Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Maiden dances through the sky,\\n\\nshe lives in every lover's sigh,\\n\\nHer smiles teach the birds to fly,\\n\\nand give dreams to little children.\\n\\nThe Seven Gods who made us all,\\n\\nare listening if we should call.\\n\\nSo close your eyes, you shall not fall,\\n\\nthey see you, little children,\\n\\nJust close your eyes, you shall not fall,\\n\\nthey see you, little children.\\n\\nSam remembered the last time he'd sung the song with his mother, to lull baby Dickon to sleep. His father had heard their voices and come barging in, angry. \\\"I will have no more of that,\\\" Lord Randyll told his wife harshly. \\\"You ruined one boy with those soft septon's songs, do you mean to do the same to this babe?\\\" Then he looked at Sam and said, \\\"Go sing to your sisters, if you must sing. I don't want you near my son.\\\"\\n\\nGilly's babe had gone to sleep. He was such a tiny thing, and so quiet that Sam feared for him. He didn't even have a name. He had asked Gilly about that, but she said it was bad luck to name a child before he was two. So many of them died.\\n\\nShe tucked her nipple back inside her furs. \\\"That was pretty, Sam. You sing good.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You should hear Dareon. His voice is sweet as mead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We drank the sweetest mead the day Craster made me a wife. It was summer then, and not so cold.\\\" Gilly gave him a puzzled look. \\\"Did you only sing of six gods? Craster always told us you southrons had seven.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Seven,\\\" he agreed, \\\"but no one sings of the Stranger.\\\" The Stranger's face was the face of death. Even talking of him made Sam uncomfortable. \\\"We should eat something. A bite or two.\\\"\\n\\nNothing was left but a few black sausages, as hard as wood. Sam sawed off a few thin slices for each of them. The effort made his wrist ache, but he was hungry enough to persist. If you chewed the slices long enough they softened up, and tasted good. Craster's wives seasoned them with garlic.\\n\\nAfter they had finished, Sam begged her pardon and went out to relieve himself and look after the horse. A biting wind was blowing from the north, and the leaves in the trees rattled at him as he passed. He had to break the thin scum of ice on top of the stream so the horse could get a drink. I had better bring her inside. He did not want to wake up at break of day to find that their horse had frozen to death during the night. Gilly would keep going even if that happened. The girl was very brave, not like him. He wished he knew what he was going to do with her back at Castle Black. She kept saying how she'd be his wife if he wanted, but black brothers didn't keep wives; besides, he was a Tarly of Horn Hill, he could never wed a wildling. I'll have to think of something. So long as we reach the Wall alive, the rest doesn't matter, it doesn't matter one little bit.\\n\\nLeading the horse to the longhall was simple enough. Getting her through the door was not, but Sam persisted. Gilly was already dozing by the time he got the garron inside. He hobbled the horse in a corner, fed some fresh wood to the fire, took off his heavy cloak, and wriggled down under the furs beside the wildling woman. His cloak was big enough to coverall three of them and keep in the warmth of their bodies.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2277,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 48"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Seven,\" he agreed, \"but no one sings of the Stranger.\" The Stranger's face was the face of death. Even talking of him made Sam uncomfortable. \"We should eat something. A bite or two.\"\n\nNothing was left but a few black sausages, as hard as wood. Sam sawed off a few thin slices for each of them. The effort made his wrist ache, but he was hungry enough to persist. If you chewed the slices long enough they softened up, and tasted good. Craster's wives seasoned them with garlic.\n\nAfter they had finished, Sam begged her pardon and went out to relieve himself and look after the horse. A biting wind was blowing from the north, and the leaves in the trees rattled at him as he passed. He had to break the thin scum of ice on top of the stream so the horse could get a drink. I had better bring her inside. He did not want to wake up at break of day to find that their horse had frozen to death during the night. Gilly would keep going even if that happened. The girl was very brave, not like him. He wished he knew what he was going to do with her back at Castle Black. She kept saying how she'd be his wife if he wanted, but black brothers didn't keep wives; besides, he was a Tarly of Horn Hill, he could never wed a wildling. I'll have to think of something. So long as we reach the Wall alive, the rest doesn't matter, it doesn't matter one little bit.\n\nLeading the horse to the longhall was simple enough. Getting her through the door was not, but Sam persisted. Gilly was already dozing by the time he got the garron inside. He hobbled the horse in a corner, fed some fresh wood to the fire, took off his heavy cloak, and wriggled down under the furs beside the wildling woman. His cloak was big enough to coverall three of them and keep in the warmth of their bodies."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Gilly smelled of milk and garlic and musty old fur, but he was used to that by now. They were good smells, so far as Sam was concerned. He liked sleeping next to her. It made him remember times long past, when he had shared a huge bed at Horn Hill with two of his sisters. That had ended when Lord Randyll decided it was making him soft as a girl. Sleeping alone in my own cold cell never made meany harder or braver, though. He wondered what his father would say if he could see him now. I killed one of the Others, my lord, he imagined saying. I stabbed him with an obsidian dagger, and my Sworn Brothers call me Sam the Slayer now. But even in his fancies, Lord Randyll only scowled, disbelieving.\n\nHis dreams were strange that night. He was back at Horn Hill, at the castle, but his father was not there. It was Sam's castle now. Jon Snow was with him. Lord Mormont too, the Old Bear, and Grenn and Dolorous Edd and Pyp and Toad and all his other brothers from the Watch, but they wore bright colors instead of black. Sam sat at the high table and feasted them all, cutting thick slices off a roast with his father's greatsword Heartsbane. There were sweet cakes to eat and honeyed wine to drink, there was singing and dancing, and everyone was warm. When the feast was done he went up to sleep; not to the lord's bedchamber where his mother and father lived but to the room he had once shared with his sisters. Only instead of his sisters it was Gilly waiting in the huge soft bed, wearing nothing but a big shaggy fur, milk leaking from her breasts.\n\nHe woke suddenly, in cold and dread."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The fire had burned down to smouldering red embers. The air itself seemed frozen, it was so cold. In the corner the garron was whinnying and kicking the logs with her hind legs. Gilly sat beside the fire, hugging her babe. Sam sat up groggy, his breath puffing pale from his open mouth. The longhall was dark with shadows, black and blacker. The hair on his arms was standing up.\n\nIt's nothing, he told himself. I'm cold, that's all.\n\nThen, by the door, one of the shadows moved. A big one.\n\nThis is still a dream, Sam prayed. Oh, make it that I'm still asleep, make it a nightmare. He's dead, he's dead, I saw him die. \"He's come for the babe,\" Gilly wept. \"He smells him. A babe fresh-born stinks o'life. He's come for the life.\"\n\nThe huge dark shape stooped under the lintel, into the hall, and shambled toward them. In the dim light of the fire, the shadow became Small Paul.\n\n\"Go away,\" Sam croaked. \"We don't want you here.\"\n\nPaul's hands were coal, his face was milk, his eyes shone a bitter blue. Hoarfrost whitened his beard, and on one shoulder hunched a raven, pecking at his cheek, eating the dead white flesh. Sam's bladder let go, and he felt the warmth running down his legs. \"Gilly, calm the horse and lead her out. You do that.\"\n\n\"You-\" she started.\n\n\"I have the knife. The dragonglass dagger.\" He fumbled it out as he got to his feet. He'd given the first knife to Grenn, but thankfully he'd remembered to take Lord Mormont's dagger before fleeing Craster's Keep. He clutched it tight, moving away from the fire, away from Gilly and the babe. \"Paul?\" He meant to sound brave, but it came out in a squeak. \"Small Paul. Do you know me? I'm Sam, fat Sam, Sam the Scared, you saved me in the woods. You carried me when I couldn't walk another step. No one else could have done that, but you did.\" Sam backed away, knife in hand, sniveling. I am such a coward. \"Don't hurt us, Paul. Please. Why would you want to hurt us?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Gilly scrabbled backward across the hard dirt floor. The wight turned his head to look at her, but Sam shouted'NO!\" and he turned back. The raven on his shoulder ripped a strip of flesh from his pale ruined cheek. Sam held the dagger before him, breathing like a blacksmith's bellows. Across the longhall, Gilly reached the garron. Gods give me courage, Sam prayed. For once, give me a little courage. Just long enough for her to getaway.\n\nSmall Paul moved toward him. Sam backed off until he came up against a rough log wall. He clutched the dagger with both hands to hold it steady. The wight did not seem to fear the dragonglass. Perhaps he did not know what it was. He moved slowly, but Small Paul had never been quick even when he'd been alive. Behind him, Gilly murmured to calm the garron and tried to urge it toward the door. But the horse must have caught a whiff of the wight's queer cold scent. Suddenly she balked, rearing, her hooves lashing at the frosty air. Paul swung toward the sound, and seemed to lose all interest in Sam.\n\nThere was no time to think or pray or be afraid. Samwell Tarly threw himself forward and plunged the dagger down into Small Paul's back. Half-turned, the wight never saw him coming. The raven gave a shriek and took to the air. \"You're dead!\" Sam screamed as he stabbed. \"You're dead, you're dead.\" He stabbed and screamed, again and again, tearing huge rents in Paul's heavy black cloak. Shards of dragonglass flew everywhere as the blade shattered on the iron mail beneath the wool.\n\nSam's wail made a white mist in the black air. He dropped the useless hilt and took a hasty step backwards as Small Paul twisted around. Before he could get out his other knife, the steel knife that every brother carried, the wight's black hands locked beneath his chins. Paul's fingers were so cold they seemed to burn. They burrowed deep into the soft flesh of Sam's throat. Run, Gilly, run, he wanted to scream, but when he opened his mouth only a choking sound emerged."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"His fumbling fingers finally found the dagger, but when he slammed it up into the wight's belly the point skidded off the iron links, and the blade went spinning from Sam's hand. Small Paul's fingers tightened inexorably, and began to twist. He's going to rip my head off, Sam thought in despair. His throat felt frozen, his lungs on fire. He punched and pulled at the wight's wrists, to no avail. He kicked Paul between the legs, uselessly. The world shrank to two blue stars, a terrible crushing pain, and a cold so fierce that his tears froze over his eyes. Sam squirmed and pulled, desperate... and then he lurched forward.\n\nSmall Paul was big and powerful, but Sam still outweighed him, and the wights were clumsy, he had seen that on the Fist. The sudden shift sent Paul staggering back a step, and the living man and the dead one went crashing down together. The impact knocked one hand from Sam's throat, and he was able to suck in a quick breath of air before the icy black fingers returned. The taste of blood filled his mouth. He twisted his neck around, looking for his knife, and saw a dull orange glow. The fire! Only ember and ashes remained, but still... he could not breathe, or think... Sam wrenched himself sideways, pulling Paul with him... his arms flailed against the dirt floor, groping, reaching, scattering the ashes, until at last they found something hot... a chunk of charred wood, smouldering red and orange within the black... his fingers closed around it, and he smashed it into Paul's mouth, so hard he felt teeth shatter.\n\nYet even so the wight's grip did not loosen. Sam's last thoughts were for the mother who had loved him and the father he had failed. The longhall was spinning around him when he saw the wisp of smoke rising from between Paul's broken teeth. Then the dead man's face burst into flame, and the hands were gone."},{"from":"human","value":"Sam sucked in air, and rolled feebly away."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The wight was burning, hoarfrost dripping from his beard as the flesh beneath blackened. Sam heard the raven shriek, but Paul himself made no sound. When his mouth opened, only flames came out. And his eyes... It's gone, the blue glow is gone.\n\nHe crept to the door. The air was so cold that it hurt to breathe, but such a fine sweet hurt. He ducked from the longhall. \"Gilly?\" he called. \"Gilly, I killed it. Gil-\"\n\nShe stood with her back against the weirwood, the boy in her arms. The wights were all around her. There were a dozen of them, a score, more... some had been wildlings once, and still wore skins and hides... but more had been his brothers. Sam saw Lark the Sisterman, Softfoot, Ryles. The wen on Chett's neck was black, his boils covered with a thin film of ice. And that one looked like Hake, though it was hard to know for certain with half his head missing. They had torn the poor garron apart, and were pulling out her entrails with dripping red hands. Pale steam rose from her belly.\n\nSam made a whimpery sound. \"It's not fair...\"\n\n\"Fair.\" The raven landed on his shoulder. \"Fair, far, fear.\" It flapped its wings, and screamed along with Gilly. The wights were almost on her. He heard the dark red leaves of the weirwood rustling, whispering to one another in a tongue he did not know. The starlight itself seemed to stir, and all around them the trees groaned and creaked. Sam Tarly turned the color of curdled milk, and his eyes went wide as plates. Ravens! They were in the weirwood, hundreds of them, thousands, perched on the bone-white branches, peering between the leaves. He saw their beaks open as they screamed, saw them spread their black wings. Shrieking, flapping, they descended on the wights in angry clouds. They swarmed round Chett's face and pecked at his blue eyes, they covered the Sisterman like flies, they plucked gobbets from inside Hake's shattered head. There were so many that when Sam looked up, he could not seethe moon."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Go,\" said the bird on his shoulder."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Go, go, go.\"\n\nSam ran, puffs of frost exploding from his mouth. All around him the wights flailed at the black wings and sharp beaks that assailed them, falling in an eerie silence with never a grunt nor cry. But the ravens ignored Sam. He took Gilly by the hand and pulled her away from the weirwood. \"We have to go.\"\n\n\"But where?\" Gilly hurried after him, holding her baby. \"They killed our horse, how will we...\"\n\n\"Brother!\" The shout cut through the night, through the shrieks of a thousand ravens. Beneath the trees, a man muffled head to heels in mottled blacks and greys sat astride an elk. \"Here,\" the rider called. A hood shadowed his face.\n\nHe's wearing blacks. Sam urged Gilly toward him. The elk was huge, a great elk, ten feet tall at the shoulder, with a rack of antlers near as wide. The creature sank to his knees to let them mount. \"Here,\" the rider said, reaching down with a gloved hand to pull Gilly up behind him. Then it was Sam's turn. \"My thanks,\" he puffed. Only when he grasped the offered hand did he realize that the rider wore no glove. His hand was black and cold, with fingers hard as stone."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"ARYA\n\nWhen they reached the top of the ridge and saw the river, Sandor Clegane reined up hard and cursed.\n\nThe rain was falling from a black iron sky, pricking the green and brown torrent with ten thousand swords. It must be a mile across, Arya thought. The tops of half a hundred trees poked up out the swirling waters, their limbs clutching for the sky like the arms of drowning men. Thick mats of sodden leaves choked the shoreline, and farther out in the channel she glimpsed something pale and swollen, a deer or perhaps a dead horse, moving swiftly downstream. There was a sound too, a low rumble at the edge of hearing, like the sound a dog makes just before he growls.\n\nArya squirmed in the saddle and felt the links of the Hound's mail digging into her back. His arms encircled her; on the left, the burned arm, he'd donned a steel vambrace for protection, but she'd seen him change the dressings, and the flesh beneath was still raw and seeping. If the burns pained him, though, Sandor Clegane gave no hint of it.\n\n\"Is this the Blackwater Rush?\" They had ridden so far in rain and darkness, through trackless woods and nameless villages, that Arya had lost all sense of where they were.\n\n\"It's a river we need to cross, that's all you need to know.\" Clegane would answer her from time to time, but he had warned her not to talk back. He had given her a lot of warnings that first day. \"The next time you hit me, I'll tie your hands behind your back,\" he'd said. \"The next time you try and runoff, I'll bind your feet together. Scream or shout or bite me again, and I'll gag you. We can ride double, or I can throw you across the back of the horse trussed up like a sow for slaughter. Your choice.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She had chosen to ride, but the first time they made camp she'd waited until she thought he was asleep, and found a big jagged rock to smash his ugly head in. Quiet as a shadow, she told herself as she crept toward him, but that wasn't quiet enough. The Hound hadn't been asleep after all. Or maybe he'd woken. Whichever it was, his eyes opened, his mouth twitched, and he took the rock away from her as if she were a baby. The best she could do was kick him. \"I'll give you that one,\" he said, when he flung the rock into the bushes. \"But if you're stupid enough to try again, I'll hurt you.\"\n\n\"Why don't you just kill me like you did Mycah?\" Arya had screamed at him. She was still defiant then, more angry than scared.\n\nHe answered by grabbing the front of her tunic and yanking her within an inch of his burned face. \"The next time you say that name I'll beat you so bad you'll wish I killed you.\"\n\nAfter that, he rolled her in his horse blanket every night when he went to sleep, and tied ropes around her top and bottom so she was bound up as tight as a babe in swaddling clothes.\n\nIt has to be the Blackwater, Arya decided as she watched the rain lash the river. The Hound was Joffrey's dog; he was taking her back to the Red Keep, to hand to Joffrey and the queen. She wished that the sun would come out, so she could tell which way they were going. The more she looked at the moss on the trees the more confused she got. The Blackwater wasn't so wide at King's Landing, but that was before the rains."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The fords will all begone,\" Sandor Clegane said, \"and I wouldn't care to try and swim over neither.\"\n\nThere's noway across, she thought. Lord Beric will catch us for sure. Clegane had pushed his big black stallion hard, doubling back thrice to throw off pursuit, once even riding half a mile up the center of a swollen stream... but Arya still expected to seethe outlaws every time she looked back. She had tried to help them by scratching her name on the trunks of trees when she went in the bushes to make water, but the fourth time she did it he caught her, and that was the end of that. It doesn't matter, Arya told herself, Thoros will find me in his flames. Only he hadn't. Not yet, anyway, and once they crossed the river...\n\n\"Harroway town shouldn't be far,\" the Hound said. \"Where Lord Roote stables Old King Andahar's two-headed water horse. Maybe we'll ride across.\"\n\nArya had never heard of Old King Andahar. She'd never seen a horse with two heads either, especially not one who could run on water, but she knew better than to ask. She held her tongue and sat stiff as the Hound turned the stallion's head and trotted along the ridgeline, following the river downstream. At least the rain was at their backs this way. She'd had enough of it stinging her eyes half-blind and washing down her cheeks like she was crying. Wolves never cry, she reminded herself again.\n\nIt could not have been much past noon, but the sky was dark as dusk. They had not seen the sun in more days than she could count. Arya was soaked to the bone, saddle-sore, sniffling, and achy. She had a fever too, and sometimes shivered uncontrollably, but when she'd told the Hound that she was sick he'd only snarled at her. \"Wipe your nose and shut your mouth,\" he told her. Half the time he slept in the saddle now, trusting his stallion to follow whatever rutted farm track or game trail they were on. The horse was a heavy courser, almost as big as a destrier but much faster. Stranger, the Hound called him. Arya had tried to steal him once, when Clegane was taking a piss against a tree, thinking she could ride off before he could catch her. Stranger had almost bitten her face off. He was gentle as an old gelding with his master, but otherwise he had a temperas black as he was. She had never known a horse so quick to bite or kick."},{"from":"human","value":"They rode beside the river for hours, splashing across two muddy vassal streams before they reached the place that Sandor Clegane had spoken of."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Lord Harroway's Town,\" he said, and then, when he saw it, \"Seven hells!\" The town was drowned and desolate. The rising waters had overflowed the riverbanks. All that remained of Harroway town was the upper story of a daub-and-wattle inn, the seven-sided dome of a sunken sept, two-thirds of a stone roundtower, some moldy thatch roofs, and a forest of chimneys.\n\nBut there was smoke coming from the tower, Arya saw, and below one arched window a wide flat-bottomed boat was chained uptight. The boat had a dozen oarlocks and a pair of great carved wooden horse heads mounted fore and aft. The two-headed horse, she realized. There was a wooden house with a sod roof right in the middle of the deck, and when the Hound cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted two men came spilling out. A third appeared in the window of the roundtower, clutching a loaded crossbow. \"What do you want?\" he shouted across the swirling brown waters.\n\n\"Take us over,\" the Hound shouted back.\n\nThe men in the boat conferred with one another. One of them, a grizzled grey-haired man with thick arms and a bent back, stepped to the rail. \"It will cost you.\"\n\n\"Then I'll pay.\"\n\nWith what? Arya wondered. The outlaws had taken Clegane's gold, but maybe Lord Beric had left him some silver and copper. A ferry ride shouldn't cost more than a few coppers...\n\nThe ferrymen were talking again. Finally the bent-backed one turned away and gave a shout. Six more men appeared, pulling up hoods to keep the rain off their heads. Still more squirmed out the holdfast window and leapt down onto the deck. Half of them looked enough like the bent-backed man to be his kin. Some of them undid the chains and took up long poles, while the others slid heavy wide-bladed oars through the locks. The ferry swung about and began to creep slowly toward the shallows, oars stroking smoothly on either side. Sandor Clegane rode down the hill to meet it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When the aft end of the boat slammed into the hillside, the ferrymen opened a wide door beneath the carved horse's head, and extended a heavy oaken plank. Stranger balked at the water's edge, but the Hound put his heels into the courser's flank and urged him up the gangway. The bent-backed man was waiting for them on deck. \"Wet enough for you, ser?\" he asked, smiling.\n\nThe Hound's mouth gave a twitch. \"I need your boat, not your bloody wit.\" He dismounted, and pulled Arya down beside him. One of the boatmen reached for Stranger's bridle. \"I wouldn't,\" Clegane said, as the horse kicked. The man leapt back, slipped on the rain-slick deck, and crashed onto his arse, cursing.\n\nThe ferryman with the bent back wasn't smiling any longer. \"We can get you across,\" he said sourly. \"It will cost you a gold piece. Another for the horse. A third for the boy.\"\n\n\"Three dragons?\" Clegane gave a bark of laughter. \"For three dragons I should own the bloody ferry.\"\n\n\"Last year, might be you could. But with this river, I'll need extra hands on the poles and oars just to see we don't get swept a hundred miles out to sea. Here's your choice. Three dragons, or you teach that hellhorse how to walk on water.\"\n\n\"I like an honest brigand. Have it your way. Three dragons... when you put us ashore safe on the north bank.\"\n\n\"I'll have them now, or we don't go.\" The man thrust out a thick, callused hand, palm up.\n\nClegane rattled his longsword to loosen the blade in the scabbard. \"Here's your choice. Gold on the north bank, or steel on the south.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The ferryman looked up at the Hound's face. Arya could tell that he didn't like what he saw there. He had a dozen men behind him, strongmen with oars and hardwood poles in their hands, but none of them were rushing forward to help him. Together they could overwhelm Sandor Clegane, though he'd likely kill three or four of them before they took him down. \"How do I know you're good for it?\" the bent-backed man asked, after a moment.\n\nHe's not, she wanted to shout. Instead she bit her lip.\n\n\"Knight's honor,\" the Hound said, unsmiling.\n\nHe's not even a knight. She did not say that either.\n\n\"That will do.\" The ferryman spat. \"Come on then, we can have you across before dark. Tie the horse up, I don't want him spooking when we're underway. There's a brazier in the cabin if you and your son want to get warm.\"\n\n\"I'm not his stupid son!\" said Arya furiously. That was even worse than being taken fora boy. She was so angry that she might have told them who she really was, only Sandor Clegane grabbed her by the back of the collar and hoisted her one-handed off the deck. \"How many times do I need to tell you to shut your bloody mouth?\" He shook her so hard her teeth rattled, then let her fall. \"Get in there and get dry, like the man said.\"\n\nArya did as she was told. The big iron brazier was glowing red, filling the room with a sullen suffocating heat. It felt pleasant to stand beside it, to warm her hands and dry off a little bit, but as soon as she felt the deck move under her feet she slipped back out through the forward door."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The two-headed horse eased slowly through the shallows, picking its way between the chimneys and rooftops of drowned Harroway. A dozen men labored at the oars while four more used the long poles to push off whenever they came too close to a rock, a tree, or a sunken house. The bent-backed man had the rudder. Rain pattered against the smooth planks of the deck and splashed off the tall carved horseheads fore and aft. Arya was getting soaked again, but she didn't care. She wanted to see. The man with the crossbow still stood in the window of the roundtower, she saw. His eyes followed her as the ferry slid by underneath. She wondered if he was this Lord Roote that the Hound had mentioned. He doesn't look much like a lord. But then, she didn't look much like a lady either.\n\nOnce they were beyond the town and out in the river proper, the current grew much stronger. Through the grey haze of rain Arya could make out a tall stone pillar on the far shore that surely marked the ferry landing, but no sooner had she seen it than she realized that they were being pushed away from it, downstream. The oarsmen were rowing more vigorously now, fighting the rage of the river. Leaves and broken branches swirled pastas fast as if they'd been fired from a scorpion. The men with the poles leaned out and shoved away anything that came too close. It was windier out here, too. Whenever she turned to look upstream, Arya got a face full of blowing rain. Stranger was screaming and kicking as the deck moved underfoot.\n\nIf I jumped over the side, the river would wash me away before the Hound even knew that I was gone. She looked back over a shoulder, and saw Sandor Clegane struggling with his frightened horse, trying to calm him. She would never have a better chance to getaway from him. I might drown, though. Jon used to say that she swam like a fish, but even a fish might have trouble in this river. Still, drowning might be better than King's Landing. She thought about Joffrey and crept up to the prow. The river was murky brown with mud and lashed by rain, looking more like soup than water. Arya wondered how cold it would be. I couldn't get much wetter than I am now. She put a hand on the rail."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But a sudden shout snapped her head about before she could leap. The ferrymen were rushing forward, poles in hand. Fora moment she did not understand what was happening. Then she saw it: an uprooted tree, huge and dark, coming straight at them. A tangle of roots and limbs poked up out of the water as it came, like the reaching arms of a great kraken. The oarsmen were backing water frantically, trying to avoid a collision that could capsize them or stove their hull in. The old man had wrenched the rudder about, and the horse at the prow was swinging downstream, but too slowly. Glistening brown and black, the tree rushed toward them like a battering ram.\n\nIt could not have been more than ten feet from their prow when two of the boatmen somehow caught it with their long poles. One snapped, and the long splintering craaaack made it sound as if the ferry were breaking up beneath them. But the second man managed to give the trunk a hard shove, just enough to deflect it away from them. The tree swept past the ferry with inches to spare, its branches scrabbling like claws against the horsehead. Only just when it seemed as if they were clear, one of the monster's upper limbs dealt them a glancing thump. The ferry seemed to shudder, and Arya slipped, landing painfully on one knee. The man with the broken pole was not so lucky. She heard him shout as he stumbled over the side. Then the raging brown water closed over him, and he was gone in the time it took Arya to climb back to her feet. One of the other boatmen snatched up a coil of rope, but there was no one to throw it to.\n\nMaybe he'll wash up someplace downstream, Arya tried to tell herself, but the thought had a hollow ring. She had lost all desire to go swimming. When Sandor Clegane shouted at her to get back inside before he beat her bloody, she went meekly. The ferry was fighting to turn back on course by then, against a river that wanted nothing more than to carry it down to the sea."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When they finally came ashore, it was a good two miles downriver of their usual landing. The boat slammed into the bank so hard that another pole snapped, and Arya almost lost her feet again. Sandor Clegane lifted her onto Stranger's back as if she weighed no more than a doll. The boatmen stared at them with dull, exhausted eyes, all but the bent-backed man, who held his handout. \"Six dragons,\" he demanded. \"Three for the passage, and three for the man I lost.\"\n\nSandor Clegane rummaged in his pouch and shoved a crumpled wad of parchment into the boatman's palm. \"There. Take ten.\"\n\n\"Ten?\" The ferryman was confused. \"What's this, now?\"\n\n\"A dead man's note, good for nine thousand dragons or nearabouts.\" The Hound swung up into the saddle behind Arya, and smiled down unpleasantly. \"Ten of it is yours. I'll be back for the rest one day, so see you don't go spending it.\"\n\nThe man squinted down at the parchment. \"Writing. What good's writing? You promised gold. Knight's honor, you said.\"\n\n\"Knights have no bloody honor. Time you learned that, old man.\" The Hound gave Stranger the spur and galloped off through the rain. The ferrymen threw curses at their backs, and one or two threw stones. Clegane ignored rocks and words alike, and before long they were lost in the gloom of the trees, the river a dwindling roar behind them. \"The ferry won't cross back till morning,\" he said, \"and that lot won't betaking paper promises from the next fools to come along. If your friends are chasing us, they're going to need to be bloody strong swimmers.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Arya huddled down and held her tongue. Valar morghulis, she thought sullenly. Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei. Dunsen, Poliver, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Gregor and the Tickler. And the Hound, the Hound, the Hound.\n\nBy the time the rain stopped and the clouds broke, she was shivering and sneezing so badly that Clegane called a halt for the night, and even tried to make afire. The wood they gathered proved too wet, though. Nothing he tried was enough to make the spark catch. Finally he kicked it all apart in disgust. \"Seven bloody hells,\" he swore. \"I hate fires.\"\n\nThey sat on damp rocks beneath an oak tree, listening to the slow patter of water dripping from the leaves as they ate a cold supper of hardbread, moldy cheese, and smoked sausage. The Hound sliced the meat with his dagger, and narrowed his eyes when he caught Arya looking at the knife. \"Don't even think about it.\"\n\n\"I wasn't,\" she lied.\n\nHe snorted to show what he thought of that, but he gave her a thick slice of sausage. Arya worried it with her teeth, watching him all the while. \"I never beat your sister,\" the Hound said. \"But I'll beat you if you make me. Stop trying to think up ways to kill me. None of it will do you a bit of good.\"\n\nShe had nothing to say to that. She gnawed on the sausage and stared at him coldly. Hard as stone, she thought.\n\n\"At least you look at my face. I'll give you that, you little she-wolf. How do you like it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I don't. It's all burned and ugly.\"\n\nClegane offered her a chunk of cheese on the point of his dagger. \"You're a little fool. What good would it do you if you did getaway? You'd just get caught by someone worse.\"\n\n\"I would not,\" she insisted. \"There is no one worse.\"\n\n\"You never knew my brother. Gregor once killed a man for snoring. His own man.\" When he grinned, the burned side of his face pulled tight, twisting his mouth in a queer unpleasant way. He had no lips on that side, and only the stump of an ear.\n\n\"I did so know your brother.\" Maybe the Mountain was worse, now that Arya thought about it. \"Him and Dunsen and Polliver, and Raff the Sweetling and the Tickler.\"\n\nThe Hound seemed surprised. \"And how would Ned Stark's precious little daughter come to know the likes of them? Gregor never brings his pet rats to court.\"\n\n\"I know them from the village.\" She ate the cheese, and reached fora hunk of hardbread. \"The village by the lake where they caught Gendry, me, and Hot Pie. They caught Lommy Greenhands too, but Raff the Sweetling killed him because his leg was hurt.\"\n\nClegane's mouth twitched. \"Caught you? My brother caught you?\" That made him laugh, a sour sound, part rumble and part snarl. \"Gregor never knew what he had, did he? He couldn't have, or he would have dragged you back kicking and screaming to King's Landing and dumped you in Cersei's lap. Oh, that's bloody sweet. I'll be sure and tell him that, before I cut his heart out.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It wasn't the first time he had talked of killing the Mountain. \"But he's your brother,\" Arya said dubiously.\n\n\"Didn't you ever have a brother you wanted to kill?\" He laughed again. \"Or maybe a sister?\" He must have seen something in her face then, for he leaned closer. \"Sansa. That's it, isn't it? The wolf bitch wants to kill the pretty bird.\"\n\n\"No,\" Arya spat back at him. \"I'd like to kill you.\"\n\n\"Because I hacked your little friend in two? I've killed a lot more than him, I promise you. You think that makes me some monster. Well, maybe it does, but I saved your sister's life too. The day the mob pulled her off her horse, I cut through them and brought her back to the castle, else she would have gotten what Lollys Stokeworth got. And she sang for me. You didn't know that, did you? Your sister sang me a sweet little song.\"\n\n\"You're lying,\" she said at once.\n\n\"You don't know half as much as you think you do. The Blackwater? Wherein seven hells do you think we are? Where do you think we're going?\"\n\nThe scorn in his voice made her hesitate. \"Back to King's Landing,\" she said. \"You're bringing me to Joffrey and the queen.\" That was wrong, she realized all of a sudden, just from the way he asked the questions. But she had to say something.\n\n\"Stupid blind little wolf bitch.\" His voice was rough and hard as an iron rasp. \"Bugger Joffrey, bugger the queen, and bugger that twisted little gargoyle she calls a brother. I'm done with their city, done with their Kingsguard, done with Lannisters. What's a dog to do with lions, I ask you?\" He reached for his waterskin, took along pull. Ashe wiped his mouth, he offered the skin to Arya and said, \"The river was the Trident, girl. The Trident, not the Blackwater. Make the map in your head, if you can. On the morrow we should reach the kingsroad. We'll make good time after that, straight up to the Twins. It's going to be me who hands you over to that mother of yours. Not the noble lightning lord or that flaming fraud of a priest, the monster.\" He grinned at the look on her face. \"You think your outlaw friends are the only ones can smell a ransom? Dondarrion took my gold, so I took you. You're worth twice what they stole from me, I'd say. Maybe even more if I sold you back to the Lannisters like you fear, but I won't. Even a dog gets tired of being kicked. If this Young Wolf has the wits the gods gave a toad, he'll make me a lordling and beg me to enter his service. He needs me, though he may not know it yet. Maybe I'll even kill Gregor for him, he'd like that.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He'll never take you,\" she spat back. \"Not you.\"\n\n\"Then I'll take as much gold as I can carry, laugh in his face, and ride off. If he doesn't take me, he'd be wise to kill me, but he won't. Too much his father's son, from what I hear. Fine with me. Either way I win. And so do you, she-wolf. So stop whimpering and snapping at me, I'm sick of it. Keep your mouth shut and do as I tell you, and maybe we'll even be in time for your uncle's bloody wedding.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"JON\n\nThe mare was blown, but Jon could not letup on her. He had to reach the Wall before the Magnar. He would have slept in the saddle if he'd had one; lacking that, it was hard enough to stay ahorse while awake. His wounded leg grew evermore painful. He dare not rest long enough to let it heal. Instead he ripped it open anew each time he mounted up.\n\nWhen he crested arise and saw the brown rutted kingsroad before him wending its way north through hill and plain, he patted the mare's neck and said, \"Now all we need do is follow the road, girl. Soon the Wall.\" His leg had gone as stiff as wood by then, and fever had made him so light-headed that twice he found himself riding in the wrong direction.\n\nSoon the Wall. He pictured his friends drinking mulled wine in the common hall. Hobb would be with his kettles, Donal Noye at his forge, Maester Aemon in his rooms beneath the rookery. And the Old Bear? Sam, Grenn, Dolorous Edd, Dywen with his wooden teeth... Jon could only pray that some had escaped the Fist.\n\nYgritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body... and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat. You were wrong to love her, a voice whispered. You were wrong to leave her, a different voice insisted. He wondered if his father had been torn the same way, when he'd left Jon's mother to return to Lady Catelyn. He was pledged to Lady Stark, and I am pledged to the Night's Watch.\n\nHe almost rode through Mole's Town, so feverish that he did not know where he was. Most of the village was hidden underground, only a handful of small hovels to be seen by the light of the waning moon. The brothel was ashed no bigger than a privy, its red lantern creaking in the wind, a bloodshot eye peering through the blackness. Jon dismounted at the adjoining stable, half-stumbling from the mare's back as he shouted two boys awake. \"I need afresh mount, with saddle and bridle,\" he told them, in atone that brooked no argument. They brought him that; a skin of wine as well, and half a loaf of brown bread. \"Wake the village,\" he told them. \"Warn them. There are wildlings south of the Wall. Gather your goods and make for Castle Black.\" He pulled himself onto the black gelding they'd given him, gritting his teeth at the pain in his leg, and rode hard for the north."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As the stars began to fade in the eastern sky, the Wall appeared before him, rising above the trees and the morning mists. Moonlight glimmered pale against the ice. He urged the gelding on, following the muddy slick road until he saw the stone towers and timbered halls of Castle Black huddled like broken toys beneath the great cliff of ice. By then the Wall glowed pink and purple with the first light of dawn.\n\nNo sentries challenged him as he rode past the outbuildings. No one came forth to bar his way. Castle Black seemed as much a ruin as Greyguard. Brown brittle weeds grew between cracks in the stones of the courtyards. Old snow covered the roof of the Flint Barracks and lay in drifts against the north side of Hardin's Tower, where Jon used to sleep before being made the Old Bear's steward. Fingers of soot streaked the Lord Commander's Tower where the smoke had boiled from the windows. Mormont had moved to the King's Tower after the fire, but Jon saw no lights there either. From the ground he could not tell if there were sentries walking the Wall seven hundred feet above, but he saw no one on the huge switchback stair that climbed the south face of the ice like some great wooden thunderbolt.\n\nThere was smoke rising from the chimney of the armory, though; only a wisp, almost invisible against the grey northern sky, but it was enough. Jon dismounted and limped toward it. Warmth poured out the open door like the hot breath of summer. Within, one-armed Donal Noye was working his bellows at the fire. He looked up at the noise. \"Jon Snow?\"\n\n\"None else.\" Despite fever, exhaustion, his leg, the Magnar, the old man, Ygritte, Mance, despite it all, Jon smiled. It was good to be back, good to see Noye with his big belly and pinned-up sleeve, his jaw bristling with black stubble."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The smith released his grip on the bellows. \"Your face...\"\n\nHe had almost forgotten about his face. \"A skinchanger tried to rip out my eye.\"\n\nNoye frowned. \"Scarred or smooth, it's a face I thought I'd seen the last of. We heard you'd gone over to Mance Raydar.\"\n\nJon grasped the door to stay upright. \"Who told you that?\"\n\n\"Jarman Buckwell. He returned a fortnight past. His scouts claim they saw you with their own eyes, riding along beside the wildling column and wearing a sheepskin cloak.\" Noye eyed him. \"I seethe last part's true.\"\n\n\"It's all true,\" Jon confessed. \"As far as it goes.\"\n\n\"Should I be pulling down a sword to gut you, then?\"\n\n\"No. I was acting on orders. Qhorin Halfhand's last command. Noye, where is the garrison?\"\n\n\"Defending the Wall against your wildling friends.\"\n\n\"Yes, but where?\"\n\n\"Everywhere. Harma Dogshead was seen at Woodswatch-by-the-Pool, Rattleshirt at Long Barrow, the Weeper near Icemark. All along the Wall... they're here, they're there, they're climbing near Queensgate, they're hacking at the gates of Greyguard, they're massing against Eastwatch... but one glimpse of a black cloak and they're gone. Next day they're somewhere else.\"\n\nJon swallowed a groan. \"Feints. Mance wants us to spread ourselves thin, don't you see?\" And Bowen Marsh has obliged him. \"The gate is here. The attack is here.\"\n\nNoye crossed the room. \"Your leg is drenched in blood.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jon looked down dully. It was true. His wound had opened again. \"An arrow wound...\"\n\n\"A wildling arrow.\" It was not a question. Noye had only one arm, but that was thick with muscle. He slid it under Jon's to help support him. \"You're white as milk, and burning hot besides. I'm taking you to Aemon.\"\n\n\"There's no time. There are wildlings south of the Wall, coming up from Queenscrown to open the gate.\"\n\n\"How many?\" Noye half-carried Jon out the door.\n\n\"A hundred and twenty, and well armed for wildlings. Bronze armor, some bits of steel. How many men are left here?\"\n\n\"Forty odd,\" said Donal Noye. \"The crippled and infirm, and some green boys still in training.\"\n\n\"If Marsh is gone, who did he name as castellan?\"\n\nThe armorer laughed. \"Ser Wynton, gods preserve him. Last knight in the castle and all. The thing is, Stout seems to have forgotten and no one's been rushing to remind him. I suppose I'm as much a commander as we have now. The meanest of the cripples.\"\n\nThat was for the good, at least. The one-armed armorer was hardheaded, tough, and well seasoned in war. Ser Wynton Stout, on the other hand... well, he had been a good man once, everyone agreed, but he had been eighty years a ranger, and both strength and wits were gone. Once he'd fallen asleep at supper and almost drowned in a bowl of pea soup.\n\n\"Where's your wolf?\" Noye asked as they crossed the yard.\n\n\"Ghost. I had to leave him when I climbed the Wall. I'd hoped he'd make his way back here.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I'm sorry, lad. There's been no sign of him.\" They limped up to the maester's door, in the long wooden keep beneath the rookery. The armorer gave it a kick. \"Clydas!\"\n\nAfter a momenta stooped, round-shouldered little man in black peered out. His small pink eyes widened at the sight of Jon. \"Lay the lad down, I'll fetch the maester.\"\n\nAfire was burning in the hearth, and the room was almost stuffy. The warmth made Jon sleepy. As soon as Noye eased him down onto his back, he closed his eyes to stop the world from spinning. He could hear the ravens quork ing and complaining in the rookery above. \"Snow,\" one bird was saying. \"Snow, snow, snow.\" That was Sam's doing, Jon remembered. Had Samwell Tarly made it home safely, he wondered, or only the birds?\n\nMaester Aemon was not long incoming. He moved slowly, one spotted hand on Clydas's arm as he shuffled forward with small careful steps. Around his thin neck his chain hung heavy, gold and silver links glinting amongst iron, lead, tin, and other base metals. \"Jon Snow,\" he said, \"you must tell me all you've seen and done when you are stronger. Donal, put a kettle of wine on the fire, and my irons as well. I will want them red-hot. Clydas, I shall need that good sharp knife of yours.\" The maester was more than a hundred years old; shrunken, frail, hairless, and quite blind. But if his milky eyes saw nothing, his wits were still as sharp as they had ever been.\n\n\"There are wildlings coming,\" Jon told him, as Clydas ran a blade up the leg of his breeches, slicing the heavy black cloth, crusty with old blood and sodden with new. \"From the south. We climbed the Wall...\""},{"from":"human","value":"Maester Aemon gave Jon's crude bandage a sniff when Clydas cut it away."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We?\"\n\n\"I was with them. Qhorin Halfhand commanded me to join them.\" Jon winced as the maester's finger explored his wound, poking and prodding. \"The Magnar of Thenn-aaaaah, that hurts.\" He clenched his teeth. \"Where is the Old Bear?\"\n\n\"Jon... it grieves me to say, but Lord Commander Mormont was murdered at Craster's Keep, at the hands of his Sworn Brothers.\"\n\n\"Bro... our own men?\" Aemon's words hurt a hundred times worse than his fingers. Jon remembered the Old Bear as last he'd seen him, standing before his tent with his raven on his arm croaking for corn. Mormont gone? He had feared it ever since he'd seen the aftermath of battle on the Fist, yet it was no less a blow. \"Who was it? Who turned on him?\"\n\n\"Garth of Oldtown, Ollo Lophand, Dirk... thieves, cowards and killers, the lot of them. We should have seen it coming. The Watch is not what it was. Too few honest men to keep the rogues inline.\" Donal Noye turned the maester's blades in the fire. \"A dozen true men made it back. Dolorous Edd, Giant, your friend the Aurochs. We had the tale from them.\"\n\nOnly a dozen? Two hundred men had left Castle Black with Lord Commander Mormont, two hundred of the Watch's best. \"Does this mean Marsh is Lord Commander, then?\" The Old Pomegranate was amiable, and a diligent First Steward, but he was woefully ill-suited to face a wildling host.\n\n\"For the nonce, until we can hold a choosing,\" said Maester Aemon. \"Clydas, bring me the flask.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A choosing. With Qhorin Halfhand and Ser Jaremy Rykker both dead and Ben Stark still missing, who was there? Not Bowen Marsh or Ser Wynton Stout, that was certain. Had Thoren Smallwood survived the Fist, or Ser Ottyn Wythers? No, it will be Cotter Pyke or Ser Denys Mallister. Which, though? The commanders at the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch were good men, but very different; Ser Denys courtly and cautious, as chivalrous as he was elderly, Pyke younger, bastard-born, rough-tongued, and bold to a fault. Worse, the two men despised each other. The Old Bear had always kept them far apart, at opposite ends of the Wall. The Mallisters had a bone-deep mistrust of the ironborn, Jon knew.\n\nA stab of pain reminded him of his own woes. The maester squeezed his hand. \"Clydas is bringing milk of the poppy.\"\n\nJon tried to rise. \"I don't need-\"\n\n\"You do,\" Aemon said firmly. \"This will hurt.\"\n\nDonal Noye crossed the room and shoved Jon back onto his back. \"Be still, or I'll tie you down.\" Even with only one arm, the smith handled him as if he were a child. Clydas returned with a green flask and a rounded stone cup. Maester Aemon poured it full. \"Drink this.\"\n\nJon had bitten his lip in his struggles. He could taste blood mingled with the thick, chalky potion. It was all he could do not to retch it backup.\n\nClydas brought a basin of warm water, and Maester Aemon washed the pus and blood from his wound. Gentle as he was, even the lightest touch made Jon want to scream. \"The Magnar's men are disciplined, and they have bronze armor,\" he told them. Talking helped keep his mind off his leg."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The Magnar's a lord on Skagos,\" Noye said. \"There were Skagossons at Eastwatch when I first came to the Wall, I remember hearing them talk of him.\"\n\n\"Jon was using the word in its older sense, I think,\" Maester Aemon said, \"not as a family name but as a title. It derives from the Old Tongue.\"\n\n\"It means lord,\" Jon agreed. \"Styr is the Magnar of someplace called Thenn, in the far north of the Frostfangs. He has a hundred of his own men, and a score of raiders who know the Gift almost as well as we do. Mance never found the horn, though, that's something. The Horn of Winter, that's what he was digging for up along the Milkwater.\"\n\nMaester Aemon paused, washcloth in hand. \"The Horn of Winter is an ancient legend. Does the King-beyond-the-Wall truly believe that such a thing exists?\"\n\n\"They all do,\" said Jon. \"Ygritte said they opened a hundred graves... graves of kings and heroes, allover the valley of the Milkwater, but they never...\"\n\n\"Who is Ygritte?\" Donal Noye asked pointedly.\n\n\"A woman of the free folk.\" How could he explain Ygritte to them? She's warm and smart and funny and she can kiss a manor slit his throat. \"She's with Styr, but she's not... she's young, only a girl, in truth, wild, but she...\" She killed an old man for building afire. His tongue felt thick and clumsy. The milk of the poppy was clouding his wits. \"I broke my vows with her. I never meant to, but...\" It was wrong. Wrong to love her, wrong to leave her...\"I wasn't strong enough. The Halfhand commanded me, ride with them, watch, I must not balk, I...\" His head felt as if it were packed with wet wool."},{"from":"human","value":"Maester Aemon sniffed Jon's wound again."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then he put the bloody cloth back in the basin and said, \"Donal, the hot knife, if you please. I shall need you to hold him still.\"\n\nI will not scream, Jon told himself when he saw the blade glowing red hot. But he broke that vow as well. Donal Noye held him down, while Clydas helped guide the maester's hand. Jon did not move, except to pound his fist against the table, again and again and again. The pain was so huge he felt small and weak and helpless inside it, a child whimpering in the dark. Ygritte, he thought, when the stench of burning flesh was in his nose and his own shriek echoing in her ears. Ygritte, I had to. For half a heartbeat the agony started to ebb. But then the iron touched him once again, and he fainted.\n\nWhen his eyelids fluttered open, he was wrapped in thick wool and floating. He could not seem to move, but that did not matter. Fora time he dreamed that Ygritte was with him, tending him with gentle hands. Finally he closed his eyes and slept.\n\nThe next waking was not so gentle. The room was dark, but under the blankets the pain was back, a throbbing in his leg that turned into a hot knife at the least motion. Jon learned that the hard way when he tried to see if he still had a leg. Gasping, he swallowed a scream and made another fist.\n\n\"Jon?\" A candle appeared, and a well-remembered face was looking down on him, big ears and all. \"You shouldn't move.\"\n\n\"Pyp?\" Jon reached up, and the other boy clasped his hand and gave it a squeeze. \"I thought you'd gone...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"... with the Old Pomegranate? No, he thinks I'm too small and green. Grenn's here too.\"\n\n\"I'm here too.\" Grenn stepped to the other side of the bed. \"I fell asleep.\"\n\nJon's throat was dry. \"Water,\" he gasped. Grenn brought it, and held it to his lips. \"I saw the Fist,\" he said, after along swallow. \"The blood, and the dead horses... Noye said a dozen made it back... who?\"\n\n\"Dywen did. Giant, Dolorous Edd, Sweet Donnel Hill, Ulmer, Left Hand Lew, Garth Greyfeather. Four or five more. Me.\"\n\n\"Sam?\"\n\nGrenn looked away. \"He killed one of the Others, Jon. I saw it. He stabbed him with that dragonglass knife you made him, and we started calling him Sam the Slayer. He hated that.\"\n\nSam the Slayer. Jon could hardly imagine a less likely warrior than Sam Tarly. \"What happened to him?\"\n\n\"We left him.\" Grenn sounded miserable. \"I shook him and screamed at him, even slapped his face. Giant tried to drag him to his feet, but he was too heavy. Remember in training how he'd curl upon the ground and lie there whimpering? At Craster's he wouldn't even whimper. Dirk and Ollo were tearing up the walls looking for food, Garth and Garth were fighting, some of the others were raping Craster's wives. Dolorous Edd figured Dirk's bunch would kill all the loyal men to keep us from telling what they'd done, and they had us two to one. We left Sam with the Old Bear. He wouldn't move, Jon.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"You were his brother, he almost said. How could you leave him amongst wildlings and murderers?\n\n\"He might still be alive,\" said Pyp. \"He might surprise us all and come riding up tomorrow.\"\n\n\"With Mance Rayder's head, aye.\" Grenn was trying to sound cheerful, Jon could tell. \"Sam the Slayer!\"\n\nJon tried to sit again. It was as much a mistake as the first time. He cried out, cursing.\n\n\"Grenn, go wake Maester Aemon,\" said Pyp. \"Tell him Jon needs more milk of the poppy.\"\n\nYes, Jon thought. \"No,\" he said. \"The Magnar...\"\n\n\"We know,\" said Pyp. \"The sentries on the Wall have been told to keep one eye on the south, and Donal Noye dispatched some men to Weatherback Ridge to watch the kingsroad. Maester Aemon's sent birds to Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower too.\"\n\nMaester Aemon shuffled to the bedside, one hand on Grenn's shoulder. \"Jon, be gentle with yourself. It is good that you have woken, but you must give yourself time to heal. We drowned the wound with boiling wine, and closed you up with a poultice of nettle, mustard seed and moldy bread, but unless you rest...\"\n\n\"I can't.\" Jon fought through the pain to sit. \"Mance will be here soon... thousands of men, giants, mammoths... has word been sent to Winterfell? To the king?\" Sweat dripped off his brow. He closed his eyes a moment.\n\nGrenn gave Pyp a strange look. \"He doesn't know.\"\n\n\"Jon,\" said Maester Aemon, \"much and more happened while you were away, and little of it good. Balon Greyjoy has crowned himself again and sent his longships against the north. Kings sprout like weeds at every hand and we have sent appeals to all of them, yet none will come. They have more pressing uses for their swords, and we are far off and forgotten. And Winterfell... Jon, be strong... Winterfell is no more...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No more?\" Jon stared at Aemon's white eyes and wrinkled face. \"My brothers are at Winterfell. Bran and Rickon...\"\n\nThe maester touched his brow. \"I am so very sorry, Jon. Your brothers died at the command of Theon Greyjoy, after he took Winterfell in his father's name. When your father's bannermen threatened to retake it, he put the castle to the torch.\"\n\n\"Your brothers were avenged,\" Grenn said. \"Bolton's son killed all the ironmen, and it's said he's flaying Theon Greyjoy inch by inch for what he did.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Jon.\" Pyp squeezed his shoulder. \"We are all.\"\n\nJon had never liked Theon Greyjoy, but he had been their father's ward. Another spasm of pain twisted up his leg, and the next he knew he was flat on his back again. \"There's some mistake,\" he insisted. \"At Queenscrown I saw a direwolf, a grey direwolf... grey... it knew me.\" If Bran was dead, could some part of him live on in his wolf, as Orell lived within his eagle?\n\n\"Drink this.\" Grenn held a cup to his lips. Jon drank. His head was full of wolves and eagles, the sound of his brothers'laughter. The faces above him began to blur and fade. They can't be dead. Theon would never do that. And Winterfell... grey granite, oak andiron, crows wheeling around the towers, steam rising off the hot pools in the godswood, the stone kings sitting on their thrones... how could Winterfell begone?\n\nWhen the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father's face. Ygritte was with him, laughing at him, shedding her skins till she was naked as her name day, trying to kiss him, but he couldn't, not with his father watching. He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night's Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not. \"You know nothing, Jon Snow,\" she whispered, her skin dissolving in the hot water, the flesh beneath sloughing off her bones until only skull and skeleton remained, and the pool bubbled thick and red."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"CATELYN\n\nThey heard the Green Fork before they saw it, an endless susurrus, like the growl of some great beast. The river was a boiling torrent, half again as wide as it had been last year, when Robb had divided his army here and vowed to take a Frey to bride as the price of his crossing. He needed Lord Walder and his bridge then, and he needs them even more now. Catelyn's heart was full of misgivings as she watched the murky green waters swirl past. There is noway we will ford this, nor swim across, and it could be a moon's turn before these waters fall again.\n\nAs they neared the Twins, Robb donned his crown and summoned Catelyn and Edmure to ride beside him. Ser Raynald Westerling bore his banner, the direwolf of Stark on its ice-white field.\n\nThe gatehouse towers emerged from the rain like ghosts, hazy grey apparitions that grew more solid the closer they rode. The Frey stronghold was not one castle but two; mirror images in wet stone standing on opposite sides of the water, linked by a great arched bridge. From the center of its span rose the Water Tower, the river running straight and swift below. Channels had been cut from the banks, to form moats that made each twin an island. The rains had turned the moats to shallow lakes.\n\nAcross the turbulent waters, Catelyn could see several thousand men encamped around the eastern castle, their banners hanging like so many drowned cats from the lances outside their tents. The rain made it impossible to distinguish colors and devices. Most were grey, it seemed to her, though beneath such skies the whole world seemed grey.\n\n\"Tread lightly here, Robb,\" she cautioned her son. \"Lord Walder has a thin skin and a sharp tongue, and some of these sons of his will doubtless take after their father. You must not let yourself be provoked.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I know the Freys, Mother. I know how much I wronged them, and how much I need them. I shall be as sweet as a septon.\"\n\nCatelyn shifted her seat uncomfortably. \"If we are offered refreshment when we arrive, on no account refuse. Take what is offered, and eat and drink where all can see. If nothing is offered, ask for bread and cheese and a cup of wine.\"\n\n\"I'm more wet than hungry...\"\n\n\"Robb, listen tome. Once you have eaten of his bread and salt, you have the guest right, and the laws of hospitality protect you beneath his roof.\"\n\nRobb looked more amused than afraid. \"I have an army to protect me, Mother, I don't need to trust in bread and salt. But if it pleases Lord Walder to serve me stewed crow smothered in maggots, I'll eat it and ask fora second bowl.\"\n\nFour Freys rode out from the western gatehouse, wrapped in heavy cloaks of thick grey wool. Catelyn recognized Ser Ryman, son of the late Ser Stevron, Lord Walder's firstborn. With his father dead, Ryman was heir to the Twins. The face she saw beneath his hood was fleshy, broad, and stupid. The other three were likely his own sons, Lord Walder's great grandsons.\n\nEdmure confirmed as much. \"Edwyn is eldest, the pale slender man with the constipated look. The wiry one with the beard is Black Walder, a nasty bit of business. Petyr is on the bay, the lad with the unfortunate face. Petyr Pimple, his brothers call him. Only a year or two older than Robb, but Lord Walder married him off at ten to a woman thrice his age. Gods, I hope Roslin doesn't take after him.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They halted to let their hosts come to them. Robb's banner drooped on its staff, and the steady sound of rainfall mingled with the rush of the swollen Green Fork on their right. Grey Wind edged forward, tail stiff, watching through slitted eyes of dark gold. When the Freys were a half-dozen yards away Catelyn heard him growl, a deep rumble that seemed almost one with rush of the river. Robb looked startled. \"Grey Wind, tome. Tome!\"\n\nInstead the direwolf leapt forward, snarling.\n\nSer Ryman's palfrey shied off with a whinny of fear, and Petyr Pimple's reared and threw him. Only Black Walder kept his mount in hand. He reached for the hilt of his sword. \"No!\" Robb was shouting. \"Grey Wind, here. Here.\" Catelyn spurred between the direwolf and the horses. Mud spattered from the hooves of her mare as she cut in front of Grey Wind. The wolf veered away, and only then seemed to hear Robb calling.\n\n\"Is this how a Stark makes amends?\" Black Walder shouted, with naked steel in hand. \"A poor greeting I call it, to set your wolf upon us. Is this why you've come?\"\n\nSer Ryman had dismounted to help Petyr Pimple back to his feet. The lad was muddy, but unhurt.\n\n\"I've come to make my apology for the wrong I did your House, and to see my uncle wed.\" Robb swung down from the saddle. \"Petyr, take my horse. Yours is almost back to the stable.\"\n\nPetyr looked to his father and said, \"I can ride behind one of my brothers.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Freys made no sign of obeisance. \"You come late,\" Ser Ryman declared.\n\n\"The rains delayed us,\" said Robb. \"I sent a bird.\"\n\n\"I do not seethe woman.\"\n\nBy the woman Ser Ryman meant Jeyne Westerling, all knew. Lady Catelyn smiled apologetically. \"Queen Jeyne was weary after so much travel, sers. No doubt she will be pleased to visit when times are more settled.\"\n\n\"My grandfather will be displeased.\" Though Black Walder had sheathed his sword, his tone was no friendlier. \"I've told him much of the lady, and he wished to behold her with his own eyes.\"\n\nEdwyn cleared his throat. \"We have chambers prepared for you in the Water Tower, Your Grace,\" he told Robb with careful courtesy, \"as well as for Lord Tully and Lady Stark. Your lords bannermen are also welcome to shelter under our roof and partake of the wedding feast.\"\n\n\"And my men?\" asked Robb.\n\n\"My lord grandfather regrets that he cannot feed nor house so large a host. We have been sore pressed to find fodder and provender for our own levies. Nonetheless, your men shall not be neglected. If they will cross and setup their camp beside our own, we will bring out enough casks of wine and ale for all to drink the health of Lord Edmure and his bride. We have thrown up three great feast tents on the far bank, to provide them with some shelter from the rains.\"\n\n\"Your lord father is most kind. My men will thank him. They have had along wet ride.\"\n\nEdmure Tully edged his horse forward. \"When shall I meet my betrothed?\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 48\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Seven,\\\" he agreed, \\\"but no one sings of the Stranger.\\\" The Stranger's face was the face of death. Even talking of him made Sam uncomfortable. \\\"We should eat something. A bite or two.\\\"\\n\\nNothing was left but a few black sausages, as hard as wood. Sam sawed off a few thin slices for each of them. The effort made his wrist ache, but he was hungry enough to persist. If you chewed the slices long enough they softened up, and tasted good. Craster's wives seasoned them with garlic.\\n\\nAfter they had finished, Sam begged her pardon and went out to relieve himself and look after the horse. A biting wind was blowing from the north, and the leaves in the trees rattled at him as he passed. He had to break the thin scum of ice on top of the stream so the horse could get a drink. I had better bring her inside. He did not want to wake up at break of day to find that their horse had frozen to death during the night. Gilly would keep going even if that happened. The girl was very brave, not like him. He wished he knew what he was going to do with her back at Castle Black. She kept saying how she'd be his wife if he wanted, but black brothers didn't keep wives; besides, he was a Tarly of Horn Hill, he could never wed a wildling. I'll have to think of something. So long as we reach the Wall alive, the rest doesn't matter, it doesn't matter one little bit.\\n\\nLeading the horse to the longhall was simple enough. Getting her through the door was not, but Sam persisted. Gilly was already dozing by the time he got the garron inside. He hobbled the horse in a corner, fed some fresh wood to the fire, took off his heavy cloak, and wriggled down under the furs beside the wildling woman. His cloak was big enough to coverall three of them and keep in the warmth of their bodies.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Gilly smelled of milk and garlic and musty old fur, but he was used to that by now. They were good smells, so far as Sam was concerned. He liked sleeping next to her. It made him remember times long past, when he had shared a huge bed at Horn Hill with two of his sisters. That had ended when Lord Randyll decided it was making him soft as a girl. Sleeping alone in my own cold cell never made meany harder or braver, though. He wondered what his father would say if he could see him now. I killed one of the Others, my lord, he imagined saying. I stabbed him with an obsidian dagger, and my Sworn Brothers call me Sam the Slayer now. But even in his fancies, Lord Randyll only scowled, disbelieving.\\n\\nHis dreams were strange that night. He was back at Horn Hill, at the castle, but his father was not there. It was Sam's castle now. Jon Snow was with him. Lord Mormont too, the Old Bear, and Grenn and Dolorous Edd and Pyp and Toad and all his other brothers from the Watch, but they wore bright colors instead of black. Sam sat at the high table and feasted them all, cutting thick slices off a roast with his father's greatsword Heartsbane. There were sweet cakes to eat and honeyed wine to drink, there was singing and dancing, and everyone was warm. When the feast was done he went up to sleep; not to the lord's bedchamber where his mother and father lived but to the room he had once shared with his sisters. Only instead of his sisters it was Gilly waiting in the huge soft bed, wearing nothing but a big shaggy fur, milk leaking from her breasts.\\n\\nHe woke suddenly, in cold and dread.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The fire had burned down to smouldering red embers. The air itself seemed frozen, it was so cold. In the corner the garron was whinnying and kicking the logs with her hind legs. Gilly sat beside the fire, hugging her babe. Sam sat up groggy, his breath puffing pale from his open mouth. The longhall was dark with shadows, black and blacker. The hair on his arms was standing up.\\n\\nIt's nothing, he told himself. I'm cold, that's all.\\n\\nThen, by the door, one of the shadows moved. A big one.\\n\\nThis is still a dream, Sam prayed. Oh, make it that I'm still asleep, make it a nightmare. He's dead, he's dead, I saw him die. \\\"He's come for the babe,\\\" Gilly wept. \\\"He smells him. A babe fresh-born stinks o'life. He's come for the life.\\\"\\n\\nThe huge dark shape stooped under the lintel, into the hall, and shambled toward them. In the dim light of the fire, the shadow became Small Paul.\\n\\n\\\"Go away,\\\" Sam croaked. \\\"We don't want you here.\\\"\\n\\nPaul's hands were coal, his face was milk, his eyes shone a bitter blue. Hoarfrost whitened his beard, and on one shoulder hunched a raven, pecking at his cheek, eating the dead white flesh. Sam's bladder let go, and he felt the warmth running down his legs. \\\"Gilly, calm the horse and lead her out. You do that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You-\\\" she started.\\n\\n\\\"I have the knife. The dragonglass dagger.\\\" He fumbled it out as he got to his feet. He'd given the first knife to Grenn, but thankfully he'd remembered to take Lord Mormont's dagger before fleeing Craster's Keep. He clutched it tight, moving away from the fire, away from Gilly and the babe. \\\"Paul?\\\" He meant to sound brave, but it came out in a squeak. \\\"Small Paul. Do you know me? I'm Sam, fat Sam, Sam the Scared, you saved me in the woods. You carried me when I couldn't walk another step. No one else could have done that, but you did.\\\" Sam backed away, knife in hand, sniveling. I am such a coward. \\\"Don't hurt us, Paul. Please. Why would you want to hurt us?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Gilly scrabbled backward across the hard dirt floor. The wight turned his head to look at her, but Sam shouted'NO!\\\" and he turned back. The raven on his shoulder ripped a strip of flesh from his pale ruined cheek. Sam held the dagger before him, breathing like a blacksmith's bellows. Across the longhall, Gilly reached the garron. Gods give me courage, Sam prayed. For once, give me a little courage. Just long enough for her to getaway.\\n\\nSmall Paul moved toward him. Sam backed off until he came up against a rough log wall. He clutched the dagger with both hands to hold it steady. The wight did not seem to fear the dragonglass. Perhaps he did not know what it was. He moved slowly, but Small Paul had never been quick even when he'd been alive. Behind him, Gilly murmured to calm the garron and tried to urge it toward the door. But the horse must have caught a whiff of the wight's queer cold scent. Suddenly she balked, rearing, her hooves lashing at the frosty air. Paul swung toward the sound, and seemed to lose all interest in Sam.\\n\\nThere was no time to think or pray or be afraid. Samwell Tarly threw himself forward and plunged the dagger down into Small Paul's back. Half-turned, the wight never saw him coming. The raven gave a shriek and took to the air. \\\"You're dead!\\\" Sam screamed as he stabbed. \\\"You're dead, you're dead.\\\" He stabbed and screamed, again and again, tearing huge rents in Paul's heavy black cloak. Shards of dragonglass flew everywhere as the blade shattered on the iron mail beneath the wool.\\n\\nSam's wail made a white mist in the black air. He dropped the useless hilt and took a hasty step backwards as Small Paul twisted around. Before he could get out his other knife, the steel knife that every brother carried, the wight's black hands locked beneath his chins. Paul's fingers were so cold they seemed to burn. They burrowed deep into the soft flesh of Sam's throat. Run, Gilly, run, he wanted to scream, but when he opened his mouth only a choking sound emerged.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His fumbling fingers finally found the dagger, but when he slammed it up into the wight's belly the point skidded off the iron links, and the blade went spinning from Sam's hand. Small Paul's fingers tightened inexorably, and began to twist. He's going to rip my head off, Sam thought in despair. His throat felt frozen, his lungs on fire. He punched and pulled at the wight's wrists, to no avail. He kicked Paul between the legs, uselessly. The world shrank to two blue stars, a terrible crushing pain, and a cold so fierce that his tears froze over his eyes. Sam squirmed and pulled, desperate... and then he lurched forward.\\n\\nSmall Paul was big and powerful, but Sam still outweighed him, and the wights were clumsy, he had seen that on the Fist. The sudden shift sent Paul staggering back a step, and the living man and the dead one went crashing down together. The impact knocked one hand from Sam's throat, and he was able to suck in a quick breath of air before the icy black fingers returned. The taste of blood filled his mouth. He twisted his neck around, looking for his knife, and saw a dull orange glow. The fire! Only ember and ashes remained, but still... he could not breathe, or think... Sam wrenched himself sideways, pulling Paul with him... his arms flailed against the dirt floor, groping, reaching, scattering the ashes, until at last they found something hot... a chunk of charred wood, smouldering red and orange within the black... his fingers closed around it, and he smashed it into Paul's mouth, so hard he felt teeth shatter.\\n\\nYet even so the wight's grip did not loosen. Sam's last thoughts were for the mother who had loved him and the father he had failed. The longhall was spinning around him when he saw the wisp of smoke rising from between Paul's broken teeth. Then the dead man's face burst into flame, and the hands were gone.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Sam sucked in air, and rolled feebly away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The wight was burning, hoarfrost dripping from his beard as the flesh beneath blackened. Sam heard the raven shriek, but Paul himself made no sound. When his mouth opened, only flames came out. And his eyes... It's gone, the blue glow is gone.\\n\\nHe crept to the door. The air was so cold that it hurt to breathe, but such a fine sweet hurt. He ducked from the longhall. \\\"Gilly?\\\" he called. \\\"Gilly, I killed it. Gil-\\\"\\n\\nShe stood with her back against the weirwood, the boy in her arms. The wights were all around her. There were a dozen of them, a score, more... some had been wildlings once, and still wore skins and hides... but more had been his brothers. Sam saw Lark the Sisterman, Softfoot, Ryles. The wen on Chett's neck was black, his boils covered with a thin film of ice. And that one looked like Hake, though it was hard to know for certain with half his head missing. They had torn the poor garron apart, and were pulling out her entrails with dripping red hands. Pale steam rose from her belly.\\n\\nSam made a whimpery sound. \\\"It's not fair...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fair.\\\" The raven landed on his shoulder. \\\"Fair, far, fear.\\\" It flapped its wings, and screamed along with Gilly. The wights were almost on her. He heard the dark red leaves of the weirwood rustling, whispering to one another in a tongue he did not know. The starlight itself seemed to stir, and all around them the trees groaned and creaked. Sam Tarly turned the color of curdled milk, and his eyes went wide as plates. Ravens! They were in the weirwood, hundreds of them, thousands, perched on the bone-white branches, peering between the leaves. He saw their beaks open as they screamed, saw them spread their black wings. Shrieking, flapping, they descended on the wights in angry clouds. They swarmed round Chett's face and pecked at his blue eyes, they covered the Sisterman like flies, they plucked gobbets from inside Hake's shattered head. There were so many that when Sam looked up, he could not seethe moon.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Go,\\\" said the bird on his shoulder.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Go, go, go.\\\"\\n\\nSam ran, puffs of frost exploding from his mouth. All around him the wights flailed at the black wings and sharp beaks that assailed them, falling in an eerie silence with never a grunt nor cry. But the ravens ignored Sam. He took Gilly by the hand and pulled her away from the weirwood. \\\"We have to go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But where?\\\" Gilly hurried after him, holding her baby. \\\"They killed our horse, how will we...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Brother!\\\" The shout cut through the night, through the shrieks of a thousand ravens. Beneath the trees, a man muffled head to heels in mottled blacks and greys sat astride an elk. \\\"Here,\\\" the rider called. A hood shadowed his face.\\n\\nHe's wearing blacks. Sam urged Gilly toward him. The elk was huge, a great elk, ten feet tall at the shoulder, with a rack of antlers near as wide. The creature sank to his knees to let them mount. \\\"Here,\\\" the rider said, reaching down with a gloved hand to pull Gilly up behind him. Then it was Sam's turn. \\\"My thanks,\\\" he puffed. Only when he grasped the offered hand did he realize that the rider wore no glove. His hand was black and cold, with fingers hard as stone.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"ARYA\\n\\nWhen they reached the top of the ridge and saw the river, Sandor Clegane reined up hard and cursed.\\n\\nThe rain was falling from a black iron sky, pricking the green and brown torrent with ten thousand swords. It must be a mile across, Arya thought. The tops of half a hundred trees poked up out the swirling waters, their limbs clutching for the sky like the arms of drowning men. Thick mats of sodden leaves choked the shoreline, and farther out in the channel she glimpsed something pale and swollen, a deer or perhaps a dead horse, moving swiftly downstream. There was a sound too, a low rumble at the edge of hearing, like the sound a dog makes just before he growls.\\n\\nArya squirmed in the saddle and felt the links of the Hound's mail digging into her back. His arms encircled her; on the left, the burned arm, he'd donned a steel vambrace for protection, but she'd seen him change the dressings, and the flesh beneath was still raw and seeping. If the burns pained him, though, Sandor Clegane gave no hint of it.\\n\\n\\\"Is this the Blackwater Rush?\\\" They had ridden so far in rain and darkness, through trackless woods and nameless villages, that Arya had lost all sense of where they were.\\n\\n\\\"It's a river we need to cross, that's all you need to know.\\\" Clegane would answer her from time to time, but he had warned her not to talk back. He had given her a lot of warnings that first day. \\\"The next time you hit me, I'll tie your hands behind your back,\\\" he'd said. \\\"The next time you try and runoff, I'll bind your feet together. Scream or shout or bite me again, and I'll gag you. We can ride double, or I can throw you across the back of the horse trussed up like a sow for slaughter. Your choice.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She had chosen to ride, but the first time they made camp she'd waited until she thought he was asleep, and found a big jagged rock to smash his ugly head in. Quiet as a shadow, she told herself as she crept toward him, but that wasn't quiet enough. The Hound hadn't been asleep after all. Or maybe he'd woken. Whichever it was, his eyes opened, his mouth twitched, and he took the rock away from her as if she were a baby. The best she could do was kick him. \\\"I'll give you that one,\\\" he said, when he flung the rock into the bushes. \\\"But if you're stupid enough to try again, I'll hurt you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why don't you just kill me like you did Mycah?\\\" Arya had screamed at him. She was still defiant then, more angry than scared.\\n\\nHe answered by grabbing the front of her tunic and yanking her within an inch of his burned face. \\\"The next time you say that name I'll beat you so bad you'll wish I killed you.\\\"\\n\\nAfter that, he rolled her in his horse blanket every night when he went to sleep, and tied ropes around her top and bottom so she was bound up as tight as a babe in swaddling clothes.\\n\\nIt has to be the Blackwater, Arya decided as she watched the rain lash the river. The Hound was Joffrey's dog; he was taking her back to the Red Keep, to hand to Joffrey and the queen. She wished that the sun would come out, so she could tell which way they were going. The more she looked at the moss on the trees the more confused she got. The Blackwater wasn't so wide at King's Landing, but that was before the rains.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The fords will all begone,\\\" Sandor Clegane said, \\\"and I wouldn't care to try and swim over neither.\\\"\\n\\nThere's noway across, she thought. Lord Beric will catch us for sure. Clegane had pushed his big black stallion hard, doubling back thrice to throw off pursuit, once even riding half a mile up the center of a swollen stream... but Arya still expected to seethe outlaws every time she looked back. She had tried to help them by scratching her name on the trunks of trees when she went in the bushes to make water, but the fourth time she did it he caught her, and that was the end of that. It doesn't matter, Arya told herself, Thoros will find me in his flames. Only he hadn't. Not yet, anyway, and once they crossed the river...\\n\\n\\\"Harroway town shouldn't be far,\\\" the Hound said. \\\"Where Lord Roote stables Old King Andahar's two-headed water horse. Maybe we'll ride across.\\\"\\n\\nArya had never heard of Old King Andahar. She'd never seen a horse with two heads either, especially not one who could run on water, but she knew better than to ask. She held her tongue and sat stiff as the Hound turned the stallion's head and trotted along the ridgeline, following the river downstream. At least the rain was at their backs this way. She'd had enough of it stinging her eyes half-blind and washing down her cheeks like she was crying. Wolves never cry, she reminded herself again.\\n\\nIt could not have been much past noon, but the sky was dark as dusk. They had not seen the sun in more days than she could count. Arya was soaked to the bone, saddle-sore, sniffling, and achy. She had a fever too, and sometimes shivered uncontrollably, but when she'd told the Hound that she was sick he'd only snarled at her. \\\"Wipe your nose and shut your mouth,\\\" he told her. Half the time he slept in the saddle now, trusting his stallion to follow whatever rutted farm track or game trail they were on. The horse was a heavy courser, almost as big as a destrier but much faster. Stranger, the Hound called him. Arya had tried to steal him once, when Clegane was taking a piss against a tree, thinking she could ride off before he could catch her. Stranger had almost bitten her face off. He was gentle as an old gelding with his master, but otherwise he had a temperas black as he was. She had never known a horse so quick to bite or kick.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"They rode beside the river for hours, splashing across two muddy vassal streams before they reached the place that Sandor Clegane had spoken of.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Lord Harroway's Town,\\\" he said, and then, when he saw it, \\\"Seven hells!\\\" The town was drowned and desolate. The rising waters had overflowed the riverbanks. All that remained of Harroway town was the upper story of a daub-and-wattle inn, the seven-sided dome of a sunken sept, two-thirds of a stone roundtower, some moldy thatch roofs, and a forest of chimneys.\\n\\nBut there was smoke coming from the tower, Arya saw, and below one arched window a wide flat-bottomed boat was chained uptight. The boat had a dozen oarlocks and a pair of great carved wooden horse heads mounted fore and aft. The two-headed horse, she realized. There was a wooden house with a sod roof right in the middle of the deck, and when the Hound cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted two men came spilling out. A third appeared in the window of the roundtower, clutching a loaded crossbow. \\\"What do you want?\\\" he shouted across the swirling brown waters.\\n\\n\\\"Take us over,\\\" the Hound shouted back.\\n\\nThe men in the boat conferred with one another. One of them, a grizzled grey-haired man with thick arms and a bent back, stepped to the rail. \\\"It will cost you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then I'll pay.\\\"\\n\\nWith what? Arya wondered. The outlaws had taken Clegane's gold, but maybe Lord Beric had left him some silver and copper. A ferry ride shouldn't cost more than a few coppers...\\n\\nThe ferrymen were talking again. Finally the bent-backed one turned away and gave a shout. Six more men appeared, pulling up hoods to keep the rain off their heads. Still more squirmed out the holdfast window and leapt down onto the deck. Half of them looked enough like the bent-backed man to be his kin. Some of them undid the chains and took up long poles, while the others slid heavy wide-bladed oars through the locks. The ferry swung about and began to creep slowly toward the shallows, oars stroking smoothly on either side. Sandor Clegane rode down the hill to meet it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When the aft end of the boat slammed into the hillside, the ferrymen opened a wide door beneath the carved horse's head, and extended a heavy oaken plank. Stranger balked at the water's edge, but the Hound put his heels into the courser's flank and urged him up the gangway. The bent-backed man was waiting for them on deck. \\\"Wet enough for you, ser?\\\" he asked, smiling.\\n\\nThe Hound's mouth gave a twitch. \\\"I need your boat, not your bloody wit.\\\" He dismounted, and pulled Arya down beside him. One of the boatmen reached for Stranger's bridle. \\\"I wouldn't,\\\" Clegane said, as the horse kicked. The man leapt back, slipped on the rain-slick deck, and crashed onto his arse, cursing.\\n\\nThe ferryman with the bent back wasn't smiling any longer. \\\"We can get you across,\\\" he said sourly. \\\"It will cost you a gold piece. Another for the horse. A third for the boy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Three dragons?\\\" Clegane gave a bark of laughter. \\\"For three dragons I should own the bloody ferry.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Last year, might be you could. But with this river, I'll need extra hands on the poles and oars just to see we don't get swept a hundred miles out to sea. Here's your choice. Three dragons, or you teach that hellhorse how to walk on water.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I like an honest brigand. Have it your way. Three dragons... when you put us ashore safe on the north bank.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll have them now, or we don't go.\\\" The man thrust out a thick, callused hand, palm up.\\n\\nClegane rattled his longsword to loosen the blade in the scabbard. \\\"Here's your choice. Gold on the north bank, or steel on the south.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The ferryman looked up at the Hound's face. Arya could tell that he didn't like what he saw there. He had a dozen men behind him, strongmen with oars and hardwood poles in their hands, but none of them were rushing forward to help him. Together they could overwhelm Sandor Clegane, though he'd likely kill three or four of them before they took him down. \\\"How do I know you're good for it?\\\" the bent-backed man asked, after a moment.\\n\\nHe's not, she wanted to shout. Instead she bit her lip.\\n\\n\\\"Knight's honor,\\\" the Hound said, unsmiling.\\n\\nHe's not even a knight. She did not say that either.\\n\\n\\\"That will do.\\\" The ferryman spat. \\\"Come on then, we can have you across before dark. Tie the horse up, I don't want him spooking when we're underway. There's a brazier in the cabin if you and your son want to get warm.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm not his stupid son!\\\" said Arya furiously. That was even worse than being taken fora boy. She was so angry that she might have told them who she really was, only Sandor Clegane grabbed her by the back of the collar and hoisted her one-handed off the deck. \\\"How many times do I need to tell you to shut your bloody mouth?\\\" He shook her so hard her teeth rattled, then let her fall. \\\"Get in there and get dry, like the man said.\\\"\\n\\nArya did as she was told. The big iron brazier was glowing red, filling the room with a sullen suffocating heat. It felt pleasant to stand beside it, to warm her hands and dry off a little bit, but as soon as she felt the deck move under her feet she slipped back out through the forward door.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The two-headed horse eased slowly through the shallows, picking its way between the chimneys and rooftops of drowned Harroway. A dozen men labored at the oars while four more used the long poles to push off whenever they came too close to a rock, a tree, or a sunken house. The bent-backed man had the rudder. Rain pattered against the smooth planks of the deck and splashed off the tall carved horseheads fore and aft. Arya was getting soaked again, but she didn't care. She wanted to see. The man with the crossbow still stood in the window of the roundtower, she saw. His eyes followed her as the ferry slid by underneath. She wondered if he was this Lord Roote that the Hound had mentioned. He doesn't look much like a lord. But then, she didn't look much like a lady either.\\n\\nOnce they were beyond the town and out in the river proper, the current grew much stronger. Through the grey haze of rain Arya could make out a tall stone pillar on the far shore that surely marked the ferry landing, but no sooner had she seen it than she realized that they were being pushed away from it, downstream. The oarsmen were rowing more vigorously now, fighting the rage of the river. Leaves and broken branches swirled pastas fast as if they'd been fired from a scorpion. The men with the poles leaned out and shoved away anything that came too close. It was windier out here, too. Whenever she turned to look upstream, Arya got a face full of blowing rain. Stranger was screaming and kicking as the deck moved underfoot.\\n\\nIf I jumped over the side, the river would wash me away before the Hound even knew that I was gone. She looked back over a shoulder, and saw Sandor Clegane struggling with his frightened horse, trying to calm him. She would never have a better chance to getaway from him. I might drown, though. Jon used to say that she swam like a fish, but even a fish might have trouble in this river. Still, drowning might be better than King's Landing. She thought about Joffrey and crept up to the prow. The river was murky brown with mud and lashed by rain, looking more like soup than water. Arya wondered how cold it would be. I couldn't get much wetter than I am now. She put a hand on the rail.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But a sudden shout snapped her head about before she could leap. The ferrymen were rushing forward, poles in hand. Fora moment she did not understand what was happening. Then she saw it: an uprooted tree, huge and dark, coming straight at them. A tangle of roots and limbs poked up out of the water as it came, like the reaching arms of a great kraken. The oarsmen were backing water frantically, trying to avoid a collision that could capsize them or stove their hull in. The old man had wrenched the rudder about, and the horse at the prow was swinging downstream, but too slowly. Glistening brown and black, the tree rushed toward them like a battering ram.\\n\\nIt could not have been more than ten feet from their prow when two of the boatmen somehow caught it with their long poles. One snapped, and the long splintering craaaack made it sound as if the ferry were breaking up beneath them. But the second man managed to give the trunk a hard shove, just enough to deflect it away from them. The tree swept past the ferry with inches to spare, its branches scrabbling like claws against the horsehead. Only just when it seemed as if they were clear, one of the monster's upper limbs dealt them a glancing thump. The ferry seemed to shudder, and Arya slipped, landing painfully on one knee. The man with the broken pole was not so lucky. She heard him shout as he stumbled over the side. Then the raging brown water closed over him, and he was gone in the time it took Arya to climb back to her feet. One of the other boatmen snatched up a coil of rope, but there was no one to throw it to.\\n\\nMaybe he'll wash up someplace downstream, Arya tried to tell herself, but the thought had a hollow ring. She had lost all desire to go swimming. When Sandor Clegane shouted at her to get back inside before he beat her bloody, she went meekly. The ferry was fighting to turn back on course by then, against a river that wanted nothing more than to carry it down to the sea.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When they finally came ashore, it was a good two miles downriver of their usual landing. The boat slammed into the bank so hard that another pole snapped, and Arya almost lost her feet again. Sandor Clegane lifted her onto Stranger's back as if she weighed no more than a doll. The boatmen stared at them with dull, exhausted eyes, all but the bent-backed man, who held his handout. \\\"Six dragons,\\\" he demanded. \\\"Three for the passage, and three for the man I lost.\\\"\\n\\nSandor Clegane rummaged in his pouch and shoved a crumpled wad of parchment into the boatman's palm. \\\"There. Take ten.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ten?\\\" The ferryman was confused. \\\"What's this, now?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A dead man's note, good for nine thousand dragons or nearabouts.\\\" The Hound swung up into the saddle behind Arya, and smiled down unpleasantly. \\\"Ten of it is yours. I'll be back for the rest one day, so see you don't go spending it.\\\"\\n\\nThe man squinted down at the parchment. \\\"Writing. What good's writing? You promised gold. Knight's honor, you said.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Knights have no bloody honor. Time you learned that, old man.\\\" The Hound gave Stranger the spur and galloped off through the rain. The ferrymen threw curses at their backs, and one or two threw stones. Clegane ignored rocks and words alike, and before long they were lost in the gloom of the trees, the river a dwindling roar behind them. \\\"The ferry won't cross back till morning,\\\" he said, \\\"and that lot won't betaking paper promises from the next fools to come along. If your friends are chasing us, they're going to need to be bloody strong swimmers.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Arya huddled down and held her tongue. Valar morghulis, she thought sullenly. Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei. Dunsen, Poliver, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Gregor and the Tickler. And the Hound, the Hound, the Hound.\\n\\nBy the time the rain stopped and the clouds broke, she was shivering and sneezing so badly that Clegane called a halt for the night, and even tried to make afire. The wood they gathered proved too wet, though. Nothing he tried was enough to make the spark catch. Finally he kicked it all apart in disgust. \\\"Seven bloody hells,\\\" he swore. \\\"I hate fires.\\\"\\n\\nThey sat on damp rocks beneath an oak tree, listening to the slow patter of water dripping from the leaves as they ate a cold supper of hardbread, moldy cheese, and smoked sausage. The Hound sliced the meat with his dagger, and narrowed his eyes when he caught Arya looking at the knife. \\\"Don't even think about it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I wasn't,\\\" she lied.\\n\\nHe snorted to show what he thought of that, but he gave her a thick slice of sausage. Arya worried it with her teeth, watching him all the while. \\\"I never beat your sister,\\\" the Hound said. \\\"But I'll beat you if you make me. Stop trying to think up ways to kill me. None of it will do you a bit of good.\\\"\\n\\nShe had nothing to say to that. She gnawed on the sausage and stared at him coldly. Hard as stone, she thought.\\n\\n\\\"At least you look at my face. I'll give you that, you little she-wolf. How do you like it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I don't. It's all burned and ugly.\\\"\\n\\nClegane offered her a chunk of cheese on the point of his dagger. \\\"You're a little fool. What good would it do you if you did getaway? You'd just get caught by someone worse.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I would not,\\\" she insisted. \\\"There is no one worse.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You never knew my brother. Gregor once killed a man for snoring. His own man.\\\" When he grinned, the burned side of his face pulled tight, twisting his mouth in a queer unpleasant way. He had no lips on that side, and only the stump of an ear.\\n\\n\\\"I did so know your brother.\\\" Maybe the Mountain was worse, now that Arya thought about it. \\\"Him and Dunsen and Polliver, and Raff the Sweetling and the Tickler.\\\"\\n\\nThe Hound seemed surprised. \\\"And how would Ned Stark's precious little daughter come to know the likes of them? Gregor never brings his pet rats to court.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know them from the village.\\\" She ate the cheese, and reached fora hunk of hardbread. \\\"The village by the lake where they caught Gendry, me, and Hot Pie. They caught Lommy Greenhands too, but Raff the Sweetling killed him because his leg was hurt.\\\"\\n\\nClegane's mouth twitched. \\\"Caught you? My brother caught you?\\\" That made him laugh, a sour sound, part rumble and part snarl. \\\"Gregor never knew what he had, did he? He couldn't have, or he would have dragged you back kicking and screaming to King's Landing and dumped you in Cersei's lap. Oh, that's bloody sweet. I'll be sure and tell him that, before I cut his heart out.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It wasn't the first time he had talked of killing the Mountain. \\\"But he's your brother,\\\" Arya said dubiously.\\n\\n\\\"Didn't you ever have a brother you wanted to kill?\\\" He laughed again. \\\"Or maybe a sister?\\\" He must have seen something in her face then, for he leaned closer. \\\"Sansa. That's it, isn't it? The wolf bitch wants to kill the pretty bird.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Arya spat back at him. \\\"I'd like to kill you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I hacked your little friend in two? I've killed a lot more than him, I promise you. You think that makes me some monster. Well, maybe it does, but I saved your sister's life too. The day the mob pulled her off her horse, I cut through them and brought her back to the castle, else she would have gotten what Lollys Stokeworth got. And she sang for me. You didn't know that, did you? Your sister sang me a sweet little song.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're lying,\\\" she said at once.\\n\\n\\\"You don't know half as much as you think you do. The Blackwater? Wherein seven hells do you think we are? Where do you think we're going?\\\"\\n\\nThe scorn in his voice made her hesitate. \\\"Back to King's Landing,\\\" she said. \\\"You're bringing me to Joffrey and the queen.\\\" That was wrong, she realized all of a sudden, just from the way he asked the questions. But she had to say something.\\n\\n\\\"Stupid blind little wolf bitch.\\\" His voice was rough and hard as an iron rasp. \\\"Bugger Joffrey, bugger the queen, and bugger that twisted little gargoyle she calls a brother. I'm done with their city, done with their Kingsguard, done with Lannisters. What's a dog to do with lions, I ask you?\\\" He reached for his waterskin, took along pull. Ashe wiped his mouth, he offered the skin to Arya and said, \\\"The river was the Trident, girl. The Trident, not the Blackwater. Make the map in your head, if you can. On the morrow we should reach the kingsroad. We'll make good time after that, straight up to the Twins. It's going to be me who hands you over to that mother of yours. Not the noble lightning lord or that flaming fraud of a priest, the monster.\\\" He grinned at the look on her face. \\\"You think your outlaw friends are the only ones can smell a ransom? Dondarrion took my gold, so I took you. You're worth twice what they stole from me, I'd say. Maybe even more if I sold you back to the Lannisters like you fear, but I won't. Even a dog gets tired of being kicked. If this Young Wolf has the wits the gods gave a toad, he'll make me a lordling and beg me to enter his service. He needs me, though he may not know it yet. Maybe I'll even kill Gregor for him, he'd like that.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He'll never take you,\\\" she spat back. \\\"Not you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then I'll take as much gold as I can carry, laugh in his face, and ride off. If he doesn't take me, he'd be wise to kill me, but he won't. Too much his father's son, from what I hear. Fine with me. Either way I win. And so do you, she-wolf. So stop whimpering and snapping at me, I'm sick of it. Keep your mouth shut and do as I tell you, and maybe we'll even be in time for your uncle's bloody wedding.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"JON\\n\\nThe mare was blown, but Jon could not letup on her. He had to reach the Wall before the Magnar. He would have slept in the saddle if he'd had one; lacking that, it was hard enough to stay ahorse while awake. His wounded leg grew evermore painful. He dare not rest long enough to let it heal. Instead he ripped it open anew each time he mounted up.\\n\\nWhen he crested arise and saw the brown rutted kingsroad before him wending its way north through hill and plain, he patted the mare's neck and said, \\\"Now all we need do is follow the road, girl. Soon the Wall.\\\" His leg had gone as stiff as wood by then, and fever had made him so light-headed that twice he found himself riding in the wrong direction.\\n\\nSoon the Wall. He pictured his friends drinking mulled wine in the common hall. Hobb would be with his kettles, Donal Noye at his forge, Maester Aemon in his rooms beneath the rookery. And the Old Bear? Sam, Grenn, Dolorous Edd, Dywen with his wooden teeth... Jon could only pray that some had escaped the Fist.\\n\\nYgritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body... and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat. You were wrong to love her, a voice whispered. You were wrong to leave her, a different voice insisted. He wondered if his father had been torn the same way, when he'd left Jon's mother to return to Lady Catelyn. He was pledged to Lady Stark, and I am pledged to the Night's Watch.\\n\\nHe almost rode through Mole's Town, so feverish that he did not know where he was. Most of the village was hidden underground, only a handful of small hovels to be seen by the light of the waning moon. The brothel was ashed no bigger than a privy, its red lantern creaking in the wind, a bloodshot eye peering through the blackness. Jon dismounted at the adjoining stable, half-stumbling from the mare's back as he shouted two boys awake. \\\"I need afresh mount, with saddle and bridle,\\\" he told them, in atone that brooked no argument. They brought him that; a skin of wine as well, and half a loaf of brown bread. \\\"Wake the village,\\\" he told them. \\\"Warn them. There are wildlings south of the Wall. Gather your goods and make for Castle Black.\\\" He pulled himself onto the black gelding they'd given him, gritting his teeth at the pain in his leg, and rode hard for the north.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As the stars began to fade in the eastern sky, the Wall appeared before him, rising above the trees and the morning mists. Moonlight glimmered pale against the ice. He urged the gelding on, following the muddy slick road until he saw the stone towers and timbered halls of Castle Black huddled like broken toys beneath the great cliff of ice. By then the Wall glowed pink and purple with the first light of dawn.\\n\\nNo sentries challenged him as he rode past the outbuildings. No one came forth to bar his way. Castle Black seemed as much a ruin as Greyguard. Brown brittle weeds grew between cracks in the stones of the courtyards. Old snow covered the roof of the Flint Barracks and lay in drifts against the north side of Hardin's Tower, where Jon used to sleep before being made the Old Bear's steward. Fingers of soot streaked the Lord Commander's Tower where the smoke had boiled from the windows. Mormont had moved to the King's Tower after the fire, but Jon saw no lights there either. From the ground he could not tell if there were sentries walking the Wall seven hundred feet above, but he saw no one on the huge switchback stair that climbed the south face of the ice like some great wooden thunderbolt.\\n\\nThere was smoke rising from the chimney of the armory, though; only a wisp, almost invisible against the grey northern sky, but it was enough. Jon dismounted and limped toward it. Warmth poured out the open door like the hot breath of summer. Within, one-armed Donal Noye was working his bellows at the fire. He looked up at the noise. \\\"Jon Snow?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"None else.\\\" Despite fever, exhaustion, his leg, the Magnar, the old man, Ygritte, Mance, despite it all, Jon smiled. It was good to be back, good to see Noye with his big belly and pinned-up sleeve, his jaw bristling with black stubble.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The smith released his grip on the bellows. \\\"Your face...\\\"\\n\\nHe had almost forgotten about his face. \\\"A skinchanger tried to rip out my eye.\\\"\\n\\nNoye frowned. \\\"Scarred or smooth, it's a face I thought I'd seen the last of. We heard you'd gone over to Mance Raydar.\\\"\\n\\nJon grasped the door to stay upright. \\\"Who told you that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Jarman Buckwell. He returned a fortnight past. His scouts claim they saw you with their own eyes, riding along beside the wildling column and wearing a sheepskin cloak.\\\" Noye eyed him. \\\"I seethe last part's true.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's all true,\\\" Jon confessed. \\\"As far as it goes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Should I be pulling down a sword to gut you, then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. I was acting on orders. Qhorin Halfhand's last command. Noye, where is the garrison?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Defending the Wall against your wildling friends.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, but where?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Everywhere. Harma Dogshead was seen at Woodswatch-by-the-Pool, Rattleshirt at Long Barrow, the Weeper near Icemark. All along the Wall... they're here, they're there, they're climbing near Queensgate, they're hacking at the gates of Greyguard, they're massing against Eastwatch... but one glimpse of a black cloak and they're gone. Next day they're somewhere else.\\\"\\n\\nJon swallowed a groan. \\\"Feints. Mance wants us to spread ourselves thin, don't you see?\\\" And Bowen Marsh has obliged him. \\\"The gate is here. The attack is here.\\\"\\n\\nNoye crossed the room. \\\"Your leg is drenched in blood.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jon looked down dully. It was true. His wound had opened again. \\\"An arrow wound...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A wildling arrow.\\\" It was not a question. Noye had only one arm, but that was thick with muscle. He slid it under Jon's to help support him. \\\"You're white as milk, and burning hot besides. I'm taking you to Aemon.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There's no time. There are wildlings south of the Wall, coming up from Queenscrown to open the gate.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How many?\\\" Noye half-carried Jon out the door.\\n\\n\\\"A hundred and twenty, and well armed for wildlings. Bronze armor, some bits of steel. How many men are left here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Forty odd,\\\" said Donal Noye. \\\"The crippled and infirm, and some green boys still in training.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If Marsh is gone, who did he name as castellan?\\\"\\n\\nThe armorer laughed. \\\"Ser Wynton, gods preserve him. Last knight in the castle and all. The thing is, Stout seems to have forgotten and no one's been rushing to remind him. I suppose I'm as much a commander as we have now. The meanest of the cripples.\\\"\\n\\nThat was for the good, at least. The one-armed armorer was hardheaded, tough, and well seasoned in war. Ser Wynton Stout, on the other hand... well, he had been a good man once, everyone agreed, but he had been eighty years a ranger, and both strength and wits were gone. Once he'd fallen asleep at supper and almost drowned in a bowl of pea soup.\\n\\n\\\"Where's your wolf?\\\" Noye asked as they crossed the yard.\\n\\n\\\"Ghost. I had to leave him when I climbed the Wall. I'd hoped he'd make his way back here.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I'm sorry, lad. There's been no sign of him.\\\" They limped up to the maester's door, in the long wooden keep beneath the rookery. The armorer gave it a kick. \\\"Clydas!\\\"\\n\\nAfter a momenta stooped, round-shouldered little man in black peered out. His small pink eyes widened at the sight of Jon. \\\"Lay the lad down, I'll fetch the maester.\\\"\\n\\nAfire was burning in the hearth, and the room was almost stuffy. The warmth made Jon sleepy. As soon as Noye eased him down onto his back, he closed his eyes to stop the world from spinning. He could hear the ravens quork ing and complaining in the rookery above. \\\"Snow,\\\" one bird was saying. \\\"Snow, snow, snow.\\\" That was Sam's doing, Jon remembered. Had Samwell Tarly made it home safely, he wondered, or only the birds?\\n\\nMaester Aemon was not long incoming. He moved slowly, one spotted hand on Clydas's arm as he shuffled forward with small careful steps. Around his thin neck his chain hung heavy, gold and silver links glinting amongst iron, lead, tin, and other base metals. \\\"Jon Snow,\\\" he said, \\\"you must tell me all you've seen and done when you are stronger. Donal, put a kettle of wine on the fire, and my irons as well. I will want them red-hot. Clydas, I shall need that good sharp knife of yours.\\\" The maester was more than a hundred years old; shrunken, frail, hairless, and quite blind. But if his milky eyes saw nothing, his wits were still as sharp as they had ever been.\\n\\n\\\"There are wildlings coming,\\\" Jon told him, as Clydas ran a blade up the leg of his breeches, slicing the heavy black cloth, crusty with old blood and sodden with new. \\\"From the south. We climbed the Wall...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Maester Aemon gave Jon's crude bandage a sniff when Clydas cut it away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was with them. Qhorin Halfhand commanded me to join them.\\\" Jon winced as the maester's finger explored his wound, poking and prodding. \\\"The Magnar of Thenn-aaaaah, that hurts.\\\" He clenched his teeth. \\\"Where is the Old Bear?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Jon... it grieves me to say, but Lord Commander Mormont was murdered at Craster's Keep, at the hands of his Sworn Brothers.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bro... our own men?\\\" Aemon's words hurt a hundred times worse than his fingers. Jon remembered the Old Bear as last he'd seen him, standing before his tent with his raven on his arm croaking for corn. Mormont gone? He had feared it ever since he'd seen the aftermath of battle on the Fist, yet it was no less a blow. \\\"Who was it? Who turned on him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Garth of Oldtown, Ollo Lophand, Dirk... thieves, cowards and killers, the lot of them. We should have seen it coming. The Watch is not what it was. Too few honest men to keep the rogues inline.\\\" Donal Noye turned the maester's blades in the fire. \\\"A dozen true men made it back. Dolorous Edd, Giant, your friend the Aurochs. We had the tale from them.\\\"\\n\\nOnly a dozen? Two hundred men had left Castle Black with Lord Commander Mormont, two hundred of the Watch's best. \\\"Does this mean Marsh is Lord Commander, then?\\\" The Old Pomegranate was amiable, and a diligent First Steward, but he was woefully ill-suited to face a wildling host.\\n\\n\\\"For the nonce, until we can hold a choosing,\\\" said Maester Aemon. \\\"Clydas, bring me the flask.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A choosing. With Qhorin Halfhand and Ser Jaremy Rykker both dead and Ben Stark still missing, who was there? Not Bowen Marsh or Ser Wynton Stout, that was certain. Had Thoren Smallwood survived the Fist, or Ser Ottyn Wythers? No, it will be Cotter Pyke or Ser Denys Mallister. Which, though? The commanders at the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch were good men, but very different; Ser Denys courtly and cautious, as chivalrous as he was elderly, Pyke younger, bastard-born, rough-tongued, and bold to a fault. Worse, the two men despised each other. The Old Bear had always kept them far apart, at opposite ends of the Wall. The Mallisters had a bone-deep mistrust of the ironborn, Jon knew.\\n\\nA stab of pain reminded him of his own woes. The maester squeezed his hand. \\\"Clydas is bringing milk of the poppy.\\\"\\n\\nJon tried to rise. \\\"I don't need-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You do,\\\" Aemon said firmly. \\\"This will hurt.\\\"\\n\\nDonal Noye crossed the room and shoved Jon back onto his back. \\\"Be still, or I'll tie you down.\\\" Even with only one arm, the smith handled him as if he were a child. Clydas returned with a green flask and a rounded stone cup. Maester Aemon poured it full. \\\"Drink this.\\\"\\n\\nJon had bitten his lip in his struggles. He could taste blood mingled with the thick, chalky potion. It was all he could do not to retch it backup.\\n\\nClydas brought a basin of warm water, and Maester Aemon washed the pus and blood from his wound. Gentle as he was, even the lightest touch made Jon want to scream. \\\"The Magnar's men are disciplined, and they have bronze armor,\\\" he told them. Talking helped keep his mind off his leg.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The Magnar's a lord on Skagos,\\\" Noye said. \\\"There were Skagossons at Eastwatch when I first came to the Wall, I remember hearing them talk of him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Jon was using the word in its older sense, I think,\\\" Maester Aemon said, \\\"not as a family name but as a title. It derives from the Old Tongue.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It means lord,\\\" Jon agreed. \\\"Styr is the Magnar of someplace called Thenn, in the far north of the Frostfangs. He has a hundred of his own men, and a score of raiders who know the Gift almost as well as we do. Mance never found the horn, though, that's something. The Horn of Winter, that's what he was digging for up along the Milkwater.\\\"\\n\\nMaester Aemon paused, washcloth in hand. \\\"The Horn of Winter is an ancient legend. Does the King-beyond-the-Wall truly believe that such a thing exists?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They all do,\\\" said Jon. \\\"Ygritte said they opened a hundred graves... graves of kings and heroes, allover the valley of the Milkwater, but they never...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who is Ygritte?\\\" Donal Noye asked pointedly.\\n\\n\\\"A woman of the free folk.\\\" How could he explain Ygritte to them? She's warm and smart and funny and she can kiss a manor slit his throat. \\\"She's with Styr, but she's not... she's young, only a girl, in truth, wild, but she...\\\" She killed an old man for building afire. His tongue felt thick and clumsy. The milk of the poppy was clouding his wits. \\\"I broke my vows with her. I never meant to, but...\\\" It was wrong. Wrong to love her, wrong to leave her...\\\"I wasn't strong enough. The Halfhand commanded me, ride with them, watch, I must not balk, I...\\\" His head felt as if it were packed with wet wool.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Maester Aemon sniffed Jon's wound again.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then he put the bloody cloth back in the basin and said, \\\"Donal, the hot knife, if you please. I shall need you to hold him still.\\\"\\n\\nI will not scream, Jon told himself when he saw the blade glowing red hot. But he broke that vow as well. Donal Noye held him down, while Clydas helped guide the maester's hand. Jon did not move, except to pound his fist against the table, again and again and again. The pain was so huge he felt small and weak and helpless inside it, a child whimpering in the dark. Ygritte, he thought, when the stench of burning flesh was in his nose and his own shriek echoing in her ears. Ygritte, I had to. For half a heartbeat the agony started to ebb. But then the iron touched him once again, and he fainted.\\n\\nWhen his eyelids fluttered open, he was wrapped in thick wool and floating. He could not seem to move, but that did not matter. Fora time he dreamed that Ygritte was with him, tending him with gentle hands. Finally he closed his eyes and slept.\\n\\nThe next waking was not so gentle. The room was dark, but under the blankets the pain was back, a throbbing in his leg that turned into a hot knife at the least motion. Jon learned that the hard way when he tried to see if he still had a leg. Gasping, he swallowed a scream and made another fist.\\n\\n\\\"Jon?\\\" A candle appeared, and a well-remembered face was looking down on him, big ears and all. \\\"You shouldn't move.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pyp?\\\" Jon reached up, and the other boy clasped his hand and gave it a squeeze. \\\"I thought you'd gone...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"... with the Old Pomegranate? No, he thinks I'm too small and green. Grenn's here too.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm here too.\\\" Grenn stepped to the other side of the bed. \\\"I fell asleep.\\\"\\n\\nJon's throat was dry. \\\"Water,\\\" he gasped. Grenn brought it, and held it to his lips. \\\"I saw the Fist,\\\" he said, after along swallow. \\\"The blood, and the dead horses... Noye said a dozen made it back... who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Dywen did. Giant, Dolorous Edd, Sweet Donnel Hill, Ulmer, Left Hand Lew, Garth Greyfeather. Four or five more. Me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sam?\\\"\\n\\nGrenn looked away. \\\"He killed one of the Others, Jon. I saw it. He stabbed him with that dragonglass knife you made him, and we started calling him Sam the Slayer. He hated that.\\\"\\n\\nSam the Slayer. Jon could hardly imagine a less likely warrior than Sam Tarly. \\\"What happened to him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We left him.\\\" Grenn sounded miserable. \\\"I shook him and screamed at him, even slapped his face. Giant tried to drag him to his feet, but he was too heavy. Remember in training how he'd curl upon the ground and lie there whimpering? At Craster's he wouldn't even whimper. Dirk and Ollo were tearing up the walls looking for food, Garth and Garth were fighting, some of the others were raping Craster's wives. Dolorous Edd figured Dirk's bunch would kill all the loyal men to keep us from telling what they'd done, and they had us two to one. We left Sam with the Old Bear. He wouldn't move, Jon.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"You were his brother, he almost said. How could you leave him amongst wildlings and murderers?\\n\\n\\\"He might still be alive,\\\" said Pyp. \\\"He might surprise us all and come riding up tomorrow.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"With Mance Rayder's head, aye.\\\" Grenn was trying to sound cheerful, Jon could tell. \\\"Sam the Slayer!\\\"\\n\\nJon tried to sit again. It was as much a mistake as the first time. He cried out, cursing.\\n\\n\\\"Grenn, go wake Maester Aemon,\\\" said Pyp. \\\"Tell him Jon needs more milk of the poppy.\\\"\\n\\nYes, Jon thought. \\\"No,\\\" he said. \\\"The Magnar...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We know,\\\" said Pyp. \\\"The sentries on the Wall have been told to keep one eye on the south, and Donal Noye dispatched some men to Weatherback Ridge to watch the kingsroad. Maester Aemon's sent birds to Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower too.\\\"\\n\\nMaester Aemon shuffled to the bedside, one hand on Grenn's shoulder. \\\"Jon, be gentle with yourself. It is good that you have woken, but you must give yourself time to heal. We drowned the wound with boiling wine, and closed you up with a poultice of nettle, mustard seed and moldy bread, but unless you rest...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can't.\\\" Jon fought through the pain to sit. \\\"Mance will be here soon... thousands of men, giants, mammoths... has word been sent to Winterfell? To the king?\\\" Sweat dripped off his brow. He closed his eyes a moment.\\n\\nGrenn gave Pyp a strange look. \\\"He doesn't know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Jon,\\\" said Maester Aemon, \\\"much and more happened while you were away, and little of it good. Balon Greyjoy has crowned himself again and sent his longships against the north. Kings sprout like weeds at every hand and we have sent appeals to all of them, yet none will come. They have more pressing uses for their swords, and we are far off and forgotten. And Winterfell... Jon, be strong... Winterfell is no more...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No more?\\\" Jon stared at Aemon's white eyes and wrinkled face. \\\"My brothers are at Winterfell. Bran and Rickon...\\\"\\n\\nThe maester touched his brow. \\\"I am so very sorry, Jon. Your brothers died at the command of Theon Greyjoy, after he took Winterfell in his father's name. When your father's bannermen threatened to retake it, he put the castle to the torch.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your brothers were avenged,\\\" Grenn said. \\\"Bolton's son killed all the ironmen, and it's said he's flaying Theon Greyjoy inch by inch for what he did.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm sorry, Jon.\\\" Pyp squeezed his shoulder. \\\"We are all.\\\"\\n\\nJon had never liked Theon Greyjoy, but he had been their father's ward. Another spasm of pain twisted up his leg, and the next he knew he was flat on his back again. \\\"There's some mistake,\\\" he insisted. \\\"At Queenscrown I saw a direwolf, a grey direwolf... grey... it knew me.\\\" If Bran was dead, could some part of him live on in his wolf, as Orell lived within his eagle?\\n\\n\\\"Drink this.\\\" Grenn held a cup to his lips. Jon drank. His head was full of wolves and eagles, the sound of his brothers'laughter. The faces above him began to blur and fade. They can't be dead. Theon would never do that. And Winterfell... grey granite, oak andiron, crows wheeling around the towers, steam rising off the hot pools in the godswood, the stone kings sitting on their thrones... how could Winterfell begone?\\n\\nWhen the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father's face. Ygritte was with him, laughing at him, shedding her skins till she was naked as her name day, trying to kiss him, but he couldn't, not with his father watching. He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night's Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not. \\\"You know nothing, Jon Snow,\\\" she whispered, her skin dissolving in the hot water, the flesh beneath sloughing off her bones until only skull and skeleton remained, and the pool bubbled thick and red.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"CATELYN\\n\\nThey heard the Green Fork before they saw it, an endless susurrus, like the growl of some great beast. The river was a boiling torrent, half again as wide as it had been last year, when Robb had divided his army here and vowed to take a Frey to bride as the price of his crossing. He needed Lord Walder and his bridge then, and he needs them even more now. Catelyn's heart was full of misgivings as she watched the murky green waters swirl past. There is noway we will ford this, nor swim across, and it could be a moon's turn before these waters fall again.\\n\\nAs they neared the Twins, Robb donned his crown and summoned Catelyn and Edmure to ride beside him. Ser Raynald Westerling bore his banner, the direwolf of Stark on its ice-white field.\\n\\nThe gatehouse towers emerged from the rain like ghosts, hazy grey apparitions that grew more solid the closer they rode. The Frey stronghold was not one castle but two; mirror images in wet stone standing on opposite sides of the water, linked by a great arched bridge. From the center of its span rose the Water Tower, the river running straight and swift below. Channels had been cut from the banks, to form moats that made each twin an island. The rains had turned the moats to shallow lakes.\\n\\nAcross the turbulent waters, Catelyn could see several thousand men encamped around the eastern castle, their banners hanging like so many drowned cats from the lances outside their tents. The rain made it impossible to distinguish colors and devices. Most were grey, it seemed to her, though beneath such skies the whole world seemed grey.\\n\\n\\\"Tread lightly here, Robb,\\\" she cautioned her son. \\\"Lord Walder has a thin skin and a sharp tongue, and some of these sons of his will doubtless take after their father. You must not let yourself be provoked.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I know the Freys, Mother. I know how much I wronged them, and how much I need them. I shall be as sweet as a septon.\\\"\\n\\nCatelyn shifted her seat uncomfortably. \\\"If we are offered refreshment when we arrive, on no account refuse. Take what is offered, and eat and drink where all can see. If nothing is offered, ask for bread and cheese and a cup of wine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm more wet than hungry...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Robb, listen tome. Once you have eaten of his bread and salt, you have the guest right, and the laws of hospitality protect you beneath his roof.\\\"\\n\\nRobb looked more amused than afraid. \\\"I have an army to protect me, Mother, I don't need to trust in bread and salt. But if it pleases Lord Walder to serve me stewed crow smothered in maggots, I'll eat it and ask fora second bowl.\\\"\\n\\nFour Freys rode out from the western gatehouse, wrapped in heavy cloaks of thick grey wool. Catelyn recognized Ser Ryman, son of the late Ser Stevron, Lord Walder's firstborn. With his father dead, Ryman was heir to the Twins. The face she saw beneath his hood was fleshy, broad, and stupid. The other three were likely his own sons, Lord Walder's great grandsons.\\n\\nEdmure confirmed as much. \\\"Edwyn is eldest, the pale slender man with the constipated look. The wiry one with the beard is Black Walder, a nasty bit of business. Petyr is on the bay, the lad with the unfortunate face. Petyr Pimple, his brothers call him. Only a year or two older than Robb, but Lord Walder married him off at ten to a woman thrice his age. Gods, I hope Roslin doesn't take after him.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They halted to let their hosts come to them. Robb's banner drooped on its staff, and the steady sound of rainfall mingled with the rush of the swollen Green Fork on their right. Grey Wind edged forward, tail stiff, watching through slitted eyes of dark gold. When the Freys were a half-dozen yards away Catelyn heard him growl, a deep rumble that seemed almost one with rush of the river. Robb looked startled. \\\"Grey Wind, tome. Tome!\\\"\\n\\nInstead the direwolf leapt forward, snarling.\\n\\nSer Ryman's palfrey shied off with a whinny of fear, and Petyr Pimple's reared and threw him. Only Black Walder kept his mount in hand. He reached for the hilt of his sword. \\\"No!\\\" Robb was shouting. \\\"Grey Wind, here. Here.\\\" Catelyn spurred between the direwolf and the horses. Mud spattered from the hooves of her mare as she cut in front of Grey Wind. The wolf veered away, and only then seemed to hear Robb calling.\\n\\n\\\"Is this how a Stark makes amends?\\\" Black Walder shouted, with naked steel in hand. \\\"A poor greeting I call it, to set your wolf upon us. Is this why you've come?\\\"\\n\\nSer Ryman had dismounted to help Petyr Pimple back to his feet. The lad was muddy, but unhurt.\\n\\n\\\"I've come to make my apology for the wrong I did your House, and to see my uncle wed.\\\" Robb swung down from the saddle. \\\"Petyr, take my horse. Yours is almost back to the stable.\\\"\\n\\nPetyr looked to his father and said, \\\"I can ride behind one of my brothers.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Freys made no sign of obeisance. \\\"You come late,\\\" Ser Ryman declared.\\n\\n\\\"The rains delayed us,\\\" said Robb. \\\"I sent a bird.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not seethe woman.\\\"\\n\\nBy the woman Ser Ryman meant Jeyne Westerling, all knew. Lady Catelyn smiled apologetically. \\\"Queen Jeyne was weary after so much travel, sers. No doubt she will be pleased to visit when times are more settled.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My grandfather will be displeased.\\\" Though Black Walder had sheathed his sword, his tone was no friendlier. \\\"I've told him much of the lady, and he wished to behold her with his own eyes.\\\"\\n\\nEdwyn cleared his throat. \\\"We have chambers prepared for you in the Water Tower, Your Grace,\\\" he told Robb with careful courtesy, \\\"as well as for Lord Tully and Lady Stark. Your lords bannermen are also welcome to shelter under our roof and partake of the wedding feast.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And my men?\\\" asked Robb.\\n\\n\\\"My lord grandfather regrets that he cannot feed nor house so large a host. We have been sore pressed to find fodder and provender for our own levies. Nonetheless, your men shall not be neglected. If they will cross and setup their camp beside our own, we will bring out enough casks of wine and ale for all to drink the health of Lord Edmure and his bride. We have thrown up three great feast tents on the far bank, to provide them with some shelter from the rains.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your lord father is most kind. My men will thank him. They have had along wet ride.\\\"\\n\\nEdmure Tully edged his horse forward. \\\"When shall I meet my betrothed?\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2278,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Co-write with the author and continue the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 51"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Freys made no sign of obeisance. \"You come late,\" Ser Ryman declared.\n\n\"The rains delayed us,\" said Robb. \"I sent a bird.\"\n\n\"I do not seethe woman.\"\n\nBy the woman Ser Ryman meant Jeyne Westerling, all knew. Lady Catelyn smiled apologetically. \"Queen Jeyne was weary after so much travel, sers. No doubt she will be pleased to visit when times are more settled.\"\n\n\"My grandfather will be displeased.\" Though Black Walder had sheathed his sword, his tone was no friendlier. \"I've told him much of the lady, and he wished to behold her with his own eyes.\"\n\nEdwyn cleared his throat. \"We have chambers prepared for you in the Water Tower, Your Grace,\" he told Robb with careful courtesy, \"as well as for Lord Tully and Lady Stark. Your lords bannermen are also welcome to shelter under our roof and partake of the wedding feast.\"\n\n\"And my men?\" asked Robb.\n\n\"My lord grandfather regrets that he cannot feed nor house so large a host. We have been sore pressed to find fodder and provender for our own levies. Nonetheless, your men shall not be neglected. If they will cross and setup their camp beside our own, we will bring out enough casks of wine and ale for all to drink the health of Lord Edmure and his bride. We have thrown up three great feast tents on the far bank, to provide them with some shelter from the rains.\"\n\n\"Your lord father is most kind. My men will thank him. They have had along wet ride.\"\n\nEdmure Tully edged his horse forward. \"When shall I meet my betrothed?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"She waits for you within,\" promised Edwyn Frey."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You will forgive her if she seems shy, I know. She has been awaiting this day most anxiously, poor maid. But perhaps we might continue this out of the rain?\"\n\n\"Truly.\" Ser Ryman mounted up again, pulling Petyr Pimple up behind him. \"If you would follow me, my father awaits.\" He turned the palfrey's head back towrd the Twins.\n\nEdmure fell in beside Catelyn. \"The Late Lord Frey might have seen fit to welcome us in person,\" he complained. \"I am his liege lord as well as his son-to-be, and Robb's his king.\"\n\n\"When you are one-and-ninety, Brother, see how eager you are to go riding in the rain.\" Yet she wondered if that was the whole truth of it. Lord Walder normally went about in a covered litter, which would have kept the worst of the rain off him. A deliberate slight? If so, it might be the first of many yet to come.\n\nThere was more trouble at the gatehouse. Grey Wind balked in the middle of the drawbridge, shook the rain off, and howled at the portcullis. Robb whistled impatiently. \"Grey Wind. What is it? Grey Wind, with me.\" But the direwolf only bared his teeth. He does not like this place, Catelyn thought. Robb had to squat and speak softly to the wolf before he would consent to pass beneath the portcullis. By then Lame Lothar and Walder Rivers had come up. \"It's the sound of the water he fears,\" Rivers said. \"Beasts know to avoid the river in flood.\"\n\n\"A dry kennel and a leg of mutton will see him right again,\" said Lothar cheerfully. \"Shall I summon our master of hounds?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"He's a direwolf, not a dog,\" said Robb, \"and dangerous to men he does not trust."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ser Raynald, stay with him. I won't take him into Lord Walder's hall like this.\"\n\nDeftly done, Catelyn decided. Robb keeps the Westerling out of Lord Walder's sight as well.\n\nGout and brittle bones had taken their toll of old Walder Frey. They found him propped up in his high seat with a cushion beneath him and an ermine robe across his lap. His chair was black oak, its back carved into the semblance of two stout towers joined by an arched bridge, so massive that its embrace turned the old man into a grotesque child. There was something of the vulture about Lord Walder, and rather more of the weasel. His bald head, spotted with age, thrust out from his scrawny shoulders on along pink neck. Loose skin dangled beneath his receding chin, his eyes were runny and clouded, and his toothless mouth moved constantly, sucking at the empty air as a babe sucks at his mother's breast.\n\nThe eighth Lady Frey stood beside Lord Walder's high seat. At his feet sat a somewhat younger version of himself, a stooped thin man of fifty whose costly garb of blue wool and grey satin was strangely accented by a crown and collar ornamented with tiny brass bells. The likeness between him and his lord was striking, save for their eyes; Lord Frey's small, dim, and suspicious, the other's large, amiable, and vacant. Catelyn recalled that one of Lord Walder's brood had fathered a halfwit long years ago. During past visits, the Lord of the Crossing had always taken care to hide this one away. Did he always wear a fool's crown, or is that meant as mockery of Robb? It was a question she dare not ask."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Frey sons, daughters, children, grandchildren, husbands, wives and servants crowded the rest of the hall. But it was the old man who spoke. \"You will forgive me if I do not kneel, I know. My legs no longer work as they did, though that which hangs between \"em serves well enough, heh.\" His mouth split in a toothless smile as he eyed Robb's crown. \"Some would say it's a poor king who crowns himself with bronze, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Bronze andiron are stronger than gold and silver,\" Robb answered. \"The old Kings of Winter wore such a sword-crown.\"\n\n\"Small good it did them when the dragons came. Heh.\" That heh seemed to please the lackwit, who bobbed his head from side to side, jingling crown and collar. \"Sire,\" Lord Walder said, \"forgive my Aegon the noise. He has less wits than a crannogman, and he's never meta king before. One of Stevron's boys. We call him Jinglebell.\"\n\n\"Ser Stevron mentioned him, my lord.\" Robb smiled at the lackwit. \"Well met, Aegon. Your father was a brave man.\"\n\nJinglebell jingled his bells. A thin line of spit ran from one corner of his mouth when he smiled.\n\n\"Save your royal breath. You'd do as well talking to a chamberpot.\" Lord Walder shifted his gaze to the others. \"Well, Lady Catelyn, I see you have returned to us. And young Ser Edmure, the victor of the Stone Mill. Lord Tully now, I'll need to remember that. You're the fifth Lord Tully I've known. I outlived the other four, heh. Your bride's about here somewhere. I suppose you want a look at her.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I would, my lord.\"\n\n\"Then you'll have it. But clothed. She's a modest girl, and a maid. You won't see her naked till the bedding.\" Lord Walder cackled. \"Heh. Soon enough, soon enough.\" He craned his head about. \"Benfrey, go fetch your sister. Be quick about it, Lord Tully's come all the way from Riverrun.\" A young knight in a quartered surcoat bowed and took his leave, and the old man turned back to Robb. \"And where's your bride, Your Grace? The fair Queen Jeyne. A Westerling of the Crag, I'm told, heh.\"\n\n\"I left her at Riverrun, my lord. She was too weary for more travel, as we told Ser Ryman.\"\n\n\"That makes me grievous sad. I wanted to behold her with mine own weak eyes. We all did, heh. Isn't that so, my lady?\"\n\nPale wispy Lady Frey seemed startled that she would be called upon to speak. \"Y-yes, my lord. We all so wanted to pay homage to Queen Jeyne. She must be fair to look on.\"\n\n\"She is most fair, my lady.\" There was an icy stillness in Robb's voice that reminded Catelyn of his father.\n\nThe old man either did not hear it or refused to pay it any heed. \"Fairer than my own get, heh? Elsewise how could her face and form have made the King's Grace forget his solemn promise.\"\n\nRobb suffered the rebuke with dignity. \"No words can set that right, I know, but I have come to make my apologies for the wrong I did your House, and to beg for your forgiveness, my lord.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Apologies, heh. Yes, you vowed to make one, I recall. I'm old, but I don't forget such things. Not like some kings, it seems. The young remember nothing when they see a pretty face and a nice firm pair of teats, isn't that so? I was the same. Some might say I still am, heh heh. They'd be wrong, though, wrong as you were. But now you're hereto make amends. It was my girls you spurned, though. Mayhaps it's them should hear you beg for pardon, Your Grace. My maiden girls. Here, have a look at them.\" When he waggled his fingers, a flurry of femininity left their places by the walls to lineup beneath the dais. Jinglebell started to rise as well, his bells ringing merrily, but Lady Frey grabbed the lackwit's sleeve and tugged him back down.\n\nLord Walder named the names. \"My daughter Arwyn,\" he said of a girl of fourteen. \"Shirei, my youngest trueborn daughter. Ami and Marianne are granddaughters. I married Ami to Ser Pate of Sevenstreams, but the Mountain killed the oaf so I got her back. That's a Cersei, but we call her Little Bee, her mother's a Beesbury. More granddaughters. One's a Walda, and the others... well, they have names, whatever they are...\"\n\n\"I'm Merry, Lord Grandfather,\" one girl said.\n\n\"You're noisy, that's for certain. Next to Noisy is my daughter Tyta. Then another Walda. Alyx, Marissa... are you Marissa? I thought you were. She's not always bald. The maester shaved her hair off, but he swears it will soon grow back. The twins are Serra and Sarra.\" He squinted down atone of the younger girls. \"Heh, are you another Walda?\""},{"from":"human","value":"The girl could not have been more than four."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I'm Ser Aemon Rivers's Walda, lord great grandfather.\" She curtsied.\n\n\"How long have you been talking? Not that you're like to have anything sensible to say, your father never did. He's a bastard's son besides, heh. Go away, I wanted only Freys up here. The King in the North has no interest in base stock.\" Lord Walder glanced to Robb, as Jinglebell bobbed his head and chimed. \"There they are, all maidens. Well, and one widow, but there's some who like a woman broken in. You might have had anyone of them.\"\n\n\"It would have been an impossible choice, my lord,\" said Robb with careful courtesy. \"They're all too lovely.\"\n\nLord Walder snorted. \"And they say my eyes are bad. Some will do well enough, I suppose. Others... well, it makes no matter. They weren't good enough for the King in the North, heh. Now what is it you have to say?\"\n\n\"My ladies.\" Robb looked desperately uncomfortable, but he had known this moment must come, and he faced it without flinching. \"All men should keep their word, kings most of all. I was pledged to marry one of you and I broke that vow. The fault is not in you. What I did was not done to slight you, but because I loved another. No words can set it right, I know, yet I come before you to ask forgiveness, that the Freys of the Crossing and the Starks of Winterfell may once again befriends.\"\n\nThe smaller girls fidgeted anxiously. Their older sisters waited for Lord Walder on his black oak throne. Jinglebell rocked back and forth, bells chiming on collar and crown."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Good,\" the Lord of the Crossing said. \"That was very good, Your Grace. \"No words can set it right,\" heh. Well said, well said. At the wedding feast I hope you will not refuse to dance with my daughters. It would please an old man's heart, heh.\" He bobbed his wrinkled pink head up and down, in much the same way his lackwit grandson did, though Lord Walder wore no bells. \"And here she is, Lord Edmure. My daughter Roslin, my most precious little blossom, heh.\"\n\nSer Benfrey led her into the hall. They looked enough alike to be full siblings. Judging from their age, both were children of the sixth Lady Frey; a Rosby, Catelyn seemed to recall.\n\nRoslin was small for her years, her skin as white as if she had just risen from a milk bath. Her face was comely, with a small chin, delicate nose, and big brown eyes. Thick chestnut hair fell in loose waves to a waist so tiny that Edmure would be able to put his hands around it. Beneath the lacy bodice of her pale blue gown, her breasts looked small but shapely.\n\n\"Your Grace.\" The girl went to her knees. \"Lord Edmure, I hope I am not a disappointment to you.\"\n\nFar from it, thought Catelyn. Her brother's face had lit up at the sight of her. \"You area delight tome, my lady,\" Edmure said. \"And ever will be, I know.\"\n\nRoslin had a small gap between two of her front teeth that made her shy with her smiles, but the flaw was almost endearing. Pretty enough, Catelyn thought, but so small, and she comes of Rosby stock. The Rosbys had never been robust. She much preferred the frames of some of the older girls in the hall; daughters or granddaughters, she could not be sure. They had a Crakehall look about them, and Lord Walder's third wife had been of that House. Wide hips to bear children, big breasts to nurse them, strong arms to carry them. The Crakehalls have always been a big-boned family, and strong."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"My lord is kind,\" the Lady Roslin said to Edmure.\n\n\"My lady is beautiful.\" Edmure took her hand and drew her to her feet. \"But why are you crying?\"\n\n\"For joy,\" Roslin said. \"I weep for joy, my lord.\"\n\n\"Enough,\" Lord Walder broke in. \"You may weep and whisper after you're wed, heh. Benfrey, see your sister back to her chambers, she has a wedding to prepare for. And a bedding, heh, the sweetest part. For all, for all.\" His mouth moved in and out. \"We'll have music, such sweet music, and wine, heh, the red will run, and we'll put some wrongs aright. But now you're weary, and wet as well, dripping on my floor. There's fires waiting for you, and hot mulled wine, and baths if you want'em. Lothar, show our guests to their quarters.\"\n\n\"I need to see my men across the river, my lord,\" Robb said.\n\n\"They shan't get lost,\" Lord Walder complained. \"They're crossed before, haven't they? When you came down from the north. You wanted crossing and I gave it to you, and you never said mayhaps, heh. But suit yourself. Lead each man across by the hand if you like, it's naught tome.\"\n\n\"My lord!\" Catelyn had almost forgotten. \"Some food would be most welcome. We have ridden many leagues in the rain.\"\n\nWalder Frey's mouth moved in and out. \"Food, heh. A loaf of bread, a bite of cheese, mayhaps a sausage.\"\n\n\"Some wine to wash it down,\" Robb said. \"And salt.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Bread and salt. Heh. Of course, of course.\" The old man clapped his hands together, and servants came into the hall, bearing flagons of wine and trays of bread, cheese, and butter. Lord Walder took a cup of red himself, and raised it high with a spotted hand. \"My guests,\" he said. \"My honored guests. Be welcome beneath my roof, and at my table.\"\n\n\"We thank you for your hospitality, my lord,\" Robb replied. Edmure echoed him, along with the Greatjon, Ser Marq Piper, and the others. They drank his wine and ate his bread and butter. Catelyn tasted the wine and nibbled at some bread, and felt much the better for it. Now we should be safe, she thought.\n\nKnowing how petty the old man could be, she had expected their rooms to be bleak and cheerless. But the Freys had made more than ample provision for them, it seemed. The bridal chamber was large and richly appointed, dominated by a great featherbed with corner posts carved in the likeness of castle towers. Its draperies were Tully red and blue, a nice courtesy. Sweet-smelling carpets covered a plank floor, and a tall shuttered window opened to the south. Catelyn's own room was smaller, but handsomely furnished and comfortable, with afire burning in the hearth. Lame Lothar assured them that Robb would have an entire suite, as befit a king. \"If there is anything you require, you need only tell one of the guards.\" He bowed and withdrew, limping heavily as he made his way down the curving steps.\n\n\"We should post our own guards,\" Catelyn told her brother. She would rest easier with Stark and Tully men outside her door. The audience with Lord Walder had not been as painful as she feared, yet all the same she would be glad to be done with this. A few more days, and Robb will be off to battle, and me to a comfortable captivity at Seagard. Lord Jason would show her every courtesy, she had no doubt, but the prospect still depressed her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She could hear the sounds of horses below as the long column of mounted men wound their way across the bridge from castle to castle. The stones rumbled to the passage of heavy-laden wayns. Catelyn went to the window and gazed out, to watch Robb's host emerge from the eastern twin. \"The rain seems to be lessening.\"\n\n\"Now that we're inside.\" Edmure stood before the fire, letting the warmth wash over him. \"What did you make of Roslin?\"\n\nToo small and delicate. Childbirth will go hard on her. But her brother seemed well pleased with the girl, so all she said was, \"Sweet.\"\n\n\"I believe she liked me. Why was she crying?\"\n\n\"She's a maid on the eve of her wedding. A few tears are to be expected.\" Lysa had wept lakes the morning of their own wedding, though she had managed to be dry-eyed and radiant when Jon Arryn swept his cream-and-blue cloak about her shoulders.\n\n\"She's prettier than I dared hope.\" Edmure raised a hand before she could speak. \"I know there are more important things, spare me the sermon, septa. Even so... did you see some of those other maids Frey trotted out? The one with the twitch? Was that the shaking sickness? And those twins had more craters and eruptions on their faces than Petyr Pimple. When I saw that lot, I knew Roslin would be bald and one-eyed, with Jinglebell's wits and Black Walder's temper. But she seems gentle as well as fair.\" He looked perplexed. \"Why would the old weasel refuse to let me choose unless he meant to foist off someone hideous?\"\n\n\"Your fondness fora pretty face is well known,\" Catelyn reminded him. \"Perhaps Lord Walder actually wants you to be happy with your bride.\" Or more like, he did not want you balking over a boil and upsetting all his plans. \"Or it maybe that Roslin is the old man's favorite. The Lord of Riverrun is a much better match than most of his daughters can hope for.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"True.\" Her brother still seemed uncertain, however. \"Is it possible the girl is barren?\"\n\n\"Lord Walder wants his grandson to inherit Riverrun. How would it serve him to give you a barren wife?\"\n\n\"It rids him of a daughter no one else would take.\"\n\n\"Small good that will do him. Walder Frey is a peevish man, not a stupid one.\"\n\n\"Still... it is possible?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Catelyn conceded, reluctantly. \"There are illnesses a girl can have in childhood that leave her unable to conceive. There's no reason to believe that Lady Roslin was so afflicted, though.\" She looked round the room. \"The Freys have received us more kindly than I had anticipated, if truth be told.\"\n\nEdmure laughed. \"A few barbed words and some unseemly gloating. From him that's courtesy. I expected the old weasel to piss in our wine and make us praise the vintage.\"\n\nThe jest left Catelyn strangely disquieted. \" If you will excuse me, I should change from these wet clothes.\n\n\"As you wish.\" Edmure yawned. \"I may nap an hour.\"\n\nShe retreated to her own room. The chest of clothes she'd brought from Riverrun had been carried up and laid at the foot of the bed. After she'd undressed and hung her wet clothing by the fire, she donned a warm wool dress of Tully red and blue, washed and brushed her hair and let it dry, and went in search of Freys.\n\nLord Walder's black oak throne was empty when she entered the hall, but some of his sons were drinking by the fire. Lame Lothar rose clumsily when he saw her. \"Lady Catelyn, I thought you would be resting. How may I be of service?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Are these your brothers?\" she asked.\n\n\"Brothers, half-brothers, good brothers, and nephews. Raymund and I shared a mother. Lord Lucias Vypren is my half-sister Lythene's husband, and Ser Damon is their son. My half-brother Ser Hosteen I believe you know. And this is Ser Leslyn Haigh and his sons, Ser Harys and Ser Donnel.\"\n\n\"Well met, sers. Is Ser Perwyn about? He helped escort me to Storm's End and back, when Robb sent me to speak with Lord Renly. I was looking forward to seeing him again.\"\n\n\"Perwyn is away,\" Lame Lothar said. \"I shall give him your regards. I know he will regret having missed you.\"\n\n\"Surely he will return in time for Lady Roslin's wedding?\"\n\n\"He had hoped to,\" said Lame Lothar, \"but with this rain... you saw how the rivers ran, my lady.\"\n\n\"I did indeed,\" said Catelyn. \"I wonder if you would be so good as to direct me to your maester?\"\n\n\"Are you unwell, my lady?\" asked Ser Hosteen, a powerful man with a square strong jaw.\n\n\"A woman's complaint. Nothing to concern you, ser.\"\n\nLothar, ever gracious, escorted her from the hall, up some steps, and across a covered bridge to another stair. \"You should find Maester Brenett in the turret on the top, my lady.\"\n\nCatelyn half expected that the maester would be yet another son of Walder Frey's, but Brenett did not have the look. He was a great fat man, bald and double-chinned and none too clean, to judge from the raven droppings that stained the sleeves of his robes, yet he seemed amiable enough. When she told him of Edmure's concerns about Lady Roslin's fertility, he chuckled. \"Your lord brother need have no fear, Lady Catelyn. She's small, I'll grant you, and narrow in the hips, but her mother was the same, and Lady Bethany gave Lord Walder a child every year.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"How many lived past infancy?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"she asked bluntly.\n\n\"Five.\" He ticked them off on fingers plump as sausages. \"Ser Perwyn. Ser Benfrey. Maester Willamen, who took his vows last year and now serves Lord Hunter in the Vale. Olyvar, who squired for your son. And Lady Roslin, the youngest. Four boys to one girl. Lord Edmure will have more sons than he knows what to do with.\"\n\n\"I am sure that will please him.\" So the girl was like to be fertile as well as fair of face. That should put Edmure's mind at ease. Lord Walder had left her brother no cause for complaint, so far as she could see.\n\nCatelyn did not return to her own room after leaving the maester; instead she went to Robb. She found Robin Flint and Ser Wendel Manderly with him, along with the Greatjon and his son, who was still called the Smalljon though he threatened to overtop his father. They were all damp. Another man, still wetter, stood before the fire in a pale pink cloak trimmed with white fur. \"Lord Bolton,\" she said.\n\n\"Lady Catelyn,\" he replied, his voice faint, \"it is a pleasure to look on you again, even in such trying times.\"\n\n\"You are kind to say so.\" Catelyn could feel gloom in the room. Even the Greatjon seemed somber and subdued. She looked at their grim faces and said, \"What's happened?\"\n\n\"Lannisters on the Trident,\" said Ser Wendel unhappily. \"My brother is taken again.\"\n\n\"And Lord Bolton has brought us further word of Winterfell,\" Robb added. \"Ser Rodrik was not the only good man to die. Cley Cerwyn and Leobald Tallhart were slain as well.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Cley Cerwyn was only a boy,\" she said, saddened. \"Is this true, then? All dead, and Winterfell gone?\"\n\nBolton's pale eyes met her own. \"The ironmen burned both castle and winter town. Some of your people were taken back to the Dreadfort by my son, Ramsay.\"\n\n\"Your bastard was accused of grievous crimes,\" Catelyn reminded him sharply. \"Of murder, rape, and worse.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Roose Bolton said. \"His blood is tainted, that cannot be denied. Yet he is a good fighter, as cunning as he is fearless. When the ironmen cut down Ser Rodrik, and Leobald Tallhart soon after, it fell to Ramsay to lead the battle, and he did. He swears that he shall not sheathe his sword so long as a single Greyjoy remains in the north. Perhaps such service might atone in some small measure for whatever crimes his bastard blood has led him to commit.\" He shrugged. \"Or not. When the war is done, His Grace must weigh and judge. By then I hope to have a trueborn son by Lady Walda.\"\n\nThis is a cold man, Catelyn realized, not for the first time.\n\n\"Did Ramsay mention Theon Greyjoy?\" Robb demanded. \"Was he slain as well, or did he flee?\"\n\nRoose Bolton removed a ragged strip of leather from the pouch at his belt. \"My son sent this with his letter.\"\n\nSer Wendel turned his fat face away. Robin Flint and Smalljon Umber exchanged a look, and the Greatjon snorted like a bull. \"Is that... skin?\" said Robb.\n\n\"The skin from the little finger of Theon Greyjoy's left hand. My son is cruel, I confess it. And yet... what is a little skin, against the lives of two young princes? You were their mother, my lady. May I offer you this... small token of revenge?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Part of Catelyn wanted to clutch the grisly trophy to her heart, but she made herself resist. \"Put it away. Please.\"\n\n\"Flaying Theon will not bring my brothers back,\" Robb said. \"I want his head, not his skin.\"\n\n\"He is Balon Greyjoy's only living son,\" Lord Bolton said softly, as if they had forgotten, \"and now rightful King of the Iron Islands. A captive king has great value as a hostage.\"\n\n\"Hostage?\" The word raised Catelyn's hackles. Hostages were oft exchanged. \"Lord Bolton, I hope you are not suggesting that we free the man who killed my sons.\"\n\n\"Whoever wins the Seastone Chair will want Theon Greyjoy dead,\" Bolton pointed out. \"Even in chains, he has a better claim than any of his uncles. Hold him, I say, and demand concessions from the ironborn as the price of his execution.\"\n\nRobb considered that reluctantly, but in the end he nodded. \"Yes. Very well. Keep him alive, then. For the present. Hold him secure at the Dreadfort till we've retaken the north.\"\n\nCatelyn turned back to Roose Bolton. \"Ser Wendel said something of Lannisters on the Trident?\"\n\n\"He did, my lady. I blame myself. I delayed too long before leaving Harrenhal. Aenys Frey departed several days before me and crossed the Trident at the ruby ford, though not without difficulty. But by the time we came up the river was a torrent. I had no choice but to ferry my men across in small boats, of which we had too few. Two-thirds of my strength was on the north side when the Lannisters attacked those still waiting to cross. Norrey, Locke, and Burley men chiefly, with Ser Wylis Manderly and his White Harbor knights as rearguard. I was on the wrong side of the Trident, powerless to help them. Ser Wylis rallied our men as best he could, but Gregor Clegane attacked with heavy horse and drove them into the river. As many drowned as were cut down. More fled, and the rest were taken captive.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Gregor Clegane was always ill news, Catelyn reflected. Would Robb need to march south again to deal with him? Or was the Mountain coming here? \"Is Clegane across the river, then?\"\n\n\"No.\" Bolton's voice was soft, but certain. \"I left six hundred men at the ford. Spearmen from the rills, the mountains, and the White Knife, a hundred Hornwood longbows, some freeriders and hedge knights, and a strong force of Stout and Cerwyn men to stiffen them. Ronnel Stout and Ser Kyle Condon have the command. Ser Kyle was the late Lord Cerwyn's right hand, as I'm sure you know; my lady. Lions swim no better than wolves. So long as the river runs high, Ser Gregor will not cross.\"\n\n\"The last thing we need is the Mountain at our backs when we startup the causeway,\" said Robb. \"You did well, my lord.\"\n\n\"Your Grace is too kind. I suffered grievous losses on the Green Fork, and Glover and Tallhart worse at Duskendale.\"\n\n\"Duskendale.\" Robb made the word a curse. \"Robett Glover will answer for that when I see him, I promise you.\"\n\n\"A folly,\" Lord Bolton agreed, \"but Glover was heedless after he learned that Deepwood Motte had fallen. Grief and fear will do that to a man.\"\n\nDuskendale was done and cold; it was the battles still to come that worried Catelyn. \"How many men have you brought my son?\" she asked Roose Bolton pointedly.\n\nHis queer colorless eyes studied her face a moment before he answered. \"Some five hundred horse and three thousand foot, my lady. Dreadfort men, in chief, and some from Karhold. With the loyalty of the Karstarks so doubtful now, I thought it best to keep them close. I regret there are not more.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It should be enough,\" said Robb. \"You will have command of my rearguard, Lord Bolton. I mean to start for the Neck as soon as my uncle has been wedded and bedded. We're going home.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"ARYA\n\nThe outriders came on them an hour from the Green Fork, as the wayn was slogging down a muddy road.\n\n\"Keep your head down and your mouth shut,\" the Hound warned her as the three spurred toward them; a knight and two squires, lightly armored and mounted on fast palfreys. Clegane cracked his whip at the team, a pair of old drays that had known better days. The wayn was creaking and swaying, its two huge wooden wheels squeezing mud up out of the deep ruts in the road with every turn. Stranger followed, tied to the wagon.\n\nThe big bad-tempered courser wore neither armor, barding, nor harness, and the Hound himself was garbed in splotchy green roughspun and a soot-grey mantle with a hood that swallowed his head. So long as he kept his eyes down you could not see his face, only the whites of his eyes peering out. He looked like some down-at-heels farmer. A big farmer, though. And under the roughspun was boiled leather and oiled mail, Arya knew. She looked like a farmer's son, or maybe a swineherd. And behind them were four squat casks of salt pork and one of pickled pigs\" feet.\n\nThe riders split and circled them fora look before they came up close. Clegane drew the wayn to a halt and waited patiently on their pleasure. The knight bore spear and sword while his squires carried longbows. The badges on their jerkins were smaller versions of the sigil sewn on their master's surcoat; a black pitchfork on a golden bar sinister, upon a russet field. Arya had thought of revealing herself to the first outriders they encountered, but she had always pictured grey-cloaked men with the direwolf on their breasts. She might have risked it even if they'd worn the Umber giant or the Glover fist, but she did not know this pitchfork knight or whom he served. The closest thing to a pitchfork she had ever seen at Winterfell was the trident in the hand of Lord Manderly's merman."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You have business at the Twins?\" the knight asked.\n\n\"Salt pork for the wedding feast, if it please you, ser.\" The Hound mumbled his reply, his eyes down, his face hidden.\n\n\"Salt pork never pleases me.\" The pitchfork knight gave Clegane only the most cursory glance, and paid no attention at all to Arya, but he looked long and hard at Stranger. The stallion was no plow horse, that was plain at a glance. One of the squires almost wound up in the mud when the big black courser bit at his own mount. \"How did you come by this beast?\" the pitchfork knight demanded.\n\n\"M'lady told me to bring him, ser,\" Clegane said humbly. \"He's a wedding gift for young Lord Tully.\"\n\n\"What lady? Who is it you serve?\"\n\n\"Old Lady Whent, ser.\"\n\n\"Does she think she can buy Harrenhal back with a horse?\" the knight asked. \"Gods, is there any fool like an old fool?\" Yet he waved them down the road. \"Goon with you, then.\"\n\n\"Aye, m'lord.\" The Hound snapped his whip again, and the old drays resumed their weary trek. The wheels had settled deep into the mud during the halt, and it took several moments for the team to pull them free again. By then the outriders were riding off. Clegane gave them one last look and snorted. \"Ser Donnel Haigh,\" he said. \"I've taken more horses off him than I can count. Armor as well. Once I near killed him in a mêlée.\"\n\n\"How come he didn't know you, then?\" Arya asked.\n\n\"Because knights are fools, and it would have been beneath him to look twice at some poxy peasant.\" He gave the horses a lick with the whip. \"Keep your eyes down and your tone respectful and say ser a lot, and most knights will never see you. They pay more mind to horses than to smallfolk. He might have known Stranger if he'd ever seen me ride him.\""},{"from":"human","value":"He would have known your face, though."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Arya had no doubt of that. Sandor Clegane's burns would not be easy to forget, once you saw them. He couldn't hide the scars behind a helm, either; not so long as the helm was made in the shape of a snarling dog.\n\nThat was why they'd needed the wayn and the pickled pigs\" feet. \"I'm not going to be dragged before your brother in chains,\" the Hound had told her, \"and I'd just as soon not have to cut through his men to get to him. So we play a little game.\"\n\nA farmer chance-met on the kingsroad had provided them with wayn, horses, garb, and casks, though not willingly. The Hound had taken them at swordpoint. When the farmer cursed him fora robber, he said, \"No, a forager. Be grateful you get to keep your smallclothes. Now take those boots off. Or I'll take your legs off. Your choice.\" The farmer was as big as Clegane, but all the same he chose to give up his boots and keep his legs.\n\nEvenfall found them still trudging toward the Green Fork and Lord Frey's twin castles. I am almost there, Arya thought. She knew she ought to be excited, but her belly was all knotted uptight. Maybe that was just the fever she'd been fighting, but maybe not. Last night she'd had a bad dream, a terrible dream. She couldn't remember what she'd dreamed of now, but the feeling had lingered all day. If anything, it had only gotten stronger. Fear cuts deeper than swords. She had to be strong now, the way her father told her. There was nothing between her and her mother but a castle gate, a river, and an army... but it was Robb's army, so there was no real danger there. Was there?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Roose Bolton was one of them, though. The Leech Lord, as the outlaws called him. That made her uneasy. She had fled Harrenhal to getaway from Bolton as much as from the Bloody Mummers, and she'd had to cut the throat of one of his guards to escape. Did he know she'd done that? Or did he blame Gendry or Hot Pie? Would he have told her mother? What would he do if he saw her? He probably won't even know me. She looked more like a drowned rat than a lord's cupbearer these days. A drowned boy rat. The Hound had hacked handfuls of her hair off only two days past. He was an even worse barber than Yoren, and he'd left her half bald on one side. Robb won't know me either, I bet. Or even Mother. She had been a little girl the last time she saw them, the day Lord Eddard Stark left Winterfell.\n\nThey heard the music before they saw the castle; the distant rattle of drums, the brazen blare of horns, the thin skirling of pipes faint beneath the growl of the river and the sound of the rain beating on their heads. \"We've missed the wedding,\" the Hound said, \"but it sounds as though the feast is still going. I'll be rid of you soon.\"\n\nNo, I'll be rid of you, Arya thought.\n\nThe road had been running mostly northwest, but now it turned due west between an apple orchard and afield of drowned corn beaten down by the rain. They passed the last of the apple trees and crested arise, and the castles, river, and camps all appeared at once. There were hundreds of horses and thousands of men, most of them milling about the three huge feast tents that stood side by side facing the castle gates, like three great canvas longhalls. Robb had made his camp well back from the walls, on higher, drier ground, but the Green Fork had overflown its bank and even claimed a few carelessly placed tents."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The music from the castles was louder here. The sound of the drums and horns rolled across the camp. The musicians in the nearer castle were playing a different song than the ones in the castle on the far bank, though, so it sounded more like a battle than a song. \"They're not very good,\" Arya observed.\n\nThe Hound made a sound that might have been a laugh. \"There's old deaf women in Lannisport complaining of the din, I'll warrant. I'd heard Walder Frey's eyes were failing, but no one mentioned his bloody ears.\"\n\nArya found herself wishing it were day. If the sun was out and the wind was blowing, she would have been able to seethe banners better. She would have looked for the direwolf of Stark, or maybe the Cerwyn battleaxe or the Glover fist. But in the gloom of night all the colors looked grey. The rain had dwindled down to a fine drizzle, almost a mist, but an earlier downpour had left the banners wet as dishrags, sodden and unreadable.\n\nA hedge of wagons and carts had been drawn up along the perimeter to make a crude wooden wall against any attack. That was where the guards stopped them. The lantern their sergeant carried shed enough light for Arya to see that his cloak was a pale pink, spotted with red teardrops. The men under him had the Leech Lord's badge sewn over their hearts, the flayed man of the Dreadfort. Sandor Clegane gave them the same tale he'd used on the outriders, but the Bolton sergeant was a harder sort of nut than Ser Donnel Haigh had been. \"Salt pork's no fit meat fora lord's wedding feast,\" he said scornfully.\n\n\"Got pickled pigs' feet too, ser.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Not for the feast, you don't. The feast's half done. And I'm a northman, not some milksuck southron knight.\"\n\n\"I was told to seethe steward, or the cook...\"\n\n\"Castle's closed. The lordlings are not to be disturbed.\" The sergeant considered a moment. \"You can unload by the feast tents, there.\" He pointed with a mailed hand. \"Ale makes a man hungry, and old Frey won't miss a few pigs'feet. He don't have the teeth for such anyhow. Ask for Sedgekins, he'll know what's to be done with you.\" He barked a command, and his men rolled one of the wagons aside for them to enter.\n\nThe Hound's whip spurred the team toward the tents. No one seemed to pay them any mind. They splashed past rows of brightly colored pavilions, their walls of wet silk lit up like magic lanterns by lamps and braziers inside; pink and gold and green they glimmered, striped and fretty and chequy, emblazoned with birds and beasts, chevrons and stars, wheels and weapons. Arya spotted a yellow tent with six acrons on its panels, three over two over one. Lord Smallwood, she knew, remembering Acorn Hall so faraway, and the lady who'd said she was pretty.\n\nBut for every shimmering silk pavilion there were two dozen of felt or canvas, opaque and dark. There were barracks tents too, big enough to shelter two score footsoldiers, though even those were dwarfed by the three great feast tents. The drinking had been going on for hours, it seemed. Arya heard shouted toasts and the clash of cups, mixed in with all the usual camp sounds, horses whinnying and dogs barking, wagons rumbling through the dark, laughter and curses, the clank and clatter of steel and wood. The music grew still louder as they approached the castle, but under that was a deeper, darker sound: the river, the swollen Green Fork, growling like a lion in its den."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Arya twisted and turned, trying to look everywhere at once, hoping fora glimpse of a direwolf badge, fora tent done up in grey and white, fora face she knew from Winterfell. All she saw were strangers. She stared at a man relieving himself in the reeds, but he wasn't Alebelly. She saw a half-dressed girl burst from a tent laughing, but the tent was pale blue, not grey like she'd thought at first, and the man who went running after her wore a treecat on his doublet, not a wolf. Beneath a tree, four archers were slipping waxed strings over the notches of their longbows, but they were not her father's archers. A maester crossed their path, but he was too young and thin to be Maester Luwin. Arya gazed up at the Twins, their high tower windows glowing softly wherever alight was burning. Through the haze of rain, the castles looked spooky and mysterious, like something from one of Old Nan's tales, but they weren't Winterfell.\n\nThe press was thickest at the feast tents. The wide flaps were tied back, and men were pushing in and outwith drinking horns and tankards in their hands, some with camp followers. Arya glanced inside as the Hound drove past the first of the three, and saw hundreds of men crowding the benches and jostling around the casks of mead and ale and wine. There was hardly room to move inside, but none of them seemed to mind. At least they were warm and dry. Cold wet Arya envied them. Some were even singing. The fine misty rain was steaming all around the door from the heat escaping from inside. \"Here's to Lord Edmure and Lady Roslin,\" she heard a voice shout. They all drank, and someone yelled, \"Here's to the Young Wolf and Queen Jeyne.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Who is Queen Jeyne? Arya wondered briefly. The only queen she knew was Cersei.\n\nFirepits had been dug outside the feast tents, sheltered beneath rude canopies of woven wood and hides that kept the rain out, so long as it fell straight down. The wind was blowing off the river, though, so the drizzle came in anyway, enough to make the fires hiss and swirl. Serving men were turning joints of meat on spits above the flames. The smells made Arya's mouth water. \"Shouldn't we stop?\" she asked Sandor Clegane. \"There's northmen in the tents.\" She knew them by their beards, by their faces, by their cloaks of bearskin and sealskin, by their half-heard toasts and the songs they sang; Karstarks and Umbers and men of the mountain clans. \"I bet there are Winterfell men too.\" Her father's men, the Young Wolf's men, the direwolves of Stark.\n\n\"Your brother will be in the castle,\" he said. \"Your mother too. You want them or not?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said. \"What about Sedgekins?\" The sergeant had told them to ask for Sedgekins.\n\n\"Sedgekins can bugger himself with a hot poker.\" Clegane shook out his whip, and sent it hissing through the soft rain to bite at a horse's flank. \"It's your bloody brother I want.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"CATELYN\n\nThe drums were pounding, pounding, pounding, and her head with them. Pipes wailed and flutes trilled from the musicians' gallery at the foot of the hall; fiddles screeched, horns blew, the skins skirled a lively tune, but the drumming drove them all. The sounds echoed off the rafters, whilst the guests ate, drank, and shouted atone another below. Walder Frey must be deaf as a stone to call this music. Catelyn sipped a cup of wine and watched Jinglebell prance to the sounds of'Alysanne.\" At least she thought it was meant to be'Alysanne.\" With these players, it might as easily have been'The Bear and the Maiden Fair.\"\n\nOutside the rain still fell, but within the Twins the air was thick and hot. Afire roared in the hearth and rows of torches burned smokily from iron sconces on the walls. Yet most of the heat came off the bodies of the wedding guests, jammed in so thick along the benches that every man who tried to lift his cup poked his neighbor in the ribs.\n\nEven on the dais they were closer than Catelyn would have liked. She had been placed between Ser Ryman Frey and Roose Bolton, and had gotten a good noseful of both. Ser Ryman drank as if Westeros was about to run short of wine, and sweated it all out under his arms. He had bathed in lemonwater, she judged, but no lemon could mask so much sour sweat. Roose Bolton had a sweeter smell to him, yet no more pleasant. He sipped hippocras in preference to wine or mead, and ate but little.\n\nCatelyn could not fault him for his lack of appetite. The wedding feast began with a thin leek soup, followed by a salad of green beans, onions, and beets, river pike poached in almond milk, mounds of mashed turnips that were cold before they reached the table, jellied calves'brains, and a leche of stringy beef. It was poor fare to set before a king, and the calves\" brains turned Catelyn's stomach. Yet Robb ate it uncomplaining, and her brother was too caught up with his bride to pay much attention."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"You would never guess Edmure complained of Roslin all the way from Riverrun to the Twins. Husband and wife ate from a single plate, drank from a single cup, and exchanged chaste kisses between sips. Most of the dishes Edmure waved away. She could not blame him for that. She remembered little of the food served at her own wedding feast. Did I even taste it? Or spend the whole time gazing at Ned's face, wondering who he was?\n\nPoor Roslin's smile had a fixed quality to it, as if someone had sewn it onto her face. Well, she is a maid wedded, but the bedding's yet to come. No doubt she's as terrified as I was. Robb was seated between Alyx Frey and Fair Walda, two of the more nubile Frey maidens. \"At the wedding feast I hope you will not refuse to dance with my daughters,\" Walder Frey had said. \"It would please an old man's heart.\" His heart should be well pleased, then; Robb had done his duty like a king. He had danced with each of the girls, with Edmure's bride and the eighth Lady Frey, with the widow Ami and Roose Bolton's wife Fat Walda, with the pimply twins Serra and Sarra, even with Shirei, Lord Walder's youngest, who must have been all of six. Catelyn wondered whether the Lord of the Crossing would be satisfied, or if he would find cause for complaint in all the other daughters and granddaughters who had not had a turn with the king. \"Your sisters dance very well,\" she said to Ser Ryman Frey, trying to be pleasant.\n\n\"They're aunts and cousins.\" Ser Ryman drank a swallow of wine, the sweat trickling down his cheek into his beard."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A sour man, and in his cups, Catelyn thought. The Late Lord Frey might be niggardly when it came to feeding his guests, but he did not stint on the drink. The ale, wine, and mead were flowing as fast as the river outside. The Greatjon was already roaring drunk. Lord Walder's son Merrett was matching him cup for cup, but Ser Whalen Frey had passed out trying to keep up with the two of them. Catelyn would sooner Lord Umber had seen fit to stay sober, but telling the Greatjon not to drink was like telling him not to breathe fora few hours.\n\nSmalljon Umber and Robin Flint sat near Robb, to the other side of Fair Walda and Alyx, respectively. Neither of them was drinking; along with Patrek Mallister and Dacey Mormont, they were her son's guards this evening. A wedding feast was not a battle, but there were always dangers when men were in their cups, and a king should never be unguarded. Catelyn was glad of that, and even more glad of the swordbelts hanging on pegs along the walls. No man needs a longsword to deal with jellied calves\" brains.\n\n\"Everyone thought my lord would choose Fair Walda,\" Lady Walda Bolton told Ser Wendel, shouting to be heard above the music. Fat Walda was around pink butterball of a girl with watery blue eyes, limp yellow hair, and a huge bosom, yet her voice was a fluttering squeak. It was hard to picture her in the Dreadfort in her pink lace and cape of vair. \"My lord grandfather offered Roose his bride's weight in silver as a dowry, though, so my lord of Bolton picked me.\" The girl's chins jiggled when she laughed. \"I weigh six stone more than Fair Walda, but that was the first time I was glad of it. I'm Lady Bolton now and my cousin's still a maid, and she'll be nineteen soon, poor thing.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Lord of the Dreadfort paid the chatter no mind, Catelyn saw. Sometimes he tasted a bite of this, a spoon of that, tearing bread from the loaf with short strong fingers, but the meal could not distract him. Bolton had made a toast to Lord Walder's grandsons when the wedding feast began, pointedly mentioning that Walder and Walder were in the care of his bastard son. From the way the old man had squinted at him, his mouth sucking at the air, Catelyn knew he had heard the unspoken threat.\n\nWas there ever a wedding less joyful? she wondered, until she remembered her poor Sansa and her marriage to the Imp. Mother take mercy on her. She has a gentle soul. The heat and smoke and noise were making her sick. The musicians in the gallery might be numerous and loud, but they were not especially gifted. Catelyn took another swallow of wine and allowed a page to refill her cup. A few more hours, and the worst will be over. By this hour tomorrow Robb would be off to another battle, this time with the ironmen at Moat Cailin. Strange, how that prospect seemed almost a relief. He will win his battle. He wins all his battles, and the ironborn are without a king. Besides, Ned taught him well. The drums were pounding. Jinglebell hopped past her once again, but the music was so loud she could scarcely hear his bells.\n\nAbove the din came a sudden snarling as two dogs fell upon each other over a scrap of meat. They rolled across the floor, snapping and biting, as a howl of mirth went up. Someone doused them with a flagon of ale and they broke apart. One limped toward the dais. Lord Walder's toothless mouth opened in a bark of laughter as the dripping wet dog shook ale and hair allover three of his grandsons."},{"from":"human","value":"The sight of the dogs made Catelyn wish once more for Grey Wind, but Robb's direwolf was nowhere to be seen."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Lord Walder had refused to allow him in the hall. \"Your wild beast has a taste for human flesh, I hear, heh,\" the old man had said. \"Rips out throats, yes. I'll have no such creature at my Roslin's feast, amongst women and little ones, all my sweet innocents.\"\n\n\"Grey Wind is no danger to them, my lord,\" Robb protested. \"Not so long as I am there.\"\n\n\"You were thereat my gates, were you not? When the wolf attacked the grandsons I sent to greet you? I heard all about that, don't think I didn't, heh.\"\n\n\"No harm was done-\"\n\n\"No harm, the king says? No harm? Petyr fell from his horse, fell. I lost a wife the same way, falling.\" His mouth worked in and out. \"Or was she just some strumpet? Bastard Walder's mother, yes, now I recall. She fell off her horse and cracked her head. What would Your Grace do if Petyr had broken his neck, heh? Give me another apology in place of a grandson? No, no, no. Might be you're king, I won't say you're not, the King in the North, heh, but under my roof, my rule. Have your wolf or have your wedding, sire. You'll not have both.\"\n\nCatelyn could tell that her son was furious, but he yielded with as much courtesy as he could summon. If it pleases Lord Walder to serve me stewed crow smothered in maggots, he'd told her, I'll eat it and ask fora second bowl. And so he had.\n\nThe Greatjon had drunk another of Lord Walder's brood under the table, Petyr Pimple this time. The lad has a third his capacity, what did he expect? Lord Umber wiped his mouth, stood, and began to sing. \"A bear there was, a bear, a BEAR! All black and brown and covered with hair!\" His voice was not at all bad, though somewhat thick from drink. Unfortunately the fiddlers and drummers and flutists up above were playing'Flowers of Spring,\" which suited the words of'The Bear and the Maiden Fair\" as well as snails might suit a bowl of porridge. Even poor Jinglebell covered his ears at the cacophony."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Roose Bolton murmured some words too soft to hear and went off in search of a privy. The cramped hall was in a constant uproar of guests and servants coming and going. A second feast, for knights and lords of somewhat lesser rank, was roaring along in the other castle, she knew. Lord Walder had exiled his baseborn children and their offspring to that side of the river, so that Robb's northmen had taken to referring to it as'the bastard feast.\" Some guests were no doubt stealing off to see if the bastards were having a better time than they were. Some might even be venturing as far as the camps. The Freys had provided wagons of wine, ale, and mead, so the common soldiers could drink to the wedding of Riverrun and the Twins.\n\nRobb sat down in Bolton's vacant place. \"A few more hours and this farce is done, Mother,\" he said in a low voice, as the Greatjon sang of the maid with honey in her hair. \"Black Walder's been mild as a lamb for once. And Uncle Edmure seems well content in his bride.\" He leaned across her. \"Ser Ryman?\"\n\nSer Ryman Frey blinked and said, \"Sire. Yes?\"\n\n\"I'd hoped to ask Olyvar to squire for me when we march north,\" said Robb, \"but I do not see him here. Would he beat the other feast?\"\n\n\"Olyvar?\" Ser Ryman shook his head. \"No. Not Olyvar. Gone... gone from the castles. Duty.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Robb's tone suggested otherwise. When Ser Ryman offered nothing more, the king got to his feet again. \"Would you care fora dance, Mother?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Thank you, but no.\" A dance was the last thing she needed, the way her head was throbbing. \"No doubt one of Lord Walder's daughters would be pleased to partner you.\"\n\n\"Oh, no doubt.\" His smile was resigned.\n\nThe musicians were playing'Iron Lances\" by then, while the Greatjon sang'The Lusty Lad.\" Someone should acquaint them with each other, it might improve the harmony. Catelyn turned back to Ser Ryman. \"I had heard that one of your cousins was a singer.\"\n\n\"Alesander. Symond's son. Alyx is his sister.\" He raised a cup toward where she danced with Robin Flint.\n\n\"Will Alesander be playing for us tonight?\"\n\nSer Ryman squinted at her. \"Not him. He's away.\" He wiped sweat from his brow and lurched to his feet. \"Pardons, my lady. Pardons.\" Catelyn watched him stagger toward the door.\n\nEdmure was kissing Roslin and squeezing her hand. Elsewhere in the hall, Ser Marq Piper and Ser Danwell Frey played a drinking game, Lame Lothar said something amusing to Ser Hosteen, one of the younger Freys juggled three daggers fora group of giggly girls, and Jinglebell sat on the floor sucking wine off his fingers. The servers were bringing out huge silver platters piled high with cuts of juicy pink lamb, the most appetizing dish they'd seen all evening. And Robb was leading Dacey Mormont in a dance.\n\nWhen she wore a dress in place of a hauberk, Lady Maege's eldest daughter was quite pretty; tall and willowy, with ashy smile that made her long face light up. It was pleasant to see that she could be as graceful on the dance floor as in the training yard. Catelyn wondered if Lady Maege had reached the Neck as yet. She had taken her other daughters with her, but as one of Robb's battle companions Dacey had chosen to remain by his side. He has Ned's gift for inspiring loyalty. Olyvar Frey had been devoted to her son as well. Hadn't Robb said that Olyvar wanted to remain with him even after he'd married Jeyne?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Seated betwixt his black oak towers, the Lord of the Crossing clapped his spotted hands together. The noise they made was so faint that even those on the dais scarce heard it, but Ser Aenys and Ser Hosteen saw and began to pound their cups on the table. Lame Lothar joined them, then Marq Piper and Ser Danwell and Ser Raymund. Half the guests were soon pounding. Finally even the mob of musicians in the gallery took note. The piping, drumming, and fiddling trailed off into quiet.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Lord Walder called out to Robb, \"the septon has prayed his prayers, some words have been said, and Lord Edmure's wrapped my sweetling in a fish cloak, but they are not yet man and wife. A sword needs a sheath, heh, and a wedding needs a bedding. What does my sire say? Is it meet that we should bed them?\"\n\nA score or more of Walder Frey's sons and grandsons began to bang their cups again, shouting, \"To bed! To bed! To bed with them!\" Roslin had gone white. Catelyn wondered whether it was the prospect of losing her maidenhead that frightened the girl, or the bedding itself. With so many siblings, she was not like to be a stranger to the custom, but it was different when you were the one being bedded. On Catelyn's own wedding night, Jory Cassell had torn her gown in his haste to get her out of it, and drunken Desmond Grell kept apologizing for every bawdy joke, only to make another. When Lord Dustin had beheld her naked, he'd told Ned that her breasts were enough to make him wish he'd never been weaned. Poor man, she thought. He had ridden south with Ned, never to return. Catelyn wondered how many of the men here tonight would be dead before the year was done. Too many, I fear."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Robb raised a hand. \"If you think the time is meet, Lord Walder, by all means let us bed them.\"\n\nA roar of approval greeted his pronouncement. Up in the gallery the musicians took up their pipes and horns and fiddles again, and began to play'The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown.\" Jinglebell hopped from foot to foot, his own crown ringing. \"I hear Tully men have trout between their legs instead of cocks,\" Alyx Frey called out boldly. \"Does it take a worm to make them rise?\" To which Ser Marq Piper threw back, \"I hear that Frey women have two gates in place of one!\" and Alyx said, \"Aye, but both are closed and barred to little things like you!\" A gust of laughter followed, until Patrek Mallister climbed up onto a table to propose a toast to Edmure's one-eyed fish. \"And a mighty pike it is!\" he proclaimed. \"Nay, I'll wager it's a minnow,\" Fat Walda Bolton shouted out from Catelyn's side. Then the general cry of'Bed them! Bed them!\" went up again.\n\nThe guests swarmed the dais, the drunkest in the forefront as ever. The men and boys surrounded Roslin and lifted her into the air whilst the maids and mothers in the hall pulled Edmure to his feet and began tugging at his clothing. He was laughing and shouting bawdy jokes back at them, though the music was too loud for Catelyn to hear. She heard the Greatjon, though. \"Give this little bride tome,\" he bellowed as he shoved through the other men and threw Roslin over one shoulder. \"Look at this little thing! No meat on her at all!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Catelyn felt sorry for the girl. Most brides tried to return the banter, or at least pretended to enjoy it, but Roslin was stiff with terror, clutching the Greatjon as if she feared he might drop her. She's crying too, Catelyn realized as she watched Ser Marq Piper pull off one of the bride's shoes. I hope Edmure is gentle with the poor child. Jolly, bawdy music still poured down from the gallery; the queen was taking off her kirtle now, and the king his tunic.\n\nShe knew she should join the throng of women round her brother, but she would only ruin their fun. The last thing she felt just now was bawdy. Edmure would forgive her absence, she did not doubt; much jollier to be stripped and bedded by a score of lusty, laughing Freys than by a sour, stricken sister.\n\nAs man and maid were carried from the hall, a trail of clothing behind them, Catelyn saw that Robb had also remained. Walder Frey was prickly enough to see some insult to his daughter in that. He should join in Roslin's bedding, but is it my place to tell him so? She tensed, until she saw that others had stayed as well. Petyr Pimple and Ser Whalen Frey slept on, their heads on the table. Merrett Frey poured himself another cup of wine, while Jinglebell wandered about stealing bites off the plates of those who'd left. Ser Wendel Manderly was lustily attacking a leg of lamb. And of course Lord Walder was far too feeble to leave his seat without help. He will expect Robb to go, though. She could almost hear the old man asking why His Grace did not want to see his daughter naked. The drums were pounding again, pounding and pounding and pounding."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Co-write with the author and continue the story.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 51\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Freys made no sign of obeisance. \\\"You come late,\\\" Ser Ryman declared.\\n\\n\\\"The rains delayed us,\\\" said Robb. \\\"I sent a bird.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not seethe woman.\\\"\\n\\nBy the woman Ser Ryman meant Jeyne Westerling, all knew. Lady Catelyn smiled apologetically. \\\"Queen Jeyne was weary after so much travel, sers. No doubt she will be pleased to visit when times are more settled.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My grandfather will be displeased.\\\" Though Black Walder had sheathed his sword, his tone was no friendlier. \\\"I've told him much of the lady, and he wished to behold her with his own eyes.\\\"\\n\\nEdwyn cleared his throat. \\\"We have chambers prepared for you in the Water Tower, Your Grace,\\\" he told Robb with careful courtesy, \\\"as well as for Lord Tully and Lady Stark. Your lords bannermen are also welcome to shelter under our roof and partake of the wedding feast.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And my men?\\\" asked Robb.\\n\\n\\\"My lord grandfather regrets that he cannot feed nor house so large a host. We have been sore pressed to find fodder and provender for our own levies. Nonetheless, your men shall not be neglected. If they will cross and setup their camp beside our own, we will bring out enough casks of wine and ale for all to drink the health of Lord Edmure and his bride. We have thrown up three great feast tents on the far bank, to provide them with some shelter from the rains.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your lord father is most kind. My men will thank him. They have had along wet ride.\\\"\\n\\nEdmure Tully edged his horse forward. \\\"When shall I meet my betrothed?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"She waits for you within,\\\" promised Edwyn Frey.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You will forgive her if she seems shy, I know. She has been awaiting this day most anxiously, poor maid. But perhaps we might continue this out of the rain?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Truly.\\\" Ser Ryman mounted up again, pulling Petyr Pimple up behind him. \\\"If you would follow me, my father awaits.\\\" He turned the palfrey's head back towrd the Twins.\\n\\nEdmure fell in beside Catelyn. \\\"The Late Lord Frey might have seen fit to welcome us in person,\\\" he complained. \\\"I am his liege lord as well as his son-to-be, and Robb's his king.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"When you are one-and-ninety, Brother, see how eager you are to go riding in the rain.\\\" Yet she wondered if that was the whole truth of it. Lord Walder normally went about in a covered litter, which would have kept the worst of the rain off him. A deliberate slight? If so, it might be the first of many yet to come.\\n\\nThere was more trouble at the gatehouse. Grey Wind balked in the middle of the drawbridge, shook the rain off, and howled at the portcullis. Robb whistled impatiently. \\\"Grey Wind. What is it? Grey Wind, with me.\\\" But the direwolf only bared his teeth. He does not like this place, Catelyn thought. Robb had to squat and speak softly to the wolf before he would consent to pass beneath the portcullis. By then Lame Lothar and Walder Rivers had come up. \\\"It's the sound of the water he fears,\\\" Rivers said. \\\"Beasts know to avoid the river in flood.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A dry kennel and a leg of mutton will see him right again,\\\" said Lothar cheerfully. \\\"Shall I summon our master of hounds?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He's a direwolf, not a dog,\\\" said Robb, \\\"and dangerous to men he does not trust.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Raynald, stay with him. I won't take him into Lord Walder's hall like this.\\\"\\n\\nDeftly done, Catelyn decided. Robb keeps the Westerling out of Lord Walder's sight as well.\\n\\nGout and brittle bones had taken their toll of old Walder Frey. They found him propped up in his high seat with a cushion beneath him and an ermine robe across his lap. His chair was black oak, its back carved into the semblance of two stout towers joined by an arched bridge, so massive that its embrace turned the old man into a grotesque child. There was something of the vulture about Lord Walder, and rather more of the weasel. His bald head, spotted with age, thrust out from his scrawny shoulders on along pink neck. Loose skin dangled beneath his receding chin, his eyes were runny and clouded, and his toothless mouth moved constantly, sucking at the empty air as a babe sucks at his mother's breast.\\n\\nThe eighth Lady Frey stood beside Lord Walder's high seat. At his feet sat a somewhat younger version of himself, a stooped thin man of fifty whose costly garb of blue wool and grey satin was strangely accented by a crown and collar ornamented with tiny brass bells. The likeness between him and his lord was striking, save for their eyes; Lord Frey's small, dim, and suspicious, the other's large, amiable, and vacant. Catelyn recalled that one of Lord Walder's brood had fathered a halfwit long years ago. During past visits, the Lord of the Crossing had always taken care to hide this one away. Did he always wear a fool's crown, or is that meant as mockery of Robb? It was a question she dare not ask.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Frey sons, daughters, children, grandchildren, husbands, wives and servants crowded the rest of the hall. But it was the old man who spoke. \\\"You will forgive me if I do not kneel, I know. My legs no longer work as they did, though that which hangs between \\\"em serves well enough, heh.\\\" His mouth split in a toothless smile as he eyed Robb's crown. \\\"Some would say it's a poor king who crowns himself with bronze, Your Grace.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bronze andiron are stronger than gold and silver,\\\" Robb answered. \\\"The old Kings of Winter wore such a sword-crown.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Small good it did them when the dragons came. Heh.\\\" That heh seemed to please the lackwit, who bobbed his head from side to side, jingling crown and collar. \\\"Sire,\\\" Lord Walder said, \\\"forgive my Aegon the noise. He has less wits than a crannogman, and he's never meta king before. One of Stevron's boys. We call him Jinglebell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ser Stevron mentioned him, my lord.\\\" Robb smiled at the lackwit. \\\"Well met, Aegon. Your father was a brave man.\\\"\\n\\nJinglebell jingled his bells. A thin line of spit ran from one corner of his mouth when he smiled.\\n\\n\\\"Save your royal breath. You'd do as well talking to a chamberpot.\\\" Lord Walder shifted his gaze to the others. \\\"Well, Lady Catelyn, I see you have returned to us. And young Ser Edmure, the victor of the Stone Mill. Lord Tully now, I'll need to remember that. You're the fifth Lord Tully I've known. I outlived the other four, heh. Your bride's about here somewhere. I suppose you want a look at her.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I would, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then you'll have it. But clothed. She's a modest girl, and a maid. You won't see her naked till the bedding.\\\" Lord Walder cackled. \\\"Heh. Soon enough, soon enough.\\\" He craned his head about. \\\"Benfrey, go fetch your sister. Be quick about it, Lord Tully's come all the way from Riverrun.\\\" A young knight in a quartered surcoat bowed and took his leave, and the old man turned back to Robb. \\\"And where's your bride, Your Grace? The fair Queen Jeyne. A Westerling of the Crag, I'm told, heh.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I left her at Riverrun, my lord. She was too weary for more travel, as we told Ser Ryman.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That makes me grievous sad. I wanted to behold her with mine own weak eyes. We all did, heh. Isn't that so, my lady?\\\"\\n\\nPale wispy Lady Frey seemed startled that she would be called upon to speak. \\\"Y-yes, my lord. We all so wanted to pay homage to Queen Jeyne. She must be fair to look on.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She is most fair, my lady.\\\" There was an icy stillness in Robb's voice that reminded Catelyn of his father.\\n\\nThe old man either did not hear it or refused to pay it any heed. \\\"Fairer than my own get, heh? Elsewise how could her face and form have made the King's Grace forget his solemn promise.\\\"\\n\\nRobb suffered the rebuke with dignity. \\\"No words can set that right, I know, but I have come to make my apologies for the wrong I did your House, and to beg for your forgiveness, my lord.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Apologies, heh. Yes, you vowed to make one, I recall. I'm old, but I don't forget such things. Not like some kings, it seems. The young remember nothing when they see a pretty face and a nice firm pair of teats, isn't that so? I was the same. Some might say I still am, heh heh. They'd be wrong, though, wrong as you were. But now you're hereto make amends. It was my girls you spurned, though. Mayhaps it's them should hear you beg for pardon, Your Grace. My maiden girls. Here, have a look at them.\\\" When he waggled his fingers, a flurry of femininity left their places by the walls to lineup beneath the dais. Jinglebell started to rise as well, his bells ringing merrily, but Lady Frey grabbed the lackwit's sleeve and tugged him back down.\\n\\nLord Walder named the names. \\\"My daughter Arwyn,\\\" he said of a girl of fourteen. \\\"Shirei, my youngest trueborn daughter. Ami and Marianne are granddaughters. I married Ami to Ser Pate of Sevenstreams, but the Mountain killed the oaf so I got her back. That's a Cersei, but we call her Little Bee, her mother's a Beesbury. More granddaughters. One's a Walda, and the others... well, they have names, whatever they are...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm Merry, Lord Grandfather,\\\" one girl said.\\n\\n\\\"You're noisy, that's for certain. Next to Noisy is my daughter Tyta. Then another Walda. Alyx, Marissa... are you Marissa? I thought you were. She's not always bald. The maester shaved her hair off, but he swears it will soon grow back. The twins are Serra and Sarra.\\\" He squinted down atone of the younger girls. \\\"Heh, are you another Walda?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The girl could not have been more than four.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I'm Ser Aemon Rivers's Walda, lord great grandfather.\\\" She curtsied.\\n\\n\\\"How long have you been talking? Not that you're like to have anything sensible to say, your father never did. He's a bastard's son besides, heh. Go away, I wanted only Freys up here. The King in the North has no interest in base stock.\\\" Lord Walder glanced to Robb, as Jinglebell bobbed his head and chimed. \\\"There they are, all maidens. Well, and one widow, but there's some who like a woman broken in. You might have had anyone of them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It would have been an impossible choice, my lord,\\\" said Robb with careful courtesy. \\\"They're all too lovely.\\\"\\n\\nLord Walder snorted. \\\"And they say my eyes are bad. Some will do well enough, I suppose. Others... well, it makes no matter. They weren't good enough for the King in the North, heh. Now what is it you have to say?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My ladies.\\\" Robb looked desperately uncomfortable, but he had known this moment must come, and he faced it without flinching. \\\"All men should keep their word, kings most of all. I was pledged to marry one of you and I broke that vow. The fault is not in you. What I did was not done to slight you, but because I loved another. No words can set it right, I know, yet I come before you to ask forgiveness, that the Freys of the Crossing and the Starks of Winterfell may once again befriends.\\\"\\n\\nThe smaller girls fidgeted anxiously. Their older sisters waited for Lord Walder on his black oak throne. Jinglebell rocked back and forth, bells chiming on collar and crown.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Good,\\\" the Lord of the Crossing said. \\\"That was very good, Your Grace. \\\"No words can set it right,\\\" heh. Well said, well said. At the wedding feast I hope you will not refuse to dance with my daughters. It would please an old man's heart, heh.\\\" He bobbed his wrinkled pink head up and down, in much the same way his lackwit grandson did, though Lord Walder wore no bells. \\\"And here she is, Lord Edmure. My daughter Roslin, my most precious little blossom, heh.\\\"\\n\\nSer Benfrey led her into the hall. They looked enough alike to be full siblings. Judging from their age, both were children of the sixth Lady Frey; a Rosby, Catelyn seemed to recall.\\n\\nRoslin was small for her years, her skin as white as if she had just risen from a milk bath. Her face was comely, with a small chin, delicate nose, and big brown eyes. Thick chestnut hair fell in loose waves to a waist so tiny that Edmure would be able to put his hands around it. Beneath the lacy bodice of her pale blue gown, her breasts looked small but shapely.\\n\\n\\\"Your Grace.\\\" The girl went to her knees. \\\"Lord Edmure, I hope I am not a disappointment to you.\\\"\\n\\nFar from it, thought Catelyn. Her brother's face had lit up at the sight of her. \\\"You area delight tome, my lady,\\\" Edmure said. \\\"And ever will be, I know.\\\"\\n\\nRoslin had a small gap between two of her front teeth that made her shy with her smiles, but the flaw was almost endearing. Pretty enough, Catelyn thought, but so small, and she comes of Rosby stock. The Rosbys had never been robust. She much preferred the frames of some of the older girls in the hall; daughters or granddaughters, she could not be sure. They had a Crakehall look about them, and Lord Walder's third wife had been of that House. Wide hips to bear children, big breasts to nurse them, strong arms to carry them. The Crakehalls have always been a big-boned family, and strong.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"My lord is kind,\\\" the Lady Roslin said to Edmure.\\n\\n\\\"My lady is beautiful.\\\" Edmure took her hand and drew her to her feet. \\\"But why are you crying?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"For joy,\\\" Roslin said. \\\"I weep for joy, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Enough,\\\" Lord Walder broke in. \\\"You may weep and whisper after you're wed, heh. Benfrey, see your sister back to her chambers, she has a wedding to prepare for. And a bedding, heh, the sweetest part. For all, for all.\\\" His mouth moved in and out. \\\"We'll have music, such sweet music, and wine, heh, the red will run, and we'll put some wrongs aright. But now you're weary, and wet as well, dripping on my floor. There's fires waiting for you, and hot mulled wine, and baths if you want'em. Lothar, show our guests to their quarters.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I need to see my men across the river, my lord,\\\" Robb said.\\n\\n\\\"They shan't get lost,\\\" Lord Walder complained. \\\"They're crossed before, haven't they? When you came down from the north. You wanted crossing and I gave it to you, and you never said mayhaps, heh. But suit yourself. Lead each man across by the hand if you like, it's naught tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My lord!\\\" Catelyn had almost forgotten. \\\"Some food would be most welcome. We have ridden many leagues in the rain.\\\"\\n\\nWalder Frey's mouth moved in and out. \\\"Food, heh. A loaf of bread, a bite of cheese, mayhaps a sausage.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Some wine to wash it down,\\\" Robb said. \\\"And salt.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Bread and salt. Heh. Of course, of course.\\\" The old man clapped his hands together, and servants came into the hall, bearing flagons of wine and trays of bread, cheese, and butter. Lord Walder took a cup of red himself, and raised it high with a spotted hand. \\\"My guests,\\\" he said. \\\"My honored guests. Be welcome beneath my roof, and at my table.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We thank you for your hospitality, my lord,\\\" Robb replied. Edmure echoed him, along with the Greatjon, Ser Marq Piper, and the others. They drank his wine and ate his bread and butter. Catelyn tasted the wine and nibbled at some bread, and felt much the better for it. Now we should be safe, she thought.\\n\\nKnowing how petty the old man could be, she had expected their rooms to be bleak and cheerless. But the Freys had made more than ample provision for them, it seemed. The bridal chamber was large and richly appointed, dominated by a great featherbed with corner posts carved in the likeness of castle towers. Its draperies were Tully red and blue, a nice courtesy. Sweet-smelling carpets covered a plank floor, and a tall shuttered window opened to the south. Catelyn's own room was smaller, but handsomely furnished and comfortable, with afire burning in the hearth. Lame Lothar assured them that Robb would have an entire suite, as befit a king. \\\"If there is anything you require, you need only tell one of the guards.\\\" He bowed and withdrew, limping heavily as he made his way down the curving steps.\\n\\n\\\"We should post our own guards,\\\" Catelyn told her brother. She would rest easier with Stark and Tully men outside her door. The audience with Lord Walder had not been as painful as she feared, yet all the same she would be glad to be done with this. A few more days, and Robb will be off to battle, and me to a comfortable captivity at Seagard. Lord Jason would show her every courtesy, she had no doubt, but the prospect still depressed her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She could hear the sounds of horses below as the long column of mounted men wound their way across the bridge from castle to castle. The stones rumbled to the passage of heavy-laden wayns. Catelyn went to the window and gazed out, to watch Robb's host emerge from the eastern twin. \\\"The rain seems to be lessening.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now that we're inside.\\\" Edmure stood before the fire, letting the warmth wash over him. \\\"What did you make of Roslin?\\\"\\n\\nToo small and delicate. Childbirth will go hard on her. But her brother seemed well pleased with the girl, so all she said was, \\\"Sweet.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I believe she liked me. Why was she crying?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She's a maid on the eve of her wedding. A few tears are to be expected.\\\" Lysa had wept lakes the morning of their own wedding, though she had managed to be dry-eyed and radiant when Jon Arryn swept his cream-and-blue cloak about her shoulders.\\n\\n\\\"She's prettier than I dared hope.\\\" Edmure raised a hand before she could speak. \\\"I know there are more important things, spare me the sermon, septa. Even so... did you see some of those other maids Frey trotted out? The one with the twitch? Was that the shaking sickness? And those twins had more craters and eruptions on their faces than Petyr Pimple. When I saw that lot, I knew Roslin would be bald and one-eyed, with Jinglebell's wits and Black Walder's temper. But she seems gentle as well as fair.\\\" He looked perplexed. \\\"Why would the old weasel refuse to let me choose unless he meant to foist off someone hideous?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your fondness fora pretty face is well known,\\\" Catelyn reminded him. \\\"Perhaps Lord Walder actually wants you to be happy with your bride.\\\" Or more like, he did not want you balking over a boil and upsetting all his plans. \\\"Or it maybe that Roslin is the old man's favorite. The Lord of Riverrun is a much better match than most of his daughters can hope for.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"True.\\\" Her brother still seemed uncertain, however. \\\"Is it possible the girl is barren?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lord Walder wants his grandson to inherit Riverrun. How would it serve him to give you a barren wife?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It rids him of a daughter no one else would take.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Small good that will do him. Walder Frey is a peevish man, not a stupid one.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Still... it is possible?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Catelyn conceded, reluctantly. \\\"There are illnesses a girl can have in childhood that leave her unable to conceive. There's no reason to believe that Lady Roslin was so afflicted, though.\\\" She looked round the room. \\\"The Freys have received us more kindly than I had anticipated, if truth be told.\\\"\\n\\nEdmure laughed. \\\"A few barbed words and some unseemly gloating. From him that's courtesy. I expected the old weasel to piss in our wine and make us praise the vintage.\\\"\\n\\nThe jest left Catelyn strangely disquieted. \\\" If you will excuse me, I should change from these wet clothes.\\n\\n\\\"As you wish.\\\" Edmure yawned. \\\"I may nap an hour.\\\"\\n\\nShe retreated to her own room. The chest of clothes she'd brought from Riverrun had been carried up and laid at the foot of the bed. After she'd undressed and hung her wet clothing by the fire, she donned a warm wool dress of Tully red and blue, washed and brushed her hair and let it dry, and went in search of Freys.\\n\\nLord Walder's black oak throne was empty when she entered the hall, but some of his sons were drinking by the fire. Lame Lothar rose clumsily when he saw her. \\\"Lady Catelyn, I thought you would be resting. How may I be of service?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Are these your brothers?\\\" she asked.\\n\\n\\\"Brothers, half-brothers, good brothers, and nephews. Raymund and I shared a mother. Lord Lucias Vypren is my half-sister Lythene's husband, and Ser Damon is their son. My half-brother Ser Hosteen I believe you know. And this is Ser Leslyn Haigh and his sons, Ser Harys and Ser Donnel.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well met, sers. Is Ser Perwyn about? He helped escort me to Storm's End and back, when Robb sent me to speak with Lord Renly. I was looking forward to seeing him again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perwyn is away,\\\" Lame Lothar said. \\\"I shall give him your regards. I know he will regret having missed you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Surely he will return in time for Lady Roslin's wedding?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He had hoped to,\\\" said Lame Lothar, \\\"but with this rain... you saw how the rivers ran, my lady.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I did indeed,\\\" said Catelyn. \\\"I wonder if you would be so good as to direct me to your maester?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you unwell, my lady?\\\" asked Ser Hosteen, a powerful man with a square strong jaw.\\n\\n\\\"A woman's complaint. Nothing to concern you, ser.\\\"\\n\\nLothar, ever gracious, escorted her from the hall, up some steps, and across a covered bridge to another stair. \\\"You should find Maester Brenett in the turret on the top, my lady.\\\"\\n\\nCatelyn half expected that the maester would be yet another son of Walder Frey's, but Brenett did not have the look. He was a great fat man, bald and double-chinned and none too clean, to judge from the raven droppings that stained the sleeves of his robes, yet he seemed amiable enough. When she told him of Edmure's concerns about Lady Roslin's fertility, he chuckled. \\\"Your lord brother need have no fear, Lady Catelyn. She's small, I'll grant you, and narrow in the hips, but her mother was the same, and Lady Bethany gave Lord Walder a child every year.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"How many lived past infancy?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"she asked bluntly.\\n\\n\\\"Five.\\\" He ticked them off on fingers plump as sausages. \\\"Ser Perwyn. Ser Benfrey. Maester Willamen, who took his vows last year and now serves Lord Hunter in the Vale. Olyvar, who squired for your son. And Lady Roslin, the youngest. Four boys to one girl. Lord Edmure will have more sons than he knows what to do with.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am sure that will please him.\\\" So the girl was like to be fertile as well as fair of face. That should put Edmure's mind at ease. Lord Walder had left her brother no cause for complaint, so far as she could see.\\n\\nCatelyn did not return to her own room after leaving the maester; instead she went to Robb. She found Robin Flint and Ser Wendel Manderly with him, along with the Greatjon and his son, who was still called the Smalljon though he threatened to overtop his father. They were all damp. Another man, still wetter, stood before the fire in a pale pink cloak trimmed with white fur. \\\"Lord Bolton,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"Lady Catelyn,\\\" he replied, his voice faint, \\\"it is a pleasure to look on you again, even in such trying times.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are kind to say so.\\\" Catelyn could feel gloom in the room. Even the Greatjon seemed somber and subdued. She looked at their grim faces and said, \\\"What's happened?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lannisters on the Trident,\\\" said Ser Wendel unhappily. \\\"My brother is taken again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And Lord Bolton has brought us further word of Winterfell,\\\" Robb added. \\\"Ser Rodrik was not the only good man to die. Cley Cerwyn and Leobald Tallhart were slain as well.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Cley Cerwyn was only a boy,\\\" she said, saddened. \\\"Is this true, then? All dead, and Winterfell gone?\\\"\\n\\nBolton's pale eyes met her own. \\\"The ironmen burned both castle and winter town. Some of your people were taken back to the Dreadfort by my son, Ramsay.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your bastard was accused of grievous crimes,\\\" Catelyn reminded him sharply. \\\"Of murder, rape, and worse.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Roose Bolton said. \\\"His blood is tainted, that cannot be denied. Yet he is a good fighter, as cunning as he is fearless. When the ironmen cut down Ser Rodrik, and Leobald Tallhart soon after, it fell to Ramsay to lead the battle, and he did. He swears that he shall not sheathe his sword so long as a single Greyjoy remains in the north. Perhaps such service might atone in some small measure for whatever crimes his bastard blood has led him to commit.\\\" He shrugged. \\\"Or not. When the war is done, His Grace must weigh and judge. By then I hope to have a trueborn son by Lady Walda.\\\"\\n\\nThis is a cold man, Catelyn realized, not for the first time.\\n\\n\\\"Did Ramsay mention Theon Greyjoy?\\\" Robb demanded. \\\"Was he slain as well, or did he flee?\\\"\\n\\nRoose Bolton removed a ragged strip of leather from the pouch at his belt. \\\"My son sent this with his letter.\\\"\\n\\nSer Wendel turned his fat face away. Robin Flint and Smalljon Umber exchanged a look, and the Greatjon snorted like a bull. \\\"Is that... skin?\\\" said Robb.\\n\\n\\\"The skin from the little finger of Theon Greyjoy's left hand. My son is cruel, I confess it. And yet... what is a little skin, against the lives of two young princes? You were their mother, my lady. May I offer you this... small token of revenge?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Part of Catelyn wanted to clutch the grisly trophy to her heart, but she made herself resist. \\\"Put it away. Please.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Flaying Theon will not bring my brothers back,\\\" Robb said. \\\"I want his head, not his skin.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is Balon Greyjoy's only living son,\\\" Lord Bolton said softly, as if they had forgotten, \\\"and now rightful King of the Iron Islands. A captive king has great value as a hostage.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hostage?\\\" The word raised Catelyn's hackles. Hostages were oft exchanged. \\\"Lord Bolton, I hope you are not suggesting that we free the man who killed my sons.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Whoever wins the Seastone Chair will want Theon Greyjoy dead,\\\" Bolton pointed out. \\\"Even in chains, he has a better claim than any of his uncles. Hold him, I say, and demand concessions from the ironborn as the price of his execution.\\\"\\n\\nRobb considered that reluctantly, but in the end he nodded. \\\"Yes. Very well. Keep him alive, then. For the present. Hold him secure at the Dreadfort till we've retaken the north.\\\"\\n\\nCatelyn turned back to Roose Bolton. \\\"Ser Wendel said something of Lannisters on the Trident?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He did, my lady. I blame myself. I delayed too long before leaving Harrenhal. Aenys Frey departed several days before me and crossed the Trident at the ruby ford, though not without difficulty. But by the time we came up the river was a torrent. I had no choice but to ferry my men across in small boats, of which we had too few. Two-thirds of my strength was on the north side when the Lannisters attacked those still waiting to cross. Norrey, Locke, and Burley men chiefly, with Ser Wylis Manderly and his White Harbor knights as rearguard. I was on the wrong side of the Trident, powerless to help them. Ser Wylis rallied our men as best he could, but Gregor Clegane attacked with heavy horse and drove them into the river. As many drowned as were cut down. More fled, and the rest were taken captive.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Gregor Clegane was always ill news, Catelyn reflected. Would Robb need to march south again to deal with him? Or was the Mountain coming here? \\\"Is Clegane across the river, then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\" Bolton's voice was soft, but certain. \\\"I left six hundred men at the ford. Spearmen from the rills, the mountains, and the White Knife, a hundred Hornwood longbows, some freeriders and hedge knights, and a strong force of Stout and Cerwyn men to stiffen them. Ronnel Stout and Ser Kyle Condon have the command. Ser Kyle was the late Lord Cerwyn's right hand, as I'm sure you know; my lady. Lions swim no better than wolves. So long as the river runs high, Ser Gregor will not cross.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The last thing we need is the Mountain at our backs when we startup the causeway,\\\" said Robb. \\\"You did well, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your Grace is too kind. I suffered grievous losses on the Green Fork, and Glover and Tallhart worse at Duskendale.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Duskendale.\\\" Robb made the word a curse. \\\"Robett Glover will answer for that when I see him, I promise you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A folly,\\\" Lord Bolton agreed, \\\"but Glover was heedless after he learned that Deepwood Motte had fallen. Grief and fear will do that to a man.\\\"\\n\\nDuskendale was done and cold; it was the battles still to come that worried Catelyn. \\\"How many men have you brought my son?\\\" she asked Roose Bolton pointedly.\\n\\nHis queer colorless eyes studied her face a moment before he answered. \\\"Some five hundred horse and three thousand foot, my lady. Dreadfort men, in chief, and some from Karhold. With the loyalty of the Karstarks so doubtful now, I thought it best to keep them close. I regret there are not more.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It should be enough,\\\" said Robb. \\\"You will have command of my rearguard, Lord Bolton. I mean to start for the Neck as soon as my uncle has been wedded and bedded. We're going home.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"ARYA\\n\\nThe outriders came on them an hour from the Green Fork, as the wayn was slogging down a muddy road.\\n\\n\\\"Keep your head down and your mouth shut,\\\" the Hound warned her as the three spurred toward them; a knight and two squires, lightly armored and mounted on fast palfreys. Clegane cracked his whip at the team, a pair of old drays that had known better days. The wayn was creaking and swaying, its two huge wooden wheels squeezing mud up out of the deep ruts in the road with every turn. Stranger followed, tied to the wagon.\\n\\nThe big bad-tempered courser wore neither armor, barding, nor harness, and the Hound himself was garbed in splotchy green roughspun and a soot-grey mantle with a hood that swallowed his head. So long as he kept his eyes down you could not see his face, only the whites of his eyes peering out. He looked like some down-at-heels farmer. A big farmer, though. And under the roughspun was boiled leather and oiled mail, Arya knew. She looked like a farmer's son, or maybe a swineherd. And behind them were four squat casks of salt pork and one of pickled pigs\\\" feet.\\n\\nThe riders split and circled them fora look before they came up close. Clegane drew the wayn to a halt and waited patiently on their pleasure. The knight bore spear and sword while his squires carried longbows. The badges on their jerkins were smaller versions of the sigil sewn on their master's surcoat; a black pitchfork on a golden bar sinister, upon a russet field. Arya had thought of revealing herself to the first outriders they encountered, but she had always pictured grey-cloaked men with the direwolf on their breasts. She might have risked it even if they'd worn the Umber giant or the Glover fist, but she did not know this pitchfork knight or whom he served. The closest thing to a pitchfork she had ever seen at Winterfell was the trident in the hand of Lord Manderly's merman.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You have business at the Twins?\\\" the knight asked.\\n\\n\\\"Salt pork for the wedding feast, if it please you, ser.\\\" The Hound mumbled his reply, his eyes down, his face hidden.\\n\\n\\\"Salt pork never pleases me.\\\" The pitchfork knight gave Clegane only the most cursory glance, and paid no attention at all to Arya, but he looked long and hard at Stranger. The stallion was no plow horse, that was plain at a glance. One of the squires almost wound up in the mud when the big black courser bit at his own mount. \\\"How did you come by this beast?\\\" the pitchfork knight demanded.\\n\\n\\\"M'lady told me to bring him, ser,\\\" Clegane said humbly. \\\"He's a wedding gift for young Lord Tully.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What lady? Who is it you serve?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Old Lady Whent, ser.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Does she think she can buy Harrenhal back with a horse?\\\" the knight asked. \\\"Gods, is there any fool like an old fool?\\\" Yet he waved them down the road. \\\"Goon with you, then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye, m'lord.\\\" The Hound snapped his whip again, and the old drays resumed their weary trek. The wheels had settled deep into the mud during the halt, and it took several moments for the team to pull them free again. By then the outriders were riding off. Clegane gave them one last look and snorted. \\\"Ser Donnel Haigh,\\\" he said. \\\"I've taken more horses off him than I can count. Armor as well. Once I near killed him in a mêlée.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How come he didn't know you, then?\\\" Arya asked.\\n\\n\\\"Because knights are fools, and it would have been beneath him to look twice at some poxy peasant.\\\" He gave the horses a lick with the whip. \\\"Keep your eyes down and your tone respectful and say ser a lot, and most knights will never see you. They pay more mind to horses than to smallfolk. He might have known Stranger if he'd ever seen me ride him.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He would have known your face, though.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Arya had no doubt of that. Sandor Clegane's burns would not be easy to forget, once you saw them. He couldn't hide the scars behind a helm, either; not so long as the helm was made in the shape of a snarling dog.\\n\\nThat was why they'd needed the wayn and the pickled pigs\\\" feet. \\\"I'm not going to be dragged before your brother in chains,\\\" the Hound had told her, \\\"and I'd just as soon not have to cut through his men to get to him. So we play a little game.\\\"\\n\\nA farmer chance-met on the kingsroad had provided them with wayn, horses, garb, and casks, though not willingly. The Hound had taken them at swordpoint. When the farmer cursed him fora robber, he said, \\\"No, a forager. Be grateful you get to keep your smallclothes. Now take those boots off. Or I'll take your legs off. Your choice.\\\" The farmer was as big as Clegane, but all the same he chose to give up his boots and keep his legs.\\n\\nEvenfall found them still trudging toward the Green Fork and Lord Frey's twin castles. I am almost there, Arya thought. She knew she ought to be excited, but her belly was all knotted uptight. Maybe that was just the fever she'd been fighting, but maybe not. Last night she'd had a bad dream, a terrible dream. She couldn't remember what she'd dreamed of now, but the feeling had lingered all day. If anything, it had only gotten stronger. Fear cuts deeper than swords. She had to be strong now, the way her father told her. There was nothing between her and her mother but a castle gate, a river, and an army... but it was Robb's army, so there was no real danger there. Was there?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Roose Bolton was one of them, though. The Leech Lord, as the outlaws called him. That made her uneasy. She had fled Harrenhal to getaway from Bolton as much as from the Bloody Mummers, and she'd had to cut the throat of one of his guards to escape. Did he know she'd done that? Or did he blame Gendry or Hot Pie? Would he have told her mother? What would he do if he saw her? He probably won't even know me. She looked more like a drowned rat than a lord's cupbearer these days. A drowned boy rat. The Hound had hacked handfuls of her hair off only two days past. He was an even worse barber than Yoren, and he'd left her half bald on one side. Robb won't know me either, I bet. Or even Mother. She had been a little girl the last time she saw them, the day Lord Eddard Stark left Winterfell.\\n\\nThey heard the music before they saw the castle; the distant rattle of drums, the brazen blare of horns, the thin skirling of pipes faint beneath the growl of the river and the sound of the rain beating on their heads. \\\"We've missed the wedding,\\\" the Hound said, \\\"but it sounds as though the feast is still going. I'll be rid of you soon.\\\"\\n\\nNo, I'll be rid of you, Arya thought.\\n\\nThe road had been running mostly northwest, but now it turned due west between an apple orchard and afield of drowned corn beaten down by the rain. They passed the last of the apple trees and crested arise, and the castles, river, and camps all appeared at once. There were hundreds of horses and thousands of men, most of them milling about the three huge feast tents that stood side by side facing the castle gates, like three great canvas longhalls. Robb had made his camp well back from the walls, on higher, drier ground, but the Green Fork had overflown its bank and even claimed a few carelessly placed tents.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The music from the castles was louder here. The sound of the drums and horns rolled across the camp. The musicians in the nearer castle were playing a different song than the ones in the castle on the far bank, though, so it sounded more like a battle than a song. \\\"They're not very good,\\\" Arya observed.\\n\\nThe Hound made a sound that might have been a laugh. \\\"There's old deaf women in Lannisport complaining of the din, I'll warrant. I'd heard Walder Frey's eyes were failing, but no one mentioned his bloody ears.\\\"\\n\\nArya found herself wishing it were day. If the sun was out and the wind was blowing, she would have been able to seethe banners better. She would have looked for the direwolf of Stark, or maybe the Cerwyn battleaxe or the Glover fist. But in the gloom of night all the colors looked grey. The rain had dwindled down to a fine drizzle, almost a mist, but an earlier downpour had left the banners wet as dishrags, sodden and unreadable.\\n\\nA hedge of wagons and carts had been drawn up along the perimeter to make a crude wooden wall against any attack. That was where the guards stopped them. The lantern their sergeant carried shed enough light for Arya to see that his cloak was a pale pink, spotted with red teardrops. The men under him had the Leech Lord's badge sewn over their hearts, the flayed man of the Dreadfort. Sandor Clegane gave them the same tale he'd used on the outriders, but the Bolton sergeant was a harder sort of nut than Ser Donnel Haigh had been. \\\"Salt pork's no fit meat fora lord's wedding feast,\\\" he said scornfully.\\n\\n\\\"Got pickled pigs' feet too, ser.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Not for the feast, you don't. The feast's half done. And I'm a northman, not some milksuck southron knight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was told to seethe steward, or the cook...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Castle's closed. The lordlings are not to be disturbed.\\\" The sergeant considered a moment. \\\"You can unload by the feast tents, there.\\\" He pointed with a mailed hand. \\\"Ale makes a man hungry, and old Frey won't miss a few pigs'feet. He don't have the teeth for such anyhow. Ask for Sedgekins, he'll know what's to be done with you.\\\" He barked a command, and his men rolled one of the wagons aside for them to enter.\\n\\nThe Hound's whip spurred the team toward the tents. No one seemed to pay them any mind. They splashed past rows of brightly colored pavilions, their walls of wet silk lit up like magic lanterns by lamps and braziers inside; pink and gold and green they glimmered, striped and fretty and chequy, emblazoned with birds and beasts, chevrons and stars, wheels and weapons. Arya spotted a yellow tent with six acrons on its panels, three over two over one. Lord Smallwood, she knew, remembering Acorn Hall so faraway, and the lady who'd said she was pretty.\\n\\nBut for every shimmering silk pavilion there were two dozen of felt or canvas, opaque and dark. There were barracks tents too, big enough to shelter two score footsoldiers, though even those were dwarfed by the three great feast tents. The drinking had been going on for hours, it seemed. Arya heard shouted toasts and the clash of cups, mixed in with all the usual camp sounds, horses whinnying and dogs barking, wagons rumbling through the dark, laughter and curses, the clank and clatter of steel and wood. The music grew still louder as they approached the castle, but under that was a deeper, darker sound: the river, the swollen Green Fork, growling like a lion in its den.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Arya twisted and turned, trying to look everywhere at once, hoping fora glimpse of a direwolf badge, fora tent done up in grey and white, fora face she knew from Winterfell. All she saw were strangers. She stared at a man relieving himself in the reeds, but he wasn't Alebelly. She saw a half-dressed girl burst from a tent laughing, but the tent was pale blue, not grey like she'd thought at first, and the man who went running after her wore a treecat on his doublet, not a wolf. Beneath a tree, four archers were slipping waxed strings over the notches of their longbows, but they were not her father's archers. A maester crossed their path, but he was too young and thin to be Maester Luwin. Arya gazed up at the Twins, their high tower windows glowing softly wherever alight was burning. Through the haze of rain, the castles looked spooky and mysterious, like something from one of Old Nan's tales, but they weren't Winterfell.\\n\\nThe press was thickest at the feast tents. The wide flaps were tied back, and men were pushing in and outwith drinking horns and tankards in their hands, some with camp followers. Arya glanced inside as the Hound drove past the first of the three, and saw hundreds of men crowding the benches and jostling around the casks of mead and ale and wine. There was hardly room to move inside, but none of them seemed to mind. At least they were warm and dry. Cold wet Arya envied them. Some were even singing. The fine misty rain was steaming all around the door from the heat escaping from inside. \\\"Here's to Lord Edmure and Lady Roslin,\\\" she heard a voice shout. They all drank, and someone yelled, \\\"Here's to the Young Wolf and Queen Jeyne.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Who is Queen Jeyne? Arya wondered briefly. The only queen she knew was Cersei.\\n\\nFirepits had been dug outside the feast tents, sheltered beneath rude canopies of woven wood and hides that kept the rain out, so long as it fell straight down. The wind was blowing off the river, though, so the drizzle came in anyway, enough to make the fires hiss and swirl. Serving men were turning joints of meat on spits above the flames. The smells made Arya's mouth water. \\\"Shouldn't we stop?\\\" she asked Sandor Clegane. \\\"There's northmen in the tents.\\\" She knew them by their beards, by their faces, by their cloaks of bearskin and sealskin, by their half-heard toasts and the songs they sang; Karstarks and Umbers and men of the mountain clans. \\\"I bet there are Winterfell men too.\\\" Her father's men, the Young Wolf's men, the direwolves of Stark.\\n\\n\\\"Your brother will be in the castle,\\\" he said. \\\"Your mother too. You want them or not?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" she said. \\\"What about Sedgekins?\\\" The sergeant had told them to ask for Sedgekins.\\n\\n\\\"Sedgekins can bugger himself with a hot poker.\\\" Clegane shook out his whip, and sent it hissing through the soft rain to bite at a horse's flank. \\\"It's your bloody brother I want.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"CATELYN\\n\\nThe drums were pounding, pounding, pounding, and her head with them. Pipes wailed and flutes trilled from the musicians' gallery at the foot of the hall; fiddles screeched, horns blew, the skins skirled a lively tune, but the drumming drove them all. The sounds echoed off the rafters, whilst the guests ate, drank, and shouted atone another below. Walder Frey must be deaf as a stone to call this music. Catelyn sipped a cup of wine and watched Jinglebell prance to the sounds of'Alysanne.\\\" At least she thought it was meant to be'Alysanne.\\\" With these players, it might as easily have been'The Bear and the Maiden Fair.\\\"\\n\\nOutside the rain still fell, but within the Twins the air was thick and hot. Afire roared in the hearth and rows of torches burned smokily from iron sconces on the walls. Yet most of the heat came off the bodies of the wedding guests, jammed in so thick along the benches that every man who tried to lift his cup poked his neighbor in the ribs.\\n\\nEven on the dais they were closer than Catelyn would have liked. She had been placed between Ser Ryman Frey and Roose Bolton, and had gotten a good noseful of both. Ser Ryman drank as if Westeros was about to run short of wine, and sweated it all out under his arms. He had bathed in lemonwater, she judged, but no lemon could mask so much sour sweat. Roose Bolton had a sweeter smell to him, yet no more pleasant. He sipped hippocras in preference to wine or mead, and ate but little.\\n\\nCatelyn could not fault him for his lack of appetite. The wedding feast began with a thin leek soup, followed by a salad of green beans, onions, and beets, river pike poached in almond milk, mounds of mashed turnips that were cold before they reached the table, jellied calves'brains, and a leche of stringy beef. It was poor fare to set before a king, and the calves\\\" brains turned Catelyn's stomach. Yet Robb ate it uncomplaining, and her brother was too caught up with his bride to pay much attention.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"You would never guess Edmure complained of Roslin all the way from Riverrun to the Twins. Husband and wife ate from a single plate, drank from a single cup, and exchanged chaste kisses between sips. Most of the dishes Edmure waved away. She could not blame him for that. She remembered little of the food served at her own wedding feast. Did I even taste it? Or spend the whole time gazing at Ned's face, wondering who he was?\\n\\nPoor Roslin's smile had a fixed quality to it, as if someone had sewn it onto her face. Well, she is a maid wedded, but the bedding's yet to come. No doubt she's as terrified as I was. Robb was seated between Alyx Frey and Fair Walda, two of the more nubile Frey maidens. \\\"At the wedding feast I hope you will not refuse to dance with my daughters,\\\" Walder Frey had said. \\\"It would please an old man's heart.\\\" His heart should be well pleased, then; Robb had done his duty like a king. He had danced with each of the girls, with Edmure's bride and the eighth Lady Frey, with the widow Ami and Roose Bolton's wife Fat Walda, with the pimply twins Serra and Sarra, even with Shirei, Lord Walder's youngest, who must have been all of six. Catelyn wondered whether the Lord of the Crossing would be satisfied, or if he would find cause for complaint in all the other daughters and granddaughters who had not had a turn with the king. \\\"Your sisters dance very well,\\\" she said to Ser Ryman Frey, trying to be pleasant.\\n\\n\\\"They're aunts and cousins.\\\" Ser Ryman drank a swallow of wine, the sweat trickling down his cheek into his beard.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A sour man, and in his cups, Catelyn thought. The Late Lord Frey might be niggardly when it came to feeding his guests, but he did not stint on the drink. The ale, wine, and mead were flowing as fast as the river outside. The Greatjon was already roaring drunk. Lord Walder's son Merrett was matching him cup for cup, but Ser Whalen Frey had passed out trying to keep up with the two of them. Catelyn would sooner Lord Umber had seen fit to stay sober, but telling the Greatjon not to drink was like telling him not to breathe fora few hours.\\n\\nSmalljon Umber and Robin Flint sat near Robb, to the other side of Fair Walda and Alyx, respectively. Neither of them was drinking; along with Patrek Mallister and Dacey Mormont, they were her son's guards this evening. A wedding feast was not a battle, but there were always dangers when men were in their cups, and a king should never be unguarded. Catelyn was glad of that, and even more glad of the swordbelts hanging on pegs along the walls. No man needs a longsword to deal with jellied calves\\\" brains.\\n\\n\\\"Everyone thought my lord would choose Fair Walda,\\\" Lady Walda Bolton told Ser Wendel, shouting to be heard above the music. Fat Walda was around pink butterball of a girl with watery blue eyes, limp yellow hair, and a huge bosom, yet her voice was a fluttering squeak. It was hard to picture her in the Dreadfort in her pink lace and cape of vair. \\\"My lord grandfather offered Roose his bride's weight in silver as a dowry, though, so my lord of Bolton picked me.\\\" The girl's chins jiggled when she laughed. \\\"I weigh six stone more than Fair Walda, but that was the first time I was glad of it. I'm Lady Bolton now and my cousin's still a maid, and she'll be nineteen soon, poor thing.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Lord of the Dreadfort paid the chatter no mind, Catelyn saw. Sometimes he tasted a bite of this, a spoon of that, tearing bread from the loaf with short strong fingers, but the meal could not distract him. Bolton had made a toast to Lord Walder's grandsons when the wedding feast began, pointedly mentioning that Walder and Walder were in the care of his bastard son. From the way the old man had squinted at him, his mouth sucking at the air, Catelyn knew he had heard the unspoken threat.\\n\\nWas there ever a wedding less joyful? she wondered, until she remembered her poor Sansa and her marriage to the Imp. Mother take mercy on her. She has a gentle soul. The heat and smoke and noise were making her sick. The musicians in the gallery might be numerous and loud, but they were not especially gifted. Catelyn took another swallow of wine and allowed a page to refill her cup. A few more hours, and the worst will be over. By this hour tomorrow Robb would be off to another battle, this time with the ironmen at Moat Cailin. Strange, how that prospect seemed almost a relief. He will win his battle. He wins all his battles, and the ironborn are without a king. Besides, Ned taught him well. The drums were pounding. Jinglebell hopped past her once again, but the music was so loud she could scarcely hear his bells.\\n\\nAbove the din came a sudden snarling as two dogs fell upon each other over a scrap of meat. They rolled across the floor, snapping and biting, as a howl of mirth went up. Someone doused them with a flagon of ale and they broke apart. One limped toward the dais. Lord Walder's toothless mouth opened in a bark of laughter as the dripping wet dog shook ale and hair allover three of his grandsons.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The sight of the dogs made Catelyn wish once more for Grey Wind, but Robb's direwolf was nowhere to be seen.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Lord Walder had refused to allow him in the hall. \\\"Your wild beast has a taste for human flesh, I hear, heh,\\\" the old man had said. \\\"Rips out throats, yes. I'll have no such creature at my Roslin's feast, amongst women and little ones, all my sweet innocents.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Grey Wind is no danger to them, my lord,\\\" Robb protested. \\\"Not so long as I am there.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You were thereat my gates, were you not? When the wolf attacked the grandsons I sent to greet you? I heard all about that, don't think I didn't, heh.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No harm was done-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No harm, the king says? No harm? Petyr fell from his horse, fell. I lost a wife the same way, falling.\\\" His mouth worked in and out. \\\"Or was she just some strumpet? Bastard Walder's mother, yes, now I recall. She fell off her horse and cracked her head. What would Your Grace do if Petyr had broken his neck, heh? Give me another apology in place of a grandson? No, no, no. Might be you're king, I won't say you're not, the King in the North, heh, but under my roof, my rule. Have your wolf or have your wedding, sire. You'll not have both.\\\"\\n\\nCatelyn could tell that her son was furious, but he yielded with as much courtesy as he could summon. If it pleases Lord Walder to serve me stewed crow smothered in maggots, he'd told her, I'll eat it and ask fora second bowl. And so he had.\\n\\nThe Greatjon had drunk another of Lord Walder's brood under the table, Petyr Pimple this time. The lad has a third his capacity, what did he expect? Lord Umber wiped his mouth, stood, and began to sing. \\\"A bear there was, a bear, a BEAR! All black and brown and covered with hair!\\\" His voice was not at all bad, though somewhat thick from drink. Unfortunately the fiddlers and drummers and flutists up above were playing'Flowers of Spring,\\\" which suited the words of'The Bear and the Maiden Fair\\\" as well as snails might suit a bowl of porridge. Even poor Jinglebell covered his ears at the cacophony.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Roose Bolton murmured some words too soft to hear and went off in search of a privy. The cramped hall was in a constant uproar of guests and servants coming and going. A second feast, for knights and lords of somewhat lesser rank, was roaring along in the other castle, she knew. Lord Walder had exiled his baseborn children and their offspring to that side of the river, so that Robb's northmen had taken to referring to it as'the bastard feast.\\\" Some guests were no doubt stealing off to see if the bastards were having a better time than they were. Some might even be venturing as far as the camps. The Freys had provided wagons of wine, ale, and mead, so the common soldiers could drink to the wedding of Riverrun and the Twins.\\n\\nRobb sat down in Bolton's vacant place. \\\"A few more hours and this farce is done, Mother,\\\" he said in a low voice, as the Greatjon sang of the maid with honey in her hair. \\\"Black Walder's been mild as a lamb for once. And Uncle Edmure seems well content in his bride.\\\" He leaned across her. \\\"Ser Ryman?\\\"\\n\\nSer Ryman Frey blinked and said, \\\"Sire. Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'd hoped to ask Olyvar to squire for me when we march north,\\\" said Robb, \\\"but I do not see him here. Would he beat the other feast?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Olyvar?\\\" Ser Ryman shook his head. \\\"No. Not Olyvar. Gone... gone from the castles. Duty.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see.\\\" Robb's tone suggested otherwise. When Ser Ryman offered nothing more, the king got to his feet again. \\\"Would you care fora dance, Mother?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Thank you, but no.\\\" A dance was the last thing she needed, the way her head was throbbing. \\\"No doubt one of Lord Walder's daughters would be pleased to partner you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, no doubt.\\\" His smile was resigned.\\n\\nThe musicians were playing'Iron Lances\\\" by then, while the Greatjon sang'The Lusty Lad.\\\" Someone should acquaint them with each other, it might improve the harmony. Catelyn turned back to Ser Ryman. \\\"I had heard that one of your cousins was a singer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Alesander. Symond's son. Alyx is his sister.\\\" He raised a cup toward where she danced with Robin Flint.\\n\\n\\\"Will Alesander be playing for us tonight?\\\"\\n\\nSer Ryman squinted at her. \\\"Not him. He's away.\\\" He wiped sweat from his brow and lurched to his feet. \\\"Pardons, my lady. Pardons.\\\" Catelyn watched him stagger toward the door.\\n\\nEdmure was kissing Roslin and squeezing her hand. Elsewhere in the hall, Ser Marq Piper and Ser Danwell Frey played a drinking game, Lame Lothar said something amusing to Ser Hosteen, one of the younger Freys juggled three daggers fora group of giggly girls, and Jinglebell sat on the floor sucking wine off his fingers. The servers were bringing out huge silver platters piled high with cuts of juicy pink lamb, the most appetizing dish they'd seen all evening. And Robb was leading Dacey Mormont in a dance.\\n\\nWhen she wore a dress in place of a hauberk, Lady Maege's eldest daughter was quite pretty; tall and willowy, with ashy smile that made her long face light up. It was pleasant to see that she could be as graceful on the dance floor as in the training yard. Catelyn wondered if Lady Maege had reached the Neck as yet. She had taken her other daughters with her, but as one of Robb's battle companions Dacey had chosen to remain by his side. He has Ned's gift for inspiring loyalty. Olyvar Frey had been devoted to her son as well. Hadn't Robb said that Olyvar wanted to remain with him even after he'd married Jeyne?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Seated betwixt his black oak towers, the Lord of the Crossing clapped his spotted hands together. The noise they made was so faint that even those on the dais scarce heard it, but Ser Aenys and Ser Hosteen saw and began to pound their cups on the table. Lame Lothar joined them, then Marq Piper and Ser Danwell and Ser Raymund. Half the guests were soon pounding. Finally even the mob of musicians in the gallery took note. The piping, drumming, and fiddling trailed off into quiet.\\n\\n\\\"Your Grace,\\\" Lord Walder called out to Robb, \\\"the septon has prayed his prayers, some words have been said, and Lord Edmure's wrapped my sweetling in a fish cloak, but they are not yet man and wife. A sword needs a sheath, heh, and a wedding needs a bedding. What does my sire say? Is it meet that we should bed them?\\\"\\n\\nA score or more of Walder Frey's sons and grandsons began to bang their cups again, shouting, \\\"To bed! To bed! To bed with them!\\\" Roslin had gone white. Catelyn wondered whether it was the prospect of losing her maidenhead that frightened the girl, or the bedding itself. With so many siblings, she was not like to be a stranger to the custom, but it was different when you were the one being bedded. On Catelyn's own wedding night, Jory Cassell had torn her gown in his haste to get her out of it, and drunken Desmond Grell kept apologizing for every bawdy joke, only to make another. When Lord Dustin had beheld her naked, he'd told Ned that her breasts were enough to make him wish he'd never been weaned. Poor man, she thought. He had ridden south with Ned, never to return. Catelyn wondered how many of the men here tonight would be dead before the year was done. Too many, I fear.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Robb raised a hand. \\\"If you think the time is meet, Lord Walder, by all means let us bed them.\\\"\\n\\nA roar of approval greeted his pronouncement. Up in the gallery the musicians took up their pipes and horns and fiddles again, and began to play'The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown.\\\" Jinglebell hopped from foot to foot, his own crown ringing. \\\"I hear Tully men have trout between their legs instead of cocks,\\\" Alyx Frey called out boldly. \\\"Does it take a worm to make them rise?\\\" To which Ser Marq Piper threw back, \\\"I hear that Frey women have two gates in place of one!\\\" and Alyx said, \\\"Aye, but both are closed and barred to little things like you!\\\" A gust of laughter followed, until Patrek Mallister climbed up onto a table to propose a toast to Edmure's one-eyed fish. \\\"And a mighty pike it is!\\\" he proclaimed. \\\"Nay, I'll wager it's a minnow,\\\" Fat Walda Bolton shouted out from Catelyn's side. Then the general cry of'Bed them! Bed them!\\\" went up again.\\n\\nThe guests swarmed the dais, the drunkest in the forefront as ever. The men and boys surrounded Roslin and lifted her into the air whilst the maids and mothers in the hall pulled Edmure to his feet and began tugging at his clothing. He was laughing and shouting bawdy jokes back at them, though the music was too loud for Catelyn to hear. She heard the Greatjon, though. \\\"Give this little bride tome,\\\" he bellowed as he shoved through the other men and threw Roslin over one shoulder. \\\"Look at this little thing! No meat on her at all!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Catelyn felt sorry for the girl. Most brides tried to return the banter, or at least pretended to enjoy it, but Roslin was stiff with terror, clutching the Greatjon as if she feared he might drop her. She's crying too, Catelyn realized as she watched Ser Marq Piper pull off one of the bride's shoes. I hope Edmure is gentle with the poor child. Jolly, bawdy music still poured down from the gallery; the queen was taking off her kirtle now, and the king his tunic.\\n\\nShe knew she should join the throng of women round her brother, but she would only ruin their fun. The last thing she felt just now was bawdy. Edmure would forgive her absence, she did not doubt; much jollier to be stripped and bedded by a score of lusty, laughing Freys than by a sour, stricken sister.\\n\\nAs man and maid were carried from the hall, a trail of clothing behind them, Catelyn saw that Robb had also remained. Walder Frey was prickly enough to see some insult to his daughter in that. He should join in Roslin's bedding, but is it my place to tell him so? She tensed, until she saw that others had stayed as well. Petyr Pimple and Ser Whalen Frey slept on, their heads on the table. Merrett Frey poured himself another cup of wine, while Jinglebell wandered about stealing bites off the plates of those who'd left. Ser Wendel Manderly was lustily attacking a leg of lamb. And of course Lord Walder was far too feeble to leave his seat without help. He will expect Robb to go, though. She could almost hear the old man asking why His Grace did not want to see his daughter naked. The drums were pounding again, pounding and pounding and pounding.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2279,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Helping the author, keep the tale going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 53"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Catelyn felt sorry for the girl. Most brides tried to return the banter, or at least pretended to enjoy it, but Roslin was stiff with terror, clutching the Greatjon as if she feared he might drop her. She's crying too, Catelyn realized as she watched Ser Marq Piper pull off one of the bride's shoes. I hope Edmure is gentle with the poor child. Jolly, bawdy music still poured down from the gallery; the queen was taking off her kirtle now, and the king his tunic.\n\nShe knew she should join the throng of women round her brother, but she would only ruin their fun. The last thing she felt just now was bawdy. Edmure would forgive her absence, she did not doubt; much jollier to be stripped and bedded by a score of lusty, laughing Freys than by a sour, stricken sister.\n\nAs man and maid were carried from the hall, a trail of clothing behind them, Catelyn saw that Robb had also remained. Walder Frey was prickly enough to see some insult to his daughter in that. He should join in Roslin's bedding, but is it my place to tell him so? She tensed, until she saw that others had stayed as well. Petyr Pimple and Ser Whalen Frey slept on, their heads on the table. Merrett Frey poured himself another cup of wine, while Jinglebell wandered about stealing bites off the plates of those who'd left. Ser Wendel Manderly was lustily attacking a leg of lamb. And of course Lord Walder was far too feeble to leave his seat without help. He will expect Robb to go, though. She could almost hear the old man asking why His Grace did not want to see his daughter naked. The drums were pounding again, pounding and pounding and pounding."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Dacey Mormont, who seemed to be the only woman left in the hall besides Catelyn, stepped up behind Edwyn Frey, and touched him lightly on the arm as she said something in his ear. Edwyn wrenched himself away from her with unseemly violence. \"No,\" he said, too loudly. \"I'm done with dancing for the nonce.\" Dacey paled and turned away. Catelyn got slowly to her feet. What just happened there? Doubt gripped her heart, where an instant before had been only weariness. It is nothing, she tried to tell herself, you are seeing grumkins in the woodpile, you are become an old silly woman sick with grief and fear. But something must have shown on her face. Even Ser Wendel Manderly took note. \"Is something amiss?\" he asked, the leg of lamb in his hands.\n\nShe did not answer him. Instead she went after Edwyn Frey. The players in the gallery had finally gotten both king and queen down to their name-day suits. With scarcely a moment's respite, they began to play a very different sort of song. No one sang the words, but Catelyn knew'The Rains of Castamere\" when she heard it. Edwyn was hurrying toward a door. She hurried faster, driven by the music. Six quick strides and she caught him. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? She grabbed Edwyn by the arm to turn him and went cold allover when she felt the iron rings beneath his silken sleeve.\n\nCatelyn slapped him so hard she broke his lip. Olyvar, she thought, and Perwyn, Alesander, all absent. And Roslin wept...\n\nEdwyn Frey shoved her aside. The music drowned all other sound, echoing off the walls as if the stones themselves were playing. Robb gave Edwyn an angry look and moved to block his way... and staggered suddenly as a quarrel sprouted from his side, just beneath the shoulder. If he screamed then, the sound was swallowed by the pipes and horns and fiddles. Catelyn saw a second bolt pierce his leg, saw him fall. Up in the gallery, half the musicians had crossbows in their hands instead of drums or lutes. She ran toward her son, until something punched in the small of the back and the hard stone floor came up to slap her. \"Robb!\" she screamed. She saw Smalljon Umber wrestle a table off its trestles. Crossbow bolts thudded into the wood, one two three, as he flung it down on top of his king. Robin Flint was ringed by Freys, their daggers rising and falling. Ser Wendel Manderly rose ponderously to his feet, holding his leg of lamb. A quarrel went in his open mouth and came out the back of his neck. Ser Wendel crashed forward, knocking the table off its trestles and sending cups, flagons, trenchers, platters, turnips, beets, and wine bouncing, spilling, and sliding across the floor."},{"from":"human","value":"Catelyn's back was on fire."},{"from":"gpt","value":"I have to reach him. The Smalljon bludgeoned Ser Raymund Frey across the face with a leg of mutton. But when he reached for his swordbelt a crossbow bolt drove him to his knees. Ina coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. She saw Lucas Blackwood cut down by Ser Hosteen Frey. One of the Vances was hamstrung by Black Walder as he was wrestling with Ser Harys Haigh. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours. The crossbows took Donnel Locke, Owen Norrey, and half a dozen more. Young Ser Benfrey had seized Dacey Mormont by the arm, but Catelyn saw her grab up a flagon of wine with her other hand, smash it full in his face, and run for the door. It flew open before she reached it. Ser Ryman Frey pushed into the hall, clad in steel from helm to heel. A dozen Frey men-at-arms packed the door behind him. They were armed with heavy longaxes.\n\n\"Mercy!\" Catelyn cried, but horns and drums and the clash of steel smothered her plea. Ser Ryman buried the head of his axe in Dacey's stomach. By then men were pouring in the other doors as well, mailed men in shaggy fur cloaks with steel in their hands. Northmen! She took them for rescue for half a heartbeat, till one of them struck the Smalljon's head off with two huge blows of his axe. Hope blew out like a candle in a storm.\n\nIn the midst of slaughter, the Lord of the Crossing sat on his carved oaken throne, watching greedily.\n\nThere was a dagger on the floor a few feet away. Perhaps it had skittered there when the Smalljon knocked the table off its trestles, or perhaps it had fallen from the hand of some dying man. Catelyn crawled toward it. Her limbs were leaden, and the taste of blood was in her mouth. I will kill Walder Frey, she told herself. Jinglebell was closer to the knife, hiding under a table, but he only cringed away as she snatched up the blade. I will kill the old man, I can do that much at least."},{"from":"human","value":"Then the tabletop that the Smalljon had flung over Robb shifted, and her son struggled to his knees."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He had an arrow in his side, a second in his leg, a third through his chest. Lord Walder raised a hand, and the music stopped, all but one drum. Catelyn heard the crash of distant battle, and closer the wild howling of a wolf. Grey Wind, she remembered too late. \"Heh,\" Lord Walder cackled at Robb, \"the King in the North arises. Seems we killed some of your men, Your Grace. Oh, but I'll make you an apology, that will mend them all again, heh.\"\n\nCatelyn grabbed a handful of Jinglebell Frey's long grey hair and dragged him out of his hiding place. \"Lord Walder!\" she shouted. \"LORD WALDER!\" The drumbeat slow and sonorous, doom boom doom. \"Enough,\" said Catelyn. \"Enough, I say. You have repaid betrayal with betrayal, let it end.\" When she pressed her dagger to Jinglebell's throat, the memory of Bran's sickroom came back to her, with the feel of steel at her own throat. The drum went boom doom boom doom boom doom. \"Please,\" she said. \"He is my son. My first son, and my last. Let him go. Let him go and I swear we will forget this... forget all you've done here. I swear it by the old gods and new, we... we will take no vengeance...\"\n\nLord Walder peered at her in mistrust. \"Only a fool would believe such blather. D'you take me fora fool, my lady?\"\n\n\"I take you fora father. Keep me fora hostage, Edmure as well if you haven't killed him. But let Robb go.\"\n\n\"No.\" Robb's voice was whisper faint. \"Mother, no...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes. Robb, getup. Getup and walkout, please, please. Save yourself... if not for me, for Jeyne.\"\n\n\"Jeyne?\" Robb grabbed the edge of the table and forced himself to stand. \"Mother,\" he said, \"Grey Wind...\"\n\n\"Go to him. Now. Robb, walkout of here.\"\n\nLord Walder snorted. \"And why would I let him do that?\"\n\nShe pressed the blade deeper into Jinglebell's throat. The lackwit rolled his eyes at her in mute appeal. Afoul stench assailed her nose, but she paid it no more mind than she did the sullen ceaseless pounding of that drum, boom doom boom doom boom doom. Ser Ryman and Black Walder were circling round her back, but Catelyn did not care. They could do as they wished with her; imprison her, rape her, kill her, it made no matter. She had lived too long, and Ned was waiting. It was Robb she feared for. \"On my honor as a Tully,\" she told Lord Walder, \"on my honor as a Stark, I will trade your boy's life for Robb's. A son fora son.\" Her hand shook so badly she was ringing Jinglebell's head.\n\nBoom, the drum sounded, boom doom boom doom. The old man's lips went in and out. The knife trembled in Catelyn's hand, slippery with sweat. \"A son fora son, heh,\" he repeated. \"But that's a grandson... and he never was much use.\"\n\nA man in dark armor and a pale pink cloak spotted with blood stepped up to Robb. \"Jaime Lannister sends his regards.\" He thrust his longsword through her son's heart, and twisted."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Robb had broken his word, but Catelyn kept hers. She tugged hard on Aegon's hair and sawed at his neck until the blade grated on bone. Blood ran hot over her fingers. His little bells were ringing, ringing, ringing, and the drum went boom doom boom.\n\nFinally someone took the knife away from her. The tears burned like vinegar as they ran down her cheeks. Ten fierce ravens were raking her face with sharp talons and tearing off strips of flesh, leaving deep furrows that ran red with blood. She could taste it on her lips.\n\nIt hurts so much, she thought. Our children, Ned, all our sweet babes. Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb... Robb... please, Ned, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting... The white tears and the red ones ran together until her face was torn and tattered, the face that Ned had loved. Catelyn Stark raised her hands and watched the blood rundown her long fingers, over her wrists, beneath the sleeves of her gown. Slow red worms crawled along her arms and under her clothes. It tickles. That made her laugh until she screamed. \"Mad,\" someone said, \"she's lost her wits,\" and someone else said, \"Make an end,\" and a hand grabbed her scalp just as she'd done with Jinglebell, and she thought, No, don't, don't cut my hair, Ned loves my hair. Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"ARYA\n\nThe feast tents were behind them now. They squished over wet clay and torn grass, out of the light and back into the gloom. Ahead loomed the castle gatehouse. She could see torches moving on the walls, their flames dancing and blowing in the wind. The light shone dully against the wet mail and helms. More torches were moving on the dark stone bridge that joined the Twins, a column of them streaming from the west bank to the east.\n\n\"The castle's not closed,\" Arya said suddenly. The sergeant had said it would be, but he was wrong. The portcullis was being drawn upward even as she watched, and the drawbridge had already been lowered to span the swollen moat. She had been afraid that Lord Frey's guardsmen would refuse to let them in. For half a heartbeat she chewed her lip, too anxious to smile.\n\nThe Hound reined up so suddenly that she almost fell off the wayn. \"Seven bloody buggering hells,\" Arya heard him curse, as their left wheel began to sink in soft mud. The wayn tilted slowly. \"Get down,\" Clegane roared at her, slamming the heel of his hand into her shoulder to knock her sideways. She landed light, the way Syrio had taught her, and bounced up at once with a face full of mud. \"Why did you do that?\" she screamed. The Hound had leapt down as well. He tore the seat off the front of the wayn and reached in for the swordbelt he'd hidden beneath it.\n\nIt was only then that she heard the riders pouring out the castle gate in a river of steel and fire, the thunder of their destriers crossing the drawbridge almost lost beneath the drumming from the castles. Men and mounts wore plate armor, and one in every ten carried a torch. The rest had axes, longaxes with spiked heads and heavy bone-crushing armor-smashing blades."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Somewhere far off she heard a wolf howling. It wasn't very loud compared to the camp noise and the music and the low ominous growl of the river running wild, but she heard it all the same. Only maybe it wasn't her ears that heard it. The sound shivered through Arya like a knife, sharp with rage and grief. More and more riders were emerging from the castle, a column four wide with no end to it, knights and squires and freeriders, torches and longaxes. And there was noise coming from behind as well.\n\nWhen Arya looked around, she saw that there were only two of the huge feast tents where once there had been three. The one in the middle had collapsed. Fora moment she did not understand what she was seeing. Then the flames went licking up from the fallen tent, and now the other two were collapsing, heavy oiled cloth settling down on the men beneath. A flight of fire arrows streaked through the air. The second tent took fire, and then the third. The screams grew so loud she could hear words through the music. Dark shapes moved in front of the flames, the steel of their armor shining orange from afar.\n\nA battle, Arya knew. It's a battle. And the riders...\n\nShe had no more time to watch the tents then. With the river overflowing its banks, the dark swirling waters at the end of the drawbridge reached as high as a horse's belly, but the riders splashed through them all the same, spurred on by the music. For once the same song was coming from both castles. I know this song, Arya realized suddenly. Tom o\" Sevens had sung it for them, that rainy night the outlaws had sheltered in the brewhouse with the brothers. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Frey riders were struggling through the mud and reeds, but some of them had seen the wayn. She watched as three riders left the main column, pounding through the shallows. Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know.\n\nClegane cut Stranger loose with a single slash of his sword and leapt onto his back. The courser knew what was wanted of him. He pricked up his ears and wheeled toward the charging destriers. Ina coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours. Arya had prayed a hundred hundred times for the Hound to die, but now... there was a rock in her hand, slimy with mud, and she didn't even remember picking it up. Who do I throw it at?\n\nShe jumped at the clash of metal as Clegane turned aside the first longaxe. While he was engaged with the first man, the second circled behind him and aimed a blow for the small of his back. Stranger was wheeling, so the Hound took only a glancing blow, enough to rip a great gash in his baggy peasant's blouse and expose the mail below. He is one against three. Arya still clutched her rock. They're sure to kill him. She thought of Mycah, the butcher's boy who had been her friend so briefly.\n\nThen she saw the third rider coming her way. Arya moved behind the wayn. Fear cuts deeper than swords. She could hear drums and warhorns and pipes, stallions trumpeting, the shriek of steel on steel, but all the sounds seemed so faraway. There was only the oncoming horseman and the longaxe in his hand. He wore a surcoat over his armor and she saw the two towers that marked him fora Frey. She did not understand. Her uncle was marrying Lord Frey's daughter, the Freys were her brother's friends. \"Don't!\" she screamed as he rode around the wayn, but he paid no mind."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When he charged Arya threw the rock, the way she'd once thrown a crabapple at Gendry. She'd gotten Gendry right between the eyes, but this time her aim was off, and the stone caromed sideways off his temple. It was enough to break his charge, but no more. She retreated, darting across the muddy ground on the balls of her feet, putting the wayn between them once more. The knight followed at a trot, only darkness behind his eyeslit. She hadn't even dented his helm. They went round once, twice, a third time. The knight cursed her. \"You can't run for-\"\n\nThe axehead caught him square in the back of the head, crashing through his helm and the skull beneath and sending him flying face first from his saddle. Behind him was the Hound, still mounted on Stranger. How did you get an axe? she almost asked, before she saw. One of the other Freys was trapped beneath his dying horse, drowning in afoot of water. The third man was sprawled on his back, unmoving. He hadn't worn a gorget, and afoot of broken sword jutted from beneath his chin.\n\n\"Get my helm,\" Clegane growled at her.\n\nIt was stuffed at the bottom of a sack of dried apples, in the back of the wayn behind the pickled pigs' feet. Arya upended the sack and tossed it to him. He snatched it one-handed from the air and lowered it over his head, and where the man had sat only a steel dog remained, snarling at the fires.\n\n\"My brother...\"\n\n\"Dead,\" he shouted back at her. \"Do you think they'd slaughter his men and leave him alive?\" He turned his head back toward the camp. \"Look. Look, damn you.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The camp had become a battlefield. No, a butcher's den. The flames from the feasting tents reached halfway up the sky. Some of the barracks tents were burning too, and half a hundred silk pavilions. Everywhere swords were singing. And now the rains weep o'er his hall, with not a soul to hear. She saw two knights ride down a running man. A wooden barrel came crashing onto one of the burning tents and burst apart, and the flames leapt twice as high. A catapult, she knew. The castle was flinging oil or pitch or something.\n\n\"Come with me.\" Sandor Clegane reached down a hand. \"We have to getaway from here, and now.\" Stranger tossed his head impatiently, his nostrils flaring at the scent of blood. The song was done. There was only one solitary drum, its slow monotonous beats echoing across the river like the pounding of some monstrous heart. The black sky wept, the river grumbled, men cursed and died. Arya had mud in her teeth and her face was wet. Rain. It's only rain. That's all it is. \"We're here,\" she shouted. Her voice sounded thin and scared, a little girl's voice. \"Robb's just in the castle, and my mother. The gate's even open.\" There were no more Freys riding out. I came so far. \"We have to go get my mother.\"\n\n\"Stupid little bitch.\" Fires glinted off the snout of his helm, and made the steel teeth shine. \"You go in there, you won't come out. Maybe Frey will let you kiss your mother's corpse.\"\n\n\"Maybe we can save her...\"\n\n\"Maybe you can. I'm not done living yet.\" He rode toward her, crowding her back toward the wayn. \"Stay or go, she-wolf. Live or die. Your-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Arya spun away from him and darted for the gate. The portcullis was coming down, but slowly. I have to run faster. The mud slowed her, though, and then the water. Run fast as a wolf. The drawbridge had begun to lift, the water running off it in a sheet, the mud falling in heavy clots. Faster. She heard loud splashing and looked back to see Stranger pounding after her, sending up gouts of water with every stride. She saw the longaxe too, still wet with blood and brains. And Arya ran. Not for her brother now, not even for her mother, but for herself. She ran faster than she had ever run before, her head down and her feet churning up the river, she ran from him as Mycah must have run.\n\nHis axe took her in the back of the head."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"TYRION\n\nThey supped alone, as they did so often.\n\n\"The pease are overcooked,\" his wife ventured once.\n\n\"No matter,\" he said. \"So is the mutton.\"\n\nIt was a jest, but Sansa took it for criticism. \"I am sorry, my lord.\"\n\n\"Why? Some cook should be sorry. Not you. The pease are not your province, Sansa.\"\n\n\"I... I am sorry that my lord husband is displeased.\"\n\n\"Any displeasure I'm feeling has naught to do with pease. I have Joffrey and my sister to displease me, and my lord father, and three hundred bloody Dornishmen.\" He had settled Prince Oberyn and his lords in a cornerfort facing the city, as far from the Tyrells as he could put them without evicting them from the Red Keep entirely. It was not nearly far enough. Already there had been a brawl in a Flea Bottom pot-shop that left one Tyrell man-at-arms dead and two of Lord Gargalen's scalded, and an ugly confrontation in the yard when Mace Tyrell's wizened little mother called Ellaria Sand'the serpent's whore.\" Every time he chanced to see Oberyn Martell the prince asked when the justice would be served. Overcooked pease were the least of Tyrion's troubles, but he saw no point in burdening his young wife with any of that. Sansa had enough griefs of her own.\n\n\"The pease suffice,\" he told her curtly. \"They are green and round, what more can one expect of pease? Here, I'll have another serving, if it please my lady.\" He beckoned, and Podrick Payne spooned so many pease onto his plate that Tyrion lost sight of his mutton. That was stupid, he told himself. Now I have to eat them all, or she'll be sorry allover again."},{"from":"human","value":"The supper ended in a strained silence, as so many of their suppers did."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Afterward, as Pod was removing the cups and platters, Sansa asked Tyrion for leave to visit the godswood.\n\n\"As you wish.\" He had become accustomed to his wife's nightly devotions. She prayed at the royal sept as well, and often lit candles to Mother, Maid, and Crone. Tyrion found all this piety excessive, if truth be told, but in her place he might want the help of the gods as well. \"I confess, I know little of the old gods,\" he said, trying to be pleasant. \"Perhaps someday you might enlighten me. I could even accompany you.\"\n\n\"No,\" Sansa said at once. \"You... you are kind to offer, but... there are no devotions, my lord. No priests or songs or candles. Only trees, and silent prayer. You would be bored.\"\n\n\"No doubt you're right.\" She knows me better than I thought. \"Though the sound of rustling leaves might be a pleasant change from some septon droning on about the seven aspects of grace.\" Tyrion waved her off. \"I won't intrude. Dress warmly, my lady, the wind is brisk out there.\" He was tempted to ask what she prayed for, but Sansa was so dutiful she might actually tell him, and he didn't think he wanted to know.\n\nHe went back to work after she left, trying to track some golden dragons through the labyrinth of Littlefinger's ledgers. Petyr Baelish had not believed in letting gold sit about and grow dusty, that was for certain, but the more Tyrion tried to make sense of his accounts the more his head hurt. It was all very well to talk of breeding dragons instead of locking them up in the treasury, but some of these ventures smelled worse than week-old fish. I wouldn't have been so quick to let Joffrey fling the Antler Men over the walls if I'd known how many of the bloody bastards had taken loans from the crown. He would have to send Bronn to find their heirs, but he feared that would prove as fruitful as trying to squeeze silver from a silverfish."},{"from":"human","value":"When the summons from his lord father arrived, it was the first time Tyrion could ever recall being pleased to see Ser Boros Blount."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He closed the ledgers gratefully, blew out the oil lamp, tied a cloak around his shoulders, and waddled across the castle to the Tower of the Hand. The wind was brisk, just as he'd warned Sansa, and there was a smell of rain in the air. Perhaps when Lord Tywin was done with him he should go to the godswood and fetch her home before she got soaked.\n\nBut all that went straight out of his head when he entered the Hand's solar to find Cersei, Ser Kevan, and Grand Maester Pycelle gathered about Lord Tywin and the king. Joffrey was almost bouncing, and Cersei was savoring a smug little smile, though Lord Tywin looked as grim as ever. I wonder if he could smile even if he wanted to. \"What's happened?\" Tyrion asked.\n\nHis father offered him a roll of parchment. Someone had flattened it, but it still wanted to curl. \"Roslin caught a fine fat trout,\" the message read. \"Her brothers gave her a pair of wolf pelts for her wedding.\" Tyrion turned it over to inspect the broken seal. The wax was silvery-grey, and pressed into it were the twin towers of House Frey. \"Does the Lord of the Crossing imagine he's being poetic? Or is this meant to confound us?\" Tyrion snorted. \"The trout would be Edmure Tully, the pelts...\"\n\n\"He's dead!\" Joffrey sounded so proud and happy you might have thought he'd skinned Robb Stark himself.\n\nFirst Greyjoy and now Stark. Tyrion thought of his child wife, praying in the godswood even now. Praying to her father's gods to bring her brother victory and keep her mother safe, no doubt. The old gods paid no more heed to prayer than the new ones, it would seem. Perhaps he should take comfort in that. \"Kings are falling like leaves this autumn,\" he said. \"It would seem our little war is winning itself.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Wars do not win themselves, Tyrion,\" Cersei said with poisonous sweetness. \"Our lord father won this war.\"\n\n\"Nothing is won so long as we have enemies in the field,\" Lord Tywin warned them.\n\n\"The river lords are no fools,\" the queen argued. \"Without the northmen they cannot hope to stand against the combined power of Highgarden, Casterly Rock, and Dorne. Surely they will choose submission rather than destruction.\"\n\n\"Most,\" agreed Lord Tywin. \"Riverrun remains, but so long as Walder Frey holds Edmure Tully hostage, the Blackfish dare not mount a threat. Jason Mallister and Tytos Blackwood will fight on for honor's sake, but the Freys can keep the Mallisters penned up at Seagard, and with the right inducement Jonos Bracken can be persuaded to change his allegiance and attack the Blackwoods. In the end they will bend the knee, yes. I mean to offer generous terms. Any castle that yields to us will be spared, save one.\"\n\n\"Harrenhal?\" said Tyrion, who knew his sire.\n\n\"The realm is best rid of these Brave Companions. I have commanded Ser Gregor to put the castle to the sword.\"\n\nGregor Clegane. It appeared as if his lord father meant to mine the Mountain for every last nugget of ore before turning him over to Dornish justice. The Brave Companions would end as heads on spikes, and Littlefinger would stroll into Harrenhal without so much as a spot of blood on those fine clothes of his. He wondered if Petyr Baelish had reached the Vale yet. If the gods are good, he ran into a storm at sea and sank. But when had the gods ever been especially good?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"They should all be put to the sword,\" Joffrey declared suddenly. \"The Mallisters and Blackwoods and Brackens... all of them. They're traitors. I want them killed, Grandfather. I won't have any generous terms.\" The king turned to Grand Maester Pycelle. \"And I want Robb Stark's head too. Write to Lord Frey and tell him. The king commands. I'm going to have it served to Sansa at my wedding feast.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" Ser Kevan said, in a shocked voice, \"the lady is now your aunt by marriage.\"\n\n\"A jest.\" Cersei smiled. \"Joff did not mean it.\"\n\n\"Yes I did,\" Joffrey insisted. \"He was a traitor, and I want his stupid head. I'm going to make Sansa kiss it.\"\n\n\"No.\" Tyrion's voice was hoarse. \"Sansa is no longer yours to torment. Understand that, monster.\"\n\nJoffrey sneered. \"You're the monster, Uncle.\"\n\n\"Am I?\" Tyrion cocked his head. \"Perhaps you should speak more softly tome, then. Monsters are dangerous beasts, and just now kings seem to be dying like flies.\"\n\n\"I could have your tongue out for saying that,\" the boy king said, reddening. \"I'm the king.\"\n\nCersei put a protective hand on her son's shoulder. \"Let the dwarf make all the threats he likes, Joff. I want my lord father and my uncle to see what he is.\"\n\nLord Tywin ignored that; it was Joffrey he addressed. \"Aerys also felt the need to remind men that he was king. And he was passing fond of ripping tongues out as well. You could ask Ser Ilyn Payne about that, though you'll get no reply.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Ser Ilyn never dared provoke Aerys the way your Imp provokes Joff,\" said Cersei. \"You heard him. \"Monster,\" he said. To the King's Grace. And he threatened him...\"\n\n\"Be quiet, Cersei. Joffrey, when your enemies defy you, you must serve them steel and fire. When they go to their knees, however, you must help them back to their feet. Elsewise no man will ever bend the knee to you. And any man who must say \"I am the king\" is no true king at all. Aerys never understood that, but you will. When I've won your war for you, we will restore the king's peace and the king's justice. The only head that need concern you is Margaery Tyrell's maidenhead.\"\n\nJoffrey had that sullen, sulky look he got. Cersei had him firmly by the shoulder, but perhaps she should have had him by the throat. The boy surprised them all. Instead of scuttling safely back under his rock, Joff drew himself up defiantly and said, \"You talk about Aerys, Grandfather, but you were scared of him.\"\n\nOh, my, hasn't this gotten interesting? Tyrion thought.\n\nLord Tywin studied his grandchild in silence, gold flecks shining in his pale green eyes. \"Joffrey, apologize to your grandfather,\" said Cersei.\n\nHe wrenched free of her. \"Why should I? Everyone knows it's true. My father won all the battles. He killed Prince Rhaegar and took the crown, while your father was hiding under Casterly Rock.\" The boy gave his grandfather a defiant look. \"A strong king acts boldly, he doesn't just talk.\"\n\n\"Thank you for that wisdom, Your Grace,\" Lord Tywin said, with a courtesy so cold it was like to freeze their ears off. \"Ser Kevan, I can seethe king is tired. Please see him safely back to his bedchamber. Pycelle, perhaps some gentle potion to help His Grace sleep restfully?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Dreamwine, my lord?\"\n\n\"I don't want any dreamwine,\" Joffrey insisted.\n\nLord Tywin would have paid more heed to a mouse squeaking in the corner. \"Dreamwine will serve. Cersei, Tyrion, remain.\"\n\nSer Kevan took Joffrey firmly by the arm and marched him out the door, where two of the Kingsguard were waiting. Grand Maester Pycelle scurried after them as fast as his shaky old legs could take him. Tyrion remained where he was.\n\n\"Father, I am sorry,\" Cersei said, when the door was shut. \"Joff has always been willful, I did warn you...\"\n\n\"There is along league's worth of difference between willful and stupid.\"A strong king acts boldly? ' Who told him that?\"\n\n\"Not me, I promise you,\" said Cersei. \"Most like it was something he heard Robert say...\"\n\n\"The part about you hiding under Casterly Rock does sound like Robert.\" Tyrion didn't want Lord Tywin forgetting that bit.\n\n\"Yes, I recall now,\" Cersei said, \"Robert often told Joff that a king must be bold.\"\n\n\"And what were you telling him, pray? I did not fight a war to seat Robert the Second on the Iron Throne. You gave me to understand the boy cared nothing for his father.\"\n\n\"Why would he? Robert ignored him. He would have beat him if I'd allowed it. That brute you made me marry once hit the boy so hard he knocked out two of his baby teeth, over some mischief with a cat. I told him I'd kill him in his sleep if he ever did it again, and he never did, but sometimes he would say things...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It appears things needed to be said.\" Lord Tywin waved two fingers at her, a brusque dismissal. \"Go.\"\n\nShe went, seething.\n\n\"Not Robert the Second,\" Tyrion said. \"Aerys the Third.\"\n\n\"The boy is thirteen. There is time yet.\" Lord Tywin paced to the window. That was unlike him; he was more upset than he wished to show. \"He requires a sharp lesson.\"\n\nTyrion had gotten his own sharp lesson at thirteen. He felt almost sorry for his nephew. On the other hand, no one deserved it more. \"Enough of Joffrey,\" he said. \"Wars are won with quills and ravens, wasn't that what you said? I must congratulate you. How long have you and Walder Frey been plotting this?\"\n\n\"I mislike that word,\" Lord Tywin said stiffly.\n\n\"And I mislike being left in the dark.\"\n\n\"There was no reason to tell you. You had no part in this.\"\n\n\"Was Cersei told?\" Tyrion demanded to know.\n\n\"No one was told, save those who had apart to play. And they were only told as much as they needed to know. You ought to know that there is no other way to keep a secret-here, especially. My object was to rid us of a dangerous enemy as cheaply as I could, not to indulge your curiosity or make your sister feel important.\" He closed the shutters, frowning. \"You have a certain cunning, Tyrion, but the plain truth is you talk too much. That loose tongue of yours will be your undoing.\"\n\n\"You should have let Joff tear it out,\" suggested Tyrion.\n\n\"You would do well not to tempt me,\" Lord Tywin said. \"I'll hear no more of this. I have been considering how best to appease Oberyn Martell and his entourage.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Oh? Is this something I'm allowed to know, or should I leave so you can discuss it with yourself?\"\n\nHis father ignored the sally. \"Prince Oberyn's presence here is unfortunate. His brother is a cautious man, a reasoned man, subtle, deliberate, even indolent to a degree. He is a man who weighs the consequences of every word and every action. But Oberyn has always been half-mad.\"\n\n\"Is it true he tried to raise Dorne for Viserys?\"\n\n\"No one speaks of it, but yes. Ravens flew and riders rode, with what secret messages I never knew. Jon Arryn sailed to Sunspear to return Prince Lewyn's bones, sat down with Prince Doran, and ended all the talk of war. But Robert never went to Dorne thereafter, and Prince Oberyn seldom left it.\"\n\n\"Well, he's here now, with half the nobility of Dorne in his tail, and he grows more impatient everyday,\" said Tyrion. \"Perhaps I should show him the brothels of King's Landing, that might distract him. A tool for every task, isn't that how it works? My tool is yours, Father. Never let it be said that House Lannister blew its trumpets and I did not respond.\"\n\nLord Tywin's mouth tightened. \"Very droll. Shall I have them sew you a suit of motley, and a little hat with bells on it?\"\n\n\"If I wear it, do I have leave to say anything I want about His Grace King Joffrey?\"\n\nLord Tywin seated himself again and said, \"I was made to suffer my father's follies. I will not suffer yours. Enough.\"\n\n\"Very well, as you ask so pleasantly. The Red Viper is not going to be pleasant, I fear... nor will he content himself with Ser Gregor's head alone.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"All the more reason not to give it to him.\"\n\n\"Not to...?\" Tyrion was shocked. \"I thought we were agreed that the woods were full of beasts.\"\n\n\"Lesser beasts.\" Lord Tywin's fingers laced together under his chin. \"Ser Gregor has served us well. No other knight in the realm inspires such terror in our enemies.\"\n\n\"Oberyn knows that Gregor was the one who...\"\n\n\"He knows nothing. He has heard tales. Stable gossip and kitchen calumnies. He has no crumb of proof. Ser Gregor is certainly not about to confess to him. I mean to keep him well away for so long as the Dornishmen are in King's Landing.\"\n\n\"And when Oberyn demands the justice he's come for?\"\n\n\"I will tell him that Ser Amory Lorch killed Elia and her children,\" Lord Tywin said calmly. \"So will you, if he asks.\"\n\n\"Ser Amory Lorch is dead,\" Tyrion said flatly.\n\n\"Precisely. Vargo Hoat had Ser Amory torn apart by a bear after the fall of Harrenhal. That ought to be sufficiently grisly to appease even Oberyn Martell.\"\n\n\"You may call that justice...\"\n\n\"It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl's body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father's bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below.\"\n\n\"Well, it's a tale, and Ser Amory's not like to deny it. What will you tell Oberyn when he asks who gave Lorch his orders?\"\n\n\"Ser Amory acted on his own in the hope of winning favor from the new king. Robert's hatred for Rhaegar was scarcely a secret.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It might serve, Tyrion had to concede, but the snake will not be happy. \"Far be it from me to question your cunning, Father, but in your place I do believe I'd have let Robert Baratheon bloody his own hands.\"\n\nLord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. \"You deserve that motley, then. We had come late to Robert's cause. It was necessary to demonstrate our loyalty. When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert's relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar's children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children.\" His father shrugged. \"I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing.\"\n\n\"Then why did the Mountain kill her?\"\n\n\"Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark's van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do.\" He closed a fist. \"Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape... even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of... two? Three? He said she'd kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow.\" His mouth twisted in distaste. \"The blood was in him.\""},{"from":"human","value":"But not in you, Father."},{"from":"gpt","value":"There is no blood in Tywin Lannister. \"Was it a soft silk pillow that slew Robb Stark?\"\n\n\"It was to bean arrow, at Edmure Tully's wedding feast. The boy was too wary in the field. He kept his men in good order, and surrounded himself with outriders and bodyguards.\"\n\n\"So Lord Walder slew him under his own roof, at his own table?\" Tyrion made a fist. \"What of Lady Catelyn?\"\n\n\"Slain as well, I'd say. A pair of wolfskins. Frey had intended to keep her captive, but perhaps something went awry.\"\n\n\"So much for guest right.\"\n\n\"The blood is on Walder Frey's hands, not mine.\"\n\n\"Walder Frey is a peevish old man who lives to fondle his young wife and brood overall the slights he's suffered. I have no doubt he hatched this ugly chicken, but he would never have dared such a thing without a promise of protection.\"\n\n\"I suppose you would have spared the boy and told Lord Frey you had no need of his allegiance? That would have driven the old fool right back into Stark's arms and won you another year of war. Explain tome why it is more noble to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner.\" When Tyrion had no reply to that, his father continued. \"The price was cheap by any measure. The crown shall grant Riverrun to Ser Emmon Frey once the Blackfish yields. Lancel and Daven must marry Frey girls, Joy is towed one of Lord Walder's natural sons when she's old enough, and Roose Bolton becomes Warden of the North and takes home Arya Stark.\"\n\n\"Arya Stark?\" Tyrion cocked his head. \"And Bolton? I might have known Frey would not have the stomach to act alone. But Arya... Varys and Ser Jacelyn searched for her for more than half a year. Arya Stark is surely dead.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So was Renly, until the Blackwater.\"\n\n\"What does that mean?\"\n\n\"Perhaps Littlefinger succeeded where you and Varys failed. Lord Bolton will wed the girl to his bastard son. We shall allow the Dreadfort to fight the ironborn fora few years, and see if he can bring Stark's other bannermen to heel. Come spring, all of them should beat the end of their strength and ready to bend the knee. The north will go to your son by Sansa Stark... if you ever find enough manhood in you to breed one. Lest you forget, it is not only Joffrey who must needs take a maidenhead.\"\n\nI had not forgotten, though I'd hoped you had. \"And when do you imagine Sansa will beat her most fertile?\" Tyrion asked his father intones that dripped acid. \"Before or after I tell her how we murdered her mother and her brother?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"DAVOS\n\nFora moment it seemed as though the king had not heard. Stannis showed no pleasure at the news, no anger, no disbelief, not even relief. He stared at his Painted Table with teeth clenched hard. \"You are certain?\" he asked.\n\n\"I am not seeing the body, no, Your Kingliness,\" said Salladhor Saan. \"Yet in the city, the lions prance and dance. The Red Wedding, the smallfolk are calling it. They swear Lord Frey had the boy's head hacked off, sewed the head of his direwolf in its place, and nailed a crown about his ears. His lady mother was slain as well, and thrown naked in the river.\"\n\nAt a wedding, thought Davos. Ashe sat at his slayer's board, a guest beneath his roof. These Freys are cursed. He could smell the burning blood again, and hear the leech hissing and spitting on the brazier's hot coals.\n\n\"It was the Lord's wrath that slew him,\" Ser Axell Florent declared. \"It was the hand of R'hllor!\"\n\n\"Praise the Lord of Light!\" sang out Queen Selyse, a pinched thin hard woman with large ears and a hairy upper lip.\n\n\"Is the hand of R'hllor spotted and palsied?\" asked Stannis. \"This sounds more Walder Frey's handiwork than any god's.\"\n\n\"R'hllor chooses such instruments as he requires.\" The ruby at Melisandre's throat shone redly. \"His ways are mysterious, but no man may withstand his fiery will.\"\n\n\"No man may withstand him!\" the queen cried.\n\n\"Be quiet, woman. You are not at a nightfire now.\" Stannis considered the Painted Table. \"The wolf leaves no heirs, the kraken too many. The lions will devour them unless... Saan, I will require your fastest ships to carry envoys to the Iron Islands and White Harbor. I shall offer pardons.\" The way he snapped his teeth showed how little he liked that word. \"Full pardons, for all those who repent of treason and swear fealty to their rightful king. They must see...\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"They will not.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Melisandre's voice was soft. \"I am sorry, Your Grace. This is not an end. More false kings will soon rise to take up the crowns of those who've died.\"\n\n\"More?\" Stannis looked as though he would gladly have throttled her. \"More usurpers? More traitors?\"\n\n\"I have seen it in the flames.\"\n\nQueen Selyse went to the king's side. \"The Lord of Light sent Melisandre to guide you to your glory. Heed her, I beg you. R'hllor's holy flames do not lie.\"\n\n\"There are lies and lies, woman. Even when these flames speak truly, they are full of tricks, it seems tome.\"\n\n\"An ant who hears the words of a king may not comprehend what he is saying,\" Melisandre said, \"and all men are ants before the fiery face of god. If sometimes I have mistaken a warning fora prophecy or a prophecy fora warning, the fault lies in the reader, not the book. But this I know fora certainty-envoys and pardons will not serve you now, no more than leeches. You must show the realm a sign. A sign that proves your power!\"\n\n\"Power?\" The king snorted. \"I have thirteen hundred men on Dragonstone, another three hundred at Storm's End.\" His hand swept over the Painted Table. \"The rest of Westeros is in the hands of my foes. I have no fleet but Salladhor Saan's. No coin to hire sellswords. No prospect of plunder or glory to lure freeriders to my cause.\"\n\n\"Lord husband,\" said Queen Selyse, \"you have more men than Aegon did three hundred years ago. All you lack are dragons.\""},{"from":"human","value":"The look Stannis gave her was dark."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Nine mages crossed the sea to hatch Aegon the Third's cache of eggs. Baelor the Blessed prayed over his for half a year. Aegon the Fourth built dragons of wood andiron. Aerion Brightflame drank wildfire to transform himself. The mages failed, King Baelor's prayers went unanswered, the wooden dragons burned, and Prince Aerion died screaming.\"\n\nQueen Selyse was adamant. \"None of these was the chosen of R'hllor. No red comet blazed across the heavens to herald their coming. None wielded Lightbringer, the red sword of heroes. And none of them paid the price. Lady Melisandre will tell you, my lord. Only death can pay for life.\"\n\n\"The boy?\" The king almost spat the words.\n\n\"The boy,\" agreed the queen.\n\n\"The boy,\" Ser Axell echoed.\n\n\"I was sick unto death of this wretched boy before he was even born,\" the king complained. \"His very name is a roaring in my ears and a dark cloud upon my soul.\"\n\n\"Give the boy tome and you need never hear his name spoken again,\" Melisandre promised.\n\nNo, but you'll hear him screaming when she burns him. Davos held his tongue. It was wiser not to speak until the king commanded it.\n\n\"Give me the boy for R'hllor,\" the red woman said, \"and the ancient prophecy shall be fulfilled. Your dragon shall awaken and spread his stony wings. The kingdom shall be yours.\"\n\nSer Axell went to one knee. \"On bended knee I beg you, sire. Wake the stone dragon and let the traitors tremble. Like Aegon you begin as Lord of Dragonstone. Like Aegon you shall conquer. Let the false and the fickle feel your flames.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Your own wife begs as well, lord husband.\" Queen Selyse went down on both knees before the king, hands clasped as if in prayer. \"Robert and Delena defiled our bed and laid a curse upon our union. This boy is the foul fruit of their fornications. Lift his shadow from my womb and I will bear you many trueborn sons, I know it.\" She threw her arms around his legs. \"He is only one boy, born of your brother's lust and my cousin's shame.\"\n\n\"He is mine own blood. Stop clutching me, woman.\" King Stannis put a hand on her shoulder, awkwardly untangling himself from her grasp. \"Perhaps Robert did curse our marriage bed. He swore tome that he never meant to shame me, that he was drunk and never knew which bedchamber he entered that night. But does it matter? The boy was not at fault, whatever the truth.\"\n\nMelisandre put her hand on the king's arm. \"The Lord of Light cherishes the innocent. There is no sacrifice more precious. From his king's blood and his untainted fire, a dragon shall be born.\"\n\nStannis did not pull away from Melisandre's touch as he had from his queen's. The red woman was all Selyse was not; young, full-bodied, and strangely beautiful, with her heart-shaped face, coppery hair, and unearthly red eyes. \"It would be a wondrous thing to see stone come to life,\" he admitted, grudging. \"And to mount a dragon... I remember the first time my father took me to court, Robert had to hold my hand. I could not have been older than four, which would have made him five or six. We agreed afterward that the king had been as noble as the dragons were fearsome.\" Stannis snorted. \"Years later, our father told us that Aerys had cut himself on the throne that morning, so his Hand had taken his place. It was Tywin Lannister who'd so impressed us.\" His fingers touched the surface of the table, tracing a path lightly across the varnished hills. \"Robert took the skulls down when he donned the crown, but he could not bear to have them destroyed. Dragon wings over Westeros... there would be such a...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Your Grace!\" Davos edged forward. \"Might I speak?\"\n\nStannis closed his mouth so hard his teeth snapped. \"My lord of the Rainwood. Why do you think I made you Hand, if not to speak?\" The king waved a hand. \"Say what you will.\"\n\nWarrior, make me brave. \"I know little of dragons and less of gods... but the queen spoke of curses. No man is as cursed as the kinslayer, in the eyes of gods and men.\"\n\n\"There are no gods save R'hllor and the Other, whose name must not bespoken.\" Melisandre's mouth made a hard red line. \"And small men curse what they cannot understand.\"\n\n\"I am a small man,\" Davos admitted, \"so tell me why you need this boy Edric Storm to wake your great stone dragon, my lady.\" He was determined to say the boy's name as often as he could.\n\n\"Only death can pay for life, my lord. A great gift requires a great sacrifice.\"\n\n\"Where is the greatness in a baseborn child?\"\n\n\"He has kings' blood in his veins. You have seen what even a little of that blood could do-\"\n\n\"I saw you burn some leeches.\"\n\n\"And two false kings are dead.\"\n\n\"Robb Stark was murdered by Lord Walder of the Crossing, and we have heard that Balon Greyjoy fell from abridge. Who did your leeches kill?\"\n\n\"Do you doubt the power of R'hllor?\"\n\nNo. Davos remembered too well the living shadow that had squirmed from out her womb that night beneath Storm's End, its black hands pressing at her thighs. I must go carefully here, or some shadow may come seeking meas well. \"Even an onion smuggler knows two onions from three. You are short a king, my lady.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Stannis gave a snort of laughter. \"He has you there, my lady. Two is not three.\"\n\n\"To be sure, Your Grace. One king might die by chance, even two... but three? If Joffrey should die in the midst of all his power, surrounded by his armies and his Kingsguard, would not that show the power of the Lord at work?\"\n\n\"It might.\" The king spoke as if he grudged each word.\n\n\"Or not.\" Davos did his best to hide his fear.\n\n\"Joffrey shall die,\" Queen Selyse declared, serene in her confidence.\n\n\"It maybe that he is dead already,\" Ser Axell added.\n\nStannis looked at them with annoyance. \"Are you trained crows, to croak at me in turns? Enough.\"\n\n\"Husband, hear me-\" the queen entreated.\n\n\"Why? Two is not three. Kings can count as well as smugglers. You may go.\" Stannis turned his back on them.\n\nMelisandre helped the queen to her feet. Selyse swept stiffly from the chamber, the red woman trailing behind. Ser Axell lingered long enough to give Davos one last look. An ugly look on an ugly face, he thought as he met the stare.\n\nAfter the others had gone, Davos cleared his throat. The king looked up. \"Why are you still here?\"\n\n\"Sire, about Edric Storm...\"\n\nStannis made a sharp gesture. \"Spare me.\"\n\nDavos persisted. \"Your daughter takes her lessons with him, and plays with him everyday in Aegon's Garden.\"\n\n\"I know that.\"\n\n\"Her heart would break if anything ill should-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I know that as well.\"\n\n\"If you would only see him-\"\n\n\"I have seen him. He looks like Robert. Aye, and worships him. Shall I tell him how often his beloved father ever gave him a thought? My brother liked the making of children well enough, but afterbirth they were a bother.\"\n\n\"He asks after you everyday, he-\"\n\n\"You are making me angry, Davos. I will hear no more of this bastard boy.\"\n\n\"His name is Edric Storm, sire.\"\n\n\"I know his name. Was there ever a name so apt? It proclaims his bastardy, his high birth, and the turmoil he brings with him. Edric Storm. There, I have said it. Are you satisfied, my lord Hand?\"\n\n\"Edric-\" he started.\n\n\"-is one boy! He maybe the best boy whoever drew breath and it would not matter. My duty is to the realm.\" His hand swept across the Painted Table. \"How many boys dwell in Westeros? How many girls? How many men, how many women? The darkness will devour them all, she says. The night that never ends. She talks of prophecies... a hero reborn in the sea, living dragons hatched from dead stone... she speaks of signs and swears they point tome. I never asked for this, no more than I asked to be king. Yet dare I disregard her?\" He ground his teeth. \"We do not choose our destinies. Yet we must... we must do our duty, no? Great or small, we must do our duty. Melisandre swears that she has seen me in her flames, facing the dark with Lightbringer raised on high. Lightbringer!\" Stannis gave a derisive snort. \"It glimmers prettily, I'll grant you, but on the Blackwater this magic sword served me no better than any common steel. A dragon would have turned that battle. Aegon once stood here as I do, looking down on this table. Do you think we would name him Aegon the Conqueror today if he had not had dragons?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Your Grace,\" said Davos, \"the cost...\"\n\n\"I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning... burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?\" The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King's Landing. \"If Joffrey should die... what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?\"\n\n\"Everything,\" said Davos, softly.\n\nStannis looked at him, jaw clenched. \"Go,\" the king said at last, \"before you talk yourself back into the dungeon.\"\n\nSometimes the storm winds blow so strong a man has no choice but to furl his sails. \"Aye, Your Grace.\" Davos bowed, but Stannis had seemingly forgotten him already.\n\nIt was chilly in the yard when he left the Stone Drum. A wind blew briskly from the east, making the banners snap and flap noisily along the walls. Davos could smell salt in the air. The sea. He loved that smell. It made him want to walk a deck again, to raise his canvas and sail off south to Marya and his two small ones. He thought of them most everyday now, and even more at night. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to take Devan and go home. I cannot. Not yet. I am a lord now, and the King's Hand, I must not fail him.\n\nHe raised his eyes to gaze up at the walls. In place of merlons, a thousand grotesques and gargoyles looked down on him, each different from all the others; wyverns, griffins, demons, manticores, minotaurs, basilisks, hellhounds, cockatrices, and a thousand queerer creatures sprouted from the castle's battlements as if they'd grown there. And the dragons were everywhere. The Great Hall was a dragon lying on its belly. Men entered through its open mouth. The kitchens were a dragon curled up in a ball, with the smoke and steam of the ovens vented through its nostrils. The towers were dragons hunched above the walls or poised for flight; the Windwyrm seemed to scream defiance, while Sea Dragon Tower gazed serenely out across the waves. Smaller dragons framed the gates. Dragon claws emerged from walls to grasp at torches, great stone wings enfolded the smith and armory, and tails formed arches, bridges, and exterior stairs."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Davos had often heard it said that the wizards of Valyria did not cut and chisel as common masons did, but worked stone with fire and magic as a potter might work clay. But now he wondered. What if they were real dragons, somehow turned to stone?\n\n\"If the red woman brings them to life, the castle will come crashing down, I am thinking. What kind of dragons are full of rooms and stairs and furniture? And windows. And chimneys. And privy shafts.\"\n\nDavos turned to find Salladhor Saan beside him. \"Does this mean you have forgiven my treachery, Salla?\"\n\nThe old pirate wagged a finger at him. \"Forgiving, yes. Forgetting, no. All that good gold on Claw Isle that might have been mine, it makes me old and tired to think of it. When I die impoverished, my wives and concubines will curse you, Onion Lord. Lord Celtigar had many fine wines that now I am not tasting, a sea eagle he had trained to fly from the wrist, and a magic horn to summon krakens from the deep. Very useful such a horn would be, to pull down Tyroshi and other vexing creatures. But do I have this horn to blow? No, because the king made my old friend his Hand.\" He slipped his arm through Davos's and said, \"The queen's men love you not, old friend. I am hearing that a certain Hand has been making friends of his own. This is true, yes?\"\n\nYou hear too much, you old pirate. A smuggler had best know men as well as tides, or he would not live to smuggle long. The queen's men might remain fervent followers of the Lord of Light, but the lesser folk of Dragonstone were drifting back to the gods they'd known all their lives. They said Stannis was ensorceled, that Melisandre had turned him away from the Seven to bow before some demon out of shadow, and... worst sin of all... that she and her god had failed him. And there were knights and lordlings who felt the same. Davos had sought them out, choosing them with the same care with which he'd once picked his crews. Ser Gerald Gower fought stoutly on the Blackwater, but afterward had been heard to say that R'hllor must be a feeble god to let his followers be chased off by a dwarf and a dead man. Ser Andrew Estermont was the king's cousin, and had served as his squire years ago. The Bastard of Nightsong had commanded the rearguard that allowed Stannis to reach the safety of Salladhor Saan's galleys, but he worshiped the Warrior with a faith as fierce as he was. King's men, not queen's men. But it would not do to boast of them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"A certain Lysene pirate once told me that a good smuggler stays out of sight,\" Davos replied carefully. \"Black sails, muffled oars, and a crew that knows how to hold their tongues.\"\n\nThe Lyseni laughed. \"A crew with no tongues is even better. Big strong mutes who cannot read or write.\" But then he grew more somber. \"But I am glad to know that someone watches your back, old friend. Will the king give the boy to the red priestess, do you think? One little dragon could end this great big war.\"\n\nOld habit made him reach for his luck, but his fingerbones no longer hung about his neck, and he found nothing. \"He will not do it,\" said Davos. \"He could not harm his own blood.\"\n\n\"Lord Renly will be glad to hear this.\"\n\n\"Renly was a traitor in arms. Edric Storm is innocent of any crime. His Grace is a just man.\"\n\nSalla shrugged. \"We shall be seeing. Or you shall. For myself, I am returning to sea. Even now, rascally smugglers maybe sailing across the Blackwater Bay, hoping to avoid paying their lord's lawful duties.\" He slapped Davos on the back. \"Take care. You with your mute friends. You are grown so very great now, yet the higher a man climbs the farther he has to fall.\"\n\nDavos reflected on those words as he climbed the steps of Sea Dragon Tower to the maester's chambers below the rookery. He did not need Salla to tell him that he had risen too high. I cannot read, I cannot write, the lords despise me, I know nothing of ruling, how can I be the King's Hand? I belong on the deck of a ship, not in a castle tower."},{"from":"human","value":"He had said as much to Maester Pylos."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You area notable captain,\" the maester replied. \"A captain rules his ship, does he not? He must navigate treacherous waters, set his sails to catch the rising wind, know when a storm is coming and how best to weather it. This is much the same.\"\n\nPylos meant it kindly, but his assurances rang hollow. \"It is not at all the same!\" Davos had protested. \"A kingdom's not a ship... and a good thing, or this kingdom would be sinking. I know wood and rope and water, yes, but how will that serve me now? Where do I find the wind to blow King Stannis to his throne?\"\n\nThe maester laughed at that. \"And there you have it, my lord. Words are wind, you know, and you've blown mine away with your good sense. His Grace knows what he has in you, I think.\"\n\n\"Onions,\" said Davos glumly. \"That is what he has in me. The King's Hand should be a highborn lord, someone wise and learned, a battle commander or a great knight...\"\n\n\"Ser Ryam Redwyne was the greatest knight of his day, and one of the worst Hands ever to serve a king. Septon Murmison's prayers worked miracles, but as Hand he soon had the whole realm praying for his death. Lord Butterwell was renowned for wit, Myles Smallwood for courage, Ser Otto Hightower for learning, yet they failed as Hands, everyone. As for birth, the dragonkings oft chose Hands from amongst their own blood, with results as various as Baelor Breakspear and Maegor the Cruel. Against this, you have Septon Barth, the blacksmith's son the Old King plucked from the Red Keep's library, who gave the realm forty years of peace and plenty.\" Pylos smiled. \"Read your history, Lord Davos, and you will see that your doubts are groundless.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Helping the author, keep the tale going.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 53\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Catelyn felt sorry for the girl. Most brides tried to return the banter, or at least pretended to enjoy it, but Roslin was stiff with terror, clutching the Greatjon as if she feared he might drop her. She's crying too, Catelyn realized as she watched Ser Marq Piper pull off one of the bride's shoes. I hope Edmure is gentle with the poor child. Jolly, bawdy music still poured down from the gallery; the queen was taking off her kirtle now, and the king his tunic.\\n\\nShe knew she should join the throng of women round her brother, but she would only ruin their fun. The last thing she felt just now was bawdy. Edmure would forgive her absence, she did not doubt; much jollier to be stripped and bedded by a score of lusty, laughing Freys than by a sour, stricken sister.\\n\\nAs man and maid were carried from the hall, a trail of clothing behind them, Catelyn saw that Robb had also remained. Walder Frey was prickly enough to see some insult to his daughter in that. He should join in Roslin's bedding, but is it my place to tell him so? She tensed, until she saw that others had stayed as well. Petyr Pimple and Ser Whalen Frey slept on, their heads on the table. Merrett Frey poured himself another cup of wine, while Jinglebell wandered about stealing bites off the plates of those who'd left. Ser Wendel Manderly was lustily attacking a leg of lamb. And of course Lord Walder was far too feeble to leave his seat without help. He will expect Robb to go, though. She could almost hear the old man asking why His Grace did not want to see his daughter naked. The drums were pounding again, pounding and pounding and pounding.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Dacey Mormont, who seemed to be the only woman left in the hall besides Catelyn, stepped up behind Edwyn Frey, and touched him lightly on the arm as she said something in his ear. Edwyn wrenched himself away from her with unseemly violence. \\\"No,\\\" he said, too loudly. \\\"I'm done with dancing for the nonce.\\\" Dacey paled and turned away. Catelyn got slowly to her feet. What just happened there? Doubt gripped her heart, where an instant before had been only weariness. It is nothing, she tried to tell herself, you are seeing grumkins in the woodpile, you are become an old silly woman sick with grief and fear. But something must have shown on her face. Even Ser Wendel Manderly took note. \\\"Is something amiss?\\\" he asked, the leg of lamb in his hands.\\n\\nShe did not answer him. Instead she went after Edwyn Frey. The players in the gallery had finally gotten both king and queen down to their name-day suits. With scarcely a moment's respite, they began to play a very different sort of song. No one sang the words, but Catelyn knew'The Rains of Castamere\\\" when she heard it. Edwyn was hurrying toward a door. She hurried faster, driven by the music. Six quick strides and she caught him. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? She grabbed Edwyn by the arm to turn him and went cold allover when she felt the iron rings beneath his silken sleeve.\\n\\nCatelyn slapped him so hard she broke his lip. Olyvar, she thought, and Perwyn, Alesander, all absent. And Roslin wept...\\n\\nEdwyn Frey shoved her aside. The music drowned all other sound, echoing off the walls as if the stones themselves were playing. Robb gave Edwyn an angry look and moved to block his way... and staggered suddenly as a quarrel sprouted from his side, just beneath the shoulder. If he screamed then, the sound was swallowed by the pipes and horns and fiddles. Catelyn saw a second bolt pierce his leg, saw him fall. Up in the gallery, half the musicians had crossbows in their hands instead of drums or lutes. She ran toward her son, until something punched in the small of the back and the hard stone floor came up to slap her. \\\"Robb!\\\" she screamed. She saw Smalljon Umber wrestle a table off its trestles. Crossbow bolts thudded into the wood, one two three, as he flung it down on top of his king. Robin Flint was ringed by Freys, their daggers rising and falling. Ser Wendel Manderly rose ponderously to his feet, holding his leg of lamb. A quarrel went in his open mouth and came out the back of his neck. Ser Wendel crashed forward, knocking the table off its trestles and sending cups, flagons, trenchers, platters, turnips, beets, and wine bouncing, spilling, and sliding across the floor.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Catelyn's back was on fire.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I have to reach him. The Smalljon bludgeoned Ser Raymund Frey across the face with a leg of mutton. But when he reached for his swordbelt a crossbow bolt drove him to his knees. Ina coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. She saw Lucas Blackwood cut down by Ser Hosteen Frey. One of the Vances was hamstrung by Black Walder as he was wrestling with Ser Harys Haigh. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours. The crossbows took Donnel Locke, Owen Norrey, and half a dozen more. Young Ser Benfrey had seized Dacey Mormont by the arm, but Catelyn saw her grab up a flagon of wine with her other hand, smash it full in his face, and run for the door. It flew open before she reached it. Ser Ryman Frey pushed into the hall, clad in steel from helm to heel. A dozen Frey men-at-arms packed the door behind him. They were armed with heavy longaxes.\\n\\n\\\"Mercy!\\\" Catelyn cried, but horns and drums and the clash of steel smothered her plea. Ser Ryman buried the head of his axe in Dacey's stomach. By then men were pouring in the other doors as well, mailed men in shaggy fur cloaks with steel in their hands. Northmen! She took them for rescue for half a heartbeat, till one of them struck the Smalljon's head off with two huge blows of his axe. Hope blew out like a candle in a storm.\\n\\nIn the midst of slaughter, the Lord of the Crossing sat on his carved oaken throne, watching greedily.\\n\\nThere was a dagger on the floor a few feet away. Perhaps it had skittered there when the Smalljon knocked the table off its trestles, or perhaps it had fallen from the hand of some dying man. Catelyn crawled toward it. Her limbs were leaden, and the taste of blood was in her mouth. I will kill Walder Frey, she told herself. Jinglebell was closer to the knife, hiding under a table, but he only cringed away as she snatched up the blade. I will kill the old man, I can do that much at least.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Then the tabletop that the Smalljon had flung over Robb shifted, and her son struggled to his knees.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He had an arrow in his side, a second in his leg, a third through his chest. Lord Walder raised a hand, and the music stopped, all but one drum. Catelyn heard the crash of distant battle, and closer the wild howling of a wolf. Grey Wind, she remembered too late. \\\"Heh,\\\" Lord Walder cackled at Robb, \\\"the King in the North arises. Seems we killed some of your men, Your Grace. Oh, but I'll make you an apology, that will mend them all again, heh.\\\"\\n\\nCatelyn grabbed a handful of Jinglebell Frey's long grey hair and dragged him out of his hiding place. \\\"Lord Walder!\\\" she shouted. \\\"LORD WALDER!\\\" The drumbeat slow and sonorous, doom boom doom. \\\"Enough,\\\" said Catelyn. \\\"Enough, I say. You have repaid betrayal with betrayal, let it end.\\\" When she pressed her dagger to Jinglebell's throat, the memory of Bran's sickroom came back to her, with the feel of steel at her own throat. The drum went boom doom boom doom boom doom. \\\"Please,\\\" she said. \\\"He is my son. My first son, and my last. Let him go. Let him go and I swear we will forget this... forget all you've done here. I swear it by the old gods and new, we... we will take no vengeance...\\\"\\n\\nLord Walder peered at her in mistrust. \\\"Only a fool would believe such blather. D'you take me fora fool, my lady?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I take you fora father. Keep me fora hostage, Edmure as well if you haven't killed him. But let Robb go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\" Robb's voice was whisper faint. \\\"Mother, no...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes. Robb, getup. Getup and walkout, please, please. Save yourself... if not for me, for Jeyne.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Jeyne?\\\" Robb grabbed the edge of the table and forced himself to stand. \\\"Mother,\\\" he said, \\\"Grey Wind...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Go to him. Now. Robb, walkout of here.\\\"\\n\\nLord Walder snorted. \\\"And why would I let him do that?\\\"\\n\\nShe pressed the blade deeper into Jinglebell's throat. The lackwit rolled his eyes at her in mute appeal. Afoul stench assailed her nose, but she paid it no more mind than she did the sullen ceaseless pounding of that drum, boom doom boom doom boom doom. Ser Ryman and Black Walder were circling round her back, but Catelyn did not care. They could do as they wished with her; imprison her, rape her, kill her, it made no matter. She had lived too long, and Ned was waiting. It was Robb she feared for. \\\"On my honor as a Tully,\\\" she told Lord Walder, \\\"on my honor as a Stark, I will trade your boy's life for Robb's. A son fora son.\\\" Her hand shook so badly she was ringing Jinglebell's head.\\n\\nBoom, the drum sounded, boom doom boom doom. The old man's lips went in and out. The knife trembled in Catelyn's hand, slippery with sweat. \\\"A son fora son, heh,\\\" he repeated. \\\"But that's a grandson... and he never was much use.\\\"\\n\\nA man in dark armor and a pale pink cloak spotted with blood stepped up to Robb. \\\"Jaime Lannister sends his regards.\\\" He thrust his longsword through her son's heart, and twisted.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Robb had broken his word, but Catelyn kept hers. She tugged hard on Aegon's hair and sawed at his neck until the blade grated on bone. Blood ran hot over her fingers. His little bells were ringing, ringing, ringing, and the drum went boom doom boom.\\n\\nFinally someone took the knife away from her. The tears burned like vinegar as they ran down her cheeks. Ten fierce ravens were raking her face with sharp talons and tearing off strips of flesh, leaving deep furrows that ran red with blood. She could taste it on her lips.\\n\\nIt hurts so much, she thought. Our children, Ned, all our sweet babes. Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb... Robb... please, Ned, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting... The white tears and the red ones ran together until her face was torn and tattered, the face that Ned had loved. Catelyn Stark raised her hands and watched the blood rundown her long fingers, over her wrists, beneath the sleeves of her gown. Slow red worms crawled along her arms and under her clothes. It tickles. That made her laugh until she screamed. \\\"Mad,\\\" someone said, \\\"she's lost her wits,\\\" and someone else said, \\\"Make an end,\\\" and a hand grabbed her scalp just as she'd done with Jinglebell, and she thought, No, don't, don't cut my hair, Ned loves my hair. Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"ARYA\\n\\nThe feast tents were behind them now. They squished over wet clay and torn grass, out of the light and back into the gloom. Ahead loomed the castle gatehouse. She could see torches moving on the walls, their flames dancing and blowing in the wind. The light shone dully against the wet mail and helms. More torches were moving on the dark stone bridge that joined the Twins, a column of them streaming from the west bank to the east.\\n\\n\\\"The castle's not closed,\\\" Arya said suddenly. The sergeant had said it would be, but he was wrong. The portcullis was being drawn upward even as she watched, and the drawbridge had already been lowered to span the swollen moat. She had been afraid that Lord Frey's guardsmen would refuse to let them in. For half a heartbeat she chewed her lip, too anxious to smile.\\n\\nThe Hound reined up so suddenly that she almost fell off the wayn. \\\"Seven bloody buggering hells,\\\" Arya heard him curse, as their left wheel began to sink in soft mud. The wayn tilted slowly. \\\"Get down,\\\" Clegane roared at her, slamming the heel of his hand into her shoulder to knock her sideways. She landed light, the way Syrio had taught her, and bounced up at once with a face full of mud. \\\"Why did you do that?\\\" she screamed. The Hound had leapt down as well. He tore the seat off the front of the wayn and reached in for the swordbelt he'd hidden beneath it.\\n\\nIt was only then that she heard the riders pouring out the castle gate in a river of steel and fire, the thunder of their destriers crossing the drawbridge almost lost beneath the drumming from the castles. Men and mounts wore plate armor, and one in every ten carried a torch. The rest had axes, longaxes with spiked heads and heavy bone-crushing armor-smashing blades.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Somewhere far off she heard a wolf howling. It wasn't very loud compared to the camp noise and the music and the low ominous growl of the river running wild, but she heard it all the same. Only maybe it wasn't her ears that heard it. The sound shivered through Arya like a knife, sharp with rage and grief. More and more riders were emerging from the castle, a column four wide with no end to it, knights and squires and freeriders, torches and longaxes. And there was noise coming from behind as well.\\n\\nWhen Arya looked around, she saw that there were only two of the huge feast tents where once there had been three. The one in the middle had collapsed. Fora moment she did not understand what she was seeing. Then the flames went licking up from the fallen tent, and now the other two were collapsing, heavy oiled cloth settling down on the men beneath. A flight of fire arrows streaked through the air. The second tent took fire, and then the third. The screams grew so loud she could hear words through the music. Dark shapes moved in front of the flames, the steel of their armor shining orange from afar.\\n\\nA battle, Arya knew. It's a battle. And the riders...\\n\\nShe had no more time to watch the tents then. With the river overflowing its banks, the dark swirling waters at the end of the drawbridge reached as high as a horse's belly, but the riders splashed through them all the same, spurred on by the music. For once the same song was coming from both castles. I know this song, Arya realized suddenly. Tom o\\\" Sevens had sung it for them, that rainy night the outlaws had sheltered in the brewhouse with the brothers. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Frey riders were struggling through the mud and reeds, but some of them had seen the wayn. She watched as three riders left the main column, pounding through the shallows. Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know.\\n\\nClegane cut Stranger loose with a single slash of his sword and leapt onto his back. The courser knew what was wanted of him. He pricked up his ears and wheeled toward the charging destriers. Ina coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours. Arya had prayed a hundred hundred times for the Hound to die, but now... there was a rock in her hand, slimy with mud, and she didn't even remember picking it up. Who do I throw it at?\\n\\nShe jumped at the clash of metal as Clegane turned aside the first longaxe. While he was engaged with the first man, the second circled behind him and aimed a blow for the small of his back. Stranger was wheeling, so the Hound took only a glancing blow, enough to rip a great gash in his baggy peasant's blouse and expose the mail below. He is one against three. Arya still clutched her rock. They're sure to kill him. She thought of Mycah, the butcher's boy who had been her friend so briefly.\\n\\nThen she saw the third rider coming her way. Arya moved behind the wayn. Fear cuts deeper than swords. She could hear drums and warhorns and pipes, stallions trumpeting, the shriek of steel on steel, but all the sounds seemed so faraway. There was only the oncoming horseman and the longaxe in his hand. He wore a surcoat over his armor and she saw the two towers that marked him fora Frey. She did not understand. Her uncle was marrying Lord Frey's daughter, the Freys were her brother's friends. \\\"Don't!\\\" she screamed as he rode around the wayn, but he paid no mind.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When he charged Arya threw the rock, the way she'd once thrown a crabapple at Gendry. She'd gotten Gendry right between the eyes, but this time her aim was off, and the stone caromed sideways off his temple. It was enough to break his charge, but no more. She retreated, darting across the muddy ground on the balls of her feet, putting the wayn between them once more. The knight followed at a trot, only darkness behind his eyeslit. She hadn't even dented his helm. They went round once, twice, a third time. The knight cursed her. \\\"You can't run for-\\\"\\n\\nThe axehead caught him square in the back of the head, crashing through his helm and the skull beneath and sending him flying face first from his saddle. Behind him was the Hound, still mounted on Stranger. How did you get an axe? she almost asked, before she saw. One of the other Freys was trapped beneath his dying horse, drowning in afoot of water. The third man was sprawled on his back, unmoving. He hadn't worn a gorget, and afoot of broken sword jutted from beneath his chin.\\n\\n\\\"Get my helm,\\\" Clegane growled at her.\\n\\nIt was stuffed at the bottom of a sack of dried apples, in the back of the wayn behind the pickled pigs' feet. Arya upended the sack and tossed it to him. He snatched it one-handed from the air and lowered it over his head, and where the man had sat only a steel dog remained, snarling at the fires.\\n\\n\\\"My brother...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Dead,\\\" he shouted back at her. \\\"Do you think they'd slaughter his men and leave him alive?\\\" He turned his head back toward the camp. \\\"Look. Look, damn you.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The camp had become a battlefield. No, a butcher's den. The flames from the feasting tents reached halfway up the sky. Some of the barracks tents were burning too, and half a hundred silk pavilions. Everywhere swords were singing. And now the rains weep o'er his hall, with not a soul to hear. She saw two knights ride down a running man. A wooden barrel came crashing onto one of the burning tents and burst apart, and the flames leapt twice as high. A catapult, she knew. The castle was flinging oil or pitch or something.\\n\\n\\\"Come with me.\\\" Sandor Clegane reached down a hand. \\\"We have to getaway from here, and now.\\\" Stranger tossed his head impatiently, his nostrils flaring at the scent of blood. The song was done. There was only one solitary drum, its slow monotonous beats echoing across the river like the pounding of some monstrous heart. The black sky wept, the river grumbled, men cursed and died. Arya had mud in her teeth and her face was wet. Rain. It's only rain. That's all it is. \\\"We're here,\\\" she shouted. Her voice sounded thin and scared, a little girl's voice. \\\"Robb's just in the castle, and my mother. The gate's even open.\\\" There were no more Freys riding out. I came so far. \\\"We have to go get my mother.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Stupid little bitch.\\\" Fires glinted off the snout of his helm, and made the steel teeth shine. \\\"You go in there, you won't come out. Maybe Frey will let you kiss your mother's corpse.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Maybe we can save her...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Maybe you can. I'm not done living yet.\\\" He rode toward her, crowding her back toward the wayn. \\\"Stay or go, she-wolf. Live or die. Your-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Arya spun away from him and darted for the gate. The portcullis was coming down, but slowly. I have to run faster. The mud slowed her, though, and then the water. Run fast as a wolf. The drawbridge had begun to lift, the water running off it in a sheet, the mud falling in heavy clots. Faster. She heard loud splashing and looked back to see Stranger pounding after her, sending up gouts of water with every stride. She saw the longaxe too, still wet with blood and brains. And Arya ran. Not for her brother now, not even for her mother, but for herself. She ran faster than she had ever run before, her head down and her feet churning up the river, she ran from him as Mycah must have run.\\n\\nHis axe took her in the back of the head.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"TYRION\\n\\nThey supped alone, as they did so often.\\n\\n\\\"The pease are overcooked,\\\" his wife ventured once.\\n\\n\\\"No matter,\\\" he said. \\\"So is the mutton.\\\"\\n\\nIt was a jest, but Sansa took it for criticism. \\\"I am sorry, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why? Some cook should be sorry. Not you. The pease are not your province, Sansa.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I... I am sorry that my lord husband is displeased.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Any displeasure I'm feeling has naught to do with pease. I have Joffrey and my sister to displease me, and my lord father, and three hundred bloody Dornishmen.\\\" He had settled Prince Oberyn and his lords in a cornerfort facing the city, as far from the Tyrells as he could put them without evicting them from the Red Keep entirely. It was not nearly far enough. Already there had been a brawl in a Flea Bottom pot-shop that left one Tyrell man-at-arms dead and two of Lord Gargalen's scalded, and an ugly confrontation in the yard when Mace Tyrell's wizened little mother called Ellaria Sand'the serpent's whore.\\\" Every time he chanced to see Oberyn Martell the prince asked when the justice would be served. Overcooked pease were the least of Tyrion's troubles, but he saw no point in burdening his young wife with any of that. Sansa had enough griefs of her own.\\n\\n\\\"The pease suffice,\\\" he told her curtly. \\\"They are green and round, what more can one expect of pease? Here, I'll have another serving, if it please my lady.\\\" He beckoned, and Podrick Payne spooned so many pease onto his plate that Tyrion lost sight of his mutton. That was stupid, he told himself. Now I have to eat them all, or she'll be sorry allover again.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The supper ended in a strained silence, as so many of their suppers did.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Afterward, as Pod was removing the cups and platters, Sansa asked Tyrion for leave to visit the godswood.\\n\\n\\\"As you wish.\\\" He had become accustomed to his wife's nightly devotions. She prayed at the royal sept as well, and often lit candles to Mother, Maid, and Crone. Tyrion found all this piety excessive, if truth be told, but in her place he might want the help of the gods as well. \\\"I confess, I know little of the old gods,\\\" he said, trying to be pleasant. \\\"Perhaps someday you might enlighten me. I could even accompany you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Sansa said at once. \\\"You... you are kind to offer, but... there are no devotions, my lord. No priests or songs or candles. Only trees, and silent prayer. You would be bored.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No doubt you're right.\\\" She knows me better than I thought. \\\"Though the sound of rustling leaves might be a pleasant change from some septon droning on about the seven aspects of grace.\\\" Tyrion waved her off. \\\"I won't intrude. Dress warmly, my lady, the wind is brisk out there.\\\" He was tempted to ask what she prayed for, but Sansa was so dutiful she might actually tell him, and he didn't think he wanted to know.\\n\\nHe went back to work after she left, trying to track some golden dragons through the labyrinth of Littlefinger's ledgers. Petyr Baelish had not believed in letting gold sit about and grow dusty, that was for certain, but the more Tyrion tried to make sense of his accounts the more his head hurt. It was all very well to talk of breeding dragons instead of locking them up in the treasury, but some of these ventures smelled worse than week-old fish. I wouldn't have been so quick to let Joffrey fling the Antler Men over the walls if I'd known how many of the bloody bastards had taken loans from the crown. He would have to send Bronn to find their heirs, but he feared that would prove as fruitful as trying to squeeze silver from a silverfish.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"When the summons from his lord father arrived, it was the first time Tyrion could ever recall being pleased to see Ser Boros Blount.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He closed the ledgers gratefully, blew out the oil lamp, tied a cloak around his shoulders, and waddled across the castle to the Tower of the Hand. The wind was brisk, just as he'd warned Sansa, and there was a smell of rain in the air. Perhaps when Lord Tywin was done with him he should go to the godswood and fetch her home before she got soaked.\\n\\nBut all that went straight out of his head when he entered the Hand's solar to find Cersei, Ser Kevan, and Grand Maester Pycelle gathered about Lord Tywin and the king. Joffrey was almost bouncing, and Cersei was savoring a smug little smile, though Lord Tywin looked as grim as ever. I wonder if he could smile even if he wanted to. \\\"What's happened?\\\" Tyrion asked.\\n\\nHis father offered him a roll of parchment. Someone had flattened it, but it still wanted to curl. \\\"Roslin caught a fine fat trout,\\\" the message read. \\\"Her brothers gave her a pair of wolf pelts for her wedding.\\\" Tyrion turned it over to inspect the broken seal. The wax was silvery-grey, and pressed into it were the twin towers of House Frey. \\\"Does the Lord of the Crossing imagine he's being poetic? Or is this meant to confound us?\\\" Tyrion snorted. \\\"The trout would be Edmure Tully, the pelts...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He's dead!\\\" Joffrey sounded so proud and happy you might have thought he'd skinned Robb Stark himself.\\n\\nFirst Greyjoy and now Stark. Tyrion thought of his child wife, praying in the godswood even now. Praying to her father's gods to bring her brother victory and keep her mother safe, no doubt. The old gods paid no more heed to prayer than the new ones, it would seem. Perhaps he should take comfort in that. \\\"Kings are falling like leaves this autumn,\\\" he said. \\\"It would seem our little war is winning itself.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Wars do not win themselves, Tyrion,\\\" Cersei said with poisonous sweetness. \\\"Our lord father won this war.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nothing is won so long as we have enemies in the field,\\\" Lord Tywin warned them.\\n\\n\\\"The river lords are no fools,\\\" the queen argued. \\\"Without the northmen they cannot hope to stand against the combined power of Highgarden, Casterly Rock, and Dorne. Surely they will choose submission rather than destruction.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Most,\\\" agreed Lord Tywin. \\\"Riverrun remains, but so long as Walder Frey holds Edmure Tully hostage, the Blackfish dare not mount a threat. Jason Mallister and Tytos Blackwood will fight on for honor's sake, but the Freys can keep the Mallisters penned up at Seagard, and with the right inducement Jonos Bracken can be persuaded to change his allegiance and attack the Blackwoods. In the end they will bend the knee, yes. I mean to offer generous terms. Any castle that yields to us will be spared, save one.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Harrenhal?\\\" said Tyrion, who knew his sire.\\n\\n\\\"The realm is best rid of these Brave Companions. I have commanded Ser Gregor to put the castle to the sword.\\\"\\n\\nGregor Clegane. It appeared as if his lord father meant to mine the Mountain for every last nugget of ore before turning him over to Dornish justice. The Brave Companions would end as heads on spikes, and Littlefinger would stroll into Harrenhal without so much as a spot of blood on those fine clothes of his. He wondered if Petyr Baelish had reached the Vale yet. If the gods are good, he ran into a storm at sea and sank. But when had the gods ever been especially good?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They should all be put to the sword,\\\" Joffrey declared suddenly. \\\"The Mallisters and Blackwoods and Brackens... all of them. They're traitors. I want them killed, Grandfather. I won't have any generous terms.\\\" The king turned to Grand Maester Pycelle. \\\"And I want Robb Stark's head too. Write to Lord Frey and tell him. The king commands. I'm going to have it served to Sansa at my wedding feast.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sire,\\\" Ser Kevan said, in a shocked voice, \\\"the lady is now your aunt by marriage.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A jest.\\\" Cersei smiled. \\\"Joff did not mean it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes I did,\\\" Joffrey insisted. \\\"He was a traitor, and I want his stupid head. I'm going to make Sansa kiss it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\" Tyrion's voice was hoarse. \\\"Sansa is no longer yours to torment. Understand that, monster.\\\"\\n\\nJoffrey sneered. \\\"You're the monster, Uncle.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Am I?\\\" Tyrion cocked his head. \\\"Perhaps you should speak more softly tome, then. Monsters are dangerous beasts, and just now kings seem to be dying like flies.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I could have your tongue out for saying that,\\\" the boy king said, reddening. \\\"I'm the king.\\\"\\n\\nCersei put a protective hand on her son's shoulder. \\\"Let the dwarf make all the threats he likes, Joff. I want my lord father and my uncle to see what he is.\\\"\\n\\nLord Tywin ignored that; it was Joffrey he addressed. \\\"Aerys also felt the need to remind men that he was king. And he was passing fond of ripping tongues out as well. You could ask Ser Ilyn Payne about that, though you'll get no reply.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Ser Ilyn never dared provoke Aerys the way your Imp provokes Joff,\\\" said Cersei. \\\"You heard him. \\\"Monster,\\\" he said. To the King's Grace. And he threatened him...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Be quiet, Cersei. Joffrey, when your enemies defy you, you must serve them steel and fire. When they go to their knees, however, you must help them back to their feet. Elsewise no man will ever bend the knee to you. And any man who must say \\\"I am the king\\\" is no true king at all. Aerys never understood that, but you will. When I've won your war for you, we will restore the king's peace and the king's justice. The only head that need concern you is Margaery Tyrell's maidenhead.\\\"\\n\\nJoffrey had that sullen, sulky look he got. Cersei had him firmly by the shoulder, but perhaps she should have had him by the throat. The boy surprised them all. Instead of scuttling safely back under his rock, Joff drew himself up defiantly and said, \\\"You talk about Aerys, Grandfather, but you were scared of him.\\\"\\n\\nOh, my, hasn't this gotten interesting? Tyrion thought.\\n\\nLord Tywin studied his grandchild in silence, gold flecks shining in his pale green eyes. \\\"Joffrey, apologize to your grandfather,\\\" said Cersei.\\n\\nHe wrenched free of her. \\\"Why should I? Everyone knows it's true. My father won all the battles. He killed Prince Rhaegar and took the crown, while your father was hiding under Casterly Rock.\\\" The boy gave his grandfather a defiant look. \\\"A strong king acts boldly, he doesn't just talk.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thank you for that wisdom, Your Grace,\\\" Lord Tywin said, with a courtesy so cold it was like to freeze their ears off. \\\"Ser Kevan, I can seethe king is tired. Please see him safely back to his bedchamber. Pycelle, perhaps some gentle potion to help His Grace sleep restfully?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Dreamwine, my lord?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't want any dreamwine,\\\" Joffrey insisted.\\n\\nLord Tywin would have paid more heed to a mouse squeaking in the corner. \\\"Dreamwine will serve. Cersei, Tyrion, remain.\\\"\\n\\nSer Kevan took Joffrey firmly by the arm and marched him out the door, where two of the Kingsguard were waiting. Grand Maester Pycelle scurried after them as fast as his shaky old legs could take him. Tyrion remained where he was.\\n\\n\\\"Father, I am sorry,\\\" Cersei said, when the door was shut. \\\"Joff has always been willful, I did warn you...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There is along league's worth of difference between willful and stupid.\\\"A strong king acts boldly? ' Who told him that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not me, I promise you,\\\" said Cersei. \\\"Most like it was something he heard Robert say...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The part about you hiding under Casterly Rock does sound like Robert.\\\" Tyrion didn't want Lord Tywin forgetting that bit.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, I recall now,\\\" Cersei said, \\\"Robert often told Joff that a king must be bold.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And what were you telling him, pray? I did not fight a war to seat Robert the Second on the Iron Throne. You gave me to understand the boy cared nothing for his father.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why would he? Robert ignored him. He would have beat him if I'd allowed it. That brute you made me marry once hit the boy so hard he knocked out two of his baby teeth, over some mischief with a cat. I told him I'd kill him in his sleep if he ever did it again, and he never did, but sometimes he would say things...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It appears things needed to be said.\\\" Lord Tywin waved two fingers at her, a brusque dismissal. \\\"Go.\\\"\\n\\nShe went, seething.\\n\\n\\\"Not Robert the Second,\\\" Tyrion said. \\\"Aerys the Third.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The boy is thirteen. There is time yet.\\\" Lord Tywin paced to the window. That was unlike him; he was more upset than he wished to show. \\\"He requires a sharp lesson.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion had gotten his own sharp lesson at thirteen. He felt almost sorry for his nephew. On the other hand, no one deserved it more. \\\"Enough of Joffrey,\\\" he said. \\\"Wars are won with quills and ravens, wasn't that what you said? I must congratulate you. How long have you and Walder Frey been plotting this?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I mislike that word,\\\" Lord Tywin said stiffly.\\n\\n\\\"And I mislike being left in the dark.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There was no reason to tell you. You had no part in this.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Was Cersei told?\\\" Tyrion demanded to know.\\n\\n\\\"No one was told, save those who had apart to play. And they were only told as much as they needed to know. You ought to know that there is no other way to keep a secret-here, especially. My object was to rid us of a dangerous enemy as cheaply as I could, not to indulge your curiosity or make your sister feel important.\\\" He closed the shutters, frowning. \\\"You have a certain cunning, Tyrion, but the plain truth is you talk too much. That loose tongue of yours will be your undoing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You should have let Joff tear it out,\\\" suggested Tyrion.\\n\\n\\\"You would do well not to tempt me,\\\" Lord Tywin said. \\\"I'll hear no more of this. I have been considering how best to appease Oberyn Martell and his entourage.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Oh? Is this something I'm allowed to know, or should I leave so you can discuss it with yourself?\\\"\\n\\nHis father ignored the sally. \\\"Prince Oberyn's presence here is unfortunate. His brother is a cautious man, a reasoned man, subtle, deliberate, even indolent to a degree. He is a man who weighs the consequences of every word and every action. But Oberyn has always been half-mad.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is it true he tried to raise Dorne for Viserys?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No one speaks of it, but yes. Ravens flew and riders rode, with what secret messages I never knew. Jon Arryn sailed to Sunspear to return Prince Lewyn's bones, sat down with Prince Doran, and ended all the talk of war. But Robert never went to Dorne thereafter, and Prince Oberyn seldom left it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, he's here now, with half the nobility of Dorne in his tail, and he grows more impatient everyday,\\\" said Tyrion. \\\"Perhaps I should show him the brothels of King's Landing, that might distract him. A tool for every task, isn't that how it works? My tool is yours, Father. Never let it be said that House Lannister blew its trumpets and I did not respond.\\\"\\n\\nLord Tywin's mouth tightened. \\\"Very droll. Shall I have them sew you a suit of motley, and a little hat with bells on it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If I wear it, do I have leave to say anything I want about His Grace King Joffrey?\\\"\\n\\nLord Tywin seated himself again and said, \\\"I was made to suffer my father's follies. I will not suffer yours. Enough.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very well, as you ask so pleasantly. The Red Viper is not going to be pleasant, I fear... nor will he content himself with Ser Gregor's head alone.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"All the more reason not to give it to him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not to...?\\\" Tyrion was shocked. \\\"I thought we were agreed that the woods were full of beasts.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lesser beasts.\\\" Lord Tywin's fingers laced together under his chin. \\\"Ser Gregor has served us well. No other knight in the realm inspires such terror in our enemies.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oberyn knows that Gregor was the one who...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He knows nothing. He has heard tales. Stable gossip and kitchen calumnies. He has no crumb of proof. Ser Gregor is certainly not about to confess to him. I mean to keep him well away for so long as the Dornishmen are in King's Landing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And when Oberyn demands the justice he's come for?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I will tell him that Ser Amory Lorch killed Elia and her children,\\\" Lord Tywin said calmly. \\\"So will you, if he asks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ser Amory Lorch is dead,\\\" Tyrion said flatly.\\n\\n\\\"Precisely. Vargo Hoat had Ser Amory torn apart by a bear after the fall of Harrenhal. That ought to be sufficiently grisly to appease even Oberyn Martell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You may call that justice...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl's body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father's bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, it's a tale, and Ser Amory's not like to deny it. What will you tell Oberyn when he asks who gave Lorch his orders?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ser Amory acted on his own in the hope of winning favor from the new king. Robert's hatred for Rhaegar was scarcely a secret.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It might serve, Tyrion had to concede, but the snake will not be happy. \\\"Far be it from me to question your cunning, Father, but in your place I do believe I'd have let Robert Baratheon bloody his own hands.\\\"\\n\\nLord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. \\\"You deserve that motley, then. We had come late to Robert's cause. It was necessary to demonstrate our loyalty. When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert's relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar's children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children.\\\" His father shrugged. \\\"I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then why did the Mountain kill her?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark's van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do.\\\" He closed a fist. \\\"Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape... even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of... two? Three? He said she'd kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow.\\\" His mouth twisted in distaste. \\\"The blood was in him.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"But not in you, Father.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There is no blood in Tywin Lannister. \\\"Was it a soft silk pillow that slew Robb Stark?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It was to bean arrow, at Edmure Tully's wedding feast. The boy was too wary in the field. He kept his men in good order, and surrounded himself with outriders and bodyguards.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So Lord Walder slew him under his own roof, at his own table?\\\" Tyrion made a fist. \\\"What of Lady Catelyn?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Slain as well, I'd say. A pair of wolfskins. Frey had intended to keep her captive, but perhaps something went awry.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So much for guest right.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The blood is on Walder Frey's hands, not mine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Walder Frey is a peevish old man who lives to fondle his young wife and brood overall the slights he's suffered. I have no doubt he hatched this ugly chicken, but he would never have dared such a thing without a promise of protection.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suppose you would have spared the boy and told Lord Frey you had no need of his allegiance? That would have driven the old fool right back into Stark's arms and won you another year of war. Explain tome why it is more noble to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner.\\\" When Tyrion had no reply to that, his father continued. \\\"The price was cheap by any measure. The crown shall grant Riverrun to Ser Emmon Frey once the Blackfish yields. Lancel and Daven must marry Frey girls, Joy is towed one of Lord Walder's natural sons when she's old enough, and Roose Bolton becomes Warden of the North and takes home Arya Stark.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Arya Stark?\\\" Tyrion cocked his head. \\\"And Bolton? I might have known Frey would not have the stomach to act alone. But Arya... Varys and Ser Jacelyn searched for her for more than half a year. Arya Stark is surely dead.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So was Renly, until the Blackwater.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What does that mean?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps Littlefinger succeeded where you and Varys failed. Lord Bolton will wed the girl to his bastard son. We shall allow the Dreadfort to fight the ironborn fora few years, and see if he can bring Stark's other bannermen to heel. Come spring, all of them should beat the end of their strength and ready to bend the knee. The north will go to your son by Sansa Stark... if you ever find enough manhood in you to breed one. Lest you forget, it is not only Joffrey who must needs take a maidenhead.\\\"\\n\\nI had not forgotten, though I'd hoped you had. \\\"And when do you imagine Sansa will beat her most fertile?\\\" Tyrion asked his father intones that dripped acid. \\\"Before or after I tell her how we murdered her mother and her brother?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"DAVOS\\n\\nFora moment it seemed as though the king had not heard. Stannis showed no pleasure at the news, no anger, no disbelief, not even relief. He stared at his Painted Table with teeth clenched hard. \\\"You are certain?\\\" he asked.\\n\\n\\\"I am not seeing the body, no, Your Kingliness,\\\" said Salladhor Saan. \\\"Yet in the city, the lions prance and dance. The Red Wedding, the smallfolk are calling it. They swear Lord Frey had the boy's head hacked off, sewed the head of his direwolf in its place, and nailed a crown about his ears. His lady mother was slain as well, and thrown naked in the river.\\\"\\n\\nAt a wedding, thought Davos. Ashe sat at his slayer's board, a guest beneath his roof. These Freys are cursed. He could smell the burning blood again, and hear the leech hissing and spitting on the brazier's hot coals.\\n\\n\\\"It was the Lord's wrath that slew him,\\\" Ser Axell Florent declared. \\\"It was the hand of R'hllor!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Praise the Lord of Light!\\\" sang out Queen Selyse, a pinched thin hard woman with large ears and a hairy upper lip.\\n\\n\\\"Is the hand of R'hllor spotted and palsied?\\\" asked Stannis. \\\"This sounds more Walder Frey's handiwork than any god's.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"R'hllor chooses such instruments as he requires.\\\" The ruby at Melisandre's throat shone redly. \\\"His ways are mysterious, but no man may withstand his fiery will.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No man may withstand him!\\\" the queen cried.\\n\\n\\\"Be quiet, woman. You are not at a nightfire now.\\\" Stannis considered the Painted Table. \\\"The wolf leaves no heirs, the kraken too many. The lions will devour them unless... Saan, I will require your fastest ships to carry envoys to the Iron Islands and White Harbor. I shall offer pardons.\\\" The way he snapped his teeth showed how little he liked that word. \\\"Full pardons, for all those who repent of treason and swear fealty to their rightful king. They must see...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They will not.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Melisandre's voice was soft. \\\"I am sorry, Your Grace. This is not an end. More false kings will soon rise to take up the crowns of those who've died.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"More?\\\" Stannis looked as though he would gladly have throttled her. \\\"More usurpers? More traitors?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have seen it in the flames.\\\"\\n\\nQueen Selyse went to the king's side. \\\"The Lord of Light sent Melisandre to guide you to your glory. Heed her, I beg you. R'hllor's holy flames do not lie.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There are lies and lies, woman. Even when these flames speak truly, they are full of tricks, it seems tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An ant who hears the words of a king may not comprehend what he is saying,\\\" Melisandre said, \\\"and all men are ants before the fiery face of god. If sometimes I have mistaken a warning fora prophecy or a prophecy fora warning, the fault lies in the reader, not the book. But this I know fora certainty-envoys and pardons will not serve you now, no more than leeches. You must show the realm a sign. A sign that proves your power!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Power?\\\" The king snorted. \\\"I have thirteen hundred men on Dragonstone, another three hundred at Storm's End.\\\" His hand swept over the Painted Table. \\\"The rest of Westeros is in the hands of my foes. I have no fleet but Salladhor Saan's. No coin to hire sellswords. No prospect of plunder or glory to lure freeriders to my cause.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lord husband,\\\" said Queen Selyse, \\\"you have more men than Aegon did three hundred years ago. All you lack are dragons.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The look Stannis gave her was dark.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Nine mages crossed the sea to hatch Aegon the Third's cache of eggs. Baelor the Blessed prayed over his for half a year. Aegon the Fourth built dragons of wood andiron. Aerion Brightflame drank wildfire to transform himself. The mages failed, King Baelor's prayers went unanswered, the wooden dragons burned, and Prince Aerion died screaming.\\\"\\n\\nQueen Selyse was adamant. \\\"None of these was the chosen of R'hllor. No red comet blazed across the heavens to herald their coming. None wielded Lightbringer, the red sword of heroes. And none of them paid the price. Lady Melisandre will tell you, my lord. Only death can pay for life.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The boy?\\\" The king almost spat the words.\\n\\n\\\"The boy,\\\" agreed the queen.\\n\\n\\\"The boy,\\\" Ser Axell echoed.\\n\\n\\\"I was sick unto death of this wretched boy before he was even born,\\\" the king complained. \\\"His very name is a roaring in my ears and a dark cloud upon my soul.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Give the boy tome and you need never hear his name spoken again,\\\" Melisandre promised.\\n\\nNo, but you'll hear him screaming when she burns him. Davos held his tongue. It was wiser not to speak until the king commanded it.\\n\\n\\\"Give me the boy for R'hllor,\\\" the red woman said, \\\"and the ancient prophecy shall be fulfilled. Your dragon shall awaken and spread his stony wings. The kingdom shall be yours.\\\"\\n\\nSer Axell went to one knee. \\\"On bended knee I beg you, sire. Wake the stone dragon and let the traitors tremble. Like Aegon you begin as Lord of Dragonstone. Like Aegon you shall conquer. Let the false and the fickle feel your flames.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your own wife begs as well, lord husband.\\\" Queen Selyse went down on both knees before the king, hands clasped as if in prayer. \\\"Robert and Delena defiled our bed and laid a curse upon our union. This boy is the foul fruit of their fornications. Lift his shadow from my womb and I will bear you many trueborn sons, I know it.\\\" She threw her arms around his legs. \\\"He is only one boy, born of your brother's lust and my cousin's shame.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is mine own blood. Stop clutching me, woman.\\\" King Stannis put a hand on her shoulder, awkwardly untangling himself from her grasp. \\\"Perhaps Robert did curse our marriage bed. He swore tome that he never meant to shame me, that he was drunk and never knew which bedchamber he entered that night. But does it matter? The boy was not at fault, whatever the truth.\\\"\\n\\nMelisandre put her hand on the king's arm. \\\"The Lord of Light cherishes the innocent. There is no sacrifice more precious. From his king's blood and his untainted fire, a dragon shall be born.\\\"\\n\\nStannis did not pull away from Melisandre's touch as he had from his queen's. The red woman was all Selyse was not; young, full-bodied, and strangely beautiful, with her heart-shaped face, coppery hair, and unearthly red eyes. \\\"It would be a wondrous thing to see stone come to life,\\\" he admitted, grudging. \\\"And to mount a dragon... I remember the first time my father took me to court, Robert had to hold my hand. I could not have been older than four, which would have made him five or six. We agreed afterward that the king had been as noble as the dragons were fearsome.\\\" Stannis snorted. \\\"Years later, our father told us that Aerys had cut himself on the throne that morning, so his Hand had taken his place. It was Tywin Lannister who'd so impressed us.\\\" His fingers touched the surface of the table, tracing a path lightly across the varnished hills. \\\"Robert took the skulls down when he donned the crown, but he could not bear to have them destroyed. Dragon wings over Westeros... there would be such a...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your Grace!\\\" Davos edged forward. \\\"Might I speak?\\\"\\n\\nStannis closed his mouth so hard his teeth snapped. \\\"My lord of the Rainwood. Why do you think I made you Hand, if not to speak?\\\" The king waved a hand. \\\"Say what you will.\\\"\\n\\nWarrior, make me brave. \\\"I know little of dragons and less of gods... but the queen spoke of curses. No man is as cursed as the kinslayer, in the eyes of gods and men.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There are no gods save R'hllor and the Other, whose name must not bespoken.\\\" Melisandre's mouth made a hard red line. \\\"And small men curse what they cannot understand.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am a small man,\\\" Davos admitted, \\\"so tell me why you need this boy Edric Storm to wake your great stone dragon, my lady.\\\" He was determined to say the boy's name as often as he could.\\n\\n\\\"Only death can pay for life, my lord. A great gift requires a great sacrifice.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where is the greatness in a baseborn child?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He has kings' blood in his veins. You have seen what even a little of that blood could do-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I saw you burn some leeches.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And two false kings are dead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Robb Stark was murdered by Lord Walder of the Crossing, and we have heard that Balon Greyjoy fell from abridge. Who did your leeches kill?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do you doubt the power of R'hllor?\\\"\\n\\nNo. Davos remembered too well the living shadow that had squirmed from out her womb that night beneath Storm's End, its black hands pressing at her thighs. I must go carefully here, or some shadow may come seeking meas well. \\\"Even an onion smuggler knows two onions from three. You are short a king, my lady.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Stannis gave a snort of laughter. \\\"He has you there, my lady. Two is not three.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To be sure, Your Grace. One king might die by chance, even two... but three? If Joffrey should die in the midst of all his power, surrounded by his armies and his Kingsguard, would not that show the power of the Lord at work?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It might.\\\" The king spoke as if he grudged each word.\\n\\n\\\"Or not.\\\" Davos did his best to hide his fear.\\n\\n\\\"Joffrey shall die,\\\" Queen Selyse declared, serene in her confidence.\\n\\n\\\"It maybe that he is dead already,\\\" Ser Axell added.\\n\\nStannis looked at them with annoyance. \\\"Are you trained crows, to croak at me in turns? Enough.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Husband, hear me-\\\" the queen entreated.\\n\\n\\\"Why? Two is not three. Kings can count as well as smugglers. You may go.\\\" Stannis turned his back on them.\\n\\nMelisandre helped the queen to her feet. Selyse swept stiffly from the chamber, the red woman trailing behind. Ser Axell lingered long enough to give Davos one last look. An ugly look on an ugly face, he thought as he met the stare.\\n\\nAfter the others had gone, Davos cleared his throat. The king looked up. \\\"Why are you still here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sire, about Edric Storm...\\\"\\n\\nStannis made a sharp gesture. \\\"Spare me.\\\"\\n\\nDavos persisted. \\\"Your daughter takes her lessons with him, and plays with him everyday in Aegon's Garden.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Her heart would break if anything ill should-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I know that as well.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If you would only see him-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have seen him. He looks like Robert. Aye, and worships him. Shall I tell him how often his beloved father ever gave him a thought? My brother liked the making of children well enough, but afterbirth they were a bother.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He asks after you everyday, he-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are making me angry, Davos. I will hear no more of this bastard boy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"His name is Edric Storm, sire.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know his name. Was there ever a name so apt? It proclaims his bastardy, his high birth, and the turmoil he brings with him. Edric Storm. There, I have said it. Are you satisfied, my lord Hand?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Edric-\\\" he started.\\n\\n\\\"-is one boy! He maybe the best boy whoever drew breath and it would not matter. My duty is to the realm.\\\" His hand swept across the Painted Table. \\\"How many boys dwell in Westeros? How many girls? How many men, how many women? The darkness will devour them all, she says. The night that never ends. She talks of prophecies... a hero reborn in the sea, living dragons hatched from dead stone... she speaks of signs and swears they point tome. I never asked for this, no more than I asked to be king. Yet dare I disregard her?\\\" He ground his teeth. \\\"We do not choose our destinies. Yet we must... we must do our duty, no? Great or small, we must do our duty. Melisandre swears that she has seen me in her flames, facing the dark with Lightbringer raised on high. Lightbringer!\\\" Stannis gave a derisive snort. \\\"It glimmers prettily, I'll grant you, but on the Blackwater this magic sword served me no better than any common steel. A dragon would have turned that battle. Aegon once stood here as I do, looking down on this table. Do you think we would name him Aegon the Conqueror today if he had not had dragons?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your Grace,\\\" said Davos, \\\"the cost...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning... burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?\\\" The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King's Landing. \\\"If Joffrey should die... what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Everything,\\\" said Davos, softly.\\n\\nStannis looked at him, jaw clenched. \\\"Go,\\\" the king said at last, \\\"before you talk yourself back into the dungeon.\\\"\\n\\nSometimes the storm winds blow so strong a man has no choice but to furl his sails. \\\"Aye, Your Grace.\\\" Davos bowed, but Stannis had seemingly forgotten him already.\\n\\nIt was chilly in the yard when he left the Stone Drum. A wind blew briskly from the east, making the banners snap and flap noisily along the walls. Davos could smell salt in the air. The sea. He loved that smell. It made him want to walk a deck again, to raise his canvas and sail off south to Marya and his two small ones. He thought of them most everyday now, and even more at night. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to take Devan and go home. I cannot. Not yet. I am a lord now, and the King's Hand, I must not fail him.\\n\\nHe raised his eyes to gaze up at the walls. In place of merlons, a thousand grotesques and gargoyles looked down on him, each different from all the others; wyverns, griffins, demons, manticores, minotaurs, basilisks, hellhounds, cockatrices, and a thousand queerer creatures sprouted from the castle's battlements as if they'd grown there. And the dragons were everywhere. The Great Hall was a dragon lying on its belly. Men entered through its open mouth. The kitchens were a dragon curled up in a ball, with the smoke and steam of the ovens vented through its nostrils. The towers were dragons hunched above the walls or poised for flight; the Windwyrm seemed to scream defiance, while Sea Dragon Tower gazed serenely out across the waves. Smaller dragons framed the gates. Dragon claws emerged from walls to grasp at torches, great stone wings enfolded the smith and armory, and tails formed arches, bridges, and exterior stairs.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Davos had often heard it said that the wizards of Valyria did not cut and chisel as common masons did, but worked stone with fire and magic as a potter might work clay. But now he wondered. What if they were real dragons, somehow turned to stone?\\n\\n\\\"If the red woman brings them to life, the castle will come crashing down, I am thinking. What kind of dragons are full of rooms and stairs and furniture? And windows. And chimneys. And privy shafts.\\\"\\n\\nDavos turned to find Salladhor Saan beside him. \\\"Does this mean you have forgiven my treachery, Salla?\\\"\\n\\nThe old pirate wagged a finger at him. \\\"Forgiving, yes. Forgetting, no. All that good gold on Claw Isle that might have been mine, it makes me old and tired to think of it. When I die impoverished, my wives and concubines will curse you, Onion Lord. Lord Celtigar had many fine wines that now I am not tasting, a sea eagle he had trained to fly from the wrist, and a magic horn to summon krakens from the deep. Very useful such a horn would be, to pull down Tyroshi and other vexing creatures. But do I have this horn to blow? No, because the king made my old friend his Hand.\\\" He slipped his arm through Davos's and said, \\\"The queen's men love you not, old friend. I am hearing that a certain Hand has been making friends of his own. This is true, yes?\\\"\\n\\nYou hear too much, you old pirate. A smuggler had best know men as well as tides, or he would not live to smuggle long. The queen's men might remain fervent followers of the Lord of Light, but the lesser folk of Dragonstone were drifting back to the gods they'd known all their lives. They said Stannis was ensorceled, that Melisandre had turned him away from the Seven to bow before some demon out of shadow, and... worst sin of all... that she and her god had failed him. And there were knights and lordlings who felt the same. Davos had sought them out, choosing them with the same care with which he'd once picked his crews. Ser Gerald Gower fought stoutly on the Blackwater, but afterward had been heard to say that R'hllor must be a feeble god to let his followers be chased off by a dwarf and a dead man. Ser Andrew Estermont was the king's cousin, and had served as his squire years ago. The Bastard of Nightsong had commanded the rearguard that allowed Stannis to reach the safety of Salladhor Saan's galleys, but he worshiped the Warrior with a faith as fierce as he was. King's men, not queen's men. But it would not do to boast of them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"A certain Lysene pirate once told me that a good smuggler stays out of sight,\\\" Davos replied carefully. \\\"Black sails, muffled oars, and a crew that knows how to hold their tongues.\\\"\\n\\nThe Lyseni laughed. \\\"A crew with no tongues is even better. Big strong mutes who cannot read or write.\\\" But then he grew more somber. \\\"But I am glad to know that someone watches your back, old friend. Will the king give the boy to the red priestess, do you think? One little dragon could end this great big war.\\\"\\n\\nOld habit made him reach for his luck, but his fingerbones no longer hung about his neck, and he found nothing. \\\"He will not do it,\\\" said Davos. \\\"He could not harm his own blood.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lord Renly will be glad to hear this.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Renly was a traitor in arms. Edric Storm is innocent of any crime. His Grace is a just man.\\\"\\n\\nSalla shrugged. \\\"We shall be seeing. Or you shall. For myself, I am returning to sea. Even now, rascally smugglers maybe sailing across the Blackwater Bay, hoping to avoid paying their lord's lawful duties.\\\" He slapped Davos on the back. \\\"Take care. You with your mute friends. You are grown so very great now, yet the higher a man climbs the farther he has to fall.\\\"\\n\\nDavos reflected on those words as he climbed the steps of Sea Dragon Tower to the maester's chambers below the rookery. He did not need Salla to tell him that he had risen too high. I cannot read, I cannot write, the lords despise me, I know nothing of ruling, how can I be the King's Hand? I belong on the deck of a ship, not in a castle tower.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He had said as much to Maester Pylos.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You area notable captain,\\\" the maester replied. \\\"A captain rules his ship, does he not? He must navigate treacherous waters, set his sails to catch the rising wind, know when a storm is coming and how best to weather it. This is much the same.\\\"\\n\\nPylos meant it kindly, but his assurances rang hollow. \\\"It is not at all the same!\\\" Davos had protested. \\\"A kingdom's not a ship... and a good thing, or this kingdom would be sinking. I know wood and rope and water, yes, but how will that serve me now? Where do I find the wind to blow King Stannis to his throne?\\\"\\n\\nThe maester laughed at that. \\\"And there you have it, my lord. Words are wind, you know, and you've blown mine away with your good sense. His Grace knows what he has in you, I think.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Onions,\\\" said Davos glumly. \\\"That is what he has in me. The King's Hand should be a highborn lord, someone wise and learned, a battle commander or a great knight...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ser Ryam Redwyne was the greatest knight of his day, and one of the worst Hands ever to serve a king. Septon Murmison's prayers worked miracles, but as Hand he soon had the whole realm praying for his death. Lord Butterwell was renowned for wit, Myles Smallwood for courage, Ser Otto Hightower for learning, yet they failed as Hands, everyone. As for birth, the dragonkings oft chose Hands from amongst their own blood, with results as various as Baelor Breakspear and Maegor the Cruel. Against this, you have Septon Barth, the blacksmith's son the Old King plucked from the Red Keep's library, who gave the realm forty years of peace and plenty.\\\" Pylos smiled. \\\"Read your history, Lord Davos, and you will see that your doubts are groundless.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2280,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Extend the plot as the writer's co-author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 56"},{"from":"human","value":"He had said as much to Maester Pylos."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You area notable captain,\" the maester replied. \"A captain rules his ship, does he not? He must navigate treacherous waters, set his sails to catch the rising wind, know when a storm is coming and how best to weather it. This is much the same.\"\n\nPylos meant it kindly, but his assurances rang hollow. \"It is not at all the same!\" Davos had protested. \"A kingdom's not a ship... and a good thing, or this kingdom would be sinking. I know wood and rope and water, yes, but how will that serve me now? Where do I find the wind to blow King Stannis to his throne?\"\n\nThe maester laughed at that. \"And there you have it, my lord. Words are wind, you know, and you've blown mine away with your good sense. His Grace knows what he has in you, I think.\"\n\n\"Onions,\" said Davos glumly. \"That is what he has in me. The King's Hand should be a highborn lord, someone wise and learned, a battle commander or a great knight...\"\n\n\"Ser Ryam Redwyne was the greatest knight of his day, and one of the worst Hands ever to serve a king. Septon Murmison's prayers worked miracles, but as Hand he soon had the whole realm praying for his death. Lord Butterwell was renowned for wit, Myles Smallwood for courage, Ser Otto Hightower for learning, yet they failed as Hands, everyone. As for birth, the dragonkings oft chose Hands from amongst their own blood, with results as various as Baelor Breakspear and Maegor the Cruel. Against this, you have Septon Barth, the blacksmith's son the Old King plucked from the Red Keep's library, who gave the realm forty years of peace and plenty.\" Pylos smiled. \"Read your history, Lord Davos, and you will see that your doubts are groundless.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"How can I read history, when I cannot read?\"\n\n\"Any man can read, my lord,\" said Maester Pylos. \"There is no magic needed, nor high birth. I am teaching the art to your son, at the king's command. Let me teach you as well.\"\n\nIt was a kindly offer, and not one that Davos could refuse. And so everyday he repaired to the maester's chambers high atop Sea Dragon Tower, to frown over scrolls and parchments and great leather tomes and try to puzzle out a few more words. His efforts often gave him headaches, and made him feel as big a fool as Patchface besides. His son Devan was not yet twelve, yet he was well ahead of his father, and for Princess Shireen and Edric Storm reading seemed as natural as breathing. When it came to books, Davos was more a child than any of them. Yet he persisted. He was the King's Hand now, and a King's Hand should read.\n\nThe narrow twisting steps of Sea Dragon Tower had been a sore trial to Maester Cressen after he broke his hip. Davos still found himself missing the old man. He thought Stannis must as well. Pylos seemed clever and diligent and well-meaning, but he was so young, and the king did not confide in him as he had in Cressen. The old man had been with Stannis so long... Until he ran afoul of Melisandre, and died for it.\n\nAt the top of the steps Davos heard a soft jingle of bells that could only herald Patchface. The princess's fool was waiting outside the maester's door for her like a faithful hound. Dough-soft and slump-shouldered, his broad face tattooed in a motley pattern of red and green squares, Patchface wore a helm made of a rack of deer antlers strapped to a tin bucket. A dozen bells hung from the tines and rang when he moved... which meant constantly, since the fool seldom stood still. He jingled and jangled his way everywhere he went; small wonder that Pylos had exiled him from Shireen's lessons. \"Under the sea the old fish eat the young fish,\" the fool muttered at Davos. He bobbed his head, and his bells clanged and chimed and sang. \"I know, I know, oh oh oh.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Up here the young fish teach the old fish,\" said Davos, who never felt so ancient as when he sat down to try and read. It might have been different if aged Master Cressen had been the one teaching him, but Pylos was young enough to be his son.\n\nHe found the maester seated at his long wooden table covered with books and scrolls, across from the three children. Princess Shireen sat between the two boys. Even now Davos could take great pleasure in the sight of his own blood keeping company with a princess and a king's bastard. Devan will be a lord now, not merely a knight. The Lord of the Rainwood. Davos took more pride in that than in wearing the title himself. He reads too. He reads and he writes, as if he had been born to it. Pylos had naught but praise for his diligence, and the master-at-arms said Devan was showing promise with sword and lance as well. And he is a godly lad, too. \"My brothers have ascended to the Hall of Light, to sit beside the Lord,\" Devan had said when his father told him how his four elder brothers had died. \"I will pray for them at the nightfires, and for you as well, Father, so you might walk in the Light of the Lord till the end of your days.\"\n\n\"Good morrow to you, Father,\" the boy greeted him. He looks so much like Dale did at his age, Davos thought. His eldest had never dressed so fine as Devan in his squire's raiment, to be sure, but they shared the same square plain face, the same forthright brown eyes, the same thin brown flyaway hair. Devan's cheeks and chin were dusted with blond hair, a fuzz that would have shamed a proper peach, though the boy was fiercely proud of his'beard.\" Just as Dale was proud of his, once. Devan was the oldest of the three children at the table."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Yet Edric Storm was three inches taller and broader in the chest and shoulders. He was his father's son in that; nor did he ever miss a morning's work with sword and shield. Those old enough to have known Robert and Renly as children said that the bastard boy had more of their look than Stannis had ever shared; the coal-black hair, the deep blue eyes, the mouth, the jaw, the cheekbones. Only his ears reminded you that his mother had been a Florent.\n\n\"Yes, good morrow, my lord,\" Edric echoed. The boy could be fierce and proud, but the maesters and castellans and masters-at-arms who'd raised him had schooled him well in courtesy. \"Do you come from my uncle? How fares His Grace?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Davos lied. If truth be told, the king had a haggard, haunted look about him, but he saw no need to burden the boy with his fears. \"I hope I have not disturbed your lesson.\"\n\n\"We had just finished, my lord,\" Maester Pylos said.\n\n\"We were reading about King Daeron the First.\" Princess Shireen was a sad, sweet, gentle child, far from pretty. Stannis had given her his square jaw and Selyse her Florent ears, and the gods in their cruel wisdom had seen fit to compound her homeliness by afflicting her with greyscale in the cradle. The disease had left one cheek and half her neck grey and cracked and hard, though it had spared both her life and her sight. \"He went to war and conquered Dorne. The Young Dragon, they called him.\"\n\n\"He worshiped false gods,\" said Devan, \"but he was a great king otherwise, and very brave in battle.\"\n\n\"He was,\" agreed Edric Storm, \"but my father was braver. The Young Dragon never won three battles in a day.\""},{"from":"human","value":"The princess looked at him wide-eyed."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Did Uncle Robert win three battles in a day?\"\n\nThe bastard nodded. \"It was when he'd first come home to call his banners. Lords Grandison, Cafferen, and Fell planned to join their strength at Summerhall and march on Storm's End, but he learned their plans from an informer and rode at once with all his knights and squires. As the plotters came upon Summerhall one by one, he defeated each of them in turn before they could join up with the others. He slew Lord Fell in single combat and captured his son Silveraxe.\"\n\nDevan looked to Pylos. \"Is that how it happened?\"\n\n\"I said so, didn't I?\" Edric Storm said before the maester could reply. \"He smashed all three of them, and fought so bravely that Lord Grandison and Lord Cafferen became his men afterward, and Silveraxe too. No one ever beat my father.\"\n\n\"Edric, you ought not boast,\" Maester Pylos said. \"King Robert suffered defeats like any other man. Lord Tyrell bested him at Ashford, and he lost many a tourney tilt as well.\"\n\n\"He won more than he lost, though. And he killed Prince Rhaegar on the Trident.\"\n\n\"That he did,\" the maester agreed. \"But now I must give my attention to Lord Davos, who has waited so patiently. We will read more of King Daeron's Conquest of Dorne on the morrow.\"\n\nPrincess Shireen and the boys said their farewells courteously. When they had taken their leaves, Maester Pylos moved closer to Davos. \"My lord, perhaps you would like to try a bit of Conquest of Dorne as well?\" He slid the slender leather-bound book across the table. \"King Daeron wrote with an elegant simplicity, and his history is rich with blood, battle, and bravery. Your son is quite engrossed.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"My son is not quite twelve. I am the King's Hand. Give me another letter, if you would.\"\n\n\"As you wish, my lord.\" Maester Pylos rummaged about his table, unrolling and then discarding various scraps of parchment. \"There are no new letters. Perhaps an old one...\"\n\nDavos enjoyed a good story as well as any man, but Stannis had not named him Hand for his enjoyment, he felt. His first duty was to help his king rule, and for that he must needs understand the words the ravens brought. The best way to learn a thing was to do it, he had found; sails or scrolls, it made no matter.\n\n\"This might serve our purpose.\" Pylos passed him a letter.\n\nDavos flattened down the little square of crinkled parchment and squinted at the tiny crabbed letters. Reading was hard on the eyes, that much he had learned early. Sometimes he wondered if the Citadel offered a champion's purse to the maester who wrote the smallest hand. Pylos had laughed at the notion, but...\n\n\"To the... five kings,\" read Davos, hesitating briefly over five, which he did not often see written out. \"The king... be... the king... beware?\"\n\n\"Beyond,\" the maester corrected.\n\nDavos grimaced. \"The King beyond the Wall comes... comes south. He leads a... a... fast...\"\n\n\"Vast.\"\n\n\"... avast host of wil... wild... wildlings. Lord M... Mmmor... Mormont sent a... raven from the... ha... ha...\"\n\n\"Haunted. The haunted forest.\" Pylos underlined the words with the point of his finger."},{"from":"human","value":"\"..."},{"from":"gpt","value":"the haunted forest. He is... under a... attack?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nPleased, he plowed onward. \"Oth... other birds have come since, with no words. We... fear... Mormont slain with all... with all his... stench... no, strength. We fear Mormont slain with all his strength...\" Davos suddenly realized just what he was reading. He turned the letter over, and saw that the wax that had sealed it had been black. \"This is from the Night's Watch. Maester, has King Stannis seen this letter?\"\n\n\"I brought it to Lord Alester when it first arrived. He was the Hand then. I believed he discussed it with the queen. When I asked him if he wished to send a reply, he told me not to be a fool. \"His Grace lacks the men to fight his own battles, he has none to waste on wildlings,\" he said tome.\"\n\nThat was true enough. And this talk of five kings would certainly have angered Stannis. \"Only a starving man begs bread from a beggar,\" he muttered.\n\n\"Pardon, my lord?\"\n\n\"Something my wife said once.\" Davos drummed his shortened fingers against the tabletop. The first time he had seen the Wall he had been younger than Devan, serving aboard the Cobblecat under Roro Uhoris, a Tyroshi known up and down the narrow sea as the Blind Bastard, though he was neither blind nor baseborn. Roro had sailed past Skagos into the Shivering Sea, visiting a hundred little coves that had never seen a trading ship before. He brought steel; swords, axes, helms, good chainmail hauberks, to trade for furs, ivory, amber, and obsidian. When the Cobblecat turned back south her holds were stuffed, but in the Bay of Seals three black galleys came out to herd her into Eastwatch. They lost their cargo and the Bastard lost his head, for the crime of trading weapons to the wildlings."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Davos had traded at Eastwatch in his smuggling days. The black brothers made hard enemies but good customers, fora ship with the right cargo. But while he might have taken their coin, he had never forgotten how the Blind Bastard's head had rolled across the Cobblecat's deck. \"I met some wildlings when I was a boy,\" he told Maester Pylos. \"They were fair thieves but bad hagglers. One made off with our cabin girl. All in all, they seemed men like any other men, some fair, some foul.\"\n\n\"Men are men,\" Maester Pylos agreed. \"Shall we return to our reading, my lord Hand?\"\n\nI am the Hand of the King, yes. Stannis might be the King of Westeros in name, but in truth he was the King of the Painted Table. He held Dragonstone and Storm's End, and had an ever-more-uneasy alliance with Salladhor Saan, but that was all. How could the Watch have looked to him for help? They may not know how weak he is, how lost his cause. \"King Stannis never saw this letter, you are quite certain? Nor Melisandre?\"\n\n\"No. Should I bring it to them? Even now?\"\n\n\"No,\" Davos said at once. \"You did your duty when you brought it to Lord Alester.\" If Melisandre knew of this letter... What was it she had said? One whose name may not bespoken is marshaling his power, Davos Seaworth. Soon comes the cold, and the night that never ends... And Stannis had seen a vision in the flames, a ring of torches in the snow with terror all around.\n\n\"My lord, are you unwell?\" asked Pylos."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I am frightened, Maester, he might have said. Davos was remembering a tale Salladhor Saan had told him, of how Azor Ahai tempered Lightbringer by thrusting it through the heart of the wife he loved. He slew his wife to fight the dark. If Stannis is Azor Ahai come again, does that mean Edric Storm must play the part of Nissa Nissa? \"I was thinking, Maester. My pardons.\" What harm if some wildling king conquers the north? It was not as though Stannis held the north. His Grace could scarcely be expected to defend people who refused to acknowledge him asking. \"Give me another letter,\" he said abruptly. \"This one is too...\"\n\n\"... difficult?\" suggested Pylos.\n\nSoon comes the cold, whispered Melisandre, and the night that never ends. \"Troubling,\" said Davos. \"Too... troubling. A different letter, please.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"JON\n\nThey woke to the smoke of Mole's Town burning.\n\nAtop the King's Tower, Jon Snow leaned on the padded crutch that Maester Aemon had given him and watched the grey plume rise. Styr had lost all hope of taking Castle Black unawares when Jon escaped him, yet even so, he need not have warned of his approach so bluntly. You may kill us, he reflected, but no one will be butchered in their beds. That much I did, at least.\n\nHis leg still hurt like blazes when he put his weight on it. He'd needed Clydas to help him don his fresh-washed blacks and lace up his boots that morning, and by the time they were done he'd wanted to drown himself in the milk of the poppy. Instead he had settled for half a cup of dreamwine, a chew of willow bark, and the crutch. The beacon was burning on Weatherback Ridge, and the Night's Watch had need of every man.\n\n\"I can fight,\" he insisted when they tried to stop him.\n\n\"Your leg's healed, is it?\" Noye snorted. \"You won't mind me giving it a little kick, then?\"\n\n\"I'd sooner you didn't. It's stiff, but I can hobble around well enough, and stand and fight if you have need of me.\"\n\n\"I have need of every man who knows which end of the spear to stab into the wildlings.\"\n\n\"The pointy end.\" Jon had told his little sister something like that once, he remembered.\n\nNoye rubbed the bristle on his chin. \"Might be you'll do. We'll put you on a tower with a longbow, but if you bloody well falloff don't come crying tome.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He could seethe kingsroad wending its way south through stony brown fields and over windswept hills. The Magnar would becoming up that road before the day was done, his Thenns marching behind him with axes and spears in their hands and their bronze-and-leather shields on their backs. Grigg the Goat, Quort, Big Boil, and the rest will becoming as well. And Ygritte. The wildlings had never been his friends, he had not allowed them to be his friends, but her...\n\nHe could feel the throb of pain where her arrow had gone through the meat and muscle of his thigh. He remembered the old man's eyes too, and the black blood rushing from his throat as the storm cracked overhead. But he remembered the grotto best of all, the look of her naked in the torchlight, the taste of her mouth when it opened under his. Ygritte, stay away. Go south and raid, go hide in one of those roundtowers you liked so well. You'll find nothing here but death.\n\nAcross the yard, one of the bowmen on the roof of the old Flint Barracks had unlaced his breeches and was pissing through a crenel. Mully, he knew from the man's greasy orange hair. Men in black cloaks were visible on other roofs and tower tops as well, though nine of every ten happened to be made of straw. \"The scarecrow sentinels,\" Donal Noye called them. Only we're the crows, Jon mused, and most of us were scared enough.\n\nWhatever you called them, the straw soldiers had been Maester Aemon's notion. They had more breeches and jerkins and tunics in the storerooms than they'd had men to fill them, so why not stuff some with straw, drape a cloak around their shoulders, and set them to standing watches? Noye had placed them on every tower and in half the windows. Some were even clutching spears, or had crossbows cocked under their arms. The hope was that the Thenns would see them from afar and decide that Castle Black was too well defended to attack."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jon had six scarecrows sharing the roof of the King's Tower with him, along with two actual breathing brothers. Deaf Dick Follard satin a crenel, methodically cleaning and oiling the mechanism of his crossbow to make sure the wheel turned smoothly, while the Oldtown boy wandered restlessly around the parapets, fussing with the clothes on straw men. Maybe he thinks they will fight better if they're posed just right. Or maybe this waiting is fraying his nerves the way it's fraying mine.\n\nThe boy claimed to be eighteen, older than Jon, but he was green as summer grass for all that. Satin, they called him, even in the wool and mail and boiled leather of the Night's Watch; the name he'd gotten in the brothel where he'd been born and raised. He was pretty as a girl with his dark eyes, soft skin, and raven's ringlets. Half a year at Castle Black had toughened up his hands, however, and Noye said he was passable with a crossbow. Whether he had the courage to face what was coming, though...\n\nJon used the crutch to limp across the tower top. The King's Tower was not the castle's tallest-the high, slim, crumbling Lance held that honor, though Othell Yarwyck had been heard to say it might topple any day. Nor was the King's Tower strongest-the Tower of Guards beside the kingsroad would be a tougher nut to crack. But it was tall enough, strong enough, and well placed beside the Wall, overlooking the gate and the foot of the wooden stair.\n\nThe first time he had seen Castle Black with his own eyes, Jon had wondered why anyone would be so foolish as to build a castle without walls. How could it be defended?\n\n\"It can't,\" his uncle told him. \"That is the point. The Night's Watch is pledged to take no part in the quarrels of the realm. Yet over the centuries certain Lords Commander, more proud than wise, forgot their vows and near destroyed us all with their ambitions. Lord Commander Runcel Hightower tried to bequeathe the Watch to his bastard son. Lord Commander Rodrik Flint thought to make himself King-beyond-the-Wall. Tristan Mudd, Mad Marq Rankenfell, Robin Hill... did you know that six hundred years ago, the commanders at Snowgate and the Nightfort went to war against each other? And when the Lord Commander tried to stop them, they joined forces to murder him? The Stark in Winterfell had to take a hand... and both their heads. Which he did easily, because their strongholds were not defensible. The Night's Watch had nine hundred and ninety-six Lords Commander before Jeor Mormont, most of them men of courage and honor... but we have had cowards and fools as well, our tyrants and our madmen. We survive because the lords and kings of the Seven Kingdoms know that we pose no threat to them, no matter who should lead us. Our only foes are to the north, and to the north we have the Wall.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Only now those foes have gotten past the Wall to come up from the south, Jon reflected, and the lords and kings of the Seven Kingdoms have forgotten us. We are caught between the hammer and the anvil. Without a wall Castle Black could not beheld; Donal Noye knew that as well as any. \"The castle does them no good,\" the armorer told his little garrison. \"Kitchens, common hall, stables, even the towers... let them take it all. We'll empty the armory and move what stores we canto the top of the Wall, and make our stand around the gate.\"\n\nSo Castle Black had a wall of sorts at last, a crescent-shaped barricade ten feet high made of stores; casks of nails and barrels of salt mutton, crates, bales of black broadcloth, stacked logs, sawn timbers, fire-hardened stakes, and sacks and sacks of grain. The crude rampart enclosed the two things most worth defending; the gate to the north, and the foot of the great wooden switchback stair that clawed and climbed its way up the face of the Wall like a drunken thunderbolt, supported by wooden beams as big as tree trunks driven deep into the ice.\n\nThe last few moles were still making the long climb, Jon saw, urged on by his brothers. Grenn was carrying a little boy in his arms, while Pyp, two flights below, let an old man lean upon his shoulder. The oldest villagers still waited below for the cage to make its way back down to them. He saw a mother pulling along two children, one on either hand, as an older boy ran past her up the steps. Two hundred feet above them, Sky Blue Su and Lady Meliana (who was no lady, all her friends agreed) stood on a landing, looking south. They had a better view of the smoke than he did, no doubt. Jon wondered about the villagers who had chosen not to flee. There were always a few, too stubborn or too stupid or too brave to run, a few who preferred to fight or hide or bend the knee. Maybe the Thenns would spare them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The thing to do would be to take the attack to them, he thought. With fifty rangers well mounted, we could cut them apart on the road. They did not have fifty rangers, though, nor half as many horses. The garrison had not returned, and there was noway to know just where they were, or even whether the riders that Noye had sent out had reached them.\n\nWe are the garrison, Jon told himself, and look at us. The brothers Bowen Marsh had left behind were old men, cripples, and green boys, just as Donal Noye had warned him. He could see some wrestling barrels up the steps, others on the barricade; stout old Kegs, as slow as ever, Spare Boot hopping along briskly on his carved wooden leg, half-mad Easy who fancied himself Florian the Fool reborn, Dornish Dilly, Red Alyn of the Rosewood, Young Henly (well past fifty), Old Henly (well past seventy), Hairy Hal, Spotted Pate of Maidenpool. A couple of them saw Jon looking down from atop the King's Tower and waved up at him. Others turned away. They still think me a turncloak. That was a bitter draft to drink, but Jon could not blame them. He was a bastard, after all. Everyone knew that bastards were wanton and treacherous by nature, having been born of lust and deceit. And he had made as many enemies as friends at Castle Black... Rast, for one. Jon had once threatened to have Ghost rip his throat out unless he stopped tormenting Samwell Tarly, and Rast did not forget things like that. He was raking dry leaves into piles under the stairs just now, but every so often he stopped long enough to give Jon a nasty look."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No,\" Donal Noye roared at three of the Mole's Town men, down below. \"The pitch goes to the hoist, the oil up the steps, crossbow bolts to the fourth, fifth, and sixth landings, spears to first and second. Stack the lard under the stair, yes, there, behind the planks. The casks of meat are for the barricade. Now, you poxy plow pushers, NOW!\"\n\nHe has a lord's voice, Jon thought. His father had always said that in battle a captain's lungs were as important as his sword arm. \"It does not matter how brave or brilliant a man is, if his commands cannot be heard,\" Lord Eddard told his sons, so Robb and he used to climb the towers of Winterfell to shout at each other across the yard. Donal Noye could have drowned out both of them. The moles all went in terror of him, and rightfully so, since he was always threatening to rip their heads off.\n\nThree-quarters of the village had taken Jon's warning to heart and come to Castle Black for refuge. Noye had decreed that every man still spry enough to hold a spear or swing an axe would help defend the barricade, else they could damn well go home and take their chances with the Thenns. He had emptied the armory to put good steel in their hands; big double-bladed axes, razor-sharp daggers, longswords, maces, spiked morningstars. Clad in studded leather jerkins and mail hauberks, with greaves for their legs and gorgets to keep their heads on their shoulders, a few of them even looked like soldiers. Ina bad light. If you squint.\n\nNoye had put the women and children to work as well. Those too young to fight would carry water and tend the fires, the Mole's Town midwife would assist Clydas and Maester Aemon with any wounded, and Three-Finger Hobb suddenly had more spit boys, kettle stirrers, and onion choppers than he knew what to do with. Two of the whores had even offered to fight, and had shown enough skill with the crossbow to be given a place on the steps forty feet up."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It's cold.\" Satin stood with his hands tucked into his armpits under his cloak. His cheeks were bright red.\n\nJon made himself smile. \"The Frostfangs are cold. This is a brisk autumn day.\"\n\n\"I hope I never seethe Frostfangs then. I knew a girl in Oldtown who liked to ice her wine. That's the best place for ice, I think. In wine.\" Satin glanced south, frowned. \"You think the scarecrow sentinels scared them off, my lord?\"\n\n\"We can hope.\" It was possible, Jon supposed... but more likely the wildlings had simply paused fora bit of rape and plunder in Mole's Town. Or maybe Styr was waiting for nightfall, to move up undercover of darkness.\n\nMidday came and went, with still no sign of Thenns on the kingsroad. Jon heard footsteps inside the tower, though, and Owen the Oaf popped up out of the trapdoor, red-faced from the climb. He had a basket of buns under one arm, a wheel of cheese under the other, a bag of onions dangling from one hand. \"Hobb said to feed you, in case you're stuck up here awhile.\"\n\nThat, or for our last meal. \"Thank him for us, Owen.\"\n\nDick Follard was deaf as a stone, but his nose worked well enough. The buns were still warm from the oven when he went digging in the basket and plucked one out. He found a crock of butter as well, and spread some with his dagger. \"Raisins,\" he announced happily. \"Nuts, too.\" His speech was thick, but easy enough to understand once you got used to it.\n\n\"You can have mine too,\" said Satin. \"I'm not hungry.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Eat,\" Jon told him."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"There's no knowing when you'll have another chance.\" He took two buns himself. The nuts were pine nuts, and besides the raisins there were bits of dried apple.\n\n\"Will the wildlings come today, Lord Snow?\" Owen asked.\n\n\"You'll know if they do,\" said Jon. \"Listen for the horns.\"\n\n\"Two. Two is for wildlings.\" Owen was tall, towheaded, and amiable, a tireless worker and surprisingly deft when it came to working wood and fixing catapults and the like, but as he'd gladly tell you, his mother had dropped him on his head when he was a baby, and half his wits had leaked out through his ear.\n\n\"You remember whereto go?\" Jon asked him.\n\n\"I'm to go to the stairs, Donal Noye says. I'm to go up to the third landing and shoot my crossbow down at the wildlings if they try to climb over the barrier. The third landing, one two three.\" His head bobbed up and down. \"If the wildlings attack, the king will come and help us, won't he? He's a mighty warrior, King Robert. He's sure to come. Maester Aemon sent him a bird.\"\n\nThere was no use telling him that Robert Baratheon was dead. He would forget it, as he'd forgotten it before. \"Maester Aemon sent him a bird,\" Jon agreed. That seemed to make Owen happy.\n\nMaester Aemon had sent a lot of birds... not to one king, but to four. Wildlings at the gate, the message ran. The realm in danger. Send all the help you canto Castle Black. Even as far as Oldtown and the Citadel the ravens flew, and to half a hundred mighty lords in their castles. The northern lords offered their best hope, so to them Aemon had sent two birds. To the Umbers and the Boltons, to Castle Cerwyn and Torrhen's Square, Karhold and Deepwood Motte, to Bear Island, Oldcastle, Widow's Watch, White Harbor, Barrowton, and the Rills, to the mountain fastnesses of the Liddles, the Burleys, the Norreys, the Harclays, and the Wulls, the blackbirds brought their plea. Wildlings at the gate. The north in danger. Come with all your strength."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Well, ravens might have wings, but lords and kings do not. If help was coming, it would not come today.\n\nAs morning turned to afternoon, the smoke of Mole's Town blew away and the southern sky was clear again. No clouds, thought Jon. That was good. Rain or snow could doom them all.\n\nClydas and Maester Aemon rode the winch cage up to safety at the top of the Wall, and most of the Mole's Town wives as well. Men in black cloaks paced restlessly on the tower tops and shouted back and forth across the courtyards. Septon Cellador led the men on the barricade in a prayer, beseeching the Warrior to give them strength. Deaf Dick Follard curled up beneath his cloak and went to sleep. Satin walked a hundred leagues in circles, round and round the crenellations. The Wall wept and the sun crept across a hard blue sky. Near evenfall, Owen the Oaf returned with a loaf of black bread and a pail of Hobb's best mutton, cooked in a thick broth of ale and onions. Even Dick woke up for that. They ate every bit of it, using chunks of bread to wipe the bottom of the pail. By the time they were done the sun was low in the west, the shadows sharp and black throughout the castle. \"Light the fire,\" Jon told Satin, \"and fill the kettle with oil.\"\n\nHe went downstairs himself to bar the door, to try and work some of the stiffness from his leg. That was a mistake, and Jon soon knew it, but he clutched the crutch and saw it through all the same. The door to the King's Tower was oak studded with iron. It might delay the Thenns, but it would not stop them if they wanted to come in. Jon slammed the bar down in its notches, paid a visit to the privy-it might well be his last chance-and hobbled backup to the roof, grimacing at the pain."},{"from":"human","value":"The west had gone the color of a blood bruise, but the sky above was cobalt blue, deepening to purple, and the stars were coming out."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jon sat between two merlons with only a scarecrow for company and watched the Stallion gallop up the sky. Or was it the Horned Lord? He wondered where Ghost was now. He wondered about Ygritte as well, and told himself that waylay madness.\n\nThey came in the night, of course. Like thieves, Jon thought. Like murderers.\n\nSatin pissed himself when the horns blew, but Jon pretended not to notice. \"Go shake Dick by the shoulder,\" he told the Oldtown boy, \"else he's liable to sleep through the fight.\"\n\n\"I'm frightened.\" Satin's face was a ghastly white.\n\n\"So are they.\" Jon leaned his crutch up against a merlon and took up his longbow, bending the smooth thick Dornish yew to slip a bowstring through the notches. \"Don't waste a quarrel unless you know you have a good clean shot,\" he said when Satin returned from waking Dick. \"We have an ample supply up here, but ample doesn't mean inexhaustible. And step behind a merlon to reload, don't try and hide in back of a scarecrow. They're made of straw, an arrow will punch through them.\" He did not bother telling Dick Follard anything. Dick could read your lips if there was enough light and he gave a damn what you were saying, but he knew it all already.\n\nThe three of them took up positions on three sides of the round tower. Jon hung a quiver from his belt and pulled an arrow. The shaft was black, the fletching grey. Ashe notched it to his string, he remembered something that Theon Greyjoy had once said after a hunt. \"The boar can keep his tusks and the bear his claws,\" he had declared, smiling that way he did. \"There's nothing half so mortal as a grey goose feather.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jon had never been half the hunter that Theon was, but he was no stranger to the longbow either. There were dark shapes slipping around the armory, backs against the stone, but he could not see them well enough to waste an arrow. He heard distant shouts, and saw the archers on the Tower of Guards loosing shafts at the ground. That was too far off to concern Jon. But when he glimpsed three shadows detach themselves from the old stables fifty yards away, he stepped up to the crenel, raised his bow, and drew. They were running, so he led them, waiting, waiting...\n\nThe arrow made a soft hiss as it left his string. A moment later there was a grunt, and suddenly only two shadows were loping across the yard. They ran all the faster, but Jon had already pulled a second arrow from his quiver. This time he hurried the shot too much, and missed. The wildlings were gone by the time he nocked again. He searched for another target, and found four, rushing around the empty shell of the Lord Commander's Keep. The moonlight glimmered off their spears and axes, and the gruesome devices on their round leathern shields; skulls and bones, serpents, bear claws, twisted demonic faces. Free folk, he knew. The Thenns carried shields of black boiled leather with bronze rims and bosses, but theirs were plain and unadorned. These were the lighter wicker shields of raiders.\n\nJon pulled the goose feather back to his ear, aimed, and loosed the arrow, then nocked and drew and loosed again. The first shaft pierced the bearclaw shield, the second one a throat. The wildling screamed as he went down. He heard the deep thrum of Deaf Dick's crossbow to his left, and Satin's a moment later. \"I got one!\" the boy cried hoarsely. \"I got one in the chest.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Get another,\" Jon called.\n\nHe did not have to search for targets now; only choose them. He dropped a wildling archer as he was fitting an arrow to his string, then sent a shaft toward the axeman hacking at the door of Hardin's Tower. That time he missed, but the arrow quivering in the oak made the wildling reconsider. It was only as he was running off that Jon recognized Big Boil. Half a heartbeat later, old Mully put an arrow through his leg from the roof of the Flint Barracks, and he crawled off bleeding. That will stop him bitching about his boil, Jon thought.\n\nWhen his quiver was empty, he went to get another, and moved to a different crenel, side by side with Deaf Dick Follard. Jon got off three arrows for every bolt Deaf Dick discharged, but that was the advantage of the longbow. The crossbow penetrated better, some insisted, but it was slow and cumbersome to reload. He could hear the wildlings shouting to each other, and somewhere to the west a warhorn blew. The world was moonlight and shadow, and time became an endless round of notch and draw and loose. A wildling arrow ripped through the throat of the straw sentinel beside him, but Jon Snow scarcely noticed. Give me one clean shot at the Magnar of Thenn, he prayed to his father's gods. The Magnar at least was a foe that he could hate. Give me Styr.\n\nHis fingers were growing stiff and his thumb was bleeding, but still Jon notched and drew and loosed. A gout of flame caught his eye, and he turned to seethe door of the common hall afire. It was only a few moments before the whole great timbered hall was burning. Three-Finger Hobb and his Mole's Town helpers were safe atop the Wall, he knew, but it felt like a punch in the belly all the same. \"JON,\" Deaf Dick yelled in his thick voice, \"the armory.\" They were on the roof, he saw. One had a torch. Dick hopped upon the crenel fora better shot, jerked his crossbow to his shoulder, and sent a quarrel thrumming toward the torch man. He missed."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The archer down below him didn't.\n\nFollard never made a sound, only toppled forward headlong over the parapet. It was a hundred feet to the yard below. Jon heard the thump as he was peering round a straw soldier, trying to see where the arrow had come from. Not ten feet from Deaf Dick's body, he glimpsed a leather shield, a ragged cloak, a mop of thick red hair. Kissed by fire, he thought, lucky. He brought his bow up, but his fingers would not part, and she was gone as suddenly as she'd appeared. He swiveled, cursing, and loosed a shaft at the men on the armory roof instead, but he missed them as well.\n\nBy then the east stables were afire too, black smoke and wisps of burning hay pouring from the stalls. When the roof collapsed, flames rose up roaring, so loud they almost drowned out the warhorns of the Thenns. Fifty of them were pounding up the kingsroad in tight column, their shields held up above their heads. Others were swarming through the vegetable garden, across the flagstone yard, around the old dry well. Three had hacked their way through the doors of Maester Aemon's apartments in the timber keep below the rookery, and a desperate fight was going on atop the Silent Tower, longswords against bronze axes. None of that mattered. The dance has moved on, he thought.\n\nJon hobbled across to Satin and grabbed him by the shoulder. \"With me,\" he shouted. Together they moved to the north parapet, where the King's Tower looked down on the gate and Donal Noye's makeshift wall of logs and barrels and sacks of corn. The Thenns were there before them. They wore halfhelms, and had thin bronze disks sewn to their long leather shirts. Many wielded bronze axes, though a few were chipped stone. More had short stabbing spears with leaf-shaped heads that gleamed redly in the light from the burning stables. They were screaming in the Old Tongue as they stormed the barricade, jabbing with their spears, swinging their bronze axes, spilling corn and blood with equal abandon while crossbow quarrels and arrows rained down on them from the archers that Donal Noye had posted on the stair."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What do we do?\" Satin shouted.\n\n\"We kill them,\" Jon shouted back, a black arrow in his hand.\n\nNo archer could have asked for an easier shot. The Thenns had their backs to the King's Tower as they charged the crescent, clambering over bags and barrels to reach the men in black. Both Jon and Satin chanced to choose the same target. He had just reached the top of the barricade when an arrow sprouted from his neck and a quarrel between his shoulder blades. Half a heartbeat later a longsword took him in the belly and he fell back onto the man behind him. Jon reached down to his quiver and found it empty again. Satin was winding back his crossbow. He left him to it and went for more arrows, but he hadn't taken more than three steps before the trap slammed open three feet in front of him. Bloody hell, I never even heard the door break.\n\nThere was no time to think or plan or shout for help. Jon dropped his bow, reached back over his shoulder, ripped Longclaw from its sheath, and buried the blade in the middle of the first head to pop out of the tower. Bronze was no match for Valyrian steel. The blow sheared right through the Thenn's helm and deep into his skull, and he went crashing back down where he'd come from. There were more behind him, Jon knew from the shouting. He fell back and called to Satin. The next man to make the climb got a quarrel through his cheek. He vanished too. \"The oil,\" Jon said. Satin nodded. Together they snatched up the thick quilted pads they'd left beside the fire, lifted the heavy kettle of boiling oil, and dumped it down the hole on the Thenns below. The shrieks were as bad as anything he had ever heard, and Satin looked as though he was going to be sick. Jon kicked the trapdoor shut, set the heavy iron kettle on top of it, and gave the boy with the pretty face a hard shake. \"Retch later,\" Jon yelled. \"Come.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They had only been gone from the parapets fora few moments, but everything below had changed. A dozen black brothers and a few Mole's Town men still stood atop the crates and barrels, but the wildlings were swarming overall along the crescent, pushing them back. Jon saw one shove his spear up through Rast's belly so hard he lifted him into the air. Young Henly was dead and Old Henly was dying, surrounded by foes. He could see Easy spinning and slashing, laughing like a loon, his cloak flapping as he leapt from cask to cask. A bronze axe caught him just below the knee and the laughter turned into a bubbling shriek.\n\n\"They're breaking,\" Satin said.\n\n\"No,\" said Jon, \"they're broken.\"\n\nIt happened quickly. One mole fled and then another, and suddenly all the villagers were throwing down their weapons and abandoning the barricade. The brothers were too few to hold alone. Jon watched them try and form a line to fallback in order, but the Thenns washed over them with spear and axe, and then they were fleeing too. Dornish Dilly slipped and went down on his face, and a wildling planted a spear between his shoulder blades. Kegs, slow and short of breath, had almost reached the bottom step when a Thenn caught the end of his cloak and yanked him around... but a crossbow quarrel dropped the man before his axe could fall. \"Got him,\" Satin crowed, as Kegs staggered to the stair and began to crawl up the stepson hands and knees.\n\nThe gate is lost. Donal Noye had closed and chained it, but it was therefor the taking, the iron bars glimmering red with reflected firelight, the cold black tunnel behind. No one had fallen back to defend it; the only safety was on top of the Wall, seven hundred feet up the crooked wooden stairs."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What gods do you pray to?\" Jon asked Satin.\n\n\"The Seven,\" the boy from Oldtown said.\n\n\"Pray, then,\" Jon told him. \"Pray to your new gods, and I'll pray to my old ones.\" It all turned here.\n\nWith the confusion at the trapdoor, Jon had forgotten to fill his quiver. He limped back across the roof and did that now, and picked up his bow as well. The kettle had not moved from where he'd left it, so it seemed as though they were safe enough for the nonce. The dance has moved on, and we're watching from the gallery, he thought as he hobbled back. Satin was loosing quarrels at the wildlings on the steps, then ducking down behind a merlon to cock the crossbow. He maybe pretty, but he's quick.\n\nThe real battle was on the steps. Noye had put spearmen on the two lowest landings, but the headlong flight of the villagers had panicked them and they had joined the flight, racing up toward the third landing with the Thenns killing anyone who fell behind. The archers and crossbowmen on the higher landings were trying to drop shafts over their heads. Jon nocked an arrow, drew, and loosed, and was pleased when one of the wildlings went rolling down the steps. The heat of the fires was making the Wall weep, and the flames danced and shimmered against the ice. The steps shook to the footsteps of men running for their lives.\n\nAgain Jon notched and drew and loosed, but there was only one of him and one of Satin, and a good sixty or seventy Thenns pounding up the stairs, killing as they went, drunk on victory. On the fourth landing, three brothers in black cloaks stood shoulder to shoulder with longswords in their hands, and battle was joined again, briefly. But there were only three and soon enough the wildling tide washed over them, and their blood dripped down the steps. \"A man is never so vulnerable in battle as when he flees,\" Lord Eddard had told Jon once. \"A running man is like a wounded animal to a soldier. It gets his bloodlust up.\" The archers on the fifth landing fled before the battle even reached them. It was a rout, a red rout."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Fetch the torches,\" Jon told Satin. There were four of them stacked beside the fire, their heads wrapped in oily rags. There were a dozen fire arrows too. The Oldtown boy thrust one torch into the fire until it was blazing brightly, and brought the rest back under his arm, unlit. He looked frightened again, as well he might. Jon was frightened too.\n\nIt was then that he saw Styr. The Magnar was climbing up the barricade, over the gutted corn sacks and smashed barrels and the bodies of friends and foe alike. His bronze scale armor gleamed darkly in the firelight. Styr had taken off his helm to survey the scene of his triumph, and the bald earless whoreson was smiling. In his hand was along weirwood spear with an ornate bronze head. When he saw the gate, he pointed the spear at it and barked something in the Old Tongue to the half-dozen Thenns around him. Too late, Jon thought. You should have led your men over the barricade, you might have been able to save a few.\n\nUp above, a warhorn sounded, long and low. Not from the top of the Wall, but from the ninth landing, some two hundred feet up, where Donal Noye was standing.\n\nJon notched afire arrow to his bowstring, and Satin lit it from the torch. He stepped to the parapet, drew, aimed, loosed. Ribbons of flame trailed behind as the shaft sped downward and thudded into its target, crackling.\n\nNot Styr. The steps. Or more precisely, the casks and kegs and sacks that Donal Noye had piled up beneath the steps, as high as the first landing; the barrels of lard and lamp oil, the bags of leaves and oily rags, the split logs, bark, and wood shavings. \"Again,\" said Jon, and, \"Again,\" and, \"Again.\" Other longbowmen were firing too, from every tower top in range, some sending their arrows up in high arcs to drop before the Wall. When Jon ran out of fire arrows, he and Satin began to light the torches and fling them from the crenels."},{"from":"human","value":"Up above another fire was blooming."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The old wooden steps had drunk up oil like a sponge, and Donal Noye had drenched them from the ninth landing all the way down to the seventh. Jon could only hope that most of their own people had staggered up to safety before Noye threw the torches. The black brothers at least had known the plan, but the villagers had not.\n\nWind and fire did the rest. All Jon had to do was watch. With flames below and flames above, the wildlings had nowhere to go. Some continued upward, and died. Some went downward, and died. Some stayed where they were. They died as well. Many leapt from the steps before they burned, and died from the fall. Twenty-odd Thenns were still huddled together between the fires when the ice cracked from the heat, and the whole lower third of the stair broke off, along with several tons of ice. That was the last that Jon Snow saw of Styr, the Magnar of Thenn. The Wall defends itself, he thought.\n\nJon asked Satin to help him down to the yard. His wounded leg hurt so badly that he could hardly walk, even with the crutch. \"Bring the torch,\" he told the boy from Oldtown. \"I need to look for someone.\" It had been mostly Thenns on the steps. Surely some of the free folk had escaped. Mance's people, not the Magnar's. She might have been one. So they climbed down past the bodies of the men who'd tried the trapdoor, and Jon wandered through the dark with his crutch under one arm, and the other around the shoulders of a boy who'd been a whore in Oldtown.\n\nThe stables and the common hall had burned down to smoking cinders by then, but the fire still raged along the wall, climbing step by step and landing by landing. From time to time they'd hear a groan and then a craaaack, and another chunk would come crashing off the Wall. The air was full of ash and ice crystals."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He found Quort dead, and Stone Thumbs dying. He found some dead and dying Thenns he had never truly known. He found Big Boil, weak from all the blood he'd lost but still alive.\n\nHe found Ygritte sprawled across a patch of old snow beneath the Lord Commander's Tower, with an arrow between her breasts. The ice crystals had settled over her face, and in the moonlight it looked as though she wore a glittering silver mask.\n\nThe arrow was black, Jon saw, but it was fletched with white duck feathers. Not mine, he told himself, not one of mine. But he felt as if it were.\n\nWhen he knelt in the snow beside her, her eyes opened. \"Jon Snow,\" she said, very softly. It sounded as though the arrow had found a lung. \"Is this a proper castle now? Not just a tower?\"\n\n\"It is.\" Jon took her hand.\n\n\"Good,\" she whispered. \"I wanted t' see one proper castle, before... before I...\"\n\n\"You'll see a hundred castles,\" he promised her. \"The battle's done. Maester Aemon will see to you.\" He touched her hair. \"You're kissed by fire, remember? Lucky. It will take more than an arrow to kill you. Aemon will draw it out and patch you up, and we'll get you some milk of the poppy for the pain.\"\n\nShe just smiled at that. \"D'you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave. I told you so.\"\n\n\"We'll go back to the cave,\" he said. \"You're not going to die, Ygritte. You're not.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. \"You know nothing, Jon Snow,\" she sighed, dying."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"BRAN\n\nIt is only another empty castle,\" Meera Reed said as she gazed across the desolation of rubble, ruins, and weeds.\n\nNo, thought Bran, it is the Nightfort, and this is the end of the world. In the mountains, all he could think of was reaching the Wall and finding the three-eyed crow, but now that they were here he was filled with fears. The dream he'd had... the dream Summer had had... No, I mustn't think about that dream. He had not even told the Reeds, though Meera at least seemed to sense that something was wrong. If he never talked of it maybe he could forget he ever dreamed it, and then it wouldn't have happened and Robb and Grey Wind would still be...\n\n\"Hodor.\" Hodor shifted his weight, and Bran with it. He was tired. They had been walking for hours. At least he's not afraid. Bran was scared of this place, and almost as scared of admitting it to the Reeds. I'm a prince of the north, a Stark of Winterfell, almost a man grown, I have to be as brave as Robb.\n\nJojen gazed up at him with his dark green eyes. \"There's nothing hereto hurt us, Your Grace.\"\n\nBran wasn't so certain. The Nightfort had figured in some of Old Nan's scariest stories. It was here that Night's King had reigned, before his name was wiped from the memory of man. This was where the Rat Cook had served the Andal king his prince-and-bacon pie, where the seventy-nine sentinels stood their watch, where brave young Danny Flint had been raped and murdered. This was the castle where King Sherrit had called down his curse on the Andals of old, where the'prentice boys had faced the thing that came in the night, where blind Symeon Star-Eyes had seen the hellhounds fighting. Mad Axe had once walked these yards and climbed these towers, butchering his brothers in the dark."},{"from":"human","value":"All that had happened hundreds and thousands of years ago, to be sure, and some maybe never happened at all."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Maester Luwin always said that Old Nan's stories shouldn't be swallowed whole. But once his uncle came to see Father, and Bran asked about the Nightfort. Benjen Stark never said the tales were true, but he never said they weren't; he only shrugged and said, \"We left the Nightfort two hundred years ago,\" as if that was an answer.\n\nBran forced himself to look around. The morning was cold but bright, the sun shining down from a hard blue sky, but he did not like the noises. The wind made a nervous whistling sound as it shivered through the broken towers, the keeps groaned and settled, and he could hear rats scrabbling under the floor of the great hall. The Rat Cook's children running from their father. The yards were small forests where spindly trees rubbed their bare branches together and dead leaves scuttled like roaches across patches of old snow. There were trees growing where the stables had been, and a twisted white weirwood pushing up through the gaping hole in the roof of the domed kitchen. Even Summer was not at ease here. Bran slipped inside his skin, just for an instant, to get the smell of the place. He did not like that either.\n\nAnd there was noway through.\n\nBran had told them there wouldn't be. He had told them and told them, but Jojen Reed had insisted on seeing for himself. He had had a green dream, he said, and his green dreams did not lie. They don't open any gates either, thought Bran.\n\nThe gate the Nightfort guarded had been sealed since the day the black brothers had loaded up their mules and garrons and departed for Deep Lake; its iron portcullis lowered, the chains that raised it carried off, the tunnel packed with stone and rubble all frozen together until they were as impenetrable as the Wall itself. \"We should have followed Jon,\" Bran said when he saw it. He thought of his bastard brother often, since the night that Summer had watched him ride off through the storm. \"We should have found the kingsroad and gone to Castle Black.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"We dare not, my prince,\" Jojen said."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I've told you why.\"\n\n\"But there are wildlings. They killed some man and they wanted to kill Jon too. Jojen, there were a hundred of them.\"\n\n\"So you said. We are four. You helped your brother, if that was him in truth, but it almost cost you Summer.\"\n\n\"I know,\" said Bran miserably. The direwolf had killed three of them, maybe more, but there had been too many. When they formed a tight ring around the tall earless man, he had tried to slip away through the rain, but one of their arrows had come flashing after him, and the sudden stab of pain had driven Bran out of the wolf's skin and back into his own. After the storm finally died, they had huddled in the dark without afire, talking in whispers if they talked at all, listening to Hodor's heavy breathing and wondering if the wildlings might try and cross the lake in the morning. Bran had reached out for Summertime and time again, but the pain he found drove him back, the way a red-hot kettle makes you pull your hand back even when you mean to grab it. Only Hodor slept that night, muttering'Hodor, hodor,\" as he tossed and turned. Bran was terrified that Summer was off dying in the darkness. Please, you old gods, he prayed, you took Winterfell, and my father, and my legs, please don't take Summer too. And watch over Jon Snow too, and make the wildlings go away.\n\nNo weirwoods grew on that stony island in the lake, yet somehow the old gods must have heard. The wildlings took their sweet time about departing the next morning, stripping the bodies of their dead and the old man they'd killed, even pulling a few fish from the lake, and there was a scary moment when three of them found the causeway and started to walkout... but the path turned and they didn't, and two of them nearly drowned before the others pulled them out. The tall bald man yelled at them, his words echoing across the water in some tongue that even Jojen did not know, and a little while later they gathered up their shields and spears and marched off north by east, the same way Jon had gone. Bran wanted to leave too, to look for Summer, but the Reeds said no. \"We will stay another night,\" said Jojen, \"put some leagues between us and the wildlings. You don't want to meet them again, do you?\" Late that afternoon Summer returned from wherever he'd been hiding, dragging his back leg. He ate parts of the bodies in the inn, driving off the crows, then swam out to the island. Meera had drawn the broken arrow from his leg and rubbed the wound with the juice of some plants she found growing around the base of the tower. The direwolf was still limping, but a little less each day, it seemed to Bran. The gods had heard."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Maybe we should try another castle,\" Meera said to her brother."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Maybe we could get through the gate somewhere else. I could go scout if you wanted, I'd make better time by myself.\"\n\nBran shook his head. \"If you go east there's Deep Lake, then Queensgate. West is Icemark. But they'll be the same, only smaller. All the gates are sealed except the ones at Castle Black, Eastwatch, and the Shadow Tower.\"\n\nHodor said, \"Hodor,\" to that, and the Reeds exchanged a look. \"At least I should climb to the top of the Wall,\" Meera decided. \"Maybe I'll see something up there.\"\n\n\"What could you hope to see?\" Jojen asked.\n\n\"Something,\" said Meera, and for once she was adamant.\n\nIt should be me. Bran raised his head to lookup at the Wall, and imagined himself climbing inch by inch, squirming his fingers into cracks in the ice and kicking footholds with his toes. That made him smile in spite of everything, the dreams and the wildlings and Jon and everything. He had climbed the walls of Winterfell when he was little, and all the towers too, but none of them had been so high, and they were only stone. The Wall could look like stone, all grey and pitted, but then the clouds would break and the sun would hit it differently, and all at once it would transform, and stand there white and blue and glittering. It was the end of the world, Old Nan always said. On the other side were monsters and giants and ghouls, but they could not pass so long as the Wall stood strong. I want to stand on top with Meera, Bran thought. I want to stand on top and see.\n\nBut he was a broken boy with useless legs, so all he could do was watch from below as Meera went up in his stead."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She wasn't really climbing, the way he used to climb. She was only walking up some steps that the Night's Watch had hewn hundreds and thousands of years ago. He remembered Maester Luwin saying the Nightfort was the only castle where the steps had been cut from the ice of the Wall itself. Or maybe it had been Uncle Benjen. The newer castles had wooden steps, or stone ones, or long ramps of earth and gravel. Ice is too treacherous. It was his uncle who'd told him that. He said that the outer surface of the Wall wept icy tears sometimes, though the core inside stayed frozen hard as rock. The steps must have melted and refrozen a thousand times since the last black brothers left the castle, and every time they did they shrunk a little and got smoother and rounder and more treacherous.\n\nAnd smaller. It's almost like the Wall was swallowing them back into itself. Meera Reed was very surefooted, but even so she was going slowly, moving from nub to nub. In two places where the steps were hardly thereat all she got down on all fours. It will be worse when she comes down, Bran thought, watching. Even so, he wished it was him up there. When she reached the top, crawling up the icy knobs that were all that remained of the highest steps, Meera vanished from his sight.\n\n\"When will she comedown?\" Bran asked Jojen.\n\n\"When she is ready. She will want to have a good look... at the Wall and what's beyond. We should do the same down here.\"\n\n\"Hodor?\" said Hodor, doubtfully.\n\n\"We might find something,\" Jojen insisted.\n\nOr something might find us. Bran couldn't say it, though; he did not want Jojen to think he was craven."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"So they went exploring, Jojen Reed leading, Bran in his basket on Hodor's back, Summer padding by their side. Once the direwolf bolted through a dark door and returned a moment later with a grey rat between his teeth. The Rat Cook, Bran thought, but it was the wrong color, and only as big as a cat. The Rat Cook was white, and almost as huge as a sow...\n\nThere were a lot of dark doors in the Nightfort, and a lot of rats. Bran could hear them scurrying through the vaults and cellars, and the maze of pitch-black tunnels that connected them. Jojen wanted to go poking around down there, but Hodor said'Hodor\" to that, and Bran said'No.\" There were worse things than rats down in the dark beneath the Nightfort.\n\n\"This seems an old place,\" Jojen said as they walked down a gallery where the sunlight fell in dusty shafts through empty windows.\n\n\"Twice as old as Castle Black,\" Bran said, remembering. \"It was the first castle on the Wall, and the largest.\" But it had also been the first abandoned, all the way back in the time of the Old King. Even then it had been three-quarters empty and too costly to maintain. Good Queen Alysanne had suggested that the Watch replace it with a smaller, newer castle at a spot only seven miles east, where the Wall curved along the shore of a beautiful green lake. Deep Lake had been paid for by the queen's jewels and built by the men the Old King had sent north, and the black brothers had abandoned the Nightfort to the rats.\n\nThat was two centuries past, though. Now Deep Lake stood as empty as the castle it had replaced, and the Nightfort...\n\n\"There are ghosts here,\" Bran said. Hodor had heard all the stories before, but Jojen might not have. \"Old ghosts, from before the Old King, even before Aegon the Dragon, seventy-nine deserters who went south to be outlaws. One was Lord Ryswell's youngest son, so when they reached the barrowlands they sought shelter at his castle, but Lord Ryswell took them captive and returned them to the Nightfort. The Lord Commander had holes hewn in the top of the Wall and he put the deserters in them and sealed them up alive in the ice. They have spears and horns and they all face north. The seventy-nine sentinels, they're called. They left their posts in life, so in death their watch goes on forever. Years later, when Lord Ryswell was old and dying, he had himself carried to the Nightfort so he could take the black and stand beside his son. He'd sent him back to the Wall for honor's sake, but he loved him still, so he came to share his watch.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Extend the plot as the writer's co-author.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 56\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He had said as much to Maester Pylos.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You area notable captain,\\\" the maester replied. \\\"A captain rules his ship, does he not? He must navigate treacherous waters, set his sails to catch the rising wind, know when a storm is coming and how best to weather it. This is much the same.\\\"\\n\\nPylos meant it kindly, but his assurances rang hollow. \\\"It is not at all the same!\\\" Davos had protested. \\\"A kingdom's not a ship... and a good thing, or this kingdom would be sinking. I know wood and rope and water, yes, but how will that serve me now? Where do I find the wind to blow King Stannis to his throne?\\\"\\n\\nThe maester laughed at that. \\\"And there you have it, my lord. Words are wind, you know, and you've blown mine away with your good sense. His Grace knows what he has in you, I think.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Onions,\\\" said Davos glumly. \\\"That is what he has in me. The King's Hand should be a highborn lord, someone wise and learned, a battle commander or a great knight...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ser Ryam Redwyne was the greatest knight of his day, and one of the worst Hands ever to serve a king. Septon Murmison's prayers worked miracles, but as Hand he soon had the whole realm praying for his death. Lord Butterwell was renowned for wit, Myles Smallwood for courage, Ser Otto Hightower for learning, yet they failed as Hands, everyone. As for birth, the dragonkings oft chose Hands from amongst their own blood, with results as various as Baelor Breakspear and Maegor the Cruel. Against this, you have Septon Barth, the blacksmith's son the Old King plucked from the Red Keep's library, who gave the realm forty years of peace and plenty.\\\" Pylos smiled. \\\"Read your history, Lord Davos, and you will see that your doubts are groundless.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"How can I read history, when I cannot read?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Any man can read, my lord,\\\" said Maester Pylos. \\\"There is no magic needed, nor high birth. I am teaching the art to your son, at the king's command. Let me teach you as well.\\\"\\n\\nIt was a kindly offer, and not one that Davos could refuse. And so everyday he repaired to the maester's chambers high atop Sea Dragon Tower, to frown over scrolls and parchments and great leather tomes and try to puzzle out a few more words. His efforts often gave him headaches, and made him feel as big a fool as Patchface besides. His son Devan was not yet twelve, yet he was well ahead of his father, and for Princess Shireen and Edric Storm reading seemed as natural as breathing. When it came to books, Davos was more a child than any of them. Yet he persisted. He was the King's Hand now, and a King's Hand should read.\\n\\nThe narrow twisting steps of Sea Dragon Tower had been a sore trial to Maester Cressen after he broke his hip. Davos still found himself missing the old man. He thought Stannis must as well. Pylos seemed clever and diligent and well-meaning, but he was so young, and the king did not confide in him as he had in Cressen. The old man had been with Stannis so long... Until he ran afoul of Melisandre, and died for it.\\n\\nAt the top of the steps Davos heard a soft jingle of bells that could only herald Patchface. The princess's fool was waiting outside the maester's door for her like a faithful hound. Dough-soft and slump-shouldered, his broad face tattooed in a motley pattern of red and green squares, Patchface wore a helm made of a rack of deer antlers strapped to a tin bucket. A dozen bells hung from the tines and rang when he moved... which meant constantly, since the fool seldom stood still. He jingled and jangled his way everywhere he went; small wonder that Pylos had exiled him from Shireen's lessons. \\\"Under the sea the old fish eat the young fish,\\\" the fool muttered at Davos. He bobbed his head, and his bells clanged and chimed and sang. \\\"I know, I know, oh oh oh.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Up here the young fish teach the old fish,\\\" said Davos, who never felt so ancient as when he sat down to try and read. It might have been different if aged Master Cressen had been the one teaching him, but Pylos was young enough to be his son.\\n\\nHe found the maester seated at his long wooden table covered with books and scrolls, across from the three children. Princess Shireen sat between the two boys. Even now Davos could take great pleasure in the sight of his own blood keeping company with a princess and a king's bastard. Devan will be a lord now, not merely a knight. The Lord of the Rainwood. Davos took more pride in that than in wearing the title himself. He reads too. He reads and he writes, as if he had been born to it. Pylos had naught but praise for his diligence, and the master-at-arms said Devan was showing promise with sword and lance as well. And he is a godly lad, too. \\\"My brothers have ascended to the Hall of Light, to sit beside the Lord,\\\" Devan had said when his father told him how his four elder brothers had died. \\\"I will pray for them at the nightfires, and for you as well, Father, so you might walk in the Light of the Lord till the end of your days.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Good morrow to you, Father,\\\" the boy greeted him. He looks so much like Dale did at his age, Davos thought. His eldest had never dressed so fine as Devan in his squire's raiment, to be sure, but they shared the same square plain face, the same forthright brown eyes, the same thin brown flyaway hair. Devan's cheeks and chin were dusted with blond hair, a fuzz that would have shamed a proper peach, though the boy was fiercely proud of his'beard.\\\" Just as Dale was proud of his, once. Devan was the oldest of the three children at the table.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Yet Edric Storm was three inches taller and broader in the chest and shoulders. He was his father's son in that; nor did he ever miss a morning's work with sword and shield. Those old enough to have known Robert and Renly as children said that the bastard boy had more of their look than Stannis had ever shared; the coal-black hair, the deep blue eyes, the mouth, the jaw, the cheekbones. Only his ears reminded you that his mother had been a Florent.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, good morrow, my lord,\\\" Edric echoed. The boy could be fierce and proud, but the maesters and castellans and masters-at-arms who'd raised him had schooled him well in courtesy. \\\"Do you come from my uncle? How fares His Grace?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well,\\\" Davos lied. If truth be told, the king had a haggard, haunted look about him, but he saw no need to burden the boy with his fears. \\\"I hope I have not disturbed your lesson.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We had just finished, my lord,\\\" Maester Pylos said.\\n\\n\\\"We were reading about King Daeron the First.\\\" Princess Shireen was a sad, sweet, gentle child, far from pretty. Stannis had given her his square jaw and Selyse her Florent ears, and the gods in their cruel wisdom had seen fit to compound her homeliness by afflicting her with greyscale in the cradle. The disease had left one cheek and half her neck grey and cracked and hard, though it had spared both her life and her sight. \\\"He went to war and conquered Dorne. The Young Dragon, they called him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He worshiped false gods,\\\" said Devan, \\\"but he was a great king otherwise, and very brave in battle.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He was,\\\" agreed Edric Storm, \\\"but my father was braver. The Young Dragon never won three battles in a day.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The princess looked at him wide-eyed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Did Uncle Robert win three battles in a day?\\\"\\n\\nThe bastard nodded. \\\"It was when he'd first come home to call his banners. Lords Grandison, Cafferen, and Fell planned to join their strength at Summerhall and march on Storm's End, but he learned their plans from an informer and rode at once with all his knights and squires. As the plotters came upon Summerhall one by one, he defeated each of them in turn before they could join up with the others. He slew Lord Fell in single combat and captured his son Silveraxe.\\\"\\n\\nDevan looked to Pylos. \\\"Is that how it happened?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I said so, didn't I?\\\" Edric Storm said before the maester could reply. \\\"He smashed all three of them, and fought so bravely that Lord Grandison and Lord Cafferen became his men afterward, and Silveraxe too. No one ever beat my father.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Edric, you ought not boast,\\\" Maester Pylos said. \\\"King Robert suffered defeats like any other man. Lord Tyrell bested him at Ashford, and he lost many a tourney tilt as well.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He won more than he lost, though. And he killed Prince Rhaegar on the Trident.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That he did,\\\" the maester agreed. \\\"But now I must give my attention to Lord Davos, who has waited so patiently. We will read more of King Daeron's Conquest of Dorne on the morrow.\\\"\\n\\nPrincess Shireen and the boys said their farewells courteously. When they had taken their leaves, Maester Pylos moved closer to Davos. \\\"My lord, perhaps you would like to try a bit of Conquest of Dorne as well?\\\" He slid the slender leather-bound book across the table. \\\"King Daeron wrote with an elegant simplicity, and his history is rich with blood, battle, and bravery. Your son is quite engrossed.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"My son is not quite twelve. I am the King's Hand. Give me another letter, if you would.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you wish, my lord.\\\" Maester Pylos rummaged about his table, unrolling and then discarding various scraps of parchment. \\\"There are no new letters. Perhaps an old one...\\\"\\n\\nDavos enjoyed a good story as well as any man, but Stannis had not named him Hand for his enjoyment, he felt. His first duty was to help his king rule, and for that he must needs understand the words the ravens brought. The best way to learn a thing was to do it, he had found; sails or scrolls, it made no matter.\\n\\n\\\"This might serve our purpose.\\\" Pylos passed him a letter.\\n\\nDavos flattened down the little square of crinkled parchment and squinted at the tiny crabbed letters. Reading was hard on the eyes, that much he had learned early. Sometimes he wondered if the Citadel offered a champion's purse to the maester who wrote the smallest hand. Pylos had laughed at the notion, but...\\n\\n\\\"To the... five kings,\\\" read Davos, hesitating briefly over five, which he did not often see written out. \\\"The king... be... the king... beware?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Beyond,\\\" the maester corrected.\\n\\nDavos grimaced. \\\"The King beyond the Wall comes... comes south. He leads a... a... fast...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Vast.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"... avast host of wil... wild... wildlings. Lord M... Mmmor... Mormont sent a... raven from the... ha... ha...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Haunted. The haunted forest.\\\" Pylos underlined the words with the point of his finger.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"the haunted forest. He is... under a... attack?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nPleased, he plowed onward. \\\"Oth... other birds have come since, with no words. We... fear... Mormont slain with all... with all his... stench... no, strength. We fear Mormont slain with all his strength...\\\" Davos suddenly realized just what he was reading. He turned the letter over, and saw that the wax that had sealed it had been black. \\\"This is from the Night's Watch. Maester, has King Stannis seen this letter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I brought it to Lord Alester when it first arrived. He was the Hand then. I believed he discussed it with the queen. When I asked him if he wished to send a reply, he told me not to be a fool. \\\"His Grace lacks the men to fight his own battles, he has none to waste on wildlings,\\\" he said tome.\\\"\\n\\nThat was true enough. And this talk of five kings would certainly have angered Stannis. \\\"Only a starving man begs bread from a beggar,\\\" he muttered.\\n\\n\\\"Pardon, my lord?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Something my wife said once.\\\" Davos drummed his shortened fingers against the tabletop. The first time he had seen the Wall he had been younger than Devan, serving aboard the Cobblecat under Roro Uhoris, a Tyroshi known up and down the narrow sea as the Blind Bastard, though he was neither blind nor baseborn. Roro had sailed past Skagos into the Shivering Sea, visiting a hundred little coves that had never seen a trading ship before. He brought steel; swords, axes, helms, good chainmail hauberks, to trade for furs, ivory, amber, and obsidian. When the Cobblecat turned back south her holds were stuffed, but in the Bay of Seals three black galleys came out to herd her into Eastwatch. They lost their cargo and the Bastard lost his head, for the crime of trading weapons to the wildlings.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Davos had traded at Eastwatch in his smuggling days. The black brothers made hard enemies but good customers, fora ship with the right cargo. But while he might have taken their coin, he had never forgotten how the Blind Bastard's head had rolled across the Cobblecat's deck. \\\"I met some wildlings when I was a boy,\\\" he told Maester Pylos. \\\"They were fair thieves but bad hagglers. One made off with our cabin girl. All in all, they seemed men like any other men, some fair, some foul.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Men are men,\\\" Maester Pylos agreed. \\\"Shall we return to our reading, my lord Hand?\\\"\\n\\nI am the Hand of the King, yes. Stannis might be the King of Westeros in name, but in truth he was the King of the Painted Table. He held Dragonstone and Storm's End, and had an ever-more-uneasy alliance with Salladhor Saan, but that was all. How could the Watch have looked to him for help? They may not know how weak he is, how lost his cause. \\\"King Stannis never saw this letter, you are quite certain? Nor Melisandre?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. Should I bring it to them? Even now?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Davos said at once. \\\"You did your duty when you brought it to Lord Alester.\\\" If Melisandre knew of this letter... What was it she had said? One whose name may not bespoken is marshaling his power, Davos Seaworth. Soon comes the cold, and the night that never ends... And Stannis had seen a vision in the flames, a ring of torches in the snow with terror all around.\\n\\n\\\"My lord, are you unwell?\\\" asked Pylos.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I am frightened, Maester, he might have said. Davos was remembering a tale Salladhor Saan had told him, of how Azor Ahai tempered Lightbringer by thrusting it through the heart of the wife he loved. He slew his wife to fight the dark. If Stannis is Azor Ahai come again, does that mean Edric Storm must play the part of Nissa Nissa? \\\"I was thinking, Maester. My pardons.\\\" What harm if some wildling king conquers the north? It was not as though Stannis held the north. His Grace could scarcely be expected to defend people who refused to acknowledge him asking. \\\"Give me another letter,\\\" he said abruptly. \\\"This one is too...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"... difficult?\\\" suggested Pylos.\\n\\nSoon comes the cold, whispered Melisandre, and the night that never ends. \\\"Troubling,\\\" said Davos. \\\"Too... troubling. A different letter, please.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"JON\\n\\nThey woke to the smoke of Mole's Town burning.\\n\\nAtop the King's Tower, Jon Snow leaned on the padded crutch that Maester Aemon had given him and watched the grey plume rise. Styr had lost all hope of taking Castle Black unawares when Jon escaped him, yet even so, he need not have warned of his approach so bluntly. You may kill us, he reflected, but no one will be butchered in their beds. That much I did, at least.\\n\\nHis leg still hurt like blazes when he put his weight on it. He'd needed Clydas to help him don his fresh-washed blacks and lace up his boots that morning, and by the time they were done he'd wanted to drown himself in the milk of the poppy. Instead he had settled for half a cup of dreamwine, a chew of willow bark, and the crutch. The beacon was burning on Weatherback Ridge, and the Night's Watch had need of every man.\\n\\n\\\"I can fight,\\\" he insisted when they tried to stop him.\\n\\n\\\"Your leg's healed, is it?\\\" Noye snorted. \\\"You won't mind me giving it a little kick, then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'd sooner you didn't. It's stiff, but I can hobble around well enough, and stand and fight if you have need of me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have need of every man who knows which end of the spear to stab into the wildlings.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The pointy end.\\\" Jon had told his little sister something like that once, he remembered.\\n\\nNoye rubbed the bristle on his chin. \\\"Might be you'll do. We'll put you on a tower with a longbow, but if you bloody well falloff don't come crying tome.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He could seethe kingsroad wending its way south through stony brown fields and over windswept hills. The Magnar would becoming up that road before the day was done, his Thenns marching behind him with axes and spears in their hands and their bronze-and-leather shields on their backs. Grigg the Goat, Quort, Big Boil, and the rest will becoming as well. And Ygritte. The wildlings had never been his friends, he had not allowed them to be his friends, but her...\\n\\nHe could feel the throb of pain where her arrow had gone through the meat and muscle of his thigh. He remembered the old man's eyes too, and the black blood rushing from his throat as the storm cracked overhead. But he remembered the grotto best of all, the look of her naked in the torchlight, the taste of her mouth when it opened under his. Ygritte, stay away. Go south and raid, go hide in one of those roundtowers you liked so well. You'll find nothing here but death.\\n\\nAcross the yard, one of the bowmen on the roof of the old Flint Barracks had unlaced his breeches and was pissing through a crenel. Mully, he knew from the man's greasy orange hair. Men in black cloaks were visible on other roofs and tower tops as well, though nine of every ten happened to be made of straw. \\\"The scarecrow sentinels,\\\" Donal Noye called them. Only we're the crows, Jon mused, and most of us were scared enough.\\n\\nWhatever you called them, the straw soldiers had been Maester Aemon's notion. They had more breeches and jerkins and tunics in the storerooms than they'd had men to fill them, so why not stuff some with straw, drape a cloak around their shoulders, and set them to standing watches? Noye had placed them on every tower and in half the windows. Some were even clutching spears, or had crossbows cocked under their arms. The hope was that the Thenns would see them from afar and decide that Castle Black was too well defended to attack.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jon had six scarecrows sharing the roof of the King's Tower with him, along with two actual breathing brothers. Deaf Dick Follard satin a crenel, methodically cleaning and oiling the mechanism of his crossbow to make sure the wheel turned smoothly, while the Oldtown boy wandered restlessly around the parapets, fussing with the clothes on straw men. Maybe he thinks they will fight better if they're posed just right. Or maybe this waiting is fraying his nerves the way it's fraying mine.\\n\\nThe boy claimed to be eighteen, older than Jon, but he was green as summer grass for all that. Satin, they called him, even in the wool and mail and boiled leather of the Night's Watch; the name he'd gotten in the brothel where he'd been born and raised. He was pretty as a girl with his dark eyes, soft skin, and raven's ringlets. Half a year at Castle Black had toughened up his hands, however, and Noye said he was passable with a crossbow. Whether he had the courage to face what was coming, though...\\n\\nJon used the crutch to limp across the tower top. The King's Tower was not the castle's tallest-the high, slim, crumbling Lance held that honor, though Othell Yarwyck had been heard to say it might topple any day. Nor was the King's Tower strongest-the Tower of Guards beside the kingsroad would be a tougher nut to crack. But it was tall enough, strong enough, and well placed beside the Wall, overlooking the gate and the foot of the wooden stair.\\n\\nThe first time he had seen Castle Black with his own eyes, Jon had wondered why anyone would be so foolish as to build a castle without walls. How could it be defended?\\n\\n\\\"It can't,\\\" his uncle told him. \\\"That is the point. The Night's Watch is pledged to take no part in the quarrels of the realm. Yet over the centuries certain Lords Commander, more proud than wise, forgot their vows and near destroyed us all with their ambitions. Lord Commander Runcel Hightower tried to bequeathe the Watch to his bastard son. Lord Commander Rodrik Flint thought to make himself King-beyond-the-Wall. Tristan Mudd, Mad Marq Rankenfell, Robin Hill... did you know that six hundred years ago, the commanders at Snowgate and the Nightfort went to war against each other? And when the Lord Commander tried to stop them, they joined forces to murder him? The Stark in Winterfell had to take a hand... and both their heads. Which he did easily, because their strongholds were not defensible. The Night's Watch had nine hundred and ninety-six Lords Commander before Jeor Mormont, most of them men of courage and honor... but we have had cowards and fools as well, our tyrants and our madmen. We survive because the lords and kings of the Seven Kingdoms know that we pose no threat to them, no matter who should lead us. Our only foes are to the north, and to the north we have the Wall.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Only now those foes have gotten past the Wall to come up from the south, Jon reflected, and the lords and kings of the Seven Kingdoms have forgotten us. We are caught between the hammer and the anvil. Without a wall Castle Black could not beheld; Donal Noye knew that as well as any. \\\"The castle does them no good,\\\" the armorer told his little garrison. \\\"Kitchens, common hall, stables, even the towers... let them take it all. We'll empty the armory and move what stores we canto the top of the Wall, and make our stand around the gate.\\\"\\n\\nSo Castle Black had a wall of sorts at last, a crescent-shaped barricade ten feet high made of stores; casks of nails and barrels of salt mutton, crates, bales of black broadcloth, stacked logs, sawn timbers, fire-hardened stakes, and sacks and sacks of grain. The crude rampart enclosed the two things most worth defending; the gate to the north, and the foot of the great wooden switchback stair that clawed and climbed its way up the face of the Wall like a drunken thunderbolt, supported by wooden beams as big as tree trunks driven deep into the ice.\\n\\nThe last few moles were still making the long climb, Jon saw, urged on by his brothers. Grenn was carrying a little boy in his arms, while Pyp, two flights below, let an old man lean upon his shoulder. The oldest villagers still waited below for the cage to make its way back down to them. He saw a mother pulling along two children, one on either hand, as an older boy ran past her up the steps. Two hundred feet above them, Sky Blue Su and Lady Meliana (who was no lady, all her friends agreed) stood on a landing, looking south. They had a better view of the smoke than he did, no doubt. Jon wondered about the villagers who had chosen not to flee. There were always a few, too stubborn or too stupid or too brave to run, a few who preferred to fight or hide or bend the knee. Maybe the Thenns would spare them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The thing to do would be to take the attack to them, he thought. With fifty rangers well mounted, we could cut them apart on the road. They did not have fifty rangers, though, nor half as many horses. The garrison had not returned, and there was noway to know just where they were, or even whether the riders that Noye had sent out had reached them.\\n\\nWe are the garrison, Jon told himself, and look at us. The brothers Bowen Marsh had left behind were old men, cripples, and green boys, just as Donal Noye had warned him. He could see some wrestling barrels up the steps, others on the barricade; stout old Kegs, as slow as ever, Spare Boot hopping along briskly on his carved wooden leg, half-mad Easy who fancied himself Florian the Fool reborn, Dornish Dilly, Red Alyn of the Rosewood, Young Henly (well past fifty), Old Henly (well past seventy), Hairy Hal, Spotted Pate of Maidenpool. A couple of them saw Jon looking down from atop the King's Tower and waved up at him. Others turned away. They still think me a turncloak. That was a bitter draft to drink, but Jon could not blame them. He was a bastard, after all. Everyone knew that bastards were wanton and treacherous by nature, having been born of lust and deceit. And he had made as many enemies as friends at Castle Black... Rast, for one. Jon had once threatened to have Ghost rip his throat out unless he stopped tormenting Samwell Tarly, and Rast did not forget things like that. He was raking dry leaves into piles under the stairs just now, but every so often he stopped long enough to give Jon a nasty look.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No,\\\" Donal Noye roared at three of the Mole's Town men, down below. \\\"The pitch goes to the hoist, the oil up the steps, crossbow bolts to the fourth, fifth, and sixth landings, spears to first and second. Stack the lard under the stair, yes, there, behind the planks. The casks of meat are for the barricade. Now, you poxy plow pushers, NOW!\\\"\\n\\nHe has a lord's voice, Jon thought. His father had always said that in battle a captain's lungs were as important as his sword arm. \\\"It does not matter how brave or brilliant a man is, if his commands cannot be heard,\\\" Lord Eddard told his sons, so Robb and he used to climb the towers of Winterfell to shout at each other across the yard. Donal Noye could have drowned out both of them. The moles all went in terror of him, and rightfully so, since he was always threatening to rip their heads off.\\n\\nThree-quarters of the village had taken Jon's warning to heart and come to Castle Black for refuge. Noye had decreed that every man still spry enough to hold a spear or swing an axe would help defend the barricade, else they could damn well go home and take their chances with the Thenns. He had emptied the armory to put good steel in their hands; big double-bladed axes, razor-sharp daggers, longswords, maces, spiked morningstars. Clad in studded leather jerkins and mail hauberks, with greaves for their legs and gorgets to keep their heads on their shoulders, a few of them even looked like soldiers. Ina bad light. If you squint.\\n\\nNoye had put the women and children to work as well. Those too young to fight would carry water and tend the fires, the Mole's Town midwife would assist Clydas and Maester Aemon with any wounded, and Three-Finger Hobb suddenly had more spit boys, kettle stirrers, and onion choppers than he knew what to do with. Two of the whores had even offered to fight, and had shown enough skill with the crossbow to be given a place on the steps forty feet up.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It's cold.\\\" Satin stood with his hands tucked into his armpits under his cloak. His cheeks were bright red.\\n\\nJon made himself smile. \\\"The Frostfangs are cold. This is a brisk autumn day.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hope I never seethe Frostfangs then. I knew a girl in Oldtown who liked to ice her wine. That's the best place for ice, I think. In wine.\\\" Satin glanced south, frowned. \\\"You think the scarecrow sentinels scared them off, my lord?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We can hope.\\\" It was possible, Jon supposed... but more likely the wildlings had simply paused fora bit of rape and plunder in Mole's Town. Or maybe Styr was waiting for nightfall, to move up undercover of darkness.\\n\\nMidday came and went, with still no sign of Thenns on the kingsroad. Jon heard footsteps inside the tower, though, and Owen the Oaf popped up out of the trapdoor, red-faced from the climb. He had a basket of buns under one arm, a wheel of cheese under the other, a bag of onions dangling from one hand. \\\"Hobb said to feed you, in case you're stuck up here awhile.\\\"\\n\\nThat, or for our last meal. \\\"Thank him for us, Owen.\\\"\\n\\nDick Follard was deaf as a stone, but his nose worked well enough. The buns were still warm from the oven when he went digging in the basket and plucked one out. He found a crock of butter as well, and spread some with his dagger. \\\"Raisins,\\\" he announced happily. \\\"Nuts, too.\\\" His speech was thick, but easy enough to understand once you got used to it.\\n\\n\\\"You can have mine too,\\\" said Satin. \\\"I'm not hungry.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Eat,\\\" Jon told him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There's no knowing when you'll have another chance.\\\" He took two buns himself. The nuts were pine nuts, and besides the raisins there were bits of dried apple.\\n\\n\\\"Will the wildlings come today, Lord Snow?\\\" Owen asked.\\n\\n\\\"You'll know if they do,\\\" said Jon. \\\"Listen for the horns.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Two. Two is for wildlings.\\\" Owen was tall, towheaded, and amiable, a tireless worker and surprisingly deft when it came to working wood and fixing catapults and the like, but as he'd gladly tell you, his mother had dropped him on his head when he was a baby, and half his wits had leaked out through his ear.\\n\\n\\\"You remember whereto go?\\\" Jon asked him.\\n\\n\\\"I'm to go to the stairs, Donal Noye says. I'm to go up to the third landing and shoot my crossbow down at the wildlings if they try to climb over the barrier. The third landing, one two three.\\\" His head bobbed up and down. \\\"If the wildlings attack, the king will come and help us, won't he? He's a mighty warrior, King Robert. He's sure to come. Maester Aemon sent him a bird.\\\"\\n\\nThere was no use telling him that Robert Baratheon was dead. He would forget it, as he'd forgotten it before. \\\"Maester Aemon sent him a bird,\\\" Jon agreed. That seemed to make Owen happy.\\n\\nMaester Aemon had sent a lot of birds... not to one king, but to four. Wildlings at the gate, the message ran. The realm in danger. Send all the help you canto Castle Black. Even as far as Oldtown and the Citadel the ravens flew, and to half a hundred mighty lords in their castles. The northern lords offered their best hope, so to them Aemon had sent two birds. To the Umbers and the Boltons, to Castle Cerwyn and Torrhen's Square, Karhold and Deepwood Motte, to Bear Island, Oldcastle, Widow's Watch, White Harbor, Barrowton, and the Rills, to the mountain fastnesses of the Liddles, the Burleys, the Norreys, the Harclays, and the Wulls, the blackbirds brought their plea. Wildlings at the gate. The north in danger. Come with all your strength.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Well, ravens might have wings, but lords and kings do not. If help was coming, it would not come today.\\n\\nAs morning turned to afternoon, the smoke of Mole's Town blew away and the southern sky was clear again. No clouds, thought Jon. That was good. Rain or snow could doom them all.\\n\\nClydas and Maester Aemon rode the winch cage up to safety at the top of the Wall, and most of the Mole's Town wives as well. Men in black cloaks paced restlessly on the tower tops and shouted back and forth across the courtyards. Septon Cellador led the men on the barricade in a prayer, beseeching the Warrior to give them strength. Deaf Dick Follard curled up beneath his cloak and went to sleep. Satin walked a hundred leagues in circles, round and round the crenellations. The Wall wept and the sun crept across a hard blue sky. Near evenfall, Owen the Oaf returned with a loaf of black bread and a pail of Hobb's best mutton, cooked in a thick broth of ale and onions. Even Dick woke up for that. They ate every bit of it, using chunks of bread to wipe the bottom of the pail. By the time they were done the sun was low in the west, the shadows sharp and black throughout the castle. \\\"Light the fire,\\\" Jon told Satin, \\\"and fill the kettle with oil.\\\"\\n\\nHe went downstairs himself to bar the door, to try and work some of the stiffness from his leg. That was a mistake, and Jon soon knew it, but he clutched the crutch and saw it through all the same. The door to the King's Tower was oak studded with iron. It might delay the Thenns, but it would not stop them if they wanted to come in. Jon slammed the bar down in its notches, paid a visit to the privy-it might well be his last chance-and hobbled backup to the roof, grimacing at the pain.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The west had gone the color of a blood bruise, but the sky above was cobalt blue, deepening to purple, and the stars were coming out.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jon sat between two merlons with only a scarecrow for company and watched the Stallion gallop up the sky. Or was it the Horned Lord? He wondered where Ghost was now. He wondered about Ygritte as well, and told himself that waylay madness.\\n\\nThey came in the night, of course. Like thieves, Jon thought. Like murderers.\\n\\nSatin pissed himself when the horns blew, but Jon pretended not to notice. \\\"Go shake Dick by the shoulder,\\\" he told the Oldtown boy, \\\"else he's liable to sleep through the fight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm frightened.\\\" Satin's face was a ghastly white.\\n\\n\\\"So are they.\\\" Jon leaned his crutch up against a merlon and took up his longbow, bending the smooth thick Dornish yew to slip a bowstring through the notches. \\\"Don't waste a quarrel unless you know you have a good clean shot,\\\" he said when Satin returned from waking Dick. \\\"We have an ample supply up here, but ample doesn't mean inexhaustible. And step behind a merlon to reload, don't try and hide in back of a scarecrow. They're made of straw, an arrow will punch through them.\\\" He did not bother telling Dick Follard anything. Dick could read your lips if there was enough light and he gave a damn what you were saying, but he knew it all already.\\n\\nThe three of them took up positions on three sides of the round tower. Jon hung a quiver from his belt and pulled an arrow. The shaft was black, the fletching grey. Ashe notched it to his string, he remembered something that Theon Greyjoy had once said after a hunt. \\\"The boar can keep his tusks and the bear his claws,\\\" he had declared, smiling that way he did. \\\"There's nothing half so mortal as a grey goose feather.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jon had never been half the hunter that Theon was, but he was no stranger to the longbow either. There were dark shapes slipping around the armory, backs against the stone, but he could not see them well enough to waste an arrow. He heard distant shouts, and saw the archers on the Tower of Guards loosing shafts at the ground. That was too far off to concern Jon. But when he glimpsed three shadows detach themselves from the old stables fifty yards away, he stepped up to the crenel, raised his bow, and drew. They were running, so he led them, waiting, waiting...\\n\\nThe arrow made a soft hiss as it left his string. A moment later there was a grunt, and suddenly only two shadows were loping across the yard. They ran all the faster, but Jon had already pulled a second arrow from his quiver. This time he hurried the shot too much, and missed. The wildlings were gone by the time he nocked again. He searched for another target, and found four, rushing around the empty shell of the Lord Commander's Keep. The moonlight glimmered off their spears and axes, and the gruesome devices on their round leathern shields; skulls and bones, serpents, bear claws, twisted demonic faces. Free folk, he knew. The Thenns carried shields of black boiled leather with bronze rims and bosses, but theirs were plain and unadorned. These were the lighter wicker shields of raiders.\\n\\nJon pulled the goose feather back to his ear, aimed, and loosed the arrow, then nocked and drew and loosed again. The first shaft pierced the bearclaw shield, the second one a throat. The wildling screamed as he went down. He heard the deep thrum of Deaf Dick's crossbow to his left, and Satin's a moment later. \\\"I got one!\\\" the boy cried hoarsely. \\\"I got one in the chest.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Get another,\\\" Jon called.\\n\\nHe did not have to search for targets now; only choose them. He dropped a wildling archer as he was fitting an arrow to his string, then sent a shaft toward the axeman hacking at the door of Hardin's Tower. That time he missed, but the arrow quivering in the oak made the wildling reconsider. It was only as he was running off that Jon recognized Big Boil. Half a heartbeat later, old Mully put an arrow through his leg from the roof of the Flint Barracks, and he crawled off bleeding. That will stop him bitching about his boil, Jon thought.\\n\\nWhen his quiver was empty, he went to get another, and moved to a different crenel, side by side with Deaf Dick Follard. Jon got off three arrows for every bolt Deaf Dick discharged, but that was the advantage of the longbow. The crossbow penetrated better, some insisted, but it was slow and cumbersome to reload. He could hear the wildlings shouting to each other, and somewhere to the west a warhorn blew. The world was moonlight and shadow, and time became an endless round of notch and draw and loose. A wildling arrow ripped through the throat of the straw sentinel beside him, but Jon Snow scarcely noticed. Give me one clean shot at the Magnar of Thenn, he prayed to his father's gods. The Magnar at least was a foe that he could hate. Give me Styr.\\n\\nHis fingers were growing stiff and his thumb was bleeding, but still Jon notched and drew and loosed. A gout of flame caught his eye, and he turned to seethe door of the common hall afire. It was only a few moments before the whole great timbered hall was burning. Three-Finger Hobb and his Mole's Town helpers were safe atop the Wall, he knew, but it felt like a punch in the belly all the same. \\\"JON,\\\" Deaf Dick yelled in his thick voice, \\\"the armory.\\\" They were on the roof, he saw. One had a torch. Dick hopped upon the crenel fora better shot, jerked his crossbow to his shoulder, and sent a quarrel thrumming toward the torch man. He missed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The archer down below him didn't.\\n\\nFollard never made a sound, only toppled forward headlong over the parapet. It was a hundred feet to the yard below. Jon heard the thump as he was peering round a straw soldier, trying to see where the arrow had come from. Not ten feet from Deaf Dick's body, he glimpsed a leather shield, a ragged cloak, a mop of thick red hair. Kissed by fire, he thought, lucky. He brought his bow up, but his fingers would not part, and she was gone as suddenly as she'd appeared. He swiveled, cursing, and loosed a shaft at the men on the armory roof instead, but he missed them as well.\\n\\nBy then the east stables were afire too, black smoke and wisps of burning hay pouring from the stalls. When the roof collapsed, flames rose up roaring, so loud they almost drowned out the warhorns of the Thenns. Fifty of them were pounding up the kingsroad in tight column, their shields held up above their heads. Others were swarming through the vegetable garden, across the flagstone yard, around the old dry well. Three had hacked their way through the doors of Maester Aemon's apartments in the timber keep below the rookery, and a desperate fight was going on atop the Silent Tower, longswords against bronze axes. None of that mattered. The dance has moved on, he thought.\\n\\nJon hobbled across to Satin and grabbed him by the shoulder. \\\"With me,\\\" he shouted. Together they moved to the north parapet, where the King's Tower looked down on the gate and Donal Noye's makeshift wall of logs and barrels and sacks of corn. The Thenns were there before them. They wore halfhelms, and had thin bronze disks sewn to their long leather shirts. Many wielded bronze axes, though a few were chipped stone. More had short stabbing spears with leaf-shaped heads that gleamed redly in the light from the burning stables. They were screaming in the Old Tongue as they stormed the barricade, jabbing with their spears, swinging their bronze axes, spilling corn and blood with equal abandon while crossbow quarrels and arrows rained down on them from the archers that Donal Noye had posted on the stair.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What do we do?\\\" Satin shouted.\\n\\n\\\"We kill them,\\\" Jon shouted back, a black arrow in his hand.\\n\\nNo archer could have asked for an easier shot. The Thenns had their backs to the King's Tower as they charged the crescent, clambering over bags and barrels to reach the men in black. Both Jon and Satin chanced to choose the same target. He had just reached the top of the barricade when an arrow sprouted from his neck and a quarrel between his shoulder blades. Half a heartbeat later a longsword took him in the belly and he fell back onto the man behind him. Jon reached down to his quiver and found it empty again. Satin was winding back his crossbow. He left him to it and went for more arrows, but he hadn't taken more than three steps before the trap slammed open three feet in front of him. Bloody hell, I never even heard the door break.\\n\\nThere was no time to think or plan or shout for help. Jon dropped his bow, reached back over his shoulder, ripped Longclaw from its sheath, and buried the blade in the middle of the first head to pop out of the tower. Bronze was no match for Valyrian steel. The blow sheared right through the Thenn's helm and deep into his skull, and he went crashing back down where he'd come from. There were more behind him, Jon knew from the shouting. He fell back and called to Satin. The next man to make the climb got a quarrel through his cheek. He vanished too. \\\"The oil,\\\" Jon said. Satin nodded. Together they snatched up the thick quilted pads they'd left beside the fire, lifted the heavy kettle of boiling oil, and dumped it down the hole on the Thenns below. The shrieks were as bad as anything he had ever heard, and Satin looked as though he was going to be sick. Jon kicked the trapdoor shut, set the heavy iron kettle on top of it, and gave the boy with the pretty face a hard shake. \\\"Retch later,\\\" Jon yelled. \\\"Come.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They had only been gone from the parapets fora few moments, but everything below had changed. A dozen black brothers and a few Mole's Town men still stood atop the crates and barrels, but the wildlings were swarming overall along the crescent, pushing them back. Jon saw one shove his spear up through Rast's belly so hard he lifted him into the air. Young Henly was dead and Old Henly was dying, surrounded by foes. He could see Easy spinning and slashing, laughing like a loon, his cloak flapping as he leapt from cask to cask. A bronze axe caught him just below the knee and the laughter turned into a bubbling shriek.\\n\\n\\\"They're breaking,\\\" Satin said.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" said Jon, \\\"they're broken.\\\"\\n\\nIt happened quickly. One mole fled and then another, and suddenly all the villagers were throwing down their weapons and abandoning the barricade. The brothers were too few to hold alone. Jon watched them try and form a line to fallback in order, but the Thenns washed over them with spear and axe, and then they were fleeing too. Dornish Dilly slipped and went down on his face, and a wildling planted a spear between his shoulder blades. Kegs, slow and short of breath, had almost reached the bottom step when a Thenn caught the end of his cloak and yanked him around... but a crossbow quarrel dropped the man before his axe could fall. \\\"Got him,\\\" Satin crowed, as Kegs staggered to the stair and began to crawl up the stepson hands and knees.\\n\\nThe gate is lost. Donal Noye had closed and chained it, but it was therefor the taking, the iron bars glimmering red with reflected firelight, the cold black tunnel behind. No one had fallen back to defend it; the only safety was on top of the Wall, seven hundred feet up the crooked wooden stairs.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What gods do you pray to?\\\" Jon asked Satin.\\n\\n\\\"The Seven,\\\" the boy from Oldtown said.\\n\\n\\\"Pray, then,\\\" Jon told him. \\\"Pray to your new gods, and I'll pray to my old ones.\\\" It all turned here.\\n\\nWith the confusion at the trapdoor, Jon had forgotten to fill his quiver. He limped back across the roof and did that now, and picked up his bow as well. The kettle had not moved from where he'd left it, so it seemed as though they were safe enough for the nonce. The dance has moved on, and we're watching from the gallery, he thought as he hobbled back. Satin was loosing quarrels at the wildlings on the steps, then ducking down behind a merlon to cock the crossbow. He maybe pretty, but he's quick.\\n\\nThe real battle was on the steps. Noye had put spearmen on the two lowest landings, but the headlong flight of the villagers had panicked them and they had joined the flight, racing up toward the third landing with the Thenns killing anyone who fell behind. The archers and crossbowmen on the higher landings were trying to drop shafts over their heads. Jon nocked an arrow, drew, and loosed, and was pleased when one of the wildlings went rolling down the steps. The heat of the fires was making the Wall weep, and the flames danced and shimmered against the ice. The steps shook to the footsteps of men running for their lives.\\n\\nAgain Jon notched and drew and loosed, but there was only one of him and one of Satin, and a good sixty or seventy Thenns pounding up the stairs, killing as they went, drunk on victory. On the fourth landing, three brothers in black cloaks stood shoulder to shoulder with longswords in their hands, and battle was joined again, briefly. But there were only three and soon enough the wildling tide washed over them, and their blood dripped down the steps. \\\"A man is never so vulnerable in battle as when he flees,\\\" Lord Eddard had told Jon once. \\\"A running man is like a wounded animal to a soldier. It gets his bloodlust up.\\\" The archers on the fifth landing fled before the battle even reached them. It was a rout, a red rout.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Fetch the torches,\\\" Jon told Satin. There were four of them stacked beside the fire, their heads wrapped in oily rags. There were a dozen fire arrows too. The Oldtown boy thrust one torch into the fire until it was blazing brightly, and brought the rest back under his arm, unlit. He looked frightened again, as well he might. Jon was frightened too.\\n\\nIt was then that he saw Styr. The Magnar was climbing up the barricade, over the gutted corn sacks and smashed barrels and the bodies of friends and foe alike. His bronze scale armor gleamed darkly in the firelight. Styr had taken off his helm to survey the scene of his triumph, and the bald earless whoreson was smiling. In his hand was along weirwood spear with an ornate bronze head. When he saw the gate, he pointed the spear at it and barked something in the Old Tongue to the half-dozen Thenns around him. Too late, Jon thought. You should have led your men over the barricade, you might have been able to save a few.\\n\\nUp above, a warhorn sounded, long and low. Not from the top of the Wall, but from the ninth landing, some two hundred feet up, where Donal Noye was standing.\\n\\nJon notched afire arrow to his bowstring, and Satin lit it from the torch. He stepped to the parapet, drew, aimed, loosed. Ribbons of flame trailed behind as the shaft sped downward and thudded into its target, crackling.\\n\\nNot Styr. The steps. Or more precisely, the casks and kegs and sacks that Donal Noye had piled up beneath the steps, as high as the first landing; the barrels of lard and lamp oil, the bags of leaves and oily rags, the split logs, bark, and wood shavings. \\\"Again,\\\" said Jon, and, \\\"Again,\\\" and, \\\"Again.\\\" Other longbowmen were firing too, from every tower top in range, some sending their arrows up in high arcs to drop before the Wall. When Jon ran out of fire arrows, he and Satin began to light the torches and fling them from the crenels.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Up above another fire was blooming.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The old wooden steps had drunk up oil like a sponge, and Donal Noye had drenched them from the ninth landing all the way down to the seventh. Jon could only hope that most of their own people had staggered up to safety before Noye threw the torches. The black brothers at least had known the plan, but the villagers had not.\\n\\nWind and fire did the rest. All Jon had to do was watch. With flames below and flames above, the wildlings had nowhere to go. Some continued upward, and died. Some went downward, and died. Some stayed where they were. They died as well. Many leapt from the steps before they burned, and died from the fall. Twenty-odd Thenns were still huddled together between the fires when the ice cracked from the heat, and the whole lower third of the stair broke off, along with several tons of ice. That was the last that Jon Snow saw of Styr, the Magnar of Thenn. The Wall defends itself, he thought.\\n\\nJon asked Satin to help him down to the yard. His wounded leg hurt so badly that he could hardly walk, even with the crutch. \\\"Bring the torch,\\\" he told the boy from Oldtown. \\\"I need to look for someone.\\\" It had been mostly Thenns on the steps. Surely some of the free folk had escaped. Mance's people, not the Magnar's. She might have been one. So they climbed down past the bodies of the men who'd tried the trapdoor, and Jon wandered through the dark with his crutch under one arm, and the other around the shoulders of a boy who'd been a whore in Oldtown.\\n\\nThe stables and the common hall had burned down to smoking cinders by then, but the fire still raged along the wall, climbing step by step and landing by landing. From time to time they'd hear a groan and then a craaaack, and another chunk would come crashing off the Wall. The air was full of ash and ice crystals.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He found Quort dead, and Stone Thumbs dying. He found some dead and dying Thenns he had never truly known. He found Big Boil, weak from all the blood he'd lost but still alive.\\n\\nHe found Ygritte sprawled across a patch of old snow beneath the Lord Commander's Tower, with an arrow between her breasts. The ice crystals had settled over her face, and in the moonlight it looked as though she wore a glittering silver mask.\\n\\nThe arrow was black, Jon saw, but it was fletched with white duck feathers. Not mine, he told himself, not one of mine. But he felt as if it were.\\n\\nWhen he knelt in the snow beside her, her eyes opened. \\\"Jon Snow,\\\" she said, very softly. It sounded as though the arrow had found a lung. \\\"Is this a proper castle now? Not just a tower?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is.\\\" Jon took her hand.\\n\\n\\\"Good,\\\" she whispered. \\\"I wanted t' see one proper castle, before... before I...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You'll see a hundred castles,\\\" he promised her. \\\"The battle's done. Maester Aemon will see to you.\\\" He touched her hair. \\\"You're kissed by fire, remember? Lucky. It will take more than an arrow to kill you. Aemon will draw it out and patch you up, and we'll get you some milk of the poppy for the pain.\\\"\\n\\nShe just smiled at that. \\\"D'you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave. I told you so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We'll go back to the cave,\\\" he said. \\\"You're not going to die, Ygritte. You're not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh.\\\" Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. \\\"You know nothing, Jon Snow,\\\" she sighed, dying.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"BRAN\\n\\nIt is only another empty castle,\\\" Meera Reed said as she gazed across the desolation of rubble, ruins, and weeds.\\n\\nNo, thought Bran, it is the Nightfort, and this is the end of the world. In the mountains, all he could think of was reaching the Wall and finding the three-eyed crow, but now that they were here he was filled with fears. The dream he'd had... the dream Summer had had... No, I mustn't think about that dream. He had not even told the Reeds, though Meera at least seemed to sense that something was wrong. If he never talked of it maybe he could forget he ever dreamed it, and then it wouldn't have happened and Robb and Grey Wind would still be...\\n\\n\\\"Hodor.\\\" Hodor shifted his weight, and Bran with it. He was tired. They had been walking for hours. At least he's not afraid. Bran was scared of this place, and almost as scared of admitting it to the Reeds. I'm a prince of the north, a Stark of Winterfell, almost a man grown, I have to be as brave as Robb.\\n\\nJojen gazed up at him with his dark green eyes. \\\"There's nothing hereto hurt us, Your Grace.\\\"\\n\\nBran wasn't so certain. The Nightfort had figured in some of Old Nan's scariest stories. It was here that Night's King had reigned, before his name was wiped from the memory of man. This was where the Rat Cook had served the Andal king his prince-and-bacon pie, where the seventy-nine sentinels stood their watch, where brave young Danny Flint had been raped and murdered. This was the castle where King Sherrit had called down his curse on the Andals of old, where the'prentice boys had faced the thing that came in the night, where blind Symeon Star-Eyes had seen the hellhounds fighting. Mad Axe had once walked these yards and climbed these towers, butchering his brothers in the dark.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"All that had happened hundreds and thousands of years ago, to be sure, and some maybe never happened at all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Maester Luwin always said that Old Nan's stories shouldn't be swallowed whole. But once his uncle came to see Father, and Bran asked about the Nightfort. Benjen Stark never said the tales were true, but he never said they weren't; he only shrugged and said, \\\"We left the Nightfort two hundred years ago,\\\" as if that was an answer.\\n\\nBran forced himself to look around. The morning was cold but bright, the sun shining down from a hard blue sky, but he did not like the noises. The wind made a nervous whistling sound as it shivered through the broken towers, the keeps groaned and settled, and he could hear rats scrabbling under the floor of the great hall. The Rat Cook's children running from their father. The yards were small forests where spindly trees rubbed their bare branches together and dead leaves scuttled like roaches across patches of old snow. There were trees growing where the stables had been, and a twisted white weirwood pushing up through the gaping hole in the roof of the domed kitchen. Even Summer was not at ease here. Bran slipped inside his skin, just for an instant, to get the smell of the place. He did not like that either.\\n\\nAnd there was noway through.\\n\\nBran had told them there wouldn't be. He had told them and told them, but Jojen Reed had insisted on seeing for himself. He had had a green dream, he said, and his green dreams did not lie. They don't open any gates either, thought Bran.\\n\\nThe gate the Nightfort guarded had been sealed since the day the black brothers had loaded up their mules and garrons and departed for Deep Lake; its iron portcullis lowered, the chains that raised it carried off, the tunnel packed with stone and rubble all frozen together until they were as impenetrable as the Wall itself. \\\"We should have followed Jon,\\\" Bran said when he saw it. He thought of his bastard brother often, since the night that Summer had watched him ride off through the storm. \\\"We should have found the kingsroad and gone to Castle Black.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We dare not, my prince,\\\" Jojen said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I've told you why.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But there are wildlings. They killed some man and they wanted to kill Jon too. Jojen, there were a hundred of them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So you said. We are four. You helped your brother, if that was him in truth, but it almost cost you Summer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know,\\\" said Bran miserably. The direwolf had killed three of them, maybe more, but there had been too many. When they formed a tight ring around the tall earless man, he had tried to slip away through the rain, but one of their arrows had come flashing after him, and the sudden stab of pain had driven Bran out of the wolf's skin and back into his own. After the storm finally died, they had huddled in the dark without afire, talking in whispers if they talked at all, listening to Hodor's heavy breathing and wondering if the wildlings might try and cross the lake in the morning. Bran had reached out for Summertime and time again, but the pain he found drove him back, the way a red-hot kettle makes you pull your hand back even when you mean to grab it. Only Hodor slept that night, muttering'Hodor, hodor,\\\" as he tossed and turned. Bran was terrified that Summer was off dying in the darkness. Please, you old gods, he prayed, you took Winterfell, and my father, and my legs, please don't take Summer too. And watch over Jon Snow too, and make the wildlings go away.\\n\\nNo weirwoods grew on that stony island in the lake, yet somehow the old gods must have heard. The wildlings took their sweet time about departing the next morning, stripping the bodies of their dead and the old man they'd killed, even pulling a few fish from the lake, and there was a scary moment when three of them found the causeway and started to walkout... but the path turned and they didn't, and two of them nearly drowned before the others pulled them out. The tall bald man yelled at them, his words echoing across the water in some tongue that even Jojen did not know, and a little while later they gathered up their shields and spears and marched off north by east, the same way Jon had gone. Bran wanted to leave too, to look for Summer, but the Reeds said no. \\\"We will stay another night,\\\" said Jojen, \\\"put some leagues between us and the wildlings. You don't want to meet them again, do you?\\\" Late that afternoon Summer returned from wherever he'd been hiding, dragging his back leg. He ate parts of the bodies in the inn, driving off the crows, then swam out to the island. Meera had drawn the broken arrow from his leg and rubbed the wound with the juice of some plants she found growing around the base of the tower. The direwolf was still limping, but a little less each day, it seemed to Bran. The gods had heard.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Maybe we should try another castle,\\\" Meera said to her brother.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Maybe we could get through the gate somewhere else. I could go scout if you wanted, I'd make better time by myself.\\\"\\n\\nBran shook his head. \\\"If you go east there's Deep Lake, then Queensgate. West is Icemark. But they'll be the same, only smaller. All the gates are sealed except the ones at Castle Black, Eastwatch, and the Shadow Tower.\\\"\\n\\nHodor said, \\\"Hodor,\\\" to that, and the Reeds exchanged a look. \\\"At least I should climb to the top of the Wall,\\\" Meera decided. \\\"Maybe I'll see something up there.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What could you hope to see?\\\" Jojen asked.\\n\\n\\\"Something,\\\" said Meera, and for once she was adamant.\\n\\nIt should be me. Bran raised his head to lookup at the Wall, and imagined himself climbing inch by inch, squirming his fingers into cracks in the ice and kicking footholds with his toes. That made him smile in spite of everything, the dreams and the wildlings and Jon and everything. He had climbed the walls of Winterfell when he was little, and all the towers too, but none of them had been so high, and they were only stone. The Wall could look like stone, all grey and pitted, but then the clouds would break and the sun would hit it differently, and all at once it would transform, and stand there white and blue and glittering. It was the end of the world, Old Nan always said. On the other side were monsters and giants and ghouls, but they could not pass so long as the Wall stood strong. I want to stand on top with Meera, Bran thought. I want to stand on top and see.\\n\\nBut he was a broken boy with useless legs, so all he could do was watch from below as Meera went up in his stead.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She wasn't really climbing, the way he used to climb. She was only walking up some steps that the Night's Watch had hewn hundreds and thousands of years ago. He remembered Maester Luwin saying the Nightfort was the only castle where the steps had been cut from the ice of the Wall itself. Or maybe it had been Uncle Benjen. The newer castles had wooden steps, or stone ones, or long ramps of earth and gravel. Ice is too treacherous. It was his uncle who'd told him that. He said that the outer surface of the Wall wept icy tears sometimes, though the core inside stayed frozen hard as rock. The steps must have melted and refrozen a thousand times since the last black brothers left the castle, and every time they did they shrunk a little and got smoother and rounder and more treacherous.\\n\\nAnd smaller. It's almost like the Wall was swallowing them back into itself. Meera Reed was very surefooted, but even so she was going slowly, moving from nub to nub. In two places where the steps were hardly thereat all she got down on all fours. It will be worse when she comes down, Bran thought, watching. Even so, he wished it was him up there. When she reached the top, crawling up the icy knobs that were all that remained of the highest steps, Meera vanished from his sight.\\n\\n\\\"When will she comedown?\\\" Bran asked Jojen.\\n\\n\\\"When she is ready. She will want to have a good look... at the Wall and what's beyond. We should do the same down here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hodor?\\\" said Hodor, doubtfully.\\n\\n\\\"We might find something,\\\" Jojen insisted.\\n\\nOr something might find us. Bran couldn't say it, though; he did not want Jojen to think he was craven.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"So they went exploring, Jojen Reed leading, Bran in his basket on Hodor's back, Summer padding by their side. Once the direwolf bolted through a dark door and returned a moment later with a grey rat between his teeth. The Rat Cook, Bran thought, but it was the wrong color, and only as big as a cat. The Rat Cook was white, and almost as huge as a sow...\\n\\nThere were a lot of dark doors in the Nightfort, and a lot of rats. Bran could hear them scurrying through the vaults and cellars, and the maze of pitch-black tunnels that connected them. Jojen wanted to go poking around down there, but Hodor said'Hodor\\\" to that, and Bran said'No.\\\" There were worse things than rats down in the dark beneath the Nightfort.\\n\\n\\\"This seems an old place,\\\" Jojen said as they walked down a gallery where the sunlight fell in dusty shafts through empty windows.\\n\\n\\\"Twice as old as Castle Black,\\\" Bran said, remembering. \\\"It was the first castle on the Wall, and the largest.\\\" But it had also been the first abandoned, all the way back in the time of the Old King. Even then it had been three-quarters empty and too costly to maintain. Good Queen Alysanne had suggested that the Watch replace it with a smaller, newer castle at a spot only seven miles east, where the Wall curved along the shore of a beautiful green lake. Deep Lake had been paid for by the queen's jewels and built by the men the Old King had sent north, and the black brothers had abandoned the Nightfort to the rats.\\n\\nThat was two centuries past, though. Now Deep Lake stood as empty as the castle it had replaced, and the Nightfort...\\n\\n\\\"There are ghosts here,\\\" Bran said. Hodor had heard all the stories before, but Jojen might not have. \\\"Old ghosts, from before the Old King, even before Aegon the Dragon, seventy-nine deserters who went south to be outlaws. One was Lord Ryswell's youngest son, so when they reached the barrowlands they sought shelter at his castle, but Lord Ryswell took them captive and returned them to the Nightfort. The Lord Commander had holes hewn in the top of the Wall and he put the deserters in them and sealed them up alive in the ice. They have spears and horns and they all face north. The seventy-nine sentinels, they're called. They left their posts in life, so in death their watch goes on forever. Years later, when Lord Ryswell was old and dying, he had himself carried to the Nightfort so he could take the black and stand beside his son. He'd sent him back to the Wall for honor's sake, but he loved him still, so he came to share his watch.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2281,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 58"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"So they went exploring, Jojen Reed leading, Bran in his basket on Hodor's back, Summer padding by their side. Once the direwolf bolted through a dark door and returned a moment later with a grey rat between his teeth. The Rat Cook, Bran thought, but it was the wrong color, and only as big as a cat. The Rat Cook was white, and almost as huge as a sow...\n\nThere were a lot of dark doors in the Nightfort, and a lot of rats. Bran could hear them scurrying through the vaults and cellars, and the maze of pitch-black tunnels that connected them. Jojen wanted to go poking around down there, but Hodor said'Hodor\" to that, and Bran said'No.\" There were worse things than rats down in the dark beneath the Nightfort.\n\n\"This seems an old place,\" Jojen said as they walked down a gallery where the sunlight fell in dusty shafts through empty windows.\n\n\"Twice as old as Castle Black,\" Bran said, remembering. \"It was the first castle on the Wall, and the largest.\" But it had also been the first abandoned, all the way back in the time of the Old King. Even then it had been three-quarters empty and too costly to maintain. Good Queen Alysanne had suggested that the Watch replace it with a smaller, newer castle at a spot only seven miles east, where the Wall curved along the shore of a beautiful green lake. Deep Lake had been paid for by the queen's jewels and built by the men the Old King had sent north, and the black brothers had abandoned the Nightfort to the rats.\n\nThat was two centuries past, though. Now Deep Lake stood as empty as the castle it had replaced, and the Nightfort...\n\n\"There are ghosts here,\" Bran said. Hodor had heard all the stories before, but Jojen might not have. \"Old ghosts, from before the Old King, even before Aegon the Dragon, seventy-nine deserters who went south to be outlaws. One was Lord Ryswell's youngest son, so when they reached the barrowlands they sought shelter at his castle, but Lord Ryswell took them captive and returned them to the Nightfort. The Lord Commander had holes hewn in the top of the Wall and he put the deserters in them and sealed them up alive in the ice. They have spears and horns and they all face north. The seventy-nine sentinels, they're called. They left their posts in life, so in death their watch goes on forever. Years later, when Lord Ryswell was old and dying, he had himself carried to the Nightfort so he could take the black and stand beside his son. He'd sent him back to the Wall for honor's sake, but he loved him still, so he came to share his watch.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They spent half the day poking through the castle. Some of the towers had fallen down and others looked unsafe, but they climbed the bell tower (the bells were gone) and the rookery (the birds were gone). Beneath the brewhouse they found a vault of huge oaken casks that boomed hollowly when Hodor knocked on them. They found a library (the shelves and bins had collapsed, the books were gone, and rats were everywhere). They found a dank and dim-lit dungeon with cells enough to hold five hundred captives, but when Bran grabbed hold of one of the rusted bars it broke off in his hand. Only one crumbling wall remained of the great hall, the bathhouse seemed to be sinking into the ground, and a huge thornbush had conquered the practice yard outside the armory where black brothers had once labored with spear and shield and sword. The armory and the forge still stood, however, though cobwebs, rats, and dust had taken the places of blades, bellows, and anvil. Sometimes Summer would hear sounds that Bran seemed deaf to, or bare his teeth at nothing, the fur on the back of his neck bristling... but the Rat Cook never put in an appearance, nor the seventy-nine sentinels, nor Mad Axe. Bran was much relieved. Maybe it is only a ruined empty castle.\n\nBy the time Meera returned, the sun was only a sword's breath above the western hills. \"What did you see?\" her brother Jojen asked her.\n\n\"I saw the haunted forest,\" she said in a wistful tone. \"Hills rising wild as far as the eye can see, covered with trees that no axe has ever touched. I saw the sunlight glinting off a lake, and clouds sweeping in from the west. I saw patches of old snow, and icicles long as pikes. I even saw an eagle circling. I think he saw me too. I waved at him.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Did you see away down?\" asked Jojen.\n\nShe shook her head. \"No. It's a sheer drop, and the ice is so smooth... I might be able to make the descent if I had a good rope and an axe to chop out handholds, but...\"\n\n\"... but not us,\" Jojen finished.\n\n\"No,\" his sister agreed. \"Are you sure this is the place you saw in your dream? Maybe we have the wrong castle.\"\n\n\"No. This is the castle. There is agate here.\"\n\nYes, thought Bran, but it's blocked by stone and ice.\n\nAs the sun began to set the shadows of the towers lengthened and the wind blew harder, sending gusts of dry dead leaves rattling through the yards. The gathering gloom put Bran in mind of another of Old Nan's stories, the tale of Night's King. He had been the thirteenth man to lead the Night's Watch, she said; a warrior who knew no fear. \"And that was the fault in him,\" she would add, \"for all men must know fear.\" A woman was his downfall; a woman glimpsed from atop the Wall, with skin as white as the moon and eyes like blue stars. Fearing nothing, he chased her and caught her and loved her, though her skin was cold as ice, and when he gave his seed to her he gave his soul as well.\n\nHe brought her back to the Nightfort and proclaimed her a queen and himself her king, and with strange sorceries he bound his Sworn Brothers to his will. For thirteen years they had ruled, Night's King and his corpse queen, till finally the Stark of Winterfell and Joramun of the wildlings had joined to free the Watch from bondage. After his fall, when it was found he had been sacrificing to the Others, all records of Night's King had been destroyed, his very name forbidden."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Some say he was a Bolton,\" Old Nan would always end. \"Some say a Magnar out of Skagos, some say Umber, Flint, or Norrey. Some would have you think he was a Woodfoot, from them who ruled Bear Island before the ironmen came. He never was. He was a Stark, the brother of the man who brought him down.\" She always pinched Bran on the nose then, he would never forget it. \"He was a Stark of Winterfell, and who can say? Mayhaps his name was Brandon. Mayhaps he slept in this very bed in this very room.\"\n\nNo, Bran thought, but he walked in this castle, where we'll sleep tonight. He did not like that notion very much at all. Night's King was only a man by light of day, Old Nan would always say, but the night was his to rule. And it's getting dark.\n\nThe Reeds decided that they would sleep in the kitchens, a stone octagon with a broken dome. It looked to offer better shelter than most of the other buildings, even though a crooked weirwood had burst up through the slate floor beside the huge central well, stretching slantwise toward the hole in the roof, its bone-white branches reaching for the sun. It was a queer kind of tree, skinnier than any other weirwood that Bran had ever seen and faceless as well, but it made him feel as if the old gods were with him here, at least.\n\nThat was the only thing he liked about the kitchens, though. The roof was mostly there, so they'd be dry if it rained again, but he didn't think they would ever get warm here. You could feel the cold seeping up through the slate floor. Bran did not like the shadows either, or the huge brick ovens that surrounded them like open mouths, or the rusted meat hooks, or the scars and stains he saw in the butcher's block along one wall. That was where the Rat Cook chopped the prince to pieces, he knew, and he baked the pie in one of these ovens."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The well was the thing he liked the least, though. It was a good twelve feet across, all stone, with steps built into its side, circling down and down into darkness. The walls were damp and covered with niter, but none of them could seethe water at the bottom, not even Meera with her sharp hunter's eyes. \"Maybe it doesn't have a bottom,\" Bran said uncertainly.\n\nHodor peered over the knee-high lip of the well and said, \"HODOR!\" The word echoed down the well, \"Hodorhodorhodorhodor,\" fainter and fainter, \"hodorhodorhodorhodor,\" until it was less than a whisper. Hodor looked startled. Then he laughed, and bent to scoop a broken piece of slate off the floor.\n\n\"Hodor, don't!\" said Bran, but too late. Hodor tossed the slate over the edge. \"You shouldn't have done that. You don't know what's down there. You might have hurt something, or... or woken something up.\"\n\nHodor looked at him innocently. \"Hodor?\"\n\nFar, far, far below, they heard the sound as the stone found water. It wasn't a splash, not truly. It was more a gulp, as if whatever was below had opened a quivering gelid mouth to swallow Hodor's stone. Faint echoes traveled up the well, and fora moment Bran thought he heard something moving, thrashing about in the water. \"Maybe we shouldn't stay here,\" he said uneasily.\n\n\"By the well?\" asked Meera. \"Orin the Nightfort?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Bran.\n\nShe laughed, and sent Hodor out to gather wood. Summer went too. It was almost dark by then, and the direwolf wanted to hunt."},{"from":"human","value":"Hodor returned alone with both arms full of deadwood and broken branches."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jojen Reed took his flint and knife and set about lighting afire while Meera boned the fish she'd caught at the last stream they'd crossed. Bran wondered how many years had passed since there had last been a supper cooked in the kitchens of the Nightfort. He wondered who had cooked it too, though maybe it was better not to know.\n\nWhen the flames were blazing nicely Meera put the fish on. At least it's not a meat pie. The Rat Cook had cooked the son of the Andal king in a big pie with onions, carrots, mushrooms, lots of pepper and salt, a rasher of bacon, and a dark red Dornish wine. Then he served him to his father, who praised the taste and had a second slice. Afterward the gods transformed the cook into a monstrous white rat who could only eat his own young. He had roamed the Nightfort ever since, devouring his children, but still his hunger was not sated. \"It was not for murder that the gods cursed him,\" Old Nan said, \"nor for serving the Andal king his son in a pie. A man has aright to vengeance. But he slew a guest beneath his roof, and that the gods cannot forgive.\"\n\n\"We should sleep,\" Jojen said solemnly, after they were full. The fire was burning low. He stirred it with a stick. \"Perhaps I'll have another green dream to show us the way.\"\n\nHodor was already curled up and snoring lightly. From time to time he thrashed beneath his cloak, and whimpered something that might have been'Hodor.\" Bran wriggled closer to the fire. The warmth felt good, and the soft crackling of flames soothed him, but sleep would not come. Outside the wind was sending armies of dead leaves marching across the courtyards to scratch faintly at the doors and windows. The sounds made him think of Old Nan's stories. He could almost hear the ghostly sentinels calling to each other atop the Wall and winding their ghostly warhorns. Pale moonlight slanted down through the hole in the dome, painting the branches of the weirwood as they strained up toward the roof. It looked as if the tree was trying to catch the moon and drag it down into the well. Old gods, Bran prayed, if you hear me, don't send a dream tonight. Or if you do, make it a good dream. The gods made no answer."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bran made himself close his eyes. Maybe he even slept some, or maybe he was just drowsing, floating the way you do when you are half awake and half asleep, trying not to think about Mad Axe or the Rat Cook or the thing that came in the night.\n\nThen he heard the noise.\n\nHis eyes opened. What was that? He held his breath. Did I dream it? Was I having a stupid nightmare? He didn't want to wake Meera and Jojen fora bad dream, but... there... a soft scuffling sound, far off... Leaves, it's leaves rattling off the walls outside and rustling together... or the wind, it could be the wind... The sound wasn't coming from outside, though. Bran felt the hairs on his arm start to rise. The sound's inside, it's inhere with us, and it's getting louder. He pushed himself up onto an elbow, listening. There was wind, and blowing leaves as well, but this was something else. Footsteps. Someone was coming this way. Something was coming this way.\n\nIt wasn't the sentinels, he knew. The sentinels never left the Wall. But there might be other ghosts in the Nightfort, ones even more terrible. He remembered what Old Nan had said of Mad Axe, how he took his boots off and prowled the castle halls barefoot in the dark, with never a sound to tell you where he was except for the drops of blood that fell from his axe and his elbows and the end of his wet red beard. Or maybe it wasn't Mad Axe at all, maybe it was the thing that came in the night. The \"prentice boys all saw it, Old Nan said, but afterward when they told their Lord Commander every description had been different. And three died within the year, and the fourth went mad, and a hundred years later when the thing had come again, the'prentice boys were seen shambling along behind it, all in chains."},{"from":"human","value":"That was only a story, though."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He was just scaring himself. There was nothing that comes in the night, Maester Luwin had said so. If there had ever been such a thing, it was gone from the world now, like giants and dragons. It's nothing, Bran thought.\n\nBut the sounds were louder now.\n\nIt's coming from the well, he realized. That made him even more afraid. Something was coming up from under the ground, coming up out of the dark. Hodor woke it up. He woke it up with that stupid piece of slate, and now it's coming. It was hard to hear over Hodor's snores and the thumping of his own heart. Was that the sound blood made dripping from an axe? Or was it the faint, far-off rattling of ghostly chains? Bran listened harder. Footsteps. It was definitely footsteps, each one a little louder than the one before. He couldn't tell how many, though. The well made the sounds echo. He didn't hear any dripping, or chains either, but there was something else... a high thin whimpering sound, like someone in pain, and heavy muffled breathing. But the footsteps were loudest. The footsteps were coming closer.\n\nBran was too frightened to shout. The fire had burned down to a few faint embers and his friends were all asleep. He almost slipped his skin and reached out for his wolf, but Summer might be miles away. He couldn't leave his friends helpless in the dark to face whatever was coming up out of the well. I told them not to come here, he thought miserably. I told them there were ghosts. I told them that we should go to Castle Black.\n\nThe footfalls sounded heavy to Bran, slow, ponderous, scraping against the stone. It must be huge. Mad Axe had been a big man in Old Nan's story, and the thing that came in the night had been monstrous. Back in Winterfell, Sansa had told him that the demons of the dark couldn't touch him if he hid beneath his blanket. He almost did that now, before he remembered that he was a prince, and almost a man grown."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bran wriggled across the floor, dragging his dead legs behind him until he could reach out and touch Meera on the foot. She woke at once. He had never known anyone to wake as quick as Meera Reed, or to be so alert so fast. Bran pressed a finger to his mouth so she'd know not to speak. She heard the sound at once, he could see that on her face; the echoing footfalls, the faint whimpering, the heavy breathing.\n\nMeera rose to her feet without a word and reclaimed her weapons. With her three-pronged frog spear in her right hand and the folds of her net dangling from her left, she slipped barefoot toward the well. Jojen dozed on, oblivious, while Hodor muttered and thrashed in restless sleep. She kept to the shadows as she moved, stepped around the shaft of moonlight as quiet as a cat. Bran was watching her all the while, and even he could barely seethe faint sheen of her spear. I can't let her fight the thing alone, he thought. Summer was faraway, but...\n\n... he slipped his skin, and reached for Hodor.\n\nIt was not like sliding into Summer. That was so easy now that Bran hardly thought about it. This was harder, like trying to pull a left boot on your right foot. It fit all wrong, and the boot was scared too, the boot didn't know what was happening, the boot was pushing the foot away. He tasted vomit in the back of Hodor's throat, and that was almost enough to make him flee. Instead he squirmed and shoved, sat up, gathered his legs under him-his huge strong legs-and rose. I'm standing. He took a step. I'm walking. It was such a strange feeling that he almost fell. He could see himself on the cold stone floor, a little broken thing, but he wasn't broken now. He grabbed Hodor's longsword. The breathing was as loud as a blacksmith's bellows."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"From the well came a wail, a piercing creech that went through him like a knife. A huge black shape heaved itself up into the darkness and lurched toward the moonlight, and the fear rose up in Bran so thick that before he could even think of drawing Hodor's sword the way he'd meant to, he found himself back on the floor again with Hodor roaring'Hodor hodor HODOR,\" the way he had in the lake tower whenever the lightning flashed. But the thing that came in the night was screaming too, and thrashing wildly in the folds of Meera's net. Bran saw her spear dart out of the darkness to snap at it, and the thing staggered and fell, struggling with the net. The wailing was still coming from the well, even louder now. On the floor the black thing flopped and fought, screeching, \"No, no, don't, please, DON'T...\"\n\nMeera stood over him, the moonlight shining silver off the prongs of her frog spear. \"Who are you?\" she demanded.\n\n\"I'm SAM,\" the black thing sobbed. \"Sam, Sam, I'm Sam, let me out, you stabbed me...\" He rolled through the puddle of moonlight, flailing and flopping in the tangles of Meera's net. Hodor was still shouting, \"Hodor hodor hodor.\"\n\nIt was Jojen who fed the sticks to the fire and blew on them until the flames leapt up crackling. Then there was light, and Bran saw the pale thin-faced girl by the lip of the well, all bundled up in furs and skins beneath an enormous black cloak, trying to shush the screaming baby in her arms. The thing on the floor was pushing an arm through the net to reach his knife, but the loops wouldn't let him. He wasn't any monster beast, or even Mad Axe drenched in gore; only a big fat man dressed up in black wool, black fur, black leather, and blackmail. \"He's a black brother,\" said Bran. \"Meera, he's from the Night's Watch.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Hodor?\" Hodor squatted down on his haunches to peer at the man in the net. \"Hodor,\" he said again, hooting.\n\n\"The Night's Watch, yes.\" The fat man was still breathing like a bellows. \"I'm a brother of the Watch.\" He had one cord under his chins, forcing his head up, and others digging deep into his cheeks. \"I'm a crow, please. Let me out of this.\"\n\nBran was suddenly uncertain. \"Are you the three-eyed crow?\" He can't be the three-eyed crow.\n\n\"I don't think so.\" The fat man rolled his eyes, but there were only two of them. \"I'm only Sam. Samwell Tarly. Let me out, it's hurting me.\" He began to struggle again.\n\nMeera made a disgusted sound. \"Stop flopping around. If you tear my net I'll throw you back down the well. Just lie still and I'll untangle you.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" Jojen asked the girl with the baby.\n\n\"Gilly,\" she said. \"For the gillyflower. He's Sam. We never meant to scare you.\" She rocked her baby and murmured at it, and finally it stopped crying.\n\nMeera was untangling the fat brother. Jojen went to the well and peered down. \"Where did you come from?\"\n\n\"From Craster's,\" the girl said. \"Are you the one?\"\n\nJojen turned to look at her. \"The one?\"\n\n\"He said that Sam wasn't the one,\" she explained. \"There was someone else, he said. The one he was sent to find.\"\n\n\"Who said?\" Bran demanded."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Coldhands,\" Gilly answered softly.\n\nMeera peeled back one end of her net, and the fat man managed to sit up. He was shaking, Bran saw, and still struggling to catch his breath. \"He said there would be people,\" he huffed. \"People in the castle. I didn't know you'd be right at the top of the steps, though. I didn't know you'd throw a net on me or stab me in the stomach.\" He touched his belly with a black-gloved hand. \"Am I bleeding? I can't see.\"\n\n\"It was just a poke to get you off your feet,\" said Meera. \"Here, let me have a look.\" She went to one knee, and felt around his navel. \"You're wearing mail. I never got near your skin.\"\n\n\"Well, it hurt all the same,\" Sam complained.\n\n\"Are you really a brother of the Night's Watch?\" Bran asked.\n\nThe fat man's chins jiggled when he nodded. His skin looked pale and saggy. \"Only a steward. I took care of Lord Mormont's ravens.\" Fora moment he looked like he was going to cry. \"I lost them at the Fist, though. It was my fault. I got us lost too. I couldn't even find the Wall. It's a hundred leagues long and seven hundred feet high and I couldn't find it!\"\n\n\"Well, you've found it now,\" said Meera. \"Lift your rump off the ground, I want my net back.\"\n\n\"How did you get through the Wall?\" Jojen demanded as Sam struggled to his feet. \"Does the well lead to an underground river, is that where you came from? You're not even wet...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"There's agate,\" said fat Sam. \"A hidden gate, as old as the Wall itself. The Black Gate, he called it.\"\n\nThe Reeds exchanged a look. \"We'll find this gate at the bottom of the well?\" asked Jojen.\n\nSam shook his head. \"You won't. I have to take you.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Meera demanded. \"If there's agate...\"\n\n\"You won't find it. If you did it wouldn't open. Not for you. It's the Black Gate.\" Sam plucked at the faded black wool of his sleeve. \"Only a man of the Night's Watch can open it, he said. A Sworn Brother who has said his words.\"\n\n\"He said.\" Jojen frowned. \"This... Coldhands?\"\n\n\"That wasn't his true name,\" said Gilly, rocking. \"We only called him that, Sam and me. His hands were cold as ice, but he saved us from the dead men, him and his ravens, and he brought us hereon his elk.\"\n\n\"His elk?\" said Bran, wonderstruck.\n\n\"His elk?\" said Meera, startled.\n\n\"His ravens?\" said Jojen.\n\n\"Hodor?\" said Hodor.\n\n\"Was he green?\" Bran wanted to know. \"Did he have antlers?\"\n\nThe fat man was confused. \"The elk?\"\n\n\"Coldhands,\" said Bran impatiently. \"The green men ride on elks, Old Nan used to say. Sometimes they have antlers too.\"\n\n\"He wasn't a green man. He wore blacks, like a brother of the Watch, but he was pale as a wight, with hands so cold that at first I was afraid. The wights have blue eyes, though, and they don't have tongues, or they've forgotten how to use them.\" The fat man turned to Jojen. \"He'll be waiting. We should go. Do you have anything warmer to wear? The Black Gate is cold, and the other side of the Wallis even colder. You-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Why didn't he come with you?\" Meera gestured toward Gilly and her babe. \"They came with you, why not him? Why didn't you bring him through this Black Gate too?\"\n\n\"He... he can't.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"The Wall. The Wallis more than justice and stone, he said. There are spells woven into it... old ones, and strong. He cannot pass beyond the Wall.\"\n\nIt grew very quiet in the castle kitchen then. Bran could hear the soft crackle of the flames, the wind stirring the leaves in the night, the creak of the skinny weirwood reaching for the moon. Beyond the gates the monsters live, and the giants and the ghouls, he remembered Old Nan saying, but they cannot pass so long as the Wall stands strong. So go to sleep, my little Brandon, my baby boy. You needn't fear. There are no monsters here.\n\n\"I am not the one you were told to bring,\" Jojen Reed told fat Sam in his stained and baggy blacks. \"He is.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Sam looked down at him uncertainly. It might have been just then that he realized Bran was crippled. \"I don't... I'm not strong enough to carry you, I...\"\n\n\"Hodor can carry me.\" Bran pointed at his basket. \"I ride in that, upon his back.\"\n\nSam was staring at him. \"You're Jon Snow's brother. The one who fell...\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jojen. \"That boy is dead.\"\n\n\"Don't tell,\" Bran warned. \"Please.\"\n\nSam looked confused fora moment, but finally he said, \"I... I can keep a secret. Gilly too.\" When he looked at her, the girl nodded. \"Jon... Jon was my brother too. He was the best friend I ever had, but he went off with Qhorin Halfhand to scout the Frostfangs and never came back. We were waiting for him on the Fist when... when...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Jon's here,\" Bran said. \"Summer saw him. He was with some wildlings, but they killed a man and Jon took his horse and escaped. I bet he went to Castle Black.\"\n\nSam turned big eyes on Meera. \"You're certain it was Jon? You saw him?\"\n\n\"I'm Meera,\" Meera said with a smile. \"Summer is...\"\n\nA shadow detached itself from the broken dome above and leapt down through the moonlight. Even with his injured leg, the wolf landed as light and quiet as a snowfall. The girl Gilly made a frightened sound and clutched her babe so hard against her that it began to cry again.\n\n\"He won't hurt you,\" Bran said. \"That's Summer.\"\n\n\"Jon said you all had wolves.\" Sam pulled off a glove. \"I know Ghost.\" He held out a shaky hand, the fingers white and soft and fat as little sausages. Summer padded closer, sniffed them, and gave the hand a lick.\n\nThat was when Bran made up his mind. \"We'll go with you.\"\n\n\"All of you?\" Sam seemed surprised by that.\n\nMeera ruffled Bran's hair. \"He's our prince.\"\n\nSummer circled the well, sniffing. He paused by the top step and looked back at Bran. He wants to go.\n\n\"Will Gilly be safe if I leave her here till I comeback?\" Sam asked them.\n\n\"She should be,\" said Meera. \"She's welcome to our fire.\"\n\nJojen said, \"The castle is empty.\"\n\nGilly looked around. \"Craster used to tell us tales of castles, but I never knew they'd be so big.\""},{"from":"human","value":"It's only the kitchens."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bran wondered what she'd think when she saw Winterfell, if she ever did.\n\nIt took them a few minutes to gather their things and hoist Bran into his wicker seat on Hodor's back. By the time they were ready to go, Gilly sat nursing her babe by the fire. \"You'll comeback for me,\" she said to Sam.\n\n\"As soon as I can,\" he promised, \"then we'll go somewhere warm.\" When he heard that, part of Bran wondered what he was doing. Will I ever go someplace warm again?\n\n\"I'll go first, I know the way.\" Sam hesitated at the top. \"There's just so many steps,\" he sighed, before he started down. Jojen followed, then Summer, then Hodor with Bran riding on his back. Meera took the rear, with her spear and net in hand.\n\nIt was along way down. The top of the well was bathed in moonlight, but it grew smaller and dimmer every time they went around. Their footsteps echoed off the damp stones, and the water sounds grew louder. \"Should we have brought torches?\" Jojen asked.\n\n\"Your eyes will adjust,\" said Sam. \"Keep one hand on the wall and you won't fall.\"\n\nThe well grew darker and colder with every turn. When Bran finally lifted his head around to look backup the shaft, the top of the well was no bigger than a half-moon. \"Hodor,\" Hodor whispered, \"Hodorhodorhodorhodorhodorhodor,\" the well whispered back. The water sounds were close, but when Bran peered down he saw only blackness.\n\nA turn or two later Sam stopped suddenly. He was a quarter of the way around the well from Bran and Hodor and six feet farther down, yet Bran could barely see him. He could seethe door, though. The Black Gate, Sam had called it, but it wasn't black at all."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was white weirwood, and there was a face on it.\n\nAglow came from the wood, like milk and moonlight, so faint it scarcely seemed to touch anything beyond the door itself, not even Sam standing right before it. The face was old and pale, wrinkled and shrunken. It looks dead. Its mouth was closed, and its eyes; its cheeks were sunken, its brow withered, its chin sagging. If a man could live fora thousand years and never die but just grow older, his face might come to look like that.\n\nThe door opened its eyes.\n\nThey were white too, and blind. \"Who are you?\" the door asked, and the well whispered, \"Who-who-who-who-who-who-who.\"\n\n\"I am the sword in the darkness,\" Samwell Tarly said. \"I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers. I am the shield that guards the realms of men.\"\n\n\"Then pass,\" the door said. Its lips opened, wide and wider and wider still, until nothing at all remained but a great gaping mouth in a ring of wrinkles. Sam stepped aside and waved Jojen through ahead of him. Summer followed, sniffing as he went, and then it was Bran's turn. Hodor ducked, but not low enough. The door's upper lip brushed softly against the top of Bran's head, and a drop of water fell on him and ran slowly down his nose. It was strangely warm, and salty as a tear."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"DAENERYS\n\nMeereen was as large as Astapor and Yunkai combined. Like her sister cities she was built of brick, but where Astapor had been red and Yunkai yellow, Meereen was made with bricks of many colors. Her walls were higher than Yunkai's and in better repair, studded with bastions and anchored by great defensive towers at every angle. Behind them, huge against the sky, could be seen the top of the Great Pyramid, a monstrous thing eight hundred feet tall with a towering bronze harpy at its top.\n\n\"The harpy is a craven thing,\" Daario Naharis said when he saw it. \"She has a woman's heart and a chicken's legs. Small wonder her sons hide behind their walls.\"\n\nBut the hero did not hide. He rode out the city gates, armored in scales of copper and jet and mounted upon a white charger whose striped pink-and-white barding matched the silk cloak flowing from the hero's shoulders. The lance he bore was fourteen feet long, swirled in pink and white, and his hair was shaped and teased and lacquered into two great curling ram's horns. Back and forth he rode beneath the walls of multicolored bricks, challenging the besiegers to send a champion forth to meet him in single combat.\n\nHer bloodriders were in such a fever to go meet him that they almost came to blows. \"Blood of my blood,\" Dany told them, \"your place is hereby me. This man is a buzzing fly, no more. Ignore him, he will soon begone.\" Aggo, Jhogo, and Rakharo were brave warriors, but they were young, and too valuable to risk. They kept her khalasar together, and were her best scouts too."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"That was wisely done,\" Ser Jorah said as they watched from the front of her pavilion. \"Let the fool ride back and forth and shout until his horse goes lame. He does us no harm.\"\n\n\"He does,\" Arstan Whitebeard insisted. \"Wars are not won with swords and spears alone, ser. Two hosts of equal strength may come together, but one will break and run whilst the other stands. This hero builds courage in the hearts of his own men and plants the seeds of doubt in ours.\"\n\nSer Jorah snorted. \"And if our champion were to lose, what sort of seed would that plant?\"\n\n\"A man who fears battle wins no victories, ser.\"\n\n\"We're not speaking of battle. Meereen's gates will not open if that fool falls. Why risk a life for naught?\"\n\n\"For honor, I would say.\"\n\n\"I have heard enough.\" Dany did not need their squabbling on top of all the other troubles that plagued her. Meereen posed dangers far more serious than one pink-and-white hero shouting insults, and she could not let herself be distracted. Her host numbered more than eighty thousand after Yunkai, but fewer than a quarter of them were soldiers. The rest... well, Ser Jorah called them mouths with feet, and soon they would be starving.\n\nThe Great Masters of Meereen had withdrawn before Dany's advance, harvesting all they could and burning what they could not harvest. Scorched fields and poisoned wells had greeted her at every hand. Worst of all, they had nailed a slave child upon every milepost along the coast road from Yunkai, nailed them up still living with their entrails hanging out and one arm always outstretched to point the way to Meereen. Leading her van, Daario had given orders for the children to betaken down before Dany had to see them, but she had countermanded him as soon as she was told. \"I will see them,\" she said. \"I will see everyone, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.\""},{"from":"human","value":"By the time they came to Meereen sitting on the salt coast beside her river, the count stood atone hundred and sixty-three."},{"from":"gpt","value":"I will have this city, Dany pledged to herself once more.\n\nThe pink-and-white hero taunted the besiegers for an hour, mocking their manhood, mothers, wives, and gods. Meereen's defenders cheered him on from the city walls. \"His name is Oznak zo Pahl,\" Brown Ben Plumm told her when he arrived for the war council. He was the new commander of the Second Sons, chosen by a vote of his fellow sellswords. \"I was bodyguard to his uncle once, before I joined the Second Sons. The Great Masters, what a ripe lot o\" maggots. The women weren't so bad, though it was worth your life to look at the wrong one the wrong way. I knew a man, Scarb, this Oznak cut his liver out. Claimed to be defending a lady's honor, he did, said Scarb had raped her with his eyes. How do you rape a wench with eyes, I ask you? But his uncle is the richest man in Meereen and his father commands the city guard, so I had to run like a rat before he killed me too.\"\n\nThey watched Oznak zo Pahl dismount his white charger, undo his robes, pullout his manhood, and direct a stream of urine in the general direction of the olive grove where Dany's gold pavilion stood among the burnt trees. He was still pissing when Daario Naharis rode up, arakh in hand. \"Shall I cut that off for you and stuff it down his mouth, Your Grace?\" His tooth shone gold amidst the blue of his forked beard.\n\n\"It's his city I want, not his meager manhood.\" She was growing angry, however. If I ignore this any longer, my own people will think me weak. Yet who could she send? She needed Daario as much as she did her bloodriders. Without the flamboyant Tyroshi, she had no hold on the Stormcrows, many of whom had been followers of Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor the Bald."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"High on the walls of Meereen, the jeers had grown louder, and now hundreds of the defenders were taking their lead from the hero and pissing down through the ramparts to show their contempt for the besiegers. They are pissing on slaves, to show how little they fear us, she thought. They would never dare such a thing if it were a Dothraki khalasar outside their gates.\n\n\"This challenge must be met,\" Arstan said again.\n\n\"It will be.\" Dany said, as the hero tucked his penis away again. \"Tell Strong Belwas I have need of him.\"\n\nThey found the huge brown eunuch sitting in the shade of her pavilion, eating a sausage. He finished it in three bites, wiped his greasy hands clean on his trousers, and sent Arstan Whitebeard to fetch him his steel. The aged squire honed Belwas's arakh every evening and rubbed it down with bright red oil.\n\nWhen Whitebeard brought the sword, Strong Belwas squinted down the edge, grunted, slid the blade back into its leather sheath, and tied the swordbelt about his vast waist. Arstan had brought his shield as well: around steel disk no larger than a pie plate, which the eunuch grasped with his offhand rather than strapping to his forearm in the manner of Westeros. \"Find liver and onions, Whitebeard,\" Belwas said. \"Not for now, for after. Killing makes Strong Belwas hungry.\" He did not wait fora reply, but lumbered from the olive grove toward Oznak zo Pahl.\n\n\"Why that one, Khaleesi?\" Rakharo demanded of her. \"He is fat and stupid.\"\n\n\"Strong Belwas was a slave herein the fighting pits. If this highborn Oznak should fall to such the Great Masters will be shamed, while if he wins... well, it is a poor victory for one so noble, one that Meereen can take no pride in.\" And unlike Ser Jorah, Daario, Brown Ben, and her three bloodriders, the eunuch did not lead troops, plan battles, or give her counsel. He does nothing but eat and boast and bellow at Arstan. Belwas was the man she could most easily spare. And it was time she learned what sort of protector Magister Illyrio had sent her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A thrum of excitement went through the siege lines when Belwas was seen plodding toward the city, and from the walls and towers of Meereen came shouts and jeers. Oznak zo Pahl mounted up again, and waited, his striped lance held upright. The charger tossed his head impatiently and pawed the sandy earth. As massive as he was, the eunuch looked small beside the hero on his horse.\n\n\"A chivalrous man would dismount,\" said Arstan.\n\nOznak zo Pahl lowered his lance and charged.\n\nBelwas stopped with legs spread wide. In one hand was his small round shield, in the other the curved arakh that Arstan tended with such care. His great brown stomach and sagging chest were bare above the yellow silk sash knotted about his waist, and he wore no armor but his studded leather vest, so absurdly small that it did not even cover his nipples. \"We should have given him chainmail,\" Dany said, suddenly anxious.\n\n\"Mail would only slow him,\" said Ser Jorah. \"They wear no armor in the fighting pits. It's blood the crowds come to see.\"\n\nDust flew from the hooves of the white charger. Oznak thundered toward Strong Belwas, his striped cloak streaming from his shoulders. The whole city of Meereen seemed to be screaming him on. The besiegers'cheers seemed few and thin by comparison; her Unsullied stood in silent ranks, watching with stone faces. Belwas might have been made of stone as well. He stood in the horse's path, his vest stretched tight across his broad back. Oznak's lance was leveled at the center of his chest. Its bright steel point winked in the sunlight. He's going to be impaled, she thought... as the eunuch spun sideways. And quick as the blink of an eye the horseman was beyond him, wheeling, raising the lance. Belwas made no move to strike at him. The Meereenese on the walls screamed even louder. \"What is he doing?\" Dany demanded."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Giving the mob a show,\" Ser Jorah said.\n\nOznak brought the horse around Belwas in a wide circle, then dug in with his spurs and charged again. Again Belwas waited, then spun and knocked the point of the lance aside. She could hear the eunuch's booming laughter echoing across the plain as the hero went past him. \"The lance is too long,\" Ser Jorah said. \"All Belwas needs do is avoid the point. Instead of trying to spit him so prettily, the fool should ride right over him.\"\n\nOznak zo Pahl charged a third time, and now Dany could see plainly that he was riding past Belwas, the way a Westerosi knight might ride at an opponent in atilt, rather than at him, like a Dothraki riding down a foe. The flat level ground allowed the charger to getup a good speed, but it also made it easy for the eunuch to dodge the cumbersome fourteen-foot lance.\n\nMeereen's pink-and-white hero tried to anticipate this time, and swung his lance sideways at the last second to catch Strong Belwas when he dodged. But the eunuch had anticipated too, and this time he dropped down instead of spinning sideways. The lance passed harmlessly over his head. And suddenly Belwas was rolling, and bringing the razor-sharp arakh around in a silver arc. They heard the charger scream as the blade bit into his legs, and then the horse was falling, the hero tumbling from the saddle.\n\nA sudden silence swept along the brick parapets of Meereen. Now it was Dany's people who were screaming and cheering.\n\nOznak leapt clear of his horse and managed to draw his sword before Strong Belwas was on him. Steel sang against steel, too fast and furious for Dany to follow the blows. It could not have been a dozen heartbeats before Belwas's chest was awash in blood from a slice below his breasts, and Oznak zo Pahl had an arakh planted right between his ram's horns. The eunuch wrenched the blade loose and parted the hero's head from his body with three savage blows to the neck. He held it up high for the Meereenese to see, then flung it toward the city gates and let it bounce and roll across the sand."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So much for the hero of Meereen,\" said Daario, laughing.\n\n\"A victory without meaning,\" Ser Jorah cautioned. \"We will not win Meereen by killing its defenders one at a time.\"\n\n\"No,\" Dany agreed, \"but I'm pleased we killed this one.\"\n\nThe defenders on the walls began firing their crossbows at Belwas, but the bolts fell short or skittered harmlessly along the ground. The eunuch turned his back on the steel-tipped rain, lowered his trousers, squatted, and shat in the direction of the city. He wiped himself with Oznak's striped cloak, and paused long enough to loot the hero's corpse and put the dying horse out of his agony before trudging back to the olive grove.\n\nThe besiegers gave him a raucous welcome as soon as he reached the camp. Her Dothraki hooted and screamed, and the Unsullied sent up a great clangor by banging their spears against their shields. \"Well done,\" Ser Jorah told him, and Brown Ben tossed the eunuch a ripe plum and said, \"A sweet fruit fora sweet fight.\" Even her Dothraki handmaids had words of praise. \"We would braid your hair and hang a bell in it, Strong Belwas,\" said Jhiqui, \"but you have no hair to braid.\"\n\n\"Strong Belwas needs no tinkly bells.\" The eunuch ate Brown Ben's plum in four big bites and tossed aside the stone. \"Strong Belwas needs liver and onions.\"\n\n\"You shall have it,\" said Dany. \"Strong Belwas is hurt.\" His stomach was red with the blood sheeting down from the meaty gash beneath his breasts."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It is nothing. I let each man cut me once, before I kill him.\" He slapped his bloody belly. \"Count the cuts and you will know how many Strong Belwas has slain.\"\n\nBut Dany had lost Khal Drogo to a similar wound, and she was not willing to let it go untreated. She sent Missandei to find a certain Yunkish freedman renowned for his skill in the healing arts. Belwas howled and complained, but Dany scolded him and called him a big bald baby until he let the healer stanch the wound with vinegar, sew it shut, and bind his chest with strips of linen soaked in fire wine. Only then did she lead her captains and commanders inside her pavilion for their council.\n\n\"I must have this city,\" she told them, sitting crosslegged on a pile of cushions, her dragons all about her. Irri and Jhiqui poured wine. \"Her granaries are full to bursting. There are figs and dates and olives growing on the terraces of her pyramids, and casks of salt fish and smoked meat buried in her cellars.\"\n\n\"And fat chests of gold, silver, and gemstones as well,\" Daario reminded them. \"Let us not forget the gemstones.\"\n\n\"I've had a look at the landward walls, and I see no point of weakness,\" said Ser Jorah Mormont. \"Given time, we might be able to mine beneath a tower and make a breach, but what do we eat while we're digging? Our stores are all but exhausted.\"\n\n\"No weakness in the landward walls?\" said Dany. Meereen stood on a jut of sand and stone where the slow brown Skahazadhan flowed into Slaver's Bay. The city's north wall ran along the riverbank, its west along the bay shore. \"Does that mean we might attack from the river or the sea?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"With three ships? We'll want to have Captain Groleo take a good look at the wall along the river, but unless it's crumbling that's just a wetter way to die.\"\n\n\"What if we were to build siege towers? My brother Viserys told tales of such, I know they can be made.\"\n\n\"From wood, Your Grace,\" Ser Jorah said. \"The slavers have burnt every tree within twenty leagues of here. Without wood, we have no trebuchets to smash the walls, no ladders to go over them, no siege towers, no turtles, and no rams. We can storm the gates with axes, to be sure, but...\"\n\n\"Did you see them bronze heads above the gates?\" asked Brown Ben Plumm. \"Rows of harpy heads with open mouths? The Meereenese can squirt boiling oil out them mouths, and cook your axemen where they stand.\"\n\nDaario Naharis gave Grey Worm a smile. \"Perhaps the Unsullied should wield the axes. Boiling oil feels like no more than a warm bath to you, I have heard.\"\n\n\"This is false.\" Grey Worm did not return the smile. \"These ones do not feel burns as men do, yet such oil blinds and kills. The Unsullied do not fear to die, though. Give these ones rams, and we will batter down these gates or die in the attempt.\"\n\n\"You would die,\" said Brown Ben. At Yunkai, when he took command of the Second Sons, he claimed to be the veteran of a hundred battles. \"Though I will not say I fought bravely in all of them. There are old sellswords and bold sellswords, but no old bold sellswords.\" She saw that it was true."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Dany sighed. \"I will not throwaway Unsullied lives, Grey Worm. Perhaps we can starve the city out.\"\n\nSer Jorah looked unhappy. \"We'll starve long before they do, Your Grace. There's no food here, nor fodder for our mules and horses. I do not like this river water either. Meereen shits into the Skahazadhan but draws its drinking water from deep wells. Already we've had reports of sickness in the camps, fever and brownleg and three cases of the bloody flux. There will be more if we remain. The slaves are weak from the march.\"\n\n\"Freedmen,\" Dany corrected. \"They are slaves no longer.\"\n\n\"Slave or free, they are hungry and they'll soon be sick. The city is better provisioned than we are, and can be resupplied by water. Your three ships are not enough to deny them access to both the river and the sea.\"\n\n\"Then what do you advise, Ser Jorah?\"\n\n\"You will not like it.\"\n\n\"I would hear it all the same.\"\n\n\"As you wish. I say, let this city be. You cannot free every slave in the world, Khaleesi. Your war is in Westeros.\"\n\n\"I have not forgotten Westeros.\" Dany dreamt of it some nights, this fabled land that she had never seen. \"If I let Meereen's old brick walls defeat me so easily, though, how will I ever take the great stone castles of Westeros?\"\n\n\"As Aegon did,\" Ser Jorah said, \"with fire. By the time we reach the Seven Kingdoms, your dragons will be grown. And we will have siege towers and trebuchets as well, all the things we lack here... but the way across the Lands of the Long Summer is long and grueling, and there are dangers we cannot know. You stopped at Astapor to buy an army, not to start a war. Save your spears and swords for the Seven Kingdoms, my queen. Leave Meereen to the Meereenese and march west for Pentos.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Defeated?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"said Dany, bristling.\n\n\"When cowards hide behind great walls, it is they who are defeated, Khaleesi,\" Ko Jhogo said.\n\nHer other bloodriders concurred. \"Blood of my blood,\" said Rakharo, \"when cowards hide and burn the food and fodder, great khals must seek for braver foes. This is known.\"\n\n\"It is known,\" Jhiqui agreed, as she poured.\n\n\"Not tome.\" Dany set great store by Ser Jorah's counsel, but to leave Meereen untouched was more than she could stomach. She could not forget the children on their posts, the birds tearing at their entrails, their skinny arms pointing up the coast road. \"Ser Jorah, you say we have no food left. If I march west, how can I feed my freedmen?\"\n\n\"You can't. I am sorry, Khaleesi. They must feed themselves or starve. Many and more will die along the march, yes. That will be hard, but there is noway to save them. We need to put this scorched earth well behind us.\"\n\nDany had left a trail of corpses behind her when she crossed the red waste. It was a sight she never meant to see again. \"No,\" she said. \"I will not march my people off to die.\" My children. \"There must be someway into this city.\"\n\n\"I know away.\" Brown Ben Plumm stroked his speckled grey-and-white beard. \"Sewers.\"\n\n\"Sewers? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Great brick sewers empty into the Skahazadhan, carrying the city's wastes. They might be away in, fora few. That was how I escaped Meereen, after Scarb lost his head.\" Brown Ben made a face. \"The smell has never left me. I dream of it some nights.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Ser Jorah looked dubious."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Easier to go out than in, it would seem tome. These sewers empty into the river, you say? That would mean the mouths are right below the walls.\"\n\n\"And closed with iron grates,\" Brown Ben admitted, \"though some have rusted through, else I would have drowned in shit. Once inside, it is along foul climb in pitch-dark through amaze of brick where a man could lose himself forever. The filth is never lower than waist high, and can rise over your head from the stains I saw on the walls. There's things down there too. Biggest rats you ever saw, and worse things. Nasty.\"\n\nDaario Naharis laughed. \"As nasty as you, when you came crawling out? If any man were fool enough to try this, every slaver in Meereen would smell them the moment they emerged.\"\n\nBrown Ben shrugged. \"Her Grace asked if there was away in, so I told her... but Ben Plumm isn't going down in them sewers again, not for all the gold in the Seven Kingdoms. If there's others want to try it, though, they're welcome.\"\n\nAggo, Jhogo, and Grey Worm all tried to speak at once, but Dany raised her hand for silence. \"These sewers do not sound promising.\" Grey Worm would lead his Unsullied down the sewers if she commanded it, she knew; her bloodriders would do no less. But none of them was suited to the task. The Dothraki were horsemen, and the strength of the Unsullied was their discipline on the battlefield. Can I send men to die in the dark on such a slender hope? \"I must think on this some more. Return to your duties.\"\n\nHer captains bowed and left her with her handmaids and her dragons. But as Brown Ben was leaving, Viserion spread his pale white wings and flapped lazily at his head. One of the wings buffeted the sellsword in his face. The white dragon landed awkwardly with one foot on the man's head and one on his shoulder, shrieked, and flew off again. \"He likes you, Ben,\" said Dany."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And well he might.\" Brown Ben laughed. \"I have me a drop of the dragon blood myself, you know.\"\n\n\"You?\" Dany was startled. Plumm was a creature of the free companies, an amiable mongrel. He had abroad brown face with a broken nose and ahead of nappy grey hair, and his Dothraki mother had bequeathed him large, dark, almond-shaped eyes. He claimed to be part Braavosi, part Summer Islander, part Ibbenese, part Qohorik, part Dothraki, part Dornish, and part Westerosi, but this was the first she had heard of Targaryen blood. She gave him a searching look and said, \"How could that be?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Brown Ben, \"there was some old Plumm in the Sunset Kingdoms who wed a dragon princess. My grandmama told me the tale. He lived in King Aegon's day.\"\n\n\"Which King Aegon?\" Dany asked. \"Five Aegons have ruled in Westeros.\" Her brother's son would have been the sixth, but the Usurper's men had dashed his head against a wall.\n\n\"Five, were there? Well, that's a confusion. I could not give you a number, my queen. This old Plumm was a lord, though, must have been a famous fellow in his day, the talk of all the land. The thing was, begging your royal pardon, he had himself a cock six foot long.\"\n\nThe three bells in Dany's braid tinkled when she laughed. \"You mean inches, I think.\"\n\n\"Feet,\" Brown Ben said firmly. \"If it was inches, who'd want to talk about it, now? Your Grace.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Dany giggled like a little girl. \"Did your grandmother claim she'd actually seen this prodigy?\"\n\n\"That the old crone never did. She was half-Ibbenese and half-Qohorik, never been to Westeros, my grandfather must have told her. Some Dothraki killed him before I was born.\"\n\n\"And where did your grandfather's knowledge come from?\"\n\n\"One of them tales told at the teat, I'd guess.\" Brown Ben shrugged. \"That's all I know about Aegon the Unnumbered or old Lord Plumm's mighty manhood, I fear. I best see to my Sons.\"\n\n\"Go do that,\" Dany told him.\n\nWhen Brown Ben left, she lay back on her cushions. \"If you were grown,\" she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, \"I'd fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag.\" But it would be years before her dragons were large enough to ride. And when they are, who shall ride them? The dragon has three heads, but I have only one. She thought of Daario. If ever there was a man who could rape a woman with his eyes...\n\nTo be sure, she was just as guilty. Dany found herself stealing looks at the Tyroshi when her captains came to council, and sometimes at night she remembered the way his gold tooth glittered when he smiled. That, and his eyes. His bright blue eyes. On the road from Yunkai, Daario had brought her a flower or a sprig of some plant every evening when he made his report... to help her learn the land, he said. Waspwillow, dusky roses, wild mint, lady's lace, daggerleaf, broom, prickly ben, harpy's gold... He tried to spare me the sight of the dead children too. He should not have done that, but he meant it kindly. And Daario Naharis made her laugh, which Ser Jorah never did."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Dany tried to imagine what it would be like if she allowed Daario to kiss her, the way Jorah had kissed heron the ship. The thought was exciting and disturbing, both at once. It is too great a risk. The Tyroshi sellsword was not a good man, no one needed to tell her that. Under the smiles and the jests he was dangerous, even cruel. Sallor and Prendahl had woken one morning as his partners; that very night he'd given her their heads. Khal Drogo could be cruel as well, and there was never a man more dangerous. She had come to love him all the same. Could I love Daario? What would it mean, if I took him into my bed? Would that make him one of the heads of the dragon? Ser Jorah would be angry, she knew, but he was the one who'd said she had to take two husbands. Perhaps I should marry them both and be done with it.\n\nBut these were foolish thoughts. She had a city to take, and dreaming of kisses and some sellsword's bright blue eyes would not help her breach the walls of Meereen. I am the blood of the dragon, Dany reminded herself. Her thoughts were spinning in circles, like a rat chasing its tail. Suddenly she could not stand the close confines of the pavilion another moment. I want to feel the wind on my face, and smell the sea. \"Missandei,\" she called, \"have my silver saddled. Your own mount as well.\"\n\nThe little scribe bowed. \"As Your Grace commands. Shall I summon your bloodriders to guard you?\"\n\n\"We'll take Arstan. I do not mean to leave the camps.\" She had no enemies among her children. And the old squire would not talk too much as Belwas would, or look at her like Daario."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The grove of burnt olive trees in which she'd raised her pavilion stood beside the sea, between the Dothraki camp and that of the Unsullied. When the horses had been saddled, Dany and her companions set out along the shoreline, away from the city. Even so, she could feel Meereen at her back, mocking her. When she looked over one shoulder, there it stood, the afternoon sun blazing off the bronze harpy atop the Great Pyramid. Inside Meereen the slavers would soon be reclining in their fringed tokars to feast on lamb and olives, unborn puppies, honeyed dormice and other such delicacies, whilst outside her children went hungry. A sudden wild anger filled her. I will bring you down, she swore.\n\nAs they rode past the stakes and pits that surrounded the eunuch encampment, Dany could hear Grey Worm and his sergeants running one company through a series of drills with shield, shortsword, and heavy spear. Another company was bathing in the sea, clad only in white linen breechclouts. The eunuchs were very clean, she had noticed. Some of her sellswords smelled as if they had not washed or changed their clothes since her father lost the Iron Throne, but the Unsullied bathed each evening, even if they'd marched all day. When no water was available they cleansed themselves with sand, the Dothraki way.\n\nThe eunuchs knelt as she passed, raising clenched fists to their breasts. Dany returned the salute. The tide was coming in, and the surf foamed about the feet of her silver. She could see her ships standing out to sea. Balerion floated nearest; the great cog once known as Saduleon, her sails furled. Further out were the galleys Meraxes and Vhagar, formerly Joso's Prank and Summer Sun. They were Magister Illyrio's ships, in truth, not hers at all, and yet she had given them new names with hardly a thought. Dragon names, and more; in old Valyria before the Doom, Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar had been gods."},{"from":"human","value":"South of the ordered realm of stakes, pits, drills, and bathing eunuchs lay the encampments of her freedmen, afar noisier and more chaotic place."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Dany had armed the former slaves as best she could with weapons from Astapor and Yunkai, and Ser Jorah had organized the fighting men into four strong companies, yet she saw no one drilling here. They passed a driftwood fire where a hundred people had gathered to roast the carcass of a horse. She could smell the meat and hear the fat sizzling as the spit boys turned, but the sight only made her frown.\n\nChildren ran behind their horses, skipping and laughing. Instead of salutes, voices called to heron every side in a babble of tongues. Some of the freedmen greeted her as'Mother,\" while others begged for boons or favors. Some prayed for strange gods to bless her, and some asked her to bless them instead. She smiled at them, turning right and left, touching their hands when they raised them, letting those who knelt reach up to touch her stirrup or her leg. Many of the freedmen believed there was good fortune in her touch. If it helps give them courage, let them touch me, she thought. There are hard trials yet ahead...\n\nDany had stopped to speak to a pregnant woman who wanted the Mother of Dragons to name her baby when someone reached up and grabbed her left wrist. Turning, she glimpsed a tall ragged man with a shaved head and a sunburnt face. \"Not so hard,\" she started to say, but before she could finish he'd yanked her bodily from the saddle. The ground came up and knocked the breath from her, as her silver whinnied and backed away. Stunned, Dany rolled to her side and pushed herself onto one elbow...\n\n... and then she saw the sword.\n\n\"There's the treacherous sow,\" he said. \"I knew you'd come to get your feet kissed one day.\" His head was bald as a melon, his nose red and peeling, but she knew that voice and those pale green eyes. \"I'm going to start by cutting off your teats.\" Dany was dimly aware of Missandei shouting for help. A freedman edged forward, but only a step. One quick slash, and he was on his knees, blood running down his face. Mero wiped his sword on his breeches. \"Who's next?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"I am.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Arstan Whitebeard leapt from his horse and stood over her, the salt wind riffling through his snowy hair, both hands on his tall hardwood staff.\n\n\"Grandfather,\" Mero said, \"runoff before I break your stick in two and bugger you with-\"\n\nThe old man feinted with one end of the staff, pulled it back, and whipped the other end about faster than Dany would have believed. The Titan's Bastard staggered back into the surf, spitting blood and broken teeth from the ruin of his mouth. Whitebeard put Dany behind him. Mero slashed at his face. The old man jerked back, cat-quick. The staff thumped Mero's ribs, sending him reeling. Arstan splashed sideways, parried a looping cut, danced away from a second, checked a third mid-swing. The moves were so fast she could hardly follow. Missandei was pulling Dany to her feet when she heard a crack. She thought Arstan's staff had snapped until she saw the jagged bone jutting from Mero's calf. Ashe fell, the Titan's Bastard twisted and lunged, sending his point straight at the old man's chest. Whitebeard swept the blade aside almost contemptuously and smashed the other end of his staff against the big man's temple. Mero went sprawling, blood bubbling from his mouth as the waves washed over him. A moment later the freedmen washed over him too, knives and stones and angry fists rising and falling in a frenzy.\n\nDany turned away, sickened. She was more frightened now than when it had been happening. He would have killed me.\n\n\"Your Grace.\" Arstan knelt. \"I am an old man, and shamed. He should never have gotten close enough to seize you. I was lax. I did not know him without his beard and hair.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 58\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"So they went exploring, Jojen Reed leading, Bran in his basket on Hodor's back, Summer padding by their side. Once the direwolf bolted through a dark door and returned a moment later with a grey rat between his teeth. The Rat Cook, Bran thought, but it was the wrong color, and only as big as a cat. The Rat Cook was white, and almost as huge as a sow...\\n\\nThere were a lot of dark doors in the Nightfort, and a lot of rats. Bran could hear them scurrying through the vaults and cellars, and the maze of pitch-black tunnels that connected them. Jojen wanted to go poking around down there, but Hodor said'Hodor\\\" to that, and Bran said'No.\\\" There were worse things than rats down in the dark beneath the Nightfort.\\n\\n\\\"This seems an old place,\\\" Jojen said as they walked down a gallery where the sunlight fell in dusty shafts through empty windows.\\n\\n\\\"Twice as old as Castle Black,\\\" Bran said, remembering. \\\"It was the first castle on the Wall, and the largest.\\\" But it had also been the first abandoned, all the way back in the time of the Old King. Even then it had been three-quarters empty and too costly to maintain. Good Queen Alysanne had suggested that the Watch replace it with a smaller, newer castle at a spot only seven miles east, where the Wall curved along the shore of a beautiful green lake. Deep Lake had been paid for by the queen's jewels and built by the men the Old King had sent north, and the black brothers had abandoned the Nightfort to the rats.\\n\\nThat was two centuries past, though. Now Deep Lake stood as empty as the castle it had replaced, and the Nightfort...\\n\\n\\\"There are ghosts here,\\\" Bran said. Hodor had heard all the stories before, but Jojen might not have. \\\"Old ghosts, from before the Old King, even before Aegon the Dragon, seventy-nine deserters who went south to be outlaws. One was Lord Ryswell's youngest son, so when they reached the barrowlands they sought shelter at his castle, but Lord Ryswell took them captive and returned them to the Nightfort. The Lord Commander had holes hewn in the top of the Wall and he put the deserters in them and sealed them up alive in the ice. They have spears and horns and they all face north. The seventy-nine sentinels, they're called. They left their posts in life, so in death their watch goes on forever. Years later, when Lord Ryswell was old and dying, he had himself carried to the Nightfort so he could take the black and stand beside his son. He'd sent him back to the Wall for honor's sake, but he loved him still, so he came to share his watch.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They spent half the day poking through the castle. Some of the towers had fallen down and others looked unsafe, but they climbed the bell tower (the bells were gone) and the rookery (the birds were gone). Beneath the brewhouse they found a vault of huge oaken casks that boomed hollowly when Hodor knocked on them. They found a library (the shelves and bins had collapsed, the books were gone, and rats were everywhere). They found a dank and dim-lit dungeon with cells enough to hold five hundred captives, but when Bran grabbed hold of one of the rusted bars it broke off in his hand. Only one crumbling wall remained of the great hall, the bathhouse seemed to be sinking into the ground, and a huge thornbush had conquered the practice yard outside the armory where black brothers had once labored with spear and shield and sword. The armory and the forge still stood, however, though cobwebs, rats, and dust had taken the places of blades, bellows, and anvil. Sometimes Summer would hear sounds that Bran seemed deaf to, or bare his teeth at nothing, the fur on the back of his neck bristling... but the Rat Cook never put in an appearance, nor the seventy-nine sentinels, nor Mad Axe. Bran was much relieved. Maybe it is only a ruined empty castle.\\n\\nBy the time Meera returned, the sun was only a sword's breath above the western hills. \\\"What did you see?\\\" her brother Jojen asked her.\\n\\n\\\"I saw the haunted forest,\\\" she said in a wistful tone. \\\"Hills rising wild as far as the eye can see, covered with trees that no axe has ever touched. I saw the sunlight glinting off a lake, and clouds sweeping in from the west. I saw patches of old snow, and icicles long as pikes. I even saw an eagle circling. I think he saw me too. I waved at him.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Did you see away down?\\\" asked Jojen.\\n\\nShe shook her head. \\\"No. It's a sheer drop, and the ice is so smooth... I might be able to make the descent if I had a good rope and an axe to chop out handholds, but...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"... but not us,\\\" Jojen finished.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" his sister agreed. \\\"Are you sure this is the place you saw in your dream? Maybe we have the wrong castle.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. This is the castle. There is agate here.\\\"\\n\\nYes, thought Bran, but it's blocked by stone and ice.\\n\\nAs the sun began to set the shadows of the towers lengthened and the wind blew harder, sending gusts of dry dead leaves rattling through the yards. The gathering gloom put Bran in mind of another of Old Nan's stories, the tale of Night's King. He had been the thirteenth man to lead the Night's Watch, she said; a warrior who knew no fear. \\\"And that was the fault in him,\\\" she would add, \\\"for all men must know fear.\\\" A woman was his downfall; a woman glimpsed from atop the Wall, with skin as white as the moon and eyes like blue stars. Fearing nothing, he chased her and caught her and loved her, though her skin was cold as ice, and when he gave his seed to her he gave his soul as well.\\n\\nHe brought her back to the Nightfort and proclaimed her a queen and himself her king, and with strange sorceries he bound his Sworn Brothers to his will. For thirteen years they had ruled, Night's King and his corpse queen, till finally the Stark of Winterfell and Joramun of the wildlings had joined to free the Watch from bondage. After his fall, when it was found he had been sacrificing to the Others, all records of Night's King had been destroyed, his very name forbidden.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Some say he was a Bolton,\\\" Old Nan would always end. \\\"Some say a Magnar out of Skagos, some say Umber, Flint, or Norrey. Some would have you think he was a Woodfoot, from them who ruled Bear Island before the ironmen came. He never was. He was a Stark, the brother of the man who brought him down.\\\" She always pinched Bran on the nose then, he would never forget it. \\\"He was a Stark of Winterfell, and who can say? Mayhaps his name was Brandon. Mayhaps he slept in this very bed in this very room.\\\"\\n\\nNo, Bran thought, but he walked in this castle, where we'll sleep tonight. He did not like that notion very much at all. Night's King was only a man by light of day, Old Nan would always say, but the night was his to rule. And it's getting dark.\\n\\nThe Reeds decided that they would sleep in the kitchens, a stone octagon with a broken dome. It looked to offer better shelter than most of the other buildings, even though a crooked weirwood had burst up through the slate floor beside the huge central well, stretching slantwise toward the hole in the roof, its bone-white branches reaching for the sun. It was a queer kind of tree, skinnier than any other weirwood that Bran had ever seen and faceless as well, but it made him feel as if the old gods were with him here, at least.\\n\\nThat was the only thing he liked about the kitchens, though. The roof was mostly there, so they'd be dry if it rained again, but he didn't think they would ever get warm here. You could feel the cold seeping up through the slate floor. Bran did not like the shadows either, or the huge brick ovens that surrounded them like open mouths, or the rusted meat hooks, or the scars and stains he saw in the butcher's block along one wall. That was where the Rat Cook chopped the prince to pieces, he knew, and he baked the pie in one of these ovens.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The well was the thing he liked the least, though. It was a good twelve feet across, all stone, with steps built into its side, circling down and down into darkness. The walls were damp and covered with niter, but none of them could seethe water at the bottom, not even Meera with her sharp hunter's eyes. \\\"Maybe it doesn't have a bottom,\\\" Bran said uncertainly.\\n\\nHodor peered over the knee-high lip of the well and said, \\\"HODOR!\\\" The word echoed down the well, \\\"Hodorhodorhodorhodor,\\\" fainter and fainter, \\\"hodorhodorhodorhodor,\\\" until it was less than a whisper. Hodor looked startled. Then he laughed, and bent to scoop a broken piece of slate off the floor.\\n\\n\\\"Hodor, don't!\\\" said Bran, but too late. Hodor tossed the slate over the edge. \\\"You shouldn't have done that. You don't know what's down there. You might have hurt something, or... or woken something up.\\\"\\n\\nHodor looked at him innocently. \\\"Hodor?\\\"\\n\\nFar, far, far below, they heard the sound as the stone found water. It wasn't a splash, not truly. It was more a gulp, as if whatever was below had opened a quivering gelid mouth to swallow Hodor's stone. Faint echoes traveled up the well, and fora moment Bran thought he heard something moving, thrashing about in the water. \\\"Maybe we shouldn't stay here,\\\" he said uneasily.\\n\\n\\\"By the well?\\\" asked Meera. \\\"Orin the Nightfort?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" said Bran.\\n\\nShe laughed, and sent Hodor out to gather wood. Summer went too. It was almost dark by then, and the direwolf wanted to hunt.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Hodor returned alone with both arms full of deadwood and broken branches.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jojen Reed took his flint and knife and set about lighting afire while Meera boned the fish she'd caught at the last stream they'd crossed. Bran wondered how many years had passed since there had last been a supper cooked in the kitchens of the Nightfort. He wondered who had cooked it too, though maybe it was better not to know.\\n\\nWhen the flames were blazing nicely Meera put the fish on. At least it's not a meat pie. The Rat Cook had cooked the son of the Andal king in a big pie with onions, carrots, mushrooms, lots of pepper and salt, a rasher of bacon, and a dark red Dornish wine. Then he served him to his father, who praised the taste and had a second slice. Afterward the gods transformed the cook into a monstrous white rat who could only eat his own young. He had roamed the Nightfort ever since, devouring his children, but still his hunger was not sated. \\\"It was not for murder that the gods cursed him,\\\" Old Nan said, \\\"nor for serving the Andal king his son in a pie. A man has aright to vengeance. But he slew a guest beneath his roof, and that the gods cannot forgive.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We should sleep,\\\" Jojen said solemnly, after they were full. The fire was burning low. He stirred it with a stick. \\\"Perhaps I'll have another green dream to show us the way.\\\"\\n\\nHodor was already curled up and snoring lightly. From time to time he thrashed beneath his cloak, and whimpered something that might have been'Hodor.\\\" Bran wriggled closer to the fire. The warmth felt good, and the soft crackling of flames soothed him, but sleep would not come. Outside the wind was sending armies of dead leaves marching across the courtyards to scratch faintly at the doors and windows. The sounds made him think of Old Nan's stories. He could almost hear the ghostly sentinels calling to each other atop the Wall and winding their ghostly warhorns. Pale moonlight slanted down through the hole in the dome, painting the branches of the weirwood as they strained up toward the roof. It looked as if the tree was trying to catch the moon and drag it down into the well. Old gods, Bran prayed, if you hear me, don't send a dream tonight. Or if you do, make it a good dream. The gods made no answer.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bran made himself close his eyes. Maybe he even slept some, or maybe he was just drowsing, floating the way you do when you are half awake and half asleep, trying not to think about Mad Axe or the Rat Cook or the thing that came in the night.\\n\\nThen he heard the noise.\\n\\nHis eyes opened. What was that? He held his breath. Did I dream it? Was I having a stupid nightmare? He didn't want to wake Meera and Jojen fora bad dream, but... there... a soft scuffling sound, far off... Leaves, it's leaves rattling off the walls outside and rustling together... or the wind, it could be the wind... The sound wasn't coming from outside, though. Bran felt the hairs on his arm start to rise. The sound's inside, it's inhere with us, and it's getting louder. He pushed himself up onto an elbow, listening. There was wind, and blowing leaves as well, but this was something else. Footsteps. Someone was coming this way. Something was coming this way.\\n\\nIt wasn't the sentinels, he knew. The sentinels never left the Wall. But there might be other ghosts in the Nightfort, ones even more terrible. He remembered what Old Nan had said of Mad Axe, how he took his boots off and prowled the castle halls barefoot in the dark, with never a sound to tell you where he was except for the drops of blood that fell from his axe and his elbows and the end of his wet red beard. Or maybe it wasn't Mad Axe at all, maybe it was the thing that came in the night. The \\\"prentice boys all saw it, Old Nan said, but afterward when they told their Lord Commander every description had been different. And three died within the year, and the fourth went mad, and a hundred years later when the thing had come again, the'prentice boys were seen shambling along behind it, all in chains.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"That was only a story, though.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He was just scaring himself. There was nothing that comes in the night, Maester Luwin had said so. If there had ever been such a thing, it was gone from the world now, like giants and dragons. It's nothing, Bran thought.\\n\\nBut the sounds were louder now.\\n\\nIt's coming from the well, he realized. That made him even more afraid. Something was coming up from under the ground, coming up out of the dark. Hodor woke it up. He woke it up with that stupid piece of slate, and now it's coming. It was hard to hear over Hodor's snores and the thumping of his own heart. Was that the sound blood made dripping from an axe? Or was it the faint, far-off rattling of ghostly chains? Bran listened harder. Footsteps. It was definitely footsteps, each one a little louder than the one before. He couldn't tell how many, though. The well made the sounds echo. He didn't hear any dripping, or chains either, but there was something else... a high thin whimpering sound, like someone in pain, and heavy muffled breathing. But the footsteps were loudest. The footsteps were coming closer.\\n\\nBran was too frightened to shout. The fire had burned down to a few faint embers and his friends were all asleep. He almost slipped his skin and reached out for his wolf, but Summer might be miles away. He couldn't leave his friends helpless in the dark to face whatever was coming up out of the well. I told them not to come here, he thought miserably. I told them there were ghosts. I told them that we should go to Castle Black.\\n\\nThe footfalls sounded heavy to Bran, slow, ponderous, scraping against the stone. It must be huge. Mad Axe had been a big man in Old Nan's story, and the thing that came in the night had been monstrous. Back in Winterfell, Sansa had told him that the demons of the dark couldn't touch him if he hid beneath his blanket. He almost did that now, before he remembered that he was a prince, and almost a man grown.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bran wriggled across the floor, dragging his dead legs behind him until he could reach out and touch Meera on the foot. She woke at once. He had never known anyone to wake as quick as Meera Reed, or to be so alert so fast. Bran pressed a finger to his mouth so she'd know not to speak. She heard the sound at once, he could see that on her face; the echoing footfalls, the faint whimpering, the heavy breathing.\\n\\nMeera rose to her feet without a word and reclaimed her weapons. With her three-pronged frog spear in her right hand and the folds of her net dangling from her left, she slipped barefoot toward the well. Jojen dozed on, oblivious, while Hodor muttered and thrashed in restless sleep. She kept to the shadows as she moved, stepped around the shaft of moonlight as quiet as a cat. Bran was watching her all the while, and even he could barely seethe faint sheen of her spear. I can't let her fight the thing alone, he thought. Summer was faraway, but...\\n\\n... he slipped his skin, and reached for Hodor.\\n\\nIt was not like sliding into Summer. That was so easy now that Bran hardly thought about it. This was harder, like trying to pull a left boot on your right foot. It fit all wrong, and the boot was scared too, the boot didn't know what was happening, the boot was pushing the foot away. He tasted vomit in the back of Hodor's throat, and that was almost enough to make him flee. Instead he squirmed and shoved, sat up, gathered his legs under him-his huge strong legs-and rose. I'm standing. He took a step. I'm walking. It was such a strange feeling that he almost fell. He could see himself on the cold stone floor, a little broken thing, but he wasn't broken now. He grabbed Hodor's longsword. The breathing was as loud as a blacksmith's bellows.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"From the well came a wail, a piercing creech that went through him like a knife. A huge black shape heaved itself up into the darkness and lurched toward the moonlight, and the fear rose up in Bran so thick that before he could even think of drawing Hodor's sword the way he'd meant to, he found himself back on the floor again with Hodor roaring'Hodor hodor HODOR,\\\" the way he had in the lake tower whenever the lightning flashed. But the thing that came in the night was screaming too, and thrashing wildly in the folds of Meera's net. Bran saw her spear dart out of the darkness to snap at it, and the thing staggered and fell, struggling with the net. The wailing was still coming from the well, even louder now. On the floor the black thing flopped and fought, screeching, \\\"No, no, don't, please, DON'T...\\\"\\n\\nMeera stood over him, the moonlight shining silver off the prongs of her frog spear. \\\"Who are you?\\\" she demanded.\\n\\n\\\"I'm SAM,\\\" the black thing sobbed. \\\"Sam, Sam, I'm Sam, let me out, you stabbed me...\\\" He rolled through the puddle of moonlight, flailing and flopping in the tangles of Meera's net. Hodor was still shouting, \\\"Hodor hodor hodor.\\\"\\n\\nIt was Jojen who fed the sticks to the fire and blew on them until the flames leapt up crackling. Then there was light, and Bran saw the pale thin-faced girl by the lip of the well, all bundled up in furs and skins beneath an enormous black cloak, trying to shush the screaming baby in her arms. The thing on the floor was pushing an arm through the net to reach his knife, but the loops wouldn't let him. He wasn't any monster beast, or even Mad Axe drenched in gore; only a big fat man dressed up in black wool, black fur, black leather, and blackmail. \\\"He's a black brother,\\\" said Bran. \\\"Meera, he's from the Night's Watch.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Hodor?\\\" Hodor squatted down on his haunches to peer at the man in the net. \\\"Hodor,\\\" he said again, hooting.\\n\\n\\\"The Night's Watch, yes.\\\" The fat man was still breathing like a bellows. \\\"I'm a brother of the Watch.\\\" He had one cord under his chins, forcing his head up, and others digging deep into his cheeks. \\\"I'm a crow, please. Let me out of this.\\\"\\n\\nBran was suddenly uncertain. \\\"Are you the three-eyed crow?\\\" He can't be the three-eyed crow.\\n\\n\\\"I don't think so.\\\" The fat man rolled his eyes, but there were only two of them. \\\"I'm only Sam. Samwell Tarly. Let me out, it's hurting me.\\\" He began to struggle again.\\n\\nMeera made a disgusted sound. \\\"Stop flopping around. If you tear my net I'll throw you back down the well. Just lie still and I'll untangle you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who are you?\\\" Jojen asked the girl with the baby.\\n\\n\\\"Gilly,\\\" she said. \\\"For the gillyflower. He's Sam. We never meant to scare you.\\\" She rocked her baby and murmured at it, and finally it stopped crying.\\n\\nMeera was untangling the fat brother. Jojen went to the well and peered down. \\\"Where did you come from?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"From Craster's,\\\" the girl said. \\\"Are you the one?\\\"\\n\\nJojen turned to look at her. \\\"The one?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He said that Sam wasn't the one,\\\" she explained. \\\"There was someone else, he said. The one he was sent to find.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who said?\\\" Bran demanded.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Coldhands,\\\" Gilly answered softly.\\n\\nMeera peeled back one end of her net, and the fat man managed to sit up. He was shaking, Bran saw, and still struggling to catch his breath. \\\"He said there would be people,\\\" he huffed. \\\"People in the castle. I didn't know you'd be right at the top of the steps, though. I didn't know you'd throw a net on me or stab me in the stomach.\\\" He touched his belly with a black-gloved hand. \\\"Am I bleeding? I can't see.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It was just a poke to get you off your feet,\\\" said Meera. \\\"Here, let me have a look.\\\" She went to one knee, and felt around his navel. \\\"You're wearing mail. I never got near your skin.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, it hurt all the same,\\\" Sam complained.\\n\\n\\\"Are you really a brother of the Night's Watch?\\\" Bran asked.\\n\\nThe fat man's chins jiggled when he nodded. His skin looked pale and saggy. \\\"Only a steward. I took care of Lord Mormont's ravens.\\\" Fora moment he looked like he was going to cry. \\\"I lost them at the Fist, though. It was my fault. I got us lost too. I couldn't even find the Wall. It's a hundred leagues long and seven hundred feet high and I couldn't find it!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, you've found it now,\\\" said Meera. \\\"Lift your rump off the ground, I want my net back.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How did you get through the Wall?\\\" Jojen demanded as Sam struggled to his feet. \\\"Does the well lead to an underground river, is that where you came from? You're not even wet...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There's agate,\\\" said fat Sam. \\\"A hidden gate, as old as the Wall itself. The Black Gate, he called it.\\\"\\n\\nThe Reeds exchanged a look. \\\"We'll find this gate at the bottom of the well?\\\" asked Jojen.\\n\\nSam shook his head. \\\"You won't. I have to take you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" Meera demanded. \\\"If there's agate...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You won't find it. If you did it wouldn't open. Not for you. It's the Black Gate.\\\" Sam plucked at the faded black wool of his sleeve. \\\"Only a man of the Night's Watch can open it, he said. A Sworn Brother who has said his words.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He said.\\\" Jojen frowned. \\\"This... Coldhands?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That wasn't his true name,\\\" said Gilly, rocking. \\\"We only called him that, Sam and me. His hands were cold as ice, but he saved us from the dead men, him and his ravens, and he brought us hereon his elk.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"His elk?\\\" said Bran, wonderstruck.\\n\\n\\\"His elk?\\\" said Meera, startled.\\n\\n\\\"His ravens?\\\" said Jojen.\\n\\n\\\"Hodor?\\\" said Hodor.\\n\\n\\\"Was he green?\\\" Bran wanted to know. \\\"Did he have antlers?\\\"\\n\\nThe fat man was confused. \\\"The elk?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Coldhands,\\\" said Bran impatiently. \\\"The green men ride on elks, Old Nan used to say. Sometimes they have antlers too.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He wasn't a green man. He wore blacks, like a brother of the Watch, but he was pale as a wight, with hands so cold that at first I was afraid. The wights have blue eyes, though, and they don't have tongues, or they've forgotten how to use them.\\\" The fat man turned to Jojen. \\\"He'll be waiting. We should go. Do you have anything warmer to wear? The Black Gate is cold, and the other side of the Wallis even colder. You-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Why didn't he come with you?\\\" Meera gestured toward Gilly and her babe. \\\"They came with you, why not him? Why didn't you bring him through this Black Gate too?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He... he can't.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why not?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Wall. The Wallis more than justice and stone, he said. There are spells woven into it... old ones, and strong. He cannot pass beyond the Wall.\\\"\\n\\nIt grew very quiet in the castle kitchen then. Bran could hear the soft crackle of the flames, the wind stirring the leaves in the night, the creak of the skinny weirwood reaching for the moon. Beyond the gates the monsters live, and the giants and the ghouls, he remembered Old Nan saying, but they cannot pass so long as the Wall stands strong. So go to sleep, my little Brandon, my baby boy. You needn't fear. There are no monsters here.\\n\\n\\\"I am not the one you were told to bring,\\\" Jojen Reed told fat Sam in his stained and baggy blacks. \\\"He is.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh.\\\" Sam looked down at him uncertainly. It might have been just then that he realized Bran was crippled. \\\"I don't... I'm not strong enough to carry you, I...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hodor can carry me.\\\" Bran pointed at his basket. \\\"I ride in that, upon his back.\\\"\\n\\nSam was staring at him. \\\"You're Jon Snow's brother. The one who fell...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" said Jojen. \\\"That boy is dead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't tell,\\\" Bran warned. \\\"Please.\\\"\\n\\nSam looked confused fora moment, but finally he said, \\\"I... I can keep a secret. Gilly too.\\\" When he looked at her, the girl nodded. \\\"Jon... Jon was my brother too. He was the best friend I ever had, but he went off with Qhorin Halfhand to scout the Frostfangs and never came back. We were waiting for him on the Fist when... when...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Jon's here,\\\" Bran said. \\\"Summer saw him. He was with some wildlings, but they killed a man and Jon took his horse and escaped. I bet he went to Castle Black.\\\"\\n\\nSam turned big eyes on Meera. \\\"You're certain it was Jon? You saw him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm Meera,\\\" Meera said with a smile. \\\"Summer is...\\\"\\n\\nA shadow detached itself from the broken dome above and leapt down through the moonlight. Even with his injured leg, the wolf landed as light and quiet as a snowfall. The girl Gilly made a frightened sound and clutched her babe so hard against her that it began to cry again.\\n\\n\\\"He won't hurt you,\\\" Bran said. \\\"That's Summer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Jon said you all had wolves.\\\" Sam pulled off a glove. \\\"I know Ghost.\\\" He held out a shaky hand, the fingers white and soft and fat as little sausages. Summer padded closer, sniffed them, and gave the hand a lick.\\n\\nThat was when Bran made up his mind. \\\"We'll go with you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All of you?\\\" Sam seemed surprised by that.\\n\\nMeera ruffled Bran's hair. \\\"He's our prince.\\\"\\n\\nSummer circled the well, sniffing. He paused by the top step and looked back at Bran. He wants to go.\\n\\n\\\"Will Gilly be safe if I leave her here till I comeback?\\\" Sam asked them.\\n\\n\\\"She should be,\\\" said Meera. \\\"She's welcome to our fire.\\\"\\n\\nJojen said, \\\"The castle is empty.\\\"\\n\\nGilly looked around. \\\"Craster used to tell us tales of castles, but I never knew they'd be so big.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"It's only the kitchens.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bran wondered what she'd think when she saw Winterfell, if she ever did.\\n\\nIt took them a few minutes to gather their things and hoist Bran into his wicker seat on Hodor's back. By the time they were ready to go, Gilly sat nursing her babe by the fire. \\\"You'll comeback for me,\\\" she said to Sam.\\n\\n\\\"As soon as I can,\\\" he promised, \\\"then we'll go somewhere warm.\\\" When he heard that, part of Bran wondered what he was doing. Will I ever go someplace warm again?\\n\\n\\\"I'll go first, I know the way.\\\" Sam hesitated at the top. \\\"There's just so many steps,\\\" he sighed, before he started down. Jojen followed, then Summer, then Hodor with Bran riding on his back. Meera took the rear, with her spear and net in hand.\\n\\nIt was along way down. The top of the well was bathed in moonlight, but it grew smaller and dimmer every time they went around. Their footsteps echoed off the damp stones, and the water sounds grew louder. \\\"Should we have brought torches?\\\" Jojen asked.\\n\\n\\\"Your eyes will adjust,\\\" said Sam. \\\"Keep one hand on the wall and you won't fall.\\\"\\n\\nThe well grew darker and colder with every turn. When Bran finally lifted his head around to look backup the shaft, the top of the well was no bigger than a half-moon. \\\"Hodor,\\\" Hodor whispered, \\\"Hodorhodorhodorhodorhodorhodor,\\\" the well whispered back. The water sounds were close, but when Bran peered down he saw only blackness.\\n\\nA turn or two later Sam stopped suddenly. He was a quarter of the way around the well from Bran and Hodor and six feet farther down, yet Bran could barely see him. He could seethe door, though. The Black Gate, Sam had called it, but it wasn't black at all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was white weirwood, and there was a face on it.\\n\\nAglow came from the wood, like milk and moonlight, so faint it scarcely seemed to touch anything beyond the door itself, not even Sam standing right before it. The face was old and pale, wrinkled and shrunken. It looks dead. Its mouth was closed, and its eyes; its cheeks were sunken, its brow withered, its chin sagging. If a man could live fora thousand years and never die but just grow older, his face might come to look like that.\\n\\nThe door opened its eyes.\\n\\nThey were white too, and blind. \\\"Who are you?\\\" the door asked, and the well whispered, \\\"Who-who-who-who-who-who-who.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am the sword in the darkness,\\\" Samwell Tarly said. \\\"I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers. I am the shield that guards the realms of men.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then pass,\\\" the door said. Its lips opened, wide and wider and wider still, until nothing at all remained but a great gaping mouth in a ring of wrinkles. Sam stepped aside and waved Jojen through ahead of him. Summer followed, sniffing as he went, and then it was Bran's turn. Hodor ducked, but not low enough. The door's upper lip brushed softly against the top of Bran's head, and a drop of water fell on him and ran slowly down his nose. It was strangely warm, and salty as a tear.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"DAENERYS\\n\\nMeereen was as large as Astapor and Yunkai combined. Like her sister cities she was built of brick, but where Astapor had been red and Yunkai yellow, Meereen was made with bricks of many colors. Her walls were higher than Yunkai's and in better repair, studded with bastions and anchored by great defensive towers at every angle. Behind them, huge against the sky, could be seen the top of the Great Pyramid, a monstrous thing eight hundred feet tall with a towering bronze harpy at its top.\\n\\n\\\"The harpy is a craven thing,\\\" Daario Naharis said when he saw it. \\\"She has a woman's heart and a chicken's legs. Small wonder her sons hide behind their walls.\\\"\\n\\nBut the hero did not hide. He rode out the city gates, armored in scales of copper and jet and mounted upon a white charger whose striped pink-and-white barding matched the silk cloak flowing from the hero's shoulders. The lance he bore was fourteen feet long, swirled in pink and white, and his hair was shaped and teased and lacquered into two great curling ram's horns. Back and forth he rode beneath the walls of multicolored bricks, challenging the besiegers to send a champion forth to meet him in single combat.\\n\\nHer bloodriders were in such a fever to go meet him that they almost came to blows. \\\"Blood of my blood,\\\" Dany told them, \\\"your place is hereby me. This man is a buzzing fly, no more. Ignore him, he will soon begone.\\\" Aggo, Jhogo, and Rakharo were brave warriors, but they were young, and too valuable to risk. They kept her khalasar together, and were her best scouts too.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"That was wisely done,\\\" Ser Jorah said as they watched from the front of her pavilion. \\\"Let the fool ride back and forth and shout until his horse goes lame. He does us no harm.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He does,\\\" Arstan Whitebeard insisted. \\\"Wars are not won with swords and spears alone, ser. Two hosts of equal strength may come together, but one will break and run whilst the other stands. This hero builds courage in the hearts of his own men and plants the seeds of doubt in ours.\\\"\\n\\nSer Jorah snorted. \\\"And if our champion were to lose, what sort of seed would that plant?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A man who fears battle wins no victories, ser.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We're not speaking of battle. Meereen's gates will not open if that fool falls. Why risk a life for naught?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"For honor, I would say.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have heard enough.\\\" Dany did not need their squabbling on top of all the other troubles that plagued her. Meereen posed dangers far more serious than one pink-and-white hero shouting insults, and she could not let herself be distracted. Her host numbered more than eighty thousand after Yunkai, but fewer than a quarter of them were soldiers. The rest... well, Ser Jorah called them mouths with feet, and soon they would be starving.\\n\\nThe Great Masters of Meereen had withdrawn before Dany's advance, harvesting all they could and burning what they could not harvest. Scorched fields and poisoned wells had greeted her at every hand. Worst of all, they had nailed a slave child upon every milepost along the coast road from Yunkai, nailed them up still living with their entrails hanging out and one arm always outstretched to point the way to Meereen. Leading her van, Daario had given orders for the children to betaken down before Dany had to see them, but she had countermanded him as soon as she was told. \\\"I will see them,\\\" she said. \\\"I will see everyone, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"By the time they came to Meereen sitting on the salt coast beside her river, the count stood atone hundred and sixty-three.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I will have this city, Dany pledged to herself once more.\\n\\nThe pink-and-white hero taunted the besiegers for an hour, mocking their manhood, mothers, wives, and gods. Meereen's defenders cheered him on from the city walls. \\\"His name is Oznak zo Pahl,\\\" Brown Ben Plumm told her when he arrived for the war council. He was the new commander of the Second Sons, chosen by a vote of his fellow sellswords. \\\"I was bodyguard to his uncle once, before I joined the Second Sons. The Great Masters, what a ripe lot o\\\" maggots. The women weren't so bad, though it was worth your life to look at the wrong one the wrong way. I knew a man, Scarb, this Oznak cut his liver out. Claimed to be defending a lady's honor, he did, said Scarb had raped her with his eyes. How do you rape a wench with eyes, I ask you? But his uncle is the richest man in Meereen and his father commands the city guard, so I had to run like a rat before he killed me too.\\\"\\n\\nThey watched Oznak zo Pahl dismount his white charger, undo his robes, pullout his manhood, and direct a stream of urine in the general direction of the olive grove where Dany's gold pavilion stood among the burnt trees. He was still pissing when Daario Naharis rode up, arakh in hand. \\\"Shall I cut that off for you and stuff it down his mouth, Your Grace?\\\" His tooth shone gold amidst the blue of his forked beard.\\n\\n\\\"It's his city I want, not his meager manhood.\\\" She was growing angry, however. If I ignore this any longer, my own people will think me weak. Yet who could she send? She needed Daario as much as she did her bloodriders. Without the flamboyant Tyroshi, she had no hold on the Stormcrows, many of whom had been followers of Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor the Bald.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"High on the walls of Meereen, the jeers had grown louder, and now hundreds of the defenders were taking their lead from the hero and pissing down through the ramparts to show their contempt for the besiegers. They are pissing on slaves, to show how little they fear us, she thought. They would never dare such a thing if it were a Dothraki khalasar outside their gates.\\n\\n\\\"This challenge must be met,\\\" Arstan said again.\\n\\n\\\"It will be.\\\" Dany said, as the hero tucked his penis away again. \\\"Tell Strong Belwas I have need of him.\\\"\\n\\nThey found the huge brown eunuch sitting in the shade of her pavilion, eating a sausage. He finished it in three bites, wiped his greasy hands clean on his trousers, and sent Arstan Whitebeard to fetch him his steel. The aged squire honed Belwas's arakh every evening and rubbed it down with bright red oil.\\n\\nWhen Whitebeard brought the sword, Strong Belwas squinted down the edge, grunted, slid the blade back into its leather sheath, and tied the swordbelt about his vast waist. Arstan had brought his shield as well: around steel disk no larger than a pie plate, which the eunuch grasped with his offhand rather than strapping to his forearm in the manner of Westeros. \\\"Find liver and onions, Whitebeard,\\\" Belwas said. \\\"Not for now, for after. Killing makes Strong Belwas hungry.\\\" He did not wait fora reply, but lumbered from the olive grove toward Oznak zo Pahl.\\n\\n\\\"Why that one, Khaleesi?\\\" Rakharo demanded of her. \\\"He is fat and stupid.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Strong Belwas was a slave herein the fighting pits. If this highborn Oznak should fall to such the Great Masters will be shamed, while if he wins... well, it is a poor victory for one so noble, one that Meereen can take no pride in.\\\" And unlike Ser Jorah, Daario, Brown Ben, and her three bloodriders, the eunuch did not lead troops, plan battles, or give her counsel. He does nothing but eat and boast and bellow at Arstan. Belwas was the man she could most easily spare. And it was time she learned what sort of protector Magister Illyrio had sent her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A thrum of excitement went through the siege lines when Belwas was seen plodding toward the city, and from the walls and towers of Meereen came shouts and jeers. Oznak zo Pahl mounted up again, and waited, his striped lance held upright. The charger tossed his head impatiently and pawed the sandy earth. As massive as he was, the eunuch looked small beside the hero on his horse.\\n\\n\\\"A chivalrous man would dismount,\\\" said Arstan.\\n\\nOznak zo Pahl lowered his lance and charged.\\n\\nBelwas stopped with legs spread wide. In one hand was his small round shield, in the other the curved arakh that Arstan tended with such care. His great brown stomach and sagging chest were bare above the yellow silk sash knotted about his waist, and he wore no armor but his studded leather vest, so absurdly small that it did not even cover his nipples. \\\"We should have given him chainmail,\\\" Dany said, suddenly anxious.\\n\\n\\\"Mail would only slow him,\\\" said Ser Jorah. \\\"They wear no armor in the fighting pits. It's blood the crowds come to see.\\\"\\n\\nDust flew from the hooves of the white charger. Oznak thundered toward Strong Belwas, his striped cloak streaming from his shoulders. The whole city of Meereen seemed to be screaming him on. The besiegers'cheers seemed few and thin by comparison; her Unsullied stood in silent ranks, watching with stone faces. Belwas might have been made of stone as well. He stood in the horse's path, his vest stretched tight across his broad back. Oznak's lance was leveled at the center of his chest. Its bright steel point winked in the sunlight. He's going to be impaled, she thought... as the eunuch spun sideways. And quick as the blink of an eye the horseman was beyond him, wheeling, raising the lance. Belwas made no move to strike at him. The Meereenese on the walls screamed even louder. \\\"What is he doing?\\\" Dany demanded.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Giving the mob a show,\\\" Ser Jorah said.\\n\\nOznak brought the horse around Belwas in a wide circle, then dug in with his spurs and charged again. Again Belwas waited, then spun and knocked the point of the lance aside. She could hear the eunuch's booming laughter echoing across the plain as the hero went past him. \\\"The lance is too long,\\\" Ser Jorah said. \\\"All Belwas needs do is avoid the point. Instead of trying to spit him so prettily, the fool should ride right over him.\\\"\\n\\nOznak zo Pahl charged a third time, and now Dany could see plainly that he was riding past Belwas, the way a Westerosi knight might ride at an opponent in atilt, rather than at him, like a Dothraki riding down a foe. The flat level ground allowed the charger to getup a good speed, but it also made it easy for the eunuch to dodge the cumbersome fourteen-foot lance.\\n\\nMeereen's pink-and-white hero tried to anticipate this time, and swung his lance sideways at the last second to catch Strong Belwas when he dodged. But the eunuch had anticipated too, and this time he dropped down instead of spinning sideways. The lance passed harmlessly over his head. And suddenly Belwas was rolling, and bringing the razor-sharp arakh around in a silver arc. They heard the charger scream as the blade bit into his legs, and then the horse was falling, the hero tumbling from the saddle.\\n\\nA sudden silence swept along the brick parapets of Meereen. Now it was Dany's people who were screaming and cheering.\\n\\nOznak leapt clear of his horse and managed to draw his sword before Strong Belwas was on him. Steel sang against steel, too fast and furious for Dany to follow the blows. It could not have been a dozen heartbeats before Belwas's chest was awash in blood from a slice below his breasts, and Oznak zo Pahl had an arakh planted right between his ram's horns. The eunuch wrenched the blade loose and parted the hero's head from his body with three savage blows to the neck. He held it up high for the Meereenese to see, then flung it toward the city gates and let it bounce and roll across the sand.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So much for the hero of Meereen,\\\" said Daario, laughing.\\n\\n\\\"A victory without meaning,\\\" Ser Jorah cautioned. \\\"We will not win Meereen by killing its defenders one at a time.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Dany agreed, \\\"but I'm pleased we killed this one.\\\"\\n\\nThe defenders on the walls began firing their crossbows at Belwas, but the bolts fell short or skittered harmlessly along the ground. The eunuch turned his back on the steel-tipped rain, lowered his trousers, squatted, and shat in the direction of the city. He wiped himself with Oznak's striped cloak, and paused long enough to loot the hero's corpse and put the dying horse out of his agony before trudging back to the olive grove.\\n\\nThe besiegers gave him a raucous welcome as soon as he reached the camp. Her Dothraki hooted and screamed, and the Unsullied sent up a great clangor by banging their spears against their shields. \\\"Well done,\\\" Ser Jorah told him, and Brown Ben tossed the eunuch a ripe plum and said, \\\"A sweet fruit fora sweet fight.\\\" Even her Dothraki handmaids had words of praise. \\\"We would braid your hair and hang a bell in it, Strong Belwas,\\\" said Jhiqui, \\\"but you have no hair to braid.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Strong Belwas needs no tinkly bells.\\\" The eunuch ate Brown Ben's plum in four big bites and tossed aside the stone. \\\"Strong Belwas needs liver and onions.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You shall have it,\\\" said Dany. \\\"Strong Belwas is hurt.\\\" His stomach was red with the blood sheeting down from the meaty gash beneath his breasts.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It is nothing. I let each man cut me once, before I kill him.\\\" He slapped his bloody belly. \\\"Count the cuts and you will know how many Strong Belwas has slain.\\\"\\n\\nBut Dany had lost Khal Drogo to a similar wound, and she was not willing to let it go untreated. She sent Missandei to find a certain Yunkish freedman renowned for his skill in the healing arts. Belwas howled and complained, but Dany scolded him and called him a big bald baby until he let the healer stanch the wound with vinegar, sew it shut, and bind his chest with strips of linen soaked in fire wine. Only then did she lead her captains and commanders inside her pavilion for their council.\\n\\n\\\"I must have this city,\\\" she told them, sitting crosslegged on a pile of cushions, her dragons all about her. Irri and Jhiqui poured wine. \\\"Her granaries are full to bursting. There are figs and dates and olives growing on the terraces of her pyramids, and casks of salt fish and smoked meat buried in her cellars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And fat chests of gold, silver, and gemstones as well,\\\" Daario reminded them. \\\"Let us not forget the gemstones.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've had a look at the landward walls, and I see no point of weakness,\\\" said Ser Jorah Mormont. \\\"Given time, we might be able to mine beneath a tower and make a breach, but what do we eat while we're digging? Our stores are all but exhausted.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No weakness in the landward walls?\\\" said Dany. Meereen stood on a jut of sand and stone where the slow brown Skahazadhan flowed into Slaver's Bay. The city's north wall ran along the riverbank, its west along the bay shore. \\\"Does that mean we might attack from the river or the sea?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"With three ships? We'll want to have Captain Groleo take a good look at the wall along the river, but unless it's crumbling that's just a wetter way to die.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What if we were to build siege towers? My brother Viserys told tales of such, I know they can be made.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"From wood, Your Grace,\\\" Ser Jorah said. \\\"The slavers have burnt every tree within twenty leagues of here. Without wood, we have no trebuchets to smash the walls, no ladders to go over them, no siege towers, no turtles, and no rams. We can storm the gates with axes, to be sure, but...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did you see them bronze heads above the gates?\\\" asked Brown Ben Plumm. \\\"Rows of harpy heads with open mouths? The Meereenese can squirt boiling oil out them mouths, and cook your axemen where they stand.\\\"\\n\\nDaario Naharis gave Grey Worm a smile. \\\"Perhaps the Unsullied should wield the axes. Boiling oil feels like no more than a warm bath to you, I have heard.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is false.\\\" Grey Worm did not return the smile. \\\"These ones do not feel burns as men do, yet such oil blinds and kills. The Unsullied do not fear to die, though. Give these ones rams, and we will batter down these gates or die in the attempt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You would die,\\\" said Brown Ben. At Yunkai, when he took command of the Second Sons, he claimed to be the veteran of a hundred battles. \\\"Though I will not say I fought bravely in all of them. There are old sellswords and bold sellswords, but no old bold sellswords.\\\" She saw that it was true.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Dany sighed. \\\"I will not throwaway Unsullied lives, Grey Worm. Perhaps we can starve the city out.\\\"\\n\\nSer Jorah looked unhappy. \\\"We'll starve long before they do, Your Grace. There's no food here, nor fodder for our mules and horses. I do not like this river water either. Meereen shits into the Skahazadhan but draws its drinking water from deep wells. Already we've had reports of sickness in the camps, fever and brownleg and three cases of the bloody flux. There will be more if we remain. The slaves are weak from the march.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Freedmen,\\\" Dany corrected. \\\"They are slaves no longer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Slave or free, they are hungry and they'll soon be sick. The city is better provisioned than we are, and can be resupplied by water. Your three ships are not enough to deny them access to both the river and the sea.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then what do you advise, Ser Jorah?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You will not like it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I would hear it all the same.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you wish. I say, let this city be. You cannot free every slave in the world, Khaleesi. Your war is in Westeros.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have not forgotten Westeros.\\\" Dany dreamt of it some nights, this fabled land that she had never seen. \\\"If I let Meereen's old brick walls defeat me so easily, though, how will I ever take the great stone castles of Westeros?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As Aegon did,\\\" Ser Jorah said, \\\"with fire. By the time we reach the Seven Kingdoms, your dragons will be grown. And we will have siege towers and trebuchets as well, all the things we lack here... but the way across the Lands of the Long Summer is long and grueling, and there are dangers we cannot know. You stopped at Astapor to buy an army, not to start a war. Save your spears and swords for the Seven Kingdoms, my queen. Leave Meereen to the Meereenese and march west for Pentos.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Defeated?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"said Dany, bristling.\\n\\n\\\"When cowards hide behind great walls, it is they who are defeated, Khaleesi,\\\" Ko Jhogo said.\\n\\nHer other bloodriders concurred. \\\"Blood of my blood,\\\" said Rakharo, \\\"when cowards hide and burn the food and fodder, great khals must seek for braver foes. This is known.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is known,\\\" Jhiqui agreed, as she poured.\\n\\n\\\"Not tome.\\\" Dany set great store by Ser Jorah's counsel, but to leave Meereen untouched was more than she could stomach. She could not forget the children on their posts, the birds tearing at their entrails, their skinny arms pointing up the coast road. \\\"Ser Jorah, you say we have no food left. If I march west, how can I feed my freedmen?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You can't. I am sorry, Khaleesi. They must feed themselves or starve. Many and more will die along the march, yes. That will be hard, but there is noway to save them. We need to put this scorched earth well behind us.\\\"\\n\\nDany had left a trail of corpses behind her when she crossed the red waste. It was a sight she never meant to see again. \\\"No,\\\" she said. \\\"I will not march my people off to die.\\\" My children. \\\"There must be someway into this city.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know away.\\\" Brown Ben Plumm stroked his speckled grey-and-white beard. \\\"Sewers.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sewers? What do you mean?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Great brick sewers empty into the Skahazadhan, carrying the city's wastes. They might be away in, fora few. That was how I escaped Meereen, after Scarb lost his head.\\\" Brown Ben made a face. \\\"The smell has never left me. I dream of it some nights.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Jorah looked dubious.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Easier to go out than in, it would seem tome. These sewers empty into the river, you say? That would mean the mouths are right below the walls.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And closed with iron grates,\\\" Brown Ben admitted, \\\"though some have rusted through, else I would have drowned in shit. Once inside, it is along foul climb in pitch-dark through amaze of brick where a man could lose himself forever. The filth is never lower than waist high, and can rise over your head from the stains I saw on the walls. There's things down there too. Biggest rats you ever saw, and worse things. Nasty.\\\"\\n\\nDaario Naharis laughed. \\\"As nasty as you, when you came crawling out? If any man were fool enough to try this, every slaver in Meereen would smell them the moment they emerged.\\\"\\n\\nBrown Ben shrugged. \\\"Her Grace asked if there was away in, so I told her... but Ben Plumm isn't going down in them sewers again, not for all the gold in the Seven Kingdoms. If there's others want to try it, though, they're welcome.\\\"\\n\\nAggo, Jhogo, and Grey Worm all tried to speak at once, but Dany raised her hand for silence. \\\"These sewers do not sound promising.\\\" Grey Worm would lead his Unsullied down the sewers if she commanded it, she knew; her bloodriders would do no less. But none of them was suited to the task. The Dothraki were horsemen, and the strength of the Unsullied was their discipline on the battlefield. Can I send men to die in the dark on such a slender hope? \\\"I must think on this some more. Return to your duties.\\\"\\n\\nHer captains bowed and left her with her handmaids and her dragons. But as Brown Ben was leaving, Viserion spread his pale white wings and flapped lazily at his head. One of the wings buffeted the sellsword in his face. The white dragon landed awkwardly with one foot on the man's head and one on his shoulder, shrieked, and flew off again. \\\"He likes you, Ben,\\\" said Dany.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And well he might.\\\" Brown Ben laughed. \\\"I have me a drop of the dragon blood myself, you know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You?\\\" Dany was startled. Plumm was a creature of the free companies, an amiable mongrel. He had abroad brown face with a broken nose and ahead of nappy grey hair, and his Dothraki mother had bequeathed him large, dark, almond-shaped eyes. He claimed to be part Braavosi, part Summer Islander, part Ibbenese, part Qohorik, part Dothraki, part Dornish, and part Westerosi, but this was the first she had heard of Targaryen blood. She gave him a searching look and said, \\\"How could that be?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well,\\\" said Brown Ben, \\\"there was some old Plumm in the Sunset Kingdoms who wed a dragon princess. My grandmama told me the tale. He lived in King Aegon's day.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which King Aegon?\\\" Dany asked. \\\"Five Aegons have ruled in Westeros.\\\" Her brother's son would have been the sixth, but the Usurper's men had dashed his head against a wall.\\n\\n\\\"Five, were there? Well, that's a confusion. I could not give you a number, my queen. This old Plumm was a lord, though, must have been a famous fellow in his day, the talk of all the land. The thing was, begging your royal pardon, he had himself a cock six foot long.\\\"\\n\\nThe three bells in Dany's braid tinkled when she laughed. \\\"You mean inches, I think.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Feet,\\\" Brown Ben said firmly. \\\"If it was inches, who'd want to talk about it, now? Your Grace.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Dany giggled like a little girl. \\\"Did your grandmother claim she'd actually seen this prodigy?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That the old crone never did. She was half-Ibbenese and half-Qohorik, never been to Westeros, my grandfather must have told her. Some Dothraki killed him before I was born.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And where did your grandfather's knowledge come from?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One of them tales told at the teat, I'd guess.\\\" Brown Ben shrugged. \\\"That's all I know about Aegon the Unnumbered or old Lord Plumm's mighty manhood, I fear. I best see to my Sons.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Go do that,\\\" Dany told him.\\n\\nWhen Brown Ben left, she lay back on her cushions. \\\"If you were grown,\\\" she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, \\\"I'd fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag.\\\" But it would be years before her dragons were large enough to ride. And when they are, who shall ride them? The dragon has three heads, but I have only one. She thought of Daario. If ever there was a man who could rape a woman with his eyes...\\n\\nTo be sure, she was just as guilty. Dany found herself stealing looks at the Tyroshi when her captains came to council, and sometimes at night she remembered the way his gold tooth glittered when he smiled. That, and his eyes. His bright blue eyes. On the road from Yunkai, Daario had brought her a flower or a sprig of some plant every evening when he made his report... to help her learn the land, he said. Waspwillow, dusky roses, wild mint, lady's lace, daggerleaf, broom, prickly ben, harpy's gold... He tried to spare me the sight of the dead children too. He should not have done that, but he meant it kindly. And Daario Naharis made her laugh, which Ser Jorah never did.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Dany tried to imagine what it would be like if she allowed Daario to kiss her, the way Jorah had kissed heron the ship. The thought was exciting and disturbing, both at once. It is too great a risk. The Tyroshi sellsword was not a good man, no one needed to tell her that. Under the smiles and the jests he was dangerous, even cruel. Sallor and Prendahl had woken one morning as his partners; that very night he'd given her their heads. Khal Drogo could be cruel as well, and there was never a man more dangerous. She had come to love him all the same. Could I love Daario? What would it mean, if I took him into my bed? Would that make him one of the heads of the dragon? Ser Jorah would be angry, she knew, but he was the one who'd said she had to take two husbands. Perhaps I should marry them both and be done with it.\\n\\nBut these were foolish thoughts. She had a city to take, and dreaming of kisses and some sellsword's bright blue eyes would not help her breach the walls of Meereen. I am the blood of the dragon, Dany reminded herself. Her thoughts were spinning in circles, like a rat chasing its tail. Suddenly she could not stand the close confines of the pavilion another moment. I want to feel the wind on my face, and smell the sea. \\\"Missandei,\\\" she called, \\\"have my silver saddled. Your own mount as well.\\\"\\n\\nThe little scribe bowed. \\\"As Your Grace commands. Shall I summon your bloodriders to guard you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We'll take Arstan. I do not mean to leave the camps.\\\" She had no enemies among her children. And the old squire would not talk too much as Belwas would, or look at her like Daario.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The grove of burnt olive trees in which she'd raised her pavilion stood beside the sea, between the Dothraki camp and that of the Unsullied. When the horses had been saddled, Dany and her companions set out along the shoreline, away from the city. Even so, she could feel Meereen at her back, mocking her. When she looked over one shoulder, there it stood, the afternoon sun blazing off the bronze harpy atop the Great Pyramid. Inside Meereen the slavers would soon be reclining in their fringed tokars to feast on lamb and olives, unborn puppies, honeyed dormice and other such delicacies, whilst outside her children went hungry. A sudden wild anger filled her. I will bring you down, she swore.\\n\\nAs they rode past the stakes and pits that surrounded the eunuch encampment, Dany could hear Grey Worm and his sergeants running one company through a series of drills with shield, shortsword, and heavy spear. Another company was bathing in the sea, clad only in white linen breechclouts. The eunuchs were very clean, she had noticed. Some of her sellswords smelled as if they had not washed or changed their clothes since her father lost the Iron Throne, but the Unsullied bathed each evening, even if they'd marched all day. When no water was available they cleansed themselves with sand, the Dothraki way.\\n\\nThe eunuchs knelt as she passed, raising clenched fists to their breasts. Dany returned the salute. The tide was coming in, and the surf foamed about the feet of her silver. She could see her ships standing out to sea. Balerion floated nearest; the great cog once known as Saduleon, her sails furled. Further out were the galleys Meraxes and Vhagar, formerly Joso's Prank and Summer Sun. They were Magister Illyrio's ships, in truth, not hers at all, and yet she had given them new names with hardly a thought. Dragon names, and more; in old Valyria before the Doom, Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar had been gods.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"South of the ordered realm of stakes, pits, drills, and bathing eunuchs lay the encampments of her freedmen, afar noisier and more chaotic place.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Dany had armed the former slaves as best she could with weapons from Astapor and Yunkai, and Ser Jorah had organized the fighting men into four strong companies, yet she saw no one drilling here. They passed a driftwood fire where a hundred people had gathered to roast the carcass of a horse. She could smell the meat and hear the fat sizzling as the spit boys turned, but the sight only made her frown.\\n\\nChildren ran behind their horses, skipping and laughing. Instead of salutes, voices called to heron every side in a babble of tongues. Some of the freedmen greeted her as'Mother,\\\" while others begged for boons or favors. Some prayed for strange gods to bless her, and some asked her to bless them instead. She smiled at them, turning right and left, touching their hands when they raised them, letting those who knelt reach up to touch her stirrup or her leg. Many of the freedmen believed there was good fortune in her touch. If it helps give them courage, let them touch me, she thought. There are hard trials yet ahead...\\n\\nDany had stopped to speak to a pregnant woman who wanted the Mother of Dragons to name her baby when someone reached up and grabbed her left wrist. Turning, she glimpsed a tall ragged man with a shaved head and a sunburnt face. \\\"Not so hard,\\\" she started to say, but before she could finish he'd yanked her bodily from the saddle. The ground came up and knocked the breath from her, as her silver whinnied and backed away. Stunned, Dany rolled to her side and pushed herself onto one elbow...\\n\\n... and then she saw the sword.\\n\\n\\\"There's the treacherous sow,\\\" he said. \\\"I knew you'd come to get your feet kissed one day.\\\" His head was bald as a melon, his nose red and peeling, but she knew that voice and those pale green eyes. \\\"I'm going to start by cutting off your teats.\\\" Dany was dimly aware of Missandei shouting for help. A freedman edged forward, but only a step. One quick slash, and he was on his knees, blood running down his face. Mero wiped his sword on his breeches. \\\"Who's next?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I am.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Arstan Whitebeard leapt from his horse and stood over her, the salt wind riffling through his snowy hair, both hands on his tall hardwood staff.\\n\\n\\\"Grandfather,\\\" Mero said, \\\"runoff before I break your stick in two and bugger you with-\\\"\\n\\nThe old man feinted with one end of the staff, pulled it back, and whipped the other end about faster than Dany would have believed. The Titan's Bastard staggered back into the surf, spitting blood and broken teeth from the ruin of his mouth. Whitebeard put Dany behind him. Mero slashed at his face. The old man jerked back, cat-quick. The staff thumped Mero's ribs, sending him reeling. Arstan splashed sideways, parried a looping cut, danced away from a second, checked a third mid-swing. The moves were so fast she could hardly follow. Missandei was pulling Dany to her feet when she heard a crack. She thought Arstan's staff had snapped until she saw the jagged bone jutting from Mero's calf. Ashe fell, the Titan's Bastard twisted and lunged, sending his point straight at the old man's chest. Whitebeard swept the blade aside almost contemptuously and smashed the other end of his staff against the big man's temple. Mero went sprawling, blood bubbling from his mouth as the waves washed over him. A moment later the freedmen washed over him too, knives and stones and angry fists rising and falling in a frenzy.\\n\\nDany turned away, sickened. She was more frightened now than when it had been happening. He would have killed me.\\n\\n\\\"Your Grace.\\\" Arstan knelt. \\\"I am an old man, and shamed. He should never have gotten close enough to seize you. I was lax. I did not know him without his beard and hair.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2282,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 59"},{"from":"human","value":"\"I am.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Arstan Whitebeard leapt from his horse and stood over her, the salt wind riffling through his snowy hair, both hands on his tall hardwood staff.\n\n\"Grandfather,\" Mero said, \"runoff before I break your stick in two and bugger you with-\"\n\nThe old man feinted with one end of the staff, pulled it back, and whipped the other end about faster than Dany would have believed. The Titan's Bastard staggered back into the surf, spitting blood and broken teeth from the ruin of his mouth. Whitebeard put Dany behind him. Mero slashed at his face. The old man jerked back, cat-quick. The staff thumped Mero's ribs, sending him reeling. Arstan splashed sideways, parried a looping cut, danced away from a second, checked a third mid-swing. The moves were so fast she could hardly follow. Missandei was pulling Dany to her feet when she heard a crack. She thought Arstan's staff had snapped until she saw the jagged bone jutting from Mero's calf. Ashe fell, the Titan's Bastard twisted and lunged, sending his point straight at the old man's chest. Whitebeard swept the blade aside almost contemptuously and smashed the other end of his staff against the big man's temple. Mero went sprawling, blood bubbling from his mouth as the waves washed over him. A moment later the freedmen washed over him too, knives and stones and angry fists rising and falling in a frenzy.\n\nDany turned away, sickened. She was more frightened now than when it had been happening. He would have killed me.\n\n\"Your Grace.\" Arstan knelt. \"I am an old man, and shamed. He should never have gotten close enough to seize you. I was lax. I did not know him without his beard and hair.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No more than I did.\" Dany took a deep breath to stop her shaking. Enemies everywhere. \"Take me back to my tent. Please.\"\n\nBy the time Mormont arrived, she was huddled in her lion pelt, drinking a cup of spice wine. \"I had a look at the river wall,\" Ser Jorah started. \"It's a few feet higher than the others, and just as strong. And the Meereenese have a dozen fire hulks tied up beneath the ramparts-\"\n\nShe cut him off. \"You might have warned me that the Titan's Bastard had escaped.\"\n\nHe frowned. \"I saw no need to frighten you, Your Grace. I have offered a reward for his head-\"\n\n\"Pay it to Whitebeard. Mero has been with us all the way from Yunkai. He shaved his beard off and lost himself amongst the freedmen, waiting fora chance for vengeance. Arstan killed him.\"\n\nSer Jorah gave the old man along look. \"A squire with a stick slew Mero of Braavos, is that the way of it?\"\n\n\"A stick,\" Dany confirmed, \"but no longer a squire. Ser Jorah, it's my wish that Arstan be knighted.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nThe loud refusal was surprise enough. Stranger still, it came from both men at once.\n\nSer Jorah drew his sword. \"The Titan's Bastard was a nasty piece of work. And good at killing. Who are you, old man?\"\n\n\"A better knight than you, ser,\" Arstan said coldly.\n\nKnight? Dany was confused. \"You said you were a squire.\"\n\n\"I was, Your Grace.\" He dropped to one knee. \"I squired for Lord Swann in my youth, and at Magister Illyrio's behest I have served Strong Belwas as well. But during the years between, I was a knight in Westeros. I have told you no lies, my queen. Yet there are truths I have withheld, and for that and all my other sins I can only beg your forgiveness.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What truths have you withheld?\" Dany did not like this. \"You will tell me. Now.\"\n\nHe bowed his head. \"At Qarth, when you asked my name, I said I was called Arstan. That much was true. Many men had called me by that name while Belwas and I were making our way east to find you. But it is not my true name.\"\n\nShe was more confused than angry. He has played me false, just as Jorah warned me, yet he saved my life just now.\n\nSer Jorah flushed red. \"Mero shaved his beard, but you grew one, didn't you? No wonder you looked so bloody familiar...\"\n\n\"You know him?\" Dany asked the exile knight, lost.\n\n\"I saw him perhaps a dozen times... from afar most often, standing with his brothers or riding in some tourney. But every man in the Seven Kingdoms knew Barristan the Bold.\" He laid the point of his sword against the old man's neck. \"Khaleesi, before you kneels Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who betrayed your House to serve the Usurper Robert Baratheon.\"\n\nThe old knight did not so much as blink. \"The crow calls the raven black, and you speak of betrayal.\"\n\n\"Why are you here?\" Dany demanded of him. \"If Robert sent you to kill me, why did you save my life?\" He served the Usurper. He betrayed Rhaegar's memory, and abandoned Viserys to live and die in exile. Yet if he wanted me dead, he need only have stood aside...\"I want the whole truth now, on your honor as a knight. Are you the Usurper's man, or mine?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yours, if you will have me.\" Ser Barristan had tears in his eyes. \"I took Robert's pardon, aye. I served him in Kingsguard and council. Served with the Kingslayer and others near as bad, who soiled the white cloak I wore. Nothing will excuse that. I might be serving in King's Landing still if the vile boy upon the Iron Throne had not cast me aside, it shames me to admit. But when he took the cloak that the White Bull had draped about my shoulders, and sent men to kill me that selfsame day, it was as though he'd ripped a caul off my eyes. That was when I knew I must find my true king, and die in his service-\"\n\n\"I can grant that wish,\" Ser Jorah said darkly.\n\n\"Quiet,\" said Dany. \"I'll hear him out.\"\n\n\"It maybe that I must die a traitor's death,\" Ser Barristan said. \"If so, I should not die alone. Before I took Robert's pardon I fought against him on the Trident. You were on the other side of that battle, Mormont, were you not?\" He did not wait for an answer. \"Your Grace, I am sorry I misled you. It was the only way to keep the Lannisters from learning that I had joined you. You are watched, as your brother was. Lord Varys reported every move Viserys made, for years. Whilst I sat on the small council, I heard a hundred such reports. And since the day you wed Khal Drogo, there has been an informer by your side selling your secrets, trading whispers to the Spider for gold and promises.\"\n\nHe cannot mean...\"You are mistaken.\" Dany looked at Jorah Mormont. \"Tell him he's mistaken. There's no informer. Ser Jorah, tell him. We crossed the Dothraki sea together, and the red waste...\" Her heart fluttered like a bird in a trap. \"Tell him, Jorah. Tell him how he got it wrong.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"The Others take you, Selmy.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ser Jorah flung his longsword to the carpet. \"Khaleesi, it was only at the start, before I came to know you... before I came to love...\"\n\n\"Do not say that word!\" She backed away from him. \"How could you? What did the Usurper promise you? Gold, was it gold?\" The Undying had said she would be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love. \"Tell me what you were promised?\"\n\n\"Varys said... I might go home.\" He bowed his head.\n\nI was going to take you home! Her dragons sensed her fury. Viserion roared, and smoke rose grey from his snout. Drogon beat the air with black wings, and Rhaegal twisted his head back and belched flame. I should say the word and burn the two of them. Was there no one she could trust, no one to keep her safe? \"Are all the knights of Westeros so false as you two? Get out, before my dragons roast you both. What does roast liar smell like? As foul as Brown Ben's sewers? Go!\"\n\nSer Barristan rose stiff and slow. For the first time, he looked his age. \"Where shall we go, Your Grace?\"\n\n\"To hell, to serve King Robert.\" Dany felt hot tears on her cheeks. Drogon screamed, lashing his tailback and forth. \"The Others can have you both.\" Go, go away forever, both of you, the next time I see your faces I'll have your traitors\" heads off. She could not say the words, though. They betrayed me. But they saved me. But they lied. \"You go...\" My bear, my fierce strong bear, what will I do without him? And the old man, my brother's friend. \"You go... go...\" Where?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And then she knew."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"TYRION\n\nTyrion dressed himself in darkness, listening to his wife's soft breathing from the bed they shared. She dreams, he thought, when Sansa murmured something softly-a name, perhaps, though it was too faint to say-and turned onto her side. As man and wife they shared a marriage bed, but that was all. Even her tears she hoards to herself.\n\nHe had expected anguish and anger when he told her of her brother's death, but Sansa's face had remained so still that fora moment he feared she had not understood. It was only later, with a heavy oaken door between them, that he heard her sobbing. Tyrion had considered going to her then, to offer what comfort he could. No, he had to remind himself, she will not look for solace from a Lannister. The most he could do was to shield her from the uglier details of the Red Wedding as they came down from the Twins. Sansa did not need to hear how her brother's body had been hacked and mutilated, he decided; nor how her mother's corpse had been dumped naked into the Green Fork in a savage mockery of House Tully's funeral customs. The last thing the girl needed was more fodder for her nightmares.\n\nIt was not enough, though. He had wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and sworn to protect her, but that was as cruel a jape as the crown the Freys had placed atop the head of Robb Stark's direwolf after they'd sewn it onto his headless corpse. Sansa knew that as well. The way she looked at him, her stiffness when she climbed into their bed... when he was with her, never for an instant could he forget who he was, or what he was. No more than she did. She still went nightly to the godswood to pray, and Tyrion wondered if she were praying for his death. She had lost her home, her place in the world, and everyone she had ever loved or trusted. Winter is coming, warned the Stark words, and truly it had come for them with a vengeance. But it is high summer for House Lannister. So why am I so bloody cold?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He pulled on his boots, fastened his cloak with a lion's head brooch, and slipped out into the torchlit hall. There was this much to be said for his marriage; it had allowed him to escape Maegor's Holdfast. Now that he had a wife and household, his lord father had agreed that more suitable accommodations were required, and Lord Gyles had found himself abruptly dispossessed of his spacious apartments atop the Kitchen Keep. And splendid apartments they were too, with a large bedchamber and adequate solar, a bath and dressing room for his wife, and small adjoining chambers for Pod and Sansa's maids. Even Bronn's cell by the stair had a window of sorts. Well, more an arrow slit, but it lets in light. The castle's main kitchen was just across the courtyard, true, but Tyrion found those sounds and smells infinitely preferable to sharing Maegor's with his sister. The less he had to see of Cersei the happier he was like to be.\n\nTyrion could hear Brella's snoring as he passed her cell. Shae complained of that, but it seemed a small enough price to pay. Varys had suggested the woman to him; informer days, she had run Lord Renly's household in the city, which had given her a deal of practice at being blind, deaf, and mute.\n\nLighting a taper, he made his way back to the servants' steps and descended. The floors below his own were still, and he heard no footsteps but his own. Down he went, to the ground floor and beyond, to emerge in a gloomy cellar with a vaulted stone ceiling. Much of the castle was connected underground, and the Kitchen Keep was no exception. Tyrion waddled along along dark passageway until he found the door he wanted, and pushed through."},{"from":"human","value":"Within, the dragon skulls were waiting, and so was Shae."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I thought m'lord had forgotten me.\" Her dress was draped over a black tooth near as tall as she was, and she stood within the dragon's jaws, nude. Balerion, he thought. Or was it Vhagar? One dragon skull looked much like another.\n\nJust the sight of her made him hard. \"Come out of there.\"\n\n\"I won't.\" She smiled her wickedest smile. \"M'lord will pluck me from the dragon's jaws, I know.\" But when he waddled closer she leaned forward and blew out the taper.\n\n\"Shae...\" He reached, but she spun and slipped free.\n\n\"You have to catch me.\" Her voice came from his left. \"M'lord must have played monsters and maidens when he was little.\"\n\n\"Are you calling me a monster?\"\n\n\"No more than I'm a maiden.\" She was behind him, her steps soft against the floor. \"You need to catch me all the same.\"\n\nHe did, finally, but only because she let herself be caught. By the time she slipped into his arms, he was flushed and out of breath from stumbling into dragon skulls. All that was forgotten in an instant when he felt her small breasts pressed against his face in the dark, her stiff little nipples brushing lightly over his lips and the scar where his nose had been. Tyrion pulled her down onto the floor. \"My giant,\" she breathed as he entered her. \"My giant's come to save me.\"\n\nAfter, as they lay entwined amongst the dragon skulls, he rested his head against her, inhaling the smooth clean smell of her hair. \"We should go back,\" he said reluctantly. \"It must be near dawn. Sansa will be waking.\"\n\n\"You should give her dreamwine,\" Shae said, \"like Lady Tanda does with Lollys. A cup before she goes to sleep, and we could fuck in bed beside her without her waking.\" She giggled. \"Maybe we should, some night. Would m'lord like that?\" Her hand found his shoulder, and began to knead the muscles there. \"Your neck is hard as stone. What troubles you?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tyrion could not see his fingers in front of his face, but he ticked his woes off on them all the same. \"My wife. My sister. My nephew. My father. The Tyrells.\" He had to move to his other hand. \"Varys. Pycelle. Littlefinger. The Red Viper of Dorne.\" He had come to his last finger. \"The face that stares back out of the water when I wash.\"\n\nShae kissed his maimed scarred nose. \"A brave face. A kind and good face. I wish I could see it now.\"\n\nAll the sweet innocence of the world was in her voice. Innocence? Fool, she's a whore, all she knows of men is the bit between their legs. Fool, fool. \"Better you than me.\" Tyrion sat. \"We have along day before us, both of us. You shouldn't have blown out that taper. How are we to find our clothing?\"\n\nShe laughed. \"Maybe we'll have to go naked.\"\n\nAnd if we're seen, my lord father will hang you. Hiring Shae as one of Sansa's maids had given him an excuse to be seen talking with her, but Tyrion did not delude himself that they were safe. Varys had warned him. \"I gave Shae a false history, but it was meant for Lollys and Lady Tanda. Your sister is of a more suspicious mind. If she should ask me what I know...\"\n\n\"You will tell her some clever lie.\"\n\n\"No. I will tell her that the girl is a common camp follower that you acquired before the battle on the Green Fork and brought to King's Landing against your lord father's express command. I will not lie to the queen.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You have lied to her before. Shall I tell her that?\"\n\nThe eunuch sighed. \"That cuts more deeply than a knife, my lord. I have served you loyally, but I must also serve your sister when I can. How long do you think she would let me live if I were of no further use to her whatsoever? I have no fierce sellsword to protect me, no valiant brother to avenge me, only some little birds who whisper in my ear. With those whisperings I must buy my life anew each day.\"\n\n\"Pardon me if I do not weep for you.\"\n\n\"I shall, but you must pardon me if I do not weep for Shae. I confess, I do not understand what there is in her to make a clever manlike you act such a fool.\"\n\n\"You might, if you were not a eunuch.\"\n\n\"Is that the way of it? A man may have wits, or a bit of meat between his legs, but not both?\" Varys tittered. \"Perhaps I should be grateful I was cut, then.\"\n\nThe Spider was right. Tyrion groped through the dragon-haunted darkness for his smallclothes, feeling wretched. The risk he was taking left him tight as a drumhead, and there was guilt as well. The Others can take my guilt, he thought as he slipped his tunic over his head. Why should I be guilty? My wife wants no part of me, and most especially not the part that seems to want her. Perhaps he ought to tell her about Shae. It was not as though he was the first man ever to keep a concubine. Sansa's own oh-so-honorable father had given her a bastard brother. For all he knew, his wife might be thrilled to learn that he was fucking Shae, so long as it spared her his unwelcome touch."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"No, I dare not. Vows or no, his wife could not be trusted. She might be maiden between the legs, but she was hardly innocent of betrayal; she had once spilled her own father's plans to Cersei. And girls her age were not known for keeping secrets.\n\nThe only safe course was to rid himself of Shae. I might send her to Chataya, Tyrion reflected, reluctantly. In Chataya's brothel, Shae would have all the silks and gems she could wish for, and the gentlest highborn patrons. It would be a better life by far than the one she had been living when he'd found her.\n\nOr, if she was tired of earning her bread on her back, he might arrange a marriage for her. Bronn, perhaps? The sellsword had never balked at eating off his master's plate, and he was a knight now, a better match than she could elsewise hope for. Or Ser Tallad? Tyrion had noticed that one gazing wistfully at Shae more than once. Why not? He's tall, strong, not hard to look upon, every inch the gifted young knight. Of course, Tallad knew Shae only as a pretty young lady's maid in service at the castle. If hewed her and then learned she was a whore...\n\n\"M'lord, where are you? Did the dragons eat you up?\"\n\n\"No. Here.\" He groped at a dragon skull. \"I have found a shoe, but I believe it's yours.\"\n\n\"M'lord sounds very solemn. Have I displeased you?\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, too curtly. \"You always please me.\" And therein is our danger. He might dream of sending her away at times like this, but that never lasted long. Tyrion saw her dimly through the gloom, pulling a woolen sock up a slender leg. I can see. A vague light was leaking through the row of long narrow windows set high in the cellar wall. The skulls of the Targaryen dragons were emerging from the darkness around them, black amidst grey. \"Day comes too soon.\" Anew day. Anew year. Anew century. I survived the Green Fork and the Blackwater, I can bloody well survive King Joffrey's wedding."},{"from":"human","value":"Shae snatched her dress down off the dragon's tooth and slipped it over her head."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I'll go up first. Brella will want help with the bathwater.\" She bent over to give him one last kiss, upon the brow. \"My giant of Lannister. I love you so.\"\n\nAnd I love you as well, sweetling. A whore she might well be, but she deserved better than what he had to give her. I will wed her to Ser Tallad. He seems a decent man. And tall..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"SANSA\n\nThat was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so...\n\nShe threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.\n\nHer lord husband was not beside her, but she was used to that. Tyrion was a bad sleeper and often rose before the dawn. Usually she found him in the solar, hunched beside a candle, lost in some old scroll or leatherbound book. Sometimes the smell of the morning bread from the ovens took him to the kitchens, and sometimes he would climb up to the roof garden or wander all alone down Traitor's Walk.\n\nShe threw back the shutters and shivered as gooseprickles rose along her arms. There were clouds massing in the eastern sky, pierced by shafts of sunlight. They look like two huge castles afloat in the morning sky. Sansa could see their walls of tumbled stone, their mighty keeps and barbicans. Wispy banners swirled from atop their towers and reached for the fast-fading stars. The sun was coming up behind them, and she watched them go from black to grey to a thousand shades of rose and gold and crimson. Soon the wind mushed them together, and there was only one castle where there had been two.\n\nShe heard the door open as her maids brought the hot water for her bath. They were both new to her service; Tyrion said the women who'd tended to her previously had all been Cersei's spies, just as Sansa had always suspected. \"Come see,\" she told them. \"There's a castle in the sky.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They came to have a look. \"It's made of gold.\" Shae had short dark hair and bold eyes. She did all that was asked of her, but sometimes she gave Sansa the most insolent looks. \"A castle all of gold, there's a sight I'd like to see.\"\n\n\"A castle, is it?\" Brella had to squint. \"That tower's tumbling over, looks like. It's all ruins, that is.\"\n\nSansa did not want to hear about falling towers and ruined castles. She closed the shutters and said, \"We are expected at the queen's breakfast. Is my lord husband in the solar?\"\n\n\"No, m'lady,\" said Brella. \"I have not seen him.\"\n\n\"Might be he went to see his father,\" Shae declared. \"Might be the King's Hand had need of his counsel.\"\n\nBrella gave a sniff. \"Lady Sansa, you'll be wanting to get into the tub before the water gets too cool.\"\n\nSansa let Shae pull her shift up over her head and climbed into the big wooden tub. She was tempted to ask fora cup of wine, to calm her nerves. The wedding was to beat midday in the Great Sept of Baelor across the city. And come evenfall the feast would beheld in the throne room; a thousand guests and seventy-seven courses, with singers and jugglers and mummers. But first came breakfast in the Queen's Ballroom, for the Lannisters and the Tyrell men-the Tyrell women would be breaking their fast with Margaery-and a hundred odd knights and lordlings. They have made me a Lannister, Sansa thought bitterly.\n\nBrella sent Shae to fetch more hot water while she washed Sansa's back. \"You are trembling, m'lady.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The water is not hot enough,\" Sansa lied.\n\nHer maids were dressing her when Tyrion appeared, Podrick Payne in tow. \"You look lovely, Sansa.\" He turned to his squire. \"Pod, be so good as to pour me a cup of wine.\"\n\n\"There will be wine at the breakfast, my lord,\" Sansa said.\n\n\"There's wine here. You don't expect me to face my sister sober, surely? It's anew century, my lady. The three hundredth year since Aegon's Conquest.\" The dwarf took a cup of red from Podrick and raised it high. \"To Aegon. What a fortunate fellow. Two sisters, two wives, and three big dragons, what more could a man ask for?\" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.\n\nThe Imp's clothing was soiled and unkempt, Sansa noticed; it looked as though he'd slept in it. \"Will you be changing into fresh garb, my lord? Your new doublet is very handsome.\"\n\n\"The doublet is handsome, yes.\" Tyrion put the cup aside. \"Come, Pod, let us see if we can find some garments to make me look less dwarfish. I would not want to shame my lady wife.\"\n\nWhen the Imp returned a short time later, he was presentable enough, and even a little taller. Podrick Payne had changed as well, and looked almost a proper squire for once, although a rather large red pimple in the fold beside his nose spoiled the effect of his splendid purple, white, and gold raiment. He is such a timid boy. Sansa had been wary of Tyrion's squire at first; he was a Payne, cousin to Ser Ilyn Payne who had taken her father's head off. However, she'd soon come to realize that Pod was as frightened of her as she was of his cousin. Whenever she spoke to him, he turned the most alarming shade of red."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Are purple, gold, and white the colors of House Payne, Podrick?\" she asked him politely.\n\n\"No. I mean, yes.\" He blushed. \"The colors. Our arms are purple and white chequy, my lady. With gold coins. In the checks. Purple and white. Both.\" He studied her feet.\n\n\"There's a tale behind those coins,\" said Tyrion. \"No doubt Pod will confide it to your toes one day. Just now we are expected at the Queen's Ballroom, however. Shall we?\"\n\nSansa was tempted to beg off. I could tell him that my tummy was upset, or that my moon's blood had come. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and pull the drapes. I must be brave, like Robb, she told herself, as she took her lord husband stiffly by the arm.\n\nIn the Queen's Ballroom they broke their fast on honeycakes baked with blackberries and nuts, gammon steaks, bacon, fingerfish crisped in breadcrumbs, autumn pears, and a Dornish dish of onions, cheese, and chopped eggs cooked up with fiery peppers. \"Nothing like a hearty breakfast to whet one's appetite for the seventy-seven-course feast to follow,\" Tyrion commented as their plates were filled. There were flagons of milk and flagons of mead and flagons of alight sweet golden wine to wash it down. Musicians strolled among the tables, piping and fluting and fiddling, while Ser Dontos galloped about on his broomstick horse and Moon Boy made farting sounds with his cheeks and sang rude songs about the guests.\n\nTyrion scarce touched his food, Sansa noticed, though he drank several cups of the wine. For herself, she tried a little of the Dornish eggs, but the peppers burned her mouth. Otherwise she only nibbled at the fruit and fish and honeycakes. Every time Joffrey looked at her, her tummy got so fluttery that she felt as though she'd swallowed a bat."},{"from":"human","value":"When the food had been cleared away, the queen solemnly presented Joff with the wife's cloak that he would drape over Margaery's shoulders."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It is the cloak I donned when Robert took me for his queen, the same cloak my mother Lady Joanna wore when wed to my lord father.\" Sansa thought it looked threadbare, if truth be told, but perhaps because it was soused.\n\nThen it was time for gifts. It was traditional in the Reach to give presents to bride and groom on the morning of their wedding; on the morrow they would receive more presents as a couple, but today's tokens were for their separate persons.\n\nFrom Jalabhar Xho, Joffrey received a great bow of golden wood and quiver of long arrows fletched with green and scarlet feathers; from Lady Tanda a pair of supple riding boots; from Ser Kevan a magnificent red leather jousting saddle; a red gold brooch wrought in the shape of a scorpion from the Dornishman, Prince Oberyn; silver spurs from Ser Addam Marbrand; a red silk tourney pavilion from Lord Mathis Rowan. Lord Paxter Redwyne brought forth a beautiful wooden model of the war galley of two hundred oars being built even now on the Arbor. \"If it please Your Grace, she will be called King Joffrey's Valor,\" he said, and Joff allowed that he was very pleased indeed. \"I will make it my flagship when I sail to Dragonstone to kill my traitor uncle Stannis,\" he said.\n\nHe plays the gracious king today. Joffrey could be gallant when it suited him, Sansa knew, but it seemed to suit him less and less. Indeed, all his courtesy vanished at once when Tyrion presented him with their own gift: a huge old book called Lives of Four Kings, bound in leather and gorgeously illuminated. The king leafed through it with no interest. \"And what is this, Uncle?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A book. Sansa wondered if Joffrey moved those fat wormy lips of his when he read.\n\n\"Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good,\" her small husband answered.\n\n\"A book every king should read, Your Grace,\" said Ser Kevan.\n\n\"My father had no time for books.\" Joffrey shoved the tome across the table. \"If you read less, Uncle Imp, perhaps Lady Sansa would have a baby in her belly by now.\" He laughed... and when the king laughs, the court laughs with him. \"Don't be sad, Sansa, once I've gotten Queen Margaery with child I'll visit your bedchamber and show my little uncle how it's done.\"\n\nSansa reddened. She glanced nervously at Tyrion, afraid of what he might say. This could turn as nasty as the bedding had at their own feast. But for once the dwarf filled his mouth with wine instead of words.\n\nLord Mace Tyrell came forward to present his gift: a golden chalice three feet tall, with two ornate curved handles and seven faces glittering with gemstones. \"Seven faces for Your Grace's seven kingdoms,\" the bride's father explained. He showed them how each face bore the sigil of one of the great houses: ruby lion, emerald rose, onyx stag, silver trout, blue jade falcon, opal sun, and pearl direwolf.\n\n\"A splendid cup,\" said Joffrey, \"but we'll need to chip the wolf off and put a squid in its place, I think.\"\n\nSansa pretended that she had not heard."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Margaery and I shall drink deep at the feast, good father.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Joffrey lifted the chalice above his head, for everyone to admire.\n\n\"The damned thing's as tall as I am,\" Tyrion muttered in a low voice. \"Half a chalice and Joff will befalling down drunk.\"\n\nGood, she thought. Perhaps he'll break his neck.\n\nLord Tywin waited until last to present the king with his own gift: a longsword. Its scabbard was made of cherrywood, gold, and oiled red leather, studded with golden lions' heads. The lions had ruby eyes, she saw. The ballroom fell silent as Joffrey unsheathed the blade and thrust the sword above his head. Red and black ripples in the steel shimmered in the morning light.\n\n\"Magnificent,\" declared Mathis Rowan.\n\n\"A sword to sing of, sire,\" said Lord Redwyne.\n\n\"A king's sword,\" said Ser Kevan Lannister.\n\nKing Joffrey looked as if he wanted to kill someone right then and there, he was so excited. He slashed at the air and laughed. \"A great sword must have a great name, my lords! What shall I call it?\"\n\nSansa remembered Lion's Tooth, the sword Arya had flung into the Trident, and Hearteater, the one he'd made her kiss before the battle. She wondered if he'd want Margaery to kiss this one.\n\nThe guests were shouting out names for the new blade. Joff dismissed a dozen before he heard one he liked. \"Widow's Wail!\" he cried. \"Yes! It shall make many a widow, too!\" He slashed again. \"And when I face my uncle Stannis it will break his magic sword clean in two.\" Joff tried a downcut, forcing Ser Balon Swann to take a hasty step backward. Laughter rang through the hall at the look on Ser Balon's face."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Have a care, Your Grace,\" Ser Addam Marbrand warned the king. \"Valyrian steel is perilously sharp.\"\n\n\"I remember.\" Joffrey brought Widow's Wail down in a savage two-handed slice, onto the book that Tyrion had given him. The heavy leather cover parted at a stroke. \"Sharp! I told you, I am no stranger to Valyrian steel.\" It took him half a dozen further cuts to hack the thick tome apart, and the boy was breathless by the time he was done. Sansa could feel her husband struggling with his fury as Ser Osmund Kettleblack shouted, \"I pray you never turn that wicked edge on me, sire.\"\n\n\"See that you never give me cause, ser.\" Joffrey flicked a chunk of Lives of Four Kings off the table at swordpoint, then slid Widow's Wail back into its scabbard.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Ser Garlan Tyrell said. \"Perhaps you did not know. In all of Westeros there were but four copies of that book illuminated in Kaeth's own hand.\"\n\n\"Now there are three.\" Joffrey undid his old swordbelt to don his new one. \"You and Lady Sansa owe me a better present, Uncle Imp. This one is all chopped to pieces.\"\n\nTyrion was staring at his nephew with his mismatched eyes. \"Perhaps a knife, sire. To match your sword. A dagger of the same fine Valyrian steel... with a dragonbone hilt, say?\"\n\nJoff gave him a sharp look. \"You... yes, a dagger to match my sword, good.\" He nodded. \"A... a gold hilt with rubies in it. Dragonbone is too plain.\"\n\n\"As you wish, Your Grace.\" Tyrion drank another cup of wine. He might have been all alone in his solar for all the attention he paid Sansa. But when the time came to leave for the wedding, he took her by the hand."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As they were crossing the yard, Prince Oberyn of Dorne fell in beside them, his black-haired paramour on his arm. Sansa glanced at the woman curiously. She was baseborn and unwed, and had borne two bastard daughters for the prince, but she did not fear to look even the queen in the eye. Shae had told her that this Ellaria worshiped some Lysene love goddess. \"She was almost a whore when he found her, m'lady,\" her maid confided, \"and now she's near a princess.\" Sansa had never been this close to the Dornishwoman before. She is not truly beautiful, she thought, but something about her draws the eye.\n\n\"I once had the great good fortune to seethe Citadel's copy of Lives of Four Kings,\" Prince Oberyn was telling her lord husband. \"The illuminations were wondrous to behold, but Kaeth was too kind by half to King Viserys.\"\n\nTyrion gave him a sharp look. \"Too kind? He scants Viserys shamefully, in my view. It should have been Lives of Five Kings.\"\n\nThe prince laughed. \"Viserys hardly reigned a fortnight.\"\n\n\"He reigned more than a year,\" said Tyrion.\n\nOberyn gave a shrug. \"A year or a fortnight, what does it matter? He poisoned his own nephew to gain the throne and then did nothing once he had it.\"\n\n\"Baelor starved himself to death, fasting,\" said Tyrion. \"His uncle served him loyally as Hand, as he had served the Young Dragon before him. Viserys might only have reigned a year, but he ruled for fifteen, while Daeron warred and Baelor prayed.\" He made a sour face. \"And if he did remove his nephew, can you blame him? Someone had to save the realm from Baelor's follies.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sansa was shocked. \"But Baelor the Blessed was a great king. He walked the Boneway barefoot to make peace with Dorne, and rescued the Dragonknight from a snakepit. The vipers refused to strike him because he was so pure and holy.\"\n\nPrince Oberyn smiled. \"If you were a viper, my lady, would you want to bite a bloodless stick like Baelor the Blessed? I'd sooner save my fangs for someone juicier...\"\n\n\"My prince is playing with you, Lady Sansa,\" said the woman Ellaria Sand. \"The septons and singers like to say that the snakes did not bite Baelor, but the truth is very different. He was bitten half a hundred times, and should have died from it.\"\n\n\"If he had, Viserys would have reigned a dozen years,\" said Tyrion, \"and the Seven Kingdoms might have been better served. Some believe Baelor was deranged by all that venom.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Prince Oberyn, \"but I've seen no snakes in this Red Keep of yours. So how do you account for Joffrey?\"\n\n\"I prefer not to.\" Tyrion inclined his head stiffly. \"If you will excuse us. Our litter awaits.\" The dwarf helped Sansa up inside and clambered awkwardly after her. \"Close the curtains, my lady, if you'd be so good.\"\n\n\"Must we, my lord?\" Sansa did not want to be shut behind the curtains. \"The day is so lovely.\"\n\n\"The good people of King's Landing are like to throw dung at the litter if they see me inside it. Do us both a kindness, my lady. Close the curtains.\"\n\nShe did as he bid her. They sat fora time, as the air grew warm and stuffy around them. \"I was sorry about your book, my lord,\" she made herself say."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It was Joffrey's book. He might have learned a thing or two if he'd read it.\" He sounded distracted. \"I should have known better. I should have seen... a good many things.\"\n\n\"Perhaps the dagger will please him more.\"\n\nWhen the dwarf grimaced, his scar tightened and twisted. \"The boy's earned himself a dagger, wouldn't you say?\" Thankfully Tyrion did not wait for her reply. \"Joff quarreled with your brother Robb at Winterfell. Tell me, was there ill feeling between Bran and His Grace as well?\"\n\n\"Bran?\" The question confused her. \"Before he fell, you mean?\" She had to try and think back. It was all so long ago. \"Bran was a sweet boy. Everyone loved him. He and Tommen fought with wooden swords, I remember, but just for play.\"\n\nTyrion lapsed back into moody silence. Sansa heard the distant clank of chains from outside; the portcullis was being drawn up. A moment later there was a shout, and their litter swayed into motion. Deprived of the passing scenery, she chose to stare at her folded hands, uncomfortably aware of her husband's mismatched eyes. Why is he looking at me that way?\n\n\"You loved your brothers, much as I love Jaime.\"\n\nIs this some Lannister trap to make me speak treason? \"My brothers were traitors, and they've gone to traitors\" graves. It is treason to love a traitor.\"\n\nHer little husband snorted. \"Robb rose in arms against his rightful king. Bylaw, that made him a traitor. The others died too young to know what treason was.\" He rubbed his nose. \"Sansa, do you know what happened to Bran at Winterfell?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Bran fell. He was always climbing things, and finally he fell. We always feared he would. And Theon Greyjoy killed him, but that was later.\"\n\n\"Theon Greyjoy.\" Tyrion sighed. \"Your lady mother once accused me... well, I will not burden you with the ugly details. She accused me falsely. I never harmed your brother Bran. And I mean no harm to you.\"\n\nWhat does he want me to say? \"That is good to know, my lord.\" He wanted something from her, but Sansa did not know what it was. He looks like a starving child, but I have no food to give him. Why won't he leave me be?\n\nTyrion rubbed at his scarred, scabby nose yet again, an ugly habit that drew the eye to his ugly face. \"You have never asked me how Robb died, or your lady mother.\"\n\n\"I... would sooner not know. It would give me bad dreams.\"\n\n\"Then I will say no more.\"\n\n\"That... that's kind of you.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" said Tyrion. \"I am the very soul of kindness. And I know about bad dreams.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"TYRION\n\nThe new crown that his father had given the Faith stood twice as tall as the one the mob had smashed, a glory of crystal and spun gold. Rainbow light flashed and shimmered every time the High Septon moved his head, but Tyrion had to wonder how the man could bear the weight. And even he had to concede that Joffrey and Margaery made a regal couple, as they stood side-by-side between the towering gilded statues of the Father and the Mother.\n\nThe bride was lovely in ivory silk and Myrish lace, her skirts decorated with floral patterns picked out in seed pearls. As Renly's widow, she might have worn the Baratheon colors, gold and black, yet she came to them a Tyrell, in a maiden's cloak made of a hundred cloth-of-gold roses sewn to green velvet. He wondered if she really was a maiden. Not that Joffrey is like to know the difference.\n\nThe king looked near as splendid as his bride, in his doublet of dusky rose, beneath a cloak of deep crimson velvet blazoned with his stag and lion. The crown rested easily on his curls, gold on gold. I saved that bloody crown for him. Tyrion shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He could not standstill. Too much wine. He should have thought to relieve himself before they set out from the Red Keep. The sleepless night he'd spent with Shae was making itself felt too, but most of all he wanted to strangle his bloody royal nephew.\n\nI am no stranger to Valyrian steel, the boy had boasted. The septons were always going on about how the Father Above judges us all. If the Father would be so good as to topple over and crush Joff like a dung beetle, I might even believe it."},{"from":"human","value":"He ought to have seen it long ago."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jaime would never send another man to do his killing, and Cersei was too cunning to use a knife that could be traced back to her, but Joff, arrogant vicious stupid little wretch that he was...\n\nHe remembered a cold morning when he'd climbed down the steep exterior steps from Winterfell's library to find Prince Joffrey jesting with the Hound about killing wolves. Send a dog to kill a wolf, he said. Even Joffrey was not so foolish as to command Sandor Clegane to slay a son of Eddard Stark, however; the Hound would have gone to Cersei. Instead the boy found his catspaw among the unsavory lot of freeriders, merchants, and camp followers who'd attached themselves to the king's party as they made their way north. Some poxy lackwit willing to risk his life fora prince's favor and a little coin. Tyrion wondered whose idea it had been to wait until Robert left Winterfell before opening Bran's throat. Joff's, most like. No doubt he thought it was the height of cunning.\n\nThe prince's own dagger had a jeweled pommel and inlaid goldwork on the blade, Tyrion seemed to recall. At least Joff had not been stupid enough to use that. Instead he went poking among his father's weapons. Robert Baratheon was a man of careless generosity, and would have given his son any dagger he wanted... but Tyrion guessed that the boy had just taken it. Robert had come to Winterfell with along tail of knights and retainers, a huge wheelhouse, and a baggage train. No doubt some diligent servant had made certain that the king's weapons went with him, in case he should desire any of them.\n\nThe blade Joff chose was nice and plain. No goldwork, no jewels in the hilt, no silver inlay on the blade. King Robert never wore it, had likely forgotten he owned it. Yet the Valyrian steel was deadly sharp... sharp enough to slice through skin, flesh, and muscle in one quick stroke. I am no stranger to Valyrian steel. But he had been, hadn't he? Else he would never have been so foolish as to pick Littlefinger's knife."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The why of it still eluded him. Simple cruelty, perhaps? His nephew had that in abundance. It was all Tyrion could do not to retch up all the wine he'd drunk, piss in his breeches, or both. He squirmed uncomfortably. He ought to have held his tongue at breakfast. The boy knows I know now. My bigmouth will be the death of me, I swear it.\n\nThe seven vows were made, the seven blessings invoked, and the seven promises exchanged. When the wedding song had been sung and the challenge had gone unanswered, it was time for the exchange of cloaks. Tyrion shifted his weight from one stunted leg to the other, trying to see between his father and his uncle Kevan. If the gods are just, Joff will make a hash of this. He made certain not to look at Sansa, lest his bitterness show in his eyes. You might have knelt, damn you. Would it have been so bloody hard to bend those stiff Stark knees of yours and let me keep a little dignity?\n\nMace Tyrell removed his daughter's maiden cloak tenderly, while Joffrey accepted the folded bride's cloak from his brother Tommen and shook it outwith a flourish. The boy king was as tall at thirteen as his bride was at sixteen; he would not require a fool's back to climb upon. He draped Margaery in the crimson-and-gold and leaned close to fasten it at her throat. And that easily she passed from her father's protection to her husband's. But who will protect her from Joff? Tyrion glanced at the Knight of Flowers, standing with the other Kingsguard. You had best keep your sword well honed, Ser Loras.\n\n\"With this kiss I pledge my love!\" Joffrey declared in ringing tones. When Margaery echoed the words he pulled her close and kissed her long and deep. Rainbow lights danced once more about the High Septon's crown as he solemnly declared Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister and Margaery of House Tyrell to be one flesh, one heart, one soul."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Good, that's done with. Now let's get back to the bloody castle so I can have a piss.\n\nSer Loras and Ser Meryn led the procession from the sept in their white scale armor and snowy cloaks. Then came Prince Tommen, scattering rose petals from a basket before the king and queen. After the royal couple followed Queen Cersei and Lord Tyrell, then the bride's mother arm-in-arm with Lord Tywin. The Queen of Thorns tottered after them with one hand on Ser Kevan Lannister's arm and the other on her cane, her twin guardsmen close behind her in case she fell. Next came Ser Garlan Tyrell and his lady wife, and finally it was their turn.\n\n\"My lady.\" Tyrion offered Sansa his arm. She took it dutifully, but he could feel her stiffness as they walked up the aisle together. She never once looked down at him.\n\nHe heard them cheering outside even before he reached the doors. The mob loved Margaery so much they were even willing to love Joffrey again. She had belonged to Renly, the handsome young prince who had loved them so well he had comeback from beyond the grave to save them. And the bounty of Highgarden had come with her, flowing up the roseroad from the south. The fools didn't seem to remember that it had been Mace Tyrell who closed the roseroad to begin with, and made the bloody famine.\n\nThey stepped out into the crisp autumn air. \"I feared we'd never escape,\" Tyrion quipped.\n\nSansa had no choice but to look at him then. \"I... yes, my lord. As you say.\" She looked sad. \"It was such a beautiful ceremony, though.\"\n\nAs ours was not. \"It was long, I'll say that much. I need to return to the castle fora good piss.\" Tyrion rubbed the stump of his nose. \"Would that I'd contrived some mission to take me out of the city. Littlefinger was the clever one.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Joffrey and Margaery stood surrounded by Kingsguard atop the steps that fronted on the broad marble plaza."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ser Addam and his gold cloaks held back the crowd, while the statue of King Baelor the Blessed gazed down on them benevolently. Tyrion had no choice but to queue up with the rest to offer congratulations. He kissed Margaery's fingers and wished her every happiness. Thankfully, there were others behind them waiting their turn, so they did not need to linger long.\n\nTheir litter had been sitting in the sun, and it was very warm inside the curtains. As they lurched into motion, Tyrion reclined on an elbow while Sansa sat staring at her hands. She is just as comely as the Tyrell girl. Her hair was a rich autumn auburn, her eyes a deep Tully blue. Grief had given her a haunted, vulnerable look; if anything, it had only made her more beautiful. He wanted to reach her, to breakthrough the armor of her courtesy. Was that what made him speak? Or just the need to distract himself from the fullness in his bladder?\n\n\"I had been thinking that when the roads are safe again, we might journey to Casterly Rock.\" Far from Joffrey and my sister. The more he thought about what Joff had done to Lives of Four Kings, the more it troubled him. There was a message there, oh yes. \"It would please me to show you the Golden Gallery and the Lion's Mouth, and the Hall of Heroes where Jaime and I played as boys. You can hear thunder from below where the sea comes in...\"\n\nShe raised her head slowly. He knew what she was seeing; the swollen brutish brow, the raw stump of his nose, his crooked pink scar and mismatched eyes. Her own eyes were big and blue and empty. \"I shall go wherever my lord husband wishes.\"\n\n\"I had hoped it might please you, my lady.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It will please me to please my lord.\"\n\nHis mouth tightened. What apathetic little man you are. Did you think babbling about the Lion's Mouth would make her smile? When have you ever made a woman smile but with gold? \"No, it was a foolish notion. Only a Lannister can love the Rock.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord. As you wish.\"\n\nTyrion could hear the commons shouting out King Joffrey's name. In three years that cruel boy will be a man, ruling in his own right... and every dwarf with half his wits will be along way from King's Landing. Oldtown, perhaps. Or even the Free Cities. He had always had a yen to seethe Titan of Braavos. Perhaps that would please Sansa. Gently, he spoke of Braavos, and meta wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he had walked once in the north. It made him weary. Then and now.\n\nThey passed the rest of the journey in silence. After awhile, Tyrion found himself hoping that Sansa would say something, anything, the merest word, but she never spoke. When the litter halted in the castle yard, he let one of the grooms help her down. \"We will be expected at the feast an hour hence, my lady. I will join you shortly.\" He walked off stiff-legged. Across the yard, he could hear Margaery's breathless laugh as Joffrey swept her from the saddle. The boy will be as tall and strong as Jaime one day, he thought, and I'll still be a dwarf beneath his feet. And one day he's like to make me even shorter...\n\nHe found a privy and sighed gratefully as he relieved himself of the morning's wine. There were times when a piss felt near as good as a woman, and this was one. He wished he could relieve himself of his doubts and guilts half as easily."},{"from":"human","value":"Podrick Payne was waiting outside his chambers."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I laid out your new doublet. Not here. On your bed. In the bedchamber.\"\n\n\"Yes, that's where we keep the bed.\" Sansa would be in there, dressing for the feast. Shae as well. \"Wine, Pod.\"\n\nTyrion drank it in his window seat, brooding over the chaos of the kitchens below. The sun had not yet touched the top of the castle wall, but he could smell breads baking and meats roasting. The guests would soon be pouring into the throne room, full of anticipation; this would bean evening of song and splendor, designed not only to unite Highgarden and Casterly Rock but to trumpet their power and wealth as a lesson to any who might still think to oppose Joffrey's rule.\n\nBut who would be mad enough to contest Joffrey's rule now, after what had befallen Stannis Baratheon and Robb Stark? There was still fighting in the riverlands, but everywhere the coils were tightening. Ser Gregor Clegane had crossed the Trident and seized the ruby ford, then captured Harrenhal almost effortlessly. Seagard had yielded to Black Walder Frey, Lord Randyll Tarly held Maidenpool, Duskendale, and the kingsroad. In the west, Ser Daven Lannister had linked up with Ser Forley Prester at the Golden Tooth fora march on Riverrun. Ser Ryman Frey was leading two thousand spears down from the Twins to join them. And Paxter Redwyne claimed his fleet would soon set sail from the Arbor, to begin the long voyage around Dorne and through the Stepstones. Stannis's Lyseni pirates would be outnumbered ten to one. The struggle that the maesters were calling the War of the Five Kings was all but at an end. Mace Tyrell had been heard complaining that Lord Tywin had left no victories for him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"My lord?\" Pod was at his side. \"Will you be changing? I laid out the doublet. On your bed. For the feast.\"\n\n\"Feast?\" said Tyrion sourly. \"What feast?\"\n\n\"The wedding feast.\" Pod missed the sarcasm, of course. \"King Joffrey and Lady Margaery. Queen Margaery, I mean.\"\n\nTyrion resolved to get very, very drunk tonight. \"Very well, young Podrick, let us go make me festive.\"\n\nShae was helping Sansa with her hair when they entered the bedchamber. Joy and grief, he thought when he beheld them there together. Laughter and tears. Sansa wore a gown of silvery satin trimmed in vair, with dagged sleeves that almost touched the floor, lined in soft purple felt. Shae had arranged her hair artfully in a delicate silver net winking with dark purple gemstones. Tyrion had never seen her look more lovely, yet she wore sorrow on those long satin sleeves. \"Lady Sansa,\" he told her, \"you shall be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight.\"\n\n\"My lord is too kind.\"\n\n\"My lady,\" said Shae wistfully. \"Couldn't I come serve at table? I so want to seethe pigeons fly out of the pie.\"\n\nSansa looked at her uncertainly. \"The queen has chosen all the servers.\"\n\n\"And the hall will be too crowded.\" Tyrion had to bite back his annoyance. \"There will be musicians strolling all through the castle, though, and tables in the outer ward with food and drink for all.\" He inspected his new doublet, crimson velvet with padded shoulders and puffed sleeves slashed to show the black satin underlining. A handsome garment. All it wants is a handsome man to wear it. \"Come, Pod, help me into this.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He had another cup of wine as he dressed, then took his wife by the arm and escorted her from the Kitchen Keep to join the river of silk, satin, and velvet flowing toward the throne room. Some guests had gone inside to find their places on the benches. Others were milling in front of the doors, enjoying the unseasonable warmth of the afternoon. Tyrion led Sansa around the yard, to perform the necessary courtesies.\n\nShe is good at this, he thought, as he watched her tell Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding better, compliment Elinor Tyrell on her gown, and question Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in the Summer Isles. His cousin Ser Lancel had been brought down by Ser Kevan, the first time he'd left his sickbed since the battle. He looks ghastly. Lancel's hair had turned white and brittle, and he was thin as a stick. Without his father beside him holding him up, he would surely have collapsed. Yet when Sansa praised his valor and said how good it was to see him getting strong again, both Lancel and Ser Kevan beamed. She would have made Joffrey a good queen and a better wife if he'd had the sense to love her. He wondered if his nephew was capable of loving anyone.\n\n\"You do look quite exquisite, child,\" Lady Olenna Tyrell told Sansa when she tottered up to them in a cloth-of-gold gown that must have weighed more than she did. \"The wind has been at your hair, though.\" The little old woman reached up and fussed at the loose strands, tucking them back into place and straightening Sansa's hairnet. \"I was very sorry to hear about your losses,\" she said as she tugged and fiddled. \"Your brother was a terrible traitor, I know, but if we start killing men at weddings they'll be even more frightened of marriage than they are presently. There, that's better.\" Lady Olenna smiled. \"I am pleased to say I shall be leaving for Highgarden the day after next. I have had quite enough of this smelly city, thank you. Perhaps you would like to accompany me fora little visit, whilst the men are off having their war? I shall miss my Margaery so dreadfully, and all her lovely ladies. Your company would be such sweet solace.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You are too kind, my lady,\" said Sansa, \"but my place is with my lord husband.\"\n\nLady Olenna gave Tyrion a wrinkled, toothless smile. \"Oh? Forgive a silly old woman, my lord, I did not mean to steal your lovely wife. I assumed you would be off leading a Lannister host against some wicked foe.\"\n\n\"A host of dragons and stags. The master of coin must remain at court to see that all the armies are paid for.\"\n\n\"To be sure. Dragons and stags, that's very clever. And dwarf's pennies as well. I have heard of these dwarf's pennies. No doubt collecting those is such a dreadful chore.\"\n\n\"I leave the collecting to others, my lady.\"\n\n\"Oh, do you? I would have thought you might want to tend to it yourself. We can't have the crown being cheated of its dwarf's pennies, now. Can we?\"\n\n\"Gods forbid.\" Tyrion was beginning to wonder whether Lord Luthor Tyrell had ridden off that cliff intentionally. \"If you will excuse us, Lady Olenna, it is time we were in our places.\"\n\n\"Myself as well. Seventy-seven courses, I daresay. Don't you find that a bit excessive, my lord? I shan't eat more than three or four bites myself, but you and I are very little, aren't we?\" She patted Sansa's hair again and said, \"Well, off with you, child, and try to be merrier. Now where have my guardsmen gone? Left, Right, where are you? Come help me to the dais.\"\n\nAlthough evenfall was still an hour away, the throne room was already ablaze of light, with torches burning in every sconce. The guests stood along the tables as heralds called out the names and titles of the lords and ladies making their entrance. Pages in the royal livery escorted them down the broad central aisle. The gallery above was packed with musicians; drummers and pipers and fiddlers, strings and horns and skins."},{"from":"human","value":"Tyrion clutched Sansa's arm and made the walk with a heavy waddling stride."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He could feel their eyes on him, picking at the fresh new scar that had left him even uglier than he had been before. Let them look, he thought as he hopped up onto his seat. Let them stare and whisper until they've had their fill, I will not hide myself for their sake. The Queen of Thorns followed them in, shuffling along with tiny little steps. Tyrion wondered which of them looked more absurd, him with Sansa or the wizened little woman between her seven-foot-tall twin guardsmen.\n\nJoffrey and Margaery rode into the throne room on matched white chargers. Pages ran before them, scattering rose petals under their hooves. The king and queen had changed for the feast as well. Joffrey wore striped black-and-crimson breeches and a cloth-of-gold doublet with black satin sleeves and onyx studs. Margaery had exchanged the demure gown that she had worn in the sept for one much more revealing, a confection in pale green samite with a tight-laced bodice that bared her shoulders and the tops of her small breasts. Unbound, her soft brown hair tumbled over her white shoulders and down her back almost to her waist. Around her brows was a slim golden crown. Her smile was shy and sweet. A lovely girl, thought Tyrion, and a kinder fate than my nephew deserves.\n\nThe Kingsguard escorted them onto the dais, to the seats of honor beneath the shadow of the Iron Throne, draped for the occasion in long silk streamers of Baratheon gold, Lannister crimson, and Tyrell green. Cersei embraced Margaery and kissed her cheeks. Lord Tywin did the same, and then Lancel and Ser Kevan. Joffrey received loving kisses from the bride's father and his two new brothers, Loras and Garlan. No one seemed in any great rush to kiss Tyrion. When the king and queen had taken their seats, the High Septon rose to lead a prayer. At least he does not drone as badly as the last one, Tyrion consoled himself."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He and Sansa had been seated far to the king's right, beside Ser Garlan Tyrell and his wife, the Lady Leonette. A dozen others sat closer to Joffrey, which a pricklier man might have taken fora slight, given that he had been the King's Hand only a short time past. Tyrion would have been glad if there had been a hundred.\n\n\"Let the cups be filled!\" Joffrey proclaimed, when the gods had been given their due. His cupbearer poured a whole flagon of dark Arbor red into the golden wedding chalice that Lord Tyrell had given him that morning. The king had to use both hands to lift it. \"To my wife the queen!\"\n\n\"Margaery!\" the hall shouted back at him. \"Margaery! Margaery! To the queen!\" A thousand cups rang together, and the wedding feast was well and truly begun. Tyrion Lannister drank with the rest, emptying his cup on that first toast and signaling for it to be refilled as soon as he was seated again.\n\nThe first dish was a creamy soup of mushrooms and buttered snails, served in gilded bowls. Tyrion had scarcely touched the breakfast, and the wine had already gone to his head, so the food was welcome. He finished quickly. One done, seventy-six to come. Seventy-seven dishes, while there are still starving children in this city, and men who would kill fora radish. They might not love the Tyrells half so well if they could see us now.\n\nSansa tasted a spoonful of soup and pushed the bowl away. \"Not to your liking, my lady?\" Tyrion asked.\n\n\"There's to be so much, my lord. I have a little tummy.\" She fiddled nervously with her hair and looked down the table to where Joffrey sat with his Tyrell queen."},{"from":"human","value":"Does she wish it were her in Margaery's place?"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tyrion frowned. Even a child should have better sense. He turned away, wanting distraction, but everywhere he looked were women, fair fine beautiful happy women who belonged to other men. Margaery, of course, smiling sweetly as she and Joffrey shared a drink from the great seven-sided wedding chalice. Her mother Lady Alerie, silver-haired and handsome, still proud beside Mace Tyrell. The queen's three young cousins, bright as birds. Lord Merryweather's dark-haired Myrish wife with her big black sultry eyes. Ellaria Sand among the Dornishmen (Cersei had placed them at their own table, just below the dais in a place of high honor but as far from the Tyrells as the width of the hall would allow), laughing at something the Red Viper had told her.\n\nAnd there was one woman, sitting almost at the foot of the third table on the left... the wife of one of the Fossoways, he thought, and heavy with his child. Her delicate beauty was in noway diminished by her belly, nor washer pleasure in the food and frolics. Tyrion watched as her husband fed her morsels off his plate. They drank from the same cup, and would kiss often and unpredictably. Whenever they did, his hand would gently rest upon her stomach, a tender and protective gesture.\n\nHe wondered what Sansa would do if he leaned over and kissed her right now. Flinch away, most likely. Or be brave and suffer through it, as washer duty. She is nothing if not dutiful, this wife of mine. If he told her that he wished to have her maidenhead tonight, she would suffer that dutifully as well, and weep no more than she had to.\n\nHe called for more wine. By the time he got it, the second course was being served, a pstry coffyn filled with pork, pine nuts, and eggs. Sansa ate no more than a bite of hers, as the heralds were summoning the first of the seven singers."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 59\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I am.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Arstan Whitebeard leapt from his horse and stood over her, the salt wind riffling through his snowy hair, both hands on his tall hardwood staff.\\n\\n\\\"Grandfather,\\\" Mero said, \\\"runoff before I break your stick in two and bugger you with-\\\"\\n\\nThe old man feinted with one end of the staff, pulled it back, and whipped the other end about faster than Dany would have believed. The Titan's Bastard staggered back into the surf, spitting blood and broken teeth from the ruin of his mouth. Whitebeard put Dany behind him. Mero slashed at his face. The old man jerked back, cat-quick. The staff thumped Mero's ribs, sending him reeling. Arstan splashed sideways, parried a looping cut, danced away from a second, checked a third mid-swing. The moves were so fast she could hardly follow. Missandei was pulling Dany to her feet when she heard a crack. She thought Arstan's staff had snapped until she saw the jagged bone jutting from Mero's calf. Ashe fell, the Titan's Bastard twisted and lunged, sending his point straight at the old man's chest. Whitebeard swept the blade aside almost contemptuously and smashed the other end of his staff against the big man's temple. Mero went sprawling, blood bubbling from his mouth as the waves washed over him. A moment later the freedmen washed over him too, knives and stones and angry fists rising and falling in a frenzy.\\n\\nDany turned away, sickened. She was more frightened now than when it had been happening. He would have killed me.\\n\\n\\\"Your Grace.\\\" Arstan knelt. \\\"I am an old man, and shamed. He should never have gotten close enough to seize you. I was lax. I did not know him without his beard and hair.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No more than I did.\\\" Dany took a deep breath to stop her shaking. Enemies everywhere. \\\"Take me back to my tent. Please.\\\"\\n\\nBy the time Mormont arrived, she was huddled in her lion pelt, drinking a cup of spice wine. \\\"I had a look at the river wall,\\\" Ser Jorah started. \\\"It's a few feet higher than the others, and just as strong. And the Meereenese have a dozen fire hulks tied up beneath the ramparts-\\\"\\n\\nShe cut him off. \\\"You might have warned me that the Titan's Bastard had escaped.\\\"\\n\\nHe frowned. \\\"I saw no need to frighten you, Your Grace. I have offered a reward for his head-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pay it to Whitebeard. Mero has been with us all the way from Yunkai. He shaved his beard off and lost himself amongst the freedmen, waiting fora chance for vengeance. Arstan killed him.\\\"\\n\\nSer Jorah gave the old man along look. \\\"A squire with a stick slew Mero of Braavos, is that the way of it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A stick,\\\" Dany confirmed, \\\"but no longer a squire. Ser Jorah, it's my wish that Arstan be knighted.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\nThe loud refusal was surprise enough. Stranger still, it came from both men at once.\\n\\nSer Jorah drew his sword. \\\"The Titan's Bastard was a nasty piece of work. And good at killing. Who are you, old man?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A better knight than you, ser,\\\" Arstan said coldly.\\n\\nKnight? Dany was confused. \\\"You said you were a squire.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was, Your Grace.\\\" He dropped to one knee. \\\"I squired for Lord Swann in my youth, and at Magister Illyrio's behest I have served Strong Belwas as well. But during the years between, I was a knight in Westeros. I have told you no lies, my queen. Yet there are truths I have withheld, and for that and all my other sins I can only beg your forgiveness.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What truths have you withheld?\\\" Dany did not like this. \\\"You will tell me. Now.\\\"\\n\\nHe bowed his head. \\\"At Qarth, when you asked my name, I said I was called Arstan. That much was true. Many men had called me by that name while Belwas and I were making our way east to find you. But it is not my true name.\\\"\\n\\nShe was more confused than angry. He has played me false, just as Jorah warned me, yet he saved my life just now.\\n\\nSer Jorah flushed red. \\\"Mero shaved his beard, but you grew one, didn't you? No wonder you looked so bloody familiar...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You know him?\\\" Dany asked the exile knight, lost.\\n\\n\\\"I saw him perhaps a dozen times... from afar most often, standing with his brothers or riding in some tourney. But every man in the Seven Kingdoms knew Barristan the Bold.\\\" He laid the point of his sword against the old man's neck. \\\"Khaleesi, before you kneels Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who betrayed your House to serve the Usurper Robert Baratheon.\\\"\\n\\nThe old knight did not so much as blink. \\\"The crow calls the raven black, and you speak of betrayal.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why are you here?\\\" Dany demanded of him. \\\"If Robert sent you to kill me, why did you save my life?\\\" He served the Usurper. He betrayed Rhaegar's memory, and abandoned Viserys to live and die in exile. Yet if he wanted me dead, he need only have stood aside...\\\"I want the whole truth now, on your honor as a knight. Are you the Usurper's man, or mine?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yours, if you will have me.\\\" Ser Barristan had tears in his eyes. \\\"I took Robert's pardon, aye. I served him in Kingsguard and council. Served with the Kingslayer and others near as bad, who soiled the white cloak I wore. Nothing will excuse that. I might be serving in King's Landing still if the vile boy upon the Iron Throne had not cast me aside, it shames me to admit. But when he took the cloak that the White Bull had draped about my shoulders, and sent men to kill me that selfsame day, it was as though he'd ripped a caul off my eyes. That was when I knew I must find my true king, and die in his service-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can grant that wish,\\\" Ser Jorah said darkly.\\n\\n\\\"Quiet,\\\" said Dany. \\\"I'll hear him out.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It maybe that I must die a traitor's death,\\\" Ser Barristan said. \\\"If so, I should not die alone. Before I took Robert's pardon I fought against him on the Trident. You were on the other side of that battle, Mormont, were you not?\\\" He did not wait for an answer. \\\"Your Grace, I am sorry I misled you. It was the only way to keep the Lannisters from learning that I had joined you. You are watched, as your brother was. Lord Varys reported every move Viserys made, for years. Whilst I sat on the small council, I heard a hundred such reports. And since the day you wed Khal Drogo, there has been an informer by your side selling your secrets, trading whispers to the Spider for gold and promises.\\\"\\n\\nHe cannot mean...\\\"You are mistaken.\\\" Dany looked at Jorah Mormont. \\\"Tell him he's mistaken. There's no informer. Ser Jorah, tell him. We crossed the Dothraki sea together, and the red waste...\\\" Her heart fluttered like a bird in a trap. \\\"Tell him, Jorah. Tell him how he got it wrong.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The Others take you, Selmy.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Jorah flung his longsword to the carpet. \\\"Khaleesi, it was only at the start, before I came to know you... before I came to love...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do not say that word!\\\" She backed away from him. \\\"How could you? What did the Usurper promise you? Gold, was it gold?\\\" The Undying had said she would be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love. \\\"Tell me what you were promised?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Varys said... I might go home.\\\" He bowed his head.\\n\\nI was going to take you home! Her dragons sensed her fury. Viserion roared, and smoke rose grey from his snout. Drogon beat the air with black wings, and Rhaegal twisted his head back and belched flame. I should say the word and burn the two of them. Was there no one she could trust, no one to keep her safe? \\\"Are all the knights of Westeros so false as you two? Get out, before my dragons roast you both. What does roast liar smell like? As foul as Brown Ben's sewers? Go!\\\"\\n\\nSer Barristan rose stiff and slow. For the first time, he looked his age. \\\"Where shall we go, Your Grace?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To hell, to serve King Robert.\\\" Dany felt hot tears on her cheeks. Drogon screamed, lashing his tailback and forth. \\\"The Others can have you both.\\\" Go, go away forever, both of you, the next time I see your faces I'll have your traitors\\\" heads off. She could not say the words, though. They betrayed me. But they saved me. But they lied. \\\"You go...\\\" My bear, my fierce strong bear, what will I do without him? And the old man, my brother's friend. \\\"You go... go...\\\" Where?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And then she knew.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"TYRION\\n\\nTyrion dressed himself in darkness, listening to his wife's soft breathing from the bed they shared. She dreams, he thought, when Sansa murmured something softly-a name, perhaps, though it was too faint to say-and turned onto her side. As man and wife they shared a marriage bed, but that was all. Even her tears she hoards to herself.\\n\\nHe had expected anguish and anger when he told her of her brother's death, but Sansa's face had remained so still that fora moment he feared she had not understood. It was only later, with a heavy oaken door between them, that he heard her sobbing. Tyrion had considered going to her then, to offer what comfort he could. No, he had to remind himself, she will not look for solace from a Lannister. The most he could do was to shield her from the uglier details of the Red Wedding as they came down from the Twins. Sansa did not need to hear how her brother's body had been hacked and mutilated, he decided; nor how her mother's corpse had been dumped naked into the Green Fork in a savage mockery of House Tully's funeral customs. The last thing the girl needed was more fodder for her nightmares.\\n\\nIt was not enough, though. He had wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and sworn to protect her, but that was as cruel a jape as the crown the Freys had placed atop the head of Robb Stark's direwolf after they'd sewn it onto his headless corpse. Sansa knew that as well. The way she looked at him, her stiffness when she climbed into their bed... when he was with her, never for an instant could he forget who he was, or what he was. No more than she did. She still went nightly to the godswood to pray, and Tyrion wondered if she were praying for his death. She had lost her home, her place in the world, and everyone she had ever loved or trusted. Winter is coming, warned the Stark words, and truly it had come for them with a vengeance. But it is high summer for House Lannister. So why am I so bloody cold?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He pulled on his boots, fastened his cloak with a lion's head brooch, and slipped out into the torchlit hall. There was this much to be said for his marriage; it had allowed him to escape Maegor's Holdfast. Now that he had a wife and household, his lord father had agreed that more suitable accommodations were required, and Lord Gyles had found himself abruptly dispossessed of his spacious apartments atop the Kitchen Keep. And splendid apartments they were too, with a large bedchamber and adequate solar, a bath and dressing room for his wife, and small adjoining chambers for Pod and Sansa's maids. Even Bronn's cell by the stair had a window of sorts. Well, more an arrow slit, but it lets in light. The castle's main kitchen was just across the courtyard, true, but Tyrion found those sounds and smells infinitely preferable to sharing Maegor's with his sister. The less he had to see of Cersei the happier he was like to be.\\n\\nTyrion could hear Brella's snoring as he passed her cell. Shae complained of that, but it seemed a small enough price to pay. Varys had suggested the woman to him; informer days, she had run Lord Renly's household in the city, which had given her a deal of practice at being blind, deaf, and mute.\\n\\nLighting a taper, he made his way back to the servants' steps and descended. The floors below his own were still, and he heard no footsteps but his own. Down he went, to the ground floor and beyond, to emerge in a gloomy cellar with a vaulted stone ceiling. Much of the castle was connected underground, and the Kitchen Keep was no exception. Tyrion waddled along along dark passageway until he found the door he wanted, and pushed through.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Within, the dragon skulls were waiting, and so was Shae.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I thought m'lord had forgotten me.\\\" Her dress was draped over a black tooth near as tall as she was, and she stood within the dragon's jaws, nude. Balerion, he thought. Or was it Vhagar? One dragon skull looked much like another.\\n\\nJust the sight of her made him hard. \\\"Come out of there.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I won't.\\\" She smiled her wickedest smile. \\\"M'lord will pluck me from the dragon's jaws, I know.\\\" But when he waddled closer she leaned forward and blew out the taper.\\n\\n\\\"Shae...\\\" He reached, but she spun and slipped free.\\n\\n\\\"You have to catch me.\\\" Her voice came from his left. \\\"M'lord must have played monsters and maidens when he was little.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you calling me a monster?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No more than I'm a maiden.\\\" She was behind him, her steps soft against the floor. \\\"You need to catch me all the same.\\\"\\n\\nHe did, finally, but only because she let herself be caught. By the time she slipped into his arms, he was flushed and out of breath from stumbling into dragon skulls. All that was forgotten in an instant when he felt her small breasts pressed against his face in the dark, her stiff little nipples brushing lightly over his lips and the scar where his nose had been. Tyrion pulled her down onto the floor. \\\"My giant,\\\" she breathed as he entered her. \\\"My giant's come to save me.\\\"\\n\\nAfter, as they lay entwined amongst the dragon skulls, he rested his head against her, inhaling the smooth clean smell of her hair. \\\"We should go back,\\\" he said reluctantly. \\\"It must be near dawn. Sansa will be waking.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You should give her dreamwine,\\\" Shae said, \\\"like Lady Tanda does with Lollys. A cup before she goes to sleep, and we could fuck in bed beside her without her waking.\\\" She giggled. \\\"Maybe we should, some night. Would m'lord like that?\\\" Her hand found his shoulder, and began to knead the muscles there. \\\"Your neck is hard as stone. What troubles you?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tyrion could not see his fingers in front of his face, but he ticked his woes off on them all the same. \\\"My wife. My sister. My nephew. My father. The Tyrells.\\\" He had to move to his other hand. \\\"Varys. Pycelle. Littlefinger. The Red Viper of Dorne.\\\" He had come to his last finger. \\\"The face that stares back out of the water when I wash.\\\"\\n\\nShae kissed his maimed scarred nose. \\\"A brave face. A kind and good face. I wish I could see it now.\\\"\\n\\nAll the sweet innocence of the world was in her voice. Innocence? Fool, she's a whore, all she knows of men is the bit between their legs. Fool, fool. \\\"Better you than me.\\\" Tyrion sat. \\\"We have along day before us, both of us. You shouldn't have blown out that taper. How are we to find our clothing?\\\"\\n\\nShe laughed. \\\"Maybe we'll have to go naked.\\\"\\n\\nAnd if we're seen, my lord father will hang you. Hiring Shae as one of Sansa's maids had given him an excuse to be seen talking with her, but Tyrion did not delude himself that they were safe. Varys had warned him. \\\"I gave Shae a false history, but it was meant for Lollys and Lady Tanda. Your sister is of a more suspicious mind. If she should ask me what I know...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You will tell her some clever lie.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. I will tell her that the girl is a common camp follower that you acquired before the battle on the Green Fork and brought to King's Landing against your lord father's express command. I will not lie to the queen.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You have lied to her before. Shall I tell her that?\\\"\\n\\nThe eunuch sighed. \\\"That cuts more deeply than a knife, my lord. I have served you loyally, but I must also serve your sister when I can. How long do you think she would let me live if I were of no further use to her whatsoever? I have no fierce sellsword to protect me, no valiant brother to avenge me, only some little birds who whisper in my ear. With those whisperings I must buy my life anew each day.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pardon me if I do not weep for you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I shall, but you must pardon me if I do not weep for Shae. I confess, I do not understand what there is in her to make a clever manlike you act such a fool.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You might, if you were not a eunuch.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is that the way of it? A man may have wits, or a bit of meat between his legs, but not both?\\\" Varys tittered. \\\"Perhaps I should be grateful I was cut, then.\\\"\\n\\nThe Spider was right. Tyrion groped through the dragon-haunted darkness for his smallclothes, feeling wretched. The risk he was taking left him tight as a drumhead, and there was guilt as well. The Others can take my guilt, he thought as he slipped his tunic over his head. Why should I be guilty? My wife wants no part of me, and most especially not the part that seems to want her. Perhaps he ought to tell her about Shae. It was not as though he was the first man ever to keep a concubine. Sansa's own oh-so-honorable father had given her a bastard brother. For all he knew, his wife might be thrilled to learn that he was fucking Shae, so long as it spared her his unwelcome touch.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"No, I dare not. Vows or no, his wife could not be trusted. She might be maiden between the legs, but she was hardly innocent of betrayal; she had once spilled her own father's plans to Cersei. And girls her age were not known for keeping secrets.\\n\\nThe only safe course was to rid himself of Shae. I might send her to Chataya, Tyrion reflected, reluctantly. In Chataya's brothel, Shae would have all the silks and gems she could wish for, and the gentlest highborn patrons. It would be a better life by far than the one she had been living when he'd found her.\\n\\nOr, if she was tired of earning her bread on her back, he might arrange a marriage for her. Bronn, perhaps? The sellsword had never balked at eating off his master's plate, and he was a knight now, a better match than she could elsewise hope for. Or Ser Tallad? Tyrion had noticed that one gazing wistfully at Shae more than once. Why not? He's tall, strong, not hard to look upon, every inch the gifted young knight. Of course, Tallad knew Shae only as a pretty young lady's maid in service at the castle. If hewed her and then learned she was a whore...\\n\\n\\\"M'lord, where are you? Did the dragons eat you up?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. Here.\\\" He groped at a dragon skull. \\\"I have found a shoe, but I believe it's yours.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"M'lord sounds very solemn. Have I displeased you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" he said, too curtly. \\\"You always please me.\\\" And therein is our danger. He might dream of sending her away at times like this, but that never lasted long. Tyrion saw her dimly through the gloom, pulling a woolen sock up a slender leg. I can see. A vague light was leaking through the row of long narrow windows set high in the cellar wall. The skulls of the Targaryen dragons were emerging from the darkness around them, black amidst grey. \\\"Day comes too soon.\\\" Anew day. Anew year. Anew century. I survived the Green Fork and the Blackwater, I can bloody well survive King Joffrey's wedding.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Shae snatched her dress down off the dragon's tooth and slipped it over her head.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I'll go up first. Brella will want help with the bathwater.\\\" She bent over to give him one last kiss, upon the brow. \\\"My giant of Lannister. I love you so.\\\"\\n\\nAnd I love you as well, sweetling. A whore she might well be, but she deserved better than what he had to give her. I will wed her to Ser Tallad. He seems a decent man. And tall...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"SANSA\\n\\nThat was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so...\\n\\nShe threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.\\n\\nHer lord husband was not beside her, but she was used to that. Tyrion was a bad sleeper and often rose before the dawn. Usually she found him in the solar, hunched beside a candle, lost in some old scroll or leatherbound book. Sometimes the smell of the morning bread from the ovens took him to the kitchens, and sometimes he would climb up to the roof garden or wander all alone down Traitor's Walk.\\n\\nShe threw back the shutters and shivered as gooseprickles rose along her arms. There were clouds massing in the eastern sky, pierced by shafts of sunlight. They look like two huge castles afloat in the morning sky. Sansa could see their walls of tumbled stone, their mighty keeps and barbicans. Wispy banners swirled from atop their towers and reached for the fast-fading stars. The sun was coming up behind them, and she watched them go from black to grey to a thousand shades of rose and gold and crimson. Soon the wind mushed them together, and there was only one castle where there had been two.\\n\\nShe heard the door open as her maids brought the hot water for her bath. They were both new to her service; Tyrion said the women who'd tended to her previously had all been Cersei's spies, just as Sansa had always suspected. \\\"Come see,\\\" she told them. \\\"There's a castle in the sky.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They came to have a look. \\\"It's made of gold.\\\" Shae had short dark hair and bold eyes. She did all that was asked of her, but sometimes she gave Sansa the most insolent looks. \\\"A castle all of gold, there's a sight I'd like to see.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A castle, is it?\\\" Brella had to squint. \\\"That tower's tumbling over, looks like. It's all ruins, that is.\\\"\\n\\nSansa did not want to hear about falling towers and ruined castles. She closed the shutters and said, \\\"We are expected at the queen's breakfast. Is my lord husband in the solar?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, m'lady,\\\" said Brella. \\\"I have not seen him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Might be he went to see his father,\\\" Shae declared. \\\"Might be the King's Hand had need of his counsel.\\\"\\n\\nBrella gave a sniff. \\\"Lady Sansa, you'll be wanting to get into the tub before the water gets too cool.\\\"\\n\\nSansa let Shae pull her shift up over her head and climbed into the big wooden tub. She was tempted to ask fora cup of wine, to calm her nerves. The wedding was to beat midday in the Great Sept of Baelor across the city. And come evenfall the feast would beheld in the throne room; a thousand guests and seventy-seven courses, with singers and jugglers and mummers. But first came breakfast in the Queen's Ballroom, for the Lannisters and the Tyrell men-the Tyrell women would be breaking their fast with Margaery-and a hundred odd knights and lordlings. They have made me a Lannister, Sansa thought bitterly.\\n\\nBrella sent Shae to fetch more hot water while she washed Sansa's back. \\\"You are trembling, m'lady.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The water is not hot enough,\\\" Sansa lied.\\n\\nHer maids were dressing her when Tyrion appeared, Podrick Payne in tow. \\\"You look lovely, Sansa.\\\" He turned to his squire. \\\"Pod, be so good as to pour me a cup of wine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There will be wine at the breakfast, my lord,\\\" Sansa said.\\n\\n\\\"There's wine here. You don't expect me to face my sister sober, surely? It's anew century, my lady. The three hundredth year since Aegon's Conquest.\\\" The dwarf took a cup of red from Podrick and raised it high. \\\"To Aegon. What a fortunate fellow. Two sisters, two wives, and three big dragons, what more could a man ask for?\\\" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.\\n\\nThe Imp's clothing was soiled and unkempt, Sansa noticed; it looked as though he'd slept in it. \\\"Will you be changing into fresh garb, my lord? Your new doublet is very handsome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The doublet is handsome, yes.\\\" Tyrion put the cup aside. \\\"Come, Pod, let us see if we can find some garments to make me look less dwarfish. I would not want to shame my lady wife.\\\"\\n\\nWhen the Imp returned a short time later, he was presentable enough, and even a little taller. Podrick Payne had changed as well, and looked almost a proper squire for once, although a rather large red pimple in the fold beside his nose spoiled the effect of his splendid purple, white, and gold raiment. He is such a timid boy. Sansa had been wary of Tyrion's squire at first; he was a Payne, cousin to Ser Ilyn Payne who had taken her father's head off. However, she'd soon come to realize that Pod was as frightened of her as she was of his cousin. Whenever she spoke to him, he turned the most alarming shade of red.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Are purple, gold, and white the colors of House Payne, Podrick?\\\" she asked him politely.\\n\\n\\\"No. I mean, yes.\\\" He blushed. \\\"The colors. Our arms are purple and white chequy, my lady. With gold coins. In the checks. Purple and white. Both.\\\" He studied her feet.\\n\\n\\\"There's a tale behind those coins,\\\" said Tyrion. \\\"No doubt Pod will confide it to your toes one day. Just now we are expected at the Queen's Ballroom, however. Shall we?\\\"\\n\\nSansa was tempted to beg off. I could tell him that my tummy was upset, or that my moon's blood had come. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and pull the drapes. I must be brave, like Robb, she told herself, as she took her lord husband stiffly by the arm.\\n\\nIn the Queen's Ballroom they broke their fast on honeycakes baked with blackberries and nuts, gammon steaks, bacon, fingerfish crisped in breadcrumbs, autumn pears, and a Dornish dish of onions, cheese, and chopped eggs cooked up with fiery peppers. \\\"Nothing like a hearty breakfast to whet one's appetite for the seventy-seven-course feast to follow,\\\" Tyrion commented as their plates were filled. There were flagons of milk and flagons of mead and flagons of alight sweet golden wine to wash it down. Musicians strolled among the tables, piping and fluting and fiddling, while Ser Dontos galloped about on his broomstick horse and Moon Boy made farting sounds with his cheeks and sang rude songs about the guests.\\n\\nTyrion scarce touched his food, Sansa noticed, though he drank several cups of the wine. For herself, she tried a little of the Dornish eggs, but the peppers burned her mouth. Otherwise she only nibbled at the fruit and fish and honeycakes. Every time Joffrey looked at her, her tummy got so fluttery that she felt as though she'd swallowed a bat.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"When the food had been cleared away, the queen solemnly presented Joff with the wife's cloak that he would drape over Margaery's shoulders.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It is the cloak I donned when Robert took me for his queen, the same cloak my mother Lady Joanna wore when wed to my lord father.\\\" Sansa thought it looked threadbare, if truth be told, but perhaps because it was soused.\\n\\nThen it was time for gifts. It was traditional in the Reach to give presents to bride and groom on the morning of their wedding; on the morrow they would receive more presents as a couple, but today's tokens were for their separate persons.\\n\\nFrom Jalabhar Xho, Joffrey received a great bow of golden wood and quiver of long arrows fletched with green and scarlet feathers; from Lady Tanda a pair of supple riding boots; from Ser Kevan a magnificent red leather jousting saddle; a red gold brooch wrought in the shape of a scorpion from the Dornishman, Prince Oberyn; silver spurs from Ser Addam Marbrand; a red silk tourney pavilion from Lord Mathis Rowan. Lord Paxter Redwyne brought forth a beautiful wooden model of the war galley of two hundred oars being built even now on the Arbor. \\\"If it please Your Grace, she will be called King Joffrey's Valor,\\\" he said, and Joff allowed that he was very pleased indeed. \\\"I will make it my flagship when I sail to Dragonstone to kill my traitor uncle Stannis,\\\" he said.\\n\\nHe plays the gracious king today. Joffrey could be gallant when it suited him, Sansa knew, but it seemed to suit him less and less. Indeed, all his courtesy vanished at once when Tyrion presented him with their own gift: a huge old book called Lives of Four Kings, bound in leather and gorgeously illuminated. The king leafed through it with no interest. \\\"And what is this, Uncle?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A book. Sansa wondered if Joffrey moved those fat wormy lips of his when he read.\\n\\n\\\"Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good,\\\" her small husband answered.\\n\\n\\\"A book every king should read, Your Grace,\\\" said Ser Kevan.\\n\\n\\\"My father had no time for books.\\\" Joffrey shoved the tome across the table. \\\"If you read less, Uncle Imp, perhaps Lady Sansa would have a baby in her belly by now.\\\" He laughed... and when the king laughs, the court laughs with him. \\\"Don't be sad, Sansa, once I've gotten Queen Margaery with child I'll visit your bedchamber and show my little uncle how it's done.\\\"\\n\\nSansa reddened. She glanced nervously at Tyrion, afraid of what he might say. This could turn as nasty as the bedding had at their own feast. But for once the dwarf filled his mouth with wine instead of words.\\n\\nLord Mace Tyrell came forward to present his gift: a golden chalice three feet tall, with two ornate curved handles and seven faces glittering with gemstones. \\\"Seven faces for Your Grace's seven kingdoms,\\\" the bride's father explained. He showed them how each face bore the sigil of one of the great houses: ruby lion, emerald rose, onyx stag, silver trout, blue jade falcon, opal sun, and pearl direwolf.\\n\\n\\\"A splendid cup,\\\" said Joffrey, \\\"but we'll need to chip the wolf off and put a squid in its place, I think.\\\"\\n\\nSansa pretended that she had not heard.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Margaery and I shall drink deep at the feast, good father.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Joffrey lifted the chalice above his head, for everyone to admire.\\n\\n\\\"The damned thing's as tall as I am,\\\" Tyrion muttered in a low voice. \\\"Half a chalice and Joff will befalling down drunk.\\\"\\n\\nGood, she thought. Perhaps he'll break his neck.\\n\\nLord Tywin waited until last to present the king with his own gift: a longsword. Its scabbard was made of cherrywood, gold, and oiled red leather, studded with golden lions' heads. The lions had ruby eyes, she saw. The ballroom fell silent as Joffrey unsheathed the blade and thrust the sword above his head. Red and black ripples in the steel shimmered in the morning light.\\n\\n\\\"Magnificent,\\\" declared Mathis Rowan.\\n\\n\\\"A sword to sing of, sire,\\\" said Lord Redwyne.\\n\\n\\\"A king's sword,\\\" said Ser Kevan Lannister.\\n\\nKing Joffrey looked as if he wanted to kill someone right then and there, he was so excited. He slashed at the air and laughed. \\\"A great sword must have a great name, my lords! What shall I call it?\\\"\\n\\nSansa remembered Lion's Tooth, the sword Arya had flung into the Trident, and Hearteater, the one he'd made her kiss before the battle. She wondered if he'd want Margaery to kiss this one.\\n\\nThe guests were shouting out names for the new blade. Joff dismissed a dozen before he heard one he liked. \\\"Widow's Wail!\\\" he cried. \\\"Yes! It shall make many a widow, too!\\\" He slashed again. \\\"And when I face my uncle Stannis it will break his magic sword clean in two.\\\" Joff tried a downcut, forcing Ser Balon Swann to take a hasty step backward. Laughter rang through the hall at the look on Ser Balon's face.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Have a care, Your Grace,\\\" Ser Addam Marbrand warned the king. \\\"Valyrian steel is perilously sharp.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I remember.\\\" Joffrey brought Widow's Wail down in a savage two-handed slice, onto the book that Tyrion had given him. The heavy leather cover parted at a stroke. \\\"Sharp! I told you, I am no stranger to Valyrian steel.\\\" It took him half a dozen further cuts to hack the thick tome apart, and the boy was breathless by the time he was done. Sansa could feel her husband struggling with his fury as Ser Osmund Kettleblack shouted, \\\"I pray you never turn that wicked edge on me, sire.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"See that you never give me cause, ser.\\\" Joffrey flicked a chunk of Lives of Four Kings off the table at swordpoint, then slid Widow's Wail back into its scabbard.\\n\\n\\\"Your Grace,\\\" Ser Garlan Tyrell said. \\\"Perhaps you did not know. In all of Westeros there were but four copies of that book illuminated in Kaeth's own hand.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now there are three.\\\" Joffrey undid his old swordbelt to don his new one. \\\"You and Lady Sansa owe me a better present, Uncle Imp. This one is all chopped to pieces.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion was staring at his nephew with his mismatched eyes. \\\"Perhaps a knife, sire. To match your sword. A dagger of the same fine Valyrian steel... with a dragonbone hilt, say?\\\"\\n\\nJoff gave him a sharp look. \\\"You... yes, a dagger to match my sword, good.\\\" He nodded. \\\"A... a gold hilt with rubies in it. Dragonbone is too plain.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you wish, Your Grace.\\\" Tyrion drank another cup of wine. He might have been all alone in his solar for all the attention he paid Sansa. But when the time came to leave for the wedding, he took her by the hand.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As they were crossing the yard, Prince Oberyn of Dorne fell in beside them, his black-haired paramour on his arm. Sansa glanced at the woman curiously. She was baseborn and unwed, and had borne two bastard daughters for the prince, but she did not fear to look even the queen in the eye. Shae had told her that this Ellaria worshiped some Lysene love goddess. \\\"She was almost a whore when he found her, m'lady,\\\" her maid confided, \\\"and now she's near a princess.\\\" Sansa had never been this close to the Dornishwoman before. She is not truly beautiful, she thought, but something about her draws the eye.\\n\\n\\\"I once had the great good fortune to seethe Citadel's copy of Lives of Four Kings,\\\" Prince Oberyn was telling her lord husband. \\\"The illuminations were wondrous to behold, but Kaeth was too kind by half to King Viserys.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion gave him a sharp look. \\\"Too kind? He scants Viserys shamefully, in my view. It should have been Lives of Five Kings.\\\"\\n\\nThe prince laughed. \\\"Viserys hardly reigned a fortnight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He reigned more than a year,\\\" said Tyrion.\\n\\nOberyn gave a shrug. \\\"A year or a fortnight, what does it matter? He poisoned his own nephew to gain the throne and then did nothing once he had it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Baelor starved himself to death, fasting,\\\" said Tyrion. \\\"His uncle served him loyally as Hand, as he had served the Young Dragon before him. Viserys might only have reigned a year, but he ruled for fifteen, while Daeron warred and Baelor prayed.\\\" He made a sour face. \\\"And if he did remove his nephew, can you blame him? Someone had to save the realm from Baelor's follies.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sansa was shocked. \\\"But Baelor the Blessed was a great king. He walked the Boneway barefoot to make peace with Dorne, and rescued the Dragonknight from a snakepit. The vipers refused to strike him because he was so pure and holy.\\\"\\n\\nPrince Oberyn smiled. \\\"If you were a viper, my lady, would you want to bite a bloodless stick like Baelor the Blessed? I'd sooner save my fangs for someone juicier...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My prince is playing with you, Lady Sansa,\\\" said the woman Ellaria Sand. \\\"The septons and singers like to say that the snakes did not bite Baelor, but the truth is very different. He was bitten half a hundred times, and should have died from it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If he had, Viserys would have reigned a dozen years,\\\" said Tyrion, \\\"and the Seven Kingdoms might have been better served. Some believe Baelor was deranged by all that venom.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" said Prince Oberyn, \\\"but I've seen no snakes in this Red Keep of yours. So how do you account for Joffrey?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I prefer not to.\\\" Tyrion inclined his head stiffly. \\\"If you will excuse us. Our litter awaits.\\\" The dwarf helped Sansa up inside and clambered awkwardly after her. \\\"Close the curtains, my lady, if you'd be so good.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Must we, my lord?\\\" Sansa did not want to be shut behind the curtains. \\\"The day is so lovely.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The good people of King's Landing are like to throw dung at the litter if they see me inside it. Do us both a kindness, my lady. Close the curtains.\\\"\\n\\nShe did as he bid her. They sat fora time, as the air grew warm and stuffy around them. \\\"I was sorry about your book, my lord,\\\" she made herself say.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It was Joffrey's book. He might have learned a thing or two if he'd read it.\\\" He sounded distracted. \\\"I should have known better. I should have seen... a good many things.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps the dagger will please him more.\\\"\\n\\nWhen the dwarf grimaced, his scar tightened and twisted. \\\"The boy's earned himself a dagger, wouldn't you say?\\\" Thankfully Tyrion did not wait for her reply. \\\"Joff quarreled with your brother Robb at Winterfell. Tell me, was there ill feeling between Bran and His Grace as well?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bran?\\\" The question confused her. \\\"Before he fell, you mean?\\\" She had to try and think back. It was all so long ago. \\\"Bran was a sweet boy. Everyone loved him. He and Tommen fought with wooden swords, I remember, but just for play.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion lapsed back into moody silence. Sansa heard the distant clank of chains from outside; the portcullis was being drawn up. A moment later there was a shout, and their litter swayed into motion. Deprived of the passing scenery, she chose to stare at her folded hands, uncomfortably aware of her husband's mismatched eyes. Why is he looking at me that way?\\n\\n\\\"You loved your brothers, much as I love Jaime.\\\"\\n\\nIs this some Lannister trap to make me speak treason? \\\"My brothers were traitors, and they've gone to traitors\\\" graves. It is treason to love a traitor.\\\"\\n\\nHer little husband snorted. \\\"Robb rose in arms against his rightful king. Bylaw, that made him a traitor. The others died too young to know what treason was.\\\" He rubbed his nose. \\\"Sansa, do you know what happened to Bran at Winterfell?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Bran fell. He was always climbing things, and finally he fell. We always feared he would. And Theon Greyjoy killed him, but that was later.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Theon Greyjoy.\\\" Tyrion sighed. \\\"Your lady mother once accused me... well, I will not burden you with the ugly details. She accused me falsely. I never harmed your brother Bran. And I mean no harm to you.\\\"\\n\\nWhat does he want me to say? \\\"That is good to know, my lord.\\\" He wanted something from her, but Sansa did not know what it was. He looks like a starving child, but I have no food to give him. Why won't he leave me be?\\n\\nTyrion rubbed at his scarred, scabby nose yet again, an ugly habit that drew the eye to his ugly face. \\\"You have never asked me how Robb died, or your lady mother.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I... would sooner not know. It would give me bad dreams.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then I will say no more.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That... that's kind of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, yes,\\\" said Tyrion. \\\"I am the very soul of kindness. And I know about bad dreams.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"TYRION\\n\\nThe new crown that his father had given the Faith stood twice as tall as the one the mob had smashed, a glory of crystal and spun gold. Rainbow light flashed and shimmered every time the High Septon moved his head, but Tyrion had to wonder how the man could bear the weight. And even he had to concede that Joffrey and Margaery made a regal couple, as they stood side-by-side between the towering gilded statues of the Father and the Mother.\\n\\nThe bride was lovely in ivory silk and Myrish lace, her skirts decorated with floral patterns picked out in seed pearls. As Renly's widow, she might have worn the Baratheon colors, gold and black, yet she came to them a Tyrell, in a maiden's cloak made of a hundred cloth-of-gold roses sewn to green velvet. He wondered if she really was a maiden. Not that Joffrey is like to know the difference.\\n\\nThe king looked near as splendid as his bride, in his doublet of dusky rose, beneath a cloak of deep crimson velvet blazoned with his stag and lion. The crown rested easily on his curls, gold on gold. I saved that bloody crown for him. Tyrion shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He could not standstill. Too much wine. He should have thought to relieve himself before they set out from the Red Keep. The sleepless night he'd spent with Shae was making itself felt too, but most of all he wanted to strangle his bloody royal nephew.\\n\\nI am no stranger to Valyrian steel, the boy had boasted. The septons were always going on about how the Father Above judges us all. If the Father would be so good as to topple over and crush Joff like a dung beetle, I might even believe it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He ought to have seen it long ago.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jaime would never send another man to do his killing, and Cersei was too cunning to use a knife that could be traced back to her, but Joff, arrogant vicious stupid little wretch that he was...\\n\\nHe remembered a cold morning when he'd climbed down the steep exterior steps from Winterfell's library to find Prince Joffrey jesting with the Hound about killing wolves. Send a dog to kill a wolf, he said. Even Joffrey was not so foolish as to command Sandor Clegane to slay a son of Eddard Stark, however; the Hound would have gone to Cersei. Instead the boy found his catspaw among the unsavory lot of freeriders, merchants, and camp followers who'd attached themselves to the king's party as they made their way north. Some poxy lackwit willing to risk his life fora prince's favor and a little coin. Tyrion wondered whose idea it had been to wait until Robert left Winterfell before opening Bran's throat. Joff's, most like. No doubt he thought it was the height of cunning.\\n\\nThe prince's own dagger had a jeweled pommel and inlaid goldwork on the blade, Tyrion seemed to recall. At least Joff had not been stupid enough to use that. Instead he went poking among his father's weapons. Robert Baratheon was a man of careless generosity, and would have given his son any dagger he wanted... but Tyrion guessed that the boy had just taken it. Robert had come to Winterfell with along tail of knights and retainers, a huge wheelhouse, and a baggage train. No doubt some diligent servant had made certain that the king's weapons went with him, in case he should desire any of them.\\n\\nThe blade Joff chose was nice and plain. No goldwork, no jewels in the hilt, no silver inlay on the blade. King Robert never wore it, had likely forgotten he owned it. Yet the Valyrian steel was deadly sharp... sharp enough to slice through skin, flesh, and muscle in one quick stroke. I am no stranger to Valyrian steel. But he had been, hadn't he? Else he would never have been so foolish as to pick Littlefinger's knife.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The why of it still eluded him. Simple cruelty, perhaps? His nephew had that in abundance. It was all Tyrion could do not to retch up all the wine he'd drunk, piss in his breeches, or both. He squirmed uncomfortably. He ought to have held his tongue at breakfast. The boy knows I know now. My bigmouth will be the death of me, I swear it.\\n\\nThe seven vows were made, the seven blessings invoked, and the seven promises exchanged. When the wedding song had been sung and the challenge had gone unanswered, it was time for the exchange of cloaks. Tyrion shifted his weight from one stunted leg to the other, trying to see between his father and his uncle Kevan. If the gods are just, Joff will make a hash of this. He made certain not to look at Sansa, lest his bitterness show in his eyes. You might have knelt, damn you. Would it have been so bloody hard to bend those stiff Stark knees of yours and let me keep a little dignity?\\n\\nMace Tyrell removed his daughter's maiden cloak tenderly, while Joffrey accepted the folded bride's cloak from his brother Tommen and shook it outwith a flourish. The boy king was as tall at thirteen as his bride was at sixteen; he would not require a fool's back to climb upon. He draped Margaery in the crimson-and-gold and leaned close to fasten it at her throat. And that easily she passed from her father's protection to her husband's. But who will protect her from Joff? Tyrion glanced at the Knight of Flowers, standing with the other Kingsguard. You had best keep your sword well honed, Ser Loras.\\n\\n\\\"With this kiss I pledge my love!\\\" Joffrey declared in ringing tones. When Margaery echoed the words he pulled her close and kissed her long and deep. Rainbow lights danced once more about the High Septon's crown as he solemnly declared Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister and Margaery of House Tyrell to be one flesh, one heart, one soul.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Good, that's done with. Now let's get back to the bloody castle so I can have a piss.\\n\\nSer Loras and Ser Meryn led the procession from the sept in their white scale armor and snowy cloaks. Then came Prince Tommen, scattering rose petals from a basket before the king and queen. After the royal couple followed Queen Cersei and Lord Tyrell, then the bride's mother arm-in-arm with Lord Tywin. The Queen of Thorns tottered after them with one hand on Ser Kevan Lannister's arm and the other on her cane, her twin guardsmen close behind her in case she fell. Next came Ser Garlan Tyrell and his lady wife, and finally it was their turn.\\n\\n\\\"My lady.\\\" Tyrion offered Sansa his arm. She took it dutifully, but he could feel her stiffness as they walked up the aisle together. She never once looked down at him.\\n\\nHe heard them cheering outside even before he reached the doors. The mob loved Margaery so much they were even willing to love Joffrey again. She had belonged to Renly, the handsome young prince who had loved them so well he had comeback from beyond the grave to save them. And the bounty of Highgarden had come with her, flowing up the roseroad from the south. The fools didn't seem to remember that it had been Mace Tyrell who closed the roseroad to begin with, and made the bloody famine.\\n\\nThey stepped out into the crisp autumn air. \\\"I feared we'd never escape,\\\" Tyrion quipped.\\n\\nSansa had no choice but to look at him then. \\\"I... yes, my lord. As you say.\\\" She looked sad. \\\"It was such a beautiful ceremony, though.\\\"\\n\\nAs ours was not. \\\"It was long, I'll say that much. I need to return to the castle fora good piss.\\\" Tyrion rubbed the stump of his nose. \\\"Would that I'd contrived some mission to take me out of the city. Littlefinger was the clever one.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Joffrey and Margaery stood surrounded by Kingsguard atop the steps that fronted on the broad marble plaza.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Addam and his gold cloaks held back the crowd, while the statue of King Baelor the Blessed gazed down on them benevolently. Tyrion had no choice but to queue up with the rest to offer congratulations. He kissed Margaery's fingers and wished her every happiness. Thankfully, there were others behind them waiting their turn, so they did not need to linger long.\\n\\nTheir litter had been sitting in the sun, and it was very warm inside the curtains. As they lurched into motion, Tyrion reclined on an elbow while Sansa sat staring at her hands. She is just as comely as the Tyrell girl. Her hair was a rich autumn auburn, her eyes a deep Tully blue. Grief had given her a haunted, vulnerable look; if anything, it had only made her more beautiful. He wanted to reach her, to breakthrough the armor of her courtesy. Was that what made him speak? Or just the need to distract himself from the fullness in his bladder?\\n\\n\\\"I had been thinking that when the roads are safe again, we might journey to Casterly Rock.\\\" Far from Joffrey and my sister. The more he thought about what Joff had done to Lives of Four Kings, the more it troubled him. There was a message there, oh yes. \\\"It would please me to show you the Golden Gallery and the Lion's Mouth, and the Hall of Heroes where Jaime and I played as boys. You can hear thunder from below where the sea comes in...\\\"\\n\\nShe raised her head slowly. He knew what she was seeing; the swollen brutish brow, the raw stump of his nose, his crooked pink scar and mismatched eyes. Her own eyes were big and blue and empty. \\\"I shall go wherever my lord husband wishes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I had hoped it might please you, my lady.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It will please me to please my lord.\\\"\\n\\nHis mouth tightened. What apathetic little man you are. Did you think babbling about the Lion's Mouth would make her smile? When have you ever made a woman smile but with gold? \\\"No, it was a foolish notion. Only a Lannister can love the Rock.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, my lord. As you wish.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion could hear the commons shouting out King Joffrey's name. In three years that cruel boy will be a man, ruling in his own right... and every dwarf with half his wits will be along way from King's Landing. Oldtown, perhaps. Or even the Free Cities. He had always had a yen to seethe Titan of Braavos. Perhaps that would please Sansa. Gently, he spoke of Braavos, and meta wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he had walked once in the north. It made him weary. Then and now.\\n\\nThey passed the rest of the journey in silence. After awhile, Tyrion found himself hoping that Sansa would say something, anything, the merest word, but she never spoke. When the litter halted in the castle yard, he let one of the grooms help her down. \\\"We will be expected at the feast an hour hence, my lady. I will join you shortly.\\\" He walked off stiff-legged. Across the yard, he could hear Margaery's breathless laugh as Joffrey swept her from the saddle. The boy will be as tall and strong as Jaime one day, he thought, and I'll still be a dwarf beneath his feet. And one day he's like to make me even shorter...\\n\\nHe found a privy and sighed gratefully as he relieved himself of the morning's wine. There were times when a piss felt near as good as a woman, and this was one. He wished he could relieve himself of his doubts and guilts half as easily.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Podrick Payne was waiting outside his chambers.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I laid out your new doublet. Not here. On your bed. In the bedchamber.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, that's where we keep the bed.\\\" Sansa would be in there, dressing for the feast. Shae as well. \\\"Wine, Pod.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion drank it in his window seat, brooding over the chaos of the kitchens below. The sun had not yet touched the top of the castle wall, but he could smell breads baking and meats roasting. The guests would soon be pouring into the throne room, full of anticipation; this would bean evening of song and splendor, designed not only to unite Highgarden and Casterly Rock but to trumpet their power and wealth as a lesson to any who might still think to oppose Joffrey's rule.\\n\\nBut who would be mad enough to contest Joffrey's rule now, after what had befallen Stannis Baratheon and Robb Stark? There was still fighting in the riverlands, but everywhere the coils were tightening. Ser Gregor Clegane had crossed the Trident and seized the ruby ford, then captured Harrenhal almost effortlessly. Seagard had yielded to Black Walder Frey, Lord Randyll Tarly held Maidenpool, Duskendale, and the kingsroad. In the west, Ser Daven Lannister had linked up with Ser Forley Prester at the Golden Tooth fora march on Riverrun. Ser Ryman Frey was leading two thousand spears down from the Twins to join them. And Paxter Redwyne claimed his fleet would soon set sail from the Arbor, to begin the long voyage around Dorne and through the Stepstones. Stannis's Lyseni pirates would be outnumbered ten to one. The struggle that the maesters were calling the War of the Five Kings was all but at an end. Mace Tyrell had been heard complaining that Lord Tywin had left no victories for him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"My lord?\\\" Pod was at his side. \\\"Will you be changing? I laid out the doublet. On your bed. For the feast.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Feast?\\\" said Tyrion sourly. \\\"What feast?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The wedding feast.\\\" Pod missed the sarcasm, of course. \\\"King Joffrey and Lady Margaery. Queen Margaery, I mean.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion resolved to get very, very drunk tonight. \\\"Very well, young Podrick, let us go make me festive.\\\"\\n\\nShae was helping Sansa with her hair when they entered the bedchamber. Joy and grief, he thought when he beheld them there together. Laughter and tears. Sansa wore a gown of silvery satin trimmed in vair, with dagged sleeves that almost touched the floor, lined in soft purple felt. Shae had arranged her hair artfully in a delicate silver net winking with dark purple gemstones. Tyrion had never seen her look more lovely, yet she wore sorrow on those long satin sleeves. \\\"Lady Sansa,\\\" he told her, \\\"you shall be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My lord is too kind.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My lady,\\\" said Shae wistfully. \\\"Couldn't I come serve at table? I so want to seethe pigeons fly out of the pie.\\\"\\n\\nSansa looked at her uncertainly. \\\"The queen has chosen all the servers.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And the hall will be too crowded.\\\" Tyrion had to bite back his annoyance. \\\"There will be musicians strolling all through the castle, though, and tables in the outer ward with food and drink for all.\\\" He inspected his new doublet, crimson velvet with padded shoulders and puffed sleeves slashed to show the black satin underlining. A handsome garment. All it wants is a handsome man to wear it. \\\"Come, Pod, help me into this.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He had another cup of wine as he dressed, then took his wife by the arm and escorted her from the Kitchen Keep to join the river of silk, satin, and velvet flowing toward the throne room. Some guests had gone inside to find their places on the benches. Others were milling in front of the doors, enjoying the unseasonable warmth of the afternoon. Tyrion led Sansa around the yard, to perform the necessary courtesies.\\n\\nShe is good at this, he thought, as he watched her tell Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding better, compliment Elinor Tyrell on her gown, and question Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in the Summer Isles. His cousin Ser Lancel had been brought down by Ser Kevan, the first time he'd left his sickbed since the battle. He looks ghastly. Lancel's hair had turned white and brittle, and he was thin as a stick. Without his father beside him holding him up, he would surely have collapsed. Yet when Sansa praised his valor and said how good it was to see him getting strong again, both Lancel and Ser Kevan beamed. She would have made Joffrey a good queen and a better wife if he'd had the sense to love her. He wondered if his nephew was capable of loving anyone.\\n\\n\\\"You do look quite exquisite, child,\\\" Lady Olenna Tyrell told Sansa when she tottered up to them in a cloth-of-gold gown that must have weighed more than she did. \\\"The wind has been at your hair, though.\\\" The little old woman reached up and fussed at the loose strands, tucking them back into place and straightening Sansa's hairnet. \\\"I was very sorry to hear about your losses,\\\" she said as she tugged and fiddled. \\\"Your brother was a terrible traitor, I know, but if we start killing men at weddings they'll be even more frightened of marriage than they are presently. There, that's better.\\\" Lady Olenna smiled. \\\"I am pleased to say I shall be leaving for Highgarden the day after next. I have had quite enough of this smelly city, thank you. Perhaps you would like to accompany me fora little visit, whilst the men are off having their war? I shall miss my Margaery so dreadfully, and all her lovely ladies. Your company would be such sweet solace.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You are too kind, my lady,\\\" said Sansa, \\\"but my place is with my lord husband.\\\"\\n\\nLady Olenna gave Tyrion a wrinkled, toothless smile. \\\"Oh? Forgive a silly old woman, my lord, I did not mean to steal your lovely wife. I assumed you would be off leading a Lannister host against some wicked foe.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A host of dragons and stags. The master of coin must remain at court to see that all the armies are paid for.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To be sure. Dragons and stags, that's very clever. And dwarf's pennies as well. I have heard of these dwarf's pennies. No doubt collecting those is such a dreadful chore.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I leave the collecting to others, my lady.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, do you? I would have thought you might want to tend to it yourself. We can't have the crown being cheated of its dwarf's pennies, now. Can we?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gods forbid.\\\" Tyrion was beginning to wonder whether Lord Luthor Tyrell had ridden off that cliff intentionally. \\\"If you will excuse us, Lady Olenna, it is time we were in our places.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Myself as well. Seventy-seven courses, I daresay. Don't you find that a bit excessive, my lord? I shan't eat more than three or four bites myself, but you and I are very little, aren't we?\\\" She patted Sansa's hair again and said, \\\"Well, off with you, child, and try to be merrier. Now where have my guardsmen gone? Left, Right, where are you? Come help me to the dais.\\\"\\n\\nAlthough evenfall was still an hour away, the throne room was already ablaze of light, with torches burning in every sconce. The guests stood along the tables as heralds called out the names and titles of the lords and ladies making their entrance. Pages in the royal livery escorted them down the broad central aisle. The gallery above was packed with musicians; drummers and pipers and fiddlers, strings and horns and skins.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Tyrion clutched Sansa's arm and made the walk with a heavy waddling stride.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He could feel their eyes on him, picking at the fresh new scar that had left him even uglier than he had been before. Let them look, he thought as he hopped up onto his seat. Let them stare and whisper until they've had their fill, I will not hide myself for their sake. The Queen of Thorns followed them in, shuffling along with tiny little steps. Tyrion wondered which of them looked more absurd, him with Sansa or the wizened little woman between her seven-foot-tall twin guardsmen.\\n\\nJoffrey and Margaery rode into the throne room on matched white chargers. Pages ran before them, scattering rose petals under their hooves. The king and queen had changed for the feast as well. Joffrey wore striped black-and-crimson breeches and a cloth-of-gold doublet with black satin sleeves and onyx studs. Margaery had exchanged the demure gown that she had worn in the sept for one much more revealing, a confection in pale green samite with a tight-laced bodice that bared her shoulders and the tops of her small breasts. Unbound, her soft brown hair tumbled over her white shoulders and down her back almost to her waist. Around her brows was a slim golden crown. Her smile was shy and sweet. A lovely girl, thought Tyrion, and a kinder fate than my nephew deserves.\\n\\nThe Kingsguard escorted them onto the dais, to the seats of honor beneath the shadow of the Iron Throne, draped for the occasion in long silk streamers of Baratheon gold, Lannister crimson, and Tyrell green. Cersei embraced Margaery and kissed her cheeks. Lord Tywin did the same, and then Lancel and Ser Kevan. Joffrey received loving kisses from the bride's father and his two new brothers, Loras and Garlan. No one seemed in any great rush to kiss Tyrion. When the king and queen had taken their seats, the High Septon rose to lead a prayer. At least he does not drone as badly as the last one, Tyrion consoled himself.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He and Sansa had been seated far to the king's right, beside Ser Garlan Tyrell and his wife, the Lady Leonette. A dozen others sat closer to Joffrey, which a pricklier man might have taken fora slight, given that he had been the King's Hand only a short time past. Tyrion would have been glad if there had been a hundred.\\n\\n\\\"Let the cups be filled!\\\" Joffrey proclaimed, when the gods had been given their due. His cupbearer poured a whole flagon of dark Arbor red into the golden wedding chalice that Lord Tyrell had given him that morning. The king had to use both hands to lift it. \\\"To my wife the queen!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Margaery!\\\" the hall shouted back at him. \\\"Margaery! Margaery! To the queen!\\\" A thousand cups rang together, and the wedding feast was well and truly begun. Tyrion Lannister drank with the rest, emptying his cup on that first toast and signaling for it to be refilled as soon as he was seated again.\\n\\nThe first dish was a creamy soup of mushrooms and buttered snails, served in gilded bowls. Tyrion had scarcely touched the breakfast, and the wine had already gone to his head, so the food was welcome. He finished quickly. One done, seventy-six to come. Seventy-seven dishes, while there are still starving children in this city, and men who would kill fora radish. They might not love the Tyrells half so well if they could see us now.\\n\\nSansa tasted a spoonful of soup and pushed the bowl away. \\\"Not to your liking, my lady?\\\" Tyrion asked.\\n\\n\\\"There's to be so much, my lord. I have a little tummy.\\\" She fiddled nervously with her hair and looked down the table to where Joffrey sat with his Tyrell queen.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Does she wish it were her in Margaery's place?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tyrion frowned. Even a child should have better sense. He turned away, wanting distraction, but everywhere he looked were women, fair fine beautiful happy women who belonged to other men. Margaery, of course, smiling sweetly as she and Joffrey shared a drink from the great seven-sided wedding chalice. Her mother Lady Alerie, silver-haired and handsome, still proud beside Mace Tyrell. The queen's three young cousins, bright as birds. Lord Merryweather's dark-haired Myrish wife with her big black sultry eyes. Ellaria Sand among the Dornishmen (Cersei had placed them at their own table, just below the dais in a place of high honor but as far from the Tyrells as the width of the hall would allow), laughing at something the Red Viper had told her.\\n\\nAnd there was one woman, sitting almost at the foot of the third table on the left... the wife of one of the Fossoways, he thought, and heavy with his child. Her delicate beauty was in noway diminished by her belly, nor washer pleasure in the food and frolics. Tyrion watched as her husband fed her morsels off his plate. They drank from the same cup, and would kiss often and unpredictably. Whenever they did, his hand would gently rest upon her stomach, a tender and protective gesture.\\n\\nHe wondered what Sansa would do if he leaned over and kissed her right now. Flinch away, most likely. Or be brave and suffer through it, as washer duty. She is nothing if not dutiful, this wife of mine. If he told her that he wished to have her maidenhead tonight, she would suffer that dutifully as well, and weep no more than she had to.\\n\\nHe called for more wine. By the time he got it, the second course was being served, a pstry coffyn filled with pork, pine nuts, and eggs. Sansa ate no more than a bite of hers, as the heralds were summoning the first of the seven singers.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2283,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"In your role as the author's collaborator, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 62"},{"from":"human","value":"Does she wish it were her in Margaery's place?"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tyrion frowned. Even a child should have better sense. He turned away, wanting distraction, but everywhere he looked were women, fair fine beautiful happy women who belonged to other men. Margaery, of course, smiling sweetly as she and Joffrey shared a drink from the great seven-sided wedding chalice. Her mother Lady Alerie, silver-haired and handsome, still proud beside Mace Tyrell. The queen's three young cousins, bright as birds. Lord Merryweather's dark-haired Myrish wife with her big black sultry eyes. Ellaria Sand among the Dornishmen (Cersei had placed them at their own table, just below the dais in a place of high honor but as far from the Tyrells as the width of the hall would allow), laughing at something the Red Viper had told her.\n\nAnd there was one woman, sitting almost at the foot of the third table on the left... the wife of one of the Fossoways, he thought, and heavy with his child. Her delicate beauty was in noway diminished by her belly, nor washer pleasure in the food and frolics. Tyrion watched as her husband fed her morsels off his plate. They drank from the same cup, and would kiss often and unpredictably. Whenever they did, his hand would gently rest upon her stomach, a tender and protective gesture.\n\nHe wondered what Sansa would do if he leaned over and kissed her right now. Flinch away, most likely. Or be brave and suffer through it, as washer duty. She is nothing if not dutiful, this wife of mine. If he told her that he wished to have her maidenhead tonight, she would suffer that dutifully as well, and weep no more than she had to.\n\nHe called for more wine. By the time he got it, the second course was being served, a pstry coffyn filled with pork, pine nuts, and eggs. Sansa ate no more than a bite of hers, as the heralds were summoning the first of the seven singers."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Grey-bearded Hamish the Harper announced that he would perform'for the ears of gods and men, a song ne'er heard before in all the Seven Kingdoms.\" He called it'Lord Renly's Ride.\"\n\nHis fingers moved across the strings of the high harp, filling the throne room with sweet sound. \"From his throne of bones the Lord of Death looked down on the murdered lord,\" Hamish began, and went onto tell how Renly, repenting his attempt to usurp his nephew's crown, had defied the Lord of Death himself and crossed back to the land of the living to defend the realm against his brother.\n\nAnd for this poor Symon wound up in a bowl of brown, Tyrion mused. Queen Margaery was teary-eyed by the end, when the shade of brave Lord Renly flew to Highgarden to steal one last look at his truelove's face. \"Renly Baratheon never repented of anything in his life,\" the Imp told Sansa, \"but if I'm any judge, Hamish just won himself a gilded lute.\"\n\nThe Harper also gave them several more familiar songs. \"A Rose of Gold\" was for the Tyrells, no doubt, as'The Rains of Castamere\" was meant to flatter his father. \"Maiden, Mother, and Crone\" delighted the High Septon, and'My Lady Wife\" pleased all the little girls with romance in their hearts, and no doubt some little boys as well. Tyrion listened with half a ear, as he sampled sweetcorn fritters and hot oatbread baked with bits of date, apple, and orange, and gnawed on the rib of a wild boar.\n\nThereafter dishes and diversions succeeded one another in a staggering profusion, buoyed along upon a flood of wine and ale. Hamish left them, his place taken by a smallish elderly bear who danced clumsily to pipe and drum while the wedding guests ate trout cooked in a crust of crushed almonds. Moon Boy mounted his stilts and strode around the tables in pursuit of Lord Tyrell's ludicrously fat fool Butterbumps, and the lords and ladies sampled roast herons and cheese-and-onion pies. A troupe of Pentoshi tumblers performed cartwheels and handstands, balanced platters on their bare feet, and stood upon each other's shoulders to form a pyramid. Their feats were accompanied by crabs boiled in fiery eastern spices, trenchers filled with chunks of chopped mutton stewed in almond milk with carrots, raisins, and onions, and fish tarts fresh from the ovens, served so hot they burned the fingers."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then the heralds summoned another singer; Collio Quaynis of Tyrosh, who had a vermilion beard and an accent as ludicrous as Symon had promised. Collio began with his version of'The Dance of the Dragons,\" which was more properly a song for two singers, male and female. Tyrion suffered through it with a double helping of honey-ginger partridge and several cups of wine. A haunting ballad of two dying lovers amidst the Doom of Valyria might have pleased the hall more if Collio had not sung it in High Valyrian, which most of the guests could not speak. But'Bessa the Barmaid\" won them back with its ribald lyrics. Peacocks were served in their plumage, roasted whole and stuffed with dates, while Collio summoned a drummer, bowed low before Lord Tywin, and launched into'The Rains of Castamere.\"\n\nIf I have to hear seven versions of that, I may go down to Flea Bottom and apologize to the stew. Tyrion turned to his wife. \"So which did you prefer?\"\n\nSansa blinked at him. \"My lord?\"\n\n\"The singers. Which did you prefer?\"\n\n\"I... I'm sorry, my lord. I was not listening.\"\n\nShe was not eating, either. \"Sansa, is aught amiss?\" He spoke without thinking, and instantly felt the fool. All her kin are slaughtered and she's wed tome, and I wonder what's amiss.\n\n\"No, my lord.\" She looked away from him, and feigned an unconvincing interest in Moon Boy pelting Ser Dontos with dates.\n\nFour master pyromancers conjured up beasts of living flame to tear at each other with fiery claws whilst the serving men ladeled out bowls of blandissory, a mixture of beef broth and boiled wine sweetened with honey and dotted with blanched almonds and chunks of capon. Then came some strolling pipers and clever dogs and sword swallowers, with buttered pease, chopped nuts, and slivers of swan poached in a sauce of saffron and peaches. (\"Not swan again,\" Tyrion muttered, remembering his supper with his sister on the eve of battle.) A juggler kept a half-dozen swords and axes whirling through the air as skewers of blood sausage were brought sizzling to the tables, a juxtaposition that Tyrion thought passing clever, though not perhaps in the best of taste."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The heralds blew their trumpets. \"To sing for the golden lute,\" one cried, \"we give you Galyeon of Cuy.\"\n\nGalyeon was a big barrel-chested man with a black beard, a bald head, and a thunderous voice that filled every corner of the throne room. He brought no fewer than six musicians to play for him. \"Noble lords and ladies fair, I sing but one song for you this night,\" he announced. \"It is the song of the Blackwater, and how a realm was saved.\" The drummer began a slow ominous beat.\n\n\"The dark lord brooded high in his tower,\" Galyeon began, \"in a castle as black as the night.\"\n\n\"Black was his hair and black was his soul,\" the musicians chanted in unison. A flute came in.\n\n\"He feasted on bloodlust and envy, and filled his cup full up with spite,\" sang Galyeon. \"My brother once ruled seven kingdoms, he said to his harridan wife. I'll take what was his and make it all mine. Let his son feel the point of my knife.\"\n\n\"A brave young boy with hair of gold,\" his players chanted, as a woodharp and a fiddle began to play.\n\n\"If I am ever Hand again, the first thing I'll do is hang all the singers,\" said Tyrion, too loudly.\n\nLady Leonette laughed lightly beside him, and Ser Garlan leaned over to say, \"A valiant deed unsung is no less valiant.\"\n\n\"The dark lord assembled his legions, they gathered around him like crows. And thirsty for blood they boarded their ships...\"\n\n\"... and cutoff poor Tyrion's nose,\" Tyrion finished."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Lady Leonette giggled. \"Perhaps you should be a singer, my lord. You rhyme as well as this Galyeon.\"\n\n\"No, my lady,\" Ser Garlan said. \"My lord of Lannister was made to do great deeds, not to sing of them. But for his chain and his wildfire, the foe would have been across the river. And if Tyrion's wildlings had not slain most of Lord Stannis's scouts, we would never have been able to take him unawares.\"\n\nHis words made Tyrion feel absurdly grateful, and helped to mollify him as Galyeon sang endless verses about the valor of the boy king and his mother, the golden queen.\n\n\"She never did that,\" Sansa blurted out suddenly.\n\n\"Never believe anything you hear in a song, my lady.\" Tyrion summoned a serving man to refill their wine cups.\n\nSoon it was full night outside the tall windows, and still Galyeon sang on. His song had seventy-seven verses, though it seemed more like a thousand. One for every guest in the hall. Tyrion drank his way through the last twenty or so, to help resist the urge to stuff mushrooms in his ears. By the time the singer had taken his bows, some of the guests were drunk enough to begin providing unintentional entertainments of their own. Grand Maester Pycelle fell asleep while dancers from the Summer Isles swirled and spun in robes made of bright feathers and smoky silk. Roundels of elk stuffed with ripe blue cheese were being brought out when one of Lord Rowan's knights stabbed a Dornishman. The gold cloaks dragged them both away, one to a cell to rot and the other to get sewn up by Maester Ballabar.\n\nTyrion was toying with a leche of brawn, spiced with cinnamon, cloves, sugar, and almond milk, when King Joffrey lurched suddenly to his feet. \"Bring on my royal jousters!\" he shouted in a voice thick with wine, clapping his hands together."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"My nephew is drunker than I am, Tyrion thought as the gold cloaks opened the great doors at the end of the hall. From where he sat, he could only seethe tops of two striped lances as a pair of riders entered side by side. A wave of laughter followed them down the center aisle toward the king. They must be riding ponies, he concluded... until they came into full view.\n\nThe jousters were a pair of dwarfs. One was mounted on an ugly grey dog, long of leg and heavy of jaw. The other rode an immense spotted sow. Painted wooden armor clattered and clacked as the little knights bounced up and down in their saddles. Their shields were bigger than they were, and they wrestled manfully with their lances as they clomped along, swaying this way and that and eliciting gusts of mirth. One knight was all in gold, with a black stag painted on his shield; the other wore grey and white, and bore a wolf device. Their mounts were barded likewise.\n\nTyrion glanced along the dais at all the laughing faces. Joffrey was red and breathless, Tommen was hooting and hopping up and down in his seat, Cersei was chuckling politely, and even Lord Tywin looked mildly amused. Of all those at the high table, only Sansa Stark was not smiling. He could have loved her for that, but if truth be told the Stark girl's eyes were faraway, as if she had not even seen the ludicrous riders loping toward her.\n\nThe dwarfs are not to blame, Tyrion decided. When they are done, I shall compliment them and give them a fat purse of silver. And come the morrow, I will find whoever planned this little diversion and arrange fora different sort of thanks."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When the dwarfs reined up beneath the dais to salute the king, the wolf knight dropped his shield. Ashe leaned over to grab for it, the stag knight lost control of his heavy lance and slammed him across the back. The wolf knight fell off his pig, and his lance tumbled over and boinked his foe on the head. They both wound upon the floor in a great tangle. When they rose, both tried to mount the dog. Much shouting and shoving followed. Finally they regained their saddles, only mounted on each other's steed, holding the wrong shield and facing backward.\n\nIt took sometime to sort that out, but in the end they spurred to opposite ends of the hall, and wheeled about for the tilt. As the lords and ladies guffawed and giggled, the little men came together with a crash and a clatter, and the wolf knight's lance struck the helm of the stag knight and knocked his head clean off. It spun through the air spattering blood to land in the lap of Lord Gyles. The headless dwarf careened around the tables, flailing his arms. Dogs barked, women shrieked, and Moon Boy made a great show of swaying perilously back and forth on his stilts, until Lord Gyles pulled a dripping red melon out of the shattered helm, at which point the stag knight poked his face up out of his armor, and another storm of laughter rocked the hall. The knights waited for it to die, circled around each other trading colorful insults, and were about to separate for another joust when the dog threw its rider to the floor and mounted the sow. The huge pig squealed in distress, while the wedding guests squealed with laughter, especially when the stag knight leapt onto the wolf knight, letdown his wooden breeches, and started to pump away frantically at the other's nether portions."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I yield, I yield,\" the dwarf on the bottom screamed. \"Good ser, put up your sword!\"\n\n\"I would, I would, if you'll stop moving the sheath!\" the dwarf on the top replied, to the merriment of all.\n\nJoffrey was snorting wine from both nostrils. Gasping, he lurched to his feet, almost knocking over his tall two-handed chalice. \"A champion,\" he shouted. \"We have a champion!\" The hall began to quiet when it was seen that the king was speaking. The dwarfs untangled, no doubt anticipating the royal thanks. \"Not a true champion, though,\" said Joff. \"A true champion defeats all challengers.\" The king climbed upon the table. \"Who else will challenge our tiny champion?\" With a gleeful smile, he turned toward Tyrion. \"Uncle! You'll defend the honor of my realm, won't you? You can ride the pig!\"\n\nThe laughter crashed over him like a wave. Tyrion Lannister did not remember rising, nor climbing on his chair, but he found himself standing on the table. The hall was a torchlit blur of leering faces. He twisted his face into the most hideous mockery of a smile the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen. \"Your Grace,\" he called, \"I'll ride the pig... but only if you ride the dog!\"\n\nJoff scowled, confused. \"Me? I'm no dwarf. Why me?\"\n\nStepped right into the cut, Joff. \"Why, you're the only man in the hall that I'm certain of defeating!\"\n\nHe could not have said which was sweeter; the instant of shocked silence, the gale of laughter that followed, or the look of blind rage on his nephew's face. The dwarf hopped back to the floor well satisfied, and by the time he looked back Ser Osmund and Ser Meryn were helping Joff climb down as well. When he noticed Cersei glaring at him, Tyrion blew her a kiss."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was a relief when the musícians began to play. The tiny jousters led dog and sow from the hall, the guests returned to their trenchers of brawn, and Tyrion called for another cup of wine. But suddenly he felt Ser Garlan's hand on his sleeve. \"My lord, beware,\" the knight warned. \"The king.\"\n\nTyrion turned in his seat. Joffrey was almost upon him, red-faced and staggering, wine slopping over the rim of the great golden wedding chalice he carried in both hands. \"Your Grace,\" was all he had time to say before the king upended the chalice over his head. The wine washed down over his face in a red torrent. It drenched his hair, stung his eyes, burned in his wound, ran down his cheeks, and soaked the velvet of his new doublet. \"How do you like that, Imp?\" Joffrey mocked.\n\nTyrion's eyes were on fire. He dabbed at his face with the back of a sleeve and tried to blink the world back into clarity. \"That was ill done, Your Grace,\" he heard Ser Garlan say quietly.\n\n\"Not at all, Ser Garlan.\" Tyrion dare not let this grow any uglier than it was, not here, with half the realm looking on. \"Not every king would think to honor a humble subject by serving him from his own royal chalice. A pity the wine spilled.\"\n\n\"It didn't spill,\" said Joffrey, too graceless to take the retreat Tyrion offered him. \"And I wasn't serving you, either.\"\n\nQueen Margaery appeared suddenly at Joffrey's elbow. \"My sweet king,\" the Tyrell girl entreated, \"come, return to your place, there's another singer waiting.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Alaric of Eysen,\" said Lady Olenna Tyrell, leaning on her cane and taking no more notice of the wine-soaked dwarf than her granddaughter had done. \"I do so hope he plays us \"The Rains of Castamere.\" It has been an hour, I've forgotten how it goes.\"\n\n\"Ser Addam has a toast he wants to make as well,\" said Margaery. \"Your Grace, please.\"\n\n\"I have no wine,\" Joffrey declared. \"How can I drink a toast if I have no wine? Uncle Imp, you can serve me. Since you won't joust you'll be my cupbearer.\"\n\n\"I would be most honored.\"\n\n\"It's not meant to bean honor!\" Joffrey screamed. \"Bend down and pickup my chalice.\" Tyrion did as he was bid, but as he reached for the handle Joff kicked the chalice through his legs. \"Pick it up! Are you as clumsy as you are ugly?\" He had to crawl under the table to find the thing. \"Good, now fill it with wine.\" He claimed a flagon from a serving girl and filled the goblet three-quarters full. \"No, on your knees, dwarf.\" Kneeling, Tyrion raised up the heavy cup, wondering if he was about to get a second bath. But Joffrey took the wedding chalice one-handed, drank deep, and set it on the table. \"You can getup now, Uncle.\"\n\nHis legs cramped as he tried to rise, and almost spilled him again. Tyrion had to grab hold of a chair to steady himself. Ser Garlan lent him a hand. Joffrey laughed, and Cersei as well. Then others. He could not see who, but he heard them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Your Grace.\" Lord Tywin's voice was impeccably correct. \"They are bringing in the pie. Your sword is needed.\"\n\n\"The pie?\" Joffrey took his queen by the hand. \"Come, my lady, it's the pie.\"\n\nThe guests stood, shouting and applauding and smashing their wine cups together as the great pie made its slow way down the length of the hall, wheeled along by a half-dozen beaming cooks. Two yards across it was, crusty and golden brown, and they could hear squeaks and thumpings coming from inside it.\n\nTyrion pulled himself back into his chair. All he needed now was fora dove to shit on him and his day would be complete. The wine had soaked through his doublet and smallclothes, and he could feel the wetness against his skin. He ought to change, but no one was permitted to leave the feast until the time came for the bedding ceremony. That was still a good twenty or thirty dishes off, he judged.\n\nKing Joffrey and his queen met the pie below the dais. As Joff drew his sword, Margaery laid a hand on his arm to restrain him. \"Widow's Wail was not meant for slicing pies.\"\n\n\"True.\" Joffrey lifted his voice. \"Ser Ilyn, your sword!\"\n\nFrom the shadows at the back of the hall, Ser Ilyn Payne appeared. The specter at the feast, thought Tyrion as he watched the King's Justice stride forward, gaunt and grim. He had been too young to have known Ser Ilyn before he'd lost his tongue. He would have been a different man in those days, but now the silence is as much apart of him as those hollow eyes, that rusty chainmail shirt, and the greatsword on his back."},{"from":"human","value":"Ser Ilyn bowed before the king and queen, reached back over his shoulder, and drew forth six feet of ornate silver bright with runes."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He knelt to offer the huge blade to Joffrey, hilt first; points of red fire winked from ruby eyes on the pommel, a chunk of dragonglass carved in the shape of a grinning skull.\n\nSansa stirred in her seat. \"What sword is that?\"\n\nTyrion's eyes still stung from the wine. He blinked and looked again. Ser Ilyn's greatsword was as long and wide as Ice, but it was too silvery-bright; Valyrian steel had a darkness to it, a smokiness in its soul. Sansa clutched his arm. \"What has Ser Ilyn done with my father's sword?\"\n\nI should have sent Ice back to Robb Stark, Tyrion thought. He glanced at his father, but Lord Tywin was watching the king.\n\nJoffrey and Margaery joined hands to lift the greatsword and swung it down together in a silvery arc. When the piecrust broke, the doves burst forth in a swirl of white feathers, scattering in every direction, flapping for the windows and the rafters. A roar of delight went up from the benches, and the fiddlers and pipers in the gallery began to play a sprightly tune. Joff took his bride in his arms, and whirled her around merrily.\n\nA serving man placed a slice of hot pigeon pie in front of Tyrion and covered it with a spoon of lemon cream. The pigeons were well and truly cooked in this pie, but he found them no more appetizing than the white ones fluttering about the hall. Sansa was not eating either. \"You're deathly pale, my lady,\" Tyrion said. \"You need a breath of cool air, and I need afresh doublet.\" He stood and offered her his hand. \"Come.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But before they could make their retreat, Joffrey was back. \"Uncle, where are you going? You're my cupbearer, remember?\"\n\n\"I need to change into fresh garb, Your Grace. May I have your leave?\"\n\n\"No. I like the look of you this way. Serve me my wine.\"\n\nThe king's chalice was on the table where he'd left it. Tyrion had to climb back onto his chair to reach it. Joff yanked it from his hands and drank long and deep, his throat working as the wine ran purple down his chin. \"My lord,\" Margaery said, \"we should return to our places. Lord Buckler wants to toast us.\"\n\n\"My uncle hasn't eaten his pigeon pie.\" Holding the chalice one-handed, Joff jammed his other into Tyrion's pie. \"It's ill luck not to eat the pie,\" he scolded as he filled his mouth with hot spiced pigeon. \"See, it's good.\" Spitting out flakes of crust, he coughed and helped himself to another fistful. \"Dry, though. Needs washing down.\" Joff took a swallow of wine and coughed again, more violently. \"I want to see, kof, see you ride that, kof kof, pig, Uncle. I want...\" His words broke up in a fit of coughing.\n\nMargaery looked at him with concern. \"Your Grace?\"\n\n\"It's, kof, the pie, noth-kof, pie.\" Joff took another drink, or tried to, but all the wine came spewing back out when another spate of coughing doubled him over. His face was turning red. \"I, kof, I can't, kof kof kof kof...\" The chalice slipped from his hand and dark red wine went running across the dais."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He's choking,\" Queen Margaery gasped.\n\nHer grandmother moved to her side. \"Help the poorboy!\" the Queen of Thorns screeched, in a voice ten times her size. \"Dolts! Will you all stand about gaping? Help your king!\"\n\nSer Garlan shoved Tyrion aside and began to pound Joffrey on the back. Ser Osmund Kettleblack ripped open the king's collar. A fearful high thin sound emerged from the boy's throat, the sound of a man trying to suck a river through a reed; then it stopped, and that was more terrible still. \"Turn him over!\" Mace Tyrell bellowed at everyone and no one. \"Turn him over, shake him by his heels!\" A different voice was calling, \"Water, give him some water!\" The High Septon began to pray loudly. Grand Maester Pycelle shouted for someone to help him back to his chambers, to fetch his potions. Joffrey began to claw at his throat, his nails tearing bloody gouges in the flesh. Beneath the skin, the muscles stood out hard as stone. Prince Tommen was screaming and crying.\n\nHe is going to die, Tyrion realized. He felt curiously calm, though pandemonium raged all about him. They were pounding Joff on the back again, but his face was only growing darker. Dogs were barking, children were wailing, men were shouting useless advice at each other. Half the wedding guests were on their feet, some shoving at each other fora better view, others rushing for the doors in their haste to getaway.\n\nSer Meryn pried the king's mouth open to jam a spoon down his throat. Ashe did, the boy's eyes met Tyrion's. He has Jaime's eyes. Only he had never seen Jaime look so scared. The boy's only thirteen. Joffrey was making a dry clacking noise, trying to speak. His eyes bulged white with terror, and he lifted a hand... reaching for his uncle, or pointing... Is he begging my forgiveness, or does he think I can save him? \"Noooo,\" Cersei wailed, \"Father help him, someone help him, my son, my son...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tyrion found himself thinking of Robb Stark. My own wedding is looking much better in hindsight. He looked to see how Sansa was taking this, but there was so much confusion in the hall that he could not find her. But his eyes fell on the wedding chalice, forgotten on the floor. He went and scooped it up. There was still a half-inch of deep purple wine in the bottom of it. Tyrion considered it a moment, then poured it on the floor.\n\nMargaery Tyrell was weeping in her grandmother's arms as the old lady said, \"Be brave, be brave.\" Most of the musicians had fled, but one last flutist in the gallery was blowing a dirge. In the rear of the throne room scuffling had broken out around the doors, and the guests were trampling on each other. Ser Addam's gold cloaks moved into restore order. Guests were rushing headlong out into the night, some weeping, some stumbling and retching, others white with fear. It occurred to Tyrion belatedly that it might be wise to leave himself.\n\nWhen he heard Cersei's scream, he knew that it was over.\n\nI should leave. Now. Instead he waddled toward her.\n\nHis sister satin a puddle of wine, cradling her son's body. Her gown was torn and stained, her face white as chalk. A thin black dog crept up beside her, sniffing at Joffrey's corpse. \"The boy is gone, Cersei,\" Lord Tywin said. He put his gloved hand on his daughter's shoulder as one of his guardsmen shooed away the dog. \"Unhand him now. Let him go.\" She did not hear. It took two Kingsguard to pry loose her fingers, so the body of King Joffrey Baratheon could slide limp and lifeless to the floor."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The High Septon knelt beside him. \"Father Above, judge our good King Joffrey justly,\" he intoned, beginning the prayer for the dead. Margaery Tyrell began to sob, and Tyrion heard her mother Lady Alerie saying, \"He choked, sweetling. He choked on the pie. It was naught to do with you. He choked. We all saw.\"\n\n\"He did not choke.\" Cersei's voice was sharp as Ser Ilyn's sword. \"My son was poisoned.\" She looked to the white knights standing helplessly around her. \"Kingsguard, do your duty.\"\n\n\"My lady?\" said Ser Loras Tyrell, uncertain.\n\n\"Arrest my brother,\" she commanded him. \"He did this, the dwarf. Him and his little wife. They killed my son. Your king. Take them! Take them both!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"SANSA\n\nFar across the city, a bell began to toll.\n\nSansa felt as though she were in a dream. \"Joffrey is dead,\" she told the trees, to see if that would wake her.\n\nHe had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing. Lady Tanda had been fleeing as well. \"You have a good heart, my lady,\" she said to Sansa. \"Not every maid would weep so fora man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf.\"\n\nA good heart. I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy?\n\nShe found her clothes where she had hidden them, the night before last. With no maids to help her, it took her longer than it should have to undo the laces of her gown. Her hands were strangely clumsy, though she was not as frightened as she ought to have been. \"The gods are cruel to take him so young and handsome, at his own wedding feast,\" Lady Tanda had said to her.\n\nThe gods are just, thought Sansa. Robb had died at a wedding feast as well. It was Robb she wept for. Him and Margaery. Poor Margaery, twice wed and twice widowed. Sansa slid her arm from a sleeve, pushed down the gown, and wriggled out of it. She balled it up and shoved it into the bole of an oak, shook out the clothing she had hidden there. Dress warmly, Ser Dontos had told her, and dress dark. She had no blacks, so she chose a dress of thick brown wool. The bodice was decorated with freshwater pearls, though. The cloak will cover them. The cloak was a deep green, with a large hood. She slipped the dress over her head, and donned the cloak, though she left the hood down for the moment. There were shoes as well, simple and sturdy, with flat heels and square toes. The gods heard my prayer, she thought. She felt so numb and dreamy. My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Her hands moved stiffly, awkwardly, as if they had never letdown her hair before. Fora moment she wished Shae was there, to help her with the net."},{"from":"human","value":"When she pulled it free, her long auburn hair cascaded down her back and across her shoulders."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The web of spun silver hung from her fingers, the fine metal glimmering softly, the stones black in the moonlight. Black amethysts from Asshai. One of them was missing. Sansa lifted the net fora closer look. There was a dark smudge in the silver socket where the stone had fallen out.\n\nA sudden terror filled her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and for an instant she held her breath. Why am I so scared, it's only an amethyst, a black amethyst from Asshai, no more than that. It must have been loose in the setting, that's all. It was loose and it fell out, and now it's lying somewhere in the throne room, or in the yard, unless...\n\nSer Dontos had said the hairnet was magic, that it would take her home. He told her she must wear it tonight at Joffrey's wedding feast. The silver wire stretched tight across her knuckles. Her thumb rubbed back and forth against the hole where the stone had been. She tried to stop, but her fingers were not her own. Her thumb was drawn to the hole as the tongue is drawn to a missing tooth. What kind of magic? The king was dead, the cruel king who had been her gallant prince a thousand years ago. If Dontos had lied about the hairnet, had he lied about the rest as well? What if he never comes? What if there is no ship, no boat on the river, no escape? What would happen to her then?\n\nShe heard a faint rustle of leaves, and stuffed the silver hairnet down deep in the pocket of her cloak. \"Who's there?\" she cried. \"Who is it?\" The godswood was dim and dark, and the bells were ringing Joff into his grave."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Me.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"He staggered out from under the trees, reeling drunk. He caught her arm to steady himself. \"Sweet Jonquil, I've come. Your Florian has come, don't be afraid.\"\n\nSansa pulled away from his touch. \"You said I must wear the hairnet. The silver net with... what sort of stones are those?\"\n\n\"Amethysts. Black amethysts from Asshai, my lady.\"\n\n\"They're no amethysts. Are they? Are they? You lied.\"\n\n\"Black amethysts,\" he swore. \"There was magic in them.\"\n\n\"There was murder in them!\"\n\n\"Softly, my lady, softly. No murder. He choked on his pigeon pie.\" Dontos chortled. \"Oh, tasty tasty pie. Silver and stones, that's all it was, silver and stone and magic.\"\n\nThe bells were tolling, and the wind was making a noise like he had made as he tried to suck a breath of air. \"You poisoned him. You did. You took a stone from my hair...\"\n\n\"Hush, you'll be the death of us. I did nothing. Come, we must away, they'll search for you. Your husband's been arrested.\"\n\n\"Tyrion?\" she said, shocked.\n\n\"Do you have another husband? The Imp, the dwarf uncle, she thinks he did it.\" He grabbed her hand and pulled at her. \"This way, we must away, quickly now, have no fear.\"\n\nSansa followed unresisting. I could never abide the weeping of women, Joff once said, but his mother was the only woman weeping now. In Old Nan's stories the grumkins crafted magic things that could make a wish come true. Did I wish him dead? she wondered, before she remembered that she was too old to believe in grumkins. \"Tyrion poisoned him?\" Her dwarf husband had hated his nephew, she knew. Could he truly have killed him? Did he know about my hairnet, about the black amethysts? He brought Joff wine. How could you make someone choke by putting an amethyst in their wine? If Tyrion did it, they will think I was part of it as well, she realized with a start of fear. How not? They were man and wife, and Joff had killed her father and mocked her with her brother's death. One flesh, one heart, one soul."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Be quiet now, my sweetling,\" said Dontos. \"Outside the godswood, we must make no sound. Pull up your hood and hide your face.\" Sansa nodded, and did as he said.\n\nHe was so drunk that sometimes Sansa had to lend him her arm to keep him from falling. The bells were ringing out across the city, more and more of them joining in. She kept her head down and stayed in the shadows, close behind Dontos. While descending the serpentine steps he stumbled to his knees and retched. My poor Florian, she thought, as he wiped his mouth with a floppy sleeve. Dress dark, he'd said, yet under his brown hooded cloak he was wearing his old surcoat; red and pink horizontal stripes beneath a black chief bearing three gold crowns, the arms of House Hollard. \"Why are you wearing your surcoat? Joff decreed it was death if you were caught dressed as a knight again, he... oh...\" Nothing Joff had decreed mattered any longer.\n\n\"I wanted to be a knight. For this, at least.\" Dontos lurched back to his feet and took her arm. \"Come. Be quiet now, no questions.\"\n\nThey continued down the serpentine and across a small sunken courtyard. Ser Dontos shoved open a heavy door and lit a taper. They were inside along gallery. Along the walls stood empty suits of armor, dark and dusty, their helms crested with rows of scales that continued down their backs. As they hurried past, the taper's light made the shadows of each scale stretch and twist. The hollow knights are turning into dragons, she thought.\n\nOne more stair took them to an oaken door banded with iron. \"Be strong now, my Jonquil, you are almost there.\" When Dontos lifted the bar and pulled open the door, Sansa felt a cold breeze on her face. She passed through twelve feet of wall, and then she was outside the castle, standing at the top of the cliff. Below was the river, above the sky, and one was as black as the other."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We must climb down,\" Ser Dontos said. \"At the bottom, a man is waiting to row us out to the ship.\"\n\n\"I'll fall.\" Bran had fallen, and he had loved to climb.\n\n\"No you won't. There's a sort of ladder, a secret ladder, carved into the stone. Here, you can feel it, my lady.\" He got down on his knees with her and made her lean over the edge of the cliff, groping with her fingers until she found the handhold cut into the face of the bluff. \"Almost as good as rungs.\"\n\nEven so, it was along way down. \"I can't.\"\n\n\"You must.\"\n\n\"Isn't there another way?\"\n\n\"This is the way. It won't be so hard fora strong young girl like you. Hold on tight and never look down and you'll beat the bottom in no time at all.\" His eyes were shiny. \"Your poor Florian is fat and old and drunk, I'm the one should be afraid. I used to falloff my horse, don't you remember? That was how we began. I was drunk and fell off my horse and Joffrey wanted my fool head, but you saved me. You saved me, sweetling.\"\n\nHe's weeping, she realized. \"And now you have saved me.\"\n\n\"Only if you go. If not, I have killed us both.\"\n\nIt was him, she thought. He killed Joffrey. She had to go, for him as much as for herself. \"You go first, ser.\" If he did fall, she did not want him falling down on her head and knocking both of them off the cliff.\n\n\"As you wish, my lady.\" He gave her a sloppy kiss and swung his legs clumsily over the precipice, kicking about until he found a foothold. \"Let me get down a bit, and come after. You will come now? You must swear it.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I'll come,\" she promised.\n\nSer Dontos disappeared. She could hear him huffing and puffing as he began the descent. Sansa listened to the tolling of the bell, counting each ring. At ten, gingerly, she eased herself over the edge of the cliff, poking with her toes until they found a place to rest. The castle walls loomed large above her, and fora moment she wanted nothing so much as to pull herself up and run back to her warm rooms in the Kitchen Keep. Be brave, she told herself. Be brave, like a lady in a song.\n\nSansa dared not look down. She kept her eyes on the face of the cliff, making certain of each step before reaching for the next. The stone was rough and cold. Sometimes she could feel her fingers slipping, and the handholds were not as evenly spaced as she would have liked. The bells would not stop ringing. Before she was halfway down her arms were trembling and she knew that she was going to fall. One more step, she told herself, one more step. She had to keep moving. If she stopped, she would never start again, and dawn would find her still clinging to the cliff, frozen in fear. One more step, and one more step.\n\nThe ground took her by surprise. She stumbled and fell, her heart pounding. When she rolled onto her back and stared up at from where she had come, her head swam dizzily and her fingers clawed at the dirt. I did it. I did it, I didn't fall, I made the climb and now I'm going home.\n\nSer Dontos pulled her back onto her feet. \"This way. Quiet now, quiet, quiet.\" He stayed close to the shadows that lay black and thick beneath the cliffs. Thankfully they did not have to go far. Fifty yards downriver, a man satin a small skiff, half-hidden by the remains of a great galley that had gone aground there and burned. Dontos limped up to him, puffing. \"Oswell?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No names,\" the man said. \"In the boat.\" He sat hunched over his oars, an old man, tall and gangling, with long white hair and a great hooked nose, with eyes shaded by a cowl. \"Get in, be quick about it,\" he muttered. \"We need to be away.\"\n\nWhen both of them were safe aboard, the cowled man slid the blades into the water and put his back into the oars, rowing them out toward the channel. Behind them the bells were still tolling the boy king's death. They had the dark river all to themselves.\n\nWith slow, steady, rhythmic strokes, they threaded their way downstream, sliding above the sunken galleys, past broken masts, burned hulls, and torn sails. The oarlocks had been muffled, so they moved almost soundlessly. A mist was rising over the water. Sansa saw the embattled ramparts of one of the Imp's winch towers looming above, but the great chain had been lowered, and they rowed unimpeded past the spot where a thousand men had burned. The shore fell away, the fog grew thicker, the sound of the bells began to fade. Finally even the lights were gone, lost somewhere behind them. They were out in Blackwater Bay, and the world shrank to dark water, blowing mist, and their silent companion stooped over the oars. \"How far must we go?\" she asked.\n\n\"No talk.\" The oarsman was old, but stronger than he looked, and his voice was fierce. There was something oddly familiar about his face, though Sansa could not say what it was.\n\n\"Not far.\" Ser Dontos took her hand in his own and rubbed it gently. \"Your friend is near, waiting for you.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No talk!\" the oarsman growled again. \"Sound carries over water, Ser Fool.\"\n\nAbashed, Sansa bit her lip and huddled down in silence. The rest was rowing, rowing, rowing.\n\nThe eastern sky was vague with the first hint of dawn when Sansa finally saw a ghostly shape in the darkness ahead; a trading galley, her sails furled, moving slowly on a single bank of oars. As they drew closer, she saw the ship's figurehead, a merman with a golden crown blowing on a great seashell horn. She heard a voice cry out, and the galley swung slowly about.\n\nAs they came alongside, the galley dropped a rope ladder over the rail. The rower shipped the oars and helped Sansa to her feet. \"Up now. Goon, girl, I got you.\" Sansa thanked him for his kindness, but received no answer but a grunt. It was much easier going up the rope ladder than it had been coming down the cliff. The oarsman Oswell followed close behind her, while Ser Dontos remained in the boat.\n\nTwo sailors were waiting by the rail to help her onto the deck. Sansa was trembling. \"She's cold,\" she heard someone say. He took off his cloak and put it around her shoulders. \"There, is that better, my lady? Rest easy, the worst is past and done.\"\n\nShe knew the voice. But he's in the Vale, she thought. Ser Lothor Brune stood beside him with a torch.\n\n\"Lord Petyr,\" Dontos called from the boat. \"I must needs row back, before they think to look for me.\"\n\nPetyr Baelish put a hand on the rail. \"But first you'll want your payment. Ten thousand dragons, was it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Ten thousand.\" Dontos rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. \"As you promised, my lord.\"\n\n\"Ser Lothor, the reward.\"\n\nLothor Brune dipped his torch. Three men stepped to the gunwale, raised crossbows, fired. One bolt took Dontos in the chest as he looked up, punching through the left crown on his surcoat. The others ripped into throat and belly. It happened so quickly neither Dontos nor Sansa had time to cry out. When it was done, Lothor Brune tossed the torch down on top of the corpse. The little boat was blazing fiercely as the galley moved away.\n\n\"You killed him.\" Clutching the rail, Sansa turned away and retched. Had she escaped the Lannisters to tumble into worse?\n\n\"My lady,\" Littlefinger murmured, \"your grief is wasted on such a man as that. He was a sot, and no man's friend.\"\n\n\"But he saved me.\"\n\n\"He sold you fora promise often thousand dragons. Your disappearance will make them suspect you in Joffrey's death. The gold cloaks will hunt, and the eunuch will jingle his purse. Dontos... well, you heard him. He sold you for gold, and when he'd drunk it up he would have sold you again. A bag of dragons buys a man's silence fora while, but a well-placed quarrel buys it forever.\" He smiled sadly. \"All he did he did at my behest. I dared not befriend you openly. When I heard how you saved his life at Joff's tourney, I knew he would be the perfect catspaw.\"\n\nSansa felt sick. \"He said he was my Florian.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Do you perchance recall what I said to you that day your father sat the Iron Throne?\"\n\nThe moment came back to her vividly. \"You told me that life was not a song. That I would learn that one day, to my sorrow.\" She felt tears in her eyes, but whether she wept for Ser Dontos Hollard, for Joff, for Tyrion, or for herself, Sansa could not say. \"Is it all lies, forever and ever, everyone and everything?\"\n\n\"Almost everyone. Save you and I, of course.\" He smiled. \"Come to the godswood tonight if you want to go home.\"\n\n\"The note... it was you?\"\n\n\"It had to be the godswood. No other place in the Red Keep is safe from the eunuch's little birds... or little rats, as I call them. There are trees in the godswood instead of walls. Sky above instead of ceiling. Roots and dirt and rock in place of floor. The rats have no place to scurry. Rats need to hide, lest men skewer them with swords.\" Lord Petyr took her arm. \"Let me show you to your cabin. You have had along and trying day, I know. You must be weary.\"\n\nAlready the little boat was no more than a swirl of smoke and fire behind them, almost lost in the immensity of the dawn sea. There was no going back; her only road was forward. \"Very weary,\" she admitted.\n\nAshe led her below, he said, \"Tell me of the feast. The queen took such pains. The singers, the jugglers, the dancing bear... did your little lord husband enjoy my jousting dwarfs?\"\n\n\"Yours?\"\n\n\"I had to send to Braavos for them and hide them away in a brothel until the wedding. The expense was exceeded only by the bother. It is surprisingly difficult to hide a dwarf, and Joffrey... you can lead a king to water, but with Joff one had to splash it about before he realized he could drink it. When I told him about my little surprise, His Grace said, \"Why would I want some ugly dwarfs at my feast? I hate dwarfs.\" I had to take him by the shoulder and whisper, \"Not as much as your uncle will.\"\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The deck rocked beneath her feet, and Sansa felt as if the world itself had grown unsteady. \"They think Tyrion poisoned Joffrey. Ser Dontos said they seized him.\"\n\nLittlefinger smiled. \"Widowhood will become you, Sansa.\"\n\nThe thought made her tummy flutter. She might never need to share abed with Tyrion again. That was what she'd wanted... wasn't it?\n\nThe cabin was low and cramped, but a featherbed had been laid upon the narrow sleeping shelf to make it more comfortable, and thick furs piled atop it. \"It will be snug, I know, but you shouldn't be too uncomfortable.\" Littlefinger pointed out a cedar chest under the porthole. \"You'll find fresh garb within. Dresses, smallclothes, warm stockings, a cloak. Wool and linen only, I fear. Unworthy of a maid so beautiful, but they'll serve to keep you dry and clean until we can find you something finer.\"\n\nHe had this all prepared for me. \"My lord, I... I do not understand... Joffrey gave you Harrenhal, made you Lord Paramount of the Trident... why...\"\n\n\"Why should I wish him dead?\" Littlefinger shrugged. \"I had no motive. Besides, I am a thousand leagues away in the Vale. Always keep your foes confused. If they are never certain who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are like to do next. Sometimes the best way to baffle them is to make moves that have no purpose, or even seem to work against you. Remember that, Sansa, when you come to play the game.\"\n\n\"What... what game?\"\n\n\"The only game. The game of thrones.\" He brushed back a strand of her hair. \"You are old enough to know that your mother and I were more than friends. There was a time when Cat was all I wanted in this world. I dared to dream of the life we might make and the children she would give me... but she was a daughter of Riverrun, and Hoster Tully. Family, Duty, Honor, Sansa. Family, Duty, Honor meant I could never have her hand. But she gave me something finer, a gift a woman can give but once. How could I turn my back upon her daughter? Ina better world, you might have been mine, not Eddard Stark's. My loyal loving daughter... Put Joffrey from your mind, sweetling. Dontos, Tyrion, all of them. They will never trouble you again. You are safe now, that's all that matters. You are safe with me, and sailing home.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"JAIME\n\nThe king is dead, they told him, never knowing that Joffrey was his son as well as his sovereign.\n\n\"The Imp opened his throat with a dagger,\" a costermonger declared at the roadside inn where they spent the night. \"He drank his blood from a big gold chalice.\" The man did not recognize the bearded one-handed knight with the big baton his shield, no more than any of them, so he said things he might otherwise have swallowed, had he known who was listening.\n\n\"It was poison did the deed,\" the innkeep insisted. \"The boy's face turned black as a plum.\"\n\n\"May the Father judge him justly,\" murmured a septon.\n\n\"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him,\" swore an archer in Lord Rowan's livery. \"Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws.\"\n\nJaime sat silent through it all, letting the words wash over him, a horn of ale forgotten in his one good hand. Joffrey. My blood. My firstborn. My son. He tried to bring the boy's face to mind, but his features kept turning into Cersei's. She will be in mourning, her hair in disarray and her eyes red from crying, her mouth trembling as she tries to speak. She will cry again when she sees me, though she'll fight the tears. His sister seldom wept but when she was with him. She could not stand for others to think her weak. Only to her twin did she show her wounds. She will look tome for comfort and revenge.\n\nThey rode hard the next day, at Jaime's insistence. His son was dead, and his sister needed him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When he saw the city before him, its watchtowers dark against the gathering dusk, Jaime Lannister cantered up to Steelshanks Walton, behind Nage with the peace banner.\n\n\"What's that awful stink?\" the northman complained.\n\nDeath, thought Jaime, but he said, \"Smoke, sweat, and shit. King's Landing, in short. If you have a good nose you can smell the treachery too. You've never smelled a city before?\"\n\n\"I smelled White Harbor. It never stank like this.\"\n\n\"White Harbor is to King's Landing as my brother Tyrion is to Ser Gregor Clegane.\"\n\nNage led them up a low hill, the seven-tailed peace banner lifting and turning in the wind, the polished seven-pointed star shining bright upon its staff. He would see Cersei soon, and Tyrion, and their father. Could my brother truly have killed the boy? Jaime found that hard to believe.\n\nHe was curiously calm. Men were supposed to go mad with grief when their children died, he knew. They were supposed to tear their hair out by the roots, to curse the gods and swear red vengeance. So why was it that he felt so little? The boy lived and died believing Robert Baratheon his sire.\n\nJaime had seen him born, that was true, though more for Cersei than the child. But he had never held him. \"How would it look?\" his sister warned him when the women finally left them. \"Bad enough Joff looks like you without you mooning over him.\" Jaime yielded with hardly a fight. The boy had been a squalling pink thing who demanded too much of Cersei's time, Cersei's love, and Cersei's breasts. Robert was welcome to him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And now he's dead. He pictured Joff lying still and cold with a face black from poison, and still felt nothing. Perhaps he was the monster they claimed. If the Father Above came down to offer him back his son or his hand, Jaime knew which he would choose. He had a second son, after all, and seed enough for many more. If Cersei wants another child I'll give her one... and this time I'll hold him, and the Others take those who do not like it. Robert was rotting in his grave, and Jaime was sick of lies.\n\nHe turned abruptly and galloped back to find Brienne. Gods know why I bother. She is the least companionable creature I've ever had the misfortune to meet. The wench rode well behind and a few feet off to the side, as if to proclaim that she was no part of them. They had found men's garb for her along the way; a tunic here, a mantle there, a pair of breeches and a cowled cloak, even an old iron breastplate. She looked more comfortable dressed as a man, but nothing would ever make her look handsome. Nor happy. Once out of Harrenhal, her usual pighead stubbornness had soon reasserted itself. \"I want my arms and armor back,\" she had insisted. \"Oh, by all means, let us have you back in steel,\" Jaime replied. \"A helm, especially. We'll all be happier if you keep your mouth shut and your visor down.\"\n\nThat much Brienne could do, but her sullen silences soon began to fray his good humor almost as much as Qyburn's endless attempts to be ingratiating. I never thought I would find myself missing the company of Cleos Frey, gods help me. He was beginning to wish he had left her for the bear after all."},{"from":"human","value":"\"King's Landing,\" Jaime announced when he found her."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Our journey's done, my lady. You've kept your vow, and delivered me to King's Landing. All but a few fingers and a hand.\"\n\nBrienne's eyes were listless. \"That was only half my vow. I told Lady Catelyn I would bring her back her daughters. Or Sansa, at the least. And now...\"\n\nShe never met Robb Stark, yet her grief for him runs deeper than mine for Joff. Or perhaps it was Lady Catelyn she mourned. They had been at Brindlewood when they had that news, from a red-faced tub of a knight named Ser Bertram Beesbury, whose arms were three beehives on afield striped black and yellow. A troop of Lord Piper's men had passed through Brindlewood only yesterday, Beesbury told them, rushing to King's Landing beneath a peace banner of their own. \"With the Young Wolf dead Piper saw no point to fighting on. His son is captive at the Twins.\" Brienne gaped like a cow about to choke on her cud, so it fell to Jaime to draw out the tale of the Red Wedding.\n\n\"Every great lord has unruly bannermen who envy him his place,\" he told her afterward. \"My father had the Reynes and Tarbecks, the Tyrells have the Florents, Hoster Tully had Walder Frey. Only strength keeps such men in their place. The moment they smell weakness... during the Age of Heroes, the Boltons used to flay the Starks and wear their skins as cloaks.\" She looked so miserable that Jaime almost found himself wanting to comfort her.\n\nSince that day Brienne had been like one half-dead. Even calling her'wench\" failed to provoke any response. The strength is gone from her. The woman had dropped a rock on Robin Ryger, battled a bear with a tourney sword, bitten off Vargo Hoat's ear, and fought Jaime to exhaustion... but she was broken now, done. \"I'll speak to my father about returning you to Tarth, if it please you,\" he told her. \"Or if you would rather stay, I could perchance find someplace for you at court.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"As a lady companion to the queen?\" she said dully.\n\nJaime remembered the sight of her in that pink satin gown, and tried not to imagine what his sister might say of such a companion. \"Perhaps a post with the City Watch...\"\n\n\"I will not serve with oathbreakers and murderers.\"\n\nThen why did you ever bother putting on a sword? he might have said, but he bit back the words. \"As you will, Brienne.\" One-handed, he wheeled his horse about and left her.\n\nThe Gate of the Gods was open when they reached it, but two dozen wayns were lined up along the roadside, loaded with casks of cider, barrels of apples, bales of hay, and some of the biggest pumpkins Jaime had ever seen. Almost every wagon had its guards; men-at-arms wearing the badges of small lordlings, sellswords in mail and boiled leather, sometimes only a pink-cheeked farmer's son clutching a homemade spear with afire-hardened point. Jaime smiled at them all as he trotted past. At the gate, the gold cloaks were collecting coin from each driver before waving the wagons through. \"What's this?\" Steelshanks demanded.\n\n\"They got to pay for the right to sell inside the city. By command of the King's Hand and the master of coin.\"\n\nJaime looked at the long line of wayns, carts, and laden horses. \"Yet they still lineup to pay?\"\n\n\"There's good coin to be made here now that the fighting's done,\" the miller in the nearest wagon told them cheerfully. \"It's the Lannisters hold the city now, old Lord Tywin of the Rock. They say he shits silver.\"\n\n\"Gold,\" Jaime corrected dryly. \"And Littlefinger mints the stuff from goldenrod, I vow.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"The Imp is master of coin now,\" said the captain of the gate."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Or was, till they arrested him for murdering the king.\" The man looked the northmen over suspiciously. \"Who are you lot?\"\n\n\"Lord Bolton's men, come to seethe King's Hand.\"\n\nThe captain glanced at Nage with his peace banner. \"Come to bend the knee, you mean. You're not the first. Go straight up to the castle, and see you make no trouble.\" He waved them through and turned back to the wagons.\n\nIf King's Landing mourned its dead boy king, Jaime would never have known it. On the Street of Seeds a begging brother in threadbare robes was praying loudly for Joffrey's soul, but the passersby paid him no more heed than they would a loose shutter banging in the wind. Elsewhere milled the usual crowds; gold cloaks in their blackmail, bakers' boys selling tarts and breads and hot pies, whores leaning out of windows with their bodices half unlaced, gutters redolent of nightsoil. They passed five men trying to drag a dead horse from the mouth of an alley, and elsewhere a juggler spinning knives through the air to delight a throng of drunken Tyrell soldiers and small children.\n\nRiding down familiar streets with two hundred northmen, a chainless maester, and an ugly freak of a woman at his side, Jaime found he scarcely drew a second look. He did not know whether he ought to be amused or annoyed. \"They do not know me,\" he said to Steelshanks as they rode through Cobbler's Square.\n\n\"Your face is changed, and your arms as well,\" the northman said, \"and they have anew Kingslayer now.\"\n\nThe gates to the Red Keep were open, but a dozen gold cloaks armed with pikes barred the way. They lowered their points as Steelshanks came trotting up, but Jaime recognized the white knight commanding them. \"Ser Meryn.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ser Meryn Trant's droopy eyes went wide. \"Ser Jaime?\"\n\n\"How nice to be remembered. Move these men aside.\"\n\nIt had been along time since anyone had leapt to obey him quite so fast. Jaime had forgotten how well he liked it.\n\nThey found two more Kingsguard in the outer ward; two who had not worn white cloaks when Jaime last served here. How like Cersei to name me Lord Commander and then choose my colleagues without consulting me. \"Someone has given me two new brothers, I see,\" he said as he dismounted.\n\n\"We have that honor, ser.\" The Knight of Flowers shone so fine and pure in his white scales and silk that Jaime felt a tattered and tawdry thing by contrast.\n\nJaime turned to Meryn Trant. \"Ser, you've been remiss in teaching our new brothers their duties.\"\n\n\"What duties?\" said Meryn Trant defensively.\n\n\"Keeping the king alive. How many monarchs have you lost since I left the city? Two, is it?\"\n\nThen Ser Balon saw the stump. \"Your hand...\"\n\nJaime made himself smile. \"I fight with my left now. It makes for more of a contest. Where will I find my lord father?\"\n\n\"In the solar with Lord Tyrell and Prince Oberyn.\"\n\nMace Tyrell and the Red Viper breaking bread together? Strange and stranger. \"Is the queen with them as well?\"\n\n\"No, my lord,\" Ser Balon answered. \"You'll find her in the sept, praying over King Joff-\"\n\n\"You!\"\n\nThe last of the northmen had dismounted, Jaime saw, and now Loras Tyrell had seen Brienne."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Ser Loras.\" She stood stupidly, holding her bridle.\n\nLoras Tyrell strode toward her. \"Why?\" he said. \"You will tell me why. He treated you kindly, gave you a rainbow cloak. Why would you kill him?\"\n\n\"I never did. I would have died for him.\"\n\n\"You will.\" Ser Loras drew his longsword.\n\n\"It was not me.\"\n\n\"Emmon Cuy swore it was, with his dying breath.\"\n\n\"He was outside the tent, he never saw-\"\n\n\"There was no one in the tent but you and Lady Stark. Do you claim that old woman could cut through hardened steel?\"\n\n\"There was a shadow. I know how mad it sounds, but... I was helping Renly into his armor, and the candles blew out and there was blood everywhere. It was Stannis, Lady Catelyn said. His... his shadow. I had no part in it, on my honor...\"\n\n\"You have no honor. Draw your sword. I won't have it said that I slew you while your hand was empty.\"\n\nJaime stepped between them. \"Put the sword away, ser.\"\n\nSer Loras edged around him. \"Are you a craven as well as a killer, Brienne? Is that why you ran, with his blood on your hands? Draw your sword, woman!\"\n\n\"Best hope she doesn't.\" Jaime blocked his path again. \"Or it's like to be your corpse we carryout. The wench is as strong as Gregor Clegane, though not so pretty.\"\n\n\"This is no concern of yours.\" Ser Loras shoved him aside.\n\nJaime grabbed the boy with his good hand and yanked him around. \"I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, you arrogant pup. Your commander, so long as you wear that white cloak. Now sheathe your bloody sword, or I'll take it from you and shove it up someplace even Renly never found.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The boy hesitated half a heartbeat, long enough for Ser Balon Swann to say, \"Do as the Lord Commander says, Loras.\" Some of the gold cloaks drew their steel then, and that made some Dreadfort men do the same. Splendid, thought Jaime, no sooner do I climb down off my horse than we have a bloodbath in the yard.\n\nSer Loras Tyrell slammed his sword back into its sheath.\n\n\"That wasn't so difficult, was it?\"\n\n\"I want her arrested.\" Ser Loras pointed. \"Lady Brienne, I charge you with the murder of Lord Renly Baratheon.\"\n\n\"For what it's worth,\" said Jaime, \"the wench does have honor. More than I have seen from you. And it may even be she's telling it true. I'll grant you, she's not what you'd call clever, but even my horse could come up with a better lie, if it was a lie she meant to tell. As you insist, however... Ser Balon, escort Lady Brienne to a tower cell and hold her thereunder guard. And find some suitable quarters for Steelshanks and his men, until such time as my father can see them.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\"\n\nBrienne's big blue eyes were full of hurt as Balon Swann and a dozen gold cloaks led her away. You ought to be blowing me kisses, wench, he wanted to tell her. Why must they misunderstand every bloody thing he did? Aerys. It all grows from Aerys. Jaime turned his back on the wench and strode across the yard.\n\nAnother knight in white armor was guarding the doors of the royal sept; a tall man with a black beard, broad shoulders, and a hooked nose. When he saw Jaime he gave a sour smile and said, \"And where do you think you're going?\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"In your role as the author's collaborator, continue the tale.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 62\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Does she wish it were her in Margaery's place?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tyrion frowned. Even a child should have better sense. He turned away, wanting distraction, but everywhere he looked were women, fair fine beautiful happy women who belonged to other men. Margaery, of course, smiling sweetly as she and Joffrey shared a drink from the great seven-sided wedding chalice. Her mother Lady Alerie, silver-haired and handsome, still proud beside Mace Tyrell. The queen's three young cousins, bright as birds. Lord Merryweather's dark-haired Myrish wife with her big black sultry eyes. Ellaria Sand among the Dornishmen (Cersei had placed them at their own table, just below the dais in a place of high honor but as far from the Tyrells as the width of the hall would allow), laughing at something the Red Viper had told her.\\n\\nAnd there was one woman, sitting almost at the foot of the third table on the left... the wife of one of the Fossoways, he thought, and heavy with his child. Her delicate beauty was in noway diminished by her belly, nor washer pleasure in the food and frolics. Tyrion watched as her husband fed her morsels off his plate. They drank from the same cup, and would kiss often and unpredictably. Whenever they did, his hand would gently rest upon her stomach, a tender and protective gesture.\\n\\nHe wondered what Sansa would do if he leaned over and kissed her right now. Flinch away, most likely. Or be brave and suffer through it, as washer duty. She is nothing if not dutiful, this wife of mine. If he told her that he wished to have her maidenhead tonight, she would suffer that dutifully as well, and weep no more than she had to.\\n\\nHe called for more wine. By the time he got it, the second course was being served, a pstry coffyn filled with pork, pine nuts, and eggs. Sansa ate no more than a bite of hers, as the heralds were summoning the first of the seven singers.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Grey-bearded Hamish the Harper announced that he would perform'for the ears of gods and men, a song ne'er heard before in all the Seven Kingdoms.\\\" He called it'Lord Renly's Ride.\\\"\\n\\nHis fingers moved across the strings of the high harp, filling the throne room with sweet sound. \\\"From his throne of bones the Lord of Death looked down on the murdered lord,\\\" Hamish began, and went onto tell how Renly, repenting his attempt to usurp his nephew's crown, had defied the Lord of Death himself and crossed back to the land of the living to defend the realm against his brother.\\n\\nAnd for this poor Symon wound up in a bowl of brown, Tyrion mused. Queen Margaery was teary-eyed by the end, when the shade of brave Lord Renly flew to Highgarden to steal one last look at his truelove's face. \\\"Renly Baratheon never repented of anything in his life,\\\" the Imp told Sansa, \\\"but if I'm any judge, Hamish just won himself a gilded lute.\\\"\\n\\nThe Harper also gave them several more familiar songs. \\\"A Rose of Gold\\\" was for the Tyrells, no doubt, as'The Rains of Castamere\\\" was meant to flatter his father. \\\"Maiden, Mother, and Crone\\\" delighted the High Septon, and'My Lady Wife\\\" pleased all the little girls with romance in their hearts, and no doubt some little boys as well. Tyrion listened with half a ear, as he sampled sweetcorn fritters and hot oatbread baked with bits of date, apple, and orange, and gnawed on the rib of a wild boar.\\n\\nThereafter dishes and diversions succeeded one another in a staggering profusion, buoyed along upon a flood of wine and ale. Hamish left them, his place taken by a smallish elderly bear who danced clumsily to pipe and drum while the wedding guests ate trout cooked in a crust of crushed almonds. Moon Boy mounted his stilts and strode around the tables in pursuit of Lord Tyrell's ludicrously fat fool Butterbumps, and the lords and ladies sampled roast herons and cheese-and-onion pies. A troupe of Pentoshi tumblers performed cartwheels and handstands, balanced platters on their bare feet, and stood upon each other's shoulders to form a pyramid. Their feats were accompanied by crabs boiled in fiery eastern spices, trenchers filled with chunks of chopped mutton stewed in almond milk with carrots, raisins, and onions, and fish tarts fresh from the ovens, served so hot they burned the fingers.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then the heralds summoned another singer; Collio Quaynis of Tyrosh, who had a vermilion beard and an accent as ludicrous as Symon had promised. Collio began with his version of'The Dance of the Dragons,\\\" which was more properly a song for two singers, male and female. Tyrion suffered through it with a double helping of honey-ginger partridge and several cups of wine. A haunting ballad of two dying lovers amidst the Doom of Valyria might have pleased the hall more if Collio had not sung it in High Valyrian, which most of the guests could not speak. But'Bessa the Barmaid\\\" won them back with its ribald lyrics. Peacocks were served in their plumage, roasted whole and stuffed with dates, while Collio summoned a drummer, bowed low before Lord Tywin, and launched into'The Rains of Castamere.\\\"\\n\\nIf I have to hear seven versions of that, I may go down to Flea Bottom and apologize to the stew. Tyrion turned to his wife. \\\"So which did you prefer?\\\"\\n\\nSansa blinked at him. \\\"My lord?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The singers. Which did you prefer?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I... I'm sorry, my lord. I was not listening.\\\"\\n\\nShe was not eating, either. \\\"Sansa, is aught amiss?\\\" He spoke without thinking, and instantly felt the fool. All her kin are slaughtered and she's wed tome, and I wonder what's amiss.\\n\\n\\\"No, my lord.\\\" She looked away from him, and feigned an unconvincing interest in Moon Boy pelting Ser Dontos with dates.\\n\\nFour master pyromancers conjured up beasts of living flame to tear at each other with fiery claws whilst the serving men ladeled out bowls of blandissory, a mixture of beef broth and boiled wine sweetened with honey and dotted with blanched almonds and chunks of capon. Then came some strolling pipers and clever dogs and sword swallowers, with buttered pease, chopped nuts, and slivers of swan poached in a sauce of saffron and peaches. (\\\"Not swan again,\\\" Tyrion muttered, remembering his supper with his sister on the eve of battle.) A juggler kept a half-dozen swords and axes whirling through the air as skewers of blood sausage were brought sizzling to the tables, a juxtaposition that Tyrion thought passing clever, though not perhaps in the best of taste.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The heralds blew their trumpets. \\\"To sing for the golden lute,\\\" one cried, \\\"we give you Galyeon of Cuy.\\\"\\n\\nGalyeon was a big barrel-chested man with a black beard, a bald head, and a thunderous voice that filled every corner of the throne room. He brought no fewer than six musicians to play for him. \\\"Noble lords and ladies fair, I sing but one song for you this night,\\\" he announced. \\\"It is the song of the Blackwater, and how a realm was saved.\\\" The drummer began a slow ominous beat.\\n\\n\\\"The dark lord brooded high in his tower,\\\" Galyeon began, \\\"in a castle as black as the night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Black was his hair and black was his soul,\\\" the musicians chanted in unison. A flute came in.\\n\\n\\\"He feasted on bloodlust and envy, and filled his cup full up with spite,\\\" sang Galyeon. \\\"My brother once ruled seven kingdoms, he said to his harridan wife. I'll take what was his and make it all mine. Let his son feel the point of my knife.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A brave young boy with hair of gold,\\\" his players chanted, as a woodharp and a fiddle began to play.\\n\\n\\\"If I am ever Hand again, the first thing I'll do is hang all the singers,\\\" said Tyrion, too loudly.\\n\\nLady Leonette laughed lightly beside him, and Ser Garlan leaned over to say, \\\"A valiant deed unsung is no less valiant.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The dark lord assembled his legions, they gathered around him like crows. And thirsty for blood they boarded their ships...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"... and cutoff poor Tyrion's nose,\\\" Tyrion finished.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Lady Leonette giggled. \\\"Perhaps you should be a singer, my lord. You rhyme as well as this Galyeon.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, my lady,\\\" Ser Garlan said. \\\"My lord of Lannister was made to do great deeds, not to sing of them. But for his chain and his wildfire, the foe would have been across the river. And if Tyrion's wildlings had not slain most of Lord Stannis's scouts, we would never have been able to take him unawares.\\\"\\n\\nHis words made Tyrion feel absurdly grateful, and helped to mollify him as Galyeon sang endless verses about the valor of the boy king and his mother, the golden queen.\\n\\n\\\"She never did that,\\\" Sansa blurted out suddenly.\\n\\n\\\"Never believe anything you hear in a song, my lady.\\\" Tyrion summoned a serving man to refill their wine cups.\\n\\nSoon it was full night outside the tall windows, and still Galyeon sang on. His song had seventy-seven verses, though it seemed more like a thousand. One for every guest in the hall. Tyrion drank his way through the last twenty or so, to help resist the urge to stuff mushrooms in his ears. By the time the singer had taken his bows, some of the guests were drunk enough to begin providing unintentional entertainments of their own. Grand Maester Pycelle fell asleep while dancers from the Summer Isles swirled and spun in robes made of bright feathers and smoky silk. Roundels of elk stuffed with ripe blue cheese were being brought out when one of Lord Rowan's knights stabbed a Dornishman. The gold cloaks dragged them both away, one to a cell to rot and the other to get sewn up by Maester Ballabar.\\n\\nTyrion was toying with a leche of brawn, spiced with cinnamon, cloves, sugar, and almond milk, when King Joffrey lurched suddenly to his feet. \\\"Bring on my royal jousters!\\\" he shouted in a voice thick with wine, clapping his hands together.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"My nephew is drunker than I am, Tyrion thought as the gold cloaks opened the great doors at the end of the hall. From where he sat, he could only seethe tops of two striped lances as a pair of riders entered side by side. A wave of laughter followed them down the center aisle toward the king. They must be riding ponies, he concluded... until they came into full view.\\n\\nThe jousters were a pair of dwarfs. One was mounted on an ugly grey dog, long of leg and heavy of jaw. The other rode an immense spotted sow. Painted wooden armor clattered and clacked as the little knights bounced up and down in their saddles. Their shields were bigger than they were, and they wrestled manfully with their lances as they clomped along, swaying this way and that and eliciting gusts of mirth. One knight was all in gold, with a black stag painted on his shield; the other wore grey and white, and bore a wolf device. Their mounts were barded likewise.\\n\\nTyrion glanced along the dais at all the laughing faces. Joffrey was red and breathless, Tommen was hooting and hopping up and down in his seat, Cersei was chuckling politely, and even Lord Tywin looked mildly amused. Of all those at the high table, only Sansa Stark was not smiling. He could have loved her for that, but if truth be told the Stark girl's eyes were faraway, as if she had not even seen the ludicrous riders loping toward her.\\n\\nThe dwarfs are not to blame, Tyrion decided. When they are done, I shall compliment them and give them a fat purse of silver. And come the morrow, I will find whoever planned this little diversion and arrange fora different sort of thanks.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When the dwarfs reined up beneath the dais to salute the king, the wolf knight dropped his shield. Ashe leaned over to grab for it, the stag knight lost control of his heavy lance and slammed him across the back. The wolf knight fell off his pig, and his lance tumbled over and boinked his foe on the head. They both wound upon the floor in a great tangle. When they rose, both tried to mount the dog. Much shouting and shoving followed. Finally they regained their saddles, only mounted on each other's steed, holding the wrong shield and facing backward.\\n\\nIt took sometime to sort that out, but in the end they spurred to opposite ends of the hall, and wheeled about for the tilt. As the lords and ladies guffawed and giggled, the little men came together with a crash and a clatter, and the wolf knight's lance struck the helm of the stag knight and knocked his head clean off. It spun through the air spattering blood to land in the lap of Lord Gyles. The headless dwarf careened around the tables, flailing his arms. Dogs barked, women shrieked, and Moon Boy made a great show of swaying perilously back and forth on his stilts, until Lord Gyles pulled a dripping red melon out of the shattered helm, at which point the stag knight poked his face up out of his armor, and another storm of laughter rocked the hall. The knights waited for it to die, circled around each other trading colorful insults, and were about to separate for another joust when the dog threw its rider to the floor and mounted the sow. The huge pig squealed in distress, while the wedding guests squealed with laughter, especially when the stag knight leapt onto the wolf knight, letdown his wooden breeches, and started to pump away frantically at the other's nether portions.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I yield, I yield,\\\" the dwarf on the bottom screamed. \\\"Good ser, put up your sword!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I would, I would, if you'll stop moving the sheath!\\\" the dwarf on the top replied, to the merriment of all.\\n\\nJoffrey was snorting wine from both nostrils. Gasping, he lurched to his feet, almost knocking over his tall two-handed chalice. \\\"A champion,\\\" he shouted. \\\"We have a champion!\\\" The hall began to quiet when it was seen that the king was speaking. The dwarfs untangled, no doubt anticipating the royal thanks. \\\"Not a true champion, though,\\\" said Joff. \\\"A true champion defeats all challengers.\\\" The king climbed upon the table. \\\"Who else will challenge our tiny champion?\\\" With a gleeful smile, he turned toward Tyrion. \\\"Uncle! You'll defend the honor of my realm, won't you? You can ride the pig!\\\"\\n\\nThe laughter crashed over him like a wave. Tyrion Lannister did not remember rising, nor climbing on his chair, but he found himself standing on the table. The hall was a torchlit blur of leering faces. He twisted his face into the most hideous mockery of a smile the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen. \\\"Your Grace,\\\" he called, \\\"I'll ride the pig... but only if you ride the dog!\\\"\\n\\nJoff scowled, confused. \\\"Me? I'm no dwarf. Why me?\\\"\\n\\nStepped right into the cut, Joff. \\\"Why, you're the only man in the hall that I'm certain of defeating!\\\"\\n\\nHe could not have said which was sweeter; the instant of shocked silence, the gale of laughter that followed, or the look of blind rage on his nephew's face. The dwarf hopped back to the floor well satisfied, and by the time he looked back Ser Osmund and Ser Meryn were helping Joff climb down as well. When he noticed Cersei glaring at him, Tyrion blew her a kiss.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was a relief when the musícians began to play. The tiny jousters led dog and sow from the hall, the guests returned to their trenchers of brawn, and Tyrion called for another cup of wine. But suddenly he felt Ser Garlan's hand on his sleeve. \\\"My lord, beware,\\\" the knight warned. \\\"The king.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion turned in his seat. Joffrey was almost upon him, red-faced and staggering, wine slopping over the rim of the great golden wedding chalice he carried in both hands. \\\"Your Grace,\\\" was all he had time to say before the king upended the chalice over his head. The wine washed down over his face in a red torrent. It drenched his hair, stung his eyes, burned in his wound, ran down his cheeks, and soaked the velvet of his new doublet. \\\"How do you like that, Imp?\\\" Joffrey mocked.\\n\\nTyrion's eyes were on fire. He dabbed at his face with the back of a sleeve and tried to blink the world back into clarity. \\\"That was ill done, Your Grace,\\\" he heard Ser Garlan say quietly.\\n\\n\\\"Not at all, Ser Garlan.\\\" Tyrion dare not let this grow any uglier than it was, not here, with half the realm looking on. \\\"Not every king would think to honor a humble subject by serving him from his own royal chalice. A pity the wine spilled.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It didn't spill,\\\" said Joffrey, too graceless to take the retreat Tyrion offered him. \\\"And I wasn't serving you, either.\\\"\\n\\nQueen Margaery appeared suddenly at Joffrey's elbow. \\\"My sweet king,\\\" the Tyrell girl entreated, \\\"come, return to your place, there's another singer waiting.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Alaric of Eysen,\\\" said Lady Olenna Tyrell, leaning on her cane and taking no more notice of the wine-soaked dwarf than her granddaughter had done. \\\"I do so hope he plays us \\\"The Rains of Castamere.\\\" It has been an hour, I've forgotten how it goes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ser Addam has a toast he wants to make as well,\\\" said Margaery. \\\"Your Grace, please.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have no wine,\\\" Joffrey declared. \\\"How can I drink a toast if I have no wine? Uncle Imp, you can serve me. Since you won't joust you'll be my cupbearer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I would be most honored.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's not meant to bean honor!\\\" Joffrey screamed. \\\"Bend down and pickup my chalice.\\\" Tyrion did as he was bid, but as he reached for the handle Joff kicked the chalice through his legs. \\\"Pick it up! Are you as clumsy as you are ugly?\\\" He had to crawl under the table to find the thing. \\\"Good, now fill it with wine.\\\" He claimed a flagon from a serving girl and filled the goblet three-quarters full. \\\"No, on your knees, dwarf.\\\" Kneeling, Tyrion raised up the heavy cup, wondering if he was about to get a second bath. But Joffrey took the wedding chalice one-handed, drank deep, and set it on the table. \\\"You can getup now, Uncle.\\\"\\n\\nHis legs cramped as he tried to rise, and almost spilled him again. Tyrion had to grab hold of a chair to steady himself. Ser Garlan lent him a hand. Joffrey laughed, and Cersei as well. Then others. He could not see who, but he heard them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your Grace.\\\" Lord Tywin's voice was impeccably correct. \\\"They are bringing in the pie. Your sword is needed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The pie?\\\" Joffrey took his queen by the hand. \\\"Come, my lady, it's the pie.\\\"\\n\\nThe guests stood, shouting and applauding and smashing their wine cups together as the great pie made its slow way down the length of the hall, wheeled along by a half-dozen beaming cooks. Two yards across it was, crusty and golden brown, and they could hear squeaks and thumpings coming from inside it.\\n\\nTyrion pulled himself back into his chair. All he needed now was fora dove to shit on him and his day would be complete. The wine had soaked through his doublet and smallclothes, and he could feel the wetness against his skin. He ought to change, but no one was permitted to leave the feast until the time came for the bedding ceremony. That was still a good twenty or thirty dishes off, he judged.\\n\\nKing Joffrey and his queen met the pie below the dais. As Joff drew his sword, Margaery laid a hand on his arm to restrain him. \\\"Widow's Wail was not meant for slicing pies.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"True.\\\" Joffrey lifted his voice. \\\"Ser Ilyn, your sword!\\\"\\n\\nFrom the shadows at the back of the hall, Ser Ilyn Payne appeared. The specter at the feast, thought Tyrion as he watched the King's Justice stride forward, gaunt and grim. He had been too young to have known Ser Ilyn before he'd lost his tongue. He would have been a different man in those days, but now the silence is as much apart of him as those hollow eyes, that rusty chainmail shirt, and the greatsword on his back.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Ilyn bowed before the king and queen, reached back over his shoulder, and drew forth six feet of ornate silver bright with runes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He knelt to offer the huge blade to Joffrey, hilt first; points of red fire winked from ruby eyes on the pommel, a chunk of dragonglass carved in the shape of a grinning skull.\\n\\nSansa stirred in her seat. \\\"What sword is that?\\\"\\n\\nTyrion's eyes still stung from the wine. He blinked and looked again. Ser Ilyn's greatsword was as long and wide as Ice, but it was too silvery-bright; Valyrian steel had a darkness to it, a smokiness in its soul. Sansa clutched his arm. \\\"What has Ser Ilyn done with my father's sword?\\\"\\n\\nI should have sent Ice back to Robb Stark, Tyrion thought. He glanced at his father, but Lord Tywin was watching the king.\\n\\nJoffrey and Margaery joined hands to lift the greatsword and swung it down together in a silvery arc. When the piecrust broke, the doves burst forth in a swirl of white feathers, scattering in every direction, flapping for the windows and the rafters. A roar of delight went up from the benches, and the fiddlers and pipers in the gallery began to play a sprightly tune. Joff took his bride in his arms, and whirled her around merrily.\\n\\nA serving man placed a slice of hot pigeon pie in front of Tyrion and covered it with a spoon of lemon cream. The pigeons were well and truly cooked in this pie, but he found them no more appetizing than the white ones fluttering about the hall. Sansa was not eating either. \\\"You're deathly pale, my lady,\\\" Tyrion said. \\\"You need a breath of cool air, and I need afresh doublet.\\\" He stood and offered her his hand. \\\"Come.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But before they could make their retreat, Joffrey was back. \\\"Uncle, where are you going? You're my cupbearer, remember?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I need to change into fresh garb, Your Grace. May I have your leave?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. I like the look of you this way. Serve me my wine.\\\"\\n\\nThe king's chalice was on the table where he'd left it. Tyrion had to climb back onto his chair to reach it. Joff yanked it from his hands and drank long and deep, his throat working as the wine ran purple down his chin. \\\"My lord,\\\" Margaery said, \\\"we should return to our places. Lord Buckler wants to toast us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My uncle hasn't eaten his pigeon pie.\\\" Holding the chalice one-handed, Joff jammed his other into Tyrion's pie. \\\"It's ill luck not to eat the pie,\\\" he scolded as he filled his mouth with hot spiced pigeon. \\\"See, it's good.\\\" Spitting out flakes of crust, he coughed and helped himself to another fistful. \\\"Dry, though. Needs washing down.\\\" Joff took a swallow of wine and coughed again, more violently. \\\"I want to see, kof, see you ride that, kof kof, pig, Uncle. I want...\\\" His words broke up in a fit of coughing.\\n\\nMargaery looked at him with concern. \\\"Your Grace?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's, kof, the pie, noth-kof, pie.\\\" Joff took another drink, or tried to, but all the wine came spewing back out when another spate of coughing doubled him over. His face was turning red. \\\"I, kof, I can't, kof kof kof kof...\\\" The chalice slipped from his hand and dark red wine went running across the dais.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He's choking,\\\" Queen Margaery gasped.\\n\\nHer grandmother moved to her side. \\\"Help the poorboy!\\\" the Queen of Thorns screeched, in a voice ten times her size. \\\"Dolts! Will you all stand about gaping? Help your king!\\\"\\n\\nSer Garlan shoved Tyrion aside and began to pound Joffrey on the back. Ser Osmund Kettleblack ripped open the king's collar. A fearful high thin sound emerged from the boy's throat, the sound of a man trying to suck a river through a reed; then it stopped, and that was more terrible still. \\\"Turn him over!\\\" Mace Tyrell bellowed at everyone and no one. \\\"Turn him over, shake him by his heels!\\\" A different voice was calling, \\\"Water, give him some water!\\\" The High Septon began to pray loudly. Grand Maester Pycelle shouted for someone to help him back to his chambers, to fetch his potions. Joffrey began to claw at his throat, his nails tearing bloody gouges in the flesh. Beneath the skin, the muscles stood out hard as stone. Prince Tommen was screaming and crying.\\n\\nHe is going to die, Tyrion realized. He felt curiously calm, though pandemonium raged all about him. They were pounding Joff on the back again, but his face was only growing darker. Dogs were barking, children were wailing, men were shouting useless advice at each other. Half the wedding guests were on their feet, some shoving at each other fora better view, others rushing for the doors in their haste to getaway.\\n\\nSer Meryn pried the king's mouth open to jam a spoon down his throat. Ashe did, the boy's eyes met Tyrion's. He has Jaime's eyes. Only he had never seen Jaime look so scared. The boy's only thirteen. Joffrey was making a dry clacking noise, trying to speak. His eyes bulged white with terror, and he lifted a hand... reaching for his uncle, or pointing... Is he begging my forgiveness, or does he think I can save him? \\\"Noooo,\\\" Cersei wailed, \\\"Father help him, someone help him, my son, my son...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tyrion found himself thinking of Robb Stark. My own wedding is looking much better in hindsight. He looked to see how Sansa was taking this, but there was so much confusion in the hall that he could not find her. But his eyes fell on the wedding chalice, forgotten on the floor. He went and scooped it up. There was still a half-inch of deep purple wine in the bottom of it. Tyrion considered it a moment, then poured it on the floor.\\n\\nMargaery Tyrell was weeping in her grandmother's arms as the old lady said, \\\"Be brave, be brave.\\\" Most of the musicians had fled, but one last flutist in the gallery was blowing a dirge. In the rear of the throne room scuffling had broken out around the doors, and the guests were trampling on each other. Ser Addam's gold cloaks moved into restore order. Guests were rushing headlong out into the night, some weeping, some stumbling and retching, others white with fear. It occurred to Tyrion belatedly that it might be wise to leave himself.\\n\\nWhen he heard Cersei's scream, he knew that it was over.\\n\\nI should leave. Now. Instead he waddled toward her.\\n\\nHis sister satin a puddle of wine, cradling her son's body. Her gown was torn and stained, her face white as chalk. A thin black dog crept up beside her, sniffing at Joffrey's corpse. \\\"The boy is gone, Cersei,\\\" Lord Tywin said. He put his gloved hand on his daughter's shoulder as one of his guardsmen shooed away the dog. \\\"Unhand him now. Let him go.\\\" She did not hear. It took two Kingsguard to pry loose her fingers, so the body of King Joffrey Baratheon could slide limp and lifeless to the floor.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The High Septon knelt beside him. \\\"Father Above, judge our good King Joffrey justly,\\\" he intoned, beginning the prayer for the dead. Margaery Tyrell began to sob, and Tyrion heard her mother Lady Alerie saying, \\\"He choked, sweetling. He choked on the pie. It was naught to do with you. He choked. We all saw.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He did not choke.\\\" Cersei's voice was sharp as Ser Ilyn's sword. \\\"My son was poisoned.\\\" She looked to the white knights standing helplessly around her. \\\"Kingsguard, do your duty.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My lady?\\\" said Ser Loras Tyrell, uncertain.\\n\\n\\\"Arrest my brother,\\\" she commanded him. \\\"He did this, the dwarf. Him and his little wife. They killed my son. Your king. Take them! Take them both!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"SANSA\\n\\nFar across the city, a bell began to toll.\\n\\nSansa felt as though she were in a dream. \\\"Joffrey is dead,\\\" she told the trees, to see if that would wake her.\\n\\nHe had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing. Lady Tanda had been fleeing as well. \\\"You have a good heart, my lady,\\\" she said to Sansa. \\\"Not every maid would weep so fora man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf.\\\"\\n\\nA good heart. I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy?\\n\\nShe found her clothes where she had hidden them, the night before last. With no maids to help her, it took her longer than it should have to undo the laces of her gown. Her hands were strangely clumsy, though she was not as frightened as she ought to have been. \\\"The gods are cruel to take him so young and handsome, at his own wedding feast,\\\" Lady Tanda had said to her.\\n\\nThe gods are just, thought Sansa. Robb had died at a wedding feast as well. It was Robb she wept for. Him and Margaery. Poor Margaery, twice wed and twice widowed. Sansa slid her arm from a sleeve, pushed down the gown, and wriggled out of it. She balled it up and shoved it into the bole of an oak, shook out the clothing she had hidden there. Dress warmly, Ser Dontos had told her, and dress dark. She had no blacks, so she chose a dress of thick brown wool. The bodice was decorated with freshwater pearls, though. The cloak will cover them. The cloak was a deep green, with a large hood. She slipped the dress over her head, and donned the cloak, though she left the hood down for the moment. There were shoes as well, simple and sturdy, with flat heels and square toes. The gods heard my prayer, she thought. She felt so numb and dreamy. My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Her hands moved stiffly, awkwardly, as if they had never letdown her hair before. Fora moment she wished Shae was there, to help her with the net.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"When she pulled it free, her long auburn hair cascaded down her back and across her shoulders.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The web of spun silver hung from her fingers, the fine metal glimmering softly, the stones black in the moonlight. Black amethysts from Asshai. One of them was missing. Sansa lifted the net fora closer look. There was a dark smudge in the silver socket where the stone had fallen out.\\n\\nA sudden terror filled her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and for an instant she held her breath. Why am I so scared, it's only an amethyst, a black amethyst from Asshai, no more than that. It must have been loose in the setting, that's all. It was loose and it fell out, and now it's lying somewhere in the throne room, or in the yard, unless...\\n\\nSer Dontos had said the hairnet was magic, that it would take her home. He told her she must wear it tonight at Joffrey's wedding feast. The silver wire stretched tight across her knuckles. Her thumb rubbed back and forth against the hole where the stone had been. She tried to stop, but her fingers were not her own. Her thumb was drawn to the hole as the tongue is drawn to a missing tooth. What kind of magic? The king was dead, the cruel king who had been her gallant prince a thousand years ago. If Dontos had lied about the hairnet, had he lied about the rest as well? What if he never comes? What if there is no ship, no boat on the river, no escape? What would happen to her then?\\n\\nShe heard a faint rustle of leaves, and stuffed the silver hairnet down deep in the pocket of her cloak. \\\"Who's there?\\\" she cried. \\\"Who is it?\\\" The godswood was dim and dark, and the bells were ringing Joff into his grave.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Me.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He staggered out from under the trees, reeling drunk. He caught her arm to steady himself. \\\"Sweet Jonquil, I've come. Your Florian has come, don't be afraid.\\\"\\n\\nSansa pulled away from his touch. \\\"You said I must wear the hairnet. The silver net with... what sort of stones are those?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Amethysts. Black amethysts from Asshai, my lady.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They're no amethysts. Are they? Are they? You lied.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Black amethysts,\\\" he swore. \\\"There was magic in them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There was murder in them!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Softly, my lady, softly. No murder. He choked on his pigeon pie.\\\" Dontos chortled. \\\"Oh, tasty tasty pie. Silver and stones, that's all it was, silver and stone and magic.\\\"\\n\\nThe bells were tolling, and the wind was making a noise like he had made as he tried to suck a breath of air. \\\"You poisoned him. You did. You took a stone from my hair...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hush, you'll be the death of us. I did nothing. Come, we must away, they'll search for you. Your husband's been arrested.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tyrion?\\\" she said, shocked.\\n\\n\\\"Do you have another husband? The Imp, the dwarf uncle, she thinks he did it.\\\" He grabbed her hand and pulled at her. \\\"This way, we must away, quickly now, have no fear.\\\"\\n\\nSansa followed unresisting. I could never abide the weeping of women, Joff once said, but his mother was the only woman weeping now. In Old Nan's stories the grumkins crafted magic things that could make a wish come true. Did I wish him dead? she wondered, before she remembered that she was too old to believe in grumkins. \\\"Tyrion poisoned him?\\\" Her dwarf husband had hated his nephew, she knew. Could he truly have killed him? Did he know about my hairnet, about the black amethysts? He brought Joff wine. How could you make someone choke by putting an amethyst in their wine? If Tyrion did it, they will think I was part of it as well, she realized with a start of fear. How not? They were man and wife, and Joff had killed her father and mocked her with her brother's death. One flesh, one heart, one soul.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Be quiet now, my sweetling,\\\" said Dontos. \\\"Outside the godswood, we must make no sound. Pull up your hood and hide your face.\\\" Sansa nodded, and did as he said.\\n\\nHe was so drunk that sometimes Sansa had to lend him her arm to keep him from falling. The bells were ringing out across the city, more and more of them joining in. She kept her head down and stayed in the shadows, close behind Dontos. While descending the serpentine steps he stumbled to his knees and retched. My poor Florian, she thought, as he wiped his mouth with a floppy sleeve. Dress dark, he'd said, yet under his brown hooded cloak he was wearing his old surcoat; red and pink horizontal stripes beneath a black chief bearing three gold crowns, the arms of House Hollard. \\\"Why are you wearing your surcoat? Joff decreed it was death if you were caught dressed as a knight again, he... oh...\\\" Nothing Joff had decreed mattered any longer.\\n\\n\\\"I wanted to be a knight. For this, at least.\\\" Dontos lurched back to his feet and took her arm. \\\"Come. Be quiet now, no questions.\\\"\\n\\nThey continued down the serpentine and across a small sunken courtyard. Ser Dontos shoved open a heavy door and lit a taper. They were inside along gallery. Along the walls stood empty suits of armor, dark and dusty, their helms crested with rows of scales that continued down their backs. As they hurried past, the taper's light made the shadows of each scale stretch and twist. The hollow knights are turning into dragons, she thought.\\n\\nOne more stair took them to an oaken door banded with iron. \\\"Be strong now, my Jonquil, you are almost there.\\\" When Dontos lifted the bar and pulled open the door, Sansa felt a cold breeze on her face. She passed through twelve feet of wall, and then she was outside the castle, standing at the top of the cliff. Below was the river, above the sky, and one was as black as the other.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We must climb down,\\\" Ser Dontos said. \\\"At the bottom, a man is waiting to row us out to the ship.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll fall.\\\" Bran had fallen, and he had loved to climb.\\n\\n\\\"No you won't. There's a sort of ladder, a secret ladder, carved into the stone. Here, you can feel it, my lady.\\\" He got down on his knees with her and made her lean over the edge of the cliff, groping with her fingers until she found the handhold cut into the face of the bluff. \\\"Almost as good as rungs.\\\"\\n\\nEven so, it was along way down. \\\"I can't.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You must.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Isn't there another way?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is the way. It won't be so hard fora strong young girl like you. Hold on tight and never look down and you'll beat the bottom in no time at all.\\\" His eyes were shiny. \\\"Your poor Florian is fat and old and drunk, I'm the one should be afraid. I used to falloff my horse, don't you remember? That was how we began. I was drunk and fell off my horse and Joffrey wanted my fool head, but you saved me. You saved me, sweetling.\\\"\\n\\nHe's weeping, she realized. \\\"And now you have saved me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Only if you go. If not, I have killed us both.\\\"\\n\\nIt was him, she thought. He killed Joffrey. She had to go, for him as much as for herself. \\\"You go first, ser.\\\" If he did fall, she did not want him falling down on her head and knocking both of them off the cliff.\\n\\n\\\"As you wish, my lady.\\\" He gave her a sloppy kiss and swung his legs clumsily over the precipice, kicking about until he found a foothold. \\\"Let me get down a bit, and come after. You will come now? You must swear it.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I'll come,\\\" she promised.\\n\\nSer Dontos disappeared. She could hear him huffing and puffing as he began the descent. Sansa listened to the tolling of the bell, counting each ring. At ten, gingerly, she eased herself over the edge of the cliff, poking with her toes until they found a place to rest. The castle walls loomed large above her, and fora moment she wanted nothing so much as to pull herself up and run back to her warm rooms in the Kitchen Keep. Be brave, she told herself. Be brave, like a lady in a song.\\n\\nSansa dared not look down. She kept her eyes on the face of the cliff, making certain of each step before reaching for the next. The stone was rough and cold. Sometimes she could feel her fingers slipping, and the handholds were not as evenly spaced as she would have liked. The bells would not stop ringing. Before she was halfway down her arms were trembling and she knew that she was going to fall. One more step, she told herself, one more step. She had to keep moving. If she stopped, she would never start again, and dawn would find her still clinging to the cliff, frozen in fear. One more step, and one more step.\\n\\nThe ground took her by surprise. She stumbled and fell, her heart pounding. When she rolled onto her back and stared up at from where she had come, her head swam dizzily and her fingers clawed at the dirt. I did it. I did it, I didn't fall, I made the climb and now I'm going home.\\n\\nSer Dontos pulled her back onto her feet. \\\"This way. Quiet now, quiet, quiet.\\\" He stayed close to the shadows that lay black and thick beneath the cliffs. Thankfully they did not have to go far. Fifty yards downriver, a man satin a small skiff, half-hidden by the remains of a great galley that had gone aground there and burned. Dontos limped up to him, puffing. \\\"Oswell?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No names,\\\" the man said. \\\"In the boat.\\\" He sat hunched over his oars, an old man, tall and gangling, with long white hair and a great hooked nose, with eyes shaded by a cowl. \\\"Get in, be quick about it,\\\" he muttered. \\\"We need to be away.\\\"\\n\\nWhen both of them were safe aboard, the cowled man slid the blades into the water and put his back into the oars, rowing them out toward the channel. Behind them the bells were still tolling the boy king's death. They had the dark river all to themselves.\\n\\nWith slow, steady, rhythmic strokes, they threaded their way downstream, sliding above the sunken galleys, past broken masts, burned hulls, and torn sails. The oarlocks had been muffled, so they moved almost soundlessly. A mist was rising over the water. Sansa saw the embattled ramparts of one of the Imp's winch towers looming above, but the great chain had been lowered, and they rowed unimpeded past the spot where a thousand men had burned. The shore fell away, the fog grew thicker, the sound of the bells began to fade. Finally even the lights were gone, lost somewhere behind them. They were out in Blackwater Bay, and the world shrank to dark water, blowing mist, and their silent companion stooped over the oars. \\\"How far must we go?\\\" she asked.\\n\\n\\\"No talk.\\\" The oarsman was old, but stronger than he looked, and his voice was fierce. There was something oddly familiar about his face, though Sansa could not say what it was.\\n\\n\\\"Not far.\\\" Ser Dontos took her hand in his own and rubbed it gently. \\\"Your friend is near, waiting for you.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No talk!\\\" the oarsman growled again. \\\"Sound carries over water, Ser Fool.\\\"\\n\\nAbashed, Sansa bit her lip and huddled down in silence. The rest was rowing, rowing, rowing.\\n\\nThe eastern sky was vague with the first hint of dawn when Sansa finally saw a ghostly shape in the darkness ahead; a trading galley, her sails furled, moving slowly on a single bank of oars. As they drew closer, she saw the ship's figurehead, a merman with a golden crown blowing on a great seashell horn. She heard a voice cry out, and the galley swung slowly about.\\n\\nAs they came alongside, the galley dropped a rope ladder over the rail. The rower shipped the oars and helped Sansa to her feet. \\\"Up now. Goon, girl, I got you.\\\" Sansa thanked him for his kindness, but received no answer but a grunt. It was much easier going up the rope ladder than it had been coming down the cliff. The oarsman Oswell followed close behind her, while Ser Dontos remained in the boat.\\n\\nTwo sailors were waiting by the rail to help her onto the deck. Sansa was trembling. \\\"She's cold,\\\" she heard someone say. He took off his cloak and put it around her shoulders. \\\"There, is that better, my lady? Rest easy, the worst is past and done.\\\"\\n\\nShe knew the voice. But he's in the Vale, she thought. Ser Lothor Brune stood beside him with a torch.\\n\\n\\\"Lord Petyr,\\\" Dontos called from the boat. \\\"I must needs row back, before they think to look for me.\\\"\\n\\nPetyr Baelish put a hand on the rail. \\\"But first you'll want your payment. Ten thousand dragons, was it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Ten thousand.\\\" Dontos rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. \\\"As you promised, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ser Lothor, the reward.\\\"\\n\\nLothor Brune dipped his torch. Three men stepped to the gunwale, raised crossbows, fired. One bolt took Dontos in the chest as he looked up, punching through the left crown on his surcoat. The others ripped into throat and belly. It happened so quickly neither Dontos nor Sansa had time to cry out. When it was done, Lothor Brune tossed the torch down on top of the corpse. The little boat was blazing fiercely as the galley moved away.\\n\\n\\\"You killed him.\\\" Clutching the rail, Sansa turned away and retched. Had she escaped the Lannisters to tumble into worse?\\n\\n\\\"My lady,\\\" Littlefinger murmured, \\\"your grief is wasted on such a man as that. He was a sot, and no man's friend.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But he saved me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He sold you fora promise often thousand dragons. Your disappearance will make them suspect you in Joffrey's death. The gold cloaks will hunt, and the eunuch will jingle his purse. Dontos... well, you heard him. He sold you for gold, and when he'd drunk it up he would have sold you again. A bag of dragons buys a man's silence fora while, but a well-placed quarrel buys it forever.\\\" He smiled sadly. \\\"All he did he did at my behest. I dared not befriend you openly. When I heard how you saved his life at Joff's tourney, I knew he would be the perfect catspaw.\\\"\\n\\nSansa felt sick. \\\"He said he was my Florian.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Do you perchance recall what I said to you that day your father sat the Iron Throne?\\\"\\n\\nThe moment came back to her vividly. \\\"You told me that life was not a song. That I would learn that one day, to my sorrow.\\\" She felt tears in her eyes, but whether she wept for Ser Dontos Hollard, for Joff, for Tyrion, or for herself, Sansa could not say. \\\"Is it all lies, forever and ever, everyone and everything?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Almost everyone. Save you and I, of course.\\\" He smiled. \\\"Come to the godswood tonight if you want to go home.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The note... it was you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It had to be the godswood. No other place in the Red Keep is safe from the eunuch's little birds... or little rats, as I call them. There are trees in the godswood instead of walls. Sky above instead of ceiling. Roots and dirt and rock in place of floor. The rats have no place to scurry. Rats need to hide, lest men skewer them with swords.\\\" Lord Petyr took her arm. \\\"Let me show you to your cabin. You have had along and trying day, I know. You must be weary.\\\"\\n\\nAlready the little boat was no more than a swirl of smoke and fire behind them, almost lost in the immensity of the dawn sea. There was no going back; her only road was forward. \\\"Very weary,\\\" she admitted.\\n\\nAshe led her below, he said, \\\"Tell me of the feast. The queen took such pains. The singers, the jugglers, the dancing bear... did your little lord husband enjoy my jousting dwarfs?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yours?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I had to send to Braavos for them and hide them away in a brothel until the wedding. The expense was exceeded only by the bother. It is surprisingly difficult to hide a dwarf, and Joffrey... you can lead a king to water, but with Joff one had to splash it about before he realized he could drink it. When I told him about my little surprise, His Grace said, \\\"Why would I want some ugly dwarfs at my feast? I hate dwarfs.\\\" I had to take him by the shoulder and whisper, \\\"Not as much as your uncle will.\\\"\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The deck rocked beneath her feet, and Sansa felt as if the world itself had grown unsteady. \\\"They think Tyrion poisoned Joffrey. Ser Dontos said they seized him.\\\"\\n\\nLittlefinger smiled. \\\"Widowhood will become you, Sansa.\\\"\\n\\nThe thought made her tummy flutter. She might never need to share abed with Tyrion again. That was what she'd wanted... wasn't it?\\n\\nThe cabin was low and cramped, but a featherbed had been laid upon the narrow sleeping shelf to make it more comfortable, and thick furs piled atop it. \\\"It will be snug, I know, but you shouldn't be too uncomfortable.\\\" Littlefinger pointed out a cedar chest under the porthole. \\\"You'll find fresh garb within. Dresses, smallclothes, warm stockings, a cloak. Wool and linen only, I fear. Unworthy of a maid so beautiful, but they'll serve to keep you dry and clean until we can find you something finer.\\\"\\n\\nHe had this all prepared for me. \\\"My lord, I... I do not understand... Joffrey gave you Harrenhal, made you Lord Paramount of the Trident... why...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why should I wish him dead?\\\" Littlefinger shrugged. \\\"I had no motive. Besides, I am a thousand leagues away in the Vale. Always keep your foes confused. If they are never certain who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are like to do next. Sometimes the best way to baffle them is to make moves that have no purpose, or even seem to work against you. Remember that, Sansa, when you come to play the game.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What... what game?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The only game. The game of thrones.\\\" He brushed back a strand of her hair. \\\"You are old enough to know that your mother and I were more than friends. There was a time when Cat was all I wanted in this world. I dared to dream of the life we might make and the children she would give me... but she was a daughter of Riverrun, and Hoster Tully. Family, Duty, Honor, Sansa. Family, Duty, Honor meant I could never have her hand. But she gave me something finer, a gift a woman can give but once. How could I turn my back upon her daughter? Ina better world, you might have been mine, not Eddard Stark's. My loyal loving daughter... Put Joffrey from your mind, sweetling. Dontos, Tyrion, all of them. They will never trouble you again. You are safe now, that's all that matters. You are safe with me, and sailing home.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"JAIME\\n\\nThe king is dead, they told him, never knowing that Joffrey was his son as well as his sovereign.\\n\\n\\\"The Imp opened his throat with a dagger,\\\" a costermonger declared at the roadside inn where they spent the night. \\\"He drank his blood from a big gold chalice.\\\" The man did not recognize the bearded one-handed knight with the big baton his shield, no more than any of them, so he said things he might otherwise have swallowed, had he known who was listening.\\n\\n\\\"It was poison did the deed,\\\" the innkeep insisted. \\\"The boy's face turned black as a plum.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"May the Father judge him justly,\\\" murmured a septon.\\n\\n\\\"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him,\\\" swore an archer in Lord Rowan's livery. \\\"Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws.\\\"\\n\\nJaime sat silent through it all, letting the words wash over him, a horn of ale forgotten in his one good hand. Joffrey. My blood. My firstborn. My son. He tried to bring the boy's face to mind, but his features kept turning into Cersei's. She will be in mourning, her hair in disarray and her eyes red from crying, her mouth trembling as she tries to speak. She will cry again when she sees me, though she'll fight the tears. His sister seldom wept but when she was with him. She could not stand for others to think her weak. Only to her twin did she show her wounds. She will look tome for comfort and revenge.\\n\\nThey rode hard the next day, at Jaime's insistence. His son was dead, and his sister needed him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When he saw the city before him, its watchtowers dark against the gathering dusk, Jaime Lannister cantered up to Steelshanks Walton, behind Nage with the peace banner.\\n\\n\\\"What's that awful stink?\\\" the northman complained.\\n\\nDeath, thought Jaime, but he said, \\\"Smoke, sweat, and shit. King's Landing, in short. If you have a good nose you can smell the treachery too. You've never smelled a city before?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I smelled White Harbor. It never stank like this.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"White Harbor is to King's Landing as my brother Tyrion is to Ser Gregor Clegane.\\\"\\n\\nNage led them up a low hill, the seven-tailed peace banner lifting and turning in the wind, the polished seven-pointed star shining bright upon its staff. He would see Cersei soon, and Tyrion, and their father. Could my brother truly have killed the boy? Jaime found that hard to believe.\\n\\nHe was curiously calm. Men were supposed to go mad with grief when their children died, he knew. They were supposed to tear their hair out by the roots, to curse the gods and swear red vengeance. So why was it that he felt so little? The boy lived and died believing Robert Baratheon his sire.\\n\\nJaime had seen him born, that was true, though more for Cersei than the child. But he had never held him. \\\"How would it look?\\\" his sister warned him when the women finally left them. \\\"Bad enough Joff looks like you without you mooning over him.\\\" Jaime yielded with hardly a fight. The boy had been a squalling pink thing who demanded too much of Cersei's time, Cersei's love, and Cersei's breasts. Robert was welcome to him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And now he's dead. He pictured Joff lying still and cold with a face black from poison, and still felt nothing. Perhaps he was the monster they claimed. If the Father Above came down to offer him back his son or his hand, Jaime knew which he would choose. He had a second son, after all, and seed enough for many more. If Cersei wants another child I'll give her one... and this time I'll hold him, and the Others take those who do not like it. Robert was rotting in his grave, and Jaime was sick of lies.\\n\\nHe turned abruptly and galloped back to find Brienne. Gods know why I bother. She is the least companionable creature I've ever had the misfortune to meet. The wench rode well behind and a few feet off to the side, as if to proclaim that she was no part of them. They had found men's garb for her along the way; a tunic here, a mantle there, a pair of breeches and a cowled cloak, even an old iron breastplate. She looked more comfortable dressed as a man, but nothing would ever make her look handsome. Nor happy. Once out of Harrenhal, her usual pighead stubbornness had soon reasserted itself. \\\"I want my arms and armor back,\\\" she had insisted. \\\"Oh, by all means, let us have you back in steel,\\\" Jaime replied. \\\"A helm, especially. We'll all be happier if you keep your mouth shut and your visor down.\\\"\\n\\nThat much Brienne could do, but her sullen silences soon began to fray his good humor almost as much as Qyburn's endless attempts to be ingratiating. I never thought I would find myself missing the company of Cleos Frey, gods help me. He was beginning to wish he had left her for the bear after all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"King's Landing,\\\" Jaime announced when he found her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Our journey's done, my lady. You've kept your vow, and delivered me to King's Landing. All but a few fingers and a hand.\\\"\\n\\nBrienne's eyes were listless. \\\"That was only half my vow. I told Lady Catelyn I would bring her back her daughters. Or Sansa, at the least. And now...\\\"\\n\\nShe never met Robb Stark, yet her grief for him runs deeper than mine for Joff. Or perhaps it was Lady Catelyn she mourned. They had been at Brindlewood when they had that news, from a red-faced tub of a knight named Ser Bertram Beesbury, whose arms were three beehives on afield striped black and yellow. A troop of Lord Piper's men had passed through Brindlewood only yesterday, Beesbury told them, rushing to King's Landing beneath a peace banner of their own. \\\"With the Young Wolf dead Piper saw no point to fighting on. His son is captive at the Twins.\\\" Brienne gaped like a cow about to choke on her cud, so it fell to Jaime to draw out the tale of the Red Wedding.\\n\\n\\\"Every great lord has unruly bannermen who envy him his place,\\\" he told her afterward. \\\"My father had the Reynes and Tarbecks, the Tyrells have the Florents, Hoster Tully had Walder Frey. Only strength keeps such men in their place. The moment they smell weakness... during the Age of Heroes, the Boltons used to flay the Starks and wear their skins as cloaks.\\\" She looked so miserable that Jaime almost found himself wanting to comfort her.\\n\\nSince that day Brienne had been like one half-dead. Even calling her'wench\\\" failed to provoke any response. The strength is gone from her. The woman had dropped a rock on Robin Ryger, battled a bear with a tourney sword, bitten off Vargo Hoat's ear, and fought Jaime to exhaustion... but she was broken now, done. \\\"I'll speak to my father about returning you to Tarth, if it please you,\\\" he told her. \\\"Or if you would rather stay, I could perchance find someplace for you at court.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"As a lady companion to the queen?\\\" she said dully.\\n\\nJaime remembered the sight of her in that pink satin gown, and tried not to imagine what his sister might say of such a companion. \\\"Perhaps a post with the City Watch...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I will not serve with oathbreakers and murderers.\\\"\\n\\nThen why did you ever bother putting on a sword? he might have said, but he bit back the words. \\\"As you will, Brienne.\\\" One-handed, he wheeled his horse about and left her.\\n\\nThe Gate of the Gods was open when they reached it, but two dozen wayns were lined up along the roadside, loaded with casks of cider, barrels of apples, bales of hay, and some of the biggest pumpkins Jaime had ever seen. Almost every wagon had its guards; men-at-arms wearing the badges of small lordlings, sellswords in mail and boiled leather, sometimes only a pink-cheeked farmer's son clutching a homemade spear with afire-hardened point. Jaime smiled at them all as he trotted past. At the gate, the gold cloaks were collecting coin from each driver before waving the wagons through. \\\"What's this?\\\" Steelshanks demanded.\\n\\n\\\"They got to pay for the right to sell inside the city. By command of the King's Hand and the master of coin.\\\"\\n\\nJaime looked at the long line of wayns, carts, and laden horses. \\\"Yet they still lineup to pay?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There's good coin to be made here now that the fighting's done,\\\" the miller in the nearest wagon told them cheerfully. \\\"It's the Lannisters hold the city now, old Lord Tywin of the Rock. They say he shits silver.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gold,\\\" Jaime corrected dryly. \\\"And Littlefinger mints the stuff from goldenrod, I vow.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The Imp is master of coin now,\\\" said the captain of the gate.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Or was, till they arrested him for murdering the king.\\\" The man looked the northmen over suspiciously. \\\"Who are you lot?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lord Bolton's men, come to seethe King's Hand.\\\"\\n\\nThe captain glanced at Nage with his peace banner. \\\"Come to bend the knee, you mean. You're not the first. Go straight up to the castle, and see you make no trouble.\\\" He waved them through and turned back to the wagons.\\n\\nIf King's Landing mourned its dead boy king, Jaime would never have known it. On the Street of Seeds a begging brother in threadbare robes was praying loudly for Joffrey's soul, but the passersby paid him no more heed than they would a loose shutter banging in the wind. Elsewhere milled the usual crowds; gold cloaks in their blackmail, bakers' boys selling tarts and breads and hot pies, whores leaning out of windows with their bodices half unlaced, gutters redolent of nightsoil. They passed five men trying to drag a dead horse from the mouth of an alley, and elsewhere a juggler spinning knives through the air to delight a throng of drunken Tyrell soldiers and small children.\\n\\nRiding down familiar streets with two hundred northmen, a chainless maester, and an ugly freak of a woman at his side, Jaime found he scarcely drew a second look. He did not know whether he ought to be amused or annoyed. \\\"They do not know me,\\\" he said to Steelshanks as they rode through Cobbler's Square.\\n\\n\\\"Your face is changed, and your arms as well,\\\" the northman said, \\\"and they have anew Kingslayer now.\\\"\\n\\nThe gates to the Red Keep were open, but a dozen gold cloaks armed with pikes barred the way. They lowered their points as Steelshanks came trotting up, but Jaime recognized the white knight commanding them. \\\"Ser Meryn.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Meryn Trant's droopy eyes went wide. \\\"Ser Jaime?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How nice to be remembered. Move these men aside.\\\"\\n\\nIt had been along time since anyone had leapt to obey him quite so fast. Jaime had forgotten how well he liked it.\\n\\nThey found two more Kingsguard in the outer ward; two who had not worn white cloaks when Jaime last served here. How like Cersei to name me Lord Commander and then choose my colleagues without consulting me. \\\"Someone has given me two new brothers, I see,\\\" he said as he dismounted.\\n\\n\\\"We have that honor, ser.\\\" The Knight of Flowers shone so fine and pure in his white scales and silk that Jaime felt a tattered and tawdry thing by contrast.\\n\\nJaime turned to Meryn Trant. \\\"Ser, you've been remiss in teaching our new brothers their duties.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What duties?\\\" said Meryn Trant defensively.\\n\\n\\\"Keeping the king alive. How many monarchs have you lost since I left the city? Two, is it?\\\"\\n\\nThen Ser Balon saw the stump. \\\"Your hand...\\\"\\n\\nJaime made himself smile. \\\"I fight with my left now. It makes for more of a contest. Where will I find my lord father?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In the solar with Lord Tyrell and Prince Oberyn.\\\"\\n\\nMace Tyrell and the Red Viper breaking bread together? Strange and stranger. \\\"Is the queen with them as well?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, my lord,\\\" Ser Balon answered. \\\"You'll find her in the sept, praying over King Joff-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You!\\\"\\n\\nThe last of the northmen had dismounted, Jaime saw, and now Loras Tyrell had seen Brienne.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Ser Loras.\\\" She stood stupidly, holding her bridle.\\n\\nLoras Tyrell strode toward her. \\\"Why?\\\" he said. \\\"You will tell me why. He treated you kindly, gave you a rainbow cloak. Why would you kill him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I never did. I would have died for him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You will.\\\" Ser Loras drew his longsword.\\n\\n\\\"It was not me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Emmon Cuy swore it was, with his dying breath.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He was outside the tent, he never saw-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There was no one in the tent but you and Lady Stark. Do you claim that old woman could cut through hardened steel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There was a shadow. I know how mad it sounds, but... I was helping Renly into his armor, and the candles blew out and there was blood everywhere. It was Stannis, Lady Catelyn said. His... his shadow. I had no part in it, on my honor...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have no honor. Draw your sword. I won't have it said that I slew you while your hand was empty.\\\"\\n\\nJaime stepped between them. \\\"Put the sword away, ser.\\\"\\n\\nSer Loras edged around him. \\\"Are you a craven as well as a killer, Brienne? Is that why you ran, with his blood on your hands? Draw your sword, woman!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Best hope she doesn't.\\\" Jaime blocked his path again. \\\"Or it's like to be your corpse we carryout. The wench is as strong as Gregor Clegane, though not so pretty.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is no concern of yours.\\\" Ser Loras shoved him aside.\\n\\nJaime grabbed the boy with his good hand and yanked him around. \\\"I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, you arrogant pup. Your commander, so long as you wear that white cloak. Now sheathe your bloody sword, or I'll take it from you and shove it up someplace even Renly never found.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The boy hesitated half a heartbeat, long enough for Ser Balon Swann to say, \\\"Do as the Lord Commander says, Loras.\\\" Some of the gold cloaks drew their steel then, and that made some Dreadfort men do the same. Splendid, thought Jaime, no sooner do I climb down off my horse than we have a bloodbath in the yard.\\n\\nSer Loras Tyrell slammed his sword back into its sheath.\\n\\n\\\"That wasn't so difficult, was it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want her arrested.\\\" Ser Loras pointed. \\\"Lady Brienne, I charge you with the murder of Lord Renly Baratheon.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"For what it's worth,\\\" said Jaime, \\\"the wench does have honor. More than I have seen from you. And it may even be she's telling it true. I'll grant you, she's not what you'd call clever, but even my horse could come up with a better lie, if it was a lie she meant to tell. As you insist, however... Ser Balon, escort Lady Brienne to a tower cell and hold her thereunder guard. And find some suitable quarters for Steelshanks and his men, until such time as my father can see them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, my lord.\\\"\\n\\nBrienne's big blue eyes were full of hurt as Balon Swann and a dozen gold cloaks led her away. You ought to be blowing me kisses, wench, he wanted to tell her. Why must they misunderstand every bloody thing he did? Aerys. It all grows from Aerys. Jaime turned his back on the wench and strode across the yard.\\n\\nAnother knight in white armor was guarding the doors of the royal sept; a tall man with a black beard, broad shoulders, and a hooked nose. When he saw Jaime he gave a sour smile and said, \\\"And where do you think you're going?\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2284,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 64"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The boy hesitated half a heartbeat, long enough for Ser Balon Swann to say, \"Do as the Lord Commander says, Loras.\" Some of the gold cloaks drew their steel then, and that made some Dreadfort men do the same. Splendid, thought Jaime, no sooner do I climb down off my horse than we have a bloodbath in the yard.\n\nSer Loras Tyrell slammed his sword back into its sheath.\n\n\"That wasn't so difficult, was it?\"\n\n\"I want her arrested.\" Ser Loras pointed. \"Lady Brienne, I charge you with the murder of Lord Renly Baratheon.\"\n\n\"For what it's worth,\" said Jaime, \"the wench does have honor. More than I have seen from you. And it may even be she's telling it true. I'll grant you, she's not what you'd call clever, but even my horse could come up with a better lie, if it was a lie she meant to tell. As you insist, however... Ser Balon, escort Lady Brienne to a tower cell and hold her thereunder guard. And find some suitable quarters for Steelshanks and his men, until such time as my father can see them.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\"\n\nBrienne's big blue eyes were full of hurt as Balon Swann and a dozen gold cloaks led her away. You ought to be blowing me kisses, wench, he wanted to tell her. Why must they misunderstand every bloody thing he did? Aerys. It all grows from Aerys. Jaime turned his back on the wench and strode across the yard.\n\nAnother knight in white armor was guarding the doors of the royal sept; a tall man with a black beard, broad shoulders, and a hooked nose. When he saw Jaime he gave a sour smile and said, \"And where do you think you're going?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Into the sept.\" Jaime lifted his stump to point. \"That one right there. I mean to seethe queen.\"\n\n\"Her Grace is in mourning. And why would she be wanting to seethe likes of you?\"\n\nBecause I'm her lover, and the father of her murdered son, he wanted to say. \"Who in seven hells are you?\"\n\n\"A knight of the Kingsguard, and you'd best learn some respect, cripple, or I'll have that other hand and leave you to suck up your porridge of a morning.\"\n\n\"I am the queen's brother, ser.\"\n\nThe white knight thought that funny. \"Escaped, have you? And grown a bit as well, m'lord?\"\n\n\"Her other brother, dolt. And the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Now stand aside, or you'll wish you had.\"\n\nThe dolt took along look this time. \"Is it... Ser Jaime.\" He straightened. \"My pardons, milord. I did not know you. I have the honor to be Ser Osmund Kettleblack.\"\n\nWhere's the honor in that? \"I want sometime alone with my sister. See that no one else enters the sept, ser. If we're disturbed, I'll have your bloody head.\"\n\n\"Aye, ser. As you say.\" Ser Osmund opened the door.\n\nCersei was kneeling before the altar of the Mother. Joffrey's bier had been laid out beneath the Stranger, who led the newly dead to the other world. The smell of incense hung heavy in the air, and a hundred candles burned, sending up a hundred prayers. Joff's like to need everyone of them, too.\n\nHis sister looked over her shoulder. \"Who?\" she said, then, \"Jaime?\" She rose, her eyes brimming with tears. \"Is it truly you?\" She did not come to him, however. She has never come tome, he thought. She has always waited, letting me come to her. She gives, but I must ask. \"You should have come sooner,\" she murmured, when he took her in his arms. \"Why couldn't you have come sooner, to keep him safe? My boy...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Our boy. \"I came as fast I could.\" He broke from the embrace, and stepped back apace. \"It's war out there, Sister.\"\n\n\"You look so thin. And your hair, your golden hair...\"\n\n\"The hair will grow back.\" Jaime lifted his stump. She needs to see. \"This won't.\"\n\nHer eyes went wide. \"The Starks...\"\n\n\"No. This was Vargo Hoat's work.\"\n\nThe name meant nothing to her. \"Who?\"\n\n\"The Goat of Harrenhal. Fora little while.\"\n\nCersei turned to gaze at Joffrey's bier. They had dressed the dead king in gilded armor, eerily similar to Jaime's own. The visor of the helm was closed, but the candles reflected softly off the gold, so the boy shimmered bright and brave in death. The candlelight woke fires in the rubies that decorated the bodice of Cersei's mourning dress as well. Her hair fell to her shoulders, undressed and unkempt. \"He killed him, Jaime. Just as he'd warned me. One day when I thought myself safe and happy he would turn my joy to ashes in my mouth, he said.\"\n\n\"Tyrion said that?\" Jaime had not wanted to believe it. Kinslaying was worse than kingslaying, in the eyes of gods and men. He knew the boy was mine. I loved Tyrion. I was good to him. Well, but for that onetime... but the Imp did not know the truth of that. Or did he? \"Why would he kill Joff?\"\n\n\"Fora whore.\" She clutched his good hand and held it tight in hers. \"He told me he was going to do it. Joff knew. Ashe was dying, he pointed at his murderer. At our twisted little monster of a brother.\" She kissed Jaime's fingers. \"You'll kill him for me, won't you? You'll avenge our son.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jaime pulled away. \"He is still my brother.\" He shoved his stump at her face, in case she failed to see it. \"And I am in no fit state to be killing anyone.\"\n\n\"You have another hand, don't you? I am not asking you to best the Hound in battle. Tyrion is a dwarf, locked in a cell. The guards would stand aside for you.\"\n\nThe thought turned his stomach. \"I must know more of this. Of how it happened.\"\n\n\"You shall,\" Cersei promised. \"There's to be atrial. When you hear all he did, you'll want him dead as much as I do.\" She touched his face. \"I was lost without you, Jaime. I was afraid the Starks would send me your head. I could not have borne that.\" She kissed him. Alight kiss, the merest brush of her lips on his, but he could feel her tremble as he slid his arms around her. \"I am not whole without you.\"\n\nThere was no tenderness in the kiss he returned to her, only hunger. Her mouth opened for his tongue. \"No,\" she said weakly when his lips moved down her neck, \"not here. The septons...\"\n\n\"The Others can take the septons.\" He kissed her again, kissed her silent, kissed her until she moaned. Then he knocked the candles aside and lifted her up onto the Mother's altar, pushing up her skirts and the silken shift beneath. She pounded on his chest with feeble fists, murmuring about the risk, the danger, about their father, about the septons, about the wrath of gods. He never heard her. He undid his breeches and climbed up and pushed her bare white legs apart. One hand slid up her thigh and underneath her smallclothes. When he tore them away, he saw that her moon's blood was on her, but it made no difference."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Hurry,\" she was whispering now, \"quickly, quickly, now, do it now, dome now. Jaime Jaime Jaime.\" Her hands helped guide him. \"Yes,\" Cersei said as he thrust, \"my brother, sweet brother, yes, like that, yes, I have you, you're home now, you're home now, you're home.\" She kissed his ear and stroked his short bristly hair. Jaime lost himself in her flesh. He could feel Cersei's heart beating in time with his own, and the wetness of blood and seed where they were joined.\n\nBut no sooner were they done than the queen said, \"Let me up. If we are discovered like this...\"\n\nReluctantly he rolled away and helped her off the altar. The pale marble was smeared with blood. Jaime wiped it clean with his sleeve, then bent to pickup the candles he had knocked over. Fortunately they had all gone out when they fell. If the sept had caught fire I might never have noticed.\n\n\"This was folly.\" Cersei pulled her gown straight. \"With Father in the castle... Jaime, we must be careful.\"\n\n\"I am sick of being careful. The Targaryens wed brother to sister, why shouldn't we do the same? Marry me, Cersei. Stand up before the realm and say it's me you want. We'll have our own wedding feast, and make another son in place of Joffrey.\"\n\nShe drew back. \"That's not funny.\"\n\n\"Do you hear me chuckling?\"\n\n\"Did you leave your wits at Riverrun?\" Her voice had an edge to it. \"Tommen's throne derives from Robert, you know that.\"\n\n\"He'll have Casterly Rock, isn't that enough? Let Father sit the throne. All I want is you.\" He made to touch her cheek. Old habits die hard, and it was his right arm he lifted."},{"from":"human","value":"Cersei recoiled from his stump."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Don't... don't talk like this. You're scaring me, Jaime. Don't be stupid. One wrong word and you'll cost us everything. What did they do to you?\"\n\n\"They cutoff my hand.\"\n\n\"No, it's more, you're changed.\" She backed off a step. \"We'll talk later. On the morrow. I have Sansa Stark's maids in a tower cell, I need to question them... you should go to Father.\"\n\n\"I crossed a thousand leagues to come to you, and lost the best part of me along the way. Don't tell me to leave.\"\n\n\"Leave me,\" she repeated, turning away.\n\nJaime laced up his breeches and did as she commanded. Weary as he was, he could not seek abed. By now his lord father knew that he was back in the city.\n\nThe Tower of the Hand was guarded by Lannister household guards, who knew him at once. \"The gods are good, to give you back to us, ser,\" one said, as he held the door.\n\n\"The gods had no part in it. Catelyn Stark gave me back. Her, and the Lord of the Dreadfort.\"\n\nHe climbed the stairs and pushed into the solar unannounced, to find his father sitting by the fire. Lord Tywin was alone, for which Jaime was thankful. He had no desire to flaunt his maimed hand for Mace Tyrell or the Red Viper just now, much less the two of them together.\n\n\"Jaime,\" Lord Tywin said, as if they'd last seen each other at breakfast. \"Lord Bolton led me to expect you earlier. I had hoped you'd be here for the wedding.\"\n\n\"I was delayed.\" Jaime closed the door softly. \"My sister outdid herself, I'm told. Seventy-seven courses and a regicide, never a wedding like it. How long have you known I was free?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The eunuch told me a few days after your escape. I sent men into the riverlands to look for you. Gregor Clegane, Samwell Spicer, the brothers Plumm. Varys putout the word as well, but quietly. We agreed that the fewer people who knew you were free, the fewer would be hunting you.\"\n\n\"Did Varys mention this?\" He moved closer to the fire, to let his father see.\n\nLord Tywin pushed himself out of his chair, breath hissing between his teeth. \"Who did this? If Lady Catelyn thinks-\"\n\n\"Lady Catelyn held a sword to my throat and made me swear to return her daughters. This was your goat's work. Vargo Hoat, the Lord of Harrenhal!\"\n\nLord Tywin looked away, disgusted. \"No longer. Ser Gregor's taken the castle. The sellswords deserted their erstwhile captain almost to a man, and some of Lady Whent's old people opened a postern gate. Clegane found Hoat sitting alone in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, half-mad with pain and fever from a wound that festered. His ear, I'm told.\"\n\nJaime had to laugh. Too sweet! His ear! He could scarcely wait to tell Brienne, though the wench wouldn't find it half so funny as he did. \"Is he dead yet?\"\n\n\"Soon. They have taken off his hands and feet, but Clegane seems amused by the way the Qohorik slobbers.\"\n\nJaime's smile curdled. \"What about his Brave Companions?\"\n\n\"The few who stayed at Harrenhal are dead. The others scattered. They'll make for ports, I'll warrant, or try and lose themselves in the woods.\" His eyes went back to Jaime's stump, and his mouth grew taut with fury. \"We'll have their heads. Everyone. Can you use a sword with your left hand?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I can hardly dress myself in the morning. Jaime held up the hand in question for his father's inspection. \"Four fingers, a thumb, much like the other. Why shouldn't it work as well?\"\n\n\"Good.\" His father sat. \"That is good. I have a gift for you. For your return. After Varys told me...\"\n\n\"Unless it's anew hand, let it wait.\" Jaime took the chair across from him. \"How did Joffrey die?\"\n\n\"Poison. It was meant to appear as though he choked on a morsel of food, but I had his throat slit open and the maesters could find no obstruction.\"\n\n\"Cersei claims that Tyrion did it.\"\n\n\"Your brother served the king the poisoned wine, with a thousand people looking on.\"\n\n\"That was rather foolish of him.\"\n\n\"I have taken Tyrion's squire into custody. His wife's maids as well. We shall see if they have anything to tell us. Ser Addam's gold cloaks are searching for the Stark girl, and Varys has offered a reward. The king's justice will be done.\"\n\nThe king's justice. \"You would execute your own son?\"\n\n\"He stands accused of regicide and kinslaying. If he is innocent, he has nothing to fear. First we must needs consider the evidence for and against him.\"\n\nEvidence. In this city of liars, Jaime knew what sort of evidence would be found. \"Renly died strangely as well, when Stannis needed him to.\"\n\n\"Lord Renly was murdered by one of his own guards, some woman from Tarth.\"\n\n\"That woman from Tarth is the reason I'm here. I tossed her into a cell to appease Ser Loras, but I'll believe in Renly's ghost before I believe she did him any harm. But Stannis-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It was poison that killed Joffrey, not sorcery.\" Lord Tywin glanced at Jaime's stump again. \"You cannot serve in the Kingsguard without a sword hand-\"\n\n\"I can,\" he interrupted. \"And I will. There's precedent. I'll look in the White Book and find it, if you like. Crippled or whole, a knight of the Kingsguard serves for life.\"\n\n\"Cersei ended that when she replaced Ser Barristan on grounds of age. A suitable gift to the Faith will persuade the High Septon to release you from your vows. Your sister was foolish to dismiss Selmy, admittedly, but now that she has opened the gates-\"\n\n\"-someone needs to close them again.\" Jaime stood. \"I am tired of having highborn women kicking pails of shit at me, Father. No one ever asked me if I wanted to be Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, but it seems I am. I have a duty-\"\n\n\"You do.\" Lord Tywin rose as well. \"A duty to House Lannister. You are the heir to Casterly Rock. That is where you should be. Tommen should accompany you, as your ward and squire. The Rock is where he'll learn to be a Lannister, and I want him away from his mother. I mean to find anew husband for Cersei. Oberyn Martell perhaps, once I convince Lord Tyrell that the match does not threaten Highgarden. And it is past time you were wed. The Tyrells are now insisting that Margaery be wed to Tommen, but if I were to offer you instead-\"\n\n\"NO!\" Jaime had heard all that he could stand. No, more than he could stand. He was sick of it, sick of lords and lies, sick of his father, his sister, sick of the whole bloody business. \"No. No. No. No. No. How many times must I say no before you'll hear it? Oberyn Martell? The man's infamous, and not just for poisoning his sword. He has more bastards than Robert, and beds with boys as well. And if you think for one misbegotten moment that I would wed Joffrey's widow...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Lord Tyrell swears the girl's still maiden.\"\n\n\"She can die a maiden as far as I'm concerned. I don't want her, and I don't want your Rock!\"\n\n\"You are my son-\"\n\n\"I am a knight of the Kingsguard. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard! And that's all I mean to be!\"\n\nFirelight gleamed golden in the stiff whiskers that framed Lord Tywin's face. A vein pulsed in his neck, but he did not speak. And did not speak. And did not speak.\n\nThe strained silence went on until it was more than Jaime could endure. \"Father...\" he began.\n\n\"You are not my son.\" Lord Tywin turned his face away. \"You say you are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and only that. Very well, ser. Go do your duty.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"DAVOS\n\nTheir voices rose like cinders, swirling up into purple evening sky. \"Lead us from the darkness, O my Lord. Fill our hearts with fire, so we may walk your shining path.\"\n\nThe nightfire burned against the gathering dark, a great bright beast whose shifting orange light threw shadows twenty feet tall across the yard. All along the walls of Dragonstone the army of gargoyles and grotesques seemed to stir and shift.\n\nDavos looked down from an arched window in the gallery above. He watched Melisandre lift her arms, as if to embrace the shivering flames. \"R'hllor,\" she sang in a voice loud and clear, \"you are the light in our eyes, the fire in our hearts, the heat in our loins. Yours is the sun that warms our days, yours the stars that guard us in the dark of night.\"\n\n\"Lord of Light, defend us. The night is dark and full of terrors.\" Queen Selyse led the responses, her pinched face full of fervor. King Stannis stood beside her, jaw clenched hard, the points of his red-gold crown shimmering whenever he moved his head. He is with them, but not of them, Davos thought. Princess Shireen was between them, the mottled grey patches on her face and neck almost black in the firelight.\n\n\"Lord of Light, protect us,\" the queen sang. The king did not respond with the others. He was staring into the flames. Davos wondered what he saw there. Another vision of the war to come? Or something closer to home?\n\n\"R'hllor who gave us breath, we thank you,\" sang Melisandre. \"R'hllor who gave us day, we thank you.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We thank you for the sun that warms us,\" Queen Selyse and the other worshipers replied. \"We thank you for the stars that watch us. We thank you for our hearths and for our torches, that keep the savage dark at bay.\" There were fewer voices saying the responses than there had been the night before, it seemed to Davos; fewer faces flushed with orange light about the fire. But would there be fewer still on the morrow... or more?\n\nThe voice of Ser Axell Florent rang loud as a trumpet. He stood barrel-chested and bandy-legged, the firelight washing his face like a monstrous orange tongue. Davos wondered if Ser Axell would thank him, after. The work they did tonight might well make him the King's Hand, as he dreamed.\n\nMelisandre cried, \"We thank you for Stannis, by your grace our king. We thank you for the pure white fire of his goodness, for the red sword of justice in his hand, for the love he bears his leal people. Guide him and defend him, R'hllor, and grant him strength to smite his foes.\"\n\n\"Grant him strength,\" answered Queen Selyse, Ser Axell, Devan, and the rest. \"Grant him courage. Grant him wisdom.\"\n\nWhen he was a boy, the septons had taught Davos to pray to the Crone for wisdom, to the Warrior for courage, to the Smith for strength. But it was the Mother he prayed to now, to keep his sweet son Devan safe from the red woman's demon god.\n\n\"Lord Davos? We'd best be about it.\" Ser Andrew touched his elbow gently. \"My lord?\"\n\nThe title still rang queer in his ears, yet Davos turned away from the window. \"Aye. It's time.\" Stannis, Melisandre, and the queen's men would beat their prayers an hour or more. The red priests lit their fires everyday at sunset, to thank R'hllor for the day just ending, and beg him to send his sun back on the morrow to banish the gathering darkness. A smuggler must know the tides and when to seize them. That was all he was at the end of the day; Davos the smuggler. His maimed hand rose to his throat for his luck, and found nothing. He snatched it down and walked a bit more quickly."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"His companions kept pace, matching their strides to his own. The Bastard of Nightsong had a pox-ravaged face and an air of tattered chivalry; Ser Gerald Gower was broad, bluff, and blond; Ser Andrew Estermont stood ahead taller, with a spade-shaped beard and shaggy brown eye-brows. They were all good men in their own ways, Davos thought. And they will all be dead men soon, if this night's work goes badly.\n\n\"Fire is a living thing,\" the red woman told him, when he asked her to teach him how to seethe future in the flames. \"It is always moving, always changing... like a book whose letters dance and shift even as you try to read them. It takes years of training to seethe shapes beyond the flames, and more years still to learn to tell the shapes of what will be from what maybe or what was. Even then it comes hard, hard. You do not understand that, you men of the sunset lands.\" Davos asked her then how it was that Ser Axell had learned the trick of it so quickly, but to that she only smiled enigmatically and said, \"Any cat may stare into afire and see red mice at play.\"\n\nHe had not lied to his king's men, about that or any of it. \"The red woman may see what we intend,\" he warned them.\n\n\"We should start by killing her, then,\" urged Lewys the Fishwife. \"I know a place where we could waylay her, four of us with sharp swords...\"\n\n\"You'd doom us all,\" said Davos. \"Maester Cressen tried to kill her, and she knew at once. From her flames, I'd guess. It seems tome that she is very quick to sense any threat to her own person, but surely she cannot see everything. If we ignore her, perhaps we might escape her notice.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"There is no honor in hiding and sneaking,\" objected Ser Triston of Tally Hill, who had been a Sunglass man before Lord Guncer went to Melisandre's fires.\n\n\"Is it so honorable to burn?\" Davos asked him. \"You saw Lord Sunglass die. Is that what you want? I don't need men of honor now. I need smugglers. Are you with me, or no?\"\n\nThey were. Gods be good, they were.\n\nMaester Pylos was leading Edric Storm through his sums when Davos pushed open the door. Ser Andrew was close behind him; the others had been left to guard the steps and cellar door. The maester broke off. \"That will be enough for now, Edric.\"\n\nThe boy was puzzled by the intrusion. \"Lord Davos, Ser Andrew. We were doing sums.\"\n\nSer Andrew smiled. \"I hated sums when I was your age, coz.\"\n\n\"I don't mind them so much. I like history best, though. It's full of tales.\"\n\n\"Edric,\" said Maester Pylos, \"run and get your cloak now. You're to go with Lord Davos.\"\n\n\"I am?\" Edric got to his feet. \"Where are we going?\" His mouth set stubbornly. \"I won't go pray to the Lord of Light. I am a Warrior's man, like my father.\"\n\n\"We know,\" Davos said. \"Come, lad, we must not dawdle.\"\n\nEdric donned a thick hooded cloak of undyed wool. Maester Pylos helped him fasten it, and pulled the hood up to shadow his face. \"Are you coming with us, Maester?\" the boy asked."},{"from":"human","value":"\"No.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Pylos touched the chain of many metals he wore about his neck. \"My place is hereon Dragonstone. Go with Lord Davos now, and do as he says. He is the King's Hand, remember. What did I tell you about the King's Hand?\"\n\n\"The Hand speaks with the king's voice.\"\n\nThe young maester smiled. \"That's so. Go now.\"\n\nDavos had been uncertain of Pylos. Perhaps he resented him for taking old Cressen's place. But now he could only admire the man's courage. This could mean his life as well.\n\nOutside the maester's chambers, Ser Gerald Gower waited by the steps. Edric Storm looked at him curiously. As they made their descent he asked, \"Where are we going, Lord Davos?\"\n\n\"To the water. A ship awaits you.\"\n\nThe boy stopped suddenly. \"A ship?\"\n\n\"One of Salladhor Saan's. Salla is a good friend of mine.\"\n\n\"I shall go with you, Cousin,\" Ser Andrew assured him. \"There's nothing to be frightened of.\"\n\n\"I am not frightened,\" Edric said indignantly. \"Only... is Shireen coming too?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Davos. \"The princess must remain herewith her father and mother.\"\n\n\"I have to see her then,\" Edric explained. \"To say my farewells. Otherwise she'll be sad.\"\n\nNot so sad as if she sees you burn. \"There is no time,\" Davos said. \"I will tell the princess that you were thinking of her. And you can write her, when you get to where you're going.\"\n\nThe boy frowned. \"Are you sure I must go? Why would my uncle send me from Dragonstone? Did I displease him? I never meant to.\" He got that stubborn look again. \"I want to see my uncle. I want to see King Stannis.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Ser Andrew and Ser Gerald exchanged a look."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"There's no time for that, Cousin,\" Ser Andrew said.\n\n\"I want to see him!\" Edric insisted, louder.\n\n\"He does not want to see you.\" Davos had to say something, to get the boy moving. \"I am his Hand, I speak with his voice. Must I go to the king and tell him that you would not do as you were told? Do you know how angry that will make him? Have you ever seen your uncle angry?\" He pulled off his glove and showed the boy the four fingers that Stannis had shortened. \"I have.\"\n\nIt was all lies; there had been no anger in Stannis Baratheon when he cut the ends off his onion knight's fingers, only an iron sense of justice. But Edric Storm had not been born then, and could not know that. And the threat had the desired effect. \"He should not have done that,\" the boy said, but he let Davos take him by the hand and draw him down the steps.\n\nThe Bastard of Nightsong joined them at the cellar door. They walked quickly, across a shadowed yard and down some steps, under the stone tail of a frozen dragon. Lewys the Fishwife and Omer Blackberry waited at the postern gate, two guards bound and trussed at their feet. \"The boat?\" Davos asked them.\n\n\"It's there,\" Lewys said. \"Four oarsmen. The galley is anchored just past the point. Mad Prendos.\"\n\nDavos chuckled. A ship named after a madman. Yes, that's fitting. Salla had a streak of the pirate's black humor.\n\nHe went to one knee before Edric Storm. \"I must leave you now,\" he said. \"There's a boat waiting, to row you out to a galley. Then it's off across the sea. You are Robert's son so I know you will be brave, no matter what happens.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I will. Only...\" The boy hesitated.\n\n\"Think of this as an adventure, my lord.\" Davos tried to sound hale and cheerful. \"It's the start of your life's great adventure. May the Warrior defend you.\"\n\n\"And may the Father judge you justly, Lord Davos.\" The boy went with his cousin Ser Andrew out the postern gate. The others followed, all but the Bastard of Nightsong. May the Father judge me justly, Davos thought ruefully. But it was the king's judgment that concerned him now.\n\n\"These two?\" asked Ser Rolland of the guards, when he had closed and barred the gate.\n\n\"Drag them into a cellar,\" said Davos. \"You can cut them free when Edric's safely underway.\"\n\nThe Bastard gave a curt nod. There were no more words to say; the easy part was done. Davos pulled his glove on, wishing he had not lost his luck. He had been a better man and a braver one with that bag of bones around his neck. He ran his shortened fingers through thinning brown hair, and wondered if it needed to be cut. He must look presentable when he stood before the king.\n\nDragonstone had never seemed so dark and fearsome. He walked slowly, his footsteps echoing off black walls and dragons. Stone dragons who will never wake, I pray. The Stone Drum loomed huge ahead of him. The guards at the door uncrossed their spears as he approached. Not for the onion knight, but for the King's Hand. Davos was the Hand going in, at least. He wondered what he would becoming out. If I ever do...\n\nThe steps seemed longer and steeper than before, or perhaps it was just that he was tired. The Mother never made me for tasks like this. He had risen too high and too fast, and up hereon the mountain the air was too thin for him to breathe. As a boy he'd dreamed of riches, but that was long ago. Later, grown, all he had wanted was a few acres of good land, a hall to grow old in, a better life for his sons. The Blind Bastard used to tell him that a clever smuggler did not overreach, nor draw too much attention to himself. A few acres, a timbered roof, a'ser\" before my name, I should have been content. If he survived this night, he would take Devan and sail home to Cape Wrath and his gentle Marya. We will grieve together for our dead sons, raise the living ones to be good men, and speak no more of kings."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Chamber of the Painted Table was dark and empty when Davos entered; the king would still beat the nightfire, with Melisandre and the queen's men. He knelt and made afire in the hearth, to drive the chill from the round chamber and chase the shadows back into their corners. Then he went around the room to each window in turn, opening the heavy velvet curtains and unlatching the wooden shutters. The wind came in, strong with the smell of salt and sea, and pulled at his plain brown cloak.\n\nAt the north window, he leaned against the sill fora breath of the cold night air, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mad Prendos raising sail, but the sea seemed black and empty as far as the eye could see. Is she gone already? He could only pray that she was, and the boy with her. A half moon was sliding in and out amongst thin high clouds, and Davos could see familiar stars. There was the Galley, sailing west; there the Crone's Lantern, four bright stars that enclosed a golden haze. The clouds hid most of the Ice Dragon, all but the bright blue eye that marked due north. The sky is full of smugglers\" stars. They were old friends, those stars; Davos hoped that meant good luck.\n\nBut when he lowered his gaze from the sky to the castle ramparts, he was not so certain. The wings of the stone dragons cast great black shadows in the light from the nightfire. He tried to tell himself that they were no more than carvings, cold and lifeless. This was their place, once. A place of dragons and dragonlords, the seat of House Targaryen. The Targaryens were the blood of old Valyria...\n\nThe wind sighed through the chamber, and in the hearth the flames gusted and swirled. He listened to the logs crackle and spit. When Davos left the window his shadow went before him, tall and thin, and fell across the Painted Table like a sword. And there he stood fora longtime, waiting. He heard their boots on the stone steps as they ascended. The king's voice went before him. \"... is not three,\" he was saying."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Three is three,\" came Melisandre's answer."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I swear to you, Your Grace, I saw him die and heard his mother's wail.\"\n\n\"In the nightfire.\" Stannis and Melisandre came through the door together. \"The flames are full of tricks. What is, what will be, what maybe. You cannot tell me fora certainty...\"\n\n\"Your Grace.\" Davos stepped forward. \"Lady Melisandre saw it true. Your nephew Joffrey is dead.\"\n\nIf the king was surprised to find him at the Painted Table, he gave no sign. \"Lord Davos,\" he said. \"He was not my nephew. Though for years I believed he was.\"\n\n\"He choked on a morsel of food at his wedding feast,\" Davos said. \"It maybe that he was poisoned.\"\n\n\"He is the third,\" said Melisandre.\n\n\"I can count, woman.\" Stannis walked along the table, past Oldtown and the Arbor, up toward the Shield Islands and the mouth of the Mander. \"Weddings have become more perilous than battles, it would seem. Who was the poisoner? Is it known?\"\n\n\"His uncle, it's said. The Imp.\"\n\nStannis ground his teeth. \"A dangerous man. I learned that on the Blackwater. How do you come by this report?\"\n\n\"The Lyseni still trade at King's Landing. Salladhor Saan has no reason to lie tome.\"\n\n\"I suppose not.\" The king ran his fingers across the table. \"Joffrey... I remember once, this kitchen cat... the cooks were wont to feed her scraps and fish heads. One told the boy that she had kittens in her belly, thinking he might want one. Joffrey opened up the poor thing with a dagger to see if it were true. When he found the kittens, he brought them to show to his father. Robert hit the boy so hard I thought he'd killed him.\" The king took off his crown and placed it on the table. \"Dwarf or leech, this killer served the kingdom well. They must send for me now.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"They will not,\" said Melisandre."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Joffrey has a brother.\"\n\n\"Tommen.\" The king said the name grudgingly.\n\n\"They will crown Tommen, and rule in his name.\"\n\nStannis made a fist. \"Tommen is gentler than Joffrey, but born of the same incest. Another monster in the making. Another leech upon the land. Westeros needs a man's hand, not a child's.\"\n\nMelisandre moved closer. \"Save them, sire. Let me wake the stone dragons. Three is three. Give me the boy.\"\n\n\"Edric Storm,\" Davos said.\n\nStannis rounded on him in a cold fury. \"I know his name. Spare me your reproaches. I like this no more than you do, but my duty is to the realm. My duty...\" He turned back to Melisandre. \"You swear there is no other way? Swear it on your life, for I promise, you shall die by inches if you lie.\"\n\n\"You are he who must stand against the Other. The one whose coming was prophesied five thousand years ago. The red comet was your herald. You are the prince that was promised, and if you fail the world fails with you.\" Melisandre went to him, her red lips parted, her ruby throbbing. \"Give me this boy,\" she whispered, \"and I will give you your kingdom.\"\n\n\"He can't,\" said Davos. \"Edric Storm is gone.\"\n\n\"Gone?\" Stannis turned. \"What do you mean, gone?\"\n\n\"He is aboard a Lyseni galley, safely out to sea.\" Davos watched Melisandre's pale, heart-shaped face. He saw the flicker of dismay there, the sudden uncertainty. She did not see it!"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The king's eyes were dark blue bruises in the hollows of his face. \"The bastard was taken from Dragonstone without my leave? A galley, you say? If that Lysene pirate thinks to use the boy to squeeze gold from me-\"\n\n\"This is your Hand's work, sire.\" Melisandre gave Davos a knowing look. \"You will bring him back, my lord. You will.\"\n\n\"The boy is out of my reach,\" said Davos. \"And out of your reach as well, my lady.\"\n\nHer red eyes made him squirm. \"I should have left you to the dark, ser. Do you know what you have done?\"\n\n\"My duty.\"\n\n\"Some might call it treason.\" Stannis went to the window to stare out into the night. Is he looking for the ship? \"I raised you up from dirt, Davos.\" He sounded more tired than angry. \"Was loyalty too much to hope for?\"\n\n\"Four of my sons died for you on the Blackwater. I might have died myself. You have my loyalty, always.\" Davos Seaworth had thought long and hard about the words he said next; he knew his life depended on them. \"Your Grace, you made me swear to give you honest counsel and swift obedience, to defend your realm against your foes, to protect your people. Is not Edric Storm one of your people? One of those I swore to protect? I kept my oath. How could that be treason?\"\n\nStannis ground his teeth again. \"I never asked for this crown. Gold is cold and heavy on the head, but so long as I am the king, I have a duty... If I must sacrifice one child to the flames to save a million from the dark... Sacrifice... is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice. Tell him, my lady.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Melisandre said, \"Azor Ahai tempered Lightbringer with the heart's blood of his own beloved wife."},{"from":"gpt","value":"If a man with a thousand cows gives one to god, that is nothing. But a man who offers the only cow he owns...\"\n\n\"She talks of cows,\" Davos told the king. \"I am speaking of a boy, your daughter's friend, your brother's son.\"\n\n\"A king's son, with the power of kingsblood in his veins.\" Melisandre's ruby glowed like a red star at her throat. \"Do you think you've saved this boy, Onion Knight? When the long night falls, Edric Storm shall die with the rest, wherever he is hidden. Your own sons as well. Darkness and cold will cover the earth. You meddle in matters you do not understand.\"\n\n\"There's much I don't understand,\" Davos admitted. \"I have never pretended elsewise. I know the seas and rivers, the shapes of the coasts, where the rocks and shoals lie. I know hidden coves where a boat can land unseen. And I know that a king protects his people, or he is no king at all.\"\n\nStannis's face darkened. \"Do you mock me to my face? Must I learn a king's duty from an onion smuggler?\"\n\nDavos knelt. \"If I have offended, take my head. I'll die as I lived, your loyal man. But hear me first. Hear me for the sake of the onions I brought you, and the fingers you took.\"\n\nStannis slid Lightbringer from its scabbard. Its glow filled the chamber. \"Say what you will, but say it quickly.\" The muscles in the king's neck stood out like cords.\n\nDavos fumbled inside his cloak and drew out the crinkled sheet of parchment. It seemed a thin and flimsy thing, yet it was all the shield he had. \"A King's Hand should be able to read and write. Maester Pylos has been teaching me.\" He smoothed the letter flat upon his knee and began to read by the light of the magic sword."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"JON\n\nHe dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the darkness. \"Father?\" he called. \"Bran? Rickon?\" No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on his neck. \"Uncle?\" he called. \"Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me.\" Up above he heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and this is not my place. His crutch slipped and he fell to his knees. The crypts were growing darker. Alight has gone out somewhere. \"Ygritte?\" he whispered. \"Forgive me. Please.\" But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark...\n\nThe cell was dark, the bed hard beneath him. His own bed, he remembered, his own bed in his steward's cell beneath the Old Bear's chambers. By rights it should have brought him sweeter dreams. Even beneath the furs, he was cold. Ghost had shared his cell before the ranging, warming it against the chill of night. And in the wild, Ygritte had slept beside him. Both gone now. He had burned Ygritte himself, as he knew she would have wanted, and Ghost... Where are you? Was he dead as well, was that what his dream had meant, the bloody wolf in the crypts? But the wolf in the dream had been grey, not white. Grey, like Bran's wolf. Had the Thenns hunted him down and killed him after Queenscrown? If so, Bran was lost to him for good and all."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jon was trying to make sense of that when the horn blew.\n\nThe Horn of Winter, he thought, still confused from sleep. But Mance never found Joramun's horn, so that couldn't be. A second blast followed, as long and deep as the first. Jon had to getup and go to the Wall, he knew, but it was so hard...\n\nHe shoved aside his furs and sat. The pain in his leg seemed duller, nothing he could not stand. He had slept in his breeches and tunic and smallclothes, for the added warmth, so he had only to pull on his boots and don leather and mail and cloak. The horn blew again, two long blasts, so he slung Longclaw over one shoulder, found his crutch, and hobbled down the steps.\n\nIt was the black of night outside, bitter cold and overcast. His brothers were spilling out of towers and keeps, buckling their swordbelts and walking toward the Wall. Jon looked for Pyp and Grenn, but could not find them. Perhaps one of them was the sentry blowing the horn. It is Mance, he thought. He has come at last. That was good. We will fight a battle, and then we'll rest. Alive or dead, we'll rest.\n\nWhere the stair had been, only an immense tangle of charred wood and broken ice remained below the Wall. The winch raised them up now, but the cage was only big enough for ten men at a time, and it was already on its way up by the time Jon arrived. He would need to wait for its return. Others waited with him; Satin, Mully, Spare Boot, Kegs, big blond Hareth with his buckteeth. Everyone called him Horse. He had been a stablehand in Mole's Town, one of the few moles who had stayed at Castle Black. The rest had run back to their fields and hovels, or their beds in the underground brothel. Horse wanted to take the black, though, the great buck-toothed fool. Zei remained as well, the whore who'd proved so handy with a crossbow, and Noye had kept three orphan boys whose father had died on the steps. They were young-nine and eight and five-but no one else seemed to want them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As they waited for the cage to comeback, Clydas brought them cups of hot mulled wine, while Three-Finger Hobb passed out chunks of black bread. Jon took a heel from him and gnawed on it.\n\n\"Is it Mance Rayder?\" Satin asked anxiously.\n\n\"We can hope so.\" There were worse things than wildlings in the dark. Jon remembered the words the wildling king had spoken on the Fist of the First Men, as they stood amidst that pink snow. When the dead walk, walls and stakes and swords mean nothing. You cannot fight the dead, Jon Snow. No man knows that half so well as me. Just thinking of it made the wind seem a little colder.\n\nFinally the cage came clanking back down, swaying at the end of the long chain, and they crowded in silently and shut the door.\n\nMully yanked the bell rope three times. A moment later they began to rise, by fits and starts at first, then more smoothly. No one spoke. At the top the cage swung sideways and they clambered out one by one. Horse gave Jon a hand down onto the ice. The cold hit him in the teeth like a fist.\n\nAline of fires burned along the top of the Wall, contained in iron baskets on poles taller than a man. The cold knife of the wind stirred and swirled the flames, so the lurid orange light was always shifting. Bundles of quarrels, arrows, spears, and scorpion bolts stood ready on every hand. Rocks were piled ten feet high, big wooden barrels of pitch and lamp oil lined up beside them. Bowen Marsh had left Castle Blackwell supplied in everything save men. The wind was whipping at the black cloaks of the scarecrow sentinels who stood along the ramparts, spears in hand. \"I hope it wasn't one of them who blew the horn,\" Jon said to Donal Noye when he limped up beside him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Did you hear that?\" Noye asked.\n\nThere was the wind, and horses, and something else. \"A mammoth,\" Jon said. \"That was a mammoth.\"\n\nThe armorer's breath was frosting as it blew from his broad, flat nose. North of the Wall was a sea of darkness that seemed to stretch forever. Jon could make out the faint red glimmer of distant fires moving through the wood. It was Mance, certain as sunrise. The Others did not light torches.\n\n\"How do we fight them if we can't see them?\" Horse asked.\n\nDonal Noye turned toward the two great trebuchets that Bowen Marsh had restored to working order. \"Give me light!\" he roared.\n\nBarrels of pitch were loaded hastily into the slings and set afire with a torch. The wind fanned the flames to a brisk red fury. \"NOW!\" Noye bellowed. The counterweights plunged downward, the throwing arms rose to thud against the padded crossbars. The burning pitch went tumbling through the darkness, casting an eerie flickering light upon the ground below. Jon caught a glimpse of mammoths moving ponderously through the half-light, and just as quickly lost them again. A dozen, maybe more. The barrels struck the earth and burst. They heard a deep bass trumpeting, and a giant roared something in the Old Tongue, his voice an ancient thunder that sent shivers up Jon's spine.\n\n\"Again!\" Noye shouted, and the trebuchets were loaded once more. Two more barrels of burning pitch went crackling through the gloom to come crashing down amongst the foe. This time one of them struck a dead tree, enveloping it inflame. Not a dozen mammoths, Jon saw, a hundred."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He stepped to the edge of the precipice. Careful, he reminded himself, it is along way down. Red Alyn sounded his sentry's horn once more, Aaaaahoooooooooooooooooooooooooo, aaaaahoooooooooooooooooooo. And now the wildlings answered, not with one horn but with a dozen, and with drums and pipes as well. We are come, they seemed to say, we are come to break your Wall, to take your lands and steal your daughters. The wind howled, the trebuchets creaked and thumped, the barrels flew. Behind the giants and the mammoths, Jon saw men advancing on the Wall with bows and axes. Were there twenty or twenty thousand? In the dark there was noway to tell. This is a battle of blind men, but Mance has a few thousand more of them than we do.\n\n\"The gate!\" Pyp cried out. \"They're at the GATE!\"\n\nThe Wall was too big to be stormed by any conventional means; too high for ladders or siege towers, too thick for battering rams. No catapult could throw a stone large enough to breach it, and if you tried to set it on fire, the icemelt would quench the flames. You could climb over, as the raiders did near Greyguard, but only if you were strong and fit and sure-handed, and even then you might end up like Jarl, impaled on a tree. They must take the gate, or they cannot pass.\n\nBut the gate was a crooked tunnel through the ice, smaller than any castle gate in the Seven Kingdoms, so narrow that rangers must lead their garrons through single file. Three iron grates closed the inner passage, each locked and chained and protected by a murder hole. The outer door was old oak, nine inches thick and studded with iron, not easy to breakthrough. But Mance has mammoths, he reminded himself, and giants as well."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Must be cold down there,\" said Noye. \"What say we warm them up, lads?\" A dozen jars of lamp oil had been lined upon the precipice. Pyp ran down the line with a torch, setting them alight. Owen the Oaf followed, shoving them over the edge one by one. Tongues of pale yellow fire swirled around the jars as they plunged downward. When the last was gone, Grenn kicked loose the chocks on a barrel of pitch and sent it rumbling and rolling over the edge as well. The sounds below changed to shouts and screams, sweet music to their ears.\n\nYet still the drums beat on, the trebuchets shuddered and thumped, and the sound of skinpipes came wafting through the night like the songs of strange fierce birds. Septon Cellador began to sing as well, his voice tremulous and thick with wine.\n\nGentle Mother, font of mercy,\n\nsave our sons from war, we pray,\n\nstay the swords and stay the arrows,\n\nlet them know...\n\nDonal Noye rounded on him. \"Any man here stays his sword, I'll chuck his puckered arse right off this Wall... starting with you, Septon. Archers! Do we have any bloody archers?\"\n\n\"Here,\" said Satin.\n\n\"And here,\" said Mully. \"But how can I find a target? It's black as the inside of a pig's belly. Where are they?\"\n\nNoye pointed north. \"Loose enough arrows, might be you'll find a few. At least you'll make them fretful.\" He looked around the ring of firelit faces. \"I need two bows and two spears to help me hold the tunnel if they break the gate.\" More than ten stepped forward, and the smith picked his four. \"Jon, you have the Wall till I return.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fora moment Jon thought he had misheard. It had sounded as if Noye were leaving him in command. \"My lord?\"\n\n\"Lord? I'm a blacksmith. I said, the Wallis yours.\"\n\nThere are older men, Jon wanted to say, better men. I am still as green as summer grass. I'm wounded, and I stand accused of desertion. His mouth had gone bone dry. \"Aye,\" he managed.\n\nAfterward it would seem to Jon Snow as if he'd dreamt that night. Side by side with the straw soldiers, with longbows or crossbows clutched in half-frozen hands, his archers launched a hundred flights of arrows against men they never saw. From time to time a wildling arrow came flying back in answer. He sent men to the smaller catapults and filled the air with jagged rocks the size of a giant's fist, but the darkness swallowed them as a man might swallow a handful of nuts. Mammoths trumpeted in the gloom, strange voices called out in stranger tongues, and Septon Cellador prayed so loudly and drunkenly for the dawn to come that Jon was tempted to chuck him over the edge himself. They heard a mammoth dying at their feet and saw another lurch burning through the woods, trampling down men and trees alike. The wind blew cold and colder. Hobb rode up the chain with cups of onion broth, and Owen and Clydas served them to the archers where they stood, so they could gulp them down between arrows. Zei took a place among them with her crossbow. Hours of repeated jars and shocks knocked something loose on the right-hand trebuchet, and its counterweight came crashing free, suddenly and catastrophically, wrenching the throwing arm sideways with a splintering crash. The left-hand trebuchet kept throwing, but the wildlings had quickly learned to shun the place where its loads were landing."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"We should have twenty trebuchets, not two, and they should be mounted on sledges and turntables so we could move them. It was a futile thought. He might as well wish for another thousand men, and maybe a dragon or three.\n\nDonal Noye did not return, nor any of them who'd gone down with him to hold that black cold tunnel. The Wallis mine, Jon reminded himself whenever he felt his strength flagging. He had taken up a longbow himself, and his fingers felt crabbed and stiff, half-frozen. His fever was back as well, and his leg would tremble uncontrollably, sending a white-hot knife of pain right through him. One more arrow, and I'll rest, he told himself, half a hundred times. Just one more. Whenever his quiver was empty, one of the orphaned moles would bring him another. One more quiver, and I'm done. It couldn't belong until the dawn.\n\nWhen morning came, none of them quite realized it at first. The world was still dark, but the black had turned to grey and shapes were beginning to emerge half-seen from the gloom. Jon lowered his bow to stare at the mass of heavy clouds that covered the eastern sky. He could see aglow behind them, but perhaps he was only dreaming. He notched another arrow.\n\nThen the rising sun broke through to send pale lances of light across the battleground. Jon found himself holding his breath as he looked out over the half-mile swath of cleared land that lay between the Wall and the edge of the forest. In half a night they had turned it into a wasteland of blackened grass, bubbling pitch, shattered stone, and corpses. The carcass of the burned mammoth was already drawing crows. There were giants dead on the ground as well, but behind them..."},{"from":"human","value":"Someone moaned to his left, and he heard Septon Cellador say, \"Mother have mercy, oh."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Oh, oh, oh, Mother have mercy.\"\n\nBeneath the trees were all the wildlings in the world; raiders and giants, wargs and skinchangers, mountain men, salt sea sailors, ice river cannibals, cave dwellers with dyed faces, dog chariots from the Frozen Shore, Hornfoot men with their soles like boiled leather, all the queer wild folk Mance had gathered to break the Wall. This is not your land, Jon wanted to shout at them. There is no place for you here. Go away. He could hear Tormund Giantsbane laughing at that. \"You know nothing, Jon Snow,\" Ygritte would have said. He flexed his sword hand, opening and closing the fingers, though he knew full well that swords would not come into it up here.\n\nHe was chilled and feverish, and suddenly the weight of the longbow was too much. The battle with the Magnar had been nothing, he realized, and the night fight less than nothing, only a probe, a dagger in the dark to try and catch them unprepared. The real battle was only now beginning.\n\n\"I never knew there would be so many,\" Satin said.\n\nJon had. He had seen them before, but not like this, not drawn up in battle array. On the march the wildling column had sprawled overlong leagues like some enormous worm, but you never saw all of it at once. But now...\n\n\"Here they come,\" someone said in a hoarse voice.\n\nMammoths centered the wildling line, he saw, a hundred or more with giants on their backs clutching mauls and huge stone axes. More giants loped beside them, pushing along a tree trunk on great wooden wheels, its end sharpened to a point. A ram, he thought bleakly. If the gate still stood below, a few kisses from that thing would soon turn it into splinters. On either side of the giants came a wave of horsemen in boiled leather harness with fire-hardened lances, amass of running archers, hundreds of foot with spears, slings, clubs, and leathern shields. The bone chariots from the Frozen Shore clattered forward on the flanks, bouncing over rocks and roots behind teams of huge white dogs. The fury of the wild, Jon thought as he listened to the skirl of skins, to the dogs barking and baying, the mammoths trumpeting, the free folk whistling and screaming, the giants roaring in the Old Tongue. Their drums echoed off the ice like rolling thunder."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He could feel the despair all around him. \"There must be a hundred thousand,\" Satin wailed. \"How can we stop so many?\"\n\n\"The Wall will stop them,\" Jon heard himself say. He turned and said it again, louder. \"The Wall will stop them. The Wall defends itself.\" Hollow words, but he needed to say them, almost as much as his brothers needed to hear them. \"Mance wants to unman us with his numbers. Does he think we're stupid?\" He was shouting now, his leg forgotten, and every man was listening. \"The chariots, the horsemen, all those fools on foot... what are they going to do to us up here? Any of you ever see a mammoth climb a wall?\" He laughed, and Pyp and Owen and half a dozen more laughed with him. \"They're nothing, they're less use than our straw brothers here, they can't reach us, they can't hurt us, and they don't frighten us, do they?\"\n\n\"NO!\" Grenn shouted.\n\n\"They're down there and we're up here,\" Jon said, \"and so long as we hold the gate they cannot pass. They cannot pass!\" They were all shouting then, roaring his own words back at him, waving swords and longbows in the air as their cheeks flushed red. Jon saw Kegs standing therewith a warhorn slung beneath his arm. \"Brother,\" he told him, \"sound for battle.\"\n\nGrinning, Kegs lifted the horn to his lips, and blew the two long blasts that meant wildlings. Other horns took up the call until the Wall itself seemed to shudder, and the echo of those great deep-throated moans drowned all other sound.\n\n\"Archers,\" Jon said when the horns had died away, \"you'll aim for the giants with that ram, every bloody one of you. Loose at my command, not before. THE GIANTS AND THE RAM. I want arrows raining on them with every step, but we'll wait till they're in range. Any man who wastes an arrow will need to climb down and fetch it back, do you hear me?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"I do,\" shouted Owen the Oaf."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I hear you, Lord Snow.\"\n\nJon laughed, laughed like a drunk or a madman, and his men laughed with him. The chariots and the racing horsemen on the flanks were well ahead of the center now, he saw. The wildlings had not crossed a third of the half mile, yet their battle line was dissolving. \"Load the trebuchet with caltrops,\" Jon said. \"Owen, Kegs, angle the catapults toward the center. Scorpions, load with fire spears and loose at my command.\" He pointed at the Mole's Town boys. \"You, you, and you, standby with torches.\"\n\nThe wildling archers shot as they advanced; they would dash forward, stop, loose, then run another ten yards. There were so many that the air was constantly full of arrows, all falling woefully short. A waste, Jon thought. Their want of discipline is showing. The smaller horn-and-wood bows of the free folk were outranged by the great yew longbows of the Night's Watch, and the wildlings were trying to shoot at men seven hundred feet above them. \"Let them shoot,\" Jon said. \"Wait. Hold.\" Their cloaks were flapping behind them. \"The wind is in our faces, it will cost us range. Wait.\" Closer, closer. The skins wailed, the drums thundered, the wildling arrows fluttered and fell.\n\n\"DRAW.\" Jon lifted his own bow and pulled the arrow to his ear. Satin did the same, and Grenn, Owen the Oaf, Spare Boot, Black Jack Bulwer, Arron and Emrick. Zei hoisted her crossbow to her shoulder. Jon was watching the ram come on and on, the mammoths and giants lumbering forward on either side. They were so small he could have crushed them all in one hand, it seemed. If only my hand was big enough. Through the killing ground they came. A hundred crows rose from the carcass of the dead mammoth as the wildlings thundered past to either side of them. Closer and closer, until..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"LOOSE!\"\n\nThe black arrows hissed downward, like snakes on feathered wings. Jon did not wait to see where they struck. He reached fora second arrow as soon as the first left his bow. \"NOTCH. DRAW. LOOSE.\" As soon as the arrow flew he found another. \"NOTCH. DRAW. LOOSE.\" Again, and then again. Jon shouted for the trebuchet, and heard the creak and heavy thud as a hundred spiked steel caltrops went spinning through the air. \"Catapults,\" he called, \"scorpions. Bowmen, loose at will.\" Wildling arrows were striking the Wall now, a hundred feet below them. A second giant spun and staggered. Notch, draw, loose. A mammoth veered into another beside it, spilling giants on the ground. Notch, draw, loose. The ram was down and done, he saw, the giants who'd pushed it dead or dying. \"Fire arrows,\" he shouted. \"I want that ram burning.\" The screams of wounded mammoths and the booming cries of giants mingled with the drums and pipes to make an awful music, yet still his archers drew and loosed, as if they'd all gone as deaf as dead Dick Follard. They might be the dregs of the order, but they were men of the Night's Watch, or near enough as made no matter. That's why they shall not pass.\n\nOne of the mammoths was running berserk, smashing wildlings with his trunk and crushing archers underfoot. Jon pulled back his bow once more, and launched another arrow at the beast's shaggy back to urge him on. To east and west, the flanks of the wildling host had reached the Wall unopposed. The chariots drew in or turned while the horsemen milled aimlessly beneath the looming cliff of ice. \"At the gate!\" a shout came. Spare Boot, maybe. \"Mammoth at the gate!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Fire,\" Jon barked. \"Grenn, Pyp.\"\n\nGrenn thrust his bow aside, wrestled a barrel of oil onto its side, and rolled it to the edge of the Wall, where Pyp hammered out the plug that sealed it, stuffed in a twist of cloth, and set it alight with a torch. They shoved it over together. A hundred feet below it struck the Wall and burst, filling the air with shattered staves and burning oil. Grenn was rolling a second barrel to the precipice by then, and Kegs had one as well. Pyp lit them both. \"Got him!\" Satin shouted, his head sticking out so far that Jon was certain he was about to fall. \"Got him, got him, GOT him!\" He could hear the roar of fire. A flaming giant lurched into view, stumbling and rolling on the ground.\n\nThen suddenly the mammoths were fleeing, running from the smoke and flames and smashing into those behind them in their terror. Those went backward too, the giants and wildlings behind them scrambling to get out of their way. In half a heartbeat the whole center was collapsing. The horsemen on the flanks saw themselves being abandoned and decided to fallback as well, not one so much as blooded. Even the chariots rumbled off, having done nothing but look fearsome and make a lot of noise. When they break, they break hard, Jon Snow thought as he watched them reel away. The drums had all gone silent. How do you like that music, Mance? How do you like the taste of the Dornishman's wife? \"Do we have anyone hurt?\" he asked.\n\n\"The bloody buggers got my leg.\" Spare Boot plucked the arrow out and waved it above his head. \"The wooden one!\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Help the author by continuing the tale.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 64\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The boy hesitated half a heartbeat, long enough for Ser Balon Swann to say, \\\"Do as the Lord Commander says, Loras.\\\" Some of the gold cloaks drew their steel then, and that made some Dreadfort men do the same. Splendid, thought Jaime, no sooner do I climb down off my horse than we have a bloodbath in the yard.\\n\\nSer Loras Tyrell slammed his sword back into its sheath.\\n\\n\\\"That wasn't so difficult, was it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want her arrested.\\\" Ser Loras pointed. \\\"Lady Brienne, I charge you with the murder of Lord Renly Baratheon.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"For what it's worth,\\\" said Jaime, \\\"the wench does have honor. More than I have seen from you. And it may even be she's telling it true. I'll grant you, she's not what you'd call clever, but even my horse could come up with a better lie, if it was a lie she meant to tell. As you insist, however... Ser Balon, escort Lady Brienne to a tower cell and hold her thereunder guard. And find some suitable quarters for Steelshanks and his men, until such time as my father can see them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, my lord.\\\"\\n\\nBrienne's big blue eyes were full of hurt as Balon Swann and a dozen gold cloaks led her away. You ought to be blowing me kisses, wench, he wanted to tell her. Why must they misunderstand every bloody thing he did? Aerys. It all grows from Aerys. Jaime turned his back on the wench and strode across the yard.\\n\\nAnother knight in white armor was guarding the doors of the royal sept; a tall man with a black beard, broad shoulders, and a hooked nose. When he saw Jaime he gave a sour smile and said, \\\"And where do you think you're going?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Into the sept.\\\" Jaime lifted his stump to point. \\\"That one right there. I mean to seethe queen.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Her Grace is in mourning. And why would she be wanting to seethe likes of you?\\\"\\n\\nBecause I'm her lover, and the father of her murdered son, he wanted to say. \\\"Who in seven hells are you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A knight of the Kingsguard, and you'd best learn some respect, cripple, or I'll have that other hand and leave you to suck up your porridge of a morning.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am the queen's brother, ser.\\\"\\n\\nThe white knight thought that funny. \\\"Escaped, have you? And grown a bit as well, m'lord?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Her other brother, dolt. And the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Now stand aside, or you'll wish you had.\\\"\\n\\nThe dolt took along look this time. \\\"Is it... Ser Jaime.\\\" He straightened. \\\"My pardons, milord. I did not know you. I have the honor to be Ser Osmund Kettleblack.\\\"\\n\\nWhere's the honor in that? \\\"I want sometime alone with my sister. See that no one else enters the sept, ser. If we're disturbed, I'll have your bloody head.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye, ser. As you say.\\\" Ser Osmund opened the door.\\n\\nCersei was kneeling before the altar of the Mother. Joffrey's bier had been laid out beneath the Stranger, who led the newly dead to the other world. The smell of incense hung heavy in the air, and a hundred candles burned, sending up a hundred prayers. Joff's like to need everyone of them, too.\\n\\nHis sister looked over her shoulder. \\\"Who?\\\" she said, then, \\\"Jaime?\\\" She rose, her eyes brimming with tears. \\\"Is it truly you?\\\" She did not come to him, however. She has never come tome, he thought. She has always waited, letting me come to her. She gives, but I must ask. \\\"You should have come sooner,\\\" she murmured, when he took her in his arms. \\\"Why couldn't you have come sooner, to keep him safe? My boy...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Our boy. \\\"I came as fast I could.\\\" He broke from the embrace, and stepped back apace. \\\"It's war out there, Sister.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You look so thin. And your hair, your golden hair...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The hair will grow back.\\\" Jaime lifted his stump. She needs to see. \\\"This won't.\\\"\\n\\nHer eyes went wide. \\\"The Starks...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. This was Vargo Hoat's work.\\\"\\n\\nThe name meant nothing to her. \\\"Who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Goat of Harrenhal. Fora little while.\\\"\\n\\nCersei turned to gaze at Joffrey's bier. They had dressed the dead king in gilded armor, eerily similar to Jaime's own. The visor of the helm was closed, but the candles reflected softly off the gold, so the boy shimmered bright and brave in death. The candlelight woke fires in the rubies that decorated the bodice of Cersei's mourning dress as well. Her hair fell to her shoulders, undressed and unkempt. \\\"He killed him, Jaime. Just as he'd warned me. One day when I thought myself safe and happy he would turn my joy to ashes in my mouth, he said.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tyrion said that?\\\" Jaime had not wanted to believe it. Kinslaying was worse than kingslaying, in the eyes of gods and men. He knew the boy was mine. I loved Tyrion. I was good to him. Well, but for that onetime... but the Imp did not know the truth of that. Or did he? \\\"Why would he kill Joff?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fora whore.\\\" She clutched his good hand and held it tight in hers. \\\"He told me he was going to do it. Joff knew. Ashe was dying, he pointed at his murderer. At our twisted little monster of a brother.\\\" She kissed Jaime's fingers. \\\"You'll kill him for me, won't you? You'll avenge our son.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jaime pulled away. \\\"He is still my brother.\\\" He shoved his stump at her face, in case she failed to see it. \\\"And I am in no fit state to be killing anyone.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have another hand, don't you? I am not asking you to best the Hound in battle. Tyrion is a dwarf, locked in a cell. The guards would stand aside for you.\\\"\\n\\nThe thought turned his stomach. \\\"I must know more of this. Of how it happened.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You shall,\\\" Cersei promised. \\\"There's to be atrial. When you hear all he did, you'll want him dead as much as I do.\\\" She touched his face. \\\"I was lost without you, Jaime. I was afraid the Starks would send me your head. I could not have borne that.\\\" She kissed him. Alight kiss, the merest brush of her lips on his, but he could feel her tremble as he slid his arms around her. \\\"I am not whole without you.\\\"\\n\\nThere was no tenderness in the kiss he returned to her, only hunger. Her mouth opened for his tongue. \\\"No,\\\" she said weakly when his lips moved down her neck, \\\"not here. The septons...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Others can take the septons.\\\" He kissed her again, kissed her silent, kissed her until she moaned. Then he knocked the candles aside and lifted her up onto the Mother's altar, pushing up her skirts and the silken shift beneath. She pounded on his chest with feeble fists, murmuring about the risk, the danger, about their father, about the septons, about the wrath of gods. He never heard her. He undid his breeches and climbed up and pushed her bare white legs apart. One hand slid up her thigh and underneath her smallclothes. When he tore them away, he saw that her moon's blood was on her, but it made no difference.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Hurry,\\\" she was whispering now, \\\"quickly, quickly, now, do it now, dome now. Jaime Jaime Jaime.\\\" Her hands helped guide him. \\\"Yes,\\\" Cersei said as he thrust, \\\"my brother, sweet brother, yes, like that, yes, I have you, you're home now, you're home now, you're home.\\\" She kissed his ear and stroked his short bristly hair. Jaime lost himself in her flesh. He could feel Cersei's heart beating in time with his own, and the wetness of blood and seed where they were joined.\\n\\nBut no sooner were they done than the queen said, \\\"Let me up. If we are discovered like this...\\\"\\n\\nReluctantly he rolled away and helped her off the altar. The pale marble was smeared with blood. Jaime wiped it clean with his sleeve, then bent to pickup the candles he had knocked over. Fortunately they had all gone out when they fell. If the sept had caught fire I might never have noticed.\\n\\n\\\"This was folly.\\\" Cersei pulled her gown straight. \\\"With Father in the castle... Jaime, we must be careful.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am sick of being careful. The Targaryens wed brother to sister, why shouldn't we do the same? Marry me, Cersei. Stand up before the realm and say it's me you want. We'll have our own wedding feast, and make another son in place of Joffrey.\\\"\\n\\nShe drew back. \\\"That's not funny.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do you hear me chuckling?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did you leave your wits at Riverrun?\\\" Her voice had an edge to it. \\\"Tommen's throne derives from Robert, you know that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He'll have Casterly Rock, isn't that enough? Let Father sit the throne. All I want is you.\\\" He made to touch her cheek. Old habits die hard, and it was his right arm he lifted.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Cersei recoiled from his stump.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Don't... don't talk like this. You're scaring me, Jaime. Don't be stupid. One wrong word and you'll cost us everything. What did they do to you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They cutoff my hand.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, it's more, you're changed.\\\" She backed off a step. \\\"We'll talk later. On the morrow. I have Sansa Stark's maids in a tower cell, I need to question them... you should go to Father.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I crossed a thousand leagues to come to you, and lost the best part of me along the way. Don't tell me to leave.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Leave me,\\\" she repeated, turning away.\\n\\nJaime laced up his breeches and did as she commanded. Weary as he was, he could not seek abed. By now his lord father knew that he was back in the city.\\n\\nThe Tower of the Hand was guarded by Lannister household guards, who knew him at once. \\\"The gods are good, to give you back to us, ser,\\\" one said, as he held the door.\\n\\n\\\"The gods had no part in it. Catelyn Stark gave me back. Her, and the Lord of the Dreadfort.\\\"\\n\\nHe climbed the stairs and pushed into the solar unannounced, to find his father sitting by the fire. Lord Tywin was alone, for which Jaime was thankful. He had no desire to flaunt his maimed hand for Mace Tyrell or the Red Viper just now, much less the two of them together.\\n\\n\\\"Jaime,\\\" Lord Tywin said, as if they'd last seen each other at breakfast. \\\"Lord Bolton led me to expect you earlier. I had hoped you'd be here for the wedding.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was delayed.\\\" Jaime closed the door softly. \\\"My sister outdid herself, I'm told. Seventy-seven courses and a regicide, never a wedding like it. How long have you known I was free?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The eunuch told me a few days after your escape. I sent men into the riverlands to look for you. Gregor Clegane, Samwell Spicer, the brothers Plumm. Varys putout the word as well, but quietly. We agreed that the fewer people who knew you were free, the fewer would be hunting you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did Varys mention this?\\\" He moved closer to the fire, to let his father see.\\n\\nLord Tywin pushed himself out of his chair, breath hissing between his teeth. \\\"Who did this? If Lady Catelyn thinks-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lady Catelyn held a sword to my throat and made me swear to return her daughters. This was your goat's work. Vargo Hoat, the Lord of Harrenhal!\\\"\\n\\nLord Tywin looked away, disgusted. \\\"No longer. Ser Gregor's taken the castle. The sellswords deserted their erstwhile captain almost to a man, and some of Lady Whent's old people opened a postern gate. Clegane found Hoat sitting alone in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, half-mad with pain and fever from a wound that festered. His ear, I'm told.\\\"\\n\\nJaime had to laugh. Too sweet! His ear! He could scarcely wait to tell Brienne, though the wench wouldn't find it half so funny as he did. \\\"Is he dead yet?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Soon. They have taken off his hands and feet, but Clegane seems amused by the way the Qohorik slobbers.\\\"\\n\\nJaime's smile curdled. \\\"What about his Brave Companions?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The few who stayed at Harrenhal are dead. The others scattered. They'll make for ports, I'll warrant, or try and lose themselves in the woods.\\\" His eyes went back to Jaime's stump, and his mouth grew taut with fury. \\\"We'll have their heads. Everyone. Can you use a sword with your left hand?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I can hardly dress myself in the morning. Jaime held up the hand in question for his father's inspection. \\\"Four fingers, a thumb, much like the other. Why shouldn't it work as well?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Good.\\\" His father sat. \\\"That is good. I have a gift for you. For your return. After Varys told me...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Unless it's anew hand, let it wait.\\\" Jaime took the chair across from him. \\\"How did Joffrey die?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Poison. It was meant to appear as though he choked on a morsel of food, but I had his throat slit open and the maesters could find no obstruction.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Cersei claims that Tyrion did it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your brother served the king the poisoned wine, with a thousand people looking on.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That was rather foolish of him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have taken Tyrion's squire into custody. His wife's maids as well. We shall see if they have anything to tell us. Ser Addam's gold cloaks are searching for the Stark girl, and Varys has offered a reward. The king's justice will be done.\\\"\\n\\nThe king's justice. \\\"You would execute your own son?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He stands accused of regicide and kinslaying. If he is innocent, he has nothing to fear. First we must needs consider the evidence for and against him.\\\"\\n\\nEvidence. In this city of liars, Jaime knew what sort of evidence would be found. \\\"Renly died strangely as well, when Stannis needed him to.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lord Renly was murdered by one of his own guards, some woman from Tarth.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That woman from Tarth is the reason I'm here. I tossed her into a cell to appease Ser Loras, but I'll believe in Renly's ghost before I believe she did him any harm. But Stannis-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It was poison that killed Joffrey, not sorcery.\\\" Lord Tywin glanced at Jaime's stump again. \\\"You cannot serve in the Kingsguard without a sword hand-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can,\\\" he interrupted. \\\"And I will. There's precedent. I'll look in the White Book and find it, if you like. Crippled or whole, a knight of the Kingsguard serves for life.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Cersei ended that when she replaced Ser Barristan on grounds of age. A suitable gift to the Faith will persuade the High Septon to release you from your vows. Your sister was foolish to dismiss Selmy, admittedly, but now that she has opened the gates-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"-someone needs to close them again.\\\" Jaime stood. \\\"I am tired of having highborn women kicking pails of shit at me, Father. No one ever asked me if I wanted to be Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, but it seems I am. I have a duty-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You do.\\\" Lord Tywin rose as well. \\\"A duty to House Lannister. You are the heir to Casterly Rock. That is where you should be. Tommen should accompany you, as your ward and squire. The Rock is where he'll learn to be a Lannister, and I want him away from his mother. I mean to find anew husband for Cersei. Oberyn Martell perhaps, once I convince Lord Tyrell that the match does not threaten Highgarden. And it is past time you were wed. The Tyrells are now insisting that Margaery be wed to Tommen, but if I were to offer you instead-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"NO!\\\" Jaime had heard all that he could stand. No, more than he could stand. He was sick of it, sick of lords and lies, sick of his father, his sister, sick of the whole bloody business. \\\"No. No. No. No. No. How many times must I say no before you'll hear it? Oberyn Martell? The man's infamous, and not just for poisoning his sword. He has more bastards than Robert, and beds with boys as well. And if you think for one misbegotten moment that I would wed Joffrey's widow...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Lord Tyrell swears the girl's still maiden.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She can die a maiden as far as I'm concerned. I don't want her, and I don't want your Rock!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are my son-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am a knight of the Kingsguard. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard! And that's all I mean to be!\\\"\\n\\nFirelight gleamed golden in the stiff whiskers that framed Lord Tywin's face. A vein pulsed in his neck, but he did not speak. And did not speak. And did not speak.\\n\\nThe strained silence went on until it was more than Jaime could endure. \\\"Father...\\\" he began.\\n\\n\\\"You are not my son.\\\" Lord Tywin turned his face away. \\\"You say you are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and only that. Very well, ser. Go do your duty.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"DAVOS\\n\\nTheir voices rose like cinders, swirling up into purple evening sky. \\\"Lead us from the darkness, O my Lord. Fill our hearts with fire, so we may walk your shining path.\\\"\\n\\nThe nightfire burned against the gathering dark, a great bright beast whose shifting orange light threw shadows twenty feet tall across the yard. All along the walls of Dragonstone the army of gargoyles and grotesques seemed to stir and shift.\\n\\nDavos looked down from an arched window in the gallery above. He watched Melisandre lift her arms, as if to embrace the shivering flames. \\\"R'hllor,\\\" she sang in a voice loud and clear, \\\"you are the light in our eyes, the fire in our hearts, the heat in our loins. Yours is the sun that warms our days, yours the stars that guard us in the dark of night.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lord of Light, defend us. The night is dark and full of terrors.\\\" Queen Selyse led the responses, her pinched face full of fervor. King Stannis stood beside her, jaw clenched hard, the points of his red-gold crown shimmering whenever he moved his head. He is with them, but not of them, Davos thought. Princess Shireen was between them, the mottled grey patches on her face and neck almost black in the firelight.\\n\\n\\\"Lord of Light, protect us,\\\" the queen sang. The king did not respond with the others. He was staring into the flames. Davos wondered what he saw there. Another vision of the war to come? Or something closer to home?\\n\\n\\\"R'hllor who gave us breath, we thank you,\\\" sang Melisandre. \\\"R'hllor who gave us day, we thank you.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We thank you for the sun that warms us,\\\" Queen Selyse and the other worshipers replied. \\\"We thank you for the stars that watch us. We thank you for our hearths and for our torches, that keep the savage dark at bay.\\\" There were fewer voices saying the responses than there had been the night before, it seemed to Davos; fewer faces flushed with orange light about the fire. But would there be fewer still on the morrow... or more?\\n\\nThe voice of Ser Axell Florent rang loud as a trumpet. He stood barrel-chested and bandy-legged, the firelight washing his face like a monstrous orange tongue. Davos wondered if Ser Axell would thank him, after. The work they did tonight might well make him the King's Hand, as he dreamed.\\n\\nMelisandre cried, \\\"We thank you for Stannis, by your grace our king. We thank you for the pure white fire of his goodness, for the red sword of justice in his hand, for the love he bears his leal people. Guide him and defend him, R'hllor, and grant him strength to smite his foes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Grant him strength,\\\" answered Queen Selyse, Ser Axell, Devan, and the rest. \\\"Grant him courage. Grant him wisdom.\\\"\\n\\nWhen he was a boy, the septons had taught Davos to pray to the Crone for wisdom, to the Warrior for courage, to the Smith for strength. But it was the Mother he prayed to now, to keep his sweet son Devan safe from the red woman's demon god.\\n\\n\\\"Lord Davos? We'd best be about it.\\\" Ser Andrew touched his elbow gently. \\\"My lord?\\\"\\n\\nThe title still rang queer in his ears, yet Davos turned away from the window. \\\"Aye. It's time.\\\" Stannis, Melisandre, and the queen's men would beat their prayers an hour or more. The red priests lit their fires everyday at sunset, to thank R'hllor for the day just ending, and beg him to send his sun back on the morrow to banish the gathering darkness. A smuggler must know the tides and when to seize them. That was all he was at the end of the day; Davos the smuggler. His maimed hand rose to his throat for his luck, and found nothing. He snatched it down and walked a bit more quickly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His companions kept pace, matching their strides to his own. The Bastard of Nightsong had a pox-ravaged face and an air of tattered chivalry; Ser Gerald Gower was broad, bluff, and blond; Ser Andrew Estermont stood ahead taller, with a spade-shaped beard and shaggy brown eye-brows. They were all good men in their own ways, Davos thought. And they will all be dead men soon, if this night's work goes badly.\\n\\n\\\"Fire is a living thing,\\\" the red woman told him, when he asked her to teach him how to seethe future in the flames. \\\"It is always moving, always changing... like a book whose letters dance and shift even as you try to read them. It takes years of training to seethe shapes beyond the flames, and more years still to learn to tell the shapes of what will be from what maybe or what was. Even then it comes hard, hard. You do not understand that, you men of the sunset lands.\\\" Davos asked her then how it was that Ser Axell had learned the trick of it so quickly, but to that she only smiled enigmatically and said, \\\"Any cat may stare into afire and see red mice at play.\\\"\\n\\nHe had not lied to his king's men, about that or any of it. \\\"The red woman may see what we intend,\\\" he warned them.\\n\\n\\\"We should start by killing her, then,\\\" urged Lewys the Fishwife. \\\"I know a place where we could waylay her, four of us with sharp swords...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You'd doom us all,\\\" said Davos. \\\"Maester Cressen tried to kill her, and she knew at once. From her flames, I'd guess. It seems tome that she is very quick to sense any threat to her own person, but surely she cannot see everything. If we ignore her, perhaps we might escape her notice.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There is no honor in hiding and sneaking,\\\" objected Ser Triston of Tally Hill, who had been a Sunglass man before Lord Guncer went to Melisandre's fires.\\n\\n\\\"Is it so honorable to burn?\\\" Davos asked him. \\\"You saw Lord Sunglass die. Is that what you want? I don't need men of honor now. I need smugglers. Are you with me, or no?\\\"\\n\\nThey were. Gods be good, they were.\\n\\nMaester Pylos was leading Edric Storm through his sums when Davos pushed open the door. Ser Andrew was close behind him; the others had been left to guard the steps and cellar door. The maester broke off. \\\"That will be enough for now, Edric.\\\"\\n\\nThe boy was puzzled by the intrusion. \\\"Lord Davos, Ser Andrew. We were doing sums.\\\"\\n\\nSer Andrew smiled. \\\"I hated sums when I was your age, coz.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't mind them so much. I like history best, though. It's full of tales.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Edric,\\\" said Maester Pylos, \\\"run and get your cloak now. You're to go with Lord Davos.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am?\\\" Edric got to his feet. \\\"Where are we going?\\\" His mouth set stubbornly. \\\"I won't go pray to the Lord of Light. I am a Warrior's man, like my father.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We know,\\\" Davos said. \\\"Come, lad, we must not dawdle.\\\"\\n\\nEdric donned a thick hooded cloak of undyed wool. Maester Pylos helped him fasten it, and pulled the hood up to shadow his face. \\\"Are you coming with us, Maester?\\\" the boy asked.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Pylos touched the chain of many metals he wore about his neck. \\\"My place is hereon Dragonstone. Go with Lord Davos now, and do as he says. He is the King's Hand, remember. What did I tell you about the King's Hand?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Hand speaks with the king's voice.\\\"\\n\\nThe young maester smiled. \\\"That's so. Go now.\\\"\\n\\nDavos had been uncertain of Pylos. Perhaps he resented him for taking old Cressen's place. But now he could only admire the man's courage. This could mean his life as well.\\n\\nOutside the maester's chambers, Ser Gerald Gower waited by the steps. Edric Storm looked at him curiously. As they made their descent he asked, \\\"Where are we going, Lord Davos?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To the water. A ship awaits you.\\\"\\n\\nThe boy stopped suddenly. \\\"A ship?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One of Salladhor Saan's. Salla is a good friend of mine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I shall go with you, Cousin,\\\" Ser Andrew assured him. \\\"There's nothing to be frightened of.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am not frightened,\\\" Edric said indignantly. \\\"Only... is Shireen coming too?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" said Davos. \\\"The princess must remain herewith her father and mother.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have to see her then,\\\" Edric explained. \\\"To say my farewells. Otherwise she'll be sad.\\\"\\n\\nNot so sad as if she sees you burn. \\\"There is no time,\\\" Davos said. \\\"I will tell the princess that you were thinking of her. And you can write her, when you get to where you're going.\\\"\\n\\nThe boy frowned. \\\"Are you sure I must go? Why would my uncle send me from Dragonstone? Did I displease him? I never meant to.\\\" He got that stubborn look again. \\\"I want to see my uncle. I want to see King Stannis.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Andrew and Ser Gerald exchanged a look.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There's no time for that, Cousin,\\\" Ser Andrew said.\\n\\n\\\"I want to see him!\\\" Edric insisted, louder.\\n\\n\\\"He does not want to see you.\\\" Davos had to say something, to get the boy moving. \\\"I am his Hand, I speak with his voice. Must I go to the king and tell him that you would not do as you were told? Do you know how angry that will make him? Have you ever seen your uncle angry?\\\" He pulled off his glove and showed the boy the four fingers that Stannis had shortened. \\\"I have.\\\"\\n\\nIt was all lies; there had been no anger in Stannis Baratheon when he cut the ends off his onion knight's fingers, only an iron sense of justice. But Edric Storm had not been born then, and could not know that. And the threat had the desired effect. \\\"He should not have done that,\\\" the boy said, but he let Davos take him by the hand and draw him down the steps.\\n\\nThe Bastard of Nightsong joined them at the cellar door. They walked quickly, across a shadowed yard and down some steps, under the stone tail of a frozen dragon. Lewys the Fishwife and Omer Blackberry waited at the postern gate, two guards bound and trussed at their feet. \\\"The boat?\\\" Davos asked them.\\n\\n\\\"It's there,\\\" Lewys said. \\\"Four oarsmen. The galley is anchored just past the point. Mad Prendos.\\\"\\n\\nDavos chuckled. A ship named after a madman. Yes, that's fitting. Salla had a streak of the pirate's black humor.\\n\\nHe went to one knee before Edric Storm. \\\"I must leave you now,\\\" he said. \\\"There's a boat waiting, to row you out to a galley. Then it's off across the sea. You are Robert's son so I know you will be brave, no matter what happens.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I will. Only...\\\" The boy hesitated.\\n\\n\\\"Think of this as an adventure, my lord.\\\" Davos tried to sound hale and cheerful. \\\"It's the start of your life's great adventure. May the Warrior defend you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And may the Father judge you justly, Lord Davos.\\\" The boy went with his cousin Ser Andrew out the postern gate. The others followed, all but the Bastard of Nightsong. May the Father judge me justly, Davos thought ruefully. But it was the king's judgment that concerned him now.\\n\\n\\\"These two?\\\" asked Ser Rolland of the guards, when he had closed and barred the gate.\\n\\n\\\"Drag them into a cellar,\\\" said Davos. \\\"You can cut them free when Edric's safely underway.\\\"\\n\\nThe Bastard gave a curt nod. There were no more words to say; the easy part was done. Davos pulled his glove on, wishing he had not lost his luck. He had been a better man and a braver one with that bag of bones around his neck. He ran his shortened fingers through thinning brown hair, and wondered if it needed to be cut. He must look presentable when he stood before the king.\\n\\nDragonstone had never seemed so dark and fearsome. He walked slowly, his footsteps echoing off black walls and dragons. Stone dragons who will never wake, I pray. The Stone Drum loomed huge ahead of him. The guards at the door uncrossed their spears as he approached. Not for the onion knight, but for the King's Hand. Davos was the Hand going in, at least. He wondered what he would becoming out. If I ever do...\\n\\nThe steps seemed longer and steeper than before, or perhaps it was just that he was tired. The Mother never made me for tasks like this. He had risen too high and too fast, and up hereon the mountain the air was too thin for him to breathe. As a boy he'd dreamed of riches, but that was long ago. Later, grown, all he had wanted was a few acres of good land, a hall to grow old in, a better life for his sons. The Blind Bastard used to tell him that a clever smuggler did not overreach, nor draw too much attention to himself. A few acres, a timbered roof, a'ser\\\" before my name, I should have been content. If he survived this night, he would take Devan and sail home to Cape Wrath and his gentle Marya. We will grieve together for our dead sons, raise the living ones to be good men, and speak no more of kings.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Chamber of the Painted Table was dark and empty when Davos entered; the king would still beat the nightfire, with Melisandre and the queen's men. He knelt and made afire in the hearth, to drive the chill from the round chamber and chase the shadows back into their corners. Then he went around the room to each window in turn, opening the heavy velvet curtains and unlatching the wooden shutters. The wind came in, strong with the smell of salt and sea, and pulled at his plain brown cloak.\\n\\nAt the north window, he leaned against the sill fora breath of the cold night air, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mad Prendos raising sail, but the sea seemed black and empty as far as the eye could see. Is she gone already? He could only pray that she was, and the boy with her. A half moon was sliding in and out amongst thin high clouds, and Davos could see familiar stars. There was the Galley, sailing west; there the Crone's Lantern, four bright stars that enclosed a golden haze. The clouds hid most of the Ice Dragon, all but the bright blue eye that marked due north. The sky is full of smugglers\\\" stars. They were old friends, those stars; Davos hoped that meant good luck.\\n\\nBut when he lowered his gaze from the sky to the castle ramparts, he was not so certain. The wings of the stone dragons cast great black shadows in the light from the nightfire. He tried to tell himself that they were no more than carvings, cold and lifeless. This was their place, once. A place of dragons and dragonlords, the seat of House Targaryen. The Targaryens were the blood of old Valyria...\\n\\nThe wind sighed through the chamber, and in the hearth the flames gusted and swirled. He listened to the logs crackle and spit. When Davos left the window his shadow went before him, tall and thin, and fell across the Painted Table like a sword. And there he stood fora longtime, waiting. He heard their boots on the stone steps as they ascended. The king's voice went before him. \\\"... is not three,\\\" he was saying.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Three is three,\\\" came Melisandre's answer.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I swear to you, Your Grace, I saw him die and heard his mother's wail.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In the nightfire.\\\" Stannis and Melisandre came through the door together. \\\"The flames are full of tricks. What is, what will be, what maybe. You cannot tell me fora certainty...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your Grace.\\\" Davos stepped forward. \\\"Lady Melisandre saw it true. Your nephew Joffrey is dead.\\\"\\n\\nIf the king was surprised to find him at the Painted Table, he gave no sign. \\\"Lord Davos,\\\" he said. \\\"He was not my nephew. Though for years I believed he was.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He choked on a morsel of food at his wedding feast,\\\" Davos said. \\\"It maybe that he was poisoned.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is the third,\\\" said Melisandre.\\n\\n\\\"I can count, woman.\\\" Stannis walked along the table, past Oldtown and the Arbor, up toward the Shield Islands and the mouth of the Mander. \\\"Weddings have become more perilous than battles, it would seem. Who was the poisoner? Is it known?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"His uncle, it's said. The Imp.\\\"\\n\\nStannis ground his teeth. \\\"A dangerous man. I learned that on the Blackwater. How do you come by this report?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Lyseni still trade at King's Landing. Salladhor Saan has no reason to lie tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suppose not.\\\" The king ran his fingers across the table. \\\"Joffrey... I remember once, this kitchen cat... the cooks were wont to feed her scraps and fish heads. One told the boy that she had kittens in her belly, thinking he might want one. Joffrey opened up the poor thing with a dagger to see if it were true. When he found the kittens, he brought them to show to his father. Robert hit the boy so hard I thought he'd killed him.\\\" The king took off his crown and placed it on the table. \\\"Dwarf or leech, this killer served the kingdom well. They must send for me now.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They will not,\\\" said Melisandre.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Joffrey has a brother.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tommen.\\\" The king said the name grudgingly.\\n\\n\\\"They will crown Tommen, and rule in his name.\\\"\\n\\nStannis made a fist. \\\"Tommen is gentler than Joffrey, but born of the same incest. Another monster in the making. Another leech upon the land. Westeros needs a man's hand, not a child's.\\\"\\n\\nMelisandre moved closer. \\\"Save them, sire. Let me wake the stone dragons. Three is three. Give me the boy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Edric Storm,\\\" Davos said.\\n\\nStannis rounded on him in a cold fury. \\\"I know his name. Spare me your reproaches. I like this no more than you do, but my duty is to the realm. My duty...\\\" He turned back to Melisandre. \\\"You swear there is no other way? Swear it on your life, for I promise, you shall die by inches if you lie.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are he who must stand against the Other. The one whose coming was prophesied five thousand years ago. The red comet was your herald. You are the prince that was promised, and if you fail the world fails with you.\\\" Melisandre went to him, her red lips parted, her ruby throbbing. \\\"Give me this boy,\\\" she whispered, \\\"and I will give you your kingdom.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He can't,\\\" said Davos. \\\"Edric Storm is gone.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gone?\\\" Stannis turned. \\\"What do you mean, gone?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is aboard a Lyseni galley, safely out to sea.\\\" Davos watched Melisandre's pale, heart-shaped face. He saw the flicker of dismay there, the sudden uncertainty. She did not see it!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The king's eyes were dark blue bruises in the hollows of his face. \\\"The bastard was taken from Dragonstone without my leave? A galley, you say? If that Lysene pirate thinks to use the boy to squeeze gold from me-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is your Hand's work, sire.\\\" Melisandre gave Davos a knowing look. \\\"You will bring him back, my lord. You will.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The boy is out of my reach,\\\" said Davos. \\\"And out of your reach as well, my lady.\\\"\\n\\nHer red eyes made him squirm. \\\"I should have left you to the dark, ser. Do you know what you have done?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My duty.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Some might call it treason.\\\" Stannis went to the window to stare out into the night. Is he looking for the ship? \\\"I raised you up from dirt, Davos.\\\" He sounded more tired than angry. \\\"Was loyalty too much to hope for?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Four of my sons died for you on the Blackwater. I might have died myself. You have my loyalty, always.\\\" Davos Seaworth had thought long and hard about the words he said next; he knew his life depended on them. \\\"Your Grace, you made me swear to give you honest counsel and swift obedience, to defend your realm against your foes, to protect your people. Is not Edric Storm one of your people? One of those I swore to protect? I kept my oath. How could that be treason?\\\"\\n\\nStannis ground his teeth again. \\\"I never asked for this crown. Gold is cold and heavy on the head, but so long as I am the king, I have a duty... If I must sacrifice one child to the flames to save a million from the dark... Sacrifice... is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice. Tell him, my lady.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Melisandre said, \\\"Azor Ahai tempered Lightbringer with the heart's blood of his own beloved wife.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"If a man with a thousand cows gives one to god, that is nothing. But a man who offers the only cow he owns...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She talks of cows,\\\" Davos told the king. \\\"I am speaking of a boy, your daughter's friend, your brother's son.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A king's son, with the power of kingsblood in his veins.\\\" Melisandre's ruby glowed like a red star at her throat. \\\"Do you think you've saved this boy, Onion Knight? When the long night falls, Edric Storm shall die with the rest, wherever he is hidden. Your own sons as well. Darkness and cold will cover the earth. You meddle in matters you do not understand.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There's much I don't understand,\\\" Davos admitted. \\\"I have never pretended elsewise. I know the seas and rivers, the shapes of the coasts, where the rocks and shoals lie. I know hidden coves where a boat can land unseen. And I know that a king protects his people, or he is no king at all.\\\"\\n\\nStannis's face darkened. \\\"Do you mock me to my face? Must I learn a king's duty from an onion smuggler?\\\"\\n\\nDavos knelt. \\\"If I have offended, take my head. I'll die as I lived, your loyal man. But hear me first. Hear me for the sake of the onions I brought you, and the fingers you took.\\\"\\n\\nStannis slid Lightbringer from its scabbard. Its glow filled the chamber. \\\"Say what you will, but say it quickly.\\\" The muscles in the king's neck stood out like cords.\\n\\nDavos fumbled inside his cloak and drew out the crinkled sheet of parchment. It seemed a thin and flimsy thing, yet it was all the shield he had. \\\"A King's Hand should be able to read and write. Maester Pylos has been teaching me.\\\" He smoothed the letter flat upon his knee and began to read by the light of the magic sword.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"JON\\n\\nHe dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the darkness. \\\"Father?\\\" he called. \\\"Bran? Rickon?\\\" No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on his neck. \\\"Uncle?\\\" he called. \\\"Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me.\\\" Up above he heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and this is not my place. His crutch slipped and he fell to his knees. The crypts were growing darker. Alight has gone out somewhere. \\\"Ygritte?\\\" he whispered. \\\"Forgive me. Please.\\\" But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark...\\n\\nThe cell was dark, the bed hard beneath him. His own bed, he remembered, his own bed in his steward's cell beneath the Old Bear's chambers. By rights it should have brought him sweeter dreams. Even beneath the furs, he was cold. Ghost had shared his cell before the ranging, warming it against the chill of night. And in the wild, Ygritte had slept beside him. Both gone now. He had burned Ygritte himself, as he knew she would have wanted, and Ghost... Where are you? Was he dead as well, was that what his dream had meant, the bloody wolf in the crypts? But the wolf in the dream had been grey, not white. Grey, like Bran's wolf. Had the Thenns hunted him down and killed him after Queenscrown? If so, Bran was lost to him for good and all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jon was trying to make sense of that when the horn blew.\\n\\nThe Horn of Winter, he thought, still confused from sleep. But Mance never found Joramun's horn, so that couldn't be. A second blast followed, as long and deep as the first. Jon had to getup and go to the Wall, he knew, but it was so hard...\\n\\nHe shoved aside his furs and sat. The pain in his leg seemed duller, nothing he could not stand. He had slept in his breeches and tunic and smallclothes, for the added warmth, so he had only to pull on his boots and don leather and mail and cloak. The horn blew again, two long blasts, so he slung Longclaw over one shoulder, found his crutch, and hobbled down the steps.\\n\\nIt was the black of night outside, bitter cold and overcast. His brothers were spilling out of towers and keeps, buckling their swordbelts and walking toward the Wall. Jon looked for Pyp and Grenn, but could not find them. Perhaps one of them was the sentry blowing the horn. It is Mance, he thought. He has come at last. That was good. We will fight a battle, and then we'll rest. Alive or dead, we'll rest.\\n\\nWhere the stair had been, only an immense tangle of charred wood and broken ice remained below the Wall. The winch raised them up now, but the cage was only big enough for ten men at a time, and it was already on its way up by the time Jon arrived. He would need to wait for its return. Others waited with him; Satin, Mully, Spare Boot, Kegs, big blond Hareth with his buckteeth. Everyone called him Horse. He had been a stablehand in Mole's Town, one of the few moles who had stayed at Castle Black. The rest had run back to their fields and hovels, or their beds in the underground brothel. Horse wanted to take the black, though, the great buck-toothed fool. Zei remained as well, the whore who'd proved so handy with a crossbow, and Noye had kept three orphan boys whose father had died on the steps. They were young-nine and eight and five-but no one else seemed to want them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As they waited for the cage to comeback, Clydas brought them cups of hot mulled wine, while Three-Finger Hobb passed out chunks of black bread. Jon took a heel from him and gnawed on it.\\n\\n\\\"Is it Mance Rayder?\\\" Satin asked anxiously.\\n\\n\\\"We can hope so.\\\" There were worse things than wildlings in the dark. Jon remembered the words the wildling king had spoken on the Fist of the First Men, as they stood amidst that pink snow. When the dead walk, walls and stakes and swords mean nothing. You cannot fight the dead, Jon Snow. No man knows that half so well as me. Just thinking of it made the wind seem a little colder.\\n\\nFinally the cage came clanking back down, swaying at the end of the long chain, and they crowded in silently and shut the door.\\n\\nMully yanked the bell rope three times. A moment later they began to rise, by fits and starts at first, then more smoothly. No one spoke. At the top the cage swung sideways and they clambered out one by one. Horse gave Jon a hand down onto the ice. The cold hit him in the teeth like a fist.\\n\\nAline of fires burned along the top of the Wall, contained in iron baskets on poles taller than a man. The cold knife of the wind stirred and swirled the flames, so the lurid orange light was always shifting. Bundles of quarrels, arrows, spears, and scorpion bolts stood ready on every hand. Rocks were piled ten feet high, big wooden barrels of pitch and lamp oil lined up beside them. Bowen Marsh had left Castle Blackwell supplied in everything save men. The wind was whipping at the black cloaks of the scarecrow sentinels who stood along the ramparts, spears in hand. \\\"I hope it wasn't one of them who blew the horn,\\\" Jon said to Donal Noye when he limped up beside him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Did you hear that?\\\" Noye asked.\\n\\nThere was the wind, and horses, and something else. \\\"A mammoth,\\\" Jon said. \\\"That was a mammoth.\\\"\\n\\nThe armorer's breath was frosting as it blew from his broad, flat nose. North of the Wall was a sea of darkness that seemed to stretch forever. Jon could make out the faint red glimmer of distant fires moving through the wood. It was Mance, certain as sunrise. The Others did not light torches.\\n\\n\\\"How do we fight them if we can't see them?\\\" Horse asked.\\n\\nDonal Noye turned toward the two great trebuchets that Bowen Marsh had restored to working order. \\\"Give me light!\\\" he roared.\\n\\nBarrels of pitch were loaded hastily into the slings and set afire with a torch. The wind fanned the flames to a brisk red fury. \\\"NOW!\\\" Noye bellowed. The counterweights plunged downward, the throwing arms rose to thud against the padded crossbars. The burning pitch went tumbling through the darkness, casting an eerie flickering light upon the ground below. Jon caught a glimpse of mammoths moving ponderously through the half-light, and just as quickly lost them again. A dozen, maybe more. The barrels struck the earth and burst. They heard a deep bass trumpeting, and a giant roared something in the Old Tongue, his voice an ancient thunder that sent shivers up Jon's spine.\\n\\n\\\"Again!\\\" Noye shouted, and the trebuchets were loaded once more. Two more barrels of burning pitch went crackling through the gloom to come crashing down amongst the foe. This time one of them struck a dead tree, enveloping it inflame. Not a dozen mammoths, Jon saw, a hundred.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He stepped to the edge of the precipice. Careful, he reminded himself, it is along way down. Red Alyn sounded his sentry's horn once more, Aaaaahoooooooooooooooooooooooooo, aaaaahoooooooooooooooooooo. And now the wildlings answered, not with one horn but with a dozen, and with drums and pipes as well. We are come, they seemed to say, we are come to break your Wall, to take your lands and steal your daughters. The wind howled, the trebuchets creaked and thumped, the barrels flew. Behind the giants and the mammoths, Jon saw men advancing on the Wall with bows and axes. Were there twenty or twenty thousand? In the dark there was noway to tell. This is a battle of blind men, but Mance has a few thousand more of them than we do.\\n\\n\\\"The gate!\\\" Pyp cried out. \\\"They're at the GATE!\\\"\\n\\nThe Wall was too big to be stormed by any conventional means; too high for ladders or siege towers, too thick for battering rams. No catapult could throw a stone large enough to breach it, and if you tried to set it on fire, the icemelt would quench the flames. You could climb over, as the raiders did near Greyguard, but only if you were strong and fit and sure-handed, and even then you might end up like Jarl, impaled on a tree. They must take the gate, or they cannot pass.\\n\\nBut the gate was a crooked tunnel through the ice, smaller than any castle gate in the Seven Kingdoms, so narrow that rangers must lead their garrons through single file. Three iron grates closed the inner passage, each locked and chained and protected by a murder hole. The outer door was old oak, nine inches thick and studded with iron, not easy to breakthrough. But Mance has mammoths, he reminded himself, and giants as well.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Must be cold down there,\\\" said Noye. \\\"What say we warm them up, lads?\\\" A dozen jars of lamp oil had been lined upon the precipice. Pyp ran down the line with a torch, setting them alight. Owen the Oaf followed, shoving them over the edge one by one. Tongues of pale yellow fire swirled around the jars as they plunged downward. When the last was gone, Grenn kicked loose the chocks on a barrel of pitch and sent it rumbling and rolling over the edge as well. The sounds below changed to shouts and screams, sweet music to their ears.\\n\\nYet still the drums beat on, the trebuchets shuddered and thumped, and the sound of skinpipes came wafting through the night like the songs of strange fierce birds. Septon Cellador began to sing as well, his voice tremulous and thick with wine.\\n\\nGentle Mother, font of mercy,\\n\\nsave our sons from war, we pray,\\n\\nstay the swords and stay the arrows,\\n\\nlet them know...\\n\\nDonal Noye rounded on him. \\\"Any man here stays his sword, I'll chuck his puckered arse right off this Wall... starting with you, Septon. Archers! Do we have any bloody archers?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Here,\\\" said Satin.\\n\\n\\\"And here,\\\" said Mully. \\\"But how can I find a target? It's black as the inside of a pig's belly. Where are they?\\\"\\n\\nNoye pointed north. \\\"Loose enough arrows, might be you'll find a few. At least you'll make them fretful.\\\" He looked around the ring of firelit faces. \\\"I need two bows and two spears to help me hold the tunnel if they break the gate.\\\" More than ten stepped forward, and the smith picked his four. \\\"Jon, you have the Wall till I return.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fora moment Jon thought he had misheard. It had sounded as if Noye were leaving him in command. \\\"My lord?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lord? I'm a blacksmith. I said, the Wallis yours.\\\"\\n\\nThere are older men, Jon wanted to say, better men. I am still as green as summer grass. I'm wounded, and I stand accused of desertion. His mouth had gone bone dry. \\\"Aye,\\\" he managed.\\n\\nAfterward it would seem to Jon Snow as if he'd dreamt that night. Side by side with the straw soldiers, with longbows or crossbows clutched in half-frozen hands, his archers launched a hundred flights of arrows against men they never saw. From time to time a wildling arrow came flying back in answer. He sent men to the smaller catapults and filled the air with jagged rocks the size of a giant's fist, but the darkness swallowed them as a man might swallow a handful of nuts. Mammoths trumpeted in the gloom, strange voices called out in stranger tongues, and Septon Cellador prayed so loudly and drunkenly for the dawn to come that Jon was tempted to chuck him over the edge himself. They heard a mammoth dying at their feet and saw another lurch burning through the woods, trampling down men and trees alike. The wind blew cold and colder. Hobb rode up the chain with cups of onion broth, and Owen and Clydas served them to the archers where they stood, so they could gulp them down between arrows. Zei took a place among them with her crossbow. Hours of repeated jars and shocks knocked something loose on the right-hand trebuchet, and its counterweight came crashing free, suddenly and catastrophically, wrenching the throwing arm sideways with a splintering crash. The left-hand trebuchet kept throwing, but the wildlings had quickly learned to shun the place where its loads were landing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"We should have twenty trebuchets, not two, and they should be mounted on sledges and turntables so we could move them. It was a futile thought. He might as well wish for another thousand men, and maybe a dragon or three.\\n\\nDonal Noye did not return, nor any of them who'd gone down with him to hold that black cold tunnel. The Wallis mine, Jon reminded himself whenever he felt his strength flagging. He had taken up a longbow himself, and his fingers felt crabbed and stiff, half-frozen. His fever was back as well, and his leg would tremble uncontrollably, sending a white-hot knife of pain right through him. One more arrow, and I'll rest, he told himself, half a hundred times. Just one more. Whenever his quiver was empty, one of the orphaned moles would bring him another. One more quiver, and I'm done. It couldn't belong until the dawn.\\n\\nWhen morning came, none of them quite realized it at first. The world was still dark, but the black had turned to grey and shapes were beginning to emerge half-seen from the gloom. Jon lowered his bow to stare at the mass of heavy clouds that covered the eastern sky. He could see aglow behind them, but perhaps he was only dreaming. He notched another arrow.\\n\\nThen the rising sun broke through to send pale lances of light across the battleground. Jon found himself holding his breath as he looked out over the half-mile swath of cleared land that lay between the Wall and the edge of the forest. In half a night they had turned it into a wasteland of blackened grass, bubbling pitch, shattered stone, and corpses. The carcass of the burned mammoth was already drawing crows. There were giants dead on the ground as well, but behind them...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Someone moaned to his left, and he heard Septon Cellador say, \\\"Mother have mercy, oh.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Oh, oh, oh, Mother have mercy.\\\"\\n\\nBeneath the trees were all the wildlings in the world; raiders and giants, wargs and skinchangers, mountain men, salt sea sailors, ice river cannibals, cave dwellers with dyed faces, dog chariots from the Frozen Shore, Hornfoot men with their soles like boiled leather, all the queer wild folk Mance had gathered to break the Wall. This is not your land, Jon wanted to shout at them. There is no place for you here. Go away. He could hear Tormund Giantsbane laughing at that. \\\"You know nothing, Jon Snow,\\\" Ygritte would have said. He flexed his sword hand, opening and closing the fingers, though he knew full well that swords would not come into it up here.\\n\\nHe was chilled and feverish, and suddenly the weight of the longbow was too much. The battle with the Magnar had been nothing, he realized, and the night fight less than nothing, only a probe, a dagger in the dark to try and catch them unprepared. The real battle was only now beginning.\\n\\n\\\"I never knew there would be so many,\\\" Satin said.\\n\\nJon had. He had seen them before, but not like this, not drawn up in battle array. On the march the wildling column had sprawled overlong leagues like some enormous worm, but you never saw all of it at once. But now...\\n\\n\\\"Here they come,\\\" someone said in a hoarse voice.\\n\\nMammoths centered the wildling line, he saw, a hundred or more with giants on their backs clutching mauls and huge stone axes. More giants loped beside them, pushing along a tree trunk on great wooden wheels, its end sharpened to a point. A ram, he thought bleakly. If the gate still stood below, a few kisses from that thing would soon turn it into splinters. On either side of the giants came a wave of horsemen in boiled leather harness with fire-hardened lances, amass of running archers, hundreds of foot with spears, slings, clubs, and leathern shields. The bone chariots from the Frozen Shore clattered forward on the flanks, bouncing over rocks and roots behind teams of huge white dogs. The fury of the wild, Jon thought as he listened to the skirl of skins, to the dogs barking and baying, the mammoths trumpeting, the free folk whistling and screaming, the giants roaring in the Old Tongue. Their drums echoed off the ice like rolling thunder.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He could feel the despair all around him. \\\"There must be a hundred thousand,\\\" Satin wailed. \\\"How can we stop so many?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Wall will stop them,\\\" Jon heard himself say. He turned and said it again, louder. \\\"The Wall will stop them. The Wall defends itself.\\\" Hollow words, but he needed to say them, almost as much as his brothers needed to hear them. \\\"Mance wants to unman us with his numbers. Does he think we're stupid?\\\" He was shouting now, his leg forgotten, and every man was listening. \\\"The chariots, the horsemen, all those fools on foot... what are they going to do to us up here? Any of you ever see a mammoth climb a wall?\\\" He laughed, and Pyp and Owen and half a dozen more laughed with him. \\\"They're nothing, they're less use than our straw brothers here, they can't reach us, they can't hurt us, and they don't frighten us, do they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"NO!\\\" Grenn shouted.\\n\\n\\\"They're down there and we're up here,\\\" Jon said, \\\"and so long as we hold the gate they cannot pass. They cannot pass!\\\" They were all shouting then, roaring his own words back at him, waving swords and longbows in the air as their cheeks flushed red. Jon saw Kegs standing therewith a warhorn slung beneath his arm. \\\"Brother,\\\" he told him, \\\"sound for battle.\\\"\\n\\nGrinning, Kegs lifted the horn to his lips, and blew the two long blasts that meant wildlings. Other horns took up the call until the Wall itself seemed to shudder, and the echo of those great deep-throated moans drowned all other sound.\\n\\n\\\"Archers,\\\" Jon said when the horns had died away, \\\"you'll aim for the giants with that ram, every bloody one of you. Loose at my command, not before. THE GIANTS AND THE RAM. I want arrows raining on them with every step, but we'll wait till they're in range. Any man who wastes an arrow will need to climb down and fetch it back, do you hear me?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I do,\\\" shouted Owen the Oaf.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I hear you, Lord Snow.\\\"\\n\\nJon laughed, laughed like a drunk or a madman, and his men laughed with him. The chariots and the racing horsemen on the flanks were well ahead of the center now, he saw. The wildlings had not crossed a third of the half mile, yet their battle line was dissolving. \\\"Load the trebuchet with caltrops,\\\" Jon said. \\\"Owen, Kegs, angle the catapults toward the center. Scorpions, load with fire spears and loose at my command.\\\" He pointed at the Mole's Town boys. \\\"You, you, and you, standby with torches.\\\"\\n\\nThe wildling archers shot as they advanced; they would dash forward, stop, loose, then run another ten yards. There were so many that the air was constantly full of arrows, all falling woefully short. A waste, Jon thought. Their want of discipline is showing. The smaller horn-and-wood bows of the free folk were outranged by the great yew longbows of the Night's Watch, and the wildlings were trying to shoot at men seven hundred feet above them. \\\"Let them shoot,\\\" Jon said. \\\"Wait. Hold.\\\" Their cloaks were flapping behind them. \\\"The wind is in our faces, it will cost us range. Wait.\\\" Closer, closer. The skins wailed, the drums thundered, the wildling arrows fluttered and fell.\\n\\n\\\"DRAW.\\\" Jon lifted his own bow and pulled the arrow to his ear. Satin did the same, and Grenn, Owen the Oaf, Spare Boot, Black Jack Bulwer, Arron and Emrick. Zei hoisted her crossbow to her shoulder. Jon was watching the ram come on and on, the mammoths and giants lumbering forward on either side. They were so small he could have crushed them all in one hand, it seemed. If only my hand was big enough. Through the killing ground they came. A hundred crows rose from the carcass of the dead mammoth as the wildlings thundered past to either side of them. Closer and closer, until...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"LOOSE!\\\"\\n\\nThe black arrows hissed downward, like snakes on feathered wings. Jon did not wait to see where they struck. He reached fora second arrow as soon as the first left his bow. \\\"NOTCH. DRAW. LOOSE.\\\" As soon as the arrow flew he found another. \\\"NOTCH. DRAW. LOOSE.\\\" Again, and then again. Jon shouted for the trebuchet, and heard the creak and heavy thud as a hundred spiked steel caltrops went spinning through the air. \\\"Catapults,\\\" he called, \\\"scorpions. Bowmen, loose at will.\\\" Wildling arrows were striking the Wall now, a hundred feet below them. A second giant spun and staggered. Notch, draw, loose. A mammoth veered into another beside it, spilling giants on the ground. Notch, draw, loose. The ram was down and done, he saw, the giants who'd pushed it dead or dying. \\\"Fire arrows,\\\" he shouted. \\\"I want that ram burning.\\\" The screams of wounded mammoths and the booming cries of giants mingled with the drums and pipes to make an awful music, yet still his archers drew and loosed, as if they'd all gone as deaf as dead Dick Follard. They might be the dregs of the order, but they were men of the Night's Watch, or near enough as made no matter. That's why they shall not pass.\\n\\nOne of the mammoths was running berserk, smashing wildlings with his trunk and crushing archers underfoot. Jon pulled back his bow once more, and launched another arrow at the beast's shaggy back to urge him on. To east and west, the flanks of the wildling host had reached the Wall unopposed. The chariots drew in or turned while the horsemen milled aimlessly beneath the looming cliff of ice. \\\"At the gate!\\\" a shout came. Spare Boot, maybe. \\\"Mammoth at the gate!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Fire,\\\" Jon barked. \\\"Grenn, Pyp.\\\"\\n\\nGrenn thrust his bow aside, wrestled a barrel of oil onto its side, and rolled it to the edge of the Wall, where Pyp hammered out the plug that sealed it, stuffed in a twist of cloth, and set it alight with a torch. They shoved it over together. A hundred feet below it struck the Wall and burst, filling the air with shattered staves and burning oil. Grenn was rolling a second barrel to the precipice by then, and Kegs had one as well. Pyp lit them both. \\\"Got him!\\\" Satin shouted, his head sticking out so far that Jon was certain he was about to fall. \\\"Got him, got him, GOT him!\\\" He could hear the roar of fire. A flaming giant lurched into view, stumbling and rolling on the ground.\\n\\nThen suddenly the mammoths were fleeing, running from the smoke and flames and smashing into those behind them in their terror. Those went backward too, the giants and wildlings behind them scrambling to get out of their way. In half a heartbeat the whole center was collapsing. The horsemen on the flanks saw themselves being abandoned and decided to fallback as well, not one so much as blooded. Even the chariots rumbled off, having done nothing but look fearsome and make a lot of noise. When they break, they break hard, Jon Snow thought as he watched them reel away. The drums had all gone silent. How do you like that music, Mance? How do you like the taste of the Dornishman's wife? \\\"Do we have anyone hurt?\\\" he asked.\\n\\n\\\"The bloody buggers got my leg.\\\" Spare Boot plucked the arrow out and waved it above his head. \\\"The wooden one!\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2285,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 68"},{"from":"human","value":"That night, as he sat by his window drinking, he heard voices outside his door."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ser Kevan, come for my answer, he thought at once, but it was not his uncle who entered.\n\nTyrion rose to give Prince Oberyn a mocking bow. \"Are judges permitted to visit the accused?\"\n\n\"Princes are permitted to go where they will. Or so I told your guards.\" The Red Viper took a seat.\n\n\"My father will be displeased with you.\"\n\n\"The happiness of Tywin Lannister has never been high on my list of concerns. Is it Dornish wine you're drinking?\"\n\n\"From the Arbor.\"\n\nOberyn made a face. \"Red water. Did you poison him?\"\n\n\"No. Did you?\"\n\nThe prince smiled. \"Do all dwarfs have tongues like yours? Someone is going to cut it out one of these days.\"\n\n\"You are not the first to tell me that. Perhaps I should cut it out myself, it seems to make no end of trouble.\"\n\n\"So I've seen. I think I may drink some of Lord Redwyne's grape juice after all.\"\n\n\"As you like.\" Tyrion served him a cup.\n\nThe man took a sip, sloshed it about in his mouth, and swallowed. \"It will serve, for the moment. I will send you up some strong Dornish wine on the morrow.\" He took another sip. \"I have turned up that golden-haired whore I was hoping for.\"\n\n\"So you found Chataya's?\"\n\n\"At Chataya's I bedded the black-skinned girl. Alayaya, I believe she is called. Exquisite, despite the stripes on her back. But the whore I referred to is your sister.\"\n\n\"Has she seduced you yet?\" Tyrion asked, unsurprised."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Oberyn laughed aloud. \"No, but she will if I meet her price. The queen has even hinted at marriage. Her Grace needs another husband, and who better than a prince of Dorne? Ellaria believes I should accept. Just the thought of Cersei in our bed makes her wet, the randy wench. And we should not even need to pay the dwarf's penny. All your sister requires from me is one head, somewhat overlarge and missing a nose.\"\n\n\"And?\" said Tyrion, waiting.\n\nByway of answer Prince Oberyn swirled his wine, and said, \"When the Young Dragon conquered Dorne so long ago, he left the Lord of Highgarden to rule us after the Submission of Sunspear. This Tyrell moved with his tail from keep to keep, chasing rebels and making certain that our knees stayed bent. He would arrive in force, take a castle for his own, stay a moon's turn, and ride onto the next castle. It was his custom to turn the lords out of their own chambers and take their beds for himself. One night he found himself beneath a heavy velvet canopy. A sash hung down near the pillows, should he wish to summon a wench. He had a taste for Dornish women, this Lord Tyrell, and who can blame him? So he pulled upon the sash, and when he did the canopy above him split open, and a hundred red scorpions fell down upon his head. His death lit afire that soon swept across Dorne, undoing all the Young Dragon's victories in a fortnight. The kneeling men stood up, and we were free again.\"\n\n\"I know the tale,\" said Tyrion. \"What of it?\"\n\n\"Just this. If I should ever find a sash beside my own bed, and pull on it, I would sooner have the scorpions fall upon me than the queen in all her naked beauty.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tyrion grinned. \"We have that much in common, then.\"\n\n\"To be sure, I have much to thank your sister for. If not for her accusation at the feast, it might well be you judging me instead of me judging you.\" The prince's eyes were dark with amusement. \"Who knows more of poison than the Red Viper of Dorne, after all? Who has better reason to want to keep the Tyrells far from the crown? And with Joffrey in his grave, by Dornish law the Iron Throne should pass next to his sister Myrcella, who as it happens is betrothed to mine own nephew, thanks to you.\"\n\n\"Dornish law does not apply.\" Tyrion had been so ensnared in his own troubles that he'd never stopped to consider the succession. \"My father will crown Tommen, count on that.\"\n\n\"He may indeed crown Tommen, herein King's Landing. Which is not to say that my brother may not crown Myrcella, down in Sunspear. Will your father make war on your niece on behalf of your nephew? Will your sister?\" He gave a shrug. \"Perhaps I should marry Queen Cersei after all, on the condition that she support her daughter over her son. Do you think she would?\"\n\nNever, Tyrion wanted to say, but the word caught in his throat. Cersei always resented being excluded from power on account of her sex. If Dornish law applied in the west, she would be the heir to Casterly Rock in her own right. She and Jaime were twins, but Cersei had come first into the world, and that was all it took. By championing Myrcella's cause she would be championing her own. \"I do not know how my sister would choose, between Tommen and Myrcella,\" he admitted. \"It makes no matter. My father will never give her that choice.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Your father,\" said Prince Oberyn, \"may not live forever.\"\n\nSomething about the way he said it made the hairs on the back of Tyrion's neck bristle. Suddenly he was mindful of Elia again, and all that Oberyn had said as they crossed the field of ashes. He wants the head that spoke the words, not just the hand that swung the sword. \"It is not wise to speak such treasons in the Red Keep, my prince. The little birds are listening.\"\n\n\"Let them. Is it treason to say a man is mortal? Valar morghulis was how they said it in Valyria of old. All men must die. And the Doom came and proved it true.\" The Dornishman went to the window to gaze out into the night. \"It is being said that you have no witnesses for us.\"\n\n\"I was hoping one look at this sweet face of mine would be enough to persuade you all of my innocence.\"\n\n\"You are mistaken, my lord. The Fat Flower of Highgarden is quite convinced of your guilt, and determined to see you die. His precious Margaery was drinking from that chalice too, as he has reminded us half a hundred times.\"\n\n\"And you?\" said Tyrion.\n\n\"Men are seldom as they appear. You look so very guilty that I am convinced of your innocence. Still, you will likely be condemned. Justice is in short supply this side of the mountains. There has been none for Elia, Aegon, or Rhaenys. Why should there be any for you? Perhaps Joffrey's real killer was eaten by a bear. That seems to happen quite often in King's Landing. Oh, wait, the bear was at Harrenhal, now I remember.\"\n\n\"Is that the game we are playing?\" Tyrion rubbed at his scarred nose. He had nothing to lose by telling Oberyn the truth. \"There was a bear at Harrenhal, and it did kill Ser Amory Lorch.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"How sad for him,\" said the Red Viper."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And for you. Do all noseless men lie so badly, I wonder?\"\n\n\"I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father's bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names.\" He leaned forward. \"It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon's head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands.\"\n\n\"What is this, now? Truth, from a Lannister?\" Oberyn smiled coldly. \"Your father gave the commands, yes?\"\n\n\"No.\" He spoke the lie without hesitation, and never stopped to ask himself why he should.\n\nThe Dornishman raised one thin black eyebrow. \"Such a dutiful son. And such a very feeble lie. It was Lord Tywin who presented my sister's children to King Robert all wrapped up in crimson Lannister cloaks.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you ought to have this discussion with my father. He was there. I was at the Rock, and still so young that I thought the thing between my legs was only good for pissing.\"\n\n\"Yes, but you are here now, and in some difficulty, I would say. Your innocence maybe as plain as the scar on your face, but it will not save you. No more than your father will.\" The Dornish prince smiled. \"But I might.\"\n\n\"You?\" Tyrion studied him. \"You are one judge in three. How could you save me?\"\n\n\"Not as your judge. As your champion.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"JAIME\n\nA white book sat on a white table in a white room.\n\nThe room was round, its walls of whitewashed stone hung with white woolen tapestries. It formed the first floor of White Sword Tower, a slender structure of four stories built into an angle of the castle wall overlooking the bay. The undercroft held arms and armor, the second and third floors the small spare sleeping cells of the six brothers of the Kingsguard.\n\nOne of those cells had been his for eighteen years, but this morning he had moved his things to the topmost floor, which was given over entirely to the Lord Commander's apartments. Those rooms were spare as well, though spacious; and they were above the outer walls, which meant he would have a view of the sea. I will like that, he thought. The view, and all the rest.\n\nAs pale as the room, Jaime sat by the book in his Kingsguard whites, waiting for his Sworn Brothers. A longsword hung from his hip. From the wrong hip. Before he had always worn his sword on his left, and drawn it across his body when he unsheathed. He had shifted it to his right hip this morning, so as to be able to draw it with his left hand in the same manner, but the weight of it felt strange there, and when he had tried to pull the blade from the scabbard the whole motion seemed clumsy and unnatural. His clothing fit badly as well. He had donned the winter raiment of the Kingsguard, a tunic and breeches of bleached white wool and a heavy white cloak, but it all seemed to hang loose on him.\n\nJaime had spent his days at his brother's trial, standing well to the back of the hall. Either Tyrion never saw him there or he did not know him, but that was no surprise. Half the court no longer seemed to know him. I am a stranger in my own House. His son was dead, his father had disowned him, and his sister... she had not allowed him to be alone with her once, after that first day in the royal sept where Joffrey lay amongst the candles. Even when they bore him across the city to his tomb in the Great Sept of Baelor, Cersei kept a careful distance."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He looked about the Round Room once more. White wool hangings covered the walls, and there was a white shield and two crossed longswords mounted above the hearth. The chair behind the table was old black oak, with cushions of blanched cowhide, the leather worn thin. Worn by the bony arse of Barristan the Bold and Ser Gerold Hightower before him, by Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, Ser Ryam Redwyne, and the Demon of Darry, by Ser Duncan the Tall and the Pale Griffin Alyn Connington. How could the Kingslayer belong in such exalted company?\n\nYet here he was.\n\nThe table itself was old weirwood, pale as bone, carved in the shape of a huge shield supported by three white stallions. By tradition the Lord Commander sat at the top of the shield, and the brothers three to aside, on the rare occasions when all seven were assembled. The book that rested by his elbow was massive; two feet tall and afoot and a half wide, a thousand pages thick, fine white vellum bound between covers of bleached white leather with gold hinges and fastenings. The Book of the Brothers was its formal name, but more often it was simply called the White Book.\n\nWithin the White Book was the history of the Kingsguard. Every knight who'd ever served had a page, to record his name and deeds for all time. On the top left-hand corner of each page was drawn the shield the man had carried at the time he was chosen, inked in rich colors. Down in the bottom right corner was the shield of the Kingsguard; snow-white, empty, pure. The upper shields were all different; the lower shields were all the same. In the space between were written the facts of each man's life and service. The heraldic drawings and illuminations were done by septons sent from the Great Sept of Baelor three times a year, but it was the duty of the Lord Commander to keep the entries up to date."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"My duty, now. Once he learned to write with his left hand, that is. The White Book was well behind. The deaths of Ser Mandon Moore and Ser Preston Greenfield needed to be entered, and the brief bloody Kingsguard service of Sandor Clegane as well. New pages must be started for Ser Balon Swann, Ser Osmund Kettleblack, and the Knight of Flowers. I will need to summon a septon to draw their shields.\n\nSer Barristan Selmy had preceded Jaime as Lord Commander. The shield atop his page showed the arms of House Selmy: three stalks of wheat, yellow, on a brownfield. Jaime was amused, though unsurprised, to find that Ser Barristan had taken the time to record his own dismissal before leaving the castle.\n\nSer Barristan of House Selmy. Firstborn son of Ser Lyonel Selmy of Harvest Hall. Served as squire to Ser Manfred Swann. Named'the Bold\" in his 10th year, when he donned borrowed armor to appear as a mystery knight in the tourney at Blackhaven, where he was defeated and unmasked by Duncan, Prince of Dragonflies. Knighted in his 16th year by King Aegon V Targaryen, after performing great feats of prowess as a mystery knight in the winter tourney at King's Landing, defeating Prince Duncan the Small and Ser Duncan the Tall, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Slew Maelys the Monstrous, last of the Blackfyre Pretenders, in single combat during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Defeated Lormelle Long Lance and Cedrik Storm, the Bastard of Bronzegate. Named to the Kingsguard in his 23rd year, by Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower. Defended the passage against all challengers in the tourney of the Silver Bridge. Victor in the mêlée at Maidenpool. Brought King Aerys II to safety during the Defiance of Duskendale, despite an arrow wound in the chest. Avenged the murder of his Sworn Brother, Ser Gwayne Gaunt. Rescued Lady Jeyne Swann and her septa from the Kingswood Brotherhood, defeating Simon Toyne and the Smiling Knight, and slaying the former. In the Oldtown tourney, defeated and unmasked the mystery knight Blackshield, revealing him as the Bastard of Uplands. Sole champion of Lord Steffon's tourney at Storm's End, whereat he unhorsed Lord Robert Baratheon, Prince Oberyn Martell, Lord Leyton Hightower, Lord Jon Connington, Lord Jason Mallister, and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Wounded by arrow, spear, and sword at the Battle of the Trident whilst fighting beside his Sworn Brothers and Rhaegar Prince of Dragonstone. Pardoned, and named Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, by King Robert I Baratheon. Served in the honor guard that brought Lady Cersei of House Lannister to King's Landing towed King Robert. Led the attack on Old Wyk during Balon Greyjoy's Rebellion. Champion of the tourney at King's Landing, in his 57th year. Dismissed from service by King Joffrey I baratheon in his 61st year, for reasons of advanced age."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The earlier part of Ser Barristan's storied career had been entered by Ser Gerold Hightower in a big forceful hand. Selmy's own smaller and more elegant writing took over with the account of his wounding on the Trident.\n\nJaime's own page was scant by comparison.\n\nSer Jaime of House Lannister. Firstborn son of Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna of Casterly Rock. Served against the Kingswood Brotherhood as squire to Lord Summer Crakehall. Knighted in his 15th year by Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard, for valor in the field. Chosen for the Kingsguard in his 15th year by King Aerys II Targaryen. During the Sack of King's Landing, slew King Aerys II at the foot of the Iron Throne. Thereafter known as the'Kingslayer.\" Pardoned for his crime by King Robert I Baratheon. Served in the honor guard that brought his sister the Lady Cersei Lannister to King's Landing towed King Robert. Champion in the tourney held at King's Landing on the occasion of their wedding.\n\nSummed up like that, his life seemed a rather scant and mingy thing. Ser Barristan could have recorded a few of his other tourney victories, at least. And Ser Gerold might have written a few more words about the deeds he'd performed when Ser Arthur Dayne broke the Kingswood Brotherhood. He had saved Lord Sumner's life as Big Belly Ben was about to smash his head in, though the outlaw had escaped him. And he'd held his own against the Smiling Knight, though it was Ser Arthur who slew him. What a fight that was, and what a foe. The Smiling Knight was a madman, cruelty and chivalry all jumbled up together, but he did not know the meaning of fear. And Dayne, with Dawn in hand... The outlaw's longsword had so many notches by the end that Ser Arthur had stopped to let him fetch anew one. \"It's that white sword of yours I want,\" the robber knight told him as they resumed, though he was bleeding from a dozen wounds by then. \"Then you shall have it, ser,\" the Sword of the Morning replied, and made an end of it."},{"from":"human","value":"The world was simpler in those days, Jaime thought, and men as well as swords were made of finer steel."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Or was it only that he had been fifteen? They were all in their graves now, the Sword of the Morning and the Smiling Knight, the White Bull and Prince Lewyn, Ser Oswell Whent with his black humor, earnest Jon Darry, Simon Toyne and his Kingswood Brotherhood, bluff old Sumner Crakehall. And me, that boy I was... when did he die, I wonder? When I donned the white cloak? When I opened Aerys's throat? That boy had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne, but someplace along the way he had become the Smiling Knight instead.\n\nWhen he heard the door open, he closed the White Book and stood to receive his Sworn Brothers. Ser Osmund Kettleblack was the first to arrive. He gave Jaime a grin, as if they were old brothers-in-arms. \"Ser Jaime,\" he said, \"had you looked like this t'other night, I'd have known you at once.\"\n\n\"Would you indeed?\" Jaime doubted that. The servants had bathed him, shaved him, and washed and brushed his hair. When he looked in a glass, he no longer saw the man who had crossed the riverlands with Brienne... but he did not see himself either. His face was thin and hollow, and he had lines under his eyes. I look like some old man. \"Standby your seat, ser.\"\n\nKettleblack complied. The other Sworn Brothers filed in one by one. \"Sers,\" Jaime said in a formal tone when all five had assembled, \"who guards the king?\"\n\n\"My brothers Ser Osney and Ser Osfryd,\" Ser Osmund replied.\n\n\"And my brother Ser Garlan,\" said the Knight of Flowers.\n\n\"Will they keep him safe?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"They will, my lord.\"\n\n\"Be seated, then.\" The words were ritual. Before the seven could meet in session, the king's safety must be assured.\n\nSer Boros and Ser Meryn sat to his right, leaving an empty chair between them for Ser Arys Oakheart, off in Dorne. Ser Osmund, Ser Balon, and Ser Loras took the seats to his left. The old and the new. Jaime wondered if that meant anything. There had been times during its history where the Kingsguard had been divided against itself, most notably and bitterly during the Dance of the Dragons. Was that something he needed to fear as well?\n\nIt seemed queer to him to sit in the Lord Commander's seat where Barristan the Bold had sat for so many years. And even queerer to sit here crippled. Nonetheless, it was his seat, and this was his Kingsguard now. Tommen's seven.\n\nJaime had served with Meryn Trant and Boros Blount for years; adequate fighters, but Trant was sly and cruel, and Blount a bag of growly air. Ser Balon Swann was better suited to his cloak, and of course the Knight of Flowers was supposedly all a knight should be. The fifth man was a stranger to him, this Osmund Kettleblack.\n\nHe wondered what Ser Arthur Dayne would have to say of this lot. \"How is it that the Kingsguard has fallen so low,\" most like. \"It was my doing,\" I would have to answer. \"I opened the door, and did nothing when the vermin began to crawl inside.\"\n\n\"The king is dead,\" Jaime began. \"My sister's son, a boy of thirteen, murdered at his own wedding feast in his own hall. All five of you were present. All five of you were protecting him. And yet he's dead.\" He waited to see what they would say to that, but none of them so much as cleared a throat. The Tyrell boy is angry, and Balon Swann's ashamed, he judged. From the other three Jaime sensed only indifference. \"Did my brother do this thing?\" he asked them bluntly. \"Did Tyrion poison my nephew?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ser Balon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Ser Boros made a fist. Ser Osmund gave a lazy shrug. It was Meryn Trant who finally answered. \"He filled Joffrey's cup with wine. That must have been when he slipped the poison in.\"\n\n\"You are certain it was the wine that was poisoned?\"\n\n\"What else?\" said Ser Boros Blount. \"The Imp emptied the dregs on the floor. Why, but to spill the wine that might have proved him guilty?\"\n\n\"He knew the wine was poisoned,\" said Ser Meryn.\n\nSer Balon Swann frowned. \"The Imp was not alone on the dais. Far from it. That late in the feast, we had people standing and moving about, changing places, slipping off to the privy, servants were coming and going... the king and queen had just opened the wedding pie, every eye was on them or those thrice-damned doves. No one was watching the wine cup.\"\n\n\"Who else was on the dais?\" asked Jaime.\n\nSer Meryn answered. \"The king's family, the bride's family, Grand Maester Pycelle, the High Septon...\"\n\n\"There's your poisoner,\" suggested Ser Oswald Kettleblack with a sly grin. \"Too holy by half, that old man. Never liked the look o\" him, myself.\" He laughed.\n\n\"No,\" the Knight of Flowers said, unamused. \"Sansa Stark was the poisoner. You all forget, my sister was drinking from that chalice as well. Sansa Stark was the only person in the hall who had reason to want Margaery dead, as well as the king. By poisoning the wedding cup, she could hope to kill both of them. And why did she run afterward, unless she was guilty?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The boy makes sense. Tyrion might yet be innocent. No one was any closer to finding the girl, however. Perhaps Jaime should look into that himself. Fora start, it would be good to know how she had gotten out of the castle. Varys may have a notion or two about that. No one knew the Red Keep better than the eunuch.\n\nThat could wait, however. Just now Jaime had more immediate concerns. You say you are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, his father had said. Go do your duty. These five were not the brothers he would have chosen, but they were the brothers he had; the time had come to take them in hand.\n\n\"Whoever did it,\" he told them, \"Joffrey is dead, and the Iron Throne belongs to Tommen now. I mean for him to sit on it until his hair turns white and his teeth fallout. And not from poison.\" Jaime turned to Ser Boros Blount. The man had grown stout in recent years, though he was big-boned enough to carry it. \"Ser Boros, you look like a man who enjoys his food. Henceforth you'll taste everything Tommen eats or drinks.\"\n\nSer Osmund Kettleblack laughed aloud and the Knight of Flowers smiled, but Ser Boros turned a deep beet red. \"I am no food taster! I am a knight of the Kingsguard!\"\n\n\"Sad to say, you are.\" Cersei should never have stripped the man of his white cloak. But their father had only compounded the shame by restoring it. \"My sister has told me how readily you yielded my nephew to Tyrion's sellswords. You will find carrots and pease less threatening, I hope. When your Sworn Brothers are training in the yard with sword and shield, you may train with spoon and trencher. Tommen loves applecakes. Try not to let any sellswords make off with them.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You speak tome thus? You?\"\n\n\"You should have died before you let Tommen betaken.\"\n\n\"As you died protecting Aerys, ser?\" Ser Boros lurched to his feet, and clasped the hilt of his sword. \"I won't... I won't suffer this. You should be the food taster, it seems tome. What else is a cripple good for?\"\n\nJaime smiled. \"I agree. I am as unfit to guard the king as you are. So draw that sword you're fondling, and we shall see how your two hands fare against my one. At the end one of us will be dead, and the Kingsguard will be improved.\" He rose. \"Or, if you prefer, you may return to your duties.\"\n\n\"Bah!\" Ser Boros hawked up a glob of green phlegm, spat it at Jaime's feet, and walked out, his sword still in its sheath.\n\nThe man is craven, and a good thing. Though fat, aging, and nevermore than ordinary, Ser Boros could still have hacked him into bloody pieces. But Boros does not know that, and neither must the rest. They feared the man I was; the man I am they'd pity.\n\nJaime seated himself again and turned to Kettleblack. \"Ser Osmund. I do not know you. I find that curious. I've fought in tourneys, mêlées, and battles throughout the Seven Kingdoms. I know of every hedge knight, freerider, and upjumped squire of any skill who has ever presumed to break a lance in the lists. So how is it that I have never heard of you, Ser Osmund?\"\n\n\"That I couldn't say, my lord.\" He had a great wide smile on his face, did Ser Osmund, as if he and Jaime were old comrades in arms playing some jolly little game. \"I'm a soldier, though, not no tourney knight.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Where had you served, before my sister found you?\"\n\n\"Here and there, my lord.\"\n\n\"I have been to Oldtown in the south and Winterfell in the north. I have been to Lannisport in the west, and King's Landing in the east. But I have never been to Here. Nor There.\" For want of a finger, Jaime pointed his stump at Ser Osmund's beak of a nose. \"I will ask once more. Where have you served?\"\n\n\"In the Stepstones. Some in the Disputed Lands. There's always fighting there. I rode with the Gallant Men. We fought for Lys, and some for Tyrosh.\"\n\nYou fought for anyone who would pay you. \"How did you come by your knighthood?\"\n\n\"On a battlefield.\"\n\n\"Who knighted you?\"\n\n\"Ser Robert... Stone. He's dead now, my lord.\"\n\n\"To be sure.\" Ser Robert Stone might have been some bastard from the Vale, he supposed, selling his sword in the Disputed Lands. On the other hand, he might be no more than a name Ser Osmund cobbled together from a dead king and a castle wall. What was Cersei thinking when she gave this one a white cloak?\n\nAt least Kettleblack would likely know how to use a sword and shield. Sellswords were seldom the most honorable of men, but they had to have a certain skill at arms to stay alive. \"Very well, ser,\" Jaime said. \"You may go.\"\n\nThe man's grin returned. He left swaggering.\n\n\"Ser Meryn.\" Jaime smiled at the sour knight with the rust-red hair and the pouches under his eyes. \"I have heard it said that Joffrey made use of you to chastise Sansa Stark.\" He turned the White Book around one-handed. \"Here, show me where it is in our vows that we swear to beat women and children.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"I did as His Grace commanded me."},{"from":"gpt","value":"We are sworn to obey.\"\n\n\"Henceforth you will temper that obedience. My sister is Queen Regent. My father is the King's Hand. I am Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Obey us. None other.\"\n\nSer Meryn got a stubborn look on his face. \"Are you telling us not to obey the king?\"\n\n\"The king is eight. Our first duty is to protect him, which includes protecting him from himself. Use that ugly thing you keep inside your helm. If Tommen wants you to saddle his horse, obey him. If he tells you to kill his horse, come tome.\"\n\n\"Aye. As you command, my lord.\"\n\n\"Dismissed.\" Ashe left, Jaime turned to Ser Balon Swann. \"Ser Balon, I have watched you tilt many a time, and fought with and against you in mêlées. I'm told you proved your valor a hundred times over during the Battle of the Blackwater. The Kingsguard is honored by your presence.\"\n\n\"The honor's mine, my lord.\" Ser Balon sounded wary.\n\n\"There is only one question I would put to you. You served us loyally, it's true... but Varys tells me that your brother rode with Renly and then Stannis, whilst your lord father chose not to call his banners at all and remained behind the walls of Stonehelm all through the fighting.\"\n\n\"My father is an old man, my lord. Well past forty. His fighting days are done.\"\n\n\"And your brother?\"\n\n\"Donnel was wounded in the battle and yielded to Ser Elwood Harte. He was ransomed afterward and pledged his fealty to King Joffrey, as did many other captives.\"\n\n\"So he did,\" said Jaime. \"Even so... Renly, Stannis, Joffrey, Tommen... how did he come to omit Balon Greyjoy and Robb Stark? He might have been the first knight in the realm to swear fealty to all six kings.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Ser Balon's unease was plain."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Donnel erred, but he is Tommen's man now. You have my word.\"\n\n\"It's not Ser Donnel the Constant who concerns me. It's you.\" Jaime leaned forward. \"What will you do if brave Ser Donnel gives his sword to yet another usurper, and one day comes storming into the throne room? And there you stand all in white, between your king and your blood. What will you do?\"\n\n\"I... my lord, that will never happen.\"\n\n\"It happened tome,\" Jaime said.\n\nSwann wiped his brow with the sleeve of his white tunic.\n\n\"You have no answer?\"\n\n\"My lord.\" Ser Balon drew himself up. \"On my sword, on my honor, on my father's name, I swear... I shall not do as you did.\"\n\nJaime laughed. \"Good. Return to your duties... and tell Ser Donnel to add a weathervane to his shield.\"\n\nAnd then he was alone with the Knight of Flowers.\n\nSlim as a sword, lithe and fit, Ser Loras Tyrell wore a snowy linen tunic and white wool breeches, with a gold belt around his waist and a gold rose clasping his fine silk cloak. His hair was a soft brown tumble, and his eyes were brown as well, and bright with insolence. He thinks this is a tourney, and his tilt has just been called. \"Seventeen and a knight of the Kingsguard,\" said Jaime. \"You must be proud. Prince Aemon the Dragonknight was seventeen when he was named. Did you know that?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\"\n\n\"And did you know that I was fifteen?\"\n\n\"That as well, my lord.\" He smiled."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jaime hated that smile. \"I was better than you, Ser Loras. I was bigger, I was stronger, and I was quicker.\"\n\n\"And now you're older,\" the boy said. \"My lord.\"\n\nHe had to laugh. This is too absurd. Tyrion would mock me unmercifully if he could hear me now, comparing cocks with this green boy. \"Older and wiser, ser. You should learn from me.\"\n\n\"As you learned from Ser Boros and Ser Meryn?\"\n\nThat arrow hit too close to the mark. \"I learned from the White Bull and Barristan the Bold,\" Jaime snapped. \"I learned from Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, who could have slain all five of you with his left hand while he was taking with a piss with the right. I learned from Prince Lewyn of Dorne and Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Jonothor Darry, good men everyone.\"\n\n\"Dead men, everyone.\"\n\nHe's me, Jaime realized suddenly. I am speaking to myself, as I was, all cocksure arrogance and empty chivalry. This is what it does to you, to be too good too young.\n\nAs in a swordfight, sometimes it is best to try a different stroke. \"It's said you fought magnificently in the battle... almost as well as Lord Renly's ghost beside you. A Sworn Brother has no secrets from his Lord Commander. Tell me, ser. Who was wearing Renly's armor?\"\n\nFora moment Loras Tyrell looked as though he might refuse, but in the end he remembered his vows. \"My brother,\" he said sullenly. \"Renly was taller than me, and broader in the chest. His armor was too loose on me, but it suited Garlan well.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Was the masquerade your notion, or his?\"\n\n\"Lord Littlefinger suggested it. He said it would frighten Stannis's ignorant men-at-arms.\"\n\n\"And so it did.\" And some knights and lordlings too. \"Well, you gave the singers something to make rhymes about, I suppose that's not to be despised. What did you do with Renly?\"\n\n\"I buried him with mine own hands, in a place he showed me once when I was a squire at Storm's End. No one shall ever find him thereto disturb his rest.\" He looked at Jaime defiantly. \"I will defend King Tommen with all my strength, I swear it. I will give my life for his if need be. But I will never betray Renly, byword or deed. He was the king that should have been. He was the best of them.\"\n\nThe best dressed perhaps, Jaime thought, but for once he did not say it. The arrogance had gone out of Ser Loras the moment he began to speak of Renly. He answered truly. He is proud and reckless and full of piss, but he is not false. Not yet. \"As you say. One more thing, and you may return to your duties.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord?\"\n\n\"I still have Brienne of Tarth in a tower cell.\"\n\nThe boy's mouth hardened. \"A black cell would be better.\"\n\n\"You are certain that's what she deserves?\"\n\n\"She deserves death. I told Renly that a woman had no place in the Rainbow Guard. She won the mêlée with a trick.\"\n\n\"I seem to recall another knight who was fond of tricks. He once rode a mare in heat against a foe mounted on a bad-tempered stallion. What sort of trickery did Brienne use?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ser Loras flushed. \"She leapt... it makes no matter. She won, I grant her that. His Grace put a rainbow cloak around her shoulders. And she killed him. Or let him die.\"\n\n\"A large difference there.\" The difference between my crime and the shame of Boros Blount.\n\n\"She had sworn to protect him. Ser Emmon Cuy, Ser Robar Royce, Ser Parmen Crane, they'd sworn as well. How could anyone have hurt him, with her inside his tent and the others just outside? Unless they were part of it.\"\n\n\"There were five of you at the wedding feast,\" Jaime pointed out. \"How could Joffrey die? Unless you were part of it?\"\n\nSer Loras drew himself up stiffly. \"There was nothing we could have done.\"\n\n\"The wench says the same. She grieves for Renly as you do. I promise you, I never grieve for Aerys. Brienne's ugly, and pighead stubborn. But she lacks the wits to be a liar, and she is loyal past the point of sense. She swore an oath to bring me to King's Landing, and here I sit. This hand I lost... well, that was my doing as much as hers. Considering all she did to protect me, I have no doubt that she would have fought for Renly, had there been a foe to fight. But a shadow?\" Jaime shook his head. \"Draw your sword, Ser Loras. Show me how you'd fight a shadow. I should like to see that.\"\n\nSer Loras made no move to rise. \"She fled,\" he said. \"She and Catelyn Stark, they left him in his blood and ran. Why would they, if it was not their work?\" He stared at the table. \"Renly gave me the van. Otherwise it would have been me helping him don his armor. He often entrusted that task tome. We had... we had prayed together that night. I left him with her. Ser Parmen and Ser Emmon were guarding the tent, and Ser Robar Royce was there as well. Ser Emmon swore Brienne had... although...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes?\" Jaime prompted, sensing a doubt.\n\n\"The gorget was cut through. One clean stroke, through a steel gorget. Renly's armor was the best, the finest steel. How could she do that? I tried myself, and it was not possible. She's freakish strong fora woman, but even the Mountain would have needed a heavy axe. And why armor him and then cut his throat?\" He gave Jaime a confused look. \"If not her, though... how could it be a shadow?\"\n\n\"Ask her.\" Jaime came to a decision. \"Go to her cell. Ask your questions and hear her answers. If you are still convinced that she murdered Lord Renly, I will see that she answers for it. The choice will be yours. Accuse her, or release her. All I ask is that you judge her fairly, on your honor as a knight.\"\n\nSer Loras stood. \"I shall. On my honor.\"\n\n\"We are done, then.\"\n\nThe younger man started for the door. But there he turned back. \"Renly thought she was absurd. A woman dressed in man's mail, pretending to be a knight.\"\n\n\"If he'd ever seen her in pink satin and Myrish lace, he would not have complained.\"\n\n\"I asked him why he kept her close, if he thought her so grotesque. He said that all his other knights wanted things of him, castles or honors or riches, but all that Brienne wanted was to die for him. When I saw him all bloody, with her fled and the three of them unharmed... if she's innocent, then Robar and Emmon...\" He could not seem to say the words.\n\nJaime had not stopped to consider that aspect of it. \"I would have done the same, ser.\" The lie came easy, but Ser Loras seemed grateful for it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When he was gone, the Lord Commander sat alone in the white room, wondering. The Knight of Flowers had been so mad with grief for Renly that he had cut down two of his own Sworn Brothers, but it had never occurred to Jaime to do the same with the five who had failed Joffrey. He was my son, my secret son... What am I, if I do not lift the hand I have left to avenge mine own blood and seed? He ought to kill Ser Boros at least, just to be rid of him.\n\nHe looked at his stump and grimaced. I must do something about that. If the late Ser Jacelyn Bywater could wear an iron hand, he should have a gold one. Cersei might like that. A golden hand to stroke her golden hair, and hold her hard against me.\n\nHis hand could wait, though. There were other things to tend to first. There were other debts to pay."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"SANSA\n\nThe ladder to the forecastle was steep and splintery, so Sansa accepted a hand up from Lothor Brune. Ser Lothor, she had to remind herself; the man had been knighted for his valor in the Battle of the Blackwater. Though no proper knight would wear those patched brown breeches and scuffed boots, nor that cracked and water-stained leather jerkin. A square-faced stocky man with a squashed nose and a mat of nappy grey hair, Brune spoke seldom. He is stronger than he looks, though. She could tell by the ease with which he lifted her, as if she weighed nothing at all.\n\nOff the bow of the Merling King stretched a bare and stony strand, windswept, treeless, and uninviting. Even so, it made a welcome sight. They had been along while clawing their way back on course. The last storm had swept them out of sight of land, and sent such waves crashing over the sides of the galley that Sansa had been certain they were all going to drown. Two men had been swept overboard, she had heard old Oswell saying, and another had fallen from the mast and broken his neck.\n\nShe had seldom ventured out on deck herself. Her little cabin was dank and cold, but Sansa had been sick for most of the voyage... sick with terror, sick with fever, or seasick... she could keep nothing down, and even sleep came hard. Whenever she closed her eyes she saw Joffrey tearing at his collar, clawing at the soft skin of his throat, dying with flakes of piecrust on his lips and wine stains on his doublet. And the wind keening in the lines reminded her of the terrible thin sucking sound he'd made as he fought to draw in air. Sometimes she dreamed of Tyrion as well. \"He did nothing,\" she told Littlefinger once, when he paid a visit to her cabin to see if she were feeling any better."},{"from":"human","value":"\"He did not kill Joffrey, true, but the dwarf's hands are far from clean."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He had a wife before you, did you know that?\"\n\n\"He told me.\"\n\n\"And did he tell you that when he grew bored with her, he made a gift of her to his father's guardsmen? He might have done the same to you, in time. Shed no tears for the Imp, my lady.\"\n\nThe wind ran salty fingers through her hair, and Sansa shivered. Even this close to shore, the rolling of the ship made her tummy queasy. She desperately needed a bath and a change of clothes. I must look as haggard as a corpse, and smell of vomit.\n\nLord Petyr came up beside her, cheerful as ever. \"Good morrow. The salt air is bracing, don't you think? It always sharpens my appetite.\" He put a sympathetic arm about her shoulders. \"Are you quite well? You look so pale.\"\n\n\"It's only my tummy. The seasickness.\"\n\n\"A little wine will be good for that. We'll get you a cup, as soon as we're ashore.\" Petyr pointed to where an old flint tower stood outlined against a bleak grey sky, the breakers crashing on the rocks beneath it. \"Cheerful, is it not? I fear there's no safe anchorage here. We'll put ashore in a boat.\"\n\n\"Here?\" She did not want to go ashore here. The Fingers were a dismal place, she'd heard, and there was something forlorn and desolate about the little tower. \"Couldn't I stay on the ship until we make sail for White Harbor?\"\n\n\"From here the King turns east for Braavos. Without us.\"\n\n\"But... my lord, you said... you said we were sailing home.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And there it stands, miserable as it is. My ancestral home. It has no name, I fear. A great lord's seat ought to have a name, wouldn't you agree? Winterfell, the Eyrie, Riverrun, those are castles. Lord of Harrenhal now, that has a sweet ring to it, but what was I before? Lord of Sheepshit and Master of the Drearfort? It lacks a certain something.\" His grey-green eyes regarded her innocently. \"You look distraught. Did you think we were making for Winterfell, sweetling? Winterfell has been taken, burned, and sacked. All those you knew and loved are dead. What northmen who have not fallen to the ironmen are warring amongst themselves. Even the Wallis under attack. Winterfell was the home of your childhood, Sansa, but you are no longer a child. You're a woman grown, and you need to make your own home.\"\n\n\"But not here,\" she said, dismayed. \"It looks so...\"\n\n\"... small and bleak and mean? It's all that, and less. The Fingers area lovely place, if you happen to be a stone. But have no fear, we shan't stay more than a fortnight. I expect your aunt is already riding to meet us.\" He smiled. \"The Lady Lysa and I are to be wed.\"\n\n\"Wed?\" Sansa was stunned. \"You and my aunt?\"\n\n\"The Lord of Harrenhal and the Lady of the Eyrie.\"\n\nYou said it was my mother you loved. But of course Lady Catelyn was dead, so even if she had loved Petyr secretly and given him her maidenhood, it made no matter now.\n\n\"So silent, my lady?\" said Petyr. \"I was certain you would wish to give me your blessing. It is a rare thing fora boy born heir to stones and sheep pellets towed the daughter of Hoster Tully and the widow of Jon Arryn.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I... I pray you will have long years together, and many children, and be very happy in one another.\" It had been years since Sansa last saw her mother's sister. She will be kind tome for my mother's sake, surely. She's my own blood. And the Vale of Arryn was beautiful, all the songs said so. Perhaps it would not be so terrible to stay here fora time.\n\nLothor and old Oswell rowed them ashore. Sansa huddled in the bow under her cloak with the hood drawn up against the wind, wondering what awaited her. Servants emerged from the tower to meet them; a thin old woman and a fat middle-aged one, two ancient white-haired men, and a girl of two or three with a sty on one eye. When they recognized Lord Petyr they knelt on the rocks. \"My household,\" he said. \"I don't know the child. Another of Kella's bastards, I suppose. She pops one out every few years.\"\n\nThe two old men waded out up to their thighs to lift Sansa from the boat so she would not get her skirts wet. Oswell and Lothor splashed their way ashore, as did Littlefinger himself. He gave the old woman a kiss on the cheek and grinned at the younger one. \"Who fathered this one, Kella?\"\n\nThe fat woman laughed. \"I can't rightly say, m'lord. I'm not one for telling them no.\"\n\n\"And all the local lads are grateful, I am quite sure.\"\n\n\"It is good to have you home, my lord,\" said one old man. He looked to beat least eighty, but he wore a studded brigantine and a longsword at his side. \"How long will you be in residence?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"As short a time as possible, Bryen, have no fear. Is the place habitable just now, would you say?\"\n\n\"If we knew you was coming we would have laid down fresh rushes, m'lord,\" said the crone. \"There's a dung fire burning.\"\n\n\"Nothing says homelike the smell of burning dung.\" Petyr turned to Sansa. \"Grisel was my wet nurse, but she keeps my castle now. Umfred's my steward, and Bryen-didn't I name you captain of the guard the last time I was here?\"\n\n\"You did, my lord. You said you'd begetting some more men too, but you never did. Me and the dogs stand all the watches.\"\n\n\"And very well, I'm sure. No one has made off with any of my rocks or sheep pellets, I see that plainly.\" Petyr gestured toward the fat woman. \"Kella minds my vast herds. How many sheep do I have at present, Kella?\"\n\nShe had to think a moment. \"Three and twenty, m'lord. There was nine and twenty, but Bryen's dogs killed one and we butchered some others and salted down the meat.\"\n\n\"Ah, cold salt mutton. I must be home. When I break my fast on gulls'eggs and seaweed soup, I'll be certain of it.\"\n\n\"If you like, m'lord,\" said the old woman Grisel.\n\nLord Petyr made a face. \"Come, let's see if my hall is as dreary as I recall.\" He led them up the strand over rocks slick with rotting seaweed. A handful of sheep were wandering about the base of the flint tower, grazing on the thin grass that grew between the sheepfold and thatched stable. Sansa had to step carefully; there were pellets everywhere."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Within, the tower seemed even smaller. An open stone stair wound round the inside wall, from undercroft to roof. Each floor was but a single room. The servants lived and slept in the kitchen at ground level, sharing the space with a huge brindled mastiff and a half-dozen sheep-dogs. Above that was a modest hall, and higher still the bedchamber. There were no windows, but arrowslits were embedded in the outer wall at intervals along the curve of the stair. Above the hearth hung a broken longsword and a battered oaken shield, its paint cracked and flaking.\n\nThe device painted on the shield was one Sansa did not know; a grey stone head with fiery eyes, upon alight greenfield. \"My grandfather's shield,\" Petyr explained when he saw her gazing at it. \"His own father was born in Braavos and came to the Vale as a sellsword in the hire of Lord Corbray, so my grandfather took the head of the Titan as his sigil when he was knighted.\"\n\n\"It's very fierce,\" said Sansa.\n\n\"Rather too fierce, for an amiable fellow like me,\" said Petyr. \"I much prefer my mockingbird.\"\n\nOswell made two more trips out to the Merling King to offload provisions. Among the loads he brought ashore were several casks of wine. Petyr poured Sansa a cup, as promised. \"Here, my lady, that should help your tummy, I would hope.\"\n\nHaving solid ground beneath her feet had helped already, but Sansa dutifully lifted the goblet with both hands and took a sip. The wine was very fine; an Arbor vintage, she thought. It tasted of oak and fruit and hot summer nights, the flavors blossoming in her mouth like flowers opening to the sun. She only prayed that she could keep it down. Lord Petyr was being so kind, she did not want to spoil it all by retching on him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He was studying her over his own goblet, his bright grey-green eyes full of... was it amusement? Or something else? Sansa was not certain. \"Grisel,\" he called to the old woman, \"bring some food up. Nothing too heavy, my lady has a tender tummy. Some fruit might serve, perhaps. Oswell's brought some oranges and pomegranates from the King.\"\n\n\"Yes, m'lord.\"\n\n\"Might I have a hot bath as well?\" asked Sansa.\n\n\"I'll have Kella draw some water, m'lady.\"\n\nSansa took another sip of wine and tried to think of some polite conversation, but Lord Petyr saved her the effort. When Grisel and the other servants had gone, he said, \"Lysa will not come alone. Before she arrives, we must be clear on who you are.\"\n\n\"Who I... I don't understand.\"\n\n\"Varys has informers everywhere. If Sansa Stark should be seen in the Vale, the eunuch will know within a moon's turn, and that would create unfortunate... complications. It is not safe to be a Stark just now. So we shall tell Lysa's people that you are my natural daughter.\"\n\n\"Natural?\" Sansa was aghast. \"You mean, a bastard?\"\n\n\"Well, you can scarcely be my trueborn daughter. I've never taken a wife, that's well known. What should you be called?\"\n\n\"I... I could call myself after my mother...\"\n\n\"Catelyn? A bit too obvious... but after my mother, that would serve. Alayne. Do you like it?\"\n\n\"Alayne is pretty.\" Sansa hoped she would remember. \"But couldn't I be the trueborn daughter of some knight in your service? Perhaps he died gallantly in the battle, and...\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"I have no gallant knights in my service, Alayne."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Such a tale would draw unwanted questions as a corpse draws crows. It is rude to pry into the origins of a man's natural children, however.\" He cocked his head. \"So, who are you?\"\n\n\"Alayne... Stone, would it be?\" When he nodded, she said, \"But who is my mother?\"\n\n\"Kella?\"\n\n\"Please no,\" she said, mortified.\n\n\"I was teasing. Your mother was a gentlewoman of Braavos, daughter of a merchant prince. We met in Gulltown when I had charge of the port. She died giving you birth, and entrusted you to the Faith. I have some devotional books you can look over. Learn to quote from them. Nothing discourages unwanted questions as much as a flow of pious bleating. In any case, at your flowering you decided you did not wish to be a septa and wrote tome. That was the first I knew of your existence.\" He fingered his beard. \"Do you think you can remember all that?\"\n\n\"I hope. It will be like playing a game, won't it?\"\n\n\"Are you fond of games, Alayne?\"\n\nThe new name would take some getting used to. \"Games? I... I suppose it would depend...\"\n\nGrisel reappeared before he could say more, balancing a large platter. She set it down between them. There were apples and pears and pomegranates, some sad-looking grapes, a huge blood orange. The old woman had brought around of bread as well, and a crock of butter. Petyr cut a pomegranate in two with his dagger, offering half to Sansa. \"You should try and eat, my lady.\"\n\n\"Thank you, my lord.\" Pomegranate seeds were so messy; Sansa chose a pear instead, and took a small delicate bite. It was very ripe. The juice ran down her chin."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Lord Petyr loosened a seed with the point of his dagger. \"You must miss your father terribly, I know. Lord Eddard was a brave man, honest and loyal... but quite a hopeless player.\" He brought the seed to his mouth with the knife. \"In King's Landing, there are two sorts of people. The players and the pieces.\"\n\n\"And I was apiece?\" She dreaded the answer.\n\n\"Yes, but don't let that trouble you. You're still half a child. Every man's apiece to start with, and every maid as well. Even some who think they are players.\" He ate another seed. \"Cersei, for one. She thinks herself sly, but in truth she is utterly predictable. Her strength rests on her beauty, birth, and riches. Only the first of those is truly her own, and it will soon desert her. I pity her then. She wants power, but has no notion what to do with it when she gets it. Everyone wants something, Alayne. And when you know what a man wants you know who he is, and how to move him.\"\n\n\"As you moved Ser Dontos to poison Joffrey?\" It had to have been Dontos, she had concluded.\n\nLittlefinger laughed. \"Ser Dontos the Red was a skin of wine with legs. He could never have been trusted with a task of such enormity. He would have bungled it or betrayed me. No, all Dontos had to do was lead you from the castle... and make certain you wore your silver hairnet.\"\n\nThe black amethysts. \"But... if not Dontos, who? Do you have other... pieces?\"\n\n\"You could turn King's Landing upside down and not find a single man with a mockingbird sewn over his heart, but that does not mean I am friendless.\" Petyr went to the steps. \"Oswell, come up here and let the Lady Sansa have a look at you.\""},{"from":"human","value":"The old man appeared a few moments later, grinning and bowing."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sansa eyed him uncertainly. \"What am I supposed to see?\"\n\n\"Do you know him?\" asked Petyr.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Look closer.\"\n\nShe studied the old man's lined windburnt face, hook nose, white hair, and huge knuckly hands. There was something familiar about him, yet Sansa had to shake her head. \"I don't. I never saw Oswell before I got into his boat, I'm certain.\"\n\nOswell grinned, showing a mouth of crooked teeth. \"No, but m'lady might of met my three sons.\"\n\nIt was the'three sons,\" and that smile too. \"Kettleblack!\" Sansa's eyes went wide. \"You're a Kettleblack!\"\n\n\"Aye, m'lady, as it please you.\"\n\n\"She's beside herself with joy.\" Lord Petyr dismissed him with a wave, and returned to the pomegranate again as Oswell shuffled down the steps. \"Tell me, Alayne-which is more dangerous, the dagger brandished by an enemy, or the hidden one pressed to your back by someone you never even see?\"\n\n\"The hidden dagger.\"\n\n\"There's a clever girl.\" He smiled, his thin lips bright red from the pomegranate seeds. \"When the Imp sent off her guards, the queen had Ser Lancel hire sellswords for her. Lancel found her the Kettleblacks, which delighted your little lord husband, since the lads were in his pay through his man Bronn.\" He chuckled. \"But it was me who told Oswell to get his sons to King's Landing when I learned that Bronn was looking for swords. Three hidden daggers, Alayne, now perfectly placed.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"So one of the Kettleblacks put the poison in Joff's cup?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ser Osmund had been near the king all night, she remembered.\n\n\"Did I say that?\" Lord Petyr cut the blood orange in two with his dagger and offered half to Sansa. \"The lads are far too treacherous to be part of any such scheme... and Osmund has become especially unreliable since he joined the Kingsguard. That white cloak does things to a man, I find. Even a manlike him.\" He tilted his chin back and squeezed the blood orange, so the juice ran down into his mouth. \"I love the juice but I loathe the sticky fingers,\" he complained, wiping his hands. \"Clean hands, Sansa. Whatever you do, make certain your hands are clean.\"\n\nSansa spooned up some juice from her own orange. \"But if it wasn't the Kettleblacks and it wasn't Ser Dontos... you weren't even in the city, and it couldn't have been Tyrion...\"\n\n\"No more guesses, sweetling?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"I don't...\"\n\nPetyr smiled. \"I will wager you that at some point during the evening someone told you that your hairnet was crooked and straightened it for you.\"\n\nSansa raised a hand to her mouth. \"You cannot mean... she wanted to take me to Highgarden, to marry me to her grandson...\"\n\n\"Gentle, pious, good-hearted Willas Tyrell. Be grateful you were spared, he would have bored you spitless. The old woman is not boring, though, I'll grant her that. A fearsome old harridan, and not near as frail as she pretends. When I came to Highgarden to dicker for Margaery's hand, she let her lord son bluster while she asked pointed questions about Joffrey's nature. I praised him to the skies, to be sure... whilst my men spread disturbing tales amongst Lord Tyrell's servants. That is how the game is played."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I also planted the notion of Ser Loras taking the white. Not that I suggested it, that would have been too crude. But men in my party supplied grisly tales about how the mob had killed Ser Preston Greenfield and raped the Lady Lollys, and slipped a few silvers to Lord Tyrell's army of singers to sing of Ryam Redwyne, Serwyn of the Mirror Shield, and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. A harp can be as dangerous as a sword, in the right hands.\n\n\"Mace Tyrell actually thought it was his own idea to make Ser Loras's inclusion in the Kingsguard part of the marriage contract. Who better to protect his daughter than her splendid knightly brother? And it relieved him of the difficult task of trying to find lands and a bride fora third son, never easy, and doubly difficult in Ser Loras's case.\n\n\"Be that as it may. Lady Olenna was not about to let Joff harm her precious darling granddaughter, but unlike her son she also realized that under all his flowers and finery, Ser Loras is as hot-tempered as Jaime Lannister. Toss Joffrey, Margaery, and Loras in a pot, and you've got the makings for kingslayer stew. The old woman understood something else as well. Her son was determined to make Margaery a queen, and for that he needed a king... but he did not need Joffrey. We shall have another wedding soon, wait and see. Margaery will marry Tommen. She'll keep her queenly crown and her maidenhead, neither of which she especially wants, but what does that matter? The great western alliance will be preserved... fora time, at least.\"\n\nMargaery and Tommen. Sansa did not know what to say. She had liked Margaery Tyrell, and her small sharp grandmother as well. She thought wistfully of Highgarden with its courtyards and musicians, and the pleasure barges on the Mander; afar cry from this bleak shore. At least I am safe here. Joffrey is dead, he cannot hurt me anymore, and I am only a bastard girl now. Alayne Stone has no husband and no claim. And her aunt would soon be here as well. The long nightmare of King's Landing was behind her, and her mockery of a marriage as well. She could make herself anew home here, just as Petyr said."},{"from":"human","value":"It was eight long days until Lysa Arryn arrived."},{"from":"gpt","value":"On five of them it rained, while Sansa sat bored and restless by the fire, beside the old blind dog. He was too sick and toothless to walk guard with Bryen anymore, and mostly all he did was sleep, but when she patted him he whined and licked her hand, and after that they were fast friends. When the rains letup, Petyr walked with her around his holdings, which took less than half a day. He owned a lot of rocks, just as he had said. There was one place where the tide came jetting up out of a blowhole to shoot thirty feet into the air, and another where someone had chiseled the seven-pointed star of the new gods upon a boulder. Petyr said that marked one of the places the Andals had landed, when they came across the sea to wrest the Vale from the First Men.\n\nFarther inland a dozen families lived in huts of piled stone beside a peat bog. \"Mine own smallfolk,\" Petyr said, though only the oldest seemed to know him. There was a hermit's cave on his land as well, but no hermit. \"He's dead now, but when I was a boy my father took me to see him. The man had not washed in forty years, so you can imagine how he smelled, but supposedly he had the gift of prophecy. He groped me a bit and said I would be a great man, and for that my father gave him a skin of wine.\" Petyr snorted. \"I would have told him the same thing for half a cup.\"\n\nFinally, on a grey windy afternoon, Bryen came running back to the tower with his dogs barking at his heels, to announce that riders were approaching from the southwest. \"Lysa,\" Lord Petyr said. \"Come, Alayne, let us greet her.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They put on their cloaks and waited outside. The riders numbered no more than a score; a very modest escort, for the Lady of the Eyrie. Three maids rode with her, and a dozen household knights in mail and plate. She brought a septon as well, and a handsome singer with a wisp of a mustache and long sandy curls.\n\nCould that be my aunt? Lady Lysa was two years younger than Mother, but this woman looked ten years older. Thick auburn tresses fell down past her waist, but beneath the costly velvet gown and jeweled bodice her body sagged and bulged. Her face was pink and painted, her breasts heavy, her limbs thick. She was taller than Littlefinger, and heavier; nor did she show any grace in the clumsy way she climbed down off her horse.\n\nPetyr knelt to kiss her fingers. \"The king's small council commanded me to woo and win you, my lady. Do you think you might have me for your lord and husband?\"\n\nLady Lysa pooched her lips and pulled him up to plant a kiss upon his cheek. \"Oh, mayhaps I could be persuaded.\" She giggled. \"Have you brought gifts to melt my heart?\"\n\n\"The king's peace.\"\n\n\"Oh, poo to the peace, what else have you brought me?\"\n\n\"My daughter.\" Littlefinger beckoned Sansa forward with a hand. \"My lady, allow me to present you Alayne Stone.\"\n\nLysa Arryn did not seem greatly pleased to see her. Sansa did a deep curtsy, her head bowed. \"A bastard?\" she heard her aunt say. \"Petyr, have you been wicked? Who washer mother?\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 68\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"That night, as he sat by his window drinking, he heard voices outside his door.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Kevan, come for my answer, he thought at once, but it was not his uncle who entered.\\n\\nTyrion rose to give Prince Oberyn a mocking bow. \\\"Are judges permitted to visit the accused?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Princes are permitted to go where they will. Or so I told your guards.\\\" The Red Viper took a seat.\\n\\n\\\"My father will be displeased with you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The happiness of Tywin Lannister has never been high on my list of concerns. Is it Dornish wine you're drinking?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"From the Arbor.\\\"\\n\\nOberyn made a face. \\\"Red water. Did you poison him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. Did you?\\\"\\n\\nThe prince smiled. \\\"Do all dwarfs have tongues like yours? Someone is going to cut it out one of these days.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are not the first to tell me that. Perhaps I should cut it out myself, it seems to make no end of trouble.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So I've seen. I think I may drink some of Lord Redwyne's grape juice after all.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you like.\\\" Tyrion served him a cup.\\n\\nThe man took a sip, sloshed it about in his mouth, and swallowed. \\\"It will serve, for the moment. I will send you up some strong Dornish wine on the morrow.\\\" He took another sip. \\\"I have turned up that golden-haired whore I was hoping for.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So you found Chataya's?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At Chataya's I bedded the black-skinned girl. Alayaya, I believe she is called. Exquisite, despite the stripes on her back. But the whore I referred to is your sister.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Has she seduced you yet?\\\" Tyrion asked, unsurprised.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Oberyn laughed aloud. \\\"No, but she will if I meet her price. The queen has even hinted at marriage. Her Grace needs another husband, and who better than a prince of Dorne? Ellaria believes I should accept. Just the thought of Cersei in our bed makes her wet, the randy wench. And we should not even need to pay the dwarf's penny. All your sister requires from me is one head, somewhat overlarge and missing a nose.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And?\\\" said Tyrion, waiting.\\n\\nByway of answer Prince Oberyn swirled his wine, and said, \\\"When the Young Dragon conquered Dorne so long ago, he left the Lord of Highgarden to rule us after the Submission of Sunspear. This Tyrell moved with his tail from keep to keep, chasing rebels and making certain that our knees stayed bent. He would arrive in force, take a castle for his own, stay a moon's turn, and ride onto the next castle. It was his custom to turn the lords out of their own chambers and take their beds for himself. One night he found himself beneath a heavy velvet canopy. A sash hung down near the pillows, should he wish to summon a wench. He had a taste for Dornish women, this Lord Tyrell, and who can blame him? So he pulled upon the sash, and when he did the canopy above him split open, and a hundred red scorpions fell down upon his head. His death lit afire that soon swept across Dorne, undoing all the Young Dragon's victories in a fortnight. The kneeling men stood up, and we were free again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know the tale,\\\" said Tyrion. \\\"What of it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just this. If I should ever find a sash beside my own bed, and pull on it, I would sooner have the scorpions fall upon me than the queen in all her naked beauty.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tyrion grinned. \\\"We have that much in common, then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To be sure, I have much to thank your sister for. If not for her accusation at the feast, it might well be you judging me instead of me judging you.\\\" The prince's eyes were dark with amusement. \\\"Who knows more of poison than the Red Viper of Dorne, after all? Who has better reason to want to keep the Tyrells far from the crown? And with Joffrey in his grave, by Dornish law the Iron Throne should pass next to his sister Myrcella, who as it happens is betrothed to mine own nephew, thanks to you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Dornish law does not apply.\\\" Tyrion had been so ensnared in his own troubles that he'd never stopped to consider the succession. \\\"My father will crown Tommen, count on that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He may indeed crown Tommen, herein King's Landing. Which is not to say that my brother may not crown Myrcella, down in Sunspear. Will your father make war on your niece on behalf of your nephew? Will your sister?\\\" He gave a shrug. \\\"Perhaps I should marry Queen Cersei after all, on the condition that she support her daughter over her son. Do you think she would?\\\"\\n\\nNever, Tyrion wanted to say, but the word caught in his throat. Cersei always resented being excluded from power on account of her sex. If Dornish law applied in the west, she would be the heir to Casterly Rock in her own right. She and Jaime were twins, but Cersei had come first into the world, and that was all it took. By championing Myrcella's cause she would be championing her own. \\\"I do not know how my sister would choose, between Tommen and Myrcella,\\\" he admitted. \\\"It makes no matter. My father will never give her that choice.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your father,\\\" said Prince Oberyn, \\\"may not live forever.\\\"\\n\\nSomething about the way he said it made the hairs on the back of Tyrion's neck bristle. Suddenly he was mindful of Elia again, and all that Oberyn had said as they crossed the field of ashes. He wants the head that spoke the words, not just the hand that swung the sword. \\\"It is not wise to speak such treasons in the Red Keep, my prince. The little birds are listening.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Let them. Is it treason to say a man is mortal? Valar morghulis was how they said it in Valyria of old. All men must die. And the Doom came and proved it true.\\\" The Dornishman went to the window to gaze out into the night. \\\"It is being said that you have no witnesses for us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was hoping one look at this sweet face of mine would be enough to persuade you all of my innocence.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are mistaken, my lord. The Fat Flower of Highgarden is quite convinced of your guilt, and determined to see you die. His precious Margaery was drinking from that chalice too, as he has reminded us half a hundred times.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And you?\\\" said Tyrion.\\n\\n\\\"Men are seldom as they appear. You look so very guilty that I am convinced of your innocence. Still, you will likely be condemned. Justice is in short supply this side of the mountains. There has been none for Elia, Aegon, or Rhaenys. Why should there be any for you? Perhaps Joffrey's real killer was eaten by a bear. That seems to happen quite often in King's Landing. Oh, wait, the bear was at Harrenhal, now I remember.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is that the game we are playing?\\\" Tyrion rubbed at his scarred nose. He had nothing to lose by telling Oberyn the truth. \\\"There was a bear at Harrenhal, and it did kill Ser Amory Lorch.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"How sad for him,\\\" said the Red Viper.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And for you. Do all noseless men lie so badly, I wonder?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father's bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names.\\\" He leaned forward. \\\"It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon's head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is this, now? Truth, from a Lannister?\\\" Oberyn smiled coldly. \\\"Your father gave the commands, yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\" He spoke the lie without hesitation, and never stopped to ask himself why he should.\\n\\nThe Dornishman raised one thin black eyebrow. \\\"Such a dutiful son. And such a very feeble lie. It was Lord Tywin who presented my sister's children to King Robert all wrapped up in crimson Lannister cloaks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps you ought to have this discussion with my father. He was there. I was at the Rock, and still so young that I thought the thing between my legs was only good for pissing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, but you are here now, and in some difficulty, I would say. Your innocence maybe as plain as the scar on your face, but it will not save you. No more than your father will.\\\" The Dornish prince smiled. \\\"But I might.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You?\\\" Tyrion studied him. \\\"You are one judge in three. How could you save me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not as your judge. As your champion.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"JAIME\\n\\nA white book sat on a white table in a white room.\\n\\nThe room was round, its walls of whitewashed stone hung with white woolen tapestries. It formed the first floor of White Sword Tower, a slender structure of four stories built into an angle of the castle wall overlooking the bay. The undercroft held arms and armor, the second and third floors the small spare sleeping cells of the six brothers of the Kingsguard.\\n\\nOne of those cells had been his for eighteen years, but this morning he had moved his things to the topmost floor, which was given over entirely to the Lord Commander's apartments. Those rooms were spare as well, though spacious; and they were above the outer walls, which meant he would have a view of the sea. I will like that, he thought. The view, and all the rest.\\n\\nAs pale as the room, Jaime sat by the book in his Kingsguard whites, waiting for his Sworn Brothers. A longsword hung from his hip. From the wrong hip. Before he had always worn his sword on his left, and drawn it across his body when he unsheathed. He had shifted it to his right hip this morning, so as to be able to draw it with his left hand in the same manner, but the weight of it felt strange there, and when he had tried to pull the blade from the scabbard the whole motion seemed clumsy and unnatural. His clothing fit badly as well. He had donned the winter raiment of the Kingsguard, a tunic and breeches of bleached white wool and a heavy white cloak, but it all seemed to hang loose on him.\\n\\nJaime had spent his days at his brother's trial, standing well to the back of the hall. Either Tyrion never saw him there or he did not know him, but that was no surprise. Half the court no longer seemed to know him. I am a stranger in my own House. His son was dead, his father had disowned him, and his sister... she had not allowed him to be alone with her once, after that first day in the royal sept where Joffrey lay amongst the candles. Even when they bore him across the city to his tomb in the Great Sept of Baelor, Cersei kept a careful distance.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He looked about the Round Room once more. White wool hangings covered the walls, and there was a white shield and two crossed longswords mounted above the hearth. The chair behind the table was old black oak, with cushions of blanched cowhide, the leather worn thin. Worn by the bony arse of Barristan the Bold and Ser Gerold Hightower before him, by Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, Ser Ryam Redwyne, and the Demon of Darry, by Ser Duncan the Tall and the Pale Griffin Alyn Connington. How could the Kingslayer belong in such exalted company?\\n\\nYet here he was.\\n\\nThe table itself was old weirwood, pale as bone, carved in the shape of a huge shield supported by three white stallions. By tradition the Lord Commander sat at the top of the shield, and the brothers three to aside, on the rare occasions when all seven were assembled. The book that rested by his elbow was massive; two feet tall and afoot and a half wide, a thousand pages thick, fine white vellum bound between covers of bleached white leather with gold hinges and fastenings. The Book of the Brothers was its formal name, but more often it was simply called the White Book.\\n\\nWithin the White Book was the history of the Kingsguard. Every knight who'd ever served had a page, to record his name and deeds for all time. On the top left-hand corner of each page was drawn the shield the man had carried at the time he was chosen, inked in rich colors. Down in the bottom right corner was the shield of the Kingsguard; snow-white, empty, pure. The upper shields were all different; the lower shields were all the same. In the space between were written the facts of each man's life and service. The heraldic drawings and illuminations were done by septons sent from the Great Sept of Baelor three times a year, but it was the duty of the Lord Commander to keep the entries up to date.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"My duty, now. Once he learned to write with his left hand, that is. The White Book was well behind. The deaths of Ser Mandon Moore and Ser Preston Greenfield needed to be entered, and the brief bloody Kingsguard service of Sandor Clegane as well. New pages must be started for Ser Balon Swann, Ser Osmund Kettleblack, and the Knight of Flowers. I will need to summon a septon to draw their shields.\\n\\nSer Barristan Selmy had preceded Jaime as Lord Commander. The shield atop his page showed the arms of House Selmy: three stalks of wheat, yellow, on a brownfield. Jaime was amused, though unsurprised, to find that Ser Barristan had taken the time to record his own dismissal before leaving the castle.\\n\\nSer Barristan of House Selmy. Firstborn son of Ser Lyonel Selmy of Harvest Hall. Served as squire to Ser Manfred Swann. Named'the Bold\\\" in his 10th year, when he donned borrowed armor to appear as a mystery knight in the tourney at Blackhaven, where he was defeated and unmasked by Duncan, Prince of Dragonflies. Knighted in his 16th year by King Aegon V Targaryen, after performing great feats of prowess as a mystery knight in the winter tourney at King's Landing, defeating Prince Duncan the Small and Ser Duncan the Tall, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Slew Maelys the Monstrous, last of the Blackfyre Pretenders, in single combat during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Defeated Lormelle Long Lance and Cedrik Storm, the Bastard of Bronzegate. Named to the Kingsguard in his 23rd year, by Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower. Defended the passage against all challengers in the tourney of the Silver Bridge. Victor in the mêlée at Maidenpool. Brought King Aerys II to safety during the Defiance of Duskendale, despite an arrow wound in the chest. Avenged the murder of his Sworn Brother, Ser Gwayne Gaunt. Rescued Lady Jeyne Swann and her septa from the Kingswood Brotherhood, defeating Simon Toyne and the Smiling Knight, and slaying the former. In the Oldtown tourney, defeated and unmasked the mystery knight Blackshield, revealing him as the Bastard of Uplands. Sole champion of Lord Steffon's tourney at Storm's End, whereat he unhorsed Lord Robert Baratheon, Prince Oberyn Martell, Lord Leyton Hightower, Lord Jon Connington, Lord Jason Mallister, and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Wounded by arrow, spear, and sword at the Battle of the Trident whilst fighting beside his Sworn Brothers and Rhaegar Prince of Dragonstone. Pardoned, and named Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, by King Robert I Baratheon. Served in the honor guard that brought Lady Cersei of House Lannister to King's Landing towed King Robert. Led the attack on Old Wyk during Balon Greyjoy's Rebellion. Champion of the tourney at King's Landing, in his 57th year. Dismissed from service by King Joffrey I baratheon in his 61st year, for reasons of advanced age.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The earlier part of Ser Barristan's storied career had been entered by Ser Gerold Hightower in a big forceful hand. Selmy's own smaller and more elegant writing took over with the account of his wounding on the Trident.\\n\\nJaime's own page was scant by comparison.\\n\\nSer Jaime of House Lannister. Firstborn son of Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna of Casterly Rock. Served against the Kingswood Brotherhood as squire to Lord Summer Crakehall. Knighted in his 15th year by Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard, for valor in the field. Chosen for the Kingsguard in his 15th year by King Aerys II Targaryen. During the Sack of King's Landing, slew King Aerys II at the foot of the Iron Throne. Thereafter known as the'Kingslayer.\\\" Pardoned for his crime by King Robert I Baratheon. Served in the honor guard that brought his sister the Lady Cersei Lannister to King's Landing towed King Robert. Champion in the tourney held at King's Landing on the occasion of their wedding.\\n\\nSummed up like that, his life seemed a rather scant and mingy thing. Ser Barristan could have recorded a few of his other tourney victories, at least. And Ser Gerold might have written a few more words about the deeds he'd performed when Ser Arthur Dayne broke the Kingswood Brotherhood. He had saved Lord Sumner's life as Big Belly Ben was about to smash his head in, though the outlaw had escaped him. And he'd held his own against the Smiling Knight, though it was Ser Arthur who slew him. What a fight that was, and what a foe. The Smiling Knight was a madman, cruelty and chivalry all jumbled up together, but he did not know the meaning of fear. And Dayne, with Dawn in hand... The outlaw's longsword had so many notches by the end that Ser Arthur had stopped to let him fetch anew one. \\\"It's that white sword of yours I want,\\\" the robber knight told him as they resumed, though he was bleeding from a dozen wounds by then. \\\"Then you shall have it, ser,\\\" the Sword of the Morning replied, and made an end of it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The world was simpler in those days, Jaime thought, and men as well as swords were made of finer steel.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Or was it only that he had been fifteen? They were all in their graves now, the Sword of the Morning and the Smiling Knight, the White Bull and Prince Lewyn, Ser Oswell Whent with his black humor, earnest Jon Darry, Simon Toyne and his Kingswood Brotherhood, bluff old Sumner Crakehall. And me, that boy I was... when did he die, I wonder? When I donned the white cloak? When I opened Aerys's throat? That boy had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne, but someplace along the way he had become the Smiling Knight instead.\\n\\nWhen he heard the door open, he closed the White Book and stood to receive his Sworn Brothers. Ser Osmund Kettleblack was the first to arrive. He gave Jaime a grin, as if they were old brothers-in-arms. \\\"Ser Jaime,\\\" he said, \\\"had you looked like this t'other night, I'd have known you at once.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Would you indeed?\\\" Jaime doubted that. The servants had bathed him, shaved him, and washed and brushed his hair. When he looked in a glass, he no longer saw the man who had crossed the riverlands with Brienne... but he did not see himself either. His face was thin and hollow, and he had lines under his eyes. I look like some old man. \\\"Standby your seat, ser.\\\"\\n\\nKettleblack complied. The other Sworn Brothers filed in one by one. \\\"Sers,\\\" Jaime said in a formal tone when all five had assembled, \\\"who guards the king?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My brothers Ser Osney and Ser Osfryd,\\\" Ser Osmund replied.\\n\\n\\\"And my brother Ser Garlan,\\\" said the Knight of Flowers.\\n\\n\\\"Will they keep him safe?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They will, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Be seated, then.\\\" The words were ritual. Before the seven could meet in session, the king's safety must be assured.\\n\\nSer Boros and Ser Meryn sat to his right, leaving an empty chair between them for Ser Arys Oakheart, off in Dorne. Ser Osmund, Ser Balon, and Ser Loras took the seats to his left. The old and the new. Jaime wondered if that meant anything. There had been times during its history where the Kingsguard had been divided against itself, most notably and bitterly during the Dance of the Dragons. Was that something he needed to fear as well?\\n\\nIt seemed queer to him to sit in the Lord Commander's seat where Barristan the Bold had sat for so many years. And even queerer to sit here crippled. Nonetheless, it was his seat, and this was his Kingsguard now. Tommen's seven.\\n\\nJaime had served with Meryn Trant and Boros Blount for years; adequate fighters, but Trant was sly and cruel, and Blount a bag of growly air. Ser Balon Swann was better suited to his cloak, and of course the Knight of Flowers was supposedly all a knight should be. The fifth man was a stranger to him, this Osmund Kettleblack.\\n\\nHe wondered what Ser Arthur Dayne would have to say of this lot. \\\"How is it that the Kingsguard has fallen so low,\\\" most like. \\\"It was my doing,\\\" I would have to answer. \\\"I opened the door, and did nothing when the vermin began to crawl inside.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The king is dead,\\\" Jaime began. \\\"My sister's son, a boy of thirteen, murdered at his own wedding feast in his own hall. All five of you were present. All five of you were protecting him. And yet he's dead.\\\" He waited to see what they would say to that, but none of them so much as cleared a throat. The Tyrell boy is angry, and Balon Swann's ashamed, he judged. From the other three Jaime sensed only indifference. \\\"Did my brother do this thing?\\\" he asked them bluntly. \\\"Did Tyrion poison my nephew?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Balon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Ser Boros made a fist. Ser Osmund gave a lazy shrug. It was Meryn Trant who finally answered. \\\"He filled Joffrey's cup with wine. That must have been when he slipped the poison in.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are certain it was the wine that was poisoned?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What else?\\\" said Ser Boros Blount. \\\"The Imp emptied the dregs on the floor. Why, but to spill the wine that might have proved him guilty?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He knew the wine was poisoned,\\\" said Ser Meryn.\\n\\nSer Balon Swann frowned. \\\"The Imp was not alone on the dais. Far from it. That late in the feast, we had people standing and moving about, changing places, slipping off to the privy, servants were coming and going... the king and queen had just opened the wedding pie, every eye was on them or those thrice-damned doves. No one was watching the wine cup.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who else was on the dais?\\\" asked Jaime.\\n\\nSer Meryn answered. \\\"The king's family, the bride's family, Grand Maester Pycelle, the High Septon...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There's your poisoner,\\\" suggested Ser Oswald Kettleblack with a sly grin. \\\"Too holy by half, that old man. Never liked the look o\\\" him, myself.\\\" He laughed.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" the Knight of Flowers said, unamused. \\\"Sansa Stark was the poisoner. You all forget, my sister was drinking from that chalice as well. Sansa Stark was the only person in the hall who had reason to want Margaery dead, as well as the king. By poisoning the wedding cup, she could hope to kill both of them. And why did she run afterward, unless she was guilty?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The boy makes sense. Tyrion might yet be innocent. No one was any closer to finding the girl, however. Perhaps Jaime should look into that himself. Fora start, it would be good to know how she had gotten out of the castle. Varys may have a notion or two about that. No one knew the Red Keep better than the eunuch.\\n\\nThat could wait, however. Just now Jaime had more immediate concerns. You say you are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, his father had said. Go do your duty. These five were not the brothers he would have chosen, but they were the brothers he had; the time had come to take them in hand.\\n\\n\\\"Whoever did it,\\\" he told them, \\\"Joffrey is dead, and the Iron Throne belongs to Tommen now. I mean for him to sit on it until his hair turns white and his teeth fallout. And not from poison.\\\" Jaime turned to Ser Boros Blount. The man had grown stout in recent years, though he was big-boned enough to carry it. \\\"Ser Boros, you look like a man who enjoys his food. Henceforth you'll taste everything Tommen eats or drinks.\\\"\\n\\nSer Osmund Kettleblack laughed aloud and the Knight of Flowers smiled, but Ser Boros turned a deep beet red. \\\"I am no food taster! I am a knight of the Kingsguard!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sad to say, you are.\\\" Cersei should never have stripped the man of his white cloak. But their father had only compounded the shame by restoring it. \\\"My sister has told me how readily you yielded my nephew to Tyrion's sellswords. You will find carrots and pease less threatening, I hope. When your Sworn Brothers are training in the yard with sword and shield, you may train with spoon and trencher. Tommen loves applecakes. Try not to let any sellswords make off with them.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You speak tome thus? You?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You should have died before you let Tommen betaken.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you died protecting Aerys, ser?\\\" Ser Boros lurched to his feet, and clasped the hilt of his sword. \\\"I won't... I won't suffer this. You should be the food taster, it seems tome. What else is a cripple good for?\\\"\\n\\nJaime smiled. \\\"I agree. I am as unfit to guard the king as you are. So draw that sword you're fondling, and we shall see how your two hands fare against my one. At the end one of us will be dead, and the Kingsguard will be improved.\\\" He rose. \\\"Or, if you prefer, you may return to your duties.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bah!\\\" Ser Boros hawked up a glob of green phlegm, spat it at Jaime's feet, and walked out, his sword still in its sheath.\\n\\nThe man is craven, and a good thing. Though fat, aging, and nevermore than ordinary, Ser Boros could still have hacked him into bloody pieces. But Boros does not know that, and neither must the rest. They feared the man I was; the man I am they'd pity.\\n\\nJaime seated himself again and turned to Kettleblack. \\\"Ser Osmund. I do not know you. I find that curious. I've fought in tourneys, mêlées, and battles throughout the Seven Kingdoms. I know of every hedge knight, freerider, and upjumped squire of any skill who has ever presumed to break a lance in the lists. So how is it that I have never heard of you, Ser Osmund?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That I couldn't say, my lord.\\\" He had a great wide smile on his face, did Ser Osmund, as if he and Jaime were old comrades in arms playing some jolly little game. \\\"I'm a soldier, though, not no tourney knight.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Where had you served, before my sister found you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Here and there, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have been to Oldtown in the south and Winterfell in the north. I have been to Lannisport in the west, and King's Landing in the east. But I have never been to Here. Nor There.\\\" For want of a finger, Jaime pointed his stump at Ser Osmund's beak of a nose. \\\"I will ask once more. Where have you served?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In the Stepstones. Some in the Disputed Lands. There's always fighting there. I rode with the Gallant Men. We fought for Lys, and some for Tyrosh.\\\"\\n\\nYou fought for anyone who would pay you. \\\"How did you come by your knighthood?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"On a battlefield.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who knighted you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ser Robert... Stone. He's dead now, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To be sure.\\\" Ser Robert Stone might have been some bastard from the Vale, he supposed, selling his sword in the Disputed Lands. On the other hand, he might be no more than a name Ser Osmund cobbled together from a dead king and a castle wall. What was Cersei thinking when she gave this one a white cloak?\\n\\nAt least Kettleblack would likely know how to use a sword and shield. Sellswords were seldom the most honorable of men, but they had to have a certain skill at arms to stay alive. \\\"Very well, ser,\\\" Jaime said. \\\"You may go.\\\"\\n\\nThe man's grin returned. He left swaggering.\\n\\n\\\"Ser Meryn.\\\" Jaime smiled at the sour knight with the rust-red hair and the pouches under his eyes. \\\"I have heard it said that Joffrey made use of you to chastise Sansa Stark.\\\" He turned the White Book around one-handed. \\\"Here, show me where it is in our vows that we swear to beat women and children.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I did as His Grace commanded me.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"We are sworn to obey.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Henceforth you will temper that obedience. My sister is Queen Regent. My father is the King's Hand. I am Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Obey us. None other.\\\"\\n\\nSer Meryn got a stubborn look on his face. \\\"Are you telling us not to obey the king?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The king is eight. Our first duty is to protect him, which includes protecting him from himself. Use that ugly thing you keep inside your helm. If Tommen wants you to saddle his horse, obey him. If he tells you to kill his horse, come tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye. As you command, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Dismissed.\\\" Ashe left, Jaime turned to Ser Balon Swann. \\\"Ser Balon, I have watched you tilt many a time, and fought with and against you in mêlées. I'm told you proved your valor a hundred times over during the Battle of the Blackwater. The Kingsguard is honored by your presence.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The honor's mine, my lord.\\\" Ser Balon sounded wary.\\n\\n\\\"There is only one question I would put to you. You served us loyally, it's true... but Varys tells me that your brother rode with Renly and then Stannis, whilst your lord father chose not to call his banners at all and remained behind the walls of Stonehelm all through the fighting.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My father is an old man, my lord. Well past forty. His fighting days are done.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And your brother?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Donnel was wounded in the battle and yielded to Ser Elwood Harte. He was ransomed afterward and pledged his fealty to King Joffrey, as did many other captives.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So he did,\\\" said Jaime. \\\"Even so... Renly, Stannis, Joffrey, Tommen... how did he come to omit Balon Greyjoy and Robb Stark? He might have been the first knight in the realm to swear fealty to all six kings.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Balon's unease was plain.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Donnel erred, but he is Tommen's man now. You have my word.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's not Ser Donnel the Constant who concerns me. It's you.\\\" Jaime leaned forward. \\\"What will you do if brave Ser Donnel gives his sword to yet another usurper, and one day comes storming into the throne room? And there you stand all in white, between your king and your blood. What will you do?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I... my lord, that will never happen.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It happened tome,\\\" Jaime said.\\n\\nSwann wiped his brow with the sleeve of his white tunic.\\n\\n\\\"You have no answer?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My lord.\\\" Ser Balon drew himself up. \\\"On my sword, on my honor, on my father's name, I swear... I shall not do as you did.\\\"\\n\\nJaime laughed. \\\"Good. Return to your duties... and tell Ser Donnel to add a weathervane to his shield.\\\"\\n\\nAnd then he was alone with the Knight of Flowers.\\n\\nSlim as a sword, lithe and fit, Ser Loras Tyrell wore a snowy linen tunic and white wool breeches, with a gold belt around his waist and a gold rose clasping his fine silk cloak. His hair was a soft brown tumble, and his eyes were brown as well, and bright with insolence. He thinks this is a tourney, and his tilt has just been called. \\\"Seventeen and a knight of the Kingsguard,\\\" said Jaime. \\\"You must be proud. Prince Aemon the Dragonknight was seventeen when he was named. Did you know that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And did you know that I was fifteen?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That as well, my lord.\\\" He smiled.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jaime hated that smile. \\\"I was better than you, Ser Loras. I was bigger, I was stronger, and I was quicker.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And now you're older,\\\" the boy said. \\\"My lord.\\\"\\n\\nHe had to laugh. This is too absurd. Tyrion would mock me unmercifully if he could hear me now, comparing cocks with this green boy. \\\"Older and wiser, ser. You should learn from me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you learned from Ser Boros and Ser Meryn?\\\"\\n\\nThat arrow hit too close to the mark. \\\"I learned from the White Bull and Barristan the Bold,\\\" Jaime snapped. \\\"I learned from Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, who could have slain all five of you with his left hand while he was taking with a piss with the right. I learned from Prince Lewyn of Dorne and Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Jonothor Darry, good men everyone.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Dead men, everyone.\\\"\\n\\nHe's me, Jaime realized suddenly. I am speaking to myself, as I was, all cocksure arrogance and empty chivalry. This is what it does to you, to be too good too young.\\n\\nAs in a swordfight, sometimes it is best to try a different stroke. \\\"It's said you fought magnificently in the battle... almost as well as Lord Renly's ghost beside you. A Sworn Brother has no secrets from his Lord Commander. Tell me, ser. Who was wearing Renly's armor?\\\"\\n\\nFora moment Loras Tyrell looked as though he might refuse, but in the end he remembered his vows. \\\"My brother,\\\" he said sullenly. \\\"Renly was taller than me, and broader in the chest. His armor was too loose on me, but it suited Garlan well.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Was the masquerade your notion, or his?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lord Littlefinger suggested it. He said it would frighten Stannis's ignorant men-at-arms.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And so it did.\\\" And some knights and lordlings too. \\\"Well, you gave the singers something to make rhymes about, I suppose that's not to be despised. What did you do with Renly?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I buried him with mine own hands, in a place he showed me once when I was a squire at Storm's End. No one shall ever find him thereto disturb his rest.\\\" He looked at Jaime defiantly. \\\"I will defend King Tommen with all my strength, I swear it. I will give my life for his if need be. But I will never betray Renly, byword or deed. He was the king that should have been. He was the best of them.\\\"\\n\\nThe best dressed perhaps, Jaime thought, but for once he did not say it. The arrogance had gone out of Ser Loras the moment he began to speak of Renly. He answered truly. He is proud and reckless and full of piss, but he is not false. Not yet. \\\"As you say. One more thing, and you may return to your duties.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, my lord?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I still have Brienne of Tarth in a tower cell.\\\"\\n\\nThe boy's mouth hardened. \\\"A black cell would be better.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are certain that's what she deserves?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She deserves death. I told Renly that a woman had no place in the Rainbow Guard. She won the mêlée with a trick.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I seem to recall another knight who was fond of tricks. He once rode a mare in heat against a foe mounted on a bad-tempered stallion. What sort of trickery did Brienne use?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Loras flushed. \\\"She leapt... it makes no matter. She won, I grant her that. His Grace put a rainbow cloak around her shoulders. And she killed him. Or let him die.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A large difference there.\\\" The difference between my crime and the shame of Boros Blount.\\n\\n\\\"She had sworn to protect him. Ser Emmon Cuy, Ser Robar Royce, Ser Parmen Crane, they'd sworn as well. How could anyone have hurt him, with her inside his tent and the others just outside? Unless they were part of it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There were five of you at the wedding feast,\\\" Jaime pointed out. \\\"How could Joffrey die? Unless you were part of it?\\\"\\n\\nSer Loras drew himself up stiffly. \\\"There was nothing we could have done.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The wench says the same. She grieves for Renly as you do. I promise you, I never grieve for Aerys. Brienne's ugly, and pighead stubborn. But she lacks the wits to be a liar, and she is loyal past the point of sense. She swore an oath to bring me to King's Landing, and here I sit. This hand I lost... well, that was my doing as much as hers. Considering all she did to protect me, I have no doubt that she would have fought for Renly, had there been a foe to fight. But a shadow?\\\" Jaime shook his head. \\\"Draw your sword, Ser Loras. Show me how you'd fight a shadow. I should like to see that.\\\"\\n\\nSer Loras made no move to rise. \\\"She fled,\\\" he said. \\\"She and Catelyn Stark, they left him in his blood and ran. Why would they, if it was not their work?\\\" He stared at the table. \\\"Renly gave me the van. Otherwise it would have been me helping him don his armor. He often entrusted that task tome. We had... we had prayed together that night. I left him with her. Ser Parmen and Ser Emmon were guarding the tent, and Ser Robar Royce was there as well. Ser Emmon swore Brienne had... although...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes?\\\" Jaime prompted, sensing a doubt.\\n\\n\\\"The gorget was cut through. One clean stroke, through a steel gorget. Renly's armor was the best, the finest steel. How could she do that? I tried myself, and it was not possible. She's freakish strong fora woman, but even the Mountain would have needed a heavy axe. And why armor him and then cut his throat?\\\" He gave Jaime a confused look. \\\"If not her, though... how could it be a shadow?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ask her.\\\" Jaime came to a decision. \\\"Go to her cell. Ask your questions and hear her answers. If you are still convinced that she murdered Lord Renly, I will see that she answers for it. The choice will be yours. Accuse her, or release her. All I ask is that you judge her fairly, on your honor as a knight.\\\"\\n\\nSer Loras stood. \\\"I shall. On my honor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We are done, then.\\\"\\n\\nThe younger man started for the door. But there he turned back. \\\"Renly thought she was absurd. A woman dressed in man's mail, pretending to be a knight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If he'd ever seen her in pink satin and Myrish lace, he would not have complained.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I asked him why he kept her close, if he thought her so grotesque. He said that all his other knights wanted things of him, castles or honors or riches, but all that Brienne wanted was to die for him. When I saw him all bloody, with her fled and the three of them unharmed... if she's innocent, then Robar and Emmon...\\\" He could not seem to say the words.\\n\\nJaime had not stopped to consider that aspect of it. \\\"I would have done the same, ser.\\\" The lie came easy, but Ser Loras seemed grateful for it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When he was gone, the Lord Commander sat alone in the white room, wondering. The Knight of Flowers had been so mad with grief for Renly that he had cut down two of his own Sworn Brothers, but it had never occurred to Jaime to do the same with the five who had failed Joffrey. He was my son, my secret son... What am I, if I do not lift the hand I have left to avenge mine own blood and seed? He ought to kill Ser Boros at least, just to be rid of him.\\n\\nHe looked at his stump and grimaced. I must do something about that. If the late Ser Jacelyn Bywater could wear an iron hand, he should have a gold one. Cersei might like that. A golden hand to stroke her golden hair, and hold her hard against me.\\n\\nHis hand could wait, though. There were other things to tend to first. There were other debts to pay.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"SANSA\\n\\nThe ladder to the forecastle was steep and splintery, so Sansa accepted a hand up from Lothor Brune. Ser Lothor, she had to remind herself; the man had been knighted for his valor in the Battle of the Blackwater. Though no proper knight would wear those patched brown breeches and scuffed boots, nor that cracked and water-stained leather jerkin. A square-faced stocky man with a squashed nose and a mat of nappy grey hair, Brune spoke seldom. He is stronger than he looks, though. She could tell by the ease with which he lifted her, as if she weighed nothing at all.\\n\\nOff the bow of the Merling King stretched a bare and stony strand, windswept, treeless, and uninviting. Even so, it made a welcome sight. They had been along while clawing their way back on course. The last storm had swept them out of sight of land, and sent such waves crashing over the sides of the galley that Sansa had been certain they were all going to drown. Two men had been swept overboard, she had heard old Oswell saying, and another had fallen from the mast and broken his neck.\\n\\nShe had seldom ventured out on deck herself. Her little cabin was dank and cold, but Sansa had been sick for most of the voyage... sick with terror, sick with fever, or seasick... she could keep nothing down, and even sleep came hard. Whenever she closed her eyes she saw Joffrey tearing at his collar, clawing at the soft skin of his throat, dying with flakes of piecrust on his lips and wine stains on his doublet. And the wind keening in the lines reminded her of the terrible thin sucking sound he'd made as he fought to draw in air. Sometimes she dreamed of Tyrion as well. \\\"He did nothing,\\\" she told Littlefinger once, when he paid a visit to her cabin to see if she were feeling any better.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He did not kill Joffrey, true, but the dwarf's hands are far from clean.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He had a wife before you, did you know that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He told me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And did he tell you that when he grew bored with her, he made a gift of her to his father's guardsmen? He might have done the same to you, in time. Shed no tears for the Imp, my lady.\\\"\\n\\nThe wind ran salty fingers through her hair, and Sansa shivered. Even this close to shore, the rolling of the ship made her tummy queasy. She desperately needed a bath and a change of clothes. I must look as haggard as a corpse, and smell of vomit.\\n\\nLord Petyr came up beside her, cheerful as ever. \\\"Good morrow. The salt air is bracing, don't you think? It always sharpens my appetite.\\\" He put a sympathetic arm about her shoulders. \\\"Are you quite well? You look so pale.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's only my tummy. The seasickness.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A little wine will be good for that. We'll get you a cup, as soon as we're ashore.\\\" Petyr pointed to where an old flint tower stood outlined against a bleak grey sky, the breakers crashing on the rocks beneath it. \\\"Cheerful, is it not? I fear there's no safe anchorage here. We'll put ashore in a boat.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Here?\\\" She did not want to go ashore here. The Fingers were a dismal place, she'd heard, and there was something forlorn and desolate about the little tower. \\\"Couldn't I stay on the ship until we make sail for White Harbor?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"From here the King turns east for Braavos. Without us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But... my lord, you said... you said we were sailing home.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And there it stands, miserable as it is. My ancestral home. It has no name, I fear. A great lord's seat ought to have a name, wouldn't you agree? Winterfell, the Eyrie, Riverrun, those are castles. Lord of Harrenhal now, that has a sweet ring to it, but what was I before? Lord of Sheepshit and Master of the Drearfort? It lacks a certain something.\\\" His grey-green eyes regarded her innocently. \\\"You look distraught. Did you think we were making for Winterfell, sweetling? Winterfell has been taken, burned, and sacked. All those you knew and loved are dead. What northmen who have not fallen to the ironmen are warring amongst themselves. Even the Wallis under attack. Winterfell was the home of your childhood, Sansa, but you are no longer a child. You're a woman grown, and you need to make your own home.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But not here,\\\" she said, dismayed. \\\"It looks so...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"... small and bleak and mean? It's all that, and less. The Fingers area lovely place, if you happen to be a stone. But have no fear, we shan't stay more than a fortnight. I expect your aunt is already riding to meet us.\\\" He smiled. \\\"The Lady Lysa and I are to be wed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Wed?\\\" Sansa was stunned. \\\"You and my aunt?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Lord of Harrenhal and the Lady of the Eyrie.\\\"\\n\\nYou said it was my mother you loved. But of course Lady Catelyn was dead, so even if she had loved Petyr secretly and given him her maidenhood, it made no matter now.\\n\\n\\\"So silent, my lady?\\\" said Petyr. \\\"I was certain you would wish to give me your blessing. It is a rare thing fora boy born heir to stones and sheep pellets towed the daughter of Hoster Tully and the widow of Jon Arryn.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I... I pray you will have long years together, and many children, and be very happy in one another.\\\" It had been years since Sansa last saw her mother's sister. She will be kind tome for my mother's sake, surely. She's my own blood. And the Vale of Arryn was beautiful, all the songs said so. Perhaps it would not be so terrible to stay here fora time.\\n\\nLothor and old Oswell rowed them ashore. Sansa huddled in the bow under her cloak with the hood drawn up against the wind, wondering what awaited her. Servants emerged from the tower to meet them; a thin old woman and a fat middle-aged one, two ancient white-haired men, and a girl of two or three with a sty on one eye. When they recognized Lord Petyr they knelt on the rocks. \\\"My household,\\\" he said. \\\"I don't know the child. Another of Kella's bastards, I suppose. She pops one out every few years.\\\"\\n\\nThe two old men waded out up to their thighs to lift Sansa from the boat so she would not get her skirts wet. Oswell and Lothor splashed their way ashore, as did Littlefinger himself. He gave the old woman a kiss on the cheek and grinned at the younger one. \\\"Who fathered this one, Kella?\\\"\\n\\nThe fat woman laughed. \\\"I can't rightly say, m'lord. I'm not one for telling them no.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And all the local lads are grateful, I am quite sure.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is good to have you home, my lord,\\\" said one old man. He looked to beat least eighty, but he wore a studded brigantine and a longsword at his side. \\\"How long will you be in residence?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"As short a time as possible, Bryen, have no fear. Is the place habitable just now, would you say?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If we knew you was coming we would have laid down fresh rushes, m'lord,\\\" said the crone. \\\"There's a dung fire burning.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nothing says homelike the smell of burning dung.\\\" Petyr turned to Sansa. \\\"Grisel was my wet nurse, but she keeps my castle now. Umfred's my steward, and Bryen-didn't I name you captain of the guard the last time I was here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You did, my lord. You said you'd begetting some more men too, but you never did. Me and the dogs stand all the watches.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And very well, I'm sure. No one has made off with any of my rocks or sheep pellets, I see that plainly.\\\" Petyr gestured toward the fat woman. \\\"Kella minds my vast herds. How many sheep do I have at present, Kella?\\\"\\n\\nShe had to think a moment. \\\"Three and twenty, m'lord. There was nine and twenty, but Bryen's dogs killed one and we butchered some others and salted down the meat.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah, cold salt mutton. I must be home. When I break my fast on gulls'eggs and seaweed soup, I'll be certain of it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If you like, m'lord,\\\" said the old woman Grisel.\\n\\nLord Petyr made a face. \\\"Come, let's see if my hall is as dreary as I recall.\\\" He led them up the strand over rocks slick with rotting seaweed. A handful of sheep were wandering about the base of the flint tower, grazing on the thin grass that grew between the sheepfold and thatched stable. Sansa had to step carefully; there were pellets everywhere.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Within, the tower seemed even smaller. An open stone stair wound round the inside wall, from undercroft to roof. Each floor was but a single room. The servants lived and slept in the kitchen at ground level, sharing the space with a huge brindled mastiff and a half-dozen sheep-dogs. Above that was a modest hall, and higher still the bedchamber. There were no windows, but arrowslits were embedded in the outer wall at intervals along the curve of the stair. Above the hearth hung a broken longsword and a battered oaken shield, its paint cracked and flaking.\\n\\nThe device painted on the shield was one Sansa did not know; a grey stone head with fiery eyes, upon alight greenfield. \\\"My grandfather's shield,\\\" Petyr explained when he saw her gazing at it. \\\"His own father was born in Braavos and came to the Vale as a sellsword in the hire of Lord Corbray, so my grandfather took the head of the Titan as his sigil when he was knighted.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's very fierce,\\\" said Sansa.\\n\\n\\\"Rather too fierce, for an amiable fellow like me,\\\" said Petyr. \\\"I much prefer my mockingbird.\\\"\\n\\nOswell made two more trips out to the Merling King to offload provisions. Among the loads he brought ashore were several casks of wine. Petyr poured Sansa a cup, as promised. \\\"Here, my lady, that should help your tummy, I would hope.\\\"\\n\\nHaving solid ground beneath her feet had helped already, but Sansa dutifully lifted the goblet with both hands and took a sip. The wine was very fine; an Arbor vintage, she thought. It tasted of oak and fruit and hot summer nights, the flavors blossoming in her mouth like flowers opening to the sun. She only prayed that she could keep it down. Lord Petyr was being so kind, she did not want to spoil it all by retching on him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He was studying her over his own goblet, his bright grey-green eyes full of... was it amusement? Or something else? Sansa was not certain. \\\"Grisel,\\\" he called to the old woman, \\\"bring some food up. Nothing too heavy, my lady has a tender tummy. Some fruit might serve, perhaps. Oswell's brought some oranges and pomegranates from the King.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, m'lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Might I have a hot bath as well?\\\" asked Sansa.\\n\\n\\\"I'll have Kella draw some water, m'lady.\\\"\\n\\nSansa took another sip of wine and tried to think of some polite conversation, but Lord Petyr saved her the effort. When Grisel and the other servants had gone, he said, \\\"Lysa will not come alone. Before she arrives, we must be clear on who you are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who I... I don't understand.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Varys has informers everywhere. If Sansa Stark should be seen in the Vale, the eunuch will know within a moon's turn, and that would create unfortunate... complications. It is not safe to be a Stark just now. So we shall tell Lysa's people that you are my natural daughter.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Natural?\\\" Sansa was aghast. \\\"You mean, a bastard?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, you can scarcely be my trueborn daughter. I've never taken a wife, that's well known. What should you be called?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I... I could call myself after my mother...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Catelyn? A bit too obvious... but after my mother, that would serve. Alayne. Do you like it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Alayne is pretty.\\\" Sansa hoped she would remember. \\\"But couldn't I be the trueborn daughter of some knight in your service? Perhaps he died gallantly in the battle, and...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I have no gallant knights in my service, Alayne.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Such a tale would draw unwanted questions as a corpse draws crows. It is rude to pry into the origins of a man's natural children, however.\\\" He cocked his head. \\\"So, who are you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Alayne... Stone, would it be?\\\" When he nodded, she said, \\\"But who is my mother?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kella?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Please no,\\\" she said, mortified.\\n\\n\\\"I was teasing. Your mother was a gentlewoman of Braavos, daughter of a merchant prince. We met in Gulltown when I had charge of the port. She died giving you birth, and entrusted you to the Faith. I have some devotional books you can look over. Learn to quote from them. Nothing discourages unwanted questions as much as a flow of pious bleating. In any case, at your flowering you decided you did not wish to be a septa and wrote tome. That was the first I knew of your existence.\\\" He fingered his beard. \\\"Do you think you can remember all that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hope. It will be like playing a game, won't it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you fond of games, Alayne?\\\"\\n\\nThe new name would take some getting used to. \\\"Games? I... I suppose it would depend...\\\"\\n\\nGrisel reappeared before he could say more, balancing a large platter. She set it down between them. There were apples and pears and pomegranates, some sad-looking grapes, a huge blood orange. The old woman had brought around of bread as well, and a crock of butter. Petyr cut a pomegranate in two with his dagger, offering half to Sansa. \\\"You should try and eat, my lady.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thank you, my lord.\\\" Pomegranate seeds were so messy; Sansa chose a pear instead, and took a small delicate bite. It was very ripe. The juice ran down her chin.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Lord Petyr loosened a seed with the point of his dagger. \\\"You must miss your father terribly, I know. Lord Eddard was a brave man, honest and loyal... but quite a hopeless player.\\\" He brought the seed to his mouth with the knife. \\\"In King's Landing, there are two sorts of people. The players and the pieces.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And I was apiece?\\\" She dreaded the answer.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, but don't let that trouble you. You're still half a child. Every man's apiece to start with, and every maid as well. Even some who think they are players.\\\" He ate another seed. \\\"Cersei, for one. She thinks herself sly, but in truth she is utterly predictable. Her strength rests on her beauty, birth, and riches. Only the first of those is truly her own, and it will soon desert her. I pity her then. She wants power, but has no notion what to do with it when she gets it. Everyone wants something, Alayne. And when you know what a man wants you know who he is, and how to move him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you moved Ser Dontos to poison Joffrey?\\\" It had to have been Dontos, she had concluded.\\n\\nLittlefinger laughed. \\\"Ser Dontos the Red was a skin of wine with legs. He could never have been trusted with a task of such enormity. He would have bungled it or betrayed me. No, all Dontos had to do was lead you from the castle... and make certain you wore your silver hairnet.\\\"\\n\\nThe black amethysts. \\\"But... if not Dontos, who? Do you have other... pieces?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You could turn King's Landing upside down and not find a single man with a mockingbird sewn over his heart, but that does not mean I am friendless.\\\" Petyr went to the steps. \\\"Oswell, come up here and let the Lady Sansa have a look at you.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The old man appeared a few moments later, grinning and bowing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sansa eyed him uncertainly. \\\"What am I supposed to see?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do you know him?\\\" asked Petyr.\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Look closer.\\\"\\n\\nShe studied the old man's lined windburnt face, hook nose, white hair, and huge knuckly hands. There was something familiar about him, yet Sansa had to shake her head. \\\"I don't. I never saw Oswell before I got into his boat, I'm certain.\\\"\\n\\nOswell grinned, showing a mouth of crooked teeth. \\\"No, but m'lady might of met my three sons.\\\"\\n\\nIt was the'three sons,\\\" and that smile too. \\\"Kettleblack!\\\" Sansa's eyes went wide. \\\"You're a Kettleblack!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye, m'lady, as it please you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She's beside herself with joy.\\\" Lord Petyr dismissed him with a wave, and returned to the pomegranate again as Oswell shuffled down the steps. \\\"Tell me, Alayne-which is more dangerous, the dagger brandished by an enemy, or the hidden one pressed to your back by someone you never even see?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The hidden dagger.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There's a clever girl.\\\" He smiled, his thin lips bright red from the pomegranate seeds. \\\"When the Imp sent off her guards, the queen had Ser Lancel hire sellswords for her. Lancel found her the Kettleblacks, which delighted your little lord husband, since the lads were in his pay through his man Bronn.\\\" He chuckled. \\\"But it was me who told Oswell to get his sons to King's Landing when I learned that Bronn was looking for swords. Three hidden daggers, Alayne, now perfectly placed.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So one of the Kettleblacks put the poison in Joff's cup?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Osmund had been near the king all night, she remembered.\\n\\n\\\"Did I say that?\\\" Lord Petyr cut the blood orange in two with his dagger and offered half to Sansa. \\\"The lads are far too treacherous to be part of any such scheme... and Osmund has become especially unreliable since he joined the Kingsguard. That white cloak does things to a man, I find. Even a manlike him.\\\" He tilted his chin back and squeezed the blood orange, so the juice ran down into his mouth. \\\"I love the juice but I loathe the sticky fingers,\\\" he complained, wiping his hands. \\\"Clean hands, Sansa. Whatever you do, make certain your hands are clean.\\\"\\n\\nSansa spooned up some juice from her own orange. \\\"But if it wasn't the Kettleblacks and it wasn't Ser Dontos... you weren't even in the city, and it couldn't have been Tyrion...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No more guesses, sweetling?\\\"\\n\\nShe shook her head. \\\"I don't...\\\"\\n\\nPetyr smiled. \\\"I will wager you that at some point during the evening someone told you that your hairnet was crooked and straightened it for you.\\\"\\n\\nSansa raised a hand to her mouth. \\\"You cannot mean... she wanted to take me to Highgarden, to marry me to her grandson...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gentle, pious, good-hearted Willas Tyrell. Be grateful you were spared, he would have bored you spitless. The old woman is not boring, though, I'll grant her that. A fearsome old harridan, and not near as frail as she pretends. When I came to Highgarden to dicker for Margaery's hand, she let her lord son bluster while she asked pointed questions about Joffrey's nature. I praised him to the skies, to be sure... whilst my men spread disturbing tales amongst Lord Tyrell's servants. That is how the game is played.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I also planted the notion of Ser Loras taking the white. Not that I suggested it, that would have been too crude. But men in my party supplied grisly tales about how the mob had killed Ser Preston Greenfield and raped the Lady Lollys, and slipped a few silvers to Lord Tyrell's army of singers to sing of Ryam Redwyne, Serwyn of the Mirror Shield, and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. A harp can be as dangerous as a sword, in the right hands.\\n\\n\\\"Mace Tyrell actually thought it was his own idea to make Ser Loras's inclusion in the Kingsguard part of the marriage contract. Who better to protect his daughter than her splendid knightly brother? And it relieved him of the difficult task of trying to find lands and a bride fora third son, never easy, and doubly difficult in Ser Loras's case.\\n\\n\\\"Be that as it may. Lady Olenna was not about to let Joff harm her precious darling granddaughter, but unlike her son she also realized that under all his flowers and finery, Ser Loras is as hot-tempered as Jaime Lannister. Toss Joffrey, Margaery, and Loras in a pot, and you've got the makings for kingslayer stew. The old woman understood something else as well. Her son was determined to make Margaery a queen, and for that he needed a king... but he did not need Joffrey. We shall have another wedding soon, wait and see. Margaery will marry Tommen. She'll keep her queenly crown and her maidenhead, neither of which she especially wants, but what does that matter? The great western alliance will be preserved... fora time, at least.\\\"\\n\\nMargaery and Tommen. Sansa did not know what to say. She had liked Margaery Tyrell, and her small sharp grandmother as well. She thought wistfully of Highgarden with its courtyards and musicians, and the pleasure barges on the Mander; afar cry from this bleak shore. At least I am safe here. Joffrey is dead, he cannot hurt me anymore, and I am only a bastard girl now. Alayne Stone has no husband and no claim. And her aunt would soon be here as well. The long nightmare of King's Landing was behind her, and her mockery of a marriage as well. She could make herself anew home here, just as Petyr said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"It was eight long days until Lysa Arryn arrived.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"On five of them it rained, while Sansa sat bored and restless by the fire, beside the old blind dog. He was too sick and toothless to walk guard with Bryen anymore, and mostly all he did was sleep, but when she patted him he whined and licked her hand, and after that they were fast friends. When the rains letup, Petyr walked with her around his holdings, which took less than half a day. He owned a lot of rocks, just as he had said. There was one place where the tide came jetting up out of a blowhole to shoot thirty feet into the air, and another where someone had chiseled the seven-pointed star of the new gods upon a boulder. Petyr said that marked one of the places the Andals had landed, when they came across the sea to wrest the Vale from the First Men.\\n\\nFarther inland a dozen families lived in huts of piled stone beside a peat bog. \\\"Mine own smallfolk,\\\" Petyr said, though only the oldest seemed to know him. There was a hermit's cave on his land as well, but no hermit. \\\"He's dead now, but when I was a boy my father took me to see him. The man had not washed in forty years, so you can imagine how he smelled, but supposedly he had the gift of prophecy. He groped me a bit and said I would be a great man, and for that my father gave him a skin of wine.\\\" Petyr snorted. \\\"I would have told him the same thing for half a cup.\\\"\\n\\nFinally, on a grey windy afternoon, Bryen came running back to the tower with his dogs barking at his heels, to announce that riders were approaching from the southwest. \\\"Lysa,\\\" Lord Petyr said. \\\"Come, Alayne, let us greet her.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They put on their cloaks and waited outside. The riders numbered no more than a score; a very modest escort, for the Lady of the Eyrie. Three maids rode with her, and a dozen household knights in mail and plate. She brought a septon as well, and a handsome singer with a wisp of a mustache and long sandy curls.\\n\\nCould that be my aunt? Lady Lysa was two years younger than Mother, but this woman looked ten years older. Thick auburn tresses fell down past her waist, but beneath the costly velvet gown and jeweled bodice her body sagged and bulged. Her face was pink and painted, her breasts heavy, her limbs thick. She was taller than Littlefinger, and heavier; nor did she show any grace in the clumsy way she climbed down off her horse.\\n\\nPetyr knelt to kiss her fingers. \\\"The king's small council commanded me to woo and win you, my lady. Do you think you might have me for your lord and husband?\\\"\\n\\nLady Lysa pooched her lips and pulled him up to plant a kiss upon his cheek. \\\"Oh, mayhaps I could be persuaded.\\\" She giggled. \\\"Have you brought gifts to melt my heart?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The king's peace.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, poo to the peace, what else have you brought me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My daughter.\\\" Littlefinger beckoned Sansa forward with a hand. \\\"My lady, allow me to present you Alayne Stone.\\\"\\n\\nLysa Arryn did not seem greatly pleased to see her. Sansa did a deep curtsy, her head bowed. \\\"A bastard?\\\" she heard her aunt say. \\\"Petyr, have you been wicked? Who washer mother?\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2286,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 70"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They put on their cloaks and waited outside. The riders numbered no more than a score; a very modest escort, for the Lady of the Eyrie. Three maids rode with her, and a dozen household knights in mail and plate. She brought a septon as well, and a handsome singer with a wisp of a mustache and long sandy curls.\n\nCould that be my aunt? Lady Lysa was two years younger than Mother, but this woman looked ten years older. Thick auburn tresses fell down past her waist, but beneath the costly velvet gown and jeweled bodice her body sagged and bulged. Her face was pink and painted, her breasts heavy, her limbs thick. She was taller than Littlefinger, and heavier; nor did she show any grace in the clumsy way she climbed down off her horse.\n\nPetyr knelt to kiss her fingers. \"The king's small council commanded me to woo and win you, my lady. Do you think you might have me for your lord and husband?\"\n\nLady Lysa pooched her lips and pulled him up to plant a kiss upon his cheek. \"Oh, mayhaps I could be persuaded.\" She giggled. \"Have you brought gifts to melt my heart?\"\n\n\"The king's peace.\"\n\n\"Oh, poo to the peace, what else have you brought me?\"\n\n\"My daughter.\" Littlefinger beckoned Sansa forward with a hand. \"My lady, allow me to present you Alayne Stone.\"\n\nLysa Arryn did not seem greatly pleased to see her. Sansa did a deep curtsy, her head bowed. \"A bastard?\" she heard her aunt say. \"Petyr, have you been wicked? Who washer mother?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The wench is dead. I'd hoped to take Alayne to the Eyrie.\"\n\n\"What am Ito do with her there?\"\n\n\"I have a few notions,\" said Lord Petyr. \"But just now I am more interested in what I might do with you, my lady.\"\n\nAll the sternness melted off her aunt's round pink face, and fora moment Sansa thought Lysa Arryn was about to cry. \"Sweet Petyr, I've missed you so, you don't know, you can't know. Yohn Royce has been stirring up all sorts of trouble, demanding that I call my banners and go to war. And the others all swarm around me, Hunter and Corbray and that dreadful Nestor Royce, all wanting towed me and take my son toward, but none of them truly love me. Only you, Petyr. I've dreamed of you so long.\"\n\n\"And I of you, my lady.\" He slid an arm around behind her and kissed heron the neck. \"How soon can we be wed?\"\n\n\"Now,\" said Lady Lysa, sighing. \"I've brought my own septon, and a singer, and mead for the wedding feast.\"\n\n\"Here?\" That did not please him. \"I'd sooner wed you at the Eyrie, with your whole court in attendance.\"\n\n\"Poo to my court. I have waited so long, I could not bear to wait another moment.\" She put her arms around him. \"I want to share your bed tonight, my sweet. I want us to make another child, a brother for Robert or a sweet little daughter.\"\n\n\"I dream of that as well, sweetling. Yet there is much to be gained from a great public wedding, with all the Vale-\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"No.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"She stamped afoot. \"I want you now, this very night. And I must warn you, after all these years of silence and whisperings, I mean to scream when you love me. I am going to scream so loud they'll hear me in the Eyrie!\"\n\n\"Perhaps I could bed you now, and wed you later?\"\n\nThe Lady Lysa giggled like a girl. \"Oh, Petyr Baelish, you are so wicked. No, I say no, I am the Lady of the Eyrie, and I command you towed me this very moment!\"\n\nPetyr gave a shrug. \"As my lady commands, then. I am helpless before you, as ever.\"\n\nThey said their vows within the hour, standing beneath a sky-blue canopy as the sun sank in the west. Afterward trestle tables were setup beneath the small flint tower, and they feasted on quail, venison, and roast boar, washing it down with a fine light mead. Torches were lit as dusk crept in. Lysa's singer played'The Vow Unspoken\" and'Seasons of My Love\" and'Two Hearts That Beat as One.\" Several younger knights even asked Sansa to dance. Her aunt danced as well, her skirts whirling when Petyr spun her in his arms. Mead and marriage had taken years off Lady Lysa. She laughed at everything so long as she held her husband's hand, and her eyes seemed to glow whenever she looked at him.\n\nWhen it was time for the bedding, her knights carried her up to the tower, stripping her as they went and shouting bawdy jests. Tyrion spared me that, Sansa remembered. It would not have been so bad being undressed fora man she loved, by friends who loved them both. By Joffrey, though... She shuddered."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Her aunt had brought only three ladies with her, so they pressed Sansa to help them undress Lord Petyr and march him up to his marriage bed. He submitted with good grace and a wicked tongue, giving as good as he got. By the time they had gotten him into the tower and out of his clothes, the other women were flushed, with laces unlaced, kirtles crooked, and skirts in disarray. But Littlefinger only smiled at Sansa as they marched him up to the bedchamber where his lady wife was waiting.\n\nLady Lysa and Lord Petyr had the third-story bedchamber to themselves, but the tower was small... and true to her word, her aunt screamed. It had begun to rain outside, driving the feasters into the hall one floor below, so they heard most every word. \"Petyr,\" her aunt moaned. \"Oh, Petyr, Petyr, sweet Petyr, oh oh oh. There, Petyr, there. That's where you belong.\" Lady Lysa's singer launched into a bawdy version of'Milady's Supper,\" but even his singing and playing could not drown out Lysa's cries. \"Make me a baby, Petyr,\" she screamed, \"make me another sweet little baby. Oh, Petyr, my precious, my precious, PEEEEEETYR!\" Her last shriek was so loud that it set the dogs to barking, and two of her aunt's ladies could scarce contain their mirth.\n\nSansa went down the steps and out into the night. Alight rain was falling on the remains of the feast, but the air smelled fresh and clean. The memory of her own wedding night with Tyrion was much with her. In the dark, I am the Knight of Flowers, he had said. I could be good to you. But that was only another Lannister lie. A dog can smell a lie, you know, the Hound had told her once. She could almost hear the rough rasp of his voice. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They're all liars here, and everyone better than you. She wondered what had become of Sandor Clegane. Did he know that they'd killed Joffrey? Would he care? He had been the prince's sworn shield for years."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She stayed outside fora longtime. When at last she sought her own bed, wet and chilled, only the dim glow of a peat fire lit the darkened hall. There was no sound from above. The young singer satin a corner, playing a slow song to himself. One of her aunt's maids was kissing a knight in Lord Petyr's chair, their hands busy beneath each other's clothing. Several men had drunk themselves to sleep, and one was in the privy, being noisily sick. Sansa found Bryen's old blind dog in her little alcove beneath the steps, and lay down next to him. He woke and licked her face. \"You sad old hound,\" she said, ruffling his fur.\n\n\"Alayne.\" Her aunt's singer stood over her. \"Sweet Alayne. I am Marillion. I saw you come in from the rain. The night is chill and wet. Let me warm you.\"\n\nThe old dog raised his head and growled, but the singer gave him a cuff and sent him slinking off, whimpering.\n\n\"Marillion?\" she said, uncertain. \"You are... kind to think of me, but... pray forgive me. I am very tired.\"\n\n\"And very beautiful. All night I have been making songs for you in my head. A lay for your eyes, a ballad for your lips, a duet to your breasts. I will not sing them, though. They were poor things, unworthy of such beauty.\" He sat on her bed and put his hand on her leg. \"Let me sing to you with my body instead.\"\n\nShe caught a whiff of his breath. \"You're drunk.\"\n\n\"I never get drunk. Mead only makes me merry. I am on fire.\" His hand slipped up to her thigh. \"And you as well.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Unhand me."},{"from":"gpt","value":"You forget yourself.\"\n\n\"Mercy. I have been singing love songs for hours. My blood is stirred. And yours, I know... there's no wench half so lusty as one bastard born. Are you wet for me?\"\n\n\"I'm a maiden,\" she protested.\n\n\"Truly? Oh, Alayne, Alayne, my fair maid, give me the gift of your innocence. You will thank the gods you did. I'll have you singing louder than the Lady Lysa.\"\n\nSansa jerked away from him, frightened. \"If you don't leave me, my au-my father will hang you. Lord Petyr.\"\n\n\"Littlefinger?\" He chuckled. \"Lady Lysa loves me well, and I am Lord Robert's favorite. If your father offends me, I will destroy him with averse.\" He put a hand on her breast, and squeezed. \"Let's get you out of these wet clothes. You wouldn't want them ripped, I know. Come, sweet lady, heed your heart-\"\n\nSansa heard the soft sound of steel on leather. \"Singer,\" a rough voice said, \"best go, if you want to sing again.\" The light was dim, but she saw a faint glimmer of a blade.\n\nThe singer saw it too. \"Find your own wench-\" The knife flashed, and he cried out. \"You cut me!\"\n\n\"I'll do worse, if you don't go.\"\n\nAnd quick as that, Marillion was gone. The other remained, looming over Sansa in the darkness. \"Lord Petyr said watch out for you.\" It was Lothor Brune's voice, she realized. Not the Hound's, no, how could it be? Of course it had to be Lothor..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"That night Sansa scarcely slept at all, but tossed and turned just as she had aboard the Merling King. She dreamt of Joffrey dying, but as he clawed at his throat and the blood ran down across his fingers she saw with horror that it washer brother Robb. And she dreamed of her wedding night too, of Tyrion's eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. \"I'll have a song from you,\" he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. \"I wish that you were Lady,\" she said.\n\nCome the morning, Grisel climbed up to the bedchamber to serve the lord and lady a tray of morning bread, with butter, honey, fruit, and cream. She returned to say that Alayne was wanted. Sansa was still drowsy from sleep. It took her a moment to remember that she was Alayne.\n\nLady Lysa was still abed, but Lord Petyr was up and dressed. \"Your aunt wishes to speak with you,\" he told Sansa, as he pulled on a boot. \"I've told her who you are.\"\n\nGods be good. \"I... I thank you, my lord.\"\n\nPetyr yanked on the other boot. \"I've had about as much home as I can stomach. We'll leave for the Eyrie this afternoon.\" He kissed his lady wife and licked a smear of honey off her lips, then headed down the steps.\n\nSansa stood by the foot of the bed while her aunt ate a pear and studied her. \"I see it now,\" the Lady Lysa said, as she set the core aside. \"You look so much like Catelyn.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It's kind of you to say so.\"\n\n\"It was not meant as flattery. If truth be told, you look too much like Catelyn. Something must be done. We shall darken your hair before we bring you back to the Eyrie, I think.\"\n\nDarken my hair? \"If it please you, Aunt Lysa.\"\n\n\"You must not call me that. No word of your presence here must be allowed to reach King's Landing. I do not mean to have my son endangered.\" She nibbled the corner of a honeycomb. \"I have kept the Vale out of this war. Our harvest has been plentiful, the mountains protect us, and the Eyrie is impregnable. Even so, it would not do to draw Lord Tywin's wroth down upon us.\" Lysa set the comb down and licked honey from her fingers. \"You were wed to Tyrion Lannister, Petyr says. That vile dwarf.\"\n\n\"They made me marry him. I never wanted it.\"\n\n\"No more than I did,\" her aunt said. \"Jon Arryn was no dwarf, but he was old. You may not think so to see me now, but on the day we wed I was so lovely I put your mother to shame. But all Jon desired was my father's swords, to aid his darling boys. I should have refused him, but he was such an old man, how long could he live? Half his teeth were gone, and his breath smelled like bad cheese. I cannot abide a man with foul breath. Petyr's breath is always fresh... he was the first man I ever kissed, you know. My father said he was too lowborn, but I knew how high he'd rise. Jon gave him the customs for Gulltown to please me, but when he increased the incomes tenfold my lord husband saw how clever he was and gave him other appointments, even brought him to King's Landing to be master of coin. That was hard, to see him everyday and still be wed to that old cold man. Jon did his duty in the bedchamber, but he could no more give me pleasure than he could give me children. His seed was old and weak. All my babies died but Robert, three girls and two boys. All my sweet little babies dead, and that old man just went on and on with his stinking breath. So you see, I have suffered too.\" Lady Lysa sniffed. \"You do know that your poor mother is dead?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Tyrion told me,\" said Sansa."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He said the Freys murdered her at The Twins, with Robb.\"\n\nTears welled suddenly in Lady Lysa's eyes. \"We are women alone now, you and I. Are you afraid, child? Be brave. I would never turn away Cat's daughter. We are bound by blood.\" She beckoned Sansa closer. \"You may come kiss my cheek, Alayne.\"\n\nDutifully she approached and knelt beside the bed. Her aunt was drenched in sweet scent, though under that was a sour milky smell. Her cheek tasted of paint and powder.\n\nAs Sansa stepped back, Lady Lysa caught her wrist. \"Now tell me,\" she said sharply. \"Are you with child? The truth now, I will know if you lie.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, startled by the question.\n\n\"You area woman flowered, are you not?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Sansa knew the truth of her flowering could not belong hidden in the Eyrie. \"Tyrion didn't... he never...\" She could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. \"I am still a maid.\"\n\n\"Was the dwarf incapable?\"\n\n\"No. He was only... he was...\" Kind? She could not say that, not here, not to this aunt who hated him so. \"He... he had whores, my lady. He told me so.\"\n\n\"Whores.\" Lysa released her wrist. \"Of course he did. What woman would bed such a creature, but for gold? I should have killed the Imp when he was in my power, but he tricked me. He is full of low cunning, that one. His sellsword slew my good Ser Vardis Egen. Catelyn should not have brought him here, I told her that. She made off with our uncle too. That was wrong of her. The Blackfish was my Knight of the Gate, and since he left us the mountain clans are growing very bold. Petyr will soon set all that to rights, though. I shall make him Lord Protector of the Vale.\" Her aunt smiled for the first time, almost warmly. \"He may not look as tall or strong as some, but he is worth more than all of them. Trust in him and do as he says.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I shall, Aunt... my lady.\"\n\nLady Lysa seemed pleased by that. \"I knew that boy Joffrey. He used to call my Robert cruel names, and once he slapped him with a wooden sword. A man will tell you poison is dishonorable, but a woman's honor is different. The Mother shaped us to protect our children, and our only dishonor is in failure. You'll know that, when you have a child.\"\n\n\"A child?\" said Sansa, uncertainly.\n\nLysa waved a hand negligently. \"Not for many years. You are too young to be a mother. One day you shall want children, though. Just as you will want to marry.\"\n\n\"I... I am married, my lady.\"\n\n\"Yes, but soon a widow. Be glad the Imp preferred his whores. It would not befitting for my son to take that dwarf's leavings, but as he never touched you... How would you like to marry your cousin, the Lord Robert?\"\n\nThe thought made Sansa weary. All she knew of Robert Arryn was that he was a little boy, and sickly. It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love. But lying came easy to her now. \"I... can scarcely wait to meet him, my lady. But he is still a child, is he not?\"\n\n\"He is eight. And not robust. But such a good boy, so bright and clever. He will be a great man, Alayne. The seed is strong, my lord husband said before he died. His last words. The gods sometimes let us glimpse the future as we lay dying. I see no reason why you should not be wed as soon as we know that your Lannister husband is dead. A secret wedding, to be sure. The Lord of the Eyrie could scarcely bethought to have married a bastard, that would not befitting. The ravens should bring us the word from King's Landing once the Imp's head rolls. You and Robert can be wed the next day, won't that be joyous? It will be good for him to have a little companion. He played with Vardis Egen's boy when we first returned to the Eyrie, and my steward's sons as well, but they were much too rough and I had no choice but to send them away. Do you read well, Alayne?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Septa Mordane was good enough to say so.\"\n\n\"Robert has weak eyes, but he loves to be read to,\" Lady Lysa confided. \"He likes stories about animals the best. Do you know the little song about the chicken who dressed as a fox? I sing him that all the time, he never grows tired of it. And he likes to play hopfrog and spin-the-sword and come-into-my-castle, but you must always let him win. That's only proper, don't you think? He is the Lord of the Eyrie, after all, you must never forget that. You are well born, and the Starks of Winterfell were always proud, but Winterfell has fallen and you are really just a beggar now, so put that pride aside. Gratitude will better become you, in your present circumstances. Yes, and obedience. My son will have a grateful and obedient wife.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"JON\n\nDay and night the axes rang.\n\nJon could not remember the last time he had slept. When he closed his eyes he dreamed of fighting; when he woke he fought. Even in the King's Tower he could hear the ceaseless thunk of bronze and flint and stolen steel biting into wood, and it was louder when he tried to rest in the warming shed atop the Wall. Mance had sledgehammers at work as well, and long saws with teeth of bone and flint. Once, as he was drifting off into an exhausted sleep, there came a great cracking from the haunted forest, and a sentinel tree came crashing down in a cloud of dirt and needles.\n\nHe was awake when Owen came to him, lying restless under a pile of furs on the floor of the warming shed. \"Lord Snow,\" said Owen, shaking his shoulder, \"the dawn.\" He gave Jon a hand to help pull him back onto his feet. Others were waking as well, jostling one another as they pulled on their boots and buckled their swordbelts in the close confines of the shed. No one spoke. They were all too tired for talk. Few of them ever left the Wall these days. It took too long to ride up and down in the cage. Castle Black had been abandoned to Maester Aemon, Ser Wynton Stout, and a few others too old or ill to fight.\n\n\"I had a dream that the king had come,\" Owen said happily. \"Maester Aemon sent a raven, and King Robert came with all his strength. I dreamed I saw his golden banners.\"\n\nJon made himself smile. \"That would be a welcome sight to see, Owen.\" Ignoring the twinge of pain in his leg, he swept a black fur cloak about his shoulders, gathered up his crutch, and went out onto the Wall to face another day."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A gust of wind sent icy tendrils wending through his long brown hair. Half a mile north, the wildling encampments were stirring, their campfires sending up smoky fingers to scratch against the pale dawn sky. Along the edge of the forest they had raised their tents of hide and fur, even a crude longhall of logs and woven branches; there were horselines to the east, mammoths to the west, and men everywhere, sharpening their swords, putting points on crude spears, donning makeshift armor of hide and horn and bone. For every man that he could see, Jon knew there were a score unseen in the wood. The brush gave them some shelter from the elements and hid them from the eyes of the hated crows.\n\nAlready their archers were stealing forward, pushing their rolling mantlets. \"Here come our breakfast arrows,\" Pyp announced cheerfully, as he did every morning. It's good that he can make a jape of it, Jon thought. Someone has to. Three days ago, one of those breakfast arrows had caught Red Alyn of the Rosewood in the leg. You could still see his body at the foot of the Wall, if you cared to lean out far enough. Jon had to think that it was better for them to smile at Pyp's jest than to brood over Alyn's corpse.\n\nThe mantlets were slanting wooden shields, wide enough for five of the free folk to hide behind. The archers pushed them close, then knelt behind them to loose their arrows through slits in the wood. The first time the wildlings rolled them out, Jon had called for fire arrows and set a half-dozen ablaze, but after that Mance started covering them with raw hides. All the fire arrows in the world couldn't make them catch now. The brothers had even started wagering as to which of the straw sentinels would collect the most arrows before they were done. Dolorous Edd was leading with four, but Othell Yarwyck, Tumberjon, and Watt of Long Lake had three apiece. It was Pyp who'd started naming the scarecrows after their missing brothers, too. \"It makes it seem as if there's more of us,\" he said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"More of us with arrows in our bellies,\" Grenn complained, but the custom did seem to give his brothers heart, so Jon let the names stand and the wagering continue.\n\nOn the edge of the Wall an ornate brass Myrish eye stood on three spindly legs. Maester Aemon had once used it to peer at the stars, before his own eyes had failed him. Jon swung the tube down to have a look at the foe. Even at this distance there was no mistaking Mance Rayder's huge white tent, sewn together from the pelts of snow bears. The Myrish lenses brought the wildlings close enough for him to make outfaces. Of Mance himself he saw no sign this morning, but his woman Dalla was outside tending the fire, while her sister Val milked a she-goat beside the tent. Dalla looked so big it was a wonder she could move. The child must becoming very soon, Jon thought. He swiveled the eye east and searched amongst the tents and trees till he found the turtle. That will becoming very soon as well. The wildlings had skinned one of the dead mammoths during the night, and they were lashing the raw bloody hide over the turtle's roof, one more layer on top of the sheepskins and pelts. The turtle had a rounded top and eight huge wheels, and under the hides was a stout wooden frame. When the wildlings had begun knocking it together, Satin thought they were building a ship. Not far wrong. The turtle was a hull turned upside down and opened fore and aft; a longhall on wheels.\n\n\"It's done, isn't it?\" asked Grenn.\n\n\"Near enough.\" Jon shoved away the eye. \"It will come today, most like. Did you fill the barrels?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Everyone."},{"from":"gpt","value":"They froze hard during the night, Pyp checked.\"\n\nGrenn had changed a great deal from the big, clumsy, red-necked boy Jon had first befriended. He had grown half afoot, his chest and shoulders had thickened, and he had not cut his hair nor trimmed his beard since the Fist of the First Men. It made him look as huge and shaggy as an aurochs, the mocking name that Ser Alliser Thorne had hung on him during training. He looked weary now, though. When Jon said as much, he nodded. \"I heard their axes all night. Couldn't sleep for all the chopping.\"\n\n\"Then go sleep now.\"\n\n\"I don't need-\"\n\n\"You do. I want you rested. Goon, I'm not going to let you sleep through the fight.\" He made himself smile. \"You're the only one who can move those bloody barrels.\"\n\nGrenn went off muttering, and Jon returned to the far eye, searching the wildling camp. From time to time an arrow would sail past overhead, but he had learned to ignore those. The range was long and the angle was bad, the chances of being hit were small. He still saw no sign of Mance Rayder in the camp, but he spied Tormund Giantsbane and two of his sons around the turtle. The sons were struggling with the mammoth hide while Tormund gnawed on the roast leg of a goat and bellowed orders. Elsewhere he found the wildling skinchanger, Varamyr Sixskins, walking through the trees with his shadowcat dogging his heels.\n\nWhen he heard the rattle of the winch chains and the iron groan of the cage door opening, he knew it would be Hobb bringing their breakfast as he did every morning. The sight of Mance's turtle had robbed Jon of his appetite. Their oil was all but gone, and the last barrel of pitch had been rolled off the Wall two nights ago. They would soon run short of arrows as well, and there were no fletchers making more. And the night before last, a raven had come from the west, from Ser Denys Mallister. Bowen Marsh had chased the wildlings all the way to the Shadow Tower, it seemed, and then farther, down into the gloom of the Gorge. At the Bridge of Skulls he had met the Weeper and three hundred wildlings and won a bloody battle. But the victory had been a costly one. More than a hundred brothers slain, among them Ser Endrew Tarth and Ser Aladale Wynch. The Old Pomegranate himself had been carried back to the Shadow Tower sorely wounded. Maester Mullin was tending him, but it would be sometime before he was fit to return to Castle Black."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When he had read that, Jon had dispatched Zei to Mole's Town on their best horse to plead with the villagers to help man the Wall. She never returned. When he sent Mully after her, he came back to report the whole village deserted, even the brothel. Most likely Zei had followed them, straight down the kingsroad. Maybe we should all do the same, Jon reflected glumly.\n\nHe made himself eat, hungry or no. Bad enough he could not sleep, he could not goon without food as well. Besides, this might be my last meal. It might be the last meal for all of us. So it was that Jon had a belly full of bread, bacon, onions, and cheese when he heard Horse shout, \"IT'S COMING!\"\n\nNo one needed to ask what'it\" was. Nor did Jon need the maester's Myrish eye to see it creeping out from amongst the tents and trees. \"It doesn't really look much like a turtle,\" Satin commented. \"Turtles don't have fur.\"\n\n\"Most of them don't have wheels either,\" said Pyp.\n\n\"Sound the warhorn,\" Jon commanded, and Kegs blew two long blasts, to wake Grenn and the other sleepers who'd had the watch during the night. If the wildlings were coming, the Wall would need every man. Gods know, we have few enough. Jon looked at Pyp and Kegs and Satin, Horse and Owen the Oaf, Tim Tangletongue, Mully, Spare Boot, and the rest, and tried to imagine them going belly to belly and blade to blade against a hundred screaming wildlings in the freezing darkness of that tunnel, with only a few iron bars between them. That was what it would comedown to, unless they could stop the turtle before the gate was breached."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It's big,\" Horse said.\n\nPyp smacked his lips. \"Think of all the soup it will make.\" The jape was stillborn. Even Pyp sounded tired. He looks half dead, thought Jon, but so do we all. The King-beyond-the-Wall had so many men that he could throw fresh attackers at them every time, but the same handful of black brothers had to meet every assault, and it had worn them ragged.\n\nThe men beneath the wood and hides would be pulling hard, Jon knew, putting their shoulders into it, straining to keep the wheels turning, but once the turtle was flush against the gate they would exchange their ropes for axes. At least Mance was not sending his mammoths today. Jon was glad of that. Their awesome strength was wasted on the Wall, and their size only made them easy targets. The last had been a day and a half in the dying, its mournful trumpetings terrible to hear.\n\nThe turtle crept slowly through stones and stumps and brush. The earlier attacks had cost the free folk a hundred lives or more. Most still lay where they had fallen. In the lulls the crows would come and pay them court, but now the birds fled screeching. They liked the look of that turtle no more than he did.\n\nSatin, Horse, and the others were looking to him, Jon knew, waiting for his orders. He was so tired, he hardly knew anymore. The Wallis mine, he reminded himself. \"Owen, Horse, to the catapults. Kegs, you and Spare Boot on the scorpions. The rest of you string your bows. Fire arrows. Let's see if we can burn it.\" It was likely to be a futile gesture, Jon knew, but it had to be better than standing helpless."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Cumbersome and slow-moving, the turtle made for an easy shot, and his archers and crossbowmen soon turned it into a lumbering wooden hedgehog... but the wet hides protected it, just as they had the mantlets, and the flaming arrows guttered out almost as soon as they struck. Jon cursed under his breath. \"Scorpions,\" he commanded. \"Catapults.\"\n\nThe scorpions bolts punched deep into the pelts, but did no more damage than the fire arrows. The rocks went bouncing off the turtle's roof, leaving dimples in the thick layers of hides. A stone from one of the trebuchets might have crushed it, but the one machine was still broken, and the wildlings had gone wide around the area where the other dropped its loads.\n\n\"Jon, it's still coming,\" said Owen the Oaf.\n\nHe could see that for himself. Inch by inch, yard by yard, the turtle crept closer, rolling, rumbling and rocking as it crossed the killing ground. Once the wildlings got it flush against the Wall, it would give them all the shelter they needed while their axes crashed through the hastily-repaired outer gates. Inside, under the ice, they would clear the loose rubble from the tunnel in a matter of hours, and then there would be nothing to stop them but two iron gates, a few half-frozen corpses, and whatever brothers Jon cared to throw in their path, to fight and die down in the dark.\n\nTo his left, the catapult made a thunk and filled the air with spinning stones. They plonked down on the turtle like hail, and caromed harmlessly aside. The wildling archers were still loosing arrows from behind their mantlets. One thudded into the face of a straw man, and Pyp said, \"Four for Watt of Long Lake! We have a tie!\" The next shaft whistled past his own ear, however. \"Fie!\" he shouted down. \"I'm not in the tourney!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The hides won't burn,\" Jon said, as much to himself as to the others. Their only hope was to try and crush the turtle when it reached the Wall. For that, they needed boulders. No matter how stoutly built the turtle was, a huge chunk of rock crashing straight down on top of it from seven hundred feet was bound to do some damage. \"Grenn, Owen, Kegs, it's time.\"\n\nAlongside the warming shed a dozen stout oaken barrels were lined up in a row. They were full of crushed rock; the gravel that the black brothers customarily spread on the footpaths to give themselves better footing atop the Wall. Yesterday, after he'd seen the free folk covering the turtle with sheepskins, Jon told Grenn to pour water into the barrels, as much as they would take. The water would seep down through the crushed stone, and overnight the whole thing would freeze solid. It was the nearest thing to a boulder they were going to get.\n\n\"Why do we need to freeze it?\" Grenn had asked him. \"Why don't we just roll the barrels off the way they are?\"\n\nJon answered, \"If they crash against the Wall on the way down they'll burst, and loose gravel will spray everywhere. We don't want to rain pebbles on the whoresons.\"\n\nHe put his shoulder to the one barrel with Grenn, while Kegs and Owen were wrestling with another. Together they rocked it back and forth to break the grip of the ice that had formed around its bottom. \"The bugger weighs a ton,\" said Grenn.\n\n\"Tip it over and roll it,\" Jon said. \"Careful, if it rolls over your foot you'll end up like Spare Boot.\"\n\nOnce the barrel was on its side, Jon grabbed a torch and waved it above the surface of the Wall, back and forth, just enough to melt the ice a little. The thin film of water helped the barrel roll more easily. Too easily, in fact; they almost lost it. But finally, with four of them pooling their efforts, they rolled their boulder to the edge and stood it up again."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They had four of the big oak barrels lined up above the gate by the time Pyp shouted, \"There's a turtle at our door!\" Jon braced his injured leg and leaned out fora look. Hoardings, Marsh should have built hoardings. So many things they should have done. The wildlings were dragging the dead giants away from the gate. Horse and Mully were dropping rocks down on them, and Jon thought he saw one mango down, but the stones were too small to have any effect on the turtle itself. He wondered what the free folk would do about the dead mammoth in the path, but then he saw. The turtle was almost as wide as a longhall, so they simply pushed it over the carcass. His leg twitched, but Horse caught his arm and drew him back to safety. \"You shouldn't lean out like that,\" the boy said.\n\n\"We should have built hoardings.\" Jon thought he could hear the crash of axes on wood, but that was probably just fear ringing in his ears. He looked to Grenn. \"Do it.\"\n\nGrenn got behind a barrel, put his shoulder against it, grunted, and began to push. Owen and Mully moved to help him. They shoved the barrel out afoot, and then another. And suddenly it was gone.\n\nThey heard the thump as it struck the Wall on the way down, and then, much louder, the crash and crack of splintering wood, followed by shouts and screams. Satin whooped and Owen the Oaf danced in circles, while Pyp leaned out and called, \"The turtle was stuffed full of rabbits! Look at them hop away!\"\n\n\"Again,\" Jon barked, and Grenn and Kegs slammed their shoulders against the next barrel, and sent it tottering out into empty air."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"By the time they were done, the front of Mance's turtle was a crushed and splintered ruin, and wildlings were spilling out the other end and scrambling for their camp. Satin scooped up his crossbow and sent a few quarrels after them as they ran, to see them off the faster. Grenn was grinning through his beard, Pyp was making japes, and none of them would die today.\n\nOn the morrow, though... Jon glanced toward the shed. Eight barrels of gravel remained where twelve had stood a few moments before. He realized how tired he was then, and how much his wound was hurting. I need to sleep. A few hours, at least. He could go to Maester Aemon for some dreamwine, that would help. \"I am going down to the King's Tower,\" he told them. \"Call me if Mance gets up to anything. Pyp, you have the Wall.\"\n\n\"Me?\" said Pyp.\n\n\"Him?\" said Grenn.\n\nSmiling, he left them to it and rode down in the cage.\n\nA cup of dreamwine did help, as it happened. No sooner had he stretched out on the narrow bed in his cell than sleep took him. His dreams were strange and formless, full of strange voices, shouts and cries, and the sound of a warhorn, blowing low and loud, a single deep booming note that lingered in the air.\n\nWhen he awoke the sky was black outside the arrow slit that served him fora window, and four men he did not know were standing over him. One held a lantern. \"Jon Snow,\" the tallest of them said brusquely, \"pull on your boots and come with us.\"\n\nHis first groggy thought was that somehow the Wall had fallen whilst he slept, that Mance Rayder had sent more giants or another turtle and broken through the gate. But when he rubbed his eyes he saw that the strangers were all in black. They're men of the Night's Watch, Jon realized. \"Come where? Who are you?\""},{"from":"human","value":"The tall man gestured, and two of the others pulled Jon from the bed."},{"from":"gpt","value":"With the lantern leading the way they marched him from his cell and up a half turn of stair, to the Old Bear's solar. He saw Maester Aemon standing by the fire, his hands folded around the head of a blackthorn cane. Septon Cellador was half drunk as usual, and Ser Wynton Stout was asleep in a window seat. The other brothers were strangers to him. All but one.\n\nImmaculate in his fur-trimmed cloak and polished boots, Ser Alliser Thorne turned to say, \"Here's the turncloak now, my lord. Ned Stark's bastard, of Winterfell.\"\n\n\"I'm no turncloak, Thorne,\" Jon said coldly.\n\n\"We shall see.\" In the leather chair behind the table where the Old Bear wrote his letters sat a big, broad, jowly man Jon did not know. \"Yes, we shall see,\" he said again. \"You will not deny that you are Jon Snow, I hope? Stark's bastard?\"\n\n\"Lord Snow, he likes to call himself.\" Ser Alliser was a spare, slim man, compact and sinewy, and just now his flinty eyes were dark with amusement.\n\n\"You're the one who named me Lord Snow,\" said Jon. Ser Alliser had been fond of naming the boys he trained, during his time as Castle Black's master-at-arms. The Old Bear had sent Thorne to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. These others must be Eastwatch men. The bird reached Cotter Pyke and he's sent us help. \"How many men have you brought?\" he asked the man behind the table.\n\n\"It's me who'll ask the questions,\" the jowly man replied. \"You've been charged with oathbreaking, cowardice, and desertion, Jon Snow. Do you deny that you abandoned your brothers to die on the Fist of the First Men and joined the wildling Mance Rayder, this self-styled King-beyond-the-Wall?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Abandoned...?\" Jon almost choked on the word.\n\nMaester Aemon spoke up then. \"My lord, Donal Noye and I discussed these issues when Jon Snow first returned to us, and were satisfied by Jon's explanations.\"\n\n\"Well, I am not satisfied, Maester,\" said the jowly man. \"I will hear these explanations for myself. Yes I will!\"\n\nJon swallowed his anger. \"I abandoned no one. I left the Fist with Qhorin Halfhand to scout the Skirling Pass. I joined the wildlings under orders. The Halfhand feared that Mance might have found the Horn of Winter...\"\n\n\"The Horn of Winter?\" Ser Alliser chuckled. \"Were you commanded to count their snarks as well, Lord Snow?\"\n\n\"No, but I counted their giants as best I could.\"\n\n\"Ser,\" snapped the jowly man. \"You will address Ser Alliser as ser, and myself as m'lord. I am Janos Slynt, Lord of Harrenhal, and commander here at Castle Black until such time as Bowen Marsh returns with his garrison. You will grant us our courtesies, yes. I will not suffer to hear an anointed knight like the good Ser Alliser mocked by a traitor's bastard.\" He raised a hand and pointed a meaty finger at Jon's face. \"Do you deny that you took a wildling woman into your bed?\"\n\n\"No.\" Jon's grief over Ygritte was too fresh for him to deny her now. \"No, my lord.\"\n\n\"I suppose it was also the Halfhand who commanded you to fuck this unwashed whore?\" Ser Alliser asked with a smirk.\n\n\"Ser. She was no whore, ser. The Halfhand told me not to balk, whatever the wildlings asked of me, but... I will not deny that I went beyond what I had to do, that I... cared for her.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You admit to being an oathbreaker, then,\" said Janos Slynt.\n\nHalf the men at Castle Black visited Mole's Town from time to time to dig for buried treasures in the brothel, Jon knew, but he would not dishonor Ygritte by equating her with the Mole's Town whores. \"I broke my vows with a woman. I admit that. Yes.\"\n\n\"Yes, m'lord!\" When Slynt scowled, his jowls quivered. He was as broad as the Old Bear had been, and no doubt would be as bald if he lived to Mormont's age. Half his hair was gone already, though he could not have been more than forty.\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" Jon said. \"I rode with the wildlings and ate with them, as the Halfhand commanded me, and I shared my furs with Ygritte. But I swear to you, I never turned my cloak. I escaped the Magnar as soon as I could, and never took up arms against my brothers or the realm.\"\n\nLord Slynt's small eyes studied him. \"Ser Glendon,\" he commanded, \"bring in the other prisoner.\"\n\nSer Glendon was the tall man who had dragged Jon from his bed. Four other men went with him when he left the room, but they were back soon enough with a captive, a small, sallow, battered man fettered hand and foot. He had a single eyebrow, a widow's peak, and a mustache that looked like a smear of dirt on his upper lip, but his face was swollen and mottled with bruises, and most of his front teeth had been knocked out.\n\nThe Eastwatch men threw the captive roughly to the floor. Lord Slynt frowned down at him. \"Is this the one you spoke of?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The captive blinked yellow eyes. \"Aye.\" Not until that instant did Jon recognize Rattleshirt. He is a different man without his armor, he thought. \"Aye,\" the wildling repeated, \"he's the craven killed the Halfhand. Up in the Frostfangs, it were, after we hunted down t'other crows and killed them, everyone. We would have done for this one too, only he begged f'his worthless life, offered t\" join us if we'd have him. The Halfhand swore he'd seethe craven dead first, but the wolf ripped Qhorin half t' pieces and this one opened his throat.\" He gave Jon a cracktooth smile then, and spat blood on his foot.\n\n\"Well?\" Janos Slynt demanded of Jon harshly. \"Do you deny it? Or will you claim Qhorin commanded you to kill him?\"\n\n\"He told me...\" The words came hard. \"He told me to do whatever they asked of me.\"\n\nSlynt looked about the solar, at the other Eastwatch men. \"Does this boy think I fell off a turnip wagon onto my head?\"\n\n\"Your lies won't save you now, Lord Snow,\" warned Ser Alliser Thorne. \"We'll have the truth from you, bastard.\"\n\n\"I've told you the truth. Our garrons were failing, and Rattleshirt was close behind us. Qhorin told me to pretend to join the wildlings.\" You must not balk, whatever is asked of you, ' he said. He knew they would make me kill him. Rattleshirt was going to kill him anyway, he knew that too.\"\n\n\"So now you claim the great Qhorin Halfhand feared this creature?\" Slynt looked at Rattleshirt, and snorted."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"All men fear the Lord o' Bones,\" the wildling grumbled. Ser Glendon kicked him, and he lapsed back into silence.\n\n\"I never said that,\" Jon insisted.\n\nSlynt slammed a fist on the table. \"I heard you! Ser Alliser had your measure true enough, it seems. You lie through your bastard's teeth. Well, I will not suffer it. I will not! You might have fooled this crippled blacksmith, but not Janos Slynt! Oh, no. Janos Slynt does not swallow lies so easily. Did you think my skull was stuffed with cabbage?\"\n\n\"I don't know what your skull is stuffed with. My lord.\"\n\n\"Lord Snow is nothing if not arrogant,\" said Ser Alliser. \"He murdered Qhorin just as his fellow turncloaks did Lord Mormont. It would not surprise me to learn that it was all part of the same fell plot. Benjen Stark may well have a hand in all this as well. For all we know, he is sitting in Mance Rayder's tent even now. You know these Starks, my lord.\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Janos Slynt. \"I know them too well.\"\n\nJon peeled off his glove and showed them his burned hand. \"I burned my hand defending Lord Mormont from a wight. And my uncle was a man of honor. He would never have betrayed his vows.\"\n\n\"No more than you?\" mocked Ser Alliser.\n\nSepton Cellador cleared his throat. \"Lord Slynt,\" he said, \"this boy refused to swear his vows properly in the sept, but went beyond the Wall to say his words before a heart tree. His father's gods, he said, but they are wildling gods as well.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"They are the gods of the north, Septon.\" Maester Aemon was courteous, but firm. \"My lords, when Donal Noye was slain, it was this young man Jon Snow who took the Wall and held it, against all the fury of the north. He has proved himself valiant, loyal, and resourceful. Were it not for him, you would have found Mance Rayder sitting here when you arrived, Lord Slynt. You are doing him a great wrong. Jon Snow was Lord Mormont's own steward and squire. He was chosen for that duty because the Lord Commander saw much promise in him. As do I.\"\n\n\"Promise?\" said Slynt. \"Well, promise may turn false. Qhorin Halfhand's blood is on his hands. Mormont trusted him, you say, but what of that? I know what it is to be betrayed by men you trusted. Oh, yes. And I know the ways of wolves as well.\" He pointed at Jon's face. \"Your father died a traitor.\"\n\n\"My father was murdered.\" Jon was past caring what they did to him, but he would not suffer anymore lies about his father.\n\nSlynt purpled. \"Murder? You insolent pup. King Robert was not even cold when Lord Eddard moved against his son.\" He rose to his feet; a shorter man than Mormont, but thick about the chest and arms, with a gut to match. A small gold spear tipped with red enamel pinned his cloak at the shoulder. \"Your father died by the sword, but he was highborn, a King's Hand. For you, a noose will serve. Ser Alliser, take this turncloak to an ice cell.\"\n\n\"My lord is wise.\" Ser Alliser seized Jon by the arm."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jon yanked away and grabbed the knight by the throat with such ferocity that he lifted him off the floor. He would have throttled him if the Eastwatch men had not pulled him off. Thorne staggered back, rubbing the marks Jon's fingers had left on his neck. \"You see for yourselves, brothers. The boy is a wildling.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"TYRION\n\nWhen dawn broke, he found he could not face the thought of food. By evenfall I may stand condemned. His belly was acid with bile, and his nose itched. Tyrion scratched at it with the point of his knife. One last witness to endure, then my turn. But what to do? Deny everything? Accuse Sansa and Ser Dontos? Confess, in the hope of spending the rest of his days on the Wall? Let the dice fly and pray the Red Viper could defeat Ser Gregor Clegane?\n\nTyrion stabbed listlessly at a greasy grey sausage, wishing it were his sister. It is bloody cold on the Wall, but at least I would be shut of Cersei. He did not think he would make much of a ranger, but the Night's Watch needed clever men as well as strong ones. Lord Commander Mormont had said as much, when Tyrion had visited Castle Black. There are those inconvenient vows, though. It would mean the end of his marriage and whatever claim he might ever have made for Casterly Rock, but he did not seem destined to enjoy either in any case. And he seemed to recall that there was a brothel in a nearby village.\n\nIt was not a life he'd ever dreamed of, but it was life. And all he had to do to earn it was trust in his father, stand upon his little stunted legs, and say, \"Yes, I did it, I confess.\" That was the part that tied his bowels in knots. He almost wished he had done it, since it seemed he must suffer for it anyway.\n\n\"My lord?\" said Podrick Payne. \"They're here, my lord. Ser Addam. And the gold cloaks. They wait without.\"\n\n\"Pod, tell me true... do you think I did it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The boy hesitated. When he tried to speak, all he managed to produce was a weak sputter.\n\nI am doomed. Tyrion sighed. \"No need to answer. You've been a good squire tome. Better than I deserved. Whatever happens, I thank you for your leal service.\"\n\nSer Addam Marbrand waited at the door with six gold cloaks. He had nothing to say this morning, it seemed. Another good man who thinks me a kinslayer. Tyrion summoned all the dignity he could find and waddled down the steps. He could feel them all watching him as he crossed the yard; the guards on the walls, the grooms by the stables, the scullions and washerwomen and serving girls. Inside the throne room, knights and lordlings moved aside to let them through, and whispered to their ladies.\n\nNo sooner had Tyrion taken his place before the judges than another group of gold cloaks led in Shae.\n\nA cold hand tightened round his heart. Varys betrayed her, he thought. Then he remembered. No. I betrayed her myself. I should have left her with Lollys. Of course they'd question Sansa's maids, I'd do the same. Tyrion rubbed at the slick scar where his nose had been, wondering why Cersei had bothered. Shae knows nothing that can hurt me.\n\n\"They plotted it together,\" she said, this girl he'd loved. \"The Imp and Lady Sansa plotted it after the Young Wolf died. Sansa wanted revenge for her brother and Tyrion meant to have the throne. He was going to kill his sister next, and then his own lord father, so he could be Hand for Prince Tommen. But after a year or so, before Tommen got too old, he would have killed him too, so as to take the crown for his own head.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"How could you know all this?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"demanded Prince Oberyn. \"Why would the Imp divulge such plans to his wife's maid?\"\n\n\"I overheard some, m'lord,\" said Shae, \"and m'lady let things slip too. But most I had from his own lips. I wasn't only Lady Sansa's maid. I was his whore, all the time he was herein King's Landing. On the morning of the wedding, he dragged me down where they keep the dragon skulls and fucked me therewith the monsters all around. And when I cried, he said I ought to be more grateful, that it wasn't every girl who got to be the king's whore. That was when he told me how he meant to be king. He said that poorboy Joffrey would never know his bride the way he was knowing me.\" She started sobbing then. \"I never meant to be a whore, m'lords. I was to be married. A squire, he was, and a good brave boy, gentle born. But the Imp saw meat the Green Fork and put the boy I meant to marry in the front rank of the van, and after he was killed he sent his wildlings to bring me to his tent. Shagga, the big one, and Timett with the burned eye. He said if I didn't pleasure him, he'd give me to them, so I did. Then he brought me to the city, so I'd be close when he wanted me. He made me do such shameful things...\"\n\nPrince Oberyn looked curious. \"What sorts of things?\"\n\n\"Unspeakable things.\" As the tears rolled slowly down that pretty face, no doubt every man in the hall wanted to take Shae in his arms and comfort her. \"With my mouth and... other parts, m'lord. All my parts. He used me every way there was, and... he used to make me tell him how big he was. My giant, I had to call him, my giant of Lannister.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Oswald Kettleblack was the first to laugh. Boros and Meryn joined in, then Cersei, Ser Loras, and more lords and ladies than he could count. The sudden gale of mirth made the rafters ring and shook the Iron Throne. \"It's true,\" Shae protested. \"My giant of Lannister.\" The laughter swelled twice as loud. Their mouths were twisted in merriment, their bellies shook. Some laughed so hard that snot flew from their nostrils.\n\nI saved you all, Tyrion thought. I saved this vile city and all your worthless lives. There were hundreds in the throne room, everyone of them laughing but his father. Or so it seemed. Even the Red Viper chortled, and Mace Tyrell looked like to bust a gut, but Lord Tywin Lannister sat between them as if made of stone, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.\n\nTyrion pushed forward. \"MY LORDS!\" he shouted. He had to shout, to have any hope of being heard.\n\nHis father raised a hand. Bit by bit, the hall grew silent.\n\n\"Get this lying whore out of my sight,\" said Tyrion, \"and I will give you your confession.\"\n\nLord Tywin nodded, gestured. Shae looked half in terror as the gold cloaks formed up around her. Her eyes met Tyrion's as they marched her from the wall. Was it shame he saw there, or fear? He wondered what Cersei had promised her. You will get the gold or jewels, whatever it was you asked for, he thought as he watched her back recede, but before the moon has turned she'll have you entertaining the gold cloaks in their barracks.\n\nTyrion stared up at his father's hard green eyes with their flecks of cold bright gold. \"Guilty,\" he said, \"so guilty. Is that what you wanted to hear?\""},{"from":"human","value":"Lord Tywin said nothing."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mace Tyrell nodded. Prince Oberyn looked mildly disappointed. \"You admit you poisoned the king?\"\n\n\"Nothing of the sort,\" said Tyrion. \"Of Joffrey's death I am innocent. I am guilty of a more monstrous crime.\" He took a step toward his father. \"I was born. I lived. I am guilty of being a dwarf, I confess it. And no matter how many times my good father forgave me, I have persisted in my infamy.\"\n\n\"This is folly, Tyrion,\" declared Lord Tywin. \"Speak to the matter at hand. You are not on trial for being a dwarf.\"\n\n\"That is where you err, my lord. I have been on trial for being a dwarf my entire life.\"\n\n\"Have you nothing to say in your defense?\"\n\n\"Nothing but this: I did not do it. Yet now I wish I had.\" He turned to face the hall, that sea of palefaces. \"I wish I had enough poison for you all. You make me sorry that I am not the monster you would have me be, yet there it is. I am innocent, but I will get no justice here. You leave me no choice but to appeal to the gods. I demand trial by battle.\"\n\n\"Have you taken leave of your wits?\" his father said.\n\n\"No, I've found them. I demand trial by battle!\"\n\nHis sweet sister could not have been more pleased. \"He has that right, my lords,\" she reminded the judges. \"Let the gods judge. Ser Gregor Clegane will stand for Joffrey. He returned to the city the night before last, to put his sword at my service.\"\n\nLord Tywin's face was so dark that for half a heartbeat Tyrion wondered if he'd drunk some poisoned wine as well. He slammed his fist down on the table, too angry to speak. It was Mace Tyrell who turned to Tyrion and asked the question. \"Do you have a champion to defend your innocence?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He does, my lord.\" Prince Oberyn of Dorne rose to his feet. \"The dwarf has quite convinced me.\"\n\nThe uproar was deafening. Tyrion took especial pleasure in the sudden doubt he glimpsed in Cersei's eyes. It took a hundred gold cloaks pounding the butts of their spears against the floor to quiet the throne room again. By then Lord Tywin Lannister had recovered himself. \"Let the issue be decided on the morrow,\" he declared in iron tones. \"I wash my hands of it.\" He gave his dwarf son a cold angry look, then strode from the hall, out the king's door behind the Iron Throne, his brother Kevan at his side.\n\nLater, back in his tower cell, Tyrion poured himself a cup of wine and sent Podrick Payne off for cheese, bread, and olives. He doubted whether he could keep down anything heavier just now. Did you think I would go meekly, Father? he asked the shadow his candles etched upon the wall. I have too much of you in me for that. He felt strangely at peace, now that he had snatched the power of life and death from his father's hands and placed it in the hands of the gods. Assuming there are gods, and they give a mummer's fart. If not, then I'm in Dornish hands. No matter what happened, Tyrion had the satisfaction of knowing that he'd kicked Lord Tywin's plans to splinters. If Prince Oberyn won, it would further inflame Highgarden against the Dornish; Mace Tyrell would seethe man who crippled his son helping the dwarf who almost poisoned his daughter to escape his rightful punishment. And if the Mountain triumphed, Doran Martell might well demand to know why his brother had been served with death instead of the justice Tyrion had promised him. Dorne might crown Myrcella after all."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was almost worth dying to know all the trouble he'd made. Will you come to seethe end, Shae? Will you stand therewith the rest, watching as Ser Ilyn lops my ugly head off? Will you miss your giant of Lannister when he's dead? He drained his wine, flung the cup aside, and sang lustily.\n\nHe rode through the streets of the city,\n\ndown from his hill on high,\n\nO'er the wynds and the steps and the cobbles,\n\nhe rode to a woman's sigh.\n\nFor she was his secret treasure,\n\nshe was his shame and his bliss.\n\nAnd a chain and a keep are nothing,\n\ncompared to a woman's kiss.\n\nSer Kevan did not visit him that night. He was probably with Lord Tywin, trying to placate the Tyrells. I have seen the last of that uncle, I fear. He poured another cup of wine. A pity he'd had Symon Silver Tongue killed before learning all the words of that song. It wasn't a bad song, if truth be told. Especially compared to the ones that would be written about him henceforth. \"For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm,\" he sang. Perhaps he should write the other verses himself. If he lived so long.\n\nThat night, surprisingly, Tyrion Lannister slept long and deep. He rose at first light, well rested and with a hearty appetite, and broke his fast on fried bread, blood sausage, applecakes, and a double helping of eggs cooked with onions and fiery Dornish peppers. Then he begged leave of his guards to attend his champion. Ser Addam gave his consent."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tyrion found Prince Oberyn drinking a cup of red wine as he donned his armor. He was attended by four of his younger Dornish lordlings. \"Good morrow to you, my lord,\" the prince said. \"Will you take a cup of wine?\"\n\n\"Should you be drinking before battle?\"\n\n\"I always drink before battle.\"\n\n\"That could get you killed. Worse, it could get me killed.\"\n\nPrince Oberyn laughed. \"The gods defend the innocent. You are innocent, I trust?\"\n\n\"Only of killing Joffrey,\" Tyrion admitted. \"I do hope you know what you are about to face. Gregor Clegane is-\"\n\n\"-large? So I have heard.\"\n\n\"He is almost eight feet tall and must weigh thirty stone, all of it muscle. He fights with a two-handed greatsword, but needs only one hand to wield it. He has been known to cut men in half with a single blow. His armor is so heavy that no lesser man could bear the weight, let alone move in it.\"\n\nPrince Oberyn was unimpressed. \"I have killed large men before. The trick is to get them off their feet. Once they go down, they're dead.\" The Dornishman sounded so blithely confident that Tyrion felt almost reassured, until he turned and said, \"Daemon, my spear!\" Ser Daemon tossed it to him, and the Red Viper snatched it from the air.\n\n\"You mean to face the Mountain with a spear?\" That made Tyrion uneasy allover again. In battle, ranks of massed spears made fora formidable front, but single combat against a skilled swordsman was a very different matter.\n\n\"We are fond of spears in Dorne. Besides, it is the only way to counter his reach. Have a look, Lord Imp, but see you do not touch.\" The spear was turned ash eight feet long, the shaft smooth, thick, and heavy. The last two feet of that was steel: a slender leaf-shaped spearhead narrowing to a wicked spike. The edges looked sharp enough to shave with. When Oberyn spun the haft between the palms of his hand, they glistened black. Oil? Or poison? Tyrion decided that he would sooner not know. \"I hope you are good with that,\" he said doubtfully."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You will have no cause for complaint. Though Ser Gregor may. However thick his plate, there will be gaps at the joints. Inside the elbow and knee, beneath the arms... I will find a place to tickle him, I promise you.\" He set the spear aside. \"It is said that a Lannister always pays his debts. Perhaps you will return to Sunspear with me when the day's bloodletting is done. My brother Doran would be most pleased to meet the rightful heir to Casterly Rock... especially if he brought his lovely wife, the Lady of Winterfell.\"\n\nDoes the snake think I have Sansa squirreled away somewhere, like a nut I'm hoarding for winter? If so, Tyrion was not about to disabuse him. \"A trip to Dorne might be very pleasant, now that I reflect on it.\"\n\n\"Plan on a lengthy visit.\" Prince Oberyn sipped his wine. \"You and Doran have many matters of mutual interest to discuss. Music, trade, history, wine, the dwarf's penny... the laws of inheritance and succession. No doubt an uncle's counsel would be of benefit to Queen Myrcella in the trying times ahead.\"\n\nIf Varys had his little birds listening, Oberyn was giving them a ripe earful. \"I believe I will have that cup of wine,\" said Tyrion. Queen Myrcella? It would have been more tempting if only he did have Sansa tucked beneath his cloak. If she declared for Myrcella over Tommen, would the north follow? What the Red Viper was hinting at was treason. Could Tyrion truly take up arms against Tommen, against his own father? Cersei would spit blood. It might be worth it for that alone.\n\n\"Do you recall the tale I told you of our first meeting, Imp?\" Prince Oberyn asked, as the Bastard of Godsgrace knelt before him to fasten his greaves. \" It was not for your tail alone that my sister and I came to Casterly Rock. We were on a quest of sorts. A quest that took us to Starfall, the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall, and finally Casterly Rock... but our true destination was marriage. Doran was betrothed to Lady Mellario of Norvos, so he had been left behind as castellan of Sunspear. My sister and I were yet unpromised."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 70\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They put on their cloaks and waited outside. The riders numbered no more than a score; a very modest escort, for the Lady of the Eyrie. Three maids rode with her, and a dozen household knights in mail and plate. She brought a septon as well, and a handsome singer with a wisp of a mustache and long sandy curls.\\n\\nCould that be my aunt? Lady Lysa was two years younger than Mother, but this woman looked ten years older. Thick auburn tresses fell down past her waist, but beneath the costly velvet gown and jeweled bodice her body sagged and bulged. Her face was pink and painted, her breasts heavy, her limbs thick. She was taller than Littlefinger, and heavier; nor did she show any grace in the clumsy way she climbed down off her horse.\\n\\nPetyr knelt to kiss her fingers. \\\"The king's small council commanded me to woo and win you, my lady. Do you think you might have me for your lord and husband?\\\"\\n\\nLady Lysa pooched her lips and pulled him up to plant a kiss upon his cheek. \\\"Oh, mayhaps I could be persuaded.\\\" She giggled. \\\"Have you brought gifts to melt my heart?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The king's peace.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, poo to the peace, what else have you brought me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My daughter.\\\" Littlefinger beckoned Sansa forward with a hand. \\\"My lady, allow me to present you Alayne Stone.\\\"\\n\\nLysa Arryn did not seem greatly pleased to see her. Sansa did a deep curtsy, her head bowed. \\\"A bastard?\\\" she heard her aunt say. \\\"Petyr, have you been wicked? Who washer mother?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The wench is dead. I'd hoped to take Alayne to the Eyrie.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What am Ito do with her there?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have a few notions,\\\" said Lord Petyr. \\\"But just now I am more interested in what I might do with you, my lady.\\\"\\n\\nAll the sternness melted off her aunt's round pink face, and fora moment Sansa thought Lysa Arryn was about to cry. \\\"Sweet Petyr, I've missed you so, you don't know, you can't know. Yohn Royce has been stirring up all sorts of trouble, demanding that I call my banners and go to war. And the others all swarm around me, Hunter and Corbray and that dreadful Nestor Royce, all wanting towed me and take my son toward, but none of them truly love me. Only you, Petyr. I've dreamed of you so long.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And I of you, my lady.\\\" He slid an arm around behind her and kissed heron the neck. \\\"How soon can we be wed?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now,\\\" said Lady Lysa, sighing. \\\"I've brought my own septon, and a singer, and mead for the wedding feast.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Here?\\\" That did not please him. \\\"I'd sooner wed you at the Eyrie, with your whole court in attendance.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Poo to my court. I have waited so long, I could not bear to wait another moment.\\\" She put her arms around him. \\\"I want to share your bed tonight, my sweet. I want us to make another child, a brother for Robert or a sweet little daughter.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I dream of that as well, sweetling. Yet there is much to be gained from a great public wedding, with all the Vale-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She stamped afoot. \\\"I want you now, this very night. And I must warn you, after all these years of silence and whisperings, I mean to scream when you love me. I am going to scream so loud they'll hear me in the Eyrie!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps I could bed you now, and wed you later?\\\"\\n\\nThe Lady Lysa giggled like a girl. \\\"Oh, Petyr Baelish, you are so wicked. No, I say no, I am the Lady of the Eyrie, and I command you towed me this very moment!\\\"\\n\\nPetyr gave a shrug. \\\"As my lady commands, then. I am helpless before you, as ever.\\\"\\n\\nThey said their vows within the hour, standing beneath a sky-blue canopy as the sun sank in the west. Afterward trestle tables were setup beneath the small flint tower, and they feasted on quail, venison, and roast boar, washing it down with a fine light mead. Torches were lit as dusk crept in. Lysa's singer played'The Vow Unspoken\\\" and'Seasons of My Love\\\" and'Two Hearts That Beat as One.\\\" Several younger knights even asked Sansa to dance. Her aunt danced as well, her skirts whirling when Petyr spun her in his arms. Mead and marriage had taken years off Lady Lysa. She laughed at everything so long as she held her husband's hand, and her eyes seemed to glow whenever she looked at him.\\n\\nWhen it was time for the bedding, her knights carried her up to the tower, stripping her as they went and shouting bawdy jests. Tyrion spared me that, Sansa remembered. It would not have been so bad being undressed fora man she loved, by friends who loved them both. By Joffrey, though... She shuddered.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Her aunt had brought only three ladies with her, so they pressed Sansa to help them undress Lord Petyr and march him up to his marriage bed. He submitted with good grace and a wicked tongue, giving as good as he got. By the time they had gotten him into the tower and out of his clothes, the other women were flushed, with laces unlaced, kirtles crooked, and skirts in disarray. But Littlefinger only smiled at Sansa as they marched him up to the bedchamber where his lady wife was waiting.\\n\\nLady Lysa and Lord Petyr had the third-story bedchamber to themselves, but the tower was small... and true to her word, her aunt screamed. It had begun to rain outside, driving the feasters into the hall one floor below, so they heard most every word. \\\"Petyr,\\\" her aunt moaned. \\\"Oh, Petyr, Petyr, sweet Petyr, oh oh oh. There, Petyr, there. That's where you belong.\\\" Lady Lysa's singer launched into a bawdy version of'Milady's Supper,\\\" but even his singing and playing could not drown out Lysa's cries. \\\"Make me a baby, Petyr,\\\" she screamed, \\\"make me another sweet little baby. Oh, Petyr, my precious, my precious, PEEEEEETYR!\\\" Her last shriek was so loud that it set the dogs to barking, and two of her aunt's ladies could scarce contain their mirth.\\n\\nSansa went down the steps and out into the night. Alight rain was falling on the remains of the feast, but the air smelled fresh and clean. The memory of her own wedding night with Tyrion was much with her. In the dark, I am the Knight of Flowers, he had said. I could be good to you. But that was only another Lannister lie. A dog can smell a lie, you know, the Hound had told her once. She could almost hear the rough rasp of his voice. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They're all liars here, and everyone better than you. She wondered what had become of Sandor Clegane. Did he know that they'd killed Joffrey? Would he care? He had been the prince's sworn shield for years.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She stayed outside fora longtime. When at last she sought her own bed, wet and chilled, only the dim glow of a peat fire lit the darkened hall. There was no sound from above. The young singer satin a corner, playing a slow song to himself. One of her aunt's maids was kissing a knight in Lord Petyr's chair, their hands busy beneath each other's clothing. Several men had drunk themselves to sleep, and one was in the privy, being noisily sick. Sansa found Bryen's old blind dog in her little alcove beneath the steps, and lay down next to him. He woke and licked her face. \\\"You sad old hound,\\\" she said, ruffling his fur.\\n\\n\\\"Alayne.\\\" Her aunt's singer stood over her. \\\"Sweet Alayne. I am Marillion. I saw you come in from the rain. The night is chill and wet. Let me warm you.\\\"\\n\\nThe old dog raised his head and growled, but the singer gave him a cuff and sent him slinking off, whimpering.\\n\\n\\\"Marillion?\\\" she said, uncertain. \\\"You are... kind to think of me, but... pray forgive me. I am very tired.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And very beautiful. All night I have been making songs for you in my head. A lay for your eyes, a ballad for your lips, a duet to your breasts. I will not sing them, though. They were poor things, unworthy of such beauty.\\\" He sat on her bed and put his hand on her leg. \\\"Let me sing to you with my body instead.\\\"\\n\\nShe caught a whiff of his breath. \\\"You're drunk.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I never get drunk. Mead only makes me merry. I am on fire.\\\" His hand slipped up to her thigh. \\\"And you as well.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Unhand me.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"You forget yourself.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Mercy. I have been singing love songs for hours. My blood is stirred. And yours, I know... there's no wench half so lusty as one bastard born. Are you wet for me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm a maiden,\\\" she protested.\\n\\n\\\"Truly? Oh, Alayne, Alayne, my fair maid, give me the gift of your innocence. You will thank the gods you did. I'll have you singing louder than the Lady Lysa.\\\"\\n\\nSansa jerked away from him, frightened. \\\"If you don't leave me, my au-my father will hang you. Lord Petyr.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Littlefinger?\\\" He chuckled. \\\"Lady Lysa loves me well, and I am Lord Robert's favorite. If your father offends me, I will destroy him with averse.\\\" He put a hand on her breast, and squeezed. \\\"Let's get you out of these wet clothes. You wouldn't want them ripped, I know. Come, sweet lady, heed your heart-\\\"\\n\\nSansa heard the soft sound of steel on leather. \\\"Singer,\\\" a rough voice said, \\\"best go, if you want to sing again.\\\" The light was dim, but she saw a faint glimmer of a blade.\\n\\nThe singer saw it too. \\\"Find your own wench-\\\" The knife flashed, and he cried out. \\\"You cut me!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll do worse, if you don't go.\\\"\\n\\nAnd quick as that, Marillion was gone. The other remained, looming over Sansa in the darkness. \\\"Lord Petyr said watch out for you.\\\" It was Lothor Brune's voice, she realized. Not the Hound's, no, how could it be? Of course it had to be Lothor...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"That night Sansa scarcely slept at all, but tossed and turned just as she had aboard the Merling King. She dreamt of Joffrey dying, but as he clawed at his throat and the blood ran down across his fingers she saw with horror that it washer brother Robb. And she dreamed of her wedding night too, of Tyrion's eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. \\\"I'll have a song from you,\\\" he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. \\\"I wish that you were Lady,\\\" she said.\\n\\nCome the morning, Grisel climbed up to the bedchamber to serve the lord and lady a tray of morning bread, with butter, honey, fruit, and cream. She returned to say that Alayne was wanted. Sansa was still drowsy from sleep. It took her a moment to remember that she was Alayne.\\n\\nLady Lysa was still abed, but Lord Petyr was up and dressed. \\\"Your aunt wishes to speak with you,\\\" he told Sansa, as he pulled on a boot. \\\"I've told her who you are.\\\"\\n\\nGods be good. \\\"I... I thank you, my lord.\\\"\\n\\nPetyr yanked on the other boot. \\\"I've had about as much home as I can stomach. We'll leave for the Eyrie this afternoon.\\\" He kissed his lady wife and licked a smear of honey off her lips, then headed down the steps.\\n\\nSansa stood by the foot of the bed while her aunt ate a pear and studied her. \\\"I see it now,\\\" the Lady Lysa said, as she set the core aside. \\\"You look so much like Catelyn.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It's kind of you to say so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It was not meant as flattery. If truth be told, you look too much like Catelyn. Something must be done. We shall darken your hair before we bring you back to the Eyrie, I think.\\\"\\n\\nDarken my hair? \\\"If it please you, Aunt Lysa.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You must not call me that. No word of your presence here must be allowed to reach King's Landing. I do not mean to have my son endangered.\\\" She nibbled the corner of a honeycomb. \\\"I have kept the Vale out of this war. Our harvest has been plentiful, the mountains protect us, and the Eyrie is impregnable. Even so, it would not do to draw Lord Tywin's wroth down upon us.\\\" Lysa set the comb down and licked honey from her fingers. \\\"You were wed to Tyrion Lannister, Petyr says. That vile dwarf.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They made me marry him. I never wanted it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No more than I did,\\\" her aunt said. \\\"Jon Arryn was no dwarf, but he was old. You may not think so to see me now, but on the day we wed I was so lovely I put your mother to shame. But all Jon desired was my father's swords, to aid his darling boys. I should have refused him, but he was such an old man, how long could he live? Half his teeth were gone, and his breath smelled like bad cheese. I cannot abide a man with foul breath. Petyr's breath is always fresh... he was the first man I ever kissed, you know. My father said he was too lowborn, but I knew how high he'd rise. Jon gave him the customs for Gulltown to please me, but when he increased the incomes tenfold my lord husband saw how clever he was and gave him other appointments, even brought him to King's Landing to be master of coin. That was hard, to see him everyday and still be wed to that old cold man. Jon did his duty in the bedchamber, but he could no more give me pleasure than he could give me children. His seed was old and weak. All my babies died but Robert, three girls and two boys. All my sweet little babies dead, and that old man just went on and on with his stinking breath. So you see, I have suffered too.\\\" Lady Lysa sniffed. \\\"You do know that your poor mother is dead?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Tyrion told me,\\\" said Sansa.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He said the Freys murdered her at The Twins, with Robb.\\\"\\n\\nTears welled suddenly in Lady Lysa's eyes. \\\"We are women alone now, you and I. Are you afraid, child? Be brave. I would never turn away Cat's daughter. We are bound by blood.\\\" She beckoned Sansa closer. \\\"You may come kiss my cheek, Alayne.\\\"\\n\\nDutifully she approached and knelt beside the bed. Her aunt was drenched in sweet scent, though under that was a sour milky smell. Her cheek tasted of paint and powder.\\n\\nAs Sansa stepped back, Lady Lysa caught her wrist. \\\"Now tell me,\\\" she said sharply. \\\"Are you with child? The truth now, I will know if you lie.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" she said, startled by the question.\\n\\n\\\"You area woman flowered, are you not?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\" Sansa knew the truth of her flowering could not belong hidden in the Eyrie. \\\"Tyrion didn't... he never...\\\" She could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. \\\"I am still a maid.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Was the dwarf incapable?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. He was only... he was...\\\" Kind? She could not say that, not here, not to this aunt who hated him so. \\\"He... he had whores, my lady. He told me so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Whores.\\\" Lysa released her wrist. \\\"Of course he did. What woman would bed such a creature, but for gold? I should have killed the Imp when he was in my power, but he tricked me. He is full of low cunning, that one. His sellsword slew my good Ser Vardis Egen. Catelyn should not have brought him here, I told her that. She made off with our uncle too. That was wrong of her. The Blackfish was my Knight of the Gate, and since he left us the mountain clans are growing very bold. Petyr will soon set all that to rights, though. I shall make him Lord Protector of the Vale.\\\" Her aunt smiled for the first time, almost warmly. \\\"He may not look as tall or strong as some, but he is worth more than all of them. Trust in him and do as he says.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I shall, Aunt... my lady.\\\"\\n\\nLady Lysa seemed pleased by that. \\\"I knew that boy Joffrey. He used to call my Robert cruel names, and once he slapped him with a wooden sword. A man will tell you poison is dishonorable, but a woman's honor is different. The Mother shaped us to protect our children, and our only dishonor is in failure. You'll know that, when you have a child.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A child?\\\" said Sansa, uncertainly.\\n\\nLysa waved a hand negligently. \\\"Not for many years. You are too young to be a mother. One day you shall want children, though. Just as you will want to marry.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I... I am married, my lady.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, but soon a widow. Be glad the Imp preferred his whores. It would not befitting for my son to take that dwarf's leavings, but as he never touched you... How would you like to marry your cousin, the Lord Robert?\\\"\\n\\nThe thought made Sansa weary. All she knew of Robert Arryn was that he was a little boy, and sickly. It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love. But lying came easy to her now. \\\"I... can scarcely wait to meet him, my lady. But he is still a child, is he not?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is eight. And not robust. But such a good boy, so bright and clever. He will be a great man, Alayne. The seed is strong, my lord husband said before he died. His last words. The gods sometimes let us glimpse the future as we lay dying. I see no reason why you should not be wed as soon as we know that your Lannister husband is dead. A secret wedding, to be sure. The Lord of the Eyrie could scarcely bethought to have married a bastard, that would not befitting. The ravens should bring us the word from King's Landing once the Imp's head rolls. You and Robert can be wed the next day, won't that be joyous? It will be good for him to have a little companion. He played with Vardis Egen's boy when we first returned to the Eyrie, and my steward's sons as well, but they were much too rough and I had no choice but to send them away. Do you read well, Alayne?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Septa Mordane was good enough to say so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Robert has weak eyes, but he loves to be read to,\\\" Lady Lysa confided. \\\"He likes stories about animals the best. Do you know the little song about the chicken who dressed as a fox? I sing him that all the time, he never grows tired of it. And he likes to play hopfrog and spin-the-sword and come-into-my-castle, but you must always let him win. That's only proper, don't you think? He is the Lord of the Eyrie, after all, you must never forget that. You are well born, and the Starks of Winterfell were always proud, but Winterfell has fallen and you are really just a beggar now, so put that pride aside. Gratitude will better become you, in your present circumstances. Yes, and obedience. My son will have a grateful and obedient wife.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"JON\\n\\nDay and night the axes rang.\\n\\nJon could not remember the last time he had slept. When he closed his eyes he dreamed of fighting; when he woke he fought. Even in the King's Tower he could hear the ceaseless thunk of bronze and flint and stolen steel biting into wood, and it was louder when he tried to rest in the warming shed atop the Wall. Mance had sledgehammers at work as well, and long saws with teeth of bone and flint. Once, as he was drifting off into an exhausted sleep, there came a great cracking from the haunted forest, and a sentinel tree came crashing down in a cloud of dirt and needles.\\n\\nHe was awake when Owen came to him, lying restless under a pile of furs on the floor of the warming shed. \\\"Lord Snow,\\\" said Owen, shaking his shoulder, \\\"the dawn.\\\" He gave Jon a hand to help pull him back onto his feet. Others were waking as well, jostling one another as they pulled on their boots and buckled their swordbelts in the close confines of the shed. No one spoke. They were all too tired for talk. Few of them ever left the Wall these days. It took too long to ride up and down in the cage. Castle Black had been abandoned to Maester Aemon, Ser Wynton Stout, and a few others too old or ill to fight.\\n\\n\\\"I had a dream that the king had come,\\\" Owen said happily. \\\"Maester Aemon sent a raven, and King Robert came with all his strength. I dreamed I saw his golden banners.\\\"\\n\\nJon made himself smile. \\\"That would be a welcome sight to see, Owen.\\\" Ignoring the twinge of pain in his leg, he swept a black fur cloak about his shoulders, gathered up his crutch, and went out onto the Wall to face another day.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A gust of wind sent icy tendrils wending through his long brown hair. Half a mile north, the wildling encampments were stirring, their campfires sending up smoky fingers to scratch against the pale dawn sky. Along the edge of the forest they had raised their tents of hide and fur, even a crude longhall of logs and woven branches; there were horselines to the east, mammoths to the west, and men everywhere, sharpening their swords, putting points on crude spears, donning makeshift armor of hide and horn and bone. For every man that he could see, Jon knew there were a score unseen in the wood. The brush gave them some shelter from the elements and hid them from the eyes of the hated crows.\\n\\nAlready their archers were stealing forward, pushing their rolling mantlets. \\\"Here come our breakfast arrows,\\\" Pyp announced cheerfully, as he did every morning. It's good that he can make a jape of it, Jon thought. Someone has to. Three days ago, one of those breakfast arrows had caught Red Alyn of the Rosewood in the leg. You could still see his body at the foot of the Wall, if you cared to lean out far enough. Jon had to think that it was better for them to smile at Pyp's jest than to brood over Alyn's corpse.\\n\\nThe mantlets were slanting wooden shields, wide enough for five of the free folk to hide behind. The archers pushed them close, then knelt behind them to loose their arrows through slits in the wood. The first time the wildlings rolled them out, Jon had called for fire arrows and set a half-dozen ablaze, but after that Mance started covering them with raw hides. All the fire arrows in the world couldn't make them catch now. The brothers had even started wagering as to which of the straw sentinels would collect the most arrows before they were done. Dolorous Edd was leading with four, but Othell Yarwyck, Tumberjon, and Watt of Long Lake had three apiece. It was Pyp who'd started naming the scarecrows after their missing brothers, too. \\\"It makes it seem as if there's more of us,\\\" he said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"More of us with arrows in our bellies,\\\" Grenn complained, but the custom did seem to give his brothers heart, so Jon let the names stand and the wagering continue.\\n\\nOn the edge of the Wall an ornate brass Myrish eye stood on three spindly legs. Maester Aemon had once used it to peer at the stars, before his own eyes had failed him. Jon swung the tube down to have a look at the foe. Even at this distance there was no mistaking Mance Rayder's huge white tent, sewn together from the pelts of snow bears. The Myrish lenses brought the wildlings close enough for him to make outfaces. Of Mance himself he saw no sign this morning, but his woman Dalla was outside tending the fire, while her sister Val milked a she-goat beside the tent. Dalla looked so big it was a wonder she could move. The child must becoming very soon, Jon thought. He swiveled the eye east and searched amongst the tents and trees till he found the turtle. That will becoming very soon as well. The wildlings had skinned one of the dead mammoths during the night, and they were lashing the raw bloody hide over the turtle's roof, one more layer on top of the sheepskins and pelts. The turtle had a rounded top and eight huge wheels, and under the hides was a stout wooden frame. When the wildlings had begun knocking it together, Satin thought they were building a ship. Not far wrong. The turtle was a hull turned upside down and opened fore and aft; a longhall on wheels.\\n\\n\\\"It's done, isn't it?\\\" asked Grenn.\\n\\n\\\"Near enough.\\\" Jon shoved away the eye. \\\"It will come today, most like. Did you fill the barrels?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Everyone.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They froze hard during the night, Pyp checked.\\\"\\n\\nGrenn had changed a great deal from the big, clumsy, red-necked boy Jon had first befriended. He had grown half afoot, his chest and shoulders had thickened, and he had not cut his hair nor trimmed his beard since the Fist of the First Men. It made him look as huge and shaggy as an aurochs, the mocking name that Ser Alliser Thorne had hung on him during training. He looked weary now, though. When Jon said as much, he nodded. \\\"I heard their axes all night. Couldn't sleep for all the chopping.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then go sleep now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't need-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You do. I want you rested. Goon, I'm not going to let you sleep through the fight.\\\" He made himself smile. \\\"You're the only one who can move those bloody barrels.\\\"\\n\\nGrenn went off muttering, and Jon returned to the far eye, searching the wildling camp. From time to time an arrow would sail past overhead, but he had learned to ignore those. The range was long and the angle was bad, the chances of being hit were small. He still saw no sign of Mance Rayder in the camp, but he spied Tormund Giantsbane and two of his sons around the turtle. The sons were struggling with the mammoth hide while Tormund gnawed on the roast leg of a goat and bellowed orders. Elsewhere he found the wildling skinchanger, Varamyr Sixskins, walking through the trees with his shadowcat dogging his heels.\\n\\nWhen he heard the rattle of the winch chains and the iron groan of the cage door opening, he knew it would be Hobb bringing their breakfast as he did every morning. The sight of Mance's turtle had robbed Jon of his appetite. Their oil was all but gone, and the last barrel of pitch had been rolled off the Wall two nights ago. They would soon run short of arrows as well, and there were no fletchers making more. And the night before last, a raven had come from the west, from Ser Denys Mallister. Bowen Marsh had chased the wildlings all the way to the Shadow Tower, it seemed, and then farther, down into the gloom of the Gorge. At the Bridge of Skulls he had met the Weeper and three hundred wildlings and won a bloody battle. But the victory had been a costly one. More than a hundred brothers slain, among them Ser Endrew Tarth and Ser Aladale Wynch. The Old Pomegranate himself had been carried back to the Shadow Tower sorely wounded. Maester Mullin was tending him, but it would be sometime before he was fit to return to Castle Black.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When he had read that, Jon had dispatched Zei to Mole's Town on their best horse to plead with the villagers to help man the Wall. She never returned. When he sent Mully after her, he came back to report the whole village deserted, even the brothel. Most likely Zei had followed them, straight down the kingsroad. Maybe we should all do the same, Jon reflected glumly.\\n\\nHe made himself eat, hungry or no. Bad enough he could not sleep, he could not goon without food as well. Besides, this might be my last meal. It might be the last meal for all of us. So it was that Jon had a belly full of bread, bacon, onions, and cheese when he heard Horse shout, \\\"IT'S COMING!\\\"\\n\\nNo one needed to ask what'it\\\" was. Nor did Jon need the maester's Myrish eye to see it creeping out from amongst the tents and trees. \\\"It doesn't really look much like a turtle,\\\" Satin commented. \\\"Turtles don't have fur.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Most of them don't have wheels either,\\\" said Pyp.\\n\\n\\\"Sound the warhorn,\\\" Jon commanded, and Kegs blew two long blasts, to wake Grenn and the other sleepers who'd had the watch during the night. If the wildlings were coming, the Wall would need every man. Gods know, we have few enough. Jon looked at Pyp and Kegs and Satin, Horse and Owen the Oaf, Tim Tangletongue, Mully, Spare Boot, and the rest, and tried to imagine them going belly to belly and blade to blade against a hundred screaming wildlings in the freezing darkness of that tunnel, with only a few iron bars between them. That was what it would comedown to, unless they could stop the turtle before the gate was breached.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It's big,\\\" Horse said.\\n\\nPyp smacked his lips. \\\"Think of all the soup it will make.\\\" The jape was stillborn. Even Pyp sounded tired. He looks half dead, thought Jon, but so do we all. The King-beyond-the-Wall had so many men that he could throw fresh attackers at them every time, but the same handful of black brothers had to meet every assault, and it had worn them ragged.\\n\\nThe men beneath the wood and hides would be pulling hard, Jon knew, putting their shoulders into it, straining to keep the wheels turning, but once the turtle was flush against the gate they would exchange their ropes for axes. At least Mance was not sending his mammoths today. Jon was glad of that. Their awesome strength was wasted on the Wall, and their size only made them easy targets. The last had been a day and a half in the dying, its mournful trumpetings terrible to hear.\\n\\nThe turtle crept slowly through stones and stumps and brush. The earlier attacks had cost the free folk a hundred lives or more. Most still lay where they had fallen. In the lulls the crows would come and pay them court, but now the birds fled screeching. They liked the look of that turtle no more than he did.\\n\\nSatin, Horse, and the others were looking to him, Jon knew, waiting for his orders. He was so tired, he hardly knew anymore. The Wallis mine, he reminded himself. \\\"Owen, Horse, to the catapults. Kegs, you and Spare Boot on the scorpions. The rest of you string your bows. Fire arrows. Let's see if we can burn it.\\\" It was likely to be a futile gesture, Jon knew, but it had to be better than standing helpless.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Cumbersome and slow-moving, the turtle made for an easy shot, and his archers and crossbowmen soon turned it into a lumbering wooden hedgehog... but the wet hides protected it, just as they had the mantlets, and the flaming arrows guttered out almost as soon as they struck. Jon cursed under his breath. \\\"Scorpions,\\\" he commanded. \\\"Catapults.\\\"\\n\\nThe scorpions bolts punched deep into the pelts, but did no more damage than the fire arrows. The rocks went bouncing off the turtle's roof, leaving dimples in the thick layers of hides. A stone from one of the trebuchets might have crushed it, but the one machine was still broken, and the wildlings had gone wide around the area where the other dropped its loads.\\n\\n\\\"Jon, it's still coming,\\\" said Owen the Oaf.\\n\\nHe could see that for himself. Inch by inch, yard by yard, the turtle crept closer, rolling, rumbling and rocking as it crossed the killing ground. Once the wildlings got it flush against the Wall, it would give them all the shelter they needed while their axes crashed through the hastily-repaired outer gates. Inside, under the ice, they would clear the loose rubble from the tunnel in a matter of hours, and then there would be nothing to stop them but two iron gates, a few half-frozen corpses, and whatever brothers Jon cared to throw in their path, to fight and die down in the dark.\\n\\nTo his left, the catapult made a thunk and filled the air with spinning stones. They plonked down on the turtle like hail, and caromed harmlessly aside. The wildling archers were still loosing arrows from behind their mantlets. One thudded into the face of a straw man, and Pyp said, \\\"Four for Watt of Long Lake! We have a tie!\\\" The next shaft whistled past his own ear, however. \\\"Fie!\\\" he shouted down. \\\"I'm not in the tourney!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The hides won't burn,\\\" Jon said, as much to himself as to the others. Their only hope was to try and crush the turtle when it reached the Wall. For that, they needed boulders. No matter how stoutly built the turtle was, a huge chunk of rock crashing straight down on top of it from seven hundred feet was bound to do some damage. \\\"Grenn, Owen, Kegs, it's time.\\\"\\n\\nAlongside the warming shed a dozen stout oaken barrels were lined up in a row. They were full of crushed rock; the gravel that the black brothers customarily spread on the footpaths to give themselves better footing atop the Wall. Yesterday, after he'd seen the free folk covering the turtle with sheepskins, Jon told Grenn to pour water into the barrels, as much as they would take. The water would seep down through the crushed stone, and overnight the whole thing would freeze solid. It was the nearest thing to a boulder they were going to get.\\n\\n\\\"Why do we need to freeze it?\\\" Grenn had asked him. \\\"Why don't we just roll the barrels off the way they are?\\\"\\n\\nJon answered, \\\"If they crash against the Wall on the way down they'll burst, and loose gravel will spray everywhere. We don't want to rain pebbles on the whoresons.\\\"\\n\\nHe put his shoulder to the one barrel with Grenn, while Kegs and Owen were wrestling with another. Together they rocked it back and forth to break the grip of the ice that had formed around its bottom. \\\"The bugger weighs a ton,\\\" said Grenn.\\n\\n\\\"Tip it over and roll it,\\\" Jon said. \\\"Careful, if it rolls over your foot you'll end up like Spare Boot.\\\"\\n\\nOnce the barrel was on its side, Jon grabbed a torch and waved it above the surface of the Wall, back and forth, just enough to melt the ice a little. The thin film of water helped the barrel roll more easily. Too easily, in fact; they almost lost it. But finally, with four of them pooling their efforts, they rolled their boulder to the edge and stood it up again.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They had four of the big oak barrels lined up above the gate by the time Pyp shouted, \\\"There's a turtle at our door!\\\" Jon braced his injured leg and leaned out fora look. Hoardings, Marsh should have built hoardings. So many things they should have done. The wildlings were dragging the dead giants away from the gate. Horse and Mully were dropping rocks down on them, and Jon thought he saw one mango down, but the stones were too small to have any effect on the turtle itself. He wondered what the free folk would do about the dead mammoth in the path, but then he saw. The turtle was almost as wide as a longhall, so they simply pushed it over the carcass. His leg twitched, but Horse caught his arm and drew him back to safety. \\\"You shouldn't lean out like that,\\\" the boy said.\\n\\n\\\"We should have built hoardings.\\\" Jon thought he could hear the crash of axes on wood, but that was probably just fear ringing in his ears. He looked to Grenn. \\\"Do it.\\\"\\n\\nGrenn got behind a barrel, put his shoulder against it, grunted, and began to push. Owen and Mully moved to help him. They shoved the barrel out afoot, and then another. And suddenly it was gone.\\n\\nThey heard the thump as it struck the Wall on the way down, and then, much louder, the crash and crack of splintering wood, followed by shouts and screams. Satin whooped and Owen the Oaf danced in circles, while Pyp leaned out and called, \\\"The turtle was stuffed full of rabbits! Look at them hop away!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Again,\\\" Jon barked, and Grenn and Kegs slammed their shoulders against the next barrel, and sent it tottering out into empty air.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"By the time they were done, the front of Mance's turtle was a crushed and splintered ruin, and wildlings were spilling out the other end and scrambling for their camp. Satin scooped up his crossbow and sent a few quarrels after them as they ran, to see them off the faster. Grenn was grinning through his beard, Pyp was making japes, and none of them would die today.\\n\\nOn the morrow, though... Jon glanced toward the shed. Eight barrels of gravel remained where twelve had stood a few moments before. He realized how tired he was then, and how much his wound was hurting. I need to sleep. A few hours, at least. He could go to Maester Aemon for some dreamwine, that would help. \\\"I am going down to the King's Tower,\\\" he told them. \\\"Call me if Mance gets up to anything. Pyp, you have the Wall.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Me?\\\" said Pyp.\\n\\n\\\"Him?\\\" said Grenn.\\n\\nSmiling, he left them to it and rode down in the cage.\\n\\nA cup of dreamwine did help, as it happened. No sooner had he stretched out on the narrow bed in his cell than sleep took him. His dreams were strange and formless, full of strange voices, shouts and cries, and the sound of a warhorn, blowing low and loud, a single deep booming note that lingered in the air.\\n\\nWhen he awoke the sky was black outside the arrow slit that served him fora window, and four men he did not know were standing over him. One held a lantern. \\\"Jon Snow,\\\" the tallest of them said brusquely, \\\"pull on your boots and come with us.\\\"\\n\\nHis first groggy thought was that somehow the Wall had fallen whilst he slept, that Mance Rayder had sent more giants or another turtle and broken through the gate. But when he rubbed his eyes he saw that the strangers were all in black. They're men of the Night's Watch, Jon realized. \\\"Come where? Who are you?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The tall man gestured, and two of the others pulled Jon from the bed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"With the lantern leading the way they marched him from his cell and up a half turn of stair, to the Old Bear's solar. He saw Maester Aemon standing by the fire, his hands folded around the head of a blackthorn cane. Septon Cellador was half drunk as usual, and Ser Wynton Stout was asleep in a window seat. The other brothers were strangers to him. All but one.\\n\\nImmaculate in his fur-trimmed cloak and polished boots, Ser Alliser Thorne turned to say, \\\"Here's the turncloak now, my lord. Ned Stark's bastard, of Winterfell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm no turncloak, Thorne,\\\" Jon said coldly.\\n\\n\\\"We shall see.\\\" In the leather chair behind the table where the Old Bear wrote his letters sat a big, broad, jowly man Jon did not know. \\\"Yes, we shall see,\\\" he said again. \\\"You will not deny that you are Jon Snow, I hope? Stark's bastard?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lord Snow, he likes to call himself.\\\" Ser Alliser was a spare, slim man, compact and sinewy, and just now his flinty eyes were dark with amusement.\\n\\n\\\"You're the one who named me Lord Snow,\\\" said Jon. Ser Alliser had been fond of naming the boys he trained, during his time as Castle Black's master-at-arms. The Old Bear had sent Thorne to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. These others must be Eastwatch men. The bird reached Cotter Pyke and he's sent us help. \\\"How many men have you brought?\\\" he asked the man behind the table.\\n\\n\\\"It's me who'll ask the questions,\\\" the jowly man replied. \\\"You've been charged with oathbreaking, cowardice, and desertion, Jon Snow. Do you deny that you abandoned your brothers to die on the Fist of the First Men and joined the wildling Mance Rayder, this self-styled King-beyond-the-Wall?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Abandoned...?\\\" Jon almost choked on the word.\\n\\nMaester Aemon spoke up then. \\\"My lord, Donal Noye and I discussed these issues when Jon Snow first returned to us, and were satisfied by Jon's explanations.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, I am not satisfied, Maester,\\\" said the jowly man. \\\"I will hear these explanations for myself. Yes I will!\\\"\\n\\nJon swallowed his anger. \\\"I abandoned no one. I left the Fist with Qhorin Halfhand to scout the Skirling Pass. I joined the wildlings under orders. The Halfhand feared that Mance might have found the Horn of Winter...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Horn of Winter?\\\" Ser Alliser chuckled. \\\"Were you commanded to count their snarks as well, Lord Snow?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, but I counted their giants as best I could.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ser,\\\" snapped the jowly man. \\\"You will address Ser Alliser as ser, and myself as m'lord. I am Janos Slynt, Lord of Harrenhal, and commander here at Castle Black until such time as Bowen Marsh returns with his garrison. You will grant us our courtesies, yes. I will not suffer to hear an anointed knight like the good Ser Alliser mocked by a traitor's bastard.\\\" He raised a hand and pointed a meaty finger at Jon's face. \\\"Do you deny that you took a wildling woman into your bed?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\" Jon's grief over Ygritte was too fresh for him to deny her now. \\\"No, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suppose it was also the Halfhand who commanded you to fuck this unwashed whore?\\\" Ser Alliser asked with a smirk.\\n\\n\\\"Ser. She was no whore, ser. The Halfhand told me not to balk, whatever the wildlings asked of me, but... I will not deny that I went beyond what I had to do, that I... cared for her.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You admit to being an oathbreaker, then,\\\" said Janos Slynt.\\n\\nHalf the men at Castle Black visited Mole's Town from time to time to dig for buried treasures in the brothel, Jon knew, but he would not dishonor Ygritte by equating her with the Mole's Town whores. \\\"I broke my vows with a woman. I admit that. Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, m'lord!\\\" When Slynt scowled, his jowls quivered. He was as broad as the Old Bear had been, and no doubt would be as bald if he lived to Mormont's age. Half his hair was gone already, though he could not have been more than forty.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, my lord,\\\" Jon said. \\\"I rode with the wildlings and ate with them, as the Halfhand commanded me, and I shared my furs with Ygritte. But I swear to you, I never turned my cloak. I escaped the Magnar as soon as I could, and never took up arms against my brothers or the realm.\\\"\\n\\nLord Slynt's small eyes studied him. \\\"Ser Glendon,\\\" he commanded, \\\"bring in the other prisoner.\\\"\\n\\nSer Glendon was the tall man who had dragged Jon from his bed. Four other men went with him when he left the room, but they were back soon enough with a captive, a small, sallow, battered man fettered hand and foot. He had a single eyebrow, a widow's peak, and a mustache that looked like a smear of dirt on his upper lip, but his face was swollen and mottled with bruises, and most of his front teeth had been knocked out.\\n\\nThe Eastwatch men threw the captive roughly to the floor. Lord Slynt frowned down at him. \\\"Is this the one you spoke of?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The captive blinked yellow eyes. \\\"Aye.\\\" Not until that instant did Jon recognize Rattleshirt. He is a different man without his armor, he thought. \\\"Aye,\\\" the wildling repeated, \\\"he's the craven killed the Halfhand. Up in the Frostfangs, it were, after we hunted down t'other crows and killed them, everyone. We would have done for this one too, only he begged f'his worthless life, offered t\\\" join us if we'd have him. The Halfhand swore he'd seethe craven dead first, but the wolf ripped Qhorin half t' pieces and this one opened his throat.\\\" He gave Jon a cracktooth smile then, and spat blood on his foot.\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" Janos Slynt demanded of Jon harshly. \\\"Do you deny it? Or will you claim Qhorin commanded you to kill him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He told me...\\\" The words came hard. \\\"He told me to do whatever they asked of me.\\\"\\n\\nSlynt looked about the solar, at the other Eastwatch men. \\\"Does this boy think I fell off a turnip wagon onto my head?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your lies won't save you now, Lord Snow,\\\" warned Ser Alliser Thorne. \\\"We'll have the truth from you, bastard.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've told you the truth. Our garrons were failing, and Rattleshirt was close behind us. Qhorin told me to pretend to join the wildlings.\\\" You must not balk, whatever is asked of you, ' he said. He knew they would make me kill him. Rattleshirt was going to kill him anyway, he knew that too.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So now you claim the great Qhorin Halfhand feared this creature?\\\" Slynt looked at Rattleshirt, and snorted.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"All men fear the Lord o' Bones,\\\" the wildling grumbled. Ser Glendon kicked him, and he lapsed back into silence.\\n\\n\\\"I never said that,\\\" Jon insisted.\\n\\nSlynt slammed a fist on the table. \\\"I heard you! Ser Alliser had your measure true enough, it seems. You lie through your bastard's teeth. Well, I will not suffer it. I will not! You might have fooled this crippled blacksmith, but not Janos Slynt! Oh, no. Janos Slynt does not swallow lies so easily. Did you think my skull was stuffed with cabbage?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't know what your skull is stuffed with. My lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lord Snow is nothing if not arrogant,\\\" said Ser Alliser. \\\"He murdered Qhorin just as his fellow turncloaks did Lord Mormont. It would not surprise me to learn that it was all part of the same fell plot. Benjen Stark may well have a hand in all this as well. For all we know, he is sitting in Mance Rayder's tent even now. You know these Starks, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do,\\\" said Janos Slynt. \\\"I know them too well.\\\"\\n\\nJon peeled off his glove and showed them his burned hand. \\\"I burned my hand defending Lord Mormont from a wight. And my uncle was a man of honor. He would never have betrayed his vows.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No more than you?\\\" mocked Ser Alliser.\\n\\nSepton Cellador cleared his throat. \\\"Lord Slynt,\\\" he said, \\\"this boy refused to swear his vows properly in the sept, but went beyond the Wall to say his words before a heart tree. His father's gods, he said, but they are wildling gods as well.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They are the gods of the north, Septon.\\\" Maester Aemon was courteous, but firm. \\\"My lords, when Donal Noye was slain, it was this young man Jon Snow who took the Wall and held it, against all the fury of the north. He has proved himself valiant, loyal, and resourceful. Were it not for him, you would have found Mance Rayder sitting here when you arrived, Lord Slynt. You are doing him a great wrong. Jon Snow was Lord Mormont's own steward and squire. He was chosen for that duty because the Lord Commander saw much promise in him. As do I.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Promise?\\\" said Slynt. \\\"Well, promise may turn false. Qhorin Halfhand's blood is on his hands. Mormont trusted him, you say, but what of that? I know what it is to be betrayed by men you trusted. Oh, yes. And I know the ways of wolves as well.\\\" He pointed at Jon's face. \\\"Your father died a traitor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My father was murdered.\\\" Jon was past caring what they did to him, but he would not suffer anymore lies about his father.\\n\\nSlynt purpled. \\\"Murder? You insolent pup. King Robert was not even cold when Lord Eddard moved against his son.\\\" He rose to his feet; a shorter man than Mormont, but thick about the chest and arms, with a gut to match. A small gold spear tipped with red enamel pinned his cloak at the shoulder. \\\"Your father died by the sword, but he was highborn, a King's Hand. For you, a noose will serve. Ser Alliser, take this turncloak to an ice cell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My lord is wise.\\\" Ser Alliser seized Jon by the arm.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jon yanked away and grabbed the knight by the throat with such ferocity that he lifted him off the floor. He would have throttled him if the Eastwatch men had not pulled him off. Thorne staggered back, rubbing the marks Jon's fingers had left on his neck. \\\"You see for yourselves, brothers. The boy is a wildling.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"TYRION\\n\\nWhen dawn broke, he found he could not face the thought of food. By evenfall I may stand condemned. His belly was acid with bile, and his nose itched. Tyrion scratched at it with the point of his knife. One last witness to endure, then my turn. But what to do? Deny everything? Accuse Sansa and Ser Dontos? Confess, in the hope of spending the rest of his days on the Wall? Let the dice fly and pray the Red Viper could defeat Ser Gregor Clegane?\\n\\nTyrion stabbed listlessly at a greasy grey sausage, wishing it were his sister. It is bloody cold on the Wall, but at least I would be shut of Cersei. He did not think he would make much of a ranger, but the Night's Watch needed clever men as well as strong ones. Lord Commander Mormont had said as much, when Tyrion had visited Castle Black. There are those inconvenient vows, though. It would mean the end of his marriage and whatever claim he might ever have made for Casterly Rock, but he did not seem destined to enjoy either in any case. And he seemed to recall that there was a brothel in a nearby village.\\n\\nIt was not a life he'd ever dreamed of, but it was life. And all he had to do to earn it was trust in his father, stand upon his little stunted legs, and say, \\\"Yes, I did it, I confess.\\\" That was the part that tied his bowels in knots. He almost wished he had done it, since it seemed he must suffer for it anyway.\\n\\n\\\"My lord?\\\" said Podrick Payne. \\\"They're here, my lord. Ser Addam. And the gold cloaks. They wait without.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pod, tell me true... do you think I did it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The boy hesitated. When he tried to speak, all he managed to produce was a weak sputter.\\n\\nI am doomed. Tyrion sighed. \\\"No need to answer. You've been a good squire tome. Better than I deserved. Whatever happens, I thank you for your leal service.\\\"\\n\\nSer Addam Marbrand waited at the door with six gold cloaks. He had nothing to say this morning, it seemed. Another good man who thinks me a kinslayer. Tyrion summoned all the dignity he could find and waddled down the steps. He could feel them all watching him as he crossed the yard; the guards on the walls, the grooms by the stables, the scullions and washerwomen and serving girls. Inside the throne room, knights and lordlings moved aside to let them through, and whispered to their ladies.\\n\\nNo sooner had Tyrion taken his place before the judges than another group of gold cloaks led in Shae.\\n\\nA cold hand tightened round his heart. Varys betrayed her, he thought. Then he remembered. No. I betrayed her myself. I should have left her with Lollys. Of course they'd question Sansa's maids, I'd do the same. Tyrion rubbed at the slick scar where his nose had been, wondering why Cersei had bothered. Shae knows nothing that can hurt me.\\n\\n\\\"They plotted it together,\\\" she said, this girl he'd loved. \\\"The Imp and Lady Sansa plotted it after the Young Wolf died. Sansa wanted revenge for her brother and Tyrion meant to have the throne. He was going to kill his sister next, and then his own lord father, so he could be Hand for Prince Tommen. But after a year or so, before Tommen got too old, he would have killed him too, so as to take the crown for his own head.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"How could you know all this?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"demanded Prince Oberyn. \\\"Why would the Imp divulge such plans to his wife's maid?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I overheard some, m'lord,\\\" said Shae, \\\"and m'lady let things slip too. But most I had from his own lips. I wasn't only Lady Sansa's maid. I was his whore, all the time he was herein King's Landing. On the morning of the wedding, he dragged me down where they keep the dragon skulls and fucked me therewith the monsters all around. And when I cried, he said I ought to be more grateful, that it wasn't every girl who got to be the king's whore. That was when he told me how he meant to be king. He said that poorboy Joffrey would never know his bride the way he was knowing me.\\\" She started sobbing then. \\\"I never meant to be a whore, m'lords. I was to be married. A squire, he was, and a good brave boy, gentle born. But the Imp saw meat the Green Fork and put the boy I meant to marry in the front rank of the van, and after he was killed he sent his wildlings to bring me to his tent. Shagga, the big one, and Timett with the burned eye. He said if I didn't pleasure him, he'd give me to them, so I did. Then he brought me to the city, so I'd be close when he wanted me. He made me do such shameful things...\\\"\\n\\nPrince Oberyn looked curious. \\\"What sorts of things?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Unspeakable things.\\\" As the tears rolled slowly down that pretty face, no doubt every man in the hall wanted to take Shae in his arms and comfort her. \\\"With my mouth and... other parts, m'lord. All my parts. He used me every way there was, and... he used to make me tell him how big he was. My giant, I had to call him, my giant of Lannister.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Oswald Kettleblack was the first to laugh. Boros and Meryn joined in, then Cersei, Ser Loras, and more lords and ladies than he could count. The sudden gale of mirth made the rafters ring and shook the Iron Throne. \\\"It's true,\\\" Shae protested. \\\"My giant of Lannister.\\\" The laughter swelled twice as loud. Their mouths were twisted in merriment, their bellies shook. Some laughed so hard that snot flew from their nostrils.\\n\\nI saved you all, Tyrion thought. I saved this vile city and all your worthless lives. There were hundreds in the throne room, everyone of them laughing but his father. Or so it seemed. Even the Red Viper chortled, and Mace Tyrell looked like to bust a gut, but Lord Tywin Lannister sat between them as if made of stone, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.\\n\\nTyrion pushed forward. \\\"MY LORDS!\\\" he shouted. He had to shout, to have any hope of being heard.\\n\\nHis father raised a hand. Bit by bit, the hall grew silent.\\n\\n\\\"Get this lying whore out of my sight,\\\" said Tyrion, \\\"and I will give you your confession.\\\"\\n\\nLord Tywin nodded, gestured. Shae looked half in terror as the gold cloaks formed up around her. Her eyes met Tyrion's as they marched her from the wall. Was it shame he saw there, or fear? He wondered what Cersei had promised her. You will get the gold or jewels, whatever it was you asked for, he thought as he watched her back recede, but before the moon has turned she'll have you entertaining the gold cloaks in their barracks.\\n\\nTyrion stared up at his father's hard green eyes with their flecks of cold bright gold. \\\"Guilty,\\\" he said, \\\"so guilty. Is that what you wanted to hear?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Lord Tywin said nothing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mace Tyrell nodded. Prince Oberyn looked mildly disappointed. \\\"You admit you poisoned the king?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nothing of the sort,\\\" said Tyrion. \\\"Of Joffrey's death I am innocent. I am guilty of a more monstrous crime.\\\" He took a step toward his father. \\\"I was born. I lived. I am guilty of being a dwarf, I confess it. And no matter how many times my good father forgave me, I have persisted in my infamy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is folly, Tyrion,\\\" declared Lord Tywin. \\\"Speak to the matter at hand. You are not on trial for being a dwarf.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That is where you err, my lord. I have been on trial for being a dwarf my entire life.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Have you nothing to say in your defense?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nothing but this: I did not do it. Yet now I wish I had.\\\" He turned to face the hall, that sea of palefaces. \\\"I wish I had enough poison for you all. You make me sorry that I am not the monster you would have me be, yet there it is. I am innocent, but I will get no justice here. You leave me no choice but to appeal to the gods. I demand trial by battle.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Have you taken leave of your wits?\\\" his father said.\\n\\n\\\"No, I've found them. I demand trial by battle!\\\"\\n\\nHis sweet sister could not have been more pleased. \\\"He has that right, my lords,\\\" she reminded the judges. \\\"Let the gods judge. Ser Gregor Clegane will stand for Joffrey. He returned to the city the night before last, to put his sword at my service.\\\"\\n\\nLord Tywin's face was so dark that for half a heartbeat Tyrion wondered if he'd drunk some poisoned wine as well. He slammed his fist down on the table, too angry to speak. It was Mace Tyrell who turned to Tyrion and asked the question. \\\"Do you have a champion to defend your innocence?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He does, my lord.\\\" Prince Oberyn of Dorne rose to his feet. \\\"The dwarf has quite convinced me.\\\"\\n\\nThe uproar was deafening. Tyrion took especial pleasure in the sudden doubt he glimpsed in Cersei's eyes. It took a hundred gold cloaks pounding the butts of their spears against the floor to quiet the throne room again. By then Lord Tywin Lannister had recovered himself. \\\"Let the issue be decided on the morrow,\\\" he declared in iron tones. \\\"I wash my hands of it.\\\" He gave his dwarf son a cold angry look, then strode from the hall, out the king's door behind the Iron Throne, his brother Kevan at his side.\\n\\nLater, back in his tower cell, Tyrion poured himself a cup of wine and sent Podrick Payne off for cheese, bread, and olives. He doubted whether he could keep down anything heavier just now. Did you think I would go meekly, Father? he asked the shadow his candles etched upon the wall. I have too much of you in me for that. He felt strangely at peace, now that he had snatched the power of life and death from his father's hands and placed it in the hands of the gods. Assuming there are gods, and they give a mummer's fart. If not, then I'm in Dornish hands. No matter what happened, Tyrion had the satisfaction of knowing that he'd kicked Lord Tywin's plans to splinters. If Prince Oberyn won, it would further inflame Highgarden against the Dornish; Mace Tyrell would seethe man who crippled his son helping the dwarf who almost poisoned his daughter to escape his rightful punishment. And if the Mountain triumphed, Doran Martell might well demand to know why his brother had been served with death instead of the justice Tyrion had promised him. Dorne might crown Myrcella after all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was almost worth dying to know all the trouble he'd made. Will you come to seethe end, Shae? Will you stand therewith the rest, watching as Ser Ilyn lops my ugly head off? Will you miss your giant of Lannister when he's dead? He drained his wine, flung the cup aside, and sang lustily.\\n\\nHe rode through the streets of the city,\\n\\ndown from his hill on high,\\n\\nO'er the wynds and the steps and the cobbles,\\n\\nhe rode to a woman's sigh.\\n\\nFor she was his secret treasure,\\n\\nshe was his shame and his bliss.\\n\\nAnd a chain and a keep are nothing,\\n\\ncompared to a woman's kiss.\\n\\nSer Kevan did not visit him that night. He was probably with Lord Tywin, trying to placate the Tyrells. I have seen the last of that uncle, I fear. He poured another cup of wine. A pity he'd had Symon Silver Tongue killed before learning all the words of that song. It wasn't a bad song, if truth be told. Especially compared to the ones that would be written about him henceforth. \\\"For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm,\\\" he sang. Perhaps he should write the other verses himself. If he lived so long.\\n\\nThat night, surprisingly, Tyrion Lannister slept long and deep. He rose at first light, well rested and with a hearty appetite, and broke his fast on fried bread, blood sausage, applecakes, and a double helping of eggs cooked with onions and fiery Dornish peppers. Then he begged leave of his guards to attend his champion. Ser Addam gave his consent.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tyrion found Prince Oberyn drinking a cup of red wine as he donned his armor. He was attended by four of his younger Dornish lordlings. \\\"Good morrow to you, my lord,\\\" the prince said. \\\"Will you take a cup of wine?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Should you be drinking before battle?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I always drink before battle.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That could get you killed. Worse, it could get me killed.\\\"\\n\\nPrince Oberyn laughed. \\\"The gods defend the innocent. You are innocent, I trust?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Only of killing Joffrey,\\\" Tyrion admitted. \\\"I do hope you know what you are about to face. Gregor Clegane is-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"-large? So I have heard.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is almost eight feet tall and must weigh thirty stone, all of it muscle. He fights with a two-handed greatsword, but needs only one hand to wield it. He has been known to cut men in half with a single blow. His armor is so heavy that no lesser man could bear the weight, let alone move in it.\\\"\\n\\nPrince Oberyn was unimpressed. \\\"I have killed large men before. The trick is to get them off their feet. Once they go down, they're dead.\\\" The Dornishman sounded so blithely confident that Tyrion felt almost reassured, until he turned and said, \\\"Daemon, my spear!\\\" Ser Daemon tossed it to him, and the Red Viper snatched it from the air.\\n\\n\\\"You mean to face the Mountain with a spear?\\\" That made Tyrion uneasy allover again. In battle, ranks of massed spears made fora formidable front, but single combat against a skilled swordsman was a very different matter.\\n\\n\\\"We are fond of spears in Dorne. Besides, it is the only way to counter his reach. Have a look, Lord Imp, but see you do not touch.\\\" The spear was turned ash eight feet long, the shaft smooth, thick, and heavy. The last two feet of that was steel: a slender leaf-shaped spearhead narrowing to a wicked spike. The edges looked sharp enough to shave with. When Oberyn spun the haft between the palms of his hand, they glistened black. Oil? Or poison? Tyrion decided that he would sooner not know. \\\"I hope you are good with that,\\\" he said doubtfully.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You will have no cause for complaint. Though Ser Gregor may. However thick his plate, there will be gaps at the joints. Inside the elbow and knee, beneath the arms... I will find a place to tickle him, I promise you.\\\" He set the spear aside. \\\"It is said that a Lannister always pays his debts. Perhaps you will return to Sunspear with me when the day's bloodletting is done. My brother Doran would be most pleased to meet the rightful heir to Casterly Rock... especially if he brought his lovely wife, the Lady of Winterfell.\\\"\\n\\nDoes the snake think I have Sansa squirreled away somewhere, like a nut I'm hoarding for winter? If so, Tyrion was not about to disabuse him. \\\"A trip to Dorne might be very pleasant, now that I reflect on it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Plan on a lengthy visit.\\\" Prince Oberyn sipped his wine. \\\"You and Doran have many matters of mutual interest to discuss. Music, trade, history, wine, the dwarf's penny... the laws of inheritance and succession. No doubt an uncle's counsel would be of benefit to Queen Myrcella in the trying times ahead.\\\"\\n\\nIf Varys had his little birds listening, Oberyn was giving them a ripe earful. \\\"I believe I will have that cup of wine,\\\" said Tyrion. Queen Myrcella? It would have been more tempting if only he did have Sansa tucked beneath his cloak. If she declared for Myrcella over Tommen, would the north follow? What the Red Viper was hinting at was treason. Could Tyrion truly take up arms against Tommen, against his own father? Cersei would spit blood. It might be worth it for that alone.\\n\\n\\\"Do you recall the tale I told you of our first meeting, Imp?\\\" Prince Oberyn asked, as the Bastard of Godsgrace knelt before him to fasten his greaves. \\\" It was not for your tail alone that my sister and I came to Casterly Rock. We were on a quest of sorts. A quest that took us to Starfall, the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall, and finally Casterly Rock... but our true destination was marriage. Doran was betrothed to Lady Mellario of Norvos, so he had been left behind as castellan of Sunspear. My sister and I were yet unpromised.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2287,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 72"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You will have no cause for complaint. Though Ser Gregor may. However thick his plate, there will be gaps at the joints. Inside the elbow and knee, beneath the arms... I will find a place to tickle him, I promise you.\" He set the spear aside. \"It is said that a Lannister always pays his debts. Perhaps you will return to Sunspear with me when the day's bloodletting is done. My brother Doran would be most pleased to meet the rightful heir to Casterly Rock... especially if he brought his lovely wife, the Lady of Winterfell.\"\n\nDoes the snake think I have Sansa squirreled away somewhere, like a nut I'm hoarding for winter? If so, Tyrion was not about to disabuse him. \"A trip to Dorne might be very pleasant, now that I reflect on it.\"\n\n\"Plan on a lengthy visit.\" Prince Oberyn sipped his wine. \"You and Doran have many matters of mutual interest to discuss. Music, trade, history, wine, the dwarf's penny... the laws of inheritance and succession. No doubt an uncle's counsel would be of benefit to Queen Myrcella in the trying times ahead.\"\n\nIf Varys had his little birds listening, Oberyn was giving them a ripe earful. \"I believe I will have that cup of wine,\" said Tyrion. Queen Myrcella? It would have been more tempting if only he did have Sansa tucked beneath his cloak. If she declared for Myrcella over Tommen, would the north follow? What the Red Viper was hinting at was treason. Could Tyrion truly take up arms against Tommen, against his own father? Cersei would spit blood. It might be worth it for that alone.\n\n\"Do you recall the tale I told you of our first meeting, Imp?\" Prince Oberyn asked, as the Bastard of Godsgrace knelt before him to fasten his greaves. \" It was not for your tail alone that my sister and I came to Casterly Rock. We were on a quest of sorts. A quest that took us to Starfall, the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall, and finally Casterly Rock... but our true destination was marriage. Doran was betrothed to Lady Mellario of Norvos, so he had been left behind as castellan of Sunspear. My sister and I were yet unpromised."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Elia found it all exciting. She was of that age, and her delicate health had never permitted her much travel. I preferred to amuse myself by mocking my sister's suitors. There was Little Lord Lazyeye, Squire Squishlips, one I named the Whale That Walks, that sort of thing. The only one who was even halfway presentable was young Baelor Hightower. A pretty lad, and my sister was half in love with him until he had the misfortune to fart once in our presence. I promptly named him Baelor Breakwind, and after that Elia couldn't look at him without laughing. I was a monstrous young fellow, someone should have sliced out my vile tongue.\"\n\nYes, Tyrion agreed silently. Baelor Hightower was no longer young, but he remained Lord Leyton's heir; wealthy, handsome, and a knight of splendid repute. Baelor Brightsmile, they called him now. Had Elia wed him in place of Rhaegar Targaryen, she might be in Oldtown with her children growing tall around her. He wondered how many lives had been snuffed out by that fart.\n\n\"Lannisport was the end of our voyage,\" Prince Oberyn went on, as Ser Arron Qorgyle helped him into a padded leather tunic and began lacing it up the back. \"Were you aware that our mothers knew each other of old?\"\n\n\"They had been at court together as girls, I seem to recall. Companions to Princess Rhaella?\"\n\n\"Just so. It was my belief that the mothers had cooked up this plot between them. Squire Squishlips and his ilk and the various pimply young maidens who'd been paraded before me were the almonds before the feast, meant only to whet our appetites. The main course was to be served at Casterly Rock.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Cersei and Jaime.\"\n\n\"Such a clever dwarf. Elia and I were older, to be sure. Your brother and sister could not have been more than eight or nine. Still, a difference of five or six years is little enough. And there was an empty cabin on our ship, a very nice cabin, such as might be kept fora person of high birth. As if it were intended that we take someone back to Sunspear. A young page, perhaps. Ora companion for Elia. Your lady mother meant to betroth Jaime to my sister, or Cersei tome. Perhaps both.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Tyrion, \"but my father-\"\n\n\"-ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but was ruled at home by his lady wife, or so my mother always said.\" Prince Oberyn raised his arms, so Lord Dagos Manwoody and the Bastard of Godsgrace could slip a chainmail byrnie down over his head. \" At Oldtown we learned of your mother's death, and the monstrous child she had borne. We might have turned back there, but my mother chose to sail on. I told you of the welcome we found at Casterly Rock.\n\n\"What I did not tell you was that my mother waited as long as was decent, and then broached your father about our purpose. Years later, on her deathbed, she told me that Lord Tywin had refused us brusquely. His daughter was meant for Prince Rhaegar, he informed her. And when she asked for Jaime, to espouse Elia, he offered her you instead.\"\n\n\"Which offer she took for an outrage.\"\n\n\"It was. Even you can see that, surely?\"\n\n\"Oh, surely.\" It all goes back and back, Tyrion thought, to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance on in our steads. \"Well, Prince Rhaegar married Elia of Dorne, not Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock. So it would seem your mother won that tilt.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"She thought so,\" Prince Oberyn agreed, \"but your father is not a man to forget such slights. He taught that lesson to Lord and Lady Tarbeck once, and to the Reynes of Castamere. And at King's Landing, he taught it to my sister. My helm, Dagos.\" Manwoody handed it to him; a high golden helm with a copper disk mounted on the brow, the sun of Dorne. The visor had been removed, Tyrion saw. \"Elia and her children have waited long for justice.\" Prince Oberyn pulled on soft red leather gloves, and took up his spear again. \"But this day they shall have it.\"\n\nThe outer ward had been chosen for the combat. Tyrion had to skip and run to keep up with Prince Oberyn's long strides. The snake is eager, he thought. Let us hope he is venomous as well. The day was grey and windy. The sun was struggling to breakthrough the clouds, but Tyrion could no more have said who was going to win that fight than the one on which his life depended.\n\nIt looked as though a thousand people had come to see if he would live or die. They lined the castle wallwalks and elbowed one another on the steps of keeps and towers. They watched from the stable doors, from windows and bridges, from balconies and roofs. And the yard was packed with them, so many that the gold cloaks and the knights of the Kingsguard had to shove them back to make enough room for the fight. Some had dragged out chairs to watch more comfortably, while others perched on barrels. We should have done this in the Dragonpit, Tyrion thought sourly. We could have charged a penny ahead and paid for Joffrey's wedding and funeral both. Some of the onlookers even had small children sitting on their shoulders, to get a better view. They shouted and pointed at the sight of Tyrion."},{"from":"human","value":"Cersei seemed half a child herself beside Ser Gregor."},{"from":"gpt","value":"In his armor, the Mountain looked bigger than any man had any right to be. Beneath along yellow surcoat bearing the three black dogs of Clegane, he wore heavy plate over chainmail, dull grey steel dinted and scarred in battle. Beneath that would be boiled leather and a layer of quilting. A flat-topped greathelm was bolted to his gorget, with breaths around the mouth and nose and a narrow slit for vision. The crest atop it was a stone fist.\n\nIf Ser Gregor was suffering from wounds, Tyrion could see no sign of it from across the yard. He looks as though he was chiseled out of rock, standing there. His greatsword was planted in the ground before him, six feet of scarred metal. Ser Gregor's huge hands, clad in gauntlets of lobstered steel, clasped the crosshilt to either side of the grip. Even Prince Oberyn's paramour paled at the sight of him. \"You are going to fight that?\" Ellaria Sand said in a hushed voice.\n\n\"I am going to kill that,\" her lover replied carelessly.\n\nTyrion had his own doubts, now that they stood on the brink. When he looked at Prince Oberyn, he found himself wishing he had Bronn defending him... or even better, Jaime. The Red Viper was lightly armored; greaves, vambraces, gorget, spaulder, steel codpiece. Elsewise Oberyn was clad in supple leather and flowing silks. Over his byrnie he wore his scales of gleaming copper, but mail and scale together would not give him a quarter the protection of Gregor's heavy plate. With its visor removed, the prince's helm was effectively no better than a half-helm, lacking even a nasal. His round steel shield was brightly polished, and showed the sun-and-spear in red gold, yellow gold, white gold, and copper."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Dance around him until he's so tired he can hardly lift his arm, then put him on his back. The Red Viper seemed to have the same notion as Bronn. But the sellsword had been blunt about the risks of such tactics. I hope to seven hells that you know what you are doing, snake.\n\nA platform had been erected beside the Tower of the Hand, halfway between the two champions. That was where Lord Tywin sat with his brother Ser Kevan. King Tommen was not in evidence; for that, at least, Tyrion was grateful.\n\nLord Tywin glanced briefly at his dwarf son, then lifted his hand. A dozen trumpeters blew a fanfare to quiet the crowd. The High Septon shuffled forward in his tall crystal crown, and prayed that the Father Above would help them in this judgment, and that the Warrior would lend his strength to the arm of the man whose cause was just. That would be me, Tyrion almost shouted, but they would only laugh, and he was sick unto death of laughter.\n\nSer Osmund Kettleblack brought Clegane his shield, a massive thing of heavy oak rimmed in black iron. As the Mountain slid his left arm through the straps, Tyrion saw that the hounds of Clegane had been painted over. This morning Ser Gregor bore the seven-pointed star the Andals had brought to Westeros when they crossed the narrow sea to overwhelm the First Men and their gods. Very pious of you, Cersei, but I doubt the gods will be impressed.\n\nThere were fifty yards between them. Prince Oberyn advanced quickly, Ser Gregor more ominously. The ground does not shake when he walks, Tyrion told himself. That is only my heart fluttering. When the two men were ten yards apart, the Red Viper stopped and called out, \"Have they told you who I am?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ser Gregor grunted through his breaths. \"Some dead man.\" He came on, inexorable.\n\nThe Dornishman slid sideways. \"I am Oberyn Martell, a prince of Dorne,\" he said, as the Mountain turned to keep him insight. \"Princess Elia was my sister.\"\n\n\"Who?\" asked Gregor Clegane.\n\nOberyn's long spear jabbed, but Ser Gregor took the point on his shield, shoved it aside, and bulled back at the prince, his great sword flashing. The Dornishman spun away untouched. The spear darted forward. Clegane slashed at it, Martell snapped it back, then thrust again. Metal screamed on metal as the spearhead slid off the Mountain's chest, slicing through the surcoat and leaving along bright scratch on the steel beneath. \"Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne,\" the Red Viper hissed. \"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\"\n\nSer Gregor grunted. He made a ponderous charge to hack at the Dornishman's head. Prince Oberyn avoided him easily. \"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\"\n\n\"Did you come to talk or to fight?\"\n\n\"I came to hear you confess.\" The Red Viper landed a quick thrust on the Mountain's belly, to no effect. Gregor cut at him, and missed. The long spear lanced in above his sword. Like a serpent's tongue it flickered in and out, feinting low and landing high, jabbing at groin, shield, eyes. The Mountain makes fora big target, at the least, Tyrion thought. Prince Oberyn could scarcely miss, though none of his blows was penetrating Ser Gregor's heavy plate. The Dornishman kept circling, jabbing, then darting back again, forcing the bigger man to turn and turn again. Clegane is losing sight of him. The Mountain's helm had a narrow eyeslit, severely limiting his vision. Oberyn was making good use of that, and the length of his spear, and his quickness."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It went on that way for what seemed along time. Back and forth they moved across the yard, and round and round in spirals, Ser Gregor slashing at the air while Oberyn's spear struck at arm, and leg, twice at his temple. Gregor's big wooden shield took its share of hits as well, until a dog's head peeped out from under the star, and elsewhere the raw oak showed through. Clegane would grunt from time to time, and once Tyrion heard him mutter a curse, but otherwise he fought in a sullen silence.\n\nNot Oberyn Martell. \"You raped her,\" he called, feinting. \"You murdered her,\" he said, dodging a looping cut from Gregor's greatsword. \"You killed her children,\" he shouted, slamming the spearpoint into the giant's throat, only to have it glance off the thick steel gorget with a screech.\n\n\"Oberyn is toying with him,\" said Ellaria Sand.\n\nThat is fool's play, thought Tyrion. \"The Mountain is too bloody big to be any man's toy.\"\n\nAll around the yard, the throng of spectators was creeping in toward the two combatants, edging forward inch by inch to get a better view. The Kingsguard tried to keep them back, shoving at the gawkers forcefully with their big white shields, but there were hundreds of gawkers and only six of the men in white armor.\n\n\"You raped her.\" Prince Oberyn parried a savage cut with his spearhead. \"You murdered her.\" He sent the spearpoint at Clegane's eyes, so fast the huge man flinched back. \"You killed her children.\" The spear flickered sideways and down, scraping against the Mountain's breastplate. \"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\" The spear was two feet longer than Ser Gregor's sword, more than enough to keep him at an awkward distance. He hacked at the shaft whenever Oberyn lunged at him, trying to lop off the spearhead, but he might as well have been trying to hack the wings off a fly. \"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\" Gregor tried to bull rush, but Oberyn skipped aside and circled round his back. \"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Be quiet.\" Ser Gregor seemed to be moving a little slower, and his greatsword no longer rose quite so high as it had when the contest began. \"Shut your bloody mouth.\"\n\n\"You raped her,\" the prince said, moving to the right.\n\n\"Enough!\" Ser Gregor took two long strides and brought his sword down at Oberyn's head, but the Dornishman backstepped once more. \"You murdered her,\" he said.\n\n\"SHUT UP!\" Gregor charged headlong, right at the point of the spear, which slammed into his right breast then slid aside with a hideous steel shriek. Suddenly the Mountain was close enough to strike, his huge sword flashing in a steel blur. The crowd was screaming as well. Oberyn slipped the first blow and let goof the spear, useless now that Ser Gregor was inside it. The second cut the Dornishman caught on his shield. Metal met metal with an ear-splitting clang, sending the Red Viper reeling. Ser Gregor followed, bellowing. He doesn't use words, he just roars like an animal, Tyrion thought. Oberyn's retreat became a headlong backward flight mere inches ahead of the greatsword as it slashed at his chest, his arms, his head.\n\nThe stable was behind him. Spectators screamed and shoved at each other to get out of the way. One stumbled into Oberyn's back. Ser Gregor hacked down with all his savage strength. The Red Viper threw himself sideways, rolling. The luckless stableboy behind him was not so quick. As his arm rose to protect his face, Gregor's sword took it off between elbow and shoulder. \"Shut UP!\" the Mountain howled at the stableboy's scream, and this time he swung the blade sideways, sending the top half of the lad's head across the yard in a spray of blood and brains. Hundreds of spectators suddenly seemed to lose all interest in the guilt or innocence of Tyrion Lannister, judging by the way they pushed and shoved at each other to escape the yard."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But the Red Viper of Dorne was back on his feet, his long spear in hand. \"Elia,\" he called at Ser Gregor. \"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children. Now say her name.\"\n\nThe Mountain whirled. Helm, shield, sword, surcoat; he was spattered with gore from head to heels. \"You talk too much,\" he grumbled. \"You make my head hurt.\"\n\n\"I will hear you say it. She was Elia of Dorne.\"\n\nThe Mountain snorted contemptuously, and came on... and in that moment, the sun broke through the low clouds that had hidden the sky since dawn.\n\nThe sun of Dorne, Tyrion told himself, but it was Gregor Clegane who moved first to put the sun at his back. This is a dim and brutal man, but he has a warrior's instincts.\n\nThe Red Viper crouched, squinting, and sent his spear darting forward again. Ser Gregor hacked at it, but the thrust had only been a feint. Off balance, he stumbled forward a step.\n\nPrince Oberyn tilted his dinted metal shield. A shaft of sunlight blazed blindingly off polished gold and copper, into the narrow slit of his foe's helm. Clegane lifted his own shield against the glare. Prince Oberyn's spear flashed like lightning and found the gap in the heavy plate, the joint under the arm. The point punched through mail and boiled leather. Gregor gave a choked grunt as the Dornishman twisted his spear and yanked it free.\"Elia. Say it! Elia of Dorne!\" He was circling, spear poised for another thrust. \"Say it!\"\n\nTyrion had his own prayer. Fall down and die, was how it went. Damn you, fall down and die! The blood trickling from the Mountain's armpit was his own now, and he must be bleeding even more heavily inside the breastplate. When he tried to take a step, one knee buckled. Tyrion thought he was going down."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Prince Oberyn had circled behind him. \"ELIA OF DORNE!\" he shouted. Ser Gregor started to turn, but too slow and too late. The spearhead went through the back of the knee this time, through the layers of chain and leather between the plates on thigh and calf. The Mountain reeled, swayed, then collapsed face first on the ground. His huge sword went flying from his hand. Slowly, ponderously, he rolled onto his back.\n\nThe Dornishman flung away his ruined shield, grasped the spear in both hands, and sauntered away. Behind him the Mountain let out a groan, and pushed himself onto an elbow. Oberyn whirled cat-quick, and ran at his fallen foe. \"EEEEELLLLLLIIIIIAAAAA!\" he screamed, as he drove the spear down with the whole weight of his body behind it. The crack of the ashwood shaft snapping was almost as sweet a sound as Cersei's wail of fury, and for an instant Prince Oberyn had wings. The snake has vaulted over the Mountain. Four feet of broken spear jutted from Clegane's belly as Prince Oberyn rolled, rose, and dusted himself off. He tossed aside the splintered spear and claimed his foe's greatsword. \"If you die before you say her name, ser, I will hunt you through all seven hells,\" he promised.\n\nSer Gregor tried to rise. The broken spear had gone through him, and was pinning him to the ground. He wrapped both hands about the shaft, grunting, but could not pull it out. Beneath him was a spreading pool of red. \"I am feeling more innocent by the instant,\" Tyrion told Ellaria Sand beside him.\n\nPrince Oberyn moved closer. \"Say the name!\" He put afoot on the Mountain's chest and raised the greatsword with both hands. Whether he intended to hack off Gregor's head or shove the point through his eyeslit was something Tyrion would never know."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Clegane's hand shot up and grabbed the Dornishman behind the knee. The Red Viper brought down the greatsword in a wild slash, but he was off-balance, and the edge did no more than put another dentin the Mountain's vambrace. Then the sword was forgotten as Gregor's hand tightened and twisted, yanking the Dornishman down on top of him. They wrestled in the dust and blood, the broken spear wobbling back and forth. Tyrion saw with horror that the Mountain had wrapped one huge arm around the prince, drawing him tight against his chest, like a lover.\n\n\"Elia of Dorne,\" they all heard Ser Gregor say, when they were close enough to kiss. His deep voice boomed within the helm. \"I killed her screaming whelp.\" He thrust his freehand into Oberyn's unprotected face, pushing steel fingers into his eyes. \"Then I raped her.\" Clegane slammed his fist into the Dornishman's mouth, making splinters of his teeth. \"Then I smashed her fucking head in. Like this.\" Ashe drew back his huge fist, the blood on his gauntlet seemed to smoke in the cold dawn air. There was a sickening crunch. Ellaria Sand wailed in terror, and Tyrion's breakfast came boiling backup. He found himself on his knees retching bacon and sausage and applecakes, and that double helping of fried eggs cooked up with onions and fiery Dornish peppers.\n\nHe never heard his father speak the words that condemned him. Perhaps no words were necessary. I put my life in the Red Viper's hands, and he dropped it. When he remembered, too late, that snakes had no hands, Tyrion began to laugh hysterically.\n\nHe was halfway down the serpentine steps before he realized that the gold cloaks were not taking him back to his tower room. \"I've been consigned to the black cells,\" he said. They did not bother to answer. Why waste your breath on the dead?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"DAENERYS\n\nDany broke her fast under the persimmon tree that grew in the terrace garden, watching her dragons chase each other about the apex of the Great Pyramid where the huge bronze harpy once stood. Meereen had a score of lesser pyramids, but none stood even half as tall. From here she could seethe whole city: the narrow twisty alleys and wide brick streets, the temples and granaries, hovels and palaces, brothels and baths, gardens and fountains, the great red circles of the fighting pits. And beyond the walls was the pewter sea, the winding Skahazadhan, the dry brown hills, burnt orchards, and blackened fields. Up herein her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world.\n\nDo all gods feel so lonely? Some must, surely. Missandei had told her of the Lord of Harmony, worshiped by the Peaceful People of Naath; he was the only true god, her little scribe said, the god who always was and always would be, who made the moon and stars and earth, and all the creatures that dwelt upon them. Poor Lord of Harmony. Dany pitied him. It must be terrible to be alone for all time, attended by hordes of butterfly women you could make or unmake at a word. Westeros had seven gods at least, though Viserys had told her that some septons said the seven were only aspects of a single god, seven facets of a single crystal. That was just confusing. The red priests believed in two gods, she had heard, but two who were eternally at war. Dany liked that even less. She would not want to be eternally at war.\n\nMissandei served her duck eggs and dog sausage, and half a cup of sweetened wine mixed with the juice of a lime. The honey drew flies, but a scented candle drove them off. The flies were not so troublesome up here as they were in the rest of her city, she had found, something else she liked about the pyramid. \"I must remember to do something about the flies,\" Dany said. \"Are there many flies on Naath, Missandei?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"On Naath there are butterflies,\" the scribe responded in the Common Tongue."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"More wine?\"\n\n\"No. I must hold court soon.\" Dany had grown very fond of Missandei. The little scribe with the big golden eyes was wise beyond her years. She is brave as well. She had to be, to survive the life she's lived. One day she hoped to see this fabled isle of Naath. Missandei said the Peaceful People made music instead of war. They did not kill, not even animals; they ate only fruit and never flesh. The butterfly spirits sacred to their Lord of Harmony protected their isle against those who would do them harm. Many conquerors had sailed on Naath to blood their swords, only to sicken and die. The butterflies do not help them when the slave ships come raiding, though. \"I am going to take you home one day, Missandei,\" Dany promised. If I had made the same promise to Jorah, would he still have sold me? \"I swear it.\"\n\n\"This one is content to stay with you, Your Grace. Naath will be there, always. You are good to this-tome.\"\n\n\"And you tome.\" Dany took the girl by the hand. \"Come help me dress.\"\n\nJhiqui helped Missandei bathe her while Irri was laying out her clothes. Today she wore a robe of purple samite and a silver sash, and on her head the three-headed dragon crown the Tourmaline Brotherhood had given her in Qarth. Her slippers were silver as well, with heels so high that she was always half afraid she was about to topple over. When she was dressed, Missandei brought her a polished silver glass so she could see how she looked. Dany stared at herself in silence. Is this the face of a conqueror? So far as she could tell, she still looked like a little girl."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"No one was calling her Daenerys the Conqueror yet, but perhaps they would. Aegon the Conqueror had won Westeros with three dragons, but she had taken Meereen with sewer rats and a wooden cock, in less than a day. Poor Groleo. He still grieved for his ship, she knew. If a war galley could ram another ship, why not agate? That had been her thought when she commanded the captains to drive their ships ashore. Their masts had become her battering rams, and swarms of freedmen had torn their hulls apart to build mantlets, turtles, catapults, and ladders. The sellswords had given each ram a bawdy name, and it had been the mainmast of Meraxes-formerly Joso's Prank-that had broken the eastern gate. Joso's Cock, they called it. The fighting had raged bitter and bloody for most of a day and well into the night before the wood began to splinter and Meraxes'iron figurehead, a laughing jester's face, came crashing through.\n\nDany had wanted to lead the attack herself, but to a man her captains said that would be madness, and her captains never agreed on anything. Instead she remained in the rear, sitting atop her silver in along shirt of mail. She heard the city fall from half a league away, though, when the defenders' shouts of defiance changed to cries of fear. Her dragons had roared as one in that moment, filling the night with flame. The slaves are rising, she knew at once. My sewer rats have gnawed off their chains.\n\nWhen the last resistance had been crushed by the Unsullied and the sack had run its course, Dany entered her city. The dead were heaped so high before the broken gate that it took her freedmen near an hour to make a path for her silver. Joso's Cock and the great wooden turtle that had protected it, covered with horsehides, lay abandoned within. She rode past burned buildings and broken windows, through brick streets where the gutters were choked with the stiff and swollen dead. Cheering slaves lifted bloodstained hands to her as she went by, and called her'Mother.\""},{"from":"human","value":"In the plaza before the Great Pyramid, the Meereenese huddled forlorn."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Great Masters had looked anything but great in the morning light. Stripped of their jewels and their fringed tokars, they were contemptible; a herd of old men with shriveled balls and spotted skin and young men with ridiculous hair. Their women were either soft and fleshy or as dry as old sticks, their face paint streaked by tears. \"I want your leaders,\" Dany told them. \"Give them up, and the rest of you shall be spared.\"\n\n\"How many?\" one old woman had asked, sobbing. \"How many must you have to spare us?\"\n\n\"One hundred and sixty-three,\" she answered.\n\nShe had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon. But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood...\n\nDany put the glass aside, frowning. It was just. It was. I did it for the children.\n\nHer audience chamber was on the level below, an echoing high-ceilinged room with walls of purple marble. It was a chilly place for all its grandeur. There had been a throne there, a fantastic thing of carved and gilded wood in the shape of a savage harpy. She had taken one long look and commanded it be broken up for firewood. \"I will not sit in the harpy's lap,\" she told them. Instead she sat upon a simple ebony bench. It served, though she had heard the Meereenese muttering that it did not befit a queen.\n\nHer bloodriders were waiting for her. Silver bells tinkled in their oiled braids, and they wore the gold and jewels of dead men. Meereen had been rich beyond imagining. Even her sellswords seemed sated, at least for now. Across the room, Grey Worm wore the plain uniform of the Unsullied, his spiked bronze cap beneath one arm. These at least she could rely on, or so she hoped... and Brown Ben Plumm as well, solid Ben with his grey-white hair and weathered face, so beloved of her dragons. And Daario beside him, glittering in gold. Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei... as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters.\n\n\"Was the night as quiet as it seemed?\" Dany asked.\n\n\"It seems it was, Your Grace,\" said Brown Ben Plumm.\n\nShe was pleased. Meereen had been sacked savagely, as new-fallen cities always were, but Dany was determined that should end now that the city washers. She had decreed that murderers were to be hanged, that looters were to lose a hand, and rapists their manhood. Eight killers swung from the walls, and the Unsullied had filled a bushel basket with bloody hands and soft red worms, but Meereen was calm again. But for how long?\n\nA fly buzzed her head. Dany waved it off, irritated, but it returned almost at once. \"There are too many flies in this city.\"\n\nBen Plumm gave a bark of laughter. \"There were flies in my ale this morning. I swallowed one of them.\"\n\n\"Flies are the dead man's revenge.\" Daario smiled, and stroked the center prong of his beard. \"Corpses breed maggots, and maggots breed flies.\"\n\n\"We will rid ourselves of the corpses, then. Starting with those in the plaza below. Grey Worm, will you see to it?\"\n\n\"The queen commands, these ones obey.\"\n\n\"Best bring sacks as well as shovels, Worm,\" Brown Ben counseled. \"Well past ripe, those ones. Falling off those poles in bits and pieces, and crawling with...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He knows. So do I.\" Dany remembered the horror she had felt when she had seen the Plaza of Punishment in Astapor. I made a horror just as great, but surely they deserved it. Harsh justice is still justice.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" said Missandei, \"Ghiscari inter their honored dead in crypts below their manses. If you would boil the bones clean and return them to their kin, it would be a kindness.\"\n\nThe widows will curse me all the same. \"Let it be done.\" Dany beckoned to Daario. \"How many seek audience this morning?\"\n\n\"Two have presented themselves to bask in your radiance.\"\n\nDaario had plundered himself a whole new wardrobe in Meereen, and to match it he had redyed his trident beard and curly hair a deep rich purple. It made his eyes look almost purple too, as if he were some lost Valyrian. \"They arrived in the night on the Indigo Star, a trading galley out of Qarth.\"\n\nA slaver, you mean. Dany frowned. \"Who are they?\"\n\n\"The Star's master and one who claims to speak for Astapor.\"\n\n\"I will seethe envoy first.\"\n\nHe proved to be a pale ferret-faced man with ropes of pearls and spun gold hanging heavy about his neck. \"Your Worship!\" he cried. \"My name is Ghael. I bring greetings to the Mother of Dragons from King Cleon of Astapor, Cleon the Great.\"\n\nDany stiffened. \"I left a council to rule Astapor. A healer, a scholar, and a priest.\"\n\n\"Your Worship, those sly rogues betrayed your trust. It was revealed that they were scheming to restore the Good Masters to power and the people to chains. Great Cleon exposed their plots and hacked their heads off with a cleaver, and the grateful folk of Astapor have crowned him for his valor.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Noble Ghael,\" said Missandei, in the dialect of Astapor, \"is this the same Cleon once owned by Grazdan mo Ullhor?\"\n\nHer voice was guileless, yet the question plainly made the envoy anxious. \"The same,\" he admitted. \"A great man.\"\n\nMissandei leaned close to Dany. \"He was a butcher in Grazdan's kitchen,\" the girl whispered in her ear. \"It was said he could slaughter a pig faster than any man in Astapor.\"\n\nI have given Astapor a butcher king. Dany felt ill, but she knew she must not let the envoy see it. \"I will pray that King Cleon rules well and wisely. What would he have of me?\"\n\nGhael rubbed his mouth. \"Perhaps we should speak more privily, Your Grace?\"\n\n\"I have no secrets from my captains and commanders.\"\n\n\"As you wish. Great Cleon bids me declare his devotion to the Mother of Dragons. Your enemies are his enemies, he says, and chief among them are the Wise Masters of Yunkai. He proposes a pact between Astapor and Meereen, against the Yunkai'i.\"\n\n\"I swore no harm would come to Yunkai if they released their slaves,\" said Dany.\n\n\"These Yunkish dogs cannot be trusted, Your Worship. Even now they plot against you. New levies have been raised and can be seen drilling outside the city walls, warships are being built, envoys have been sent to New Ghis and Volantis in the west, to make alliances and hire sellswords. They have even dispatched riders to Vaes Dothrak to bring a khalasar down upon you. Great Cleon bid me tell you not to be afraid. Astapor remembers. Astapor will not forsake you. To prove his faith, Great Cleon offers to seal your alliance with a marriage.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"A marriage?"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tome?\"\n\nGhael smiled. His teeth were brown and rotten. \"Great Cleon will give you many strong sons.\"\n\nDany found herself bereft of words, but little Missandei came to her rescue. \"Did his first wife give him sons?\"\n\nThe envoy looked at her unhappily. \"Great Cleon has three daughters by his first wife. Two of his newer wives are with child. But he means to put all of them aside if the Mother of Dragons will consent towed him.\"\n\n\"How noble of him,\" said Dany. \"I will consider all you've said, my lord.\" She gave orders that Ghael be given chambers for the night, somewhere lower in the pyramid.\n\nAll my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror. When word of what had befallen Astapor reached the streets, as it surely would, tens of thousands of newly freed Meereenese slaves would doubtless decide to follow her when she went west, for fear of what awaited them if they stayed... yet it might well be that worse would await them on the march. Even if she emptied every granary in the city and left Meereen to starve, how could she feed so many? The way before her was fraught with hardship, bloodshed, and danger. Ser Jorah had warned her of that. He'd warned her of so many things... he'd... No, I will not think of Jorah Mormont. Let him keep a little longer. \"I shall see this trader captain,\" she announced. Perhaps he would have some better tidings.\n\nThat proved to be a forlorn hope. The master of the Indigo Star was Qartheen, so he wept copiously when asked about Astapor. \"The city bleeds. Dead men rot unburied in the streets, each pyramid is an armed camp, and the markets have neither food nor slaves for sale. And the poor children! King Cleaver's thugs have seized every highborn boy in Astapor to make new Unsullied for the trade, though it will be years before they are trained.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The thing that surprised Dany most was how unsurprised she was. She found herself remembering Eroeh, the Lhazarene girl she had once tried to protect, and what had happened to her. It will be the same in Meereen once I march, she thought. The slaves from the fighting pits, bred and trained to slaughter, were already proving themselves unruly and quarrelsome. They seemed to think they owned the city now, and every man and woman in it. Two of them had been among the eight she'd hanged. There is no more I can do, she told herself. \"What do you want of me, Captain?\"\n\n\"Slaves,\" he said. \"My holds are full to bursting with ivory, ambergris, zorse hides, and other fine goods. I would trade them here for slaves, to sell in Lys and Volantis.\"\n\n\"We have no slaves for sale,\" said Dany.\n\n\"My queen?\" Daario stepped forward. \"The riverside is full of Meereenese, begging leave to be allowed to sell themselves to this Qartheen. They are thicker than the flies.\"\n\nDany was shocked. \"They want to be slaves?\"\n\n\"The ones who come are well spoken and gently born, sweet queen. Such slaves are prized. In the Free Cities they will be tutors, scribes, bed slaves, even healers and priests. They will sleep in soft beds, eat rich foods, and dwell in manses. Here they have lost all, and live in fear and squalor.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Perhaps it was not so shocking, if these tales of Astapor were true. Dany thought a moment. \"Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman.\" She raised a hand. \"But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"In Astapor the city took a tenth part of the price, each time a slave changed hands,\" Missandei told her.\n\n\"We'll do the same,\" Dany decided. Wars were won with gold as much as swords. \"A tenth part. In gold or silver coin, or ivory. Meereen has no need of saffron, cloves, or zorse hides.\"\n\n\"It shall be done as you command, glorious queen,\" said Daario. \"My Stormcrows will collect your tenth.\"\n\nIf the Stormcrows saw to the collections at least half the gold would somehow go astray, Dany knew. But the Second Sons were just as bad, and the Unsullied were as unlettered as they were incorruptible. \"Records must be kept,\" she said. \"Seek among the freedmen for men who can read, write, and do sums.\"\n\nHis business done, the captain of the Indigo Star bowed and took his leave. Dany shifted uncomfortably on the ebony bench. She dreaded what must come next, yet she knew she had put it off too long already. Yunkai and Astapor, threats of war, marriage proposals, the march west looming overall... I need my knights. I need their swords, and I need their counsel. Yet the thought of seeing Jorah Mormont again made her feel as if she'd swallowed a spoonful of flies; angry, agitated, sick. She could almost feel them buzzing round her belly. I am the blood of the dragon. I must be strong. I must have fire in my eyes when I face them, not tears. \"Tell Belwas to bring my knights,\" Dany commanded, before she could change her mind. \"My good knights.\"\n\nStrong Belwas was puffing from the climb when he marched them through the doors, one meaty hand wrapped tight around each man's arm. Ser Barristan walked with his head held high, but Ser Jorah stared at the marble floor as he approached. The one is proud, the other guilty. The old man had shaved off his white beard. He looked ten years younger without it. But her balding bear looked older than he had. They halted before the bench. Strong Belwas stepped back and stood with his arms crossed across his scarred chest. Ser Jorah cleared his throat. \"Khaleesi...\""},{"from":"human","value":"She had missed his voice so much, but she had to be stern."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Be quiet. I will tell you when to speak.\" She stood. \"When I sent you down into the sewers, part of me hoped I'd seen the last of you. It seemed a fitting end for liars, to drown in slavers\" filth. I thought the gods would deal with you, but instead you returned tome. My gallant knights of Westeros, an informer and a turncloak. My brother would have hanged you both.\" Viserys would have, anyway. She did not know what Rhaegar would have done. \"I will admit you helped win me this city...\"\n\nSer Jorah's mouth tightened. \"We won you this city. We sewer rats.\"\n\n\"Be quiet,\" she said again... though there was truth to what he said. While Joso's Cock and the other rams were battering the city gates and her archers were firing flights of flaming arrows over the walls, Dany had sent two hundred men along the river undercover of darkness to fire the hulks in the harbor. But that was only to hide their true purpose. As the flaming ships drew the eyes of the defenders on the walls, a few half-mad swimmers found the sewer mouths and pried loose a rusted iron grating. Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Strong Belwas, and twenty brave fools slipped beneath the brown water and up the brick tunnel, a mixed force of sellswords, Unsullied, and freedmen. Dany had told them to choose only men who had no families... and preferably no sense of smell.\n\nThey had been lucky as well as brave. It had been a moon's turn since the last good rain, and the sewers were only thigh-high. The oilcloth they'd wrapped around their torches kept them dry, so they had light. A few of the freedmen were frightened of the huge rats until Strong Belwas caught one and bit it in two. One man was killed by a great pale lizard that reared up out of the dark water to drag him off by the leg, but when next ripples were spied Ser Jorah butchered the beast with his blade. They took some wrong turnings, but once they found the surface Strong Belwas led them to the nearest fighting pit, where they surprised a few guards and struck the chains off the slaves. Within an hour, half the fighting slaves in Meereen had risen."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You helped win this city,\" she repeated stubbornly. \"And you have served me well in the past. Ser Barristan saved me from the Titan's Bastard, and from the Sorrowful Man in Qarth. Ser Jorah saved me from the poisoner in Vaes Dothrak, and again from Drogo's bloodriders after my sun-and-stars had died.\" So many people wanted her dead, sometimes she lost count. \"And yet you lied, deceived me, betrayed me.\" She turned to Ser Barristan. \"You protected my father for many years, fought beside my brother on the Trident, but you abandoned Viserys in his exile and bent your knee to the Usurper instead. Why? And tell it true.\"\n\n\"Some truths are hard to hear. Robert was a... a good knight... chivalrous, brave... he spared my life, and the lives of many others... Prince Viserys was only a boy, it would have been years before he was fit to rule, and... forgive me, my queen, but you asked for truth... even as a child, your brother Viserys oft seemed to be his father's son, in ways that Rhaegar never did.\"\n\n\"His father's son?\" Dany frowned. \"What does that mean?\"\n\nThe old knight did not blink. \"Your father is called \"the Mad King\" in Westeros. Has no one ever told you?\"\n\n\"Viserys did.\" The Mad King. \"The Usurper called him that, the Usurper and his dogs.\" The Mad King. \"It was a lie.\"\n\n\"Why ask for truth,\" Ser Barristan said softly, \"if you close your ears to it?\" He hesitated, then continued. \"I told you before that I used a false name so the Lannisters would not know that I'd joined you. That was less than half of it, Your Grace. The truth is, I wanted to watch you fora time before pledging you my sword. To make certain that you were not...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"... my father's daughter?\" If she was not her father's daughter, who was she?\n\n\"... mad,\" he finished. \"But I see no taint in you.\"\n\n\"Taint?\" Dany bristled.\n\n\"I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time anew Targaryen is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.\"\n\nJaehaerys. This old man knew my grandfather. The thought gave her pause. Most of what she knew of Westeros had come from her brother, and the rest from Ser Jorah. Ser Barristan would have forgotten more than the two of them had ever known. This man can tell me what I came from. \"So I am a coin in the hands of some god, is that what you are saying, ser?\"\n\n\"No,\" Ser Barristan replied. \"You are the trueborn heir of Westeros. To the end of my days I shall remain your faithful knight, should you find me worthy to bear a sword again. If not, I am content to serve Strong Belwas as his squire.\"\n\n\"What if I decide you're only worthy to be my fool?\" Dany asked scornfully. \"Or perhaps my cook?\"\n\n\"I would be honored, Your Grace,\" Selmy said with quiet dignity. \"I can bake apples and boil beef as well as any man, and I've roasted many a duck over a campfire. I hope you like them greasy, with charred skin and bloody bones.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"That made her smile. \"I'd have to be mad to eat such fare. Ben Plumm, come give Ser Barristan your longsword.\"\n\nBut Whitebeard would not take it. \"I flung my sword at Joffrey's feet and have not touched one since. Only from the hand of my queen will I accept a sword again.\"\n\n\"As you wish.\" Dany took the sword from Brown Ben and offered it hilt first. The old man took it reverently. \"Now kneel,\" she told him, \"and swear it to my service.\"\n\nHe went to one knee and lay the blade before her as he said the words. Dany scarcely heard them. He was the easy one, she thought. The other will be harder. When Ser Barristan was done, she turned to Jorah Mormont. \"And now you, ser. Tell me true.\"\n\nThe big man's neck was red; whether from anger or shame she did not know. \"I have tried to tell you true, half a hundred times. I told you Arstan was more than he seemed. I warned you that Xaro and Pyat Pree were not to be trusted. I warned you-\"\n\n\"You warned me against everyone except yourself.\" His insolence angered her. He should be humbler. He should beg for my forgiveness. \"Trust no one but Jorah Mormont, you said... and all the time you were the Spider's creature!\"\n\n\"I am no man's creature. I took the eunuch's gold, yes. I learned some ciphers and wrote some letters, but that was all-\"\n\n\"All? You spied on me and sold me to my enemies!\"\n\n\"Fora time.\" He said it grudgingly. \"I stopped.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"When?"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When did you stop?\"\n\n\"I made one report from Qarth, but-\"\n\n\"From Qarth?\" Dany had been hoping it had ended much earlier. \"What did you write from Quarth? That you were my man now, that you wanted no more of their schemes?\" Ser Jorah could not meet her eyes. \"When Khal Drogo died, you asked me to go with you to Yi Ti and the Jade Sea. Was that your wish or Robert's?\"\n\n\"That was to protect you,\" he insisted. \"To keep you away from them. I knew what snakes they were...\"\n\n\"Snakes? And what are you, ser?\" Something unspeakable occurred to her. \"You told them I was carrying Drogo's child...\"\n\n\"Khaleesi...\"\n\n\"Do not think to deny it, ser,\" Ser Barristan said sharply. \"I was there when the eunuch told the council, and Robert decreed that Her Grace and her child must die. You were the source, ser. There was even talk that you might do the deed, fora pardon.\"\n\n\"A lie.\" Ser Jorah's face darkened. \"I would never... Daenerys, it was me who stopped you from drinking the wine.\"\n\n\"Yes. And how was it you knew the wine was poisoned?\"\n\n\"I... I but suspected... the caravan brought a letter from Varys, he warned me there would be attempts. He wanted you watched, yes, but not harmed.\" He went to his knees. \"If I had not told them someone else would have. You know that.\"\n\n\"I know you betrayed me.\" She touched her belly, where her son Rhaego had perished. \"I know a poisoner tried to kill my son, because of you. That's what I know.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No... no.\" He shook his head. \"I never meant... forgive me. You have to forgive me.\"\n\n\"Have to?\" It was too late. He should have begun by begging forgiveness. She could not pardon him as she'd intended. She had dragged the wineseller behind her horse until there was nothing left of him. Didn't the man who brought him deserve the same? This is Jorah, my fierce bear, the right arm that never failed me. I would be dead without him, but...\"I can't forgive you,\" she said. \"I can't.\"\n\n\"You forgave the old man...\"\n\n\"He lied tome about his name. You sold my secrets to the men who killed my father and stole my brother's throne.\"\n\n\"I protected you. I fought for you. Killed for you.\"\n\nKissed me, she thought, betrayed me.\n\n\"I went down into the sewers like a rat. For you.\"\n\nIt might have been kinder if you'd died there. Dany said nothing. There was nothing to say.\n\n\"Daenerys,\" he said, \"I have loved you.\"\n\nAnd there it was. Three treasons will you know. Once for blood and once for gold and once for love. \"The gods do nothing without a purpose, they say. You did not die in battle, so it must be they still have some use for you. But I don't. I will not have you near me. You are banished, ser. Go back to your masters in King's Landing and collect your pardon, if you can. Or to Astapor. No doubt the butcher king needs knights.\"\n\n\"No.\" He reached for her. \"Daenerys, please, hear me...\"\n\nShe slapped his hand away. \"Do not ever presume to touch me again, or to speak my name. You have until dawn to collect your things and leave this city. If you're found in Meereen past break of day, I will have Strong Belwas twist your head off. I will. Believe that.\" She turned her back on him, her skirts swirling. I cannot bear to see his face. \"Remove this liar from my sight,\" she commanded. I must not weep. I must not. If I weep I will forgive him. Strong Belwas seized Ser Jorah by the arm and dragged him out. When Dany glanced back, the knight was walking as if drunk, stumbling and slow. She looked away until she heard the doors open and close. Then she sank back onto the ebony bench. He's gone, then. My father and my mother, my brothers, Ser Willem Darry, Drogo who was my sun-and-stars, his son who died inside me, and now Ser Jorah..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The queen has a good heart,\" Daario purred through his deep purple whiskers, \"but that one is more dangerous than all the Oznaks and Meros rolled up in one.\" His strong hands caressed the hilts of his matched blades, those wanton golden women. \"You need not even say the word, my radiance. Only give the tiniest nod, and your Daario shall fetch you back his ugly head.\"\n\n\"Leave him be. The scales are balanced now. Let him go home.\" Dany pictured Jorah moving amongst old gnarled oaks and tall pines, past flowering thornbushes, grey stones bearded with moss, and little creeks running icy down steep hillsides. She saw him entering a hall built of huge logs, where dogs slept by the hearth and the smell of meat and mead hung thick in the smoky air. \"We are done for now,\" she told her captains.\n\nIt was all she could do not to run backup the wide marble stairs. Irri helped her slip from her court clothes and into more comfortable garb; baggy woolen breeches, a loose felted tunic, a painted Dothraki vest. \"You are trembling, Khaleesi,\" the girl said as she knelt to lace up Dany's sandals.\n\n\"I'm cold,\" Dany lied. \"Bring me the book I was reading last night.\" She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children's stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When her handmaid brought the book, Dany had no trouble finding the page where she had left off, but it was no good. She found herself reading the same passage half a dozen times. Ser Jorah gave me this book as a bride's gift, the day I wed Khal Drogo. But Daario is right, I shouldn't have banished him. I should have kept him, or I should have killed him. She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him.\n\nDany fled from the choice, out onto the terrace. She found Rhaegal asleep beside the pool, a green and bronze coil basking in the sun. Drogon was perched up atop the pyramid, in the place where the huge bronze harpy had stood before she had commanded it to be pulled down. He spread his wings and roared when he spied her. There was no sign of Viserion, but when she went to the parapet and scanned the horizon she saw pale wings in the far distance, sweeping above the river. He is hunting. They grow bolder everyday. Yet it still made her anxious when they flew too faraway. One day one of them may not return, she thought.\n\n\"Your Grace?\"\n\nShe turned to find Ser Barristan behind her. \"What more would you have of me, ser? I spared you, I took you into my service, now give me some peace.\"\n\n\"Forgive me, Your Grace. It was only... now that you know who I am...\" The old man hesitated. \"A knight of the Kingsguard is in the king's presence day and night. For that reason, our vows require us to protect his secrets as we would his life. But your father's secrets by rights belong to you now, along with his throne, and... I thought perhaps you might have questions for me.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Questions? She had a hundred questions, a thousand, ten thousand. Why couldn't she think of one? \"Was my father truly mad?\" she blurted out. Why do I ask that? \"Viserys said this talk of madness was a ploy of the Usurper's...\"\n\n\"Viserys was a child, and the queen sheltered him as much as she could. Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise... but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until...\"\n\nDany stopped him. \"Do I want to hear this now?\"\n\nSer Barristan considered a moment. \"Perhaps not. Not now.\"\n\n\"Not now,\" she agreed. \"One day. One day you must tell me all. The good and the bad. There is some good to be said of my father, surely?\"\n\n\"There is, Your Grace. Of him, and those who came before him. Your grandfather Jaehaerys and his brother, their father Aegon, your mother... and Rhaegar. Him most of all.\"\n\n\"I wish I could have known him.\" Her voice was wistful.\n\n\"I wish he could have known you,\" the old knight said. \"When you are ready, I will tell you all.\"\n\nDany kissed him on the cheek and sent him on his way.\n\nThat night her handmaids brought her lamb, with a salad of raisins and carrots soaked in wine, and a hot flaky bread dripping with honey. She could eat none of it. Did Rhaegar ever grow so weary? she wondered. Did Aegon, after his conquest?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Later, when the time came for sleep, Dany took Irri into bed with her, for the first time since the ship. But even as she shuddered in release and wound her fingers through her handmaid's thick black hair, she pretended it was Drogo holding her... only somehow his face kept turning into Daario's. If I want Daario I need only say so. She lay with Irri's legs entangled in her own. His eyes looked almost purple today...\n\nDany's dreams were dark that night, and she woke three times from half-remembered nightmares. After the third time she was too restless to return to sleep. Moonlight streamed through the slanting windows, silvering the marble floors. A cool breeze was blowing through the open terrace doors. Irri slept soundly beside her, her lips slightly parted, one dark brown nipple peeping out above the sleeping silks. Fora moment Dany was tempted, but it was Drogo she wanted, or perhaps Daario. Not Irri. The maid was sweet and skillful, but all her kisses tasted of duty.\n\nShe rose, leaving Irri asleep in the moonlight. Jhiqui and Missandei slept in their own beds. Dany slipped on a robe and padded barefoot across the marble floor, out onto the terrace. The air was chilly, but she liked the feel of grass between her toes and the sound of the leaves whispering to one another. Wind ripples chased each other across the surface of the little bathing pool and made the moon's reflection dance and shimmer.\n\nShe leaned against a low brick parapet to look down upon the city. Meereen was sleeping too. Lost in dreams of kinder days, perhaps. Night covered the streets like a black blanket, hiding the corpses and the grey rats that came up from the sewers to feast on them, the swarms of stinging flies. Distant torches glimmered red and yellow where her sentries walked their rounds, and here and there she saw the faint glow of lanterns bobbing down an alley. Perhaps one was Ser Jorah, leading his horse slowly toward the gate. Farewell, old bear. Farewell, betrayer."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, khaleesi and queen, Mother of Dragons, slayer of warlocks, breaker of chains, and there was no one in the world that she could trust.\n\n\"Your Grace?\" Missandei stood at her elbow wrapped in a bedrobe, wooden sandals on her feet. \"I woke, and saw that you were gone. Did you sleep well? What are you looking at?\"\n\n\"My city,\" said Dany. \"I was looking fora house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black.\"\n\n\"A red door?\" Missandei was puzzled. \"What house is this?\"\n\n\"No house. It does not matter.\" Dany took the younger girl by the hand. \"Never lie tome, Missandei. Never betray me.\"\n\n\"I never would,\" Missandei promised. \"Look, dawn comes.\"\n\nThe sky had turned a cobalt blue from the horizon to the zenith, and behind the line of low hills to the east aglow could be seen, pale gold and oyster pink. Dany held Missandei's hand as they watched the sun come up. All the grey bricks became red and yellow and blue and green and orange. The scarlet sands of the fighting pits transformed them into bleeding sores before her eyes. Elsewhere the golden dome of the Temple of the Graces blazed bright, and bronze stars winked along the walls where the light of the rising sun touched the spikes on the helms of the Unsullied. On the terrace, a few flies stirred sluggishly. A bird began to chirp in the persimmon tree, and then two more. Dany cocked her head to hear their song, but it was not long before the sounds of the waking city drowned them out."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The sounds of my city.\n\nThat morning she summoned her captains and commanders to the garden, rather than descending to the audience chamber. \"Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver's Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.\"\n\n\"There is nothing to stay for,\" said Brown Ben Plumm.\n\n\"Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,\" said Daario Naharis.\n\n\"You have brought freedom as well,\" Missandei pointed out.\n\n\"Freedom to starve?\" asked Dany sharply. \"Freedom to die? Am Ia dragon, or a harpy?\" Am I mad? Do I have the taint?\n\n\"A dragon,\" Ser Barristan said with certainty. \"Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?\" He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. \"My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I've freed allover again.\" She turned back to look at their faces. \"I will not march.\"\n\n\"What will you do then, Khaleesi?\" asked Rakharo.\n\n\"Stay,\" she said. \"Rule. And be a queen.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"JAIME\n\nThe king sat at the head of the table, a stack of cushions under his arse, signing each document as it was presented to him.\n\n\"Only a few more, Your Grace,\" Ser Kevan Lannister assured him. \"This is a bill of attainder against Lord Edmure Tully, stripping him of Riverrun and all its lands and incomes, for rebelling against his lawful king. This is a similar attainder, against his uncle Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish.\" Tommen signed them one after the other, dipping the quill carefully and writing his name in abroad childish hand.\n\nJaime watched from the foot of the table, thinking of all those lords who aspired to a seat on the king's small council. They can bloody well have mine. If this was power, why did it taste like tedium? He did not feel especially powerful, watching Tommen dip his quill in the inkpot again. He felt bored.\n\nAnd sore. Every muscle in his body ached, and his ribs and shoulders were bruised from the battering they'd gotten, courtesy of Ser Addam Marbrand. Just thinking of it made him wince. He could only hope the man would keep his mouth shut. Jaime had known Marbrand since he was a boy, serving as a page at Casterly Rock; he trusted him as much as he trusted anyone. Enough to ask him to take up shields and tourney swords. He had wanted to know if he could fight with his left hand.\n\nAnd now I do. The knowledge was more painful than the beating that Ser Addam had given him, and the beating was so bad he could hardly dress himself this morning. If they had been fighting in earnest, Jaime would have died two dozen deaths. It seemed so simple, changing hands. It wasn't. Every instinct he had was wrong. He had to think about everything, where once he'd just moved. And while he was thinking, Marbrand was thumping him. His left hand couldn't even seem to hold a longsword properly; Ser Addam had disarmed him thrice, sending his blade spinning."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 72\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You will have no cause for complaint. Though Ser Gregor may. However thick his plate, there will be gaps at the joints. Inside the elbow and knee, beneath the arms... I will find a place to tickle him, I promise you.\\\" He set the spear aside. \\\"It is said that a Lannister always pays his debts. Perhaps you will return to Sunspear with me when the day's bloodletting is done. My brother Doran would be most pleased to meet the rightful heir to Casterly Rock... especially if he brought his lovely wife, the Lady of Winterfell.\\\"\\n\\nDoes the snake think I have Sansa squirreled away somewhere, like a nut I'm hoarding for winter? If so, Tyrion was not about to disabuse him. \\\"A trip to Dorne might be very pleasant, now that I reflect on it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Plan on a lengthy visit.\\\" Prince Oberyn sipped his wine. \\\"You and Doran have many matters of mutual interest to discuss. Music, trade, history, wine, the dwarf's penny... the laws of inheritance and succession. No doubt an uncle's counsel would be of benefit to Queen Myrcella in the trying times ahead.\\\"\\n\\nIf Varys had his little birds listening, Oberyn was giving them a ripe earful. \\\"I believe I will have that cup of wine,\\\" said Tyrion. Queen Myrcella? It would have been more tempting if only he did have Sansa tucked beneath his cloak. If she declared for Myrcella over Tommen, would the north follow? What the Red Viper was hinting at was treason. Could Tyrion truly take up arms against Tommen, against his own father? Cersei would spit blood. It might be worth it for that alone.\\n\\n\\\"Do you recall the tale I told you of our first meeting, Imp?\\\" Prince Oberyn asked, as the Bastard of Godsgrace knelt before him to fasten his greaves. \\\" It was not for your tail alone that my sister and I came to Casterly Rock. We were on a quest of sorts. A quest that took us to Starfall, the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall, and finally Casterly Rock... but our true destination was marriage. Doran was betrothed to Lady Mellario of Norvos, so he had been left behind as castellan of Sunspear. My sister and I were yet unpromised.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Elia found it all exciting. She was of that age, and her delicate health had never permitted her much travel. I preferred to amuse myself by mocking my sister's suitors. There was Little Lord Lazyeye, Squire Squishlips, one I named the Whale That Walks, that sort of thing. The only one who was even halfway presentable was young Baelor Hightower. A pretty lad, and my sister was half in love with him until he had the misfortune to fart once in our presence. I promptly named him Baelor Breakwind, and after that Elia couldn't look at him without laughing. I was a monstrous young fellow, someone should have sliced out my vile tongue.\\\"\\n\\nYes, Tyrion agreed silently. Baelor Hightower was no longer young, but he remained Lord Leyton's heir; wealthy, handsome, and a knight of splendid repute. Baelor Brightsmile, they called him now. Had Elia wed him in place of Rhaegar Targaryen, she might be in Oldtown with her children growing tall around her. He wondered how many lives had been snuffed out by that fart.\\n\\n\\\"Lannisport was the end of our voyage,\\\" Prince Oberyn went on, as Ser Arron Qorgyle helped him into a padded leather tunic and began lacing it up the back. \\\"Were you aware that our mothers knew each other of old?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They had been at court together as girls, I seem to recall. Companions to Princess Rhaella?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just so. It was my belief that the mothers had cooked up this plot between them. Squire Squishlips and his ilk and the various pimply young maidens who'd been paraded before me were the almonds before the feast, meant only to whet our appetites. The main course was to be served at Casterly Rock.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Cersei and Jaime.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Such a clever dwarf. Elia and I were older, to be sure. Your brother and sister could not have been more than eight or nine. Still, a difference of five or six years is little enough. And there was an empty cabin on our ship, a very nice cabin, such as might be kept fora person of high birth. As if it were intended that we take someone back to Sunspear. A young page, perhaps. Ora companion for Elia. Your lady mother meant to betroth Jaime to my sister, or Cersei tome. Perhaps both.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps,\\\" said Tyrion, \\\"but my father-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"-ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but was ruled at home by his lady wife, or so my mother always said.\\\" Prince Oberyn raised his arms, so Lord Dagos Manwoody and the Bastard of Godsgrace could slip a chainmail byrnie down over his head. \\\" At Oldtown we learned of your mother's death, and the monstrous child she had borne. We might have turned back there, but my mother chose to sail on. I told you of the welcome we found at Casterly Rock.\\n\\n\\\"What I did not tell you was that my mother waited as long as was decent, and then broached your father about our purpose. Years later, on her deathbed, she told me that Lord Tywin had refused us brusquely. His daughter was meant for Prince Rhaegar, he informed her. And when she asked for Jaime, to espouse Elia, he offered her you instead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which offer she took for an outrage.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It was. Even you can see that, surely?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, surely.\\\" It all goes back and back, Tyrion thought, to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance on in our steads. \\\"Well, Prince Rhaegar married Elia of Dorne, not Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock. So it would seem your mother won that tilt.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"She thought so,\\\" Prince Oberyn agreed, \\\"but your father is not a man to forget such slights. He taught that lesson to Lord and Lady Tarbeck once, and to the Reynes of Castamere. And at King's Landing, he taught it to my sister. My helm, Dagos.\\\" Manwoody handed it to him; a high golden helm with a copper disk mounted on the brow, the sun of Dorne. The visor had been removed, Tyrion saw. \\\"Elia and her children have waited long for justice.\\\" Prince Oberyn pulled on soft red leather gloves, and took up his spear again. \\\"But this day they shall have it.\\\"\\n\\nThe outer ward had been chosen for the combat. Tyrion had to skip and run to keep up with Prince Oberyn's long strides. The snake is eager, he thought. Let us hope he is venomous as well. The day was grey and windy. The sun was struggling to breakthrough the clouds, but Tyrion could no more have said who was going to win that fight than the one on which his life depended.\\n\\nIt looked as though a thousand people had come to see if he would live or die. They lined the castle wallwalks and elbowed one another on the steps of keeps and towers. They watched from the stable doors, from windows and bridges, from balconies and roofs. And the yard was packed with them, so many that the gold cloaks and the knights of the Kingsguard had to shove them back to make enough room for the fight. Some had dragged out chairs to watch more comfortably, while others perched on barrels. We should have done this in the Dragonpit, Tyrion thought sourly. We could have charged a penny ahead and paid for Joffrey's wedding and funeral both. Some of the onlookers even had small children sitting on their shoulders, to get a better view. They shouted and pointed at the sight of Tyrion.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Cersei seemed half a child herself beside Ser Gregor.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"In his armor, the Mountain looked bigger than any man had any right to be. Beneath along yellow surcoat bearing the three black dogs of Clegane, he wore heavy plate over chainmail, dull grey steel dinted and scarred in battle. Beneath that would be boiled leather and a layer of quilting. A flat-topped greathelm was bolted to his gorget, with breaths around the mouth and nose and a narrow slit for vision. The crest atop it was a stone fist.\\n\\nIf Ser Gregor was suffering from wounds, Tyrion could see no sign of it from across the yard. He looks as though he was chiseled out of rock, standing there. His greatsword was planted in the ground before him, six feet of scarred metal. Ser Gregor's huge hands, clad in gauntlets of lobstered steel, clasped the crosshilt to either side of the grip. Even Prince Oberyn's paramour paled at the sight of him. \\\"You are going to fight that?\\\" Ellaria Sand said in a hushed voice.\\n\\n\\\"I am going to kill that,\\\" her lover replied carelessly.\\n\\nTyrion had his own doubts, now that they stood on the brink. When he looked at Prince Oberyn, he found himself wishing he had Bronn defending him... or even better, Jaime. The Red Viper was lightly armored; greaves, vambraces, gorget, spaulder, steel codpiece. Elsewise Oberyn was clad in supple leather and flowing silks. Over his byrnie he wore his scales of gleaming copper, but mail and scale together would not give him a quarter the protection of Gregor's heavy plate. With its visor removed, the prince's helm was effectively no better than a half-helm, lacking even a nasal. His round steel shield was brightly polished, and showed the sun-and-spear in red gold, yellow gold, white gold, and copper.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Dance around him until he's so tired he can hardly lift his arm, then put him on his back. The Red Viper seemed to have the same notion as Bronn. But the sellsword had been blunt about the risks of such tactics. I hope to seven hells that you know what you are doing, snake.\\n\\nA platform had been erected beside the Tower of the Hand, halfway between the two champions. That was where Lord Tywin sat with his brother Ser Kevan. King Tommen was not in evidence; for that, at least, Tyrion was grateful.\\n\\nLord Tywin glanced briefly at his dwarf son, then lifted his hand. A dozen trumpeters blew a fanfare to quiet the crowd. The High Septon shuffled forward in his tall crystal crown, and prayed that the Father Above would help them in this judgment, and that the Warrior would lend his strength to the arm of the man whose cause was just. That would be me, Tyrion almost shouted, but they would only laugh, and he was sick unto death of laughter.\\n\\nSer Osmund Kettleblack brought Clegane his shield, a massive thing of heavy oak rimmed in black iron. As the Mountain slid his left arm through the straps, Tyrion saw that the hounds of Clegane had been painted over. This morning Ser Gregor bore the seven-pointed star the Andals had brought to Westeros when they crossed the narrow sea to overwhelm the First Men and their gods. Very pious of you, Cersei, but I doubt the gods will be impressed.\\n\\nThere were fifty yards between them. Prince Oberyn advanced quickly, Ser Gregor more ominously. The ground does not shake when he walks, Tyrion told himself. That is only my heart fluttering. When the two men were ten yards apart, the Red Viper stopped and called out, \\\"Have they told you who I am?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ser Gregor grunted through his breaths. \\\"Some dead man.\\\" He came on, inexorable.\\n\\nThe Dornishman slid sideways. \\\"I am Oberyn Martell, a prince of Dorne,\\\" he said, as the Mountain turned to keep him insight. \\\"Princess Elia was my sister.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who?\\\" asked Gregor Clegane.\\n\\nOberyn's long spear jabbed, but Ser Gregor took the point on his shield, shoved it aside, and bulled back at the prince, his great sword flashing. The Dornishman spun away untouched. The spear darted forward. Clegane slashed at it, Martell snapped it back, then thrust again. Metal screamed on metal as the spearhead slid off the Mountain's chest, slicing through the surcoat and leaving along bright scratch on the steel beneath. \\\"Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne,\\\" the Red Viper hissed. \\\"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\\\"\\n\\nSer Gregor grunted. He made a ponderous charge to hack at the Dornishman's head. Prince Oberyn avoided him easily. \\\"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did you come to talk or to fight?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I came to hear you confess.\\\" The Red Viper landed a quick thrust on the Mountain's belly, to no effect. Gregor cut at him, and missed. The long spear lanced in above his sword. Like a serpent's tongue it flickered in and out, feinting low and landing high, jabbing at groin, shield, eyes. The Mountain makes fora big target, at the least, Tyrion thought. Prince Oberyn could scarcely miss, though none of his blows was penetrating Ser Gregor's heavy plate. The Dornishman kept circling, jabbing, then darting back again, forcing the bigger man to turn and turn again. Clegane is losing sight of him. The Mountain's helm had a narrow eyeslit, severely limiting his vision. Oberyn was making good use of that, and the length of his spear, and his quickness.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It went on that way for what seemed along time. Back and forth they moved across the yard, and round and round in spirals, Ser Gregor slashing at the air while Oberyn's spear struck at arm, and leg, twice at his temple. Gregor's big wooden shield took its share of hits as well, until a dog's head peeped out from under the star, and elsewhere the raw oak showed through. Clegane would grunt from time to time, and once Tyrion heard him mutter a curse, but otherwise he fought in a sullen silence.\\n\\nNot Oberyn Martell. \\\"You raped her,\\\" he called, feinting. \\\"You murdered her,\\\" he said, dodging a looping cut from Gregor's greatsword. \\\"You killed her children,\\\" he shouted, slamming the spearpoint into the giant's throat, only to have it glance off the thick steel gorget with a screech.\\n\\n\\\"Oberyn is toying with him,\\\" said Ellaria Sand.\\n\\nThat is fool's play, thought Tyrion. \\\"The Mountain is too bloody big to be any man's toy.\\\"\\n\\nAll around the yard, the throng of spectators was creeping in toward the two combatants, edging forward inch by inch to get a better view. The Kingsguard tried to keep them back, shoving at the gawkers forcefully with their big white shields, but there were hundreds of gawkers and only six of the men in white armor.\\n\\n\\\"You raped her.\\\" Prince Oberyn parried a savage cut with his spearhead. \\\"You murdered her.\\\" He sent the spearpoint at Clegane's eyes, so fast the huge man flinched back. \\\"You killed her children.\\\" The spear flickered sideways and down, scraping against the Mountain's breastplate. \\\"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\\\" The spear was two feet longer than Ser Gregor's sword, more than enough to keep him at an awkward distance. He hacked at the shaft whenever Oberyn lunged at him, trying to lop off the spearhead, but he might as well have been trying to hack the wings off a fly. \\\"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\\\" Gregor tried to bull rush, but Oberyn skipped aside and circled round his back. \\\"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Be quiet.\\\" Ser Gregor seemed to be moving a little slower, and his greatsword no longer rose quite so high as it had when the contest began. \\\"Shut your bloody mouth.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You raped her,\\\" the prince said, moving to the right.\\n\\n\\\"Enough!\\\" Ser Gregor took two long strides and brought his sword down at Oberyn's head, but the Dornishman backstepped once more. \\\"You murdered her,\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"SHUT UP!\\\" Gregor charged headlong, right at the point of the spear, which slammed into his right breast then slid aside with a hideous steel shriek. Suddenly the Mountain was close enough to strike, his huge sword flashing in a steel blur. The crowd was screaming as well. Oberyn slipped the first blow and let goof the spear, useless now that Ser Gregor was inside it. The second cut the Dornishman caught on his shield. Metal met metal with an ear-splitting clang, sending the Red Viper reeling. Ser Gregor followed, bellowing. He doesn't use words, he just roars like an animal, Tyrion thought. Oberyn's retreat became a headlong backward flight mere inches ahead of the greatsword as it slashed at his chest, his arms, his head.\\n\\nThe stable was behind him. Spectators screamed and shoved at each other to get out of the way. One stumbled into Oberyn's back. Ser Gregor hacked down with all his savage strength. The Red Viper threw himself sideways, rolling. The luckless stableboy behind him was not so quick. As his arm rose to protect his face, Gregor's sword took it off between elbow and shoulder. \\\"Shut UP!\\\" the Mountain howled at the stableboy's scream, and this time he swung the blade sideways, sending the top half of the lad's head across the yard in a spray of blood and brains. Hundreds of spectators suddenly seemed to lose all interest in the guilt or innocence of Tyrion Lannister, judging by the way they pushed and shoved at each other to escape the yard.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But the Red Viper of Dorne was back on his feet, his long spear in hand. \\\"Elia,\\\" he called at Ser Gregor. \\\"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children. Now say her name.\\\"\\n\\nThe Mountain whirled. Helm, shield, sword, surcoat; he was spattered with gore from head to heels. \\\"You talk too much,\\\" he grumbled. \\\"You make my head hurt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I will hear you say it. She was Elia of Dorne.\\\"\\n\\nThe Mountain snorted contemptuously, and came on... and in that moment, the sun broke through the low clouds that had hidden the sky since dawn.\\n\\nThe sun of Dorne, Tyrion told himself, but it was Gregor Clegane who moved first to put the sun at his back. This is a dim and brutal man, but he has a warrior's instincts.\\n\\nThe Red Viper crouched, squinting, and sent his spear darting forward again. Ser Gregor hacked at it, but the thrust had only been a feint. Off balance, he stumbled forward a step.\\n\\nPrince Oberyn tilted his dinted metal shield. A shaft of sunlight blazed blindingly off polished gold and copper, into the narrow slit of his foe's helm. Clegane lifted his own shield against the glare. Prince Oberyn's spear flashed like lightning and found the gap in the heavy plate, the joint under the arm. The point punched through mail and boiled leather. Gregor gave a choked grunt as the Dornishman twisted his spear and yanked it free.\\\"Elia. Say it! Elia of Dorne!\\\" He was circling, spear poised for another thrust. \\\"Say it!\\\"\\n\\nTyrion had his own prayer. Fall down and die, was how it went. Damn you, fall down and die! The blood trickling from the Mountain's armpit was his own now, and he must be bleeding even more heavily inside the breastplate. When he tried to take a step, one knee buckled. Tyrion thought he was going down.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Prince Oberyn had circled behind him. \\\"ELIA OF DORNE!\\\" he shouted. Ser Gregor started to turn, but too slow and too late. The spearhead went through the back of the knee this time, through the layers of chain and leather between the plates on thigh and calf. The Mountain reeled, swayed, then collapsed face first on the ground. His huge sword went flying from his hand. Slowly, ponderously, he rolled onto his back.\\n\\nThe Dornishman flung away his ruined shield, grasped the spear in both hands, and sauntered away. Behind him the Mountain let out a groan, and pushed himself onto an elbow. Oberyn whirled cat-quick, and ran at his fallen foe. \\\"EEEEELLLLLLIIIIIAAAAA!\\\" he screamed, as he drove the spear down with the whole weight of his body behind it. The crack of the ashwood shaft snapping was almost as sweet a sound as Cersei's wail of fury, and for an instant Prince Oberyn had wings. The snake has vaulted over the Mountain. Four feet of broken spear jutted from Clegane's belly as Prince Oberyn rolled, rose, and dusted himself off. He tossed aside the splintered spear and claimed his foe's greatsword. \\\"If you die before you say her name, ser, I will hunt you through all seven hells,\\\" he promised.\\n\\nSer Gregor tried to rise. The broken spear had gone through him, and was pinning him to the ground. He wrapped both hands about the shaft, grunting, but could not pull it out. Beneath him was a spreading pool of red. \\\"I am feeling more innocent by the instant,\\\" Tyrion told Ellaria Sand beside him.\\n\\nPrince Oberyn moved closer. \\\"Say the name!\\\" He put afoot on the Mountain's chest and raised the greatsword with both hands. Whether he intended to hack off Gregor's head or shove the point through his eyeslit was something Tyrion would never know.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Clegane's hand shot up and grabbed the Dornishman behind the knee. The Red Viper brought down the greatsword in a wild slash, but he was off-balance, and the edge did no more than put another dentin the Mountain's vambrace. Then the sword was forgotten as Gregor's hand tightened and twisted, yanking the Dornishman down on top of him. They wrestled in the dust and blood, the broken spear wobbling back and forth. Tyrion saw with horror that the Mountain had wrapped one huge arm around the prince, drawing him tight against his chest, like a lover.\\n\\n\\\"Elia of Dorne,\\\" they all heard Ser Gregor say, when they were close enough to kiss. His deep voice boomed within the helm. \\\"I killed her screaming whelp.\\\" He thrust his freehand into Oberyn's unprotected face, pushing steel fingers into his eyes. \\\"Then I raped her.\\\" Clegane slammed his fist into the Dornishman's mouth, making splinters of his teeth. \\\"Then I smashed her fucking head in. Like this.\\\" Ashe drew back his huge fist, the blood on his gauntlet seemed to smoke in the cold dawn air. There was a sickening crunch. Ellaria Sand wailed in terror, and Tyrion's breakfast came boiling backup. He found himself on his knees retching bacon and sausage and applecakes, and that double helping of fried eggs cooked up with onions and fiery Dornish peppers.\\n\\nHe never heard his father speak the words that condemned him. Perhaps no words were necessary. I put my life in the Red Viper's hands, and he dropped it. When he remembered, too late, that snakes had no hands, Tyrion began to laugh hysterically.\\n\\nHe was halfway down the serpentine steps before he realized that the gold cloaks were not taking him back to his tower room. \\\"I've been consigned to the black cells,\\\" he said. They did not bother to answer. Why waste your breath on the dead?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"DAENERYS\\n\\nDany broke her fast under the persimmon tree that grew in the terrace garden, watching her dragons chase each other about the apex of the Great Pyramid where the huge bronze harpy once stood. Meereen had a score of lesser pyramids, but none stood even half as tall. From here she could seethe whole city: the narrow twisty alleys and wide brick streets, the temples and granaries, hovels and palaces, brothels and baths, gardens and fountains, the great red circles of the fighting pits. And beyond the walls was the pewter sea, the winding Skahazadhan, the dry brown hills, burnt orchards, and blackened fields. Up herein her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world.\\n\\nDo all gods feel so lonely? Some must, surely. Missandei had told her of the Lord of Harmony, worshiped by the Peaceful People of Naath; he was the only true god, her little scribe said, the god who always was and always would be, who made the moon and stars and earth, and all the creatures that dwelt upon them. Poor Lord of Harmony. Dany pitied him. It must be terrible to be alone for all time, attended by hordes of butterfly women you could make or unmake at a word. Westeros had seven gods at least, though Viserys had told her that some septons said the seven were only aspects of a single god, seven facets of a single crystal. That was just confusing. The red priests believed in two gods, she had heard, but two who were eternally at war. Dany liked that even less. She would not want to be eternally at war.\\n\\nMissandei served her duck eggs and dog sausage, and half a cup of sweetened wine mixed with the juice of a lime. The honey drew flies, but a scented candle drove them off. The flies were not so troublesome up here as they were in the rest of her city, she had found, something else she liked about the pyramid. \\\"I must remember to do something about the flies,\\\" Dany said. \\\"Are there many flies on Naath, Missandei?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"On Naath there are butterflies,\\\" the scribe responded in the Common Tongue.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"More wine?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. I must hold court soon.\\\" Dany had grown very fond of Missandei. The little scribe with the big golden eyes was wise beyond her years. She is brave as well. She had to be, to survive the life she's lived. One day she hoped to see this fabled isle of Naath. Missandei said the Peaceful People made music instead of war. They did not kill, not even animals; they ate only fruit and never flesh. The butterfly spirits sacred to their Lord of Harmony protected their isle against those who would do them harm. Many conquerors had sailed on Naath to blood their swords, only to sicken and die. The butterflies do not help them when the slave ships come raiding, though. \\\"I am going to take you home one day, Missandei,\\\" Dany promised. If I had made the same promise to Jorah, would he still have sold me? \\\"I swear it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This one is content to stay with you, Your Grace. Naath will be there, always. You are good to this-tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And you tome.\\\" Dany took the girl by the hand. \\\"Come help me dress.\\\"\\n\\nJhiqui helped Missandei bathe her while Irri was laying out her clothes. Today she wore a robe of purple samite and a silver sash, and on her head the three-headed dragon crown the Tourmaline Brotherhood had given her in Qarth. Her slippers were silver as well, with heels so high that she was always half afraid she was about to topple over. When she was dressed, Missandei brought her a polished silver glass so she could see how she looked. Dany stared at herself in silence. Is this the face of a conqueror? So far as she could tell, she still looked like a little girl.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"No one was calling her Daenerys the Conqueror yet, but perhaps they would. Aegon the Conqueror had won Westeros with three dragons, but she had taken Meereen with sewer rats and a wooden cock, in less than a day. Poor Groleo. He still grieved for his ship, she knew. If a war galley could ram another ship, why not agate? That had been her thought when she commanded the captains to drive their ships ashore. Their masts had become her battering rams, and swarms of freedmen had torn their hulls apart to build mantlets, turtles, catapults, and ladders. The sellswords had given each ram a bawdy name, and it had been the mainmast of Meraxes-formerly Joso's Prank-that had broken the eastern gate. Joso's Cock, they called it. The fighting had raged bitter and bloody for most of a day and well into the night before the wood began to splinter and Meraxes'iron figurehead, a laughing jester's face, came crashing through.\\n\\nDany had wanted to lead the attack herself, but to a man her captains said that would be madness, and her captains never agreed on anything. Instead she remained in the rear, sitting atop her silver in along shirt of mail. She heard the city fall from half a league away, though, when the defenders' shouts of defiance changed to cries of fear. Her dragons had roared as one in that moment, filling the night with flame. The slaves are rising, she knew at once. My sewer rats have gnawed off their chains.\\n\\nWhen the last resistance had been crushed by the Unsullied and the sack had run its course, Dany entered her city. The dead were heaped so high before the broken gate that it took her freedmen near an hour to make a path for her silver. Joso's Cock and the great wooden turtle that had protected it, covered with horsehides, lay abandoned within. She rode past burned buildings and broken windows, through brick streets where the gutters were choked with the stiff and swollen dead. Cheering slaves lifted bloodstained hands to her as she went by, and called her'Mother.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"In the plaza before the Great Pyramid, the Meereenese huddled forlorn.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Great Masters had looked anything but great in the morning light. Stripped of their jewels and their fringed tokars, they were contemptible; a herd of old men with shriveled balls and spotted skin and young men with ridiculous hair. Their women were either soft and fleshy or as dry as old sticks, their face paint streaked by tears. \\\"I want your leaders,\\\" Dany told them. \\\"Give them up, and the rest of you shall be spared.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How many?\\\" one old woman had asked, sobbing. \\\"How many must you have to spare us?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One hundred and sixty-three,\\\" she answered.\\n\\nShe had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon. But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood...\\n\\nDany put the glass aside, frowning. It was just. It was. I did it for the children.\\n\\nHer audience chamber was on the level below, an echoing high-ceilinged room with walls of purple marble. It was a chilly place for all its grandeur. There had been a throne there, a fantastic thing of carved and gilded wood in the shape of a savage harpy. She had taken one long look and commanded it be broken up for firewood. \\\"I will not sit in the harpy's lap,\\\" she told them. Instead she sat upon a simple ebony bench. It served, though she had heard the Meereenese muttering that it did not befit a queen.\\n\\nHer bloodriders were waiting for her. Silver bells tinkled in their oiled braids, and they wore the gold and jewels of dead men. Meereen had been rich beyond imagining. Even her sellswords seemed sated, at least for now. Across the room, Grey Worm wore the plain uniform of the Unsullied, his spiked bronze cap beneath one arm. These at least she could rely on, or so she hoped... and Brown Ben Plumm as well, solid Ben with his grey-white hair and weathered face, so beloved of her dragons. And Daario beside him, glittering in gold. Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei... as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters.\\n\\n\\\"Was the night as quiet as it seemed?\\\" Dany asked.\\n\\n\\\"It seems it was, Your Grace,\\\" said Brown Ben Plumm.\\n\\nShe was pleased. Meereen had been sacked savagely, as new-fallen cities always were, but Dany was determined that should end now that the city washers. She had decreed that murderers were to be hanged, that looters were to lose a hand, and rapists their manhood. Eight killers swung from the walls, and the Unsullied had filled a bushel basket with bloody hands and soft red worms, but Meereen was calm again. But for how long?\\n\\nA fly buzzed her head. Dany waved it off, irritated, but it returned almost at once. \\\"There are too many flies in this city.\\\"\\n\\nBen Plumm gave a bark of laughter. \\\"There were flies in my ale this morning. I swallowed one of them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Flies are the dead man's revenge.\\\" Daario smiled, and stroked the center prong of his beard. \\\"Corpses breed maggots, and maggots breed flies.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We will rid ourselves of the corpses, then. Starting with those in the plaza below. Grey Worm, will you see to it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The queen commands, these ones obey.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Best bring sacks as well as shovels, Worm,\\\" Brown Ben counseled. \\\"Well past ripe, those ones. Falling off those poles in bits and pieces, and crawling with...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He knows. So do I.\\\" Dany remembered the horror she had felt when she had seen the Plaza of Punishment in Astapor. I made a horror just as great, but surely they deserved it. Harsh justice is still justice.\\n\\n\\\"Your Grace,\\\" said Missandei, \\\"Ghiscari inter their honored dead in crypts below their manses. If you would boil the bones clean and return them to their kin, it would be a kindness.\\\"\\n\\nThe widows will curse me all the same. \\\"Let it be done.\\\" Dany beckoned to Daario. \\\"How many seek audience this morning?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Two have presented themselves to bask in your radiance.\\\"\\n\\nDaario had plundered himself a whole new wardrobe in Meereen, and to match it he had redyed his trident beard and curly hair a deep rich purple. It made his eyes look almost purple too, as if he were some lost Valyrian. \\\"They arrived in the night on the Indigo Star, a trading galley out of Qarth.\\\"\\n\\nA slaver, you mean. Dany frowned. \\\"Who are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Star's master and one who claims to speak for Astapor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I will seethe envoy first.\\\"\\n\\nHe proved to be a pale ferret-faced man with ropes of pearls and spun gold hanging heavy about his neck. \\\"Your Worship!\\\" he cried. \\\"My name is Ghael. I bring greetings to the Mother of Dragons from King Cleon of Astapor, Cleon the Great.\\\"\\n\\nDany stiffened. \\\"I left a council to rule Astapor. A healer, a scholar, and a priest.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your Worship, those sly rogues betrayed your trust. It was revealed that they were scheming to restore the Good Masters to power and the people to chains. Great Cleon exposed their plots and hacked their heads off with a cleaver, and the grateful folk of Astapor have crowned him for his valor.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Noble Ghael,\\\" said Missandei, in the dialect of Astapor, \\\"is this the same Cleon once owned by Grazdan mo Ullhor?\\\"\\n\\nHer voice was guileless, yet the question plainly made the envoy anxious. \\\"The same,\\\" he admitted. \\\"A great man.\\\"\\n\\nMissandei leaned close to Dany. \\\"He was a butcher in Grazdan's kitchen,\\\" the girl whispered in her ear. \\\"It was said he could slaughter a pig faster than any man in Astapor.\\\"\\n\\nI have given Astapor a butcher king. Dany felt ill, but she knew she must not let the envoy see it. \\\"I will pray that King Cleon rules well and wisely. What would he have of me?\\\"\\n\\nGhael rubbed his mouth. \\\"Perhaps we should speak more privily, Your Grace?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have no secrets from my captains and commanders.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you wish. Great Cleon bids me declare his devotion to the Mother of Dragons. Your enemies are his enemies, he says, and chief among them are the Wise Masters of Yunkai. He proposes a pact between Astapor and Meereen, against the Yunkai'i.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I swore no harm would come to Yunkai if they released their slaves,\\\" said Dany.\\n\\n\\\"These Yunkish dogs cannot be trusted, Your Worship. Even now they plot against you. New levies have been raised and can be seen drilling outside the city walls, warships are being built, envoys have been sent to New Ghis and Volantis in the west, to make alliances and hire sellswords. They have even dispatched riders to Vaes Dothrak to bring a khalasar down upon you. Great Cleon bid me tell you not to be afraid. Astapor remembers. Astapor will not forsake you. To prove his faith, Great Cleon offers to seal your alliance with a marriage.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"A marriage?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tome?\\\"\\n\\nGhael smiled. His teeth were brown and rotten. \\\"Great Cleon will give you many strong sons.\\\"\\n\\nDany found herself bereft of words, but little Missandei came to her rescue. \\\"Did his first wife give him sons?\\\"\\n\\nThe envoy looked at her unhappily. \\\"Great Cleon has three daughters by his first wife. Two of his newer wives are with child. But he means to put all of them aside if the Mother of Dragons will consent towed him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How noble of him,\\\" said Dany. \\\"I will consider all you've said, my lord.\\\" She gave orders that Ghael be given chambers for the night, somewhere lower in the pyramid.\\n\\nAll my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror. When word of what had befallen Astapor reached the streets, as it surely would, tens of thousands of newly freed Meereenese slaves would doubtless decide to follow her when she went west, for fear of what awaited them if they stayed... yet it might well be that worse would await them on the march. Even if she emptied every granary in the city and left Meereen to starve, how could she feed so many? The way before her was fraught with hardship, bloodshed, and danger. Ser Jorah had warned her of that. He'd warned her of so many things... he'd... No, I will not think of Jorah Mormont. Let him keep a little longer. \\\"I shall see this trader captain,\\\" she announced. Perhaps he would have some better tidings.\\n\\nThat proved to be a forlorn hope. The master of the Indigo Star was Qartheen, so he wept copiously when asked about Astapor. \\\"The city bleeds. Dead men rot unburied in the streets, each pyramid is an armed camp, and the markets have neither food nor slaves for sale. And the poor children! King Cleaver's thugs have seized every highborn boy in Astapor to make new Unsullied for the trade, though it will be years before they are trained.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The thing that surprised Dany most was how unsurprised she was. She found herself remembering Eroeh, the Lhazarene girl she had once tried to protect, and what had happened to her. It will be the same in Meereen once I march, she thought. The slaves from the fighting pits, bred and trained to slaughter, were already proving themselves unruly and quarrelsome. They seemed to think they owned the city now, and every man and woman in it. Two of them had been among the eight she'd hanged. There is no more I can do, she told herself. \\\"What do you want of me, Captain?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Slaves,\\\" he said. \\\"My holds are full to bursting with ivory, ambergris, zorse hides, and other fine goods. I would trade them here for slaves, to sell in Lys and Volantis.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We have no slaves for sale,\\\" said Dany.\\n\\n\\\"My queen?\\\" Daario stepped forward. \\\"The riverside is full of Meereenese, begging leave to be allowed to sell themselves to this Qartheen. They are thicker than the flies.\\\"\\n\\nDany was shocked. \\\"They want to be slaves?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The ones who come are well spoken and gently born, sweet queen. Such slaves are prized. In the Free Cities they will be tutors, scribes, bed slaves, even healers and priests. They will sleep in soft beds, eat rich foods, and dwell in manses. Here they have lost all, and live in fear and squalor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see.\\\" Perhaps it was not so shocking, if these tales of Astapor were true. Dany thought a moment. \\\"Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman.\\\" She raised a hand. \\\"But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"In Astapor the city took a tenth part of the price, each time a slave changed hands,\\\" Missandei told her.\\n\\n\\\"We'll do the same,\\\" Dany decided. Wars were won with gold as much as swords. \\\"A tenth part. In gold or silver coin, or ivory. Meereen has no need of saffron, cloves, or zorse hides.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It shall be done as you command, glorious queen,\\\" said Daario. \\\"My Stormcrows will collect your tenth.\\\"\\n\\nIf the Stormcrows saw to the collections at least half the gold would somehow go astray, Dany knew. But the Second Sons were just as bad, and the Unsullied were as unlettered as they were incorruptible. \\\"Records must be kept,\\\" she said. \\\"Seek among the freedmen for men who can read, write, and do sums.\\\"\\n\\nHis business done, the captain of the Indigo Star bowed and took his leave. Dany shifted uncomfortably on the ebony bench. She dreaded what must come next, yet she knew she had put it off too long already. Yunkai and Astapor, threats of war, marriage proposals, the march west looming overall... I need my knights. I need their swords, and I need their counsel. Yet the thought of seeing Jorah Mormont again made her feel as if she'd swallowed a spoonful of flies; angry, agitated, sick. She could almost feel them buzzing round her belly. I am the blood of the dragon. I must be strong. I must have fire in my eyes when I face them, not tears. \\\"Tell Belwas to bring my knights,\\\" Dany commanded, before she could change her mind. \\\"My good knights.\\\"\\n\\nStrong Belwas was puffing from the climb when he marched them through the doors, one meaty hand wrapped tight around each man's arm. Ser Barristan walked with his head held high, but Ser Jorah stared at the marble floor as he approached. The one is proud, the other guilty. The old man had shaved off his white beard. He looked ten years younger without it. But her balding bear looked older than he had. They halted before the bench. Strong Belwas stepped back and stood with his arms crossed across his scarred chest. Ser Jorah cleared his throat. \\\"Khaleesi...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"She had missed his voice so much, but she had to be stern.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Be quiet. I will tell you when to speak.\\\" She stood. \\\"When I sent you down into the sewers, part of me hoped I'd seen the last of you. It seemed a fitting end for liars, to drown in slavers\\\" filth. I thought the gods would deal with you, but instead you returned tome. My gallant knights of Westeros, an informer and a turncloak. My brother would have hanged you both.\\\" Viserys would have, anyway. She did not know what Rhaegar would have done. \\\"I will admit you helped win me this city...\\\"\\n\\nSer Jorah's mouth tightened. \\\"We won you this city. We sewer rats.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Be quiet,\\\" she said again... though there was truth to what he said. While Joso's Cock and the other rams were battering the city gates and her archers were firing flights of flaming arrows over the walls, Dany had sent two hundred men along the river undercover of darkness to fire the hulks in the harbor. But that was only to hide their true purpose. As the flaming ships drew the eyes of the defenders on the walls, a few half-mad swimmers found the sewer mouths and pried loose a rusted iron grating. Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Strong Belwas, and twenty brave fools slipped beneath the brown water and up the brick tunnel, a mixed force of sellswords, Unsullied, and freedmen. Dany had told them to choose only men who had no families... and preferably no sense of smell.\\n\\nThey had been lucky as well as brave. It had been a moon's turn since the last good rain, and the sewers were only thigh-high. The oilcloth they'd wrapped around their torches kept them dry, so they had light. A few of the freedmen were frightened of the huge rats until Strong Belwas caught one and bit it in two. One man was killed by a great pale lizard that reared up out of the dark water to drag him off by the leg, but when next ripples were spied Ser Jorah butchered the beast with his blade. They took some wrong turnings, but once they found the surface Strong Belwas led them to the nearest fighting pit, where they surprised a few guards and struck the chains off the slaves. Within an hour, half the fighting slaves in Meereen had risen.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You helped win this city,\\\" she repeated stubbornly. \\\"And you have served me well in the past. Ser Barristan saved me from the Titan's Bastard, and from the Sorrowful Man in Qarth. Ser Jorah saved me from the poisoner in Vaes Dothrak, and again from Drogo's bloodriders after my sun-and-stars had died.\\\" So many people wanted her dead, sometimes she lost count. \\\"And yet you lied, deceived me, betrayed me.\\\" She turned to Ser Barristan. \\\"You protected my father for many years, fought beside my brother on the Trident, but you abandoned Viserys in his exile and bent your knee to the Usurper instead. Why? And tell it true.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Some truths are hard to hear. Robert was a... a good knight... chivalrous, brave... he spared my life, and the lives of many others... Prince Viserys was only a boy, it would have been years before he was fit to rule, and... forgive me, my queen, but you asked for truth... even as a child, your brother Viserys oft seemed to be his father's son, in ways that Rhaegar never did.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"His father's son?\\\" Dany frowned. \\\"What does that mean?\\\"\\n\\nThe old knight did not blink. \\\"Your father is called \\\"the Mad King\\\" in Westeros. Has no one ever told you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Viserys did.\\\" The Mad King. \\\"The Usurper called him that, the Usurper and his dogs.\\\" The Mad King. \\\"It was a lie.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why ask for truth,\\\" Ser Barristan said softly, \\\"if you close your ears to it?\\\" He hesitated, then continued. \\\"I told you before that I used a false name so the Lannisters would not know that I'd joined you. That was less than half of it, Your Grace. The truth is, I wanted to watch you fora time before pledging you my sword. To make certain that you were not...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"... my father's daughter?\\\" If she was not her father's daughter, who was she?\\n\\n\\\"... mad,\\\" he finished. \\\"But I see no taint in you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Taint?\\\" Dany bristled.\\n\\n\\\"I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time anew Targaryen is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.\\\"\\n\\nJaehaerys. This old man knew my grandfather. The thought gave her pause. Most of what she knew of Westeros had come from her brother, and the rest from Ser Jorah. Ser Barristan would have forgotten more than the two of them had ever known. This man can tell me what I came from. \\\"So I am a coin in the hands of some god, is that what you are saying, ser?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Ser Barristan replied. \\\"You are the trueborn heir of Westeros. To the end of my days I shall remain your faithful knight, should you find me worthy to bear a sword again. If not, I am content to serve Strong Belwas as his squire.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What if I decide you're only worthy to be my fool?\\\" Dany asked scornfully. \\\"Or perhaps my cook?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I would be honored, Your Grace,\\\" Selmy said with quiet dignity. \\\"I can bake apples and boil beef as well as any man, and I've roasted many a duck over a campfire. I hope you like them greasy, with charred skin and bloody bones.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"That made her smile. \\\"I'd have to be mad to eat such fare. Ben Plumm, come give Ser Barristan your longsword.\\\"\\n\\nBut Whitebeard would not take it. \\\"I flung my sword at Joffrey's feet and have not touched one since. Only from the hand of my queen will I accept a sword again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you wish.\\\" Dany took the sword from Brown Ben and offered it hilt first. The old man took it reverently. \\\"Now kneel,\\\" she told him, \\\"and swear it to my service.\\\"\\n\\nHe went to one knee and lay the blade before her as he said the words. Dany scarcely heard them. He was the easy one, she thought. The other will be harder. When Ser Barristan was done, she turned to Jorah Mormont. \\\"And now you, ser. Tell me true.\\\"\\n\\nThe big man's neck was red; whether from anger or shame she did not know. \\\"I have tried to tell you true, half a hundred times. I told you Arstan was more than he seemed. I warned you that Xaro and Pyat Pree were not to be trusted. I warned you-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You warned me against everyone except yourself.\\\" His insolence angered her. He should be humbler. He should beg for my forgiveness. \\\"Trust no one but Jorah Mormont, you said... and all the time you were the Spider's creature!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am no man's creature. I took the eunuch's gold, yes. I learned some ciphers and wrote some letters, but that was all-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All? You spied on me and sold me to my enemies!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fora time.\\\" He said it grudgingly. \\\"I stopped.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"When?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When did you stop?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I made one report from Qarth, but-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"From Qarth?\\\" Dany had been hoping it had ended much earlier. \\\"What did you write from Quarth? That you were my man now, that you wanted no more of their schemes?\\\" Ser Jorah could not meet her eyes. \\\"When Khal Drogo died, you asked me to go with you to Yi Ti and the Jade Sea. Was that your wish or Robert's?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That was to protect you,\\\" he insisted. \\\"To keep you away from them. I knew what snakes they were...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Snakes? And what are you, ser?\\\" Something unspeakable occurred to her. \\\"You told them I was carrying Drogo's child...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Khaleesi...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do not think to deny it, ser,\\\" Ser Barristan said sharply. \\\"I was there when the eunuch told the council, and Robert decreed that Her Grace and her child must die. You were the source, ser. There was even talk that you might do the deed, fora pardon.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A lie.\\\" Ser Jorah's face darkened. \\\"I would never... Daenerys, it was me who stopped you from drinking the wine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. And how was it you knew the wine was poisoned?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I... I but suspected... the caravan brought a letter from Varys, he warned me there would be attempts. He wanted you watched, yes, but not harmed.\\\" He went to his knees. \\\"If I had not told them someone else would have. You know that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know you betrayed me.\\\" She touched her belly, where her son Rhaego had perished. \\\"I know a poisoner tried to kill my son, because of you. That's what I know.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No... no.\\\" He shook his head. \\\"I never meant... forgive me. You have to forgive me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Have to?\\\" It was too late. He should have begun by begging forgiveness. She could not pardon him as she'd intended. She had dragged the wineseller behind her horse until there was nothing left of him. Didn't the man who brought him deserve the same? This is Jorah, my fierce bear, the right arm that never failed me. I would be dead without him, but...\\\"I can't forgive you,\\\" she said. \\\"I can't.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You forgave the old man...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He lied tome about his name. You sold my secrets to the men who killed my father and stole my brother's throne.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I protected you. I fought for you. Killed for you.\\\"\\n\\nKissed me, she thought, betrayed me.\\n\\n\\\"I went down into the sewers like a rat. For you.\\\"\\n\\nIt might have been kinder if you'd died there. Dany said nothing. There was nothing to say.\\n\\n\\\"Daenerys,\\\" he said, \\\"I have loved you.\\\"\\n\\nAnd there it was. Three treasons will you know. Once for blood and once for gold and once for love. \\\"The gods do nothing without a purpose, they say. You did not die in battle, so it must be they still have some use for you. But I don't. I will not have you near me. You are banished, ser. Go back to your masters in King's Landing and collect your pardon, if you can. Or to Astapor. No doubt the butcher king needs knights.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\" He reached for her. \\\"Daenerys, please, hear me...\\\"\\n\\nShe slapped his hand away. \\\"Do not ever presume to touch me again, or to speak my name. You have until dawn to collect your things and leave this city. If you're found in Meereen past break of day, I will have Strong Belwas twist your head off. I will. Believe that.\\\" She turned her back on him, her skirts swirling. I cannot bear to see his face. \\\"Remove this liar from my sight,\\\" she commanded. I must not weep. I must not. If I weep I will forgive him. Strong Belwas seized Ser Jorah by the arm and dragged him out. When Dany glanced back, the knight was walking as if drunk, stumbling and slow. She looked away until she heard the doors open and close. Then she sank back onto the ebony bench. He's gone, then. My father and my mother, my brothers, Ser Willem Darry, Drogo who was my sun-and-stars, his son who died inside me, and now Ser Jorah...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The queen has a good heart,\\\" Daario purred through his deep purple whiskers, \\\"but that one is more dangerous than all the Oznaks and Meros rolled up in one.\\\" His strong hands caressed the hilts of his matched blades, those wanton golden women. \\\"You need not even say the word, my radiance. Only give the tiniest nod, and your Daario shall fetch you back his ugly head.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Leave him be. The scales are balanced now. Let him go home.\\\" Dany pictured Jorah moving amongst old gnarled oaks and tall pines, past flowering thornbushes, grey stones bearded with moss, and little creeks running icy down steep hillsides. She saw him entering a hall built of huge logs, where dogs slept by the hearth and the smell of meat and mead hung thick in the smoky air. \\\"We are done for now,\\\" she told her captains.\\n\\nIt was all she could do not to run backup the wide marble stairs. Irri helped her slip from her court clothes and into more comfortable garb; baggy woolen breeches, a loose felted tunic, a painted Dothraki vest. \\\"You are trembling, Khaleesi,\\\" the girl said as she knelt to lace up Dany's sandals.\\n\\n\\\"I'm cold,\\\" Dany lied. \\\"Bring me the book I was reading last night.\\\" She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children's stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When her handmaid brought the book, Dany had no trouble finding the page where she had left off, but it was no good. She found herself reading the same passage half a dozen times. Ser Jorah gave me this book as a bride's gift, the day I wed Khal Drogo. But Daario is right, I shouldn't have banished him. I should have kept him, or I should have killed him. She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him.\\n\\nDany fled from the choice, out onto the terrace. She found Rhaegal asleep beside the pool, a green and bronze coil basking in the sun. Drogon was perched up atop the pyramid, in the place where the huge bronze harpy had stood before she had commanded it to be pulled down. He spread his wings and roared when he spied her. There was no sign of Viserion, but when she went to the parapet and scanned the horizon she saw pale wings in the far distance, sweeping above the river. He is hunting. They grow bolder everyday. Yet it still made her anxious when they flew too faraway. One day one of them may not return, she thought.\\n\\n\\\"Your Grace?\\\"\\n\\nShe turned to find Ser Barristan behind her. \\\"What more would you have of me, ser? I spared you, I took you into my service, now give me some peace.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Forgive me, Your Grace. It was only... now that you know who I am...\\\" The old man hesitated. \\\"A knight of the Kingsguard is in the king's presence day and night. For that reason, our vows require us to protect his secrets as we would his life. But your father's secrets by rights belong to you now, along with his throne, and... I thought perhaps you might have questions for me.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Questions? She had a hundred questions, a thousand, ten thousand. Why couldn't she think of one? \\\"Was my father truly mad?\\\" she blurted out. Why do I ask that? \\\"Viserys said this talk of madness was a ploy of the Usurper's...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Viserys was a child, and the queen sheltered him as much as she could. Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise... but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until...\\\"\\n\\nDany stopped him. \\\"Do I want to hear this now?\\\"\\n\\nSer Barristan considered a moment. \\\"Perhaps not. Not now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not now,\\\" she agreed. \\\"One day. One day you must tell me all. The good and the bad. There is some good to be said of my father, surely?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There is, Your Grace. Of him, and those who came before him. Your grandfather Jaehaerys and his brother, their father Aegon, your mother... and Rhaegar. Him most of all.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I wish I could have known him.\\\" Her voice was wistful.\\n\\n\\\"I wish he could have known you,\\\" the old knight said. \\\"When you are ready, I will tell you all.\\\"\\n\\nDany kissed him on the cheek and sent him on his way.\\n\\nThat night her handmaids brought her lamb, with a salad of raisins and carrots soaked in wine, and a hot flaky bread dripping with honey. She could eat none of it. Did Rhaegar ever grow so weary? she wondered. Did Aegon, after his conquest?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Later, when the time came for sleep, Dany took Irri into bed with her, for the first time since the ship. But even as she shuddered in release and wound her fingers through her handmaid's thick black hair, she pretended it was Drogo holding her... only somehow his face kept turning into Daario's. If I want Daario I need only say so. She lay with Irri's legs entangled in her own. His eyes looked almost purple today...\\n\\nDany's dreams were dark that night, and she woke three times from half-remembered nightmares. After the third time she was too restless to return to sleep. Moonlight streamed through the slanting windows, silvering the marble floors. A cool breeze was blowing through the open terrace doors. Irri slept soundly beside her, her lips slightly parted, one dark brown nipple peeping out above the sleeping silks. Fora moment Dany was tempted, but it was Drogo she wanted, or perhaps Daario. Not Irri. The maid was sweet and skillful, but all her kisses tasted of duty.\\n\\nShe rose, leaving Irri asleep in the moonlight. Jhiqui and Missandei slept in their own beds. Dany slipped on a robe and padded barefoot across the marble floor, out onto the terrace. The air was chilly, but she liked the feel of grass between her toes and the sound of the leaves whispering to one another. Wind ripples chased each other across the surface of the little bathing pool and made the moon's reflection dance and shimmer.\\n\\nShe leaned against a low brick parapet to look down upon the city. Meereen was sleeping too. Lost in dreams of kinder days, perhaps. Night covered the streets like a black blanket, hiding the corpses and the grey rats that came up from the sewers to feast on them, the swarms of stinging flies. Distant torches glimmered red and yellow where her sentries walked their rounds, and here and there she saw the faint glow of lanterns bobbing down an alley. Perhaps one was Ser Jorah, leading his horse slowly toward the gate. Farewell, old bear. Farewell, betrayer.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, khaleesi and queen, Mother of Dragons, slayer of warlocks, breaker of chains, and there was no one in the world that she could trust.\\n\\n\\\"Your Grace?\\\" Missandei stood at her elbow wrapped in a bedrobe, wooden sandals on her feet. \\\"I woke, and saw that you were gone. Did you sleep well? What are you looking at?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My city,\\\" said Dany. \\\"I was looking fora house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A red door?\\\" Missandei was puzzled. \\\"What house is this?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No house. It does not matter.\\\" Dany took the younger girl by the hand. \\\"Never lie tome, Missandei. Never betray me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I never would,\\\" Missandei promised. \\\"Look, dawn comes.\\\"\\n\\nThe sky had turned a cobalt blue from the horizon to the zenith, and behind the line of low hills to the east aglow could be seen, pale gold and oyster pink. Dany held Missandei's hand as they watched the sun come up. All the grey bricks became red and yellow and blue and green and orange. The scarlet sands of the fighting pits transformed them into bleeding sores before her eyes. Elsewhere the golden dome of the Temple of the Graces blazed bright, and bronze stars winked along the walls where the light of the rising sun touched the spikes on the helms of the Unsullied. On the terrace, a few flies stirred sluggishly. A bird began to chirp in the persimmon tree, and then two more. Dany cocked her head to hear their song, but it was not long before the sounds of the waking city drowned them out.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The sounds of my city.\\n\\nThat morning she summoned her captains and commanders to the garden, rather than descending to the audience chamber. \\\"Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver's Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There is nothing to stay for,\\\" said Brown Ben Plumm.\\n\\n\\\"Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,\\\" said Daario Naharis.\\n\\n\\\"You have brought freedom as well,\\\" Missandei pointed out.\\n\\n\\\"Freedom to starve?\\\" asked Dany sharply. \\\"Freedom to die? Am Ia dragon, or a harpy?\\\" Am I mad? Do I have the taint?\\n\\n\\\"A dragon,\\\" Ser Barristan said with certainty. \\\"Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?\\\" He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. \\\"My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I've freed allover again.\\\" She turned back to look at their faces. \\\"I will not march.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What will you do then, Khaleesi?\\\" asked Rakharo.\\n\\n\\\"Stay,\\\" she said. \\\"Rule. And be a queen.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"JAIME\\n\\nThe king sat at the head of the table, a stack of cushions under his arse, signing each document as it was presented to him.\\n\\n\\\"Only a few more, Your Grace,\\\" Ser Kevan Lannister assured him. \\\"This is a bill of attainder against Lord Edmure Tully, stripping him of Riverrun and all its lands and incomes, for rebelling against his lawful king. This is a similar attainder, against his uncle Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish.\\\" Tommen signed them one after the other, dipping the quill carefully and writing his name in abroad childish hand.\\n\\nJaime watched from the foot of the table, thinking of all those lords who aspired to a seat on the king's small council. They can bloody well have mine. If this was power, why did it taste like tedium? He did not feel especially powerful, watching Tommen dip his quill in the inkpot again. He felt bored.\\n\\nAnd sore. Every muscle in his body ached, and his ribs and shoulders were bruised from the battering they'd gotten, courtesy of Ser Addam Marbrand. Just thinking of it made him wince. He could only hope the man would keep his mouth shut. Jaime had known Marbrand since he was a boy, serving as a page at Casterly Rock; he trusted him as much as he trusted anyone. Enough to ask him to take up shields and tourney swords. He had wanted to know if he could fight with his left hand.\\n\\nAnd now I do. The knowledge was more painful than the beating that Ser Addam had given him, and the beating was so bad he could hardly dress himself this morning. If they had been fighting in earnest, Jaime would have died two dozen deaths. It seemed so simple, changing hands. It wasn't. Every instinct he had was wrong. He had to think about everything, where once he'd just moved. And while he was thinking, Marbrand was thumping him. His left hand couldn't even seem to hold a longsword properly; Ser Addam had disarmed him thrice, sending his blade spinning.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2288,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 74"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"JAIME\n\nThe king sat at the head of the table, a stack of cushions under his arse, signing each document as it was presented to him.\n\n\"Only a few more, Your Grace,\" Ser Kevan Lannister assured him. \"This is a bill of attainder against Lord Edmure Tully, stripping him of Riverrun and all its lands and incomes, for rebelling against his lawful king. This is a similar attainder, against his uncle Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish.\" Tommen signed them one after the other, dipping the quill carefully and writing his name in abroad childish hand.\n\nJaime watched from the foot of the table, thinking of all those lords who aspired to a seat on the king's small council. They can bloody well have mine. If this was power, why did it taste like tedium? He did not feel especially powerful, watching Tommen dip his quill in the inkpot again. He felt bored.\n\nAnd sore. Every muscle in his body ached, and his ribs and shoulders were bruised from the battering they'd gotten, courtesy of Ser Addam Marbrand. Just thinking of it made him wince. He could only hope the man would keep his mouth shut. Jaime had known Marbrand since he was a boy, serving as a page at Casterly Rock; he trusted him as much as he trusted anyone. Enough to ask him to take up shields and tourney swords. He had wanted to know if he could fight with his left hand.\n\nAnd now I do. The knowledge was more painful than the beating that Ser Addam had given him, and the beating was so bad he could hardly dress himself this morning. If they had been fighting in earnest, Jaime would have died two dozen deaths. It seemed so simple, changing hands. It wasn't. Every instinct he had was wrong. He had to think about everything, where once he'd just moved. And while he was thinking, Marbrand was thumping him. His left hand couldn't even seem to hold a longsword properly; Ser Addam had disarmed him thrice, sending his blade spinning."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"This grants said lands, incomes, and castle to Ser Emmon Frey and his lady wife, Lady Genna.\" Ser Kevan presented another sheaf of parchments to the king. Tommen dipped and signed. \"This is a decree of legitimacy fora natural son of Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort. And this names Lord Bolton your Warden of the North.\" Tommen dipped, signed, dipped, signed. \"This grants Ser Rolph Spicer title to the castle Castamere and raises him to the rank of lord.\" Tommen scrawled his name.\n\nI should have gone to Ser Ilyn Payne, Jaime reflected. The King's Justice was not a friend as Marbrand was, and might well have beat him bloody... but without a tongue, he was not like to boast of it afterward. All it would take would be one chance remark by Ser Addam in his cups, and the whole world would soon know how useless he'd become. Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. It was a cruel jape, that... though not quite so cruel as the gift his father had sent him.\n\n\"This is your royal pardon for Lord Gawen Westerling, his lady wife, and his daughter Jeyne, welcoming them back into the king's peace,\" Ser Kevan said. \"This is a pardon for Lord Jonos Bracken of Stone Hedge. This is a pardon for Lord Vance. This for Lord Goodbrook. This for Lord Mooton of Maidenpool.\"\n\nJaime pushed himself to his feet. \"You seem to have these matters well in hand, Uncle. I shall leave His Grace to you.\"\n\n\"As you wish.\" Ser Kevan rose as well. \"Jaime, you should go to your father. This breach between you-\"\n\n\"-is his doing. Nor will he mend it by sending me mocking gifts. Tell him that, if you can pry him away from the Tyrells long enough.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"His uncle looked distressed. \"The gift was heartfelt. We thought that it might encourage you-\"\n\n\"-to grow anew hand?\" Jaime turned to Tommen. Though he had Joffrey's golden curls and green eyes, the new king shared little else with his late brother. He inclined to plumpness, his face was pink and round, and he even liked to read. He is still shy of nine, this son of mine. The boy is not the man. It would be seven years before Tommen was ruling in his own right. Until then the realm would remain firmly in the hands of his lord grandfather. \"Sire,\" he asked, \"do I have your leave to go?\"\n\n\"As you like, Ser Uncle.\" Tommen looked back to Ser Kevan. \"Can I seal them now, Great-Uncle?\" Pressing his royal seal into the hot wax was his favorite part of being king, so far.\n\nJaime strode from the council chamber. Outside the door he found Ser Meryn Trant standing stiff at guard in white scale armor and snowy cloak. If this one should learn how feeble I am, or Kettleblack or Blount should hear of it...\"Remain here until His Grace is done,\" he said, \"then escort him back to Maegor's.\"\n\nTrant inclined his head. \"As you say, my lord.\"\n\nThe outer ward was crowded and noisy that morning. Jaime made for the stables, where a large group of men were saddling their horses. \"Steelshanks!\" he called. \"Are you off, then?\"\n\n\"As soon as m'lady is mounted,\" said Steelshanks Walton. \"My lord of Bolton expects us. Here she is now.\"\n\nA groom led a fine grey mare out the stable door. On her back was mounted a skinny hollow-eyed girl wrapped in a heavy cloak. Grey, it was, like the dress beneath it, and trimmed with white satin. The clasp that pinned it to her breast was wrought in the shape of a wolf's head with slitted opal eyes. The girl's long brown hair blew wild in the wind. She had a pretty face, he thought, but her eyes were sad and wary."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When she saw him, she inclined her head. \"Ser Jaime,\" she said in a thin anxious voice. \"You are kind to see me off.\"\n\nJaime studied her closely. \"You know me, then?\"\n\nShe bit her lip. \"You may not recall, my lord, as I was littler then... but I had the honor to meet you at Winterfell when King Robert came to visit my father Lord Eddard.\" She lowered her big brown eyes and mumbled, \"I'm Arya Stark.\"\n\nJaime had never paid much attention to Arya Stark, but it seemed to him that this girl was older. \"I understand you're to be married.\"\n\n\"I am towed Lord Bolton's son, Ramsay. He used to be a Snow, but His Grace has made him a Bolton. They say he's very brave. I am so happy.\"\n\nThen why do you sound so frightened? \"I wish you joy, my lady.\" Jaime turned back to Steelshanks. \"You have the coin you were promised?\"\n\n\"Aye, and we've shared it out. You have my thanks.\" The northman grinned. \"A Lannister always pays his debts.\"\n\n\"Always,\" said Jaime, with a last glance at the girl. He wondered if there was much resemblance. Not that it mattered. The real Arya Stark was buried in some unmarked grave in Flea Bottom in all likelihood. With her brothers dead, and both parents, who would dare name this one a fraud? \"Good speed,\" he told Steelshanks. Nage raised his peace banner, and the northmen formed a column as ragged as their fur cloaks and trotted out the castle gate. The thin girl on the grey mare looked small and forlorn in their midst."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A few of the horses still shied away from the dark splotch on the hard-packed ground where the earth had drunk the life's blood of the stableboy Gregor Clegane had killed so clumsily. The sight of it made Jaime angry allover again. He had told his Kingsguard to keep the crowd out of the way, but that oaf Ser Boros had let himself be distracted by the duel. The fool boy himself shared some of the blame, to be sure; the dead Dornishman as well. And Clegane most of all. The blow that took the boy's arm off had been mischance, but that second cut...\n\nWell, Gregor is paying for it now. Grand Maester Pycelle was tending to the man's wounds, but the howls heard ringing from the maester's chambers suggested that the healing was not going as well as it might. \"The flesh mortifies and the wounds ooze pus,\" Pycelle told the council. \"Even maggots will not touch such foulness. His convulsions are so violent that I have had to gag him to prevent him from biting off his tongue. I have cutaway as much tissue as I dare, and treated the rot with boiling wine and bread mold, to no avail. The veins in his arm are turning black. When I leeched him, all the leeches died. My lords, I must know what malignant substance Prince Oberyn used on his spear. Let us detain these other Dornishmen until they are more forthcoming.\"\n\nLord Tywin had refused him. \"There will be trouble enough with Sunspear over Prince Oberyn's death. I do not mean to make matters worse by holding his companions captive.\"\n\n\"Then I fear Ser Gregor may die.\"\n\n\"Undoubtedly. I swore as much in the letter I sent to Prince Doran with his brother's body. But it must be seen to be the sword of the King's Justice that slays him, not a poisoned spear. Heal him.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Grand Maester Pycelle blinked in dismay. \"My lord-\"\n\n\"Heal him,\" Lord Tywin said again, vexed. \"You are aware that Lord Varys has sent fishermen into the waters around Dragonstone. They report that only a token force remains to defend the island. The Lyseni are gone from the bay, and the great part of Lord Stannis's strength with them.\"\n\n\"Welland good,\" announced Pycelle. \"Let Stannis rot in Lys, I say. We are well rid of the man and his ambitions.\"\n\n\"Did you turn into an utter fool when Tyrion shaved your beard? This is Stannis Baratheon. The man will fight to the bitter end and then some. If he is gone, it can only mean he intends to resume the war. Most likely he will land at Storm's End and try and rouse the storm lords. If so, he's finished. But a bolder man might roll the dice for Dorne. If he should win Sunspear to his cause, he might prolong this war for years. So we will not offend the Martells any further, for any reason. The Dornishmen are free to go, and you will heal Ser Gregor.\"\n\nAnd so the Mountain screamed, day and night. Lord Tywin Lannister could cow even the Stranger, it would seem.\n\nAs Jaime climbed the winding steps of White Sword Tower, he could hear Ser Boros snoring in his cell. Ser Balon's door was shut as well; he had the king tonight, and would sleep all day. Aside from Blount's snores, the tower was very quiet. That suited Jaime well enough. I ought to rest myself. Last night, after his dance with Ser Addam, he'd been too sore to sleep."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But when he stepped into his bedchamber, he found his sister waiting for him.\n\nShe stood beside the open window, looking over the curtain walls and out to sea. The bay wind swirled around her, flattening her gown against her body in away that quickened Jaime's pulse. It was white, that gown, like the hangings on the wall and the draperies on his bed. Swirls of tiny emeralds brightened the ends of her wide sleeves and spiraled down her bodice. Larger emeralds were set in the golden spiderweb that bound her golden hair. The gown was cut low, to bare her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. She is so beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms.\n\n\"Cersei.\" He closed the door softly. \"Why are you here?\"\n\n\"Where else could I go?\" When she turned to him there were tears in her eyes. \"Father's made it clear that I am no longer wanted on the council. Jaime, won't you talk to him?\"\n\nJaime took off his cloak and hung it from a peg on the wall. \"I talk to Lord Tywin everyday.\"\n\n\"Must you be so stubborn? All he wants...\"\n\n\"... is to force me from the Kingsguard and send me back to Casterly Rock.\"\n\n\"That need not be so terrible. He is sending me back to Casterly Rock as well. He wants me faraway, so he'll have a freehand with Tommen. Tommen is my son, not his!\"\n\n\"Tommen is the king.\"\n\n\"He is a boy! A frightened little boy who saw his brother murdered at his own wedding. And now they are telling him that he must marry. The girl is twice his age and twice a widow!\""},{"from":"human","value":"He eased himself into a chair, trying to ignore the ache of bruised muscles."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The Tyrells are insisting. I see no harm in it. Tommen's been lonely since Myrcella went to Dorne. He likes having Margaery and her ladies about. Let them wed.\"\n\n\"He is your son...\"\n\n\"He is my seed. He's never called me Father. No more than Joffrey ever did. You warned me a thousand times never to show any undue interest in them.\"\n\n\"To keep them safe! You as well. How would it have looked if my brother had played the father to the king's children? Even Robert might have grown suspicious.\"\n\n\"Well, he's beyond suspicion now.\" Robert's death still left a bitter taste in Jaime's mouth. It should have been me who killed him, not Cersei. \"I only wished he'd died at my hands.\" When I still had two of them. \"If I'd let kingslaying become a habit, as he liked to say, I could have taken you as my wife for all the world to see. I'm not ashamed of loving you, only of the things I've done to hide it. That boy at Winterfell...\"\n\n\"Did I tell you to throw him out the window? If you'd gone hunting as I begged you, nothing would have happened. But no, you had to have me, you could not wait until we returned to the city.\"\n\n\"I'd waited long enough. I hated watching Robert stumble to your bed every night, always wondering if maybe this night he'd decide to claim his rights as husband.\" Jaime suddenly remembered something else that troubled him about Winterfell. \"At Riverrun, Catelyn Stark seemed convinced I'd sent some footpad to slither son's throat. That I'd given him a dagger.\"\n\n\"That,\" she said scornfully. \"Tyrion asked me about that.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"There was a dagger."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The scars on Lady Catelyn's hands were real enough, she showed them tome. Did you...?\"\n\n\"Oh, don't be absurd.\" Cersei closed the window. \"Yes, I hoped the boy would die. So did you. Even Robert thought that would have been for the best.\"We kill our horses when they break a leg, and our dogs when they go blind, but we are too weak to give the same mercy to crippled children, ' he told me. He was blind himself at the time, from drink.\"\n\nRobert? Jaime had guarded the king long enough to know that Robert Baratheon said things in his cups that he would have denied angrily the next day. \"Were you alone when Robert said this?\"\n\n\"You don't think he said it to Ned Stark, I hope? Of course we were alone. Us and the children.\" Cersei removed her hairnet and draped it over a bedpost, then shook out her golden curls. \"Perhaps Myrcella sent this man with the dagger, do you think so?\"\n\nIt was meant as mockery, but she'd cut right to the heart of it, Jaime saw at once. \"Not Myrcella. Joffrey.\"\n\nCersei frowned. \"Joffrey had no love for Robb Stark, but the younger boy was nothing to him. He was only a child himself.\"\n\n\"A child hungry fora pat on the head from that sot you let him believe was his father.\" He had an uncomfortable thought. \"Tyrion almost died because of this bloody dagger. If he knew the whole thing was Joffrey's work, that might be why...\"\n\n\"I don't care why,\" Cersei said. \"He can take his reasons down to hell with him. If you had seen how Joff died... he fought, Jaime, he fought for every breath, but it was as if some malign spirit had its hands about his throat. He had such terror in his eyes... When he was little, he'd run tome when he was scared or hurt and I would protect him. But that night there was nothing I could do. Tyrion murdered him in front of me, and there was nothing I could do.\" Cersei sank to her knees before his chair and took Jaime's good hand between both of hers. \"Joff is dead and Myrcella's in Dorne. Tommen's all I have left. You mustn't let Father take him from me. Jaime, please.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Lord Tywin has not asked for my approval. I can talk to him, but he will not listen...\"\n\n\"He will if you agree to leave the Kingsguard.\"\n\n\"I'm not leaving the Kingsguard.\"\n\nHis sister fought back tears. \"Jaime, you're my shining knight. You cannot abandon me when I need you most! He is stealing my son, sending me away... and unless you stop him, Father is going to force me towed again!\"\n\nJaime should not have been surprised, but he was. The words were a blow to his gut harder than any that Ser Addam Marbrand had dealt him. \"Who?\"\n\n\"Does it matter? Some lord or other. Someone Father thinks he needs. I don't care. I will not have another husband. You are the only man I want in my bed, ever again.\"\n\n\"Then tell him that!\"\n\nShe pulled her hands away. \"You are talking madness again. Would you have us ripped apart, as Mother did that time she caught us playing? Tommen would lose the throne, Myrcella her marriage... I want to be your wife, we belong to each other, but it can never be, Jaime. We are brother and sister.\"\n\n\"The Targaryens...\"\n\n\"We are not Targaryens!\"\n\n\"Quiet,\" he said, scornfully. \"So loud, you'll wake my Sworn Brothers. We can't have that, now, can we? People might learn that you had come to see me.\"\n\n\"Jaime,\" she sobbed, \"don't you think I want it as much as you do? It makes no matter who they wed me to, I want you at my side, I want you in my bed, I want you inside me. Nothing has changed between us. Let me prove it to you.\" She pushed up his tunic and began to fumble with the laces of his breeches."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jaime felt himself responding. \"No,\" he said, \"not here.\" They had never done it in White Sword Tower, much less in the Lord Commander's chambers. \"Cersei, this is not the place.\"\n\n\"You took me in the sept. This is no different.\" She drew out his cock and bent her head over it.\n\nJaime pushed her away with the stump of his right hand. \"No. Not here, I said.\" He forced himself to stand.\n\nFor an instant he could see confusion in her bright green eyes, and fear as well. Then rage replaced it. Cersei gathered herself together, got to her feet, straightened her skirts. \"Was it your hand they hacked off in Harrenhal, or your manhood?\" As she shook her head, her hair tumbled around her bare white shoulders. \"I was a fool to come. You lacked the courage to avenge Joffrey, why would I think that you'd protect Tommen? Tell me, if the Imp had killed all three of your children, would that have made you wroth?\"\n\n\"Tyrion is not going to harm Tommen or Myrcella. I am still not certain he killed Joffrey.\"\n\nHer mouth twisted in anger. \"How can you say that? After all his threats-\"\n\n\"Threats mean nothing. He swears he did not do it.\"\n\n\"Oh, he swears, is that it? And dwarfs don't lie, is that what you think?\"\n\n\"Not tome. No more than you would.\"\n\n\"You great golden fool. He's lied to you a thousand times, and so have I.\" She bound up her hair again, and scooped up the hairnet from the bedpost where she'd hung it. \"Think what you will. The little monster is in a black cell, and soon Ser Ilyn will have his head off. Perhaps you'd like it fora keepsake.\" She glanced at the pillow. \"He can watch over you as you sleep alone in that cold white bed. Until his eyes rot out, that is.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You had best go, Cersei. You're making me angry.\"\n\n\"Oh, an angry cripple. How terrifying.\" She laughed. \"A pity Lord Tywin Lannister never had a son. I could have been the heir he wanted, but I lacked the cock. And speaking of such, best tuck yours away, brother. It looks rather sad and small, hanging from your breeches like that.\"\n\nWhen she was gone Jaime took her advice, fumbling one-handed at his laces. He felt a bone-deep ache in his phantom fingers. I've lost a hand, a father, a son, a sister, and a lover, and soon enough I will lose a brother. And yet they keep telling me House Lannister won this war.\n\nJaime donned his cloak and went downstairs, where he found Ser Boros Blount having a cup of wine in the common room. \"When you're done with your drink, tell Ser Loras I'm ready to see her.\"\n\nSer Boros was too much of a coward to do much more than glower. \"You are ready to see who?\"\n\n\"Just tell Loras.\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Ser Boros drained his cup. \"Aye, Lord Commander.\"\n\nHe took his own good time about it, though, or else the Knight of Flowers proved hard to find. Several hours had passed by the time they arrived, the slim handsome youth and the big ugly maid. Jaime was sitting alone in the round room, leafing idly through the White Book. \"Lord Commander,\" Ser Loras said, \"you wished to seethe Maid of Tarth?\"\n\n\"I did.\" Jaime waved them closer with his left hand. \"You have talked with her, I take it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"As you commanded, my lord.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\nThe lad tensed. \"I... it maybe it happened as she says, ser. That it was Stannis. I cannot be certain.\"\n\n\"Varys tells me that the castellan of Storm's End perished strangely as well,\" said Jaime.\n\n\"Ser Cortnay Penrose,\" said Brienne sadly. \"A good man.\"\n\n\"A stubborn man. One day he stood square in the way of the King of Dragonstone. The next he leapt from a tower.\" Jaime stood. \"Ser Loras, we will talk more of this later. You may leave Brienne with me.\"\n\nThe wench looked as ugly and awkward as ever, he decided when Tyrell left them. Someone had dressed her in woman's clothes again, but this dress fit much better than that hideous pink rag the goat had made her wear. \"Blue is a good color on you, my lady,\" Jaime observed. \"It goes well with your eyes.\" She does have astonishing eyes.\n\nBrienne glanced down at herself, flustered. \"Septa Donyse padded out the bodice, to give it that shape. She said you sent her tome.\" She lingered by the door, as if she meant to flee at any second. \"You look...\"\n\n\"Different?\" He managed a half-smile. \"More meat on the ribs and fewer lice in my hair, that's all. The stump's the same. Close the door and come here.\"\n\nShe did as he bid her. \"The white cloak...\"\n\n\"... is new, but I'm sure I'll soil it soon enough.\"\n\n\"That wasn't... I was about to say that it becomes you.\"\n\nShe came closer, hesitant. \"Jaime, did you mean what you told Ser Loras? About... about King Renly, and the shadow?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jaime shrugged. \"I would have killed Renly myself if we'd met in battle, what do I care who cut his throat?\"\n\n\"You said I had honor...\"\n\n\"I'm the bloody Kingslayer, remember? When I say you have honor, that's like a whore vouchsafing your maidenhood.\" He leaned back and looked up at her. \"Steelshanks is on his way back north, to deliver Arya Stark to Roose Bolton.\"\n\n\"You gave her to him?\" she cried, dismayed. \"You swore an oath to Lady Catelyn...\"\n\n\"With a sword at my throat, but never mind. Lady Catelyn's dead. I could not give her back her daughters even if I had them. And the girl my father sent with Steelshanks was not Arya Stark.\"\n\n\"Not Arya Stark?\"\n\n\"You heard me. My lord father found some skinny northern girl more or less the same age with more or less the same coloring. He dressed her up in white and grey, gave her a silver wolf to pin her cloak, and sent her off towed Bolton's bastard.\" He lifted his stump to point at her. \"I wanted to tell you that before you went galloping off to rescue her and got yourself killed for no good purpose. You're not half bad with a sword, but you're not good enough to take on two hundred men by yourself.\"\n\nBrienne shook her head. \"When Lord Bolton learns that your father paid him with false coin...\"\n\n\"Oh, he knows. Lannisters lie, remember? It makes no matter, this girl serves his purpose just as well. Who is going to say that she isn't Arya Stark? Everyone the girl was close to is dead except for her sister, who has disappeared.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Why would you tell me all this, if it's true? You are betraying your father's secrets.\"\n\nThe Hand's secrets, he thought. I no longer have a father. \"I pay my debts like every good little lion. I did promise Lady Stark her daughters... and one of them is still alive. My brother may know where she is, but if so he isn't saying. Cersei is convinced that Sansa helped him murder Joffrey.\"\n\nThe wench's mouth got stubborn. \"I will not believe that gentle girl a poisoner. Lady Catelyn said that she had a loving heart. It was your brother. There was atrial, Ser Loras said.\"\n\n\"Two trials, actually. Words and swords both failed him. A bloody mess. Did you watch from your window?\"\n\n\"My cell faces the sea. I heard the shouting, though.\"\n\n\"Prince Oberyn of Dorne is dead, Ser Gregor Clegane lies dying, and Tyrion stands condemned before the eyes of gods and men. They're keeping him in a black cell till they kill him.\"\n\nBrienne looked at him. \"You do not believe he did it.\"\n\nJaime gave her a hard smile. \"See, wench? We know each other too well. Tyrion's wanted to be me since he took his first step, but he'd never follow me in kingslaying. Sansa Stark killed Joffrey. My brother's kept silent to protect her. He gets these fits of gallantry from time to time. The last one cost him a nose. This time it will mean his head.\"\n\n\"No,\" Brienne said. \"It was not my lady's daughter. It could not have been her.\"\n\n\"There's the stubborn stupid wench that I remember.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She reddened. \"My name is...\"\n\n\"Brienne of Tarth.\" Jaime sighed. \"I have a gift for you.\" He reached down under the Lord Commander's chair and brought it out, wrapped in folds of crimson velvet.\n\nBrienne approached as if the bundle was like to bite her, reached out a huge freckled hand, and flipped back a fold of cloth. Rubies glimmered in the light. She picked the treasure up gingerly, curled her fingers around the leather grip, and slowly slid the sword free of its scabbard. Blood and black the ripples shone. A finger of reflected light ran red along the edge. \"Is this Valyrian steel? I have never seen such colors.\"\n\n\"Nor I. There was a time that I would have given my right hand to wield a sword like that. Now it appears I have, so the blade is wasted on me. Take it.\" Before she could think to refuse, he went on. \"A sword so fine must bear a name. It would please me if you would call this one Oathkeeper. One more thing. The blade comes with a price.\"\n\nHer face darkened. \"I told you, I will never serve...\"\n\n\"... such foul creatures as us. Yes, I recall. Hear me out, Brienne. Both of us swore oaths concerning Sansa Stark. Cersei means to see that the girl is found and killed, wherever she has gone to ground...\"\n\nBrienne's homely face twisted in fury. \"If you believe that I would harm my lady's daughter fora sword, you-\"\n\n\"Just listen,\" he snapped, angered by her assumption. \"I want you to find Sansa first, and get her somewhere safe. How else are the two of us going to make good our stupid vows to your precious dead Lady Catelyn?\""},{"from":"human","value":"The wench blinked."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I... I thought...\"\n\n\"I know what you thought.\" Suddenly Jaime was sick of the sight of her. She bleats like a bloody sheep. \"When Ned Stark died, his greatsword was given to the King's Justice,\" he told her. \"But my father felt that such a fine blade was wasted on a mere headsman. He gave Ser Ilyn anew sword, and had Ice melted down and reforged. There was enough metal for two new blades. You're holding one. So you'll be defending Ned Stark's daughter with Ned Stark's own steel, if that makes any difference to you.\"\n\n\"Ser, I... I owe you an apolo...\"\n\nHe cut her off. \"Take the bloody sword and go, before I change my mind. There's a bay mare in the stables, as homely as you are but somewhat better trained. Chase after Steelshanks, search for Sansa, or ride home to your isle of sapphires, it's naught tome. I don't want to look at you anymore.\"\n\n\"Jaime...\"\n\n\"Kingslayer,\" he reminded her. \"Best use that sword to clean the wax out of your ears, wench. We're done.\"\n\nStubbornly, she persisted. \"Joffrey was your...\"\n\n\"My king. Leave it at that.\"\n\n\"You say Sansa killed him. Why protect her?\"\n\nBecause Joff was no more tome than a squirt of seed in Cersei's cunt. And because he deserved to die. \"I have made kings and unmade them. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor.\" Jaime smiled thinly. \"Besides, kingslayers should band together. Are you ever going to go?\"\n\nHer big hand wrapped tight around Oathkeeper. \"I will. And I will find the girl and keep her safe. For her lady mother's sake. And for yours.\" She bowed stiffly, whirled, and went."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jaime sat alone at the table while the shadows crept across the room. As dusk began to settle, he lit a candle and opened the White Book to his own page. Quill and ink he found in a drawer. Beneath the last line Ser Barristan had entered, he wrote in an awkward hand that might have done credit to a six-year-old being taught his first letters by a maester:\n\nDefeated in the Whispering Wood by the Young Wolf Robb Stark during the War of the Five Kings. Held captive at Riverrun and ransomed fora promise unfulfilled. Captured again by the Brave Companions, and maimed at the word of Vargo Hoat their captain, losing his sword hand to the blade of Zollo the Fat. Returned safely to King's Landing by Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.\n\nWhen he was done, more than three-quarters of his page still remained to be filled between the gold lion on the crimson shield on top and the blank white shield at the bottom. Ser Gerold Hightower had begun his history, and Ser Barristan Selmy had continued it, but the rest Jaime Lannister would need to write for himself. He could write whatever he chose, henceforth.\n\nWhatever he chose..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"JON\n\nThe wind was blowing wild from the east, so strong the heavy cage would rock whenever a gust got it in its teeth. It skirled along the Wall, shivering off the ice, making Jon's cloak flap against the bars. The sky was slate grey, the sun no more than a faint patch of brightness behind the clouds. Across the killing ground, he could seethe glimmer of a thousand campfires burning, but their lights seemed small and powerless against such gloom and cold.\n\nA grim day. Jon Snow wrapped gloved hands around the bars and held tight as the wind hammered at the cage once more. When he looked straight down past his feet, the ground was lost in shadow, as if he were being lowered into some bottomless pit. Well, death is a bottomless pit of sorts, he reflected, and when this day's work is done my name will be shadowed forever.\n\nBastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous. Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb. I made a botch of that. Robb had become a hero king; if Jon was remembered at all, it would be as a turncloak, an oathbreaker, and a murderer. He was glad that Lord Eddard was not alive to see his shame.\n\nI should have stayed in that cave with Ygritte. If there was a life beyond this one, he hoped to tell her that. She will claw my face the way the eagle did, and curse me fora coward, but I'll tell her all the same. He flexed his sword hand, as Maester Aemon had taught him. The habit had become part of him, and he would need his fingers to be limber to have even half a chance of murdering Mance Rayder."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They had pulled him out this morning, after four days in the ice, locked up in a cell five by five by five, too low for him to stand, too tight for him to stretch out on his back. The stewards had long ago discovered that food and meat kept longer in the icy storerooms carved from the base of the Wall... but prisoners did not. \"You will die inhere, Lord Snow,\" Ser Alliser had said just before he closed the heavy wooden door, and Jon had believed it. But this morning they had come and pulled him out again, and marched him cramped and shivering back to the King's Tower, to stand before jowly Janos Slynt once more\n\n\"That old maester says I cannot hang you,\" Slynt declared. \"He has written Cotter Pyke, and even had the bloody gall to show me the letter. He says you are no turncloak.\"\n\n\"Aemon's lived too long, my lord,\" Ser Alliser assured him. \"His wits have gone dark as his eyes.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Slynt said. \"A blind man with a chain about his neck, who does he think he is?\"\n\nAemon Targaryen, Jon thought, a king's son and a king's brother and a king who might have been. But he said nothing.\n\n\"Still,\" Slynt said, \"I will not have it said that Janos Slynt hanged a man unjustly. I will not. I have decided to give you one last chance to prove you areas loyal as you claim, Lord Snow. One last chance to do your duty, yes!\" He stood. \"Mance Rayder wants to parley with us. He knows he has no chance now that Janos Slynt has come, so he wants to talk, this King-beyond-the-Wall. But the man is craven, and will not come to us. No doubt he knows I'd hang him. Hang him by his feet from the top of the Wall, on a rope two hundred feet long! But he will not come. He asks that we send an envoy to him.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We're sending you, Lord Snow.\" Ser Alliser smiled.\n\n\"Me.\" Jon's voice was flat. \"Why me?\"\n\n\"You rode with these wildlings,\" said Thorne. \"Mance Rayder knows you. He will be more inclined to trust you.\"\n\nThat was so wrong Jon might have laughed. \"You've got it backward. Mance suspected me from the first. If I show up in his camp wearing a black cloak again and speaking for the Night's Watch, he'll know that I betrayed him.\"\n\n\"He asked for an envoy, we are sending one,\" said Slynt. \"If you are too craven to face this turncloak king, we can return you to your ice cell. This time without the furs, I think. Yes.\"\n\n\"No need for that, my lord,\" said Ser Alliser. \"Lord Snow will do as we ask. He wants to show us that he is no turncloak. He wants to prove himself a loyal man of the Night's Watch.\"\n\nThorne was much the more clever of the two, Jon realized; this had his stink allover it. He was trapped. \"I'll go,\" he said in a clipped, curt voice.\n\n\"M'lord,\" Janos Slynt reminded him. \"You'll address me-\"\n\n\"I'll go, my lord. But you are making a mistake, my lord. You are sending the wrong man, my lord. Just the sight of me is going to anger Mance. My lord would have a better chance of reaching terms if he sent-\"\n\n\"Terms?\" Ser Alliser chuckled.\n\n\"Janos Slynt does not make terms with lawless savages, Lord Snow. No, he does not.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"We're not sending you to talk with Mance Rayder,\" Ser Alliser said."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We're sending you to kill him.\"\n\nThe wind whistled through the bars, and Jon Snow shivered. His leg was throbbing, and his head. He was not fit to kill a kitten, yet here he was. The trap had teeth. With Maester Aemon insisting on Jon's innocence, Lord Janos had not dared to leave him in the ice to die. This was better. \"Our honor means no more than our lives, so long as the realm is safe,\" Qhorin Halfhand had said in the Frostfangs. He must remember that. Whether he slew Mance or only tried and failed, the free folk would kill him. Even desertion was impossible, if he'd been so inclined; to Mance he was a proven liar and betrayer.\n\nWhen the cage jerked to a halt, Jon swung down onto the ground and rattled Longclaw's hilt to loosen the bastard blade in its scabbard. The gate was a few yards to his left, still blocked by the splintered ruins of the turtle, the carcass of a mammoth ripening within. There were other corpses too, strewn amidst broken barrels, hardened pitch, and patches of burnt grass, all shadowed by the Wall. Jon had no wish to linger here. He started walking toward the wildling camp, past the body of a dead giant whose head had been crushed by a stone. A raven was pulling out bits of brain from the giant's shattered skull. It looked up as he walked by. \"Snow,\" it screamed at him. \"Snow, snow.\" Then it opened its wings and flew away.\n\nNo sooner had he started out than alone rider emerged from the wildling camp and came toward him. He wondered if Mance was coming out to parley in no-man's-land. That might make it easier, though nothing will make it easy. But as the distance between them diminished Jon saw that the horseman was short and broad, with gold rings glinting on thick arms and a white beard spreading out across his massive chest."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Har!\" Tormund boomed when they came together. \"Jon Snow the crow. I feared we'd seen the last o\" you.\"\n\n\"I never knew you feared anything, Tormund.\"\n\nThat made the wildling grin. \"Well said, lad. I see your cloak is black. Mance won't like that. If you've come to change sides again, best climb back on that Wall o' yours.\"\n\n\"They've sent me to treat with the King-beyond-the-Wall.\"\n\n\"Treat?\" Tormund laughed. \"Now there's a word. Har! Mance wants to talk, that's true enough. Can't say he'd want to talk with you, though.\"\n\n\"I'm the one they've sent.\"\n\n\"I see that. Best come along, then. You want to ride?\"\n\n\"I can walk.\"\n\n\"You fought us hard here.\" Tormund turned his garron back toward the wildling camp. \"You and your brothers. I give you that. Two hundred dead, and a dozen giants. Mag himself went in that gate o' yours and never did come out.\"\n\n\"He died on the sword of a brave man named Donal Noye.\"\n\n\"Aye? Some great lord was he, this Donal Noye? One of your shiny knights in their steel smallclothes?\"\n\n\"A blacksmith. He only had one arm.\"\n\n\"A one-armed smith slew Mag the Mighty? Har! That must o'been a fight to see. Mance will make a song of it, see if he don't.\" Tormund took a waterskin off his saddle and pulled the cork. \"This will warm us some. To Donal Noye, and Mag the Mighty.\" He took a swing, and handed it down to Jon."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"To Donal Noye, and Mag the Mighty.\" The skin was full of mead, but a mead so potent that it made Jon's eyes water and sent tendrils of fire snaking through his chest. After the ice cell and the cold ride down in the cage, the warmth was welcome.\n\nTormund took the skin back and downed another swig, then wiped his mouth. \"The Magnar of Thenn swore t'us that he'd have the gate wide open, so all we'd need to do was stroll through singing. He was going to bring the whole Wall down.\"\n\n\"He brought down part,\" Jon said. \"On his head.\"\n\n\"Har!\" said Tormund. \"Well, I never had much use for Styr. When a man's got no beard nor hair nor ears, you can't get a good grip on him when you fight.\" He kept his horse at a slow walk so Jon could limp beside him. \"What happened to that leg?\"\n\n\"An arrow. One of Ygritte's, I think.\"\n\n\"That's a woman for you. One day she's kissing you, the next she's filling you with arrows.\"\n\n\"She's dead.\"\n\n\"Aye?\" Tormund gave a sad shake of the head. \"A waste. If I'd been ten years younger, I'd have stolen her meself. That hair she had. Well, the hottest fires burnout quickest.\" He lifted the skin of mead. \"To Ygritte, kissed by fire!\" He drank deep.\n\n\"To Ygritte, kissed by fire,\" Jon repeated when Tormund handed him back the skin. He drank even deeper.\n\n\"Was it you killed her?\"\n\n\"My brother.\" Jon had never learned which one, and hoped he never would."},{"from":"human","value":"\"You bloody crows.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tormund's tone was gruff, yet strangely gentle. \"That Longspear stole me daughter. Munda, me little autumn apple. Took her right out o\" my tent with all four o'her brothers about. Toregg slept through it, the great lout, and Torwynd... well, Torwynd the Tame, that says all that needs saying, don't it? The young ones gave the lad a fight, though.\"\n\n\"And Munda?\" asked Jon.\n\n\"She's my own blood,\" said Tormund proudly. \"She broke his lip for him and bit one ear half off, and I hear he's got so many scratches on his back he can't wear a cloak. She likes him well enough, though. And why not? He don't fight with no spear, you know. Never has. So where do you think he got that name? Har!\"\n\nJon had to laugh. Even now, even here. Ygritte had been fond of Longspear Ryk. He hoped he found some joy with Tormund's Munda. Someone needed to find some joy somewhere.\n\n\"You know nothing, Jon Snow,\" Ygritte would have told him. I know that I am going to die, he thought. I know that much, at least. \"All men die,\" he could almost hear her say, \"and women too, and every beast that flies or swims or runs. It's not the when o\" dying that matters, it's the how of it, Jon Snow.\" Easy for you to say, he thought back. You died brave in battle, storming the castle of a foe. I'm going to die a turncloak and a killer. Nor would his death be quick, unless it came on the end of Mance's sword."},{"from":"human","value":"Soon they were among the tents."},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was the usual wildling camp; a sprawling jumble of cookfires and piss pits, children and goats wandering freely, sheep bleating among the trees, horse hides pegged up to dry. There was no plan to it, no order, no defenses. But there were men and women and animals everywhere.\n\nMany ignored him, but for everyone who went about his business there were ten who stopped to stare; children squatting by the fires, old women in dogcarts, cave dwellers with painted faces, raiders with claws and snakes and severed heads painted on their shields, all turned to have a look. Jon saw spearwives too, their longhair streaming in the piney wind that sighed between the trees.\n\nThere were no true hills here, but Mance Rayder's white fur tent had been raised on a spot of high stony ground right on the edge of the trees. The King-beyond-the-Wall was waiting outside, his ragged red-and-black cloak blowing in the wind. Harma Dogshead was with him, Jon saw, back from her raids and feints along the Wall, and Varamyr Sixskins as well, attended by his shadowcat and two lean grey wolves.\n\nWhen they saw who the Watch had sent, Harma turned her head and spat, and one of Varamyr's wolves bared its teeth and growled. \"You must be very brave or very stupid, Jon Snow,\" Mance Rayder said, \"to comeback to us wearing a black cloak.\"\n\n\"What else would a man of the Night's Watch wear?\"\n\n\"Kill him,\" urged Harma. \"Send his body backup in that cage o'theirs and tell them to send us someone else. I'll keep his head for my standard. A turncloak's worse than a dog.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I warned you he was false.\" Varamyr's tone was mild, but his shadow-cat was staring at Jon hungrily through slitted grey eyes. \"I never did like the smell o\" him.\"\n\n\"Pull in your claws, beastling.\" Tormund Giantsbane swung down off his horse. \"The lad's hereto hear. You lay a paw on him, might be I'll take me that shadowskin cloak I been wanting.\"\n\n\"Tormund Crowlover,\" Harma sneered. \"You area great sack o' wind, old man.\"\n\nThe skinchanger was grey-faced, round-shouldered, and bald, a mouse of a man with a wolfling's eyes. \"Once a horse is broken to the saddle, any man can mount him,\" he said in a soft voice. \"Once a beast's been joined to a man, any skinchanger can slip inside and ride him. Orell was withering inside his feathers, so I took the eagle for my own. But the joining works both ways, warg. Orell lives inside me now, whispering how much he hates you. And I can soar above the Wall, and see with eagle eyes.\"\n\n\"So we know,\" said Mance. \"We know how few you were, when you stopped the turtle. We know how many came from Eastwatch. We know how your supplies have dwindled. Pitch, oil, arrows, spears. Even your stair is gone, and that cage can only lift so many. We know. And now you know we know.\" He opened the flap of the tent. \"Come inside. The rest of you, wait here.\"\n\n\"What, even me?\" said Tormund.\n\n\"Particularly you. Always.\"\n\nIt was warm within. A small fire burned beneath the smoke holes, and a brazier smouldered near the pile of furs where Dalla lay, pale and sweating. Her sister was holding her hand. Val, Jon remembered. \"I was sorry when Jarl fell,\" he told her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Val looked at him with pale grey eyes. \"He always climbed too fast.\" She was as fair as he'd remembered, slender, full-breasted, graceful even at rest, with high sharp cheekbones and a thick braid of honey-colored hair that fell to her waist.\n\n\"Dalla's time is near,\" Mance explained. \"She and Val will stay. They know what I mean to say.\"\n\nJon kept his face as still as ice. Foul enough to slay a man in his own tent under truce. Must I murder him in front of his wife as their child is being born? He closed the fingers of his sword hand. Mance was not wearing armor, but his own sword was sheathed on his left hip. And there were other weapons in the tent, daggers and dirks, a bow and a quiver of arrows, a bronze-headed spear lying beside that big black...\n\n... horn.\n\nJon sucked in his breath.\n\nA warhorn, a bloody great warhorn.\n\n\"Yes,\" Mance said. \"The Horn of Winter, that Joramun once blew to wake giants from the earth.\"\n\nThe horn was huge, eight feet along the curve and so wide at the mouth that he could have put his arm inside up to the elbow. If this came from an aurochs, it was the biggest that ever lived. At first he thought the bands around it were bronze, but when he moved closer he realized they were gold. Old gold, more brown than yellow, and graven with runes.\n\n\"Ygritte said you never found the horn.\"\n\n\"Did you think only crows could lie? I liked you well enough, fora bastard... but I never trusted you. A man needs to earn my trust.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Jon faced him."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"If you've had the Horn of Joramun all along, why haven't you used it? Why bother building turtles and sending Thenns to kill us in our beds? If this horn is all the songs say, why not just sound it and be done?\"\n\nIt was Dalla who answered him, Dalla great with child, lying on her pile of furs beside the brazier. \"We free folk know things you kneelers have forgotten. Sometimes the short road is not the safest, Jon Snow. The Horned Lord once said that sorcery is a sword without a hilt. There is no safe way to grasp it.\"\n\nMance ran a hand along the curve of the great horn. \"No mangoes hunting with only one arrow in his quiver,\" he said. \"I had hoped that Styr and Jarl would take your brothers unawares, and open the gate for us. I drew your garrison away with feints and raids and secondary attacks. Bowen Marsh swallowed that lure as I knew he would, but your band of cripples and orphans proved to be more stubborn than anticipated. Don't think you've stopped us, though. The truth is, you are too few and we are too many. I could continue the attack here and still send ten thousand men to cross the Bay of Seals on rafts and take Eastwatch from the rear. I could storm the Shadow Tower too, I know the approaches as well as any man alive. I could send men and mammoths to dig out the gates at the castles you've abandoned, all of them at once.\"\n\n\"Why don't you, then?\" Jon could have drawn Longclaw then, but he wanted to hear what the wildling had to say.\n\n\"Blood,\" said Mance Rayder. \"I'd win in the end, yes, but you'd bleed me, and my people have bled enough.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Your losses haven't been that heavy.\"\n\n\"Not at your hands.\" Mance studied Jon's face. \"You saw the Fist of the First Men. You know what happened there. You know what we are facing.\"\n\n\"The Others...\"\n\n\"They grow stronger as the days grow shorter and the nights colder. First they kill you, then they send your dead against you. The giants have not been able to stand against them, nor the Thenns, the ice river clans, the Hornfoots.\"\n\n\"Nor you?\"\n\n\"Nor me.\" There was anger in that admission, and bitterness too deep for words. \"Raymun Redbeard, Bael the Bard, Gendel and Gorne, the Horned Lord, they all came south to conquer, but I've come with my tail between my legs to hide behind your Wall.\" He touched the horn again. \"If I sound the Horn of Winter, the Wall will fall. Or so the songs would have me believe. There are those among my people who want nothing more...\"\n\n\"But once the Wallis fallen,\" Dalla said, \"what will stop the Others?\"\n\nMance gave her a fond smile. \"It's a wise woman I've found. A true queen.\" He turned back to Jon. \"Go back and tell them to open their gate and let us pass. If they do, I will give them the horn, and the Wall will stand until the end of days.\"\n\nOpen the gate and let them pass. Easy to say, but what must follow? Giants camping in the ruins of Winterfell? Cannibals in the wolfswood, chariots sweeping across the barrowlands, free folk stealing the daughters of shipwrights and silversmiths from White Harbor and fishwives off the Stony Shore? \"Are you a true king?\" Jon asked suddenly."},{"from":"human","value":"\"I've never had a crown on my head or sat my arse on a bloody throne, if that's what you're asking,\" Mance replied."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"My birth is as low as a man's can get, no septon's ever smeared my head with oils, I don't own any castles, and my queen wears furs and amber, not silk and sapphires. I am my own champion, my own fool, and my own harpist. You don't become King-beyond-the-Wall because your father was. The free folk won't follow a name, and they don't care which brother was born first. They follow fighters. When I left the Shadow Tower there were five men making noises about how they might be the stuff of kings. Tormund was one, the Magnar another. The other three I slew, when they made it plain they'd sooner fight than follow.\"\n\n\"You can kill your enemies,\" Jon said bluntly, \"but can you rule your friends? If we let your people pass, are you strong enough to make them keep the king's peace and obey the laws?\"\n\n\"Whose laws? The laws of Winterfell and King's Landing?\" Mance laughed. \"When we want laws we'll make our own. You can keep your king's justice too, and your king's taxes. I'm offering you the horn, not our freedom. We will not kneel to you.\"\n\n\"What if we refuse the offer?\" Jon had no doubt that they would. The Old Bear might at least have listened, though he would have balked at the notion of letting thirty or forty thousand wildlings loose on the Seven Kingdoms. But Alliser Thorne and Janos Slynt would dismiss the notion out of hand.\n\n\"If you refuse,\" Mance Rayder said, \"Tormund Giantsbane will sound the Horn of Winter three days hence, at dawn.\"\n\nHe could carry the message back to Castle Black and tell them of the horn, but if he left Mance still alive Lord Janos and Ser Alliser would seize on that as proof that he was a turncloak. A thousand thoughts flickered through Jon's head. If I can destroy the horn, smash it here and now... but before he could begin to think that through, he heard the low moan of some other horn, made faint by the tent's hide walls. Mance heard it too. Frowning, he went to the door. Jon followed."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The warhorn was louder outside. Its call had stirred the wildling camp. Three Hornfoot men jogged past, carrying long spears. Horses were whinnying and snorting, giants roaring in the Old Tongue, and even the mammoths were restless.\n\n\"Outrider's horn,\" Tormund told Mance.\n\n\"Something's coming.\" Varamyr sat crosslegged on the half-frozen ground, his wolves circled restlessly around him. A shadow swept over him, and Jon looked up to seethe eagle's blue-grey wings. \"Coming, from the east.\"\n\nWhen the dead walk, walls and stakes and swords mean nothing, he remembered. You cannot fight the dead, Jon Snow. No man knows that half so well as me.\n\nHarma scowled. \"East? The wights should be behind us.\"\n\n\"East,\" the skinchanger repeated. \"Something's coming.\"\n\n\"The Others?\" Jon asked.\n\nMance shook his head. \"The Others never come when the sun is up.\" Chariots were rattling across the killing ground, jammed with riders waving spears of sharpened bone. The king groaned. \"Where the bloody hell do they think they're going? Quenn, get those fools back where they belong. Someone bring my horse. The mare, not the stallion. I'll want my armor too.\" Mance glanced suspiciously at the Wall. Atop the icy parapets, the straw soldiers stood collecting arrows, but there was no sign of any other activity. \"Harma, mount up your raiders. Tormund, find your sons and give me a triple line of spears.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Tormund, striding off."},{"from":"human","value":"The mousy little skinchanger closed his eyes and said, \"I see them."},{"from":"gpt","value":"They're coming along the streams and game trails...\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Men. Men on horses. Men in steel and men in black.\"\n\n\"Crows.\" Mance made the word a curse. He turned on Jon. \"Did my old brothers think they'd catch me with my breeches down if they attacked while we were talking?\"\n\n\"If they planned an attack they never told me about it.\" Jon did not believe it. Lord Janos lacked the men to attack the wildling camp. Besides, he was on the wrong side of the Wall, and the gate was sealed with rubble. He had a different sort of treachery in mind, this can't be his work.\n\n\"If you're lying tome again, you won't be leaving here alive,\" Mance warned. His guards brought him his horse and armor. Elsewhere around the camp, Jon saw people running at cross purposes, some men forming up as if to storm the Wall while others slipped into the woods, women driving dogcarts east, mammoths wandering west. He reached back over his shoulder and drew Longclaw just as a thin line of rangers emerged from the fringes of the wood three hundred yards away. They wore blackmail, black halfhelms, and black cloaks. Half-armored, Mance drew his sword. \"You knew nothing of this, did you?\" he said to Jon, coldly.\n\nSlow as honey on a cold morning, the rangers swept down on the wildling camp, picking their way through clumps of gorse and stands of trees, over roots and rocks. Wildlings flew to meet them, shouting war cries and waving clubs and bronze swords and axes made of flint, galloping headlong at their ancient enemies. A shout, a slash, and a fine brave death, Jon had heard brothers say of the free folk's way of fighting."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Believe what you will,\" Jon told the King-beyond-the-Wall, \"but I knew nothing of any attack.\"\n\nHarma thundered past before Mance could reply, riding at the head of thirty raiders. Her standard went before her; a dead dog impaled on a spear, raining blood at every stride. Mance watched as she smashed into the rangers. \"Might be you're telling it true,\" he said. \"Those look like Eastwatch men. Sailors on horses. Cotter Pyke always had more guts than sense. He took the Lord of Bones at Long Barrow, he might have thought to do the same with me. If so, he's a fool. He doesn't have the men, he-\"\n\n\"Mance!\" the shout came. It was a scout, bursting from the trees on a lathered horse. \"Mance, there's more, they're all around us, iron men, iron, a host of iron men.\"\n\nCursing, Mance swung up into the saddle. \"Varamyr, stay and see that no harm comes to Dalla.\" The King-beyond-the-Wall pointed his sword at Jon. \"And keep a few extra eyes on this crow. If he runs, rip out his throat.\"\n\n\"Aye, I'll do that.\" The skinchanger was ahead shorter than Jon, slumped and soft, but that shadowcat could disembowel him with one paw. \"They're coming from the north too,\" Varamyr told Mance. \"You best go.\"\n\nMance donned his helm with its raven wings. His men were mounted up as well. \"Arrowhead,\" Mance snapped, \"tome, form wedge.\" Yet when he slammed his heels into the mare and flew across the field at the rangers, the men who raced to catch him lost all semblance of formation."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jon took a step toward the tent, thinking of the Horn of Winter, but the shadowcat blocked him, tail lashing. The beast's nostrils flared, and slaver ran from his curved front teeth. He smells my fear. He missed Ghost more than ever then. The two wolves were behind him, growling.\n\n\"Banners,\" he heard Varamyr murmur, \"I see golden banners, oh...\" A mammoth lumbered by, trumpeting, a half-dozen bowmen in the wooden tower on its back. \"The king... no...\"\n\nThen the skinchanger threw back his head and screamed.\n\nThe sound was shocking, ear-piercing, thick with agony. Varamyr fell, writhing, and the 'cat was screaming too... and high, high in the eastern sky, against the wall of cloud, Jon saw the eagle burning. Fora heartbeat it flamed brighter than a star, wreathed in red and gold and orange, its wings beating wildly at the air as if it could fly from the pain. Higher it flew, and higher, and higher still.\n\nThe scream brought Val out of the tent, white-faced. \"What is it, what's happened?\" Varamyr's wolves were fighting each other, and the shadowcat had raced off into the trees, but the man was still twisting on the ground. \"What's wrong with him?\" Val demanded, horrified. \"Where's Mance?\"\n\n\"There.\" Jon pointed. \"Gone to fight.\" The king led his ragged wedge into a knot of rangers, his sword flashing.\n\n\"Gone? He can't begone, not now. It's started.\"\n\n\"The battle?\" He watched the rangers scatter before Harma's bloody dog's head. The raiders screamed and hacked and chased the men in black back into the trees. But there were more men coming from the wood, a column of horse. Knights on heavy horse, Jon saw. Harma had to regroup and wheel to meet them, but half of her men had raced too far ahead."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The birth!\" Val was shouting at him.\n\nTrumpets were blowing all around, loud and brazen. The wildlings have no trumpets, only warhorns. They knew that as well as he did; the sound sent free folk running in confusion, some toward the fighting, others away. A mammoth was stomping through a flock of sheep that three men were trying to herd off west. The drums were beating as the wildlings ran to form squares and lines, but they were too late, too disorganized, too slow. The enemy was emerging from the forest, from the east, the northeast, the north; three great columns of heavy horse, all dark glinting steel and bright wool surcoats. Not the men of Eastwatch, those had been no more than a line of scouts. An army. The king? Jon was as confused as the wildlings. Could Robb have returned? Had the boy on the Iron Throne finally bestirred himself? \"You best get back inside the tent,\" he told Val.\n\nAcross the field one column had washed over Harma Dogshead. Another smashed into the flank of Tormund's spearmen as he and his sons desperately tried to turn them. The giants were climbing onto their mammoths, though, and the knights on their barded horses did not like that at all; he could see how the coursers and destriers screamed and scattered at the sight of those lumbering mountains. But there was fear on the wildling side as well, hundreds of women and children rushing away from the battle, some of them blundering right under the hooves of garrons. He saw an old woman's dogcart veer into the path of three chariots, to send them crashing into each other.\n\n\"Gods,\" Val whispered, \"gods, why are they doing this?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Go inside the tent and stay with Dalla. It's not safe out here.\" It wouldn't be a great deal safer inside, but she didn't need to hear that.\n\n\"I need to find the midwife,\" Val said.\n\n\"You're the midwife. I'll stay here until Mance comes back.\" He had lost sight of Mance but now he found him again, cutting his way through a knot of mounted men. The mammoths had shattered the center column, but the other two were closing like pincers. On the eastern edge of the camps, some archers were loosing fire arrows at the tents. He saw a mammoth pluck a knight from his saddle and fling him forty feet with a flick of its trunk. Wildlings streamed past, women and children running from the battle, some with men hurrying them along. A few of them gave Jon dark looks but Longclaw was in his hand, and no one troubled him. Even Varamyr fled, crawling off on his hands and knees.\n\nMore and more men were pouring from the trees, not only knights now but freeriders and mounted bowmen and men-at-arms in jacks and kettle helms, dozens of men, hundreds of men. Ablaze of banners flew above them. The wind was whipping them too wildly for Jon to seethe sigils, but he glimpsed a seahorse, afield of birds, a ring of flowers. And yellow, so much yellow, yellow banners with a red device, whose arms were those?\n\nEast and north and northeast, he saw bands of wildlings trying to stand and fight, but the attackers rode right over them. The free folk still had the numbers, but the attackers had steel armor and heavy horses. In the thickest part of the fray, Jon saw Mance standing tall in his stirrups. His red-and-black cloak and raven-winged helm made him easy to pick out. He had his sword raised and men were rallying to him when a wedge of knights smashed into them with lance and sword and longaxe. Mance's mare went upon her hind legs, kicking, and a spear took her through the breast. Then the steel tide washed over him."},{"from":"human","value":"It's done, Jon thought, they're breaking."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The wildlings were running, throwing down their weapons, Hornfoot men and cave dwellers and Thenns in bronze scales, they were running. Mance was gone, someone was waving Harma's head on a pole, Tormund's lines had broken. Only the giants on their mammoths were holding, hairy islands in a red steel sea. The fires were leaping from tent to tent and some of the tall pines were going up as well. And through the smoke another wedge of armored riders came, on barded horses. Floating above them were the largest banners yet, royal standards as big as sheets; a yellow one with long pointed tongues that showed a flaming heart, and another like a sheet of beaten gold, with a black stag prancing and rippling in the wind.\n\nRobert, Jon thought for one mad moment, remembering poor Owen, but when the trumpets blew again and the knights charged, the name they cried was'Stannis! Stannis! STANNIS!\"\n\nJon turned away, and went inside the tent."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 74\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"JAIME\\n\\nThe king sat at the head of the table, a stack of cushions under his arse, signing each document as it was presented to him.\\n\\n\\\"Only a few more, Your Grace,\\\" Ser Kevan Lannister assured him. \\\"This is a bill of attainder against Lord Edmure Tully, stripping him of Riverrun and all its lands and incomes, for rebelling against his lawful king. This is a similar attainder, against his uncle Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish.\\\" Tommen signed them one after the other, dipping the quill carefully and writing his name in abroad childish hand.\\n\\nJaime watched from the foot of the table, thinking of all those lords who aspired to a seat on the king's small council. They can bloody well have mine. If this was power, why did it taste like tedium? He did not feel especially powerful, watching Tommen dip his quill in the inkpot again. He felt bored.\\n\\nAnd sore. Every muscle in his body ached, and his ribs and shoulders were bruised from the battering they'd gotten, courtesy of Ser Addam Marbrand. Just thinking of it made him wince. He could only hope the man would keep his mouth shut. Jaime had known Marbrand since he was a boy, serving as a page at Casterly Rock; he trusted him as much as he trusted anyone. Enough to ask him to take up shields and tourney swords. He had wanted to know if he could fight with his left hand.\\n\\nAnd now I do. The knowledge was more painful than the beating that Ser Addam had given him, and the beating was so bad he could hardly dress himself this morning. If they had been fighting in earnest, Jaime would have died two dozen deaths. It seemed so simple, changing hands. It wasn't. Every instinct he had was wrong. He had to think about everything, where once he'd just moved. And while he was thinking, Marbrand was thumping him. His left hand couldn't even seem to hold a longsword properly; Ser Addam had disarmed him thrice, sending his blade spinning.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"This grants said lands, incomes, and castle to Ser Emmon Frey and his lady wife, Lady Genna.\\\" Ser Kevan presented another sheaf of parchments to the king. Tommen dipped and signed. \\\"This is a decree of legitimacy fora natural son of Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort. And this names Lord Bolton your Warden of the North.\\\" Tommen dipped, signed, dipped, signed. \\\"This grants Ser Rolph Spicer title to the castle Castamere and raises him to the rank of lord.\\\" Tommen scrawled his name.\\n\\nI should have gone to Ser Ilyn Payne, Jaime reflected. The King's Justice was not a friend as Marbrand was, and might well have beat him bloody... but without a tongue, he was not like to boast of it afterward. All it would take would be one chance remark by Ser Addam in his cups, and the whole world would soon know how useless he'd become. Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. It was a cruel jape, that... though not quite so cruel as the gift his father had sent him.\\n\\n\\\"This is your royal pardon for Lord Gawen Westerling, his lady wife, and his daughter Jeyne, welcoming them back into the king's peace,\\\" Ser Kevan said. \\\"This is a pardon for Lord Jonos Bracken of Stone Hedge. This is a pardon for Lord Vance. This for Lord Goodbrook. This for Lord Mooton of Maidenpool.\\\"\\n\\nJaime pushed himself to his feet. \\\"You seem to have these matters well in hand, Uncle. I shall leave His Grace to you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you wish.\\\" Ser Kevan rose as well. \\\"Jaime, you should go to your father. This breach between you-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"-is his doing. Nor will he mend it by sending me mocking gifts. Tell him that, if you can pry him away from the Tyrells long enough.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His uncle looked distressed. \\\"The gift was heartfelt. We thought that it might encourage you-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"-to grow anew hand?\\\" Jaime turned to Tommen. Though he had Joffrey's golden curls and green eyes, the new king shared little else with his late brother. He inclined to plumpness, his face was pink and round, and he even liked to read. He is still shy of nine, this son of mine. The boy is not the man. It would be seven years before Tommen was ruling in his own right. Until then the realm would remain firmly in the hands of his lord grandfather. \\\"Sire,\\\" he asked, \\\"do I have your leave to go?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you like, Ser Uncle.\\\" Tommen looked back to Ser Kevan. \\\"Can I seal them now, Great-Uncle?\\\" Pressing his royal seal into the hot wax was his favorite part of being king, so far.\\n\\nJaime strode from the council chamber. Outside the door he found Ser Meryn Trant standing stiff at guard in white scale armor and snowy cloak. If this one should learn how feeble I am, or Kettleblack or Blount should hear of it...\\\"Remain here until His Grace is done,\\\" he said, \\\"then escort him back to Maegor's.\\\"\\n\\nTrant inclined his head. \\\"As you say, my lord.\\\"\\n\\nThe outer ward was crowded and noisy that morning. Jaime made for the stables, where a large group of men were saddling their horses. \\\"Steelshanks!\\\" he called. \\\"Are you off, then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As soon as m'lady is mounted,\\\" said Steelshanks Walton. \\\"My lord of Bolton expects us. Here she is now.\\\"\\n\\nA groom led a fine grey mare out the stable door. On her back was mounted a skinny hollow-eyed girl wrapped in a heavy cloak. Grey, it was, like the dress beneath it, and trimmed with white satin. The clasp that pinned it to her breast was wrought in the shape of a wolf's head with slitted opal eyes. The girl's long brown hair blew wild in the wind. She had a pretty face, he thought, but her eyes were sad and wary.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When she saw him, she inclined her head. \\\"Ser Jaime,\\\" she said in a thin anxious voice. \\\"You are kind to see me off.\\\"\\n\\nJaime studied her closely. \\\"You know me, then?\\\"\\n\\nShe bit her lip. \\\"You may not recall, my lord, as I was littler then... but I had the honor to meet you at Winterfell when King Robert came to visit my father Lord Eddard.\\\" She lowered her big brown eyes and mumbled, \\\"I'm Arya Stark.\\\"\\n\\nJaime had never paid much attention to Arya Stark, but it seemed to him that this girl was older. \\\"I understand you're to be married.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am towed Lord Bolton's son, Ramsay. He used to be a Snow, but His Grace has made him a Bolton. They say he's very brave. I am so happy.\\\"\\n\\nThen why do you sound so frightened? \\\"I wish you joy, my lady.\\\" Jaime turned back to Steelshanks. \\\"You have the coin you were promised?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye, and we've shared it out. You have my thanks.\\\" The northman grinned. \\\"A Lannister always pays his debts.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Always,\\\" said Jaime, with a last glance at the girl. He wondered if there was much resemblance. Not that it mattered. The real Arya Stark was buried in some unmarked grave in Flea Bottom in all likelihood. With her brothers dead, and both parents, who would dare name this one a fraud? \\\"Good speed,\\\" he told Steelshanks. Nage raised his peace banner, and the northmen formed a column as ragged as their fur cloaks and trotted out the castle gate. The thin girl on the grey mare looked small and forlorn in their midst.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A few of the horses still shied away from the dark splotch on the hard-packed ground where the earth had drunk the life's blood of the stableboy Gregor Clegane had killed so clumsily. The sight of it made Jaime angry allover again. He had told his Kingsguard to keep the crowd out of the way, but that oaf Ser Boros had let himself be distracted by the duel. The fool boy himself shared some of the blame, to be sure; the dead Dornishman as well. And Clegane most of all. The blow that took the boy's arm off had been mischance, but that second cut...\\n\\nWell, Gregor is paying for it now. Grand Maester Pycelle was tending to the man's wounds, but the howls heard ringing from the maester's chambers suggested that the healing was not going as well as it might. \\\"The flesh mortifies and the wounds ooze pus,\\\" Pycelle told the council. \\\"Even maggots will not touch such foulness. His convulsions are so violent that I have had to gag him to prevent him from biting off his tongue. I have cutaway as much tissue as I dare, and treated the rot with boiling wine and bread mold, to no avail. The veins in his arm are turning black. When I leeched him, all the leeches died. My lords, I must know what malignant substance Prince Oberyn used on his spear. Let us detain these other Dornishmen until they are more forthcoming.\\\"\\n\\nLord Tywin had refused him. \\\"There will be trouble enough with Sunspear over Prince Oberyn's death. I do not mean to make matters worse by holding his companions captive.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then I fear Ser Gregor may die.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Undoubtedly. I swore as much in the letter I sent to Prince Doran with his brother's body. But it must be seen to be the sword of the King's Justice that slays him, not a poisoned spear. Heal him.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Grand Maester Pycelle blinked in dismay. \\\"My lord-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Heal him,\\\" Lord Tywin said again, vexed. \\\"You are aware that Lord Varys has sent fishermen into the waters around Dragonstone. They report that only a token force remains to defend the island. The Lyseni are gone from the bay, and the great part of Lord Stannis's strength with them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Welland good,\\\" announced Pycelle. \\\"Let Stannis rot in Lys, I say. We are well rid of the man and his ambitions.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did you turn into an utter fool when Tyrion shaved your beard? This is Stannis Baratheon. The man will fight to the bitter end and then some. If he is gone, it can only mean he intends to resume the war. Most likely he will land at Storm's End and try and rouse the storm lords. If so, he's finished. But a bolder man might roll the dice for Dorne. If he should win Sunspear to his cause, he might prolong this war for years. So we will not offend the Martells any further, for any reason. The Dornishmen are free to go, and you will heal Ser Gregor.\\\"\\n\\nAnd so the Mountain screamed, day and night. Lord Tywin Lannister could cow even the Stranger, it would seem.\\n\\nAs Jaime climbed the winding steps of White Sword Tower, he could hear Ser Boros snoring in his cell. Ser Balon's door was shut as well; he had the king tonight, and would sleep all day. Aside from Blount's snores, the tower was very quiet. That suited Jaime well enough. I ought to rest myself. Last night, after his dance with Ser Addam, he'd been too sore to sleep.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But when he stepped into his bedchamber, he found his sister waiting for him.\\n\\nShe stood beside the open window, looking over the curtain walls and out to sea. The bay wind swirled around her, flattening her gown against her body in away that quickened Jaime's pulse. It was white, that gown, like the hangings on the wall and the draperies on his bed. Swirls of tiny emeralds brightened the ends of her wide sleeves and spiraled down her bodice. Larger emeralds were set in the golden spiderweb that bound her golden hair. The gown was cut low, to bare her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. She is so beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms.\\n\\n\\\"Cersei.\\\" He closed the door softly. \\\"Why are you here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where else could I go?\\\" When she turned to him there were tears in her eyes. \\\"Father's made it clear that I am no longer wanted on the council. Jaime, won't you talk to him?\\\"\\n\\nJaime took off his cloak and hung it from a peg on the wall. \\\"I talk to Lord Tywin everyday.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Must you be so stubborn? All he wants...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"... is to force me from the Kingsguard and send me back to Casterly Rock.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That need not be so terrible. He is sending me back to Casterly Rock as well. He wants me faraway, so he'll have a freehand with Tommen. Tommen is my son, not his!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tommen is the king.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is a boy! A frightened little boy who saw his brother murdered at his own wedding. And now they are telling him that he must marry. The girl is twice his age and twice a widow!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He eased himself into a chair, trying to ignore the ache of bruised muscles.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The Tyrells are insisting. I see no harm in it. Tommen's been lonely since Myrcella went to Dorne. He likes having Margaery and her ladies about. Let them wed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is your son...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is my seed. He's never called me Father. No more than Joffrey ever did. You warned me a thousand times never to show any undue interest in them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To keep them safe! You as well. How would it have looked if my brother had played the father to the king's children? Even Robert might have grown suspicious.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, he's beyond suspicion now.\\\" Robert's death still left a bitter taste in Jaime's mouth. It should have been me who killed him, not Cersei. \\\"I only wished he'd died at my hands.\\\" When I still had two of them. \\\"If I'd let kingslaying become a habit, as he liked to say, I could have taken you as my wife for all the world to see. I'm not ashamed of loving you, only of the things I've done to hide it. That boy at Winterfell...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did I tell you to throw him out the window? If you'd gone hunting as I begged you, nothing would have happened. But no, you had to have me, you could not wait until we returned to the city.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'd waited long enough. I hated watching Robert stumble to your bed every night, always wondering if maybe this night he'd decide to claim his rights as husband.\\\" Jaime suddenly remembered something else that troubled him about Winterfell. \\\"At Riverrun, Catelyn Stark seemed convinced I'd sent some footpad to slither son's throat. That I'd given him a dagger.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That,\\\" she said scornfully. \\\"Tyrion asked me about that.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There was a dagger.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The scars on Lady Catelyn's hands were real enough, she showed them tome. Did you...?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, don't be absurd.\\\" Cersei closed the window. \\\"Yes, I hoped the boy would die. So did you. Even Robert thought that would have been for the best.\\\"We kill our horses when they break a leg, and our dogs when they go blind, but we are too weak to give the same mercy to crippled children, ' he told me. He was blind himself at the time, from drink.\\\"\\n\\nRobert? Jaime had guarded the king long enough to know that Robert Baratheon said things in his cups that he would have denied angrily the next day. \\\"Were you alone when Robert said this?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You don't think he said it to Ned Stark, I hope? Of course we were alone. Us and the children.\\\" Cersei removed her hairnet and draped it over a bedpost, then shook out her golden curls. \\\"Perhaps Myrcella sent this man with the dagger, do you think so?\\\"\\n\\nIt was meant as mockery, but she'd cut right to the heart of it, Jaime saw at once. \\\"Not Myrcella. Joffrey.\\\"\\n\\nCersei frowned. \\\"Joffrey had no love for Robb Stark, but the younger boy was nothing to him. He was only a child himself.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A child hungry fora pat on the head from that sot you let him believe was his father.\\\" He had an uncomfortable thought. \\\"Tyrion almost died because of this bloody dagger. If he knew the whole thing was Joffrey's work, that might be why...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't care why,\\\" Cersei said. \\\"He can take his reasons down to hell with him. If you had seen how Joff died... he fought, Jaime, he fought for every breath, but it was as if some malign spirit had its hands about his throat. He had such terror in his eyes... When he was little, he'd run tome when he was scared or hurt and I would protect him. But that night there was nothing I could do. Tyrion murdered him in front of me, and there was nothing I could do.\\\" Cersei sank to her knees before his chair and took Jaime's good hand between both of hers. \\\"Joff is dead and Myrcella's in Dorne. Tommen's all I have left. You mustn't let Father take him from me. Jaime, please.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Lord Tywin has not asked for my approval. I can talk to him, but he will not listen...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He will if you agree to leave the Kingsguard.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm not leaving the Kingsguard.\\\"\\n\\nHis sister fought back tears. \\\"Jaime, you're my shining knight. You cannot abandon me when I need you most! He is stealing my son, sending me away... and unless you stop him, Father is going to force me towed again!\\\"\\n\\nJaime should not have been surprised, but he was. The words were a blow to his gut harder than any that Ser Addam Marbrand had dealt him. \\\"Who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Does it matter? Some lord or other. Someone Father thinks he needs. I don't care. I will not have another husband. You are the only man I want in my bed, ever again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then tell him that!\\\"\\n\\nShe pulled her hands away. \\\"You are talking madness again. Would you have us ripped apart, as Mother did that time she caught us playing? Tommen would lose the throne, Myrcella her marriage... I want to be your wife, we belong to each other, but it can never be, Jaime. We are brother and sister.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Targaryens...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We are not Targaryens!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Quiet,\\\" he said, scornfully. \\\"So loud, you'll wake my Sworn Brothers. We can't have that, now, can we? People might learn that you had come to see me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Jaime,\\\" she sobbed, \\\"don't you think I want it as much as you do? It makes no matter who they wed me to, I want you at my side, I want you in my bed, I want you inside me. Nothing has changed between us. Let me prove it to you.\\\" She pushed up his tunic and began to fumble with the laces of his breeches.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jaime felt himself responding. \\\"No,\\\" he said, \\\"not here.\\\" They had never done it in White Sword Tower, much less in the Lord Commander's chambers. \\\"Cersei, this is not the place.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You took me in the sept. This is no different.\\\" She drew out his cock and bent her head over it.\\n\\nJaime pushed her away with the stump of his right hand. \\\"No. Not here, I said.\\\" He forced himself to stand.\\n\\nFor an instant he could see confusion in her bright green eyes, and fear as well. Then rage replaced it. Cersei gathered herself together, got to her feet, straightened her skirts. \\\"Was it your hand they hacked off in Harrenhal, or your manhood?\\\" As she shook her head, her hair tumbled around her bare white shoulders. \\\"I was a fool to come. You lacked the courage to avenge Joffrey, why would I think that you'd protect Tommen? Tell me, if the Imp had killed all three of your children, would that have made you wroth?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tyrion is not going to harm Tommen or Myrcella. I am still not certain he killed Joffrey.\\\"\\n\\nHer mouth twisted in anger. \\\"How can you say that? After all his threats-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Threats mean nothing. He swears he did not do it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, he swears, is that it? And dwarfs don't lie, is that what you think?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not tome. No more than you would.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You great golden fool. He's lied to you a thousand times, and so have I.\\\" She bound up her hair again, and scooped up the hairnet from the bedpost where she'd hung it. \\\"Think what you will. The little monster is in a black cell, and soon Ser Ilyn will have his head off. Perhaps you'd like it fora keepsake.\\\" She glanced at the pillow. \\\"He can watch over you as you sleep alone in that cold white bed. Until his eyes rot out, that is.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You had best go, Cersei. You're making me angry.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, an angry cripple. How terrifying.\\\" She laughed. \\\"A pity Lord Tywin Lannister never had a son. I could have been the heir he wanted, but I lacked the cock. And speaking of such, best tuck yours away, brother. It looks rather sad and small, hanging from your breeches like that.\\\"\\n\\nWhen she was gone Jaime took her advice, fumbling one-handed at his laces. He felt a bone-deep ache in his phantom fingers. I've lost a hand, a father, a son, a sister, and a lover, and soon enough I will lose a brother. And yet they keep telling me House Lannister won this war.\\n\\nJaime donned his cloak and went downstairs, where he found Ser Boros Blount having a cup of wine in the common room. \\\"When you're done with your drink, tell Ser Loras I'm ready to see her.\\\"\\n\\nSer Boros was too much of a coward to do much more than glower. \\\"You are ready to see who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just tell Loras.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye.\\\" Ser Boros drained his cup. \\\"Aye, Lord Commander.\\\"\\n\\nHe took his own good time about it, though, or else the Knight of Flowers proved hard to find. Several hours had passed by the time they arrived, the slim handsome youth and the big ugly maid. Jaime was sitting alone in the round room, leafing idly through the White Book. \\\"Lord Commander,\\\" Ser Loras said, \\\"you wished to seethe Maid of Tarth?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I did.\\\" Jaime waved them closer with his left hand. \\\"You have talked with her, I take it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"As you commanded, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And?\\\"\\n\\nThe lad tensed. \\\"I... it maybe it happened as she says, ser. That it was Stannis. I cannot be certain.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Varys tells me that the castellan of Storm's End perished strangely as well,\\\" said Jaime.\\n\\n\\\"Ser Cortnay Penrose,\\\" said Brienne sadly. \\\"A good man.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A stubborn man. One day he stood square in the way of the King of Dragonstone. The next he leapt from a tower.\\\" Jaime stood. \\\"Ser Loras, we will talk more of this later. You may leave Brienne with me.\\\"\\n\\nThe wench looked as ugly and awkward as ever, he decided when Tyrell left them. Someone had dressed her in woman's clothes again, but this dress fit much better than that hideous pink rag the goat had made her wear. \\\"Blue is a good color on you, my lady,\\\" Jaime observed. \\\"It goes well with your eyes.\\\" She does have astonishing eyes.\\n\\nBrienne glanced down at herself, flustered. \\\"Septa Donyse padded out the bodice, to give it that shape. She said you sent her tome.\\\" She lingered by the door, as if she meant to flee at any second. \\\"You look...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Different?\\\" He managed a half-smile. \\\"More meat on the ribs and fewer lice in my hair, that's all. The stump's the same. Close the door and come here.\\\"\\n\\nShe did as he bid her. \\\"The white cloak...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"... is new, but I'm sure I'll soil it soon enough.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That wasn't... I was about to say that it becomes you.\\\"\\n\\nShe came closer, hesitant. \\\"Jaime, did you mean what you told Ser Loras? About... about King Renly, and the shadow?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jaime shrugged. \\\"I would have killed Renly myself if we'd met in battle, what do I care who cut his throat?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You said I had honor...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm the bloody Kingslayer, remember? When I say you have honor, that's like a whore vouchsafing your maidenhood.\\\" He leaned back and looked up at her. \\\"Steelshanks is on his way back north, to deliver Arya Stark to Roose Bolton.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You gave her to him?\\\" she cried, dismayed. \\\"You swore an oath to Lady Catelyn...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"With a sword at my throat, but never mind. Lady Catelyn's dead. I could not give her back her daughters even if I had them. And the girl my father sent with Steelshanks was not Arya Stark.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not Arya Stark?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You heard me. My lord father found some skinny northern girl more or less the same age with more or less the same coloring. He dressed her up in white and grey, gave her a silver wolf to pin her cloak, and sent her off towed Bolton's bastard.\\\" He lifted his stump to point at her. \\\"I wanted to tell you that before you went galloping off to rescue her and got yourself killed for no good purpose. You're not half bad with a sword, but you're not good enough to take on two hundred men by yourself.\\\"\\n\\nBrienne shook her head. \\\"When Lord Bolton learns that your father paid him with false coin...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, he knows. Lannisters lie, remember? It makes no matter, this girl serves his purpose just as well. Who is going to say that she isn't Arya Stark? Everyone the girl was close to is dead except for her sister, who has disappeared.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Why would you tell me all this, if it's true? You are betraying your father's secrets.\\\"\\n\\nThe Hand's secrets, he thought. I no longer have a father. \\\"I pay my debts like every good little lion. I did promise Lady Stark her daughters... and one of them is still alive. My brother may know where she is, but if so he isn't saying. Cersei is convinced that Sansa helped him murder Joffrey.\\\"\\n\\nThe wench's mouth got stubborn. \\\"I will not believe that gentle girl a poisoner. Lady Catelyn said that she had a loving heart. It was your brother. There was atrial, Ser Loras said.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Two trials, actually. Words and swords both failed him. A bloody mess. Did you watch from your window?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My cell faces the sea. I heard the shouting, though.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Prince Oberyn of Dorne is dead, Ser Gregor Clegane lies dying, and Tyrion stands condemned before the eyes of gods and men. They're keeping him in a black cell till they kill him.\\\"\\n\\nBrienne looked at him. \\\"You do not believe he did it.\\\"\\n\\nJaime gave her a hard smile. \\\"See, wench? We know each other too well. Tyrion's wanted to be me since he took his first step, but he'd never follow me in kingslaying. Sansa Stark killed Joffrey. My brother's kept silent to protect her. He gets these fits of gallantry from time to time. The last one cost him a nose. This time it will mean his head.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Brienne said. \\\"It was not my lady's daughter. It could not have been her.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There's the stubborn stupid wench that I remember.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She reddened. \\\"My name is...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Brienne of Tarth.\\\" Jaime sighed. \\\"I have a gift for you.\\\" He reached down under the Lord Commander's chair and brought it out, wrapped in folds of crimson velvet.\\n\\nBrienne approached as if the bundle was like to bite her, reached out a huge freckled hand, and flipped back a fold of cloth. Rubies glimmered in the light. She picked the treasure up gingerly, curled her fingers around the leather grip, and slowly slid the sword free of its scabbard. Blood and black the ripples shone. A finger of reflected light ran red along the edge. \\\"Is this Valyrian steel? I have never seen such colors.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nor I. There was a time that I would have given my right hand to wield a sword like that. Now it appears I have, so the blade is wasted on me. Take it.\\\" Before she could think to refuse, he went on. \\\"A sword so fine must bear a name. It would please me if you would call this one Oathkeeper. One more thing. The blade comes with a price.\\\"\\n\\nHer face darkened. \\\"I told you, I will never serve...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"... such foul creatures as us. Yes, I recall. Hear me out, Brienne. Both of us swore oaths concerning Sansa Stark. Cersei means to see that the girl is found and killed, wherever she has gone to ground...\\\"\\n\\nBrienne's homely face twisted in fury. \\\"If you believe that I would harm my lady's daughter fora sword, you-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just listen,\\\" he snapped, angered by her assumption. \\\"I want you to find Sansa first, and get her somewhere safe. How else are the two of us going to make good our stupid vows to your precious dead Lady Catelyn?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The wench blinked.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I... I thought...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know what you thought.\\\" Suddenly Jaime was sick of the sight of her. She bleats like a bloody sheep. \\\"When Ned Stark died, his greatsword was given to the King's Justice,\\\" he told her. \\\"But my father felt that such a fine blade was wasted on a mere headsman. He gave Ser Ilyn anew sword, and had Ice melted down and reforged. There was enough metal for two new blades. You're holding one. So you'll be defending Ned Stark's daughter with Ned Stark's own steel, if that makes any difference to you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ser, I... I owe you an apolo...\\\"\\n\\nHe cut her off. \\\"Take the bloody sword and go, before I change my mind. There's a bay mare in the stables, as homely as you are but somewhat better trained. Chase after Steelshanks, search for Sansa, or ride home to your isle of sapphires, it's naught tome. I don't want to look at you anymore.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Jaime...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kingslayer,\\\" he reminded her. \\\"Best use that sword to clean the wax out of your ears, wench. We're done.\\\"\\n\\nStubbornly, she persisted. \\\"Joffrey was your...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My king. Leave it at that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You say Sansa killed him. Why protect her?\\\"\\n\\nBecause Joff was no more tome than a squirt of seed in Cersei's cunt. And because he deserved to die. \\\"I have made kings and unmade them. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor.\\\" Jaime smiled thinly. \\\"Besides, kingslayers should band together. Are you ever going to go?\\\"\\n\\nHer big hand wrapped tight around Oathkeeper. \\\"I will. And I will find the girl and keep her safe. For her lady mother's sake. And for yours.\\\" She bowed stiffly, whirled, and went.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jaime sat alone at the table while the shadows crept across the room. As dusk began to settle, he lit a candle and opened the White Book to his own page. Quill and ink he found in a drawer. Beneath the last line Ser Barristan had entered, he wrote in an awkward hand that might have done credit to a six-year-old being taught his first letters by a maester:\\n\\nDefeated in the Whispering Wood by the Young Wolf Robb Stark during the War of the Five Kings. Held captive at Riverrun and ransomed fora promise unfulfilled. Captured again by the Brave Companions, and maimed at the word of Vargo Hoat their captain, losing his sword hand to the blade of Zollo the Fat. Returned safely to King's Landing by Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.\\n\\nWhen he was done, more than three-quarters of his page still remained to be filled between the gold lion on the crimson shield on top and the blank white shield at the bottom. Ser Gerold Hightower had begun his history, and Ser Barristan Selmy had continued it, but the rest Jaime Lannister would need to write for himself. He could write whatever he chose, henceforth.\\n\\nWhatever he chose...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"JON\\n\\nThe wind was blowing wild from the east, so strong the heavy cage would rock whenever a gust got it in its teeth. It skirled along the Wall, shivering off the ice, making Jon's cloak flap against the bars. The sky was slate grey, the sun no more than a faint patch of brightness behind the clouds. Across the killing ground, he could seethe glimmer of a thousand campfires burning, but their lights seemed small and powerless against such gloom and cold.\\n\\nA grim day. Jon Snow wrapped gloved hands around the bars and held tight as the wind hammered at the cage once more. When he looked straight down past his feet, the ground was lost in shadow, as if he were being lowered into some bottomless pit. Well, death is a bottomless pit of sorts, he reflected, and when this day's work is done my name will be shadowed forever.\\n\\nBastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous. Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb. I made a botch of that. Robb had become a hero king; if Jon was remembered at all, it would be as a turncloak, an oathbreaker, and a murderer. He was glad that Lord Eddard was not alive to see his shame.\\n\\nI should have stayed in that cave with Ygritte. If there was a life beyond this one, he hoped to tell her that. She will claw my face the way the eagle did, and curse me fora coward, but I'll tell her all the same. He flexed his sword hand, as Maester Aemon had taught him. The habit had become part of him, and he would need his fingers to be limber to have even half a chance of murdering Mance Rayder.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They had pulled him out this morning, after four days in the ice, locked up in a cell five by five by five, too low for him to stand, too tight for him to stretch out on his back. The stewards had long ago discovered that food and meat kept longer in the icy storerooms carved from the base of the Wall... but prisoners did not. \\\"You will die inhere, Lord Snow,\\\" Ser Alliser had said just before he closed the heavy wooden door, and Jon had believed it. But this morning they had come and pulled him out again, and marched him cramped and shivering back to the King's Tower, to stand before jowly Janos Slynt once more\\n\\n\\\"That old maester says I cannot hang you,\\\" Slynt declared. \\\"He has written Cotter Pyke, and even had the bloody gall to show me the letter. He says you are no turncloak.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aemon's lived too long, my lord,\\\" Ser Alliser assured him. \\\"His wits have gone dark as his eyes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Slynt said. \\\"A blind man with a chain about his neck, who does he think he is?\\\"\\n\\nAemon Targaryen, Jon thought, a king's son and a king's brother and a king who might have been. But he said nothing.\\n\\n\\\"Still,\\\" Slynt said, \\\"I will not have it said that Janos Slynt hanged a man unjustly. I will not. I have decided to give you one last chance to prove you areas loyal as you claim, Lord Snow. One last chance to do your duty, yes!\\\" He stood. \\\"Mance Rayder wants to parley with us. He knows he has no chance now that Janos Slynt has come, so he wants to talk, this King-beyond-the-Wall. But the man is craven, and will not come to us. No doubt he knows I'd hang him. Hang him by his feet from the top of the Wall, on a rope two hundred feet long! But he will not come. He asks that we send an envoy to him.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We're sending you, Lord Snow.\\\" Ser Alliser smiled.\\n\\n\\\"Me.\\\" Jon's voice was flat. \\\"Why me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You rode with these wildlings,\\\" said Thorne. \\\"Mance Rayder knows you. He will be more inclined to trust you.\\\"\\n\\nThat was so wrong Jon might have laughed. \\\"You've got it backward. Mance suspected me from the first. If I show up in his camp wearing a black cloak again and speaking for the Night's Watch, he'll know that I betrayed him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He asked for an envoy, we are sending one,\\\" said Slynt. \\\"If you are too craven to face this turncloak king, we can return you to your ice cell. This time without the furs, I think. Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No need for that, my lord,\\\" said Ser Alliser. \\\"Lord Snow will do as we ask. He wants to show us that he is no turncloak. He wants to prove himself a loyal man of the Night's Watch.\\\"\\n\\nThorne was much the more clever of the two, Jon realized; this had his stink allover it. He was trapped. \\\"I'll go,\\\" he said in a clipped, curt voice.\\n\\n\\\"M'lord,\\\" Janos Slynt reminded him. \\\"You'll address me-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll go, my lord. But you are making a mistake, my lord. You are sending the wrong man, my lord. Just the sight of me is going to anger Mance. My lord would have a better chance of reaching terms if he sent-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Terms?\\\" Ser Alliser chuckled.\\n\\n\\\"Janos Slynt does not make terms with lawless savages, Lord Snow. No, he does not.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We're not sending you to talk with Mance Rayder,\\\" Ser Alliser said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We're sending you to kill him.\\\"\\n\\nThe wind whistled through the bars, and Jon Snow shivered. His leg was throbbing, and his head. He was not fit to kill a kitten, yet here he was. The trap had teeth. With Maester Aemon insisting on Jon's innocence, Lord Janos had not dared to leave him in the ice to die. This was better. \\\"Our honor means no more than our lives, so long as the realm is safe,\\\" Qhorin Halfhand had said in the Frostfangs. He must remember that. Whether he slew Mance or only tried and failed, the free folk would kill him. Even desertion was impossible, if he'd been so inclined; to Mance he was a proven liar and betrayer.\\n\\nWhen the cage jerked to a halt, Jon swung down onto the ground and rattled Longclaw's hilt to loosen the bastard blade in its scabbard. The gate was a few yards to his left, still blocked by the splintered ruins of the turtle, the carcass of a mammoth ripening within. There were other corpses too, strewn amidst broken barrels, hardened pitch, and patches of burnt grass, all shadowed by the Wall. Jon had no wish to linger here. He started walking toward the wildling camp, past the body of a dead giant whose head had been crushed by a stone. A raven was pulling out bits of brain from the giant's shattered skull. It looked up as he walked by. \\\"Snow,\\\" it screamed at him. \\\"Snow, snow.\\\" Then it opened its wings and flew away.\\n\\nNo sooner had he started out than alone rider emerged from the wildling camp and came toward him. He wondered if Mance was coming out to parley in no-man's-land. That might make it easier, though nothing will make it easy. But as the distance between them diminished Jon saw that the horseman was short and broad, with gold rings glinting on thick arms and a white beard spreading out across his massive chest.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Har!\\\" Tormund boomed when they came together. \\\"Jon Snow the crow. I feared we'd seen the last o\\\" you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I never knew you feared anything, Tormund.\\\"\\n\\nThat made the wildling grin. \\\"Well said, lad. I see your cloak is black. Mance won't like that. If you've come to change sides again, best climb back on that Wall o' yours.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They've sent me to treat with the King-beyond-the-Wall.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Treat?\\\" Tormund laughed. \\\"Now there's a word. Har! Mance wants to talk, that's true enough. Can't say he'd want to talk with you, though.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm the one they've sent.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see that. Best come along, then. You want to ride?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can walk.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You fought us hard here.\\\" Tormund turned his garron back toward the wildling camp. \\\"You and your brothers. I give you that. Two hundred dead, and a dozen giants. Mag himself went in that gate o' yours and never did come out.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He died on the sword of a brave man named Donal Noye.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye? Some great lord was he, this Donal Noye? One of your shiny knights in their steel smallclothes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A blacksmith. He only had one arm.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A one-armed smith slew Mag the Mighty? Har! That must o'been a fight to see. Mance will make a song of it, see if he don't.\\\" Tormund took a waterskin off his saddle and pulled the cork. \\\"This will warm us some. To Donal Noye, and Mag the Mighty.\\\" He took a swing, and handed it down to Jon.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"To Donal Noye, and Mag the Mighty.\\\" The skin was full of mead, but a mead so potent that it made Jon's eyes water and sent tendrils of fire snaking through his chest. After the ice cell and the cold ride down in the cage, the warmth was welcome.\\n\\nTormund took the skin back and downed another swig, then wiped his mouth. \\\"The Magnar of Thenn swore t'us that he'd have the gate wide open, so all we'd need to do was stroll through singing. He was going to bring the whole Wall down.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He brought down part,\\\" Jon said. \\\"On his head.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Har!\\\" said Tormund. \\\"Well, I never had much use for Styr. When a man's got no beard nor hair nor ears, you can't get a good grip on him when you fight.\\\" He kept his horse at a slow walk so Jon could limp beside him. \\\"What happened to that leg?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An arrow. One of Ygritte's, I think.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's a woman for you. One day she's kissing you, the next she's filling you with arrows.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She's dead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye?\\\" Tormund gave a sad shake of the head. \\\"A waste. If I'd been ten years younger, I'd have stolen her meself. That hair she had. Well, the hottest fires burnout quickest.\\\" He lifted the skin of mead. \\\"To Ygritte, kissed by fire!\\\" He drank deep.\\n\\n\\\"To Ygritte, kissed by fire,\\\" Jon repeated when Tormund handed him back the skin. He drank even deeper.\\n\\n\\\"Was it you killed her?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My brother.\\\" Jon had never learned which one, and hoped he never would.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You bloody crows.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tormund's tone was gruff, yet strangely gentle. \\\"That Longspear stole me daughter. Munda, me little autumn apple. Took her right out o\\\" my tent with all four o'her brothers about. Toregg slept through it, the great lout, and Torwynd... well, Torwynd the Tame, that says all that needs saying, don't it? The young ones gave the lad a fight, though.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And Munda?\\\" asked Jon.\\n\\n\\\"She's my own blood,\\\" said Tormund proudly. \\\"She broke his lip for him and bit one ear half off, and I hear he's got so many scratches on his back he can't wear a cloak. She likes him well enough, though. And why not? He don't fight with no spear, you know. Never has. So where do you think he got that name? Har!\\\"\\n\\nJon had to laugh. Even now, even here. Ygritte had been fond of Longspear Ryk. He hoped he found some joy with Tormund's Munda. Someone needed to find some joy somewhere.\\n\\n\\\"You know nothing, Jon Snow,\\\" Ygritte would have told him. I know that I am going to die, he thought. I know that much, at least. \\\"All men die,\\\" he could almost hear her say, \\\"and women too, and every beast that flies or swims or runs. It's not the when o\\\" dying that matters, it's the how of it, Jon Snow.\\\" Easy for you to say, he thought back. You died brave in battle, storming the castle of a foe. I'm going to die a turncloak and a killer. Nor would his death be quick, unless it came on the end of Mance's sword.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Soon they were among the tents.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was the usual wildling camp; a sprawling jumble of cookfires and piss pits, children and goats wandering freely, sheep bleating among the trees, horse hides pegged up to dry. There was no plan to it, no order, no defenses. But there were men and women and animals everywhere.\\n\\nMany ignored him, but for everyone who went about his business there were ten who stopped to stare; children squatting by the fires, old women in dogcarts, cave dwellers with painted faces, raiders with claws and snakes and severed heads painted on their shields, all turned to have a look. Jon saw spearwives too, their longhair streaming in the piney wind that sighed between the trees.\\n\\nThere were no true hills here, but Mance Rayder's white fur tent had been raised on a spot of high stony ground right on the edge of the trees. The King-beyond-the-Wall was waiting outside, his ragged red-and-black cloak blowing in the wind. Harma Dogshead was with him, Jon saw, back from her raids and feints along the Wall, and Varamyr Sixskins as well, attended by his shadowcat and two lean grey wolves.\\n\\nWhen they saw who the Watch had sent, Harma turned her head and spat, and one of Varamyr's wolves bared its teeth and growled. \\\"You must be very brave or very stupid, Jon Snow,\\\" Mance Rayder said, \\\"to comeback to us wearing a black cloak.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What else would a man of the Night's Watch wear?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kill him,\\\" urged Harma. \\\"Send his body backup in that cage o'theirs and tell them to send us someone else. I'll keep his head for my standard. A turncloak's worse than a dog.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I warned you he was false.\\\" Varamyr's tone was mild, but his shadow-cat was staring at Jon hungrily through slitted grey eyes. \\\"I never did like the smell o\\\" him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pull in your claws, beastling.\\\" Tormund Giantsbane swung down off his horse. \\\"The lad's hereto hear. You lay a paw on him, might be I'll take me that shadowskin cloak I been wanting.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tormund Crowlover,\\\" Harma sneered. \\\"You area great sack o' wind, old man.\\\"\\n\\nThe skinchanger was grey-faced, round-shouldered, and bald, a mouse of a man with a wolfling's eyes. \\\"Once a horse is broken to the saddle, any man can mount him,\\\" he said in a soft voice. \\\"Once a beast's been joined to a man, any skinchanger can slip inside and ride him. Orell was withering inside his feathers, so I took the eagle for my own. But the joining works both ways, warg. Orell lives inside me now, whispering how much he hates you. And I can soar above the Wall, and see with eagle eyes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So we know,\\\" said Mance. \\\"We know how few you were, when you stopped the turtle. We know how many came from Eastwatch. We know how your supplies have dwindled. Pitch, oil, arrows, spears. Even your stair is gone, and that cage can only lift so many. We know. And now you know we know.\\\" He opened the flap of the tent. \\\"Come inside. The rest of you, wait here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What, even me?\\\" said Tormund.\\n\\n\\\"Particularly you. Always.\\\"\\n\\nIt was warm within. A small fire burned beneath the smoke holes, and a brazier smouldered near the pile of furs where Dalla lay, pale and sweating. Her sister was holding her hand. Val, Jon remembered. \\\"I was sorry when Jarl fell,\\\" he told her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Val looked at him with pale grey eyes. \\\"He always climbed too fast.\\\" She was as fair as he'd remembered, slender, full-breasted, graceful even at rest, with high sharp cheekbones and a thick braid of honey-colored hair that fell to her waist.\\n\\n\\\"Dalla's time is near,\\\" Mance explained. \\\"She and Val will stay. They know what I mean to say.\\\"\\n\\nJon kept his face as still as ice. Foul enough to slay a man in his own tent under truce. Must I murder him in front of his wife as their child is being born? He closed the fingers of his sword hand. Mance was not wearing armor, but his own sword was sheathed on his left hip. And there were other weapons in the tent, daggers and dirks, a bow and a quiver of arrows, a bronze-headed spear lying beside that big black...\\n\\n... horn.\\n\\nJon sucked in his breath.\\n\\nA warhorn, a bloody great warhorn.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Mance said. \\\"The Horn of Winter, that Joramun once blew to wake giants from the earth.\\\"\\n\\nThe horn was huge, eight feet along the curve and so wide at the mouth that he could have put his arm inside up to the elbow. If this came from an aurochs, it was the biggest that ever lived. At first he thought the bands around it were bronze, but when he moved closer he realized they were gold. Old gold, more brown than yellow, and graven with runes.\\n\\n\\\"Ygritte said you never found the horn.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did you think only crows could lie? I liked you well enough, fora bastard... but I never trusted you. A man needs to earn my trust.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Jon faced him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"If you've had the Horn of Joramun all along, why haven't you used it? Why bother building turtles and sending Thenns to kill us in our beds? If this horn is all the songs say, why not just sound it and be done?\\\"\\n\\nIt was Dalla who answered him, Dalla great with child, lying on her pile of furs beside the brazier. \\\"We free folk know things you kneelers have forgotten. Sometimes the short road is not the safest, Jon Snow. The Horned Lord once said that sorcery is a sword without a hilt. There is no safe way to grasp it.\\\"\\n\\nMance ran a hand along the curve of the great horn. \\\"No mangoes hunting with only one arrow in his quiver,\\\" he said. \\\"I had hoped that Styr and Jarl would take your brothers unawares, and open the gate for us. I drew your garrison away with feints and raids and secondary attacks. Bowen Marsh swallowed that lure as I knew he would, but your band of cripples and orphans proved to be more stubborn than anticipated. Don't think you've stopped us, though. The truth is, you are too few and we are too many. I could continue the attack here and still send ten thousand men to cross the Bay of Seals on rafts and take Eastwatch from the rear. I could storm the Shadow Tower too, I know the approaches as well as any man alive. I could send men and mammoths to dig out the gates at the castles you've abandoned, all of them at once.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why don't you, then?\\\" Jon could have drawn Longclaw then, but he wanted to hear what the wildling had to say.\\n\\n\\\"Blood,\\\" said Mance Rayder. \\\"I'd win in the end, yes, but you'd bleed me, and my people have bled enough.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your losses haven't been that heavy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not at your hands.\\\" Mance studied Jon's face. \\\"You saw the Fist of the First Men. You know what happened there. You know what we are facing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Others...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They grow stronger as the days grow shorter and the nights colder. First they kill you, then they send your dead against you. The giants have not been able to stand against them, nor the Thenns, the ice river clans, the Hornfoots.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nor you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nor me.\\\" There was anger in that admission, and bitterness too deep for words. \\\"Raymun Redbeard, Bael the Bard, Gendel and Gorne, the Horned Lord, they all came south to conquer, but I've come with my tail between my legs to hide behind your Wall.\\\" He touched the horn again. \\\"If I sound the Horn of Winter, the Wall will fall. Or so the songs would have me believe. There are those among my people who want nothing more...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But once the Wallis fallen,\\\" Dalla said, \\\"what will stop the Others?\\\"\\n\\nMance gave her a fond smile. \\\"It's a wise woman I've found. A true queen.\\\" He turned back to Jon. \\\"Go back and tell them to open their gate and let us pass. If they do, I will give them the horn, and the Wall will stand until the end of days.\\\"\\n\\nOpen the gate and let them pass. Easy to say, but what must follow? Giants camping in the ruins of Winterfell? Cannibals in the wolfswood, chariots sweeping across the barrowlands, free folk stealing the daughters of shipwrights and silversmiths from White Harbor and fishwives off the Stony Shore? \\\"Are you a true king?\\\" Jon asked suddenly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I've never had a crown on my head or sat my arse on a bloody throne, if that's what you're asking,\\\" Mance replied.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"My birth is as low as a man's can get, no septon's ever smeared my head with oils, I don't own any castles, and my queen wears furs and amber, not silk and sapphires. I am my own champion, my own fool, and my own harpist. You don't become King-beyond-the-Wall because your father was. The free folk won't follow a name, and they don't care which brother was born first. They follow fighters. When I left the Shadow Tower there were five men making noises about how they might be the stuff of kings. Tormund was one, the Magnar another. The other three I slew, when they made it plain they'd sooner fight than follow.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You can kill your enemies,\\\" Jon said bluntly, \\\"but can you rule your friends? If we let your people pass, are you strong enough to make them keep the king's peace and obey the laws?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Whose laws? The laws of Winterfell and King's Landing?\\\" Mance laughed. \\\"When we want laws we'll make our own. You can keep your king's justice too, and your king's taxes. I'm offering you the horn, not our freedom. We will not kneel to you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What if we refuse the offer?\\\" Jon had no doubt that they would. The Old Bear might at least have listened, though he would have balked at the notion of letting thirty or forty thousand wildlings loose on the Seven Kingdoms. But Alliser Thorne and Janos Slynt would dismiss the notion out of hand.\\n\\n\\\"If you refuse,\\\" Mance Rayder said, \\\"Tormund Giantsbane will sound the Horn of Winter three days hence, at dawn.\\\"\\n\\nHe could carry the message back to Castle Black and tell them of the horn, but if he left Mance still alive Lord Janos and Ser Alliser would seize on that as proof that he was a turncloak. A thousand thoughts flickered through Jon's head. If I can destroy the horn, smash it here and now... but before he could begin to think that through, he heard the low moan of some other horn, made faint by the tent's hide walls. Mance heard it too. Frowning, he went to the door. Jon followed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The warhorn was louder outside. Its call had stirred the wildling camp. Three Hornfoot men jogged past, carrying long spears. Horses were whinnying and snorting, giants roaring in the Old Tongue, and even the mammoths were restless.\\n\\n\\\"Outrider's horn,\\\" Tormund told Mance.\\n\\n\\\"Something's coming.\\\" Varamyr sat crosslegged on the half-frozen ground, his wolves circled restlessly around him. A shadow swept over him, and Jon looked up to seethe eagle's blue-grey wings. \\\"Coming, from the east.\\\"\\n\\nWhen the dead walk, walls and stakes and swords mean nothing, he remembered. You cannot fight the dead, Jon Snow. No man knows that half so well as me.\\n\\nHarma scowled. \\\"East? The wights should be behind us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"East,\\\" the skinchanger repeated. \\\"Something's coming.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Others?\\\" Jon asked.\\n\\nMance shook his head. \\\"The Others never come when the sun is up.\\\" Chariots were rattling across the killing ground, jammed with riders waving spears of sharpened bone. The king groaned. \\\"Where the bloody hell do they think they're going? Quenn, get those fools back where they belong. Someone bring my horse. The mare, not the stallion. I'll want my armor too.\\\" Mance glanced suspiciously at the Wall. Atop the icy parapets, the straw soldiers stood collecting arrows, but there was no sign of any other activity. \\\"Harma, mount up your raiders. Tormund, find your sons and give me a triple line of spears.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" said Tormund, striding off.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The mousy little skinchanger closed his eyes and said, \\\"I see them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They're coming along the streams and game trails...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Men. Men on horses. Men in steel and men in black.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Crows.\\\" Mance made the word a curse. He turned on Jon. \\\"Did my old brothers think they'd catch me with my breeches down if they attacked while we were talking?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If they planned an attack they never told me about it.\\\" Jon did not believe it. Lord Janos lacked the men to attack the wildling camp. Besides, he was on the wrong side of the Wall, and the gate was sealed with rubble. He had a different sort of treachery in mind, this can't be his work.\\n\\n\\\"If you're lying tome again, you won't be leaving here alive,\\\" Mance warned. His guards brought him his horse and armor. Elsewhere around the camp, Jon saw people running at cross purposes, some men forming up as if to storm the Wall while others slipped into the woods, women driving dogcarts east, mammoths wandering west. He reached back over his shoulder and drew Longclaw just as a thin line of rangers emerged from the fringes of the wood three hundred yards away. They wore blackmail, black halfhelms, and black cloaks. Half-armored, Mance drew his sword. \\\"You knew nothing of this, did you?\\\" he said to Jon, coldly.\\n\\nSlow as honey on a cold morning, the rangers swept down on the wildling camp, picking their way through clumps of gorse and stands of trees, over roots and rocks. Wildlings flew to meet them, shouting war cries and waving clubs and bronze swords and axes made of flint, galloping headlong at their ancient enemies. A shout, a slash, and a fine brave death, Jon had heard brothers say of the free folk's way of fighting.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Believe what you will,\\\" Jon told the King-beyond-the-Wall, \\\"but I knew nothing of any attack.\\\"\\n\\nHarma thundered past before Mance could reply, riding at the head of thirty raiders. Her standard went before her; a dead dog impaled on a spear, raining blood at every stride. Mance watched as she smashed into the rangers. \\\"Might be you're telling it true,\\\" he said. \\\"Those look like Eastwatch men. Sailors on horses. Cotter Pyke always had more guts than sense. He took the Lord of Bones at Long Barrow, he might have thought to do the same with me. If so, he's a fool. He doesn't have the men, he-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Mance!\\\" the shout came. It was a scout, bursting from the trees on a lathered horse. \\\"Mance, there's more, they're all around us, iron men, iron, a host of iron men.\\\"\\n\\nCursing, Mance swung up into the saddle. \\\"Varamyr, stay and see that no harm comes to Dalla.\\\" The King-beyond-the-Wall pointed his sword at Jon. \\\"And keep a few extra eyes on this crow. If he runs, rip out his throat.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye, I'll do that.\\\" The skinchanger was ahead shorter than Jon, slumped and soft, but that shadowcat could disembowel him with one paw. \\\"They're coming from the north too,\\\" Varamyr told Mance. \\\"You best go.\\\"\\n\\nMance donned his helm with its raven wings. His men were mounted up as well. \\\"Arrowhead,\\\" Mance snapped, \\\"tome, form wedge.\\\" Yet when he slammed his heels into the mare and flew across the field at the rangers, the men who raced to catch him lost all semblance of formation.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jon took a step toward the tent, thinking of the Horn of Winter, but the shadowcat blocked him, tail lashing. The beast's nostrils flared, and slaver ran from his curved front teeth. He smells my fear. He missed Ghost more than ever then. The two wolves were behind him, growling.\\n\\n\\\"Banners,\\\" he heard Varamyr murmur, \\\"I see golden banners, oh...\\\" A mammoth lumbered by, trumpeting, a half-dozen bowmen in the wooden tower on its back. \\\"The king... no...\\\"\\n\\nThen the skinchanger threw back his head and screamed.\\n\\nThe sound was shocking, ear-piercing, thick with agony. Varamyr fell, writhing, and the 'cat was screaming too... and high, high in the eastern sky, against the wall of cloud, Jon saw the eagle burning. Fora heartbeat it flamed brighter than a star, wreathed in red and gold and orange, its wings beating wildly at the air as if it could fly from the pain. Higher it flew, and higher, and higher still.\\n\\nThe scream brought Val out of the tent, white-faced. \\\"What is it, what's happened?\\\" Varamyr's wolves were fighting each other, and the shadowcat had raced off into the trees, but the man was still twisting on the ground. \\\"What's wrong with him?\\\" Val demanded, horrified. \\\"Where's Mance?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There.\\\" Jon pointed. \\\"Gone to fight.\\\" The king led his ragged wedge into a knot of rangers, his sword flashing.\\n\\n\\\"Gone? He can't begone, not now. It's started.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The battle?\\\" He watched the rangers scatter before Harma's bloody dog's head. The raiders screamed and hacked and chased the men in black back into the trees. But there were more men coming from the wood, a column of horse. Knights on heavy horse, Jon saw. Harma had to regroup and wheel to meet them, but half of her men had raced too far ahead.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The birth!\\\" Val was shouting at him.\\n\\nTrumpets were blowing all around, loud and brazen. The wildlings have no trumpets, only warhorns. They knew that as well as he did; the sound sent free folk running in confusion, some toward the fighting, others away. A mammoth was stomping through a flock of sheep that three men were trying to herd off west. The drums were beating as the wildlings ran to form squares and lines, but they were too late, too disorganized, too slow. The enemy was emerging from the forest, from the east, the northeast, the north; three great columns of heavy horse, all dark glinting steel and bright wool surcoats. Not the men of Eastwatch, those had been no more than a line of scouts. An army. The king? Jon was as confused as the wildlings. Could Robb have returned? Had the boy on the Iron Throne finally bestirred himself? \\\"You best get back inside the tent,\\\" he told Val.\\n\\nAcross the field one column had washed over Harma Dogshead. Another smashed into the flank of Tormund's spearmen as he and his sons desperately tried to turn them. The giants were climbing onto their mammoths, though, and the knights on their barded horses did not like that at all; he could see how the coursers and destriers screamed and scattered at the sight of those lumbering mountains. But there was fear on the wildling side as well, hundreds of women and children rushing away from the battle, some of them blundering right under the hooves of garrons. He saw an old woman's dogcart veer into the path of three chariots, to send them crashing into each other.\\n\\n\\\"Gods,\\\" Val whispered, \\\"gods, why are they doing this?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Go inside the tent and stay with Dalla. It's not safe out here.\\\" It wouldn't be a great deal safer inside, but she didn't need to hear that.\\n\\n\\\"I need to find the midwife,\\\" Val said.\\n\\n\\\"You're the midwife. I'll stay here until Mance comes back.\\\" He had lost sight of Mance but now he found him again, cutting his way through a knot of mounted men. The mammoths had shattered the center column, but the other two were closing like pincers. On the eastern edge of the camps, some archers were loosing fire arrows at the tents. He saw a mammoth pluck a knight from his saddle and fling him forty feet with a flick of its trunk. Wildlings streamed past, women and children running from the battle, some with men hurrying them along. A few of them gave Jon dark looks but Longclaw was in his hand, and no one troubled him. Even Varamyr fled, crawling off on his hands and knees.\\n\\nMore and more men were pouring from the trees, not only knights now but freeriders and mounted bowmen and men-at-arms in jacks and kettle helms, dozens of men, hundreds of men. Ablaze of banners flew above them. The wind was whipping them too wildly for Jon to seethe sigils, but he glimpsed a seahorse, afield of birds, a ring of flowers. And yellow, so much yellow, yellow banners with a red device, whose arms were those?\\n\\nEast and north and northeast, he saw bands of wildlings trying to stand and fight, but the attackers rode right over them. The free folk still had the numbers, but the attackers had steel armor and heavy horses. In the thickest part of the fray, Jon saw Mance standing tall in his stirrups. His red-and-black cloak and raven-winged helm made him easy to pick out. He had his sword raised and men were rallying to him when a wedge of knights smashed into them with lance and sword and longaxe. Mance's mare went upon her hind legs, kicking, and a spear took her through the breast. Then the steel tide washed over him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"It's done, Jon thought, they're breaking.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The wildlings were running, throwing down their weapons, Hornfoot men and cave dwellers and Thenns in bronze scales, they were running. Mance was gone, someone was waving Harma's head on a pole, Tormund's lines had broken. Only the giants on their mammoths were holding, hairy islands in a red steel sea. The fires were leaping from tent to tent and some of the tall pines were going up as well. And through the smoke another wedge of armored riders came, on barded horses. Floating above them were the largest banners yet, royal standards as big as sheets; a yellow one with long pointed tongues that showed a flaming heart, and another like a sheet of beaten gold, with a black stag prancing and rippling in the wind.\\n\\nRobert, Jon thought for one mad moment, remembering poor Owen, but when the trumpets blew again and the knights charged, the name they cried was'Stannis! Stannis! STANNIS!\\\"\\n\\nJon turned away, and went inside the tent.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2289,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 76"},{"from":"human","value":"It's done, Jon thought, they're breaking."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The wildlings were running, throwing down their weapons, Hornfoot men and cave dwellers and Thenns in bronze scales, they were running. Mance was gone, someone was waving Harma's head on a pole, Tormund's lines had broken. Only the giants on their mammoths were holding, hairy islands in a red steel sea. The fires were leaping from tent to tent and some of the tall pines were going up as well. And through the smoke another wedge of armored riders came, on barded horses. Floating above them were the largest banners yet, royal standards as big as sheets; a yellow one with long pointed tongues that showed a flaming heart, and another like a sheet of beaten gold, with a black stag prancing and rippling in the wind.\n\nRobert, Jon thought for one mad moment, remembering poor Owen, but when the trumpets blew again and the knights charged, the name they cried was'Stannis! Stannis! STANNIS!\"\n\nJon turned away, and went inside the tent."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"ARYA\n\nOutside the inn on a weathered gibbet, a woman's bones were twisting and rattling at every gust of wind.\n\nI know this inn. There hadn't been a gibbet outside the door when she had slept herewith her sister Sansa under the watchful eye of Septa Mordane, though. \"We don't want to go in,\" Arya decided suddenly, \"there might be ghosts.\"\n\n\"You know how long it's been since I had a cup of wine?\" Sandor swung down from the saddle. \"Besides, we need to learn who holds the ruby ford. Stay with the horses if you want, it's no hair off my arse.\"\n\n\"What if they know you?\" Sandor no longer troubled to hide his face. He no longer seemed to care who knew him. \"They might want to take you captive.\"\n\n\"Let them try.\" He loosened his longsword in its scabbard, and pushed through the door.\n\nArya would never have a better chance to escape. She could ride off on Craven and take Stranger too. She chewed her lip. Then she led the horses to the stables, and went in after him.\n\nThey know him. The silence told her that. But that wasn't the worst thing. She knew them too. Not the skinny innkeep, nor the women, nor the fieldhands by the hearth. But the others. The soldiers. She knew the soldiers.\n\n\"Looking for your brother, Sandor?\" Polliver's hand was down the bodice of the girl on his lap, but now he slid it out.\n\n\"Looking fora cup of wine. Innkeep, a flagon of red.\" Clegane threw a handful of coppers on the floor."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I don't want no trouble, ser,\" the innkeep said.\n\n\"Then don't call me ser.\" His mouth twitched. \"Are you deaf, fool? I ordered wine.\" As the man ran off, Clegane shouted after him, \"Two cups! The girl's thirsty too!\"\n\nThere are only three, Arya thought. Polliver gave her a fleeting glance and the boy beside him never looked at her at all, but the third one gazed long and hard. He was a man of middling height and build, with a face so ordinary that it was hard to say how old he was. The Tickler. The Tickler and Polliver both. The boy was a squire, judging by his age and dress. He had a big white pimple on one side of his nose, and some red ones on his forehead. \"Is this the lost puppy Ser Gregor spoke of?\" he asked the Tickler. \"The one who piddled in the rushes and ran off?\"\n\nThe Tickler put a warning hand on the boy's arm, and gave a short sharp shake of his head. Arya read that plain enough.\n\nThe squire didn't, or else he didn't care. \"Ser said his puppy brother tucked his tail between his legs when the battle got too warm at King's Landing. He said he ran off whimpering.\" He gave the Hound a stupid mocking grin.\n\nClegane studied the boy and never said a word. Polliver shoved the girl off his lap and got to his feet. \"The lad's drunk,\" he said. The man-at-arms was almost as tall as the Hound, though not so heavily muscled. A spade-shaped beard covered his jaws and jowls, thick and black and neatly trimmed, but his head was more bald than not. \"He can't hold his wine, is all.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Then he shouldn't drink.\"\n\n\"The puppy doesn't scare...\" the boy began, till the Tickler casually twisted his ear between thumb and forefinger. The words became a squeal of pain.\n\nThe innkeep came scurrying back with two stone cups and a flagon on a pewter platter. Sandor lifted the flagon to his mouth. Arya could seethe muscles in his neck working as he gulped. When he slammed it back down on the table, half the wine was gone. \"Now you can pour. Best pickup those coppers too, it's the only coin you're like to see today.\"\n\n\"We'll pay when we're done drinking,\" said Polliver.\n\n\"When you're done drinking you'll tickle the innkeep to see where he keeps his gold. The way you always do.\"\n\nThe innkeep suddenly remembered something in the kitchen. The locals were leaving too, and the girls were gone. The only sound in the common room was the faint crackling of the fire in the hearth. We should go too, Arya knew.\n\n\"If you're looking for Ser, you come too late,\" Polliver said. \"He was at Harrenhal, but now he's not. The queen sent for him.\" He wore three blades on his belt, Arya saw; a longsword on his left hip, and on his right a dagger and a slimmer blade, too long to be a dirk and too short to be a sword. \"King Joffrey's dead, you know,\" he added. \"Poisoned at his own wedding feast.\"\n\nArya edged farther into the room. Joffrey's dead. She could almost see him, with his blond curls and his mean smile and his fat soft lips. Joffrey's dead! She knew it ought to make her happy, but somehow she still felt empty inside. Joffrey was dead, but if Robb was dead too, what did it matter?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So much for my brave brothers of the Kingsguard.\" The Hound gave a snort of contempt. \"Who killed him?\"\n\n\"The Imp, it's thought. Him and his little wife.\"\n\n\"What wife?\"\n\n\"I forgot, you've been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head.\"\n\nThat's stupid, Arya thought. Sansa only knows songs, not spells, and she'd never marry the Imp.\n\nThe Hound sat on the bench closest to the door. His mouth twitched, but only the burned side. \"She ought to dip him in wildfire and cook him. Or tickle him till the moon turns black.\" He raised his wine cup and drained it straightaway.\n\nHe's one of them, Arya thought when she saw that. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. He's just like they are. I should kill him when he sleeps.\n\n\"So Gregor took Harrenhal?\" Sandor said.\n\n\"Didn't require much taking,\" said Polliver. \"The sellswords fled as soon as they knew we were coming, all but a few. One of the cooks opened a postern gate for us, to get back at Hoat for cutting off his foot.\" He chuckled. \"We kept him to cook for us, a couple wenches to warm our beds, and put all the rest to the sword.\"\n\n\"All the rest?\" Arya blurted out.\n\n\"Well, Ser kept Hoat to pass the time.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sandor said, \"The Blackfish is still in Riverrun?\"\n\n\"Not for long,\" said Polliver. \"He's under siege. Old Frey's going to hang Edmure Tully unless he yields the castle. The only real fighting's around Raventree. Blackwoods and Brackens. The Brackens are ours now.\"\n\nThe Hound poured a cup of wine for Arya and another for himself, and drank it down while staring at the hearthfire. \"The little bird flew away, did she? Well, bloody good for her. She shit on the Imp's head and flew off.\"\n\n\"They'll find her,\" said Polliver. \"If it takes half the gold in Casterly Rock.\"\n\n\"A pretty girl, I hear,\" said the Tickler. \"Honey sweet.\" He smacked his lips and smiled.\n\n\"And courteous,\" the Hound agreed. \"A proper little lady. Not like her bloody sister.\"\n\n\"They found her too,\" said Polliver. \"The sister. She's for Bolton's bastard, I hear.\"\n\nArya sipped her wine so they could not see her mouth. She didn't understand what Polliver was talking about. Sansa has no other sister. Sandor Clegane laughed aloud.\n\n\"What's so bloody funny?\" asked Polliver.\n\nThe Hound never flicked an eye at Arya. \"If I'd wanted you to know, I'd have told you. Are there ships at Saltpans?\"\n\n\"Saltpans? How should I know? The traders are back at Maidenpool, I heard. Randyll Tarly took the castle and locked Mooton in a tower cell. I haven't heard shit about Saltpans.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Tickler leaned forward. \"Would you put to sea without bidding farewell to your brother?\" It gave Arya chills to hear him ask a question. \"Ser would sooner you returned to Harrenhal with us, Sandor. I bet he would. Or King's Landing...\"\n\n\"Bugger that. Bugger him. Bugger you.\"\n\nThe Tickler shrugged, straightened, and reached a hand behind his head to rub the back of his neck. Everything seemed to happen at once then; Sandor lurched to his feet, Polliver drew his longsword, and the Tickler's hand whipped around in a blur to send something silver flashing across the common room. If the Hound had not been moving, the knife might have cored the apple of his throat; instead it only grazed his ribs, and wound up quivering in the wall near the door. He laughed then, a laugh as cold and hollow as if it had come from the bottom of a deep well. \"I was hoping you'd do something stupid.\" His sword slid from its scabbard just in time to knock aside Polliver's first cut.\n\nArya took a step backward as the long steel song began. The Tickler came off the bench with a shortsword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Even the chunky brown-haired squire was up, fumbling for his swordhilt. She snatched her wine cup off the table and threw it at his face. Her aim was better than it had been at the Twins. The cup hit him right on his big white pimple and he went down hard on his tail.\n\nPolliver was a grim, methodical fighter, and he pressed Sandor steadily backward, his heavy longsword moving with brutal precision. The Hound's own cuts were sloppier, his parries rushed, his feet slow and clumsy. He's drunk, Arya realized with dismay. He drank too much too fast, with no food in his belly. And the Tickler was sliding around the wall to get behind him. She grabbed the second wine cup and flung it at him, but he was quicker than the squire had been and ducked his head in time. The look he gave her then was cold with promise. Is there gold hidden in the village? she could hear him ask. The stupid squire was clutching the edge of a table and pulling himself to his knees. Arya could taste the beginnings of panic in the back of her throat. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fears cuts deeper..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sandor gave a grunt of pain. The burned side of his face ran red from temple to cheek, and the stub of his ear was gone. That seemed to make him angry. He drove back Polliver with a furious attack, hammering at him with the old nicked longsword he had swapped for in the hills. The bearded man gave way, but none of the cuts so much as touched him. And then the Tickler leapt over a bench quick as a snake, and slashed at the back of the Hound's neck with the edge of his short sword.\n\nThey're killing him. Arya had no more cups, but there was something better to throw. She drew the dagger they'd robbed off the dying archer and tried to fling it at the Tickler the way he'd done. It wasn't the same as throwing a rock or a crabapple, though. The knife wobbled, and hit him in the arm hilt first. He never even felt it. He was too intent on Clegane.\n\nAshe stabbed, Clegane twisted violently aside, winning himself half a heartbeat's respite. Blood ran down his face and from the gash in his neck. Both of the Mountain's men came after him hard, Polliver hacking at his head and shoulders while the Tickler darted into stab at back and belly. The heavy stone flagon was still on the table. Arya grabbed it with two hands, but as she lifted it someone grabbed her arm. The flagon slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor. Wrenched around, she found herself nose to nose with the squire. You stupid, you forgot all about him. His big white pimple had burst, she saw.\n\n\"Are you the puppy's puppy?\" He had his sword in his right hand and her arm in his left, but her own hands were free, so she jerked his knife from its sheath and sheathed it again in his belly, twisting. He wasn't wearing mail or even boiled leather, so it went right in, the same way Needle had when she killed the stableboy at King's Landing. The squire's eyes got big and he let goof her arm. Arya spun to the door and wrenched the Tickler's knife from the wall."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Polliver and the Tickler had driven the Hound into a corner behind a bench, and one of them had given him an ugly red gash on his upper thigh to go with his other wounds. Sandor was leaning against the wall, bleeding and breathing noisily. He looked as though he could barely stand, let alone fight. \"Throw down the sword, and we'll take you back to Harrenhal,\" Polliver told him.\n\n\"So Gregor can finish me himself?\"\n\nThe Tickler said, \"Maybe he'll give you tome.\"\n\n\"If you want me, come get me.\" Sandor pushed away from the wall and stood in a half-crouch behind the bench, his sword held across his body.\n\n\"You think we won't?\" said Polliver. \"You're drunk.\"\n\n\"Might be,\" said the Hound, \"but you're dead.\" His foot lashed out and caught the bench, driving it hard into Polliver's shins. Somehow the bearded man kept his feet, but the Hound ducked under his wild slash and brought his own sword up in a vicious backhand cut. Blood spattered on the ceiling and walls. The blade caught in the middle of Polliver's face, and when the Hound wrenched it loose half his head came with it.\n\nThe Tickler backed away. Arya could smell his fear. The shortsword in his hand suddenly seemed almost a toy against the long blade the Hound was holding, and he wasn't armored either. He moved swiftly, light on his feet, never taking his eyes off Sandor Clegane. It was the easiest thing in the world for Arya to step up behind him and stab him.\n\n\"Is there gold hidden in the village?\" she shouted as she drove the blade up through his back. \"Is there silver? Gems?\" She stabbed twice more. \"Is there food? Where is Lord Beric?\" She was on top of him by then, still stabbing. \"Where did he go? How many men were with him? How many knights? How many bowmen? How many, how many, how many, how many, how many, how many? Is there gold in the village?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Her hands were red and sticky when Sandor dragged her off him. \"Enough,\" was all he said. He was bleeding like a butchered pig himself, and dragging one leg when he walked.\n\n\"There's one more,\" Arya reminded him.\n\nThe squire had pulled the knife out of his belly and was trying to stop the blood with his hands. When the Hound yanked him upright, he screamed and started to blubber like a baby. \"Mercy,\" he wept, \"please. Don't kill me. Mother have mercy.\"\n\n\"Do I look like your bloody mother?\" The Hound looked like nothing human. \"You killed this one too,\" he told Arya. \"Pricked him in his bowels, that's the end of him. He'll be along time dying, though.\"\n\nThe boy didn't seemed to hear him. \"I came for the girls,\" he whimpered. \"... make me a man, Polly said... oh, gods, please, take me to a castle... a maester, take me to a maester, my father's got gold... it was only for the girls... mercy, ser.\"\n\nThe Hound gave him a crack across the face that made him scream again. \"Don't call me ser.\" He turned back to Arya. \"This one is yours, she-wolf. You do it.\"\n\nShe knew what he meant. Arya went to Polliver and knelt in his blood long enough to undo his swordbelt. Hanging beside his dagger was a slimmer blade, too long to be a dirk, too short to be a man's sword... but it felt just right in her hand.\n\n\"You remember where the heart is?\" the Hound asked.\n\nShe nodded. The squire rolled his eyes. \"Mercy.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Needle slipped between his ribs and gave it to him.\n\n\"Good.\" Sandor's voice was thick with pain. \"If these three were whoring here, Gregor must hold the ford as well as Harrenhal. More of his pets could ride up any moment, and we've killed enough of the bloody buggers for one day.\"\n\n\"Where will we go?\" she asked.\n\n\"Saltpans.\" He put a big hand on her shoulder to keep from falling. \"Get some wine, she-wolf. And take whatever coin they have as well, we'll need it. If there's ships at Saltpans, we can reach the Vale by sea.\" His mouth twitched at her, as more blood ran down from where his ear had been. \"Maybe Lady Lysa will marry you to her little Robert. There's a match I'd like to see.\" He started to laugh, then groaned instead.\n\nWhen the time came to leave, he needed Arya's help to get backup on Stranger. He had tied a strip of cloth about his neck and another around his thigh, and taken the squire's cloak off its peg by the door. The cloak was green, with a green arrow on a white bend, but when the Hound wadded it up and pressed it to his ear it soon turned red. Arya was afraid he would collapse the moment they set out, but somehow he stayed in the saddle.\n\nThey could not risk meeting whoever held the ruby ford, so instead of following the kingsroad they angled south by east, through weedy fields, woods, and marshes. It was hours before they reached the banks of the Trident. The river had returned meekly to its accustomed channel, Arya saw, all its wet brown rage vanished with the rains. It's tired too, she thought."},{"from":"human","value":"Close by the water's edge, they found some willows rising from a jumble of weathered rocks."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Together the rocks and trees formed a sort of natural fort where they could hide from both river and trail. \"Here will do,\" the Hound said. \"Water the horses and gather some deadwood fora fire.\" When he dismounted, he had to catch himself on a tree limb to keep from falling.\n\n\"Won't the smoke be seen?\"\n\n\"Anyone wants to find us, all they need to do is follow my blood. Water and wood. But bring me that wineskin first.\"\n\nWhen he got the fire going, Sandor propped up his helm in the flames, emptied half the wineskin into it, and collapsed back against a jut of moss-covered stone as if he never meant to rise again. He made Arya washout the squire's cloak and cut it into strips. Those went into his helm as well. \"If I had more wine, I'd drink till I was dead to the world. Maybe I ought to send you back to that bloody inn for another skin or three.\"\n\n\"No,\" Arya said. He wouldn't, would he? If he does, I'll just leave him and ride off.\n\nSandor laughed at the fear on her face. \"A jest, wolf girl. A bloody jest. Find me a stick, about so long and not too big around. And wash the mud off it. I hate the taste of mud.\"\n\nHe didn't like the first two sticks she brought him. By the time she found one that suited him, the flames had scorched his dog's snout black all the way to the eyes. Inside the wine was boiling madly. \"Get the cup from my bedroll and dip it half full,\" he told her. \"Be careful. You knock the damn thing over, I will send you back for more. Take the wine and pour it on my wounds. Think you can do that?\" Arya nodded. \"Then what are you waiting for?\" he growled."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Her knuckles brushed the steel the first time she filled the cup, burning her so badly she got blisters. Arya had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. The Hound used the stick for the same purpose, clamping it between his teeth as she poured. She did the gash in his thigh first, then the shallower cut on the back of his neck. Sandor coiled his right hand into a fist and beat against the ground when she did his leg. When it came to his neck, he bit the stick so hard it broke, and she had to find him anew one. She could seethe terror in his eyes. \"Turn your head.\" She trickled the wine down over the raw red flesh where his ear had been, and fingers of brown blood and red wine crept over his jaw. He did scream then, despite the stick. Then he passed out from the pain.\n\nArya figured the rest out by herself. She fished the strips they'd made of the squire's cloak out of the bottom of the helm and used them to bind the cuts. When she came to his ear, she had to wrap up half his head to stop the bleeding. By then dusk was settling over the Trident. She let the horses graze, then hobbled them for the night and made herself as comfortable as she could in a niche between two rocks. The fire burned awhile and died. Arya watched the moon through the branches overhead.\n\n\"Ser Gregor the Mountain,\" she said softly. \"Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei.\" It made her feel queer to leave out Polliver and the Tickler. And Joffrey too. She was glad he was dead, but she wished she could have been thereto see him die, or maybe kill him herself. Polliver said that Sansa killed him, and the Imp. Could that be true? The Imp was a Lannister, and Sansa... I wish I could change into a wolf and grow wings and flyaway."},{"from":"human","value":"If Sansa was gone too, there were no more Starks but her."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jon was on the Wall a thousand leagues away, but he was a Snow, and these different aunts and uncles the Hound wanted to sell her to, they weren't Starks either. They weren't wolves.\n\nSandor moaned, and she rolled onto her side to look at him. She had left his name out too, she realized. Why had she done that? She tried to think of Mycah, but it was hard to remember what he'd looked like. She hadn't known him long. All he ever did was play at swords with me. \"The Hound,\" she whispered, and, \"Valar morghulis.\" Maybe he'd be dead by morning...\n\nBut when the pale dawn light came filtering through the trees, it was him who woke her with the toe of his boot. She had dreamed she was a wolf again, chasing a riderless horse up a hill with a pack behind her, but his foot brought her back just as they were closing for the kill.\n\nThe Hound was still weak, every movement slow and clumsy. He slumped in the saddle, and sweated, and his ear began to bleed through the bandage. He needed all his strength just to keep from falling off Stranger. Had the Mountain's men come hunting them, she doubted if he would even be able to lift a sword. Arya glanced over her shoulder, but there was nothing behind them but a crow flitting from tree to tree. The only sound was the river.\n\nLong before noon, Sandor Clegane was reeling. There were hours of daylight still remaining when he called a halt. \"I need to rest,\" was all he said. This time when he dismounted he did fall. Instead of trying to get backup he crawled weakly under a tree, and leaned up against the trunk. \"Bloody hell,\" he cursed. \"Bloody hell.\" When he saw Arya staring at him, he said, \"I'd skin you alive fora cup of wine, girl.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She brought him water instead. He drank a little of it, complained that it tasted of mud, and slid into a noisy fevered sleep. When she touched him, his skin was burning up. Arya sniffed at his bandages the way Maester Luwin had done sometimes when treating her cut or scrape. His face had bled the worst, but it was the wound on his thigh that smelled funny to her.\n\nShe wondered how far this Saltpans was, and whether she could find it by herself. I wouldn't have to kill him. If I just rode off and left him, he'd die all by himself. He'll die of fever, and lie there beneath that tree until the end of days. But maybe it would be better if she killed him herself. She had killed the squire at the inn and he hadn't done anything except grab her arm. The Hound had killed Mycah. Mycah and more. I bet he's killed a hundred Mycahs. He probably would have killed her too, if not for the ransom.\n\nNeedle glinted as she drew it. Polliver had kept it nice and sharp, at least. She turned her body sideways in a water dancer's stance without even thinking about it. Dead leaves crunched beneath her feet. Quick as a snake, she thought. Smooth as summer silk.\n\nHis eyes opened. \"You remember where the heart is?\" he asked in a hoarse whisper.\n\nAs still as stone she stood. \"I... I was only...\"\n\n\"Don't lie,\" he growled. \"I hate liars. I hate gutless frauds even worse. Goon, do it.\" When Arya did not move, he said, \"I killed your butcher's boy. I cut him near in half, and laughed about it after.\" He made a queer sound, and it took her a moment to realize he was sobbing. \"And the little bird, your pretty sister, I stood therein my white cloak and let them beat her. I took the bloody song, she never gave it. I meant to take her too. I should have. I should have fucked her bloody and ripped her heart out before leaving her for that dwarf.\" A spasm of pain twisted his face. \"Do you mean to make me beg, bitch? Do it! The gift of mercy... avenge your little Michael...\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Mycah.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Arya stepped away from him. \"You don't deserve the gift of mercy.\"\n\nThe Hound watched her saddle Craven through eyes bright with fever. Not once did he attempt to rise and stop her. But when she mounted, he said, \"Areal wolf would finish a wounded animal.\"\n\nMaybe some real wolves will find you, Arya thought. Maybe they'll smell you when the sun goes down. Then he would learn what wolves did to dogs. \"You shouldn't have hit me with an axe,\" she said. \"You should have saved my mother.\" She turned her horse and rode away from him, and never looked back once.\n\nOn a bright morning six days later, she came to a place where the Trident began to widen out and the air smelled more of salt than trees. She stayed close to the water, passing fields and farms, and a little after midday a town appeared before her. Saltpans, she hoped. A small castle dominated the town; no more than a holdfast, really, a single tall square keep with a bailey and a curtain wall. Most of the shops and inns and alehouses around the harbor had been plundered or burned, though some looked still inhabited. But the port was there, and eastward spread the Bay of Crabs, its waters shimmering blue and green in the sun.\n\nAnd there were ships.\n\nThree, thought Arya, there are three. Two were only river galleys, shallow draft boats made to ply the waters of the Trident. The third was bigger, a salt sea trader with two banks of oars, a gilded prow, and three tall masts with furled purple sails. Her hull was painted purple too. Arya rode Craven down to the docks to get a better look. Strangers are not so strange in a port as they are in little villages, and no one seemed to care who she was or why she was here."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I need silver. The realization made her bite her lip. They had found a stag and a dozen coppers on Polliver, eight silvers on the pimply squire she'd killed, and only a couple of pennies in the Tickler's purse. But the Hound had told her to pull off his boots and slice open his blood-drenched clothes, and she'd turned up a stag in each toe, and three golden dragons sewn in the lining of his jerkin. Sandor had kept it all, though. That wasn't fair. It was mine as much as his. If she had given him the gift of mercy... she hadn't, though. She couldn't go back, no more than she could beg for help. Begging for help never gets you any. She would have to sell Craven, and hope she brought enough.\n\nThe stable had been burnt, she learned from a boy by the docks, but the woman who'd owned it was still trading behind the sept. Arya found her easily; a big, robust woman with a good horsey smell to her. She liked Craven at first look, asked Arya how she'd come by her, and grinned at her answer. \"She's a well-bred horse, that's plain enough, and I don't doubt she belonged to a knight, sweetling,\" she said. \"But the knight wasn't no dead brother o'yours. I been dealing with the castle there many a year, so I know what gentleborn folk is like. This mare is well-bred, but you're not.\" She poked a finger at Arya's chest. \"Found her or stole her, never mind which, that's how it was. Only way a scruffy little thing like you comes to ride a palfrey.\"\n\nArya bit her lip. \"Does that mean you won't buy her?\""},{"from":"human","value":"The woman chuckled."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It means you'll take what I give you, sweetling. Else we go down to the castle, and maybe you get nothing. Or even hanged, for stealing some good knight's horse.\"\n\nA half-dozen other Saltpans folks were around, going about their business, so Arya knew she couldn't kill the woman. Instead she had to bite her lip and let herself be cheated. The purse she got was pitifully flat, and when she asked for more for the saddle and bridle and blanket, the woman just laughed at her.\n\nShe would never have cheated the Hound, she thought during the long walk back to the docks. The distance seemed to have grown by miles since she'd ridden it.\n\nThe purple galley was still there. If the ship had sailed while she was being robbed, that would have been too much to bear. A cask of mead was being rolled up the plank when she arrived. When she tried to follow, a sailor upon deck shouted down at her in a tongue she did not know. \"I want to seethe captain,\" Arya told him. He only shouted louder. But the commotion drew the attention of a stout grey-haired man in a coat of purple wool, and he spoke the Common Tongue. \"I am captain here,\" he said. \"What is your wish? Be quick, child, we have a tide to catch.\"\n\n\"I want to go north, to the Wall. Here, I can pay.\" She gave him the purse. \"The Night's Watch has a castle on the sea.\"\n\n\"Eastwatch.\" The captain spilled out the silver onto his palm and frowned. \"Is this all you have?\"\n\nIt is not enough, Arya knew without being told. She could see it on his face. \"I wouldn't need a cabin or anything,\" she said. \"I could sleep down in the hold, or...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Take heron as cabin girl,\" said a passing oarsman, a bolt of wool over one shoulder. \"She can sleep with me.\"\n\n\"Mind your tongue,\" the captain snapped.\n\n\"I could work,\" said Arya. \"I could scrub the decks. I scrubbed a castle steps once. Or I could row...\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, \"you couldn't.\" He gave her back her coins. \"It would make no difference if you could, child. The north has nothing for us. Ice and war and pirates. We saw a dozen pirate ships making north as we rounded Crackclaw Point, and I have no wish to meet them again. From here we bend our oars for home, and I suggest you do the same.\"\n\nI have no home, Arya thought. I have no pack. And now I don't even have a horse.\n\nThe captain was turning away when she said, \"What ship is this, my lord?\"\n\nHe paused long enough to give her a weary smile. \"This is the galleas Titan's Daughter, of the Free City of Braavos.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" Arya said suddenly. \"I have something else.\" She had stuffed it down inside her smallclothes to keep it safe, so she had to dig deep to find it, while the oarsmen laughed and the captain lingered with obvious impatience. \"One more silver will make no difference, child,\" he finally said.\n\n\"It's not silver.\" Her fingers closed on it. \"It's iron. Here.\" She pressed it into his hand, the small black iron coin that Jaqen H'ghar had given her, so worn the man whose head it bore had no features. It's probably worthless, but...\n\nThe captain turned it over and blinked at it, then looked at her again. \"This... how...?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jaqen said to say the words too. Arya crossed her arms against her chest. \"Valar morghulis,\" she said, as loud as if she'd known what it meant.\n\n\"Valar dohaeris,\" he replied, touching his brow with two fingers. \"Of course you shall have a cabin.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"SAMWELL\n\nHe sucks harder than mine.\" Gilly stroked the babe's head as she held him to her nipple.\n\n\"He's hungry,\" said the blonde woman Val, the one the black brothers called the wildling princess. \"He's lived on goats' milk up to now, and potions from that blind maester.\"\n\nThe boy did not have a name yet, no more than Gilly's did. That was the wildling way. Not even Mance Rayder's son would get a name till his third year, it would seem, though Sam had heard the brothers calling him'the little prince\" and'born-in-battle.\"\n\nHe watched the child nurse at Gilly's breast, and then he watched Jon watch. Jon is smiling. A sad smile, still, but definitely a smile of sorts. Sam was glad to see it. It is the first time I've seen him smile since I got back.\n\nThey had walked from the Nightfort to Deep Lake, and from Deep Lake to Queensgate, following a narrow track from one castle to the next, never out of sight of the Wall. A day and a half from Castle Black, as they trudged along on callused feet, Gilly heard horses behind them, and turned to see a column of black riders coming from the west. \"My brothers,\" Sam assured her. \"No one uses this road but the Night's Watch.\" It had turned out to be Ser Denys Mallister from the Shadow Tower, along with the wounded Bowen Marsh and the survivors from the fight at the Bridge of Skulls. When Sam saw Dywen, Giant, and Dolorous Edd Tollett, he broke down and wept.\n\nIt was from them that he learned about the battle beneath the Wall. \"Stannis landed his knights at Eastwatch, and Cotter Pyke led him along the ranger's roads, to take the wildlings unawares,\" Giant told him. \"He smashed them. Mance Rayder was taken captive, a thousand of his best slain, including Harma Dogshead. The rest scattered like leaves before a storm, we heard.\" The gods are good, Sam thought. If he had not gotten lost as he made his way south from Craster's Keep, he and Gilly might have walked right into the battle... or into Mance Rayder's camp, at the very least. That might have been well enough for Gilly and the boy, but not for him. Sam had heard all the stories about what wildlings did with captured crows. He shuddered."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Nothing that his brothers told him prepared him for what he found at Castle Black, however. The common hall had burned to the ground and the great wooden stair was a mound of broken ice and scorched timbers. Donal Noye was dead, along with Rast, Deaf Dick, Red Alyn, and so many more, yet the castle was more crowded than Sam had ever seen; not with black brothers, but with the king's soldiers, more than a thousand of them. There was a king in the King's Tower for the first time in living memory, and banners flew from the Lance, Hardin's Tower, the Grey Keep, the Shieldhall, and other buildings that had stood empty and abandoned for long years. \"The big one, the gold with the black stag, that's the royal standard of House Baratheon,\" he told Gilly, who had never seen banners before. \"The fox-and-flowers is House Florent. The turtle is Estermont, the swordfish is Bar Emmon, and the crossed trumpets are for Wensington.\"\n\n\"They're all bright as flowers.\" Gilly pointed. \"I like those yellow ones, with the fire. Look, and some of the fighters have the same thing on their blouses.\"\n\n\"A fiery heart. I don't know whose sigil that is.\"\n\nHe found out soon enough. \"Queen's men,\" Pyp told him-after he let out a whoop, and shouted, \"Run and bar the doors, lads, it's Sam the Slayer comeback from the grave,\" while Grenn was hugging Sam so hard he thought his ribs might break-\"but best you don't go asking where the queen is. Stannis left her at Eastwatch, with their daughter and his fleet. He brought no woman but the redone.\"\n\n\"The redone?\" said Sam uncertainly."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Melisandre of Asshai,\" said Grenn. \"The king's sorceress. They say she burned a man alive at Dragonstone so Stannis would have favorable winds for his voyage north. She rode beside him in the battle too, and gave him his magic sword. Lightbringer, they call it. Wait till you see it. It glows like it had apiece of sun inside it.\" He looked at Sam again and grinned a big helpless stupid grin. \"I still can't believe you're here.\"\n\nJon Snow had smiled to see him too, but it was a tired smile, like the one he wore now. \"You made it back after all,\" he said. \"And brought Gilly out as well. You've done well, Sam.\"\n\nJon had done more than well himself, to hear Grenn tell it. Yet even capturing the Horn of Winter and a wildling prince had not been enough for Ser Alliser Thorne and his friends, who still named him turncloak. Though Maester Aemon said his wound was healing well, Jon bore other scars, deeper than the ones around his eye. He grieves for his wildling girl, and for his brothers.\n\n\"It's strange,\" he said to Sam. \"Craster had no love for Mance, nor Mance for Craster, but now Craster's daughter is feeding Mance's son.\"\n\n\"I have the milk,\" Gilly said, her voice soft and shy. \"Mine takes only a little. He's not so greedy as this one.\"\n\nThe wildling woman Val turned to face them. \"I've heard the queen's men saying that the red woman means to give Mance to the fire, as soon as he is strong enough.\"\n\nJon gave her a weary look. \"Mance is a deserter from the Night's Watch. The penalty for that is death. If the Watch had taken him, he would have been hanged by now, but he's the king's captive, and no one knows the king's mind but the red woman.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I want to see him,\" Val said. \"I want to show him his son. He deserves that much, before you kill him.\"\n\nSam tried to explain. \"No one is permitted to see him but Maester Aemon, my lady.\"\n\n\"If it were in my power, Mance could hold his son.\" Jon's smile was gone. \"I'm sorry, Val.\" He turned away. \"Sam and I have duties to return to. Well, Sam does, anyway. We'll ask about your seeing Mance. That's all I can promise.\"\n\nSam lingered long enough to give Gilly's hand a squeeze and promise to return again after supper. Then he hurried after. There were guards outside the door, queen's men with spears. Jon was halfway down the steps, but he waited when he heard Sam puffing after him. \"You're more than fond of Gilly, aren't you?\"\n\nSam reddened. \"Gilly's good. She's good and kind.\" He was glad that his long nightmare was done, glad to be back with his brothers at Castle Black... but some nights, alone in his cell, he thought of how warm Gilly had been when they'd curled up beneath the furs with the babe between them. \"She... she made me braver, Jon. Not brave, but... braver.\"\n\n\"You know you cannot keep her,\" Jon said gently, \"no more than I could stay with Ygritte. You said the words, Sam, the same as I did. The same as all of us.\"\n\n\"I know. Gilly said she'd be a wife tome, but... I told her about the words, and what they meant. I don't know if that made her sad or glad, but I told her.\" He swallowed nervously and said, \"Jon, could there be honor in a lie, if it were told fora... a good purpose?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It would depend on the lie and the purpose, I suppose.\" Jon looked at Sam. \"I wouldn't advise it. You're not made to lie, Sam. You blush and squeak and stammer.\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Sam, \"but I could lie in a letter. I'm better with a quill in hand. I had a... a thought. When things are more settled here, I thought maybe the best thing for Gilly... I thought I might send her to Horn Hill. To my mother and sisters and my... my f-f-father. If Gilly were to say the babe was m-mine...\" He was blushing again. \"My mother would want him, I know. She would find someplace for Gilly, some kind of service, it wouldn't be as hard as serving Craster. And Lord R-Randyll, he... he would never say so, but he might be pleased to believe I got a bastard on some wildling girl. At least it would prove I was man enough to lie with a woman and father a child. He told me once that I was sure to die a maiden, that no woman would ever... you know... Jon, if I did this, wrote this lie... would that be a good thing? The life the boy would have...\"\n\n\"Growing up a bastard in his grandfather's castle?\" Jon shrugged. \"That depends in great part on your father, and what sort of boy this is. If he takes after you...\"\n\n\"He won't. Craster's his real father. You saw him, he was hard as an old tree stump, and Gilly is stronger than she looks.\"\n\n\"If the boy shows any skill with sword or lance, he should have a place with your father's household guard at the least,\" Jon said. \"It's not unknown for bastards to be trained as squires and raised to knighthood. But you'd best be sure Gilly can play this game convincingly. From what you've told me of Lord Randyll, I doubt he would take kindly to being deceived.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"More guards were posted on the steps outside the tower. These were king's men, though; Sam had quickly learned the difference. The king's men were as earthy and impious as any other soldiers, but the queen's men were fervid in their devotion to Melisandre of Asshai and her Lord of Light. \"Are you going to the practice yard again?\" Sam asked as they crossed the yard. \"Is it wise to train so hard before your leg's done healing?\"\n\nJon shrugged. \"What else is therefor me to do? Marsh has removed me from duty, for fear that I'm still a turncloak.\"\n\n\"It's only a few who believe that,\" Sam assured him. \"Ser Alliser and his friends. Most of the brothers know better. King Stannis knows as well, I'll wager. You brought him the Horn of Winter and captured Mance Rayder's son.\"\n\n\"All I did was protect Val and the babe against looters when the wildlings fled, and keep them there until the rangers found us. I never captured anyone. King Stannis keeps his men well in hand, that's plain. He lets them plunder some, but I've only heard of three wildling women being raped, and the men who did it have all been gelded. I suppose I should have been killing the free folk as they ran. Ser Alliser has been putting it about that the only time I bared my sword was to defend our foes. I failed to kill Mance Rayder because I was in league with him, he says.\"\n\n\"That's only Ser Alliser,\" said Sam. \"Everyone knows the sort of man he is.\" With his noble birth, his knighthood, and his long years in the Watch, Ser Alliser Thorne might have been a strong challenger for the Lord Commander's title, but almost all the men he'd trained during his years as master-at-arms despised him. His name had been offered, of course, but after running a weak sixth on the first day and actually losing votes on the second, Thorne had withdrawn to support Lord Janos Slynt."},{"from":"human","value":"\"What everyone knows is that Ser Alliser is a knight from a noble line, and trueborn, while I'm the bastard who killed Qhorin Halfhand and bedded with a spearwife."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The warg, I've heard them call me. How can I be a warg without a wolf, I ask you?\" His mouth twisted. \"I don't even dream of Ghost anymore. All my dreams are of the crypts, of the stone kings on their thrones. Sometimes I hear Robb's voice, and my father's, as if they were at a feast. But there's a wall between us, and I know that no place has been set for me.\"\n\nThe living have no place at the feasts of the dead. It tore the heart from Sam to hold his silence then. Bran's not dead, Jon, he wanted to stay. He's with friends, and they're going north on a giant elk to find a three-eyed crow in the depths of the haunted forest. It sounded so mad that there were times Sam Tarly thought he must have dreamt it all, conjured it whole from fever and fear and hunger... but he would have blurted it out anyway, if he had not given his word.\n\nThree times he had sworn to keep the secret; once to Bran himself, once to that strange boy Jojen Reed, and last of all to Coldhands. \"The world believes the boy is dead,\" his rescuer had said as they parted. \"Let his bones lie undisturbed. We want no seekers coming after us. Swear it, Samwell of the Night's Watch. Swear it for the life you owe me.\"\n\nMiserable, Sam shifted his weight and said, \"Lord Janos will never be chosen Lord Commander.\" It was the best comfort he had to offer Jon, the only comfort. \"That won't happen.\"\n\n\"Sam, you're a sweet fool. Open your eyes. It's been happening for days.\" Jon pushed his hair back out of his eyes and said, \"I may know nothing, but I know that. Now pray excuse me, I need to hit someone very hard with a sword.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"There was naught that Sam could do but watch him stride off toward the armory and the practice yard. That was where Jon Snow spent most of his waking hours. With Ser Endrew dead and Ser Alliser disinterested, Castle Black had no master-at-arms, so Jon had taken it on himself to work with some of the rawer recruits; Satin, Horse, Hop-Robin with his clubfoot, Arron and Emrick. And when they had duties, he would train alone for hours with sword and shield and spear, or match himself against anyone who cared to take him on.\n\nSam, you're a sweet fool, he could hear Jon saying, all the way back to the maester's keep. Open your eyes. It's been happening for days. Could he be right? A man needed the votes of two-thirds of the Sworn Brothers to become the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and after nine days and nine votes no one was even close to that. Lord Janos had been gaining, true, creeping up past first Bowen Marsh and then Othell Yarwyck, but he was still well behind Ser Denys Mallister of the Shadow Tower and Cotter Pyke of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. One of them will be the new Lord Commander, surely, Sam told himself.\n\nStannis had posted guards outside the maester's door too. Within, the rooms were hot and crowded with the wounded from the battle; black brothers, king's men, and queen's men, all three. Clydas was shuffling amongst them with flagons of goats\" milk and dreamwine, but Maester Aemon had not yet returned from his morning call on Mance Rayder. Sam hung his cloak upon a peg and went to lend a hand. But even as he fetched and poured and changed dressings, Jon's words nagged at him. Sam, you're a sweet fool. Open your eyes. It's been happening for days."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was a good hour before he could excuse himself to feed the ravens. On the way up to the rookery, he stopped to check the tally he had made of last night's count. At the start of the choosing, more than thirty names had been offered, but most had withdrawn once it became clear they could not win. Seven remained as of last night. Ser Denys Mallister had collected two hundred and thirteen tokens, Cotter Pyke one hundred and eighty-seven, Lord Slynt seventy-four, Othell Yarwyck sixty, Bowen Marsh forty-nine, Three-Finger Hobb five, and Dolorous Edd Tollett one. Pyp and his stupid japes. Sam shuffled through the earlier counts. Ser Denys, Cotter Pyke, and Bowen Marsh had all been falling since the third day, Othell Yarwyck since the sixth. Only Lord Janos Slynt was climbing, day after day after day.\n\nHe could hear the birds quorking in the rookery, so he put the papers away and climbed the steps to feed them. Three more ravens had come in, he saw with pleasure. \"Snow,\" they cried at him. \"Snow, snow, snow.\" He had taught them that. Even with the newcomers, the ravenry seemed dismally empty. Few of the birds that Aemon had sent off had returned as yet. One reached Stannis, though. One found Dragonstone, and a king who still cared. A thousand leagues south, Sam knew, his father had joined House Tarly to the cause of the boy on the Iron Throne, but neither King Joffrey nor little King Tommen had bestirred himself when the Watch cried out for help. What good is a king who will not defend his realm? he thought angrily, remembering the night on the Fist of the First Men and the terrible trek to Craster's Keep through darkness, fear, and falling snow. The queen's men made him uneasy, it was true, but at least they had come."},{"from":"human","value":"That night at supper Sam looked for Jon Snow, but did not see him anywhere in the cavernous stone vault where the brothers now took their meals."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He finally took a place on the bench near his other friends. Pyp was telling Dolorous Edd about the contest they'd had to see which of the straw soldiers could collect the most wildling arrows. \"You were leading most of the way, but Watt of Long Lake got three in the last day and passed you.\"\n\n\"I never win anything,\" Dolorous Edd complained. \"The gods always smiled on Watt, though. When the wildlings knocked him off the Bridge of Skulls, somehow he landed in a nice deep pool of water. How lucky was that, missing all those rocks?\"\n\n\"Was it along fall?\" Grenn wanted to know. \"Did landing in the pool of water save his life?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Dolorous Edd. \"He was dead already, from that axe in his head. Still, it was pretty lucky, missing the rocks.\"\n\nThree-Finger Hobb had promised the brothers roast haunch of mammoth that night, maybe in hopes of cadging a few more votes. If that was his notion, he should have found a younger mammoth, Sam thought, as he pulled a string of gristle out from between his teeth. Sighing, he pushed the food away.\n\nThere would be another vote shortly, and the tensions in the air were thicker than the smoke. Cotter Pyke sat by the fire, surrounded by rangers from Eastwatch. Ser Denys Mallister was near the door with a smaller group of Shadow Tower men. Janos Slynt has the best place, Sam realized, halfway between the flames and the drafts. He was alarmed to see Bowen Marsh beside him, wan-faced and haggard, his head still wrapped in linen, but listening to all that Lord Janos had to say. When he pointed that out to his friends, Pyp said, \"And look down there, that's Ser Alliser whispering with Othell Yarwyck.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"After the meal Maester Aemon rose to ask if any of the brothers wished to speak before they cast their tokens. Dolorous Edd got up, stone-faced and glum as ever. \"I just want to say to whoever is voting for me that I would certainly make an awful Lord Commander. But so would all these others.\" He was followed by Bowen Marsh, who stood with one hand on Lord Slynt's shoulder. \"Brothers and friends, I am asking that my name be withdrawn from this choosing. My wound still troubles me, and the task is too large for me, I fear... but not for Lord Janos here, who commanded the gold cloaks of King's Landing for many years. Let us all give him our support.\"\n\nSam heard angry mutters from Cotter Pyke's end of the room, and Ser Denys looked atone of his companions and shook his head. It is too late, the damage is done. He wondered where Jon was, and why he had stayed away.\n\nMost of the brothers were unlettered, so by tradition the choosing was done by dropping tokens into a big potbellied iron kettle that Three-Finger Hobb and Owen the Oaf had dragged over from the kitchens. The barrels of tokens were off in a corner behind a heavy drape, so the voters could make their choice unseen. You were allowed to have a friend cast your token if you had duty, so some men took two tokens, three, or four, and Ser Denys and Cotter Pyke voted for the garrisons they had left behind.\n\nWhen the hall was finally empty, save for them, Sam and Clydas upended the kettle in front of Maester Aemon. A cascade of seashells, stones, and copper pennies covered the table. Aemon's wrinkled hands sorted with surprising speed, moving the shells here, the stones there, the pennies to one side, the occasional arrowhead, nail, and acorn off to themselves. Sam and Clydas counted the piles, each of them keeping his own tally."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tonight it was Sam's turn to give his results first. \"Two hundred and three for Ser Denys Mallister,\" he said. \"One hundred and sixty-nine for Cotter Pyke. One hundred and thirty-seven for Lord Janos Slynt, seventy-two for Othell Yarwyck, five for Three-Finger Hobb, and two for Dolorous Edd.\"\n\n\"I had one hundred and sixty-eight for Pyke,\" Clydas said. \"We are two votes short by my count, and one by Sam's.\"\n\n\"Sam's count is correct,\" said Maester Aemon. \"Jon Snow did not cast a token. It makes no matter. No one is close.\"\n\nSam was more relieved than disappointed. Even with Bowen Marsh's support, Lord Janos was still only third. \"Who are these five who keep voting for Three-Finger Hobb?\" he wondered.\n\n\"Brothers who want him out of the kitchens?\" said Clydas.\n\n\"Ser Denys is down ten votes since yesterday,\" Sam pointed out. \"And Cotter Pyke is down almost twenty. That's not good.\"\n\n\"Not good for their hopes of becoming Lord Commander, certainly,\" said Maester Aemon. \"Yet it maybe good for the Night's Watch, in the end. That is not for us to say. Ten days is not unduly long. There was once a choosing that lasted near two years, some seven hundred votes. The brothers will come to a decision in their own time.\"\n\nYes, Sam thought, but what decision?\n\nLater, over cups of watered wine in the privacy of Pyp's cell, Sam's tongue loosened and he found himself thinking aloud. \"Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister have been losing ground, but between them they still have almost two-thirds,\" he told Pyp and Grenn. \"Either one would be fine as Lord Commander. Someone needs to convince one of them to withdraw and support the other.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Someone?\" said Grenn, doubtfully. \"What someone?\"\n\n\"Grenn is so dumb he thinks someone might be him,\" said Pyp. \"Maybe when someone is done with Pyke and Mallister, he should convince King Stannis to marry Queen Cersei too.\"\n\n\"King Stannis is married,\" Grenn objected.\n\n\"What am I going to do with him, Sam?\" sighed Pyp.\n\n\"Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys don't like each other much,\" Grenn argued stubbornly. \"They fight about everything.\"\n\n\"Yes, but only because they have different ideas about what's best for the Watch,\" said Sam. \"If we explained-\"\n\n\"We?\" said Pyp. \"How did someone change to we? I'm the mummer's monkey, remember? And Grenn is, well, Grenn.\" He smiled at Sam, and wiggled his ears. \"You, now... you're a lord's son, and the maester's steward...\"\n\n\"And Sam the Slayer,\" said Grenn. \"You slew an Other.\"\n\n\"It was the dragonglass that killed it,\" Sam told him for the hundredth time.\n\n\"A lord's son, the maester's steward, and Sam the Slayer,\" Pyp mused. \"You could talk to them, might be...\"\n\n\"I could,\" said Sam, sounding as gloomy as Dolorous Edd, \"if I wasn't too craven to face them.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"JON\n\nJon prowled around Satin in a slow circle, sword in hand, forcing him to turn. \"Get your shield up,\" he said.\n\nIt's too heavy,\" the Oldtown boy complained.\n\n\"It's as heavy as it needs to be to stop a sword,\" Jon said. \"Now get it up.\" He stepped forward, slashing. Satin jerked the shield up in time to catch the sword on its rim, and swung his own blade at Jon's ribs. \"Good,\" Jon said, when he felt the impact on his own shield. \"That was good. But you need to put your body into it. Get your weight behind the steel and you'll do more damage than with arm strength alone. Come, try it again, drive at me, but keep the shield up or I'll ring your head like a bell...\"\n\nInstead Satin took a step backward and raised his visor. \"Jon,\" he said, in an anxious voice.\n\nWhen he turned, she was standing behind him, with half a dozen queen's men around her. Small wonder the yard grew so quiet. He had glimpsed Melisandre at her nightfires, and coming and going about the castle, but never so close. She's beautiful, he thought... but there was something more than a little unsettling about red eyes. \"My lady.\"\n\n\"The king would speak with you, Jon Snow.\"\n\nJon thrust the practice sword into the earth. \"Might I be allowed to change? I am in no fit state to stand before a king.\"\n\n\"We shall await you atop the Wall,\" said Melisandre. We, Jon heard, not he. It's as they say. This is his true queen, not the one he left at Eastwatch.\n\nHe hung his mail and plate inside the armory, returned to his own cell, discarded his sweat-stained clothes, and donned afresh set of blacks. It would be cold and windy in the cage, he knew, and colder and windier still on top of the ice, so he chose a heavy hooded cloak. Last of all he collected Longclaw, and slung the bastard sword across his back."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Melisandre was waiting for him at the base of the Wall. She had sent her queen's men away. \"What does His Grace want of me?\" Jon asked her as they entered the cage.\n\n\"All you have to give, Jon Snow. He is a king.\"\n\nHe shut the door and pulled the bell cord. The winch began to turn. They rose. The day was bright and the Wall was weeping, long fingers of water trickling down its face and glinting in the sun. In the close confines of the iron cage, he was acutely aware of the red woman's presence. She even smells red. The scent reminded him of Mikken's forge, of the way iron smelled when red-hot; the scent was smoke and blood. Kissed by fire, he thought, remembering Ygritte. The wind got in amongst Melisandre's long red robes and sent them flapping against Jon's legs as he stood beside her. \"You are not cold, my lady?\" he asked her.\n\nShe laughed. \"Never.\" The ruby at her throat seemed to pulse, in time with the beating of her heart. \"The Lord's fire lives within me, Jon Snow. Feel.\" She put her hand on his cheek, and held it there while he felt how warm she was. \"That is how life should feel,\" she told him. \"Only death is cold.\"\n\nThey found Stannis Baratheon standing alone at the edge of the Wall, brooding over the field where he had won his battle, and the great green forest beyond. He was dressed in the same black breeches, tunic, and boots that a brother of the Night's Watch might wear. Only his cloak set him apart; a heavy golden cloak trimmed in black fur, and pinned with a brooch in the shape of a flaming heart. \"I have brought you the Bastard of Winterfell, Your Grace,\" said Melisandre."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Stannis turned to study him. Beneath his heavy brow were eyes like bottomless blue pools. His hollow cheeks and strong jaw were covered with a short-cropped blue-black beard that did little to conceal the gauntness of his face, and his teeth were clenched. His neck and shoulders were clenched as well, and his right hand. Jon found himself remembering something Donal Noye once said about the Baratheon brothers. Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends. Uneasily, he knelt, wondering why this brittle king had need of him.\n\n\"Rise. I have heard much and more of you, Lord Snow.\"\n\n\"I am no lord, sire.\" Jon rose. \"I know what you have heard. That I am a turncloak, and craven. That I slew my brother Qhorin Halfhand so the wildlings would spare my life. That I rode with Mance Rayder, and took a wildling wife.\"\n\n\"Aye. All that, and more. You area warg too, they say, a skinchanger who walks at night as a wolf.\" King Stannis had a hard smile. \"How much of it is true?\"\n\n\"I had a direwolf, Ghost. I left him when I climbed the Wall near Greyguard, and have not seen him since. Qhorin Halfhand commanded me to join the wildlings. He knew they would make me kill him to prove myself, and told me to do whatever they asked of me. The woman was named Ygritte. I broke my vows with her, but I swear to you on my father's name that I never turned my cloak.\"\n\n\"I believe you,\" the king said."},{"from":"human","value":"That startled him."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Why?\"\n\nStannis snorted. \"I know Janos Slynt. And I knew Ned Stark as well. Your father was no friend of mine, but only a fool would doubt his honor or his honesty. You have his look.\" A big man, Stannis Baratheon towered over Jon, but he was so gaunt that he looked ten years older than he was. \"I know more than you might think, Jon Snow. I know it was you who found the dragonglass dagger that Randyll Tarly's son used to slay the Other.\"\n\n\"Ghost found it. The blade was wrapped in a ranger's cloak and buried beneath the Fist of the First Men. There were other blades as well... spearheads, arrowheads, all dragonglass.\"\n\n\"I know you held the gate here,\" King Stannis said. \"If not, I would have come too late.\"\n\n\"Donal Noye held the gate. He died below in the tunnel, fighting the king of the giants.\"\n\nStannis grimaced. \"Noye made my first sword for me, and Robert's warhammer as well. Had the god seen fit to spare him, he would have made a better Lord Commander for your order than any of these fools who are squabbling over it now.\"\n\n\"Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister are no fools, sire,\" Jon said. \"They're good men, and capable. Othell Yarwyck as well, in his own way. Lord Mormont trusted each of them.\"\n\n\"Your Lord Mormont trusted too easily. Else he would not have died as he did. But we were speaking of you. I have not forgotten that it was you who brought us this magic horn, and captured Mance Rayder's wife and son.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 76\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"It's done, Jon thought, they're breaking.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The wildlings were running, throwing down their weapons, Hornfoot men and cave dwellers and Thenns in bronze scales, they were running. Mance was gone, someone was waving Harma's head on a pole, Tormund's lines had broken. Only the giants on their mammoths were holding, hairy islands in a red steel sea. The fires were leaping from tent to tent and some of the tall pines were going up as well. And through the smoke another wedge of armored riders came, on barded horses. Floating above them were the largest banners yet, royal standards as big as sheets; a yellow one with long pointed tongues that showed a flaming heart, and another like a sheet of beaten gold, with a black stag prancing and rippling in the wind.\\n\\nRobert, Jon thought for one mad moment, remembering poor Owen, but when the trumpets blew again and the knights charged, the name they cried was'Stannis! Stannis! STANNIS!\\\"\\n\\nJon turned away, and went inside the tent.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"ARYA\\n\\nOutside the inn on a weathered gibbet, a woman's bones were twisting and rattling at every gust of wind.\\n\\nI know this inn. There hadn't been a gibbet outside the door when she had slept herewith her sister Sansa under the watchful eye of Septa Mordane, though. \\\"We don't want to go in,\\\" Arya decided suddenly, \\\"there might be ghosts.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You know how long it's been since I had a cup of wine?\\\" Sandor swung down from the saddle. \\\"Besides, we need to learn who holds the ruby ford. Stay with the horses if you want, it's no hair off my arse.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What if they know you?\\\" Sandor no longer troubled to hide his face. He no longer seemed to care who knew him. \\\"They might want to take you captive.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Let them try.\\\" He loosened his longsword in its scabbard, and pushed through the door.\\n\\nArya would never have a better chance to escape. She could ride off on Craven and take Stranger too. She chewed her lip. Then she led the horses to the stables, and went in after him.\\n\\nThey know him. The silence told her that. But that wasn't the worst thing. She knew them too. Not the skinny innkeep, nor the women, nor the fieldhands by the hearth. But the others. The soldiers. She knew the soldiers.\\n\\n\\\"Looking for your brother, Sandor?\\\" Polliver's hand was down the bodice of the girl on his lap, but now he slid it out.\\n\\n\\\"Looking fora cup of wine. Innkeep, a flagon of red.\\\" Clegane threw a handful of coppers on the floor.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I don't want no trouble, ser,\\\" the innkeep said.\\n\\n\\\"Then don't call me ser.\\\" His mouth twitched. \\\"Are you deaf, fool? I ordered wine.\\\" As the man ran off, Clegane shouted after him, \\\"Two cups! The girl's thirsty too!\\\"\\n\\nThere are only three, Arya thought. Polliver gave her a fleeting glance and the boy beside him never looked at her at all, but the third one gazed long and hard. He was a man of middling height and build, with a face so ordinary that it was hard to say how old he was. The Tickler. The Tickler and Polliver both. The boy was a squire, judging by his age and dress. He had a big white pimple on one side of his nose, and some red ones on his forehead. \\\"Is this the lost puppy Ser Gregor spoke of?\\\" he asked the Tickler. \\\"The one who piddled in the rushes and ran off?\\\"\\n\\nThe Tickler put a warning hand on the boy's arm, and gave a short sharp shake of his head. Arya read that plain enough.\\n\\nThe squire didn't, or else he didn't care. \\\"Ser said his puppy brother tucked his tail between his legs when the battle got too warm at King's Landing. He said he ran off whimpering.\\\" He gave the Hound a stupid mocking grin.\\n\\nClegane studied the boy and never said a word. Polliver shoved the girl off his lap and got to his feet. \\\"The lad's drunk,\\\" he said. The man-at-arms was almost as tall as the Hound, though not so heavily muscled. A spade-shaped beard covered his jaws and jowls, thick and black and neatly trimmed, but his head was more bald than not. \\\"He can't hold his wine, is all.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Then he shouldn't drink.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The puppy doesn't scare...\\\" the boy began, till the Tickler casually twisted his ear between thumb and forefinger. The words became a squeal of pain.\\n\\nThe innkeep came scurrying back with two stone cups and a flagon on a pewter platter. Sandor lifted the flagon to his mouth. Arya could seethe muscles in his neck working as he gulped. When he slammed it back down on the table, half the wine was gone. \\\"Now you can pour. Best pickup those coppers too, it's the only coin you're like to see today.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We'll pay when we're done drinking,\\\" said Polliver.\\n\\n\\\"When you're done drinking you'll tickle the innkeep to see where he keeps his gold. The way you always do.\\\"\\n\\nThe innkeep suddenly remembered something in the kitchen. The locals were leaving too, and the girls were gone. The only sound in the common room was the faint crackling of the fire in the hearth. We should go too, Arya knew.\\n\\n\\\"If you're looking for Ser, you come too late,\\\" Polliver said. \\\"He was at Harrenhal, but now he's not. The queen sent for him.\\\" He wore three blades on his belt, Arya saw; a longsword on his left hip, and on his right a dagger and a slimmer blade, too long to be a dirk and too short to be a sword. \\\"King Joffrey's dead, you know,\\\" he added. \\\"Poisoned at his own wedding feast.\\\"\\n\\nArya edged farther into the room. Joffrey's dead. She could almost see him, with his blond curls and his mean smile and his fat soft lips. Joffrey's dead! She knew it ought to make her happy, but somehow she still felt empty inside. Joffrey was dead, but if Robb was dead too, what did it matter?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So much for my brave brothers of the Kingsguard.\\\" The Hound gave a snort of contempt. \\\"Who killed him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Imp, it's thought. Him and his little wife.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What wife?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I forgot, you've been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head.\\\"\\n\\nThat's stupid, Arya thought. Sansa only knows songs, not spells, and she'd never marry the Imp.\\n\\nThe Hound sat on the bench closest to the door. His mouth twitched, but only the burned side. \\\"She ought to dip him in wildfire and cook him. Or tickle him till the moon turns black.\\\" He raised his wine cup and drained it straightaway.\\n\\nHe's one of them, Arya thought when she saw that. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. He's just like they are. I should kill him when he sleeps.\\n\\n\\\"So Gregor took Harrenhal?\\\" Sandor said.\\n\\n\\\"Didn't require much taking,\\\" said Polliver. \\\"The sellswords fled as soon as they knew we were coming, all but a few. One of the cooks opened a postern gate for us, to get back at Hoat for cutting off his foot.\\\" He chuckled. \\\"We kept him to cook for us, a couple wenches to warm our beds, and put all the rest to the sword.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All the rest?\\\" Arya blurted out.\\n\\n\\\"Well, Ser kept Hoat to pass the time.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sandor said, \\\"The Blackfish is still in Riverrun?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not for long,\\\" said Polliver. \\\"He's under siege. Old Frey's going to hang Edmure Tully unless he yields the castle. The only real fighting's around Raventree. Blackwoods and Brackens. The Brackens are ours now.\\\"\\n\\nThe Hound poured a cup of wine for Arya and another for himself, and drank it down while staring at the hearthfire. \\\"The little bird flew away, did she? Well, bloody good for her. She shit on the Imp's head and flew off.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They'll find her,\\\" said Polliver. \\\"If it takes half the gold in Casterly Rock.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A pretty girl, I hear,\\\" said the Tickler. \\\"Honey sweet.\\\" He smacked his lips and smiled.\\n\\n\\\"And courteous,\\\" the Hound agreed. \\\"A proper little lady. Not like her bloody sister.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They found her too,\\\" said Polliver. \\\"The sister. She's for Bolton's bastard, I hear.\\\"\\n\\nArya sipped her wine so they could not see her mouth. She didn't understand what Polliver was talking about. Sansa has no other sister. Sandor Clegane laughed aloud.\\n\\n\\\"What's so bloody funny?\\\" asked Polliver.\\n\\nThe Hound never flicked an eye at Arya. \\\"If I'd wanted you to know, I'd have told you. Are there ships at Saltpans?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Saltpans? How should I know? The traders are back at Maidenpool, I heard. Randyll Tarly took the castle and locked Mooton in a tower cell. I haven't heard shit about Saltpans.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Tickler leaned forward. \\\"Would you put to sea without bidding farewell to your brother?\\\" It gave Arya chills to hear him ask a question. \\\"Ser would sooner you returned to Harrenhal with us, Sandor. I bet he would. Or King's Landing...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bugger that. Bugger him. Bugger you.\\\"\\n\\nThe Tickler shrugged, straightened, and reached a hand behind his head to rub the back of his neck. Everything seemed to happen at once then; Sandor lurched to his feet, Polliver drew his longsword, and the Tickler's hand whipped around in a blur to send something silver flashing across the common room. If the Hound had not been moving, the knife might have cored the apple of his throat; instead it only grazed his ribs, and wound up quivering in the wall near the door. He laughed then, a laugh as cold and hollow as if it had come from the bottom of a deep well. \\\"I was hoping you'd do something stupid.\\\" His sword slid from its scabbard just in time to knock aside Polliver's first cut.\\n\\nArya took a step backward as the long steel song began. The Tickler came off the bench with a shortsword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Even the chunky brown-haired squire was up, fumbling for his swordhilt. She snatched her wine cup off the table and threw it at his face. Her aim was better than it had been at the Twins. The cup hit him right on his big white pimple and he went down hard on his tail.\\n\\nPolliver was a grim, methodical fighter, and he pressed Sandor steadily backward, his heavy longsword moving with brutal precision. The Hound's own cuts were sloppier, his parries rushed, his feet slow and clumsy. He's drunk, Arya realized with dismay. He drank too much too fast, with no food in his belly. And the Tickler was sliding around the wall to get behind him. She grabbed the second wine cup and flung it at him, but he was quicker than the squire had been and ducked his head in time. The look he gave her then was cold with promise. Is there gold hidden in the village? she could hear him ask. The stupid squire was clutching the edge of a table and pulling himself to his knees. Arya could taste the beginnings of panic in the back of her throat. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fears cuts deeper...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sandor gave a grunt of pain. The burned side of his face ran red from temple to cheek, and the stub of his ear was gone. That seemed to make him angry. He drove back Polliver with a furious attack, hammering at him with the old nicked longsword he had swapped for in the hills. The bearded man gave way, but none of the cuts so much as touched him. And then the Tickler leapt over a bench quick as a snake, and slashed at the back of the Hound's neck with the edge of his short sword.\\n\\nThey're killing him. Arya had no more cups, but there was something better to throw. She drew the dagger they'd robbed off the dying archer and tried to fling it at the Tickler the way he'd done. It wasn't the same as throwing a rock or a crabapple, though. The knife wobbled, and hit him in the arm hilt first. He never even felt it. He was too intent on Clegane.\\n\\nAshe stabbed, Clegane twisted violently aside, winning himself half a heartbeat's respite. Blood ran down his face and from the gash in his neck. Both of the Mountain's men came after him hard, Polliver hacking at his head and shoulders while the Tickler darted into stab at back and belly. The heavy stone flagon was still on the table. Arya grabbed it with two hands, but as she lifted it someone grabbed her arm. The flagon slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor. Wrenched around, she found herself nose to nose with the squire. You stupid, you forgot all about him. His big white pimple had burst, she saw.\\n\\n\\\"Are you the puppy's puppy?\\\" He had his sword in his right hand and her arm in his left, but her own hands were free, so she jerked his knife from its sheath and sheathed it again in his belly, twisting. He wasn't wearing mail or even boiled leather, so it went right in, the same way Needle had when she killed the stableboy at King's Landing. The squire's eyes got big and he let goof her arm. Arya spun to the door and wrenched the Tickler's knife from the wall.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Polliver and the Tickler had driven the Hound into a corner behind a bench, and one of them had given him an ugly red gash on his upper thigh to go with his other wounds. Sandor was leaning against the wall, bleeding and breathing noisily. He looked as though he could barely stand, let alone fight. \\\"Throw down the sword, and we'll take you back to Harrenhal,\\\" Polliver told him.\\n\\n\\\"So Gregor can finish me himself?\\\"\\n\\nThe Tickler said, \\\"Maybe he'll give you tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If you want me, come get me.\\\" Sandor pushed away from the wall and stood in a half-crouch behind the bench, his sword held across his body.\\n\\n\\\"You think we won't?\\\" said Polliver. \\\"You're drunk.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Might be,\\\" said the Hound, \\\"but you're dead.\\\" His foot lashed out and caught the bench, driving it hard into Polliver's shins. Somehow the bearded man kept his feet, but the Hound ducked under his wild slash and brought his own sword up in a vicious backhand cut. Blood spattered on the ceiling and walls. The blade caught in the middle of Polliver's face, and when the Hound wrenched it loose half his head came with it.\\n\\nThe Tickler backed away. Arya could smell his fear. The shortsword in his hand suddenly seemed almost a toy against the long blade the Hound was holding, and he wasn't armored either. He moved swiftly, light on his feet, never taking his eyes off Sandor Clegane. It was the easiest thing in the world for Arya to step up behind him and stab him.\\n\\n\\\"Is there gold hidden in the village?\\\" she shouted as she drove the blade up through his back. \\\"Is there silver? Gems?\\\" She stabbed twice more. \\\"Is there food? Where is Lord Beric?\\\" She was on top of him by then, still stabbing. \\\"Where did he go? How many men were with him? How many knights? How many bowmen? How many, how many, how many, how many, how many, how many? Is there gold in the village?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Her hands were red and sticky when Sandor dragged her off him. \\\"Enough,\\\" was all he said. He was bleeding like a butchered pig himself, and dragging one leg when he walked.\\n\\n\\\"There's one more,\\\" Arya reminded him.\\n\\nThe squire had pulled the knife out of his belly and was trying to stop the blood with his hands. When the Hound yanked him upright, he screamed and started to blubber like a baby. \\\"Mercy,\\\" he wept, \\\"please. Don't kill me. Mother have mercy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do I look like your bloody mother?\\\" The Hound looked like nothing human. \\\"You killed this one too,\\\" he told Arya. \\\"Pricked him in his bowels, that's the end of him. He'll be along time dying, though.\\\"\\n\\nThe boy didn't seemed to hear him. \\\"I came for the girls,\\\" he whimpered. \\\"... make me a man, Polly said... oh, gods, please, take me to a castle... a maester, take me to a maester, my father's got gold... it was only for the girls... mercy, ser.\\\"\\n\\nThe Hound gave him a crack across the face that made him scream again. \\\"Don't call me ser.\\\" He turned back to Arya. \\\"This one is yours, she-wolf. You do it.\\\"\\n\\nShe knew what he meant. Arya went to Polliver and knelt in his blood long enough to undo his swordbelt. Hanging beside his dagger was a slimmer blade, too long to be a dirk, too short to be a man's sword... but it felt just right in her hand.\\n\\n\\\"You remember where the heart is?\\\" the Hound asked.\\n\\nShe nodded. The squire rolled his eyes. \\\"Mercy.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Needle slipped between his ribs and gave it to him.\\n\\n\\\"Good.\\\" Sandor's voice was thick with pain. \\\"If these three were whoring here, Gregor must hold the ford as well as Harrenhal. More of his pets could ride up any moment, and we've killed enough of the bloody buggers for one day.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where will we go?\\\" she asked.\\n\\n\\\"Saltpans.\\\" He put a big hand on her shoulder to keep from falling. \\\"Get some wine, she-wolf. And take whatever coin they have as well, we'll need it. If there's ships at Saltpans, we can reach the Vale by sea.\\\" His mouth twitched at her, as more blood ran down from where his ear had been. \\\"Maybe Lady Lysa will marry you to her little Robert. There's a match I'd like to see.\\\" He started to laugh, then groaned instead.\\n\\nWhen the time came to leave, he needed Arya's help to get backup on Stranger. He had tied a strip of cloth about his neck and another around his thigh, and taken the squire's cloak off its peg by the door. The cloak was green, with a green arrow on a white bend, but when the Hound wadded it up and pressed it to his ear it soon turned red. Arya was afraid he would collapse the moment they set out, but somehow he stayed in the saddle.\\n\\nThey could not risk meeting whoever held the ruby ford, so instead of following the kingsroad they angled south by east, through weedy fields, woods, and marshes. It was hours before they reached the banks of the Trident. The river had returned meekly to its accustomed channel, Arya saw, all its wet brown rage vanished with the rains. It's tired too, she thought.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Close by the water's edge, they found some willows rising from a jumble of weathered rocks.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Together the rocks and trees formed a sort of natural fort where they could hide from both river and trail. \\\"Here will do,\\\" the Hound said. \\\"Water the horses and gather some deadwood fora fire.\\\" When he dismounted, he had to catch himself on a tree limb to keep from falling.\\n\\n\\\"Won't the smoke be seen?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Anyone wants to find us, all they need to do is follow my blood. Water and wood. But bring me that wineskin first.\\\"\\n\\nWhen he got the fire going, Sandor propped up his helm in the flames, emptied half the wineskin into it, and collapsed back against a jut of moss-covered stone as if he never meant to rise again. He made Arya washout the squire's cloak and cut it into strips. Those went into his helm as well. \\\"If I had more wine, I'd drink till I was dead to the world. Maybe I ought to send you back to that bloody inn for another skin or three.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Arya said. He wouldn't, would he? If he does, I'll just leave him and ride off.\\n\\nSandor laughed at the fear on her face. \\\"A jest, wolf girl. A bloody jest. Find me a stick, about so long and not too big around. And wash the mud off it. I hate the taste of mud.\\\"\\n\\nHe didn't like the first two sticks she brought him. By the time she found one that suited him, the flames had scorched his dog's snout black all the way to the eyes. Inside the wine was boiling madly. \\\"Get the cup from my bedroll and dip it half full,\\\" he told her. \\\"Be careful. You knock the damn thing over, I will send you back for more. Take the wine and pour it on my wounds. Think you can do that?\\\" Arya nodded. \\\"Then what are you waiting for?\\\" he growled.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Her knuckles brushed the steel the first time she filled the cup, burning her so badly she got blisters. Arya had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. The Hound used the stick for the same purpose, clamping it between his teeth as she poured. She did the gash in his thigh first, then the shallower cut on the back of his neck. Sandor coiled his right hand into a fist and beat against the ground when she did his leg. When it came to his neck, he bit the stick so hard it broke, and she had to find him anew one. She could seethe terror in his eyes. \\\"Turn your head.\\\" She trickled the wine down over the raw red flesh where his ear had been, and fingers of brown blood and red wine crept over his jaw. He did scream then, despite the stick. Then he passed out from the pain.\\n\\nArya figured the rest out by herself. She fished the strips they'd made of the squire's cloak out of the bottom of the helm and used them to bind the cuts. When she came to his ear, she had to wrap up half his head to stop the bleeding. By then dusk was settling over the Trident. She let the horses graze, then hobbled them for the night and made herself as comfortable as she could in a niche between two rocks. The fire burned awhile and died. Arya watched the moon through the branches overhead.\\n\\n\\\"Ser Gregor the Mountain,\\\" she said softly. \\\"Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei.\\\" It made her feel queer to leave out Polliver and the Tickler. And Joffrey too. She was glad he was dead, but she wished she could have been thereto see him die, or maybe kill him herself. Polliver said that Sansa killed him, and the Imp. Could that be true? The Imp was a Lannister, and Sansa... I wish I could change into a wolf and grow wings and flyaway.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"If Sansa was gone too, there were no more Starks but her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jon was on the Wall a thousand leagues away, but he was a Snow, and these different aunts and uncles the Hound wanted to sell her to, they weren't Starks either. They weren't wolves.\\n\\nSandor moaned, and she rolled onto her side to look at him. She had left his name out too, she realized. Why had she done that? She tried to think of Mycah, but it was hard to remember what he'd looked like. She hadn't known him long. All he ever did was play at swords with me. \\\"The Hound,\\\" she whispered, and, \\\"Valar morghulis.\\\" Maybe he'd be dead by morning...\\n\\nBut when the pale dawn light came filtering through the trees, it was him who woke her with the toe of his boot. She had dreamed she was a wolf again, chasing a riderless horse up a hill with a pack behind her, but his foot brought her back just as they were closing for the kill.\\n\\nThe Hound was still weak, every movement slow and clumsy. He slumped in the saddle, and sweated, and his ear began to bleed through the bandage. He needed all his strength just to keep from falling off Stranger. Had the Mountain's men come hunting them, she doubted if he would even be able to lift a sword. Arya glanced over her shoulder, but there was nothing behind them but a crow flitting from tree to tree. The only sound was the river.\\n\\nLong before noon, Sandor Clegane was reeling. There were hours of daylight still remaining when he called a halt. \\\"I need to rest,\\\" was all he said. This time when he dismounted he did fall. Instead of trying to get backup he crawled weakly under a tree, and leaned up against the trunk. \\\"Bloody hell,\\\" he cursed. \\\"Bloody hell.\\\" When he saw Arya staring at him, he said, \\\"I'd skin you alive fora cup of wine, girl.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She brought him water instead. He drank a little of it, complained that it tasted of mud, and slid into a noisy fevered sleep. When she touched him, his skin was burning up. Arya sniffed at his bandages the way Maester Luwin had done sometimes when treating her cut or scrape. His face had bled the worst, but it was the wound on his thigh that smelled funny to her.\\n\\nShe wondered how far this Saltpans was, and whether she could find it by herself. I wouldn't have to kill him. If I just rode off and left him, he'd die all by himself. He'll die of fever, and lie there beneath that tree until the end of days. But maybe it would be better if she killed him herself. She had killed the squire at the inn and he hadn't done anything except grab her arm. The Hound had killed Mycah. Mycah and more. I bet he's killed a hundred Mycahs. He probably would have killed her too, if not for the ransom.\\n\\nNeedle glinted as she drew it. Polliver had kept it nice and sharp, at least. She turned her body sideways in a water dancer's stance without even thinking about it. Dead leaves crunched beneath her feet. Quick as a snake, she thought. Smooth as summer silk.\\n\\nHis eyes opened. \\\"You remember where the heart is?\\\" he asked in a hoarse whisper.\\n\\nAs still as stone she stood. \\\"I... I was only...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't lie,\\\" he growled. \\\"I hate liars. I hate gutless frauds even worse. Goon, do it.\\\" When Arya did not move, he said, \\\"I killed your butcher's boy. I cut him near in half, and laughed about it after.\\\" He made a queer sound, and it took her a moment to realize he was sobbing. \\\"And the little bird, your pretty sister, I stood therein my white cloak and let them beat her. I took the bloody song, she never gave it. I meant to take her too. I should have. I should have fucked her bloody and ripped her heart out before leaving her for that dwarf.\\\" A spasm of pain twisted his face. \\\"Do you mean to make me beg, bitch? Do it! The gift of mercy... avenge your little Michael...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Mycah.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Arya stepped away from him. \\\"You don't deserve the gift of mercy.\\\"\\n\\nThe Hound watched her saddle Craven through eyes bright with fever. Not once did he attempt to rise and stop her. But when she mounted, he said, \\\"Areal wolf would finish a wounded animal.\\\"\\n\\nMaybe some real wolves will find you, Arya thought. Maybe they'll smell you when the sun goes down. Then he would learn what wolves did to dogs. \\\"You shouldn't have hit me with an axe,\\\" she said. \\\"You should have saved my mother.\\\" She turned her horse and rode away from him, and never looked back once.\\n\\nOn a bright morning six days later, she came to a place where the Trident began to widen out and the air smelled more of salt than trees. She stayed close to the water, passing fields and farms, and a little after midday a town appeared before her. Saltpans, she hoped. A small castle dominated the town; no more than a holdfast, really, a single tall square keep with a bailey and a curtain wall. Most of the shops and inns and alehouses around the harbor had been plundered or burned, though some looked still inhabited. But the port was there, and eastward spread the Bay of Crabs, its waters shimmering blue and green in the sun.\\n\\nAnd there were ships.\\n\\nThree, thought Arya, there are three. Two were only river galleys, shallow draft boats made to ply the waters of the Trident. The third was bigger, a salt sea trader with two banks of oars, a gilded prow, and three tall masts with furled purple sails. Her hull was painted purple too. Arya rode Craven down to the docks to get a better look. Strangers are not so strange in a port as they are in little villages, and no one seemed to care who she was or why she was here.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I need silver. The realization made her bite her lip. They had found a stag and a dozen coppers on Polliver, eight silvers on the pimply squire she'd killed, and only a couple of pennies in the Tickler's purse. But the Hound had told her to pull off his boots and slice open his blood-drenched clothes, and she'd turned up a stag in each toe, and three golden dragons sewn in the lining of his jerkin. Sandor had kept it all, though. That wasn't fair. It was mine as much as his. If she had given him the gift of mercy... she hadn't, though. She couldn't go back, no more than she could beg for help. Begging for help never gets you any. She would have to sell Craven, and hope she brought enough.\\n\\nThe stable had been burnt, she learned from a boy by the docks, but the woman who'd owned it was still trading behind the sept. Arya found her easily; a big, robust woman with a good horsey smell to her. She liked Craven at first look, asked Arya how she'd come by her, and grinned at her answer. \\\"She's a well-bred horse, that's plain enough, and I don't doubt she belonged to a knight, sweetling,\\\" she said. \\\"But the knight wasn't no dead brother o'yours. I been dealing with the castle there many a year, so I know what gentleborn folk is like. This mare is well-bred, but you're not.\\\" She poked a finger at Arya's chest. \\\"Found her or stole her, never mind which, that's how it was. Only way a scruffy little thing like you comes to ride a palfrey.\\\"\\n\\nArya bit her lip. \\\"Does that mean you won't buy her?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The woman chuckled.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It means you'll take what I give you, sweetling. Else we go down to the castle, and maybe you get nothing. Or even hanged, for stealing some good knight's horse.\\\"\\n\\nA half-dozen other Saltpans folks were around, going about their business, so Arya knew she couldn't kill the woman. Instead she had to bite her lip and let herself be cheated. The purse she got was pitifully flat, and when she asked for more for the saddle and bridle and blanket, the woman just laughed at her.\\n\\nShe would never have cheated the Hound, she thought during the long walk back to the docks. The distance seemed to have grown by miles since she'd ridden it.\\n\\nThe purple galley was still there. If the ship had sailed while she was being robbed, that would have been too much to bear. A cask of mead was being rolled up the plank when she arrived. When she tried to follow, a sailor upon deck shouted down at her in a tongue she did not know. \\\"I want to seethe captain,\\\" Arya told him. He only shouted louder. But the commotion drew the attention of a stout grey-haired man in a coat of purple wool, and he spoke the Common Tongue. \\\"I am captain here,\\\" he said. \\\"What is your wish? Be quick, child, we have a tide to catch.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to go north, to the Wall. Here, I can pay.\\\" She gave him the purse. \\\"The Night's Watch has a castle on the sea.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Eastwatch.\\\" The captain spilled out the silver onto his palm and frowned. \\\"Is this all you have?\\\"\\n\\nIt is not enough, Arya knew without being told. She could see it on his face. \\\"I wouldn't need a cabin or anything,\\\" she said. \\\"I could sleep down in the hold, or...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Take heron as cabin girl,\\\" said a passing oarsman, a bolt of wool over one shoulder. \\\"She can sleep with me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Mind your tongue,\\\" the captain snapped.\\n\\n\\\"I could work,\\\" said Arya. \\\"I could scrub the decks. I scrubbed a castle steps once. Or I could row...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" he said, \\\"you couldn't.\\\" He gave her back her coins. \\\"It would make no difference if you could, child. The north has nothing for us. Ice and war and pirates. We saw a dozen pirate ships making north as we rounded Crackclaw Point, and I have no wish to meet them again. From here we bend our oars for home, and I suggest you do the same.\\\"\\n\\nI have no home, Arya thought. I have no pack. And now I don't even have a horse.\\n\\nThe captain was turning away when she said, \\\"What ship is this, my lord?\\\"\\n\\nHe paused long enough to give her a weary smile. \\\"This is the galleas Titan's Daughter, of the Free City of Braavos.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Wait,\\\" Arya said suddenly. \\\"I have something else.\\\" She had stuffed it down inside her smallclothes to keep it safe, so she had to dig deep to find it, while the oarsmen laughed and the captain lingered with obvious impatience. \\\"One more silver will make no difference, child,\\\" he finally said.\\n\\n\\\"It's not silver.\\\" Her fingers closed on it. \\\"It's iron. Here.\\\" She pressed it into his hand, the small black iron coin that Jaqen H'ghar had given her, so worn the man whose head it bore had no features. It's probably worthless, but...\\n\\nThe captain turned it over and blinked at it, then looked at her again. \\\"This... how...?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jaqen said to say the words too. Arya crossed her arms against her chest. \\\"Valar morghulis,\\\" she said, as loud as if she'd known what it meant.\\n\\n\\\"Valar dohaeris,\\\" he replied, touching his brow with two fingers. \\\"Of course you shall have a cabin.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"SAMWELL\\n\\nHe sucks harder than mine.\\\" Gilly stroked the babe's head as she held him to her nipple.\\n\\n\\\"He's hungry,\\\" said the blonde woman Val, the one the black brothers called the wildling princess. \\\"He's lived on goats' milk up to now, and potions from that blind maester.\\\"\\n\\nThe boy did not have a name yet, no more than Gilly's did. That was the wildling way. Not even Mance Rayder's son would get a name till his third year, it would seem, though Sam had heard the brothers calling him'the little prince\\\" and'born-in-battle.\\\"\\n\\nHe watched the child nurse at Gilly's breast, and then he watched Jon watch. Jon is smiling. A sad smile, still, but definitely a smile of sorts. Sam was glad to see it. It is the first time I've seen him smile since I got back.\\n\\nThey had walked from the Nightfort to Deep Lake, and from Deep Lake to Queensgate, following a narrow track from one castle to the next, never out of sight of the Wall. A day and a half from Castle Black, as they trudged along on callused feet, Gilly heard horses behind them, and turned to see a column of black riders coming from the west. \\\"My brothers,\\\" Sam assured her. \\\"No one uses this road but the Night's Watch.\\\" It had turned out to be Ser Denys Mallister from the Shadow Tower, along with the wounded Bowen Marsh and the survivors from the fight at the Bridge of Skulls. When Sam saw Dywen, Giant, and Dolorous Edd Tollett, he broke down and wept.\\n\\nIt was from them that he learned about the battle beneath the Wall. \\\"Stannis landed his knights at Eastwatch, and Cotter Pyke led him along the ranger's roads, to take the wildlings unawares,\\\" Giant told him. \\\"He smashed them. Mance Rayder was taken captive, a thousand of his best slain, including Harma Dogshead. The rest scattered like leaves before a storm, we heard.\\\" The gods are good, Sam thought. If he had not gotten lost as he made his way south from Craster's Keep, he and Gilly might have walked right into the battle... or into Mance Rayder's camp, at the very least. That might have been well enough for Gilly and the boy, but not for him. Sam had heard all the stories about what wildlings did with captured crows. He shuddered.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Nothing that his brothers told him prepared him for what he found at Castle Black, however. The common hall had burned to the ground and the great wooden stair was a mound of broken ice and scorched timbers. Donal Noye was dead, along with Rast, Deaf Dick, Red Alyn, and so many more, yet the castle was more crowded than Sam had ever seen; not with black brothers, but with the king's soldiers, more than a thousand of them. There was a king in the King's Tower for the first time in living memory, and banners flew from the Lance, Hardin's Tower, the Grey Keep, the Shieldhall, and other buildings that had stood empty and abandoned for long years. \\\"The big one, the gold with the black stag, that's the royal standard of House Baratheon,\\\" he told Gilly, who had never seen banners before. \\\"The fox-and-flowers is House Florent. The turtle is Estermont, the swordfish is Bar Emmon, and the crossed trumpets are for Wensington.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They're all bright as flowers.\\\" Gilly pointed. \\\"I like those yellow ones, with the fire. Look, and some of the fighters have the same thing on their blouses.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A fiery heart. I don't know whose sigil that is.\\\"\\n\\nHe found out soon enough. \\\"Queen's men,\\\" Pyp told him-after he let out a whoop, and shouted, \\\"Run and bar the doors, lads, it's Sam the Slayer comeback from the grave,\\\" while Grenn was hugging Sam so hard he thought his ribs might break-\\\"but best you don't go asking where the queen is. Stannis left her at Eastwatch, with their daughter and his fleet. He brought no woman but the redone.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The redone?\\\" said Sam uncertainly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Melisandre of Asshai,\\\" said Grenn. \\\"The king's sorceress. They say she burned a man alive at Dragonstone so Stannis would have favorable winds for his voyage north. She rode beside him in the battle too, and gave him his magic sword. Lightbringer, they call it. Wait till you see it. It glows like it had apiece of sun inside it.\\\" He looked at Sam again and grinned a big helpless stupid grin. \\\"I still can't believe you're here.\\\"\\n\\nJon Snow had smiled to see him too, but it was a tired smile, like the one he wore now. \\\"You made it back after all,\\\" he said. \\\"And brought Gilly out as well. You've done well, Sam.\\\"\\n\\nJon had done more than well himself, to hear Grenn tell it. Yet even capturing the Horn of Winter and a wildling prince had not been enough for Ser Alliser Thorne and his friends, who still named him turncloak. Though Maester Aemon said his wound was healing well, Jon bore other scars, deeper than the ones around his eye. He grieves for his wildling girl, and for his brothers.\\n\\n\\\"It's strange,\\\" he said to Sam. \\\"Craster had no love for Mance, nor Mance for Craster, but now Craster's daughter is feeding Mance's son.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have the milk,\\\" Gilly said, her voice soft and shy. \\\"Mine takes only a little. He's not so greedy as this one.\\\"\\n\\nThe wildling woman Val turned to face them. \\\"I've heard the queen's men saying that the red woman means to give Mance to the fire, as soon as he is strong enough.\\\"\\n\\nJon gave her a weary look. \\\"Mance is a deserter from the Night's Watch. The penalty for that is death. If the Watch had taken him, he would have been hanged by now, but he's the king's captive, and no one knows the king's mind but the red woman.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I want to see him,\\\" Val said. \\\"I want to show him his son. He deserves that much, before you kill him.\\\"\\n\\nSam tried to explain. \\\"No one is permitted to see him but Maester Aemon, my lady.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If it were in my power, Mance could hold his son.\\\" Jon's smile was gone. \\\"I'm sorry, Val.\\\" He turned away. \\\"Sam and I have duties to return to. Well, Sam does, anyway. We'll ask about your seeing Mance. That's all I can promise.\\\"\\n\\nSam lingered long enough to give Gilly's hand a squeeze and promise to return again after supper. Then he hurried after. There were guards outside the door, queen's men with spears. Jon was halfway down the steps, but he waited when he heard Sam puffing after him. \\\"You're more than fond of Gilly, aren't you?\\\"\\n\\nSam reddened. \\\"Gilly's good. She's good and kind.\\\" He was glad that his long nightmare was done, glad to be back with his brothers at Castle Black... but some nights, alone in his cell, he thought of how warm Gilly had been when they'd curled up beneath the furs with the babe between them. \\\"She... she made me braver, Jon. Not brave, but... braver.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You know you cannot keep her,\\\" Jon said gently, \\\"no more than I could stay with Ygritte. You said the words, Sam, the same as I did. The same as all of us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know. Gilly said she'd be a wife tome, but... I told her about the words, and what they meant. I don't know if that made her sad or glad, but I told her.\\\" He swallowed nervously and said, \\\"Jon, could there be honor in a lie, if it were told fora... a good purpose?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It would depend on the lie and the purpose, I suppose.\\\" Jon looked at Sam. \\\"I wouldn't advise it. You're not made to lie, Sam. You blush and squeak and stammer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do,\\\" said Sam, \\\"but I could lie in a letter. I'm better with a quill in hand. I had a... a thought. When things are more settled here, I thought maybe the best thing for Gilly... I thought I might send her to Horn Hill. To my mother and sisters and my... my f-f-father. If Gilly were to say the babe was m-mine...\\\" He was blushing again. \\\"My mother would want him, I know. She would find someplace for Gilly, some kind of service, it wouldn't be as hard as serving Craster. And Lord R-Randyll, he... he would never say so, but he might be pleased to believe I got a bastard on some wildling girl. At least it would prove I was man enough to lie with a woman and father a child. He told me once that I was sure to die a maiden, that no woman would ever... you know... Jon, if I did this, wrote this lie... would that be a good thing? The life the boy would have...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Growing up a bastard in his grandfather's castle?\\\" Jon shrugged. \\\"That depends in great part on your father, and what sort of boy this is. If he takes after you...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He won't. Craster's his real father. You saw him, he was hard as an old tree stump, and Gilly is stronger than she looks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If the boy shows any skill with sword or lance, he should have a place with your father's household guard at the least,\\\" Jon said. \\\"It's not unknown for bastards to be trained as squires and raised to knighthood. But you'd best be sure Gilly can play this game convincingly. From what you've told me of Lord Randyll, I doubt he would take kindly to being deceived.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"More guards were posted on the steps outside the tower. These were king's men, though; Sam had quickly learned the difference. The king's men were as earthy and impious as any other soldiers, but the queen's men were fervid in their devotion to Melisandre of Asshai and her Lord of Light. \\\"Are you going to the practice yard again?\\\" Sam asked as they crossed the yard. \\\"Is it wise to train so hard before your leg's done healing?\\\"\\n\\nJon shrugged. \\\"What else is therefor me to do? Marsh has removed me from duty, for fear that I'm still a turncloak.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's only a few who believe that,\\\" Sam assured him. \\\"Ser Alliser and his friends. Most of the brothers know better. King Stannis knows as well, I'll wager. You brought him the Horn of Winter and captured Mance Rayder's son.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All I did was protect Val and the babe against looters when the wildlings fled, and keep them there until the rangers found us. I never captured anyone. King Stannis keeps his men well in hand, that's plain. He lets them plunder some, but I've only heard of three wildling women being raped, and the men who did it have all been gelded. I suppose I should have been killing the free folk as they ran. Ser Alliser has been putting it about that the only time I bared my sword was to defend our foes. I failed to kill Mance Rayder because I was in league with him, he says.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's only Ser Alliser,\\\" said Sam. \\\"Everyone knows the sort of man he is.\\\" With his noble birth, his knighthood, and his long years in the Watch, Ser Alliser Thorne might have been a strong challenger for the Lord Commander's title, but almost all the men he'd trained during his years as master-at-arms despised him. His name had been offered, of course, but after running a weak sixth on the first day and actually losing votes on the second, Thorne had withdrawn to support Lord Janos Slynt.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What everyone knows is that Ser Alliser is a knight from a noble line, and trueborn, while I'm the bastard who killed Qhorin Halfhand and bedded with a spearwife.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The warg, I've heard them call me. How can I be a warg without a wolf, I ask you?\\\" His mouth twisted. \\\"I don't even dream of Ghost anymore. All my dreams are of the crypts, of the stone kings on their thrones. Sometimes I hear Robb's voice, and my father's, as if they were at a feast. But there's a wall between us, and I know that no place has been set for me.\\\"\\n\\nThe living have no place at the feasts of the dead. It tore the heart from Sam to hold his silence then. Bran's not dead, Jon, he wanted to stay. He's with friends, and they're going north on a giant elk to find a three-eyed crow in the depths of the haunted forest. It sounded so mad that there were times Sam Tarly thought he must have dreamt it all, conjured it whole from fever and fear and hunger... but he would have blurted it out anyway, if he had not given his word.\\n\\nThree times he had sworn to keep the secret; once to Bran himself, once to that strange boy Jojen Reed, and last of all to Coldhands. \\\"The world believes the boy is dead,\\\" his rescuer had said as they parted. \\\"Let his bones lie undisturbed. We want no seekers coming after us. Swear it, Samwell of the Night's Watch. Swear it for the life you owe me.\\\"\\n\\nMiserable, Sam shifted his weight and said, \\\"Lord Janos will never be chosen Lord Commander.\\\" It was the best comfort he had to offer Jon, the only comfort. \\\"That won't happen.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sam, you're a sweet fool. Open your eyes. It's been happening for days.\\\" Jon pushed his hair back out of his eyes and said, \\\"I may know nothing, but I know that. Now pray excuse me, I need to hit someone very hard with a sword.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There was naught that Sam could do but watch him stride off toward the armory and the practice yard. That was where Jon Snow spent most of his waking hours. With Ser Endrew dead and Ser Alliser disinterested, Castle Black had no master-at-arms, so Jon had taken it on himself to work with some of the rawer recruits; Satin, Horse, Hop-Robin with his clubfoot, Arron and Emrick. And when they had duties, he would train alone for hours with sword and shield and spear, or match himself against anyone who cared to take him on.\\n\\nSam, you're a sweet fool, he could hear Jon saying, all the way back to the maester's keep. Open your eyes. It's been happening for days. Could he be right? A man needed the votes of two-thirds of the Sworn Brothers to become the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and after nine days and nine votes no one was even close to that. Lord Janos had been gaining, true, creeping up past first Bowen Marsh and then Othell Yarwyck, but he was still well behind Ser Denys Mallister of the Shadow Tower and Cotter Pyke of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. One of them will be the new Lord Commander, surely, Sam told himself.\\n\\nStannis had posted guards outside the maester's door too. Within, the rooms were hot and crowded with the wounded from the battle; black brothers, king's men, and queen's men, all three. Clydas was shuffling amongst them with flagons of goats\\\" milk and dreamwine, but Maester Aemon had not yet returned from his morning call on Mance Rayder. Sam hung his cloak upon a peg and went to lend a hand. But even as he fetched and poured and changed dressings, Jon's words nagged at him. Sam, you're a sweet fool. Open your eyes. It's been happening for days.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was a good hour before he could excuse himself to feed the ravens. On the way up to the rookery, he stopped to check the tally he had made of last night's count. At the start of the choosing, more than thirty names had been offered, but most had withdrawn once it became clear they could not win. Seven remained as of last night. Ser Denys Mallister had collected two hundred and thirteen tokens, Cotter Pyke one hundred and eighty-seven, Lord Slynt seventy-four, Othell Yarwyck sixty, Bowen Marsh forty-nine, Three-Finger Hobb five, and Dolorous Edd Tollett one. Pyp and his stupid japes. Sam shuffled through the earlier counts. Ser Denys, Cotter Pyke, and Bowen Marsh had all been falling since the third day, Othell Yarwyck since the sixth. Only Lord Janos Slynt was climbing, day after day after day.\\n\\nHe could hear the birds quorking in the rookery, so he put the papers away and climbed the steps to feed them. Three more ravens had come in, he saw with pleasure. \\\"Snow,\\\" they cried at him. \\\"Snow, snow, snow.\\\" He had taught them that. Even with the newcomers, the ravenry seemed dismally empty. Few of the birds that Aemon had sent off had returned as yet. One reached Stannis, though. One found Dragonstone, and a king who still cared. A thousand leagues south, Sam knew, his father had joined House Tarly to the cause of the boy on the Iron Throne, but neither King Joffrey nor little King Tommen had bestirred himself when the Watch cried out for help. What good is a king who will not defend his realm? he thought angrily, remembering the night on the Fist of the First Men and the terrible trek to Craster's Keep through darkness, fear, and falling snow. The queen's men made him uneasy, it was true, but at least they had come.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"That night at supper Sam looked for Jon Snow, but did not see him anywhere in the cavernous stone vault where the brothers now took their meals.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He finally took a place on the bench near his other friends. Pyp was telling Dolorous Edd about the contest they'd had to see which of the straw soldiers could collect the most wildling arrows. \\\"You were leading most of the way, but Watt of Long Lake got three in the last day and passed you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I never win anything,\\\" Dolorous Edd complained. \\\"The gods always smiled on Watt, though. When the wildlings knocked him off the Bridge of Skulls, somehow he landed in a nice deep pool of water. How lucky was that, missing all those rocks?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Was it along fall?\\\" Grenn wanted to know. \\\"Did landing in the pool of water save his life?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" said Dolorous Edd. \\\"He was dead already, from that axe in his head. Still, it was pretty lucky, missing the rocks.\\\"\\n\\nThree-Finger Hobb had promised the brothers roast haunch of mammoth that night, maybe in hopes of cadging a few more votes. If that was his notion, he should have found a younger mammoth, Sam thought, as he pulled a string of gristle out from between his teeth. Sighing, he pushed the food away.\\n\\nThere would be another vote shortly, and the tensions in the air were thicker than the smoke. Cotter Pyke sat by the fire, surrounded by rangers from Eastwatch. Ser Denys Mallister was near the door with a smaller group of Shadow Tower men. Janos Slynt has the best place, Sam realized, halfway between the flames and the drafts. He was alarmed to see Bowen Marsh beside him, wan-faced and haggard, his head still wrapped in linen, but listening to all that Lord Janos had to say. When he pointed that out to his friends, Pyp said, \\\"And look down there, that's Ser Alliser whispering with Othell Yarwyck.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"After the meal Maester Aemon rose to ask if any of the brothers wished to speak before they cast their tokens. Dolorous Edd got up, stone-faced and glum as ever. \\\"I just want to say to whoever is voting for me that I would certainly make an awful Lord Commander. But so would all these others.\\\" He was followed by Bowen Marsh, who stood with one hand on Lord Slynt's shoulder. \\\"Brothers and friends, I am asking that my name be withdrawn from this choosing. My wound still troubles me, and the task is too large for me, I fear... but not for Lord Janos here, who commanded the gold cloaks of King's Landing for many years. Let us all give him our support.\\\"\\n\\nSam heard angry mutters from Cotter Pyke's end of the room, and Ser Denys looked atone of his companions and shook his head. It is too late, the damage is done. He wondered where Jon was, and why he had stayed away.\\n\\nMost of the brothers were unlettered, so by tradition the choosing was done by dropping tokens into a big potbellied iron kettle that Three-Finger Hobb and Owen the Oaf had dragged over from the kitchens. The barrels of tokens were off in a corner behind a heavy drape, so the voters could make their choice unseen. You were allowed to have a friend cast your token if you had duty, so some men took two tokens, three, or four, and Ser Denys and Cotter Pyke voted for the garrisons they had left behind.\\n\\nWhen the hall was finally empty, save for them, Sam and Clydas upended the kettle in front of Maester Aemon. A cascade of seashells, stones, and copper pennies covered the table. Aemon's wrinkled hands sorted with surprising speed, moving the shells here, the stones there, the pennies to one side, the occasional arrowhead, nail, and acorn off to themselves. Sam and Clydas counted the piles, each of them keeping his own tally.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tonight it was Sam's turn to give his results first. \\\"Two hundred and three for Ser Denys Mallister,\\\" he said. \\\"One hundred and sixty-nine for Cotter Pyke. One hundred and thirty-seven for Lord Janos Slynt, seventy-two for Othell Yarwyck, five for Three-Finger Hobb, and two for Dolorous Edd.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I had one hundred and sixty-eight for Pyke,\\\" Clydas said. \\\"We are two votes short by my count, and one by Sam's.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sam's count is correct,\\\" said Maester Aemon. \\\"Jon Snow did not cast a token. It makes no matter. No one is close.\\\"\\n\\nSam was more relieved than disappointed. Even with Bowen Marsh's support, Lord Janos was still only third. \\\"Who are these five who keep voting for Three-Finger Hobb?\\\" he wondered.\\n\\n\\\"Brothers who want him out of the kitchens?\\\" said Clydas.\\n\\n\\\"Ser Denys is down ten votes since yesterday,\\\" Sam pointed out. \\\"And Cotter Pyke is down almost twenty. That's not good.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not good for their hopes of becoming Lord Commander, certainly,\\\" said Maester Aemon. \\\"Yet it maybe good for the Night's Watch, in the end. That is not for us to say. Ten days is not unduly long. There was once a choosing that lasted near two years, some seven hundred votes. The brothers will come to a decision in their own time.\\\"\\n\\nYes, Sam thought, but what decision?\\n\\nLater, over cups of watered wine in the privacy of Pyp's cell, Sam's tongue loosened and he found himself thinking aloud. \\\"Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister have been losing ground, but between them they still have almost two-thirds,\\\" he told Pyp and Grenn. \\\"Either one would be fine as Lord Commander. Someone needs to convince one of them to withdraw and support the other.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Someone?\\\" said Grenn, doubtfully. \\\"What someone?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Grenn is so dumb he thinks someone might be him,\\\" said Pyp. \\\"Maybe when someone is done with Pyke and Mallister, he should convince King Stannis to marry Queen Cersei too.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"King Stannis is married,\\\" Grenn objected.\\n\\n\\\"What am I going to do with him, Sam?\\\" sighed Pyp.\\n\\n\\\"Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys don't like each other much,\\\" Grenn argued stubbornly. \\\"They fight about everything.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, but only because they have different ideas about what's best for the Watch,\\\" said Sam. \\\"If we explained-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We?\\\" said Pyp. \\\"How did someone change to we? I'm the mummer's monkey, remember? And Grenn is, well, Grenn.\\\" He smiled at Sam, and wiggled his ears. \\\"You, now... you're a lord's son, and the maester's steward...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And Sam the Slayer,\\\" said Grenn. \\\"You slew an Other.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It was the dragonglass that killed it,\\\" Sam told him for the hundredth time.\\n\\n\\\"A lord's son, the maester's steward, and Sam the Slayer,\\\" Pyp mused. \\\"You could talk to them, might be...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I could,\\\" said Sam, sounding as gloomy as Dolorous Edd, \\\"if I wasn't too craven to face them.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"JON\\n\\nJon prowled around Satin in a slow circle, sword in hand, forcing him to turn. \\\"Get your shield up,\\\" he said.\\n\\nIt's too heavy,\\\" the Oldtown boy complained.\\n\\n\\\"It's as heavy as it needs to be to stop a sword,\\\" Jon said. \\\"Now get it up.\\\" He stepped forward, slashing. Satin jerked the shield up in time to catch the sword on its rim, and swung his own blade at Jon's ribs. \\\"Good,\\\" Jon said, when he felt the impact on his own shield. \\\"That was good. But you need to put your body into it. Get your weight behind the steel and you'll do more damage than with arm strength alone. Come, try it again, drive at me, but keep the shield up or I'll ring your head like a bell...\\\"\\n\\nInstead Satin took a step backward and raised his visor. \\\"Jon,\\\" he said, in an anxious voice.\\n\\nWhen he turned, she was standing behind him, with half a dozen queen's men around her. Small wonder the yard grew so quiet. He had glimpsed Melisandre at her nightfires, and coming and going about the castle, but never so close. She's beautiful, he thought... but there was something more than a little unsettling about red eyes. \\\"My lady.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The king would speak with you, Jon Snow.\\\"\\n\\nJon thrust the practice sword into the earth. \\\"Might I be allowed to change? I am in no fit state to stand before a king.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We shall await you atop the Wall,\\\" said Melisandre. We, Jon heard, not he. It's as they say. This is his true queen, not the one he left at Eastwatch.\\n\\nHe hung his mail and plate inside the armory, returned to his own cell, discarded his sweat-stained clothes, and donned afresh set of blacks. It would be cold and windy in the cage, he knew, and colder and windier still on top of the ice, so he chose a heavy hooded cloak. Last of all he collected Longclaw, and slung the bastard sword across his back.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Melisandre was waiting for him at the base of the Wall. She had sent her queen's men away. \\\"What does His Grace want of me?\\\" Jon asked her as they entered the cage.\\n\\n\\\"All you have to give, Jon Snow. He is a king.\\\"\\n\\nHe shut the door and pulled the bell cord. The winch began to turn. They rose. The day was bright and the Wall was weeping, long fingers of water trickling down its face and glinting in the sun. In the close confines of the iron cage, he was acutely aware of the red woman's presence. She even smells red. The scent reminded him of Mikken's forge, of the way iron smelled when red-hot; the scent was smoke and blood. Kissed by fire, he thought, remembering Ygritte. The wind got in amongst Melisandre's long red robes and sent them flapping against Jon's legs as he stood beside her. \\\"You are not cold, my lady?\\\" he asked her.\\n\\nShe laughed. \\\"Never.\\\" The ruby at her throat seemed to pulse, in time with the beating of her heart. \\\"The Lord's fire lives within me, Jon Snow. Feel.\\\" She put her hand on his cheek, and held it there while he felt how warm she was. \\\"That is how life should feel,\\\" she told him. \\\"Only death is cold.\\\"\\n\\nThey found Stannis Baratheon standing alone at the edge of the Wall, brooding over the field where he had won his battle, and the great green forest beyond. He was dressed in the same black breeches, tunic, and boots that a brother of the Night's Watch might wear. Only his cloak set him apart; a heavy golden cloak trimmed in black fur, and pinned with a brooch in the shape of a flaming heart. \\\"I have brought you the Bastard of Winterfell, Your Grace,\\\" said Melisandre.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Stannis turned to study him. Beneath his heavy brow were eyes like bottomless blue pools. His hollow cheeks and strong jaw were covered with a short-cropped blue-black beard that did little to conceal the gauntness of his face, and his teeth were clenched. His neck and shoulders were clenched as well, and his right hand. Jon found himself remembering something Donal Noye once said about the Baratheon brothers. Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends. Uneasily, he knelt, wondering why this brittle king had need of him.\\n\\n\\\"Rise. I have heard much and more of you, Lord Snow.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am no lord, sire.\\\" Jon rose. \\\"I know what you have heard. That I am a turncloak, and craven. That I slew my brother Qhorin Halfhand so the wildlings would spare my life. That I rode with Mance Rayder, and took a wildling wife.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye. All that, and more. You area warg too, they say, a skinchanger who walks at night as a wolf.\\\" King Stannis had a hard smile. \\\"How much of it is true?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I had a direwolf, Ghost. I left him when I climbed the Wall near Greyguard, and have not seen him since. Qhorin Halfhand commanded me to join the wildlings. He knew they would make me kill him to prove myself, and told me to do whatever they asked of me. The woman was named Ygritte. I broke my vows with her, but I swear to you on my father's name that I never turned my cloak.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I believe you,\\\" the king said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"That startled him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\nStannis snorted. \\\"I know Janos Slynt. And I knew Ned Stark as well. Your father was no friend of mine, but only a fool would doubt his honor or his honesty. You have his look.\\\" A big man, Stannis Baratheon towered over Jon, but he was so gaunt that he looked ten years older than he was. \\\"I know more than you might think, Jon Snow. I know it was you who found the dragonglass dagger that Randyll Tarly's son used to slay the Other.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ghost found it. The blade was wrapped in a ranger's cloak and buried beneath the Fist of the First Men. There were other blades as well... spearheads, arrowheads, all dragonglass.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know you held the gate here,\\\" King Stannis said. \\\"If not, I would have come too late.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Donal Noye held the gate. He died below in the tunnel, fighting the king of the giants.\\\"\\n\\nStannis grimaced. \\\"Noye made my first sword for me, and Robert's warhammer as well. Had the god seen fit to spare him, he would have made a better Lord Commander for your order than any of these fools who are squabbling over it now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister are no fools, sire,\\\" Jon said. \\\"They're good men, and capable. Othell Yarwyck as well, in his own way. Lord Mormont trusted each of them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your Lord Mormont trusted too easily. Else he would not have died as he did. But we were speaking of you. I have not forgotten that it was you who brought us this magic horn, and captured Mance Rayder's wife and son.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2290,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Collaborate on the narrative and advance it.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 78"},{"from":"human","value":"That startled him."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Why?\"\n\nStannis snorted. \"I know Janos Slynt. And I knew Ned Stark as well. Your father was no friend of mine, but only a fool would doubt his honor or his honesty. You have his look.\" A big man, Stannis Baratheon towered over Jon, but he was so gaunt that he looked ten years older than he was. \"I know more than you might think, Jon Snow. I know it was you who found the dragonglass dagger that Randyll Tarly's son used to slay the Other.\"\n\n\"Ghost found it. The blade was wrapped in a ranger's cloak and buried beneath the Fist of the First Men. There were other blades as well... spearheads, arrowheads, all dragonglass.\"\n\n\"I know you held the gate here,\" King Stannis said. \"If not, I would have come too late.\"\n\n\"Donal Noye held the gate. He died below in the tunnel, fighting the king of the giants.\"\n\nStannis grimaced. \"Noye made my first sword for me, and Robert's warhammer as well. Had the god seen fit to spare him, he would have made a better Lord Commander for your order than any of these fools who are squabbling over it now.\"\n\n\"Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister are no fools, sire,\" Jon said. \"They're good men, and capable. Othell Yarwyck as well, in his own way. Lord Mormont trusted each of them.\"\n\n\"Your Lord Mormont trusted too easily. Else he would not have died as he did. But we were speaking of you. I have not forgotten that it was you who brought us this magic horn, and captured Mance Rayder's wife and son.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Dalla died.\" Jon was saddened by that still. \"Val is her sister. She and the babe did not require much capturing, Your Grace. You had put the wildlings to flight, and the skinchanger Mance had left to guard his queen went mad when the eagle burned.\" Jon looked at Melisandre. \"Some say that was your doing.\"\n\nShe smiled, her long copper hair tumbling across her face. \"The Lord of Light has fiery talons, Jon Snow.\"\n\nJon nodded, and turned back to the king. \"Your Grace, you spoke of Val. She has asked to see Mance Rayder, to bring his son to him. It would be a... a kindness.\"\n\n\"The man is a deserter from your order. Your brothers are all insisting on his death. Why should I do him a kindness?\"\n\nJon had no answer for that. \"If not for him, for Val. For her sister's sake, the child's mother.\"\n\n\"You are fond of this Val?\"\n\n\"I scarcely know her.\"\n\n\"They tell me she is comely.\"\n\n\"Very,\" Jon admitted.\n\n\"Beauty can be treacherous. My brother learned that lesson from Cersei Lannister. She murdered him, do not doubt it. Your father and Jon Arryn as well.\" He scowled. \"You rode with these wildlings. Is there any honor in them, do you think?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Jon said, \"but their own sort of honor, sire.\"\n\n\"In Mance Rayder?\"\n\n\"Yes. I think so.\"\n\n\"In the Lord of Bones?\"\n\nJon hesitated. \"Rattleshirt, we called him. Treacherous and blood-thirsty. If there's honor in him, he hides it down beneath his suit of bones.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And this other man, this Tormund of the many names who eluded us after the battle? Answer me truly.\"\n\n\"Tormund Giantsbane seemed tome the sort of man who would make a good friend and a bad enemy, Your Grace.\"\n\nStannis gave a curt nod. \"Your father was a man of honor. He was no friend tome, but I saw his worth. Your brother was a rebel and a traitor who meant to steal half my kingdom, but no man can question his courage. What of you?\"\n\nDoes he want me to say I love him? Jon's voice was stiff and formal as he said, \"I am a man of the Night's Watch.\"\n\n\"Words. Words are wind. Why do you think I abandoned Dragonstone and sailed to the Wall, Lord Snow?\"\n\n\"I am no lord, sire. You came because we sent for you, I hope. Though I could not say why you took so long about it.\"\n\nSurprisingly, Stannis smiled at that. \"You're bold enough to be a Stark. Yes, I should have come sooner. If not for my Hand, I might not have come at all. Lord Seaworth is a man of humble birth, but he reminded me of my duty, when all I could think of was my rights. I had the cart before the horse, Davos said. I was trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, when I should have been trying to save the kingdom to win the throne.\" Stannis pointed north. \"There is where I'll find the foe that I was born to fight.\"\n\n\"His name may not bespoken,\" Melisandre added softly. \"He is the God of Night and Terror, Jon Snow, and these shapes in the snow are his creatures.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"They tell me that you slew one of these walking corpses to save Lord Mormont's life,\" Stannis said."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It maybe that this is your war as well, Lord Snow. If you will give me your help.\"\n\n\"My sword is pledged to the Night's Watch, Your Grace,\" Jon Snow answered carefully.\n\nThat did not please the king. Stannis ground his teeth and said, \"I need more than a sword from you.\"\n\nJon was lost. \"My lord?\"\n\n\"I need the north.\"\n\nThe north. \"I... my brother Robb was King in the North...\"\n\n\"Your brother was the rightful Lord of Winterfell. If he had stayed home and done his duty, instead of crowning himself and riding off to conquer the riverlands, he might be alive today. Be that as it may. You are not Robb, no more than I am Robert.\"\n\nThe harsh words had blown away whatever sympathy Jon might have had for Stannis. \"I loved my brother,\" he said.\n\n\"And I mine. Yet they were what they were, and so are we. I am the only true king in Westeros, north or south. And you are Ned Stark's bastard.\" Stannis studied him with those dark blue eyes. \"Tywin Lannister has named Roose Bolton his Warden of the North, to reward him for betraying your brother. The ironmen are fighting amongst themselves since Balon Greyjoy's death, yet they still hold Moat Cailin, Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's Square, and most of the Stony Shore. Your father's lands are bleeding, and I have neither the strength nor the time to stanch the wounds. What is needed is a Lord of Winterfell. A loyal Lord of Winterfell.\"\n\nHe is looking at me, Jon thought, stunned. \"Winterfell is no more. Theon Greyjoy put it to the torch.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Granite does not burn easily,\" Stannis said. \"The castle can be rebuilt, in time. It's not the walls that make a lord, it's the man. Your northmen do not know me, have no reason to love me, yet I will need their strength in the battles yet to come. I need a son of Eddard Stark to win them to my banner.\"\n\nHe would make me Lord of Winterfell. The wind was gusting, and Jon felt so light-headed he was half afraid it would blow him off the Wall. \"Your Grace,\" he said, \"you forget. I am a Snow, not a Stark.\"\n\n\"It's you who are forgetting,\" King Stannis replied.\n\nMelisandre put a warm hand on Jon's arm. \"A king can remove the taint of bastardy with a stroke, Lord Snow.\"\n\nLord Snow. Ser Alliser Thorne had named him that, to mock his bastard birth. Many of his brothers had taken to using it as well, some with affection, others to wound. But suddenly it had a different sound to it in Jon's ears. It sounded... real. \"Yes,\" he said, hesitantly, \"kings have legitimized bastards before, but... I am still a brother of the Night's Watch. I knelt before a heart tree and swore to hold no lands and father no children.\"\n\n\"Jon.\" Melisandre was so close he could feel the warmth of her breath. \"R'hllor is the only true god. Avow sworn to a tree has no more power than one sworn to your shoes. Open your heart and let the light of the Lord come in. Burn these weirwoods, and accept Winterfell as a gift of the Lord of Light.\"\n\nWhen Jon had been very young, too young to understand what it meant to be a bastard, he used to dream that one day Winterfell might be his. Later, when he was older, he had been ashamed of those dreams. Winterfell would go to Robb and then his sons, or to Bran or Rickon should Robb die childless. And after them came Sansa and Arya. Even to dream otherwise seemed disloyal, as if he were betraying them in his heart, wishing for their deaths. I never wanted this, he thought as he stood before the blue-eyed king and the red woman. I loved Robb, loved all of them... I never wanted any harm to come to any of them, but it did. And now there's only me. All he had to do was say the word, and he would be Jon Stark, and nevermore a Snow. All he had to do was pledge this king his fealty, and Winterfell was his. All he had to do..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"... was forswear his vows again.\n\nAnd this time it would not be a ruse. To claim his father's castle, he must turn against his father's gods.\n\nKing Stannis gazed off north again, his gold cloak streaming from his shoulders. \"It maybe that I am mistaken in you, Jon Snow. We both know the things that are said of bastards. You may lack your father's honor, or your brother's skill in arms. But you are the weapon the Lord has given me. I have found you here, as you found the cache of dragonglass beneath the Fist, and I mean to make use of you. Even Azor Ahai did not win his war alone. I killed a thousand wildlings, took another thousand captive, and scattered the rest, but we both know they will return. Melisandre has seen that in her fires. This Tormund Thunderfist is likely re-forming them even now, and planning some new assault. And the more we bleed each other, the weaker we shall all be when the real enemy falls upon us.\"\n\nJon had come to that same realization. \"As you say, Your Grace.\" He wondered where this king, was going.\n\n\"Whilst your brothers have been struggling to decide who shall lead them, I have been speaking with this Mance Rayder.\" He ground his teeth. \"A stubborn man, that one, and prideful. He will leave me no choice but to give him to the flames. But we took other captives as well, other leaders. The one who calls himself the Lord of Bones, some of their clan chiefs, the new Magnar of Thenn. Your brothers will not like it, no more than your father's lords, but I mean to allow the wildlings through the Wall... those who will swear me their fealty, pledge to keep the king's peace and the king's laws, and take the Lord of Light as their god. Even the giants, if those great knees of theirs can bend. I will settle them on the Gift, once I have wrested it away from your new Lord Commander. When the cold winds rise, we shall live or die together. It is time we made alliance against our common foe.\" He looked at Jon. \"Would you agree?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"My father dreamed of resettling the Gift,\" Jon admitted. \"He and my uncle Benjen used to talk of it.\" He never thought of settling it with wildlings, though... but he never rode with wildlings, either. He did not fool himself; the free folk would make for unruly subjects and dangerous neighbors. Yet when he weighed Ygritte's red hair against the cold blue eyes of the wights, the choice was easy. \"I agree.\"\n\n\"Good,\" King Stannis said, \"for the surest way to seal anew alliance is with a marriage. I mean towed my Lord of Winterfell to this wildling princess.\"\n\nPerhaps Jon had ridden with the free folk too long; he could not help but laugh. \"Your Grace,\" he said, \"captive or no, if you think you can just give Val tome, I fear you have a deal to learn about wildling women. Whoever weds her had best be prepared to climb in her tower window and carry her off at swordpoint...\"\n\n\"Whoever?\" Stannis gave him a measuring look. \"Does this mean you will not wed the girl? I warn you, she is part of the price you must pay, if you want your father's name and your father's castle. This match is necessary, to help assure the loyalty of our new subjects. Are you refusing me, Jon Snow?\"\n\n\"No,\" Jon said, too quickly. It was Winterfell the king was speaking of, and Winterfell was not to be lightly refused. \"I mean... this has all come very suddenly, Your Grace. Might I beg you for sometime to consider?\"\n\n\"As you wish. But consider quickly. I am not a patient man, as your black brothers are about to discover.\" Stannis put a thin, fleshless hand on Jon's shoulder. \"Say nothing of what we've discussed here today. To anyone. But when you return, you need only bend your knee, lay your sword at my feet, and pledge yourself to my service, and you shall rise again as Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"TYRION\n\nWhen he heard noises through the thick wooden door of his cell, Tyrion Lannister prepared to die.\n\nPast time, he thought. Come on, come on, make an end to it. He pushed himself to his feet. His legs were asleep from being folded under him. He bent down and rubbed the knives from them. I will not go stumbling and waddling to the headsman's block.\n\nHe wondered whether they would kill him down herein the dark or drag him through the city so Ser Ilyn Payne could lop his head off. After his mummer's farce of atrial, his sweet sister and loving father might prefer to dispose of him quietly, rather than risk a public execution. I could tell the mob a few choice things, if they let me speak. But would they be that foolish?\n\nAs the keys rattled and the door to his cell pushed inward, creaking, Tyrion pressed back against the dampness of the wall, wishing fora weapon. I can still bite and kick. I'll die with the taste of blood in my mouth, that's something. He wished he'd been able to think of some rousing last words. \"Bugger you all\" was not like to earn him much of a place in the histories.\n\nTorchlight fell across his face. He shielded his eyes with a hand. \"Come on, are you frightened of a dwarf? Do it, you son of a poxy whore.\" His voice had grown hoarse from disuse.\n\n\"Is that anyway to speak about our lady mother?\" The man moved forward, a torch in his left hand. \"This is even more ghastly than my cell at Riverrun, though not quite so dank.\"\n\nFora moment Tyrion could not breathe. \"You?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Well, most of me.\" Jaime was gaunt, his hair hacked short. \"I left a hand at Harrenhal. Bringing the Brave Companions across the narrow sea was not one of Father's better notions.\" He lifted his arm, and Tyrion saw the stump.\n\nA bark of hysterical laughter burst from his lips. \"Oh, gods,\" he said. \"Jaime, I am so sorry, but... gods be good, look at the two of us. Handless and Noseless, the Lannister boys.\"\n\n\"There were days when my hand smelled so bad I wished I was noseless.\" Jaime lowered the torch, so the light bathed his brother's face. \"An impressive scar.\"\n\nTyrion turned away from the glare. \"They made me fight a battle without my big brother to protect me.\"\n\n\"I heard tell you almost burned the city down.\"\n\n\"A filthy lie. I only burned the river.\" Abruptly, Tyrion remembered where he was, and why. \"Are you hereto kill me?\"\n\n\"Now that's ungrateful. Perhaps I should leave you hereto rot if you're going to be so discourteous.\"\n\n\"Rotting is not the fate Cersei has in mind for me.\"\n\n\"Well no, if truth be told. You're to be beheaded on the morrow, out on the old tourney grounds.\"\n\nTyrion laughed again. \"Will there be food? You'll have to help me with my last words, my wits have been running about like a rat in a root cellar.\"\n\n\"You won't need last words. I'm rescuing you.\" Jaime's voice was strangely solemn.\n\n\"Who said I required rescue?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You know, I'd almost forgotten what an annoying little man you are. Now that you've reminded me, I do believe I'll let Cersei cut your head off after all.\"\n\n\"Oh no you won't.\" He waddled out of the cell. \"Is it day or night up above? I've lost all sense of time.\"\n\n\"Three hours past midnight. The city sleeps.\" Jaime slid the torch back into its sconce, on the wall between the cells.\n\nThe corridor was so poorly lit that Tyrion almost stumbled on the turnkey, sprawled across the cold stone floor. He prodded him with a toe. \"Is he dead?\"\n\n\"Asleep. The other three as well. The eunuch dosed their wine with sweetsleep, but not enough to kill them. Or so he swears. He is waiting back at the stair, dressed up in a septon's robe. You're going down into the sewers, and from thereto the river. A galley is waiting in the bay. Varys has agents in the Free Cities who will see that you do not lack for funds... but try not to be conspicuous. Cersei will send men after you, I have no doubt. You might do well to take another name.\"\n\n\"Another name? Oh, certainly. And when the Faceless Men come to kill me, I'll say,\"No, you have the wrong man, I'm a different dwarf with a hideous facial scar.\"\" Both Lannisters laughed at the absurdity of it all. Then Jaime went to one knee and kissed him quickly once on each cheek, his lips brushing against the puckered ribbon of scar tissue.\n\n\"Thank you, Brother,\" Tyrion said. \"For my life.\"\n\n\"It was... a debt I owed you.\" Jaime's voice was strange."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"A debt?\" He cocked his head. \"I do not understand.\"\n\n\"Good. Some doors are best left closed.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear,\" said Tyrion. \"Is there something grim and ugly behind it? Could it be that someone said something cruel about me once? I'll try not to weep. Tell me.\"\n\n\"Tyrion...\"\n\nJaime is afraid. \"Tell me,\" Tyrion said again.\n\nHis brother looked away. \"Tysha,\" he said softly.\n\n\"Tysha?\" His stomach tightened. \"What of her?\"\n\n\"She was no whore. I never bought her for you. That was a lie that Father commanded me to tell. Tysha was... she was what she seemed to be. A crofter's daughter, chance met on the road.\"\n\nTyrion could hear the faint sound of his own breath whistling hollowly through the scar of his nose. Jaime could not meet his eyes. Tysha. He tried to remember what she had looked like. A girl, she was only a girl, no older than Sansa. \"My wife,\" he croaked. \"Shewed me.\"\n\n\"For your gold, Father said. She was lowborn, you were a Lannister of Casterly Rock. All she wanted was the gold, which made her no different from a whore, so... so it would not be a lie, not truly, and... he said that you required a sharp lesson. That you would learn from it, and thank me later...\"\n\n\"Thank you?\" Tyrion's voice was choked. \"He gave her to his guards. A barracks full of guards. He made me... watch.\" Aye, and more than watch. I took her too... my wife..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I never knew he would do that. You must believe me.\"\n\n\"Oh, must I?\" Tyrion snarled. \"Why should I believe you about anything, ever? She was my wife!\"\n\n\"Tyrion-\"\n\nHe hit him. It was a slap, backhanded, but he put all his strength into it, all his fear, all his rage, all his pain. Jaime was squatting, unbalanced. The blow sent him tumbling backward to the floor. \"I... I suppose I earned that.\"\n\n\"Oh, you've earned more than that, Jaime. You and my sweet sister and our loving father, yes, I can't begin to tell you what you've earned. But you'll have it, that I swear to you. A Lannister always pays his debts.\" Tyrion waddled away, almost stumbling over the turnkey again in his haste. Before he had gone a dozen yards, he bumped up against an iron gate that closed the passage. Oh, gods. It was all he could do not to scream.\n\nJaime came up behind him. \"I have the gaoler's keys.\"\n\n\"Then use them.\" Tyrion stepped aside.\n\nJaime unlocked the gate, pushed it open, and stepped through. He looked back over his shoulder. \"Are you coming?\"\n\n\"Not with you.\" Tyrion stepped through. \"Give me the keys and go. I will find Varys on my own.\" He cocked his head and stared up at his brother with his mismatched eyes. \"Jaime, can you fight left-handed?\"\n\n\"Rather less well than you,\" Jaime said bitterly.\n\n\"Good. Then we will be well matched if we should ever meet again. The cripple and the dwarf.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jaime handed him the ring of keys. \"I gave you the truth. You owe me the same. Did you do it? Did you kill him?\"\n\nThe question was another knife, twisting in his guts. \"Are you sure you want to know?\" asked Tyrion. \"Joffrey would have been a worse king than Aerys ever was. He stole his father's dagger and gave it to a footpad to slit the throat of Brandon Stark, did you know that?\"\n\n\"I... I thought he might have.\"\n\n\"Well, a son takes after his father. Joff would have killed meas well, once he came into his power. For the crime of being short and ugly, of which I am so conspicuously guilty.\"\n\n\"You have not answered my question.\"\n\n\"You poor stupid blind crippled fool. Must Ispell every little thing out for you? Very well. Cersei is a lying whore, she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know. And I am the monster they all say I am. Yes, I killed your vile son.\" He made himself grin. It must have been a hideous sight to see, therein the torchlit gloom.\n\nJaime turned without a word and walked away.\n\nTyrion watched him go, striding on his long strong legs, and part of him wanted to call out, to tell him that it wasn't true, to beg for his forgiveness. But then he thought of Tysha, and he held his silence. He listened to the receding footsteps until he could hear them no longer, then waddled off to look for Varys.\n\nThe eunuch was lurking in the dark of a twisting turnpike stair, garbed in a moth-eaten brown robe with a hood that hid the paleness of his face. \"You were so long, I feared that something had gone amiss,\" he said when he saw Tyrion."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Oh, no,\" Tyrion assured him, in poisonous tones. \"What could possibly have gone amiss?\" He twisted his head back to stare up. \"I sent for you during my trial.\"\n\n\"I could not come. The queen had me watched, night and day. I dared not help you.\"\n\n\"You're helping me now.\"\n\n\"Am I? Ah.\" Varys giggled. It seemed strangely out of place in this place of cold stone and echoing darkness. \"Your brother can be most persuasive.\"\n\n\"Varys, you areas cold and slimy as a slug, has anyone ever told you? You did your best to kill me. Perhaps I ought to return the favor.\"\n\nThe eunuch sighed. \"The faithful dog is kicked, and no matter how the spider weaves, he is never loved. But if you slay me here, I fear for you, my lord. You may never find your way back to daylight.\" His eyes glittered in the shifting torchlight, dark and wet. \"These tunnels are full of traps for the unwary.\"\n\nTyrion snorted. \"Unwary? I'm the wariest man whoever lived, you helped see to that.\" He rubbed at his nose. \"So tell me, wizard, where is my innocent maiden wife?\"\n\n\"I have found no trace of Lady Sansa in King's Landing, sad to say. Nor of Ser Dontos Hollard, who by rights should have turned up somewhere drunk by now. They were seen together on the serpentine steps the night she vanished. After that, nothing. There was much confusion that night. My little birds are silent.\" Varys gave a gentle tug at the dwarf's sleeve and pulled him into the stair. \"My lord, we must away. Your path is down.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"That's no lie, at least. Tyrion waddled along in the eunuch's wake, his heels scraping against the rough stone as they descended. It was very cold within the stairwell, a damp bone-chilling cold that set him to shivering at once. \"What part of the dungeons are these?\" he asked.\n\n\"Maegor the Cruel decreed four levels of dungeons for his castle,\" Varys replied. \"On the upper level, there are large cells where common criminals maybe confined together. They have narrow windows set high in the walls. The second level has the smaller cells where highborn captives are held. They have no windows, but torches in the halls cast light through the bars. On the third level the cells are smaller and the doors are wood. The black cells, men call them. That was where you were kept, and Eddard Stark before you. But there is a level lower still. Once a man is taken down to the fourth level, he never sees the sun again, nor hears a human voice, nor breathes a breath free of agonizing pain. Maegor had the cells on the fourth level built for torment.\" They had reached the bottom of the steps. An unlighted door opened before them. \"This is the fourth level. Give me your hand, my lord. It is safer to walk in darkness here. There are things you would not wish to see.\"\n\nTyrion hung back a moment. Varys had already betrayed him once. Who knew what game the eunuch was playing? And what better place to murder a man than down in the darkness, in a place that no one knew existed? His body might never be found.\n\nOn the other hand, what choice did he have? Togo backup the steps and walkout the main gate? No, that would not serve."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jaime would not be afraid, he thought, before he remembered what Jaime had done to him. He took the eunuch by the hand and let himself be led through the black, following the soft scrape of leather on stone. Varys walked quickly, from time to time whispering, \"Careful, there are three steps ahead,\" or, \"The tunnel slopes downward here, my lord.\" I arrived here a King's Hand, riding through the gates at the head of my own sworn men, Tyrion reflected, and I leave like a rat scuttling through the dark, holding hands with a spider.\n\nAlight appeared ahead of them, too dim to be daylight, and grew as they hurried toward it. After awhile he could see it was an arched doorway, closed off by another iron gate. Varys produced a key. They stepped through into a small round chamber. Five other doors opened off the room, each barred in iron. There was an opening in the ceiling as well, and a series of rungs set in the wall below, leading upward. An ornate brazier stood to one side, fashioned in the shape of a dragon's head. The coals in the beast's yawning mouth had burnt down to embers, but they still glowed with a sullen orange light. Dim as it was, the light was welcome after the blackness of the tunnel.\n\nThe juncture was otherwise empty, but on the floor was a mosaic of a three-headed dragon wrought in red and black tiles. Something niggled at Tyrion fora moment. Then it came to him. This is the place Shae told me of, when Varys first led her to my bed. \"We are below the Tower of the Hand.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Frozen hinges screamed in protest as Varys pulled open along-closed door. Flakes of rust drifted to the floor. \"This will take us out to the river.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tyrion walked slowly to the ladder, ran his hand across the lowest rung. \"This will take me up to my bedchamber.\"\n\n\"Your lord father's bedchamber now.\"\n\nHe looked up the shaft. \"How far must I climb?\"\n\n\"My lord, you are too weak for such follies, and there is besides no time. We must go.\"\n\n\"I have business above. How far?\"\n\n\"Two hundred and thirty rungs, but whatever you intend-\"\n\n\"Two hundred and thirty rungs, and then?\"\n\n\"The tunnel to the left, but hear me-\"\n\n\"How far along to the bedchamber?\" Tyrion lifted afoot to the lowest rung of the ladder.\n\n\"No more than sixty feet. Keep one hand on the wall as you go. You will feel the doors. The bedchamber is the third.\" He sighed. \"This is folly, my lord. Your brother has given you your life back. Would you cast it away, and mine with it?\"\n\n\"Varys, the only thing I valueless than my life just now is yours. Wait for me here.\" He turned his back on the eunuch and began to climb, counting silently as he went.\n\nRung by rung, he ascended into darkness. At first he could seethe dim outline of each rung as he grasped it, and the rough grey texture of the stone behind, but as he climbed the black grew thicker. Thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen. By thirty, his arms trembled with the strain of pulling. He paused a moment to catch his breath and glanced down. A circle of faint light shone far below, half obscured by his own feet. Tyrion resumed his ascent. Thirty-nine forty forty-one. By fifty, his legs burned. The ladder was endless, numbing. Sixty-eight sixty-nine seventy. By eighty, his back was a dull agony. Yet still he climbed. He could not have said why. One thirteen one fourteen one fifteen."},{"from":"human","value":"At two hundred and thirty, the shaft was black as pitch, but he could feel the warm air flowing from the tunnel to his left, like the breath of some great beast."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He poked about awkwardly with afoot and edged off the ladder. The tunnel was even more cramped than the shaft. Any man of normal size would have had to crawl on hands and knees, but Tyrion was short enough to walk upright. At last, a place made for dwarfs. His boots scuffed softly against the stone. He walked slowly, counting steps, feeling for gaps in the walls. Soon he began to hear voices, muffled and indistinct at first, then clearer. He listened more closely. Two of his father's guardsmen were joking about the Imp's whore, saying how sweet it would be to fuck her, and how bad she must want areal cock in place of the dwarf's stunted little thing. \"Most like it's got a crook in it,\" said Lum. That led him into a discussion of how Tyrion would die on the morrow. \"He'll weep like a woman and beg for mercy, you'll see,\" Lum insisted. Lester figured he'd face the axe brave as a lion, being a Lannister, and he was willing to bet his new boots on it. \"Ah, shit in your boots,\" said Lum, \"you know they'd never fit these feet o'mine. Tell you what, if I win you can scour my bloody mail fora fortnight.\"\n\nFor the space of a few feet, Tyrion could hear every word of their haggling, but when he moved on, the voices faded quickly. Small wonder Varys did not want me to climb the bloody ladder, Tyrion thought, smiling in the dark. Little birds indeed.\n\nHe came to the third door and fumbled about fora longtime before his fingers brushed a small iron hook set between two stones. When he pulled down on it, there was a soft rumble that sounded loud as an avalanche in the stillness, and a square of dull orange light opened afoot to his left."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The hearth! He almost laughed. The fireplace was full of hot ash, and a black log with a hot orange heart burning within. He edged past gingerly, taking quicksteps so as not to burn his boots, the warm cinders crunching softly under his heels. When he found himself in what had once been his bedchamber, he stood along moment, breathing the silence. Had his father heard? Would he reach for his sword, raise the hue and cry?\n\n\"M'lord?\" a woman's voice called.\n\nThat might have hurt me once, when I still felt pain. The first step was the hardest. When he reached the bed Tyrion pulled the draperies aside and there she was, turning toward him with a sleepy smile on her lips. It died when she saw him. She pulled the blankets up to her chin, as if that would protect her.\n\n\"Were you expecting someone taller, sweetling?\"\n\nBig wet tears filled her eyes. \"I never meant those things I said, the queen made me. Please. Your father frightens me so.\" She sat up, letting the blanket slide down to her lap. Beneath it she was naked, but for the chain about her throat. A chain of linked golden hands, each holding the next.\n\n\"My lady Shae,\" Tyrion said softly. \"All the time I satin the black cell waiting to die, I kept remembering how beautiful you were. In silk or roughspun or nothing at all...\"\n\n\"M'lord will be back soon. You should go, or... did you come to take me away?\"\n\n\"Did you ever like it?\" He cupped her cheek, remembering all the times he had done this before. All the times he'd slid his hands around her waist, squeezed her small firm breasts, stroked her short dark hair, touched her lips, her cheeks, her ears. All the times he had opened her with a finger to probe her secret sweetness and make her moan. \"Did you ever like my touch?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"More than anything,\" she said, \"my giant of Lannister.\"\n\nThat was the worst thing you could have said, sweetling.\n\nTyrion slid a hand under his father's chain, and twisted. The links tightened, digging into her neck. \"For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm,\" he said. He gave cold hands another twist as the warm ones beat away his tears.\n\nAfterward he found Lord Tywin's dagger on the bedside table and shoved it through his belt. A lion-headed mace, a poleaxe, and a crossbow had been hung on the walls. The poleaxe would be clumsy to wield inside a castle, and the mace was too high to reach, but a large wood-and-iron chest had been placed against the wall directly under the crossbow. He climbed up, pulled down the bow and a leather quiver packed with quarrels, jammed afoot into the stirrup, and pushed down until the bowstring cocked. Then he slipped a bolt into the notch.\n\nJaime had lectured him more than once on the drawbacks of crossbows. If Lum and Lester emerged from wherever they were talking, he'd never have time to reload, but at least he'd take one down to hell with him. Lum, if he had a choice. You'll have to clean your own mail, Lum. You lose.\n\nWaddling to the door, he listened a moment, then eased it open slowly. A lamp burned in a stone niche, casting wan yellow light over the empty hallway. Only the flame was moving. Tyrion slid out, holding the crossbow down against his leg.\n\nHe found his father where he knew he'd find him, seated in the dimness of the privy tower, bedrobe hiked up around his hips. At the sound of steps, Lord Tywin raised his eyes."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tyrion gave him a mocking half bow. \"My lord.\"\n\n\"Tyrion.\" If he was afraid, Tywin Lannister gave no hint of it. \"Who released you from your cell?\"\n\n\"I'd love to tell you, but I swore a holy oath.\"\n\n\"The eunuch,\" his father decided. \"I'll have his head for this. Is that my crossbow? Put it down.\"\n\n\"Will you punish me if I refuse, Father?\"\n\n\"This escape is folly. You are not to be killed, if that is what you fear. It's still my intent to send you to the Wall, but I could not do it without Lord Tyrell's consent. Put down the crossbow and we will go back to my chambers and talk of it.\"\n\n\"We can talk here just as well. Perhaps I don't choose to go to the Wall, Father. It's bloody cold up there, and I believe I've had enough coldness from you. So just tell me something, and I'll be on my way. One simple question, you owe me that much.\"\n\n\"I owe you nothing.\"\n\n\"You've given me less than that, all my life, but you'll give me this. What did you do with Tysha?\"\n\n\"Tysha?\"\n\nHe does not even remember her name. \"The girl I married.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. Your first whore.\"\n\nTyrion took aim at his father's chest. \"The next time you say that word, I'll kill you.\"\n\n\"You do not have the courage.\"\n\n\"Shall we find out? It's a short word, and it seems to come so easily to your lips.\" Tyrion gestured impatiently with the bow. \"Tysha. What did you do with her, after my little lesson?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I don't recall.\"\n\n\"Try harder. Did you have her killed?\"\n\nHis father pursed his lips. \"There was no reason for that, she'd learned her place... and had been well paid for her day's work, I seem to recall. I suppose the steward sent heron her way. I never thought to inquire.\"\n\n\"On her way where?\"\n\n\"Wherever whores go.\"\n\nTyrion's finger clenched. The crossbow whanged just as Lord Tywin started to rise. The bolt slammed into him above the groin and he sat back down with a grunt. The quarrel had sunk deep, right to the fletching. Blood seeped out around the shaft, dripping down into his pubic hair and over his bare thighs. \"You shot me,\" he said incredulously, his eyes glassy with shock.\n\n\"You always were quick to grasp a situation, my lord,\" Tyrion said. \"That must be why you're the Hand of the King.\"\n\n\"You... you are no... no son of mine.\"\n\n\"Now that's where you're wrong, Father. Why, I believe I'm you writ small. Dome a kindness now, and die quickly. I have a ship to catch.\"\n\nFor once, his father did what Tyrion asked him. The proof was the sudden stench, as his bowels loosened in the moment of death. Well, he was in the right place for it, Tyrion thought. But the stink that filled the privy gave ample evidence that the oft-repeated jape about his father was just another lie.\n\nLord Tywin Lannister did not, in the end, shit gold."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"SAMWELL\n\nThe king was angry. Sam saw that at once.\n\nAs the black brothers entered one by one and knelt before him, Stannis shoved away his breakfast of hardbread, salt beef, and boiled eggs, and eyed them coldly. Beside him, the red woman Melisandre looked as if she found the scene amusing.\n\nI have no place here, Sam thought anxiously, when her red eyes fell upon him. Someone had to help Maester Aemon up the steps. Don't look at me, I'm just the maester's steward. The others were contenders for the Old Bear's command, all but Bowen Marsh, who had withdrawn from the contest but remained castellan and Lord Steward. Sam did not understand why Melisandre should seem so interested in him.\n\nKing Stannis kept the black brothers on their knees for an extraordinarily longtime. \"Rise,\" he said at last. Sam gave Maester Aemon his shoulder to help him backup.\n\nThe sound of Lord Janos Slynt clearing his throat broke the strained silence. \"Your Grace, let me say how pleased we are to be summoned here. When I saw your banners from the Wall, I knew the realm was saved. \"There comes a man who ne'er forgets his duty, \"I said to good Ser Alliser.\"A strongman, and a true king. ' May I congratulate you on your victory over the savages? The singers will make much of it, I know-\"\n\n\"The singers may do as they like,\" Stannis snapped. \"Spare me your fawning, Janos, it will not serve you.\" He rose to his feet and frowned at them all. \"Lady Melisandre tells me that you have not yet chosen a Lord Commander. I am displeased. How much longer must this folly last?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Sire,\" said Bowen Marsh in a defensive tone, \"no one has achieved two-thirds of the vote yet. It has only been ten days.\"\n\n\"Nine days too long. I have captives to dispose of, a realm to order, a war to fight. Choices must be made, decisions that involve the Wall and the Night's Watch. By rights your Lord Commander should have a voice in those decisions.\"\n\n\"He should, yes,\" said Janos Slynt. \"But it must be said. We brothers are only simple soldiers. Soldiers, yes! And Your Grace will know that soldiers are most comfortable taking orders. They would benefit from your royal guidance, it seems tome. For the good of the realm. To help them choose wisely.\"\n\nThe suggestion outraged some of the others. \"Do you want the king to wipe our arses for us too?\" said Cotter Pyke angrily. \"The choice of a Lord Commander belongs to the Sworn Brothers, and to them alone,\" insisted Ser Denys Mallister. \"If they choose wisely they won't be choosing me,\" moaned Dolorous Edd. Maester Aemon, calm as always, said, \"Your Grace, the Night's Watch has been choosing its own leader since Brandon the Builder raised the Wall. Through Jeor Mormont we have had nine hundred and ninety-seven Lords Commander in unbroken succession, each chosen by the men he would lead, a tradition many thousands of years old.\"\n\nStannis ground his teeth. \"It is not my wish to tamper with your rights and traditions. As to royal guidance, Janos, if you mean that I ought to tell your brothers to choose you, have the courage to say so.\"\n\nThat took Lord Janos aback. He smiled uncertainly and began to sweat, but Bowen Marsh beside him said, \"Who better to command the black cloaks than a man who once commanded the gold, sire?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Any of you, I would think. Even the cook.\" The look the king gave Slynt was cold. \"Janos was hardly the first gold cloak ever to take a bribe, I grant you, but he may have been the first commander to fatten his purse by selling places and promotions. By the end he must have had half the officers in the City Watch paying him part of their wages. Isn't that so, Janos?\"\n\nSlynt's neck was purpling. \"Lies, all lies! A strongman makes enemies, Your Grace knows that, they whisper lies behind your back. Naught was ever proven, not a man came forward...\"\n\n\"Two men who were prepared to come forward died suddenly on their rounds.\" Stannis narrowed his eyes. \"Do not trifle with me, my lord. I saw the proof Jon Arryn laid before the small council. If I had been king you would have lost more than your office, I promise you, but Robert shrugged away your little lapses. \"They all steal,\" I recall him saying. \"Better a thief we know than one we don't, the next man might be worse. \"Lord Petyr's words in my brother's mouth, I'll warrant. Littlefinger had a nose for gold, and I'm certain he arranged matters so the crown profited as much from your corruption as you did yourself.\"\n\nLord Slynt's jowls were quivering, but before he could frame a further protest Maester Aemon said, \"Your Grace, bylaw a man's past crimes and transgressions are wiped clean when he says his words and becomes a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch.\"\n\n\"I am aware of that. If it happens that Lord Janos here is the best the Night's Watch can offer, I shall grit my teeth and choke him down. It is naught tome which man of you is chosen, so long as you make a choice. We have a war to fight.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Your Grace,\" said Ser Denys Mallister, intones of wary courtesy. \"If you are speaking of the wildlings...\"\n\n\"I am not. And you know that, ser.\"\n\n\"And you must know that whilst we are thankful for the aid you rendered us against Mance Rayder, we can offer you no help in your contest for the throne. The Night's Watch takes no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms. For eight thousand years-\"\n\n\"I know your history, Ser Denys,\" the king said brusquely. \"I give you my word, I shall not ask you to lift your swords against any of the rebels and usurpers who plague me. I do expect that you will continue to defend the Wall as you always have.\"\n\n\"We'll defend the Wall to the last man,\" said Cotter Pyke.\n\n\"Probably me,\" said Dolorous Edd, in a resigned tone.\n\nStannis crossed his arms. \"I shall require a few other things from you as well. Things that you may not be so quick to give. I want your castles. And I want the Gift.\"\n\nThose blunt words burst among the black brothers like a pot of wildfire tossed onto a brazier. Marsh, Mallister, and Pyke all tried to speak at once. King Stannis let them talk. When they were done, he said, \"I have three times the men you do. I can take the lands if I wish, but I would prefer to do this legally, with your consent.\"\n\n\"The Gift was given to the Night's Watch in perpetuity, Your Grace,\" Bowen Marsh insisted.\n\n\"Which means it cannot be lawfully seized, attained, or taken from you. But what was given once can be given again.\"\n\n\"What will you do with the Gift?\" demanded Cotter Pyke."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Make better use of it than you have. As to the castles, Eastwatch, Castle Black, and the Shadow Tower shall remain yours. Garrison them as you always have, but I must take the others for my garrisons if we are to hold the Wall.\"\n\n\"You do not have the men,\" objected Bowen Marsh.\n\n\"Some of the abandoned castles are scarce more than ruins,\" said Othell Yarwyck, the First Builder.\n\n\"Ruins can be rebuilt.\"\n\n\"Rebuilt?\" Yarwyck said. \"But who will do the work?\"\n\n\"That is my concern. I shall require a list from you, detailing the present state of every castle and what might be required to restore it. I mean to have them all garrisoned again within the year, and nightfires burning before their gates.\"\n\n\"Nightfires?\" Bowen Marsh gave Melisandre an uncertain look. \"We're to light nightfires now?\"\n\n\"You are.\" The woman rose in a swirl of scarlet silk, her long copper-bright hair tumbling about her shoulders. \"Swords alone cannot hold this darkness back. Only the light of the Lord can do that. Make no mistake, good sers and valiant brothers, the war we've come to fight is no petty squabble over lands and honors. Ours is a war for life itself, and should we fail the world dies with us.\"\n\nThe officers did not know how to take that, Sam could see. Bowen Marsh and Othell Yarwyck exchanged a doubtful look, Janos Slynt was fuming, and Three-Finger Hobb looked as though he would sooner be back chopping carrots. But all of them seemed surprised to hear Maester Aemon murmur, \"It is the war for the dawn you speak of, my lady. But where is the prince that was promised?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He stands before you,\" Melisandre declared, \"though you do not have the eyes to see. Stannis Baratheon is Azor Ahai come again, the warrior of fire. In him the prophecies are fulfilled. The red comet blazed across the sky to herald his coming, and he bears Lightbringer, the red sword of heroes.\"\n\nHer words seemed to make the king desperately uncomfortable, Sam saw. Stannis ground his teeth, and said, \"You called and I came, my lords. Now you must live with me, or die with me. Best get used to that.\" He made a brusque gesture. \"That's all. Maester, stay a moment. And you, Tarly. The rest of you may go.\"\n\nMe? Sam thought, stricken, as his brothers were bowing and making their way out. What does he want with me?\n\n\"You are the one that killed the creature in the snow,\" King Stannis said, when only the four of them remained.\n\n\"Sam the Slayer.\" Melisandre smiled.\n\nSam felt his face turning red. \"No, my lady. Your Grace. I mean, I am, yes. I'm Samwell Tarly, yes.\"\n\n\"Your father is an able soldier,\" King Stannis said. \"He defeated my brother once, at Ashford. Mace Tyrell has been pleased to claim the honors for that victory, but Lord Randyll had decided matters before Tyrell ever found the battlefield. He slew Lord Cafferen with that great Valyrian sword of his and sent his head to Aerys.\" The king rubbed his jaw with a finger. \"You are not the sort of son I would expect such a man to have.\"\n\n\"I... I am not the sort of son he wanted, sire.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"If you had not taken the black, you would make a useful hostage,\" Stannis mused.\n\n\"He has taken the black, sire,\" Maester Aemon pointed out.\n\n\"I am well aware of that,\" the king said. \"I am aware of more than you know, Aemon Targaryen.\"\n\nThe old man inclined his head. \"I am only Aemon, sire. We give up our House names when we forge our maester's chains.\"\n\nThe king gave that a curt nod, as if to say he knew and did not care. \"You slew this creature with an obsidian dagger, I am told,\" he said to Sam.\n\n\"Y-yes, Your Grace. Jon Snow gave it tome.\"\n\n\"Dragonglass.\" The red woman's laugh was music. \"Frozen fire, in the tongue of old Valyria. Small wonder it is anathema to these cold children of the Other.\"\n\n\"On Dragonstone, where I had my seat, there is much of this obsidian to be seen in the old tunnels beneath the mountain,\" the king told Sam. \"Chunks of it, boulders, ledges. The great part of it was black, as I recall, but there was some green as well, some red, even purple. I have sent word to Ser Rolland my castellan to begin mining it. I will not hold Dragonstone for very much longer, I fear, but perhaps the Lord of Light shall grant us enough frozen fire to arm ourselves against these creatures, before the castle falls.\"\n\nSam cleared his throat. \"S-sire. The dagger... the dragonglass only shattered when I tried to stab a wight.\"\n\nMelisandre smiled. \"Necromancy animates these wights, yet they are still only dead flesh. Steel and fire will serve for them. The ones you call the Others are something more.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Demons made of snow and ice and cold,\" said Stannis Baratheon."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The ancient enemy. The only enemy that matters.\" He considered Sam again. \"I am told that you and this wildling girl passed beneath the Wall, through some magic gate.\"\n\n\"The B-black Gate,\" Sam stammered. \"Below the Nightfort.\"\n\n\"The Nightfort is the largest and oldest of the castles on the Wall,\" the king said. \"That is where I intend to make my seat, whilst I fight this war. You will show me this gate.\"\n\n\"I,\" said Sam, \"I w-will, if...\" If it is still there. If it will open fora man not of the black. If...\n\n\"You will,\" snapped Stannis. \"I shall tell you when.\"\n\nMaester Aemon smiled. \"Your Grace,\" he said, \"before we go, I wonder if you would do us the great honor of showing us this wondrous blade we have all heard so very much of.\"\n\n\"You want to see Lightbringer? A blind man?\"\n\n\"Sam shall be my eyes.\"\n\nThe king frowned. \"Everyone else has seen the thing, why not a blind man?\" His swordbelt and scabbard hung from a peg near the hearth. He took the belt down and drew the longsword out. Steel scraped against wood and leather, and radiance filled the solar; shimmering, shifting, a dance of gold and orange and red light, all the bright colors of fire.\n\n\"Tell me, Samwell.\" Maester Aemon touched his arm.\n\n\"It glows,\" said Sam, in a hushed voice. \"As if it were on fire. There are no flames, but the steel is yellow and red and orange, all flashing and glimmering, like sunshine on water, but prettier. I wish you could see it, Maester.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I see it now, Sam. A sword full of sunlight. So lovely to behold.\" The old man bowed stiffly. \"Your Grace. My lady. This was most kind of you.\"\n\nWhen King Stannis sheathed the shining sword, the room seemed to grow very dark, despite the sunlight streaming through the window. \"Very well, you've seen it. You may return to your duties now. And remember what I said. Your brothers will chose a Lord Commander tonight, or I shall make them wish they had.\"\n\nMaester Aemon was lost in thought as Sam helped him down the narrow turnpike stair. But as they were crossing the yard, he said, \"I felt no heat. Did you, Sam?\"\n\n\"Heat? From the sword?\" He thought back. \"The air around it was shimmering, the way it does above a hot brazier.\"\n\n\"Yet you felt no heat, did you? And the scabbard that held this sword, it is wood and leather, yes? I heard the sound when His Grace drew out the blade. Was the leather scorched, Sam? Did the wood seem burnt or blackened?\"\n\n\"No,\" Sam admitted. \"Not that I could see.\"\n\nMaester Aemon nodded. Back in his own chambers, he asked Sam to set afire and help him to his chair beside the hearth. \"It is hard to be so old,\" he sighed as he settled onto the cushion. \"And harder still to be so blind. I miss the sun. And books. I miss books most of all.\" Aemon waved a hand. \"I shall have no more need of you till the choosing.\"\n\n\"The choosing... Maester, isn't there something you could do? What the king said of Lord Janos...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I recall,\" Maester Aemon said, \"but Sam, I am a maester, chained and sworn. My duty is to counsel the Lord Commander, whoever he might be. It would not be proper for me to be seen to favor one contender over another.\"\n\n\"I'm not a maester,\" said Sam. \"Could I do something?\"\n\nAemon turned his blind white eyes toward Sam's face, and smiled softy. \"Why, I don't know, Samwell. Could you?\"\n\nI could, Sam thought. I have to. He had to do it right away, too. If he hesitated he was certain to lose his courage. I am a man of the Night's Watch, he reminded himself as he hurried across the yard. I am. I can do this. There had been a time when he had quaked and squeaked if Lord Mormont so much as looked at him, but that was the old Sam, before the Fist of the First Men and Craster's Keep, before the wights and Coldhands and the Other on his dead horse. He was braver now. Gilly made me braver, he'd told Jon. It was true. It had to be true.\n\nCotter Pyke was the scarier of the two commanders, so Sam went to him first, while his courage was still hot. He found him in the old Shieldhall, dicing with three of his Eastwatch men and a red-headed sergeant who had come from Dragonstone with Stannis.\n\nWhen Sam begged leave to speak with him, though, Pyke barked an order, and the others took the dice and coins and left them.\n\nNo man would ever call Cotter Pyke handsome, though the body under his studded brigantine and roughspun breeches was lean and hard and wiry strong. His eyes were small and close-set, his nose broken, his widow's peak as sharply pointed as the head of a spear. The pox had ravaged his face badly, and the beard he'd grown to hide the scars was thin and scraggly."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Sam the Slayer!\" he said, byway of greeting. \"Are you sure you stabbed an Other, and not some child's snow knight?\"\n\nThis isn't starting well. \"It was the dragonglass that killed it, my lord,\" Sam explained feebly.\n\n\"Aye, no doubt. Well, outwith it, Slayer. Did the maester send you tome?\"\n\n\"The maester?\" Sam swallowed. \"I... I just left him, my lord.\" That wasn't truly a lie, but if Pyke chose to read it wrong, it might make him more inclined to listen. Sam took a deep breath and launched into his plea.\n\nPyke cut him off before he'd said twenty words. \"You want me to kneel down and kiss the hem of Mallister's pretty cloak, is that it? I might have known. You lordlings all flock like sheep. Well, tell Aemon that he's wasted your breath and my time. If anyone withdraws it should be Mallister. The man's too bloody old for the job, maybe you ought to go tell him that. We choose him, and we're like to be back herein a year, choosing someone else.\"\n\n\"He's old,\" Sam agreed, \"but he's well ex-experienced.\"\n\n\"At sitting in his tower and fussing over maps, maybe. What does he plan to do, write letters to the wights? He's a knight, well and good, but he's not a fighter, and I don't give a kettle of piss who he unhorsed in some fool tourney fifty years ago. The Halfhand fought all his battles, even an old blind man should see that. And we need a fighter more than ever with this bloody king on top of us. Today it's ruins and empty fields, well and good, but what will His Grace want come the morrow? You think Mallister has the belly to stand up to Stannis Baratheon and that red bitch?\" He laughed. \"I don't.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You won't support him, then?\" said Sam, dismayed.\n\n\"Are you Sam the Slayer or Deaf Dick? No, I won't support him.\" Pyke jabbed a finger at his face. \"Understand this, boy. I don't want the bloody job, and never did. I fight best with a deck beneath me, not a horse, and Castle Black is too far from the sea. But I'll be buggered with a red-hot sword before I turn the Night's Watch over to that preening eagle from the Shadow Tower. And you can run back to the old man and tell him I said so, if he asks.\" He stood. \"Get out of my sight.\"\n\nIt took all the courage Sam had left in him to say, \"W-what if there was someone else? Could yous-support someone else?\"\n\n\"Who? Bowen Marsh? The man counts spoons. Othell's a follower, does what he's told and does it well, but no more'n that. Slynt... well, his men like him, I'll grant you, and it would almost be worth it to stick him down the royal craw and see if Stannis gagged, but no. There's too much of King's Landing in that one. A toad grows wings and thinks he's a bloody dragon.\" Pyke laughed. \"Who does that leave, Hobb? We could pick him, I suppose, only then who's going to boil your mutton, Slayer? You look like a man who likes his bloody mutton.\"\n\nThere was nothing more to say. Defeated, Sam could only stammer out his thanks and take his leave. I will do better with Ser Denys, he tried to tell himself as he walked through the castle. Ser Denys was a knight, highborn and well-spoken, and he had treated Sam most courteously when he'd found him and Gilly on the road. Ser Denys will listen tome, he has to."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The commander of the Shadow Tower had been born beneath the Booming Tower of Seagard, and looked every inch a Mallister. Sable trimmed his collar and accented the sleeves of his black velvet doublet. A silver eagle fastened its claws in the gathered folds of his cloak. His beard was white as snow, his hair was largely gone, and his face was deeply lined, it was true. Yet he still had grace in his movements and teeth in his mouth, and the years had dimmed neither his blue-grey eyes nor his courtesy.\n\n\"My lord of Tarly,\" he said, when his steward brought Sam to him in the Lance, where the Shadow Tower men were staying. \"I am pleased to see that you've recovered from your ordeal. Might I offer you a cup of wine? Your lady mother is a Florent, I recall. One day I must tell you about the time I unhorsed both of your grandfathers in the same tourney. Not today, though, I know we have more pressing concerns. You come from Maester Aemon, to be sure. Does he have counsel to offer me?\"\n\nSam took a sip of wine, and chose his words with care. \"A maester chained and sworn... it would not be proper for him to be seen as having influenced the choice of Lord Commander...\"\n\nThe old knight smiled. \"Which is why he has not come tome himself. Yes, I quite understand, Samwell. Aemon and I are both old men, and wise in such matters. Say what you came to say.\"\n\nThe wine was sweet, and Ser Denys listened to Sam's plea with grave courtesy, unlike Cotter Pyke. But when he was done, the old knight shook his head. \"I agree that it would be a dark day in our history if a king were to name our Lord Commander. This king especially. He is not like to keep his crown for long. But truly, Samwell, it ought to be Pyke who withdraws. I have more support than he does, and I am better suited to the office.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You are,\" Sam agreed, \"but Cotter Pyke might serve. It's said he has oft proved himself in battle.\" He did not mean to offend Ser Denys by praising his rival, but how else could he convince him to withdraw?\n\n\"Many of my brothers have proved themselves in battle. It is not enough. Some matters cannot be settled with a battleaxe. Maester Aemon will understand that, though Cotter Pyke does not. The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch is a lord, first and foremost. He must be able to treat with other lords... and with kings as well. He must be a man worthy of respect.\" Ser Denys leaned forward. \"We are the sons of great lords, you and I. We know the importance of birth, blood, and that early training that can ne'er be replaced. I was a squire at twelve, a knight at eighteen, a champion at two-and-twenty. I have been the commander at the Shadow Tower for thirty-three years. Blood, birth, and training have fitted me to deal with kings. Pyke... well, did you hear him this morning, asking if His Grace would wipe his bottom? Samwell, it is not my habit to speak unkindly of my brothers, but let us be frank... the ironborn area race of pirates and thieves, and Cotter Pyke was raping and murdering when he was still half a boy. Maester Harmune reads and writes his letters, and has for years. No, loath as I am to disappoint Maester Aemon, I could not in honor stand aside for Pyke of Eastwatch.\"\n\nThis time Sam was ready. \"Might you for someone else? If it was someone more suitable?\"\n\nSer Denys considered a moment. \"I have never desired the honor for its own sake. At the last choosing, I stepped aside gratefully when Lord Mormont's name was offered, just as I had for Lord Qorgyle at the choosing before that. So long as the Night's Watch remains in good hands, I am content. But Bowen Marsh is not equal to the task, no more than Othell Yarwyck. And this so-called Lord of Harrenhal is a butcher's whelp unjumped by the Lannisters. Small wonder he is venal and corrupt.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"There's another man,\" Sam blurted out. \"Lord Commander Mormont trusted him. So did Donal Noye and Qhorin Halfhand. Though he's not as highly born as you, he comes from old blood. He was castle-born and castle-raised, and he learned sword and lance from a knight and letters from a maester of the Citadel. His father was a lord, and his brother a king.\"\n\nSer Denys stroked his long white beard. \"Mayhaps,\" he said, after along moment. \"He is very young, but... mayhaps. He might serve, I grant you, though I would be more suitable. I have no doubt of that. I would be the wiser choice.\"\n\nJon said there could be honor in a lie, if it were told for the right reason. Sam said, \"If we do not choose a Lord Commander tonight, King Stannis means to name Cotter Pyke. He said as much to Maester Aemon this morning, after all of you had left.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Ser Denys rose. \"I must think on this. Thank you, Samwell. And give my thanks to Maester Aemon as well.\"\n\nSam was trembling by the time he left the Lance. What have I done? he thought. What have I said? If they caught him in his lie, they would... what? Send me to the Wall? Rip my entrails out? Turn me into a wight? Suddenly it all seemed absurd. How could he be so frightened of Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister, when he had seen a raven eating Small Paul's face?\n\nPyke was not pleased by his return. \"You again? Make it quick, you are starting to annoy me.\"\n\n\"I only need a moment more,\" Sam promised. \"You won't withdraw for Ser Denys, you said, but you might for someone else.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Collaborate on the narrative and advance it.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 78\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"That startled him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\nStannis snorted. \\\"I know Janos Slynt. And I knew Ned Stark as well. Your father was no friend of mine, but only a fool would doubt his honor or his honesty. You have his look.\\\" A big man, Stannis Baratheon towered over Jon, but he was so gaunt that he looked ten years older than he was. \\\"I know more than you might think, Jon Snow. I know it was you who found the dragonglass dagger that Randyll Tarly's son used to slay the Other.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ghost found it. The blade was wrapped in a ranger's cloak and buried beneath the Fist of the First Men. There were other blades as well... spearheads, arrowheads, all dragonglass.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know you held the gate here,\\\" King Stannis said. \\\"If not, I would have come too late.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Donal Noye held the gate. He died below in the tunnel, fighting the king of the giants.\\\"\\n\\nStannis grimaced. \\\"Noye made my first sword for me, and Robert's warhammer as well. Had the god seen fit to spare him, he would have made a better Lord Commander for your order than any of these fools who are squabbling over it now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister are no fools, sire,\\\" Jon said. \\\"They're good men, and capable. Othell Yarwyck as well, in his own way. Lord Mormont trusted each of them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your Lord Mormont trusted too easily. Else he would not have died as he did. But we were speaking of you. I have not forgotten that it was you who brought us this magic horn, and captured Mance Rayder's wife and son.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Dalla died.\\\" Jon was saddened by that still. \\\"Val is her sister. She and the babe did not require much capturing, Your Grace. You had put the wildlings to flight, and the skinchanger Mance had left to guard his queen went mad when the eagle burned.\\\" Jon looked at Melisandre. \\\"Some say that was your doing.\\\"\\n\\nShe smiled, her long copper hair tumbling across her face. \\\"The Lord of Light has fiery talons, Jon Snow.\\\"\\n\\nJon nodded, and turned back to the king. \\\"Your Grace, you spoke of Val. She has asked to see Mance Rayder, to bring his son to him. It would be a... a kindness.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The man is a deserter from your order. Your brothers are all insisting on his death. Why should I do him a kindness?\\\"\\n\\nJon had no answer for that. \\\"If not for him, for Val. For her sister's sake, the child's mother.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are fond of this Val?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I scarcely know her.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They tell me she is comely.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very,\\\" Jon admitted.\\n\\n\\\"Beauty can be treacherous. My brother learned that lesson from Cersei Lannister. She murdered him, do not doubt it. Your father and Jon Arryn as well.\\\" He scowled. \\\"You rode with these wildlings. Is there any honor in them, do you think?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Jon said, \\\"but their own sort of honor, sire.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In Mance Rayder?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. I think so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In the Lord of Bones?\\\"\\n\\nJon hesitated. \\\"Rattleshirt, we called him. Treacherous and blood-thirsty. If there's honor in him, he hides it down beneath his suit of bones.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And this other man, this Tormund of the many names who eluded us after the battle? Answer me truly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tormund Giantsbane seemed tome the sort of man who would make a good friend and a bad enemy, Your Grace.\\\"\\n\\nStannis gave a curt nod. \\\"Your father was a man of honor. He was no friend tome, but I saw his worth. Your brother was a rebel and a traitor who meant to steal half my kingdom, but no man can question his courage. What of you?\\\"\\n\\nDoes he want me to say I love him? Jon's voice was stiff and formal as he said, \\\"I am a man of the Night's Watch.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Words. Words are wind. Why do you think I abandoned Dragonstone and sailed to the Wall, Lord Snow?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am no lord, sire. You came because we sent for you, I hope. Though I could not say why you took so long about it.\\\"\\n\\nSurprisingly, Stannis smiled at that. \\\"You're bold enough to be a Stark. Yes, I should have come sooner. If not for my Hand, I might not have come at all. Lord Seaworth is a man of humble birth, but he reminded me of my duty, when all I could think of was my rights. I had the cart before the horse, Davos said. I was trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, when I should have been trying to save the kingdom to win the throne.\\\" Stannis pointed north. \\\"There is where I'll find the foe that I was born to fight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"His name may not bespoken,\\\" Melisandre added softly. \\\"He is the God of Night and Terror, Jon Snow, and these shapes in the snow are his creatures.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They tell me that you slew one of these walking corpses to save Lord Mormont's life,\\\" Stannis said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It maybe that this is your war as well, Lord Snow. If you will give me your help.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My sword is pledged to the Night's Watch, Your Grace,\\\" Jon Snow answered carefully.\\n\\nThat did not please the king. Stannis ground his teeth and said, \\\"I need more than a sword from you.\\\"\\n\\nJon was lost. \\\"My lord?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I need the north.\\\"\\n\\nThe north. \\\"I... my brother Robb was King in the North...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your brother was the rightful Lord of Winterfell. If he had stayed home and done his duty, instead of crowning himself and riding off to conquer the riverlands, he might be alive today. Be that as it may. You are not Robb, no more than I am Robert.\\\"\\n\\nThe harsh words had blown away whatever sympathy Jon might have had for Stannis. \\\"I loved my brother,\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"And I mine. Yet they were what they were, and so are we. I am the only true king in Westeros, north or south. And you are Ned Stark's bastard.\\\" Stannis studied him with those dark blue eyes. \\\"Tywin Lannister has named Roose Bolton his Warden of the North, to reward him for betraying your brother. The ironmen are fighting amongst themselves since Balon Greyjoy's death, yet they still hold Moat Cailin, Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's Square, and most of the Stony Shore. Your father's lands are bleeding, and I have neither the strength nor the time to stanch the wounds. What is needed is a Lord of Winterfell. A loyal Lord of Winterfell.\\\"\\n\\nHe is looking at me, Jon thought, stunned. \\\"Winterfell is no more. Theon Greyjoy put it to the torch.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Granite does not burn easily,\\\" Stannis said. \\\"The castle can be rebuilt, in time. It's not the walls that make a lord, it's the man. Your northmen do not know me, have no reason to love me, yet I will need their strength in the battles yet to come. I need a son of Eddard Stark to win them to my banner.\\\"\\n\\nHe would make me Lord of Winterfell. The wind was gusting, and Jon felt so light-headed he was half afraid it would blow him off the Wall. \\\"Your Grace,\\\" he said, \\\"you forget. I am a Snow, not a Stark.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's you who are forgetting,\\\" King Stannis replied.\\n\\nMelisandre put a warm hand on Jon's arm. \\\"A king can remove the taint of bastardy with a stroke, Lord Snow.\\\"\\n\\nLord Snow. Ser Alliser Thorne had named him that, to mock his bastard birth. Many of his brothers had taken to using it as well, some with affection, others to wound. But suddenly it had a different sound to it in Jon's ears. It sounded... real. \\\"Yes,\\\" he said, hesitantly, \\\"kings have legitimized bastards before, but... I am still a brother of the Night's Watch. I knelt before a heart tree and swore to hold no lands and father no children.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Jon.\\\" Melisandre was so close he could feel the warmth of her breath. \\\"R'hllor is the only true god. Avow sworn to a tree has no more power than one sworn to your shoes. Open your heart and let the light of the Lord come in. Burn these weirwoods, and accept Winterfell as a gift of the Lord of Light.\\\"\\n\\nWhen Jon had been very young, too young to understand what it meant to be a bastard, he used to dream that one day Winterfell might be his. Later, when he was older, he had been ashamed of those dreams. Winterfell would go to Robb and then his sons, or to Bran or Rickon should Robb die childless. And after them came Sansa and Arya. Even to dream otherwise seemed disloyal, as if he were betraying them in his heart, wishing for their deaths. I never wanted this, he thought as he stood before the blue-eyed king and the red woman. I loved Robb, loved all of them... I never wanted any harm to come to any of them, but it did. And now there's only me. All he had to do was say the word, and he would be Jon Stark, and nevermore a Snow. All he had to do was pledge this king his fealty, and Winterfell was his. All he had to do...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"... was forswear his vows again.\\n\\nAnd this time it would not be a ruse. To claim his father's castle, he must turn against his father's gods.\\n\\nKing Stannis gazed off north again, his gold cloak streaming from his shoulders. \\\"It maybe that I am mistaken in you, Jon Snow. We both know the things that are said of bastards. You may lack your father's honor, or your brother's skill in arms. But you are the weapon the Lord has given me. I have found you here, as you found the cache of dragonglass beneath the Fist, and I mean to make use of you. Even Azor Ahai did not win his war alone. I killed a thousand wildlings, took another thousand captive, and scattered the rest, but we both know they will return. Melisandre has seen that in her fires. This Tormund Thunderfist is likely re-forming them even now, and planning some new assault. And the more we bleed each other, the weaker we shall all be when the real enemy falls upon us.\\\"\\n\\nJon had come to that same realization. \\\"As you say, Your Grace.\\\" He wondered where this king, was going.\\n\\n\\\"Whilst your brothers have been struggling to decide who shall lead them, I have been speaking with this Mance Rayder.\\\" He ground his teeth. \\\"A stubborn man, that one, and prideful. He will leave me no choice but to give him to the flames. But we took other captives as well, other leaders. The one who calls himself the Lord of Bones, some of their clan chiefs, the new Magnar of Thenn. Your brothers will not like it, no more than your father's lords, but I mean to allow the wildlings through the Wall... those who will swear me their fealty, pledge to keep the king's peace and the king's laws, and take the Lord of Light as their god. Even the giants, if those great knees of theirs can bend. I will settle them on the Gift, once I have wrested it away from your new Lord Commander. When the cold winds rise, we shall live or die together. It is time we made alliance against our common foe.\\\" He looked at Jon. \\\"Would you agree?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"My father dreamed of resettling the Gift,\\\" Jon admitted. \\\"He and my uncle Benjen used to talk of it.\\\" He never thought of settling it with wildlings, though... but he never rode with wildlings, either. He did not fool himself; the free folk would make for unruly subjects and dangerous neighbors. Yet when he weighed Ygritte's red hair against the cold blue eyes of the wights, the choice was easy. \\\"I agree.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Good,\\\" King Stannis said, \\\"for the surest way to seal anew alliance is with a marriage. I mean towed my Lord of Winterfell to this wildling princess.\\\"\\n\\nPerhaps Jon had ridden with the free folk too long; he could not help but laugh. \\\"Your Grace,\\\" he said, \\\"captive or no, if you think you can just give Val tome, I fear you have a deal to learn about wildling women. Whoever weds her had best be prepared to climb in her tower window and carry her off at swordpoint...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Whoever?\\\" Stannis gave him a measuring look. \\\"Does this mean you will not wed the girl? I warn you, she is part of the price you must pay, if you want your father's name and your father's castle. This match is necessary, to help assure the loyalty of our new subjects. Are you refusing me, Jon Snow?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Jon said, too quickly. It was Winterfell the king was speaking of, and Winterfell was not to be lightly refused. \\\"I mean... this has all come very suddenly, Your Grace. Might I beg you for sometime to consider?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you wish. But consider quickly. I am not a patient man, as your black brothers are about to discover.\\\" Stannis put a thin, fleshless hand on Jon's shoulder. \\\"Say nothing of what we've discussed here today. To anyone. But when you return, you need only bend your knee, lay your sword at my feet, and pledge yourself to my service, and you shall rise again as Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"TYRION\\n\\nWhen he heard noises through the thick wooden door of his cell, Tyrion Lannister prepared to die.\\n\\nPast time, he thought. Come on, come on, make an end to it. He pushed himself to his feet. His legs were asleep from being folded under him. He bent down and rubbed the knives from them. I will not go stumbling and waddling to the headsman's block.\\n\\nHe wondered whether they would kill him down herein the dark or drag him through the city so Ser Ilyn Payne could lop his head off. After his mummer's farce of atrial, his sweet sister and loving father might prefer to dispose of him quietly, rather than risk a public execution. I could tell the mob a few choice things, if they let me speak. But would they be that foolish?\\n\\nAs the keys rattled and the door to his cell pushed inward, creaking, Tyrion pressed back against the dampness of the wall, wishing fora weapon. I can still bite and kick. I'll die with the taste of blood in my mouth, that's something. He wished he'd been able to think of some rousing last words. \\\"Bugger you all\\\" was not like to earn him much of a place in the histories.\\n\\nTorchlight fell across his face. He shielded his eyes with a hand. \\\"Come on, are you frightened of a dwarf? Do it, you son of a poxy whore.\\\" His voice had grown hoarse from disuse.\\n\\n\\\"Is that anyway to speak about our lady mother?\\\" The man moved forward, a torch in his left hand. \\\"This is even more ghastly than my cell at Riverrun, though not quite so dank.\\\"\\n\\nFora moment Tyrion could not breathe. \\\"You?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Well, most of me.\\\" Jaime was gaunt, his hair hacked short. \\\"I left a hand at Harrenhal. Bringing the Brave Companions across the narrow sea was not one of Father's better notions.\\\" He lifted his arm, and Tyrion saw the stump.\\n\\nA bark of hysterical laughter burst from his lips. \\\"Oh, gods,\\\" he said. \\\"Jaime, I am so sorry, but... gods be good, look at the two of us. Handless and Noseless, the Lannister boys.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There were days when my hand smelled so bad I wished I was noseless.\\\" Jaime lowered the torch, so the light bathed his brother's face. \\\"An impressive scar.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion turned away from the glare. \\\"They made me fight a battle without my big brother to protect me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I heard tell you almost burned the city down.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A filthy lie. I only burned the river.\\\" Abruptly, Tyrion remembered where he was, and why. \\\"Are you hereto kill me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now that's ungrateful. Perhaps I should leave you hereto rot if you're going to be so discourteous.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rotting is not the fate Cersei has in mind for me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well no, if truth be told. You're to be beheaded on the morrow, out on the old tourney grounds.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion laughed again. \\\"Will there be food? You'll have to help me with my last words, my wits have been running about like a rat in a root cellar.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You won't need last words. I'm rescuing you.\\\" Jaime's voice was strangely solemn.\\n\\n\\\"Who said I required rescue?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You know, I'd almost forgotten what an annoying little man you are. Now that you've reminded me, I do believe I'll let Cersei cut your head off after all.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh no you won't.\\\" He waddled out of the cell. \\\"Is it day or night up above? I've lost all sense of time.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Three hours past midnight. The city sleeps.\\\" Jaime slid the torch back into its sconce, on the wall between the cells.\\n\\nThe corridor was so poorly lit that Tyrion almost stumbled on the turnkey, sprawled across the cold stone floor. He prodded him with a toe. \\\"Is he dead?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Asleep. The other three as well. The eunuch dosed their wine with sweetsleep, but not enough to kill them. Or so he swears. He is waiting back at the stair, dressed up in a septon's robe. You're going down into the sewers, and from thereto the river. A galley is waiting in the bay. Varys has agents in the Free Cities who will see that you do not lack for funds... but try not to be conspicuous. Cersei will send men after you, I have no doubt. You might do well to take another name.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Another name? Oh, certainly. And when the Faceless Men come to kill me, I'll say,\\\"No, you have the wrong man, I'm a different dwarf with a hideous facial scar.\\\"\\\" Both Lannisters laughed at the absurdity of it all. Then Jaime went to one knee and kissed him quickly once on each cheek, his lips brushing against the puckered ribbon of scar tissue.\\n\\n\\\"Thank you, Brother,\\\" Tyrion said. \\\"For my life.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It was... a debt I owed you.\\\" Jaime's voice was strange.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"A debt?\\\" He cocked his head. \\\"I do not understand.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Good. Some doors are best left closed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, dear,\\\" said Tyrion. \\\"Is there something grim and ugly behind it? Could it be that someone said something cruel about me once? I'll try not to weep. Tell me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tyrion...\\\"\\n\\nJaime is afraid. \\\"Tell me,\\\" Tyrion said again.\\n\\nHis brother looked away. \\\"Tysha,\\\" he said softly.\\n\\n\\\"Tysha?\\\" His stomach tightened. \\\"What of her?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She was no whore. I never bought her for you. That was a lie that Father commanded me to tell. Tysha was... she was what she seemed to be. A crofter's daughter, chance met on the road.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion could hear the faint sound of his own breath whistling hollowly through the scar of his nose. Jaime could not meet his eyes. Tysha. He tried to remember what she had looked like. A girl, she was only a girl, no older than Sansa. \\\"My wife,\\\" he croaked. \\\"Shewed me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"For your gold, Father said. She was lowborn, you were a Lannister of Casterly Rock. All she wanted was the gold, which made her no different from a whore, so... so it would not be a lie, not truly, and... he said that you required a sharp lesson. That you would learn from it, and thank me later...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thank you?\\\" Tyrion's voice was choked. \\\"He gave her to his guards. A barracks full of guards. He made me... watch.\\\" Aye, and more than watch. I took her too... my wife...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I never knew he would do that. You must believe me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, must I?\\\" Tyrion snarled. \\\"Why should I believe you about anything, ever? She was my wife!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tyrion-\\\"\\n\\nHe hit him. It was a slap, backhanded, but he put all his strength into it, all his fear, all his rage, all his pain. Jaime was squatting, unbalanced. The blow sent him tumbling backward to the floor. \\\"I... I suppose I earned that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, you've earned more than that, Jaime. You and my sweet sister and our loving father, yes, I can't begin to tell you what you've earned. But you'll have it, that I swear to you. A Lannister always pays his debts.\\\" Tyrion waddled away, almost stumbling over the turnkey again in his haste. Before he had gone a dozen yards, he bumped up against an iron gate that closed the passage. Oh, gods. It was all he could do not to scream.\\n\\nJaime came up behind him. \\\"I have the gaoler's keys.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then use them.\\\" Tyrion stepped aside.\\n\\nJaime unlocked the gate, pushed it open, and stepped through. He looked back over his shoulder. \\\"Are you coming?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not with you.\\\" Tyrion stepped through. \\\"Give me the keys and go. I will find Varys on my own.\\\" He cocked his head and stared up at his brother with his mismatched eyes. \\\"Jaime, can you fight left-handed?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rather less well than you,\\\" Jaime said bitterly.\\n\\n\\\"Good. Then we will be well matched if we should ever meet again. The cripple and the dwarf.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jaime handed him the ring of keys. \\\"I gave you the truth. You owe me the same. Did you do it? Did you kill him?\\\"\\n\\nThe question was another knife, twisting in his guts. \\\"Are you sure you want to know?\\\" asked Tyrion. \\\"Joffrey would have been a worse king than Aerys ever was. He stole his father's dagger and gave it to a footpad to slit the throat of Brandon Stark, did you know that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I... I thought he might have.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, a son takes after his father. Joff would have killed meas well, once he came into his power. For the crime of being short and ugly, of which I am so conspicuously guilty.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have not answered my question.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You poor stupid blind crippled fool. Must Ispell every little thing out for you? Very well. Cersei is a lying whore, she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know. And I am the monster they all say I am. Yes, I killed your vile son.\\\" He made himself grin. It must have been a hideous sight to see, therein the torchlit gloom.\\n\\nJaime turned without a word and walked away.\\n\\nTyrion watched him go, striding on his long strong legs, and part of him wanted to call out, to tell him that it wasn't true, to beg for his forgiveness. But then he thought of Tysha, and he held his silence. He listened to the receding footsteps until he could hear them no longer, then waddled off to look for Varys.\\n\\nThe eunuch was lurking in the dark of a twisting turnpike stair, garbed in a moth-eaten brown robe with a hood that hid the paleness of his face. \\\"You were so long, I feared that something had gone amiss,\\\" he said when he saw Tyrion.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Oh, no,\\\" Tyrion assured him, in poisonous tones. \\\"What could possibly have gone amiss?\\\" He twisted his head back to stare up. \\\"I sent for you during my trial.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I could not come. The queen had me watched, night and day. I dared not help you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're helping me now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Am I? Ah.\\\" Varys giggled. It seemed strangely out of place in this place of cold stone and echoing darkness. \\\"Your brother can be most persuasive.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Varys, you areas cold and slimy as a slug, has anyone ever told you? You did your best to kill me. Perhaps I ought to return the favor.\\\"\\n\\nThe eunuch sighed. \\\"The faithful dog is kicked, and no matter how the spider weaves, he is never loved. But if you slay me here, I fear for you, my lord. You may never find your way back to daylight.\\\" His eyes glittered in the shifting torchlight, dark and wet. \\\"These tunnels are full of traps for the unwary.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion snorted. \\\"Unwary? I'm the wariest man whoever lived, you helped see to that.\\\" He rubbed at his nose. \\\"So tell me, wizard, where is my innocent maiden wife?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have found no trace of Lady Sansa in King's Landing, sad to say. Nor of Ser Dontos Hollard, who by rights should have turned up somewhere drunk by now. They were seen together on the serpentine steps the night she vanished. After that, nothing. There was much confusion that night. My little birds are silent.\\\" Varys gave a gentle tug at the dwarf's sleeve and pulled him into the stair. \\\"My lord, we must away. Your path is down.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"That's no lie, at least. Tyrion waddled along in the eunuch's wake, his heels scraping against the rough stone as they descended. It was very cold within the stairwell, a damp bone-chilling cold that set him to shivering at once. \\\"What part of the dungeons are these?\\\" he asked.\\n\\n\\\"Maegor the Cruel decreed four levels of dungeons for his castle,\\\" Varys replied. \\\"On the upper level, there are large cells where common criminals maybe confined together. They have narrow windows set high in the walls. The second level has the smaller cells where highborn captives are held. They have no windows, but torches in the halls cast light through the bars. On the third level the cells are smaller and the doors are wood. The black cells, men call them. That was where you were kept, and Eddard Stark before you. But there is a level lower still. Once a man is taken down to the fourth level, he never sees the sun again, nor hears a human voice, nor breathes a breath free of agonizing pain. Maegor had the cells on the fourth level built for torment.\\\" They had reached the bottom of the steps. An unlighted door opened before them. \\\"This is the fourth level. Give me your hand, my lord. It is safer to walk in darkness here. There are things you would not wish to see.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion hung back a moment. Varys had already betrayed him once. Who knew what game the eunuch was playing? And what better place to murder a man than down in the darkness, in a place that no one knew existed? His body might never be found.\\n\\nOn the other hand, what choice did he have? Togo backup the steps and walkout the main gate? No, that would not serve.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jaime would not be afraid, he thought, before he remembered what Jaime had done to him. He took the eunuch by the hand and let himself be led through the black, following the soft scrape of leather on stone. Varys walked quickly, from time to time whispering, \\\"Careful, there are three steps ahead,\\\" or, \\\"The tunnel slopes downward here, my lord.\\\" I arrived here a King's Hand, riding through the gates at the head of my own sworn men, Tyrion reflected, and I leave like a rat scuttling through the dark, holding hands with a spider.\\n\\nAlight appeared ahead of them, too dim to be daylight, and grew as they hurried toward it. After awhile he could see it was an arched doorway, closed off by another iron gate. Varys produced a key. They stepped through into a small round chamber. Five other doors opened off the room, each barred in iron. There was an opening in the ceiling as well, and a series of rungs set in the wall below, leading upward. An ornate brazier stood to one side, fashioned in the shape of a dragon's head. The coals in the beast's yawning mouth had burnt down to embers, but they still glowed with a sullen orange light. Dim as it was, the light was welcome after the blackness of the tunnel.\\n\\nThe juncture was otherwise empty, but on the floor was a mosaic of a three-headed dragon wrought in red and black tiles. Something niggled at Tyrion fora moment. Then it came to him. This is the place Shae told me of, when Varys first led her to my bed. \\\"We are below the Tower of the Hand.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\" Frozen hinges screamed in protest as Varys pulled open along-closed door. Flakes of rust drifted to the floor. \\\"This will take us out to the river.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tyrion walked slowly to the ladder, ran his hand across the lowest rung. \\\"This will take me up to my bedchamber.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your lord father's bedchamber now.\\\"\\n\\nHe looked up the shaft. \\\"How far must I climb?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My lord, you are too weak for such follies, and there is besides no time. We must go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have business above. How far?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Two hundred and thirty rungs, but whatever you intend-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Two hundred and thirty rungs, and then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The tunnel to the left, but hear me-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How far along to the bedchamber?\\\" Tyrion lifted afoot to the lowest rung of the ladder.\\n\\n\\\"No more than sixty feet. Keep one hand on the wall as you go. You will feel the doors. The bedchamber is the third.\\\" He sighed. \\\"This is folly, my lord. Your brother has given you your life back. Would you cast it away, and mine with it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Varys, the only thing I valueless than my life just now is yours. Wait for me here.\\\" He turned his back on the eunuch and began to climb, counting silently as he went.\\n\\nRung by rung, he ascended into darkness. At first he could seethe dim outline of each rung as he grasped it, and the rough grey texture of the stone behind, but as he climbed the black grew thicker. Thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen. By thirty, his arms trembled with the strain of pulling. He paused a moment to catch his breath and glanced down. A circle of faint light shone far below, half obscured by his own feet. Tyrion resumed his ascent. Thirty-nine forty forty-one. By fifty, his legs burned. The ladder was endless, numbing. Sixty-eight sixty-nine seventy. By eighty, his back was a dull agony. Yet still he climbed. He could not have said why. One thirteen one fourteen one fifteen.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"At two hundred and thirty, the shaft was black as pitch, but he could feel the warm air flowing from the tunnel to his left, like the breath of some great beast.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He poked about awkwardly with afoot and edged off the ladder. The tunnel was even more cramped than the shaft. Any man of normal size would have had to crawl on hands and knees, but Tyrion was short enough to walk upright. At last, a place made for dwarfs. His boots scuffed softly against the stone. He walked slowly, counting steps, feeling for gaps in the walls. Soon he began to hear voices, muffled and indistinct at first, then clearer. He listened more closely. Two of his father's guardsmen were joking about the Imp's whore, saying how sweet it would be to fuck her, and how bad she must want areal cock in place of the dwarf's stunted little thing. \\\"Most like it's got a crook in it,\\\" said Lum. That led him into a discussion of how Tyrion would die on the morrow. \\\"He'll weep like a woman and beg for mercy, you'll see,\\\" Lum insisted. Lester figured he'd face the axe brave as a lion, being a Lannister, and he was willing to bet his new boots on it. \\\"Ah, shit in your boots,\\\" said Lum, \\\"you know they'd never fit these feet o'mine. Tell you what, if I win you can scour my bloody mail fora fortnight.\\\"\\n\\nFor the space of a few feet, Tyrion could hear every word of their haggling, but when he moved on, the voices faded quickly. Small wonder Varys did not want me to climb the bloody ladder, Tyrion thought, smiling in the dark. Little birds indeed.\\n\\nHe came to the third door and fumbled about fora longtime before his fingers brushed a small iron hook set between two stones. When he pulled down on it, there was a soft rumble that sounded loud as an avalanche in the stillness, and a square of dull orange light opened afoot to his left.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The hearth! He almost laughed. The fireplace was full of hot ash, and a black log with a hot orange heart burning within. He edged past gingerly, taking quicksteps so as not to burn his boots, the warm cinders crunching softly under his heels. When he found himself in what had once been his bedchamber, he stood along moment, breathing the silence. Had his father heard? Would he reach for his sword, raise the hue and cry?\\n\\n\\\"M'lord?\\\" a woman's voice called.\\n\\nThat might have hurt me once, when I still felt pain. The first step was the hardest. When he reached the bed Tyrion pulled the draperies aside and there she was, turning toward him with a sleepy smile on her lips. It died when she saw him. She pulled the blankets up to her chin, as if that would protect her.\\n\\n\\\"Were you expecting someone taller, sweetling?\\\"\\n\\nBig wet tears filled her eyes. \\\"I never meant those things I said, the queen made me. Please. Your father frightens me so.\\\" She sat up, letting the blanket slide down to her lap. Beneath it she was naked, but for the chain about her throat. A chain of linked golden hands, each holding the next.\\n\\n\\\"My lady Shae,\\\" Tyrion said softly. \\\"All the time I satin the black cell waiting to die, I kept remembering how beautiful you were. In silk or roughspun or nothing at all...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"M'lord will be back soon. You should go, or... did you come to take me away?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did you ever like it?\\\" He cupped her cheek, remembering all the times he had done this before. All the times he'd slid his hands around her waist, squeezed her small firm breasts, stroked her short dark hair, touched her lips, her cheeks, her ears. All the times he had opened her with a finger to probe her secret sweetness and make her moan. \\\"Did you ever like my touch?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"More than anything,\\\" she said, \\\"my giant of Lannister.\\\"\\n\\nThat was the worst thing you could have said, sweetling.\\n\\nTyrion slid a hand under his father's chain, and twisted. The links tightened, digging into her neck. \\\"For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm,\\\" he said. He gave cold hands another twist as the warm ones beat away his tears.\\n\\nAfterward he found Lord Tywin's dagger on the bedside table and shoved it through his belt. A lion-headed mace, a poleaxe, and a crossbow had been hung on the walls. The poleaxe would be clumsy to wield inside a castle, and the mace was too high to reach, but a large wood-and-iron chest had been placed against the wall directly under the crossbow. He climbed up, pulled down the bow and a leather quiver packed with quarrels, jammed afoot into the stirrup, and pushed down until the bowstring cocked. Then he slipped a bolt into the notch.\\n\\nJaime had lectured him more than once on the drawbacks of crossbows. If Lum and Lester emerged from wherever they were talking, he'd never have time to reload, but at least he'd take one down to hell with him. Lum, if he had a choice. You'll have to clean your own mail, Lum. You lose.\\n\\nWaddling to the door, he listened a moment, then eased it open slowly. A lamp burned in a stone niche, casting wan yellow light over the empty hallway. Only the flame was moving. Tyrion slid out, holding the crossbow down against his leg.\\n\\nHe found his father where he knew he'd find him, seated in the dimness of the privy tower, bedrobe hiked up around his hips. At the sound of steps, Lord Tywin raised his eyes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tyrion gave him a mocking half bow. \\\"My lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tyrion.\\\" If he was afraid, Tywin Lannister gave no hint of it. \\\"Who released you from your cell?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'd love to tell you, but I swore a holy oath.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The eunuch,\\\" his father decided. \\\"I'll have his head for this. Is that my crossbow? Put it down.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Will you punish me if I refuse, Father?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This escape is folly. You are not to be killed, if that is what you fear. It's still my intent to send you to the Wall, but I could not do it without Lord Tyrell's consent. Put down the crossbow and we will go back to my chambers and talk of it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We can talk here just as well. Perhaps I don't choose to go to the Wall, Father. It's bloody cold up there, and I believe I've had enough coldness from you. So just tell me something, and I'll be on my way. One simple question, you owe me that much.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I owe you nothing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You've given me less than that, all my life, but you'll give me this. What did you do with Tysha?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tysha?\\\"\\n\\nHe does not even remember her name. \\\"The girl I married.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, yes. Your first whore.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion took aim at his father's chest. \\\"The next time you say that word, I'll kill you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You do not have the courage.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Shall we find out? It's a short word, and it seems to come so easily to your lips.\\\" Tyrion gestured impatiently with the bow. \\\"Tysha. What did you do with her, after my little lesson?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I don't recall.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Try harder. Did you have her killed?\\\"\\n\\nHis father pursed his lips. \\\"There was no reason for that, she'd learned her place... and had been well paid for her day's work, I seem to recall. I suppose the steward sent heron her way. I never thought to inquire.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"On her way where?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Wherever whores go.\\\"\\n\\nTyrion's finger clenched. The crossbow whanged just as Lord Tywin started to rise. The bolt slammed into him above the groin and he sat back down with a grunt. The quarrel had sunk deep, right to the fletching. Blood seeped out around the shaft, dripping down into his pubic hair and over his bare thighs. \\\"You shot me,\\\" he said incredulously, his eyes glassy with shock.\\n\\n\\\"You always were quick to grasp a situation, my lord,\\\" Tyrion said. \\\"That must be why you're the Hand of the King.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You... you are no... no son of mine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now that's where you're wrong, Father. Why, I believe I'm you writ small. Dome a kindness now, and die quickly. I have a ship to catch.\\\"\\n\\nFor once, his father did what Tyrion asked him. The proof was the sudden stench, as his bowels loosened in the moment of death. Well, he was in the right place for it, Tyrion thought. But the stink that filled the privy gave ample evidence that the oft-repeated jape about his father was just another lie.\\n\\nLord Tywin Lannister did not, in the end, shit gold.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"SAMWELL\\n\\nThe king was angry. Sam saw that at once.\\n\\nAs the black brothers entered one by one and knelt before him, Stannis shoved away his breakfast of hardbread, salt beef, and boiled eggs, and eyed them coldly. Beside him, the red woman Melisandre looked as if she found the scene amusing.\\n\\nI have no place here, Sam thought anxiously, when her red eyes fell upon him. Someone had to help Maester Aemon up the steps. Don't look at me, I'm just the maester's steward. The others were contenders for the Old Bear's command, all but Bowen Marsh, who had withdrawn from the contest but remained castellan and Lord Steward. Sam did not understand why Melisandre should seem so interested in him.\\n\\nKing Stannis kept the black brothers on their knees for an extraordinarily longtime. \\\"Rise,\\\" he said at last. Sam gave Maester Aemon his shoulder to help him backup.\\n\\nThe sound of Lord Janos Slynt clearing his throat broke the strained silence. \\\"Your Grace, let me say how pleased we are to be summoned here. When I saw your banners from the Wall, I knew the realm was saved. \\\"There comes a man who ne'er forgets his duty, \\\"I said to good Ser Alliser.\\\"A strongman, and a true king. ' May I congratulate you on your victory over the savages? The singers will make much of it, I know-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The singers may do as they like,\\\" Stannis snapped. \\\"Spare me your fawning, Janos, it will not serve you.\\\" He rose to his feet and frowned at them all. \\\"Lady Melisandre tells me that you have not yet chosen a Lord Commander. I am displeased. How much longer must this folly last?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Sire,\\\" said Bowen Marsh in a defensive tone, \\\"no one has achieved two-thirds of the vote yet. It has only been ten days.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nine days too long. I have captives to dispose of, a realm to order, a war to fight. Choices must be made, decisions that involve the Wall and the Night's Watch. By rights your Lord Commander should have a voice in those decisions.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He should, yes,\\\" said Janos Slynt. \\\"But it must be said. We brothers are only simple soldiers. Soldiers, yes! And Your Grace will know that soldiers are most comfortable taking orders. They would benefit from your royal guidance, it seems tome. For the good of the realm. To help them choose wisely.\\\"\\n\\nThe suggestion outraged some of the others. \\\"Do you want the king to wipe our arses for us too?\\\" said Cotter Pyke angrily. \\\"The choice of a Lord Commander belongs to the Sworn Brothers, and to them alone,\\\" insisted Ser Denys Mallister. \\\"If they choose wisely they won't be choosing me,\\\" moaned Dolorous Edd. Maester Aemon, calm as always, said, \\\"Your Grace, the Night's Watch has been choosing its own leader since Brandon the Builder raised the Wall. Through Jeor Mormont we have had nine hundred and ninety-seven Lords Commander in unbroken succession, each chosen by the men he would lead, a tradition many thousands of years old.\\\"\\n\\nStannis ground his teeth. \\\"It is not my wish to tamper with your rights and traditions. As to royal guidance, Janos, if you mean that I ought to tell your brothers to choose you, have the courage to say so.\\\"\\n\\nThat took Lord Janos aback. He smiled uncertainly and began to sweat, but Bowen Marsh beside him said, \\\"Who better to command the black cloaks than a man who once commanded the gold, sire?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Any of you, I would think. Even the cook.\\\" The look the king gave Slynt was cold. \\\"Janos was hardly the first gold cloak ever to take a bribe, I grant you, but he may have been the first commander to fatten his purse by selling places and promotions. By the end he must have had half the officers in the City Watch paying him part of their wages. Isn't that so, Janos?\\\"\\n\\nSlynt's neck was purpling. \\\"Lies, all lies! A strongman makes enemies, Your Grace knows that, they whisper lies behind your back. Naught was ever proven, not a man came forward...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Two men who were prepared to come forward died suddenly on their rounds.\\\" Stannis narrowed his eyes. \\\"Do not trifle with me, my lord. I saw the proof Jon Arryn laid before the small council. If I had been king you would have lost more than your office, I promise you, but Robert shrugged away your little lapses. \\\"They all steal,\\\" I recall him saying. \\\"Better a thief we know than one we don't, the next man might be worse. \\\"Lord Petyr's words in my brother's mouth, I'll warrant. Littlefinger had a nose for gold, and I'm certain he arranged matters so the crown profited as much from your corruption as you did yourself.\\\"\\n\\nLord Slynt's jowls were quivering, but before he could frame a further protest Maester Aemon said, \\\"Your Grace, bylaw a man's past crimes and transgressions are wiped clean when he says his words and becomes a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am aware of that. If it happens that Lord Janos here is the best the Night's Watch can offer, I shall grit my teeth and choke him down. It is naught tome which man of you is chosen, so long as you make a choice. We have a war to fight.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your Grace,\\\" said Ser Denys Mallister, intones of wary courtesy. \\\"If you are speaking of the wildlings...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am not. And you know that, ser.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And you must know that whilst we are thankful for the aid you rendered us against Mance Rayder, we can offer you no help in your contest for the throne. The Night's Watch takes no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms. For eight thousand years-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know your history, Ser Denys,\\\" the king said brusquely. \\\"I give you my word, I shall not ask you to lift your swords against any of the rebels and usurpers who plague me. I do expect that you will continue to defend the Wall as you always have.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We'll defend the Wall to the last man,\\\" said Cotter Pyke.\\n\\n\\\"Probably me,\\\" said Dolorous Edd, in a resigned tone.\\n\\nStannis crossed his arms. \\\"I shall require a few other things from you as well. Things that you may not be so quick to give. I want your castles. And I want the Gift.\\\"\\n\\nThose blunt words burst among the black brothers like a pot of wildfire tossed onto a brazier. Marsh, Mallister, and Pyke all tried to speak at once. King Stannis let them talk. When they were done, he said, \\\"I have three times the men you do. I can take the lands if I wish, but I would prefer to do this legally, with your consent.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Gift was given to the Night's Watch in perpetuity, Your Grace,\\\" Bowen Marsh insisted.\\n\\n\\\"Which means it cannot be lawfully seized, attained, or taken from you. But what was given once can be given again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What will you do with the Gift?\\\" demanded Cotter Pyke.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Make better use of it than you have. As to the castles, Eastwatch, Castle Black, and the Shadow Tower shall remain yours. Garrison them as you always have, but I must take the others for my garrisons if we are to hold the Wall.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You do not have the men,\\\" objected Bowen Marsh.\\n\\n\\\"Some of the abandoned castles are scarce more than ruins,\\\" said Othell Yarwyck, the First Builder.\\n\\n\\\"Ruins can be rebuilt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rebuilt?\\\" Yarwyck said. \\\"But who will do the work?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That is my concern. I shall require a list from you, detailing the present state of every castle and what might be required to restore it. I mean to have them all garrisoned again within the year, and nightfires burning before their gates.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nightfires?\\\" Bowen Marsh gave Melisandre an uncertain look. \\\"We're to light nightfires now?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are.\\\" The woman rose in a swirl of scarlet silk, her long copper-bright hair tumbling about her shoulders. \\\"Swords alone cannot hold this darkness back. Only the light of the Lord can do that. Make no mistake, good sers and valiant brothers, the war we've come to fight is no petty squabble over lands and honors. Ours is a war for life itself, and should we fail the world dies with us.\\\"\\n\\nThe officers did not know how to take that, Sam could see. Bowen Marsh and Othell Yarwyck exchanged a doubtful look, Janos Slynt was fuming, and Three-Finger Hobb looked as though he would sooner be back chopping carrots. But all of them seemed surprised to hear Maester Aemon murmur, \\\"It is the war for the dawn you speak of, my lady. But where is the prince that was promised?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He stands before you,\\\" Melisandre declared, \\\"though you do not have the eyes to see. Stannis Baratheon is Azor Ahai come again, the warrior of fire. In him the prophecies are fulfilled. The red comet blazed across the sky to herald his coming, and he bears Lightbringer, the red sword of heroes.\\\"\\n\\nHer words seemed to make the king desperately uncomfortable, Sam saw. Stannis ground his teeth, and said, \\\"You called and I came, my lords. Now you must live with me, or die with me. Best get used to that.\\\" He made a brusque gesture. \\\"That's all. Maester, stay a moment. And you, Tarly. The rest of you may go.\\\"\\n\\nMe? Sam thought, stricken, as his brothers were bowing and making their way out. What does he want with me?\\n\\n\\\"You are the one that killed the creature in the snow,\\\" King Stannis said, when only the four of them remained.\\n\\n\\\"Sam the Slayer.\\\" Melisandre smiled.\\n\\nSam felt his face turning red. \\\"No, my lady. Your Grace. I mean, I am, yes. I'm Samwell Tarly, yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your father is an able soldier,\\\" King Stannis said. \\\"He defeated my brother once, at Ashford. Mace Tyrell has been pleased to claim the honors for that victory, but Lord Randyll had decided matters before Tyrell ever found the battlefield. He slew Lord Cafferen with that great Valyrian sword of his and sent his head to Aerys.\\\" The king rubbed his jaw with a finger. \\\"You are not the sort of son I would expect such a man to have.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I... I am not the sort of son he wanted, sire.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"If you had not taken the black, you would make a useful hostage,\\\" Stannis mused.\\n\\n\\\"He has taken the black, sire,\\\" Maester Aemon pointed out.\\n\\n\\\"I am well aware of that,\\\" the king said. \\\"I am aware of more than you know, Aemon Targaryen.\\\"\\n\\nThe old man inclined his head. \\\"I am only Aemon, sire. We give up our House names when we forge our maester's chains.\\\"\\n\\nThe king gave that a curt nod, as if to say he knew and did not care. \\\"You slew this creature with an obsidian dagger, I am told,\\\" he said to Sam.\\n\\n\\\"Y-yes, Your Grace. Jon Snow gave it tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Dragonglass.\\\" The red woman's laugh was music. \\\"Frozen fire, in the tongue of old Valyria. Small wonder it is anathema to these cold children of the Other.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"On Dragonstone, where I had my seat, there is much of this obsidian to be seen in the old tunnels beneath the mountain,\\\" the king told Sam. \\\"Chunks of it, boulders, ledges. The great part of it was black, as I recall, but there was some green as well, some red, even purple. I have sent word to Ser Rolland my castellan to begin mining it. I will not hold Dragonstone for very much longer, I fear, but perhaps the Lord of Light shall grant us enough frozen fire to arm ourselves against these creatures, before the castle falls.\\\"\\n\\nSam cleared his throat. \\\"S-sire. The dagger... the dragonglass only shattered when I tried to stab a wight.\\\"\\n\\nMelisandre smiled. \\\"Necromancy animates these wights, yet they are still only dead flesh. Steel and fire will serve for them. The ones you call the Others are something more.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Demons made of snow and ice and cold,\\\" said Stannis Baratheon.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The ancient enemy. The only enemy that matters.\\\" He considered Sam again. \\\"I am told that you and this wildling girl passed beneath the Wall, through some magic gate.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The B-black Gate,\\\" Sam stammered. \\\"Below the Nightfort.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Nightfort is the largest and oldest of the castles on the Wall,\\\" the king said. \\\"That is where I intend to make my seat, whilst I fight this war. You will show me this gate.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I,\\\" said Sam, \\\"I w-will, if...\\\" If it is still there. If it will open fora man not of the black. If...\\n\\n\\\"You will,\\\" snapped Stannis. \\\"I shall tell you when.\\\"\\n\\nMaester Aemon smiled. \\\"Your Grace,\\\" he said, \\\"before we go, I wonder if you would do us the great honor of showing us this wondrous blade we have all heard so very much of.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You want to see Lightbringer? A blind man?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sam shall be my eyes.\\\"\\n\\nThe king frowned. \\\"Everyone else has seen the thing, why not a blind man?\\\" His swordbelt and scabbard hung from a peg near the hearth. He took the belt down and drew the longsword out. Steel scraped against wood and leather, and radiance filled the solar; shimmering, shifting, a dance of gold and orange and red light, all the bright colors of fire.\\n\\n\\\"Tell me, Samwell.\\\" Maester Aemon touched his arm.\\n\\n\\\"It glows,\\\" said Sam, in a hushed voice. \\\"As if it were on fire. There are no flames, but the steel is yellow and red and orange, all flashing and glimmering, like sunshine on water, but prettier. I wish you could see it, Maester.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I see it now, Sam. A sword full of sunlight. So lovely to behold.\\\" The old man bowed stiffly. \\\"Your Grace. My lady. This was most kind of you.\\\"\\n\\nWhen King Stannis sheathed the shining sword, the room seemed to grow very dark, despite the sunlight streaming through the window. \\\"Very well, you've seen it. You may return to your duties now. And remember what I said. Your brothers will chose a Lord Commander tonight, or I shall make them wish they had.\\\"\\n\\nMaester Aemon was lost in thought as Sam helped him down the narrow turnpike stair. But as they were crossing the yard, he said, \\\"I felt no heat. Did you, Sam?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Heat? From the sword?\\\" He thought back. \\\"The air around it was shimmering, the way it does above a hot brazier.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yet you felt no heat, did you? And the scabbard that held this sword, it is wood and leather, yes? I heard the sound when His Grace drew out the blade. Was the leather scorched, Sam? Did the wood seem burnt or blackened?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Sam admitted. \\\"Not that I could see.\\\"\\n\\nMaester Aemon nodded. Back in his own chambers, he asked Sam to set afire and help him to his chair beside the hearth. \\\"It is hard to be so old,\\\" he sighed as he settled onto the cushion. \\\"And harder still to be so blind. I miss the sun. And books. I miss books most of all.\\\" Aemon waved a hand. \\\"I shall have no more need of you till the choosing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The choosing... Maester, isn't there something you could do? What the king said of Lord Janos...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I recall,\\\" Maester Aemon said, \\\"but Sam, I am a maester, chained and sworn. My duty is to counsel the Lord Commander, whoever he might be. It would not be proper for me to be seen to favor one contender over another.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm not a maester,\\\" said Sam. \\\"Could I do something?\\\"\\n\\nAemon turned his blind white eyes toward Sam's face, and smiled softy. \\\"Why, I don't know, Samwell. Could you?\\\"\\n\\nI could, Sam thought. I have to. He had to do it right away, too. If he hesitated he was certain to lose his courage. I am a man of the Night's Watch, he reminded himself as he hurried across the yard. I am. I can do this. There had been a time when he had quaked and squeaked if Lord Mormont so much as looked at him, but that was the old Sam, before the Fist of the First Men and Craster's Keep, before the wights and Coldhands and the Other on his dead horse. He was braver now. Gilly made me braver, he'd told Jon. It was true. It had to be true.\\n\\nCotter Pyke was the scarier of the two commanders, so Sam went to him first, while his courage was still hot. He found him in the old Shieldhall, dicing with three of his Eastwatch men and a red-headed sergeant who had come from Dragonstone with Stannis.\\n\\nWhen Sam begged leave to speak with him, though, Pyke barked an order, and the others took the dice and coins and left them.\\n\\nNo man would ever call Cotter Pyke handsome, though the body under his studded brigantine and roughspun breeches was lean and hard and wiry strong. His eyes were small and close-set, his nose broken, his widow's peak as sharply pointed as the head of a spear. The pox had ravaged his face badly, and the beard he'd grown to hide the scars was thin and scraggly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Sam the Slayer!\\\" he said, byway of greeting. \\\"Are you sure you stabbed an Other, and not some child's snow knight?\\\"\\n\\nThis isn't starting well. \\\"It was the dragonglass that killed it, my lord,\\\" Sam explained feebly.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, no doubt. Well, outwith it, Slayer. Did the maester send you tome?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The maester?\\\" Sam swallowed. \\\"I... I just left him, my lord.\\\" That wasn't truly a lie, but if Pyke chose to read it wrong, it might make him more inclined to listen. Sam took a deep breath and launched into his plea.\\n\\nPyke cut him off before he'd said twenty words. \\\"You want me to kneel down and kiss the hem of Mallister's pretty cloak, is that it? I might have known. You lordlings all flock like sheep. Well, tell Aemon that he's wasted your breath and my time. If anyone withdraws it should be Mallister. The man's too bloody old for the job, maybe you ought to go tell him that. We choose him, and we're like to be back herein a year, choosing someone else.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He's old,\\\" Sam agreed, \\\"but he's well ex-experienced.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At sitting in his tower and fussing over maps, maybe. What does he plan to do, write letters to the wights? He's a knight, well and good, but he's not a fighter, and I don't give a kettle of piss who he unhorsed in some fool tourney fifty years ago. The Halfhand fought all his battles, even an old blind man should see that. And we need a fighter more than ever with this bloody king on top of us. Today it's ruins and empty fields, well and good, but what will His Grace want come the morrow? You think Mallister has the belly to stand up to Stannis Baratheon and that red bitch?\\\" He laughed. \\\"I don't.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You won't support him, then?\\\" said Sam, dismayed.\\n\\n\\\"Are you Sam the Slayer or Deaf Dick? No, I won't support him.\\\" Pyke jabbed a finger at his face. \\\"Understand this, boy. I don't want the bloody job, and never did. I fight best with a deck beneath me, not a horse, and Castle Black is too far from the sea. But I'll be buggered with a red-hot sword before I turn the Night's Watch over to that preening eagle from the Shadow Tower. And you can run back to the old man and tell him I said so, if he asks.\\\" He stood. \\\"Get out of my sight.\\\"\\n\\nIt took all the courage Sam had left in him to say, \\\"W-what if there was someone else? Could yous-support someone else?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who? Bowen Marsh? The man counts spoons. Othell's a follower, does what he's told and does it well, but no more'n that. Slynt... well, his men like him, I'll grant you, and it would almost be worth it to stick him down the royal craw and see if Stannis gagged, but no. There's too much of King's Landing in that one. A toad grows wings and thinks he's a bloody dragon.\\\" Pyke laughed. \\\"Who does that leave, Hobb? We could pick him, I suppose, only then who's going to boil your mutton, Slayer? You look like a man who likes his bloody mutton.\\\"\\n\\nThere was nothing more to say. Defeated, Sam could only stammer out his thanks and take his leave. I will do better with Ser Denys, he tried to tell himself as he walked through the castle. Ser Denys was a knight, highborn and well-spoken, and he had treated Sam most courteously when he'd found him and Gilly on the road. Ser Denys will listen tome, he has to.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The commander of the Shadow Tower had been born beneath the Booming Tower of Seagard, and looked every inch a Mallister. Sable trimmed his collar and accented the sleeves of his black velvet doublet. A silver eagle fastened its claws in the gathered folds of his cloak. His beard was white as snow, his hair was largely gone, and his face was deeply lined, it was true. Yet he still had grace in his movements and teeth in his mouth, and the years had dimmed neither his blue-grey eyes nor his courtesy.\\n\\n\\\"My lord of Tarly,\\\" he said, when his steward brought Sam to him in the Lance, where the Shadow Tower men were staying. \\\"I am pleased to see that you've recovered from your ordeal. Might I offer you a cup of wine? Your lady mother is a Florent, I recall. One day I must tell you about the time I unhorsed both of your grandfathers in the same tourney. Not today, though, I know we have more pressing concerns. You come from Maester Aemon, to be sure. Does he have counsel to offer me?\\\"\\n\\nSam took a sip of wine, and chose his words with care. \\\"A maester chained and sworn... it would not be proper for him to be seen as having influenced the choice of Lord Commander...\\\"\\n\\nThe old knight smiled. \\\"Which is why he has not come tome himself. Yes, I quite understand, Samwell. Aemon and I are both old men, and wise in such matters. Say what you came to say.\\\"\\n\\nThe wine was sweet, and Ser Denys listened to Sam's plea with grave courtesy, unlike Cotter Pyke. But when he was done, the old knight shook his head. \\\"I agree that it would be a dark day in our history if a king were to name our Lord Commander. This king especially. He is not like to keep his crown for long. But truly, Samwell, it ought to be Pyke who withdraws. I have more support than he does, and I am better suited to the office.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You are,\\\" Sam agreed, \\\"but Cotter Pyke might serve. It's said he has oft proved himself in battle.\\\" He did not mean to offend Ser Denys by praising his rival, but how else could he convince him to withdraw?\\n\\n\\\"Many of my brothers have proved themselves in battle. It is not enough. Some matters cannot be settled with a battleaxe. Maester Aemon will understand that, though Cotter Pyke does not. The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch is a lord, first and foremost. He must be able to treat with other lords... and with kings as well. He must be a man worthy of respect.\\\" Ser Denys leaned forward. \\\"We are the sons of great lords, you and I. We know the importance of birth, blood, and that early training that can ne'er be replaced. I was a squire at twelve, a knight at eighteen, a champion at two-and-twenty. I have been the commander at the Shadow Tower for thirty-three years. Blood, birth, and training have fitted me to deal with kings. Pyke... well, did you hear him this morning, asking if His Grace would wipe his bottom? Samwell, it is not my habit to speak unkindly of my brothers, but let us be frank... the ironborn area race of pirates and thieves, and Cotter Pyke was raping and murdering when he was still half a boy. Maester Harmune reads and writes his letters, and has for years. No, loath as I am to disappoint Maester Aemon, I could not in honor stand aside for Pyke of Eastwatch.\\\"\\n\\nThis time Sam was ready. \\\"Might you for someone else? If it was someone more suitable?\\\"\\n\\nSer Denys considered a moment. \\\"I have never desired the honor for its own sake. At the last choosing, I stepped aside gratefully when Lord Mormont's name was offered, just as I had for Lord Qorgyle at the choosing before that. So long as the Night's Watch remains in good hands, I am content. But Bowen Marsh is not equal to the task, no more than Othell Yarwyck. And this so-called Lord of Harrenhal is a butcher's whelp unjumped by the Lannisters. Small wonder he is venal and corrupt.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There's another man,\\\" Sam blurted out. \\\"Lord Commander Mormont trusted him. So did Donal Noye and Qhorin Halfhand. Though he's not as highly born as you, he comes from old blood. He was castle-born and castle-raised, and he learned sword and lance from a knight and letters from a maester of the Citadel. His father was a lord, and his brother a king.\\\"\\n\\nSer Denys stroked his long white beard. \\\"Mayhaps,\\\" he said, after along moment. \\\"He is very young, but... mayhaps. He might serve, I grant you, though I would be more suitable. I have no doubt of that. I would be the wiser choice.\\\"\\n\\nJon said there could be honor in a lie, if it were told for the right reason. Sam said, \\\"If we do not choose a Lord Commander tonight, King Stannis means to name Cotter Pyke. He said as much to Maester Aemon this morning, after all of you had left.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see.\\\" Ser Denys rose. \\\"I must think on this. Thank you, Samwell. And give my thanks to Maester Aemon as well.\\\"\\n\\nSam was trembling by the time he left the Lance. What have I done? he thought. What have I said? If they caught him in his lie, they would... what? Send me to the Wall? Rip my entrails out? Turn me into a wight? Suddenly it all seemed absurd. How could he be so frightened of Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister, when he had seen a raven eating Small Paul's face?\\n\\nPyke was not pleased by his return. \\\"You again? Make it quick, you are starting to annoy me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I only need a moment more,\\\" Sam promised. \\\"You won't withdraw for Ser Denys, you said, but you might for someone else.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2291,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Aid the author, keep the plot going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 83"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Tears, tears, tears,\" she sobbed hysterically. \"No need for tears... but that's not what you said in King's Landing. You told me to put the tears in Jon's wine, and I did. For Robert, and for us! And I wrote Catelyn and told her the Lannisters had killed my lord husband, just as you said. That was so clever... you were always clever, I told Father that, I said Petyr's so clever, he'll rise high, he will, he will, and he's sweet and gentle and I have his little baby in my belly... Why did you kiss her? Why? We're together now, we're together after so long, so very long, why would you want to kiss herrrrrr?\"\n\n\"Lysa,\" Petyr sighed, \"after all the storms we've suffered, you should trust me better. I swear, I shall never leave your side again, for as long as we both shall live.\"\n\n\"Truly?\" she asked, weeping. \"Oh, truly?\"\n\n\"Truly. Now unhand the girl and come give me a kiss.\"\n\nLysa threw herself into Littlefinger's arms, sobbing. As they hugged, Sansa crawled from the Moon Door on hands and knees and wrapped her arms around the nearest pillar. She could feel her heart pounding. There was snow in her hair and her right shoe was missing. It must have fallen. She shuddered, and hugged the pillar tighter.\n\nLittlefinger let Lysa sob against his chest fora moment, then put his hands on her arms and kissed her lightly. \"My sweet silly jealous wife,\" he said, chuckling. \"I've only loved one woman, I promise you.\"\n\nLysa Arryn smiled tremulously. \"Only one? Oh, Petyr, do you swear it? Only one?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Only Cat.\" He gave her a short, sharp shove.\n\nLysa stumbled backward, her feet slipping on the wet marble. And then she was gone. She never screamed. For the longest time there was no sound but the wind.\n\nMarillion gasped, \"You... you...\"\n\nThe guards were shouting outside the door, pounding with the butts of their heavy spears. Lord Petyr pulled Sansa to her feet. \"You're not hurt?\" When she shook her head, he said, \"Runlet my guards in, then. Quick now, there's no time to lose. This singer's killed my lady wife.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"EPILOGUE\n\nThe road up to Oldstones went twice around the hill before reaching the summit. Overgrown and stony, it would have been slow going even in the best of times, and last night's snow had left it muddy as well. Snow in autumn in the riverlands, it's unnatural, Merrett thought gloomily. It had not been much of a snow, true; just enough to blanket the ground fora night. Most of it had started melting away as soon as the sun came up. Still, Merrett took it fora bad omen. Between rains, floods, fire, and war, they had lost two harvests and a good part of a third. An early winter would mean famine all across the riverlands. A great many people would go hungry, and some of them would starve. Merrett only hoped he wouldn't be one of them. I may, though. With my luck, I just may. I never did have any luck.\n\nBeneath the castle ruins, the lower slopes of the hill were so thickly forested that half a hundred outlaws could well have been lurking there. They could be watching me even now. Merrett glanced about, and saw nothing but gorse, bracken, thistle, sedge, and blackberry bushes between the pines and grey-green sentinels. Elsewhere skeletal elm and ash and scrub oaks choked the ground like weeds. He saw no outlaws, but that meant little. Outlaws were better at hiding than honest men.\n\nMerrett hated the woods, if truth be told, and he hated outlaws even more. \"Outlaws stole my life,\" he had been known to complain when in his cups. He was too often in his cups, his father said, often and loudly. Too true, he thought ruefully. You needed some sort of distinction in the Twins, else they were liable to forget you were alive, but a reputation as the biggest drinker in the castle had done little to enhance his prospects, he'd found. I once hoped to be the greatest knight whoever couched a lance. The gods took that away from me. Why shouldn't I have a cup of wine from time to time? It helps my headaches. Besides, my wife is a shrew, my father despises me, my children are worthless. What do I have to stay sober for?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He was sober now, though. Well, he'd had two horns of ale when he broke his fast, and a small cup of red when he set out, but that was just to keep his head from pounding. Merrett could feel the headache building behind his eyes, and he knew that if he gave it half a chance he would soon feel as if he had a thunderstorm raging between his ears. Sometimes his headaches got so bad that it even hurt too much to weep. Then all he could do was rest on his bed in a darkroom with a damp cloth over his eyes, and curse his luck and the nameless outlaw who had done this to him.\n\nJust thinking about it made him anxious. He could nowise afford a headache now. If I bring Petyr back home safely, all my luck will change. He had the gold, all he needed to do was climb to the top of Oldstones, meet the bloody outlaws in the ruined castle, and make the exchange. A simple ransom. Even he could not muck it up... unless he got a headache, one so bad that it left him unable to ride. He was supposed to beat the ruins by sunset, not weeping in a huddle at the side of the road. Merrett rubbed two fingers against his temple. Once more around the hill, and there I am. When the message had come in and he had stepped forward to offer to carry the ransom, his father had squinted down and said, \"You, Merrett?\" and started laughing through his nose, that hideous heh heh heh laugh of his. Merrett practically had to beg before they'd give him the bloody bag of gold.\n\nSomething moved in the underbrush along the side of the road. Merrett reined up hard and reached for his sword, but it was only a squirrel. \"Stupid,\" he told himself, shoving the sword back in its scabbard without ever having gotten it out. \"Outlaws don't have tails. Bloody hell, Merrett, get hold of yourself.\" His heart was thumping in his chest as if he were some green boy on his first campaign. As if this were the kingswood and it was the old Brotherhood I was going to face, not the lightning lord's sorry lot of brigands. Fora moment he was tempted to trot right back down the hill and find the nearest alehouse. That bag of gold would buy a lot of ale, enough for him to forget all about Petyr Pimple. Let them hang him, he brought this on himself. It's no more than he deserves, wandering off with some bloody camp follower like a stag in rut."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"His head had begun to pound; soft now, but he knew it would get worse. Merrett rubbed the bridge of his nose. He really had no right to think so ill of Petyr. I did the same myself when I was his age. In his case all it got him was a pox, but still, he shouldn't condemn. Whores did have charms, especially if you had a face like Petyr's. The poor lad had a wife, to be sure, but she was half the problem. Not only was she twice his age, but she was bedding his brother Walder too, if the talk was true. There was always lots of talk around the Twins, and only a little was ever true, but in this case Merrett believed it. Black Walder was a man who took what he wanted, even his brother's wife. He'd had Edwyn's wife too, that was common knowledge, Fair Walda had been known to slip into his bed from time to time, and some even said he'd known the seventh Lady Freya deal better than he should have. Small wonder he refused to marry. Why buy a cow when there were udders all around begging to be milked?\n\nCursing under his breath, Merrett jammed his heels into his horse's flanks and rode on up the hill. As tempting as it was to drink the gold away, he knew that if he didn't comeback with Petyr Pimple, he had as well not comeback at all.\n\nLord Walder would soon turn two-and-ninety. His ears had started to go, his eyes were almost gone, and his gout was so bad that he had to be carried everywhere. He could not possibly last much longer, all his sons agreed. And when he goes, everything will change, and not for the better. His father was querulous and stubborn, with an iron will and a wasp's tongue, but he did believe in taking care of his own. All of his own, even the ones who had displeased and disappointed him. Even the ones whose names he can't remember. Once he was gone, though..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When Ser Stevron had been heir, that was one thing. The old man had been grooming Stevron for sixty years, and had pounded it into his head that blood was blood. But Stevron had died whilst campaigning with the Young Wolf in the west-\"of waiting, no doubt,\" Lame Lothar had quipped when the raven brought them the news-and his sons and grandsons were a different sort of Frey. Stevron's son Ser Ryman stood to inherit now; a thick-witted, stubborn, greedy man. And after Ryman came his own sons, Edwyn and Black Walder, who were even worse. \"Fortunately,\" Lame Lothar once said, \"they hate each other even more than they hate us.\"\n\nMerrett wasn't certain that was fortunate at all, and for that matter Lothar himself might be more dangerous than either of them. Lord Walder had ordered the slaughter of the Starks at Roslin's wedding, but it had been Lame Lothar who had plotted it outwith Roose Bolton, all the way down to which songs would be played. Lothar was a very amusing fellow to get drunk with, but Merrett would never be so foolish as to turn his back on him. In the Twins, you learned early that only full blood siblings could be trusted, and them not very far.\n\nIt was like to be every son for himself when the old man died, and every daughter as well. The new Lord of the Crossing would doubtless keep on some of his uncles, nephews, and cousins at the Twins, the ones he happened to like or trust, or more likely the ones he thought would prove useful to him. The rest of us he'll shove out to fend for ourselves.\n\nThe prospect worried Merrett more than words could say. He would be forty in less than three years, too old to take up the life of a hedge knight... even if he'd been a knight, which as it happened he wasn't. He had no land, no wealth of his own. He owned the clothes on his back but not much else, not even the horse he was riding. He wasn't clever enough to be a maester, pious enough to be a septon, or savage enough to be a sellsword. The gods gave me no gift but birth, and they stinted me there. What good was it to be the son of a rich and powerful House if you were the ninth son? When you took grandsons and great-grandsons into account, Merrett stood a better chance of being chosen High Septon than he did of inheriting the Twins."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I have no luck, he thought bitterly. I have never had any bloody luck. He was a big man, broad around the chest and shoulders if only of middling height. In the last ten years he had grown soft and fleshy, he knew, but when he'd been younger Merrett had been almost as robust as Ser Hosteen, his eldest full brother, who was commonly regarded as the strongest of Lord Walder Frey's brood. As a boy he'd been packed off to Crakehall to serve his mother's family as a page. When old Lord Sumner had made him a squire, everyone had assumed he would be Ser Merrett in no more than a few years, but the outlaws of the Kingswood Brotherhood had pissed on those plans. While his fellow squire Jaime Lannister was covering himself in glory, Merrett had first caught the pox from a camp follower, then managed to get captured by a woman, the one called the White Fawn. Lord Sumner had ransomed him back from the outlaws, but in the very next fight he'd been felled by a blow from a mace that had broken his helm and left him insensible fora fortnight. Everyone gave him up for dead, they told him later.\n\nMerrett hadn't died, but his fighting days were done. Even the lightest blow to his head brought on blinding pain and reduced him to tears. Under these circumstances knighthood was out of the question, Lord Sumner told him, not unkindly. He was sent back to the Twins to face Lord Walder's poisonous disdain.\n\nAfter that, Merrett's luck had only grown worse. His father had managed to make a good marriage for him, somehow; hewed one of Lord Darry's daughters, back when the Darrys stood high in King Aerys's favor. But it seemed as if he no sooner had deflowered his bride than Aerys lost his throne. Unlike the Freys, the Darrys had been prominent Targaryen loyalists, which cost them half their lands, most of their wealth, and almost all their power. As for his lady wife, she found him a great disappointment from the first, and insisted on popping out nothing but girls for years; three live ones, a stillbirth, and one that died in infancy before she finally produced a son. His eldest daughter had turned out to be a slut, his second a glutton. When Ami was caught in the stables with no fewer than three grooms, he'd been forced to marry her off to a bloody hedge knight. That situation could not possibly get any worse, he'd thought... until Ser Pate decided he could win renown by defeating Ser Gregor Clegane. Ami had come running back a widow, to Merrett's dismay and the undoubted delight of every stablehand in the Twins."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Merrett had dared to hope that his luck was finally changing when Roose Bolton chose towed his Walda instead of one of her slimmer, comelier cousins. The Bolton alliance was important for House Frey and his daughter had helped secure it; he thought that must surely count for something. The old man had soon disabused him. \"He picked her because she's fat,\" Lord Walder said. \"You think Bolton gave a mummer's fart that she was your whelp? Think he sat about thinking, \"Heh, Merrett Muttonhead, that's the very man I need fora good-father\"? Your Walda's a sow in silk, that's why he picked her, and I'm not like to thank you for it. We'd have had the same alliance at half the price if your little porkling put down her spoon from time to time.\"\n\nThe final humiliation had been delivered with a smile, when Lame Lothar had summoned him to discuss his role in Roslin's wedding. \"We must each play our part, according to our gifts,\" his half-brother told him. \"You shall have one task and one task only, Merrett, but I believe you are well suited to it. I want you to see to it that Greatjon Umber is so bloody drunk that he can hardly stand, let alone fight.\"\n\nAnd even that I failed at. He'd cozened the huge northman into drinking enough wine to kill any three normal men, yet after Roslin had been bedded the Greatjon still managed to snatch the sword of the first man to accost him and break his arm in the snatching. It had taken eight of them to get him into chains, and the effort had left two men wounded, one dead, and poor old Ser Leslyn Haigh short half an ear. When he couldn't fight with his hands any longer, Umber had fought with his teeth."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Merrett paused a moment and closed his eyes. His head was throbbing like that bloody drum they'd played at the wedding, and fora moment it was all he could do to stay in the saddle. I have to goon, he told himself. If he could bring back Petyr Pimple, surely it would put him in Ser Ryman's good graces. Petyr might be a whisker on the hapless side, but he wasn't as cold as Edwyn, nor as hot as Black Walder. The boy will be grateful for my part, and his father will see that I'm loyal, a man worth having about.\n\nBut only if he was thereby sunset with the gold. Merrett glanced at the sky. Right on time. He needed something to steady his hands. He pulled up the waterskin hung from his saddle, uncorked it, and took along swallow. The wine was thick and sweet, so dark it was almost black, but gods it tasted good.\n\nThe curtain wall of Oldstones had once encircled the brow of the hill like the crown on a king's head. Only the foundation remained, and a few waist-high piles of crumbling stone spotted with lichen. Merrett rode along the line of the wall until he came to the place where the gatehouse would have stood. The ruins were more extensive here, and he had to dismount to lead his palfrey through them. In the west, the sun had vanished behind a bank of low clouds. Gorse and bracken covered the slopes, and once inside the vanished walls the weeds were chest high. Merrett loosened his sword in its scabbard and looked about warily, but saw no outlaws. Could I have come on the wrong day? He stopped and rubbed his temples with his thumbs, but that did nothing to ease the pressure behind his eyes. Seven bloody hells..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"From somewhere deep within the castle, faint music came drifting through the trees.\n\nMerrett found himself shivering, despite his cloak. He pulled open his waterskin and had another drink of wine. I could just get back on my horse, ride to Oldtown, and drink the gold away. No good ever came from dealing with outlaws. That vile little bitch Wenda had burned a fawn into the cheek of his arse while she had him captive. No wonder his wife despised him. I have to go through with this. Petyr Pimple might be Lord of the Crossing one day, Edwyn has no sons and Black Walder's only got bastards. Petyr will remember who came to get him. He took another swallow, corked the skin up, and led his palfrey through broken stones, gorse, and thin wind-whipped trees, following the sounds to what had been the castle ward.\n\nFallen leaves lay thick upon the ground, like soldiers after some great slaughter. A man in patched, faded greens was sitting crosslegged atop a weathered stone sepulcher, fingering the strings of a woodharp. The music was soft and sad. Merrett knew the song. High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts...\n\n\"Get off there,\" Merrett said. \"You're sitting on a king.\"\n\n\"Old Tristifer don't mind my bony arse. The Hammer of Justice, they called him. Been along while since he heard any new songs.\" The outlaw hopped down. Trim and slim, he had a narrow face and foxy features, but his mouth was so wide that his smile seemed to touch his ears. A few strands of thin brown hair were blowing across his brow. He pushed them back with his freehand and said, \"Do you remember me, my lord?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No.\" Merrett frowned. \"Why would I?\"\n\n\"I sang at your daughter's wedding. And passing well, I thought. That Pate she married was a cousin. We're all cousins in Sevenstreams. Didn't stop him from turning niggard when it was time to pay me.\" He shrugged. \"Why is it your lord father never has me play at the Twins? Don't I make enough noise for his lordship? He likes it loud, I have been hearing.\"\n\n\"You bring the gold?\" asked a harsher voice, behind him.\n\nMerrett's throat was dry. Bloody outlaws, always hiding in the bushes. It had been the same in the kingswood. you'd think you'd caught five of them, and ten more would spring from nowhere.\n\nWhen he turned, they were all around him; an ill-favored gaggle of leathery old men and smooth-cheeked lads younger than Petyr Pimple, the lot of them clad in roughspun rags, boiled leather, and bits of dead men's armor. There was one woman with them, bundled up in a hooded cloak three times too big for her. Merrett was too flustered to count them, but there seemed to be a dozen at the least, maybe a score.\n\n\"I asked a question.\" The speaker was a big bearded man with crooked green teeth and a broken nose; taller than Merrett, though not so heavy in the belly. A halfhelm covered his head, a patched yellow cloak his broad shoulders. \"Where's our gold?\"\n\n\"In my saddlebag. A hundred golden dragons.\" Merrett cleared his throat. \"You'll get it when I see that Petyr-\"\n\nA squat one-eyed outlaw strode forward before he could finish, reached into the saddlebag bold as you please, and found the sack. Merrett started to grab him, then thought better of it. The outlaw opened the drawstring, removed a coin, and bit it. \"Tastes right.\" He hefted the sack. \"Feels right too.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They're going to take the gold and keep Petyr too, Merrett thought in sudden panic. \"That's the whole ransom. All you asked for.\" His palms were sweating. He wiped them on his breeches. \"Which one of you is Beric Dondarrion?\" Dondarrion had been a lord before he turned outlaw, he might still be a man of honor.\n\n\"Why, that would be me,\" said the one-eyed man.\n\n\"You're a bloody liar, Jack,\" said the big bearded man in the yellow cloak. \"It's my turn to be Lord Beric.\"\n\n\"Does that mean I have to be Thoros?\" The singer laughed. \"My lord, sad to say, Lord Beric was needed elsewhere. The times are troubled, and there are many battles to fight. But we'll sort you out just as he would, have no fear.\"\n\nMerrett had plenty of fear. His head was pounding too. Much more of this and he'd be sobbing. \"You have your gold,\" he said. \"Give me my nephew, and I'll begone.\" Petyr was actually more a great half-nephew, but there was no need to go into that.\n\n\"He's in the godswood,\" said the man in the yellow cloak. \"We'll take you to him. Notch, you hold his horse.\"\n\nMerrett handed over the bridle reluctantly. He did not see what other choice he had. \"My water skin,\" he heard himself say. \"A swallow of wine, to settle my-\"\n\n\"We don't drink with your sort,\" yellow cloak said curtly. \"It's this way. Follow me.\"\n\nLeaves crunched beneath their heels, and every step sent a spike of pain through Merrett's temple. They walked in silence, the wind gusting around them. The last light of the setting sun was in his eyes as he clambered over the mossy hummocks that were all that remained of the keep. Behind was the godswood."},{"from":"human","value":"Petyr Pimple was hanging from the limb of an oak, a noose tight around his long thin neck."},{"from":"gpt","value":"His eyes bulged from a blackface, staring down at Merrett accusingly. You came too late, they seemed to say. But he hadn't. He hadn't! He had come when they told him. \"You killed him,\" he croaked.\n\n\"Sharp as a blade, this one,\" said the one-eyed man.\n\nAn aurochs was thundering through Merrett's head. Mother have mercy, he thought. \"I brought the gold.\"\n\n\"That was good of you,\" said the singer amiably. \"We'll see that it's put to good use.\"\n\nMerrett turned away from Petyr. He could taste the bile in the back of his throat. \"You... you had no right.\"\n\n\"We had a rope,\" said yellow cloak. \"That's right enough.\"\n\nTwo of the outlaws seized Merrett's arms and bound them tight behind his back. He was too deep in shock to struggle. \"No,\" was all he could manage. \"I only came to ransom Petyr. You said if you had the gold by sunset he wouldn't be harmed...\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the singer, \"you've got us there, my lord. That was a lie of sorts, as it happens.\"\n\nThe one-eyed outlaw came forward with along coil of hempen rope. He looped one end around Merrett's neck, pulled it tight, and tied a hard knot under his ear. The other end he threw over the limb of the oak. The big man in the yellow cloak caught it.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Merrett knew how stupid that sounded, but he could not believe what was happening, even then. \"You'd never dare hang a Frey.\"\n\nYellow cloak laughed. \"That other one, the pimply boy, he said the same thing.\""},{"from":"human","value":"He doesn't mean it."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He cannot mean it. \"My father will pay you. I'm worth a good ransom, more than Petyr, twice as much.\"\n\nThe singer sighed. \"Lord Walder might behalf-blind and gouty, but he's not so stupid as to snap at the same bait twice. Next time he'll send a hundred swords instead of a hundred dragons, I fear.\"\n\n\"He will!\" Merrett tried to sound stern, but his voice betrayed him. \"He'll send a thousand swords, and kill you all.\"\n\n\"He has to catch us first.\" The singer glanced up at poor Petyr. \"And he can't hang us twice, now can he?\" He drew a melancholy air from the strings of his woodharp. \"Here now, don't soil yourself. All you need to do is answer me a question, and I'll tell them to let you go.\"\n\nMerrett would tell them anything if it meant his life. \"What do you want to know? I'll tell you true, I swear it.\"\n\nThe outlaw gave him an encouraging smile. \"Well, as it happens, we're looking fora dog that ran away.\"\n\n\"A dog?\" Merrett was lost. \"What kind of dog?\"\n\n\"He answers to the name Sandor Clegane. Thoros says he was making for the Twins. We found the ferrymen who took him across the Trident, and the poor sod he robbed on the kingsroad. Did you see him at the wedding, perchance?\"\n\n\"The Red Wedding?\" Merrett's skull felt as if it were about to split, but he did his best to recall. There had been so much confusion, but surely someone would have mentioned Joffrey's dog sniffing round the Twins. \"He wasn't in the castle. Not at the main feast... he might have been at the bastard feast, or in the camps, but... no, someone would have said...\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"He would have had a child with him,\" said the singer."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"A skinny girl, about ten. Or perhaps a boy the same age.\"\n\n\"I don't think so,\" said Merrett. \"Not that I knew.\"\n\n\"No? Ah, that's a pity. Well, up you go.\"\n\n\"No,\" Merrett squealed loudly. \"No, don't, I gave you your answer, you said you'd let me go.\"\n\n\"Seems tome that what I said was I'd tell them to let you go.\" The singer looked at yellow cloak. \"Lem, let him go.\"\n\n\"Go bugger yourself,\" the big outlaw replied brusquely.\n\nThe singer gave Merrett a helpless shrug and began to play, \"The Day They Hanged Black Robin.\"\n\n\"Please.\" The last of Merrett's courage was running down his leg. \"I've done you no harm. I brought the gold, the way you said. I answered your question. I have children.\"\n\n\"That Young Wolf never will,\" said the one-eyed outlaw.\n\nMerrett could hardly think for the pounding in his head. \"He shamed us, the whole realm was laughing, we had to cleanse the stain on our honor.\" His father had said all that and more.\n\n\"Maybe so. What do a bunch o'bloody peasants know about a lord's honor?\" Yellow cloak wrapped the end of the rope around his hand three times. \"We know some about murder, though.\"\n\n\"Not murder.\" His voice was shrill. \"It was vengeance, we had aright to our vengeance. It was war. Aegon, we called him Jinglebell, a poor lackwit never hurt anyone, Lady Stark cut his throat. We lost half a hundred men in the camps. Ser Garse Goodbrook, Kyra's husband, and Ser Tytos, Jared's son... someone smashed his head in with an axe... Stark's direwolf killed four of our wolfhounds and tore the kennelmaster's arm off his shoulder, even after we'd filled him full of quarrels...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So you sewed his head on Robb Stark's neck after both o\" them were dead,\" said yellow cloak.\n\n\"My father did that. All I did was drink. You wouldn't kill a man for drinking.\" Merrett remembered something then, something that might be the saving of him. \"They say Lord Beric always gives a man atrial, that he won't kill a man unless something's proved against him. You can't prove anything against me. The Red Wedding was my father's work, and Ryman's and Lord Bolton's. Lothar rigged the tents to collapse and put the crossbowmen in the gallery with the musicians, Bastard Walder led the attack on the camps... they're the ones you want, not me, I only drank some wine... you have no witness.\"\n\n\"As it happens, you're wrong there.\" The singer turned to the hooded woman. \"Milady?\"\n\nThe outlaws parted as she came forward, saying no word. When she lowered her hood, something tightened inside Merrett's chest, and fora moment he could not breathe. No. No, I saw her die. She was dead fora day and night before they stripped her naked and threw her body in the river. Raymund opened her throat from ear to ear. She was dead.\n\nHer cloak and collar hid the gash his brother's blade had made, but her face was even worse than he remembered. The flesh had gone pudding soft in the water and turned the color of curdled milk. Half her hair was gone and the rest had turned as white and brittle as a crone's. Beneath her ravaged scalp, her face was shredded skin and black blood where she had raked herself with her nails. But her eyes were the most terrible thing. Her eyes saw him, and they hated."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"She don't speak,\" said the big man in the yellow cloak. \"You bloody bastards cut her throat too deep for that. But she remembers.\" He turned to the dead woman and said, \"What do you say, m'lady? Was he part of it?\"\n\nLady Catelyn's eyes never left him. She nodded.\n\nMerrett Frey opened his mouth to plead, but the noose choked off his words. His feet left the ground, the rope cutting deep into the soft flesh beneath his chin. Up into the air he jerked, kicking and twisting, up and up and up."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Aid the author, keep the plot going.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\\nChapter: 83\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Tears, tears, tears,\\\" she sobbed hysterically. \\\"No need for tears... but that's not what you said in King's Landing. You told me to put the tears in Jon's wine, and I did. For Robert, and for us! And I wrote Catelyn and told her the Lannisters had killed my lord husband, just as you said. That was so clever... you were always clever, I told Father that, I said Petyr's so clever, he'll rise high, he will, he will, and he's sweet and gentle and I have his little baby in my belly... Why did you kiss her? Why? We're together now, we're together after so long, so very long, why would you want to kiss herrrrrr?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lysa,\\\" Petyr sighed, \\\"after all the storms we've suffered, you should trust me better. I swear, I shall never leave your side again, for as long as we both shall live.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Truly?\\\" she asked, weeping. \\\"Oh, truly?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Truly. Now unhand the girl and come give me a kiss.\\\"\\n\\nLysa threw herself into Littlefinger's arms, sobbing. As they hugged, Sansa crawled from the Moon Door on hands and knees and wrapped her arms around the nearest pillar. She could feel her heart pounding. There was snow in her hair and her right shoe was missing. It must have fallen. She shuddered, and hugged the pillar tighter.\\n\\nLittlefinger let Lysa sob against his chest fora moment, then put his hands on her arms and kissed her lightly. \\\"My sweet silly jealous wife,\\\" he said, chuckling. \\\"I've only loved one woman, I promise you.\\\"\\n\\nLysa Arryn smiled tremulously. \\\"Only one? Oh, Petyr, do you swear it? Only one?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Only Cat.\\\" He gave her a short, sharp shove.\\n\\nLysa stumbled backward, her feet slipping on the wet marble. And then she was gone. She never screamed. For the longest time there was no sound but the wind.\\n\\nMarillion gasped, \\\"You... you...\\\"\\n\\nThe guards were shouting outside the door, pounding with the butts of their heavy spears. Lord Petyr pulled Sansa to her feet. \\\"You're not hurt?\\\" When she shook her head, he said, \\\"Runlet my guards in, then. Quick now, there's no time to lose. This singer's killed my lady wife.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"EPILOGUE\\n\\nThe road up to Oldstones went twice around the hill before reaching the summit. Overgrown and stony, it would have been slow going even in the best of times, and last night's snow had left it muddy as well. Snow in autumn in the riverlands, it's unnatural, Merrett thought gloomily. It had not been much of a snow, true; just enough to blanket the ground fora night. Most of it had started melting away as soon as the sun came up. Still, Merrett took it fora bad omen. Between rains, floods, fire, and war, they had lost two harvests and a good part of a third. An early winter would mean famine all across the riverlands. A great many people would go hungry, and some of them would starve. Merrett only hoped he wouldn't be one of them. I may, though. With my luck, I just may. I never did have any luck.\\n\\nBeneath the castle ruins, the lower slopes of the hill were so thickly forested that half a hundred outlaws could well have been lurking there. They could be watching me even now. Merrett glanced about, and saw nothing but gorse, bracken, thistle, sedge, and blackberry bushes between the pines and grey-green sentinels. Elsewhere skeletal elm and ash and scrub oaks choked the ground like weeds. He saw no outlaws, but that meant little. Outlaws were better at hiding than honest men.\\n\\nMerrett hated the woods, if truth be told, and he hated outlaws even more. \\\"Outlaws stole my life,\\\" he had been known to complain when in his cups. He was too often in his cups, his father said, often and loudly. Too true, he thought ruefully. You needed some sort of distinction in the Twins, else they were liable to forget you were alive, but a reputation as the biggest drinker in the castle had done little to enhance his prospects, he'd found. I once hoped to be the greatest knight whoever couched a lance. The gods took that away from me. Why shouldn't I have a cup of wine from time to time? It helps my headaches. Besides, my wife is a shrew, my father despises me, my children are worthless. What do I have to stay sober for?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He was sober now, though. Well, he'd had two horns of ale when he broke his fast, and a small cup of red when he set out, but that was just to keep his head from pounding. Merrett could feel the headache building behind his eyes, and he knew that if he gave it half a chance he would soon feel as if he had a thunderstorm raging between his ears. Sometimes his headaches got so bad that it even hurt too much to weep. Then all he could do was rest on his bed in a darkroom with a damp cloth over his eyes, and curse his luck and the nameless outlaw who had done this to him.\\n\\nJust thinking about it made him anxious. He could nowise afford a headache now. If I bring Petyr back home safely, all my luck will change. He had the gold, all he needed to do was climb to the top of Oldstones, meet the bloody outlaws in the ruined castle, and make the exchange. A simple ransom. Even he could not muck it up... unless he got a headache, one so bad that it left him unable to ride. He was supposed to beat the ruins by sunset, not weeping in a huddle at the side of the road. Merrett rubbed two fingers against his temple. Once more around the hill, and there I am. When the message had come in and he had stepped forward to offer to carry the ransom, his father had squinted down and said, \\\"You, Merrett?\\\" and started laughing through his nose, that hideous heh heh heh laugh of his. Merrett practically had to beg before they'd give him the bloody bag of gold.\\n\\nSomething moved in the underbrush along the side of the road. Merrett reined up hard and reached for his sword, but it was only a squirrel. \\\"Stupid,\\\" he told himself, shoving the sword back in its scabbard without ever having gotten it out. \\\"Outlaws don't have tails. Bloody hell, Merrett, get hold of yourself.\\\" His heart was thumping in his chest as if he were some green boy on his first campaign. As if this were the kingswood and it was the old Brotherhood I was going to face, not the lightning lord's sorry lot of brigands. Fora moment he was tempted to trot right back down the hill and find the nearest alehouse. That bag of gold would buy a lot of ale, enough for him to forget all about Petyr Pimple. Let them hang him, he brought this on himself. It's no more than he deserves, wandering off with some bloody camp follower like a stag in rut.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His head had begun to pound; soft now, but he knew it would get worse. Merrett rubbed the bridge of his nose. He really had no right to think so ill of Petyr. I did the same myself when I was his age. In his case all it got him was a pox, but still, he shouldn't condemn. Whores did have charms, especially if you had a face like Petyr's. The poor lad had a wife, to be sure, but she was half the problem. Not only was she twice his age, but she was bedding his brother Walder too, if the talk was true. There was always lots of talk around the Twins, and only a little was ever true, but in this case Merrett believed it. Black Walder was a man who took what he wanted, even his brother's wife. He'd had Edwyn's wife too, that was common knowledge, Fair Walda had been known to slip into his bed from time to time, and some even said he'd known the seventh Lady Freya deal better than he should have. Small wonder he refused to marry. Why buy a cow when there were udders all around begging to be milked?\\n\\nCursing under his breath, Merrett jammed his heels into his horse's flanks and rode on up the hill. As tempting as it was to drink the gold away, he knew that if he didn't comeback with Petyr Pimple, he had as well not comeback at all.\\n\\nLord Walder would soon turn two-and-ninety. His ears had started to go, his eyes were almost gone, and his gout was so bad that he had to be carried everywhere. He could not possibly last much longer, all his sons agreed. And when he goes, everything will change, and not for the better. His father was querulous and stubborn, with an iron will and a wasp's tongue, but he did believe in taking care of his own. All of his own, even the ones who had displeased and disappointed him. Even the ones whose names he can't remember. Once he was gone, though...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When Ser Stevron had been heir, that was one thing. The old man had been grooming Stevron for sixty years, and had pounded it into his head that blood was blood. But Stevron had died whilst campaigning with the Young Wolf in the west-\\\"of waiting, no doubt,\\\" Lame Lothar had quipped when the raven brought them the news-and his sons and grandsons were a different sort of Frey. Stevron's son Ser Ryman stood to inherit now; a thick-witted, stubborn, greedy man. And after Ryman came his own sons, Edwyn and Black Walder, who were even worse. \\\"Fortunately,\\\" Lame Lothar once said, \\\"they hate each other even more than they hate us.\\\"\\n\\nMerrett wasn't certain that was fortunate at all, and for that matter Lothar himself might be more dangerous than either of them. Lord Walder had ordered the slaughter of the Starks at Roslin's wedding, but it had been Lame Lothar who had plotted it outwith Roose Bolton, all the way down to which songs would be played. Lothar was a very amusing fellow to get drunk with, but Merrett would never be so foolish as to turn his back on him. In the Twins, you learned early that only full blood siblings could be trusted, and them not very far.\\n\\nIt was like to be every son for himself when the old man died, and every daughter as well. The new Lord of the Crossing would doubtless keep on some of his uncles, nephews, and cousins at the Twins, the ones he happened to like or trust, or more likely the ones he thought would prove useful to him. The rest of us he'll shove out to fend for ourselves.\\n\\nThe prospect worried Merrett more than words could say. He would be forty in less than three years, too old to take up the life of a hedge knight... even if he'd been a knight, which as it happened he wasn't. He had no land, no wealth of his own. He owned the clothes on his back but not much else, not even the horse he was riding. He wasn't clever enough to be a maester, pious enough to be a septon, or savage enough to be a sellsword. The gods gave me no gift but birth, and they stinted me there. What good was it to be the son of a rich and powerful House if you were the ninth son? When you took grandsons and great-grandsons into account, Merrett stood a better chance of being chosen High Septon than he did of inheriting the Twins.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I have no luck, he thought bitterly. I have never had any bloody luck. He was a big man, broad around the chest and shoulders if only of middling height. In the last ten years he had grown soft and fleshy, he knew, but when he'd been younger Merrett had been almost as robust as Ser Hosteen, his eldest full brother, who was commonly regarded as the strongest of Lord Walder Frey's brood. As a boy he'd been packed off to Crakehall to serve his mother's family as a page. When old Lord Sumner had made him a squire, everyone had assumed he would be Ser Merrett in no more than a few years, but the outlaws of the Kingswood Brotherhood had pissed on those plans. While his fellow squire Jaime Lannister was covering himself in glory, Merrett had first caught the pox from a camp follower, then managed to get captured by a woman, the one called the White Fawn. Lord Sumner had ransomed him back from the outlaws, but in the very next fight he'd been felled by a blow from a mace that had broken his helm and left him insensible fora fortnight. Everyone gave him up for dead, they told him later.\\n\\nMerrett hadn't died, but his fighting days were done. Even the lightest blow to his head brought on blinding pain and reduced him to tears. Under these circumstances knighthood was out of the question, Lord Sumner told him, not unkindly. He was sent back to the Twins to face Lord Walder's poisonous disdain.\\n\\nAfter that, Merrett's luck had only grown worse. His father had managed to make a good marriage for him, somehow; hewed one of Lord Darry's daughters, back when the Darrys stood high in King Aerys's favor. But it seemed as if he no sooner had deflowered his bride than Aerys lost his throne. Unlike the Freys, the Darrys had been prominent Targaryen loyalists, which cost them half their lands, most of their wealth, and almost all their power. As for his lady wife, she found him a great disappointment from the first, and insisted on popping out nothing but girls for years; three live ones, a stillbirth, and one that died in infancy before she finally produced a son. His eldest daughter had turned out to be a slut, his second a glutton. When Ami was caught in the stables with no fewer than three grooms, he'd been forced to marry her off to a bloody hedge knight. That situation could not possibly get any worse, he'd thought... until Ser Pate decided he could win renown by defeating Ser Gregor Clegane. Ami had come running back a widow, to Merrett's dismay and the undoubted delight of every stablehand in the Twins.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Merrett had dared to hope that his luck was finally changing when Roose Bolton chose towed his Walda instead of one of her slimmer, comelier cousins. The Bolton alliance was important for House Frey and his daughter had helped secure it; he thought that must surely count for something. The old man had soon disabused him. \\\"He picked her because she's fat,\\\" Lord Walder said. \\\"You think Bolton gave a mummer's fart that she was your whelp? Think he sat about thinking, \\\"Heh, Merrett Muttonhead, that's the very man I need fora good-father\\\"? Your Walda's a sow in silk, that's why he picked her, and I'm not like to thank you for it. We'd have had the same alliance at half the price if your little porkling put down her spoon from time to time.\\\"\\n\\nThe final humiliation had been delivered with a smile, when Lame Lothar had summoned him to discuss his role in Roslin's wedding. \\\"We must each play our part, according to our gifts,\\\" his half-brother told him. \\\"You shall have one task and one task only, Merrett, but I believe you are well suited to it. I want you to see to it that Greatjon Umber is so bloody drunk that he can hardly stand, let alone fight.\\\"\\n\\nAnd even that I failed at. He'd cozened the huge northman into drinking enough wine to kill any three normal men, yet after Roslin had been bedded the Greatjon still managed to snatch the sword of the first man to accost him and break his arm in the snatching. It had taken eight of them to get him into chains, and the effort had left two men wounded, one dead, and poor old Ser Leslyn Haigh short half an ear. When he couldn't fight with his hands any longer, Umber had fought with his teeth.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Merrett paused a moment and closed his eyes. His head was throbbing like that bloody drum they'd played at the wedding, and fora moment it was all he could do to stay in the saddle. I have to goon, he told himself. If he could bring back Petyr Pimple, surely it would put him in Ser Ryman's good graces. Petyr might be a whisker on the hapless side, but he wasn't as cold as Edwyn, nor as hot as Black Walder. The boy will be grateful for my part, and his father will see that I'm loyal, a man worth having about.\\n\\nBut only if he was thereby sunset with the gold. Merrett glanced at the sky. Right on time. He needed something to steady his hands. He pulled up the waterskin hung from his saddle, uncorked it, and took along swallow. The wine was thick and sweet, so dark it was almost black, but gods it tasted good.\\n\\nThe curtain wall of Oldstones had once encircled the brow of the hill like the crown on a king's head. Only the foundation remained, and a few waist-high piles of crumbling stone spotted with lichen. Merrett rode along the line of the wall until he came to the place where the gatehouse would have stood. The ruins were more extensive here, and he had to dismount to lead his palfrey through them. In the west, the sun had vanished behind a bank of low clouds. Gorse and bracken covered the slopes, and once inside the vanished walls the weeds were chest high. Merrett loosened his sword in its scabbard and looked about warily, but saw no outlaws. Could I have come on the wrong day? He stopped and rubbed his temples with his thumbs, but that did nothing to ease the pressure behind his eyes. Seven bloody hells...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"From somewhere deep within the castle, faint music came drifting through the trees.\\n\\nMerrett found himself shivering, despite his cloak. He pulled open his waterskin and had another drink of wine. I could just get back on my horse, ride to Oldtown, and drink the gold away. No good ever came from dealing with outlaws. That vile little bitch Wenda had burned a fawn into the cheek of his arse while she had him captive. No wonder his wife despised him. I have to go through with this. Petyr Pimple might be Lord of the Crossing one day, Edwyn has no sons and Black Walder's only got bastards. Petyr will remember who came to get him. He took another swallow, corked the skin up, and led his palfrey through broken stones, gorse, and thin wind-whipped trees, following the sounds to what had been the castle ward.\\n\\nFallen leaves lay thick upon the ground, like soldiers after some great slaughter. A man in patched, faded greens was sitting crosslegged atop a weathered stone sepulcher, fingering the strings of a woodharp. The music was soft and sad. Merrett knew the song. High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts...\\n\\n\\\"Get off there,\\\" Merrett said. \\\"You're sitting on a king.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Old Tristifer don't mind my bony arse. The Hammer of Justice, they called him. Been along while since he heard any new songs.\\\" The outlaw hopped down. Trim and slim, he had a narrow face and foxy features, but his mouth was so wide that his smile seemed to touch his ears. A few strands of thin brown hair were blowing across his brow. He pushed them back with his freehand and said, \\\"Do you remember me, my lord?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No.\\\" Merrett frowned. \\\"Why would I?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I sang at your daughter's wedding. And passing well, I thought. That Pate she married was a cousin. We're all cousins in Sevenstreams. Didn't stop him from turning niggard when it was time to pay me.\\\" He shrugged. \\\"Why is it your lord father never has me play at the Twins? Don't I make enough noise for his lordship? He likes it loud, I have been hearing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You bring the gold?\\\" asked a harsher voice, behind him.\\n\\nMerrett's throat was dry. Bloody outlaws, always hiding in the bushes. It had been the same in the kingswood. you'd think you'd caught five of them, and ten more would spring from nowhere.\\n\\nWhen he turned, they were all around him; an ill-favored gaggle of leathery old men and smooth-cheeked lads younger than Petyr Pimple, the lot of them clad in roughspun rags, boiled leather, and bits of dead men's armor. There was one woman with them, bundled up in a hooded cloak three times too big for her. Merrett was too flustered to count them, but there seemed to be a dozen at the least, maybe a score.\\n\\n\\\"I asked a question.\\\" The speaker was a big bearded man with crooked green teeth and a broken nose; taller than Merrett, though not so heavy in the belly. A halfhelm covered his head, a patched yellow cloak his broad shoulders. \\\"Where's our gold?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In my saddlebag. A hundred golden dragons.\\\" Merrett cleared his throat. \\\"You'll get it when I see that Petyr-\\\"\\n\\nA squat one-eyed outlaw strode forward before he could finish, reached into the saddlebag bold as you please, and found the sack. Merrett started to grab him, then thought better of it. The outlaw opened the drawstring, removed a coin, and bit it. \\\"Tastes right.\\\" He hefted the sack. \\\"Feels right too.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They're going to take the gold and keep Petyr too, Merrett thought in sudden panic. \\\"That's the whole ransom. All you asked for.\\\" His palms were sweating. He wiped them on his breeches. \\\"Which one of you is Beric Dondarrion?\\\" Dondarrion had been a lord before he turned outlaw, he might still be a man of honor.\\n\\n\\\"Why, that would be me,\\\" said the one-eyed man.\\n\\n\\\"You're a bloody liar, Jack,\\\" said the big bearded man in the yellow cloak. \\\"It's my turn to be Lord Beric.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Does that mean I have to be Thoros?\\\" The singer laughed. \\\"My lord, sad to say, Lord Beric was needed elsewhere. The times are troubled, and there are many battles to fight. But we'll sort you out just as he would, have no fear.\\\"\\n\\nMerrett had plenty of fear. His head was pounding too. Much more of this and he'd be sobbing. \\\"You have your gold,\\\" he said. \\\"Give me my nephew, and I'll begone.\\\" Petyr was actually more a great half-nephew, but there was no need to go into that.\\n\\n\\\"He's in the godswood,\\\" said the man in the yellow cloak. \\\"We'll take you to him. Notch, you hold his horse.\\\"\\n\\nMerrett handed over the bridle reluctantly. He did not see what other choice he had. \\\"My water skin,\\\" he heard himself say. \\\"A swallow of wine, to settle my-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We don't drink with your sort,\\\" yellow cloak said curtly. \\\"It's this way. Follow me.\\\"\\n\\nLeaves crunched beneath their heels, and every step sent a spike of pain through Merrett's temple. They walked in silence, the wind gusting around them. The last light of the setting sun was in his eyes as he clambered over the mossy hummocks that were all that remained of the keep. Behind was the godswood.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Petyr Pimple was hanging from the limb of an oak, a noose tight around his long thin neck.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His eyes bulged from a blackface, staring down at Merrett accusingly. You came too late, they seemed to say. But he hadn't. He hadn't! He had come when they told him. \\\"You killed him,\\\" he croaked.\\n\\n\\\"Sharp as a blade, this one,\\\" said the one-eyed man.\\n\\nAn aurochs was thundering through Merrett's head. Mother have mercy, he thought. \\\"I brought the gold.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That was good of you,\\\" said the singer amiably. \\\"We'll see that it's put to good use.\\\"\\n\\nMerrett turned away from Petyr. He could taste the bile in the back of his throat. \\\"You... you had no right.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We had a rope,\\\" said yellow cloak. \\\"That's right enough.\\\"\\n\\nTwo of the outlaws seized Merrett's arms and bound them tight behind his back. He was too deep in shock to struggle. \\\"No,\\\" was all he could manage. \\\"I only came to ransom Petyr. You said if you had the gold by sunset he wouldn't be harmed...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well,\\\" said the singer, \\\"you've got us there, my lord. That was a lie of sorts, as it happens.\\\"\\n\\nThe one-eyed outlaw came forward with along coil of hempen rope. He looped one end around Merrett's neck, pulled it tight, and tied a hard knot under his ear. The other end he threw over the limb of the oak. The big man in the yellow cloak caught it.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing?\\\" Merrett knew how stupid that sounded, but he could not believe what was happening, even then. \\\"You'd never dare hang a Frey.\\\"\\n\\nYellow cloak laughed. \\\"That other one, the pimply boy, he said the same thing.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He doesn't mean it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He cannot mean it. \\\"My father will pay you. I'm worth a good ransom, more than Petyr, twice as much.\\\"\\n\\nThe singer sighed. \\\"Lord Walder might behalf-blind and gouty, but he's not so stupid as to snap at the same bait twice. Next time he'll send a hundred swords instead of a hundred dragons, I fear.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He will!\\\" Merrett tried to sound stern, but his voice betrayed him. \\\"He'll send a thousand swords, and kill you all.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He has to catch us first.\\\" The singer glanced up at poor Petyr. \\\"And he can't hang us twice, now can he?\\\" He drew a melancholy air from the strings of his woodharp. \\\"Here now, don't soil yourself. All you need to do is answer me a question, and I'll tell them to let you go.\\\"\\n\\nMerrett would tell them anything if it meant his life. \\\"What do you want to know? I'll tell you true, I swear it.\\\"\\n\\nThe outlaw gave him an encouraging smile. \\\"Well, as it happens, we're looking fora dog that ran away.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A dog?\\\" Merrett was lost. \\\"What kind of dog?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He answers to the name Sandor Clegane. Thoros says he was making for the Twins. We found the ferrymen who took him across the Trident, and the poor sod he robbed on the kingsroad. Did you see him at the wedding, perchance?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Red Wedding?\\\" Merrett's skull felt as if it were about to split, but he did his best to recall. There had been so much confusion, but surely someone would have mentioned Joffrey's dog sniffing round the Twins. \\\"He wasn't in the castle. Not at the main feast... he might have been at the bastard feast, or in the camps, but... no, someone would have said...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He would have had a child with him,\\\" said the singer.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"A skinny girl, about ten. Or perhaps a boy the same age.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't think so,\\\" said Merrett. \\\"Not that I knew.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No? Ah, that's a pity. Well, up you go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Merrett squealed loudly. \\\"No, don't, I gave you your answer, you said you'd let me go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Seems tome that what I said was I'd tell them to let you go.\\\" The singer looked at yellow cloak. \\\"Lem, let him go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Go bugger yourself,\\\" the big outlaw replied brusquely.\\n\\nThe singer gave Merrett a helpless shrug and began to play, \\\"The Day They Hanged Black Robin.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Please.\\\" The last of Merrett's courage was running down his leg. \\\"I've done you no harm. I brought the gold, the way you said. I answered your question. I have children.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That Young Wolf never will,\\\" said the one-eyed outlaw.\\n\\nMerrett could hardly think for the pounding in his head. \\\"He shamed us, the whole realm was laughing, we had to cleanse the stain on our honor.\\\" His father had said all that and more.\\n\\n\\\"Maybe so. What do a bunch o'bloody peasants know about a lord's honor?\\\" Yellow cloak wrapped the end of the rope around his hand three times. \\\"We know some about murder, though.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not murder.\\\" His voice was shrill. \\\"It was vengeance, we had aright to our vengeance. It was war. Aegon, we called him Jinglebell, a poor lackwit never hurt anyone, Lady Stark cut his throat. We lost half a hundred men in the camps. Ser Garse Goodbrook, Kyra's husband, and Ser Tytos, Jared's son... someone smashed his head in with an axe... Stark's direwolf killed four of our wolfhounds and tore the kennelmaster's arm off his shoulder, even after we'd filled him full of quarrels...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So you sewed his head on Robb Stark's neck after both o\\\" them were dead,\\\" said yellow cloak.\\n\\n\\\"My father did that. All I did was drink. You wouldn't kill a man for drinking.\\\" Merrett remembered something then, something that might be the saving of him. \\\"They say Lord Beric always gives a man atrial, that he won't kill a man unless something's proved against him. You can't prove anything against me. The Red Wedding was my father's work, and Ryman's and Lord Bolton's. Lothar rigged the tents to collapse and put the crossbowmen in the gallery with the musicians, Bastard Walder led the attack on the camps... they're the ones you want, not me, I only drank some wine... you have no witness.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As it happens, you're wrong there.\\\" The singer turned to the hooded woman. \\\"Milady?\\\"\\n\\nThe outlaws parted as she came forward, saying no word. When she lowered her hood, something tightened inside Merrett's chest, and fora moment he could not breathe. No. No, I saw her die. She was dead fora day and night before they stripped her naked and threw her body in the river. Raymund opened her throat from ear to ear. She was dead.\\n\\nHer cloak and collar hid the gash his brother's blade had made, but her face was even worse than he remembered. The flesh had gone pudding soft in the water and turned the color of curdled milk. Half her hair was gone and the rest had turned as white and brittle as a crone's. Beneath her ravaged scalp, her face was shredded skin and black blood where she had raked herself with her nails. But her eyes were the most terrible thing. Her eyes saw him, and they hated.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"She don't speak,\\\" said the big man in the yellow cloak. \\\"You bloody bastards cut her throat too deep for that. But she remembers.\\\" He turned to the dead woman and said, \\\"What do you say, m'lady? Was he part of it?\\\"\\n\\nLady Catelyn's eyes never left him. She nodded.\\n\\nMerrett Frey opened his mouth to plead, but the noose choked off his words. His feet left the ground, the rope cutting deep into the soft flesh beneath his chin. Up into the air he jerked, kicking and twisting, up and up and up.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2292,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 3"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Cheren Horse Clan\n\nJin-daughter of Uldin, King of the Cheren. Award of the Ben-Elim, raised in Drassil. Betrothed to Bleda of the Sirak Clan.\n\nUldin-King of the Cheren and father to Jin.\n\nGerel-Jin's oathsworn guard.\n\nSirak Horse Clan\n\nBleda-son of Erdene, Queen of the Sirak. Award of the Ben-Elim, raised in Drassil. Betrothed to Jin of the Cheren Clan.\n\nEllac-A one-handed warrior of the Sirak. Bleda's guard.\n\nErdene-Queen of the Sirak. Mother of Bleda.\n\nMirim-oathsworn guard of Bleda.\n\nRuga-oathsworn guard of Bleda.\n\nTuld-oathsworn guard of Bleda.\n\nYul-first-sword of Erdene.\n\nDrem-a trapper of the Desolation. Son of Olin.\n\nHildith-member of Kergard's Assembly. Owner of a mead-hall.\n\nAlcyon-a giant who resides in Drassil.\n\nAphra-sister of Riv. A White-Wing of Drassil, captain of a hundred.\n\nAvi-Fia's son.\n\nBalur One-Eye-father to Ethlinn, Queen of the Giants. He resides in Drassil.\n\nErt-veteran sword master of Drassil. Trainer of the White-Wings.\n\nEthlinn-Queen of the Giants. Daughter of Balur One-Eye.\n\nFia-a White-Wing of Drassil."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jost-a White-Wing of Drassil.\n\nLorina-a White-Wing of Drassil and captain of a hundred.\n\nRiv-sister to Aphra. A training White-Wing.\n\nSorch-a White-Wing of Drassil.\n\nVald-a White-Wing of Drassil.\n\nByrne-the High Captain of Dun Seren. A descendant of Cywen and Veradis.\n\nCullen-a young warrior of Dun Seren. A descendant of Corban and Coralen.\n\nCure-title for the captain of Dun Seren's healing school.\n\nFen-one of Keld's wolven-hounds.\n\nFlick-a talking crow of Dun Seren.\n\nGrack-one of Stepor's wolven-hounds.\n\nHammer-a giant bear.\n\nKill-title for the captain of Dun Seren's warrior school.\n\nKeld-a warrior and huntsman of Dun Seren.\n\nRab-a white talking crow of Dun Seren.\n\nRalla-one of Stepor's wolven-hounds.\n\nShar-Jehar warrior.\n\nStepor-a warrior and huntsman of Dun Seren.\n\nTain-the crow master of Dun Seren. Son of Alcyon.\n\nUtul-Jehar warrior. Captain of Balara's garrison.\n\nVaran-a giant of Dun Seren.\n\nHadran-loyal to Kol. Riv's guardian.\n\nKamael-from the garrison of Ripa, supporter of Sariel.\n\nKol-one of the Ben-Elim of Drassil.\n\nMeical-once High Captain of the Ben-Elim. Now frozen in starstone metal, sealed with Asroth in Drassil."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sariel-Lord of the Ben-Elim garrison at Ripa.\n\nArn-acolyte of Gulla, from Fritha's crew.\n\nAsroth-Lord of the Kadoshim. Frozen within starstone metal in the Great Hall of Drassil.\n\nClaw-Gunil's giant bear.\n\nElise-acolyte of Gulla, daughter of Arn.\n\nGulla-High Captain of the Kadoshim.\n\nMorn-a half-breed Kadoshim. Daughter of Gulla.\n\nFritha-priestess and captain of the Kadoshim's covens.\n\nGunil-a giant, brother of Varan."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Dark blood drank he, from the demon welling\"\n\nVölsunga Saga"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Year 138 of the Age of Lore, Wolven's Moon\n\nDrem looked up from his horse's steady gait. Through the stark branches above he glimpsed the sun sinking into the mountains ahead, a pale glow behind snow cloud and leafless branches. Ina matter of heartbeats twilight was settling upon them like a shroud.\n\nWe must stop soon, else the horses risk snaring a leg.\n\nHe glanced to his right, saw Cullen riding with his cloak pulled high, face hidden in shadow. Ahead of them, Keld looked as if he had no thought for stopping, the scarred huntsman loping through the trees much like his wolven-hound, Fen.\n\nGrief drives him, and hate.\n\nAnd fear, if he is human.\n\nDrem blinked, trying to dispel the image of Gulla the Kadoshim, twitching and jerking upon the blood-soaked table in the mine, then rising transformed, teeth long and gleaming, eyes red as coals.\n\nIt felt like a dream, no, a nightmare, even though it had been less than a day and night since it happened. Too-vivid memories of the battle at the mine leaped out in Drem's mind like rabid beasts: images of Gulla sinking his teeth deep into the throat of one of his acolytes, of feral things, part man, part beast, snarling, clawing, of winged half-breeds screaming their malice, of Fritha, beautiful and cold as the ice-laden forest, black sword in her fist. And Sig the giantess, friend to his father.\n\nFriend tome.\n\nAnd now she is dead. Because of me.\n\nA restless anxiety was growing within him. So much had happened in so short a time, giving him little chance to feel anything; instead he had simply reacted, mostly just trying to stay alive. Now, though, they had been travelling all night and most of the day, and he had had time to think."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"So much change. I wish I was with Da, that we were trapping together, out in the Bonefells, just the two of us. And now he's gone as well.\n\nAs dangerous as that lifestyle had been, it was familiar to Drem, an old cloak, and it had fitted him well. All of this was so different, so new. He felt agitated, like when his legs ached and he just needed to getup and walk around, except that he couldn't do anything hereto help himself; there was noway he could return to the familiar that felt so comforting to him.\n\nHis hand crept to his neck, looking for the steady reassurance of his pulse.\n\nOne, two, three, he began to count.\n\n\"Camp,\" Keld said as he emerged from the darkness, raising an arm and smashing a hole in a frozen stream with the butt of his spear.\n\nA good spot, Drem thought, noting the spread of trees about them, the stream, huge boulders to the right, sheltering them from the cold wind that hissed out of the Bonefells, as well as providing a measure of protection from predators.\n\nOn two legs or four.\n\nIn silence they set to making camp. Cullen took the horses, hobbling them, removing saddles and rubbing them down. Drem found a spot fora fire and, drawing his hand-axe from his belt, began chopping through the thick rind of ice, then scooping away the softer snow until he reached the frozen ground beneath. He gathered stones, chopped kindling from a dead lightning-blasted oak and prepared a small fire. Before he set to lighting it, he trimmed thin branches from a willow beside the stream, spent awhile weaving them into a latticed fence, then staked it along one side of the fire-pit he'd dug. A screen against any eyes that might be following them from the east."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Some tinder from a pouch at his belt, flint and striking iron for sparks, some cold breath upon it and then fragile flames were clawing in the snow, hissing and hungry.\n\nA shaking of the ground made Drem lookup, one hand reaching for the bone-hilted seax at his belt. A shadow the size of a boulder shifted within the trees, but Drem's grip relaxed as Hammer, the giant bear, lumbered into their small clearing.\n\nHammer was Sig's battle-bear and had borne them from last night's chaos, carrying Drem, Keld and Cullen away, crashing through tree and shrub, no thought or time for careful steps or hiding their passage, just a driving knowledge that they had to escape, to put as much distance as possible between them and Gulla.\n\nHammer had run to exhaustion, bringing them back to Drem's hold in less than half the time it would have taken them on horseback. There they had dismounted, removed the saddle, harness and battered mail shirt from Hammer's body, packing it away in paniers and saddlebags. They'd tended to the wounded bear and fed her some foul concoction that Keld said was called brot, then led Hammer and fresh horses into the darkness, knowing they could not wait until dawn.\n\nThey had agreed to head west, using the cover of the forest to screen them from eyes in the skies, avoiding the town of Kergard, and then to turn south when they reached the western rim of the Bonefells. Drem had voiced his worry for the townspeople of Kergard but knew there was little they could do to help them. No one in the town had believed him before, and besides, he did not know if there was anyone in Kergard left to save. To Drem's horror, scores of the townsfolk had been at the mine, secret acolytes of the Kadoshim, including Ulf the tanner, a man Drem had once thought of as a friend."},{"from":"human","value":"So, they had committed themselves to speed."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Pursuit from the mine was likely, and they had to use every moment given them to reach Dun Seren and the Order of the Bright Star.\n\nDrem had led to begin with, his knowledge of the terrain making him the obvious choice to steer them through the darkness. With the rising of a pale sun they had mounted their horses and Keld had taken point, his wolven-hound Fen scouting ahead. Hammer had followed them, grumbling doleful growls, taking herself deeper into the woods, though never quite out of sound or sight.\n\nShe feels grief for Sig, just like Cullen and Keld. More, maybe. They were rider and mount for more years than Cullen has drawn breath. Probably longer than Keld has lived, too.\n\nKeld strode to the bear, unbuckled the saddlebags she was carrying, then checked over her wounds and patted her neck. She rubbed her huge head against the huntsman, almost knocking him from his feet.\n\n\"Ah, lass, we miss her, too,\" Keld muttered, tugging on one of the bear's ears. She seemed to like it, a mournful rumble escaping her throat.\n\nFen loped into the clearing, eyes glowing in the firelight. The slate-greyhound dropped a hare at Keld's feet.\n\n\"A hot meal for supper, then. Thank the stars, I've had enough of brot,\" Cullen said, his obvious pleasure at the thought infectious.\n\nKeld skinned and gutted the hare and set it on a spit over the fire, fat dripping and hissing. A flapping of wings came from above as a white crow descended from the branches, landing on Cullen's shoulder.\n\n\"I was wondering where you were, Rab,\" Cullen said to the crow."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Rab watching, protecting friends,\" Rab squawked, then hopped from Cullen's shoulder to the pile of guts and offal that had been stripped from the hare. He pecked noisily.\n\n\"But the love of slime and foul things drew you back to us,\" Cullen observed.\n\n\"All must eat,\" the bird croaked as it swallowed an eyeball.\n\n\"Fair point,\" Cullen said.\n\nThe dead can't eat, Drem thought, his mind filling with his father, Olin, and Sig, grief a wave rising within him, whipped high by the winds of exhaustion. His body ached, everywhere, a thousand cuts and bruises from the fight at the mine, and from before that. He raised a hand to his throat, rubbed at the scar where he'd been hung from a tree in his courtyard, twice. A memory of Fritha's face. Sweet, kind Fritha, with her blue eyes and freckles, a face he had trusted. Thought he'd begun to love.\n\nHe didn't feel like that now.\n\nI hate her, will see her dead for what she's done.\n\nA deep anger uncoiled in his chest, buried deep beneath the pain of loss and exhaustion of the last few ten-nights, distant but never gone. Much of the anger was aimed at himself, at his stupidity for staying, for the choices he'd made, choices that had led to his father's death, the loss of the Starstone Sword, the death of Sig.\n\nThe enormity of it all threatened to engulf him.\n\n\"Drem, catch,\" a voice called out, snapping him from his reverie. Cullen had thrown something to him. Instinctively, Drem caught it, along bundle. It was his sword, still in its scabbard and belt."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"My father's sword, mine now. He looked at the worn leather hilt and scabbard, drew it a little, stared at the four-pointed star carved into the blade, just below where it met the cross-guard. My da, a warrior of the Order of the Bright Star.\n\nSo much of his world had changed in such a short time; he was still reeling upon the shifting ground of his life.\n\n\"Come on,\" Cullen said, drawing his own sword from the scabbard at his hip.\n\n\"What, are they near?\" Drem asked, panic whispering in his belly as his eyes searched the shadows.\n\n\"No, lad,\" Cullen said with a grin, though he was younger than Drem. \"The sword dance, while our supper's cooking.\" He paused, looked more serious fora moment. \"I've known grief,\" he said, \"know what it can do to you, here.\" He tapped a finger to his temple. \"I can see it in you now. The sword dance always helped me, mayhap it'll help you, too.\"\n\nThe sword dance. Traditional training for the Order. Drem had rarely touched a sword in his twenty-one summers of life. While a trapper's life required being intimately accustomed to the use of spear, knife and axe in order to survive in the wild, a sword was a warrior's weapon, used to fight other warriors. There weren't many warriors to be found in the great wild of the Desolation and Bonefells. Only four or five moons had passed since Olin had first introduced Drem to a sword and begun to teach him the rudiments of its use. Since then Drem had killed with it. A terrible knowledge, one that he felt deep in his bones, an aching sadness that weighed upon him. Drem hated to fight, he disliked the use of violence. But these were violent times, and as his da had said, better to be the one that lives than the one that dies."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"With a sigh, Drem followed Cullen to a clear space. Keld looked up from the fire-pit to watch them.\n\n\"Stooping falcon,\" Cullen said, raising his sword two-handed above his head.\n\nDrem drew his own blade, dropping the scabbard in the snow, sending long, distended shadows stretching across the glade.\n\nStooping falcon, he heard his father's voice whisper in his head.\n\nDrem licked grease from his fingers; the weight of a hot meal in his belly spread some warmth through him. He blew along breath out, savouring the feeling. Beside him Cullen smacked his lips and Keld threw a bone to Fen, who plucked it from the air and crunched it into splinters.\n\n\"I can't believe Sig's gone,\" Cullen whispered, staring at the flames. Drem saw a tear cutting a line through the dirt and grime on Cullen's face. \"All my life she's seemed immortal, solid as the stone and timber of Dun Seren. She was a legend even before joining with my great-grandfather to found the Order.\" He bowed his head.\n\nKeld grunted something as he sat with a whetstone, five or six knives laid out before him, as well as three hand-axes and his sword.\n\n\"Poor Sig,\" Rab cawed mournfully from a branch above them.\n\n\"I'll take Gulla's head and drink mead from his boiled skull while I stand upon a mound of his dead half-breeds and acolytes,\" Cullen snarled. Drem was learning that Cullen was not one to hide his feelings, whatever they were.\n\n\"Rab will peck Gulla's other eye out,\" Rab cawed."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Cullen smiled up at the white crow.\n\n\"Aye, lad, Sig was the best of us,\" Keld said quietly. \"More than that, she was my friend, saved my life more times than I can remember.\" He paused and spat on the fire. \"She'll be sorely missed.\" A silence fell amongst them, filled with the grate of whetstone on steel, the crackling of flames, the creak and scrape of branches. \"You'll have your vengeance, my friend,\" Keld said, eyes fixed on the flames of the fire. Drem didn't think that the huntsman was talking to him or Cullen.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" Drem whispered.\n\nKeld and Cullen just stared at Drem.\n\n\"For sending my message to Dun Seren, bringing both of you and Sig here.\" He put his head in his hands. \"I wish it had been me that died, not Sig. Wish I'd left when my da said we should run, wish I'd never laid eyes on Fritha. If not for me, my father would still be alive, Sig, too.\"\n\n\"You didn't kill Olin or Sig,\" Keld grunted. \"It was that winged bastard Gulla and his brood.\"\n\n\"But if-\"\n\n\"No,\" Keld snapped. \"Everything's easy looking back at the path you've trod, and it's a fool's game to try.\" He looked up from the blade in his lap, eyes fixing Drem. There was something wild in his gaze, untamed. \"You've no guilt or shame in this, Drem. Think on this: what would be happening now if we hadn't witnessed that foul ceremony last night?\"\n\nDrem frowned, thinking about that. \"Gulla would be transformed, still. A Revenant, Fritha called him.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"They wouldn't be needing to spend half a day burying their dead, or torching them, and that's a fact,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Cullen and Keld are mighty warriors,\" Rab muttered. \"And Drem,\" the crow added, bobbing his head at Drem.\n\nIs that crow trying not to hurt my feelings?\n\n\"Aye, true enough,\" Keld agreed. \"Gulla turned some of his acolytes into the same corruption as him,\" he said thoughtfully. \"This is part of the Kadoshim's plan, part of the Long War. So, I'll ask you again, Drem, what would be happening now?\"\n\n\"He'd be raising his army,\" Drem told them. \"Sig said the Kadoshim are too few to win the war against the Ben-Elim, that they need numbers, warriors.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Keld said, \"and their acolytes are not enough. They've been experimenting at that mine, using dark magic to make those Feral beast-men, and now these new creatures, Revenants. Once Gulla has what he needs, he'll fall upon the Banished Lands like a plague.\"\n\nDrem shook his head. Part of him had known this, but in the madness of battle, the grief at losing Sig and the following exhaustion of flight, the weight of it had not settled in his mind. It was starting to make sense now.\n\n\"Without you, we would not have known anything about it,\" Cullen said, squeezing Drem's shoulder.\n\n\"Aye. Long have we searched for Gulla, High Captain of the Kadoshim. He is second only to Asroth, and you led us to him. You've given mankind a chance,\" Keld said. \"Course, they may still catch us and leave us bleeding out in the snow, or those Feral things might end up gnawing on our bones and sucking out our marrows, though I'll take a few of them with us before I'll let that happen.\" Keld patted his axe lovingly, face twisted in a maniacal grin. \"But at least we have a chance now, and that's because of you. Olin would be proud.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Drem felt a flare of warmth in his chest at that, though edged with the grief that every memory of his da brought with it.\n\n\"Though he wouldn't be so proud of that,\" Keld said, nodding at Drem's seax.\n\n\"What?\" Drem said, putting a hand on the bone-hilted knife at his belt.\n\n\"Oh, dear Elyon above,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Can you even take it from its scabbard?\" Keld asked.\n\nDrem tried, but it was stuck. He looked closer, saw blood had crusted black on the scabbard, thick where the bone hilt met leather. He tugged and twisted the seax free. It was a big knife, more like a short-sword, as long as his forearm, the blade thick and single-edged, curving on the sharp side to a tapered point.\n\n\"Ach,\" Keld said with a disgusted twist of his lips. \"You should have a ten-night on latrine duty at Dun Seren for that.\"\n\nShamefaced, Drem set to scouring the blade clean, taking a pumice stone and oil from a pouch on his belt. There were new notches in the blade, testament to the battle at the mine. Blood had congealed in the pits of the steel. Drem scraped it away, scrubbing hard with the pumice.\n\n\"Can I see that?\" Cullen asked beside him.\n\nDrem passed him the seax. The hilt was worn and smooth from Drem's grip, a perfect fit for his fist.\n\nCullen hefted the weapon, noting the weight, gave it a twirl in his fist, firelight gleaming red. Then he looked closer at the blade, with Keld leaning in as well. Cullen passed the seax to the huntsman."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Did Olin forge this?\" Keld asked.\n\n\"Aye, he did,\" Drem said. He remembered his da in the smithy at Kergard during their first winter in the Desolation. That had been five years ago.\n\nKeld drew his thumb along the blade's edge, blood welled. He let a few drops land on the flat and smeared them in. \"Nochtann,\" he said, and the steel of the blade seemed to shimmer and ripple.\n\nDrem blinked; carved runes were winking into life along the blade. He leaned forwards, staring.\n\n\"Where did they come from?\" Drem muttered.\n\n\"They've always been there.\" Cullen smiled.\n\n\"Aye, lad,\" Keld said. \"Olin put them there, when he forged it.\"\n\n\"How? Why have I never seen them?\"\n\n\"We learn more than swordcraft at Dun Seren,\" Keld said with a wink.\n\n\"I haven't, yet,\" Cullen said sullenly.\n\nDrem shook his head. He'd had a lotto come to terms with over the last couple of moons, foremost of which was the fact that there was much more to his da than he had ever known. It still hurt that Olin had kept so much hidden from Drem, but he knew it had been to protect him. Only when he had helped his father forge the Starstone Sword had he seen the depth of Olin's mystery; he'd carved runes and cast spells of power over the new-forged blade. It had been quite a shock.\n\n\"I've learned my letters, but I can't read that,\" Drem said. \"I don't understand. What language is it? What does it say?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"It's the first tongue,\" Keld said, \"spoken once by giants and men alike, but now you'd call it Giantish."},{"from":"gpt","value":"It says dilis cosantoir. Faithful protector.\"\n\nMy da tried to protect me his whole life. And even now, from the grave, his protective hand lingers.\n\nDrem felt his eyes mist and, fora moment, almost sensed that his father was sitting beside him at the campfire.\n\n\"They are more than words,\" Keld said. \"That blade will never break, and I'm guessing it's never needed much sharpening.\" He gave the seax back to Drem.\n\n\"Now that you mention it, no, it doesn't,\" Drem said. He looked at the seax with a sense of wonder, and as he watched, the runes faded and disappeared. He cast his whetstone along its edge a few times, but that was all it needed, then set to cleaning the scabbard of dried blood. After that he worked on the hand-axe at his belt, the misery that had settled upon him during the day's journey a little eased by Keld and Cullen's words, and by the thought of his da.\n\nThe three men settled into a companionable silence. Hammer the giant bear sat and then lay down. Within heartbeats she was snoring like an avalanche in the Bonefells.\n\n\"How long until we reach Dun Seren?\" Drem asked.\n\nKeld rubbed a handover his newly shaved head, a ruse both the huntsman and Cullen had used to infiltrate the acolytes at the starstone mine.\n\n\"Took us two ten-nights to get here,\" he muttered, \"but it'll take us longer going back, using the forests and Bonefells to hide us from anyone tracking.\"\n\nThe thought of Kadoshim and Feral beast-men sent a shiver through Drem. Last night's fight had a dreamlike quality to it, parts of it blurred and ethereal, other parts too vivid and blood-bright. He shook the thoughts away, fingers reaching to his neck, searching for the drumbeat of his heart, which always gave him a sense of calm."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Whatever it takes, we must get back to Dun Seren,\" Keld said. \"Our High Captain Byrne must hear of all that's happened. Gulla, Revenants, Feral beasts, a Starstone Sword.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Cullen agreed. \"And she must be told about Gunil.\"\n\n\"Gunil?\" Drem said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Keld grunted. \"The giant that fought for Gulla. He belonged to the Order once, was brother to Varan, the giant lord of the Jotun Clan. Varan was killed over sixteen years ago and Gunil was thought to have been slain, too.\" Keld was silent a moment, lost in thought. \"Gunil and Sig were... close.\"\n\nAnd Sig fought him at the mine. That must have hurt her. Drem felt the spark of a cold anger in his gut, another wrong that needed to be put right. He put Gunil on the list of those he would make answer for their deeds.\n\n\"Why does he fight for Gulla?\" Drem asked.\n\nKeld shrugged. \"He was always... guarded, secretive. But I never suspected him of being a traitor.\" He grated his teeth and patted his axe. \"It's something he'll have to answer to my axe for.\"\n\n\"We have to reach Dun Seren,\" Drem said. \"We cannot fail.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Keld agreed. \"I've been thinking the same thing. Rab, I want you to set wing for Dun Seren. Tell Byrne what has happened, about Sig, and what we've seen. And tell her to send a few swords out to meet us. We'll probably need all the help we can get.\"\n\n\"Rab can't go,\" the crow squawked, sounding horrified. \"Rab watching you, Rab protecting you.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And a fine job you've been doing,\" Cullen said. \"But it's more important that Byrne knows what's happening.\"\n\n\"Rab know.\" The bird's head bobbed. \"But Rab not want to leave friends.\"\n\n\"Comeback to us when you've spoken to Byrne,\" Cullen said. \"Lead those she sends to help us.\"\n\n\"Yes, Rab will bring help,\" the crow cawed, sounding somewhat appeased.\n\n\"Good,\" Keld said. \"Leave in the morning, as soon as the sunrises.\"\n\nDrem woke to the gentle sensation of snow falling upon his face. He sat up, pushing off one of the thick cloaks he'd packed when they had stopped briefly at his hold. Dawn was settling about them, darkness shifting to grey. Hammer was gone, and Keld's bed mat was empty, the huntsman nowhere to be seen, but Cullen was curled and snoring beneath a bearskin cloak. Rab was roosting beside the red-haired warrior, his head tucked under awing. As Drem stood and stretched, a myriad of aches clamouring for his attention, the crow poked his head out from under his wing and studied Drem with a bright, intelligent eye.\n\n\"Rab remember Olin,\" the bird said. \"Olin kind to Rab.\"\n\nDrem blinked at that; the thought of his father talking to crows was a strange one.\n\nThough it shouldn't be, not after all I've learned of him.\n\n\"He was kind tome, too,\" Drem said.\n\nKeld appeared from the trees, his wolven-hound a blurred shadow deeper within the forest.\n\n\"No sight or smell of any pursuit. Still, we should be away.\" Keld nudged Cullen with his boot and tutted. \"He's a good lad to have at your back in a scrap, but he'd sleep and snore his way through the world's ending.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I'm wide awake,\" Cullen's muffled voice came from beneath his cloak. \"Just resting my eyes.\"\n\n\"Rab, you should be for Dun Seren, now.\"\n\n\"Rab go search first, make sure friends are safe from Kadoshim.\"\n\n\"Aye, goon then.\"\n\nThey broke camp as Rab flew into the canopy above, were saddled and ready to go by the time the white crow returned to them.\n\n\"Rab see nothing behind,\" the bird cawed.\n\n\"Good,\" Keld said. \"Be on your way, then.\" He looked into the trees behind them, sniffed. \"And fly fast.\"\n\nCullen sat up and threw the crow something-a remnant saved from last night's meal. The crow caught it with a snap of his beak.\n\n\"Farewell, Rab's friends,\" the crow squawked as he flapped into the air, spiralled higher and disappeared through the branches above, the sky a snow-glare beyond.\n\n\"Let's be off, then,\" Keld said.\n\nDrem stamped his feet and rubbed his gloved hands together, then climbed into his saddle. With a clink of harness the three men set off into the snow."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv sped through the sky, wings beating, wind ripping tears from her eyes, the joy of it bubbling in her chest. She passed through a bank of cloud, whooping as she overtook a flock of geese.\n\nI am free up here, away from the world and its turmoil. Here all is so simple and clean. A moment's thought, and her wings were snapping in tight to her body and suddenly she was looping and diving, away from the clouds and the dull gleam of the sun, down, towards an endless canopy of green. She flew back, towards a range of hills cloaked beneath the immeasurable green of Forn Forest, ancient trees rising up to meet her. A little closer and a gap in the forest became visible, a road growing clearer, upon it small figures on horseback riding towards her.\n\nHer sharp eyes counted a dozen riders, amongst them the distinctive shape of her friend, Jost, tall and thin, and not the greatest figure on horseback.\n\nHe looks like a sack of grain tied to the saddle. Riv grinned.\n\nShe spotted another rider galloping well ahead of the others, a league at least, and Riv's grin widened.\n\nBleda.\n\nFlying towards him, lower and lower until she skimmed the road, racing her own shadow, the trees of Forn Forest rearing tall either side of her. Bleda called out to her, but his words were lost in the roar of the wind. With a twist of her wings she decelerated and turned, diving into the treeline, the world immediately shifting to shadow. Twisting and turning, spiralling through winter-sparse branches, the muscles in her back aching as she demanded more from her new-found wings, the sharp sensation of scratches opening along her shoulders, one across her cheek. She didn't care, lost in the pounding of her heartbeat, and then with a burst of leaves and twigs and laughter she exploded back onto the road, right in front of Bleda."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He was an expert horseman and reined in, his knees moving, squeezing, bringing his horse out of a gallop as if it were a manoeuvre he practised a dozen times each day before highsun, but even though Riv didn't hear the words she saw the curses spilling from his lips, which made her laugh all the louder.\n\nShe hovered above Bleda, grinning as he frowned up at her, his sweat-streaked horse blowing great plumes of air in the cold.\n\n\"You should not fly so far ahead, it is not safe,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"You should ride faster, then,\" Riv answered, still grinning.\n\n\"Huh.\" Bleda snorted and leaned in his saddle, patting his mount's shoulder. \"My mare is fast, but she is not the wind.\"\n\n\"I am, though,\" Riv said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Bleda agreed, \"you areas fast as the wind.\" He smiled then, his normally impassive face yielding to the assault of her smiles. \"How does it feel to fly so fast? The gallop, it sets my heart free, so to fly as you can...\" He shook his head with envy.\n\n\"It is wonderful,\" she agreed, a pulse of her wings as she descended, feet touching gently upon the ground.\n\n\"You are doing much better,\" Bleda commented. \"I remember the first time, you almost broke your knees.\" He laughed at the memory, swaying in his saddle.\n\nIt had hurt; Riv had returned from her first flight, ecstatic from the experience, but she had misjudged the speed of her landing and ended up a crumpled heap on the floor, spikes of pain jolting through her legs. Still, she had had much to come to terms within little time. All her life she had just wanted to be a warrior, to join the elite White-Wings of Drassil and serve the Ben-Elim and their holy cause. With the coming of her wings all had changed, not least the fact that she must be a half-breed, which meant there was a death sentence hanging over her head. None of that dampened the joy of flying, though."},{"from":"human","value":"\"I can understand the joy you feel, and the freedom,\" Bleda said, straightening and wiping a tear of laughter from his eye."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"But you should still stay closer. You are not the only one in the Banished Lands with wings. And you have enemies.\"\n\n\"I do.\" Memories of Kol's scarred, handsome face, blond hair bound tight, white wings arching behind him, slaying Israfil, the Lord Protector of the Ben-Elim. Then turning his blade upon Riv's mamas she tried to protect her. Riv could still see her mam's lifeless eyes, glazed and vacant, felt a physical pain in her chest as the image wormed its way through her.\n\nI swear I'll take his head.\n\n\"Even if I flew closer, what could you do, if I were attacked by Ben-Elim in the air?\" Riv shrugged.\n\nBleda patted the double-curved bow that satin a leather case strapped to his saddle, fingertips brushing the feathers of a bundle of arrows in a quiver harnessed beside the bow.\n\n\"I can do a lot,\" he said, no trace of pride or braggart about him, just a flat statement of the truth.\n\nRiv didn't doubt it, having seen him inaction.\n\n\"I shall fly closer, then,\" Riv said with ashy smile and dip of her head. \"But, in the meantime, I'm hungry, so let's eat something while we wait for the others.\"\n\n\"They were right behind me,\" Bleda said, frowning as he twisted in his saddle to look back along the road that snaked its way through the hills.\n\n\"You were over a league ahead of them.\" Riv snorted. \"They'll be awhile yet.\" She took the bridle of Bleda's mount and led them to a patch of grass on the roadside shaded by towering trees, the ground thick with purple heather and thyme. They rooted through Bleda's saddlebags and sat with a loaf of bread, around of cheese and a skin of cold spring water. A companionable silence settled between them, Riv taking along draught of water and watching Bleda eat."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He broke a small piece of bread from the loaf, set it to one side and pulled a little eating knife from his belt, cutting a slice of cheese and placing it neatly on the bread, then with obvious pleasure ate it. She smiled to herself, thinking how once not so long ago she had thought of Bleda as cold-faced and cold-hearted, his dark skin and almond-shaped eyes making him seem almost a different species. Now she hardly noticed any of that, except to think how pleasant he was to look at.\n\n\"What?\" Bleda said, feeling Riv's gaze.\n\n\"You look like you're enjoying that.\" She shivered and with a rustle of feathers wrapped her wings about her.\n\nThese things have more than one use, she thought, though they do take a bit of getting used to. She shifted her weight, releasing one wingtip that had been stuck beneath her backside.\n\n\"It's good,\" Bleda said. \"Here, try some.\" He went through the same ritual and gave it to Riv.\n\n\"Mmmm,\" Riv said as the cheese and bread crumbled in her mouth. She leaned back, shifted awing and rested an elbow in a patch of purple-flowered thyme. A gentle, earthy smell wafted up.\n\n\"I used to hate the forest,\" Bleda said, looking around. \"It could not be more different from my home, the sea of grass. Once this felt suffocating tome.\" He looked from the trees to Riv. \"Now, I am starting to like it.\"\n\n\"You are so different here,\" Riv said. \"Different to when you were at Drassil.\"\n\n\"My cold-face, you mean?\" Bleda asked.\n\n\"Aye. And other things.\"\n\nBleda looked at her in silence along moment, then drew a deep breath."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"My Clan are trained to mask our emotions from before we can speak,\" he said, \"but that is not all that we are. The face of stone is for our enemies. No, that is not quite right; it is for anyone who is not kin, anyone who cannot be wholly trusted. We are taught to keep this guarded-\" he placed a handover his heart-\"taught to appear strong, to show no weakness. But there is more to the Sirak than the cold-face.\"\n\n\"I see that now,\" Riv said.\n\n\"We area passionate people,\" he continued, \"and amongst my kin I laughed much, until...\" He fell silent, eyes distant. Riv knew what he was thinking about, that dread day when his brother and sister had been slaughtered, and he taken from his Clan by the Ben-Elim, to be award as surety against his Clan's rebelliousness.\n\nBleda took in along, shuddering breath and shook his head, looked back at Riv.\n\n\"I have been at Drassil for so long, a stranger in a strange land. But look at me now; I cannot seem to stop smiling,\" Bleda said. \"Even after all that has happened.\" He looked at Riv with sympathy in his eyes. \"Amongst those we trust, my Clan will smile and laugh, cry and fight.\" Bleda paused, thoughtful. \"But it is not a gift for all to see. It is a privilege, earned by trust.\"\n\n\"You used to annoy me,\" Riv confessed, smiling sheepishly. \"How nothing would bother or excite you. It's not normal.\"\n\n\"You used to annoy me.\" Bleda grinned back. \"How everything seemed to bother and excite you. That's not normal, either.\"\n\nThey both laughed then, warm and genuine."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Thank you,\" Riv said and impulsively plucked a flower of purple thyme, thrusting it at Bleda.\n\n\"What for?\" he asked.\n\n\"For saving my life. In Drassil.\"\n\nBleda's expression turned serious. \"You're my friend,\" he said, gazing solemnly at her. \"And...\" They sat like that along moment, the silence lengthening, Riv feeling that Bleda was about to say something else. The world about Riv faded, shrinking down to Bleda's face, the gleam in his dark eyes, the curve of his lips. For one timeless moment she felt the urge to lean forwards and kiss him. A jolt of shock at that thought, a tingle of excitement mingled with fear.\n\nCrows squawked, a raucous explosion as a handful burst from branches looming over Riv and Bleda.\n\nBleda looked over his shoulder, at the road.\n\n\"They will be here soon,\" Riv said and Bleda nodded.\n\n\"And?\" Riv prompted. She wanted to know what he had been about to say.\n\n\"And...\" His expression shifted, a softening around the mouth and a crease at the eyes. \"This world would be a darker place without you, Riven ap Lorin,\" he said, using her full name for the first time. \"And definitely more boring.\" He took the flower of thyme and inspected it between thumb and forefinger, twirling it. \"Ouch,\" he said. Then smiled. \"It's like you. Prickly.\"\n\nThe sound of hooves grew loud, and then riders came into view, a dozen others coming up to them and reining in. Two young men were at the front, their short-cropped hair and black cuirasses with white wings embossed upon them marking them out as White-Wings-and Riv's friends. The tall and skinny Jost bumped along in his saddle, with the bull-like Vald beside him, his broad and muscled bulk as dissimilar to his friend as a mastiff to a lurcher."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"From the corner of her eye, Riv saw Bleda carefully put the flower she'd given him into a pocket in his cloak.\n\nTen of the twelve riders were Bleda's warrior-guard from the Sirak Clan of far-off Arcona, oath-bound to protect their young prince with their lives. They were of a similar appearance to Bleda, all dark-skinned with fur-lined deel tunics and baggy breeches bound with strips of cloth from ankle to knee. Curved bows like Bleda's hung from their saddles, and short curved swords were strapped across their backs. Where Bleda's black hair was long and unruly, they all had shaven heads apart from a single thick-bound braid. Until recently Bleda had always had close-cropped hair, as had Riv, emulating the appearance of the White-Wings, Drassil's elite warriors. Riv brushed a handover her own fair hair. It had grown since the day she had collapsed in the warrior field as her wings had begun to grow, and now it was almost as long as Bleda's. As she thought about it, she was surprised to realize that she had no urge or desire to cut it back to the White-Wings uniform style.\n\nThe Ben-Elim control me no longer.\n\n\"Finally-thank Elyon above,\" Vald said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Jost agreed wholeheartedly. He stood up in his stirrups and groaned, rubbing his backside. \"Arrgh, but my arse feels like Balur One-Eye's pounded on it with his war-hammer. Why do you have to fly so damn far?\"\n\nRiv just grinned at him.\n\nOne of the Sirak riders guided his mount to loom over Riv and Bleda, an older man, grey-haired and looking like a wind-blasted tree, skin dark and cracked with deep lines. Ellac, the captain of Bleda's honour guard. His reins were wrapped around a leather gauntlet strapped to the stump of his wrist, his right hand lost in some long-ago battle. He was frowning."},{"from":"human","value":"Riv felt her smile wilt; something about the old man was intimidating."},{"from":"gpt","value":"A glance at Bleda and she saw his cold-face was back in place.\n\n\"You should not fly so far out of our range,\" Ellac said to Riv, his tone flat, as if he were stating an uncontested truth.\n\n\"I was just telling her that,\" Bleda said.\n\nThanks a lot, Riv thought.\n\n\"And you should not ride so far ahead of the rest of us.\" Ellac turned his flat gaze upon Bleda.\n\n\"I just told Bleda that same thing,\" Riv said.\n\nGive as thou receive, Riv intoned silently from Elyon's Lore.\n\nBleda's mouth twitched.\n\n\"You should not disregard your kin so,\" Ellac said to Bleda, holding his gaze, the hint of humour in Bleda's face nowhere to be seen now. He hung his head.\n\n\"The blame is mine,\" Riv said, a pulse from her wings as they spread wide helping her to rise effortlessly to her feet.\n\n\"Not yours alone,\" Ellac said. He sucked in a deep breath. \"It is over a ten-night since you awoke,\" he said to Riv, \"and closer to a moon has passed since Kol slew Israfil. The world is changing, and we are still here.\" He looked up at the silent forest about them, branches soughing in a cold wind, crows cawing from the shadows of Forn. \"When you awoke, you said we would make things right.\"\n\n\"I did,\" Riv said, remembering that moment, the rage coursing through her at the memory of her mam's death, of Kol's murderous rebellion. \"We will.\"\n\n\"When? How?\" Ellac said bluntly.\n\n\"Soon,\" Riv snarled and burst into the air, wings beating powerfully, the blast of it rocking Ellac in his saddle. She rose quickly into the sky, a tight spiral."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No, not again,\" she heard Jost groan.\n\n\"Back to Fia's cabin,\" Riv shouted down to them, and even as she sped into the wide sky she felt a weight settle upon her shoulders.\n\n\"I will make things right,\" she snarled at the birds and clouds.\n\nI just wish I knew how.\n\nFia's cottage came into sight, a wisp of smoke guiding Riv long before she saw the slight thinning of trees that marked the old woodsman's cabin. Her flight home had not been a good one, in her head. Ellac's prodding had set her to thinking about the future, but also about the past. A myriad of questions swirled through her mind, all of them impossible to answer.\n\nWho is my father?\n\nHer mam and sister had always told Riv that her father's name was Lorin, that he was a White-Wing warrior who had served under Dalmae's hundred. That he had died in battle during a campaign in the south, before Riv was born.\n\nBut that must have been a lie. My father was Ben-Elim. My mam lied tome.\n\nShe felt abloom of rage at that thought, born of hurt, but frustrated and shame-tinged as well. Frustrated that she could never ask her mam the truth of it, and ashamed for feeling such anger towards her mother, who had died trying to protect her.\n\nBut she lied tome.\n\nDid Aphra know? Perhaps, she was no bairn when I was born, already seventeen summers and a warrior in the White-Wings herself. Has she lied tome my whole life, too?\n\nRiv pushed that thought away. All her life she had idolized her sister, respected her as the pinnacle of what she dreamed of becoming: a warrior, a leader, wise, respected and loved by all within her command."},{"from":"human","value":"Aphra, my sister, where are you now?"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Did you fight Kol? Are you languishing in a dungeon, or is your head on a spike? Do you need me?\n\nA glance over her shoulder as she swept into her descent showed Bleda and the others riding close behind her.\n\nRiv landed in a swirl of fallen leaves and forest litter, stood therein silence as the leaves settled about her.\n\nA timber cabin sat there, half-wrapped in ivy, and about her were scores of small, stone-built cairns, the burial ground of her kin, of the countless half-breeds born during the last hundred years to Kol and the other Ben-Elim loyal to him. A terrible secret silenced by death.\n\nSilenced by murder.\n\nAnd that is what should have happened tome. My mam must have kept my birth hidden, somehow, or I would have been executed and buried alongside these little ones.\n\nWhen Riv had first seen the child-sized cairns she had thought the deaths had happened naturally, during birth. Fia had told her differently: that the Ben-Elim insisted on their offspring being left to die, their dirty little secrets hidden beneath cairns of stones.\n\nThe injustice of it set red spots of rage dancing before her eyes. With a deep breath, she mastered it, mostly.\n\nFia strode out onto the wooden porch and raised a hand in greeting. She was tall and fair-haired, and also a White-Wing, weapon-wise and as tough as they came, second in command to Aphra, Riv's sister. She held a baby close to her chest, a boy, and he was the reason that Fia was here, why she had left the White-Wings and was hiding out herein the wild snarl of Forn Forest.\n\nBecause that baby in her arms is a half-breed, just like me, and Fia has chosen life for him, not death and a cold stone grave."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv looked around her, taking in the cabin and moss-covered graves.\n\nHow many have come hereon Kol's orders, to kill the seed he or his comrades have sown in so many bellies? Fia was just one more in along list. Her baby is supposed to be in a hole in the ground by now.\n\nRiv smiled at Fia, proud of her courage and strength to defy the Ben-Elim. That was no small task fora White-Wing of Drassil. The Ben-Elim were considered all-wise and powerful, treated almost like gods, respected and adored. Not so long ago the thought of defying them would have felt inconceivable to Riv, a terrible crime.\n\nI don't feel like that anymore.\n\nThe thud of hooves as Bleda and the others cantered into the glade.\n\n\"It's time to talk,\" Riv said to Fia as the dozen riders dismounted.\n\n\"We cannot stay here forever,\" Ellac said.\n\nRiv, Bleda, Fia, Jost, Vald and Ellac were sitting upon logs in a loose circle between the cabin and the cairns. Bleda's Sirak guards were either tending to the horses or lurking in the shadows, ever vigilant.\n\n\"We are safe here,\" Fia said.\n\n\"How can you be sure?\" Ellac asked. \"If you are here, then surely the Ben-Elim must know of it.\"\n\n\"I have told you before,\" Fia said impatiently. \"The Ben-Elim do not know of this place. They are too high and mighty to wish to know the details of what happens here, or even where here is. They only tell us to leave Drassil before any sign of our babies show, and to return when...\" She glanced at the small graves."},{"from":"human","value":"\"So how did you know to come here, then?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ellac said.\n\n\"It is a secret amongst us White-Wings. The ones who...\"\n\n\"Consort with Ben-Elim,\" Ellac finished for her.\n\nThat is why Aphra told Bleda to bring me here, Riv thought. A secret place, known only to her and a handful of others.\n\nBut what if Aphra is being put to the question... tortured?\n\n\"Aye,\" Fia nodded curtly.\n\n\"Huh,\" Ellac grunted. \"Even so, we cannot stay here forever.\" His eyes fixed on Riv.\n\n\"I know,\" Riv muttered.\n\n\"Away from here history is being made; the world is changing.\"\n\nFor the worst, I don't doubt.\n\n\"I said I would make things right,\" Riv said, and she meant it, her words rising on a swell of anger.\n\n\"But what does that even mean?\" Jost asked. \"What is right?\"\n\n\"And once you've figured that out, how do we do it?\" Vald put in.\n\nThose are the questions I've been asking myself, a thousand times a day.\n\n\"It seems tome that you should bethinking more on how you are going to survive the next moon,\" Ellac said. When Riv didn't answer, he continued, \"I am old and have no use for long words and fine-flowered sentences. I will speak the truth as I see it.\"\n\n\"I've gathered that,\" Riv grunted. \"Goon, then.\"\n\n\"We are too few to fight the Ben-Elim. And I am thinking you will find it hard to be making new friends anywhere within the boundaries of the Land of the Faithful. The Lore of Elyon-the Lore that you have lived by, and that rules this land-declares you an abomination, fit only for the executioner's axe. Am I wrong?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"An abomination. Riv felt a chill shiver through her-part shame that not so long ago she would readily have called for the execution of any Ben-Elim or Kadoshim half-breed. She had believed Elyon's Lore unquestioningly.\n\nAnd now I find that I am one of those half-breeds. Am Ian abomination? Do I deserve to be slaughtered like a feast-bull? Is my blood polluted, corrupted?\n\n\"Careful.\" Vald growled, resting a hand upon the hilt of his short-sword. \"That's my friend you're calling an abomination.\"\n\n\"Are you an idiot?\" Ellac snapped back, staring flatly at Vald. \"I am not calling her that. Your Book of Elyon calls her that.\" He paused, looked from Vald to Riv. \"A person is made by their heart and their wits.\" He touched his one hand to his chest and then to his temple. \"And by the deeds that they do. Their choices. Not whether they have pale skin or dark skin, wings or no wings. One hand or two.\" A twitch of a smile threatened to crack his cold-face. He looked Riv up and down. \"I like your wings, maybe even wish I had some of my own.\"\n\nRiv found herself liking Old Ellac.\n\n\"You are right,\" Fia said, \"Riv is named as an abomination by Elyon's Lore, as is my son.\" She hugged her baby more tightly to her chest.\n\n\"So we are surrounded by a thousand leagues filled with those who would see you dead,\" Ellac said.\n\n\"Sounds about right,\" Riv acknowledged.\n\n\"We could take you to Arcona,\" Ellac said. \"The Sirak would give you safe harbour.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv looked at Bleda and he nodded.\n\nThis is his idea. Bleda must have talked of it to Ellac. They would take me to their homeland, put me under the protection of their Clan. They must know that would start a war. We were all there when the Ben-Elim crushed the Sirak, putting their heel upon the neck of Bleda's people. Riv felt a rush of emotion, that Bleda would risk so much for her, for their friendship. And Ellac obeys his wish. A loyal shieldman indeed.\n\n\"What, and invite a war with the Ben-Elim?\" Riv snorted. \"We all remember how that ended last time.\"\n\n\"We have learned from the past,\" Ellac said. \"We will not be so easily defeated next time.\"\n\nNext time. Does he know something I don't?\n\nRiv sucked in along breath, thinking over his words.\n\n\"I could not do that. Would not,\" she said. \"Win or lose in a war against the Ben-Elim, many of your kin would die. They will not die for me. I'll not have that on my shoulders, too.\"\n\nWhat should I do? All my life I have obeyed orders, followed where I've been led, my heart's desire to be a White-Wing, to do the bidding of Elyon's Lore and the Ben-Elim. Following, obeying, is so much easier than choosing, than determining what is right.\n\nWhat should I do?\n\nShe felt a frustrated anger bubbling, wanted to scream with it, but settled for grinding her teeth instead.\n\nWhat are my options? To run, to Arcona or somewhere else, to live a life in hiding? And what of my friends, of Bleda, Vald and Jost? Would they run with me? Should I let them? Wouldn't that be condemning them to a lifetime of misery? Should I choose to go back to Kol, swallow my pride and ask his forgiveness for the sake of my friends. Perhaps he has changed, now he is safe from Israfil's judgement."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv's mind was filled with an image of her mother lying in the dirt a handspan from Riv, blood trickling from her mouth, eyes empty, Kol standing over her, his blade red.\n\n\"No,\" Riv snarled, all thoughts of running, hiding or begging forgiveness evaporating in the flames of her anger. \"I will not run, I will not cower in hiding here, and I will not crawl back to Kol. He slew my mother.\" The long years of obedience to Elyon's Lore and the Ben-Elim were snuffed out by one deed. And suddenly it all fell into place, the answer clear as her friends before her.\n\nKol must die.\n\n\"Kol is a poison that must be cutout. I'm going to kill him, and then I'll see what has changed with Israfil's death.\" She stood, a ripple of her wings, as if she intended to go and carryout her words then and there.\n\nAnd there is another reason I must go back to Drassil. To find Aphra, to save her, if she still lives, and if I can.\n\nAnd to ask her if she knows who my father is.\n\nShe looked at her friends sitting around her. \"I'm not asking you to join me. I don't want you to; the only death I wanton my hands is Kol's.\"\n\nJost and Vald shared a look. Riv saw on their faces what was going through their minds: the ties of friendship, conflicting loyalties tugging indifferent directions.\n\nThey have spent their whole lives dreaming of becoming White-Wings, just like me. The thought of striking one of the Ben-Elim, openly talking about killing them, it would have been unthinkable a moon ago. And they have much less to lose than I. They don't have wings, will not be spat upon and executed as an abomination."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Her gaze shifted to Bleda, who was sat staring at the ground.\n\nHe is award of the Ben-Elim, held as surety for his Clan's obedience. It may already be too late for him, by his act of killing Adonai, but there is still a chance that he could make things right with the Ben-Elim and avoid dragging his people into a war they could not win.\n\nI will go alone.\n\nBleda stood, eyes meeting hers.\n\n\"I'm coming with you.\"\n\n\"No,\" Riv said. \"It is too dangerous.\"\n\nBleda blinked at that, a look of pain momentarily sweeping aside his cold-face, as if Riv had slapped him.\n\n\"I am not afraid,\" he said.\n\n\"I don't think you are,\" Riv said, \"it is I who am afraid. I fear for you. For all of you. I will not have your deaths on my conscience. I will do this alone.\"\n\n\"You do not have the exclusive right of vengeance,\" Bleda said. \"Kol slew my brother and sister, threw their heads at my feet.\" He closed his eyes a moment. \"Even if you were not my friend, we have a common enemy in Kol. We are bound by that.\"\n\n\"And don't think we'd just let you go flying off into danger without us,\" Jost said, rising alongside Bleda.\n\n\"Aye. We are closer than kin,\" Vald said. \"Riv, the winged shieldmaiden. You've guarded my back more times than I can count.\"\n\nVald and Jost stood, a statement.\n\n\"I've no love for Kol,\" Fia said, standing with them. \"He would have had me murder my bairn and bury him here.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I follow my prince,\" Ellac said, though he did not stand.\n\nRiv stared at them all, emotions swirling through her like a winter storm. Love, fear, relief, worry.\n\nFootfalls thudded in the forest litter and one of Bleda's guards appeared from the shadows.\n\n\"People approach us,\" he hissed, an arrow loosely nocked at his bow. \"One has left them, is coming this way. A woman, a White-Wing.\"\n\nA woman.\n\nThey all stood, Riv staring at the Sirak warrior. Fia burst into motion, running to the cabin.\n\n\"Shall I kill her?\" the Sirak asked Bleda.\n\n\"No,\" Riv hissed, fear and hope flickering in her belly. Bleda gestured for the warrior to hold.\n\nRiv waited a score of breaths, then a score more, tense as a bowstring.\n\nNow another figure was stepping from the shadows, a woman, short-cropped dark hair, wrapped in a bearskin cloak, beneath it a black cuirass with white wings embossed upon it.\n\n\"Aphra. Thank Elyon you live,\" Riv said, taking a few steps towards her sister.\n\nSomething in Aphra's eyes made Riv stop.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" Aphra said.\n\nAnd then shadows swept across the glade, the sound of beating wings, and Ben-Elim were swooping from the sky."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha stared at the blood on her hands.\n\nShe was sitting at the end of a pier, feet dangling, the slate-grey waters of Starstone Lake lapping beneath her boots. A sword rested across her knees, its hilt plain and leather-bound, sweat-stained, the blade a dull black beneath the gore crusted upon it.\n\nSnow was falling, gentle as a sigh, flakes settling upon her stained hands. She watched as the snowflakes melted, fascinated as the congealed mess on her palm softened and leaked into each snowflake, spreading like a dark poison through pure white veins.\n\n\"Blood on the snow,\" Fritha whispered.\n\nA memory of screams filled her head, terror and pain, of shouting and cries for help. A tumbling cascade of memories racked her and she screwed her eyes shut, but still saw her newborn daughter's face looking up at her, pale and blood-spattered, eyes glazing. Fritha groaned and hunched over, rocking, clasping the sword in her lap as if it were the fragile, lifeless bundle she had cradled on that dread day.\n\nThe day her life had changed.\n\n\"No,\" she snarled, and forced herself to sit straight and still. With a grimace, she pushed the memory back into the dark places of her mind. She ran a hand across her head, the stubble-growth of her shaved hair rough on her palm. With the edge of her snow-damp cloak, she scrubbed frenetically at the blood on the blade of the sword upon her lap, as if she were attempting to scour and erase that unspeakable moment from her memory.\n\nIt didn't work. Nothing ever worked.\n\nHeavy footsteps on the wooden quay sent tremors through Fritha's body. They grew louder and stopped behind her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Gulla calls for you,\" a voice said, deep and rumbling.\n\nFritha ceased her scrubbing, and with a deep, shuddering breath she sheathed the sword, then stood slowly and turned to face the giant, Gunil.\n\nHe towered over her, head and shoulders larger than the tallest man, amass of leather and fur, a war-hammer slung across one shoulder. He bore the scars of last night's battle: along, scabbing cut across his angular forehead and numerous rents in his leather armour. One shoulder was bandaged, his left arm slumped, fresh blood still seeping into the linen. It was a grievous wound, Fritha knew, for she had tended it, cleaned and packed it with honey and yarrow, then seared it with a white-hot knife. Sig the giantess, warrior and champion of the Order of the Bright Star, had given Gunil the wound, a spear cast that would have killed him had it been half a handspan lower.\n\n\"How is it?\" Fritha asked.\n\n\"A wound,\" Gunil grated, as if it were only a scratch, not a hole almost the size of Fritha's fist. \"I live.\" The giant shrugged, a ripple of muscle. Fora heartbeat his eyes flared, a hint of pain-tinged madness glimmering deep within, suggesting at a wildness that scared even Fritha, but then it was gone.\n\n\"Gulla,\" Gunil repeated to her.\n\nFritha nodded, pulled her bearskin cloak tighter about her shoulders and strode past him, boots crunching on the shingle beach as she made her way towards the mining complex built on the lake's shore.\n\nDawn was recently come, a pale gleam behind thick cloud that blanketed the sky. The ground was muffled in snow, to Fritha's right a row of open-fronted, barn-like buildings ranged in a line. The sound of hammering and sawing echoed. To her left a great pyre of heaped driftwood. A body lay upon the pile, a figure stood beside it, broad and squat, leathery wings furled tight across a muscled back. It was Morn, half-breed daughter of Gulla, new Lord of the Kadoshim."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha's eyes lingered on the creature of two worlds: part human, part Kadoshim. Her dark hair was shaved short to her scalp, just as Fritha's and the secret many that followed the Kadoshim. Morn's head was bowed, but Fritha could seethe streaks that tears had channelled through the blood and grime thick upon her face. Her brother, Ulfang, lay upon the piled wood, his wings wrapped around him, a sword resting upon his chest. He had been slain during the fighting last night, by Drem. Many died last night, including Sig. Fritha felt a twist in her belly at the thought of the giant, a measure of pride that her hand had dealt Sig her deathblow.\n\nSig, vaunted champion of the Bright Star, just food for crows now, because of me.\n\nFritha had stared into Sig's eyes as she'd slowly thrust her blade deep, seen the pain, the flutter of life as it had left the giant. But the death had not satisfied Fritha as she had hoped it would; it had done little to fill the gaping hole inside her that screamed to be slaked with death and torment. Perhaps it was the way the giant had died that had marred Fritha's pleasure-not begging or screaming. Sig's last words had been a defiance, even if they were little more than a whispered breath upon her lips.\n\n\"Truth and courage,\" Fritha repeated to herself, then spat on the snow as if the very words tasted foul.\n\nAll part of the Great Lie.\n\nMorn thrust a flaming torch into the pyre, the falling snow hissed and steamed as tongues of fire crackled and writhed. Smoke billowed, in heartbeats the stench of burning wood and flesh mingled, swirling about the lakeshore, and Morn lifted her head and howled her grief to the snow-laden sky."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\\nAuthor: John Gwynne\\nTitle: A Time of Blood\\nChapter: 3\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Cheren Horse Clan\\n\\nJin-daughter of Uldin, King of the Cheren. Award of the Ben-Elim, raised in Drassil. Betrothed to Bleda of the Sirak Clan.\\n\\nUldin-King of the Cheren and father to Jin.\\n\\nGerel-Jin's oathsworn guard.\\n\\nSirak Horse Clan\\n\\nBleda-son of Erdene, Queen of the Sirak. Award of the Ben-Elim, raised in Drassil. Betrothed to Jin of the Cheren Clan.\\n\\nEllac-A one-handed warrior of the Sirak. Bleda's guard.\\n\\nErdene-Queen of the Sirak. Mother of Bleda.\\n\\nMirim-oathsworn guard of Bleda.\\n\\nRuga-oathsworn guard of Bleda.\\n\\nTuld-oathsworn guard of Bleda.\\n\\nYul-first-sword of Erdene.\\n\\nDrem-a trapper of the Desolation. Son of Olin.\\n\\nHildith-member of Kergard's Assembly. Owner of a mead-hall.\\n\\nAlcyon-a giant who resides in Drassil.\\n\\nAphra-sister of Riv. A White-Wing of Drassil, captain of a hundred.\\n\\nAvi-Fia's son.\\n\\nBalur One-Eye-father to Ethlinn, Queen of the Giants. He resides in Drassil.\\n\\nErt-veteran sword master of Drassil. Trainer of the White-Wings.\\n\\nEthlinn-Queen of the Giants. Daughter of Balur One-Eye.\\n\\nFia-a White-Wing of Drassil.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jost-a White-Wing of Drassil.\\n\\nLorina-a White-Wing of Drassil and captain of a hundred.\\n\\nRiv-sister to Aphra. A training White-Wing.\\n\\nSorch-a White-Wing of Drassil.\\n\\nVald-a White-Wing of Drassil.\\n\\nByrne-the High Captain of Dun Seren. A descendant of Cywen and Veradis.\\n\\nCullen-a young warrior of Dun Seren. A descendant of Corban and Coralen.\\n\\nCure-title for the captain of Dun Seren's healing school.\\n\\nFen-one of Keld's wolven-hounds.\\n\\nFlick-a talking crow of Dun Seren.\\n\\nGrack-one of Stepor's wolven-hounds.\\n\\nHammer-a giant bear.\\n\\nKill-title for the captain of Dun Seren's warrior school.\\n\\nKeld-a warrior and huntsman of Dun Seren.\\n\\nRab-a white talking crow of Dun Seren.\\n\\nRalla-one of Stepor's wolven-hounds.\\n\\nShar-Jehar warrior.\\n\\nStepor-a warrior and huntsman of Dun Seren.\\n\\nTain-the crow master of Dun Seren. Son of Alcyon.\\n\\nUtul-Jehar warrior. Captain of Balara's garrison.\\n\\nVaran-a giant of Dun Seren.\\n\\nHadran-loyal to Kol. Riv's guardian.\\n\\nKamael-from the garrison of Ripa, supporter of Sariel.\\n\\nKol-one of the Ben-Elim of Drassil.\\n\\nMeical-once High Captain of the Ben-Elim. Now frozen in starstone metal, sealed with Asroth in Drassil.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sariel-Lord of the Ben-Elim garrison at Ripa.\\n\\nArn-acolyte of Gulla, from Fritha's crew.\\n\\nAsroth-Lord of the Kadoshim. Frozen within starstone metal in the Great Hall of Drassil.\\n\\nClaw-Gunil's giant bear.\\n\\nElise-acolyte of Gulla, daughter of Arn.\\n\\nGulla-High Captain of the Kadoshim.\\n\\nMorn-a half-breed Kadoshim. Daughter of Gulla.\\n\\nFritha-priestess and captain of the Kadoshim's covens.\\n\\nGunil-a giant, brother of Varan.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Dark blood drank he, from the demon welling\\\"\\n\\nVölsunga Saga\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Year 138 of the Age of Lore, Wolven's Moon\\n\\nDrem looked up from his horse's steady gait. Through the stark branches above he glimpsed the sun sinking into the mountains ahead, a pale glow behind snow cloud and leafless branches. Ina matter of heartbeats twilight was settling upon them like a shroud.\\n\\nWe must stop soon, else the horses risk snaring a leg.\\n\\nHe glanced to his right, saw Cullen riding with his cloak pulled high, face hidden in shadow. Ahead of them, Keld looked as if he had no thought for stopping, the scarred huntsman loping through the trees much like his wolven-hound, Fen.\\n\\nGrief drives him, and hate.\\n\\nAnd fear, if he is human.\\n\\nDrem blinked, trying to dispel the image of Gulla the Kadoshim, twitching and jerking upon the blood-soaked table in the mine, then rising transformed, teeth long and gleaming, eyes red as coals.\\n\\nIt felt like a dream, no, a nightmare, even though it had been less than a day and night since it happened. Too-vivid memories of the battle at the mine leaped out in Drem's mind like rabid beasts: images of Gulla sinking his teeth deep into the throat of one of his acolytes, of feral things, part man, part beast, snarling, clawing, of winged half-breeds screaming their malice, of Fritha, beautiful and cold as the ice-laden forest, black sword in her fist. And Sig the giantess, friend to his father.\\n\\nFriend tome.\\n\\nAnd now she is dead. Because of me.\\n\\nA restless anxiety was growing within him. So much had happened in so short a time, giving him little chance to feel anything; instead he had simply reacted, mostly just trying to stay alive. Now, though, they had been travelling all night and most of the day, and he had had time to think.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"So much change. I wish I was with Da, that we were trapping together, out in the Bonefells, just the two of us. And now he's gone as well.\\n\\nAs dangerous as that lifestyle had been, it was familiar to Drem, an old cloak, and it had fitted him well. All of this was so different, so new. He felt agitated, like when his legs ached and he just needed to getup and walk around, except that he couldn't do anything hereto help himself; there was noway he could return to the familiar that felt so comforting to him.\\n\\nHis hand crept to his neck, looking for the steady reassurance of his pulse.\\n\\nOne, two, three, he began to count.\\n\\n\\\"Camp,\\\" Keld said as he emerged from the darkness, raising an arm and smashing a hole in a frozen stream with the butt of his spear.\\n\\nA good spot, Drem thought, noting the spread of trees about them, the stream, huge boulders to the right, sheltering them from the cold wind that hissed out of the Bonefells, as well as providing a measure of protection from predators.\\n\\nOn two legs or four.\\n\\nIn silence they set to making camp. Cullen took the horses, hobbling them, removing saddles and rubbing them down. Drem found a spot fora fire and, drawing his hand-axe from his belt, began chopping through the thick rind of ice, then scooping away the softer snow until he reached the frozen ground beneath. He gathered stones, chopped kindling from a dead lightning-blasted oak and prepared a small fire. Before he set to lighting it, he trimmed thin branches from a willow beside the stream, spent awhile weaving them into a latticed fence, then staked it along one side of the fire-pit he'd dug. A screen against any eyes that might be following them from the east.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Some tinder from a pouch at his belt, flint and striking iron for sparks, some cold breath upon it and then fragile flames were clawing in the snow, hissing and hungry.\\n\\nA shaking of the ground made Drem lookup, one hand reaching for the bone-hilted seax at his belt. A shadow the size of a boulder shifted within the trees, but Drem's grip relaxed as Hammer, the giant bear, lumbered into their small clearing.\\n\\nHammer was Sig's battle-bear and had borne them from last night's chaos, carrying Drem, Keld and Cullen away, crashing through tree and shrub, no thought or time for careful steps or hiding their passage, just a driving knowledge that they had to escape, to put as much distance as possible between them and Gulla.\\n\\nHammer had run to exhaustion, bringing them back to Drem's hold in less than half the time it would have taken them on horseback. There they had dismounted, removed the saddle, harness and battered mail shirt from Hammer's body, packing it away in paniers and saddlebags. They'd tended to the wounded bear and fed her some foul concoction that Keld said was called brot, then led Hammer and fresh horses into the darkness, knowing they could not wait until dawn.\\n\\nThey had agreed to head west, using the cover of the forest to screen them from eyes in the skies, avoiding the town of Kergard, and then to turn south when they reached the western rim of the Bonefells. Drem had voiced his worry for the townspeople of Kergard but knew there was little they could do to help them. No one in the town had believed him before, and besides, he did not know if there was anyone in Kergard left to save. To Drem's horror, scores of the townsfolk had been at the mine, secret acolytes of the Kadoshim, including Ulf the tanner, a man Drem had once thought of as a friend.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"So, they had committed themselves to speed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Pursuit from the mine was likely, and they had to use every moment given them to reach Dun Seren and the Order of the Bright Star.\\n\\nDrem had led to begin with, his knowledge of the terrain making him the obvious choice to steer them through the darkness. With the rising of a pale sun they had mounted their horses and Keld had taken point, his wolven-hound Fen scouting ahead. Hammer had followed them, grumbling doleful growls, taking herself deeper into the woods, though never quite out of sound or sight.\\n\\nShe feels grief for Sig, just like Cullen and Keld. More, maybe. They were rider and mount for more years than Cullen has drawn breath. Probably longer than Keld has lived, too.\\n\\nKeld strode to the bear, unbuckled the saddlebags she was carrying, then checked over her wounds and patted her neck. She rubbed her huge head against the huntsman, almost knocking him from his feet.\\n\\n\\\"Ah, lass, we miss her, too,\\\" Keld muttered, tugging on one of the bear's ears. She seemed to like it, a mournful rumble escaping her throat.\\n\\nFen loped into the clearing, eyes glowing in the firelight. The slate-greyhound dropped a hare at Keld's feet.\\n\\n\\\"A hot meal for supper, then. Thank the stars, I've had enough of brot,\\\" Cullen said, his obvious pleasure at the thought infectious.\\n\\nKeld skinned and gutted the hare and set it on a spit over the fire, fat dripping and hissing. A flapping of wings came from above as a white crow descended from the branches, landing on Cullen's shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"I was wondering where you were, Rab,\\\" Cullen said to the crow.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Rab watching, protecting friends,\\\" Rab squawked, then hopped from Cullen's shoulder to the pile of guts and offal that had been stripped from the hare. He pecked noisily.\\n\\n\\\"But the love of slime and foul things drew you back to us,\\\" Cullen observed.\\n\\n\\\"All must eat,\\\" the bird croaked as it swallowed an eyeball.\\n\\n\\\"Fair point,\\\" Cullen said.\\n\\nThe dead can't eat, Drem thought, his mind filling with his father, Olin, and Sig, grief a wave rising within him, whipped high by the winds of exhaustion. His body ached, everywhere, a thousand cuts and bruises from the fight at the mine, and from before that. He raised a hand to his throat, rubbed at the scar where he'd been hung from a tree in his courtyard, twice. A memory of Fritha's face. Sweet, kind Fritha, with her blue eyes and freckles, a face he had trusted. Thought he'd begun to love.\\n\\nHe didn't feel like that now.\\n\\nI hate her, will see her dead for what she's done.\\n\\nA deep anger uncoiled in his chest, buried deep beneath the pain of loss and exhaustion of the last few ten-nights, distant but never gone. Much of the anger was aimed at himself, at his stupidity for staying, for the choices he'd made, choices that had led to his father's death, the loss of the Starstone Sword, the death of Sig.\\n\\nThe enormity of it all threatened to engulf him.\\n\\n\\\"Drem, catch,\\\" a voice called out, snapping him from his reverie. Cullen had thrown something to him. Instinctively, Drem caught it, along bundle. It was his sword, still in its scabbard and belt.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"My father's sword, mine now. He looked at the worn leather hilt and scabbard, drew it a little, stared at the four-pointed star carved into the blade, just below where it met the cross-guard. My da, a warrior of the Order of the Bright Star.\\n\\nSo much of his world had changed in such a short time; he was still reeling upon the shifting ground of his life.\\n\\n\\\"Come on,\\\" Cullen said, drawing his own sword from the scabbard at his hip.\\n\\n\\\"What, are they near?\\\" Drem asked, panic whispering in his belly as his eyes searched the shadows.\\n\\n\\\"No, lad,\\\" Cullen said with a grin, though he was younger than Drem. \\\"The sword dance, while our supper's cooking.\\\" He paused, looked more serious fora moment. \\\"I've known grief,\\\" he said, \\\"know what it can do to you, here.\\\" He tapped a finger to his temple. \\\"I can see it in you now. The sword dance always helped me, mayhap it'll help you, too.\\\"\\n\\nThe sword dance. Traditional training for the Order. Drem had rarely touched a sword in his twenty-one summers of life. While a trapper's life required being intimately accustomed to the use of spear, knife and axe in order to survive in the wild, a sword was a warrior's weapon, used to fight other warriors. There weren't many warriors to be found in the great wild of the Desolation and Bonefells. Only four or five moons had passed since Olin had first introduced Drem to a sword and begun to teach him the rudiments of its use. Since then Drem had killed with it. A terrible knowledge, one that he felt deep in his bones, an aching sadness that weighed upon him. Drem hated to fight, he disliked the use of violence. But these were violent times, and as his da had said, better to be the one that lives than the one that dies.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"With a sigh, Drem followed Cullen to a clear space. Keld looked up from the fire-pit to watch them.\\n\\n\\\"Stooping falcon,\\\" Cullen said, raising his sword two-handed above his head.\\n\\nDrem drew his own blade, dropping the scabbard in the snow, sending long, distended shadows stretching across the glade.\\n\\nStooping falcon, he heard his father's voice whisper in his head.\\n\\nDrem licked grease from his fingers; the weight of a hot meal in his belly spread some warmth through him. He blew along breath out, savouring the feeling. Beside him Cullen smacked his lips and Keld threw a bone to Fen, who plucked it from the air and crunched it into splinters.\\n\\n\\\"I can't believe Sig's gone,\\\" Cullen whispered, staring at the flames. Drem saw a tear cutting a line through the dirt and grime on Cullen's face. \\\"All my life she's seemed immortal, solid as the stone and timber of Dun Seren. She was a legend even before joining with my great-grandfather to found the Order.\\\" He bowed his head.\\n\\nKeld grunted something as he sat with a whetstone, five or six knives laid out before him, as well as three hand-axes and his sword.\\n\\n\\\"Poor Sig,\\\" Rab cawed mournfully from a branch above them.\\n\\n\\\"I'll take Gulla's head and drink mead from his boiled skull while I stand upon a mound of his dead half-breeds and acolytes,\\\" Cullen snarled. Drem was learning that Cullen was not one to hide his feelings, whatever they were.\\n\\n\\\"Rab will peck Gulla's other eye out,\\\" Rab cawed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Cullen smiled up at the white crow.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, lad, Sig was the best of us,\\\" Keld said quietly. \\\"More than that, she was my friend, saved my life more times than I can remember.\\\" He paused and spat on the fire. \\\"She'll be sorely missed.\\\" A silence fell amongst them, filled with the grate of whetstone on steel, the crackling of flames, the creak and scrape of branches. \\\"You'll have your vengeance, my friend,\\\" Keld said, eyes fixed on the flames of the fire. Drem didn't think that the huntsman was talking to him or Cullen.\\n\\n\\\"I'm sorry,\\\" Drem whispered.\\n\\nKeld and Cullen just stared at Drem.\\n\\n\\\"For sending my message to Dun Seren, bringing both of you and Sig here.\\\" He put his head in his hands. \\\"I wish it had been me that died, not Sig. Wish I'd left when my da said we should run, wish I'd never laid eyes on Fritha. If not for me, my father would still be alive, Sig, too.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You didn't kill Olin or Sig,\\\" Keld grunted. \\\"It was that winged bastard Gulla and his brood.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But if-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Keld snapped. \\\"Everything's easy looking back at the path you've trod, and it's a fool's game to try.\\\" He looked up from the blade in his lap, eyes fixing Drem. There was something wild in his gaze, untamed. \\\"You've no guilt or shame in this, Drem. Think on this: what would be happening now if we hadn't witnessed that foul ceremony last night?\\\"\\n\\nDrem frowned, thinking about that. \\\"Gulla would be transformed, still. A Revenant, Fritha called him.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They wouldn't be needing to spend half a day burying their dead, or torching them, and that's a fact,\\\" Cullen said.\\n\\n\\\"Cullen and Keld are mighty warriors,\\\" Rab muttered. \\\"And Drem,\\\" the crow added, bobbing his head at Drem.\\n\\nIs that crow trying not to hurt my feelings?\\n\\n\\\"Aye, true enough,\\\" Keld agreed. \\\"Gulla turned some of his acolytes into the same corruption as him,\\\" he said thoughtfully. \\\"This is part of the Kadoshim's plan, part of the Long War. So, I'll ask you again, Drem, what would be happening now?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He'd be raising his army,\\\" Drem told them. \\\"Sig said the Kadoshim are too few to win the war against the Ben-Elim, that they need numbers, warriors.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's right,\\\" Keld said, \\\"and their acolytes are not enough. They've been experimenting at that mine, using dark magic to make those Feral beast-men, and now these new creatures, Revenants. Once Gulla has what he needs, he'll fall upon the Banished Lands like a plague.\\\"\\n\\nDrem shook his head. Part of him had known this, but in the madness of battle, the grief at losing Sig and the following exhaustion of flight, the weight of it had not settled in his mind. It was starting to make sense now.\\n\\n\\\"Without you, we would not have known anything about it,\\\" Cullen said, squeezing Drem's shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Aye. Long have we searched for Gulla, High Captain of the Kadoshim. He is second only to Asroth, and you led us to him. You've given mankind a chance,\\\" Keld said. \\\"Course, they may still catch us and leave us bleeding out in the snow, or those Feral things might end up gnawing on our bones and sucking out our marrows, though I'll take a few of them with us before I'll let that happen.\\\" Keld patted his axe lovingly, face twisted in a maniacal grin. \\\"But at least we have a chance now, and that's because of you. Olin would be proud.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Drem felt a flare of warmth in his chest at that, though edged with the grief that every memory of his da brought with it.\\n\\n\\\"Though he wouldn't be so proud of that,\\\" Keld said, nodding at Drem's seax.\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" Drem said, putting a hand on the bone-hilted knife at his belt.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, dear Elyon above,\\\" Cullen said.\\n\\n\\\"Can you even take it from its scabbard?\\\" Keld asked.\\n\\nDrem tried, but it was stuck. He looked closer, saw blood had crusted black on the scabbard, thick where the bone hilt met leather. He tugged and twisted the seax free. It was a big knife, more like a short-sword, as long as his forearm, the blade thick and single-edged, curving on the sharp side to a tapered point.\\n\\n\\\"Ach,\\\" Keld said with a disgusted twist of his lips. \\\"You should have a ten-night on latrine duty at Dun Seren for that.\\\"\\n\\nShamefaced, Drem set to scouring the blade clean, taking a pumice stone and oil from a pouch on his belt. There were new notches in the blade, testament to the battle at the mine. Blood had congealed in the pits of the steel. Drem scraped it away, scrubbing hard with the pumice.\\n\\n\\\"Can I see that?\\\" Cullen asked beside him.\\n\\nDrem passed him the seax. The hilt was worn and smooth from Drem's grip, a perfect fit for his fist.\\n\\nCullen hefted the weapon, noting the weight, gave it a twirl in his fist, firelight gleaming red. Then he looked closer at the blade, with Keld leaning in as well. Cullen passed the seax to the huntsman.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Did Olin forge this?\\\" Keld asked.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, he did,\\\" Drem said. He remembered his da in the smithy at Kergard during their first winter in the Desolation. That had been five years ago.\\n\\nKeld drew his thumb along the blade's edge, blood welled. He let a few drops land on the flat and smeared them in. \\\"Nochtann,\\\" he said, and the steel of the blade seemed to shimmer and ripple.\\n\\nDrem blinked; carved runes were winking into life along the blade. He leaned forwards, staring.\\n\\n\\\"Where did they come from?\\\" Drem muttered.\\n\\n\\\"They've always been there.\\\" Cullen smiled.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, lad,\\\" Keld said. \\\"Olin put them there, when he forged it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How? Why have I never seen them?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We learn more than swordcraft at Dun Seren,\\\" Keld said with a wink.\\n\\n\\\"I haven't, yet,\\\" Cullen said sullenly.\\n\\nDrem shook his head. He'd had a lotto come to terms with over the last couple of moons, foremost of which was the fact that there was much more to his da than he had ever known. It still hurt that Olin had kept so much hidden from Drem, but he knew it had been to protect him. Only when he had helped his father forge the Starstone Sword had he seen the depth of Olin's mystery; he'd carved runes and cast spells of power over the new-forged blade. It had been quite a shock.\\n\\n\\\"I've learned my letters, but I can't read that,\\\" Drem said. \\\"I don't understand. What language is it? What does it say?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It's the first tongue,\\\" Keld said, \\\"spoken once by giants and men alike, but now you'd call it Giantish.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It says dilis cosantoir. Faithful protector.\\\"\\n\\nMy da tried to protect me his whole life. And even now, from the grave, his protective hand lingers.\\n\\nDrem felt his eyes mist and, fora moment, almost sensed that his father was sitting beside him at the campfire.\\n\\n\\\"They are more than words,\\\" Keld said. \\\"That blade will never break, and I'm guessing it's never needed much sharpening.\\\" He gave the seax back to Drem.\\n\\n\\\"Now that you mention it, no, it doesn't,\\\" Drem said. He looked at the seax with a sense of wonder, and as he watched, the runes faded and disappeared. He cast his whetstone along its edge a few times, but that was all it needed, then set to cleaning the scabbard of dried blood. After that he worked on the hand-axe at his belt, the misery that had settled upon him during the day's journey a little eased by Keld and Cullen's words, and by the thought of his da.\\n\\nThe three men settled into a companionable silence. Hammer the giant bear sat and then lay down. Within heartbeats she was snoring like an avalanche in the Bonefells.\\n\\n\\\"How long until we reach Dun Seren?\\\" Drem asked.\\n\\nKeld rubbed a handover his newly shaved head, a ruse both the huntsman and Cullen had used to infiltrate the acolytes at the starstone mine.\\n\\n\\\"Took us two ten-nights to get here,\\\" he muttered, \\\"but it'll take us longer going back, using the forests and Bonefells to hide us from anyone tracking.\\\"\\n\\nThe thought of Kadoshim and Feral beast-men sent a shiver through Drem. Last night's fight had a dreamlike quality to it, parts of it blurred and ethereal, other parts too vivid and blood-bright. He shook the thoughts away, fingers reaching to his neck, searching for the drumbeat of his heart, which always gave him a sense of calm.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Whatever it takes, we must get back to Dun Seren,\\\" Keld said. \\\"Our High Captain Byrne must hear of all that's happened. Gulla, Revenants, Feral beasts, a Starstone Sword.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Cullen agreed. \\\"And she must be told about Gunil.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gunil?\\\" Drem said.\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Keld grunted. \\\"The giant that fought for Gulla. He belonged to the Order once, was brother to Varan, the giant lord of the Jotun Clan. Varan was killed over sixteen years ago and Gunil was thought to have been slain, too.\\\" Keld was silent a moment, lost in thought. \\\"Gunil and Sig were... close.\\\"\\n\\nAnd Sig fought him at the mine. That must have hurt her. Drem felt the spark of a cold anger in his gut, another wrong that needed to be put right. He put Gunil on the list of those he would make answer for their deeds.\\n\\n\\\"Why does he fight for Gulla?\\\" Drem asked.\\n\\nKeld shrugged. \\\"He was always... guarded, secretive. But I never suspected him of being a traitor.\\\" He grated his teeth and patted his axe. \\\"It's something he'll have to answer to my axe for.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We have to reach Dun Seren,\\\" Drem said. \\\"We cannot fail.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Keld agreed. \\\"I've been thinking the same thing. Rab, I want you to set wing for Dun Seren. Tell Byrne what has happened, about Sig, and what we've seen. And tell her to send a few swords out to meet us. We'll probably need all the help we can get.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rab can't go,\\\" the crow squawked, sounding horrified. \\\"Rab watching you, Rab protecting you.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And a fine job you've been doing,\\\" Cullen said. \\\"But it's more important that Byrne knows what's happening.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rab know.\\\" The bird's head bobbed. \\\"But Rab not want to leave friends.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Comeback to us when you've spoken to Byrne,\\\" Cullen said. \\\"Lead those she sends to help us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, Rab will bring help,\\\" the crow cawed, sounding somewhat appeased.\\n\\n\\\"Good,\\\" Keld said. \\\"Leave in the morning, as soon as the sunrises.\\\"\\n\\nDrem woke to the gentle sensation of snow falling upon his face. He sat up, pushing off one of the thick cloaks he'd packed when they had stopped briefly at his hold. Dawn was settling about them, darkness shifting to grey. Hammer was gone, and Keld's bed mat was empty, the huntsman nowhere to be seen, but Cullen was curled and snoring beneath a bearskin cloak. Rab was roosting beside the red-haired warrior, his head tucked under awing. As Drem stood and stretched, a myriad of aches clamouring for his attention, the crow poked his head out from under his wing and studied Drem with a bright, intelligent eye.\\n\\n\\\"Rab remember Olin,\\\" the bird said. \\\"Olin kind to Rab.\\\"\\n\\nDrem blinked at that; the thought of his father talking to crows was a strange one.\\n\\nThough it shouldn't be, not after all I've learned of him.\\n\\n\\\"He was kind tome, too,\\\" Drem said.\\n\\nKeld appeared from the trees, his wolven-hound a blurred shadow deeper within the forest.\\n\\n\\\"No sight or smell of any pursuit. Still, we should be away.\\\" Keld nudged Cullen with his boot and tutted. \\\"He's a good lad to have at your back in a scrap, but he'd sleep and snore his way through the world's ending.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I'm wide awake,\\\" Cullen's muffled voice came from beneath his cloak. \\\"Just resting my eyes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rab, you should be for Dun Seren, now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rab go search first, make sure friends are safe from Kadoshim.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye, goon then.\\\"\\n\\nThey broke camp as Rab flew into the canopy above, were saddled and ready to go by the time the white crow returned to them.\\n\\n\\\"Rab see nothing behind,\\\" the bird cawed.\\n\\n\\\"Good,\\\" Keld said. \\\"Be on your way, then.\\\" He looked into the trees behind them, sniffed. \\\"And fly fast.\\\"\\n\\nCullen sat up and threw the crow something-a remnant saved from last night's meal. The crow caught it with a snap of his beak.\\n\\n\\\"Farewell, Rab's friends,\\\" the crow squawked as he flapped into the air, spiralled higher and disappeared through the branches above, the sky a snow-glare beyond.\\n\\n\\\"Let's be off, then,\\\" Keld said.\\n\\nDrem stamped his feet and rubbed his gloved hands together, then climbed into his saddle. With a clink of harness the three men set off into the snow.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv sped through the sky, wings beating, wind ripping tears from her eyes, the joy of it bubbling in her chest. She passed through a bank of cloud, whooping as she overtook a flock of geese.\\n\\nI am free up here, away from the world and its turmoil. Here all is so simple and clean. A moment's thought, and her wings were snapping in tight to her body and suddenly she was looping and diving, away from the clouds and the dull gleam of the sun, down, towards an endless canopy of green. She flew back, towards a range of hills cloaked beneath the immeasurable green of Forn Forest, ancient trees rising up to meet her. A little closer and a gap in the forest became visible, a road growing clearer, upon it small figures on horseback riding towards her.\\n\\nHer sharp eyes counted a dozen riders, amongst them the distinctive shape of her friend, Jost, tall and thin, and not the greatest figure on horseback.\\n\\nHe looks like a sack of grain tied to the saddle. Riv grinned.\\n\\nShe spotted another rider galloping well ahead of the others, a league at least, and Riv's grin widened.\\n\\nBleda.\\n\\nFlying towards him, lower and lower until she skimmed the road, racing her own shadow, the trees of Forn Forest rearing tall either side of her. Bleda called out to her, but his words were lost in the roar of the wind. With a twist of her wings she decelerated and turned, diving into the treeline, the world immediately shifting to shadow. Twisting and turning, spiralling through winter-sparse branches, the muscles in her back aching as she demanded more from her new-found wings, the sharp sensation of scratches opening along her shoulders, one across her cheek. She didn't care, lost in the pounding of her heartbeat, and then with a burst of leaves and twigs and laughter she exploded back onto the road, right in front of Bleda.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He was an expert horseman and reined in, his knees moving, squeezing, bringing his horse out of a gallop as if it were a manoeuvre he practised a dozen times each day before highsun, but even though Riv didn't hear the words she saw the curses spilling from his lips, which made her laugh all the louder.\\n\\nShe hovered above Bleda, grinning as he frowned up at her, his sweat-streaked horse blowing great plumes of air in the cold.\\n\\n\\\"You should not fly so far ahead, it is not safe,\\\" Bleda said.\\n\\n\\\"You should ride faster, then,\\\" Riv answered, still grinning.\\n\\n\\\"Huh.\\\" Bleda snorted and leaned in his saddle, patting his mount's shoulder. \\\"My mare is fast, but she is not the wind.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am, though,\\\" Riv said.\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Bleda agreed, \\\"you areas fast as the wind.\\\" He smiled then, his normally impassive face yielding to the assault of her smiles. \\\"How does it feel to fly so fast? The gallop, it sets my heart free, so to fly as you can...\\\" He shook his head with envy.\\n\\n\\\"It is wonderful,\\\" she agreed, a pulse of her wings as she descended, feet touching gently upon the ground.\\n\\n\\\"You are doing much better,\\\" Bleda commented. \\\"I remember the first time, you almost broke your knees.\\\" He laughed at the memory, swaying in his saddle.\\n\\nIt had hurt; Riv had returned from her first flight, ecstatic from the experience, but she had misjudged the speed of her landing and ended up a crumpled heap on the floor, spikes of pain jolting through her legs. Still, she had had much to come to terms within little time. All her life she had just wanted to be a warrior, to join the elite White-Wings of Drassil and serve the Ben-Elim and their holy cause. With the coming of her wings all had changed, not least the fact that she must be a half-breed, which meant there was a death sentence hanging over her head. None of that dampened the joy of flying, though.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I can understand the joy you feel, and the freedom,\\\" Bleda said, straightening and wiping a tear of laughter from his eye.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"But you should still stay closer. You are not the only one in the Banished Lands with wings. And you have enemies.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do.\\\" Memories of Kol's scarred, handsome face, blond hair bound tight, white wings arching behind him, slaying Israfil, the Lord Protector of the Ben-Elim. Then turning his blade upon Riv's mamas she tried to protect her. Riv could still see her mam's lifeless eyes, glazed and vacant, felt a physical pain in her chest as the image wormed its way through her.\\n\\nI swear I'll take his head.\\n\\n\\\"Even if I flew closer, what could you do, if I were attacked by Ben-Elim in the air?\\\" Riv shrugged.\\n\\nBleda patted the double-curved bow that satin a leather case strapped to his saddle, fingertips brushing the feathers of a bundle of arrows in a quiver harnessed beside the bow.\\n\\n\\\"I can do a lot,\\\" he said, no trace of pride or braggart about him, just a flat statement of the truth.\\n\\nRiv didn't doubt it, having seen him inaction.\\n\\n\\\"I shall fly closer, then,\\\" Riv said with ashy smile and dip of her head. \\\"But, in the meantime, I'm hungry, so let's eat something while we wait for the others.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They were right behind me,\\\" Bleda said, frowning as he twisted in his saddle to look back along the road that snaked its way through the hills.\\n\\n\\\"You were over a league ahead of them.\\\" Riv snorted. \\\"They'll be awhile yet.\\\" She took the bridle of Bleda's mount and led them to a patch of grass on the roadside shaded by towering trees, the ground thick with purple heather and thyme. They rooted through Bleda's saddlebags and sat with a loaf of bread, around of cheese and a skin of cold spring water. A companionable silence settled between them, Riv taking along draught of water and watching Bleda eat.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He broke a small piece of bread from the loaf, set it to one side and pulled a little eating knife from his belt, cutting a slice of cheese and placing it neatly on the bread, then with obvious pleasure ate it. She smiled to herself, thinking how once not so long ago she had thought of Bleda as cold-faced and cold-hearted, his dark skin and almond-shaped eyes making him seem almost a different species. Now she hardly noticed any of that, except to think how pleasant he was to look at.\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" Bleda said, feeling Riv's gaze.\\n\\n\\\"You look like you're enjoying that.\\\" She shivered and with a rustle of feathers wrapped her wings about her.\\n\\nThese things have more than one use, she thought, though they do take a bit of getting used to. She shifted her weight, releasing one wingtip that had been stuck beneath her backside.\\n\\n\\\"It's good,\\\" Bleda said. \\\"Here, try some.\\\" He went through the same ritual and gave it to Riv.\\n\\n\\\"Mmmm,\\\" Riv said as the cheese and bread crumbled in her mouth. She leaned back, shifted awing and rested an elbow in a patch of purple-flowered thyme. A gentle, earthy smell wafted up.\\n\\n\\\"I used to hate the forest,\\\" Bleda said, looking around. \\\"It could not be more different from my home, the sea of grass. Once this felt suffocating tome.\\\" He looked from the trees to Riv. \\\"Now, I am starting to like it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are so different here,\\\" Riv said. \\\"Different to when you were at Drassil.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My cold-face, you mean?\\\" Bleda asked.\\n\\n\\\"Aye. And other things.\\\"\\n\\nBleda looked at her in silence along moment, then drew a deep breath.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"My Clan are trained to mask our emotions from before we can speak,\\\" he said, \\\"but that is not all that we are. The face of stone is for our enemies. No, that is not quite right; it is for anyone who is not kin, anyone who cannot be wholly trusted. We are taught to keep this guarded-\\\" he placed a handover his heart-\\\"taught to appear strong, to show no weakness. But there is more to the Sirak than the cold-face.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see that now,\\\" Riv said.\\n\\n\\\"We area passionate people,\\\" he continued, \\\"and amongst my kin I laughed much, until...\\\" He fell silent, eyes distant. Riv knew what he was thinking about, that dread day when his brother and sister had been slaughtered, and he taken from his Clan by the Ben-Elim, to be award as surety against his Clan's rebelliousness.\\n\\nBleda took in along, shuddering breath and shook his head, looked back at Riv.\\n\\n\\\"I have been at Drassil for so long, a stranger in a strange land. But look at me now; I cannot seem to stop smiling,\\\" Bleda said. \\\"Even after all that has happened.\\\" He looked at Riv with sympathy in his eyes. \\\"Amongst those we trust, my Clan will smile and laugh, cry and fight.\\\" Bleda paused, thoughtful. \\\"But it is not a gift for all to see. It is a privilege, earned by trust.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You used to annoy me,\\\" Riv confessed, smiling sheepishly. \\\"How nothing would bother or excite you. It's not normal.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You used to annoy me.\\\" Bleda grinned back. \\\"How everything seemed to bother and excite you. That's not normal, either.\\\"\\n\\nThey both laughed then, warm and genuine.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Thank you,\\\" Riv said and impulsively plucked a flower of purple thyme, thrusting it at Bleda.\\n\\n\\\"What for?\\\" he asked.\\n\\n\\\"For saving my life. In Drassil.\\\"\\n\\nBleda's expression turned serious. \\\"You're my friend,\\\" he said, gazing solemnly at her. \\\"And...\\\" They sat like that along moment, the silence lengthening, Riv feeling that Bleda was about to say something else. The world about Riv faded, shrinking down to Bleda's face, the gleam in his dark eyes, the curve of his lips. For one timeless moment she felt the urge to lean forwards and kiss him. A jolt of shock at that thought, a tingle of excitement mingled with fear.\\n\\nCrows squawked, a raucous explosion as a handful burst from branches looming over Riv and Bleda.\\n\\nBleda looked over his shoulder, at the road.\\n\\n\\\"They will be here soon,\\\" Riv said and Bleda nodded.\\n\\n\\\"And?\\\" Riv prompted. She wanted to know what he had been about to say.\\n\\n\\\"And...\\\" His expression shifted, a softening around the mouth and a crease at the eyes. \\\"This world would be a darker place without you, Riven ap Lorin,\\\" he said, using her full name for the first time. \\\"And definitely more boring.\\\" He took the flower of thyme and inspected it between thumb and forefinger, twirling it. \\\"Ouch,\\\" he said. Then smiled. \\\"It's like you. Prickly.\\\"\\n\\nThe sound of hooves grew loud, and then riders came into view, a dozen others coming up to them and reining in. Two young men were at the front, their short-cropped hair and black cuirasses with white wings embossed upon them marking them out as White-Wings-and Riv's friends. The tall and skinny Jost bumped along in his saddle, with the bull-like Vald beside him, his broad and muscled bulk as dissimilar to his friend as a mastiff to a lurcher.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"From the corner of her eye, Riv saw Bleda carefully put the flower she'd given him into a pocket in his cloak.\\n\\nTen of the twelve riders were Bleda's warrior-guard from the Sirak Clan of far-off Arcona, oath-bound to protect their young prince with their lives. They were of a similar appearance to Bleda, all dark-skinned with fur-lined deel tunics and baggy breeches bound with strips of cloth from ankle to knee. Curved bows like Bleda's hung from their saddles, and short curved swords were strapped across their backs. Where Bleda's black hair was long and unruly, they all had shaven heads apart from a single thick-bound braid. Until recently Bleda had always had close-cropped hair, as had Riv, emulating the appearance of the White-Wings, Drassil's elite warriors. Riv brushed a handover her own fair hair. It had grown since the day she had collapsed in the warrior field as her wings had begun to grow, and now it was almost as long as Bleda's. As she thought about it, she was surprised to realize that she had no urge or desire to cut it back to the White-Wings uniform style.\\n\\nThe Ben-Elim control me no longer.\\n\\n\\\"Finally-thank Elyon above,\\\" Vald said.\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Jost agreed wholeheartedly. He stood up in his stirrups and groaned, rubbing his backside. \\\"Arrgh, but my arse feels like Balur One-Eye's pounded on it with his war-hammer. Why do you have to fly so damn far?\\\"\\n\\nRiv just grinned at him.\\n\\nOne of the Sirak riders guided his mount to loom over Riv and Bleda, an older man, grey-haired and looking like a wind-blasted tree, skin dark and cracked with deep lines. Ellac, the captain of Bleda's honour guard. His reins were wrapped around a leather gauntlet strapped to the stump of his wrist, his right hand lost in some long-ago battle. He was frowning.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Riv felt her smile wilt; something about the old man was intimidating.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A glance at Bleda and she saw his cold-face was back in place.\\n\\n\\\"You should not fly so far out of our range,\\\" Ellac said to Riv, his tone flat, as if he were stating an uncontested truth.\\n\\n\\\"I was just telling her that,\\\" Bleda said.\\n\\nThanks a lot, Riv thought.\\n\\n\\\"And you should not ride so far ahead of the rest of us.\\\" Ellac turned his flat gaze upon Bleda.\\n\\n\\\"I just told Bleda that same thing,\\\" Riv said.\\n\\nGive as thou receive, Riv intoned silently from Elyon's Lore.\\n\\nBleda's mouth twitched.\\n\\n\\\"You should not disregard your kin so,\\\" Ellac said to Bleda, holding his gaze, the hint of humour in Bleda's face nowhere to be seen now. He hung his head.\\n\\n\\\"The blame is mine,\\\" Riv said, a pulse from her wings as they spread wide helping her to rise effortlessly to her feet.\\n\\n\\\"Not yours alone,\\\" Ellac said. He sucked in a deep breath. \\\"It is over a ten-night since you awoke,\\\" he said to Riv, \\\"and closer to a moon has passed since Kol slew Israfil. The world is changing, and we are still here.\\\" He looked up at the silent forest about them, branches soughing in a cold wind, crows cawing from the shadows of Forn. \\\"When you awoke, you said we would make things right.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I did,\\\" Riv said, remembering that moment, the rage coursing through her at the memory of her mam's death, of Kol's murderous rebellion. \\\"We will.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"When? How?\\\" Ellac said bluntly.\\n\\n\\\"Soon,\\\" Riv snarled and burst into the air, wings beating powerfully, the blast of it rocking Ellac in his saddle. She rose quickly into the sky, a tight spiral.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No, not again,\\\" she heard Jost groan.\\n\\n\\\"Back to Fia's cabin,\\\" Riv shouted down to them, and even as she sped into the wide sky she felt a weight settle upon her shoulders.\\n\\n\\\"I will make things right,\\\" she snarled at the birds and clouds.\\n\\nI just wish I knew how.\\n\\nFia's cottage came into sight, a wisp of smoke guiding Riv long before she saw the slight thinning of trees that marked the old woodsman's cabin. Her flight home had not been a good one, in her head. Ellac's prodding had set her to thinking about the future, but also about the past. A myriad of questions swirled through her mind, all of them impossible to answer.\\n\\nWho is my father?\\n\\nHer mam and sister had always told Riv that her father's name was Lorin, that he was a White-Wing warrior who had served under Dalmae's hundred. That he had died in battle during a campaign in the south, before Riv was born.\\n\\nBut that must have been a lie. My father was Ben-Elim. My mam lied tome.\\n\\nShe felt abloom of rage at that thought, born of hurt, but frustrated and shame-tinged as well. Frustrated that she could never ask her mam the truth of it, and ashamed for feeling such anger towards her mother, who had died trying to protect her.\\n\\nBut she lied tome.\\n\\nDid Aphra know? Perhaps, she was no bairn when I was born, already seventeen summers and a warrior in the White-Wings herself. Has she lied tome my whole life, too?\\n\\nRiv pushed that thought away. All her life she had idolized her sister, respected her as the pinnacle of what she dreamed of becoming: a warrior, a leader, wise, respected and loved by all within her command.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Aphra, my sister, where are you now?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Did you fight Kol? Are you languishing in a dungeon, or is your head on a spike? Do you need me?\\n\\nA glance over her shoulder as she swept into her descent showed Bleda and the others riding close behind her.\\n\\nRiv landed in a swirl of fallen leaves and forest litter, stood therein silence as the leaves settled about her.\\n\\nA timber cabin sat there, half-wrapped in ivy, and about her were scores of small, stone-built cairns, the burial ground of her kin, of the countless half-breeds born during the last hundred years to Kol and the other Ben-Elim loyal to him. A terrible secret silenced by death.\\n\\nSilenced by murder.\\n\\nAnd that is what should have happened tome. My mam must have kept my birth hidden, somehow, or I would have been executed and buried alongside these little ones.\\n\\nWhen Riv had first seen the child-sized cairns she had thought the deaths had happened naturally, during birth. Fia had told her differently: that the Ben-Elim insisted on their offspring being left to die, their dirty little secrets hidden beneath cairns of stones.\\n\\nThe injustice of it set red spots of rage dancing before her eyes. With a deep breath, she mastered it, mostly.\\n\\nFia strode out onto the wooden porch and raised a hand in greeting. She was tall and fair-haired, and also a White-Wing, weapon-wise and as tough as they came, second in command to Aphra, Riv's sister. She held a baby close to her chest, a boy, and he was the reason that Fia was here, why she had left the White-Wings and was hiding out herein the wild snarl of Forn Forest.\\n\\nBecause that baby in her arms is a half-breed, just like me, and Fia has chosen life for him, not death and a cold stone grave.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv looked around her, taking in the cabin and moss-covered graves.\\n\\nHow many have come hereon Kol's orders, to kill the seed he or his comrades have sown in so many bellies? Fia was just one more in along list. Her baby is supposed to be in a hole in the ground by now.\\n\\nRiv smiled at Fia, proud of her courage and strength to defy the Ben-Elim. That was no small task fora White-Wing of Drassil. The Ben-Elim were considered all-wise and powerful, treated almost like gods, respected and adored. Not so long ago the thought of defying them would have felt inconceivable to Riv, a terrible crime.\\n\\nI don't feel like that anymore.\\n\\nThe thud of hooves as Bleda and the others cantered into the glade.\\n\\n\\\"It's time to talk,\\\" Riv said to Fia as the dozen riders dismounted.\\n\\n\\\"We cannot stay here forever,\\\" Ellac said.\\n\\nRiv, Bleda, Fia, Jost, Vald and Ellac were sitting upon logs in a loose circle between the cabin and the cairns. Bleda's Sirak guards were either tending to the horses or lurking in the shadows, ever vigilant.\\n\\n\\\"We are safe here,\\\" Fia said.\\n\\n\\\"How can you be sure?\\\" Ellac asked. \\\"If you are here, then surely the Ben-Elim must know of it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have told you before,\\\" Fia said impatiently. \\\"The Ben-Elim do not know of this place. They are too high and mighty to wish to know the details of what happens here, or even where here is. They only tell us to leave Drassil before any sign of our babies show, and to return when...\\\" She glanced at the small graves.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So how did you know to come here, then?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ellac said.\\n\\n\\\"It is a secret amongst us White-Wings. The ones who...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Consort with Ben-Elim,\\\" Ellac finished for her.\\n\\nThat is why Aphra told Bleda to bring me here, Riv thought. A secret place, known only to her and a handful of others.\\n\\nBut what if Aphra is being put to the question... tortured?\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Fia nodded curtly.\\n\\n\\\"Huh,\\\" Ellac grunted. \\\"Even so, we cannot stay here forever.\\\" His eyes fixed on Riv.\\n\\n\\\"I know,\\\" Riv muttered.\\n\\n\\\"Away from here history is being made; the world is changing.\\\"\\n\\nFor the worst, I don't doubt.\\n\\n\\\"I said I would make things right,\\\" Riv said, and she meant it, her words rising on a swell of anger.\\n\\n\\\"But what does that even mean?\\\" Jost asked. \\\"What is right?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And once you've figured that out, how do we do it?\\\" Vald put in.\\n\\nThose are the questions I've been asking myself, a thousand times a day.\\n\\n\\\"It seems tome that you should bethinking more on how you are going to survive the next moon,\\\" Ellac said. When Riv didn't answer, he continued, \\\"I am old and have no use for long words and fine-flowered sentences. I will speak the truth as I see it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've gathered that,\\\" Riv grunted. \\\"Goon, then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We are too few to fight the Ben-Elim. And I am thinking you will find it hard to be making new friends anywhere within the boundaries of the Land of the Faithful. The Lore of Elyon-the Lore that you have lived by, and that rules this land-declares you an abomination, fit only for the executioner's axe. Am I wrong?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"An abomination. Riv felt a chill shiver through her-part shame that not so long ago she would readily have called for the execution of any Ben-Elim or Kadoshim half-breed. She had believed Elyon's Lore unquestioningly.\\n\\nAnd now I find that I am one of those half-breeds. Am Ian abomination? Do I deserve to be slaughtered like a feast-bull? Is my blood polluted, corrupted?\\n\\n\\\"Careful.\\\" Vald growled, resting a hand upon the hilt of his short-sword. \\\"That's my friend you're calling an abomination.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you an idiot?\\\" Ellac snapped back, staring flatly at Vald. \\\"I am not calling her that. Your Book of Elyon calls her that.\\\" He paused, looked from Vald to Riv. \\\"A person is made by their heart and their wits.\\\" He touched his one hand to his chest and then to his temple. \\\"And by the deeds that they do. Their choices. Not whether they have pale skin or dark skin, wings or no wings. One hand or two.\\\" A twitch of a smile threatened to crack his cold-face. He looked Riv up and down. \\\"I like your wings, maybe even wish I had some of my own.\\\"\\n\\nRiv found herself liking Old Ellac.\\n\\n\\\"You are right,\\\" Fia said, \\\"Riv is named as an abomination by Elyon's Lore, as is my son.\\\" She hugged her baby more tightly to her chest.\\n\\n\\\"So we are surrounded by a thousand leagues filled with those who would see you dead,\\\" Ellac said.\\n\\n\\\"Sounds about right,\\\" Riv acknowledged.\\n\\n\\\"We could take you to Arcona,\\\" Ellac said. \\\"The Sirak would give you safe harbour.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv looked at Bleda and he nodded.\\n\\nThis is his idea. Bleda must have talked of it to Ellac. They would take me to their homeland, put me under the protection of their Clan. They must know that would start a war. We were all there when the Ben-Elim crushed the Sirak, putting their heel upon the neck of Bleda's people. Riv felt a rush of emotion, that Bleda would risk so much for her, for their friendship. And Ellac obeys his wish. A loyal shieldman indeed.\\n\\n\\\"What, and invite a war with the Ben-Elim?\\\" Riv snorted. \\\"We all remember how that ended last time.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We have learned from the past,\\\" Ellac said. \\\"We will not be so easily defeated next time.\\\"\\n\\nNext time. Does he know something I don't?\\n\\nRiv sucked in along breath, thinking over his words.\\n\\n\\\"I could not do that. Would not,\\\" she said. \\\"Win or lose in a war against the Ben-Elim, many of your kin would die. They will not die for me. I'll not have that on my shoulders, too.\\\"\\n\\nWhat should I do? All my life I have obeyed orders, followed where I've been led, my heart's desire to be a White-Wing, to do the bidding of Elyon's Lore and the Ben-Elim. Following, obeying, is so much easier than choosing, than determining what is right.\\n\\nWhat should I do?\\n\\nShe felt a frustrated anger bubbling, wanted to scream with it, but settled for grinding her teeth instead.\\n\\nWhat are my options? To run, to Arcona or somewhere else, to live a life in hiding? And what of my friends, of Bleda, Vald and Jost? Would they run with me? Should I let them? Wouldn't that be condemning them to a lifetime of misery? Should I choose to go back to Kol, swallow my pride and ask his forgiveness for the sake of my friends. Perhaps he has changed, now he is safe from Israfil's judgement.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv's mind was filled with an image of her mother lying in the dirt a handspan from Riv, blood trickling from her mouth, eyes empty, Kol standing over her, his blade red.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Riv snarled, all thoughts of running, hiding or begging forgiveness evaporating in the flames of her anger. \\\"I will not run, I will not cower in hiding here, and I will not crawl back to Kol. He slew my mother.\\\" The long years of obedience to Elyon's Lore and the Ben-Elim were snuffed out by one deed. And suddenly it all fell into place, the answer clear as her friends before her.\\n\\nKol must die.\\n\\n\\\"Kol is a poison that must be cutout. I'm going to kill him, and then I'll see what has changed with Israfil's death.\\\" She stood, a ripple of her wings, as if she intended to go and carryout her words then and there.\\n\\nAnd there is another reason I must go back to Drassil. To find Aphra, to save her, if she still lives, and if I can.\\n\\nAnd to ask her if she knows who my father is.\\n\\nShe looked at her friends sitting around her. \\\"I'm not asking you to join me. I don't want you to; the only death I wanton my hands is Kol's.\\\"\\n\\nJost and Vald shared a look. Riv saw on their faces what was going through their minds: the ties of friendship, conflicting loyalties tugging indifferent directions.\\n\\nThey have spent their whole lives dreaming of becoming White-Wings, just like me. The thought of striking one of the Ben-Elim, openly talking about killing them, it would have been unthinkable a moon ago. And they have much less to lose than I. They don't have wings, will not be spat upon and executed as an abomination.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Her gaze shifted to Bleda, who was sat staring at the ground.\\n\\nHe is award of the Ben-Elim, held as surety for his Clan's obedience. It may already be too late for him, by his act of killing Adonai, but there is still a chance that he could make things right with the Ben-Elim and avoid dragging his people into a war they could not win.\\n\\nI will go alone.\\n\\nBleda stood, eyes meeting hers.\\n\\n\\\"I'm coming with you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Riv said. \\\"It is too dangerous.\\\"\\n\\nBleda blinked at that, a look of pain momentarily sweeping aside his cold-face, as if Riv had slapped him.\\n\\n\\\"I am not afraid,\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"I don't think you are,\\\" Riv said, \\\"it is I who am afraid. I fear for you. For all of you. I will not have your deaths on my conscience. I will do this alone.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You do not have the exclusive right of vengeance,\\\" Bleda said. \\\"Kol slew my brother and sister, threw their heads at my feet.\\\" He closed his eyes a moment. \\\"Even if you were not my friend, we have a common enemy in Kol. We are bound by that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And don't think we'd just let you go flying off into danger without us,\\\" Jost said, rising alongside Bleda.\\n\\n\\\"Aye. We are closer than kin,\\\" Vald said. \\\"Riv, the winged shieldmaiden. You've guarded my back more times than I can count.\\\"\\n\\nVald and Jost stood, a statement.\\n\\n\\\"I've no love for Kol,\\\" Fia said, standing with them. \\\"He would have had me murder my bairn and bury him here.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I follow my prince,\\\" Ellac said, though he did not stand.\\n\\nRiv stared at them all, emotions swirling through her like a winter storm. Love, fear, relief, worry.\\n\\nFootfalls thudded in the forest litter and one of Bleda's guards appeared from the shadows.\\n\\n\\\"People approach us,\\\" he hissed, an arrow loosely nocked at his bow. \\\"One has left them, is coming this way. A woman, a White-Wing.\\\"\\n\\nA woman.\\n\\nThey all stood, Riv staring at the Sirak warrior. Fia burst into motion, running to the cabin.\\n\\n\\\"Shall I kill her?\\\" the Sirak asked Bleda.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Riv hissed, fear and hope flickering in her belly. Bleda gestured for the warrior to hold.\\n\\nRiv waited a score of breaths, then a score more, tense as a bowstring.\\n\\nNow another figure was stepping from the shadows, a woman, short-cropped dark hair, wrapped in a bearskin cloak, beneath it a black cuirass with white wings embossed upon it.\\n\\n\\\"Aphra. Thank Elyon you live,\\\" Riv said, taking a few steps towards her sister.\\n\\nSomething in Aphra's eyes made Riv stop.\\n\\n\\\"I am sorry,\\\" Aphra said.\\n\\nAnd then shadows swept across the glade, the sound of beating wings, and Ben-Elim were swooping from the sky.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha stared at the blood on her hands.\\n\\nShe was sitting at the end of a pier, feet dangling, the slate-grey waters of Starstone Lake lapping beneath her boots. A sword rested across her knees, its hilt plain and leather-bound, sweat-stained, the blade a dull black beneath the gore crusted upon it.\\n\\nSnow was falling, gentle as a sigh, flakes settling upon her stained hands. She watched as the snowflakes melted, fascinated as the congealed mess on her palm softened and leaked into each snowflake, spreading like a dark poison through pure white veins.\\n\\n\\\"Blood on the snow,\\\" Fritha whispered.\\n\\nA memory of screams filled her head, terror and pain, of shouting and cries for help. A tumbling cascade of memories racked her and she screwed her eyes shut, but still saw her newborn daughter's face looking up at her, pale and blood-spattered, eyes glazing. Fritha groaned and hunched over, rocking, clasping the sword in her lap as if it were the fragile, lifeless bundle she had cradled on that dread day.\\n\\nThe day her life had changed.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" she snarled, and forced herself to sit straight and still. With a grimace, she pushed the memory back into the dark places of her mind. She ran a hand across her head, the stubble-growth of her shaved hair rough on her palm. With the edge of her snow-damp cloak, she scrubbed frenetically at the blood on the blade of the sword upon her lap, as if she were attempting to scour and erase that unspeakable moment from her memory.\\n\\nIt didn't work. Nothing ever worked.\\n\\nHeavy footsteps on the wooden quay sent tremors through Fritha's body. They grew louder and stopped behind her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Gulla calls for you,\\\" a voice said, deep and rumbling.\\n\\nFritha ceased her scrubbing, and with a deep, shuddering breath she sheathed the sword, then stood slowly and turned to face the giant, Gunil.\\n\\nHe towered over her, head and shoulders larger than the tallest man, amass of leather and fur, a war-hammer slung across one shoulder. He bore the scars of last night's battle: along, scabbing cut across his angular forehead and numerous rents in his leather armour. One shoulder was bandaged, his left arm slumped, fresh blood still seeping into the linen. It was a grievous wound, Fritha knew, for she had tended it, cleaned and packed it with honey and yarrow, then seared it with a white-hot knife. Sig the giantess, warrior and champion of the Order of the Bright Star, had given Gunil the wound, a spear cast that would have killed him had it been half a handspan lower.\\n\\n\\\"How is it?\\\" Fritha asked.\\n\\n\\\"A wound,\\\" Gunil grated, as if it were only a scratch, not a hole almost the size of Fritha's fist. \\\"I live.\\\" The giant shrugged, a ripple of muscle. Fora heartbeat his eyes flared, a hint of pain-tinged madness glimmering deep within, suggesting at a wildness that scared even Fritha, but then it was gone.\\n\\n\\\"Gulla,\\\" Gunil repeated to her.\\n\\nFritha nodded, pulled her bearskin cloak tighter about her shoulders and strode past him, boots crunching on the shingle beach as she made her way towards the mining complex built on the lake's shore.\\n\\nDawn was recently come, a pale gleam behind thick cloud that blanketed the sky. The ground was muffled in snow, to Fritha's right a row of open-fronted, barn-like buildings ranged in a line. The sound of hammering and sawing echoed. To her left a great pyre of heaped driftwood. A body lay upon the pile, a figure stood beside it, broad and squat, leathery wings furled tight across a muscled back. It was Morn, half-breed daughter of Gulla, new Lord of the Kadoshim.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha's eyes lingered on the creature of two worlds: part human, part Kadoshim. Her dark hair was shaved short to her scalp, just as Fritha's and the secret many that followed the Kadoshim. Morn's head was bowed, but Fritha could seethe streaks that tears had channelled through the blood and grime thick upon her face. Her brother, Ulfang, lay upon the piled wood, his wings wrapped around him, a sword resting upon his chest. He had been slain during the fighting last night, by Drem. Many died last night, including Sig. Fritha felt a twist in her belly at the thought of the giant, a measure of pride that her hand had dealt Sig her deathblow.\\n\\nSig, vaunted champion of the Bright Star, just food for crows now, because of me.\\n\\nFritha had stared into Sig's eyes as she'd slowly thrust her blade deep, seen the pain, the flutter of life as it had left the giant. But the death had not satisfied Fritha as she had hoped it would; it had done little to fill the gaping hole inside her that screamed to be slaked with death and torment. Perhaps it was the way the giant had died that had marred Fritha's pleasure-not begging or screaming. Sig's last words had been a defiance, even if they were little more than a whispered breath upon her lips.\\n\\n\\\"Truth and courage,\\\" Fritha repeated to herself, then spat on the snow as if the very words tasted foul.\\n\\nAll part of the Great Lie.\\n\\nMorn thrust a flaming torch into the pyre, the falling snow hissed and steamed as tongues of fire crackled and writhed. Smoke billowed, in heartbeats the stench of burning wood and flesh mingled, swirling about the lakeshore, and Morn lifted her head and howled her grief to the snow-laden sky.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2293,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 7"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha's eyes lingered on the creature of two worlds: part human, part Kadoshim. Her dark hair was shaved short to her scalp, just as Fritha's and the secret many that followed the Kadoshim. Morn's head was bowed, but Fritha could seethe streaks that tears had channelled through the blood and grime thick upon her face. Her brother, Ulfang, lay upon the piled wood, his wings wrapped around him, a sword resting upon his chest. He had been slain during the fighting last night, by Drem. Many died last night, including Sig. Fritha felt a twist in her belly at the thought of the giant, a measure of pride that her hand had dealt Sig her deathblow.\n\nSig, vaunted champion of the Bright Star, just food for crows now, because of me.\n\nFritha had stared into Sig's eyes as she'd slowly thrust her blade deep, seen the pain, the flutter of life as it had left the giant. But the death had not satisfied Fritha as she had hoped it would; it had done little to fill the gaping hole inside her that screamed to be slaked with death and torment. Perhaps it was the way the giant had died that had marred Fritha's pleasure-not begging or screaming. Sig's last words had been a defiance, even if they were little more than a whispered breath upon her lips.\n\n\"Truth and courage,\" Fritha repeated to herself, then spat on the snow as if the very words tasted foul.\n\nAll part of the Great Lie.\n\nMorn thrust a flaming torch into the pyre, the falling snow hissed and steamed as tongues of fire crackled and writhed. Smoke billowed, in heartbeats the stench of burning wood and flesh mingled, swirling about the lakeshore, and Morn lifted her head and howled her grief to the snow-laden sky."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha walked past Morn in silence, Gunil's heavy footsteps crunching behind her as they passed through an open gateway in a stockaded wall, entering the mining complex. Lines of smoke still blackened the sky, timber frames charred and collapsing as she strode across the complex, making her way through a sprawl of buildings to the open square where the ritual had taken place, where Gulla had been changed, transformed.\n\nBecome the first Revenant.\n\nFritha shuddered at the memory of it, feeling a mixture of fear and exhilaration as she remembered the giant bat being nailed to the table, the excitement she'd felt coursing through her as she'd held a blade to Gulla's throat, the jet of blood. And then Asroth's severed hand, the power of his blood.\n\nWe did it.\n\nI did it.\n\nThe courtyard opened up before her; afresh layer of snow covered the gore-spattered ground. At the northern end stood a thick-legged table, long and broad, pools of blood, bodies and dismembered limbs still scattered across it. They were testament not only to last night's battle, but also to the many moons of laboured experimentation and muttered spells that had been undertaken, the transformation of men and beasts into something... more. Fritha felt a flush of joy just looking at it, for she loved her work. To transform, to create.\n\nOne of the results of those experiments prowled past Fritha, something part man, part beast, a creature of tooth and claw, hunched and muscled, limbs elongated. A Feral being. It glanced at Fritha, paused as it bared its teeth, long and blood-crusted, nostrils flaring on its muzzle as it drew in her scent. A tremored growl as it recognized her and paced closer, dropping its head to her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha reached out and stroked the Feral's cheek.\n\n\"My baby,\" she whispered, and the Feral pushed against her hand, a moment's affection, and then it was loping away and disappearing into the shadows.\n\nFritha walked around a mound of piled corpses, acolytes fallen in the battle, limbs twisted together in a macabre embrace. Their bodies steamed in the winter cold. Too many to count, though Fritha thought over a score of their number lay there, and still more were being carried in from the edges of the camp, a trail of the dead marking where Sig and her companions had carved a path to the stockade wall and made their escape.\n\nHow could they slay so many?\n\nFour against many-over fifty acolytes and a score of my Ferals.\n\nSig and her companions had wreaked such havoc amongst them last night: three men, a giant bear, a wolven and a talking crow. They had fled into the night while the giantess Sig stood and bought them time with her sword.\n\nFritha shook her head, could still hardly believe it, though the growing pile of the slain was a stark reminder that her mind had not exaggerated last night's events.\n\nThe dead tell no lies.\n\nA crowd stood gathered about a figure beyond the table, tall and dark-haired, wings furled behind his back.\n\nGulla, Lord of the Kadoshim.\n\nFritha strode purposefully towards him, and shaven-haired acolytes parted for her. This was the first time she had observed Gulla clearly since last night; even he had not gone unscathed. A bandage wrapped his once-handsome, sharp-angled face, covering the ruin of his eye-socket where one of the Bright Star's talking crows had taken an eye. But it was the ritual which had marked him most: his whole body was transformed, taller, limbs elongated. His muscles coiled like rope about his frame, each striation and fibre visible, veins pulsing, and a shadow seemed to edge him, like a dark halo. Fritha's eyes were drawn to Gulla's mouth, which appeared wider, the hint of too many teeth behind stretched skin, and the tips of two sharp canines protruding from his lips. Across his throat was a raw scar, scabbed and weeping a translucent pus, where Fritha had cut his throat and slain him, all the while speaking her spells of blood and bone."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And now he is reborn, the first Revenant-anew creation fora new type of war.\n\n\"My Lord,\" Fritha said as she reached him, dipping her head.\n\n\"Priestess,\" Gulla said. Even his voice was changed after last night's ceremony. Where once it had been deep and resonant, now it was a whispered hiss, as if Fritha heard it inside her head, scratching within her skull.\n\nMen and women stood about Gulla, seven figures gazing at him with something akin to worship. Last night they had been human, but now, like him, they were something more. Gulla had turned them, drunk their blood and transformed them into anew creation. Into a weapon.\n\nA weapon that will change this world.\n\nThey stood about, all of them trembling like newborn colts, as if they had not yet learned to master their bodies. One of them took a juddering step forwards. He had once been Ulf the tanner, one of the lords of Kergard, a large town west of the mine, built upon the banks of Starstone Lake. Now he was Ulf the Revenant, one of the Seven, disciple of Gulla.\n\n\"Hungry,\" Ulf hissed. The others behind him grunted their agreement.\n\nGulla smiled.\n\n\"We did it,\" Fritha said, feeling a smile spread across her own face.\n\n\"Aye, Priestess,\" Gulla said. \"You did it. I never doubted you.\"\n\nDid you not? Even when I held my blade to your throat? she asked silently. I doubted myself, for so long. But no more. She looked at the great table, stained black from the lifeblood of a thousand experiments, her eyes moving to the cliff face behind them, set with iron bars and shadow-filled cages. Caves burrowed deep into the cliff, home to a hundred more cages, where other of her experiments lived. And bred."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Soon they will multiply. Where there are ten, there will be a hundred, where a hundred, soon a thousand.\n\nA dull thud resounded, a puff of dust as cage bars rattled and ground at the stone they were set into. A Feral glowered out from the darkness behind those bars, then wrapped its teeth around thick iron and wrenched at it, trying to chew its way through the bones of the earth. Blood mingled with saliva and froth as the Feral heaved and tore at its cage, but the bars held.\n\nFritha smiled at it, like a mother at a mischievous child.\n\nNot all of my experiments have been so successful, not all of my children can be trusted to prowl amongst us.\n\nHer eyes returned to Gulla, full of anew, unholy fire.\n\nBut you, you are my greatest achievement.\n\nThus far.\n\n\"There will be no stopping us, now.\" Gulla grinned. \"They will head for Dun Seren.\"\n\n\"They will,\" Fritha agreed.\n\n\"They must not reach it. Our enemies cannot learn of...\" He paused, fingertips brushing his fangs, caressing. \"Me,\" he finished.\n\n\"They cannot,\" Fritha agreed. \"It is too soon, too early.\"\n\nA gust of wind and beating of wings, and Morn swept down from the sky, landing amidst them with a swirl of fresh-fallen snow. Fritha tasted ash and ice.\n\n\"I will hunt my brother's killer,\" Morn said, muscled shoulders hunched and twitching as she glowered up at Gulla, as if daring him to deny her.\n\nDrem, you mean, Fritha thought, remembering the young huntsman who had cast the spear that sent Ulfang crashing from the night sky. A shiver of emotion rippled through her at the thought of Drem. He had been her neighbour fora time."},{"from":"human","value":"And my friend."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The word sounded strange, even in the veiled darkness of her mind.\n\nShe had seen something in Drem's eyes when he'd looked at her. Not desire, or greed, or lust; that she was used to from men. There had been something deeper.\n\nFriendship.\n\nSomething kind.\n\nIn Drem, Fritha had seen someone searching fora kinship, for meaning, and fora time she'd thought she was the one to give it to him. She'd hoped to win him over, to show him how life was not black and white, that there was more to the Kadoshim than the nightmare tales spoken of them around fires in the dead of night. But it was not to be. Last night Drem had tried to kill her, had sworn that he would.\n\nAll things come to an end, Fritha thought bitterly. He could have been mine, should have been mine.\n\nBut Drem had chosen a different path, one that would involve slaying her, if his words last night were anything to go by.\n\nWe all make our choices. And truth be told, I cannot blame him. I did cause the death of his father.\n\nIt had been Drem's father, Olin, who had found and forged the Starstone Sword that Fritha now wore at her hip. The taking of it had meant Olin's death.\n\nBut I spared Drem, when I could have cut his throat or had him carved into a thousand pieces. That should have counted for something.\n\n\"Ulfang will be avenged,\" Gulla continued. Something shifted across Morn's face, part snarl, part smile, and she flexed her wings and bent her knees as if to take to the air and begin the hunt that very moment."},{"from":"human","value":"Fritha snorted."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Grief has clouded her wits. It will take more than one half-breed Kadoshim to put the heads of Drem and his companions in a sack.\n\n\"But not alone,\" Gulla said, a hand snaking out to grip Morn's shoulder. \"Gunil and his bear will accompany you, and Fritha will lead.\" The Kadoshim's eyes shifted to her. \"Fritha, gather your followers, gather your Red Right Hand.\" He paused, a twitch at the corners of his mouth hinting at a smile. It was the name Fritha had given to those acolytes and Ferals that she had led into Drassil, who had fought for her and helped her to cut Asroth's iron-encased hand from his frozen arm.\n\nMorn glared at Gulla, mouth spasming, but Gulla held her gaze.\n\n\"I share your pain, daughter,\" Gulla said, \"but you cannot accomplish this alone, and I would not lose you also. Fritha will command. Together you shall hunt them, and together you shall end them.\"\n\nMorn's mouth twisted, a growling sound leaking from her throat, but she dipped her head in submission.\n\n\"Will you not lead us, my Lord?\" Fritha asked.\n\n\"Me? No,\" Gulla said. He looked at the seven Revenants surrounding him, his firstborn. \"I am for Kergard; I have an army to build.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bleda reached for his bow as Ben-Elim swept down from above, great winged silhouettes blotting out the sky, too many to count. Fia had disappeared inside the cabin, Jost and Vald were stumbling to their feet and running to Riv, who stood frozen, staring at Aphra. Ellac was standing, shouting orders, a curved sword in his one hand, and then a group of Bleda's honour guard were running into the glade and arrows were hissing from the shadows, up at the Ben-Elim.\n\nThere was a cry of pain and one of the winged warriors crashed through branches and plummeted to the ground, landing in an explosion of twigs. The Ben-Elim staggered to one knee, an arrow lodged deep in the meat between neck and shoulder. Before Bleda could blink, Ellac was there, sword rising and falling, the Ben-Elim collapsing back to the ground, blood staining the gravestones red.\n\nA hiss from above and Bleda was diving at Ellac, smashing into him and sending them both sprawling as a Ben-Elim's spear thrummed in the ground where Ellac had been standing. Bleda scrambled to his feet, pulled Ellac up and drew his bow from its leather case. Ina heartbeat he had it strung with an arrow drawn, searching fora target.\n\nThe Ben-Elim who had cast a spear at Ellac made that easy for Bleda. A dark-haired warrior, white wings and chainmail shirt gleaming in winter sun that shone in splintered shafts through leafless branches. He landed gently, a pulse of his great wings checking his descent. On one arm he carried along shield, and with his other hand he was drawing a sword from his hip and striding towards them.\n\nBleda loosed without thinking, straight at the Ben-Elim's heart, but with a shrug of the Ben-Elim's shield arm the arrow thumped into linden-wood, the Ben-Elim not breaking his stride. Bleda blinked, surprise and shock mingled, drew another arrow, loosed. Again, the Ben-Elim caught it on his shield, though the impact rocked him back a step."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A dozen paces separated them now. Bleda felt a worm of panic threading through his veins. Drew and loosed, aiming low this time, in the same heartbeat Ellac was rushing with a wordless battle-cry, sword raised. Bleda's arrow punched into the Ben-Elim's calf, dragging a grunt from the warrior and causing him to stumble, lowering his shield. Ellac swung, the Ben-Elim deflecting the blow, a clash of steel, sparks as they traded blows, then another arrow from Bleda plunged into the Ben-Elim's throat. He stumbled back, choking and spluttering, blood jetting. Ellac's sword chopped into his skull and he collapsed bonelessly.\n\nAn impact in Bleda's back sent him flying, crunching to the ground, his bow spinning away. He tasted leaves and dirt, rolled to lookup at a Ben-Elim standing over him, wings furled, a spear raised high, then he thrust, driving straight for Bleda's chest.\n\nMOVE. Fora moment he was frozen, unable to do anything except watch the bright steel of the Ben-Elim's spear speed towards his heart.\n\nThen in a blur of feathers and mail the Ben-Elim was gone, Bleda was lying on his back, gasping like a landed fish. Feathers drifted down around him, some gleaming white, others a soft dapple grey.\n\nDragging himself upright, Bleda watched Riv rolling with the Ben-Elim, an incomprehensible whirlwind of limbs and wings. They separated, the Ben-Elim stepping away, making room to swing his spear, a flash of horror and disgust as his eyes took in Riv and her wings. Riv snarled and leaped, bursting through the guard of the Ben-Elim's whirling spear, and her muscled arms grabbed at him, pulling the Ben-Elim close as she headbutted him; a breath later, her knee was crunching into his groin. The Ben-Elim sagged, dropped to his knees and Riv grabbed his head in both hands, with a savage twist snapping his neck."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fora moment Riv held the limp corpse in her grip, veins bulging in her neck, nostrils flaring, then she let it fall to the ground. A scream from the glade, another voice-Vald?-bellowing for help, and Riv was snatching up the dead Ben-Elim's spear and bursting into motion, half running, half flying as she sped back into the fight.\n\nBleda ran for his bow, snatched it up, saw Vald was standing over Jost, furiously trading blows with three Ben-Elim. Bleda knew he only had moments: Vald's sole weapon was his short-sword, standard issue of the White-Wings. It was deadly in a shield wall with no space to swing or manoeuvre, but the Ben-Elim bearing down on Vald were armed with spear, shield and sword, and Vald would not retreat from his fallen friend.\n\nIn an explosion of blood, a spear-point burst through the chest of one Ben-Elim, Riv standing behind him, lifting him from the floor and casting him away like a skewered rat. The other two halted their attack on Vald, frozen fora moment at the sight of Riv, gore splattered, wings spread. Then Fia rushed from the cabin, sprinting across the glade, White-Wing shield on one arm, another slung across her back, short-sword in her hand. She thrust a shield at Vald, shrugged the other from her back and with a crack of timber their shields locked, both of them standing over Jost.\n\nOne of the Ben-Elim turned on Riv, but he fell with Bleda's arrow sprouting from his neck, the other Ben-Elim beating his wings, jabbing a spear at Vald and Fia and retreating out of range.\n\nA quick glance showed Bleda that some of his guard still stood, though he spied at least four dead or dying on the ground. Silhouettes of Ben-Elim still choked the sky, swirling down upon them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"With me!\" Bleda cried, running to Riv and the others, Ellac and his surviving guards following. Jost was groaning upon the ground, a wound on his head had blood sheeting across his face. Bleda and his guards formed a half-circle about the fallen warrior, guarding the backs of Fia and Vald, their bows aiming upwards.\n\nCan we survive this?\n\nBleda saw the Ben-Elim were carrying large war-shields, making arrow-work harder still, even without the snarl of branches that helped to deflect the flight of arrows.\n\nThe Ben-Elim have learned from their last encounter with us Sirak. I have never seen them bearing shields before.\n\n\"Come, winged ones,\" Bleda hissed, \"and we'll make a song from your dead that will make even my mother Erdene proud.\" Beside him Ellac barked a laugh, the tide of battle and blood sweeping away his cold-face. The old warrior snatched up a shield from a fallen Ben-Elim and gave some cover to Bleda and the other guards, brandishing his sword at any who flew close, and Bleda and his men let loose volley after volley into the sky above them.\n\nA handful of Ben-Elim tumbled from the sky, splintering branches in their fall, but more continued to spiral down through the trees to join the attack.\n\nSpears rained down upon them, the warrior to Bleda's left was pierced through the chest, transfixed as the spear-point punched deep into the ground. Bleda loosed, his arrow deflected by a branch and skittering away. Drew and loosed again, this time a Ben-Elim crashing to the ground, an arrow piercing his eye.\n\nThen a noise filtered through the din of battle, through the snap and whir of arrows, through the screams and clang of iron and steel, the beating of wings."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A steady, rhythmic drumming.\n\nShapes formed amongst the trees before Bleda: warriors emerging, men and women, all with close-cropped hair, clad in mail and boiled leather, white wings embossed on huge rectangular shields upon their arms. They were advancing, clashing swords upon shield-rims. Bleda recognized faces amongst them.\n\nWhite-Wings. Aphra's hundred.\n\nAnd Aphra led them.\n\nAnother of Bleda's guards fell, a spear in the belly, blood gushing from his mouth. Bleda nocked another arrow, felt too few feathers left in his quiver, loosed at the approaching wall of White-Wings, his arrow punching into wood. Muttered a curse.\n\nThe White-Wings emerged into the glade, tightening their formation as the trees cleared, forming a circle around Bleda and the others, relentlessly marching closer. Bleda saw the gleam of steel, knew that when the White-Wings were close enough their short-swords would end this fight in moments.\n\n\"HOLD,\" a voice cried out. The White-Wings snapped to a sudden stop, shields a solid wall around Bleda and his companions, separating them from the attacking Ben-Elim.\n\nThe Ben-Elim ceased their attack, some spiralling in circles above, others landing on think branches, silent as predatory hawks.\n\nAphra stepped out of the line, eyes fixed on Riv, who was drenched in blood, hovering above Jost, Vald and Fia. She alighted before her friends, facing Aphra, and Bleda saw a host of emotions sweep across the warrior captain's face.\n\n\"Riv, stop,\" Aphra said. \"There need be no more bloodshed. Please, lay down your arms.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You brought them here, led them tome,\" Riv said with a snarl, gesturing up at the Ben-Elim.\n\n\"Of course I did,\" Aphra said. \"This is the Land of the Faithful. The Ben-Elim rule here, and fora thousand leagues in every direction. There's been a change of leadership, but they still rule. I want you back with me, and that means back with them.\"\n\n\"They slew Mam,\" Riv said, a tremor of emotion shaking her voice. \"Kol slew our mam.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Aphra said, \"and my heart is broken. But you still live. You and I, we are kin, we are all that each other has to hold onto in this world, and I'd not lose you, too. I've lost-\" she paused, clenched her jaw fora moment. \"We've lost too much already. I wanted to find you, bring you home. Please, Riv, come home.\"\n\n\"Home? To the place where my mother was murdered?\"\n\n\"She was not murdered. She fell in battle, died a brave death, as all warriors hope for.\"\n\n\"She needs justice.\"\n\nAphra sucked in along, shuddering breath, her gaze shifting to take in Riv's wings, and she exhaled long and slow. \"I knew something was happening to you, to your back, but this...\"\n\nA ripple ran through Riv's wings, one dappled feather coming loose, drifting to land at Bleda's feet.\n\n\"Please, Riv, come home.\"\n\nA silence stretched, then a beating of wings from above. Bleda looked up to seethe Ben-Elim parting, a winged warrior descending from high above. Blond-haired, handsome, gleaming in a coat of mail, a ragged scar stretching from forehead to chin."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Kol.\n\nHe landed gently in the space between Riv and Aphra, his eyes fixed on Riv. On her wings.\n\n\"This cannot be,\" he said hoarsely. \"Dalmae, when did she-?\"\n\n\"Do not speak of my mother,\" Riv growled.\n\n\"Dalmae, your mother, tried to kill me,\" Kol snapped a sharp retort.\n\n\"Kol,\" Aphra interrupted, \"you swore tome, gave me your oath. Riv will not be harmed.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Kol said, \"but I never knew this.\" He looked at Riv with disgust. \"Elyon's Lore...\"\n\n\"Which you have broken a thousandfold already,\" Aphra hissed.\n\n\"I know, but this, we have spent a hundred years ensuring this did not happen.\"\n\nBleda glanced at the cairns in the glade.\n\n\"How did this happen?\" Kol continued. \"Who did Dalmae-?\"\n\nA burst of motion and wings, and suddenly Kol was sprawled upon the ground, Riv standing over him. \"I said, DO NOT SPEAK OF MY MOTHER!\" she screamed, spittle flying, muscles twitching and spasming in her face and body.\n\nOh dear.\n\nBleda had seen that look before: Riv's face contorted, enveloped within a red rage, when she had saved him from a beating, single-handedly laying waste to half a dozen opponents. It was as if she became someone else.\n\n\"You dare,\" Kol hissed as his legs lashed out, kicking Riv's feet from under her, at the same time his wings beating, lifting him gracefully back to his feet.\n\nRiv half fell, but her wings pulsed and she regained her balance."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You're not fighting an old woman this time,\" Riv yelled as she hurled herself at Kol.\n\nThey came together with a concussive crash, muscle, bone and wings slamming into each other, the two winged warriors such a maelstrom of fury and speed that for long moments Bleda was unable to track what was happening.\n\nThey separated, Kol rolling on the ground, Riv rising into the air, spear raised high.\n\nBen-Elim moved above Bleda.\n\n\"No,\" Kol snarled, palm raised to his kinsmen. Blood dripped from a cut above his eye. \"She's mine.\" Slowly he stood, gripped the hilt of the sword scabbarded at his hip, with a hiss of steel drew it, raised it high in a two-handed grip. \"Come, then,\" he called up to Riv, \"and have your revenge, if you can.\"\n\n\"NO,\" Aphra screamed, throwing herself at Kol. \"You swore Riv would not be harmed.\"\n\nAt a signal from Kol, two Ben-Elim swept forwards and grabbed Aphra, dragging her away. Aphra's cry of dismay was blotted out as with a screech of fury Riv all but fell from the air, a beat of her wings propelling her, then tucking in tight as she drove downwards, spear aimed straight at Kol's heart.\n\nThe Ben-Elim stood motionless as the speed of Riv's dive sent fallen leaves and forest litter swirling around him.\n\nHe's dead, skewered like a rat in a barrel, Bleda thought. And then, in a blur of motion, Kol was no longer there, a simple sidestep, Riv yelling, wings stretching wide to stop herself ploughing into the ground. With a beat and contraction of wings, she turned in the air, landed feet first, stumbled, spear hissing through the air, still searching for Kol's heart."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"There was aloud crack as Kol's sword sliced, Riv stumbling backwards, her spear chopped in two, one half in each hand. She looked at each half of the shaft, then with an incoherent howl launched herself at Kol, arms windmilling, both shafts striking at him. The Ben-Elim retreated before her, sparks flying as he deflected the spear-point, grunting as the shaft crunched into a shoulder, leaning back as the spearhead sliced through air, grazed his lip, the speed and fury of Riv's assault almost overwhelming him. Then, somehow, Kol was in the air above Riv, slashing down. Riv gave a cry of pain as Kol landed behind her, a boot sending her sprawling face-first to the ground.\n\nRiv rose to her hands and knees, one hand still clutching half of the spear shaft. Bleda felt a fist clench and twist in his gut as he saw blood leaking from a gash in Riv's shoulder. Her wings beat, helping her turn, but Kol was upon her, his sword slashing, the spear shaft spinning away, a boot in Riv's face sending her crashing back to the earth. Kol stood over her, sword raised high.\n\n\"Give your mother my wishes,\" he said.\n\nBleda drew his bowstring, aimed straight at Kol's heart.\n\nA blow to his arm and his arrow fell to the ground, Ellac's boot stamping and snapping the shaft.\n\n\"It's a fair fight, my Prince. Kol did not allow his own to intervene. Don't dishonour her,\" Ellac hissed, his one hand gripping Bleda's wrist.\n\n\"To the Otherworld with honour,\" Bleda hissed. \"It's Riv.\" He yanked at his wrist, but as much as Bleda struggled, he could not pull free; Ellac's grip was like iron. There was a frozen, terrible moment as Kol's sword slashed down at Riv."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"NO!\" someone screamed: Aphra, leaping forwards and grabbing Kol's forearm, hauling him off balance. \"You cannot.\"\n\n\"She's a wild animal,\" Kol snarled, blood dripping from his lip, one eye purpling and closing. He shoved Aphra away, a buffet of his wings sending her stumbling and falling to the ground. \"She must be put down like one.\"\n\n\"No, she's not,\" Aphra said, weeping now, holding Kol with her eyes. \"She's our daughter.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha paused at the treeline. The boughs were heavy and bending with snow.\n\nThe meadows were painted white, and beyond them rose the palisaded walls of Kergard, the most northerly town of the Desolation. Flames and black clouds of smoke belched from Kergard's heart, and on the cold wind Fritha heard screams. Figures moved on the palisade, pinpricks from this distance. One tumbled over the wall and rolled down a slope as something else leaped after it.\n\n\"My father has waited along time for this,\" Morn said behind Fritha.\n\n\"This is only the beginning,\" Fritha breathed, aflutter of excitement in her belly at the thought of her long-awaited vengeance being fulfilled, at the sounds of Gulla and his Revenants building their war-host. Though the sounds echoing from within Kergard's walls were terrible, it was not death and slaughter that was taking place.\n\nWell, death of a sort, but then rebirth, the people of Kergard made new. Made better.\n\nGunil grunted from above her, sitting upon his great bear, Claw. Both giant and bear were wounded, bandaged and in pain, but Fritha knew it would not hinder them. Behind Gunil another thirty fur-wrapped figures stood, acolytes that had followed Fritha from the south. They were hard men and women, all of them in someway scarred by the hand of the Ben-Elim, their own grudges and grievances setting them on the same path as Fritha. They had followed her into the heart of Drassil, where she had cut Asroth's frozen hand from his entombed body, and stood alongside her and fought Ben-Elim and giants. She did not doubt their courage or loyalty."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Together we are Asroth's Red Right Hand.\n\nHer eyes met Arn's, a dark-haired, hook-nosed man with streaks of grey in his beard. He'd been with Fritha the longest, he and Elise, his daughter who stood beside him. Almost since the beginning, close to six long years since the death of Fritha's bairn. They had found Fritha upon her knees, weeping in a pool of her own child's blood. Fritha pushed down the memories, refused to entertain them, just acknowledged the years of hardship, the myriad moments where she had stood with Arn and Elise against the Ben-Elim, fought together, protected each other's backs.\n\n\"Come,\" Morn said, \"I can hear my brother's voice in the wind, his blood calls tome. He must have his vengeance.\"\n\nFritha looked at Morn.\n\nShe has always been mercurial, but has her brother's death unhinged her?\n\n\"Aye,\" Fritha said and turned away from Kergard, walking around the bulk of Gunil and Claw and through the parting ranks of her followers. She looked west, where the forests that spilt down from the slopes of the Bonefells met the scarred plains of the Desolation. Her gaze shifted to marks in the snow at her feet and she dropped to one knee. Snow had been falling all night and most of the day, but not heavy nor deep enough to mask the tracks of a full-grown war bear of Dun Seren. Fritha dug a gloved hand into the snow, scraping the fresh layer away to reveal red stains in the ice beneath. She smiled and scooped up blood and ice.\n\nDrem and the others, they have fled west, sticking to the woodland to give themselves cover. Wise, when a Kadoshim half-breed will be searching for them from the skies. But it will not help them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Even if they were able to hide their tracks perfectly, Fritha knew she would find them. She rose and strode into the wooded shadows, where a score of shapes padded in the darkness, snuffling and growling. Her Ferals, the most manageable of her experiments, men, women and bairns taken from Kergard spliced together using blood magic with a wolven pack that had come south, fleeing the harsh winter of the Bonefells.\n\nShe crooned a command and one of the Ferals approached her with its crouched, loping gait. It was all muscle and patches of fur, yellowed teeth and claw. Fritha lifted her cupped hand with the blood from the bear to its muzzle and let it take a few deep, snorting breaths. Then it lifted it head to the wind, snuffling deeply, and howled. The other Ferals raised their heads and howled, too, a sound that echoed through the eerily muted forest, rising in volume and pitch until it enveloped Fritha's senses. It filled her with a deep, heartfelt joy.\n\n\"Ah, listen to them,\" Fritha said, smiling at Morn and Gunil, who did not seem to share her pleasure at the sound.\n\nThe howling died out and the first Feral set off at a loping run, the others close behind, quickly becoming ethereal shapes in the snowbound twilight of the forest.\n\n\"Come, Morn, you will have your revenge soon enough,\" Fritha said and set off after her pack, her acolytes falling into step behind her.\n\nMorn leaped into the air, wings powering her up into the snow-heavy sky, and Claw rumbled a growl, moving into a lumbering, limping stride."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Drem, I will find you soon, you and your new friends, and then you will regret spurning the offer I made to you."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv sat at a table in the woodsman's hut, staring at nothing as Fia stitched a deep gash in her shoulder. Fia's baby, Avi, lay in a cot close by, snoring gently, oblivious to the momentous events that had happened around him.\n\nWill Kol kill him, now, bury him beneath a cairn alongside his kin? My kin.\n\nWill he execute me? Kill my friends?\n\nVoices outside. Riv glowered at the door.\n\nThe battle was all something of a blur to her, a scarlet haze of blood and rage. That had faded now, replaced by exhaustion and shock, but she knew the red mist lurking in the dark places of her mind was still there, a hidden monster veiled in shadow. She had a vague memory of the world freezing at Aphra's announcement, Kol's sword hovering, his face twitching. She had felt her breath leave her, the adrenalin of the fight abandoning her, draining her strength and leaving her empty, drooping like a windless sail. Then hands reaching for her, lifting her, half-carrying her to the woodsman's hut. There was blood under her fingernails, on her clothes, her wings, the stench of it in her nose, the copper tang of it in her mouth. Her body ached, a score of cuts and grazes. A few deeper wounds, like the one Fia was stitching for her. She didn't care about any of it, hardly felt the pain of Fia's hooked needle weaving in and out of her flesh. All she could focus on was...\n\nShe is our daughter.\n\nNausea churned in her belly.\n\nOur daughter.\n\nRaised voices outside, angry."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Is that Vald? What are they doing to my friends? Bleda? Jost?\n\nThe anger stirred and she half rose from her stool, realized that her wrists were chained behind her back. She snarled, flexed her arms, knew that she could have snapped ropes, but chains...\n\nThey just might take me a little longer.\n\nFia gripped her wrist.\n\n\"Please,\" Fia whispered. \"Wait. Go out there now and you will get us all killed.\"\n\nRiv stared at her, took along, shuddering breath and sat back down, involuntary twitches passing through her wings, an expression of her mood.\n\nThe door opened and Aphra walked in, eyes fixed only on Riv.\n\nShe is our daughter...\n\nEverything I know is a lie. Aphra, who are you? Are you truly my mother?\n\nDalmae washer mother, Aphra her sister, whom she had bickered with, admired, loved, fought with, teased, and worshipped more than a little.\n\nNot anymore.\n\n\"I am sorry. So sorry,\" Aphra said, a tremor in her voice. Tentatively, she reached a hand towards Riv.\n\nRiv flinched away and Aphra's hand jerked back to her side.\n\nFia tied off her stitching, bit off the thread, dabbed in some honey and bandaged the wound.\n\n\"There is so much to say, to tell you,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"Aye. Of how you've lied tome, all of my life,\" Riv grated through locked jaws.\n\nA tear welled in Aphra's eye, spilt onto her cheek."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"All I've done has only ever been to keep you safe,\" Aphra whispered.\n\n\"Safe? That hasn't worked out too well,\" Riv observed. She pointedly looked at the fresh-stitched wound on her shoulder, the mass of cuts and grazes allover her body, the blood, everywhere. \"Mam murdered.\" She passed a slow ripple through her furled wings. \"Mean abomination, at the top of the execution list.\"\n\nThe door opened again and Kol entered. Afresh wave of hate and rage swelled in Riv's chest at the sight of him, anew tension filling the air, the presence of imminent death a palpable thing. Two Ben-Elim followed Kol and remained standing at the door as he limped towards them. Riv felt a moment of satisfaction as she saw one of his eyes was swollen closed and mottled purple with bruising, a scab forming on his lip.\n\nHe stood before the table, looking between them. A murmur from the baby in his cot drew Kol's eyes. Fia took a step, placed herself between Kol and the bairn. Kol stared at Fia along moment. \"Adonai's child?\" he asked.\n\n\"He is. His name is Avi,\" Fia said defiantly.\n\n\"He should be cold and in the ground,\" Kol said, a sneer curling his lip as he stared at Fia's baby. \"You knew the price when you joined with Adonai. I made it clear to you.\"\n\n\"You did,\" Fia said, \"and I agreed because I was a fool, infatuated with Adonai, blinded by the radiance of you Ben-Elim. I felt I was being loved by a god.\"\n\nKol smiled. \"In Elyon's absence, we are the closest you mortals will ever come to a god.\""},{"from":"human","value":"His arrogance makes me want to vomit."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Or kill him, thought Riv.\n\n\"So why have you not fulfilled your part of the bargain?\" Kol asked, looking genuinely confused. \"You may love us, but consequences such as... this-\" Kol gestured-\"cannot seethe light of day. Israfil would have had our heads, and yours. He maybe dead, but there are others amongst the Ben-Elim who share his puritanical ways.\"\n\n\"Love changed my mind,\" Fia said, eyes flickering to Avi and back to Kol.\n\nKol gave Fia a disgusted look and took a shuddering breath. His gaze shifted to Riv, to her wings. He shook his head.\n\nShe glared at him, tested her chains. They were infuriatingly strong.\n\n\"We have much to talk about,\" Kol said. \"Sit down, all of you,\" he muttered. \"And you, behave yourself,\" he said to Riv. With a grimace of pain, he sat, facing all three of them.\n\n\"So, Aphra, explain our daughter.\"\n\n\"It's plain enough,\" Aphra said, her eyes dipping to the floor. An indrawn breath, shoulders straightening, eyes rising to meet Kol's.\n\nHis mouth twisted. \"That cannot be, I would have known-\" His eyes narrowed and he snapped his fingers. \"When Dalmae took you on campaign to the Agullas Mountains?\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Aphra nodded.\n\n\"Lorin?\" Riv said. All her life she had thought the White-Wing had been her father. She had asked Aphra to tell her tales of her da, so many times.\n\n\"Lorin was not your father,\" Aphra said, looking at Riv. Aphra drew in a deep breath, as she had when Riv was about to leap into the icy waters of the river Vold, north of Drassil. \"He was my father, but not yours. Kol is your father.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv just stared at Aphra, unable to squeeze words past the constriction in her throat.\n\n\"And Dalmae?\" Kol said, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. \"What washer part in all of this?\"\n\n\"It was all my mother's-your grandmother,\" Aphra directed to Riv. \"It was all her idea.\"\n\nMy grandmother. Another new fact that felt startlingly, shockingly, wrong.\n\n\"We were on campaign in the Agullas Mountains,\" Aphra was saying, \"fighting an uprising of rebels who wanted the land of Tenebral reformed, wanted to split from the Ben-Elim's Land of the Faithful. My father, Lorin, was slain during an ambush. We were grieving, Mam and I, and at the same time I knew that your seed was growing in my belly, had known before we left Drassil. The grief of losing my father... I was a mess, felt at my wits\" end, and it just spilt out. I told Mam everything. About you, Kol, about the coterie of Ben-Elim that you had gathered to yourself, those that shared your... tastes. The secret meetings, the mock campaigns you took us on.\"\n\n\"There are many of us,\" Kol said with a twitching smile, a quick glance to the two Ben-Elim standing guard at the door. \"And even more, now that Israfil is no longer around to take our wings or our heads.\" His smile withered. \"But how did you hide it? Even amongst Dalmae's hundred, tongues would have wagged. Your belly...\"\n\n\"Mother handed her command down, gave it to her second, and said we were taking my father's body back to his kin in Ripa. Which we did, but then we left and lived alone in the forests around Balara for some months.\" She paused, looked at Riv. \"They were happy times. And then you were born, which was my greatest joy.\" Her hand reached out again, hesitant, stopping at Riv's dark look. She sucked in along breath."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Then we went back to Dalmae's hundred, where she told them she had been pregnant with Lorin's bairn. They rejoiced for her, and just like that, I had anew sister and was no longer a mother. Except inhere.\" She put fingertips over her heart.\n\n\"Lie upon lie upon lie,\" Riv growled.\n\n\"I had to,\" Aphra said to her desperately, \"it was that or see you murdered. You just heard Kol talk of the agreement between us privileged few who were invited to partake of the Ben-Elim's greatness. We could love the Ben-Elim, but if we ended up with child, then we had to eradicate that... consequence, as Kol put it. That was no choice at all for me.\"\n\n\"It is not much of a sacrifice to make.\" Kol shrugged.\n\n\"You may have become flesh,\" Aphra growled, \"but you are not acquainted with that quality that makes us human. Love. Bonds of family and friendship.\"\n\nKol snorted. \"Whatever frail, pathetic emotion guided you in your deception, you did it well. I never knew or suspected a thing,\" he said, blowing between his teeth.\n\n\"You could not,\" Aphra said to him. To both of them she said, \"Else Riv's corpse would have been out there lying beneath a cairn alongside all of the others. I could not, would not, do that.\"\n\n\"There is still time for that,\" Kol said, shooting Riv a flat look.\n\n\"Like to see you try,\" Riv growled, rattling the chains that bound her wrists.\n\n\"You are an abomination, Elyon's Lore demands your execution,\" Kol snarled.\n\n\"Yes, but I am your abomination, the get of a sin that you have committed, for which the same Lore demands that you should be executed, too.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Kol and Riv glared atone another, hatred leaking in waves from both of them, their malice towards one another almost a physical thing."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then he did something that took Riv by surprise. He leaned back and laughed.\n\n\"A fair point,\" he said. \"Fortunately for me,\" Kol continued, \"I am now as good as the Lord Protector of the Land of the Faithful, so I do not have to be so rigorous about maintaining a Lore that would see my head on a spike. You, however, area problem. Lore or no Lore, there is no hiding your wings.\" He took a moment to consider them. \"You could never pass fora Ben-Elim, they are dapple grey, not white, and of course,\" he added, \"you're a woman.\"\n\nRiv blinked at that; all of the Ben-Elim were male. She felt abruptly so alone, a half-breed, but also the only woman to have wings.\n\nThe joy of flight is a blessing, but in all other ways I am cursed.\n\nKol shook his head. \"Even forgetting your wings, your gender and your... heritage, you have slain Ben-Elim, taken the lives of the Faithful-\"\n\n\"As have you,\" Riv interrupted.\n\n\"Ah, all this one does is keep pointing out my shortcomings. I am not perfect, true,\" Kol said, shaking his head and spreading his arms wide.\n\nIs he enjoying this?\n\n\"But you have slain my followers, out therein the glade,\" Kol continued. \"There must be a price for that. And you area problem that I can only see is best solved by taking your head and burying you in a ditch.\"\n\n\"There are other options,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"Yes. I could bury you in a ditch,\" Riv said bitterly to Kol.\n\nAphra slammed a fist on the table. \"Shut up, Riv,\" she said. \"You're not helping.\" She took a deep, shuddering breath. \"I am trying to save you.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Don't bother, liar,\" Riv retorted.\n\n\"Life is not as clear as you see it,\" Aphra said. \"You would be hard-pressed to find someone who has not lied, at some point in their life. All lie, it is the why that is important.\"\n\n\"Israfil never lied,\" Riv said.\n\n\"And look where that got him,\" Kol said.\n\nRiv turned her glower upon him.\n\n\"It has been a dark, confusing time. Sometimes there is no easy or obvious path.\" Aphra sighed, rubbing a hand across her forehead, squeezing her temples.\n\n\"Seems simple enough tome,\" Riv said. \"Israfil was the Lord Protector, Kol schemed and murdered him. And my mother.\" Her lips twisted. \"Grandmother.\"\n\n\"The impetuosity of youth,\" Kol observed, \"when all is so clear, so easy to judge.\"\n\n\"Riv, please see, please think. I have lived sixteen years with you, a path of joy as I have watched you grow, and sadness that I could not hold you, as I yearned to, always stepping aside, to be the sister, not the mother. But that was better than not having you at all, always so much better.\"\n\n\"But you've lied tome.\"\n\n\"Yes, I have,\" Aphra said, \"to keep you alive. You would do the same, too, for someone you loved.\"\n\nRiv felt something shift in her then, the words crashing into her like a battering ram at the doors of her heart. A swell of emotion that fora change was not rage. The doors held fast, but something in them had cracked, a hairline fracture through her rage and resolve. She ground her teeth, angry with herself for feeling even a moment of weakness in her hatred, for the lies Aphra had told, the terrible damage she had wrought. Yet part of her understood, knew that there was a logic to Aphra's actions."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But it has all led to Mother's, to Dalmae's death. To Israfil's death. To changing everything.\n\n\"I hate you,\" Riv said to Aphra. Then looked slow and cold at Kol. \"And I want to kill you.\"\n\nKol threw his head back and belly-laughed.\n\n\"Tell me something I don't already know,\" he said when his laughter eased enough that he could speak.\n\n\"The way forward,\" Aphra said doggedly.\n\n\"Aye,\" Kol nodded. \"As much as this is all very entertaining, I have a realm to rule, and it is not simple, believe me. You think this is complicated? You should try ruling the Banished Lands fora day.\" He pinched the top of his nose between finger and thumb. \"Technically, I am not even ruler yet. I have not been officially named Lord Protector.\" He smiled at them. \"But I will be. So, Aphra. You said that I have options. The obvious one is to kill Riv, Fia and... this.\" Kol gestured with a hand at Avi in his cot.\n\n\"Do that and you will have to kill me, also,\" Aphra said, and for the first time there was no diplomacy in her voice. Just a fact.\n\nKol stared at her, his face shifting to something cold and aloof. Calculating.\n\n\"I could do that,\" Kol said.\n\n\"Aye. But you would have to kill my hundred, as well.\"\n\n\"Yes. A difficult task, and one where I would take losses. But, again, I could do that.\"\n\nAphra nodded. \"In doing so you would be killing anally and losing a hundred swords that would stand beside you in the difficult days ahead.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Kol dipped his head, an acknowledgement.\n\n\"And then there would be the matter of the parchments I have written,\" Aphra continued, \"that will be sent far and wide, telling of what you have done, including fathering half-breeds.\"\n\nKol's lips twisted, shifting to fury.\n\n\"You would threaten me?\"\n\n\"As you did me, to join you against Israfil, told me it was in my interest to support you, that I would die if I did not. This is no different.\" Aphra's hands didn't move, but Riv could seethe threat of violence rolling from Aphra in waves.\n\n\"I did not threaten you. I told you Israfil would execute you if he found out our secret.\"\n\nAphra snorted. \"It was a threat.\"\n\nKol shrugged, dismissing the point. \"Where are these parchments?\"\n\n\"Safe,\" Aphra said, \"with people I trust. The first place they will reach is Dun Seren. The Order of the Bright Star would find it all most interesting.\"\n\n\"You would jeopardize the war against the Kadoshim?\"\n\n\"I would not care. I would be dead, and all that I love would be dead.\"\n\n\"Humans.\" Kol sighed. \"Always ruled by your emotions.\" He drummed fingers on the table. \"And the alternative?\"\n\n\"Change things.\" Aphra shrugged. \"Anew order, where the boundaries between Ben-Elim and humankind are not so... fixed. That is what you are doing now, anyway. This would just be more obvious.\"\n\n\"Yes, you have that right,\" Kol said, looking at Riv's wings.\n\n\"You have carried out a coup, killed Israfil, taken the lordship of the Ben-Elim for yourself. You are in charge, now.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes, but it doesn't mean I can do this. Not all of the Ben-Elim are behind me; my power is not consolidated yet.\"\n\n\"It will be. You have a thousand Ben-Elim declaring their support for you already. The rest will follow. You said yourself, now that Israfil is dead, more will be happy for your new way to begin. You and your kind will be enjoying the pleasures this world of flesh gives, having relations with humankind, as you have already been doing fora hundred years, but more openly. But there will still be consequences, there will be more bairns born, more than ever before. You cannot keep it all a secret any longer, or do you plan to kill them all?\"\n\n\"No,\" Kol said, \"but I was planning on taking the stepson this path slowly, a gentle slope into change, not a cliff-leap to jagged rocks and possible execution.\"\n\n\"Better to just do it, get it over with and enjoy the fruits of your victory.\"\n\nHe rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully. \"And there is Elyon's Lore,\" he added.\n\n\"Is it really Elyon's Lore? Or is it the Ben-Elim's lore, fashioned to create a world that suited the Ben-Elim? To establish the boundaries that you wanted, the obedience you needed to fight the Kadoshim?\"\n\nKol raised an eyebrow. \"Good point.\" He smiled. \"Clever as well as beautiful.\"\n\nI cannot believe what I am hearing.\n\nAphra is proposing Kol change the doctrines that have ruled our lives fora hundred years.\n\nBut if they area lie, made up to keep control, then why not change them? Why follow them at all.\n\n\"You change Elyon's Lore as you are changing everything else,\" Aphra said. \"You would not need to declare it to the world, just quietly remove those parts from the texts. What is it you have often said tome? People are sheep. So, you lead, and everyone else will follow.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Kol inhaled, long and slow, then turned his eyes onto Riv.\n\n\"And what do you say to all of this, daughter?\" he asked her.\n\nRiv wanted to punch him in the face for that, though at the same time she felt some strange reluctance seep through her limbs.\n\nDaughter.\n\nHe's my father.\n\nAnd I hate him.\n\n\"What do you want of me?\" Riv said, her gaze flitting from Kol to Aphra.\n\n\"That you refrain from trying to kill me, if I take those chains off,\" Kol said.\n\nThat will be hard.\n\n\"To understand,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"He killed Dalmae,\" Riv whispered, sparks of hatred fizzing out of the fiery rage within her.\n\n\"Yes, he did. It was a battle, she died. My heart is broken for her loss, a thousand times over. But I would not lose you, too.\" Aphra's hand reached out, touched Riv's leg, and this time Riv did not pull away.\n\nPart of her understood Aphra's logic, knew that there was sense and truth in it, and now there was apart of her that wanted to hold Aphra, to hug her and squeeze her and never let her go.\n\nBut the other part of her wanted to punch, smash and stab something.\n\nNo, not something. Kol.\n\nI just feel so angry, more than I've ever felt before. Kol was a hero tome, someone I admired, no, revered, respected as a warrior, a leader. Kol is nothing like the man I thought him to be. He is a liar and a murderer.\n\nI can understand what Aphra is saying, how she has been caught in a place with noway out, has made choices for those she loves. For me."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And she's right, I would do much for those whom I love. But would I do anything, as Aphra has for me?\n\n\"What of Bleda?\" Riv said slowly. \"Of my friends, Vald and Jost?\"\n\n\"What of them?\"\n\n\"They are only here because they have chosen to help me. They should not be harmed for that,\" Riv said, trying to hold back the rage that she felt at Kol's indifferent response.\n\n\"They have made poor choices.\" He scowled. \"Slain my Ben-Elim; that cannot go unpunished.\"\n\n\"Bleda's oathsworn lie dead out there, too,\" Riv growled.\n\nHurt Bleda and I shall break these chains and wrap them around your throat, make your eyes pop from your skull.\n\n\"Punish Bleda and you risk war with Erdene and the Sirak,\" Aphra added. \"You would win, but how easily? And do you need a war right now, with the Kadoshim stirring, and your position needing consolidating?\"\n\nA silence.\n\n\"No, I do not need a war,\" Kol conceded.\n\n\"People die in battle,\" Aphra said. \"Afterwards there is reconciliation. Pardon them all, for the sake of peace, grant an absolution to all who have fought in these troubles.\"\n\n\"Peace, absolution,\" Kol echoed. \"My instinct is to exterminate all who have caused me grief, but there is much wisdom in what you've said. Aphra, fora pretty human, there is some wisdom in that skull of yours.\"\n\nAphra said nothing, just looked at Kol.\n\n\"And you,\" Kol said, turning to Riv. \"Would you cooperate? Not attempt to kill me? Swear your oath tome?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Another silence.\n\nAll I have thought about is killing you. But I do not have to do it straightaway.\n\n\"I will not try to kill you,\" Riv said sullenly.\n\nNot yet, she promised herself.\n\n\"If Bleda and the others are not harmed,\" she added.\n\n\"Your oath,\" Kol said, more firmly. \"I must have your oath, swearing fealty tome. Loyalty and obedience.\"\n\nHow can I swear an oath to him? Bind myself to him? I would truly be giving up my vengeance. Turning my back on Dalmae.\n\nBut she is dead, gone, as Aphra said. And Bleda is alive, Jost and Vald are alive. But for how long?\n\n\"Your friends will thank you,\" Kol said.\n\nRiv drew in a deep breath, felt she was about to leap into a pit of adders.\n\n\"And my oath.\"\n\nKol held her eyes a moment longer, then nodded to himself. \"Good,\" he said. \"Then swear your oath, and seal it in blood.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Pine trees thinned, a glare of sky and swirl of snow making Drem blink as they rode out of the twilight cover of the forest into a small clearing. Reining in his horse and twisting in his saddle, he looked back. Cullen dismounted and led his horse to a stream that frothed and foamed its icy way down from the Bonefells that reared above them, brooding guardians of the north. Keld was ahead, but he paused, too, with a click of his tongue guided his horseback to Drem. Fen loped after him. Hammer was somewhere off in the trees.\n\n\"What is it?\" Keld asked.\n\nDrem squinted and stared into the distance. For sometime, they had been climbing steadily into the foothills that preceded the Bonefells, trees turning from oak to pine as they gained altitude. The cold, ice-laced air felt thinner, Drem's chest burning when he drew in a full breath.\n\n\"Not sure,\" Drem muttered. Something had made him pause and look back. \"There,\" he said, pointing.\n\nA day and a half had passed since they'd said farewell to the white crow, Rab, and now they were high above the plain that Kergard sat upon. With a jolt, Drem realized that they were not far from the place where he and his father had once been attacked by a great white bear. He worked it out: only five moons had passed since that fateful day when they'd found a lump of starstone rock beneath the elk pit Drem had been digging. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and a different world. Certainly he felt like a different person. Drem's hand drifted up to the bear claw hanging around his neck. He'd chopped it from the white bear as it rampaged past him. Then his da had hauled him onto his shoulder and carried Drem to safety."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It feels as if Da's whole life was spent saving me or protecting me. He rested a hand upon the bone hilt of his seax, something about it comforting after what he'd recently learned. In someways he still is.\n\n\"I see it,\" Keld said.\n\nA flare of red firelight, bright in the all-white, just a flicker far in the distance, then it was gone, cutoff by a curtain of swirling snow.\n\n\"I think that's where Kergard should be,\" Drem said, though it was hard to tell.\n\nCullen joined them, drinking from afresh-filled water skin. He pushed the hood of his fur-lined cloak back, and looked up at the sky, snow dappling his cheeks. He stuck out his tongue, snowflakes landing and melting upon it.\n\n\"Ah, but I love the snow,\" Cullen said. His red hair was starting to grow back in tufts and clumps on his head.\n\nKeld just shook his head.\n\nAs Drem stared into the distance, more flickers of firelight appeared, scattered across the plain south of Kergard.\n\nKeld was staring, too.\n\n\"What is that?\" Cullen asked, seeing the flare and flicker of light on the plain.\n\n\"Kergard burns,\" Drem said.\n\n\"Aye, and a dozen holds south of Kergard,\" Keld added. \"Gulla is hiding no longer.\"\n\nDrem felt a frustrated anger radiating through him. There were people down there that he knew, had traded with, had lived alongside, and Gulla and his horde were murdering them.\n\nOr worse. He shivered as he remembered Gulla and his Revenants."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We could help them,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Too many of them, even for you,\" Keld said, glancing at Cullen. \"But we can help those further south, by getting to Dun Seren and telling Byrne what is happening.\"\n\n\"Let's be on with it, then,\" Drem said, a sense of futility and frustration burning in his belly.\n\nHammer emerged from the trees, bending and snapping branches. She scratched a paw on the ground.\n\nFen growled, head cocked to one side, ears twitching.\n\n\"What is it, lad?\" Keld asked, one hand resting on an axe-head at his belt.\n\nOut of the snow and wind a sound reached them, an ululating howl, rising and falling on the wind.\n\n\"Wolven?\" Drem breathed, knowing instantly that he was wrong. The sound was similar, but twisted somehow. Deeper, more frantic.\n\nMore howls, in the distance, yet not faraway enough for Drem's liking. Shapes moving amidst the trees much further down the slope. The shadowed bulk of something bigger behind them.\n\n\"Ferals,\" Keld said.\n\nA hiss as Cullen drew his sword.\n\n\"What do we do?\" Drem asked, wings of fear fluttering in his belly.\n\nKeld stared into the trees. Drem, following his gaze, saw more shapes solidifying than he was happy about. A dozen, more.\n\n\"I think we can take them,\" Cullen said, afire in his eyes as he bounced on the balls of his feet and gave his sword a lazy turn with his wrist.\n\nWe are clearly outnumbered and cannot win.\n\n\"We run,\" Keld said. \"Quick, help me with Hammer's harness and saddle.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha's breath was loud in her ears, her heart a drum in her chest. She was surrounded by snow and ice, but her leathers and furs were warm, her bearskin cloak a weight upon her shoulders, and she felt exhilarated by the thrill of the chase. She was close to catching Drem and his companions, she knew, the behaviour of her Ferals spurring heron. They were as excited by the hunt as she was, snapping and growling, some bounding on ahead up the steep incline, only returning reluctantly at her stern summons.\n\nThey're excited, like hounds scenting their prey, close to the kill.\n\n\"We are close,\" Gunil said. He was striding beside her, Claw lumbering behind.\n\nAn ear-splitting roar echoed through the forest, sending crows flapping and squawking from branches, making Fritha and her crew pause in their tracks.\n\nThat was a bear.\n\n\"Best mount up,\" Fritha said to Gunil, then without checking to see if he obeyed or not, she broke into a loping stride, her acolytes increasing their speed with her, the remaining Ferals bursting with the urge to run and kill, looking from her to the sounds filtering down to them, like hounds pulling on a leash.\n\nA bright light was glaring through the treeline. She drew a short-sword at her hip, felt more comfortable with it than the Starstone Sword, which she left in its scabbard, and barked a command. Her Ferals leaped into a sprint while she and her acolytes spread into a wider line after them, Arn and Elise either side of her. She heard the crash of Gunil and Claw somewhere behind."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\\nAuthor: John Gwynne\\nTitle: A Time of Blood\\nChapter: 7\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha's eyes lingered on the creature of two worlds: part human, part Kadoshim. Her dark hair was shaved short to her scalp, just as Fritha's and the secret many that followed the Kadoshim. Morn's head was bowed, but Fritha could seethe streaks that tears had channelled through the blood and grime thick upon her face. Her brother, Ulfang, lay upon the piled wood, his wings wrapped around him, a sword resting upon his chest. He had been slain during the fighting last night, by Drem. Many died last night, including Sig. Fritha felt a twist in her belly at the thought of the giant, a measure of pride that her hand had dealt Sig her deathblow.\\n\\nSig, vaunted champion of the Bright Star, just food for crows now, because of me.\\n\\nFritha had stared into Sig's eyes as she'd slowly thrust her blade deep, seen the pain, the flutter of life as it had left the giant. But the death had not satisfied Fritha as she had hoped it would; it had done little to fill the gaping hole inside her that screamed to be slaked with death and torment. Perhaps it was the way the giant had died that had marred Fritha's pleasure-not begging or screaming. Sig's last words had been a defiance, even if they were little more than a whispered breath upon her lips.\\n\\n\\\"Truth and courage,\\\" Fritha repeated to herself, then spat on the snow as if the very words tasted foul.\\n\\nAll part of the Great Lie.\\n\\nMorn thrust a flaming torch into the pyre, the falling snow hissed and steamed as tongues of fire crackled and writhed. Smoke billowed, in heartbeats the stench of burning wood and flesh mingled, swirling about the lakeshore, and Morn lifted her head and howled her grief to the snow-laden sky.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha walked past Morn in silence, Gunil's heavy footsteps crunching behind her as they passed through an open gateway in a stockaded wall, entering the mining complex. Lines of smoke still blackened the sky, timber frames charred and collapsing as she strode across the complex, making her way through a sprawl of buildings to the open square where the ritual had taken place, where Gulla had been changed, transformed.\\n\\nBecome the first Revenant.\\n\\nFritha shuddered at the memory of it, feeling a mixture of fear and exhilaration as she remembered the giant bat being nailed to the table, the excitement she'd felt coursing through her as she'd held a blade to Gulla's throat, the jet of blood. And then Asroth's severed hand, the power of his blood.\\n\\nWe did it.\\n\\nI did it.\\n\\nThe courtyard opened up before her; afresh layer of snow covered the gore-spattered ground. At the northern end stood a thick-legged table, long and broad, pools of blood, bodies and dismembered limbs still scattered across it. They were testament not only to last night's battle, but also to the many moons of laboured experimentation and muttered spells that had been undertaken, the transformation of men and beasts into something... more. Fritha felt a flush of joy just looking at it, for she loved her work. To transform, to create.\\n\\nOne of the results of those experiments prowled past Fritha, something part man, part beast, a creature of tooth and claw, hunched and muscled, limbs elongated. A Feral being. It glanced at Fritha, paused as it bared its teeth, long and blood-crusted, nostrils flaring on its muzzle as it drew in her scent. A tremored growl as it recognized her and paced closer, dropping its head to her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha reached out and stroked the Feral's cheek.\\n\\n\\\"My baby,\\\" she whispered, and the Feral pushed against her hand, a moment's affection, and then it was loping away and disappearing into the shadows.\\n\\nFritha walked around a mound of piled corpses, acolytes fallen in the battle, limbs twisted together in a macabre embrace. Their bodies steamed in the winter cold. Too many to count, though Fritha thought over a score of their number lay there, and still more were being carried in from the edges of the camp, a trail of the dead marking where Sig and her companions had carved a path to the stockade wall and made their escape.\\n\\nHow could they slay so many?\\n\\nFour against many-over fifty acolytes and a score of my Ferals.\\n\\nSig and her companions had wreaked such havoc amongst them last night: three men, a giant bear, a wolven and a talking crow. They had fled into the night while the giantess Sig stood and bought them time with her sword.\\n\\nFritha shook her head, could still hardly believe it, though the growing pile of the slain was a stark reminder that her mind had not exaggerated last night's events.\\n\\nThe dead tell no lies.\\n\\nA crowd stood gathered about a figure beyond the table, tall and dark-haired, wings furled behind his back.\\n\\nGulla, Lord of the Kadoshim.\\n\\nFritha strode purposefully towards him, and shaven-haired acolytes parted for her. This was the first time she had observed Gulla clearly since last night; even he had not gone unscathed. A bandage wrapped his once-handsome, sharp-angled face, covering the ruin of his eye-socket where one of the Bright Star's talking crows had taken an eye. But it was the ritual which had marked him most: his whole body was transformed, taller, limbs elongated. His muscles coiled like rope about his frame, each striation and fibre visible, veins pulsing, and a shadow seemed to edge him, like a dark halo. Fritha's eyes were drawn to Gulla's mouth, which appeared wider, the hint of too many teeth behind stretched skin, and the tips of two sharp canines protruding from his lips. Across his throat was a raw scar, scabbed and weeping a translucent pus, where Fritha had cut his throat and slain him, all the while speaking her spells of blood and bone.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And now he is reborn, the first Revenant-anew creation fora new type of war.\\n\\n\\\"My Lord,\\\" Fritha said as she reached him, dipping her head.\\n\\n\\\"Priestess,\\\" Gulla said. Even his voice was changed after last night's ceremony. Where once it had been deep and resonant, now it was a whispered hiss, as if Fritha heard it inside her head, scratching within her skull.\\n\\nMen and women stood about Gulla, seven figures gazing at him with something akin to worship. Last night they had been human, but now, like him, they were something more. Gulla had turned them, drunk their blood and transformed them into anew creation. Into a weapon.\\n\\nA weapon that will change this world.\\n\\nThey stood about, all of them trembling like newborn colts, as if they had not yet learned to master their bodies. One of them took a juddering step forwards. He had once been Ulf the tanner, one of the lords of Kergard, a large town west of the mine, built upon the banks of Starstone Lake. Now he was Ulf the Revenant, one of the Seven, disciple of Gulla.\\n\\n\\\"Hungry,\\\" Ulf hissed. The others behind him grunted their agreement.\\n\\nGulla smiled.\\n\\n\\\"We did it,\\\" Fritha said, feeling a smile spread across her own face.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, Priestess,\\\" Gulla said. \\\"You did it. I never doubted you.\\\"\\n\\nDid you not? Even when I held my blade to your throat? she asked silently. I doubted myself, for so long. But no more. She looked at the great table, stained black from the lifeblood of a thousand experiments, her eyes moving to the cliff face behind them, set with iron bars and shadow-filled cages. Caves burrowed deep into the cliff, home to a hundred more cages, where other of her experiments lived. And bred.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Soon they will multiply. Where there are ten, there will be a hundred, where a hundred, soon a thousand.\\n\\nA dull thud resounded, a puff of dust as cage bars rattled and ground at the stone they were set into. A Feral glowered out from the darkness behind those bars, then wrapped its teeth around thick iron and wrenched at it, trying to chew its way through the bones of the earth. Blood mingled with saliva and froth as the Feral heaved and tore at its cage, but the bars held.\\n\\nFritha smiled at it, like a mother at a mischievous child.\\n\\nNot all of my experiments have been so successful, not all of my children can be trusted to prowl amongst us.\\n\\nHer eyes returned to Gulla, full of anew, unholy fire.\\n\\nBut you, you are my greatest achievement.\\n\\nThus far.\\n\\n\\\"There will be no stopping us, now.\\\" Gulla grinned. \\\"They will head for Dun Seren.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They will,\\\" Fritha agreed.\\n\\n\\\"They must not reach it. Our enemies cannot learn of...\\\" He paused, fingertips brushing his fangs, caressing. \\\"Me,\\\" he finished.\\n\\n\\\"They cannot,\\\" Fritha agreed. \\\"It is too soon, too early.\\\"\\n\\nA gust of wind and beating of wings, and Morn swept down from the sky, landing amidst them with a swirl of fresh-fallen snow. Fritha tasted ash and ice.\\n\\n\\\"I will hunt my brother's killer,\\\" Morn said, muscled shoulders hunched and twitching as she glowered up at Gulla, as if daring him to deny her.\\n\\nDrem, you mean, Fritha thought, remembering the young huntsman who had cast the spear that sent Ulfang crashing from the night sky. A shiver of emotion rippled through her at the thought of Drem. He had been her neighbour fora time.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"And my friend.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The word sounded strange, even in the veiled darkness of her mind.\\n\\nShe had seen something in Drem's eyes when he'd looked at her. Not desire, or greed, or lust; that she was used to from men. There had been something deeper.\\n\\nFriendship.\\n\\nSomething kind.\\n\\nIn Drem, Fritha had seen someone searching fora kinship, for meaning, and fora time she'd thought she was the one to give it to him. She'd hoped to win him over, to show him how life was not black and white, that there was more to the Kadoshim than the nightmare tales spoken of them around fires in the dead of night. But it was not to be. Last night Drem had tried to kill her, had sworn that he would.\\n\\nAll things come to an end, Fritha thought bitterly. He could have been mine, should have been mine.\\n\\nBut Drem had chosen a different path, one that would involve slaying her, if his words last night were anything to go by.\\n\\nWe all make our choices. And truth be told, I cannot blame him. I did cause the death of his father.\\n\\nIt had been Drem's father, Olin, who had found and forged the Starstone Sword that Fritha now wore at her hip. The taking of it had meant Olin's death.\\n\\nBut I spared Drem, when I could have cut his throat or had him carved into a thousand pieces. That should have counted for something.\\n\\n\\\"Ulfang will be avenged,\\\" Gulla continued. Something shifted across Morn's face, part snarl, part smile, and she flexed her wings and bent her knees as if to take to the air and begin the hunt that very moment.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha snorted.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Grief has clouded her wits. It will take more than one half-breed Kadoshim to put the heads of Drem and his companions in a sack.\\n\\n\\\"But not alone,\\\" Gulla said, a hand snaking out to grip Morn's shoulder. \\\"Gunil and his bear will accompany you, and Fritha will lead.\\\" The Kadoshim's eyes shifted to her. \\\"Fritha, gather your followers, gather your Red Right Hand.\\\" He paused, a twitch at the corners of his mouth hinting at a smile. It was the name Fritha had given to those acolytes and Ferals that she had led into Drassil, who had fought for her and helped her to cut Asroth's iron-encased hand from his frozen arm.\\n\\nMorn glared at Gulla, mouth spasming, but Gulla held her gaze.\\n\\n\\\"I share your pain, daughter,\\\" Gulla said, \\\"but you cannot accomplish this alone, and I would not lose you also. Fritha will command. Together you shall hunt them, and together you shall end them.\\\"\\n\\nMorn's mouth twisted, a growling sound leaking from her throat, but she dipped her head in submission.\\n\\n\\\"Will you not lead us, my Lord?\\\" Fritha asked.\\n\\n\\\"Me? No,\\\" Gulla said. He looked at the seven Revenants surrounding him, his firstborn. \\\"I am for Kergard; I have an army to build.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bleda reached for his bow as Ben-Elim swept down from above, great winged silhouettes blotting out the sky, too many to count. Fia had disappeared inside the cabin, Jost and Vald were stumbling to their feet and running to Riv, who stood frozen, staring at Aphra. Ellac was standing, shouting orders, a curved sword in his one hand, and then a group of Bleda's honour guard were running into the glade and arrows were hissing from the shadows, up at the Ben-Elim.\\n\\nThere was a cry of pain and one of the winged warriors crashed through branches and plummeted to the ground, landing in an explosion of twigs. The Ben-Elim staggered to one knee, an arrow lodged deep in the meat between neck and shoulder. Before Bleda could blink, Ellac was there, sword rising and falling, the Ben-Elim collapsing back to the ground, blood staining the gravestones red.\\n\\nA hiss from above and Bleda was diving at Ellac, smashing into him and sending them both sprawling as a Ben-Elim's spear thrummed in the ground where Ellac had been standing. Bleda scrambled to his feet, pulled Ellac up and drew his bow from its leather case. Ina heartbeat he had it strung with an arrow drawn, searching fora target.\\n\\nThe Ben-Elim who had cast a spear at Ellac made that easy for Bleda. A dark-haired warrior, white wings and chainmail shirt gleaming in winter sun that shone in splintered shafts through leafless branches. He landed gently, a pulse of his great wings checking his descent. On one arm he carried along shield, and with his other hand he was drawing a sword from his hip and striding towards them.\\n\\nBleda loosed without thinking, straight at the Ben-Elim's heart, but with a shrug of the Ben-Elim's shield arm the arrow thumped into linden-wood, the Ben-Elim not breaking his stride. Bleda blinked, surprise and shock mingled, drew another arrow, loosed. Again, the Ben-Elim caught it on his shield, though the impact rocked him back a step.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A dozen paces separated them now. Bleda felt a worm of panic threading through his veins. Drew and loosed, aiming low this time, in the same heartbeat Ellac was rushing with a wordless battle-cry, sword raised. Bleda's arrow punched into the Ben-Elim's calf, dragging a grunt from the warrior and causing him to stumble, lowering his shield. Ellac swung, the Ben-Elim deflecting the blow, a clash of steel, sparks as they traded blows, then another arrow from Bleda plunged into the Ben-Elim's throat. He stumbled back, choking and spluttering, blood jetting. Ellac's sword chopped into his skull and he collapsed bonelessly.\\n\\nAn impact in Bleda's back sent him flying, crunching to the ground, his bow spinning away. He tasted leaves and dirt, rolled to lookup at a Ben-Elim standing over him, wings furled, a spear raised high, then he thrust, driving straight for Bleda's chest.\\n\\nMOVE. Fora moment he was frozen, unable to do anything except watch the bright steel of the Ben-Elim's spear speed towards his heart.\\n\\nThen in a blur of feathers and mail the Ben-Elim was gone, Bleda was lying on his back, gasping like a landed fish. Feathers drifted down around him, some gleaming white, others a soft dapple grey.\\n\\nDragging himself upright, Bleda watched Riv rolling with the Ben-Elim, an incomprehensible whirlwind of limbs and wings. They separated, the Ben-Elim stepping away, making room to swing his spear, a flash of horror and disgust as his eyes took in Riv and her wings. Riv snarled and leaped, bursting through the guard of the Ben-Elim's whirling spear, and her muscled arms grabbed at him, pulling the Ben-Elim close as she headbutted him; a breath later, her knee was crunching into his groin. The Ben-Elim sagged, dropped to his knees and Riv grabbed his head in both hands, with a savage twist snapping his neck.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fora moment Riv held the limp corpse in her grip, veins bulging in her neck, nostrils flaring, then she let it fall to the ground. A scream from the glade, another voice-Vald?-bellowing for help, and Riv was snatching up the dead Ben-Elim's spear and bursting into motion, half running, half flying as she sped back into the fight.\\n\\nBleda ran for his bow, snatched it up, saw Vald was standing over Jost, furiously trading blows with three Ben-Elim. Bleda knew he only had moments: Vald's sole weapon was his short-sword, standard issue of the White-Wings. It was deadly in a shield wall with no space to swing or manoeuvre, but the Ben-Elim bearing down on Vald were armed with spear, shield and sword, and Vald would not retreat from his fallen friend.\\n\\nIn an explosion of blood, a spear-point burst through the chest of one Ben-Elim, Riv standing behind him, lifting him from the floor and casting him away like a skewered rat. The other two halted their attack on Vald, frozen fora moment at the sight of Riv, gore splattered, wings spread. Then Fia rushed from the cabin, sprinting across the glade, White-Wing shield on one arm, another slung across her back, short-sword in her hand. She thrust a shield at Vald, shrugged the other from her back and with a crack of timber their shields locked, both of them standing over Jost.\\n\\nOne of the Ben-Elim turned on Riv, but he fell with Bleda's arrow sprouting from his neck, the other Ben-Elim beating his wings, jabbing a spear at Vald and Fia and retreating out of range.\\n\\nA quick glance showed Bleda that some of his guard still stood, though he spied at least four dead or dying on the ground. Silhouettes of Ben-Elim still choked the sky, swirling down upon them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"With me!\\\" Bleda cried, running to Riv and the others, Ellac and his surviving guards following. Jost was groaning upon the ground, a wound on his head had blood sheeting across his face. Bleda and his guards formed a half-circle about the fallen warrior, guarding the backs of Fia and Vald, their bows aiming upwards.\\n\\nCan we survive this?\\n\\nBleda saw the Ben-Elim were carrying large war-shields, making arrow-work harder still, even without the snarl of branches that helped to deflect the flight of arrows.\\n\\nThe Ben-Elim have learned from their last encounter with us Sirak. I have never seen them bearing shields before.\\n\\n\\\"Come, winged ones,\\\" Bleda hissed, \\\"and we'll make a song from your dead that will make even my mother Erdene proud.\\\" Beside him Ellac barked a laugh, the tide of battle and blood sweeping away his cold-face. The old warrior snatched up a shield from a fallen Ben-Elim and gave some cover to Bleda and the other guards, brandishing his sword at any who flew close, and Bleda and his men let loose volley after volley into the sky above them.\\n\\nA handful of Ben-Elim tumbled from the sky, splintering branches in their fall, but more continued to spiral down through the trees to join the attack.\\n\\nSpears rained down upon them, the warrior to Bleda's left was pierced through the chest, transfixed as the spear-point punched deep into the ground. Bleda loosed, his arrow deflected by a branch and skittering away. Drew and loosed again, this time a Ben-Elim crashing to the ground, an arrow piercing his eye.\\n\\nThen a noise filtered through the din of battle, through the snap and whir of arrows, through the screams and clang of iron and steel, the beating of wings.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A steady, rhythmic drumming.\\n\\nShapes formed amongst the trees before Bleda: warriors emerging, men and women, all with close-cropped hair, clad in mail and boiled leather, white wings embossed on huge rectangular shields upon their arms. They were advancing, clashing swords upon shield-rims. Bleda recognized faces amongst them.\\n\\nWhite-Wings. Aphra's hundred.\\n\\nAnd Aphra led them.\\n\\nAnother of Bleda's guards fell, a spear in the belly, blood gushing from his mouth. Bleda nocked another arrow, felt too few feathers left in his quiver, loosed at the approaching wall of White-Wings, his arrow punching into wood. Muttered a curse.\\n\\nThe White-Wings emerged into the glade, tightening their formation as the trees cleared, forming a circle around Bleda and the others, relentlessly marching closer. Bleda saw the gleam of steel, knew that when the White-Wings were close enough their short-swords would end this fight in moments.\\n\\n\\\"HOLD,\\\" a voice cried out. The White-Wings snapped to a sudden stop, shields a solid wall around Bleda and his companions, separating them from the attacking Ben-Elim.\\n\\nThe Ben-Elim ceased their attack, some spiralling in circles above, others landing on think branches, silent as predatory hawks.\\n\\nAphra stepped out of the line, eyes fixed on Riv, who was drenched in blood, hovering above Jost, Vald and Fia. She alighted before her friends, facing Aphra, and Bleda saw a host of emotions sweep across the warrior captain's face.\\n\\n\\\"Riv, stop,\\\" Aphra said. \\\"There need be no more bloodshed. Please, lay down your arms.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You brought them here, led them tome,\\\" Riv said with a snarl, gesturing up at the Ben-Elim.\\n\\n\\\"Of course I did,\\\" Aphra said. \\\"This is the Land of the Faithful. The Ben-Elim rule here, and fora thousand leagues in every direction. There's been a change of leadership, but they still rule. I want you back with me, and that means back with them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They slew Mam,\\\" Riv said, a tremor of emotion shaking her voice. \\\"Kol slew our mam.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know,\\\" Aphra said, \\\"and my heart is broken. But you still live. You and I, we are kin, we are all that each other has to hold onto in this world, and I'd not lose you, too. I've lost-\\\" she paused, clenched her jaw fora moment. \\\"We've lost too much already. I wanted to find you, bring you home. Please, Riv, come home.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Home? To the place where my mother was murdered?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She was not murdered. She fell in battle, died a brave death, as all warriors hope for.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She needs justice.\\\"\\n\\nAphra sucked in along, shuddering breath, her gaze shifting to take in Riv's wings, and she exhaled long and slow. \\\"I knew something was happening to you, to your back, but this...\\\"\\n\\nA ripple ran through Riv's wings, one dappled feather coming loose, drifting to land at Bleda's feet.\\n\\n\\\"Please, Riv, come home.\\\"\\n\\nA silence stretched, then a beating of wings from above. Bleda looked up to seethe Ben-Elim parting, a winged warrior descending from high above. Blond-haired, handsome, gleaming in a coat of mail, a ragged scar stretching from forehead to chin.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Kol.\\n\\nHe landed gently in the space between Riv and Aphra, his eyes fixed on Riv. On her wings.\\n\\n\\\"This cannot be,\\\" he said hoarsely. \\\"Dalmae, when did she-?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do not speak of my mother,\\\" Riv growled.\\n\\n\\\"Dalmae, your mother, tried to kill me,\\\" Kol snapped a sharp retort.\\n\\n\\\"Kol,\\\" Aphra interrupted, \\\"you swore tome, gave me your oath. Riv will not be harmed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Kol said, \\\"but I never knew this.\\\" He looked at Riv with disgust. \\\"Elyon's Lore...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which you have broken a thousandfold already,\\\" Aphra hissed.\\n\\n\\\"I know, but this, we have spent a hundred years ensuring this did not happen.\\\"\\n\\nBleda glanced at the cairns in the glade.\\n\\n\\\"How did this happen?\\\" Kol continued. \\\"Who did Dalmae-?\\\"\\n\\nA burst of motion and wings, and suddenly Kol was sprawled upon the ground, Riv standing over him. \\\"I said, DO NOT SPEAK OF MY MOTHER!\\\" she screamed, spittle flying, muscles twitching and spasming in her face and body.\\n\\nOh dear.\\n\\nBleda had seen that look before: Riv's face contorted, enveloped within a red rage, when she had saved him from a beating, single-handedly laying waste to half a dozen opponents. It was as if she became someone else.\\n\\n\\\"You dare,\\\" Kol hissed as his legs lashed out, kicking Riv's feet from under her, at the same time his wings beating, lifting him gracefully back to his feet.\\n\\nRiv half fell, but her wings pulsed and she regained her balance.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You're not fighting an old woman this time,\\\" Riv yelled as she hurled herself at Kol.\\n\\nThey came together with a concussive crash, muscle, bone and wings slamming into each other, the two winged warriors such a maelstrom of fury and speed that for long moments Bleda was unable to track what was happening.\\n\\nThey separated, Kol rolling on the ground, Riv rising into the air, spear raised high.\\n\\nBen-Elim moved above Bleda.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Kol snarled, palm raised to his kinsmen. Blood dripped from a cut above his eye. \\\"She's mine.\\\" Slowly he stood, gripped the hilt of the sword scabbarded at his hip, with a hiss of steel drew it, raised it high in a two-handed grip. \\\"Come, then,\\\" he called up to Riv, \\\"and have your revenge, if you can.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"NO,\\\" Aphra screamed, throwing herself at Kol. \\\"You swore Riv would not be harmed.\\\"\\n\\nAt a signal from Kol, two Ben-Elim swept forwards and grabbed Aphra, dragging her away. Aphra's cry of dismay was blotted out as with a screech of fury Riv all but fell from the air, a beat of her wings propelling her, then tucking in tight as she drove downwards, spear aimed straight at Kol's heart.\\n\\nThe Ben-Elim stood motionless as the speed of Riv's dive sent fallen leaves and forest litter swirling around him.\\n\\nHe's dead, skewered like a rat in a barrel, Bleda thought. And then, in a blur of motion, Kol was no longer there, a simple sidestep, Riv yelling, wings stretching wide to stop herself ploughing into the ground. With a beat and contraction of wings, she turned in the air, landed feet first, stumbled, spear hissing through the air, still searching for Kol's heart.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There was aloud crack as Kol's sword sliced, Riv stumbling backwards, her spear chopped in two, one half in each hand. She looked at each half of the shaft, then with an incoherent howl launched herself at Kol, arms windmilling, both shafts striking at him. The Ben-Elim retreated before her, sparks flying as he deflected the spear-point, grunting as the shaft crunched into a shoulder, leaning back as the spearhead sliced through air, grazed his lip, the speed and fury of Riv's assault almost overwhelming him. Then, somehow, Kol was in the air above Riv, slashing down. Riv gave a cry of pain as Kol landed behind her, a boot sending her sprawling face-first to the ground.\\n\\nRiv rose to her hands and knees, one hand still clutching half of the spear shaft. Bleda felt a fist clench and twist in his gut as he saw blood leaking from a gash in Riv's shoulder. Her wings beat, helping her turn, but Kol was upon her, his sword slashing, the spear shaft spinning away, a boot in Riv's face sending her crashing back to the earth. Kol stood over her, sword raised high.\\n\\n\\\"Give your mother my wishes,\\\" he said.\\n\\nBleda drew his bowstring, aimed straight at Kol's heart.\\n\\nA blow to his arm and his arrow fell to the ground, Ellac's boot stamping and snapping the shaft.\\n\\n\\\"It's a fair fight, my Prince. Kol did not allow his own to intervene. Don't dishonour her,\\\" Ellac hissed, his one hand gripping Bleda's wrist.\\n\\n\\\"To the Otherworld with honour,\\\" Bleda hissed. \\\"It's Riv.\\\" He yanked at his wrist, but as much as Bleda struggled, he could not pull free; Ellac's grip was like iron. There was a frozen, terrible moment as Kol's sword slashed down at Riv.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"NO!\\\" someone screamed: Aphra, leaping forwards and grabbing Kol's forearm, hauling him off balance. \\\"You cannot.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She's a wild animal,\\\" Kol snarled, blood dripping from his lip, one eye purpling and closing. He shoved Aphra away, a buffet of his wings sending her stumbling and falling to the ground. \\\"She must be put down like one.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, she's not,\\\" Aphra said, weeping now, holding Kol with her eyes. \\\"She's our daughter.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha paused at the treeline. The boughs were heavy and bending with snow.\\n\\nThe meadows were painted white, and beyond them rose the palisaded walls of Kergard, the most northerly town of the Desolation. Flames and black clouds of smoke belched from Kergard's heart, and on the cold wind Fritha heard screams. Figures moved on the palisade, pinpricks from this distance. One tumbled over the wall and rolled down a slope as something else leaped after it.\\n\\n\\\"My father has waited along time for this,\\\" Morn said behind Fritha.\\n\\n\\\"This is only the beginning,\\\" Fritha breathed, aflutter of excitement in her belly at the thought of her long-awaited vengeance being fulfilled, at the sounds of Gulla and his Revenants building their war-host. Though the sounds echoing from within Kergard's walls were terrible, it was not death and slaughter that was taking place.\\n\\nWell, death of a sort, but then rebirth, the people of Kergard made new. Made better.\\n\\nGunil grunted from above her, sitting upon his great bear, Claw. Both giant and bear were wounded, bandaged and in pain, but Fritha knew it would not hinder them. Behind Gunil another thirty fur-wrapped figures stood, acolytes that had followed Fritha from the south. They were hard men and women, all of them in someway scarred by the hand of the Ben-Elim, their own grudges and grievances setting them on the same path as Fritha. They had followed her into the heart of Drassil, where she had cut Asroth's frozen hand from his entombed body, and stood alongside her and fought Ben-Elim and giants. She did not doubt their courage or loyalty.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Together we are Asroth's Red Right Hand.\\n\\nHer eyes met Arn's, a dark-haired, hook-nosed man with streaks of grey in his beard. He'd been with Fritha the longest, he and Elise, his daughter who stood beside him. Almost since the beginning, close to six long years since the death of Fritha's bairn. They had found Fritha upon her knees, weeping in a pool of her own child's blood. Fritha pushed down the memories, refused to entertain them, just acknowledged the years of hardship, the myriad moments where she had stood with Arn and Elise against the Ben-Elim, fought together, protected each other's backs.\\n\\n\\\"Come,\\\" Morn said, \\\"I can hear my brother's voice in the wind, his blood calls tome. He must have his vengeance.\\\"\\n\\nFritha looked at Morn.\\n\\nShe has always been mercurial, but has her brother's death unhinged her?\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Fritha said and turned away from Kergard, walking around the bulk of Gunil and Claw and through the parting ranks of her followers. She looked west, where the forests that spilt down from the slopes of the Bonefells met the scarred plains of the Desolation. Her gaze shifted to marks in the snow at her feet and she dropped to one knee. Snow had been falling all night and most of the day, but not heavy nor deep enough to mask the tracks of a full-grown war bear of Dun Seren. Fritha dug a gloved hand into the snow, scraping the fresh layer away to reveal red stains in the ice beneath. She smiled and scooped up blood and ice.\\n\\nDrem and the others, they have fled west, sticking to the woodland to give themselves cover. Wise, when a Kadoshim half-breed will be searching for them from the skies. But it will not help them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Even if they were able to hide their tracks perfectly, Fritha knew she would find them. She rose and strode into the wooded shadows, where a score of shapes padded in the darkness, snuffling and growling. Her Ferals, the most manageable of her experiments, men, women and bairns taken from Kergard spliced together using blood magic with a wolven pack that had come south, fleeing the harsh winter of the Bonefells.\\n\\nShe crooned a command and one of the Ferals approached her with its crouched, loping gait. It was all muscle and patches of fur, yellowed teeth and claw. Fritha lifted her cupped hand with the blood from the bear to its muzzle and let it take a few deep, snorting breaths. Then it lifted it head to the wind, snuffling deeply, and howled. The other Ferals raised their heads and howled, too, a sound that echoed through the eerily muted forest, rising in volume and pitch until it enveloped Fritha's senses. It filled her with a deep, heartfelt joy.\\n\\n\\\"Ah, listen to them,\\\" Fritha said, smiling at Morn and Gunil, who did not seem to share her pleasure at the sound.\\n\\nThe howling died out and the first Feral set off at a loping run, the others close behind, quickly becoming ethereal shapes in the snowbound twilight of the forest.\\n\\n\\\"Come, Morn, you will have your revenge soon enough,\\\" Fritha said and set off after her pack, her acolytes falling into step behind her.\\n\\nMorn leaped into the air, wings powering her up into the snow-heavy sky, and Claw rumbled a growl, moving into a lumbering, limping stride.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Drem, I will find you soon, you and your new friends, and then you will regret spurning the offer I made to you.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv sat at a table in the woodsman's hut, staring at nothing as Fia stitched a deep gash in her shoulder. Fia's baby, Avi, lay in a cot close by, snoring gently, oblivious to the momentous events that had happened around him.\\n\\nWill Kol kill him, now, bury him beneath a cairn alongside his kin? My kin.\\n\\nWill he execute me? Kill my friends?\\n\\nVoices outside. Riv glowered at the door.\\n\\nThe battle was all something of a blur to her, a scarlet haze of blood and rage. That had faded now, replaced by exhaustion and shock, but she knew the red mist lurking in the dark places of her mind was still there, a hidden monster veiled in shadow. She had a vague memory of the world freezing at Aphra's announcement, Kol's sword hovering, his face twitching. She had felt her breath leave her, the adrenalin of the fight abandoning her, draining her strength and leaving her empty, drooping like a windless sail. Then hands reaching for her, lifting her, half-carrying her to the woodsman's hut. There was blood under her fingernails, on her clothes, her wings, the stench of it in her nose, the copper tang of it in her mouth. Her body ached, a score of cuts and grazes. A few deeper wounds, like the one Fia was stitching for her. She didn't care about any of it, hardly felt the pain of Fia's hooked needle weaving in and out of her flesh. All she could focus on was...\\n\\nShe is our daughter.\\n\\nNausea churned in her belly.\\n\\nOur daughter.\\n\\nRaised voices outside, angry.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Is that Vald? What are they doing to my friends? Bleda? Jost?\\n\\nThe anger stirred and she half rose from her stool, realized that her wrists were chained behind her back. She snarled, flexed her arms, knew that she could have snapped ropes, but chains...\\n\\nThey just might take me a little longer.\\n\\nFia gripped her wrist.\\n\\n\\\"Please,\\\" Fia whispered. \\\"Wait. Go out there now and you will get us all killed.\\\"\\n\\nRiv stared at her, took along, shuddering breath and sat back down, involuntary twitches passing through her wings, an expression of her mood.\\n\\nThe door opened and Aphra walked in, eyes fixed only on Riv.\\n\\nShe is our daughter...\\n\\nEverything I know is a lie. Aphra, who are you? Are you truly my mother?\\n\\nDalmae washer mother, Aphra her sister, whom she had bickered with, admired, loved, fought with, teased, and worshipped more than a little.\\n\\nNot anymore.\\n\\n\\\"I am sorry. So sorry,\\\" Aphra said, a tremor in her voice. Tentatively, she reached a hand towards Riv.\\n\\nRiv flinched away and Aphra's hand jerked back to her side.\\n\\nFia tied off her stitching, bit off the thread, dabbed in some honey and bandaged the wound.\\n\\n\\\"There is so much to say, to tell you,\\\" Aphra said.\\n\\n\\\"Aye. Of how you've lied tome, all of my life,\\\" Riv grated through locked jaws.\\n\\nA tear welled in Aphra's eye, spilt onto her cheek.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"All I've done has only ever been to keep you safe,\\\" Aphra whispered.\\n\\n\\\"Safe? That hasn't worked out too well,\\\" Riv observed. She pointedly looked at the fresh-stitched wound on her shoulder, the mass of cuts and grazes allover her body, the blood, everywhere. \\\"Mam murdered.\\\" She passed a slow ripple through her furled wings. \\\"Mean abomination, at the top of the execution list.\\\"\\n\\nThe door opened again and Kol entered. Afresh wave of hate and rage swelled in Riv's chest at the sight of him, anew tension filling the air, the presence of imminent death a palpable thing. Two Ben-Elim followed Kol and remained standing at the door as he limped towards them. Riv felt a moment of satisfaction as she saw one of his eyes was swollen closed and mottled purple with bruising, a scab forming on his lip.\\n\\nHe stood before the table, looking between them. A murmur from the baby in his cot drew Kol's eyes. Fia took a step, placed herself between Kol and the bairn. Kol stared at Fia along moment. \\\"Adonai's child?\\\" he asked.\\n\\n\\\"He is. His name is Avi,\\\" Fia said defiantly.\\n\\n\\\"He should be cold and in the ground,\\\" Kol said, a sneer curling his lip as he stared at Fia's baby. \\\"You knew the price when you joined with Adonai. I made it clear to you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You did,\\\" Fia said, \\\"and I agreed because I was a fool, infatuated with Adonai, blinded by the radiance of you Ben-Elim. I felt I was being loved by a god.\\\"\\n\\nKol smiled. \\\"In Elyon's absence, we are the closest you mortals will ever come to a god.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"His arrogance makes me want to vomit.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Or kill him, thought Riv.\\n\\n\\\"So why have you not fulfilled your part of the bargain?\\\" Kol asked, looking genuinely confused. \\\"You may love us, but consequences such as... this-\\\" Kol gestured-\\\"cannot seethe light of day. Israfil would have had our heads, and yours. He maybe dead, but there are others amongst the Ben-Elim who share his puritanical ways.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Love changed my mind,\\\" Fia said, eyes flickering to Avi and back to Kol.\\n\\nKol gave Fia a disgusted look and took a shuddering breath. His gaze shifted to Riv, to her wings. He shook his head.\\n\\nShe glared at him, tested her chains. They were infuriatingly strong.\\n\\n\\\"We have much to talk about,\\\" Kol said. \\\"Sit down, all of you,\\\" he muttered. \\\"And you, behave yourself,\\\" he said to Riv. With a grimace of pain, he sat, facing all three of them.\\n\\n\\\"So, Aphra, explain our daughter.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's plain enough,\\\" Aphra said, her eyes dipping to the floor. An indrawn breath, shoulders straightening, eyes rising to meet Kol's.\\n\\nHis mouth twisted. \\\"That cannot be, I would have known-\\\" His eyes narrowed and he snapped his fingers. \\\"When Dalmae took you on campaign to the Agullas Mountains?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye.\\\" Aphra nodded.\\n\\n\\\"Lorin?\\\" Riv said. All her life she had thought the White-Wing had been her father. She had asked Aphra to tell her tales of her da, so many times.\\n\\n\\\"Lorin was not your father,\\\" Aphra said, looking at Riv. Aphra drew in a deep breath, as she had when Riv was about to leap into the icy waters of the river Vold, north of Drassil. \\\"He was my father, but not yours. Kol is your father.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv just stared at Aphra, unable to squeeze words past the constriction in her throat.\\n\\n\\\"And Dalmae?\\\" Kol said, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. \\\"What washer part in all of this?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It was all my mother's-your grandmother,\\\" Aphra directed to Riv. \\\"It was all her idea.\\\"\\n\\nMy grandmother. Another new fact that felt startlingly, shockingly, wrong.\\n\\n\\\"We were on campaign in the Agullas Mountains,\\\" Aphra was saying, \\\"fighting an uprising of rebels who wanted the land of Tenebral reformed, wanted to split from the Ben-Elim's Land of the Faithful. My father, Lorin, was slain during an ambush. We were grieving, Mam and I, and at the same time I knew that your seed was growing in my belly, had known before we left Drassil. The grief of losing my father... I was a mess, felt at my wits\\\" end, and it just spilt out. I told Mam everything. About you, Kol, about the coterie of Ben-Elim that you had gathered to yourself, those that shared your... tastes. The secret meetings, the mock campaigns you took us on.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There are many of us,\\\" Kol said with a twitching smile, a quick glance to the two Ben-Elim standing guard at the door. \\\"And even more, now that Israfil is no longer around to take our wings or our heads.\\\" His smile withered. \\\"But how did you hide it? Even amongst Dalmae's hundred, tongues would have wagged. Your belly...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Mother handed her command down, gave it to her second, and said we were taking my father's body back to his kin in Ripa. Which we did, but then we left and lived alone in the forests around Balara for some months.\\\" She paused, looked at Riv. \\\"They were happy times. And then you were born, which was my greatest joy.\\\" Her hand reached out again, hesitant, stopping at Riv's dark look. She sucked in along breath.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Then we went back to Dalmae's hundred, where she told them she had been pregnant with Lorin's bairn. They rejoiced for her, and just like that, I had anew sister and was no longer a mother. Except inhere.\\\" She put fingertips over her heart.\\n\\n\\\"Lie upon lie upon lie,\\\" Riv growled.\\n\\n\\\"I had to,\\\" Aphra said to her desperately, \\\"it was that or see you murdered. You just heard Kol talk of the agreement between us privileged few who were invited to partake of the Ben-Elim's greatness. We could love the Ben-Elim, but if we ended up with child, then we had to eradicate that... consequence, as Kol put it. That was no choice at all for me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is not much of a sacrifice to make.\\\" Kol shrugged.\\n\\n\\\"You may have become flesh,\\\" Aphra growled, \\\"but you are not acquainted with that quality that makes us human. Love. Bonds of family and friendship.\\\"\\n\\nKol snorted. \\\"Whatever frail, pathetic emotion guided you in your deception, you did it well. I never knew or suspected a thing,\\\" he said, blowing between his teeth.\\n\\n\\\"You could not,\\\" Aphra said to him. To both of them she said, \\\"Else Riv's corpse would have been out there lying beneath a cairn alongside all of the others. I could not, would not, do that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There is still time for that,\\\" Kol said, shooting Riv a flat look.\\n\\n\\\"Like to see you try,\\\" Riv growled, rattling the chains that bound her wrists.\\n\\n\\\"You are an abomination, Elyon's Lore demands your execution,\\\" Kol snarled.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, but I am your abomination, the get of a sin that you have committed, for which the same Lore demands that you should be executed, too.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Kol and Riv glared atone another, hatred leaking in waves from both of them, their malice towards one another almost a physical thing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then he did something that took Riv by surprise. He leaned back and laughed.\\n\\n\\\"A fair point,\\\" he said. \\\"Fortunately for me,\\\" Kol continued, \\\"I am now as good as the Lord Protector of the Land of the Faithful, so I do not have to be so rigorous about maintaining a Lore that would see my head on a spike. You, however, area problem. Lore or no Lore, there is no hiding your wings.\\\" He took a moment to consider them. \\\"You could never pass fora Ben-Elim, they are dapple grey, not white, and of course,\\\" he added, \\\"you're a woman.\\\"\\n\\nRiv blinked at that; all of the Ben-Elim were male. She felt abruptly so alone, a half-breed, but also the only woman to have wings.\\n\\nThe joy of flight is a blessing, but in all other ways I am cursed.\\n\\nKol shook his head. \\\"Even forgetting your wings, your gender and your... heritage, you have slain Ben-Elim, taken the lives of the Faithful-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As have you,\\\" Riv interrupted.\\n\\n\\\"Ah, all this one does is keep pointing out my shortcomings. I am not perfect, true,\\\" Kol said, shaking his head and spreading his arms wide.\\n\\nIs he enjoying this?\\n\\n\\\"But you have slain my followers, out therein the glade,\\\" Kol continued. \\\"There must be a price for that. And you area problem that I can only see is best solved by taking your head and burying you in a ditch.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There are other options,\\\" Aphra said.\\n\\n\\\"Yes. I could bury you in a ditch,\\\" Riv said bitterly to Kol.\\n\\nAphra slammed a fist on the table. \\\"Shut up, Riv,\\\" she said. \\\"You're not helping.\\\" She took a deep, shuddering breath. \\\"I am trying to save you.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Don't bother, liar,\\\" Riv retorted.\\n\\n\\\"Life is not as clear as you see it,\\\" Aphra said. \\\"You would be hard-pressed to find someone who has not lied, at some point in their life. All lie, it is the why that is important.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Israfil never lied,\\\" Riv said.\\n\\n\\\"And look where that got him,\\\" Kol said.\\n\\nRiv turned her glower upon him.\\n\\n\\\"It has been a dark, confusing time. Sometimes there is no easy or obvious path.\\\" Aphra sighed, rubbing a hand across her forehead, squeezing her temples.\\n\\n\\\"Seems simple enough tome,\\\" Riv said. \\\"Israfil was the Lord Protector, Kol schemed and murdered him. And my mother.\\\" Her lips twisted. \\\"Grandmother.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The impetuosity of youth,\\\" Kol observed, \\\"when all is so clear, so easy to judge.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Riv, please see, please think. I have lived sixteen years with you, a path of joy as I have watched you grow, and sadness that I could not hold you, as I yearned to, always stepping aside, to be the sister, not the mother. But that was better than not having you at all, always so much better.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But you've lied tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, I have,\\\" Aphra said, \\\"to keep you alive. You would do the same, too, for someone you loved.\\\"\\n\\nRiv felt something shift in her then, the words crashing into her like a battering ram at the doors of her heart. A swell of emotion that fora change was not rage. The doors held fast, but something in them had cracked, a hairline fracture through her rage and resolve. She ground her teeth, angry with herself for feeling even a moment of weakness in her hatred, for the lies Aphra had told, the terrible damage she had wrought. Yet part of her understood, knew that there was a logic to Aphra's actions.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But it has all led to Mother's, to Dalmae's death. To Israfil's death. To changing everything.\\n\\n\\\"I hate you,\\\" Riv said to Aphra. Then looked slow and cold at Kol. \\\"And I want to kill you.\\\"\\n\\nKol threw his head back and belly-laughed.\\n\\n\\\"Tell me something I don't already know,\\\" he said when his laughter eased enough that he could speak.\\n\\n\\\"The way forward,\\\" Aphra said doggedly.\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Kol nodded. \\\"As much as this is all very entertaining, I have a realm to rule, and it is not simple, believe me. You think this is complicated? You should try ruling the Banished Lands fora day.\\\" He pinched the top of his nose between finger and thumb. \\\"Technically, I am not even ruler yet. I have not been officially named Lord Protector.\\\" He smiled at them. \\\"But I will be. So, Aphra. You said that I have options. The obvious one is to kill Riv, Fia and... this.\\\" Kol gestured with a hand at Avi in his cot.\\n\\n\\\"Do that and you will have to kill me, also,\\\" Aphra said, and for the first time there was no diplomacy in her voice. Just a fact.\\n\\nKol stared at her, his face shifting to something cold and aloof. Calculating.\\n\\n\\\"I could do that,\\\" Kol said.\\n\\n\\\"Aye. But you would have to kill my hundred, as well.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. A difficult task, and one where I would take losses. But, again, I could do that.\\\"\\n\\nAphra nodded. \\\"In doing so you would be killing anally and losing a hundred swords that would stand beside you in the difficult days ahead.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Kol dipped his head, an acknowledgement.\\n\\n\\\"And then there would be the matter of the parchments I have written,\\\" Aphra continued, \\\"that will be sent far and wide, telling of what you have done, including fathering half-breeds.\\\"\\n\\nKol's lips twisted, shifting to fury.\\n\\n\\\"You would threaten me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you did me, to join you against Israfil, told me it was in my interest to support you, that I would die if I did not. This is no different.\\\" Aphra's hands didn't move, but Riv could seethe threat of violence rolling from Aphra in waves.\\n\\n\\\"I did not threaten you. I told you Israfil would execute you if he found out our secret.\\\"\\n\\nAphra snorted. \\\"It was a threat.\\\"\\n\\nKol shrugged, dismissing the point. \\\"Where are these parchments?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Safe,\\\" Aphra said, \\\"with people I trust. The first place they will reach is Dun Seren. The Order of the Bright Star would find it all most interesting.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You would jeopardize the war against the Kadoshim?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I would not care. I would be dead, and all that I love would be dead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Humans.\\\" Kol sighed. \\\"Always ruled by your emotions.\\\" He drummed fingers on the table. \\\"And the alternative?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Change things.\\\" Aphra shrugged. \\\"Anew order, where the boundaries between Ben-Elim and humankind are not so... fixed. That is what you are doing now, anyway. This would just be more obvious.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, you have that right,\\\" Kol said, looking at Riv's wings.\\n\\n\\\"You have carried out a coup, killed Israfil, taken the lordship of the Ben-Elim for yourself. You are in charge, now.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes, but it doesn't mean I can do this. Not all of the Ben-Elim are behind me; my power is not consolidated yet.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It will be. You have a thousand Ben-Elim declaring their support for you already. The rest will follow. You said yourself, now that Israfil is dead, more will be happy for your new way to begin. You and your kind will be enjoying the pleasures this world of flesh gives, having relations with humankind, as you have already been doing fora hundred years, but more openly. But there will still be consequences, there will be more bairns born, more than ever before. You cannot keep it all a secret any longer, or do you plan to kill them all?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Kol said, \\\"but I was planning on taking the stepson this path slowly, a gentle slope into change, not a cliff-leap to jagged rocks and possible execution.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Better to just do it, get it over with and enjoy the fruits of your victory.\\\"\\n\\nHe rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully. \\\"And there is Elyon's Lore,\\\" he added.\\n\\n\\\"Is it really Elyon's Lore? Or is it the Ben-Elim's lore, fashioned to create a world that suited the Ben-Elim? To establish the boundaries that you wanted, the obedience you needed to fight the Kadoshim?\\\"\\n\\nKol raised an eyebrow. \\\"Good point.\\\" He smiled. \\\"Clever as well as beautiful.\\\"\\n\\nI cannot believe what I am hearing.\\n\\nAphra is proposing Kol change the doctrines that have ruled our lives fora hundred years.\\n\\nBut if they area lie, made up to keep control, then why not change them? Why follow them at all.\\n\\n\\\"You change Elyon's Lore as you are changing everything else,\\\" Aphra said. \\\"You would not need to declare it to the world, just quietly remove those parts from the texts. What is it you have often said tome? People are sheep. So, you lead, and everyone else will follow.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Kol inhaled, long and slow, then turned his eyes onto Riv.\\n\\n\\\"And what do you say to all of this, daughter?\\\" he asked her.\\n\\nRiv wanted to punch him in the face for that, though at the same time she felt some strange reluctance seep through her limbs.\\n\\nDaughter.\\n\\nHe's my father.\\n\\nAnd I hate him.\\n\\n\\\"What do you want of me?\\\" Riv said, her gaze flitting from Kol to Aphra.\\n\\n\\\"That you refrain from trying to kill me, if I take those chains off,\\\" Kol said.\\n\\nThat will be hard.\\n\\n\\\"To understand,\\\" Aphra said.\\n\\n\\\"He killed Dalmae,\\\" Riv whispered, sparks of hatred fizzing out of the fiery rage within her.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, he did. It was a battle, she died. My heart is broken for her loss, a thousand times over. But I would not lose you, too.\\\" Aphra's hand reached out, touched Riv's leg, and this time Riv did not pull away.\\n\\nPart of her understood Aphra's logic, knew that there was sense and truth in it, and now there was apart of her that wanted to hold Aphra, to hug her and squeeze her and never let her go.\\n\\nBut the other part of her wanted to punch, smash and stab something.\\n\\nNo, not something. Kol.\\n\\nI just feel so angry, more than I've ever felt before. Kol was a hero tome, someone I admired, no, revered, respected as a warrior, a leader. Kol is nothing like the man I thought him to be. He is a liar and a murderer.\\n\\nI can understand what Aphra is saying, how she has been caught in a place with noway out, has made choices for those she loves. For me.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And she's right, I would do much for those whom I love. But would I do anything, as Aphra has for me?\\n\\n\\\"What of Bleda?\\\" Riv said slowly. \\\"Of my friends, Vald and Jost?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What of them?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They are only here because they have chosen to help me. They should not be harmed for that,\\\" Riv said, trying to hold back the rage that she felt at Kol's indifferent response.\\n\\n\\\"They have made poor choices.\\\" He scowled. \\\"Slain my Ben-Elim; that cannot go unpunished.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bleda's oathsworn lie dead out there, too,\\\" Riv growled.\\n\\nHurt Bleda and I shall break these chains and wrap them around your throat, make your eyes pop from your skull.\\n\\n\\\"Punish Bleda and you risk war with Erdene and the Sirak,\\\" Aphra added. \\\"You would win, but how easily? And do you need a war right now, with the Kadoshim stirring, and your position needing consolidating?\\\"\\n\\nA silence.\\n\\n\\\"No, I do not need a war,\\\" Kol conceded.\\n\\n\\\"People die in battle,\\\" Aphra said. \\\"Afterwards there is reconciliation. Pardon them all, for the sake of peace, grant an absolution to all who have fought in these troubles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Peace, absolution,\\\" Kol echoed. \\\"My instinct is to exterminate all who have caused me grief, but there is much wisdom in what you've said. Aphra, fora pretty human, there is some wisdom in that skull of yours.\\\"\\n\\nAphra said nothing, just looked at Kol.\\n\\n\\\"And you,\\\" Kol said, turning to Riv. \\\"Would you cooperate? Not attempt to kill me? Swear your oath tome?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Another silence.\\n\\nAll I have thought about is killing you. But I do not have to do it straightaway.\\n\\n\\\"I will not try to kill you,\\\" Riv said sullenly.\\n\\nNot yet, she promised herself.\\n\\n\\\"If Bleda and the others are not harmed,\\\" she added.\\n\\n\\\"Your oath,\\\" Kol said, more firmly. \\\"I must have your oath, swearing fealty tome. Loyalty and obedience.\\\"\\n\\nHow can I swear an oath to him? Bind myself to him? I would truly be giving up my vengeance. Turning my back on Dalmae.\\n\\nBut she is dead, gone, as Aphra said. And Bleda is alive, Jost and Vald are alive. But for how long?\\n\\n\\\"Your friends will thank you,\\\" Kol said.\\n\\nRiv drew in a deep breath, felt she was about to leap into a pit of adders.\\n\\n\\\"And my oath.\\\"\\n\\nKol held her eyes a moment longer, then nodded to himself. \\\"Good,\\\" he said. \\\"Then swear your oath, and seal it in blood.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Pine trees thinned, a glare of sky and swirl of snow making Drem blink as they rode out of the twilight cover of the forest into a small clearing. Reining in his horse and twisting in his saddle, he looked back. Cullen dismounted and led his horse to a stream that frothed and foamed its icy way down from the Bonefells that reared above them, brooding guardians of the north. Keld was ahead, but he paused, too, with a click of his tongue guided his horseback to Drem. Fen loped after him. Hammer was somewhere off in the trees.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Keld asked.\\n\\nDrem squinted and stared into the distance. For sometime, they had been climbing steadily into the foothills that preceded the Bonefells, trees turning from oak to pine as they gained altitude. The cold, ice-laced air felt thinner, Drem's chest burning when he drew in a full breath.\\n\\n\\\"Not sure,\\\" Drem muttered. Something had made him pause and look back. \\\"There,\\\" he said, pointing.\\n\\nA day and a half had passed since they'd said farewell to the white crow, Rab, and now they were high above the plain that Kergard sat upon. With a jolt, Drem realized that they were not far from the place where he and his father had once been attacked by a great white bear. He worked it out: only five moons had passed since that fateful day when they'd found a lump of starstone rock beneath the elk pit Drem had been digging. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and a different world. Certainly he felt like a different person. Drem's hand drifted up to the bear claw hanging around his neck. He'd chopped it from the white bear as it rampaged past him. Then his da had hauled him onto his shoulder and carried Drem to safety.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It feels as if Da's whole life was spent saving me or protecting me. He rested a hand upon the bone hilt of his seax, something about it comforting after what he'd recently learned. In someways he still is.\\n\\n\\\"I see it,\\\" Keld said.\\n\\nA flare of red firelight, bright in the all-white, just a flicker far in the distance, then it was gone, cutoff by a curtain of swirling snow.\\n\\n\\\"I think that's where Kergard should be,\\\" Drem said, though it was hard to tell.\\n\\nCullen joined them, drinking from afresh-filled water skin. He pushed the hood of his fur-lined cloak back, and looked up at the sky, snow dappling his cheeks. He stuck out his tongue, snowflakes landing and melting upon it.\\n\\n\\\"Ah, but I love the snow,\\\" Cullen said. His red hair was starting to grow back in tufts and clumps on his head.\\n\\nKeld just shook his head.\\n\\nAs Drem stared into the distance, more flickers of firelight appeared, scattered across the plain south of Kergard.\\n\\nKeld was staring, too.\\n\\n\\\"What is that?\\\" Cullen asked, seeing the flare and flicker of light on the plain.\\n\\n\\\"Kergard burns,\\\" Drem said.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, and a dozen holds south of Kergard,\\\" Keld added. \\\"Gulla is hiding no longer.\\\"\\n\\nDrem felt a frustrated anger radiating through him. There were people down there that he knew, had traded with, had lived alongside, and Gulla and his horde were murdering them.\\n\\nOr worse. He shivered as he remembered Gulla and his Revenants.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We could help them,\\\" Cullen said.\\n\\n\\\"Too many of them, even for you,\\\" Keld said, glancing at Cullen. \\\"But we can help those further south, by getting to Dun Seren and telling Byrne what is happening.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Let's be on with it, then,\\\" Drem said, a sense of futility and frustration burning in his belly.\\n\\nHammer emerged from the trees, bending and snapping branches. She scratched a paw on the ground.\\n\\nFen growled, head cocked to one side, ears twitching.\\n\\n\\\"What is it, lad?\\\" Keld asked, one hand resting on an axe-head at his belt.\\n\\nOut of the snow and wind a sound reached them, an ululating howl, rising and falling on the wind.\\n\\n\\\"Wolven?\\\" Drem breathed, knowing instantly that he was wrong. The sound was similar, but twisted somehow. Deeper, more frantic.\\n\\nMore howls, in the distance, yet not faraway enough for Drem's liking. Shapes moving amidst the trees much further down the slope. The shadowed bulk of something bigger behind them.\\n\\n\\\"Ferals,\\\" Keld said.\\n\\nA hiss as Cullen drew his sword.\\n\\n\\\"What do we do?\\\" Drem asked, wings of fear fluttering in his belly.\\n\\nKeld stared into the trees. Drem, following his gaze, saw more shapes solidifying than he was happy about. A dozen, more.\\n\\n\\\"I think we can take them,\\\" Cullen said, afire in his eyes as he bounced on the balls of his feet and gave his sword a lazy turn with his wrist.\\n\\nWe are clearly outnumbered and cannot win.\\n\\n\\\"We run,\\\" Keld said. \\\"Quick, help me with Hammer's harness and saddle.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha's breath was loud in her ears, her heart a drum in her chest. She was surrounded by snow and ice, but her leathers and furs were warm, her bearskin cloak a weight upon her shoulders, and she felt exhilarated by the thrill of the chase. She was close to catching Drem and his companions, she knew, the behaviour of her Ferals spurring heron. They were as excited by the hunt as she was, snapping and growling, some bounding on ahead up the steep incline, only returning reluctantly at her stern summons.\\n\\nThey're excited, like hounds scenting their prey, close to the kill.\\n\\n\\\"We are close,\\\" Gunil said. He was striding beside her, Claw lumbering behind.\\n\\nAn ear-splitting roar echoed through the forest, sending crows flapping and squawking from branches, making Fritha and her crew pause in their tracks.\\n\\nThat was a bear.\\n\\n\\\"Best mount up,\\\" Fritha said to Gunil, then without checking to see if he obeyed or not, she broke into a loping stride, her acolytes increasing their speed with her, the remaining Ferals bursting with the urge to run and kill, looking from her to the sounds filtering down to them, like hounds pulling on a leash.\\n\\nA bright light was glaring through the treeline. She drew a short-sword at her hip, felt more comfortable with it than the Starstone Sword, which she left in its scabbard, and barked a command. Her Ferals leaped into a sprint while she and her acolytes spread into a wider line after them, Arn and Elise either side of her. She heard the crash of Gunil and Claw somewhere behind.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2294,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 12"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha's breath was loud in her ears, her heart a drum in her chest. She was surrounded by snow and ice, but her leathers and furs were warm, her bearskin cloak a weight upon her shoulders, and she felt exhilarated by the thrill of the chase. She was close to catching Drem and his companions, she knew, the behaviour of her Ferals spurring heron. They were as excited by the hunt as she was, snapping and growling, some bounding on ahead up the steep incline, only returning reluctantly at her stern summons.\n\nThey're excited, like hounds scenting their prey, close to the kill.\n\n\"We are close,\" Gunil said. He was striding beside her, Claw lumbering behind.\n\nAn ear-splitting roar echoed through the forest, sending crows flapping and squawking from branches, making Fritha and her crew pause in their tracks.\n\nThat was a bear.\n\n\"Best mount up,\" Fritha said to Gunil, then without checking to see if he obeyed or not, she broke into a loping stride, her acolytes increasing their speed with her, the remaining Ferals bursting with the urge to run and kill, looking from her to the sounds filtering down to them, like hounds pulling on a leash.\n\nA bright light was glaring through the treeline. She drew a short-sword at her hip, felt more comfortable with it than the Starstone Sword, which she left in its scabbard, and barked a command. Her Ferals leaped into a sprint while she and her acolytes spread into a wider line after them, Arn and Elise either side of her. She heard the crash of Gunil and Claw somewhere behind."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then she was bursting from the treeline into a small clearing, snow swirling, obscuring her vision.\n\nThe snow was churned, a mess of hoof-and paw-prints, boots here and there.\n\nThey stopped here, to rest, water their mounts?\n\nFritha turned a circle, saw flickering pinpoints of firelight far below.\n\nGulla's work.\n\nGunil and his bear lumbered into the clearing, the giant holding his war-hammer across his lap.\n\n\"They're gone,\" he said.\n\nHe has a talent for stating the obvious.\n\nFritha gestured, and Arn and Elise spread wider, searching for tracks. Elise raised a hand. \"There.\" She pointed. She was fair-haired, like Fritha, and of a similar age, twenty-five summers. Arn said they looked like sisters, which may have been why they had become so close, so quickly. That and the grief they shared. Elise was small-framed, fragile-looking to someone who did not know her, but Fritha knew better, knew the strength in her sinewed frame, but more than that, her strength of mind, more determined than a huntsman's hound.\n\nSeeing your mother hung from a tree will focus the mind, or break it, Fritha thought.\n\nElise was pointing to bear-and hoof-prints that led into a stream, then continued on the far side back into the cover of trees, though the woodland grew thinner here.\n\nThere's still not much chance of tracking them from the skies in this snowstorm.\n\n\"With me,\" Fritha called, her Red Right Hand gathering around her. \"Gunil, Morn,\" she shouted. Thumping steps, a draught of wind, and Gunil and Morn joined her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The chase is on,\" Fritha said. \"They are running now, no thought for stealth. We are the wolven, they the elk, we shall run them to bay.\" She paused, looked again at the tracks of the bear. \"They're fleeing up, into the Bonefells, maybe hoping to lose us in the snarl of the wild. They are wrong.\" She gave a cold smile.\n\n\"Anseo,\" Fritha called, and the Ferals stopped in their sniffing and snuffling around the glade and loped over to her. One of them whined.\n\n\"Ah, my children,\" Fritha said, stroking one's gore-crusted jaw. \"You'll feast soon, on bear and horse and man-flesh. Now, though, we hunt.\"\n\nThe Feral threw its head back and howled, the others joining in. Then they were crashing across the stream, bounding after the tracks. Fritha lifted a hand and her acolytes followed.\n\n\"Gunil, Morn, wait,\" she said. \"Gunil, can you kill their bear? It bested you at the mine.\"\n\n\"Sig is dead.\" Gunil shrugged. \"We will kill it.\"\n\n\"You are both injured.\"\n\n\"We will kill it,\" he assured her.\n\n\"Good. Morn, stay close.\"\n\n\"I'll fly as I please, you wingless worm,\" Morn snarled.\n\n\"You'll fly close, or Gulla will hear of your recklessness and disobedience,\" Fritha said.\n\nMorn's face twisted, a curt nod. Her knees bent, and she launched into the air, though Fritha saw she stayed circling overhead."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Good.\n\n\"Now, let's finish this.\"\n\nFritha wiped sweat from her eyes and raised a fist, drawing to a halt, sucked in deep breaths and uncorked a water skin. Half a day they had been chasing Drem and his companions, ever up into the Bonefells, the tree-clad hillslopes shifting into narrow gullies, granite cliffs and shingle ridges. Her chest was heaving, legs burning with the exertion. She was no soft weakling-a lifetime of training on the weapons-field had honed her body to flint, and what had happened afterwards had honed her spirit to that same knife-edge hardness, but life with the Kadoshim was not one of outright military campaigns, and so her body was feeling the pace.\n\nNot everyday I try to outrun a Dun Seren war bear.\n\nBut they were gaining; drops of blood fresher, Fritha guessed from wounds sustained during the battle at the mine.\n\nThe ground was changing, rockier, less sure underfoot, so the fact that Drem and the other two were mounted was giving their quarry less of an advantage. The rocky terrain was also making it harder to track them, though.\n\nShe put two fingers to her lips and whistled, summoning her Ferals back to her. They seemed as fresh as when the day had begun.\n\nThe snow was lessening, glimpses of broken cloud and sky were appearing; the sun was sinking towards the horizon. Two paths stood before Fritha. A narrow ravine leading up into the mountains and a wider path that sloped downwards.\n\nMorn alighted upon a boulder.\n\n\"Report,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"They are in the ravine,\" Morn said. \"It runs for several leagues.\" Fritha had sent her ahead to scout the way, a test of Morn's new-found obedience."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And this path?\" Fritha asked, pointing at the one that sloped downhill. \"Can you reach the ravine's exit by following it?\"\n\n\"It drops back into woodland, but yes, you can reach the ravine's exit that way.\"\n\nGood. A flush of excitement.\n\n\"Take ten of my Ferals.\" Fritha called out names, summoning her most obedient children, the ones she knew would follow her orders, even when she was out of sight. \"You will have to move fast. Lead them to the ravine's exit, hold our prey there. We shall be close behind.\"\n\nFritha drew her short-sword, signalling for her followers to fan out behind her as she set off into the narrow ravine. Soon the Ferals with her began to behave oddly. They'd grown excited, started snapping and slavering, but now they were hanging back, following rather than leading.\n\nDrem, where are you?\n\nGranite cliffs reared to either side of her, the ravine narrowed so that only three or four men could walk abreast.\n\nIt's a good spot to make a stand, especially if you've a giant bear to fill the hole. They should be here, fighting, making use of this bottleneck. Of course, they are not to know that Morn and my Ferals will be creeping up and stabbing them in the back.\n\nBut there was no sign of them. There was little snow here, the arch of rocks keeping the ground clear, and no soil or foliage to search for evidence of their passing. Then she saw movement ahead, figures shifting around a boulder. Something about them looked wrong.\n\nFritha swore under her breath.\n\nThey are my Ferals."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They were gathered around a shape, the distinct sound of flesh tearing echoing up the ravine to Fritha.\n\nThe outline of Morn appeared atop the boulder. In her grip she held the bridle of a horse.\n\nFritha ran forwards, trying to control the anger she felt that Morn and her Ferals had slain Drem and the others. She wanted him as a slave, or at least the pleasure of seeing him die. As she drew closer she saw her Ferals were gathered around two dead horses, their muzzles and claws red as they feasted.\n\nSomething's wrong. There's no bear, or people.\n\n\"Where are they?\" Fritha called up to Morn.\n\n\"I was about to ask you the same question,\" the half-breed called down to her.\n\n\"They are not here,\" Gunil pointed out.\n\nFritha cast him a dark look.\n\n\"Stake the horse,\" she ordered Morn. \"It will feed my Ferals later, but now we must continue our hunt.\"\n\n\"Anseo,\" she called, and the Ferals looked up from their feasting, muzzle-red. Some of them loped over to her, others went back to their meal.\n\n\"Laithreach,\" Fritha growled, and the others pulled themselves from the horses' carcasses, reluctantly joining Fritha.\n\nThey retraced their steps, Fritha's Ferals given the lead. Soon they came to a spot where the ravine wall was overgrown with scrub and brush, the dark gleam of granite behind. The Ferals started snapping and whining, one scrabbling into the brush. Arn and Elise stepped forwards; Elise used her spear to dig and pull at the undergrowth. It came away, revealing a boulder, barring the path into anew gully."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The huntsmen of Dun Seren,\" Arn said to her, \"always with a trick or two when you think they're finished.\"\n\n\"It won't save them,\" Fritha said. \"Their horses are gone, all of them are mounted upon the bear. How long can it carry them, wounded as it is?\"\n\nArn grunted his agreement.\n\n\"Morn,\" Fritha called, and the half-breed took to the air, winging over the boulder. Ina few heartbeats she was back.\n\n\"They went this way,\" Morn confirmed. \"Moved the boulder to block our path.\"\n\n\"Gunil,\" Fritha snapped.\n\nThe giant dismounted from Claw, gave a command as he put his shoulder to the boulder. His bear moved up alongside him, pushing into the boulder, dipping its neck and putting its weight against the rock.\n\nGiant and bear pushed together.\n\nNothing happened.\n\nVeins bulged in Gunil's neck, afresh bloom of blood appearing in the bandage about his shoulder. The bear shook, straining, its back legs scrabbling for purchase in loose stone.\n\nWith a grinding creak the boulder shifted, moved minutely.\n\nFritha ran to the rock, put her back against it, her acolytes following, Morn, too.\n\nThe boulder rolled free, up a gentle incline, then down a short slope, crushing shrubs and trees.\n\nAnew path opened before Fritha, this one leading down, twisting out of view in less than a hundred paces.\n\n\"On,\" she said, breaking into a run.\n\nA sound ahead, Fritha straining to hear over the pounding of blood in her head and the drum of feet around her. The new passage had bent and turned a downward path, opening up as they made their way into a valley between the mountains of the Bonefells. Somewhere ahead Fritha could hear the rush of water, which made other sounds difficult to distinguish, but there was something."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A shadow flitted across the ground: Morn, flying low.\n\n\"They are ahead, so close,\" the half-breed called down to her, turning a half-loop in the air, \"a quarter-league, no more.\"\n\nFritha picked up her pace.\n\nThe ground levelled, widening. Pine trees appeared, heavy with snow that gleamed bright in the low, sinking sun.\n\nNot much left of daylight. Must catch them now, I'll not stumble upon them in the dark and lose the advantage.\n\nAnother burst of speed, Ferals about her growling and snarling. Some were hanging back, unease appearing to pass amongst them. Fritha grunted a breathless encouragement to them.\n\nSoon, my children.\n\nBehind her she heard Claw rumble a growling protest, heard the rhythm of his stride falter, Gunil commanding the bear on.\n\nFatigue is affecting all of us.\n\nThe sound of a river grew closer, and then she saw them. A great bear, powering beneath high-boughed trees. It was limping, still moving at a staggering pace, but not the smooth rolling gait of a healthy beast. Figures were sitting upon it, one looked back, pale-faced and dark-haired, and saw her.\n\nDrem, it is so good to see you again. Perhaps I shall turn you into one of my Ferals, or let Gulla make a Revenant of you. If I can stop Morn from ripping your head from your shoulders, that is.\n\nShe grinned, her triumph so close she could almost taste it.\n\nThen she frowned and spat.\n\nWhat is that smell?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I can see them,\" Drem cried to Keld and Cullen, both men sitting in front of him upon the saddle on Hammer's back.\n\n\"Come on, Hammer,\" Drem breathed. But the bear was flagging beneath them, her strength fading. And there was something else, a hesitancy in her gait; she was casting her head about, taking in deep, snorting breaths.\n\nDrem looked around, saw only open-spread trees, the ground dense with a litter-bed of pine needles. They were deep into the Bonefells, now, but a region that Drem had never trapped in; Olin had always taken him north in the trapping season between spring and winter.\n\nAfoul smell hit the back of Drem's throat.\n\nHammer skidded to a halt, rearing and lowing. Keld, Cullen and Drem were thrown from the saddle. The soft spring of the needle litter that coated the frozen ground broke Drem's fall.\n\nHe climbed to his feet.\n\n\"What in the name of the Otherworld is that stench?\" Cullen spat.\n\nDrem looked about. Dimly through the trees behind them he saw the speeding approach of their pursuers, Ferals and men, behind them the silhouetted bulk of a giant bear.\n\nWe need to move.\n\nBut Hammer was standing, blowing great gouts of steaming breath. Another wave of the smell crawled into Drem's mouth, acrid and foul. They were in a wide clearing, dotted with a few thin-trunked trees, most of the snowstorm held at bay by the lattice of pine branches above them. The occasional snowflake drifted down. All around them were mounds. They were tall, not quite the height of a man, wide at the base and tapered. Some were gleaming with ice, frozen solid, but a few on the outskirts of the mounds were steaming. Drem walked close to one, saw something protruding from it, angular and sharp-edged. He looked closer, something shifting in his gut as he realized what it was."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A bone. A big one, that looks as if it belonged to an elk. This is the dunghill of a predator.\n\nCullen came and stood beside him, wrinkling his nose and prodding at the mound.\n\nI wouldn't do that, Drem thought.\n\nCullen's finger cracked the ice and a smell fouler than anything Drem had ever experienced, far worse than rotting meat or any tanner's chemical vat, escaped the mound and assaulted their senses, snaking into his mouth and nose like grasping fingers.\n\n\"Dear Elyon, no,\" Keld whispered. \"We have to get out of here.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Draigs.\"\n\nDraigs!\n\nDrem had heard of the great beasts, and every trapper had spoken or dreamed of catching and skinning one, but they were a thing of legend, a mythical beast that only the hardiest of heroes could slay, like Maquin Oathkeeper, hailed as the greatest warrior that fought in the War of Wrath. Drem had never thought there was much truth in the tales, and certainly the last draigs he'd heard of had been hunted and slain a hundred years ago. Serpents on legs, some called them, most vicious and deadly of the Banished Lands predators, and that was quite a crown to hold.\n\n\"Come on,\" Keld said, dragging at Cullen's arm.\n\nA shadow flitted across them. Drem, looking up, saw a blur swooping above them, leathery wings spread wide.\n\n\"There's no time,\" Drem cried, pointing at the half-breed, then gazing back into the trees.\n\nFerals were surging towards them, a dozen at least, only a few hundred paces away, and behind them were Kadoshim acolytes, shaven-haired and grim-eyed."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Keld shared a look with Drem and Cullen, gave a short nod.\n\n\"This is it, then. Let's see how many of these bastards we can take across the bridge of swords with us,\" he growled. \"With me.\" He ran to Hammer's side, unstrapping along linen bag, pulling a bow of ash from it, reaching inside a pocket fora bowstring. In heartbeats the bow was strung. With a hiss, Cullen's sword was in his fist and he was taking around shield from where it was hung upon Hammer's harness, the white, four-pointed star, sigil of the Order of the Bright Star, painted upon it. He slung it across his back, pulled the leather buckles tight, offered another shield to Drem.\n\n\"I've never used a shield,\" Drem said.\n\n\"I'll teach you when we get back to Dun Seren.\"\n\nWe both know that's not going to happen. Drem resisted the urge to say it out loud, knew that it would not be the most encouraging thing right now. Instead he put a hand to his neck, finding the reassuring beat of his pulse.\n\nKeld had laid out a handful of arrows on the ground before him. He crouched down, drew a knife across the palm of his hand and clenched a fist, blood welling between his fingers.\n\n\"Cnámha an domhain, tabhair dom do neart,\" he intoned, letting his blood drip upon the arrowheads.\n\nThe steel seemed to shimmer and ripple, and then Keld was standing, one of the arrows nocked. He drew and loosed, almost straight up. There was a shriek as the half-breed swerved, the arrow grazing her wing. She twisted in the air and rose, disappearing into the treetop canopy."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Keld didn't wait, had nocked and loosed at the pack of Ferals swarming towards them, only a hundred paces away now. His arrow pierced one's belly, punching out through the creature's back and hurtling on, slamming into another Feral's shoulder, hurling it against a tree, where the arrow sunk deep, almost up to its fletching, pinning the Feral.\n\nThat's impossible, Drem thought.\n\nThe first Feral, with a hole in its belly, stood and stared, then slumped to its knees.\n\nHammer growled beside them, huge claws raking the ground.\n\n\"Hold, lass,\" Cullen whispered to her.\n\nFifty paces away.\n\nDrem drew his seax and a hand-axe, thought about using his father's sword, but his seax felt comfortable in his hand, and the memory of his father's runes carved upon it helped to steady his beating heart.\n\nI would have liked to learn to use Da's sword. Maybe I will.\n\nIf I livelong enough.\n\nKeld drew and loosed, an arrow slamming into a Feral's shoulder and on out of its back, sending the creature crashing to the ground. It regained its feet and ran at them. Drem saw the one with an arrow-hole in its belly was back on its feet, staggering towards them.\n\nNot a comforting sight. They are hard to kill.\n\nTwenty paces.\n\nAnother arrow, this one finding the throat of an acolyte. He fell backwards in a spray of blood.\n\nKeld dropped the bow and drew his sword and axe, rolled his shoulders.\n\nCullen laughed.\n\n\"Stay close tome, lad,\" Cullen said to Drem as he set his feet."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I wish he'd stop calling me lad.\n\n\"Truth and Courage,\" Keld and Cullen bellowed, Hammer roaring, and the two warriors ran at the onrushing enemy. Drem stood a moment, hesitating, fear squirming in his belly. Drem was no coward but he knew this was likely to be the time and place of his death.\n\nI don't want to die.\n\nThen he saw Fritha, deep amidst her acolytes, and behind her the looming shape of a bear, a giant upon its back.\n\nMy father's murderers. Sig's killers.\n\nFear shifted to anger.\n\nBellowing a wordless cry, he ran after his comrades.\n\nKeld and Cullen crashed into the Ferals, a sword-swing from Cullen sending ahead twirling through the air, blood jetting from the severed stump. Keld was slicing and stabbing, ducking and spinning, constant motion, and then Drem was amidst it all. A Feral came at him, all red jaws and yellow fangs, and without thinking he knocked raking claws away with his axe and stabbed his seax into the man-beast's mouth, the point bursting out through the back of its neck, severing its spine. Blood erupted as Drem ripped his blade free, the Feral collapsing, twitching.\n\nA blow to his side, sending him reeling, a moment to register it was an acolyte that had fallen into him, a woman with hair shaved to her scalp, a deep wound in her thigh, from Keld or Cullen, he did not know. Drem hesitated, weapons raised, and she stabbed at him with a spear. He jumped back and she followed, favouring her wounded leg, short stabs at his chest and belly sending him reeling, one slicing along his side, cutting through fur and leather, grazing his ribs. He swung his axe wildly, connected with the shaft, hacking the spear-point off. The acolyte snarled and swung the spear like a staff, Drem ducking, chopping into her knee with his axe, stabbing up with his seax as she dropped, the blade punching into her belly, blood hot and sticky, gushing over his gloved fist, leaking under the sleeve of his wool tunic. He shoved the dying woman away, stood over her corpse, gasping deep breaths, looked for Fritha."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hammer roared, joining the fray, a sweep of her paw sending men and Ferals flying, one Feral impaled upon a tree branch. Another claw-swing sliced through an acolyte's belly, a slither of intestines falling about his feet. Screaming. Then the other bear was there, the giant upon its back, acolytes and Ferals leaping aside to allow it to get to Hammer.\n\nThe two bears met with a resounding thud, the ground shaking, teeth clashing, claws lacerating. Hammer crouched under a blow from the bear, swiping one paw up like a pugilist's upper-cut, claws raking across the other bear's neck, her jaws lunging, sinking into her adversary's head. A roar of pain from the creature.\n\nHammer's as fierce and battle-skilled as Sig.\n\nBut Sig wasn't upon Hammer's back.\n\nThe giant swung his war-hammer. With a sickening crunch it smashed into Hammer's shoulder and she released the bear's head to bellow her pain. She snapped at the giant, but he was swaying back out of reach, bringing his hammer high for another blow. His bear swiped at Hammer, sending her stumbling backwards, her leg giving way where the giant had struck her. She collapsed to the ground, crushing an acolyte in her fall, a great explosion of pine needles and forest litter.\n\nDrem tried to get to Hammer, slashed at an acolyte in his way, sliced a Feral across its hamstring, but there were too many between him and Sig's bear. He cast about wildly, hoping that Cullen or Keld would reach her, protect her.\n\nHe caught a glimpse of Keld, the huntsman beset by a handful of Ferals and acolytes. Even as Drem watched, he saw Keld draw his blade across his palm, hurling a fistful of his own blood at the swarming enemy before him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"What is he doing?\n\n\"Fola demo chorp, a bheith tine, sruthán mo naimhde,\" Keld bellowed, and as his blood splattered across faces and torsos it hissed and burst into tiny sparks of flame. Ferals and acolytes fell away screaming, the stench of scorched flesh filling the glade.\n\nKeld stood there, enemies writhing in agony about his feet, and then to Drem's horror he saw a Feral leap upon Keld from behind, both of them going down, the Feral's claws slashing, arcs of blood in the air. They rolled. As they stopped, the Feral was on top, rearing back with its misshapen jaws wide, claws rising. Keld lay still upon the ground.\n\n\"Keld!\" Drem yelled, trying to carve away to the huntsman, but there were too many between them.\n\n\"CULLEN!\" Drem bellowed. \"Keld is down.\"\n\nCullen was close, beset by five or six attackers, using his knife like a shield, his sword leaving bloody arcs. His eyes flickered to Drem, but then he was staggering, defending against a barrage of blows.\n\nA slate-grey blur caught Drem's eye, speeding through the melee: Fen the wolven-hound hurling himself at the Feral upon Keld, its claws held high, blood upon them. With a snarling howl, Fen slammed into the Feral, both of them rolling away, the wolven-hound on top, pinning the thrashing creature down, jaws finding the throat. A savage wrench and blood jetted, the Feral's feet drumming on the ground. Fen leaped back to the prone form of Keld, stood over him protectively, crouched, teeth bared in a bloody snarl."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The giant and his bear approached Hammer. She was trying to regain her feet, but the bear pounded her with a paw, Hammer's leg giving way again, sending her tumbling back to the ground. The bear stood over her, the giant upon its back hefting his war-hammer.\n\nDrem swept a sword away with his seax, chopped hard into the head of his attacker, denting the iron cap upon the acolyte's head, who collapsed bonelessly, then Drem charged, barrelled into a knot of acolytes pressing about Cullen, sending a handful of them flying, and saw open space between him and Hammer.\n\nThe giant upon his bear's back was raising his war-hammer.\n\nA hot pain across Drem's back and he was thrown forwards, onto his knees. He twisted, saw a Feral standing over him with blood dripping from its claws.\n\nWithout thinking, Drem twisted, kicking at the creature's ankles, saw it stumble, at the same time he was rising, stabbing with his seax, piercing the Feral's eye, its momentum as it fell driving the long knife deep until Drem felt the tip grate on the back of the beast's skull.\n\nHe shoved the twitching creature away, swivelled on his feet and threw his axe.\n\nIt struck the giant bear in the chest, sinking deep, the blade disappearing. The bear reared onto its back legs, roaring, the giant on its back thrown from his saddle, vanishing from sight. The bear crashed back to all fours, bellowed a challenge at Drem.\n\nI'm coming, Hammer.\n\nThere was a blow across Drem's back, a flare of pain lancing through the wound the Feral had just given him, a face full of pine needles as he stumbled and fell. Something was gripping his cloak, pulling him, lifting him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"His feet left the ground and he was rising, above the battle, an aerial view showing the carnage painted in blood and gore.\n\n\"This is for my brother,\" a voice grated in his ear.\n\nDrem took a moment to register the strength that had lifted him high into the air. He squirmed, his cloak knotting in the half-breed's fist. Red-hot pain seared along his waist as a knife-thrust that had been intended for his kidneys scored a red line. Another twist and he was facing the half-breed, his face so close to hers he could smell her stale breath. Her eyes blazed their hatred at him and her fist drew back for another stab of her knife.\n\nDrem jerked with his seax, blocking the blade, and headbutted the half-breed across the bridge of her flat nose. Blood and cartilage burst, spattering his face, and the half-breed reeled back, wings sagging.\n\nHe headbutted her again, harder, saw her eyes rollback into her head, her wings folding, her grip upon his cloak going slack and he fell away from her, saw her begin a slow plummet back to the ground.\n\nThen he realized he was falling, too.\n\nA moment of weightlessness and panic as he spun his arms, saw the ground rushing up to him. He landed on Hammer, fur and flesh breaking his fall. She was trying to rise again, the other bear advancing on her, the giant nowhere to be seen.\n\nDrem rolled off Hammer, still gripping his seax. He shifted it to his left hand and, drawing his father's sword, set his feet between Hammer and the other bear.\n\nBlood sluiced down its chest, soaking its fur from Hammer's claw-gouges and Drem's axe, though the wounds had not gone deep enough, not reached any vital organ. It opened its jaws and roared at him, spittle flying, the power of it sending him staggering back apace."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He shook his head and set his feet again.\n\n\"Come on, then, death,\" he snarled at the bear, \"but I'll give you a scar or two to remember me by.\"\n\nTwo figures stepped around the bear: the giant, raising a hand and giving a command to the bear, and beside him, Fritha.\n\nSomething in Drem stirred at the sight of her, fair-haired, a scattering of freckles beneath the blue eyes that stared only at him. A memory of how she'd made him feel, before. A bearskin cloak was thrown back across her shoulders, dark-boiled leather armour covering her torso. She held a short-sword in her hand, dripping red.\n\nWhose blood is that? Which of my friends?\n\nHe saw the Starstone Sword scabbarded at her waist, had a vivid memory of how she had taken it, of kneeling beside his father in the snow, holding his da's hand as he coughed blood.\n\nHe took an involuntary step towards her, checked himself.\n\nFritha looked at his stance, sword held high, seax low.\n\n\"Scorpion's tail andiron gate combined,\" Fritha said with amusement. \"Your new friend's teaching you the sword dance?\" Drem said nothing. \"Come with me, I can teach you more than those blind idiots at the Order.\"\n\n\"Step a little closer,\" Drem said, \"and I'll show you what they've taught me.\"\n\n\"I offered,\" Fritha said. \"Either way you're coming back with me; of your own will or in chains.\"\n\n\"There's a third option,\" Drem said and lunged with his sword."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha swept Drem's lunge away, the calculating part of her mind noting how he overextended as he lunged, but at the same time she saw him check and adjust his balance, a natural shifting of his feet and legs that showed him to be a natural fighter, and she knew that in time he would make a skilled swordsman.\n\nIf he were given the chance to learn.\n\nShe was annoyed with herself. Why had she just offered him the chance of joining her, when he had already spurned her once? She'd had every intention of crushing him and dragging him back to Gulla as a prize. But there had been something in his eyes as she'd approached him, just fora moment. It had reminded her of the way he had looked at her once, all innocence and trust, that she had found so endearing and fascinating. Fora heartbeat it had taken her back to another time, the time before, when life was not all about the dark beating heart of revenge. That look in Drem's eyes had faded in a flash, though-if it had ever been thereat all-replaced by something all too well known to her.\n\nBlame and hatred.\n\nWho is he to judge me?\n\nShe strode at him, swayed as he chopped down at her with his sword, parried the stab of his seax and stepped in close, within his guard, elbowing him in the mouth and sending him reeling.\n\nShe paused a moment, pointed her short-sword at Drem's heart, then followed after him, saw the flicker of his eyes that betrayed his next move, caught his sword-strike on her blade, sparks grating as she rotated her wrist, cutting his forearm, and he cried out, dropping the sword. He swung at her with his seax, but she caught the blow easily, deflected it wide and countered, cutting a red line across Drem's chest. He stumbled backwards, tripped and fell. She kicked him in the gut, put a boot on his chest and levelled her sword at his throat."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Chains it is, then,\" she said.\n\nA deafening roar filled the woodland.\n\nFritha paused, looked up. She'd heard a lot of roaring this past day, mostly from giant bears, and that was loud enough to rattle her brain in her skull. But this sound was different. Not a bear. For one thing, it was louder, which didn't give her much comfort. There was also an edge to it that set the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.\n\nShe looked about the clearing. Everyone who was still standing within it was frozen, like her, searching for the origin of such a terrible sound.\n\nThen she saw it. A monstrous shape emerging from the shadows. It was huge, not quite as tall as Claw, but wider and longer. It was serpentine, reminiscent of the lizards Fritha had seen sunning themselves in the south, but a thousand times bigger, with green-brown mottled skin, like a snake's. Its belly was low to the ground, set upon four immensely powerful bowed legs, splayed feet with claws like the curved swords the Horse Clans of Arcona wielded. Along, wide tail swayed behind its bulk, but Fritha's eyes were drawn to its head. Abroad, flat skull, its muzzle long with a square-tipped jaw full of razored teeth that dripped with thick saliva or ichor. Its eyes were small and black, gleaming with a primal fury.\n\nIs that a draig?\n\nSpiders crawled down her spine.\n\nThe creature paused, surveying them all, petty intruders within its realm. It opened its vast jaws and roared again, trees and branches shaking, setting the ground to trembling, vibrations passing into Fritha's boots, up her legs."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then it charged.\n\nFor something so vast and squat it was incredibly fast, surging forwards on its muscular legs, scythe-like claws sending great gouts of snow and earth arcing into the air.\n\nFora timeless moment Fritha was frozen, fear and awe immobilizing her.\n\nDrem shifted beneath her, his arm knocking her boot off his chest, sending her stumbling away. He leaped to his feet, pushed her hard in the chest and she crashed to the ground, rolling in the pine needles.\n\nAnd then the draig was between them, a surging leviathan of muscle. It barrelled into a knot of Fritha's acolytes, sent them careening through the air, powerful jaws clamping upon one, a ripple of its sinuous neck muscles and her acolyte was severed in two, only his legs and hips remaining.\n\n\"TOME!\" Fritha yelled, staggering to her feet, unsure if anyone had heard her, her natural instinct to order the shield wall, but she'd commanded that all shields be left behind on this hunt through the wild, thought it was unnecessary weight that would have slowed them down.\n\nArn and Elise ran to her; a handful more joined them.\n\nThe draig's head snapped around, eyes fixing upon something. Fritha saw it was the wolven-hound that stood over the form of Drem's companion.\n\nThe huntsman of the group, that is how the Order of the Bright Star work: always a captain, a huntsman with wolven-hounds, and a few fresh warriors.\n\nThe huntsman was moving sluggishly, the wolven-hound crouched over him, snarling and snapping at the draig."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The draig clearly didn't like that challenge to its supremacy. It broke into its scuttling run, Fritha's acolytes frantically leaping aside as it charged. Fritha felt a jolt of shock when she saw that the wolven-hound did not bolt and flee like everything else in the draig's path. Instead it gathered its legs beneath it and burst into a run at the draig, not away. Bounding and leaping, the wolven-hound twisted in the air, avoiding the gaping mouth with snapping jaws by a hair's breadth, skidding along the draig's head, its claws raking from muzzle to skull, finding purchase, the wolven-hound's fangs sinking deep into the draig's neck. It hung there, back legs scrabbling, ripping bloody rents in the draig's scaly skin.\n\nThe draig bellowed, head whipping round, jaws snapping, trying to reach its assailant, tail lashing in its pain and rage, crushing the ribs of an acolyte unfortunate enough to be in its trajectory.\n\nA savage shake of the draig's body, and with a tearing and rending of flesh, the wolven-hound's fang's tore free from the draig's neck, the creature swiping a claw at the hound as it fell through the air, punching it flying, crunching into a tree. The crackle of breaking bones. The wolven-hound whined, fell to the ground and did not move.\n\nThe draig cast its head about for its next victim.\n\nAn ear-splitting roar and Claw was lumbering to attack. The two beasts came together like a thunderclap, the force of it knocking men and women from their feet. Bear and draig slashed, raked and bit atone another, their vast bulks heaving, straining, claws gouging bloody streaks through fur and scale and flesh, jaws seeking purchase, snapping, biting. Claw cried in pain, staggering back, blood leaking from a myriad of wounds, the draig mercilessly ploughing forwards, a strike of its claws across the bear's head sending it crashing to the ground."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Gunil bellowed a challenge and charged, his war-hammer swinging in a loop, crunching into the draig's ribs, the sound of splintering bone, a scream from the draig, its tail whipping at Gunil, sending him reeling, clutching his side.\n\n\"TOME, TOME!\" Fritha screamed over and over as she lurched into motion, knew that one by one the draig would defeat them all.\n\nAs she broke into a run her Ferals gathered about her, only a handful of them still living. Arn, Elise and a few others were already with her. Others, hearing her call, came stumbling and staggering as they approached the draig.\n\nClaw was back on his feet, growling, a heavy paw-strike lashing the draig's head. Gunil staggered back into the fray, swung his hammer, howling with the pain it caused him, and crunched it into one of the draig's clawed feet, pulping flesh.\n\nFritha barked a command and her Ferals swept forwards, some leaping onto the draig's flanks, clawing and biting, others slinking under the vast bulk of its belly, raking, teeth sinking into meat. Her acolytes spread wide, some with spears stabbing, drawing blood, others darting in with swords, slashing, stabbing, leaping away. Fritha sheathed her short-sword, drew the Starstone Sword and slashed with it, leaving a black, smoking line of charred flesh across the draig's flank.\n\nThe draig roared its frustration as Fritha and her crew worried at it like a wolven pack bringing down an elk. But it was not dead yet. A swipe of claws disembowelled a Feral. An adder-like dart of its head, and the draig snatched up an acolyte who had lingered too long to attack, eviscerating her with a shake of its powerful neck. Elise and Arn stabbed with spears, and it spun to face them, Arn leaping away from a swipe of its scythe-like claws, Elise stumbling, trying to protect herself with her spear, the draig smashing it to kindling, hurling Elise like a straw doll through the air."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And then a winged shape swooped from above: Morn, sword in her fist, alighting upon the draig's back, between its shoulder blades. She set her feet, raised her sword high and stabbed down, the blade sinking deep.\n\nThe draig bellowed in agony, reared up, Morn's wings beating, somehow managing to keep her balanced atop the writhing draig, and she twisted her sword ever deeper. Acolytes and Ferals rushed in at the creature's exposed belly, stabbing, slashing, Gunil and Claw pounding at the draig with powerful blows.\n\nWith one last roar, the draig toppled onto its side, claws lashing out, taking the head from another acolyte. Morn appeared upon it, wrenched her sword free, stabbed in a frenzy, arcs of blood. Fritha stepped in, set her feet and swung her sword, opening up a huge wound upon its belly, blood and intestines spilling out, a stench erupting, sending Fritha reeling.\n\nOne last shudder, a strangled growl, and the draig died.\n\nA sudden silence followed, punctuated by Fritha's ragged breaths, the groans of the injured, then Claw roared his victory.\n\n\"Fritha.\" A choking breath.\n\nShe cast about, saw Arn kneeling beside Elise, cradling her. Fritha ran to them, knelt beside her friends, saw tears in Arn's eyes.\n\nElise was deathly white, one arm shattered, her leg twisted in an unnatural angle, and bone protruding from her side, her ribs smashed. The acolyte coughed, speckles of blood stark and vivid on her too-pale chin."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Help her,\" Arn said.\n\nFritha checked Elise over, knew what Arn was asking of her.\n\nThe earth magic. Words of power.\n\nFritha looked into Arn's eyes. \"You know I am no adept, my knowledge is limited-\"\n\nHe grabbed her wrist. \"It's Elise. Just try. Help her, please.\"\n\nAlong breath sucked in.\n\nThen another thought broke through her worry for Elise.\n\nWhere's Drem?\n\n\"Staunch the bleeding and clean her wounds,\" Fritha said, standing. \"I will be back soon, will do what I can.\"\n\nShe looked about wildly, couldn't see him, saw that the Order's huntsman was no longer sprawled upon the ground.\n\nWhere's the bear?\n\n\"FIND THEM!\" she screamed, searching the glade, saw the dead scattered everywhere, the tall dunghill mounds, but no Drem, no bear, no warriors of the Order. Her Ferals loped away, but there were so many overpowering scents that they seemed confused, bounding off indifferent directions.\n\n\"This way,\" a voice cried from above. Morn was swooping through branches, heading away from the battleground, west.\n\nFritha followed, found that she was limping, a pain in her leg, and saw a gash through her leather breeks, blood leaking. She ignored it.\n\nThe roar of a river growing louder. A shape moving in the distance.\n\nSig's bear.\n\nShe used her last strength to reach the riverbank, a handful of acolytes running past her, flitting through the trees ahead.\n\nAn explosion of water, falling upon her acolytes like a wave, scattered them like leaves."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fifty paces and Fritha was with them, staring past them.\n\nA wide river roared and foamed, turbulent with snow and spinning broken sheets of ice, floating like icy rafts upon the waters. She saw the bear in the water, two people clinging to it, another lying sprawled upon one of the ice-sheets. Within heartbeats the river had sped them all around a bend, out of view.\n\nHer eyes searched for paths, saw that in a few hundred paces the shallow bank she was stood upon gave way to rearing granite cliffs. The only way to follow them was to leap into the river.\n\nFritha shrieked her frustration to the sky.\n\nSo close. I was so close. And I cannot return to Gulla empty-handed. My position is not so secure that failure will not damage it. There are many others willing and waiting to take my place.\n\n\"They have escaped us,\" Gunil said behind her.\n\nThat's not helpful. She resisted the urge to turnaround and stab the giant.\n\n\"For now,\" she muttered.\n\n\"Fritha,\" Gunil said to her. She tore her eyes away from the bend in the river where Drem had disappeared.\n\n\"What?\" she snapped, looking over her shoulder to seethe giant looming over her. She had not heard his approach, which was worrying.\n\nBreathe. Focus. This is not over yet; there are many leagues between here and Dun Seren.\n\n\"You should see this,\" the giant said to her, and without waiting, turned and walked back into the woods. She noticed he favoured one leg, and his right arm was held tucked tight to his ribs. Her leg throbbed, and she paused to cut a strip of cloth from her cloak and tie it high, above the wound. She counted heads as she followed Gunil back to the clearing, was appalled at the result. Thirteen of her Ferals still standing, sixteen of her Red Right Hand, though she would be hard-pressed to find one unharmed from their battles."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Little more than a score left, when fifty of us set out after three men, a bear, a hound and a crow. She ground her teeth in anger.\n\nArn had carried Elise to the edge of the clearing, laid her down with the other injured where the healers amongst them were doing what they could.\n\nI will join them soon, do what I can.\n\nThe draig lay with the dead scattered about it. Fritha walked to it, ran a gloved finger along the line of its jaw, traced a curved fang.\n\nOh, how I wish we could have captured you, taken you back to Gulla in a cage. The creatures I could have fashioned from your flesh. But I need life to fashion life, not dead, butchered meat and congealed blood.\n\nSome of her men were already seeing to the butchering, skinning and finishing off the gutting of the dead beast, cutting claws from its feet, extracting teeth from its jaws.\n\nWe need these trophies, else no one would ever believe us.\n\nDeep wounds raked one side of the draig's head, puncture wounds a little further along on its neck, inflicted by the wolven-hound. Fritha remembered it standing over the Order's huntsman, protecting him, hurling itself at the draig.\n\nSuch fierce loyalty... She shook her head. I want that, need that.\n\n\"This way,\" Gunil said, leading Fritha on, past the dunghills, deeper into the trees. They dropped into a small gully, with banks rearing either side of them, thick with knotted tree-roots. Gunil paused at the entrance to a cave, tore a strip of linen from the tunic beneath his leather vest, wrapped it around the butt-end of his war-hammer and struck sparks with striking iron and flint."},{"from":"human","value":"Holding the makeshift torch aloft, he strode into the cave, revealing a tunnel that sloped gently downwards."},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was tall and wide; Gunil did not need to duck his head. Fritha followed, the smell stale and unpleasant, but better than the dunghills. Torchlight flickered on uneven walls, thick ridges scoured into hard-packed earth, and Fritha realized they were made by draig-claws.\n\nThis was its den.\n\nA little further on and the tunnel opened into a wider chamber. Something crunched under Fritha's feet: bones, a carpet of them as thick as the pine needle litter above ground. Some smaller-badgers, foxes-others much larger, elk, what resembled a bear. She spied other shapes amidst the bones, occasionally a human skull. A ribcage here, spine there, another creature, a large skull with long canines. Fritha recognized the anatomy of a wolven; she'd carved enough of them up, fused them into something else. They strode on, towards a shadowy shape at the centre of the room.\n\nGunil and Fritha stood before it, Gunil raising his torch high. At first glance Fritha thought it was ahead, not yet fully decomposed, but as she stooped to see it better she saw it was too symmetrical, devoid of mouth, eyes, jaws. Roughly oval in shape, there were colours swirling across it, hues rippling, like inks spilt into water.\n\nFritha felt a smile spreading over her face, the sense of frustration and defeat that had settled upon her like a shroud suddenly lifted, evaporating.\n\n\"A draig's egg,\" she said into the darkness."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bleda sat on his horse, staring ahead at the warriors marching on foot in front of him. Threescore White-Wings, all polished leather and bright steel. Colossal trees reared high on either side of the narrow road, branches looping and latticing above them. He twisted in his saddle and looked back over his shoulder, saw another two score of the black-and-silver clothed warriors marching behind. Shadows flitted across him, shapes skimming along the road they were following and, looking up, he saw Ben-Elim circling high above, yet still beneath the canopy of Forn's great trees.\n\nHe drew in along, slow breath, mastering the emotions that were roiling within him: anger and fear, confusion and revulsion, as well as the fatigue and sense of sorrow that he'd noticed settled over him after a battle, the knowledge that lives had been snuffed out, men and women that he had talked with, eaten with-suddenly gone. It left a hollow place within him. And of course, there was Kol and the Ben-Elim.\n\nThey say we are pardoned, welcomed back into the arms of the Faithful, but I feel more like a prisoner being marched to my execution. And no one asked me if I wanted to be welcomed back.\n\nHe had sat outside the woodsman's hut when Riv had been hauled inside, as stunned as the rest of them by Aphra's revelation.\n\nRiv is Kol's daughter.\n\nObviously, he had known that one of the Ben-Elim washer father, but Kol! He did not know how he felt about that.\n\nBleda and the others had laid down their weapons. Bleda had no heart to fight on with Riv a prisoner, fearing what Kol might do to her, and he knew that continuing to fight was futile-they were too outnumbered-so he'd chosen to save the lives of his surviving bondsmen. Only three of his ten guards still lived, and Old Ellac, who seemed immortal. The dead had been buried beneath cairns back at the woodsman's hut, alongside over a dozen Ben-Elim and White-Wings."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Vald and Jost rode with Bleda, Ellac and his three men, which surprised Bleda a little. He'd thought they would be back marching with the White-Wings, especially as it was Aphra's hundred, the very unit that Vald and Jost had trained with all of their lives. To see them riding alongside his men was another reminder that so much had changed, that life was abruptly, unalterably, different, and he was clearly not the only one to feel that way.\n\nJost had a wide bandage wrapped around his head, dried blood crusting on it. He was swaying a little in his saddle, and not just because he was a poor rider; he was still concussed from the blow to his head, a clump from the butt-end of a Ben-Elim's spear that had bled for half a day.\n\nWhen Bleda had seen Kol stride into the woodsman's hut he had thought the end must be close, his hand finding the secret dagger hidden in his boot, though he hadn't really known what he was going to do with it.\n\nSave Riv, kill Kol, maybe. Or at least try. Or kill myself, rather than let Kol have the pleasure.\n\nI am surprised that any of us are still alive.\n\nIt had been along time later that Kol had emerged, and Bleda had been stunned to see Riv walking out into the glade with him. Riv had stood with her head down while Kol had made a speech about the time for bloodletting and vengeance being over, and as the new Lord Protector he wanted to build anew world of peace and harmony. He would start that right now, by forgiving and absolving Riv and her companions of any wrongdoing.\n\nBleda had almost fallen over with shock."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"While Kol spoke, Bleda had looked only at Riv, tried to catch her eye. He saw that she had a wound on her shoulder, freshly stitched, and that she was clenching her right hand into a fist, blood welling from between her fingers, dripping on the ground.\n\nWhen did that happen?\n\nOnly once had Riv looked at him, when Kol had been speaking of forgiveness and moving on together, and she had nodded at him, as if agreeing with Kol's words. And urging him to agree, also.\n\nWhat happened in that hut? How can she be going along with this? She was going to Drassil to kill Kol, and now she is making peace with him. Is it part of some plan, or is it because Kol is her father? Has that changed how she feels about him? He slew Dalmae, is a murderer.\n\nHe felt confused, angry, bewildered, and deeply worried for Riv.\n\nFeeling and recognizing all these emotions now, he had come to the strange realization that for the last moon or so, he had been... happy.\n\nDespite the shock of Kol's coup and the flight in the dead of night into the endless twilight of Forn, despite living in a woodsman's hut, shorn of the comfort and luxuries that being a prince, even if he was award of the Ben-Elim, had given him. It had been along time since he had felt able to relax his cold-face, to allow his feelings to emerge from the depths where he kept them so well controlled and hidden. And he knew there was a reason for that.\n\nRiv.\n\nSomehow, she had managed to pick, chip and bore a hole through his guard, fracturing his protective shield. He felt as if he had stepped out from a dark place into the light of the sun."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And now it was over, his cold-face shifting back into place, but beneath it emotions boiled, foremost of all worry for his friend.\n\nWhere is Riv?\n\nHe searched the skies, looked front and back again, but could not see her.\n\nAnd now they were going back to Drassil, five or six days'travel through Forn before they would seethe giant walls of the Banished Lands\" greatest fortress. It was not a sight that Bleda was looking forward to.\n\nA horn blast rang out. Aphra was standing at the head of their column, a fist raised, the signal to make camp for the night. They rippled to a halt and then two winged shapes flew over Bleda and his companions: Kol and Riv. They alighted in a swirl of leaves beside Aphra.\n\nRiv did not so much as glance at Bleda or her friends.\n\nDarkness, as thick and dense as a wall, loomed about Bleda. He was sitting beside afire with Ellac, as well as his three guards: a man named Tuld, taller than was common amongst the Sirak, and two women, Ruga and Mirim, sisters whom Bleda struggled to tell apart. All had injuries from the fight at the hut, but most of them were superficial, only Mirim having a deeper wound in her thigh. Ruga was checking on it now, cleaning it with boiled water that had been left to cool. All three of them were shaven-haired, apart from the long braids that marked them as Sirak warriors.\n\nBleda was tending to his bow, fora moment lost in the memory of its making, so long ago; his brother had helped him craft the weapon. It was one of his most treasured memories, recalling a time when the world seemed stable and solid, and also exciting, with so much promise for his future, and he had been sure of his place within it. He remembered his brother's voice, teaching him to sand the sturgeon glue with rough sharkskin, his brother's arm around his shoulders, the both of them laughing."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But now he is dead.\n\nNow, all was influx.\n\nHe could not just go back to Drassil and resume the life he had been leading; it felt impossible. His eyes searched out Kol, sitting at a campfire with a handful of his Ben-Elim and some of Aphra's White-Wings. Kol was drinking from a skin, laughing.\n\nHe is king, now, the Lord Protector of the Banished Lands. The man who slew my brother and sister, and shamed my mother. He has slain Israfil, slain Riv's kin, and yet he sits there drinking and laughing.\n\n\"What do you think has happened to the rest of my honour guard?\" Bleda asked.\n\nEllac had led one hundred Sirak warriors from Arcona to Drassil as Bleda's personal honour guard, and only ten of them had been about him on the chaotic night that he had saved Riv from the madness of Kol's coup. It was those ten warriors who had accompanied him into Forn Forest, and now seven of them were dead.\n\nYour sacrifice will not be forgotten.\n\n\"Who can say what Kol has done with them?\" Ellac shrugged.\n\nBleda felt a dark mood settling upon him, struggled to stop it from showing. He mourned the loss of his guards, felt the weight of responsibility for their deaths.\n\n\"Ellac, Ruga, Tuld, Mirim,\" he said, and they all looked at him.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"For what?\" Ruga asked, frowning.\n\n\"For keeping your oaths, for standing with me.\"\n\nEllac snorted. The other three were looking at Bleda with quizzical looks."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You are our prince, and we are oathsworn to you,\" Tuld said, as if that explained everything.\n\n\"Aye, and Erdene would take our right hands if we failed you,\" Ruga said, a fleeting smile wrinkling her cold-face.\n\nShe probably would.\n\n\"You are brave and loyal,\" Bleda said, \"and I will not forget it.\"\n\nFootsteps. Bleda, looking up, fire-blind fora moment, saw two forms approaching, both tall, one thin, one broad.\n\n\"Mind if we join you?\" Vald said.\n\nBleda looked up at them. \"Of course not,\" he said, shuffling to make room for them around the fire.\n\n\"Why are you not with your people?\" Ellac asked.\n\n\"Doesn't feel right,\" Jost said. \"We've been trained as White-Wings, but today was the first real battle we've seen, fought in, and we stood with you, not them. You stood with us, against them. That should mean something, not be forgotten.\"\n\n\"Kol your Lord Protector said that enmity was all behind us,\" Ellac said. Bleda saw he was staring keenly at the two young men.\n\n\"A world of difference between saying something and it being real,\" Vald muttered.\n\n\"There is,\" Ellac said flatly.\n\nA shifting in the air, an unseen wind, and then dark shapes were descending, solid shadows dropping out of the night, taking form.\n\nKol, a few Ben-Elim with him, and Riv. Bleda felt a lurch in his chest at the sight of her. They alighted at the edge of Bleda's firelight, shadow and flame casting them in hues of red and black."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv stood a step behind Kol, her eyes taking in Vald and Jost with Bleda and his guard, meeting Bleda's gaze fora lingering moment, then looking away.\n\n\"A token to prove that I mean what I say,\" Kol said. He gestured a hand, and one of the Ben-Elim stepped forwards, carrying a heavy bundle in his arms, wrapped in a wool cloak. He dropped it on the ground before Bleda, and weapons spilt out-the curved swords of the Sirak, knives, quivers of arrows, spears. Vald and Jost's short-swords were there, too. The weapons that had been confiscated after the fight at the cabin.\n\n\"Take them back, wear them freely,\" Kol said. \"A sign both of my forgiveness for your past deeds, and of the trust I am giving you, for the future.\" His eyes flitted to Riv, then back to Bleda and his companions.\n\nIs this for Riv's benefit? I do not trust him.\n\nNevertheless, Bleda stepped forwards and picked out his quiver and arrows, his weapons-belt with scabbarded sword and knife, and slung them over his shoulder. The others followed Bleda's lead, apart from Mirim, who sat with her wounded leg stretched out straight before her.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Bleda said. Six years living and surviving amongst the Ben-Elim at Drassil had taught him to keep his emotions closely guarded, and always to be polite, never to give cause for offence or to betray his thoughts.\n\nEllac sat and silently drew his sword, lay it across his lap and, fetching whetstone, scouring pad and oil from his belt pouch, set to cleaning black patches from his blade, the blood of Ben-Elim, no doubt. Ruga and Tuld did the same, Ruga passing sword and quiver to Mirim."},{"from":"human","value":"Kol watched in silence, firelight shining red in his eyes."},{"from":"gpt","value":"When the weapons had all been reclaimed he nodded, looked at Bleda.\n\n\"Remember the kindness I am showing you, and the faith I am putting in you,\" the Ben-Elim said.\n\n\"I will,\" Bleda said.\n\nI will remember this, and all else that you have done.\n\n\"I will, Lord Protector,\" Kol said.\n\nA moment's silence, stretching. Bleda felt his companions\" eyes on him.\n\n\"I will, Lord Protector,\" Bleda said quietly.\n\n\"I like the sound of that.\" Kol grinned and leaped into the air, white wings snapping wide, his guard following. Riv paused, knees bent. Her wings beat, lifting her.\n\n\"Riv,\" Bleda called out, and she hovered, looking down at him.\n\nHe just stared at her, felt his cold-face slip as he gazed into her eyes, so many things that he wanted to say, questions to ask.\n\nRiv must have read them upon his face, but she did not land and talk to him, as he'd hoped. She looked down at him, her expression shifting. Grief, sorrow, shame, anger-always anger with Riv-all finally washed away by some kind of stony resolve that was not too different from Bleda's own cold-face.\n\n\"It is for the greater good,\" she said, and then with a pulse of her wings she disappeared into the darkness.\n\nBleda sat with the others, a subdued silence settling over them all, just the rasp of whetstones and crackle of fire as they tended to their weapons.\n\nAll except Ellac were sleeping when Bleda unrolled his sleeping blanket and lay down upon it. The old warrior was sitting and gazing into the fire like some oak-carved statue."},{"from":"human","value":"\"What is it?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bleda said to him, leaning upon an elbow.\n\nDoes he think me weak, for not standing up to Kol, for calling him lord?\n\nEllac looked at him, but said nothing, then looked back to the fire. With a sigh, Bleda lay down, rolling over with his back to Ellac. Sleep took along time to come, despite the soporific crackle and pop of the fire as it slowly faded. He reached inside his cloak, found what he was looking for and pulled it out carefully, opening his palm in the dying fire-glow.\n\nA large feather, dapple grey, and, folded within it, a purple flower of mountain thyme. He lay there looking at it, thinking, until sleep claimed him.\n\nDrassil was ahead of them; tall and foreboding, banners snapping in the breeze from towers and walls, the silhouettes of Ben-Elim circling lazily above it. Six days of riding it had taken them to reach the ancient fortress, and Bleda felt his breath coming faster, a tension in his shoulders as he rode through the huge field of cairns that spread across the plain before the western gates.\n\nKol ordered horns blown as they crossed the field of cairns, and horn blasts echoed out from the gate tower in response.\n\nAll cannot go back to how it was-it must not. The world is changing.\n\n\"My mother must know of what is happening here,\" he whispered to Ellac, leaning close to the old warrior, who was riding beside him.\n\nEllac looked at him, his heavy-lidded eyes unreadable, though Bleda had the distinct impression that Bleda was appraising him.\n\n\"I sent word to her the day we took Riv from Drassil,\" Ellac said. \"My Prince,\" he added."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\\nAuthor: John Gwynne\\nTitle: A Time of Blood\\nChapter: 12\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha's breath was loud in her ears, her heart a drum in her chest. She was surrounded by snow and ice, but her leathers and furs were warm, her bearskin cloak a weight upon her shoulders, and she felt exhilarated by the thrill of the chase. She was close to catching Drem and his companions, she knew, the behaviour of her Ferals spurring heron. They were as excited by the hunt as she was, snapping and growling, some bounding on ahead up the steep incline, only returning reluctantly at her stern summons.\\n\\nThey're excited, like hounds scenting their prey, close to the kill.\\n\\n\\\"We are close,\\\" Gunil said. He was striding beside her, Claw lumbering behind.\\n\\nAn ear-splitting roar echoed through the forest, sending crows flapping and squawking from branches, making Fritha and her crew pause in their tracks.\\n\\nThat was a bear.\\n\\n\\\"Best mount up,\\\" Fritha said to Gunil, then without checking to see if he obeyed or not, she broke into a loping stride, her acolytes increasing their speed with her, the remaining Ferals bursting with the urge to run and kill, looking from her to the sounds filtering down to them, like hounds pulling on a leash.\\n\\nA bright light was glaring through the treeline. She drew a short-sword at her hip, felt more comfortable with it than the Starstone Sword, which she left in its scabbard, and barked a command. Her Ferals leaped into a sprint while she and her acolytes spread into a wider line after them, Arn and Elise either side of her. She heard the crash of Gunil and Claw somewhere behind.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then she was bursting from the treeline into a small clearing, snow swirling, obscuring her vision.\\n\\nThe snow was churned, a mess of hoof-and paw-prints, boots here and there.\\n\\nThey stopped here, to rest, water their mounts?\\n\\nFritha turned a circle, saw flickering pinpoints of firelight far below.\\n\\nGulla's work.\\n\\nGunil and his bear lumbered into the clearing, the giant holding his war-hammer across his lap.\\n\\n\\\"They're gone,\\\" he said.\\n\\nHe has a talent for stating the obvious.\\n\\nFritha gestured, and Arn and Elise spread wider, searching for tracks. Elise raised a hand. \\\"There.\\\" She pointed. She was fair-haired, like Fritha, and of a similar age, twenty-five summers. Arn said they looked like sisters, which may have been why they had become so close, so quickly. That and the grief they shared. Elise was small-framed, fragile-looking to someone who did not know her, but Fritha knew better, knew the strength in her sinewed frame, but more than that, her strength of mind, more determined than a huntsman's hound.\\n\\nSeeing your mother hung from a tree will focus the mind, or break it, Fritha thought.\\n\\nElise was pointing to bear-and hoof-prints that led into a stream, then continued on the far side back into the cover of trees, though the woodland grew thinner here.\\n\\nThere's still not much chance of tracking them from the skies in this snowstorm.\\n\\n\\\"With me,\\\" Fritha called, her Red Right Hand gathering around her. \\\"Gunil, Morn,\\\" she shouted. Thumping steps, a draught of wind, and Gunil and Morn joined her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The chase is on,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"They are running now, no thought for stealth. We are the wolven, they the elk, we shall run them to bay.\\\" She paused, looked again at the tracks of the bear. \\\"They're fleeing up, into the Bonefells, maybe hoping to lose us in the snarl of the wild. They are wrong.\\\" She gave a cold smile.\\n\\n\\\"Anseo,\\\" Fritha called, and the Ferals stopped in their sniffing and snuffling around the glade and loped over to her. One of them whined.\\n\\n\\\"Ah, my children,\\\" Fritha said, stroking one's gore-crusted jaw. \\\"You'll feast soon, on bear and horse and man-flesh. Now, though, we hunt.\\\"\\n\\nThe Feral threw its head back and howled, the others joining in. Then they were crashing across the stream, bounding after the tracks. Fritha lifted a hand and her acolytes followed.\\n\\n\\\"Gunil, Morn, wait,\\\" she said. \\\"Gunil, can you kill their bear? It bested you at the mine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sig is dead.\\\" Gunil shrugged. \\\"We will kill it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are both injured.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We will kill it,\\\" he assured her.\\n\\n\\\"Good. Morn, stay close.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll fly as I please, you wingless worm,\\\" Morn snarled.\\n\\n\\\"You'll fly close, or Gulla will hear of your recklessness and disobedience,\\\" Fritha said.\\n\\nMorn's face twisted, a curt nod. Her knees bent, and she launched into the air, though Fritha saw she stayed circling overhead.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Good.\\n\\n\\\"Now, let's finish this.\\\"\\n\\nFritha wiped sweat from her eyes and raised a fist, drawing to a halt, sucked in deep breaths and uncorked a water skin. Half a day they had been chasing Drem and his companions, ever up into the Bonefells, the tree-clad hillslopes shifting into narrow gullies, granite cliffs and shingle ridges. Her chest was heaving, legs burning with the exertion. She was no soft weakling-a lifetime of training on the weapons-field had honed her body to flint, and what had happened afterwards had honed her spirit to that same knife-edge hardness, but life with the Kadoshim was not one of outright military campaigns, and so her body was feeling the pace.\\n\\nNot everyday I try to outrun a Dun Seren war bear.\\n\\nBut they were gaining; drops of blood fresher, Fritha guessed from wounds sustained during the battle at the mine.\\n\\nThe ground was changing, rockier, less sure underfoot, so the fact that Drem and the other two were mounted was giving their quarry less of an advantage. The rocky terrain was also making it harder to track them, though.\\n\\nShe put two fingers to her lips and whistled, summoning her Ferals back to her. They seemed as fresh as when the day had begun.\\n\\nThe snow was lessening, glimpses of broken cloud and sky were appearing; the sun was sinking towards the horizon. Two paths stood before Fritha. A narrow ravine leading up into the mountains and a wider path that sloped downwards.\\n\\nMorn alighted upon a boulder.\\n\\n\\\"Report,\\\" Fritha said.\\n\\n\\\"They are in the ravine,\\\" Morn said. \\\"It runs for several leagues.\\\" Fritha had sent her ahead to scout the way, a test of Morn's new-found obedience.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And this path?\\\" Fritha asked, pointing at the one that sloped downhill. \\\"Can you reach the ravine's exit by following it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It drops back into woodland, but yes, you can reach the ravine's exit that way.\\\"\\n\\nGood. A flush of excitement.\\n\\n\\\"Take ten of my Ferals.\\\" Fritha called out names, summoning her most obedient children, the ones she knew would follow her orders, even when she was out of sight. \\\"You will have to move fast. Lead them to the ravine's exit, hold our prey there. We shall be close behind.\\\"\\n\\nFritha drew her short-sword, signalling for her followers to fan out behind her as she set off into the narrow ravine. Soon the Ferals with her began to behave oddly. They'd grown excited, started snapping and slavering, but now they were hanging back, following rather than leading.\\n\\nDrem, where are you?\\n\\nGranite cliffs reared to either side of her, the ravine narrowed so that only three or four men could walk abreast.\\n\\nIt's a good spot to make a stand, especially if you've a giant bear to fill the hole. They should be here, fighting, making use of this bottleneck. Of course, they are not to know that Morn and my Ferals will be creeping up and stabbing them in the back.\\n\\nBut there was no sign of them. There was little snow here, the arch of rocks keeping the ground clear, and no soil or foliage to search for evidence of their passing. Then she saw movement ahead, figures shifting around a boulder. Something about them looked wrong.\\n\\nFritha swore under her breath.\\n\\nThey are my Ferals.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They were gathered around a shape, the distinct sound of flesh tearing echoing up the ravine to Fritha.\\n\\nThe outline of Morn appeared atop the boulder. In her grip she held the bridle of a horse.\\n\\nFritha ran forwards, trying to control the anger she felt that Morn and her Ferals had slain Drem and the others. She wanted him as a slave, or at least the pleasure of seeing him die. As she drew closer she saw her Ferals were gathered around two dead horses, their muzzles and claws red as they feasted.\\n\\nSomething's wrong. There's no bear, or people.\\n\\n\\\"Where are they?\\\" Fritha called up to Morn.\\n\\n\\\"I was about to ask you the same question,\\\" the half-breed called down to her.\\n\\n\\\"They are not here,\\\" Gunil pointed out.\\n\\nFritha cast him a dark look.\\n\\n\\\"Stake the horse,\\\" she ordered Morn. \\\"It will feed my Ferals later, but now we must continue our hunt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Anseo,\\\" she called, and the Ferals looked up from their feasting, muzzle-red. Some of them loped over to her, others went back to their meal.\\n\\n\\\"Laithreach,\\\" Fritha growled, and the others pulled themselves from the horses' carcasses, reluctantly joining Fritha.\\n\\nThey retraced their steps, Fritha's Ferals given the lead. Soon they came to a spot where the ravine wall was overgrown with scrub and brush, the dark gleam of granite behind. The Ferals started snapping and whining, one scrabbling into the brush. Arn and Elise stepped forwards; Elise used her spear to dig and pull at the undergrowth. It came away, revealing a boulder, barring the path into anew gully.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The huntsmen of Dun Seren,\\\" Arn said to her, \\\"always with a trick or two when you think they're finished.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It won't save them,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"Their horses are gone, all of them are mounted upon the bear. How long can it carry them, wounded as it is?\\\"\\n\\nArn grunted his agreement.\\n\\n\\\"Morn,\\\" Fritha called, and the half-breed took to the air, winging over the boulder. Ina few heartbeats she was back.\\n\\n\\\"They went this way,\\\" Morn confirmed. \\\"Moved the boulder to block our path.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gunil,\\\" Fritha snapped.\\n\\nThe giant dismounted from Claw, gave a command as he put his shoulder to the boulder. His bear moved up alongside him, pushing into the boulder, dipping its neck and putting its weight against the rock.\\n\\nGiant and bear pushed together.\\n\\nNothing happened.\\n\\nVeins bulged in Gunil's neck, afresh bloom of blood appearing in the bandage about his shoulder. The bear shook, straining, its back legs scrabbling for purchase in loose stone.\\n\\nWith a grinding creak the boulder shifted, moved minutely.\\n\\nFritha ran to the rock, put her back against it, her acolytes following, Morn, too.\\n\\nThe boulder rolled free, up a gentle incline, then down a short slope, crushing shrubs and trees.\\n\\nAnew path opened before Fritha, this one leading down, twisting out of view in less than a hundred paces.\\n\\n\\\"On,\\\" she said, breaking into a run.\\n\\nA sound ahead, Fritha straining to hear over the pounding of blood in her head and the drum of feet around her. The new passage had bent and turned a downward path, opening up as they made their way into a valley between the mountains of the Bonefells. Somewhere ahead Fritha could hear the rush of water, which made other sounds difficult to distinguish, but there was something.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A shadow flitted across the ground: Morn, flying low.\\n\\n\\\"They are ahead, so close,\\\" the half-breed called down to her, turning a half-loop in the air, \\\"a quarter-league, no more.\\\"\\n\\nFritha picked up her pace.\\n\\nThe ground levelled, widening. Pine trees appeared, heavy with snow that gleamed bright in the low, sinking sun.\\n\\nNot much left of daylight. Must catch them now, I'll not stumble upon them in the dark and lose the advantage.\\n\\nAnother burst of speed, Ferals about her growling and snarling. Some were hanging back, unease appearing to pass amongst them. Fritha grunted a breathless encouragement to them.\\n\\nSoon, my children.\\n\\nBehind her she heard Claw rumble a growling protest, heard the rhythm of his stride falter, Gunil commanding the bear on.\\n\\nFatigue is affecting all of us.\\n\\nThe sound of a river grew closer, and then she saw them. A great bear, powering beneath high-boughed trees. It was limping, still moving at a staggering pace, but not the smooth rolling gait of a healthy beast. Figures were sitting upon it, one looked back, pale-faced and dark-haired, and saw her.\\n\\nDrem, it is so good to see you again. Perhaps I shall turn you into one of my Ferals, or let Gulla make a Revenant of you. If I can stop Morn from ripping your head from your shoulders, that is.\\n\\nShe grinned, her triumph so close she could almost taste it.\\n\\nThen she frowned and spat.\\n\\nWhat is that smell?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I can see them,\\\" Drem cried to Keld and Cullen, both men sitting in front of him upon the saddle on Hammer's back.\\n\\n\\\"Come on, Hammer,\\\" Drem breathed. But the bear was flagging beneath them, her strength fading. And there was something else, a hesitancy in her gait; she was casting her head about, taking in deep, snorting breaths.\\n\\nDrem looked around, saw only open-spread trees, the ground dense with a litter-bed of pine needles. They were deep into the Bonefells, now, but a region that Drem had never trapped in; Olin had always taken him north in the trapping season between spring and winter.\\n\\nAfoul smell hit the back of Drem's throat.\\n\\nHammer skidded to a halt, rearing and lowing. Keld, Cullen and Drem were thrown from the saddle. The soft spring of the needle litter that coated the frozen ground broke Drem's fall.\\n\\nHe climbed to his feet.\\n\\n\\\"What in the name of the Otherworld is that stench?\\\" Cullen spat.\\n\\nDrem looked about. Dimly through the trees behind them he saw the speeding approach of their pursuers, Ferals and men, behind them the silhouetted bulk of a giant bear.\\n\\nWe need to move.\\n\\nBut Hammer was standing, blowing great gouts of steaming breath. Another wave of the smell crawled into Drem's mouth, acrid and foul. They were in a wide clearing, dotted with a few thin-trunked trees, most of the snowstorm held at bay by the lattice of pine branches above them. The occasional snowflake drifted down. All around them were mounds. They were tall, not quite the height of a man, wide at the base and tapered. Some were gleaming with ice, frozen solid, but a few on the outskirts of the mounds were steaming. Drem walked close to one, saw something protruding from it, angular and sharp-edged. He looked closer, something shifting in his gut as he realized what it was.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A bone. A big one, that looks as if it belonged to an elk. This is the dunghill of a predator.\\n\\nCullen came and stood beside him, wrinkling his nose and prodding at the mound.\\n\\nI wouldn't do that, Drem thought.\\n\\nCullen's finger cracked the ice and a smell fouler than anything Drem had ever experienced, far worse than rotting meat or any tanner's chemical vat, escaped the mound and assaulted their senses, snaking into his mouth and nose like grasping fingers.\\n\\n\\\"Dear Elyon, no,\\\" Keld whispered. \\\"We have to get out of here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Drem asked.\\n\\n\\\"Draigs.\\\"\\n\\nDraigs!\\n\\nDrem had heard of the great beasts, and every trapper had spoken or dreamed of catching and skinning one, but they were a thing of legend, a mythical beast that only the hardiest of heroes could slay, like Maquin Oathkeeper, hailed as the greatest warrior that fought in the War of Wrath. Drem had never thought there was much truth in the tales, and certainly the last draigs he'd heard of had been hunted and slain a hundred years ago. Serpents on legs, some called them, most vicious and deadly of the Banished Lands predators, and that was quite a crown to hold.\\n\\n\\\"Come on,\\\" Keld said, dragging at Cullen's arm.\\n\\nA shadow flitted across them. Drem, looking up, saw a blur swooping above them, leathery wings spread wide.\\n\\n\\\"There's no time,\\\" Drem cried, pointing at the half-breed, then gazing back into the trees.\\n\\nFerals were surging towards them, a dozen at least, only a few hundred paces away, and behind them were Kadoshim acolytes, shaven-haired and grim-eyed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Keld shared a look with Drem and Cullen, gave a short nod.\\n\\n\\\"This is it, then. Let's see how many of these bastards we can take across the bridge of swords with us,\\\" he growled. \\\"With me.\\\" He ran to Hammer's side, unstrapping along linen bag, pulling a bow of ash from it, reaching inside a pocket fora bowstring. In heartbeats the bow was strung. With a hiss, Cullen's sword was in his fist and he was taking around shield from where it was hung upon Hammer's harness, the white, four-pointed star, sigil of the Order of the Bright Star, painted upon it. He slung it across his back, pulled the leather buckles tight, offered another shield to Drem.\\n\\n\\\"I've never used a shield,\\\" Drem said.\\n\\n\\\"I'll teach you when we get back to Dun Seren.\\\"\\n\\nWe both know that's not going to happen. Drem resisted the urge to say it out loud, knew that it would not be the most encouraging thing right now. Instead he put a hand to his neck, finding the reassuring beat of his pulse.\\n\\nKeld had laid out a handful of arrows on the ground before him. He crouched down, drew a knife across the palm of his hand and clenched a fist, blood welling between his fingers.\\n\\n\\\"Cnámha an domhain, tabhair dom do neart,\\\" he intoned, letting his blood drip upon the arrowheads.\\n\\nThe steel seemed to shimmer and ripple, and then Keld was standing, one of the arrows nocked. He drew and loosed, almost straight up. There was a shriek as the half-breed swerved, the arrow grazing her wing. She twisted in the air and rose, disappearing into the treetop canopy.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Keld didn't wait, had nocked and loosed at the pack of Ferals swarming towards them, only a hundred paces away now. His arrow pierced one's belly, punching out through the creature's back and hurtling on, slamming into another Feral's shoulder, hurling it against a tree, where the arrow sunk deep, almost up to its fletching, pinning the Feral.\\n\\nThat's impossible, Drem thought.\\n\\nThe first Feral, with a hole in its belly, stood and stared, then slumped to its knees.\\n\\nHammer growled beside them, huge claws raking the ground.\\n\\n\\\"Hold, lass,\\\" Cullen whispered to her.\\n\\nFifty paces away.\\n\\nDrem drew his seax and a hand-axe, thought about using his father's sword, but his seax felt comfortable in his hand, and the memory of his father's runes carved upon it helped to steady his beating heart.\\n\\nI would have liked to learn to use Da's sword. Maybe I will.\\n\\nIf I livelong enough.\\n\\nKeld drew and loosed, an arrow slamming into a Feral's shoulder and on out of its back, sending the creature crashing to the ground. It regained its feet and ran at them. Drem saw the one with an arrow-hole in its belly was back on its feet, staggering towards them.\\n\\nNot a comforting sight. They are hard to kill.\\n\\nTwenty paces.\\n\\nAnother arrow, this one finding the throat of an acolyte. He fell backwards in a spray of blood.\\n\\nKeld dropped the bow and drew his sword and axe, rolled his shoulders.\\n\\nCullen laughed.\\n\\n\\\"Stay close tome, lad,\\\" Cullen said to Drem as he set his feet.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I wish he'd stop calling me lad.\\n\\n\\\"Truth and Courage,\\\" Keld and Cullen bellowed, Hammer roaring, and the two warriors ran at the onrushing enemy. Drem stood a moment, hesitating, fear squirming in his belly. Drem was no coward but he knew this was likely to be the time and place of his death.\\n\\nI don't want to die.\\n\\nThen he saw Fritha, deep amidst her acolytes, and behind her the looming shape of a bear, a giant upon its back.\\n\\nMy father's murderers. Sig's killers.\\n\\nFear shifted to anger.\\n\\nBellowing a wordless cry, he ran after his comrades.\\n\\nKeld and Cullen crashed into the Ferals, a sword-swing from Cullen sending ahead twirling through the air, blood jetting from the severed stump. Keld was slicing and stabbing, ducking and spinning, constant motion, and then Drem was amidst it all. A Feral came at him, all red jaws and yellow fangs, and without thinking he knocked raking claws away with his axe and stabbed his seax into the man-beast's mouth, the point bursting out through the back of its neck, severing its spine. Blood erupted as Drem ripped his blade free, the Feral collapsing, twitching.\\n\\nA blow to his side, sending him reeling, a moment to register it was an acolyte that had fallen into him, a woman with hair shaved to her scalp, a deep wound in her thigh, from Keld or Cullen, he did not know. Drem hesitated, weapons raised, and she stabbed at him with a spear. He jumped back and she followed, favouring her wounded leg, short stabs at his chest and belly sending him reeling, one slicing along his side, cutting through fur and leather, grazing his ribs. He swung his axe wildly, connected with the shaft, hacking the spear-point off. The acolyte snarled and swung the spear like a staff, Drem ducking, chopping into her knee with his axe, stabbing up with his seax as she dropped, the blade punching into her belly, blood hot and sticky, gushing over his gloved fist, leaking under the sleeve of his wool tunic. He shoved the dying woman away, stood over her corpse, gasping deep breaths, looked for Fritha.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hammer roared, joining the fray, a sweep of her paw sending men and Ferals flying, one Feral impaled upon a tree branch. Another claw-swing sliced through an acolyte's belly, a slither of intestines falling about his feet. Screaming. Then the other bear was there, the giant upon its back, acolytes and Ferals leaping aside to allow it to get to Hammer.\\n\\nThe two bears met with a resounding thud, the ground shaking, teeth clashing, claws lacerating. Hammer crouched under a blow from the bear, swiping one paw up like a pugilist's upper-cut, claws raking across the other bear's neck, her jaws lunging, sinking into her adversary's head. A roar of pain from the creature.\\n\\nHammer's as fierce and battle-skilled as Sig.\\n\\nBut Sig wasn't upon Hammer's back.\\n\\nThe giant swung his war-hammer. With a sickening crunch it smashed into Hammer's shoulder and she released the bear's head to bellow her pain. She snapped at the giant, but he was swaying back out of reach, bringing his hammer high for another blow. His bear swiped at Hammer, sending her stumbling backwards, her leg giving way where the giant had struck her. She collapsed to the ground, crushing an acolyte in her fall, a great explosion of pine needles and forest litter.\\n\\nDrem tried to get to Hammer, slashed at an acolyte in his way, sliced a Feral across its hamstring, but there were too many between him and Sig's bear. He cast about wildly, hoping that Cullen or Keld would reach her, protect her.\\n\\nHe caught a glimpse of Keld, the huntsman beset by a handful of Ferals and acolytes. Even as Drem watched, he saw Keld draw his blade across his palm, hurling a fistful of his own blood at the swarming enemy before him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"What is he doing?\\n\\n\\\"Fola demo chorp, a bheith tine, sruthán mo naimhde,\\\" Keld bellowed, and as his blood splattered across faces and torsos it hissed and burst into tiny sparks of flame. Ferals and acolytes fell away screaming, the stench of scorched flesh filling the glade.\\n\\nKeld stood there, enemies writhing in agony about his feet, and then to Drem's horror he saw a Feral leap upon Keld from behind, both of them going down, the Feral's claws slashing, arcs of blood in the air. They rolled. As they stopped, the Feral was on top, rearing back with its misshapen jaws wide, claws rising. Keld lay still upon the ground.\\n\\n\\\"Keld!\\\" Drem yelled, trying to carve away to the huntsman, but there were too many between them.\\n\\n\\\"CULLEN!\\\" Drem bellowed. \\\"Keld is down.\\\"\\n\\nCullen was close, beset by five or six attackers, using his knife like a shield, his sword leaving bloody arcs. His eyes flickered to Drem, but then he was staggering, defending against a barrage of blows.\\n\\nA slate-grey blur caught Drem's eye, speeding through the melee: Fen the wolven-hound hurling himself at the Feral upon Keld, its claws held high, blood upon them. With a snarling howl, Fen slammed into the Feral, both of them rolling away, the wolven-hound on top, pinning the thrashing creature down, jaws finding the throat. A savage wrench and blood jetted, the Feral's feet drumming on the ground. Fen leaped back to the prone form of Keld, stood over him protectively, crouched, teeth bared in a bloody snarl.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The giant and his bear approached Hammer. She was trying to regain her feet, but the bear pounded her with a paw, Hammer's leg giving way again, sending her tumbling back to the ground. The bear stood over her, the giant upon its back hefting his war-hammer.\\n\\nDrem swept a sword away with his seax, chopped hard into the head of his attacker, denting the iron cap upon the acolyte's head, who collapsed bonelessly, then Drem charged, barrelled into a knot of acolytes pressing about Cullen, sending a handful of them flying, and saw open space between him and Hammer.\\n\\nThe giant upon his bear's back was raising his war-hammer.\\n\\nA hot pain across Drem's back and he was thrown forwards, onto his knees. He twisted, saw a Feral standing over him with blood dripping from its claws.\\n\\nWithout thinking, Drem twisted, kicking at the creature's ankles, saw it stumble, at the same time he was rising, stabbing with his seax, piercing the Feral's eye, its momentum as it fell driving the long knife deep until Drem felt the tip grate on the back of the beast's skull.\\n\\nHe shoved the twitching creature away, swivelled on his feet and threw his axe.\\n\\nIt struck the giant bear in the chest, sinking deep, the blade disappearing. The bear reared onto its back legs, roaring, the giant on its back thrown from his saddle, vanishing from sight. The bear crashed back to all fours, bellowed a challenge at Drem.\\n\\nI'm coming, Hammer.\\n\\nThere was a blow across Drem's back, a flare of pain lancing through the wound the Feral had just given him, a face full of pine needles as he stumbled and fell. Something was gripping his cloak, pulling him, lifting him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His feet left the ground and he was rising, above the battle, an aerial view showing the carnage painted in blood and gore.\\n\\n\\\"This is for my brother,\\\" a voice grated in his ear.\\n\\nDrem took a moment to register the strength that had lifted him high into the air. He squirmed, his cloak knotting in the half-breed's fist. Red-hot pain seared along his waist as a knife-thrust that had been intended for his kidneys scored a red line. Another twist and he was facing the half-breed, his face so close to hers he could smell her stale breath. Her eyes blazed their hatred at him and her fist drew back for another stab of her knife.\\n\\nDrem jerked with his seax, blocking the blade, and headbutted the half-breed across the bridge of her flat nose. Blood and cartilage burst, spattering his face, and the half-breed reeled back, wings sagging.\\n\\nHe headbutted her again, harder, saw her eyes rollback into her head, her wings folding, her grip upon his cloak going slack and he fell away from her, saw her begin a slow plummet back to the ground.\\n\\nThen he realized he was falling, too.\\n\\nA moment of weightlessness and panic as he spun his arms, saw the ground rushing up to him. He landed on Hammer, fur and flesh breaking his fall. She was trying to rise again, the other bear advancing on her, the giant nowhere to be seen.\\n\\nDrem rolled off Hammer, still gripping his seax. He shifted it to his left hand and, drawing his father's sword, set his feet between Hammer and the other bear.\\n\\nBlood sluiced down its chest, soaking its fur from Hammer's claw-gouges and Drem's axe, though the wounds had not gone deep enough, not reached any vital organ. It opened its jaws and roared at him, spittle flying, the power of it sending him staggering back apace.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He shook his head and set his feet again.\\n\\n\\\"Come on, then, death,\\\" he snarled at the bear, \\\"but I'll give you a scar or two to remember me by.\\\"\\n\\nTwo figures stepped around the bear: the giant, raising a hand and giving a command to the bear, and beside him, Fritha.\\n\\nSomething in Drem stirred at the sight of her, fair-haired, a scattering of freckles beneath the blue eyes that stared only at him. A memory of how she'd made him feel, before. A bearskin cloak was thrown back across her shoulders, dark-boiled leather armour covering her torso. She held a short-sword in her hand, dripping red.\\n\\nWhose blood is that? Which of my friends?\\n\\nHe saw the Starstone Sword scabbarded at her waist, had a vivid memory of how she had taken it, of kneeling beside his father in the snow, holding his da's hand as he coughed blood.\\n\\nHe took an involuntary step towards her, checked himself.\\n\\nFritha looked at his stance, sword held high, seax low.\\n\\n\\\"Scorpion's tail andiron gate combined,\\\" Fritha said with amusement. \\\"Your new friend's teaching you the sword dance?\\\" Drem said nothing. \\\"Come with me, I can teach you more than those blind idiots at the Order.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Step a little closer,\\\" Drem said, \\\"and I'll show you what they've taught me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I offered,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"Either way you're coming back with me; of your own will or in chains.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There's a third option,\\\" Drem said and lunged with his sword.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha swept Drem's lunge away, the calculating part of her mind noting how he overextended as he lunged, but at the same time she saw him check and adjust his balance, a natural shifting of his feet and legs that showed him to be a natural fighter, and she knew that in time he would make a skilled swordsman.\\n\\nIf he were given the chance to learn.\\n\\nShe was annoyed with herself. Why had she just offered him the chance of joining her, when he had already spurned her once? She'd had every intention of crushing him and dragging him back to Gulla as a prize. But there had been something in his eyes as she'd approached him, just fora moment. It had reminded her of the way he had looked at her once, all innocence and trust, that she had found so endearing and fascinating. Fora heartbeat it had taken her back to another time, the time before, when life was not all about the dark beating heart of revenge. That look in Drem's eyes had faded in a flash, though-if it had ever been thereat all-replaced by something all too well known to her.\\n\\nBlame and hatred.\\n\\nWho is he to judge me?\\n\\nShe strode at him, swayed as he chopped down at her with his sword, parried the stab of his seax and stepped in close, within his guard, elbowing him in the mouth and sending him reeling.\\n\\nShe paused a moment, pointed her short-sword at Drem's heart, then followed after him, saw the flicker of his eyes that betrayed his next move, caught his sword-strike on her blade, sparks grating as she rotated her wrist, cutting his forearm, and he cried out, dropping the sword. He swung at her with his seax, but she caught the blow easily, deflected it wide and countered, cutting a red line across Drem's chest. He stumbled backwards, tripped and fell. She kicked him in the gut, put a boot on his chest and levelled her sword at his throat.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Chains it is, then,\\\" she said.\\n\\nA deafening roar filled the woodland.\\n\\nFritha paused, looked up. She'd heard a lot of roaring this past day, mostly from giant bears, and that was loud enough to rattle her brain in her skull. But this sound was different. Not a bear. For one thing, it was louder, which didn't give her much comfort. There was also an edge to it that set the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.\\n\\nShe looked about the clearing. Everyone who was still standing within it was frozen, like her, searching for the origin of such a terrible sound.\\n\\nThen she saw it. A monstrous shape emerging from the shadows. It was huge, not quite as tall as Claw, but wider and longer. It was serpentine, reminiscent of the lizards Fritha had seen sunning themselves in the south, but a thousand times bigger, with green-brown mottled skin, like a snake's. Its belly was low to the ground, set upon four immensely powerful bowed legs, splayed feet with claws like the curved swords the Horse Clans of Arcona wielded. Along, wide tail swayed behind its bulk, but Fritha's eyes were drawn to its head. Abroad, flat skull, its muzzle long with a square-tipped jaw full of razored teeth that dripped with thick saliva or ichor. Its eyes were small and black, gleaming with a primal fury.\\n\\nIs that a draig?\\n\\nSpiders crawled down her spine.\\n\\nThe creature paused, surveying them all, petty intruders within its realm. It opened its vast jaws and roared again, trees and branches shaking, setting the ground to trembling, vibrations passing into Fritha's boots, up her legs.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then it charged.\\n\\nFor something so vast and squat it was incredibly fast, surging forwards on its muscular legs, scythe-like claws sending great gouts of snow and earth arcing into the air.\\n\\nFora timeless moment Fritha was frozen, fear and awe immobilizing her.\\n\\nDrem shifted beneath her, his arm knocking her boot off his chest, sending her stumbling away. He leaped to his feet, pushed her hard in the chest and she crashed to the ground, rolling in the pine needles.\\n\\nAnd then the draig was between them, a surging leviathan of muscle. It barrelled into a knot of Fritha's acolytes, sent them careening through the air, powerful jaws clamping upon one, a ripple of its sinuous neck muscles and her acolyte was severed in two, only his legs and hips remaining.\\n\\n\\\"TOME!\\\" Fritha yelled, staggering to her feet, unsure if anyone had heard her, her natural instinct to order the shield wall, but she'd commanded that all shields be left behind on this hunt through the wild, thought it was unnecessary weight that would have slowed them down.\\n\\nArn and Elise ran to her; a handful more joined them.\\n\\nThe draig's head snapped around, eyes fixing upon something. Fritha saw it was the wolven-hound that stood over the form of Drem's companion.\\n\\nThe huntsman of the group, that is how the Order of the Bright Star work: always a captain, a huntsman with wolven-hounds, and a few fresh warriors.\\n\\nThe huntsman was moving sluggishly, the wolven-hound crouched over him, snarling and snapping at the draig.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The draig clearly didn't like that challenge to its supremacy. It broke into its scuttling run, Fritha's acolytes frantically leaping aside as it charged. Fritha felt a jolt of shock when she saw that the wolven-hound did not bolt and flee like everything else in the draig's path. Instead it gathered its legs beneath it and burst into a run at the draig, not away. Bounding and leaping, the wolven-hound twisted in the air, avoiding the gaping mouth with snapping jaws by a hair's breadth, skidding along the draig's head, its claws raking from muzzle to skull, finding purchase, the wolven-hound's fangs sinking deep into the draig's neck. It hung there, back legs scrabbling, ripping bloody rents in the draig's scaly skin.\\n\\nThe draig bellowed, head whipping round, jaws snapping, trying to reach its assailant, tail lashing in its pain and rage, crushing the ribs of an acolyte unfortunate enough to be in its trajectory.\\n\\nA savage shake of the draig's body, and with a tearing and rending of flesh, the wolven-hound's fang's tore free from the draig's neck, the creature swiping a claw at the hound as it fell through the air, punching it flying, crunching into a tree. The crackle of breaking bones. The wolven-hound whined, fell to the ground and did not move.\\n\\nThe draig cast its head about for its next victim.\\n\\nAn ear-splitting roar and Claw was lumbering to attack. The two beasts came together like a thunderclap, the force of it knocking men and women from their feet. Bear and draig slashed, raked and bit atone another, their vast bulks heaving, straining, claws gouging bloody streaks through fur and scale and flesh, jaws seeking purchase, snapping, biting. Claw cried in pain, staggering back, blood leaking from a myriad of wounds, the draig mercilessly ploughing forwards, a strike of its claws across the bear's head sending it crashing to the ground.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Gunil bellowed a challenge and charged, his war-hammer swinging in a loop, crunching into the draig's ribs, the sound of splintering bone, a scream from the draig, its tail whipping at Gunil, sending him reeling, clutching his side.\\n\\n\\\"TOME, TOME!\\\" Fritha screamed over and over as she lurched into motion, knew that one by one the draig would defeat them all.\\n\\nAs she broke into a run her Ferals gathered about her, only a handful of them still living. Arn, Elise and a few others were already with her. Others, hearing her call, came stumbling and staggering as they approached the draig.\\n\\nClaw was back on his feet, growling, a heavy paw-strike lashing the draig's head. Gunil staggered back into the fray, swung his hammer, howling with the pain it caused him, and crunched it into one of the draig's clawed feet, pulping flesh.\\n\\nFritha barked a command and her Ferals swept forwards, some leaping onto the draig's flanks, clawing and biting, others slinking under the vast bulk of its belly, raking, teeth sinking into meat. Her acolytes spread wide, some with spears stabbing, drawing blood, others darting in with swords, slashing, stabbing, leaping away. Fritha sheathed her short-sword, drew the Starstone Sword and slashed with it, leaving a black, smoking line of charred flesh across the draig's flank.\\n\\nThe draig roared its frustration as Fritha and her crew worried at it like a wolven pack bringing down an elk. But it was not dead yet. A swipe of claws disembowelled a Feral. An adder-like dart of its head, and the draig snatched up an acolyte who had lingered too long to attack, eviscerating her with a shake of its powerful neck. Elise and Arn stabbed with spears, and it spun to face them, Arn leaping away from a swipe of its scythe-like claws, Elise stumbling, trying to protect herself with her spear, the draig smashing it to kindling, hurling Elise like a straw doll through the air.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And then a winged shape swooped from above: Morn, sword in her fist, alighting upon the draig's back, between its shoulder blades. She set her feet, raised her sword high and stabbed down, the blade sinking deep.\\n\\nThe draig bellowed in agony, reared up, Morn's wings beating, somehow managing to keep her balanced atop the writhing draig, and she twisted her sword ever deeper. Acolytes and Ferals rushed in at the creature's exposed belly, stabbing, slashing, Gunil and Claw pounding at the draig with powerful blows.\\n\\nWith one last roar, the draig toppled onto its side, claws lashing out, taking the head from another acolyte. Morn appeared upon it, wrenched her sword free, stabbed in a frenzy, arcs of blood. Fritha stepped in, set her feet and swung her sword, opening up a huge wound upon its belly, blood and intestines spilling out, a stench erupting, sending Fritha reeling.\\n\\nOne last shudder, a strangled growl, and the draig died.\\n\\nA sudden silence followed, punctuated by Fritha's ragged breaths, the groans of the injured, then Claw roared his victory.\\n\\n\\\"Fritha.\\\" A choking breath.\\n\\nShe cast about, saw Arn kneeling beside Elise, cradling her. Fritha ran to them, knelt beside her friends, saw tears in Arn's eyes.\\n\\nElise was deathly white, one arm shattered, her leg twisted in an unnatural angle, and bone protruding from her side, her ribs smashed. The acolyte coughed, speckles of blood stark and vivid on her too-pale chin.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Help her,\\\" Arn said.\\n\\nFritha checked Elise over, knew what Arn was asking of her.\\n\\nThe earth magic. Words of power.\\n\\nFritha looked into Arn's eyes. \\\"You know I am no adept, my knowledge is limited-\\\"\\n\\nHe grabbed her wrist. \\\"It's Elise. Just try. Help her, please.\\\"\\n\\nAlong breath sucked in.\\n\\nThen another thought broke through her worry for Elise.\\n\\nWhere's Drem?\\n\\n\\\"Staunch the bleeding and clean her wounds,\\\" Fritha said, standing. \\\"I will be back soon, will do what I can.\\\"\\n\\nShe looked about wildly, couldn't see him, saw that the Order's huntsman was no longer sprawled upon the ground.\\n\\nWhere's the bear?\\n\\n\\\"FIND THEM!\\\" she screamed, searching the glade, saw the dead scattered everywhere, the tall dunghill mounds, but no Drem, no bear, no warriors of the Order. Her Ferals loped away, but there were so many overpowering scents that they seemed confused, bounding off indifferent directions.\\n\\n\\\"This way,\\\" a voice cried from above. Morn was swooping through branches, heading away from the battleground, west.\\n\\nFritha followed, found that she was limping, a pain in her leg, and saw a gash through her leather breeks, blood leaking. She ignored it.\\n\\nThe roar of a river growing louder. A shape moving in the distance.\\n\\nSig's bear.\\n\\nShe used her last strength to reach the riverbank, a handful of acolytes running past her, flitting through the trees ahead.\\n\\nAn explosion of water, falling upon her acolytes like a wave, scattered them like leaves.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fifty paces and Fritha was with them, staring past them.\\n\\nA wide river roared and foamed, turbulent with snow and spinning broken sheets of ice, floating like icy rafts upon the waters. She saw the bear in the water, two people clinging to it, another lying sprawled upon one of the ice-sheets. Within heartbeats the river had sped them all around a bend, out of view.\\n\\nHer eyes searched for paths, saw that in a few hundred paces the shallow bank she was stood upon gave way to rearing granite cliffs. The only way to follow them was to leap into the river.\\n\\nFritha shrieked her frustration to the sky.\\n\\nSo close. I was so close. And I cannot return to Gulla empty-handed. My position is not so secure that failure will not damage it. There are many others willing and waiting to take my place.\\n\\n\\\"They have escaped us,\\\" Gunil said behind her.\\n\\nThat's not helpful. She resisted the urge to turnaround and stab the giant.\\n\\n\\\"For now,\\\" she muttered.\\n\\n\\\"Fritha,\\\" Gunil said to her. She tore her eyes away from the bend in the river where Drem had disappeared.\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" she snapped, looking over her shoulder to seethe giant looming over her. She had not heard his approach, which was worrying.\\n\\nBreathe. Focus. This is not over yet; there are many leagues between here and Dun Seren.\\n\\n\\\"You should see this,\\\" the giant said to her, and without waiting, turned and walked back into the woods. She noticed he favoured one leg, and his right arm was held tucked tight to his ribs. Her leg throbbed, and she paused to cut a strip of cloth from her cloak and tie it high, above the wound. She counted heads as she followed Gunil back to the clearing, was appalled at the result. Thirteen of her Ferals still standing, sixteen of her Red Right Hand, though she would be hard-pressed to find one unharmed from their battles.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Little more than a score left, when fifty of us set out after three men, a bear, a hound and a crow. She ground her teeth in anger.\\n\\nArn had carried Elise to the edge of the clearing, laid her down with the other injured where the healers amongst them were doing what they could.\\n\\nI will join them soon, do what I can.\\n\\nThe draig lay with the dead scattered about it. Fritha walked to it, ran a gloved finger along the line of its jaw, traced a curved fang.\\n\\nOh, how I wish we could have captured you, taken you back to Gulla in a cage. The creatures I could have fashioned from your flesh. But I need life to fashion life, not dead, butchered meat and congealed blood.\\n\\nSome of her men were already seeing to the butchering, skinning and finishing off the gutting of the dead beast, cutting claws from its feet, extracting teeth from its jaws.\\n\\nWe need these trophies, else no one would ever believe us.\\n\\nDeep wounds raked one side of the draig's head, puncture wounds a little further along on its neck, inflicted by the wolven-hound. Fritha remembered it standing over the Order's huntsman, protecting him, hurling itself at the draig.\\n\\nSuch fierce loyalty... She shook her head. I want that, need that.\\n\\n\\\"This way,\\\" Gunil said, leading Fritha on, past the dunghills, deeper into the trees. They dropped into a small gully, with banks rearing either side of them, thick with knotted tree-roots. Gunil paused at the entrance to a cave, tore a strip of linen from the tunic beneath his leather vest, wrapped it around the butt-end of his war-hammer and struck sparks with striking iron and flint.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Holding the makeshift torch aloft, he strode into the cave, revealing a tunnel that sloped gently downwards.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was tall and wide; Gunil did not need to duck his head. Fritha followed, the smell stale and unpleasant, but better than the dunghills. Torchlight flickered on uneven walls, thick ridges scoured into hard-packed earth, and Fritha realized they were made by draig-claws.\\n\\nThis was its den.\\n\\nA little further on and the tunnel opened into a wider chamber. Something crunched under Fritha's feet: bones, a carpet of them as thick as the pine needle litter above ground. Some smaller-badgers, foxes-others much larger, elk, what resembled a bear. She spied other shapes amidst the bones, occasionally a human skull. A ribcage here, spine there, another creature, a large skull with long canines. Fritha recognized the anatomy of a wolven; she'd carved enough of them up, fused them into something else. They strode on, towards a shadowy shape at the centre of the room.\\n\\nGunil and Fritha stood before it, Gunil raising his torch high. At first glance Fritha thought it was ahead, not yet fully decomposed, but as she stooped to see it better she saw it was too symmetrical, devoid of mouth, eyes, jaws. Roughly oval in shape, there were colours swirling across it, hues rippling, like inks spilt into water.\\n\\nFritha felt a smile spreading over her face, the sense of frustration and defeat that had settled upon her like a shroud suddenly lifted, evaporating.\\n\\n\\\"A draig's egg,\\\" she said into the darkness.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bleda sat on his horse, staring ahead at the warriors marching on foot in front of him. Threescore White-Wings, all polished leather and bright steel. Colossal trees reared high on either side of the narrow road, branches looping and latticing above them. He twisted in his saddle and looked back over his shoulder, saw another two score of the black-and-silver clothed warriors marching behind. Shadows flitted across him, shapes skimming along the road they were following and, looking up, he saw Ben-Elim circling high above, yet still beneath the canopy of Forn's great trees.\\n\\nHe drew in along, slow breath, mastering the emotions that were roiling within him: anger and fear, confusion and revulsion, as well as the fatigue and sense of sorrow that he'd noticed settled over him after a battle, the knowledge that lives had been snuffed out, men and women that he had talked with, eaten with-suddenly gone. It left a hollow place within him. And of course, there was Kol and the Ben-Elim.\\n\\nThey say we are pardoned, welcomed back into the arms of the Faithful, but I feel more like a prisoner being marched to my execution. And no one asked me if I wanted to be welcomed back.\\n\\nHe had sat outside the woodsman's hut when Riv had been hauled inside, as stunned as the rest of them by Aphra's revelation.\\n\\nRiv is Kol's daughter.\\n\\nObviously, he had known that one of the Ben-Elim washer father, but Kol! He did not know how he felt about that.\\n\\nBleda and the others had laid down their weapons. Bleda had no heart to fight on with Riv a prisoner, fearing what Kol might do to her, and he knew that continuing to fight was futile-they were too outnumbered-so he'd chosen to save the lives of his surviving bondsmen. Only three of his ten guards still lived, and Old Ellac, who seemed immortal. The dead had been buried beneath cairns back at the woodsman's hut, alongside over a dozen Ben-Elim and White-Wings.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Vald and Jost rode with Bleda, Ellac and his three men, which surprised Bleda a little. He'd thought they would be back marching with the White-Wings, especially as it was Aphra's hundred, the very unit that Vald and Jost had trained with all of their lives. To see them riding alongside his men was another reminder that so much had changed, that life was abruptly, unalterably, different, and he was clearly not the only one to feel that way.\\n\\nJost had a wide bandage wrapped around his head, dried blood crusting on it. He was swaying a little in his saddle, and not just because he was a poor rider; he was still concussed from the blow to his head, a clump from the butt-end of a Ben-Elim's spear that had bled for half a day.\\n\\nWhen Bleda had seen Kol stride into the woodsman's hut he had thought the end must be close, his hand finding the secret dagger hidden in his boot, though he hadn't really known what he was going to do with it.\\n\\nSave Riv, kill Kol, maybe. Or at least try. Or kill myself, rather than let Kol have the pleasure.\\n\\nI am surprised that any of us are still alive.\\n\\nIt had been along time later that Kol had emerged, and Bleda had been stunned to see Riv walking out into the glade with him. Riv had stood with her head down while Kol had made a speech about the time for bloodletting and vengeance being over, and as the new Lord Protector he wanted to build anew world of peace and harmony. He would start that right now, by forgiving and absolving Riv and her companions of any wrongdoing.\\n\\nBleda had almost fallen over with shock.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"While Kol spoke, Bleda had looked only at Riv, tried to catch her eye. He saw that she had a wound on her shoulder, freshly stitched, and that she was clenching her right hand into a fist, blood welling from between her fingers, dripping on the ground.\\n\\nWhen did that happen?\\n\\nOnly once had Riv looked at him, when Kol had been speaking of forgiveness and moving on together, and she had nodded at him, as if agreeing with Kol's words. And urging him to agree, also.\\n\\nWhat happened in that hut? How can she be going along with this? She was going to Drassil to kill Kol, and now she is making peace with him. Is it part of some plan, or is it because Kol is her father? Has that changed how she feels about him? He slew Dalmae, is a murderer.\\n\\nHe felt confused, angry, bewildered, and deeply worried for Riv.\\n\\nFeeling and recognizing all these emotions now, he had come to the strange realization that for the last moon or so, he had been... happy.\\n\\nDespite the shock of Kol's coup and the flight in the dead of night into the endless twilight of Forn, despite living in a woodsman's hut, shorn of the comfort and luxuries that being a prince, even if he was award of the Ben-Elim, had given him. It had been along time since he had felt able to relax his cold-face, to allow his feelings to emerge from the depths where he kept them so well controlled and hidden. And he knew there was a reason for that.\\n\\nRiv.\\n\\nSomehow, she had managed to pick, chip and bore a hole through his guard, fracturing his protective shield. He felt as if he had stepped out from a dark place into the light of the sun.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And now it was over, his cold-face shifting back into place, but beneath it emotions boiled, foremost of all worry for his friend.\\n\\nWhere is Riv?\\n\\nHe searched the skies, looked front and back again, but could not see her.\\n\\nAnd now they were going back to Drassil, five or six days'travel through Forn before they would seethe giant walls of the Banished Lands\\\" greatest fortress. It was not a sight that Bleda was looking forward to.\\n\\nA horn blast rang out. Aphra was standing at the head of their column, a fist raised, the signal to make camp for the night. They rippled to a halt and then two winged shapes flew over Bleda and his companions: Kol and Riv. They alighted in a swirl of leaves beside Aphra.\\n\\nRiv did not so much as glance at Bleda or her friends.\\n\\nDarkness, as thick and dense as a wall, loomed about Bleda. He was sitting beside afire with Ellac, as well as his three guards: a man named Tuld, taller than was common amongst the Sirak, and two women, Ruga and Mirim, sisters whom Bleda struggled to tell apart. All had injuries from the fight at the hut, but most of them were superficial, only Mirim having a deeper wound in her thigh. Ruga was checking on it now, cleaning it with boiled water that had been left to cool. All three of them were shaven-haired, apart from the long braids that marked them as Sirak warriors.\\n\\nBleda was tending to his bow, fora moment lost in the memory of its making, so long ago; his brother had helped him craft the weapon. It was one of his most treasured memories, recalling a time when the world seemed stable and solid, and also exciting, with so much promise for his future, and he had been sure of his place within it. He remembered his brother's voice, teaching him to sand the sturgeon glue with rough sharkskin, his brother's arm around his shoulders, the both of them laughing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But now he is dead.\\n\\nNow, all was influx.\\n\\nHe could not just go back to Drassil and resume the life he had been leading; it felt impossible. His eyes searched out Kol, sitting at a campfire with a handful of his Ben-Elim and some of Aphra's White-Wings. Kol was drinking from a skin, laughing.\\n\\nHe is king, now, the Lord Protector of the Banished Lands. The man who slew my brother and sister, and shamed my mother. He has slain Israfil, slain Riv's kin, and yet he sits there drinking and laughing.\\n\\n\\\"What do you think has happened to the rest of my honour guard?\\\" Bleda asked.\\n\\nEllac had led one hundred Sirak warriors from Arcona to Drassil as Bleda's personal honour guard, and only ten of them had been about him on the chaotic night that he had saved Riv from the madness of Kol's coup. It was those ten warriors who had accompanied him into Forn Forest, and now seven of them were dead.\\n\\nYour sacrifice will not be forgotten.\\n\\n\\\"Who can say what Kol has done with them?\\\" Ellac shrugged.\\n\\nBleda felt a dark mood settling upon him, struggled to stop it from showing. He mourned the loss of his guards, felt the weight of responsibility for their deaths.\\n\\n\\\"Ellac, Ruga, Tuld, Mirim,\\\" he said, and they all looked at him.\\n\\n\\\"My thanks,\\\" Bleda said.\\n\\n\\\"For what?\\\" Ruga asked, frowning.\\n\\n\\\"For keeping your oaths, for standing with me.\\\"\\n\\nEllac snorted. The other three were looking at Bleda with quizzical looks.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You are our prince, and we are oathsworn to you,\\\" Tuld said, as if that explained everything.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, and Erdene would take our right hands if we failed you,\\\" Ruga said, a fleeting smile wrinkling her cold-face.\\n\\nShe probably would.\\n\\n\\\"You are brave and loyal,\\\" Bleda said, \\\"and I will not forget it.\\\"\\n\\nFootsteps. Bleda, looking up, fire-blind fora moment, saw two forms approaching, both tall, one thin, one broad.\\n\\n\\\"Mind if we join you?\\\" Vald said.\\n\\nBleda looked up at them. \\\"Of course not,\\\" he said, shuffling to make room for them around the fire.\\n\\n\\\"Why are you not with your people?\\\" Ellac asked.\\n\\n\\\"Doesn't feel right,\\\" Jost said. \\\"We've been trained as White-Wings, but today was the first real battle we've seen, fought in, and we stood with you, not them. You stood with us, against them. That should mean something, not be forgotten.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kol your Lord Protector said that enmity was all behind us,\\\" Ellac said. Bleda saw he was staring keenly at the two young men.\\n\\n\\\"A world of difference between saying something and it being real,\\\" Vald muttered.\\n\\n\\\"There is,\\\" Ellac said flatly.\\n\\nA shifting in the air, an unseen wind, and then dark shapes were descending, solid shadows dropping out of the night, taking form.\\n\\nKol, a few Ben-Elim with him, and Riv. Bleda felt a lurch in his chest at the sight of her. They alighted at the edge of Bleda's firelight, shadow and flame casting them in hues of red and black.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv stood a step behind Kol, her eyes taking in Vald and Jost with Bleda and his guard, meeting Bleda's gaze fora lingering moment, then looking away.\\n\\n\\\"A token to prove that I mean what I say,\\\" Kol said. He gestured a hand, and one of the Ben-Elim stepped forwards, carrying a heavy bundle in his arms, wrapped in a wool cloak. He dropped it on the ground before Bleda, and weapons spilt out-the curved swords of the Sirak, knives, quivers of arrows, spears. Vald and Jost's short-swords were there, too. The weapons that had been confiscated after the fight at the cabin.\\n\\n\\\"Take them back, wear them freely,\\\" Kol said. \\\"A sign both of my forgiveness for your past deeds, and of the trust I am giving you, for the future.\\\" His eyes flitted to Riv, then back to Bleda and his companions.\\n\\nIs this for Riv's benefit? I do not trust him.\\n\\nNevertheless, Bleda stepped forwards and picked out his quiver and arrows, his weapons-belt with scabbarded sword and knife, and slung them over his shoulder. The others followed Bleda's lead, apart from Mirim, who sat with her wounded leg stretched out straight before her.\\n\\n\\\"My thanks,\\\" Bleda said. Six years living and surviving amongst the Ben-Elim at Drassil had taught him to keep his emotions closely guarded, and always to be polite, never to give cause for offence or to betray his thoughts.\\n\\nEllac sat and silently drew his sword, lay it across his lap and, fetching whetstone, scouring pad and oil from his belt pouch, set to cleaning black patches from his blade, the blood of Ben-Elim, no doubt. Ruga and Tuld did the same, Ruga passing sword and quiver to Mirim.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Kol watched in silence, firelight shining red in his eyes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When the weapons had all been reclaimed he nodded, looked at Bleda.\\n\\n\\\"Remember the kindness I am showing you, and the faith I am putting in you,\\\" the Ben-Elim said.\\n\\n\\\"I will,\\\" Bleda said.\\n\\nI will remember this, and all else that you have done.\\n\\n\\\"I will, Lord Protector,\\\" Kol said.\\n\\nA moment's silence, stretching. Bleda felt his companions\\\" eyes on him.\\n\\n\\\"I will, Lord Protector,\\\" Bleda said quietly.\\n\\n\\\"I like the sound of that.\\\" Kol grinned and leaped into the air, white wings snapping wide, his guard following. Riv paused, knees bent. Her wings beat, lifting her.\\n\\n\\\"Riv,\\\" Bleda called out, and she hovered, looking down at him.\\n\\nHe just stared at her, felt his cold-face slip as he gazed into her eyes, so many things that he wanted to say, questions to ask.\\n\\nRiv must have read them upon his face, but she did not land and talk to him, as he'd hoped. She looked down at him, her expression shifting. Grief, sorrow, shame, anger-always anger with Riv-all finally washed away by some kind of stony resolve that was not too different from Bleda's own cold-face.\\n\\n\\\"It is for the greater good,\\\" she said, and then with a pulse of her wings she disappeared into the darkness.\\n\\nBleda sat with the others, a subdued silence settling over them all, just the rasp of whetstones and crackle of fire as they tended to their weapons.\\n\\nAll except Ellac were sleeping when Bleda unrolled his sleeping blanket and lay down upon it. The old warrior was sitting and gazing into the fire like some oak-carved statue.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What is it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bleda said to him, leaning upon an elbow.\\n\\nDoes he think me weak, for not standing up to Kol, for calling him lord?\\n\\nEllac looked at him, but said nothing, then looked back to the fire. With a sigh, Bleda lay down, rolling over with his back to Ellac. Sleep took along time to come, despite the soporific crackle and pop of the fire as it slowly faded. He reached inside his cloak, found what he was looking for and pulled it out carefully, opening his palm in the dying fire-glow.\\n\\nA large feather, dapple grey, and, folded within it, a purple flower of mountain thyme. He lay there looking at it, thinking, until sleep claimed him.\\n\\nDrassil was ahead of them; tall and foreboding, banners snapping in the breeze from towers and walls, the silhouettes of Ben-Elim circling lazily above it. Six days of riding it had taken them to reach the ancient fortress, and Bleda felt his breath coming faster, a tension in his shoulders as he rode through the huge field of cairns that spread across the plain before the western gates.\\n\\nKol ordered horns blown as they crossed the field of cairns, and horn blasts echoed out from the gate tower in response.\\n\\nAll cannot go back to how it was-it must not. The world is changing.\\n\\n\\\"My mother must know of what is happening here,\\\" he whispered to Ellac, leaning close to the old warrior, who was riding beside him.\\n\\nEllac looked at him, his heavy-lidded eyes unreadable, though Bleda had the distinct impression that Bleda was appraising him.\\n\\n\\\"I sent word to her the day we took Riv from Drassil,\\\" Ellac said. \\\"My Prince,\\\" he added.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2295,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 16"},{"from":"human","value":"\"What is it?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bleda said to him, leaning upon an elbow.\n\nDoes he think me weak, for not standing up to Kol, for calling him lord?\n\nEllac looked at him, but said nothing, then looked back to the fire. With a sigh, Bleda lay down, rolling over with his back to Ellac. Sleep took along time to come, despite the soporific crackle and pop of the fire as it slowly faded. He reached inside his cloak, found what he was looking for and pulled it out carefully, opening his palm in the dying fire-glow.\n\nA large feather, dapple grey, and, folded within it, a purple flower of mountain thyme. He lay there looking at it, thinking, until sleep claimed him.\n\nDrassil was ahead of them; tall and foreboding, banners snapping in the breeze from towers and walls, the silhouettes of Ben-Elim circling lazily above it. Six days of riding it had taken them to reach the ancient fortress, and Bleda felt his breath coming faster, a tension in his shoulders as he rode through the huge field of cairns that spread across the plain before the western gates.\n\nKol ordered horns blown as they crossed the field of cairns, and horn blasts echoed out from the gate tower in response.\n\nAll cannot go back to how it was-it must not. The world is changing.\n\n\"My mother must know of what is happening here,\" he whispered to Ellac, leaning close to the old warrior, who was riding beside him.\n\nEllac looked at him, his heavy-lidded eyes unreadable, though Bleda had the distinct impression that Bleda was appraising him.\n\n\"I sent word to her the day we took Riv from Drassil,\" Ellac said. \"My Prince,\" he added."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Over a moon ago, closer to two. Then word should have reached her in Arcona by now, or soon will. Did Ellac do it to help me, or report on me? Is he my mother's spy?\n\n\"Good,\" he said to Ellac.\n\nWith a heavy creak and grinding, Drassil's gates opened. Kol and some of his Ben-Elim flew over the gatehouse, more horns echoing out from the vast walls. Aphra led her White-Wings marching through the gate tunnel. Bleda followed, the clip of his horse's hooves echoing on the stone, and then they were in the courtyard, a small host arrayed to greet them: Ben-Elim and White-Wings, all manner of stablehands and servants. And then Bleda saw others, dark-skinned warriors with shaved heads and long warrior braids, fora moment thought they were the remnants of his warrior-guard that had not accompanied him into Forn Forest. But then he saw their deel tunics were blue, not grey, and realized that they were of the Cheren Clan, not the Sirak.\n\nAnd he saw a young woman standing at their head, dark-haired, straight-backed and strong-shouldered, her features fine and sharp.\n\nJin.\n\nA weight like a lead ball fell in the pit of Bleda's stomach as he remembered.\n\nI have not thought of her for over a moon.\n\nJin strode forwards, two of her warrior-guard at her shoulder. She stopped before Bleda, looked up at him as he dismounted.\n\n\"Welcome back to Drassil, my betrothed,\" she said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Drem clamped his jaws together, trying to stop them from chattering as he knelt on the forest floor and peered through a carefully manufactured screen of pine branches and shrubs. After crawling from the freezing grasp of the river, he had shivered involuntarily fora whole day and night. Even now, another day on from that, he had to fight the occasional spasm that rippled through his jaws. Cold had seeped into him, deep as his bones, and did not want to relinquish its hold.\n\nThey had spent close to a whole day and night in the grip of the river, sheer granite cliffs rising either side of them, Drem lying upon a thick-slabbed sheet of ice, Cullen and Keld upon Hammer's back as she swam at first, and then spent her energy on trying to stay afloat. Cullen had managed to tie Keld to the huge saddle across Hammer's back and then cast a rope to Drem, who had tied it about the hilt of his seax and stabbed it deep into the ice raft he'd been clinging to, so that they would not become separated through the dark of night.\n\nIt had felt like the longest night of Drem's life, too terrified of rolling off his makeshift raft or losing his friends to sleep. He had been sure that death was only ever a handful of heartbeats away.\n\nWhen dawn had spread its pale glow across the river, he'd seen that the cliffs had given way to steep-sided slopes of shingle and pine, and as the day had worn on eventually shallow riverbanks appeared. Hammer paddled her way towards dry land, forging across the white-foamed current. The bear had crawled and scraped her bulk out of the river, then stumbled and limped to the granite boulder she was still slumped against now. Cullen had dragged Drem in by the rope and together they had cut Keld from Hammer's back and laid him out on the ground. He'd been unconscious and had remained more or less in the same state since then. Drem and Cullen had immediately set about making afire and shelter, both knowing the cold was likely to kill them far faster than any pursuit from Ferals and half-breed Kadoshim. They had stripped their clothes, Cullen chopping bundles of coppiced willow branches while Drem had shivered and shaken his way through, dragging out spare cloaks and hide blankets that had been bundled into Hammer's saddlebags and stitching them together. Even half-frozen, fingers, toes and lips turning blue, it had not taken them long to fashion a hide shelter and scrape afire-pit, banked with stones from the riverbed and lit with wood from a dead pine tree."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"After a stuttered, shivering conference, both Drem and Cullen had been confident that the river had carried them so far and fast that, unless their enemy built rafts and followed them down the river, there was at least three days' safety between them and their pursuers.\n\nApart from the half-breed.\n\nMustn't make a sound now. He put a hand to his jaw and physically clamped it shut, his eyes scanning the surrounding woodland through his latticed hide, looking up to search the treetop canopy.\n\nWhere is she?\n\nCullen was crouching in another hide in the shadows of a stand of pine, not more than thirty paces away from Drem. The sound of the river was a constant background roar in Drem's ears, unhelpfully masking other sounds. They were too close to the riverbank where Hammer had dragged them ashore. Drem could seethe bulk of the bear through the trees, a deeper darkness beyond the rough tent he and Cullen had built and where Keld still lay. Hammer was slumped beneath the shadow of a granite boulder. If there was any trouble Drem doubted the bear would be any help, she had hardly moved since she had staggered from the river.\n\nHammer's done enough for us.\n\nA rustling in the trees above and Drem shifted, quickly and quietly, tightening his grip on a rough javelin he'd carved.\n\nA wood pigeon, that was all.\n\nCullen said he saw her, the half-breed, flying along the river.\n\nMaybe she won't come this way.\n\nBut Drem was sure that she would. He remembered her voice in his ear, the look of hatred.\n\nThis is for my brother, she had said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Don't think she's the type to give up.\n\nHe stared at the path that led through the trees to the river. If the half-breed had led Fritha and her acolytes here, if they'd built rafts and floated down the river, then that path was the only approach to their makeshift camp.\n\nLot of'ifs\" there.\n\nA twig cracked, drawing Drem's eyes. A shadow in the darkness, solidifying into a figure. Squat, muscular, carrying a spear, wings arching over its back.\n\nDrem felt his heartbeat quicken. He'd satin hides a thousand times, hunting elk and other beasts, and never felt the worry of it.\n\nHunting half-breed Kadoshim is different, though.\n\nHis hand reached to his neck, found the comforting beat of his pulse.\n\nThe half-breed trod carefully through the pines. Boughs hung low over her head.\n\nHarder for her to fly here. That's in our favour.\n\nDrem focused on breathing long and slow, resisting the urge to burst from his hide and hurl his javelin.\n\nWait. It's all about the timing, my da used to say.\n\nShe was close, now, fifty paces, her head swivelling, searching the gloom. Close enough for Drem to seethe purpling bruising across her flat nose and eyes, from where he'd headbutted her.\n\nGood. Though I came off worse in that meeting. The knife-cut along his waist burned with every movement.\n\nDrem could seethe fabric of her wool tunic, taut and stretched over the musculature of her arms, a thick neck above her leather, fur-trimmed vest."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then she saw their tent, the patchwork of loosely stitched cloaks and blankets. The half-breed froze for long moments, staring at it, scanning the woodland around it.\n\nTake the bait.\n\nShe took a step towards the tent, then another, and another, her spear-point coming down, levelled in front of her.\n\nDrem shifted the grip on his javelin, slow and steady.\n\nJust like hunting. Wait for the moment, then stand and throw. One move.\n\nThe half-breed was a dozen paces from their makeshift camp, and by now she must be able to seethe shadowed outline of a figure inside the tent, a bulge pressed up against the fabric. Little did she know that it was a branch wrapped in a cloak. Drem remembered the rush of pride he'd felt at Cullen's praise for this trap. The bait, the lure, the hides, all Drem's idea, drawn from his hunting skills. It had just been obvious to him, what he thought anyone would have thought of.\n\nNevertheless, Cullen had been impressed and, as Drem was finding out about the red-haired warrior, he had not been reticent about verbalizing how he felt.\n\nFive paces from the tent, the half-breed started to raise her spear, preparing fora stab at the shape in the fabric.\n\nWhen she lunges is the moment. A few more paces and she'll be perfectly placed for both of us. Almost there.\n\nAnd then with an explosion of undergrowth Cullen burst from his hide and hurled his javelin.\n\nNo!\n\nThe half-breed leaped, no frozen moment, no fight-or-flight hesitation from her, just instant kinetic motion. Upwards, a short beat of her wings giving her extra height, her head brushing the canopy above her, where she hovered as Cullen's javelin hissed harmlessly beneath her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Cullen was already running at her, his sword grating from its scabbard.\n\nThe half-breed drew back her spear-arm.\n\nHe's too faraway, she's going to skewer him like a charging boar.\n\nDrem crashed out of his hide, to the half-breed's left, making far more noise than he ever had before. Intentionally.\n\nHer head turned towards him, a snarl twisting her features as she recognized him. Her wings moved, shifting her in the air, and in a heartbeat her spear was hurtling at him instead of Cullen, the half-breed bursting into flight behind it, straight at him.\n\nDrem dived to his right. The forest litter was thick and spongy with fallen pine needles, the spring in it helping him to roll to his knees as the half-breed's spear slammed into a tree trunk that had been immediately behind him.\n\nDrem hurled his javelin, the half-breed throwing herself to the side, swerving but not breaking her flying charge at him. Drem's weapon pierced a leathery wing but passed through it with no apparent effect, other than a small tattered hole in the wing.\n\nDrem grabbed for the hilt of his seax, and then she was slamming into him, her shoulder punching into his belly, lifting him bodily from the ground, both of them flying through the air. Drem crunched into a tree, stars exploding in his vision, air expelled from his lungs, hot lines of pain opening up across his back as the claw wounds from the Feral burst open. The half-breed wrapped a fist around his throat, holding him upright, squeezing.\n\nDrem's vision swam, his hand fumbling for his seax, finding the bone hilt, drawing and slashing in the same move, cutting across the half-breed's vest, slicing through leather and the fur lining beneath, through the linen under-tunic, and into flesh."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The half-breed flung herself backwards, a grunt of pain, along diagonal line welling blood across her chest.\n\nA whistle of air and she was ducking, turning as Cullen's sword slashed through air, grazing her wing.\n\nShe reeled away, backhanded Cullen in the mouth, sending him staggering to one knee, and she stepped forwards, punched him in the temple, knocked him sprawling to the ground.\n\nDrem pushed away from the tree and slashed at her again, drawing red across her back, cut the base where one wing met her back muscle. She cried out, stumbling forwards, regained her balance and ran, wings snapping wide; a beat, and she was lifting from the ground.\n\nDrem chased after her.\n\nThe half-breed rose, swaying in the air, lost altitude, her feet grazing the ground, still running, wings trying to lift her again.\n\nI've damaged her wing.\n\nDrem increased his speed. He was tall, muscular and strong, but he had long legs and was unusually fast for someone so heavy. He gained on the wounded half-breed. She flew low to the ground, hindered by the low branches of the pine trees. Drem's legs and arms pumping, drawing closer, thirty paces behind her, twenty, ten. And then she burst out from the trees into open air, the river wide and foaming white, shingle slopes rising on the river's far side.\n\nDrem exploded from the trees onto a grassy verge, sloping down to the silt and reeds of the riverbank.\n\nThe half-breed was rising, swaying erratically in the air, lurching towards the river. Drem skidded to a halt, breathing great blasts of mist into the cold air as he watched the half-breed fly ever higher into the grey sky, hoping that her injured wing would fail her and she would plummet back down to the ground."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She flew beyond the bank, out over the river.\n\nFootsteps drumming behind him and Cullen staggered out from the trees, ran on past Drem, down the slope towards the river. Drem saw Cullen's hand fumble at his belt, unclipping a folded net, a lead-weighted ball stitched to each corner. The half-breed was at least twenty paces out and up from him as Cullen reached the water's edge. She saw the warrior, gave him a hate-filled snarl, then saw him raise the net over his head, swinging it in looping circles, the lead balls humming through the air.\n\nThe half-breed's expression changed, a twisted flash of fear and she turned in the air, wings beating harder, a grunt of pain.\n\nCullen threw the net.\n\nIt whistled through the air, rising up, fast and high, reached the apex of its flight and the net opened, lead balls spreading, dragging it down, folding perfectly around the half-breed, the weights spinning around an ankle, a wrist, snaring her wings. She struggled fora weightless moment, then with a despairing cry she tumbled from the air, crashed into the river in an explosion of crystal-cold foam.\n\nThe creature disappeared, submerged. Drem, staring, saw her come up twenty or thirty paces downriver, carried by the fast-flowing current. She bobbed on the water, trussed and struggling.\n\nCullen strode into the water, but almost immediately it rose too deep. Drem ran to his side, splashing into the icy-cold.\n\nThe half-breed was carried along, sinking and rising, spluttering and gasping, bound tight in the net's grip, and then she was gone, the river sweeping her around a bend."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Cullen looked at Drem, blood dripping from his lip; he cuffed away more from a cut above his eye.\n\n\"Hope the bitch drowns,\" Cullen said, and spat blood into the water."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha looked up through a mesh of branches at the purpling sky, the sun a red line across the western peaks of the Bonefells as day relinquished its grip upon the world.\n\nWhere is Morn?\n\nIt was the third day since Fritha had fought the draig, since Drem and his companions had escaped her by leaping into a river.\n\nSince Gunil found my egg.\n\nA shiver of excitement at that thought, banishing fora few moments her unease about Morn's absence and her vexation at Drem's escape. It was quick to return.\n\nShe should be back by now. I warned her only to scout. To find Drem and then return tome, so that she could lead me to them. I thought Morn had learned her lesson, understood that she would not achieve her revenge alone, without my help.\n\n\"What should I do?\" she whispered to herself. \"Stay and wait for Morn?\"\n\nBut everyday here is a day behind Drem, or a day away from the cause. Should I continue my pursuit of Drem?\n\nShe swore at the first stars that winked into life, then turned on her heel and marched back to her camp. Her leg ached, a wound across her thigh; ragged rather than a neat cut, it was most likely from the draig's claws.\n\nArn had cleaned and stitched it for her. A stab of worry at the thought of him, knowing he was sat at vigil with Elise. Fritha quickened her pace. She felt the presence of a Feral close by, loping in the darkness.\n\nAh, my babies are protective of me. The thought gave her a warm feeling.\n\nThey had buried their dead and then moved a short way from the draig lair, carrying their injured far enough to escape the hideous stench of the draig dung. Fritha walked through the sentry line, glimpsed one of her people standing guard, his shadow merged with a tree. Deeper within the boundary of their camp, Fritha saw the outline of Gunil in the gloom, standing with the shadowed bulk that was Claw. He was tending to the bear's wounds. Fritha wasn't sure the animal would survive-some of its injuries were leaking pus and starting to smell bad."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It will be a grievous loss to the cause, if it dies, she thought. She shrugged and moved on, towards a flicker of flame.\n\nThey'd dug afire-pit, a dozen men and women ringed around it, hands warming on bowls of broth, their breath a mist in the air.\n\nA crude hide tent had been erected close to the fire-pit. Fritha nodded a greeting to those around the fire, then stepped into the tent.\n\nShe saw Arn kneeling beside a prone form, his dark hair shaved short, his silvering beard neat and braided, as always. He looked up at her as she entered, his eyes pleading.\n\n\"Any change?\" Fritha asked him. She received a curt shake of his head in answer as she joined him and knelt beside Elise.\n\n\"Help her,\" Arn said.\n\n\"I have tried,\" Fritha muttered, feeling a twist of emotions in her belly. Fear, that she would lose her friend-and they were few and far between. Shame, that she was not skilled enough to work a healing; and annoyance, at Arn, at Elise, at herself, that this should bring her lack of ability so unpleasantly to light.\n\nShe stroked Elise's cheek, slick with sweat, remembering the time Arn and Elise had cared for her, when they had found her slumped on the blood-soaked ground, her dead baby in her lap.\n\nI owe her.\n\nFritha began methodically checking over Elise's wounds. Her ribs had been manipulated back into position and a collection of broken bones had been splinted where possible-right arm broken above the elbow, both of her legs broken in multiple places.\n\nShattered is a more appropriate word. Even if I save her, I do not know if she will ever be able to walk again."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But it was the internal injuries that worried Fritha most. Elise was coughing blood and her breath was shallow and erratic. Probably from when the draig had struck her in the chest with its tail, snapping ribs and bruising her lungs. There were a number of other possibilities, all of them worse. Internal bleeding highest on the list.\n\n\"Look what you are capable of doing, what you have accomplished so far,\" Arn whispered. \"The Ferals, Gulla, Revenants...\" He stared at her, dark eyes desperate.\n\n\"I will try again,\" Fritha murmured.\n\nShe unlaced a leather vambrace from her forearm, pulled the wool tunic back to bare her arm, and drew a knife from her belt. The blade hovered over her pale flesh and she closed her eyes...\n\nShe remembered a woman's face, severe, hard lines and scars. Afresh cut along one cheek, blood scabbing. A warrior, an empty scabbard at her hip, an iron cloak-brooch fashioned in the shape of a four-pointed star. She was sitting against a tree, chained to it, her hands bound in her lap. Fritha had stood before her.\n\n\"Tell me your secrets,\" Fritha had said.\n\nThe woman had just returned her gaze, strength and defiance in her eyes.\n\n\"You will tell me everything,\" Fritha had said, drawing a knife.\n\nThe same knife she held now.\n\n\"Fola agus focail chumhachta, ceangail an fheoil seo, leigheas an cnámh seo,\" Fritha breathed now as she drew the knife across her forearm, blood welling in a dark line. \"Fola agus focail chumhachta, ceangail an fheoil seo, leigheas an cnámh seo,\" she repeated as she turned her arm and held it over Elise, raising her elbow so that the blood trickled down to her hand, gathering into a droplet on one fingertip, fat and heavy, and dripping into Elise's mouth, another drop on her lips, another, and another as Fritha breathed the words over and over. A sharp wind blew into the tent, swirled around them, sounding like whispered voices."},{"from":"human","value":"Elise sucked in a deep breath, her back arching, eyes bulging, and then along, stuttered sigh, her body relaxing."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Her breath seemed a little stronger, a little steadier.\n\nArn grabbed Fritha's hand.\n\n\"Thank you,\" he said.\n\nFritha gave him a wan smile.\n\n\"It has helped, but I am not a healer,\" she said. \"I wish now that I had questioned the Bright Star warrior more, and for longer. As it was, to learn this much I put her to the question for three days. But I was focused on other matters. I wanted to create things. But healing...\" She shrugged. \"Let us see how she responds to this.\"\n\n\"She will be well. I know she will,\" Arn said, stroking his daughter's brow. He looked up at Fritha. \"What is your plan?\"\n\n\"I am torn,\" Fritha said. \"Drem and the others could be leagues away by now, so we may never catch them.\"\n\n\"And is there any point, now?\" Arn asked. \"The goal was to catch them quickly, before they could send word to Dun Seren.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Fritha grunted.\n\n\"Their crow, it was not with them,\" Arn said.\n\n\"I know,\" Fritha snapped. \"Which means they've most likely sent it ahead of them, to warn that bitch, Byrne.\"\n\n\"We should go back to Gulla, then,\" Arn said.\n\nNot a pleasant prospect. He doesn't react well to failure. I do have the draig egg, though...\n\n\"There are reasons to continue our pursuit,\" Fritha said quietly. \"Drem shouted a name during the fight, before the draig appeared.\"\n\n\"I heard,\" Arn said. \"Cullen.\"\n\n\"Aye. Who would have thought that cocky child was Corban's descendant? A prize indeed, if we took him prisoner.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Arn shrugged. \"If we can find them again, if we can catch up with them, if we can take him alive. A lot of ifs.\"\n\nYes, but the glory and honour of returning with Corban's descendant. It would be worth the risk.\n\n\"And the huntsman,\" Fritha continued. \"Did you hear him speaking the Old Tongue, using the earth power? He turned his blood to fire.\"\n\nAn indrawn breath from Arn.\n\n\"I would like very much to take him alive and put him to the question,\" Fritha said. \"We both know how few of the Order are taught the old ways of blood and bone.\" She looked at Elise, glanced quickly at Arn. \"He could be skilled at healing. The Order value that.\"\n\nShe could almost hear Arn's mind focusing on that word, healing, and clinging to that shred of hope.\n\n\"Perhaps we should continue our pursuit, then,\" Arn said. \"But what of Morn? We need her. And she is Gulla's daughter.\"\n\nHe left the rest unsaid. Fritha knew if Morn was lost, Gulla's wrath would be great indeed. She breathed deep, straightening her shoulders. She knew what she had to do, just did not want to admit it.\n\n\"I hope that Morn returns to us. But if she is not hereby the time we have broken our fast on the morrow, then we must move on. I will need to speak with Gulla.\"\n\n\"He will not be happy,\" Arn said.\n\n\"I am not happy,\" Fritha snapped. She calmed herself. \"Death smiles at us all,\" she said.\n\n\"All that we can do is smile back,\" Arn replied, repeating their mantra, something they had said a thousand times to each other since the day they had first met. The day the Ben-Elim had come."},{"from":"human","value":"Fritha nodded, her thoughts already elsewhere."},{"from":"gpt","value":"She squeezed Elise's hand and made her way to the back of the tent, lifted up a fur hide to reveal what lay beneath.\n\nThe draig egg.\n\nFritha crouched beside it, stroked it gently with her palm.\n\nI can feel you stirring, my baby, she thought.\n\nSoon.\n\nShe rose and left.\n\nFritha shared a bowl of broth with her warriors around the fire. A pile of bones, teeth and claws were heaped close to the fire, and the draig's skin was staked out where it had been scraped of flesh and fat.\n\nIt will make a score of cloaks and boots.\n\nThen Fritha stood and paced into the shadows, finding a handful of her Ferals gathered together in a huddle, a weave of limbs and fur, the glint of teeth in the dappled starlight. The others had been sent out as guardians, their noses, ears and eyes making them far better than any human sentry. Some were sleeping, but they stirred and looked up at Fritha as she approached.\n\n\"Don't getup, my children,\" she crooned as she reached them, crouching and stroking the jutting brow of one. He looked at her and whined.\n\n\"We'll find them soon,\" Fritha said, knowing that the Ferals did not really care; they were guided by much baser instincts: hunger, thirst, a pack mentality. But they were faithful and true to her; if she wanted something done, so did they.\n\nFritha lay down with them, felt them shift to curl around her, their warmth seeping into her, a barrier that sent the winter's chill fleeing. The smell wasn't too good, Fritha had to admit, musty, damp fur and sweat, but it was a fair bargain for being warm and feeling safe, protected. Even loved, and that was a feeling that Fritha hadn't known fora very longtime."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She closed her eyes.\n\nFritha raised her hand, calling a halt.\n\nShe was standing on the slope of a hill, looking east onto the great plain of the Desolation that opened up before her, jagged and scarred. Snow had softened the fissured landscape, giving it an endless, undulating appearance. It was late in the day, Fritha having set her pace by the injured bear and those carrying the wounded on stretchers.\n\nHere and thereon the plain she saw pinpricks of light marking isolated holds. Her eyes fixed on the closest one, roughly two or three leagues from her position.\n\nThat will do.\n\nWith a gesture, she started her small column moving, picking away down the slope, through wind-blasted pines in the failing light as dusk settled around them.\n\nMorn had not come, and so Fritha had made the decision to move out. Waiting was achieving nothing, only allowing Drem to widen the gap between them. She had made her decision, knew that she wanted to catch them; she could not turn her back and walkaway from the lure of the huntsman's knowledge and power and the prize that was the young Cullen. But she could not build rafts and follow them down the river; they could not fashion a raft big enough to safely take Gunil's bear, so Fritha made the decision to travel by land, which meant back-tracking on their route and attempting to find new paths through the Bonefells that would lead them back to the river.\n\nShe was concerned about Morn but knew that if the half-breed was alive and found her way back to the draig lair, she would have no great difficulties in tracking Fritha.\n\nIt had taken her most of the day to lead her dwindling, battered survivors to the ravine where Drem and his companions had fooled them and changed their course, but since then they had made better time, the sharp gullies and ravines of the Bonefells shifting to the foothills that bordered the mountains."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha was deeply aware that she was losing time, that each moment was allowing Drem to widen the gap between them, but there was nothing that she could do about that right now, and as annoyed and vexed as she was about it, she was ever the pragmatist.\n\nAnd besides, there is something else that I must do.\n\nI need to communicate with Gulla, and for that I require certain... ingredients.\n\nFritha crept through the snow, slow and steady, minimizing the crunch of each frozen step, until she reached the post-and-rail fence of a paddock, marking the boundary of the hold.\n\nSilent as smoke, she slipped between the rails and moved into the paddock, Arn a shadow behind her, a deeper darkness behind him that was Gunil. Fritha knew that her people were doing the same all around the hold, edging closer, like wolven stalking an unsuspecting elk. Fritha had commanded her Ferals to stay further out in a loose circle around the hold.\n\nShe needed people taken alive.\n\nA building loomed and Fritha pressed tight against it, took a few moments to listen. From the smell and sounds, it was a stable. She leaned out from the shadows, saw two ponies and a thick-boned plough-horse. Beyond the stable was a courtyard, snow glistening like crystals in the starlight. It was bordered by outbuildings-a barn, a chicken coop, a pig-pen. A few goats roamed free. At the courtyard's head was a small feast-hall, snow thick on the turf-covered roof. Light glimmered through shuttered windows, and Fritha heard the murmur of conversation.\n\nThere was a small gap between the stable and the feast-hall, Fritha slipping across, climbing the few steps that raised the feast-hall from the ground, Arn behind her, Gunil remaining in the darkness of the stable."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A shadow on the porch before the hall's doors shifted, and then a hound was standing, growling and barking.\n\nArn stepped around Fritha, took half a dozen steps and put his spear in its chest; growls turned to a high-pitched whine, cut short.\n\nThe doors flew open, a dark silhouette with a tangle of beard, standing in a moment's frozen shock. Arn tugged on his spear, trying to turn, but the blade was snagged in the dog's corpse.\n\nShouts and footsteps came from inside the hall.\n\nThe silhouette threw himself at Arn, the two of them stumbling over the hound's body and going down in a snarl of limbs.\n\nAnother figure burst from the hall, a woman, lean and wiry. Fritha slammed her spear-butt into the woman's head. She dropped sprawling to the ground and didn't move. Arn and his attacker rolled down the steps to the courtyard, but before Fritha could reach them she was attacked by another figure rushing from the hall, a gangly youth swinging a wood-axe at her. She blocked and retreated, blocked and retreated, resisting the opportunities to stab into his throat or belly.\n\nThen Gunil was there, a fist clubbing the lad across his shoulders, and he was on the ground, too.\n\nArn was stood over his assailant, who was kneeling on slush-churned ground, a handful of Fritha's crew around him, spears levelled.\n\n\"Bind them,\" Fritha said.\n\nShe strode into the hall, saw afire-pit with a pot hanging over it, a few stools and chairs around it. An old woman was sitting in one. She held out a knife as Fritha approached."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I'll not stand and knife-fight you as I would have once,\" the woman said, \"but I'll give you a cut or two 'fore you take me.\"\n\n\"I'm sure you would, grandmother,\" Fritha said, dipping her head respectfully, \"but it would be better for me, and for your kin, if you just drop the knife. I don't want to hurt them, just need the use of your hall for the night.\" She stood in front of the old lady, out of knife range, and rested her spear-button the ground. Fritha knew she could just skewer the old woman where she sat.\n\nBehind Fritha her crew were entering the hall, dragging their captives.\n\n\"No harm will come to them?\" the woman said.\n\n\"They will all live through this night, you have my oath,\" Fritha said.\n\nThe woman nodded and dropped the blade.\n\n\"A wise choice,\" Fritha said. She turned to Arn. \"Take them to the barn, light afire for them so they don't freeze.\"\n\nArn nodded and left, the captives herded with them.\n\n\"What about my mother?\" the one who had attacked Arn called, a thickset man with a heavy beard.\n\n\"She and I have things to talk about,\" Fritha said. She felt sympathy for these people, knew that they had likely come north into the Desolation to escape the rule of the Ben-Elim. They were not the enemy.\n\nBut these are hard times, and hard decisions must oft be made.\n\n\"Take them away,\" Fritha said with a wave of her hand. She inspected the contents of the pot: mutton stew, by the smell of it. She gave it astir with a ladle, offered some to the old woman, who shook her head, and then scooped herself a bowlful. She sat on a stool and shuffled closer to the old woman."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"A hard life for you, herein the Desolation,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Hard times all round,\" the old woman said suspiciously. \"Just different kinds of hard. The Desolation isn't so bad.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" grunted Fritha, sipping from the bowl. It was greasy and watery but tasted as fine a meal as Fritha could remember right now. \"Freedom's worth much,\" she said, watching the grandmother.\n\n\"True enough.\"\n\n\"The Ben-Elim?\" Fritha said.\n\nAfter along hard stare, the old woman nodded.\n\n\"I've heard talk of the Ben-Elim's flesh tithe,\" Fritha said. \"They wanted your grandson?\"\n\nAlong sigh. \"Aye, they did. We were not of a mind to give him up, like coin in some kind of tax.\" The old woman spat into the fire.\n\nFritha nodded, understanding. She wished she had time, knew that the Desolation was filling with people like this, with grudges against the Ben-Elim. But time was no longer a luxury that she and Gulla had. Not with Drem likely only a ten-night away from Dun Seren, and his cursed talking crow closer than that.\n\nStill, she felt that she had to try.\n\n\"They'll come here, too,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Maybe, maybe not,\" the woman said.\n\n\"They will,\" Fritha said. \"And soon. You could stand against them, fight them. You and your kin.\"\n\n\"Fight the Ben-Elim and their White-Wings?\" The woman snorted. \"Hah. I am no coward, but I am no fool, either. That way's a quick path to an iron-edged death.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"There are others that would fight the Ben-Elim. You could join them.\"\n\n\"Who?\" the woman said, eyes narrowing suspiciously.\n\n\"The Kadoshim,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Are you a madwoman?\" the grandmother said. \"They are worse than the Ben-Elim. Why fight for them?\"\n\n\"I'll wager all that you've ever heard of the Kadoshim has come from the mouth or quill of the Ben-Elim. Who has ever spoken highly of their enemy?\" Fritha shook her head. \"The Kadoshim are not the monsters that the Ben-Elim make them out to be. They would not be the masters of the Banished Lands, it is just the defeat of the Ben-Elim that they strive for. When the war is won they will share their power, and they will remember those who help them achieve that goal.\"\n\n\"You're insane,\" the woman hissed. \"You would have me trade one tyrant for another. No, better to come here, to leave them to their scrapping and start anew life. A hard life, aye, but a free one.\"\n\n\"Free today, but for how long?\" Fritha said. \"You think the Ben-Elim will not come here? Of course they will, maybe not this moon, nor the next, but soon. Before your grandson is a man, is my guess.\"\n\nThe old woman scowled at her.\n\n\"Why do you fight for them, then?\"\n\nFritha looked at the old woman, saw a genuine question in her eyes.\n\n\"Because the Ben-Elim killed my baby,\" Fritha whispered, choosing to tell the truth.\n\nFootsteps. Fritha knew from the way the floorboards shook that it was Gunil."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The way the grandmother's eyes widened as she looked over Fritha's shoulder also gave Fritha the same answer.\n\n\"What monsters have you brought into my hold?\" The old woman spat out a curse.\n\n\"War makes monsters of us all,\" Fritha said. \"And the trouble with war is that it follows you. Sometimes there's no escaping it. Sometimes the only choice is to choose which side you stand on.\"\n\n\"My son and his wife, my grandson,\" the grandmother said, eyes fixed on Gunil, who was towering over Fritha now, as he examined the contents of the pot over the fire-pit. \"You swore they would live.\"\n\n\"They will,\" Fritha said. \"I can't just leave them here, though. They will come with me and choose aside. You, though, grandmother, you are not up to the journey. And I did not swear to keep you safe.\"\n\nFritha shook her head, leaning forward and patting the old woman's hand. She felt a wave of sympathy for this woman, a sadness at what she had to do.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" Fritha said, \"but I need your face.\" And, faster than a blink, she drew her knife and stabbed the old woman in the throat.\n\nFritha sliced her knife across her palm and squeezed her hand into a fist, letting the blood flow and drip into a small iron bowl she'd set on a table. Beyond it was a wooden frame she'd quickly crafted, four hooks in each corner. Attached to these hooks was the skinned face of the old woman she'd just killed, stretched out across the frame, hanging loose like an empty sail. Globs of fat and blood still dripped from it. The dead woman's body lay cast upon the ground. Out of the corner of her eye Fritha saw a rat scurry from the shadows and start nibbling at the meat exposed beneath the hastily skinned face. She ignored it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Glacaim liom anois, Gulla, aingeal dubh, agus tríd an fhuil,\" Fritha chanted as she dripped her blood into the bowl. It rippled as if some hidden wyrm were uncoiling within it.\n\n\"Glacaim liom anois, Gulla, aingeal dubh, agus tríd an fhuil,\" she repeated, louder. The skin stretched upon the frame twitched and spasmed. Although the doors had been closed and barred, the windows tightly shuttered, a cold wind blew through the room, sending the flames in the fire-pit dancing and hissing, making shadows dance. Behind her, Fritha heard Gunil grunt.\n\n\"Glacaim liom anois, Gulla, aingeal dubh, agus tríd an fhuil,\" Fritha said for the third time, and the skin on the frame shifted, filling as if a breeze moved it, then more violently, the mouth jerking, opening, the cheeks filling, changing shape, and the eyes sparking to red life.\n\n\"Fritha,\" a voice rasped from the animated skin, Gulla's voice. \"What do you want? I am busy.\"\n\nFritha drew in a deep breath.\n\nLittle point worrying about a thing. Best just to say it.\n\n\"Morn is missing, and Drem and his companions are likely going to reach Dun Seren. Even if we catch them, the crow that took your eye is no longer with them. I think it likely they've sent it on ahead to take word of you to Byrne.\"\n\n\"What!\" The face snarled, grating like iron scraping over a cairn-stone. A smell of decay wafted from the mouth of the skinned visage."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha repeated her words. \"I am sorry, Lord,\" she added.\n\n\"Gunil?\" Gulla's voice asked.\n\n\"I am here,\" the giant said. He was looking at the rat, still feasting upon the dead woman's skinless face.\n\n\"Report,\" Gulla ordered.\n\n\"Things have not gone well.\" Gunil shrugged. \"My Claw has been wounded.\"\n\nIs that all he cares about? Fritha scowled.\n\n\"By a draig,\" Fritha added. \"We have sustained casualties. Drem and the two Order warriors escaped by leaping into a river while we fought the draig.\"\n\n\"And my daughter?\" Gulla growled.\n\n\"She went out scouting four days ago and has not returned.\"\n\nThe skinned face scowled, not a pleasant expression. Fritha controlled the urge to shudder.\n\nGunil raised afoot and stamped on the rat. Bones crunched.\n\n\"The Order are likely to hear of our presence at the Starstone Lake,\" Fritha said. \"Of the sword, of you...\"\n\n\"I understand the implications,\" Gulla snapped. \"I am not ready yet, have more to do.\" A silence. The red eyes shifted and flickered. \"We will have to speedup the plan. There is nothing else we can do. I shall send forth the Seven.\"\n\n\"You are able to do that?\"\n\n\"Aye. We have turned half a thousand already, from Kergard and the surrounding holds. I wanted more before I sent out my Seven, but...\" The face twitched, a movement like wind blowing across a sail.\n\n\"I will send them into the Land of the Faithful,\" he said. A fierce shifting of his mouth, a ghastly parody of a smile."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What of our allies in the south?\" Fritha asked.\n\n\"I will send word to the Shekam also, but this maybe too soon for them.\" A snarl rippled across the skinned face. \"A hundred years in the planning, and now there is no time. Because of a talking crow.\"\n\nPlans are wonderful things until they go wrong, Fritha thought. Which they always do. She held her tongue, though, and remained silent as the parody of Gulla's features twisted in rage.\n\n\"Your numbers,\" Gulla eventually said, \"and, where are you?\"\n\n\"Thirty of us,\" Fritha said. \"We are at a hold at the southern tip of the Bonefells; likely thirty leagues from Dun Seren.\"\n\nAnother silence, the jaws of the animated skin opening and closing, as if Gulla were gnashing his teeth.\n\n\"You must return tome. You carry the Starstone Sword and you're too close to Dun Seren. We cannot risk it falling into the hands of the Order of the Bright Star.\"\n\nFritha hated to fail at a task, and she longed to take Drem and his companions prisoner, just so that she could drag them back to Gulla and cast them at his feet.\n\nShe muttered a curse to herself.\n\n\"What?\" Gulla's voice said.\n\n\"There are reasons to continue the pursuit,\" Fritha said. \"One of them, the huntsman, knows the earth power. He spoke the old words, melted the faces from a handful of my people. And the young one, he is Cullen, descendant of Corban.\"\n\nThe skinned face creased as Gulla frowned. \"Two valuable prizes.\" The lips moved, a sibilant hiss. \"One with the closely guarded secrets of the Order, the other atrophy to crush their spirit and raise our own. I remember that Corban.\" Gulla spat the words like a poison. \"The worm that dared stand against our king.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He slew Calidus, Asroth's chosen commander, the legends tell,\" Fritha said, intrigued to hear a Kadoshim speak of those days.\n\n\"Aye,\" Gulla grunted, \"through trickery. Calidus was a fool.\"\n\n\"To capture his grandchild would be a great triumph, my Lord. One that you could proclaim to your kin. Something to set against the blow of being forced to move sooner than planned.\"\n\nGulla's face twitched and snarled.\n\n\"Hunt them a little longer,\" he breathed.\n\n\"As you command, my Lord,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Good. Do not fail me.\" With along, exhaled sigh like the rattle before death, the skinned face deflated, sagging in its framework.\n\nFritha set to taking it apart, packing it away into a small wooden chest she'd found in the hall. She folded the skinned face and wrapped it in apiece of linen, putting it into the chest on top of the frame andiron bowl.\n\nA fist pounded on the door and Fritha turned, swept up her spear.\n\nGunil strode to the doors and lifted off the bar he'd set across it. Arn was there, his arm around a figure half-slumped against him.\n\nIt was Morn.\n\nShe was wet and bedraggled, ice glistening in the hair on her stubbled head, and one of her wings drooped at an odd angle. Something was draped about her, a tattered net snared in one wing and arm, wrapped around her leg.\n\nArn half led her, half dragged her into the hall, Gunil taking the half-breed in his thick arms."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Morn lifted her head and looked at Fritha.\n\n\"I've found them,\" the half-breed said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Some help here,\" Cullen said, pointing to a pot hanging over a small fire. They were sitting within their rough-made tent, a screen of hide blankets and cloaks stitched together and tied to coppiced branches, afire-pit scraped into the hard earth.\n\nDrem stood, wincing as the knife-cut along his waistline rubbed, scabs cracking, and the stitches in his back and arm pulled.\n\nI hope she drowned, Drem thought, echoing Cullen's words at the riverside. Three days had passed since the half-breed had fallen into the river, and there had been no sight or sound of her or Fritha's acolytes. So the likelihood was she had drowned.\n\nAnd good riddance.\n\nThe knowledge that they needed to move seeped through Drem, making him anxious and fidgety. But he also knew they could not leave. Keld was in the grip of a fever, and Hammer was slumped outside, unable or refusing to walk.\n\nOur only option is to leave them, which I won't do. I hope that Rab has reached Dun Seren.\n\nCullen passed a branch through the handle of the pot and they both lifted it, carrying it away from the fire. Dappled starlight lit their way as they walked a dozen paces beneath the shelter of pine trees towards the prostrate form of Hammer. The bear lifted her heavy head from her paws and looked at them, a morose growl rumbling in her belly.\n\n\"Here you go, girl,\" Cullen said as they placed the pot in front of the bear. She sniffed it and looked away.\n\n\"That won't do,\" Cullen said, squatting before her and using a ladle as a spoon, scooping a thick, porridge-like substance from the pot and lifting it to the bear's lips."},{"from":"human","value":"\"She usually loves brot,\" Cullen whispered over his shoulder to Drem, his voice heavy with worry."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Can't get enough of the stuff.\"\n\nDrem checked the numerous bandages about the bear, applied more honey and compresses to the bear's many injuries, a multitude of claw marks and puncture wounds. None smelled bad or leaked pus, which was something, though Drem feared that the bear would never walk properly again. He'd checked the bones in her shoulder where he'd seen the giant strike her with his great war-hammer, and from what he could tell nothing seemed broken, but since Hammer had pulled and clawed her way out of the river and onto this riverbank, she had taken her weight for only a few score seconds or so. Rising briefly to stagger across the shingle bank, up higher onto a grassy slope and into the cover of these towering pine trees, and then a little further to collapse against a granite boulder. She had not stood since then, even during the half-breed's attack, despite every effort to encourage her from Cullen and Drem.\n\nCullen managed to spoon a few ladles of brot into Hammer's mouth, and Drem stroked her neck, felt her swallow once. They persevered, tried to give her more, but Hammer just lay her head down on her paws and gave out what sounded like along, rumbling groan, almost like a sigh.\n\nHas she given up? Pining for Sig, and now her injuries and exhaustion on top of that grief.\n\n\"That'll have to do for now,\" Cullen said dejectedly. He rubbed Hammer's furry cheek and stood. They made their way back to their shelter and hung the pot back over the fire, Cullen stirring its contents. When it started to bubble again he filled two bowls and passed one to Drem.\n\n\"Eat it while it's still warm,\" Cullen said. \"And trust me when I say it doesn't get to taste any better when it's cold.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Drem sniffed it.\n\nThe brot was as thick as porridge, though it tasted more of earth and bark than hot oats. After his first taste Drem had declined, but Cullen had insisted, claiming it was made by giants and would fill and sustain him far longer than any other meal.\n\nStarving hunger had eventually convinced Drem to eat it. Cullen had been right: Drem had felt strengthened and fortified, the effects lasting far longer than he would have expected, though he'd been tempted to add some of their small supply of honey to help it go down better, but they were saving that for the treatment of the many wounds they seemed to be collecting.\n\nKeld lay within their shelter, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in what looked like sleep. He was thick with sweat, his skin mottled and patchy, a lump the size of an egg on the back of his head, his chest criss-crossed with claw marks from the Feral that had felled him. Drem and Cullen had cleaned the wounds, but on the second day they had turned angry and inflamed, by the third day had started weeping thick yellow pus. On the fourth day Drem had thought Keld was going to die, but then something had turned in him, and by the fifth day the fluid leaking from Keld's wounds was clear. His fever had lessened, though it was not beaten yet. Keld's head cast about and he murmured something, a word breathed from cracked lips.\n\n\"Fen.\"\n\nDrem felt a deep guilt at leaving the wolven-hound behind. Cullen had slung the unconscious form of Keld over his shoulder and run for the river, Hammer limping and lumbering after him, and Drem had run to the hound, a pile of fur at the base of a tree where the draig had thrown it. Fen was breathing, but Drem could not get the animal to stand. He'd tried to lift the wolven-hound and had managed to raise him into his arms, a prodigious feat, as the animal weighed the rough equivalent of a pony. Fen had snapped at him, whined with the pain. Drem was no weakling, in fact men had picked fights with him because of his size and freakish strength, but a score of paces and Drem's back and legs were crumpling. He'd been unable to goon, had tried calling to Cullen and Hammer, but they were out of earshot and couldn't hear him over the din of the draig and giant bear anyway, and there was no time to get them and comeback for the wolven-hound, so he'd veered into the trees and laid Fen down behind a fallen rotted tree. A rib-bone was protruding through the wolven-hound's side. Drem put one hand on the bone, another on the hound's side, and pushed, trying to manipulate the bone back into place. He'd got a snapping growl and a half-hearted bite for it, but with a click the bone slotted back into place."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I'm sorry, lad,\" Drem said, \"but I can't carry you.\" He heaped a mound of litter over the wolven-hound, then ran for the river and Cullen.\n\nThe guilt of it lay heavily upon him.\n\nCullen checked Keld, wiped his brow tenderly with a damp cloth, his eyes creased with worry.\n\n\"Comeback tome, Keld,\" Drem heard Cullen whisper. \"I cannot lose you, too.\" A teardrop dripped from the young warrior's nose and he sniffed and cuffed more tears away.\n\n\"Can you not do... something?\" Drem asked, thinking of how Keld had revealed the runes upon his seax. And of how his father Olin had forged the Starstone Sword, chanting words of power.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Cullen said, frowning. \"I've done all I can think of.\"\n\n\"I mean, the earth power. Keld made the runes appear on my seax. Can you not help Keld's healing?\"\n\n\"The Order does not spoon out the earth power like brot, more's the pity,\" Cullen said glumly. \"Only a few are invited to learn. It is a great honour, a privilege, and we must be sure you can handle the responsibility of that power,\" he added in a high-pitched voice, as if he mimicked someone else's speech. \"Apparently, I am not deemed responsible, yet,\" Cullen muttered.\n\nDrem spooned brot into his mouth, forcing himself to swallow.\n\n\"There are worse ways to stay alive.\" Cullen grinned at him as he ate his own bowl of steaming brot with apparent gusto. Shockingly, and remarkably, Cullen had escaped the fight at the draig den almost completely unscathed. A few scratches, a bruise on his shoulder, but nothing more serious. Drem had needed stitching on the cut Fritha had given him on his forearm, as well as the deep gouges across his back from a Feral's claws. The knife-cut from the half-breed along his waist was the shallowest, but also the one that hurt the most, almost every movement pulling and rubbing at the scabbing wound."},{"from":"human","value":"We should leave here soon."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Should have left days ago. But how can we, with Keld still unable to walk? Cullen and I could build a litter and carry him, but we would be so slow, Fritha and her beasts would be upon us in no time. It's amazing that they haven't found us already. We need Hammer to carry Keld out of here, if only she would try and stand. It seems that she's lost the will to live.\n\n\"I can't leave Keld or Hammer behind,\" Cullen said fiercely, as if reading Drem's thoughts. \"I've known them all my life, spent most of my days in their company. They're close tome as kin.\"\n\n\"I'd not ask you to,\" Drem said. \"Somethings are more important than breathing a little longer.\" His thoughts drifted to his da, Olin, the only constant he had ever known in his life-a stab of pain in his belly, grief, like a leviathan stirring. All of his life Drem could only remember his father, and that had been enough for him. He had loved the brief mentions of his mam, longed to hear more of her, and in the last year he had become more and more agitated at his father's reticence to tell Drem of his past. In the end Olin had, and Drem understood now why it had been such a closely guarded secret. He wished that he'd had more time to spend with Olin after he had heard the truth from his father's lips. If anything, it had made them closer, Drem hearing how Olin's whole life had been dedicated to keeping Drem safe.\n\nHe blinked, banishing tears that threatened to rise.\n\nHe looked at Cullen, so young, only eighteen summers old, and yet he had seen so much, was so skilled with a blade."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Though that is hardly surprising, given his lineage. Cullen was the great-grandson of Corban, greatest hero of the Banished Lands.\n\n\"Do you remember my mam and da?\" Drem asked Cullen.\n\n\"Ach, no,\" Cullen said. \"I was barely two summers old when the Battle of Varan's Fall and all that happened with the Ben-Elim occurred.\" He shrugged. \"I felt as if I knew them, though, for all the tales that are told about them. Fine warriors, the both of them, but your mam, she was a terror, if Sig spoke true-and Sig always spoke true, even when the truth would cut like a blade.\" He smiled, a weight of memory behind the expression.\n\n\"I only know what anyone at the Order knows,\" Cullen continued. \"That the Ben-Elim wanted you as award, because your mam was sister to Byrne, our high captain. Olin stole you away from the Order, both to save you and to prevent a war between the Order and the Ben-Elim. A brave man, your da, that's what Sig said.\"\n\n\"He was.\" Drem sighed, thinking of how Olin had kept him safe, moving, living a solitary life.\n\nDa wasn't just my kin, he was my only friend.\n\n\"What of Byrne, my aunt?\" Drem asked. It felt strange saying that out loud. For all of his life Drem had not known of any kin related to him beyond his father and his dead mother. And Byrne was High Captain of the Order of the Bright Star, descended from Cywen, Corban's sister.\n\n\"Ah, now there's a warrior. Not to look at, not like Sig, where you just knew crossing blades with her would end badly. Byrne, though, she looks...\" He paused and thought, tapping a tooth. \"Ordinary. She's not, though. I've had more bruises from Byrne in the weapons-field than from anyone else, including Sig. Byrne's adder-fast, and she uses this.\" He tapped his forehead. \"She's got a sharp tongue on her as well, doesn't suffer fools gladly.\" Cullen grimaced, and Drem could tell there was a weight of memory and experience behind that expression, too."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Beyond their shelter, Hammer growled.\n\nIna heartbeat Cullen was on his feet and striding out of their shelter into the night, sword hissing into his fist. Drem was a moment behind him, ignoring the pain from his complaining wounds. He drew his seax and stood next to Cullen, staring into the night-black, silvered by starlight.\n\nHammer's head was up and she was snuffling the air in great snorts.\n\n\"Hold your breath, Hammer, I'm trying to listen,\" Cullen muttered, eyes scanning the darkness.\n\nDrem moved away from the shelter and the soft fire-glow that leaked from the hide entrance, slipping into the tree-dark. He looked up, knew that their shelter was shielded from eyes above by the combination of thick canopy and hide tent. He'd reconnoitred all three of the paths that led away from this spot, knew that only one of them twisted roughly north, in the direction of their last encounter with Fritha.\n\nIf they've found us, that will be where they come from.\n\nDrem had set a few traps, more as a chance of early warning than in any hope of defeating Fritha and her horrific crew. But as he listened to the coal-black woods he heard nothing.\n\nThen...\n\nMore a whisper of sound, the hint of a footfall. He strained, trying to hear, to cut through the darkness with eyes and ears. Nothing, and then there it was, again but louder, like a shuffling gait. His eyes snapped towards the sound. A deeper darkness in the gloom formed, the suggestion of movement. Growing larger, closer.\n\nDrem crouched, Seax held ready, and Cullen took a step into the darkness, sword gilded in starlight."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A whine.\n\nThen Cullen was running forwards and Fen the wolven-hound was limping out of the murk.\n\nDrem was only a footstep behind as Cullen dropped to his knees and hugged the wolven-hound, wrapping his arms around the beast's thick neck.\n\nDrem felt such a sense of relief that a grin split his face, the weight of their circumstances leaving him fora while.\n\n\"Ah, but you're a tough one,\" Cullen was saying, laughing and crying. \"I saw you jump at that draig, you lunatic.\"\n\nFen gave Cullen a rasping lick on the cheek, but then he was pushing through Cullen's embrace, shaking him off and limping forwards, towards their shelter. Cullen let the wolven-hound go, eyes shining.\n\nDrem followed Fen as he limped his way into the shelter. The hound stopped then, took along sniff of the air, head weaving, eyes fastening upon Keld lying beyond the fire-pit. A quickening of his pace and he was beside the huntsman, nudging him, licking him, whining. Keld stirred, muttered something incomprehensible, but did not wake.\n\nFen turned in a circle and lay down tight to the unconscious huntsman; with a very human-like sigh he rested his head on the huntsman's hand, and in a handful of heartbeats the wolven-hound was asleep, his deep chest rising and falling.\n\n\"Ach, with friends like this, how can we ever lose?\" Cullen grinned at Drem.\n\nDrem smiled back, overwhelmed to seethe wolven-hound, the guilt he had felt at leaving him lifting from his mind.\n\nThat hound has a will of iron. Drem remembered how bad his condition had been."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He has had along hard road to find us.\n\nThey settled down for the night, Drem taking first watch. He stepped outside their rudimentary shelter and found a pine tree to lean against, pulled tight the bearskin cloak about his shoulders and looked out into the darkness. He rested a hand upon the seax at his belt, loosened the blade in its scabbard, something that was becoming a habit with him. The cold would make the blade stick, and the last thing he wanted was to need his blade and not be able to draw it.\n\nSomething was telling him that he might be needing a blade in his hand, all too soon.\n\nBecause if Fen could find us, then so can other things.\n\nDrem woke to the sound of Fen the wolven-hound urinating up the side of their shelter.\n\nI've had better starts to a day.\n\nHe rolled over and saw Cullen was banking the fire and setting a pot to bubbling.\n\nDrem slipped out from under his blanket as Fen pushed his way through the stitched cloaks that acted as a tent flap and padded over to Keld. He set to licking the huntsman's face, nibbling at his beard as if he were grooming Keld.\n\n\"Ach, get off,\" Keld said, a hand reaching up to attempt a feeble shove. Fen yipped and leaped in a circle, his wagging tail threatening to bring down the tent, began pawing at Keld, crouching and barking, pawing again.\n\n\"Keld!\" Cullen cried, rushing to the huntsman's side.\n\nDrem grinned.\n\nKeld sat up, rubbing his head.\n\n\"I'm starving,\" he said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Ah, but it's good to have you back with us,\" Cullen said to Keld.\n\nKeld nodded, said something incomprehensible through a mouthful of brot.\n\nDrem was starting to feel a little worried about the huntsman. He knew that half a bowl of the foul-tasting gruel had filled him to bursting and made him feel as if he'd had a stomach full of lead for the next day and a half. Keld was on his third bowl.\n\nHe's going to eat himself to death.\n\nDrem handed Keld a spit of squirrel meat that had been turning over the fire. He was a trapper, after all, and had been sitting in this camp for six days. He'd had to do something, so their food bags were full, and brot, thankfully, was no longer a necessity. Keld looked up from his bowl and took the squirrel meat, tore off a chunk.\n\n\"It's hot, you might want to take it slo-\"\n\nKeld swallowed the chunk of meat, hardly chewing it, and ripped off another slab of meat.\n\n\"Never mind.\"\n\n\"So, what trouble are we in?\" Keld asked, wiping grease from his mouth and beard.\n\n\"Remarkably, none that I can report on,\" Cullen said good-naturedly. \"I thought Fritha and her arsewipes would have sniffed us out by now.\" He patted his sword hilt. \"But thus far, no such luck.\" He gave his mad grin, the one that Drem was starting to associate with Cullen's desire for against-all-odds danger.\n\nThey'd told Keld of how the battle had ended, of the draig and their mad scramble for the river, of tying Keld to Hammer's back and leaping into the ice floe."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Keep the narrative going for the author.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\\nAuthor: John Gwynne\\nTitle: A Time of Blood\\nChapter: 16\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What is it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bleda said to him, leaning upon an elbow.\\n\\nDoes he think me weak, for not standing up to Kol, for calling him lord?\\n\\nEllac looked at him, but said nothing, then looked back to the fire. With a sigh, Bleda lay down, rolling over with his back to Ellac. Sleep took along time to come, despite the soporific crackle and pop of the fire as it slowly faded. He reached inside his cloak, found what he was looking for and pulled it out carefully, opening his palm in the dying fire-glow.\\n\\nA large feather, dapple grey, and, folded within it, a purple flower of mountain thyme. He lay there looking at it, thinking, until sleep claimed him.\\n\\nDrassil was ahead of them; tall and foreboding, banners snapping in the breeze from towers and walls, the silhouettes of Ben-Elim circling lazily above it. Six days of riding it had taken them to reach the ancient fortress, and Bleda felt his breath coming faster, a tension in his shoulders as he rode through the huge field of cairns that spread across the plain before the western gates.\\n\\nKol ordered horns blown as they crossed the field of cairns, and horn blasts echoed out from the gate tower in response.\\n\\nAll cannot go back to how it was-it must not. The world is changing.\\n\\n\\\"My mother must know of what is happening here,\\\" he whispered to Ellac, leaning close to the old warrior, who was riding beside him.\\n\\nEllac looked at him, his heavy-lidded eyes unreadable, though Bleda had the distinct impression that Bleda was appraising him.\\n\\n\\\"I sent word to her the day we took Riv from Drassil,\\\" Ellac said. \\\"My Prince,\\\" he added.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Over a moon ago, closer to two. Then word should have reached her in Arcona by now, or soon will. Did Ellac do it to help me, or report on me? Is he my mother's spy?\\n\\n\\\"Good,\\\" he said to Ellac.\\n\\nWith a heavy creak and grinding, Drassil's gates opened. Kol and some of his Ben-Elim flew over the gatehouse, more horns echoing out from the vast walls. Aphra led her White-Wings marching through the gate tunnel. Bleda followed, the clip of his horse's hooves echoing on the stone, and then they were in the courtyard, a small host arrayed to greet them: Ben-Elim and White-Wings, all manner of stablehands and servants. And then Bleda saw others, dark-skinned warriors with shaved heads and long warrior braids, fora moment thought they were the remnants of his warrior-guard that had not accompanied him into Forn Forest. But then he saw their deel tunics were blue, not grey, and realized that they were of the Cheren Clan, not the Sirak.\\n\\nAnd he saw a young woman standing at their head, dark-haired, straight-backed and strong-shouldered, her features fine and sharp.\\n\\nJin.\\n\\nA weight like a lead ball fell in the pit of Bleda's stomach as he remembered.\\n\\nI have not thought of her for over a moon.\\n\\nJin strode forwards, two of her warrior-guard at her shoulder. She stopped before Bleda, looked up at him as he dismounted.\\n\\n\\\"Welcome back to Drassil, my betrothed,\\\" she said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Drem clamped his jaws together, trying to stop them from chattering as he knelt on the forest floor and peered through a carefully manufactured screen of pine branches and shrubs. After crawling from the freezing grasp of the river, he had shivered involuntarily fora whole day and night. Even now, another day on from that, he had to fight the occasional spasm that rippled through his jaws. Cold had seeped into him, deep as his bones, and did not want to relinquish its hold.\\n\\nThey had spent close to a whole day and night in the grip of the river, sheer granite cliffs rising either side of them, Drem lying upon a thick-slabbed sheet of ice, Cullen and Keld upon Hammer's back as she swam at first, and then spent her energy on trying to stay afloat. Cullen had managed to tie Keld to the huge saddle across Hammer's back and then cast a rope to Drem, who had tied it about the hilt of his seax and stabbed it deep into the ice raft he'd been clinging to, so that they would not become separated through the dark of night.\\n\\nIt had felt like the longest night of Drem's life, too terrified of rolling off his makeshift raft or losing his friends to sleep. He had been sure that death was only ever a handful of heartbeats away.\\n\\nWhen dawn had spread its pale glow across the river, he'd seen that the cliffs had given way to steep-sided slopes of shingle and pine, and as the day had worn on eventually shallow riverbanks appeared. Hammer paddled her way towards dry land, forging across the white-foamed current. The bear had crawled and scraped her bulk out of the river, then stumbled and limped to the granite boulder she was still slumped against now. Cullen had dragged Drem in by the rope and together they had cut Keld from Hammer's back and laid him out on the ground. He'd been unconscious and had remained more or less in the same state since then. Drem and Cullen had immediately set about making afire and shelter, both knowing the cold was likely to kill them far faster than any pursuit from Ferals and half-breed Kadoshim. They had stripped their clothes, Cullen chopping bundles of coppiced willow branches while Drem had shivered and shaken his way through, dragging out spare cloaks and hide blankets that had been bundled into Hammer's saddlebags and stitching them together. Even half-frozen, fingers, toes and lips turning blue, it had not taken them long to fashion a hide shelter and scrape afire-pit, banked with stones from the riverbed and lit with wood from a dead pine tree.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"After a stuttered, shivering conference, both Drem and Cullen had been confident that the river had carried them so far and fast that, unless their enemy built rafts and followed them down the river, there was at least three days' safety between them and their pursuers.\\n\\nApart from the half-breed.\\n\\nMustn't make a sound now. He put a hand to his jaw and physically clamped it shut, his eyes scanning the surrounding woodland through his latticed hide, looking up to search the treetop canopy.\\n\\nWhere is she?\\n\\nCullen was crouching in another hide in the shadows of a stand of pine, not more than thirty paces away from Drem. The sound of the river was a constant background roar in Drem's ears, unhelpfully masking other sounds. They were too close to the riverbank where Hammer had dragged them ashore. Drem could seethe bulk of the bear through the trees, a deeper darkness beyond the rough tent he and Cullen had built and where Keld still lay. Hammer was slumped beneath the shadow of a granite boulder. If there was any trouble Drem doubted the bear would be any help, she had hardly moved since she had staggered from the river.\\n\\nHammer's done enough for us.\\n\\nA rustling in the trees above and Drem shifted, quickly and quietly, tightening his grip on a rough javelin he'd carved.\\n\\nA wood pigeon, that was all.\\n\\nCullen said he saw her, the half-breed, flying along the river.\\n\\nMaybe she won't come this way.\\n\\nBut Drem was sure that she would. He remembered her voice in his ear, the look of hatred.\\n\\nThis is for my brother, she had said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Don't think she's the type to give up.\\n\\nHe stared at the path that led through the trees to the river. If the half-breed had led Fritha and her acolytes here, if they'd built rafts and floated down the river, then that path was the only approach to their makeshift camp.\\n\\nLot of'ifs\\\" there.\\n\\nA twig cracked, drawing Drem's eyes. A shadow in the darkness, solidifying into a figure. Squat, muscular, carrying a spear, wings arching over its back.\\n\\nDrem felt his heartbeat quicken. He'd satin hides a thousand times, hunting elk and other beasts, and never felt the worry of it.\\n\\nHunting half-breed Kadoshim is different, though.\\n\\nHis hand reached to his neck, found the comforting beat of his pulse.\\n\\nThe half-breed trod carefully through the pines. Boughs hung low over her head.\\n\\nHarder for her to fly here. That's in our favour.\\n\\nDrem focused on breathing long and slow, resisting the urge to burst from his hide and hurl his javelin.\\n\\nWait. It's all about the timing, my da used to say.\\n\\nShe was close, now, fifty paces, her head swivelling, searching the gloom. Close enough for Drem to seethe purpling bruising across her flat nose and eyes, from where he'd headbutted her.\\n\\nGood. Though I came off worse in that meeting. The knife-cut along his waist burned with every movement.\\n\\nDrem could seethe fabric of her wool tunic, taut and stretched over the musculature of her arms, a thick neck above her leather, fur-trimmed vest.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then she saw their tent, the patchwork of loosely stitched cloaks and blankets. The half-breed froze for long moments, staring at it, scanning the woodland around it.\\n\\nTake the bait.\\n\\nShe took a step towards the tent, then another, and another, her spear-point coming down, levelled in front of her.\\n\\nDrem shifted the grip on his javelin, slow and steady.\\n\\nJust like hunting. Wait for the moment, then stand and throw. One move.\\n\\nThe half-breed was a dozen paces from their makeshift camp, and by now she must be able to seethe shadowed outline of a figure inside the tent, a bulge pressed up against the fabric. Little did she know that it was a branch wrapped in a cloak. Drem remembered the rush of pride he'd felt at Cullen's praise for this trap. The bait, the lure, the hides, all Drem's idea, drawn from his hunting skills. It had just been obvious to him, what he thought anyone would have thought of.\\n\\nNevertheless, Cullen had been impressed and, as Drem was finding out about the red-haired warrior, he had not been reticent about verbalizing how he felt.\\n\\nFive paces from the tent, the half-breed started to raise her spear, preparing fora stab at the shape in the fabric.\\n\\nWhen she lunges is the moment. A few more paces and she'll be perfectly placed for both of us. Almost there.\\n\\nAnd then with an explosion of undergrowth Cullen burst from his hide and hurled his javelin.\\n\\nNo!\\n\\nThe half-breed leaped, no frozen moment, no fight-or-flight hesitation from her, just instant kinetic motion. Upwards, a short beat of her wings giving her extra height, her head brushing the canopy above her, where she hovered as Cullen's javelin hissed harmlessly beneath her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Cullen was already running at her, his sword grating from its scabbard.\\n\\nThe half-breed drew back her spear-arm.\\n\\nHe's too faraway, she's going to skewer him like a charging boar.\\n\\nDrem crashed out of his hide, to the half-breed's left, making far more noise than he ever had before. Intentionally.\\n\\nHer head turned towards him, a snarl twisting her features as she recognized him. Her wings moved, shifting her in the air, and in a heartbeat her spear was hurtling at him instead of Cullen, the half-breed bursting into flight behind it, straight at him.\\n\\nDrem dived to his right. The forest litter was thick and spongy with fallen pine needles, the spring in it helping him to roll to his knees as the half-breed's spear slammed into a tree trunk that had been immediately behind him.\\n\\nDrem hurled his javelin, the half-breed throwing herself to the side, swerving but not breaking her flying charge at him. Drem's weapon pierced a leathery wing but passed through it with no apparent effect, other than a small tattered hole in the wing.\\n\\nDrem grabbed for the hilt of his seax, and then she was slamming into him, her shoulder punching into his belly, lifting him bodily from the ground, both of them flying through the air. Drem crunched into a tree, stars exploding in his vision, air expelled from his lungs, hot lines of pain opening up across his back as the claw wounds from the Feral burst open. The half-breed wrapped a fist around his throat, holding him upright, squeezing.\\n\\nDrem's vision swam, his hand fumbling for his seax, finding the bone hilt, drawing and slashing in the same move, cutting across the half-breed's vest, slicing through leather and the fur lining beneath, through the linen under-tunic, and into flesh.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The half-breed flung herself backwards, a grunt of pain, along diagonal line welling blood across her chest.\\n\\nA whistle of air and she was ducking, turning as Cullen's sword slashed through air, grazing her wing.\\n\\nShe reeled away, backhanded Cullen in the mouth, sending him staggering to one knee, and she stepped forwards, punched him in the temple, knocked him sprawling to the ground.\\n\\nDrem pushed away from the tree and slashed at her again, drawing red across her back, cut the base where one wing met her back muscle. She cried out, stumbling forwards, regained her balance and ran, wings snapping wide; a beat, and she was lifting from the ground.\\n\\nDrem chased after her.\\n\\nThe half-breed rose, swaying in the air, lost altitude, her feet grazing the ground, still running, wings trying to lift her again.\\n\\nI've damaged her wing.\\n\\nDrem increased his speed. He was tall, muscular and strong, but he had long legs and was unusually fast for someone so heavy. He gained on the wounded half-breed. She flew low to the ground, hindered by the low branches of the pine trees. Drem's legs and arms pumping, drawing closer, thirty paces behind her, twenty, ten. And then she burst out from the trees into open air, the river wide and foaming white, shingle slopes rising on the river's far side.\\n\\nDrem exploded from the trees onto a grassy verge, sloping down to the silt and reeds of the riverbank.\\n\\nThe half-breed was rising, swaying erratically in the air, lurching towards the river. Drem skidded to a halt, breathing great blasts of mist into the cold air as he watched the half-breed fly ever higher into the grey sky, hoping that her injured wing would fail her and she would plummet back down to the ground.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She flew beyond the bank, out over the river.\\n\\nFootsteps drumming behind him and Cullen staggered out from the trees, ran on past Drem, down the slope towards the river. Drem saw Cullen's hand fumble at his belt, unclipping a folded net, a lead-weighted ball stitched to each corner. The half-breed was at least twenty paces out and up from him as Cullen reached the water's edge. She saw the warrior, gave him a hate-filled snarl, then saw him raise the net over his head, swinging it in looping circles, the lead balls humming through the air.\\n\\nThe half-breed's expression changed, a twisted flash of fear and she turned in the air, wings beating harder, a grunt of pain.\\n\\nCullen threw the net.\\n\\nIt whistled through the air, rising up, fast and high, reached the apex of its flight and the net opened, lead balls spreading, dragging it down, folding perfectly around the half-breed, the weights spinning around an ankle, a wrist, snaring her wings. She struggled fora weightless moment, then with a despairing cry she tumbled from the air, crashed into the river in an explosion of crystal-cold foam.\\n\\nThe creature disappeared, submerged. Drem, staring, saw her come up twenty or thirty paces downriver, carried by the fast-flowing current. She bobbed on the water, trussed and struggling.\\n\\nCullen strode into the water, but almost immediately it rose too deep. Drem ran to his side, splashing into the icy-cold.\\n\\nThe half-breed was carried along, sinking and rising, spluttering and gasping, bound tight in the net's grip, and then she was gone, the river sweeping her around a bend.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Cullen looked at Drem, blood dripping from his lip; he cuffed away more from a cut above his eye.\\n\\n\\\"Hope the bitch drowns,\\\" Cullen said, and spat blood into the water.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha looked up through a mesh of branches at the purpling sky, the sun a red line across the western peaks of the Bonefells as day relinquished its grip upon the world.\\n\\nWhere is Morn?\\n\\nIt was the third day since Fritha had fought the draig, since Drem and his companions had escaped her by leaping into a river.\\n\\nSince Gunil found my egg.\\n\\nA shiver of excitement at that thought, banishing fora few moments her unease about Morn's absence and her vexation at Drem's escape. It was quick to return.\\n\\nShe should be back by now. I warned her only to scout. To find Drem and then return tome, so that she could lead me to them. I thought Morn had learned her lesson, understood that she would not achieve her revenge alone, without my help.\\n\\n\\\"What should I do?\\\" she whispered to herself. \\\"Stay and wait for Morn?\\\"\\n\\nBut everyday here is a day behind Drem, or a day away from the cause. Should I continue my pursuit of Drem?\\n\\nShe swore at the first stars that winked into life, then turned on her heel and marched back to her camp. Her leg ached, a wound across her thigh; ragged rather than a neat cut, it was most likely from the draig's claws.\\n\\nArn had cleaned and stitched it for her. A stab of worry at the thought of him, knowing he was sat at vigil with Elise. Fritha quickened her pace. She felt the presence of a Feral close by, loping in the darkness.\\n\\nAh, my babies are protective of me. The thought gave her a warm feeling.\\n\\nThey had buried their dead and then moved a short way from the draig lair, carrying their injured far enough to escape the hideous stench of the draig dung. Fritha walked through the sentry line, glimpsed one of her people standing guard, his shadow merged with a tree. Deeper within the boundary of their camp, Fritha saw the outline of Gunil in the gloom, standing with the shadowed bulk that was Claw. He was tending to the bear's wounds. Fritha wasn't sure the animal would survive-some of its injuries were leaking pus and starting to smell bad.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It will be a grievous loss to the cause, if it dies, she thought. She shrugged and moved on, towards a flicker of flame.\\n\\nThey'd dug afire-pit, a dozen men and women ringed around it, hands warming on bowls of broth, their breath a mist in the air.\\n\\nA crude hide tent had been erected close to the fire-pit. Fritha nodded a greeting to those around the fire, then stepped into the tent.\\n\\nShe saw Arn kneeling beside a prone form, his dark hair shaved short, his silvering beard neat and braided, as always. He looked up at her as she entered, his eyes pleading.\\n\\n\\\"Any change?\\\" Fritha asked him. She received a curt shake of his head in answer as she joined him and knelt beside Elise.\\n\\n\\\"Help her,\\\" Arn said.\\n\\n\\\"I have tried,\\\" Fritha muttered, feeling a twist of emotions in her belly. Fear, that she would lose her friend-and they were few and far between. Shame, that she was not skilled enough to work a healing; and annoyance, at Arn, at Elise, at herself, that this should bring her lack of ability so unpleasantly to light.\\n\\nShe stroked Elise's cheek, slick with sweat, remembering the time Arn and Elise had cared for her, when they had found her slumped on the blood-soaked ground, her dead baby in her lap.\\n\\nI owe her.\\n\\nFritha began methodically checking over Elise's wounds. Her ribs had been manipulated back into position and a collection of broken bones had been splinted where possible-right arm broken above the elbow, both of her legs broken in multiple places.\\n\\nShattered is a more appropriate word. Even if I save her, I do not know if she will ever be able to walk again.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But it was the internal injuries that worried Fritha most. Elise was coughing blood and her breath was shallow and erratic. Probably from when the draig had struck her in the chest with its tail, snapping ribs and bruising her lungs. There were a number of other possibilities, all of them worse. Internal bleeding highest on the list.\\n\\n\\\"Look what you are capable of doing, what you have accomplished so far,\\\" Arn whispered. \\\"The Ferals, Gulla, Revenants...\\\" He stared at her, dark eyes desperate.\\n\\n\\\"I will try again,\\\" Fritha murmured.\\n\\nShe unlaced a leather vambrace from her forearm, pulled the wool tunic back to bare her arm, and drew a knife from her belt. The blade hovered over her pale flesh and she closed her eyes...\\n\\nShe remembered a woman's face, severe, hard lines and scars. Afresh cut along one cheek, blood scabbing. A warrior, an empty scabbard at her hip, an iron cloak-brooch fashioned in the shape of a four-pointed star. She was sitting against a tree, chained to it, her hands bound in her lap. Fritha had stood before her.\\n\\n\\\"Tell me your secrets,\\\" Fritha had said.\\n\\nThe woman had just returned her gaze, strength and defiance in her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"You will tell me everything,\\\" Fritha had said, drawing a knife.\\n\\nThe same knife she held now.\\n\\n\\\"Fola agus focail chumhachta, ceangail an fheoil seo, leigheas an cnámh seo,\\\" Fritha breathed now as she drew the knife across her forearm, blood welling in a dark line. \\\"Fola agus focail chumhachta, ceangail an fheoil seo, leigheas an cnámh seo,\\\" she repeated as she turned her arm and held it over Elise, raising her elbow so that the blood trickled down to her hand, gathering into a droplet on one fingertip, fat and heavy, and dripping into Elise's mouth, another drop on her lips, another, and another as Fritha breathed the words over and over. A sharp wind blew into the tent, swirled around them, sounding like whispered voices.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Elise sucked in a deep breath, her back arching, eyes bulging, and then along, stuttered sigh, her body relaxing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Her breath seemed a little stronger, a little steadier.\\n\\nArn grabbed Fritha's hand.\\n\\n\\\"Thank you,\\\" he said.\\n\\nFritha gave him a wan smile.\\n\\n\\\"It has helped, but I am not a healer,\\\" she said. \\\"I wish now that I had questioned the Bright Star warrior more, and for longer. As it was, to learn this much I put her to the question for three days. But I was focused on other matters. I wanted to create things. But healing...\\\" She shrugged. \\\"Let us see how she responds to this.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She will be well. I know she will,\\\" Arn said, stroking his daughter's brow. He looked up at Fritha. \\\"What is your plan?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am torn,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"Drem and the others could be leagues away by now, so we may never catch them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And is there any point, now?\\\" Arn asked. \\\"The goal was to catch them quickly, before they could send word to Dun Seren.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Fritha grunted.\\n\\n\\\"Their crow, it was not with them,\\\" Arn said.\\n\\n\\\"I know,\\\" Fritha snapped. \\\"Which means they've most likely sent it ahead of them, to warn that bitch, Byrne.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We should go back to Gulla, then,\\\" Arn said.\\n\\nNot a pleasant prospect. He doesn't react well to failure. I do have the draig egg, though...\\n\\n\\\"There are reasons to continue our pursuit,\\\" Fritha said quietly. \\\"Drem shouted a name during the fight, before the draig appeared.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I heard,\\\" Arn said. \\\"Cullen.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye. Who would have thought that cocky child was Corban's descendant? A prize indeed, if we took him prisoner.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Arn shrugged. \\\"If we can find them again, if we can catch up with them, if we can take him alive. A lot of ifs.\\\"\\n\\nYes, but the glory and honour of returning with Corban's descendant. It would be worth the risk.\\n\\n\\\"And the huntsman,\\\" Fritha continued. \\\"Did you hear him speaking the Old Tongue, using the earth power? He turned his blood to fire.\\\"\\n\\nAn indrawn breath from Arn.\\n\\n\\\"I would like very much to take him alive and put him to the question,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"We both know how few of the Order are taught the old ways of blood and bone.\\\" She looked at Elise, glanced quickly at Arn. \\\"He could be skilled at healing. The Order value that.\\\"\\n\\nShe could almost hear Arn's mind focusing on that word, healing, and clinging to that shred of hope.\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps we should continue our pursuit, then,\\\" Arn said. \\\"But what of Morn? We need her. And she is Gulla's daughter.\\\"\\n\\nHe left the rest unsaid. Fritha knew if Morn was lost, Gulla's wrath would be great indeed. She breathed deep, straightening her shoulders. She knew what she had to do, just did not want to admit it.\\n\\n\\\"I hope that Morn returns to us. But if she is not hereby the time we have broken our fast on the morrow, then we must move on. I will need to speak with Gulla.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He will not be happy,\\\" Arn said.\\n\\n\\\"I am not happy,\\\" Fritha snapped. She calmed herself. \\\"Death smiles at us all,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"All that we can do is smile back,\\\" Arn replied, repeating their mantra, something they had said a thousand times to each other since the day they had first met. The day the Ben-Elim had come.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha nodded, her thoughts already elsewhere.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She squeezed Elise's hand and made her way to the back of the tent, lifted up a fur hide to reveal what lay beneath.\\n\\nThe draig egg.\\n\\nFritha crouched beside it, stroked it gently with her palm.\\n\\nI can feel you stirring, my baby, she thought.\\n\\nSoon.\\n\\nShe rose and left.\\n\\nFritha shared a bowl of broth with her warriors around the fire. A pile of bones, teeth and claws were heaped close to the fire, and the draig's skin was staked out where it had been scraped of flesh and fat.\\n\\nIt will make a score of cloaks and boots.\\n\\nThen Fritha stood and paced into the shadows, finding a handful of her Ferals gathered together in a huddle, a weave of limbs and fur, the glint of teeth in the dappled starlight. The others had been sent out as guardians, their noses, ears and eyes making them far better than any human sentry. Some were sleeping, but they stirred and looked up at Fritha as she approached.\\n\\n\\\"Don't getup, my children,\\\" she crooned as she reached them, crouching and stroking the jutting brow of one. He looked at her and whined.\\n\\n\\\"We'll find them soon,\\\" Fritha said, knowing that the Ferals did not really care; they were guided by much baser instincts: hunger, thirst, a pack mentality. But they were faithful and true to her; if she wanted something done, so did they.\\n\\nFritha lay down with them, felt them shift to curl around her, their warmth seeping into her, a barrier that sent the winter's chill fleeing. The smell wasn't too good, Fritha had to admit, musty, damp fur and sweat, but it was a fair bargain for being warm and feeling safe, protected. Even loved, and that was a feeling that Fritha hadn't known fora very longtime.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She closed her eyes.\\n\\nFritha raised her hand, calling a halt.\\n\\nShe was standing on the slope of a hill, looking east onto the great plain of the Desolation that opened up before her, jagged and scarred. Snow had softened the fissured landscape, giving it an endless, undulating appearance. It was late in the day, Fritha having set her pace by the injured bear and those carrying the wounded on stretchers.\\n\\nHere and thereon the plain she saw pinpricks of light marking isolated holds. Her eyes fixed on the closest one, roughly two or three leagues from her position.\\n\\nThat will do.\\n\\nWith a gesture, she started her small column moving, picking away down the slope, through wind-blasted pines in the failing light as dusk settled around them.\\n\\nMorn had not come, and so Fritha had made the decision to move out. Waiting was achieving nothing, only allowing Drem to widen the gap between them. She had made her decision, knew that she wanted to catch them; she could not turn her back and walkaway from the lure of the huntsman's knowledge and power and the prize that was the young Cullen. But she could not build rafts and follow them down the river; they could not fashion a raft big enough to safely take Gunil's bear, so Fritha made the decision to travel by land, which meant back-tracking on their route and attempting to find new paths through the Bonefells that would lead them back to the river.\\n\\nShe was concerned about Morn but knew that if the half-breed was alive and found her way back to the draig lair, she would have no great difficulties in tracking Fritha.\\n\\nIt had taken her most of the day to lead her dwindling, battered survivors to the ravine where Drem and his companions had fooled them and changed their course, but since then they had made better time, the sharp gullies and ravines of the Bonefells shifting to the foothills that bordered the mountains.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha was deeply aware that she was losing time, that each moment was allowing Drem to widen the gap between them, but there was nothing that she could do about that right now, and as annoyed and vexed as she was about it, she was ever the pragmatist.\\n\\nAnd besides, there is something else that I must do.\\n\\nI need to communicate with Gulla, and for that I require certain... ingredients.\\n\\nFritha crept through the snow, slow and steady, minimizing the crunch of each frozen step, until she reached the post-and-rail fence of a paddock, marking the boundary of the hold.\\n\\nSilent as smoke, she slipped between the rails and moved into the paddock, Arn a shadow behind her, a deeper darkness behind him that was Gunil. Fritha knew that her people were doing the same all around the hold, edging closer, like wolven stalking an unsuspecting elk. Fritha had commanded her Ferals to stay further out in a loose circle around the hold.\\n\\nShe needed people taken alive.\\n\\nA building loomed and Fritha pressed tight against it, took a few moments to listen. From the smell and sounds, it was a stable. She leaned out from the shadows, saw two ponies and a thick-boned plough-horse. Beyond the stable was a courtyard, snow glistening like crystals in the starlight. It was bordered by outbuildings-a barn, a chicken coop, a pig-pen. A few goats roamed free. At the courtyard's head was a small feast-hall, snow thick on the turf-covered roof. Light glimmered through shuttered windows, and Fritha heard the murmur of conversation.\\n\\nThere was a small gap between the stable and the feast-hall, Fritha slipping across, climbing the few steps that raised the feast-hall from the ground, Arn behind her, Gunil remaining in the darkness of the stable.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A shadow on the porch before the hall's doors shifted, and then a hound was standing, growling and barking.\\n\\nArn stepped around Fritha, took half a dozen steps and put his spear in its chest; growls turned to a high-pitched whine, cut short.\\n\\nThe doors flew open, a dark silhouette with a tangle of beard, standing in a moment's frozen shock. Arn tugged on his spear, trying to turn, but the blade was snagged in the dog's corpse.\\n\\nShouts and footsteps came from inside the hall.\\n\\nThe silhouette threw himself at Arn, the two of them stumbling over the hound's body and going down in a snarl of limbs.\\n\\nAnother figure burst from the hall, a woman, lean and wiry. Fritha slammed her spear-butt into the woman's head. She dropped sprawling to the ground and didn't move. Arn and his attacker rolled down the steps to the courtyard, but before Fritha could reach them she was attacked by another figure rushing from the hall, a gangly youth swinging a wood-axe at her. She blocked and retreated, blocked and retreated, resisting the opportunities to stab into his throat or belly.\\n\\nThen Gunil was there, a fist clubbing the lad across his shoulders, and he was on the ground, too.\\n\\nArn was stood over his assailant, who was kneeling on slush-churned ground, a handful of Fritha's crew around him, spears levelled.\\n\\n\\\"Bind them,\\\" Fritha said.\\n\\nShe strode into the hall, saw afire-pit with a pot hanging over it, a few stools and chairs around it. An old woman was sitting in one. She held out a knife as Fritha approached.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I'll not stand and knife-fight you as I would have once,\\\" the woman said, \\\"but I'll give you a cut or two 'fore you take me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm sure you would, grandmother,\\\" Fritha said, dipping her head respectfully, \\\"but it would be better for me, and for your kin, if you just drop the knife. I don't want to hurt them, just need the use of your hall for the night.\\\" She stood in front of the old lady, out of knife range, and rested her spear-button the ground. Fritha knew she could just skewer the old woman where she sat.\\n\\nBehind Fritha her crew were entering the hall, dragging their captives.\\n\\n\\\"No harm will come to them?\\\" the woman said.\\n\\n\\\"They will all live through this night, you have my oath,\\\" Fritha said.\\n\\nThe woman nodded and dropped the blade.\\n\\n\\\"A wise choice,\\\" Fritha said. She turned to Arn. \\\"Take them to the barn, light afire for them so they don't freeze.\\\"\\n\\nArn nodded and left, the captives herded with them.\\n\\n\\\"What about my mother?\\\" the one who had attacked Arn called, a thickset man with a heavy beard.\\n\\n\\\"She and I have things to talk about,\\\" Fritha said. She felt sympathy for these people, knew that they had likely come north into the Desolation to escape the rule of the Ben-Elim. They were not the enemy.\\n\\nBut these are hard times, and hard decisions must oft be made.\\n\\n\\\"Take them away,\\\" Fritha said with a wave of her hand. She inspected the contents of the pot: mutton stew, by the smell of it. She gave it astir with a ladle, offered some to the old woman, who shook her head, and then scooped herself a bowlful. She sat on a stool and shuffled closer to the old woman.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"A hard life for you, herein the Desolation,\\\" Fritha said.\\n\\n\\\"Hard times all round,\\\" the old woman said suspiciously. \\\"Just different kinds of hard. The Desolation isn't so bad.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" grunted Fritha, sipping from the bowl. It was greasy and watery but tasted as fine a meal as Fritha could remember right now. \\\"Freedom's worth much,\\\" she said, watching the grandmother.\\n\\n\\\"True enough.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Ben-Elim?\\\" Fritha said.\\n\\nAfter along hard stare, the old woman nodded.\\n\\n\\\"I've heard talk of the Ben-Elim's flesh tithe,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"They wanted your grandson?\\\"\\n\\nAlong sigh. \\\"Aye, they did. We were not of a mind to give him up, like coin in some kind of tax.\\\" The old woman spat into the fire.\\n\\nFritha nodded, understanding. She wished she had time, knew that the Desolation was filling with people like this, with grudges against the Ben-Elim. But time was no longer a luxury that she and Gulla had. Not with Drem likely only a ten-night away from Dun Seren, and his cursed talking crow closer than that.\\n\\nStill, she felt that she had to try.\\n\\n\\\"They'll come here, too,\\\" Fritha said.\\n\\n\\\"Maybe, maybe not,\\\" the woman said.\\n\\n\\\"They will,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"And soon. You could stand against them, fight them. You and your kin.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fight the Ben-Elim and their White-Wings?\\\" The woman snorted. \\\"Hah. I am no coward, but I am no fool, either. That way's a quick path to an iron-edged death.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There are others that would fight the Ben-Elim. You could join them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who?\\\" the woman said, eyes narrowing suspiciously.\\n\\n\\\"The Kadoshim,\\\" Fritha said.\\n\\n\\\"Are you a madwoman?\\\" the grandmother said. \\\"They are worse than the Ben-Elim. Why fight for them?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll wager all that you've ever heard of the Kadoshim has come from the mouth or quill of the Ben-Elim. Who has ever spoken highly of their enemy?\\\" Fritha shook her head. \\\"The Kadoshim are not the monsters that the Ben-Elim make them out to be. They would not be the masters of the Banished Lands, it is just the defeat of the Ben-Elim that they strive for. When the war is won they will share their power, and they will remember those who help them achieve that goal.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're insane,\\\" the woman hissed. \\\"You would have me trade one tyrant for another. No, better to come here, to leave them to their scrapping and start anew life. A hard life, aye, but a free one.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Free today, but for how long?\\\" Fritha said. \\\"You think the Ben-Elim will not come here? Of course they will, maybe not this moon, nor the next, but soon. Before your grandson is a man, is my guess.\\\"\\n\\nThe old woman scowled at her.\\n\\n\\\"Why do you fight for them, then?\\\"\\n\\nFritha looked at the old woman, saw a genuine question in her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"Because the Ben-Elim killed my baby,\\\" Fritha whispered, choosing to tell the truth.\\n\\nFootsteps. Fritha knew from the way the floorboards shook that it was Gunil.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The way the grandmother's eyes widened as she looked over Fritha's shoulder also gave Fritha the same answer.\\n\\n\\\"What monsters have you brought into my hold?\\\" The old woman spat out a curse.\\n\\n\\\"War makes monsters of us all,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"And the trouble with war is that it follows you. Sometimes there's no escaping it. Sometimes the only choice is to choose which side you stand on.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My son and his wife, my grandson,\\\" the grandmother said, eyes fixed on Gunil, who was towering over Fritha now, as he examined the contents of the pot over the fire-pit. \\\"You swore they would live.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They will,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"I can't just leave them here, though. They will come with me and choose aside. You, though, grandmother, you are not up to the journey. And I did not swear to keep you safe.\\\"\\n\\nFritha shook her head, leaning forward and patting the old woman's hand. She felt a wave of sympathy for this woman, a sadness at what she had to do.\\n\\n\\\"I am sorry,\\\" Fritha said, \\\"but I need your face.\\\" And, faster than a blink, she drew her knife and stabbed the old woman in the throat.\\n\\nFritha sliced her knife across her palm and squeezed her hand into a fist, letting the blood flow and drip into a small iron bowl she'd set on a table. Beyond it was a wooden frame she'd quickly crafted, four hooks in each corner. Attached to these hooks was the skinned face of the old woman she'd just killed, stretched out across the frame, hanging loose like an empty sail. Globs of fat and blood still dripped from it. The dead woman's body lay cast upon the ground. Out of the corner of her eye Fritha saw a rat scurry from the shadows and start nibbling at the meat exposed beneath the hastily skinned face. She ignored it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Glacaim liom anois, Gulla, aingeal dubh, agus tríd an fhuil,\\\" Fritha chanted as she dripped her blood into the bowl. It rippled as if some hidden wyrm were uncoiling within it.\\n\\n\\\"Glacaim liom anois, Gulla, aingeal dubh, agus tríd an fhuil,\\\" she repeated, louder. The skin stretched upon the frame twitched and spasmed. Although the doors had been closed and barred, the windows tightly shuttered, a cold wind blew through the room, sending the flames in the fire-pit dancing and hissing, making shadows dance. Behind her, Fritha heard Gunil grunt.\\n\\n\\\"Glacaim liom anois, Gulla, aingeal dubh, agus tríd an fhuil,\\\" Fritha said for the third time, and the skin on the frame shifted, filling as if a breeze moved it, then more violently, the mouth jerking, opening, the cheeks filling, changing shape, and the eyes sparking to red life.\\n\\n\\\"Fritha,\\\" a voice rasped from the animated skin, Gulla's voice. \\\"What do you want? I am busy.\\\"\\n\\nFritha drew in a deep breath.\\n\\nLittle point worrying about a thing. Best just to say it.\\n\\n\\\"Morn is missing, and Drem and his companions are likely going to reach Dun Seren. Even if we catch them, the crow that took your eye is no longer with them. I think it likely they've sent it on ahead to take word of you to Byrne.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What!\\\" The face snarled, grating like iron scraping over a cairn-stone. A smell of decay wafted from the mouth of the skinned visage.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha repeated her words. \\\"I am sorry, Lord,\\\" she added.\\n\\n\\\"Gunil?\\\" Gulla's voice asked.\\n\\n\\\"I am here,\\\" the giant said. He was looking at the rat, still feasting upon the dead woman's skinless face.\\n\\n\\\"Report,\\\" Gulla ordered.\\n\\n\\\"Things have not gone well.\\\" Gunil shrugged. \\\"My Claw has been wounded.\\\"\\n\\nIs that all he cares about? Fritha scowled.\\n\\n\\\"By a draig,\\\" Fritha added. \\\"We have sustained casualties. Drem and the two Order warriors escaped by leaping into a river while we fought the draig.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And my daughter?\\\" Gulla growled.\\n\\n\\\"She went out scouting four days ago and has not returned.\\\"\\n\\nThe skinned face scowled, not a pleasant expression. Fritha controlled the urge to shudder.\\n\\nGunil raised afoot and stamped on the rat. Bones crunched.\\n\\n\\\"The Order are likely to hear of our presence at the Starstone Lake,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"Of the sword, of you...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I understand the implications,\\\" Gulla snapped. \\\"I am not ready yet, have more to do.\\\" A silence. The red eyes shifted and flickered. \\\"We will have to speedup the plan. There is nothing else we can do. I shall send forth the Seven.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are able to do that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye. We have turned half a thousand already, from Kergard and the surrounding holds. I wanted more before I sent out my Seven, but...\\\" The face twitched, a movement like wind blowing across a sail.\\n\\n\\\"I will send them into the Land of the Faithful,\\\" he said. A fierce shifting of his mouth, a ghastly parody of a smile.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What of our allies in the south?\\\" Fritha asked.\\n\\n\\\"I will send word to the Shekam also, but this maybe too soon for them.\\\" A snarl rippled across the skinned face. \\\"A hundred years in the planning, and now there is no time. Because of a talking crow.\\\"\\n\\nPlans are wonderful things until they go wrong, Fritha thought. Which they always do. She held her tongue, though, and remained silent as the parody of Gulla's features twisted in rage.\\n\\n\\\"Your numbers,\\\" Gulla eventually said, \\\"and, where are you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thirty of us,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"We are at a hold at the southern tip of the Bonefells; likely thirty leagues from Dun Seren.\\\"\\n\\nAnother silence, the jaws of the animated skin opening and closing, as if Gulla were gnashing his teeth.\\n\\n\\\"You must return tome. You carry the Starstone Sword and you're too close to Dun Seren. We cannot risk it falling into the hands of the Order of the Bright Star.\\\"\\n\\nFritha hated to fail at a task, and she longed to take Drem and his companions prisoner, just so that she could drag them back to Gulla and cast them at his feet.\\n\\nShe muttered a curse to herself.\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" Gulla's voice said.\\n\\n\\\"There are reasons to continue the pursuit,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"One of them, the huntsman, knows the earth power. He spoke the old words, melted the faces from a handful of my people. And the young one, he is Cullen, descendant of Corban.\\\"\\n\\nThe skinned face creased as Gulla frowned. \\\"Two valuable prizes.\\\" The lips moved, a sibilant hiss. \\\"One with the closely guarded secrets of the Order, the other atrophy to crush their spirit and raise our own. I remember that Corban.\\\" Gulla spat the words like a poison. \\\"The worm that dared stand against our king.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He slew Calidus, Asroth's chosen commander, the legends tell,\\\" Fritha said, intrigued to hear a Kadoshim speak of those days.\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Gulla grunted, \\\"through trickery. Calidus was a fool.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To capture his grandchild would be a great triumph, my Lord. One that you could proclaim to your kin. Something to set against the blow of being forced to move sooner than planned.\\\"\\n\\nGulla's face twitched and snarled.\\n\\n\\\"Hunt them a little longer,\\\" he breathed.\\n\\n\\\"As you command, my Lord,\\\" Fritha said.\\n\\n\\\"Good. Do not fail me.\\\" With along, exhaled sigh like the rattle before death, the skinned face deflated, sagging in its framework.\\n\\nFritha set to taking it apart, packing it away into a small wooden chest she'd found in the hall. She folded the skinned face and wrapped it in apiece of linen, putting it into the chest on top of the frame andiron bowl.\\n\\nA fist pounded on the door and Fritha turned, swept up her spear.\\n\\nGunil strode to the doors and lifted off the bar he'd set across it. Arn was there, his arm around a figure half-slumped against him.\\n\\nIt was Morn.\\n\\nShe was wet and bedraggled, ice glistening in the hair on her stubbled head, and one of her wings drooped at an odd angle. Something was draped about her, a tattered net snared in one wing and arm, wrapped around her leg.\\n\\nArn half led her, half dragged her into the hall, Gunil taking the half-breed in his thick arms.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Morn lifted her head and looked at Fritha.\\n\\n\\\"I've found them,\\\" the half-breed said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Some help here,\\\" Cullen said, pointing to a pot hanging over a small fire. They were sitting within their rough-made tent, a screen of hide blankets and cloaks stitched together and tied to coppiced branches, afire-pit scraped into the hard earth.\\n\\nDrem stood, wincing as the knife-cut along his waistline rubbed, scabs cracking, and the stitches in his back and arm pulled.\\n\\nI hope she drowned, Drem thought, echoing Cullen's words at the riverside. Three days had passed since the half-breed had fallen into the river, and there had been no sight or sound of her or Fritha's acolytes. So the likelihood was she had drowned.\\n\\nAnd good riddance.\\n\\nThe knowledge that they needed to move seeped through Drem, making him anxious and fidgety. But he also knew they could not leave. Keld was in the grip of a fever, and Hammer was slumped outside, unable or refusing to walk.\\n\\nOur only option is to leave them, which I won't do. I hope that Rab has reached Dun Seren.\\n\\nCullen passed a branch through the handle of the pot and they both lifted it, carrying it away from the fire. Dappled starlight lit their way as they walked a dozen paces beneath the shelter of pine trees towards the prostrate form of Hammer. The bear lifted her heavy head from her paws and looked at them, a morose growl rumbling in her belly.\\n\\n\\\"Here you go, girl,\\\" Cullen said as they placed the pot in front of the bear. She sniffed it and looked away.\\n\\n\\\"That won't do,\\\" Cullen said, squatting before her and using a ladle as a spoon, scooping a thick, porridge-like substance from the pot and lifting it to the bear's lips.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"She usually loves brot,\\\" Cullen whispered over his shoulder to Drem, his voice heavy with worry.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Can't get enough of the stuff.\\\"\\n\\nDrem checked the numerous bandages about the bear, applied more honey and compresses to the bear's many injuries, a multitude of claw marks and puncture wounds. None smelled bad or leaked pus, which was something, though Drem feared that the bear would never walk properly again. He'd checked the bones in her shoulder where he'd seen the giant strike her with his great war-hammer, and from what he could tell nothing seemed broken, but since Hammer had pulled and clawed her way out of the river and onto this riverbank, she had taken her weight for only a few score seconds or so. Rising briefly to stagger across the shingle bank, up higher onto a grassy slope and into the cover of these towering pine trees, and then a little further to collapse against a granite boulder. She had not stood since then, even during the half-breed's attack, despite every effort to encourage her from Cullen and Drem.\\n\\nCullen managed to spoon a few ladles of brot into Hammer's mouth, and Drem stroked her neck, felt her swallow once. They persevered, tried to give her more, but Hammer just lay her head down on her paws and gave out what sounded like along, rumbling groan, almost like a sigh.\\n\\nHas she given up? Pining for Sig, and now her injuries and exhaustion on top of that grief.\\n\\n\\\"That'll have to do for now,\\\" Cullen said dejectedly. He rubbed Hammer's furry cheek and stood. They made their way back to their shelter and hung the pot back over the fire, Cullen stirring its contents. When it started to bubble again he filled two bowls and passed one to Drem.\\n\\n\\\"Eat it while it's still warm,\\\" Cullen said. \\\"And trust me when I say it doesn't get to taste any better when it's cold.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Drem sniffed it.\\n\\nThe brot was as thick as porridge, though it tasted more of earth and bark than hot oats. After his first taste Drem had declined, but Cullen had insisted, claiming it was made by giants and would fill and sustain him far longer than any other meal.\\n\\nStarving hunger had eventually convinced Drem to eat it. Cullen had been right: Drem had felt strengthened and fortified, the effects lasting far longer than he would have expected, though he'd been tempted to add some of their small supply of honey to help it go down better, but they were saving that for the treatment of the many wounds they seemed to be collecting.\\n\\nKeld lay within their shelter, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in what looked like sleep. He was thick with sweat, his skin mottled and patchy, a lump the size of an egg on the back of his head, his chest criss-crossed with claw marks from the Feral that had felled him. Drem and Cullen had cleaned the wounds, but on the second day they had turned angry and inflamed, by the third day had started weeping thick yellow pus. On the fourth day Drem had thought Keld was going to die, but then something had turned in him, and by the fifth day the fluid leaking from Keld's wounds was clear. His fever had lessened, though it was not beaten yet. Keld's head cast about and he murmured something, a word breathed from cracked lips.\\n\\n\\\"Fen.\\\"\\n\\nDrem felt a deep guilt at leaving the wolven-hound behind. Cullen had slung the unconscious form of Keld over his shoulder and run for the river, Hammer limping and lumbering after him, and Drem had run to the hound, a pile of fur at the base of a tree where the draig had thrown it. Fen was breathing, but Drem could not get the animal to stand. He'd tried to lift the wolven-hound and had managed to raise him into his arms, a prodigious feat, as the animal weighed the rough equivalent of a pony. Fen had snapped at him, whined with the pain. Drem was no weakling, in fact men had picked fights with him because of his size and freakish strength, but a score of paces and Drem's back and legs were crumpling. He'd been unable to goon, had tried calling to Cullen and Hammer, but they were out of earshot and couldn't hear him over the din of the draig and giant bear anyway, and there was no time to get them and comeback for the wolven-hound, so he'd veered into the trees and laid Fen down behind a fallen rotted tree. A rib-bone was protruding through the wolven-hound's side. Drem put one hand on the bone, another on the hound's side, and pushed, trying to manipulate the bone back into place. He'd got a snapping growl and a half-hearted bite for it, but with a click the bone slotted back into place.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I'm sorry, lad,\\\" Drem said, \\\"but I can't carry you.\\\" He heaped a mound of litter over the wolven-hound, then ran for the river and Cullen.\\n\\nThe guilt of it lay heavily upon him.\\n\\nCullen checked Keld, wiped his brow tenderly with a damp cloth, his eyes creased with worry.\\n\\n\\\"Comeback tome, Keld,\\\" Drem heard Cullen whisper. \\\"I cannot lose you, too.\\\" A teardrop dripped from the young warrior's nose and he sniffed and cuffed more tears away.\\n\\n\\\"Can you not do... something?\\\" Drem asked, thinking of how Keld had revealed the runes upon his seax. And of how his father Olin had forged the Starstone Sword, chanting words of power.\\n\\n\\\"What do you mean?\\\" Cullen said, frowning. \\\"I've done all I can think of.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I mean, the earth power. Keld made the runes appear on my seax. Can you not help Keld's healing?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Order does not spoon out the earth power like brot, more's the pity,\\\" Cullen said glumly. \\\"Only a few are invited to learn. It is a great honour, a privilege, and we must be sure you can handle the responsibility of that power,\\\" he added in a high-pitched voice, as if he mimicked someone else's speech. \\\"Apparently, I am not deemed responsible, yet,\\\" Cullen muttered.\\n\\nDrem spooned brot into his mouth, forcing himself to swallow.\\n\\n\\\"There are worse ways to stay alive.\\\" Cullen grinned at him as he ate his own bowl of steaming brot with apparent gusto. Shockingly, and remarkably, Cullen had escaped the fight at the draig den almost completely unscathed. A few scratches, a bruise on his shoulder, but nothing more serious. Drem had needed stitching on the cut Fritha had given him on his forearm, as well as the deep gouges across his back from a Feral's claws. The knife-cut from the half-breed along his waist was the shallowest, but also the one that hurt the most, almost every movement pulling and rubbing at the scabbing wound.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"We should leave here soon.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Should have left days ago. But how can we, with Keld still unable to walk? Cullen and I could build a litter and carry him, but we would be so slow, Fritha and her beasts would be upon us in no time. It's amazing that they haven't found us already. We need Hammer to carry Keld out of here, if only she would try and stand. It seems that she's lost the will to live.\\n\\n\\\"I can't leave Keld or Hammer behind,\\\" Cullen said fiercely, as if reading Drem's thoughts. \\\"I've known them all my life, spent most of my days in their company. They're close tome as kin.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'd not ask you to,\\\" Drem said. \\\"Somethings are more important than breathing a little longer.\\\" His thoughts drifted to his da, Olin, the only constant he had ever known in his life-a stab of pain in his belly, grief, like a leviathan stirring. All of his life Drem could only remember his father, and that had been enough for him. He had loved the brief mentions of his mam, longed to hear more of her, and in the last year he had become more and more agitated at his father's reticence to tell Drem of his past. In the end Olin had, and Drem understood now why it had been such a closely guarded secret. He wished that he'd had more time to spend with Olin after he had heard the truth from his father's lips. If anything, it had made them closer, Drem hearing how Olin's whole life had been dedicated to keeping Drem safe.\\n\\nHe blinked, banishing tears that threatened to rise.\\n\\nHe looked at Cullen, so young, only eighteen summers old, and yet he had seen so much, was so skilled with a blade.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Though that is hardly surprising, given his lineage. Cullen was the great-grandson of Corban, greatest hero of the Banished Lands.\\n\\n\\\"Do you remember my mam and da?\\\" Drem asked Cullen.\\n\\n\\\"Ach, no,\\\" Cullen said. \\\"I was barely two summers old when the Battle of Varan's Fall and all that happened with the Ben-Elim occurred.\\\" He shrugged. \\\"I felt as if I knew them, though, for all the tales that are told about them. Fine warriors, the both of them, but your mam, she was a terror, if Sig spoke true-and Sig always spoke true, even when the truth would cut like a blade.\\\" He smiled, a weight of memory behind the expression.\\n\\n\\\"I only know what anyone at the Order knows,\\\" Cullen continued. \\\"That the Ben-Elim wanted you as award, because your mam was sister to Byrne, our high captain. Olin stole you away from the Order, both to save you and to prevent a war between the Order and the Ben-Elim. A brave man, your da, that's what Sig said.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He was.\\\" Drem sighed, thinking of how Olin had kept him safe, moving, living a solitary life.\\n\\nDa wasn't just my kin, he was my only friend.\\n\\n\\\"What of Byrne, my aunt?\\\" Drem asked. It felt strange saying that out loud. For all of his life Drem had not known of any kin related to him beyond his father and his dead mother. And Byrne was High Captain of the Order of the Bright Star, descended from Cywen, Corban's sister.\\n\\n\\\"Ah, now there's a warrior. Not to look at, not like Sig, where you just knew crossing blades with her would end badly. Byrne, though, she looks...\\\" He paused and thought, tapping a tooth. \\\"Ordinary. She's not, though. I've had more bruises from Byrne in the weapons-field than from anyone else, including Sig. Byrne's adder-fast, and she uses this.\\\" He tapped his forehead. \\\"She's got a sharp tongue on her as well, doesn't suffer fools gladly.\\\" Cullen grimaced, and Drem could tell there was a weight of memory and experience behind that expression, too.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Beyond their shelter, Hammer growled.\\n\\nIna heartbeat Cullen was on his feet and striding out of their shelter into the night, sword hissing into his fist. Drem was a moment behind him, ignoring the pain from his complaining wounds. He drew his seax and stood next to Cullen, staring into the night-black, silvered by starlight.\\n\\nHammer's head was up and she was snuffling the air in great snorts.\\n\\n\\\"Hold your breath, Hammer, I'm trying to listen,\\\" Cullen muttered, eyes scanning the darkness.\\n\\nDrem moved away from the shelter and the soft fire-glow that leaked from the hide entrance, slipping into the tree-dark. He looked up, knew that their shelter was shielded from eyes above by the combination of thick canopy and hide tent. He'd reconnoitred all three of the paths that led away from this spot, knew that only one of them twisted roughly north, in the direction of their last encounter with Fritha.\\n\\nIf they've found us, that will be where they come from.\\n\\nDrem had set a few traps, more as a chance of early warning than in any hope of defeating Fritha and her horrific crew. But as he listened to the coal-black woods he heard nothing.\\n\\nThen...\\n\\nMore a whisper of sound, the hint of a footfall. He strained, trying to hear, to cut through the darkness with eyes and ears. Nothing, and then there it was, again but louder, like a shuffling gait. His eyes snapped towards the sound. A deeper darkness in the gloom formed, the suggestion of movement. Growing larger, closer.\\n\\nDrem crouched, Seax held ready, and Cullen took a step into the darkness, sword gilded in starlight.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A whine.\\n\\nThen Cullen was running forwards and Fen the wolven-hound was limping out of the murk.\\n\\nDrem was only a footstep behind as Cullen dropped to his knees and hugged the wolven-hound, wrapping his arms around the beast's thick neck.\\n\\nDrem felt such a sense of relief that a grin split his face, the weight of their circumstances leaving him fora while.\\n\\n\\\"Ah, but you're a tough one,\\\" Cullen was saying, laughing and crying. \\\"I saw you jump at that draig, you lunatic.\\\"\\n\\nFen gave Cullen a rasping lick on the cheek, but then he was pushing through Cullen's embrace, shaking him off and limping forwards, towards their shelter. Cullen let the wolven-hound go, eyes shining.\\n\\nDrem followed Fen as he limped his way into the shelter. The hound stopped then, took along sniff of the air, head weaving, eyes fastening upon Keld lying beyond the fire-pit. A quickening of his pace and he was beside the huntsman, nudging him, licking him, whining. Keld stirred, muttered something incomprehensible, but did not wake.\\n\\nFen turned in a circle and lay down tight to the unconscious huntsman; with a very human-like sigh he rested his head on the huntsman's hand, and in a handful of heartbeats the wolven-hound was asleep, his deep chest rising and falling.\\n\\n\\\"Ach, with friends like this, how can we ever lose?\\\" Cullen grinned at Drem.\\n\\nDrem smiled back, overwhelmed to seethe wolven-hound, the guilt he had felt at leaving him lifting from his mind.\\n\\nThat hound has a will of iron. Drem remembered how bad his condition had been.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He has had along hard road to find us.\\n\\nThey settled down for the night, Drem taking first watch. He stepped outside their rudimentary shelter and found a pine tree to lean against, pulled tight the bearskin cloak about his shoulders and looked out into the darkness. He rested a hand upon the seax at his belt, loosened the blade in its scabbard, something that was becoming a habit with him. The cold would make the blade stick, and the last thing he wanted was to need his blade and not be able to draw it.\\n\\nSomething was telling him that he might be needing a blade in his hand, all too soon.\\n\\nBecause if Fen could find us, then so can other things.\\n\\nDrem woke to the sound of Fen the wolven-hound urinating up the side of their shelter.\\n\\nI've had better starts to a day.\\n\\nHe rolled over and saw Cullen was banking the fire and setting a pot to bubbling.\\n\\nDrem slipped out from under his blanket as Fen pushed his way through the stitched cloaks that acted as a tent flap and padded over to Keld. He set to licking the huntsman's face, nibbling at his beard as if he were grooming Keld.\\n\\n\\\"Ach, get off,\\\" Keld said, a hand reaching up to attempt a feeble shove. Fen yipped and leaped in a circle, his wagging tail threatening to bring down the tent, began pawing at Keld, crouching and barking, pawing again.\\n\\n\\\"Keld!\\\" Cullen cried, rushing to the huntsman's side.\\n\\nDrem grinned.\\n\\nKeld sat up, rubbing his head.\\n\\n\\\"I'm starving,\\\" he said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Ah, but it's good to have you back with us,\\\" Cullen said to Keld.\\n\\nKeld nodded, said something incomprehensible through a mouthful of brot.\\n\\nDrem was starting to feel a little worried about the huntsman. He knew that half a bowl of the foul-tasting gruel had filled him to bursting and made him feel as if he'd had a stomach full of lead for the next day and a half. Keld was on his third bowl.\\n\\nHe's going to eat himself to death.\\n\\nDrem handed Keld a spit of squirrel meat that had been turning over the fire. He was a trapper, after all, and had been sitting in this camp for six days. He'd had to do something, so their food bags were full, and brot, thankfully, was no longer a necessity. Keld looked up from his bowl and took the squirrel meat, tore off a chunk.\\n\\n\\\"It's hot, you might want to take it slo-\\\"\\n\\nKeld swallowed the chunk of meat, hardly chewing it, and ripped off another slab of meat.\\n\\n\\\"Never mind.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So, what trouble are we in?\\\" Keld asked, wiping grease from his mouth and beard.\\n\\n\\\"Remarkably, none that I can report on,\\\" Cullen said good-naturedly. \\\"I thought Fritha and her arsewipes would have sniffed us out by now.\\\" He patted his sword hilt. \\\"But thus far, no such luck.\\\" He gave his mad grin, the one that Drem was starting to associate with Cullen's desire for against-all-odds danger.\\n\\nThey'd told Keld of how the battle had ended, of the draig and their mad scramble for the river, of tying Keld to Hammer's back and leaping into the ice floe.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2296,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 18"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Ah, but it's good to have you back with us,\" Cullen said to Keld.\n\nKeld nodded, said something incomprehensible through a mouthful of brot.\n\nDrem was starting to feel a little worried about the huntsman. He knew that half a bowl of the foul-tasting gruel had filled him to bursting and made him feel as if he'd had a stomach full of lead for the next day and a half. Keld was on his third bowl.\n\nHe's going to eat himself to death.\n\nDrem handed Keld a spit of squirrel meat that had been turning over the fire. He was a trapper, after all, and had been sitting in this camp for six days. He'd had to do something, so their food bags were full, and brot, thankfully, was no longer a necessity. Keld looked up from his bowl and took the squirrel meat, tore off a chunk.\n\n\"It's hot, you might want to take it slo-\"\n\nKeld swallowed the chunk of meat, hardly chewing it, and ripped off another slab of meat.\n\n\"Never mind.\"\n\n\"So, what trouble are we in?\" Keld asked, wiping grease from his mouth and beard.\n\n\"Remarkably, none that I can report on,\" Cullen said good-naturedly. \"I thought Fritha and her arsewipes would have sniffed us out by now.\" He patted his sword hilt. \"But thus far, no such luck.\" He gave his mad grin, the one that Drem was starting to associate with Cullen's desire for against-all-odds danger.\n\nThey'd told Keld of how the battle had ended, of the draig and their mad scramble for the river, of tying Keld to Hammer's back and leaping into the ice floe."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"After a day in the river Hammer dragged us onto the riverbank, managed to heave herself this far, and then collapsed. Since then we've been thawing our toes out by the fire, waiting for you to wake up...\" Cullen grinned.\n\n\"You should have left me, made for Dun Seren,\" Keld said, frowning. \"Byrne must know of what is happening in the north.\"\n\n\"I wasn't going to be leaving you anywhere, not while there was breath in your body.\"\n\n\"This is too importan-\" Keld started to say, but Cullen held up a hand.\n\n\"\"We leave no one behind,\" remember,\" Cullen said, a surly expression twisting his mouth. \"It's part of my oath, so if you think I've done wrong, you can take it up with Byrne when we get back to Dun Seren.\" He stood and took their bowls. \"I'm going to wash these out.\" He paused at the tent flap. \"Maybe I should have left you, but Hammer's refused to move for six days, too. Hasn't even stood up since we got here. And Rab's gone to Dun Seren. Byrne will hear of Gulla whether we make it back or no.\" He turned and stomped off before Keld had a chance to speak.\n\nThe huntsman looked at Drem and gave him a wink.\n\n\"He's a good lad, our Cullen,\" Keld said, \"but he needs a bit of encouragement to use this sometimes.\" He tapped his temple with a finger.\n\n\"I think he was right,\" Drem said with a shrug. \"Rab should have reached Dun Seren by now.\" He paused, looking at Keld. \"Would you have done any different? I don't think you would.\"\n\n\"Ah, maybe you're right, lad,\" Keld said, sighing. \"This knock to my head, and running away from half-breeds and traitors.\" He shook his head. \"Makes me angry.\" He stood slowly, stretched, Fen rising from his spot by the fire."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Best go and see Hammer, then, see if we can convince her to join us in a walk.\"\n\nKeld limped out of the tent, still carrying the remains of his squirrel breakfast. Drem tried to support him, but the huntsman gave Drem a dark look.\n\n\"If I can't walkout of a tent without help then I might as well throw myself back into the river,\" he growled.\n\nCullen returned from the riverbank and followed as they made for Hammer. Fen padded ahead of them. Drem could seethe wolven-hound was favouring his right foreleg, limping a little, but his ribs seemed to have set well enough, which he was relieved about.\n\n\"Hello, lass,\" Keld said gently, as he drew near to Hammer. The bear was sleeping, snoring loudly enough to shake pine cones from boughs in the trees around her. She roused at his voice, raised her head and gave out a rumbling sound that wasn't quite a growl.\n\nKeld crouched down beside the bear and wrapped a fist in the thick fur of her cheek.\n\n\"It's good to see you, lass,\" Keld said. He leaned into the bear, pressing his forehead against her long muzzle. Hammer dwarfed him, her head roughly the size of Keld's crouching body, but as Drem stared at them he thought there was something almost vulnerable about the bear. She made snuffling noises as she sniffed Keld.\n\n\"I miss Sig, too,\" Keld said, and more rumbling echoed from the bear's deep chest. \"She was the best of us, and no denying. And I can see you've had a hard time of it.\" He stroked one hand along scabbed cuts that scarred Hammer's muzzle, then ran his hand down to her shoulder, his fingers probing as he did so. She didn't complain, which Drem thought was a good sign."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Some squirrel?\" Keld said, offering Hammer the remains of his spitted breakfast.\n\nHammer took the food, hardly more than a morsel for her vast maw. Keld gestured with a hand, and Drem ran to their tent, fetched a whole squirrel and hurried back, giving it to Keld.\n\n\"You've had a hard time of it, lass, I've been beaten up, too,\" Keld was saying to the bear.\n\nFen rubbed his body against Hammer's side, whined and licked her mouth.\n\n\"And Fen, too,\" Keld said.\n\n\"Here you go,\" Keld said, pulling more pieces of meat off the skewer, bones and all. \"We're in a bit of a mess, you, me and Fen,\" Keld continued, \"but we can't just give up, now, can we? What would Sig think?\"\n\nMore squirrel went into Hammer's mouth, bones crunching.\n\nKeld stood up.\n\n\"Come on, girl, let's go home,\" he said, and gave a tug on the fur of her cheek. \"Let's do it for Sig. Make her proud.\"\n\nHammer raised her head, looking at him with her small, bright, intelligent eyes, then looked at Fen. The wolven-hound barked at her.\n\nA rumbling sound deep in Hammer's belly, then a slow shifting, like a whale rising out of the sea, and then Hammer was standing, her wounded leg shaking, her shoulder quivering.\n\nDrem looked at them, Keld, Fen and Hammer, the three of them battered and scarred, but not beaten. He felt a lump in his throat.\n\n\"Ah, see, she's just been waiting for Fen to join her and old Keld to wake up,\" Keld said over his shoulder to Drem and Cullen. \"Now, be right quick and break camp.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Drem took the rearguard position as they walked away from their campsite. Cullen was in the lead, Fen scouting a little ahead of him, Keld and Hammer in between. Keld had refused to even try and sit on Hammer's back, saying it would be too much for the bear, and Drem thought he was probably right. Hammer was upright and steadier than Drem had dared hope, but she was clearly weak on her left side; walking would be enough of atrial for her. They'd stripped all of her tack, bridle and saddlebags that had been strapped to her, and tried to share them out between each other. Anything they didn't class as essential had been left behind, but there was still a lot of extra weight on Drem's back. It didn't help that he had given himself extra baggage, deeming himself bigger and stronger than Cullen.\n\nBesides, if we end up in a fight, Cullen's the one who's most likely to save us with his swordcraft. He'll need his blade in his fist quick, and not have to be worrying about extricating himself from a mountain of packs.\n\nHe can be the fighter, I'll be the packhorse.\n\nDrem looked back at their old camp as they walked deeper into the pinewoods and smiled. If Fritha ever did catch up with them, he'd left a little surprise for her. He'd had six days to fill, after all, and there was only so much trapping he could do.\n\nHe set his face to the trail ahead and followed Hammer's gigantic furry backside.\n\nThey were climbing slowly upwards, curling through a sea of pine, following a path that Drem had tracked a little way during the last few days. Not really a path, more just about the only route that wasn't blocked by boulders, sheer cliffs or snow. It took them roughly south and east, which Drem judged was the way to Dun Seren."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"If we ever find away out of the Bonefells.\n\nThey were in uncharted territory, deep within the hills and mountains of the Bonefells, a western region that Olin had never taken Drem into before. From the tales in Kergard, no one else had tried, either. It had a bad reputation, with all manner of wild stories putting off sensible trappers.\n\nAnd now I know why.\n\nIf we manage to stay ahead of Fritha and her followers, we must have come through the worst of it. There can't be anything worse than draigs in these mountains and hills."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv stood in the shadows of one of the alcoves carved into the walls of Drassil's great keep. The walls curved in a vertiginous dome around the colossal tree trunk that the entire fortress of Drassil was built around. Riv was high above the ground, gazing down into the Great Hall where, far below her, people were gathering, flowing in through the wide gates and sitting upon the tiered stone steps of the Great Hall. Even from her lofty vantage point she could see almost every detail of those who came in. That was something else that had changed about her: her vision sharper and keener since she had grown her wings.\n\nRiv saw Bleda enter, felt something shift in her chest at the sight of him. She remembered him calling to her, that night on the road as they had been journeying back to Drassil. She knew he wanted her to explain why she was behaving like this, to tell him what was happening. She'd wanted nothing more than to fly back down to him and tell him everything. He must have heard Aphra's revelation at the cabin, that Kol washer father. Just the thought of it filled her with shame. She had wanted to tell Bleda of all that had happened in the cabin, that she had made a deal with him, sworn an oath, but only to protect Bleda and her friends. But something inside her would not, could not, tell him.\n\nHow could she tell him that she had made a deal with Kol! The man who had killed Bleda's brother and sister! Hard enough for Bleda to learn that Kol washer father. She still could not grasp it fully herself, and she felt a shame deep as her bones about it. There was a logical part of her that knew the shame she felt was ridiculous, that it was out of her control, that it was as deranged as feeling shame if you'd been born male or female, or in this town instead of that one but, nevertheless, that shame was there, like a worm in her veins. And, to be honest, the logical side of her never usually came out on top."},{"from":"human","value":"Bleda walked straight-backed, with a touch of the rolling gait that hinted at the master-horseman that Riv knew him to be."},{"from":"gpt","value":"His face was set, his cold-face in place, eyes scanning the room, taking everything in. This was the Bleda she had seen over the last six or seven years, but now she knew what she saw was merely the tip of the iceberg above water. There were great depths to him hidden beneath the surface.\n\nEllac and a few of his honour guard were ranged about Bleda, all stony-faced, as Riv would expect of the Sirak, and with them came Jin, Princess of the Cheren Clan and Bleda's betrothed. Riv felt her lips twist at the sight of the young woman. Not only had she entirely forgotten that Jin and Bleda had been betrothed as some kind of political union to bring the Clans of the Sirak and Cheren under the protective wing and control of the Ben-Elim, but she had also forgotten the depth of her dislike for Jin. She could not stand her arrogance, the way she spoke to Riv, or even looked at her. Or the way she looked at Bleda. Jin sat next to Bleda on the tiered steps, shuffled closer to him, leaned closer still and whispered something in his ear.\n\nRiv felt an almost overwhelming desire to fly down there, grab Jin by her hair and hoist her into the air. With a shuddering breath she fought the urge and forced herself to look away.\n\nA host of Ben-Elim were spread amongst the ever-growing crowd, thousands of them, more than Riv had ever seen before. Many Ben-Elim existed in the Banished Lands, three thousand, four thousand of them, maybe, scattered throughout the Land of the Faithful. There were over two thousand of them in the Great Hall right now.\n\nWhite-Wings, the elite warriors of the Ben-Elim, numbered in the region often thousand swords, most of them garrisoned along the borders of the Land of the Faithful. Between one and two thousand usually remained within Drassil's walls, guardians of the statues of Asroth and Meical, as well as a reserve force to deal with outbreaks of rebellion or the discovery of a Kadoshim nest. Far more than two thousand White-Wings were filing into the Great Hall. Ben-Elim and White-Wings-they had all returned from the four corners of the Land of the Faithful at Kol's summons, at the news of Israfil's death. At least two or threescore more Ben-Elim flew in lazy circles around the enormous expanse that towered over the hall, Riv recognizing them as some of Kol's most trusted men."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"On the ground, Kol sat upon a carved chair; the other chairs either side of him that were usually filled by Ben-Elim or giants were all empty. Behind him, though, were ranks of loyal Ben-Elim, three, four hundred at least, their chainmail bright, and on either flank were units of White-Wings, leather and steel polished and gleaming. On Kol's right stood Aphra with her hundred, Vald and Jost standing amongst their ranks, and on Kol's left Lorina with her hundred.\n\nFurther still behind Kol, the iron-coated figures of Asroth and Meical stood upon a wide dais, frozen and locked in their perpetual conflict. Meical, once High Captain of the Ben-Elim, was upon his knees, grasping at Asroth, the Lord of the Fallen. Asroth's leathery wings were spread, held in mid-flight, Meical pulling him back. One of Asroth's hands gripped Meical's throat; the other arm was pulled back as if to strike at him, except that now there was only a stump where Asroth's fist had been.\n\nBleda was here when the Kadoshim and their acolytes attacked Drassil and carved Asroth's right hand from his arm. He said he saw Asroth blink.\n\nSomething changed in the hall below her, the murmured hum of a crowd settling. Kol had stood from his seat.\n\nRiv sucked in a deep breath, knowing what was to come.\n\nHating what was to come.\n\n\"Greetings, people of the Land of the Faithful,\" Kol said. By some ingenious effect of the curved architecture of the hall, his voice echoed around the chamber, effortlessly filling the huge room. \"Both humankind and Ben-Elim, I am grateful that you have come so quickly at such a dark time.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He stepped forwards, everything about him assured and confident.\n\n\"Our high captain, Israfil, is dead, slain by a dread conspiracy amongst our own.\" He hung his head. \"It has been the greatest of tragedies.\"\n\nMurmurs rippled amongst the crowd.\n\nA Ben-Elim stepped out from the crowd, tall and finely handsome, dark hair pulled tight to his head and tied at the nape. He wore a cuirass of polished leather, embossed upon it a serpent, body coiling in a circle, at its apex two heads meeting, fangs bared. About his neck was a silver torc of twisted silver, the same two serpents' heads meeting. Riv recognized him as Sariel, a captain of the Ben-Elim rarely seen at Drassil. He led the legions who guarded the south-eastern border. The crowd hushed.\n\n\"Who?\" he said.\n\nKol met Sariel's eye and waited for the hall to become utterly silent.\n\n\"Adonai,\" Kol said.\n\nGasps and outraged shouts rippled around the chamber.\n\nThe Ben-Elim Adonai had been one of Kol's closest friends, one of his inner circle. He was also the father of Fia's baby. Israfil the Lord Protector had put Adonai on trial in this very room, found him guilty of consorting with a White-Wing. Israfil had drawn a sword and dealt out the punishment himself, hacking Adonai's wings from his back and exiling him from the Banished Lands.\n\nKol was telling the truth when he said it was Adonai who had slain Israfil. Riv had seen it with her own eyes. But Kol wasn't telling the whole truth. He did not say that when Adonai plunged a sword into Israfil's chest the Lord Protector was on his knees, Kol standing behind him with his knife to Israfil's throat."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And who is to say different of Adonai now. He is dead, slain by Bleda because Adonai was trying to kill me.\n\n\"Adonai did not accomplish this dark deed alone,\" Kol said to Sariel, though his voice filled the chamber. \"He had help; there were traitors within our own. Garidas, captain of a White-Wing hundred, aided him.\"\n\nRiv snorted a shocked laugh. Even though Kol had told her all that he was going to say, hearing him saying it out loud to all of Drassil made her feel physically sick.\n\nI liked Garidas. It is not right that he is blamed for this.\n\nBut what can I do to defend him? I am in this too deep now, cannot see a path out of this dark place. There is nothing I can do without breaking my oath to Kol and sentencing Bleda to death.\n\nShe realized her fists were clenched, knuckles white and popping.\n\n\"These are dark days, and filled with mourning,\" Kol continued. \"But the Banished Lands are not safe, the Kadoshim are stirring and we must be ever vigilant, must fulfil our sacred calling to protect mankind. We need to elect anew Lord Protector, and soon. Someone strong enough and wise enough to lead us through this war and claim the victory that has eluded us for so long.\" He looked away from Sariel now, eyes slowly taking in the vast crowd that filled the hall.\n\n\"As his chosen second in command, I nominate myself for the task,\" Kol said, spreading his arms and wings wide.\n\nA total silence.\n\nSariel's wings stirred, somehow commanding attention.\n\n\"The appointment of anew Lord Protector is a matter for the Ben-Elim to decide,\" he said. \"In council.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I grieve Israfil's loss as much as anyone,\" Kol continued, voice raised for the crowd, ignoring Sariel. \"But we must think of the future. The Land of the Faithful is not home to just us Ben-Elim; the races of men and giants dwell here. They should have a say.\"\n\nMurmuring spreading through the crowd, scattered shouts and cheers from many, especially large groups of White-Wings, but not them alone. Many of the free folk of Drassil, too-traders, smiths, farmers, all manner of people.\n\nSariel frowned. Riv noticed many of the Ben-Elim amidst the crowd shifting uncomfortably.\n\n\"This is anew world, anew age, and we should change with it, not keep it leashed,\" Kol said. \"I propose anew order, where Ben-Elim and mankind rule together. Israfil was a great leader, but he had one foot still in the Otherworld, was clinging to away of life that we left behind over a hundred years ago.\"\n\n\"You should be silent,\" Sariel said furiously. \"This should be discussed in the Ben-Elim's council.\"\n\nSome jeers from the crowd, spreading. Riv knew who had started them: White-Wings allied to Kol set the task before this meeting had been convened.\n\n\"Why not speak freely, now?\" Kol said. \"I have nothing to hide. Do you, Sariel?\"\n\nAll eyes in the chamber turned upon the dark-haired Ben-Elim, whose face twitched.\n\n\"Of course not,\" Sariel said.\n\nKol is cunning, and a master of misdirection.\n\n\"And we are the Ben-Elim, protectors of these people, not their rulers. That is why we need to elect anew Lord Protector.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sariel stared at Kol, eyes wide with shock. They slowly narrowed.\n\n\"Stop this,\" Sariel said.\n\n\"These are not mere words,\" Kol said, continuing to ignore Sariel. \"I am proposing anew order, one that embraces these Banished Lands and the people who dwell within it, a land and people that we have come to value, to respect, to love.\"\n\nLove! Does Kol even know what that word means? He talks well, though, but then, he always has.\n\n\"And here is a symbol of my commitment to forge this new world.\" Kol looked up at Riv.\n\nRiv took a deep breath.\n\nShe had kept herself hidden since her return to Drassil, Kol flying her in during the dead of night, and hiding her away in the tower above the keep, once Israfil's chambers, but now taken by Kol.\n\nOthers were following Kol's gaze, looking upwards into the heights of the domed chamber.\n\nRiv hesitated in the shadows of the alcove, knew that her world was about to change again.\n\nHow am I here? How have I let myself become so ensnared in this mess, in Kol's scheming? But whatever I do, wherever I go, I will be reviled and hunted. This is a chance to change that. Avery slim chance, granted.\n\nDeep down she knew there was more to her choices than self-preservation. Her eyes searched out Aphra, saw her staring up at her, then she looked to Bleda, felt the anger and hardness within her soften, just fora moment.\n\nShe stepped out of the alcove and dropped into the huge expanse of the chamber, arms open wide, and let herself fall."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"People in the chamber gasped, pointed, a scream here and there.\n\nAnd then Riv spread her wings.\n\nA pulse of her wings checked her fall and fora moment she hovered high above the crowd, then tucked her wings in tight, dropping into a dive. A grin split her face, for despite everything, she loved to fly. People leaped away as she sped towards the ground, at the last moment spreading her wings wide to swoop low over the crowd, spinning in the air, spiralling up and looping so that she was behind and above Kol, where she hovered for long moments with slow, powerful beats of her wings, letting all seethe colour of her wings, the shape of her body, taking in the fact that she was not a Ben-Elim. That she was a woman and a half-breed. But a half-breed with feathered wings, not the skin and leather that the Kadoshim spawned.\n\nAnd she was wearing a black cuirass with two white wings embossed upon it, and a short-sword at her hip, the uniform of the White-Wings, Drassil's elite troops.\n\nThen she touched down, wings folding behind her shoulders, and she stood next to Kol.\n\nThings looked a lot different now that she was upon the ground. Her distance had given her a certain objectivity and detachment from the proceedings. Now she could seethe looks on people's faces, hear their individual mutterings, smell their fear. It felt overwhelming.\n\nA deep breath to keep the anger at bay.\n\nRemember the plan.\n\n\"What is this?\" Sariel said, revulsion twisting his face. He strode forwards, his hand going to the sword at his hip.\n\nRiv forced herself to remain still and calm, which was a lot harder to do than it had sounded when she and Kol had spoken of this moment, of how she must react. Especially when a Ben-Elim was coming at her, murder in his eyes. Her fingers twitched for her sword, but she kept her arm rigid at her side."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As one, the Ben-Elim behind Kol took a step forwards, the White-Wings to either side of him also moving, shields snapping up with an echoing crack. And suddenly Ben-Elim were circling above them, Kol's followers dropping lower.\n\nSariel paused, looking about and up.\n\n\"What are you doing, Kol?\" His eyes were drawn back to Riv. \"This thing is an abomination,\" Sariel hissed; voices in the crowd called out their agreement.\n\nCries calling for Riv's execution rang out, her head snapping in the direction of the voices, searching for them. A white-haired Ben-Elim, about him a dozen White-Wings, men and women who had journeyed to Drassil with Sariel. She glared at them, tried to breathe deep and slow, knowing full well what would happen if she let her anger overwhelm her.\n\nRage.\n\nPain.\n\nThe executioner's block.\n\n\"Many of you know me,\" Riv said, a tremor in her voice, part rage, all emotion. She looked around, saw thousands of faces staring back at her, shouts drowning her out.\n\n\"LET HER SPEAK,\" Kol bellowed, and silence settled. \"Listen to her, before you judge,\" Kol said, calmer.\n\nRiv took a deep breath, gulped. \"Many of you know me,\" she repeated. \"I have lived here, at Drassil, my whole life. I have dreamed of becoming a White-Wing, of standing in the shield wall, of serving the Land of the Faithful, protecting its people, fighting against the evil that is the Kadoshim in our Great War. That is who I am, inhere.\" She put a fist to her heart."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Who is your father?\" Sariel snapped. \"Who committed this obscenity?\"\n\n\"She does not know,\" Kol said, stepping forwards. \"And it does not matter. Many here know Riven, have grownup with her, taught her or trained beside her in the weapons-field. Marched on campaigns with her.\" He stopped, looking around at nodding heads.\n\n\"She is an abomination, evidence of a great sin,\" Sariel said. He was staring at Riv with disgust, eyes wide, drawn to her wings.\n\n\"Aye, she is evidence of the sins of her father, mayhap,\" Kol said before Riv had a chance to say anything. \"But she is not guilty of that sin herself. How can she beheld accountable for the crime that another has committed, long before she was even born?\"\n\nRiv's eyes scanned the crowd, saw expressions shifting, thoughtful, even a few nodding heads.\n\nThis is hopeful, she thought.\n\nShe looked at Sariel, who was staring death at her.\n\nNot so hopeful.\n\n\"She has wings,\" Sariel snarled.\n\n\"So, she has wings now.\" Kol shrugged. \"She is the same person that we have all known for seventeen years. She was not evil before; she has not become evil overnight. If there is any sin, it lies with her parentage, not her. She is innocent, guiltless. How can anyone of us beheld accountable for our parents' deeds? If that were so, every wrongdoing that has a judgement meted out would be inflicted upon the children of the wrongdoer. If a man commits murder and goes to the gallows for it, do we hang his sons and daughters, too? If a woman steals, do we cutoff the right hands of her children?\" Kol paused, allowing the implications of his words to sink into the crowd."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I have marched on a hundred campaigns with my sister's hundred,\" Riv said. \"Wished only to serve Elyon. I am one of the Faithful. I am a White-Wing, but with real wings.\" Riv grinned at Sariel, allowed her anger that small pleasure.\n\nSariel returned her stare, pinpricks of colour flushing his cheeks.\n\n\"Sariel, we Ben-Elim are Elyon's representatives on the earth,\" Kol continued calmly, sounding like the voice of reason, his voice inflected with hints of friendship, as if he were an arbitrator in a dispute, \"and Elyon is just and fair. He would not condemn the innocent.\" He raised his arms to the crowd. \"He would not condemn Riv fora crime she has not committed, or any others like her. And neither will I.\" He looked at Sariel. \"Would you?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Sariel said without pause or thought.\n\nPeople in the crowd gasped, some jeered him.\n\nKol shook his head sadly, playing every inch the disappointed moral high ground. \"Let the people decide,\" Kol said. \"And, also let them decide who is to be their Lord Protector.\" He unfurled his wings, beat them and rose into the air, hovering above Sariel. \"Today you have the chance to choose your own future,\" he shouted to the host that filled the Great Hall. \" Today you make your own history.\n\n\"Would you condemn Riv to death for the sins of her father? Whoever he is.\"\n\nA silence, growing longer, Riv feeling she was standing on the brink of an abyss, one foot hovering over it, unsteady.\n\n\"Let her live,\" a voice cried out. Riv's head snapped towards it, and she was looking straight at Bleda. He returned her gaze and said it again-shouted it this time-and Ellac joined his voice to Bleda's, some of his guards, too."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then others in the crowd were shouting it out: Ben-Elim who followed Kol scattered amongst the crowd, but others as well, White-Wings whom Riv had trained with, market stallholders whom she had bought food from, haggled with, blacksmiths she had laughed with, and then it felt as if the entire crowd was roaring, \"LIVE, LIVE, LIVE.\"\n\nRiv blew out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. A smile spread across her face.\n\nKol smiled at Riv, and then at Sariel, who looked as if he'd just swallowed a bucketful of angry wasps.\n\nThe crowd quietened.\n\n\"And who would you choose to lead you?\" Kol called out. \"Who would you trust not only to lead you against the Kadoshim, but to take us into anew age of peace and harmony? Him?\"\n\nKol pointed at Sariel.\n\n\"Stand for him, now, if you wish him to lead you.\"\n\n\"Kol. This is not the way,\" Sariel was hissing, but people were already standing, some shouting Sariel's name. It was mostly Ben-Elim in the crowd who stood-more than two hundred, fewer than three hundred. White-Wings joined them-again, hundreds, not thousands, and a sprinkling of others.\n\n\"Or me?\" Kol cried out as Sariel's followers sat.\n\nIt seemed to Riv that the entire host stood as one, though of course they did not. The end was the same, though, the balance so obviously, overwhelmingly, in Kol's favour. Ben-Elim and White-Wings in the crowd roared Kol's name, until Riv fought the urge to clasp her hands over her ears.\n\n\"This is not over,\" Sariel said quietly to Kol. Only Riv heard over the din of the crowd. \"The Ben-Elim council will meet. This means nothing, and you know it.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It is over, Sariel. Look about you.\" Kol gestured at the cheering crowd, smiling his beautiful smile. \"This is everything.\"\n\nSariel looked about the chamber, listening to the horde roaring Kol's name. He turned to leave, other Ben-Elim stepping from the crowd, some White-Wings with them, waiting for Sariel.\n\nSariel looked at Riv. \"She is an abomination,\" he said again, quietly, shaking his head.\n\n\"No,\" Kol said. \"She is the future.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha crept through the trees, Morn walking beside her, a dozen of her Red Right Hand spread either side of them both, Gunil and her Ferals further back. Gunil was walking alongside Claw, who had made a sudden recovery from her wounds, the inflammation and infections peaking and then fading. The forest was still and quiet, only the sound of the wind soughing in the trees, the dripping of snow as it melted from boughs. Another sound filtered into her senses, soft as a sigh at first, growing as she stole through the trees. Constant.\n\nThe river. I can hear the river. We must be close.\n\nMorn stopped and held up a hand, palm splayed, facing down. She pointed through the trees.\n\nFritha stared, could only see trees, what looked like a granite boulder in the distance.\n\nMorn walked on, but Fritha put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her, at the same time signalling for two of her followers to goon ahead.\n\nMorn scowled at Fritha, but she obeyed.\n\nHow long will that last, I wonder? Until her wing heals?\n\nMorn had all but collapsed when Arn had carried her into the hold's feast-hall. Fritha had tended to her, spoken words of power over the wound in Morn's wing, a deep cut where the muscle and cartilage that supported her wing-arch met the muscle and tendons in her back. It was healing, but not fully recovered yet.\n\nFritha had left Arn with Elise and five of her Red Right Hand to act as guards for the prisoners at the hold. It left Fritha with ten of her acolytes, plus thirteen of her surviving Ferals. Not the greatest warband in the world, but Morn had told Fritha that she had only fought against two men, Drem and the younger warrior, the red-haired fire-cracker, Cullen. Though she had seen a figure inside their tent, which must have been the huntsman, the fact he had not joined the fight against Morn suggested he was wounded."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Wounded, I hope. Dead he's no use tome.\n\nTwenty-six of us. We are enough to take two healthy men and one wounded. Gulla will be pleased when I return with Drem and two warriors of the Order; success will erase my failure to stop word of us reaching Dun Seren.\n\nThey were close to the boulder now, her two men scouting ahead, flitting shadows between the trees.\n\nMorn stopped again, frowning.\n\n\"What is it?\" Fritha whispered.\n\n\"Their tent is gone,\" the half-breed whispered.\n\nThere was the sound of snapping branches, a thud, followed by a scream.\n\nFritha put her fingers to her lips and whistled, heard an answering howl behind her and then she was rushing forwards, past Morn, her spear levelled, eyes searching everywhere. Screams echoed through the trees.\n\nOne of the two scouts was standing before a hole in the ground. Fritha reached him and looked down, saw a pit filled with stakes, the other scout skewered through the belly, shoulder and thigh, eyes glazing-then still.\n\nThis is Drem's work.\n\nFritha turned in a slow circle, scanning the area, trees spread wide, though the canopy was dense above. The Ferals appeared out of the gloom, the bulk of Gunil and his bear not far behind them.\n\n\"Cuardaigh,\" Fritha ordered, and the Ferals dropped to all fours, began sniffing and snuffling through the area.\n\nThe ground vibrated as Gunil joined her, his bear a score of paces behind. He stared around the empty space, saw the marks in the ground where a tent had stood."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"They're gone,\" the giant said, then he looked down into the stake pit. \"He's dead.\"\n\nFritha gave Gunil a dark look.\n\n\"Search the area, with care,\" she called out.\n\n\"Their tent was here,\" Morn said, pointing at the ground just beyond the pit. She stretched, arching her back and extending her wings, a tentative flexing.\n\n\"It feels good,\" Morn said, rolling one shoulder.\n\n\"Be carefu-\" But Morn was already jumping into the air and beating her wings. They took her weight, and she hovered there a few moments, then rose slowly in a wide spiral.\n\n\"I will see things differently from up here,\" she called down.\n\nOne of Fritha's Ferals was snorting at the base of a huge boulder. Then it stood on two legs, sniffed the air and trotted off, away from the sound of the river.\n\nFritha followed.\n\nIt led her along a wide path that sloped gently upwards. Abruptly the Feral stopped, looking down at its foot. A length of twine had snagged around it.\n\n\"NO,\" Fritha shouted as the Feral gave a tug, snapping the twine.\n\nA whistling sound, a thud, something cutting through air and then the Feral was battered from his feet and hurled a dozen paces, slamming into a tree. It slid to the ground, blood leaking from nose and mouth, bones protruding from its smashed ribcage.\n\nA felled tree trunk hung suspended across the path, creaking as it swung back and forth.\n\nFritha ran to her fallen Feral, saw it was already too late. She crouched beside it, stroked its misshapen jaws, then she raised her head to the trees and screeched her fury."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She blinked away tears and saw Morn standing over her.\n\n\"Come, my spear-sister,\" Morn said, holding out a hand to Fritha. \"We will hunt them together.\"\n\nFritha looked at Morn's proffered hand a few moments, then reached out and took it, rising to her feet.\n\n\"We have found their tracks,\" Morn said. \"That way.\" She pointed south-east, into dense woodland.\n\nFritha nodded, and without a word she was moving, along the path Morn had pointed to.\n\nA beating of wings and Morn was in the air, while the Ferals and Red Right Hand fell into place around Fritha. It made her feel strong.\n\nDrem, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth, and make you pay for what you have done."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fen stopped in front of Drem, the wolven-hound's ears pricked forwards, a low snarl and his hackles raised in a ridge between his shoulders. Drem pulled to a sudden halt, swaying with the weight of the packs upon his back.\n\nThey were standing close to the ridge of along, shallow incline that they'd been steadily climbing the whole day, pine still thick about them, for which Drem was grateful. He had a compulsion to check the skies continually for leathery wings. Without thinking, he found himself looking skywards again, although most of it was obscured by layered boughs of pine. Here and there agleam of light broke through, a few snowflakes drifting down like white leaves.\n\nDoes it snow eternally in the Bonefells?\n\n\"What is it?\" Keld said, joining Drem. The huntsman was sweating and pale but had managed to keep walking from sunset to sundown for the last four days. Keld ate like a starving man each evening and morning, and slept like the dead each night. Drem thought he saw a slight improvement in the huntsman each day.\n\nDrem pointed to Fen, who was alert, totally focused on something he could sense or hear.\n\nDrem couldn't hear anything.\n\n\"What's the holdup?\" Cullen breathed, striding up from behind Hammer.\n\n\"Whisht,\" Keld said, holding up a hand and cocking his head to one side.\n\nCullen was silent for long moments. The gentle snowfall had a muting effect on the pinewoods, as if the world were holding its breath.\n\n\"I can't hear anyth-\"\n\nThen they all heard it. A distant roar."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Behind them Hammer rumbled, deep in her belly.\n\nDrem looked at Keld.\n\n\"It sounds like... a bear,\" Drem said. He put his hand to his throat, found his pulse.\n\n\"Aye,\" Keld agreed.\n\nThey heard it again, clearer. Beyond the ridge, almost dead south.\n\n\"Think we should go around,\" Drem said, thinking of Fritha's giant and his bear.\n\n\"Good idea,\" Keld said.\n\n\"Be quicker to go straight on,\" Cullen said. \"Kill it, whatever it is, if we have to.\"\n\n\"Do you never get tired of fighting, lad?\" Keld snapped.\n\n\"No,\" Cullen said without hesitation, looking at Keld as if he were mad.\n\nAnother roar, sounding louder, closer. There was an odd note in it. Drem had heard a lot of roaring from bears lately, challenging, fighting. This wasn't quite like that. Still...\n\n\"We'll go around,\" Keld said firmly.\n\nHammer snorted behind them, dug a gout of forest litter with a paw and broke into a lumbering run, surging past them, limping a little, but showing more energy than at any point since she'd leaped into the river.\n\n\"What's got under her skin?\" Keld frowned.\n\n\"Don't know, but whatever it is, we can't let her face it alone,\" Cullen said, hefting the pack on his back and breaking into a laboured run.\n\nKeld scowled. \"Damn it.\" And then he was running, too, Fen keeping pace with him.\n\nDrem sighed and followed.\n\nCresting the ridge, a gentle downward slope running away from him, Drem glimpsed to his right the sharp rise of a cliff face running parallel to his course, probably a few hundred paces away. To his left was a sea of trees."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Another roar, louder, that same odd edge to it that struck Drem as unusual. Then it dawned on him what it was.\n\nFear.\n\nNo; terror.\n\nHe caught up with Keld, the pack on Drem's back actually increasing his speed as he ran downhill. He saw the bulk of Hammer ahead, and close behind her Cullen, legs pumping away like a racing hare as he tried to catch up with the bear.\n\nDrem glanced at Keld, saw that he was sweating and blowing a little, but looking as if he had it all under control.\n\nThe pinewoods were opening up, huge boulders scattered around them, looking like the long-buried skulls of giants poking from the forest floor. Snow was thicker on the ground as the density of the treetop canopy lessened.\n\nAn ear-splitting roar, very close now, and then Hammer was slowing. Drem heard an answering roar from her. Cullen finally caught up with her and skidded to a halt beside the bear.\n\nThirty paces from them, Drem's breath and pounding heart was all he could hear. He saw Cullen shoulder off his pack, draw his sword.\n\nNever a good sign.\n\nDrem drew his seax and a hand-axe in preparation. There were the two bears roaring, the sound of timber splintering, and something else, a sound beneath the clangour, constant, though ebbing and flowing-a hissing, like steam.\n\nAnd then Drem was there, running around Hammer, almost colliding with Cullen.\n\nFor long moments he could not understand what was happening in front of them.\n\nStruggling in the centre of a glade, there was a giant white bear."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Drem's breath caught in his throat as his hand went to the bear claw around his neck.\n\nIs it my bear? The one that nearly killed me and Da?\n\nHe tried to check if it was missing a claw on its right paw, but it was impossible to tell, because the bear was fighting for its life.\n\nBone-white things, like huge coils of pearly rope, were looped and twisted around the bear-around its torso, its neck, its legs. Fora moment Drem thought the bear must have become caught in some giant kind of net, with rope as thick as Drem's chest, except that the rope around the white bear had teeth. More than one set of teeth.\n\nAnd they were ripping the bear to shreds.\n\nKeld skidded to a halt beside Drem.\n\n\"Wyrms!\" he hissed.\n\nFen crouched and growled, baring his teeth in a savage snarl.\n\nHave I stepped out of the real into a world of faery tales?\n\nThe tales told of an ancient creature, bred thousands of years ago by giants and used in the War of Treasures; giant wyrms, snake-like, but bigger, much, much bigger, and the wyrms in front of Drem were a thousand times bigger than any adder he'd ever seen. For once, the tales didn't seem to have exaggerated.\n\nThey were huge, red-eyed sinuous lengths of scale and muscle, their jaws flat-muzzled and rowed with teeth. Drem counted at least four sets of eyes and teeth, though it was hard to understand where one wyrm ended and another began, not helped by the way the white bear was lurching around the glade, trying to break free of the coiled loops that were binding and constricting his movement."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The white bear was huge, at least ahead taller and wider than Hammer, but it was obvious that it was losing this fight. Bloodstained its white fur, oozing from dozens of puncture wounds, and the coils of the wyrms were wrapping ever-tighter about its torso, as well as seeking to tether the bear's legs. Its jaws were wide, clamping onto scales. The bear's teeth sank deep and it shook its head savagely, blood and scales spraying, but the wyrm just hissed and bared its fangs, twisting and bucking in muscular spasms to break free.\n\nThe white bear slashed with a paw, scouring red lines across the wyrm's body, and Drem saw fora clear moment that one claw was missing from the bear's paw.\n\nIt is my bear, then.\n\nHis instinct was to go and help this bear, though a voice whispered in his head that he was mad to think of such a thing.\n\nIt is the wild, nature's way, the voice said. The strong kill and eat the weak. You have done it a thousand times yourself.\n\nAnd yet...\n\nIt was his white bear, and he felt a sympathy for it, some kind of bond. The first time he'd encountered it, the bear had tried to kill him and his da. Not the best beginning, he acknowledged. They had only just escaped, Drem cutting a claw from its paw, which he had worn around his neck ever since. It had not been long after that corpses had started turning up in the forests north of Kergard, torn and mauled with tooth and claw. Old Bodil, Calder the smith, Hask, Fritha's grandfather. Even the death of Olin, Drem's da, had been attributed to the white bear. But Drem had discovered the truth of it, that the true murderers were Fritha and her giant's bear."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The white bear had been hunted by the people of Kergard, trapped and caught, dragged back to the town and caged as atrophy. It had been close to a bear-baiting from the town's huntsmen and their hounds.\n\nDrem had set the bear free.\n\nEven now he didn't quite understand why he had done so, only that he had felt a huge sympathy for it, this magnificent creature of the wild, blamed and about to be murdered for acts it had not committed.\n\nThe white bear roared, rage, pain, terror, all rolled into one, and Drem took a step towards it.\n\nDon't be a fool. Walk on-you must reach Dun Seren, a voice in his head said. Those wyrms will kill you all. And besides, why try and save a bear that would be as likely to eat you as to thank you?\n\nDespite the voice in his head, he took another step forwards, felt Keld's grip on his wrist, looked at the huntsman, saw Cullen staring at him as well.\n\nAnd then Hammer was moving, roaring, throwing herself at the wyrms wrapped around the white bear.\n\nCullen shrugged, grinned and charged.\n\nSo did Drem.\n\nHe heard Keld swear behind him, then the sound of the huntsman and Fen following in his wake.\n\nSnow on the ground had been churned to pink sludge. Drem's boots slipped as he chopped with his hand-axe at a twist of wyrm-coil that was looped around the white bear's foreleg. The axe pierced scales, but it was tough, and the blade did not sink deep. He stabbed with his seax, this time piercing flesh, his blade sinking to the hilt, dark, glutinous blood thick as porridge leaking from the wound, but Drem wasn't sure what real damage he had inflicted. The wyrm was not responding, as if it hadn't even felt his blows."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"To his right he glimpsed Hammer sink her teeth into wyrm flesh, puncturing deep, and in a heartbeat a wyrm head was rearing, loosening a coil about the white bear, hissing, its malevolent red eyes fixing on Hammer.\n\nIt felt that, Drem thought.\n\nThe wyrm's jaws opened unnaturally wide, full of too many teeth, as its head drew back and struck at Hammer. She jerked away, but the wyrm was so swift, its teeth clamping onto her neck. Hammer shook violently, but the wyrm's bite held fast. A flash of steel, and Cullen was there, screaming, chopping at the wyrm's neck, Hammer retreating, tugging the wyrm with her, dragging its coiled length away from the white bear.\n\nThe wyrm did not seem to want to let go its grip on either bear, tail coiled around the white bear, fangs sunk deep into Hammer.\n\nGouts of flesh and viscous blood flew through the air as Cullen struck and hacked.\n\nDrem left his seax and hand-axe in the wyrm he'd attacked, pivoted and drew his father's sword. Raising it high overhead, he rushed over to Cullen and Hammer, bringing his blade down diagonally-lightning strike, his father's voice whispered in his head-slicing deep into the wyrm flesh, the treacle-like blood seeping out. He raised and cut again, and then again, deeper into the great rent in the wyrm's torso, until a white fluid started mixing with the dark red of its blood. Cullen stood the other side of the wyrm, his blade rising and falling in a frenzy, more butcher than sword master.\n\nDrem glimpsed bone through the carnage of his blows, felt his sword grate on vertebrae. The wyrm, finally relinquishing its grip on Hammer, twisted to look unsteadily at Drem and Cullen, much of its supportive muscle and sinew severed. It bared its fangs at them, snapping at Cullen, but Hammer's paw swatted it to the ground, the two men still hacking frenziedly, until, with a final blow from Drem, the severed head fell. Its lower body and tail twitched and spasmed, and then was still."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hammer gave out a victory roar, stamped on the wyrm's head for good measure, and then leaped forwards, swiping at another wyrm wrapped around the white bear.\n\n\"Some help!\" Keld cried out. Drem turned to seethe huntsman clinging to the back of another wyrm, just below its head, legs and one arm wrapped around the wyrm, his hand-axe rising and falling as he slashed and hacked. This wyrm had detached itself from the white bear and was giving all of its attention to Keld. Fen was leaping in, biting, ripping out chunks of flesh, then jumping away as the tail whipped at him.\n\nDrem and Cullen ran to Keld, began their butcher's work again.\n\nA tail-strike caught Cullen, sent him spinning through the air.\n\nThe wyrm's head came for Drem, darting forwards, quick as thought.\n\nDrem stabbed his sword up, by immense luck more than skill connected his sword-point with the wyrm's lower jaw, a burst of instinctive terror adding a wild strength to his blow, punching on up into its head, pinning the jaws together. It flopped to the ground, dragging Drem with it, Keld rolling away, the wyrm's head shaking frenziedly. Finding purchase with his feet, Drem pushed, driving his sword deeper, felt it scrape on the top of the wyrm's skull. He twisted his sword. A ripple of spasms through the wyrm's body as it died.\n\nDrem stood, heaved his blade free.\n\nThen he was flying through the air, lost his grip on his sword and rolled a dozen paces. Scrambling to his knees, he saw a wyrm speeding towards him, jaws open, fangs dripping. He lurched to one side as the head stabbed at him, fast as a spear-strike. Ashe staggered to his feet, the tail wrapped around his ankles. His natural inclination was to run, but as his ankles were crushed tight together, all he managed to do was fall over. Another coil looped around him. He started to panic, searched fora weapon-his belt empty, his sword out of reach-resorted to punching ineffectually at the thick coils as they constricted around him. Another ripple of muscle and another few loops curled around him, pinning one arm to his side, covering his stomach and lower chest."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He screamed. Regretted that when another constriction squeezed his breath out of him, made it difficult for him to inhale.\n\nThe wyrm's head reared in front of him, a malignant hiss, a tongue flickering, filled with the stench of rotting meat.\n\nCullen appeared, sword stabbing into the wyrm's mouth, the wyrm rearing away, its coils loosening around Drem. He sucked in air greedily and squirmed free. Keld offered him a hand and helped him rise. Cullen followed the wyrm, slashed up, left to right in a diagonal cut, like a scabbard-draw, opened a great rent in the wyrm's torso. Its head lunged at him, even as he stabbed straight into its belly, its jaws opening, vomiting blood as Cullen's blade sank deep, and two-handed he ripped it upwards, opening its guts as if he were filleting a giant fish.\n\nThe wyrm's jaws closed around Cullen's head and shoulders, but it was dying, its strength deserting it, the power in its jaws fading. Teeth locked around Cullen, scraping on his skin, but not piercing much deeper than that. The wyrm collapsed in an explosion of blood and slime, dragging Cullen down, burying him in a mountain of its entrails.\n\nAn earth-shaking roaring grabbed their attention, Drem looking to see Hammer and the white bear clamping jaws into another wyrm, both of them shaking their muscled necks, tugging the wyrm in two directions. There was a tearing sound as they chewed and tore the creature in half.\n\nThe last surviving wyrm uncoiled itself from the white bear's neck and wove unsteadily from the glade, disappearing through foliage into the cover of woodland in half a heartbeat."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The white bear lifted its head and roared, spittle flying, the ground quaking. It took a staggering step after its fleeing attacker, then a shudder rippled through its body and its front legs collapsed. It toppled onto its side, its chest rising and falling in short, shallow gasps.\n\n\"Help... me,\" a muffled voice called.\n\nCullen!\n\nDrem and Keld ran to the pile of dead wyrm, heaved its lifeless bulk away to reveal Cullen buried in a heap of offal, slime and putrescence.\n\nCullen sat up, looked at Drem, wiped wyrm slime from his face. Spat more of it up. Retched. There was no grin from him now.\n\n\"Drem, a question.\" Cullen spat out more slime. \"Why the hell would you choose to live out here?\"\n\nDrem stared at Cullen, started to chuckle, looked at Keld, who laughed, too, and then Drem was throwing his head back and laughing from the pit of his stomach. He hadn't laughed in along while, and especially not like this, a deep, uncontrolled laughter that shook his core, rattled his bones and made his jaw ache.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, cuffing tears away when he could finally draw breath. \"At least things can't get any worse.\"\n\n\"Can they not?\" Cullen said, eyes drifting up.\n\nDrem followed his gaze, and saw a black silhouette high above them, framed against the luminous glow of snow clouds.\n\nA black silhouette with wide, bat-like wings."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Kol poured Riv a cup of wine.\n\nI hate it here.\n\nThey were sitting in Kol's chambers, situated in a tower high above Drassil's Great Hall. Not too long ago it had been Israfil's chambers, and Riv could still seethe bloodstains upon the flagstoned floor.\n\nIt is a constant reminder of why I hate Kol. My mo–, no, my grandmother Dalmae died in these chambers. And Kol insists that I stay here, still, when all I want is to return to my siste–, no, my mother's barracks.\n\nHer head was still spinning with the changes in her life. Kol and his deeds were ever-present in her head and heart, a constant test of herself-control. Because her anger was still there, a swirling tornado in the pit of her belly that threatened to drag her into its violent grip.\n\nShe knew where that always ended.\n\nBlood and violence.\n\nAnd she could not allow that to happen, for Vald and Jost's sake.\n\nFor Bleda's sake.\n\nAnd Kol is my father. She stared at him, a mixture of revulsion and fascination shifting through her.\n\nA tall, high-arched window let in gusts of cold air, though a Ben-Elim stood before it, jet-black hair braided and tied at the neck.\n\nBen-Elim do not only guard doors. An attack is just as likely to come through a window as through a door.\n\n\"I think that went quite well,\" Kol said, pouring wine for Aphra and Lorina as well. He was talking about the meeting yesterday in the Great Hall, as this was the first time they had all met since then.\n\n\"Before we drink,\" Kol said, \"we need something to toast.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Other than me being still alive, Riv thought.\n\n\"I remember my friends and reward loyalty,\" Kol said. \"And as I'm in the mood for making changes, you two are now promoted.\" He raised his cup to Aphra and Lorina. \"You are now my two high captains of the White-Wings. Five hundred swords for each of you.\"\n\nRiv blinked at that. The White-Wings numbered in total around ten thousand strong. They had never had high captains, had always been divided into hundreds. Riv had never thought twice of it before, but now she found herself questioning everything, and in hindsight considered the demarcation of the White-Wings into comparatively small groups of a hundred as another way that the Ben-Elim had maintained their control. Drassil's garrison was traditionally a thousand White-Wings, and now Kol was giving them allover to Aphra and Lorina, the two captains who had supported his coup.\n\nAphra frowned, but said nothing, and Lorina smiled, the act not much changing her dark, severe features.\n\n\"So, to my new high captains, and to anew order. Cheers,\" Kol said, raising his own cup. Aphra and Lorina also raised theirs and drank. Kol stared at Riv, arching an eyebrow.\n\nRiv did not feel much like celebrating, still remembering Sariel's look of revulsion as he had called her an abomination.\n\nBut I am still alive, and it looks as if I will not be put to death in the immediate future. That's something, I suppose.\n\nShe sipped red wine from her cup, discovered that she liked the taste.\n\n\"That's the spirit,\" Kol said.\n\nRiv found his endless joviality irritating."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A day had passed since Kol's revelation in the Great Hall, during which Riv had kept herself hidden away in these chambers. She was greatly encouraged by the response of Drassil's residents to her, after Kol had worked a little of his oratory magic, and a large dose of manipulation.\n\nBut alive is alive.\n\n\"So, now the Ben-Elim and Drassil's residents are reconciled to... you-\" Kol looked at Riv-\"thus paving the way to a more relaxed, intimate relationship between Ben-Elim and mankind.\" He drank from his cup, smiled.\n\n\"It just leaves Ethlinn and her giants to win over,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"They will be far easier to pacify than Sariel and his Ben-Elim,\" Lorina murmured.\n\n\"I should hope so.\" Kol sighed. \"Though I doubt we have heard the last of Sariel.\" He shrugged. \"The first and hardest step has been made. As for the giants, I think once the situation is on firm ground here, that I should take my new... figurehead to go and see Ethlinn and her giants.\"\n\nFigurehead! Riv didn't like that.\n\n\"Where is Ethlinn?\" Riv asked.\n\n\"Dun Seren.\" Kol sighed again. \"I suppose I may as well deal with them as well as the giants and get this allover and done with.\"\n\n\"The Order of the Bright Star?\" Riv said.\n\n\"Aye. Aden of stiff-necked fools, but stiff-necked fools that we need, at least until the Kadoshim are annihilated.\" He smiled.\n\nKol's going to take me to the Order of the Bright Star! Riv felt a thrill run through her at that thought. As she grew up with the White-Wings, the warriors of the Bright Star were always considered allies, but also competition. The issue of who was better was an oft-asked question."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"We are.\n\nShe had seen a small group of the Order before. A scouting party sent to give information to Aphra on a suspected Kadoshim nest. There had been a giant upon one of their great bears-Riv was used to giants and bears, so that hadn't overly impressed her-as well as a huntsman with a brace of wolven-hounds and two more warriors. They had seemed to lack the discipline and uniformity that the White-Wings prided themselves upon, but they had all displayed a certain grace, an air of self-assurance and fluidity around them. And even when they were just standing, they exuded a confidence, a deep-seated knowledge and security in their abilities that set them apart as masters of their art.\n\nBecause war is an art. Just a deadly one.\n\nIt will be interesting to finally see them train. Maybe spar with a few of them.\n\n\"The Order of the Bright Star are none too fond of me,\" Kol said. \"I have had... disagreements with them in the past.\"\n\nSound like sensible people. She felt a smile twitch her mouth at the thought.\n\nHe shrugged and poured himself some more wine. \"The joys of ruling.\"\n\nThere was a surge of wind through the high-arched window, a turbulence as a Ben-Elim hovered in the air beyond. The guard standing there shifted to block entry, hefting his spear.\n\n\"I bear a message from Sariel,\" the Ben-Elim beyond the window called out.\n\n\"Let him in, Hadran,\" Kol said with a gesture, and the Ben-Elim in the window stepped back, raising his spear-point, though Riv noted that Hadran still held it ready.\n\nA Ben-Elim flew into the room, great white wings furling as he touched down gently and approached Kol. He was tall, his hair so fair it was almost white, and classically handsome in the Ben-Elim way, with chiselled features and sharp, intelligent eyes."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He held out a rolled parchment, proffering it to Kol.\n\n\"What does it say, Kamael?\"\n\n\"That you are summoned to the Moot, to answer for your deviation from the Way. It meets two days from now.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Kol sighed.\n\nHe seems to be doing a lot of that, lately.\n\n\"Anything else?\" Kol asked.\n\n\"Aye. We will decide on who will become the new Lord Protector,\" Kamael said.\n\nIna heartbeat Kol was on his feet, face a handspan from Kamael. To his credit, Kamael stood his ground, did not recoil or flinch.\n\n\"That is already decided,\" Kol said. \"The people have spoken.\"\n\n\"Sariel says differently,\" Kamael said. \"We Ben-Elim have not decided, and we both know that is all that matters.\"\n\nHe dismisses us like we are worthless insects. Riv realized she still considered herself human, not Ben-Elim, despite the obvious reminder of her mixed heritage that was sprouting from her back.\n\n\"We shall see,\" Kol said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Kamael agreed. \"Will you attend the Moot?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Kol said, and waved his hand in dismissal, turning away and returning to his seat.\n\nKamael stood and stared at him, then disdainfully threw the rolled-up parchment onto the table and walked away. He did not glance at the Ben-Elim guard as he stepped from the high tower window. A beat of his wings and he was gone.\n\nHadran looked out of the window, watching Kamael's departure.\n\nKol took the parchment and broke the seal, unrolled and read it. Sneered and tossed it over his shoulder."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\\nAuthor: John Gwynne\\nTitle: A Time of Blood\\nChapter: 18\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Ah, but it's good to have you back with us,\\\" Cullen said to Keld.\\n\\nKeld nodded, said something incomprehensible through a mouthful of brot.\\n\\nDrem was starting to feel a little worried about the huntsman. He knew that half a bowl of the foul-tasting gruel had filled him to bursting and made him feel as if he'd had a stomach full of lead for the next day and a half. Keld was on his third bowl.\\n\\nHe's going to eat himself to death.\\n\\nDrem handed Keld a spit of squirrel meat that had been turning over the fire. He was a trapper, after all, and had been sitting in this camp for six days. He'd had to do something, so their food bags were full, and brot, thankfully, was no longer a necessity. Keld looked up from his bowl and took the squirrel meat, tore off a chunk.\\n\\n\\\"It's hot, you might want to take it slo-\\\"\\n\\nKeld swallowed the chunk of meat, hardly chewing it, and ripped off another slab of meat.\\n\\n\\\"Never mind.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So, what trouble are we in?\\\" Keld asked, wiping grease from his mouth and beard.\\n\\n\\\"Remarkably, none that I can report on,\\\" Cullen said good-naturedly. \\\"I thought Fritha and her arsewipes would have sniffed us out by now.\\\" He patted his sword hilt. \\\"But thus far, no such luck.\\\" He gave his mad grin, the one that Drem was starting to associate with Cullen's desire for against-all-odds danger.\\n\\nThey'd told Keld of how the battle had ended, of the draig and their mad scramble for the river, of tying Keld to Hammer's back and leaping into the ice floe.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"After a day in the river Hammer dragged us onto the riverbank, managed to heave herself this far, and then collapsed. Since then we've been thawing our toes out by the fire, waiting for you to wake up...\\\" Cullen grinned.\\n\\n\\\"You should have left me, made for Dun Seren,\\\" Keld said, frowning. \\\"Byrne must know of what is happening in the north.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I wasn't going to be leaving you anywhere, not while there was breath in your body.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is too importan-\\\" Keld started to say, but Cullen held up a hand.\\n\\n\\\"\\\"We leave no one behind,\\\" remember,\\\" Cullen said, a surly expression twisting his mouth. \\\"It's part of my oath, so if you think I've done wrong, you can take it up with Byrne when we get back to Dun Seren.\\\" He stood and took their bowls. \\\"I'm going to wash these out.\\\" He paused at the tent flap. \\\"Maybe I should have left you, but Hammer's refused to move for six days, too. Hasn't even stood up since we got here. And Rab's gone to Dun Seren. Byrne will hear of Gulla whether we make it back or no.\\\" He turned and stomped off before Keld had a chance to speak.\\n\\nThe huntsman looked at Drem and gave him a wink.\\n\\n\\\"He's a good lad, our Cullen,\\\" Keld said, \\\"but he needs a bit of encouragement to use this sometimes.\\\" He tapped his temple with a finger.\\n\\n\\\"I think he was right,\\\" Drem said with a shrug. \\\"Rab should have reached Dun Seren by now.\\\" He paused, looking at Keld. \\\"Would you have done any different? I don't think you would.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah, maybe you're right, lad,\\\" Keld said, sighing. \\\"This knock to my head, and running away from half-breeds and traitors.\\\" He shook his head. \\\"Makes me angry.\\\" He stood slowly, stretched, Fen rising from his spot by the fire.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Best go and see Hammer, then, see if we can convince her to join us in a walk.\\\"\\n\\nKeld limped out of the tent, still carrying the remains of his squirrel breakfast. Drem tried to support him, but the huntsman gave Drem a dark look.\\n\\n\\\"If I can't walkout of a tent without help then I might as well throw myself back into the river,\\\" he growled.\\n\\nCullen returned from the riverbank and followed as they made for Hammer. Fen padded ahead of them. Drem could seethe wolven-hound was favouring his right foreleg, limping a little, but his ribs seemed to have set well enough, which he was relieved about.\\n\\n\\\"Hello, lass,\\\" Keld said gently, as he drew near to Hammer. The bear was sleeping, snoring loudly enough to shake pine cones from boughs in the trees around her. She roused at his voice, raised her head and gave out a rumbling sound that wasn't quite a growl.\\n\\nKeld crouched down beside the bear and wrapped a fist in the thick fur of her cheek.\\n\\n\\\"It's good to see you, lass,\\\" Keld said. He leaned into the bear, pressing his forehead against her long muzzle. Hammer dwarfed him, her head roughly the size of Keld's crouching body, but as Drem stared at them he thought there was something almost vulnerable about the bear. She made snuffling noises as she sniffed Keld.\\n\\n\\\"I miss Sig, too,\\\" Keld said, and more rumbling echoed from the bear's deep chest. \\\"She was the best of us, and no denying. And I can see you've had a hard time of it.\\\" He stroked one hand along scabbed cuts that scarred Hammer's muzzle, then ran his hand down to her shoulder, his fingers probing as he did so. She didn't complain, which Drem thought was a good sign.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Some squirrel?\\\" Keld said, offering Hammer the remains of his spitted breakfast.\\n\\nHammer took the food, hardly more than a morsel for her vast maw. Keld gestured with a hand, and Drem ran to their tent, fetched a whole squirrel and hurried back, giving it to Keld.\\n\\n\\\"You've had a hard time of it, lass, I've been beaten up, too,\\\" Keld was saying to the bear.\\n\\nFen rubbed his body against Hammer's side, whined and licked her mouth.\\n\\n\\\"And Fen, too,\\\" Keld said.\\n\\n\\\"Here you go,\\\" Keld said, pulling more pieces of meat off the skewer, bones and all. \\\"We're in a bit of a mess, you, me and Fen,\\\" Keld continued, \\\"but we can't just give up, now, can we? What would Sig think?\\\"\\n\\nMore squirrel went into Hammer's mouth, bones crunching.\\n\\nKeld stood up.\\n\\n\\\"Come on, girl, let's go home,\\\" he said, and gave a tug on the fur of her cheek. \\\"Let's do it for Sig. Make her proud.\\\"\\n\\nHammer raised her head, looking at him with her small, bright, intelligent eyes, then looked at Fen. The wolven-hound barked at her.\\n\\nA rumbling sound deep in Hammer's belly, then a slow shifting, like a whale rising out of the sea, and then Hammer was standing, her wounded leg shaking, her shoulder quivering.\\n\\nDrem looked at them, Keld, Fen and Hammer, the three of them battered and scarred, but not beaten. He felt a lump in his throat.\\n\\n\\\"Ah, see, she's just been waiting for Fen to join her and old Keld to wake up,\\\" Keld said over his shoulder to Drem and Cullen. \\\"Now, be right quick and break camp.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Drem took the rearguard position as they walked away from their campsite. Cullen was in the lead, Fen scouting a little ahead of him, Keld and Hammer in between. Keld had refused to even try and sit on Hammer's back, saying it would be too much for the bear, and Drem thought he was probably right. Hammer was upright and steadier than Drem had dared hope, but she was clearly weak on her left side; walking would be enough of atrial for her. They'd stripped all of her tack, bridle and saddlebags that had been strapped to her, and tried to share them out between each other. Anything they didn't class as essential had been left behind, but there was still a lot of extra weight on Drem's back. It didn't help that he had given himself extra baggage, deeming himself bigger and stronger than Cullen.\\n\\nBesides, if we end up in a fight, Cullen's the one who's most likely to save us with his swordcraft. He'll need his blade in his fist quick, and not have to be worrying about extricating himself from a mountain of packs.\\n\\nHe can be the fighter, I'll be the packhorse.\\n\\nDrem looked back at their old camp as they walked deeper into the pinewoods and smiled. If Fritha ever did catch up with them, he'd left a little surprise for her. He'd had six days to fill, after all, and there was only so much trapping he could do.\\n\\nHe set his face to the trail ahead and followed Hammer's gigantic furry backside.\\n\\nThey were climbing slowly upwards, curling through a sea of pine, following a path that Drem had tracked a little way during the last few days. Not really a path, more just about the only route that wasn't blocked by boulders, sheer cliffs or snow. It took them roughly south and east, which Drem judged was the way to Dun Seren.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"If we ever find away out of the Bonefells.\\n\\nThey were in uncharted territory, deep within the hills and mountains of the Bonefells, a western region that Olin had never taken Drem into before. From the tales in Kergard, no one else had tried, either. It had a bad reputation, with all manner of wild stories putting off sensible trappers.\\n\\nAnd now I know why.\\n\\nIf we manage to stay ahead of Fritha and her followers, we must have come through the worst of it. There can't be anything worse than draigs in these mountains and hills.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv stood in the shadows of one of the alcoves carved into the walls of Drassil's great keep. The walls curved in a vertiginous dome around the colossal tree trunk that the entire fortress of Drassil was built around. Riv was high above the ground, gazing down into the Great Hall where, far below her, people were gathering, flowing in through the wide gates and sitting upon the tiered stone steps of the Great Hall. Even from her lofty vantage point she could see almost every detail of those who came in. That was something else that had changed about her: her vision sharper and keener since she had grown her wings.\\n\\nRiv saw Bleda enter, felt something shift in her chest at the sight of him. She remembered him calling to her, that night on the road as they had been journeying back to Drassil. She knew he wanted her to explain why she was behaving like this, to tell him what was happening. She'd wanted nothing more than to fly back down to him and tell him everything. He must have heard Aphra's revelation at the cabin, that Kol washer father. Just the thought of it filled her with shame. She had wanted to tell Bleda of all that had happened in the cabin, that she had made a deal with him, sworn an oath, but only to protect Bleda and her friends. But something inside her would not, could not, tell him.\\n\\nHow could she tell him that she had made a deal with Kol! The man who had killed Bleda's brother and sister! Hard enough for Bleda to learn that Kol washer father. She still could not grasp it fully herself, and she felt a shame deep as her bones about it. There was a logical part of her that knew the shame she felt was ridiculous, that it was out of her control, that it was as deranged as feeling shame if you'd been born male or female, or in this town instead of that one but, nevertheless, that shame was there, like a worm in her veins. And, to be honest, the logical side of her never usually came out on top.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Bleda walked straight-backed, with a touch of the rolling gait that hinted at the master-horseman that Riv knew him to be.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His face was set, his cold-face in place, eyes scanning the room, taking everything in. This was the Bleda she had seen over the last six or seven years, but now she knew what she saw was merely the tip of the iceberg above water. There were great depths to him hidden beneath the surface.\\n\\nEllac and a few of his honour guard were ranged about Bleda, all stony-faced, as Riv would expect of the Sirak, and with them came Jin, Princess of the Cheren Clan and Bleda's betrothed. Riv felt her lips twist at the sight of the young woman. Not only had she entirely forgotten that Jin and Bleda had been betrothed as some kind of political union to bring the Clans of the Sirak and Cheren under the protective wing and control of the Ben-Elim, but she had also forgotten the depth of her dislike for Jin. She could not stand her arrogance, the way she spoke to Riv, or even looked at her. Or the way she looked at Bleda. Jin sat next to Bleda on the tiered steps, shuffled closer to him, leaned closer still and whispered something in his ear.\\n\\nRiv felt an almost overwhelming desire to fly down there, grab Jin by her hair and hoist her into the air. With a shuddering breath she fought the urge and forced herself to look away.\\n\\nA host of Ben-Elim were spread amongst the ever-growing crowd, thousands of them, more than Riv had ever seen before. Many Ben-Elim existed in the Banished Lands, three thousand, four thousand of them, maybe, scattered throughout the Land of the Faithful. There were over two thousand of them in the Great Hall right now.\\n\\nWhite-Wings, the elite warriors of the Ben-Elim, numbered in the region often thousand swords, most of them garrisoned along the borders of the Land of the Faithful. Between one and two thousand usually remained within Drassil's walls, guardians of the statues of Asroth and Meical, as well as a reserve force to deal with outbreaks of rebellion or the discovery of a Kadoshim nest. Far more than two thousand White-Wings were filing into the Great Hall. Ben-Elim and White-Wings-they had all returned from the four corners of the Land of the Faithful at Kol's summons, at the news of Israfil's death. At least two or threescore more Ben-Elim flew in lazy circles around the enormous expanse that towered over the hall, Riv recognizing them as some of Kol's most trusted men.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"On the ground, Kol sat upon a carved chair; the other chairs either side of him that were usually filled by Ben-Elim or giants were all empty. Behind him, though, were ranks of loyal Ben-Elim, three, four hundred at least, their chainmail bright, and on either flank were units of White-Wings, leather and steel polished and gleaming. On Kol's right stood Aphra with her hundred, Vald and Jost standing amongst their ranks, and on Kol's left Lorina with her hundred.\\n\\nFurther still behind Kol, the iron-coated figures of Asroth and Meical stood upon a wide dais, frozen and locked in their perpetual conflict. Meical, once High Captain of the Ben-Elim, was upon his knees, grasping at Asroth, the Lord of the Fallen. Asroth's leathery wings were spread, held in mid-flight, Meical pulling him back. One of Asroth's hands gripped Meical's throat; the other arm was pulled back as if to strike at him, except that now there was only a stump where Asroth's fist had been.\\n\\nBleda was here when the Kadoshim and their acolytes attacked Drassil and carved Asroth's right hand from his arm. He said he saw Asroth blink.\\n\\nSomething changed in the hall below her, the murmured hum of a crowd settling. Kol had stood from his seat.\\n\\nRiv sucked in a deep breath, knowing what was to come.\\n\\nHating what was to come.\\n\\n\\\"Greetings, people of the Land of the Faithful,\\\" Kol said. By some ingenious effect of the curved architecture of the hall, his voice echoed around the chamber, effortlessly filling the huge room. \\\"Both humankind and Ben-Elim, I am grateful that you have come so quickly at such a dark time.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He stepped forwards, everything about him assured and confident.\\n\\n\\\"Our high captain, Israfil, is dead, slain by a dread conspiracy amongst our own.\\\" He hung his head. \\\"It has been the greatest of tragedies.\\\"\\n\\nMurmurs rippled amongst the crowd.\\n\\nA Ben-Elim stepped out from the crowd, tall and finely handsome, dark hair pulled tight to his head and tied at the nape. He wore a cuirass of polished leather, embossed upon it a serpent, body coiling in a circle, at its apex two heads meeting, fangs bared. About his neck was a silver torc of twisted silver, the same two serpents' heads meeting. Riv recognized him as Sariel, a captain of the Ben-Elim rarely seen at Drassil. He led the legions who guarded the south-eastern border. The crowd hushed.\\n\\n\\\"Who?\\\" he said.\\n\\nKol met Sariel's eye and waited for the hall to become utterly silent.\\n\\n\\\"Adonai,\\\" Kol said.\\n\\nGasps and outraged shouts rippled around the chamber.\\n\\nThe Ben-Elim Adonai had been one of Kol's closest friends, one of his inner circle. He was also the father of Fia's baby. Israfil the Lord Protector had put Adonai on trial in this very room, found him guilty of consorting with a White-Wing. Israfil had drawn a sword and dealt out the punishment himself, hacking Adonai's wings from his back and exiling him from the Banished Lands.\\n\\nKol was telling the truth when he said it was Adonai who had slain Israfil. Riv had seen it with her own eyes. But Kol wasn't telling the whole truth. He did not say that when Adonai plunged a sword into Israfil's chest the Lord Protector was on his knees, Kol standing behind him with his knife to Israfil's throat.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And who is to say different of Adonai now. He is dead, slain by Bleda because Adonai was trying to kill me.\\n\\n\\\"Adonai did not accomplish this dark deed alone,\\\" Kol said to Sariel, though his voice filled the chamber. \\\"He had help; there were traitors within our own. Garidas, captain of a White-Wing hundred, aided him.\\\"\\n\\nRiv snorted a shocked laugh. Even though Kol had told her all that he was going to say, hearing him saying it out loud to all of Drassil made her feel physically sick.\\n\\nI liked Garidas. It is not right that he is blamed for this.\\n\\nBut what can I do to defend him? I am in this too deep now, cannot see a path out of this dark place. There is nothing I can do without breaking my oath to Kol and sentencing Bleda to death.\\n\\nShe realized her fists were clenched, knuckles white and popping.\\n\\n\\\"These are dark days, and filled with mourning,\\\" Kol continued. \\\"But the Banished Lands are not safe, the Kadoshim are stirring and we must be ever vigilant, must fulfil our sacred calling to protect mankind. We need to elect anew Lord Protector, and soon. Someone strong enough and wise enough to lead us through this war and claim the victory that has eluded us for so long.\\\" He looked away from Sariel now, eyes slowly taking in the vast crowd that filled the hall.\\n\\n\\\"As his chosen second in command, I nominate myself for the task,\\\" Kol said, spreading his arms and wings wide.\\n\\nA total silence.\\n\\nSariel's wings stirred, somehow commanding attention.\\n\\n\\\"The appointment of anew Lord Protector is a matter for the Ben-Elim to decide,\\\" he said. \\\"In council.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I grieve Israfil's loss as much as anyone,\\\" Kol continued, voice raised for the crowd, ignoring Sariel. \\\"But we must think of the future. The Land of the Faithful is not home to just us Ben-Elim; the races of men and giants dwell here. They should have a say.\\\"\\n\\nMurmuring spreading through the crowd, scattered shouts and cheers from many, especially large groups of White-Wings, but not them alone. Many of the free folk of Drassil, too-traders, smiths, farmers, all manner of people.\\n\\nSariel frowned. Riv noticed many of the Ben-Elim amidst the crowd shifting uncomfortably.\\n\\n\\\"This is anew world, anew age, and we should change with it, not keep it leashed,\\\" Kol said. \\\"I propose anew order, where Ben-Elim and mankind rule together. Israfil was a great leader, but he had one foot still in the Otherworld, was clinging to away of life that we left behind over a hundred years ago.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You should be silent,\\\" Sariel said furiously. \\\"This should be discussed in the Ben-Elim's council.\\\"\\n\\nSome jeers from the crowd, spreading. Riv knew who had started them: White-Wings allied to Kol set the task before this meeting had been convened.\\n\\n\\\"Why not speak freely, now?\\\" Kol said. \\\"I have nothing to hide. Do you, Sariel?\\\"\\n\\nAll eyes in the chamber turned upon the dark-haired Ben-Elim, whose face twitched.\\n\\n\\\"Of course not,\\\" Sariel said.\\n\\nKol is cunning, and a master of misdirection.\\n\\n\\\"And we are the Ben-Elim, protectors of these people, not their rulers. That is why we need to elect anew Lord Protector.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sariel stared at Kol, eyes wide with shock. They slowly narrowed.\\n\\n\\\"Stop this,\\\" Sariel said.\\n\\n\\\"These are not mere words,\\\" Kol said, continuing to ignore Sariel. \\\"I am proposing anew order, one that embraces these Banished Lands and the people who dwell within it, a land and people that we have come to value, to respect, to love.\\\"\\n\\nLove! Does Kol even know what that word means? He talks well, though, but then, he always has.\\n\\n\\\"And here is a symbol of my commitment to forge this new world.\\\" Kol looked up at Riv.\\n\\nRiv took a deep breath.\\n\\nShe had kept herself hidden since her return to Drassil, Kol flying her in during the dead of night, and hiding her away in the tower above the keep, once Israfil's chambers, but now taken by Kol.\\n\\nOthers were following Kol's gaze, looking upwards into the heights of the domed chamber.\\n\\nRiv hesitated in the shadows of the alcove, knew that her world was about to change again.\\n\\nHow am I here? How have I let myself become so ensnared in this mess, in Kol's scheming? But whatever I do, wherever I go, I will be reviled and hunted. This is a chance to change that. Avery slim chance, granted.\\n\\nDeep down she knew there was more to her choices than self-preservation. Her eyes searched out Aphra, saw her staring up at her, then she looked to Bleda, felt the anger and hardness within her soften, just fora moment.\\n\\nShe stepped out of the alcove and dropped into the huge expanse of the chamber, arms open wide, and let herself fall.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"People in the chamber gasped, pointed, a scream here and there.\\n\\nAnd then Riv spread her wings.\\n\\nA pulse of her wings checked her fall and fora moment she hovered high above the crowd, then tucked her wings in tight, dropping into a dive. A grin split her face, for despite everything, she loved to fly. People leaped away as she sped towards the ground, at the last moment spreading her wings wide to swoop low over the crowd, spinning in the air, spiralling up and looping so that she was behind and above Kol, where she hovered for long moments with slow, powerful beats of her wings, letting all seethe colour of her wings, the shape of her body, taking in the fact that she was not a Ben-Elim. That she was a woman and a half-breed. But a half-breed with feathered wings, not the skin and leather that the Kadoshim spawned.\\n\\nAnd she was wearing a black cuirass with two white wings embossed upon it, and a short-sword at her hip, the uniform of the White-Wings, Drassil's elite troops.\\n\\nThen she touched down, wings folding behind her shoulders, and she stood next to Kol.\\n\\nThings looked a lot different now that she was upon the ground. Her distance had given her a certain objectivity and detachment from the proceedings. Now she could seethe looks on people's faces, hear their individual mutterings, smell their fear. It felt overwhelming.\\n\\nA deep breath to keep the anger at bay.\\n\\nRemember the plan.\\n\\n\\\"What is this?\\\" Sariel said, revulsion twisting his face. He strode forwards, his hand going to the sword at his hip.\\n\\nRiv forced herself to remain still and calm, which was a lot harder to do than it had sounded when she and Kol had spoken of this moment, of how she must react. Especially when a Ben-Elim was coming at her, murder in his eyes. Her fingers twitched for her sword, but she kept her arm rigid at her side.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As one, the Ben-Elim behind Kol took a step forwards, the White-Wings to either side of him also moving, shields snapping up with an echoing crack. And suddenly Ben-Elim were circling above them, Kol's followers dropping lower.\\n\\nSariel paused, looking about and up.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing, Kol?\\\" His eyes were drawn back to Riv. \\\"This thing is an abomination,\\\" Sariel hissed; voices in the crowd called out their agreement.\\n\\nCries calling for Riv's execution rang out, her head snapping in the direction of the voices, searching for them. A white-haired Ben-Elim, about him a dozen White-Wings, men and women who had journeyed to Drassil with Sariel. She glared at them, tried to breathe deep and slow, knowing full well what would happen if she let her anger overwhelm her.\\n\\nRage.\\n\\nPain.\\n\\nThe executioner's block.\\n\\n\\\"Many of you know me,\\\" Riv said, a tremor in her voice, part rage, all emotion. She looked around, saw thousands of faces staring back at her, shouts drowning her out.\\n\\n\\\"LET HER SPEAK,\\\" Kol bellowed, and silence settled. \\\"Listen to her, before you judge,\\\" Kol said, calmer.\\n\\nRiv took a deep breath, gulped. \\\"Many of you know me,\\\" she repeated. \\\"I have lived here, at Drassil, my whole life. I have dreamed of becoming a White-Wing, of standing in the shield wall, of serving the Land of the Faithful, protecting its people, fighting against the evil that is the Kadoshim in our Great War. That is who I am, inhere.\\\" She put a fist to her heart.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Who is your father?\\\" Sariel snapped. \\\"Who committed this obscenity?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She does not know,\\\" Kol said, stepping forwards. \\\"And it does not matter. Many here know Riven, have grownup with her, taught her or trained beside her in the weapons-field. Marched on campaigns with her.\\\" He stopped, looking around at nodding heads.\\n\\n\\\"She is an abomination, evidence of a great sin,\\\" Sariel said. He was staring at Riv with disgust, eyes wide, drawn to her wings.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, she is evidence of the sins of her father, mayhap,\\\" Kol said before Riv had a chance to say anything. \\\"But she is not guilty of that sin herself. How can she beheld accountable for the crime that another has committed, long before she was even born?\\\"\\n\\nRiv's eyes scanned the crowd, saw expressions shifting, thoughtful, even a few nodding heads.\\n\\nThis is hopeful, she thought.\\n\\nShe looked at Sariel, who was staring death at her.\\n\\nNot so hopeful.\\n\\n\\\"She has wings,\\\" Sariel snarled.\\n\\n\\\"So, she has wings now.\\\" Kol shrugged. \\\"She is the same person that we have all known for seventeen years. She was not evil before; she has not become evil overnight. If there is any sin, it lies with her parentage, not her. She is innocent, guiltless. How can anyone of us beheld accountable for our parents' deeds? If that were so, every wrongdoing that has a judgement meted out would be inflicted upon the children of the wrongdoer. If a man commits murder and goes to the gallows for it, do we hang his sons and daughters, too? If a woman steals, do we cutoff the right hands of her children?\\\" Kol paused, allowing the implications of his words to sink into the crowd.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I have marched on a hundred campaigns with my sister's hundred,\\\" Riv said. \\\"Wished only to serve Elyon. I am one of the Faithful. I am a White-Wing, but with real wings.\\\" Riv grinned at Sariel, allowed her anger that small pleasure.\\n\\nSariel returned her stare, pinpricks of colour flushing his cheeks.\\n\\n\\\"Sariel, we Ben-Elim are Elyon's representatives on the earth,\\\" Kol continued calmly, sounding like the voice of reason, his voice inflected with hints of friendship, as if he were an arbitrator in a dispute, \\\"and Elyon is just and fair. He would not condemn the innocent.\\\" He raised his arms to the crowd. \\\"He would not condemn Riv fora crime she has not committed, or any others like her. And neither will I.\\\" He looked at Sariel. \\\"Would you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Sariel said without pause or thought.\\n\\nPeople in the crowd gasped, some jeered him.\\n\\nKol shook his head sadly, playing every inch the disappointed moral high ground. \\\"Let the people decide,\\\" Kol said. \\\"And, also let them decide who is to be their Lord Protector.\\\" He unfurled his wings, beat them and rose into the air, hovering above Sariel. \\\"Today you have the chance to choose your own future,\\\" he shouted to the host that filled the Great Hall. \\\" Today you make your own history.\\n\\n\\\"Would you condemn Riv to death for the sins of her father? Whoever he is.\\\"\\n\\nA silence, growing longer, Riv feeling she was standing on the brink of an abyss, one foot hovering over it, unsteady.\\n\\n\\\"Let her live,\\\" a voice cried out. Riv's head snapped towards it, and she was looking straight at Bleda. He returned her gaze and said it again-shouted it this time-and Ellac joined his voice to Bleda's, some of his guards, too.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then others in the crowd were shouting it out: Ben-Elim who followed Kol scattered amongst the crowd, but others as well, White-Wings whom Riv had trained with, market stallholders whom she had bought food from, haggled with, blacksmiths she had laughed with, and then it felt as if the entire crowd was roaring, \\\"LIVE, LIVE, LIVE.\\\"\\n\\nRiv blew out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. A smile spread across her face.\\n\\nKol smiled at Riv, and then at Sariel, who looked as if he'd just swallowed a bucketful of angry wasps.\\n\\nThe crowd quietened.\\n\\n\\\"And who would you choose to lead you?\\\" Kol called out. \\\"Who would you trust not only to lead you against the Kadoshim, but to take us into anew age of peace and harmony? Him?\\\"\\n\\nKol pointed at Sariel.\\n\\n\\\"Stand for him, now, if you wish him to lead you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kol. This is not the way,\\\" Sariel was hissing, but people were already standing, some shouting Sariel's name. It was mostly Ben-Elim in the crowd who stood-more than two hundred, fewer than three hundred. White-Wings joined them-again, hundreds, not thousands, and a sprinkling of others.\\n\\n\\\"Or me?\\\" Kol cried out as Sariel's followers sat.\\n\\nIt seemed to Riv that the entire host stood as one, though of course they did not. The end was the same, though, the balance so obviously, overwhelmingly, in Kol's favour. Ben-Elim and White-Wings in the crowd roared Kol's name, until Riv fought the urge to clasp her hands over her ears.\\n\\n\\\"This is not over,\\\" Sariel said quietly to Kol. Only Riv heard over the din of the crowd. \\\"The Ben-Elim council will meet. This means nothing, and you know it.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It is over, Sariel. Look about you.\\\" Kol gestured at the cheering crowd, smiling his beautiful smile. \\\"This is everything.\\\"\\n\\nSariel looked about the chamber, listening to the horde roaring Kol's name. He turned to leave, other Ben-Elim stepping from the crowd, some White-Wings with them, waiting for Sariel.\\n\\nSariel looked at Riv. \\\"She is an abomination,\\\" he said again, quietly, shaking his head.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Kol said. \\\"She is the future.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha crept through the trees, Morn walking beside her, a dozen of her Red Right Hand spread either side of them both, Gunil and her Ferals further back. Gunil was walking alongside Claw, who had made a sudden recovery from her wounds, the inflammation and infections peaking and then fading. The forest was still and quiet, only the sound of the wind soughing in the trees, the dripping of snow as it melted from boughs. Another sound filtered into her senses, soft as a sigh at first, growing as she stole through the trees. Constant.\\n\\nThe river. I can hear the river. We must be close.\\n\\nMorn stopped and held up a hand, palm splayed, facing down. She pointed through the trees.\\n\\nFritha stared, could only see trees, what looked like a granite boulder in the distance.\\n\\nMorn walked on, but Fritha put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her, at the same time signalling for two of her followers to goon ahead.\\n\\nMorn scowled at Fritha, but she obeyed.\\n\\nHow long will that last, I wonder? Until her wing heals?\\n\\nMorn had all but collapsed when Arn had carried her into the hold's feast-hall. Fritha had tended to her, spoken words of power over the wound in Morn's wing, a deep cut where the muscle and cartilage that supported her wing-arch met the muscle and tendons in her back. It was healing, but not fully recovered yet.\\n\\nFritha had left Arn with Elise and five of her Red Right Hand to act as guards for the prisoners at the hold. It left Fritha with ten of her acolytes, plus thirteen of her surviving Ferals. Not the greatest warband in the world, but Morn had told Fritha that she had only fought against two men, Drem and the younger warrior, the red-haired fire-cracker, Cullen. Though she had seen a figure inside their tent, which must have been the huntsman, the fact he had not joined the fight against Morn suggested he was wounded.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Wounded, I hope. Dead he's no use tome.\\n\\nTwenty-six of us. We are enough to take two healthy men and one wounded. Gulla will be pleased when I return with Drem and two warriors of the Order; success will erase my failure to stop word of us reaching Dun Seren.\\n\\nThey were close to the boulder now, her two men scouting ahead, flitting shadows between the trees.\\n\\nMorn stopped again, frowning.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Fritha whispered.\\n\\n\\\"Their tent is gone,\\\" the half-breed whispered.\\n\\nThere was the sound of snapping branches, a thud, followed by a scream.\\n\\nFritha put her fingers to her lips and whistled, heard an answering howl behind her and then she was rushing forwards, past Morn, her spear levelled, eyes searching everywhere. Screams echoed through the trees.\\n\\nOne of the two scouts was standing before a hole in the ground. Fritha reached him and looked down, saw a pit filled with stakes, the other scout skewered through the belly, shoulder and thigh, eyes glazing-then still.\\n\\nThis is Drem's work.\\n\\nFritha turned in a slow circle, scanning the area, trees spread wide, though the canopy was dense above. The Ferals appeared out of the gloom, the bulk of Gunil and his bear not far behind them.\\n\\n\\\"Cuardaigh,\\\" Fritha ordered, and the Ferals dropped to all fours, began sniffing and snuffling through the area.\\n\\nThe ground vibrated as Gunil joined her, his bear a score of paces behind. He stared around the empty space, saw the marks in the ground where a tent had stood.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They're gone,\\\" the giant said, then he looked down into the stake pit. \\\"He's dead.\\\"\\n\\nFritha gave Gunil a dark look.\\n\\n\\\"Search the area, with care,\\\" she called out.\\n\\n\\\"Their tent was here,\\\" Morn said, pointing at the ground just beyond the pit. She stretched, arching her back and extending her wings, a tentative flexing.\\n\\n\\\"It feels good,\\\" Morn said, rolling one shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Be carefu-\\\" But Morn was already jumping into the air and beating her wings. They took her weight, and she hovered there a few moments, then rose slowly in a wide spiral.\\n\\n\\\"I will see things differently from up here,\\\" she called down.\\n\\nOne of Fritha's Ferals was snorting at the base of a huge boulder. Then it stood on two legs, sniffed the air and trotted off, away from the sound of the river.\\n\\nFritha followed.\\n\\nIt led her along a wide path that sloped gently upwards. Abruptly the Feral stopped, looking down at its foot. A length of twine had snagged around it.\\n\\n\\\"NO,\\\" Fritha shouted as the Feral gave a tug, snapping the twine.\\n\\nA whistling sound, a thud, something cutting through air and then the Feral was battered from his feet and hurled a dozen paces, slamming into a tree. It slid to the ground, blood leaking from nose and mouth, bones protruding from its smashed ribcage.\\n\\nA felled tree trunk hung suspended across the path, creaking as it swung back and forth.\\n\\nFritha ran to her fallen Feral, saw it was already too late. She crouched beside it, stroked its misshapen jaws, then she raised her head to the trees and screeched her fury.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She blinked away tears and saw Morn standing over her.\\n\\n\\\"Come, my spear-sister,\\\" Morn said, holding out a hand to Fritha. \\\"We will hunt them together.\\\"\\n\\nFritha looked at Morn's proffered hand a few moments, then reached out and took it, rising to her feet.\\n\\n\\\"We have found their tracks,\\\" Morn said. \\\"That way.\\\" She pointed south-east, into dense woodland.\\n\\nFritha nodded, and without a word she was moving, along the path Morn had pointed to.\\n\\nA beating of wings and Morn was in the air, while the Ferals and Red Right Hand fell into place around Fritha. It made her feel strong.\\n\\nDrem, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth, and make you pay for what you have done.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fen stopped in front of Drem, the wolven-hound's ears pricked forwards, a low snarl and his hackles raised in a ridge between his shoulders. Drem pulled to a sudden halt, swaying with the weight of the packs upon his back.\\n\\nThey were standing close to the ridge of along, shallow incline that they'd been steadily climbing the whole day, pine still thick about them, for which Drem was grateful. He had a compulsion to check the skies continually for leathery wings. Without thinking, he found himself looking skywards again, although most of it was obscured by layered boughs of pine. Here and there agleam of light broke through, a few snowflakes drifting down like white leaves.\\n\\nDoes it snow eternally in the Bonefells?\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Keld said, joining Drem. The huntsman was sweating and pale but had managed to keep walking from sunset to sundown for the last four days. Keld ate like a starving man each evening and morning, and slept like the dead each night. Drem thought he saw a slight improvement in the huntsman each day.\\n\\nDrem pointed to Fen, who was alert, totally focused on something he could sense or hear.\\n\\nDrem couldn't hear anything.\\n\\n\\\"What's the holdup?\\\" Cullen breathed, striding up from behind Hammer.\\n\\n\\\"Whisht,\\\" Keld said, holding up a hand and cocking his head to one side.\\n\\nCullen was silent for long moments. The gentle snowfall had a muting effect on the pinewoods, as if the world were holding its breath.\\n\\n\\\"I can't hear anyth-\\\"\\n\\nThen they all heard it. A distant roar.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Behind them Hammer rumbled, deep in her belly.\\n\\nDrem looked at Keld.\\n\\n\\\"It sounds like... a bear,\\\" Drem said. He put his hand to his throat, found his pulse.\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Keld agreed.\\n\\nThey heard it again, clearer. Beyond the ridge, almost dead south.\\n\\n\\\"Think we should go around,\\\" Drem said, thinking of Fritha's giant and his bear.\\n\\n\\\"Good idea,\\\" Keld said.\\n\\n\\\"Be quicker to go straight on,\\\" Cullen said. \\\"Kill it, whatever it is, if we have to.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do you never get tired of fighting, lad?\\\" Keld snapped.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Cullen said without hesitation, looking at Keld as if he were mad.\\n\\nAnother roar, sounding louder, closer. There was an odd note in it. Drem had heard a lot of roaring from bears lately, challenging, fighting. This wasn't quite like that. Still...\\n\\n\\\"We'll go around,\\\" Keld said firmly.\\n\\nHammer snorted behind them, dug a gout of forest litter with a paw and broke into a lumbering run, surging past them, limping a little, but showing more energy than at any point since she'd leaped into the river.\\n\\n\\\"What's got under her skin?\\\" Keld frowned.\\n\\n\\\"Don't know, but whatever it is, we can't let her face it alone,\\\" Cullen said, hefting the pack on his back and breaking into a laboured run.\\n\\nKeld scowled. \\\"Damn it.\\\" And then he was running, too, Fen keeping pace with him.\\n\\nDrem sighed and followed.\\n\\nCresting the ridge, a gentle downward slope running away from him, Drem glimpsed to his right the sharp rise of a cliff face running parallel to his course, probably a few hundred paces away. To his left was a sea of trees.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Another roar, louder, that same odd edge to it that struck Drem as unusual. Then it dawned on him what it was.\\n\\nFear.\\n\\nNo; terror.\\n\\nHe caught up with Keld, the pack on Drem's back actually increasing his speed as he ran downhill. He saw the bulk of Hammer ahead, and close behind her Cullen, legs pumping away like a racing hare as he tried to catch up with the bear.\\n\\nDrem glanced at Keld, saw that he was sweating and blowing a little, but looking as if he had it all under control.\\n\\nThe pinewoods were opening up, huge boulders scattered around them, looking like the long-buried skulls of giants poking from the forest floor. Snow was thicker on the ground as the density of the treetop canopy lessened.\\n\\nAn ear-splitting roar, very close now, and then Hammer was slowing. Drem heard an answering roar from her. Cullen finally caught up with her and skidded to a halt beside the bear.\\n\\nThirty paces from them, Drem's breath and pounding heart was all he could hear. He saw Cullen shoulder off his pack, draw his sword.\\n\\nNever a good sign.\\n\\nDrem drew his seax and a hand-axe in preparation. There were the two bears roaring, the sound of timber splintering, and something else, a sound beneath the clangour, constant, though ebbing and flowing-a hissing, like steam.\\n\\nAnd then Drem was there, running around Hammer, almost colliding with Cullen.\\n\\nFor long moments he could not understand what was happening in front of them.\\n\\nStruggling in the centre of a glade, there was a giant white bear.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Drem's breath caught in his throat as his hand went to the bear claw around his neck.\\n\\nIs it my bear? The one that nearly killed me and Da?\\n\\nHe tried to check if it was missing a claw on its right paw, but it was impossible to tell, because the bear was fighting for its life.\\n\\nBone-white things, like huge coils of pearly rope, were looped and twisted around the bear-around its torso, its neck, its legs. Fora moment Drem thought the bear must have become caught in some giant kind of net, with rope as thick as Drem's chest, except that the rope around the white bear had teeth. More than one set of teeth.\\n\\nAnd they were ripping the bear to shreds.\\n\\nKeld skidded to a halt beside Drem.\\n\\n\\\"Wyrms!\\\" he hissed.\\n\\nFen crouched and growled, baring his teeth in a savage snarl.\\n\\nHave I stepped out of the real into a world of faery tales?\\n\\nThe tales told of an ancient creature, bred thousands of years ago by giants and used in the War of Treasures; giant wyrms, snake-like, but bigger, much, much bigger, and the wyrms in front of Drem were a thousand times bigger than any adder he'd ever seen. For once, the tales didn't seem to have exaggerated.\\n\\nThey were huge, red-eyed sinuous lengths of scale and muscle, their jaws flat-muzzled and rowed with teeth. Drem counted at least four sets of eyes and teeth, though it was hard to understand where one wyrm ended and another began, not helped by the way the white bear was lurching around the glade, trying to break free of the coiled loops that were binding and constricting his movement.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The white bear was huge, at least ahead taller and wider than Hammer, but it was obvious that it was losing this fight. Bloodstained its white fur, oozing from dozens of puncture wounds, and the coils of the wyrms were wrapping ever-tighter about its torso, as well as seeking to tether the bear's legs. Its jaws were wide, clamping onto scales. The bear's teeth sank deep and it shook its head savagely, blood and scales spraying, but the wyrm just hissed and bared its fangs, twisting and bucking in muscular spasms to break free.\\n\\nThe white bear slashed with a paw, scouring red lines across the wyrm's body, and Drem saw fora clear moment that one claw was missing from the bear's paw.\\n\\nIt is my bear, then.\\n\\nHis instinct was to go and help this bear, though a voice whispered in his head that he was mad to think of such a thing.\\n\\nIt is the wild, nature's way, the voice said. The strong kill and eat the weak. You have done it a thousand times yourself.\\n\\nAnd yet...\\n\\nIt was his white bear, and he felt a sympathy for it, some kind of bond. The first time he'd encountered it, the bear had tried to kill him and his da. Not the best beginning, he acknowledged. They had only just escaped, Drem cutting a claw from its paw, which he had worn around his neck ever since. It had not been long after that corpses had started turning up in the forests north of Kergard, torn and mauled with tooth and claw. Old Bodil, Calder the smith, Hask, Fritha's grandfather. Even the death of Olin, Drem's da, had been attributed to the white bear. But Drem had discovered the truth of it, that the true murderers were Fritha and her giant's bear.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The white bear had been hunted by the people of Kergard, trapped and caught, dragged back to the town and caged as atrophy. It had been close to a bear-baiting from the town's huntsmen and their hounds.\\n\\nDrem had set the bear free.\\n\\nEven now he didn't quite understand why he had done so, only that he had felt a huge sympathy for it, this magnificent creature of the wild, blamed and about to be murdered for acts it had not committed.\\n\\nThe white bear roared, rage, pain, terror, all rolled into one, and Drem took a step towards it.\\n\\nDon't be a fool. Walk on-you must reach Dun Seren, a voice in his head said. Those wyrms will kill you all. And besides, why try and save a bear that would be as likely to eat you as to thank you?\\n\\nDespite the voice in his head, he took another step forwards, felt Keld's grip on his wrist, looked at the huntsman, saw Cullen staring at him as well.\\n\\nAnd then Hammer was moving, roaring, throwing herself at the wyrms wrapped around the white bear.\\n\\nCullen shrugged, grinned and charged.\\n\\nSo did Drem.\\n\\nHe heard Keld swear behind him, then the sound of the huntsman and Fen following in his wake.\\n\\nSnow on the ground had been churned to pink sludge. Drem's boots slipped as he chopped with his hand-axe at a twist of wyrm-coil that was looped around the white bear's foreleg. The axe pierced scales, but it was tough, and the blade did not sink deep. He stabbed with his seax, this time piercing flesh, his blade sinking to the hilt, dark, glutinous blood thick as porridge leaking from the wound, but Drem wasn't sure what real damage he had inflicted. The wyrm was not responding, as if it hadn't even felt his blows.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"To his right he glimpsed Hammer sink her teeth into wyrm flesh, puncturing deep, and in a heartbeat a wyrm head was rearing, loosening a coil about the white bear, hissing, its malevolent red eyes fixing on Hammer.\\n\\nIt felt that, Drem thought.\\n\\nThe wyrm's jaws opened unnaturally wide, full of too many teeth, as its head drew back and struck at Hammer. She jerked away, but the wyrm was so swift, its teeth clamping onto her neck. Hammer shook violently, but the wyrm's bite held fast. A flash of steel, and Cullen was there, screaming, chopping at the wyrm's neck, Hammer retreating, tugging the wyrm with her, dragging its coiled length away from the white bear.\\n\\nThe wyrm did not seem to want to let go its grip on either bear, tail coiled around the white bear, fangs sunk deep into Hammer.\\n\\nGouts of flesh and viscous blood flew through the air as Cullen struck and hacked.\\n\\nDrem left his seax and hand-axe in the wyrm he'd attacked, pivoted and drew his father's sword. Raising it high overhead, he rushed over to Cullen and Hammer, bringing his blade down diagonally-lightning strike, his father's voice whispered in his head-slicing deep into the wyrm flesh, the treacle-like blood seeping out. He raised and cut again, and then again, deeper into the great rent in the wyrm's torso, until a white fluid started mixing with the dark red of its blood. Cullen stood the other side of the wyrm, his blade rising and falling in a frenzy, more butcher than sword master.\\n\\nDrem glimpsed bone through the carnage of his blows, felt his sword grate on vertebrae. The wyrm, finally relinquishing its grip on Hammer, twisted to look unsteadily at Drem and Cullen, much of its supportive muscle and sinew severed. It bared its fangs at them, snapping at Cullen, but Hammer's paw swatted it to the ground, the two men still hacking frenziedly, until, with a final blow from Drem, the severed head fell. Its lower body and tail twitched and spasmed, and then was still.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hammer gave out a victory roar, stamped on the wyrm's head for good measure, and then leaped forwards, swiping at another wyrm wrapped around the white bear.\\n\\n\\\"Some help!\\\" Keld cried out. Drem turned to seethe huntsman clinging to the back of another wyrm, just below its head, legs and one arm wrapped around the wyrm, his hand-axe rising and falling as he slashed and hacked. This wyrm had detached itself from the white bear and was giving all of its attention to Keld. Fen was leaping in, biting, ripping out chunks of flesh, then jumping away as the tail whipped at him.\\n\\nDrem and Cullen ran to Keld, began their butcher's work again.\\n\\nA tail-strike caught Cullen, sent him spinning through the air.\\n\\nThe wyrm's head came for Drem, darting forwards, quick as thought.\\n\\nDrem stabbed his sword up, by immense luck more than skill connected his sword-point with the wyrm's lower jaw, a burst of instinctive terror adding a wild strength to his blow, punching on up into its head, pinning the jaws together. It flopped to the ground, dragging Drem with it, Keld rolling away, the wyrm's head shaking frenziedly. Finding purchase with his feet, Drem pushed, driving his sword deeper, felt it scrape on the top of the wyrm's skull. He twisted his sword. A ripple of spasms through the wyrm's body as it died.\\n\\nDrem stood, heaved his blade free.\\n\\nThen he was flying through the air, lost his grip on his sword and rolled a dozen paces. Scrambling to his knees, he saw a wyrm speeding towards him, jaws open, fangs dripping. He lurched to one side as the head stabbed at him, fast as a spear-strike. Ashe staggered to his feet, the tail wrapped around his ankles. His natural inclination was to run, but as his ankles were crushed tight together, all he managed to do was fall over. Another coil looped around him. He started to panic, searched fora weapon-his belt empty, his sword out of reach-resorted to punching ineffectually at the thick coils as they constricted around him. Another ripple of muscle and another few loops curled around him, pinning one arm to his side, covering his stomach and lower chest.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He screamed. Regretted that when another constriction squeezed his breath out of him, made it difficult for him to inhale.\\n\\nThe wyrm's head reared in front of him, a malignant hiss, a tongue flickering, filled with the stench of rotting meat.\\n\\nCullen appeared, sword stabbing into the wyrm's mouth, the wyrm rearing away, its coils loosening around Drem. He sucked in air greedily and squirmed free. Keld offered him a hand and helped him rise. Cullen followed the wyrm, slashed up, left to right in a diagonal cut, like a scabbard-draw, opened a great rent in the wyrm's torso. Its head lunged at him, even as he stabbed straight into its belly, its jaws opening, vomiting blood as Cullen's blade sank deep, and two-handed he ripped it upwards, opening its guts as if he were filleting a giant fish.\\n\\nThe wyrm's jaws closed around Cullen's head and shoulders, but it was dying, its strength deserting it, the power in its jaws fading. Teeth locked around Cullen, scraping on his skin, but not piercing much deeper than that. The wyrm collapsed in an explosion of blood and slime, dragging Cullen down, burying him in a mountain of its entrails.\\n\\nAn earth-shaking roaring grabbed their attention, Drem looking to see Hammer and the white bear clamping jaws into another wyrm, both of them shaking their muscled necks, tugging the wyrm in two directions. There was a tearing sound as they chewed and tore the creature in half.\\n\\nThe last surviving wyrm uncoiled itself from the white bear's neck and wove unsteadily from the glade, disappearing through foliage into the cover of woodland in half a heartbeat.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The white bear lifted its head and roared, spittle flying, the ground quaking. It took a staggering step after its fleeing attacker, then a shudder rippled through its body and its front legs collapsed. It toppled onto its side, its chest rising and falling in short, shallow gasps.\\n\\n\\\"Help... me,\\\" a muffled voice called.\\n\\nCullen!\\n\\nDrem and Keld ran to the pile of dead wyrm, heaved its lifeless bulk away to reveal Cullen buried in a heap of offal, slime and putrescence.\\n\\nCullen sat up, looked at Drem, wiped wyrm slime from his face. Spat more of it up. Retched. There was no grin from him now.\\n\\n\\\"Drem, a question.\\\" Cullen spat out more slime. \\\"Why the hell would you choose to live out here?\\\"\\n\\nDrem stared at Cullen, started to chuckle, looked at Keld, who laughed, too, and then Drem was throwing his head back and laughing from the pit of his stomach. He hadn't laughed in along while, and especially not like this, a deep, uncontrolled laughter that shook his core, rattled his bones and made his jaw ache.\\n\\n\\\"Well,\\\" he said, cuffing tears away when he could finally draw breath. \\\"At least things can't get any worse.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Can they not?\\\" Cullen said, eyes drifting up.\\n\\nDrem followed his gaze, and saw a black silhouette high above them, framed against the luminous glow of snow clouds.\\n\\nA black silhouette with wide, bat-like wings.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Kol poured Riv a cup of wine.\\n\\nI hate it here.\\n\\nThey were sitting in Kol's chambers, situated in a tower high above Drassil's Great Hall. Not too long ago it had been Israfil's chambers, and Riv could still seethe bloodstains upon the flagstoned floor.\\n\\nIt is a constant reminder of why I hate Kol. My mo–, no, my grandmother Dalmae died in these chambers. And Kol insists that I stay here, still, when all I want is to return to my siste–, no, my mother's barracks.\\n\\nHer head was still spinning with the changes in her life. Kol and his deeds were ever-present in her head and heart, a constant test of herself-control. Because her anger was still there, a swirling tornado in the pit of her belly that threatened to drag her into its violent grip.\\n\\nShe knew where that always ended.\\n\\nBlood and violence.\\n\\nAnd she could not allow that to happen, for Vald and Jost's sake.\\n\\nFor Bleda's sake.\\n\\nAnd Kol is my father. She stared at him, a mixture of revulsion and fascination shifting through her.\\n\\nA tall, high-arched window let in gusts of cold air, though a Ben-Elim stood before it, jet-black hair braided and tied at the neck.\\n\\nBen-Elim do not only guard doors. An attack is just as likely to come through a window as through a door.\\n\\n\\\"I think that went quite well,\\\" Kol said, pouring wine for Aphra and Lorina as well. He was talking about the meeting yesterday in the Great Hall, as this was the first time they had all met since then.\\n\\n\\\"Before we drink,\\\" Kol said, \\\"we need something to toast.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Other than me being still alive, Riv thought.\\n\\n\\\"I remember my friends and reward loyalty,\\\" Kol said. \\\"And as I'm in the mood for making changes, you two are now promoted.\\\" He raised his cup to Aphra and Lorina. \\\"You are now my two high captains of the White-Wings. Five hundred swords for each of you.\\\"\\n\\nRiv blinked at that. The White-Wings numbered in total around ten thousand strong. They had never had high captains, had always been divided into hundreds. Riv had never thought twice of it before, but now she found herself questioning everything, and in hindsight considered the demarcation of the White-Wings into comparatively small groups of a hundred as another way that the Ben-Elim had maintained their control. Drassil's garrison was traditionally a thousand White-Wings, and now Kol was giving them allover to Aphra and Lorina, the two captains who had supported his coup.\\n\\nAphra frowned, but said nothing, and Lorina smiled, the act not much changing her dark, severe features.\\n\\n\\\"So, to my new high captains, and to anew order. Cheers,\\\" Kol said, raising his own cup. Aphra and Lorina also raised theirs and drank. Kol stared at Riv, arching an eyebrow.\\n\\nRiv did not feel much like celebrating, still remembering Sariel's look of revulsion as he had called her an abomination.\\n\\nBut I am still alive, and it looks as if I will not be put to death in the immediate future. That's something, I suppose.\\n\\nShe sipped red wine from her cup, discovered that she liked the taste.\\n\\n\\\"That's the spirit,\\\" Kol said.\\n\\nRiv found his endless joviality irritating.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A day had passed since Kol's revelation in the Great Hall, during which Riv had kept herself hidden away in these chambers. She was greatly encouraged by the response of Drassil's residents to her, after Kol had worked a little of his oratory magic, and a large dose of manipulation.\\n\\nBut alive is alive.\\n\\n\\\"So, now the Ben-Elim and Drassil's residents are reconciled to... you-\\\" Kol looked at Riv-\\\"thus paving the way to a more relaxed, intimate relationship between Ben-Elim and mankind.\\\" He drank from his cup, smiled.\\n\\n\\\"It just leaves Ethlinn and her giants to win over,\\\" Aphra said.\\n\\n\\\"They will be far easier to pacify than Sariel and his Ben-Elim,\\\" Lorina murmured.\\n\\n\\\"I should hope so.\\\" Kol sighed. \\\"Though I doubt we have heard the last of Sariel.\\\" He shrugged. \\\"The first and hardest step has been made. As for the giants, I think once the situation is on firm ground here, that I should take my new... figurehead to go and see Ethlinn and her giants.\\\"\\n\\nFigurehead! Riv didn't like that.\\n\\n\\\"Where is Ethlinn?\\\" Riv asked.\\n\\n\\\"Dun Seren.\\\" Kol sighed again. \\\"I suppose I may as well deal with them as well as the giants and get this allover and done with.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Order of the Bright Star?\\\" Riv said.\\n\\n\\\"Aye. Aden of stiff-necked fools, but stiff-necked fools that we need, at least until the Kadoshim are annihilated.\\\" He smiled.\\n\\nKol's going to take me to the Order of the Bright Star! Riv felt a thrill run through her at that thought. As she grew up with the White-Wings, the warriors of the Bright Star were always considered allies, but also competition. The issue of who was better was an oft-asked question.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"We are.\\n\\nShe had seen a small group of the Order before. A scouting party sent to give information to Aphra on a suspected Kadoshim nest. There had been a giant upon one of their great bears-Riv was used to giants and bears, so that hadn't overly impressed her-as well as a huntsman with a brace of wolven-hounds and two more warriors. They had seemed to lack the discipline and uniformity that the White-Wings prided themselves upon, but they had all displayed a certain grace, an air of self-assurance and fluidity around them. And even when they were just standing, they exuded a confidence, a deep-seated knowledge and security in their abilities that set them apart as masters of their art.\\n\\nBecause war is an art. Just a deadly one.\\n\\nIt will be interesting to finally see them train. Maybe spar with a few of them.\\n\\n\\\"The Order of the Bright Star are none too fond of me,\\\" Kol said. \\\"I have had... disagreements with them in the past.\\\"\\n\\nSound like sensible people. She felt a smile twitch her mouth at the thought.\\n\\nHe shrugged and poured himself some more wine. \\\"The joys of ruling.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a surge of wind through the high-arched window, a turbulence as a Ben-Elim hovered in the air beyond. The guard standing there shifted to block entry, hefting his spear.\\n\\n\\\"I bear a message from Sariel,\\\" the Ben-Elim beyond the window called out.\\n\\n\\\"Let him in, Hadran,\\\" Kol said with a gesture, and the Ben-Elim in the window stepped back, raising his spear-point, though Riv noted that Hadran still held it ready.\\n\\nA Ben-Elim flew into the room, great white wings furling as he touched down gently and approached Kol. He was tall, his hair so fair it was almost white, and classically handsome in the Ben-Elim way, with chiselled features and sharp, intelligent eyes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He held out a rolled parchment, proffering it to Kol.\\n\\n\\\"What does it say, Kamael?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That you are summoned to the Moot, to answer for your deviation from the Way. It meets two days from now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see.\\\" Kol sighed.\\n\\nHe seems to be doing a lot of that, lately.\\n\\n\\\"Anything else?\\\" Kol asked.\\n\\n\\\"Aye. We will decide on who will become the new Lord Protector,\\\" Kamael said.\\n\\nIna heartbeat Kol was on his feet, face a handspan from Kamael. To his credit, Kamael stood his ground, did not recoil or flinch.\\n\\n\\\"That is already decided,\\\" Kol said. \\\"The people have spoken.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sariel says differently,\\\" Kamael said. \\\"We Ben-Elim have not decided, and we both know that is all that matters.\\\"\\n\\nHe dismisses us like we are worthless insects. Riv realized she still considered herself human, not Ben-Elim, despite the obvious reminder of her mixed heritage that was sprouting from her back.\\n\\n\\\"We shall see,\\\" Kol said.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Kamael agreed. \\\"Will you attend the Moot?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course,\\\" Kol said, and waved his hand in dismissal, turning away and returning to his seat.\\n\\nKamael stood and stared at him, then disdainfully threw the rolled-up parchment onto the table and walked away. He did not glance at the Ben-Elim guard as he stepped from the high tower window. A beat of his wings and he was gone.\\n\\nHadran looked out of the window, watching Kamael's departure.\\n\\nKol took the parchment and broke the seal, unrolled and read it. Sneered and tossed it over his shoulder.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2297,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Collaborate with the author and advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 22"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He held out a rolled parchment, proffering it to Kol.\n\n\"What does it say, Kamael?\"\n\n\"That you are summoned to the Moot, to answer for your deviation from the Way. It meets two days from now.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Kol sighed.\n\nHe seems to be doing a lot of that, lately.\n\n\"Anything else?\" Kol asked.\n\n\"Aye. We will decide on who will become the new Lord Protector,\" Kamael said.\n\nIna heartbeat Kol was on his feet, face a handspan from Kamael. To his credit, Kamael stood his ground, did not recoil or flinch.\n\n\"That is already decided,\" Kol said. \"The people have spoken.\"\n\n\"Sariel says differently,\" Kamael said. \"We Ben-Elim have not decided, and we both know that is all that matters.\"\n\nHe dismisses us like we are worthless insects. Riv realized she still considered herself human, not Ben-Elim, despite the obvious reminder of her mixed heritage that was sprouting from her back.\n\n\"We shall see,\" Kol said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Kamael agreed. \"Will you attend the Moot?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Kol said, and waved his hand in dismissal, turning away and returning to his seat.\n\nKamael stood and stared at him, then disdainfully threw the rolled-up parchment onto the table and walked away. He did not glance at the Ben-Elim guard as he stepped from the high tower window. A beat of his wings and he was gone.\n\nHadran looked out of the window, watching Kamael's departure.\n\nKol took the parchment and broke the seal, unrolled and read it. Sneered and tossed it over his shoulder."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Sariel is determined to be a thorn in my flesh,\" he snarled.\n\n\"You have the people's vote,\" Lorina said. \"Most of Drassil is behind you.\"\n\n\"It is the Ben-Elim I must contend with,\" Kol said. \"They have to support my claim if my rule is to last.\"\n\n\"You have over a thousand Ben-Elim who have pledged their allegiance to you,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"Aye. But there are more than three thousand of my brothers in these Banished Lands. I need a majority.\"\n\n\"Who else could rule, if not you?\" Lorina said.\n\nKol pulled a face, which Riv thought meant no one.\n\nHe has always been arrogant, but that is a Ben-Elim trait, not confined to Kol.\n\n\"Sariel is my only real threat. He has governed the south of the Lands of the Faithful for half a hundred years, has fought campaigns there, exterminating the Vin Thalun pirates, stamping on all opposition to the yoke of the Ben-Elim. He has many supporters from that region, both Ben-Elim and White-Wings.\"\n\n\"We have come this far, are so close,\" Lorina said. \"Sariel will not stop us now.\"\n\n\"I hope you are right,\" Kol muttered, tapping his teeth with a thumbnail. He sipped his wine, brooding darkly.\n\n\"I want to go back to Aphra's barracks,\" Riv said into the growing silence.\n\nKol looked at her and frowned. Riv saw a gentle smile touch Aphra's face.\n\n\"I am sick of being hidden away,\" Riv said.\n\nSick of being around you every waking breath, Kol."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I am concerned for your safety,\" Kol said.\n\n\"My safety?\" Riv snorted, glancing at the scar on her shoulder.\n\n\"That was before I knew you were my daughter,\" Kol said.\n\nRiv stared at him.\n\n\"I have much resting upon you, Riven ap Kol,\" Kol said, humour in his eyes.\n\n\"But you would not call me your daughter in public,\" she snapped.\n\nNot that I want you to.\n\n\"Of course not. It's better that your parentage remains nameless. You area symbol of past crimes, a symbol of forgiveness, and of hope for the future. Best to leave it at that.\"\n\nBecause you would not be so popular if everyone knew you were the father who committed the sin.\n\n\"I still want to go back to Aphra's barracks,\" Riv said.\n\n\"Perhaps it would help your cause against Sariel?\" Aphra said.\n\nKol raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"What you said in the hall,\" Aphra said, \"stirred people's blood, won their sympathy, but they were just words. If people saw those words inaction-Riv bridging that gap between Ben-Elim and us... then it would only cement the step you have made.\"\n\n\"Yes, your point is well made,\" Kol said. \"But what if harm were to come to her?\"\n\n\"Guards?\" Lorina said.\n\n\"A few, in the shadows. Not so many that she looks like a prisoner,\" Aphra said.\n\nThey are talking about meas if I am not a person.\n\nRiv ground her teeth.\n\n\"Very well,\" Kol said. \"You may go back to Aphra's barracks and be free to roam Drassil, within reason. Train in the weapons-field, if you will. With guards. I'll set some of my Ben-Elim to watch over you. And Aphra, some White-Wings, please.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Of course,\" Aphra said.\n\nKol looked at Riv's wings, furled behind her. \"You may even train with us Ben-Elim, soon. I'll teach you how better to use those.\" He nodded to Riv's wings.\n\nI know how to use them.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Riv grunted. She rose to leave.\n\n\"One thing,\" Kol said as she walked to the door.\n\n\"What?\" Riv said, looking back.\n\n\"Don't lose your temper.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Drem looked up at the sky again, searching for any sign of the Kadoshim half-breed. She had wheeled above them as the fight with the wyrms had ended, but now she was nowhere to be seen.\n\nAnd that worries me more. I'd rather know where she is. We need to move, and move fast.\n\nCullen had found a stream to wash the wyrm slime and muck from his body, while Drem and Keld checked Hammer and Fen over for wounds.\n\nThe white bear still lay upon its side. Its breathing was steadier, though, but it appeared to be unconscious. Hammer rumbled over to the fallen beast, sniffed a wound and licked it with her rasping tongue. The white bear didn't so much as stir.\n\nWithout thinking, Drem approached the prone bear, carefully, with one hand on his seax.\n\nIts fur was stained pink, a tapestry of long red lacerations and puncture wounds covering its body. Tentatively, Drem reached out and put his hand upon the bear's chest, felt its ribs flex as it breathed. Hammer nudged the bear with her muzzle, pushed into it none too gently, rumbled a sound deep in her belly, not quite a growl. The white bear rocked back a little, then rolled back.\n\nMost of the wounds Drem checked were superficial, but then he found an injury high on the shoulder of its left foreleg that was leaking a lot of blood. He bent down and lifted its paw, grunting with the weight. He looked at the point where its claw had been severed, a hand reaching to his throat and touching the claw tied around his neck. A flash of memory, his da throwing himself upon Drem, the two of them rolling out of the bear's way, Drem lashing outwith his seax and slicing the claw. And then followed by another memory, the bear standing over him, sniffing him as he set it free from its cage of iron bars before the walls of Kergard."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It let me live.\n\nHe looked at Keld, who was standing back, staring at the bear.\n\n\"We need to leave,\" Keld said. \"Cullen,\" he called out.\n\n\"Be with you soon,\" Cullen called back, \"but I can still taste and smell wyrm.\"\n\n\"I've met this bear before,\" Drem said, raising the bear claw around his neck and pointing to the bear's front paw, with its missing claw.\n\nKeld and Cullen shared a look, Keld nodded. \"Just until Cullen is ready,\" the huntsman said, and Drem hurried to his pack, unbuckled it and pulled out a smaller kit bag. He threw a wad of linen bandages to Keld and the two of them set to patching up the white bear as best they could, cleaning and packing the wounds with honey, comfrey and yarrow, and then binding them with strips of linen.\n\nFootsteps behind them and Cullen ran into the clearing. His red hair had grown back about a knuckle's length, and it glistened with icy water.\n\n\"Think my stones have frozen and fallen off in that stream.\" Cullen shivered. He looked at them both, then at the white bear and its bandages. \"Are you both moon-mad?\" he asked them. \"That thing will eat you for its supper.\"\n\n\"Best begone before it wakes up, then,\" Keld said, hefting his pack onto his back.\n\nDrem threw Cullen his pack.\n\nCullen slipped it onto his back. He was standing beside one of the dead wyrms. He looked down at it, his mouth twisting in disgust. Drawing his hand-axe, he crouched and chopped atone of its long fangs, hacking it free. He tossed it to Drem."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Something to add to that bear claw around your neck,\" he said with a grin. He chopped the other fang free and threw it to Keld, then strode to another wyrm and took a fang for himself.\n\n\"Keepsakes.\" Cullen grinned. \"To remind us never, ever to come to the Bonefells again.\"\n\n\"It's not so bad,\" Drem said, feeling protective of this place that had been home to him and his da. As dangerous as it was, it felt like his home, and there was something safe and reassuring about that.\n\nCullen snorted a laugh and just shook his head.\n\nA rumble issued from the white bear, and its legs jerked.\n\nThey all took an involuntary step away from the beast.\n\nThe white bear raised its huge head and looked at them. It took a few great sniffs, let out a growl, though to Drem it seemed more confused than aggressive.\n\nFen padded in front of Keld and bared his fangs at the bear.\n\nThe white bear rumbled another growl at Fen.\n\nNow, that one was aggressive.\n\nThe white bear rolled onto its belly, managed to get its legs beneath it and heave itself upright, swaying, head lowered with the effort. Spittle drooled from its open mouth as it breathed heavily with the exertion.\n\nFen growled again, hackles a ridge on his back.\n\n\"Easy,\" Keld said, resting a palm on the wolven-hound's side.\n\nThe bear took a step towards them, lips curling in a snarl at Fen.\n\n\"Here we go again.\" Cullen sighed and drew his sword."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hammer stepped between them and the white bear. She roared at the bear, making its fur ripple as if in a strong wind, and it froze, regarding her.\n\nDrem's hand dropped to the hilt of his seax and he held his breath, balanced on his toes, waiting for the violence to explode.\n\nThe white bear stepped forwards and licked Hammer's nose.\n\nFen took a step, snapping and snarling, and the white bear's head switched onto him, another deep growl from the bear.\n\nHammer raised a paw and slapped the white bear across the muzzle.\n\nTo Drem it looked more like a reprimand than an attack.\n\nThe white bear took a step back, its head swivelling onto Hammer, a small growl and a curled lip at her, but nothing else.\n\nHammer growled back.\n\nThe white bear took a step forwards and licked Hammer's muzzle again.\n\n\"I think he likes her,\" Cullen whispered, a smile twitching his mouth. \"What should we do?\"\n\n\"Well, as bonny as this all is, we are being hunted by a Kadoshim half-breed, Feral beasts and a giant, so we should probably leave,\" Keld answered.\n\n\"Agreed,\" Cullen said.\n\nFen growled again at the white bear.\n\n\"That's enough of that,\" Keld scolded, and Fen's ears dropped, tail tucking between his legs. \"You're looking after me, I know, but you can be a bit over-protective sometimes, and right now you're going to start a fight, lad.\" He ruffled the wolven-hound's head.\n\nThey backed away, Fen following them. As they reached the edge of the clearing and stepped into the cover of the pine trees, Keld looked back to call Hammer. She was still standing before the white bear, the two of them sniffing and snorting at each other."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Come on, girl,\" Keld called.\n\nHammer looked around at Keld, then back at the white bear. She shook her body, fur rippling as if she'd emerged from water, and then lumbered after them.\n\nThe white bear stood and stared at Hammer's considerable rump as it walked away from him, then gave out a rumbling snort and shambled after her, limping.\n\nKeld raised an eyebrow and looked at Cullen and Drem.\n\nDrem shrugged.\n\nThey turned and walked on, the two bears following behind them.\n\nDrem stepped out from a thinning stand of pine; snow-covered meadows opened up before him.\n\nThe foothills of the Bonefells rose behind them, framed by the looming bulk of mountains, but before Drem and his companions was along, undulating slope that led down to avast plain, broken by clusters of jagged crags, knots of woodland and notched ravines.\n\nDrem knew that Keld and Cullen were glad to be leaving the Bonefells.\n\nBecause it means we are that much closer to Dun Seren, which is good. But the ground is more open, so we will be much easier to find, especially from above.\n\n\"Dun Seren is less than a ten-night that way,\" Cullen said, pointing to the south, with his other hand scratching at the red hair on his head that was growing longer now.\n\n\"Awhile before I have my warrior braid back,\" Cullen muttered ruefully.\n\nDrem looked up at the sky, searching for bat wings, subconsciously put a finger to his throat and counted the beats of his heart.\n\n\"Waiting's not going to make it any easier,\" Keld said and walked out from the cover of trees, choosing a path that hugged boulders and wind-blasted stands of hawthorn."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Some cover, at least.\n\nFen padded alongside the huntsman, both of them seeming fully recovered now from their injuries.\n\nThe Order of the Bright Star breeds them tough.\n\nDrem absently scratched at the scab on his waistline, checked the sky again and then followed, picking his way down the slope. After a short while there was a scraping and creaking of trees and Drem looked back to see Hammer emerge from the pine trees. A few score paces behind her was the white bear, still limping. He had followed Hammer for two days now, keeping his distance, disappearing at night when Drem and the others stopped and made camp, but reappearing each morning to snort and snuffle around Hammer. Hammer did not seem to dislike the attention. After another scolding from Keld, Fen had taken to pretending the white bear was not there.\n\nKeld led them through shadowed paths, though Drem was certain that even if they were hidden from eyes in the sky, Hammer and the white bear were not.\n\nAnother glance upwards and Drem saw a flicker of movement, a dark smudge silhouetted by pale cloud.\n\n\"Ware,\" he called to his companions, and they all melted into the shadows of an overhanging crag. As Drem watched the silhouette above, he realized it was too small for the half-breed Kadoshim.\n\nJust a crow, then.\n\nAs Drem looked at it, the bird banked to the left, flying in a wide-looping arc.\n\nThen Cullen was stepping out from the shadows and waving his hands in the air.\n\nThe bird above them started cawing, flying in a tighter spiralling loop down to them. As it drew closer, the squawks started to resemble words."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Cullen, Cullen, Cullen,\" the crow squawked, and Cullen held his arm out, the crow alighting on his shoulder. It was huge fora crow, far bigger than Rab, its feathers neat and glossy.\n\n\"Ach, but it's good to see you, Flick,\" Cullen said, scratching the bird's chest.\n\n\"Flick happy see Cullen,\" the bird croaked. \"And Keld and Fen.\" Flick regarded Drem with one shiny eye, his head cocked to one side. \"Well met, Drem ben Olin,\" he said, bobbing his head.\n\n\"Well met,\" Drem said, a little taken aback.\n\n\"Flick is the politest bird in Crow Tower,\" Cullen said, grinning.\n\n\"Flick, what news?\" Keld said.\n\n\"Rab told us all. Gulla in north. Sig dead.\" Flick shook his head mournfully. \"Byrne ANGRY,\" he squawked loudly, flapping his wings for emphasis. \"Byrne called the muster, Byrne want to KILL GULLA.\" Flick shrieked. \"All of Order summoned to Dun Seren. Byrne sent lots of huntsmen to find you. Stepor closest.\"\n\nHammer lumbered up behind them.\n\n\"Well met, Hammer,\" Flick croaked. The bear rumbled at the crow. Then Flick jumped into the air with a flap of wings when he saw the white bear appear behind Hammer.\n\n\"Hammer has an admirer,\" Cullen said, with a roll of his eyes.\n\nFlick landed back on Cullen's shoulder.\n\n\"Stepor? Good,\" Keld said. \"How faraway is he?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Two, three days,\" Flick croaked, shrugging his wings. \"Follow Flick.\" With a beat of his wings the crow leaped into the air."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv stepped out of the tower into Drassil's Great Hall. It was almost empty, apart from the ring of guards around the statues of Asroth and Meical. Usually giants held that vigil, but all the giants of Drassil had gone with Ethlinn to Dun Seren, so it was White-Wings that circled the frozen statues now.\n\nRiv felt their gaze upon her as she strode through the hall, her footsteps echoing. She looked at them, a glare at first, then one nodded to her. She hesitated a moment, then nodded back. Walking out into the winter sunlight, she blinked, heard the whisper of wings above her and her hand went instinctively to the hilt of her short-sword.\n\nA Ben-Elim drifted down and alighted beside her, Hadran, the guard from Kol's chamber.\n\n\"I am to guard you,\" he said, his face as unreadable as Bleda's. She felt a pang at the thought of her friend, a deep sense of loneliness cutting through her. She had wanted to go to Bleda, to speak with him, but shame had held her back, the fact that Kol washer father, the man who had slain Bleda's brother and sister. And she had made a deal with Kol.\n\nDoes Bleda hate me? Despise me for the blood that runs in my veins? And would he hate me for the deal I have made? He would feel ashamed that I have turned away from what is right, and he would hate that I have done it for him.\n\nShe burned to go and ask him; not knowing was driving her mad, itching away inside her head like ants on her skin. She had eventually overcome her shame and tried to speak to him, searched him out, but every time, Jin had been there. At his side."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv saw Hadran frown at her and realized she was grinding her teeth.\n\n\"Guard me, then,\" she muttered and strode down the stone steps into the courtyard before the great keep. He lingered, walking a dozen or so steps behind her, then she felt the shifting of air as he took to the sky, until his presence was just a shadow on the flagstones around her.\n\nFinding herself free of Kol's chambers, Riv was abruptly aware that she did not quite know what to do with herself, and her footsteps faltered. She walked on, aware that people were looking at her, or more accurately, at her wings. Instinctively, she tried to furl them tighter, which of course didn't make them disappear, and then when she realized what she was doing she purposely and slowly unfurled them, spreading them wide.\n\nBecause I am not ashamed of who I am.\n\nShe heard some gasps, whispered comments, and looked around. Some eyes looked away, discomfited, but a few stood and met her gaze. A group of children stared unashamedly at her. Riv gave a fast pulse of her wings, making them crack like a whip, and one of the children screamed. Others laughed.\n\nRiv grinned at them and walked on.\n\nShe passed through the wide streets of Drassil, a host of different reactions happening around her. Some hurried out of her way, others stopped and gawped, some that she knew raised a hand in greeting or offered a nod.\n\nThen she heard footsteps running up behind her and she twisted, hand on her hilt, but it was only one of the children who had been staring at her. A red-haired boy, no more than six summers. She knew him-Tam, son of a wool trader. She used to pass his stall on her way home from training in the weapons-field, and Tam would more often than not stick his tongue out and wave a stick carved as a sword at her, and she'd often get on her knees and let him swat at her in mock combat. Sometimes she'd even let him win."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Is that really you, Riv?\" the lad asked her.\n\nShe got down onto her knees. \"Aye, Tam,\" she said. \"It is.\"\n\n\"I like your wings,\" he said, looking at them with wide eyes.\n\n\"I like them, too,\" she said.\n\n\"Can I touch them?\" he asked.\n\n\"Of course you can,\" she said, and smiled.\n\nShe curled awing tip in towards him, and he reached out tentatively, fingertips brushing a feather.\n\n\"It's soft,\" Tam breathed.\n\nWith a pulse of her wings, Riv rose from her knees and hovered a handspan off the ground, just fora few heartbeats. Tam gasped, and there were'ooohhs\" around her. Riv alighted gently on the earth.\n\n\"Walk with me,\" Riv said, holding her handout to the little lad. Without hesitation he did, and together they strolled down the street.\n\nPeople came and spoke to her now, walking along beside her fora while, asking her a hesitant question or two, saying they stood for her in the Great Hall. She told them she was grateful.\n\nAnd then, before she had a chance to realize where her feet had taken her, she stood before the entrance to the weapons-field.\n\n\"Wow,\" Tam said, who was still holding her hand. His eyes were wide.\n\nRiv stood and stared at it awhile: a huge, open expanse within the southern boundary of Drassil's walls. Sounds drifted out to her, the clack, clack, clack of practice blades, the shout of'SHIELD WALL\" followed by a reverberating thud as units of White-Wings drilled their formations, the drum of hooves further away as riders cantered and then galloped at targets, leaving spears shivering in their enemies\" straw bellies. And behind it all the whirring thrum of the archery range."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fora long, timeless moment Riv closed her eyes and just let the sounds and smells wash over her. For as long as Riv had memories, Drassil had been her home, but of all the parts that she associated with that notion of home-her barracks, the feast-hall, her dormitory-this weapons-field was the place that felt most precious to her.\n\nProbably because I have spent more of my time here than anywhere else in all the world.\n\nHer eyes fixed on the portion of the field that was given to archery practice, with its ranges and straw targets. She saw a few score men and women with their bows of yew and ash, people who belonged to the scouting and hunting units, but there were also others there, in woollen deels of grey and blue, heads shaved apart from long, thick warrior braids.\n\nThe Sirak and Cheren. The honour guards of Bleda and Jin.\n\nShe saw Bleda immediately, her sharp, new-found vision picking him out amongst the crowd. He was sitting upon a horse at the end of a range, arms folded, Old Ellac beside him as well as a handful more of his guards, and he was watching Jin as she stared down the range at a target over a hundred paces distant. A recurved bow was held loosely in one of her hands.\n\nThen Jin moved.\n\nIn one fluid motion she reached into the quiver at her belt, grabbed a handful of arrows, three at least, holding them in the hand she used to grip the bow, and then she was sighting, nocking, loosing.\n\nThree arrows were in the air before the first one hit the target, and then with a sound like hailstone drumming on clay tiles they thumped into the target, two in the straw man's chest, one in his head, roughly where Riv imagined his eye would be located."},{"from":"human","value":"Riv's first reaction was a moment of respect for Jin's skill, a warrior's gut reaction at seeing skills so precise, an action that she knew was difficult made to look so easy and effortless."},{"from":"gpt","value":"That moment was rapidly followed by a rush of anger.\n\nThe hot blood-rush flooded her veins, and something distant in her recognized the warning signals, attempting to calm them, remembering Kol's words to her.\n\nDon't lose your temper.\n\nRiv was also a little surprised at the depth of her feeling.\n\nI must really hate her.\n\nHate? Maybe not. Perhaps it is just loathing. Extreme loathing. And a touch of jealousy.\n\nThe distant, sensible side of her whispered a question.\n\nJealous of what?\n\nOf her skill with a bow, of course, the red mist snapped back.\n\nI must get better with a bow, she resolved.\n\nRiv took a step into the field, felt a tug on her hand and she looked down, realized that little Tam was still there. Others were behind her, a crowd thirty or forty strong that had gathered as she'd walked through Drassil's streets. Some were children, but many were adults, intrigued by this strange new being amongst them.\n\n\"It's forbidden,\" Tam said nervously. \"I'm not allowed in the training field yet.\"\n\n\"Haven't you heard?\" Riv said. \"Times are changing,\" and she hoisted him into her arms, setting him on her shoulders, his legs dangling. Then she walked into the weapons-field.\n\nTam didn't complain.\n\nNo one else followed, but Riv noticed that most of them stayed at the gates, just watching her.\n\nRiv walked past the duelling square, where one-to-one combat was practised, from wrestling to weapons work. Racks of wooden weapons edged the square, all manner of types and sizes, because it was not just men and women that trained in the field, but giants as well."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ert, one of Drassil's many sword masters, took his eyes from a pair of duelling White-Wings to watch Rivas she strode by. He was bald and wore his warrior braid in his white beard. He limped from an old wound, but all counted themselves lucky if they had the good fortune to be trained by him. Riv met his gaze, resisted the urge to look away, fearful of what she would see in his eyes. She respected Ert, and it would hurt if he thoughtless of her now.\n\nErt dipped his head to her, a curt movement, like when Riv scored a touch against him when sparring. She felt a grin stretch her mouth wide.\n\nBehind Ert a White-Wing stared at her, revulsion etched on his face.\n\nRiv walked on, past the White-Wings in shield wall training, saw some of Aphra's hundred there, caught a glimpse of bull-necked Vald and the top of Jost's unruly hair. Even when it was cropped short in the White-Wing style, it still managed to stick out in all directions. Fora moment she wished that she was therein the shield wall with them, that all of this had just been a bad dream. She stumbled to a stop, suddenly realizing that she would never stand in the shield wall again. How could she, with wings? Ben-Elim were not built for the wall.\n\nIt was like a punch to the gut.\n\nShe had loved the shield wall, the claustrophobic camaraderie and exhilaration, the feeling of strength, of belonging, of brothers and sisters either side, trusting you with their lives, and knowing that you trusted them.\n\nAll gone now.\n\nHer wings gave an agitated ripple, an extension of how she felt."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But I can fly, now. That is better than any shield wall. Though lonelier.\n\nShe sighed.\n\n\"You all right, Riv?\" Tam asked from above her.\n\nI don't think I'll ever be all right again.\n\n\"Aye,\" Riv grunted. She turned to walk on, almost collided with someone. A White-Wing, young, the feather carved into his leather vambrace indicating he had not long passed his warrior trial and moved from Fledgling to White-Wing. Riv knew him-Sorch, almost as big and muscular as Vald, but where Vald was only an arrogant idiot when he'd drunk too much wine, Sorch was an arrogant idiot all of the time. Riv had never liked him much, even less after she'd seen him lead a dozen of his comrades into giving Bleda a beating.\n\n\"You don't belong here,\" Sorch said. His cheeks were red, fists clenched and knuckles white.\n\nDon't lose your temper.\n\n\"Get out of my way, arsewipe,\" Riv said.\n\nShe could feel the tendrils of her anger creeping through her blood, twisting through her body, making her heartbeat faster, her muscles tense.\n\n\"You're an abomination,\" Sorch said. \"You deserve to die, should be executed.\" Voices behind him added their agreement. Others were gathering in his wake, some of his own hundred, plus older White-Wings, men and women whom Riv didn't recognize. Ten, twelve others joining them.\n\n\"You disgust me,\" Sorch sneered.\n\nBreathe. Calm. Jost is always saying I need a sense of humour.\n\n\"Now you know how I feel every time I see you eat in the feast-hall,\" Riv said. She wasn't lying. Sorch seemed to lack the ability to eat without half the contents of his mouth spilling out and sounding like someone was slurping on offal."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"By the look on Sorch's face, her attempt at humour to defuse the tension hadn't worked, though one of Sorch's companions chuckled.\n\nSorch didn't seem to like that, either.\n\nHe spat in Riv's face.\n\nShe felt the dam on her anger crack, begin to leak.\n\nVery slowly, Riv wiped spittle from her eye. She flicked it away. Then, just as slowly, she reached up and took hold of Tam, lifted him gently from her shoulders and set him on the ground.\n\n\"Move away, Tam,\" she said.\n\nThen she punched Sorch in the face.\n\nRiv had always been strong. A lifetime spent in the weapons-field, living in a barracks with a White-Wing hundred or out on campaign and attending to the myriad duties that entailed had honed her musculature and sharpened her reflexes, but since she had come into her wings, that strength, speed and fitness had seemed to increase immeasurably.\n\nHer punch lifted Sorch from the ground and hurled him back into his comrades, scattering them like chaff.\n\nA moment's shock and silence, like an indrawn breath, as Riv saw Sorch sprawled atop half a dozen others, those still standing behind him dumbfounded. As if in slow motion she saw their expressions change, from shock, to outrage, to action. Fists were clenched, sparring weapons raised as they came at her. Distantly, Riv was aware of shouting, figures moving in her peripheral vision, running, of Tam's eyes wide in something that wasn't fear, more resembling... awe.\n\nA shadow on the ground cast from high above moving, growing larger.\n\nRiv knew that all of them would be too late."},{"from":"human","value":"She bent her legs and leaped at the onrushing crowd, pulsed her wings and gave her leap added speed and power."},{"from":"gpt","value":"She hit them like a battering ram, sent bodies hurtling in all directions, landed with feet spread and a fierce smile on her face. It felt so good to just give in, to allow so much suppressed rage finally to run free.\n\nA White-Wing from her left, a veteran, practice sword-swinging in a diagonal arc for her head. She swayed, felt the air of its passing across her face, grabbed his wrist, twisted, smiled at the crack and scream that followed, cast him to the ground, kicked him in the head as he tried to rise. He didn't try to getup again.\n\nA blow across her back, a pain in her shoulder-blade and the arch of her wing, and she spun around, backhanded a female White-Wing across the jaw, dropped her to the floor, unconscious before she hit the ground.\n\nAnd then all was constant motion, Riv ducking, swaying, punching, kicking, using her wings to give bursts of speed, to turn tighter and faster than was humanly possible, and all who came against her fell away in bloody heaps. Dimly she became aware that she was not the only one with wings in the melee, glimpsed Hadran her guard dragging a White-Wing off her, casting him aside, and behind him other figures came into focus, Vald and Jost, Ert the sword master, all of them locked in combat against other White-Wings, fighting for her, trying to defend her.\n\nThen a crack across her head, exploding like a drum inside her skull, and she was dropping to her knees. She punched a knee, heard a scream, kicked out at an ankle, saw someone fall, but more blows were raining down upon her.\n\nA rumbling thunder, growing rapidly louder, the ground shaking, and suddenly she was being grabbed by the neck of her leather jerkin, heaved up, into the air, weightless, and then she was swinging onto the back of a horse as it rode away and her arms were wrapping around Bleda's waist."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Half a dozen heartbeats and he drew his horse into a canter, then a halt.\n\nBleda twisted in his saddle, his bow in his hand, and drew it, aimed at the first White-Wing that was running after them.\n\nIt was Sorch.\n\nBleda loosed, and his arrow sank deep into the ground at Sorch's feet. He skidded to a halt, blood running from his pulped lips and nose, looked from the arrow to Riv, took another step.\n\n\"I can kill you, if you wish,\" Bleda said calmly, another arrow nocked and drawn in a heartbeat.\n\nSomething in Bleda's voice drew Sorch up where Riv's violence had not.\n\n\"I would like to kill you,\" Bleda said. \"Give me the excuse.\"\n\nSorch took a step back, raised his hands.\n\n\"Shame,\" muttered Riv.\n\n\"You're bleeding,\" Bleda said to her.\n\nShe licked blood from her lip, felt the red mist still coursing through her, but retreating now, not gone, but a lull.\n\n\"Pulling you out of fights is becoming a habit,\" Bleda said to Riv. His horse danced on the spot, excited.\n\n\"I'll try and return the favour one day,\" she said.\n\nRiv looked around, saw her conflict had spread into a brawl hundreds of people strong, some still fighting on. She saw Vald and Jost standing back to back, practice shields and swords still in their fists, a handful of her old White-Wing comrades with them, as well as Ert. Amongst the various warriors of the field involved in the melee, Riv saw others, not warriors at all, and realized with a jolt of shock that they were from the crowd that had gathered about her and followed her through the streets of Drassil."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They have rushed the field to help me.\n\nSome were still fighting. Hadran the Ben-Elim was trading blows with a trio of White-Wings, as well as two Ben-Elim. Even as she watched, she saw Hadran fall.\n\nVoices were raised behind Riv, a glance showing Aphra running into the field, more White-Wings with her, these with real shields and drawn swords. And Ben-Elim in the air behind her-Kol and his guards, other Ben-Elim swooping in from different directions.\n\nAch, Kol will not be happy. All this, she thought, looking at the bodies strewn across the ground, rising, groaning. Because of Sorch.\n\nWith a snap she spread her wings and took to the air, Bleda calling out after her. She rose briefly, then tucked her wings in and dropped into a dive, a flexing of her wings to adjust her angle, and she was speeding along parallel to the ground.\n\nStraight at Sorch.\n\nHe saw her coming, saw the look in her eyes, and then he was turning, breaking into a stumbling run.\n\nFar too slow. Riv caught him in moments, grabbing his leather training vest, her wings beating hard as she dragged him from his feet, sweeping him up and along in her momentum.\n\nSorch screamed.\n\nRiv laughed.\n\nShe flew low, just above the heads of those who had been involved in the melee, Sorch's feet smacking heads, then she dived down again, barrelling a Ben-Elim out of her way and reaching down, grabbing at an arm, her fist closing around a wrist, and then she was veering up, wings straining as she dragged two bodies up into the air above the weapons-field."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sorch continued to scream, rising in pitch. As they climbed higher it became a whimper.\n\nThe other body was Hadran, battered, a cut above his eye leaking blood over his face.\n\nHe was stunned, eyes glazed and fluttering fora few moments, but his senses returned to him quickly enough and he stared at Riv.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" he asked.\n\n\"You watched my back, I'm just watching yours,\" she said.\n\nHadran realized he was in the air and extended his wings, flexed them once or twice.\n\nRiv let go and he flew away, but not far, spiralled around her, a strange look on his face.\n\nRiv gave Sorch her attention.\n\nHe had his eyes squeezed tightly shut, was whimpering and shaking.\n\nThe words Sorch had said to her came back in a rush.\n\nYou're an abomination. You deserve to die.\n\nAnger flooded Riv's mind, red dots dappling her vision. She put a hand around his throat and squeezed. Sorch croaked a scream, his face turning red, then purple. He swatted at Riv, feebly. She was dimly aware of Hadran shouting at her, flying closer.\n\nYou are an abomination. You deserve to die.\n\nShe squeezed harder.\n\nA spasm from Sorch and he shrieked, hard and loud, and jerked his leg. Riv glanced down, saw an arrow protruding from his calf, blood leaking from the wound, raining down upon the field. She blinked, felt the red mist of her rage retreat and looked down to the weapons-field far below her.\n\nBleda was standing in his stirrups, his bow in his hand. Another arrow flew from his bow, whistling past Sorch's head. Instinctively, Riv jerked him away, felt herself coming back to her senses. She released her grip around Sorch's throat and held him by his training vest."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Open your eyes. Look down,\" Riv said, hovering with great, slow beats of her wings.\n\nHe didn't, so Riv shook him, like a cat with a mouse.\n\nHe screamed, Riv was impressed with the strength of his lungs.\n\n\"If you don't open your eyes I'm going to drop you,\" she said.\n\nHe didn't open his eyes.\n\nRiv let goof one arm and let him dangle a little.\n\nMore yelling as his eyes snapped open.\n\n\"P-please,\" he begged. \"Please, please, please.\" Tears streamed from his eyes, snot from his nose.\n\n\"Look down,\" she growled at him.\n\nSlowly, inch by inch, his head shifted and he looked down. He whimpered again, a pitiful sound. Riv had only flown about the equivalent of a hundred or so paces straight up, but it was still high enough to splatter Sorch over a wide area if she dropped him. The ground seemed a very long way away, everyone on the field frozen, staring up at them.\n\n\"Remember this,\" Riv snarled at him. \"Remember that I have your life in my hands, could kill you if I wished.\" She paused. \"Do you realize that?\"\n\nHe opened his mouth but nothing came out.\n\n\"I can't hear you,\" she said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Sorch squeaked.\n\n\"Good.\" Riv nodded. \"Now, you area worm, but you are still one of Elyon's creations, and so have the right to live. Just like I do.\"\n\nShe stared into his eyes.\n\n\"Do you understand what I'm saying to you?\"\n\nHe nodded frantically."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Tell me.\"\n\n\"Th-th-th-that you are not an abomination,\" he stuttered. \"Th-th-th-that you should live, do not deserve to bee-e-executed.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Riv said. She narrowed her eyes. \"But do I believe you? If I take you back to the ground, see you safe down there, will you just do this again, or worse?\"\n\n\"N-n-n-n-n-n-no,\" Sorch said. \"You can trust me, I swear. Live and let l-l-live, that's what I say.\"\n\n\"Because I could still drop you. It would be easier that way. No need to worry about whether you can be trusted, then.\"\n\nRiv glimpsed Ben-Elim swooping towards her, Kol amongst them. She glanced over Sorch's shoulder and saw Hadran. He was close, but just observing, making no attempt to interfere.\n\nThen Riv heard a sound, distant, a horn blowing, faraway, beyond the walls of Drassil.\n\nAn answering horn blast from Drassil's towers.\n\nWhat's that?\n\nRiv beat her wings and rose higher. Sorch let out a yelp and shut his eyes tight again, his arms flailing, reaching out and grabbing Riv. He pulled himself tight against her body. She could feel his trembling.\n\nThe horn calls resounded again and Riv climbed higher, level with Drassil's towering walls, then higher still, until she could seethe sea of green that was Forn Forest, stretching in all directions for endless leagues. Hadran flew close to her.\n\nA column of horses was spilling onto the plain that surrounded Drassil, coming from the east road. Easily two to three hundred, with still more appearing. Riv squinted, the figures not much more than pinpricks, but she glimpsed a banner, stared a few moments longer and made out a white horse on a greenfield."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I recognize that sigil.\n\nKol and a score of Ben-Elim reached her then, but they were not giving Riv any attention, all of them staring out at the riders on the plain. With a beat of his wings and a shouted command Kol sped forwards, towards the riders.\n\nThen Riv was descending, by the shrieks and yelps that escaped Sorch, a little too fast for his liking. When she was about the height of three horses from the ground she extended her wings wide, checking her speed, and touched down with a whisper of feet. Sorch collapsed in a heap on the floor, hugging and kissing the ground, quivering and shaking.\n\nRiv ignored him, ignored the cheers and shouts from the crowd that were all staring at her, instead turning to Bleda, who was still sitting upon his horse where she had left him. Ellac and Bleda's guards were about him now, as was Jin and a few of her honour guard. She was looking at Riv with that superior expression, as always. Riv ignored her.\n\n\"Bleda, there are Sirak riding onto the plain. I think your mother has come to Drassil.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha stepped into a clearing and stopped fora long moment, unsure of what she was looking at. It was a large space, thirty or forty paces wide, edged in boulders, shrubs and trees. Churned snow on the ground was melting to slush, and there had been no fresh snowfalls since Fritha had reached Drem's abandoned camp by the river. The weather was shifting as winter retreated before spring's tentative advance. Much of the ground was stained pink, with scattered pools of almost black blood. But that was not what Fritha's eyes were drawn to.\n\nTwo of her Ferals were standing at her shoulder, sniffing and snapping and snarling, scared and vicious at the same time as they all stared at heaped mounds of dead flesh.\n\nSome of us are at our most dangerous when we are scared. They do not recognize what scent they are smelling, but they don't like it.\n\nFritha had been sceptical about Morn's tale of giant wyrms and two bears, one of them white, fighting alongside Drem and his companions. But these piles of coiled scales suggested that Morn was right.\n\nFritha hefted her spear and pointed it at the closest heap, took a few steps into the clearing.\n\nA shadow skimmed across her, Morn descending in a whirl of wings.\n\n\"Are you sure they are dead?\" Fritha muttered.\n\n\"I saw them slain by the Order and two bears,\" Morn answered.\n\nFritha noticed that Morn was still levelling her spear at the nearest coiled body, though.\n\nThey smell dead tome.\n\nFerals and her warriors emerged from the bushes and trees around the clearing to join Fritha, all of them edging closer with sharp steel glinting, a noosed circle growing tighter."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As Fritha drew closer, details became clearer amidst the coiled heap: a red wound, tattered skin, darkening flesh and the glint of vertebrae where its head should be.\n\nWyrms, Morn was right, Fritha realized, a tremor of awe passing through her. She had heard tales of these fabled beasts, but never dreamed of seeing one. Each coil of the creature's torso was thicker than her waist.\n\nThe wyrm's head was on the ground nearby, as big as a hound. Its skin hung torn and ragged, eye sockets pecked empty. Fritha prodded the severed head with her spear and it rolled over, maggots squirming out of the empty sockets and spilling from its nostrils and mouth. Fritha crouched fora closer look and saw that its two fangs had been hacked from its gums. She wrinkled her nose at the smell.\n\nOne of her Ferals leaned close and took a sniff of the heaped coils that had been the wyrm's body.\n\n\"Eat it, if you wish,\" Fritha said, looking at lengths of gnawed flesh hanging in strips. \"You're not the first to try.\"\n\nThere were two more dead wyrms in the clearing. One lay amidst a pile of its own entrails, whilst the other had been literally torn in two.\n\nThe ground was a trampled mess, sections of it showing the prints of a massive snake's rippling movement. There were half-visible boot-prints in the melting snow, wolven-hound paw-prints and bear-prints, many of them, and of different sizes.\n\nMorn was right about two bears, as well.\n\n\"There were two bears,\" Morn said beside her, as if reading her mind."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Morn had returned to them close to three days ago, bursting with excitement as she'd told Fritha of her sighting, and of the wyrms and white bear. Fritha had been excited at the ground they had gained, but sceptical about wyrms and white bears. She resolved not to doubt Morn's eyesight again.\n\n\"Where did they go?\" Fritha asked.\n\n\"That way,\" Morn said, pointing with her spear. The two of them padded to the clearing's edge, following the prints that led away from the battle. Boot-prints, bear-prints, wolven-prints. They followed them away into a stand of pine trees, stooping.\n\n\"Have they met someone from the Order of the Bright Star?\" Fritha wondered. \"Another giant and their bear?\" She felt a stab of anger and frustration at that thought, to be so close and for Drem to escape her. Another bear and giant would probably be too much for her depleted numbers.\n\n\"I saw no one else,\" Morn said. \"But I was high, did not get too close, as you asked.\" The half-breed's lips curled; Fritha realized it washer attempt at a smile.\n\nSince Morn's return, when Fritha nursed her back from the edge of death and spoke words of power into her, Morn had changed, not softened, exactly, but there was something less aloof and abrasive in Morn's demeanour towards Fritha.\n\nPerhaps the fact that I saved her life has broken through her shell of pride and rage.\n\n\"Good,\" Fritha said. \"I would not lose you, and those nets they have are deadly.\"\n\n\"Aye, curse them.\" Morn spat. She reached a hand to her belt, where the patched net that had almost killed her was neatly folded."},{"from":"human","value":"Behind them, Gunil's bear let out a rumbling growl and crashed into the trees at the edge of the clearing, disappearing."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Gunil gave chase, a handful of Ferals bounding after them.\n\nFritha and Morn shared a look, and then Gunil was shouting, the snap and snarl of Fritha's Ferals, the growling of Claw, and Fritha turned and ran. She heard Gunil's voice, booming through the trees. He was yelling commands.\n\n\"Get back! Hold!\" he was yelling.\n\nFritha ran faster, Morn running and leaping into the air, gliding ahead. She sprinted through the clearing, past the dead wyrms where some of her Ferals were feasting, on through a thicket of hawthorn to catch up with some of her warriors, who were doing the same as her, running towards the sounds echoing about her.\n\nAnd then she saw Gunil and Claw, a handful of Fritha's Red Right Hand around them, Ferals standing in a half-circle, growling like hounds with hackles raised. Gunil had his war-hammer in his fist and was dragging on the reins of his bear, which was rearing and growling, trying to reach something beyond Gunil. The giant heaved on the reins, forcing Claw down, and gave the bear a mighty cuff with the back of his hand.\n\n\"Hold, now,\" Gunil yelled at the bear.\n\n\"What's going on?\" Fritha shouted as she ran up; with a beating of wings Morn touched down to her right.\n\n\"He doesn't like it, wants to kill it,\" Gunil grunted, cuffing his bear again. Claw was more composed now, giving Gunil what Fritha thought was a sulky look.\n\nFritha pushed through her warriors and Ferals, who were ringed around something, spears and all manner of sharp iron pointing."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then she saw what the bear wanted to kill.\n\nIt was a wyrm, long and sinuous, coiled in the shadows of a boulder. Fritha could not guess at its size, probably the length of one of the pines that towered around them, but its body was thick, as thick as the pine's trunk, with pale, pearl-like scales coating its wide girth. It was injured, that was plain to see, with open wounds raking its torso. The creature was having trouble even lifting its head, though it managed to bear its fangs and hiss at Gunil's bear.\n\nMore than injured, it looks close to death.\n\nEven as Fritha watched, its head sank to the ground, the effort too much for it, and it gave out along, rattling hiss.\n\nFritha just stared at the wyrm, lost for long moments in its magnificence; even on the brink of death its power and deadliness were clear. Fritha respected that.\n\n\"Morn, your net,\" Fritha said, holding out a hand.\n\nMorn put a hand protectively on the net at her belt.\n\n\"I have plans for it,\" the half-breed muttered.\n\n\"You'll get it back,\" Fritha said, hand still extended.\n\nMorn unclipped it from her belt and gave it to Fritha, who shook it out, spun it around her head and cast it at the wyrm.\n\nThe net fell over the wyrm's head and neck. It hissed and raised its head, a feeble motion, the weight of the lead balls on the net almost too much for it to lift. Fritha stepped forwards and staked one corner of the net into the ground with her spear, then gestured for another spear. Morn saw what Fritha was doing and staked another corner with her own weapon."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha stepped away from the head and prodded the snake's torso with her toe. It hissed, but nothing more. She kicked it, hard, and its head twitched, more hissing, but it lacked the strength to fight free of the net.\n\nFritha knelt down beside it, running a hand along its scales. It was cool to the touch, the scales smooth. The sense of muscle and malice that emanated from the creature almost took her breath away. She touched one of the wounds, flesh red and raw, then shuffled closer to the wyrm's wide head. She stroked it, ran a finger across its jawline, tracing one long fang. It regarded her with a reptilian eye, a twitch of its mouth, but nothing more.\n\n\"It's as if Drem is leaving me gifts, to makeup for all of the difficulties he is causing me. First the draig egg, and now you.\"\n\nFritha smiled.\n\nShe reached to her belt and drew her knife. She opened her palm, saw the scabbing cut from the hold, when she had communicated with Gulla. Gritting her teeth, she drew her knife across the half-healed wound, fresh blood welling, and she squeezed a fist, let her blood drip into the wyrm's wounds, across its body, finally onto its fangs and into its mouth.\n\n\"Fola agus focail chumhachta,\" Fritha whispered, \"ceangail an fheoil seo, leigheas an cnámh seo.\" She smiled as she did it. \"I will save you, my beauty,\" she whispered, and intoned her spell of power again, and again, until the wyrm shuddered and lay its head down, sleeping."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Gunil, build me a cage,\" she called over her shoulder."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bleda's heart was pounding. He was riding through the wide streets of Drassil, his horse's hooves sparking on the flagstones of the road, dimly aware of Ellac and his guard urging their mounts after him. People were jumping out of his way, and a shadow flitted across the road, a glimpse showing the silhouette of Riv above him.\n\nSo much had happened in the weapons-field, a brawl turning into a riot. Bleda had thought fora few heart-wrenching moments when he saw Riv fall beneath an abundance of foes that she was going to be beaten to death. He hardly remembered galloping across the field, people leaping out of his way as he leaned out of his saddle, grabbing Riv and hauling her onto his horse.\n\nAnd then, when he thought the worst was over and all was returning to calm, Riv had flown down and said those six words that had set him to riding through the streets.\n\nYour mother has come to Drassil.\n\nHe felt excited, scared, thrilled, worried.\n\nAnd then he was bursting into the great courtyard of Drassil, its huge gates and tower rising like a small keep ahead of him. The courtyard itself was large enough to hold a small host, a thousand warriors on horseback could probably fit into it.\n\nBleda touched his reins and gave a quick squeeze with his knees, his mount responding beautifully, slowing to a trot, to a walk and then to a standstill. Ellac and his guards, a dozen men and women, formed up perfectly to either side of him. Tuld, Ruga and Mirim were closest. They seemed to have been permanently at his side since their return to Drassil and had taken great pride in telling Bleda's guard that had remained in the fortress of their Prince's exploits against the Ben-Elim. Bleda had been relieved to discover that his honour guard who had remained in Drassil when he'd fled with Riv had not been harmed, merely detained and watched closely. They had shown unusual joy when he had returned to them, and upon hearing of his actions, seemed to hold Bleda in higher esteem than before."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What did she say to you?\" Ellac asked him.\n\n\"Huh?\" Bleda grunted, then realized Ellac was referring to Riv.\n\n\"My Queen and mother is here.\" Bleda kept his face emotionless. \"She is riding towards Drassil's gates,\" he said, and saw a brief lapse of Ellac's cold-face, a ripple of surprise and pleasure before the control came back.\n\nBleda's other guards heard, and instantly all were checking their deels and weapons, straightening arrows in their belt quivers, sitting taller in their saddles.\n\nThe gates of Drassil were open. Horn blasts rang out and, through the gateway, Bleda glimpsed movement on the plain.\n\nOthers started arriving in the courtyard-Jin and a score of her honour guard. She looked at Bleda with a quizzical expression, but Bleda avoided her gaze.\n\nBleda had felt awkward with Jin since his return to Drassil. He was betrothed to her, knew that their marriage had been arranged to secure the bonds between the Sirak and Cheren Clans and to put their old grievances into the past. And Bleda liked Jin. She had been his closest companion for the last five years, his only friend in the fortress.\n\nUntil Riv.\n\nHe knew that it was his duty towed Jin, that he was honour-bound for the sake of his Clan, and it was not the worst thing he could imagine. She was intelligent, strong and skilled, and not unpleasant to look at. With her sharp features, quick reactions and wit she reminded Bleda of the hawk that was the Cheren sigil.\n\nBut then why is it that every time I close my eyes, the only face I see is Riv's?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bleda searched the courtyard and the skies above, and although there were many Ben-Elim in the skies overhead, he could not see her distinctive wings and silhouette anywhere.\n\nAphra and her White-Wings marched into the courtyard, not her full hundred, but enough to form an imposing shield wall, even if their shields were slung across their backs, with other units of White-Wings hastily gathering behind them. More Ben-Elim arrived, wheeling in the sky above, some flying on out beyond Drassil's walls.\n\nAnd then more horns were blowing and riders were thundering through the gate tunnel and pouring into the courtyard. Bleda's heart soared to see his kin, a wave of mounted men and women in their deels of grey, heads shaved and long warrior braids flowing. Each rider carried short curved swords strapped across their backs, recurved bows in leather cases and quivers of arrows buckled to their saddles, and at their head rode Erdene, Bleda's mother, Queen of the Sirak.\n\nShe rode straight-backed and proud into the courtyard, along surcoat of lamellar armour over a grey deel tunic, a fox-fur cloak slung across her shoulder, and her boots trimmed with ermine. A silver ring was wrapped around her arm, two horse-heads facing each other. She reined in a score of paces from Bleda, a whispered word and her horse was rearing, hooves punching the air.\n\nBleda fought to hold back the grin of joy that threatened to spill allover his face.\n\nHundreds of Sirak slipped into neat lines behind her, the thunder of hooves abruptly silent. Erdene's horse, a magnificent piebald, shook its head, its mane rippling, and whickered."},{"from":"human","value":"Bleda clicked his horse on and walked out into the open space between them."},{"from":"gpt","value":"A double-click of his tongue and pressure from one knee, and his horse stretched one foreleg forwards, bent the other, for all the world seeming as if it were bowing to Erdene.\n\nShe looked at Bleda, then gave him a curt nod for his display of horsemanship, and another for his mark of respect to her.\n\nAnd then there was a maelstrom of wings descending upon them, Ben-Elim falling from the sky. Kol alighted in the space between Bleda and Erdene, bright and gleaming in a shirt and breeches of white wool and polished leather tunic, studded with iron. A few score Ben-Elim stood behind him, forming a line between Bleda and his kin, and many others circled low over the courtyard, the cold sun gleaming off their spear-points.\n\nOther Ben-Elim spiralled in from a different direction, amass of them in the air like a flock of white eagles. Bleda saw Sariel touching down on his right flank. Kol saw him, too, and with a gesture of his hand many of his Ben-Elim landed before Sariel, swelling Kol's ranks and blocking Sariel's approach to Erdene. At the same time Aphra's White-Wings were moving, filling the empty spaces of the courtyard around Sariel's Ben-Elim. There were no angry words, no weapons drawn, but tension filled the area. Sariel was glaring at Kol, then casting his dark look upon the Ben-Elim and White-Wings blocking his way.\n\nBleda could tell he was caught in that moment of indecision, whether to actor hold, and he saw his mother's eyes taking it all in.\n\n\"Welcome to Drassil, Queen Erdene of the Sirak,\" Kol said loudly and formally as he took a step towards Erdene."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bleda saw Sariel say something to his Ben-Elim behind him, then take a step back, folding his arms and staring coldly at Kol and Erdene.\n\n\"An unexpected pleasure,\" Kol said to Erdene. Kol's voice was polite, but Bleda could see a tension in the Ben-Elim, though well hidden, a stiffness across his shoulders, a clenching in his jaw. Being a student of the cold-face, Bleda was a master of analysing all of the tell-tale signs a body could giveaway.\n\nHe did not know that my mother was coming, and he is ready for violence.\n\nThe sound of many footsteps behind him, a glance showing more White-Wings entering the courtyard-Lorina leading over a hundred warriors. They slipped silently into a loose shield wall formation behind Aphra and her group.\n\n\"I bring you what you asked for,\" Erdene said, and with a flick of her reins her horse was sidestepping, the rows of Sirak behind her parting, their mounts moving to the flanks of the courtyard to reveal yet more riders. But these were not warriors, they were children, their heads as yet unshaved. Boys and girls, lots of children, a hundred, perhaps more.\n\n\"I give you your flesh tithe,\" Erdene said.\n\nBleda walked into a large chamber, Ellac and Ruga either side of him, as befitted his rank. Afire-pit in the centre of the room crackled with hungry flames, spreading a welcome warmth through the stone room. It was part of a building large enough to pass fora keep at any other fortress, but here at Drassil it was just one of many buildings built by giants so long ago which still stood empty. Kol had given it to Erdene as quarters for her and her retainers for the duration of her stay in the fortress."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Erdene was seated in a high-backed chair close to the fire, her first-sword Yul behind her, a table at her side with jug and cups.\n\nKol was standing before Erdene, Lorina atone shoulder, Riv at the other. Bleda's step faltered at the sight of her.\n\nRiv looked at Bleda as he approached, her face mottled with bruises and cuts from her fight in the weapons-field.\n\nShe smiled on seeing him.\n\nHe felt something shift in his belly at that, like the fluttering of a moth's wings, and at the same time he was painfully aware of his mother's gaze upon him. With an effort he kept his face emotionless, saw Riv's smile wither and fade.\n\nHe stopped a few paces from his mother and dropped to one knee before her, his head bowed. He heard the scuff of Ellac and Ruga's knees scraping the stone floor behind him.\n\nA silence.\n\n\"Rise,\" his mother grunted, and the three of them stood before her. She looked older, deep lines in her brown-weathered face, a white scar standing stark across her shaved head. Her warrior braid was curled across one shoulder like an iron-grey serpent.\n\nShe studied Bleda with her dark eyes, then stood and held her arm out, offering him the warrior grip.\n\nHe stood as still as stone, frozen with surprise, then reached out and took the offered embrace, felt the corded muscle of her arm through her wool deel. Inside, his heart was soaring.\n\nShe recognizes meas a warrior, no longer a child. He wanted to laugh and dance, to lift his mother up and spin and squeeze her.\n\nInstead he stared at her, his face an emotionless mask."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Collaborate with the author and advance the plot.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\\nAuthor: John Gwynne\\nTitle: A Time of Blood\\nChapter: 22\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He held out a rolled parchment, proffering it to Kol.\\n\\n\\\"What does it say, Kamael?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That you are summoned to the Moot, to answer for your deviation from the Way. It meets two days from now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see.\\\" Kol sighed.\\n\\nHe seems to be doing a lot of that, lately.\\n\\n\\\"Anything else?\\\" Kol asked.\\n\\n\\\"Aye. We will decide on who will become the new Lord Protector,\\\" Kamael said.\\n\\nIna heartbeat Kol was on his feet, face a handspan from Kamael. To his credit, Kamael stood his ground, did not recoil or flinch.\\n\\n\\\"That is already decided,\\\" Kol said. \\\"The people have spoken.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sariel says differently,\\\" Kamael said. \\\"We Ben-Elim have not decided, and we both know that is all that matters.\\\"\\n\\nHe dismisses us like we are worthless insects. Riv realized she still considered herself human, not Ben-Elim, despite the obvious reminder of her mixed heritage that was sprouting from her back.\\n\\n\\\"We shall see,\\\" Kol said.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Kamael agreed. \\\"Will you attend the Moot?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course,\\\" Kol said, and waved his hand in dismissal, turning away and returning to his seat.\\n\\nKamael stood and stared at him, then disdainfully threw the rolled-up parchment onto the table and walked away. He did not glance at the Ben-Elim guard as he stepped from the high tower window. A beat of his wings and he was gone.\\n\\nHadran looked out of the window, watching Kamael's departure.\\n\\nKol took the parchment and broke the seal, unrolled and read it. Sneered and tossed it over his shoulder.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Sariel is determined to be a thorn in my flesh,\\\" he snarled.\\n\\n\\\"You have the people's vote,\\\" Lorina said. \\\"Most of Drassil is behind you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is the Ben-Elim I must contend with,\\\" Kol said. \\\"They have to support my claim if my rule is to last.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have over a thousand Ben-Elim who have pledged their allegiance to you,\\\" Aphra said.\\n\\n\\\"Aye. But there are more than three thousand of my brothers in these Banished Lands. I need a majority.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who else could rule, if not you?\\\" Lorina said.\\n\\nKol pulled a face, which Riv thought meant no one.\\n\\nHe has always been arrogant, but that is a Ben-Elim trait, not confined to Kol.\\n\\n\\\"Sariel is my only real threat. He has governed the south of the Lands of the Faithful for half a hundred years, has fought campaigns there, exterminating the Vin Thalun pirates, stamping on all opposition to the yoke of the Ben-Elim. He has many supporters from that region, both Ben-Elim and White-Wings.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We have come this far, are so close,\\\" Lorina said. \\\"Sariel will not stop us now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hope you are right,\\\" Kol muttered, tapping his teeth with a thumbnail. He sipped his wine, brooding darkly.\\n\\n\\\"I want to go back to Aphra's barracks,\\\" Riv said into the growing silence.\\n\\nKol looked at her and frowned. Riv saw a gentle smile touch Aphra's face.\\n\\n\\\"I am sick of being hidden away,\\\" Riv said.\\n\\nSick of being around you every waking breath, Kol.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I am concerned for your safety,\\\" Kol said.\\n\\n\\\"My safety?\\\" Riv snorted, glancing at the scar on her shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"That was before I knew you were my daughter,\\\" Kol said.\\n\\nRiv stared at him.\\n\\n\\\"I have much resting upon you, Riven ap Kol,\\\" Kol said, humour in his eyes.\\n\\n\\\"But you would not call me your daughter in public,\\\" she snapped.\\n\\nNot that I want you to.\\n\\n\\\"Of course not. It's better that your parentage remains nameless. You area symbol of past crimes, a symbol of forgiveness, and of hope for the future. Best to leave it at that.\\\"\\n\\nBecause you would not be so popular if everyone knew you were the father who committed the sin.\\n\\n\\\"I still want to go back to Aphra's barracks,\\\" Riv said.\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps it would help your cause against Sariel?\\\" Aphra said.\\n\\nKol raised an eyebrow.\\n\\n\\\"What you said in the hall,\\\" Aphra said, \\\"stirred people's blood, won their sympathy, but they were just words. If people saw those words inaction-Riv bridging that gap between Ben-Elim and us... then it would only cement the step you have made.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, your point is well made,\\\" Kol said. \\\"But what if harm were to come to her?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Guards?\\\" Lorina said.\\n\\n\\\"A few, in the shadows. Not so many that she looks like a prisoner,\\\" Aphra said.\\n\\nThey are talking about meas if I am not a person.\\n\\nRiv ground her teeth.\\n\\n\\\"Very well,\\\" Kol said. \\\"You may go back to Aphra's barracks and be free to roam Drassil, within reason. Train in the weapons-field, if you will. With guards. I'll set some of my Ben-Elim to watch over you. And Aphra, some White-Wings, please.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Of course,\\\" Aphra said.\\n\\nKol looked at Riv's wings, furled behind her. \\\"You may even train with us Ben-Elim, soon. I'll teach you how better to use those.\\\" He nodded to Riv's wings.\\n\\nI know how to use them.\\n\\n\\\"My thanks,\\\" Riv grunted. She rose to leave.\\n\\n\\\"One thing,\\\" Kol said as she walked to the door.\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" Riv said, looking back.\\n\\n\\\"Don't lose your temper.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Drem looked up at the sky again, searching for any sign of the Kadoshim half-breed. She had wheeled above them as the fight with the wyrms had ended, but now she was nowhere to be seen.\\n\\nAnd that worries me more. I'd rather know where she is. We need to move, and move fast.\\n\\nCullen had found a stream to wash the wyrm slime and muck from his body, while Drem and Keld checked Hammer and Fen over for wounds.\\n\\nThe white bear still lay upon its side. Its breathing was steadier, though, but it appeared to be unconscious. Hammer rumbled over to the fallen beast, sniffed a wound and licked it with her rasping tongue. The white bear didn't so much as stir.\\n\\nWithout thinking, Drem approached the prone bear, carefully, with one hand on his seax.\\n\\nIts fur was stained pink, a tapestry of long red lacerations and puncture wounds covering its body. Tentatively, Drem reached out and put his hand upon the bear's chest, felt its ribs flex as it breathed. Hammer nudged the bear with her muzzle, pushed into it none too gently, rumbled a sound deep in her belly, not quite a growl. The white bear rocked back a little, then rolled back.\\n\\nMost of the wounds Drem checked were superficial, but then he found an injury high on the shoulder of its left foreleg that was leaking a lot of blood. He bent down and lifted its paw, grunting with the weight. He looked at the point where its claw had been severed, a hand reaching to his throat and touching the claw tied around his neck. A flash of memory, his da throwing himself upon Drem, the two of them rolling out of the bear's way, Drem lashing outwith his seax and slicing the claw. And then followed by another memory, the bear standing over him, sniffing him as he set it free from its cage of iron bars before the walls of Kergard.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It let me live.\\n\\nHe looked at Keld, who was standing back, staring at the bear.\\n\\n\\\"We need to leave,\\\" Keld said. \\\"Cullen,\\\" he called out.\\n\\n\\\"Be with you soon,\\\" Cullen called back, \\\"but I can still taste and smell wyrm.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've met this bear before,\\\" Drem said, raising the bear claw around his neck and pointing to the bear's front paw, with its missing claw.\\n\\nKeld and Cullen shared a look, Keld nodded. \\\"Just until Cullen is ready,\\\" the huntsman said, and Drem hurried to his pack, unbuckled it and pulled out a smaller kit bag. He threw a wad of linen bandages to Keld and the two of them set to patching up the white bear as best they could, cleaning and packing the wounds with honey, comfrey and yarrow, and then binding them with strips of linen.\\n\\nFootsteps behind them and Cullen ran into the clearing. His red hair had grown back about a knuckle's length, and it glistened with icy water.\\n\\n\\\"Think my stones have frozen and fallen off in that stream.\\\" Cullen shivered. He looked at them both, then at the white bear and its bandages. \\\"Are you both moon-mad?\\\" he asked them. \\\"That thing will eat you for its supper.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Best begone before it wakes up, then,\\\" Keld said, hefting his pack onto his back.\\n\\nDrem threw Cullen his pack.\\n\\nCullen slipped it onto his back. He was standing beside one of the dead wyrms. He looked down at it, his mouth twisting in disgust. Drawing his hand-axe, he crouched and chopped atone of its long fangs, hacking it free. He tossed it to Drem.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Something to add to that bear claw around your neck,\\\" he said with a grin. He chopped the other fang free and threw it to Keld, then strode to another wyrm and took a fang for himself.\\n\\n\\\"Keepsakes.\\\" Cullen grinned. \\\"To remind us never, ever to come to the Bonefells again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's not so bad,\\\" Drem said, feeling protective of this place that had been home to him and his da. As dangerous as it was, it felt like his home, and there was something safe and reassuring about that.\\n\\nCullen snorted a laugh and just shook his head.\\n\\nA rumble issued from the white bear, and its legs jerked.\\n\\nThey all took an involuntary step away from the beast.\\n\\nThe white bear raised its huge head and looked at them. It took a few great sniffs, let out a growl, though to Drem it seemed more confused than aggressive.\\n\\nFen padded in front of Keld and bared his fangs at the bear.\\n\\nThe white bear rumbled another growl at Fen.\\n\\nNow, that one was aggressive.\\n\\nThe white bear rolled onto its belly, managed to get its legs beneath it and heave itself upright, swaying, head lowered with the effort. Spittle drooled from its open mouth as it breathed heavily with the exertion.\\n\\nFen growled again, hackles a ridge on his back.\\n\\n\\\"Easy,\\\" Keld said, resting a palm on the wolven-hound's side.\\n\\nThe bear took a step towards them, lips curling in a snarl at Fen.\\n\\n\\\"Here we go again.\\\" Cullen sighed and drew his sword.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hammer stepped between them and the white bear. She roared at the bear, making its fur ripple as if in a strong wind, and it froze, regarding her.\\n\\nDrem's hand dropped to the hilt of his seax and he held his breath, balanced on his toes, waiting for the violence to explode.\\n\\nThe white bear stepped forwards and licked Hammer's nose.\\n\\nFen took a step, snapping and snarling, and the white bear's head switched onto him, another deep growl from the bear.\\n\\nHammer raised a paw and slapped the white bear across the muzzle.\\n\\nTo Drem it looked more like a reprimand than an attack.\\n\\nThe white bear took a step back, its head swivelling onto Hammer, a small growl and a curled lip at her, but nothing else.\\n\\nHammer growled back.\\n\\nThe white bear took a step forwards and licked Hammer's muzzle again.\\n\\n\\\"I think he likes her,\\\" Cullen whispered, a smile twitching his mouth. \\\"What should we do?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, as bonny as this all is, we are being hunted by a Kadoshim half-breed, Feral beasts and a giant, so we should probably leave,\\\" Keld answered.\\n\\n\\\"Agreed,\\\" Cullen said.\\n\\nFen growled again at the white bear.\\n\\n\\\"That's enough of that,\\\" Keld scolded, and Fen's ears dropped, tail tucking between his legs. \\\"You're looking after me, I know, but you can be a bit over-protective sometimes, and right now you're going to start a fight, lad.\\\" He ruffled the wolven-hound's head.\\n\\nThey backed away, Fen following them. As they reached the edge of the clearing and stepped into the cover of the pine trees, Keld looked back to call Hammer. She was still standing before the white bear, the two of them sniffing and snorting at each other.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Come on, girl,\\\" Keld called.\\n\\nHammer looked around at Keld, then back at the white bear. She shook her body, fur rippling as if she'd emerged from water, and then lumbered after them.\\n\\nThe white bear stood and stared at Hammer's considerable rump as it walked away from him, then gave out a rumbling snort and shambled after her, limping.\\n\\nKeld raised an eyebrow and looked at Cullen and Drem.\\n\\nDrem shrugged.\\n\\nThey turned and walked on, the two bears following behind them.\\n\\nDrem stepped out from a thinning stand of pine; snow-covered meadows opened up before him.\\n\\nThe foothills of the Bonefells rose behind them, framed by the looming bulk of mountains, but before Drem and his companions was along, undulating slope that led down to avast plain, broken by clusters of jagged crags, knots of woodland and notched ravines.\\n\\nDrem knew that Keld and Cullen were glad to be leaving the Bonefells.\\n\\nBecause it means we are that much closer to Dun Seren, which is good. But the ground is more open, so we will be much easier to find, especially from above.\\n\\n\\\"Dun Seren is less than a ten-night that way,\\\" Cullen said, pointing to the south, with his other hand scratching at the red hair on his head that was growing longer now.\\n\\n\\\"Awhile before I have my warrior braid back,\\\" Cullen muttered ruefully.\\n\\nDrem looked up at the sky, searching for bat wings, subconsciously put a finger to his throat and counted the beats of his heart.\\n\\n\\\"Waiting's not going to make it any easier,\\\" Keld said and walked out from the cover of trees, choosing a path that hugged boulders and wind-blasted stands of hawthorn.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Some cover, at least.\\n\\nFen padded alongside the huntsman, both of them seeming fully recovered now from their injuries.\\n\\nThe Order of the Bright Star breeds them tough.\\n\\nDrem absently scratched at the scab on his waistline, checked the sky again and then followed, picking his way down the slope. After a short while there was a scraping and creaking of trees and Drem looked back to see Hammer emerge from the pine trees. A few score paces behind her was the white bear, still limping. He had followed Hammer for two days now, keeping his distance, disappearing at night when Drem and the others stopped and made camp, but reappearing each morning to snort and snuffle around Hammer. Hammer did not seem to dislike the attention. After another scolding from Keld, Fen had taken to pretending the white bear was not there.\\n\\nKeld led them through shadowed paths, though Drem was certain that even if they were hidden from eyes in the sky, Hammer and the white bear were not.\\n\\nAnother glance upwards and Drem saw a flicker of movement, a dark smudge silhouetted by pale cloud.\\n\\n\\\"Ware,\\\" he called to his companions, and they all melted into the shadows of an overhanging crag. As Drem watched the silhouette above, he realized it was too small for the half-breed Kadoshim.\\n\\nJust a crow, then.\\n\\nAs Drem looked at it, the bird banked to the left, flying in a wide-looping arc.\\n\\nThen Cullen was stepping out from the shadows and waving his hands in the air.\\n\\nThe bird above them started cawing, flying in a tighter spiralling loop down to them. As it drew closer, the squawks started to resemble words.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Cullen, Cullen, Cullen,\\\" the crow squawked, and Cullen held his arm out, the crow alighting on his shoulder. It was huge fora crow, far bigger than Rab, its feathers neat and glossy.\\n\\n\\\"Ach, but it's good to see you, Flick,\\\" Cullen said, scratching the bird's chest.\\n\\n\\\"Flick happy see Cullen,\\\" the bird croaked. \\\"And Keld and Fen.\\\" Flick regarded Drem with one shiny eye, his head cocked to one side. \\\"Well met, Drem ben Olin,\\\" he said, bobbing his head.\\n\\n\\\"Well met,\\\" Drem said, a little taken aback.\\n\\n\\\"Flick is the politest bird in Crow Tower,\\\" Cullen said, grinning.\\n\\n\\\"Flick, what news?\\\" Keld said.\\n\\n\\\"Rab told us all. Gulla in north. Sig dead.\\\" Flick shook his head mournfully. \\\"Byrne ANGRY,\\\" he squawked loudly, flapping his wings for emphasis. \\\"Byrne called the muster, Byrne want to KILL GULLA.\\\" Flick shrieked. \\\"All of Order summoned to Dun Seren. Byrne sent lots of huntsmen to find you. Stepor closest.\\\"\\n\\nHammer lumbered up behind them.\\n\\n\\\"Well met, Hammer,\\\" Flick croaked. The bear rumbled at the crow. Then Flick jumped into the air with a flap of wings when he saw the white bear appear behind Hammer.\\n\\n\\\"Hammer has an admirer,\\\" Cullen said, with a roll of his eyes.\\n\\nFlick landed back on Cullen's shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Stepor? Good,\\\" Keld said. \\\"How faraway is he?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Two, three days,\\\" Flick croaked, shrugging his wings. \\\"Follow Flick.\\\" With a beat of his wings the crow leaped into the air.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv stepped out of the tower into Drassil's Great Hall. It was almost empty, apart from the ring of guards around the statues of Asroth and Meical. Usually giants held that vigil, but all the giants of Drassil had gone with Ethlinn to Dun Seren, so it was White-Wings that circled the frozen statues now.\\n\\nRiv felt their gaze upon her as she strode through the hall, her footsteps echoing. She looked at them, a glare at first, then one nodded to her. She hesitated a moment, then nodded back. Walking out into the winter sunlight, she blinked, heard the whisper of wings above her and her hand went instinctively to the hilt of her short-sword.\\n\\nA Ben-Elim drifted down and alighted beside her, Hadran, the guard from Kol's chamber.\\n\\n\\\"I am to guard you,\\\" he said, his face as unreadable as Bleda's. She felt a pang at the thought of her friend, a deep sense of loneliness cutting through her. She had wanted to go to Bleda, to speak with him, but shame had held her back, the fact that Kol washer father, the man who had slain Bleda's brother and sister. And she had made a deal with Kol.\\n\\nDoes Bleda hate me? Despise me for the blood that runs in my veins? And would he hate me for the deal I have made? He would feel ashamed that I have turned away from what is right, and he would hate that I have done it for him.\\n\\nShe burned to go and ask him; not knowing was driving her mad, itching away inside her head like ants on her skin. She had eventually overcome her shame and tried to speak to him, searched him out, but every time, Jin had been there. At his side.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv saw Hadran frown at her and realized she was grinding her teeth.\\n\\n\\\"Guard me, then,\\\" she muttered and strode down the stone steps into the courtyard before the great keep. He lingered, walking a dozen or so steps behind her, then she felt the shifting of air as he took to the sky, until his presence was just a shadow on the flagstones around her.\\n\\nFinding herself free of Kol's chambers, Riv was abruptly aware that she did not quite know what to do with herself, and her footsteps faltered. She walked on, aware that people were looking at her, or more accurately, at her wings. Instinctively, she tried to furl them tighter, which of course didn't make them disappear, and then when she realized what she was doing she purposely and slowly unfurled them, spreading them wide.\\n\\nBecause I am not ashamed of who I am.\\n\\nShe heard some gasps, whispered comments, and looked around. Some eyes looked away, discomfited, but a few stood and met her gaze. A group of children stared unashamedly at her. Riv gave a fast pulse of her wings, making them crack like a whip, and one of the children screamed. Others laughed.\\n\\nRiv grinned at them and walked on.\\n\\nShe passed through the wide streets of Drassil, a host of different reactions happening around her. Some hurried out of her way, others stopped and gawped, some that she knew raised a hand in greeting or offered a nod.\\n\\nThen she heard footsteps running up behind her and she twisted, hand on her hilt, but it was only one of the children who had been staring at her. A red-haired boy, no more than six summers. She knew him-Tam, son of a wool trader. She used to pass his stall on her way home from training in the weapons-field, and Tam would more often than not stick his tongue out and wave a stick carved as a sword at her, and she'd often get on her knees and let him swat at her in mock combat. Sometimes she'd even let him win.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Is that really you, Riv?\\\" the lad asked her.\\n\\nShe got down onto her knees. \\\"Aye, Tam,\\\" she said. \\\"It is.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I like your wings,\\\" he said, looking at them with wide eyes.\\n\\n\\\"I like them, too,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"Can I touch them?\\\" he asked.\\n\\n\\\"Of course you can,\\\" she said, and smiled.\\n\\nShe curled awing tip in towards him, and he reached out tentatively, fingertips brushing a feather.\\n\\n\\\"It's soft,\\\" Tam breathed.\\n\\nWith a pulse of her wings, Riv rose from her knees and hovered a handspan off the ground, just fora few heartbeats. Tam gasped, and there were'ooohhs\\\" around her. Riv alighted gently on the earth.\\n\\n\\\"Walk with me,\\\" Riv said, holding her handout to the little lad. Without hesitation he did, and together they strolled down the street.\\n\\nPeople came and spoke to her now, walking along beside her fora while, asking her a hesitant question or two, saying they stood for her in the Great Hall. She told them she was grateful.\\n\\nAnd then, before she had a chance to realize where her feet had taken her, she stood before the entrance to the weapons-field.\\n\\n\\\"Wow,\\\" Tam said, who was still holding her hand. His eyes were wide.\\n\\nRiv stood and stared at it awhile: a huge, open expanse within the southern boundary of Drassil's walls. Sounds drifted out to her, the clack, clack, clack of practice blades, the shout of'SHIELD WALL\\\" followed by a reverberating thud as units of White-Wings drilled their formations, the drum of hooves further away as riders cantered and then galloped at targets, leaving spears shivering in their enemies\\\" straw bellies. And behind it all the whirring thrum of the archery range.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fora long, timeless moment Riv closed her eyes and just let the sounds and smells wash over her. For as long as Riv had memories, Drassil had been her home, but of all the parts that she associated with that notion of home-her barracks, the feast-hall, her dormitory-this weapons-field was the place that felt most precious to her.\\n\\nProbably because I have spent more of my time here than anywhere else in all the world.\\n\\nHer eyes fixed on the portion of the field that was given to archery practice, with its ranges and straw targets. She saw a few score men and women with their bows of yew and ash, people who belonged to the scouting and hunting units, but there were also others there, in woollen deels of grey and blue, heads shaved apart from long, thick warrior braids.\\n\\nThe Sirak and Cheren. The honour guards of Bleda and Jin.\\n\\nShe saw Bleda immediately, her sharp, new-found vision picking him out amongst the crowd. He was sitting upon a horse at the end of a range, arms folded, Old Ellac beside him as well as a handful more of his guards, and he was watching Jin as she stared down the range at a target over a hundred paces distant. A recurved bow was held loosely in one of her hands.\\n\\nThen Jin moved.\\n\\nIn one fluid motion she reached into the quiver at her belt, grabbed a handful of arrows, three at least, holding them in the hand she used to grip the bow, and then she was sighting, nocking, loosing.\\n\\nThree arrows were in the air before the first one hit the target, and then with a sound like hailstone drumming on clay tiles they thumped into the target, two in the straw man's chest, one in his head, roughly where Riv imagined his eye would be located.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Riv's first reaction was a moment of respect for Jin's skill, a warrior's gut reaction at seeing skills so precise, an action that she knew was difficult made to look so easy and effortless.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"That moment was rapidly followed by a rush of anger.\\n\\nThe hot blood-rush flooded her veins, and something distant in her recognized the warning signals, attempting to calm them, remembering Kol's words to her.\\n\\nDon't lose your temper.\\n\\nRiv was also a little surprised at the depth of her feeling.\\n\\nI must really hate her.\\n\\nHate? Maybe not. Perhaps it is just loathing. Extreme loathing. And a touch of jealousy.\\n\\nThe distant, sensible side of her whispered a question.\\n\\nJealous of what?\\n\\nOf her skill with a bow, of course, the red mist snapped back.\\n\\nI must get better with a bow, she resolved.\\n\\nRiv took a step into the field, felt a tug on her hand and she looked down, realized that little Tam was still there. Others were behind her, a crowd thirty or forty strong that had gathered as she'd walked through Drassil's streets. Some were children, but many were adults, intrigued by this strange new being amongst them.\\n\\n\\\"It's forbidden,\\\" Tam said nervously. \\\"I'm not allowed in the training field yet.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Haven't you heard?\\\" Riv said. \\\"Times are changing,\\\" and she hoisted him into her arms, setting him on her shoulders, his legs dangling. Then she walked into the weapons-field.\\n\\nTam didn't complain.\\n\\nNo one else followed, but Riv noticed that most of them stayed at the gates, just watching her.\\n\\nRiv walked past the duelling square, where one-to-one combat was practised, from wrestling to weapons work. Racks of wooden weapons edged the square, all manner of types and sizes, because it was not just men and women that trained in the field, but giants as well.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ert, one of Drassil's many sword masters, took his eyes from a pair of duelling White-Wings to watch Rivas she strode by. He was bald and wore his warrior braid in his white beard. He limped from an old wound, but all counted themselves lucky if they had the good fortune to be trained by him. Riv met his gaze, resisted the urge to look away, fearful of what she would see in his eyes. She respected Ert, and it would hurt if he thoughtless of her now.\\n\\nErt dipped his head to her, a curt movement, like when Riv scored a touch against him when sparring. She felt a grin stretch her mouth wide.\\n\\nBehind Ert a White-Wing stared at her, revulsion etched on his face.\\n\\nRiv walked on, past the White-Wings in shield wall training, saw some of Aphra's hundred there, caught a glimpse of bull-necked Vald and the top of Jost's unruly hair. Even when it was cropped short in the White-Wing style, it still managed to stick out in all directions. Fora moment she wished that she was therein the shield wall with them, that all of this had just been a bad dream. She stumbled to a stop, suddenly realizing that she would never stand in the shield wall again. How could she, with wings? Ben-Elim were not built for the wall.\\n\\nIt was like a punch to the gut.\\n\\nShe had loved the shield wall, the claustrophobic camaraderie and exhilaration, the feeling of strength, of belonging, of brothers and sisters either side, trusting you with their lives, and knowing that you trusted them.\\n\\nAll gone now.\\n\\nHer wings gave an agitated ripple, an extension of how she felt.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But I can fly, now. That is better than any shield wall. Though lonelier.\\n\\nShe sighed.\\n\\n\\\"You all right, Riv?\\\" Tam asked from above her.\\n\\nI don't think I'll ever be all right again.\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Riv grunted. She turned to walk on, almost collided with someone. A White-Wing, young, the feather carved into his leather vambrace indicating he had not long passed his warrior trial and moved from Fledgling to White-Wing. Riv knew him-Sorch, almost as big and muscular as Vald, but where Vald was only an arrogant idiot when he'd drunk too much wine, Sorch was an arrogant idiot all of the time. Riv had never liked him much, even less after she'd seen him lead a dozen of his comrades into giving Bleda a beating.\\n\\n\\\"You don't belong here,\\\" Sorch said. His cheeks were red, fists clenched and knuckles white.\\n\\nDon't lose your temper.\\n\\n\\\"Get out of my way, arsewipe,\\\" Riv said.\\n\\nShe could feel the tendrils of her anger creeping through her blood, twisting through her body, making her heartbeat faster, her muscles tense.\\n\\n\\\"You're an abomination,\\\" Sorch said. \\\"You deserve to die, should be executed.\\\" Voices behind him added their agreement. Others were gathering in his wake, some of his own hundred, plus older White-Wings, men and women whom Riv didn't recognize. Ten, twelve others joining them.\\n\\n\\\"You disgust me,\\\" Sorch sneered.\\n\\nBreathe. Calm. Jost is always saying I need a sense of humour.\\n\\n\\\"Now you know how I feel every time I see you eat in the feast-hall,\\\" Riv said. She wasn't lying. Sorch seemed to lack the ability to eat without half the contents of his mouth spilling out and sounding like someone was slurping on offal.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"By the look on Sorch's face, her attempt at humour to defuse the tension hadn't worked, though one of Sorch's companions chuckled.\\n\\nSorch didn't seem to like that, either.\\n\\nHe spat in Riv's face.\\n\\nShe felt the dam on her anger crack, begin to leak.\\n\\nVery slowly, Riv wiped spittle from her eye. She flicked it away. Then, just as slowly, she reached up and took hold of Tam, lifted him gently from her shoulders and set him on the ground.\\n\\n\\\"Move away, Tam,\\\" she said.\\n\\nThen she punched Sorch in the face.\\n\\nRiv had always been strong. A lifetime spent in the weapons-field, living in a barracks with a White-Wing hundred or out on campaign and attending to the myriad duties that entailed had honed her musculature and sharpened her reflexes, but since she had come into her wings, that strength, speed and fitness had seemed to increase immeasurably.\\n\\nHer punch lifted Sorch from the ground and hurled him back into his comrades, scattering them like chaff.\\n\\nA moment's shock and silence, like an indrawn breath, as Riv saw Sorch sprawled atop half a dozen others, those still standing behind him dumbfounded. As if in slow motion she saw their expressions change, from shock, to outrage, to action. Fists were clenched, sparring weapons raised as they came at her. Distantly, Riv was aware of shouting, figures moving in her peripheral vision, running, of Tam's eyes wide in something that wasn't fear, more resembling... awe.\\n\\nA shadow on the ground cast from high above moving, growing larger.\\n\\nRiv knew that all of them would be too late.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"She bent her legs and leaped at the onrushing crowd, pulsed her wings and gave her leap added speed and power.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She hit them like a battering ram, sent bodies hurtling in all directions, landed with feet spread and a fierce smile on her face. It felt so good to just give in, to allow so much suppressed rage finally to run free.\\n\\nA White-Wing from her left, a veteran, practice sword-swinging in a diagonal arc for her head. She swayed, felt the air of its passing across her face, grabbed his wrist, twisted, smiled at the crack and scream that followed, cast him to the ground, kicked him in the head as he tried to rise. He didn't try to getup again.\\n\\nA blow across her back, a pain in her shoulder-blade and the arch of her wing, and she spun around, backhanded a female White-Wing across the jaw, dropped her to the floor, unconscious before she hit the ground.\\n\\nAnd then all was constant motion, Riv ducking, swaying, punching, kicking, using her wings to give bursts of speed, to turn tighter and faster than was humanly possible, and all who came against her fell away in bloody heaps. Dimly she became aware that she was not the only one with wings in the melee, glimpsed Hadran her guard dragging a White-Wing off her, casting him aside, and behind him other figures came into focus, Vald and Jost, Ert the sword master, all of them locked in combat against other White-Wings, fighting for her, trying to defend her.\\n\\nThen a crack across her head, exploding like a drum inside her skull, and she was dropping to her knees. She punched a knee, heard a scream, kicked out at an ankle, saw someone fall, but more blows were raining down upon her.\\n\\nA rumbling thunder, growing rapidly louder, the ground shaking, and suddenly she was being grabbed by the neck of her leather jerkin, heaved up, into the air, weightless, and then she was swinging onto the back of a horse as it rode away and her arms were wrapping around Bleda's waist.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Half a dozen heartbeats and he drew his horse into a canter, then a halt.\\n\\nBleda twisted in his saddle, his bow in his hand, and drew it, aimed at the first White-Wing that was running after them.\\n\\nIt was Sorch.\\n\\nBleda loosed, and his arrow sank deep into the ground at Sorch's feet. He skidded to a halt, blood running from his pulped lips and nose, looked from the arrow to Riv, took another step.\\n\\n\\\"I can kill you, if you wish,\\\" Bleda said calmly, another arrow nocked and drawn in a heartbeat.\\n\\nSomething in Bleda's voice drew Sorch up where Riv's violence had not.\\n\\n\\\"I would like to kill you,\\\" Bleda said. \\\"Give me the excuse.\\\"\\n\\nSorch took a step back, raised his hands.\\n\\n\\\"Shame,\\\" muttered Riv.\\n\\n\\\"You're bleeding,\\\" Bleda said to her.\\n\\nShe licked blood from her lip, felt the red mist still coursing through her, but retreating now, not gone, but a lull.\\n\\n\\\"Pulling you out of fights is becoming a habit,\\\" Bleda said to Riv. His horse danced on the spot, excited.\\n\\n\\\"I'll try and return the favour one day,\\\" she said.\\n\\nRiv looked around, saw her conflict had spread into a brawl hundreds of people strong, some still fighting on. She saw Vald and Jost standing back to back, practice shields and swords still in their fists, a handful of her old White-Wing comrades with them, as well as Ert. Amongst the various warriors of the field involved in the melee, Riv saw others, not warriors at all, and realized with a jolt of shock that they were from the crowd that had gathered about her and followed her through the streets of Drassil.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They have rushed the field to help me.\\n\\nSome were still fighting. Hadran the Ben-Elim was trading blows with a trio of White-Wings, as well as two Ben-Elim. Even as she watched, she saw Hadran fall.\\n\\nVoices were raised behind Riv, a glance showing Aphra running into the field, more White-Wings with her, these with real shields and drawn swords. And Ben-Elim in the air behind her-Kol and his guards, other Ben-Elim swooping in from different directions.\\n\\nAch, Kol will not be happy. All this, she thought, looking at the bodies strewn across the ground, rising, groaning. Because of Sorch.\\n\\nWith a snap she spread her wings and took to the air, Bleda calling out after her. She rose briefly, then tucked her wings in and dropped into a dive, a flexing of her wings to adjust her angle, and she was speeding along parallel to the ground.\\n\\nStraight at Sorch.\\n\\nHe saw her coming, saw the look in her eyes, and then he was turning, breaking into a stumbling run.\\n\\nFar too slow. Riv caught him in moments, grabbing his leather training vest, her wings beating hard as she dragged him from his feet, sweeping him up and along in her momentum.\\n\\nSorch screamed.\\n\\nRiv laughed.\\n\\nShe flew low, just above the heads of those who had been involved in the melee, Sorch's feet smacking heads, then she dived down again, barrelling a Ben-Elim out of her way and reaching down, grabbing at an arm, her fist closing around a wrist, and then she was veering up, wings straining as she dragged two bodies up into the air above the weapons-field.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sorch continued to scream, rising in pitch. As they climbed higher it became a whimper.\\n\\nThe other body was Hadran, battered, a cut above his eye leaking blood over his face.\\n\\nHe was stunned, eyes glazed and fluttering fora few moments, but his senses returned to him quickly enough and he stared at Riv.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing?\\\" he asked.\\n\\n\\\"You watched my back, I'm just watching yours,\\\" she said.\\n\\nHadran realized he was in the air and extended his wings, flexed them once or twice.\\n\\nRiv let go and he flew away, but not far, spiralled around her, a strange look on his face.\\n\\nRiv gave Sorch her attention.\\n\\nHe had his eyes squeezed tightly shut, was whimpering and shaking.\\n\\nThe words Sorch had said to her came back in a rush.\\n\\nYou're an abomination. You deserve to die.\\n\\nAnger flooded Riv's mind, red dots dappling her vision. She put a hand around his throat and squeezed. Sorch croaked a scream, his face turning red, then purple. He swatted at Riv, feebly. She was dimly aware of Hadran shouting at her, flying closer.\\n\\nYou are an abomination. You deserve to die.\\n\\nShe squeezed harder.\\n\\nA spasm from Sorch and he shrieked, hard and loud, and jerked his leg. Riv glanced down, saw an arrow protruding from his calf, blood leaking from the wound, raining down upon the field. She blinked, felt the red mist of her rage retreat and looked down to the weapons-field far below her.\\n\\nBleda was standing in his stirrups, his bow in his hand. Another arrow flew from his bow, whistling past Sorch's head. Instinctively, Riv jerked him away, felt herself coming back to her senses. She released her grip around Sorch's throat and held him by his training vest.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Open your eyes. Look down,\\\" Riv said, hovering with great, slow beats of her wings.\\n\\nHe didn't, so Riv shook him, like a cat with a mouse.\\n\\nHe screamed, Riv was impressed with the strength of his lungs.\\n\\n\\\"If you don't open your eyes I'm going to drop you,\\\" she said.\\n\\nHe didn't open his eyes.\\n\\nRiv let goof one arm and let him dangle a little.\\n\\nMore yelling as his eyes snapped open.\\n\\n\\\"P-please,\\\" he begged. \\\"Please, please, please.\\\" Tears streamed from his eyes, snot from his nose.\\n\\n\\\"Look down,\\\" she growled at him.\\n\\nSlowly, inch by inch, his head shifted and he looked down. He whimpered again, a pitiful sound. Riv had only flown about the equivalent of a hundred or so paces straight up, but it was still high enough to splatter Sorch over a wide area if she dropped him. The ground seemed a very long way away, everyone on the field frozen, staring up at them.\\n\\n\\\"Remember this,\\\" Riv snarled at him. \\\"Remember that I have your life in my hands, could kill you if I wished.\\\" She paused. \\\"Do you realize that?\\\"\\n\\nHe opened his mouth but nothing came out.\\n\\n\\\"I can't hear you,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Sorch squeaked.\\n\\n\\\"Good.\\\" Riv nodded. \\\"Now, you area worm, but you are still one of Elyon's creations, and so have the right to live. Just like I do.\\\"\\n\\nShe stared into his eyes.\\n\\n\\\"Do you understand what I'm saying to you?\\\"\\n\\nHe nodded frantically.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Tell me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Th-th-th-that you are not an abomination,\\\" he stuttered. \\\"Th-th-th-that you should live, do not deserve to bee-e-executed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's right,\\\" Riv said. She narrowed her eyes. \\\"But do I believe you? If I take you back to the ground, see you safe down there, will you just do this again, or worse?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"N-n-n-n-n-n-no,\\\" Sorch said. \\\"You can trust me, I swear. Live and let l-l-live, that's what I say.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because I could still drop you. It would be easier that way. No need to worry about whether you can be trusted, then.\\\"\\n\\nRiv glimpsed Ben-Elim swooping towards her, Kol amongst them. She glanced over Sorch's shoulder and saw Hadran. He was close, but just observing, making no attempt to interfere.\\n\\nThen Riv heard a sound, distant, a horn blowing, faraway, beyond the walls of Drassil.\\n\\nAn answering horn blast from Drassil's towers.\\n\\nWhat's that?\\n\\nRiv beat her wings and rose higher. Sorch let out a yelp and shut his eyes tight again, his arms flailing, reaching out and grabbing Riv. He pulled himself tight against her body. She could feel his trembling.\\n\\nThe horn calls resounded again and Riv climbed higher, level with Drassil's towering walls, then higher still, until she could seethe sea of green that was Forn Forest, stretching in all directions for endless leagues. Hadran flew close to her.\\n\\nA column of horses was spilling onto the plain that surrounded Drassil, coming from the east road. Easily two to three hundred, with still more appearing. Riv squinted, the figures not much more than pinpricks, but she glimpsed a banner, stared a few moments longer and made out a white horse on a greenfield.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I recognize that sigil.\\n\\nKol and a score of Ben-Elim reached her then, but they were not giving Riv any attention, all of them staring out at the riders on the plain. With a beat of his wings and a shouted command Kol sped forwards, towards the riders.\\n\\nThen Riv was descending, by the shrieks and yelps that escaped Sorch, a little too fast for his liking. When she was about the height of three horses from the ground she extended her wings wide, checking her speed, and touched down with a whisper of feet. Sorch collapsed in a heap on the floor, hugging and kissing the ground, quivering and shaking.\\n\\nRiv ignored him, ignored the cheers and shouts from the crowd that were all staring at her, instead turning to Bleda, who was still sitting upon his horse where she had left him. Ellac and Bleda's guards were about him now, as was Jin and a few of her honour guard. She was looking at Riv with that superior expression, as always. Riv ignored her.\\n\\n\\\"Bleda, there are Sirak riding onto the plain. I think your mother has come to Drassil.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha stepped into a clearing and stopped fora long moment, unsure of what she was looking at. It was a large space, thirty or forty paces wide, edged in boulders, shrubs and trees. Churned snow on the ground was melting to slush, and there had been no fresh snowfalls since Fritha had reached Drem's abandoned camp by the river. The weather was shifting as winter retreated before spring's tentative advance. Much of the ground was stained pink, with scattered pools of almost black blood. But that was not what Fritha's eyes were drawn to.\\n\\nTwo of her Ferals were standing at her shoulder, sniffing and snapping and snarling, scared and vicious at the same time as they all stared at heaped mounds of dead flesh.\\n\\nSome of us are at our most dangerous when we are scared. They do not recognize what scent they are smelling, but they don't like it.\\n\\nFritha had been sceptical about Morn's tale of giant wyrms and two bears, one of them white, fighting alongside Drem and his companions. But these piles of coiled scales suggested that Morn was right.\\n\\nFritha hefted her spear and pointed it at the closest heap, took a few steps into the clearing.\\n\\nA shadow skimmed across her, Morn descending in a whirl of wings.\\n\\n\\\"Are you sure they are dead?\\\" Fritha muttered.\\n\\n\\\"I saw them slain by the Order and two bears,\\\" Morn answered.\\n\\nFritha noticed that Morn was still levelling her spear at the nearest coiled body, though.\\n\\nThey smell dead tome.\\n\\nFerals and her warriors emerged from the bushes and trees around the clearing to join Fritha, all of them edging closer with sharp steel glinting, a noosed circle growing tighter.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As Fritha drew closer, details became clearer amidst the coiled heap: a red wound, tattered skin, darkening flesh and the glint of vertebrae where its head should be.\\n\\nWyrms, Morn was right, Fritha realized, a tremor of awe passing through her. She had heard tales of these fabled beasts, but never dreamed of seeing one. Each coil of the creature's torso was thicker than her waist.\\n\\nThe wyrm's head was on the ground nearby, as big as a hound. Its skin hung torn and ragged, eye sockets pecked empty. Fritha prodded the severed head with her spear and it rolled over, maggots squirming out of the empty sockets and spilling from its nostrils and mouth. Fritha crouched fora closer look and saw that its two fangs had been hacked from its gums. She wrinkled her nose at the smell.\\n\\nOne of her Ferals leaned close and took a sniff of the heaped coils that had been the wyrm's body.\\n\\n\\\"Eat it, if you wish,\\\" Fritha said, looking at lengths of gnawed flesh hanging in strips. \\\"You're not the first to try.\\\"\\n\\nThere were two more dead wyrms in the clearing. One lay amidst a pile of its own entrails, whilst the other had been literally torn in two.\\n\\nThe ground was a trampled mess, sections of it showing the prints of a massive snake's rippling movement. There were half-visible boot-prints in the melting snow, wolven-hound paw-prints and bear-prints, many of them, and of different sizes.\\n\\nMorn was right about two bears, as well.\\n\\n\\\"There were two bears,\\\" Morn said beside her, as if reading her mind.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Morn had returned to them close to three days ago, bursting with excitement as she'd told Fritha of her sighting, and of the wyrms and white bear. Fritha had been excited at the ground they had gained, but sceptical about wyrms and white bears. She resolved not to doubt Morn's eyesight again.\\n\\n\\\"Where did they go?\\\" Fritha asked.\\n\\n\\\"That way,\\\" Morn said, pointing with her spear. The two of them padded to the clearing's edge, following the prints that led away from the battle. Boot-prints, bear-prints, wolven-prints. They followed them away into a stand of pine trees, stooping.\\n\\n\\\"Have they met someone from the Order of the Bright Star?\\\" Fritha wondered. \\\"Another giant and their bear?\\\" She felt a stab of anger and frustration at that thought, to be so close and for Drem to escape her. Another bear and giant would probably be too much for her depleted numbers.\\n\\n\\\"I saw no one else,\\\" Morn said. \\\"But I was high, did not get too close, as you asked.\\\" The half-breed's lips curled; Fritha realized it washer attempt at a smile.\\n\\nSince Morn's return, when Fritha nursed her back from the edge of death and spoke words of power into her, Morn had changed, not softened, exactly, but there was something less aloof and abrasive in Morn's demeanour towards Fritha.\\n\\nPerhaps the fact that I saved her life has broken through her shell of pride and rage.\\n\\n\\\"Good,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"I would not lose you, and those nets they have are deadly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye, curse them.\\\" Morn spat. She reached a hand to her belt, where the patched net that had almost killed her was neatly folded.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Behind them, Gunil's bear let out a rumbling growl and crashed into the trees at the edge of the clearing, disappearing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Gunil gave chase, a handful of Ferals bounding after them.\\n\\nFritha and Morn shared a look, and then Gunil was shouting, the snap and snarl of Fritha's Ferals, the growling of Claw, and Fritha turned and ran. She heard Gunil's voice, booming through the trees. He was yelling commands.\\n\\n\\\"Get back! Hold!\\\" he was yelling.\\n\\nFritha ran faster, Morn running and leaping into the air, gliding ahead. She sprinted through the clearing, past the dead wyrms where some of her Ferals were feasting, on through a thicket of hawthorn to catch up with some of her warriors, who were doing the same as her, running towards the sounds echoing about her.\\n\\nAnd then she saw Gunil and Claw, a handful of Fritha's Red Right Hand around them, Ferals standing in a half-circle, growling like hounds with hackles raised. Gunil had his war-hammer in his fist and was dragging on the reins of his bear, which was rearing and growling, trying to reach something beyond Gunil. The giant heaved on the reins, forcing Claw down, and gave the bear a mighty cuff with the back of his hand.\\n\\n\\\"Hold, now,\\\" Gunil yelled at the bear.\\n\\n\\\"What's going on?\\\" Fritha shouted as she ran up; with a beating of wings Morn touched down to her right.\\n\\n\\\"He doesn't like it, wants to kill it,\\\" Gunil grunted, cuffing his bear again. Claw was more composed now, giving Gunil what Fritha thought was a sulky look.\\n\\nFritha pushed through her warriors and Ferals, who were ringed around something, spears and all manner of sharp iron pointing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then she saw what the bear wanted to kill.\\n\\nIt was a wyrm, long and sinuous, coiled in the shadows of a boulder. Fritha could not guess at its size, probably the length of one of the pines that towered around them, but its body was thick, as thick as the pine's trunk, with pale, pearl-like scales coating its wide girth. It was injured, that was plain to see, with open wounds raking its torso. The creature was having trouble even lifting its head, though it managed to bear its fangs and hiss at Gunil's bear.\\n\\nMore than injured, it looks close to death.\\n\\nEven as Fritha watched, its head sank to the ground, the effort too much for it, and it gave out along, rattling hiss.\\n\\nFritha just stared at the wyrm, lost for long moments in its magnificence; even on the brink of death its power and deadliness were clear. Fritha respected that.\\n\\n\\\"Morn, your net,\\\" Fritha said, holding out a hand.\\n\\nMorn put a hand protectively on the net at her belt.\\n\\n\\\"I have plans for it,\\\" the half-breed muttered.\\n\\n\\\"You'll get it back,\\\" Fritha said, hand still extended.\\n\\nMorn unclipped it from her belt and gave it to Fritha, who shook it out, spun it around her head and cast it at the wyrm.\\n\\nThe net fell over the wyrm's head and neck. It hissed and raised its head, a feeble motion, the weight of the lead balls on the net almost too much for it to lift. Fritha stepped forwards and staked one corner of the net into the ground with her spear, then gestured for another spear. Morn saw what Fritha was doing and staked another corner with her own weapon.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha stepped away from the head and prodded the snake's torso with her toe. It hissed, but nothing more. She kicked it, hard, and its head twitched, more hissing, but it lacked the strength to fight free of the net.\\n\\nFritha knelt down beside it, running a hand along its scales. It was cool to the touch, the scales smooth. The sense of muscle and malice that emanated from the creature almost took her breath away. She touched one of the wounds, flesh red and raw, then shuffled closer to the wyrm's wide head. She stroked it, ran a finger across its jawline, tracing one long fang. It regarded her with a reptilian eye, a twitch of its mouth, but nothing more.\\n\\n\\\"It's as if Drem is leaving me gifts, to makeup for all of the difficulties he is causing me. First the draig egg, and now you.\\\"\\n\\nFritha smiled.\\n\\nShe reached to her belt and drew her knife. She opened her palm, saw the scabbing cut from the hold, when she had communicated with Gulla. Gritting her teeth, she drew her knife across the half-healed wound, fresh blood welling, and she squeezed a fist, let her blood drip into the wyrm's wounds, across its body, finally onto its fangs and into its mouth.\\n\\n\\\"Fola agus focail chumhachta,\\\" Fritha whispered, \\\"ceangail an fheoil seo, leigheas an cnámh seo.\\\" She smiled as she did it. \\\"I will save you, my beauty,\\\" she whispered, and intoned her spell of power again, and again, until the wyrm shuddered and lay its head down, sleeping.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Gunil, build me a cage,\\\" she called over her shoulder.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bleda's heart was pounding. He was riding through the wide streets of Drassil, his horse's hooves sparking on the flagstones of the road, dimly aware of Ellac and his guard urging their mounts after him. People were jumping out of his way, and a shadow flitted across the road, a glimpse showing the silhouette of Riv above him.\\n\\nSo much had happened in the weapons-field, a brawl turning into a riot. Bleda had thought fora few heart-wrenching moments when he saw Riv fall beneath an abundance of foes that she was going to be beaten to death. He hardly remembered galloping across the field, people leaping out of his way as he leaned out of his saddle, grabbing Riv and hauling her onto his horse.\\n\\nAnd then, when he thought the worst was over and all was returning to calm, Riv had flown down and said those six words that had set him to riding through the streets.\\n\\nYour mother has come to Drassil.\\n\\nHe felt excited, scared, thrilled, worried.\\n\\nAnd then he was bursting into the great courtyard of Drassil, its huge gates and tower rising like a small keep ahead of him. The courtyard itself was large enough to hold a small host, a thousand warriors on horseback could probably fit into it.\\n\\nBleda touched his reins and gave a quick squeeze with his knees, his mount responding beautifully, slowing to a trot, to a walk and then to a standstill. Ellac and his guards, a dozen men and women, formed up perfectly to either side of him. Tuld, Ruga and Mirim were closest. They seemed to have been permanently at his side since their return to Drassil and had taken great pride in telling Bleda's guard that had remained in the fortress of their Prince's exploits against the Ben-Elim. Bleda had been relieved to discover that his honour guard who had remained in Drassil when he'd fled with Riv had not been harmed, merely detained and watched closely. They had shown unusual joy when he had returned to them, and upon hearing of his actions, seemed to hold Bleda in higher esteem than before.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What did she say to you?\\\" Ellac asked him.\\n\\n\\\"Huh?\\\" Bleda grunted, then realized Ellac was referring to Riv.\\n\\n\\\"My Queen and mother is here.\\\" Bleda kept his face emotionless. \\\"She is riding towards Drassil's gates,\\\" he said, and saw a brief lapse of Ellac's cold-face, a ripple of surprise and pleasure before the control came back.\\n\\nBleda's other guards heard, and instantly all were checking their deels and weapons, straightening arrows in their belt quivers, sitting taller in their saddles.\\n\\nThe gates of Drassil were open. Horn blasts rang out and, through the gateway, Bleda glimpsed movement on the plain.\\n\\nOthers started arriving in the courtyard-Jin and a score of her honour guard. She looked at Bleda with a quizzical expression, but Bleda avoided her gaze.\\n\\nBleda had felt awkward with Jin since his return to Drassil. He was betrothed to her, knew that their marriage had been arranged to secure the bonds between the Sirak and Cheren Clans and to put their old grievances into the past. And Bleda liked Jin. She had been his closest companion for the last five years, his only friend in the fortress.\\n\\nUntil Riv.\\n\\nHe knew that it was his duty towed Jin, that he was honour-bound for the sake of his Clan, and it was not the worst thing he could imagine. She was intelligent, strong and skilled, and not unpleasant to look at. With her sharp features, quick reactions and wit she reminded Bleda of the hawk that was the Cheren sigil.\\n\\nBut then why is it that every time I close my eyes, the only face I see is Riv's?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bleda searched the courtyard and the skies above, and although there were many Ben-Elim in the skies overhead, he could not see her distinctive wings and silhouette anywhere.\\n\\nAphra and her White-Wings marched into the courtyard, not her full hundred, but enough to form an imposing shield wall, even if their shields were slung across their backs, with other units of White-Wings hastily gathering behind them. More Ben-Elim arrived, wheeling in the sky above, some flying on out beyond Drassil's walls.\\n\\nAnd then more horns were blowing and riders were thundering through the gate tunnel and pouring into the courtyard. Bleda's heart soared to see his kin, a wave of mounted men and women in their deels of grey, heads shaved and long warrior braids flowing. Each rider carried short curved swords strapped across their backs, recurved bows in leather cases and quivers of arrows buckled to their saddles, and at their head rode Erdene, Bleda's mother, Queen of the Sirak.\\n\\nShe rode straight-backed and proud into the courtyard, along surcoat of lamellar armour over a grey deel tunic, a fox-fur cloak slung across her shoulder, and her boots trimmed with ermine. A silver ring was wrapped around her arm, two horse-heads facing each other. She reined in a score of paces from Bleda, a whispered word and her horse was rearing, hooves punching the air.\\n\\nBleda fought to hold back the grin of joy that threatened to spill allover his face.\\n\\nHundreds of Sirak slipped into neat lines behind her, the thunder of hooves abruptly silent. Erdene's horse, a magnificent piebald, shook its head, its mane rippling, and whickered.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Bleda clicked his horse on and walked out into the open space between them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A double-click of his tongue and pressure from one knee, and his horse stretched one foreleg forwards, bent the other, for all the world seeming as if it were bowing to Erdene.\\n\\nShe looked at Bleda, then gave him a curt nod for his display of horsemanship, and another for his mark of respect to her.\\n\\nAnd then there was a maelstrom of wings descending upon them, Ben-Elim falling from the sky. Kol alighted in the space between Bleda and Erdene, bright and gleaming in a shirt and breeches of white wool and polished leather tunic, studded with iron. A few score Ben-Elim stood behind him, forming a line between Bleda and his kin, and many others circled low over the courtyard, the cold sun gleaming off their spear-points.\\n\\nOther Ben-Elim spiralled in from a different direction, amass of them in the air like a flock of white eagles. Bleda saw Sariel touching down on his right flank. Kol saw him, too, and with a gesture of his hand many of his Ben-Elim landed before Sariel, swelling Kol's ranks and blocking Sariel's approach to Erdene. At the same time Aphra's White-Wings were moving, filling the empty spaces of the courtyard around Sariel's Ben-Elim. There were no angry words, no weapons drawn, but tension filled the area. Sariel was glaring at Kol, then casting his dark look upon the Ben-Elim and White-Wings blocking his way.\\n\\nBleda could tell he was caught in that moment of indecision, whether to actor hold, and he saw his mother's eyes taking it all in.\\n\\n\\\"Welcome to Drassil, Queen Erdene of the Sirak,\\\" Kol said loudly and formally as he took a step towards Erdene.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bleda saw Sariel say something to his Ben-Elim behind him, then take a step back, folding his arms and staring coldly at Kol and Erdene.\\n\\n\\\"An unexpected pleasure,\\\" Kol said to Erdene. Kol's voice was polite, but Bleda could see a tension in the Ben-Elim, though well hidden, a stiffness across his shoulders, a clenching in his jaw. Being a student of the cold-face, Bleda was a master of analysing all of the tell-tale signs a body could giveaway.\\n\\nHe did not know that my mother was coming, and he is ready for violence.\\n\\nThe sound of many footsteps behind him, a glance showing more White-Wings entering the courtyard-Lorina leading over a hundred warriors. They slipped silently into a loose shield wall formation behind Aphra and her group.\\n\\n\\\"I bring you what you asked for,\\\" Erdene said, and with a flick of her reins her horse was sidestepping, the rows of Sirak behind her parting, their mounts moving to the flanks of the courtyard to reveal yet more riders. But these were not warriors, they were children, their heads as yet unshaved. Boys and girls, lots of children, a hundred, perhaps more.\\n\\n\\\"I give you your flesh tithe,\\\" Erdene said.\\n\\nBleda walked into a large chamber, Ellac and Ruga either side of him, as befitted his rank. Afire-pit in the centre of the room crackled with hungry flames, spreading a welcome warmth through the stone room. It was part of a building large enough to pass fora keep at any other fortress, but here at Drassil it was just one of many buildings built by giants so long ago which still stood empty. Kol had given it to Erdene as quarters for her and her retainers for the duration of her stay in the fortress.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Erdene was seated in a high-backed chair close to the fire, her first-sword Yul behind her, a table at her side with jug and cups.\\n\\nKol was standing before Erdene, Lorina atone shoulder, Riv at the other. Bleda's step faltered at the sight of her.\\n\\nRiv looked at Bleda as he approached, her face mottled with bruises and cuts from her fight in the weapons-field.\\n\\nShe smiled on seeing him.\\n\\nHe felt something shift in his belly at that, like the fluttering of a moth's wings, and at the same time he was painfully aware of his mother's gaze upon him. With an effort he kept his face emotionless, saw Riv's smile wither and fade.\\n\\nHe stopped a few paces from his mother and dropped to one knee before her, his head bowed. He heard the scuff of Ellac and Ruga's knees scraping the stone floor behind him.\\n\\nA silence.\\n\\n\\\"Rise,\\\" his mother grunted, and the three of them stood before her. She looked older, deep lines in her brown-weathered face, a white scar standing stark across her shaved head. Her warrior braid was curled across one shoulder like an iron-grey serpent.\\n\\nShe studied Bleda with her dark eyes, then stood and held her arm out, offering him the warrior grip.\\n\\nHe stood as still as stone, frozen with surprise, then reached out and took the offered embrace, felt the corded muscle of her arm through her wool deel. Inside, his heart was soaring.\\n\\nShe recognizes meas a warrior, no longer a child. He wanted to laugh and dance, to lift his mother up and spin and squeeze her.\\n\\nInstead he stared at her, his face an emotionless mask.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2298,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Help to continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 26"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Erdene was seated in a high-backed chair close to the fire, her first-sword Yul behind her, a table at her side with jug and cups.\n\nKol was standing before Erdene, Lorina atone shoulder, Riv at the other. Bleda's step faltered at the sight of her.\n\nRiv looked at Bleda as he approached, her face mottled with bruises and cuts from her fight in the weapons-field.\n\nShe smiled on seeing him.\n\nHe felt something shift in his belly at that, like the fluttering of a moth's wings, and at the same time he was painfully aware of his mother's gaze upon him. With an effort he kept his face emotionless, saw Riv's smile wither and fade.\n\nHe stopped a few paces from his mother and dropped to one knee before her, his head bowed. He heard the scuff of Ellac and Ruga's knees scraping the stone floor behind him.\n\nA silence.\n\n\"Rise,\" his mother grunted, and the three of them stood before her. She looked older, deep lines in her brown-weathered face, a white scar standing stark across her shaved head. Her warrior braid was curled across one shoulder like an iron-grey serpent.\n\nShe studied Bleda with her dark eyes, then stood and held her arm out, offering him the warrior grip.\n\nHe stood as still as stone, frozen with surprise, then reached out and took the offered embrace, felt the corded muscle of her arm through her wool deel. Inside, his heart was soaring.\n\nShe recognizes meas a warrior, no longer a child. He wanted to laugh and dance, to lift his mother up and spin and squeeze her.\n\nInstead he stared at her, his face an emotionless mask."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Erdene released his arm and nodded a greeting to Ellac.\n\n\"The moons since I last laid eyes upon you have treated you well,\" Erdene said, looking Bleda up and down. She prodded his belly. \"Though a little too well, perhaps.\"\n\nBleda blinked at that. He prided himself on his fitness. He trained with his honour guard each morning, where Ellac put him through his paces, and through his pouring sweat and pounding heart Bleda had regularly cursed the old man for having no heart or compassion. And then after a meal break and his lessons Bleda trained in the weapons-field each afternoon, learning Drassil's many varied military disciplines. He didn't think there was an ounce of fat on his body, but he wasn't going to point that out to his mother.\n\nHe looked down at her bony finger poking his belly, felt it digging into the washboard-hard ridges of his abdominal muscles.\n\nA moment's thought. Is my mother making a joke?\n\n\"I will watch you train in the weapons-field, and make sure that life here is not too soft fora Sirak prince,\" Erdene said.\n\nKol smiled. \"You will not be disappointed,\" he said. \"Bleda excels in the field at most disciplines. His body and mind are strong. Honed. As is his aim.\" Kol didn't smile at the last remark.\n\n\"I will be the judge of that,\" Erdene said. \"So-\" she looked at Kol-\"much has changed here, since my last visit.\" Her gaze moved pointedly to Riv.\n\n\"Aye, betrayal and tragedy has struck us, with the death of Israfil,\" Kol said. \"But the light behind the clouds is that we are moving into anew age. A more tolerant age, which should bode well for all peoples in the Banished Lands, the Sirak included.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Erdene looked at Riv, her thick musculature, her wings, her bruises and scars.\n\n\"Tolerant? I suppose she is still breathing,\" Erdene said. \"Your Lore spoke of abomination and execution where half-breeds are concerned, I am told.\"\n\n\"Riv is no abomination,\" a voice said. When Bleda saw that all were staring at him he realized it had been his voice.\n\nA flicker of something across his mother's face, too fast to read.\n\n\"I am not an abomination,\" Riv growled, \"and any who wish to execute me-\" she looked at them all, slowly, one by one, then gave a shrug of her muscled shoulders-\"I say, let them try.\"\n\nSo fierce. So much against her, and yet she would fight the world, if she had to.\n\n\"It looks like some have already tried,\" Erdene said.\n\n\"Aye, they have. And yet here I stand,\" Riv said, a vicious smile cutting her face.\n\nKol threw his head back and laughed.\n\n\"Riv is a fierce one, and no denying,\" Kol said, still chuckling. He reached for the jug on the table and poured them all a cup of wine, taking along draught from his own cup, draining it and then pouring himself another.\n\n\"But these are fierce times, and fierce is what I need; the Kadoshim are moving throughout the Banished Lands, have attacked Drassil itself, though they were taught the error of that.\"\n\nBleda remembered that all too well: the Kadoshim attacking the Great Hall, attempting to free Asroth from his gaol of iron. Bleda had even played apart infighting them off, had slain some of their Feral beast-men. It had showed him that no matter what he thought of the Ben-Elim, the Kadoshim were worse. An evil that could not be negotiated with."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We must talk of strategy,\" Kol said, \"of how to work together to best defeat their scheming.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Erdene said. \"I have heard much of the Kadoshim. Of bonfire signals, of human sacrifice, entire towns slaughtered. But, is it not the Lord Protector with whom I should be talking about this matter?\"\n\n\"I am the Lord Protector,\" Kol said. \"To all intents. It is just a formality to proclaim me.\"\n\n\"Really?\" Erdene said. \"I have heard that Sariel sees things differently.\"\n\nA flicker of malice twisted Kol's face, replaced in a heartbeat with his sardonic smile.\n\n\"Trust me, Sariel is of no matter,\" he replied, taking another long sip from his cup. \"Now, enough of abominations and executions and fighting to the death, and onto happier matters. Your arrival was timely-and I thank you for your tithe of flesh. We are lacking in range troops at an elite level, and your contribution will be perfect to redress that balance, along with Uldin's tithe of flesh from the Cheren Clan.\" He paused for another drink.\n\n\"I had already sent messengers to bid you join us at Drassil,\" Kol continued, \"and Uldin of the Cheren. My messengers must have reached Arcona by now and delivered the message to him. But I was not requesting you to speed your tithe to us here at Drassil, I was asking you to join us for altogether another reason.\" Kol's smile drifted to Bleda, giving him a bad feeling in his belly.\n\n\"I see no reason to delay our plans for unifying the peoples of this Land of the Faithful. Bleda and Jin will be married upon Midsummer's Day.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Bleda strode along Drassil's streets."},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was cold and dark, torchlight flickering from shuttered windows around him. He was walking from the meeting with Kol and his mother, where he had spent as long as it took fora candle to burn from wick to stump as he had listened to the myriad details that went into planning his own handbinding.\n\nPlanning how I will be packaged and sold to seal a covenant between my people and the Ben-Elim, as if I were a prize bull at market.\n\nHe sucked in along breath and blew it out slowly, trying to control his sense of unease about it all.\n\nIt is my duty to serve my Clan, to protect them. Wedding Jin will put generations of blood-feud behind the Sirak and Cheren.\n\n\"Life is complicated,\" he breathed, to himself or Ruga, he was not sure.\n\nRuga strode along half a step behind him. She wore a cloak against the cold, though she'd pushed the hood back, her eyes always moving.\n\n\"For you, Lord,\" she agreed. \"Not for me. I serve my Queen, my Prince, my Clan. I eat, sleep, fight.\" She shrugged.\n\nBleda wanted to smile at that, felt jealous of the simplicity of her life.\n\nA muffled shout drifted down to them from above, and in a second Ruga had her bow in her hand, an arrow nocked. Bleda rested his hand on his bow in its case, staring up into the darkness.\n\nClouds masked the stars, the moon a silver sheen that gave little light. Either side of Bleda, buildings towered, most of them empty, here and there the flicker of firelight behind shuttered windows. They were in a section of the fortress used as barracks for new arrivals to Drassil, which was why Bleda was here-his mother was housed in the same quarter."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Another shout, almost directly above, a stirring of air, more like turbulence than wind. Unnatural, somehow.\n\nSomething dropped from the sky, a clang as it bounced and sparked on flagstones. Bleda ran to the object and picked it up. It was round, glinting in the wan light. A silver torc with two serpents' heads. Parts of it were coated in something black and sticky. Bleda touched it.\n\n\"Blood,\" he whispered to Ruga, who was scanning the coal-black above.\n\nThere were no more sounds, no sense of any kind of presence. Bleda slipped the torc into his cloak, both of them still looking up. Then something materialized out of the darkness, pale and floating. A large white feather drifted down between them and landed at Bleda's feet.\n\nIt had blood on it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Drem blinked sweat from his eyes and stumbled over a rock. He was trying to keep Flick insight, without breaking his ankle or neck on the loose terrain.\n\nAnd that crow sets quite apace.\n\nThey had followed Flick south and east into the Desolation, four days of almost constant movement, ever using the gullies and ravines that twisted through the land like the desiccated veins of a corpse.\n\nFlick was swooping back to them, low over their heads.\n\n\"Wait here, wait here,\" the huge crow squawked, \"Flick find Stepor.\"\n\nDrem turned to watch Flick pass over them all, the white bear far to the rear of their column raising its head and rumbling at the crow. Flick ignored it and banked into a half-circle, disappearing up and over the edge of the ravine they had been following since dawn.\n\nDrem looked to the north-west, eyes searching the skies. There was still no sign of Morn's bat-like silhouette. Drem had seen no evidence of the half-breed since the day they had fought the wyrms, almost a ten-night ago.\n\nDoesn't mean she's not up there, though, Drem thought. He felt more vulnerable now that Flick was gone, especially down herein a ravine, noway of knowing if enemies prowled above them, just beyond the ravine's edge.\n\nA bad spot for an ambush.\n\nIn the distance, the white-topped peaks of the Bonefells reared like jagged teeth along the horizon, making Drem realize how far south they had come. The weather had changed, the snow clouds disappearing, the ground underfoot free from snow, and the temperature had risen.\n\nA handful of days had passed since Drem had woken and not had to crack ice from his beard."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"We are leaving winter behind us.\n\nHe twisted his head, squinting into the distance as something drew his eye. A flicker of movement, a speck in the sky. Drem blinked, straining to see better, but whatever it was had gone, if there had been anything there. Absently, his hand reached to take his pulse.\n\n\"Stepor must be close, then,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Must be,\" Keld said. The huntsman seemed to have fully recovered from his injuries, though Fen still walked with a limping gait at Keld's side. Drem suspected that would never leave the wolven-hound.\n\n\"Good old Rab,\" Cullen said. \"I knew he wouldn't let us down.\"\n\n\"He's a good bird,\" Keld nodded.\n\nDrem walked back to Hammer and checked on her injuries, the bear lowering her head to give him an affectionate nudge with her muzzle. He was pleased to see she was mending well, all her wounds healing, scabs thick, some of them already peeling to reveal white scars underneath.\n\nHer fur will never grow back there, Drem thought. \"A record of your courage and loyalty,\" Drem murmured as he stroked a scar along Hammer's muzzle.\n\nHe looked at the white bear. It was thirty or forty paces behind Hammer and had sat down with a rumbling sigh. It was still following them, or following Hammer, seeming quite happy to shamble along with them, though sometimes it would fall behind as it paused to rest. Its wounds had taken their toll. They were far worse than Hammer's, and each night Drem, Keld and Cullen had tried to change its dressings. They had not been entirely successful, the bear growling, curling his lip to reveal teeth as long as Drem's seax. Atone point Hammer had intervened and swatted the white bear with a paw, and although the white bear was significantly bigger than Hammer, he had acquiesced to her reprimand, bowing his head and rumbling quietly in his belly."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But then Drem had discovered the trick to approaching the white bear safely. He reached into his pack and pulled out a clay jar, un-stoppering it and pouring some of its contents into his hand.\n\nHoney.\n\n\"Here you go, lad,\" Drem said as he approached the white bear, holding his handout.\n\nThe white bear lifted his head and took a great sniff, then heaved his bulk from the ground and ambled towards Drem, who waited patiently.\n\nThe bear licked Drem's hand with a huge, sandpaper-rough tongue, lapping the honey from his palm and all the while making contented snuffling, grumbling sounds. With his other hand Drem patted the bear's cheek and dug deep into the animal's thick fur to scratch his neck.\n\nWhen the bear had licked every last fraction of honey from Drem's hand, leaving it drenched and dripping with saliva, Drem flicked globs of spittle from his hand and scooped some more honey from his jar, spreading it over a rock.\n\nThe bear set to licking that clean and Drem checked on his wounds, used his water skin to wash them out, then applied fresh poultices of yarrow and comfrey. They were improving but were not yet as healed as Hammer's.\n\n\"We are all slaves to our bellies,\" Cullen said from behind Drem. He was leaning against a boulder with his arms folded across his chest.\n\n\"Speak for yourself,\" Keld grunted as he clambered up onto the boulder, allowing him to see a little further into the distance.\n\nTwo specks were in the sky, a black smudge and a pale one, growing quickly larger, swooping down into the ravine."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Stepor coming,\" Flick squawked, over and over.\n\n\"Rab!\" Cullen called out happily as the white smudge materialized into their friend and spiralled down to them.\n\n\"Friends, friends, friends,\" Rab cawed as he alighted upon Cullen's outstretched arm.\n\nFlick landed on the boulder beside Keld and set to grooming his feathers on one wing, all the while a beady eye watching Rab.\n\n\"You did it, Rab,\" Cullen said. \"You brought help.\"\n\n\"Rab did, Rab did,\" the white crow squawked, hopping up and down from one claw to the other in his excitement. \"Told Byrne Rab's friends need help.\"\n\n\"Ah, but you're a good friend to us, Rab, and no denying,\" Cullen said, grinning as he scratched the bird's chest.\n\n\"Flick found you,\" Flick reminded them from his boulder, shaking to ruffle his feathers up.\n\nDo crows sulk? Drem wondered.\n\n\"Flick clever, Flick brave,\" Rab cawed, bobbing his head.\n\n\"And we're grateful to you, Flick,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Welcome,\" Flick croaked.\n\nFen stood and sniffed the air, eyes fixed on the shadows in the ravine.\n\nAnd then there were shapes appearing, two four-legged shadows flitting amongst boulders and twisted hawthorn, another figure forming behind them. A dark-haired man dressed simply in leather and fur, the only hint of ornamentation the silver-starred brooch that pinned his cloak. He had a scarred, honest face above a snarl of black beard as thick and wild as the hawthorns in the ravine, his body lean, like Keld's, honed by the wilderness."},{"from":"human","value":"The huntsmen of Dun Seren all look like trappers."},{"from":"gpt","value":"But with more weapons.\n\nAxes and knives bristled from various belts strapped around his body, more hilts poking from his boots.\n\n\"Well met, Keld,\" the dark-haired man said as Keld climbed from his perch atop the boulder and strode to him.\n\n\"Well met, Stepor,\" Keld said, gripping Stepor's forearm in the warrior grip.\n\n\"What took you?\" Cullen said as he strolled over.\n\n\"The Desolation's a big place,\" Stepor grunted at Cullen, giving him a dark look from beneath bushy brows, but he took the young warrior's arm all the same.\n\n\"Well, better late than never,\" Cullen said, grinning.\n\n\"Late! Well, if you hadn't gone and got yourself lost in the arse-end of the world, in winter...\"\n\n\"I'm only jesting with you.\" Cullen grinned, holding his hands up. \"Ach, but it's good to see a slice of home, is it not, Keld?\"\n\n\"Aye, that it is,\" Keld said. He was crouching, two enormous wolven-hounds sniffing and licking him. One was crow-black with a splash of white on one paw, the other was as red as rust. With a growl, Fen pushed in, reminding them who Keld belonged to.\n\n\"No need for jealousy, lad. You know Grack and Ralla, and we're all on the same side here,\" Keld said, tugging on one of Fen's ears.\n\n\"And you must be Drem,\" Stepor said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Drem said.\n\nStepor strode to him, offering an arm. \"Well met.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Drem took Stepor's arm. \"Well met,\" he said.\n\nStepor looked Drem up and down. He was shorter than Drem, most men were, but Drem still felt like a child being inspected. He resisted the urge to look away and forced himself to meet Stepor's gaze. He'd never liked to be stared at, but his father had told him it was important to meet another man's eye, and so Drem had trained himself to do it.\n\n\"I can see your mother in you,\" Stepor said.\n\nMy mother.\n\nIt felt strange that others had known her, when Drem remembered so little of her. Her voice, her laugh, but so much else had faded.\n\n\"Hope you can fight like her, too, if half of what Rab's told us is true,\" Stepor said.\n\n\"Rab tell truth,\" the white crow squawked.\n\n\"Gulla in the north, acolytes, Feral men. Revenants,\" Stepor said, part statement, part question.\n\n\"Aye, it's all true, and more,\" Keld said. \"It's the time we've been waiting for. And Gunil stood with Gulla.\"\n\nStepor blew out along whistle. \"That's not going to go down well with old One-Eye.\"\n\n\"It's along walk from Drassil to the Desolation,\" Keld said.\n\n\"Aye, it would be, if Balur One-Eye was at Drassil,\" Stepor said. \"But he's not. He's about half a league to the south, helping us look for you.\"\n\n\"Balur One-Eye,\" breathed Drem. It was as if heroes of myth were coming to life. Warriors of the Bright Star, giants..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You'll meet him soon enough,\" Stepor said, glancing up at the sky and the sun. \"If we ever stop talking and start walking.\" He looked at Hammer. \"Sig,\" he said, looking from Keld to Cullen, grief washing all of their faces. \"I grieve for your loss,\" he said to them all. \"For all our loss, but you were her crew, were closer to her than any other, except maybe Byrne. Sig was one of the greatest amongst us. Gave me more than a few bruises in her time, but each one taught me something.\"\n\n\"Aye. Move faster, duck quicker, or better still, just drop your weapon and walkaway from Sig,\" Cullen said, a faint smile on his face, a tear in his eye.\n\n\"Ha,\" Stepor barked a laugh. \"True enough. Not that you ever walked away, young Cullen. I've seen some of the lessons that Sig taught you.\" He winked at Keld.\n\n\"Never have learned to walkaway,\" Cullen admitted.\n\n\"There's much to talk on,\" Stepor said, \"including your new travelling companion.\" He raised an eyebrow and nodded at the white bear. \"But let's move out and set you on the path for home.\"\n\nHome? Dun Seren. I was born there, and yet I barely remember it.\n\nDrem drew in a deep breath and shouldered his pack.\n\n\"Flick, watch our backs while Rab leads us home,\" Stepor said, and with that they were moving out. Rab and Flick flapped into the sky, Fen, Grack and Ralla loping ahead and slipping into the shadows, Stepor setting a brisk pace, with Hammer and the white bear shambling after them.\n\nGoing home? If Dun Seren is my home, it is only because something of my mother and father abides there, Drem thought. And, he reminded himself, looking over his shoulder at the sky behind:"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"We are not safe yet."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv ducked a sword-swing, felt the air of it whistle over her head, stepped under Kol's arm and inside his guard, close enough to smell his sweat, and stabbed at his belly.\n\nWith a burst of speed she would not have thought possible, he somehow moved, twisting out of the way of her strike, swirling around her in a blur of white wings, and then his sword was resting on the back of her neck.\n\n\"You're dead,\" he said calmly.\n\nRiv snarled, a spasm of frustration racking her body. It was not the first time she'd heard that phrase today.\n\nKol stepped away, a smirk edging his lips; other Ben-Elim were behind him. Amongst them Riv saw Hadran, who had become her permanent guard. A dark bruise stained his eye and forehead from the fight in the field.\n\nRiv took a few paces and deep breaths to calm her simmering anger. They were back in the weapons-field. It looked different from the last time she'd seen it, with bodies wrapped in combat, or sprawled across the ground. Looking back on it, much seemed to have changed since then, when so many had stood for her, even crowds of traders and other ordinary citizens rushing in from beyond the field to defend her.\n\nOr maybe they all just like a good scrap.\n\nEven if there was some truth in that, Riv knew there was more to it. Ever since then, people had treated her differently, walking and talking with her in the street, sitting and eating with her in the feast-hall, treating her more like a wonder than a monstrosity.\n\nThere were still the dark looks, the glares and twisted mouths, but they seemed to be in the minority, and Riv found herself caring less."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Aphra had said to her that it was because she had not killed Sorch.\n\n\"You showed mercy,\" Aphra had said.\n\n\"Think,\" Kol was saying. \"You have anew weapon now, you must learn to use it.\"\n\nHe was talking about Riv's wings. That was what this whole training session was about, helping Riv to adjust to her wings, and to learn how to use them in combat. She thought she had, but sparring against Kol made her realize how much more there was to learn.\n\n\"There are strengths and weaknesses to having wings,\" Kol continued, pacing around Riv. \"The main weakness is that we area bigger target; there is more of us to hit, and therefore injure. Also, our wings are vulnerable, they cannot be armoured or protected, so you must always be mindful of that. And for you, you must remember that you will not fit through spaces as you used to, that your wings are wider and taller than you, and you are wide enough already.\"\n\nRiv was already learning that, had discovered that sitting in chairs was difficult, and that some doorways were not wide enough for her, though fortunately Drassil had been built by giants for giants, so that was rare.\n\n\"The great strengths of wings in combat is speed and directional change,\" Kol continued.\n\nI think you just demonstrated that, Riv thought glumly.\n\n\"I can see you are judging my capabilities by your own ability, your own concept of speed and movement, and that of humankind,\" Kol said. \"You stabbed where you expected me to be. You must make allowances for that, and in time it will become automatic. You know most combat is too fast for thought, it is set reactions, drilled into us. So, you must drill hard, because the Kadoshim areas fast as us Ben-Elim, and you are going to be fighting Kadoshim.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Best way to learn is to do,\" Riv growled, and attacked Kol, pulsing her wings to speed her cut at Kol's chest, a diagonal sweep that caught his hip as he swayed right. Riv grinned and followed with a stab and slash at his belly and thigh, Kol stumbling backwards, but just when Riv thought she had him, Kol was gone, the grass swirling from the beating of his wings and his feet disappearing over Riv's head. She stabbed up and missed, glimpsed Kol looping over her, alighting behind her.\n\nWith a snarl, Riv leaped into the air, her wings powering her up, out of Kol's range, twisting to turn and face him, slashing down at his head. Kol blocked the blow and then he was in the air, too, both of them spiralling higher, swirling around each other, the crack of their practice swords a rapid discordant beat.\n\nRiv swept in close, stabbed at Kol's chest. His wings folded in tight and he just seemed to drop from the sky, her blade stabbing fresh air, then his wings were extending and he was cutting at her legs, striking her ankle and calf, rising up behind her to stab her in the back.\n\nRiv resisted the urge to leap at him, cling onto him and batter him with her fists. Instead she took a shuddering breath and flew a few wingbeats out of range, calming herself, thinking about the technical lessons being taught here.\n\nIt's about fluid motion, about speed, and using that speed to attack the flanks, striking from unexpected angles. The unseen blow is what ends the fight.\n\nShe gritted her teeth for another attack.\n\n\"Enough,\" Kol said, raising a hand. He was hovering in the air, wings beating lazily as he looked down at the weapons-field. Riv followed his gaze and saw that Erdene had ridden into the field with a large entourage behind her, making for the archery range. She saw Bleda riding at Erdene's side. He was staring up at her, and fora moment Riv remembered how she had smiled at him when he had arrived at the meeting with Erdene. She had felt like a fool, and something else, as if some bright, fragile thing within her had withered when she got no response from him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But he spoke out for me, when Erdene said I am an abomination.\n\nShe rolled her shoulders to ease the ache from hovering in the sky as emotions broiled in her gut.\n\n\"I must talk with Erdene,\" Kol said. \"Do not stray far, I must have you at my side in the Ben-Elim Moot.\"\n\n\"Huh,\" Riv grunted at Kol's back as he tucked his wings in and dived down towards Erdene.\n\nRiv was not looking forward to the Ben-Elim gathering, where once again she would be the topic of discussion. Although Kol clearly had a large proportion of Ben-Elim loyal to him, it was mostly other Ben-Elim that seemed to be struggling with her existence.\n\nShe scanned the field, saw Aphra drilling her shield wall, five hundred strong now. They were being broken up into five units of a hundred each, then training on the manoeuvres to merge and then split again.\n\nI miss the shield wall. Having wings is... lonely.\n\nRiv's eyes drifted back to Kol. He was standing beside Erdene now, though she seemed far more intent on watching Bleda ride the archery range. He was trotting onto the greensward, a gauntlet of land flanked on either side by two rows of straw targets. This was anew addition to the weapons-field, designed and erected after Bleda and Jin's honour guards had arrived, specifically for them to train and drill in their traditional ways. Riv had been stunned by their skill, both as horsemen and archers.\n\nBleda sat relaxed and easy upon his horse, moving fluidly from a trot into a canter and then a gallop, guiding his mount with his knees while he pulled a fistful of arrows from his quiver. He held them in his left hand that gripped his bow, leaning into his high-fronted saddle, and in a blur he was drawing and loosing, straw men jolting and shuddering with the impact of his arrows."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv glided down, wings spread wide, watching as Bleda reached the end of the gauntlet, her admiration for his skill temporarily outweighing her shifting emotions. As Bleda left the range and curled round to return to his mother, two more riders entered the greensward, a man and woman, and in heartbeats their mounts were galloping, both of them leaning and loosing arrows, one to each side of the gauntlet. One target spun and pitched to the ground, the twine tying it to its pole snapping with the power of the shot.\n\nRiv flew down to Bleda, who was trotting now, and she matched her speed to his. Kol and Erdene were about a hundred paces away, deep in conversation.\n\n\"Fine shooting,\" she said.\n\nBleda shrugged, an acknowledgement.\n\n\"I saw you sparring in the sky,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"Kol is teaching me how to use my wings,\" Riv answered.\n\n\"You use them well enough,\" Bleda said. \"Back in the glade, you put Kol down.\"\n\nI wish we were back there still, that we could leave all of this behind. I felt... happy there, with you.\n\nThat is not real, now, Riv scolded herself. Live in the now, not the what-might-have-been.\n\n\"Aye,\" Riv nodded, \"but I didn't win.\"\n\n\"True enough.\"\n\n\"And most of that was blind rage and luck.\"\n\n\"Rage, yes.\" Bleda nodded. \"Luck, no.\"\n\n\"I had good people at my side, watching my back.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Bleda agreed again, \"but you fought Kol alone.\" He looked up at Riv and met her gaze, his dark eyes sad and full of emotion, even though his face did not shift or change even a fraction. Fora moment Riv felt the world fade and she was sitting back on the roadside in Forn with Bleda, laughing and giving him a flower of mountain thyme."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bleda reined in his horse.\n\nRiv alighted beside him.\n\n\"Why are we here?\" Bleda said, quietly. He looked around, eyes settling on Kol.\n\nBecause it was the only way to stop Kol from executing you. The only way for us to live without spending our lives-most likely our very short lives-being hunted to the ends of the earth.\n\n\"It was the wise thing to do,\" Riv said.\n\n\"Wise? You area lot of things, Riv, but I would not have counted wise as one of them.\" Bleda's mouth twitched, a moment of shock and humour before his cold-face locked back into place.\n\nRiv grinned at him. \"I can be wise, sometimes.\"\n\n\"Betrothed,\" a voice called out.\n\n\"See what your wisdom has done tome,\" Bleda whispered.\n\nRiv looked up to see Jin walking to the archery range, a score of her honour guard at her shoulders. She started to veer towards Bleda, but Queen Erdene called to her.\n\nWith a sigh, Bleda clicked his horse on and Riv walked beside him.\n\n\"Why did you try to kill Sorch?\" Riv asked him.\n\n\"Ah. I did not try to kill him.\"\n\n\"Are you telling me you aimed for his leg?\" That thought had not crossed Riv's mind.\n\n\"Of course! You think I would miss if I wanted to kill him?\"\n\nRiv shrugged. \"It was a hard shot.\"\n\n\"I do not miss.\" Bleda snorted. \"If I had wanted to kill him, he would be dead.\"\n\nRiv remembered watching Bleda a few moments ago, at the gallop and still putting his arrows in hearts and eyes."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So why did you shoot him in the leg?\"\n\n\"To distract you. You were strangling him. I thought you were going to choke the life from him, right therein the sky, in front of a whole field of people. It would hardly have ingratiated you to the folk of Drassil.\"\n\n\"So, you tried to distract me by shooting Sorch in the leg?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nRiv roared her laughter, wiped tears from her eyes when she regained some control. \"That was thoughtful of you.\" She chuckled.\n\n\"I must confess, I may have enjoyed it a little,\" Bleda said, which set Riv to laughing again.\n\nJin stared at them with cold eyes, though Erdene was talking to her.\n\n\"This fighting in the sky,\" Bleda said, \"it strikes me that you are limited. You still have to be close to kill. You are missing a great opportunity.\"\n\n\"What's that?\" Riv asked.\n\n\"You should wield ranged weapons. The bow, javelins. You would be death from above. And you should carry a shield.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"In case Jin wanted to shoot you from the sky.\"\n\nThat was a sobering thought. Riv had seen Jin's skill with a bow, and also the way the Cheren Princess looked at her.\n\n\"I'm not good enough with a bow,\" Riv said. It washer worst weapon. Sword, spear, knife she felt she could match most people, but with a bow...\n\n\"You could get better,\" Bleda said. \"And you haven't used the right bow. You couldn't take one of those logs in the air with you.\" He nodded towards some of Drassil's huntsmen and scouts practising on the range. \"You would need a Sirak bow, they are more suited to motion, to fighting whilst moving. They are smaller, easier to draw and with a greater range.\" He halted his horse again and lifted his bow from its case at his hip, his touch loving. He paused a moment, then offered it to Riv."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She was used to it, had looked after Bleda's bow secretly for over five years, and had regularly tended to it, but somehow, with Bleda offering the bow to her now, it felt different. She reached out and took it, almost reverently. The bow was light, much lighter than the bows of yew and ash and elm that Drassil's huntsmen used, and it was balanced differently. She turned it in her hand, saw the layers of wood and horn and sinew.\n\nHow do you ever make something like this?\n\nRiv took the bowstring and began to draw.\n\n\"No,\" Bleda said, shaking his head. \"Never draw without an arrow nocked.\"\n\nRiv just shrugged and released the string.\n\nWhat Bleda was saying did make sense. Of course, there was a great advantage to being airborne in battle, but how much greater would that advantage be if you could strike at your enemy but they could not strike at you.\n\nAnd the Kadoshim-it could be used against them, too.\n\n\"Where would I get one of these?\" Riv asked.\n\nBleda shrugged. \"I'll see what I can do.\"\n\nThey were approaching Erdene and Kol now, Jin talking with them, too.\n\nBleda slipped gracefully from his saddle, one of his honour guard stepping forwards to take his reins-a dark-haired woman with a limp. Riv recognized her as one of Bleda's guards who had been at the cabin, so she nodded a greeting.\n\nThe warrior nodded in return, her eyes drifting to Bleda's bow in Riv's hand.\n\n\"Come, try it now,\" Bleda said, leading Riv to the toe-mark fora target on the range. A straw man about seventy or eighty paces away."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Nice and close to start with,\" Bleda said.\n\nRiv snorted, thinking he was joking, then saw from his face that he was not.\n\n\"Here,\" Bleda said, offering her arrows from his belted quiver.\n\nRiv took one.\n\n\"No, three or four, like this,\" Bleda said, grabbing a fistful and threading them through his fingers, showing Riv how to hold them and the bow at the same time. \"Time is the key to success, so why waste time reaching to draw one arrow at a time?\"\n\nFair point.\n\nClumsily, Riv took one from her left hand and nocked it, started to draw.\n\n\"Wait,\" Bleda said. \"See your target first. Imagine your arrow sinking deep. Think about the range, the poundage of the bow, the wind, balance it all in your mind first. Never take your eye from the target, even as you draw, and aim as you draw. Do not pause at the end of the draw. One motion, draw and release. Draw and release.\"\n\nRiv took a moment to think about all of that.\n\nIt's like the draw-attack from a scabbard, she thought. So many elements in one move, yet all of them made to look effortless. She took a deep breath, then nocked, drew and released, aiming a little high and to the right of her straw man's heart.\n\nIt hit him in the shoulder. Better than she would have done with a yew bow. The bow was remarkably smooth to draw, feeling much easier than one of Drassil's solid wood bows, and yet she had felt the power in the arrow as it had left the string, a rich thrum, and she'd known it would sink much deeper than from the bows she was used to using."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Again,\" Bleda said, \"but this time, draw and loose a second arrow without waiting to see where the first one lands.\"\n\nRiv did. A deep, calming breath, then nock, draw, release, a slight fumble to nock the next arrow, then draw and release. She lowered the bow, saw the third arrow sink deep into the straw man's thigh. The second was buried in its belly.\n\n\"It is a start,\" Bleda said, \"from which you can only get better.\"\n\nFor the first time she could remember, Riv was glad of Bleda's cold-face, knowing that he was probably disgusted with her efforts, but secretly Riv was just pleased to have not missed with any of the three arrows.\n\n\"I will teach you,\" Bleda declared.\n\n\"A big auroch like her cannot master the skills of a Cheren bow,\" a voice behind them said. Riv wheeled around to see Jin standing behind her.\n\n\"It's a Sirak bow,\" Riv growled.\n\n\"Cheren, Sirak, we will be one Clan, soon,\" Jin said with a shrug. \"Isn't that right, my betrothed.\" Her eyes stayed fixed on Riv.\n\nBleda grunted something unintelligible.\n\n\"Bleda, I have good news. Kol has just told me that my father is less than a ten-night from Drassil, come with much of my kin to celebrate our handbinding.\"\n\n\"But Midsummer's Day is moons from now,\" Bleda said, a hint of emotion in his voice.\n\nPanic? Riv wanted it to be panic.\n\n\"There is much to organize,\" Jin said, her eyes still on Riv. And then Jin smiled at her, an expression that looked wholly alien on Jin's normally stony face."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Riv,\" a voice called, and Kol beat his wings and took to the air, hovering above them. \"Come, Riv, it is time for the Moot,\" Kol called down to her.\n\nRiv handed Bleda back his bow, then bent her legs and leaped into the air. She angled her wings and beat them harder than necessary to channel a blast of air at Jin, making her stumble back a step. Riv couldn't keep the grin from her face as she climbed into the sky, looking back once to see that Jin was talking animatedly to Bleda. Then Riv noticed someone staring at her, a fixed gaze that followed Riv through the sky as she flew after Kol.\n\nIt was Erdene, Queen of the Sirak."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha stood watching the two crows descend into the ravine. She was hiding in a stand of alder and beech that stood on a plateau above the ravine, Morn atone shoulder, Gunil at the other, her Ferals and Red Right Hand spread out behind her.\n\nFritha muttered a curse.\n\nCrows most likely meant the Order of the Bright Star were not far behind. She was tempted to rush them, knowing that Drem and his bedraggled companions were so close and unsuspecting of her presence.\n\n\"We should strike now,\" Morn whispered. \"They are so near.\"\n\nMorn had found them two days ago, returning to guide Fritha, but because of the wyrm, Fritha had not been able to move as fast as she'd have liked. Gunil had built the wyrm a cage, and two saplings had been cut down to make poles and a litter that they had tied to the girth and saddle of Gunil's bear, a makeshift travois that allowed them to continue tracking Drem and his companions. The weight of the sickly wyrm and its cage was not a problem to Claw, but the terrain was. Fritha had had to scout away that would not shake the cage to pieces, and so they were slower than Fritha had liked. She had thought about leaving the wyrm in its cage under guard, but it was so close to death that she had needed to spill her blood and chant her words of power twice since they had found the wyrm. If she left it, she knew it would die.\n\nIt would not take us long to reach that ravine; one burst of speed and we could be on them.\n\nBut it was open ground between this stand of trees and the ravine. If the Order of the Bright Star were close, she would be vulnerable. She knew her ability and that of her crew, knew they were deadly and dangerous."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But so are the warriors of the Order. I am no fool to risk a battle I might lose.\n\nAnd although Morn had been far wiser and not flown close, she had still been able to see and report to Fritha that even without any new additions from the Order of the Bright Star, there were still three men, the wolven-hound, and another bear down in the ravine.\n\nWherein the Otherworld did that come from? It must be one of the Order's battle bears, but where is its giant?\n\nDo I rush them?\n\nHer palm rested on the hilt of her short-sword. She was not afraid to use it, not afraid to fight. But she was afraid to lose, and to see her crew cut down.\n\nEleven Ferals. Ten of my Red Right Hand. Gunil and his bear, against three men, two bears and a wolven-hound. The odds are not so clear now, and that is without any of the Order of the Bright Star arriving. They must be close for their crows to be here. They could already be in the ravine with Drem.\n\nClaw rumbled a growl in the trees behind them.\n\n\"Keep him quiet,\" Fritha snapped as she balanced on the knife-edge of indecision. The bear growled again and Gunil strode back to him. She heard the giant swear.\n\nFritha shifted on her feet, felt her muscles tense and she gripped her sword hilt, ready to draw it.\n\nAnd then the two crows flapped out of the ravine, the white one heading south-east, away from them, while the black one rose higher into the sky, circling towards Fritha and her stand of trees."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Still,\" Fritha called to her people.\n\nClaw growled again, somehow sounding different from his usual one.\n\nI will go back there myself and kill that bear if it does not shut up.\n\n\"Fritha,\" Gunil called to her.\n\nSwearing under her breath, Fritha twisted on her heel and crept back into the stand of trees, a hundred or so paces and she saw the bulk of Claw. The wyrm cage was set behind him, unstrapped from its litter for the time being. The wyrm lay coiled and still within its bars.\n\n\"What is it?\" Fritha hissed.\n\nGunil just looked at the ground.\n\nHe'd unstrapped a large panier from Claw and laid it on the ground, opened the lid. Inside was a chest, the draig egg packed carefully within it, tight with straw.\n\nThe egg was moving.\n\nA draig is hatching.\n\nFritha froze fora moment, excitement and fear and wonder sweeping through her, washing all else away. She forgot about Drem and the others, about the crow somewhere in the sky above her, about the Great War, about the Banished Lands.\n\nAnd then she was on her knees, gently lifting the egg from the chest, straw falling away, and she was placing it on the ground, building up a bank of woodland litter around it to keep it from tipping over.\n\nThe side of the shell moved, like when she had seen her baby stir in her belly, the imprint of a hand or foot.\n\nA crackling sound, and a line appeared in the rippling hues of the egg, as fine as a hair, growing, branching into tendrils, like the veins of a leaf. A shape pushed out from the egg, a pinprick hole materializing, growing rapidly bigger and thick, mucus-like fluid leaked from the hole."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A series of cracks, as if Fritha had stood on a cluster of snails, and suddenly a shard of the egg was splintering away, something dark pushing it out. An eye blinked at Fritha.\n\nShe tentatively reached out and pulled the splintered part away, gripped another piece, gently working it loose, her hands slippery with jelly-like slime.\n\nA flat muzzle appeared, the creature within the egg squirming and wriggling, its first sight and breath filled with Fritha. Fritha worked harder at the shell, her excitement almost frantic, the creature within thrusting its snout through the hole, in moments its head free, then stuck at its broad shoulders, twisting and snapping as it tried to breakout.\n\n\"Patience, my love,\" Fritha crooned, hands slick with slime as she snapped another piece of shell, and then there was a concussive popping sound, cracks cobwebbing through the whole egg and it exploded, showering Fritha and Gunil's feet in shell and slime.\n\nA creature stood before Fritha on squat legs with abroad skull and flat muzzle. Wide, heavily muscled shoulders and a scaly torso tapered into a thick tail. From snout to tail-tip the baby draig was about the length of Fritha's arm. It opened its jaw, revealing rows of needle-like teeth, and let out a croaking dog-like bark, then it sniffed the air, snapping its jaws.\n\nIt's hungry.\n\nFritha lifted a portion of slime-covered eggshell and the draig sniffed it, along red tongue appearing, licking the mucus, and then it was crunching into the shell, devouring it in a series of rapid gulps. It looked at Fritha, wanting more."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha laughed and fed it more of the eggshell; in a few moments all of it gone into the draig's belly. It stared at Fritha again, thick tendrils of jelly hanging from its jaws, its tail twitching.\n\nStill hungry.\n\n\"Gunil, some wyrm meat.\"\n\nThey had stripped the wyrm carcasses of meat once her Ferals had had their fill-not that there had been much left after the feeding frenzy of eleven Ferals and Gunil's bear. Gunil had cooked it and packed it with salt. Fritha had found it surprisingly tasty.\n\nGunil opened a barrel strapped to his bear and passed Fritha a filleted section of wyrm. She waved it in front of the draig, its snout following the meat, sniffing it, and then its head was lunging forwards, chomping into the meat, ahead-shake like a terrier with a rat, and it tore a chunk, chewed and gulped, then immediately attacked the remaining meat. It swallowed the last portion, belched, then turned in a circle, scratched at the forest litter and lay down. Within heartbeats its belly was rising and falling in sleep.\n\nFritha stroked its broad head, scales still slick with glutinous slime. She looked over her shoulder, up at Gunil, and grinned. He did not look so happy as her, a slight twist of disgust on his lips.\n\nIt is life, new life. There is nothing but beauty in that.\n\n\"Gunil, we might need another cage.\"\n\nA rustling of branches above and behind Fritha, a bird squawking, and she jumped to her feet, turning, sword hissing into her hand."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was Morn, descending through the treetop canopy, something in her arms. She alighted before Fritha and held out a shifting, squirming bundle. It took Fritha a moment to realize what it was.\n\nThe net Morn had been snared in, and within it, a big black crow.\n\nFritha smiled at Morn.\n\n\"Let Flick go,\" the crow squawked.\n\nFritha clapped her hands in delight.\n\n\"Thank you, Drem,\" she said to the sky. \"One of Dun Seren's talking crows. Your gifts just keep oncoming.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv stood in a huge chamber, a half-circle of tiered stone seats leading down to a dais about a hundred paces wide. Ben-Elim thronged the room, areal sense of awe filling Riv at the sight of so many of the winged warriors in the same place.\n\nIs this all of them?\n\nShe had lived her whole life at Drassil and so was used to seeing many Ben-Elim, and she had been on numerous campaigns as support to her sister's hundred, but never had she seen this many Ben-Elim gathered together.\n\nThere must be three thousand of them inhere.\n\nRiv had been made to stand on the dais before the gathered Ben-Elim. She had received more than a few harsh looks, but to her surprise she also saw many faces that regarded her with something that resembled interest more than hate.\n\nOr perhaps it's wishful thinking.\n\nKol stood up. He was seated in the lowest tier, on the far edge of its arc, so that as he stood he could angle himself to lookup at all of the gathered Ben-Elim, and still be facing Riv.\n\n\"We must vote,\" he said. \"The day is almost done.\"\n\nBeams of light through huge unshuttered windows cut into the room, low as the sun dipped into the horizon. Riv had been standing in front of the gathered Ben-Elim long enough for her feet to ache. It had not been the most pleasant time of her life, bearing the brunt of three thousand judging pairs of eyes.\n\n\"Not all are here yet,\" a voice called out-Kamael with his fair hair, standing on the far side of the room, a dozen tiers up from the ground.\n\n\"You mean, Sariel is not here yet,\" Kol said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Aye. Sariel is leader of the southern garrison, a respected elder. We cannot proceed without him.\"\n\n\"If Sariel cannot find the time to come to our Moot, the first that has been called for over half a century, then perhaps he is not worth waiting for,\" Kol said. \"This is a sacred meeting and should be respected as such.\"\n\nVoices called out their agreement.\n\nA Ben-Elim flew in through one of the large windows, gliding to Kamael's side. A few whispered words, Kamael frowning.\n\n\"Well,\" Kol said. \"Will Sariel be gracing us with his presence?\"\n\n\"He... cannot be found,\" Kamael said.\n\n\"Perhaps he has returned to Ripa,\" Kol offered.\n\n\"No. This is not characteristic of Sariel. We should search for him,\" Kamael said.\n\n\"Break off the Moot to find one straggler?\" Kol snapped, waving his arms. \"Ridiculous. I say we cast our votes for the new Lord Protector now.\"\n\nKol, you are so clever. Riv eyed Kol suspiciously, wondering if he had played any part in Sariel's lack of appearance at the Moot.\n\nIt would not surprise me. She felt a sense of discomfort at that thought, another reminder of how far Kol was from Riv's moral code.\n\nAm I becoming like him, by ignoring his myriad dark deeds? Is this how Aphra felt? Each small step taken fora greater good, and then before you know it, you have walked a thousand leagues from where you used to be. And how do you return to that place, return to the person you were? Or if you cannot do that, how do you become the person that you wish to be?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Kamael scowled at Kol. \"Where is Sariel?\"\n\n\"I am not his keeper,\" Kol said, his expression flat and cold.\n\n\"Nothing would keep Sariel from this Moot.\" Kamael took a step closer to Kol. \"Something, or someone, must have stopped him.\"\n\nKol returned his gaze. \"Are you making an accusation? If you are, you must present your evidence, else you are spouting conjecture and fancy. That is not becoming of the Ben-Elim.\"\n\nHe is daring Kamael.\n\nKamael glared at Kola moment, his wings trembling.\n\n\"I have no evidence yet. But this Moot should be postponed until Sariel is found, or until we have answers for his absence.\"\n\n\"The fate of the Banished Lands should be postponed, with the Kadoshim stirring, because Sariel is late to a Moot?\"\n\n\"We should wait,\" Kamael maintained.\n\n\"It is not your decision to make,\" Kol said.\n\n\"And neither is it yours,\" Kamael answered. \"You are not our Lord Protector.\"\n\n\"Very well, let us vote on whether we should vote, then,\" Kol said, rolling his eyes. \"Or does that not meet with your approval either, Kamael? Would you be dictator to us all?\"\n\nCalls fora vote rang out.\n\nAlong silence, Kol and Kamael staring at each other as if the world around them was gone.\n\n\"Of course, let us vote,\" Kamael eventually said, though the twitching of his wings gave away his feelings on the matter.\n\nIt did not take long, the vast majority of the gathering stood to show their desire to vote."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I propose Kol be inducted as our new Lord Protector,\" a voice called out: Hadran, who remained on his seat even as the host who had stood were sitting back down. The bruises on his paleface from his fight in the weapons-field stood out like a smudge on pale parchment.\n\n\"First, we should discuss... this,\" Kamael said, waving a hand at Riv.\n\n\"There is nothing to discuss,\" Kol said. \"Riv was voted on before the whole of Drassil. To disregard that would be to disregard the people.\"\n\n\"We rule here,\" Kamael said.\n\nRiv just stared at the white-haired Ben-Elim. He was not the same as Sariel, did not seem to have his strength or force of presence. As much as she had despised what Sariel had said, his presence had been commanding. When he spoke, it felt natural to listen.\n\n\"We will not punish the innocent for the sins of their fathers, or mothers,\" Kol said. \"That has been decided, agreed by the people. Togo back on that would risk much, would even risk their faith in us, I fear. And let us not forget, when all of us are gathered together, there are little more than three thousand of us, whereas the mortals of these Banished Lands number in the hundreds of thousands. We rule because they allow us to rule.\"\n\n\"You speak nonsense.\" Kamael snorted.\n\n\"Do I?\" Kol replied. \"Our authority was accepted because we entered this world as the saviours of humankind, vanquishing the Kadoshim. But that was over a hundred years ago. Those grateful people are all long dead and in the ground. This new generation must accept us for what we do now, and they have already spoken on this matter. To overrule them now...\" Kol left the consequences of that hanging."},{"from":"human","value":"Rebellion?"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv thought.\n\nWhich is why you made your stand in front of the people, Kol. To put these Ben-Elim in a position that they could not withdraw from gracefully.\n\n\"Who was your father?\" Kamael said, ignoring Kol's words. He lifted into the air from his seat and glided down to the dais, landing a few paces before Riv. His eyes bore into her.\n\n\"I don't know,\" Riv said, returning his stare with matched intensity.\n\n\"Who was he?\" Kamael asked again, lips curling in a snarl.\n\n\"I. Don't. Know,\" Riv said, quietly, anger pulsing with the beat of her heart, a drumbeat in her skull.\n\n\"Your mother?\"\n\n\"Dalmae,\" Riv said. \"Once a captain of a White-Wing hundred.\"\n\n\"And where is she?\"\n\n\"She was slain,\" Riv said. \"The night Israfil died.\"\n\n\"She fought in Israfil's defence,\" Kol said, loudly, for all to hear.\n\nNo. She fought in my defence. Against you, Kol.\n\n\"Against traitors. Dalmae is a hero.\"\n\nMurderer, Riv thought, straining to keep her anger at Kol leashed, her focus directed at Kamael.\n\n\"This is all so convenient,\" Kamael said. \"Your father unknown; your mother dead.\"\n\n\"Convenient?\" Riv said. \"Convenient that my mother is dead?\" She felt her fingers twitch, the memory of Dalmae's lifeless eyes staring at her. Mother, grandmother, it did not matter to Riv. Dalmae had raised Rivas her own, a lifetime of caring, teaching, loving. Just the memory of her stirred grief in Riv deep as her bones."},{"from":"human","value":"\"I loved my mother,\" Riv snarled."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Her death was a tragedy, not a convenience.\" The thought of wrapping her fingers around Kamael's throat was growing evermore appealing.\n\nAnd then, without warning, Kamael was moving, drawing a knife, stabbing, wings beating to close the gap between them.\n\nRiv saw the blade coming at her chest, its tip glinting in the last rays of the sun. She threw herself backwards, her wings snapping out and beating to break her fall, holding her bent almost parallel to the ground. Kamael's knife passed above Riv, slicing only air, and then Riv was grabbing Kamael's wrist, a twist of her hips and a beat of her wings and she was turning in the air, rolling around his arm, spinning him, too, snapping his wrist and taking his feet from the floor. She slammed him into the ground, standing over him, fists clenched, nostrils flaring.\n\nHer hand reached to the short-sword at her hip.\n\nThen Kol was there. Kamael tried to rise and Kol kicked him back down, put afoot on his chest.\n\n\"Riv is the future,\" Kol said, leaning over him.\n\n\"She is an affront to Elyon's Lore,\" Kamael spluttered.\n\n\"There is no Elyon's Lore,\" Kol snarled back. \"You know this. You know that we wrote it.\"\n\n\"What?\" Riv said, stunned.\n\nKol froze, staring at Riv. A silence settled around them, like a held breath.\n\n\"Elyon's Lore was written by the Ben-Elim,\" Kol said finally. \"It did not come from Elyon the Maker, it was, is only what we thought his will would be.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Elyon's Lore, a lie.\n\nAll those countless hours listening to the Lore, learning, praying, obeying. The guilt of any wrongdoing.\n\nAnd it is a lie.\n\nHer world was continually shifting, like standing on a sheet of ice that flowed upon a river. Riv tried hard to keep her emotions from her face, the sense that she should not have heard this revelation heavy upon her.\n\nI must not give the Ben-Elim another reason to want me dead.\n\n\"But we are not Elyon, we are not divine,\" Kol said, staring up at the thousands of Ben-Elim gazing down at him. \"We wrote the Lore intending it to be a guide for mankind, and away of pleasing our Maker, when he returns. But perhaps on this one Lore, we were wrong. I ask you all, is it worth ruining our relationship with Elyon's creation, worth division with them, perhaps even a war with them? I ask you, is it worth losing all else we have gained in this land of flesh? Let this one Lore go, and let us move on with mankind. Let me lead you, name me your Lord Protector and I shall lead us through this. Anew order fora new world. It will make us stronger; it will make us more able to destroy the Kadoshim, our eternal foe.\"\n\nA silence, then one Ben-Elim stood.\n\nAnd then another, and another, and then the whole chamber seemed to shift, a wave of mail and wings as thousands of Ben-Elim rose to their feet.\n\nKol leaned over and gripped Kamael's hand, helping him to his feet.\n\n\"Be my friend, Kamael,\" Kol whispered, low enough that only Riv could hear, \"or you shall be my enemy.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Kamael cradled his broken wrist, looking at Riv and then around the chamber. He slowly nodded. \"The Moot has spoken,\" he said, then spread his wings and flew back to the tiers.\n\n\"Well, I'm glad that's over with,\" Kol whispered to Riv through a beatific smile, even as he raised a hand in thanks, cheers of acclamation echoing from the Ben-Elim. \"Now we must fly for Dun Seren. Time to tell the good news to Ethlinn, Balur One-Eye and the damned Order of the Bright Star.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Drem stood open-mouthed and looked up.\n\n\"Well met, One-Eye,\" Keld said to the giant, who towered over them.\n\nThey had just crossed the ridge of a shallow slope and stood on a plateau that abruptly gave way to a sheer drop, the sound of a river far below. Balur was leaning against the wall of a wide bridge that spanned the drop. Beside him another giant sat upon the ground, passing a whetstone across the edge of along-hafted axe. This giant was black-haired, the sides of his head shaved to stubble, the hair on the top of his headlong and woven into a thick warrior braid. Another axe, like the one across his lap, was slung over his shoulder. But Drem's eyes were irresistibly drawn to Balur One-Eye.\n\nBalur One-Eye.\n\nThousands of years old, the tales tell, one of those that drank from the Starstone Cup, giving them long life and strength. Not that he looks as if he needed anymore strength. Though he does look old.\n\nBalur's face was a map of scars and ridges, skin puckered around one empty socket, his hair white as milk and tied into a thick warrior braid. His long, drooping moustache was bound with leather cord. But Drem could seethe knots and slabs of muscle that bunched beneath Balur's clothes. Even beneath layers of wool, leather and fur, Balur's musculature was formidable. His legs were wider than some trees Drem had seen. Tattoos of thorn and vine coiled around his thick forearms, disappearing beneath leather vambraces and fur-edged sleeves of linen. A war-hammer was slung over the giant's shoulder.\n\n\"Stepor found you, then,\" Balur One-Eye rumbled."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Flick found them,\" Rab the crow squawked. He was perched on Cullen's shoulder.\n\n\"Aye, that's the truth of it,\" Stepor said.\n\n\"Well met, Balur One-Eye,\" Cullen said, swaggering up to the giant.\n\n\"Well met, little Cullen,\" Balur replied, the edge of a smile touching his lips. \"I am glad to see your hubris has not put you in a cairn yet.\"\n\n\"No one out there capable of doing that,\" Cullen replied with a grin.\n\nBalur looked at the dark-haired giant. \"You see what I mean?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" grunted the giant, not breaking a stroke of his axe-sharpening.\n\nHammer crested the ridge behind them, and the dark-haired giant rose, slinging his axe across his back and calling out to her.\n\n\"Ach, it is a sore sight, seeing that bear's back riderless. Sig, how could you fall?\" Balur's face twisted in grief, shifting to a glowering anger. \"Sig, I will avenge you,\" he growled.\n\nThen the white bear appeared behind Hammer. He saw the giants and stopped, though Hammer lumbered down to them, the dark-haired giant striding to her and wrapping one of his thick-muscled arms around her neck, laying his head against the bear and murmuring quietly.\n\nBalur looked at the white bear, then at Stepor and Keld, and raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"Don't look at me,\" Stepor said. \"This lot have been making friends in the wilderness.\"\n\n\"Found him being set upon by a brood of white wyrms,\" Keld said. \"We helped him out a little, and since then he's taken a liking to us.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Help to continue the narrative for the writer.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\\nAuthor: John Gwynne\\nTitle: A Time of Blood\\nChapter: 26\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Erdene was seated in a high-backed chair close to the fire, her first-sword Yul behind her, a table at her side with jug and cups.\\n\\nKol was standing before Erdene, Lorina atone shoulder, Riv at the other. Bleda's step faltered at the sight of her.\\n\\nRiv looked at Bleda as he approached, her face mottled with bruises and cuts from her fight in the weapons-field.\\n\\nShe smiled on seeing him.\\n\\nHe felt something shift in his belly at that, like the fluttering of a moth's wings, and at the same time he was painfully aware of his mother's gaze upon him. With an effort he kept his face emotionless, saw Riv's smile wither and fade.\\n\\nHe stopped a few paces from his mother and dropped to one knee before her, his head bowed. He heard the scuff of Ellac and Ruga's knees scraping the stone floor behind him.\\n\\nA silence.\\n\\n\\\"Rise,\\\" his mother grunted, and the three of them stood before her. She looked older, deep lines in her brown-weathered face, a white scar standing stark across her shaved head. Her warrior braid was curled across one shoulder like an iron-grey serpent.\\n\\nShe studied Bleda with her dark eyes, then stood and held her arm out, offering him the warrior grip.\\n\\nHe stood as still as stone, frozen with surprise, then reached out and took the offered embrace, felt the corded muscle of her arm through her wool deel. Inside, his heart was soaring.\\n\\nShe recognizes meas a warrior, no longer a child. He wanted to laugh and dance, to lift his mother up and spin and squeeze her.\\n\\nInstead he stared at her, his face an emotionless mask.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Erdene released his arm and nodded a greeting to Ellac.\\n\\n\\\"The moons since I last laid eyes upon you have treated you well,\\\" Erdene said, looking Bleda up and down. She prodded his belly. \\\"Though a little too well, perhaps.\\\"\\n\\nBleda blinked at that. He prided himself on his fitness. He trained with his honour guard each morning, where Ellac put him through his paces, and through his pouring sweat and pounding heart Bleda had regularly cursed the old man for having no heart or compassion. And then after a meal break and his lessons Bleda trained in the weapons-field each afternoon, learning Drassil's many varied military disciplines. He didn't think there was an ounce of fat on his body, but he wasn't going to point that out to his mother.\\n\\nHe looked down at her bony finger poking his belly, felt it digging into the washboard-hard ridges of his abdominal muscles.\\n\\nA moment's thought. Is my mother making a joke?\\n\\n\\\"I will watch you train in the weapons-field, and make sure that life here is not too soft fora Sirak prince,\\\" Erdene said.\\n\\nKol smiled. \\\"You will not be disappointed,\\\" he said. \\\"Bleda excels in the field at most disciplines. His body and mind are strong. Honed. As is his aim.\\\" Kol didn't smile at the last remark.\\n\\n\\\"I will be the judge of that,\\\" Erdene said. \\\"So-\\\" she looked at Kol-\\\"much has changed here, since my last visit.\\\" Her gaze moved pointedly to Riv.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, betrayal and tragedy has struck us, with the death of Israfil,\\\" Kol said. \\\"But the light behind the clouds is that we are moving into anew age. A more tolerant age, which should bode well for all peoples in the Banished Lands, the Sirak included.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Erdene looked at Riv, her thick musculature, her wings, her bruises and scars.\\n\\n\\\"Tolerant? I suppose she is still breathing,\\\" Erdene said. \\\"Your Lore spoke of abomination and execution where half-breeds are concerned, I am told.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Riv is no abomination,\\\" a voice said. When Bleda saw that all were staring at him he realized it had been his voice.\\n\\nA flicker of something across his mother's face, too fast to read.\\n\\n\\\"I am not an abomination,\\\" Riv growled, \\\"and any who wish to execute me-\\\" she looked at them all, slowly, one by one, then gave a shrug of her muscled shoulders-\\\"I say, let them try.\\\"\\n\\nSo fierce. So much against her, and yet she would fight the world, if she had to.\\n\\n\\\"It looks like some have already tried,\\\" Erdene said.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, they have. And yet here I stand,\\\" Riv said, a vicious smile cutting her face.\\n\\nKol threw his head back and laughed.\\n\\n\\\"Riv is a fierce one, and no denying,\\\" Kol said, still chuckling. He reached for the jug on the table and poured them all a cup of wine, taking along draught from his own cup, draining it and then pouring himself another.\\n\\n\\\"But these are fierce times, and fierce is what I need; the Kadoshim are moving throughout the Banished Lands, have attacked Drassil itself, though they were taught the error of that.\\\"\\n\\nBleda remembered that all too well: the Kadoshim attacking the Great Hall, attempting to free Asroth from his gaol of iron. Bleda had even played apart infighting them off, had slain some of their Feral beast-men. It had showed him that no matter what he thought of the Ben-Elim, the Kadoshim were worse. An evil that could not be negotiated with.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We must talk of strategy,\\\" Kol said, \\\"of how to work together to best defeat their scheming.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Erdene said. \\\"I have heard much of the Kadoshim. Of bonfire signals, of human sacrifice, entire towns slaughtered. But, is it not the Lord Protector with whom I should be talking about this matter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am the Lord Protector,\\\" Kol said. \\\"To all intents. It is just a formality to proclaim me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Really?\\\" Erdene said. \\\"I have heard that Sariel sees things differently.\\\"\\n\\nA flicker of malice twisted Kol's face, replaced in a heartbeat with his sardonic smile.\\n\\n\\\"Trust me, Sariel is of no matter,\\\" he replied, taking another long sip from his cup. \\\"Now, enough of abominations and executions and fighting to the death, and onto happier matters. Your arrival was timely-and I thank you for your tithe of flesh. We are lacking in range troops at an elite level, and your contribution will be perfect to redress that balance, along with Uldin's tithe of flesh from the Cheren Clan.\\\" He paused for another drink.\\n\\n\\\"I had already sent messengers to bid you join us at Drassil,\\\" Kol continued, \\\"and Uldin of the Cheren. My messengers must have reached Arcona by now and delivered the message to him. But I was not requesting you to speed your tithe to us here at Drassil, I was asking you to join us for altogether another reason.\\\" Kol's smile drifted to Bleda, giving him a bad feeling in his belly.\\n\\n\\\"I see no reason to delay our plans for unifying the peoples of this Land of the Faithful. Bleda and Jin will be married upon Midsummer's Day.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Bleda strode along Drassil's streets.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was cold and dark, torchlight flickering from shuttered windows around him. He was walking from the meeting with Kol and his mother, where he had spent as long as it took fora candle to burn from wick to stump as he had listened to the myriad details that went into planning his own handbinding.\\n\\nPlanning how I will be packaged and sold to seal a covenant between my people and the Ben-Elim, as if I were a prize bull at market.\\n\\nHe sucked in along breath and blew it out slowly, trying to control his sense of unease about it all.\\n\\nIt is my duty to serve my Clan, to protect them. Wedding Jin will put generations of blood-feud behind the Sirak and Cheren.\\n\\n\\\"Life is complicated,\\\" he breathed, to himself or Ruga, he was not sure.\\n\\nRuga strode along half a step behind him. She wore a cloak against the cold, though she'd pushed the hood back, her eyes always moving.\\n\\n\\\"For you, Lord,\\\" she agreed. \\\"Not for me. I serve my Queen, my Prince, my Clan. I eat, sleep, fight.\\\" She shrugged.\\n\\nBleda wanted to smile at that, felt jealous of the simplicity of her life.\\n\\nA muffled shout drifted down to them from above, and in a second Ruga had her bow in her hand, an arrow nocked. Bleda rested his hand on his bow in its case, staring up into the darkness.\\n\\nClouds masked the stars, the moon a silver sheen that gave little light. Either side of Bleda, buildings towered, most of them empty, here and there the flicker of firelight behind shuttered windows. They were in a section of the fortress used as barracks for new arrivals to Drassil, which was why Bleda was here-his mother was housed in the same quarter.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Another shout, almost directly above, a stirring of air, more like turbulence than wind. Unnatural, somehow.\\n\\nSomething dropped from the sky, a clang as it bounced and sparked on flagstones. Bleda ran to the object and picked it up. It was round, glinting in the wan light. A silver torc with two serpents' heads. Parts of it were coated in something black and sticky. Bleda touched it.\\n\\n\\\"Blood,\\\" he whispered to Ruga, who was scanning the coal-black above.\\n\\nThere were no more sounds, no sense of any kind of presence. Bleda slipped the torc into his cloak, both of them still looking up. Then something materialized out of the darkness, pale and floating. A large white feather drifted down between them and landed at Bleda's feet.\\n\\nIt had blood on it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Drem blinked sweat from his eyes and stumbled over a rock. He was trying to keep Flick insight, without breaking his ankle or neck on the loose terrain.\\n\\nAnd that crow sets quite apace.\\n\\nThey had followed Flick south and east into the Desolation, four days of almost constant movement, ever using the gullies and ravines that twisted through the land like the desiccated veins of a corpse.\\n\\nFlick was swooping back to them, low over their heads.\\n\\n\\\"Wait here, wait here,\\\" the huge crow squawked, \\\"Flick find Stepor.\\\"\\n\\nDrem turned to watch Flick pass over them all, the white bear far to the rear of their column raising its head and rumbling at the crow. Flick ignored it and banked into a half-circle, disappearing up and over the edge of the ravine they had been following since dawn.\\n\\nDrem looked to the north-west, eyes searching the skies. There was still no sign of Morn's bat-like silhouette. Drem had seen no evidence of the half-breed since the day they had fought the wyrms, almost a ten-night ago.\\n\\nDoesn't mean she's not up there, though, Drem thought. He felt more vulnerable now that Flick was gone, especially down herein a ravine, noway of knowing if enemies prowled above them, just beyond the ravine's edge.\\n\\nA bad spot for an ambush.\\n\\nIn the distance, the white-topped peaks of the Bonefells reared like jagged teeth along the horizon, making Drem realize how far south they had come. The weather had changed, the snow clouds disappearing, the ground underfoot free from snow, and the temperature had risen.\\n\\nA handful of days had passed since Drem had woken and not had to crack ice from his beard.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"We are leaving winter behind us.\\n\\nHe twisted his head, squinting into the distance as something drew his eye. A flicker of movement, a speck in the sky. Drem blinked, straining to see better, but whatever it was had gone, if there had been anything there. Absently, his hand reached to take his pulse.\\n\\n\\\"Stepor must be close, then,\\\" Cullen said.\\n\\n\\\"Must be,\\\" Keld said. The huntsman seemed to have fully recovered from his injuries, though Fen still walked with a limping gait at Keld's side. Drem suspected that would never leave the wolven-hound.\\n\\n\\\"Good old Rab,\\\" Cullen said. \\\"I knew he wouldn't let us down.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He's a good bird,\\\" Keld nodded.\\n\\nDrem walked back to Hammer and checked on her injuries, the bear lowering her head to give him an affectionate nudge with her muzzle. He was pleased to see she was mending well, all her wounds healing, scabs thick, some of them already peeling to reveal white scars underneath.\\n\\nHer fur will never grow back there, Drem thought. \\\"A record of your courage and loyalty,\\\" Drem murmured as he stroked a scar along Hammer's muzzle.\\n\\nHe looked at the white bear. It was thirty or forty paces behind Hammer and had sat down with a rumbling sigh. It was still following them, or following Hammer, seeming quite happy to shamble along with them, though sometimes it would fall behind as it paused to rest. Its wounds had taken their toll. They were far worse than Hammer's, and each night Drem, Keld and Cullen had tried to change its dressings. They had not been entirely successful, the bear growling, curling his lip to reveal teeth as long as Drem's seax. Atone point Hammer had intervened and swatted the white bear with a paw, and although the white bear was significantly bigger than Hammer, he had acquiesced to her reprimand, bowing his head and rumbling quietly in his belly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But then Drem had discovered the trick to approaching the white bear safely. He reached into his pack and pulled out a clay jar, un-stoppering it and pouring some of its contents into his hand.\\n\\nHoney.\\n\\n\\\"Here you go, lad,\\\" Drem said as he approached the white bear, holding his handout.\\n\\nThe white bear lifted his head and took a great sniff, then heaved his bulk from the ground and ambled towards Drem, who waited patiently.\\n\\nThe bear licked Drem's hand with a huge, sandpaper-rough tongue, lapping the honey from his palm and all the while making contented snuffling, grumbling sounds. With his other hand Drem patted the bear's cheek and dug deep into the animal's thick fur to scratch his neck.\\n\\nWhen the bear had licked every last fraction of honey from Drem's hand, leaving it drenched and dripping with saliva, Drem flicked globs of spittle from his hand and scooped some more honey from his jar, spreading it over a rock.\\n\\nThe bear set to licking that clean and Drem checked on his wounds, used his water skin to wash them out, then applied fresh poultices of yarrow and comfrey. They were improving but were not yet as healed as Hammer's.\\n\\n\\\"We are all slaves to our bellies,\\\" Cullen said from behind Drem. He was leaning against a boulder with his arms folded across his chest.\\n\\n\\\"Speak for yourself,\\\" Keld grunted as he clambered up onto the boulder, allowing him to see a little further into the distance.\\n\\nTwo specks were in the sky, a black smudge and a pale one, growing quickly larger, swooping down into the ravine.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Stepor coming,\\\" Flick squawked, over and over.\\n\\n\\\"Rab!\\\" Cullen called out happily as the white smudge materialized into their friend and spiralled down to them.\\n\\n\\\"Friends, friends, friends,\\\" Rab cawed as he alighted upon Cullen's outstretched arm.\\n\\nFlick landed on the boulder beside Keld and set to grooming his feathers on one wing, all the while a beady eye watching Rab.\\n\\n\\\"You did it, Rab,\\\" Cullen said. \\\"You brought help.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rab did, Rab did,\\\" the white crow squawked, hopping up and down from one claw to the other in his excitement. \\\"Told Byrne Rab's friends need help.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah, but you're a good friend to us, Rab, and no denying,\\\" Cullen said, grinning as he scratched the bird's chest.\\n\\n\\\"Flick found you,\\\" Flick reminded them from his boulder, shaking to ruffle his feathers up.\\n\\nDo crows sulk? Drem wondered.\\n\\n\\\"Flick clever, Flick brave,\\\" Rab cawed, bobbing his head.\\n\\n\\\"And we're grateful to you, Flick,\\\" Cullen said.\\n\\n\\\"Welcome,\\\" Flick croaked.\\n\\nFen stood and sniffed the air, eyes fixed on the shadows in the ravine.\\n\\nAnd then there were shapes appearing, two four-legged shadows flitting amongst boulders and twisted hawthorn, another figure forming behind them. A dark-haired man dressed simply in leather and fur, the only hint of ornamentation the silver-starred brooch that pinned his cloak. He had a scarred, honest face above a snarl of black beard as thick and wild as the hawthorns in the ravine, his body lean, like Keld's, honed by the wilderness.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The huntsmen of Dun Seren all look like trappers.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But with more weapons.\\n\\nAxes and knives bristled from various belts strapped around his body, more hilts poking from his boots.\\n\\n\\\"Well met, Keld,\\\" the dark-haired man said as Keld climbed from his perch atop the boulder and strode to him.\\n\\n\\\"Well met, Stepor,\\\" Keld said, gripping Stepor's forearm in the warrior grip.\\n\\n\\\"What took you?\\\" Cullen said as he strolled over.\\n\\n\\\"The Desolation's a big place,\\\" Stepor grunted at Cullen, giving him a dark look from beneath bushy brows, but he took the young warrior's arm all the same.\\n\\n\\\"Well, better late than never,\\\" Cullen said, grinning.\\n\\n\\\"Late! Well, if you hadn't gone and got yourself lost in the arse-end of the world, in winter...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm only jesting with you.\\\" Cullen grinned, holding his hands up. \\\"Ach, but it's good to see a slice of home, is it not, Keld?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye, that it is,\\\" Keld said. He was crouching, two enormous wolven-hounds sniffing and licking him. One was crow-black with a splash of white on one paw, the other was as red as rust. With a growl, Fen pushed in, reminding them who Keld belonged to.\\n\\n\\\"No need for jealousy, lad. You know Grack and Ralla, and we're all on the same side here,\\\" Keld said, tugging on one of Fen's ears.\\n\\n\\\"And you must be Drem,\\\" Stepor said.\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Drem said.\\n\\nStepor strode to him, offering an arm. \\\"Well met.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Drem took Stepor's arm. \\\"Well met,\\\" he said.\\n\\nStepor looked Drem up and down. He was shorter than Drem, most men were, but Drem still felt like a child being inspected. He resisted the urge to look away and forced himself to meet Stepor's gaze. He'd never liked to be stared at, but his father had told him it was important to meet another man's eye, and so Drem had trained himself to do it.\\n\\n\\\"I can see your mother in you,\\\" Stepor said.\\n\\nMy mother.\\n\\nIt felt strange that others had known her, when Drem remembered so little of her. Her voice, her laugh, but so much else had faded.\\n\\n\\\"Hope you can fight like her, too, if half of what Rab's told us is true,\\\" Stepor said.\\n\\n\\\"Rab tell truth,\\\" the white crow squawked.\\n\\n\\\"Gulla in the north, acolytes, Feral men. Revenants,\\\" Stepor said, part statement, part question.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, it's all true, and more,\\\" Keld said. \\\"It's the time we've been waiting for. And Gunil stood with Gulla.\\\"\\n\\nStepor blew out along whistle. \\\"That's not going to go down well with old One-Eye.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's along walk from Drassil to the Desolation,\\\" Keld said.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, it would be, if Balur One-Eye was at Drassil,\\\" Stepor said. \\\"But he's not. He's about half a league to the south, helping us look for you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Balur One-Eye,\\\" breathed Drem. It was as if heroes of myth were coming to life. Warriors of the Bright Star, giants...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You'll meet him soon enough,\\\" Stepor said, glancing up at the sky and the sun. \\\"If we ever stop talking and start walking.\\\" He looked at Hammer. \\\"Sig,\\\" he said, looking from Keld to Cullen, grief washing all of their faces. \\\"I grieve for your loss,\\\" he said to them all. \\\"For all our loss, but you were her crew, were closer to her than any other, except maybe Byrne. Sig was one of the greatest amongst us. Gave me more than a few bruises in her time, but each one taught me something.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye. Move faster, duck quicker, or better still, just drop your weapon and walkaway from Sig,\\\" Cullen said, a faint smile on his face, a tear in his eye.\\n\\n\\\"Ha,\\\" Stepor barked a laugh. \\\"True enough. Not that you ever walked away, young Cullen. I've seen some of the lessons that Sig taught you.\\\" He winked at Keld.\\n\\n\\\"Never have learned to walkaway,\\\" Cullen admitted.\\n\\n\\\"There's much to talk on,\\\" Stepor said, \\\"including your new travelling companion.\\\" He raised an eyebrow and nodded at the white bear. \\\"But let's move out and set you on the path for home.\\\"\\n\\nHome? Dun Seren. I was born there, and yet I barely remember it.\\n\\nDrem drew in a deep breath and shouldered his pack.\\n\\n\\\"Flick, watch our backs while Rab leads us home,\\\" Stepor said, and with that they were moving out. Rab and Flick flapped into the sky, Fen, Grack and Ralla loping ahead and slipping into the shadows, Stepor setting a brisk pace, with Hammer and the white bear shambling after them.\\n\\nGoing home? If Dun Seren is my home, it is only because something of my mother and father abides there, Drem thought. And, he reminded himself, looking over his shoulder at the sky behind:\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"We are not safe yet.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv ducked a sword-swing, felt the air of it whistle over her head, stepped under Kol's arm and inside his guard, close enough to smell his sweat, and stabbed at his belly.\\n\\nWith a burst of speed she would not have thought possible, he somehow moved, twisting out of the way of her strike, swirling around her in a blur of white wings, and then his sword was resting on the back of her neck.\\n\\n\\\"You're dead,\\\" he said calmly.\\n\\nRiv snarled, a spasm of frustration racking her body. It was not the first time she'd heard that phrase today.\\n\\nKol stepped away, a smirk edging his lips; other Ben-Elim were behind him. Amongst them Riv saw Hadran, who had become her permanent guard. A dark bruise stained his eye and forehead from the fight in the field.\\n\\nRiv took a few paces and deep breaths to calm her simmering anger. They were back in the weapons-field. It looked different from the last time she'd seen it, with bodies wrapped in combat, or sprawled across the ground. Looking back on it, much seemed to have changed since then, when so many had stood for her, even crowds of traders and other ordinary citizens rushing in from beyond the field to defend her.\\n\\nOr maybe they all just like a good scrap.\\n\\nEven if there was some truth in that, Riv knew there was more to it. Ever since then, people had treated her differently, walking and talking with her in the street, sitting and eating with her in the feast-hall, treating her more like a wonder than a monstrosity.\\n\\nThere were still the dark looks, the glares and twisted mouths, but they seemed to be in the minority, and Riv found herself caring less.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Aphra had said to her that it was because she had not killed Sorch.\\n\\n\\\"You showed mercy,\\\" Aphra had said.\\n\\n\\\"Think,\\\" Kol was saying. \\\"You have anew weapon now, you must learn to use it.\\\"\\n\\nHe was talking about Riv's wings. That was what this whole training session was about, helping Riv to adjust to her wings, and to learn how to use them in combat. She thought she had, but sparring against Kol made her realize how much more there was to learn.\\n\\n\\\"There are strengths and weaknesses to having wings,\\\" Kol continued, pacing around Riv. \\\"The main weakness is that we area bigger target; there is more of us to hit, and therefore injure. Also, our wings are vulnerable, they cannot be armoured or protected, so you must always be mindful of that. And for you, you must remember that you will not fit through spaces as you used to, that your wings are wider and taller than you, and you are wide enough already.\\\"\\n\\nRiv was already learning that, had discovered that sitting in chairs was difficult, and that some doorways were not wide enough for her, though fortunately Drassil had been built by giants for giants, so that was rare.\\n\\n\\\"The great strengths of wings in combat is speed and directional change,\\\" Kol continued.\\n\\nI think you just demonstrated that, Riv thought glumly.\\n\\n\\\"I can see you are judging my capabilities by your own ability, your own concept of speed and movement, and that of humankind,\\\" Kol said. \\\"You stabbed where you expected me to be. You must make allowances for that, and in time it will become automatic. You know most combat is too fast for thought, it is set reactions, drilled into us. So, you must drill hard, because the Kadoshim areas fast as us Ben-Elim, and you are going to be fighting Kadoshim.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Best way to learn is to do,\\\" Riv growled, and attacked Kol, pulsing her wings to speed her cut at Kol's chest, a diagonal sweep that caught his hip as he swayed right. Riv grinned and followed with a stab and slash at his belly and thigh, Kol stumbling backwards, but just when Riv thought she had him, Kol was gone, the grass swirling from the beating of his wings and his feet disappearing over Riv's head. She stabbed up and missed, glimpsed Kol looping over her, alighting behind her.\\n\\nWith a snarl, Riv leaped into the air, her wings powering her up, out of Kol's range, twisting to turn and face him, slashing down at his head. Kol blocked the blow and then he was in the air, too, both of them spiralling higher, swirling around each other, the crack of their practice swords a rapid discordant beat.\\n\\nRiv swept in close, stabbed at Kol's chest. His wings folded in tight and he just seemed to drop from the sky, her blade stabbing fresh air, then his wings were extending and he was cutting at her legs, striking her ankle and calf, rising up behind her to stab her in the back.\\n\\nRiv resisted the urge to leap at him, cling onto him and batter him with her fists. Instead she took a shuddering breath and flew a few wingbeats out of range, calming herself, thinking about the technical lessons being taught here.\\n\\nIt's about fluid motion, about speed, and using that speed to attack the flanks, striking from unexpected angles. The unseen blow is what ends the fight.\\n\\nShe gritted her teeth for another attack.\\n\\n\\\"Enough,\\\" Kol said, raising a hand. He was hovering in the air, wings beating lazily as he looked down at the weapons-field. Riv followed his gaze and saw that Erdene had ridden into the field with a large entourage behind her, making for the archery range. She saw Bleda riding at Erdene's side. He was staring up at her, and fora moment Riv remembered how she had smiled at him when he had arrived at the meeting with Erdene. She had felt like a fool, and something else, as if some bright, fragile thing within her had withered when she got no response from him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But he spoke out for me, when Erdene said I am an abomination.\\n\\nShe rolled her shoulders to ease the ache from hovering in the sky as emotions broiled in her gut.\\n\\n\\\"I must talk with Erdene,\\\" Kol said. \\\"Do not stray far, I must have you at my side in the Ben-Elim Moot.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Huh,\\\" Riv grunted at Kol's back as he tucked his wings in and dived down towards Erdene.\\n\\nRiv was not looking forward to the Ben-Elim gathering, where once again she would be the topic of discussion. Although Kol clearly had a large proportion of Ben-Elim loyal to him, it was mostly other Ben-Elim that seemed to be struggling with her existence.\\n\\nShe scanned the field, saw Aphra drilling her shield wall, five hundred strong now. They were being broken up into five units of a hundred each, then training on the manoeuvres to merge and then split again.\\n\\nI miss the shield wall. Having wings is... lonely.\\n\\nRiv's eyes drifted back to Kol. He was standing beside Erdene now, though she seemed far more intent on watching Bleda ride the archery range. He was trotting onto the greensward, a gauntlet of land flanked on either side by two rows of straw targets. This was anew addition to the weapons-field, designed and erected after Bleda and Jin's honour guards had arrived, specifically for them to train and drill in their traditional ways. Riv had been stunned by their skill, both as horsemen and archers.\\n\\nBleda sat relaxed and easy upon his horse, moving fluidly from a trot into a canter and then a gallop, guiding his mount with his knees while he pulled a fistful of arrows from his quiver. He held them in his left hand that gripped his bow, leaning into his high-fronted saddle, and in a blur he was drawing and loosing, straw men jolting and shuddering with the impact of his arrows.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv glided down, wings spread wide, watching as Bleda reached the end of the gauntlet, her admiration for his skill temporarily outweighing her shifting emotions. As Bleda left the range and curled round to return to his mother, two more riders entered the greensward, a man and woman, and in heartbeats their mounts were galloping, both of them leaning and loosing arrows, one to each side of the gauntlet. One target spun and pitched to the ground, the twine tying it to its pole snapping with the power of the shot.\\n\\nRiv flew down to Bleda, who was trotting now, and she matched her speed to his. Kol and Erdene were about a hundred paces away, deep in conversation.\\n\\n\\\"Fine shooting,\\\" she said.\\n\\nBleda shrugged, an acknowledgement.\\n\\n\\\"I saw you sparring in the sky,\\\" Bleda said.\\n\\n\\\"Kol is teaching me how to use my wings,\\\" Riv answered.\\n\\n\\\"You use them well enough,\\\" Bleda said. \\\"Back in the glade, you put Kol down.\\\"\\n\\nI wish we were back there still, that we could leave all of this behind. I felt... happy there, with you.\\n\\nThat is not real, now, Riv scolded herself. Live in the now, not the what-might-have-been.\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Riv nodded, \\\"but I didn't win.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"True enough.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And most of that was blind rage and luck.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rage, yes.\\\" Bleda nodded. \\\"Luck, no.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I had good people at my side, watching my back.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Bleda agreed again, \\\"but you fought Kol alone.\\\" He looked up at Riv and met her gaze, his dark eyes sad and full of emotion, even though his face did not shift or change even a fraction. Fora moment Riv felt the world fade and she was sitting back on the roadside in Forn with Bleda, laughing and giving him a flower of mountain thyme.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bleda reined in his horse.\\n\\nRiv alighted beside him.\\n\\n\\\"Why are we here?\\\" Bleda said, quietly. He looked around, eyes settling on Kol.\\n\\nBecause it was the only way to stop Kol from executing you. The only way for us to live without spending our lives-most likely our very short lives-being hunted to the ends of the earth.\\n\\n\\\"It was the wise thing to do,\\\" Riv said.\\n\\n\\\"Wise? You area lot of things, Riv, but I would not have counted wise as one of them.\\\" Bleda's mouth twitched, a moment of shock and humour before his cold-face locked back into place.\\n\\nRiv grinned at him. \\\"I can be wise, sometimes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Betrothed,\\\" a voice called out.\\n\\n\\\"See what your wisdom has done tome,\\\" Bleda whispered.\\n\\nRiv looked up to see Jin walking to the archery range, a score of her honour guard at her shoulders. She started to veer towards Bleda, but Queen Erdene called to her.\\n\\nWith a sigh, Bleda clicked his horse on and Riv walked beside him.\\n\\n\\\"Why did you try to kill Sorch?\\\" Riv asked him.\\n\\n\\\"Ah. I did not try to kill him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you telling me you aimed for his leg?\\\" That thought had not crossed Riv's mind.\\n\\n\\\"Of course! You think I would miss if I wanted to kill him?\\\"\\n\\nRiv shrugged. \\\"It was a hard shot.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not miss.\\\" Bleda snorted. \\\"If I had wanted to kill him, he would be dead.\\\"\\n\\nRiv remembered watching Bleda a few moments ago, at the gallop and still putting his arrows in hearts and eyes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So why did you shoot him in the leg?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To distract you. You were strangling him. I thought you were going to choke the life from him, right therein the sky, in front of a whole field of people. It would hardly have ingratiated you to the folk of Drassil.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So, you tried to distract me by shooting Sorch in the leg?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nRiv roared her laughter, wiped tears from her eyes when she regained some control. \\\"That was thoughtful of you.\\\" She chuckled.\\n\\n\\\"I must confess, I may have enjoyed it a little,\\\" Bleda said, which set Riv to laughing again.\\n\\nJin stared at them with cold eyes, though Erdene was talking to her.\\n\\n\\\"This fighting in the sky,\\\" Bleda said, \\\"it strikes me that you are limited. You still have to be close to kill. You are missing a great opportunity.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What's that?\\\" Riv asked.\\n\\n\\\"You should wield ranged weapons. The bow, javelins. You would be death from above. And you should carry a shield.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In case Jin wanted to shoot you from the sky.\\\"\\n\\nThat was a sobering thought. Riv had seen Jin's skill with a bow, and also the way the Cheren Princess looked at her.\\n\\n\\\"I'm not good enough with a bow,\\\" Riv said. It washer worst weapon. Sword, spear, knife she felt she could match most people, but with a bow...\\n\\n\\\"You could get better,\\\" Bleda said. \\\"And you haven't used the right bow. You couldn't take one of those logs in the air with you.\\\" He nodded towards some of Drassil's huntsmen and scouts practising on the range. \\\"You would need a Sirak bow, they are more suited to motion, to fighting whilst moving. They are smaller, easier to draw and with a greater range.\\\" He halted his horse again and lifted his bow from its case at his hip, his touch loving. He paused a moment, then offered it to Riv.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She was used to it, had looked after Bleda's bow secretly for over five years, and had regularly tended to it, but somehow, with Bleda offering the bow to her now, it felt different. She reached out and took it, almost reverently. The bow was light, much lighter than the bows of yew and ash and elm that Drassil's huntsmen used, and it was balanced differently. She turned it in her hand, saw the layers of wood and horn and sinew.\\n\\nHow do you ever make something like this?\\n\\nRiv took the bowstring and began to draw.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Bleda said, shaking his head. \\\"Never draw without an arrow nocked.\\\"\\n\\nRiv just shrugged and released the string.\\n\\nWhat Bleda was saying did make sense. Of course, there was a great advantage to being airborne in battle, but how much greater would that advantage be if you could strike at your enemy but they could not strike at you.\\n\\nAnd the Kadoshim-it could be used against them, too.\\n\\n\\\"Where would I get one of these?\\\" Riv asked.\\n\\nBleda shrugged. \\\"I'll see what I can do.\\\"\\n\\nThey were approaching Erdene and Kol now, Jin talking with them, too.\\n\\nBleda slipped gracefully from his saddle, one of his honour guard stepping forwards to take his reins-a dark-haired woman with a limp. Riv recognized her as one of Bleda's guards who had been at the cabin, so she nodded a greeting.\\n\\nThe warrior nodded in return, her eyes drifting to Bleda's bow in Riv's hand.\\n\\n\\\"Come, try it now,\\\" Bleda said, leading Riv to the toe-mark fora target on the range. A straw man about seventy or eighty paces away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Nice and close to start with,\\\" Bleda said.\\n\\nRiv snorted, thinking he was joking, then saw from his face that he was not.\\n\\n\\\"Here,\\\" Bleda said, offering her arrows from his belted quiver.\\n\\nRiv took one.\\n\\n\\\"No, three or four, like this,\\\" Bleda said, grabbing a fistful and threading them through his fingers, showing Riv how to hold them and the bow at the same time. \\\"Time is the key to success, so why waste time reaching to draw one arrow at a time?\\\"\\n\\nFair point.\\n\\nClumsily, Riv took one from her left hand and nocked it, started to draw.\\n\\n\\\"Wait,\\\" Bleda said. \\\"See your target first. Imagine your arrow sinking deep. Think about the range, the poundage of the bow, the wind, balance it all in your mind first. Never take your eye from the target, even as you draw, and aim as you draw. Do not pause at the end of the draw. One motion, draw and release. Draw and release.\\\"\\n\\nRiv took a moment to think about all of that.\\n\\nIt's like the draw-attack from a scabbard, she thought. So many elements in one move, yet all of them made to look effortless. She took a deep breath, then nocked, drew and released, aiming a little high and to the right of her straw man's heart.\\n\\nIt hit him in the shoulder. Better than she would have done with a yew bow. The bow was remarkably smooth to draw, feeling much easier than one of Drassil's solid wood bows, and yet she had felt the power in the arrow as it had left the string, a rich thrum, and she'd known it would sink much deeper than from the bows she was used to using.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Again,\\\" Bleda said, \\\"but this time, draw and loose a second arrow without waiting to see where the first one lands.\\\"\\n\\nRiv did. A deep, calming breath, then nock, draw, release, a slight fumble to nock the next arrow, then draw and release. She lowered the bow, saw the third arrow sink deep into the straw man's thigh. The second was buried in its belly.\\n\\n\\\"It is a start,\\\" Bleda said, \\\"from which you can only get better.\\\"\\n\\nFor the first time she could remember, Riv was glad of Bleda's cold-face, knowing that he was probably disgusted with her efforts, but secretly Riv was just pleased to have not missed with any of the three arrows.\\n\\n\\\"I will teach you,\\\" Bleda declared.\\n\\n\\\"A big auroch like her cannot master the skills of a Cheren bow,\\\" a voice behind them said. Riv wheeled around to see Jin standing behind her.\\n\\n\\\"It's a Sirak bow,\\\" Riv growled.\\n\\n\\\"Cheren, Sirak, we will be one Clan, soon,\\\" Jin said with a shrug. \\\"Isn't that right, my betrothed.\\\" Her eyes stayed fixed on Riv.\\n\\nBleda grunted something unintelligible.\\n\\n\\\"Bleda, I have good news. Kol has just told me that my father is less than a ten-night from Drassil, come with much of my kin to celebrate our handbinding.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But Midsummer's Day is moons from now,\\\" Bleda said, a hint of emotion in his voice.\\n\\nPanic? Riv wanted it to be panic.\\n\\n\\\"There is much to organize,\\\" Jin said, her eyes still on Riv. And then Jin smiled at her, an expression that looked wholly alien on Jin's normally stony face.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Riv,\\\" a voice called, and Kol beat his wings and took to the air, hovering above them. \\\"Come, Riv, it is time for the Moot,\\\" Kol called down to her.\\n\\nRiv handed Bleda back his bow, then bent her legs and leaped into the air. She angled her wings and beat them harder than necessary to channel a blast of air at Jin, making her stumble back a step. Riv couldn't keep the grin from her face as she climbed into the sky, looking back once to see that Jin was talking animatedly to Bleda. Then Riv noticed someone staring at her, a fixed gaze that followed Riv through the sky as she flew after Kol.\\n\\nIt was Erdene, Queen of the Sirak.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha stood watching the two crows descend into the ravine. She was hiding in a stand of alder and beech that stood on a plateau above the ravine, Morn atone shoulder, Gunil at the other, her Ferals and Red Right Hand spread out behind her.\\n\\nFritha muttered a curse.\\n\\nCrows most likely meant the Order of the Bright Star were not far behind. She was tempted to rush them, knowing that Drem and his bedraggled companions were so close and unsuspecting of her presence.\\n\\n\\\"We should strike now,\\\" Morn whispered. \\\"They are so near.\\\"\\n\\nMorn had found them two days ago, returning to guide Fritha, but because of the wyrm, Fritha had not been able to move as fast as she'd have liked. Gunil had built the wyrm a cage, and two saplings had been cut down to make poles and a litter that they had tied to the girth and saddle of Gunil's bear, a makeshift travois that allowed them to continue tracking Drem and his companions. The weight of the sickly wyrm and its cage was not a problem to Claw, but the terrain was. Fritha had had to scout away that would not shake the cage to pieces, and so they were slower than Fritha had liked. She had thought about leaving the wyrm in its cage under guard, but it was so close to death that she had needed to spill her blood and chant her words of power twice since they had found the wyrm. If she left it, she knew it would die.\\n\\nIt would not take us long to reach that ravine; one burst of speed and we could be on them.\\n\\nBut it was open ground between this stand of trees and the ravine. If the Order of the Bright Star were close, she would be vulnerable. She knew her ability and that of her crew, knew they were deadly and dangerous.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But so are the warriors of the Order. I am no fool to risk a battle I might lose.\\n\\nAnd although Morn had been far wiser and not flown close, she had still been able to see and report to Fritha that even without any new additions from the Order of the Bright Star, there were still three men, the wolven-hound, and another bear down in the ravine.\\n\\nWherein the Otherworld did that come from? It must be one of the Order's battle bears, but where is its giant?\\n\\nDo I rush them?\\n\\nHer palm rested on the hilt of her short-sword. She was not afraid to use it, not afraid to fight. But she was afraid to lose, and to see her crew cut down.\\n\\nEleven Ferals. Ten of my Red Right Hand. Gunil and his bear, against three men, two bears and a wolven-hound. The odds are not so clear now, and that is without any of the Order of the Bright Star arriving. They must be close for their crows to be here. They could already be in the ravine with Drem.\\n\\nClaw rumbled a growl in the trees behind them.\\n\\n\\\"Keep him quiet,\\\" Fritha snapped as she balanced on the knife-edge of indecision. The bear growled again and Gunil strode back to him. She heard the giant swear.\\n\\nFritha shifted on her feet, felt her muscles tense and she gripped her sword hilt, ready to draw it.\\n\\nAnd then the two crows flapped out of the ravine, the white one heading south-east, away from them, while the black one rose higher into the sky, circling towards Fritha and her stand of trees.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Still,\\\" Fritha called to her people.\\n\\nClaw growled again, somehow sounding different from his usual one.\\n\\nI will go back there myself and kill that bear if it does not shut up.\\n\\n\\\"Fritha,\\\" Gunil called to her.\\n\\nSwearing under her breath, Fritha twisted on her heel and crept back into the stand of trees, a hundred or so paces and she saw the bulk of Claw. The wyrm cage was set behind him, unstrapped from its litter for the time being. The wyrm lay coiled and still within its bars.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Fritha hissed.\\n\\nGunil just looked at the ground.\\n\\nHe'd unstrapped a large panier from Claw and laid it on the ground, opened the lid. Inside was a chest, the draig egg packed carefully within it, tight with straw.\\n\\nThe egg was moving.\\n\\nA draig is hatching.\\n\\nFritha froze fora moment, excitement and fear and wonder sweeping through her, washing all else away. She forgot about Drem and the others, about the crow somewhere in the sky above her, about the Great War, about the Banished Lands.\\n\\nAnd then she was on her knees, gently lifting the egg from the chest, straw falling away, and she was placing it on the ground, building up a bank of woodland litter around it to keep it from tipping over.\\n\\nThe side of the shell moved, like when she had seen her baby stir in her belly, the imprint of a hand or foot.\\n\\nA crackling sound, and a line appeared in the rippling hues of the egg, as fine as a hair, growing, branching into tendrils, like the veins of a leaf. A shape pushed out from the egg, a pinprick hole materializing, growing rapidly bigger and thick, mucus-like fluid leaked from the hole.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A series of cracks, as if Fritha had stood on a cluster of snails, and suddenly a shard of the egg was splintering away, something dark pushing it out. An eye blinked at Fritha.\\n\\nShe tentatively reached out and pulled the splintered part away, gripped another piece, gently working it loose, her hands slippery with jelly-like slime.\\n\\nA flat muzzle appeared, the creature within the egg squirming and wriggling, its first sight and breath filled with Fritha. Fritha worked harder at the shell, her excitement almost frantic, the creature within thrusting its snout through the hole, in moments its head free, then stuck at its broad shoulders, twisting and snapping as it tried to breakout.\\n\\n\\\"Patience, my love,\\\" Fritha crooned, hands slick with slime as she snapped another piece of shell, and then there was a concussive popping sound, cracks cobwebbing through the whole egg and it exploded, showering Fritha and Gunil's feet in shell and slime.\\n\\nA creature stood before Fritha on squat legs with abroad skull and flat muzzle. Wide, heavily muscled shoulders and a scaly torso tapered into a thick tail. From snout to tail-tip the baby draig was about the length of Fritha's arm. It opened its jaw, revealing rows of needle-like teeth, and let out a croaking dog-like bark, then it sniffed the air, snapping its jaws.\\n\\nIt's hungry.\\n\\nFritha lifted a portion of slime-covered eggshell and the draig sniffed it, along red tongue appearing, licking the mucus, and then it was crunching into the shell, devouring it in a series of rapid gulps. It looked at Fritha, wanting more.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha laughed and fed it more of the eggshell; in a few moments all of it gone into the draig's belly. It stared at Fritha again, thick tendrils of jelly hanging from its jaws, its tail twitching.\\n\\nStill hungry.\\n\\n\\\"Gunil, some wyrm meat.\\\"\\n\\nThey had stripped the wyrm carcasses of meat once her Ferals had had their fill-not that there had been much left after the feeding frenzy of eleven Ferals and Gunil's bear. Gunil had cooked it and packed it with salt. Fritha had found it surprisingly tasty.\\n\\nGunil opened a barrel strapped to his bear and passed Fritha a filleted section of wyrm. She waved it in front of the draig, its snout following the meat, sniffing it, and then its head was lunging forwards, chomping into the meat, ahead-shake like a terrier with a rat, and it tore a chunk, chewed and gulped, then immediately attacked the remaining meat. It swallowed the last portion, belched, then turned in a circle, scratched at the forest litter and lay down. Within heartbeats its belly was rising and falling in sleep.\\n\\nFritha stroked its broad head, scales still slick with glutinous slime. She looked over her shoulder, up at Gunil, and grinned. He did not look so happy as her, a slight twist of disgust on his lips.\\n\\nIt is life, new life. There is nothing but beauty in that.\\n\\n\\\"Gunil, we might need another cage.\\\"\\n\\nA rustling of branches above and behind Fritha, a bird squawking, and she jumped to her feet, turning, sword hissing into her hand.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was Morn, descending through the treetop canopy, something in her arms. She alighted before Fritha and held out a shifting, squirming bundle. It took Fritha a moment to realize what it was.\\n\\nThe net Morn had been snared in, and within it, a big black crow.\\n\\nFritha smiled at Morn.\\n\\n\\\"Let Flick go,\\\" the crow squawked.\\n\\nFritha clapped her hands in delight.\\n\\n\\\"Thank you, Drem,\\\" she said to the sky. \\\"One of Dun Seren's talking crows. Your gifts just keep oncoming.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv stood in a huge chamber, a half-circle of tiered stone seats leading down to a dais about a hundred paces wide. Ben-Elim thronged the room, areal sense of awe filling Riv at the sight of so many of the winged warriors in the same place.\\n\\nIs this all of them?\\n\\nShe had lived her whole life at Drassil and so was used to seeing many Ben-Elim, and she had been on numerous campaigns as support to her sister's hundred, but never had she seen this many Ben-Elim gathered together.\\n\\nThere must be three thousand of them inhere.\\n\\nRiv had been made to stand on the dais before the gathered Ben-Elim. She had received more than a few harsh looks, but to her surprise she also saw many faces that regarded her with something that resembled interest more than hate.\\n\\nOr perhaps it's wishful thinking.\\n\\nKol stood up. He was seated in the lowest tier, on the far edge of its arc, so that as he stood he could angle himself to lookup at all of the gathered Ben-Elim, and still be facing Riv.\\n\\n\\\"We must vote,\\\" he said. \\\"The day is almost done.\\\"\\n\\nBeams of light through huge unshuttered windows cut into the room, low as the sun dipped into the horizon. Riv had been standing in front of the gathered Ben-Elim long enough for her feet to ache. It had not been the most pleasant time of her life, bearing the brunt of three thousand judging pairs of eyes.\\n\\n\\\"Not all are here yet,\\\" a voice called out-Kamael with his fair hair, standing on the far side of the room, a dozen tiers up from the ground.\\n\\n\\\"You mean, Sariel is not here yet,\\\" Kol said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Aye. Sariel is leader of the southern garrison, a respected elder. We cannot proceed without him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If Sariel cannot find the time to come to our Moot, the first that has been called for over half a century, then perhaps he is not worth waiting for,\\\" Kol said. \\\"This is a sacred meeting and should be respected as such.\\\"\\n\\nVoices called out their agreement.\\n\\nA Ben-Elim flew in through one of the large windows, gliding to Kamael's side. A few whispered words, Kamael frowning.\\n\\n\\\"Well,\\\" Kol said. \\\"Will Sariel be gracing us with his presence?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He... cannot be found,\\\" Kamael said.\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps he has returned to Ripa,\\\" Kol offered.\\n\\n\\\"No. This is not characteristic of Sariel. We should search for him,\\\" Kamael said.\\n\\n\\\"Break off the Moot to find one straggler?\\\" Kol snapped, waving his arms. \\\"Ridiculous. I say we cast our votes for the new Lord Protector now.\\\"\\n\\nKol, you are so clever. Riv eyed Kol suspiciously, wondering if he had played any part in Sariel's lack of appearance at the Moot.\\n\\nIt would not surprise me. She felt a sense of discomfort at that thought, another reminder of how far Kol was from Riv's moral code.\\n\\nAm I becoming like him, by ignoring his myriad dark deeds? Is this how Aphra felt? Each small step taken fora greater good, and then before you know it, you have walked a thousand leagues from where you used to be. And how do you return to that place, return to the person you were? Or if you cannot do that, how do you become the person that you wish to be?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Kamael scowled at Kol. \\\"Where is Sariel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am not his keeper,\\\" Kol said, his expression flat and cold.\\n\\n\\\"Nothing would keep Sariel from this Moot.\\\" Kamael took a step closer to Kol. \\\"Something, or someone, must have stopped him.\\\"\\n\\nKol returned his gaze. \\\"Are you making an accusation? If you are, you must present your evidence, else you are spouting conjecture and fancy. That is not becoming of the Ben-Elim.\\\"\\n\\nHe is daring Kamael.\\n\\nKamael glared at Kola moment, his wings trembling.\\n\\n\\\"I have no evidence yet. But this Moot should be postponed until Sariel is found, or until we have answers for his absence.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The fate of the Banished Lands should be postponed, with the Kadoshim stirring, because Sariel is late to a Moot?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We should wait,\\\" Kamael maintained.\\n\\n\\\"It is not your decision to make,\\\" Kol said.\\n\\n\\\"And neither is it yours,\\\" Kamael answered. \\\"You are not our Lord Protector.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very well, let us vote on whether we should vote, then,\\\" Kol said, rolling his eyes. \\\"Or does that not meet with your approval either, Kamael? Would you be dictator to us all?\\\"\\n\\nCalls fora vote rang out.\\n\\nAlong silence, Kol and Kamael staring at each other as if the world around them was gone.\\n\\n\\\"Of course, let us vote,\\\" Kamael eventually said, though the twitching of his wings gave away his feelings on the matter.\\n\\nIt did not take long, the vast majority of the gathering stood to show their desire to vote.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I propose Kol be inducted as our new Lord Protector,\\\" a voice called out: Hadran, who remained on his seat even as the host who had stood were sitting back down. The bruises on his paleface from his fight in the weapons-field stood out like a smudge on pale parchment.\\n\\n\\\"First, we should discuss... this,\\\" Kamael said, waving a hand at Riv.\\n\\n\\\"There is nothing to discuss,\\\" Kol said. \\\"Riv was voted on before the whole of Drassil. To disregard that would be to disregard the people.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We rule here,\\\" Kamael said.\\n\\nRiv just stared at the white-haired Ben-Elim. He was not the same as Sariel, did not seem to have his strength or force of presence. As much as she had despised what Sariel had said, his presence had been commanding. When he spoke, it felt natural to listen.\\n\\n\\\"We will not punish the innocent for the sins of their fathers, or mothers,\\\" Kol said. \\\"That has been decided, agreed by the people. Togo back on that would risk much, would even risk their faith in us, I fear. And let us not forget, when all of us are gathered together, there are little more than three thousand of us, whereas the mortals of these Banished Lands number in the hundreds of thousands. We rule because they allow us to rule.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You speak nonsense.\\\" Kamael snorted.\\n\\n\\\"Do I?\\\" Kol replied. \\\"Our authority was accepted because we entered this world as the saviours of humankind, vanquishing the Kadoshim. But that was over a hundred years ago. Those grateful people are all long dead and in the ground. This new generation must accept us for what we do now, and they have already spoken on this matter. To overrule them now...\\\" Kol left the consequences of that hanging.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Rebellion?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv thought.\\n\\nWhich is why you made your stand in front of the people, Kol. To put these Ben-Elim in a position that they could not withdraw from gracefully.\\n\\n\\\"Who was your father?\\\" Kamael said, ignoring Kol's words. He lifted into the air from his seat and glided down to the dais, landing a few paces before Riv. His eyes bore into her.\\n\\n\\\"I don't know,\\\" Riv said, returning his stare with matched intensity.\\n\\n\\\"Who was he?\\\" Kamael asked again, lips curling in a snarl.\\n\\n\\\"I. Don't. Know,\\\" Riv said, quietly, anger pulsing with the beat of her heart, a drumbeat in her skull.\\n\\n\\\"Your mother?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Dalmae,\\\" Riv said. \\\"Once a captain of a White-Wing hundred.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And where is she?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She was slain,\\\" Riv said. \\\"The night Israfil died.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She fought in Israfil's defence,\\\" Kol said, loudly, for all to hear.\\n\\nNo. She fought in my defence. Against you, Kol.\\n\\n\\\"Against traitors. Dalmae is a hero.\\\"\\n\\nMurderer, Riv thought, straining to keep her anger at Kol leashed, her focus directed at Kamael.\\n\\n\\\"This is all so convenient,\\\" Kamael said. \\\"Your father unknown; your mother dead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Convenient?\\\" Riv said. \\\"Convenient that my mother is dead?\\\" She felt her fingers twitch, the memory of Dalmae's lifeless eyes staring at her. Mother, grandmother, it did not matter to Riv. Dalmae had raised Rivas her own, a lifetime of caring, teaching, loving. Just the memory of her stirred grief in Riv deep as her bones.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I loved my mother,\\\" Riv snarled.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Her death was a tragedy, not a convenience.\\\" The thought of wrapping her fingers around Kamael's throat was growing evermore appealing.\\n\\nAnd then, without warning, Kamael was moving, drawing a knife, stabbing, wings beating to close the gap between them.\\n\\nRiv saw the blade coming at her chest, its tip glinting in the last rays of the sun. She threw herself backwards, her wings snapping out and beating to break her fall, holding her bent almost parallel to the ground. Kamael's knife passed above Riv, slicing only air, and then Riv was grabbing Kamael's wrist, a twist of her hips and a beat of her wings and she was turning in the air, rolling around his arm, spinning him, too, snapping his wrist and taking his feet from the floor. She slammed him into the ground, standing over him, fists clenched, nostrils flaring.\\n\\nHer hand reached to the short-sword at her hip.\\n\\nThen Kol was there. Kamael tried to rise and Kol kicked him back down, put afoot on his chest.\\n\\n\\\"Riv is the future,\\\" Kol said, leaning over him.\\n\\n\\\"She is an affront to Elyon's Lore,\\\" Kamael spluttered.\\n\\n\\\"There is no Elyon's Lore,\\\" Kol snarled back. \\\"You know this. You know that we wrote it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" Riv said, stunned.\\n\\nKol froze, staring at Riv. A silence settled around them, like a held breath.\\n\\n\\\"Elyon's Lore was written by the Ben-Elim,\\\" Kol said finally. \\\"It did not come from Elyon the Maker, it was, is only what we thought his will would be.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Elyon's Lore, a lie.\\n\\nAll those countless hours listening to the Lore, learning, praying, obeying. The guilt of any wrongdoing.\\n\\nAnd it is a lie.\\n\\nHer world was continually shifting, like standing on a sheet of ice that flowed upon a river. Riv tried hard to keep her emotions from her face, the sense that she should not have heard this revelation heavy upon her.\\n\\nI must not give the Ben-Elim another reason to want me dead.\\n\\n\\\"But we are not Elyon, we are not divine,\\\" Kol said, staring up at the thousands of Ben-Elim gazing down at him. \\\"We wrote the Lore intending it to be a guide for mankind, and away of pleasing our Maker, when he returns. But perhaps on this one Lore, we were wrong. I ask you all, is it worth ruining our relationship with Elyon's creation, worth division with them, perhaps even a war with them? I ask you, is it worth losing all else we have gained in this land of flesh? Let this one Lore go, and let us move on with mankind. Let me lead you, name me your Lord Protector and I shall lead us through this. Anew order fora new world. It will make us stronger; it will make us more able to destroy the Kadoshim, our eternal foe.\\\"\\n\\nA silence, then one Ben-Elim stood.\\n\\nAnd then another, and another, and then the whole chamber seemed to shift, a wave of mail and wings as thousands of Ben-Elim rose to their feet.\\n\\nKol leaned over and gripped Kamael's hand, helping him to his feet.\\n\\n\\\"Be my friend, Kamael,\\\" Kol whispered, low enough that only Riv could hear, \\\"or you shall be my enemy.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Kamael cradled his broken wrist, looking at Riv and then around the chamber. He slowly nodded. \\\"The Moot has spoken,\\\" he said, then spread his wings and flew back to the tiers.\\n\\n\\\"Well, I'm glad that's over with,\\\" Kol whispered to Riv through a beatific smile, even as he raised a hand in thanks, cheers of acclamation echoing from the Ben-Elim. \\\"Now we must fly for Dun Seren. Time to tell the good news to Ethlinn, Balur One-Eye and the damned Order of the Bright Star.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Drem stood open-mouthed and looked up.\\n\\n\\\"Well met, One-Eye,\\\" Keld said to the giant, who towered over them.\\n\\nThey had just crossed the ridge of a shallow slope and stood on a plateau that abruptly gave way to a sheer drop, the sound of a river far below. Balur was leaning against the wall of a wide bridge that spanned the drop. Beside him another giant sat upon the ground, passing a whetstone across the edge of along-hafted axe. This giant was black-haired, the sides of his head shaved to stubble, the hair on the top of his headlong and woven into a thick warrior braid. Another axe, like the one across his lap, was slung over his shoulder. But Drem's eyes were irresistibly drawn to Balur One-Eye.\\n\\nBalur One-Eye.\\n\\nThousands of years old, the tales tell, one of those that drank from the Starstone Cup, giving them long life and strength. Not that he looks as if he needed anymore strength. Though he does look old.\\n\\nBalur's face was a map of scars and ridges, skin puckered around one empty socket, his hair white as milk and tied into a thick warrior braid. His long, drooping moustache was bound with leather cord. But Drem could seethe knots and slabs of muscle that bunched beneath Balur's clothes. Even beneath layers of wool, leather and fur, Balur's musculature was formidable. His legs were wider than some trees Drem had seen. Tattoos of thorn and vine coiled around his thick forearms, disappearing beneath leather vambraces and fur-edged sleeves of linen. A war-hammer was slung over the giant's shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Stepor found you, then,\\\" Balur One-Eye rumbled.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Flick found them,\\\" Rab the crow squawked. He was perched on Cullen's shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, that's the truth of it,\\\" Stepor said.\\n\\n\\\"Well met, Balur One-Eye,\\\" Cullen said, swaggering up to the giant.\\n\\n\\\"Well met, little Cullen,\\\" Balur replied, the edge of a smile touching his lips. \\\"I am glad to see your hubris has not put you in a cairn yet.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No one out there capable of doing that,\\\" Cullen replied with a grin.\\n\\nBalur looked at the dark-haired giant. \\\"You see what I mean?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" grunted the giant, not breaking a stroke of his axe-sharpening.\\n\\nHammer crested the ridge behind them, and the dark-haired giant rose, slinging his axe across his back and calling out to her.\\n\\n\\\"Ach, it is a sore sight, seeing that bear's back riderless. Sig, how could you fall?\\\" Balur's face twisted in grief, shifting to a glowering anger. \\\"Sig, I will avenge you,\\\" he growled.\\n\\nThen the white bear appeared behind Hammer. He saw the giants and stopped, though Hammer lumbered down to them, the dark-haired giant striding to her and wrapping one of his thick-muscled arms around her neck, laying his head against the bear and murmuring quietly.\\n\\nBalur looked at the white bear, then at Stepor and Keld, and raised an eyebrow.\\n\\n\\\"Don't look at me,\\\" Stepor said. \\\"This lot have been making friends in the wilderness.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Found him being set upon by a brood of white wyrms,\\\" Keld said. \\\"We helped him out a little, and since then he's taken a liking to us.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2299,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 36"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Who were they?\" Hadran asked.\n\n\"I saw Kadoshim flying above us like great bats.\"\n\nKamael spat a curse when the Kadoshim were mentioned.\n\n\"They were not alone; there were men and women with them, shaven-haired fanatics, but there were other... things... as well. Part man, part beast, that killed with claw and fang, not sword and spear.\"\n\nBleda remembered the Feral beast-men that had attacked Drassil. He remembered putting arrows into one, seeing it fall and rise again, ripping arrows from its body, charging at him in a snarling, berserker rage.\n\nHe shivered.\n\n\"And there were other things with them. Human inform but, believe me, human they were not.\"\n\n\"What do you mean? Speak clearer,\" Kamael the Ben-Elim said.\n\n\"They are difficult to describe, unless you see them, but perhaps this is clear enough for you,\" Uldin said, nodding to his honour guard with the sack. The warrior stepped forwards and emptied its contents on the ground.\n\nA severed head rolled across the stones, strips of skin, flesh and gristle draping from its neck. It was a woman, Bleda thought, though it was hard to tell. Her face looked malformed, eyes sunken, the skin stretched too tight, its mouth misshapen. Her lips were fixed in a savage rictus of a snarl, revealing a mouth that looked too big for the face it was set within, and either side of its elongated canines were rows of sharp, needle-like teeth.\n\nBleda resisted the urge to take a step away from the severed head.\n\n\"What is that?\" Hadran said, moving closer and leaning in fora better look."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I do not know, but they are hard to kill,\" Uldin said. \"A dozen arrows, a spear in its belly, but only when I took this one's head did it stop trying to sink its teeth into me.\"\n\nErdene stood and nudged it with her toe, sending it rolling in an arc across the stones.\n\n\"This is intolerable,\" Kamael said. \"Kadoshim and their followers so close to Drassil. We must send out the White-Wings.\" He looked to Hadran, and Bleda realized that Kamael did not have the authority to order such a campaign.\n\n\"Yes,\" Hadran said. \"We shall muster the White-Wings and fly outwith them.\"\n\n\"White-Wings, on foot?\" Uldin said. \"Better to send your giants on their bears. White-Wings would take a moon to walk the journey we have ridden since we were attacked.\"\n\n\"Ethlinn and Balur One-Eye are not here,\" Hadran said. \"They are at Dun Seren.\"\n\n\"Send for them,\" Kamael said.\n\n\"Dun Seren is the opposite direction,\" Hadran said. \"Word must be sent to Kol, but it is too far for Ethlinn and her bear-riders to reach us and then march on this new threat. Might as well send out the White-Wings as wait for the giants to arrive.\"\n\n\"But we cannot do nothing,\" Kamael said. \"The Kadoshim, so close.\"\n\n\"We will fly out,\" Hadran said. \"There are more Ben-Elim gathered at Drassil now than there have been for fifty years.\"\n\n\"But Forn is a mask from above. Remember Varan's Fall, the ambush in the trees. We need eyes and swords on the ground,\" Kamael said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I cannot conjure what does not exist,\" Hadran snapped. \"The choice is fly quick or march slow with the White-Wings.\"\n\nBleda looked at his mother. \"I have seen the Kadoshim, fought their Feral beasts. They are an evil that must be stopped.\"\n\nErdene looked at Bleda along moment.\n\n\"I will lead the Sirak out,\" Erdene said. \"I have half a thousand riders here. We shall ride out and meet this threat. We shall be your swords and eyes on the ground.\"\n\n\"I shall ride with you,\" Uldin said.\n\n\"You are recently wounded,\" Hadran pointed out.\n\n\"I will ride with Erdene,\" Uldin said. \"We are to be one Clan, soon, I know, but I would not have the Sirak steal the battle glory from us. The Cheren will ride to battle.\" He touched the stitched wound across his forehead. \"Besides, I have a score to settle.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Drem stepped out onto Dun Seren's weapons-field and paused, blinking at the enormity of it. It was only a little past dawn, the sun pale and fresh, painting the field in long shadows and hues of amber.\n\nPeople were everywhere. Thousands, it felt like-more people than Drem had ever seen in anyone place in all of his life. It was overwhelming. He raised a hand to find the pulse in his neck.\n\n\"Come on,\" Cullen called back to him, the red-haired warrior strutting onto the field, looking for all the world as if it belonged to him. Cullen glanced back at Drem, saw him hovering at the entrance to the field, and walked back to him.\n\n\"You've fought draigs, wyrms, Feral beasts. And a mad witch. This is nothing,\" Cullen said, wrapping an arm around Drem's shoulders and steering him onto the field. Drem allowed himself to be led, though he wasn't sure he agreed.\n\nI feel more comfortable in the wild.\n\nCullen steered Drem through a knot of giants sparring with wooden hammers and axes, the ground shaking as they crashed into each other, and then beyond them towards where the main mass of people were gathered, more joining them with every moment.\n\nByrne stood at their head, with two others beside her, a squat and muscular man and a tall, dark-skinned woman.\n\nByrne looked very different from the kindly aunt who had comforted him only a day ago, dressed now in simple working leathers, her hair tied back severely to show her sharp-angled face. The other two were dressed similarly. The tall woman looked at Drem as he followed Cullen.\n\n\"Who are they?\" Drem whispered to Cullen."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Those with Byrne, they're Kill and Cure,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Eh?\" Drem frowned.\n\n\"Byrne's two captains,\" Cullen said. \"A quick history lesson is needed, I think, else you'll go embarrassing yourself, and that will make me look bad.\" He grinned at Drem's confused expression. \"This Order was founded in remembrance of two people, Brina and Gar, Corban's dearest friends. They fell in the battle on the Day of Wrath, and Corban swore to honour and remember them.\" Cullen gestured at Dun Seren. \"This is how he did it, by building this place. Not just the walls and towers, but the people you see around you. Gar was a warrior, Corban's teacher, and Brina was a healer. So here at Dun Seren Corban founded an order dedicated to both arts. How to kill, and how to cure. We learn both here, and so there are two captains-one to oversee each discipline. Kill and Cure.\" Cullen pointed at the man and woman with Byrne.\n\n\"Ah, so those aren't their real names, then?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Ha, no, but they might as well be. No one calls them by anything else, now.\"\n\n\"So...\" Drem began.\n\n\"More questions later,\" Cullen said as he took a place in the lines, beckoning Drem to stand beside him. \"No more time now.\"\n\n\"What are we doing?\"\n\n\"This is the Order of the Bright Star, how else do you think we'd start the day? Not too close, now,\" Cullen said, \"else you'll end up slicing someone's body parts off.\"\n\n\"Eh?\" Drem said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then he saw Byrne draw the curved sword from her back, holding it loosely.\n\nDrem realized what they were doing.\n\nThe sword dance.\n\n\"Stooping falcon,\" Byrne called out, raising her sword two-handed over her head.\n\nDrem drew his father's sword, his sword now, set his feet and raised the blade high.\n\n\"Lightning strike,\" Byrne called out and over a thousand swords slashed down, diagonally, right to left, the sound of it like a high wind passing through the gullies of the Bonefells. It was exhilarating.\n\nThey held the pose for long moments, sweat dappling Drem's brow, steaming in the morning's chill air.\n\n\"Boar's tusk,\" Byrne cried out, all those gathered on the field taking a step and stabbing forwards, low to high, legs bent, arms extended. Holding the pose again, muscles beginning to burn in thigh and back, shoulder and wrist.\n\n\"Iron gate,\" Byrne cried. Drem took a step back, bringing his sword across his body, a diagonal defence.\n\n\"Scorpion's tail,\" called Byrne, and Drem dropped into a squatting stance, one hand in front for balance, his blade above his head and behind, parallel to the ground, like a scorpion's tail about to strike.\n\nAll around him men and women were doing the same, and as Byrne called the forms Drem heard his father's voice and imagined his mother and father working through the sword dance, on this very field, just as he was now.\n\nThere was a comfort in that, something warm and satisfying.\n\nBefore he realized, it was over, people all around him were sheathing their blades, Cullen stepping over to slap him on the shoulder."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Come on, don't let the sweat dry,\" Cullen said. He laughed as Drem fumbled sheathing his sword and then led Drem away from the centre ground, towards racks of wooden weapons.\n\nAll around the field groups gathered indifferent disciplines. Some stood in a loose-ordered line, four ranks deep, with the Order's round shields on their arm. A command was shouted and the ranks closed up, shields coming together with aloud snap, forming a wall of wood andiron.\n\nBeyond them riders galloped, swords slicing at fruit on stands. Elsewhere a warrior ran alongside a cantering horse, grabbed its saddle and leaped into the air, swinging himself up onto the horse's back, grabbing reins and urging the horse to a gallop.\n\n\"The running mount,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"That's amazing,\" Drem told him.\n\n\"Part of every warrior's training here. Fail that and you fail your warrior trial.\"\n\n\"You can do that?\" Drem asked Cullen.\n\n\"Oh aye, of course I can.\" Cullen grinned.\n\nDrem shook his head, continued looking around. He saw giants on bears, archers loosing at straw targets, another group of warriors practising with the lead-weighted nets Drem had seen Cullen use on the Kadoshim half-breed.\n\nEverywhere, the art of killing was being rehearsed.\n\nCullen hefted a few wooden swords, then put them back, finally settling on one for himself and for Drem.\n\n\"Sword belt off,\" Cullen said as he unbuckled his own weapons-belt and lay it alongside a rack of other scabbarded swords. \"It's wood for sparring, not steel.\" He threw Drem a wooden practice sword. Drem caught it, to his surprise found it was heavier than his sword. He questioned Cullen about it."},{"from":"human","value":"\"These wooden blades are drilled out, hollowed, and then lead poured inside,\" Cullen said."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Train hard, fight easy.\" He smiled. \"After a moon in the field with this you'll feel as if you're wielding a feather when you use your blades of steel. And you'll have wrists and arms of iron.\"\n\nAnd then Cullen came at Drem, using the forms they'd just practised in the sword dance, pausing between almost every strike, talking to Drem about his stance, his footwork, describing how he should blend it all into defence and attack.\n\nCullen started slowly, explaining the theory of every strike and defence after he executed them, but as time went on his attacks became faster, then combinations of blows, and Drem found himself sweating, managing to defend a few blows, but always the end was the same, Cullen's sword giving him a bruise, or a touch to neck, heart or groin.\n\nCullen stabbed at Drem's shoulder; as Drem swept his sword to block the blow, Cullen twisted his wrist, dropped his sword below Drem's parry and stabbed him in the belly.\n\nI am dead a hundred times already.\n\nAs they sparred Drem became aware of people gathering around them, of eyes on him.\n\n\"The power in a strike does not come from your arms alone,\" Cullen said to Drem. \"It's more legs and hips exploding up, into and through your arms. And little steps,\" Cullen added. \"Never over-extend. Lose your balance, lose your head.\" He grinned again, luring Drem into a lunge that ended with Cullen's sword on the back of Drem's neck.\n\n\"Drem, try fighting him with these,\" a voice called out, and Drem turned, saw Keld throwing objects at him. Instinctively he caught the first, dropped his sword and caught the second. Looking in his hands he had wooden versions of a short-sword and axe."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Closest thing I could find to the seax Olin forged for you,\" Keld said. \"Now put Cullen on his arse.\"\n\nDrem nodded his thanks. He didn't really know what was expected of these weapons, had not learned any forms with them. But he was used to them, familiar through over a decade of use, even if it was only through trapping and hunting. And he had used them against Fritha and her Ferals.\n\nNot that that turned out too well.\n\nHe glimpsed giants in the crowd around him, Balur and Alcyon therewith Tain the crow master, all watching him and Cullen, and amongst them, Byrne, arms folded across her chest, face set in stern lines. A handful of women were all staring at Cullen, who was blowing them a kiss.\n\nDrem set his feet, short-sword in his right hand, axe in his left.\n\nCullen grinned at him, circling, Drem shifting to face him.\n\nCullen lunged in, sword snaking out, cutting at Drem's shoulder. Drem's axe swept the blow wide, but somehow Cullen twisted his wrist, his sword suddenly below Drem's axe and it was cutting in at his ribs. Drem threw himself backwards, narrowly avoiding the blow. Cullen was grinning, ear to ear, and striding at him. Drem retreated, a flurry of clacks as he managed to block a torrent of blows.\n\nHe didn't know how long it went on for, only that his lungs were burning as he instinctively tried to stay alive a few heartbeats longer. The fact that Cullen was pausing fora heartbeat here and thereto lavish a smile on someone in the crowd, or to wink at some female, gave him a few moments of recovery. Thoughts began to filter into his mind-Drem's logic analysing how he was being manoeuvred and out-skilled."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He is dictating this, while all I do is defend.\n\n\"Get in close,\" a voice called out, Keld, Drem thought.\n\nHe's right, Cullen has the advantage of reach with his sword. If I am to score a hit, I must get closer to him.\n\nAnd then Cullen was stepping in, a stab at Drem's shoulder. Drem made to block it, recognized the feint Cullen had used on him when he had been using his practice sword. He parried with his axe, at the last moment dropping the angle, catching and hooking Cullen's blade as it made to sweep under his arm.\n\nThere was a moment's surprise on Cullen's face, his grin wavering as Drem dragged him off balance. Drem stepped in and then his short-sword was at Cullen's throat.\n\n\"Ha, Cullen's dead,\" a voice called out, Stepor, perhaps. Cullen was standing frozen still, just staring at Drem, a shocked expression on the young warrior's face. Then he was moving back, holding his hands in the air.\n\n\"Well, aren't I the arsewipe,\" Cullen said, a smile splitting his face. He looked at the crowd gathered about them. \"That'll teach me to underestimate a foe.\" He looked at Keld and Stepor, who were laughing hard. \"Thought I'd say that before you two did,\" Cullen said to them, which made them laugh all the harder.\n\nDrem looked around the crowd, saw Byrne staring at him. She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. A ghost of a smile, then she was moving on, talking to another pair who were sparring, checking and adjusting their stances.\n\n\"Come on, Drem, my lad,\" Cullen said. \"Let's see how you get on with a shield in your hand.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I wish he'd stop calling me lad.\n\nA noise drew Drem's attention; people were stopping in their training and pausing to stare towards the entrance field. Drem looked, too, and saw a group of men and women walking onto the field, a hundred of them at least.\n\nThey walked with the self-assured confidence of warriors, a harnessed grace about them, an air of violence. All were clothed in dark breeches and shirts of mail beneath hard-boiled leather cuirasses.\n\nThey were clearly warriors of the Order, as all of them wore the bright star emblazoned upon their cuirasses, but to Drem they looked startlingly different to the other warriors in the field. They were dark-skinned, all with long, jet-black hair tied at the nape, and all wore curved, two-handed swords across their backs.\n\nLike Byrne's.\n\nCheers rang out to welcome these newcomers.\n\nA man led them, dressed the same, with a hooked nose that reminded Drem of a hawk. His dark hair was streaked with grey and silver, but something about him set him apart from the others. Perhaps it was the way he was smiling, nodding and raising a hand to the greetings echoing out. Or maybe it was the way he seemed to all but glide across the ground, his movements fluid and contained.\n\n\"Who are they?\" Drem asked Cullen.\n\n\"That's Utul and his crew, answering the call to muster, I'd guess,\" Cullen said. \"Not bad in a scrap, is Utul. Not as handy to have around as me, of course, but not bad. He's captain of the Order's garrison in Balara.\"\n\n\"Balara?\" Drem asked, the name vaguely familiar to him."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Aye."},{"from":"gpt","value":"An old giant fortress far to the south, on the coast of the Tethys Sea.\"\n\nThat's along way from here, if my lessons were taught right, Drem thought.\n\nClose by, the giant Tain looked up, shielding his eyes to stare. A shape was approaching in the northern sky, a pale pinprick that grew, squawking and croaking as it descended down to the weapons-field.\n\nRab alighted on Tain's outstretched arm.\n\n\"What news, Rab?\" Byrne asked as she approached, Kill and Cure either side of her.\n\n\"Death in the north,\" the crow squawked. \"People running, hunted by Twisted men.\"\n\nDrem felt his back stiffen. That was the name Rab had given the Ferals.\n\n\"They need help,\" Rab squawked.\n\nByrne looked to Keld and Stepor.\n\n\"Let's go get them,\" Cullen said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha tapped heels against her stolen horse, urging it into a canter as she turned a corner in the road and saw Starstone Lake appear before her, its dark waters glittering in the bright sunlight. Ina cluster upon its northern bank squatted the mine, the sight of it setting off an abundance of memories for Fritha.\n\nThis is where it all began. My creations. Making new life. Absently she put a hand to her belly, fora heartbeat could almost remember what it had been like to hold anew life within her, to feel it growing, changing.\n\nThe most wonderful feeling in the world.\n\nAnd the Ben-Elim tainted that for me.\n\nTo her left, woodland spread as far as her eye could see, sweeping up to the foothills of the Bonefells. The last time she had been here the landscape was snowbound, but now spring was asserting its grip upon the land. Snow still clung stubbornly to the trees, but it was melting, boughs creaking as the weight upon them shifted, new streams of snowmelt winding their way into the lake.\n\nThe gates to the mine opened as she approached; Fritha rode through first, nodding a greeting to the men and women manning the gates, part of her Red Right Hand that she had left behind.\n\nA shadow skimmed the ground and Fritha looked up and saw Morn sweeping low over the mine, circling down towards the central square, where Fritha's table was set.\n\nFritha led her column through the complex towards its centre, where the cave-riddled boulder of granite reared. Shaven-haired men and women greeted Fritha, acolytes she recognized, and others she did not.\n\nMore that have answered Gulla's call."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As she rode on she saw people everywhere, a frenetic energy in the air.\n\nSomething is happening.\n\nElsewhere were groups of men and women, standing in huddled masses. Fritha's eye was drawn to them. Hair matted and unkempt, clothes lank, torn, arms hanging limp at their sides. They were standing perfectly, unnaturally still. The acolytes seemed to avoid these groups, swirling past them like water parting for rocks in a stream.\n\nSpace opened around Fritha as she rode her horse into the clearing before the boulder, a gesture ordering her column to halt in the shadows of a street. Her bloodstained table dominated the open space, wide and deep, iron hooks and chains littered upon its surface, and beyond it was Gulla, High Captain of the Kadoshim.\n\nHe stood tall and broad, leathery wings folded and arching behind each shoulder, his face all sharp angles and tight skin, the gaping socket where the white crow had taken his eye a dark, skin-puckered hole. When he moved there was a shimmer of darkness around him, a black nimbus.\n\nA figure stood behind him, unnaturally still. It took a moment to recognize him as Ulf the tanner of Kergard.\n\nNo, no longer Ulf the tanner. Now he is Ulf the Revenant, one of the Seven.\n\nHe was thinner than Fritha remembered, his face gaunt, features chiselled, with deep pools of shadow around his eyes and cheeks. A smear of something dark and crusted ran from his lip to his chin.\n\nGulla strode around the table and stood before Fritha as she reined in and dismounted, one of her Red Right Hand hurrying over to take her reins and lead her horse away."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Morn swept down from the sky, landing beside Fritha, and together they dropped to one knee, bowing their heads before Gulla.\n\n\"Greetings, my daughter,\" Gulla said, and Fritha heard Morn stand.\n\n\"Father,\" said Morn. An embrace.\n\n\"Priestess, where are those I sent you out to capture?\" Gulla said, his voice sounding as if it hissed and scratched inside Fritha's skull.\n\n\"Forgive me, Lord,\" Fritha said. She paused, struggling with the words she was about to say. Knew she had to say. \"I have failed you.\"\n\nFritha left a silence as Gulla stared at her.\n\n\"The huntsman, versed in the earth power, and Cullen, descendant of Corban, both slipped through your fingers,\" Gulla said quietly, dangerously.\n\nFritha gulped. \"But I have brought you gifts,\" she said.\n\n\"Gifts,\" Gulla said. \"They must be great indeed to make your failure fade.\" A brush of his fingertips upon her shoulder bidding her to rise.\n\nFritha felt her blood burn at his words as she stood.\n\nFailure.\n\n\"Behold,\" Fritha said, gesturing behind her and turning.\n\nA shouted command, the crack of a whip and her column rolled into the space.\n\nFirst came a dozen of her Red Right Hand, all on stolen mounts, and swirling at their flanks were her Ferals, loping, some on two legs, others using their extended arms as extra legs. They all filed left or right, making way for Gunil upon his giant bear, dipping his head to Gulla as he reined in. Claw was pulling a travois with a cage upon it, sheets of stitched hide covering its contents. Fritha heard a sibilant hissing from within the cage and smiled. Her wyrm was still alive, stronger than it had been."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Behind the bear and the cage a wain was being pulled by a harnessed bull auroch, its chest as broad as the wain. Its head reared up as Arn touched its flanks with a whip and it let out a mournful bellow. On the bench seat beside Arn stood another cage, far smaller than the one that contained the wyrm. The crow from Dun Seren sat upon a perch, head bowed, feathers ruffled and shoulders hunched as its intelligent eyes swivelled back and forth, taking in all it could see of the mine.\n\nHe is a nosy bird, perfect for being a spy of the Order.\n\nThe crow's eyes touched on Gulla and froze, staring.\n\nIn the back of the wain lay Elise, pale and sweat-stained, and beside her one last cage, this one larger than the crow's cage, smaller than the wyrm's, and in it was Fritha's draig. She could hear it snoring as the cart rolled to a halt before her.\n\nAll he does is sleep and eat, thought Fritha affectionately.\n\nAnother wain rumbled along behind Arn's, this one full with people they had taken on their journey back to the mine. Some were from the hold Fritha had taken to contact Gulla, the rest from holds they'd encountered during their return journey.\n\nAnother gift for Gulla, to appease him for my failure.\n\nBehind this vehicle the last of her Red Right Hand rode. The stolen mounts and wains had speeded their journey back to the mine considerably. That and the fact that they could cut straight across the Desolation, instead of following the protracted route through the Bonefells that they had taken in pursuit of Drem and his companions."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha approached the cage harnessed to Gunil's bear. She undid the knots that tied the hide covering to the cage's bars, then grabbed a fistful of the hide and pulled it free.\n\nThe white wyrm reared on its coils, head weaving. It was still not healed, some of its wounds leaking a stinking pus, but it had returned from the shade of death. A rattling hiss emanated from its throat as it bared long fangs at Fritha.\n\n\"A wyrm, survivor of the breed created by the giants in their War of Treasures,\" Fritha said. \"We thought them long dead, but I bring you one, my Lord.\" She bowed.\n\n\"Impressive,\" Gulla said, leaning close to the bars.\n\nThe wyrm's head darted forward, as big as a shield, then froze, its tongue darting out, tasting the air. A ripple as it slithered away, pressed its bulk against the bars at the back of the cage, away from Gulla.\n\n\"It fears you, my Lord,\" Fritha said. \"As is only right.\"\n\nGulla smiled.\n\n\"And I bring you this,\" Fritha said, walking away from the wyrm's cage, towards Arn's wain. The draig was awake in its cage now, grown already, roughly the size of a war-hound, though lower to the ground, but broader across the chest and shoulders. It scuttled over to Fritha as she approached the bars, mouth open, and she reached into a bucket and pulled out a still-dripping liver, cut from an elk that her Ferals had tracked and brought down that morning. She threw it into the cage and the draig set to ripping it apart, swallowing great chunks of it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Gulla drew near and it stopped its feasting, one taloned foot on its food, and growled at Gulla. A deep rumbling in its belly, like gravel sliding down a slope.\n\n\"It has more courage than your wyrm,\" Gulla observed. \"Or less intelligence.\"\n\nHe stepped closer to Fritha and the draig threw itself at the bars, crunching into them, wood bending, cracking, jaws and claws reaching for Gulla, but the cage held.\n\n\"I don't think he likes you,\" Gunil observed from the back of his bear.\n\nFritha shot Gunil a dark look.\n\n\"The draig has bonded tome, my Lord. He has an acute sense of loyalty.\"\n\n\"Not a fault,\" Gulla said. \"I like it. Use it well.\"\n\n\"And my last gift to you, my Lord,\" Fritha said, gesturing to the crow in its cage beside Arn.\n\nGulla looked at Fritha, an eyebrow raised.\n\n\"A crow?\" he said.\n\n\"Look closer,\" Fritha said.\n\nGulla leaned in, peering at the crow, which shuffled on its perch, ruffling its feathers.\n\n\"Kadoshim, badman,\" the crow muttered.\n\nGulla smiled.\n\n\"This is Flick, a crow of Dun Seren,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"I think you must have much to tell me, Flick of Dun Seren,\" Gulla said.\n\nFlick hopped on his perch.\n\n\"Tell badman nothing,\" Flick croaked.\n\n\"We shall see.\" Gulla smiled, then looked to Fritha. \"You have done well, Priestess. Maybe not redeemed yourself, quite. But well enough.\" His look darkened. \"Dun Seren will know of us by now. They will march onus.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"They will, my Lord.\"\n\n\"We must be ready,\" Gulla growled. \"A hundred and thirty years of war in these Banished Lands, coming down to these few last moons.\" He looked at Fritha, long and appraising. Then at the wains and beasts in their cages.\n\n\"And these?\" he said, waving his hand at the score of prisoners.\n\n\"Recruits.\" Fritha shrugged. \"Acolytes, or perhaps to feed your new thirst. Or that of the Seven.\"\n\n\"The Seven I have sent out,\" Gulla said. \"All but Ulf, who has a purpose here.\"\n\nFritha looked beyond Gulla to Ulf, standing perfectly still, like a carven statue behind her table.\n\n\"I thank you for these gifts you bring tome, and yet I seethe light in your eyes, Priestess,\" Gulla said. \"I see your greed.\"\n\n\"They are for you, to help you win this war. But if I worked with them a little, made them into something new, I am certain they would be of greater use...\"\n\n\"Very well, then,\" Gulla said. \"Work your magic with them.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hooves clattered on stone as Drem rode across the bridge that led away from Dun Seren and back into the Desolation. Beside him was Keld, sitting easily on a dappled mare, Fen loping ahead with Stepor's wolven-hounds, Grack and Ralla.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Drem said to the huntsman.\n\n\"What for?\" Keld frowned.\n\n\"Speaking for me.\"\n\nWhen Drem had heard Rab's news of people being hunted by Ferals he had instinctively volunteered to ride outwith Keld. The huntsman had been given the task of putting together a scouting party to try and find them before it was too late. Drem didn't like the thought of riding into battle and violence, but he knew better than most what the Ferals were capable of and the devastation they could cause.\n\nByrne had pursed her lips, not happy at Drem riding back into the Desolation.\n\n\"You have been here little more than a day,\" she had said.\n\n\"Drem'd be welcome in my crew,\" Keld had replied. \"He's as fine a huntsman as you'll find.\"\n\nByrne had given Keld astern look but she had not refused him.\n\n\"Meant what I said,\" Keld replied. \"You area fine huntsman. But more than that, I trust you with my back.\"\n\nCullen's laugh rose up behind them, and Drem twisted in his saddle to look back.\n\nThe red-haired warrior was riding alongside two of the warriors from Balara in the south, Utul, their captain, and a woman named Shar. Cullen and Utul were laughing about something, the woman stern-faced and unamused. Behind them were five more riders-the man named Cure with four more healers. They were riding to Dalgarth, the traders' town, as the plague there was rumoured to be worsening."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Last of all, two giants towered at the rear of their small party, Alcyon with his twin axes slung behind his shoulders and Tain the crow master striding beside him.\n\nDrem looked at the bulk of Dun Seren rearing behind them and breathed a sigh of relief to be out in the open again. While he already felt a fond sentiment for the fortress because of his parents and now Byrne, the sheer numbers of those living within its walls were not the easiest thing for him to deal with. Almost all of his life he had lived alone, just his da and the wilderness for company, so Dun Seren was overwhelming.\n\nHe turned and set his face to the north, to the rolling terrain and wide blue sky.\n\n\"We'll be leaving you now,\" Cure said as Dalgarth came into view. He was a squat, muscled man who looked more suited to the pugil ring than healing, but there was a steady kindness in his gaze that had Drem trusting him almost instantly.\n\n\"Ride wide around the town,\" Cure said to Keld and Stepor. \"Take no risks. I'd not have you on a sickbed when there's fighting to be done.\"\n\n\"Nothing out there that'll keep me from a fight,\" Cullen said.\n\nCure shook his head at Cullen with awry grin. \"Stay safe, Cullen.\"\n\nCullen twisted his face as if Cure had insulted him, or he had caught a bad smell.\n\n\"Safe!\"\n\nCure rolled his eyes, then with a click he urged his horse into a canter towards the plague-ridden town, his four healers riding with him.\n\n\"Stay safe yourself,\" Cullen called out after them.\n\nCure just raised a hand in farewell."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So, let's go find these Ferals, then,\" Cullen said, grinning at them all.\n\n\"This way, this way,\" Rab squawked, flapping into the bright blue.\n\nMoonlight silvered their camp as Cullen leaned forwards and offered Drem a strip of salted pork. He took it and chewed, pulling his cloak tighter about his shoulders. Keld had forbidden afire because Rab had told them they were close, the crow spying strange movements in the scrubland and ravines only a few leagues ahead.\n\nThey had made camp in a sheltered gully beside a stream. Keld and Fen were outstanding guard somewhere in the darkness while the rest of them ate or tried to sleep. There was not much of that going round, though, except for Stepor and his two wolven-hounds. All three of them lay curled tightly together, and all of them were snoring.\n\nAlcyon the giant sat with one of his axes across his lap, sharpening it with a whetstone. Drem thought it was more habit than necessity, as Alcyon had performed the same routine every time they had made camp during the journey back to Dun Seren.\n\nTain was sitting silently beside him, looking up at the sky. It was a cloudless night, moon and stars a shimmering tapestry hanging above them.\n\nDrem's gaze shifted to Utul and Shar, who were also tending to weapons, swords and knives on their laps being oiled and scoured.\n\n\"You both look different from other warriors of the Order,\" Drem said to them.\n\nShar looked sharply at him, making him blink.\n\nDid I say that wrong? Da was always telling me I could be too straightforward. It's so hard to know without him hereto tell me. Drem felt a twist in his gut, a twinge of the always-present grief lurking deep in his bones."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Well, our skin is darker than you northerners,\" Shar said."},{"from":"gpt","value":"She looked at him stonily.\n\n\"I don't mean that,\" Drem said, trying to explain. \"There is just something about you. All of you...\" He could not put into words the quiet confidence that exuded from the warriors or the graceful way they moved.\n\n\"We are different,\" Utul said. \"We are better.\" He smiled at Cullen.\n\n\"You'll have to prove that on the weapons-field when we get back,\" Cullen told him.\n\n\"It will be my pleasure.\" Utul grinned.\n\n\"And mine,\" Shar said, though with less humour.\n\n\"Utul and his crew are different,\" Alcyon grated. \"You have good eyes to notice, little Drem.\"\n\nLittle! Lad! Why do these warriors in the Order keep calling me these names?\n\n\"How so?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"They are descended from Gar and the Jehar, and they take their lineage very seriously,\" Alcyon said, not breaking time in the rasp and grind of his whetstone.\n\n\"The Jehar?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"You've not heard of the Jehar?\" Shar said, eyes widening.\n\n\"No.\"\n\nShar tutted.\n\n\"The Jehar were the guardians of the Bright Star, of Corban,\" Alcyon said. \"Gar watched over Corban from when he was a bairn, protected him and taught him his swordcraft, and much more besides.\" Alcyon paused in his axe-sharpening, eyes distant.\n\n\"You knew them?\" Drem breathed.\n\n\"I did,\" Alcyon said. \"They were both great men.\"\n\n\"So, what were the Jehar, exactly?\" Drem asked."},{"from":"human","value":"\"The greatest of warriors,\" Shar said flatly."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Swordcraft, horsecraft, there was no one to equal them.\"\n\nAlcyon grunted and shrugged. \"Give or take a warrior or two,\" he rumbled.\n\nShar snapped her eyes on the giant.\n\n\"Veradis. Maquin, Coralen,\" Alcyon said, holding Shar's gaze.\n\nUtul shrugged. \"Two or three, then,\" he allowed.\n\n\"The Jehar came from the east,\" Tain joined their conversation. \"They lived in a fabled fortress called Telassar, the white-walled. It was there that they trained for many generations, dedicating their lives in preparation for the coming of the Bright Star.\"\n\n\"And they tested their swordcraft on the Shekam,\" Shar added.\n\n\"The Shekam?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"A giant Clan from the east,\" Tain explained. \"They rode draigs into battle, like the Jotun ride bears.\"\n\n\"Draigs!\" Drem hissed, sharing a look with Cullen. \"We met one of those in the Bonefells.\" He shook his head. \"I cannot imagine how it would feel to face a charge of them in battle.\"\n\n\"I can,\" Alcyon said, a smile twitching his moustache.\n\n\"You faced them?\" Cullen asked, leaning forwards now.\n\n\"Aye. I stood in the shield wall with Veradis.\" Alcyon nodded. \"We faced their charge.\"\n\n\"What was it like?\" Cullen asked eagerly.\n\nHe looks as if he wishes he was there!\n\nAlcyon gazed down at his axe, took in a deep breath and sighed. \"Not something I would choose to do again.\"\n\nI am not surprised by that, Drem thought, remembering the bone-shaking roar of the draig in the Bonefells. And that was just one. A charge of many would be unspeakable."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Not much chance of that,\" Tain said."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The Shekam were wiped out.\"\n\n\"No, not wiped out,\" Alcyon breathed. \"Defeated, routed. But there were survivors. I watched them ride away on their draigs.\"\n\n\"I did not know that,\" Tain said. \"It should go in the histories.\"\n\n\"It is not apart of my life that I wish to recall,\" Alcyon grated. \"They were... dark days.\"\n\n\"Does Mother know?\"\n\nMother?\n\n\"Is Tain your son?\" Drem asked Alcyon in his usual forthright way.\n\nAlcyon nodded, smiled, ruffled Tain's already-scruffy black hair. Something about the action was endearing and made Drem miss his da fora sharp heartbeat allover again.\n\n\"Does Mother know?\" Tain asked again.\n\n\"Raina knows.\" Alcyon shrugged. \"Though it would not affect her. She is in the wilds of Arcona, not Tarbesh.\"\n\n\"Tarbesh is a lot closer to Arcona than we are,\" Tain said.\n\n\"Why is your mother in Arcona?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"On a fool's errand.\" Alcyon growled, looking back to his axe.\n\n\"She is searching for survivors of our old Clan, the Kurgan,\" Tain said. \"She has been gone many years, now.\"\n\n\"Too many,\" Alcyon muttered.\n\n\"You could have gone,\" Tain said quietly. \"Should have gone.\"\n\nAlcyon stared at his son, a dark look.\n\nWings flapped from above; Rab was descending to them.\n\n\"Any news?\" Cullen asked the white crow."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Too dark,\" Rab squawked.\n\n\"Flick?\" Tain asked.\n\nRab shook his head mournfully, then tucked his beak under awing.\n\nAbruptly, Stepor sat up and looked around at them all, then up at the moon. \"Time for Keld to have a nap, I'm thinking,\" he said. He stood and clicked his tongue, his wolven-hounds\" ears pricking.\n\n\"With me,\" he said, and Grack and Ralla followed him into the night.\n\nScreams in the distance, growing louder.\n\n\"Faster, faster,\" Rab squawked at them as he winged low, then rose into the sky again, leading them onwards. Drem was riding up a shallow slope alongside Cullen and Keld, Stepor a little ahead of them. Utul and Shar rode wide on the right wing, and Alcyon and Tain were running at a startling pace on the left.\n\nA riderless horse burst over the ridge of the slope they were climbing, white-eyed and sweat-stained. It galloped down towards them, veering just in time. Drem saw bloodied claw marks staining the animal's haunch.\n\nStepor reached the ridge, Grack and Ralla either side of him, and reined in. Within heartbeats Drem, Keld and Cullen were alongside, all of them pausing to take in the scene before them. On either side Utul and Alcyon crested the ridge a heartbeat behind them.\n\nA shallow slope ran away from them, down onto an open plain. Figures moved, Drem instantly recognizing the unnatural gait of thick-muscled, long-limbed Ferals. They were circling and charging a handful of wains that were gathered in a loose half-circle, one of them overturned, one wheel slowly spinning. Figures were amongst the carts, some running, some standing, fighting. Terrible screams rang out, and Drem saw a woman burst from her cover, running hard fora slope."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A Feral appeared on the overturned wain, crouched fora moment, muscles bunching, then it leaped. It hit the ground a dozen paces behind the woman, a heartbeat later was slamming into her, both of them going down, the woman screaming, limbs flailing. The Feral's jaws opened unnaturally wide and bit down onto her face, more screams, higher in pitch, then a wet gurgling.\n\n\"Plan, boss?\" Stepor said to Keld.\n\n\"Kill the bastards,\" Keld growled and kicked his mount into a canter. Drem followed, the three of them hurtling down the slope, the three wolven-hounds ahead, growling and snarling.\n\nDrem was on the plain in a dozen heartbeats, reaching a full gallop in a dozen more.\n\nA flicker of movement in Drem's peripheral vision-Utul and Shar pulling ahead of them.\n\nA handful of Ferals bounded to meet them, their jaws and claws dripping red. They saw Utul and Shar, howled and threw themselves at the two warriors.\n\nDrem saw Utul draw his curved sword, heard him shout something.\n\n\"LASAIR,\" and then Utul's sword burst into flame.\n\n\"TRUTH AND COURAGE,\" Utul and Shar yelled as they rode at the Ferals. Utul sliced an arm from the first Feral, the stump going up inflames, the stench of burned fur and flesh sharp in the air, and then Drem was too close, dragging on his reins for his mount to turn. He pulled a hand-axe from his belt, hefted it, felt his weight shift in his saddle.\n\nI'm not used to fighting on horseback."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Keld, Cullen and Stepor rode through the line of wains a few moments ahead of him, Fen leaping and snarling.\n\nDrem made a snap decision, leaping from his saddle, hitting the ground in a stumbling run, drawing his seax with his other hand.\n\nWithin the wains all was chaos: men, women, children, all screaming, running, Ferals killing indiscriminately, small groups of survivors fighting back.\n\nGlimpses of Keld, Stepor and Cullen working together, the three wolven-hounds throwing themselves at Feral beasts, savage snarling.\n\nDrem ran towards them.\n\nA Feral looked up from feasting, jaws crimson. Drem took half of its face off with his axe, heard it yowling as he skidded to a halt, turning and stabbing with his seax. It slashed long claws at him even as its legs gave way beneath it. The claws raked Drem's chest, slicing through leather and wool, opening red lines. Drem yelled as his axe rose and fell again and again as the Feral slumped, gnashing its teeth as it died.\n\nHe stood there, breathing hard, saw the Feral had torn open a young boy. He looked away.\n\nThere was a bellow to his left as Alcyon and Tain burst through the wains, Alcyon swinging his two axes and Tain stabbing with along spear. A Feral's head spun through the air, its body running on. Tain skewered another beast with his spear, pinning it to the ground. It began to climb its way along the spear shaft towards Tain, then Alcyon's axe crunched into its head, an explosion of fur, bone and brain."},{"from":"human","value":"More screaming drew Drem's eyes."},{"from":"gpt","value":"A horse-Utul's mount-was rearing, lashing out and crunching into a Feral's chest, bones snapping. Beside Utul, Shar was laying about her with her sword. A Feral's arm flew lazily through the air.\n\nMore Ferals slammed into Utul's horse, blood spurting, the horse neighing, screaming, toppling over.\n\nDrem ran, as if in slow motion, as he saw the horse roll, pinning Utul's leg, a Feral's swipe opening the horse's belly, intestines spilling. Another Feral moving towards Utul. Shar was trying to reach him, but there were two Ferals leaping at her.\n\nThe Feral stood over Utul, afoot stamping on his sword arm, pinning it, jaws opening wide.\n\nDrem crashed into the creature, both of them tumbling to the ground, rolling. Foul breath washed over him as teeth snapped a hair's breadth from his face. He raised his knee high, managed to lever the creature away and stab with his seax, deep into its waist.\n\nThe Feral roared, teeth snapping frenziedly. Drem twisted his blade, felt blood sluice over his hand, his grip slipping. He pushed, scrambled in the dirt, managed to slide away from the beast, rolled, came to one knee and hurled his hand-axe.\n\nIt crunched into the Feral's face. The beast collapsed backwards, spasming, then was finally still.\n\nDrem staggered to his feet and wrenched his seax and axe free from the corpse.\n\nUtul was still pinned; Shar reached him at the same time as Drem. He pushed and heaved at Utul's dead horse and Shar dragged Utul free."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"My thanks,\" Utul said to Drem. He looked down at his mount and bent to lay his palm on the dead animal's side, Drem seeing tears blur the warrior's eyes.\n\n\"They shall pay for that,\" Utul snarled. He swept up his sword, which was no longer flaming, and looked around.\n\nCullen was still mounted, laying about with his sword, Keld and Stepor fighting side by side close by.\n\nDrem and the two Jehar ran to support the group, Utul limping but still bellowing a war-cry.\n\nDrem chopped his axe into the spine of a Feral rolling with Fen and ripped it free. He slashed claws that were swiping at his face, swayed away from snapping teeth and stabbed his seax up into the jaw of a Feral, felt his blade cut through the soft tissue of its mouth, on, up into its brain. He kicked the dead beast away.\n\nThen the two giants were there.\n\nDrem was chopping into the chest of a fallen Feral, axe and seax windmilling, hacking and stabbing, blood and fragments of bone spraying. Blood in his face, clouding his vision, but he kept on stabbing. Something grabbed his shoulder, shook him. He snarled as he turned, raising his blades.\n\n\"It's over, laddie,\" Alcyon said, Drem freezing, staring. He looked about, saw Alcyon was right. He glimpsed a Feral bounding away, but everywhere else the deformed creatures were still and twisted in death.\n\nDrem looked at the ring of people they had aided. Tough men and women, the type Drem was familiar with from the Desolation, weathered and hard. All were bloodied, wide-eyed and breathing hard."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"An old woman stepped out of the ring, grey hair matted, her face stained with blood and soot, clothes tattered and torn. She had a knife in one hand, a small axe in the other, like him.\n\n\"Drem, Drem, is that you?\" she called out, eyes fixing on him.\n\n\"Hildith?\" Drem said, taking a step towards her.\n\n\"Of course it's me,\" she said, brushing back strands of her matted hair and smudging soot around her face.\n\n\"We should have believed you,\" she told him grimly. \"When you came to the Assembly and warned us about the mine. You told us Olin was murdered.\" She bowed her head. \"Kergard is destroyed, they rolled through it like a plague.\" She looked up, mouth an angry, thin line. \"They burned down my mead-hall.\"\n\n\"You're safe now,\" Drem said, helping Hildith stand as she swayed and half fell onto him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha stepped into the cave mouth, Gulla at her side, Gunil behind them. It was wide and high enough for Gunil to walk comfortably without stooping.\n\nOn either side iron bars reflected torchlight, cages housing more of Fritha's Ferals. Some she could tell were obedient to her, by the way they whined and snuffled as she walked by, but others threw themselves into the bars, snapping and snarling and grasping with long talons or ruined hands.\n\nThey are not so tame.\n\nThey walked deeper into the tunnels that bored far beneath the ground, proof of their search for remnants of the starstone. They had found none, and yet fate had seen fit to give Fritha the Starstone Sword, ready-forged! It was a sign that she was following the right path, that if there was any such thing as a power looking down upon them, it was looking after her.\n\nTorches set into the rock walls sent shadows dancing, and as they descended further Fritha saw pockets of people, huddled close together, still as statues.\n\nRevenants.\n\nSome were Gulla's brood, others were Ulf's.\n\nEven though Fritha had played apart in creating them, she felt a sense of unease at the sight of them, eyes dark holes, skin stretched too tight across their bodies, revealing every line of muscle and tendon.\n\nAnd then they were walking into a circular chamber, the path leading both ways, curling around a pit, roughly as deep as two giants.\n\nFritha leaned over and saw the floor of the pit was seething, amass of furred limbs, of tooth and claw.\n\n\"You are to be commended, Priestess,\" Gulla said. \"Your breeding programme has worked.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha smiled, feeling a deep warmth for her creations. Hundreds of Ferals, if not thousands, roamed the pit, an abundance of sizes, from cub-like bairns to full-grown adults. She had hoped that they would breed, had worked words of power into her newest creations, enhancing and accelerating their reproductive and growth systems, but she had never dared to imagine that it would work this well. A stench emanated from the pit, of fur and sweat, of blood and urine and excrement, but Fritha did not care. Here and thereon the pit floor there were twisted carcasses, some little more than bones picked clean, but others were fresher, were distinguishable as various manifestations of her Ferals. She shrugged, sad to see some casualties, but it was for the survival of the strongest and the most robust. There was no room for the weak and feeble in her new order.\n\n\"There area lot of them,\" Gunil commented.\n\nFor once his declaration of the obvious did not annoy Fritha.\n\nShe smiled at Gulla and Gunil.\n\n\"Give me the Sword,\" Gulla said to Fritha.\n\nThey were standing in Gulla's chambers, another cave that burrowed far into the ground, though this one was not so deep or so crowded as the labyrinth Fritha had housed her Ferals within. Gulla's chamber was luxuriant, furs and silks draping his bed and chairs. There was also a bolthole in this tunnel, a wisp of air filtering down from Gulla's escape route if the Ben-Elim or Order of the Bright Star discovered this lair.\n\nThey are too late now.\n\nFritha rested a hand protectively on the hilt of the Starstone Sword. She did not want to give it up. It washer right. She had discovered it, schemed to steal it from Olin and Drem. It was she who had taken the risks and earned it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But more than that, she needed it.\n\n\"It is mine,\" Fritha said, daring to speak against Gulla, though his eyes bored into her. \"I was chosen for the task by the Covens.\" She remembered that fateful day, six years ago, standing within the ruins of a giant fortress, the Kadoshim gathered together for the first time since the Battle of Varan's Fall. More than five hundred Kadoshim had cast their lot.\n\n\"They voted for me,\" she repeated. \"I was given the greatest honour as a symbol of the Kadoshim's commitment to anew world, and to mankind. A covenant to build this world together, not like the Ben-Elim, as dictators, but you and your kin in harmony with mankind.\"\n\n\"Nothing has changed,\" Gulla said. \"You were chosen. You still are. But you have failed in your set task, allowed the Order to discover our existence and whereabouts. That cannot be overlooked. You must prove that our faith in you is warranted. Prove that you are worthy.\"\n\nThis was what Fritha had feared: the possibility that all that she longed for and had fought so hard for would betaken from her.\n\nI must accept his judgement. He is high captain, greatest amongst the Kadoshim until Asroth is awoken.\n\nFritha bowed her head, felt Gulla reach out a hand, long-taloned fingers caressing her shaven scalp.\n\n\"But this is not a punishment. I am setting you anew task. Accomplish it and you will still have the greatest honour. But you must fulfil your task first,\" he growled. \"If you fail it, you will be dead.\"\n\n\"What is this task, then?\" Fritha asked."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"To destroy the Order of the Bright Star.\"\n\n\"But we were to leave together, I must beat the great battle.\"\n\n\"Now Dun Seren knows we are here they will send their scouts out, their damned crows and their sharp eyes. If the mine is still and silent and the land is empty, then the Order of the Bright Star will not march north.\"\n\nHe cupped her chin, tilted her head up to hold her gaze.\n\n\"The Order must march north, must be occupied and led into the Desolation, else they will be a danger on my flank. If they did not know we were here, were unaware of our strength, then it would be different-you would be travelling at my side. But they know.\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"You must stay here, or be seen somewhere in the Desolation.\"\n\nFritha acknowledged the logic and knew that she had played apart by allowing Drem and the others to escape.\n\nBut face the Order of the Bright Star? She felt a rush of fear, and also of excitement. The most difficult of tasks, yes, but what if she succeeded? Her battle fame would live on fora thousand years.\n\nThe Order marching north, into the Desolation, away from their high walls and defences, where they will be vulnerable. Not weak. Never weak. But vulnerable.\n\nDid you plan this all along, Gulla?\n\n\"And you will have more than your Ferals at your side. I sent word south, and more acolytes have come to us, you saw many when you arrived. I will not take all of them with me. And most of all, I am leaving Ulf with you, and with him comes his brood of Revenants, all that he or his disciples have turned. His blood is spreading, infecting the Desolation.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fritha nodded, already thinking through strategies, terrain, deployment.\n\n\"It is dangerous, with no guarantee that you will succeed, and this is why you must give me the Sword,\" Gulla said. \"If you are victorious and are at the appointed place on the appointed day, then the great honour will still be yours, and all the greater for your victory. But if you are not there...\"\n\nI will do this. I will lay the Order of the Bright Star low.\n\nShe unbuckled her weapons-belt and slipped the scabbarded sword from it, held it fora moment in her hands, turning it. The leather-bound hilt was simple, unadorned, the dark metal of the pommel and cross-guard almost coal black. She half-drew the blade, the steel dull as night, seeming to suck in the light around it, a dark cloud halo pulsing, emanating from the blade.\n\nThen she slid the sword home and handed it to Gulla."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv felt a thrill of excitement as she saw the grey fortress of Dun Seren upon a hill in the distance, meadows of rich pasture rolling around it. It was past highsun, the sun dipping towards the horizon, silhouetting the tower and keep.\n\nI have heard so much of the Order of the Bright Star but only seen a few of their huntsmen in the flesh. This will bean education.\n\nShe was high in the sky amidst tattered wisps of cloud, Kol and a score of Ben-Elim around her. Her arms were goosefleshed with cold, and Riv resolved to make herself a fur-lined jerkin as soon as she possibly could. She had never flown so far or for such a prolonged time before. Five full days, from dusk until dawn, and now the muscles in her back were aching, dull and deep, but nevertheless it was glorious. She loved to fly, to feel free, all the cares of the world somehow left below her, insignificant as ants.\n\nOnly one memory from her life below had kept her company through the long days of flight, all else blurring.\n\nBleda.\n\nIf she closed her eyes, she could still feel the sensation of his lips pressed against hers, the tangle of their bodies. Just the thought of him sent moth wings fluttering in her belly. She wanted to see him, now.\n\nA shout from her right, a glance to see Kol signalling, and they began their long, sweeping descent towards Dun Seren, clouds whipping past them, the fortress growing larger. Soon Riv was speeding over outlying paddocks, herds of horses beneath them.\n\nThere must be thousands.\n\nHorns rang out from the fortress, deep and resonant, and then they were flying over Dun Seren's outer wall, afield opening up beneath them, filled with figures. Riv saw many giants scattered amongst them."},{"from":"human","value":"Is this their weapons-field?"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv was surprised to see it was close to the same size as the field at Drassil, even though Drassil as a whole dwarfed Dun Seren. And the numbers upon the field were a surprise to her, too-easily in the thousands.\n\nRarely will there be this many upon the weapons-field of Drassil atone time. They take their training seriously here.\n\nThey passed over the weapons-field, flying over sod and grey-tiled rooftops, a stream of figures hurrying along a wide road towards the keep and tower that dominated the hill of Dun Seren.\n\nWith a flurry of shifting wings they were above a courtyard and angling down, circling around a great statue of a warrior and wolven.\n\nIs that Corban and his wolven, Storm?\n\nRiv had heard tales of the founder of the Order of the Bright Star, that Corban had played some small part in the Day of Wrath, when the Ben-Elim had saved the Banished Lands from the hordes of Kadoshim that had broken out of the Otherworld.\n\nRiv followed Kol and his Ben-Elim warriors as they swirled around the statue, wings adjusting, feet dropping, and then Riv was alighting in the courtyard, her wings folding into her back, Kol and his Ben-Elim around her, masking her from view.\n\nA crowd was gathering in the courtyard, figures ranging upon the walls, more pouring in from the surrounding streets, but Riv's eyes were fixed on the stone keep before her, wide stone steps leading up to its open doors. Four figures stood at the top of the steps, three giants and a woman. Two of the giants Riv recognized: Balur One-Eye and Queen Ethlinn. The last giant was slimmer than most of his kin, a scraggly black crow perched upon his shoulder."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Is that one of Dun Seren's talking crows? Riv thought. She had met one once before, whilst in council with Israfil.\n\nFlick, I think his name was.\n\nKol strode up the steps, Riv and his Ben-Elim following.\n\nThe woman with the giants stepped forwards. She was plain and stern-faced, dressed in simple training leathers. She moved with an economical grace, a certain way about her that Riv associated with the weapons-masters at Drassil like Ert. A confidence and control of their every movement. Riv saw streaks of grey in her black hair. A curved sword jutted over one shoulder.\n\nSimilar to the Sirak's, Riv thought, although the hilt of this one is longer. A two-handed blade.\n\n\"Welcome to Dun Seren, Kol,\" the woman said.\n\n\"Greetings, Byrne,\" Kol said, a dip of his head, a shifting of his shoulders, not quite a bow. He looked to Ethlinn and Balur One-Eye, nodded a greeting to them both.\n\n\"My apologies for arriving unannounced,\" Kol said. \"But I bring momentous news from Drassil. The Lord Protector Israfil is dead.\"\n\nThere were gasps around the courtyard, but Riv kept her eyes and attention focused on Byrne, Ethlinn and Balur. Of the three of them, Balur's expression changed the most, a deep frown creasing the slabbed bones of his face.\n\n\"How?\" Ethlinn said.\n\n\"He was murdered. A conspiracy between Kadoshim and traitors. It went as deep as our own White-Wings. Garidas was chief amongst the traitors.\"\n\nBalur's frown deepened."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Riv had known how loyal Garidas was to Israfil, and if she had known, then Balur likely did, as well.\n\n\"This is shocking news,\" Byrne said, no emotion showing on her face. \"I was concerned that all was not well at Drassil.\"\n\n\"Aye, it is, which is why I have taken it upon myself to bring you the news myself. There is more you should know.\"\n\n\"Goon,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"I have been named the new Lord Protector.\"\n\n\"My congratulations,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"And one of my first acts has been to revoke the Lore against inter-relations between Ben-Elim and humankind. Riv, step forth,\" Kol called.\n\nThe Ben-Elim about Riv parted and Riv stepped forwards. She felt the courtyard go silent, thousands of eyes upon her. She hated it, hated being this focal point of ideology and belief. But she was not one to bow her head and walk meekly, so she stood straight and tall and strode to stand beside Kol. Her eyes she kept fixed on Byrne, and when Riv reached Kol's side she snapped her wings open, made them beat, once, slowly, then furled them back in again.\n\nThe silence lengthened.\n\n\"Clearly, we need to talk,\" Byrne said.\n\nRiv followed Kol into a high-vaulted room, afire-pit roaring, a table beyond it surrounded with high-backed chairs. Byrne led them to the table, gesturing for Kol and Riv to sit.\n\nBalur and Ethlinn entered the room, the other giant with the crow upon his shoulder following them. They all took seats around the table, silent while Byrne poured warm mead for them all."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Keep the narrative going for the author.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\\nAuthor: John Gwynne\\nTitle: A Time of Blood\\nChapter: 36\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Who were they?\\\" Hadran asked.\\n\\n\\\"I saw Kadoshim flying above us like great bats.\\\"\\n\\nKamael spat a curse when the Kadoshim were mentioned.\\n\\n\\\"They were not alone; there were men and women with them, shaven-haired fanatics, but there were other... things... as well. Part man, part beast, that killed with claw and fang, not sword and spear.\\\"\\n\\nBleda remembered the Feral beast-men that had attacked Drassil. He remembered putting arrows into one, seeing it fall and rise again, ripping arrows from its body, charging at him in a snarling, berserker rage.\\n\\nHe shivered.\\n\\n\\\"And there were other things with them. Human inform but, believe me, human they were not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What do you mean? Speak clearer,\\\" Kamael the Ben-Elim said.\\n\\n\\\"They are difficult to describe, unless you see them, but perhaps this is clear enough for you,\\\" Uldin said, nodding to his honour guard with the sack. The warrior stepped forwards and emptied its contents on the ground.\\n\\nA severed head rolled across the stones, strips of skin, flesh and gristle draping from its neck. It was a woman, Bleda thought, though it was hard to tell. Her face looked malformed, eyes sunken, the skin stretched too tight, its mouth misshapen. Her lips were fixed in a savage rictus of a snarl, revealing a mouth that looked too big for the face it was set within, and either side of its elongated canines were rows of sharp, needle-like teeth.\\n\\nBleda resisted the urge to take a step away from the severed head.\\n\\n\\\"What is that?\\\" Hadran said, moving closer and leaning in fora better look.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I do not know, but they are hard to kill,\\\" Uldin said. \\\"A dozen arrows, a spear in its belly, but only when I took this one's head did it stop trying to sink its teeth into me.\\\"\\n\\nErdene stood and nudged it with her toe, sending it rolling in an arc across the stones.\\n\\n\\\"This is intolerable,\\\" Kamael said. \\\"Kadoshim and their followers so close to Drassil. We must send out the White-Wings.\\\" He looked to Hadran, and Bleda realized that Kamael did not have the authority to order such a campaign.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Hadran said. \\\"We shall muster the White-Wings and fly outwith them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"White-Wings, on foot?\\\" Uldin said. \\\"Better to send your giants on their bears. White-Wings would take a moon to walk the journey we have ridden since we were attacked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ethlinn and Balur One-Eye are not here,\\\" Hadran said. \\\"They are at Dun Seren.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Send for them,\\\" Kamael said.\\n\\n\\\"Dun Seren is the opposite direction,\\\" Hadran said. \\\"Word must be sent to Kol, but it is too far for Ethlinn and her bear-riders to reach us and then march on this new threat. Might as well send out the White-Wings as wait for the giants to arrive.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But we cannot do nothing,\\\" Kamael said. \\\"The Kadoshim, so close.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We will fly out,\\\" Hadran said. \\\"There are more Ben-Elim gathered at Drassil now than there have been for fifty years.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But Forn is a mask from above. Remember Varan's Fall, the ambush in the trees. We need eyes and swords on the ground,\\\" Kamael said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I cannot conjure what does not exist,\\\" Hadran snapped. \\\"The choice is fly quick or march slow with the White-Wings.\\\"\\n\\nBleda looked at his mother. \\\"I have seen the Kadoshim, fought their Feral beasts. They are an evil that must be stopped.\\\"\\n\\nErdene looked at Bleda along moment.\\n\\n\\\"I will lead the Sirak out,\\\" Erdene said. \\\"I have half a thousand riders here. We shall ride out and meet this threat. We shall be your swords and eyes on the ground.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I shall ride with you,\\\" Uldin said.\\n\\n\\\"You are recently wounded,\\\" Hadran pointed out.\\n\\n\\\"I will ride with Erdene,\\\" Uldin said. \\\"We are to be one Clan, soon, I know, but I would not have the Sirak steal the battle glory from us. The Cheren will ride to battle.\\\" He touched the stitched wound across his forehead. \\\"Besides, I have a score to settle.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Drem stepped out onto Dun Seren's weapons-field and paused, blinking at the enormity of it. It was only a little past dawn, the sun pale and fresh, painting the field in long shadows and hues of amber.\\n\\nPeople were everywhere. Thousands, it felt like-more people than Drem had ever seen in anyone place in all of his life. It was overwhelming. He raised a hand to find the pulse in his neck.\\n\\n\\\"Come on,\\\" Cullen called back to him, the red-haired warrior strutting onto the field, looking for all the world as if it belonged to him. Cullen glanced back at Drem, saw him hovering at the entrance to the field, and walked back to him.\\n\\n\\\"You've fought draigs, wyrms, Feral beasts. And a mad witch. This is nothing,\\\" Cullen said, wrapping an arm around Drem's shoulders and steering him onto the field. Drem allowed himself to be led, though he wasn't sure he agreed.\\n\\nI feel more comfortable in the wild.\\n\\nCullen steered Drem through a knot of giants sparring with wooden hammers and axes, the ground shaking as they crashed into each other, and then beyond them towards where the main mass of people were gathered, more joining them with every moment.\\n\\nByrne stood at their head, with two others beside her, a squat and muscular man and a tall, dark-skinned woman.\\n\\nByrne looked very different from the kindly aunt who had comforted him only a day ago, dressed now in simple working leathers, her hair tied back severely to show her sharp-angled face. The other two were dressed similarly. The tall woman looked at Drem as he followed Cullen.\\n\\n\\\"Who are they?\\\" Drem whispered to Cullen.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Those with Byrne, they're Kill and Cure,\\\" Cullen said.\\n\\n\\\"Eh?\\\" Drem frowned.\\n\\n\\\"Byrne's two captains,\\\" Cullen said. \\\"A quick history lesson is needed, I think, else you'll go embarrassing yourself, and that will make me look bad.\\\" He grinned at Drem's confused expression. \\\"This Order was founded in remembrance of two people, Brina and Gar, Corban's dearest friends. They fell in the battle on the Day of Wrath, and Corban swore to honour and remember them.\\\" Cullen gestured at Dun Seren. \\\"This is how he did it, by building this place. Not just the walls and towers, but the people you see around you. Gar was a warrior, Corban's teacher, and Brina was a healer. So here at Dun Seren Corban founded an order dedicated to both arts. How to kill, and how to cure. We learn both here, and so there are two captains-one to oversee each discipline. Kill and Cure.\\\" Cullen pointed at the man and woman with Byrne.\\n\\n\\\"Ah, so those aren't their real names, then?\\\" Drem asked.\\n\\n\\\"Ha, no, but they might as well be. No one calls them by anything else, now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So...\\\" Drem began.\\n\\n\\\"More questions later,\\\" Cullen said as he took a place in the lines, beckoning Drem to stand beside him. \\\"No more time now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What are we doing?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is the Order of the Bright Star, how else do you think we'd start the day? Not too close, now,\\\" Cullen said, \\\"else you'll end up slicing someone's body parts off.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Eh?\\\" Drem said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then he saw Byrne draw the curved sword from her back, holding it loosely.\\n\\nDrem realized what they were doing.\\n\\nThe sword dance.\\n\\n\\\"Stooping falcon,\\\" Byrne called out, raising her sword two-handed over her head.\\n\\nDrem drew his father's sword, his sword now, set his feet and raised the blade high.\\n\\n\\\"Lightning strike,\\\" Byrne called out and over a thousand swords slashed down, diagonally, right to left, the sound of it like a high wind passing through the gullies of the Bonefells. It was exhilarating.\\n\\nThey held the pose for long moments, sweat dappling Drem's brow, steaming in the morning's chill air.\\n\\n\\\"Boar's tusk,\\\" Byrne cried out, all those gathered on the field taking a step and stabbing forwards, low to high, legs bent, arms extended. Holding the pose again, muscles beginning to burn in thigh and back, shoulder and wrist.\\n\\n\\\"Iron gate,\\\" Byrne cried. Drem took a step back, bringing his sword across his body, a diagonal defence.\\n\\n\\\"Scorpion's tail,\\\" called Byrne, and Drem dropped into a squatting stance, one hand in front for balance, his blade above his head and behind, parallel to the ground, like a scorpion's tail about to strike.\\n\\nAll around him men and women were doing the same, and as Byrne called the forms Drem heard his father's voice and imagined his mother and father working through the sword dance, on this very field, just as he was now.\\n\\nThere was a comfort in that, something warm and satisfying.\\n\\nBefore he realized, it was over, people all around him were sheathing their blades, Cullen stepping over to slap him on the shoulder.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Come on, don't let the sweat dry,\\\" Cullen said. He laughed as Drem fumbled sheathing his sword and then led Drem away from the centre ground, towards racks of wooden weapons.\\n\\nAll around the field groups gathered indifferent disciplines. Some stood in a loose-ordered line, four ranks deep, with the Order's round shields on their arm. A command was shouted and the ranks closed up, shields coming together with aloud snap, forming a wall of wood andiron.\\n\\nBeyond them riders galloped, swords slicing at fruit on stands. Elsewhere a warrior ran alongside a cantering horse, grabbed its saddle and leaped into the air, swinging himself up onto the horse's back, grabbing reins and urging the horse to a gallop.\\n\\n\\\"The running mount,\\\" Cullen said.\\n\\n\\\"That's amazing,\\\" Drem told him.\\n\\n\\\"Part of every warrior's training here. Fail that and you fail your warrior trial.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You can do that?\\\" Drem asked Cullen.\\n\\n\\\"Oh aye, of course I can.\\\" Cullen grinned.\\n\\nDrem shook his head, continued looking around. He saw giants on bears, archers loosing at straw targets, another group of warriors practising with the lead-weighted nets Drem had seen Cullen use on the Kadoshim half-breed.\\n\\nEverywhere, the art of killing was being rehearsed.\\n\\nCullen hefted a few wooden swords, then put them back, finally settling on one for himself and for Drem.\\n\\n\\\"Sword belt off,\\\" Cullen said as he unbuckled his own weapons-belt and lay it alongside a rack of other scabbarded swords. \\\"It's wood for sparring, not steel.\\\" He threw Drem a wooden practice sword. Drem caught it, to his surprise found it was heavier than his sword. He questioned Cullen about it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"These wooden blades are drilled out, hollowed, and then lead poured inside,\\\" Cullen said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Train hard, fight easy.\\\" He smiled. \\\"After a moon in the field with this you'll feel as if you're wielding a feather when you use your blades of steel. And you'll have wrists and arms of iron.\\\"\\n\\nAnd then Cullen came at Drem, using the forms they'd just practised in the sword dance, pausing between almost every strike, talking to Drem about his stance, his footwork, describing how he should blend it all into defence and attack.\\n\\nCullen started slowly, explaining the theory of every strike and defence after he executed them, but as time went on his attacks became faster, then combinations of blows, and Drem found himself sweating, managing to defend a few blows, but always the end was the same, Cullen's sword giving him a bruise, or a touch to neck, heart or groin.\\n\\nCullen stabbed at Drem's shoulder; as Drem swept his sword to block the blow, Cullen twisted his wrist, dropped his sword below Drem's parry and stabbed him in the belly.\\n\\nI am dead a hundred times already.\\n\\nAs they sparred Drem became aware of people gathering around them, of eyes on him.\\n\\n\\\"The power in a strike does not come from your arms alone,\\\" Cullen said to Drem. \\\"It's more legs and hips exploding up, into and through your arms. And little steps,\\\" Cullen added. \\\"Never over-extend. Lose your balance, lose your head.\\\" He grinned again, luring Drem into a lunge that ended with Cullen's sword on the back of Drem's neck.\\n\\n\\\"Drem, try fighting him with these,\\\" a voice called out, and Drem turned, saw Keld throwing objects at him. Instinctively he caught the first, dropped his sword and caught the second. Looking in his hands he had wooden versions of a short-sword and axe.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Closest thing I could find to the seax Olin forged for you,\\\" Keld said. \\\"Now put Cullen on his arse.\\\"\\n\\nDrem nodded his thanks. He didn't really know what was expected of these weapons, had not learned any forms with them. But he was used to them, familiar through over a decade of use, even if it was only through trapping and hunting. And he had used them against Fritha and her Ferals.\\n\\nNot that that turned out too well.\\n\\nHe glimpsed giants in the crowd around him, Balur and Alcyon therewith Tain the crow master, all watching him and Cullen, and amongst them, Byrne, arms folded across her chest, face set in stern lines. A handful of women were all staring at Cullen, who was blowing them a kiss.\\n\\nDrem set his feet, short-sword in his right hand, axe in his left.\\n\\nCullen grinned at him, circling, Drem shifting to face him.\\n\\nCullen lunged in, sword snaking out, cutting at Drem's shoulder. Drem's axe swept the blow wide, but somehow Cullen twisted his wrist, his sword suddenly below Drem's axe and it was cutting in at his ribs. Drem threw himself backwards, narrowly avoiding the blow. Cullen was grinning, ear to ear, and striding at him. Drem retreated, a flurry of clacks as he managed to block a torrent of blows.\\n\\nHe didn't know how long it went on for, only that his lungs were burning as he instinctively tried to stay alive a few heartbeats longer. The fact that Cullen was pausing fora heartbeat here and thereto lavish a smile on someone in the crowd, or to wink at some female, gave him a few moments of recovery. Thoughts began to filter into his mind-Drem's logic analysing how he was being manoeuvred and out-skilled.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He is dictating this, while all I do is defend.\\n\\n\\\"Get in close,\\\" a voice called out, Keld, Drem thought.\\n\\nHe's right, Cullen has the advantage of reach with his sword. If I am to score a hit, I must get closer to him.\\n\\nAnd then Cullen was stepping in, a stab at Drem's shoulder. Drem made to block it, recognized the feint Cullen had used on him when he had been using his practice sword. He parried with his axe, at the last moment dropping the angle, catching and hooking Cullen's blade as it made to sweep under his arm.\\n\\nThere was a moment's surprise on Cullen's face, his grin wavering as Drem dragged him off balance. Drem stepped in and then his short-sword was at Cullen's throat.\\n\\n\\\"Ha, Cullen's dead,\\\" a voice called out, Stepor, perhaps. Cullen was standing frozen still, just staring at Drem, a shocked expression on the young warrior's face. Then he was moving back, holding his hands in the air.\\n\\n\\\"Well, aren't I the arsewipe,\\\" Cullen said, a smile splitting his face. He looked at the crowd gathered about them. \\\"That'll teach me to underestimate a foe.\\\" He looked at Keld and Stepor, who were laughing hard. \\\"Thought I'd say that before you two did,\\\" Cullen said to them, which made them laugh all the harder.\\n\\nDrem looked around the crowd, saw Byrne staring at him. She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. A ghost of a smile, then she was moving on, talking to another pair who were sparring, checking and adjusting their stances.\\n\\n\\\"Come on, Drem, my lad,\\\" Cullen said. \\\"Let's see how you get on with a shield in your hand.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I wish he'd stop calling me lad.\\n\\nA noise drew Drem's attention; people were stopping in their training and pausing to stare towards the entrance field. Drem looked, too, and saw a group of men and women walking onto the field, a hundred of them at least.\\n\\nThey walked with the self-assured confidence of warriors, a harnessed grace about them, an air of violence. All were clothed in dark breeches and shirts of mail beneath hard-boiled leather cuirasses.\\n\\nThey were clearly warriors of the Order, as all of them wore the bright star emblazoned upon their cuirasses, but to Drem they looked startlingly different to the other warriors in the field. They were dark-skinned, all with long, jet-black hair tied at the nape, and all wore curved, two-handed swords across their backs.\\n\\nLike Byrne's.\\n\\nCheers rang out to welcome these newcomers.\\n\\nA man led them, dressed the same, with a hooked nose that reminded Drem of a hawk. His dark hair was streaked with grey and silver, but something about him set him apart from the others. Perhaps it was the way he was smiling, nodding and raising a hand to the greetings echoing out. Or maybe it was the way he seemed to all but glide across the ground, his movements fluid and contained.\\n\\n\\\"Who are they?\\\" Drem asked Cullen.\\n\\n\\\"That's Utul and his crew, answering the call to muster, I'd guess,\\\" Cullen said. \\\"Not bad in a scrap, is Utul. Not as handy to have around as me, of course, but not bad. He's captain of the Order's garrison in Balara.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Balara?\\\" Drem asked, the name vaguely familiar to him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Aye.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"An old giant fortress far to the south, on the coast of the Tethys Sea.\\\"\\n\\nThat's along way from here, if my lessons were taught right, Drem thought.\\n\\nClose by, the giant Tain looked up, shielding his eyes to stare. A shape was approaching in the northern sky, a pale pinprick that grew, squawking and croaking as it descended down to the weapons-field.\\n\\nRab alighted on Tain's outstretched arm.\\n\\n\\\"What news, Rab?\\\" Byrne asked as she approached, Kill and Cure either side of her.\\n\\n\\\"Death in the north,\\\" the crow squawked. \\\"People running, hunted by Twisted men.\\\"\\n\\nDrem felt his back stiffen. That was the name Rab had given the Ferals.\\n\\n\\\"They need help,\\\" Rab squawked.\\n\\nByrne looked to Keld and Stepor.\\n\\n\\\"Let's go get them,\\\" Cullen said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha tapped heels against her stolen horse, urging it into a canter as she turned a corner in the road and saw Starstone Lake appear before her, its dark waters glittering in the bright sunlight. Ina cluster upon its northern bank squatted the mine, the sight of it setting off an abundance of memories for Fritha.\\n\\nThis is where it all began. My creations. Making new life. Absently she put a hand to her belly, fora heartbeat could almost remember what it had been like to hold anew life within her, to feel it growing, changing.\\n\\nThe most wonderful feeling in the world.\\n\\nAnd the Ben-Elim tainted that for me.\\n\\nTo her left, woodland spread as far as her eye could see, sweeping up to the foothills of the Bonefells. The last time she had been here the landscape was snowbound, but now spring was asserting its grip upon the land. Snow still clung stubbornly to the trees, but it was melting, boughs creaking as the weight upon them shifted, new streams of snowmelt winding their way into the lake.\\n\\nThe gates to the mine opened as she approached; Fritha rode through first, nodding a greeting to the men and women manning the gates, part of her Red Right Hand that she had left behind.\\n\\nA shadow skimmed the ground and Fritha looked up and saw Morn sweeping low over the mine, circling down towards the central square, where Fritha's table was set.\\n\\nFritha led her column through the complex towards its centre, where the cave-riddled boulder of granite reared. Shaven-haired men and women greeted Fritha, acolytes she recognized, and others she did not.\\n\\nMore that have answered Gulla's call.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As she rode on she saw people everywhere, a frenetic energy in the air.\\n\\nSomething is happening.\\n\\nElsewhere were groups of men and women, standing in huddled masses. Fritha's eye was drawn to them. Hair matted and unkempt, clothes lank, torn, arms hanging limp at their sides. They were standing perfectly, unnaturally still. The acolytes seemed to avoid these groups, swirling past them like water parting for rocks in a stream.\\n\\nSpace opened around Fritha as she rode her horse into the clearing before the boulder, a gesture ordering her column to halt in the shadows of a street. Her bloodstained table dominated the open space, wide and deep, iron hooks and chains littered upon its surface, and beyond it was Gulla, High Captain of the Kadoshim.\\n\\nHe stood tall and broad, leathery wings folded and arching behind each shoulder, his face all sharp angles and tight skin, the gaping socket where the white crow had taken his eye a dark, skin-puckered hole. When he moved there was a shimmer of darkness around him, a black nimbus.\\n\\nA figure stood behind him, unnaturally still. It took a moment to recognize him as Ulf the tanner of Kergard.\\n\\nNo, no longer Ulf the tanner. Now he is Ulf the Revenant, one of the Seven.\\n\\nHe was thinner than Fritha remembered, his face gaunt, features chiselled, with deep pools of shadow around his eyes and cheeks. A smear of something dark and crusted ran from his lip to his chin.\\n\\nGulla strode around the table and stood before Fritha as she reined in and dismounted, one of her Red Right Hand hurrying over to take her reins and lead her horse away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Morn swept down from the sky, landing beside Fritha, and together they dropped to one knee, bowing their heads before Gulla.\\n\\n\\\"Greetings, my daughter,\\\" Gulla said, and Fritha heard Morn stand.\\n\\n\\\"Father,\\\" said Morn. An embrace.\\n\\n\\\"Priestess, where are those I sent you out to capture?\\\" Gulla said, his voice sounding as if it hissed and scratched inside Fritha's skull.\\n\\n\\\"Forgive me, Lord,\\\" Fritha said. She paused, struggling with the words she was about to say. Knew she had to say. \\\"I have failed you.\\\"\\n\\nFritha left a silence as Gulla stared at her.\\n\\n\\\"The huntsman, versed in the earth power, and Cullen, descendant of Corban, both slipped through your fingers,\\\" Gulla said quietly, dangerously.\\n\\nFritha gulped. \\\"But I have brought you gifts,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"Gifts,\\\" Gulla said. \\\"They must be great indeed to make your failure fade.\\\" A brush of his fingertips upon her shoulder bidding her to rise.\\n\\nFritha felt her blood burn at his words as she stood.\\n\\nFailure.\\n\\n\\\"Behold,\\\" Fritha said, gesturing behind her and turning.\\n\\nA shouted command, the crack of a whip and her column rolled into the space.\\n\\nFirst came a dozen of her Red Right Hand, all on stolen mounts, and swirling at their flanks were her Ferals, loping, some on two legs, others using their extended arms as extra legs. They all filed left or right, making way for Gunil upon his giant bear, dipping his head to Gulla as he reined in. Claw was pulling a travois with a cage upon it, sheets of stitched hide covering its contents. Fritha heard a sibilant hissing from within the cage and smiled. Her wyrm was still alive, stronger than it had been.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Behind the bear and the cage a wain was being pulled by a harnessed bull auroch, its chest as broad as the wain. Its head reared up as Arn touched its flanks with a whip and it let out a mournful bellow. On the bench seat beside Arn stood another cage, far smaller than the one that contained the wyrm. The crow from Dun Seren sat upon a perch, head bowed, feathers ruffled and shoulders hunched as its intelligent eyes swivelled back and forth, taking in all it could see of the mine.\\n\\nHe is a nosy bird, perfect for being a spy of the Order.\\n\\nThe crow's eyes touched on Gulla and froze, staring.\\n\\nIn the back of the wain lay Elise, pale and sweat-stained, and beside her one last cage, this one larger than the crow's cage, smaller than the wyrm's, and in it was Fritha's draig. She could hear it snoring as the cart rolled to a halt before her.\\n\\nAll he does is sleep and eat, thought Fritha affectionately.\\n\\nAnother wain rumbled along behind Arn's, this one full with people they had taken on their journey back to the mine. Some were from the hold Fritha had taken to contact Gulla, the rest from holds they'd encountered during their return journey.\\n\\nAnother gift for Gulla, to appease him for my failure.\\n\\nBehind this vehicle the last of her Red Right Hand rode. The stolen mounts and wains had speeded their journey back to the mine considerably. That and the fact that they could cut straight across the Desolation, instead of following the protracted route through the Bonefells that they had taken in pursuit of Drem and his companions.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha approached the cage harnessed to Gunil's bear. She undid the knots that tied the hide covering to the cage's bars, then grabbed a fistful of the hide and pulled it free.\\n\\nThe white wyrm reared on its coils, head weaving. It was still not healed, some of its wounds leaking a stinking pus, but it had returned from the shade of death. A rattling hiss emanated from its throat as it bared long fangs at Fritha.\\n\\n\\\"A wyrm, survivor of the breed created by the giants in their War of Treasures,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"We thought them long dead, but I bring you one, my Lord.\\\" She bowed.\\n\\n\\\"Impressive,\\\" Gulla said, leaning close to the bars.\\n\\nThe wyrm's head darted forward, as big as a shield, then froze, its tongue darting out, tasting the air. A ripple as it slithered away, pressed its bulk against the bars at the back of the cage, away from Gulla.\\n\\n\\\"It fears you, my Lord,\\\" Fritha said. \\\"As is only right.\\\"\\n\\nGulla smiled.\\n\\n\\\"And I bring you this,\\\" Fritha said, walking away from the wyrm's cage, towards Arn's wain. The draig was awake in its cage now, grown already, roughly the size of a war-hound, though lower to the ground, but broader across the chest and shoulders. It scuttled over to Fritha as she approached the bars, mouth open, and she reached into a bucket and pulled out a still-dripping liver, cut from an elk that her Ferals had tracked and brought down that morning. She threw it into the cage and the draig set to ripping it apart, swallowing great chunks of it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Gulla drew near and it stopped its feasting, one taloned foot on its food, and growled at Gulla. A deep rumbling in its belly, like gravel sliding down a slope.\\n\\n\\\"It has more courage than your wyrm,\\\" Gulla observed. \\\"Or less intelligence.\\\"\\n\\nHe stepped closer to Fritha and the draig threw itself at the bars, crunching into them, wood bending, cracking, jaws and claws reaching for Gulla, but the cage held.\\n\\n\\\"I don't think he likes you,\\\" Gunil observed from the back of his bear.\\n\\nFritha shot Gunil a dark look.\\n\\n\\\"The draig has bonded tome, my Lord. He has an acute sense of loyalty.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not a fault,\\\" Gulla said. \\\"I like it. Use it well.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And my last gift to you, my Lord,\\\" Fritha said, gesturing to the crow in its cage beside Arn.\\n\\nGulla looked at Fritha, an eyebrow raised.\\n\\n\\\"A crow?\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"Look closer,\\\" Fritha said.\\n\\nGulla leaned in, peering at the crow, which shuffled on its perch, ruffling its feathers.\\n\\n\\\"Kadoshim, badman,\\\" the crow muttered.\\n\\nGulla smiled.\\n\\n\\\"This is Flick, a crow of Dun Seren,\\\" Fritha said.\\n\\n\\\"I think you must have much to tell me, Flick of Dun Seren,\\\" Gulla said.\\n\\nFlick hopped on his perch.\\n\\n\\\"Tell badman nothing,\\\" Flick croaked.\\n\\n\\\"We shall see.\\\" Gulla smiled, then looked to Fritha. \\\"You have done well, Priestess. Maybe not redeemed yourself, quite. But well enough.\\\" His look darkened. \\\"Dun Seren will know of us by now. They will march onus.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They will, my Lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We must be ready,\\\" Gulla growled. \\\"A hundred and thirty years of war in these Banished Lands, coming down to these few last moons.\\\" He looked at Fritha, long and appraising. Then at the wains and beasts in their cages.\\n\\n\\\"And these?\\\" he said, waving his hand at the score of prisoners.\\n\\n\\\"Recruits.\\\" Fritha shrugged. \\\"Acolytes, or perhaps to feed your new thirst. Or that of the Seven.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Seven I have sent out,\\\" Gulla said. \\\"All but Ulf, who has a purpose here.\\\"\\n\\nFritha looked beyond Gulla to Ulf, standing perfectly still, like a carven statue behind her table.\\n\\n\\\"I thank you for these gifts you bring tome, and yet I seethe light in your eyes, Priestess,\\\" Gulla said. \\\"I see your greed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They are for you, to help you win this war. But if I worked with them a little, made them into something new, I am certain they would be of greater use...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very well, then,\\\" Gulla said. \\\"Work your magic with them.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hooves clattered on stone as Drem rode across the bridge that led away from Dun Seren and back into the Desolation. Beside him was Keld, sitting easily on a dappled mare, Fen loping ahead with Stepor's wolven-hounds, Grack and Ralla.\\n\\n\\\"Thank you,\\\" Drem said to the huntsman.\\n\\n\\\"What for?\\\" Keld frowned.\\n\\n\\\"Speaking for me.\\\"\\n\\nWhen Drem had heard Rab's news of people being hunted by Ferals he had instinctively volunteered to ride outwith Keld. The huntsman had been given the task of putting together a scouting party to try and find them before it was too late. Drem didn't like the thought of riding into battle and violence, but he knew better than most what the Ferals were capable of and the devastation they could cause.\\n\\nByrne had pursed her lips, not happy at Drem riding back into the Desolation.\\n\\n\\\"You have been here little more than a day,\\\" she had said.\\n\\n\\\"Drem'd be welcome in my crew,\\\" Keld had replied. \\\"He's as fine a huntsman as you'll find.\\\"\\n\\nByrne had given Keld astern look but she had not refused him.\\n\\n\\\"Meant what I said,\\\" Keld replied. \\\"You area fine huntsman. But more than that, I trust you with my back.\\\"\\n\\nCullen's laugh rose up behind them, and Drem twisted in his saddle to look back.\\n\\nThe red-haired warrior was riding alongside two of the warriors from Balara in the south, Utul, their captain, and a woman named Shar. Cullen and Utul were laughing about something, the woman stern-faced and unamused. Behind them were five more riders-the man named Cure with four more healers. They were riding to Dalgarth, the traders' town, as the plague there was rumoured to be worsening.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Last of all, two giants towered at the rear of their small party, Alcyon with his twin axes slung behind his shoulders and Tain the crow master striding beside him.\\n\\nDrem looked at the bulk of Dun Seren rearing behind them and breathed a sigh of relief to be out in the open again. While he already felt a fond sentiment for the fortress because of his parents and now Byrne, the sheer numbers of those living within its walls were not the easiest thing for him to deal with. Almost all of his life he had lived alone, just his da and the wilderness for company, so Dun Seren was overwhelming.\\n\\nHe turned and set his face to the north, to the rolling terrain and wide blue sky.\\n\\n\\\"We'll be leaving you now,\\\" Cure said as Dalgarth came into view. He was a squat, muscled man who looked more suited to the pugil ring than healing, but there was a steady kindness in his gaze that had Drem trusting him almost instantly.\\n\\n\\\"Ride wide around the town,\\\" Cure said to Keld and Stepor. \\\"Take no risks. I'd not have you on a sickbed when there's fighting to be done.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nothing out there that'll keep me from a fight,\\\" Cullen said.\\n\\nCure shook his head at Cullen with awry grin. \\\"Stay safe, Cullen.\\\"\\n\\nCullen twisted his face as if Cure had insulted him, or he had caught a bad smell.\\n\\n\\\"Safe!\\\"\\n\\nCure rolled his eyes, then with a click he urged his horse into a canter towards the plague-ridden town, his four healers riding with him.\\n\\n\\\"Stay safe yourself,\\\" Cullen called out after them.\\n\\nCure just raised a hand in farewell.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So, let's go find these Ferals, then,\\\" Cullen said, grinning at them all.\\n\\n\\\"This way, this way,\\\" Rab squawked, flapping into the bright blue.\\n\\nMoonlight silvered their camp as Cullen leaned forwards and offered Drem a strip of salted pork. He took it and chewed, pulling his cloak tighter about his shoulders. Keld had forbidden afire because Rab had told them they were close, the crow spying strange movements in the scrubland and ravines only a few leagues ahead.\\n\\nThey had made camp in a sheltered gully beside a stream. Keld and Fen were outstanding guard somewhere in the darkness while the rest of them ate or tried to sleep. There was not much of that going round, though, except for Stepor and his two wolven-hounds. All three of them lay curled tightly together, and all of them were snoring.\\n\\nAlcyon the giant sat with one of his axes across his lap, sharpening it with a whetstone. Drem thought it was more habit than necessity, as Alcyon had performed the same routine every time they had made camp during the journey back to Dun Seren.\\n\\nTain was sitting silently beside him, looking up at the sky. It was a cloudless night, moon and stars a shimmering tapestry hanging above them.\\n\\nDrem's gaze shifted to Utul and Shar, who were also tending to weapons, swords and knives on their laps being oiled and scoured.\\n\\n\\\"You both look different from other warriors of the Order,\\\" Drem said to them.\\n\\nShar looked sharply at him, making him blink.\\n\\nDid I say that wrong? Da was always telling me I could be too straightforward. It's so hard to know without him hereto tell me. Drem felt a twist in his gut, a twinge of the always-present grief lurking deep in his bones.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Well, our skin is darker than you northerners,\\\" Shar said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She looked at him stonily.\\n\\n\\\"I don't mean that,\\\" Drem said, trying to explain. \\\"There is just something about you. All of you...\\\" He could not put into words the quiet confidence that exuded from the warriors or the graceful way they moved.\\n\\n\\\"We are different,\\\" Utul said. \\\"We are better.\\\" He smiled at Cullen.\\n\\n\\\"You'll have to prove that on the weapons-field when we get back,\\\" Cullen told him.\\n\\n\\\"It will be my pleasure.\\\" Utul grinned.\\n\\n\\\"And mine,\\\" Shar said, though with less humour.\\n\\n\\\"Utul and his crew are different,\\\" Alcyon grated. \\\"You have good eyes to notice, little Drem.\\\"\\n\\nLittle! Lad! Why do these warriors in the Order keep calling me these names?\\n\\n\\\"How so?\\\" Drem asked.\\n\\n\\\"They are descended from Gar and the Jehar, and they take their lineage very seriously,\\\" Alcyon said, not breaking time in the rasp and grind of his whetstone.\\n\\n\\\"The Jehar?\\\" Drem asked.\\n\\n\\\"You've not heard of the Jehar?\\\" Shar said, eyes widening.\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\nShar tutted.\\n\\n\\\"The Jehar were the guardians of the Bright Star, of Corban,\\\" Alcyon said. \\\"Gar watched over Corban from when he was a bairn, protected him and taught him his swordcraft, and much more besides.\\\" Alcyon paused in his axe-sharpening, eyes distant.\\n\\n\\\"You knew them?\\\" Drem breathed.\\n\\n\\\"I did,\\\" Alcyon said. \\\"They were both great men.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So, what were the Jehar, exactly?\\\" Drem asked.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The greatest of warriors,\\\" Shar said flatly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Swordcraft, horsecraft, there was no one to equal them.\\\"\\n\\nAlcyon grunted and shrugged. \\\"Give or take a warrior or two,\\\" he rumbled.\\n\\nShar snapped her eyes on the giant.\\n\\n\\\"Veradis. Maquin, Coralen,\\\" Alcyon said, holding Shar's gaze.\\n\\nUtul shrugged. \\\"Two or three, then,\\\" he allowed.\\n\\n\\\"The Jehar came from the east,\\\" Tain joined their conversation. \\\"They lived in a fabled fortress called Telassar, the white-walled. It was there that they trained for many generations, dedicating their lives in preparation for the coming of the Bright Star.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And they tested their swordcraft on the Shekam,\\\" Shar added.\\n\\n\\\"The Shekam?\\\" Drem asked.\\n\\n\\\"A giant Clan from the east,\\\" Tain explained. \\\"They rode draigs into battle, like the Jotun ride bears.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Draigs!\\\" Drem hissed, sharing a look with Cullen. \\\"We met one of those in the Bonefells.\\\" He shook his head. \\\"I cannot imagine how it would feel to face a charge of them in battle.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can,\\\" Alcyon said, a smile twitching his moustache.\\n\\n\\\"You faced them?\\\" Cullen asked, leaning forwards now.\\n\\n\\\"Aye. I stood in the shield wall with Veradis.\\\" Alcyon nodded. \\\"We faced their charge.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What was it like?\\\" Cullen asked eagerly.\\n\\nHe looks as if he wishes he was there!\\n\\nAlcyon gazed down at his axe, took in a deep breath and sighed. \\\"Not something I would choose to do again.\\\"\\n\\nI am not surprised by that, Drem thought, remembering the bone-shaking roar of the draig in the Bonefells. And that was just one. A charge of many would be unspeakable.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Not much chance of that,\\\" Tain said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The Shekam were wiped out.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, not wiped out,\\\" Alcyon breathed. \\\"Defeated, routed. But there were survivors. I watched them ride away on their draigs.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I did not know that,\\\" Tain said. \\\"It should go in the histories.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is not apart of my life that I wish to recall,\\\" Alcyon grated. \\\"They were... dark days.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Does Mother know?\\\"\\n\\nMother?\\n\\n\\\"Is Tain your son?\\\" Drem asked Alcyon in his usual forthright way.\\n\\nAlcyon nodded, smiled, ruffled Tain's already-scruffy black hair. Something about the action was endearing and made Drem miss his da fora sharp heartbeat allover again.\\n\\n\\\"Does Mother know?\\\" Tain asked again.\\n\\n\\\"Raina knows.\\\" Alcyon shrugged. \\\"Though it would not affect her. She is in the wilds of Arcona, not Tarbesh.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tarbesh is a lot closer to Arcona than we are,\\\" Tain said.\\n\\n\\\"Why is your mother in Arcona?\\\" Drem asked.\\n\\n\\\"On a fool's errand.\\\" Alcyon growled, looking back to his axe.\\n\\n\\\"She is searching for survivors of our old Clan, the Kurgan,\\\" Tain said. \\\"She has been gone many years, now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Too many,\\\" Alcyon muttered.\\n\\n\\\"You could have gone,\\\" Tain said quietly. \\\"Should have gone.\\\"\\n\\nAlcyon stared at his son, a dark look.\\n\\nWings flapped from above; Rab was descending to them.\\n\\n\\\"Any news?\\\" Cullen asked the white crow.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Too dark,\\\" Rab squawked.\\n\\n\\\"Flick?\\\" Tain asked.\\n\\nRab shook his head mournfully, then tucked his beak under awing.\\n\\nAbruptly, Stepor sat up and looked around at them all, then up at the moon. \\\"Time for Keld to have a nap, I'm thinking,\\\" he said. He stood and clicked his tongue, his wolven-hounds\\\" ears pricking.\\n\\n\\\"With me,\\\" he said, and Grack and Ralla followed him into the night.\\n\\nScreams in the distance, growing louder.\\n\\n\\\"Faster, faster,\\\" Rab squawked at them as he winged low, then rose into the sky again, leading them onwards. Drem was riding up a shallow slope alongside Cullen and Keld, Stepor a little ahead of them. Utul and Shar rode wide on the right wing, and Alcyon and Tain were running at a startling pace on the left.\\n\\nA riderless horse burst over the ridge of the slope they were climbing, white-eyed and sweat-stained. It galloped down towards them, veering just in time. Drem saw bloodied claw marks staining the animal's haunch.\\n\\nStepor reached the ridge, Grack and Ralla either side of him, and reined in. Within heartbeats Drem, Keld and Cullen were alongside, all of them pausing to take in the scene before them. On either side Utul and Alcyon crested the ridge a heartbeat behind them.\\n\\nA shallow slope ran away from them, down onto an open plain. Figures moved, Drem instantly recognizing the unnatural gait of thick-muscled, long-limbed Ferals. They were circling and charging a handful of wains that were gathered in a loose half-circle, one of them overturned, one wheel slowly spinning. Figures were amongst the carts, some running, some standing, fighting. Terrible screams rang out, and Drem saw a woman burst from her cover, running hard fora slope.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A Feral appeared on the overturned wain, crouched fora moment, muscles bunching, then it leaped. It hit the ground a dozen paces behind the woman, a heartbeat later was slamming into her, both of them going down, the woman screaming, limbs flailing. The Feral's jaws opened unnaturally wide and bit down onto her face, more screams, higher in pitch, then a wet gurgling.\\n\\n\\\"Plan, boss?\\\" Stepor said to Keld.\\n\\n\\\"Kill the bastards,\\\" Keld growled and kicked his mount into a canter. Drem followed, the three of them hurtling down the slope, the three wolven-hounds ahead, growling and snarling.\\n\\nDrem was on the plain in a dozen heartbeats, reaching a full gallop in a dozen more.\\n\\nA flicker of movement in Drem's peripheral vision-Utul and Shar pulling ahead of them.\\n\\nA handful of Ferals bounded to meet them, their jaws and claws dripping red. They saw Utul and Shar, howled and threw themselves at the two warriors.\\n\\nDrem saw Utul draw his curved sword, heard him shout something.\\n\\n\\\"LASAIR,\\\" and then Utul's sword burst into flame.\\n\\n\\\"TRUTH AND COURAGE,\\\" Utul and Shar yelled as they rode at the Ferals. Utul sliced an arm from the first Feral, the stump going up inflames, the stench of burned fur and flesh sharp in the air, and then Drem was too close, dragging on his reins for his mount to turn. He pulled a hand-axe from his belt, hefted it, felt his weight shift in his saddle.\\n\\nI'm not used to fighting on horseback.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Keld, Cullen and Stepor rode through the line of wains a few moments ahead of him, Fen leaping and snarling.\\n\\nDrem made a snap decision, leaping from his saddle, hitting the ground in a stumbling run, drawing his seax with his other hand.\\n\\nWithin the wains all was chaos: men, women, children, all screaming, running, Ferals killing indiscriminately, small groups of survivors fighting back.\\n\\nGlimpses of Keld, Stepor and Cullen working together, the three wolven-hounds throwing themselves at Feral beasts, savage snarling.\\n\\nDrem ran towards them.\\n\\nA Feral looked up from feasting, jaws crimson. Drem took half of its face off with his axe, heard it yowling as he skidded to a halt, turning and stabbing with his seax. It slashed long claws at him even as its legs gave way beneath it. The claws raked Drem's chest, slicing through leather and wool, opening red lines. Drem yelled as his axe rose and fell again and again as the Feral slumped, gnashing its teeth as it died.\\n\\nHe stood there, breathing hard, saw the Feral had torn open a young boy. He looked away.\\n\\nThere was a bellow to his left as Alcyon and Tain burst through the wains, Alcyon swinging his two axes and Tain stabbing with along spear. A Feral's head spun through the air, its body running on. Tain skewered another beast with his spear, pinning it to the ground. It began to climb its way along the spear shaft towards Tain, then Alcyon's axe crunched into its head, an explosion of fur, bone and brain.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"More screaming drew Drem's eyes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A horse-Utul's mount-was rearing, lashing out and crunching into a Feral's chest, bones snapping. Beside Utul, Shar was laying about her with her sword. A Feral's arm flew lazily through the air.\\n\\nMore Ferals slammed into Utul's horse, blood spurting, the horse neighing, screaming, toppling over.\\n\\nDrem ran, as if in slow motion, as he saw the horse roll, pinning Utul's leg, a Feral's swipe opening the horse's belly, intestines spilling. Another Feral moving towards Utul. Shar was trying to reach him, but there were two Ferals leaping at her.\\n\\nThe Feral stood over Utul, afoot stamping on his sword arm, pinning it, jaws opening wide.\\n\\nDrem crashed into the creature, both of them tumbling to the ground, rolling. Foul breath washed over him as teeth snapped a hair's breadth from his face. He raised his knee high, managed to lever the creature away and stab with his seax, deep into its waist.\\n\\nThe Feral roared, teeth snapping frenziedly. Drem twisted his blade, felt blood sluice over his hand, his grip slipping. He pushed, scrambled in the dirt, managed to slide away from the beast, rolled, came to one knee and hurled his hand-axe.\\n\\nIt crunched into the Feral's face. The beast collapsed backwards, spasming, then was finally still.\\n\\nDrem staggered to his feet and wrenched his seax and axe free from the corpse.\\n\\nUtul was still pinned; Shar reached him at the same time as Drem. He pushed and heaved at Utul's dead horse and Shar dragged Utul free.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"My thanks,\\\" Utul said to Drem. He looked down at his mount and bent to lay his palm on the dead animal's side, Drem seeing tears blur the warrior's eyes.\\n\\n\\\"They shall pay for that,\\\" Utul snarled. He swept up his sword, which was no longer flaming, and looked around.\\n\\nCullen was still mounted, laying about with his sword, Keld and Stepor fighting side by side close by.\\n\\nDrem and the two Jehar ran to support the group, Utul limping but still bellowing a war-cry.\\n\\nDrem chopped his axe into the spine of a Feral rolling with Fen and ripped it free. He slashed claws that were swiping at his face, swayed away from snapping teeth and stabbed his seax up into the jaw of a Feral, felt his blade cut through the soft tissue of its mouth, on, up into its brain. He kicked the dead beast away.\\n\\nThen the two giants were there.\\n\\nDrem was chopping into the chest of a fallen Feral, axe and seax windmilling, hacking and stabbing, blood and fragments of bone spraying. Blood in his face, clouding his vision, but he kept on stabbing. Something grabbed his shoulder, shook him. He snarled as he turned, raising his blades.\\n\\n\\\"It's over, laddie,\\\" Alcyon said, Drem freezing, staring. He looked about, saw Alcyon was right. He glimpsed a Feral bounding away, but everywhere else the deformed creatures were still and twisted in death.\\n\\nDrem looked at the ring of people they had aided. Tough men and women, the type Drem was familiar with from the Desolation, weathered and hard. All were bloodied, wide-eyed and breathing hard.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"An old woman stepped out of the ring, grey hair matted, her face stained with blood and soot, clothes tattered and torn. She had a knife in one hand, a small axe in the other, like him.\\n\\n\\\"Drem, Drem, is that you?\\\" she called out, eyes fixing on him.\\n\\n\\\"Hildith?\\\" Drem said, taking a step towards her.\\n\\n\\\"Of course it's me,\\\" she said, brushing back strands of her matted hair and smudging soot around her face.\\n\\n\\\"We should have believed you,\\\" she told him grimly. \\\"When you came to the Assembly and warned us about the mine. You told us Olin was murdered.\\\" She bowed her head. \\\"Kergard is destroyed, they rolled through it like a plague.\\\" She looked up, mouth an angry, thin line. \\\"They burned down my mead-hall.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're safe now,\\\" Drem said, helping Hildith stand as she swayed and half fell onto him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha stepped into the cave mouth, Gulla at her side, Gunil behind them. It was wide and high enough for Gunil to walk comfortably without stooping.\\n\\nOn either side iron bars reflected torchlight, cages housing more of Fritha's Ferals. Some she could tell were obedient to her, by the way they whined and snuffled as she walked by, but others threw themselves into the bars, snapping and snarling and grasping with long talons or ruined hands.\\n\\nThey are not so tame.\\n\\nThey walked deeper into the tunnels that bored far beneath the ground, proof of their search for remnants of the starstone. They had found none, and yet fate had seen fit to give Fritha the Starstone Sword, ready-forged! It was a sign that she was following the right path, that if there was any such thing as a power looking down upon them, it was looking after her.\\n\\nTorches set into the rock walls sent shadows dancing, and as they descended further Fritha saw pockets of people, huddled close together, still as statues.\\n\\nRevenants.\\n\\nSome were Gulla's brood, others were Ulf's.\\n\\nEven though Fritha had played apart in creating them, she felt a sense of unease at the sight of them, eyes dark holes, skin stretched too tight across their bodies, revealing every line of muscle and tendon.\\n\\nAnd then they were walking into a circular chamber, the path leading both ways, curling around a pit, roughly as deep as two giants.\\n\\nFritha leaned over and saw the floor of the pit was seething, amass of furred limbs, of tooth and claw.\\n\\n\\\"You are to be commended, Priestess,\\\" Gulla said. \\\"Your breeding programme has worked.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha smiled, feeling a deep warmth for her creations. Hundreds of Ferals, if not thousands, roamed the pit, an abundance of sizes, from cub-like bairns to full-grown adults. She had hoped that they would breed, had worked words of power into her newest creations, enhancing and accelerating their reproductive and growth systems, but she had never dared to imagine that it would work this well. A stench emanated from the pit, of fur and sweat, of blood and urine and excrement, but Fritha did not care. Here and thereon the pit floor there were twisted carcasses, some little more than bones picked clean, but others were fresher, were distinguishable as various manifestations of her Ferals. She shrugged, sad to see some casualties, but it was for the survival of the strongest and the most robust. There was no room for the weak and feeble in her new order.\\n\\n\\\"There area lot of them,\\\" Gunil commented.\\n\\nFor once his declaration of the obvious did not annoy Fritha.\\n\\nShe smiled at Gulla and Gunil.\\n\\n\\\"Give me the Sword,\\\" Gulla said to Fritha.\\n\\nThey were standing in Gulla's chambers, another cave that burrowed far into the ground, though this one was not so deep or so crowded as the labyrinth Fritha had housed her Ferals within. Gulla's chamber was luxuriant, furs and silks draping his bed and chairs. There was also a bolthole in this tunnel, a wisp of air filtering down from Gulla's escape route if the Ben-Elim or Order of the Bright Star discovered this lair.\\n\\nThey are too late now.\\n\\nFritha rested a hand protectively on the hilt of the Starstone Sword. She did not want to give it up. It washer right. She had discovered it, schemed to steal it from Olin and Drem. It was she who had taken the risks and earned it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But more than that, she needed it.\\n\\n\\\"It is mine,\\\" Fritha said, daring to speak against Gulla, though his eyes bored into her. \\\"I was chosen for the task by the Covens.\\\" She remembered that fateful day, six years ago, standing within the ruins of a giant fortress, the Kadoshim gathered together for the first time since the Battle of Varan's Fall. More than five hundred Kadoshim had cast their lot.\\n\\n\\\"They voted for me,\\\" she repeated. \\\"I was given the greatest honour as a symbol of the Kadoshim's commitment to anew world, and to mankind. A covenant to build this world together, not like the Ben-Elim, as dictators, but you and your kin in harmony with mankind.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nothing has changed,\\\" Gulla said. \\\"You were chosen. You still are. But you have failed in your set task, allowed the Order to discover our existence and whereabouts. That cannot be overlooked. You must prove that our faith in you is warranted. Prove that you are worthy.\\\"\\n\\nThis was what Fritha had feared: the possibility that all that she longed for and had fought so hard for would betaken from her.\\n\\nI must accept his judgement. He is high captain, greatest amongst the Kadoshim until Asroth is awoken.\\n\\nFritha bowed her head, felt Gulla reach out a hand, long-taloned fingers caressing her shaven scalp.\\n\\n\\\"But this is not a punishment. I am setting you anew task. Accomplish it and you will still have the greatest honour. But you must fulfil your task first,\\\" he growled. \\\"If you fail it, you will be dead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is this task, then?\\\" Fritha asked.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"To destroy the Order of the Bright Star.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But we were to leave together, I must beat the great battle.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now Dun Seren knows we are here they will send their scouts out, their damned crows and their sharp eyes. If the mine is still and silent and the land is empty, then the Order of the Bright Star will not march north.\\\"\\n\\nHe cupped her chin, tilted her head up to hold her gaze.\\n\\n\\\"The Order must march north, must be occupied and led into the Desolation, else they will be a danger on my flank. If they did not know we were here, were unaware of our strength, then it would be different-you would be travelling at my side. But they know.\\\"\\n\\nHe shrugged. \\\"You must stay here, or be seen somewhere in the Desolation.\\\"\\n\\nFritha acknowledged the logic and knew that she had played apart by allowing Drem and the others to escape.\\n\\nBut face the Order of the Bright Star? She felt a rush of fear, and also of excitement. The most difficult of tasks, yes, but what if she succeeded? Her battle fame would live on fora thousand years.\\n\\nThe Order marching north, into the Desolation, away from their high walls and defences, where they will be vulnerable. Not weak. Never weak. But vulnerable.\\n\\nDid you plan this all along, Gulla?\\n\\n\\\"And you will have more than your Ferals at your side. I sent word south, and more acolytes have come to us, you saw many when you arrived. I will not take all of them with me. And most of all, I am leaving Ulf with you, and with him comes his brood of Revenants, all that he or his disciples have turned. His blood is spreading, infecting the Desolation.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fritha nodded, already thinking through strategies, terrain, deployment.\\n\\n\\\"It is dangerous, with no guarantee that you will succeed, and this is why you must give me the Sword,\\\" Gulla said. \\\"If you are victorious and are at the appointed place on the appointed day, then the great honour will still be yours, and all the greater for your victory. But if you are not there...\\\"\\n\\nI will do this. I will lay the Order of the Bright Star low.\\n\\nShe unbuckled her weapons-belt and slipped the scabbarded sword from it, held it fora moment in her hands, turning it. The leather-bound hilt was simple, unadorned, the dark metal of the pommel and cross-guard almost coal black. She half-drew the blade, the steel dull as night, seeming to suck in the light around it, a dark cloud halo pulsing, emanating from the blade.\\n\\nThen she slid the sword home and handed it to Gulla.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv felt a thrill of excitement as she saw the grey fortress of Dun Seren upon a hill in the distance, meadows of rich pasture rolling around it. It was past highsun, the sun dipping towards the horizon, silhouetting the tower and keep.\\n\\nI have heard so much of the Order of the Bright Star but only seen a few of their huntsmen in the flesh. This will bean education.\\n\\nShe was high in the sky amidst tattered wisps of cloud, Kol and a score of Ben-Elim around her. Her arms were goosefleshed with cold, and Riv resolved to make herself a fur-lined jerkin as soon as she possibly could. She had never flown so far or for such a prolonged time before. Five full days, from dusk until dawn, and now the muscles in her back were aching, dull and deep, but nevertheless it was glorious. She loved to fly, to feel free, all the cares of the world somehow left below her, insignificant as ants.\\n\\nOnly one memory from her life below had kept her company through the long days of flight, all else blurring.\\n\\nBleda.\\n\\nIf she closed her eyes, she could still feel the sensation of his lips pressed against hers, the tangle of their bodies. Just the thought of him sent moth wings fluttering in her belly. She wanted to see him, now.\\n\\nA shout from her right, a glance to see Kol signalling, and they began their long, sweeping descent towards Dun Seren, clouds whipping past them, the fortress growing larger. Soon Riv was speeding over outlying paddocks, herds of horses beneath them.\\n\\nThere must be thousands.\\n\\nHorns rang out from the fortress, deep and resonant, and then they were flying over Dun Seren's outer wall, afield opening up beneath them, filled with figures. Riv saw many giants scattered amongst them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Is this their weapons-field?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv was surprised to see it was close to the same size as the field at Drassil, even though Drassil as a whole dwarfed Dun Seren. And the numbers upon the field were a surprise to her, too-easily in the thousands.\\n\\nRarely will there be this many upon the weapons-field of Drassil atone time. They take their training seriously here.\\n\\nThey passed over the weapons-field, flying over sod and grey-tiled rooftops, a stream of figures hurrying along a wide road towards the keep and tower that dominated the hill of Dun Seren.\\n\\nWith a flurry of shifting wings they were above a courtyard and angling down, circling around a great statue of a warrior and wolven.\\n\\nIs that Corban and his wolven, Storm?\\n\\nRiv had heard tales of the founder of the Order of the Bright Star, that Corban had played some small part in the Day of Wrath, when the Ben-Elim had saved the Banished Lands from the hordes of Kadoshim that had broken out of the Otherworld.\\n\\nRiv followed Kol and his Ben-Elim warriors as they swirled around the statue, wings adjusting, feet dropping, and then Riv was alighting in the courtyard, her wings folding into her back, Kol and his Ben-Elim around her, masking her from view.\\n\\nA crowd was gathering in the courtyard, figures ranging upon the walls, more pouring in from the surrounding streets, but Riv's eyes were fixed on the stone keep before her, wide stone steps leading up to its open doors. Four figures stood at the top of the steps, three giants and a woman. Two of the giants Riv recognized: Balur One-Eye and Queen Ethlinn. The last giant was slimmer than most of his kin, a scraggly black crow perched upon his shoulder.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Is that one of Dun Seren's talking crows? Riv thought. She had met one once before, whilst in council with Israfil.\\n\\nFlick, I think his name was.\\n\\nKol strode up the steps, Riv and his Ben-Elim following.\\n\\nThe woman with the giants stepped forwards. She was plain and stern-faced, dressed in simple training leathers. She moved with an economical grace, a certain way about her that Riv associated with the weapons-masters at Drassil like Ert. A confidence and control of their every movement. Riv saw streaks of grey in her black hair. A curved sword jutted over one shoulder.\\n\\nSimilar to the Sirak's, Riv thought, although the hilt of this one is longer. A two-handed blade.\\n\\n\\\"Welcome to Dun Seren, Kol,\\\" the woman said.\\n\\n\\\"Greetings, Byrne,\\\" Kol said, a dip of his head, a shifting of his shoulders, not quite a bow. He looked to Ethlinn and Balur One-Eye, nodded a greeting to them both.\\n\\n\\\"My apologies for arriving unannounced,\\\" Kol said. \\\"But I bring momentous news from Drassil. The Lord Protector Israfil is dead.\\\"\\n\\nThere were gasps around the courtyard, but Riv kept her eyes and attention focused on Byrne, Ethlinn and Balur. Of the three of them, Balur's expression changed the most, a deep frown creasing the slabbed bones of his face.\\n\\n\\\"How?\\\" Ethlinn said.\\n\\n\\\"He was murdered. A conspiracy between Kadoshim and traitors. It went as deep as our own White-Wings. Garidas was chief amongst the traitors.\\\"\\n\\nBalur's frown deepened.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Riv had known how loyal Garidas was to Israfil, and if she had known, then Balur likely did, as well.\\n\\n\\\"This is shocking news,\\\" Byrne said, no emotion showing on her face. \\\"I was concerned that all was not well at Drassil.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye, it is, which is why I have taken it upon myself to bring you the news myself. There is more you should know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Goon,\\\" Byrne said.\\n\\n\\\"I have been named the new Lord Protector.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My congratulations,\\\" Byrne said.\\n\\n\\\"And one of my first acts has been to revoke the Lore against inter-relations between Ben-Elim and humankind. Riv, step forth,\\\" Kol called.\\n\\nThe Ben-Elim about Riv parted and Riv stepped forwards. She felt the courtyard go silent, thousands of eyes upon her. She hated it, hated being this focal point of ideology and belief. But she was not one to bow her head and walk meekly, so she stood straight and tall and strode to stand beside Kol. Her eyes she kept fixed on Byrne, and when Riv reached Kol's side she snapped her wings open, made them beat, once, slowly, then furled them back in again.\\n\\nThe silence lengthened.\\n\\n\\\"Clearly, we need to talk,\\\" Byrne said.\\n\\nRiv followed Kol into a high-vaulted room, afire-pit roaring, a table beyond it surrounded with high-backed chairs. Byrne led them to the table, gesturing for Kol and Riv to sit.\\n\\nBalur and Ethlinn entered the room, the other giant with the crow upon his shoulder following them. 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"value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 26"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Anya Waynwood and Horton Redfort exchanged a look. Hunter drained his wine cup and held it out to be refilled. \"Lord Baelish,\" Ser Symond said, \"you must forgive us that display.\"\n\n\"Must I?\" Littlefinger's voice had grown cold. \"You brought him here, my lords.\"\n\nBronze Yohn said, \"It was never our intent-\"\n\n\"You brought him here. I would be well within my rights to call my guards and have all of you arrested.\"\n\nHunter lurched to his feet so wildly that he almost knocked the flagon out of Alayne's hands. \"You gave us safe conduct!\"\n\n\"Yes. Be grateful that I have more honor than some.\" Petyr sounded as angry as she had ever heard him. \"I have read your declaration and heard your demands. Now hear mine. Remove your armies from this mountain. Go home and leave my son in peace. Misrule there has been, I will not deny it, but that was Lysa's work, not mine. Grant me but a year, and with Lord Nestor's help I promise that none of you shall have any cause for grievance.\"\n\n\"So you say,\" said Belmore. \"Yet how shall we trust you?\"\n\n\"You dare call me untrustworthy? It was not me who bared steel at a parley. You write of defending Lord Robert even as you deny him food. That must end. I am no warrior, but I will fight you if you do not lift this siege. There are other lords besides you in the Vale, and King's Landing will send men as well. If it is war you want, say so now and the Vale will bleed.\"\n\nAlayne could seethe doubt blooming in the eyes of the Lords Declarant. \"A year is not so long a time,\" Lord Redfort said uncertainly. \"Mayhaps... if you gave assurances...\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"None of us wants war,\" acknowledged Lady Waynwood. \"Autumn wanes, and we must gird ourselves for winter.\"\n\nBelmore cleared his throat. \"At the end of this year...\"\n\n\"... if I have not set the Vale to rights, I shall willingly step down as Lord Protector,\" Petyr promised them.\n\n\"I call that more than fair,\" Lord Nestor Royce put in.\n\n\"There must be no reprisals,\" insisted Templeton. \"No talk of treason or rebellion. You must swear to that as well.\"\n\n\"Gladly,\" said Petyr. \"It is friends I want, not foes. I shall pardon all of you, in writing if you wish. Even Lyn Corbray. His brother is a good man, there is no need to bring down shame upon a noble House.\"\n\nLady Waynwood turned to her fellow Lords Declarant. \"My lords, perhaps we might confer?\"\n\n\"There is no need. It is plain that he has won.\" Bronze Yohn's grey eyes considered Petyr Baelish. \"I like it not, but it would seem you have your year. Best use it well, my lord. Not all of us are fooled.\" He opened the door so forcefully that he all but wrenched it off its hinges.\n\nLater there was a feast of sorts, though Petyr was forced to make apologies for the humble fare. Robert was trotted out in a doublet of cream and blue, and played the little lord quite graciously. Bronze Yohn was not thereto see; he had already departed from the Eyrie to begin the long descent, as had Ser Lyn Corbray before him. The other lords remained with them till morn.\n\nHe bewitched them, Alayne thought as she lay abed that night listening to the wind howl outside her windows. She could not have said where the suspicion came from, but once it crossed her mind it would not let her sleep. She tossed and turned, worrying at it like a dog at some old bone. Finally, she rose and dressed herself, leaving Gretchel to her dreams."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Petyr was still awake, scratching out a letter. \"Alayne,\" he said. \"My sweet. What brings you here so late?\"\n\n\"I had to know. What will happen in a year?\"\n\nHe put down his quill. \"Redfort and Waynwood are old. One or both of them may die. Gilwood Hunter will be murdered by his brothers. Most likely by young Harlan, who arranged Lord Eon's death. In fora penny, in fora stag, I always say. Belmore is corrupt and can be bought. Templeton I shall befriend. Bronze Yohn Royce will continue to be hostile, I fear, but so long as he stands alone he is not so much a threat.\"\n\n\"And Ser Lyn Corbray?\"\n\nThe candlelight was dancing in his eyes. \"Ser Lyn will remain my implacable enemy. He will speak of me with scorn and loathing to every man he meets, and lend his sword to every secret plot to bring me down.\"\n\nThat was when her suspicion turned to certainty. \"And how shall you reward him for this service?\"\n\nLittlefinger laughed aloud. \"With gold and boys and promises, of course. Ser Lyn is a man of simple tastes, my sweetling. All he likes is gold and boys and killing.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "CERSEI\n\nThe king was pouting. \"I want to sit on the Iron Throne,\" he told her. \"You always let Joff sit up there.\"\n\n\"Joffrey was twelve.\"\n\n\"But I'm the king. The throne belongs tome.\"\n\n\"Who told you that?\" Cersei took a deep breath, so Dorcas could lace her up more tightly. She was a big girl, much stronger than Senelle, though clumsier as well.\n\nTommen's face turned red. \"No one told me.\"\n\n\"No one? Is that what you call your lady wife?\" The queen could smell Margaery Tyrell allover this rebellion. \"If you lie tome, I will have no choice but to send for Pate and have him beaten till he bleeds.\" Pate was Tommen's whipping boy, as he had been Joffrey's. \"Is that what you want?\"\n\n\"No,\" the king muttered sullenly.\n\n\"Who told you?\"\n\nHe shuffled his feet. \"Lady Margaery.\" He knew better than to call her queen in his mother's hearing.\n\n\"That is better. Tommen, I have grave matters to decide, matters that you are far too young to understand. I do not need a silly little boy fidgeting on the throne behind me and distracting me with childish questions. I suppose Margaery thinks you ought to beat my council meetings too?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he admitted. \"She says I have to learn to be king.\"\n\n\"When you are older, you can attend as many councils as you wish,\" Cersei told him. \"I promise you, you will soon grow sick of them. Robert used to doze through the sessions.\" When he troubled to attend at all. \"He preferred to hunt and hawk, and leave the tedium to old Lord Arryn. Do you remember him?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He died of a bellyache.\"\n\n\"So he did, poor man. As you are so eager to learn, perhaps you should learn the names of all the kings of Westeros and the Hands who served them. You may recite them tome on the morrow.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mother,\" he said meekly.\n\n\"That's my good boy.\" The rule washers; Cersei did not mean to give it up until Tommen came of age. I waited, so can he. I waited half my life. She had played the dutiful daughter, the blushing bride, the pliant wife. She had suffered Robert's drunken groping, Jaime's jealousy, Renly's mockery, Varys with his titters, Stannis endlessly grinding his teeth. She had contended with Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, and her vile, treacherous, murderous dwarf brother, all the while promising herself that one day it would be her turn. If Margaery Tyrell thinks to cheat me of my hour in the sun, she had bloody well think again.\n\nStill, it was an ill way to break her fast, and Cersei's day did not soon improve. She spent the rest of the morning with Lord Gyles and his ledger books, listening to him cough about stars and stags and dragons. After him Lord Waters arrived, to report that the first three dromonds were nearing completion and beg for more gold to finish them in the splendor they deserved. The queen was pleased to grant him his request. Moon Boy capered as she took her midday meal with members of the merchant guilds and listened to them complain about sparrows wandering the streets and sleeping in the squares. I may need to use the gold cloaks to chase these sparrows from the city, she was thinking, when Pycelle intruded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Grand Maester had been especially querulous in council of late. At the last session he had complained bitterly about the men that Aurane Waters had chosen to captain her new dromonds. Waters meant to give the ships to younger men, whilst Pycelle argued for experience, insisting that the commands should go to those captains who had survived the fires of the Blackwater. \"Seasoned men of proven loyalty,\" he called them. Cersei called them old, and sided with Lord Waters. \"The only thing these captains proved was that they know how to swim,\" she'd said. \"No mother should outlive her children, and no captain should outlive his ship.\" Pycelle had taken the rebuke with ill grace.\n\nHe seemed less choleric today, and even managed a sort of tremulous smile. \"Your Grace, glad tidings,\" he announced. \"Wyman Manderly has done as you commanded, and beheaded Lord Stannis's onion knight.\"\n\n\"We know this fora certainty?\"\n\n\"The man's head and hands have been mounted above the walls of White Harbor. Lord Wyman avows this, and the Freys confirm. They have seen the head there, with an onion in its mouth. And the hands, one marked by his shortened fingers.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" said Cersei. \"Send a bird to Manderly and inform him that his son will be returned forthwith, now that he has demonstrated his loyalty.\" White Harbor would soon return to the king's peace, and Roose Bolton and his bastard son were closing in on Moat Cailin from south and north. Once the Moat was theirs, they would join their strength and clear the ironmen out of Torrhen's Square and Deepwood Motte as well. That should win them the allegiance of Ned Stark's remaining bannermen when the time came to march against Lord Stannis."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To the south, meanwhile, Mace Tyrell had raised a city of tents outside Storm's End and had two dozen mangonels flinging stones against the castle's massive walls, thus far to small effect. Lord Tyrell the warrior, the queen mused. His sigil ought to be a fat man sitting on his arse.\n\nThat afternoon the dour Braavosi envoy turned up for his audience. Cersei had put him off fora fortnight and would have gladly put him off another year, but Lord Gyles claimed he could no longer deal with the man... though the queen was starting to wonder if Gyles was capable of doing anything but coughing.\n\nNoho Dimittis, the Braavosi named himself. An irritating name for an irritating man. His voice was irritating too. Cersei shifted in her seat as he went on, wondering how long she must endure his hectoring. Behind her loomed the Iron Throne, its barbs and blades throwing twisted shadows across the floor. Only the king or his Hand could sit upon the throne itself. Cersei sat by its foot, in a seat of gilded wood piled with crimson cushions.\n\nWhen the Braavosi paused for breath, she saw her chance. \"This is more properly a matter for our lord treasurer.\"\n\nThat answer did not please the noble Noho, it would seem. \"I have spoken with Lord Gyles six times. He coughs at me and makes excuses, Your Grace, but the gold is not forthcoming.\"\n\n\"Speak to him a seventh time,\" Cersei suggested pleasantly. \"The number seven is sacred to our gods.\"\n\n\"It pleases Your Grace to make a jest, I see.\"\n\n\"When I make a jest I smile. Do you see me smiling? Do you hear laughter? I assure you, when I make a jest, men laugh.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"King Robert-\"\n\n\"-is dead,\" she said sharply. \"The Iron Bank will have its gold when this rebellion has been put down.\"\n\nHe had the insolence to scowl at her. \"Your Grace-\"\n\n\"This audience is at an end.\" Cersei had suffered quite enough for one day. \"Ser Meryn, show the noble Noho Dimittis to the door. Ser Osmund, you may escort me back to my apartments.\" Her guests would soon arrive, and she had to bathe and change. Supper promised to be a tedious affair as well. It was hard work to rule a kingdom, much less seven of them.\n\nSer Osmund Kettleblack fell in beside heron the steps, tall and lean in his Kingsguard whites. When Cersei was certain they were quite alone, she slid her arm through his. \"How is your little brother faring, pray?\"\n\nSer Osmund looked uneasy. \"Ah... well enough, only...\"\n\n\"Only?\" The queen let a hint of anger edge her words. \"I must confess, I am running short of patience with dear Osney. It is past time he broke in that little filly. I named him Tommen's sworn shield so he could spend part of everyday in Margaery's company. He should have plucked the rose by now. Is the little queen blind to his charms?\"\n\n\"His charms is fine. He's a Kettleblack, ain't he? Begging your pardon.\" Ser Osmund ran his fingers through his oily black hair. \"It's her that's the trouble.\"\n\n\"And why is that?\" The queen had begun to nurse doubts about Ser Osney. Perhaps another man would have been more to Margaery's liking. Aurane Waters, with that silvery hair, or a big strapping fellow like Ser Tallad. \"Would the maid prefer someone else? Does your brother's face displease her?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She likes his face. She touched his scars two days ago, he told me. \"What woman gave you these?\" she asked. Osney never said it was a woman, but she knew. Might be someone told her. She's always touching him when they talk, he says. Straightening the clasp on his cloak, brushing back his hair, and like that. Onetime at the archery butts she had him show her how to hold a longbow, so he had to put his arms around her. Osney tells her bawdy jests, and she laughs and comes back with ones that are even bawdier. No, she wants him, that's plain, but...\"\n\n\"But?\" Cersei prompted.\n\n\"They are never alone. The king's with them most all the time, and when he's not, there's someone else. Two of her ladies share her bed, different ones every night. Two others bring her breakfast and help her dress. She prays with her septa, reads with her cousin Elinor, sings with her cousin Alla, sews with her cousin Megga. When she's not off hawking with Janna Fossoway and Merry Crane, she's playing come-into-my-castle with that little Bulwer girl. She never goes riding but she takes a tail, four or five companions and a dozen guards at least. And there's always men about her, even in the Maidenvault.\"\n\n\"Men.\" That was something. That had possibilities. \"What men are these, pray tell?\"\n\nSer Osmund shrugged. \"Singers. She's a fool for singers and jugglers and such. Knights, come round to moon over her cousins. Ser Tallad's the worst, Osney says. That big oaf don't seem to know if it's Elinor or Alla he wants, but he knows he wants her awful bad. The Redwyne twins come calling too. Slobber brings flowers and fruit, and Horror's taken up the lute. To hear Osney tell it, you could make a sweeter sound strangling a cat. The Summer Islander's always underfoot as well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Jalabhar Xho?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cersei gave a derisive snort. \"Begging her for gold and swords to win his homeland back, most like.\" Beneath his jewels and feathers, Xho was little more than a wellborn beggar. Robert could have put an end to his importuning for good with one firm'No,\" but the notion of conquering the Summer Isles had appealed to her drunken lout of a husband. No doubt he dreamt of brown-skinned wenches naked beneath feathered cloaks, with nipples black as coal. So instead of'No,\" Robert always told Xho, \"Next year,\" though somehow next year never came.\n\n\"I couldn't say if he was begging, Your Grace,\" Ser Osmund answered. \"Osney says he's teaching them the Summer Tongue. Not Osney, the quee-the filly and her cousins.\"\n\n\"A horse that speaks the Summer Tongue would make a great sensation,\" the queen said dryly. \"Tell your brother to keep his spurs well honed. I shall find someway for him to mount his filly soon, you may rely on that.\"\n\n\"I'll tell him, Your Grace. He's eager for that ride, don't think he ain't. She's a pretty little thing, that filly.\"\n\nIt is me he's eager for, fool, the queen thought. All he wants of Margaery is the lordship between her legs. As fond as she was of Osmund, at times he seemed as slow as Robert. I hope his sword is quicker than his wits. The day may come that Tommen has some need of it.\n\nThey were crossing beneath the shadow of the broken Tower of the Hand when the sound of cheers swept over them. Across the yard, some squire had made a pass at the quintain and sent the crossarm spinning. The cheers were being led by Margaery Tyrell and her hens. A lot of uproar for very little. You would think the boy had won a tourney. Then she was startled to see that it was Tommen on the courser, clad all in gilded plate."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The queen had little choice but to dona smile and go to see her son. She reached him as the Knight of Flowers was helping him from his horse. The boy was breathless with excitement. \"Did you see?\" he was asking everyone. \"I did it just the way Ser Loras said. Did you see, Ser Osney?\"\n\n\"I did,\" said Osney Kettleblack. \"A pretty sight.\"\n\n\"You have a better seat than me, sire,\" put in Ser Dermot.\n\n\"I broke the lance too. Ser Loras, did you hear it?\"\n\n\"As loud as a crack of thunder.\" Arose of jade and gold clasped Ser Loras's white cloak at the shoulder, and the wind was riffling artfully through his brown locks. \"You rode a splendid course, but once is not enough. You must do it again upon the morrow. You must ride everyday, until every blow lands true and straight, and your lance is as much apart of you as your arm.\"\n\n\"I want to.\"\n\n\"You were glorious.\" Margaery went to one knee, kissed the king upon his cheek, and put an arm around him. \"Brother, take care,\" she warned Loras. \"My gallant husband will be unhorsing you in a few more years, I think.\" Her three cousins all agreed, and the wretched little Bulwer girl began to hop about, chanting, \"Tommen will be the champion, the champion, the champion.\"\n\n\"When he is a man grown,\" said Cersei.\n\nTheir smiles withered like roses kissed by frost. The pock-faced old septa was the first to bend her knee. The rest followed, save for the little queen and her brother.\n\nTommen did not seem to notice the sudden chill in the air. \"Mother, did you see me?\" he burbled happily. \"I broke my lance on the shield, and the bag never hit me!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I was watching from across the yard."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You did very well, Tommen. I would expect no less of you. Jousting is in your blood. One day you shall rule the lists, as your father did.\"\n\n\"No man will stand before him.\" Margaery Tyrell gave the queen a coy smile. \"But I never knew that King Robert was so accomplished at the joust. Pray tell us, Your Grace, what tourneys did he win? What great knights did he unseat? I know the king should like to hear about his father's victories.\"\n\nA flush crept up Cersei's neck. The girl had caught her out. Robert Baratheon had been an indifferent jouster, in truth. During tourneys he had much preferred the mêlée, where he could beat men bloody with blunted axe or hammer. It had been Jaime she had been thinking of when she spoke. It is not like me to forget myself. \"Robert won the tourney of the Trident,\" she had to say. \"He overthrew Prince Rhaegar and named me his queen of love and beauty. I am surprised you do not know that story, good-daughter.\" She gave Margaery no time to frame a reply. \"Ser Osmund, help my son from his armor, if you would be so good. Ser Loras, walk with me. I need a word with you.\"\n\nThe Knight of Flowers had no recourse but to follow at her heels like the puppy he was. Cersei waited until they were on the serpentine steps before she said, \"Whose notion was that, pray?\"\n\n\"My sister's,\" he admitted. \"Ser Tallad, Ser Dermot, and Ser Portifer were riding at the quintain, and the queen suggested that His Grace might like to have a turn.\"\n\nHe calls her that to irk me. \"And your part?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I helped His Grace to don his armor and showed him how to couch his lance,\" he answered.\n\n\"That horse was much too large for him. What if he had fallen off? What if the sandbag had smashed his head in?\"\n\n\"Bruises and bloody lips are all part of being a knight.\"\n\n\"I begin to understand why your brother is a cripple.\" That wiped the smile off his pretty face, she was pleased to see. \"Perhaps my brother failed to explain your duties to you, ser. You are hereto protect my son from his enemies. Training him for knighthood is the province of the master-at-arms.\"\n\n\"The Red Keep has had no master-at-arms since Aron Santagar was slain,\" Ser Loras said, with a hint of reproach in his voice. \"His Grace is almost nine, and eager to learn. At his age he should be a squire. Someone has to teach him.\"\n\nSomeone will, but it will not be you. \"Pray, who did you squire for, ser?\" she asked sweetly. \"Lord Renly, was it not?\"\n\n\"I had that honor.\"\n\n\"Yes, I thought as much.\" Cersei had seen how tight the bonds grew between squires and the knights they served. She did not want Tommen growing close to Loras Tyrell. The Knight of Flowers was no sort of man for any boy to emulate. \"I have been remiss. With a realm to rule, a war to fight, and a father to mourn, somehow I overlooked the crucial matter of naming anew master-at-arms. I shall rectify that error at once.\"\n\nSer Loras pushed back a brown curl that had fallen across his forehead. \"Your Grace will not find any man half so skilled with sword and lance as I.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Humble, aren't we? \"Tommen is your king, not your squire. You are to fight for him and die for him, if need be. No more.\"\n\nShe left him on the drawbridge that spanned the dry moat with its bed of iron spikes and entered Maegor's Holdfast alone. Where am Ito find a master-at-arms? she wondered as she climbed to her apartments. Having refused Ser Loras, she dare not turn to any of the Kingsguard knights; that would be salt in the wound, certain to anger Highgarden. Ser Tallad? Ser Dermot? There must be someone. Tommen was growing fond of his new sworn shield, but Osney was proving himself less capable than she had hoped in the matter of Maid Margaery, and she had a different office in mind for his brother Osfryd. It was rather a pity that the Hound had gone rabid. Tommen had always been frightened of Sandor Clegane's harsh voice and burned face, and Clegane's scorn would have been the perfect antidote to Loras Tyrell's simpering chivalry.\n\nAron Santagar was Dornish, Cersei recalled. I could send to Dorne. Centuries of blood and war lay between Sunspear and Highgarden. Yes, a Dornishman might suit my needs admirably. There must be some good swords in Dorne.\n\nWhen she entered her solar, Cersei found Lord Qyburn reading in a window seat. \"If it please Your Grace, I have reports.\"\n\n\"More plots and treasons?\" Cersei asked. \"I have had along and tiring day. Tell me quickly.\"\n\nHe smiled sympathetically. \"As you wish. There is talk that the Archon of Tyrosh has offered terms to Lys, to end their present trade war. It had been rumored that Myr was about to enter the war on the Tyroshi side, but without the Golden Company the Myrish did not believe they...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What the Myrish believe does not concern me.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Free Cities were always fighting one another. Their endless betrayals and alliances meant little and less to Westeros. \"Do you have any news of more import?\"\n\n\"The slave revolt in Astapor has spread to Meereen, it would seem. Sailors off a dozen ships speak of dragons...\"\n\n\"Harpies. It is harpies in Meereen.\" She remembered that from somewhere. Meereen was at the far end of the world, out east beyond Valyria. \"Let the slaves revolt. Why should I care? We keep no slaves in Westeros. Is that all you have for me?\"\n\n\"There is some news from Dorne that Your Grace may find of more interest. Prince Doran has imprisoned Ser Daemon Sand, a bastard who once squired for the Red Viper.\"\n\n\"I recall him.\" Ser Daemon had been amongst the Dornish knights who had accompanied Prince Oberyn to King's Landing. \"What did he do?\"\n\n\"He demanded that Prince Oberyn's daughters beset free.\"\n\n\"More fool him.\"\n\n\"Also,\" Lord Qyburn said, \"the daughter of the Knight of Spottswood was betrothed quite unexpectedly to Lord Estermont, our friends in Dorne inform us. She was sent to Greenstone that very night, and it is said she and Estermont have already wed.\"\n\n\"A bastard in the belly would explain that.\" Cersei toyed with a lock of her hair. \"How old is the blushing bride?\"\n\n\"Three-and-twenty, Your Grace. Whereas Lord Estermont-\"\n\n\"-must be seventy. I am aware of that.\" The Estermonts were her good-kin through Robert, whose father had taken one of them to wife in what must have been a fit of lust or madness. By the time Cersei wed the king, Robert's lady mother was long dead, though both of her brothers had turned up for the wedding and stayed for half a year. Robert had later insisted on returning the courtesy with a visit to Estermont, a mountainous little island off Cape Wrath. The dank and dismal fortnight Cersei spent at Greenstone, the seat of House Estermont, was the longest of her young life. Jaime dubbed the castle'Greenshit\" at first sight, and soon had Cersei doing it too. Elsewise she passed her days watching her royal husband hawk, hunt, and drink with his uncles, and bludgeon various male cousins senseless in Greenshit's yard."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There had been a female cousin too, a chunky little widow with breasts as big as melons whose husband and father had both died at Storm's End during the siege. \"Her father was good tome,\" Robert told her, \"and she and I would play together when the two of us were small.\" It did not take him long to start playing with her again. As soon as Cersei closed her eyes, the king would steal off to console the poor lonely creature. One night she had Jaime follow him, to confirm her suspicions. When her brother returned he asked her if she wanted Robert dead. \"No,\" she had replied, \"I want him horned.\" She liked to think that was the night when Joffrey was conceived.\n\n\"Eldon Estermont has taken a wife fifty years his junior,\" she said to Qyburn. \"Why should that concern me?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"I do not say it should... but Daemon Sand and this Santagar girl were both close to Prince Doran's own daughter, Arianne, or so the Dornishmen would have us believe. Perhaps it means little or less, but I thought Your Grace should know.\"\n\n\"Now I do.\" She was losing patience. \"Do you have more?\"\n\n\"One more thing. A trifling matter.\" He gave her an apologetic smile and told her of a puppet show that had recently become popular amongst the city's smallfolk; a puppet show wherein the kingdom of the beasts was ruled by a pride of haughty lions. \"The puppet lions grow greedy and arrogant as this treasonous tale proceeds, until they begin to devour their own subjects. When the noble stag makes objection, the lions devour him as well, and roar that it is their right as the mightiest of beasts.\"\n\n\"And is that the end of it?\" Cersei asked, amused. Looked at in the right light, it could be seen as a salutary lesson."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No, Your Grace. At the end a dragon hatches from an egg and devours all of the lions.\"\n\nThe ending took the puppet show from simple insolence to treason. \"Witless fools. Only cretins would hazard their heads upon a wooden dragon.\" She considered a moment. \"Send some of your whisperers to these shows and make note of who attends. If any of them should be men of note, I would know their names.\"\n\n\"What will be done with them, if I maybe so bold?\"\n\n\"Any men of substance shall be fined. Half their worth should be sufficient to teach them a sharp lesson and refill our coffers, without quite ruining them. Those too poor to pay can lose an eye, for watching treason. For the puppeteers, the axe.\"\n\n\"There are four. Perhaps Your Grace might allow me two of them for mine own purposes. A woman would be especially...\"\n\n\"I gave you Senelle,\" the queen said sharply.\n\n\"Alas. The poor girl is quite... exhausted.\"\n\nCersei did not like to think about that. The girl had come with her unsuspecting, thinking she was along to serve and pour. Even when Qyburn clapped the chain around her wrist, she had not seemed to understand. The memory still made the queen queasy. The cells were bitter cold. Even the torches shivered. And that foul thing screaming in the darkness...\"Yes, you may take a woman. Two, if it please you. But first I will have names.\"\n\n\"As you command.\" Qyburn withdrew.\n\nOutside, the sun was setting. Dorcas had prepared a bath for her. The queen was soaking pleasantly in the warm water and contemplating what she would say to her supper guests when Jaime came bursting through the door and ordered Jocelyn and Dorcas from the room. Her brother looked rather less than immaculate and had a smell of horse about him. He had Tommen with him too. \"Sweet sister,\" he said, \"the king requires a word.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cersei's golden tresses floated in the bathwater. The room was steamy. A drop of sweat trickled down her cheek. \"Tommen?\" she said, in a dangerously soft voice. \"What is it now?\"\n\nThe boy knew that tone. He shrank back.\n\n\"His Grace wants his white courser on the morrow,\" Jaime said. \"For his jousting lesson.\"\n\nShe sat up in the tub. \"There will be no jousting.\"\n\n\"Yes, there will.\" Tommen puffed out his lower lip. \"I have to ride everyday.\"\n\n\"And you shall,\" the queen declared, \"once we have a proper master-at-arms to supervise your training.\"\n\n\"I don't want a proper master-at-arms. I want Ser Loras.\"\n\n\"You make too much of that boy. Your little wife has filled your head with foolish notions of his prowess, I know, but Osmund Kettleblack is thrice the knight that Loras is.\"\n\nJaime laughed. \"Not the Osmund Kettleblack I know.\"\n\nShe could have throttled him. Perhaps I need to command Ser Loras to allow Ser Osmund to unhorse him. That might chase the stars from Tommen's eyes. Salt a slug and shame a hero, and they shrink right up. \"I am sending fora Dornishman to train you,\" she said. \"The Dornish are the finest jousters in the realm.\"\n\n\"They are not,\" said Tommen. \"Anyway, I don't want any stupid Dornishman, I want Ser Loras. I command it.\"\n\nJaime laughed. He is no help at all. Does he think this is amusing? The queen slapped the water angrily. \"Must I send for Pate? You do not command me. I am your mother.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, but I'm the king. Margaery says that everyone has to do what the king says. I want my white courser saddled on the morrow so Ser Loras can teach me how to joust. I want a kitten too, and I don't want to eat beets.\" He crossed his arms.\n\nJaime was still laughing. The queen ignored him. \"Tommen, come here.\" When he hung back, she sighed. \"Are you afraid? A king should not show fear.\" The boy approached the tub, his eyes downcast. She reached out and stroked his golden curls. \"King or no, you area little boy. Until you come of age, the rule is mine. You will learn to joust, I promise you. But not from Loras. The knights of the Kingsguard have more important duties than playing with a child. Ask the Lord Commander. Isn't that so, ser?\"\n\n\"Very important duties.\" Jaime smiled thinly. \"Riding round the city walls, for an instance.\"\n\nTommen looked close to tears. \"Can I still have a kitten?\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" the queen allowed. \"So long as I hear no more nonsense about jousting. Can you promise me that?\"\n\nHe shuffled his feet. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"Good. Now run along. My guests will be here shortly.\"\n\nTommen ran along, but before he left he turned back to say, \"When I'm king in my own right, I'm going to outlaw beets.\"\n\nHer brother shoved the door shut with his stump. \"Your Grace,\" he said, when he and Cersei were alone, \"I was wondering. Are you drunk, or merely stupid?\"\n\nShe slapped the water once again, sending up another splash to wash across his feet. \"Guard your tongue, or-\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"-or what? Will you send me to inspect the city walls again?\" He sat and crossed his legs. \"Your bloody walls are fine. I've crawled over every inch of them and had a look at all seven of the gates. The hinges on the Iron Gate are rusted, and the King's Gate and Mud Gate need to be replaced after the pounding Stannis gave them with his rams. The walls areas strong as they have ever been... but perchance Your Grace has forgotten that our friends of Highgarden are inside the walls?\"\n\n\"I forget nothing,\" she told him, thinking of a certain gold coin, with a hand on one face and the head of a forgotten king on the other. How did some miserable wretch of a gaoler come to have such a coin hidden beneath his chamber pot? How does a manlike Rugen come to have old gold from Highgarden?\n\n\"This is the first I have heard of anew master-at-arms. You'll need to look long and hard to find a better jouster than Loras Tyrell. Ser Loras is-\"\n\n\"I know what he is. I won't have him near my son. You had best remind him of his duties.\" Her bath was growing cool.\n\n\"He knows his duties, and there's no better lance-\"\n\n\"You were better, before you lost your hand. Ser Barristan, when he was young. Arthur Dayne was better, and Prince Rhaegar was a match for even him. Do not prate at me about how fierce the Flower is. He's just a boy.\" She was tired of Jaime balking her. No one had ever balked her lord father. When Tywin Lannister spoke, men obeyed. When Cersei spoke, they felt free to counsel her, to contradict her, even refuse her. It is all because I am a woman. Because I cannot fight them with a sword. They gave Robert more respect than they give me, and Robert was a witless sot. She would not suffer it, especially not from Jaime. I need to rid myself of him, and soon. Once upon a time she had dreamt that the two of them might rule the Seven Kingdoms side by side, but Jaime had become more of a hindrance than a help."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cersei rose from the bath. Water ran down her legs and trickled from her hair. \"When I want your counsel I will ask for it. Leave me, ser. I must needs dress.\"\n\n\"Your supper guests, I know. What plot is this, now? There are so many I lose track.\" His glance fell to the water beading in the golden hair between her legs.\n\nHe still wants me. \"Pining for what you've lost, brother?\"\n\nJaime raised his eyes. \"I love you too, sweet sister. But you're a fool. A beautiful golden fool.\"\n\nThe words stung. You called me kinder words at Greenstone, the night you planted Joff inside me, Cersei thought. \"Get out.\" She turned her back to him and listened to him leave, fumbling at the door with his stump.\n\nWhilst Jocelyn was making certain that all was in readiness for the supper, Dorcas helped the queen into her new gown. It had stripes of shiny green satin alternating with stripes of plush black velvet, and intricate black Myrish lace above the bodice. Myrish lace was costly, but it was necessary fora queen to look her best at all times, and her wretched washerwomen had shrunk several of her old gowns so they no longer fit. She would have whipped them for their carelessness, but Taena had urged her to be merciful. \"The smallfolk will love you more if you are kind,\" she had said, so Cersei had ordered the value of the gowns deducted from the women's wages, a much more elegant solution.\n\nDorcas put a silver looking glass into her hand. Very good, the queen thought, smiling at her reflection. It was pleasant to be out of mourning. Black made her look too pale. A pity I am not supping with Lady Merryweather, the queen reflected. It had been along day, and Taena's wit always cheered her. Cersei had not had a friend she so enjoyed since Melara Hetherspoon, and Melara had turned out to be a greedy little schemer with ideas above her station. I should not think ill of her. She's dead and drowned, and she taught me never to trust anyone but Jaime."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "By the time she joined them in the solar, her guests had made a good start on the hippocras. Lady Falyse not only looks like a fish, she drinks like one, she reflected, when she made note of the half-empty flagon. \"Sweet Falyse,\" she exclaimed, kissing the woman's cheek, \"and brave Ser Balman. I was so distraught when I heard about your dear, dear mother. How fares our Lady Tanda?\"\n\nLady Falyse looked as if she were about to cry. \"Your Grace is good to ask. Mother's hip was shattered by the fall, Maester Frenken says. He did what he could. Now we pray, but...\"\n\nPray all you like, she will still be dead before the moon turns. Women as old as Tanda Stokeworth did not survive a broken hip. \"I shall add my prayers to your own,\" said Cersei. \"Lord Qyburn tells me that Tanda was thrown from her horse.\"\n\n\"Her saddle girth burst whilst she was riding,\" said Ser Balman Byrch. \"The stableboy should have seen the strap was worn. He has been chastised.\"\n\n\"Severely, I hope.\" The queen seated herself and indicated that her guests should sit as well. \"Will you have another cup of hippocras, Falyse? You were always fond of it, I seem to recall.\"\n\n\"It is so good of you to remember, Your Grace.\"\n\nHow could I have forgotten? Cersei thought. Jaime said it was a wonder you did not piss the stuff. \"How was your journey?\"\n\n\"Uncomfortable,\" complained Falyse. \"It rained most of the day. We thought to spend the night at Rosby, but that young ward of Lord Gyles refused us hospitality.\" She sniffed. \"Mark my word, when Gyles dies that ill-born wretch will make off with his gold. He may even try and claim the lands and lordship, though by rights Rosby should come to us when Gyles passes. My lady mother was aunt to his second wife, third cousin to Gyles himself.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Is your sigil a lamb, my lady, or some sort of grasping monkey?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cersei thought. \"Lord Gyles has been threatening to die for as long as I have known him, but he is still with us, and will be for many years, I do hope.\" She smiled pleasantly. \"No doubt he will cough the whole lot of us into our graves.\"\n\n\"Like as not,\" Ser Balman agreed. \"Rosby's ward was not the only one to vex us, Your Grace. We encountered ruffians on the road as well. Filthy, unkempt creatures, with leather shields and axes. Some had stars sewn on their jerkins, sacred stars of seven points, but they had an evil look about them all the same.\"\n\n\"They were lice-ridden, I am certain,\" added Falyse.\n\n\"They call themselves sparrows,\" said Cersei. \"A plague upon the land. Our new High Septon will need to deal with them, once he is crowned. If not, I shall deal with them myself.\"\n\n\"Has His High Holiness been chosen yet?\" asked Falyse.\n\n\"No,\" the queen had to confess. \"Septon Ollidor was on the verge of being chosen, until some of these sparrows followed him to a brothel and dragged him naked out into the street. Luceon seems the likely choice now, though our friends on the other hill say that he is still a few votes short of the required number.\"\n\n\"May the Crone guide the deliberations with her golden lamp of wisdom,\" said Lady Falyse, most piously.\n\nSer Balman shifted in his seat. \"Your Grace, an awkward matter, but... lest bad feeling fester between us, you should know that neither my good wife nor her mother had any hand in the naming of this bastard child. Lollys is a simple creature, and her husband is given to black humors. I told him to choose a more fitting name for the boy. He laughed.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The queen sipped her wine and studied him. Ser Balman had been a noted jouster once, and one of the handsomest knights in the Seven Kingdoms. He could still boast a handsome mustache; elsewise, he had not aged well. His wavy blond hair had retreated, whilst his belly advanced inexorably against his doublet. As a catspaw he leaves much to be desired, she reflected. Still, he should serve. \"Tyrion was a king's name before the dragons came. The Imp has despoiled it, but perhaps this child can restore the name to honor.\" If the bastard lives so long. \"I know you are not to blame. Lady Tanda is the sister that I never had, and you...\" Her voice broke. \"Forgive me. I live in fear.\"\n\nFalyse opened and closed her mouth, which made her look like some especially stupid fish. \"In... in fear, Your Grace?\"\n\n\"I have not slept a whole night through since Joffrey died.\" Cersei filled the goblets with hippocras. \"My friends... you are my friends, I hope? And King Tommen's?\"\n\n\"That sweet lad,\" Ser Balman declared. \"Your Grace, the very words of House Stokeworth are Proud to Be Faithful.\"\n\n\"Would that there were more like you, good ser. I tell you truly, I have grave doubts about Ser Bronn of the Blackwater.\"\n\nHusband and wife exchanged a look. \"The man is insolent, Your Grace,\" Falyse said. \"Uncouth and foul-mouthed.\"\n\n\"He is no true knight,\" Ser Balman said.\n\n\"No.\" Cersei smiled, all for him. \"And you area man who would know true knighthood. I remember watching you joust in... which tourney was it where you fought so brilliantly, ser?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He smiled modestly. \"That affair at Duskendale six years ago? No, you were not there, else you would surely have been crowned the queen of love and beauty. Was it the tourney at Lannisport after Greyjoy's Rebellion? I unhorsed many a good knight in that one...\"\n\n\"That was the one.\" Her face grew somber. \"The Imp vanished the night my father died, leaving two honest gaolers behind in pools of blood. Some claim he fled across the narrow sea, but I wonder. The dwarf is cunning. Perhaps he still lurks near, planning more murders. Perhaps some friend is hiding him.\"\n\n\"Bronn?\" Ser Balman stroked his bushy mustache.\n\n\"He was ever the Imp's creature. Only the Stranger knows how many men he's sent to hell at Tyrion's behest.\"\n\n\"Your Grace, I think I should have noticed a dwarf skulking about our lands,\" said Ser Balman.\n\n\"My brother is small. He was made for skulking.\" Cersei let her handshake. \"A child's name is a small thing... but insolence unpunished breeds rebellion. And this man Bronn has been gathering sellswords to him, Qyburn has told me.\"\n\n\"He has taken four knights into his household,\" said Falyse.\n\nSer Balman snorted. \"My good wife flatters them, to call them knights. They're upjumped sellswords, with not a thimble of chivalry to be found amongst the four of them.\"\n\n\"As I feared. Bronn is gathering swords for the dwarf. May the Seven save my little son. The Imp will kill him as he killed his brother.\" She sobbed. \"My friends, I put my honor in your hands... but what is a queen's honor against a mother's fears?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Say on, Your Grace,\" Ser Balman assured her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your words shall ne'er leave this room.\"\n\nCersei reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. \"I... I would sleep more easily of a night if I were to hear that Ser Bronn had suffered a... a mishap... whilst hunting, perhaps.\"\n\nSer Balman considered a moment. \"A mortal mishap?\"\n\nNo, I desire you to break his little toe. She had to bite her lip. My enemies are everywhere and my friends are fools. \"I beg you, ser,\" she whispered, \"do not make me say it...\"\n\n\"I understand.\" Ser Balman raised a finger.\n\nA turnip would have grasped it quicker. \"You area true knight indeed, ser. The answer to a frightened mother's prayers.\" Cersei kissed him. \"Do it quickly, if you would. Bronn has only a few men about him now, but if we do not act, he will surely gather more.\" She kissed Falyse. \"I shall never forget this, my friends. My true friends of Stokeworth. Proud to Be Faithful. You have my word, we shall find Lollys a better husband when this is done.\" A Kettleblack, perhaps. \"We Lannisters pay our debts.\"\n\nThe rest was hippocras and buttered beets, hot-baked bread, herb-crusted pike, and ribs of wild boar. Cersei had become very fond of boar since Robert's death. She did not even mind the company, though Falyse simpered and Balman preened from soup to sweet. It was past midnight before she could rid herself of them. Ser Balman proved a great one for suggesting yet another flagon, and the queen did not think it prudent to refuse. I could have hired a Faceless Man to kill Bronn for half of what I've spent on hippocras, she reflected when they were gone at last."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At that hour, her son was fast asleep, but Cersei looked in upon him before seeking her own bed. She was surprised to find three black kittens cuddled up beside him. \"Where did those come from?\" she asked Ser Meryn Trant, outside the royal bedchamber.\n\n\"The little queen gave them to him. She only meant to give him one, but he couldn't decide which one he liked the best.\"\n\nBetter than cutting them out of their mother with a dagger, I suppose. Margaery's clumsy attempts at seduction were so obvious as to be laughable. Tommen is too young for kisses, so she gives him kittens. Cersei rather wished they were not black, though. Black cats brought ill luck, as Rhaegar's little girl had discovered in this very castle. She would have been my daughter, if the Mad King had not played his cruel jape on Father. It had to have been the madness that led Aerys to refuse Lord Tywin's daughter and take his son instead, whilst marrying his own son to a feeble Dornish princess with black eyes and a flat chest.\n\nThe memory of the rejection still rankled, even after all these years. Many a night she had watched Prince Rhaegar in the hall, playing his silver-stringed harp with those long, elegant fingers of his. Had any man ever been so beautiful? He was more than a man, though. His blood was the blood of old Valyria, the blood of dragons and gods. When she was just a little girl, her father had promised her that she would marry Rhaegar. She could not have been more than six or seven. \"Never speak of it, child,\" he had told her, smiling his secret smile that only Cersei ever saw. \"Not until His Grace agrees to the betrothal. It must remain our secret for now.\" And so it had, though once she had drawn a picture of herself flying behind Rhaegar on a dragon, her arms wrapped tight about his chest. When Jaime had discovered it she told him it was Queen Alysanne and King Jaehaerys."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was ten when she finally saw her prince in the flesh, at the tourney her lord father had thrown to welcome King Aerys to the west. Viewing stands had been raised beneath the walls of Lannisport, and the cheers of the smallfolk had echoed off Casterly Rock like rolling thunder. They cheered Father twice as loudly as they cheered the king, the queen recalled, but only half as loudly as they cheered Prince Rhaegar.\n\nSeventeen and new to knighthood, Rhaegar Targaryen had worn black plate over golden ringmail when he cantered onto the lists. Long streamers of red and gold and orange silk had floated behind his helm, like flames. Two of her uncles fell before his lance, along with a dozen of her father's finest jousters, the flower of the west. By night the prince played his silver harp and made her weep. When she had been presented to him, Cersei had almost drowned in the depths of his sad purple eyes. He has been wounded, she recalled thinking, but I will mend his hurt when we are wed. Next to Rhaegar, even her beautiful Jaime had seemed no more than a callow boy. The prince is going to be my husband, she had thought, giddy with excitement, and when the old king dies I'll be the queen. Her aunt had confided that truth to her before the tourney. \"You must be especially beautiful,\" Lady Genna told her, fussing with her dress, \"for at the final feast it shall be announced that you and Prince Rhaegar are betrothed.\"\n\nCersei had been so happy that day. Elsewise she would never have dared visit the tent of Maggy the Frog. She had only done it to show Jeyne and Melara that the lioness fears nothing. I was going to be a queen. Why should a queen be afraid of some hideous old woman? The memory of that foretelling still made her flesh crawl a lifetime later. Jeyne ran shrieking from the tent in fear, the queen remembered, but Melara stayed and so did I. We let her taste our blood, and laughed at her stupid prophecies. None of them made the least bit of sense. She was going to be Prince Rhaegar's wife, no matter what the woman said. Her father had promised it, and Tywin Lannister's word was gold."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her laughter died at tourney's end. There had been no final feast, no toasts to celebrate her betrothal to Prince Rhaegar. Only cold silences and chilly looks between the king and her father. Later, when Aerys and his son and all his gallant knights had departed for King's Landing, the girl had gone to her aunt in tears, not understanding. \"Your father proposed the match,\" Lady Genna told her, \"but Aerys refused to hear of it. \"You are my most able servant, Tywin,\" the king said, \"but a man does not marry his heir to his servant's daughter. ' Dry those tears, little one. Have you ever seen a lion weep? Your father will find another man for you, a better man than Rhaegar.\"\n\nHer aunt had lied, though, and her father had failed her, just as Jaime was failing her now. Father found no better man. Instead he gave me Robert, and Maggy's curse bloomed like some poisonous flower. If she had only married Rhaegar as the gods intended, he would never have looked twice at the wolf girl. Rhaegar would be our king today and I would be his queen, the mother of his sons.\n\nShe had never forgiven Robert for killing him.\n\nBut then, lions were not good at forgiving. As Ser Bronn of the Blackwater would shortly learn."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "BRIENNE\n\nIt was Hyle Hunt who insisted that they take the heads. \"Tarly will want them for the walls,\" he said.\n\n\"We have no tar,\" Brienne pointed out. \"The flesh will rot. Leave them.\" She did not want to travel through the green gloom of the piney woods with the heads of the men she'd killed.\n\nHunt would not listen. He hacked through the dead men's necks himself, tied the three heads together by the hair, and slung them from his saddle. Brienne had no choice but to try and pretend they were not there, but sometimes, especially at night, she could feel their dead eyes on her back, and once she dreamed she heard them whispering to one another.\n\nIt was cold and wet on Crackclaw Point as they retraced their steps. Some days it rained and some days it threatened rain. They were never warm. Even when they made camp, it was hard to find enough dry wood fora fire.\n\nBy the time they reached the gates of Maidenpool, a host of flies attended them, a crow had eaten Shagwell's eyes, and Pyg and Timeon were crawling with maggots. Brienne and Podrick had long since taken to riding a hundred yards ahead, to keep the smell of rot well behind them. Ser Hyle claimed to have lost all sense of smell by then. \"Bury them,\" she told him every time they made camp fora night, but Hunt was nothing if not stubborn. He will most like tell Lord Randyll that he slew all three of them.\n\nTo his honor, though, the knight did nothing of the sort.\n\n\"The stammering squire threw a rock,\" he said, when he and Brienne were ushered into Tarly's presence in the yard of Mooton's castle. The heads had been presented to a serjeant of the guard, who was told to have them cleaned and tarred and mounted above the gate. \"The swordswench did the rest.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"All three?\" Lord Randyll was incredulous.\n\n\"The way she fought, she could have killed three more.\"\n\n\"And did you find the Stark girl?\" Tarly demanded of her.\n\n\"No, my lord.\"\n\n\"Instead you slew some rats. Did you enjoy it?\"\n\n\"No, my lord.\"\n\n\"A pity. Well, you've had your taste of blood. Proved whatever it is you meant to prove. It's time you took off that mail and donned proper clothes again. There are ships in port. One's bound to stop at Tarth. I'll have you on it.\"\n\n\"Thank you, my lord, but no.\"\n\nLord Tarly's face suggested he would have liked nothing better than to stick her own head on a spike and mount it above the gates of Maidenpool with Timeon, Pyg, and Shagwell. \"You mean to continue with this folly?\"\n\n\"I mean to find the Lady Sansa.\"\n\n\"If it please my lord,\" Ser Hyle said, \"I watched her fight the Mummers. She is stronger than most men, and quick-\"\n\n\"The sword is quick,\" Tarly snapped. \"That is the nature of Valyrian steel. Stronger than most men? Aye. She's a freak of nature, far be it from me to deny it.\"\n\nHis sort will never love me, Brienne thought, no matter what I do. \"My lord, it maybe that Sandor Clegane has some knowledge of the girl. If I could find him...\"\n\n\"Clegane's turned outlaw. He rides with Beric Dondarrion now, it would seem. Or not, the tales vary. Show me where they're hiding, I will gladly slit their bellies open, pull their entrails out, and burn them. We've hanged dozens of outlaws, but the leaders still elude us. Clegane, Dondarrion, the red priest, and now this woman Stoneheart... how do you propose to find them, when I cannot?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My lord, I...\" She had no good answer for him. \"All I can do is try.\"\n\n\"Try, then. You have your letter, you do not need my leave, but I'll give it nonetheless. If you're fortunate, all you'll get for your trouble are saddle sores. If not, perhaps Clegane will let you live after he and his pack are done raping you. You can crawl back to Tarth with some dog's bastard in your belly.\"\n\nBrienne ignored that. \"If it please my lord, how many men ride with the Hound?\"\n\n\"Six or sixty or six hundred. It would seem to depend on whom we ask.\" Randyll Tarly had plainly had enough of the conversation. He started to turn away.\n\n\"If my squire and I might beg your hospitality until-\"\n\n\"Beg all you want. I will not suffer you beneath my roof.\"\n\nSer Hyle Hunt stepped forward. \"If it please my lord, I had understood that it was still Lord Mooton's roof.\"\n\nTarly gave the knight a venomous look. \"Mooton has the courage of a worm. You will not speak tome of Mooton. As for you, my lady, it is said that your father is a good man. If so, I pity him. Some men are blessed with sons, some with daughters. No man deserves to be cursed with such as you. Live or die, Lady Brienne, do not return to Maidenpool whilst I rule here.\"\n\nWords are wind, Brienne told herself. They cannot hurt you. Let them wash over you. \"As you command, my lord,\" she tried to say, but Tarly had gone before she got it out. She walked from the yard like one asleep, not knowing where she was going."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Hyle fell in beside her. \"There are inns.\"\n\nShe shook her head. She did not want words with Hyle Hunt.\n\n\"Do you recall the Stinking Goose?\"\n\nHer cloak still smelled of it. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Meet me thereon the morrow, at midday. My cousin Alyn was one of those sent out to find the Hound. I'll speak with him.\"\n\n\"Why would you do that?\"\n\n\"Why not? If you succeed where Alyn failed, I shall be able to taunt him with that for years.\"\n\nThere were still inns in Maidenpool; Ser Hyle had not been wrong. Some had burned during one sack or the other, however, and had yet to be rebuilt, and those that remained were full to bursting with men from Lord Tarly's host. She and Podrick visited all of them that afternoon, but there were no beds to be had anywhere.\n\n\"Ser? My lady?\" Podrick said as the sun was going down. \"There are ships. Ships have beds. Hammocks. Or bunks.\"\n\nLord Randyll's men still prowled the docks, as thick as the flies had been on the heads of the three Bloody Mummers, but their serjeant knew Brienne by sight and let her pass. The local fisherfolk were tying up for the night and crying the day's catch, but her interest was in the larger ships that plied the stormy waters of the narrow sea. Half a dozen were in port, though one, a galleas called the Titan's Daughter, was casting off her lines to ride out on the evening tide. She and Podrick Payne made the rounds of the ships that remained. The master of the Gulltown Girl took Brienne fora whore and told them that his ship was not a bawdy house, and a harpooner on the Ibbenese whaler offered to buy her boy, but they had better fortune elsewhere. She purchased Podrick an orange on the Seastrider, a cog just in from Oldtown byway of Tyrosh, Pentos, and Duskendale. \"Gulltown next,\" her captain told her, \"thence around the Fingers to Sisterton and White Harbor, if the storms allow. She's a clean ship, \"Strider, not so many rats as most, and we'll have fresh eggs and new-churned butter aboard. Is m'lady seeking passage north?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not yet. She was tempted, but...\n\nAs they were making their way to the next pier, Podrick shuffled his feet, and said, \"Ser? My lady? What if my lady did go home? My other lady, I mean. Ser. Lady Sansa.\"\n\n\"They burned her home.\"\n\n\"Still. That's where her gods are. And gods can't die.\"\n\nGods cannot die, but girls can. \"Timeon was a cruel man and a murderer, but I do not think he lied about the Hound. We cannot go north until we know for certain. There will be other ships.\"\n\nAt the east end of the harbor they finally found shelter for the night, aboard a storm-wracked trading galley called the Lady of Myr. She was listing badly, having lost her mast and half her crew in a storm, but her master did not have the coin he needed to refit her, so he was glad to take a few pennies from Brienne and allow her and Pod to share an empty cabin.\n\nThey had a restless night. Thrice Brienne woke. Once when the rain began, and once at a creak that made her think Nimble Dick was creeping into kill her. The second time, she woke with knife in hand, but it was nothing. In the darkness of the cramped little cabin, it took her a moment to remember that Nimble Dick was dead. When she finally drifted back to sleep, she dreamed about the men she'd killed. They danced around her, mocking her, pinching at her as she slashed at them with her sword. She cut them all to bloody ribbons, yet still they swarmed around her... Shagwell, Timeon, and Pyg, aye, but Randyll Tarly too, and Vargo Hoat, and Red Ronnet Connington. Ronnet had arose between his fingers. When he held it out to her, she cut his hand off."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She woke sweating, and spent the rest of the night huddled under her cloak, listening to rain pound against the deck over her head."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was a wild night. From time to time she heard the sound of distant thunder, and thought of the Braavosi ship that had sailed upon the evening tide.\n\nThe next morning she found the Stinking Goose again, woke its slatternly proprietor, and paid her for some greasy sausages, fried bread, half a cup of wine, a flagon of boiled water, and two clean cups. The woman squinted at Brienne as she was putting the water onto boil. \"You're the big one went off with Nimble Dick. I remember. He cheat you?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Rape you?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Steal your horse?\"\n\n\"No. He was slain by outlaws.\"\n\n\"Outlaws?\" The woman seemed more curious than upset. \"I always figured Dick would hang, or get sent off to that Wall.\"\n\nThey ate the fried bread and half the sausages. Podrick Payne washed his down with wine-flavored water whilst Brienne nursed a cup of watered wine and wondered why she'd come. Hyle Hunt was no true knight. His honest face was just a mummer's mask. I do not need his help, I do not need his protection, and I do not need him, she told herself. He is probably not even coming. Telling me to meet him here was just another jape.\n\nShe was getting up to go when Ser Hyle arrived. \"My lady. Podrick.\" He glanced at the cups and plates and the half-eaten sausages cooling in a puddle of grease, and said, \"Gods, I hope you did not eat the food here.\"\n\n\"What we ate is no concern of yours,\" Brienne said. \"Did you find your cousin? What did he tell you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sandor Clegane was last seen in Saltpans, the day of the raid. Afterward he rode west, along the Trident.\"\n\nShe frowned. \"The Trident is along river.\"\n\n\"Aye, but I don't think our dog will have wandered too far from its mouth. Westeros has lost its charm for him, it would seem. At Saltpans he was looking fora ship.\" Ser Hyle drew a roll of sheepskin from his boot, pushed the sausages aside, and unrolled it. It proved to be a map. \"The Hound butchered three of his brother's men at the old inn by the crossroads, here. He led the raid on Saltpans, here.\" He tapped Saltpans with his finger. \"He maybe trapped. The Freys are up here at the Twins, Darry and Harrenhal are south across the Trident, west he's got the Blackwoods and the Brackens fighting, and Lord Randyll's here at Maidenpool. The highroad to the Vale is closed by snow, even if he could get past the mountain clans. Where's a dog to go?\"\n\n\"If he is with Dondarrion...?\"\n\n\"He's not. Alyn is certain of that. Dondarrion's men are looking for him too. They have putout word that they mean to hang him for what he did at Saltpans. They had no part of that. Lord Randyll is putting it about that they did in hopes of turning the commons against Beric and his brotherhood. He will never take the lightning lord so long as the smallfolk are protecting him. And there's this other band, led by this woman Stoneheart... Lord Beric's lover, according to one tale. Supposedly she was hanged by the Freys, but Dondarrion kissed her and brought her back to life, and now she cannot die, no more than he can.\" Brienne considered the map. \"If Clegane was last seen at Saltpans, that would be the place to find his trail.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 28"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sandor Clegane was last seen in Saltpans, the day of the raid. Afterward he rode west, along the Trident.\"\n\nShe frowned. \"The Trident is along river.\"\n\n\"Aye, but I don't think our dog will have wandered too far from its mouth. Westeros has lost its charm for him, it would seem. At Saltpans he was looking fora ship.\" Ser Hyle drew a roll of sheepskin from his boot, pushed the sausages aside, and unrolled it. It proved to be a map. \"The Hound butchered three of his brother's men at the old inn by the crossroads, here. He led the raid on Saltpans, here.\" He tapped Saltpans with his finger. \"He maybe trapped. The Freys are up here at the Twins, Darry and Harrenhal are south across the Trident, west he's got the Blackwoods and the Brackens fighting, and Lord Randyll's here at Maidenpool. The highroad to the Vale is closed by snow, even if he could get past the mountain clans. Where's a dog to go?\"\n\n\"If he is with Dondarrion...?\"\n\n\"He's not. Alyn is certain of that. Dondarrion's men are looking for him too. They have putout word that they mean to hang him for what he did at Saltpans. They had no part of that. Lord Randyll is putting it about that they did in hopes of turning the commons against Beric and his brotherhood. He will never take the lightning lord so long as the smallfolk are protecting him. And there's this other band, led by this woman Stoneheart... Lord Beric's lover, according to one tale. Supposedly she was hanged by the Freys, but Dondarrion kissed her and brought her back to life, and now she cannot die, no more than he can.\" Brienne considered the map. \"If Clegane was last seen at Saltpans, that would be the place to find his trail.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There is no one left at Saltpans but an old knight hiding in his castle, Alyn said.\"\n\n\"Still, it would be a place to start.\"\n\n\"There's a man,\" Ser Hyle said. \"A septon. He came in through my gate the day before you turned up. Meribald, his name is. River-born and river-bred and he's served here all his life. He's departing on the morrow to make his circuit, and he always calls at Saltpans. We should go with him.\"\n\nBrienne looked up sharply. \"We?\"\n\n\"I am going with you.\"\n\n\"You're not.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm going with Septon Meribald to Saltpans. You and Podrick can go wherever you bloody well like.\"\n\n\"Did Lord Randyll command you to follow me again?\"\n\n\"He commanded me to stay away from you. Lord Randyll is of the view that you might benefit from a good hard raping.\"\n\n\"Then why would you come with me?\"\n\n\"It was that, or return to gate duty.\"\n\n\"If your lord commanded-\"\n\n\"He is no longer my lord.\"\n\nThat took her aback. \"You left his service?\"\n\n\"His lordship informed me that he had no further need of my sword, or my insolence. It amounts to the same thing. Henceforth I shall enjoy the adventuresome life of a hedge knight... though if we do find Sansa Stark, I imagine we will be well rewarded.\"\n\nGold and land, that's what he sees in this. \"I mean to save the girl, not sell her. I swore avow.\"\n\n\"I don't recall that I did.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That is why you will not becoming with me.\"\n\nThey left the next morning, as the sun was coming up.\n\nIt was a queer procession: Ser Hyle on a chestnut courser and Brienne on her tall grey mare, Podrick Payne astride his swayback stot, and Septon Meribald walking beside them with his quarterstaff, leading a small donkey and a large dog. The donkey carried such a heavy load that Brienne was half afraid its back would break. \"Food for the poor and hungry of the riverlands,\" Septon Meribald told them at the gates of Maidenpool. \"Seeds and nuts and dried fruit, oaten porridge, flour, barley bread, three wheels of yellow cheese from the inn by the Fool's Gate, salt cod for me, salt mutton for Dog... oh, and salt. Onions, carrots, turnips, two sacks of beans, four of barley, and nine of oranges. I have a weakness for the orange, I confess. I got these from a sailor, and I fear they will be the last I'll taste till spring.\"\n\nMeribald was a septon without a sept, only one step up from a begging brother in the hierarchy of the Faith. There were hundreds like him, a ragged band whose humble task it was to trudge from one flyspeck of a village to the next, conducting holy services, performing marriages, and forgiving sins. Those he visited were expected to feed and shelter him, but most were as poor as he was, so Meribald could not linger in one place too long without causing hardship to his hosts. Kindly innkeeps would sometimes allow him to sleep in their kitchens or their stables, and there were septries and holdfasts and even a few castles where he knew he would be given hospitality. Where no such places were at hand, he slept beneath the trees or under hedges. \"There are many fine hedges in the riverlands,\" Meribald said. \"The old ones are the best. There's nothing beats a hundred-year-old hedge. Inside one of those a man can sleep as snug as at an inn, and with less fear of fleas.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The septon could neither read nor write, as he cheerfully confessed along the road, but he knew a hundred different prayers and could recite long passages from The Seven-Pointed Star from memory, which was all that was required in the villages. He had a seamed, windburnt face, a shock of thick grey hair, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Though a big man, six feet tall, he had away of hunching forward as he walked that made him seem much shorter. His hands were large and leathery, with red knuckles and dirt beneath the nails, and he had the biggest feet that Brienne had ever seen, bare and black and hard as horn.\n\n\"I have not worn a shoe in twenty years,\" he told Brienne. \"The first year, I had more blisters than I had toes, and my soles would bleed like pigs whenever I trod on a hard stone, but I prayed and the Cobbler Above turned my skin to leather.\"\n\n\"There is no cobbler above,\" Podrick protested.\n\n\"There is, lad... though you may call him by another name. Tell me, which of the seven gods do you love best?\"\n\n\"The Warrior,\" said Podrick without a moment's hesitation.\n\nBrienne cleared her throat. \"At Evenfall my father's septon always said that there was but one god.\"\n\n\"One god with seven aspects. That's so, my lady, and you are right to point it out, but the mystery of the Seven Who Are One is not easy for simple folk to grasp, and I am nothing if not simple, so I speak of seven gods.\" Meribald turned back to Podrick. \"I have never known a boy who did not love the Warrior. I am old, though, and being old, I love the Smith. Without his labor, what would the Warrior defend? Every town has a smith, and every castle. They make the plows we need to plant our crops, the nails we use to build our ships, iron shoes to save the hooves of our faithful horses, the bright swords of our lords. No one could doubt the value of a smith, and so we name one of the Seven in his honor, but we might as easily have called him the Farmer or the Fisherman, the Carpenter or the Cobbler. What he works at makes no matter. What matters is, he works. The Father rules, the Warrior fights, the Smith labors, and together they perform all that is rightful fora man. Just as the Smith is one aspect of the godhead, the Cobbler is one aspect of the Smith. It was he who heard my prayer and healed my feet.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The gods are good,\" Ser Hyle said in a dry voice, \"but why trouble them, when you might just have kept your shoes?\"\n\n\"Going barefoot was my penance. Even holy septons can be sinners, and my flesh was weak as weak could be. I was young and full of sap, and the girls... a septon can seem as gallant as a prince if he is the only man you know who has ever been more than a mile from your village. I would recite to them from The Seven-Pointed Star. The Maiden's Book worked best. Oh, I was a wicked man, before I threw away my shoes. It shames me to think of all the maidens I deflowered.\"\n\nBrienne shifted in the saddle uncomfortably, thinking back to the camp below the walls of Highgarden and the wager Ser Hyle and the others had made to see who could bed her first.\n\n\"We're looking fora maiden,\" confided Podrick Payne. \"A highborn girl of three-and-ten, with auburn hair.\"\n\n\"I had understood that you were seeking outlaws.\"\n\n\"Them too,\" Podrick admitted.\n\n\"Most travelers do all they canto avoid such men,\" said Septon Meribald, \"yet you would seek them out.\"\n\n\"We only seek one outlaw,\" Brienne said. \"The Hound.\"\n\n\"So Ser Hyle told me. May the Seven save you, child. It's said he leaves a trail of butchered babes and ravished maids behind him. The Mad Dog of Saltpans, I have heard him called. What would good folk want with such a creature?\"\n\n\"The maid that Podrick spoke of maybe with him.\"\n\n\"Truly? Then we must pray for the poor girl.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "And for me, thought Brienne, a prayer for meas well. Ask the Crone to raise her lamp and lead me to the Lady Sansa, and the Warrior to give strength to my arm so that I might defend her. She did not say the words aloud, though; not where Hyle Hunt might hear her and mock her for her woman's weakness.\n\nWith Septon Meribald afoot and his donkey bearing such a heavy load, the going was slow all that day. They did not take the main road west, the road that Brienne had once ridden with Ser Jaime when they came the other way to find Maidenpool sacked and full of corpses. Instead they struck off toward the northwest, following the shore of the Bay of Crabs on a crooked track so small that it did not appear on either of Ser Hyle's precious sheepskin maps. The steep hills, black bogs, and piney woods of Crackclaw Point were nowhere to be found this side of Maidenpool. The lands they traveled through were low and wet, a wilderness of sandy dunes and salt marshes beneath avast blue-grey vault of sky. The road was prone to vanishing amongst the reeds and tidal pools, only to appear again a mile farther on; without Meribald, Brienne knew, they surely would have lost their way. The ground was often soft, so in places the septon would walk ahead, tapping with his quarterstaff to make certain of the footing. There were no trees for leagues around, just sea and sky and sand.\n\nNo land could have been more different from Tarth, with its mountains and waterfalls, its high meadows and shadowed vales, yet this place had its own beauty, Brienne thought. They crossed a dozen slow-flowing streams alive with frogs and crickets, watched terns floating high above the bay, heard the sandpipers calling from amongst the dunes. Once a fox crossed their path, and set Meribald's dog to barking wildly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And there were people too. Some lived amongst the reeds in houses built of mud and straw, whilst others fished the bay in leather coracles and built their homes on rickety wooden stilts above the dunes. Most seemed to live alone, out of sight of any human habitation but their own. They seemed ashy folk for the most part, but near midday the dog began to bark again, and three women emerged from the reeds to give Meribald a woven basket full of clams. He gave each of them an orange in return, though clams were as common as mud in this world, and oranges were rare and costly. One of the women was very old, one was heavy with child, and one was a girl as fresh and pretty as a flower in spring. When Meribald took them off to hear their sins, Ser Hyle chuckled, and said, \"It would seem the gods walk with us... at least the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone.\" Podrick looked so astonished that Brienne had to tell him no, they were only three marsh women.\n\nAfterward, when they resumed their journey, she turned to the septon, and said, \"These people live less than a day's ride from Maidenpool, and yet the fighting has not touched them.\"\n\n\"They have little to touch, my lady. Their treasures are shells and stones and leather boats, their finest weapons knives of rusted iron. They are born, they live, they love, they die. They know Lord Mooton rules their lands, but few have ever seen him, and Riverrun and King's Landing are only names to them.\"\n\n\"And yet they know the gods,\" said Brienne. \"That is your work, I think. How long have you walked the riverlands?\"\n\n\"It will be forty years soon,\" the septon said, and his dog gave aloud bark. \"From Maidenpool to Maidenpool, my circuit takes me half a year and ofttimes more, but I will not say I know the Trident. I glimpse the castles of the great lords only at a distance, but I know the market towns and holdfasts, the villages too small to have a name, the hedges and the hills, the rills where a thirsty man can drink and the caves where he can shelter. And the roads the smallfolk use, the crooked muddy tracks that do not appear on parchment maps, I know them too.\" He chuckled. \"I should. My feet have trod every mile of them, ten times over.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The back roads are the ones the outlaws use, and the caves would make fine places for hunted men to hide."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A prickle of suspicion made Brienne wonder just how well Ser Hyle knew this man. \"It must make fora lonely life, septon.\"\n\n\"The Seven are always with me,\" said Meribald, \"and I have my faithful servant, and Dog.\"\n\n\"Does your dog have a name?\" asked Podrick Payne.\n\n\"He must,\" said Meribald, \"but he is not my dog. Not him.\"\n\nThe dog barked and wagged his tail. He was a huge, shaggy creature, ten stone of dog at least, but friendly.\n\n\"Who does he belong to?\" asked Podrick.\n\n\"Why, to himself, and to the Seven. As to his name, he has not told me what it is. I call him Dog.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Podrick did not know what to make of a dog named Dog, plainly. The boy chewed on that awhile, then said, \"I used to have a dog when I was little. I called him Hero.\"\n\n\"Was he?\"\n\n\"Was he what?\"\n\n\"A hero.\"\n\n\"No. He was a good dog, though. He died.\"\n\n\"Dog keeps me safe upon the roads, even in such trying times as these. Neither wolf nor outlaw dare molest me when Dog is at my side.\" The septon frowned. \"The wolves have grown terrible of late. There are places where a man alone would do well to find a tree to sleep in. In all my years the biggest pack I ever saw had fewer than a dozen wolves in it, but the great pack that prowls along the Trident now numbers in the hundreds.\"\n\n\"Have you come on them yourself?\" Ser Hyle asked.\n\n\"I have been spared that, Seven save me, but I have heard them in the night, and more than once. So many voices... a sound to curdle a man's blood. It even set Dog to shivering, and Dog has killed a dozen wolves.\" He ruffled the dog's head. \"Some will tell you that they are demons. They say the pack is led by a monstrous she-wolf, a stalking shadow grim and grey and huge. They will tell you that she has been known to bring aurochs down all by herself, that no trap nor snare can hold her, that she fears neither steel nor fire, slays any wolf that tries to mount her, and devours no other flesh but man.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Hyle Hunt laughed. \"Now you've done it, septon. Poor Podrick's eyes are big as boiled eggs.\"\n\n\"They're not,\" said Podrick, indignant. Dog barked.\n\nThat night they made a cold camp in the dunes. Brienne sent Podrick walking by the shore to find some driftwood fora fire, but he came back empty-handed, with mud up to his knees. \"The tide's out, ser. My lady. There's no water, only mudflats.\"\n\n\"Stay off the mud, child,\" counseled Septon Meribald. \"The mud is not fond of strangers. If you walk in the wrong place, it will open up and swallow you.\"\n\n\"It's only mud,\" insisted Podrick.\n\n\"Until it fills your mouth and starts creeping up your nose. Then it's death.\" He smiled to take the chill off his words. \"Wipe off that mud and have a slice of orange, lad.\"\n\nThe next day was more of the same. They broke their fast on salt cod and more orange slices, and were on their way before the sun was wholly risen, with a pink sky behind them and a purple sky ahead. Dog led the way, sniffing at every clump of reeds and stopping every now and then to piss on one; he seemed to know the road as well as Meribald. The cries of terns shivered through the morning air as the tide came rushing in.\n\nNear midday they stopped at a tiny village, the first they had encountered, where eight of the stilt-houses loomed above a small stream. The men were out fishing in their coracles, but the women and young boys clambered down dangling rope ladders and gathered around Septon Meribald to pray. After the service he absolved their sins and left them with some turnips, a sack of beans, and two of his precious oranges."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Back on the road, the septon said, \"We would do well to keep a watch tonight, my friends. The villagers say they've seen three broken men skulking round the dunes, west of the old watchtower.\"\n\n\"Only three?\" Ser Hyle smiled. \"Three is honey to our swordswench. They're not like to trouble armed men.\"\n\n\"Unless they're starving,\" the septon said. \"There is food in these marshes, but only for those with the eyes to find it, and these men are strangers here, survivors from some battle. If they should accost us, ser, I beg you, leave them tome.\"\n\n\"What will you do with them?\"\n\n\"Feed them. Ask them to confess their sins, so that I might forgive them. Invite them to come with us to the Quiet Isle.\"\n\n\"That's as good as inviting them to slit our throats as we sleep,\" Hyle Hunt replied. \"Lord Randyll has better ways to deal with broken men-steel and hempen rope.\"\n\n\"Ser? My lady?\" said Podrick. \"Is a broken man an outlaw?\"\n\n\"More or less,\" Brienne answered.\n\nSepton Meribald disagreed. \" More less than more. There are many sorts of outlaws, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go outside the law to fight some wicked lord, but most outlaws are more like this ravening Hound than they are the lightning lord. They are evil men, driven by greed, soured by malice, despising the gods and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they maybe just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been more than a mile from the house where they were born until the day some lord came round to take them off to war. Poorly shod and poorly clad, they march away beneath his banners, ofttimes with no better arms than a sickle or a sharpened hoe, or a maul they made themselves by lashing a stone to a stick with strips of hide. Brothers march with brothers, sons with fathers, friends with friends. They've heard the songs and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will see, of the wealth and glory they will win. War seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then they get a taste of battle.\n\n\"For some, that one taste is enough to break them. Others goon for years, until they lose count of all the battles they have fought in, but even a man who has survived a hundred fights can break in his hundred-and-first. Brothers watch their brothers die, fathers lose their sons, friends see their friends trying to hold their entrails in after they've been gutted by an axe.\n\n\"They seethe lord who led them there cut down, and some other lord shouts that they are his now. They take a wound, and when that's still half-healed they take another. There is never enough to eat, their shoes fall to pieces from the marching, their clothes are torn and rotting, and half of them are shitting in their breeches from drinking bad water.\n\n\"If they want new boots or a warmer cloak or maybe a rusted iron halfhelm, they need to take them from a corpse, and before long they are stealing from the living too, from the smallfolk whose lands they're fighting in, men very like the men they used to be. They slaughter their sheep and steal their chickens, and from there it's just a short step to carrying off their daughters too. And one day they look around and realize all their friends and kin are gone, that they are fighting beside strangers beneath a banner that they hardly recognize. They don't know where they are or how to get back home and the lord they're fighting for does not know their names, yet here he comes, shouting for them to form up, to make a line with their spears and scythes and sharpened hoes, to stand their ground. And the knights comedown on them, faceless men clad all in steel, and the iron thunder of their charge seems to fill the world..."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And the man breaks.\n\n\"He turns and runs, or crawls off afterward over the corpses of the slain, or steals away in the black of night, and he finds someplace to hide. All thought of home is gone by then, and kings and lords and gods mean less to him than a haunch of spoiled meat that will let him live another day, or a skin of bad wine that might drown his fear fora few hours. The broken man lives from day today, from meal to meal, more beast than man. Lady Brienne is not wrong. In times like these, the traveler must beware of broken men, and fear them... but he should pity them as well.\"\n\nWhen Meribald was finished a profound silence fell upon their little band. Brienne could hear the wind rustling through a clump of pussywillows, and farther off the faint cry of a loon. She could hear Dog panting softly as he loped along beside the septon and his donkey, tongue lolling from his mouth. The quiet stretched and stretched, until finally she said, \"How old were you when they marched you off to war?\"\n\n\"Why, no older than your boy,\" Meribald replied. \"Too young for such, in truth, but my brothers were all going, and I would not be left behind. Willam said I could be his squire, though Will was no knight, only a potboy armed with a kitchen knife he'd stolen from the inn. He died upon the Stepstones, and never struck a blow. It was fever did for him, and for my brother Robin. Owen died from a mace that split his head apart, and his friend Jon Pox was hanged for rape.\"\n\n\"The War of the Ninepenny Kings?\" asked Hyle Hunt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So they called it, though I never saw a king, nor earned a penny. It was a war, though. That it was.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "SAMWELL\n\nSam stood before the window, rocking nervously as he watched the last light of the sun vanish behind a row of sharp-peaked rooftops. He must have gotten drunk again, he thought glumly. Or else he's met another girl. He did not know whether to curse or weep. Dareon was supposed to be his brother. Ask him to sing, and no one could be better. Ask him to do aught else...\n\nThe mists of evening had begun to rise, sending grey fingers up the walls of the buildings that lined the old canal. \"He promised he'd be back,\" Sam said. \"You heard him too.\"\n\nGilly looked at him with eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Her hair hung about her face, unwashed and tangled. She looked like some wary animal peering through a bush. It had been days since they'd last had afire, yet the wildling girl liked to huddle near the hearth, as if the cold ashes still held some lingering warmth. \"He doesn't like it herewith us,\" she said, whispering so as not to wake the babe. \"It's sad here. He likes it where the wine is, and the smiles.\"\n\nYes, thought Sam, and the wine is everywhere but here. Braavos was full of inns, alehouses, and brothels. And if Dareon preferred afire and a cup of mulled wine to stale bread and the company of a weeping woman, a fat craven, and a sick old man, who could blame him? I could blame him. He said he would be back before the gloaming; he said he would bring us wine and food.\n\nHe looked out the window once more, hoping against hope to seethe singer hurrying home. Darkness was falling across the secret city, creeping through the alleys and down the canals. The good folk of Braavos would soon be shuttering their windows and sliding bars across their doors. Night belonged to the bravos and the courtesans. Dareon's new friends, Sam thought bitterly. They were all the singer could talk about of late. He was trying to write a song about one courtesan, a woman called the Moonshadow who had heard him singing beside the Moon Pool and rewarded him with a kiss. \"You should have asked her for silver,\" Sam had said. \"It's coin we need, not kisses.\" But the singer only smiled. \"Some kisses are worth more than yellow gold, Slayer.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "That made him angry too. Dareon was not supposed to be making up songs about courtesans. He was supposed to be singing about the Wall and the valor of the Night's Watch. Jon had hoped that perhaps his songs might persuade a few young men to take the black. Instead he sang of golden kisses, silvery hair, and red, red lips. No one ever took the black for red, red lips.\n\nSometimes his playing would wake the babe too. Then the child would begin to wail, Dareon would shout at him to be quiet, Gilly would weep, and the singer would storm out and not return for days. \"All that weeping makes me want to slap her,\" he complained, \"and I can scarce sleep for her sobbing.\"\n\nYou would weep as well if you had a son and lost him, Sam almost said. He could not blame Gilly for her grief. Instead, he blamed Jon Snow and wondered when Jon's heart had turned to stone. Once he asked Maester Aemon that very question, when Gilly was down at the canal fetching water for them. \"When you raised him up to be the lord commander,\" the old man answered.\n\nEven now, rotting herein this cold room beneath the eaves, part of Sam did not want to believe that Jon had done what Maester Aemon thought. It must be true, though. Why else would Gilly weep so much? All he had to do was ask her whose child she was nursing at her breast, but he did not have the courage. He was afraid of the answer he might get. I am still a craven, Jon. No matter where he went in this wide world, his fears went with him.\n\nA hollow rumbling echoed off the roofs of Braavos, like the sound of distant thunder; the Titan, sounding nightfall from across the lagoon. The noise was loud enough to wake the babe, and his sudden wail woke Maester Aemon. As Gilly went to give the boy the breast, the old man's eyes opened, and he stirred feebly in his narrow bed. \"Egg? It's dark. Why is it so dark?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Because you're blind."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aemon's wits were wandering more and more since they arrived at Braavos. Some days he did not seem to know where he was. Some days he would lose his way when saying something and begin to ramble on about his father or his brother. He is one hundred and two, Sam reminded himself, but he had been just as old at Castle Black and his wits had never wandered there.\n\n\"It's me,\" he had to say. \"Samwell Tarly. Your steward.\"\n\n\"Sam.\" Maester Aemon licked his lips, and blinked. \"Yes. And this is Braavos. Forgive me, Sam. Is morning come?\"\n\n\"No.\" Sam felt the old man's brow. His skin was damp with sweat, cool and clammy to the touch, his every breath a soft wheeze. \"It's night, maester. You've been asleep.\"\n\n\"Too long. It's cold inhere.\"\n\n\"We have no wood,\" Sam told him, \"and the innkeep will not give us more unless we have the coin.\" It was the fourth or fifth time they'd had this same conversation. I should have used our coin for wood, Sam chided himself every time. I should have had the sense to keep him warm.\n\nInstead he had squandered the last of their silver on a healer from the House of the Red Hands, a tall pale man in robes embroidered with swirling stripes of red and white. All that the silver bought him was half a flask of dreamwine. \"This may help gentle his passing,\" the Braavosi had said, not unkindly. When Sam asked if there wasn't anymore that he could do, he shook his head. \"Ointments I have, potions and infusions, tinctures and venoms and poultices. I might bleed him, purge him, leech him... but why? No leech can make him young again. This is an old man, and death is in his lungs. Give him this and let him sleep.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And so he had, all night and all day, but now the old man was struggling to sit. \"We must go down to the ships.\"\n\nThe ships again. \"You're too weak to go out,\" he had to say. A chill had gotten inside Maester Aemon during the voyage and settled in his chest. By the time they got to Braavos, he had been so weak they'd had to carry him ashore. They'd still had a fat bag of silver then, so Dareon had asked for the inn's biggest bed. The one they'd gotten was large enough to sleep eight, so the innkeep insisted on charging them for that many.\n\n\"On the morrow we can go to the docks,\" Sam promised. \"You can ask about and find which ship is departing next for Oldtown.\" Even in autumn, Braavos was still a busy port. Once Aemon was strong enough to travel, they should have no trouble finding a suitable vessel to take them where they had to go. Paying for their passage would prove more difficult. A ship from the Seven Kingdoms would be their best hope. A trader out of Oldtown, maybe, with kin in the Night's Watch. There must still be some who honor the men who walk the Wall.\n\n\"Oldtown,\" Maester Aemon wheezed. \"Yes. I dreamt of Oldtown, Sam. I was young again and my brother Egg was with me, with that big knight he served. We were drinking in the old inn where they make the fearsomely strong cider.\" He tried to rise again, but the effort proved too much for him. After a moment he settled back. \"The ships,\" he said again. \"We will find our answer there. About the dragons. I need to know.\"\n\nNo, thought Sam, it's food and warmth you need, a full belly and a hot fire crackling in the hearth. \"Are you hungry, maester? We have some bread left, and a bit of cheese.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Not just now, Sam."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Later, when I'm feeling stronger.\"\n\n\"How will you get stronger unless you eat?\" None of them had eaten much at sea, not after Skagos. The autumn gales had hounded them all across the narrow sea. Sometimes they came up from the south, roiling with thunder and lightning and black rains that fell for days. Sometimes they came down from the north, cold and grim, with savage winds that cut right through a man. Once it got so cold that Sam had woken to find the whole ship coated in ice, shining as white as pearl. The captain had taken down their mast and tied it to the deck, to finish the crossing on oars alone. No one had been eating by the time they saw the Titan.\n\nOnce safe ashore, though, Sam had found himself ravenously hungry. It was the same for Dareon and Gilly. Even the babe had begun to suck more lustily. Aemon, though...\n\n\"The bread's gone stale, but I can beg some gravy from the kitchens to soak it in,\" Sam told the old man. The innkeep was a hard man, cold-eyed and suspicious of these black-clad strangers beneath his roof, but his cook was kinder.\n\n\"No. Perhaps a sip of wine, though?\"\n\nThey had no wine. Dareon had promised to buy some with the coin from his singing. \"We'll have wine later,\" Sam had to say. \"There's water, but it's not the good water.\" The good water came over the arches of the great brick aqueduct the Braavosi called the sweetwater river. Rich men had it piped into their homes; the poor filled their pails and buckets at public fountains. Sam had sent Gilly out to get some, forgetting that the wildling girl had lived her whole life insight of Craster's Keep and never seen so much as a market town. The stony maze of islands and canals that was Braavos, devoid of grass and trees and teeming with strangers who spoke to her in words she could not understand, frightened her so badly that she lost the map and soon herself. Sam found her weeping at the stony feet of some long-dead sealord. \"All we have is canal water,\" he told Maester Aemon, \"but the cook gave it a boil. There's dreamwine too, if you need more of that.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have dreamt enough for now. Canal water will suffice. Help me, if you would.\"\n\nSam eased the old man up and held the cup to his dry, cracked lips. Even so, half the water dribbled down the maester's chest. \"Enough,\" Aemon coughed, after a few sips. \"You'll drown me.\" He shivered in Sam's arms. \"Why is the room so cold?\"\n\n\"There's no more wood.\" Dareon had paid the innkeep double fora room with a hearth, but none of them had realized that wood would be so costly here. Trees did not grow on Braavos, save in the courts and gardens of the mighty. Nor would the Braavosi cut the pines that covered the outlying islands around their great lagoon and acted as windbreaks to shield them from storms. Instead, firewood was brought in by barge, up the rivers and across the lagoon. Even dung was dear here; the Braavosi used boats in place of horses. None of that would have mattered if they had departed as planned for Oldtown, but that had proved impossible with Maester Aemon so weak. Another voyage on the open sea would kill him.\n\nAemon's hand crept across the blankets, groping for Sam's arm. \"We must go to the docks, Sam.\"\n\n\"When you are stronger.\" The old man was in no state to brave the salt spray and wet winds along the waterfront, and Braavos was all waterfront. To the north was the Purple Harbor, where Braavosi traders tied up beneath the domes and towers of the Sealord's Palace. To the west lay the Ragman's Harbor, crowded with ships from the other Free Cities, from Westeros and Ibben and the fabled, far-off lands of the east. And everywhere else were little piers and ferry berths and old grey wharves where shrimpers and crabbers and fisherfolk moored after working the mudflats and river mouths. \"It would be too great a strain on you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then go in my stead,\" Aemon urged, \"and bring me someone who has seen these dragons.\"\n\n\"Me?\" Sam was dismayed by the suggestion. \"Maester, it was only a story. A sailor's story.\" Dareon was to blame for this as well. The singer had been bringing back all manner of queer tales from the alehouses and brothels. Unfortunately, he had been in his cups when he heard the one about the dragons and could not recall the details. \"Dareon may have made up the whole story. Singers do that. They make things up.\"\n\n\"They do,\" said Maester Aemon, \"but even the most fanciful song may hold a kernel of truth. Find that truth for me, Sam.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't know who to ask, or how to ask him. I only have a little High Valyrian, and when they speak tome in Braavosi I cannot understand half of what they're saying. You speak more tongues than I do, once you are stronger you can...\"\n\n\"When will I be stronger, Sam? Tell me that.\"\n\n\"Soon. If you rest and eat. When we reach Oldtown...\"\n\n\"I shall not see Oldtown again. I know that now.\" The old man tightened his grip on Sam's arm. \"I will be with my brothers soon. Some were bound tome by vows and some by blood, but they were all my brothers. And my father... he never thought the throne would pass to him, and yet it did. He used to say that was his punishment for the blow that slew his brother. I pray he found the peace in death that he never knew in life. The septons sing of sweet surcease, of laying down our burdens and voyaging to afar sweet land where we may laugh and love and feast until the end of days... but what if there is no land of light and honey, only cold and dark and pain beyond the wall called death?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He is afraid, Sam realized."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are not dying. You're ill, that's all. It will pass.\"\n\n\"Not this time, Sam. I dreamed... in the black of night a man asks all the questions he dare not ask by daylight. For me, these past years, only one question has remained. Why would the gods take my eyes and my strength, yet condemn me to linger on so long, frozen and forgotten? What use could they have for an old done manlike me?\" Aemon's fingers trembled, twigs sheathed in spotted skin. \"I remember, Sam. I still remember.\"\n\nHe was not making sense. \"Remember what?\"\n\n\"Dragons,\" Aemon whispered. \"The grief and glory of my House, they were.\"\n\n\"The last dragon died before you were born,\" said Sam. \"How could you remember them?\"\n\n\"I see them in my dreams, Sam. I see a red star bleeding in the sky. I still remember red. I see their shadows on the snow, hear the crack of leathern wings, feel their hot breath. My brothers dreamed of dragons too, and the dreams killed them, everyone. Sam, we tremble on the cusp of half-remembered prophecies, of wonders and terrors that no man now living could hope to comprehend... or...\"\n\n\"Or?\" said Sam.\n\n\"... or not.\" Aemon chuckled softly. \"Or I am an old man, feverish and dying.\" He closed his white eyes wearily, then forced them open once again. \"I should not have left the Wall. Lord Snow could not have known, but I should have seen it. Fire consumes, but cold preserves. The Wall... but it is too late to go running back. The Stranger waits outside my door and will not be denied. Steward, you have served me faithfully. Do this one last brave thing for me. Go down to the ships, Sam. Learn all you can about these dragons.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sam eased his arm out of the old man's grasp. \"I will. If you want. I only...\" He did not know what else to say. I cannot refuse him. He could look for Dareon as well, along the docks and wharves of the Ragman's Harbor. I will find Dareon first, and we'll go to the ships together. And when we comeback, we'll bring food and wine and wood. We'll have afire and a good hot meal. He rose. \"Well. I should go, then. If I am going. Gilly will be here. Gilly, bar the door when I am gone.\" The Stranger waits outside the door.\n\nGilly nodded, cradling the babe against her breast, her eyes welling full of tears. She is going to weep again, Sam realized. It was more than he could take. His swordbelt hung from a peg on the wall, beside the old cracked horn that Jon had given him. He ripped it down and buckled it about him, then swept his black wool cloak about his rounded shoulders, slumped through the door, and clattered down a wooden stair whose steps creaked beneath his weight. The inn had two front doors, one opening on a street and one on a canal. Sam went out through the former, to avoid the common room where the innkeep was sure to give him the sour eye that he reserved for guests who had overstayed their welcome.\n\nThere was a chill in the air, but the night was not half so foggy as some. Sam was grateful for that much. Sometimes the mists covered the ground so thick that a man could not see his own feet. Once he had come within a step of walking into a canal.\n\nAs a boy Sam had read a history of Braavos and dreamed of one day coming here. He wanted to behold the Titan rising stern and fearsome from the sea, glide down the canals in a serpent boat past all the palaces and temples, and watch the bravos do their water dance, blades flashing in the starlight. But now that he was here, all he wanted was to leave and go to Oldtown."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With his hood up and his cloak flapping, he made his way along the cobblestones toward the Ragman's Harbor. His swordbelt kept threatening to fall down about his ankles, so he had to keep tugging it backup as he went. He stayed to the smaller, darker streets, where he was less likely to encounter anyone, yet every passing cat still made his heart thump... and Braavos crawled with cats. I need to find Dareon, he thought. He is a man of the Night's Watch, my Sworn Brother; he and I will puzzle out what to do. Maester Aemon's strength was gone, and Gilly would have been lost here even if she had not been grief-stricken, but Dareon... I should not think ill of him. He could be hurt, perhaps that is why he did not comeback. He could be dead, lying in some alley in a pool of blood, or floating facedown in one of the canals. At night the bravos swaggered through the city in their parti-colored finery, spoiling to prove their skill with those slender swords they wore. Some would fight for any cause, some for none at all, and Dareon had a loose tongue and quick temper, especially when he'd been drinking. Just because a man can sing about battles doesn't mean he's fit to fight one.\n\nThe best alehouses, inns, and brothels were near the Purple Harbor or the Moon Pool, but Dareon preferred the Ragman's Harbor, where the patrons were more apt to speak the Common Tongue. Sam began his search at the Inn of the Green Eel, the Black Bargeman, and Moroggo's, places where Dareon had played before. He was not to be found at any of them. Outside the Foghouse several serpent boats were tied up awaiting patrons, and Sam tried to ask the polemen if they had seen a singer all in black, but none of the polemen understood his High Valyrian. That, or they do not chose to understand. Sam peered into the dingy winesink beneath the second arch of Nabbo's Bridge, barely large enough to accommodate ten people. Dareon was not one of them. He tried the Outcast Inn, the House of Seven Lamps, and the brothel called the Cattery, where he got strange looks but no help."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Leaving, he almost bumped into two young men beneath the Cattery's red lantern."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One was dark and one was fair. The dark-haired one said something in Braavosi. \"I am sorry,\" Sam had to say. \"I do not understand.\" He edged away from them, afraid. In the Seven Kingdoms nobles draped themselves in velvets, silks, and samites of a hundred hues whilst peasants and smallfolk wore raw wool and dull brown roughspun. In Braavos it was otherwise. The bravos swaggered about like peacocks, fingering their swords, whilst the mighty dressed in charcoal grey and purple, blues that were almost black and blacks as dark as a moonless night.\n\n\"My friend Terro says you are so fat you make him sick,\" said the fair-haired bravo, whose jacket was green velvet on one side and cloth-of-silver on the other. \"My friend Terro says that the rattle of your sword makes his headache.\" He was speaking in the Common Tongue. The other one, the dark-haired bravo in the burgundy brocade and yellow cloak whose name would appear to have been Terro, made some comment in Braavosi, and his fair-haired friend laughed, and said, \"My friend Terro says you dress above your station. Are you some great lord, to wear the black?\"\n\nSam wanted to run, but if he did was like to trip over his own swordbelt. Do not touch your sword, he told himself. Even a finger on the hilt might be enough for one or the other of the bravos to take as a challenge. He tried to think of words that might appease them. \"I'm not-\" was all he managed.\n\n\"He is not a lord,\" a child's voice put in. \"He's in the Night's Watch, stupid. From Westeros.\" A girl edged into the light, pushing a barrow full of seaweed; a scruffy, skinny creature in big boots, with ragged unwashed hair. \"There's another one down at the Happy Port, singing songs to the Sailor's Wife,\" she informed the two bravos. To Sam she said, \"If they ask who is the most beautiful woman in the world, say the Nightingale or else they'll challenge you. Do you want to buy some clams? I sold all my oysters.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have no coin,\" Sam said.\n\n\"He has no coin,\" mocked the fair-haired bravo. His dark-haired friend grinned and said something in Braavosi. \"My friend Terro is chilly. Be our good fat friend and give him your cloak.\"\n\n\"Don't do that either,\" said the barrow girl, \"or else they'll ask for your boots next, and before long you'll be naked.\"\n\n\"Little cats who howl too loud get drowned in the canals,\" warned the fair-haired bravo.\n\n\"Not if they have claws.\" And suddenly there was a knife in the girl's left hand, a blade as skinny as she was. The one called Terro said something to his fair-haired friend and the two of them moved off, chuckling atone another.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Sam told the girl when they were gone.\n\nHer knife vanished. \"If you wear a sword at night it means you can be challenged. Did you want to fight them?\"\n\n\"No.\" It came out in a squeak that made Sam wince.\n\n\"Are you truly in the Night's Watch? I never saw a black brother like you before.\" The girl gestured at the barrow. \"You can have the last clams if you want. It's dark, no one will buy them now. Are you sailing to the Wall?\"\n\n\"To Oldtown.\" Sam took one of the baked clams and wolfed it down. \"We're between ships.\" The clam was good. He ate another.\n\n\"The bravos never bother anyone without a sword. Not even stupid camel cunts like Terro and Orbelo.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"No one.\" She stank offish. \"I used to be someone, but now I'm not. You can call me Cat, if you like. Who are you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Samwell, of House Tarly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You speak the Common Tongue.\"\n\n\"My father was the oarmaster on Nymeria. A bravo killed him for saying that my mother was more beautiful than the Nightingale. Not one of those camel cunts you met, areal bravo. Someday I'll slit his throat. The captain said Nymeria had no need of little girls, so he put me off. Brusco took me in and gave me a barrow.\" She looked up at him. \"What ship will you be sailing on?\"\n\n\"We bought passage on the Lady Ushanora.\"\n\nThe girl squinted at him suspiciously. \"She's gone. Don't you know? She left days and days ago.\"\n\nI know, Sam might have said. He and Dareon had stood on the dock watching the rise and fall of her oars as she beat for the Titan and the open sea. \"Well,\" the singer said, \"that's done.\" If Sam had been a braver man, he would have shoved him into the water. When it came to talking girls out of their clothes Dareon had a honeyed tongue, yet in the captain's cabin somehow Sam had done all the talking, trying to persuade the Braavosi to wait for them. \"Three days I have waited for this old man,\" the captain had said. \"My holds are full, and my men have fucked their wives farewell. With you or without, my Lady leaves on the tide.\"\n\n\"Please,\" Sam had pleaded. \"Just a few more days, that's all I ask. So Maester Aemon can recover his strength.\"\n\n\"He has no strength.\" The captain had visited the inn the night before to see Maester Aemon for himself. \"He is old and ill and I will not have him dying on my Lady. Stay with him or leave him, it matters not tome. I sail.\" Even worse, he had refused to return the passage money they had paid him, the silver that was meant to see them safe to Oldtown. \"You bought my finest cabin. It is there, awaiting you. If you do not choose to occupy it, that is no fault of mine. Why should I bear the loss?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "By now we might beat Duskendale, Sam thought mournfully."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We might even have reached Pentos, if the winds were kind.\n\nBut none of that would matter to the barrow girl. \"You said you saw a singer...\"\n\n\"At the Happy Port. He's going towed the Sailor's Wife.\"\n\n\"Wed?\"\n\n\"She only beds the ones who marry her.\"\n\n\"Where is this Happy Port?\"\n\n\"Across from the Mummer's Ship. I can show you the way.\"\n\n\"I know the way.\" Sam had seen the Mummer's Ship. Dareon cannot wed! He said the words! \"I have to go.\"\n\nHe ran. It was along way over slick cobbles. Before long he was puffing, his big black cloak flapping noisily behind him. He had to keep one hand on his swordbelt as he ran. What few people he encountered gave him curious looks, and once a cat reared up and hissed at him. By the time he reached the ship he was staggering. The Happy Port was just across the alley.\n\nNo sooner had he entered, flushed and out of breath, than a one-eyed woman threw her arms around his neck. \"Don't,\" Sam told her, \"I'm not here for that.\" She answered in Braavosi. \"I do not speak that tongue,\" Sam said in High Valyrian. There were candles burning and afire crackling in the hearth. Someone was sawing on a fiddle, and he saw two girls dancing around a red priest, holding hands. The one-eyed woman pressed her breasts against his chest. \"Don't do that! I'm not here for that!\"\n\n\"Sam!\" Dareon's familiar voice rang out. \"Yna, let him go, that's Sam the Slayer. My Sworn Brother!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The one-eyed woman peeled away, though she kept one hand on his arm. One of the dancers called out, \"He can slay me if he likes,\" and the other said, \"Do you think he'd let me touch his sword?\" Behind them a purple galleas had been painted on the wall, crewed by women clad in thigh-high boots and nothing else. A Tyroshi sailor was passed out in a corner, snoring into his huge scarlet beard. Elsewhere an older woman with huge breasts was turning tiles with a massive Summer Islander in black-and-scarlet feathers. In the center of it all sat Dareon, nuzzling at the neck of the woman in his lap. She was wearing his black cloak.\n\n\"Slayer,\" the singer called out drunkenly, \"come meet my lady wife.\" His hair was sand and honey, his smile warm. \"I sang her love songs. Women melt like butter when I sing. How could I resist this face?\" He kissed her nose. \"Wife, give Slayer a kiss, he's my brother.\" When the girl got to her feet, Sam saw that she was naked underneath the cloak. \"Don't go fondling my wife now, Slayer,\" said Dareon, laughing. \"But if you want one of her sisters, you feel free. I still have coin enough, I think.\"\n\nCoin that might have bought us food, Sam thought, coin that might have bought wood, so Maester Aemon could keep warm. \"What have you done? You can't marry. You said the words, the same as me. They could have your head for this.\"\n\n\"We're only wed for this one night, Slayer. Even in Westeros no one takes your head for that. Haven't you ever gone to Mole's Town to dig for buried treasure?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No.\" Sam reddened. \"I would never...\"\n\n\"What about your wildling wench? You must have fucked her a time or three. All those nights in the woods, huddled together under your cloak, don't you tell me that you never stuck it in her.\" He waved a hand toward a chair. \"Sit down, Slayer. Have a cup of wine. Have a whore. Have both.\"\n\nSam did not want a cup of wine. \"You promised to comeback before the gloaming. To bring back wine and food.\"\n\n\"Is this how you killed that Other? Scolding him to death?\" Dareon laughed. \"She's my wife, not you. If you will not drink to my marriage, go away.\"\n\n\"Come with me,\" said Sam. \"Maester Aemon's woken up and wants to hear about these dragons. He's talking about bleeding stars and white shadows and dreams and... if we could find out more about these dragons, it might help give him ease. Help me.\"\n\n\"On the morrow. Not on my wedding night.\" Dareon pushed himself to his feet, took his bride by the hand, and started toward the stairs, pulling her behind him.\n\nSam blocked his way. \"You promised, Dareon. You said the words. You're supposed to be my brother.\"\n\n\"In Westeros. Does this look like Westeros to you?\"\n\n\"Maester Aemon-\"\n\n\"-is dying. That stripey healer you wasted all our silver on said as much.\" Dareon's mouth had turned hard. \"Have a girl or go away, Sam. You're ruining my wedding.\"\n\n\"I'll go,\" said Sam, \"but you'll come with me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No. I'm done with you. I'm done with black.\" Dareon tore his cloak off his naked bride and tossed it in Sam's face. \"Here. Throw that rag on the old man, it may keep him a little warmer. I shan't be needing it. I'll be clad in velvet soon. Next year I'll be wearing furs and eating-\"\n\nSam hit him.\n\nHe did not think about it. His hand came up, curled into a fist, and crashed into the singer's mouth. Dareon cursed and his naked wife gave a shriek and Sam threw himself onto the singer and knocked him backwards over a low table. They were almost of a height, but Sam weighed twice as much, and for once he was too angry to be afraid. He punched the singer in the face and in the belly, then began to pummel him about the shoulders with both hands. When Dareon grabbed his wrists, Sam butted him with his head and broke his lip. The singer let go and he smashed him in the nose. Somewhere a man was laughing, a woman cursing. The fight seemed to slow, as if they were two black flies struggling in amber. Then someone dragged Sam off the singer's chest. He hit that person too, and something hard crashed into his head.\n\nThe next he knew he was outside, flying headfirst through the fog. For half a heartbeat he saw black water underneath him. Then the canal came up and smashed him in the face.\n\nSam sank like a stone, like a boulder, like a mountain. The water got into his eyes and up his nose, dark and cold and salty. When he tried to shout for help he swallowed more. Kicking and gasping, he rolled over, bubbles bursting from his nose. Swim, he told himself, swim. The brine stung his eyes when he opened them, blinding him. He popped to the surface for just an instant, sucked down air, and slapped desperately with one hand whilst the other scrabbled at the wall of the canal. But the stones were slick and slimy and he could not get a grasp. He sank again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sam could feel the cold against his skin as the water soaked through his clothes. His swordbelt slipped down his legs and tangled round his ankles. I'm going to drown, he thought, in a blind black panic. He thrashed, trying to claw his way back to the surface, but instead his face bumped the bottom of the canal. I'm upside down, he realized, I'm drowning. Something moved beneath one flailing hand, an eel or a fish, slithering through his fingers. I can't drown, Maester Aemon will die without me, and Gilly will have no one. I have to swim, I have to...\n\nThere was a huge splash, and something coiled around him, under his arms and around his chest. The eel, was his first thought, the eel has got me, it's going to pull me down. He opened his mouth to scream, and swallowed more water. I'm drowned, was his last thought. Oh, gods be good, I'm drowned.\n\nWhen he opened his eyes he was on his back and a big black Summer Islander was pounding on his belly with fists the size of hams. Stop that, you're hurting me, Sam tried to scream. Instead of words he retched out water, and gasped. He was sodden and shivering, lying on the cobbles in a puddle of canal water. The Summer Islander punched him in the belly again, and more water came squirting out his nose. \"Stop that,\" Sam gasped. \"I haven't drowned. I haven't drowned.\"\n\n\"No.\" His rescuer leaned over him, huge and black and dripping. \"You owe Xhondo many feathers. The water ruined Xhondo's fine cloak.\"\n\nIt had, Sam saw. The feathered cloak clung to the black man's huge shoulders, sodden and soiled. \"I never meant...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"... to be swimming? Xhondo saw. Too much splashing. Fat men should float.\" He grabbed Sam's doublet with a huge black fist and hauled him to his feet. \"Xhondo mates on Cinnamon Wind. Many tongues he speaks, a little. Inside Xhondo laughs, to see you punch the singer. And Xhondo hears.\" Abroad white smile spread across his face. \"Xhondo knows these dragons.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nI had hoped that by now you would have grown tired of that wretched beard. All that hair makes you look like Robert.\" His sister had put aside her mourning fora jade-green gown with sleeves of silver Myrish lace. An emerald the size of a pigeon's egg hung on a golden chain about her neck.\n\n\"Robert's beard was black. Mine is gold.\"\n\n\"Gold? Or silver?\" Cersei plucked a hair from beneath his chin and held it up. It was grey. \"All the color is draining out of you, brother. You've become a ghost of what you were, a pale crippled thing. And so bloodless, always in white.\" She flicked the hair away. \"I prefer you garbed in crimson and gold.\"\n\nI prefer you dappled in sunlight, with water beading on your naked skin. He wanted to kiss her, carry her to her bedchamber, throw heron the bed.... she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy...\"I will make a bargain with you. Relieve me of this duty, and my razor is yours to command.\"\n\nHer mouth tightened. She had been drinking hot spiced wine and smelled of nutmeg. \"You presume to dicker with me? Need I remind you, you are sworn to obey.\"\n\n\"I am sworn to protect the king. My place is at his side.\"\n\n\"Your place is wherever he sends you.\"\n\n\"Tommen puts his seal on every paper that you put in front of him. This is your doing, and it's folly. Why name Daven your Warden of the West if you have no faith in him?\"\n\nCersei took a seat beneath the window. Behind her Jaime could seethe blackened ruin of the Tower of the Hand. \"Why so reluctant, ser? Did you lose your courage with your hand?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I swore an oath to Lady Stark, never again to take up arms against the Starks or Tullys.\"\n\n\"A drunken promise made with a sword at your throat.\"\n\n\"How can I defend Tommen if I am not with him?\"\n\n\"By defeating his enemies. Father always said that a swift sword stroke is a better defense than any shield. Admittedly, most sword strokes require a hand. Still, even a crippled lion may inspire fear. I want Riverrun. I want Brynden Tully chained or dead. And someone needs to set Harrenhal to rights. We have urgent need of Wylis Manderly, assuming he is still alive and captive, but the garrison has not replied to any of our ravens.\"\n\n\"Those are Gregor's men at Harrenhal,\" Jaime reminded her. \"The Mountain liked them cruel and stupid. Most like they ate your ravens, messages and all.\"\n\n\"That's why I'm sending you. They may eat you as well, brave brother, but I trust you'll give them indigestion.\" Cersei smoothed her skirt. \"I want Ser Osmund to command the Kingsguard in your absence.\"\n\n... she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all I know...\"That's not your choice. If I must go, Ser Loras will command herein my stead.\"\n\n\"Is that a jape? You know how I feel about Ser Loras.\"\n\n\"If you had not sent Balon Swann to Dorne-\"\n\n\"I need him there. These Dornishmen cannot be trusted. That red snake championed Tyrion, have you forgotten that? I will not leave my daughter to their mercy. And I will not have Loras Tyrell commanding the Kingsguard.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ser Loras is thrice the man Ser Osmund is.\"\n\n\"Your notions of manhood have changed somewhat, brother.\"\n\nJaime felt his anger rising. \"True, Loras does not leer at your teats the way Ser Osmund does, but I hardly think-\"\n\n\"Think about this.\" Cersei slapped his face.\n\nJaime made no attempt to block the blow. \"I see I need a thicker beard, to cushion me against my queen's caresses.\" He wanted to rip her gown off and turn her blows to kisses. He'd done it before, back when he had two good hands.\n\nThe queen's eyes were green ice. \"You had best go, ser.\"\n\n... Lancel, Osmund Kettleblack, and Moon Boy...\n\n\"Are you deaf as well as maimed? You'll find the door behind you, ser.\"\n\n\"As you command.\" Jaime turned on his heel and left her.\n\nSomewhere the gods were laughing. Cersei had never taken kindly to being balked, he knew that. Softer words might have swayed her, yet of late the very sight of her made him angry.\n\nPart of him would be glad to put King's Landing behind him. He had no taste for the company of the lickspittles and fools who surrounded Cersei. \"The smallest council,\" they were calling them in Flea Bottom, according to Addam Marbrand. And Qyburn... he might have saved Jaime's life, but he was still a Bloody Mummer. \"Qyburn stinks of secrets,\" he warned Cersei. That only made her laugh. \"We all have secrets, brother,\" she replied.\n\n... she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all I know..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Forty knights and as many esquires awaited him outside the Red Keep's stables. Half were westermen sworn to House Lannister, the others recent foes turned doubtful friends. Ser Dermot of the Rainwood would carry Tommen's standard, Red Ronnet Connington the white banner of the Kingsguard. A Paege, a Piper, and a Peckledon would share the honor of squiring for the Lord Commander. \"Keep friends at your back and foes where you can see them,\" Sumner Crakehall had once counseled him. Or had that been Father?\n\nHis palfrey was a blood bay, his destrier a magnificent grey stallion. It had been long years since Jaime had named any of his horses; he had seen too many die in battle, and that was harder when you named them. But when the Piper boy started calling them Honor and Glory, he laughed and let the names stand. Glory wore trappings of Lannister crimson; Honor was barded in Kingsguard white. Josmyn Peckledon held the palfrey's reins as Ser Jaime mounted. The squire was skinny as a spear, with long arms and legs, greasy mouse-brown hair, and cheeks soft with peach fuzz. His cloak was Lannister crimson, but his surcoat showed the ten purple mullets of his own House arrayed upon a yellow field. \"My lord,\" the lad asked, \"will you be wanting your new hand?\"\n\n\"Wear it, Jaime,\" urged Ser Kennos of Kayce. \"Wave at the smallfolk and give them a tale to tell their children.\"\n\n\"I think not.\" Jaime would not show the crowds a golden lie. Let them seethe stump. Let them seethe cripple. \"But feel free to makeup for my lack, Ser Kennos. Wave with both hands, and waggle your feet if it please you.\" He gathered the reins in his left hand and wheeled his horse around. \"Payne,\" he called as the rest were forming up, \"you'll ride beside me.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist with the plot and keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 30"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Forty knights and as many esquires awaited him outside the Red Keep's stables. Half were westermen sworn to House Lannister, the others recent foes turned doubtful friends. Ser Dermot of the Rainwood would carry Tommen's standard, Red Ronnet Connington the white banner of the Kingsguard. A Paege, a Piper, and a Peckledon would share the honor of squiring for the Lord Commander. \"Keep friends at your back and foes where you can see them,\" Sumner Crakehall had once counseled him. Or had that been Father?\n\nHis palfrey was a blood bay, his destrier a magnificent grey stallion. It had been long years since Jaime had named any of his horses; he had seen too many die in battle, and that was harder when you named them. But when the Piper boy started calling them Honor and Glory, he laughed and let the names stand. Glory wore trappings of Lannister crimson; Honor was barded in Kingsguard white. Josmyn Peckledon held the palfrey's reins as Ser Jaime mounted. The squire was skinny as a spear, with long arms and legs, greasy mouse-brown hair, and cheeks soft with peach fuzz. His cloak was Lannister crimson, but his surcoat showed the ten purple mullets of his own House arrayed upon a yellow field. \"My lord,\" the lad asked, \"will you be wanting your new hand?\"\n\n\"Wear it, Jaime,\" urged Ser Kennos of Kayce. \"Wave at the smallfolk and give them a tale to tell their children.\"\n\n\"I think not.\" Jaime would not show the crowds a golden lie. Let them seethe stump. Let them seethe cripple. \"But feel free to makeup for my lack, Ser Kennos. Wave with both hands, and waggle your feet if it please you.\" He gathered the reins in his left hand and wheeled his horse around. \"Payne,\" he called as the rest were forming up, \"you'll ride beside me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Ilyn Payne made his way to Jaime's side, looking like the beggar at the ball. His ringmail was old and rusted, worn over a stained jack of boiled leather. Neither the man nor his mount showed any heraldry; his shield was so hacked and battered it was hard to say what color paint might once have covered it. With his grim face and deep-sunk hollow eyes, Ser Ilyn might have passed for death himself... as he had, for years.\n\nNo longer, though. Ser Ilyn had been half of Jaime's price, for swallowing his boy king's command like a good little Lord Commander. The other half had been Ser Addam Marbrand. \"I need them,\" he had told his sister, and Cersei had not put up a fight. Most like she's pleased to rid herself of them. Ser Addam was a boyhood friend of Jaime's, and the silent headsman had belonged to their father, if he belonged to anyone. Payne had been the captain of the Hand's guard when he had been heard boasting that it was Lord Tywin who ruled the Seven Kingdoms and told King Aerys what to do. Aerys Targaryen took his tongue for that.\n\n\"Open the gates,\" said Jaime, and Strongboar, in his booming voice, called out, \"OPEN THE GATES!\"\n\nWhen Mace Tyrell had marched out through the Mud Gate to the sound of drums and fiddles, thousands lined the streets to cheer him off. Little boys had joined the march, striding along beside the Tyrell soldiers with heads held high and legs pumping, whilst their sisters threw down kisses from the windows.\n\nNot so today. A few whores called out invitations as they passed, and a meat pie man cried his wares. In Cobbler's Square two threadbare sparrows were haranguing several hundred smallfolk, crying doom upon the heads of godless men and demon worshipers. The crowd parted for the column. Sparrows and cobblers alike looked on with dull eyes. \"They like the smell of roses but have no love for lions,\" Jaime observed. \"My sister would be wise to take note of that.\" Ser Ilyn made no reply. The perfect companion fora long ride. I will enjoy his conversation."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The greater part of his command awaited him beyond the city walls; Ser Addam Marbrand with his outriders, Ser Steffon Swyft and the baggage train, the Holy Hundred of old Ser Bonifer the Good, Sarsfield's mounted archers, Maester Gulian with four cages full of ravens, two hundred heavy horse under Ser Flement Brax. Not a great host, all in all; fewer than a thousand men in total. Numbers were the last thing needed at Riverrun. A Lannister army already invested the castle, and an even larger force of Freys; the last bird they'd received suggested that the besiegers were having difficulty keeping themselves fed. Brynden Tully had scoured the land clean before retiring behind his walls.\n\nNot that it required much scouring. From what Jaime had seen of the riverlands, scarce afield remained unburnt, a town unsacked, a maiden undespoiled. And now my sweet sister sends me to finish the work that Amory Lorch and Gregor Clegane began. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.\n\nThis near to King's Landing, the kingsroad was as safe as any road could be in such times, yet Jaime sent Marbrand and his outriders ahead to scout. \"Robb Stark took me unawares in the Whispering Wood,\" he said. \"That will never happen again.\"\n\n\"You have my word on it.\" Marbrand seemed visibly relieved to be ahorse again, wearing the smoke-grey cloak of his own House instead of the gold wool of the City Watch. \"If any foe should come within a dozen leagues, you will know of them beforehand.\"\n\nJaime had given stern commands that no man was to depart the column without his leave. Elsewise, he knew he would have bored young lordlings racing through the fields, scattering livestock and trampling down the crops. There were still cows and sheep to be seen near the city; apples on the trees and berries in the brush, stands of barleycorn and oats and winter wheat, wayns and oxcarts on the road. Farther afield, things would not be so rosy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riding at the front of the host with Ser Ilyn silent by his side, Jaime felt almost content. The sun was warm on his back and the wind riffled through his hairlike a woman's fingers. When Little Lew Piper came galloping up with a helm full of blackberries, Jaime ate a handful and told the boy to share the rest with his fellow squires and Ser Ilyn Payne.\n\nPayne seemed as comfortable in his silence as in his rusted ringmail and boiled leather. The clop of his gelding's hooves and the rattle of sword in scabbard whenever he shifted his seat were the only sounds he made. Though his pox-scarred face was grim and his eyes as cold as ice on a winter lake, Jaime sensed that he was glad he'd come. I gave the man a choice, he reminded himself. He could have refused me and remained King's Justice.\n\nSer Ilyn's appointment had been a wedding gift from Robert Baratheon to the father of his bride, a sinecure to compensate Payne for the tongue he'd lost in the service of House Lannister. He made a splendid headsman. He had never botched an execution, and seldom required as much as a second stroke. And there was something about his silence that inspired terror. Seldom had a King's Justice seemed so well fitted for his office.\n\nWhen Jaime decided to take him, he had sought out Ser Ilyn's chambers at the end of Traitor's Walk. The upper floor of the squat, half-round tower was divided into cells for prisoners who required some measure of comfort, captive knights or lordlings awaiting ransom or exchange. The entrance to the dungeons proper was at ground level, behind a door of hammered iron and a second of splintery grey wood. On the floors between were rooms set aside for the use of the Chief Gaoler, the Lord Confessor, and the King's Justice. The Justice was a headsman, but by tradition he also had charge of the dungeons and the men who kept them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And for that task, Ser Ilyn Payne was singularly ill suited. Ashe could neither read, nor write, nor speak, Ser Ilyn had left the running of the dungeons to his underlings, such as they were. The realm had not had a Lord Confessor since the second Daeron, however, and the last Chief Gaoler had been a cloth merchant who purchased the office from Littlefinger during Robert's reign. No doubt he'd had good profit from it fora few years, until he made the error of conspiring with some other rich fools to give the Iron Throne to Stannis. They called themselves'Antler Men,\" so Joff had nailed antlers to their heads before flinging them over the city walls. So it had been left to Rennifer Longwaters, the head undergaoler with the twisted back who claimed at tedious length to have a'drop of dragon\" in him, to unlock the dungeon doors for Jaime and conduct him up the narrow steps inside the walls to the place where Ilyn Payne had lived for fifteen years.\n\nThe chambers stank of rotted food, and the rushes were crawling with vermin. As Jaime entered, he almost trod upon a rat. Payne's greatsword rested on a trestle table, beside a whetstone and a greasy oilcloth. The steel was immaculate, the edge glimmering blue in the pale light, but elsewhere piles of soiled clothing were strewn about the floors, and the bits of mail and armor scattered here and there were red with rust. Jaime could not count the broken wine jars. The man cares for naught but killing, he thought, as Ser Ilyn emerged from a bedchamber that reeked of overflowing chamber pots. \"His Grace bids me win back his riverlands,\" Jaime told him. \"I would have you with me... if you can bear to give up all of this.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Silence was his answer, and along, unblinking stare. But just as he was about to turn and take his leave, Payne had given him a nod. And here he rides. Jaime glanced at his companion. Perhaps there is yet hope for the both of us.\n\nThat night they made camp beneath the hilltop castle of the Hayfords. As the sun went down, a hundred tents sprouted beneath the hill, along the banks of the stream that ran beside it. Jaime set the sentries himself. He did not expect trouble this close to the city, but his uncle Stafford had once thought himself safe on the Oxcross too. It was best to take no chances.\n\nWhen the invitation came down from the castle for him to sup with Lady Hayford's castellan, Jaime took Ser Ilyn with him, along with Ser Addam Marbrand, Ser Bonifer Hasty, Red Ronnet Connington, Strongboar, and a dozen other knights and lordlings. \"I suppose I ought to wear the hand,\" he said to Peck before making his ascent.\n\nThe lad fetched it straightaway. The hand was wrought of gold, very lifelike, with inlaid nails of mother-of-pearl, its fingers and thumb half closed so as to slip around a goblet's stem. I cannot fight, but I can drink, Jaime reflected as the lad was tightening the straps that bound it to his stump. \"Men shall name you Goldenhand from this day forth, my lord,\" the armorer had assured him the first time he'd fitted it onto Jaime's wrist. He was wrong. I shall be the Kingslayer till I die.\n\nThe golden hand was the occasion for much admiring comment over supper, at least until Jaime knocked over a goblet of wine. Then his temper got the best of him. \"If you admire the bloody thing so much, lop off your own sword hand and you can have it,\" he told Flement Brax. After that there was no more talk about his hand, and he managed to drink some wine in peace."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The lady of the castle was a Lannister by marriage, a plump toddler who had been wed to his cousin Tyrek before she was a year old. Lady Ermesande was duly trotted out for their approval, all trussed up in a little gown of cloth-of-gold, with the green fretty and green pale wavy of House Hayford rendered in tiny beads of jade. But soon enough the girl began to squall, whereupon she was promptly whisked off to bed by her wet nurse.\n\n\"Has there been no word of our Lord Tyrek?\" her castellan asked as a course of trout was served.\n\n\"None.\" Tyrek Lannister had vanished during the riots in King's Landing whilst Jaime himself was still captive at Riverrun. The boy would be fourteen by now, assuming he was still alive.\n\n\"I led a search myself, at Lord Tywin's command,\" offered Addam Marbrand as he boned his fish, \"but I found no more than Bywater had before me. The boy was last seen ahorse, when the press of the mob broke the line of gold cloaks. Afterward... well, his palfrey was found, but not the rider. Most like they pulled him down and slew him. But if that's so, where is his body? The mob let the other corpses lie, why not his?\"\n\n\"He would be of more value alive,\" suggested Strongboar. \"Any Lannister would bring a hefty ransom.\"\n\n\"No doubt,\" Marbrand agreed, \"yet no ransom demand was ever made. The boy is simply gone.\"\n\n\"The boy is dead.\" Jaime had drunk three cups of wine, and his golden hand seemed to be growing heavier and clumsier by the moment. A hook would serve me just as well. \"If they realized whom they'd killed, no doubt they threw him in the river for fear of my father's wrath. They know the taste of that in King's Landing. Lord Tywin always paid his debts.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Always,\" Strongboar agreed, and that was the end of that.\n\nYet afterward, alone in the tower room he had been offered for the night, Jaime found himself wondering. Tyrek had served King Robert as a squire, side by side with Lancel. Knowledge could be more valuable than gold, more deadly than a dagger. It was Varys he thought of then, smiling and smelling of lavender. The eunuch had agents and informers allover the city. It would have been a simple matter for him to arrange to have Tyrek snatched during the confusion... provided he knew beforehand that the mob was like to riot. And Varys knew all, or so he would have us believe. Yet he gave Cersei no warning of that riot. Nor did he ride down to the ships to see Myrcella off.\n\nHe opened the shutters. The night was growing cold, and a horned moon rode the sky. His hand shone dully in its light. No good for throttling eunuchs, but heavy enough to smash that slimy smile into a fine red ruin. He wanted to hit someone.\n\nJaime found Ser Ilyn honing his greatsword. \"It's time,\" he told the man. The headsman rose and followed, his cracked leather boots scraping against the steep stone steps as they went down the stair. A small courtyard opened off the armory. Jaime found two shields there, two halfhelms, and a pair of blunted tourney swords. He offered one to Payne and took the other in his left hand as he slid his right through the loops of the shield. His golden fingers were curved enough to hook, but could not grasp, so his hold upon the shield was loose. \"You were a knight once, ser,\" Jaime said. \"So was I. Let us see what we are now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ser Ilyn raised his blade in reply, and Jaime moved at once to the attack."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Payne was as rusty as his ringmail, and not so strong as Brienne, yet he met every cut with his own blade, or interposed his shield. They danced beneath the horned moon as the blunted swords sang their steely song. The silent knight was content to let Jaime lead the dance fora while, but finally he began to answer stroke for stroke. Once he shifted to the attack, he caught Jaime on the thigh, on the shoulder, on the forearm. Thrice he made his head ring with cuts to the helm. One slash ripped the shield off his right arm, and almost burst the straps that bound his golden hand to his stump. By the time they lowered their swords he was bruised and battered, but the wine had burned away and his head was clear. \"We will dance again,\" he promised Ser Ilyn. \"On the morrow, and the morrow. Everyday we'll dance, till I am as good with my left hand as ever I was with the right.\"\n\nSer Ilyn opened his mouth and made a clacking sound. A laugh, Jaime realized. Something twisted in his gut.\n\nCome morning, none of the others was so bold as to make mention of his bruises. Not one of them had heard the sound of swordplay in the night, it would seem. Yet when they climbed back down to camp, Little Lew Piper voiced the question the knights and lordlings dared not ask. Jaime grinned at him. \"They have lusty wenches in House Hayford. These are love bites, lad.\"\n\nAnother bright and blustery day was followed by a cloudy one, then three days of rain. Wind and water made no matter. The column kept its pace, north along the kingsroad, and each night Jaime found some private place to win himself more love bites. They fought inside a stable as a one-eyed mule looked on, and in the cellar of an inn amongst the casks of wine and ale. They fought in the blackened shell of a big stone barn, on a wooded island in a shallow stream, and in an open field as the rain pattered softly against their helms and shields."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jaime made excuses for his nightly forays, but he was not so foolish as to think that they were believed. Addam Marbrand knew what he was about, surely, and some of his other captains must have suspected. But no one spoke of it in his hearing... and since the only witness lacked a tongue, he need not fear anyone learning just how inept a swordsman the Kingslayer had become.\n\nSoon the signs of war could be seen on every hand. Weeds and thorns and brushy trees grew high as a horse's head infields where autumn wheat should be ripening, the kingsroad was bereft of travelers, and wolves ruled the weary world from dusk till dawn. Most of the animals were wary enough to keep their distance, but one of Marbrand's outriders had his horse runoff and killed when he dismounted fora piss. \"No beast would be so bold,\" declared Ser Bonifer the Good, of the stern sad face. \"These are demons in the skins of wolves, sent to chastise us for our sins.\"\n\n\"This must have been an uncommonly sinful horse,\" Jaime said, standing over what remained of the poor animal. He gave orders for the rest of the carcass to be cut apart and salted down; it might be they would need the meat.\n\nAt a place called Sow's Horn they found a tough old knight named Ser Roger Hogg squatting stubbornly in his towerhouse with six men-at-arms, four crossbowmen, and a score of peasants. Ser Roger was as big and bristly as his name and Ser Kennos suggested that he might be some lost Crakehall, since their sigil was a brindled boar. Strongboar seemed to believe it and spent an earnest hour questioning Ser Roger about his ancestors.\n\nJaime was more interested in what Hogg had to say of wolves. \"We had some trouble with a band of them white star wolves,\" the old knight told him. \"They come round sniffing after you, my lord, but we saw them off, and buried three down by the turnips. Before them there was a pack of bloody lions, begging your pardon. The one who led them had a manticore on his shield.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ser Amory Lorch,\" Jaime offered. \"My lord father commanded him to harry the riverlands.\"\n\n\"Which we're no part of,\" Ser Roger Hogg said stoutly. \"My fealty's owed to House Hayford, and Lady Ermesande bends her little knee at King's Landing, or will when she's old enough to walk. I told him that, but this Lorch wasn't much for listening. He slaughtered half my sheep and three good milk goats, and tried to roast me in my tower. My walls are solid stone and eight feet thick, though, so after his fire burned out he rode off bored. The wolves come later, the ones on four legs. They ate the sheep the manticore left me. I got a few good pelts in recompense, but fur don't fill your belly. What should we do, my lord?\"\n\n\"Plant,\" said Jaime, \"and pray for one last harvest.\" It was not a hopeful answer, but it was the only one he had.\n\nThe next day, the column crossed the stream that formed the boundary between the lands that did fealty to King's Landing and those beholden to Riverrun. Maester Gulian consulted a map and announced that these hills were held by the brothers Wode, a pair of landed knights sworn to Harrenhal... but their halls had been earth and timber, and only blackened beams remained of them.\n\nNo Wodes appeared, nor any of their smallfolk, though some outlaws had taken shelter in the root cellar beneath the second brother's keep. One of them wore the ruins of a crimson cloak, but Jaime hanged him with the rest. It felt good. This was justice. Make a habit of it, Lannister, and one day men might call you Goldenhand after all. Goldenhand the Just."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The world grew ever greyer as they drew near to Harrenhal. They rode beneath slate skies, beside waters that shone old and cold as a sheet of beaten steel. Jaime found himself wondering if Brienne might have passed this way before him. If she thought that Sansa Stark had made for Riverrun... Had they encountered other travelers, he might have stopped to ask if any of them had chance to see a pretty maid with auburn hair, or a big ugly one with a face that would curdle milk. But there was no one on the roads but wolves, and their howling held no answers.\n\nAcross the pewter waters of the lake the towers of Black Harren's folly appeared at last, five twisted fingers of black, misshapen stone grasping for the sky. Though Littlefinger had been named the Lord of Harrenhal, he seemed in no great haste to occupy his new seat, so it had fallen to Jaime Lannister to'sort out\" Harrenhal on his way to Riverrun.\n\nThat it needed sorting out he did not doubt. Gregor Clegane had wrested the immense, gloomy castle away from the Bloody Mummers before Cersei recalled him to King's Landing. No doubt the Mountain's men were still rattling around inside like so many dried peas in a suit of plate, but they were not ideally suited to restore the king's peace to the Trident. The only peace Ser Gregor's lot had ever given anyone was the peace of the grave.\n\nSer Addam's outriders had reported that the gates of Harrenhal were closed and barred. Jaime drew his men up before them and commanded Ser Kennos of Kayce to sound the Horn of Herrock, black and twisted and banded in old gold.\n\nWhen three blasts had echoed off the walls, they heard the groan of iron hinges and the gates swung slowly open. So thick were the walls of Black Harren's folly that Jaime passed beneath a dozen murder holes before emerging into sudden sunlight in the yard where he'd bid farewell to the Bloody Mummers, not so long ago. Weeds were sprouting from the hard-packed earth, and flies buzzed about the carcass of a horse."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A handful of Ser Gregor's men emerged from the towers to watch him dismount; hard-eyed, hard-mouthed men, the lot of them."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They would have to be, to ride beside the Mountain. About the best that could be said for Gregor's men was that they were not quite as vile and violent a bunch as the Brave Companions. \"Fuck me, Jaime Lannister,\" blurted one grey and grizzled man-at-arms. \"It's the bleeding Kingslayer, boys. Fuck me with a spear!\"\n\n\"Who might you be?\" Jaime asked.\n\n\"Ser used to call me Shitmouth, if it please m'lord.\" He spit in his hands and wiped his cheeks with them, as if that would somehow make him more presentable.\n\n\"Charming. Do you command here?\"\n\n\"Me? Shit, no. M'lord. Bugger me with a bloody spear.\" Shitmouth had enough crumbs in his beard to feed the garrison. Jaime had to laugh. The man took that for encouragement. \"Bugger me with a bloody spear,\" he said again, and started laughing too.\n\n\"You heard the man,\" Jaime said to Ilyn Payne. \"Find a nice long spear, and shove it up his arse.\"\n\nSer Ilyn did not have a spear, but Beardless Jon Bettley was glad to toss him one. Shitmouth's drunken laughter stopped abruptly. \"You keep that bloody thing away from me.\"\n\n\"Makeup your mind,\" said Jaime. \"Who has the command here? Did Ser Gregor name a castellan?\"\n\n\"Polliver,\" another man said, \"only the Hound killed him, m'lord. Him and the Tickler both, and that Sarsfield boy.\"\n\nThe Hound again. \"You know it was Sandor? You saw him?\"\n\n\"Not us, m'lord. That innkeep told us.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It happened at the crossroads inn, my lord.\" The speaker was a younger man with a mop of sandy hair. He wore the chain of coins that had once belonged to Vargo Hoat; coins from half a hundred distant cities, silver and gold, copper and bronze, square coins and round coins, triangles and rings and bits of bone. \"The innkeep swore the man had one side of his face all burned. His whores told the same tale. Sandor had some boy with him, a ragged peasant lad. They hacked Polly and the Tickler to bloody bits and rode off down the Trident, we were told.\"\n\n\"Did you send men after them?\"\n\nShitmouth frowned, as if the thought were painful. \"No, m'lord. Fuck us all, we never did.\"\n\n\"When a dog goes mad you cut his throat.\"\n\n\"Well,\" the man said, rubbing his mouth, \"I never much liked Polly, that shit, and the dog, he were Ser's brother, so...\"\n\n\"We're bad, m'lord,\" broke in the man who wore the coins, \"but you'd need to be mad to face the Hound.\"\n\nJaime looked him over. Bolder than the rest, and not as drunk as Shitmouth. \"You were afraid of him.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't say afraid, m'lord. I'd say we was leaving him for our betters. Someone like Ser. Or you.\"\n\nMe, when I had two hands. Jaime did not delude himself. Sandor would make short work of him now. \"You have a name?\"\n\n\"Rafford, if it pleases. Most call me Raff.\"\n\n\"Raff, gather the garrison together in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths. Your captives as well. I'll want to see them. Those whores from the crossroads too. Oh, and Hoat. I was distraught to hear that he had died. I'd like to look upon his head.\""
},
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"value": "When they brought it to him, he found that the Goat's lips had been sliced off, along with his ears and most of his nose. The crows had supped upon his eyes. It was still recognizably Hoat, however. Jaime would have known his beard anywhere; an absurd rope of hair two feet long, dangling from a pointed chin. Elsewise, only a few leathery strips of flesh still clung to the Qohorik's skull. \"Where is the rest of him?\" he asked.\n\nNo one wanted to tell him. Finally, Shitmouth lowered his eyes, and muttered, \"Rotted, ser. And et.\"\n\n\"One of the captives was always begging food,\" Rafford admitted, \"so Ser said to give him roast goat. The Qohorik didn't have much meat on him, though. Ser took his hands and feet first, then his arms and legs.\"\n\n\"The fat bugger got most, m'lord,\" Shitmouth offered, \"but Ser, he said to see that all the captives had a taste. And Hoat too, his own self. That whoreson'ud slobber when we fed him, and the grease'd rundown into that skinny beard o\" his.\"\n\nFather, Jaime thought, your dogs have both gone mad. He found himself remembering tales he had first heard as a child at Casterly Rock, of mad Lady Lothston who bathed in tubs of blood and presided over feasts of human flesh within these very walls.\n\nSomehow revenge had lost its savor. \"Take this and throw it in the lake.\" Jaime tossed Hoat's head to Peck, and turned to address the garrison. \"Until such time as Lord Petyr arrives to claim his seat, Ser Bonifer Hasty shall hold Harrenhal in the name of the crown. Those of you who wish may join him, if he'll have you. The rest will ride with me to Riverrun.\""
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"value": "The Mountain's men looked atone another. \"We're owed,\" said one. \"Ser promised us. Rich rewards, he said.\"\n\n\"His very words,\" Shitmouth agreed. \"Rich rewards, for them as rides with me.\" A dozen others began to yammer their assent.\n\nSer Bonifer raised a gloved hand. \"Any man who remains with me shall have a hide of land to work, a second hide when he takes a wife, a third at the birth of his first child.\"\n\n\"Land, ser?\" Shitmouth spat. \"Piss on that. If we wanted to grub in the bloody dirt, we could have bloody well stayed home, begging your pardon, ser. Rich rewards, Ser said. Meaning gold.\"\n\n\"If you have a grievance, go to King's Landing and take it up with my sweet sister.\" Jaime turned to Rafford. \"I'll see those captives now. Starting with Ser Wylis Manderly.\"\n\n\"He the fat one?\" asked Rafford.\n\n\"I devoutly hope so. And tell me no sad stories of how he died, or the lot of you are apt to do the same.\"\n\nAny hopes he might have nursed of finding Shagwell, Pyg, or Zollo languishing in the dungeons were sadly disappointed. The Brave Companions had abandoned Vargo Hoat to a man, it would seem. Of Lady Whent's people, only three remained-the cook who had opened the postern gate for Ser Gregor, a bent-back armorer called Ben Blackthumb, and a girl named Pia, who was not near as pretty as she had been when Jaime saw her last. Someone had broken her nose and knocked out half her teeth. The girl fell at Jaime's feet when she saw him, sobbing and clinging to his leg with hysterical strength till Strongboar pulled her off. \"No one will hurt you now,\" he told her, but that only made her sob the louder."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The other captives had been better treated. Ser Wylis Manderly was amongst them, along with several other highborn northmen taken prisoner by the Mountain That Rides in the fighting at the fords of the Trident. Useful hostages, all worth a goodly ransom. They were ragged, filthy, and shaggy to a man, and some had fresh bruises, cracked teeth, and missing fingers, but their wounds had been washed and bandaged, and none of them had gone hungry. Jaime wondered if they had any inkling what they'd been eating, and decided it was better not to inquire.\n\nNone had any defiance left; especially not Ser Wylis, a bushy-faced tub of suet with dull eyes and sallow, sagging jowls. When Jaime told him that he would be escorted to Maidenpool and there put on a ship for White Harbor, Ser Wylis collapsed into a puddle on the floor and sobbed longer and louder than Pia had. It took four men to lift him back onto his feet. Too much roast goat, Jaime reflected. Gods, but I hate this bloody castle. Harrenhal had seen more horror in its three hundred years than Casterly Rock had witnessed in three thousand.\n\nJaime commanded that fires be lit in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths and sent the cook hobbling back to the kitchens to prepare a hot meal for the men of his column. \"Anything but goat.\"\n\nHe took his own supper in Hunter's Hall with Ser Bonifer Hasty, a solemn stork of a man prone to salting his speech with appeals to the Seven. \"I want none of Ser Gregor's followers,\" he declared as he was cutting up a pear as withered as he was, so as to make certain that its nonexistent juice did not stain his pristine purple doublet, embroidered with the white bend cotised of his House. \"I will not have such sinners in my service.\""
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"value": "\"My septon used to say all men were sinners.\"\n\n\"He was not wrong,\" Ser Bonifer allowed, \"but some sins are blacker than others, and fouler in the nostrils of the Seven.\"\n\nAnd you have no more nose than my little brother, or my own sins would have you choking on that pear. \"Very well. I'll take Gregor's lot off your hands.\" He could always find a use for fighters. If nothing else, he could send them up the ladders first, should he need to storm the walls of Riverrun.\n\n\"Take the whore as well,\" Ser Bonifer urged. \"You know the one. The girl from the dungeons.\"\n\n\"Pia.\" The last time he had been here, Qyburn had sent the girl to his bed, thinking that would please him. But the Pia they had brought up from the dungeons was a different creature from the sweet, simple, giggly creature who'd crawled beneath his blankets. She had made the mistake of speaking when Ser Gregor wanted quiet, so the Mountain had smashed her teeth to splinters with a mailed fist and broken her pretty little nose as well. He would have done worse, no doubt, if Cersei had not called him down to King's Landing to face the Red Viper's spear. Jaime would not mourn him. \"Pia was born in this castle,\" he told Ser Bonifer. \"It is the only home she has ever known.\"\n\n\"She is a font of corruption,\" said Ser Bonifer. \"I won't have her near my men, flaunting her... parts.\"\n\n\"I expect her flaunting days are done,\" he said, \"but if you find her that objectionable, I'll take her.\" He could make her a washerwoman, he supposed. His squires did not mind raising his tent, grooming his horse, or cleaning his armor, but the task of caring for his clothes struck them as unmanly. \"Can you hold Harrenhal with just your Holy Hundred?\" Jaime asked. They should actually be called the Holy Eighty-Six, having lost fourteen men upon the Blackwater, but no doubt Ser Bonifer would fill up his ranks again as soon as he found some sufficiently pious recruits."
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"value": "\"I anticipate no difficulty. The Crone will light our way, and the Warrior will give strength to our arms.\"\n\nOr else the Stranger will turn up for the whole holy lot of you. Jaime could not be certain who had convinced his sister that Ser Bonifer should be named castellan of Harrenhal, but the appointment smelled of Orton Merryweather. Hasty had once served Merryweather's grandsire, he seemed to recall dimly. And the carrot-haired justiciar was just the sort of simpleminded fool to assume that someone called'the Good\" was the very potion the riverlands required to heal the wounds left by Roose Bolton, Vargo Hoat, and Gregor Clegane.\n\nBut he might not be wrong. Hasty hailed from the stormlands, so had neither friends nor foes along the Trident; no blood feuds, no debts to pay, no cronies to reward. He was sober, just, and dutiful, and his Holy Eighty-Six were as well disciplined as any soldiers in the Seven Kingdoms, and made a lovely sight as they wheeled and pranced their tall grey geldings. Littlefinger had once quipped that Ser Bonifer must have gelded the riders too, so spotless was their repute.\n\nAll the same, Jaime wondered about any soldiers who were better known for their lovely horses than for the foes they'd slain. They pray well, I suppose, but can they fight? They had not disgraced themselves on the Blackwater, so far as he knew, but they had not distinguished themselves either. Ser Bonifer himself had been a promising knight in his youth, but something had happened to him, a defeat or a disgrace or a near brush with death, and afterward he had decided that jousting was an empty vanity and put away his lance for good and all."
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"value": "Harrenhal must beheld, though, and Baelor Butthole here is the man that Cersei chose to hold it. \"This castle has an ill repute,\" he warned him, \"and one that's well deserved. It's said that Harren and his sons still walk the halls by night, afire. Those who look upon them burst into flame.\"\n\n\"I fear no shade, ser. It is written in The Seven-Pointed Star that spirits, wights, and revenants cannot harm a pious man, so long as he is armored in his faith.\"\n\n\"Then armor yourself in faith, by all means, but wear a suit of mail and plate as well. Every man who holds this castle seems to come to a bad end. The Mountain, the Goat, even my father...\"\n\n\"If you will forgive my saying so, they were not godly men, as we are. The Warrior defends us, and help is always near, if some dread foe should threaten. Maester Gulian will be remaining with his ravens, Lord Lancel is nearby at Darry with his garrison, and Lord Randyll holds Maidenpool. Together we three shall hunt down and destroy whatever outlaws prowl these parts. Once that is done, the Seven will guide the goodfolk back to their villages to plow and plant and build anew.\"\n\nThe ones the Goat didn't kill, at least. Jaime hooked his golden fingers round the stem of his wine goblet. \"If any of Hoat's Brave Companions fall into your hands, send word tome at once.\" The Stranger might have made off with the Goat before Jaime could get around to him, but fat Zollo was still out there, with Shagwell, Rorge, Faithful Urswyck, and the rest."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So you can torture them and kill them?\"\n\n\"I suppose you would forgive them, in my place?\"\n\n\"If they made sincere repentance for their sins... yes, I would embrace them all as brothers and pray with them before I sent them to the block. Sins maybe forgiven. Crimes require punishment.\" Hasty folded his hands before him like a steeple, in away that reminded Jaime uncomfortably of his father. \"If it is Sandor Clegane that we encounter, what would you have me do?\"\n\nPray hard, Jaime thought, and run. \"Send him to join his beloved brother and be glad the gods made seven hells. One would never be enough to hold both of the Cleganes.\" He pushed himself awkwardly to his feet. \"Beric Dondarrion is a different matter. Should you capture him, hold him for my return. I'll want to march him back to King's Landing with a rope about his neck, and have Ser Ilyn take his head off where half the realm can see.\"\n\n\"And this Myrish priest who runs with him? It is said he spreads his false faith everywhere.\"\n\n\"Kill him, kiss him, or pray with him, as you please.\"\n\n\"I have no wish to kiss the man, my lord.\"\n\n\"No doubt he'd say the same of you.\" Jaime's smile turned into a yawn. \"My pardons. I shall take my leave of you, if you have no objections.\"\n\n\"None, my lord,\" said Hasty. No doubt he wished to pray.\n\nJaime wished to fight. He took the steps two at a time, out to where the night air was cold and crisp. In the torchlit yard Strongboar and Ser Flement Brax were having at each other whilst a ring of men-at-arms cheered them on. Ser Lyle will have the best of that one, he knew. I need to find Ser Ilyn. His fingers had the itch again. His footsteps took him away from the noise and the light. He passed beneath the covered bridge and through the Flowstone Yard before he realized where he was headed."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ashe neared the bear pit, he saw the glow of a lantern, its pale wintry light washing over the tiers of steep stone seats. Someone has come before me, it would seem. The pit would be a fine place to dance; perhaps Ser Ilyn had anticipated him.\n\nBut the knight standing over the pit was bigger; a husky, bearded man in a red-and-white surcoat adorned with griffins. Connington. What's he doing here? Below, the carcass of the bear still sprawled upon the sands, though only bones and ragged fur remained, half-buried. Jaime felt a pang of pity for the beast. At least he died in battle. \"Ser Ronnet,\" he called, \"have you lost your way? It is a large castle, I know.\"\n\nRed Ronnet raised his lantern. \"I wished to see where the bear danced with the maiden not-so-fair.\" His beard shone in the light as if it were afire. Jaime could smell wine on his breath. \"Is it true the wench fought naked?\"\n\n\"Naked? No.\" He wondered how that wrinkle had been added to the story. \"The Mummers put her in a pink silk gown and shoved a tourney sword into her hand. The Goat wanted her death to be amuthing. Elsewise...\"\n\n\"... the sight of Brienne naked might have made the bear flee in terror.\" Connington laughed.\n\nJaime did not. \"You speak as if you know the lady.\"\n\n\"I was betrothed to her.\"\n\nThat took him by surprise. Brienne had never mentioned a betrothal. \"Her father made a match for her...\"\n\n\"Thrice,\" said Connington. \"I was the second. My father's notion. I had heard the wench was ugly, and I told him so, but he said all women were the same once you blew the candle out.\""
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"value": "\"Your father.\" Jaime eyed Red Ronnet's surcoat, where two griffins faced each other on afield of red and white. Dancing griffins. \"Our late Hand's... brother, was he?\"\n\n\"Cousin. Lord Jon had no brothers.\"\n\n\"No.\" It all came back to him. Jon Connington had been Prince Rhaegar's friend. When Merryweather failed so dismally to contain Robert's Rebellion and Prince Rhaegar could not be found, Aerys had turned to the next best thing, and raised Connington to the Handship. But the Mad King was always chopping off his Hands. He had chopped Lord Jon after the Battle of the Bells, stripping him of honors, lands, and wealth, and packing him off across the sea to die in exile, where he soon drank himself to death. The cousin, though-Red Ronnet's father-had joined the rebellion and been rewarded with Griffin's Roost after the Trident. He only got the castle, though; Robert kept the gold, and bestowed the greater part of the Connington lands on more fervent supporters.\n\nSer Ronnet was a landed knight, no more. For any such, the Maid of Tarth would have been a sweet plum indeed. \"How is it that you did not wed?\" Jaime asked him.\n\n\"Why, I went to Tarth and saw her. I had six years on her, yet the wench could look me in the eye. She was a sow in silk, though most sows have bigger teats. When she tried to talk she almost choked on her own tongue. I gave her arose and told her it was all that she would ever have from me.\" Connington glanced into the pit. \"The bear was less hairy than that freak, I'll-\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jaime's golden hand cracked him across the mouth so hard the other knight went stumbling down the steps. His lantern fell and smashed, and the oil spread out, burning. \"You are speaking of a highborn lady, ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.\"\n\nConnington edged away from the spreading flames on his hands and knees. \"Brienne. If it please my lord.\" He spat a glob of blood at Jaime's foot. \"Brienne the Beauty.\""
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"value": "CERSEI\n\nIt was a slow climb to the top of Visenya's Hill. As the horses labored upward, the queen leaned back against a plump red cushion. From outside came the voice of Ser Osmund Kettleblack. \"Make way. Clear the street. Make way for Her Grace the queen.\"\n\n\"Margaery does keep a lively court,\" Lady Merryweather was saying. \"We have jugglers, mummers, poets, puppets...\"\n\n\"Singers?\" prompted Cersei.\n\n\"Many and more, Your Grace. Hamish the Harper plays for her once a fortnight, and sometimes Alaric of Eysen will entertain us of an evening, but the Blue Bard is her favorite.\"\n\nCersei recalled the bard from Tommen's wedding. Young, and fair to look upon. Could there be something there? \"There are other men as well, I hear. Knights and courtiers. Admirers. Tell me true, my lady. Do you think Margaery is still a maiden?\"\n\n\"She says she is, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"So she does. What do you say?\"\n\nTaena's black eyes sparkled with mischief. \"When shewed Lord Renly at Highgarden, I helped disrobe him for the bedding. His lordship was a well-made man, and lusty. I saw the proof when we tumbled him into the wedding bed where his bride awaited him as naked as her name day, blushing prettily beneath the coverlets. Ser Loras had carried her up the steps himself. Margaery may say that the marriage was never consummated, that Lord Renly had drunk too much wine at the wedding feast, but I promise you, the bit between his legs was anything but weary when last I saw it.\""
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"value": "\"Did you chance to seethe marriage bed the morning after?\" Cersei asked. \"Did she bleed?\"\n\n\"No sheet was shown, Your Grace.\"\n\nA pity. Still, the absence of a bloody sheet meant little, by itself. Common peasant girls bled like pigs upon their wedding nights, she had heard, but that was less true of highborn maids like Margaery Tyrell. A lord's daughter was more like to give her maidenhead to a horse than a husband, it was said, and Margaery had been riding since she was old enough to walk. \"I understand the little queen has many admirers amongst our household knights. The Redwyne twins, Ser Tallad... who else, pray tell?\"\n\nLady Merryweather gave a shrug. \"Ser Lambert, the fool who hides a good eye behind a patch. Bayard Norcross. Courtenay Greenhill. The brothers Woodwright, sometimes Portifer and often Lucantine. Oh, and Grand Maester Pycelle is a frequent visitor.\"\n\n\"Pycelle? Truly?\" Had that doddering old worm forsaken the lion for the rose? If so, he will regret it. \"Who else?\"\n\n\"The Summer Islander in his feathered cloak. How could I have forgotten him, with his skin as black as ink? Others come to pay court to her cousins. Elinor is promised to the Ambrose boy, but loves to flirt, and Megga has anew suitor every fortnight. Once she kissed a potboy in the kitchen. I have heard talk of her marrying Lady Bulwer's brother, but if Megga were to choose for herself, she would sooner have Mark Mullendore, I am certain.\"\n\nCersei laughed. \"The butterfly knight who lost his arm on the Blackwater? What good is half a man?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Megga thinks him sweet. She has asked Lady Margaery to help her find a monkey for him.\"\n\n\"A monkey.\" The queen did not know what to say to that. Sparrows and monkeys. Truly, the realm is going mad. \"What of our brave Ser Loras? How often does he call upon his sister?\"\n\n\"More than any of the others.\" When Taena frowned, a tiny crease appeared between her dark eyes. \"Every morn and every night he visits, unless duty interferes. Her brother is devoted to her, they share everything with... oh...\" Fora moment, the Myrish woman looked almost shocked. Then a smile spread across her face. \"I have had a most wicked thought, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Best keep it to yourself. The hill is thick with sparrows, and we all know how sparrows abhor wickedness.\"\n\n\"I have heard they abhor soap and water too, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Perhaps too much prayer robs a man of his sense of smell. I shall be sure to ask His High Holiness.\"\n\nThe draperies swayed back and forth in awash of crimson silk. \"Orton told me that the High Septon has no name,\" Lady Taena said. \"Can that be true? In Myr we all have names.\"\n\n\"Oh, he had a name once. They all do.\" The queen waved a hand dismissively. \"Even septons born of noble blood go only by their given names once they have taken their vows. When one of them is elevated to High Septon, he puts aside that name as well. The Faith will tell you he no longer has any need of a man's name, for he has become the avatar of the gods.\"\n\n\"How do you distinguish one High Septon from another?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"With difficulty. One has to say, \"the fat one,\" or \"the one before the fat one,\" or \"the old one who died in his sleep.\" You can always winkle out their birth names if you like, but they take umbrage if you use them. It reminds them that they were born ordinary men, and they do not like that.\"\n\n\"My lord husband tells me this new one was born with filth beneath his fingernails.\"\n\n\"So I suspect. As a rule the Most Devout elevate one of their own, but there have been exceptions.\" Grand Maester Pycelle had informed her of the history, at tedious length. \"During the reign of King Baelor the Blessed a simple stonemason was chosen as High Septon. He worked stone so beautifully that Baelor decided he was the Smith reborn in mortal flesh. The man could neither read nor write, nor recall the words of the simplest of prayers.\" Some still claimed that Baelor's Hand had the man poisoned to spare the realm embarrassment. \"After that one died, an eight-year-old boy was elevated, once more at King Baelor's urging. The boy worked miracles, His Grace declared, though even his little healing hands could not save Baelor during his final fast.\"\n\nLady Merryweather gave a laugh. \"Eight years old? Perhaps my son could be High Septon. He is almost seven.\"\n\n\"Does he pray a lot?\" the queen asked.\n\n\"He prefers to play with swords.\"\n\n\"Areal boy, then. Can he name all seven gods?\"\n\n\"I think so.\"\n\n\"I shall have to take him under consideration.\" Cersei did not doubt that there were any number of boys who would do more honor to the crystal crown than the wretch on whom the Most Devout had chosen to bestow it. This is what comes of letting fools and cowards rule themselves. Next time, I will choose their master for them. And the next time might not belong incoming, if the new High Septon continued to annoy her. Baelor's Hand had little to teach Cersei Lannister where such matters were concerned."
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"value": "\"Clear the way!\" Ser Osmund Kettleblack was shouting. \"Make way for the Queen's Grace!\"\n\nThe litter began to slow, which could only mean that they were near the top of the hill. \"You should bring this son of yours to court,\" Cersei told Lady Merryweather. \"Six is not too young. Tommen needs other boys about him. Why not your son?\" Joffrey had never had a close friend of his own age, that she recalled. The poorboy was always alone. I had Jaime when I was a child... and Melara, until she fell into the well. Joff had been fond of the Hound, to be sure, but that was not friendship. He was looking for the father he never found in Robert. A little foster brother might be just what Tommen needs to wean him away from Margaery and her hens. In time they might grow as close as Robert and his boyhood friend Ned Stark. A fool, but a loyal fool. Tommen will have need of loyal friends to watch his back.\n\n\"Your Grace is kind, but Russell has never known any home but Longtable. I fear he would be lost in this great city.\"\n\n\"In the beginning,\" the queen allowed, \"but he will soon outgrow that, as I did. When my father sent for me to court I wept and Jaime raged, until my aunt sat me down in the Stone Garden and told me there was no one in King's Landing that I need ever fear.\"You area lioness, \"she said,\"and it is for all the lesser beasts to fear you. ' Your son will find his courage too. Surely you would prefer to have him close at hand, where you could see him everyday? He is your only child, is he not?\"\n\n\"For the present. My lord husband has asked the gods to bless us with another son, in case...\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know.\" She thought of Joffrey, clawing at his neck. In his last moments he had looked to her in desperate appeal, and a sudden memory had stopped her heart; a drop of red blood hissing in a candle flame, a croaking voice that spoke of crowns and shrouds, of death at the hands of the valonqar.\n\nOutside the litter, Ser Osmund was shouting something, and someone was shouting back. The litter jerked to a halt. \"Are you all dead?\" roared Kettleblack. \"Get out of the bloody way!\"\n\nThe queen pulled back a corner of the curtain and beckoned to Ser Meryn Trant. \"What seems to be the trouble?\"\n\n\"The sparrows, Your Grace.\" Ser Meryn wore white scale armor beneath his cloak. His helm and shield were slung from his saddle. \"Camping in the street. We'll make them move.\"\n\n\"Do that, but gently. I do not care to be caught up in another riot.\" Cersei let the curtain fall. \"This is absurd.\"\n\n\"It is, Your Grace,\" Lady Merryweather agreed. \"The High Septon should have come to you. And these wretched sparrows...\"\n\n\"He feeds them, coddles them, blesses them. Yet will not bless the king.\" The blessing was an empty ritual, she knew, but rituals and ceremonies had power in the eyes of the ignorant. Aegon the Conqueror himself had dated the start of his realm from the day the High Septon anointed him in Oldtown. \"This wretched priest will obey, or learn how weak and human he still is.\"\n\n\"Orton says it is the gold he really wants. That he means to withhold his blessing until the crown resumes its payments.\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Faith will have its gold as soon as we have peace.\" Septon Torbert and Septon Raynard had been most understanding of her plight... unlike the wretched Braavosi, who had hounded poor Lord Gyles so mercilessly that he had taken to his bed, coughing up blood. We had to have those ships. She could not rely upon the Arbor for her navy; the Redwynes were too close to the Tyrells. She needed her own strength at sea.\n\nThe dromonds rising on the river would give her that. Her flagship would dip twice as many oars as King Robert's Hammer. Aurane had asked her leave to name her Lord Tywin, which Cersei had been pleased to grant. She looked forward to hearing men speak of her father as a'she.\" Another of the ships would be named Sweet Cersei, and would bear a gilded figurehead carved in her likeness, clad in mail and lion helm, with spear in hand. Brave Joffrey, Lady Joanna, and Lioness would follow her to sea, along with Queen Margaery, Golden Rose, Lord Renly, Lady Olenna, and Princess Myrcella. The queen had made the mistake of telling Tommen he might name the last five. He had actually chosen Moon Boy for one. Only when Lord Aurane suggested that men might not want to serve on a ship named fora fool had the boy reluctantly agreed to honor his sister instead.\n\n\"If this ragged septon thinks to make me buy Tommen's blessing, he will soon learn better,\" she told Taena. The queen did not intend to truckle to a pack of priests.\n\nThe litter halted yet again, so suddenly that Cersei jerked. \"Oh, this is infuriating.\" She leaned out once more, and saw that they had reached the top of Visenya's Hill. Ahead loomed the Great Sept of Baelor, with its magnificent dome and seven shining towers, but between her and the marble steps lay a sullen sea of humanity, brown and ragged and unwashed. Sparrows, she thought, sniffing, though no sparrows had ever smelled so rank."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cersei was appalled. Qyburn had brought her reports of their numbers, but hearing about them was one thing and seeing them another. Hundreds were encamped upon the plaza, hundreds more in the gardens. Their cookfires filled the air with smoke and stinks. Roughspun tents and miserable hovels made of mud and scrap wood besmirched the pristine white marble. They were even huddled on the steps, beneath the Great Sept's towering doors.\n\nSer Osmund came trotting back to her. Beside him rode Ser Osfryd, mounted on a stallion as golden as his cloak. Osfryd was the middle Kettleblack, quieter than his siblings, more apt to scowl than smile. And crueler as well, if the tales are true. Perhaps I should have sent him to the Wall.\n\nGrand Maester Pycelle had wanted an older man'more seasoned in the ways of war\" to command the gold cloaks, and several of her other councillors had agreed with him. \"Ser Osfryd is seasoned quite sufficiently,\" she had told them, but even that did not shut them up. They yap at me like a pack of small, annoying dogs. Her patience with Pycelle had all but run its course. He had even had the temerity to object to her sending to Dorne fora master-at-arms, on the grounds that it might offend the Tyrells. \"Why do you think I'm doing it?\" she had asked him scornfully.\n\n\"Beg pardon, Your Grace,\" said Ser Osmund. \"My brother's summoning more gold cloaks. We'll clear a path, never fear.\"\n\n\"I do not have the time. I will continue on afoot.\"\n\n\"Please, Your Grace.\" Taena caught her arm. \"They frighten me. There are hundreds of them, and so dirty.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cersei kissed her cheek. \"The lion does not fear the sparrow... but it is good of you to care. I know you love me well, my lady. Ser Osmund, kindly help me down.\"\n\nIf I had known I was going to have to walk, I would have dressed for it. She wore a white gown slashed with cloth-of-gold, lacy but demure. It had been several years since the last time she had donned it, and the queen found it uncomfortably tight about the middle. \"Ser Osmund, Ser Meryn, you will accompany me. Ser Osfryd, see that my litter comes to no harm.\" Some of the sparrows looked gaunt and hollow-eyed enough to eat her horses.\n\nAs she made her way through the ragged throng, past their cookfires, wagons, and crude shelters, the queen found herself remembering another crowd that had once gathered on this plaza. The day shewed Robert Baratheon, thousands had turned out to cheer for them. All the women wore their best, and half the men had children on their shoulders. When she had emerged from inside the sept, hand in hand with the young king, the crowd sent up a roar so loud it could be heard in Lannisport. \"They like you well, my lady,\" Robert whispered in her ear. \"See, every face is smiling.\" For that one short moment she had been happy in her marriage... until she chanced to glance at Jaime. No, she remembered thinking, not every face, my lord.\n\nNo one was smiling now. The looks the sparrows gave her were dull, sullen, hostile. They made way but reluctantly. If they were truly sparrows, a shout would send them flying. A hundred gold cloaks with staves and swords and maces could clear this rabble quick enough. That was what Lord Tywin would have done. He would have ridden over them instead of walking through."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When she saw what they had done to Baelor the Beloved, the queen had cause to rue her soft heart."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The great marble statue that had smiled serenely over the plaza fora hundred years was waist-deep in a heap of bones and skulls. Some of the skulls had scraps of flesh still clinging to them. A crow sat atop one such, enjoying a dry, leathery feast. Flies were everywhere. \"What is the meaning of this?\" Cersei demanded of the crowd. \"Do you mean to bury Blessed Baelor in a mountain of carrion?\"\n\nA one-legged man stepped forward, leaning on a wooden crutch. \"Your Grace, these are the bones of holy men and women, murdered for their faith. Septons, septas, brothers brown and dun and green, sisters white and blue and grey. Some were hanged, some disemboweled. Septs have been despoiled, maidens and mothers raped by godless men and demon worshipers. Even silent sisters have been molested. The Mother Above cries out in her anguish. We have brought their bones here from allover the realm, to bear witness to the agony of the Holy Faith.\"\n\nCersei could feel the weight of eyes upon her. \"The king shall know of these atrocities,\" she answered solemnly. \"Tommen will share your outrage. This is the work of Stannis and his red witch, and the savage northmen who worship trees and wolves.\" She raised her voice. \"Good people, your dead shall be avenged!\"\n\nA few cheered, but only a few. \"We ask no vengeance for our dead,\" said the one-legged man, \"only protection for the living. For the septs and holy places.\"\n\n\"The Iron Throne must defend the Faith,\" growled a hulking lout with a seven-pointed star painted on his brow. \"A king who does not protect his people is no king at all.\" Mutters of assent went up from those around him. One man had the temerity to grasp Ser Meryn by the wrist, and say, \"It is time for all anointed knights to forsake their worldly masters and defend our Holy Faith. Stand with us, ser, if you love the Seven.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Unhand me,\" said Ser Meryn, wrenching free.\n\n\"I hear you,\" Cersei said. \"My son is young, but he loves the Seven well. You shall have his protection, and mine own.\"\n\nThe man with the star upon his brow was not appeased. \"The Warrior will defend us,\" he said, \"not this fat boy king.\"\n\nMeryn Trant reached for his sword, but Cersei stopped him before he could unsheathe it. She had only two knights amidst a sea of sparrows. She saw staves and scythes, cudgels and clubs, several axes. \"I will have no bloodshed in this holy place, ser.\" Why are all men such children? Cut him down, and the rest will tear us limb from limb. \"We are all the Mother's children. Come, His High Holiness awaits us.\" But as she made her way through the press to the steps of the sept, a gaggle of armed men stepped out to block the doors. They wore mail and boiled leather, with here and there a bit of dinted plate. Some had spears and some had longswords. More favored axes, and had sewn red stars upon their bleached white surcoats. Two had the insolence to cross their spears and bar her way.\n\n\"Is this how you receive your queen?\" she demanded of them. \"Pray, where are Raynard and Torbert?\" It was not like those two to miss a chance to fawn on her. Torbert always made a show of getting down on his knees to wash her feet.\n\n\"I do not know the men you speak of,\" said one of the men with a red star on his surcoat, \"but if they are of the Faith, no doubt the Seven had need of their service.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Septon Raynard and Septon Torbert are of the Most Devout,\" Cersei said, \"and will be furious to learn that you obstructed me. Do you mean to deny me entrance to Baelor's holy sept?\"\n\n\"Your Grace,\" said a greybeard with a stooped shoulder. \"You are welcome here, but your men must leave their swordbelts. No weapons are allowed within, by command of the High Septon.\"\n\n\"Knights of the Kingsguard do not set aside their swords, not even in the presence of the king.\"\n\n\"In the king's house, the king's word must rule,\" replied the aged knight, \"but this is the house of the gods.\"\n\nColor rose to her cheeks. One word to Meryn Trant, and the stoop-backed greybeard would be meeting his gods sooner than he might have liked. Not here, though. Not now. \"Wait for me,\" she told the Kingsguard curtly. Alone, she climbed the steps. The spearmen uncrossed their spears. Two other men put their weight against the doors, and with a great groan they swung apart.\n\nIn the Hall of Lamps, Cersei found a score of septons on their knees, but not in prayer. They had pails of soap and water, and were scrubbing at the floor. Their roughspun robes and sandals led Cersei to take them for sparrows, until one raised his head. His face was red as a beet, and there were broken blisters on his hands, bleeding. \"Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Septon Raynard?\" The queen could scarce believe what she was seeing. \"What are you doing on your knees?\"\n\n\"He is cleaning the floor.\" The speaker was shorter than the queen by several inches and as thin as a broom handle. \"Work is a form of prayer, most pleasing to the Smith.\" He stood, scrub brush in hand. \"Your Grace. We have been expecting you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man's beard was grey and brown and closely trimmed, his hair tied up in a hard knot behind his head. Though his robes were clean, they were frayed and patched as well. He had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he scrubbed, but below the knees the cloth was soaked and sodden. His face was sharply pointed, with deep-set eyes as brown as mud. His feet are bare, she saw with dismay. They were hideous as well, hard and horny things, thick with callus. \"You are His High Holiness?\"\n\n\"We are.\"\n\nFather, give me strength. The queen knew that she should kneel, but the floor was wet with soap and dirty water and she did not wish to ruin her gown. She glanced over at the old men on their knees. \"I do not see my friend Septon Torbert.\"\n\n\"Septon Torbert has been confined to a penitent's cell on bread and water. It is sinful for any man to be so plump when half the realm is starving.\"\n\nCersei had suffered quite enough for one day. She let him see her anger. \"Is this how you greet me? With a scrub brush in your hand, dripping water? Do you know who I am?\"\n\n\"Your Grace is the Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms,\" the man said, \"but in The Seven-Pointed Star it is written that as men bow to their lords, and lords to their kings, so kings and queens must bow before the Seven Who Are One.\"\n\nIs he telling me to kneel? If so, he did not know her very well. \"By rights you should have met me on the steps in your finest robes, with the crystal crown upon your head.\"\n\n\"We have no crown, Your Grace.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's narrative assistant, advance the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 31"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
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"value": "The man's beard was grey and brown and closely trimmed, his hair tied up in a hard knot behind his head. Though his robes were clean, they were frayed and patched as well. He had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he scrubbed, but below the knees the cloth was soaked and sodden. His face was sharply pointed, with deep-set eyes as brown as mud. His feet are bare, she saw with dismay. They were hideous as well, hard and horny things, thick with callus. \"You are His High Holiness?\"\n\n\"We are.\"\n\nFather, give me strength. The queen knew that she should kneel, but the floor was wet with soap and dirty water and she did not wish to ruin her gown. She glanced over at the old men on their knees. \"I do not see my friend Septon Torbert.\"\n\n\"Septon Torbert has been confined to a penitent's cell on bread and water. It is sinful for any man to be so plump when half the realm is starving.\"\n\nCersei had suffered quite enough for one day. She let him see her anger. \"Is this how you greet me? With a scrub brush in your hand, dripping water? Do you know who I am?\"\n\n\"Your Grace is the Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms,\" the man said, \"but in The Seven-Pointed Star it is written that as men bow to their lords, and lords to their kings, so kings and queens must bow before the Seven Who Are One.\"\n\nIs he telling me to kneel? If so, he did not know her very well. \"By rights you should have met me on the steps in your finest robes, with the crystal crown upon your head.\"\n\n\"We have no crown, Your Grace.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her frown deepened. \"My lord father gave your predecessor a crown of rare beauty, wrought in crystal and spun gold.\"\n\n\"And for that gift we honor him in our prayers,\" the High Septon said, \"but the poor need food in their bellies more than we need gold and crystal on our head. That crown has been sold. So have the others in our vaults, and all our rings, and our robes of cloth-of-gold and cloth-of-silver. Wool will keep a man as warm. That is why the Seven gave us sheep.\"\n\nHe is utterly mad. The Most Devout must have been mad as well, to elevate this creature... mad, or terrified of the beggars at their doors. Qyburn's whisperers claimed that Septon Luceon had been nine votes from elevation when those doors had given way, and the sparrows came pouring into the Great Sept with their leader on their shoulders and their axes in their hands.\n\nShe fixed the small man with an icy stare. \"Is there someplace where we may speak more privily, Your Holiness?\"\n\nThe High Septon surrendered his scrub brush to one of the Most Devout. \"If Your Grace will follow us?\"\n\nHe led her through the inner doors, into the sept proper. Their footsteps echoed off the marble floor. Dust motes swam in the beams of colored light slanting down through the leaded glass of the great dome. Incense sweetened the air, and beside the seven altars candles shone like stars. A thousand twinkled for the Mother and near as many for the Maid, but you could count the Stranger's candles on two hands and still have fingers left.\n\nEven here the sparrows had invaded. A dozen scruffy hedge knights were kneeling before the Warrior, beseeching him to bless the swords they had piled at his feet. At the Mother's altar, a septon was leading a hundred sparrows in prayer, their voices as distant as waves upon the shore. The High Septon led Cersei to where the Crone raised her lantern. When he knelt before the altar, she had no choice but to kneel beside him. Mercifully, this High Septon was not as long-winded as the fat one had been. I should be grateful for that much, I suppose."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His High Holiness made no move to rise when his prayer was done. It would seem they must confer upon their knees. A small man's ploy, she thought, amused. \"High Holiness,\" she said, \"these sparrows are frightening the city. I want them gone.\"\n\n\"Where should they go, Your Grace?\"\n\nThere are seven hells, anyone of them will serve. \"Back where they came from, I would imagine.\"\n\n\"They came from everywhere. As the sparrow is the humblest and most common of the birds, they are the humblest and most common of men.\"\n\nThey are common, we agree on that much. \"Have you seen what they have done to Blessed Baelor's statue? They befoul the plaza with their pigs and goats and night soil.\"\n\n\"Night soil can be washed away more easily than blood, Your Grace. If the plaza was befouled, it was befouled by the execution that was done here.\"\n\nHe dares throw Ned Stark in my face? \"We all regret that. Joffrey was young, and not as wise as he might have been. Lord Stark should have been beheaded elsewhere, out of respect for Blessed Baelor... but the man was a traitor, let us not forget.\"\n\n\"King Baelor forgave those who conspired against him.\"\n\nKing Baelor imprisoned his own sisters, whose only crime was being beautiful. The first time Cersei heard that tale, she had gone to Tyrion's nursery and pinched the little monster till he cried. I should have pinched his nose shut and stuffed my sock into his mouth. She forced herself to smile. \"King Tommen will forgive the sparrows too, once they have returned to their homes.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Most have lost their homes. Suffering is everywhere... and grief, and death. Before coming to King's Landing, I tended to half a hundred little villages too small to have a septon of their own. I walked from each one to the next, performing marriages, absolving sinners of their sins, naming newborn children. Those villages are no more, Your Grace. Weeds and thorns grow where gardens once flourished, and bones litter the roadsides.\"\n\n\"War is a dreadful thing. These atrocities are the work of the northmen, and of Lord Stannis and his demon-worshipers.\"\n\n\"Some of my sparrows speak of bands of lions who despoiled them... and of the Hound, who was your own sworn man. At Saltpans he slew an aged septon and despoiled a girl of twelve, an innocent child promised to the Faith. He wore his armor as he raped her and her tender flesh was torn and crushed by his iron mail. When he was done he gave her to his men, who cutoff her nose and nipples.\"\n\n\"His Grace cannot beheld responsible for the crimes of every man whoever served House Lannister. Sandor Clegane is a traitor and a brute. Why do you think I dismissed him from our service? He fights for the outlaw Beric Dondarrion now, not for King Tommen.\"\n\n\"As you say. Yet it must be asked-where were the king's knights when these things were being done? Did not Jaehaerys the Conciliator once swear upon the Iron Throne itself that the crown would always protect and defend the Faith?\"\n\nCersei had no idea what Jaehaerys the Conciliator might have sworn. \"He did,\" she agreed, \"and the High Septon blessed him and anointed him asking. It is traditional for every new High Septon to give the king his blessing... and yet you have refused to bless King Tommen.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your Grace is mistaken. We have not refused.\"\n\n\"You have not come.\"\n\n\"The houris not yet ripe.\"\n\nAre you a priest or a greengrocer? \"And what might I do to make it... riper?\" If he dares mention gold, I will deal with this one as I did the last and find a pious eight-year-old to wear the crystal crown.\n\n\"The realm is full of kings. For the Faith to exalt one above the rest we must be certain. Three hundred years ago, when Aegon the Dragon landed beneath this very hill, the High Septon locked himself within the Starry Sept of Oldtown and prayed for seven days and seven nights, taking no nourishment but bread and water. When he emerged he announced that the Faith would not oppose Aegon and his sisters, for the Crone had lifted up her lamp to show him what lay ahead. If Oldtown took up arms against the Dragon, Oldtown would burn, and the Hightower and the Citadel and the Starry Sept would be cast down and destroyed. Lord Hightower was a godly man. When he heard the prophecy, he kept his strength at home and opened the city gates to Aegon when he came. And His High Holiness anointed the Conqueror with the seven oils. I must do as he did, three hundred years ago. I must pray, and fast.\"\n\n\"For seven days and seven nights?\"\n\n\"For as long as need be.\"\n\nCersei itched to slap his solemn, pious face. I could help you fast, she thought. I could shut you up in some tower and see that no one brings you food until the gods have spoken. \"These false kings espouse false gods,\" she reminded him. \"Only King Tommen defends the Holy Faith.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Yet everywhere septs are burned and looted."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even silent sisters have been raped, crying their anguish to the sky. Your Grace has seen the bones and skulls of our holy dead?\"\n\n\"I have,\" she had to say. \"Give Tommen your blessing, and he shall put an end to these outrages.\"\n\n\"And how shall he do that, Your Grace? Will he send a knight to walk the roads with every begging brother? Will he give us men to guard our septas against the wolves and lions?\"\n\nI will pretend you did not mention lions. \"The realm is at war. His Grace has need of every man.\" Cersei did not intend to squander Tommen's strength playing wet nurse to sparrows, or guarding the wrinkled cunts of a thousand sour septas. Half of them are probably praying fora good raping. \"Your sparrows have clubs and axes. Let them defend themselves.\"\n\n\"King Maegor's laws prohibit that, as Your Grace must know. It was by his decree that the Faith laid down its swords.\"\n\n\"Tommen is king now, not Maegor.\" What did she care what Maegor the Cruel had decreed three hundred years ago? Instead of taking the swords out of the hands of the faithful, he should have used them for his own ends. She pointed to where the Warrior stood above his altar of red marble. \"What is that he holds?\"\n\n\"A sword.\"\n\n\"Has he forgotten how to use it?\"\n\n\"Maegor's laws-\"\n\n\"-could be undone.\" She let that hang there, waiting for the High Sparrow to rise to the bait.\n\nHe did not disappoint her. \"The Faith Militant reborn... that would be the answer to three hundred years of prayer, Your Grace. The Warrior would lift his shining sword again and cleanse this sinful realm of all its evil. If His Grace were to allow me to restore the ancient blessed orders of the Sword and Star, every godly man in the Seven Kingdoms would know him to be our true and rightful lord.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was sweet to hear, but Cersei took care not to seem too eager. \"Your High Holiness spoke of forgiveness earlier. In these troubled times, King Tommen would be most grateful if you could see your way to forgiving the crown's debt. It seems tome we owe the Faith some nine hundred thousand dragons.\"\n\n\"Nine hundred thousand six hundred and seventy-four dragons. Gold that could feed the hungry and rebuild a thousand septs.\"\n\n\"Is it gold you want?\" the queen asked. \"Or do you want these dusty laws of Maegor's set aside?\"\n\nThe High Septon pondered that a moment. \"As you wish. This debt shall be forgiven, and King Tommen will have his blessing. The Warrior's Sons shall escort me to him, shining in the glory of their Faith, whilst my sparrows go forth to defend the meek and humble of the land, reborn as Poor Fellows as of old.\"\n\nThe queen got to her feet and smoothed her skirts. \"I shall have the papers drawn up, and His Grace will sign them and affix them with the royal seal.\" If there was one part of kingship that Tommen loved, it was playing with his seal.\n\n\"Seven save His Grace. Long may he reign.\" The High Septon made a steeple of his hands and raised his eyes to heaven. \"Let the wicked tremble!\"\n\nDo you hear that, Lord Stannis? Cersei could not help but smile. Even her lord father could have done no better. At a stroke, she had rid King's Landing of the plague of sparrows, secured Tommen's blessing, and lessened the crown's debt by close to a million dragons. Her heart was soaring as she allowed the High Septon to escort her back to the Hall of Lamps."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lady Merryweather shared the queen's delight, though she had never heard of the Warrior's Sons or the Poor Fellows."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They date from before Aegon's Conquest,\" Cersei explained to her. \"The Warrior's Sons were an order of knights who gave up their lands and gold and swore their swords to His High Holiness. The Poor Fellows... they were humbler, though far more numerous. Begging brothers of a sort, though they carried axes instead of bowls. They wandered the roads, escorting travelers from sept to sept and town to town. Their badge was the seven-pointed star, red on white, so the smallfolk named them Stars. The Warrior's Sons wore rainbow cloaks and inlaid silver armor over hair shirts, and bore star-shaped crystals in the pommels of their longswords. They were the Swords. Holy men, ascetics, fanatics, sorcerers, dragonslayers, demonhunters... there were many tales about them. But all agree that they were implacable in their hatred for all enemies of the Holy Faith.\"\n\nLady Merryweather understood at once. \"Enemies such as Lord Stannis and his red sorceress, perhaps?\"\n\n\"Why, yes, as it happens,\" said Cersei, giggling like a girl. \"Shall we broach a flagon of hippocras and drink to the fervor of the Warrior's Sons on our way home?\"\n\n\"To the fervor of the Warrior's Sons and the brilliance of the Queen Regent. To Cersei, the First of Her Name!\"\n\nThe hippocras was as sweet and savory as Cersei's triumph, and the queen's litter seemed almost to float back across the city. But at the base of Aegon's High Hill, they encountered Margaery Tyrell and her cousins returning from a ride. She dogs me everywhere I go, Cersei thought with annoyance when she laid eyes on the little queen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Behind Margaery came along tail of courtiers, guards, and servants, many of them laden with baskets of fresh flowers. Each of her cousins had an admirer in thrall; the gangly squire Alyn Ambrose rode with Elinor, to whom he was betrothed, Ser Tallad with shy Alla, one-armed Mark Mullendore with Megga, plump and laughing. The Redwyne twins were escorting two of Margaery's other ladies, Meredyth Crane and Janna Fossoway. The women all wore flowers in their hair. Jalabhar Xho had attached himself to the party too, as had Ser Lambert Turnberry with his eye patch, and the handsome singer known as the Blue Bard.\n\nAnd of course a knight of the Kingsguard must accompany the little queen, and of course it is the Knight of Flowers. In white scale armor chased with gold, Ser Loras glittered. Though he no longer presumed to train Tommen at arms, the king still spent far too much time in his company. Every time the boy returned from an afternoon with his little wife, he had some new tale to tell about something that Ser Loras had said or done.\n\nMargaery hailed them when the two columns met and fell in beside the queen's litter. Her cheeks were flushed, her brown ringlets tumbling loosely about her shoulders, stirred by every puff of wind. \"We have been picking autumn flowers in the kingswood,\" she told them.\n\nI know where you were, the queen thought. Her informers were very good about keeping her apprised of Margaery's movements. Such a restless girl, our little queen. She seldom let more than three days pass without going off fora ride. Some days they would ride along the Rosby road to hunt for shells and eat beside the sea. Other times she would take her entourage across the river for an afternoon of hawking. The little queen was fond of going out on boats as well, sailing up and down the Blackwater Rush to no particular purpose. When she was feeling pious she would leave the castle to pray at Baelor's Sept. She gave her custom to a dozen different seamstresses, was well-known amongst the city's goldsmiths, and had even been known to visit the fish market by the Mud Gate fora look at the day's catch. Wherever she went, the smallfolk fawned on her, and Lady Margaery did all she could to fan their ardor. She was forever giving alms to beggars, buying hot pies off bakers' carts, and reining up to speak to common tradesmen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Had it been up to her, she would have had Tommen doing all these things as well. She was forever inviting him to accompany her and her hens on their adventures, and the boy was forever pleading with his mother for leave to go along. The queen had given her consent a few times, if only to allow Ser Osney to spend a few more hours in Margaery's company. For all the good it has done. Osney has proved a grievous disappointment. \"Do you remember the day your sister sailed for Dorne?\" Cersei asked her son. \"Do you recall the mob howling on our way back to the castle? The stones, the curses?\"\n\nBut the king was deaf to sense, thanks to his little queen. \"If we mingle with the commons, they will love us better.\"\n\n\"The mob loved the fat High Septon so well they tore him limb from limb, and him a holy man,\" she reminded him. All it did was make him sullen with her. Just as Margaery wants, I wager. Everyday in every way she tries to steal him from me. Joffrey would have seen through her schemer's smile and let her know her place, but Tommen was more gullible. She knew Joff was too strong for her, Cersei thought, remembering the gold coin Qyburn had found. For House Tyrell to hope to rule, he had to be removed. It came back to her that Margaery and her hideous grandmother had once plotted to marry Sansa Stark to the little queen's crippled brother Willas. Lord Tywin had forestalled that by stealing a march on them and wedding Sansa to Tyrion, but the link had been there. They are all in it together, she realized with a start. The Tyrells bribed the gaolers to free Tyrion, and whisked him down the roseroad to join his vile bride. By now the both of them are safe in Highgarden, hidden away behind a wall of roses."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You should have come along with us, Your Grace,\" the little schemer prattled on as they climbed the slope of Aegon's High Hill. \"We could have had such a lovely time together. The trees are gowned in gold and red and orange, and there are flowers everywhere. Chestnuts too. We roasted some on our way home.\"\n\n\"I have no time for riding through the woods and picking flowers,\" Cersei said. \"I have a kingdom to rule.\"\n\n\"Only one, Your Grace? Who rules the other six?\" Margaery laughed a merry little laugh. \"You will forgive me my jest, I hope. I know what a burden you bear. You should let me share the load. There must be somethings I could do to help you. It would put to rest all this talk that you and I are rivals for the king.\"\n\n\"Is that what they say?\" Cersei smiled. \"How foolish. I have never looked upon you as a rival, not even fora moment.\"\n\n\"I am so pleased to hear that.\" The girl did not seem to realize that she had been cut. \"You and Tommen must come with us the next time. I know His Grace would love it. The Blue Bard played for us, and Ser Tallad showed us how to fight with a staff the way the smallfolk do. The woods are so beautiful in autumn.\"\n\n\"My late husband loved the forest too.\" In the early years of their marriage, Robert was forever imploring her to hunt with him, but Cersei had always begged off. His hunting trips allowed her time with Jaime. Golden days and silver nights. It was a dangerous dance that they had danced, to be sure. Eyes and ears were everywhere within the Red Keep, and one could never be certain when Robert would return. Somehow the peril had only served to make their times together that much more thrilling. \"Still, beauty can sometimes mask deadly danger,\" she warned the little queen. \"Robert lost his life in the woods.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Margaery smiled at Ser Loras; a sweet sisterly smile, full of fondness. \"Your Grace is kind to fear for me, but my brother keeps me well protected.\"\n\nGo and hunt, Cersei had urged Robert, half a hundred times. My brother keeps me well protected. She recalled what Taena had told her earlier, and a laugh came bursting from her lips.\n\n\"Your Grace laughs so prettily.\" Lady Margaery gave her a quizzical smile. \"Might we share the jest?\"\n\n\"You will,\" the queen said. \"I promise you, you will.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "THE REAVER\n\nThe drums were pounding out a battle beat as the Iron Victory swept forward, her ram cutting through the choppy green waters. The smaller ship ahead was turning, oars slapping at the sea. Roses streamed upon her banners; fore and aft a white rose upon a red escutcheon, atop her mast a golden one on afield as green as grass. The Iron Victory raked her side so hard that half the boarding party lost their feet. Oars snapped and splintered, sweet music to the captain's ears.\n\nHe vaulted over the gunwale, landing on the deck below with his golden cloak billowing behind him. The white roses drew back, as men always did at the sight of Victarion Greyjoy armed and armored, his face hidden behind his kraken helm. They were clutching swords and spears and axes, but nine of every ten wore no armor, and the tenth had only a shirt of sewn scales. These are no ironmen, Victarion thought. They still fear drowning.\n\n\"Get him!\" one man shouted. \"He's alone!\"\n\n\"COME!\" he roared back. \"Come kill me, if you can.\"\n\nFrom all sides the rosey warriors converged, with grey steel in their hands and terror behind their eyes. Their fear was so ripe Victarion could taste it. Left and right he laid about, hewing off the first man's arm at the elbow, cleaving through the shoulder of the second. The third buried his own axehead in the soft pine of Victarion's shield. He slammed it into the fool's face, knocked him off his feet, and slew him when he tried to rise again. Ashe was struggling to free his axe from the dead man's rib cage, a spear jabbed him between the shoulder blades. It felt as though someone had slapped him on the back. Victarion spun and slammed his axe down onto the spearman's head, feeling the impact in his arm as the steel went crunching through helm and hair and skull. The man swayed for half a heartbeat, till the iron captain wrenched the steel free and sent his corpse staggering loose-limbed across the deck, looking more drunk than dead."
},
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"value": "By then his ironborn had followed him down onto the deck of the broken longship. He heard Wulfe One-Ear let out a howl as he went to work, glimpsed Ragnor Pyke in his rusted mail, saw Nute the Barber send a throwing axe spinning through the air to catch a man in the chest. Victarion slew another man, and another. He would have killed a third, but Ragnor cut him down first. \"Well struck,\" Victarion bellowed at him.\n\nWhen he turned to find the next victim for his axe, he spied the other captain across the deck. His white surcoat was spotted with blood and gore, but Victarion could make out the arms upon his breast, the white rose within its red escutcheon. The man bore the same device upon his shield, on a white field with a red embattled border. \"You!\" the iron captain called across the carnage. \"You of the rose! Be you the lord of Southshield?\"\n\nThe other raised his visor to show a beardless face. \"His son and heir. Ser Talbert Serry. And who are you, kraken?\"\n\n\"Your death.\" Victarion bulled toward him.\n\nSerry leapt to meet him. His longsword was good castle-forged steel, and the young knight made it sing. His first cut was low, and Victarion deflected it off his axe. His second caught the iron captain on the helm before he got his shield up. Victarion answered with a sidearm blow of his axe. Serry's shield got in the way. Wooden splinters flew, and the white rose split lengthwise with a sweet sharp crack. The young knight's longsword hammered at his thigh, once, twice, thrice, screaming against the steel. This boy is quick, the iron captain realized. He smashed his shield in Serry's face and sent him staggering back against the gunwale. Victarion raised his axe and put all his weight behind his cut, to open the boy from neck to groin, but Serry spun away. The axehead crashed through the rail, sending splinters flying, and lodged there when he tried to pull it free. The deck moved under his feet, and he stumbled to one knee."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Talbert castaway his broken shield and slashed down with his longsword. Victarion's own shield had twisted half around when he stumbled. He caught Serry's blade in an iron fist. Lobstered steel crunched, and a stab of pain made him grunt, yet Victarion held on. \"I am quick as well, boy,\" he said as he ripped the sword from the knight's hand and flung it into the sea.\n\nSer Talbert's eyes went wide. \"My sword...\"\n\nVictarion caught the lad about the throat with a bloody fist. \"Go and get it,\" he said, forcing him backwards over the side into the bloodstained waters.\n\nThat won him a respite to pull his axe loose. The white roses were falling back before the iron tide. Some tried to flee belowdecks, as others cried for quarter. Victarion could feel warm blood trickling down his fingers beneath the mail and leather and lobstered plate, but that was nothing. Around the mast a thick knot of foemen fought on, standing shoulder to shoulder in a ring. These few are men, at least. They would sooner die than yield. Victarion would grant some of them that wish. He beat his axe against his shield and charged them.\n\nThe Drowned God had not shaped Victarion Greyjoy to fight with words at kingsmoots, nor struggle against furtive sneaking foes in endless bogs. This was why he had been put on earth; to stand steel-clad with an axe red and dripping in his hand, dealing death with every blow.\n\nThey hacked at him from front and back, but their swords might have been willow switches for all the harm they did him. No blade could cut through Victarion Greyjoy's heavy plate, nor did he give his foes the time to find the weak points at the joints, where only mail and leather warded him. Let three men assail him, or four, or five; it made no matter. He slew them one at a time, trusting in his steel to protect him from the others. As each foe fell he turned his wroth upon the next."
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"value": "The last man to face him must have been a smith; he had shoulders like a bull, and one much more muscular than the other. His armor was a studded brigandine and a cap of boiled leather. The only blow he landed completed the ruin of Victarion's shield, but the cut the captain dealt in answer split his head in two. Would that I could deal with the Crow's Eye as simply. When he jerked his axehead free again, the smith's skull seemed to burst. Bone and blood and brain went everywhere, and the corpse fell forward, up against his legs. Too late to plead for quarter now, Victarion thought as he untangled himself from the dead man.\n\nBy then the deck was slick beneath his feet, and the dead and the dying lay in heaps on every side. He threw his shield away and sucked in air. \"Lord Captain,\" he heard the Barber say beside him, \"the day is ours.\"\n\nAll around the sea was full of ships. Some were burning, some were sinking, some had been smashed to splinters. Between the hulls the water was thick as stew, full of corpses, broken oars, and men clinging to the wreckage. In the distance, half a dozen of southron longships were racing back toward the Mander. Let them go, Victarion thought, let them tell the tale. Once a man had turned his tail and run from battle he ceased to be a man.\n\nHis eyes were stinging from the sweat that had rundown into them during the fight. Two of his oarsmen helped undo his kraken helm so he might lift it off. Victarion mopped at his brow. \"That knight,\" he grumbled, \"the knight of the white rose. Did any of you pull him out?\" A lord's son would be worth a goodly ransom; from his father, if Lord Serry had survived the day. From his liege at Highgarden, if not."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "None of his men had seen what became of the knight after he went over the side, however. Most like the man had drowned. \"May he feast as he fought, in the Drowned God's watery halls.\" Though the men of the Shield Islands called themselves sailors, they crossed the seas in dread and went lightly clad in battle for fear of drowning. Young Serry had been different. A brave man, thought Victarion. Almost ironborn.\n\nHe gave the captured ship to Ragnor Pyke, named a dozen men to crew her, and clambered backup onto his own Iron Victory. \"Strip the captives of arms and armor and have their wounds bound up,\" he told Nute the Barber. \"Throw the dying in the sea. If any beg for mercy, cut their throats first.\" He had only contempt for such; better to drown on seawater than on blood. \"I want a count of the ships we won and all the knights and lordlings we took captive. I want their banners too.\" One day he would hang them in his hall, so when he grew old and feeble he could remember all the foes he had slain when he was young and strong.\n\n\"It will be done.\" Nute grinned. \"It is a great victory.\"\n\nAye, he thought, a great victory for the Crow's Eye and his wizards. The other captains would shout his brother's name anew when the tidings reached Oakenshield. Euron had seduced them with his glib tongue and smiling eye and bound them to his cause with the plunder of half a hundred distant lands; gold and silver, ornate armor, curved swords with gilded pommels, daggers of Valyrian steel, striped tiger pelts and the skins of spotted cats, jade manticores and ancient Valyrian sphinxes, chests of nutmeg, cloves, and saffron, ivory tusks and the horns of unicorns, green and orange and yellow feathers from the Summer Sea, bolts of fine silk and shimmering samite... and yet all that was little and less, compared to this. Now he has given them conquest, and they are his for good and all, the captain thought. The taste was bitter on his tongue. This was my victory, not his. Where was he? Back on Oakenshield, lazing in a castle. He stole my wife and he stole my throne, and now he steals my glory."
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"value": "Obedience came naturally to Victarion Greyjoy; he had been born to it. Growing to manhood in the shadow of his brothers, he had followed Balon dutifully in everything he did. Later, when Balon's sons were born, he had grown to accept that one day he would kneel to them as well, when one of them took his father's place upon the Seastone Chair. But the Drowned God had summoned Balon and his sons down to his watery halls, and Victarion could not call Euron'king\" without tasting bile in his throat.\n\nThe wind was freshening, and his thirst was raging. After a battle he always wanted wine. He gave the deck to Nute and went below. In his cramped cabin aft, he found the dusky woman wet and ready; perhaps the battle had warmed her blood as well. He took her twice, in quick succession. When they were done there was blood smeared across her breasts and thighs and belly, but it was his blood, from the gash in his palm. The dusky woman washed it out for him with boiled vinegar.\n\n\"The plan was good, I grant him,\" Victarion said as she knelt beside him. \"The Mander is open to us now, as it was of old.\" It was a lazy river, wide and slow and treacherous with snags and sandbars. Most seagoing vessels dared not sail beyond Highgarden, but longships with their shallow draughts could navigate as far upstream as Bitterbridge. In ancient days, the ironborn had boldly sailed the river road and plundered all along the Mander and its vassal streams... until the kings of the green hand had armed the fisherfolk on the four small islands off the Mander's mouth and named them his shields."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Two thousand years had passed, but in the watchtowers along their craggy shores, greybeards still kept the ancient vigil."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At the first glimpse of longships the old men would light their beacon fires, and the call would leap from hill to hill and island to island. Fear! Foes! Raiders! Raiders! When the fisherfolk saw the fires burning on the high places they would put their nets and plows aside and take up their swords and axes. Their lords would rush from their castles, attended by their knights and men-at-arms. Warhorns would echo across the waters, from Greenshield and Greyshield, Oakenshield and Southshield, and their longships would come sliding out from moss-covered stone pens along the shores, oars flashing as they swarmed across the straits to seal the Mander and hound and harry the raiders upriver to their doom.\n\nEuron had sent Torwold Browntooth and the Red Oarsman up the Mander with a dozen swift longships, so the lords of the Shield Islands would spill forth in pursuit. By the time his main fleet arrived, only a handful of fighting men remained to defend the isles themselves. The ironborn had come in on the evening tide, so the glare of the setting sun would keep them hidden from the greybeards in the watchtowers until it was too late. The wind was at their backs, as it had been all the way down from Old Wyk. It was whispered about the fleet that Euron's wizards had much and more to do with that, that the Crow's Eye appeased the Storm God with blood sacrifice. How else would he have dared sail so far to the west, instead of following the shoreline as was the custom?\n\nThe ironborn ran their longships up onto the stony shingles and spilled out into the purple dusk with steel glimmering in their hands. By then the fires were burning in the high places, but few remained to take up arms. Greyshield, Greenshield, and Southshield fell before the sun came up. Oakenshield lasted half a day longer. And when the men of the Four Shields broke off their pursuit of Torwold and the Red Oarsman and turned downriver, they found the Iron Fleet waiting at the Mander's mouth."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"All fell out as Euron said it would,\" Victarion told the dusky woman as she bound up his hand with linen. \"His wizards must have seen it.\" He had three aboard the Silence, Quellon Humble had confided in a whisper. Queer men and terrible, they were, but the Crow's Eye had made them slaves. \"He still needs me to fight his battles, though,\" Victarion insisted. \"Wizards maybe well and good, but blood and steel win wars.\" The vinegar made his wound hurt worse than ever. He shoved the woman away and closed his fist, glowering. \"Bring me wine.\"\n\nHe drank in the darkness, brooding on his brother. If I do not strike the blow with mine own hand, am I still a kinslayer? Victarion feared no man, but the Drowned God's curse gave him pause. If another strikes him down at my command, will his blood still stain my hands? Aeron Damphair would know the answer, but the priest was somewhere back on the Iron Islands, still hoping to raise the ironborn against their new-crowned king. Nute the Barber can shave a man with a thrown axe from twenty yards away. And none of Euron's mongrels could stand against Wulfe One-Ear or Andrik the Unsmiling. Any of them could do it. But what a man can do and what a man will do are two different things, he knew.\n\n\"Euron's blasphemies will bring down the Drowned God's wroth upon us all,\" Aeron had prophesied, back on Old Wyk. \"We must stop him, brother. We are still of Balon's blood, are we not?\"\n\n\"So is he,\" Victarion had said. \"I like it no more than you, but Euron is the king. Your kingsmoot raised him up, and you put the driftwood crown upon his head yourself!\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I placed the crown upon his head,\" said the priest, seaweed dripping in his hair, \"and gladly will I wrest it off again and crown you in his stead. Only you are strong enough to fight him.\"\n\n\"The Drowned God raised him up,\" Victarion complained. \"Let the Drowned God cast him down.\"\n\nAeron gave him a baleful look, the look that had been known to sour wells and make women barren. \"It was not the god who spoke. Euron is known to keep wizards and foul sorcerers on that red ship of his. They sent some spell among us, so we could not hear the sea. The captains and the kings were drunk with all this talk of dragons.\"\n\n\"Drunk, and fearful of that horn. You heard the sound it made. It makes no matter. Euron is our king.\"\n\n\"Not mine,\" the priest declared. \"The Drowned God helps bold men, not those who cower below their decks when the storm is rising. If you will not bestir yourself to remove the Crow's Eye from the Seastone Chair, I must take the task upon myself.\"\n\n\"How? You have no ships, no swords.\"\n\n\"I have my voice,\" the priest replied, \"and the god is with me. Mine is the strength of the sea, a strength the Crow's Eye cannot hope to withstand. The waves may break upon the mountain, yet still they come, wave upon wave, and in the end only pebbles remain where once the mountain stood. And soon even the pebbles are swept away, to be ground beneath the sea for all eternity.\"\n\n\"Pebbles?\" Victarion grumbled. \"You are mad if you think to bring the Crow's Eye down with talk of waves and pebbles.\""
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"value": "\"The ironborn shall be waves,\" the Damphair said. \"Not the great and lordly, but the simple folk, tillers of the soil and fishers of the sea. The captains and the kings raised Euron up, but the common folk shall tear him down. I shall go to Great Wyk, to Harlaw, to Orkmont, to Pyke itself. In every town and village shall my words be heard. No godless man may sit the Seastone Chair!\" He shook his shaggy head and stalked back out into the night. When the sun came up the next day, Aeron Greyjoy had vanished from Old Wyk. Even his drowned men knew not where. They said the Crow's Eye only laughed when he was told.\n\nBut though the priest was gone, his dire warnings lingered. Victarion found himself remembering Baelor Blacktyde's words as well. \"Balon was mad, Aeron is madder, and Euron is maddest of them all.\" The young lord had tried to sail home after the kingsmoot, refusing to accept Euron as his liege. But the Iron Fleet had closed the bay, the habit of obedience was rooted deep in Victarion Greyjoy, and Euron wore the driftwood crown. Nightflyer was seized, Lord Blacktyde delivered to the king in chains. Euron's mutes and mongrels had cut him into seven parts, to feed the seven green land gods he worshiped.\n\nAs a reward for his leal service, the new-crowned king had given Victarion the dusky woman, taken off some slaver bound for Lys. \"I want none of your leavings,\" he had told his brother scornfully, but when the Crow's Eye said that the woman would be killed unless he took her, he had weakened. Her tongue had been torn out, but elsewise she was undamaged, and beautiful besides, with skin as brown as oiled teak. Yet sometimes when he looked at her, he found himself remembering the first woman his brother had given him, to make a man of him."
},
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"value": "Victarion wanted to use the dusky woman once again, but found himself unable. \"Fetch me another skin of wine,\" he told her, \"then get out.\" When she returned with a skin of sour red, the captain took it upon deck, where he could breathe the clean sea air. He drank half the skin and poured the rest into the sea for all the men who'd died.\n\nThe Iron Victory lingered for hours off the mouth of the Mander. As the greater part of the Iron Fleet got underway for Oakenshield, Victarion kept Grief, Lord Dagon, Iron Wind, and Maiden's Bane about him as a rearguard. They pulled survivors from the sea, and watched Hardhand sink slowly, dragged under by the wreck that she had rammed. By the time she vanished beneath the waters Victarion had the count he'd asked for. He had lost six ships, and captured eight-and-thirty. \"It will serve,\" he told Nute. \"To the oars. We return to Lord Hewett's Town.\"\n\nHis oarsmen bent their backs toward Oakenshield, and the iron captain went belowdecks once again. \"I could kill him,\" he told the dusky woman. \"Though it is a great sin to kill your king, and a worse one to kill your brother.\" He frowned. \"Asha should have given me her voice.\" How could she have ever hoped to win the captains and the kings, her with her pinecones and her turnips? Balon's blood is in her, but she is still a woman. She had run after the kingsmoot. The night the driftwood crown was placed on Euron's head, she and her crew had melted away. Some small part of Victarion was glad she had. If the girl keeps her wits about her, she will wed some northern lord and live with him in his castle, far from the sea and Euron Crow's Eye."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lord Hewett's Town, Lord Captain,\" a crewman called.\n\nVictarion rose. The wine had dulled the throbbing in his hand. Perhaps he would have Hewett's maester look at it, if the man had not been killed. He returned to deck as they came around a headland. The way Lord Hewett's castle sat above the harbor reminded him of Lordsport, though this town was twice as big. A score of longships prowled the waters beyond the port, the golden kraken writhing on their sails. Hundreds more were beached along the shingles and drawn up to the piers that lined the harbor. At a stone quay stood three great cogs and a dozen smaller ones, taking on plunder and provisions. Victarion gave orders for the Iron Victory to drop anchor. \"Have a boat made ready.\"\n\nThe town seemed strangely still as they approached. Most of the shops and houses had been looted, as their smashed doors and broken shutters testified, but only the sept had been put to the torch. The streets were strewn with corpses, each with a small flock of carrion crows in attendance. A gang of sullen survivors moved amongst them, chasing off the blackbirds and tossing the dead into the back of a wagon for burial. The notion filled Victarion with disgust. No true son of the sea would want to rot beneath the ground. How would he ever find the Drowned God's watery halls, to drink and feast for all eternity?\n\nThe Silence was amongst the ships they passed. Victarion's gaze was drawn to the iron figurehead at her prow, the mouthless maiden with the windblown hair and outstretched arm. Her mother-of-pearl eyes seemed to follow him. She had a mouth like any other woman, till the Crow's Eye sewed it shut."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "As they neared the shore, he noticed a line of women and children herded up onto the deck of one of the great cogs."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some had their hands bound behind their backs, and all wore loops of hempen rope about their necks. \"Who are they?\" he asked the men who helped tie up their boat.\n\n\"Widows and orphans. They're to be sold as slaves.\"\n\n\"Sold?\" There were no slaves in the Iron Islands, only thralls. A thrall was bound to service, but he was not chattel. His children were born free, so long as they were given to the Drowned God. And thralls were never bought nor sold for gold. A man paid the iron price for thralls, or else had none. \"They should be thralls, or salt wives,\" Victarion complained.\n\n\"It's by the king's decree,\" the man said.\n\n\"The strong have always taken from the weak,\" said Nute the Barber. \"Thralls or slaves, it makes no matter. Their men could not defend them, so now they are ours, to do with as we will.\"\n\nIt is not the Old Way, he might have said, but there was no time. His victory had preceded him, and men were gathering round to offer congratulations. Victarion let them fawn, until one began to praise Euron's daring. \"It is daring to sail out of sight of land, so no word of our coming could reach these islands before us,\" he growled, \"but crossing half the world to hunt for dragons, that is something else.\" He did not wait fora reply, but shouldered through the press and on up to the keep.\n\nLord Hewett's castle was small but strong, with thick walls and studded oaken gates that evoked his House's ancient arms, an oak escutcheon studded with iron upon afield of undy blue and white. But it was the kraken of House Greyjoy that flew atop his green-roofed towers now, and they found the great gates burned and broken. On the ramparts walked ironborn with spears and axes, and some of Euron's mongrels too."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the yard Victarion came on Gorold Goodbrother and old Drumm, speaking quietly with Rodrik Harlaw. Nute the Barber gave a hoot at the sight of them. \"Reader,\" he called out, \"why is your face so long? Your misgivings were for nought. The day is ours, and ours the prize!\"\n\nLord Rodrik's mouth puckered. \"These rocks, you mean? All four together wouldn't make Harlaw. We have won some stones and trees and trinkets, and the enmity of House Tyrell.\"\n\n\"The roses?\" Nute laughed. \"What rose can harm the krakens of the deep? We have taken their shields from them, and smashed them all to pieces. Who will protect them now?\"\n\n\"Highgarden,\" replied the Reader. \"Soon enough all the power of the Reach will be marshaled against us, Barber, and then you may learn that some roses have steel thorns.\"\n\nDrumm nodded, one hand on the hilt of his Red Rain. \"Lord Tarly bears the greatsword Heartsbane, forged of Valyrian steel, and he is always in Lord Tyrell's van.\"\n\nVictarion's hunger flared. \"Let him come. I will take his sword for mine own, as your own forebear took Red Rain. Let them all come, and bring the Lannisters as well. A lion maybe fierce enough on land, but at sea the kraken rules supreme.\" He would give half his teeth for the chance to try his axe against the Kingslayer or the Knight of Flowers. That was the sort of battle that he understood. The kinslayer was accursed in the eyes of gods and men, but the warrior was honored and revered.\n\n\"Have no fear, Lord Captain,\" said the Reader. \"They will come. His Grace desires it. Why else would he have commanded us to let Hewett's ravens fly?\""
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You read too much and fight too little,\" Nute said. \"Your blood is milk.\" But the Reader made as if he had not heard.\n\nA riotous feast was in progress when Victarion entered the hall. Ironborn filled the tables, drinking and shouting and jostling each other, boasting of the men that they had slain, the deeds that they had done, the prizes they had won. Many were bedecked with plunder. Left-Hand Lucas Codd and Quellon Humble had torn tapestries off the walls to serve as cloaks. Germund Botley wore a rope of pearls and garnets over his gilded Lannister breastplate. Andrik the Unsmiling staggered by with a woman under each arm; though he remained unsmiling, he had rings on every finger. Instead of trenchers carved from old stale bread, the captains were eating off solid silver platters.\n\nNute the Barber's face grew dark with anger as he looked about. \"The Crow's Eye sends us forth to face the longships, whilst his own men take the castles and the villages and grab all the loot and women. What has he left for us?\"\n\n\"We have the glory.\"\n\n\"Glory is good,\" said Nute, \"but gold is better.\"\n\nVictarion shrugged. \"The Crow's Eye says we shall have all of Westeros. The Arbor, Oldtown, Highgarden... that's where you'll find your gold. But enough talk. I'm hungry.\"\n\nBy right of blood Victarion might have claimed a seat on the dais, but he did not care to eat with Euron and his creatures. Instead, he chose a place by Ralf the Limper, the captain of the Lord Quellon. \"A great victory, Lord Captain,\" said the Limper. \"A victory worthy of a lordship. You should have an island.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Victarion. Aye, and why not? It might not be the Seastone Chair, but it would be something.\n\nHotho Harlaw was across the table, sucking meat off a bone. He flicked it aside and hunched forward. \"The Knight's to have Greyshield. My cousin. Did you hear?\"\n\n\"No.\" Victarion looked across the hall, to where Ser Harras Harlaw sat drinking wine from a golden cup; a tall man, long-faced and austere. \"Why would Euron give that one an island?\"\n\nHotho held out his empty wine cup, and a pale young woman in a gown of blue velvet and gilt lace refilled it for him. \"The Knight took Grimston by himself. He planted his standard beneath the castle and defied the Grimms to face him. One did, and then another, and another. He slew them all... well, near enough, two yielded. When the seventh man went down, Lord Grimm's septon decided the gods had spoken and surrendered the castle.\" Hotho laughed. \"He'll be the Lord of Greyshield, and welcome to it. With him gone, I am the Reader's heir.\" He thumped his wine cup against his chest. \"Hotho the Humpback, Lord of Harlaw.\"\n\n\"Seven, you say.\" Victarion wondered how Nightfall would fare against his axe. He had never fought a man armed with a Valyrian steel blade, though he had thrashed young Harras Harlaw many a time when both of them were young. As a boy Harlaw had been fast friends with Balon's eldest son, Rodrik, who had died beneath the walls of Seagard.\n\nThe feast was good. The wine was of the best, and there was roast ox, rare and bloody, and stuffed ducks as well, and buckets of fresh crabs. The serving wenches wore fine woolens and plush velvets, the Lord Captain did not fail to note. He took them for scullions dressed up in the clothes of Lady Hewett and her ladies, until Hotho told him they were Lady Hewett and her ladies. It amused the Crow's Eye to make them wait and pour. There were eight of them: her ladyship herself, still handsome though grown somewhat stout, and seven younger women aged from twenty-five to ten, her daughters and good-daughters."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Hewett himself satin his accustomed place upon the dais, dressed in all his heraldic finery. His arms and legs had been tied to his chair, and a huge white radish shoved between his teeth so he could not speak... though he could see and hear. The Crow's Eye had claimed the place of honor at his lordship's right hand. A pretty, buxom girl of seventeen or eighteen years was in his lap, barefoot and disheveled, her arms around his neck. \"Who is that?\" Victarion asked the men around him.\n\n\"His lordship's bastard daughter,\" laughed Hotho. \"Before Euron took the castle, she was made to wait at table on the rest and take her own meals with the servants.\"\n\nEuron put his blue lips to her throat, and the girl giggled and whispered something in his ear. Smiling, he kissed her throat again. Her white skin was covered with red marks where his mouth had been; they made a rosy necklace about her neck and shoulders. Another whisper in his ear, and this time the Crow's Eye laughed aloud, then slammed his wine cup down for silence. \"Good ladies,\" he called out to his highborn serving women, \"Falia is concerned for your fine gowns. She would not have them stained with grease and wine and dirty groping fingers, since I have promised that she may choose her own clothes from your wardrobes after the feast. So you had best disrobe.\"\n\nA roar of laughter washed over the great hall, and Lord Hewett's face turned so red that Victarion thought his head might burst. The women had no choice but to obey. The youngest one cried a little, but her mother comforted her and helped undo the laces down her back. Afterward, they continued to serve as before, moving along the tables with flagons full of wine to fill each empty cup, only now they did so naked."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He shames Hewett as he once shamed me, the captain thought, remembering how his wife had sobbed as he was beating her. The men of the Four Shields oft married one another, he knew, just as the ironborn did. One of these naked serving wenches might well be Ser Talbert Serry's wife. It was one thing to kill a foe, another to dishonor him. Victarion made a fist. His hand was bloody where his wound had soaked through the linen.\n\nOn the dais, Euron pushed aside his slattern and climbed upon the table. The captains began to bang their cups and stamp their feet upon the floor. \"EURON!\" they shouted. \"EURON! EURON! EURON!\" It was kingsmoot come again.\n\n\"I swore to give you Westeros,\" the Crow's Eye said when the tumult died away, \"and here is your first taste. A morsel, nothing more... but we shall feast before the fall of night!\" The torches along the walls were burning bright, and so was he, blue lips, blue eye, and all. \"What the kraken grasps it does not loose. These isles were once ours, and now they are again... but we need strongmen to hold them. So rise, Ser Harras Harlaw, Lord of Greyshield.\" The Knight stood, one hand upon Nightfall's moonstone pommel. \"Rise, Andrik the Unsmiling, Lord of Southshield.\" Andrik shoved away his women and lurched to his feet, like a mountain rising sudden from the sea. \"Rise, Maron Volmark, Lord of Greenshield.\" A beardless boy of six-and-ten years, Volmark stood hesitantly, looking like the lord of rabbits. \"And rise, Nute the Barber, Lord of Oakenshield.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Nute's eyes grew wary, as if he feared he was the butt of some cruel jape."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A lord?\" he croaked.\n\nVictarion had expected the Crow's Eye to give the lordships to his own creatures, Stonehand and the Red Oarsman and Left-Hand Lucas Codd. A king must needs be open-handed, he tried to tell himself, but another voice whispered, Euron's gifts are poisoned. When he turned it over in his head, he saw it plain. The Knight was the Reader's chosen heir, and Andrik the Unsmiling the strong right arm of Dunstan Drumm. Volmark is a callow boy, but he has Black Harren's blood in him through his mother. And the Barber...\n\nVictarion grabbed him by the forearm. \"Refuse him!\"\n\nNute looked at him as if he had gone mad. \"Refuse him? Lands and lordship? Will you make me a lord?\" He wrenched his arm away and stood, basking in the cheers.\n\nAnd now he steals my men away, Victarion thought.\n\nKing Euron called to Lady Hewett fora fresh cup of wine and raised it high above his head. \"Captains and kings, lift your cups to the Lords of the Four Shields!\" Victarion drank with the rest. There is no wine so sweet as wine taken from a foe. Someone had told him that once. His father, or his brother Balon. One day I shall drink your wine, Crow's Eye, and take from you all that you hold dear. But was there anything Euron held dear?\n\n\"On the morrow we prepare once more to sail,\" the king was saying. \"Fill our casks anew with spring water, take every sack of grain and cask of beef, and as many sheep and goats as we can carry. The wounded who are still hale enough to pull an oar will row. The rest shall remain here, to help hold these isles for their new lords. Torwold and the Red Oarsman will soon be back with more provisions. Our decks will stink of pigs and chickens on the voyage east, but we'll return with dragons.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"When?\" The voice was Lord Rodrik's. \"When shall we return, Your Grace? A year? Three years? Five? Your dragons area world away, and autumn is upon us.\" The Reader walked forward, sounding all the hazards. \"Galleys guard the Redwyne Straits. The Dornish coast is dry and bleak, four hundred leagues of whirlpools, cliffs, and hidden shoals with hardly a safe landing anywhere. Beyond wait the Stepstones, with their storms and their nests of Lysene and Myrish pirates. If a thousand ships set sail, three hundred may reach the far side of the narrow sea... and then what? Lys will not welcome us, nor will Volantis. Where will you find freshwater, food? The first storm will scatter us across half the earth.\"\n\nA smile played across Euron's blue lips. \"I am the storm, my lord. The first storm, and the last. I have taken the Silence on longer voyages than this, and ones far more hazardous. Have you forgotten? I have sailed the Smoking Sea and seen Valyria.\"\n\nEvery man there knew that the Doom still ruled Valyria. The very sea there boiled and smoked, and the land was overrun with demons. It was said that any sailor whoso much as glimpsed the fiery mountains of Valyria rising above the waves would soon die a dreadful death, yet the Crow's Eye had been there, and returned.\n\n\"Have you?\" the Reader asked, so softly.\n\nEuron's blue smile vanished. \"Reader,\" he said into the quiet, \"you would do well to keep your nose in your books.\"\n\nVictarion could feel the unease in the hall. He pushed himself to his feet. \"Brother,\" he boomed. \"You have not answered Harlaw's questions.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Euron shrugged. \"The price of slaves is rising. We will sell our slaves in Lys and Volantis. That, and the plunder we have taken here, will give us sufficient gold to buy provisions.\"\n\n\"Are we slavers now?\" asked the Reader. \"And for what? Dragons that no man here has seen? Shall we chase some drunken sailor's fancy to the far ends of the earth?\"\n\nHis words drew mutters of assent. \"Slaver's Bay is too far,\" called out Ralf the Limper. \"And too close to Valyria,\" shouted Quellon Humble. Fralegg the Strong said, \"Highgarden's close. I say, look for dragons there. The golden kind!\" Alvyn Sharp said, \"Why sail the world, when the Mander lies before us?\" Red Ralf Stonehouse bounded to his feet. \"Oldtown is richer, and the Arbor richer still. Redwyne's fleet is off away. We need only reach out our hand to pluck the ripest fruit in Westeros.\"\n\n\"Fruit?\" The king's eye looked more black than blue. \"Only a craven would steal a fruit when he could take the orchard.\"\n\n\"It is the Arbor we want,\" said Red Ralf, and other men took up the cry. The Crow's Eyelet the shouts wash over him. Then he leapt down from the table, grabbed his slattern by the arm, and pulled her from the hall.\n\nFled, like a dog. Euron's hold upon the Seastone Chair suddenly did not seem as secure as it had a few moments before. They will not follow him to Slaver's Bay. Perhaps they are not such dogs and fools as I had feared. That was such a merry thought that Victarion had to wash it down. He drained a cup with the Barber, to show him that he did not begrudge him his lordship, even if it came from Euron's hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Outside the sun went down. Darkness gathered beyond the walls, but inside the torches burned with a ruddy orange glow, and their smoke gathered under the rafters like a grey cloud. Drunken men began to dance the finger dance. At some point Left-Hand Lucas Codd decided he wanted one of Lord Hewett's daughters, so he took heron a table whilst her sisters screamed and sobbed.\n\nVictarion felt a tap upon his shoulder. One of Euron's mongrel sons stood behind him, a boy often with woolly hair and skin the color of mud. \"My father wishes words with you.\"\n\nVictarion rose unsteadily. He was a big man, with a large capacity for wine, but even so, he had drunk too much. I beat her to death with mine own hands, he thought, but the Crow's Eye killed her when he shoved himself inside her. I had no choice. He followed the bastard boy from the hall and up a winding stone stair. The sounds of rape and revelry diminished as they climbed, until there was only the soft scrape of boots on stone.\n\nThe Crow's Eye had taken Lord Hewett's bedchamber along with his bastard daughter. When he entered, the girl was sprawled naked on the bed, snoring softly. Euron stood by the window, drinking from a silver cup. He wore the sable cloak he took from Blacktyde, his red leather eye patch, and nothing else. \"When I was a boy, I dreamt that I could fly,\" he announced. \"When I woke, I couldn't... or so the maester said. But what if he lied?\"\n\nVictarion could smell the sea through the open window, though the room stank of wine and blood and sex. The cold salt air helped to clear his head. \"What do you mean?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Euron turned to face him, his bruised blue lips curled in a half smile."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perhaps we can fly. All of us. How will we ever know unless we leap from some tall tower?\" The wind came gusting through the window and stirred his sable cloak. There was something obscene and disturbing about his nakedness. \"No man ever truly knows what he can do unless he dares to leap.\"\n\n\"There is the window. Leap.\" Victarion had no patience for this. His wounded hand was troubling him. \"What do you want?\"\n\n\"The world.\" Firelight glimmered in Euron's eye. His smiling eye. \"Will you take a cup of Lord Hewett's wine? There's no wine half so sweet as wine taken from a beaten foe.\"\n\n\"No.\" Victarion glanced away. \"Cover yourself.\"\n\nEuron seated himself and gave his cloak a twitch, so it covered his private parts. \"I had forgotten what a small and noisy folk they are, my ironborn. I would bring them dragons, and they shout out for grapes.\"\n\n\"Grapes are real. A man can gorge himself on grapes. Their juice is sweet, and they make wine. What do dragons make?\"\n\n\"Woe.\" The Crow's Eye sipped from his silver cup. \"I once held a dragon's egg in this hand, brother. This Myrish wizard swore he could hatch it if I gave him a year and all the gold that he required. When I grew bored with his excuses, I slew him. Ashe watched his entrails sliding through his fingers he said, \"But it has not been a year.\"\" He laughed. \"Cragorn's died, you know.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"The man who blew my dragon horn. When the maester cut him open, his lungs were charred as black as soot.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Victarion shuddered. \"Show me this dragon's egg.\"\n\n\"I threw it in the sea during one of my dark moods.\" Euron gave a shrug. \"It comes tome that the Reader was not wrong. Too large a fleet could never hold together over such a distance. The voyage is too long, too perilous. Only our finest ships and crews could hope to sail to Slaver's Bay and back. The Iron Fleet.\"\n\nThe Iron Fleet is mine, Victarion thought. He said nothing.\n\nThe Crow's Eye filled two cups with a strange black wine that flowed as thick as honey. \"Drink with me, brother. Have a taste of this.\" He offered one of the cups to Victarion.\n\nThe captain took the cup Euron had not offered, sniffed at its contents suspiciously. Seen up close, it looked more blue than black. It was thick and oily, with a smell like rotted flesh. He tried a small swallow, and spit it out at once. \"Foul stuff. Do you mean to poison me?\"\n\n\"I mean to open your eyes.\" Euron drank deep from his own cup, and smiled. \"Shade-of-the-evening, the wine of the warlocks. I came upon a cask of it when I captured a certain galleas out of Qarth, along with some cloves and nutmeg, forty bolts of green silk, and four warlocks who told a curious tale. One presumed to threaten me, so I killed him and fed him to the other three. They refused to eat of their friend's flesh at first, but when they grew hungry enough they had a change of heart. Men are meat.\"\n\nBalon was mad, Aeron is madder, and Euron is maddest of them all. Victarion was turning to go when the Crow's Eye said, \"A king must have a wife, to give him heirs. Brother, I have need of you. Will you go to Slaver's Bay and bring my love tome?\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Scribe for the author and continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 32"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Victarion shuddered. \"Show me this dragon's egg.\"\n\n\"I threw it in the sea during one of my dark moods.\" Euron gave a shrug. \"It comes tome that the Reader was not wrong. Too large a fleet could never hold together over such a distance. The voyage is too long, too perilous. Only our finest ships and crews could hope to sail to Slaver's Bay and back. The Iron Fleet.\"\n\nThe Iron Fleet is mine, Victarion thought. He said nothing.\n\nThe Crow's Eye filled two cups with a strange black wine that flowed as thick as honey. \"Drink with me, brother. Have a taste of this.\" He offered one of the cups to Victarion.\n\nThe captain took the cup Euron had not offered, sniffed at its contents suspiciously. Seen up close, it looked more blue than black. It was thick and oily, with a smell like rotted flesh. He tried a small swallow, and spit it out at once. \"Foul stuff. Do you mean to poison me?\"\n\n\"I mean to open your eyes.\" Euron drank deep from his own cup, and smiled. \"Shade-of-the-evening, the wine of the warlocks. I came upon a cask of it when I captured a certain galleas out of Qarth, along with some cloves and nutmeg, forty bolts of green silk, and four warlocks who told a curious tale. One presumed to threaten me, so I killed him and fed him to the other three. They refused to eat of their friend's flesh at first, but when they grew hungry enough they had a change of heart. Men are meat.\"\n\nBalon was mad, Aeron is madder, and Euron is maddest of them all. Victarion was turning to go when the Crow's Eye said, \"A king must have a wife, to give him heirs. Brother, I have need of you. Will you go to Slaver's Bay and bring my love tome?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I had a love once too. Victarion's hands coiled into fists, and a drop of blood fell to patter on the floor. I should beat you raw and red and feed you to the crabs, the same as I did her. \"You have sons,\" he told his brother.\n\n\"Baseborn mongrels, born of whores and weepers.\"\n\n\"They are of your body.\"\n\n\"So are the contents of my chamber pot. None is fit to sit the Seastone Chair, much less the Iron Throne. No, to make an heir that's worthy of him, I need a different woman. When the kraken weds the dragon, brother, let all the world beware.\"\n\n\"What dragon?\" said Victarion, frowning.\n\n\"The last of her line. They say she is the fairest woman in the world. Her hair is silver-gold, and her eyes are amethysts... but you need not take my word for it, brother. Go to Slaver's Bay, behold her beauty, and bring her back tome.\"\n\n\"Why should I?\" Victarion demanded.\n\n\"For love. For duty. Because your king commands it.\" Euron chuckled. \"And for the Seastone Chair. It is yours, once I claim the Iron Throne. You shall follow meas I followed Balon... and your own trueborn sons shall one day follow you.\"\n\nMy own sons. But to have a trueborn son a man must first have a wife. Victarion had no luck with wives. Euron's gifts are poisoned, he reminded himself, but still...\n\n\"The choice is yours, brother. Live a thrall or die a king. Do you dare to fly? Unless you take the leap, you'll never know.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Euron's smiling eye was bright with mockery."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Or do I ask too much of you? It is a fearsome thing to sail beyond Valyria.\"\n\n\"I could sail the Iron Fleet to hell if need be.\" When Victarion opened his hand, his palm was red with blood. \"I'll go to Slaver's Bay, aye. I'll find this dragon woman, and I'll bring her back.\" But not for you. You stole my wife and despoiled her, so I'll have yours. The fairest woman in the world, for me."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nThe fields outside the walls of Darry were being tilled once more. The burned crops had been plowed under, and Ser Addam's scouts reported seeing women in the furrows pulling weeds, whilst a team of oxen broke new ground on the edge of a nearby wood. A dozen bearded men with axes stood guard over them as they worked.\n\nBy the time Jaime and his column reached the castle, all of them had fled within the walls. He found Darry closed to him, just as Harrenhal had been. A chilly welcome from mine own blood.\n\n\"Sound the horn,\" he commanded. Ser Kennos of Kayce unslung the Horn of Herrock and let it wind. Ashe waited fora response from the castle, Jaime eyed the banner floating brown and crimson above his cousin's barbican. Lancel had taken to quartering the lion of Lannister with the Darry plowman, it would seem. He saw his uncle's hand in that, as in Lancel's choice of bride. House Darry had ruled these lands since the Andals cast down the First Men. No doubt Ser Kevan realized that his son would have an easier time of it if the peasants saw him as a continuation of the old line, holding these lands by right of marriage rather than royal decree. Kevan should be Tommen's Hand. Harys Swyft is a toad, and my sister is a fool if she thinks elsewise.\n\nThe castle gates swung open slowly. \"My coz will not have room to accommodate a thousand men,\" Jaime told Strongboar. \"We'll make camp beneath the western wall. I want the perimeters ditched and staked. There are still bands of outlaws in these parts.\"\n\n\"They'd need to be mad to attack a force as strong as ours.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Mad or starving.\" Until he had a better notion of these outlaws and their strength, Jaime was not inclined to take any risks with his defenses. \"Ditched and staked,\" he said again, before spurring Honor toward the gate. Ser Dermot rode beside him with the royal stag and lion, and Ser Hugo Vance with the white standard of the Kingsguard. Jaime had charged Red Ronnet with the task of delivering Wylis Manderly to Maidenpool, so he would not need to look on him henceforth.\n\nPia rode with Jaime's squires, on the gelding Peck had found for her. \"It's like some toy castle,\" Jaime heard her say. She's known no home but Harrenhal, he reflected. Every castle in the realm will seem small to her, except the Rock.\n\nJosmyn Peckleton was saying the same thing. \"You must not judge by Harrenhal. Black Harren built too big.\" Pia listened as solemnly as a girl of five being lessoned by her septa. That's all she is, a little girl in a woman's body, scarred and scared. Peck was taken with her, though. Jaime suspected that the boy had never known a woman, and Pia was still pretty enough, so long as she kept her mouth closed. There's no harm in him bedding her, I suppose, so long as she's willing.\n\nOne of the Mountain's men had tried to rape the girl at Harrenhal, and had seemed honestly perplexed when Jaime commanded Ilyn Payne to take his head off. \"I had her before, a hunnerd times,\" he kept saying as they forced him to his knees. \"A hunnerd times, m'lord. We all had her.\" When Ser Ilyn presented Pia with his head, she had smiled through her ruined teeth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Darry had changed hands several times during the fighting, and its castle had been burned once and sacked at least twice, but Lancel had seemingly wasted little time setting things to rights. The castle gates were newly hung, raw oaken planks reinforced with iron studs. Anew stable was going up where an older one had been put to the torch. The steps to the keep had been replaced, and the shutters on many of the windows. Blackened stones showed where the flames had licked, but time and rain would fade those.\n\nWithin the walls, crossbowmen walked the ramparts, some in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms, others in the blue and grey of House Frey. As Jaime trotted across the yard, chickens ran out from under Honor's hooves, sheep bleated, and peasants stared at him with sullen eyes. Armed peasants, he did not fail to note. Some had scythes, some staves, some hoes sharpened to cruel points. There were axes in evidence as well, and he spied several bearded men with red, seven-pointed stars sewn onto ragged, filthy tunics. More bloody sparrows. Where do they all come from?\n\nOf his uncle Kevan he saw no sign. Nor of Lancel. Only a maester emerged to greet him, with a grey robe flapping about his skinny legs. \"Lord Commander, Darry is honored by this... unexpected visit. You must forgive our lack of preparations. We had been given to understand that you were bound for Riverrun.\"\n\n\"Darry was on my way,\" lied Jaime. Riverrun will keep. And if perchance the siege had ended before he reached the castle, he would be spared the need to take up arms against House Tully.\n\nDismounting, he handed Honor to a stableboy. \"Will I find my uncle here?\" He did not supply a name. Ser Kevan was the only uncle he had left, the last surviving son of Tytos Lannister."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No, my lord. Ser Kevan took his leave of us after the wedding.\" The maester pulled at the chain collar, as if it had grown too tight for him. \"I know Lord Lancel will be pleased to see you and... and all your gallant knights. Though it pains me to confess that Darry cannot feed so many.\"\n\n\"We have our own provisions. You are?\"\n\n\"Maester Ottomore, if it please my lord. Lady Amerei wished to welcome you herself, but she is seeing to the preparation of a feast in your honor. It is her hope that you and your chief knights and captains will join us at table this evening.\"\n\n\"A hot meal would be most welcome. The days have been cold and wet.\" Jaime glanced about the yard, at the bearded faces of the sparrows. Too many. And too many Freys as well. \"Where will I find Hardstone?\"\n\n\"We had a report of outlaws beyond the Trident. Ser Harwyn took five knights and twenty archers and went to deal with them.\"\n\n\"And Lord Lancel?\"\n\n\"He is at his prayers. His lordship has commanded us never to disturb him when he is praying.\"\n\nHe and Ser Bonifer should get on well. \"Very well.\" There would be time enough to talk with his cousin later. \"Show me to my chambers and have a bath brought up.\"\n\n\"If it please my lord, we have put you in the Plowman's Keep. I will show you there.\"\n\n\"I know the way.\" Jaime was no stranger to this castle. He and Cersei had been guests here twice before, once on their way to Winterfell with Robert, and again on the way back to King's Landing. Though small as castles went, it was larger than an inn, with good hunting along the river. Robert Baratheon had never been loath to impose upon the hospitality of his subjects."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The keep was much as he recalled it. \"The walls are still bare,\" Jaime observed as the maester led him down a gallery.\n\n\"Lord Lancel hopes one day to cover them with hangings,\" said Ottomore. \"Scenes of piety and devotion.\"\n\nPiety and devotion. It was all he could do not to laugh. The walls had been bare on his first visit too. Tyrion had pointed out the squares of darker stone where tapestries had once hung. Ser Raymun could remove the hangings, but not the marks they'd left. Later, the Imp had slipped a handful of stags to one of Darry's serving men for the key to the cellar where the missing tapestries were hidden. He showed them to Jaime by the light of a candle, grinning; woven portraits of all the Targaryen kings, from the first Aegon to the second Aenys. \"If I tell Robert, mayhaps he'll make me Lord of Darry,\" the dwarf said, chortling.\n\nMaester Ottomore led Jaime to the top of the keep. \"I trust you will be comfortable here, my lord. There is a privy, when nature calls. Your window looks out upon the godswood. The bedchamber adjoins her ladyship's, with a servant's cell between.\"\n\n\"These were Lord Darry's own apartments.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\"\n\n\"My cousin is too kind. I did not intend to put Lancel out of his own bedchamber.\"\n\n\"Lord Lancel has been sleeping in the sept.\"\n\nSleeping with the Mother and the Maiden, when he has a warm wife just through that door? Jaime did not know whether to laugh or weep. Maybe he is praying for his cock to harden. In King's Landing it had been rumored that Lancel's wounds had left him incapable. Still, he ought to have sense enough to try. His cousin's hold on his new lands would not be secure until he fathered a son on his half-Darry wife. Jaime had begun to rue the impulse that had brought him here. He gave thanks to Ottomore, reminded him about the bath, and had Peck see him out."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "The lord's bedchamber had changed since his last visit, and not for the better. Old stale rushes covered the floor in place of the fine Myrish carpet that had been there previously, and all the furnishings were new and crudely made. Ser Raymun Darry's bed had been large enough to sleep six, with brown velvet draperies and oakwood posts carved with vines and leaves; Lancel's was a lumpy straw pallet, placed beneath the window where the first light of day would be sure to wake him. The other bed had no doubt been burned or smashed or stolen, but even so...\n\nWhen the tub arrived, Little Lew pulled off Jaime's boots and helped remove his golden hand. Peck and Garrett hauled water, and Pia found him something clean to sup in. The girl glanced at him shyly as she shook his doublet out. Jaime was uncomfortably aware of the curve of hip and breast beneath her roughspun brown dress. He found himself remembering the things that Pia had whispered to him at Harrenhal, the night that Qyburn sent her to his bed. Sometimes when I'm with some man, she'd said, I close my eyes and pretend it's you on top of me.\n\nHe was grateful when the bath was deep enough to conceal his arousal. Ashe lowered himself into the steaming water, he recalled another bath, the one he'd shared with Brienne. He had been feverish and weak from loss of blood, and the heat had made him so dizzy he found himself saying things better left unsaid. This time he had no such excuse. Remember your vows. Pia is more fit for Tyrion's bed than yours. \"Fetch me soap and a stiff brush,\" he told Peck. \"Pia, you may leave us.\"\n\n\"Aye, m'lord. Thank you, m'lord.\" She covered her mouth when she spoke, to hide her broken teeth."
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"value": "\"Do you want her?\" Jaime asked Peck, when she was gone.\n\nThe squire turned beet red.\n\n\"If she'll have you, take her. She'll teach you a few things you'll find useful on your wedding night, I don't doubt, and you're not like to get a bastard by her.\" Pia had spread her legs for half his father's army and never quickened; most like the girl was barren. \"If you bed her, though, be kind to her.\"\n\n\"Kind, my lord? How... how would I...?\"\n\n\"Sweet words. Gentle touches. You don't want towed her, but so long as you're abed treat her as you would your bride.\"\n\nThe lad nodded. \"My lord, I... where should I take her? There's never a place to... to...\"\n\n\"... to be alone?\" Jaime grinned. \"We'll beat supper several hours. The straw looks lumpy, but it should serve.\"\n\nPeck's eyes grew wide. \"His lordship's bed?\"\n\n\"You'll feel a lord yourself when you're done, if Pia knows her business.\" And someone ought to make some use of that miserable straw mattress.\n\nWhen he descended for the feast that night, Jaime Lannister wore a doublet of red velvet slashed with cloth-of-gold, and a golden chain studded with black diamonds. He had strapped on his golden hand as well, polished to a fine bright sheen. This was no fit place to wear his whites. His duty awaited him at Riverrun; a darker need had brought him here.\n\nDarry's great hall was great only by courtesy. Trestle tables crowded it from wall to wall, and the ceiling rafters were black with smoke. Jaime had been seated on the dais, to the right of Lancel's empty chair. \"Will my cousin not be joining us for supper?\" he asked as he sat down."
},
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"value": "\"My lord prefers to fast,\" said Lancel's wife, the Lady Amerei."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He's sick with grief for the poor High Septon.\" She was along-legged, full-breasted, strapping girl of some eight-and-ten years; a healthy wench to look at her, though her pinched, chinless face reminded Jaime of his late and unlamented cousin Cleos, who had always looked somewhat like a weasel.\n\nFasting? He is an even bigger fool than I suspected. His cousin should be busy fathering a little weasel-faced heir on his widow instead of starving himself to death. He wondered what Ser Kevan might have had to say about his son's new fervor. Could that be the reason for his uncle's abrupt departure?\n\nOver bowls of bean-and-bacon soup Lady Amerei told Jaime how her first husband had been slain by Ser Gregor Clegane when the Freys were still fighting for Robb Stark. \"I begged him not to go, but my Pate was oh so very brave, and swore he was the man to slay that monster. He wanted to make a great name for himself.\"\n\nWe all do. \"When I was a squire I told myself I'd be the man to slay the Smiling Knight.\"\n\n\"The Smiling Knight?\" She sounded lost. \"Who was that?\"\n\nThe Mountain of my boyhood. Half as big but twice as mad.\n\n\"An outlaw, long dead. No one who need concern your ladyship.\"\n\nAmerei's lip trembled. Tears rolled from her brown eyes.\n\n\"You must forgive my daughter,\" said an older woman. Lady Amerei had brought a score of Freys to Darry with her; a sister, an uncle, a half uncle, various cousins... and her mother, who had been born a Darry. \"She still grieves for her father.\""
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"value": "\"Outlaws killed him,\" sobbed Lady Amerei. \"Father had only gone out to ransom Petyr Pimple. He brought them the gold they asked for, but they hung him anyway.\"\n\n\"Hanged, Ami. Your father was not a tapestry.\" Lady Mariya turned back to Jaime. \"I believe you knew him, ser.\"\n\n\"We were squires together once, at Crakehall.\" He would not go so far as to claim they had been friends. When Jaime had arrived, Merrett Frey had been the castle bully, lording it overall the younger boys. Then he tried to bully me. \"He was... very strong.\" It was the only praise that came to mind. Merrett had been slow and clumsy and stupid, but he was strong.\n\n\"You fought against the Kingswood Brotherhood together,\" sniffed Lady Amerei. \"Father used to tell me stories.\"\n\nFather used to boast and lie, you mean. \"We did.\" Frey's chief contributions to the fight had consisted of contracting the pox from a camp follower and getting himself captured by the White Fawn. The outlaw queen burned her sigil into his arse before ransoming him back to Sumner Crakehall. Merrett had not been able to sit down fora fortnight, though Jaime doubted that the red-hot iron was half so nasty as the kettles of shit his fellow squires made him eat once he was returned. Boys are the cruelest creatures on the earth. He slipped his golden hand around his wine cup and raised it up. \"To Merrett's memory,\" he said. It was easier to drink to the man than to talk of him.\n\nAfter the toast Lady Amerei stopped weeping and the table talk turned to wolves, of the four-footed kind. Ser Danwell Frey claimed there were more of them about than even his grandfather could remember. \"They've lost all fear of men. Packs of them attacked our baggage train on our way down from the Twins. Our archers had to feather a dozen before the others fled.\" Ser Addam Marbrand confessed that their own column had faced similar troubles on their way up from King's Landing."
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"value": "Jaime concentrated on the fare before him, tearing off chunks of bread with his left hand and fumbling at his wine cup with his right. He watched Addam Marbrand charm the girl beside him, watched Steffon Swyft refight the battle for King's Landing with bread and nuts and carrots. Ser Kennos pulled a serving girl into his lap, urging her to stroke his horn, whilst Ser Dermot regaled some squires with tales of knight errantry in the rainwood. Farther down the table Hugo Vance had closed his eyes. Brooding on the mysteries of life, thought Jaime. That, or napping between courses. He turned back to Lady Mariya. \"The outlaws who killed your husband... was it Lord Beric's band?\"\n\n\"So we thought, at first.\" Though Lady Mariya's hair was streaked with grey, she was still a handsome woman. \"The killers scattered when they left Oldstones. Lord Vypren tracked one band to Fairmarket, but lost them there. Black Walder led hounds and hunters into Hag's Mire after the others. The peasants denied seeing them, but when questioned sharply they sang a different song. They spoke of a one-eyed man and another who wore a yellow cloak... and a woman, cloaked and hooded.\"\n\n\"A woman?\" He would have thought that the White Fawn would have taught Merrett to stay clear of outlaw wenches. \"There was a woman in the Kingswood Brotherhood as well.\"\n\n\"I know of her.\" How not, her tone suggested, when she left her mark upon my husband? \"The White Fawn was young and fair, they say. This hooded woman is neither. The peasants would have us believe that her face was torn and scarred, and her eyes terrible to look upon. They claim she led the outlaws.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Led them?\" Jaime found that hard to believe. \"Beric Dondarrion and the red priest...\"\n\n\"... were not seen.\" Lady Mariya sounded certain.\n\n\"Dondarrion's dead,\" said Strongboar. \"The Mountain drove a knife through his eye, we have men with us who saw it.\"\n\n\"That's one tale,\" said Addam Marbrand. \"Others will tell you that Lord Beric can't be killed.\"\n\n\"Ser Harwyn says those tales are lies.\" Lady Amerei wound a braid around her finger. \"He has promised me Lord Beric's head. He's very gallant.\" She was blushing beneath her tears.\n\nJaime thought back on the head he'd given to Pia. He could almost hear his little brother chuckle. Whatever became of giving women flowers? Tyrion might have asked. He would have had a few choice words for Harwyn Plumm as well, though gallant would not have been one of them. Plumm's brothers were big, fleshy fellows with thick necks and red faces; loud and lusty, quick to laugh, quick to anger, quick to forgive. Harwyn was a different sort of Plumm; hard-eyed and taciturn, unforgiving... and deadly, with his hammer in his hand. A good man to command a garrison, but not a man to love. Although... Jaime gazed at Lady Amerei.\n\nThe serving men were bringing out the fish course, a river pike baked in a crust of herbs and crushed nuts. Lancel's lady tasted it, approved, and commanded that the first portion be served to Jaime. As they set the fish before him, she leaned across her husband's place to touch his golden hand. \"You could kill Lord Beric, Ser Jaime. You slew the Smiley Knight. Please, my lord, I beg you, stay and help us with Lord Beric and the Hound.\" Her pale fingers caressed his golden ones."
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"value": "Does she think that I can feel that? \"The Sword of the Morning slew the Smiling Knight, my lady. Ser Arthur Dayne, a better knight than me.\" Jaime pulled back his golden fingers and turned once more to Lady Mariya. \"How far did Black Walder track this hooded woman and her men?\"\n\n\"His hounds picked up their scent again north of Hag's Mire,\" the older woman told him. \"He swears that he was no more than half a day behind them when they vanished into the Neck.\"\n\n\"Let them rot there,\" declared Ser Kennos cheerfully. \"If the gods are good, they'll be swallowed up in quicksand or gobbled down by lizard-lions.\"\n\n\"Or taken in by frogeaters,\" said Ser Danwell Frey. \"I would not put it past the crannogmen to shelter outlaws.\"\n\n\"Would that it were only them,\" said Lady Mariya. \"Some of the river lords are hand in glove with Lord Beric's men as well.\"\n\n\"The smallfolk too,\" sniffed her daughter. \"Ser Harwyn says they hide them and feed them, and when he asks where they've gone, they lie. They lie to their own lords!\"\n\n\"Have their tongues out,\" urged Strongboar.\n\n\"Good luck getting answers then,\" said Jaime. \"If you want their help, you need to make them love you. That was how Arthur Dayne did it, when we rode against the Kingswood Brotherhood. He paid the smallfolk for the food we ate, brought their grievances to King Aerys, expanded the grazing lands around their villages, even won them the right to fella certain number of trees each year and take a few of the king's deer during the autumn. The forest folk had looked to Toyne to defend them, but Ser Arthur did more for them than the Brotherhood could ever hope to do, and won them to our side. After that, the rest was easy.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Lord Commander speaks wisely,\" said Lady Mariya. \"We shall never be rid of these outlaws until the smallfolk come to love Lancel as much as they once loved my father and grandfather.\"\n\nJaime glanced at his cousin's empty place. Lancel will never win their love by praying, though.\n\nLady Amerei put on a pout. \"Ser Jaime, I pray you, do not abandon us. My lord has need of you, and so do I. These are such fearful times. Some nights I can hardly sleep, for fear.\"\n\n\"My place is with the king, my lady.\"\n\n\"I'll come,\" offered Strongboar. \"Once we're done at Riverrun, I'll be itching for another fight. Not that Beric Dondarrion is like to give me one. I recall the man from tourneys past. A comely lad in a pretty cloak, he was. Slight and callow.\"\n\n\"That was before he died,\" said young Ser Arwood Frey. \"Death changed him, the smallfolk say. You can kill him, but he won't stay dead. How do you fight a manlike that? And there's the Hound as well. He slew twenty men at Saltpans.\"\n\nStrongboar guffawed. \"Twenty fat innkeeps, maybe. Twenty serving men pissing in their breeches. Twenty begging brothers armed with bowls. Not twenty knights. Not me.\"\n\n\"There is a knight at Saltpans,\" Ser Arwood insisted. \"He hid behind his walls whilst Clegane and his mad dogs ravaged through his town. You have not seen the things he did, ser. I have. When the reports reached the Twins, I rode down with Harys Haigh and his brother Donnel and half a hundred men, archers and men-at-arms. We thought it was Lord Beric's work, and hoped to find his trail. All that remains of Saltpans is the castle, and old Ser Quincy so frightened he would not open his gates, but shouted down at us from his battlements. The rest is bones and ashes. A whole town. The Hound put the buildings to the torch and the people to the sword and rode off laughing. The women... you would not believe what he did to some of the women. I will not speak of it at table. It made me sick to see.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I cried when I heard,\" said Lady Amerei.\n\nJaime sipped his wine. \"What makes you certain it was the Hound?\" What they were describing sounded more like Gregor's work than Sandor's. Sandor had been hard and brutal, yes, but it was his big brother who was the real monster in House Clegane.\n\n\"He was seen,\" Ser Arwood said. \"That helm of his is not easily mistaken, nor forgotten, and there were a few who survived to tell the tale. The girl he raped, some boys who hid, a woman we found trapped beneath a blackened beam, the fisherfolk who watched the butchery from their boats...\"\n\n\"Do not call it butchery,\" Lady Mariya said softly. \"That gives insult to honest butchers everywhere. Saltpans was the work of some fell beast inhuman skin.\"\n\nThis is a time for beasts, Jaime reflected, for lions and wolves and angry dogs, for ravens and carrion crows.\n\n\"Evil work.\" Strongboar filled his cup again. \"Lady Mariya, Lady Amerei, your distress has moved me. You have my word, once Riverrun has fallen I shall return to hunt down the Hound and kill him for you. Dogs do not frighten me.\"\n\nThis one should. Both men were large and powerful, but Sandor Clegane was much quicker, and fought with a savagery that Lyle Crakehall could not hope to match.\n\nLady Amerei was thrilled, however. \"You area true knight, Ser Lyle, to help a lady in distress.\"\n\nAt least she did not call herself'a maiden.\" Jaime reached for his cup and knocked it over. The linen tablecloth drank the wine. As the red stain spread, his companions all pretended not to notice. High table courtesy, he told himself, but it tasted just like pity. He rose abruptly. \"My lady. Pray excuse me.\""
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"value": "Lady Amerei looked stricken. \"Would you leave us? There's venison to come, and capons stuffed with leeks and mushrooms.\"\n\n\"Very fine, no doubt, but I could not eat another bite. I need to see my cousin.\" Bowing, Jaime left them to their food.\n\nMen were eating in the yard as well. The sparrows had gathered round a dozen cookfires to warm their hands against the chill of dusk and watch fat sausages spit and sizzle above the flames. There had to be a hundred of them. Useless mouths. Jaime wondered how many sausages his cousin had laid by and how he intended to feed the sparrows once they were gone. They will be eating rats by winter, unless they can get a harvest in. This late in autumn, the chances of another harvest were not good.\n\nHe found the sept off the castle's inner ward; a windowless, seven-sided, half-timbered building with carved wood doors and a tiled roof. Three sparrows sat upon its steps. When Jaime approached, they rose. \"Where you going, m'lord?\" asked one. He was the smallest of the three, but he had the biggest beard.\n\n\"Inside.\"\n\n\"His lordship's in there, praying.\"\n\n\"His lordship is my cousin.\"\n\n\"Well, then, m'lord,\" said a different sparrow, a huge bald man with a seven-pointed star painted over one eye, \"you won't want to bother your cousin at his prayers.\"\n\n\"Lord Lancel is asking the Father Above for guidance,\" said the third sparrow, the beardless one. A boy, Jaime had thought, but her voice marked her fora woman, dressed in shapeless rags and a shirt of rusted mail. \"He is praying for the soul of the High Septon and all the others who have died.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They'll still be dead tomorrow,\" Jaime told her. \"The Father Above has more time than I do. Do you know who I am?\"\n\n\"Some lord,\" said the big man with the starry eye.\n\n\"Some cripple,\" said the small one with the big beard.\n\n\"The Kingslayer,\" said the woman, \"but we're no kings, just Poor Fellows, and you can't go in unless his lordship says you can.\" She hefted a spiked club, and the small man raised an axe.\n\nThe doors behind them opened. \"Let my cousin pass in peace, friends,\" Lancel said softly. \"I have been expecting him.\"\n\nThe sparrows moved aside.\n\nLancel looked even thinner than he had at King's Landing. He was barefoot, and dressed in a plain, roughspun tunic of undyed wool that made him look more like a beggar than a lord. The crown of his head had been shaved smooth, but his beard had grown out a little. To call it peach fuzz would have given insult to the peach. It went queerly with the white hair around his ears.\n\n\"Cousin,\" said Jaime when they were alone within the sept, \"have you lost your bloody wits?\"\n\n\"I prefer to say I've found my faith.\"\n\n\"Where is your father?\"\n\n\"Gone. We quarreled.\" Lancel knelt before the altar of his other Father. \"Will you pray with me, Jaime?\"\n\n\"If I pray nicely, will the Father give me anew hand?\"\n\n\"No. But the Warrior will give you courage, the Smith will lend you strength, and the Crone will give you wisdom.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's a hand I need.\" The seven gods loomed above carved altars, the dark wood gleaming in the candlelight. A faint smell of incense hung in the air. \"You sleep down here?\"\n\n\"Each night I make my bed beneath a different altar, and the Seven send me visions.\"\n\nBaelor the Blessed once had visions too. Especially when he was fasting. \"How long has it been since you've eaten?\"\n\n\"My faith is all the nourishment I need.\"\n\n\"Faith is like porridge. Better with milk and honey.\"\n\n\"I dreamed that you would come. In the dream you knew what I had done. How I'd sinned. You killed me for it.\"\n\n\"You're more like to kill yourself with all this fasting. Didn't Baelor the Blessed fast himself onto a bier?\"\n\n\"Our lives are candle flames, says The Seven-Pointed Star. Any errant puff of wind can snuff us out. Death is never far in this world, and seven hells await sinners who do not repent their sins. Pray with me, Jaime.\"\n\n\"If I do, will you eat a bowl of porridge?\" When his coz did not answer, Jaime sighed. \"You should be sleeping with your wife, not with the Maid. You need a son with Darry blood if you want to keep this castle.\"\n\n\"A pile of cold stones. I never asked for it. I never wanted it. I only wanted...\" Lancel shuddered. \"Seven save me, but I wanted to be you.\"\n\nJaime had to laugh. \"Better me than Blessed Baelor. Darry needs a lion, coz. So does your little Frey. She gets moist between the legs every time someone mentions Hardstone. If she hasn't bedded him yet, she will soon.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If she loves him, I wish them joy of one another.\"\n\n\"A lion shouldn't have horns. You took the girl to wife.\"\n\n\"I said some words and gave her a red cloak, but only to please Father. Marriage requires consummation. King Baelor was made towed his sister Daena, but they never lived as man and wife, and he put her aside as soon as he was crowned.\"\n\n\"The realm would have been better served if he had closed his eyes and fucked her. I know enough history to know that. In any case, you're not like to betaken for Baelor the Blessed.\"\n\n\"No,\" Lancel allowed. \"He was a rare spirit, pure and brave and innocent, untouched by all the evils of the world. I am a sinner, with much and more to atone for.\"\n\nJaime put his hand on his cousin's shoulder. \"What do you know of sin, coz? I killed my king.\"\n\n\"The brave man slays with a sword, the craven with a wineskin. We are both kingslayers, ser.\"\n\n\"Robert was no true king. Some might even say that a stag is a lion's natural prey.\" Jaime could feel the bones beneath his cousin's skin... and something else as well. Lancel was wearing a hair shirt underneath his tunic. \"What else did you do, to require so much atonement? Tell me.\"\n\nHis cousin bowed his head, tears running down his cheeks.\n\nThose tears were all the answer Jaime needed. \"You killed the king,\" he said, \"then you fucked the queen.\"\n\n\"I never...\"\n\n\"... lay with my sweet sister?\" Say it. Say it!\n\n\"Never spilled my seed in... in her...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"..."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "cunt?\" suggested Jaime.\n\n\"... womb,\" Lancel finished. \"It is not treason unless you finish inside. I gave her comfort, after the king died. You were a captive, your father was in the field, and your brother... she was afraid of him, and with good reason. He made me betray her.\"\n\n\"Did he?\" Lancel and Ser Osmund and how many more? Was the part about Moon Boy just a gibe? \"Did you force her?\"\n\n\"No! I loved her. I wanted to protect her.\"\n\nYou wanted to be me. His phantom fingers itched. The day his sister had come to White Sword Tower to beg him to renounce his vows, she had laughed after he refused her and boasted of having lied to him a thousand times. Jaime had taken that fora clumsy attempt to hurt him as he'd hurt her. It may have been the only true thing that she ever said tome.\n\n\"Do not think ill of the queen,\" Lancel pleaded. \"All flesh is weak, Jaime. No harm came of our sin. No... no bastard.\"\n\n\"No. Bastards are seldom made upon the belly.\" He wondered what his cousin would say if he were to confess his own sins, the three treasons Cersei had named Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella.\n\n\"I was angry with Her Grace after the battle, but the High Septon said I must forgive her.\"\n\n\"You confessed your sins to His High Holiness, did you?\"\n\n\"He prayed for me when I was wounded. He was a good man.\"\n\nHe's a dead man. They rang the bells for him. He wondered if his cousin had any notion what fruit his words had borne. \"Lancel, you're a bloody fool.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are not wrong,\" said Lancel, \"but my folly is behind me, ser. I have asked the Father Above to show me the way, and he has. I am renouncing this lordship and this wife. Hardstone is welcome to the both of them, if he likes. On the morrow I will return to King's Landing and swear my sword to the new High Septon and the Seven. I mean to take vows and join the Warrior's Sons.\"\n\nThe boy was not making sense. \"The Warrior's Sons were proscribed three hundred years ago.\"\n\n\"The new High Septon has revived them. He's sent out a call for worthy knights to pledge their lives and swords to the service of the Seven. The Poor Fellows are to be restored as well.\"\n\n\"Why would the Iron Throne allow that?\" One of the early Targaryen kings had fought for years to suppress the two military orders, Jaime recalled, though he did not remember which. Maegor, perhaps, or the first Jaehaerys. Tyrion would have known.\n\n\"His High Holiness writes that King Tommen has given his consent. I will show you the letter, if you like.\"\n\n\"Even if this is true... you area lion of the Rock, a lord. You have a wife, a castle, lands to defend, people to protect. If the gods are good, you will have sons of your blood to follow you. Why would you throw all that away for... for some vow?\"\n\n\"Why did you?\" asked Lancel softly.\n\nFor honor, Jaime might have said. For glory. That would have been a lie, though. Honor and glory had played their parts, but most of it had been for Cersei. A laugh escaped his lips. \"Is it the High Septon you're running to, or my sweet sister? Pray on that one, coz. Pray hard.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Will you pray with me, Jaime?\"\n\nHe glanced about the sept, at the gods. The Mother, full of mercy. The Father, stern in judgment. The Warrior, one hand upon his sword. The Stranger in the shadows, his half-human face concealed beneath a hooded mantle. I thought that I was the Warrior and Cersei was the Maid, but all the time she was the Stranger, hiding her true face from my gaze. \"Pray for me, if you like,\" he told his cousin. \"I've forgotten all the words.\"\n\nThe sparrows were still fluttering about the steps when Jaime stepped back out into the night. \"Thank you,\" he told them. \"I feel ever so much holier now.\"\n\nHe went and found Ser Ilyn and a pair of swords.\n\nThe castle yard was full of eyes and ears. To escape them, they sought out Darry's godswood. There were no sparrows there, only trees bare and brooding, their black branches scratching at the sky. A mat of dead leaves crunched beneath their feet.\n\n\"Do you see that window, ser?\" Jaime used a sword to point. \"That was Raymun Darry's bedchamber. Where King Robert slept, on our return from Winterfell. Ned Stark's daughter had runoff after her wolf savaged Joff, you'll recall. My sister wanted the girl to lose a hand. The old penalty, for striking one of the blood royal. Robert told her she was cruel and mad. They fought for half the night... well, Cersei fought, and Robert drank. Past midnight, the queen summoned me inside. The king was passed out snoring on the Myrish carpet. I asked my sister if she wanted me to carry him to bed. She told me I should carry her to bed, and shrugged out of her robe. I took heron Raymun Darry's bed after stepping over Robert. If His Grace had woken I would have killed him there and then. He would not have been the first king to die upon my sword... but you know that story, don't you?\" He slashed at a tree branch, shearing it in half. \"As I was fucking her, Cersei cried,\"I want. \"I thought that she meant me, but it was the Stark girl that she wanted, maimed or dead.\" The things I do for love. \"It was only by chance that Stark's own men found the girl before me. If I had come on her first...\""
},
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"value": "The pockmarks on Ser Ilyn's face were black holes in the torchlight, as dark as Jaime's soul. He made that clacking sound.\n\nHe is laughing at me, realized Jaime Lannister. \"For all I know you fucked my sister too, you pock-faced bastard,\" he spat out. \"Well, shut your bloody mouth and kill me if you can.\""
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"value": "BRIENNE\n\nThe septry stood upon an upthrust island half a mile from the shore, where the wide mouth of the Trident widened further still to kiss the Bay of Crabs. Even from shore its prosperity was apparent. Its slope was covered with terraced fields, with fishponds down below and a windmill above, its wood-and-sailcloth blades turning slowly in the breeze off the bay. Brienne could see sheep grazing on the hillside and storks wading in the shallow waters around the ferry landing.\n\n\"Saltpans is just across the water,\" said Septon Meribald, pointing north across the bay. \"The brothers will ferry us over on the morning tide, though I fear what we shall find there. Let us enjoy a good hot meal before we face that. The brothers always have a bone to spare for Dog.\" Dog barked and wagged his tail.\n\nThe tide was going out now, and swiftly. The water that separated the island from the shore was receding, leaving behind abroad expanse of glistening brown mudflats dotted by tidal pools that glittered like golden coins in the afternoon sun. Brienne scratched the back of her neck, where an insect had bitten her. She had pinned her hair up, and the sun had warmed her skin.\n\n\"Why do they call it the Quiet Isle?\" asked Podrick.\n\n\"Those who dwell here are penitents, who seek to atone for their sins through contemplation, prayer, and silence. Only the Elder Brother and his proctors are permitted to speak, and the proctors only for one day of every seven.\"\n\n\"The silent sisters never speak,\" said Podrick. \"I heard they don't have any tongues.\"\n\nSepton Meribald smiled. \"Mothers have been cowing their daughters with that tale since I was your age. There was no truth to it then and there is none now. Avow of silence is an act of contrition, a sacrifice by which we prove our devotion to the Seven Above. Fora mute to take avow of silence would be akin to a legless man giving up the dance.\" He led his donkey down the slope, beckoning them to follow. \"If you would sleep beneath a roof tonight, you must climb off your horses and cross the mud with me. The path of faith, we call it. Only the faithful may cross safely. The wicked are swallowed by the quicksands, or drowned when the tide comes rushing in. None of you are wicked, I hope? Even so, I would be careful where I set my feet. Walk only where I walk, and you shall reach the other side.\""
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"value": "The path of faith was a crooked one, Brienne could not help but note. Though the island seemed to rise to the northeast of where they left the shore, Septon Meribald did not make directly for it. Instead, he started due east, toward the deeper waters of the bay, which shimmered blue and silver in the distance. The soft brown mud squished up between his toes. Ashe walked he paused from time to time, to probe ahead with his quarterstaff. Dog stayed near his heels, sniffing at every rock, shell, and clump of seaweed. For once he did not bound ahead or stray.\n\nBrienne followed, taking care to keep close to the line of prints left by the dog, the donkey, and the holy man. Then came Podrick, and last of all Ser Hyle. A hundred yards out, Meribald turned abruptly toward the south, so his back was almost to the septry. He proceeded in that direction for another hundred yards, leading them between two shallow tidal pools. Dog stuck his nose in one and yelped when a crab pinched it with his claw. A brief but furious struggle ensued before the dog came trotting back, wet and mud-spattered, with the crab between his jaws.\n\n\"Isn't that where we want to go?\" Ser Hyle called out from behind them, pointing at the septry. \"We seem to be walking every way but toward it.\"\n\n\"Faith,\" urged Septon Meribald. \"Believe, persist, and follow, and we shall find the peace we seek.\"\n\nThe flats shimmered wetly all about them, mottled in half a hundred hues. The mud was such a dark brown it appeared almost black, but there were swathes of golden sand as well, upthrust rocks both grey and red, and tangles of black and green seaweed. Storks stalked through the tidal pools and left their footprints all around them, and crabs scuttled across the surface of shallow waters. The air smelled of brine and rot, and the ground sucked at their feet and let them go only reluctantly, with a pop and a squelchy sigh. Septon Meribald turned and turned again and yet again. His footprints filled up with water as soon as he moved on. By the time the ground grew firmer and began to rise beneath the feet, they had walked at least a mile and a half."
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"value": "Three men were waiting for them as they clambered up the broken stones that ringed the isle's shoreline. They were clad in the brown-and-dun robes of brothers, with wide bell sleeves and pointed cowls. Two had wound lengths of wool about the lower halves of their faces as well, so all that could be seen of them were their eyes. The third brother was the one to speak. \"Septon Meribald,\" he called. \"It has been nigh upon a year. You are welcome. Your companions as well.\"\n\nDog wagged his tail, and Meribald shook mud from his feet. \"Might we beg your hospitality fora night?\"\n\n\"Yes, of course. There's to be fish stew this evening. Will you require the ferry in the morning?\"\n\n\"If it is not too much to ask.\" Meribald turned to his fellow travelers. \"Brother Narbert is a proctor of the order, so he is allowed to speak one day of every seven. Brother, these good folk helped me on my way. Ser Hyle Hunt is a gallant from the Reach. The lad is Podrick Payne, late of the westerland. And this is Lady Brienne, known as the Maid of Tarth.\"\n\nBrother Narbert drew up short. \"A woman.\"\n\n\"Yes, brother.\" Brienne unpinned her hair and shook it out. \"Do you have no women here?\"\n\n\"Not at present,\" said Narbert. \"Those women who do visit come to us sick or hurt, or heavy with child. The Seven have blessed our Elder Brother with healing hands. He has restored many a man to health that even the maesters could not cure, and many a woman too.\"\n\n\"I am not sick or hurt or heavy with child.\""
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"value": "\"Lady Brienne is a warrior maid,\" confided Septon Meribald, \"hunting for the Hound.\"\n\n\"Aye?\" Narbert seemed taken aback. \"To what end?\"\n\nBrienne touched Oathkeeper's hilt. \"His,\" she said.\n\nThe proctor studied her. \"You are... brawny fora woman, it is true, but... mayhaps I should take you up to Elder Brother. He will have seen you crossing the mud. Come.\"\n\nNarbert led them along a pebbled path and through a grove of apple trees to a whitewashed stable with a peaked thatch roof. \"You may leave your animals here. Brother Gillam will see that they are fed and watered.\"\n\nThe stable was more than three-quarters empty. Atone end were half a dozen mules, being tended by a bandy-legged little brother whom Brienne took for Gillam. Way down at the far end, well away from the other animals, a huge black stallion trumpeted at the sound of their voices and kicked at the door of his stall.\n\nSer Hyle gave the big horse an admiring look as he was handing his reins to Brother Gillam. \"A handsome beast.\"\n\nBrother Narbert sighed. \"The Seven send us blessings, and the Seven send us trials. Handsome he maybe, but Driftwood was surely whelped in hell. When we sought to harness him to a plow he kicked Brother Rawney and broke his shinbone in two places. We had hoped gelding might improve the beast's ill temper, but... Brother Gillam, will you show them?\"\n\nBrother Gillam lowered his cowl. Underneath he had a mop of blond hair, a tonsured scalp, and a bloodstained bandage where he should have had an ear."
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"value": "Podrick gasped. \"The horse bit off your ear?\"\n\nGillam nodded, and covered his head again.\n\n\"Forgive me, brother,\" said Ser Hyle, \"but I might take the other ear, if you approached me with a pair of shears.\"\n\nThe jest did not sit well with Brother Narbert. \"You area knight, ser. Driftwood is a beast of burden. The Smith gave men horses to help them in their labors.\" He turned away. \"If you will. Elder Brother will no doubt be waiting.\"\n\nThe slope was steeper than it had looked from across the mudflats. To ease it, the brothers had erected a flight of wooden steps that wandered back and forth across the hillside and amongst the buildings. After along day in the saddle Brienne was glad fora chance to stretch her legs.\n\nThey passed a dozen brothers of the order on their way up; cowled men in dun-and-brown who gave them curious looks as they went by, but spoke no word of greeting. One was leading a pair of milk cows toward a low barn roofed in sod; another worked a butter churn. On the upper slopes they saw three boys driving sheep, and higher still they passed a lichyard where a brother bigger than Brienne was struggling to dig a grave. From the way he moved, it was plain to see that he was lame. Ashe flung a spadeful of the stony soil over one shoulder, some chanced to spatter against their feet. \"Be more watchful there,\" chided Brother Narbert. \"Septon Meribald might have gotten a mouthful of dirt.\" The gravedigger lowered his head. When Dog went to sniff him he dropped his spade and scratched his ear.\n\n\"A novice,\" explained Narbert."
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"value": "\"Who is the grave for?\" asked Ser Hyle, as they resumed their climb up the wooden steps.\n\n\"Brother Clement, may the Father judge him justly.\"\n\n\"Was he old?\" asked Podrick Payne.\n\n\"If you consider eight-and-forty old, aye, but it was not the years that killed him. He died of wounds he got at Saltpans. He had taken some of our mead to the market there, on the day the outlaws descended on the town.\"\n\n\"The Hound?\" said Brienne.\n\n\"Another, just as brutal. He cut poor Clement's tongue out when he would not speak. Since he had taken avow of silence, the raider said he had no need of it. The Elder Brother will know more. He keeps the worst of the tidings from outside to himself, so as not to disturb the tranquillity of the septry. Many of our brothers came hereto escape the horrors of the world, not to dwell upon them. Brother Clement was not the only wounded man amongst us. Some wounds do not show.\" Brother Narbert gestured to their right. \"There lies our summer arbor. The grapes are small and tart, but make a drinkable wine. We brew our own ale as well, and our mead and cider are far famed.\"\n\n\"The war has never come here?\" Brienne said.\n\n\"Not this war, praise the Seven. Our prayers protect us.\"\n\n\"And your tides,\" suggested Meribald. Dog barked agreement.\n\nThe brow of the hill was crowned by a low wall of unmortared stone, encircling a cluster of large buildings; the windmill, its sails creaking as they turned, the cloisters where the brothers slept and the common hall where they took their meals, a wooden sept for prayer and meditation. The sept had windows of leaded glass, wide doors carved with likenesses of the Mother and the Father, and a seven-sided steeple with a walk on top. Behind it was a vegetable garden where some older brothers were pulling weeds. Brother Narbert led the visitors around a chestnut tree to a wooden door set in the side of the hill."
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"value": "\"A cave with a door?\" Ser Hyle said, surprised.\n\nSepton Meribald smiled. \"It is called the Hermit's Hole. The first holy man to find his way here lived therein, and worked such wonders that others came to join him. That was two thousand years ago, they say. The door came somewhat later.\"\n\nPerhaps two thousand years ago the Hermit's Hole had been a damp, dark place, floored with dirt and echoing to the sounds of dripping water, but no longer. The cave that Brienne and her companions entered had been turned into a warm, snug sanctum. Woolen carpets covered the ground, tapestries the walls. Tall beeswax candles gave more than ample light. The furnishings were strange but simple; along table, a settle, a chest, several tall cases full of books, and chairs. All were made from driftwood, oddly shaped pieces cunningly joined together and polished till they shone a deep gold in the candlelight.\n\nThe Elder Brother was not what Brienne had expected. He could hardly be called elder, fora start; whereas the brothers weeding in the garden had had the stooped shoulders and bent backs of old men, he stood straight and tall, and moved with the vigor of a man in the prime of his years. Nor did he have the gentle, kindly face she expected of a healer. His head was large and square, his eyes shrewd, his nose veined and red. Though he wore a tonsure, his scalp was as stubbly as his heavy jaw.\n\nHe looks more like a man made to break bones than to heal one, thought the Maid of Tarth, as the Elder Brother strode across the room to embrace Septon Meribald and pat Dog. \"It is always a glad day when our friends Meribald and Dog honor us with another visit,\" he announced, before turning to his other guests. \"And new faces are always welcome. We see so few of them.\""
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"value": "Meribald performed the customary courtesies before seating himself upon the settle. Unlike Septon Narbert, the Elder Brother did not seem dismayed by Brienne's sex, but his smile did flicker and fade when the septon told him why she and Ser Hyle had come. \"I see,\" was all he said, before he turned away with, \"You must be thirsty. Please, have some of our sweet cider to wash the dust of travel from your throats.\" He poured for them himself. The cups were carved from driftwood too, no two the same. When Brienne complimented them, he said, \"My lady is too kind. All we do is cut and polish the wood. We are blessed here. Where the river meets the bay, the currents and the tides wrestle one against the other, and many strange and wondrous things are pushed toward us, to wash upon our shores. Driftwood is the least of it. We have found silver cups andiron pots, sacks of wool and bolts of silk, rusted helms and shining swords... aye, and rubies.\"\n\nThat interested Ser Hyle. \"Rhaegar's rubies?\"\n\n\"It maybe. Who can say? The battle was long leagues from here, but the river is tireless and patient. Six have been found. We are all waiting for the seventh.\"\n\n\"Better rubies than bones.\" Septon Meribald was rubbing his foot, the mud flaking off beneath his finger. \"Not all the river's gifts are pleasant. The good brothers collect the dead as well. Drowned cows, drowned deer, dead pigs swollen up to half the size of horses. Aye, and corpses.\"\n\n\"Too many corpses, these days.\" The Elder Brother sighed. \"Our gravedigger knows no rest. Rivermen, westermen, northmen, all wash up here. Knights and knaves alike. We bury them side by side, Stark and Lannister, Blackwood and Bracken, Frey and Darry. That is the duty the river asks of us in return for all its gifts, and we do it as best we can. Sometimes we find a woman, though... or worse, a little child. Those are the cruelest gifts.\" He turned to Septon Meribald. \"I hope that you have time to absolve us of our sins. Since the raiders slew old Septon Bennet, we have had no one to hear confession.\""
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"value": "\"I shall make time,\" said Meribald, \"though I hope you have some better sins than the last time I came through.\" Dog barked. \"You see? Even Dog was bored.\"\n\nPodrick Payne was puzzled. \"I thought no one could talk. Well, not no one. The brothers. The other brothers, not you.\"\n\n\"We are allowed to break silence when confessing,\" said the Elder Brother. \"It is hard to speak of sin with signs and nods.\"\n\n\"Did they burn the sept at Saltpans?\" asked Hyle Hunt.\n\nThe smile vanished. \"They burned everything at Saltpans, save the castle. Only that was made of stone... though it had as well been made of suet for all the good it did the town. It fell tome to treat some of the survivors. The fisherfolk brought them across the bay tome after the flames had gone out and they deemed it safe to land. One poor woman had been raped a dozen times, and her breasts... my lady, you wear man's mail, so I shall not spare you these horrors... her breasts had been torn and chewed and eaten, as if by some... cruel beast. I did what I could for her, though that was little enough. As she lay dying, her worst curses were not for the men who had raped her, nor the monster who devoured her living flesh, but for Ser Quincy Cox, who barred his gates when the outlaws entered the town and sat safe behind stonewalls as his people screamed and died.\"\n\n\"Ser Quincy is an old man,\" said Septon Meribald gently. \"His sons and good-sons are faraway or dead, his grandsons are still boys, and he has two daughters. What could he have done, one man against so many?\"\n\nHe could have tried, Brienne thought. He could have died. Old or young, a true knight is sworn to protect those who are weaker than himself, or die in the attempt."
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"value": "\"True words, and wise,\" the Elder Brother said to Septon Meribald. \"When you cross to Saltpans, no doubt Ser Quincy will ask you for forgiveness. I am glad that you are hereto give it. I could not.\" He put aside the driftwood cup, and stood. \"The supper bell will sound soon. My friends, will you come with me to the sept, to pray for the souls of the good folk of Saltpans before we sit down to break bread and share some meat and mead?\"\n\n\"Gladly,\" said Meribald. Dog barked.\n\nTheir supper in the septry was as strange a meal as Brienne had ever eaten, though not at all unpleasant. The food was plain, but very good; there were loaves of crusty bread still warm from the ovens, crocks of fresh-churned butter, honey from the septry's hives, and a thick stew of crabs, mussels, and at least three different kinds offish. Septon Meribald and Ser Hyle drank the mead the brothers made, and pronounced it excellent, whilst she and Podrick contented themselves with more sweet cider. Nor was the meal a somber one. Meribald pronounced a prayer before the food was served, and whilst the brothers ate at four long trestle tables, one of their number played for them on the high harp, filling the hall with soft sweet sounds. When the Elder Brother excused the musician to take his own meal, Brother Narbert and another proctor took turns reading from The Seven-Pointed Star.\n\nBy the time the readings were completed, the last of the food had been cleared away by the novices whose task it was to serve. Most were boys near Podrick's age, or younger, but there were grown men as well, amongst them the big gravedigger they had encountered on the hill, who walked with the awkward lurching gait of one half-crippled. As the hall emptied, the Elder Brother asked Narbert to show Podrick and Ser Hyle to their pallets in the cloisters. \"You will not mind sharing a cell, I hope? It is not large, but you will find it comfortable.\""
},
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"value": "\"I want to stay with ser,\" said Podrick."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I mean, my lady.\"\n\n\"What you and Lady Brienne may do elsewhere is between you and the Seven,\" said Brother Narbert, \"but on the Quiet Isle, men and women do not sleep beneath the same roof unless they are wed.\"\n\n\"We have some modest cottages set aside for the women who visit us, be they noble ladies or common village girls,\" said the Elder Brother. \"They are not oft used, but we keep them clean and dry. Lady Brienne, would you allow me to show you the way?\"\n\n\"Yes, thank you. Podrick, go with Ser Hyle. We are guests of the holy brothers here. Beneath their roof, their rules.\"\n\nThe women's cottages were on the east side of the isle, looking out over abroad expanse of mud and the distant waters of the Bay of Crabs. It was colder here than on the sheltered side, and wilder. The hill was steeper, and the path meandered back and forth through weeds and briars, wind-carved rocks, and twisted, thorny trees that clung tenaciously to the stony hillside. The Elder Brother brought a lantern to light their way down. Atone turn he paused. \"On a clear night you could seethe fires of Saltpans from here. Across the bay, just there.\" He pointed.\n\n\"There's nothing,\" Brienne said.\n\n\"Only the castle remains. Even the fisherfolk are gone, the fortunate few who were out on the water when the raiders came. They watched their houses burn and listened to screams and cries float across the harbor, too fearful to land their boats. When at last they came ashore, it was to bury friends and kin. What is therefor them at Saltpans now but bones and bitter memories? They have moved to Maidenpool or other towns.\" He gestured with the lantern, and they resumed their descent. \"Saltpans was never an important port, but ships did call therefrom time to time. That was what the raiders wanted, a galley or a cog to carry them across the narrow sea. When none was at hand, they took their rage and desperation out upon the townsfolk. I wonder, my lady... what do you hope to find there?\""
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"value": "\"A girl,\" she told him. \"A highborn maid of three-and-ten, with a fair face and auburn hair.\"\n\n\"Sansa Stark.\" The name was softly said. \"You believe this poor child is with the Hound?\"\n\n\"The Dornishman said that she was on her way to Riverrun. Timeon. He was a sellsword, one of the Brave Companions, a killer and a raper and a liar, but I do not think he lied about this. He said that the Hound stole her and carried her away.\"\n\n\"I see.\" The path turned, and there were the cottages ahead of them. The Elder Brother had called them modest. That they were. They looked like beehives made of stone, low and rounded, windowless. \"This one,\" he said, indicating the nearest cottage, the only one with smoke rising from the smokehole in the center of its roof. Brienne had to duck when entering to keep from banging her head against the lintel. Inside she found a dirt floor, a straw pallet, furs and blankets to keep her warm, a basin of water, a flagon of cider, some bread and cheese, a small fire, and two low chairs. The Elder Brother satin one, and put the lantern down. \"May I stay awhile? I feel that we should talk.\"\n\n\"If you wish.\" Brienne undid her swordbelt and hung it from the second chair, then sat cross-legged on the pallet.\n\n\"Your Dornishman did not lie,\" the Elder Brother began, \"but I fear you did not understand him. You are chasing the wrong wolf, my lady. Eddard Stark had two daughters. It was the other one that Sandor Clegane made off with, the younger one.\""
}
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[
{
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"value": "Continue the tale as the writer's plot helper.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 34"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A girl,\" she told him. \"A highborn maid of three-and-ten, with a fair face and auburn hair.\"\n\n\"Sansa Stark.\" The name was softly said. \"You believe this poor child is with the Hound?\"\n\n\"The Dornishman said that she was on her way to Riverrun. Timeon. He was a sellsword, one of the Brave Companions, a killer and a raper and a liar, but I do not think he lied about this. He said that the Hound stole her and carried her away.\"\n\n\"I see.\" The path turned, and there were the cottages ahead of them. The Elder Brother had called them modest. That they were. They looked like beehives made of stone, low and rounded, windowless. \"This one,\" he said, indicating the nearest cottage, the only one with smoke rising from the smokehole in the center of its roof. Brienne had to duck when entering to keep from banging her head against the lintel. Inside she found a dirt floor, a straw pallet, furs and blankets to keep her warm, a basin of water, a flagon of cider, some bread and cheese, a small fire, and two low chairs. The Elder Brother satin one, and put the lantern down. \"May I stay awhile? I feel that we should talk.\"\n\n\"If you wish.\" Brienne undid her swordbelt and hung it from the second chair, then sat cross-legged on the pallet.\n\n\"Your Dornishman did not lie,\" the Elder Brother began, \"but I fear you did not understand him. You are chasing the wrong wolf, my lady. Eddard Stark had two daughters. It was the other one that Sandor Clegane made off with, the younger one.\""
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"value": "\"Arya Stark?\" Brienne stared open-mouthed, astonished. \"You know this? Lady Sansa's sister is alive?\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the Elder Brother. \"Now... I do not know. She may have been amongst the children slain at Saltpans.\"\n\nThe words were a knife in her belly. No, Brienne thought. No, that would be too cruel. \"May have been... meaning that you are not certain...?\"\n\n\"I am certain that the child was with Sandor Clegane at the inn beside the crossroads, the one old Masha Heddle used to keep, before the lions hanged her. I am certain they were on their way to Saltpans. Beyond that... no. I do not know where she is, or even if she lives. There is one thing I do know, however. The man you hunt is dead.\"\n\nThat was another shock. \"How did he die?\"\n\n\"By the sword, as he had lived.\"\n\n\"You know this fora certainty?\"\n\n\"I buried him myself. I can tell you where his grave lies, if you wish. I covered him with stones to keep the carrion eaters from digging up his flesh, and set his helm atop the cairn to mark his final resting place. That was a grievous error. Some other wayfarer found my marker and claimed it for himself. The man who raped and killed at Saltpans was not Sandor Clegane, though he maybe as dangerous. The riverlands are full of such scavengers. I will not call them wolves. Wolves are nobler than that... and so are dogs, I think.\n\n\"I know a little of this man, Sandor Clegane. He was Prince Joffrey's sworn shield for many a year, and even here we would hear tell of his deeds, both good and ill. If even half of what we heard was true, this was a bitter, tormented soul, a sinner who mocked both gods and men. He served, but found no pride in service. He fought, but took no joy in victory. He drank, to drown his pain in a sea of wine. He did not love, nor was he loved himself. It was hate that drove him. Though he committed many sins, he never sought forgiveness. Where other men dream of love, or wealth, or glory, this man Sandor Clegane dreamed of slaying his own brother, a sin so terrible it makes me shudder just to speak of it. Yet that was the bread that nourished him, the fuel that kept his fires burning. Ignoble as it was, the hope of seeing his brother's blood upon his blade was all this sad and angry creature lived for... and even that was taken from him, when Prince Oberyn of Dorne stabbed Ser Gregor with a poisoned spear.\""
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{
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"value": "\"You sound as if you pity him,\" said Brienne.\n\n\"I did. You would have pitied him as well, if you had seen him at the end. I came upon him by the Trident, drawn by his cries of pain. He begged me for the gift of mercy, but I am sworn not to kill again. Instead, I bathed his fevered brow with river water, and gave him wine to drink and a poultice for his wound, but my efforts were too little and too late. The Hound died there, in my arms. You may have seen a big black stallion in our stables. That was his warhorse, Stranger. A blasphemous name. We prefer to call him Driftwood, as he was found beside the river. I fear he has his former master's nature.\"\n\nThe horse. She had seen the stallion, had heard it kicking, but she had not understood. Destriers were trained to kick and bite. In war they were a weapon, like the men who rode them. Like the Hound. \"It is true, then,\" she said dully. \"Sandor Clegane is dead.\"\n\n\"He is at rest.\" The Elder Brother paused. \"You are young, child. I have counted four-and-forty name days... which makes me more than twice your age, I think. Would it surprise you to learn that I was once a knight?\"\n\n\"No. You look more like a knight than you do a holy man.\" It was written in his chest and shoulders, and across that thick square jaw. \"Why would you give up knighthood?\"\n\n\"I never chose it. My father was a knight, and his before him. So were my brothers, everyone. I was trained for battle since the day they deemed me old enough to hold a wooden sword. I saw my share of them, and did not disgrace myself. I had women too, and there I did disgrace myself, for some I took by force. There was a girl I wished to marry, the younger daughter of a petty lord, but I was my father's thirdborn son and had neither land nor wealth to offer her... only a sword, a horse, a shield. All in all, I was a sad man. When I was not fighting, I was drunk. My life was writ in red, in blood and wine.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"When did it change?\" asked Brienne.\n\n\"When I died in the Battle of the Trident. I fought for Prince Rhaegar, though he never knew my name. I could not tell you why, save that the lord I served served a lord who served a lord who had decided to support the dragon rather than the stag. Had he decided elsewise, I might have been on the other side of the river. The battle was a bloody thing. The singers would have us believe it was all Rhaegar and Robert struggling in the stream fora woman both of them claimed to love, but I assure you, other men were fighting too, and I was one. I took an arrow through the thigh and another through the foot, and my horse was killed from under me, yet I fought on. I can still remember how desperate I was to find another horse, for I had no coin to buy one, and without a horse I would no longer be a knight. That was all that I was thinking of, if truth be told. I never saw the blow that felled me. I heard hooves behind my back and thought, a horse! but before I could turn something slammed into my head and knocked me back into the river, whereby rights I should have drowned.\n\n\"Instead I woke here, upon the Quiet Isle. The Elder Brother told me I had washed upon the tide, naked as my name day. I can only think that someone found me in the shallows, stripped me of my armor, boots, and breeches, and pushed me back out into the deeper water. The river did the rest. We are all born naked, so I suppose it was only fitting that I come into my second life the same way. I spent the next ten years in silence.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Brienne did not know why he was telling her all of this, or what else she ought to say."
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"value": "\"Do you?\" He leaned forward, his big hands on his knees. \"If so, give up this quest of yours. The Hound is dead, and in any case he never had your Sansa Stark. As for this beast who wears his helm, he will be found and hanged. The wars are ending, and these outlaws cannot survive the peace. Randyll Tarly is hunting them from Maidenpool and Walder Frey from the Twins, and there is anew young lord in Darry, a pious man who will surely set his lands to rights. Go home, child. You have a home, which is more than many can say in these dark days. You have a noble father who must surely love you. Consider his grief if you should never return. Perhaps they will bring your sword and shield to him, after you have fallen. Perhaps he will even hang them in his hall and look on them with pride... but if you were to ask him, I know he would tell you that he would sooner have a living daughter than a shattered shield.\"\n\n\"A daughter.\" Brienne's eyes filled with tears. \"He deserves that. A daughter who could sing to him and grace his hall and bear him grandsons. He deserves a son too, a strong and gallant son to bring honor to his name. Galladon drowned when I was four and he was eight, though, and Alysanne and Arianne died still in the cradle. I am the only child the gods let him keep. The freakish one, not fit to be a son or daughter.\" All of it came pouring out of Brienne then, like black blood from a wound; the betrayals and betrothals, Red Ronnet and his rose, Lord Renly dancing with her, the wager for her maidenhead, the bitter tears she shed the night her king wed Margaery Tyrell, the mêlée at Bitterbridge, the rainbow cloak that she had been so proud of, the shadow in the king's pavilion, Renly dying in her arms, Riverrun and Lady Catelyn, the voyage down the Trident, dueling Jaime in the woods, the Bloody Mummers, Jaime crying'Sapphires,\" Jaime in the tub at Harrenhal with steam rising from his body, the taste of Vargo Hoat's blood when she bit down on his ear, the bear pit, Jaime leaping down onto the sand, the long ride to King's Landing, Sansa Stark, the vow she'd sworn to Jaime, the vow she'd sworn to Lady Catelyn, Oathkeeper, Duskendale, Maidenpool, Nimble Dick and Crackclaw and the Whispers, the men she'd killed..."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have to find her,\" she finished. \"There are others looking, all wanting to capture her and sell her to the queen. I have to find her first. I promised Jaime. Oathkeeper, he named the sword. I have to try to save her... or die in the attempt.\""
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"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "CERSEI\n\nA thousand ships!\"The little queen's brown hair was tousled and uncombed, and the torchlight made her cheeks look flushed, as if she had just come from some man's embrace.\" Your Grace, this must be answered fiercely! \" Her last word rang off the rafters and echoed through the cavernous throne room.\n\nSeated on her gold-and-crimson high seat beneath the Iron Throne, Cersei could feel a growing tightness in her neck. Must, she thought. She dares say'must\" tome. She itched to slap the Tyrell girl across the face. She should be on her knees, begging for my help. Instead, she presumes to tell her rightful queen what she must do.\n\n\"A thousand ships?\" Ser Harys Swyft was wheezing. \"Surely not. No lord commands a thousand ships.\"\n\n\"Some frightened fool has counted double,\" agreed Orton Merryweather. \"That, or Lord Tyrell's bannermen are lying to us, puffing up the numbers of the foe so we will not think them lax.\"\n\nThe torches on the back wall threw the long, barbed shadow of the Iron Throne halfway to the doors. The far end of the hall was lost in darkness, and Cersei could not but feel that the shadows were closing around her too. My enemies are everywhere, and my friends are useless. She had only to glance at her councillors to know that; only Lord Qyburn and Aurane Waters seemed awake. The others had been roused from bed by Margaery's messengers pounding on their doors, and stood there rumpled and confused. Outside the night was black and still. The castle and the city slept. Boros Blount and Meryn Trant seemed to be sleeping too, albeit on their feet. Even Osmund Kettleblack was yawning. Not Loras, though. Not our Knight of Flowers. He stood behind his little sister, a pale shadow with a longsword on his hip."
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"value": "\"Half as many ships would still be five hundred, my lord,\" Waters pointed out to Orton Merryweather. \"Only the Arbor has enough strength at sea to oppose a fleet that size.\"\n\n\"What of your new dromonds?\" asked Ser Harys. \"The longships of the ironmen cannot stand before our dromonds, surely? King Robert's Hammer is the mightiest warship in all Westeros.\"\n\n\"She was,\" said Waters. \"Sweet Cersei will be her equal, once complete, and Lord Tywin will be twice the size of either. Only half are fitted out, however, and none is fully crewed. Even when they are, the numbers would be greatly against us. The common longship is small compared to our galleys, this is true, but the ironmen have larger ships as well. Lord Balon's Great Kraken and the warships of the Iron Fleet were made for battle, not for raids. They are the equal of our lesser war galleys in speed and strength, and most are better crewed and captained. The ironmen live their whole lives at sea.\"\n\nRobert should have scoured the isles after Balon Greyjoy rose against him, Cersei thought. He smashed their fleet, burned their towns, and broke their castles, but when he had them on their knees he let them up again. He should have made another island of their skulls. That was what her father would have done, but Robert never had the stomach that a king requires if he hopes to keep peace in the realm. \"The ironmen have not dared raid the Reach since Dagon Greyjoy sat the Seastone Chair,\" she said. \"Why would they do so now? What has emboldened them?\"\n\n\"Their new king.\" Qyburn stood with his hands hidden up his sleeves. \"Lord Balon's brother. The Crow's Eye, he is called.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Carrion crows make their feasts upon the carcasses of the dead and dying,\" said Grand Maester Pycelle."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They do not descend upon hale and healthy animals. Lord Euron will gorge himself on gold and plunder, aye, but as soon as we move against him he will back to Pyke, as Lord Dagon was wont to do in his day.\"\n\n\"You are wrong,\" said Margaery Tyrell. \"Reavers do not come in such strength. A thousand ships! Lord Hewett and Lord Chester are slain, as well as Lord Serry's son and heir. Serry has fled to Highgarden with what few ships remain him, and Lord Grimm is a prisoner in his own castle. Willas says that the iron king has raised up four lords of his own in their places.\"\n\nWillas, Cersei thought, the cripple. He is to blame for this. That oaf Mace Tyrell left the defense of the Reach in the hands of a hapless weakling. \"It is along voyage from the Iron Isles to the Shields,\" she pointed out. \"How could a thousand ships come all that way without being seen?\"\n\n\"Willas believes that they did not follow the coast,\" said Margaery. \"They made the voyage out of sight of land, sailing far out into the Sunset Sea and swooping back in from the west.\"\n\nMore like the cripple did not have his watchtowers manned, and now he fears to have us know it. The little queen is making excuses for her brother. Cersei's mouth was dry. I need a cup of Arbor gold. If the ironmen decided to take the Arbor next, the whole realm might soon be going thirsty. \"Stannis may have had a hand in this. Balon Greyjoy offered my lord father an alliance. Perhaps his son has offered one to Stannis.\"\n\nPycelle frowned. \"What would Lord Stannis gain by...\""
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"value": "\"He gains another foothold. And plunder, that as well. Stannis needs gold to pay his sellswords. By raiding in the west, he hopes he can distract us from Dragonstone and Storm's End.\"\n\nLord Merryweather nodded. \"A diversion. Stannis is more cunning than we knew. Your Grace is clever to have seen through his ploy.\"\n\n\"Lord Stannis is striving to win the northmen to his cause,\" said Pycelle. \"If he befriends the ironborn, he cannot hope...\"\n\n\"The northmen will not have him,\" said Cersei, wondering how such a learned man could be so stupid. \"Lord Manderly hacked the head and hands off the onion knight, we have that from the Freys, and half a dozen other northern lords have rallied to Lord Bolton. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Where else can Stannis turn, but to the ironmen and the wildlings, the enemies of the north? But if he thinks that I am going to walk into his trap, he is a bigger fool than you.\" She turned back to the little queen. \"The Shield Islands belong to the Reach. Grimm and Serry and the rest are sworn to Highgarden. It is for Highgarden to answer this.\"\n\n\"Highgarden shall answer,\" said Margaery Tyrell. \"Willas has sent word to Leyton Hightower in Oldtown, so he can see to his own defenses. Garlan is gathering men to retake the isles. The best part of our power remains with my lord father, though. We must send word to him at Storm's End. At once.\"\n\n\"And lift the siege?\" Cersei did not care for Margaery's presumption. She says'at once\" tome. Does she take me for her handmaid? \"I have no doubt that Lord Stannis would be pleased by that. Have you been listening, my lady? If he can draw our eyes away from Dragonstone and Storm's End to these rocks...\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Rocks?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "gasped Margaery. \"Did Your Grace say rocks?\"\n\nThe Knight of Flowers put a hand upon his sister's shoulder. \"If it please Your Grace, from those rocks the ironmen threaten Oldtown and the Arbor. From strongholds on the Shields, raiders can sail up the Mander into the very heart of the Reach, as they did of old. With enough men they might even threaten Highgarden.\"\n\n\"Truly?\" said the queen, all innocence. \"Why then, your brave brothers had best roust them off those rocks, and quickly.\"\n\n\"How would the queen suggest they accomplish that, without sufficient ships?\" asked Ser Loras. \"Willas and Garlan can raise ten thousand men within a fortnight and twice that in a moon's turn, but they cannot walk on water, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Highgarden sits above the Mander,\" Cersei reminded him. \"You and your vassals command a thousand leagues of coast. Are there no fisherfolk along your shores? Do you have no pleasure barges, no ferries, no river galleys, no skiffs?\"\n\n\"Many and more,\" Ser Loras admitted.\n\n\"Such should be more than sufficient to carry a host across a little stretch of water, I would think.\"\n\n\"And when the longships of the ironborn descend upon our ragtag fleet as it is making its way across this \"little stretch of water,\" what would Your Grace have us do then?\"\n\nDrown, thought Cersei. \"Highgarden has gold as well. You have my leave to hire sellsails from beyond the narrow sea.\"\n\n\"Pirates out of Myr and Lys, you mean?\" Loras said with contempt. \"The scum of the Free Cities?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He is as insolent as his sister."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sad to say, all of us must deal with scum from time to time,\" she said with poisonous sweetness. \"Perhaps you have a better notion?\"\n\n\"Only the Arbor has sufficient galleys to retake the mouth of the Mander from the ironmen and protect my brothers from their longships during their crossing. I beg Your Grace, send word to Dragonstone and command Lord Redwyne to raise his sails at once.\"\n\nAt least he has the sense to beg. Paxter Redwyne owned two hundred warships, and five times as many merchant carracks, wine cogs, trading galleys, and whalers. Redwyne was encamped beneath the walls of Dragonstone, however, and the greater part of his fleet was engaged in ferrying men across Blackwater Bay for the assault on that island stronghold. The remainder prowled Shipbreaker Bay to the south, where only their presence prevented Storm's End from being resupplied by sea.\n\nAurane Waters bristled at Ser Loras's suggestion. \"If Lord Redwyne sails his ships away, how are we to supply our men on Dragonstone? Without the Arbor's galleys, how will we maintain the siege of Storm's End?\"\n\n\"The siege can be resumed later, after-\"\n\nCersei cut him off. \"Storm's End is a hundred times more valuable than the Shields, and Dragonstone... so long as Dragonstone remains in the hands of Stannis Baratheon, it is a knife at my son's throat. We will release Lord Redwyne and his fleet when the castle falls.\" The queen pushed herself to her feet. \"This audience is at an end. Grand Maester Pycelle, a word.\"\n\nThe old man started, as if her voice had woken him from some dream of youth, but before he could answer, Loras Tyrell strode forward, so swiftly that the queen drew back in alarm. She was about to shout for Ser Osmund to defend her when the Knight of Flowers sank to one knee. \"Your Grace, let me take Dragonstone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His sister's hand went to her mouth."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Loras, no.\"\n\nSer Loras ignored her plea. \"It will take half a year or more to starve Dragonstone into submission, as Lord Paxter means to do. Give me the command, Your Grace. The castle will be yours within a fortnight if I have to tear it down with my bare hands.\"\n\nNo one had given Cersei such a lovely gift since Sansa Stark had run to her to divulge Lord Eddard's plans. She was pleased to see that Margaery had gone pale. \"Your courage takes my breath away, Ser Loras,\" Cersei said. \"Lord Waters, are any of the new dromonds fit to put to sea?\"\n\n\"Sweet Cersei is, Your Grace. A swift ship, and as strong as the queen she's named for.\"\n\n\"Splendid. Let Sweet Cersei carry our Knight of Flowers to Dragonstone at once. Ser Loras, the command is yours. Swear tome that you shall not return until Dragonstone is Tommen's.\"\n\n\"I shall, Your Grace.\" He rose.\n\nCersei kissed him on both cheeks. She kissed his sister too, and whispered, \"You have a gallant brother.\" Either Margaery did not have the grace to answer or fear had stolen all her words.\n\nDawn was still several hours away when Cersei slipped out the king's door behind the Iron Throne. Ser Osmund went before her with a torch and Qyburn strolled along beside her. Pycelle had to struggle to keep up. \"If it please Your Grace,\" he puffed, \"young men are overbold, and think only of the glory of battle and never of its dangers. Ser Loras... this plan of his is fraught with peril. To storm the very walls of Dragonstone...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"..."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "is very brave.\"\n\n\"... brave, yes, but...\"\n\n\"I have no doubt that our Knight of Flowers will be the first man to gain the battlements.\" And perhaps the first to fall. The pox-scarred bastard that Stannis had left to hold his castle was no callow tourney champion but a seasoned killer. If the gods were good, he would give Ser Loras the glorious end he seemed to want. Assuming the boy does not drown on the way. There had been another storm last night, a savage one. The rain had comedown in black sheets for hours. And wouldn't that be sad? the queen mused. Drowning is ordinary. Ser Loras lusts for glory as real men lust for women, the least the gods can do is grant him a death worthy of a song.\n\nNo matter what befell the boy on Dragonstone, however, the queen would be the winner. If Loras took the castle, Stannis would suffer a grievous blow, and the Redwyne fleet could sail off to meet the ironmen. If he failed, she would see to it that he had the lion's share of the blame. Nothing tarnishes a hero as much as failure. And if he should come home on his shield, covered in blood and glory, Ser Osney will be thereto console his grieving sister.\n\nThe laugh would not be contained any longer. It burst from Cersei's lips, and echoed down the hall.\n\n\"Your Grace?\" Grand Maester Pycelle blinked, his mouth sagging open. \"Why... why would you laugh?\"\n\n\"Why,\" she had to say, \"elsewise I might weep. My heart is bursting with love for our Ser Loras and his valor.\"\n\nShe left the Grand Maester on the serpentine steps. That one has outlived any usefulness he ever had, the queen decided. All Pycelle ever seemed to do of late was plague her with cautions and objections. He had even objected to the understanding she had reached with the High Septon, gaping at her with dim and rheumy eyes when she commanded him to prepare the necessary papers and babbling about old dead history until Cersei cut him off. \"King Maegor's day is done, and so are his decrees,\" she said firmly. \"This is King Tommen's day, and mine.\" I would have done better to let him perish in the black cells."
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"value": "\"Should Ser Loras fall, Your Grace will need to find another worthy for the Kingsguard,\" Lord Qyburn said as they crossed over the spiked moat that girded Maegor's Holdfast.\n\n\"Someone splendid,\" she agreed. \"Someone so young and swift and strong that Tommen will forget all about Ser Loras. A bit of gallantry would not be amiss, but his head should not be full of foolish notions. Do you know of such a man?\"\n\n\"Alas, no,\" said Qyburn. \"I had another sort of champion in mind. What he lacks in gallantry he will give you tenfold in devotion. He will protect your son, kill your enemies, and keep your secrets, and no living man will be able to withstand him.\"\n\n\"So you say. Words are wind. When the houris ripe, you may produce this paragon of yours and we will see if he is all that you have promised.\"\n\n\"They will sing of him, I swear it.\" Lord Qyburn's eyes crinkled with amusement. \"Might I ask about the armor?\"\n\n\"I have placed your order. The armorer thinks that I am mad. He assures me that no man is strong enough to move and fight in such a weight of plate.\" Cersei gave the chainless maester a warning look. \"Play me fora fool, and you'll die screaming. You are aware of that, I trust?\"\n\n\"Always, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Good. Say no more of this.\"\n\n\"The queen is wise. These walls have ears.\"\n\n\"So they do.\" At night Cersei sometimes heard soft sounds, even in her own apartments. Mice in the walls, she would tell herself, no more than that."
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"value": "A candle was burning by her bedside, but the hearthfire had gone out and there was no other light. The room was cold as well. Cersei undressed and slipped beneath the blankets, leaving her gown to puddle on the floor. Across the bed, Taena stirred. \"Your Grace,\" she murmured softly. \"What houris it?\"\n\n\"The hour of the owl,\" the queen replied.\n\nThough Cersei often slept alone, she had never liked it. Her oldest memories were of sharing abed with Jaime, when they had still been so young that no one could tell the two of them apart. Later, after they were separated, she'd had a string of bedmaids and companions, most of them girls of an age with her, the daughters of her father's household knights and bannermen. None had pleased her, and few lasted very long. Little sneaks, the lot of them. Vapid, weepy creatures, always telling tales and trying to worm their way between me and Jaime. Still, there had been nights deep within the black bowels of the Rock when she had welcomed their warmth beside her. An empty bed was a cold bed.\n\nHere most of all. There were chills in this room, and her wretched royal husband had died beneath this canopy. Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name, may there never be a second. A dim, drunken brute of a man. Let him weep in hell. Taena warmed the bed as well as Robert ever had, and never tried to force Cersei's legs apart. Of late she had shared the queen's bed more often than Lord Merryweather's. Orton did not seem to mind... or if he did, he knew better than to say so.\n\n\"I was concerned when I woke and found you gone,\" murmured Lady Merryweather, sitting up against the pillows, the coverlets tangled about her waist. \"Is aught amiss?\""
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"value": "\"No,\" said Cersei, \"all is well. On the morrow Ser Loras will sail for Dragonstone, to win the castle, loose the Redwyne fleet, and prove his manhood to us all.\" She told the Myrish woman all that had occurred beneath the shifting shadow of the Iron Throne. \"Without her valiant brother, our little queen is next to naked. She has her guards, to be sure, but I have their captain here and thereabout the castle. A garrulous old man with a squirrel on his surcoat. Squirrels run from lions. He does not have it in him to defy the Iron Throne.\"\n\n\"Margaery has other swords about her,\" cautioned Lady Merryweather. \"She has made many friends about the court, and she and her young cousins all have admirers.\"\n\n\"A few suitors do not concern me,\" Cersei said. \"The army at Storm's End, however...\"\n\n\"What do you mean to do, Your Grace?\"\n\n\"Why do you ask?\" The question was a little too pointed for Cersei's taste. \"I do hope you are not thinking of sharing my idle musings with our poor little queen?\"\n\n\"Never. I am not that girl Senelle.\"\n\nCersei did not care to think about Senelle. She repaid my kindness with betrayal. Sansa Stark had done the same. So had Melara Hetherspoon and fat Jeyne Farman when the three of them were girls. I would never have gone into that tent if not for them. I would never have allowed Maggy the Frog to taste my morrows in a drop of blood. \"I would be very sad if you ever betrayed my trust, Taena. I would have no choice but to give you to Lord Qyburn, but I know that I should weep.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will never give you cause to weep, Your Grace. If I do, say the word, and I will give myself to Qyburn. I wantonly to be close to you. To serve you, however you require.\"\n\n\"And for this service, what reward will you expect?\"\n\n\"Nothing. It pleases me to please you.\" Taena rolled onto her side, her olive skin shining in the candlelight. Her breasts were larger than the queen's and tipped with huge nipples, black as horn. She is younger than I am. Her breasts have not begun to sag. Cersei wondered what it would feel like to kiss another woman. Not lightly on the cheek, as was common courtesy amongst ladies of high birth, but full upon the lips. Taena's lips were very full. She wondered what it would feel like to suckle on those breasts, to lay the Myrish woman on her back and push her legs apart and use her as a man would use her, the way Robert would use her when the drink was in him, and she was unable to bring him off with hand or mouth.\n\nThose had been the worst nights, lying helpless underneath him as he took his pleasure, stinking of wine and grunting like a boar. Usually he rolled off and went to sleep as soon as it was done, and was snoring before his seed could dry upon her thighs. She was always sore afterward, raw between the legs, her breasts painful from the mauling he would give them. The only time he'd ever made her wet was on their wedding night.\n\nRobert had been handsome enough when they first married, tall and strong and powerful, but his hair was black and heavy, thick on his chest and coarse around his sex. The wrong man came back from the Trident, the queen would sometimes think as he was plowing her. In the first few years, when he mounted her more often, she would close her eyes and pretend that he was Rhaegar. She could not pretend that he was Jaime; he was too different, too unfamiliar. Even the smell of him was wrong."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "For Robert, those nights never happened."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Come morning he remembered nothing, or so he would have had her believe. Once, during the first year of their marriage, Cersei had voiced her displeasure the next day. \"You hurt me,\" she complained. He had the grace to look ashamed. \"It was not me, my lady,\" he said in a sulky sullen tone, like a child caught stealing apple cakes from the kitchen. \"It was the wine. I drink too much wine.\" To wash down his admission, he reached for his horn of ale. Ashe raised it to his mouth, she smashed her own horn in his face, so hard she chipped a tooth. Years later at a feast, she heard him telling a serving wench how he'd cracked the tooth in a mêlée. Well, our marriage was a mêlée, she reflected, so he did not lie.\n\nThe rest had all been lies, though. He did remember what he did to her at night, she was convinced of that. She could see it in his eyes. He only pretended to forget; it was easier to do that than to face his shame. Deep down Robert Baratheon was a coward. In time the assaults did grow less frequent. During the first year he took her at least once a fortnight; by the end it was not even once a year. He never stopped completely, though. Sooner or later there would always come a night when he would drink too much and want to claim his rights. What shamed him in the light of day gave him pleasure in the darkness.\n\n\"My queen?\" said Taena Merryweather. \"You have a strange look in your eyes. Are you unwell?\"\n\n\"I was just... remembering.\" Her throat was dry. \"You area good friend, Taena. I have not had a true friend in...\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Someone hammered at the door.\n\nAgain? The urgency of the sound made her shiver. Have another thousand ships descended onus? She slipped into a bedrobe and went to see who it was. \"Beg pardon for disturbing you, Your Grace,\" the guardsman said, \"but Lady Stokeworth is below, begging audience.\"\n\n\"At this hour?\" snapped Cersei. \"Has Falyse lost her wits? Tell her I have retired. Tell her that smallfolk on the Shields are being slaughtered. Tell her that I have been awake for half the night. I will see heron the morrow.\"\n\nThe guard hesitated. \"If it please Your Grace, she's... she's not in a good way, if you take my meaning.\"\n\nCersei frowned. She had assumed Falyse was hereto tell her that Bronn was dead. \"Very well. I shall need to dress. Take her to my solar and have her wait.\" When Lady Merryweather made to rise and come with her, the queen demurred. \"No, stay. One of us should get some rest, at least. I shan't belong.\"\n\nLady Falyse's face was bruised and swollen, her eyes red from her tears. Her lower lip was broken, her clothing soiled and torn. \"Gods be good,\" Cersei said as she ushered her into the solar and closed the door. \"What has happened to your face?\"\n\nFalyse did not seem to hear the question. \"He killed him,\" she said in a quavery voice. \"Mother have mercy, he... he...\" She broke down sobbing, her whole body trembling.\n\nCersei poured a cup of wine and took it to the weeping woman. \"Drink this. The wine will calm you. That's it. A little more now. Stop that weeping and tell me why you're here.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It took the rest of the flagon before the queen was finally able to coax the whole sad tale out of Lady Falyse. Once she had, she did not know whether to laugh or rage. \"Single combat,\" she repeated. Is there no one in the Seven Kingdoms that I can rely upon? Am I the only one in Westeros with a pinch of wits? \"You are telling me Ser Balman challenged Bronn to single combat?\"\n\n\"He said it would be s-s-simple. The lance is a kn-knight's weapon, he said, and B-Bronn was no true knight. Balman said he would unhorse him and finish him as he lay st-st-stunned.\"\n\nBronn was no knight, that was true. Bronn was a battle-hardened killer. Your cretin of a husband wrote his own death warrant. \"A splendid plan. Dare I ask how it went awry?\"\n\n\"B-Bronn drove his lance through the chest of Balman's poor h-h-h-horse. Balman, he... his legs were crushed when the beast fell. He screamed so piteously...\"\n\nSellswords have no pity, Cersei might have said. \"I asked you to arrange a hunting mishap. An arrow gone astray, a fall from a horse, an angry boar... there are so many ways a man can die in the woods. None of them involving lances.\"\n\nFalyse did not seem to hear her. \"When I tried to run to my Balman, he, he, he struck me in the face. He made my lord c-c-confess. Balman was crying out for Maester Frenken to attend him, but the sellsword, he, he, he...\"\n\n\"Confess?\" Cersei did not like that word. \"I trust our brave Ser Balman held his tongue.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bronn put a dagger in his eye, and told me I had best begone from Stokeworth before the sun went down or I'd get the same. He said he'd pass me around to the g-g-garrison, if any of them would have me. When I ordered Bronn seized, one of his knights had the insolence to say that I should do as Lord Stokeworth said. He called him Lord Stokeworth!\" Lady Falyse clutched at the queen's hand. \"Your Grace must give me knights. A hundred knights! And crossbowmen, to take my castle back. Stokeworth is mine! They would not even permit me to gather up my clothes! Bronn said they were his wife's clothes now, all mys-silks and velvets.\"\n\nYour rags are the least of your concern. The queen pulled her fingers free of the other woman's clammy grasp. \"I asked you to snuff out a candle to help protect the king. Instead you heaved a pot of wildfire at it. Did your witless Balman bring my name into this? Tell me he did not.\"\n\nFalyse licked her lips. \"He... he was in pain, his legs were broken. Bronn said he would show him mercy, but... What will happen to my poor m-m-mother?\"\n\nI imagine she will die. \"What do you think?\" Lady Tanda might well be dead already. Bronn did not seem the sort of man who would expend much effort nursing an old woman with a broken hip.\n\n\"You have to help me. Where am Ito go? What will I do?\"\n\nPerhaps you might wed Moon Boy, Cersei almost said. He is nigh as big a fool as your late husband. She could not risk a war on the very doorstep of King's Landing, not now. \"The silent sisters are always glad to welcome widows,\" she said. \"Theirs is a serene life, a life of prayer and contemplation and good works. They bring solace to the living and peace to the dead.\" And they do not talk. She could not have the woman running about the Seven Kingdoms spreading dangerous tales."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Falyse was deaf to good sense. \"All we did, we did in service to Your Grace. Proud to Be Faithful. You said...\"\n\n\"I recall.\" Cersei forced a smile. \"You shall stay herewith us, my lady, until such time as we find away to win your castle back. Let me pour you another cup of wine. It will help you sleep. You are weary and sick of heart, that's plain to see. My poor dear Falyse. That's it, drink up.\"\n\nAs her guest was working on the flagon, Cersei went to the door and called her maids. She told Dorcas to find Lord Qyburn for her and bring him here at once. Jocelyn Swyft she dispatched to the kitchens. \"Bring bread and cheese, a meat pie and some apples. And wine. We have athirst.\"\n\nQyburn arrived before the food. Lady Falyse had put down three more cups by then, and was beginning to nod, though from time to time she would rouse and give another sob. The queen took Qyburn aside and told him of Ser Balman's folly. \"I cannot have Falyse spreading tales about the city. Her grief has made her witless. Do you still need women for your... work?\"\n\n\"I do, Your Grace. The puppeteers are quite used up.\"\n\n\"Take her and do with her as you will, then. But once she goes down into the black cells... need I say more?\"\n\n\"No, Your Grace. I understand.\"\n\n\"Good.\" The queen donned her smile once again. \"Sweet Falyse, Maester Qyburn's here. He'll help you rest.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Falyse vaguely. \"Oh, good.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When the door closed behind them Cersei poured herself another cup of wine. \"I am surrounded by enemies and imbeciles,\" she said. She could not even trust to her own blood and kin, nor Jaime, who had once been her other half. He was meant to be my sword and shield, my strong right arm. Why does he insist on vexing me?\n\nBronn was no more than an annoyance, to be sure. She had never truly believed that he was harboring the Imp. Her twisted little brother was too clever to allow Lollys to name her wretched ill-begotten bastard after him, knowing it was sure to draw the queen's wroth down upon her. Lady Merryweather had pointed that out, and she was right. The mockery was almost certainly the sellsword's doing. She could picture him watching his wrinkled red stepson sucking on one of Lollys's swollen dugs, a cup of wine in his hand and an insolent smile on his face. Grin all you wish, Ser Bronn, you'll be screaming soon enough. Enjoy your lackwit lady and your stolen castle whilst you can. When the time comes, I shall swat you as if you were a fly. Perhaps she would send Loras Tyrell to do the swatting, if the Knight of Flowers should somehow return alive from Dragonstone. That would be delicious. If the gods were good, each of them would kill the other, like Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk. As for Stokeworth... no, she was sick of thinking about Stokeworth.\n\nTaena had drifted back to sleep by the time the queen returned to the bedchamber, her head spinning. Too much wine and too little sleep, she told herself. It was not every night that she was awakened twice with such desperate tidings. At least I could awaken. Robert would have been too drunk to rise, let alone rule. It would have fallen to Jon Arryn to deal with all of this. It pleased her to think that she made a better king than Robert."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The sky outside the window was already beginning to lighten. Cersei sat on the bed beside Lady Merryweather, listening to her soft breathing, watching her breasts rise and fall. Does she dream of Myr? she wondered. Or is it her lover with the scar, the dangerous dark-haired man who would not be refused? She was quite certain Taena was not dreaming of Lord Orton.\n\nCersei cupped the other woman's breast. Softly at first, hardly touching, feeling the warmth of it beneath her palm, the skin as smooth as satin. She gave it a gentle squeeze, then ran her thumbnail lightly across the big dark nipple, back and forth and back and forth until she felt it stiffen. When she glanced up, Taena's eyes were open. \"Does that feelgood?\" she asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Lady Merryweather.\n\n\"And this?\" Cersei pinched the nipple now, pulling on it hard, twisting it between her fingers.\n\nThe Myrish woman gave a gasp of pain. \"You're hurting me.\"\n\n\"It's just the wine. I had a flagon with my supper, and another with the widow Stokeworth. I had to drink to keep her calm.\" She twisted Taena's other nipple too, pulling until the other woman gasped. \"I am the queen. I mean to claim my rights.\"\n\n\"Do what you will.\" Taena's hair was as black as Robert's, even down between her legs, and when Cersei touched her there she found her hair all sopping wet, where Robert's had been coarse and dry. \"Please,\" the Myrish woman said, \"goon, my queen. Do as you will with me. I'm yours.\"\n\nBut it was no good. She could not feel it, whatever Robert felt on the nights he took her. There was no pleasure in it, not for her. For Taena, yes. Her nipples were two black diamonds, her sex slick and steamy. Robert would have loved you, for an hour. The queen slid a finger into that Myrish swamp, then another, moving them in and out, but once he spent himself inside you, he would have been hard-pressed to recall your name."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She wanted to see if it would be as easy with a woman as it had always been with Robert."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ten thousand of your children perished in my palm, Your Grace, she thought, slipping a third finger into Myr. Whilst you snored, I would lick your sons off my face and fingers one by one, all those pale sticky princes. You claimed your rights, my lord, but in the darkness I would eat your heirs. Taena gave a shudder. She gasped some words in a foreign tongue, then shuddered again and arched her back and screamed. She sounds as if she is being gored, the queen thought. Fora moment she let herself imagine that her fingers were a bore's tusks, ripping the Myrish woman apart from groin to throat.\n\nIt was still no good.\n\nIt had never been any good with anyone but Jaime.\n\nWhen she tried to take her hand away, Taena caught it and kissed her fingers. \"Sweet queen, how shall I pleasure you?\" She slid her hand down Cersei's side and touched her sex. \"Tell me what you would have of me, my love.\"\n\n\"Leave me.\" Cersei rolled away and pulled up the bedclothes to cover herself, shivering. Dawn was breaking. It would be morning soon, and all of this would be forgotten.\n\nIt had never happened."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nThe trumpets made a brazen blare, and cut the still blue air of dusk. Josmyn Peckledon was on his feet at once, scrambling for his master's swordbelt.\n\nThe boy has good instincts. \"Outlaws don't blow trumpets to herald their arrival,\" Jaime told him. \"I shan't need my sword. That will be my cousin, the Warden of the West.\"\n\nThe riders were dismounting when he emerged from his tent; half a dozen knights, and twoscore mounted archers and men-at-arms. \"Jaime!\" roared a shaggy man clad in gilded ringmail and a fox-fur cloak. \"So gaunt, and all in white! And bearded too!\"\n\n\"This? Mere stubble, against that mane of yours, coz.\" Ser Daven's bristling beard and bushy mustache grew into sidewhiskers as thick as a hedgerow, and those into the tangled yellow thicket atop his head, matted down by the helm he was removing. Somewhere in the midst of all that hair lurked a pug nose and a pair of lively hazel eyes. \"Did some outlaw steal your razor?\"\n\n\"I vowed I would not let my hair be cut until my father was avenged.\" Fora man who looked so leonine, Daven Lannister sounded oddly sheepish. \"The Young Wolf got to Karstark first, though. Robbed me of my vengeance.\" He handed his helm to a squire and pushed his fingers through his hair where the weight of the steel had crushed it down. \"I like a bit of hair. The nights grow colder, and a little foliage helps to keep your face warm. Aye, and Aunt Genna always said I had a brick fora chin.\" He clasped Jaime by the arms. \"We feared for you after the Whispering Wood. Heard Stark's direwolf tore out your throat.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did you weep bitter tears for me, coz?\"\n\n\"Half of Lannisport was mourning. The female half.\" Ser Daven's gaze went to Jaime's stump. \"So it's true. The bastards took your sword hand.\"\n\n\"I have anew one, made of gold. There's much to be said for being one-handed. I drink less wine for fear of spilling and am seldom inclined to scratch my arse at court.\"\n\n\"Aye, there's that. Maybe I should have mine off as well.\" His cousin laughed. \"Was it Catelyn Stark who took it?\"\n\n\"Vargo Hoat.\" Where do these tales come from?\n\n\"The Qohorik?\" Ser Daven spat. \"That's for him and all his Brave Companions. I told your father I would forage for him, but he refused me. Some tasks are fit for lions, he said, but foraging is best left for goats and dogs.\"\n\nLord Tywin's very words, Jaime knew; he could almost hear his father's voice. \"Come inside, coz. We need to talk.\"\n\nGarrett had lit the braziers, and their glowing coals filled Jaime's tent with a ruddy heat. Ser Daven shrugged out of his cloak and tossed it at Little Lew. \"You a Piper, boy?\" he growled. \"You have a runty look to you.\"\n\n\"I'm Lewys Piper, if it please my lord.\"\n\n\"I beat your brother bloody in a mêlée once. The runty little fool took offense when I asked him if that was his sister dancing naked on his shield.\"\n\n\"She's the sigil of our House. We don't have a sister.\"\n\n\"More's the pity. Your sigil has nice teats. What sort of man hides behind a naked woman, though? Every time I thumped your brother's shield, I felt unchivalrous.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Enough,\" said Jaime, laughing. \"Leave him be.\" Pia was mulling wine for them, stirring the kettle with a spoon. \"I need to know what I can expect to find at Riverrun.\"\n\nHis cousin shrugged. \"The siege drags on. The Blackfish sits inside the castle, we sit outside in our camps. Bloody boring, if you want the truth.\" Ser Daven seated himself upon a camp stool. \"Tully ought to make a sortie, to remind us all we're still at war. Be nice if he culled some Freys too. Ryman, fora start. The man's drunk more oft than not. Oh, and Edwyn. Not as thick as his father, but as full of hate as a boil's full of pus. And our own Ser Emmon... no, Lord Emmon, Seven save us, must not forget his new title... our Lord of Riverrun does nought but try to tell me how to run the siege. He wants me to take the castle without damaging it, since it is now his lordly seat.\"\n\n\"Is that wine hot yet?\" Jaime asked Pia.\n\n\"Yes, m'lord.\" The girl covered her mouth when she spoke. Peck served the wine on a golden platter. Ser Daven pulled off his gloves and took a cup. \"Thank you, boy. Who might you be?\"\n\n\"Josmyn Peckledon, if it please my lord.\"\n\n\"Peck was a hero on the Blackwater,\" Jaime said. \"He slew two knights and captured two more.\"\n\n\"You must be more dangerous than you look, lad. Is that a beard, or did you forget to wash the dirt off your face? Stannis Baratheon's wife has a thicker mustache. How old are you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fifteen, ser.\"\n\nSer Daven snorted. \"You know the best thing about heroes, Jaime? They all die young and leave more women for the rest of us.\" He tossed the cup back to the squire. \"Fill that full again, and I'll call you hero too. I have athirst.\"\n\nJaime lifted his own cup left-handed and took a swallow. The warmth spread through his chest. \"You were speaking of the Freys you wanted dead. Ryman, Edwyn, Emmon...\"\n\n\"And Walder Rivers,\" Daven said, \"that whoreson. Hates that he's a bastard, and hates everyone who's not. Ser Perwyn seems a decent fellow, though, might as well spare him. The women too. I'm to marry one, I hear. Your father might have seen fit to consult with me about this marriage, by the bye. My own father was treating with Paxter Redwyne before Oxcross, did you know? Redwyne has a nicely dowered daughter...\"\n\n\"Desmera?\" Jaime laughed. \"How well do you like freckles?\"\n\n\"If my choice is Freys or freckles, well... half of Lord Walder's brood look like stoats.\"\n\n\"Only half? Be thankful. I saw Lancel's bride at Darry.\"\n\n\"Gatehouse Ami, gods be good. I couldn't believe that Lancel picked that one. What's wrong with that boy?\"\n\n\"He's grown pious,\" said Jaime, \"but it wasn't him who did the picking. Lady Amerei's mother is a Darry. Our uncle thought she'd help Lancel win the Darry smallfolk.\"\n\n\"How, by fucking them? You know why they call her Gatehouse Ami? She raises her portcullis for every knight who happens by. Lancel had best find an armorer to make him a horned helm.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That won't be necessary. Our coz is off to King's Landing to take vows as one of the High Septon's swords.\"\n\nSer Daven could not have looked more astonished if Jaime had told him that Lancel had decided to become a mummer's monkey. \"Not truly? You are japing with me. Gatehouse Ami must be more stoatish than I'd heard if she could drive the boy to that.\"\n\nWhen Jaime had taken his leave of Lady Amerei, she had been weeping softly at the dissolution of her marriage whilst letting Lyle Crakehall console her. Her tears had not troubled him half so much as the hard looks on the faces of her kin as they stood about the yard. \"I hope you do not intend to take vows as well, coz,\" he said to Daven. \"The Freys are prickly where marriage contracts are concerned. I would hate to disappoint them again.\"\n\nSer Daven snorted. \"I'll wed and bed my stoat, never fear. I know what happened to Robb Stark. From what Edwyn tells me, though, I'd best pick one who hasn't flowered yet, or I'm like to find that Black Walder has been there first. I'll wager he's had Gatehouse Ami, and more than thrice. Maybe that explains Lancel's godliness, and his father's mood.\"\n\n\"You have seen Ser Kevan?\"\n\n\"Aye. He passed hereon his way west. I asked him to help us take the castle, but Kevan would have none of it. He brooded the whole time he was here. Courteous enough, but chilly. I swore to him that I never asked to be made Warden of the West, that the honor should have gone to him, and he declared that he held no grudge against me, but you would never have known it from his tone. He stayed three days and hardly said three words tome. Would that he'd remained, I could have used his counsel. Our friends of Frey would not have dared vex Ser Kevan the way that they've been vexing me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell me,\" said Jaime.\n\n\"I would, but whereto begin? Whilst I've been building rams and siege towers, Ryman Frey has raised a gibbet. Everyday at dawn he brings forth Edmure Tully, drapes a noose around his neck, and threatens to hang him unless the castle yields. The Blackfish pays his mummer's show no mind, so come evenfall Lord Edmure is taken down again. His wife's with child, did you know?\"\n\nHe hadn't. \"Edmure bedded her, after the Red Wedding?\"\n\n\"He was bedding her during the Red Wedding. Roslin's a pretty little thing, hardly stoatish at all. And fond of Edmure, queerly. Perwyn tells me she's praying fora girl.\"\n\nJaime considered that a moment. \"Once Edmure's son is born, Lord Walder will have no more need of Edmure.\"\n\n\"That's how I see it too. Our good-uncle Emm... ah, Lord Emmon, that is... he wants Edmure hanged at once. The presence of a Tully Lord of Riverrun distresses him almost as much as the prospective birth of yet another. Daily he beseeches me to make Ser Ryman dangle Tully, never mind how. Meanwhile, I have Lord Gawen Westerling tugging at my other sleeve. The Blackfish has his lady wife inside the castle, along with three of his snot-nosed whelps. His lordship fears Tully will kill them if the Freys hang Edmure. One of them is the Young Wolf's little queen.\"\n\nJaime had met Jeyne Westerling, he thought, though he could not recall what she looked like. She must be fair indeed, to have been worth a kingdom. \"Ser Brynden won't kill children,\" he assured his cousin. \"He's not as black a fish as that.\" He was beginning to grasp why Riverrun had not yet fallen. \"Tell me of your dispositions, coz.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We have the castle well encircled. Ser Ryman and the Freys are north of the Tumblestone. South of Red Fork sits Lord Emmon, with Ser Forley Prester and with what remains of your old host, plus the river lords who came over to us after the Red Wedding. A sullen lot, I don't mind saying. Good for sulking in their tents, but not much more. Mine own camp is between the rivers, facing the moat and Riverrun's main gates. We've thrown a boom across the Red Fork, downstream of the castle. Manfryd Yew and Raynard Ruttiger have charge of its defense, so no one can escape by boat. I gave them nets as well, to fish. It helps keep us fed.\"\n\n\"Can we starve the castle out?\"\n\nSer Daven shook his head. \"The Blackfish expelled all the useless mouths from Riverrun and picked this country clean. He has enough stores to keep man and horse alive for two full years.\"\n\n\"And how well are we provisioned?\"\n\n\"So long as there are fish in the rivers, we won't starve, though I don't know how we're going to feed the horses. The Freys are hauling food and fodder down from the Twins, but Ser Ryman claims he does not have enough to share, so we must forage for ourselves. Half the men I sendoff to look for food do not return. Some are deserting. Others we find ripening under trees, with ropes about their necks.\"\n\n\"We came on some, the day before last,\" said Jaime. Addam Marbrand's scouts had found them, hanging black-faced beneath a crabapple tree. The corpses had been stripped naked, and each man had a crabapple shoved between his teeth. None bore any wounds; plainly, they had yielded. Strongboar had grown furious at that, vowing bloody vengeance on the heads of any men who would truss up warriors to die like suckling pigs."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It might have been outlaws,\" Ser Daven said, when Jaime told the tale, \"or not. There are still bands of northmen about. And these Lords of the Trident may have bent their knees, but methinks their hearts are still... wolfish.\"\n\nJaime glanced at his two younger squires, who were hovering near the braziers pretending not to listen. Lewys Piper and Garrett Paege were both the sons of river lords. He had grown fond of both of them and would hate to have to give them to Ser Ilyn. \"The ropes suggest Dondarrion tome.\"\n\n\"Your lightning lord's not the only man who knows how to tie a noose. Don't get me started on Lord Beric. He's here, he's there, he's everywhere, but when you send men after him, he melts away like dew. The river lords are helping him, never doubt it. A bloody marcher lord, if you can believe it. One day you hear the man is dead, the next they're saying how he can't be killed.\" Ser Daven put his wine cup down. \"My scouts report fires in the high places at night. Signal fires, they think... as if there were a ring of watchers all around us. And there are fires in the villages as well. Some new god...\"\n\nNo, an old one. \"Thoros is with Dondarrion, the fat Myrish priest who used to drink with Robert.\" His golden hand was on the table. Jaime touched it and watched the gold glimmer in the sullen light of the braziers. \"We'll deal with Dondarrion if we have to, but the Blackfish must come first. He has to know his cause is hopeless. Have you tried to treat with him?\"\n\n\"Ser Ryman did. Rode up to the castle gates half-drunk and blustering, making threats. The Blackfish appeared on the ramparts long enough to say that he would not waste fair words on foul men. Then he put an arrow in the rump of Ryman's palfrey. The horse reared, Frey fell into the mud, and I laughed so hard I almost pissed myself. If it had been me inside the castle, I would have put that arrow through Ryman's lying throat.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'll wear a gorget when I treat with them,\" said Jaime, with a half smile."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I mean to offer him generous terms.\" If he could end this siege without bloodshed, then it could not be said that he had taken up arms against House Tully.\n\n\"You are welcome to try, my lord, but I doubt that words will win the day. We need to storm the castle.\"\n\nThere had been a time, not so long ago, when Jaime would doubtless have urged the same course. He knew he could not sit here for two years to starve the Blackfish out. \"Whatever we do needs to be done quickly,\" he told Ser Daven. \"My place is back at King's Landing, with the king.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" his cousin said. \"I don't doubt your sister needs you. Why did she sendoff Kevan? I thought she'd make him Hand.\"\n\n\"He would not take it.\" He was not as blind as I was.\n\n\"Kevan should be the Warden of the West. Or you. It's not that I'm not grateful for the honor, mind you, but our uncle's twice my age and has more experience of command. I hope he knows I never asked for this.\"\n\n\"He knows.\"\n\n\"How is Cersei? As beautiful as ever?\"\n\n\"Radiant.\" Fickle. \"Golden.\" False as fool's gold. Last night he dreamed he'd found her fucking Moon Boy. He'd killed the fool and smashed his sister's teeth to splinters with his golden hand, just as Gregor Clegane had done to poor Pia. In his dreams Jaime always had two hands; one was made of gold, but it worked just like the other. \"The sooner we are done with Riverrun, the sooner I'll be back at Cersei's side.\" What Jaime would do then he did not know."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He talked with his cousin for another hour before the Warden of the West finally took his leave. When he was gone, Jaime donned his gold hand and brown cloak to walk amongst the tents.\n\nIf truth be told, he liked this life. He felt more comfortable amongst soldiers in the field than he ever had at court. And his men seemed comfortable with him as well. Atone cookfire three crossbowmen offered him a share of a hare they'd caught. At another a young knight asked his counsel on the best way to defend against a warhammer. Down beside the river, he watched two washerwomen jousting in the shallows, mounted on the shoulders of a pair of men-at-arms. The girls were half-drunk and half-naked, laughing and snapping rolled-up cloaks atone another as a dozen other men urged them on. Jaime beta copper star on the blond girl riding Raff the Sweetling, and lost it when the two of them went down splashing amongst the reeds.\n\nAcross the river wolves were howling, and the wind was gusting through a stand of willows, making their branches writhe and whisper. Jaime found Ser Ilyn Payne alone outside his tent, honing his greatsword with a whetstone. \"Come,\" he said, and the silent knight rose, smiling thinly. He enjoys this, he realized. It pleases him to humiliate me nightly. It might please him even more to kill me. He liked to believe that he was getting better, but the improvement was slow and not without cost. Underneath his steel and wool and boiled leather Jaime Lannister was a tapestry of cuts and scabs and bruises.\n\nA sentry challenged them as they led their horses from the camp. Jaime clapped the man's shoulder with his golden hand. \"Stay vigilant. There are wolves about.\" They rode back along the Red Fork to the ruins of a burned village they had passed that afternoon. It was there they danced their midnight dance, amongst blackened stones and old cold cinders. Fora little while Jaime had the better of it. Perhaps his old skill was coming back, he allowed himself to think. Perhaps tonight it would be Payne who went to sleep bruised and bloody."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was as if Ser Ilyn heard his thoughts. He parried Jaime's last cut lazily and launched a counterattack that drove Jaime back into the river, where his boot slipped out from under him in the mud. He ended on his knees, with the silent knight's sword at his throat and his own lost in the reeds. In the moonlight the pockmarks on Payne's face were large as craters. He made that clacking sound that might have been a laugh and drew his sword up Jaime's throat till the point came to rest between his lips. Only then did he step back and sheathe his steel.\n\nI would have done better to challenge Raff the Sweetling, with a whore upon my back, Jaime thought as he shook mud off his gilded hand. Part of him wanted to tear the thing off and fling it in the river. It was good for nothing, and the left was not much better. Ser Ilyn had gone back to the horses, leaving him to find his own feet. At least I still have two of those.\n\nThe last day of their journey was cold and gusty. The wind rattled amongst the branches in the bare brown woods and made the river reeds bow low along the Red Fork. Even mantled in the winter wool of the Kingsguard, Jaime could feel the iron teeth of that wind as he rode beside his cousin Daven. It was late afternoon when they sighted Riverrun, rising from the narrow point where the Tumblestone joined the Red Fork. The Tully castle looked like a great stone ship with its prow pointed downriver. Its sandstone walls were drenched in red-gold light, and seemed higher and thicker than Jaime had remembered. This nut will not crack easily, he thought gloomily. If the Blackfish would not listen, he would have no choice but to break the vow he'd made to Catelyn Stark. The vow he'd sworn his king came first."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 36"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was as if Ser Ilyn heard his thoughts. He parried Jaime's last cut lazily and launched a counterattack that drove Jaime back into the river, where his boot slipped out from under him in the mud. He ended on his knees, with the silent knight's sword at his throat and his own lost in the reeds. In the moonlight the pockmarks on Payne's face were large as craters. He made that clacking sound that might have been a laugh and drew his sword up Jaime's throat till the point came to rest between his lips. Only then did he step back and sheathe his steel.\n\nI would have done better to challenge Raff the Sweetling, with a whore upon my back, Jaime thought as he shook mud off his gilded hand. Part of him wanted to tear the thing off and fling it in the river. It was good for nothing, and the left was not much better. Ser Ilyn had gone back to the horses, leaving him to find his own feet. At least I still have two of those.\n\nThe last day of their journey was cold and gusty. The wind rattled amongst the branches in the bare brown woods and made the river reeds bow low along the Red Fork. Even mantled in the winter wool of the Kingsguard, Jaime could feel the iron teeth of that wind as he rode beside his cousin Daven. It was late afternoon when they sighted Riverrun, rising from the narrow point where the Tumblestone joined the Red Fork. The Tully castle looked like a great stone ship with its prow pointed downriver. Its sandstone walls were drenched in red-gold light, and seemed higher and thicker than Jaime had remembered. This nut will not crack easily, he thought gloomily. If the Blackfish would not listen, he would have no choice but to break the vow he'd made to Catelyn Stark. The vow he'd sworn his king came first."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The boom across the river and the three great camps of the besieging army were just as his cousin had described. Ser Ryman Frey's encampment north of the Tumblestone was the largest, and the most disorderly. A great grey gallows loomed above the tents, as tall as any trebuchet. On it stood a solitary figure with a rope about his neck. Edmure Tully. Jaime felt a stab of pity. To keep him standing there day after day, with that noose around his neck... better to have his head off and be done with it.\n\nBehind the gallows, tents and cookfires spread out in ragged disarray. The Frey lordlings and their knights had raised their pavilions comfortably upstream of the latrine trenches; downstream were muddy hovels, wayns, and oxcarts. \"Ser Ryman don't want his boys getting bored, so he gives them whores and cockfights and boar baiting,\" Ser Daven said. \"He's even got himself a bloody singer. Our aunt brought Whitesmile Wat from Lannisport, if you can believe it, so Ryman had to have a singer too. Couldn't we just dam the river and drown the whole lot of them, coz?\"\n\nJaime could see archers moving behind the merlons on the castle ramparts. Above them streamed the banners of House Tully, the silver trout defiant on its striped field of red and blue. But the highest tower flew a different flag; along white standard emblazoned with the direwolf of Stark. \"The first time I saw Riverrun, I was a squire green as summer grass,\" Jaime told his cousin. \"Old Sumner Crakehall sent me to deliver a message, one he swore could not be entrusted to a raven. Lord Hoster kept me fora fortnight whilst mulling his reply, and sat me beside his daughter Lysa at every meal.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Small wonder you took the white. I'd have done the same.\"\n\n\"Oh, Lysa was not so fearsome as all that.\" She had been a pretty girl, in truth; dimpled and delicate, with long auburn hair. Timid, though. Prone to tongue-tied silences and fits of giggles, with none of Cersei's fire. Her older sister had seemed more interesting, though Catelyn was promised to some northern boy, the heir of Winterfell... but at that age, no girl interested Jaime half so much as Hoster's famous brother, who had won renown fighting the Ninepenny Kings upon the Stepstones. At table he had ignored poor Lysa, whilst pressing Brynden Tully for tales of Maelys the Monstrous and the Ebon Prince. Ser Brynden was younger then than I am now, Jaime reflected, and I was younger than Peck.\n\nThe nearest ford across the Red Fork was upstream of the castle. To reach Ser Daven's camp they had to ride through Emmon Frey's, past the pavilions of the river lords who had bent their knees and been accepted back into the king's peace. Jaime noted the banners of Lychester and Vance, of Roote and Goodbrook, the acorns of House Smallford and Lord Piper's dancing maiden, but the banners he did not see gave him pause. The silver eagle of Mallister was nowhere in evidence; nor the red horse of Bracken, the willow of the Rygers, the twining snakes of Paege. Though all had renewed their fealty to the Iron Throne, none had come to join the siege. The Brackens were fighting the Blackwoods, Jaime knew, which accounted for their absence, but as for the rest...\n\nOur new friends are no friends at all. Their loyalty goes no deeper than their skins. Riverrun had to betaken, and soon. The longer the siege dragged on, the more it would hearten other recalcitrants, like Tytos Blackwood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At the ford, Ser Kennos of Kayce blew the Horn of Herrock. That should bring the Blackfish to the battlements. Ser Hugo and Ser Dermot led Jaime's way across the river, splashing through the muddy red-brown waters with the white standard of the Kingsguard and Tommen's stag and lion streaming in the wind. The rest of the column followed hard behind them.\n\nThe Lannister camp rang to the sound of wooden hammers where anew siege tower was rising. Two other towers stood completed, half-covered with raw horsehide. Between them sat a rolling ram; a tree trunk with afire-hardened point suspended on chains beneath a wooden roof. My coz has not been idle, it would seem.\n\n\"My lord,\" Peck asked, \"where do you want your tent?\"\n\n\"There, upon that rise.\" He pointed with his golden hand, though it was not well suited to that task. \"Baggage there, horse lines there. We'll use the latrines my cousin has so kindly dug for us. Ser Addam, inspect our perimeter with an eye for any weaknesses.\" Jaime did not anticipate an attack, but he had not anticipated the Whispering Wood either.\n\n\"Shall I summon the stoats fora war council?\" Daven asked.\n\n\"Not until I've spoken to the Blackfish.\" Jaime beckoned to Beardless Jon Bettley. \"Shakeout a peace banner and bear a message to the castle. Inform Ser Brynden Tully that I would have words with him, at first light on the morrow. I will come to the edge of the moat and meet him on his drawbridge.\"\n\nPeck looked alarmed. \"My lord, the bowmen could...\"\n\n\"They won't.\" Jaime dismounted. \"Raise my tent and plant my standards.\" And we'll see who comes running, and how quickly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It did not require long. Pia was fussing at a brazier, trying to light the coals. Peck went to help her. Of late, Jaime oft went to sleep to the sound of them fucking in a corner of the tent. As Garrett was undoing the clasps on Jaime's greaves, the tent flapped open. \"Here at last, are you?\" boomed his aunt. She filled the door, with her Frey husband peering out from behind her. \"Past time. Have you no hug for your old fat aunt?\" She held out her arms and left him no choice but to embrace her.\n\nGenna Lannister had been a shapely woman in her youth, always threatening to overflow her bodice. Now the only shape she had was square. Her face was broad and smooth, her neck a thick pink pillar, her bosom enormous. She carried enough flesh to make two of her husband. Jaime hugged her dutifully and waited for her to pinch his ear. She had been pinching his ear for as long as he could remember, but today she forbore. Instead, she planted soft and sloppy kisses on his cheeks. \"I am sorry for your loss.\"\n\n\"I had anew handmade, of gold.\" He showed her.\n\n\"Very nice. Will they make you a gold father too?\" Lady Genna's voice was sharp. \"Tywin was the loss I meant.\"\n\n\"A man such as Tywin Lannister comes but once in a thousand years,\" declared her husband. Emmon Frey was a fretful man with nervous hands. He might have weighed ten stone... but only wet, and clad in mail. He was a weed in wool, with no chin to speak of, a flaw that the prominence of the apple in his throat made even more absurd. Half his hair had been gone before he turned thirty. Now he was sixty and only a few white wisps remained."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Some queer tales have been reaching us of late,\" Lady Genna said, after Jaime dismissed Pia and his squires."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A woman hardly knows what to believe. Can it be true that Tyrion slew Tywin? Or is that some calumny your sister put about?\"\n\n\"It's true enough.\" The weight of his golden hand had grown irksome. He fumbled at the straps that secured it to his wrist.\n\n\"Fora son to raise his hand against a father,\" Ser Emmon said. \"Monstrous. These are dark days in Westeros. I fear for us all with Lord Tywin gone.\"\n\n\"You feared for us all when he was here.\" Genna settled her ample rump upon a camp stool, which creaked alarmingly beneath her weight. \"Nephew, speak to us of our son Cleos and the manner of his death.\"\n\nJaime undid the last fastening and set his hand aside. \"We were set upon by outlaws. Ser Cleos scattered them, but it cost his life.\" The lie came easy; he could see that it pleased them.\n\n\"The boy had courage, I always said so. It was in his blood.\" A pinkish froth glistened on Ser Emmon's lips when he spoke, courtesy of the sourleaf he liked to chew.\n\n\"His bones should be interred beneath the Rock, in the Hall of Heroes,\" Lady Genna declared. \"Where was he laid to rest?\"\n\nNowhere. The Bloody Mummers stripped his corpse and left his flesh to feast the carrion crows. \"Beside a stream,\" he lied. \"When this war is done, I will find the place and send him home.\" Bones were bones; these days, nothing was easier to come by.\n\n\"This war...\" Lord Emmon cleared his throat, the apple in his throat moving up and down. \"You will have seen the siege machines. Rams, trebuchets, towers. It will not serve, Jaime. Daven means to break my walls, smash in my gates. He talks of burning pitch, of setting the castle afire. My castle.\" He reached up one sleeve, brought out a parchment, and thrust it at Jaime's face. \"I have the decree. Signed by the king, by Tommen, see, the royal seal, the stag and lion. I am the lawful lord of Riverrun, and I will not have it reduced to a smoking ruin.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, put that fool thing away,\" his wife snapped. \"So long as the Blackfish sits inside Riverrun you can wipe your arse with that paper for all the good it does us.\" Though she had been a Frey for fifty years, Lady Genna remained very much a Lannister. Quite a lot of Lannister. \"Jaime will deliver you the castle.\"\n\n\"To be sure,\" Lord Emmon said. \"Ser Jaime, your lord father's faith in me was well placed, you shall see. I mean to be firm but fair with my new vassals. Blackwood and Bracken, Jason Mallister, Vance and Piper, they shall learn that they have a just overlord in Emmon Frey. My father as well, yes. He is the Lord of the Crossing, but I am the Lord of Riverrun. A son has a duty to obey his father, true, but a bannerman must obey his overlord.\"\n\nOh, gods be good. \"You are not his overlord, ser. Read your parchment. You were granted Riverrun with its lands and incomes, no more. Petyr Baelish is the Lord Paramount of the Trident. Riverrun will be subject to the rule of Harrenhal.\"\n\nThat did not please Lord Emmon. \"Harrenhal is a ruin, haunted and accursed,\" he objected, \"and Baelish... the man is a coin counter, no proper lord, his birth...\"\n\n\"If you are unhappy with the arrangements, go to King's Landing and take it up with my sweet sister.\" Cersei would devour Emmon Frey and pick her teeth with his bones, he did not doubt. That is, if she's not too busy fucking Osmund Kettleblack.\n\nLady Genna gave a snort. \"There is no need to trouble Her Grace with such nonsense. Emm, why don't you step outside and have a breath of air?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A breath of air?\"\n\n\"Ora good long piss, if you prefer. My nephew and I have family matters to discuss.\"\n\nLord Emmon flushed. \"Yes, it is warm inhere. I will wait outside, my lady. Ser.\" His lordship rolled up his parchment, sketched a bow toward Jaime, and tottered from the tent.\n\nIt was hard not to feel contemptuous of Emmon Frey. He had arrived at Casterly Rock in his fourteenth year towed a lioness half his age. Tyrion used to say that Lord Tywin had given him a nervous belly fora wedding gift. Genna has played her part as well. Jaime remembered many a feast where Emmon sat poking at his food sullenly whilst his wife made ribald jests with whatever household knight had been seated to her left, their conversations punctuated by loud bursts of laughter. She gave Frey four sons, to be sure. At least she says they are his. No one in Casterly Rock had the courage to suggest otherwise, least of all Ser Emmon.\n\nNo sooner was he gone than his lady wife rolled her eyes. \"My lord and master. What was your father thinking, to name him Lord of Riverrun?\"\n\n\"I imagine he was thinking of your sons.\"\n\n\"I think of them as well. Emm will make a wretched lord. Ty may do better, if he has the sense to learn from me and not his father.\" She looked about the tent. \"Do you have wine?\"\n\nJaime found a flagon and poured for her, one-handed. \"Why are you here, my lady? You should have remained at Casterly Rock until the fighting's done.\"\n\n\"Once Emm heard he was a lord, he had to come at once to claim his seat.\" Lady Genna took a drink and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. \"Your father should have granted us Darry. Cleos married one of the plowman's daughters, you will recall. His grieving widow is furious that her sons were not granted her lord father's lands. Gatehouse Ami is Darry only on her mother's side. My good-daughter Jeyne is her aunt, a full sister to Lady Mariya.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A younger sister,\" Jaime reminded her, \"and Ty will have Riverrun, a greater prize than Darry.\"\n\n\"A poisoned prize. House Darry is extinguished in the male line, House Tully is not. That muttonhead Ser Ryman puts a noose round Edmure's neck, but will not hang him. And Roslin Frey has a trout growing in her belly. My grandsons will never be secure in Riverrun so long as any Tully heir remains alive.\"\n\nShe was not wrong, Jaime knew. \"If Roslin has a girl-\"\n\n\"-she can wed Ty, provided old Lord Walder will consent. Yes, I've thought of that. A boy is just as likely, though, and his little cock would cloud the issue. And if Ser Brynden should survive this siege, he might be inclined to claim Riverrun in his own name... or in the name of young Robert Arryn.\"\n\nJaime remembered little Robert from King's Landing, still sucking on his mother's teats at four. \"Arryn won't livelong enough to breed. And why should the Lord of the Eyrie need Riverrun?\"\n\n\"Why does a man with one pot of gold need another? Men are greedy. Tywin should have granted Riverrun to Kevan and Darry to Emm. I would have told him so if he had troubled to ask me, but when did your father ever consult with anyone but Kevan?\" She sighed deeply. \"I do not blame Kevan for wanting the safer seat for his own boy, mind you. I know him too well.\"\n\n\"What Kevan wants and what Lancel wants appear to be two different things.\" He told her of Lancel's decision to renounce wife and lands and lordship to fight for the Holy Faith. \"If you still want Darry, write to Cersei and make your case.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lady Genna waved her cup in dismissal."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No, that horse has left the yard. Emm has it in his pointed head that he will rule the riverlands. And Lancel... I suppose we should have seen this coming from afar. A life protecting the High Septon is not so different from a life protecting the king, after all. Kevan will be wroth, I fear. As wroth as Tywin was when you got it in your head to take the white. At least Kevan still has Martyn for an heir. He can marry him to Gatehouse Ami in Lancel's place. Seven save us all.\" His aunt gave a sigh. \"And speaking of the Seven, why would Cersei permit the Faith to arm again?\"\n\nJaime shrugged. \"I am certain she had reasons.\"\n\n\"Reasons?\" Lady Genna made a rude noise. \"They had best be good reasons. The Swords and Stars troubled even the Targaryens. The Conqueror himself tread carefully with the Faith, so they would not oppose him. And when Aegon died and the lords rose up against his sons, both orders were in the thick of that rebellion. The more pious lords supported them, and many of the smallfolk. King Maegor finally had to put a bounty on them. He paid a dragon for the head of any unrepentant Warrior's Son, and a silver stag for the scalp of a Poor Fellow, if I recall my history. Thousands were slain, but nigh as many still roamed the realm, defiant, until the Iron Throne slew Maegor and King Jaehaerys agreed to pardon all those who would set aside their swords.\"\n\n\"I'd forgotten most of that,\" Jaime confessed.\n\n\"You and your sister both.\" She took another swallow of her wine. \"Is it true that Tywin was smiling on his bier?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He was rotting on his bier. It made his mouth twist.\"\n\n\"Was that all it was?\" That seemed to sadden her. \"Men say that Tywin never smiled, but he smiled when hewed your mother, and when Aerys made him Hand. When Tarbeck Hall came crashing down on Lady Ellyn, that scheming bitch, Tyg claimed he smiled then. And he smiled at your birth, Jaime, I saw that with mine own eyes. You and Cersei, pink and perfect, as alike as two peas in a pod... well, except between the legs. What lungs you had!\"\n\n\"Hear us roar.\" Jaime grinned. \"Next you'll be telling me how much he liked to laugh.\"\n\n\"No. Tywin mistrusted laughter. He heard too many people laughing at your grandsire.\" She frowned. \"I promise you, this mummer's farce of a siege would not have amused him. How do you mean to end it, now that you're here?\"\n\n\"Treat with the Blackfish.\"\n\n\"That won't work.\"\n\n\"I mean to offer him good terms.\"\n\n\"Terms require trust. The Freys murdered guests beneath their roof, and you, well... I mean no offense, my love, but you did kill a certain king you had sworn to protect.\"\n\n\"And I'll kill the Blackfish if he does not yield.\" His tone was harsher than he'd intended, but he was in no mood for having Aerys Targaryen thrown in his face.\n\n\"How, with your tongue?\" Her voice was scornful. \"I maybe an old fat woman, but I do not have cheese between my ears, Jaime. Neither does the Blackfish. Empty threats won't daunt him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What would you counsel?\"\n\nShe gave a ponderous shrug. \"Emm wants Edmure's head off. For once, he maybe right. Ser Ryman has made us a laughingstock with that gibbet of his. You need to show Ser Brynden that your threats have teeth.\"\n\n\"Killing Edmure might harden Ser Brynden's resolve.\"\n\n\"Resolve is one thing Brynden Blackfish never lacked for. Hoster Tully could have told you that.\" Lady Genna finished her wine. \"Well, I would never presume to tell you how to fight a war. I know my place... unlike your sister. Is it true that Cersei burned the Red Keep?\"\n\n\"Only the Tower of the Hand.\"\n\nHis aunt rolled her eyes. \"She would have done better to leave the tower and burn her Hand. Harys Swyft? If ever a man deserved his arms, it is Ser Harys. And Gyles Rosby, Seven save us, I thought he died years ago. Merryweather... your father used to call his grandsire \"the Chuckler,\" I'll have you know. Tywin claimed the only thing Merryweather was good for was chuckling at the king's witticisms. His lordship chuckled himself right into exile, as I recall. Cersei has put some bastard on the council too, and a kettle in the Kingsguard. She has the Faith arming and the Braavosi calling in loans allover Westeros. None of which would be happening if she'd had the simple sense to make your uncle the King's Hand.\"\n\n\"Ser Kevan refused the office.\"\n\n\"So he said. He did not say why. There was much he did not say. Would not say.\" Lady Genna made a face. \"Kevan always did what was asked of him. It is not like him to turn away from any duty. Something is awry here, I can smell it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"He said that he was tired.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He knows, Cersei had said, as they stood above their father's corpse. He knows about us.\n\n\"Tired?\" His aunt pursed her lips. \"I suppose he has aright to be. It has been hard for Kevan, living all his life in Tywin's shadow. It was hard for all my brothers. That shadow Tywin cast was long and black, and each of them had to struggle to find a little sun. Tygett tried to be his own man, but he could never match your father, and that just made him angrier as the years went by. Gerion made japes. Better to mock the game than to play and lose. But Kevan saw how things stood early on, so he made himself a place by your father's side.\"\n\n\"And you?\" Jaime asked her.\n\n\"It was not a game for girls. I was my father's precious princess... and Tywin's too, until I disappointed him. My brother never learned to like the taste of disappointment.\" She pushed herself to her feet. \"I've said what I came to say, I shan't take anymore of your time. Do what Tywin would have done.\"\n\n\"Did you love him?\" Jaime heard himself ask.\n\nHis aunt looked at him strangely. \"I was seven when Walder Frey persuaded my lord father to give my hand to Emm. His second son, not even his heir. Father was himself a thirdborn son, and younger children crave the approval of their elders. Frey sensed that weakness in him, and Father agreed for no better reason than to please him. My betrothal was announced at a feast with half the west in attendance. Ellyn Tarbeck laughed and the Red Lion went angry from the hall. The rest sat on their tongues. Only Tywin dared speak against the match. A boy often. Father turned as white as mare's milk, and Walder Frey was quivering.\" She smiled. \"How could I not love him, after that? That is not to say that I approved of all he did, or much enjoyed the company of the man that he became... but every little girl needs a big brother to protect her. Tywin was big even when he was little.\" She gave a sigh. \"Who will protect us now?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jaime kissed her cheek. \"He left a son.\"\n\n\"Aye, he did. That is what I fear the most, in truth.\"\n\nThat was a queer remark. \"Why should you fear?\"\n\n\"Jaime,\" she said, tugging on his ear, \"sweetling, I have known you since you were a babe at Joanna's breast. You smile like Gerion and fight like Tyg, and there's some of Kevan in you, else you would not wear that cloak... but Tyrion is Tywin's son, not you. I said so once to your father's face, and he would not speak tome for half a year. Men are such thundering great fools. Even the sort who come along once in a thousand years.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "CAT OF THE CANALS\n\nShe woke before the sun came up, in the little room beneath the eaves that she shared with Brusco's daughters.\n\nCat was always the first to awaken. It was warm and snug under the blankets with Talea and Brea. She could hear the soft sounds of their breath. When she stirred, sitting up and fumbling for her slippers, Brea muttered a sleepy complaint and rolled over. The chill off the grey stonewalls gave Cat gooseprickles. She dressed quickly in the darkness. As she was slipping her tunic over her head, Talea opened her eyes and called out, \"Cat, be a sweet and bring my clothes for me.\" She was a gawky girl, all skin and bones and elbows, always complaining she was cold.\n\nCat fetched her clothes for her, and Talea squirmed into them underneath the blankets. Together they pulled her big sister from the bed, as Brea muttered sleepy threats.\n\nBy the time the three of them climbed down the ladder from the room beneath the eaves, Brusco and his sons were out in the boat on the little canal behind the house. Brusco barked at the girls to hurry, as he did every morning. His sons helped Talea and Brea onto the boat. It was Cat's task to untie them from the piling, toss the rope to Brea, and shove the boat away from the dock with a booted foot. Brusco's sons leaned into their poles. Cat ran and leapt across the widening gap between dock and deck.\n\nAfter that, she had nothing to do but sit and yawn fora long while as Brusco and his sons pushed them through the predawn gloom, wending down a confusion of small canals. The day looked to be a rare one, crisp and clear and bright. Braavos only had three kinds of weather; fog was bad, rain was worse, and freezing rain was worst. But every so often would come a morning when the dawn broke pink and blue and the air was sharp and salty. Those were the days that Cat loved best."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When they reached the broad straight waterway that was the Long Canal, they turned south for the fishmarket. Cat sat with her legs crossed, fighting a yawn and trying to recall the details of her dream. I dreamed I was a wolf again. She could remember the smells best of all: trees and earth, her pack brothers, the scents of horse and deer and man, each different from the others, and the sharp acrid tang of fear, always the same. Some nights the wolf dreams were so vivid that she could hear her brothers howling even as she woke, and once Brea had claimed that she was growling in her sleep as she thrashed beneath the covers. She thought that was some stupid lie till Talea said it too.\n\nI should not be dreaming wolf dreams, the girl told herself. I am a cat now, not a wolf. I am Cat of the Canals. The wolf dreams belonged to Arya of House Stark. Try as she might, though, she could not rid herself of Arya. It made no difference whether she slept beneath the temple or in the little room beneath the eaves with Brusco's daughters, the wolf dreams still haunted her by night... and sometimes other dreams as well.\n\nThe wolf dreams were the good ones. In the wolf dreams she was swift and strong, running down her prey with her pack at her heels. It was the other dream she hated, the one where she had two feet instead of four. In that one she was always looking for her mother, stumbling through a wasted land of mud and blood and fire. It was always raining in that dream, and she could hear her mother screaming, but a monster with a dog's head would not let her go save her. In that dream she was always weeping, like a frightened little girl. Cats never weep, she told herself, no more than wolves do. It's just a stupid dream."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Long Canal took Brusco's boat beneath the green copper domes of the Palace of Truth and the tall square towers of the Prestayns and Antaryons before passing under the immense grey arches of the sweetwater river to the district known as Silty Town, where the buildings were smaller and less grand. Later in the day the canal would be choked with serpent boats and barges, but in the predawn darkness they had the waterway almost to themselves. Brusco liked to reach the fishmarket just as the Titan roared to herald the coming of the sun. The sound would boom across the lagoon, faint with distance but still loud enough to wake the sleeping city.\n\nBy the time Brusco and his sons tied up by the fishmarket, it was swarming with herring sellers and cod wives, oystermen, clam diggers, stewards, cooks, smallwives, and sailors off the galleys, all haggling loudly with one another as they inspected the morning catch. Brusco would walk from boat to boat, having a look at all the shellfish, and from time to time tapping a cask or crate with his cane. \"This one,\" he would say. \"Yes.\" Tap tap. \"This one.\" Tap tap. \"No, not that. Here.\" Tap. He was not much one for talking. Talea said her father was as grudging with his words as with his coins. Oysters, clams, crabs, mussels, cockles, sometimes prawns... Brusco bought it all, depending on what looked best each day. It was for them to carry the crates and casks that he tapped back to the boat. Brusco had a bad back, and could not lift anything heavier than a tankard of brown ale.\n\nCat always stank of brine and fish by the time they pushed off for home again. She had grown soused to it that she hardly even smelled it anymore. She did not mind the work. When her muscles ached from lifting, or her back got sore from the weight of a cask, she told herself that she was getting stronger."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Once all the casks were loaded, Brusco shoved them off again, and his sons poled them backup the Long Canal. Brea and Talea sat at the front of the boat whispering to one another. Cat knew that they were talking about Brea's boy, the one she climbed upon the roof to meet, after her father was asleep.\n\n\"Learn three new things before you comeback to us,\" the kindly man had commanded Cat, when he sent her forth into the city. She always did. Sometimes it was no more than three new words of the Braavosi tongue. Sometimes she brought back sailor's tales, of strange and wondrous happenings from the wide wet world beyond the isles of Braavos, wars and rains of toads and dragons hatching. Sometimes she learned three new japes or three new riddles, or tricks of this trade or the other. And every so often, she would learn some secret.\n\nBraavos was a city made for secrets, a city of fogs and masks and whispers. Its very existence had been a secret fora century, the girl had learned; its location had been hidden thrice that long. \"The Nine Free Cities are the daughters of Valyria that was,\" the kindly man taught her, \"but Braavos is the bastard child who ran away from home. We area mongrel folk, the sons of slaves and whores and thieves. Our forebears came from half a hundred lands to this place of refuge, to escape the dragonlords who had enslaved them. Half a hundred gods came with them, but there is one god all of them shared in common.\"\n\n\"Him of Many Faces.\"\n\n\"And many names,\" the kindly man had said. \"In Qohor he is the Black Goat, in Yi Tithe Lion of Night, in Westeros the Stranger. All men must bow to him in the end, no matter if they worship the Seven or the Lord of Light, the Moon Mother or the Drowned God or the Great Shepherd. All mankind belongs to him... else somewhere in the world would be a folk who lived forever. Do you know of any folk who live forever?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No,\" she would answer."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"All men must die.\"\n\nCat would always find the kindly man waiting for her when she went creeping back to the temple on the knoll on the night the moon went black. \"What do you know that you did not know when you left us?\" he would always ask her.\n\n\"I know what Blind Beqqo puts in the hot sauce he uses on his oysters,\" she would say. \"I know the mummers at the Blue Lantern are going to do The Lord of the Woeful Countenance and the mummers at the Ship mean to answer with Seven Drunken Oarsmen. I know the bookseller Lotho Lornel sleeps in the house of Tradesman-Captain Moredo Prestayn whenever the honorable tradesman-captain is away on a voyage, and moves out whenever the Vixen comes home.\"\n\n\"It is good to know these things. And who are you?\"\n\n\"No one.\"\n\n\"You lie. You are Cat of the canals, I know you well. Go and sleep, child. On the morrow you must serve.\"\n\n\"All men must serve.\" And so she did, three days of every thirty. When the moon was black she was no one, a servant of the Many-Faced God in a robe of black and white. She walked beside the kindly man through the fragrant darkness, carrying her iron lantern. She washed the dead, went through their clothes, and counted out their coins. Some days she still helped Umma cook, chopping big white mushrooms and boning fish. But only when the moon was black. The rest of the time she was an orphan girl in a pair of battered boots too big for her feet and a brown cloak with a ragged hem, crying'Mussels and cockles and clams\" as she wheeled her barrow through the Ragman's Harbor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The moon would be black tonight, she knew; last night it had been no more than a sliver. \"What do you know that you did not know when you left us?\" the kindly man would ask as soon as he saw her. I know that Brusco's daughter Brea meets a boy on the roof when her father is asleep, she thought. Brea lets him touch her, Talea says, even though he's just a roof rat and all the roof rats are supposed to be thieves. That was only one thing, though. Cat would need two more. She was not concerned. There were always new things to learn, down by the ships.\n\nWhen they returned to the house Cat helped Brusco's sons unload the boat. Brusco and his daughters divided the shellfish amongst three barrows, arranging them on layered beds of seaweed. \"Comeback when all is sold,\" Brusco told the girls, just as he did every morning, and they set forth to cry the catch. Brea would wheel her barrow to the Purple Harbor, to sell to the Braavosi sailors whose ships were anchored there. Talea would try the alleys round the Moon Pool, or sell amongst the temples on the Isle of the Gods. Cat headed for the Ragman's Harbor, as she did nine days of every ten.\n\nOnly Braavosi were permitted use of the Purple Harbor, from the Drowned Town and the Sealord's Palace; ships from her sister cities and the rest of the wide world had to use the Ragman's Harbor, a poorer, rougher, dirtier port than the Purple. It was noisier as well, as sailors and traders from half a hundred lands crowded its wharves and alleys, mingling with those who served and preyed on them. Cat liked it best of anyplace in Braavos. She liked the noise and the strange smells, and seeing what ships had come in on the evening tide and what ships had departed. She liked the sailors too; the boisterous Tyroshi with their booming voices and dyed whiskers; the fair-haired Lyseni, always trying to niggle down her prices; the squat, hairy sailors from the Port of Ibben, growling curses in low, raspy voices. Her favorites were the Summer Islanders, with their skins as smooth and dark as teak. They wore feathered cloaks of red and green and yellow, and the tall masts and white sails of their swan ships were magnificent."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And sometimes there were Westerosi too, oarsmen and sailors off carracks out of Oldtown, trading galleys out of Duskendale, King's Landing, and Gulltown, big-bellied wine cogs from the Arbor. Cat knew the Braavosi words for mussels and cockles and clams, but along the Ragman's Harbor she cried her wares in the trade tongue, the language of the wharves and docks and sailor's taverns, a coarse jumble of words and phrases from a dozen languages, accompanied by hand signs and gestures, most of them insulting. Those were the ones that Cat liked best. Any man who bothered her was apt to seethe fig, or hear himself described as an ass's pizzle or a camel's cunt. \"Maybe I never saw a camel,\" she would tell them, \"but I know a camel's cunt when I smell one.\"\n\nOnce in a great while that would make somebody angry, but when it did she had her finger knife. She kept it very sharp, and knew how to use it too. Red Roggo showed her one afternoon at the Happy Port, while he was waiting for Lanna to come free. He taught her how to hide it up her sleeve and slip it out when she had need of it, and how to slice a purse so smooth and quick the coins would all be spent before their owner ever missed them. That was good to know, even the kindly man agreed; especially at night, when the bravos and roof rats were abroad.\n\nCat had made friends along the wharves; porters and mummers, ropemakers and sailmenders, taverners, brewers and bakers and beggars and whores. They bought clams and cockles from her, told her true tales of Braavos and lies about their lives, and laughed at the way she talked when she tried to speak Braavosi. She never let that trouble her. Instead, she showed them all the fig, and told them they were camel cunts, which made them roar with laughter. Gyloro Dothare taught her filthy songs, and his brother Gyleno told her the best places to catch eels. The mummers off the Ship showed her how a hero stands, and taught her speeches from The Song of the Rhoyne, The Conqueror's Two Wives, and The Merchant's Lusty Lady. Quill, the sad-eyed little man who made up all the bawdy farces for the Ship, offered to teach her how a woman kisses, but Tagganaro smacked him with a codfish and put an end to that. Cossomo the Conjurer instructed her in sleight of hand. He could swallow mice and pull them from her ears. \"It's magic,\" he'd say. \"It's not,\" Cat said. \"The mouse was up your sleeve the whole time. I could see it moving.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oysters, clams, and cockles\" were Cat's magic words, and like all good magic words they could take her almost anywhere. She had boarded ships from Lys and Oldtown and the Port of Ibben and sold her oysters right on deck. Some days she rolled her barrow past the towers of the mighty to offer baked clams to the guardsmen at their gates. Once she cried her catch on the steps of the Palace of Truth, and when another peddler tried to run her off she turned his cart over and sent his oysters skittering across the cobbles. Customs officers from the Chequy Port would buy from her, and paddlers from the Drowned Town, whose sunken domes and towers poked up from the green waters of the lagoon. Onetime, when Brea took to her bed with her moon blood, Cat had pushed her barrow to the Purple Harbor to sell crabs and prawns to oarsmen off the Sealord's pleasure barge, covered stem to stern with laughing faces. Other days she followed the sweetwater river to the Moon Pool. She sold to swaggering bravos in striped satin, and to keyholders and justiciars in drab coats of brown and grey. But she always returned to the Ragman's Harbor.\n\n\"Oysters, clams, and cockles,\" the girl shouted as she pushed her barrow along the wharves. \"Mussels, prawns, and cockles.\" A dirty orange cat came padding after her, drawn by the sound of her call. Farther on, a second cat appeared, a sad, bedraggled grey thing with a stub tail. Cats liked the smell of Cat. Some days she would have a dozen trailing after her before the sun went down. From time to time the girl would throw an oyster at them and watch to see who came away with it. The biggest toms would seldom win, she noticed; oft as not, the prize went to some smaller, quicker animal, thin and mean and hungry. Like me, she told herself. Her favorite was a scrawny old tom with a chewed ear who reminded her of a cat that she'd once chased all around the Red Keep. No, that was some other girl, not me."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Two of the ships that had been here yesterday were gone, Cat saw, but five new ones had docked; a small carrack called the Brazen Monkey, a huge Ibbenese whaler that reeked of tar and blood and whale oil, two battered cogs from Pentos, and a lean green galley up from Old Volantis."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cat stopped at the foot of every gangplank to cry her clams and oysters, once in the trade talk and again in the Common Tongue of Westeros. A crewman on the whaler cursed at her so loudly that he scared away her cats and one of the Pentoshi oarsman asked how much she wanted for the clam between her legs, but she fared better at the other ships. A mate on the green galley wolfed half a dozen oysters and told her how his captain had been killed by the Lysene pirates who had tried to board them near the Stepstones. \"That bastard Saan it was, with Old Mother's Son and his big Valyrian. We got away, but just.\"\n\nThe little Brazen Monkey proved to be from Gulltown, with a Westerosi crew who were glad to talk to someone in the Common Tongue. One asked how a girl from King's Landing came to be selling mussels on the docks of Braavos, so she had to tell her tale. \"We're here four days, and four long nights,\" another told her. \"Where's a man to go to find a bit of sport?\"\n\n\"The mummers at the Ship are doing Seven Drunken Oarsmen,\" Cat told them, \"and there's eel fights in the Spotted Cellar, down by the gates of Drowned Town. Or if you want you can go by the Moon Pool, where the bravos duel at night.\"\n\n\"Aye, that's good,\" another sailor said, \"but what Wat was really wanting was a woman.\"\n\n\"The best whores are at the Happy Port, down by where the mummers'Ship is moored.\" She pointed. Some of the dockside whores were vicious, and sailors fresh from the sea never knew which ones. S'vrone was the worst. Everyone said she had robbed and killed a dozen men, rolling the bodies into the canals to feed the eels. The Drunken Daughter could be sweet when sober, but not with wine in her. And Canker Jeyne was really a man. \"Ask for Merry. Meralyn is her true name, but everyone calls her Merry, and she is.\" Merry bought a dozen oysters every time Cat came by the brothel and shared them with her girls. She had a good heart, everyone agreed. \"That, and the biggest pair of teats in all of Braavos,\" Merry herself was fond of boasting."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Her girls were nice as well; Blushing Bethany and the Sailor's Wife, one-eyed Yna who could tell your fortune from a drop of blood, pretty little Lanna, even Assadora, the Ibbenese woman with the mustache."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They might not be beautiful, but they were kind to her. \"The Happy Port is where all the porters go,\" Cat assured the men of the Brazen Monkey. \"\"The boys unload the ships, \"Merry says,\"and my girls unload the lads who sail them. '\"\n\n\"What about them fancy whores the singers sing about?\" asked the youngest monkey, a red-haired boy with freckles who could not have been much more than six-and-ten. \"Are they as pretty as they say? Where would I get one o' them?\"\n\nHis shipmates looked at him and laughed. \"Seven hells, boy,\" said one of them. \"Might be the captain could get hisself a courty-san, but only if he sold the bloody ship. That sort o'cunt's for lords and such, not for the likes o' us.\"\n\nThe courtesans of Braavos were famed across the world. Singers sang of them, goldsmiths and jewelers showered them with gifts, craftsmen begged for the honor of their custom, merchant princes paid royal ransoms to have them on their arms at balls and feasts and mummer shows, and bravos slew each other in their names. As she pushed her barrow along the canals, Cat would sometimes glimpse one of them floating by, on her way to an evening with some lover. Every courtesan had her own barge, and servants to pole her to her trysts. The Poetess always had a book to hand, the Moonshadow wore only white and silver, and the Merling Queen was never seen without her Mermaids, four young maidens in the blush of their first flowering who held her train and did her hair. Each courtesan was more beautiful than the last. Even the Veiled Lady was beautiful, though only those she took as lovers ever saw her face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I sold three cockles to a courtesan,\" Cat told the sailors. \"She called tome as she was stepping off her barge.\" Brusco had made it plain to her that she was never to speak to a courtesan unless she was spoken to first, but the woman had smiled at her and paid her in silver, ten times what the cockles had been worth.\n\n\"Which one was this, now? The Queen o' Cockles, was it?\"\n\n\"The Black Pearl,\" she told them. Merry claimed the Black Pearl was the most famous courtesan of all. \"She's descended from the dragons, that one,\" the woman had told Cat. \"The first Black Pearl was a pirate queen. A Westerosi prince took her fora lover and got a daughter on her, who grew up to be a courtesan. Her own daughter followed her, and her daughter after her, until you get to this one. What did she say to you, Cat?\"\n\n\"She said'I\"ll take three cockles, \"and\" Do you have some hot sauce, little one? '\" the girl had answered.\n\n\"And what did you say?\"\n\n\"I said, \"No, my lady,\" and, \"Don't call me little one. My name is Cat. ' I should have hot sauce. Beqqo does, and he sells three times as many oysters as Brusco.\"\n\nCat told the kindly man about the Black Pearl too. \"Her true name is Bellegere Otherys,\" she informed him. It was one of the three things that she had learned.\n\n\"It is,\" the priest said softly. \"Her mother was Bellonara, but the first Black Pearl was a Bellegere as well.\"\n\nCat knew that the men off the Brazen Monkey would not care about the name of a courtesan's mother, though. Instead, she asked them for tidings of the Seven Kingdoms, and the war."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"War?\" laughed one of them. \"What war? There is no war.\"\n\n\"Not in Gulltown,\" said another. \"Not in the Vale. The little lord's kept us out of it, same as his mother did.\"\n\nSame as his mother did. The lady of the Vale washer own mother's sister. \"Lady Lysa,\" she said, \"is she...?\"\n\n\"... dead?\" finished the freckled boy whose head was full of courtesans. \"Aye. Murdered by her own singer.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" It's nought tome. Cat of the Canals never had an aunt. She never did. Cat lifted her barrow and wheeled away from the Brazen Monkey, bumping over cobblestones. \"Oysters, clams, and cockles,\" she called. \"Oysters, clams, and cockles.\" She sold most of her clams to the porters off-loading the big wine cog from the Arbor, and the rest to the men repairing a Myrish trading galley that had been savaged by the storms.\n\nFarther down the docks she came on Tagganaro sitting with his back against a piling, next to Casso, King of Seals. He bought some mussels from her, and Casso barked and let her shake his flipper. \"You come work with me, Cat,\" urged Tagganaro as he was sucking mussels from their shells. He had been looking fora new partner ever since the Drunken Daughter put her knife through Little Narbo's hand. \"I give you more than Brusco, and you would not smell like fish.\"\n\n\"Casso likes the way I smell,\" she said. The King of Seals barked, as if to agree. \"Is Narbo's hand no better?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Three fingers do not bend,\" complained Tagganaro, between mussels. \"What good is a cutpurse who cannot use his fingers? Narbo was good at picking pockets, not so good at picking whores.\"\n\n\"Merry says the same.\" Cat was sad. She liked Little Narbo, even if he was a thief. \"What will he do?\"\n\n\"Pull an oar, he says. Two fingers are enough for that, he thinks, and the Sealord's always looking for more oarsmen. I tell him,\"Narbo, no. That sea is colder than a maiden and crueler than a whore. Better you should cutoff the hand, and beg. \"Casso knows I am right. Don't you, Casso?\"\n\nThe seal barked, and Cat had to smile. She tossed another cockle his way before she went off on her own.\n\nThe day was nearly done by the time Cat reached the Happy Port, across the alley from where the Ship was anchored. Some of the mummers sat up atop the listing hulk, passing a skin of wine from hand to hand, but when they saw Cat's barrow they came down for some oysters. She asked them how it went with Seven Drunken Oarsmen. Joss the Gloom shook his head. \"Quence finally came on Allaquo abed with Sloey. They went atone another with mummer swords, and both of them have left us. We'll only be five drunken oarsmen tonight, it would seem.\"\n\n\"We shall strive to makeup in drunkenness what we lack in oarsmen,\" declared Myrmello. \"I for one am equal to the task.\"\n\n\"Little Narbo wants to bean oarsman,\" Cat told them. \"If you got him, you'd have six.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You had best go see Merry,\" Joss told her. \"You know how sour she gets without her oysters.\"\n\nWhen Cat slipped inside the brothel, though, she found Merry sitting in the common room with her eyes shut, listening to Dareon play his woodharp. Yna was there too, braiding Lanna's fine long golden hair. Another stupid love song. Lanna was always begging the singer to play her stupid love songs. She was the youngest of the whores, only ten-and-four. Merry asked three times as much for her as for any of the other girls, Cat knew.\n\nIt made her angry to see Dareon sitting there so brazen, making eyes at Lanna as his fingers danced across the harp strings. The whores called him the black singer, but there was hardly any black about him now. With the coin his singing brought him, the crow had transformed himself into a peacock. Today he wore a plush purple cloak lined with vair, a striped white-and-lilac tunic, and the parti-colored breeches of a bravo, but he owned a silken cloak as well, and one made of burgundy velvet that was lined with cloth-of-gold. The only black about him was his boots. Cat had heard him tell Lanna that he'd thrown all the rest in a canal. \"I am done with darkness,\" he had announced.\n\nHe is a man of the Night's Watch, she thought, as he sang about some stupid lady throwing herself off some stupid tower because her stupid prince was dead. The lady should go kill the ones who killed her prince. And the singer should be on the Wall. When Dareon had first appeared at the Happy Port, Arya had almost asked if he would take her with him back to Eastwatch, until she heard him telling Bethany that he was never going back. \"Hard beds, salt cod, and endless watches, that's the Wall,\" he'd said. \"Besides, there's no one half as pretty as you at Eastwatch. How could I ever leave you?\" He had said the same thing to Lanna, Cat had heard, and to one of the whores at the Cattery, and even to the Nightingale the night he played at the House of Seven Lamps."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I wish I had been here the night the fat one hit him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Merry's whores still laughed about that. Yna said the fat boy had gone red as a beet every time she touched him, but when he started trouble Merry had him dragged outside and thrown in the canal.\n\nCat was thinking about the fat boy, remembering how she had saved him from Terro and Orbelo, when the Sailor's Wife appeared beside her. \"He sings a pretty song,\" she murmured softly, in the Common Tongue of Westeros. \"The gods must have loved him to give him such a voice, and that fair face as well.\"\n\nHe is fair of face and foul of heart, thought Arya, but she did not say it. Dareon had once wed the Sailor's Wife, who would only bed with men who married her. The Happy Port sometimes had three or four weddings a night. Often the cheerful wine-soaked red priest Ezzelyno performed the rites. Elsewise it was Eustace, who had once been a septon at the Sept-Beyond-the-Sea. If neither priest nor septon was on hand, one of the whores would run to the Ship and fetch back a mummer. Merry always claimed the mummers made much better priests than priests, especially Myrmello.\n\nThe weddings were loud and jolly, with a lot of drinking. Whenever Cat happened by with her barrow, the Sailor's Wife would insist that her new husband buy some oysters, to stiffen him for the consummation. She was good that way, and quick to laugh as well, but Cat thought there was something sad about her too.\n\nThe other whores said that the Sailor's Wife visited the Isle of the Godson the days when her flower was in bloom, and knew all the gods who lived there, even the ones that Braavos had forgotten. They said she went to pray for her first husband, her true husband, who had been lost at sea when she was a girl no older than Lanna. \"She thinks that if she finds the right god, maybe he will send the winds and blow her old love back to her,\" said one-eyed Yna, who had known her longest, \"but I pray it never happens. Her love is dead, I could taste that in her blood. If he ever should comeback to her, it will be a corpse.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dareon's song was finally ending. As the last notes faded in the air, Lanna gave a sigh and the singer put his harp aside and pulled her up into his lap. He had just started to tickle her when Cat said loudly, \"There's oysters, if anyone is wanting some,\" and Merry's eyes popped open. \"Good,\" the woman said. \"Bring them in, child. Yna, fetch some bread and vinegar.\"\n\nThe swollen red sun hung in the sky behind the row of masts when Cat took her leave of the Happy Port, with a plump purse of coins and a barrow empty but for salt and seaweed. Dareon was leaving too. He had promised to sing at the Inn of the Green Eel this evening, he told her as they strolled along together. \"Every time I play the Eel I come away with silver,\" he boasted, \"and some nights there are captains there, and owners.\" They crossed a little bridge, and made their way down a crooked backstreet as the shadows of the day grew longer. \"Soon I will be playing in the Purple, and after that the Sealord's Palace,\" Dareon went on. Cat's empty barrow clattered over the cobblestones, making its own sort of rattling music. \"Yesterday I ate herring with the whores, but within the year I'll behaving emperor crab with courtesans.\"\n\n\"What happened to your brother?\" Cat asked. \"The fat one. Did he ever find a ship to Oldtown? He said he was supposed to sail on the Lady Ushanora.\"\n\n\"We all were. Lord Snow's command. I told Sam, leave the old man, but the fat fool would not listen.\" The last light of the setting sun shone in his hair. \"Well, it's too late now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Just so,\" said Cat as they stepped into the gloom of a twisty little alley.\n\nBy the time Cat returned to Brusco's house, an evening fog was gathering above the small canal. She put away her barrow, found Brusco in his counting room, and thumped her purse down on the table in front of him. She thumped the boots down too.\n\nBrusco gave the purse a pat. \"Good. But what's this?\"\n\n\"Boots.\"\n\n\"Good boots are hard to find,\" said Brusco, \"but these are too small for my feet.\" He picked one up to squint at it.\n\n\"The moon will be black tonight,\" she reminded him.\n\n\"Best you pray, then.\" Brusco shoved the boots aside and poured out the coins to count them. \"Valar dohaeris.\"\n\nValar morghulis, she thought.\n\nFog rose all around as she walked through the streets of Braavos. She was shivering a little by the time she pushed through the weirwood door into the House of Black and White. Only a few candles burned this evening, flickering like fallen stars. In the darkness all the gods were strangers.\n\nDown in the vaults, she untied Cat's threadbare cloak, pulled Cat's fishy brown tunic over her head, kicked off Cat's salt-stained boots, climbed out of Cat's smallclothes, and bathed in lemonwater to wash away the very smell of Cat of the Canals. When she emerged, soaped and scrubbed pink with her brown hair plastered to her cheeks, Cat was gone. She donned clean robes and a pair of soft cloth slippers, and padded to the kitchens to beg some food of Umma. The priests and acolytes had already eaten, but the cook had saved apiece of nice fried cod for her, and some mashed yellow turnips. She wolfed it down, washed the dish, then went to help the waif prepare her potions."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Her part was mostly fetching, scrambling up ladders to find the herbs and leaves the waif required."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sweetsleep is the gentlest of poisons,\" the waif told her, as she was grinding some with a mortar and pestle. \"A few grains will slow a pounding heart and stop a hand from shaking, and make a man feel calm and strong. A pinch will grant a night of deep and dreamless sleep. Three pinches will produce that sleep that does not end. The taste is very sweet, so it is best used in cakes and pies and honeyed wines. Here, you can smell the sweetness.\" She let her have a whiff, then sent her up the ladders to find a red glass bottle. \"This is a crueler poison, but tasteless and odorless, hence easier to hide. The tears of Lys, men call it. Dissolved in wine or water, it eats at a man's bowels and belly, and kills as a sickness of those parts. Smell.\" Arya sniffed, and smelled nothing. The waif put the tears to one side and opened a fat stone jar. \"This paste is spiced with basilisk blood. It will give cooked flesh a savory smell, but if eaten it produces violent madness, in beasts as well as men. A mouse will attack a lion after a taste of basilisk blood.\"\n\nArya chewed her lip. \"Would it work on dogs?\"\n\n\"On any animal with warm blood.\" The waif slapped her.\n\nShe raised her hand to her cheek, more surprised than hurt. \"Why did you do that?\"\n\n\"It is Arya of House Stark who chews on her lip whenever she is thinking. Are you Arya of House Stark?\"\n\n\"I am no one.\" She was angry. \"Who are you?\"\n\nShe did not expect the waif to answer, but she did. \"I was born the only child of an ancient House, my noble father's heir,\" the waif replied. \"My mother died when I was little, I have no memory of her. When I was six my father wed again. His new wife treated me kindly until she gave birth to a daughter of her own. Then it washer wish that I should die, so her own blood might inherit my father's wealth. She should have sought the favor of the Many-Faced God, but she could not bear the sacrifice he would ask of her. Instead, she thought to poison me herself. It left meas you see me now, but I did not die. When the healers in the House of the Red Hands told my father what she had done, he came here and made sacrifice, offering up all his wealth and me. Him of Many Faces heard his prayer. I was brought to the temple to serve, and my father's wife received the gift.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Arya considered her warily."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Is that true?\"\n\n\"There is truth in it.\"\n\n\"And lies as well?\"\n\n\"There is an untruth, and an exaggeration.\"\n\nShe had been watching the waif's face the whole time she told her story, but the other girl had shown her no signs. \"The Many-Faced God took two-thirds of your father's wealth, not all.\"\n\n\"Just so. That was my exaggeration.\"\n\nArya grinned, realized she was grinning, and gave her cheek a pinch. Rule your face, she told herself. My smile is my servant, he should come at my command. \"What part was the lie?\"\n\n\"No part. I lied about the lie.\"\n\n\"Did you? Or are you lying now?\"\n\nBut before the waif could answer, the kindly man stepped into the chamber, smiling. \"You have returned to us.\"\n\n\"The moon is black.\"\n\n\"It is. What three new things do you know, that you did not know when last you left us?\"\n\nI know thirty new things, she almost said. \"Three of Little Narbo's fingers will not bend. He means to bean oarsman.\"\n\n\"It is good to know this. And what else?\"\n\nShe thought back on her day. \"Quence and Alaquo had a fight and left the Ship, but I think that they'll comeback.\"\n\n\"Do you only think, or do you know?\"\n\n\"I only think,\" she had to confess, even though she was certain of it. Mummers had to eat the same as other men, and Quence and Alaquo were not good enough for the Blue Lantern.\n\n\"Just so,\" said the kindly man. \"And the third thing?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This time she did not hesitate. \"Dareon is dead. The black singer who was sleeping at the Happy Port. He was really a deserter from the Night's Watch. Someone slit his throat and pushed him into a canal, but they kept his boots.\"\n\n\"Good boots are hard to find.\"\n\n\"Just so.\" She tried to keep her face still.\n\n\"Who could have done this thing, I wonder?\"\n\n\"Arya of House Stark.\" She watched his eyes, his mouth, the muscles of his jaw.\n\n\"That girl? I thought she had left Braavos. Who are you?\"\n\n\"No one.\"\n\n\"You lie.\" He turned to the waif. \"My throat is dry. Dome a kindness and bring a cup of wine for me and warm milk for our friend Arya, who has returned to us so unexpectedly.\"\n\nOn her way across the city Arya had wondered what the kindly man would say when she told him about Dareon. Maybe he would be angry with her, or maybe he would be pleased that she had given the singer the gift of the Many-Faced God. She had played this talk out in her head half a hundred times, like a mummer in a show. But she had never thought warm milk.\n\nWhen the milk came, Arya drank it down. It smelled a little burnt and had a bitter aftertaste. \"Go to bed now, child,\" the kindly man said. \"On the morrow you must serve.\"\n\nThat night she dreamed she was a wolf again, but it was different from the other dreams. In this dream she had no pack. She prowled alone, bounding over rooftops and padding silently beside the banks of a canal, stalking shadows through the fog.\n\nWhen she woke the next morning, she was blind."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SAMWELL\n\nThe Cinnamon Wind was a swan ship out of Tall Trees Town on the Summer Isles, where men were black, women were wanton, and even the gods were strange. She had no septon aboard her to lead them in the prayers of passing, so the task fell to Samwell Tarly, somewhere off the sun-scorched southern coast of Dorne.\n\nSam donned his blacks to say the words, though the afternoon was warm and muggy, with nary a breath of wind. \"He was a good man,\" he began... but as soon as he had said the words he knew that they were wrong. \"No. He was a great man. A maester of the Citadel, chained and sworn, and Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch, ever faithful. When he was born they named him fora hero who had died too young, but though he lived along longtime, his own life was no less heroic. No man was wiser, or gentler, or kinder. At the Wall, a dozen lords commander came and went during his years of service, but he was always thereto counsel them. He counseled kings as well. He could have been a king himself, but when they offered him the crown he told them they should give it to his younger brother. How many men would do that?\" Sam felt the tears welling in his eyes, and knew he could not goon much longer. \"He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out. He was Aemon Targaryen. And now his watch is ended.\"\n\n\"And now his watch is ended,\" Gilly murmured after him, rocking the babe in her arms. Kojja Mo echoed her in the Common Tongue of Westeros, then repeated the words in the Summer Tongue for Xhondo and her father and the rest of the assembled crew. Sam hung his head and began to weep, his sobs so loud and wrenching that they made his whole body shake. Gilly came and stood beside him and let him cry upon her shoulder. There were tears in her eyes as well."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 38"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SAMWELL\n\nThe Cinnamon Wind was a swan ship out of Tall Trees Town on the Summer Isles, where men were black, women were wanton, and even the gods were strange. She had no septon aboard her to lead them in the prayers of passing, so the task fell to Samwell Tarly, somewhere off the sun-scorched southern coast of Dorne.\n\nSam donned his blacks to say the words, though the afternoon was warm and muggy, with nary a breath of wind. \"He was a good man,\" he began... but as soon as he had said the words he knew that they were wrong. \"No. He was a great man. A maester of the Citadel, chained and sworn, and Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch, ever faithful. When he was born they named him fora hero who had died too young, but though he lived along longtime, his own life was no less heroic. No man was wiser, or gentler, or kinder. At the Wall, a dozen lords commander came and went during his years of service, but he was always thereto counsel them. He counseled kings as well. He could have been a king himself, but when they offered him the crown he told them they should give it to his younger brother. How many men would do that?\" Sam felt the tears welling in his eyes, and knew he could not goon much longer. \"He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out. He was Aemon Targaryen. And now his watch is ended.\"\n\n\"And now his watch is ended,\" Gilly murmured after him, rocking the babe in her arms. Kojja Mo echoed her in the Common Tongue of Westeros, then repeated the words in the Summer Tongue for Xhondo and her father and the rest of the assembled crew. Sam hung his head and began to weep, his sobs so loud and wrenching that they made his whole body shake. Gilly came and stood beside him and let him cry upon her shoulder. There were tears in her eyes as well."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The air was moist and warm and dead calm, and the Cinnamon Wind was adrift upon a deep blue sea far beyond the sight of land. \"Black Sam said good words,\" Xhondo said. \"Now we drink his life.\" He shouted something in the Summer Tongue, and a cask of spiced rum was rolled up onto the afterdeck and breached, so those on watch might down a cup in the memory of the old blind dragon. The crew had known him only a short while, but Summer Islanders revered the elderly and celebrated their dead.\n\nSam had never drunk rum before. The liquor was strange and heady; sweet at first, but with a fiery aftertaste that burned his tongue. He was tired, so tired. Every muscle he had was aching, and there were other aches in places where Sam hadn't known he had muscles. His knees were stiff, his hands covered with fresh new blisters and raw, sticky patches of skin where the old blisters had burst. Yet between them, rum and sadness seemed to wash his hurts away. \"If only we could have gotten him to Oldtown, the archmaesters might have saved him,\" he told Gilly, as they sipped their rum on the Cinnamon Wind's high forecastle. \"The healers of the Citadel are the best in the Seven Kingdoms. Fora while I thought... I hoped...\"\n\nOn Braavos, it had seemed possible that Aemon might recover. Xhondo's talk of dragons had almost seemed to restore the old man to himself. That night he ate every bite Sam put before him. \"No one ever looked fora girl,\" he said. \"It was a prince that was promised, not a princess. Rhaegar, I thought... the smoke was from the fire that devoured Summerhall on the day of his birth, the salt from the tears shed for those who died. He shared my belief when he was young, but later he became persuaded that it was his own son who fulfilled the prophecy, fora comet had been seen above King's Landing on the night Aegon was conceived, and Rhaegar was certain the bleeding star had to be a comet. What fools we were, who thought ourselves so wise! The error crept in from the translation. Dragons are neither male nor female, Barth saw the truth of that, but now one and now the other, as changeable as flame. The language misled us all fora thousand years. Daenerys is the one, born amidst salt and smoke. The dragons prove it.\" Just talking of her seemed to make him stronger. \"I must go to her. I must. Would that I was even ten years younger.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The old man had been so determined that he had even walked up the plank onto the Cinnamon Wind on his own two legs, after Sam made arrangements for their passage. He had already given his sword and scabbard to Xhondo, to repay the big mate for the feathered cloak he'd ruined saving Sam from drowning. The only things of value that still remained to them were the books they had brought from the vaults of Castle Black. Sam parted with them glumly. \"They were meant for the Citadel,\" he said, when Xhondo asked him what was wrong. When the mate translated those words, the captain laughed. \"Quhuru Mo says the grey men will behaving these books still,\" Xhondo told him, \"only they will be buying them from Quhuru Mo. The maesters give good silver for books they are not having, and sometimes red and yellow gold.\"\n\nThe captain wanted Aemon's chain as well, but there Sam had refused. It was a great shame for any maester to surrender his chain, he had explained. Xhondo had to go over that part three times before Quhuru Mo accepted it. By the time the dealing was done, Sam was down to his boots and blacks and smallclothes, and the broken horn Jon Snow had found on the Fist of First Men. I had no choice, he told himself. We could not stay on Braavos, and short of theft or beggary, there was no other way to pay for passage. He would have counted it cheap at thrice the price if only they had gotten Maester Aemon safe to Oldtown.\n\nTheir passage south had been a stormy one, however, and every gale took its toll on the old man's strength and spirits. At Pentos he asked to be brought up onto deck so Sam might paint a picture of the city for him with words, but that was the last time he left the captain's bed. Soon after that, his wits began to wander once again. By the time the Cinnamon Windswept past the Bleeding Tower into Tyrosh harbor, Aemon no longer spoke of trying to find a ship to take him east. Instead his talk turned back to Oldtown, and the archmaesters of the Citadel."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You must tell them, Sam,\" he said. \"The archmaesters. You must make them understand. The men who were at the Citadel when I was have been dead for fifty years. These others never knew me. My letters... in Oldtown, they must have read like the ravings of an old man whose wits had fled. You must convince them, where I could not. Tell them, Sam... tell them how it is upon the Wall... the wights and the white walkers, the creeping cold...\"\n\n\"I will,\" Sam promised. \"I will add my voice to yours, maester. We will both tell them, the two of us together.\"\n\n\"No,\" the old man said. \"It must be you. Tell them. The prophecy... my brother's dream... Lady Melisandre has misread the signs. Stannis... Stannis has some of the dragon blood in him, yes. His brothers did as well. Rhaelle, Egg's little girl, she was how they came by it... their father's mother... she used to call me Uncle Maester when she was a little girl. I remembered that, so I allowed myself to hope... perhaps I wanted to... we all deceive ourselves, when we want to believe. Melisandre most of all, I think. The sword is wrong, she has to know that... light without heat... an empty glamor... the sword is wrong, and the false light can only lead us deeper into darkness, Sam. Daenerys is our hope. Tell them that, at the Citadel. Make them listen. They must send her a maester. Daenerys must be counseled, taught, protected. For all these years I've lingered, waiting, watching, and now that the day has dawned I am too old. I am dying, Sam.\" Tears ran from his blind white eyes at that admission. \"Death should hold no fear fora man as old as me, but it does. Isn't that silly? It is always dark where I am, so why should I fear the darkness? Yet I cannot help but wonder what will follow, when the last warmth leaves my body. Will I feast forever in the Father's golden hall as the septons say? Will I talk with Egg again, find Dareon whole and happy, hear my sisters singing to their children? What if the horselords have the truth of it? Will I ride through the night sky forever on a stallion made of flame? Or must I return again to this vale of sorrow? Who can say, truly? Who has been beyond the wall of death to see? Only the wights, and we know what they are like. We know.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There was little and less that Sam could say to that, but he had given the old man what little comfort he could."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And Gilly came in afterward and sang a song for him, a nonsense song thing that she learned from some of Craster's other wives. It made the old man smile and helped him go to sleep.\n\nThat had been one of his last good days. After that the old man spent more time sleeping than awake, curled up beneath a pile of furs in the captain's cabin. Sometimes he would mutter in his sleep. When he woke he'd call for Sam, insisting that he had to tell him something, but oft as not he would have forgotten what he meant to say by the time that Sam arrived. Even when he did recall, his talk was all a jumble. He spoke of dreams and never named the dreamer, of a glass candle that could not be lit and eggs that would not hatch. He said the sphinx was the riddle, not the riddler, whatever that meant. He asked Sam to read for him from a book by Septon Barth, whose writings had been burned during the reign of Baelor the Blessed. Once he woke up weeping. \"The dragon must have three heads,\" he wailed, \"but I am too old and frail to be one of them. I should be with her, showing her the way, but my body has betrayed me.\"\n\nAs the Cinnamon Wind made her way through the Stepstones, Maester Aemon forgot Sam's name oft as not. Some days he took him for one of his dead brothers. \"He was too frail for such along voyage,\" Sam told Gilly on the forecastle, after another sip of the rum. \"Jon should have seen that. Aemon was a hundred and two years old, he should never have been sent to sea. If he had stayed at Castle Black, he might have lived another ten years.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Or else she might have burned him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The red woman.\" Even here, a thousand leagues from the Wall, Gilly was reluctant to say Lady Melisandre's name aloud. \"She wanted king's blood for her fires. Val knew she did. Lord Snow too. That was why they made me take Dalla's babe away and leave my own behind in his place. Maester Aemon went to sleep and didn't wake up, but if he had stayed, she would have burned him.\"\n\nHe will still burn, Sam thought miserably, only now I have to do it. The Targaryens always gave their fallen to the flames. Quhuru Mo would not allow a funeral pyre aboard the Cinnamon Wind, so Aemon's corpse had been stuffed inside a cask of blackbelly rum to preserve it until the ship reached Oldtown.\n\n\"The night before he died, he asked if he might hold the babe,\" Gilly went on. \"I was afraid he might drop him, but he never did. He rocked him and hummed a song for him, and Dalla's boy reached up and touched his face. The way he pulled his lip I thought he might be hurting him, but it only made the old man laugh.\" She stroked Sam's hand. \"We could name the little one Maester, if you like. When he's old enough, not now. We could.\"\n\n\"Maester is not a name. You could call him Aemon, though.\"\n\nGilly thought about that. \"Dalla brought him forth during battle, as the swords sang all around her. That should be his name. Aemon Battleborn. Aemon Steelsong.\"\n\nA name even my lord father might like. A warrior's name. The boy was Mance Rayder's son and Craster's grandson, after all. He had none of Sam's craven blood. \"Yes. Call him that.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"When he is two,\" she promised, \"not before.\"\n\n\"Where is the boy?\" Sam thought to ask. Between rum and sorrow, it had taken him that long to realize that Gilly did not have the babe with her.\n\n\"Kojja has him. I asked her to take him fora while.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Kojja Mo was the captain's daughter, taller than Sam and slender as a spear, with skin as black and smooth as polished jet. She captained the ship's red archers too, and pulled a double-curved goldenheart bow that could send a shaft four hundred yards. When the pirates had attacked them in the Stepstones, Kojja's arrows had slain a dozen of them whilst Sam's own shafts were falling in the water. The only thing Kojja Mo loved better than her bow was bouncing Dalla's boy upon her knee and singing to him in the Summer Tongue. The wildling prince had become the darling of all the women in the crew, and Gilly seemed to trust them with him as she had never trusted any man.\n\n\"That was kind of Kojja,\" Sam said.\n\n\"I was afraid of her at first,\" said Gilly. \"She was so black, and her teeth were so big and white, I was afraid she was a beastling or a monster, but she's not. She's good. I like her.\"\n\n\"I know you do.\" For most of her life the only man Gilly had known had been the terrifying Craster. The rest of her world had been female. Men frighten her, but women don't, Sam realized. He could understand that. Back at Horn Hill he had preferred the company of girls as well. His sisters had been kind to him, and though the other girls would sometimes taunt him, cruel words were easier to shrug off than the blows and buffets he got from the other castle boys. Even now, on the Cinnamon Wind, Sam felt more comfortable with Kojja Mo than with her father, though that might be because she spoke the Common Tongue and he did not."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I like you too, Sam,\" whispered Gilly. \"And I like this drink. It tastes like fire.\"\n\nYes, Sam thought, a drink for dragons. Their cups were empty, so he went over to the cask and filled them once again. The sun was low in the west, he saw, swollen to thrice its proper size. Its ruddy light made Gilly's face seem flushed and red. They drank a cup to Kojja Mo, and one to Dalla's boy, and one to Gilly's babe back on the Wall. And after that nothing would do but to drink two cups for Aemon of House Targaryen. \"May the Father judge him justly,\" Sam said, sniffing. The sun was almost gone by the time they were done with Maester Aemon. Only along thin line of red still glowed upon the western horizon, like a slash across the sky. Gilly said that the drink was making the ship spin round, so Sam helped her down the ladder to the women's quarters in the bow of the ship.\n\nThere was a lantern hanging just inside the cabin, and he managed to bang his head on it going in. \"Ow,\" he said, and Gilly said, \"Are you hurt? Let me see.\" She leaned close...\n\n... and kissed his mouth.\n\nSam found himself kissing her back. I said the words, he thought, but her hands were tugging at his blacks, pulling at the laces of his breeches. He broke off the kiss long enough to say, \"We can't,\" but Gilly said, \"We can,\" and covered his mouth with her own again. The Cinnamon Wind was spinning all around them and he could taste the rum on Gilly's tongue and the next thing her breasts were bare and he was touching them. I said the words, Sam thought again, but one of her nipples found its way between his lips. It was pink and hard and when he sucked on it her milk filled his mouth, mingling with the taste of rum, and he had never tasted anything so fine and sweet and good. If I do this I am no better than Dareon, Sam thought, but it felt too good to stop. And suddenly his cock was out, jutting upward from his breeches like a fat pink mast. It looked so silly standing there that he might have laughed, but Gilly pushed him back onto her pallet, hiked her skirts up around her thighs, and lowered herself onto him with a little whimpery sound. That was even better than her nipples. She's so wet, he thought, gasping. I never knew a woman could get so wet down there. \"I am your wife now,\" she whispered, sliding up and down on him. And Sam groaned and thought, No, no, you can't be, I said the words, I said the words, but the only word he said was, \"Yes.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Afterward she went to sleep with her arms around him and her face across his chest. Sam needed sleep as well, but he was drunk on rum and mother's milk and Gilly. He knew he ought to crawl back to his own hammock in the men's cabin, but she felt so good curled up against him that somehow he could not move.\n\nOthers came in, men and women both, and he listened to them kissing and laughing and mating with one another. Summer Islanders. That's how they mourn. They answer death with life. Sam had read that somewhere, along time ago. He wondered if Gilly knew, if Kojja Mo had told her what to do.\n\nHe breathed the fragrance of her hair and stared at the lantern swinging overhead. Even the Crone herself could not lead me safely out of this. The best thing he could do would be to slip away and jump into the sea. If I'm drowned, no one need ever know that I shamed myself and broke my vows, and Gilly can find herself a better man, one who is not some big fat coward.\n\nHe awoke the next morning in his own hammock in the men's cabin, with Xhondo bellowing about the wind. \"Wind is up,\" the mate kept shouting. \"Wake and work, Black Sam. Wind is up.\" What Xhondo lacked in vocabulary he made up for in volume. Sam rolled from his hammock to his feet, and regretted it at once. His head was fit to split, one of the blisters on his palm had torn open in the night, and he felt as if he were about to retch.\n\nXhondo had no mercy, though, so all that Sam could do was struggle back into his blacks. He found them on the deck beneath his hammock, all bundled up in one damp heap. He sniffed at them to see how foul they were, and inhaled the smell of salt and sea and tar, wet canvas and mildew, fruit and fish and blackbelly rum, strange spices and exotic woods, and a heady bouquet of his own dried sweat. But Gilly's smell was on them too, the clean smell of her hair and the sweet smell of her milk, and that made him glad to wear them. He would have given much and more for warm dry socks, though. Some sort of fungus had begun to grow between his toes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The chest of books had not been near enough to buy passage for four from Braavos to Oldtown."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Cinnamon Wind was shorthanded, however, so Quhuru Mo had agreed that he would take them, provided that they worked their way. When Sam had protested that Maester Aemon was too weak, the boy a babe in arms, and Gilly terrified of the sea, Xhondo only laughed, \"Black Sam is big fat man. Black Sam will work for four.\"\n\nIf truth be told, Sam was so fumble-fingered that he doubted he was even doing the work of one good man, but he did try. He scrubbed decks and rubbed them smooth with stones, he hauled on anchor chains, he coiled rope and hunted rats, he sewed up torn sails, patched leaks with bubbling hot tar, boned fish and chopped fruit for the cook. Gilly tried as well. She was better in the rigging than Sam was, though from time to time the sight of so much empty water still made her close her eyes.\n\nGilly, Sam thought, what am I going to do with Gilly?\n\nIt was along hot sticky day, made longer by his pounding head. Sam busied himself with ropes and sails and the other tasks that Xhondo set him, and tried not to let his eyes wander to the cask of rum that held old Maester Aemon's body... or to Gilly. He could not face the wildling girl right now, not after what they'd done last night. When she came upon deck he went below. When she went forward he went aft. When she smiled at him he turned away, feeling wretched. I should have jumped into the sea whilst she was still asleep, he thought. I have always been a craven, but I was never an oathbreaker till now.\n\nIf Maester Aemon had not died, Sam could have asked him what to do. If Jon Snow had been aboard, or even Pyp and Grenn, he might have turned to them. Instead he had Xhondo. Xhondo would not understand what I was saying. Or if he did, he'd just tell me to fuck the girl again. \"Fuck\" had been the first word of the Common Tongue that Xhondo had learned, and he was very fond of it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was fortunate that the Cinnamon Wind was so big. Aboard the Blackbird Gilly could have run him down in hardly anytime at all. \"Swan ships,\" the great vessels from the Summer Isles were called in the Seven Kingdoms, for their billowing white sails and for their figureheads, most of which depicted birds. Large as they were, they rode the waves with a grace that was all their own. With a good brisk wind behind them, the Cinnamon Wind could outrun any galley, though she was helpless when becalmed. And she offered plenty of places fora craven to hide.\n\nNear the end of Sam's watch, he was finally cornered. He was climbing down a ladder when Xhondo seized him by the collar. \"Black Sam come with Xhondo,\" he said, dragging him across the deck and dumping him at the feet of Kojja Mo.\n\nFar off to the north, a haze was visible low on the horizon. Kojja pointed at it. \"There is the coast of Dorne. Sand and rocks and scorpions, and no good anchorage for hundreds of leagues. You can swim there if you like, and walk to Oldtown. You will need to cross the deep desert and climb some mountains and swim the Torentine. Or else you could go to Gilly.\"\n\n\"You do not understand. Last night we...\"\n\n\"... honored your dead, and the gods who made you both. Xhondo did the same. I had the child, else I would have been with him. All you Westerosi make a shame of loving. There is no shame in loving. If your septons say there is, your seven gods must be demons. In the isles we know better. Our gods gave us legs to run with, noses to smell with, hands to touch and feel. What mad cruel god would give a man eyes and tell him he must forever keep them shut, and never look at all the beauty in the world? Only a monster god, a demon of the darkness.\" Kojja put her hand between Sam's legs. \"The gods gave you this fora reason too, for... what is your Westerosi word?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fucking,\" Xhondo offered helpfully.\n\n\"Yes, for fucking. For the giving of pleasure and the making of children. There is no shame in that.\"\n\nSam backed away from her. \"I took avow. I will take no wife, and father no children. I said the words.\"\n\n\"She knows the words you said. She is a child in someways, but she is not blind. She knows why you wear the black, why you go to Oldtown. She knows she cannot keep you. She wants you fora little while, is all. She lost her father and her husband, her mother and her sisters, her home, her world. All she has is you, and the babe. So you go to her, or swim.\"\n\nSam looked despairingly at the haze that marked the distant shoreline. He could never swim so far, he knew.\n\nHe went to Gilly. \"What we did... if I could take a wife, I would sooner have you than any princess or highborn maiden, but I can't. I am still a crow. I said the words, Gilly. I went with Jon into the woods and said the words before a heart tree.\"\n\n\"The trees watch over us,\" Gilly whispered, brushing the tears from his cheeks. \"In the forest, they see all... but there are no trees here. Only water, Sam. Only water.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "CERSEI\n\nThe day had been cold and grey and wet. It had poured all morning, and even when the rain stopped that afternoon the clouds refused to part. They never saw the sun. Such wretched weather was enough to discourage even the little queen. Instead of riding with her hens and their retinue of guardsmen and admirers, she spent all day in the Maidenvault with her hens, listening to the Blue Bard sing.\n\nCersei's own day was little better, till evenfall. As the grey sky began to fade to black, they told her that the Sweet Cersei had come in on the evening tide, and that Aurane Waters was without, begging audience.\n\nThe queen sent for him at once. As soon as he strode into her solar, she knew his tidings were good. \"Your Grace,\" he said with abroad smile, \"Dragonstone is yours.\"\n\n\"How splendid.\" She took his hands and kissed him on the cheeks. \"I know Tommen will be pleased as well. This will mean that we can release Lord Redwyne's fleet, and drive the ironmen from the Shields.\" The news from the Reach seemed to grow more dire with every raven. The ironmen had not been content with their new rocks, it seemed. They were raiding up the Mander in strength, and had gone so far as to attack the Arbor and the smaller islands that surrounded it. The Redwynes had kept no more than a dozen warships in their home waters, and all those had been overwhelmed, taken, or sunk. And now there were reports that this madman who called himself Euron Crow's Eye was even sending longships up Whispering Sound toward Oldtown.\n\n\"Lord Paxter was taking on provisions for the voyage home when Sweet Cersei raised sail,\" Lord Waters reported. \"I would imagine that by now his main fleet has put to sea.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Let us hope they enjoy a swift voyage, and better weather than today.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The queen drew Waters down into the window seat beside her. \"Do we have Ser Loras to thank for this triumph?\"\n\nHis smile vanished. \"Some will say so, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Some?\" She gave him a quizzical look. \"Not you?\"\n\n\"I never saw a braver knight,\" Waters said, \"but he turned what could have been a bloodless victory into a slaughter. A thousand men are dead, or near enough to make no matter. Most of them our own. And not just common men, Your Grace, but knights and young lords, the best and the bravest.\"\n\n\"And Ser Loras himself?\"\n\n\"He will make a thousand and one. They carried him inside the castle after the battle, but his wounds are grievous. He has lost so much blood that the maesters will not even leech him.\"\n\n\"Oh, how sad. Tommen will be heartbroken. He did so admire our gallant Knight of Flowers.\"\n\n\"The smallfolk too,\" her admiral said. \"We'll have maidens weeping into their wine all across the realm when Loras dies.\"\n\nHe was not wrong, the queen knew. Three thousand smallfolk had crowded through the Mud Gate to see Ser Loras off the day he sailed, and three of every four were women. The sight had only served to fill her with contempt. She had wanted to scream at them that they were sheep, to tell them that all that they could ever hope to get from Loras Tyrell was a smile and a flower. Instead she had proclaimed him the boldest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, and smiled as Tommen presented him with a jeweled sword to carry into battle. The king had given him a hug as well, which had not been part of Cersei's plans, but it made no matter now. She could afford to be generous. Loras Tyrell was dying."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell me,\" Cersei commanded. \"I want to know all of it, from the beginning to the end.\"\n\nThe room had grown dark by the time that he was done. The queen lit some candles and sent Dorcas to the kitchens to bring them up some bread and cheese and a bit of boiled beef with horseradish. As they supped, she bid Aurane to tell the tale again, so she would remember all the details correctly. \"I do not want our precious Margaery to hear these tidings from a stranger, after all,\" she said. \"I will tell her myself.\"\n\n\"Your Grace is kind,\" said Waters with a smile. A wicked smile, the queen thought. Aurane did not resemble Prince Rhaegar as much as she had thought. He has the hair, but so do half the whores in Lys, if the tales are true. Rhaegar was a man. This is a sly boy, no more. Useful in his way, though.\n\nMargaery was in the Maidenvault, sipping wine and trying to puzzle out some new game from Volantis with her three cousins. Though the hour was late, the guards admitted Cersei at once. \"Your Grace,\" she began, \"it is best you hear the news from me. Aurane is back from Dragonstone. Your brother is a hero.\"\n\n\"I always knew he was.\" Margaery did not seem surprised. Why should she? She expected this, from the moment Loras begged for the command. Yet by the time Cersei had finished with her tale, tears glistened on the cheeks of the younger queen. \"Redwyne had miners working to drive a tunnel underneath the castle walls, but that was too slow for the Knight of Flowers. No doubt he was thinking of your lord father's people suffering on the Shields. Lord Waters says he ordered the assault not half a day after taking command, after Lord Stannis's castellan refused his offer to settle the siege between them in single combat. Loras was the first one through the breach when the ram broke the castle gates. He rode straight into the dragon's mouth, they say, all in white and swinging his morningstar about his head, slaying left and right.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Megga Tyrell was sobbing openly by then. \"How did he die?\" she asked. \"Who killed him?\"\n\n\"No one man has that honor,\" said Cersei. \"Ser Loras took a quarrel through the thigh and another through the shoulder, but he fought on gallantly, though the blood was streaming from him. Later he suffered a mace blow that broke some ribs. After that... but no, I would spare you the worst of it.\"\n\n\"Tell me,\" said Margaery. \"I command it.\"\n\nCommand it? Cersei paused a moment, then decided she would let that pass. \"The defenders fell back to an inner keep once the curtain wall was taken. Loras led the attack there as well. He was doused with boiling oil.\"\n\nLady Alla turned white as chalk, and ran from the room.\n\n\"The maesters are doing all they can, Lord Waters assures me, but I fear your brother is too badly burned.\" Cersei took Margaery in her arms to comfort her. \"He saved the realm.\" When she kissed the little queen upon the cheek, she could taste the salt of her tears. \"Jaime will enter all his deeds in the White Book, and the singers will sing of him fora thousand years.\"\n\nMargaery wrenched free of her embrace, so violently that Cersei almost fell. \"Dying is not dead,\" she said.\n\n\"No, but the maesters say-\"\n\n\"Dying is not dead!\"\n\n\"I only want to spare you-\"\n\n\"I know what you want. Get out.\"\n\nNow you know how I felt, the night my Joffrey died. She bowed, her face a mask of cool courtesy. \"Sweet daughter. I am so sad for you. I will leave you with your grief.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lady Merryweather did not appear that night, and Cersei found herself too restless to sleep. If Lord Tywin could see me now, he would know he had his heir, an heir worthy of the Rock, she thought as she lay abed with Jocelyn Swyft snoring softly into the other pillow. Margaery would soon be weeping the bitter tears she should have wept for Joffrey. Mace Tyrell might weep as well, but she had given him no cause to break with her. What had she done, after all, but honor Loras with her trust? He had requested the command on bended knee whilst half her court looked on.\n\nWhen he dies I must raise a statue of him somewhere, and give him a funeral such as King's Landing has never seen. The smallfolk would like that. So would Tommen. Mace may even thank me, poor man. As for his lady mother, if the gods are good this news will kill her.\n\nThe sunrise was the prettiest that Cersei had seen in years. Taena appeared soon thereafter, and confessed to having spent the night consoling Margaery and her ladies, drinking wine and crying and telling tales of Loras. \"Margaery is still convinced he will not die,\" she reported, as the queen was dressed for court. \"She plans to send her own maester to look after him. The cousins are praying for the Mother's mercy.\"\n\n\"I shall pray as well. On the morrow, come with me to Baelor's Sept, and we will light a hundred candles for our gallant Knight of Flowers.\" She turned to her handmaid. \"Dorcas, bring my crown. The new one, if you please.\" It was lighter than the old, pale spun gold set with emeralds that sparkled when she turned her head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There are four come about the Imp this morning,\" Ser Osmund said, when Jocelyn admitted him.\n\n\"Four?\" The queen was pleasantly surprised. A steady stream of informers had been making their way to the Red Keep, claiming knowledge of Tyrion, but four in one day was unusual.\n\n\"Aye,\" said Osmund. \"One brought ahead for you.\"\n\n\"I will see him first. Bring him to my solar.\" This time, let there be no mistakes. Let me be avenged at long last, so Joff can rest in peace. The septons said that the number seven was sacred to the gods. If so, perhaps this seventh head would bring her the balm her soul desired.\n\nThe man proved to be Tyroshi; short and stout and sweaty, with an unctuous smile that reminded her of Varys and a forked beard dyed green and pink. Cersei misliked him on sight, but was willing to overlook his flaws if he actually had Tyrion's head inside the chest he carried. It was cedar, inlaid with ivory in a pattern of vines and flowers, with hinges and clasps of white gold. A lovely thing, but the queen's only interest lay in what might be within. It is big enough, at least. Tyrion had a grotesquely large head, for one so small and stunted.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" the Tyroshi murmured, bowing low, \"I see you areas lovely as the tales. Even beyond the narrow sea we have heard of your great beauty, and the grief that tears your gentle heart. No man can restore your brave young son to you, but it is my hope I can at least offer you some balm for your pain.\" He laid his hand upon his chest. \"I bring you justice. I bring you the head of your valonqar.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The old Valyrian word sent a chill through her, though it also gave her a tingle of hope."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Imp is no longer my brother, if he ever was,\" she declared. \"Nor will I say his name. It was a proud name once, before he dishonored it.\"\n\n\"In Tyrosh we name him Redhands, for the blood running from his fingers. A king's blood, and a father's. Some say he slew his mother too, ripping his way from her womb with savage claws.\"\n\nWhat nonsense, Cersei thought. \"\"Tis true,\" she said. \"If the Imp's head is in that chest, I shall raise you to lordship and grant you rich lands and keeps.\" Titles were cheaper than dirt, and the riverlands were full of ruined castles, standing desolate amidst untended fields and burned villages. \"My court awaits. Open the box and let us see.\"\n\nThe Tyroshi threw open the box with a flourish, and stepped back smiling. Within, the head of a dwarf reposed upon abed of soft blue velvet, staring up at her.\n\nCersei took along look. \"That is not my brother.\" There was a sour taste in her mouth. I suppose it was too much to hope for, especially after Loras. The gods are never that good. \"This man has brown eyes. Tyrion had one black eye and one green.\"\n\n\"The eyes, just so... Your Grace, your brother's own eyes had... somewhat decayed. I took the liberty of replacing them with glass... but of the wrong color, as you say.\"\n\nThat only annoyed her further. \"Your head may have glass eyes, but I do not. There are gargoyles on Dragonstone that look more like the Imp than this creature. He's bald, and twice my brother's age. What happened to his teeth?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man shrank before the fury in her voice. \"He had a fine set of gold teeth, Your Grace, but we... I regret...\"\n\n\"Oh, not yet. But you will.\" I ought to have him strangled. Let him gasp for breath until his face turns black, the way my sweet son did. The words were on her lips.\n\n\"An honest mistake. One dwarf looks so much like another, and... Your Grace will observe, he has no nose...\"\n\n\"He has no nose because you cut it off.\"\n\n\"No!\" The sweat on his brow gave the lie to his denial.\n\n\"Yes.\" A poisonous sweetness crept into Cersei's tone. \"At least you had that much sense. The last fool tried to tell me that a hedge wizard had regrown it. Still, it seems tome that you owe this dwarf a nose. House Lannister pays its debts, and so shall you. Ser Meryn, take this fraud to Qyburn.\"\n\nSer Meryn Trant took the Tyroshi by the arm and hauled him off, still protesting. When they were gone, Cersei turned to Osmund Kettleblack. \"Ser Osmund, get this thing out of my sight, and bring in the other three who claim knowledge of the Imp.\"\n\n\"Aye, Your Grace.\"\n\nSad to say, the three would-be informers proved no more useful than the Tyroshi. One said that the Imp was hiding in an Oldtown brothel, pleasuring men with his mouth. It made fora droll picture, but Cersei did not believe it for an instant. The second claimed to have seen the dwarf in a mummer's show in Braavos. The third insisted Tyrion had become a hermit in the riverlands, living on some haunted hill. The queen made the same response to each. \"If you will be so good as to lead some of my brave knights to this dwarf, you shall be richly rewarded,\" she promised. \"Provided that it is the Imp. If not... well, my knights have little patience for deception, nor fools who send them chasing after shadows. A man could lose his tongue.\" And quick as that, all three informers suddenly lost faith, and allowed that perhaps it might have been some other dwarf they saw."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cersei had never realized there were so many dwarfs. \"Is the whole world overrun with these twisted little monsters?\" she complained, whilst the last of the informers was being ushered out. \"How many of them can there be?\"\n\n\"Fewer than there were,\" said Lady Merryweather. \"May I have the honor of accompanying Your Grace to court?\"\n\n\"If you can bear the tedium,\" said Cersei. \"Robert was a fool about most things, but he was right in one regard. It is wearisome work to rule a kingdom.\"\n\n\"It saddens me to see Your Grace so careworn. I say, runoff and play and leave the King's Hand to hear these tiresome petitions. We could dress as serving girls and spend the day amongst the smallfolk, to hear what they are saying of the fall of Dragonstone. I know the inn where the Blue Bard plays when he is not singing attendance on the little queen, and a certain cellar where a conjurer turns lead into gold, water into wine, and girls into boys. Perhaps he would work his spells on the two of us. Would it amuse Your Grace to be a man one night?\"\n\nIf I were a man I would be Jaime, the queen thought. If I were a man I could rule this realm in my own name in place of Tommen's. \"Only if you remained a woman,\" she said, knowing that was what Taena wanted to hear. \"You area wicked thing to tempt me so, but what sort of queen would I be if I put my realm in the trembling hands of Harys Swyft?\"\n\nTaena pouted. \"Your Grace is too diligent.\"\n\n\"I am,\" Cersei allowed, \"and by day's end I shall rue it.\" She slipped her arm through Lady Merryweather's. \"Come.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jalabhar Xho was the first to petition her that day, as befit his rank as a prince in exile."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Splendid as he looked in his bright feathered cloak, he had only come to beg. Cersei let him make his usual plea for men and arms to help him regain Red Flower Vale, then said, \"His Grace is fighting his own war, Prince Jalabhar. He has no men to spare for yours just now. Next year, perhaps.\" That was what Robert always told him. Next year she would tell him never, but not today. Dragonstone washers.\n\nLord Hallyne of the Guild of Alchemists presented himself, to ask that his pyromancers be allowed to hatch any dragon's eggs that might turn up upon Dragonstone, now that the isle was safely back in royal hands. \"If any such eggs remained, Stannis would have sold them to pay for his rebellion,\" the queen told him. She refrained from saying that the plan was mad. Ever since the last Targaryen dragon had died, all such attempts had ended in death, disaster, or disgrace.\n\nA group of merchants appeared before her to beg the throne to intercede for them with the Iron Bank of Braavos. The Braavosi were demanding repayment of their outstanding debts, it seemed, and refusing all new loans. We need our own bank, Cersei decided, the Golden Bank of Lannisport. Perhaps when Tommen's throne was secure, she could make that happen. For the nonce, all she could do was tell the merchants to pay the Braavosi usurers their due.\n\nThe delegation from the Faith was headed by her old friend Septon Raynard. Six of the Warrior's Sons escorted him across the city; together they were seven, a holy and propitious number. The new High Septon-or High Sparrow, as Moon Boy had dubbed him-did everything by sevens. The knights wore swordbelts striped in the seven colors of the Faith. Crystals adorned the pommels of their longswords and the crests of their greathelms. They carried kite shields of a style not common since the Conquest, displaying a device not seen in the Seven Kingdoms for centuries: a rainbow sword shining bright upon afield of darkness. Close to a hundred knights had already come forth to pledge their lives and swords to the Warrior's Sons, Qyburn claimed, and more turned up everyday. Drunk on the gods, the lot of them. Who would have thought the realm contained so many of them?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Most had been household knights and hedge knights, but a handful were of high birth; younger sons, petty lords, old men wanting to atone for the old sins."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And then there was Lancel. She had thought Qyburn must be japing when he had told her that her mooncalf cousin had forsaken castle, lands, and wife and wandered back to the city to join the Noble and Puissant Order of the Warrior's Sons, yet there he stood with the other pious fools.\n\nCersei liked that not at all. Nor was she pleased by the High Sparrow's endless truculence and ingratitude. \"Where is the High Septon?\" she demanded of Raynard. \"It was him I summoned.\"\n\nSepton Raynard assumed a regretful tone. \"His High Holiness sent me in his stead, and bade me tell Your Grace that the Seven have sent him forth to battle wickedness.\"\n\n\"How? By preaching chastity along the Street of Silk? Does he think praying over whores will turn them back to virgins?\"\n\n\"Our bodies were shaped by our Father and Mother so we might join male to female and beget trueborn children,\" Raynard replied. \"It is base and sinful for women to sell their holy parts for coin.\"\n\nThe pious sentiment would have been more convincing if the queen had not known that Septon Raynard had special friends in every brothel on the Street of Silk. No doubt he had decided that echoing the High Sparrow's twitterings was preferable to scrubbing floors. \"Do not presume to preach at me,\" she told him. \"The brothel keepers have been complaining, and rightly so.\"\n\n\"If sinners speak, why should the righteous listen?\"\n\n\"These sinners feed the royal coffers,\" the queen said bluntly, \"and their pennies help pay the wages of my gold cloaks and build galleys to defend our shores. There is trade to be considered as well. If King's Landing had no brothels, the ships would go to Duskendale or Gulltown. His High Holiness promised me peace in my streets. Whoring helps to keep that peace. Common men deprived of whores are apt to turn to rape. Henceforth let His High Holiness do his praying in the sept where it belongs.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The queen had expected to hear from Lord Gyles as well, but instead Grand Maester Pycelle appeared, grey-faced and apologetic, to tell her that Rosby was too weak to leave his bed. \"Sad to say, I fear Lord Gyles must join his noble forebears soon. May the Father judge him justly.\"\n\nIf Rosby dies, Mace Tyrell and the little queen will try and force Garth the Gross on me again. \"Lord Gyles has had that cough for years, and it never killed him before,\" she complained. \"He coughed through half of Robert's reign and all of Joffrey's. If he is dying now, it can only be because someone wants him dead.\"\n\nGrand Maester Pycelle blinked in disbelief. \"Your Grace? Wh-who would want Lord Gyles dead?\"\n\n\"His heir, perhaps.\" Or the little queen. \"Some woman he once scorned.\" Margaery and Mace and the Queen of Thorns, why not? Gyles is in their way. \"An old enemy. Anew one. You.\"\n\nThe old man blanched. \"Y-your Grace japes. I... I have purged his lordship, bled him, treated him with poultices and infusions... the mists give him some relief and sweetsleep helps with the violence of his coughing, but he is bringing up bits of lung with the blood now, I fear.\"\n\n\"Be that as it may. You will return to Lord Gyles and inform him that he does not have my leave to die.\"\n\n\"If it please Your Grace.\" Pycelle bowed stiffly.\n\nThere was more, and more, and more, each petitioner more boring than the last. And that evening, when the last of them had finally gone and she was eating a simple supper with her son, she told him, \"Tommen, when you say your prayers before bed, tell the Mother and the Father that you are thankful you are still a child. Being king is hard work. I promise you, you will not like it. They peck at you like a murder of crows. Everyone wants apiece of your flesh.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Yes, Mother,\" said Tommen, in a sad tone."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The little queen had told him of Ser Loras, she understood. Ser Osmund said the boy had wept. He is young. By the time he is Joff's age he will not recall what Loras looked like. \"I wouldn't mind them pecking, though,\" her son went onto say. \"I should go to court with you everyday, to listen. Margaery says-\"\n\n\"-a deal too much,\" Cersei snapped. \"For half a groat I'd gladly have her tongue torn out.\"\n\n\"Don't you say that,\" Tommen shouted suddenly, his round little face turning red. \"You leave her tongue alone. Don't you touch her. I'm the king, not you.\"\n\nShe stared at him, incredulous. \"What did you say?\"\n\n\"I'm the king. I get to say who has their tongues torn out, not you. I won't let you hurt Margaery. I won't. I forbid it.\"\n\nCersei took him by the ear and dragged him squealing to the door, where she found Ser Boros Blount standing guard. \"Ser Boros, His Grace has forgotten himself. Kindly escort him to his bedchamber and bring up Pate. This time I want Tommen to whip the boy himself. He is to continue until the boy is bleeding from both cheeks. If His Grace refuses, or says one word of protest, summon Qyburn and tell him to remove Pate's tongue, so His Grace can learn the cost of insolence.\"\n\n\"As you command,\" Ser Boros huffed, glancing at the king uneasily. \"Your Grace, please come with me.\"\n\nAs night fell over the Red Keep, Jocelyn kindled afire in the queen's hearth whilst Dorcas lit the bedside candles. Cersei opened the window fora breath of air, and found that the clouds had rolled back into hide the stars. \"Such a dark night, Your Grace,\" murmured Dorcas."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aye, she thought, but not so dark as in the Maidenvault, or on Dragonstone where Loras Tyrell lies burned and bleeding, or down in the black cells beneath the castle. The queen did not know why that occurred to her. She had resolved not to give Falyse another thought. Single combat. Falyse should have known better than to marry such a fool. The word from Stokeworth was that Lady Tanda had died of a chill in the chest, brought on by her broken hip. Lollys Lackwit had been proclaimed Lady Stokeworth, with Ser Bronn her lord. Tanda dead and Gyles dying. It is well that we have Moon Boy, or the court would be entirely bereft of fools. The queen smiled as she lay her head upon the pillow. When I kissed her cheek, I could taste the salt of her tears.\n\nShe dreamt an old dream, of three girls in brown cloaks, a wattled crone, and a tent that smelled of death.\n\nThe crone's tent was dark, with a tall peaked roof. She did not want to go in, no more than she had wanted to at ten, but the other girls were watching her, so she could not turn away. They were three in the dream, as they had been in life. Fat Jeyne Farman hung back as she always did. It was a wonder she had come this far. Melara Hetherspoon was bolder, older, and prettier, in a freckly sort of way. Wrapped in roughspun cloaks with their hoods pulled up, the three of them had stolen from their beds and crossed the tourney grounds to seek the sorceress. Melara had heard the serving girls whispering how she could curse a manor make him fall in love, summon demons and foretell the future."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In life the girls had been breathless and giddy, whispering to each other as they went, as excited as they were afraid. The dream was different. In the dream the pavilions were shadowed, and the knights and serving men they passed were made of mist. The girls wandered fora long while before they found the crone's tent. By the time they did all the torches were guttering out. Cersei watched the girls huddling, whispering to one another. Go back, she tried to tell them. Turn away. There is nothing here for you. But though she moved her mouth, no words came out.\n\nLord Tywin's daughter was the first through the flap, with Melara close behind her. Jeyne Farman came last, and tried to hide behind the other two, the way she always did.\n\nThe inside of the tent was full of smells. Cinnamon and nutmeg. Pepper, red and white and black. Almond milk and onions. Cloves and lemongrass and precious saffron, and stranger spices, rarer still. The only light came from an iron brazier shaped like a basilisk's head, a dim green light that made the walls of the tent look cold and dead and rotten. Had it been that way in life as well? Cersei could not seem to remember.\n\nThe sorceress was sleeping in the dream, as once she'd slept in life. Leave her be, the queen wanted to cry out. You little fools, never wake a sleeping sorceress. Without a tongue, she could only watch as the girl threw off her cloak, kicked the witch's bed, and said, \"Wake up, we want our futures told.\"\n\nWhen Maggy the Frog opened her eyes, Jeyne Farman gave a frightened squeak and fled the tent, plunging headlong back into the night. Plump stupid timid little Jeyne, pasty-faced and fat and scared of every shadow. She was the wise one, though. Jeyne lived on Fair Isle still. She had married one of her lord brother's bannermen and whelped a dozen children."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The old woman's eyes were yellow, and crusted all about with something vile. In Lannisport it was said that she had been young and beautiful when her husband had brought her back from the east with a load of spices, but age and evil had left their marks on her. She was short, squat, and warty, with pebbly greenish jowls. Her teeth were gone and her dugs hung down to her knees. You could smell sickness on her if you stood too close, and when she spoke her breath was strange and strong and foul. \"Begone,\" she told the girls, in a croaking whisper.\n\n\"We came fora foretelling,\" young Cersei told her.\n\n\"Begone,\" croaked the old woman, a second time.\n\n\"We heard that you can see into the morrow,\" said Melara. \"We just want to know what men we're going to marry.\"\n\n\"Begone,\" croaked Maggy, a third time.\n\nListen to her, the queen would have cried if she had her tongue. You still have time to flee. Run, you little fools!\n\nThe girl with the golden curls put her hands upon her hips. \"Give us our foretelling, or I'll go to my lord father and have you whipped for insolence.\"\n\n\"Please,\" begged Melara. \"Just tell us our futures, then we'll go.\"\n\n\"Some are here who have no futures,\" Maggy muttered in her terrible deep voice. She pulled her robe about her shoulders and beckoned the girls closer. \"Come, if you will not go. Fools. Come, yes. I must taste your blood.\"\n\nMelara paled, but not Cersei. A lioness does not fear a frog, no matter how old and ugly she might be. She should have gone, she should have listened, she should have runaway. Instead she took the dagger Maggy offered her, and ran the twisted iron blade across the ball of her thumb. Then she did Melara too."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In the dim green tent, the blood seemed more black than red."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Maggy's toothless mouth trembled at the sight of it. \"Here,\" she whispered, \"give it here.\" When Cersei offered her hand, she sucked away the blood with gums as soft as a newborn babe's. The queen could still remember how queer and cold her mouth had been.\n\n\"Three questions may you ask,\" the crone said, once she'd had her drink. \"You will not like my answers. Ask, or begone with you.\"\n\nGo, the dreaming queen thought, hold your tongue, and flee. But the girl did not have sense enough to be afraid.\n\n\"When will I wed the prince?\" she asked.\n\n\"Never. You will wed the king.\"\n\nBeneath her golden curls, the girl's face wrinkled up in puzzlement. For years after, she took those words to mean that she would not marry Rhaegar until after his father Aerys had died. \"I will be queen, though?\" asked the younger her.\n\n\"Aye.\" Malice gleamed in Maggy's yellow eyes. \"Queen you shall be... until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.\"\n\nAnger flashed across the child's face. \"If she tries I will have my brother kill her.\" Even then she would not stop, willful child as she was. She still had one more question due her, one more glimpse into her life to come. \"Will the king and I have children?\" she asked.\n\n\"Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you.\"\n\nThat made no sense to Cersei. Her thumb was throbbing where she'd cut it, and her blood was dripping on the carpet. How could that be? she wanted to ask, but she was done with her questions."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The old woman was not done with her, however."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds,\" she said. \"And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.\"\n\n\"What is a valonqar? Some monster?\" The golden girl did not like that foretelling. \"You're a liar and a warty frog and a smelly old savage, and I don't believe a word of what you say. Come away, Melara. She is not worth hearing.\"\n\n\"I get three questions too,\" her friend insisted. And when Cersei tugged upon her arm, she wriggled free and turned back to the crone. \"Will I marry Jaime?\" she blurted out.\n\nYou stupid girl, the queen thought, angry even now. Jaime does not even know you are alive. Back then her brother lived only for swords and dogs and horses... and for her, his twin.\n\n\"Not Jaime, nor any other man,\" said Maggy. \"Worms will have your maidenhead. Your death is here tonight, little one. Can you smell her breath? She is very close.\"\n\n\"The only breath we smell is yours,\" said Cersei. There was ajar of some thick potion by her elbow, sitting on a table. She snatched it up and threw it into the old woman's eyes. In life the crone had screamed at them in some queer foreign tongue, and cursed them as they fled her tent. But in the dream her face dissolved, melting away into ribbons of grey mist until all that remained were two squinting yellow eyes, the eyes of death.\n\nThe valonqar shall wrap his hands about your throat, the queen heard, but the voice did not belong to the old woman. The hands emerged from the mists of her dream and coiled around her neck; thick hands, and strong. Above them floated his face, leering down at her with his mismatched eyes. No, the queen tried to cry out, but the dwarf's fingers dug deep into her neck, choking off her protests. She kicked and screamed to no avail. Before long she was making the same sound her son had made, the terrible thin sucking sound that marked Joff's last breath on earth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She woke gasping in the dark with her blanket wound about her neck. Cersei wrenched it off so violently that it tore, and sat up with her breasts heaving. A dream, she told herself, an old dream and a tangled coverlet, that's all it was.\n\nTaena was spending the night with the little queen again, so it was Dorcas asleep beside her. The queen shook the girl roughly by the shoulder. \"Wake up, and find Pycelle. He'll be with Lord Gyles, I expect. Fetch him here at once.\" Still half asleep, Dorcas stumbled from the bed and went scampering across the chamber for her clothing, her bare feet rustling on the rushes.\n\nAges later, Grand Maester Pycelle entered shuffling, and stood before her with bowed head, blinking his heavy-lidded eyes and struggling not to yawn. He looked as if the weight of the huge maester's chain about his wattled neck was dragging him down to the floor. Pycelle had been old as far back as Cersei could remember, but there was a time when he had also been magnificent: richly clad, dignified, exquisitely courteous. His immense white beard had given him an air of wisdom. Tyrion had shaved his beard off, though, and what had grown back was pitiful, a few patchy tufts of thin, brittle hair that did little to hide the loose pink flesh beneath his sagging chin. This is no man, she thought, only the ruins of one. The black cells robbed him of whatever strength he had. That, and the Imp's razor.\n\n\"How old are you?\" Cersei asked, abruptly.\n\n\"Four-and-eighty, if it please Your Grace.\"\n\n\"A younger man would please me more.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His tongue flicked across his lips. \"I was but two-and-forty when the Conclave called me. Kaeth was eighty when they chose him, and Ellendor was nigh on ninety. The cares of office crushed them, and both were dead within a year of being raised. Merion came next, only six-and-sixty, but he died of a chill on his way to King's Landing. Afterward King Aegon asked the Citadel to send a younger man. He was the first king I served.\"\n\nAnd Tommen shall be the last. \"I need a potion from you. Something to help me sleep.\"\n\n\"A cup of wine before bed will oft-\"\n\n\"I drink wine, you witless cretin. I require something stronger. Something that will not let me dream.\"\n\n\"You... Your Grace does not wish to dream?\"\n\n\"What did I just say? Have your ears grown as feeble as your cock? Can you make me such a potion, or must I command Lord Qyburn to rectify another of your failures?\"\n\n\"No. There is no need to involve that... to involve Qyburn. Dreamless sleep. You shall have your potion.\"\n\n\"Good. You may go.\" Ashe turned toward the door, though, she called him back. \"One more thing. What does the Citadel teach concerning prophecy? Can our morrows be foretold?\"\n\nThe old man hesitated. One wrinkled hand groped blindly at his chest, as if to stroke the beard that was not there. \"Can our morrows be foretold?\" he repeated slowly. \"Mayhaps. There are certain spells in the old books... but Your Grace might ask instead, \"Should our morrows be foretold?\" And to that I should answer, \"No.\" Some doors are best left closed.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"See that you close mine as you leave.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She should have known that he would give her an answer as useless as he was.\n\nThe next morning she broke her fast with Tommen. The boy seemed much subdued; ministering to Pate had served its purpose, it would seem. They ate fried eggs, fried bread, bacon, and some blood oranges newly come by ship from Dorne. Her son was attended by his kittens. As she watched the cats frolic about his feet, Cersei felt a little better. No harm will ever come to Tommen whilst I still live. She would kill half the lords in Westeros and all the common people, if that was what it took to keep him safe. \"Go with Jocelyn,\" she told the boy after they had eaten.\n\nThen she sent for Qyburn. \"Is Lady Falyse still alive?\"\n\n\"Alive, yes. Perhaps not entirely... comfortable.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Cersei considered a moment. \"This man Bronn... I cannot say I like the notion of an enemy so close. His power all derives from Lollys. If we were to produce her elder sister...\"\n\n\"Alas,\" said Qyburn. \"I fear that Lady Falyse is no longer capable of ruling Stokeworth. Or, indeed, of feeding herself. I have learned a great deal from her, I am pleased to say, but the lessons have not been entirely without cost. I hope I have not exceeded Your Grace's instructions.\"\n\n\"No.\" Whatever she had intended, it was too late. There was no sense dwelling on such things. It is better if she dies, she told herself. She would not want to goon living without her husband. Oaf that he was, the fool seemed fond of him. \"There is another matter. Last night I had a dreadful dream.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"All men are so afflicted, from time to time.\"\n\n\"This dream concerned a witch woman I visited as a child.\"\n\n\"A woods witch? Most are harmless creatures. They know a little herb-craft and some midwifery, but elsewise...\"\n\n\"She was more than that. Half of Lannisport used to go to her for charms and potions. She was mother to a petty lord, a wealthy merchant upjumped by my grandsire. This lord's father had found her whilst trading in the east. Some say she cast a spell on him, though more like the only charm she needed was the one between her thighs. She was not always hideous, or so they said. I don't recall the woman's name. Something long and eastern and outlandish. The smallfolk used to call her Maggy.\"\n\n\"Maegi?\"\n\n\"Is that how you say it? The woman would suck a drop of blood from your finger, and tell you what your morrows held.\"\n\n\"Bloodmagic is the darkest kind of sorcery. Some say it is the most powerful as well.\"\n\nCersei did not want to hear that. \"This maegi made certain prophecies. I laughed at them at first, but... she foretold the death of one of my bedmaids. At the time she made the prophecy, the girl was one-and-ten, healthy as a little horse and safe within the Rock. Yet she soon fell down a well and drowned.\" Melara had begged her never to speak of the things they heard that night in the maegi \"s tent. If we never talk about it we'll soon forget, and then it will be just a bad dream we had, Melara had said. Bad dreams never come true. The both of them had been so young, that had sounded almost wise."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you still grieve for this friend of your childhood?\" Qyburn asked. \"Is that what troubles you, Your Grace?\"\n\n\"Melara? No. I can hardly recall what she looked like. It is just... the maegi knew how many children I would have, and she knew of Robert's bastards. Years before he'd sired even the first of them, she knew. She promised me I should be queen, but said another queen would come...\" Younger and more beautiful, she said. \"... another queen, who would take from me all I loved.\"\n\n\"And you wish to forestall this prophecy?\"\n\nMore than anything, she thought. \"Can it be forestalled?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. Never doubt that.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"I think Your Grace knows how.\"\n\nShe did. I knew it all along, she thought. Even in the tent. \"If she tries I will have my brother kill her.\"\n\nKnowing what needed to be done was one thing, though; knowing how to do it was another. Jaime could no longer be relied on. A sudden sickness would be best, but the gods were seldom so obliging. How then? A knife, a pillow, a cup of heart's bane? All of those posed problems. When an old man died in his sleep no one thought twice of it, but a girl of six-and-ten found dead in bed was certain to raise awkward questions. Besides, Margaery never slept alone. Even with Ser Loras dying, there were swords about her night and day.\n\nSwords have two edges, though. The very men who guard her could be used to bring her down. The evidence would need to be so overwhelming that even Margaery's own lord father would have no choice but to consent to her execution. That would not be easy. Her lovers are not like to confess, knowing it would mean their heads as well as hers. Unless..."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 39"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you still grieve for this friend of your childhood?\" Qyburn asked. \"Is that what troubles you, Your Grace?\"\n\n\"Melara? No. I can hardly recall what she looked like. It is just... the maegi knew how many children I would have, and she knew of Robert's bastards. Years before he'd sired even the first of them, she knew. She promised me I should be queen, but said another queen would come...\" Younger and more beautiful, she said. \"... another queen, who would take from me all I loved.\"\n\n\"And you wish to forestall this prophecy?\"\n\nMore than anything, she thought. \"Can it be forestalled?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. Never doubt that.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"I think Your Grace knows how.\"\n\nShe did. I knew it all along, she thought. Even in the tent. \"If she tries I will have my brother kill her.\"\n\nKnowing what needed to be done was one thing, though; knowing how to do it was another. Jaime could no longer be relied on. A sudden sickness would be best, but the gods were seldom so obliging. How then? A knife, a pillow, a cup of heart's bane? All of those posed problems. When an old man died in his sleep no one thought twice of it, but a girl of six-and-ten found dead in bed was certain to raise awkward questions. Besides, Margaery never slept alone. Even with Ser Loras dying, there were swords about her night and day.\n\nSwords have two edges, though. The very men who guard her could be used to bring her down. The evidence would need to be so overwhelming that even Margaery's own lord father would have no choice but to consent to her execution. That would not be easy. Her lovers are not like to confess, knowing it would mean their heads as well as hers. Unless..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The next day the queen came on Osmund Kettleblack in the yard, as he was sparring with one of the Redwyne twins."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Which one she could not say; she had never been able to tell the two of them apart. She watched the swordplay fora while, then called Ser Osmund aside. \"Walk with me a bit,\" she said, \"and tell me true. I want no empty boasting now, no talk of how a Kettleblack is thrice as good as any other knight. Much may ride upon your answer. Your brother Osney. How good a sword is he?\"\n\n\"Good. You've seen him. He's not as strong as me nor Osfryd, but he's quick to the kill.\"\n\n\"If it came to it, could he defeat Ser Boros Blount?\"\n\n\"Boros the Belly?\" Ser Osmund chortled. \"He's what, forty? Fifty? Half-drunk half the time, fat even when he's sober. If he ever had a taste for battle, he's lost it. Aye, Your Grace, if Ser Boros wants for killing, Osney could do it easy enough. Why? Has Boros done some treason?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said. But Osney has."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "BRIENNE\n\nThey came upon the first corpse a mile from the crossroads.\n\nHe swung beneath the limb of a dead tree whose blackened trunk still bore the scars of the lightning that had killed it. The carrion crows had been at work on his face, and wolves had feasted on his lower legs where they dangled near the ground. Only bones and rags remained below his knees... along with one well-chewed shoe, half-covered by mud and mold.\n\n\"What does he have in his mouth?\" asked Podrick.\n\nBrienne had to steel herself to look. His face was grey and green and ghastly, his mouth open and distended. Someone had shoved a jagged white rock between his teeth. A rock, or...\n\n\"Salt,\" said Septon Meribald.\n\nFifty yards farther on they spied the second body. The scavengers had torn him down, so what remained of him was strewn on the ground beneath a frayed rope looped about the limb of an elm. Brienne might have ridden past him, unawares, if Dog had not sniffed him out and loped into the weeds fora closer smell.\n\n\"What do you have there, Dog?\" Ser Hyle dismounted, strode after the dog, and came up with a halfhelm. The dead man's skull was still inside it, along with some worms and beetles. \"Good steel,\" he pronounced, \"and not too badly dinted, though the lion's lost his head. Pod, would you like a helm?\"\n\n\"Not that one. It's got worms in it.\"\n\n\"Worms washout, lad. You're squeamish as a girl.\"\n\nBrienne scowled at him. \"It is too big for him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He'll grow into it.\"\n\n\"I don't want to,\" said Podrick. Ser Hyle shrugged, and tossed the broken helm back into the weeds, lion crest and all. Dog barked and went to lift his leg against the tree.\n\nAfter that, hardly a hundred yards went by without a corpse. They dangled under ash and alder, beech and birch, larch and elm, hoary old willows and stately chestnut trees. Each man wore a noose around his neck, and swung from a length of hempen rope, and each man's mouth was packed with salt. Some wore cloaks of grey or blue or crimson, though rain and sun had faded them so badly that it was hard to tell one color from another. Others had badges sewn on their breasts. Brienne spied axes, arrows, several salmon, a pine tree, an oak leaf, beetles, bantams, a boar's head, half a dozen tridents. Broken men, she realized, dregs from a dozen armies, the leavings of the lords.\n\nSome of the dead men had been bald and some bearded, some young and some old, some short, some tall, some fat, some thin. Swollen in death, with faces gnawed and rotten, they all looked the same. On the gallows tree, all men are brothers. Brienne had read that in a book, though she could not recall which one.\n\nIt was Hyle Hunt who finally put words to what all of them had realized. \"These are the men who raided Saltpans.\"\n\n\"May the Father judge them harshly,\" said Meribald, who had been a friend to the town's aged septon.\n\nWho they were did not concern Brienne half so much as who had hanged them. The noose was the preferred method of execution for Beric Dondarrion and his band of outlaws, it was said. If so, the so-called lightning lord might well be near."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dog barked, and Septon Meribald glanced about and frowned. \"Shall we keep a brisker pace? The sun will soon besetting, and corpses make poor company by night. These were dark and dangerous men, alive. I doubt that death will have improved them.\"\n\n\"There we disagree,\" said Ser Hyle. \"These are just the sort of fellows who are most improved by death.\" All the same, he put his heels into his horse, and they moved a little faster.\n\nFarther on the trees began to thin, though not the corpses. The woods gave way to muddy fields, tree limbs to gibbets. Clouds of crows rose screeching from the bodies as the travelers came near, and settled again once they had passed. These were evil men, Brienne reminded herself, yet the sight still made her sad. She forced herself to look at every man in turn, searching for familiar faces. A few she thought she recognized from Harrenhal, but their condition made it hard to be certain. None had a hound's head helm, but few had helms of any sort. Most had been stripped of arms, armor, and boots before they were strung up.\n\nWhen Podrick asked the name of the inn where they hoped to spend the night, Septon Meribald seized upon the question eagerly, perhaps to take their minds off the grisly sentinels along the roadside. \"The Old Inn, some call it. There has been an inn therefor many hundreds of years, though this inn was only raised during the reign of the first Jaehaerys, the king who built the kingsroad. Jaehaerys and his queen slept there during their journeys, it is said. Fora time the inn was known as the Two Crowns in their honor, until one innkeep built a bell tower, and changed it to the Bellringer Inn. Later it passed to a crippled knight named Long Jon Heddle, who took up ironworking when he grew too old to fight. He forged anew sign for the yard, a three-headed dragon of black iron that he hung from a wooden post. The beast was so big it had to be made in a dozen pieces, joined with rope and wire. When the wind blew it would clank and clatter, so the inn became known far and wide as the Clanking Dragon.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Is the dragon sign still there?\" asked Podrick.\n\n\"No,\" said Septon Meribald. \"When the smith's son was an old man, a bastard son of the fourth Aegon rose up in rebellion against his trueborn brother and took for his sigil a black dragon. These lands belonged to Lord Darry then, and his lordship was fiercely loyal to the king. The sight of the black iron dragon made him wroth, so he cut down the post, hacked the sign into pieces, and cast them into the river. One of the dragon's heads washed upon the Quiet Isle many years later, though by that time it was red with rust. The innkeep never hung another sign, so men forgot the dragon and took to calling the place the River Inn. In those days, the Trident flowed beneath its backdoor, and half its rooms were built out over the water. Guests could throw a line out their window and catch trout, it's said. There was a ferry landing here as well, so travelers could cross to Lord Harroway's Town and Whitewalls.\"\n\n\"We left the Trident south of here, and have been riding north and west... not toward the river but away from it.\"\n\n\"Aye, my lady,\" the septon said. \"The river moved. Seventy years ago, it was. Or was it eighty? It was when old Masha Heddle's grandfather kept the place. It washer who told me all this history. A kindly woman, Masha, fond of sourleaf and honey cakes. When she did not have a room for me, she would let me sleep beside the hearth, and she never sent me on my way without some bread and cheese and a few stale cakes.\"\n\n\"Is she the innkeep now?\" asked Podrick."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No. The lions hanged her. After they moved on, I heard that one of her nephews tried opening the inn again, but the wars had made the roads too dangerous for common folk to travel, so there was little custom. He brought in whores, but even that could not save him. Some lord killed him as well, I hear.\"\n\nSer Hyle made awry face. \"I never dreamed that keeping an inn could be so deadly dangerous.\"\n\n\"It is being common-born that is dangerous, when the great lords play their game of thrones,\" said Septon Meribald. \"Isn't that so, Dog?\" Dog barked agreement.\n\n\"So,\" said Podrick, \"does the inn have a name now?\"\n\n\"The smallfolk call it the crossroads inn. Elder Brother told me that two of Masha Heddle's nieces have opened it to trade once again.\" He raised his staff. \"If the gods are good, that smoke rising beyond the hanged men will be from its chimneys.\"\n\n\"They could call the place the Gallows Inn,\" Ser Hyle said.\n\nBy any name the inn was large, rising three stories above the muddy roads, its walls and turrets and chimneys made of fine white stone that glimmered pale and ghostly against the grey sky. Its south wing had been built upon heavy wooden pilings above a cracked and sunken expanse of weeds and dead brown grass. A thatch-roofed stable and a bell tower were attached to the north side. The whole sprawl was surrounded by a low wall of broken white stones overgrown by moss.\n\nAt least no one has burned it down. At Saltpans, they had found only death and desolation. By the time Brienne and her companions were ferried over from the Quiet Isle, the survivors had fled and the dead had been given to the ground, but the corpse of the town itself remained, ashen and unburied. The air still smelled of smoke, and the cries of the seagulls floating overhead sounded almost human, like the lamentations of lost children. Even the castle had seemed forlorn and abandoned. Grey as the ashes of the town around it, the castle consisted of a square keep girded by a curtain wall, built so as to overlook the harbor. It was closed tight as Brienne and the others led their horses off the ferry, nothing moving on its battlements but banners. It took a quarter hour of Dog barking and Septon Meribald knocking on the front gate with his quarterstaff before a woman appeared above them to demand their business."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "By that time the ferry had departed and it had begun to rain. \"I am a holy septon, good lady,\" Meribald had shouted up, \"and these are honest travelers. We seek shelter from the rain, and a place by your fire for the night.\" The woman had been unmoved by his appeals. \"The closest inn is at the crossroads, to the west,\" she replied. \"We want no strangers here. Begone.\" Once she vanished, neither Meribald's prayers, Dog's barks, nor Ser Hyle's curses could bring her back. In the end they had spent the night in the woods, beneath a shelter made of woven branches.\n\nThere was life at the crossroads inn, though. Even before they reached the gate, Brienne heard the sound: a hammering, faint but steady. It had a steely ring.\n\n\"A forge,\" Ser Hyle said. \"Either they have themselves a smith, or the old innkeep's ghost is making another iron dragon.\" He put his heels into his horse. \"I hope they have a ghostly cook as well. A crisp roast chicken would set the world aright.\"\n\nThe inn's yard was a sea of brown mud that sucked at the hooves of the horses. The clang of steel was louder here, and Brienne saw the red glow of the forge down past the far end of the stables, behind an oxcart with a broken wheel. She could see horses in the stables too, and a small boy was swinging from the rusted chains of the weathered gibbet that loomed above the yard. Four girls stood on the inn's porch, watching him. The youngest was no more than two, and naked. The oldest, nine or ten, stood with her arms protectively about the little one. \"Girls,\" Ser Hyle called to them, \"run and fetch your mother.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The boy dropped from the chain and dashed off toward the stables."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The four girls stood fidgeting. After a moment one said, \"We have no mothers,\" and another added, \"I had one but they killed her.\" The oldest of the four stepped forward, pushing the little one behind her skirts. \"Who are you?\" she demanded.\n\n\"Honest travelers seeking shelter. My name is Brienne, and this is Septon Meribald, who is well-known through the riverlands. The boy is my squire, Podrick Payne, the knight Ser Hyle Hunt.\"\n\nThe hammering stopped suddenly. The girl on the porch looked them over, wary as only a ten-year-old can be. \"I'm Willow. Will you be wanting beds?\"\n\n\"Beds, and ale, and hot food to fill our bellies,\" said Ser Hyle Hunt as he dismounted. \"Are you the innkeep?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"That's my sister Jeyne. She's not here. All we have to eat is horse meat. If you come for whores, there are none. My sister run them off. We have beds, though. Some featherbeds, but more are straw.\"\n\n\"And all have fleas, I don't doubt,\" said Ser Hyle.\n\n\"Do you have coin to pay? Silver?\"\n\nSer Hyle laughed. \"Silver? Fora night's bed and a haunch of horse? Do you mean to rob us, child?\"\n\n\"We'll have silver. Else you can sleep in the woods with the dead men.\" Willow glanced toward the donkey, and the casks and bundles on his back. \"Is that food? Where did you get it?\"\n\n\"Maidenpool,\" said Meribald. Dog barked.\n\n\"Do you question all your guests this way?\" asked Ser Hyle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We don't have so many guests."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not like before the war. It's mostly sparrows on the roads these days, or worse.\"\n\n\"Worse?\" Brienne asked.\n\n\"Thieves,\" said a boy's voice from the stables. \"Robbers.\"\n\nBrienne turned, and saw a ghost.\n\nRenly. No hammerblow to the heart could have felled her half so hard. \"My lord?\" she gasped.\n\n\"Lord?\" The boy pushed back a lock of black hair that had fallen across his eyes. \"I'm just a smith.\"\n\nHe is not Renly, Brienne realized. Renly is dead. Renly died in my arms, a man of one-and-twenty. This is a only a boy. A boy who looked as Renly had, the first time he came to Tarth. No, younger. His jaw is squarer, his brows bushier. Renly had been lean and lithe, whereas this boy had the heavy shoulders and muscular right arm so often seen on smiths. He wore along leather apron, but under it his chest was bare. A dark stubble covered his cheeks and chin, and his hair was a thick black mop that grew down past his ears. King Renly's hair had been that same coal black, but his had always been washed and brushed and combed. Sometimes he cut it short, and sometimes he let it fall loose to his shoulders, or tied it back behind his head with a golden ribbon, but it was never tangled or matted with sweat. And though his eyes had been that same deep blue, Lord Renly's eyes had always been warm and welcoming, full of laughter, whereas this boy's eyes brimmed with anger and suspicion.\n\nSepton Meribald saw it too. \"We mean no harm, lad. When Masha Heddle owned this inn she always had a honey cake for me. Sometimes she even let me have abed, if the inn was not full.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"She's dead,\" the boy said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The lions hanged her.\"\n\n\"Hanging seems your favorite sport in these parts,\" said Ser Hyle Hunt. \"Would that I had some land hereabouts. I'd plant hemp, sell rope, and make my fortune.\"\n\n\"All these children,\" Brienne said to the girl Willow. \"Are they your... sisters? Brothers? Kin and cousins?\"\n\n\"No.\" Willow was staring at her, in away that she knew well. \"They're just... I don't know... the sparrows bring them here, sometimes. Others find their own way. If you're a woman, why are you dressed up like a man?\"\n\nSepton Meribald answered. \"Lady Brienne is a warrior maid upon a quest. Just now, though, she is in need of a dry bed and a warm fire. As are we all. My old bones say it's going to rain again, and soon. Do you have rooms for us?\"\n\n\"No,\" said the boy smith. \"Yes,\" said the girl Willow.\n\nThey glared atone another. Then Willow stomped her foot. \"They have food, Gendry. The little ones are hungry.\" She whistled, and more children appeared as if by magic; ragged boys with unshorn locks crept from under the porch, and furtive girls appeared in the windows overlooking the yard. Some clutched crossbows, wound and loaded.\n\n\"They could call it Crossbow Inn,\" Ser Hyle suggested.\n\nOrphan Inn would be more apt, thought Brienne.\n\n\"Wat, you help them with those horses,\" said Willow. \"Will, put down that rock, they've not come to hurt us. Tansy, Pate, run get some wood to feed the fire. Jon Penny, you help the septon with those bundles. I'll show them to some rooms.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the end they took three rooms adjoining one another, each boasting a featherbed, a chamber pot, and a window. Brienne's room had a hearth as well. She paid a few pennies more for some wood. \"Will I sleep in your room, or Ser Hyle's?\" Podrick asked as she was opening the shutters. \"This is not the Quiet Isle,\" she told him. \"You can stay with me.\" Come the morrow she meant for the two of them to strikeout on their own. Septon Meribald was going onto Nutten, Riverbend, and Lord Harroway's Town, but Brienne saw no sense in following him any farther. He had Dog to keep him company, and the Elder Brother had persuaded her that she would not find Sansa Stark along the Trident. \"I mean to rise before the sun comes up, whilst Ser Hyle is still sleeping.\" Brienne had not forgiven him for Highgarden... and as he himself had said, Hunt had sworn no vows concerning Sansa.\n\n\"Where will we go, ser? I mean, my lady?\"\n\nBrienne had no ready answer for him. They had come to the crossroads, quite literally; the place where the kingsroad, the river road, and the highroad all came together. The highroad would take them east through the mountains to the Vale of Arryn, where Lady Sansa's aunt had ruled until her death. West ran the river road, which followed the course of the Red Fork to Riverrun and Sansa's great-uncle, who was besieged but still alive. Or they could ride the kingsroad north, past the Twins and through the Neck with its bogs and marshes. If she could find away past Moat Cailin and whoever held it now, the kingsroad would bring them all the way to Winterfell."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Or I could take the kingsroad south, Brienne thought. I could slink back to King's Landing, confess my failure to Ser Jaime, give him back his sword, and find a ship to carry me home to Tarth, as the Elder Brother urged. The thought was a bitter one, yet there was part of her that yearned for Evenfall and her father, and another part that wondered if Jaime would comfort her should she weep upon his shoulder. That was what men wanted, wasn't it? Soft helpless women that they needed to protect?\n\n\"Ser? My lady? I asked, where are we going?\"\n\n\"Down to the common room, to supper.\"\n\nThe common room was crawling with children. Brienne tried to count them, but they would not standstill even for an instant, so she counted some of them twice or thrice and others not at all, until she finally gave it up. They had pushed the tables together in three long rows, and the older boys were wrestling benches from the back. Older here meant tenor twelve. Gendry was the closest thing to a man grown, but it was Willow shouting all the orders, as if she were a queen in her castle and the other children were no more than servants.\n\nIf she were highborn, command would come naturally to her, and deference to them. Brienne wondered whether Willow might be more than she appeared. The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister's beauty. Brown hair, brown eyes, skinny... could it be? Arya Stark's hair was brown, she recalled, but Brienne was not sure of the color of her eyes. Brown and brown, was that it? Could it be that she did not die at Saltpans after all?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Outside, the last light of day was fading."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Inside, Willow had four greasy tallow candles lit and told the girls to keep the hearthfire burning high and hot. The boys helped Podrick Payne unpack the donkey and carried in the salt cod, mutton, vegetables, nuts, and wheels of cheese, whilst Septon Meribald repaired to the kitchens to take charge of the porridge. \"Alas, my oranges are gone, and I doubt that I shall see another till the spring,\" he told one small boy. \"Have you ever had an orange, lad? Squeezed one and sucked down that fine juice?\" When the boy shook his head no, the septon mussed his hair. \"Then I'll bring you one, come spring, if you will be a good lad and help me stir the porridge.\"\n\nSer Hyle pulled off his boots to warm his feet by the fire. When Brienne sat down next to him, he nodded at the far end of the room. \"There are bloodstains on the floor over there where Dog is sniffing. They've been scrubbed, but the blood soaked deep into the wood, and there's no getting it out.\"\n\n\"This is the inn where Sandor Clegane killed three of his brother's men,\" she reminded him.\n\n\"\"Tis that,\" Hunt agreed, \"but who is to say that they were the first to die here... or that they'll be the last.\"\n\n\"Are you afraid of a few children?\"\n\n\"Four would be a few. Ten would be a surfeit. This is a cacophony. Children should be wrapped in swaddling clothes and hung upon the wall until the girls grow breasts and the boys are old enough to shave.\"\n\n\"I feel sorry for them. All of them have lost their mothers and fathers. Some have seen them slain.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hunt rolled his eyes. \"I forgot that I was talking to a woman. Your heart is as mushy as our septon's porridge. Can it be? Somewhere inside our swordswench is a mother just squirming to give birth. What you really want is a sweet pink babe to suckle at your teat.\" Ser Hyle grinned. \"You need a man for that, I hear. A husband, preferably. Why not me?\"\n\n\"If you still hope to win your wager-\"\n\n\"What I want to win is you, Lord Selwyn's only living child. I've known men towed lackwits and suckling babes for prizes a tenth the size of Tarth. I am not Renly Baratheon, I confess it, but I have the virtue of being still amongst the living. Some would say that is my only virtue. Marriage would serve the both of us. Lands for me, and a castle full of these for you.\" He waved his hand at the children. \"I am capable, I assure you. I've sired at least one bastard that I know of. Have no fear, I shan't inflict her upon you. The last time I went to see her, her mother doused me with a kettle of soup.\"\n\nA flush crept up her neck. \"My father's only four-and-fifty. Not too old towed again and get a son by his new wife.\"\n\n\"That's a risk... if your father weds again and if his bride proves fertile and if the babe's a boy. I've made worse wagers.\"\n\n\"And lost them. Play your game with someone else, ser.\"\n\n\"So speaks a maid who has never played the game with anyone. Once you do you'll take a different view. In the dark you'd be as beautiful as any other woman. Your lips were made for kissing.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They are lips,\" said Brienne. \"All lips are the same.\"\n\n\"And all lips are made for kissing,\" Hunt agreed pleasantly. \"Leave your chamber door unbarred tonight, and I will steal into your bed and prove the truth of what I say.\"\n\n\"If you do, you'll be a eunuch when you leave.\" Brienne got up and walked away from him.\n\nSepton Meribald asked if he might lead the children in a grace, ignoring the small girl crawling naked across the table. \"Aye,\" said Willow, snatching up the crawler before she reached the porridge. So they bowed their heads together and thanked the Father and the Mother for their bounty... all but the black-haired boy from the forge, who crossed his arms against his chest and sat glowering as the others prayed. Brienne was not the only one to notice. When the prayer was done Septon Meribald looked across the table, and said, \"Do you have no love for the gods, son?\"\n\n\"Not for your gods.\" Gendry stood abruptly. \"I have work to do.\" He stalked out without a bite of food.\n\n\"Is there some other god he loves?\" asked Hyle Hunt.\n\n\"The Lord of Light,\" piped one scrawny boy, nigh to six.\n\nWillow hit him with her spoon. \"Ben Big Mouth. There's food. You should be eating it, not bothering m'lords with talk.\"\n\nThe children fell upon the supper like wolves upon a wounded deer, quarreling over codfish, tearing the barley bread to pieces, and getting porridge everywhere. Even the huge wheel of cheese did not long survive. Brienne contented herself with fish and bread and carrots, whilst Septon Meribald fed two morsels to Dog for everyone he ate himself. Outside, a rain began to fall. Inside, the fire crackled, and the common room was filled by the sounds of chewing, and Willow smacking children with her spoon. \"One day that little girl will make some man a frightful wife,\" Ser Hyle observed. \"That poor 'prentice boy, most like.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Someone should take him some food before it's all gone.\"\n\n\"You're someone.\"\n\nShe wrapped a wedge of cheese, a heel of bread, a dried apple, and two chunks of flaky fried cod in a square of cloth. When Podrick got up to follow her outside, she told him to sit back down and eat. \"I will not belong.\"\n\nThe rain was coming down heavy in the yard. Brienne covered the food with a fold of her cloak. Some of the horses whinnied at her as she made her way past the stables. They are hungry too.\n\nGendry was at his forge, bare-chested beneath his leather apron. He was beating on a sword as if he wished it were a foe, his sweat-soaked hair falling across his brow. She watched him fora moment. He has Renly's eyes and Renly's hair, but not his build. Lord Renly was more lithe than brawny... not like his brother Robert, whose strength was fabled.\n\nIt was not until he stopped to wipe his brow that Gendry saw her standing there. \"What do you want?\"\n\n\"I brought supper.\" She opened the cloth for him to see.\n\n\"If I wanted food, I would have eaten some.\"\n\n\"A smith needs to eat to keep his strength up.\"\n\n\"Are you my mother?\"\n\n\"No.\" She put down the food. \"Who was your mother?\"\n\n\"What's that to you?\"\n\n\"You were born in King's Landing.\" The way he spoke made her certain of it.\n\n\"Me and many more.\" He plunged the sword into a tub of rainwater to quench it. The hot steel hissed angrily.\n\n\"How old are you?\" Brienne asked. \"Is your mother still alive? And your father, who was he?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You ask too many questions.\" He set down the sword. \"My mother's dead and I never knew my father.\"\n\n\"You're a bastard.\"\n\nHe took it for an insult. \"I'm a knight. That sword will be mine own, once it's done.\"\n\nWhat would a knight be doing working at a smithy? \"You have black hair and blue eyes, and you were born in the shadow of the Red Keep. Has no one ever remarked upon your face?\"\n\n\"What's wrong with my face? It's not as ugly as yours.\"\n\n\"In King's Landing you must have seen King Robert.\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Sometimes. At tourneys, from afar. Once at Baelor's Sept. The gold cloaks shoved us aside so he could pass. Another time I was playing near the Mud Gate when he comeback from a hunt. He was so drunk he almost rode me down. A big fat sot, he was, but a better king than these sons of his.\"\n\nThey are not his sons. Stannis told it true, that day he met with Renly. Joffrey and Tommen were never Robert's sons. This boy, though...\"Listen tome,\" Brienne began. Then she heard Dog barking, loud and frantic. \"Someone is coming.\"\n\n\"Friends,\" said Gendry, unconcerned.\n\n\"What sort of friends?\" Brienne moved to the door of the smithy to peer out through the rain.\n\nHe shrugged. \"You'll meet them soon enough.\"\n\nI may not want to meet them, Brienne thought, as the first riders came splashing through the puddles into the yard. Beneath the patter of the rain and Dog's barking, she could hear the faint clink of swords and mail from beneath their ragged cloaks. She counted them as they came. Two, four, six, seven. Some of them were wounded, judging from the way they rode. The last man was massive and hulking, as big as two of the others. His horse was blown and bloody, staggering beneath his weight. All the riders had their hoods up against the lashing rain, save him alone. His face was broad and hairless, maggot white, his round cheeks covered with weeping sores."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Brienne sucked in her breath and drew Oathkeeper. Too many, she thought, with a start of fear, they are too many. \"Gendry,\" she said in a low voice, \"you'll want a sword, and armor. These are not your friends. They're no one's friends.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\" The boy came and stood beside her, his hammer in his hand.\n\nLightning cracked to the south as the riders swung down off their horses. For half a heartbeat darkness turned today. An axe gleamed silvery blue, light shimmered off mail and plate, and beneath the dark hood of the lead rider Brienne glimpsed an iron snout and rows of steel teeth, snarling.\n\nGendry saw it too. \"Him.\"\n\n\"Not him. His helm.\" Brienne tried to keep the fear from her voice, but her mouth was dry as dust. She had a pretty good notion who wore the Hound's helm. The children, she thought.\n\nThe door to the inn banged open. Willow stepped out into the rain, a crossbow in her hands. The girl was shouting at the riders, but a clap of thunder rolled across the yard, drowning out her words. As it faded, Brienne heard the man in the Hound's helm say, \"Loose a quarrel at me and I'll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I'll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them.\" The fury in the man's voice drove Willow back a step, trembling.\n\nSeven, Brienne thought again, despairing. She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice.\n\nShe stepped out into the rain, Oathkeeper in hand. \"Leave her be. If you want to rape someone, try me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The oulaws turned as one. One laughed, and another said something in a tongue Brienne did not know. The huge one with the broad white face gave a malevolent hissssssssssssssss. The man in the Hound's helm began to laugh. \"You're even uglier than I remembered. I'd sooner rape your horse.\"\n\n\"Horses, that's what we want,\" one of the wounded men said. \"Fresh horses, and some food. There are outlaws after us. Give us your horses and we'll begone. We won't do you harm.\"\n\n\"Fuck that.\" The outlaw in the Hound's helm yanked a battleaxe off his saddle. \"I want to cut her bloody legs off. I'll set heron her stumps so she can watch me fuck the crossbow girl.\"\n\n\"With what?\" taunted Brienne. \"Shagwell said they cut your manhood off when they took your nose.\"\n\nShe meant it to provoke him, and it did. Bellowing curses, he came at her, his feet sending up splashes of black water as he charged. The others stood back to watch the show, as she had prayed they might. Brienne stayed as still as stone, waiting. The yard was dark, the mud slippery underfoot. Better to let him come tome. If the gods are good, he'll slip and fall.\n\nThe gods were not that good, but her sword was. Five steps, four steps, now, Brienne counted, and Oathkeeper swept up to meet his rush. Steel crashed against steel as her blade bit through his rags and opened a gash in his chain mail, even as his axe came crashing down at her. She twisted aside, slashing at his chest again as she retreated."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He followed, staggering and bleeding, roaring rage. \"Whore!\" he boomed. \"Freak! Bitch! I'll give you to my dog to fuck, you bloody bitch!\" His axe whirled in murderous arcs, a brutal black shadow that turned silver every time the lightning flashed. Brienne had no shield to catch the blows. All she could do was slide back away from him, darting this way and that as the axehead flew at her. Once the mud gave way under her heel and she almost fell, but somehow she recovered herself, though the axe grazed her left shoulder that time and left ablaze of pain in its wake. \"You got the bitch!\" one of the others called, and another said, \"Let's see her dance away from that one.\"\n\nDance she did, relieved that they were watching. Better that than have them interfere. She could not fight seven, not alone, even if one or two were wounded. Old Ser Goodwin was long in his grave, yet she could hear him whispering in her ear. Men will always underestimate you, he said, and their pride will make them want to vanquish you quickly, lest it be said that a woman tried them sorely. Let them spend their strength in furious attacks, whilst you conserve your own. Wait and watch, girl, wait and watch. She waited, watching, moving sideways, then backwards, then sideways again, slashing now at his face, now at his legs, now at his arm. His blows came more slowly as his axe grew heavier. Brienne turned him so the rain was in his eyes, and stepped back two quicksteps. He wrenched his axe up once more, cursing, and lurched after her, one foot sliding in the mud...\n\n... and she leapt to meet his rush, both hands on her sword hilt. His headlong charge brought him right onto her point, and Oathkeeper punched through cloth and mail and leather and more cloth, deep into his bowels and out his back, rasping as it scraped along his spine. His axe fell from limp fingers, and the two of them slammed together, Brienne's face mashed up against the dog's head helm. She felt the cold wet metal against her cheek. Rain ran down the steel in rivers, and when the lightning flashed again she saw pain and fear and rank disbelief through the eye slits. \"Sapphires,\" she whispered at him, as she gave her blade a hard twist that made him shudder. His weight sagged heavily against her, and all at once it was a corpse that she embraced, therein the black rain. She stepped back and let him fall..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "... and Biter crashed into her, shrieking.\n\nHe fell on her like an avalanche of wet wool and milk-white flesh, lifting her off her feet and slamming her down into the ground. She landed in a puddle with a splash that sent water up her nose and into her eyes. All the air was driven out of her, and her head snapped down against some half-buried stone with a crack. \"No,\" was all that she had time to say before he fell on top of her, his weight driving her deeper into the mud. One of his hands was in her hair, pulling her head back. The other groped for her throat. Oathkeeper was gone, torn from her grasp. She had only her hands to fight him off, but when she slammed a fist into his face it was like punching a ball of wet white dough. He hissed at her.\n\nShe hit him again, again, again, smashing the heel of her hand into his eye, but he did not seem to feel her blows. She clawed at his wrists, but his grip just grew tighter, though blood ran from the gouges where she scratched him. He was crushing her, smothering her. She pushed at his shoulders to get him off her, but he was heavy as a horse, impossible to move. When she tried to knee him in the groin, all she did was drive her knee into his belly. Grunting, Biter tore out a handful of her hair.\n\nMy dagger. Brienne clutched at the thought, desperate. She worked her hand down between them, fingers squirming under his sour, suffocating flesh, searching until they finally found the hilt. Biter locked both his hands about her neck and began to slam her head against the ground. The lightning flashed again, this time inside her skull, yet somehow her fingers tightened, pulled the dagger from its sheath. With him on top of her, she could not raise the blade to stab, so she drew it hard across his belly. Something warm and wet gushed between her fingers. Biter hissed again, louder than before, and let goof her throat just long enough to smash her in the face. She heard bones crack, and the pain blinded her for an instant. When she tried to slash at him again, he wrenched the dagger from her fingers and slammed a knee down onto her forearm, breaking it. Then he seized her head again and resumed trying to tear it off her shoulders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Brienne could hear Dog barking, and men were shouting all about her, and between the claps of thunder she heard the clash of steel on steel."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Hyle, she thought, Ser Hyle has joined the fight, but all that seemed faraway and unimportant. Her world was no larger than the hands at her throat and the face that loomed above her. The rain ran off his hood as he leaned closer. His breath stank like cheese gone rotten.\n\nBrienne's chest was burning, and the storm was behind her eyes, blinding her. Bones ground against each other inside of her. Biter's mouth gaped open, impossibly wide. She saw his teeth, yellow and crooked, filed into points. When they closed on the soft meat of her cheek, she hardly felt it. She could feel herself spiraling down into the dark. I cannot die yet, she told herself, there is something I still need to do.\n\nBiter's mouth tore free, full of blood and flesh. He spat, grinned, and sank his pointed teeth into her flesh again. This time he chewed and swallowed. He is eating me, she realized, but she had no strength left to fight him any longer. She felt as if she were floating above herself, watching the horror as if it were happening to some other woman, to some stupid girl who thought she was a knight. It will be finished soon, she told herself. Then it will not matter if he eats me. Biter threw back his head and opened his mouth again, howling, and stuck his tongue out at her. It was sharply pointed, dripping blood, longer than any tongue should be. Sliding from his mouth, out and out and out, red and wet and glistening, it made a hideous sight, obscene. His tongue is afoot long, Brienne thought, just before the darkness took her. Why, it looks almost like a sword."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nThe brooch that fastened Ser Brynden Tully's cloak was a black fish, wrought in jet and gold. His ringmail was grim and grey. Over it he wore greaves, gorget, gauntlets, pauldron, and poleyns of blackened steel, none half so dark as the look upon his face as he waited for Jaime Lannister at the end of the drawbridge, alone atop a chestnut courser caparisoned in red and blue.\n\nHe loves me not. Tully had a craggy face, deeply lined and windburnt beneath a shock of stiff grey hair, but Jaime could still seethe great knight who had once enthralled a squire with tales of the Ninepenny Kings. Honor's hooves clattered against the planks of the drawbridge. Jaime had thought long and hard about whether to wear his gold armor or his white to this meeting; in the end, he'd chosen a leather jack and a crimson cloak.\n\nHe drew up a yard from Ser Brynden, and inclined his head to the older man. \"Kingslayer,\" said Tully.\n\nThat he would make that name the first word from his mouth spoke volumes, but Jaime was resolved to keep his temper. \"Blackfish,\" he responded. \"Thank you for coming.\"\n\n\"I assume you have returned to fulfill the oaths you swore my niece,\" Ser Brynden said. \"As I recall, you promised Catelyn her daughters in return for your freedom.\" His mouth tightened. \"Yet I do not seethe girls. Where are they?\"\n\nMust he make me say it? \"I do not have them.\"\n\n\"Pity. Do you wish to resume your captivity? Your old cell is still available. We have put fresh rushes on the floor.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And a nice new pail for me to shit in, I don't doubt. \"That was thoughtful of you, ser, but I fear I must decline. I prefer the comforts of my pavilion.\"\n\n\"Whilst Catelyn enjoys the comforts of her grave.\"\n\nI had no hand in Lady Catelyn's death, he might have said, and her daughters were gone before I reached King's Landing. It was on his tongue to speak of Brienne and the sword he'd given her, but the Blackfish was looking at him the way that Eddard Stark had looked at him when he'd found him on the Iron Throne with the Mad King's blood upon his blade. \"I came to speak of the living, not the dead. Of those who need not die, but shall...\"\n\n\"... unless I hand you Riverrun. Is this where you threaten to hang Edmure?\" Beneath his bushy brows, Tully's eyes were stone. \"My nephew is marked for death no matter what I do. So hang him and be done with it. I expect that Edmure is as weary of standing on those gallows as I am of seeing him there.\"\n\nRyman Frey is a bloody fool. His mummer's show with Edmure and the gallows had only made the Blackfish more obdurate, that was plain. \"You hold Lady Sybelle Westerling and three of her children. I'll return your nephew in exchange for them.\"\n\n\"As you returned Lady Catelyn's daughters?\"\n\nJaime did not allow himself to be provoked. \"An old woman and three children for your liege lord. That's a better bargain than you could have hoped for.\"\n\nSer Brynden smiled a hard smile. \"You do not lack for gall, Kingslayer. Bargaining with oathbreakers is like building on quicksand, though. Cat should have known better than to trust the likes of you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was Tyrion she trusted in, Jaime almost said. The Imp deceived her too. \"The promises I made to Lady Catelyn were wrung from meat swordpoint.\"\n\n\"And the oath you swore to Aerys?\"\n\nHe felt his phantom fingers twitching. \"Aerys is no part of this. Will you exchange the Westerlings for Edmure?\"\n\n\"No. My king entrusted his queen to my keeping, and I swore to keep her safe. I will not hand her over to a Frey noose.\"\n\n\"The girl has been pardoned. No harm will come to her. You have my word on that.\"\n\n\"Your word of honor?\" Ser Brynden raised an eyebrow. \"Do you even know what honor is?\"\n\nA horse. \"I will swear any oath that you require.\"\n\n\"Spare me, Kingslayer.\"\n\n\"I want to. Strike your banners and open your gates and I'll grant your men their lives. Those who wish to remain at Riverrun in service to Lord Emmon may do so. The rest shall be free to go where they will, though I will require them to surrender their arms and armor.\"\n\n\"I wonder, how far will they get, unarmed, before \"outlaws\" set upon them? You dare not allow them to join Lord Beric, we both know that. And what of me? Will I be paraded through King's Landing to die like Eddard Stark?\"\n\n\"I will permit you to take the black. Ned Stark's bastard is the Lord Commander on the Wall.\"\n\nThe Blackfish narrowed his eyes. \"Did your father arrange for that as well? Catelyn never trusted the boy, as I recall, no more than she ever trusted Theon Greyjoy. It would seem she was right about them both. No, ser, I think not. I'll die warm, if you please, with a sword in hand running red with lion blood.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Tully blood runs just as red,\" Jaime reminded him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If you will not yield the castle, I must storm it. Hundreds will die.\"\n\n\"Hundreds of mine. Thousands of yours.\"\n\n\"Your garrison will perish to a man.\"\n\n\"I know that song. Do you sing it to the tune of \"The Rains of Castamere\"? My men would sooner die upon their feet fighting than on their knees beneath a headsman's axe.\"\n\nThis is not going well. \"This defiance serves no purpose, ser. The war is done, and your Young Wolf is dead.\"\n\n\"Murdered in breach of all the sacred laws of hospitality.\"\n\n\"Frey's work, not mine.\"\n\n\"Call it what you will. It stinks of Tywin Lannister.\"\n\nJaime could not deny that. \"My father is dead as well.\"\n\n\"May the Father judge him justly.\"\n\nNow, there's an awful prospect. \"I would have slain Robb Stark in the Whispering Wood, if I could have reached him. Some fools got in my way. Does it matter how the boy perished? He's no less dead, and his kingdom died when he did.\"\n\n\"You must be blind as well as maimed, ser. Lift your eyes, and you will see that the direwolf still flies above our walls.\"\n\n\"I've seen him. He looks lonely. Harrenhal has fallen. Seagard and Maidenpool. The Brackens have bent the knee, and they've got Tytos Blackwood penned up in Raventree. Piper, Vance, Mooton, all your bannermen have yielded. Only Riverrun remains. We have twenty times your numbers.\"\n\n\"Twenty times the men require twenty times the food. How well are you provisioned, my lord?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well enough to sit here till the end of days if need be, whilst you starve inside your walls.\" He told the lie as boldly as he could and hoped his face did not betray him.\n\nThe Blackfish was not deceived. \"The end of your days, perhaps. Our own supplies are ample, though I fear we did not leave much in the fields for visitors.\"\n\n\"We can bring food down from the Twins,\" said Jaime, \"or over the hills from the west, if it comes to that.\"\n\n\"If you say so. Far be it from me to question the word of such an honorable knight.\"\n\nThe scorn in his voice made Jaime bristle. \"There is a quicker way to decide the matter. A single combat. My champion against yours.\"\n\n\"I was wondering when you would get to that.\" Ser Brynden laughed. \"Who will it be? Strongboar? Addam Marbrand? Black Walder Frey?\" He leaned forward. \"Why not you and me, ser?\"\n\nThat would have been a sweet fight once, Jaime thought, fine fodder for the singers. \"When Lady Catelyn freed me, she made me swear not to take arms again against the Starks or Tullys.\"\n\n\"A most convenient oath, ser.\"\n\nHis face darkened. \"Are you calling me a coward?\"\n\n\"No. I am calling you a cripple.\" The Blackfish nodded at Jaime's golden hand. \"We both know you cannot fight with that.\"\n\n\"I had two hands.\" Would you throw your life away for pride? a voice inside him whispered. \"Some might say a cripple and an old man are well matched. Free me from my vow to Lady Catelyn and I will meet you sword to sword. If I win, Riverrun is ours. If you slay me, we'll lift the siege.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Brynden laughed again. \"Much as I would welcome the chance to take that golden sword away from you and cutout your black heart, your promises are worthless. I would gain nothing from your death but the pleasure of killing you, and I will not risk my own life for that... as small a risk as that maybe.\"\n\nIt was a good thing that Jaime wore no sword; elsewise he would have ripped his blade out, and if Ser Brynden did not slay him, the archers on the walls most surely would. \"Are there any terms you will accept?\" he demanded of the Blackfish.\n\n\"From you?\" Ser Brynden shrugged. \"No.\"\n\n\"Why did you even come to treat with me?\"\n\n\"A siege is deadly dull. I wanted to see this stump of yours and hear whatever excuses you cared to offer up for your latest enormities. They were feebler than I'd hoped. You always disappoint, Kingslayer.\" The Blackfish wheeled his mare and trotted back toward Riverrun. The portcullis descended with a rush, its iron spikes biting deep into the muddy ground.\n\nJaime turned Honor's head about for the long ride back to the Lannister siege lines. He could feel the eyes on him; the Tully men upon their battlements, the Freys across the river. If they are not blind, they'll all know he threw my offer in my teeth. He would need to storm the castle. Well, what's one more broken vow to the Kingslayer? Just more shit in the bucket. Jaime resolved to be the first man on the battlements. And with this golden hand of mine, most like the first to fall.\n\nBack at camp, Little Lew held his bridle whilst Peck gave him a hand down from the saddle. Do they think I'm such a cripple that I cannot dismount by myself? \"How did you fare, my lord?\" asked his cousin Ser Daven."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No one put an arrow in my horse's rump."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elsewise, there was little to distinguish me from Ser Ryman.\" He grimaced. \"So now he must needs turn the Red Fork redder.\" Blame yourself for that, Blackfish. You left me little choice. \"Assemble a war council. Ser Addam, Strongboar, Forley Prester, those river lords of ours... and our friends of Frey. Ser Ryman, Lord Emmon, whoever else they care to bring.\"\n\nThey gathered quickly. Lord Piper and both Lords Vance came to speak for the repentant lords of the Trident, whose loyalties would shortly be put to the test. The west was represented by Ser Daven, Strongboar, Addam Marbrand, and Forley Prester. Lord Emmon Frey joined them, with his wife. Lady Genna claimed her stool with a look that dared any man thereto question her presence. None did. The Freys sent Ser Walder Rivers, called'Bastard Walder,\" and Ser Ryman's firstborn Edwyn, a pallid, slender man with a pinched nose and lank dark hair. Under a blue lambswool cloak, Edwyn wore a jerkin of finely tooled grey calfskin with ornate scrollwork worked into the leather. \"I speak for House Frey,\" he announced. \"My father is indisposed this morning.\"\n\nSer Daven gave a snort. \"Is he drunk, or just greensick from last night's wine?\"\n\nEdwyn had the hard mean mouth of a miser. \"Lord Jaime,\" he said, \"must I suffer such discourtesy?\"\n\n\"Is it true?\" Jaime asked him. \"Is your father drunk?\"\n\nFrey pressed his lips together and eyed Ser Ilyn Payne, who was standing beside by the tent flap in his rusted mail, his sword poking up above one bony shoulder. \"He... my father has a bad belly, my lord. Red wine helps with his digestion.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He must be digesting a bloody mammoth,\" said Ser Daven. Strongboar laughed, and Lady Genna chuckled.\n\n\"Enough,\" said Jaime. \"We have a castle to win.\" When his father satin council, he let his captains speak first. He was resolved to do the same. \"How shall we proceed?\"\n\n\"Hang Edmure Tully, fora start,\" urged Lord Emmon Frey. \"That will teach Ser Brynden that we mean what we say. If we send Ser Edmure's head to his uncle, it may move him to yield.\"\n\n\"Brynden Blackfish is not moved so easily.\" Karyl Vance, the Lord of Wayfarer's Rest, had a melancholy look. A winestain birthmark covered half his neck and one side of his face. \"His own brother could not move him to a marriage bed.\"\n\nSer Daven shook his shaggy head. \"We have to storm the walls, as I've been saying all along. Siege towers, scaling ladders, a ram to break the gate, that's what's needed here.\"\n\n\"I will lead the assault,\" said Strongboar. \"Give the fish a taste of steel and fire, that's what I say.\"\n\n\"They are my walls,\" protested Lord Emmon, \"and that is my gate you would break.\" He drew his parchment out of his sleeve again. \"King Tommen himself has granted me-\"\n\n\"We've all seen your paper, nuncle,\" snapped Edwyn Frey. \"Why don't you go wave it at the Blackfish fora change?\"\n\n\"Storming the walls will be a bloody business,\" said Addam Marbrand. \"I propose we wait fora moonless night and send a dozen picked men across the river in a boat with muffled oars. They can scale the walls with ropes and grapnels, and open the gates from the inside. I will lead them, if the council wishes.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Folly,\" declared the bastard, Walder Rivers."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ser Brynden is no man to be cozened by such tricks.\"\n\n\"The Blackfish is the obstacle,\" agreed Edwyn Frey. \"His helm bears a black trout on its crest that makes him easy to pick out from afar. I propose that we move our siege towers close, fill them full of bowmen, and feign an attack upon the gates. That will bring Ser Brynden to the battlements, crest and all. Let every archer smear his shafts with night soil, and make that crest his mark. Once Ser Brynden dies, Riverrun is ours.\"\n\n\"Mine,\" piped Lord Emmon. \"Riverrun is mine.\"\n\nLord Karyl's birthmark darkened. \"Will the night soil be your own contribution, Edwyn? A mortal poison, I don't doubt.\"\n\n\"The Blackfish deserves a nobler death, and I'm the man to give it to him.\" Strongboar thumped his fist on the table. \"I will challenge him to single combat. Mace or axe or longsword, makes no matter. The old man will be my meat.\"\n\n\"Why would he deign to accept your challenge, ser?\" asked Ser Forley Prester. \"What could he gain from such a duel? Will we lift the siege if he should win? I do not believe that. Nor will he. A single combat would accomplish nought.\"\n\n\"I have known Brynden Tully since we were squires together, in service to Lord Darry,\" said Norbert Vance, the blind Lord of Atranta. \"If it please my lords, let me go and speak with him and try to make him understand the hopelessness of his position.\"\n\n\"He understands that well enough,\" said Lord Piper. He was a short, rotund, bowlegged man with a bush of wild red hair, the father of one of Jaime's squires; the resemblance to the boy was unmistakeable. \"The man's not bloody stupid, Norbert. He has eyes... and too much sense to yield to such as these.\" He made a rude gesture in the direction of Edwyn Frey and Walder Rivers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Edwyn bristled. \"If my lord of Piper means to imply-\"\n\n\"I don't imply, Frey. I say what I mean straight out, like an honest man. But what would you know of the ways of honest men? You're a treacherous lying weasel, like all your kin. I'd sooner drink a pint of piss than take the word of any Frey.\" He leaned across the table. \"Where is Marq, answer me that? What have you done with my son? He was a guest at your bloody wedding.\"\n\n\"And our honored guest he shall remain,\" said Edwyn, \"until you prove your loyalty to His Grace, King Tommen.\"\n\n\"Five knights and twenty men-at-arms went with Marq to the Twins,\" said Piper. \"Are they your guests as well, Frey?\"\n\n\"Some of the knights, perhaps. The others were served no more than they deserved. You'd do well to guard your traitor's tongue, Piper, unless you want your heir returned in pieces.\"\n\nMy father's councils never went like this, Jaime thought, as Piper came lurching to his feet. \"Say that with a sword in your hand, Frey,\" the small man snarled. \"Or do you only fight with smears of shit?\"\n\nFrey's pinched face went pale. Beside him Walder Rivers rose. \"Edwyn is no man of the sword... but I am, Piper. If you have more remarks to make, come outside and make them.\"\n\n\"This is a war council, not a war,\" Jaime reminded them. \"Sit down, the both of you.\" Neither man moved. \"Now!\"\n\nWalder Rivers seated himself. Lord Piper was not so easy to cow. He muttered a curse and strode from the tent. \"Shall I send men after him to drag him back, my lord?\" Ser Daven asked Jaime."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Send Ser Ilyn,\" urged Edywn Frey."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We only need his head.\"\n\nKaryl Vance turned to Jaime. \"Lord Piper spoke from grief. Marq is his firstborn son. Those knights who accompanied him to the Twins were nephews and cousins all.\"\n\n\"Traitors and rebels all, you mean,\" said Edwyn Frey.\n\nJaime gave him a cold look. \"The Twins took up the Young Wolf's cause as well,\" he reminded the Freys. \"Then you betrayed him. That makes you twice as treacherous as Piper.\" He enjoyed seeing Edwyn's thin smile curdle up and die. I have endured sufficient counsel for one day, he decided. \"We're done. See to your preparations, my lords. We attack at first light.\"\n\nThe wind was blowing from the north as the lords filed from the tent. Jaime could smell the stink of the Frey encampments beyond the Tumblestone. Across the water Edmure Tully stood forlorn atop the tall grey gallows, with a rope around his neck.\n\nHis aunt departed last, her husband at her heels. \"Lord nephew,\" Emmon protested, \"this assault on my seat... you must not do this.\" When he swallowed, the apple in his throat moved up and down. \"You must not. I... I forbid it.\" He had been chewing sourleaf again; pinkish froth glistened on his lips. \"The castle is mine, I have the parchment. Signed by the king, by little Tommen. I am the lawful lord of Riverrun, and...\"\n\n\"Not so long as Edmure Tully lives,\" said Lady Genna. \"He is soft of heart and soft of head, I know, but alive, the man is still a danger. What do you mean to do about that, Jaime?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's the Blackfish who is the danger, not Edmure. \"Leave Edmure tome. Ser Lyle, Ser Ilyn. Attend me, if you would. It's time I paid a visit to those gallows.\"\n\nThe Tumblestone was deeper and swifter than the Red Fork, and the nearest ford was leagues upstream. The ferry had just started across with Walder Rivers and Edwyn Frey when Jaime and his men arrived at the river. As they awaited its return, Jaime told them what he wanted. Ser Ilyn spat into the river.\n\nWhen the three of them stepped off the ferry on the north bank, a drunken camp follower offered to pleasure Strongboar with her mouth. \"Here, pleasure my friend,\" Ser Lyle said, shoving her toward Ser Ilyn. Laughing, the woman moved to kiss Payne on the lips, then saw his eyes and shrank away.\n\nThe paths between the cookfires were raw brown mud, mixed with horse dung and torn up by hooves and boots alike. Everywhere Jaime saw the twin towers of House Frey displayed on shield and banners, blue on grey, along with the arms of lesser Houses sworn to the Crossing: the heron of Erenford, the pitchfork of Haigh, Lord Charlton's three sprigs of mistletoe. The arrival of the Kingslayer did not go unnoticed. An old woman selling piglets from a basket stopped to stare at him, a knight with a half-familiar face went to one knee, and two men-at-arms pissing in a ditch turned and sprayed each other. \"Ser Jaime,\" someone called after him, but he strode on without turning. Around him he glimpsed the faces of men he'd done his best to kill in the Whispering Wood, where the Freys had fought beneath the direwolf banners of Robb Stark. His golden hand hung heavy at his side."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ryman Frey's great rectangular pavilion was the largest in the camp; its grey canvas walls were made of sewn squares to resemble stonework, and its two peaks evoked the Twins. Far from being indisposed, Ser Ryman was enjoying some entertainment. The sound of a woman's drunken laughter drifted from within the tent, mingled with the strains of a woodharp and a singer's voice. I will deal with you later, ser, Jaime thought. Walder Rivers stood before his own modest tent, talking with two men-at-arms. His shield bore the arms of House Frey with the colors reversed, and a red bend sinister across the towers. When the bastard saw Jaime, he frowned. There's a cold suspicious look if ever I saw one. That one is more dangerous than any of his trueborn brothers.\n\nThe gallows had been raised ten feet off the ground. Two spearmen were posted at the foot of the steps. \"You can't go up without Ser Ryman's leave,\" one told Jaime.\n\n\"This says I can.\" Jaime tapped his sword hilt with a finger. \"The question is, will I need to step over your corpse?\"\n\nThe spearmen moved aside.\n\nAtop the gallows, the Lord of Riverrun stood staring at the trap beneath him. His feet were black and caked with mud, his legs bare. Edmure wore a soiled silken tunic striped in Tully red and blue, and a noose of hempen rope. At the sound of Jaime's footsteps, he raised his head and licked his dry, cracked lips. \"Kingslayer?\" The sight of Ser Ilyn widened his eyes. \"Better a sword than a rope. Do it, Payne.\"\n\n\"Ser Ilyn,\" said Jaime. \"You heard Lord Tully. Do it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The silent knight gripped his greatsword with both hands."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Long and heavy it was, sharp as common steel could be. Edmure's cracked lips moved soundlessly. As Ser Ilyn drew the blade back, he closed his eyes. The stroke had all Payne's weight behind it.\n\n\"No! Stop. NO!\" Edwyn Frey came panting into view. \"My father comes. Fast as he can. Jaime, you must...\"\n\n\"My lord would suit me better, Frey,\" said Jaime. \"And you would do well to omit must from any speech directed at me.\"\n\nSer Ryman came stomping up the gallows steps in company with a straw-haired slattern as drunk as he was. Her gown laced up the front, but someone had undone the laces to the navel, so her breasts were spilling out. They were large and heavy, with big brown nipples. On her head a circlet of hammered bronze sat askew, graven with runes and ringed with small black swords. When she saw Jaime, she laughed. \"Who in seven hells is this one?\"\n\n\"The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,\" Jaime returned with cold courtesy. \"I might ask the same of you, my lady.\"\n\n\"Lady? I'm no lady. I'm the queen.\"\n\n\"My sister will be surprised to hear that.\"\n\n\"Lord Ryman crowned me his very self.\" She gave a shake of her ample hips. \"I'm the queen o\" whores.\"\n\nNo, Jaime thought, my sweet sister holds that title too.\n\nSer Ryman found his tongue. \"Shut your mouth, slut, Lord Jaime doesn't want to hear some harlot's nonsense.\" This Frey was a thickset man with abroad face, small eyes, and a soft fleshy set of chins. His breath stank of wine and onions."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborating with the writer, advance the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 41"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The silent knight gripped his greatsword with both hands."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Long and heavy it was, sharp as common steel could be. Edmure's cracked lips moved soundlessly. As Ser Ilyn drew the blade back, he closed his eyes. The stroke had all Payne's weight behind it.\n\n\"No! Stop. NO!\" Edwyn Frey came panting into view. \"My father comes. Fast as he can. Jaime, you must...\"\n\n\"My lord would suit me better, Frey,\" said Jaime. \"And you would do well to omit must from any speech directed at me.\"\n\nSer Ryman came stomping up the gallows steps in company with a straw-haired slattern as drunk as he was. Her gown laced up the front, but someone had undone the laces to the navel, so her breasts were spilling out. They were large and heavy, with big brown nipples. On her head a circlet of hammered bronze sat askew, graven with runes and ringed with small black swords. When she saw Jaime, she laughed. \"Who in seven hells is this one?\"\n\n\"The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,\" Jaime returned with cold courtesy. \"I might ask the same of you, my lady.\"\n\n\"Lady? I'm no lady. I'm the queen.\"\n\n\"My sister will be surprised to hear that.\"\n\n\"Lord Ryman crowned me his very self.\" She gave a shake of her ample hips. \"I'm the queen o\" whores.\"\n\nNo, Jaime thought, my sweet sister holds that title too.\n\nSer Ryman found his tongue. \"Shut your mouth, slut, Lord Jaime doesn't want to hear some harlot's nonsense.\" This Frey was a thickset man with abroad face, small eyes, and a soft fleshy set of chins. His breath stank of wine and onions."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Making queens, Ser Ryman?\" Jaime asked softly. \"Stupid. As stupid as this business with Lord Edmure.\"\n\n\"I gave the Blackfish warning. I told him Edmure would die unless the castle yielded. I had this gallows built, to show them that Ser Ryman Frey does not make idle threats. At Seagard my son Walder did the same with Patrek Mallister and Lord Jason bent the knee, but... the Blackfish is a cold man. He refused us, so...\"\n\n\"... you hanged Lord Edmure?\"\n\nThe man reddened. \"My lord grandfather... if we hang the man we have no hostage, ser. Have you considered that?\"\n\n\"Only a fool makes threats he's not prepared to carryout. If I were to threaten to hit you unless you shut your mouth, and you presumed to speak, what do you think I'd do?\"\n\n\"Ser, you do not unders-\"\n\nJaime hit him. It was a backhand blow delivered with his golden hand, but the force of it sent Ser Ryman stumbling backward into the arms of his whore. \"You have a fathead, Ser Ryman, and a thick neck as well. Ser Ilyn, how many strokes would it take you to cut through that neck?\"\n\nSer Ilyn laid a single finger against his nose.\n\nJaime laughed. \"An empty boast. I say three.\"\n\nRyman Frey went to his knees. \"I have done nothing...\"\n\n\"... but drink and whore. I know.\"\n\n\"I am heir to the Crossing. You can't...\"\n\n\"I warned you about talking.\" Jaime watched the man turn white. A sot, a fool, and a craven. Lord Walder had best outlive this one, or the Freys are done. \"You are dismissed, ser.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Dismissed?\"\n\n\"You heard me. Go away.\"\n\n\"But... where should I go?\"\n\n\"To hell or home, as you prefer. See that you are not in camp when the sun comes up. You may take your queen of whores, but not that crown of hers.\" Jaime turned from Ser Ryman to his son. \"Edwyn, I am giving you your father's command. Try not to be so stupid as your sire.\"\n\n\"That ought not pose much difficulty, my lord.\"\n\n\"Send word to Lord Walder. The crown requires all his prisoners.\" Jaime waved his golden hand. \"Ser Lyle, bring him.\"\n\nEdmure Tully had collapsed facedown on the scaffold when Ser Ilyn's blade sheared the rope in two. Afoot of hemp still dangled from the noose about his neck. Strongboar grabbed the end of it and pulled him to his feet. \"A fish on a leash,\" he said, chortling. \"There's a sight I never saw before.\"\n\nThe Freys stepped aside to let them pass. A crowd had gathered below the scaffold, including a dozen camp followers in various states of disarray. Jaime noticed one man holding a woodharp. \"You. Singer. Come with me.\"\n\nThe man doffed his hat. \"As my lord commands.\"\n\nNo one said a word as they walked back to the ferry, with Ser Ryman's singer trailing after them. But as they shoved off from the riverbank and made for the south side of the Tumblestone, Edmure Tully grabbed Jaime by the arm. \"Why?\"\n\nA Lannister pays his debts, he thought, and you're the only coin that's left tome. \"Consider it a wedding gift.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Edmure stared at him with wary eyes. \"A... wedding gift?\"\n\n\"I am told your wife is pretty. She'd have to be, for you to bed her while your sister and your king were being murdered.\"\n\n\"I never knew.\" Edmure licked his cracked lips. \"There were fiddlers outside the bedchamber...\"\n\n\"And Lady Roslin was distracting you.\"\n\n\"She... they made her do it, Lord Walder and the rest. Roslin never wanted... she wept, but I thought it was...\"\n\n\"The sight of your rampant manhood? Aye, that would make any woman weep, I'm sure.\"\n\n\"She is carrying my child.\"\n\nNo, Jaime thought, that's your death she has growing in her belly. Back at his pavilion, he dismissed Strongboar and Ser Ilyn, but not the singer. \"I may have need of a song shortly,\" he told the man. \"Lew, heat some bathwater for my guest. Pia, find him some clean clothing. Nothing with lions on it, if you please. Peck, wine for Lord Tully. Are you hungry, my lord?\"\n\nEdmure nodded, but his eyes were still suspicious.\n\nJaime settled on a stool while Tully had his bath. The filth came off in grey clouds. \"Once you've eaten, my men will escort you to Riverrun. What happens after that is up to you.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Your uncle is an old man. Valiant, yes, but the best part of his life is done. He has no bride to grieve for him, no children to defend. A good death is all the Blackfish can hope for... but you have years remaining, Edmure. And you are the rightful lord of House Tully, not him. Your uncle serves at your pleasure. The fate of Riverrun is in your hands.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Edmure stared. \"The fate of Riverrun...\"\n\n\"Yield the castle and no one dies. Your smallfolk may go in peace or stay to serve Lord Emmon. Ser Brynden will be allowed to take the black, along with as many of the garrison as choose to join him. You as well, if the Wall appeals to you. Or you may go to Casterly Rock as my captive and enjoy all the comforts and courtesy that befits a hostage of your rank. I'll send your wife to join you, if you like. If her child is a boy, he will serve House Lannister as a page and a squire, and when he earns his knighthood we'll bestow some lands upon him. Should Roslin give you a daughter, I'll see her well dowered when she's old enough towed. You yourself may even be granted parole, once the war is done. All you need do is yield the castle.\"\n\nEdmure raised his hands from the tub and watched the water run between his fingers. \"And if I will not yield?\"\n\nMust you make me say the words? Pia was standing by the flap of the tent with her arms full of clothes. His squires were listening as well, and the singer. Let them hear, Jaime thought. Let the world hear. It makes no matter. He forced himself to smile, \"You've seen our numbers, Edmure. You've seen the ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my coz will bridge your moat and break your gate. Hundreds will die, most of them your own. Your former bannermen will makeup the first wave of attackers, so you'll start your day by killing the fathers and brothers of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, I have no lack of those. My westermen will follow when your archers are short of arrows and your knights so weary they can hardly lift their blades. When the castle falls, all those inside will be put to the sword. Your herds will be butchered, your godswood will be felled, your keeps and towers will burn. I'll pull your walls down, and divert the Tumblestone over the ruins. By the time I'm done no man will ever know that a castle once stood here.\" Jaime got to his feet. \"Your wife may whelp before that. You'll want your child, I expect. I'll send him to you when he's born. With a trebuchet.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Silence followed his speech."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Edmure satin his bath. Pia clutched the clothing to her breasts. The singer tightened a string on his harp. Little Lew hollowed out a loaf of stale bread to make a trencher, pretending that he had not heard. With a trebuchet, Jaime thought. If his aunt had been there, would she still say Tyrion was Tywin's son?\n\nEdmure Tully finally found his voice. \"I could climb out of this tub and kill you where you stand, Kingslayer.\"\n\n\"You could try.\" Jaime waited. When Edmure made no move to rise, he said, \"I'll leave you to enjoy your food. Singer, play for our guest whilst he eats. You know the song, I trust.\"\n\n\"The one about the rain? Aye, my lord. I know it.\"\n\nEdmure seemed to seethe man for the first time. \"No. Not him. Get him away from me.\"\n\n\"Why, it's just a song,\" said Jaime. \"He cannot have that bad a voice.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "CERSEI\n\nGrand Maester Pycelle had been old for as long as she had known him, but he seemed to have aged another hundred years in the past three nights. It took him an eternity to bend his creaky knee before her, and once he had he could not rise again until Ser Osmund jerked him to his feet.\n\nCersei studied him with displeasure. \"Lord Qyburn informs me that Lord Gyles has coughed his last.\"\n\n\"Yes, Your Grace. I did my best to ease his passing.\"\n\n\"Did you?\" The queen turned to Lady Merryweather. \"I did say I wanted Rosby alive, did I not?\"\n\n\"You did, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Ser Osmund, what is your recollection of the conversation?\"\n\n\"You commanded Grand Maester Pycelle to save the man, Your Grace. We all heard.\"\n\nPycelle's mouth opened and closed. \"Your Grace must know, I did all that could be done for the poor man.\"\n\n\"As you did for Joffrey? And his father, my own beloved husband? Robert was as strong as any man in the Seven Kingdoms, yet you lost him to a boar. Oh, and let us not forget Jon Arryn. No doubt you would have killed Ned Stark as well, if I had let you keep him longer. Tell me, maester, was it at the Citadel that you learned to wring your hands and make excuses?\"\n\nHer voice made the old man flinch. \"No man could have done more, Your Grace. I... I have always given leal service.\"\n\n\"When you counseled King Aerys to open his gates as my father's host approached, was that your notion of leal service?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That... I misjudged the...\"\n\n\"Was that good counsel?\"\n\n\"Your Grace must surely know...\"\n\n\"What I know is that when my son was poisoned you proved to be of less use than Moon Boy. What I know is that the crown has desperate need of gold, and our lord treasurer is dead.\"\n\nThe old fool seized upon that. \"I... I shall draw up a list of men suitable to take Lord Gyles's place upon the council.\"\n\n\"A list.\" Cersei was amused by his presumption. \"I can well imagine the sort of list you would provide me. Greybeards and grasping fools and Garth the Gross.\" Her lips tightened. \"You have been much in Lady Margaery's company of late.\"\n\n\"Yes. Yes, I... Queen Margaery has been most distraught about Ser Loras. I provide Her Grace with sleeping draughts and... other sorts of potions.\"\n\n\"No doubt. Tell me, was it our little queen who commanded you to kill Lord Gyles?\"\n\n\"K-kill?\" Grand Maester Pycelle's eyes grew as big as boiled eggs. \"Your Grace cannot believe... it was his cough, by all the gods, I... Her Grace would not... she bore Lord Gyles no ill will, why would Queen Margaery want him...\"\n\n\"... dead? Why, to plant another rose on Tommen's council. Are you blind or bought? Rosby stood in her way, so she put him in his grave. With your connivance.\"\n\n\"Your Grace, I swear to you, Lord Gyles perished from his cough.\" His mouth was quivering. \"My loyalty has always been to the crown, to the realm... t-to House Lannister.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In that order?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pycelle's fear was palpable. He is ripe enough. Time to squeeze the fruit and taste the juice. \"If you areas leal as you claim, why are you lying tome? Do not trouble to deny it. You began to dance attendance on Maid Margaery before Ser Loras went to Dragonstone, so spare me further fables about how you wantonly to console our good-daughter in her grief. What brings you to the Maidenvault so often? Not Margaery's vapid conversation, surely? Are you courting that pox-faced septa of hers? Diddling little Lady Bulwer? Do you play the spy for her, informing on me to serve her plots?\"\n\n\"I... I obey. A maester takes an oath of service...\"\n\n\"A grand maester swears to serve the realm.\"\n\n\"Your Grace, she... she is the queen...\"\n\n\"I am the queen.\"\n\n\"I meant... she is the king's wife, and...\"\n\n\"I know who she is. What I want to know is why she has need of you. Is my good-daughter unwell?\"\n\n\"Unwell?\" The old man plucked at the thing he called a beard, that patched growth of thin white hair sprouting from the loose pink wattles under his chin. \"N-not unwell, Your Grace, not as such. My oaths forbid me to divulge...\"\n\n\"Your oaths will be of small comfort in the black cells,\" she warned him. \"I'll hear the truth, or you'll wear chains.\"\n\nPycelle collapsed to his knees. \"I beg you... I was your lord father's man, and a friend to you in the matter of Lord Arryn. I could not survive the dungeons, not again...\""
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why does Margaery send for you?\"\n\n\"She desires... she... she...\"\n\n\"Say it!\"\n\nHe cringed. \"Moon tea,\" he whispered. \"Moon tea, for...\"\n\n\"I know what moon tea is for.\" There it is. \"Very well. Get off those saggy knees and try to remember what it was to be a man.\" Pycelle struggled to rise, but took so long about it that she had to tell Osmund Kettleblack to give him another yank. \"As to Lord Gyles, no doubt our Father Above will judge him justly. He left no children?\"\n\n\"No children of his body, but there is award...\"\n\n\"... not of his blood.\" Cersei dismissed that annoyance with a flick of her hand. \"Gyles knew of our dire need for gold. No doubt he told you of his wish to leave all his lands and wealth to Tommen.\" Rosby's gold would help refresh their coffers, and Rosby's lands and castle could be bestowed upon one of her own as a reward for leal service. Lord Waters, perhaps. Aurane had been hinting at his need fora seat; his lordship was only an empty honor without one. He had his eye on Dragonstone, Cersei knew, but there he aimed too high. Rosby would be more suitable to his birth and station.\n\n\"Lord Gyles loved His Grace with all his heart,\" Pycelle was saying, \"but... his ward...\"\n\n\"... will doubtless understand, once he hears you speak of Lord Gyles's dying wish. Go, and see it done.\"\n\n\"If it please Your Grace.\" Grand Maester Pycelle almost tripped over his own robes in his haste to leave.\n\nLady Merryweather closed the door behind him. \"Moon tea,\" she said, as she turned back to the queen. \"How foolish of her. Why would she do such a thing, take such a risk?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The little queen has appetites that Tommen is as yet too young to satisfy.\" That was always a danger, when a grown woman was married to a child. Even more so with a widow. She may claim that Renly never touched her, but I will not believe it. Women only drank moon tea for one reason; maidens had no need for it at all. \"My son has been betrayed. Margaery has a lover. That is high treason, punishable by death.\" She could only hope that Mace Tyrell's prune-faced harridan of a mother lived long enough to seethe trial. By insisting that Tommen and Margaery be wed at once, Lady Olenna had condemned her precious rose to a headsman's sword. \"Jaime made off with Ser Ilyn Payne. I suppose I shall need to find anew King's Justice to snick her head off.\"\n\n\"I'll do it,\" offered Osmund Kettleblack, with an easy grin. \"Margaery's got a pretty little neck. A good sharp sword will go right through it.\"\n\n\"It would,\" said Taena, \"but there is a Tyrell army at Storm's End and another at Maidenpool. They have sharp swords as well.\"\n\nI am awash in roses. It was vexing. She still had need of Mace Tyrell, if not his daughter. At least until such time as Stannis is defeated. Then I shan't need any of them. But how could she rid herself of the daughter without losing the father? \"Treason is treason,\" she said, \"but we must have proof, something more substantial than moon tea. If she is proved to be untrue, even her own lord father must condemn her, or her shame becomes his own.\"\n\nKettleblack chewed on one end of his mustache. \"We need to catch them during the deed.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How? Qyburn has eyes on her day and night. Her serving men take my coin, but bring us only trifles. Yet no one has seen this lover. The ears outside her door hear singing, laughter, gossip, nothing of any use.\"\n\n\"Margaery is too shrewd to be caught so easily,\" said Lady Merryweather. \"Her women are her castle walls. They sleep with her, dress her, pray with her, read with her, sew with her. When she is not hawking or riding she is playing come-into-my-castle with little Alysanne Bulwer. Whenever men are about, her septa will be with her, or her cousins.\"\n\n\"She must rid herself of her hens sometime,\" the queen insisted. A thought struck her. \"Unless her ladies are part of it as well... not all of them, perhaps, but some.\"\n\n\"The cousins?\" Even Taena sounded doubtful. \"All three are younger than the little queen, and more innocent.\"\n\n\"Wantons clad in maiden's white. That only makes their sins more shocking. Their names will live in shame.\" Suddenly the queen could almost taste it. \"Taena, your lord husband is my justiciar. The two of you must sup with me, this very night.\" She wanted this done quickly, before Margaery took it in her little head to return to Highgarden, or sail to Dragonstone to be with her wounded brother at death's door. \"I shall command the cooks to roast a boar for us. And of course we must have some music, to help with our digestion.\"\n\nTaena was very quick. \"Music. Just so.\"\n\n\"Go and tell your lord husband and make arrangements for the singer,\" Cersei urged. \"Ser Osmund, you may remain. We have much and more to discuss. I shall have need of Qyburn too.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sad to say, the kitchens proved to have no wild boar on hand, and there was not time enough to send out hunters. Instead, the cooks butchered one of the castle sows, and served them ham studded with cloves and basted with honey and dried cherries. It was not what Cersei wanted, but she made do. Afterward they had baked apples with a sharp white cheese. Lady Taena savored every bite. Not so Orton Merryweather, whose round face remained blotched and pale from broth to cheese. He drank heavily and kept stealing glances at the singer.\n\n\"A great pity about Lord Gyles,\" Cersei said at last. \"I daresay none of us will miss his coughing, though.\"\n\n\"No. No, I'd think not.\"\n\n\"We shall have need of anew lord treasurer. If the Vale were not so unsettled, I would bring back Petyr Baelish, but... I am minded to try Ser Harys in the office. He can do no worse than Gyles, and at least he does not cough.\"\n\n\"Ser Harys is the King's Hand,\" said Taena.\n\nSer Harys is a hostage, and feeble even at that. \"It is time that Tommen had a more forceful Hand.\"\n\nLord Orton lifted his gaze from his wine cup. \"Forceful. To be sure.\" He hesitated. \"Who...?\"\n\n\"You, my lord. It is in your blood. Your grandsire took my own father's place as Hand to Aerys.\" Replacing Tywin Lannister with Owen Merryweather had proved to be akin to replacing a destrier with a donkey, to be sure, but Owen had been an old done man when Aerys raised him, amiable if ineffectual. His grandson was younger, and... Well, he has a strong wife. It was a pity Taena could not serve as Hand. She was thrice the man her husband was, and far more amusing. She was also Myrish-born and female, however, so Orton must needs suffice. \"I have no doubt that you are more able than Ser Harys.\" The contents of my chamber pot are more able than Ser Harys. \"Will you consent to serve?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I... yes, of course. Your Grace does me great honor.\"\n\nA greater one than you deserve. \"You have served me ably as justiciar, my lord. And will continue to do so through these... trying times ahead.\" When she saw that Merryweather had grasped her meaning, the queen turned to smile at the singer. \"And you must be rewarded as well, for all the sweet songs you have played for us whilst we ate. The gods have given you a gift.\"\n\nThe singer bowed. \"Your Grace is kind to say so.\"\n\n\"Not kind,\" said Cersei, \"merely truthful. Taena tells me that you are called the Blue Bard.\"\n\n\"I am, Your Grace.\" The singer's boots were supple blue calfskin, his breeches fine blue wool. The tunic he wore was pale blue silk slashed with shiny blue satin. He had even gone so far as to dye his hair blue, in the Tyroshi fashion. Long and curly, it fell to his shoulders and smelled as if it had been washed in rosewater. From blue roses, no doubt. At least his teeth are white. They were good teeth, not the least bit crooked.\n\n\"You have no other name?\"\n\nA hint of pink suffused his cheeks. \"As a boy, I was called Wat. A fine name fora plowboy, less fitting fora singer.\"\n\nThe Blue Bard's eyes were the same color as Robert's. For that alone, she hated him. \"It is easy to see why you are Lady Margaery's favorite.\"\n\n\"Her Grace is kind. She says I give her pleasure.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm certain of it. Might I see your lute?\"\n\n\"If it please Your Grace.\" Beneath the courtesy, there was a faint hint of unease, but he handed her the lute all the same. One does not refuse the queen's request."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cersei plucked a string and smiled at the sound. \"Sweet and sad as love. Tell me, Wat... the first time you took Margaery to bed, was that before shewed my son, or after?\"\n\nFora moment he did not seem to understand. When he did, his eyes grew large. \"Your Grace has been misinformed. I swear to you, I never-\"\n\n\"Liar!\" Cersei smashed the lute across the singer's face so hard the painted wood exploded into shards and splinters. \"Lord Orton, summon my guards and take this creature to the dungeons.\"\n\nOrton Merryweather's face was damp with fear. \"This... oh, infamy... he dared seduce the queen?\"\n\n\"I fear it was the other way around, but he is a traitor all the same. Let him sing for Lord Qyburn.\"\n\nThe Blue Bard went white. \"No.\" Blood dripped from his lip where the lute had torn it. \"I never...\" When Merryweather seized him by the arm, he screamed, \"Mother have mercy, no.\"\n\n\"I am not your mother,\" Cersei told him.\n\nEven in the black cells, all they got from him were denials, prayers, and pleas for mercy. Before long, blood was streaming down his chin from all his broken teeth, and he wet his dark blue breeches three times over, yet still the man persisted in his lies. \"Is it possible we have the wrong singer?\" Cersei asked.\n\n\"All things are possible, Your Grace. Have no fear. The man will confess before the night is done.\" Down herein the dungeons, Qyburn wore roughspun wool and a blacksmith's leather apron. To the Blue Bard he said, \"I am sorry if the guards were rough with you. Their courtesies are sadly lacking.\" His voice was kind, solicitous. \"All we want from you is the truth.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I've told you the truth,\" the singer sobbed. Iron shackles held him hard against the cold stonewall.\n\n\"We know better.\" Qyburn had a razor in his hand, its edge gleaming faintly in the torchlight. He cutaway the Blue Bard's clothing, until the man was naked but for his high blue boots. The hair between his legs was brown, Cersei was amused to see. \"Tell us how you pleasured the little queen,\" she commanded.\n\n\"I never... I sang, was all, I sang and played. Her ladies will tell you. They were always with us. Her cousins.\"\n\n\"How many of them did you have carnal knowledge of?\"\n\n\"None of them. I'm just a singer. Please.\"\n\nQyburn said, \"Your Grace, mayhaps this poor man only played for Margaery whilst she entertained other lovers.\"\n\n\"No. Please. She never... I sang, I only sang...\"\n\nLord Qyburn ran a hand up the Blue Bard's chest. \"Does she take your nipples in her mouth during your love play?\" He took one between his thumb and forefinger, and twisted. \"Some men enjoy that. Their nipples areas sensitive as a woman's.\" The razor flashed, the singer shrieked. On his chest a wet red eye wept blood. Cersei felt ill. Part of her wanted to close her eyes, to turn away, to make it stop. But she was the queen and this was treason. Lord Tywin would not have turned away.\n\nIn the end the Blue Bard told them his whole life, back to his first name day. His father had been a chandler and Wat was raised to that trade, but as a boy he found he had more skill at making lutes than barrels. When he was twelve he ran off to join a troupe of musicians he had heard performing at a fair. He had wandered half the Reach before coming to King's Landing in hopes of finding favor at court."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Favor?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Qyburn chuckled. \"Is that what women call it now? I fear you found too much of it, my friend... and from the wrong queen. The true one stands before you.\"\n\nYes. Cersei blamed Margaery Tyrell for this. If not for her, Wat might have lived along and fruitful life, singing his little songs and bedding pig girls and crofter's daughters. Her scheming forced this on me. She has soiled me with her treachery.\n\nBy dawn the singer's high blue boots were full of blood, and he had told them how Margaery would fondle herself as she watched her cousins pleasuring him with their mouths. At other times he would sing for her whilst she sated her lusts with other lovers. \"Who were they?\" the queen demanded, and the wretched Wat named Ser Tallad the Tall, Lambert Turnberry, Jalabhar Xho, the Redwyne twins, Osney Kettleblack, Hugh Clifton, and the Knight of Flowers.\n\nThat displeased her. She dare not besmirch the name of the hero of Dragonstone. Besides, no one who knew Ser Loras would ever believe it. The Redwynes could not be apart of it either. Without the Arbor and its fleet, the realm could never hope to rid itself of this Euron Crow's Eye and his accursed ironmen. \"All you are doing is spitting up the names of men you saw about her chambers. We want the truth!\"\n\n\"The truth.\" Wat looked at her with the one blue eye that Qyburn had left him. Blood bubbled through the holes where his front teeth had been. \"I might have... misremembered.\"\n\n\"Horas and Hobber had no part of this, did they?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No,\" he admitted."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Not them.\"\n\n\"As for Ser Loras, I am certain Margaery took pains to hide what she was doing from her brother.\"\n\n\"She did. I remember now. Once I had to hide under the bed when Ser Loras came to see her. He must never know, she said.\"\n\n\"I prefer this song to the other.\" Leave the great lords out of it, that was for the best. The others, though... Ser Tallad had been a hedge knight, Jalabhar Xho was an exile and a beggar, Clifton was the only one of the little queen's guardsman. And Osney is the plum that makes the pudding. \"I know you feel better for having told the truth. You will want to remember that when Margaery comes to trial. If you were to start lying again...\"\n\n\"I won't. I'll tell it true. And after...\"\n\n\"... you will be allowed to take the black. You have my word on that.\" Cersei turned to Qyburn. \"See that his wounds are cleaned and dressed, and give him milk of the poppy for the pain.\"\n\n\"Your Grace is good.\" Qyburn dropped the bloody razor into a pail of vinegar. \"Margaery may wonder where her bard has gone.\"\n\n\"Singers come and go, they are infamous for it.\"\n\nThe climb up the dark stone steps from the black cells left Cersei feeling breathless. I must rest. Getting to the truth was wearisome work, and she dreaded what must follow. I must be strong. What I must do I do for Tommen and the realm. It was a pity that Maggy the Frog was dead. Piss on your prophecy, old woman. The little queen maybe younger than I, but she has never been more beautiful, and soon she will be dead."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lady Merryweather was waiting in her bedchamber."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was the black of night, closer to dawn than to dusk. Jocelyn and Dorcas were both asleep, but not Taena. \"Was it terrible?\" she asked.\n\n\"You cannot know. I need to sleep, but fear to dream.\"\n\nTaena stroked her hair. \"It was all for Tommen.\"\n\n\"It was. I know it was.\" Cersei shuddered. \"My throat is raw. Be a sweet and pour me some wine.\"\n\n\"If it please you. That is all that I desire.\"\n\nLiar. She knew what Taena desired. So be it. If the woman was besotted with her, that would help ensure that she and her husband remained loyal. Ina world so full of treachery, that was worth a few kisses. She is no worse than most men. At least there is no danger of her ever getting me with child.\n\nThe wine helped, but not enough. \"I feel soiled,\" the queen complained as she stood beside her window, cup in hand.\n\n\"A bath will set you right, my sweet.\" Lady Merryweather woke Dorcas and Jocelyn and sent them for hot water. As the tub was filled, she helped the queen disrobe, undoing her laces with deft fingers and easing the gown off her shoulders. Then she slipped out of her own dress and let it puddle on the floor.\n\nThe two of them shared the bath together, with Cersei lying back in Taena's arms. \"Tommen must be spared the worst of this,\" she told the Myrish woman. \"Margaery still takes him to the sept everyday, so they can ask the gods to heal her brother.\" Ser Loras still clung to life, annoyingly. \"He is fond of her cousins as well. It will go hard on him, to lose them all.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"All three may not be guilty,\" suggested Lady Merryweather. \"Why, it might well be that one of them took no part. If she was shamed and sickened by the things she saw...\"\n\n\"... she might be persuaded to bear witness against the others. Yes, very good, but which one is the innocent?\"\n\n\"Alla.\"\n\n\"The shy one?\"\n\n\"So she seems, but there is more of sly than shy in her. Leave her tome, my sweet.\"\n\n\"Gladly.\" Alone, the Blue Bard's confession would never suffice. Singers lied for their living, after all. Alla Tyrell would be of great help, if Taena could deliver her. \"Ser Osney shall confess as well. The others must be made to understand that only through confession can they earn the king's forgiveness, and the Wall.\" Jalabhar Xho would find the truth attractive. About the rest she was less certain, but Qyburn was persuasive...\n\nDawn was breaking over King's Landing when they climbed from the tub. The queen's skin was white and wrinkled from her long immersion. \"Stay with me,\" she told Taena. \"I do not want to sleep alone.\" She even said a prayer before she crawled beneath her coverlet, beseeching the Mother for sweet dreams.\n\nIt proved a waste of breath; as ever, the gods were deaf. Cersei dreamt that she was down in the black cells once again, only this time it washer chained to the wall in place of the singer. She was naked, and blood dripped from the tips of her breasts where the Imp had torn off her nipples with his teeth. \"Please,\" she begged, \"please, not my children, do not harm my children.\" Tyrion only leered at her. He was naked too, covered with coarse hair that made him look more like a monkey than a man. \"You shall see them crowned,\" he said, \"and you shall see them die.\" Then he took her bleeding breast into his mouth and began to suck, and pain sawed through her like a hot knife."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She woke shuddering in Taena's arms. \"A bad dream,\" she said weakly. \"Did I scream? I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Dreams turn to dust in light of day. Was it the dwarf again? Why does he frighten you so, this silly little man?\"\n\n\"He is going to kill me. It was foreseen when I was ten. I wanted to know who I would marry, but she said...\"\n\n\"She?\"\n\n\"The maegi.\" The words came tumbling out of her. She could still hear Melara Hetherspoon insisting that if they never spoke about the prophecies, they would not come true. She was not so silent in the well, though. She screamed and shouted. \"Tyrion is the valonqar,\" she said. \"Do you use that word in Myr? It's High Valyrian, it means little brother.\" She had asked Septa Saranella about the word, after Melara drowned.\n\nTaena took her hand and stroked it. \"This was a hateful woman, old and sick and ugly. You were young and beautiful, full of life and pride. She lived in Lannisport, you said, so she would have known of the dwarf and how he killed your lady mother. This creature dared not strike you, because of who you were, so she sought to wound you with her viper's tongue.\"\n\nCould it be? Cersei wanted to believe it. \"Melara died, though, just as she foretold. I never wed Prince Rhaegar. And Joffrey... the dwarf killed my son before my eyes.\"\n\n\"One son,\" said Lady Merryweather, \"but you have another, sweet and strong, and no harm will ever come to him.\"\n\n\"Never, whilst I live.\" Saying it helped her believe that it was so. Dreams turn to dust in light of day, yes. Outside the morning sun was shining through a haze of cloud. Cersei slipped out from under the blankets. \"I will break my fast with the king this morning. I want to see my son.\" All I do, I do for him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tommen helped restore her to herself. He had never been more precious to her than he was that morning, chattering about his kittens as he dribbled honey onto a chunk of hot black bread fresh from the ovens. \"Ser Pounce caught a mouse,\" he told her, \"but Lady Whiskers stole it from him.\"\n\nI was never so sweet and innocent, Cersei thought. How can he ever hope to rule in this cruel realm? The mother in her wanted only to protect him; the queen in her knew he must grow harder, or the Iron Throne was certain to devour him. \"Ser Pounce must learn to defend his rights,\" she told him. \"In this world the weak are always the victims of the strong.\"\n\nThe king considered that, licking honey off his fingers. \"When Ser Loras comes back I'm going to learn to fight with lance and sword and morningstar, the same way he does.\"\n\n\"You will learn to fight,\" the queen promised, \"but not from Ser Loras. He will not becoming back, Tommen.\"\n\n\"Margaery says he will. We pray for him. We ask for the Mother's mercy, and for the Warrior to give him strength. Elinor says that this is Ser Loras's hardest battle.\"\n\nShe smoothed his hair back, the soft golden curls that reminded her so much of Joff. \"Will you be spending the afternoon with your wife and her cousins?\"\n\n\"Not today. She has to fast and purify herself, she said.\"\n\nFast and purify... oh, for Maiden's Day. It had been years since Cersei had been required to observe that particular holy day. Thrice wed, yet she still would have us believe she is a maid. Demure in white, the little queen would lead her hens to Baelor's Sept to light tall white candles at the Maiden's feet and hang parchment garlands about her holy neck. A few of her hens, at least. On Maiden's Day widows, mothers, and whores alike were barred from the septs, along with men, lest they profane the sacred songs of innocence. Only virgin maids could..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Mother? Did I say something wrong?\"\n\nCersei kissed her son's brow. \"You said something very wise, sweetling. Now run along and play with your kittens.\"\n\nAfterward she summoned Ser Osney Kettleblack to her solar. He came in sweaty from the yard and swaggering, and as he took a knee he undressed her with his eyes, the way he always did.\n\n\"Rise, ser, and sit here next tome. You did me a valiant service once, but now I have a harder task for you.\"\n\n\"Aye, and I have something hard for you.\"\n\n\"That must wait.\" She traced his scars lightly with the tips of her fingers. \"Do you recall the whore who gave these to you? I'll give her to you when you comeback from the Wall. Would you like that?\"\n\n\"It's you I want.\"\n\nThat was the right answer. \"First you must confess your treason. A man's sins can poison his soul if left to fester. I know it must be hard for you to live with what you've done. It is past time that you rid yourself of your shame.\"\n\n\"Shame?\" Osney sounded baffled. \"I told Osmund, Margaery just teases. She never lets me do anymore than...\"\n\n\"It is chivalrous of you to protect her,\" Cersei broke in, \"but you are too good a knight to goon living with your crime. No, you must take yourself to the Great Sept of Baelor this very night and speak with the High Septon. When a man's sins are so black, only His High Holiness himself can save him from hell's torments. Tell him how you bedded Margaery and her cousins.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Osney blinked. \"What, the cousins too?\"\n\n\"Megga and Elinor,\" she decided, \"never Alla.\" That little detail would make the whole story more plausible. \"Alla would sit weeping, and plead with the others to stop their sinning.\"\n\n\"Just Megga and Elinor? Or Margaery too?\"\n\n\"Margaery, most certainly. She was the one behind it all.\"\n\nShe told him all she had in mind. As Osney listened, apprehension slowly spread across his face. When she finished he said, \"After you cut her head off, I want to take that kiss she never gave me.\"\n\n\"You may take all the kisses you like.\"\n\n\"And then the Wall?\"\n\n\"For just a little while. Tommen is a forgiving king.\"\n\nOsney scratched at his scarred cheek. \"Usually if I lie about some woman, it's me saying how I never fucked them and them saying how I did. This... I never lied to no High Septon before. I think you go to some hell for that. One o\" the bad ones.\"\n\nThe queen was taken aback. The last thing she expected was piety from a Kettleblack. \"Are you refusing to obey me?\"\n\n\"No.\" Osney touched her golden hair. \"The thing is, the best lies have some truth in \"em... to give'em flavor, as it were. And you want me to go tell how I fucked a queen...\"\n\nShe almost slapped his face. Almost. But she had gone too far, and too much was at stake. All I do, I do for Tommen. She turned her head and caught Ser Osney's hand with her own, kissing his fingers. They were rough and hard, callused from the sword. Robert had hands like that, she thought."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cersei wrapped her arms about his neck. \"I would not want it said I made a liar of you,\" she whispered in a husky voice. \"Give mean hour, and meet me in my bedchamber.\"\n\n\"We waited long enough.\" He thrust his fingers inside the bodice of her gown and yanked, and the silk parted with a ripping sound so loud that Cersei was afraid that half of the Red Keep must have heard it. \"Takeoff the rest before I tear that too,\" he said. \"You can keep the crown on. I like you in the crown.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "THE PRINCESS IN THE TOWER\n\nHers was a gentle prison.\n\nArianne took solace from that. Why would her father go to such great pains to provide for her comfort in captivity if he had marked her fora traitor's death? He cannot mean to kill me, she told herself a hundred times. He does not have it in him to be so cruel. I am his blood and seed, his heir, his only daughter. If need be, she would throw herself beneath the wheels of his chair, admit her fault, and beg him for his pardon. And she would weep. When he saw tears rolling down her face, he would forgive her.\n\nShe was less certain whether she would forgive herself.\n\n\"Areo,\" she had pleaded with her captor during the long dry ride from the Greenblood back to Sunspear, \"I never wanted the girl to come to harm. You must believe me.\"\n\nHotah made no reply, except to grunt. Arianne could feel his anger. Darkstar had escaped him, the most dangerous of all her little group of plotters. He had outraced all his pursuers and vanished into the deep desert, with blood upon his blade.\n\n\"You know me, captain,\" Arianne had said, as the leagues rolled past. \"You have known me since I was little. You always kept me safe, as you kept my lady mother safe when you came with her from Great Norvos to be her shield in a strange land. I need you now. I need your help. I never meant-\"\n\n\"What you meant does not matter, little princess,\" Areo Hotah said. \"Only what you did.\" His countenance was stony. \"I am sorry. It is for my prince to command, for Hotah to obey.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arianne expected to be brought before her father's high seat beneath the dome of leaded glass in the Tower of the Sun. Instead, Hotah delivered her to the Spear Tower, and the custody of her father's seneschal Ricasso and Ser Manfrey Martell, the castellan. \"Princess,\" Ricasso said, \"you will forgive an old blind man if he does not make the climb with you. These legs are not equal to so many steps. A chamber has been prepared for you. Ser Manfrey shall escort you there, to await the prince's pleasure.\"\n\n\"The prince's displeasure, you mean. Will my friends be confined here as well?\" Arianne had been parted from Garin, Drey, and the others after capture, and Hotah had refused to say what would be done with them. \"That is for the prince to decide,\" was all the captain had to say upon the subject. Ser Manfrey proved a bit more forthcoming. \"They were taken to the Planky Town and will be conveyed by ship to Ghaston Grey, until such time as Prince Doran decides their fate.\"\n\nGhaston Grey was a crumbling old castle perched on a rock in the Sea of Dorne, a drear and dreadful prison where the vilest of criminals were sent to rot and die. \"Does my father mean to kill them?\" Arianne could not believe it. \"All they did they did for love for me. If my father must have blood, it should be mine.\"\n\n\"As you say, princess.\"\n\n\"I want to speak with him.\"\n\n\"He thought you might.\" Ser Manfrey took her arm and marched her up the steps, up and up until her breath grew short. The Spear Tower stood a hundred and a half feet high, and her cell was nearly at the top. Arianne eyed every door they passed, wondering if one of the Sand Snakes might be locked within."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When her own door had been closed and barred, Arianne explored her new home."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her cell was large and airy, and did not lack for comforts. There were Myrish carpets on the floor, red wine to drink, books to read. In one corner stood an ornate cyvasse table with pieces carved of ivory and onyx, though she had no one to play with even if she had been so inclined. She had a featherbed to sleep in, and a privy with a marble seat, sweetened by a basketful of herbs. This high up, the views were splendid. One window opened to the east, so she could watch the sunrise above the sea. The other allowed her to look down upon the Tower of the Sun, and the Winding Walls and Threefold Gate beyond.\n\nThe exploration took less time than it would have taken her to lace a pair of sandals, but at least it served to keep the tears at bay fora time. Arianne found a basin and a flagon of cool water and washed her hands and face, but no amount of scrubbing could cleanse her of her grief. Arys, she thought, my white knight. Tears filled her eyes, and suddenly she was weeping, her whole body wracked by sobs. She remembered how Hotah's heavy axe had cleaved through his flesh and bone, the way his head had gone spinning through the air. Why did you do it? Why throw your life away? I never told you to, I never wanted that, I only wanted... I wanted... I wanted...\n\nThat night she cried herself to sleep... for the first time, if not the last. Even in her dreams she found no peace. She dreamt of Arys Oakheart caressing her, smiling at her, telling her that he loved her... but all the while the quarrels were in him and his wounds were weeping, turning his whites to red. Part of her knew it was a nightmare, even as she dreamt it. Come morning all of this will vanish, the princess told herself, but when morning came, she was still in her cell, Ser Arys was still dead, and Myrcella... I never wanted that, never. I meant the girl no harm. All I wanted was for her to be a queen. If we had not been betrayed..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Someone told,\" Hotah had said. The memory still made her angry. Arianne clung to that, feeding the flame within her heart. Anger was better than tears, better than grief, better than guilt. Someone told, someone she had trusted. Arys Oakheart had died because of that, slain by the traitor's whisper as much as by the captain's axe. The blood that had streamed down Myrcella's face, that was the betrayer's work as well. Someone told, someone she had loved. That was the cruelest cut of all.\n\nShe found a cedar chest full of her clothes at the foot of her bed, so she stripped out of the travel-stained garb she had slept in and donned the most revealing garments she could find, wisps of silk that covered everything and hid nothing. Prince Doran might treat her like a child, but she refused to dress like one. She knew such garb would discomfit her father when he came to chastise her for making off with Myrcella. She counted on it. If I must crawl and weep, let him be uncomfortable as well.\n\nShe expected him that day, but when the door finally opened it proved to be only the servants with her midday meal. \"When might I see my father?\" she asked, but none of them would answer. The kid had been roasted with lemon and honey. With it were grape leaves stuffed with a mélange of raisins, onions, mushrooms, and fiery dragon peppers. \"I am not hungry,\" Arianne said. Her friends would be eating ship's biscuits and salt beef on their way to Ghaston Grey. \"Take this away and bring me Prince Doran.\" But they left the food, and her father did not come. After awhile, hunger weakened her resolve, so she sat and ate."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Once the food was gone, there was nothing else for Arianne to do."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She paced around her tower, twice and thrice and three times thrice. She sat beside the cyvasse table and idly moved an elephant. She curled up in the window seat and tried to read a book, until the words became a blur and she realized that she was crying again. Arys, my sweet, my white knight, why did you do it? You should have yielded. I tried to tell you, but the words caught in my mouth. You gallant fool, I never meant for you to die, or for Myrcella... oh, gods be good, that little girl...\n\nFinally, she crawled back onto the featherbed. The world had grown dark, and there was little she could do but sleep. Someone told, she thought. Someone told. Garin, Drey, and Spotted Sylva were friends of her girlhood, as dear to her as her cousin Tyene. She could not believe they would inform on her... but that left only Darkstar, and if he was the betrayer, why had he turned his sword on poor Myrcella? He wanted to kill her instead of crowning her, he said as much at Shandystone. He said that was how I'd get the war I wanted. But it made no sense for Dayne to be the traitor. If Ser Gerold had been the worm in the apple, why would he have turned his sword upon Myrcella?\n\nSomeone told. Could it have been Ser Arys? Had the white knight's guilt won out over his lust? Had he loved Myrcella more than her and betrayed his new princess to atone for his betrayal of the old? Was he so ashamed of what he'd done that he threw his life away at the Greenblood rather than live to face dishonor?\n\nSomeone told. When her father came to see her, she would learn which one. Prince Doran did not come the next day, though. Nor the day after. The princess was left alone to pace, and weep, and nurse her wounds. During the daylight hours she would try to read, but the books that they had given her were deadly dull: ponderous old histories and geographies, annotated maps, a dry-as-dust study of the laws of Dorne, The Seven-Pointed Star and Lives of the High Septons, a huge tome about dragons that somehow made them about as interesting as newts. Arianne would have given much and more fora copy of Ten Thousand Ships or The Loves of Queen Nymeria, anything to occupy her thoughts and let her escape her tower for an hour or two, but such amusements were denied her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "From her window seat, she had only to glance out to seethe great dome of gold and colored glass below her, where her father satin state. He will summon me soon, she told herself.\n\nNo visitors were permitted her beyond the servants; Bors with his stubbly jaw, tall Timoth dripping dignity, the sisters Morra and Mellei, pretty little Cedra, old Belandra who had been her mother's bedmaid. They brought her meals, changed her bed, and emptied the chamber pot beneath her privy, but none would speak with her. When she required more wine, Timoth would fetch it. If she desired some favorite food, figs or olives or peppers stuffed with cheese, she need only tell Belandra, and it would appear. Morra and Mellei took away her dirty clothes and returned them clean and fresh. Every second day a bath was brought for her, and shy little Cedra would soap her back and help her brush her hair.\n\nYet none of them had a word for her, nor would they deign to tell her what was happening in the world outside her sandstone cage. \"Has Darkstar been captured?\" she asked Bors one day. \"Are they still hunting for him?\" The man only turned his back on her and walked away. \"Have you gone deaf?\" Arianne snapped at him. \"Comeback here and answer me. I command it.\" Her only reply was the sound of a door closing.\n\n\"Timoth,\" she tried, another day, \"what has become of Princess Myrcella? I never meant for harm to come to her.\" The last she had seen of the other princess had been on their ride back to Sunspear. Too weak to sit a horse, Myrcella had traveled in a litter, her head bound up in silken bandages where Darkstar slashed at her, her green eyes bright with fever. \"Tell me that she has not died, I beg you. What harm could come of my knowing that? Tell me how she fares.\" Timoth would not."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Belandra,\" Arianne said, a few days later, \"if you ever loved my lady mother, take pity on her poor daughter and tell me when my father means to come and see me."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Please. Please.\" But Belandra had lost her tongue as well.\n\nIs this my father's notion of torment? Not hot irons or the rack, but simple silence? That was so very like Doran Martell that Arianne had to laugh. He thinks he is being subtle when he is only being feeble. She resolved to enjoy the quiet, to use the time to heal and fortify herself for what must come.\n\nIt was no good dwelling endlessly on Ser Arys, she knew. Instead, she made herself think about the Sand Snakes, Tyene especially. Arianne loved all her bastard cousins, from prickly, hot-tempered Obara to little Loreza, the youngest, only six years old. Tyene had always been the one she loved the most, though; the sweet sister that she never had. The princess had never been close to her brothers; Quentyn was off at Yronwood, and Trystane was too young. No, it had always been her and Tyene, with Garin and Drey and Spotted Sylva. Nym would sometimes join them in their sport, and Sarella was forever pushing in where she didn't belong, but for the most part they had been a company of five. They splashed in the pools and fountains of the Water Gardens, and rode into battle perched on one another's naked backs. She and Tyene had learned to read together, learned to ride together, learned to dance together. When they were ten Arianne had stolen a flagon of wine, and the two of them had gotten drunk together. They shared meals and beds and jewelry. They would have shared their first man as well, but Drey got too excited and spurted allover Tyene's fingers the moment she drew him from his breeches. Her hands are dangerous. The memory made her smile."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The more she thought about her cousins, the more the princess missed them."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For all I know, they might be right below me. That night Arianne tried pounding on the floor with the heel of her sandal. When no one answered, she leaned out a window and peered down. She could see other windows below, smaller than her own, some no more than arrow loops. \"Tyene!\" she called. \"Tyene, are you there? Obara, Nym? Can you hear me? Ellaria? Anyone? TYENE?\" The princess spent half the night hanging out the window, calling till her throat was raw, but no answering shouts came back to her. That frightened her more than she could say. If the Sand Snakes were imprisoned in the Spear Tower, they surely would have heard her shouting. Why didn't they answer? If Father has done them harm, I will never forgive him, never, she told herself.\n\nBy the time a fortnight had passed, her patience had worn paper-thin. \"I will speak with my father now,\" she told Bors, in her most commanding voice. \"You will take me to him.\" He did not take her to him. \"I am ready to seethe prince,\" she told Timoth, but he turned away as if he had not heard. The next morning, Arianne was waiting beside the door when it opened. She bolted past Belandra, sending a platter of spiced eggs to crash against the wall, but the guards caught her before she'd gone three yards. She knew them too, but they were deaf to her entreaties. They dragged her back to her cell, kicking and squirming.\n\nArianne decided that she must needs be more subtle. Cedra washer best hope; the girl was young, naive, and gullible. Garin had boasted of bedding her once, the princess recalled. The next time she bathed, as Cedra soaped her shoulders, she began to talk of everything and nothing. \"I know you have been commanded not to speak tome,\" she said, \"but no one told me not to speak to you.\" She spoke about the heat of the day, and what she'd had last night for supper, and how slow and stiff poor Belandra was becoming. Prince Oberyn had armed each of his daughters so they need never be defenseless, but Arianne Martell had no weapon but her guile. And so she smiled and charmed, and asked nothing in return of Cedra, neither word nor nod."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The next day at supper, she nattered at the girl again as she was serving. This time she contrived to mention Garin. Cedra glanced up shyly at his name and almost spilled the wine that she was pouring. So it is that way, is it? thought Arianne.\n\nDuring her next bath, she spoke of her imprisoned friends, especially Garin. \"He's the one I fear for most,\" she confided to the serving girl. \"The orphans are free spirits, they live to wander. Garin needs sunshine and fresh air. If they lock him away in some dank stone cell, how will he survive? He will not last a year at Ghaston Grey.\" Cedra did not reply, but her face was pale when Arianne rose from the water, and she was squeezing the sponge so tightly that soap was dripping on the Myrish carpet.\n\nEven so, it was four more days and two more baths before the girl washers. \"Please,\" Cedra finally whispered, after Arianne had painted a vivid picture of Garin throwing himself from the window of his cell, to taste freedom one last time before he died. \"You have to help him. Please don't let him die.\"\n\n\"I can do little and less so long as I am locked up here,\" she whispered back. \"My father will not see me. You are the only one who can save Garin. Do you love him?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Cedra whispered, blushing. \"But how can I help?\"\n\n\"You can smuggle out a letter for me,\" said the princess. \"Will do you that? Will you take the risk... for Garin?\"\n\nCedra's eyes got big. She nodded.\n\nI have a raven, Arianne thought, triumphantly, but who to send her to? The only one of her conspirators to escape her father's net was Darkstar. By now Ser Gerold might well have been taken, however; if not, he would surely have fled Dorne. Her next thought was of Garin's mother and the orphans of the Greenblood. No, not them. It must be someone with real power, someone who had no part of our plot yet might have reason to be sympathetic to us. She considered appealing to her own mother, but Lady Mellario was faraway in Norvos. Besides, Prince Doran had not listened to his lady wife for many years. Not her either. I need a lord, one great enough to cow my father into releasing me."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The most powerful of the Dornish lords was Anders Yronwood, the Bloodroyal, Lord of Yronwood and Warden of the Stone Way, but Arianne knew better than to look for help from the man who had fostered her brother Quentyn. No. Drey's brother Ser Deziel Dalt had once aspired to marry her, but he was much too dutiful to go against his prince. Besides, whilst the Knight of Lemonwood might intimidate a petty lord, he did not have the strength to sway the Prince of Dorne. No. The same was true of Spotted Sylva's father. No. Arianne finally decided that she had but two real hopes: Harmen Uller, Lord of Hellholt, and Franklyn Fowler, Lord of Skyreach and Warden of the Prince's Pass.\n\nHalf of the Ullers are half-mad, the saying went, and the other half are worse. Ellaria Sand was Lord Harmen's natural daughter. She and her little ones had been locked away with the rest of the Sand Snakes. That would have made Lord Harmen wroth, and the Ullers were dangerous when wroth. Too dangerous, perhaps. The princess did not want to put anymore lives in danger.\n\nLord Fowler might be a safer choice. The Old Hawk, he was called. He had never gotten on with Anders Yronwood; there was bad blood between their Houses going back a thousand years, from when the Fowlers had chosen Martell over Yronwood during Nymeria's War. The Fowler twins were famous friends of Lady Nym as well, but how much weight would that carry with the Old Hawk?\n\nFor days Arianne wavered as she composed her secret letter. \"Give the man who brings this to you a hundred silver stags,\" she began. That should ensure that the message was delivered. She wrote where she was, and pleaded for rescue. \"Whoever shall deliver me from this cell, he shall not be forgotten when I wed.\" That should bring the heroes running. Unless Prince Doran had attainted her, she remained the lawful heir to Sunspear; the man who married her would one day rule Dorne by her side. Arianne could only pray that her rescuer would prove younger than the greybeards her father had offered her over the years. \"I want a consort with teeth,\" she had told him when she refused the last."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She dare not ask for parchment for fear of rousing the suspicions of her captors, so she wrote the letter on the bottom of a page torn from The Seven-Pointed Star, and pressed it into Cedra's hand on her next bath day."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's a place beside the Threefold Gate where the caravans take on supplies before crossing the deep sand,\" Arianne told her. \"Find some traveler headed for the Prince's Pass, and promise him a hundred silver stags if he will put this in Lord Fowler's hand.\"\n\n\"I will.\" Cedra hid the message in her bodice. \"I'll find someone before the sun goes down, princess.\"\n\n\"Good,\" she said. \"Tell me how it went on the morrow.\"\n\nThe girl did not return upon the morrow, however. Nor on the day that followed. When it was time for Arianne to bathe, it was Morra and Mellei who filled her tub, and stayed to wash her back and brush her hair. \"Has Cedra taken ill?\" the princess asked them, but neither would reply. She has been caught was all that she could think. What else could it be? That night she hardly slept, for fear of what might come next.\n\nWhen Timoth brought her breakfast the next morning, Arianne asked to see Ricasso rather than her father. Plainly she could not compel Prince Doran to attend her, but surely a mere seneschal would not ignore a summons from the rightful heir to Sunspear.\n\nHe did, though. \"Did you tell Ricasso what I said?\" she demanded the next time she saw Timoth. \"Did you tell him I had need of him?\" When the man refused to answer her, Arianne seized a flagon of red wine and upended it over his head. The serving man retreated dripping, his face a mask of wounded dignity. My father means to leave me hereto rot, the princess decided. Or else he is making plans to marry me off to some disgusting old fool and intends to keep me locked away until the bedding."
}
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[
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"value": "Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 44"
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "\"As you say, my lady.\" Alayne remembered Petyr's warning.\n\n\"Randa. Come now, you can say it. Ran. Da.\"\n\n\"Randa.\"\n\n\"Much better. I fear I must apologize to you. You will think me a dreadful slut, I know, but I bedded that pretty boy Marillion. I did not know he was a monster. He sang beautifully, and could do the sweetest things with his fingers. I would never have taken him to bed if I had known he was going to push Lady Lysa through the Moon Door. I do not bed monsters, as a rule.\" She studied Alayne's face and chest. \"You are prettier than me, but my breasts are larger. The maesters say large breasts produce no more milk than small ones, but I do not believe it. Have you ever known a wet nurse with small teats? Yours are ample fora girl your age, but as they are bastard breasts, I shan't concern myself with them.\" Myranda edged her mule closer. \"You know our Mya's not a maid, I trust?\"\n\nShe did. Fat Maddy had whispered it to her, onetime when Mya brought up their supplies. \"Maddy told me.\"\n\n\"Of course she did. She has a mouth as big as her thighs, and her thighs are enormous. Mychel Redfort was the one. He used to be Lyn Corbray's squire. Areal squire, not like that loutish lad Ser Lyn's got squiring for him now. He only took that one on for coin, they say. Mychel was the best young swordsman in the Vale, and gallant... or so poor Mya thought, till hewed one of Bronze Yohn's daughters. Lord Horton gave him no choice in the matter, I am sure, but it was still a cruel thing to do to Mya.\""
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"value": "\"Ser Lothor is fond of her.\" Alayne glanced down at the mule girl, twenty steps below. \"More than fond.\"\n\n\"Lothor Brune?\" Myranda raised an eyebrow. \"Does she know?\" She did not wait for an answer. \"He has no hope, poor man. My father's tried to make a match for Mya, but she'll have none of them. She is half mule, that one.\"\n\nDespite herself, Alayne found herself warming to the older girl. She had not had a friend to gossip with since poor Jeyne Poole. \"Do you think Ser Lothor likes her as she is, in mail and leather?\" she asked the older girl, who seemed so worldly-wise. \"Or does he dream of her draped in silks and velvets?\"\n\n\"He's a man. He dreams of her naked.\"\n\nShe is trying to make me blush again.\n\nLady Myranda must have heard her thoughts. \"You do turn such a pretty shade of pink. When I blush I look quite like an apple. I have not blushed for years, though.\" She leaned closer. \"Does your father plan towed again?\"\n\n\"My father?\" Alayne had never considered that. Somehow the notion made her squirm. She found herself remembering the look on Lysa Arryn's face as she'd tumbled through the Moon Door.\n\n\"We all know how devoted he was to Lady Lysa,\" said Myranda, \"but he cannot mourn forever. He needs a pretty young wife to wash away his grief. I imagine he could have his pick of half the noble maidens in the Vale. Who could be a better husband than our own bold Lord Protector? Though I do wish he had a better name than Littlefinger. How little is it, do you know?\""
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"value": "\"His finger?\" She blushed again. \"I don't... I never...\"\n\nLady Myranda laughed so loud that Mya Stone glanced back at them. \"Never you mind, Alayne, I'm sure it's large enough.\"\n\nThey passed beneath a wind-carved arch, where long icicles clung to the pale stone, dripping down on them. On the far side the path narrowed and plunged down sharply fora hundred feet or more. Myranda was forced to drop back. Alayne gave the mule his head. The steepness of this part of the descent made her cling tightly to her saddle. The steps here had been worn smooth by the iron-shod hooves of all the mules who'd passed this way, until they resembled a series of shallow stone bowls. Water filled the bottoms of the bowls, glimmering golden in the afternoon sun. It is water now, Alayne thought, but come dark, all of it will turn to ice. She realized that she was holding her breath, and let it out. Mya Stone and Lord Robert had almost reached the rock spire where the slope leveled off again. She tried to look at them, and only them. I will not fall, she told herself. Mya's mule will see me through. The wind skirled around her, as she bumped and scraped her way down step by step. It seemed to take a lifetime.\n\nThen all at once she was at the bottom with Mya and her little lord, huddled beneath a twisted, rocky spire. Ahead stretched a high stone saddle, narrow and icy. Alayne could hear the wind shrieking, and feel it plucking at her cloak. She remembered this place from her ascent. It had frightened her then, and it frightened her now. \"It is wider than it looks,\" Mya was telling Lord Robert in a cheerful voice. \"A yard across, and no more than eight yards long, that's nothing.\""
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "\"Nothing,\" Robert said. His hand was shaking.\n\nOh, no, Alayne thought. Please. Not here. Not now.\n\n\"It's best to lead the mules across,\" Mya said. \"If it please my lord, I'll take mine over first, then comeback for yours.\" Lord Robert did not answer. He was staring at the narrow saddle with his reddened eyes. \"I shan't belong, my lord,\" Mya promised, but Alayne doubted that the boy could even hear her.\n\nWhen the bastard girl led her mule out from beneath the shelter of the spire, the wind caught her in its teeth. Her cloak lifted, twisting and flapping in the air. Mya staggered, and for half a heartbeat it seemed as if she would be blown over the precipice, but somehow she regained her balance and went on.\n\nAlayne took Robert's gloved hand in her own to stop his shaking. \"Sweetrobin,\" she said, \"I'm scared. Hold my hand, and help me get across. I know you're not afraid.\"\n\nHe looked at her, his pupils small dark pinpricks in eyes as big and white as eggs. \"I'm not?\"\n\n\"Not you. You're my winged knight, Ser Sweetrobin.\"\n\n\"The Winged Knight could fly,\" Robert whispered.\n\n\"Higher than the mountains.\" She gave his hand a squeeze.\n\nLady Myranda had joined them by the spire. \"He could,\" she echoed, when she saw what was happening.\n\n\"Ser Sweetrobin,\" Lord Robert said, and Alayne knew that she dare not wait for Mya to return. She helped the boy dismount, and hand in hand they walked out onto the bare stone saddle, their cloaks snapping and flapping behind them. All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And then they were on the other side, and Mya Stone was laughing and lifting Robert fora hug. \"Be careful,\" Alayne told her. \"He can hurt you, flailing. You wouldn't think so, but he can.\" They found a place for him, a cleft in the rock to keep him out of the cold wind. Alayne tended him until the shaking passed, whilst Mya went back to help the others cross.\n\nFresh mules awaited them at Snow, and a hot meal of stewed goat and onions. She ate with Mya and Myranda. \"So you're brave as well as beautiful,\" Myranda said to her.\n\n\"No.\" The compliment made her blush. \"I'm not. I was so scared. I don't think I could have crossed without Lord Robert.\" She turned to Mya Stone. \"You almost fell.\"\n\n\"You're mistaken. I never fall.\" Mya's hair had tumbled across her cheek, hiding one eye.\n\n\"Almost, I said. I saw you. Weren't you afraid?\"\n\nMya shook her head. \"I remember a man throwing me in the air when I was very little. He stands as tall as the sky, and he throws me up so high it feels as though I'm flying. We're both laughing, laughing so much that I can hardly catch a breath, and finally I laugh so hard I wet myself, but that only makes him laugh the louder. I was never afraid when he was throwing me. I knew that he would always be thereto catch me.\" She pushed her hair back. \"Then one day he wasn't. Men come and go. They lie, or die, or leave you. A mountain is not a man, though, and a stone is a mountain's daughter. I trust my father, and I trust my mules. I won't fall.\" She put her hand on a jagged spur of rock, and got to her feet. \"Best finish. We have along way yet to go, and I can smell a storm.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The snow began to fall as they were leaving Stone, the largest and lowest of the three waycastles that defended the approaches to the Eyrie."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dusk was settling by then. Lady Myranda suggested that perhaps they might turn back, spend the night at Stone, and resume their descent when the sun came up, but Mya would not hear of it. \"The snow might be five feet deep by then, and the steps treacherous even for my mules,\" she said. \"We will do better to press on. We'll take it slow.\"\n\nAnd so they did. Below Stone the steps were broader and less steep, winding in and out of the tall pines and grey-green sentinels that cloaked the lower slopes of the Giant's Lance. Mya's mules knew every root and rock on the way down, it seemed, and any they forgot the bastard girl remembered. Half the night was gone before they sighted the lights of the Gates of the Moon through the falling snow. The last part of their journey was the most peaceful. The snow fell steadily, cloaking all the world in white. Sweetrobin drifted to sleep in the saddle, swaying back and forthwith the motion of his mule. Even Lady Myranda began to yawn and complain of being weary. \"We have apartments prepared for all of you,\" she told Alayne, \"but if you like you may share my bed tonight. It's large enough for four.\"\n\n\"I should be honored, my lady.\"\n\n\"Randa. Count yourself fortunate that I'm so tired. All I want to do is curl up and go to sleep. Usually when ladies share my bed they have to pay a pillow tax and tell me all about the wicked things they've done.\"\n\n\"What if they haven't done any wicked things?\"\n\n\"Why, then they must confess all the wicked things they want to do. Not you, of course. I can see how virtuous you are just by looking at those rosy cheeks and big blue eyes of yours.\" She yawned again. \"I hope your feet are warm. I do hate bedmaids with cold feet.\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "By the time they finally reached her father's castle, Lady Myranda was drowsing too, and Alayne was dreaming of her bed. It will be a featherbed, she told herself, soft and warm and deep, piled high with furs. I will dream a sweet dream, and when I wake there will be dogs barking, women gossiping beside the well, swords ringing in the yard. And later there will be a feast, with music and dancing. After the deathly silence of the Eyrie, she yearned for shouts and laughter.\n\nAs the riders were climbing off their mules, however, one of Petyr's guardsmen emerged from within the keep. \"Lady Alayne,\" he said, \"the Lord Protector has been waiting for you.\"\n\n\"He's back?\" she said, startled.\n\n\"At evenfall. You'll find him in the west tower.\"\n\nThe hour was closer to dawn than to dusk, and most of the castle was asleep, but not Petyr Baelish. Alayne found him seated by a crackling fire, drinking hot mulled wine with three men she did not know. They all rose when she entered, and Petyr smiled warmly. \"Alayne. Come, give your father a kiss.\"\n\nShe hugged him dutifully and kissed him on the cheek. \"I am sorry to intrude, Father. No one told me you had company.\"\n\n\"You are never an intrusion, sweetling. I was just now telling these good knights what a dutiful daughter I had.\"\n\n\"Dutiful and beautiful,\" said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders.\n\n\"Aye,\" said the second knight, a burly fellow with a thick salt-and-pepper beard, a red nose bulbous with broken veins, and gnarled hands as large as hams. \"You left out that part, m'lord.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I would do the same if she were my daughter,\" said the last knight, a short, wiry man with awry smile, pointed nose, and bristly orange hair. \"Particularly around louts like us.\"\n\nAlayne laughed. \"Are you louts?\" she said, teasing. \"Why, I took the three of you for gallant knights.\"\n\n\"Knights they are,\" said Petyr. \"Their gallantry has yet to be demonstrated, but we may hope. Allow me to present Ser Byron, Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich. Sers, the Lady Alayne, my natural and very clever daughter... with whom I must needs confer, if you will be so good as to excuse us.\"\n\nThe three knights bowed and withdrew, though the tall one with the blond hair kissed her hand before taking his leave.\n\n\"Hedge knights?\" said Alayne, when the door had closed.\n\n\"Hungry knights. I thought it best that we have a few more swords about us. The times grow evermore interesting, my sweet, and when the times are interesting you can never have too many swords. The Merling King's returned to Gulltown, and old Oswell had some tales to tell.\"\n\nShe knew better than to ask what sort of tales. If Petyr had wanted her to know, he would have told her. \"I did not expect you back so soon,\" she said. \"I am glad you've come.\"\n\n\"I would never have known it from the kiss you gave me.\" He pulled her closer, caught her face between his hands, and kissed heron the lips fora longtime. \"Now that's the sort of kiss that says welcome home. See that you do better next time.\"\n\n\"Yes, Father.\" She could feel herself blushing."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He did not hold her kiss against her. \"You would not believe half of what is happening in King's Landing, sweetling. Cersei stumbles from one idiocy to the next, helped along by her council of the deaf, the dim, and the blind. I always anticipated that she would beggar the realm and destroy herself, but I never expected she would do it quite so fast. It is quite vexing. I had hoped to have four or five quiet years to plant some seeds and allow some fruits to ripen, but now... it is a good thing that I thrive on chaos. What little peace and order the five kings left us will not long survive the three queens, I fear.\"\n\n\"Three queens?\" She did not understand.\n\nNor did Petyr choose to explain. Instead, he smiled and said, \"I have brought my sweet girl back a gift.\"\n\nAlayne was as pleased as she was surprised. \"Is it a gown?\" She had heard there were fine seamstresses in Gulltown, and she was so tired of dressing drably.\n\n\"Something better. Guess again.\"\n\n\"Jewels?\"\n\n\"No jewels could hope to match my daughter's eyes.\"\n\n\"Lemons? Did you find some lemons?\" She had promised Sweetrobin lemon cake, and for lemon cake you needed lemons.\n\nPetyr Baelish took her by the hand and drew her down onto his lap. \"I have made a marriage contract for you.\"\n\n\"A marriage...\" Her throat tightened. She did not want towed again, not now, perhaps not ever. \"I do not... I cannot marry. Father, I...\" Alayne looked to the door, to make certain it was closed. \"I am married,\" she whispered. \"You know.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Petyr put a finger to her lips to silence her. \"The dwarf wed Ned Stark's daughter, not mine. Be that as it may. This is only a betrothal. The marriage must needs wait until Cersei is done and Sansa's safely widowed. And you must meet the boy and win his approval. Lady Waynwood will not make him marry against his will, she was quite firm on that.\"\n\n\"Lady Waynwood?\" Alayne could hardly believe it. \"Why would she marry one of her sons to... to a...\"\n\n\"... bastard? Fora start, you are the Lord Protector's bastard, never forget. The Waynwoods are very old and very proud, but not as rich as one might think, as I discovered when I began buying up their debt. Not that Lady Anya would ever sell a son for gold. Award, however... young Harry's only a cousin, and the dower that I offered her ladyship was even larger than the one that Lyonel Corbray just collected. It had to be, for her to risk Bronze Yohn's wroth. This will put all his plans awry. You are promised to Harrold Hardyng, sweetling, provided you can win his boyish heart... which should not be hard, for you.\"\n\n\"Harry the Heir?\" Alayne tried to recall what Myranda had told her about him on the mountain. \"He was just knighted. And he has a bastard daughter by some common girl.\"\n\n\"And another on the way by a different wench. Harry can be a beguiling one, no doubt. Soft sandy hair, deep blue eyes, and dimples when he smiles. And very gallant, I am told.\" He teased her with a smile. \"Bastard-born or no, sweetling, when this match is announced you will be the envy of every highborn maiden in the Vale, and a few from the riverlands and the Reach as well.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why?\" Alayne was lost. \"Is Ser Harrold... how could he be Lady Waynwood's heir? Doesn't she have sons of her own blood?\"\n\n\"Three,\" Petyr allowed. She could smell the wine on his breath, the cloves and nutmeg. \"Daughters too, and grandsons.\"\n\n\"Won't they come before Harry? I don't understand.\"\n\n\"You will. Listen.\" Petyr took her hand in his own and brushed his finger lightly down the inside of her palm. \"Lord Jasper Arryn, begin with him. Jon Arryn's father. He begot three children, two sons and a daughter. Jon was the eldest, so the Eyrie and the lordship passed to him. His sister Alys wed Ser Elys Waynwood, uncle to the present Lady Waynwood.\" He made awry face. \"Elys and Alys, isn't that precious? Lord Jasper's younger son, Ser Ronnel Arryn, wed a Belmore girl, but only rang her once or twice before dying of a bad belly. Their son Elbert was being born in one bed even as poor Ronnel was dying in another down the hall. Are you paying close attention, sweetling?\"\n\n\"Yes. There was Jon and Alys and Ronnel, but Ronnel died.\"\n\n\"Good. Now, Jon Arryn married thrice, but his first two wives gave him no children, so for long years his nephew Elbert was his heir. Meantime, Elys was plowing Alys quite dutifully, and she was whelping once a year. She gave him nine children, eight girls and one precious little boy, another Jasper, after which she died exhausted. Boy Jasper, inconsiderate of the heroic efforts that had gone into begetting him, got himself kicked in the head by a horse when he was three years old. A pox took two of his sisters soon after, leaving six. The eldest married Ser Denys Arryn, a distant cousin to the Lords of the Eyrie. There are several branches of House Arryn scattered across the Vale, all as proud as they are penurious, save for the Gulltown Arryns, who had the rare good sense to marry merchants. They're rich, but less than couth, so no one talks about them. Ser Denys hailed from one of the poor, proud branches... but he was also a renowned jouster, handsome and gallant and brimming with courtesy. And he had that magic Arryn name, which made him ideal for the eldest Waynwood girl. Their children would be Arryns, and the next heirs to the Vale should any ill befall Elbert. Well, as it happened, Mad King Aerys befell Elbert. You know that story?\""
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"value": "She did. \"The Mad King murdered him.\"\n\n\"He did indeed. And soon after, Ser Denys left his pregnant Waynwood wife to ride to war. He died during the Battle of the Bells, of an excess of gallantry and an axe. When they told his lady of his death she perished of grief, and her newborn son soon followed. No matter. Jon Arryn had gotten himself a young wife during the war, one he had reason to believe fertile. He was very hopeful, I'm sure, but you and I know that all he ever got from Lysa were stillbirths, miscarriages, and poor Sweetrobin.\n\n\"Which brings us back to the five remaining daughters of Elys and Alys. The eldest had been left terribly scarred by the same pox that killed her sisters, so she became a septa. Another was seduced by a sellsword. Ser Elys cast her out, and she joined the silent sisters after her bastard died in infancy. The third wed the Lord of the Paps, but proved barren. The fourth was on her way to the riverlands to marry some Bracken when Burned Men carried her off. That left the youngest, who wed a landed knight sworn to the Waynwoods, gave him a son that she named Harrold, and perished.\" He turned her handover and lightly kissed her wrist. \"So tell me, sweetling-why is Harry the Heir?\"\n\nHer eyes widened. \"He is not Lady Waynwood's heir. He's Robert's heir. If Robert were to die...\"\n\nPetyr arched an eyebrow. \"When Robert dies. Our poor brave Sweetrobin is such a sickly boy, it is only a matter of time. When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon... and when they come together for his wedding, and you come outwith your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back... why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa... Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell. That's worth another kiss now, don't you think?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "BRIENNE\n\nThis is an evil dream, she thought. But if she were dreaming, why did it hurt so much?\n\nThe rain had stopped falling, but all the world was wet. Her cloak felt as heavy as her mail. The ropes that bound her wrists were soaked through, but that only made them tighter. No matter how Brienne turned her hands, she could not slip free. She did not understand who had bound her, or why. She tried to ask the shadows, but they did not answer. Perhaps they did not hear her. Perhaps they were not real. Under her layers of wet wool and rusting mail, her skin was flushed and feverish. She wondered whether all of this was just a fever dream.\n\nShe had a horse beneath her, though she could not remember mounting. She lay facedown across his hindquarters, like a sack of oats. Her wrists and ankles had been lashed together. The air was damp, the ground cloaked in mist. Her head pounded with every step. She could hear voices, but all she could see was the earth beneath the horse's hooves. There were things broken inside of her. Her face felt swollen, her cheek was sticky with blood, and every jounce and bounce send a stab of agony through her arm. She could hear Podrick calling her, as if from faraway. \"Ser?\" he kept saying. \"Ser? My lady? Ser? My lady?\" His voice was faint and hard to hear. Finally, there was only silence.\n\nShe dreamt she was at Harrenhal, down in the bear pit once again. This time it was Biter facing her, huge and bald and maggot-white, with weeping sores upon his cheeks. Naked he came, fondling his member, gnashing his filed teeth together. Brienne fled from him. \"My sword,\" she called. \"Oathkeeper. Please.\" The watchers did not answer. Renly was there, with Nimble Dick and Catelyn Stark. Shagwell, Pyg, and Timeon had come, and the corpses from the trees with their sunken cheeks, swollen tongues, and empty eye sockets. Brienne wailed in horror at the sight of them, and Biter grabbed her arm and yanked her close and tore a chunk from her face. \"Jaime,\" she heard herself scream, \"Jaime.\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even in the depths of dream the pain was there. Her face throbbed. Her shoulder bled. Breathing hurt. The pain crackled up her arm like lightning. She cried out fora maester.\n\n\"We have no maester,\" said a girl's voice. \"Only me.\"\n\nI am looking fora girl, Brienne remembered. A highborn maid of three-and-ten, with blue eyes and auburn hair. \"My lady?\" she said. \"Lady Sansa?\"\n\nA man laughed. \"She thinks you're Sansa Stark.\"\n\n\"She can't go much farther. She'll die.\"\n\n\"One less lion. I won't weep.\"\n\nBrienne heard the sound of someone praying. She thought of Septon Meribald, but all the words were wrong. The night is dark and full of terrors, and so are dreams.\n\nThey were riding through a gloomy wood, a dank, dark, silent place where the pines pressed close. The ground was soft beneath her horse's hooves, and the tracks she left behind filled up with blood. Beside her rode Lord Renly, Dick Crabb, and Vargo Hoat. Blood ran from Renly's throat. The Goat's torn ear oozed pus. \"Where are we going?\" Brienne asked. \"Where are you taking me?\" None of them would answer. How can they answer? All of them are dead. Did that mean that she was dead as well?\n\nLord Renly was ahead of her, her sweet smiling king. He was leading her horse through the trees. Brienne called out to tell him how much she loved him, but when he turned to scowl at her, she saw that he was not Renly after all. Renly never scowled. He always had a smile for me, she thought... except..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Cold,\" her king said, puzzled, and a shadow moved without a man to cast it, and her sweet lord's blood came washing through the green steel of his gorget to drench her hands."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had been a warm man, but his blood was cold as ice. This is not real, she told herself. This is another bad dream, and soon I'll wake.\n\nHer mount came to a sudden halt. Rough hands seized hold of her. She saw shafts of red afternoon light slanting through the branches of a chestnut tree. A horse rooted amongst the dead leaves after chestnuts, and men moved nearby, talking in quiet voices. Ten, twelve, maybe more. Brienne did not recognize their faces. She was stretched out on the ground, her back against a tree trunk. \"Drink this, m'lady,\" said the girl's voice. She lifted a cup to Brienne's lips. The taste was strong and sour. Brienne spat it out. \"Water,\" she gasped. \"Please. Water.\"\n\n\"Water won't help the pain. This will. A little.\" The girl put the cup to Brienne's lips again.\n\nIt even hurt to drink. Wine ran down her chin and dribbled on her chest. When the cup was empty the girl filled it from a skin. Brienne sucked it down until she sputtered. \"No more.\"\n\n\"More. You have a broken arm, and some of your ribs is cracked. Two, maybe three.\"\n\n\"Biter,\" Brienne said, remembering the weight of him, the way his knee had slammed into her chest.\n\n\"Aye. Areal monster, that one.\"\n\nIt all came back to her; lightning above and mud below, the rain pinging softly against the dark steel of the Hound's helm, the terrible strength in Biter's hands. Suddenly she could not stand being bound. She tried to wrench free of her ropes, but all that did was chafe her worse. Her wrists were tied too tightly. There was dried blood on the hemp. \"Is he dead?\" She trembled. \"Biter. Is he dead?\" She remembered his teeth tearing into the flesh of her face. The thought that he might still be out there somewhere, breathing, made Brienne want to scream."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He's dead. Gendry shoved a spearpoint through the back of his neck. Drink, m'lady, or I'll pour it down your throat.\"\n\nShe drank. \"I am looking fora girl,\" she whispered, between swallows. She almost said my sister. \"A highborn maid of three-and-ten. She has blue eyes and auburn hair.\"\n\n\"I'm not her.\"\n\nNo. Brienne could see that. The girl was thin to the point of looking starved. She wore her brown hair in a braid, and her eyes were older than her years. Brown hair, brown eyes, plain. Willow, six years older. \"You're the sister. The innkeep.\"\n\n\"I might be.\" The girl squinted. \"What if I am?\"\n\n\"Do you have a name?\" Brienne asked. Her stomach gurgled. She was afraid that she might retch.\n\n\"Heddle. Same as Willow. Jeyne Heddle.\"\n\n\"Jeyne. Untie my hands. Please. Have pity. The ropes are chafing my wrists. I'm bleeding.\"\n\n\"It's not allowed. You're to stay bound, till...\"\n\n\"... till you stand before m'lady.\" Renly stood behind the girl, pushing his black hair out of his eyes. Not Renly. Gendry. \"M'lady means for you to answer for your crimes.\"\n\n\"M'lady.\" The wine was making her head spin. It was hard to think. \"Stoneheart. Is that who you mean?\" Lord Randyll had spoken of her, back at Maidenpool. \"Lady Stoneheart.\"\n\n\"Some call her that. Some call her other things. The Silent Sister. Mother Merciless. The Hangwoman.\""
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"value": "The Hangwoman. When Brienne closed her eyes, she saw the corpses swaying underneath the bare brown limbs, their faces black and swollen. Suddenly she was desperately afraid. \"Podrick. My squire. Where is Podrick? And the others... Ser Hyle, Septon Meribald. Dog. What did you do with Dog?\"\n\nGendry and the girl exchanged a look. Brienne fought to rise, and managed to get one knee under her before the world began to spin. \"It was you killed the dog, m'lady,\" she heard Gendry say, just before the darkness swallowed her again.\n\nThen she was back at the Whispers, standing amongst the ruins and facing Clarence Crabb. He was huge and fierce, mounted on an aurochs shaggier than he was. The beast pawed the ground in fury, tearing deep furrows in the earth. Crabb's teeth had been filed into points. When Brienne went to draw her sword, she found her scabbard empty. \"No,\" she cried, as Ser Clarence charged. It wasn't fair. She could not fight without her magic sword. Ser Jaime had given it to her. The thought of failing him as she had failed Lord Renly made her want to weep. \"My sword. Please, I have to find my sword.\"\n\n\"The wench wants her sword back,\" a voice declared.\n\n\"And I want Cersei Lannister to suck my cock. So what?\"\n\n\"Jaime called it Oathkeeper. Please.\" But the voices did not listen, and Clarence Crabb thundered down on her and swept off her head. Brienne spiraled down into a deeper darkness.\n\nShe dreamed that she was lying in a boat, her head pillowed on someone's lap. There were shadows all around them, hooded men in mail and leather, paddling them across a foggy river with muffled oars. She was drenched in sweat, burning, yet somehow shivering too. The fog was full of faces. \"Beauty,\" whispered the willows on the bank, but the reeds said, \"freak, freak.\" Brienne shuddered. \"Stop,\" she said. \"Someone make them stop.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The next time she woke, Jeyne was holding a cup of hot soup to her lips. Onion broth, Brienne thought. She drank as much of it as she could, until a bit of carrot caught in her throat and made her choke. Coughing was agony. \"Easy,\" the girl said.\n\n\"Gendry,\" she wheezed. \"I have to talk with Gendry.\"\n\n\"He turned back at the river, m'lady. He's gone back to his forge, to Willow and the little ones, to keep them safe.\"\n\nNo one can keep them safe. She began to cough again. \"Ah, let her choke. Save us a rope.\" One of the shadow men shoved the girl aside. He was clad in rusted rings and a studded belt. At his hip hung longsword and dirk. A yellow greatcloak was plastered to his shoulders, sodden and filthy. From his shoulders rose a steel dog's head, its teeth bared in a snarl.\n\n\"No,\" Brienne moaned. \"No, you're dead, I killed you.\"\n\nThe Hound laughed. \"You got that backwards. It'll be me killing you. I'd do it now, but m'lady wants to see you hanged.\"\n\nHanged. The word sent a jolt of fear through her. She looked at the girl, Jeyne. She is too young to be so hard. \"Bread and salt,\" Brienne gasped. \"The inn... Septon Meribald fed the children... we broke bread with your sister...\"\n\n\"Guest right don't mean so much as it used to,\" said the girl. \"Not since m'lady comeback from the wedding. Some o' them swinging down by the river figured they was guests too.\""
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"value": "\"We figured different,\" said the Hound. \"They wanted beds. We gave 'em trees.\"\n\n\"We got more trees, though,\" put in another shadow, one-eyed beneath a rusty pothelm. \"We always got more trees.\"\n\nWhen it was time to mount again, they yanked a leather hood down over her face. There were no eyeholes. The leather muffled the sounds around her. The taste of onions lingered on her tongue, sharp as the knowledge of her failure. They mean to hang me. She thought of Jaime, of Sansa, of her father back on Tarth, and was glad for the hood. It helped hide the tears welling in her eyes. From time to time she heard the outlaws talking, but she could not make out their words. After awhile she gave herself up to weariness and the slow, steady motion of her horse.\n\nThis time she dreamed that she was home again, at Evenfall. Through the tall arched windows of her lord father's hall she could seethe sun just going down. I was safe here. I was safe.\n\nShe was dressed in silk brocade, a quartered gown of blue and red decorated with golden suns and silver crescent moons. On another girl it might have been a pretty gown, but not on her. She was twelve, ungainly and uncomfortable, waiting to meet the young knight her father had arranged for her to marry, a boy six years her senior, sure to be a famous champion one day. She dreaded his arrival. Her bosom was too small, her hands and feet too big. Her hair kept sticking up, and there was a pimple nestled in the fold beside her nose. \"He will bring arose for you,\" her father promised her, but arose was no good, arose could not keep her safe. It was a sword she wanted. Oathkeeper. I have to find the girl. I have to find his honor."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Finally the doors opened, and her betrothed strode into her father's hall."
},
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"value": "She tried to greet him as she had been instructed, only to have blood come pouring from her mouth. She had bitten her tongue off as she waited. She spat it at the young knight's feet, and saw the disgust on his face. \"Brienne the Beauty,\" he said in a mocking tone. \"I have seen sows more beautiful than you.\" He tossed the rose in her face. Ashe walked away, the griffins on his cloak rippled and blurred and changed to lions. Jaime! she wanted to cry. Jaime, comeback for me! But her tongue lay on the floor by the rose, drowned in blood.\n\nBrienne woke suddenly, gasping.\n\nShe did not know where she was. The air was cold and heavy, and smelled of earth and worms and mold. She was lying on a pallet beneath a mound of sheepskins, with rock above her head and roots poking through the walls. The only light came from a tallow candle, smoking in a pool of melted wax.\n\nShe pushed aside the sheepskins. Someone had stripped her of her clothes and armor, she saw. She was clad in a brown woolen shift, thin but freshly washed. Her forearm had been splinted and bound up with linen, though. One side of her face felt wet and stiff. When she touched herself, she found some sort of damp poultice covering her cheek and jaw and ear. Biter...\n\nBrienne got to her feet. Her legs felt weak as water, her head as light as air. \"Is anyone there?\"\n\nSomething moved in one of the shadowed alcoves behind the candle; an old grey man clad in rags. The blankets that had covered him slipped to the floor. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. \"Lady Brienne? You gave me a fright. I was dreaming.\""
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"value": "No, she thought, that was me. \"What place is this? Is this a dungeon?\"\n\n\"A cave. Like rats, we must run back to our holes when the dogs come sniffing after us, and there are more dogs everyday.\" He was clad in the ragged remains of an old robe, pink and white. His hair was long and grey and tangled, the loose skin of his cheeks and chin was covered with coarse stubble. \"Are you hungry? Could you keep down a cup of milk? Perhaps some bread and honey?\"\n\n\"I want my clothes. My sword.\" She felt naked without her mail, and she wanted Oathkeeper at her side. \"The way out. Show me the way out.\" The floor of the cave was dirt and stone, rough beneath the soles of her feet. Even now she felt light-headed, as if she were floating. The flickering light cast queer shadows. Spirits of the slain, she thought, dancing all about me, hiding when I turn to look at them. Everywhere she saw holes and cracks and crevices, but there was noway to know which passages led out, which would take her deeper into the cave, and which went nowhere. All were black as pitch.\n\n\"Might I feel your brow, my lady?\" Her gaoler's hand was scarred and hard with callus, yet strangely gentle. \"Your fever has broken,\" he announced, in a voice flavored with the accents of the Free Cities. \"Welland good. Just yesterday your flesh felt as if it were on fire. Jeyne feared that we might lose you.\"\n\n\"Jeyne. The tall girl?\"\n\n\"The very one. Though she is not so tall as you, my lady. Long Jeyne, the men call her. It was she who set your arm and splinted it, as well as any maester. She did what she could for your face as well, washing out the wounds with boiled ale to stop the mortification. Even so... a human bite is a filthy thing. That is where the fever came from, I am certain.\" The grey man touched her bandaged face. \"We had to cutaway some of the flesh. Your face will not be pretty, I fear.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It has never been pretty. \"Scars, you mean?\"\n\n\"My lady, that creature chewed off half your cheek.\"\n\nBrienne could not help but flinch. Every knight has battle scars, Ser Goodwin had warned her, when she asked him to teach her the sword. Is that what you want, child? Her old master-at-arms had been talking about sword cuts, though; he could never have anticipated Biter's pointed teeth. \"Why set my bones and wash my wounds if you only mean to hang me?\"\n\n\"Why indeed?\" He glanced at the candle, as if he could no longer bear to look at her. \"You fought bravely at the inn, they tell me. Lem should not have left the crossroads. He was told to stay close, hidden, to come at once if he saw smoke rising from the chimney... but when word reached him that the Mad Dog of Saltpans had been seen making his way north along the Green Fork, he took the bait. We have been hunting that lot for so long... still, he ought to have known better. As it was, it was half a day before he realized that the mummers had used a stream to hide their tracks and doubled back behind him, and then he lost more time circling around a column of Frey knights. If not for you, only corpses might have remained at the inn by the time that Lem and his men got back. That was why Jeyne dressed your wounds, mayhaps. Whatever else you may have done, you won those wounds honorably, in the best of causes.\"\n\nWhatever else you may have done. \"What is it that you think I've done?\" she said. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"We were king's men when we began,\" the man told her, \"but king's men must have a king, and we have none. We were brothers too, but now our brotherhood is broken. I do not know who we are, if truth be told, nor where we might be going. I only know the road is dark. The fires have not shown me what lies at its end.\""
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"value": "I know where it ends. I have seen the corpses in the trees. \"Fires,\" Brienne repeated. All at once she understood. \"You are the Myrish priest. The red wizard.\"\n\nHe looked down at his ragged robes, and smiled ruefully. \"The pink pretender, rather. I am Thoros, late of Myr, aye... a bad priest and a worse wizard.\"\n\n\"You ride with the Dondarrion. The lightning lord.\"\n\n\"Lightning comes and goes and then is seen no more. So too with men. Lord Beric's fire has gone out of this world, I fear. A grimmer shadow leads us in his place.\"\n\n\"The Hound?\"\n\nThe priest pursed his lips. \"The Hound is dead and buried.\"\n\n\"I saw him. In the woods.\"\n\n\"A fever dream, my lady.\"\n\n\"He said that he would hang me.\"\n\n\"Even dreams can lie. My lady, how long has it been since you have eaten? Surely you are famished?\"\n\nShe was, she realized. Her belly felt hollow. \"Food... food would be welcome, thank you.\"\n\n\"A meal, then. Sit. We will talk more, but first a meal. Wait here.\" Thoros lit a taper from the sagging candle, and vanished into a black hole beneath a ledge of rock. Brienne found herself alone in the small cave. For how long, though?\n\nShe prowled the chamber, looking fora weapon. Any sort of weapon would have served; a staff, a club, a dagger. She found only rocks. One fit her fist nicely... but she remembered the Whispers, and what happened when Shagwell tried to pita stone against a knife. When she heard the priest's returning footsteps, she let the rockfall to the cavern floor and resumed her seat."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Thoros had bread and cheese and a bowl of stew. \"I am sorry,\" he said. \"The last of the milk had soured, and the honey is all gone. Food grows scant. Still, this will fill you.\"\n\nThe stew was cold and greasy, the bread hard, the cheese harder. Brienne had never eaten anything half so good. \"Are my companions here?\" she asked the priest, as she was spooning up the last of the stew.\n\n\"The septon was set free to go upon his way. There was no harm in him. The others are here, awaiting judgment.\"\n\n\"Judgment?\" She frowned. \"Podrick Payne is just a boy.\"\n\n\"He says he is a squire.\"\n\n\"You know how boys will boast.\"\n\n\"The Imp's squire. He has fought in battles, by his own admission. He has even killed, to hear him tell it.\"\n\n\"A boy,\" she said again. \"Have pity.\"\n\n\"My lady,\" Thoros said, \"I do not doubt that kindness and mercy and forgiveness can still be found somewhere in these Seven Kingdoms, but do not look for them here. This is a cave, not a temple. When men must live like rats in the dark beneath the earth, they soon run out of pity, as they do of milk and honey.\"\n\n\"And justice? Can that be found in caves?\"\n\n\"Justice.\" Thoros smiled wanly. \"I remember justice. It had a pleasant taste. Justice was what we were about when Beric led us, or so we told ourselves. We were king's men, knights, and heroes... but some knights are dark and full of terror, my lady. War makes monsters of us all.\"\n\n\"Are you saying you are monsters?\""
},
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"value": "\"I am saying we are human. You are not the only one with wounds, Lady Brienne. Some of my brothers were good men when this began. Some were... less good, shall we say? Though there are those who say it does not matter how a man begins, but only how he ends. I suppose it is the same for women.\" The priest got to his feet. \"Our time together is at an end, I fear. I hear my brothers coming. Our lady sends for you.\"\n\nBrienne heard their footsteps and saw torchlight flickering in the passage. \"You told me she had gone to Fairmarket.\"\n\n\"And so she had. She returned whilst we were sleeping. She never sleeps herself.\"\n\nI will not be afraid, she told herself, but it was too late for that. I will not let them see my fear, she promised herself instead. There were four of them, hard men with haggard faces, clad in mail and scale and leather. She recognized one of them; the man with one eye, from her dreams.\n\nThe biggest of the four wore a stained and tattered yellow cloak. \"Enjoy the food?\" he asked. \"I hope so. It's the last food you're ever like to eat.\" He was brown-haired, bearded, brawny, with a broken nose that had healed badly. I know this man, Brienne thought. \"You are the Hound.\"\n\nHe grinned. His teeth were awful; crooked, and streaked brown with rot. \"I suppose I am. Seeing as how m'lady went and killed the last one.\" He turned his head and spat.\n\nShe remembered lightning flashing, the mud beneath her feet. \"It was Rorge I killed. He took the helm from Clegane's grave, and you stole it off his corpse.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I didn't hear him objecting.\"\n\nThoros sucked in his breath in dismay. \"Is this true? A dead man's helm? Have we fallen that low?\"\n\nThe big man scowled at him. \"It's good steel.\"\n\n\"There is nothing good about that helm, nor the men who wore it,\" said the red priest. \"Sandor Clegane was a man in torment, and Rorge a beast inhuman skin.\"\n\n\"I'm not them.\"\n\n\"Then why show the world their face? Savage, snarling, twisted... is that who you would be, Lem?\"\n\n\"The sight of it will make my foes afraid.\"\n\n\"The sight of it makes me afraid.\"\n\n\"Close your eyes, then.\" The man in the yellow cloak made a sharp gesture. \"Bring the whore.\"\n\nBrienne did not resist. There were four of them, and she was weak and wounded, naked beneath the woolen shift. She had to bend her neck to keep from hitting her head as they marched her through the twisting passage. The way ahead rose sharply, turning twice before emerging in a much larger cavern full of outlaws.\n\nAfire pit had been dug into the center of the floor, and the air was blue with smoke. Men clustered near the flames, warming themselves against the chill of the cave. Others stood along the walls or sat cross-legged on straw pallets. There were women too, and even a few children peering out from behind their mothers' skirts. The one face Brienne knew belonged to Long Jeyne Heddle.\n\nA trestle table had been setup across the cave, in a cleft in the rock. Behind it sat a woman all in grey, cloaked and hooded. In her hands was a crown, a bronze circlet ringed by iron swords. She was studying it, her fingers stroking the blades as if to test their sharpness. Her eyes glimmered under her hood."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Grey was the color of the silent sisters, the handmaidens of the Stranger. Brienne felt a shiver climb her spine. Stoneheart.\n\n\"M'lady,\" said the big man. \"Here she is.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" added the one-eyed man. \"The Kingslayer's whore.\"\n\nShe flinched. \"Why would you call me that?\"\n\n\"If I had a silver stag for every time you said his name, I'd be as rich as your friends the Lannisters.\"\n\n\"That was only... you do not understand...\"\n\n\"Don't we, though?\" The big man laughed. \"I think we might. There's a stink of lion about you, lady.\"\n\n\"That's not so.\"\n\nAnother of the outlaws stepped forward, a younger man in a greasy sheepskin jerkin. In his hand was Oathkeeper. \"This says it is.\" His voice was frosted with the accents of the north. He slid the sword from its scabbard and placed it in front of Lady Stoneheart. In the light from the firepit the red and black ripples in the blade almost seem to move, but the woman in grey had eyes only for the pommel: a golden lion's head, with ruby eyes that shone like two red stars.\n\n\"There is this as well.\" Thoros of Myr drew a parchment from his sleeve, and put it down next to the sword. \"It bears the boy king's seal and says the bearer is about his business.\"\n\nLady Stoneheart set the sword aside to read the letter.\n\n\"The sword was given me fora good purpose,\" said Brienne. \"Ser Jaime swore an oath to Catelyn Stark...\"\n\n\"... before his friends cut her throat for her, that must have been,\" said the big man in the yellow cloak. \"We all know about the Kingslayer and his oaths.\""
},
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"value": "It is no good, Brienne realized. No words of mine will sway them. She plunged ahead despite that. \"He promised Lady Catelyn her daughters, but by the time we reached King's Landing they were gone. Jaime sent me out to seek the Lady Sansa...\"\n\n\"... and if you had found the girl,\" asked the young northman, \"what were you to do with her?\"\n\n\"Protect her. Take her somewhere safe.\"\n\nThe big man laughed. \"Where's that? Cersei's dungeon?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Deny it all you want. That sword says you're a liar. Are we supposed to believe the Lannisters are handing out gold and ruby swords to foes? That the Kingslayer meant for you to hide the girl from his own twin? I suppose the paper with the boy king's seal was just in case you needed to wipe your arse? And then there's the company you keep...\" The big man turned and beckoned, the ranks of outlaws parted, and two more captives were brought forth. \"The boy was the Imp's own squire, m'lady,\" he said to Lady Stoneheart. \"T'other is one of Randyll Bloody Tarly's bloody household knights.\"\n\nHyle Hunt had been beaten so badly that his face was swollen almost beyond recognition. He stumbled as they shoved him, and almost fell. Podrick caught him by the arm. \"Ser,\" the boy said miserably, when he saw Brienne. \"My lady, I mean. Sorry.\"\n\n\"You have nothing to be sorry for.\" Brienne turned to Lady Stoneheart. \"Whatever treachery you think I may have done, my lady, Podrick and Ser Hyle were no part of it.\"\n\n\"They're lions,\" said the one-eyed man. \"That's enough. I say they hang. Tarly's hanged a score o\" ours, past time we strung up some o' his.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Hyle gave Brienne a faint smile. \"My lady,\" he said, \"you should have wed me when I made my offer. Now I fear you're doomed to die a maid, and me a poor man.\"\n\n\"Let them go,\" Brienne pleaded.\n\nThe woman in grey gave no answer. She studied the sword, the parchment, the bronze-and-iron crown. Finally she reached up under her jaw and grasped her neck, as if she meant to throttle herself. Instead she spoke... Her voice was halting, broken, tortured. The sound seemed to come from her throat, part croak, part wheeze, part death rattle. The language of the damned, thought Brienne. \"I don't understand. What did she say?\"\n\n\"She asked the name of this blade of yours,\" said the young northman in the sheepskin jerkin.\n\n\"Oathkeeper,\" Brienne answered.\n\nThe woman in grey hissed through her fingers. Her eyes were two red pits burning in the shadows. She spoke again.\n\n\"No, she says. Call it Oathbreaker, she says. It was made for treachery and murder. She names it False Friend. Like you.\"\n\n\"To whom have I been false?\"\n\n\"To her,\" the northman said. \"Can it be that my lady has forgotten that you once swore her your service?\"\n\nThere was only one woman that the Maid of Tarth had ever sworn to serve. \"That cannot be,\" she said. \"She's dead.\"\n\n\"Death and guest right,\" muttered Long Jeyne Heddle. \"They don't mean so much as they used to, neither one.\"\n\nLady Stoneheart lowered her hood and unwound the grey wool scarf from her face. Her hair was dry and brittle, white as bone. Her brow was mottled green and grey, spotted with the brown blooms of decay. The flesh of her face clung in ragged strips from her eyes down to her jaw. Some of the rips were crusted with dried blood, but others gaped open to reveal the skull beneath."
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her face, Brienne thought. Her face was so strong and handsome, her skin so smooth and soft. \"Lady Catelyn?\" Tears filled her eyes. \"They said... they said that you were dead.\"\n\n\"She is,\" said Thoros of Myr. \"The Freys slashed her throat from ear to ear. When we found her by the river she was three days dead. Harwin begged me to give her the kiss of life, but it had been too long. I would not do it, so Lord Beric put his lips to hers instead, and the flame of life passed from him to her. And... she rose. May the Lord of Light protect us. She rose.\"\n\nAm I dreaming still? Brienne wondered. Is this another nightmare born from Biter's teeth? \"I never betrayed her. Tell her that. I swear it by the Seven. I swear it by my sword.\"\n\nThe thing that had been Catelyn Stark took hold of her throat again, fingers pinching at the ghastly long slash in her neck, and choked out more sounds. \"Words are wind, she says,\" the northman told Brienne. \"She says that you must prove your faith.\"\n\n\"How?\" asked Brienne.\n\n\"With your sword. Oathkeeper, you call it? Then keep your oath to her, milady says.\"\n\n\"What does she want of me?\"\n\n\"She wants her son alive, or the men who killed him dead,\" said the big man. \"She wants to feed the crows, like they did at the Red Wedding. Freys and Boltons, aye. We'll give her those, as many as she likes. All she asks from you is Jaime Lannister.\"\n\nJaime. The name was a knife, twisting in her belly. \"Lady Catelyn, I... you do not understand, Jaime... he saved me from being raped when the Bloody Mummers took us, and later he came back for me, he leapt into the bear pit empty-handed... I swear to you, he is not the man he was. He sent me after Sansa to keep her safe, he could not have had apart in the Red Wedding.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lady Catelyn's fingers dug deep into her throat, and the words came rattling out, choked and broken, a stream as cold as ice. The northman said, \"She says that you must choose. Take the sword and slay the Kingslayer, or be hanged fora betrayer. The sword or the noose, she says. Choose, she says. Choose.\"\n\nBrienne remembered her dream, waiting in her father's hall for the boy she was to marry. In the dream she had bitten off her tongue. My mouth was full of blood. She took a ragged breath and said, \"I will not make that choice.\"\n\nThere was along silence. Then Lady Stoneheart spoke again. This time Brienne understood her words. There were only two. \"Hang them,\" she croaked.\n\n\"As you command, m'lady,\" said the big man.\n\nThey bound Brienne's wrists with rope again and led her from the cavern, up a twisting stony path to the surface. It was morning outside, she was surprised to see. Shafts of pale dawn light were slanting through the trees. So many trees to choose from, she thought. They will not need to take us far.\n\nNor did they. Beneath a crooked willow, the outlaws slipped a noose about her neck, jerked it tight, and tossed the other end of the rope over a limb. Hyle Hunt and Podrick Payne were given elms. Ser Hyle was shouting that he would kill Jaime Lannister, but the Hound cuffed him across the face and shut him up. He had donned the helm again. \"If you got crimes to confess to your gods, this would be the time to say them.\"\n\n\"Podrick has never harmed you. My father will ransom him. Tarth is called the sapphire isle. Send Podrick with my bones to Evenfall, and you'll have sapphires, silver, whatever you want.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I want my wife and daughter back,\" said the Hound. \"Can your father give me that? If not, he can get buggered. The boy will rot beside you. Wolves will gnaw your bones.\"\n\n\"Do you mean to hang her, Lem?\" asked the one-eyed man. \"Or do you figure to talk the bitch to death?\"\n\nThe Hound snatched the end of the rope from the man holding it. \"Let's see if she can dance,\" he said, and gave a yank.\n\nBrienne felt the hemp constricting, digging into her skin, jerking her chin upward. Ser Hyle was cursing them eloquently, but not the boy. Podrick never lifted his eyes, not even when his feet were jerked up off the ground. If this is another dream, it is time for me to awaken. If this is real, it is time for me to die. All she could see was Podrick, the noose around his thin neck, his legs twitching. Her mouth opened. Pod was kicking, choking, dying. Brienne sucked the air in desperately, even as the rope was strangling her. Nothing had ever hurt so much.\n\nShe screamed a word."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "CERSEI\n\nSepta Moelle was a white-haired harridan with a face as sharp as an axe and lips pursed in perpetual disapproval. This one still has her maidenhead, I'll wager, Cersei thought, though by now it's hard and stiff as boiled leather. Six of the High Sparrow's knights escorted her, with the rainbow sword of their reborn order emblazoned on their kite shields.\n\n\"Septa.\" Cersei sat beneath the Iron Throne, clad in green silk and golden lace. \"Tell his High Holiness that we are vexed with him. He presumes too much.\" Emeralds glimmered on her fingers and in her golden hair. The eyes of court and city were upon her, and she meant for them to see Lord Tywin's daughter. By the time this mummer's farce was done they would know they had but one true queen. But first we must dance the dance and never miss a step. \"Lady Margaery is my son's true and gentle wife, his helpmate and consort. His High Holiness had no cause to lay his hands upon her person, or to confine her and her young cousins, who are so dear to all of us. I demand that he release them.\"\n\nSepta Moelle's stern expression did not flicker. \"I shall convey Your Grace's words to His High Holiness, but it grieves me to say that the young queen and her ladies cannot be released until and unless their innocence has been proved.\"\n\n\"Innocence? Why, you need only look upon their sweet young faces to see how innocent they are.\"\n\n\"A sweet face oft hides a sinner's heart.\"\n\nLord Merryweather spoke up from the council table. \"What offense have these young maids been accused of, and by whom?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The septa said, \"Megga Tyrell and Elinor Tyrell stand accused of lewdness, fornication, and conspiracy to commit high treason. Alla Tyrell has been charged with witnessing their shame and helping them conceal it. All this Queen Margaery has also been accused of, as well as adultery and high treason.\"\n\nCersei put a hand to her breast. \"Tell me who is spreading such calumnies about my good-daughter! I do not believe a word of this. My sweet son loves Lady Margaery with all his heart, she could never have been so cruel as to play him false.\"\n\n\"The accuser is a knight of your own household. Ser Osney Kettleblack has confessed his carnal knowledge of the queen to the High Septon himself, before the altar of the Father.\"\n\nAt the council table Harys Swyft gasped, and Grand Maester Pycelle turned away. Abuzz filled the air, as if a thousand wasps were loose in the throne room. Some of the ladies in the galleries began to slip away, followed by a stream of petty lords and knights from the back of the hall. The gold cloaks let them go, but the queen had instructed Ser Osfryd to make note of all who fled. Suddenly the Tyrell rose does not smell so sweet.\n\n\"Ser Osney is young and lusty, I will grant you,\" the queen said, \"but a faithful knight for all that. If he says that he was part of this... no, it cannot be. Margaery is a maiden!\"\n\n\"She is not. I examined her myself, at the behest of His High Holiness. Her maidenhead is not intact. Septa Aglantine and Septa Melicent will say the same, as will Queen Margaery's own septa, Nysterica, who has been confined to a penitent's cell for her part in the queen's shame. Lady Megga and Lady Elinor were examined as well. Both were found to have been broken.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The wasps were growing so loud that the queen could hardly hear herself think."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I do hope the little queen and her cousins enjoyed those rides of theirs.\n\nLord Merryweather thumped his fist on the table. \"Lady Margaery had sworn solemn oaths attesting to her maidenhood, to Her Grace the queen and her late father. Many here bore witness. Lord Tyrell has also testified to her innocence, as has the Lady Olenna, whom we all know to be above reproach. Would you have us believe that all of these noble people lied to us?\"\n\n\"Perhaps they were deceived as well, my lord,\" said Septa Moelle. \"I cannot speak to this. I can only swear to the truth of what I discovered for myself when I examined the queen.\"\n\nThe picture of this sour old crone poking her wrinkled fingers up Margaery's little pink cunt was so droll that Cersei almost laughed. \"We insist that His High Holiness allow our own maesters to examine my good-daughter, to determine if there is any shred of truth to these slanders. Grand Maester Pycelle, you shall accompany Septa Moelle back to Beloved Baelor's Sept, and return to us with the truth about our Margaery's maidenhead.\"\n\nPycelle had gone the color of curdled white. At council meetings the wretched old fool cannot say enough, but now that I need a few words from him he has lost the power of speech, the queen thought, before the old man finally came outwith, \"There is no need for me to examine her... her privy parts.\" His voice was a quaver. \"I grieve to say... Queen Margaery is no maiden. She has required me to make her moon tea, not once, but many times.\"\n\nThe uproar that followed that was all that Cersei Lannister could ever have hoped for."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even the royal herald beating on the floor with his staff did little to quell the noise. The queen let it wash over her fora few heartbeats, savoring the sounds of the little queen's disgrace. When it had gone on long enough, she rose stone-faced and commanded that the gold cloaks clear the hall. Margaery Tyrell is done, she thought, exulting. Her white knights fell in around her as she made her exit through the king's door behind the Iron Throne; Boros Blount, Meryn Trant, and Osmund Kettleblack, the last of the Kingsguard still remaining in the city.\n\nMoon Boy was standing beside the door, holding his rattle in his hand and gaping at the confusion with his big round eyes. A fool he maybe, but he wears his folly honestly. Maggy the Frog should have been in motley too, for all she knew about the morrow. Cersei prayed the old fraud was screaming down in hell. The younger queen whose coming she'd foretold was finished, and if that prophecy could fail, so could the rest. No golden shrouds, no valonqar, I am free of your croaking malice at last.\n\nThe remnants of her small council followed her out. Harys Swyft appeared dazed. He stumbled at the door and might have fallen if Aurane Waters had not caught him by the arm. Even Orton Merryweather seemed anxious. \"The smallfolk are fond of the little queen,\" he said. \"They will not take well to this. I fear what might happen next, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Lord Merryweather is right,\" said Lord Waters. \"If it please Your Grace, I will launch the rest of our new dromonds. The sight of them upon the Blackwater with King Tommen's banner flying from their masts will remind the city who rules here, and keep them safe should the mobs decide to run riot again.\""
}
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[
{
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"value": "As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 46"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even the royal herald beating on the floor with his staff did little to quell the noise. The queen let it wash over her fora few heartbeats, savoring the sounds of the little queen's disgrace. When it had gone on long enough, she rose stone-faced and commanded that the gold cloaks clear the hall. Margaery Tyrell is done, she thought, exulting. Her white knights fell in around her as she made her exit through the king's door behind the Iron Throne; Boros Blount, Meryn Trant, and Osmund Kettleblack, the last of the Kingsguard still remaining in the city.\n\nMoon Boy was standing beside the door, holding his rattle in his hand and gaping at the confusion with his big round eyes. A fool he maybe, but he wears his folly honestly. Maggy the Frog should have been in motley too, for all she knew about the morrow. Cersei prayed the old fraud was screaming down in hell. The younger queen whose coming she'd foretold was finished, and if that prophecy could fail, so could the rest. No golden shrouds, no valonqar, I am free of your croaking malice at last.\n\nThe remnants of her small council followed her out. Harys Swyft appeared dazed. He stumbled at the door and might have fallen if Aurane Waters had not caught him by the arm. Even Orton Merryweather seemed anxious. \"The smallfolk are fond of the little queen,\" he said. \"They will not take well to this. I fear what might happen next, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Lord Merryweather is right,\" said Lord Waters. \"If it please Your Grace, I will launch the rest of our new dromonds. The sight of them upon the Blackwater with King Tommen's banner flying from their masts will remind the city who rules here, and keep them safe should the mobs decide to run riot again.\""
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{
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"value": "He left the rest unspoken; once on the Blackwater, his dromonds could stop Mace Tyrell from bringing his army back across the river, just as Tyrion had once stopped Stannis. Highgarden had no sea power of its own this side of Westeros. They relied upon the Redwyne fleet, presently on its way back to the Arbor.\n\n\"A prudent measure,\" the queen announced. \"Until this storm has passed, I want your ships crewed and on the water.\"\n\nSer Harys Swyft was so pale and damp he looked about to faint. \"When word of this reaches Lord Tyrell, his fury will know no bounds. There will be blood in the streets...\"\n\nThe knight of the yellow chicken, Cersei mused. You ought to take a worm for your sigil, ser. A chicken is too bold for you. If Mace Tyrell will not even assault Storm's End, how do you imagine that he would ever dare attack the gods? When he was done blathering she said, \"It must not come to blood, and I mean to see that it does not. I will go to Baelor's Sept myself to speak to Queen Margaery and the High Septon. Tommen loves them both, I know, and would want me to make peace between them.\"\n\n\"Peace?\" Ser Harys dabbed at his brow with a velvet sleeve. \"If peace is possible... that is very brave of you.\"\n\n\"Some sort of trial maybe necessary,\" said the queen, \"to disprove these base calumnies and lies and show the world that our sweet Margaery is the innocent we all know her to be.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Merryweather, \"but this High Septon may want to try the queen himself, as the Faith once tried men of old.\""
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"value": "> Continue"
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{
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"value": "I hope so, Cersei thought. Such a court was not like to look with favor on treasonous queens who spread their legs for singers and profaned the Maiden's holy rites to hide their shame. \"The important thing is to find the truth, I am sure we all agree,\" she said. \"And now, my lords, you must excuse me. I must go seethe king. He should not be alone at such a time.\"\n\nTommen was fishing for cats when his mother returned to him. Dorcas had made him a mouse with scraps of fur and tied it on along string at the end of an old fishing pole. The kittens loved to chase it, and the boy liked nothing better than jerking it about the floor as they pounced after it. He seemed surprised when Cersei gathered him up in her arms and kissed him on his brow. \"What's that for, Mother? Why are you crying?\"\n\nBecause you're safe, she wanted to tell him. Because no harm will ever come to you. \"You are mistaken. A lion never cries.\" There would be time later to tell him about Margaery and her cousins. \"There are some warrants that I need you to sign.\"\n\nFor the king's sake, the queen had left the names off the arrest warrants. Tommen signed them blank, and pressed his seal into the warm wax happily, as he always did. Afterward she sent him off with Jocelyn Swyft.\n\nSer Osfryd Kettleblack arrived as the ink was drying. Cersei had written in the names herself: Ser Tallad the Tall, Jalabhar Xho, Hamish the Harper, Hugh Clifton, Mark Mullendore, Bayard Norcross, Lambert Turnberry, Horas Redwyne, Hobber Redwyne, and a certain churl named Wat, who called himself the Blue Bard."
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"value": "\"So many.\" Ser Osfryd shuffled through the warrants, as wary of the words as if they had been roaches crawling across the parchment. None of the Kettleblacks could read.\n\n\"Ten. You have six thousand gold cloaks. Sufficient for ten, I would think. Some of the clever ones may have fled, if the rumors reached their ears in time. If so, it makes no matter, their absence only makes them look that much more guilty. Ser Tallad is a bit of an oaf and may try to resist you. See that he does not die before confessing, and do no harm to any of the others. A few may well be innocent.\" It was important that the Redwyne twins be found to have been falsely accused. That would demonstrate the fairness of the judgments against the others.\n\n\"We'll have them all before the sun comes up, Your Grace.\" Ser Osfryd hesitated. \"There's a crowd gathering outside the door of Baelor's Sept.\"\n\n\"What sort of crowd?\" Anything unexpected made her wary. She remembered what Lord Waters had said about the riots. I had not considered how the smallfolk might react to this. Margaery has been their little pet. \"How many?\"\n\n\"A hundred or so. They're shouting for the High Septon to release the little queen. We can send them running, if you like.\"\n\n\"No. Let them shout until they're hoarse, it will not sway the Sparrow. He only listens to the gods.\" There was a certain irony in His High Holiness having an angry mob encamped upon his doorstep, since just such a mob had raised him to the crystal crown. Which he promptly sold. \"The Faith has its own knights now. Let them defend the sept. Oh, and close the city gates as well. No one is to enter or leave King's Landing without my leave, until all this is done and settled.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As you command, Your Grace.\" Ser Osfryd bowed and went off to find someone to read the warrants to him.\n\nBy the time the sun went down that day, all of the accused traitors were in custody. Hamish the Harper had collapsed when they came for him, and Ser Tallad the Tall had wounded three gold cloaks before the others overwhelmed him. Cersei ordered that the Redwyne twins be given comfortable chambers in a tower. The rest went down to the dungeons.\n\n\"Hamish is having difficulty breathing,\" Qyburn informed her when he came to call that night. \"He is calling fora maester.\"\n\n\"Tell him he can have one as soon as he confesses.\" She thought a moment. \"He is too old to have been amongst the lovers, but no doubt he was made to play and sing for Margaery whilst she was entertaining other men. We will need details.\"\n\n\"I shall help him to remember them, Your Grace.\"\n\nThe next day, Lady Merryweather helped Cersei dress for their visit to the little queen. \"Nothing too rich or colorful,\" she said. \"Something suitably devout and drab for the High Septon. He's like to make me pray with him.\"\n\nIn the end, she chose a soft woolen dress that covered her from throat to ankle, with only a few small vines embroidered on the bodice and the sleeves in golden thread to soften the severity of its lines. Even better, brown would help conceal the dirt if she was made to kneel. \"Whilst I am comforting my good-daughter you shall speak with the three cousins,\" she told Taena. \"Win Alla if you can, but be careful what you say. The gods may not be the only ones listening.\"\n\nJaime always said that the hardest part of any battle is just before, waiting for the carnage to begin. When she stepped outside, Cersei saw that the sky was grey and bleak. She could not take the risk of being caught in a downpour and arriving at Baelor's Sept soaked and bedraggled. That meant the litter. For her escort, she took ten Lannister house guards and Boros Blount. \"Margaery's mob may not have the wit to tell one Kettleblack from another,\" she told Ser Osmund, \"and I cannot have you cutting through the commons. Best we keep you out of sight fora time.\""
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As they made their way across King's Landing, Taena had a sudden doubt. \"This trial,\" she said, in a quiet voice, \"what if Margaery demands that her guilt or innocence be determined by wager of battle?\"\n\nA smile brushed Cersei's lips. \"As queen, her honor must be defended by a knight of the Kingsguard. Why, every child in Westeros knows how Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championed his sister Queen Naerys against Ser Morghil's accusations. With Ser Loras so gravely wounded, though, I fear Prince Aemon's part must fall to one of his Sworn Brothers.\" She shrugged. \"Who, though? Ser Arys and Ser Balon are faraway in Dorne, Jaime is off at Riverrun, and Ser Osmund is the brother of the man accusing her, which leaves only... oh, dear...\"\n\n\"Boros Blount and Meryn Trant.\" Lady Taena laughed.\n\n\"Yes, and Ser Meryn has been feeling ill of late. Remind me to tell him that when we return to the castle.\"\n\n\"I shall, my sweet.\" Taena took her hand and kissed it. \"I pray that I never offend you. You are terrible when roused.\"\n\n\"Any mother would do the same to protect her children,\" said Cersei. \"When do you mean to bring that boy of yours to court? Russell, was that his name? He could train with Tommen.\"\n\n\"That would thrill the boy, I know... but things are so uncertain just now, I thought it best to wait until the danger passed.\"\n\n\"Soon enough,\" promised Cersei. \"Send word to Longtable and have Russell pack his best doublet and his wooden sword. Anew young friend will be just the thing to help Tommen forget his loss, after Margaery's little head has rolled.\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They descended from the litter under Blessed Baelor's statue. The queen was pleased to see that the bones and filth had been cleaned away. Ser Osfryd had told it true; the crowd was neither as numerous nor as unruly as the sparrows had been. They stood about in small clumps, gazing sullenly at the doors of the Great Sept, where a line of novice septons had been drawn up with quarterstaffs in their hands. No steel, Cersei noted. That was either very wise or very stupid, she was not sure which.\n\nNo one made any attempt to hinder her. Smallfolk and novices alike parted as they passed. Once inside the doors, they were met by three knights in the Hall of Lamps, each clad in the rainbow-striped robes of the Warrior's Sons. \"I am hereto see my good-daughter,\" Cersei told them.\n\n\"His High Holiness has been expecting you. I am Ser Theodan the True, formerly Ser Theodan Wells. If Your Grace will come with me.\"\n\nThe High Sparrow was on his knees, as ever. This time he was praying before the Father's altar. Nor did he break off his prayer when the queen approached, but made her wait impatiently until he had finished. Only then did he rise and bow to her. \"Your Grace. This is a sad day.\"\n\n\"Very sad. Do we have your leave to speak with Margaery and her cousins?\" She chose a meek and humble manner; with this man, that was like to work the best.\n\n\"If that is your wish. Come tome afterward, my child. We must pray together, you and I.\"\n\nThe little queen had been confined atop one of the Great Sept's slender towers. Her cell was eight feet long and six feet wide, with no furnishings but a straw-stuffed pallet and a bench for prayer, a ewer of water, a copy of The Seven-Pointed Star, and a candle to read it by. The only window was hardly wider than an arrow slit."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cersei found Margaery barefoot and shivering, clad in the roughspun shift of a novice sister. Her locks were all a tangle, and her feet were filthy. \"They took my clothes from me,\" the little queen told her once they were alone. \"I wore a gown of ivory lace, with freshwater pearls on the bodice, but the septas laid their hands on me and stripped me to the skin. My cousins too. Megga sent one septa crashing into the candles and set her robe afire. I fear for Alla, though. She went as white as milk, too frightened even to cry.\"\n\n\"Poor child.\" There were no chairs, so Cersei sat beside the little queen on her pallet. \"Lady Taena has gone to speak with her, to let her know that she is not forgotten.\"\n\n\"He will not even let me see them,\" fumed Margaery. \"He keeps each of us apart from the others. Until you came, I was allowed no visitors but septas. One comes every hour to ask if I wish to confess my fornications. They will not even let me sleep. They wake me to demand confessions. Last night I confessed to Septa Unella that I wished to scratch her eyes out.\"\n\nA shame you did not do it, Cersei thought. Blinding some poor old septa would certainly persuade the High Sparrow of your guilt. \"They are questioning your cousins the same way.\"\n\n\"Damn them, then,\" said Margaery. \"Damn them all to seven hells. Alla is gentle and shy, how can they do this to her? And Megga... she laughs as loud as a dockside whore, I know, but inside she's still just a little girl. I love them all, and they love me. If this sparrow thinks to make them lie about me...\""
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They stand accused as well, I fear. All three.\"\n\n\"My cousins?\" Margaery paled. \"Alla and Megga are hardly more than children. Your Grace, this... this is obscene. Will you take us out of here?\"\n\n\"Would that I could.\" Her voice was full of sorrow. \"His High Holiness has his new knights guarding you. To free you I would need to send the gold cloaks and profane this holy place with killing.\" Cersei took Margaery's hand in hers. \"I have not been idle, though. I have gathered up all those that Ser Osney named as your lovers. They will tell His High Holiness of your innocence, I am certain, and swear to it at your trial.\"\n\n\"Trial?\" There was real fear in the girl's voice now. \"Must there be atrial?\"\n\n\"How else will you prove your innocence?\" Cersei gave Margaery's hand a reassuring squeeze. \"It is your right to decide the manner of the trial, to be sure. You are the queen. The knights of the Kingsguard are sworn to defend you.\"\n\nMargaery understood at once. \"Atrial by battle? Loras is hurt, though, elsewise he...\"\n\n\"He has six brothers.\"\n\nMargaery stared at her, then pulled her hand away. \"Is that a jape? Boros is a craven, Meryn is old and slow, your brother is maimed, the other two are off in Dorne, and Osmund is a bloody Kettleblack. Loras has two brothers, not six. If there's to be atrial by battle, I want Garlan as my champion.\"\n\n\"Ser Garlan is not a member of the Kingsguard,\" the queen said. \"When the queen's honor is at issue, law and custom require that her champion be one of the king's sworn seven. The High Septon will insist, I fear.\" I will make certain of it."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Margaery did not answer at once, but her brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. \"Blount or Trant,\" she said at last. \"It would have to be one of them. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Osney Kettleblack would cut either one to pieces.\"\n\nSeven hells. Cersei donned a look of hurt. \"You wrong me, daughter. All I want-\"\n\n\"-is your son, all for yourself. He will never have a wife that you don't hate. And I am not your daughter, thank the gods. Leave me.\"\n\n\"You are being foolish. I am only hereto help you.\"\n\n\"To help me to my grave. I asked for you to leave. Will you make me call my gaolers and have you dragged away, you vile, scheming, evil bitch?\"\n\nCersei gathered up her skirts and dignity. \"This must be very frightening for you. I shall forgive those words.\" Here, as at court, one never knew who might be listening. \"I would be afraid as well, in your place. Grand Maester Pycelle has admitted providing you with moon tea, and your Blue Bard... if I were you, my lady, I would pray to the Crone for wisdom and to the Mother for her mercy. I fear you may soon be in dire need of both.\"\n\nFour shriveled septas escorted the queen down the tower steps. Each of the crones seemed more feeble than the last. When they reached the ground they continued down, into the heart of Visenya's Hill. The steps ended well below the earth, where a line of flickering torches lit along hallway.\n\nShe found the High Septon waiting for her in a small seven-sided audience chamber. The room was sparse and plain, with bare stonewalls, a rough-hewn table, three chairs, and a prayer bench. The faces of the Seven had been carved into the walls. Cersei thought the carvings crude and ugly, but there was a certain power to them, especially about the eyes, orbs of onyx, malachite, and yellow moonstone that somehow made the faces come alive."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You spoke with the queen,\" the High Septon said.\n\nShe resisted the urge to say, I am the queen. \"I did.\"\n\n\"All men sin, even kings and queens. I have sinned myself, and been forgiven. Without confession, though, there can be no forgiveness. The queen will not confess.\"\n\n\"Perhaps she is innocent.\"\n\n\"She is not. Holy septas have examined her, and testify that her maidenhead is broken. She has drunk of moon tea, to murder the fruit of her fornications in her womb. An anointed knight has sworn upon his sword to having carnal knowledge of her and two of her three cousins. Others have lain with her as well, he says, and names many names of men both great and humble.\"\n\n\"My gold cloaks have taken all of them to the dungeons,\" Cersei assured him. \"Only one has yet been questioned, a singer called the Blue Bard. What he had to say was disturbing. Even so, I pray that when my good-daughter is brought to trial, her innocence may yet be proved.\" She hesitated. \"Tommen loves his little queen so much, Your Holiness, I fear it might be hard for him or his lords to judge her justly. Perhaps the Faith should conduct the trial?\"\n\nThe High Sparrow steepled his thin hands. \"I have had the selfsame thought, Your Grace. Just as Maegor the Cruel once took the swords from the Faith, so Jaehaerys the Conciliator deprived us of the scales of judgment. Yet who is truly fit to judge a queen, save the Seven Above and the godsworn below? A sacred court of seven judges shall sit upon this case. Three shall be of your female sex. A maiden, a mother, and a crone. Who could be more suited to judge the wickedness of women?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"That would be for the best."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To be sure, Margaery does have the right to demand that her guilt or innocence be proven by wager of battle. If so, her champion must be one of Tommen's Seven.\"\n\n\"The knights of the Kingsguard have served as the rightful champions of king and queen since the days of Aegon the Conqueror. Crown and Faith speak as one on this.\"\n\nCersei covered her face with her hands, as if in grief. When she raised her head again, a tear glistened in one eye. \"These are sad days indeed,\" she said, \"but I am pleased to find us so much in agreement. If Tommen were here I know he would thank you. Together you and I must find the truth.\"\n\n\"We shall.\"\n\n\"I must return to the castle. With your leave, I will take Ser Osney Kettleblack back with me. The small council will want to question him, and hear his accusations for themselves.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the High Septon.\n\nIt was only a word, one little word, but to Cersei it felt like a splash of icy water in the face. She blinked, and her certainty flickered, just a little. \"Ser Osney will beheld securely, I promise you.\"\n\n\"He is held securely here. Come. I will show you.\"\n\nCersei could feel the eyes of the Seven staring at her, eyes of jade and malachite and onyx, and a sudden shiver of fear went through her, cold as ice. I am the queen, she told herself. Lord Tywin's daughter. Reluctantly, she followed.\n\nSer Osney was not far. The chamber was dark, and closed by a heavy iron door. The High Septon produced the key to open it, and took a torch down from the wall to light the room within. \"After you, Your Grace.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Within, Osney Kettleblack hung naked from the ceiling, swinging from a pair of heavy iron chains. He had been whipped. His back and shoulders been laid almost bare, and cuts and welts crisscrossed his legs and arse as well.\n\nThe queen could hardly stand to look at him. She turned back to the High Septon. \"What have you done?\"\n\n\"We have sought after the truth, most earnestly.\"\n\n\"He told you the truth. He came to you of his own freewill and confessed his sins.\"\n\n\"Aye. He did that. I have heard many men confess, Your Grace, but seldom have I heard a man so pleased to be so guilty.\"\n\n\"You whipped him!\"\n\n\"There can be no penance without pain. No man should spare himself the scourge, as I told Ser Osney. I seldom feel so close to god as when I am being whipped for mine own wickedness, though my darkest sins are nowise near as black as his.\"\n\n\"B-but,\" she sputtered, \"you preach the Mother's mercy...\"\n\n\"Ser Osney shall taste of that sweet milk in the afterlife. In The Seven-Pointed Star it is written that all sins maybe forgiven, but crimes must still be punished. Osney Kettleblack is guilty of treason and murder, and the wages of treason are death.\"\n\nHe is just a priest, he cannot do this. \"It is not for the Faith to condemn a man to death, whatever his offense.\"\n\n\"Whatever his offense.\" The High Septon repeated the words slowly, weighing them. \"Strange to say, Your Grace, the more diligently we applied the scourge, the more Ser Osney's offenses seemed to change. He would now have us believe that he never touched Margaery Tyrell. Is that not so, Ser Osney?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Osney Kettleblack opened his eyes. When he saw the queen standing there before him he ran his tongue across his swollen lips, and said, \"The Wall. You promised me the Wall.\"\n\n\"He is mad,\" said Cersei. \"You have driven him mad.\"\n\n\"Ser Osney,\" said the High Septon, in a firm, clear voice, \"did you have carnal knowledge of the queen?\"\n\n\"Aye.\" The chains rattled softly as Osney twisted in his shackles. \"That one there. She's the queen I fucked, the one sent me to kill the old High Septon. He never had no guards. I just come in when he was sleeping and pushed a pillow down across his face.\"\n\nCersei whirled, and ran.\n\nThe High Septon tried to seize her, but he was some old sparrow and she was a lioness of the Rock. She pushed him aside and burst through the door, slamming it behind her with a clang. The Kettleblacks, I need the Kettleblacks, I will send in Osfryd with the gold cloaks and Osmund with the Kingsguard, Osney will deny it all once they cut him free, and I'll rid myself of this High Septon just as I did the other. The four old septas blocked her way and clutched at her with wrinkled hands. She knocked one to the floor and clawed another across the face, and gained the steps. Halfway up, she remembered Taena Merryweather. It made her stumble, panting. Seven save me, she prayed. Taena knows it all. If they take her too, and whip her...\n\nShe ran as far as the sept, but no farther. There were women waiting for her there, more septas and silent sisters too, younger than the four old crones below. \"I am the queen,\" she shouted, backing away from them. \"I will have your heads for this, I will have all your heads. Let me pass.\" Instead, they laid hands upon her. Cersei ran to the altar of the Mother, but they caught her there, a score of them, and dragged her kicking up the tower steps. Inside the cell three silent sisters held her down as a septa named Scolera stripped her bare. She even took her smallclothes. Another septa tossed a roughspun shift at her. \"You cannot do this,\" the queen kept screaming at them. \"I am a Lannister, unhand me, my brother will kill you, Jaime will slice you open from throat to cunt, unhand me! I am the queen!\""
},
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The queen should pray,\" said Septa Scolera, before they left her naked in the cold bleak cell.\n\nShe was not meek Margaery Tyrell, to don her little shift and submit to such captivity. I will teach them what it means to put a lion in a cage, Cersei thought. She tore the shift into a hundred pieces, found a ewer of water and smashed it against the wall, then did the same with the chamber pot. When no one came, she began to pound on the door with her fists. Her escort was below, on the plaza: ten Lannister guardsmen and Ser Boros Blount. Once they hear they'll come free me, and we'll drag the bloody High Sparrow back to the Red Keep in chains.\n\nShe screamed and kicked and howled until her throat was raw, at the door and at the window. No one shouted back, nor came to rescue her. The cell began to darken. It was growing cold as well. Cersei began to shiver. How can they leave me like this, without so much as afire? I am their queen. She began to regret tearing apart the shift they'd given her. There was a blanket on the pallet in the corner, a threadbare thing of thin brown wool. It was rough and scratchy, but it was all she had. Cersei huddled underneath to keep from shivering, and before long she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.\n\nThe next she knew, a heavy hand was shaking her awake. It was black as pitch inside the cell, and a huge ugly woman was kneeling over her, a candle in her hand. \"Who are you?\" the queen demanded. \"Are you come to set me free?\"\n\n\"I am Septa Unella. I am come to hear you tell of all your murders and fornications.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cersei knocked her hand aside. \"I will have your head. Do not presume to touch me. Getaway.\"\n\nThe woman rose. \"Your Grace. I will be back in an hour. Mayhaps by then you will be ready to confess.\"\n\nAn hour and an hour and an hour. So passed the longest night that Cersei Lannister had ever known, save for the night of Joffrey's wedding. Her throat was so raw from shouting that she could hardly swallow. The cell turned freezing cold. She had smashed the chamber pot, so she had to squat in a corner to make her water and watch it trickle across the floor. Every time she closed her eyes, Unella was looming over her again, shaking her and asking her if she wanted to confess her sins.\n\nDay brought no relief. Septa Moelle brought her a bowl of some waterly grey gruel as the sun was coming up. Cersei flung it at her head. When they brought afresh ewer of water, though, she was so thirsty that she had no choice but to drink. When they brought another shift, grey and thin and smelling of mildew, she put it on over her nakedness. And that evening when Moelle appeared again she ate the bread and fish and demanded wine to wash it down. No wine appeared, only Septa Unella, making her hourly visit to ask if the queen was ready to confess.\n\nWhat can be happening? Cersei wondered, as the thin slice of sky outside her window began to darken once again. Why has no one come to pry me out of here? She could not believe that the Kettleblacks would abandon their brother. What washer council doing? Cravens and traitors. When I get out of here I will have the lot of them beheaded and find better men to take their place."
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"value": "Thrice that day she heard the sound of distant shouting drifting up from the plaza, but it was Margaery's name that the mob was calling, not hers.\n\nIt was near dawn on the second day and Cersei was licking the last of the porridge from the bottom of the bowl when her cell door swung open unexpectedly to admit Lord Qyburn. It was all she could do not to throw herself at him. \"Qyburn,\" she whispered, \"oh, gods, I am so glad to see your face. Take me home.\"\n\n\"That will not be allowed. You are to be tried before a holy court of seven, for murder, treason, and fornication.\"\n\nCersei was so exhausted that the words seemed nonsensical to her at first. \"Tommen. Tell me of my son. Is he still king?\"\n\n\"He is, Your Grace. He is safe and well, secure within the walls of Maegor's Holdfast, protected by the Kingsguard. He is lonely, though. Fretful. He asks for you, and for his little queen. As yet, no one has told him of your... your...\"\n\n\"... difficulties?\" she suggested. \"What of Margaery?\"\n\n\"She is to be tried as well, by the same court that conducts your trial. I had the Blue Bard delivered to the High Septon, as Your Grace commanded. He is here now, somewhere down below us. My whisperers tell me that they are whipping him, but so far he is still singing the same sweet song we taught him.\"\n\nThe same sweet song. Her wits were dull for want of sleep. Wat, his real name is Wat. If the gods were good, Wat might die beneath the lash, leaving Margaery with noway to disprove his testimony. \"Where are my knights? Ser Osfryd... the High Septon means to kill his brother Osney, his gold cloaks must...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Osfryd Kettleblack no longer commands the City Watch. The king has removed him from office and raised the captain of the Dragon Gate in his place, a certain Humfrey Waters.\"\n\nCersei was so tired, none of this made any sense. \"Why would Tommen do that?\"\n\n\"The boy is not to blame. When his council puts a decree in front of him, he signs his name and stamps it with his seal.\"\n\n\"My council... who? Who would do that? Not you?\"\n\n\"Alas, I have been dismissed from the council, although for the nonce they allow me to continue my work with the eunuch's whisperers. The realm is being ruled by Ser Harys Swyft and Grand Maester Pycelle. They have dispatched a raven to Casterly Rock, inviting your uncle to return to court and assume the regency. If he means to accept, he had best make haste. Mace Tyrell has abandoned his siege of Storm's End and is marching back to the city with his army, and Randyll Tarly is reported on his way down from Maidenpool as well.\"\n\n\"Has Lord Merryweather agreed to this?\"\n\n\"Merryweather has resigned his seat on the council and fled back to Longtable with his wife, who was the first to bring us news of the... accusations... against Your Grace.\"\n\n\"They let Taena go.\" That was the best thing she had heard since the High Sparrow had said no. Taena could have doomed her. \"What of Lord Waters? His ships... if he brings his crews ashore, he should have enough men to...\"\n\n\"As soon as word of Your Grace's present troubles reached the river, Lord Waters raised sail, unshipped his oars, and took his fleet to sea. Ser Harys fears he means to join Lord Stannis. Pycelle believes that he is sailing to the Stepstones, to set himself up as a pirate.\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"All my lovely dromonds.\" Cersei almost laughed. \"My lord father used to say that bastards are treacherous by nature. Would that I had listened.\" She shivered. \"I am lost, Qyburn.\"\n\n\"No.\" He took her hand. \"Hope remains. Your Grace has the right to prove your innocence by battle. My queen, your champion stands ready. There is no man in all the Seven Kingdoms who can hope to stand against him. If you will only give the command...\"\n\nThis time she did laugh. It was funny, terribly funny, hideously funny. \"The gods make japes of all our hopes and plans. I have a champion no man can defeat, but I am forbidden to make use of him. I am the queen, Qyburn. My honor can only be defended by a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard.\"\n\n\"I see.\" The smile died on Qyburn's face. \"Your Grace, I am at a loss. I do not know how to counsel you...\"\n\nEven in her exhausted, frightened state, the queen knew she dare not trust her fate to a court of sparrows. Nor could she count on Ser Kevan to intervene, after the words that had passed between them at their last meeting. It will have to be atrial by battle. There is no other way. \"Qyburn, for the love you bear me, I beg you, send a message for me. A raven if you can. A rider, if not. You must send to Riverrun, to my brother. Tell him what has happened, and write... write...\"\n\n\"Yes, Your Grace?\"\n\nShe licked her lips, shivering. \"Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As you command. \"I love you\" thrice?\"\n\n\"Thrice.\" She had to reach him. \"He will come. I know he will. He must. Jaime is my only hope.\"\n\n\"My queen,\" said Qyburn, \"have you... forgotten? Ser Jaime has no sword hand. If he should champion you and lose...\"\n\nWe will leave this world together, as we once came into it. \"He will not lose. Not Jaime. Not with my life at stake.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nThe new Lord of Riverrun was so angry that he was shaking. \"We have been deceived,\" he said. \"This man has played us false!\" Pink spittle flew from his lips as he jabbed a finger at Edmure Tully. \"I will have his head off! I rule in Riverrun, by the king's own decree, I-\"\n\n\"Emmon,\" said his wife, \"the Lord Commander knows about the king's decree. Ser Edmure knows about the king's decree. The stableboys know about the king's decree.\"\n\n\"I am the lord, and I will have his head!\"\n\n\"For what crime?\" Thin as he was, Edmure still looked more lordly than Emmon Frey. He wore a quilted doublet of red wool with a leaping trout embroidered on its chest. His boots were black, his breeches blue. His auburn hair had been washed and barbered, his red beard neatly trimmed. \"I did all that was asked of me.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" Jaime Lannister had not slept since Riverrun had opened its gates, and his head was pounding. \"I do not recall asking you to let Ser Brynden escape.\"\n\n\"You required me to surrender my castle, not my uncle. Am Ito blame if your men let him slip through their siege lines?\"\n\nJaime was not amused. \"Where is he?\" he said, letting his irritation show. His men had searched Riverrun thrice over, and Brynden Tully was nowhere to be found.\n\n\"He never told me where he meant to go.\"\n\n\"And you never asked. How did he get out?\"\n\n\"Fish swim. Even black ones.\" Edmure smiled.\n\nJaime was sorely tempted to crack him across the mouth with his golden hand. A few missing teeth would put an end to his smiles. Fora man who was going to spend the rest of his life a prisoner, Edmure was entirely too pleased with himself. \"We have oubliettes beneath the Casterly Rock that fit a man as tight as a suit of armor. You can't turn in them, or sit, or reach down to your feet when the rats start gnawing at your toes. Would you care to reconsider that answer?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lord Edmure's smile went away."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You gave me your word that I would be treated honorably, as befits my rank.\"\n\n\"So you shall,\" said Jaime. \"Nobler knights than you have died whimpering in those oubliettes, and many a high lord too. Even a king or two, if I recall my history. Your wife can have the one beside you, if you like. I would not want to part you.\"\n\n\"He did swim,\" said Edmure, sullenly. He had the same blue eyes as his sister Catelyn, and Jaime saw the same loathing there that he'd once seen in hers. \"We raised the portcullis on the Water Gate. Not all the way, just three feet or so. Enough to leave a gap under the water, though the gate still appeared to be closed. My uncle is a strong swimmer. After dark, he pulled himself beneath the spikes.\"\n\nAnd he slipped under our boom the same way, no doubt. A moonless night, bored guards, a black fish in a black river floating quietly downstream. If Ruttiger or Yew or any of their men heard a splash, they would put it down to a turtle or a trout. Edmure had waited most of the day before hauling down the direwolf of Stark in token of surrender. In the confusion of the castle changing hands, it had been the next morning before Jaime had been informed that the Blackfish was not amongst the prisoners.\n\nHe went to the window and gazed out over the river. It was a bright autumn day, and the sun was shining on the waters. By now the Blackfish could be ten leagues downstream.\n\n\"You have to find him,\" insisted Emmon Frey.\n\n\"He'll be found.\" Jaime spoke with a certainty he did not feel. \"I have hounds and hunters sniffing after him even now.\" Ser Addam Marbrand was leading the search on the south side of the river, Ser Dermot of the Rainwood on the north. He had considered enlisting the riverlords as well, but Vance and Piper and their ilk were more like to help the Blackfish escape than clap him into fetters. All in all, he was not hopeful. \"He may elude us fora time,\" he said, \"but eventually he must surface.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What if he should try and take my castle back?\"\n\n\"You have a garrison of two hundred.\" Too large a garrison, in truth, but Lord Emmon had an anxious disposition. At least he would have no trouble feeding them; the Blackfish had left Riverrun amply provisioned, just as he had claimed. \"After the trouble Ser Brynden took to leave us, I doubt that he'll come skulking back.\" Unless it is at the head of a band of outlaws. He did not doubt that the Blackfish meant to continue the fight.\n\n\"This is your seat,\" Lady Genna told her husband. \"It is for you to hold it. If you cannot do that, put it to the torch and run back to the Rock.\"\n\nLord Emmon rubbed his mouth. His hand came away red and slimy from the sourleaf. \"To be sure. Riverrun is mine, and no man shall ever take it from me.\" He gave Edmure Tully one last suspicious look, as Lady Genna drew him from the solar.\n\n\"Is there anymore that you would care to tell me?\" Jaime asked Edmure when the two of them were alone.\n\n\"This was my father's solar,\" said Tully. \"He ruled the riverlands from here, wisely and well. He liked to sit beside that window. The light was good there, and whenever he looked up from his work he could seethe river. When his eyes were tired he would have Cat read to him. Littlefinger and I built a castle out of wooden blocks once, there beside the door. You will never know how sick it makes me to see you in this room, Kingslayer. You will never know how much I despise you.\"\n\nHe was wrong about that. \"I have been despised by better men than you, Edmure.\" Jaime called fora guard. \"Take his lordship back to his tower and see that he's fed.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Lord of Riverrun went silently."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "On the morrow, he would start west. Ser Forley Prester would command his escort; a hundred men, including twenty knights. Best double that. Lord Beric may try to free Edmure before they reach the Golden Tooth. Jaime did not want to have to capture Tully fora third time.\n\nHe returned to Hoster Tully's chair, pulled over the map of the Trident, and flattened it beneath his golden hand. Where would I go, if I were the Blackfish?\n\n\"Lord Commander?\" A guardsman stood in the open door. \"Lady Westerling and her daughter are without, as you commanded.\"\n\nJaime shoved the map aside. \"Show them in.\" At least the girl did not vanish too. Jeyne Westerling had been Robb Stark's queen, the girl who cost him everything. With a wolf in her belly, she could have proved more dangerous than the Blackfish.\n\nShe did not look dangerous. Jeyne was a willowy girl, no more than fifteen or sixteen, more awkward than graceful. She had narrow hips, breasts the size of apples, a mop of chestnut curls, and the soft brown eyes of a doe. Pretty enough fora child, Jaime decided, but not a girl to lose a kingdom for. Her face was puffy, and there was a scab on her forehead, half-hidden by a lock of brown hair. \"What happened there?\" he asked her.\n\nThe girl turned her head away. \"It is nothing,\" insisted her mother, astern-faced woman in a gown of green velvet. A necklace of golden seashells looped about her long, thin neck. \"She would not give up the little crown the rebel gave her, and when I tried to take it from her head the willful child fought me.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It was mine.\" Jeyne sobbed. \"You had no right. Robb had it made for me. I loved him.\"\n\nHer mother made to slap her, but Jaime stepped between them. \"None of that,\" he warned Lady Sybell. \"Sit down, both of you.\" The girl curled up in her chair like a frightened animal, but her mother sat stiffly, her head high. \"Will you have wine?\" he asked them. The girl did not answer. \"No, thank you,\" said her mother.\n\n\"As you will.\" Jaime turned to the daughter. \"I am sorry for your loss. The boy had courage, I'll give him that. There is a question I must ask you. Are you carrying his child, my lady?\"\n\nJeyne burst from her chair and would have fled the room if the guard at the door had not seized her by the arm. \"She is not,\" said Lady Sybell, as her daughter struggled to escape. \"I made certain of that, as your lord father bid me.\"\n\nJaime nodded. Tywin Lannister was not a man to overlook such details. \"Unhand the girl,\" he said, \"I'm done with her for now.\" As Jeyne fled sobbing down the stairs, he considered her mother. \"House Westerling has its pardon, and your brother Rolph has been made Lord of Castamere. What else would you have of us?\"\n\n\"Your lord father promised me worthy marriages for Jeyne and her younger sister. Lords or heirs, he swore tome, not younger sons nor household knights.\"\n\nLords or heirs. To be sure. The Westerlings were an old House, and proud, but Lady Sybell herself had been born a Spicer, from a line of upjumped merchants. Her grandmother had been some sort of half-mad witch woman from the east, he seemed to recall. And the Westerlings were impoverished. Younger sons would have been the best that Sybell Spicer's daughters could have hoped for in the ordinary course of events, but a nice fat pot of Lannister gold would make even a dead rebel's widow look attractive to some lord. \"You'll have your marriages,\" said Jaime, \"but Jeyne must wait two full years before she weds again.\" If the girl took another husband too soon and had a child by him, inevitably there would come whispers that the Young Wolf was the father."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I have two sons as well,\" Lady Westerling reminded him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Rollam is with me, but Raynald was a knight and went with the rebels to the Twins. If I had known what was to happen there, I would never have allowed that.\" There was a hint of reproach in her voice. \"Raynald knew nought of any... of the understanding with your lord father. He maybe a captive at the Twins.\"\n\nOr he maybe dead. Walder Frey would not have known of the understanding either. \"I will make inquiries. If Ser Raynald is still a captive, we'll pay his ransom for you.\"\n\n\"Mention was made of a match for him as well. A bride from Casterly Rock. Your lord father said that Raynald should have joy of him, if all went as we hoped.\"\n\nEven from the grave, Lord Tywin's dead hand moves us all. \"Joy is my late uncle Gerion's natural daughter. A betrothal can be arranged, if that is your wish, but any marriage will need to wait. Joy was nine or ten when last I saw her.\"\n\n\"His natural daughter?\" Lady Sybell looked as if she had swallowed a lemon. \"You want a Westerling towed a bastard?\"\n\n\"No more than I want Joy to marry the son of some scheming turncloak bitch. She deserves better.\" Jaime would happily have strangled the woman with her seashell necklace. Joy was a sweet child, albeit a lonely one; her father had been Jaime's favorite uncle. \"Your daughter is worth ten of you, my lady. You'll leave with Edmure and Ser Forley on the morrow. Until then, you would do well to stay out of my sight.\" He shouted fora guardsman, and Lady Sybell went off with her lips pressed primly together. Jaime had to wonder how much Lord Gawen knew about his wife's scheming. How much do we men ever know?"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "When Edmure and the Westerlings departed, four hundred men rode with them; Jaime had doubled the escort again at the last moment. He rode with them a few miles, to talk with Ser Forley Prester. Though he bore a bull's head upon his surcoat and horns upon his helm, Ser Forley could not have been less bovine. He was a short, spare, hard-bitten man. With his pinched nose, bald pate, and grizzled brown beard, he looked more like an innkeep than a knight. \"We don't know where the Blackfish is,\" Jaime reminded him, \"but if he can cut Edmure free, he will.\"\n\n\"That will not happen, my lord.\" Like most innkeeps, Ser Forley was no man's fool. \"Scouts and outriders will screen our march, and we'll fortify our camps by night. I have picked ten men to stay with Tully day and night, my best longbowmen. If he should ride so much as afoot off the road, they will loose so many shafts at him that his own mother would take him fora goose.\"\n\n\"Good.\" Jaime would as lief have Tully reach Casterly Rock safely, but better dead than fled. \"Best keep some archers near Lord Westerling's daughter as well.\"\n\nSer Forley seemed taken aback. \"Gawen's girl? She's-\"\n\n\"-the Young Wolf's widow,\" Jaime finished, \"and twice as dangerous as Edmure if she were ever to escape us.\"\n\n\"As you say, my lord. She will be watched.\"\n\nJaime had to canter past the Westerlings as he rode down the column on his way back to Riverrun. Lord Gawen nodded gravely as he passed, but Lady Sybell looked through him with eyes like chips of ice. Jeyne never saw him at all. The widow rode with downcast eyes, huddled beneath a hooded cloak. Underneath its heavy folds, her clothes were finely made, but torn. She ripped them herself, as a mark of mourning, Jaime realized. That could not have pleased her mother. He found himself wondering if Cersei would tear her gown if she should ever hear that he was dead."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He did not go straight back to the castle but crossed the Tumblestone once more to call on Edwyn Frey and discuss the transfer of his great-grandfather's prisoners. The Frey host had begun to breakup within hours of Riverrun's surrender, as Lord Walder's bannermen and freeriders pulled up stakes to make for home. The Freys who still remained were striking camp, but he found Edwyn with his bastard uncle in the latter's pavilion.\n\nThe two of them were huddled over a map, arguing heatedly, but they broke off when Jaime entered. \"Lord Commander,\" Rivers said with cold courtesy, but Edwyn blurted out, \"My father's blood is on your hands, ser.\"\n\nThat took Jaime a bit aback. \"How so?\"\n\n\"You were the one who sent him home, were you not?\"\n\nSomeone had to. \"Has some ill befallen Ser Ryman?\"\n\n\"Hanged with all his party,\" said Walder Rivers. \"The outlaws caught them two leagues south of Fairmarket.\"\n\n\"Dondarrion?\"\n\n\"Him, or Thoros, or this woman Stoneheart.\"\n\nJaime frowned. Ryman Frey had been a fool, a craven, and a sot, and no one was like to miss him much, least of all his fellow Freys. If Edwyn's dry eyes were any clue, even his own sons would not mourn him long. Still... these outlaws are growing bold, if they dare hang Lord Walder's heir not a day's ride from the Twins. \"How many men did Ser Ryman have with him?\" he asked.\n\n\"Three knights and a dozen men-at-arms,\" said Rivers. \"It is almost as if they knew that he would be returning to the Twins, and with a small escort.\""
},
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"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Edwyn's mouth twisted. \"My brother had a hand in this, I'll wager. He allowed the outlaws to escape after they murdered Merrett and Petyr, and this is why. With our father dead, there's only me left between Black Walder and the Twins.\"\n\n\"You have no proof of this,\" said Walder Rivers.\n\n\"I do not need proof. I know my brother.\"\n\n\"Your brother is at Seagard,\" Rivers insisted. \"How could he have known that Ser Ryman was returning to the Twins?\"\n\n\"Someone told him,\" said Edwyn in a bitter tone. \"He has his spies in our camp, you can be sure.\"\n\nAnd you have yours at Seagard. Jaime knew that the enmity between Edwyn and Black Walder ran deep, but cared not a fig which of them succeeded their great-grandfather as Lord of the Crossing.\n\n\"If you will pardon me for intruding on your grief,\" he said, in a dry tone, \"we have other matters to consider. When you return to the Twins, please inform Lord Walder that King Tommen requires all the captives you took at the Red Wedding.\"\n\nSer Walder frowned. \"These prisoners are valuable, ser.\"\n\n\"His Grace would not ask for them if they were worthless.\"\n\nFrey and Rivers exchanged a look. Edwyn said, \"My lord grandfather will expect recompense for these prisoners.\"\n\nAnd he'll have it, as soon as I grow anew hand, thought Jaime. \"We all have expectations,\" he said mildly. \"Tell me, is Ser Raynald Westerling amongst these captives?\"\n\n\"The knight of seashells?\" Edwyn sneered. \"You'll find that one feeding the fish at the bottom of the Green Fork.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He was in the yard when our men came to put the direwolf down,\" said Walder Rivers. \"Whalen demanded his sword and he gave it over meek enough, but when the crossbowmen began feathering the wolf he seized Whalen's axe and cut the monster loose of the net they'd thrown over him. Whalen says he took a quarrel in his shoulder and another in the gut, but still managed to reach the wallwalk and throw himself into the river.\"\n\n\"He left a trail of blood on the steps,\" said Edwyn.\n\n\"Did you find his corpse afterward?\" asked Jaime.\n\n\"We found a thousand corpses afterward. Once they've spent a few days in the river they all look much the same.\"\n\n\"I've heard the same is true of hanged men,\" said Jaime, before he took his leave.\n\nBy the next morning little remained of the Frey encampment but flies, horse dung, and Ser Ryman's gallows, standing forlorn beside the Tumblestone. His coz wanted to know what should be done with it, and with the siege equipment he had built, his rams and sows and towers and trebuchets. Daven proposed that they drag it all to Raventree and use it there. Jaime told him to put everything to the torch, starting with the gallows. \"I mean to deal with Lord Tytos myself. It won't require a siege tower.\"\n\nDaven grinned through his bushy beard. \"Single combat, coz? Scarce seems fair. Tytos is an old grey man.\"\n\nAn old grey man with two hands.\n\nThat night he and Ser Ilyn fought for three hours. It was one of his better nights. If they had been in earnest, Payne only would have killed him twice. Half a dozen deaths were more the rule, and some nights were worse than that. \"If I keep at this for another year, I maybe as good as Peck,\" Jaime declared, and Ser Ilyn made that clacking sound that meant he was amused. \"Come, let's drink some more of Hoster Tully's good red wine.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Wine had become apart of their nightly ritual. Ser Ilyn made the perfect drinking companion. He never interrupted, never disagreed, never complained or asked for favors or told long pointless stories. All he did was drink and listen.\n\n\"I should have the tongues removed from all my friends,\" said Jaime as he filled their cups, \"and from my kin as well. A silent Cersei would be sweet. Though I'd miss her tongue when we kissed.\" He drank. The wine was a deep red, sweet and heavy. It warmed him going down. \"I can't remember when we first began to kiss. It was innocent at first. Until it wasn't.\" He finished the wine and set his cup aside. \"Tyrion once told me that most whores will not kiss you. They'll fuck you blind, he said, but you'll never feel their lips on yours. Do you think my sister kisses Kettleblack?\"\n\nSer Ilyn did not answer.\n\n\"I don't think it would be proper for me to slay mine own Sworn Brother. What I need to do is geld him and send him to the Wall. That's what they did with Lucamore the Lusty. Ser Osmund may not take kindly to the gelding, to be sure. And there are his brothers to consider. Brothers can be dangerous. After Aegon the Unworthy put Ser Terrence Toyne to death for sleeping with his mistress, Toyne's brothers did their best to kill him. Their best was not quite good enough, thanks to the Dragonknight, but it was not for want of trying. It's written down in the White Book. All of it, save what to do with Cersei.\"\n\nSer Ilyn drew a finger across his throat.\n\n\"No,\" said Jaime. \"Tommen has lost a brother, and the man he thought of as his father. If I were to kill his mother, he would hate me for it... and that sweet little wife of his would find away to turn that hatred to the benefit of Highgarden.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Ilyn smiled in away Jaime did not like. An ugly smile. An ugly soul. \"You talk too much,\" he told the man.\n\nThe next day Ser Dermot of the Rainwood returned to the castle, empty-handed. When asked what he'd found, he answered, \"Wolves. Hundreds of the bloody beggars.\" He'd lost two sentries to them. The wolves had come out of the dark to savage them. \"Armed men in mail and boiled leather, and yet the beasts had no fear of them. Before he died, Jate said the pack was led by a she-wolf of monstrous size. A direwolf, to hear him tell it. The wolves got in amongst our horse lines too. The bloody bastards killed my favorite bay.\"\n\n\"A ring of fires round your camp might keep them off,\" said Jaime, though he wondered. Could Ser Dermot's direwolf be the same beast that had mauled Joffrey near the crossroads?\n\nWolves or no, Ser Dermot took fresh horses and more men and went out again the next morning, to resume the search for Brynden Tully. That same afternoon, the lords of the Trident came to Jaime asking his leave to return to their own lands. He granted it. Lord Piper also wanted to know about his son Marq. \"All the captives will be ransomed,\" Jaime promised. As the riverlords took their leave, Lord Karyl Vance lingered to say, \"Lord Jaime, you must go to Raventree. So long as it is Jonos at his gates Tytos will never yield, but I know he will bend his knee for you.\" Jaime thanked him for his counsel.\n\nStrongboar was the next to depart. He wanted to return to Darry as he'd promised and fight the outlaws. \"We rode across half the bloody realm and for what? So you could make Edmure Tully piss his breeches? There's no song in that. I need a fight. I want the Hound, Jaime. Him, or the marcher lord.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Hound's head is yours if you can take it,\" Jaime said, \"but Beric Dondarrion is to be captured alive, so he can be brought back to King's Landing. A thousand people need to see him die, or else he won't stay dead.\" Strongboar grumbled at that, but finally agreed. The next day he departed with his squire and men-at-arms, plus Beardless Jon Bettley, who had decided that hunting outlaws was preferable to returning to his famously homely wife. Supposedly she had the beard that Bettley lacked.\n\nJaime still had the garrison to deal with. To a man, they swore that they knew nothing of Ser Brynden's plans or where he might have gone. \"They are lying,\" Emmon Frey insisted, but Jaime thought not. \"If you share your plans with no one, no one can betray you,\" he pointed out. Lady Genna suggested that a few of the men might be put to the question. He refused. \"I gave Edmure my word that if he yielded, the garrison could leave unharmed.\"\n\n\"That was chivalrous of you,\" his aunt said, \"but it's strength that's needed here, not chivalry.\"\n\nAsk Edmure how chivalrous I am, thought Jaime. Ask him about the trebuchet. Somehow he did not think the maesters were like to confuse him with Prince Aemon the Dragonknight when they wrote their histories. Still, he felt curiously content. The war was all but won. Dragonstone had fallen and Storm's End would soon enough, he could not doubt, and Stannis was welcome to the Wall. The northmen would love him no more than the storm lords had. If Roose Bolton did not destroy him, winter would."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And he had done his own part here at Riverrun without actually ever taking up arms against the Starks or Tullys. Once he found the Blackfish, he would be free to return to King's Landing, where he belonged. My place is with my king. With my son. Would Tommen want to know that? The truth could cost the boy his throne. Would you sooner have a father or a chair, lad? Jaime wished he knew the answer. He does like stamping papers with his seal. The boy might not even believe him, to be sure. Cersei would say it was a lie. My sweet sister, the deceiver. He would need to find someway to winkle Tommen from her clutches before the boy became another Joffrey. And whilst at that, he should find the lad anew small council too. If Cersei can be put aside, Ser Kevan may agree to serve as Tommen's Hand. And if not, well, the Seven Kingdoms did not lack for able men. Forley Prester would make a good choice, or Roland Crakehall. If someone other than a westerman was needed to appease the Tyrells, there was always Mathis Rowan... or even Petyr Baelish. Littlefinger was as amiable as he was clever, but too lowborn to threaten any of the great lords, with no swords of his own. The perfect Hand.\n\nThe Tully garrison departed the next morning, stripped of all their arms and armor. Each man was allowed three days'food and the clothing on his back, after he swore a solemn oath never to take up arms against Lord Emmon or House Lannister. \"If you're fortunate, one man in ten may keep that vow,\" Lady Genna said.\n\n\"Good. I'd sooner face nine men than ten. The tenth might have been the one who would have killed me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The other nine will kill you just as quick.\"\n\n\"Better that than die in bed.\" Or on the privy.\n\nTwo men did not choose to depart with the others. Ser Desmond Grell, Lord Hoster's old master-at-arms, preferred to take the black. So did Ser Robin Ryger, Riverrun's captain of guards. \"This castle's been my home for forty years,\" said Grell. \"You say I'm free to go, but where? I'm too old and too stout to make a hedge knight. But men are always welcome at the Wall.\"\n\n\"As you wish,\" said Jaime, though it was a bloody nuisance. He allowed them to keep their arms and armor, and assigned a dozen of Gregor Clegane's men to escort the two of them to Maidenpool. The command he gave to Rafford, the one they called the Sweetling. \"See to it that the prisoners reach Maidenpool unspoiled,\" he told the man, \"or what Ser Gregor did to the Goat will seem a jolly lark compared to what I'll do to you.\"\n\nMore days passed. Lord Emmon assembled all of Riverrun in the yard, Lord Edmure's people and his own, and spoke to them for close on three hours about what would be expected of them now that he was their lord and master. From time to time he waved his parchment, as stableboys and serving girls and smiths listened in a sullen silence and alight rain fell down upon them all.\n\nThe singer was listening too, the one that Jaime had taken from Ser Ryman Frey. Jaime came upon him standing inside an open door, where it was dry. \"His lordship should have been a singer,\" the man said. \"This speech is longer than a marcher ballad, and I don't think he's stopped for breath.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jaime had to laugh. \"Lord Emmon does not need to breathe, so long as he can chew. Are you going to make a song of it?\"\n\n\"A funny one. I'll call it'Talking to the Fish. '\"\n\n\"Just don't play it where my aunt can hear.\" Jaime had never paid the man much mind before. He was a small fellow, garbed in ragged green breeches and a frayed tunic of a lighter shade of green, with brown leather patches covering the holes. His nose was long and sharp, his smile big and loose. Thin brown hair fell to his collar, snaggled and unwashed. Fifty if he's a day, thought Jaime, a hedge harp, and hard used by life. \"Weren't you Ser Ryman's man when I found you?\" he asked.\n\n\"Only fora fortnight.\"\n\n\"I would have expected you to depart with the Freys.\"\n\n\"That one up there's a Frey,\" the singer said, nodding at Lord Emmon, \"and this castle seems a nice snug place to pass the winter. Whitesmile Wat went home with Ser Forley, so I thought I'd see if I could win his place. Wat's got that high sweet voice that the likes o\" me can't hope to match. But I know twice as many bawdy songs as he does. Begging my lord's pardon.\"\n\n\"You should get on famously with my aunt,\" said Jaime. \"If you hope to winter here, see that your playing pleases Lady Genna. She's the one that matters.\"\n\n\"Not you?\"\n\n\"My place is with the king. I shall not stay here long.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry to hear that, my lord. I know better songs than'The Rains of Castamere. \"I could have played you... oh, all sorts o\" things.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Some other time,\" said Jaime. \"Do you have a name?\"\n\n\"Tom of Sevenstreams, if it please my lord.\" The singer doffed his hat. \"Most call me Tom o' Sevens, though.\"\n\n\"Sing sweetly, Tom o' Sevens.\"\n\nThat night he dreamt that he was back in the Great Sept of Baelor, still standing vigil over his father's corpse. The sept was still and dark, until a woman emerged from the shadows and walked slowly to the bier. \"Sister?\" he said.\n\nBut it was not Cersei. She was all in grey, a silent sister. A hood and veil concealed her features, but he could seethe candles burning in the green pools of her eyes. \"Sister,\" he said, \"what would you have of me?\" His last word echoed up and down the sept, mememememememememememe.\n\n\"I am not your sister, Jaime.\" She raised a pale soft hand and pushed her hood back. \"Have you forgotten me?\"\n\nCan I forget someone I never knew? The words caught in his throat. He did know her, but it had been so long...\n\n\"Will you forget your own lord father too? I wonder if you ever knew him, truly.\" Her eyes were green, her hair spun gold. He could not tell how old she was. Fifteen, he thought, or fifty. She climbed the steps to stand above the bier. \"He could never abide being laughed at. That was the thing he hated most.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" He had to hear her say it.\n\n\"The question is, who are you?\"\n\n\"This is a dream.\"\n\n\"Is it?\" She smiled sadly. \"Count your hands, child.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Co-writing with the writer, continue the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Feast for Crows\nChapter: 47"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Some other time,\" said Jaime. \"Do you have a name?\"\n\n\"Tom of Sevenstreams, if it please my lord.\" The singer doffed his hat. \"Most call me Tom o' Sevens, though.\"\n\n\"Sing sweetly, Tom o' Sevens.\"\n\nThat night he dreamt that he was back in the Great Sept of Baelor, still standing vigil over his father's corpse. The sept was still and dark, until a woman emerged from the shadows and walked slowly to the bier. \"Sister?\" he said.\n\nBut it was not Cersei. She was all in grey, a silent sister. A hood and veil concealed her features, but he could seethe candles burning in the green pools of her eyes. \"Sister,\" he said, \"what would you have of me?\" His last word echoed up and down the sept, mememememememememememe.\n\n\"I am not your sister, Jaime.\" She raised a pale soft hand and pushed her hood back. \"Have you forgotten me?\"\n\nCan I forget someone I never knew? The words caught in his throat. He did know her, but it had been so long...\n\n\"Will you forget your own lord father too? I wonder if you ever knew him, truly.\" Her eyes were green, her hair spun gold. He could not tell how old she was. Fifteen, he thought, or fifty. She climbed the steps to stand above the bier. \"He could never abide being laughed at. That was the thing he hated most.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" He had to hear her say it.\n\n\"The question is, who are you?\"\n\n\"This is a dream.\"\n\n\"Is it?\" She smiled sadly. \"Count your hands, child.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "One."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One hand, clasped tight around the sword hilt. Only one. \"In my dreams I always have two hands.\" He raised his right arm and stared uncomprehending at the ugliness of his stump.\n\n\"We all dream of things we cannot have. Tywin dreamed that his son would be a great knight, that his daughter would be a queen. He dreamed they would be so strong and brave and beautiful that no one would ever laugh at them.\"\n\n\"I am a knight,\" he told her, \"and Cersei is a queen.\"\n\nA tear rolled down her cheek. The woman raised her hood again and turned her back on him. Jaime called after her, but already she was moving away, her skirt whispering lullabies as it brushed across the floor. Don't leave me, he wanted to call, but of course she'd left them long ago.\n\nHe woke in darkness, shivering. The room had grown cold as ice. Jaime flung aside the covers with the stump of his sword hand. The fire in the hearth had died, he saw, and the window had blown open. He crossed the pitch-dark chamber to fumble with the shutters, but when he reached the window his barefoot came down in something wet. Jaime recoiled, startled fora moment. His first thought was of blood, but blood would not have been so cold.\n\nIt was snow, drifting through the window.\n\nInstead of closing the shutters he threw them wide. The yard below was covered by a thin white blanket, growing thicker even as he watched. The merlons on the battlements wore white cowls. The flakes fell silently, a few drifting in the window to melt upon his face. Jaime could see his own breath.\n\nSnow in the riverlands. If it was snowing here, it could well be snowing on Lannisport as well, and on King's Landing. Winter is marching south, and half our granaries are empty. Any crops still in the fields were doomed. There would be no more plantings, no more hopes of one last harvest. He found himself wondering what his father would do to feed the realm, before he remembered that Tywin Lannister was dead."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When morning broke the snow was ankle deep, and deeper in the godswood, where drifts had piled up under the trees. Squires, stableboys, and highborn pages turned to children again under its cold white spell, and fought a snowball war up and down the wards and all along the battlements. Jaime heard them laughing. There was a time, not long ago, when he might have been out making snowballs with the best of them, to fling at Tyrion when he waddled by, or slip down the back of Cersei's gown. You need two hands to make a decent snowball, though.\n\nThere was a rap upon his door. \"See who that is, Peck.\"\n\nIt was Riverrun's old maester, with a message clutched in his lined and wrinkled hand. Vyman's face was as pale as the new-fallen snow. \"I know,\" Jaime said, \"there has been a white raven from the Citadel. Winter has come.\"\n\n\"No, my lord. The bird was from King's Landing. I took the liberty... I did not know...\" He held the letter out.\n\nJaime read it in the window seat, bathed in the light of that cold white morning. Qyburn's words were terse and to the point, Cersei's fevered and fervent. Come at once, she said. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.\n\nVyman was hovering by the door, waiting, and Jaime sensed that Peck was watching too. \"Does my lord wish to answer?\" the maester asked, after along silence.\n\nA snowflake landed on the letter. As it melted, the ink began to blur. Jaime rolled the parchment up again, as tight as one hand would allow, and handed it to Peck. \"No,\" he said. \"Put this in the fire.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SAMWELL\n\nThe most perilous part of the voyage was the last. The Redwyne Straits were swarming with longships, as they had been warned in Tyrosh. With the main strength of the Arbor's fleet on the far side of Westeros, the ironmen had sacked Ryamsport and taken Vinetown and Starfish Harbor for their own, using them as bases to prey on shipping bound for Oldtown.\n\nThrice longships were sighted by the crow's nest. Two were well astern, however, and the Cinnamon Wind soon outdistanced them. The third appeared near sunset, to cut them off from Whispering Sound. When they saw her oars rising and falling, lashing the copper waters white, Kojja Mo sent her archers to the castles with their great bows of goldenheart that could send a shaft farther and truer than even Dornish yew. She waited till the longship came within two hundred yards before she gave the command to loose. Sam loosed with them, and this time he thought his arrow reached the ship. One volley was all it took. The longship veered south in search of tamer prey.\n\nA deep blue dusk was falling as they entered Whispering Sound. Gilly stood beside the prow with the babe, gazing up at a castle on the cliffs. \"Three Towers,\" Sam told her, \"the seat of House Costayne.\" Etched against the evening stars with torchlight flickering from its windows, the castle made a splendid sight, but he was sad to see it. Their voyage was almost at its end.\n\n\"It's very tall,\" said Gilly.\n\n\"Wait until you seethe Hightower.\"\n\nDalla's babe began to cry. Gilly pulled open her tunic and gave the boy her breast. She smiled as he nursed, and stroked his soft brown hair. She has come to love this one as much as the one she left behind, Sam realized. He hoped that the gods would be kind to both of the children."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The ironmen had penetrated even to the sheltered waters of Whispering Sound."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Come morning, as the Cinnamon Wind continued on toward Oldtown, she began to bump up against corpses drifting down to the sea. Some of the bodies carried complements of crows, who rose into the air complaining noisily when the swan ship disturbed their grotesquely swollen rafts. Scorched fields and burned villages appeared on the banks, and the shallows and sandbars were strewn with shattered ships. Merchanters and fishing boats were the most common, but they saw abandoned longships too, and the wreckage of two big dromonds. One had been burned down to the waterline, whilst the other had a gaping splintered hole in her side where her hull had been rammed.\n\n\"Battle here,\" said Xhondo. \"Not so long.\"\n\n\"Who would be so mad as to raid this close to Oldtown?\"\n\nXhondo pointed at a half-sunken longship in the shallows. The remnants of a banner drooped from her stern, smoke-stained and ragged. The charge was one Sam had never seen before: a red eye with a black pupil, beneath a black iron crown supported by two crows. \"Whose banner is that?\" Sam asked. Xhondo only shrugged.\n\nThe next day was cold and misty. As the Cinnamon Wind was creeping past another plundered fishing village, a war galley came sliding from the fog, stroking slowly toward them. Huntress was the name she bore, behind a figurehead of a slender maiden clad in leaves and brandishing a spear. A heartbeat later, two smaller galleys appeared on either side of her, like a pair of matched greyhounds stalking at their master's heels. To Sam's relief, they flew King Tommen's stag-and-lion banner above the stepped white tower of Oldtown, with its crown of flame."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The captain of the Huntress was a tall man in a smoke-grey cloak with a border of red satin flames."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He brought his galley in alongside the Cinnamon Wind, raised his oars, and shouted that he was coming aboard. As his crossbowmen and Kojja Mo's archers eyed each other across the narrow span of water, he crossed over with half a dozen knights, gave Quhuru Mo a nod, and asked to see his holds. Father and daughter conferred briefly, then agreed.\n\n\"My apologies,\" the captain said when his inspection was complete. \"It grieves me that honest men must suffer such discourtesy, but sooner that than ironmen in Oldtown. Only a fortnight ago some of those bloody bastards captured a Tyroshi merchantman in the straits. They killed her crew, donned their clothes, and used the dyes they found to color their whiskers half a hundred colors. Once inside the walls they meant to set the port ablaze and open agate from within whilst we fought the fire. Might have worked, but they ran afoul of the Lady of the Tower, and her oarsmaster has a Tyroshi wife. When he saw all the green and purple beards he hailed them in the tongue of Tyrosh, and not one of them had the words to hail him back.\"\n\nSam was aghast. \"They cannot mean to raid Oldtown.\"\n\nThe captain of the Huntress gave him a curious look. \"These are no mere reavers. The ironmen have always raided where they could. They would strike sudden from the sea, carry off some gold and girls, and sail away, but there were seldom more than one or two longships, and nevermore than half a dozen. Hundreds of their ships afflict us now, sailing out of the Shield Islands and some of the rocks around the Arbor. They have taken Stonecrab Cay, the Isle of Pigs, and the Mermaid's Palace, and there are other nests on Horseshoe Rock and Bastard's Cradle. Without Lord Redwyne's fleet, we lack the ships to come to grips with them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What is Lord Hightower doing?\" Sam blurted. \"My father always said he was as wealthy as the Lannisters, and could command thrice as many swords as any of Highgarden's other bannermen.\"\n\n\"More, if he sweeps the cobblestones,\" the captain said, \"but swords are no good against the ironmen, unless the men who wield them know how to walk on water.\"\n\n\"The Hightower must be doing something.\"\n\n\"To be sure. Lord Leyton's locked atop his tower with the Mad Maid, consulting books of spells. Might be he'll raise an army from the deeps. Or not. Baelor's building galleys, Gunthor has charge of the harbor, Garth is training new recruits, and Humfrey's gone to Lys to hire sellsails. If he can winkle a proper fleet out of his whore of a sister, we can start paying back the ironmen with some of their own coin. Till then, the best we can do is guard the sound and wait for the bitch queen in King's Landing to let Lord Paxter off his leash.\"\n\nThe bitterness of the captain's final words shocked Sam as much as the things he said. If King's Landing loses Oldtown and the Arbor, the whole realm will fall to pieces, he thought as he watched the Huntress and her sisters moving off.\n\nIt made him wonder if even Horn Hill was truly safe. The Tarly lands lay inland amidst thickly wooded foothills, a hundred leagues northeast of Oldtown and along way from any coast. They should be well beyond the reach of ironmen and longships, even with his lord father off fighting in the riverlands and the castle lightly held. The Young Wolf had no doubt thought the same was true of Winterfell until the night that Theon Turncloak scaled his walls. Sam could not bear the thought that he might have brought Gilly and her babe all this long way to keep them out of harm, only to abandon them in the midst of war."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He wrestled with his doubts through the rest of the voyage, wondering what to do. He could keep Gilly with him in Oldtown, he supposed. The city's walls were much more formidable than those of his father's castle, and had thousands of men to defend them, as opposed to the handful Lord Randyll would have left at Horn Hill when he marched to Highgarden to answer his liege lord's summons. If he did, though, he would need to hide her somehow; the Citadel did not permit its novices to keep wives or paramours, at least not openly. Besides, if I stay with Gilly very much longer, how will I ever find the strength to leave her? He had to leave her, or desert. I said the words, Sam reminded himself. If I desert, it will mean my head, and how will that help Gilly?\n\nHe considered begging Kojja Mo and her father to take the wildling girl with them to the Summer Isles. That path had its perils too, however. When the Cinnamon Wind left Oldtown, she would need to cross the Redwyne Straits again, and this time she might not be so fortunate. What if the wind died, and the Summer Islanders found themselves becalmed? If the tales he'd heard were true, Gilly would be carried off fora thrall or salt wife, and the babe was like to be chucked into the sea as a nuisance.\n\nIt has to be Horn Hill, Sam finally decided. Once we reach Oldtown I'll hire a wagon and some horses and take her there myself. That way he could make certain of the castle and its garrison, and if any part of what he saw or heard gave him pause, he could just turnaround and bring Gilly back to Oldtown.\n\nThey reached Oldtown on a cold damp morning, when the fog was so thick that the beacon of the Hightower was the only part of the city to be seen. A boom stretched across the harbor, linking two dozen rotted hulks. Just behind it stood a line of warships, anchored by three big dromonds and Lord Hightower's towering four-decked banner ship, the Honor of Oldtown. Once again the Cinnamon Wind had to submit to inspection. This time it was Lord Leyton's son Gunthor who came aboard, in a cloth-of-silver cloak and a suit of grey enameled scales. Ser Gunthor had studied at the Citadel for several years and spoke the Summer Tongue, so he and Qurulu Mo adjourned to the captain's cabin fora privy conference."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sam used the time to explain his plans to Gilly. \"First the Citadel, to present Jon's letters and tell them of Maester Aemon's death. I expect the archmaesters will send a cart for his body. Then I will arrange for horses and a wagon to take you to my mother at Horn Hill. I will be back as soon as I can, but it may not be until the morrow.\"\n\n\"The morrow,\" she repeated, and gave him a kiss for luck.\n\nAt length Ser Gunthor reemerged and gave the signal for the chain to be opened so the Cinnamon Wind could slip through the boom to dock. Sam joined Kojja Mo and three of her archers near the gangplank as the swan ship was tying up, the Summer Islanders resplendent in the feathered cloaks they only wore ashore. He felt a shabby thing beside them in his baggy blacks, faded cloak, and salt-stained boots. \"How long will you remain in port?\"\n\n\"Two days, ten days, who can say? However long it takes to empty our holds and fill them again.\" Kojja grinned. \"My father must visit the grey maesters as well. He has books to sell.\"\n\n\"Can Gilly stay aboard till I return?\"\n\n\"Gilly can stay as long as she likes.\" She poked Sam in the belly with a finger. \"She does not eat so much as some.\"\n\n\"I'm not so fat as I was before,\" Sam said defensively. The passage south had seen to that. All those watches, and nothing to eat but fruit and fish. Summer Islanders loved fruit and fish.\n\nSam followed the archers across the plank, but once ashore they parted company and went their separate ways. He hoped he still remembered the way to the Citadel. Oldtown was amaze, and he had no time forgetting lost."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The day was damp, so the cobblestones were wet and slippery underfoot, the alleys shrouded in mist and mystery. Sam avoided them as best he could and stayed on the river road that wound along beside the Honeywine through the heart of the old city. It felt good to have solid ground beneath his feet again instead of a rolling deck, but the walk made him feel uncomfortable all the same. He could feel eyes on him, peering down from balconies and windows, watching him from the darkened doorways. On the Cinnamon Wind he had known every face. Here, everywhere he turned he saw another stranger. Even worse was the thought of being seen by someone who knew him. Lord Randyll Tarly was known in Oldtown, but little loved. Sam did not know which would be worse: to be recognized by one of his lord father's enemies or by one of his friends. He pulled his cloak up and quickened his pace.\n\nThe gates of the Citadel were flanked by a pair of towering green sphinxes with the bodies of lions, the wings of eagles, and the tails of serpents. One had a man's face, one a woman's. Just beyond stood Scribe's Hearth, where Oldtowners came in search of acolytes to write their wills and read their letters. Half a dozen bored scribes satin open stalls, waiting for some custom. At other stalls books were being bought and sold. Sam stopped atone that offered maps, and looked over a hand-drawn map of Citadel to ascertain the shortest way to the Seneschal's Court.\n\nThe path divided where the statue of King Daeron the First sat astride his tall stone horse, his sword lifted toward Dorne. A seagull was perched on the Young Dragon's head, and two more on the blade. Sam took the left fork, which ran beside the river. At the Weeping Dock, he watched two acolytes help an old man into a boat for the short voyage to the Bloody Isle. A young mother climbed in after him, a babe not much older than Gilly's squalling in her arms. Beneath the dock, some cook's boys waded in the shallows, gathering frogs. A stream of pink-cheeked novices hurried by him toward the septry. I should have come here when I was their age, Sam thought. If I had runoff and taken a false name, I could have disappeared amongst the other novices. Father could have pretended that Dickon was his only son. I doubt he would even have troubled to search for me, unless I took a mule to ride. Then he would have hunted me down, but only for the mule."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Outside the Seneschal's Court, the rectors were locking an older novice into the stocks. \"Stealing food from the kitchens,\" one explained to the acolytes who were waiting to pelt the captive with rotting vegetables. They all gave Sam curious looks as he strode past, his black cloak billowing behind him like a sail.\n\nBeyond the doors he found a hall with a stone floor and high, arched windows. At the far end a man with a pinched face sat upon a raised dais, scratching in a ledger with a quill. Though the man was clad in a maester's robe, there was no chain about his neck. Sam cleared his throat. \"Good morrow.\"\n\nThe man glanced up and did not appear to approve of what he saw. \"You smell of novice.\"\n\n\"I hope to be one soon.\" Sam drew out the letters Jon Snow had given him. \"I came from the Wall with Maester Aemon, but he died during the voyage. If I could speak with the Seneschal...\"\n\n\"Your name?\"\n\n\"Samwell. Samwell Tarly.\"\n\nThe man wrote the name in his ledger and waved his quill at a bench along the wall. \"Sit. You'll be called when wanted.\"\n\nSam took a seat on the bench.\n\nOthers came and went. Some delivered messages and took their leave. Some spoke to the man on the dais and were sent through the door behind him and up a turnpike stair. Some joined Sam on the benches, waiting for their names to be called. A few of those who were summoned had come in after him, he was almost certain. After the fourth or fifth time that happened, he rose and crossed the room again. \"How much longer will it be?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Seneschal is an important man.\"\n\n\"I came all the way from the Wall.\"\n\n\"Then you will have no trouble going a bit farther.\" He waved his quill. \"To that bench just there, beneath the window.\"\n\nSam returned to the bench. Another hour passed. Others entered, spoke to the man on the dais, waited a few moments, and were ushered onward. The gatekeeper did not so much as glance at Sam in all that time. The fog outside grew thinner as the day wore on, and pale sunlight slanted down through the windows. He found himself watching dust motes dance in the light. A yawn escaped him, then another. He picked at a broken blister on his palm, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.\n\nHe must have drowsed. The next he knew, the man behind the dais was calling out a name. Sam came lurching to his feet, then sat back down again when he realized it was not his name.\n\n\"You need to slip Lorcas a penny, or you'll be waiting here three days,\" a voice beside him said. \"What brings the Night's Watch to the Citadel?\"\n\nThe speaker was a slim, slight, comely youth, clad in doeskin breeches and a snug green brigandine with iron studs. He had skin the color of alight brown ale and a cap of tight black curls that came to a widow's peak above his big black eyes. \"The Lord Commander is restoring the abandoned castles,\" Sam explained. \"We need more maesters, for the ravens... did you say, a penny?\"\n\n\"A penny will serve. Fora silver stag Lorcas will carry you up to the Seneschal on his back. He has been fifty years an acolyte. He hates novices, particularly novices of noble birth.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How could you tell I was of noble birth?\"\n\n\"The same way you can tell that I'm half Dornish.\" The statement was delivered with a smile, in a soft Dornish drawl.\n\nSam fumbled fora penny. \"Are you a novice?\"\n\n\"An acolyte. Alleras, by some called Sphinx.\"\n\nThe name gave Sam a jolt. \"The sphinx is the riddle, not the riddler,\" he blurted. \"Do you know what that means?\"\n\n\"No. Is it a riddle?\"\n\n\"I wish I knew. I'm Samwell Tarly. Sam.\"\n\n\"Well met. And what business does Samwell Tarly have with Archmaester Theobald?\"\n\n\"Is he the Seneschal?\" said Sam, confused. \"Maester Aemon said his name was Norren.\"\n\n\"Not for the past two turns. There is anew one every year. They fill the office by lot from amongst the archmaesters, most of whom regard it as a thankless task that takes them away from their true work. This year the black stone was drawn by Archmaester Walgrave, but Walgrave's wits are prone to wander, so Theobald stepped up and said he'd serve his term. He's a gruff man, but a good one. Did you say Maester Aemon?\"\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"Aemon Targaryen?\"\n\n\"Once. Most just called him Maester Aemon. He died during our voyage south. How is it that you know of him?\"\n\n\"How not? He was more than just the oldest living maester. He was the oldest man in Westeros, and lived through more history than Archmaester Perestan has ever learned. He could have told us much and more about his father's reign, and his uncle's. How old was he, do you know?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"One hundred and two.\"\n\n\"What was he doing at sea, at his age?\"\n\nSam chewed on the question fora moment, wondering how much he ought to say. The sphinx is the riddle, not the riddler. Could Maester Aemon have meant this Sphinx? It seemed unlikely. \"Lord Commander Snow sent him away to save his life,\" he began, hesitantly. He spoke awkwardly of King Stannis and Melisandre of Asshai, intending to stop at that, but one thing led to another and he found himself speaking of Mance Rayder and his wildlings, king's blood and dragons, and before he knew what was happening, all the rest came spilling out; the wights at the Fist of First Men, the Other on his dead horse, the murder of the Old Bear at Craster's Keep, Gilly and their flight, Whitetree and Small Paul, Coldhands and the ravens, Jon's becoming lord commander, the Blackbird, Dareon, Braavos, the dragons Xhondo saw in Qarth, the Cinnamon Wind and all that Maester Aemon whispered toward the end. He held back only the secrets that he was sworn to keep, about Bran Stark and his companions and the babes Jon Snow had swapped. \"Daenerys is the only hope,\" he concluded. \"Aemon said the Citadel must send her a maester at once, to bring her home to Westeros before it is too late.\"\n\nAlleras listened intently. He blinked from time to time, but he never laughed and never interrupted. When Sam was done he touched him lightly on the forearm with a slim brown hand and said, \"Save your penny, Sam. Theobald will not believe half of that, but there are those who might. Will you come with me?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where?\"\n\n\"To speak with an archmaester.\"\n\nYou must tell them, Sam, Maester Aemon had said. You must tell the archmaesters. \"Very well.\" He could always return to the Seneschal on the morrow, with a penny in his hand. \"How far do we have to go?\"\n\n\"Not far. The Isle of Ravens.\"\n\nThey did not need a boat to reach the Isle of Ravens; a weathered wooden drawbridge linked it to the eastern bank. \"The Ravenry is the oldest building at the Citadel,\" Alleras told him, as they crossed over the slow-flowing waters of the Honeywine. \"In the Age of Heroes it was supposedly the stronghold of a pirate lord who sat here robbing ships as they came down the river.\"\n\nMoss and creeping vines covered the walls, Sam saw, and ravens walked its battlements in place of archers. The drawbridge had not been raised in living memory.\n\nIt was cool and dim inside the castle walls. An ancient weirwood filled the yard, as it had since these stones had first been raised. The carved face on its trunk was grown over by the same purple moss that hung heavy from the tree's pale limbs. Half of the branches seemed dead, but elsewhere a few red leaves still rustled, and it was there the ravens liked to perch. The tree was full of them, and there were more in the arched windows overhead, all around the yard. The ground was speckled by their droppings. As they crossed the yard, one flapped overhead and he heard the others quork ing to each other. \"Archmaester Walgrave has his chambers in the west tower, below the white rookery,\" Alleras told him. \"The white ravens and the black ones quarrel like Dornishmen and Marchers, so they keep them apart.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Will Archmaester Walgrave understand what I am telling him?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "wondered Sam. \"You said his wits were prone to wander.\"\n\n\"He has good days and bad ones,\" said Alleras, \"but it is not Walgrave you're going to see.\" He opened the door to the north tower and began to climb. Sam clambered up the steps behind him. There were flutterings and mutterings from above, and here and there an angry scream, as the ravens complained of being woken.\n\nAt the top of the steps, a pale blond youth about Sam's age sat outside a door of oak andiron, staring intently into a candle flame with his right eye. His left was hidden beneath a fall of ash blond hair. \"What are you looking for?\" Alleras asked him. \"Your destiny? Your death?\"\n\nThe blond youth turned from the candle, blinking. \"Naked women,\" he said. \"Who's this now?\"\n\n\"Samwell. Anew novice, come to seethe Mage.\"\n\n\"The Citadel is not what it was,\" complained the blond. \"They will take anything these days. Dusky dogs and Dornishmen, pig boys, cripples, cretins, and now a black-clad whale. And here I thought leviathans were grey.\" A half cape striped in green and gold draped one shoulder. He was very handsome, though his eyes were sly and his mouth cruel.\n\nSam knew him. \"Leo Tyrell.\" Saying the name made him feel as if he were still a boy of seven, about to wet his smallclothes. \"I am Sam, from Horn Hill. Lord Randyll Tarly's son.\"\n\n\"Truly?\" Leo gave him another look. \"I suppose you are. Your father told us all that you were dead. Or was it only that he wished you were?\" He grinned. \"Are you still a craven?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" lied Sam. Jon had made it a command. \"I went beyond the Wall and fought in battles. They call me Sam the Slayer.\" He did not know why he said it. The words just tumbled out.\n\nLeo laughed, but before he could reply the door behind him opened. \"Get inhere, Slayer,\" growled the man in the doorway. \"And you, Sphinx. Now.\"\n\n\"Sam,\" said Alleras, \"this is Archmaester Marwyn.\"\n\nMarwyn wore a chain of many metals around his bull's neck. Save for that, he looked more like a dockside thug than a maester. His head was too big for his body, and the way it thrust forward from his shoulders, together with that slab of jaw, made him look as if he were about to tear off someone's head. Though short and squat, he was heavy in the chest and shoulders, with around, rock-hard ale belly straining at the laces of the leather jerkin he wore in place of robes. Bristly white hair sprouted from his ears and nostrils. His brow beetled, his nose had been broken more than once, and sourleaf had stained his teeth a mottled red. He had the biggest hands that Sam had ever seen.\n\nWhen Sam hesitated, one of those hands grabbed him by the arm and yanked him through the door. The room beyond was large and round. Books and scrolls were everywhere, strewn across the tables and stacked upon the floor in piles four feet high. Faded tapestries and ragged maps covered the stonewalls. Afire was burning in the hearth, beneath a copper kettle. Whatever was inside of it smelled burned. Aside from that, the only light came from a tall black candle in the center of the room."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The candle was unpleasantly bright."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was something queer about it. The flame did not flicker, even when Archmaester Marwyn closed the door so hard that papers blew off a nearby table. The light did something strange to colors too. Whites were bright as fresh-fallen snow, yellow shone like gold, reds turned to flame, but the shadows were so black they looked like holes in the world. Sam found himself staring. The candle itself was three feet tall and slender as a sword, ridged and twisted, glittering black. \"Is that...?\"\n\n\"... obsidian,\" said the other man in the room, a pale, fleshy, pasty-faced young fellow with round shoulders, soft hands, close-set eyes, and food stains on his robes.\n\n\"Call it dragonglass.\" Archmaester Marwyn glanced at the candle fora moment. \"It burns but is not consumed.\"\n\n\"What feeds the flame?\" asked Sam.\n\n\"What feeds a dragon's fire?\" Marwyn seated himself upon a stool. \"All Valyrian sorcery was rooted in blood or fire. The sorcerers of the Freehold could see across mountains, seas, and deserts with one of these glass candles. They could enter a man's dreams and give him visions, and speak to one another half a world apart, seated before their candles. Do you think that might be useful, Slayer?\"\n\n\"We would have no more need of ravens.\"\n\n\"Only after battles.\" The archmaester peeled a sourleaf off a bale, shoved it in his mouth, and began to chew it. \"Tell me all you told our Dornish sphinx. I know much of it and more, but some small parts may have escaped my notice.\"\n\nHe was not a man to be refused. Sam hesitated a moment, then told his tale again as Marywn, Alleras, and the other novice listened. \"Maester Aemon believed that Daenerys Targaryen was the fulfillment of a prophecy... her, not Stannis, nor Prince Rhaegar, nor the princeling whose head was dashed against the wall.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star. I know the prophecy.\" Marwyn turned his head and spat a gob of red phlegm onto the floor. \"Not that I would trust it. Gorghan of Old Ghis once wrote that a prophecy is like a treacherous woman. She takes your member in her mouth, and you moan with the pleasure of it and think, how sweet, how fine, how good this is... and then her teeth snap shut and your moans turn to screams. That is the nature of prophecy, said Gorghan. Prophecy will bite your prick off every time.\" He chewed a bit. \"Still...\"\n\nAlleras stepped up next to Sam. \"Aemon would have gone to her if he had the strength. He wanted us to send a maester to her, to counsel her and protect her and fetch her safely home.\"\n\n\"Did he?\" Archmaester Marwyn shrugged. \"Perhaps it's good that he died before he got to Oldtown. Elsewise the grey sheep might have had to kill him, and that would have made the poor old dears wring their wrinkled hands.\"\n\n\"Kill him?\" Sam said, shocked. \"Why?\"\n\n\"If I tell you, they may need to kill you too.\" Marywn smiled a ghastly smile, the juice of the sourleaf running red between his teeth. \"Who do you think killed all the dragons the last time around? Gallant dragonslayers armed with swords?\" He spat. \"The world the Citadel is building has no place in it for sorcery or prophecy or glass candles, much less for dragons. Ask yourself why Aemon Targaryen was allowed to waste his life upon the Wall, when by rights he should have been raised to archmaester. His blood was why. He could not be trusted. No more than I can.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What will you do?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "asked Alleras, the Sphinx.\n\n\"Get myself to Slaver's Bay, in Aemon's place. The swan ship that delivered Slayer should serve my needs well enough. The grey sheep will send their man on a galley, I don't doubt. With fair winds I should reach her first.\" Marwyn glanced at Sam again, and frowned. \"You... you should stay and forge your chain. If I were you, I would do it quickly. A time will come when you'll be needed on the Wall.\" He turned to the pasty-faced novice. \"Find Slayer a dry cell. He'll sleep here, and help you tend the ravens.\"\n\n\"B-b-but,\" Sam sputtered, \"the other archmaesters... the Seneschal... what should I tell them?\"\n\n\"Tell them how wise and good they are. Tell them that Aemon commanded you to put yourself into their hands. Tell them that you have always dreamed that one day you might be allowed to wear the chain and serve the greater good, that service is the highest honor, and obedience the highest virtue. But say nothing of prophecies or dragons, unless you fancy poison in your porridge.\" Marwyn snatched a stained leather cloak off a peg near the door and tied it tight. \"Sphinx, look after this one.\"\n\n\"I will,\" Alleras answered, but the archmaester was already gone. They heard his boots stomping down the steps.\n\n\"Where has he gone?\" asked Sam, bewildered.\n\n\"To the docks. The Mage is not a man who believes in wasting time.\" Alleras smiled. \"I have a confession. Ours was no chance encounter, Sam. The Mage sent me to snatch you up before you spoke to Theobald. He knew that you were coming.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How?\"\n\nAlleras nodded at the glass candle.\n\nSam stared at the strange pale flame fora moment, then blinked and looked away. Outside the window it was growing dark.\n\n\"There's an empty sleeping cell undermine in the west tower, with steps that lead right up to Walgrave's chambers,\" said the pasty-faced youth. \"If you don't mind the ravens quork ing, there's a good view of the Honeywine. Will that serve?\"\n\n\"I suppose.\" He had to sleep somewhere.\n\n\"I will bring you some woolen coverlets. Stonewalls turn cold at night, even here.\"\n\n\"My thanks.\" There was something about the pale, soft youth that he misliked, but he did not want to seem discourteous, so he added, \"My name's not Slayer, truly. I'm Sam. Samwell Tarly.\"\n\n\"I'm Pate,\" the other said, \"like the pig boy.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist in storytelling and proceed with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 3"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We should start back,\" Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them.\n\n\"The wildlings are dead.\"\n\n\"Do the dead frighten you?\" Ser Waymar Royce asked with just the hint of a smile.\n\nGared did not rise to the bait. He was an old man, past fifty, and he had seen the lordlings come and go. \"Dead is dead,\" he said. \"We have no business with the dead.\"\n\n\"Are they dead?\" Royce asked softly. \"What proof have we?\"\n\n\"Will saw them,\" Gared said. \"If he says they are dead, that's proof enough for me.\"\n\nWill had known they would drag him into the quarrel sooner or later. He wished it had been later rather than sooner. \"My mother told me that dead men sing no songs,\" he put in.\n\n\"My wet nurse said the same thing, Will,\" Royce replied. \"Never believe anything you hear at a woman's tit. There are things to be learned even from the dead.\" His voice echoed, too loud in the twilit forest.\n\n\"We have along ride before us,\" Gared pointed out. \"Eight days, maybe nine. And night is falling.\"\n\nSer Waymar Royce glanced at the sky with disinterest. \"It does that everyday about this time. Are you unmanned by the dark, Gared?\"\n\nWill could seethe tightness around Gared's mouth, the barely suppressed anger in his eyes under the thick black hood of his cloak. Gared had spent forty years in the Night's Watch, man and boy, and he was not accustomed to being made light of. Yet it was more than that. Under the wounded pride, Will could sense something else in the older man. You could taste it; a nervous tension that came perilous close to fear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Will shared his unease. He had been four years on the Wall. The first time he had been sent beyond, all the old stories had come rushing back, and his bowels had turned to water. He had laughed about it afterward. He was a veteran of a hundred rangings by now, and the endless dark wilderness that the southron called the haunted forest had no more terrors for him.\n\nUntil tonight. Something was different tonight. There was an edge to this darkness that made his hackles rise. Nine days they had been riding, north and northwest and then north again, farther and farther from the Wall, hard on the track of a band of Wildling raiders. Each day had been worse than the day that had come before it. Today was the worst of all. A cold wind was blowing out of the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things. All day, Will had felt as though something were watching him, something cold and implacable that loved him not. Gared had felt it too. Will wanted nothing so much as to ride hellbent for the safety of the Wall, but that was not a feeling to share with your commander.\n\nEspecially not a commander like this one.\n\nSer Waymar Royce was the youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife. Mounted on his huge black destrier, the knight towered above Will and Gared on their smaller garrons. He wore black leather boots, black woolen pants, black moleskin gloves, and a fine supple coat of gleaming black ringmail over layers of black wool and boiled leather. Ser Waymar had been a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch for less than half a year, but no one could say he had not prepared for his vocation. At least insofar as his wardrobe was concerned."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin. \"Bethe killed them all himself, he did,\" Gared told the barracks over wine, \"twisted their little heads off, our mighty warrior.\" They had all shared the laugh.\n\nIt is hard to take orders from a man you laughed at in your cups, Will reflected as he sat shivering atop his garron. Gared must have felt the same.\n\n\"Mormont said as we should track them, and we did,\" Gared said. \"They're dead. They shan't trouble us no more. There's hard riding before us. I don't like this weather. If it snows, we could be a fortnight getting back, and snow's the best we can hope for. Ever seen an ice storm, my lord?\"\n\nThe lordling seemed not to hear him. He studied the deepening twilight in that half-bored, half-distracted way he had. Will had ridden with the knight long enough to understand that it was best not to interrupt him when he looked like that. \"Tell me again what you saw, Will. All the details. Leave nothing out.\"\n\nWill had been a hunter before he joined the Night's Watch. Well, a poacher in truth. Mallister freeriders had caught him red-handed in the Mallisters\" own woods, skinning one of the Mallisters' own bucks, and it had been a choice of putting on the black or losing a hand. No one could move through the woods as silent as Will, and it had not taken the black brothers long to discover his talent.\n\n\"The camp is two miles farther on, over that ridge, hard beside a stream,\" Will said. \"I got close as I dared. There's eight of them, men and women both. No children I could see. They put up a lean-to against the rock. The snow's pretty well covered it now, but I could still make it out. No fire burning, but the firepit was still plain as day. No one moving. I watched along time. No living man ever lay so still.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did you see any blood?\"\n\n\"Well, no,\" Will admitted.\n\n\"Did you see any weapons?\"\n\n\"Some swords, a few bows. One man had an axe. Heavy-looking, double-bladed, a cruel piece of iron. It was on the ground beside him, right by his hand.\"\n\n\"Did you make note of the position of the bodies?\"\n\nWill shrugged. \"A couple are sitting up against the rock. Most of them on the ground. Fallen, like.\"\n\n\"Or sleeping,\" Royce suggested.\n\n\"Fallen,\" Will insisted. \"There's one woman up an ironwood, half-hid in the branches. Afar-eyes.\" He smiled thinly. \"I took care she never saw me. When I got closer, I saw that she wasn't moving neither.\" Despite himself, he shivered.\n\n\"You have a chill?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"Some,\" Will muttered. \"The wind, m'lord.\"\n\nThe young knight turned back to his grizzled man-at-arms. Frost-fallen leaves whispered past them, and Royce's destrier moved restlessly. \"What do you think might have killed these men, Gared?\" Ser Waymar asked casually. He adjusted the drape of his long sable cloak.\n\n\"It was the cold,\" Gared said with iron certainty. \"I saw men freeze last winter, and the one before, when I was half a boy. Everyone talks about snows forty foot deep, and how the ice wind comes howling out of the north, but the real enemy is the cold. It steals upon you quieter than Will, and at first you shiver and your teeth chatter and you stamp your feet and dream of mulled wine and nice hot fires. It burns, it does. Nothing burns like the cold. But only fora while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after awhile you don't have the strength to fight it. It's easier just to sit down or go to sleep. They say you don't feel any pain toward the end. First you go weak and drowsy, and everything starts to fade, and then it's like sinking into a sea of warm milk. Peaceful, like.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Such eloquence, Gared,\" Ser Waymar observed. \"I never suspected you had it in you.\"\n\n\"I've had the cold in me too, lordling.\" Gared pulled back his hood, giving Ser Waymar a good long look at the stumps where his ears had been. \"Two ears, three toes, and the little finger off my left hand. I got off light. We found my brother frozen at his watch, with a smile on his face.\"\n\nSer Waymar shrugged. \"You ought dress more warmly, Gared.\"\n\nGared glared at the lordling, the scars around his ear holes flushed red with anger where Maester Aemon had cut the ears away. \"We'll see how warm you can dress when the winter comes.\" He pulled up his hood and hunched over his garron, silent and sullen.\n\n\"If Gared said it was the cold...\" Will began.\n\n\"Have you drawn any watches this past week, Will?\"\n\n\"Yes, m'lord.\" There never was a week when he did not draw a dozen bloody watches. What was the man driving at?\n\n\"And how did you find the Wall?\"\n\n\"Weeping,\" Will said, frowning. He saw it clear enough, now that the lordling had pointed it out. \"They couldn't have froze. Not if the Wall was weeping. It wasn't cold enough.\"\n\nRoyce nodded. \"Bright lad. We've had a few light frosts this past week, and a quick flurry of snow now and then, but surely no cold fierce enough to kill eight grown men. Men clad in fur and leather, let me remind you, with shelter near at hand, and the means of making fire.\" The knight's smile was cocksure. \"Will, lead us there. I would see these dead men for myself.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "And then there was nothing to be done for it. The order had been given, and honor bound them to obey.\n\nWill went in front, his shaggy little garron picking the way carefully through the undergrowth. Alight snow had fallen the night before, and there were stones and roots and hidden sinks lying just under its crust, waiting for the careless and the unwary. Ser Waymar Royce came next, his great black destrier snorting impatiently. The warhorse was the wrong mount for ranging, but try and tell that to the lordling. Gared brought up the rear. The old man-at-arms muttered to himself as he rode.\n\nTwilight deepened. The cloudless sky turned a deep purple, the color of an old bruise, then faded to black. The stars began to come out. A half-moon rose. Will was grateful for the light.\n\n\"We can make a better pace than this, surely,\" Royce said when the moon was full risen.\n\n\"Not with this horse,\" Will said. Fear had made him insolent. \"Perhaps my lord would care to take the lead?\"\n\nSer Waymar Royce did not deign to reply.\n\nSomewhere off in the wood a wolf howled.\n\nWill pulled his garron over beneath an ancient gnarled ironwood and dismounted.\n\n\"Why are you stopping?\" Ser Waymar asked.\n\n\"Best go the rest of the way on foot, m'lord. It's just over that ridge.\"\n\nRoyce paused a moment, staring off into the distance, his face reflective. A cold wind whispered through the trees. His great sable cloak stirred behind like something half-alive.\n\n\"There's something wrong here,\" Gared muttered.\n\nThe young knight gave him a disdainful smile. \"Is there?\""
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"value": "\"Can't you feel it?\" Gared asked. \"Listen to the darkness.\"\n\nWill could feel it. Four years in the Night's Watch, and he had never been so afraid. What was it?\n\n\"Wind. Trees rustling. A wolf. Which sound is it that unmans you so, Gared?\" When Gared did not answer, Royce slid gracefully from his saddle. He tied the destrier securely to a low-hanging limb, well away from the other horses, and drew his longsword from its sheath. Jewels glittered in its hilt, and the moonlight ran down the shining steel. It was a splendid weapon, castle-forged, and new-made from the look of it. Will doubted it had ever been swung in anger.\n\n\"The trees press close here,\" Will warned. \"That sword will tangle you up, m'lord. Better a knife.\"\n\n\"If I need instruction, I will ask for it,\" the young lord said. \"Gared, stay here. Guard the horses.\"\n\nGared dismounted. \"We need afire. I'll see to it.\"\n\n\"How big a fool are you, old man? If there are enemies in this wood, afire is the last thing we want.\"\n\n\"There's some enemies afire will keep away,\" Gared said. \"Bears and direwolves and... and other things...\"\n\nSer Waymar's mouth became a hard line. \"No fire.\"\n\nGared's hood shadowed his face, but Will could seethe hard glitter in his eyes as he stared at the knight. Fora moment he was afraid the older man would go for his sword. It was a short, ugly thing, its grip discolored by sweat, its edge nicked from hard use, but Will would not have given an iron bob for the lordling's life if Gared pulled it from its scabbard."
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"value": "Finally Gared looked down. \"No fire,\" he muttered, low under his breath.\n\nRoyce took it for acquiescence and turned away. \"Lead on,\" he said to Will.\n\nWill threaded their way through a thicket, then started up the slope to the low ridge where he had found his vantage point under a sentinel tree. Under the thin crust of snow, the ground was damp and muddy, slick footing, with rocks and hidden roots to trip you up. Will made no sound as he climbed. Behind him, he heard the soft metallic slither of the lordling's ringmail, the rustle of leaves, and muttered curses as reaching branches grabbed at his longsword and tugged on his splendid sable cloak.\n\nThe great sentinel was right thereat the top of the ridge, where Will had known it would be, its lowest branches a barefoot off the ground. Will slid in underneath, flat on his belly in the snow and the mud, and looked down on the empty clearing below.\n\nHis heart stopped in his chest. Fora moment he dared not breathe. Moonlight shone down on the clearing, the ashes of the firepit, the snow-covered lean-to, the great rock, the little half-frozen stream. Everything was just as it had been a few hours ago.\n\nThey were gone. All the bodies were gone.\n\n\"Gods!\" he heard behind him. A sword slashed at a branch as Ser Waymar Royce gained the ridge. He stood there beside the sentinel, longsword in hand, his cloak billowing behind him as the wind came up, outlined nobly against the stars for all to see.\n\n\"Get down!\" Will whispered urgently. \"Something's wrong.\"\n\nRoyce did not move. He looked down at the empty clearing and laughed. \"Your dead men seem to have moved camp, Will.\""
},
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"value": "Will's voice abandoned him. He groped for words that did not come. It was not possible. His eyes sweptback and forth over the abandoned campsite, stopped on the axe. A huge double-bladed battle-axe, still lying where he had seen it last, untouched. A valuable weapon...\n\n\"On your feet, Will,\" Ser Waymar commanded. \"There's no one here. I won't have you hiding under a bush.\"\n\nReluctantly, Will obeyed.\n\nSer Waymar looked him over with open disapproval. \"I am not going back to Castle Black a failure on my first ranging. We will find these men.\" He glanced around. \"Up the tree. Be quick about it. Look fora fire.\"\n\nWill turned away, wordless. There was no use to argue. The wind was moving. It cut right through him. He went to the tree, a vaulting grey-green sentinel, and began to climb. Soon his hands were sticky with sap, and he was lost among the needles. Fear filled his gut like a meal he could not digest. He whispered a prayer to the nameless gods of the wood, and slipped his dirk free of its sheath. He put it between his teeth to keep both hands free for climbing. The taste of cold iron in his mouth gave him comfort.\n\nDown below, the lordling called out suddenly, \"Who goes there?\" Will heard uncertainty in the challenge. He stopped climbing; he listened; he watched.\n\nThe woods gave answer: the rustle of leaves, the icy rush of the stream, a distant hoot of a snow owl.\n\nThe Others made no sound.\n\nWill saw movement from the corner of his eye. Pale shapes gliding through the wood. He turned his head, glimpsed a white shadow in the darkness. Then it was gone. Branches stirred gently in the wind, scratching atone another with wooden fingers. Will opened his mouth to call down a warning, and the words seemed to freeze in his throat. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps it had only been a bird, a reflection on the snow, some trick of the moonlight. What had he seen, after all?"
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"value": "\"Will, where are you?\" Ser Waymar called up. \"Can you see anything?\" He was turning in a slow circle, suddenly wary, his sword in hand. He must have felt them, as Will felt them. There was nothing to see. \"Answer me! Why is it so cold?\"\n\nIt was cold. Shivering, Will clung more tightly to his perch. His face pressed hard against the trunk of the sentinel. He could feel the sweet, sticky sap on his cheek.\n\nA shadow emerged from the dark of the wood. It stood in front of Royce. Tall, it was, and gaunt and hard as old bones, with flesh pale as milk. Its armor seemed to change color as it moved; here it was white as new-fallen snow, there black as shadow, everywhere dappled with the deep grey-green of the trees. The patterns ran like moonlight on water with every step it took.\n\nWill heard the breath go out of Ser Waymar Royce in along hiss. \"Come no farther,\" the lordling warned. His voice cracked like a boy's. He threw the long sable cloak back over his shoulders, to free his arms for battle, and took his sword in both hands. The wind had stopped. It was very cold.\n\nThe Other slid forward on silent feet. In its hand was a longsword like none that Will had ever seen. No human metal had gone into the forging of that blade. It was alive with moonlight, translucent, a shard of crystal so thin that it seemed almost to vanish when seen edge-on. There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing, a ghost-light that played around its edges, and somehow Will knew it was sharper than any razor.\n\nSer Waymar met him bravely. \"Dance with me then.\" He lifted his sword high over his head, defiant. His hands trembled from the weight of it, or perhaps from the cold. Yet in that moment, Will thought, he was a boy no longer, but a man of the Night's Watch."
},
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"value": "The Other halted. Will saw its eyes; blue, deeper and bluer than any human eyes, a blue that burned like ice. They fixed on the longsword trembling on high, watched the moonlight running cold along the metal. Fora heartbeat he dared to hope.\n\nThey emerged silently from the shadows, twins to the first. Three of them... four... five... Ser Waymar may have felt the cold that came with them, but he never saw them, never heard them. Will had to call out. It was his duty. And his death, if he did. He shivered, and hugged the tree, and kept the silence.\n\nThe pale sword came shivering through the air.\n\nSer Waymar met it with steel. When the blades met, there was no ring of metal on metal; only a high, thin sound at the edge of hearing, like an animal screaming in pain. Royce checked a second blow, and a third, then fell back a step. Another flurry of blows, and he fell back again.\n\nBehind him, to right, to left, all around him, the watchers stood patient, faceless, silent, the shifting patterns of their delicate armor making them all but invisible in the wood. Yet they made no move to interfere.\n\nAgain and again the swords met, until Will wanted to cover his ears against the strange anguished keening of their clash. Ser Waymar was panting from the effort now, his breath steaming in the moonlight. His blade was white with frost; the Other's danced with pale blue light.\n\nThen Royce's parry came a beat too late. The pale sword bit through the ringmail beneath his arm. The young lord cried out in pain. Blood welled between the rings. It steamed in the cold, and the droplets seemed red as fire where they touched the snow. Ser Waymar's fingers brushed his side. His moleskin glove came away soaked with red."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Other said something in a language that Will did not know; his voice was like the cracking of ice on a winter lake, and the words were mocking.\n\nSer Waymar Royce found his fury. \"For Robert!\" he shouted, and he came up snarling, lifting the frost-covered longsword with both hands and swinging it around in a flat sidearm slash with all his weight behind it. The Other's parry was almost lazy.\n\nWhen the blades touched, the steel shattered.\n\nA scream echoed through the forest night, and the longsword shivered into a hundred brittle pieces, the shards scattering like a rain of needles. Royce went to his knees, shrieking, and covered his eyes. Blood welled between his fingers.\n\nThe watchers moved forward together, as if some signal had been given. Swords rose and fell, all in a deathly silence. It was cold butchery. The pale blades sliced through ringmail as if it were silk. Will closed his eyes. Far beneath him, he heard their voices and laughter sharp as icicles.\n\nWhen he found the courage to look again, along time had passed, and the ridge below was empty.\n\nHe stayed in the tree, scarce daring to breathe, while the moon crept slowly across the black sky. Finally, his muscles cramping and his fingers numb with cold, he climbed down.\n\nRoyce's body lay facedown in the snow, one arm outflung. The thick sable cloak had been slashed in a dozen places. Lying dead like that, you saw how young he was. A boy.\n\nHe found what was left of the sword a few feet away, the end splintered and twisted like a tree struck by lightning. Will knelt, looked around warily, and snatched it up. The broken sword would be his proof. Gared would know what to make of it, and if not him, then surely that old bear Mormont or Maester Aemon. Would Gared still be waiting with the horses? He had to hurry."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "Will rose. Ser Waymar Royce stood over him.\n\nHis fine clothes were a tatter, his face a ruin. A shard from his sword transfixed the blind white pupil of his left eye.\n\nThe right eye was open. The pupil burned blue. It saw.\n\nThe broken sword fell from nerveless fingers. Will closed his eyes to pray. Long, elegant hands brushed his cheek, then tightened around his throat. They were gloved in the finest moleskin and sticky with blood, yet the touch was icy cold."
},
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"value": "The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer. They set forth at daybreak to see a man beheaded, twenty in all, and Bran rode among them, nervous with excitement. This was the first time he had been deemed old enough to go with his lord father and his brothers to seethe king's justice done. It was the ninth year of summer, and the seventh of Bran's life.\n\nThe man had been taken outside a small holdfast in the hills. Robb thought he was a wildling, his sword sworn to Mance Rayder, the King-beyond-the-Wall. It made Bran's skin prickle to think of it. He remembered the hearth tales Old Nan told them. The wildlings were cruel men, she said, slavers and slayers and thieves. They consorted with giants and ghouls, stole girl children in the dead of night, and drank blood from polished horns. And their women lay with the Others in the Long Night to sire terrible half-human children.\n\nBut the man they found bound hand and foot to the holdfast wall awaiting the king's justice was old and scrawny, not much taller than Robb. He had lost both ears and a finger to frostbite, and he dressed all in black, the same as a brother of the Night's Watch, except that his furs were ragged and greasy.\n\nThe breath of man and horse mingled, steaming, in the cold morning air as his lord father had the man cut down from the wall and dragged before them. Robb and Jon sat tall and still on their horses, with Bran between them on his pony, trying to seem older than seven, trying to pretend that he'd seen all this before. A faint wind blew through the holdfast gate. Over their heads flapped the banner of the Starks of Winterfell: a grey direwolf racing across an ice-white field."
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"value": "Bran's father sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair stirring in the wind. His closely trimmed beard was shot with white, making him look older than his thirty-five years. He had a grim cast to his grey eyes this day, and he seemed not at all the man who would sit before the fire in the evening and talk softly of the age of heroes and the children of the forest. He had taken off Father's face, Bran thought, and donned the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell.\n\nThere were questions asked and answers given therein the chill of morning, but afterward Bran could not recall much of what had been said. Finally his lord father gave a command, and two of his guardsmen dragged the ragged man to the ironwood stump in the center of the square. They forced his head down onto the hard black wood. Lord Eddard Stark dismounted and his ward Theon Greyjoy brought forth the sword. \"Ice,\" that sword was called. It was as wide across as a man's hand, and taller even than Robb. The blade was Valyrian steel, spell-forged and dark as smoke. Nothing held an edge like Valyrian steel.\n\nHis father peeled off his gloves and handed them to Jory Cassel, the captain of his household guard. He took hold of Ice with both hands and said, \"In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die.\" He lifted the greatsword high above his head.\n\nBran's bastard brother Jon Snow moved closer. \"Keep the pony well in hand,\" he whispered. \"And don't look away. Father will know if you do.\""
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"value": "Bran kept his pony well in hand, and did not look away.\n\nHis father took off the man's head with a single sure stroke. Blood sprayed out across the snow, as red as summerwine. One of the horses reared and had to be restrained to keep from bolting. Bran could not take his eyes off the blood. The snows around the stump drank it eagerly, reddening as he watched.\n\nThe head bounced off a thick root and rolled. It came up near Greyjoy's feet. Theon was a lean, dark youth of nineteen who found everything amusing. He laughed, put his boot on the head, and kicked it away.\n\n\"Ass,\" Jon muttered, low enough so Greyjoy did not hear. He put a hand on Bran's shoulder, and Bran looked over at his bastard brother. \"You did well,\" Jon told him solemnly. Jon was fourteen, an old hand at justice.\n\nIt seemed colder on the long ride back to Winterfell, though the wind had died by then and the sun was higher in the sky. Bran rode with his brothers, well ahead of the main party, his pony struggling hard to keep up with their horses.\n\n\"The deserter died bravely,\" Robb said. He was big and broad and growing everyday, with his mother's coloring, the fair skin, red-brown hair, and blue eyes of the Tullys of Riverrun. \"He had courage, at the least.\"\n\n\"No,\" Jon Snow said quietly. \"It was not courage. This one was dead of fear. You could see it in his eyes, Stark.\" Jon's eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not lookalike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast."
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"value": "Robb was not impressed. \"The Others take his eyes,\" he swore. \"He died well. Race you to the bridge?\"\n\n\"Done,\" Jon said, kicking his horse forward. Robb cursed and followed, and they galloped off down the trail, Robb laughing and hooting, Jon silent and intent. The hooves of their horses kicked up showers of snow as they went.\n\nBran did not try to follow. His pony could not keep up. He had seen the ragged man's eyes, and he was thinking of them now. After awhile, the sound of Robb's laughter receded, and the woods grew silent again.\n\nSo deep in thought was he that he never heard the rest of the party until his father moved up to ride beside him. \"Are you well, Bran?\" he asked, not unkindly.\n\n\"Yes, Father,\" Bran told him. He looked up. Wrapped in his furs and leathers, mounted on his great warhorse, his lord father loomed over him like a giant. \"Robb says the man died bravely, but Jon says he was afraid.\"\n\n\"What do you think?\" his father asked.\n\nBran thought about it. \"Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?\"\n\n\"That is the only time a man can be brave,\" his father told him. \"Do you understand why I did it?\"\n\n\"He was a wildling,\" Bran said. \"They carry off women and sell them to the Others.\"\n\nHis lord father smiled. \"Old Nan has been telling you stories again. In truth, the man was an oathbreaker, a deserter from the Night's Watch. No man is more dangerous. The deserter knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile. But you mistake me. The question was not why the man had to die, but why I must do it.\""
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"value": "Bran had no answer for that. \"King Robert has a headsman,\" he said, uncertainly.\n\n\"He does,\" his father admitted. \" As did the Targaryen kings before him. Yet our way is the older way. The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.\n\n\"One day, Bran, you will be Robb's bannerman, holding a keep of your own for your brother and your king, and justice will fall to you. When that day comes, you must take no pleasure in the task, but neither must you look away. A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is.\"\n\nThat was when Jon reappeared on the crest of the hill before them. He waved and shouted down at them. \"Father, Bran, come quickly, see what Robb has found!\" Then he was gone again.\n\nJory rode up beside them. \"Trouble, my lord?\"\n\n\"Beyond a doubt,\" his lord father said. \"Come, let us see what mischief my sons have rooted out now.\" He sent his horse into a trot. Jory and Bran and the rest came after.\n\nThey found Robb on the riverbank north of the bridge, with Jon still mounted beside him. The late summer snows had been heavy this moonturn. Robb stood knee-deep in white, his hood pulled back so the sun shone in his hair. He was cradling something in his arm, while the boys talked in hushed, excited voices."
},
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"value": "The riders picked their way carefully through the drifts, groping for solid footing on the hidden, uneven ground. Jory Cassel and Theon Greyjoy were the first to reach the boys. Greyjoy was laughing and joking as he rode. Bran heard the breath go out of him. \"Gods!\" he exclaimed, struggling to keep control of his horse as he reached for his sword.\n\nJory's sword was already out. \"Robb, getaway from it!\" he called as his horse reared under him.\n\nRobb grinned and looked up from the bundle in his arms. \"She can't hurt you,\" he said. \"She's dead, Jory.\"\n\nBran was afire with curiosity by then. He would have spurred the pony faster, but his father made them dismount beside the bridge and approach on foot. Bran jumped off and ran.\n\nBy then Jon, Jory, and Theon Greyjoy had all dismounted as well. \"What in the seven hells is it?\" Greyjoy was saying.\n\n\"A wolf,\" Robb told him.\n\n\"A freak,\" Greyjoy said. \"Look at the size of it.\"\n\nBran's heart was thumping in his chest as he pushed through a waist-high drift to his brothers\" side.\n\nHalf-buried in bloodstained snow, a huge dark shape slumped in death. Ice had formed in its shaggy grey fur, and the faint smell of corruption clung to it like a woman's perfume. Bran glimpsed blind eyes crawling with maggots, a wide mouth full of yellowed teeth. But it was the size of it that made him gasp. It was bigger than his pony, twice the size of the largest hound in his father's kennel."
},
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"value": "\"It's no freak,\" Jon said calmly. \"That's a direwolf. They grow larger than the other kind.\"\n\nTheon Greyjoy said, \"There's not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years.\"\n\n\"I see one now,\" Jon replied.\n\nBran tore his eyes away from the monster. That was when he noticed the bundle in Robb's arms. He gave a cry of delight and moved closer. The pup was a tiny ball of grey-black fur, its eyes still closed. It nuzzled blindly against Robb's chest as he cradled it, searching for milk among his leathers, making a sad little whimpery sound. Bran reached out hesitantly. \"Goon,\" Robb told him. \"You can touch him.\"\n\nBran gave the pupa quick nervous stroke, then turned as Jon said, \"Here you go.\" His half brother put a second pup into his arms. \"There are five of them.\" Bran sat down in the snow and hugged the wolf pup to his face. Its fur was soft and warm against his cheek.\n\n\"Direwolves loose in the realm, after so many years,\" muttered Hullen, the master of horse. \"I like it not.\"\n\n\"It is a sign,\" Jory said.\n\nFather frowned. \"This is only a dead animal, Jory,\" he said. Yet he seemed troubled. Snow crunched under his boots as he moved around the body. \"Do we know what killed her?\"\n\n\"There's something in the throat,\" Robb told him, proud to have found the answer before his father even asked. \"There, just under the jaw.\"\n\nHis father knelt and groped under the beast's head with his hand. He gave a yank and held it up for all to see. Afoot of shattered antler, tines snapped off, all wet with blood."
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A sudden silence descended over the party. The men looked at the antler uneasily, and no one dared to speak. Even Bran could sense their fear, though he did not understand.\n\nHis father tossed the antler to the side and cleansed his hands in the snow. \"I'm surprised she lived long enough to whelp,\" he said. His voice broke the spell.\n\n\"Maybe she didn't,\" Jory said. \"I've heard tales... maybe the bitch was already dead when the pups came.\"\n\n\"Born with the dead,\" another man put in. \"Worse luck.\"\n\n\"No matter,\" said Hullen. \"They be dead soon enough too.\"\n\nBran gave a wordless cry of dismay.\n\n\"The sooner the better,\" Theon Greyjoy agreed. He drew his sword. \"Give the beast here, Bran.\"\n\nThe little thing squirmed against him, as if it heard and understood. \"No!\" Bran cried out fiercely. \"It's mine.\"\n\n\"Put away your sword, Greyjoy,\" Robb said. Fora moment he sounded as commanding as their father, like the lord he would someday be. \"We will keep these pups.\"\n\n\"You cannot do that, boy,\" said Harwin, who was Hullen's son.\n\n\"It be a mercy to kill them,\" Hullen said.\n\nBran looked to his lord father for rescue, but got only a frown, a furrowed brow. \"Hullen speaks truly, son. Better a swift death than a hard one from cold and starvation.\"\n\n\"No!\" He could feel tears welling in his eyes, and he looked away. He did not want to cry in front of his father.\n\nRobb resisted stubbornly. \"Ser Rodrik's red bitch whelped again last week,\" he said. \"It was a small litter, only two live pups. She'll have milk enough.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She'll rip them apart when they try to nurse.\"\n\n\"Lord Stark,\" Jon said. It was strange to hear him call Father that, so formal. Bran looked at him with desperate hope. \"There are five pups,\" he told Father. \"Three male, two female.\"\n\n\"What of it, Jon?\"\n\n\"You have five trueborn children,\" Jon said. \"Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord.\"\n\nBran saw his father's face change, saw the other men exchange glances. He loved Jon with all his heart at that moment. Even at seven, Bran understood what his brother had done. The count had come right only because Jon had omitted himself. He had included the girls, included even Rickon, the baby, but not the bastard who bore the surname Snow, the name that custom decreed be given to all those in the north unlucky enough to be born with no name of their own.\n\nTheir father understood as well. \"You want no pup for yourself, Jon?\" he asked softly.\n\n\"The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark,\" Jon pointed out. \"I am no Stark, Father.\"\n\nTheir lord father regarded Jon thoughtfully. Robb rushed into the silence he left. \"I will nurse him myself, Father,\" he promised. \"I will soak a towel with warm milk, and give him suck from that.\"\n\n\"Me too!\" Bran echoed.\n\nThe lord weighed his sons long and carefully with his eyes. \"Easy to say, and harder to do. I will not have you wasting the servants' time with this. If you want these pups, you will feed them yourselves. Is that understood?\""
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"value": "Bran nodded eagerly. The pup squirmed in his grasp, licked at his face with a warm tongue.\n\n\"You must train them as well,\" their father said. \"You must train them. The kennelmaster will have nothing to do with these monsters, I promise you that. And the gods help you if you neglect them, or brutalize them, or train them badly. These are not dogs to beg for treats and slink off at a kick. A direwolf will rip a man's arm off his shoulder as easily as a dog will kill a rat. Are you sure you want this?\"\n\n\"Yes, Father,\" Bran said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Robb agreed.\n\n\"The pups may die anyway, despite all you do.\"\n\n\"They won't die,\" Robb said. \"We won't let them die.\"\n\n\"Keep them, then. Jory, Desmond, gather up the other pups. It's time we were back to Winterfell.\"\n\nIt was not until they were mounted and on their way that Bran allowed himself to taste the sweet air of victory. By then, his pup was snuggled inside his leathers, warm against him, safe for the long ride home. Bran was wondering what to name him.\n\nHalfway across the bridge, Jon pulled up suddenly.\n\n\"What is it, Jon?\" their lord father asked.\n\n\"Can't you hear it?\"\n\nBran could hear the wind in the trees, the clatter of their hooves on the ironwood planks, the whimpering of his hungry pup, but Jon was listening to something else.\n\n\"There,\" Jon said. He swung his horse around and galloped back across the bridge. They watched him dismount where the direwolf lay dead in the snow, watched him kneel. A moment later he was riding back to them, smiling."
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He must have crawled away from the others,\" Jon said.\n\n\"Or been driven away,\" their father said, looking at the sixth pup. His fur was white, where the rest of the litter was grey. His eyes were as red as the blood of the ragged man who had died that morning. Bran thought it curious that this pup alone would have opened his eyes while the others were still blind.\n\n\"An albino,\" Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement. \"This one will die even faster than the others.\"\n\nJon Snow gave his father's ward along, chilling look. \"I think not, Greyjoy,\" he said. \"This one belongs tome.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn had never liked this godswood.\n\nShe had been born a Tully, at Riverrun far to the south, on the Red Fork of the Trident. The godswood there was a garden, bright and airy, where tall redwoods spread dappled shadows across tinkling streams, birds sang from hidden nests, and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers.\n\nThe gods of Winterfell kept a different sort of wood. It was a dark, primal place, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years as the gloomy castle rose around it. It smelled of moist earth and decay. No redwoods grew here. This was a wood of stubborn sentinel trees armored in grey-green needles, of mighty oaks, of ironwoods as old as the realm itself. Here thick black trunks crowded close together while twisted branches wove a dense canopy overhead and misshapen roots wrestled beneath the soil. This was a place of deep silence and brooding shadows, and the gods who lived here had no names.\n\nBut she knew she would find her husband here tonight. Whenever he took a man's life, afterward he would seek the quiet of the godswood.\n\nCatelyn had been anointed with the seven oils and named in the rainbow of light that filled the sept of Riverrun. She was of the Faith, like her father and grandfather and his father before him. Her gods had names, and their faces were as familiar as the faces of her parents. Worship was a septon with a censer, the smell of incense, a seven-sided crystal alive with light, voices raised in song. The Tullys kept a godswood, as all the great houses did, but it was only a place to walk or read or lie in the sun. Worship was for the sept."
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "For her sake, Ned had built a small sept where she might sing to the seven faces of god, but the blood of the First Men still flowed in the veins of the Starks, and his own gods were the old ones, the nameless, faceless gods of the greenwood they shared with the vanished children of the forest.\n\nAt the center of the grove an ancient weirwood brooded over a small pool where the waters were black and cold. \"The heart tree,\" Ned called it. The weirwood's bark was white as bone, its leaves dark red, like a thousand bloodstained hands. A face had been carved in the trunk of the great tree, its features long and melancholy, the deep-cut eyes red with dried sap and strangely watchful. They were old, those eyes; older than Winterfell itself. They had seen Brandon the Builder set the first stone, if the tales were true; they had watched the castle's granite walls rise around them. It was said that the children of the forest had carved the faces in the trees during the dawn centuries before the coming of the First Men across the narrow sea.\n\nIn the south the last weirwoods had been cut down or burned out a thousand years ago, except on the Isle of Faces where the green men kept their silent watch. Up here it was different. Here every castle had its godswood, and every godswood had its heart tree, and every heart tree its face.\n\nCatelyn found her husband beneath the weirwood, seated on a moss-covered stone. The greatsword Ice was across his lap, and he was cleaning the blade in those waters black as night. A thousand years of humus lay thick upon the godswood floor, swallowing the sound of her feet, but the red eyes of the weirwood seemed to follow her as she came. \"Ned,\" she called softly."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He lifted his head to look at her. \"Catelyn,\" he said. His voice was distant and formal. \"Where are the children?\"\n\nHe would always ask her that. \"In the kitchen, arguing about names for the wolf pups.\" She spread her cloak on the forest floor and sat beside the pool, her back to the weirwood. She could feel the eyes watching her, but she did her best to ignore them. \"Arya is already in love, and Sansa is charmed and gracious, but Rickon is not quite sure.\"\n\n\"Is he afraid?\" Ned asked.\n\n\"A little,\" she admitted. \"He is only three.\"\n\nNed frowned. \"He must learn to face his fears. He will not be three forever. And winter is coming.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Catelyn agreed. The words gave her a chill, as they always did. The Stark words. Every noble house had its words. Family mottoes, touchstones, prayers of sorts, they boasted of honor and glory, promised loyalty and truth, swore faith and courage. All but the Starks. Winter is coming, said the Stark words. Not for the first time, she reflected on what a strange people these northerners were.\n\n\"The man died well, I'll give him that,\" Ned said. He had a swatch of oiled leather in one hand. He ran it lightly up the greatsword as he spoke, polishing the metal to a dark glow. \"I was glad for Bran's sake. You would have been proud of Bran.\"\n\n\"I am always proud of Bran,\" Catelyn replied, watching the sword as he stroked it. She could seethe rippling deep within the steel, where the metal had been folded back on itself a hundred times in the forging. Catelyn had no love for swords, but she could not deny that Ice had its own beauty. It had been forged in Valyria, before the Doom had come to the old Freehold, when the ironsmiths had worked their metal with spells as well as hammers. Four hundred years old it was, and as sharp as the day it was forged. The name it bore was older still, a legacy from the age of heroes, when the Starks were Kings in the North."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He was the fourth this year,\" Ned said grimly. \"The poor man was half-mad. Something had put a fear in him so deep that my words could not reach him.\" He sighed. \"Ben writes that the strength of the Night's Watch is down below a thousand. It's not only desertions. They are losing men on rangings as well.\"\n\n\"Is it the wildlings?\" she asked.\n\n\"Who else?\" Ned lifted Ice, looked down the cool steel length of it. \"And it will only grow worse. The day may come when I will have no choice but to call the banners and ride north to deal with this King-beyond-the-Wall for good and all.\"\n\n\"Beyond the Wall?\" The thought made Catelyn shudder.\n\nNed saw the dread on her face. \"Mance Rayder is nothing for us to fear.\"\n\n\"There are darker things beyond the Wall.\" She glanced behind her at the heart tree, the pale bark and red eyes, watching, listening, thinking its long slow thoughts.\n\nHis smile was gentle. \"You listen to too many of Old Nan's stories. The Others areas dead as the children of the forest, gone eight thousand years. Maester Luwin will tell you they never lived at all. No living man has ever seen one.\"\n\n\"Until this morning, no living man had ever seen a direwolf either,\" Catelyn reminded him.\n\n\"I ought to know better than to argue with a Tully,\" he said with a rueful smile. He slid Ice back into its sheath. \"You did not come hereto tell me crib tales. I know how little you like this place. What is it, my lady?\"\n\nCatelyn took her husband's hand. \"There was grievous news today, my lord. I did not wish to trouble you until you had cleansed yourself.\" There was noway to soften the blow, so she told him straight. \"I am so sorry, my love. Jon Arryn is dead.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "His eyes found hers, and she could see how hard it took him, as she had known it would. In his youth, Ned had fostered at the Eyrie, and the childless Lord Arryn had become a second father to him and his fellow ward, Robert Baratheon. When the Mad King Aerys II Targaryen had demanded their heads, the Lord of the Eyrie had raised his moon-and-falcon banners in revolt rather than give up those he had pledged to protect.\n\nAnd one day fifteen years ago, this second father had become a brother as well, as he and Ned stood together in the sept at Riverrun towed two sisters, the daughters of Lord Hoster Tully.\n\n\"Jon...\" he said. \"Is this news certain?\"\n\n\"It was the king's seal, and the letter is in Robert's own hand. I saved it for you. He said Lord Arryn was taken quickly. Even Maester Pycelle was helpless, but he brought the milk of the poppy, so Jon did not linger long in pain.\"\n\n\"That is some small mercy, I suppose,\" he said. She could seethe grief on his face, but even then he thought first of her. \"Your sister,\" he said. \"And Jon's boy. What word of them?\"\n\n\"The message said only that they were well, and had returned to the Eyrie,\" Catelyn said. \"I wish they had gone to Riverrun instead. The Eyrie is high and lonely, and it was ever her husband's place, not hers. Lord Jon's memory will haunt each stone. I know my sister. She needs the comfort of family and friends around her.\"\n\n\"Your uncle waits in the Vale, does he not? Jon named him Knight of the Gate, I'd heard.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Catelyn nodded."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Brynden will do what he can for her, and for the boy. That is some comfort, but still...\"\n\n\"Go to her,\" Ned urged. \"Take the children. Fill her halls with noise and shouts and laughter. That boy of hers needs other children about him, and Lysa should not be alone in her grief.\"\n\n\"Would that I could,\" Catelyn said. \"The letter had other tidings. The king is riding to Winterfell to seek you out.\"\n\nIt took Ned a moment to comprehend her words, but when the understanding came, the darkness left his eyes. \"Robert is coming here?\" When she nodded, a smile broke across his face.\n\nCatelyn wished she could share his joy. But she had heard the talk in the yards; a direwolf dead in the snow, a broken antler in its throat. Dread coiled within her like a snake, but she forced herself to smile at this man she loved, this man who put no faith in signs. \"I knew that would please you,\" she said. \"We should send word to your brother on the Wall.\"\n\n\"Yes, of course,\" he agreed. \"Ben will want to be here. I shall tell Maester Luwin to send his swiftest bird.\" Ned rose and pulled her to her feet. \"Damnation, how many years has it been? And he gives us no more notice than this? How many in his party, did the message say?\"\n\n\"I should think a hundred knights, at the least, with all their retainers, and half again as many freeriders. Cersei and the children travel with them.\"\n\n\"Robert will keep an easy pace for their sakes,\" he said. \"It is just as well. That will give us more time to prepare.\""
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"value": "\"The queen's brothers are also in the party,\" she told him.\n\nNed grimaced at that. There was small love between him and the queen's family, Catelyn knew. The Lannisters of Casterly Rock had come late to Robert's cause, when victory was all but certain, and he had never forgiven them. \"Well, if the price for Robert's company is an infestation of Lannisters, so be it. It sounds as though Robert is bringing half his court.\"\n\n\"Where the king goes, the realm follows,\" she said.\n\n\"It will be good to seethe children. The youngest was still sucking at the Lannister woman's teat the last time I saw him. He must be, what, five by now?\"\n\n\"Prince Tommen is seven,\" she told him. \"The same age as Bran. Please, Ned, guard your tongue. The Lannister woman is our queen, and her pride is said to grow with every passing year.\"\n\nNed squeezed her hand. \"There must be a feast, of course, with singers, and Robert will want to hunt. I shall send Jory south with an honor guard to meet them on the kingsroad and escort them back. Gods, how are we going to feed them all? On his way already, you said? Damn the man. Damn his royal hide.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her brother held the gown up for her inspection.\n\n\"This is beauty. Touch it. Goon. Caress the fabric.\"\n\nDany touched it. The cloth was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She could not remember ever wearing anything so soft. It frightened her. She pulled her hand away. \"Is it really mine?\"\n\n\"A gift from the Magister Illyrio,\" Viserys said, smiling. Her brother was in a high mood tonight. \"The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess.\"\n\nA princess, Dany thought. She had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never really known. \"Why does he give us so much?\" she asked. \"What does he want from us?\" For nigh on half a year, they had lived in the magister's house, eating his food, pampered by his servants. Dany was thirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, herein the free city of Pentos.\n\n\"Illyrio is no fool,\" Viserys said. He was a gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale lilac eyes. \"The magister knows that I will not forget my friends when I come into my throne.\"\n\nDany said nothing. Magister Illyrio was a dealer in spices, gemstones, dragonbone, and other, less savory things. He had friends in all of the Nine Free Cities, it was said, and even beyond, in Vaes Dothrak and the fabled lands beside the Jade Sea. It was also said that he'd never had a friend he wouldn't cheerfully sell for the right price. Dany listened to the talk in the streets, and she heard these things, but she knew better than to question her brother when he wove his webs of dream. His anger was a terrible thing when roused. Viserys called it'waking the dragon.\""
},
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"value": "Her brother hung the gown beside the door. \"Illyrio will send the slaves to bathe you. Be sure you wash off the stink of the stables. Khal Drogo has a thousand horses, tonight he looks fora different sort of mount.\" He studied her critically. \"You still slouch. Straighten yourself.\" He pushed back her shoulders with his hands. \"Let them see that you have a woman's shape now.\" His fingers brushed lightly over her budding breasts and tightened on a nipple. \"You will not fail me tonight. If you do, it will go hard for you. You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?\" His fingers twisted her, the pinch cruelly hard through the rough fabric of her tunic. \"Do you?\" he repeated.\n\n\"No,\" Dany said meekly.\n\nHer brother smiled. \"Good.\" He touched her hair, almost with affection. \"When they write the history of my reign, sweet sister, they will say that it began tonight.\"\n\nWhen he was gone, Dany went to her window and looked out wistfully on the waters of the bay. The square brick towers of Pentos were black silhouettes outlined against the setting sun. Dany could hear the singing of the red priests as they lit their night fires and the shouts of ragged children playing games beyond the walls of the estate. Fora moment she wished she could be out therewith them, barefoot and breathless and dressed in tatters, with no past and no future and no feast to attend at Khal Drogo's manse.\n\nSomewhere beyond the sunset, across the narrow sea, lay a land of green hills and flowered plains and great rushing rivers, where towers of dark stone rose amidst magnificent blue-grey mountains, and armored knights rode to battle beneath the banners of their lords. The Dothraki called that land Rhaesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the Sunset Kingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. \"Our land,\" he called it. The words were like a prayer with him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. \"Ours by blood right, taken from us by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "And perhaps the dragon did remember, but Dany could not. She had never seen this land her brother said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle of Faces, they were just words to her. Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King's Landing to escape the advancing armies of the Usurper, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother's womb.\n\nYet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship's black sails. Her brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King's Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper's dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar's heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father's throat with a golden sword.\n\nShe had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after their flight, while a raging summer storm threatened to rip the island fastness apart. They said that storm was terrible. The Targaryen fleet was smashed while it lay at anchor, and huge stone blocks were ripped from the parapets and sent hurtling into the wild waters of the narrow sea. Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brother Viserys had never forgiven her.\n\nShe did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper's brother set sail with his new-built fleet. By then only Dragonstone itself, the ancient seat of their House, had remained of the Seven Kingdoms that had once been theirs. It would not remain for long. The garrison had been prepared to sell them to the Usurper, but one night Ser Willem Darry and four loyal men had broken into the nursery and stolen them both, along with her wet nurse, and set sail undercover of darkness for the safety of the Braavosian coast."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She remembered Ser Willem dimly, a great grey bear of a man, half-blind, roaring and bellowing orders from his sickbed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The servants had lived in terror of him, but he had always been kind to Dany. He called her'Little Princess\" and sometimes'My Lady,\" and his hands were soft as old leather. He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor. That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been putout of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.\n\nThey had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and onto Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in anyone place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper's hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.\n\nAt first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the last Targaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit upon the Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to sell their last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother's crown had gone. In the alleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother'the beggar king.\" Dany did not want to know what they called her.\n\n\"We will have it all back someday, sweet sister,\" he would promise her. Sometimes his hands shook when he talked about it. \"The jewels and the silks, Dragonstone and King's Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, all they have taken from us, we will have it back.\" Viserys lived for that day. All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There came a soft knock on her door."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come,\" Dany said, turning away from the window. Illyrio's servants entered, bowed, and set about their business. They were slaves, a gift from one of the magister's many Dothraki friends. There was no slavery in the free city of Pentos. Nonetheless, they were slaves. The old woman, small and grey as a mouse, never said a word, but the girl made up for it. She was Illyrio's favorite, a fair-haired, blue-eyed wench of sixteen who chattered constantly as she worked.\n\nThey filled her bath with hot water brought up from the kitchen and scented it with fragrant oils. The girl pulled the rough cotton tunic over Dany's head and helped her into the tub. The water was scalding hot, but Daenerys did not flinch or cry out. She liked the heat. It made her feel clean. Besides, her brother had often told her that it was never too hot fora Targaryen. \"Ours is the house of the dragon,\" he would say. \"The fire is in our blood.\"\n\nThe old woman washed her long, silver-pale hair and gently combed out the snags, all in silence. The girl scrubbed her back and her feet and told her how lucky she was. \"Drogo is so rich that even his slaves wear golden collars. A hundred thousand men ride in his khalasar, and his palace in Vaes Dothrak has two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver.\" There was more like that, so much more, what a handsome man the khal was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best rider ever to mount a horse, a demon archer. Daenerys said nothing. She had always assumed that she would wed Viserys when she came of age. For centuries the Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon the Conqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousand times; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not mate with the beasts of the field, and Targaryens did not mingle their blood with that of lesser men. Yet now Viserys schemed to sell her to a stranger, a barbarian."
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "When she was clean, the slaves helped her from the water and toweled her dry. The girl brushed her hair until it shone like molten silver, while the old woman anointed her with the spiceflower perfume of the Dothraki plains, a dab on each wrist, behind her ears, on the tips of her breasts, and one last one, cool on her lips, down there between her legs. They dressed her in the wisps that Magister Illyrio had sent up, and then the gown, a deep plum silk to bring out the violet in her eyes. The girl slid the gilded sandals onto her feet, while the old woman fixed the tiara in her hair, and slid golden bracelets crusted with amethysts around her wrists. Last of all came the collar, a heavy golden torc emblazoned with ancient Valyrian glyphs.\n\n\"Now you look all a princess,\" the girl said breathlessly when they were done. Dany glanced at her image in the silvered looking glass that Illyrio had so thoughtfully provided. A princess, she thought, but she remembered what the girl had said, how Khal Drogo was so rich even his slaves wore golden collars. She felt a sudden chill, and gooseflesh pimpled her bare arms.\n\nHer brother was waiting in the cool of the entry hall, seated on the edge of the pool, his hand trailing in the water. He rose when she appeared and looked her over critically. \"Stand there,\" he told her. \"Turnaround. Yes. Good. You look...\"\n\n\"Regal,\" Magister Illyrio said, stepping through an archway. He moved with surprising delicacy for such a massive man. Beneath loose garments of flame-colored silk, rolls of fat jiggled as he walked. Gemstones glittered on every finger, and his man had oiled his forked yellow beard until it shone like real gold. \"May the Lord of Light shower you with blessings on this most fortunate day, Princess Daenerys,\" the magister said as he took her hand. He bowed his head, showing a thin glimpse of crooked yellow teeth through the gold of his beard. \"She is a vision, Your Grace, a vision,\" he told her brother. \"Drogo will be enraptured.\""
},
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{
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"value": "\"She's too skinny,\" Viserys said. His hair, the same silver-blond as hers, had been pulled back tightly behind his head and fastened with a dragonbone brooch. It was a severe look that emphasized the hard, gaunt lines of his face. He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword that Illyrio had lent him, and said, \"Are you sure that Khal Drogo likes his women this young?\"\n\n\"She has had her blood. She is old enough for the khal,\" Illyrio told him, not for the first time. \"Look at her. That silver-gold hair, those purple eyes... she is the blood of old Valyria, no doubt, no doubt... and highborn, daughter of the old king, sister to the new, she cannot fail to entrance our Drogo.\" When he released her hand, Daenerys found herself trembling.\n\n\"I suppose,\" her brother said doubtfully. \"The savages have queer tastes. Boys, horses, sheep...\"\n\n\"Best not suggest this to Khal Drogo,\" Illyrio said.\n\nAnger flashed in her brother's lilac eyes. \"Do you take me fora fool?\"\n\nThe magister bowed slightly. \"I take you fora king. Kings lack the caution of common men. My apologies if I have given offense.\" He turned away and clapped his hands for his bearers.\n\nThe streets of Pentos were pitch-dark when they set out in Illyrio's elaborately carved palanquin. Two servants went ahead to light their way, carrying ornate oil lanterns with panes of pale blue glass, while a dozen strongmen hoisted the poles to their shoulders. It was warm and close inside behind the curtains. Dany could smell the stench of Illyrio's pallid flesh through his heavy perfumes."
}
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[
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"value": "Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 6"
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "\"She's too skinny,\" Viserys said. His hair, the same silver-blond as hers, had been pulled back tightly behind his head and fastened with a dragonbone brooch. It was a severe look that emphasized the hard, gaunt lines of his face. He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword that Illyrio had lent him, and said, \"Are you sure that Khal Drogo likes his women this young?\"\n\n\"She has had her blood. She is old enough for the khal,\" Illyrio told him, not for the first time. \"Look at her. That silver-gold hair, those purple eyes... she is the blood of old Valyria, no doubt, no doubt... and highborn, daughter of the old king, sister to the new, she cannot fail to entrance our Drogo.\" When he released her hand, Daenerys found herself trembling.\n\n\"I suppose,\" her brother said doubtfully. \"The savages have queer tastes. Boys, horses, sheep...\"\n\n\"Best not suggest this to Khal Drogo,\" Illyrio said.\n\nAnger flashed in her brother's lilac eyes. \"Do you take me fora fool?\"\n\nThe magister bowed slightly. \"I take you fora king. Kings lack the caution of common men. My apologies if I have given offense.\" He turned away and clapped his hands for his bearers.\n\nThe streets of Pentos were pitch-dark when they set out in Illyrio's elaborately carved palanquin. Two servants went ahead to light their way, carrying ornate oil lanterns with panes of pale blue glass, while a dozen strongmen hoisted the poles to their shoulders. It was warm and close inside behind the curtains. Dany could smell the stench of Illyrio's pallid flesh through his heavy perfumes."
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"value": "Her brother, sprawled out on his pillows beside her, never noticed. His mind was away across the narrow sea. \"We won't need his whole khalasar,\" Viserys said. His fingers toyed with the hilt of his borrowed blade, though Dany knew he had never used a sword in earnest. \"Ten thousand, that would be enough, I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers. The realm will rise for its rightful king. Tyrell, Redwyne, Darry, Greyjoy, they have no more love for the Usurper than I do. The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children. And the smallfolk will be with us. They cry out for their king.\" He looked at Illyrio anxiously. \"They do, don't they?\"\n\n\"They are your people, and they love you well,\" Magister Illyrio said amiably. \"In holdfasts all across the realm, men lift secret toasts to your health while women sew dragon banners and hide them against the day of your return from across the water.\" He gave a massive shrug. \"Or so my agents tell me.\"\n\nDany had no agents, noway of knowing what anyone was doing or thinking across the narrow sea, but she mistrusted Illyrio's sweet words as she mistrusted everything about Illyrio. Her brother was nodding eagerly, however. \"I shall kill the Usurper myself,\" he promised, who had never killed anyone, \"as he killed my brother Rhaegar. And Lannister too, the Kingslayer, for what he did to my father.\"\n\n\"That would be most fitting,\" Magister Illyrio said. Dany saw the smallest hint of a smile playing around his full lips, but her brother did not notice. Nodding, he pushed back a curtain and stared off into the night, and Dany knew he was fighting the Battle of the Trident once again."
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"value": "The nine-towered manse of Khal Drogo sat beside the waters of the bay, its high brick walls overgrown with pale ivy. It had been given to the khal by the magisters of Pentos, Illyrio told them. The Free Cities were always generous with the horselords. \"It is not that we fear these barbarians,\" Illyrio would explain with a smile. \"The Lord of Light would hold our city walls against a million Dothraki, or so the red priests promise... yet why take chances, when their friendship comes so cheap?\"\n\nTheir palanquin was stopped at the gate, the curtains pulled roughly back by one of the house guards. He had the copper skin and dark almond eyes of a Dothraki, but his face was hairless and he wore the spiked bronze cap of the Unsullied. He looked them over coldly. Magister Illyrio growled something to him in the rough Dothraki tongue; the guardsman replied in the same voice and waved them through the gates.\n\nDany noticed that her brother's hand was clenched tightly around the hilt of his borrowed sword. He looked almost as frightened as she felt. \"Insolent eunuch,\" Viserys muttered as the palanquin lurched up toward the manse.\n\nMagister Illyrio's words were honey. \"Many important men will beat the feast tonight. Such men have enemies. The khal must protect his guests, yourself chief among them, Your Grace. No doubt the Usurper would pay well for your head.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" Viserys said darkly. \"He has tried, Illyrio, I promise you that. His hired knives follow us everywhere. I am the last dragon, and he will not sleep easy while I live.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The palanquin slowed and stopped. The curtains were thrown back, and a slave offered a hand to help Daenerys out. His collar, she noted, was ordinary bronze. Her brother followed, one hand still clenched hard around his sword hilt. It took two strongmen to get Magister Illyrio back on his feet.\n\nInside the manse, the air was heavy with the scent of spices, pinchfire and sweet lemon and cinnamon. They were escorted across the entry hall, where a mosaic of colored glass depicted the Doom of Valyria. Oil burned in black iron lanterns all along the walls. Beneath an arch of twining stone leaves, a eunuch sang their coming. \"Viserys of the House Targaryen, the Third of his Name,\" he called in a high, sweet voice, \"King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. His sister, Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone. His honorable host, Illyrio Mopatis, Magister of the Free City of Pentos.\"\n\nThey stepped past the eunuch into a pillared courtyard overgrown in pale ivy. Moonlight painted the leaves in shades of bone and silver as the guests drifted among them. Many were Dothraki horselords, big men with red-brown skin, their drooping mustachios bound in metal rings, their black hair oiled and braided and hung with bells. Yet among them moved bravos and sellswords from Pentos and Myr and Tyrosh, a red priest even fatter than Illyrio, hairy men from the Port of Ibben, and lords from the Summer Isles with skin as black as ebony. Daenerys looked at them all in wonder... and realized, with a sudden start of fear, that she was the only woman there."
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"value": "Illyrio whispered to them. \"Those three are Drogo's bloodriders, there,\" he said. \"By the pillar is Khal Moro, with his son Rhogoro. The man with the green beard is brother to the Archon of Tyrosh, and the man behind him is Ser Jorah Mormont.\"\n\nThe last name caught Daenerys. \"A knight?\"\n\n\"No less.\" Illyrio smiled through his beard. \"Anointed with the seven oils by the High Septon himself.\"\n\n\"What is he doing here?\" she blurted.\n\n\"The Usurper wanted his head,\" Illyrio told them. \"Some trifling affront. He sold some poachers to a Tyroshi slaver instead of giving them to the Night's Watch. Absurd law. A man should be able to do as he likes with his own chattel.\"\n\n\"I shall wish to speak with Ser Jorah before the night is done,\" her brother said. Dany found herself looking at the knight curiously. He was an older man, past forty and balding, but still strong and fit. Instead of silks and cottons, he wore wool and leather. His tunic was a dark green, embroidered with the likeness of a black bear standing on two legs.\n\nShe was still looking at this strange man from the homeland she had never known when Magister Illyrio placed a moist hand on her bare shoulder. \"Over there, sweet princess,\" he whispered, \"there is the khal himself.\"\n\nDany wanted to run and hide, but her brother was looking at her, and if she displeased him she knew she would wake the dragon. Anxiously, she turned and looked at the man Viserys hoped would ask towed her before the night was done."
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The slave girl had not been far wrong, she thought. Khal Drogo was ahead taller than the tallest man in the room, yet somehow light on his feet, as graceful as the panther in Illyrio's menagerie. He was younger than she'd thought, no more than thirty. His skin was the color of polished copper, his thick mustachios bound with gold and bronze rings.\n\n\"I must go and make my submissions,\" Magister Illyrio said. \"Wait here. I shall bring him to you.\"\n\nHer brother took her by the arm as Illyrio waddled over to the khal, his fingers squeezing so hard that they hurt. \"Do you see his braid, sweet sister?\"\n\nDrogo's braid was black as midnight and heavy with scented oil, hung with tiny bells that rang softly as he moved. It swung well past his belt, below even his buttocks, the end of it brushing against the back of his thighs.\n\n\"You see how long it is?\" Viserys said. \"When Dothraki are defeated in combat, they cutoff their braids in disgrace, so the world will know their shame. Khal Drogo has never lost a fight. He is Aegon the Dragonlord come again, and you will be his queen.\"\n\nDany looked at Khal Drogo. His face was hard and cruel, his eyes as cold and dark as onyx. Her brother hurt her sometimes, when she woke the dragon, but he did not frighten her the way this man frightened her. \"I don't want to be his queen,\" she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. \"Please, please, Viserys, I don't want to, I want to go home.\"\n\n\"Home!\" He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. \"How are we to go home, sweet sister? They took our home from us!\" He drew her into the shadows, out of sight, his fingers digging into her skin. \"How are we to go home?\" he repeated, meaning King's Landing, and Dragonstone, and all the realm they had lost."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio's estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home therefor him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him. His fingers dug hard into her arm, demanding an answer. \"I don't know...\" she said at last, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes.\n\n\"I do,\" he said sharply. \"We go home with an army, sweet sister. With Khal Drogo's army, that is how we go home. And if you must wed him and bed him for that, you will.\" He smiled at her. \"I'd let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men, and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army. Be grateful it is only Drogo. In time you may even learn to like him. Now dry your eyes. Illyrio is bringing him over, and he will not see you crying.\"\n\nDany turned and saw that it was true. Magister Illyrio, all smiles and bows, was escorting Khal Drogo over to where they stood. She brushed away unfallen tears with the back of her hand.\n\n\"Smile,\" Viserys whispered nervously, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword. \"And stand up straight. Let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, you have little enough as is.\"\n\nDaenerys smiled, and stood up straight."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "The visitors poured through the castle gates in a river of gold and silver and polished steel, three hundred strong, a pride of bannermen and knights, of sworn swords and freeriders. Over their heads a dozen golden banners whipped back and forth in the northern wind, emblazoned with the crowned stag of Baratheon.\n\nNed knew many of the riders. There came Ser Jaime Lannister with hair as bright as beaten gold, and there Sandor Clegane with his terrible burned face. The tallboy beside him could only be the crown prince, and that stunted little man behind them was surely the Imp, Tyrion Lannister.\n\nYet the huge man at the head of the column, flanked by two knights in the snow-white cloaks of the Kingsguard, seemed almost a stranger to Ned... until he vaulted off the back of his warhorse with a familiar roar, and crushed him in a bone-crunching hug. \"Ned! Ah, but it is good to see that frozen face of yours.\" The king looked him over top to bottom, and laughed. \"You have not changed at all.\"\n\nWould that Ned had been able to say the same. Fifteen years past, when they had ridden forth to win a throne, the Lord of Storm's End had been clean-shaven, clear-eyed, and muscled like a maiden's fantasy. Six and a half feet tall, he towered over lesser men, and when he donned his armor and the great antlered helmet of his House, he became a veritable giant. He'd had a giant's strength too, his weapon of choice a spiked iron warhammer that Ned could scarcely lift. In those days, the smell of leather and blood had clung to him like perfume.\n\nNow it was perfume that clung to him like perfume, and he had a girth to match his height. Ned had last seen the king nine years before during Balon Greyjoy's rebellion, when the stag and the direwolf had joined to end the pretensions of the self-proclaimed King of the Iron Islands. Since the night they had stood side by side in Greyjoy's fallen stronghold, where Robert had accepted the rebel lord's surrender and Ned had taken his son Theon as hostage and ward, the king had gained at least eight stone. A beard as coarse and black as iron wire covered his jaw to hide his double chin and the sag of the royal jowls, but nothing could hide his stomach or the dark circles under his eyes."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Yet Robert was Ned's king now, and not just a friend, so he said only, \"Your Grace."
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"value": "Winterfell is yours.\"\n\nBy then the others were dismounting as well, and grooms were coming forward for their mounts. Robert's queen, Cersei Lannister, entered on foot with her younger children. The wheelhouse in which they had ridden, a huge double-decked carriage of oiled oak and gilded metal pulled by forty heavy draft horses, was too wide to pass through the castle gate. Ned knelt in the snow to kiss the queen's ring, while Robert embraced Catelyn like along-lost sister. Then the children had been brought forward, introduced, and approved of by both sides.\n\nNo sooner had those formalities of greeting been completed than the king had said to his host, \"Take me down to your crypt, Eddard. I would pay my respects.\"\n\nNed loved him for that, for remembering her still after all these years. He called fora lantern. No other words were needed. The queen had begun to protest. They had been riding since dawn, everyone was tired and cold, surely they should refresh themselves first. The dead would wait. She had said no more than that; Robert had looked at her, and her twin brother Jaime had taken her quietly by the arm, and she had said no more.\n\nThey went down to the crypt together, Ned and this king he scarcely recognized. The winding stone steps were narrow. Ned went first with the lantern. \"I was starting to think we would never reach Winterfell,\" Robert complained as they descended. \"In the south, the way they talk about my Seven Kingdoms, a man forgets that your part is as big as the other six combined.\"\n\n\"I trust you enjoyed the journey, Your Grace?\"\n\nRobert snorted. \"Bogs and forests and fields, and scarcely a decent inn north of the Neck. I've never seen such avast emptiness. Where are all your people?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Likely they were too shy to come out,\" Ned jested. He could feel the chill coming up the stairs, a cold breath from deep within the earth. \"Kings area rare sight in the north.\"\n\nRobert snorted. \"More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned!\" The king put one hand on the wall to steady himself as they descended.\n\n\"Late summer snows are common enough,\" Ned said. \"I hope they did not trouble you. They are usually mild.\"\n\n\"The Others take your mild snows,\" Robert swore. \"What will this place be like in winter? I shudder to think.\"\n\n\"The winters are hard,\" Ned admitted. \"But the Starks will endure. We always have.\"\n\n\"You need to come south,\" Robert told him. \"You need a taste of summer before it flees. In Highgarden there are fields of golden roses that stretch away as far as the eye can see. The fruits are so ripe they explode in your mouth-melons, peaches, fireplums, you've never tasted such sweetness. You'll see, I brought you some. Even at Storm's End, with that good wind off the bay, the days are so hot you can barely move. And you ought to seethe towns, Ned! Flowers everywhere, the markets bursting with food, the summerwines so cheap and so good that you can get drunk just breathing the air. Everyone is fat and drunk and rich.\" He laughed and slapped his own ample stomach a thump. \"And the girls, Ned!\" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. \"I swear, women lose all modesty in the heat. They swim naked in the river, right beneath the castle. Even in the streets, it's too damn hot for wool or fur, so they go around in these short gowns, silk if they have the silver and cotton if not, but it's all the same when they start sweating and the cloth sticks to their skin, they might as well be naked.\" The king laughed happily."
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"value": "Robert Baratheon had always been a man of huge appetites, a man who knew how to take his pleasures. That was not a charge anyone could lay at the door of Eddard Stark. Yet Ned could not help but notice that those pleasures were taking atoll on the king. Robert was breathing heavily by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, his face red in the lantern light as they stepped out into the darkness of the crypt.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Ned said respectfully. He swept the lantern in a wide semicircle. Shadows moved and lurched. Flickering light touched the stones underfoot and brushed against along procession of granite pillars that marched ahead, two by two, into the dark. Between the pillars, the dead sat on their stone thrones against the walls, backs against the sepulchres that contained their mortal remains. \"She is down at the end, with Father and Brandon.\"\n\nHe led the way between the pillars and Robert followed wordlessly, shivering in the subterranean chill. It was always cold down here. Their footsteps rang off the stones and echoed in the vault overhead as they walked among the dead of House Stark. The Lords of Winterfell watched them pass. Their likenesses were carved into the stones that sealed the tombs. In long rows they sat, blind eyes staring out into eternal darkness, while great stone direwolves curled round their feet. The shifting shadows made the stone figures seem to stir as the living passed by.\n\nBy ancient custom an iron longsword had been laid across the lap of each who had been Lord of Winterfell, to keep the vengeful spirits in their crypts. The oldest had long ago rusted away to nothing, leaving only a few red stains where the metal had rested on stone. Ned wondered if that meant those ghosts were free to roam the castle now. He hoped not. The first Lords of Winterfell had been men hard as the land they ruled. In the centuries before the Dragonlords came over the sea, they had sworn allegiance to no man, styling themselves the Kings in the North."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Ned stopped at last and lifted the oil lantern."
},
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"value": "The crypt continued on into darkness ahead of them, but beyond this point the tombs were empty and unsealed; black holes waiting for their dead, waiting for him and his children. Ned did not like to think on that. \"Here,\" he told his king.\n\nRobert nodded silently, knelt, and bowed his head.\n\nThere were three tombs, side by side. Lord Rickard Stark, Ned's father, had along, stern face. The stonemason had known him well. He sat with quiet dignity, stone fingers holding tight to the sword across his lap, but in life all swords had failed him. In two smaller sepulchres on either side were his children.\n\nBrandon had been twenty when he died, strangled by order of the Mad King Aerys Targaryen only a few short days before he was towed Catelyn Tully of Riverrun. His father had been forced to watch him die. He was the true heir, the eldest, born to rule.\n\nLyanna had only been sixteen, a child-woman of surpassing loveliness. Ned had loved her with all his heart. Robert had loved her even more. She was to have been his bride.\n\n\"She was more beautiful than that,\" the king said after a silence. His eyes lingered on Lyanna's face, as if he could will her back to life. Finally he rose, made awkward by his weight. \"Ah, damn it, Ned, did you have to bury her in a place like this?\" His voice was hoarse with remembered grief. \"She deserved more than darkness...\"\n\n\"She was a Stark of Winterfell,\" Ned said quietly. \"This is her place.\"\n\n\"She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her and the rain to wash her clean.\""
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"value": "\"I was with her when she died,\" Ned reminded the king. \"She wanted to come home, to rest beside Brandon and Father.\" He could hear her still at times. Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black. After that he remembered nothing. They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her hand from his. Ned could recall none of it. \"I bring her flowers when I can,\" he said. \"Lyanna was... fond of flowers.\"\n\nThe king touched her cheek, his fingers brushing across the rough stone as gently as if it were living flesh. \"I vowed to kill Rhaegar for what he did to her.\"\n\n\"You did,\" Ned reminded him.\n\n\"Only once,\" Robert said bitterly.\n\nThey had come together at the ford of the Trident while the battle crashed around them, Robert with his warhammer and his great antlered helm, the Targaryen prince armored all in black. On his breastplate was the three-headed dragon of his House, wrought all in rubies that flashed like fire in the sunlight. The waters of the Trident ran red around the hooves of their destriers as they circled and clashed, again and again, until at last a crushing blow from Robert's hammer stove in the dragon and the chest beneath it. When Ned had finally come on the scene, Rhaegar lay dead in the stream, while men of both armies scrabbled in the swirling waters for rubies knocked free of his armor."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"In my dreams, I kill him every night,\" Robert admitted. \"A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves.\"\n\nThere was nothing Ned could say to that. After a quiet, he said, \"We should return, Your Grace. Your wife will be waiting.\"\n\n\"The Others take my wife,\" Robert muttered sourly, but he started back the way they had come, his footsteps falling heavily. \"And if I hear \"Your Grace\" once more, I'll have your head on a spike. We are more to each other than that.\"\n\n\"I had not forgotten,\" Ned replied quietly. When the king did not answer, he said, \"Tell me about Jon.\"\n\nRobert shook his head. \"I have never seen a man sicken so quickly. We gave a tourney on my son's name day. If you had seen Jon then, you would have sworn he would live forever. A fortnight later he was dead. The sickness was like afire in his gut. It burned right through him.\" He paused beside a pillar, before the tomb of along-dead Stark. \"I loved that old man.\"\n\n\"We both did.\" Ned paused a moment. \"Catelyn fears for her sister. How does Lysa bear her grief?\"\n\nRobert's mouth gave a bitter twist. \"Not well, in truth,\" he admitted. \"I think losing Jon has driven the woman mad, Ned. She has taken the boy back to the Eyrie. Against my wishes. I had hoped to foster him with Tywin Lannister at Casterly Rock. Jon had no brothers, no other sons. Was I supposed to leave him to be raised by women?\"\n\nNed would sooner entrust a child to a pit viper than to Lord Tywin, but he left his doubts unspoken. Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word. \"The wife has lost the husband,\" he said carefully. \"Perhaps the mother feared to lose the son. The boy is very young.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Six, and sickly, and Lord of the Eyrie, gods have mercy,\" the king swore. \"Lord Tywin had never taken award before. Lysa ought to have been honored. The Lannisters area great and noble House. She refused to even hear of it. Then she left in the dead of night, without so much as a by-your-leave. Cersei was furious.\" He sighed deeply. \"The boy is my namesake, did you know that? Robert Arryn. I am sworn to protect him. How can I do that if his mother steals him away?\"\n\n\"I will take him as ward, if you wish,\" Ned said. \"Lysa should consent to that. She and Catelyn were close as girls, and she would be welcome here as well.\"\n\n\"A generous offer, my friend,\" the king said, \"but too late. Lord Tywin has already given his consent. Fostering the boy elsewhere would be a grievous affront to him.\"\n\n\"I have more concern for my nephew's welfare than I do for Lannister pride,\" Ned declared.\n\n\"That is because you do not sleep with a Lannister.\" Robert laughed, the sound rattling among the tombs and bouncing from the vaulted ceiling. His smile was a flash of white teeth in the thicket of the huge black beard. \"Ah, Ned,\" he said, \"you are still too serious.\" He put a massive arm around Ned's shoulders. \"I had planned to wait a few days to speak to you, but I see now there's no need for it. Come, walk with me.\"\n\nThey started back down between the pillars. Blind stone eyes seemed to follow them as they passed. The king kept his arm around Ned's shoulder. \"You must have wondered why I finally came north to Winterfell, after so long.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ned had his suspicions, but he did not give them voice."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"For the joy of my company, surely,\" he said lightly. \"And there is the Wall. You need to see it, Your Grace, to walk along its battlements and talk to those who man it. The Night's Watch is a shadow of what it once was. Benjen says-\"\n\n\"No doubt I will hear what your brother says soon enough,\" Robert said. \"The Wall has stood for what, eight thousand years? It can keep a few days more. I have more pressing concerns. These are difficult times. I need good men about me. Men like Jon Arryn. He served as Lord of the Eyrie, as Warden of the East, as the Hand of the King. He will not be easy to replace.\"\n\n\"His son...\" Ned began.\n\n\"His son will succeed to the Eyrie and all its incomes,\" Robert said brusquely. \"No more.\"\n\nThat took Ned by surprise. He stopped, startled, and turned to look at his king. The words came unbidden. \"The Arryns have always been Wardens of the East. The title goes with the domain.\"\n\n\"Perhaps when he comes of age, the honor can be restored to him,\" Robert said. \"I have this year to think of, and next. A six-year-old boy is no war leader, Ned.\"\n\n\"In peace, the title is only an honor. Let the boy keep it. For his father's sake if not his own. Surely you owe Jon that much for his service.\"\n\nThe king was not pleased. He took his arm from around Ned's shoulders. \"Jon's service was the duty he owed his liege lord. I am not ungrateful, Ned. You of all men ought to know that. But the son is not the father. A mere boy cannot hold the east.\" Then his tone softened. \"Enough of this. There is a more important office to discuss, and I would not argue with you.\" Robert grasped Ned by the elbow. \"I have need of you, Ned.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am yours to command, Your Grace. Always.\" They were words he had to say, and so he said them, apprehensive about what might come next.\n\nRobert scarcely seemed to hear him. \"Those years we spent in the Eyrie... gods, those were good years. I want you at my side again, Ned. I want you down in King's Landing, not up here at the end of the world where you are no damned use to anybody.\" Robert looked off into the darkness, fora moment as melancholy as a Stark. \"I swear to you, sitting a throne is a thousand times harder than winning one. Laws area tedious business and counting coppers is worse. And the people... there is no end of them. I sit on that damnable iron chair and listen to them complain until my mind is numb and my ass is raw. They all want something, money or land or justice. The lies they tell... and my lords and ladies are no better. I am surrounded by flatterers and fools. It can drive a man to madness, Ned. Half of them don't dare tell me the truth, and the other half can't find it. There are nights I wish we had lost at the Trident. Ah, no, not truly, but...\"\n\n\"I understand,\" Ned said softly.\n\nRobert looked at him. \"I think you do. If so, you are the only one, my old friend.\" He smiled. \"Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the King.\"\n\nNed dropped to one knee. The offer did not surprise him; what other reason could Robert have had for coming so far? The Hand of the King was the second-most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms. He spoke with the king's voice, commanded the king's armies, drafted the king's laws. At times he even sat upon the Iron Throne to dispense king's justice, when the king was absent, or sick, or otherwise indisposed. Robert was offering him a responsibility as large as the realm itself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was the last thing in the world he wanted.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" he said. \"I am not worthy of the honor.\"\n\nRobert groaned with good-humored impatience. \"If I wanted to honor you, I'd let you retire. I am planning to make you run the kingdom and fight the wars while I eat and drink and wench myself into an early grave.\" He slapped his gut and grinned. \"You know the saying, about the king and his Hand?\"\n\nNed knew the saying. \"What the king dreams,\" he said, \"the Hand builds.\"\n\n\"I bedded a fishmaid once who told me the lowborn have a choicer way to put it. The king eats, they say, and the Hand takes the shit.\" He threw back his head and roared his laughter. The echoes rang through the darkness, and all around them the dead of Winterfell seemed to watch with cold and disapproving eyes.\n\nFinally the laughter dwindled and stopped. Ned was still on one knee, his eyes upraised. \"Damn it, Ned,\" the king complained. \"You might at least humor me with a smile.\"\n\n\"They say it grows so cold up herein winter that a man's laughter freezes in his throat and chokes him to death,\" Ned said evenly. \"Perhaps that is why the Starks have so little humor.\"\n\n\"Come south with me, and I'll teach you how to laugh again,\" the king promised. \"You helped me win this damnable throne, now help me hold it. We were meant to rule together. If Lyanna had lived, we should have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection. Well, it is not too late. I have a son. You have a daughter. My Joff and your Sansa shall join our houses, as Lyanna and I might once have done.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This offer did surprise him. \"Sansa is only eleven.\"\n\nRobert waved an impatient hand. \"Old enough for betrothal. The marriage can wait a few years.\" The king smiled. \"Now stand up and say yes, curse you.\"\n\n\"Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Your Grace,\" Ned answered. He hesitated. \"These honors are all so unexpected. May I have sometime to consider? I need to tell my wife...\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, of course, tell Catelyn, sleep on it if you must.\" The king reached down, clasped Ned by the hand, and pulled him roughly to his feet. \"Just don't keep me waiting too long. I am not the most patient of men.\"\n\nFora moment Eddard Stark was filled with a terrible sense of foreboding. This was his place, herein the north. He looked at the stone figures all around them, breathed deep in the chill silence of the crypt. He could feel the eyes of the dead. They were all listening, he knew. And winter was coming."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "There were times-not many, but a few-when Jon Snow was glad he was a bastard. Ashe filled his wine cup once more from a passing flagon, it struck him that this might be one of them.\n\nHe settled back in his place on the bench among the younger squires and drank. The sweet, fruity taste of summerwine filled his mouth and brought a smile to his lips.\n\nThe Great Hall of Winterfell was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. Its grey stonewalls were draped with banners. White, gold, crimson: the direwolf of Stark, Baratheon's crowned stag, the lion of Lannister. A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations.\n\nIt was the fourth hour of the welcoming feast laid for the king. Jon's brothers and sisters had been seated with the royal children, beneath the raised platform where Lord and Lady Stark hosted the king and queen. In honor of the occasion, his lord father would doubtless permit each child a glass of wine, but no more than that. Down hereon the benches, there was no one to stop Jon drinking as much as he had athirst for.\n\nAnd he was finding that he had a man's thirst, to the raucous delight of the youths around him, who urged him on every time he drained a glass. They were fine company, and Jon relished the stories they were telling, tales of battle and bedding and the hunt. He was certain that his companions were more entertaining than the king's offspring. He had sated his curiosity about the visitors when they made their entrance. The procession had passed not afoot from the place he had been given on the bench, and Jon had gotten a good long look at them all."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "His lord father had come first, escorting the queen. She was as beautiful as men said. A jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair, its emeralds a perfect match for the green of her eyes. His father helped her up the steps to the dais and led her to her seat, but the queen never so much as looked at him. Even at fourteen, Jon could see through her smile.\n\nNext had come King Robert himself, with Lady Stark on his arm. The king was a great disappointment to Jon. His father had talked of him often: the peerless Robert Baratheon, demon of the Trident, the fiercest warrior of the realm, a giant among princes. Jon saw only a fat man, red-faced under his beard, sweating through his silks. He walked like a man half in his cups.\n\nAfter them came the children. Little Rickon first, managing the long walk with all the dignity a three-year-old could muster. Jon had to urge him on when he stopped to visit. Close behind came Robb, in grey wool trimmed with white, the Stark colors. He had the Princess Myrcella on his arm. She was a wisp of a girl, not quite eight, her hair a cascade of golden curls under a jeweled net. Jon noticed the shy looks she gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn't even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool.\n\nHis half sisters escorted the royal princes. Arya was paired with plump young Tommen, whose white-blond hair was longer than hers. Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. He was twelve, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jon's vast dismay. Prince Joffrey had his sister's hair and his mother's deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was more interested in the pair that came behind him: the queen's brothers, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. The Lion and the Imp; there was no mistaking which was which. Ser Jaime Lannister was twin to Queen Cersei; tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and whispered'Kingslayer\" behind his back.\n\nJon found it hard to look away from him. This is what a king should look like, he thought to himself as the man passed.\n\nThen he saw the other one, waddling along half-hidden by his brother's side. Tyrion Lannister, the youngest of Lord Tywin's brood and by far the ugliest. All that the gods had given to Cersei and Jaime, they had denied Tyrion. He was a dwarf, half his brother's height, struggling to keep pace on stunted legs. His head was too large for his body, with a brute's squashed-in face beneath a swollen shelf of brow. One green eye and one black one peered out from under a lank fall of hair so blond it seemed white. Jon watched him with fascination.\n\nThe last of the high lords to enter were his uncle, Benjen Stark of the Night's Watch, and his father's ward, young Theon Greyjoy. Benjen gave Jon a warm smile as he went by. Theon ignored him utterly, but there was nothing new in that. After all had been seated, toasts were made, thanks were given and returned, and then the feasting began."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon had started drinking then, and he had not stopped.\n\nSomething rubbed against his leg beneath the table. Jon saw red eyes staring up at him. \"Hungry again?\" he asked. There was still half a honeyed chicken in the center of the table. Jon reached out to tear off a leg, then had a better idea. He knifed the bird whole and let the carcass slide to the floor between his legs. Ghost ripped into it in savage silence. His brothers and sisters had not been permitted to bring their wolves to the banquet, but there were more curs than Jon could count at this end of the hall, and no one had said a word about his pup. He told himself he was fortunate in that too.\n\nHis eyes stung. Jon rubbed at them savagely, cursing the smoke. He swallowed another gulp of wine and watched his direwolf devour the chicken.\n\nDogs moved between the tables, trailing after the serving girls. One of them, a black mongrel bitch with long yellow eyes, caught ascent of the chicken. She stopped and edged under the bench to get a share. Jon watched the confrontation. The bitch growled low in her throat and moved closer. Ghost looked up, silent, and fixed the dog with those hot red eyes. The bitch snapped an angry challenge. She was three times the size of the direwolf pup. Ghost did not move. He stood over his prize and opened his mouth, baring his fangs. The bitch tensed, barked again, then thought better of this fight. She turned and slunk away, with one last defiant snap to save her pride. Ghost went back to his meal.\n\nJon grinned and reached under the table to ruffle the shaggy white fur. The direwolf looked up at him, nipped gently at his hand, then went back to eating."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Is this one of the direwolves I've heard so much of?\" a familiar voice asked close at hand.\n\nJon looked up happily as his uncle Ben put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair much as Jon had ruffled the wolf's. \"Yes,\" he said. \"His name is Ghost.\"\n\nOne of the squires interrupted the bawdy story he'd been telling to make room at the table for their lord's brother. Benjen Stark straddled the bench with long legs and took the wine cup out of Jon's hand. \"Summerwine,\" he said after a taste. \"Nothing so sweet. How many cups have you had, Jon?\"\n\nJon smiled.\n\nBen Stark laughed. \"As I feared. Ah, well. I believe I was younger than you the first time I got truly and sincerely drunk.\" He snagged a roasted onion, dripping brown with gravy, from a nearby trencher and bit into it. It crunched.\n\nHis uncle was sharp-featured and gaunt as a mountain crag, but there was always a hint of laughter in his blue-grey eyes. He dressed in black, as befitted a man of the Night's Watch. Tonight it was rich black velvet, with high leather boots and a wide belt with a silver buckle. A heavy silver chain was looped round his neck. Benjen watched Ghost with amusement as he ate his onion. \"Avery quiet wolf,\" he observed.\n\n\"He's not like the others,\" Jon said. \"He never makes a sound. That's why I named him Ghost. That, and because he's white. The others are all dark, grey or black.\"\n\n\"There are still direwolves beyond the Wall. We hear them on our rangings.\" Benjen Stark gave Jon along look. \"Don't you usually eat at table with your brothers?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Most times,\" Jon answered in a flat voice. \"But tonight Lady Stark thought it might give insult to the royal family to seat a bastard among them.\"\n\n\"I see.\" His uncle glanced over his shoulder at the raised table at the far end of the hall. \"My brother does not seem very festive tonight.\"\n\nJon had noticed that too. A bastard had to learn to notice things, to read the truth that people hid behind their eyes. His father was observing all the courtesies, but there was tightness in him that Jon had seldom seen before. He said little, looking out over the hall with hooded eyes, seeing nothing. Two seats away, the king had been drinking heavily all night. His broad face was flushed behind his great black beard. He made many a toast, laughed loudly at every jest, and attacked each dish like a starving man, but beside him the queen seemed as cold as an ice sculpture. \"The queen is angry too,\" Jon told his uncle in a low, quiet voice. \"Father took the king down to the crypts this afternoon. The queen didn't want him to go.\"\n\nBenjen gave Jon a careful, measuring look. \"You don't miss much, do you, Jon? We could use a manlike you on the Wall.\"\n\nJon swelled with pride. \"Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I'm the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle.\"\n\n\"Notable achievements.\"\n\n\"Take me with you when you go back to the Wall,\" Jon said in a sudden rush. \"Father will give me leave to go if you ask him, I know he will.\"\n\nUncle Benjen studied his face carefully. \"The Wallis a hard place fora boy, Jon.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am almost a man grown,\" Jon protested. \"I will turn fifteen on my next name day, and Maester Luwin says bastards grow up faster than other children.\"\n\n\"That's true enough,\" Benjen said with a downward twist of his mouth. He took Jon's cup from the table, filled it fresh from a nearby pitcher, and drank down along swallow.\n\n\"Daeren Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne,\" Jon said. The Young Dragon was one of his heroes.\n\n\"A conquest that lasted a summer,\" his uncle pointed out. \"Your Boy King lost ten thousand men taking the place, and another fifty trying to hold it. Someone should have told him that war isn't a game.\" He took another sip of wine. \"Also,\" he said, wiping his mouth, \"Daeren Targaryen was only eighteen when he died. Or have you forgotten that part?\"\n\n\"I forget nothing,\" Jon boasted. The wine was making him bold. He tried to sit very straight, to make himself seem taller. \"I want to serve in the Night's Watch, Uncle.\"\n\nHe had thought on it long and hard, lying abed at night while his brothers slept around him. Robb would someday inherit Winterfell, would command great armies as the Warden of the North. Bran and Rickon would be Robb's bannermen and rule holdfasts in his name. His sisters Arya and Sansa would marry the heirs of other great houses and go south as mistress of castles of their own. But what place could a bastard hope to earn?\n\n\"You don't know what you're asking, Jon. The Night's Watch is a sworn brotherhood. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A bastard can have honor too,\" Jon said. \"I am ready to swear your oath.\"\n\n\"You area boy of fourteen,\" Benjen said. \"Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up.\"\n\n\"I don't care about that!\" Jon said hotly.\n\n\"You might, if you knew what it meant,\" Benjen said. \"If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.\"\n\nJon felt anger rise inside him. \"I'm not your son!\"\n\nBenjen Stark stood up. \"More's the pity.\" He put a hand on Jon's shoulder. \"Comeback tome after you've fathered a few bastards of your own, and we'll see how you feel.\"\n\nJon trembled. \"I will never father a bastard,\" he said carefully. \"Never!\" He spat it out like venom.\n\nSuddenly he realized that the table had fallen silent, and they were all looking at him. He felt the tears begin to well behind his eyes. He pushed himself to his feet.\n\n\"I must be excused,\" he said with the last of his dignity. He whirled and bolted before they could see him cry. He must have drunk more wine than he had realized. His feet got tangled under him as he tried to leave, and he lurched sideways into a serving girl and sent a flagon of spiced wine crashing to the floor. Laughter boomed all around him, and Jon felt hot tears on his cheeks. Someone tried to steady him. He wrenched free of their grip and ran, half-blind, for the door. Ghost followed close at his heels, out into the night.\n\nThe yard was quiet and empty. Alone sentry stood high on the battlements of the inner wall, his cloak pulled tight around him against the cold. He looked bored and miserable as he huddled there alone, but Jon would have traded places with him in an instant. Otherwise the castle was dark and deserted. Jon had seen an abandoned holdfast once, a drear place where nothing moved but the wind and the stones kept silent about whatever people had lived there. Winterfell reminded him of that tonight."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The sounds of music and song spilled through the open windows behind him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were the last things Jon wanted to hear. He wiped away his tears on the sleeve of his shirt, furious that he had let them fall, and turned to go.\n\n\"Boy,\" a voice called out to him. Jon turned.\n\nTyrion Lannister was sitting on the ledge above the door to the Great Hall, looking for all the world like a gargoyle. The dwarf grinned down at him. \"Is that animal a wolf?\"\n\n\"A direwolf,\" Jon said. \"His name is Ghost.\" He stared up at the little man, his disappointment suddenly forgotten. \"What are you doing up there? Why aren't you at the feast?\"\n\n\"Too hot, too noisy, and I'd drunk too much wine,\" the dwarf told him. \"I learned long ago that it is considered rude to vomit on your brother. Might I have a closer look at your wolf?\"\n\nJon hesitated, then nodded slowly. \"Can you climb down, or shall I bring a ladder?\"\n\n\"Oh, bleed that,\" the little man said. He pushed himself off the ledge into empty air. Jon gasped, then watched with awe as Tyrion Lannister spun around in a tight ball, landed lightly on his hands, then vaulted backward onto his legs.\n\nGhost backed away from him uncertainly.\n\nThe dwarf dusted himself off and laughed. \"I believe I've frightened your wolf. My apologies.\"\n\n\"He's not scared,\" Jon said. He knelt and called out. \"Ghost, come here. Come on. That's it.\"\n\nThe wolf pup padded closer and nuzzled at Jon's face, but he kept a wary eye on Tyrion Lannister, and when the dwarf reached out to pet him, he drew back and bared his fangs in a silent snarl. \"Shy, isn't he?\" Lannister observed."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sit, Ghost,\" Jon commanded. \"That's it. Keep still.\" He looked up at the dwarf. \"You can touch him now. He won't move until I tell him to. I've been training him.\"\n\n\"I see,\" Lannister said. He ruffled the snow-white fur between Ghost's ears and said, \"Nice wolf.\"\n\n\"If I wasn't here, he'd tear out your throat,\" Jon said. It wasn't actually true yet, but it would be.\n\n\"In that case, you had best stay close,\" the dwarf said. He cocked his oversized head to one side and looked Jon over with his mismatched eyes. \"I am Tyrion Lannister.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Jon said. He rose. Standing, he was taller than the dwarf. It made him feel strange.\n\n\"You're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?\"\n\nJon felt a coldness pass right through him. He pressed his lips together and said nothing.\n\n\"Did I offend you?\" Lannister said. \"Sorry. Dwarfs don't have to be tactful. Generations of capering fools in motley have won me the right to dress badly and say any damn thing that comes into my head.\" He grinned. \"You are the bastard, though.\"\n\n\"Lord Eddard Stark is my father,\" Jon admitted stiffly.\n\nLannister studied his face. \"Yes,\" he said. \"I can see it. You have more of the north in you than your brothers.\"\n\n\"Half brothers,\" Jon corrected. He was pleased by the dwarf's comment, but he tried not to let it show.\n\n\"Let me give you some counsel, bastard,\" Lannister said. \"Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon was in no mood for anyone's counsel. \"What do you know about being a bastard?\"\n\n\"All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes.\"\n\n\"You are your mother's trueborn son of Lannister.\"\n\n\"Am I?\" the dwarf replied, sardonic. \"Do tell my lord father. My mother died birthing me, and he's never been sure.\"\n\n\"I don't even know who my mother was,\" Jon said.\n\n\"Some woman, no doubt. Most of them are.\" He favored Jon with a rueful grin. \"Remember this, boy. All dwarfs maybe bastards, yet not all bastards need be dwarfs.\" And with that he turned and sauntered back into the feast, whistling a tune. When he opened the door, the light from within threw his shadow clear across the yard, and for just a moment Tyrion Lannister stood tall as a king."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Of all the rooms in Winterfell's Great Keep, Catelyn's bedchambers were the hottest. She seldom had to light afire. The castle had been built over natural hot springs, and the scalding waters rushed through its walls and chambers like blood through a man's body, driving the chill from the stone halls, filling the glass gardens with a moist warmth, keeping the earth from freezing. Open pools smoked day and night in a dozen small courtyards. That was a little thing, in summer; in winter, it was the difference between life and death.\n\nCatelyn's bath was always hot and steaming, and her walls warm to the touch. The warmth reminded her of Riverrun, of days in the sun with Lysa and Edmure, but Ned could never abide the heat. The Starks were made for the cold, he would tell her, and she would laugh and tell him in that case they had certainly built their castle in the wrong place.\n\nSo when they had finished, Ned rolled off and climbed from her bed, as he had a thousand times before. He crossed the room, pulled back the heavy tapestries, and threw open the high narrow windows one by one, letting the night air into the chamber.\n\nThe wind swirled around him as he stood facing the dark, naked and empty-handed. Catelyn pulled the furs to her chin and watched him. He looked somehow smaller and more vulnerable, like the youth she had wed in the sept at Riverrun, fifteen long years gone. Her loins still ached from the urgency of his lovemaking. It was a good ache. She could feel his seed within her. She prayed that it might quicken there. It had been three years since Rickon. She was not too old. She could give him another son."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will refuse him,\" Ned said as he turned back to her. His eyes were haunted, his voice thick with doubt.\n\nCatelyn sat up in the bed. \"You cannot. You must not.\"\n\n\"My duties are herein the north. I have no wish to be Robert's Hand.\"\n\n\"He will not understand that. He is a king now, and kings are not like other men. If you refuse to serve him, he will wonder why, and sooner or later he will begin to suspect that you oppose him. Can't you seethe danger that would put us in?\"\n\nNed shook his head, refusing to believe. \"Robert would never harm me or any of mine. We were closer than brothers. He loves me. If I refuse him, he will roar and curse and bluster, and in a week we will laugh about it together. I know the man!\"\n\n\"You knew the man,\" she said. \"The king is a stranger to you.\" Catelyn remembered the direwolf dead in the snow, the broken antler lodged deep in her throat. She had to make him see. \"Pride is everything to a king, my lord. Robert came all this way to see you, to bring you these great honors, you cannot throw them back in his face.\"\n\n\"Honors?\" Ned laughed bitterly.\n\n\"In his eyes, yes,\" she said.\n\n\"And in yours?\"\n\n\"And in mine,\" she blazed, angry now. Why couldn't he see? \"He offers his own son in marriage to our daughter, what else would you call that? Sansa might someday be queen. Her sons could rule from the Wall to the mountains of Dorne. What is so wrong with that?\"\n\n\"Gods, Catelyn, Sansa is only eleven,\" Ned said. \"And Joffrey... Joffrey is...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She finished for him. \"... crown prince, and heir to the Iron Throne. And I was only twelve when my father promised me to your brother Brandon.\"\n\nThat brought a bitter twist to Ned's mouth. \"Brandon. Yes. Brandon would know what to do. He always did. It was all meant for Brandon. You, Winterfell, everything. He was born to be a King's Hand and a father to queens. I never asked for this cup to pass tome.\"\n\n\"Perhaps not,\" Catelyn said, \"but Brandon is dead, and the cup has passed, and you must drink from it, like it or not.\"\n\nNed turned away from her, back to the night. He stood staring out in the darkness, watching the moon and the stars perhaps, or perhaps the sentries on the wall.\n\nCatelyn softened then, to see his pain. Eddard Stark had married her in Brandon's place, as custom decreed, but the shadow of his dead brother still lay between them, as did the other, the shadow of the woman he would not name, the woman who had borne him his bastard son.\n\nShe was about to go to him when the knock came at the door, loud and unexpected. Ned turned, frowning. \"What is it?\"\n\nDesmond's voice came through the door. \"My lord, Maester Luwin is without and begs urgent audience.\"\n\n\"You told him I had left orders not to be disturbed?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord. He insists.\"\n\n\"Very well. Send him in.\"\n\nNed crossed to the wardrobe and slipped on a heavy robe. Catelyn realized suddenly how cold it had become. She sat up in bed and pulled the furs to her chin. \"Perhaps we should close the windows,\" she suggested."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned nodded absently. Maester Luwin was shown in.\n\nThe maester was a small grey man. His eyes were grey, and quick, and saw much. His hair was grey, what little the years had left him. His robe was grey wool, trimmed with white fur, the Stark colors. Its great floppy sleeves had pockets hidden inside. Luwin was always tucking things into those sleeves and producing other things from them: books, messages, strange artifacts, toys for the children. With all he kept hidden in his sleeves, Catelyn was surprised that Maester Luwin could lift his arms at all.\n\nThe maester waited until the door had closed behind him before he spoke. \"My lord,\" he said to Ned, \"pardon for disturbing your rest. I have been left a message.\"\n\nNed looked irritated. \"Been left? By whom? Has there been a rider? I was not told.\"\n\n\"There was no rider, my lord. Only a carved wooden box, left on a table in my observatory while I napped. My servants saw no one, but it must have been brought by someone in the king's party. We have had no other visitors from the south.\"\n\n\"A wooden box, you say?\" Catelyn said.\n\n\"Inside was a fine new lens for the observatory, from Myr by the look of it. The lenscrafters of Myr are without equal.\"\n\nNed frowned. He had little patience for this sort of thing, Catelyn knew. \"A lens,\" he said. \"What has that to do with me?\"\n\n\"I asked the same question,\" Maester Luwin said. \"Clearly there was more to this than the seeming.\"\n\nUnder the heavyweight of her furs, Catelyn shivered. \"A lens is an instrument to help us see.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Indeed it is.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He fingered the collar of his order; a heavy chain worn tight around the neck beneath his robe, each link forged from a different metal.\n\nCatelyn could feel dread stirring inside her once again. \"What is it that they would have us see more clearly?\"\n\n\"The very thing I asked myself.\" Maester Luwin drew a tightly rolled paper out of his sleeve. \"I found the true message concealed within a false bottom when I dismantled the box the lens had come in, but it is not for my eyes.\"\n\nNed held out his hand. \"Let me have it, then.\"\n\nLuwin did not stir. \"Pardons, my lord. The message is not for you either. It is marked for the eyes of the Lady Catelyn, and her alone. May I approach?\"\n\nCatelyn nodded, not trusting to speak. The maester placed the paper on the table beside the bed. It was sealed with a small blob of blue wax. Luwin bowed and began to retreat.\n\n\"Stay,\" Ned commanded him. His voice was grave. He looked at Catelyn. \"What is it? My lady, you're shaking.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid,\" she admitted. She reached out and took the letter in trembling hands. The furs dropped away from her nakedness, forgotten. In the blue wax was the moon-and-falcon seal of House Arryn. \"It's from Lysa.\" Catelyn looked at her husband. \"It will not make us glad,\" she told him. \"There is grief in this message, Ned. I can feel it.\"\n\nNed frowned, his face darkening. \"Open it.\"\n\nCatelyn broke the seal.\n\nHer eyes moved over the words. At first they made no sense to her. Then she remembered. \"Lysa took no chances. When we were girls together, we had a private language, she and I.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Can you read it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Catelyn admitted.\n\n\"Then tell us.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I should withdraw,\" Maester Luwin said.\n\n\"No,\" Catelyn said. \"We will need your counsel.\" She threw back the furs and climbed from the bed. The night air was as cold as the grave on her bare skin as she padded across the room.\n\nMaester Luwin averted his eyes. Even Ned looked shocked. \"What are you doing?\" he asked.\n\n\"Lighting afire,\" Catelyn told him. She found a dressing gown and shrugged into it, then knelt over the cold hearth.\n\n\"Maester Luwin-\" Ned began.\n\n\"Maester Luwin has delivered all my children,\" Catelyn said. \"This is no time for false modesty.\" She slid the paper in among the kindling and placed the heavier logs on top of it.\n\nNed crossed the room, took her by the arm, and pulled her to her feet. He held her there, his face inches from her. \"My lady, tell me! What was this message?\"\n\nCatelyn stiffened in his grasp. \"A warning,\" she said softly. \"If we have the wits to hear.\"\n\nHis eyes searched her face. \"Goon.\"\n\n\"Lysa says Jon Arryn was murdered.\"\n\nHis fingers tightened on her arm. \"By whom?\"\n\n\"The Lannisters,\" she told him. \"The queen.\"\n\nNed released his hold on her arm. There were deep red marks on her skin. \"Gods,\" he whispered. His voice was hoarse. \"Your sister is sick with grief. She cannot know what she is saying.\""
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She knows,\" Catelyn said. \"Lysa is impulsive, yes, but this message was carefully planned, cleverly hidden. She knew it meant death if her letter fell into the wrong hands. To risk so much, she must have had more than mere suspicion.\" Catelyn looked to her husband. \"Now we truly have no choice. You must be Robert's Hand. You must go south with him and learn the truth.\"\n\nShe saw at once that Ned had reached a very different conclusion. \"The only truths I know are here. The south is a nest of adders I would do better to avoid.\"\n\nLuwin plucked at his chain collar where it had chafed the soft skin of his throat. \"The Hand of the King has great power, my lord. Power to find the truth of Lord Arryn's death, to bring his killers to the king's justice. Power to protect Lady Arryn and her son, if the worst be true.\"\n\nNed glanced helplessly around the bedchamber. Catelyn's heart went out to him, but she knew she could not take him in her arms just then. First the victory must be won, for her children's sake. \"You say you love Robert like a brother. Would you leave your brother surrounded by Lannisters?\"\n\n\"The Others take both of you,\" Ned muttered darkly. He turned away from them and went to the window. She did not speak, nor did the maester. They waited, quiet, while Eddard Stark said a silent farewell to the home he loved. When he turned away from the window at last, his voice was tired and full of melancholy, and moisture glittered faintly in the corners of his eyes. \"My father went south once, to answer the summons of a king. He never came home again.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A different time,\" Maester Luwin said. \"A different king.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Ned said dully. He seated himself in a chair by the hearth. \"Catelyn, you shall stay herein Winterfell.\"\n\nHis words were like an icy draft through her heart. \"No,\" she said, suddenly afraid. Was this to be her punishment? Never to see his face again, nor to feel his arms around her?\n\n\"Yes,\" Ned said, in words that would brook no argument. \"You must govern the north in my stead, while I run Robert's errands. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Robb is fourteen. Soon enough, he will be a man grown. He must learn to rule, and I will not be here for him. Make him part of your councils. He must be ready when his time comes.\"\n\n\"Gods will, not for many years,\" Maester Luwin murmured.\n\n\"Maester Luwin, I trust you as I would my own blood. Give my wife your voice in all things great and small. Teach my son the things he needs to know. Winter is coming.\"\n\nMaester Luwin nodded gravely. Then silence fell, until Catelyn found her courage and asked the question whose answer she most dreaded. \"What of the other children?\"\n\nNed stood, and took her in his arms, and held her face close to his. \"Rickon is very young,\" he said gently. \"He should stay herewith you and Robb. The others I would take with me.\"\n\n\"I could not bear it,\" Catelyn said, trembling.\n\n\"You must,\" he said. \"Sansa must wed Joffrey, that is clear now, we must give them no grounds to suspect our devotion. And it is past time that Arya learned the ways of a southron court. Ina few years she will be of an age to marry too.\""
}
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[
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"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 9"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A different time,\" Maester Luwin said. \"A different king.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Ned said dully. He seated himself in a chair by the hearth. \"Catelyn, you shall stay herein Winterfell.\"\n\nHis words were like an icy draft through her heart. \"No,\" she said, suddenly afraid. Was this to be her punishment? Never to see his face again, nor to feel his arms around her?\n\n\"Yes,\" Ned said, in words that would brook no argument. \"You must govern the north in my stead, while I run Robert's errands. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Robb is fourteen. Soon enough, he will be a man grown. He must learn to rule, and I will not be here for him. Make him part of your councils. He must be ready when his time comes.\"\n\n\"Gods will, not for many years,\" Maester Luwin murmured.\n\n\"Maester Luwin, I trust you as I would my own blood. Give my wife your voice in all things great and small. Teach my son the things he needs to know. Winter is coming.\"\n\nMaester Luwin nodded gravely. Then silence fell, until Catelyn found her courage and asked the question whose answer she most dreaded. \"What of the other children?\"\n\nNed stood, and took her in his arms, and held her face close to his. \"Rickon is very young,\" he said gently. \"He should stay herewith you and Robb. The others I would take with me.\"\n\n\"I could not bear it,\" Catelyn said, trembling.\n\n\"You must,\" he said. \"Sansa must wed Joffrey, that is clear now, we must give them no grounds to suspect our devotion. And it is past time that Arya learned the ways of a southron court. Ina few years she will be of an age to marry too.\""
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sansa would shine in the south, Catelyn thought to herself, and the gods knew that Arya needed refinement. Reluctantly, she let goof them in her heart. But not Bran. Never Bran. \"Yes,\" she said, \"but please, Ned, for the love you bear me, let Bran remain here at Winterfell. He is only seven.\"\n\n\"I was eight when my father sent me to foster at the Eyrie,\" Ned said. \"Ser Rodrik tells me there is bad feeling between Robb and Prince Joffrey. That is not healthy. Bran can bridge that distance. He is a sweet boy, quick to laugh, easy to love. Let him grow up with the young princes, let him become their friend as Robert became mine. Our House will be the safer for it.\"\n\nHe was right; Catelyn knew it. It did not make the pain any easier to bear. She would lose all four of them, then: Ned, and both girls, and her sweet, loving Bran. Only Robb and little Rickon would be left to her. She felt lonely already. Winterfell was such avast place. \"Keep him off the walls, then,\" she said bravely. \"You know how Bran loves to climb.\"\n\nNed kissed the tears from her eyes before they could fall. \"Thank you, my lady,\" he whispered. \"This is hard, I know.\"\n\n\"What of Jon Snow, my lord?\" Maester Luwin asked.\n\nCatelyn tensed at the mention of the name. Ned felt the anger in her, and pulled away.\n\nMany men fathered bastards. Catelyn had grownup with that knowledge. It came as no surprise to her, in the first year of her marriage, to learn that Ned had fathered a child on some girl chance met on campaign. He had a man's needs, after all, and they had spent that year apart, Ned off at war in the south while she remained safe in her father's castle at Riverrun. Her thoughts were more of Robb, the infant at her breast, than of the husband she scarcely knew. He was welcome to whatever solace he might find between battles. And if his seed quickened, she expected he would see to the child's needs."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "He did more than that."
},
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"value": "The Starks were not like other men. Ned brought his bastard home with him, and called him'son\" for all the north to see. When the wars were over at last, and Catelyn rode to Winterfell, Jon and his wet nurse had already taken up residence.\n\nThat cut deep. Ned would not speak of the mother, not so much as a word, but a castle has no secrets, and Catelyn heard her maids repeating tales they heard from the lips of her husband's soldiers. They whispered of Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, deadliest of the seven knights of Aerys's Kingsguard, and of how their young lord had slain him in single combat. And they told how afterward Ned had carried Ser Arthur's sword back to the beautiful young sister who awaited him in a castle called Starfall on the shores of the Summer Sea. The Lady Ashara Dayne, tall and fair, with haunting violet eyes. It had taken her a fortnight to marshal her courage, but finally, in bed one night, Catelyn had asked her husband the truth of it, asked him to his face.\n\nThat was the only time in all their years that Ned had ever frightened her. \"Never ask me about Jon,\" he said, cold as ice. \"He is my blood, and that is all you need to know. And now I will learn where you heard that name, my lady.\" She had pledged to obey; she told him; and from that day on, the whispering had stopped, and Ashara Dayne's name was never heard in Winterfell again.\n\nWhoever Jon's mother had been, Ned must have loved her fiercely, for nothing Catelyn said would persuade him to send the boy away. It was the one thing she could never forgive him. She had come to love her husband with all her heart, but she had never found it in her to love Jon. She might have overlooked a dozen bastards for Ned's sake, so long as they were out of sight. Jon was never out of sight, and as he grew, he looked more like Ned than any of the trueborn sons she bore him. Somehow that made it worse. \"Jon must go,\" she said now."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He and Robb are close,\" Ned said. \"I had hoped...\"\n\n\"He cannot stay here,\" Catelyn said, cutting him off. \"He is your son, not mine. I will not have him.\" It was hard, she knew, but no less the truth. Ned would do the boy no kindness by leaving him here at Winterfell.\n\nThe look Ned gave her was anguished. \"You know I cannot take him south. There will be no place for him at court. A boy with a bastard's name... you know what they will say of him. He will be shunned.\"\n\nCatelyn armored her heart against the mute appeal in her husband's eyes. \"They say your friend Robert has fathered a dozen bastards himself.\"\n\n\"And none of them has ever been seen at court!\" Ned blazed. \"The Lannister woman has seen to that. How can you be so damnably cruel, Catelyn? He is only a boy. He-\"\n\nHis fury was on him. He might have said more, and worse, but Maester Luwin cut in. \"Another solution presents itself,\" he said, his voice quiet. \"Your brother Benjen came tome about Jon a few days ago. It seems the boy aspires to take the black.\"\n\nNed looked shocked. \"He asked to join the Night's Watch?\"\n\nCatelyn said nothing. Let Ned work it out in his own mind; her voice would not be welcome now. Yet gladly would she have kissed the maester just then. His was the perfect solution. Benjen Stark was a Sworn Brother. Jon would be a son to him, the child he would never have. And in time the boy would take the oath as well. He would father no sons who might someday contest with Catelyn's own grandchildren for Winterfell."
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Maester Luwin said, \"There is great honor in service on the Wall, my lord.\"\n\n\"And even a bastard may rise high in the Night's Watch,\" Ned reflected. Still, his voice was troubled. \"Jon is so young. If he asked this when he was a man grown, that would be one thing, but a boy of fourteen...\"\n\n\"A hard sacrifice,\" Maester Luwin agreed. \"Yet these are hard times, my lord. His road is no crueler than yours or your lady's.\"\n\nCatelyn thought of the three children she must lose. It was not easy keeping silent then.\n\nNed turned away from them to gaze out the window, his long face silent and thoughtful. Finally he sighed, and turned back. \"Very well,\" he said to Maester Luwin. \"I suppose it is for the best. I will speak to Ben.\"\n\n\"When shall we tell Jon?\" the maester asked.\n\n\"When I must. Preparations must be made. It will be a fortnight before we are ready to depart. I would sooner let Jon enjoy these last few days. Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well. When the time comes, I will tell him myself.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A rya's stitches were crooked again.\n\nShe frowned down at them with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa sat among the other girls. Sansa's needlework was exquisite. Everyone said so. \"Sansa's work is as pretty as she is,\" Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. \"She has such fine, delicate hands.\" When Lady Catelyn had asked about Arya, the septa had sniffed. \"Arya has the hands of a blacksmith.\"\n\nArya glanced furtively across the room, worried that Septa Mordane might have read her thoughts, but the septa was paying her no attention today. She was sitting with the Princess Myrcella, all smiles and admiration. It was not often that the septa was privileged to instruct a royal princess in the womanly arts, as she had said when the queen brought Myrcella to join them. Arya thought that Myrcella's stitches looked a little crooked too, but you would never know it from the way Septa Mordane was cooing.\n\nShe studied her own work again, looking for someway to salvage it, then sighed and put down the needle. She looked glumly at her sister. Sansa was chatting away happily as she worked. Beth Cassel, Ser Rodrik's little girl, was sitting by her feet, listening to every word she said, and Jeyne Poole was leaning over to whisper something in her ear.\n\n\"What are you talking about?\" Arya asked suddenly.\n\nJeyne gave her a startled look, then giggled. Sansa looked abashed. Beth blushed. No one answered.\n\n\"Tell me,\" Arya said.\n\nJeyne glanced over to make certain that Septa Mordane was not listening. Myrcella said something then, and the septa laughed along with the rest of the ladies."
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"value": "\"We were talking about the prince,\" Sansa said, her voice soft as a kiss.\n\nArya knew which prince she meant: Joffrey, of course. The tall, handsome one. Sansa got to sit with him at the feast. Arya had to sit with the little fat one. Naturally.\n\n\"Joffrey likes your sister,\" Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's dearest friend. \"He told her she was very beautiful.\"\n\n\"He's going to marry her,\" little Beth said dreamily, hugging herself. \"Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm.\"\n\nSansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment. \"Beth, you shouldn't makeup stories,\" Sansa corrected the younger girl, gently stroking her hair to take the harshness out of her words. She looked at Arya. \"What did you think of Prince Joff, sister? He's very gallant, don't you think?\"\n\n\"Jon says he looks like a girl,\" Arya said.\n\nSansa sighed as she stitched. \"Poor Jon,\" she said. \"He gets jealous because he's a bastard.\"\n\n\"He's our brother,\" Arya said, much too loudly. Her voice cut through the afternoon quiet of the tower room.\n\nSepta Mordane raised her eyes. She had a bony face, sharp eyes, and a thin lipless mouth made for frowning. It was frowning now. \"What are you talking about, children?\"\n\n\"Our half brother,\" Sansa corrected, soft and precise. She smiled for the septa. \"Arya and I were remarking on how pleased we were to have the princess with us today,\" she said."
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"value": "Septa Mordane nodded. \"Indeed. A great honor for us all.\" Princess Myrcella smiled uncertainly at the compliment. \"Arya, why aren't you at work?\" the septa asked. She rose to her feet, starched skirts rustling as she started across the room. \"Let me see your stitches.\"\n\nArya wanted to scream. It was just like Sansa to go and attract the septa's attention. \"Here,\" she said, surrendering up her work.\n\nThe septa examined the fabric. \"Arya, Arya, Arya,\" she said. \"This will not do. This will not do at all.\"\n\nEveryone was looking at her. It was too much. Sansa was too well bred to smile at her sister's disgrace, but Jeyne was smirking on her behalf. Even Princess Myrcella looked sorry for her. Arya felt tears filling her eyes. She pushed herself out of her chair and bolted for the door.\n\nSepta Mordane called after her. \"Arya, comeback here! Don't you take another step! Your lady mother will hear of this. In front of our royal princess too! You'll shame us all!\"\n\nArya stopped at the door and turned back, biting her lip. The tears were running down her cheeks now. She managed a stiff little bow to Myrcella. \"By your leave, my lady.\"\n\nMyrcella blinked at her and looked to her ladies for guidance. But if she was uncertain, Septa Mordane was not. \"Just where do you think you are going, Arya?\" the septa demanded.\n\nArya glared at her. \"I have to go shoe a horse,\" she said sweetly, taking a brief satisfaction in the shock on the septa's face. Then she whirled and made her exit, running down the steps as fast as her feet would take her."
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"value": "It wasn't fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household. Sansa had never had much of ahead for figures. If she did marry Prince Joff, Arya hoped for his sake that he had a good steward.\n\nNymeria was waiting for her in the guardroom at the base of the stairs. She bounded to her feet as soon as she caught sight of Arya. Arya grinned. The wolf pup loved her, even if no one else did. They went everywhere together, and Nymeria slept in her room, at the foot of her bed. If Mother had not forbidden it, Arya would gladly have taken the wolf with her to needlework. Let Septa Mordane complain about her stitches then.\n\nNymeria nipped eagerly at her hand as Arya untied her. She had yellow eyes. When they caught the sunlight, they gleamed like two golden coins. Arya had named her after the warrior queen of the Rhoyne, who had led her people across the narrow sea. That had been a great scandal too. Sansa, of course, had named her pup'Lady.\" Arya made a face and hugged the wolfling tight. Nymeria licked her ear, and she giggled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "By now Septa Mordane would certainly have sent word to her lady mother."
},
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"value": "If she went to her room, they would find her. Arya did not care to be found. She had a better notion. The boys were at practice in the yard. She wanted to see Robb put gallant Prince Joffrey flat on his back. \"Come,\" she whispered to Nymeria. She got up and ran, the wolf coming hard at her heels.\n\nThere was a window in the covered bridge between the armory and the Great Keep where you had a view of the whole yard. That was where they headed.\n\nThey arrived, flushed and breathless, to find Jon seated on the sill, one leg drawn up languidly to his chin. He was watching the action, so absorbed that he seemed unaware of her approach until his white wolf moved to meet them. Nymeria stalked closer on wary feet. Ghost, already larger than his litter mates, smelled her, gave her ear a careful nip, and settled back down.\n\nJon gave her a curious look. \"Shouldn't you be working on your stitches, little sister?\"\n\nArya made a face at him. \"I wanted to see them fight.\"\n\nHe smiled. \"Come here, then.\"\n\nArya climbed upon the window and sat beside him, to a chorus of thuds and grunts from the yard below.\n\nTo her disappointment, it was the younger boys drilling. Bran was so heavily padded he looked as though he had belted on a featherbed, and Prince Tommen, who was plump to begin with, seemed positively round. They were huffing and puffing and hitting at each other with padded wooden swords under the watchful eye of old Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master-at-arms, a great stout keg of a man with magnificent white cheek whiskers. A dozen spectators, man and boy, were calling out encouragement, Robb's voice the loudest among them. She spotted Theon Greyjoy beside him, his black doublet emblazoned with the golden kraken of his House, a look of wry contempt on his face. Both of the combatants were staggering. Arya judged that they had been at it awhile."
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"value": "\"A shade more exhausting than needlework,\" Jon observed.\n\n\"A shade more fun than needlework,\" Arya gave back at him. Jon grinned, reached over, and messed up her hair. Arya flushed. They had always been close. Jon had their father's face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It had been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her.\n\n\"Why aren't you down in the yard?\" Arya asked him.\n\nHe gave her a half smile. \"Bastards are not allowed to damage young princes,\" he said. \"Any bruises they take in the practice yard must come from trueborn swords.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Arya felt abashed. She should have realized. For the second time today, Arya reflected that life was not fair.\n\nShe watched her little brother whack at Tommen. \"I could do just as good as Bran,\" she said. \"He's only seven. I'm nine.\"\n\nJon looked her over with all his fourteen-year-old wisdom. \"You're too skinny,\" he said. He took her arm to feel her muscle. Then he sighed and shook his head. \"I doubt you could even lift a longsword, little sister, never mind swing one.\"\n\nArya snatched back her arm and glared at him. Jon messed up her hair again. They watched Bran and Tommen circle each other.\n\n\"You see Prince Joffrey?\" Jon asked.\n\nShe hadn't, not at first glance, but when she looked again she found him to the back, under the shade of the high stonewall. He was surrounded by men she did not recognize, young squires in the livery of Lannister and Baratheon, strangers all. There were a few older men among them; knights, she surmised."
},
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"value": "\"Look at the arms on his surcoat,\" Jon suggested.\n\nArya looked. An ornate shield had been embroidered on the prince's padded surcoat. No doubt the needlework was exquisite. The arms were divided down the middle; on one side was the crowned stag of the royal House, on the other the lion of Lannister.\n\n\"The Lannisters are proud,\" Jon observed. \"You'd think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother's House equal in honor to the king's.\"\n\n\"The woman is important too!\" Arya protested.\n\nJon chuckled. \"Perhaps you should do the same thing, little sister. Wed Tully to Stark in your arms.\"\n\n\"A wolf with a fish in its mouth?\" It made her laugh. \"That would look silly. Besides, if a girl can't fight, why should she have a coat of arms?\"\n\nJon shrugged. \"Girls get the arms but not the swords. Bastards get the swords but not the arms. I did not make the rules, little sister.\"\n\nThere was a shout from the courtyard below. Prince Tommen was rolling in the dust, trying to getup and failing. All the padding made him look like a turtle on its back. Bran was standing over him with upraised wooden sword, ready to whack him again once he regained his feet. The men began to laugh.\n\n\"Enough!\" Ser Rodrik called out. He gave the prince a hand and yanked him back to his feet. \"Well fought. Lew, Donnis, help them out of their armor.\" He looked around. \"Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go another round?\"\n\nRobb, already sweaty from a previous bout, moved forward eagerly. \"Gladly.\""
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"value": "Joffrey moved into the sunlight in response to Rodrik's summons. His hair shone like spun gold. He looked bored. \"This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik.\"\n\nTheon Greyjoy gave a sudden bark of laughter. \"You are children,\" he said derisively.\n\n\"Robb maybe a child,\" Joffrey said. \"I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword.\"\n\n\"You got more swats than you gave, Joff,\" Robb said. \"Are you afraid?\"\n\nPrince Joffrey looked at him. \"Oh, terrified,\" he said. \"You're so much older.\" Some of the Lannister men laughed.\n\nJon looked down on the scene with a frown. \"Joffrey is truly a little shit,\" he told Arya.\n\nSer Rodrik tugged thoughtfully at his white whiskers. \"What are you suggesting?\" he asked the prince.\n\n\"Live steel.\"\n\n\"Done,\" Robb shot back. \"You'll be sorry!\"\n\nThe master-at-arms put a hand on Robb's shoulder to quiet him. \"Live steel is too dangerous. I will permit you tourney swords, with blunted edges.\"\n\nJoffrey said nothing, but a man strange to Arya, a tall knight with black hair and burn scars on his face, pushed forward in front of the prince. \"This is your prince. Who are you to tell him he may not have an edge on his sword, ser?\"\n\n\"Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it.\"\n\n\"Are you training women here?\" the burned man wanted to know. He was muscled like a bull."
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am training knights,\" Ser Rodrik said pointedly. \"They will have steel when they are ready. When they are of an age.\"\n\nThe burned man looked at Robb. \"How old are you, boy?\"\n\n\"Fourteen,\" Robb said.\n\n\"I killed a man at twelve. You can be sure it was not with a blunt sword.\"\n\nArya could see Robb bristle. His pride was wounded. He turned on Ser Rodrik. \"Let me do it. I can beat him.\"\n\n\"Beat him with a tourney blade, then,\" Ser Rodrik said.\n\nJoffrey shrugged. \"Come and see me when you're older, Stark. If you're not too old.\" There was laughter from the Lannister men.\n\nRobb's curses rang through the yard. Arya covered her mouth in shock. Theon Greyjoy seized Robb's arm to keep him away from the prince. Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers in dismay.\n\nJoffrey feigned a yawn and turned to his younger brother. \"Come, Tommen,\" he said. \"The hour of play is done. Leave the children to their frolics.\"\n\nThat brought more laughter from the Lannisters, more curses from Robb. Ser Rodrik's face was beet-red with fury under the white of his whiskers. Theon kept Robb locked in an iron grip until the princes and their party were safely away.\n\nJon watched them leave, and Arya watched Jon. His face had grown as still as the pool at the heart of the godswood. Finally he climbed down off the window. \"The show is done,\" he said. He bent to scratch Ghost behind the ears. The white wolf rose and rubbed against him. \"You had best run back to your room, little sister. Septa Mordane will surely be lurking. The longer you hide, the sterner the penance. You'll be sewing all through winter. When the spring thaw comes, they will find your body with a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya didn't think it was funny. \"I hate needlework!\" she said with passion. \"It's not fair!\"\n\n\"Nothing is fair,\" Jon said. He messed up her hair again and walked away from her, Ghost moving silently beside him. Nymeria started to follow too, then stopped and came back when she saw that Arya was not coming.\n\nReluctantly she turned in the other direction.\n\nIt was worse than Jon had thought. It wasn't Septa Mordane waiting in her room. It was Septa Mordane and her mother."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The hunt left at dawn. The king wanted wild boar at the feast tonight. Prince Joffrey rode with his father, so Robb had been allowed to join the hunters as well. Uncle Benjen, Jory, Theon Greyjoy, Ser Rodrik, and even the queen's funny little brother had all ridden outwith them. It was the last hunt, after all. On the morrow they left for the south.\n\nBran had been left behind with Jon and the girls and Rickon. But Rickon was only a baby and the girls were only girls and Jon and his wolf were nowhere to be found. Bran did not look for him very hard. He thought Jon was angry at him. Jon seemed to be angry at everyone these days. Bran did not know why. He was going with Uncle Ben to the Wall, to join the Night's Watch. That was almost as good as going south with the king. Robb was the one they were leaving behind, not Jon.\n\nFor days, Bran could scarcely wait to be off. He was going to ride the kingsroad on a horse of his own, not a pony but areal horse. His father would be the Hand of the King, and they were going to live in the red castle at King's Landing, the castle the Dragonlords had built. Old Nan said there were ghosts there, and dungeons where terrible things had been done, and dragon heads on the walls. It gave Bran a shiver just to think of it, but he was not afraid. How could he be afraid? His father would be with him, and the king with all his knights and sworn swords.\n\nBran was going to be a knight himself someday, one of the Kingsguard. Old Nan said they were the finest swords in all the realm. There were only seven of them, and they wore white armor and had no wives or children, but lived only to serve the king. Bran knew all the stories. Their names were like music to him. Serwyn of the Mirror Shield. Ser Ryam Redwyne. Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. The twins Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk, who had died on one another's swords hundreds of years ago, when brother fought sister in the war the singers called the Dance of the Dragons. The White Bull, Gerold Hightower. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Barristan the Bold."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Two of the Kingsguard had come north with King Robert. Bran had watched them with fascination, never quite daring to speak to them. Ser Boros was a bald man with a jowly face, and Ser Meryn had droopy eyes and a beard the color of rust. Ser Jaime Lannister looked more like the knights in the stories, and he was of the Kingsguard too, but Robb said he had killed the old mad king and shouldn't count anymore. The greatest living knight was Ser Barristan Selmy, Barristan the Bold, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Father had promised that they would meet Ser Barristan when they reached King's Landing, and Bran had been marking the days on his wall, eager to depart, to see a world he had only dreamed of and begin a life he could scarcely imagine.\n\nYet now that the last day was at hand, suddenly Bran felt lost. Winterfell had been the only home he had ever known. His father had told him that he ought to say his farewells today, and he had tried. After the hunt had ridden out, he wandered through the castle with his wolf at his side, intending to visit the ones who would be left behind, Old Nan and Gage the cook, Mikken in his smithy, Hodor the stableboy who smiled so much and took care of his pony and never said anything but'Hodor,\" the man in the glass gardens who gave him a blackberry when he came to visit...\n\nBut it was no good. He had gone to the stable first, and seen his pony therein its stall, except it wasn't his pony anymore, he was getting areal horse and leaving the pony behind, and all of a sudden Bran just wanted to sit down and cry. He turned and ran off before Hodor and the other stableboys could seethe tears in his eyes. That was the end of his farewells. Instead Bran spent the morning alone in the godswood, trying to teach his wolf to fetch a stick, and failing. The wolfling was smarter than any of the hounds in his father's kennel and Bran would have sworn he understood every word that was said to him, but he showed very little interest in chasing sticks."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was still trying to decide on a name. Robb was calling his Grey Wind, because he ran so fast. Sansa had named hers Lady, and Arya named hers after some old witch queen in the songs, and little Rickon called his Shaggydog, which Bran thought was a pretty stupid name fora direwolf. Jon's wolf, the white one, was Ghost. Bran wished he had thought of that first, even though his wolf wasn't white. He had tried a hundred names in the last fortnight, but none of them sounded right.\n\nFinally he got tired of the stick game and decided to go climbing. He hadn't been up to the broken tower for weeks with everything that had happened, and this might be his last chance.\n\nHe raced across the godswood, taking the long way around to avoid the pool where the heart tree grew. The heart tree had always frightened him; trees ought not have eyes, Bran thought, or leaves that looked like hands. His wolf came sprinting at his heels. \"You stay here,\" he told him at the base of the sentinel tree near the armory wall. \"Lie down. That's right. Now stay.\"\n\nThe wolf did as he was told. Bran scratched him behind the ears, then turned away, jumped, grabbed a low branch, and pulled himself up. He was halfway up the tree, moving easily from limb to limb, when the wolf got to his feet and began to howl.\n\nBran looked back down. His wolf fell silent, staring up at him through slitted yellow eyes. A strange chill went through him. He began to climb again. Once more the wolf howled. \"Quiet,\" he yelled. \"Sit down. Stay. You're worse than Mother.\" The howling chased him all the way up the tree, until finally he jumped off onto the armory roof and out of sight."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The rooftops of Winterfell were Bran's second home. His mother often said that Bran could climb before he could walk. Bran could not remember when he first learned to walk, but he could not remember when he started to climb either, so he supposed it must be true.\n\nTo a boy, Winterfell was a grey stone labyrinth of walls and towers and courtyards and tunnels spreading out in all directions. In the older parts of the castle, the halls slanted up and down so that you couldn't even be sure what floor you were on. The place had grown over the centuries like some monstrous stone tree, Maester Luwin told him once, and its branches were gnarled and thick and twisted, its roots sunk deep into the earth.\n\nWhen he got out from under it and scrambled up near the sky, Bran could see all of Winterfell in a glance. He liked the way it looked, spread out beneath him, only birds wheeling over his head while all the life of the castle went on below. Bran could perch for hours among the shapeless, rain-worn gargoyles that brooded over the First Keep, watching it all: the men drilling with wood and steel in the yard, the cooks tending their vegetables in the glass garden, restless dogs running back and forth in the kennels, the silence of the godswood, the girls gossiping beside the washing well. It made him feel like he was lord of the castle, in away even Robb would never know.\n\nIt taught him Winterfell's secrets too. The builders had not even leveled the earth; there were hills and valleys behind the walls of Winterfell. There was a covered bridge that went from the fourth floor of the bell tower across to the second floor of the rookery. Bran knew about that. And he knew you could get inside the inner wall by the south gate, climb three floors and run all the way around Winterfell through a narrow tunnel in the stone, and then come out on ground level at the north gate, with a hundred feet of wall looming over you. Even Maester Luwin didn't know that, Bran was convinced."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His mother was terrified that one day Bran would slip off a wall and kill himself. He told her that he wouldn't, but she never believed him. Once she made him promise that he would stay on the ground. He had managed to keep that promise for almost a fortnight, miserable everyday, until one night he had gone out the window of his bedroom when his brothers were fast asleep.\n\nHe confessed his crime the next day in a fit of guilt. Lord Eddard ordered him to the godswood to cleanse himself. Guards were posted to see that Bran remained there alone all night to reflect on his disobedience. The next morning Bran was nowhere to be seen. They finally found him fast asleep in the upper branches of the tallest sentinel in the grove.\n\nAs angry as he was, his father could not help but laugh. \"You're not my son,\" he told Bran when they fetched him down, \"you're a squirrel. So be it. If you must climb, then climb, but try not to let your mother see you.\"\n\nBran did his best, although he did not think he ever really fooled her. Since his father would not forbid it, she turned to others. Old Nan told him a story about a bad little boy who climbed too high and was struck down by lightning, and how afterward the crows came to peck out his eyes. Bran was not impressed. There were crows' nests atop the broken tower, where no one ever went but him, and sometimes he filled his pockets with corn before he climbed up there and the crows ate it right out of his hand. None of them had ever shown the slightest bit of interest in pecking out his eyes.\n\nLater, Maester Luwin built a little pottery boy and dressed him in Bran's clothes and flung him off the wall into the yard below, to demonstrate what would happen to Bran if he fell. That had been fun, but afterward Bran just looked at the maester and said, \"I'm not made of clay. And anyhow, I never fall.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then fora while the guards would chase him whenever they saw him on the roofs, and try to haul him down. That was the best time of all. It was like playing a game with his brothers, except that Bran always won. None of the guards could climb half so well as Bran, not even Jory. Most of the time they never saw him anyway. People never looked up. That was another thing he liked about climbing; it was almost like being invisible.\n\nHe liked how it felt too, pulling himself up a wall stone by stone, fingers and toes digging hard into the small crevices between. He always took off his boots and went barefoot when he climbed; it made him feel as if he had four hands instead of two. He liked the deep, sweet ache it left in the muscles afterward. He liked the way the air tasted way up high, sweet and cold as a winter peach. He liked the birds: the crows in the broken tower, the tiny little sparrows that nested in cracks between the stones, the ancient owl that slept in the dusty loft above the old armory. Bran knew them all.\n\nMost of all, he liked going places that no one else could go, and seeing the grey sprawl of Winterfell in away that no one else ever saw it. It made the whole castle Bran's secret place.\n\nHis favorite haunt was the broken tower. Once it had been a watchtower, the tallest in Winterfell. Along time ago, a hundred years before even his father had been born, a lightning strike had set it afire. The top third of the structure had collapsed inward, and the tower had never been rebuilt. Sometimes his father sent ratters into the base of the tower, to clean out the nests they always found among the jumble of fallen stones and charred and rotten beams. But no one ever got up to the jagged top of the structure now except for Bran and the crows."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He knew two ways to get there. You could climb straight up the side of the tower itself, but the stones were loose, the mortar that held them together long gone to ash, and Bran never liked to put his full weight on them.\n\nThe best way was to start from the godswood, shinny up the tall sentinel, and crossover the armory and the guards hall, leaping roof to roof, barefoot so the guards wouldn't hear you overhead. That brought you up to the blindside of the First Keep, the oldest part of the castle, a squat round fortress that was taller than it looked. Only rats and spiders lived there now but the old stones still made for good climbing. You could go straight up to where the gargoyles leaned out blindly over empty space, and swing from gargoyle to gargoyle, handover hand, around to the north side. From there, if you really stretched, you could reach out and pull yourself over to the broken tower where it leaned close. The last part was the scramble up the blackened stones to the eyrie, no more than ten feet, and then the crows would come round to see if you'd brought any corn.\n\nBran was moving from gargoyle to gargoyle with the ease of long practice when he heard the voices. He was so startled he almost lost his grip. The First Keep had been empty all his life.\n\n\"I do not like it,\" a woman was saying. There was a row of windows beneath him, and the voice was drifting out of the last window on this side. \"You should be the Hand.\"\n\n\"Gods forbid,\" a man's voice replied lazily. \"It's not an honor I'd want. There's far too much work involved.\"\n\nBran hung, listening, suddenly afraid to goon. They might glimpse his feet if he tried to swing by."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Don't you seethe danger this puts us in?\" the woman said. \"Robert loves the manlike a brother.\"\n\n\"Robert can barely stomach his brothers. Not that I blame him. Stannis would be enough to give anyone indigestion.\"\n\n\"Don't play the fool. Stannis and Renly are one thing, and Eddard Stark is quite another. Robert will listen to Stark. Damn them both. I should have insisted that he name you, but I was certain Stark would refuse him.\"\n\n\"We ought to count ourselves fortunate,\" the man said. \"The king might as easily have named one of his brothers, or even Littlefinger, gods help us. Give me honorable enemies rather than ambitious ones, and I'll sleep more easily by night.\"\n\nThey were talking about Father, Bran realized. He wanted to hear more. A few more feet... but they would see him if he swung out in front of the window.\n\n\"We will have to watch him carefully,\" the woman said.\n\n\"I would sooner watch you,\" the man said. He sounded bored. \"Comeback here.\"\n\n\"Lord Eddard has never taken any interest in anything that happened south of the Neck,\" the woman said. \"Never. I tell you, he means to move against us. Why else would he leave the seat of his power?\"\n\n\"A hundred reasons. Duty. Honor. He yearns to write his name large across the book of history, to getaway from his wife, or both. Perhaps he just wants to be warm for once in his life.\"\n\n\"His wife is Lady Arryn's sister. It's a wonder Lysa was not hereto greet us with her accusations.\"\n\nBran looked down. There was a narrow ledge beneath the window, only a few inches wide. He tried to lower himself toward it. Too far. He would never reach."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You fret too much. Lysa Arryn is a frightened cow.\"\n\n\"That frightened cow shared Jon Arryn's bed.\"\n\n\"If she knew anything, she would have gone to Robert before she fled King's Landing.\"\n\n\"When he had already agreed to foster that weakling son of hers at Casterly Rock? I think not. She knew the boy's life would be hostage to her silence. She may grow bolder now that he's safe atop the Eyrie.\"\n\n\"Mothers.\" The man made the word sound like a curse. \"I think birthing does something to your minds. You are all mad.\" He laughed. It was a bitter sound. \"Let Lady Arryn grow as bold as she likes. Whatever she knows, whatever she thinks she knows, she has no proof.\" He paused a moment. \"Or does she?\"\n\n\"Do you think the king will require proof?\" the woman said. \"I tell you, he loves me not.\"\n\n\"And whose fault is that, sweet sister?\"\n\nBran studied the ledge. He could drop down. It was too narrow to land on, but if he could catch hold as he fell past, pull himself up... except that might make a noise, draw them to the window. He was not sure what he was hearing, but he knew it was not meant for his ears.\n\n\"You areas blind as Robert,\" the woman was saying.\n\n\"If you mean I seethe same thing, yes,\" the man said. \"I see a man who would sooner die than betray his king.\"\n\n\"He betrayed one already, or have you forgotten?\" the woman said. \"Oh, I don't deny he's loyal to Robert, that's obvious. What happens when Robert dies and Joff takes the throne? And the sooner that comes to pass, the safer we'll all be. My husband grows more restless everyday. Having Stark beside him will only make him worse. He's still in love with the sister, the insipid little dead sixteen-year-old. How long till he decides to put me aside for some new Lyanna?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bran was suddenly very frightened."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He wanted nothing so much as to go back the way he had come, to find his brothers. Only what would he tell them? He had to get closer, Bran realized. He had to see who was talking.\n\nThe man sighed. \"You should think less about the future and more about the pleasures at hand.\"\n\n\"Stop that!\" the woman said. Bran heard the sudden slap of flesh on flesh, then the man's laughter.\n\nBran pulled himself up, climbed over the gargoyle, crawled out onto the roof. This was the easy way. He moved across the roof to the next gargoyle, right above the window of the room where they were talking.\n\n\"All this talk is getting very tiresome, sister,\" the man said. \"Come here and be quiet.\"\n\nBran sat astride the gargoyle, tightened his legs around it, and swung himself around, upside down. He hung by his legs and slowly stretched his head down toward the window. The world looked strange upside down. A courtyard swam dizzily below him, its stones still wet with melted snow.\n\nBran looked in the window.\n\nInside the room, a man and a woman were wrestling. They were both naked. Bran could not tell who they were. The man's back was to him, and his body screened the woman from view as he pushed her up against a wall.\n\nThere were soft, wet sounds. Bran realized they were kissing. He watched, wide-eyed and frightened, his breath tight in his throat. The man had a hand down between her legs, and he must have been hurting her there, because the woman started to moan, low in her throat. \"Stop it,\" she said, \"stop it, stop it. Oh, please...\" But her voice was low and weak, and she did not push him away. Her hands buried themselves in his hair, his tangled golden hair, and pulled his face down to her breast."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bran saw her face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open, moaning. Her golden hair swung from side to side as her head moved back and forth, but still he recognized the queen.\n\nHe must have made a noise. Suddenly her eyes opened, and she was staring right at him. She screamed.\n\nEverything happened at once then. The woman pushed the man away wildly, shouting and pointing. Bran tried to pull himself up, bending double as he reached for the gargoyle. He was in too much of a hurry. His hand scraped uselessly across smooth stone, and in his panic his legs slipped, and suddenly he was falling. There was an instant of vertigo, a sickening lurch as the window flashed past. He shot out a hand, grabbed for the ledge, lost it, caught it again with his other hand. He swung against the building, hard. The impact took the breath out of him. Bran dangled, one-handed, panting.\n\nFaces appeared in the window above him.\n\nThe queen. And now Bran recognized the man beside her. They looked as much alike as reflections in a mirror.\n\n\"He saw us,\" the woman said shrilly.\n\n\"So he did,\" the man said.\n\nBran's fingers started to slip. He grabbed the ledge with his other hand. Fingernails dug into unyielding stone. The man reached down. \"Take my hand,\" he said. \"Before you fall.\"\n\nBran seized his arm and held on tight with all his strength. The man yanked him up to the ledge. \"What are you doing?\" the woman demanded.\n\nThe man ignored her. He was very strong. He stood Bran upon the sill. \"How old are you, boy?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Seven,\" Bran said, shaking with relief. His fingers had dug deep gouges in the man's forearm. He let go sheepishly.\n\nThe man looked over at the woman. \"The things I do for love,\" he said with loathing. He gave Bran a shove.\n\nScreaming, Bran went backward out the window into empty air. There was nothing to grab onto. The courtyard rushed up to meet him.\n\nSomewhere off in the distance, a wolf was howling. Crows circled the broken tower, waiting for corn."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Somewhere in the great stone maze of Winterfell, a wolf howled. The sound hungover the castle like a flag of mourning.\n\nTyrion Lannister looked up from his books and shivered, though the library was snug and warm. Something about the howling of a wolf took a man right out of his here and now and left him in a dark forest of the mind, running naked before the pack.\n\nWhen the direwolf howled again, Tyrion shut the heavy leather-bound cover on the book he was reading, a hundred-year-old discourse on the changing of the seasons by along-dead maester. He covered a yawn with the back of his hand. His reading lamp was flickering, its oil all but gone, as dawn light leaked through the high windows. He had been at it all night, but that was nothing new. Tyrion Lannister was not much a one for sleeping.\n\nHis legs were stiff and sore as he eased down off the bench. He massaged some life back into them and limped heavily to the table where the septon was snoring softly, his head pillowed on an open book in front of him. Tyrion glanced at the title. A life of the Grand Maester Aethelmure, no wonder. \"Chayle,\" he said softly. The young man jerked up, blinking, confused, the crystal of his order swinging wildly on its silver chain. \"I'm off to break my fast. See that you return the books to the shelves. Be gentle with the Valyrian scrolls, the parchment is very dry. Ayrmidon's Engines of War is quite rare, and yours is the only complete copy I've ever seen.\" Chayle gaped at him, still half-asleep. Patiently, Tyrion repeated his instructions, then clapped the septon on the shoulder and left him to his tasks."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Outside, Tyrion swallowed a lungful of the cold morning air and began his laborious descent of the steep stone steps that corkscrewed around the exterior of the library tower. It was slow going; the steps were cut high and narrow, while his legs were short and twisted. The rising sun had not yet cleared the walls of Winterfell, but the men were already hard at it in the yard below. Sandor Clegane's rasping voice drifted up to him. \"The boy is along time dying. I wish he would be quicker about it.\"\n\nTyrion glanced down and saw the Hound standing with young Joffrey as squires swarmed around them. \"At least he dies quietly,\" the prince replied. \"It's the wolf that makes the noise. I could scarce sleep last night.\"\n\nClegane cast along shadow across the hard-packed earth as his squire lowered the black helm over his head. \"I could silence the creature, if it please you,\" he said through his open visor. His boy placed a longsword in his hand. He tested the weight of it, slicing at the cold morning air. Behind him, the yard rang to the clangor of steel on steel.\n\nThe notion seemed to delight the prince. \"Send a dog to kill a dog!\" he exclaimed. \"Winterfell is so infested with wolves, the Starks would never miss one.\"\n\nTyrion hopped off the last step onto the yard. \"I beg to differ, nephew,\" he said. \"The Starks can count past six. Unlike some princes I might name.\"\n\nJoffrey had the grace at least to blush.\n\n\"A voice from nowhere,\" Sandor said. He peered through his helm, looking this way and that. \"Spirits of the air!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The prince laughed, as he always laughed when his bodyguard did this mummer's farce. Tyrion was used to it. \"Down here.\"\n\nThe tall man peered down at the ground, and pretended to notice him. \"The little lord Tyrion,\" he said. \"My pardons. I did not see you standing there.\"\n\n\"I am in no mood for your insolence today.\" Tyrion turned to his nephew. \"Joffrey, it is past time you called on Lord Eddard and his lady, to offer them your comfort.\"\n\nJoffrey looked as petulant as only a boy prince can look. \"What goodwill my comfort do them?\"\n\n\"None,\" Tyrion said. \"Yet it is expected of you. Your absence has been noted.\"\n\n\"The Stark boy is nothing tome,\" Joffrey said. \"I cannot abide the wailing of women.\"\n\nTyrion Lannister reached up and slapped his nephew hard across the face. The boy's cheek began to redden.\n\n\"One word,\" Tyrion said, \"and I will hit you again.\"\n\n\"I'm going to tell Mother!\" Joffrey exclaimed.\n\nTyrion hit him again. Now both cheeks flamed.\n\n\"You tell your mother,\" Tyrion told him. \"But first you get yourself to Lord and Lady Stark, and you fall to your knees in front of them, and you tell them how very sorry you are, and that you are at their service if there is the slightest thing you can do for them or theirs in this desperate hour, and that all your prayers go with them. Do you understand? Do you?\"\n\nThe boy looked as though he was going to cry. Instead, he managed a weak nod. Then he turned and fled headlong from the yard, holding his cheek. Tyrion watched him run."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A shadow fell across his face. He turned to find Clegane looming overhead like a cliff. His soot-dark armor seemed to blot out the sun. He had lowered the visor on his helm. It was fashioned in the likeness of a snarling black hound, fearsome to behold, but Tyrion had always thought it a great improvement over Clegane's hideously burned face.\n\n\"The prince will remember that, little lord,\" the Hound warned him. The helm turned his laugh into a hollow rumble.\n\n\"I pray he does,\" Tyrion Lannister replied. \"If he forgets, be a good dog and remind him.\" He glanced around the courtyard. \"Do you know where I might find my brother?\"\n\n\"Breaking fast with the queen.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Tyrion said. He gave Sandor Clegane a perfunctory nod and walked away as briskly as his stunted legs would carry him, whistling. He pitied the first knight to try the Hound today. The man did have a temper.\n\nA cold, cheerless meal had been laid out in the morning room of the Guest House. Jaime sat at table with Cersei and the children, talking in low, hushed voices.\n\n\"Is Robert still abed?\" Tyrion asked as he seated himself, uninvited, at the table.\n\nHis sister peered at him with the same expression of faint distaste she had worn since the day he was born. \"The king has not slept at all,\" she told him. \"He is with Lord Eddard. He has taken their sorrow deeply to heart.\"\n\n\"He has a large heart, our Robert,\" Jaime said with a lazy smile. There was very little that Jaime took seriously. Tyrion knew that about his brother, and forgave it. During all the terrible long years of his childhood, only Jaime had ever shown him the smallest measure of affection or respect, and for that Tyrion was willing to forgive him most anything."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A servant approached. \"Bread,\" Tyrion told him, \"and two of those little fish, and a mug of that good dark beer to wash them down. Oh, and some bacon. Burn it until it turns black.\" The man bowed and moved off. Tyrion turned back to his siblings. Twins, male and female. They looked very much the part this morning. Both had chosen a deep green that matched their eyes. Their blond curls were all a fashionable tumble, and gold ornaments shone at wrists and fingers and throats.\n\nTyrion wondered what it would be like to have a twin, and decided that he would rather not know. Bad enough to face himself in a looking glass everyday. Another him was a thought too dreadful to contemplate.\n\nPrince Tommen spoke up. \"Do you have news of Bran, Uncle?\"\n\n\"I stopped by the sickroom last night,\" Tyrion announced. \"There was no change. The maester thought that a hopeful sign.\"\n\n\"I don't want Brandon to die,\" Tommen said timorously. He was a sweet boy. Not like his brother, but then Jaime and Tyrion were somewhat less than peas in a pod themselves.\n\n\"Lord Eddard had a brother named Brandon as well,\" Jaime mused. \"One of the hostages murdered by Targaryen. It seems to bean unlucky name.\"\n\n\"Oh, not so unlucky as all that, surely,\" Tyrion said. The servant brought his plate. He ripped off a chunk of black bread.\n\nCersei was studying him warily. \"What do you mean?\"\n\nTyrion gave her a crooked smile. \"Why, only that Tommen may get his wish. The maester thinks the boy may yet live.\" He took a sip of beer."
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Myrcella gave a happy gasp, and Tommen smiled nervously, but it was not the children Tyrion was watching. The glance that passed between Jaime and Cersei lasted no more than a second, but he did not miss it. Then his sister dropped her gaze to the table. \"That is no mercy. These northern gods are cruel to let the child linger in such pain.\"\n\n\"What were the maester's words?\" Jaime asked.\n\nThe bacon crunched when he bit into it. Tyrion chewed thoughtfully fora moment and said, \"He thinks that if the boy were going to die, he would have done so already. It has been four days with no change.\"\n\n\"Will Bran get better, Uncle?\" little Myrcella asked. She had all of her mother's beauty, and none of her nature.\n\n\"His back is broken, little one,\" Tyrion told her. \"The fall shattered his legs as well. They keep him alive with honey and water, or he would starve to death. Perhaps, if he wakes, he will be able to eat real food, but he will never walk again.\"\n\n\"If he wakes,\" Cersei repeated. \"Is that likely?\"\n\n\"The gods alone know,\" Tyrion told her. \"The maester only hopes.\" He chewed some more bread. \"I would swear that wolf of his is keeping the boy alive. The creature is outside his window day and night, howling. Every time they chase it away, it returns. The maester said they closed the window once, to shutout the noise, and Bran seemed to weaken. When they opened it again, his heartbeat stronger.\"\n\nThe queen shuddered. \"There is something unnatural about those animals,\" she said. \"They are dangerous. I will not have any of them coming south with us.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Jaime said, \"You'll have a hard time stopping them, sister."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "They follow those girls everywhere.\"\n\nTyrion started on his fish. \"Are you leaving soon, then?\"\n\n\"Not near soon enough,\" Cersei said. Then she frowned. \"Are we leaving?\" she echoed. \"What about you? Gods, don't tell me you are staying here?\"\n\nTyrion shrugged. \"Benjen Stark is returning to the Night's Watch with his brother's bastard. I have a mind to go with them and see this Wall we have all heard so much of.\"\n\nJaime smiled. \"I hope you're not thinking of taking the black onus, sweet brother.\"\n\nTyrion laughed. \"What, me, celibate? The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. No, I just want to stand on top of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world.\"\n\nCersei stood abruptly. \"The children don't need to hear this filth. Tommen, Myrcella, come.\" She strode briskly from the morning room, her train and her pups trailing behind her.\n\nJaime Lannister regarded his brother thoughtfully with those cool green eyes. \"Stark will never consent to leave Winterfell with his son lingering in the shadow of death.\"\n\n\"He will if Robert commands it,\" Tyrion said. \"And Robert will command it. There is nothing Lord Eddard can do for the boy in any case.\"\n\n\"He could end his torment,\" Jaime said. \"I would, if it were my son. It would be a mercy.\"\n\n\"I advise against putting that suggestion to Lord Eddard, sweet brother,\" Tyrion said. \"He would not take it kindly.\"\n\n\"Even if the boy does live, he will be a cripple. Worse than a cripple. A grotesque. Give me a good clean death.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "Tyrion replied with a shrug that accentuated the twist of his shoulders. \"Speaking for the grotesques,\" he said, \"I beg to differ. Death is so terribly final, while life is full of possibilities.\"\n\nJaime smiled. \"You area perverse little imp, aren't you?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" Tyrion admitted. \"I hope the boy does wake. I would be most interested to hear what he might have to say.\"\n\nHis brother's smile curdled like sour milk. \"Tyrion, my sweet brother,\" he said darkly, \"there are times when you give me cause to wonder whose side you are on.\"\n\nTyrion's mouth was full of bread and fish. He took a swallow of strong black beer to wash it all down, and grinned up wolfishly at Jaime. \"Why, Jaime, my sweet brother,\" he said, \"you wound me. You know how much I love my family.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "Jon climbed the steps slowly, trying not to think that this might be the last time ever. Ghost padded silently beside him. Outside, snow swirled through the castle gates, and the yard was all noise and chaos, but inside the thick stonewalls it was still warm and quiet. Too quiet for Jon's liking.\n\nHe reached the landing and stood fora long moment, afraid. Ghost nuzzled at his hand. He took courage from that. He straightened, and entered the room.\n\nLady Stark was there beside his bed. She had been there, day and night, for close on a fortnight. Not fora moment had she left Bran's side. She had her meals brought to her there, and chamber pots as well, and a small hard bed to sleep on, though it was said she had scarcely slept at all. She fed him herself, the honey and water and herb mixture that sustained life. Not once did she leave the room. So Jon had stayed away.\n\nBut now there was no more time.\n\nHe stood in the door fora moment, afraid to speak, afraid to come closer. The window was open. Below, a wolf howled. Ghost heard and lifted his head.\n\nLady Stark looked over. Fora moment she did not seem to recognize him. Finally she blinked. \"What are you doing here?\" she asked in a voice strangely flat and emotionless.\n\n\"I came to see Bran,\" Jon said. \"To say good-bye.\"\n\nHer face did not change. Her long auburn hair was dull and tangled. She looked as though she had aged twenty years. \"You've said it. Now go away.\"\n\nPart of him wanted only to flee, but he knew that if he did he might never see Bran again. He took a nervous step into the room. \"Please,\" he said."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Something cold moved in her eyes. \"I told you to leave,\" she said. \"We don't want you here.\"\n\nOnce that would have sent him running. Once that might even have made him cry. Now it only made him angry. He would be a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch soon, and face worse dangers than Catelyn Tully Stark. \"He's my brother,\" he said.\n\n\"Shall I call the guards?\"\n\n\"Call them,\" Jon said, defiant. \"You can't stop me from seeing him.\" He crossed the room, keeping the bed between them, and looked down on Bran where he lay.\n\nShe was holding one of his hands. It looked like a claw. This was not the Bran he remembered. The flesh had all gone from him. His skin stretched tight over bones like sticks. Under the blanket, his legs bent in ways that made Jon sick. His eyes were sunken deep into black pits; open, but they saw nothing. The fall had shrunken him somehow. He looked half a leaf, as if the first strong wind would carry him off to his grave.\n\nYet under the frail cage of those shattered ribs, his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.\n\n\"Bran,\" he said, \"I'm sorry I didn't come before. I was afraid.\" He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks. Jon no longer cared. \"Don't die, Bran. Please. We're all waiting for you to wake up. Me and Robb and the girls, everyone...\"\n\nLady Stark was watching. She had not raised a cry. Jon took that for acceptance. Outside the window, the direwolf howled again. The wolf that Bran had not had time to name.\n\n\"I have to go now,\" Jon said. \"Uncle Benjen is waiting. I'm to go north to the Wall. We have to leave today, before the snows come.\" He remembered how excited Bran had been at the prospect of the journey. It was more than he could bear, the thought of leaving him behind like this. Jon brushed away his tears, leaned over, and kissed his brother lightly on the lips."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I wanted him to stay herewith me,\" Lady Stark said softly.\n\nJon watched her, wary. She was not even looking at him. She was talking to him, but fora part of her, it was as though he were not even in the room.\n\n\"I prayed for it,\" she said dully. \"He was my special boy. I went to the sept and prayed seven times to the seven faces of god that Ned would change his mind and leave him herewith me. Sometimes prayers are answered.\"\n\nJon did not know what to say. \"It wasn't your fault,\" he managed after an awkward silence.\n\nHer eyes found him. They were full of poison. \"I need none of your absolution, bastard.\"\n\nJon lowered his eyes. She was cradling one of Bran's hands. He took the other, squeezed it. Fingers like the bones of birds. \"Good-bye,\" he said.\n\nHe was at the door when she called out to him. \"Jon,\" she said. He should have kept going, but she had never called him by his name before. He turned to find her looking at his face, as if she were seeing it for the first time.\n\n\"Yes?\" he said.\n\n\"It should have been you,\" she told him. Then she turned back to Bran and began to weep, her whole body shaking with the sobs. Jon had never seen her cry before.\n\nIt was along walk down to the yard.\n\nOutside, everything was noise and confusion. Wagons were being loaded, men were shouting, horses were being harnessed and saddled and led from the stables. Alight snow had begun to fall, and everyone was in an uproar to be off.\n\nRobb was in the middle of it, shouting commands with the best of them. He seemed to have grown of late, as if Bran's fall and his mother's collapse had somehow made him stronger. Grey Wind was at his side."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Uncle Benjen is looking for you,\" he told Jon. \"He wanted to begone an hour ago.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Jon said. \"Soon.\" He looked around at all the noise and confusion. \"Leaving is harder than I thought.\"\n\n\"For me too,\" Robb said. He had snow in his hair, melting from the heat of his body. \"Did you see him?\"\n\nJon nodded, not trusting himself to speak.\n\n\"He's not going to die,\" Robb said. \"I know it.\"\n\n\"You Starks are hard to kill,\" Jon agreed. His voice was flat and tired. The visit had taken all the strength from him.\n\nRobb knew something was wrong. \"My mother...\"\n\n\"She was... very kind,\" Jon told him.\n\nRobb looked relieved. \"Good.\" He smiled. \"The next time I see you, you'll be all in black.\"\n\nJon forced himself to smile back. \"It was always my color. How long do you think it will be?\"\n\n\"Soon enough,\" Robb promised. He pulled Jon to him and embraced him fiercely. \"Farewell, Snow.\"\n\nJon hugged him back. \"And you, Stark. Take care of Bran.\"\n\n\"I will.\" They broke apart and looked at each other awkwardly. \"Uncle Benjen said to send you to the stables if I saw you,\" Robb finally said.\n\n\"I have one more farewell to make,\" Jon told him.\n\n\"Then I haven't seen you,\" Robb replied. Jon left him standing therein the snow, surrounded by wagons and wolves and horses. It was a short walk to the armory. He picked up his package and took the covered bridge across to the Keep."
}
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[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In partnership with the author, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 13"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Uncle Benjen is looking for you,\" he told Jon. \"He wanted to begone an hour ago.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Jon said. \"Soon.\" He looked around at all the noise and confusion. \"Leaving is harder than I thought.\"\n\n\"For me too,\" Robb said. He had snow in his hair, melting from the heat of his body. \"Did you see him?\"\n\nJon nodded, not trusting himself to speak.\n\n\"He's not going to die,\" Robb said. \"I know it.\"\n\n\"You Starks are hard to kill,\" Jon agreed. His voice was flat and tired. The visit had taken all the strength from him.\n\nRobb knew something was wrong. \"My mother...\"\n\n\"She was... very kind,\" Jon told him.\n\nRobb looked relieved. \"Good.\" He smiled. \"The next time I see you, you'll be all in black.\"\n\nJon forced himself to smile back. \"It was always my color. How long do you think it will be?\"\n\n\"Soon enough,\" Robb promised. He pulled Jon to him and embraced him fiercely. \"Farewell, Snow.\"\n\nJon hugged him back. \"And you, Stark. Take care of Bran.\"\n\n\"I will.\" They broke apart and looked at each other awkwardly. \"Uncle Benjen said to send you to the stables if I saw you,\" Robb finally said.\n\n\"I have one more farewell to make,\" Jon told him.\n\n\"Then I haven't seen you,\" Robb replied. Jon left him standing therein the snow, surrounded by wagons and wolves and horses. It was a short walk to the armory. He picked up his package and took the covered bridge across to the Keep."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya was in her room, packing a polished ironwood chest that was bigger than she was. Nymeria was helping. Arya would only have to point, and the wolf would bound across the room, snatch up some wisp of silk in her jaws, and fetch it back. But when she smelled Ghost, she sat down on her haunches and yelped at them.\n\nArya glanced behind her, saw Jon, and jumped to her feet. She threw her skinny arms tight around his neck. \"I was afraid you were gone,\" she said, her breath catching in her throat. \"They wouldn't let me out to say good-bye.\"\n\n\"What did you do now?\" Jon was amused.\n\nArya disentangled herself from him and made a face. \"Nothing. I was all packed and everything.\" She gestured at the huge chest, no more than a third full, and at the clothes that were scattered allover the room. \"Septa Mordane says I have to do it allover. My things weren't properly folded, she says. A proper southron lady doesn't just throw her clothes inside her chest like old rags, she says.\"\n\n\"Is that what you did, little sister?\"\n\n\"Well, they're going to get all messed up anyway,\" she said. \"Who cares how they're folded?\"\n\n\"Septa Mordane,\" Jon told her. \"I don't think she'd like Nymeria helping, either.\" The she-wolf regarded him silently with her dark golden eyes. \"It's just as well. I have something for you to take with you, and it has to be packed very carefully.\"\n\nHer face lit up. \"A present?\"\n\n\"You could call it that. Close the door.\""
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Wary but excited, Arya checked the hall. \"Nymeria, here. Guard.\" She left the wolf out thereto warn of intruders and closed the door. By then Jon had pulled off the rags he'd wrapped it in. He held it out to her.\n\nArya's eyes went wide. Dark eyes, like his. \"A sword,\" she said in a small, hushed breath.\n\nThe scabbard was soft grey leather, supple as sin. Jon drew out the blade slowly, so she could seethe deep blue sheen of the steel. \"This is no toy,\" he told her. \"Be careful you don't cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with.\"\n\n\"Girls don't shave,\" Arya said.\n\n\"Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa's legs?\"\n\nShe giggled at him. \"It's so skinny.\"\n\n\"So are you,\" Jon told her. \"I had Mikken make this special. The bravos use swords like this in Pentos and Myr and the other Free Cities. It won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're fast enough.\"\n\n\"I can be fast,\" Arya said.\n\n\"You'll have to work at it everyday.\" He put the sword in her hands, showed her how to hold it, and stepped back. \"How does it feel? Do you like the balance?\"\n\n\"I think so,\" Arya said.\n\n\"First lesson,\" Jon said. \"Stick them with the pointy end.\"\n\nArya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. \"I know which end to use,\" Arya said. A doubtful look crossed her face. \"Septa Mordane will take it away from me.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Not if she doesn't know you have it,\" Jon said.\n\n\"Who will I practice with?\"\n\n\"You'll find someone,\" Jon promised her. \"King's Landing is a true city, a thousand times the size of Winterfell. Until you find a partner, watch how they fight in the yard. Run, and ride, make yourself strong. And whatever you do...\"\n\nArya knew what was coming next. They said it together.\n\n\"... don't... tell... Sansa!\"\n\nJon messed up her hair. \"I will miss you, little sister.\"\n\nSuddenly she looked like she was going to cry. \"I wish you were coming with us.\"\n\n\"Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?\" He was feeling better now. He was not going to let himself be sad. \"I better go. I'll spend my first year on the Wall emptying chamber pots if I keep Uncle Ben waiting any longer.\"\n\nArya ran to him fora last hug. \"Put down the sword first,\" Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses.\n\nWhen he turned back at the door, she was holding it again, trying it for balance. \"I almost forgot,\" he told her. \"All the best swords have names.\"\n\n\"Like Ice,\" she said. She looked at the blade in her hand. \"Does this have a name? Oh, tell me.\"\n\n\"Can't you guess?\" Jon teased. \"Your very favorite thing.\"\n\nArya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together:\n\n\"Needle!\"\n\nThe memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Daenerys Targaryen wed Khal Drogo with fear and barbaric splendor in afield beyond the walls of Pentos, for the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man's life must be done beneath the open sky.\n\nDrogo had called his khalasar to attend him and they had come, forty thousand Dothraki warriors and uncounted numbers of women, children, and slaves. Outside the city walls they camped with their vast herds, raising palaces of woven grass, eating everything insight, and making the good folk of Pentos more anxious with every passing day.\n\n\"My fellow magisters have doubled the size of the city guard,\" Illyrio told them over platters of honey duck and orange snap peppers one night at the manse that had been Drogo's. The khal had joined his khalasar, his estate given over to Daenerys and her brother until the wedding.\n\n\"Best we get Princess Daenerys wedded quickly before they hand half the wealth of Pentos away to sellswords and bravos,\" Ser Jorah Mormont jested. The exile had offered her brother his sword the night Dany had been sold to Khal Drogo; Viserys had accepted eagerly. Mormont had been their constant companion ever since.\n\nMagister Illyrio laughed lightly through his forked beard, but Viserys did not so much as smile. \"He can have her tomorrow, if he likes,\" her brother said. He glanced over at Dany, and she lowered her eyes. \"So long as he pays the price.\"\n\nIllyrio waved a languid hand in the air, rings glittering on his fat fingers. \"I have told you, all is settled. Trust me. The khal has promised you a crown, and you shall have it.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, but when?\"\n\n\"When the khal chooses,\" Illyrio said. \"He will have the girl first, and after they are wed he must make his procession across the plains and present her to the dosh khaleen at Vaes Dothrak. After that, perhaps. If the omens favor war.\"\n\nViserys seethed with impatience. \"I piss on Dothraki omens. The Usurper sits on my father's throne. How long must I wait?\"\n\nIllyrio gave a massive shrug. \"You have waited most of your life, great king. What is another few months, another few years?\"\n\nSer Jorah, who had traveled as far east as Vaes Dothrak, nodded in agreement. \"I counsel you to be patient, Your Grace. The Dothraki are true to their word, but they do things in their own time. A lesser man may beg a favor from the khal, but must never presume to berate him.\"\n\nViserys bristled. \"Guard your tongue, Mormont, or I'll have it out. I am no lesser man, I am the rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. The dragon does not beg.\"\n\nSer Jorah lowered his eyes respectfully. Illyrio smiled enigmatically and tore awing from the duck. Honey and grease ran over his fingers and dripped down into his beard as he nibbled at the tender meat. There are no more dragons, Dany thought, staring at her brother, though she did not daresay it aloud.\n\nYet that night she dreamt of one. Viserys was hitting her, hurting her. She was naked, clumsy with fear. She ran from him, but her body seemed thick and ungainly. He struck her again. She stumbled and fell. \"You woke the dragon,\" he screamed as he kicked her. \"You woke the dragon, you woke the dragon.\" Her thighs were slick with blood. She closed her eyes and whimpered. As if in answer, there was a hideous ripping sound and the crackling of some great fire. When she looked again, Viserys was gone, great columns of flame rose all around, and in the midst of them was the dragon. It turned its great head slowly. When its molten eyes found hers, she woke, shaking and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. She had never been so afraid..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "... until the day of her wedding came at last.\n\nThe ceremony began at dawn and continued until dusk, an endless day of drinking and feasting and fighting. A mighty earthen ramp had been raised amid the grass palaces, and there Dany was seated beside Khal Drogo, above the seething sea of Dothraki. She had never seen so many people in one place, nor people so strange and frightening. The horselords might put on rich fabrics and sweet perfumes when they visited the Free Cities, but out under the open sky they kept the old ways. Men and women alike wore painted leather vests over bare chests and horsehair leggings cinched by bronze medallion belts, and the warriors greased their long braids with fat from the rendering pits. They gorged themselves on horseflesh roasted with honey and peppers, drank themselves blind on fermented mare's milk and Illyrio's fine wines, and spat jests at each other across the fires, their voices harsh and alien in Dany's ears.\n\nViserys was seated just below her, splendid in anew black wool tunic with a scarlet dragon on the chest. Illyrio and Ser Jorah sat beside him. Theirs was a place of high honor, just below the khal's own bloodriders, but Dany could seethe anger in her brother's lilac eyes. He did not like sitting beneath her, and he fumed when the slaves offered each dish first to the khal and his bride, and served him from the portions they refused. He could do nothing but nurse his resentment, so nurse it he did, his mood growing blacker by the hour at each insult to his person.\n\nDany had never felt so alone as she did seated in the midst of that vast horde. Her brother had told her to smile, and so she smiled until her face ached and the tears came unbidden to her eyes. She did her best to hide them, knowing how angry Viserys would be if he saw her crying, terrified of how Khal Drogo might react. Food was brought to her, steaming joints of meat and thick black sausages and Dothraki blood pies, and later fruits and sweetgrass stews and delicate pastries from the kitchens of Pentos, but she waved it all away. Her stomach was a roil, and she knew she could keep none of it down."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was no one to talk to. Khal Drogo shouted commands and jests down to his bloodriders, and laughed at their replies, but he scarcely glanced at Dany beside him. They had no common language. Dothraki was incomprehensible to her, and the khal knew only a few words of the bastard Valyrian of the Free Cities, and none at all of the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms. She would even have welcomed the conversation of Illyrio and her brother, but they were too far below to hear her.\n\nSo she satin her wedding silks, nursing a cup of honeyed wine, afraid to eat, talking silently to herself. I am blood of the dragon, she told herself. I am Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone, of the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror.\n\nThe sun was only a quarter of the way up the sky when she saw her first man die. Drums were beating as some of the women danced for the khal. Drogo watched without expression, but his eyes followed their movements, and from time to time he would toss down a bronze medallion for the women to fight over.\n\nThe warriors were watching too. One of them finally stepped into the circle, grabbed a dancer by the arm, pushed her down to the ground, and mounted her right there, as a stallion mounts a mare. Illyrio had told her that might happen. \"The Dothraki mate like the animals in their herds. There is no privacy in a khalasar, and they do not understand sin or shame as we do.\"\n\nDany looked away from the coupling, frightened when she realized what was happening, but a second warrior stepped forward, and a third, and soon there was noway to avert her eyes. Then two men seized the same woman. She heard a shout, saw a shove, and in the blink of an eye the arakhs were out, long razor-sharp blades, half sword and half scythe. A dance of death began as the warriors circled and slashed, leaping toward each other, whirling the blades around their heads, shrieking insults at each clash. No one made a move to interfere."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It ended as quickly as it began. The arakhs shivered together faster than Dany could follow, one man missed a step, the other swung his blade in a flat arc. Steel bit into flesh just above the Dothraki's waist, and opened him from backbone to bellybutton, spilling his entrails into the dust. As the loser died, the winner took hold of the nearest woman-not even the one they had been quarreling over-and had her there and then. Slaves carried off the body, and the dancing resumed.\n\nMagister Illyrio had warned Dany about this too. \"A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is deemed a dull affair,\" he had said. Her wedding must have been especially blessed; before the day was over, a dozen men had died.\n\nAs the hours passed, the terror grew in Dany, until it was all she could do not to scream. She was afraid of the Dothraki, whose ways seemed alien and monstrous, as if they were beasts inhuman skins and not true men at all. She was afraid of her brother, of what he might do if she failed him. Most of all, she was afraid of what would happen tonight under the stars, when her brother gave her up to the hulking giant who sat drinking beside her with a face as still and cruel as a bronze mask.\n\nI am the blood of the dragon, she told herself again.\n\nWhen at last the sun was low in the sky, Khal Drogo clapped his hands together, and the drums and the shouting and feasting came to a sudden halt. Drogo stood and pulled Dany to her feet beside him. It was time for her bride gifts.\n\nAnd after the gifts, she knew, after the sun had gone down, it would be time for the first ride and the consummation of her marriage. Dany tried to put the thought aside, but it would not leave her. She hugged herself to try to keep from shaking."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her brother Viserys gifted her with three handmaids. Dany knew they had cost him nothing; Illyrio no doubt had provided the girls. Irri and Jhiqui were copper-skinned Dothraki with black hair and almond-shaped eyes, Doreah a fair-haired, blue-eyed Lysene girl. \"These are no common servants, sweet sister,\" her brother told her as they were brought forward one by one. \"Illyrio and I selected them personally for you. Irri will teach you riding, Jhiqui the Dothraki tongue, and Doreah will instruct you in the womanly arts of love.\" He smiled thinly. \"She's very good, Illyrio and I can both swear to that.\"\n\nSer Jorah Mormont apologized for his gift. \"It is a small thing, my princess, but all a poor exile could afford,\" he said as he laid a small stack of old books before her. They were histories and songs of the Seven Kingdoms, she saw, written in the Common Tongue. She thanked him with all her heart.\n\nMagister Illyrio murmured a command, and four burly slaves hurried forward, bearing between them a great cedar chest bound in bronze. When she opened it, she found piles of the finest velvets and damasks the Free Cities could produce... and resting on top, nestled in the soft cloth, three huge eggs. Dany gasped. They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen, each different than the others, patterned in such rich colors that at first she thought they were crusted with jewels, and so large it took both of her hands to hold one. She lifted it delicately, expecting that it would be made of some fine porcelain or delicate enamel, or even blown glass, but it was much heavier than that, as if it were all of solid stone. The surface of the shell was covered with tiny scales, and as she turned the egg between her fingers, they shimmered like polished metal in the light of the setting sun. One egg was a deep green, with burnished bronze flecks that came and went depending on how Dany turned it. Another was pale cream streaked with gold. The last was black, as black as a midnight sea, yet alive with scarlet ripples and swirls. \"What are they?\" she asked, her voice hushed and full of wonder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Dragon's eggs, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai,\" said Magister Illyrio. \"The eons have turned them to stone, yet still they burn bright with beauty.\"\n\n\"I shall treasure them always.\" Dany had heard tales of such eggs, but she had never seen one, nor thought to see one. It was a truly magnificent gift, though she knew that Illyrio could afford to be lavish. He had collected a fortune in horses and slaves for his part in selling her to Khal Drogo.\n\nThe khal's bloodriders offered her the traditional three weapons, and splendid weapons they were. Haggo gave her a great leather whip with a silver handle, Cohollo a magnificent arakh chased in gold, and Qotho a double-curved dragonbone bow taller than she was. Magister Illyrio and Ser Jorah had taught her the traditional refusals for these offerings. \"This is a gift worthy of a great warrior, O blood of my blood, and I am but a woman. Let my lord husband bear these in my stead.\" And so Khal Drogo too received his'bride gifts.\"\n\nOther gifts she was given in plenty by other Dothraki: slippers and jewels and silver rings for her hair, medallion belts and painted vests and soft furs, sandsilks and jars of scent, needles and feathers and tiny bottles of purple glass, and a gown made from the skin of a thousand mice. \"A handsome gift, Khaleesi,\" Magister Illyrio said of the last, after he had told her what it was. \"Most lucky.\" The gifts mounted up around her in great piles, more gifts than she could possibly imagine, more gifts than she could want or use.\n\nAnd last of all, Khal Drogo brought forth his own bride gift to her. An expectant hush rippled out from the center of the camp as he left her side, growing until it had swallowed the whole khalasar. When he returned, the dense press of Dothraki gift-givers parted before him, and he led the horse to her."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was a young filly, spirited and splendid. Dany knew just enough about horses to know that this was no ordinary animal. There was something about her that took the breath away. She was grey as the winter sea, with a mane like silver smoke.\n\nHesitantly she reached out and stroked the horse's neck, ran her fingers through the silver of her mane. Khal Drogo said something in Dothraki and Magister Illyrio translated. \"Silver for the silver of your hair, the khal says.\"\n\n\"She's beautiful,\" Dany murmured.\n\n\"She is the pride of the khalasar,\" Illyrio said. \"Custom decrees that the khaleesi must ride amount worthy of her place by the side of the khal.\"\n\nDrogo stepped forward and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her up as easily as if she were a child and set heron the thin Dothraki saddle, so much smaller than the ones she was used to. Dany sat there uncertain fora moment. No one had told her about this part. \"What should I do?\" she asked Illyrio.\n\nIt was Ser Jorah Mormont who answered. \"Take the reins and ride. You need not go far.\"\n\nNervously Dany gathered the reins in her hands and slid her feet into the short stirrups. She was only a fair rider; she had spent far more time traveling by ship and wagon and palanquin than by horseback. Praying that she would not falloff and disgrace herself, she gave the filly the lightest and most timid touch with her knees.\n\nAnd for the first time in hours, she forgot to be afraid. Or perhaps it was for the first time ever."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The silver-grey filly moved with a smooth and silken gait, and the crowd parted for her, every eye upon them. Dany found herself moving faster than she had intended, yet somehow it was exciting rather than terrifying. The horse broke into a trot, and she smiled. Dothraki scrambled to clear a path. The slightest pressure with her legs, the lightest touch on the reins, and the filly responded. She sent it into a gallop, and now the Dothraki were hooting and laughing and shouting at her as they jumped out of her way. As she turned to ride back, a firepit loomed ahead, directly in her path. They were hemmed in on either side, with no room to stop. A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then, and she gave the filly her head.\n\nThe silver horse leapt the flames as if she had wings.\n\nWhen she pulled up before Magister Illyrio, she said, \"Tell Khal Drogo that he has given me the wind.\" The fat Pentoshi stroked his yellow beard as he repeated her words in Dothraki, and Dany saw her new husband smile for the first time.\n\nThe last sliver of sun vanished behind the high walls of Pentos to the west just then. Dany had lost all track of time. Khal Drogo commanded his bloodriders to bring forth his own horse, a lean red stallion. As the khal was saddling the horse, Viserys slid close to Dany on her silver, dug his fingers into her leg, and said, \"Please him, sweet sister, or I swear, you will seethe dragon wake as it has never woken before.\"\n\nThe fear came back to her then, with her brother's words. She felt like a child once more, only thirteen and all alone, not ready for what was about to happen to her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They rode out together as the stars came out, leaving the khalasar and the grass palaces behind. Khal Drogo spoke no word to her, but drove his stallion at a hard trot through the gathering dusk. The tiny silver bells in his long braid rang softly as he rode. \"I am the blood of the dragon,\" she whispered aloud as she followed, trying to keep her courage up. \"I am the blood of the dragon. I am the blood of the dragon.\" The dragon was never afraid.\n\nAfterward she could not say how far or how long they had ridden, but it was full dark when they stopped at a grassy place beside a small stream. Drogo swung off his horse and lifted her down from hers. She felt as fragile as glass in his hands, her limbs as weak as water. She stood there helpless and trembling in her wedding silks while he secured the horses, and when he turned to look at her, she began to cry.\n\nKhal Drogo stared at her tears, his face strangely empty of expression. \"No,\" he said. He lifted his hand and rubbed away the tears roughly with a callused thumb.\n\n\"You speak the Common Tongue,\" Dany said in wonder.\n\n\"No,\" he said again.\n\nPerhaps he had only that word, she thought, but it was one word more than she had known he had, and somehow it made her feel a little better. Drogo touched her hair lightly, sliding the silver-blond strands between his fingers and murmuring softly in Dothraki. Dany did not understand the words, yet there was warmth in the tone, a tenderness she had never expected from this man.\n\nHe put his finger under her chin and lifted her head, so she was looking up into his eyes. Drogo towered over her as he towered over everyone. Taking her lightly under the arms, he lifted her and seated heron a rounded rock beside the stream. Then he sat on the ground facing her, legs crossed beneath him, their faces finally at a height. \"No,\" he said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Is that the only word you know?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "she asked him.\n\nDrogo did not reply. His long heavy braid was coiled in the dirt beside him. He pulled it over his right shoulder and began to remove the bells from his hair, one by one. After a moment Dany leaned forward to help. When they were done, Drogo gestured. She understood. Slowly, carefully, she began to undo his braid.\n\nIt took along time. All the while he sat there silently, watching her. When she was done, he shook his head, and his hair spread out behind him like a river of darkness, oiled and gleaming. She had never seen hair so long, so black, so thick.\n\nThen it was his turn. He began to undress her.\n\nHis fingers were deft and strangely tender. He removed her silks one by one, carefully, while Dany sat unmoving, silent, looking at his eyes. When he bared her small breasts, she could not help herself. She averted her eyes and covered herself with her hands. \"No,\" Drogo said. He pulled her hands away from her breasts, gently but firmly, then lifted her face again to make her look at him. \"No,\" he repeated.\n\n\"No,\" she echoed back at him.\n\nHe stood her up then and pulled her close to remove the last of her silks. The night air was chilly on her bare skin. She shivered, and gooseflesh covered her arms and legs. She was afraid of what would come next, but fora while nothing happened. Khal Drogo sat with his legs crossed, looking at her, drinking in her body with his eyes.\n\nAfter awhile he began to touch her. Lightly at first, then harder. She could sense the fierce strength in his hands, but he never hurt her. He held her hand in his own and brushed her fingers, one by one. He ran a hand gently down her leg. He stroked her face, tracing the curve of her ears, running a finger gently around her mouth. He put both hands in her hair and combed it with his fingers. He turned her around, massaged her shoulders, slid a knuckle down the path of her spine."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It seemed as if hours passed before his hands finally went to her breasts."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He stroked the soft skin underneath until it tingled. He circled her nipples with his thumbs, pinched them between thumb and forefinger, then began to pull at her, very lightly at first, then more insistently, until her nipples stiffened and began to ache.\n\nHe stopped then, and drew her down onto his lap. Dany was flushed and breathless, her heart fluttering in her chest. He cupped her face in his huge hands and she looked into his eyes. \"No?\" he said, and she knew it was a question.\n\nShe took his hand and moved it down to the wetness between her thighs. \"Yes,\" she whispered as she put his finger inside her."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The summons came in the hour before the dawn, when the world was still and grey.\n\nAlyn shook him roughly from his dreams and Ned stumbled into the predawn chill, groggy from sleep, to find his horse saddled and the king already mounted. Robert wore thick brown gloves and a heavy fur cloak with a hood that covered his ears, and looked for all the world like a bear sitting a horse. \"Up, Stark!\" he roared. \"Up, up! We have matters of state to discuss.\"\n\n\"By all means,\" Ned said. \"Come inside, Your Grace.\" Alyn lifted the flap of the tent.\n\n\"No, no, no,\" Robert said. His breath steamed with every word. \"The camp is full of ears. Besides, I want to ride out and taste this country of yours.\" Ser Boros and Ser Meryn waited behind him with a dozen guardsmen, Ned saw. There was nothing to do but rub the sleep from his eyes, dress, and mount up.\n\nRobert set the pace, driving his huge black destrier hard as Ned galloped along beside him, trying to keep up. He called out a question as they rode, but the wind blew his words away, and the king did not hear him. After that Ned rode in silence. They soon left the kingsroad and took off across rolling plains dark with mist. By then the guard had fallen back a small distance, safely out of earshot, but still Robert would not slow.\n\nDawn broke as they crested a low ridge, and finally the king pulled up. By then they were miles south of the main party. Robert was flushed and exhilarated as Ned reined up beside him. \"Gods,\" he swore, laughing, \"it feels good to get out and ride the way a man was meant to ride! I swear, Ned, this creeping along is enough to drive a man mad.\" He had never been a patient man, Robert Baratheon. \"That damnable wheelhouse, the way it creaks and groans, climbing every bump in the road as if it were a mountain... I promise you, if that wretched thing breaks another axle, I'm going to burn it, and Cersei can walk!\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned laughed. \"I will gladly light the torch for you.\"\n\n\"Goodman!\" The king clapped him on the shoulder. \"I've half a mind to leave them all behind and just keep going.\"\n\nA smile touched Ned's lips. \"I do believe you mean it.\"\n\n\"I do, I do,\" the king said. \"What do you say, Ned? Just you and me, two vagabond knights on the kingsroad, our swords at our sides and the gods know what in front of us, and maybe a farmer's daughter or a tavern wench to warm our beds tonight.\"\n\n\"Would that we could,\" Ned said, \"but we have duties now, my liege... to the realm, to our children, Ito my lady wife and you to your queen. We are not the boys we were.\"\n\n\"You were never the boy you were,\" Robert grumbled. \"More's the pity. And yet there was that onetime... what washer name, that common girl of yours? Becca? No, she was one of mine, gods love her, black hair and these sweet big eyes, you could drown in them. Yours was... Aleena? No. You told me once. Was it Merryl? You know the one I mean, your bastard's mother?\"\n\n\"Her name was Wylla,\" Ned replied with cool courtesy, \"and I would sooner not speak of her.\"\n\n\"Wylla. Yes.\" The king grinned. \"She must have been a rare wench if she could make Lord Eddard Stark forget his honor, even for an hour. You never told me what she looked like...\"\n\nNed's mouth tightened in anger. \"Nor will I. Leave it be, Robert, for the love you say you bear me. I dishonored myself and I dishonored Catelyn, in the sight of gods and men.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Gods have mercy, you scarcely knew Catelyn.\"\n\n\"I had taken her to wife. She was carrying my child.\"\n\n\"You are too hard on yourself, Ned. You always were. Damn it, no woman wants Baelor the Blessed in her bed.\" He slapped a hand on his knee. \"Well, I'll not press you if you feel so strong about it, though I swear, at times you're so prickly you ought to take the hedgehog as your sigil.\"\n\nThe rising sun sent fingers of light through the pale white mists of dawn. A wide plain spread out beneath them, bare and brown, its flatness here and there relieved by long, low hummocks. Ned pointed them out to his king. \"The barrows of the First Men.\"\n\nRobert frowned. \"Have we ridden onto a graveyard?\"\n\n\"There are barrows everywhere in the north, Your Grace,\" Ned told him. \"This land is old.\"\n\n\"And cold,\" Robert grumbled, pulling his cloak more tightly around himself. The guard had reined up well behind them, at the bottom of the ridge. \"Well, I did not bring you out hereto talk of graves or bicker about your bastard. There was a rider in the night, from Lord Varys in King's Landing. Here.\" The king pulled a paper from his belt and handed it to Ned.\n\nVarys the eunuch was the king's master of whisperers. He served Robert now as he had once served Aerys Targaryen. Ned unrolled the paper with trepidation, thinking of Lysa and her terrible accusation, but the message did not concern Lady Arryn. \"What is the source for this information?\"\n\n\"Do you remember Ser Jorah Mormont?\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Would that I might forget him,\" Ned said bluntly. The Mormonts of Bear Island were an old house, proud and honorable, but their lands were cold and distant and poor. Ser Jorah had tried to swell the family coffers by selling some poachers to a Tyroshi slaver. As the Mormonts were bannermen to the Starks, his crime had dishonored the north. Ned had made the long journey west to Bear Island, only to find when he arrived that Jorah had taken ship beyond the reach of Ice and the king's justice. Five years had passed since then.\n\n\"Ser Jorah is now in Pentos, anxious to earn a royal pardon that would allow him to return from exile,\" Robert explained. \"Lord Varys makes good use of him.\"\n\n\"So the slaver has become a spy,\" Ned said with distaste. He handed the letter back. \"I would rather he become a corpse.\"\n\n\"Varys tells me that spies are more useful than corpses,\" Robert said. \"Jorah aside, what do you make of his report?\"\n\n\"Daenerys Targaryen has wed some Dothraki horselord. What of it? Shall we send her a wedding gift?\"\n\nThe king frowned. \"A knife, perhaps. A good sharp one, and a bold man to wield it.\"\n\nNed did not feign surprise; Robert's hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar's wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, \"I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.\" Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyanna's death, and the grief they had shared over her passing."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "This time, Ned resolved to keep his temper. \"Your Grace, the girl is scarcely more than a child. You are no Tywin Lannister, to slaughter innocents.\" It was said that Rhaegar's little girl had cried as they dragged her from beneath her bed to face the swords. The boy had been no more than a babe in arms, yet Lord Tywin's soldiers had torn him from his mother's breast and dashed his head against a wall.\n\n\"And how long will this one remain an innocent?\" Robert's mouth grew hard. \"This child will soon enough spread her legs and start breeding more dragonspawn to plague me.\"\n\n\"Nonetheless,\" Ned said, \"the murder of children... it would be vile... unspeakable...\"\n\n\"Unspeakable?\" the king roared. \"What Aerys did to your brother Brandon was unspeakable. The way your lord father died, that was unspeakable. And Rhaegar... how many times do you think he raped your sister? How many hundreds of times?\" His voice had grown so loud that his horse whinnied nervously beneath him. The king jerked the reins hard, quieting the animal, and pointed an angry finger at Ned. \"I will kill every Targaryen I can get my hands on, until they areas dead as their dragons, and then I will piss on their graves.\"\n\nNed knew better than to defy him when the wrath was on him. If the years had not quenched Robert's thirst for revenge, no words of his would help. \"You can't get your hands on this one, can you?\" he said quietly.\n\nThe king's mouth twisted in a bitter grimace. \"No, gods be cursed. Some pox-ridden Pentoshi cheesemonger had her brother and her walled upon his estate with pointy-hatted eunuchs all around them, and now he's handed them over to the Dothraki. I should have had them both killed years ago, when it was easy to get at them, but Jon was as bad as you. More fool I, I listened to him.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Jon Arryn was a wise man and a good Hand.\"\n\nRobert snorted. The anger was leaving him as suddenly as it had come. \"This Khal Drogo is said to have a hundred thousand men in his horde. What would Jon say to that?\"\n\n\"He would say that even a million Dothraki are no threat to the realm, so long as they remain on the other side of the narrow sea,\" Ned replied calmly. \"The barbarians have no ships. They hate and fear the open sea.\"\n\nThe king shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. \"Perhaps. There are ships to be had in the Free Cities, though. I tell you, Ned, I do not like this marriage. There are still those in the Seven Kingdoms who call me Usurper. Do you forget how many houses fought for Targaryen in the war? They bide their time for now, but give them half a chance, they will murder me in my bed, and my sons with me. If the beggar king crosses with a Dothraki horde at his back, the traitors will join him.\"\n\n\"He will not cross,\" Ned promised. \"And if by some mischance he does, we will throw him back into the sea. Once you choose anew Warden of the East-\"\n\nThe king groaned. \"For the last time, I will not name the Arryn boy Warden. I know the boy is your nephew, but with Targaryens climbing in bed with Dothraki, I would be mad to rest one quarter of the realm on the shoulders of a sickly child.\"\n\nNed was ready for that. \"Yet we still must have a Warden of the East. If Robert Arryn will not do, name one of your brothers. Stannis proved himself at the siege of Storm's End, surely.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He let the name hang therefor a moment. The king frowned and said nothing. He looked uncomfortable.\n\n\"That is,\" Ned finished quietly, watching, \"unless you have already promised the honor to another.\"\n\nFora moment Robert had the grace to look startled. Just as quickly, the look became annoyance. \"What if I have?\"\n\n\"It's Jaime Lannister, is it not?\"\n\nRobert kicked his horseback into motion and started down the ridge toward the barrows. Ned kept pace with him. The king rode on, eyes straight ahead. \"Yes,\" he said at last. A single hard word to end the matter.\n\n\"Kingslayer,\" Ned said. The rumors were true, then. He rode on dangerous ground now, he knew. \"An able and courageous man, no doubt,\" he said carefully, \"but his father is Warden of the West, Robert. In time Ser Jaime will succeed to that honor. No one man should hold both East and West.\" He left unsaid his real concern; that the appointment would put half the armies of the realm into the hands of Lannisters.\n\n\"I will fight that battle when the enemy appears on the field,\" the king said stubbornly. \"At the moment, Lord Tywin looms eternal as Casterly Rock, so I doubt that Jaime will be succeeding anytime soon. Don't vex me about this, Ned, the stone has been set.\"\n\n\"Your Grace, may I speak frankly?\"\n\n\"I seem unable to stop you,\" Robert grumbled. They rode through tall brown grasses.\n\n\"Can you trust Jaime Lannister?\"\n\n\"He is my wife's twin, a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard, his life and fortune and honor all bound to mine.\"\n\n\"As they were bound to Aerys Targaryen's,\" Ned pointed out."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why should I mistrust him? He has done everything I have ever asked of him. His sword helped win the throne I sit on.\"\n\nHis sword helped taint the throne you sit on, Ned thought, but he did not permit the words to pass his lips. \"He swore avow to protect his king's life with his own. Then he opened that king's throat with a sword.\"\n\n\"Seven hells, someone had to kill Aerys!\" Robert said, reining his mount to a sudden halt beside an ancient barrow. \"If Jaime hadn't done it, it would have been left for you or me.\"\n\n\"We were not Sworn Brothers of the Kingsguard,\" Ned said. The time had come for Robert to hear the whole truth, he decided then and there. \"Do you remember the Trident, Your Grace?\"\n\n\"I won my crown there. How should I forget it?\"\n\n\"You took a wound from Rhaegar,\" Ned reminded him. \"So when the Targaryen host broke and ran, you gave the pursuit into my hands. The remnants of Rhaegar's army fled back to King's Landing. We followed. Aerys was in the Red Keep with several thousand loyalists. I expected to find the gates closed to us.\"\n\nRobert gave an impatient shake of his head. \"Instead you found that our men had already taken the city. What of it?\"\n\n\"Not our men,\" Ned said patiently. \"Lannister men. The lion of Lannister flew over the ramparts, not the crowned stag. And they had taken the city by treachery.\"\n\nThe war had raged for close to a year. Lords great and small had flocked to Robert's banners; others had remained loyal to Targaryen. The mighty Lannisters of Casterly Rock, the Wardens of the West, had remained aloof from the struggle, ignoring calls to arms from both rebels and royalists. Aerys Targaryen must have thought that his gods had answered his prayers when Lord Tywin Lannister appeared before the gates of King's Landing with an army twelve thousand strong, professing loyalty. So the mad king had ordered his last mad act. He had opened his city to the lions at the gate."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Treachery was a coin the Targaryens knew well,\" Robert said. The anger was building in him again. \"Lannister paid them back in kind. It was no less than they deserved. I shall not trouble my sleepover it.\"\n\n\"You were not there,\" Ned said, bitterness in his voice. Troubled sleep was no stranger to him. He had lived his lies for fourteen years, yet they still haunted him at night. \"There was no honor in that conquest.\"\n\n\"The Others take your honor!\" Robert swore. \"What did any Targaryen ever know of honor? Go down into your crypt and ask Lyanna about the dragon's honor!\"\n\n\"You avenged Lyanna at the Trident,\" Ned said, halting beside the king. Promise me, Ned, she had whispered.\n\n\"That did not bring her back.\" Robert looked away, off into the grey distance. \"The gods be damned. It was a hollow victory they gave me. A crown... it was the girl I prayed them for. Your sister, safe... and mine again, as she was meant to be. I ask you, Ned, what good is it to wear a crown? The gods mock the prayers of kings and cowherds alike.\"\n\n\"I cannot answer for the gods, Your Grace... only for what I found when I rode into the throne room that day,\" Ned said. \"Aerys was dead on the floor, drowned in his own blood. His dragon skulls stared down from the walls. Lannister's men were everywhere. Jaime wore the white cloak of the Kingsguard over his golden armor. I can see him still. Even his sword was gilded. He was seated on the Iron Throne, high above his knights, wearing a helm fashioned in the shape of a lion's head. How he glittered!\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This is well known,\" the king complained.\n\n\"I was still mounted. I rode the length of the hall in silence, between the long rows of dragon skulls. It felt as though they were watching me, somehow. I stopped in front of the throne, looking up at him. His golden sword was across his legs, its edge red with a king's blood. My men were filling the room behind me. Lannister's men drew back. I never said a word. I looked at him seated thereon the throne, and I waited. At last Jaime laughed and got up. He took off his helm, and he said tome, \"Have no fear, Stark. I was only keeping it warm for our friend Robert. It's not a very comfortable seat, I'm afraid.\"\"\n\nThe king threw back his head and roared. His laughter startled a flight of crows from the tall brown grass. They took to the air in a wild beating of wings. \"You think I should mistrust Lannister because he sat on my throne fora few moments?\" He shook with laughter again. \"Jaime was all of seventeen, Ned. Scarce more than a boy.\"\n\n\"Boy or man, he had no right to that throne.\"\n\n\"Perhaps he was tired,\" Robert suggested. \"Killing kings is weary work. Gods know, there's no place else to rest your ass in that damnable room. And he spoke truly, it is a monstrous uncomfortable chair. In more ways than one.\" The king shook his head. \"Well, now I know Jaime's dark sin, and the matter can be forgotten. I am heartily sick of secrets and squabbles and matters of state, Ned. It's all as tedious as counting coppers. Come, let's ride, you used to know how. I want to feel the wind in my hair again.\" He kicked his horseback into motion and galloped up over the barrow, raining earth down behind him."
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fora moment Ned did not follow. He had run out of words, and he was filled with avast sense of helplessness. Not for the first time, he wondered what he was doing here and why he had come. He was no Jon Arryn, to curb the wildness of his king and teach him wisdom. Robert would do what he pleased, as he always had, and nothing Ned could say or do would change that. He belonged in Winterfell. He belonged with Catelyn in her grief, and with Bran.\n\nA man could not always be where he belonged, though. Resigned, Eddard Stark put his boots into his horse and set off after the king."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The north went on forever.\n\nTyrion Lannister knew the maps as well as anyone, but a fortnight on the wild track that passed for the kingsroad up here had brought home the lesson that the map was one thing and the land quite another.\n\nThey had left Winterfell on the same day as the king, amidst all the commotion of the royal departure, riding out to the sound of men shouting and horses snorting, to the rattle of wagons and the groaning of the queen's huge wheelhouse, as alight snow flurried about them. The kingsroad was just beyond the sprawl of castle and town. There the banners and the wagons and the columns of knights and freeriders turned south, taking the tumult with them, while Tyrion turned north with Benjen Stark and his nephew.\n\nIt had grown colder after that, and far more quiet.\n\nWest of the road were flint hills, grey and rugged, with tall watchtowers on their stony summits. To the east the land was lower, the ground flattening to a rolling plain that stretched away as far as the eye could see. Stone bridges spanned swift, narrow rivers, while small farms spread in rings around holdfasts walled in wood and stone. The road was well trafficked, and at night for their comfort there were rude inns to be found.\n\nThree days ride from Winterfell, however, the farmland gave way to dense wood, and the kingsroad grew lonely. The flint hills rose higher and wilder with each passing mile, until by the fifth day they had turned into mountains, cold blue-grey giants with jagged promontories and snow on their shoulders. When the wind blew from the north, long plumes of ice crystals flew from the high peaks like banners."
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With the mountains a wall to the west, the road veered north by northeast through the wood, a forest of oak and evergreen and black brier that seemed older and darker than any Tyrion had ever seen. \"The wolfswood,\" Benjen Stark called it, and indeed their nights came alive with the howls of distant packs, and some not so distant. Jon Snow's albino direwolf pricked up his ears at the nightly howling, but never raised his own voice in reply. There was something very unsettling about that animal, Tyrion thought.\n\nThere were eight in the party by then, not counting the wolf. Tyrion traveled with two of his own men, as befit a Lannister. Benjen Stark had only his bastard nephew and some fresh mounts for the Night's Watch, but at the edge of the wolfswood they stayed a night behind the wooden walls of a forest holdfast, and there joined up with another of the black brothers, one Yoren. Yoren was stooped and sinister, his features hidden behind a beard as black as his clothing, but he seemed as tough as an old root and as hard as stone. With him were a pair of ragged peasant boys from the Fingers. \"Rapers,\" Yoren said with a cold look at his charges. Tyrion understood. Life on the Wall was said to be hard, but no doubt it was preferable to castration.\n\nFive men, three boys, a direwolf, twenty horses, and a cage of ravens given over to Benjen Stark by Maester Luwin. No doubt they made a curious fellowship for the kingsroad, or any road.\n\nTyrion noticed Jon Snow watching Yoren and his sullen companions, with an odd cast to his face that looked uncomfortably like dismay. Yoren had a twisted shoulder and a sour smell, his hair and beard were matted and greasy and full of lice, his clothing old, patched, and seldom washed. His two young recruits smelled even worse, and seemed as stupid as they were cruel."
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"value": "No doubt the boy had made the mistake of thinking that the Night's Watch was made up of men like his uncle. If so, Yoren and his companions were a rude awakening. Tyrion felt sorry for the boy. He had chosen a hard life... or perhaps he should say that a hard life had been chosen for him.\n\nHe had rather less sympathy for the uncle. Benjen Stark seemed to share his brother's distaste for Lannisters, and he had not been pleased when Tyrion had told him of his intentions. \"I warn you, Lannister, you'll find no inns at the Wall,\" he had said, looking down on him.\n\n\"No doubt you'll find someplace to put me,\" Tyrion had replied. \"As you might have noticed, I'm small.\"\n\nOne did not say no to the queen's brother, of course, so that had settled the matter, but Stark had not been happy. \"You will not like the ride, I promise you that,\" he'd said curtly, and since the moment they set out, he had done all he could to live up to that promise.\n\nBy the end of the first week, Tyrion's thighs were raw from hard riding, his legs were cramping badly, and he was chilled to the bone. He did not complain. He was damned if he would give Benjen Stark that satisfaction.\n\nHe took a small revenge in the matter of his riding fur, a tattered bearskin, old and musty-smelling. Stark had offered it to him in an excess of Night's Watch gallantry, no doubt expecting him to graciously decline. Tyrion had accepted with a smile. He had brought his warmest clothing with him when they rode out of Winterfell, and soon discovered that it was nowhere near warm enough. It was cold up here, and growing colder. The nights were well below freezing now, and when the wind blew it was like a knife cutting right through his warmest woolens. By now Stark was no doubt regretting his chivalrous impulse. Perhaps he had learned a lesson. The Lannisters never declined, graciously or otherwise. The Lannisters took what was offered."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Farms and holdfasts grew scarcer and smaller as they pressed northward, ever deeper into the darkness of the wolfswood, until finally there were no more roofs to shelter under, and they were thrown back on their own resources.\n\nTyrion was never much use in making a camp or breaking one. Too small, too hobbled, too in-the-way. So while Stark and Yoren and the other men erected rude shelters, tended the horses, and built afire, it became his custom to take his fur and a wineskin and go off by himself to read.\n\nOn the eighteenth night of their journey, the wine was a rare sweet amber from the Summer Isles that he had brought all the way north from Casterly Rock, and the book a rumination on the history and properties of dragons. With Lord Eddard Stark's permission, Tyrion had borrowed a few rare volumes from the Winterfell library and packed them for the ride north.\n\nHe found a comfortable spot just beyond the noise of the camp, beside a swift-running stream with waters clear and cold as ice. A grotesquely ancient oak provided shelter from the biting wind. Tyrion curled up in his fur with his back against the trunk, took a sip of the wine, and began to read about the properties of dragonbone. Dragonbone is black because of its high iron content, the book told him. It is strong as steel, yet lighter and far more flexible, and of course utterly impervious to fire. Dragonbone bows are greatly prized by the Dothraki, and small wonder. An archer so armed can outrange any wooden bow.\n\nTyrion had a morbid fascination with dragons. When he had first come to King's Landing for his sister's wedding to Robert Baratheon, he had made it a point to seek out the dragon skulls that had hung on the walls of Targaryen's throne room. King Robert had replaced them with banners and tapestries, but Tyrion had persisted until he found the skulls in the dank cellar where they had been stored."
},
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"from": "human",
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"value": "He had expected to find them impressive, perhaps even frightening. He had not thought to find them beautiful. Yet they were. As black as onyx, polished smooth, so the bone seemed to shimmer in the light of his torch. They liked the fire, he sensed. He'd thrust the torch into the mouth of one of the larger skulls and made the shadows leap and dance on the wall behind him. The teeth were long, curving knives of black diamond. The flame of the torch was nothing to them; they had bathed in the heat of far greater fires. When he had moved away, Tyrion could have sworn that the beast's empty eye sockets had watched him go.\n\nThere were nineteen skulls. The oldest was more than three thousand years old; the youngest a mere century and a half. The most recent were also the smallest; a matched pair no bigger than mastiff's skulls, and oddly misshapen, all that remained of the last two hatchlings born on Dragonstone. They were the last of the Targaryen dragons, perhaps the last dragons anywhere, and they had not lived very long.\n\nFrom there the skulls ranged upward in size to the three great monsters of song and story, the dragons that Aegon Targaryen and his sisters had unleashed on the Seven Kingdoms of old. The singers had given them the names of gods: Balerion, Meraxes, Vhaghar. Tyrion had stood between their gaping jaws, wordless and awed. You could have ridden a horse down Vhaghar's gullet, although you would not have ridden it out again. Meraxes was even bigger. And the greatest of them, Balerion, the Black Dread, could have swallowed an aurochs whole, or even one of the hairy mammoths said to roam the cold wastes beyond the Port of Ibben."
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"value": "Tyrion stood in that dank cellar fora longtime, staring at Balerion's huge, empty-eyed skull until his torch burned low, trying to grasp the size of the living animal, to imagine how it must have looked when it spread its great black wings and swept across the skies, breathing fire.\n\nHis own remote ancestor, King Loren of the Rock, had tried to stand against the fire when he joined with King Mern of the Reach to oppose the Targaryen conquest. That was close on three hundred years ago, when the Seven Kingdoms were kingdoms, and not mere provinces of a greater realm. Between them, the Two Kings had six hundred banners flying, five thousand mounted knights, and ten times as many freeriders and men-at-arms. Aegon Dragonlord had perhaps a fifth that number, the chroniclers said, and most of those were conscripts from the ranks of the last king he had slain, their loyalties uncertain.\n\nThe hosts met on the broad plains of the Reach, amidst golden fields of wheat ripe for harvest. When the Two Kings charged, the Targaryen army shivered and shattered and began to run. Fora few moments, the chroniclers wrote, the conquest was at an end... but only for those few moments, before Aegon Targaryen and his sisters joined the battle.\n\nIt was the only time that Vhaghar, Meraxes, and Balerion were all unleashed at once. The singers called it the Field of Fire.\n\nNear four thousand men had burned that day, among them King Mern of the Reach. King Loren had escaped, and lived long enough to surrender, pledge his fealty to the Targaryens, and beget a son, for which Tyrion was duly grateful."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why do you read so much?\"\n\nTyrion looked up at the sound of the voice. Jon Snow was standing a few feet away, regarding him curiously. He closed the book on a finger and said, \"Look at me and tell me what you see.\"\n\nThe boy looked at him suspiciously. \"Is this some kind of trick? I see you. Tyrion Lannister.\"\n\nTyrion sighed. \"You are remarkably polite fora bastard, Snow. What you see is a dwarf. You are what, twelve?\"\n\n\"Fourteen,\" the boy said.\n\n\"Fourteen, and you're taller than I will ever be. My legs are short and twisted, and I walk with difficulty. I require a special saddle to keep from falling off my horse. A saddle of my own design, you maybe interested to know. It was either that or ride a pony. My arms are strong enough, but again, too short. I will never make a swordsman. Had I been born a peasant, they might have left me out to die, or sold me to some slaver's grotesquerie. Alas, I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock, and the grotesqueries are all the poorer. Things are expected of me. My father was the Hand of the King for twenty years. My brother later killed that very same king, as it turns out, but life is full of these little ironies. My sister married the new king and my repulsive nephew will be king after him. I must do my part for the honor of my House, wouldn't you agree? Yet how? Well, my legs maybe too small for my body, but my head is too large, although I prefer to think it is just large enough for my mind. I have a realistic grasp of my own strengths and weaknesses. My mind is my weapon. My brother has his sword, King Robert has his warhammer, and I have my mind... and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.\" Tyrion tapped the leather cover of the book. \"That's why I read so much, Jon Snow.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. Whoever his mother had been, she had left little of herself in her son. \"What are you reading about?\" he asked.\n\n\"Dragons,\" Tyrion told him.\n\n\"What good is that? There are no more dragons,\" the boy said with the easy certainty of youth.\n\n\"So they say,\" Tyrion replied. \"Sad, isn't it? When I was your age, I used to dream of having a dragon of my own.\"\n\n\"You did?\" the boy said suspiciously. Perhaps he thought Tyrion was making fun of him.\n\n\"Oh, yes. Even a stunted, twisted, ugly little boy can look down over the world when he's seated on a dragon's back.\" Tyrion pushed the bearskin aside and climbed to his feet. \"I used to start fires in the bowels of Casterly Rock and stare at the flames for hours, pretending they were dragonfire. Sometimes I'd imagine my father burning. At other times, my sister.\" Jon Snow was staring at him, a look equal parts horror and fascination. Tyrion guffawed. \"Don't look at me that way, bastard. I know your secret. You've dreamt the same kind of dreams.\"\n\n\"No,\" Jon Snow said, horrified. \"I wouldn't...\"\n\n\"No? Never?\" Tyrion raised an eyebrow. \"Well, no doubt the Starks have been terribly good to you. I'm certain Lady Stark treats you as if you were one of her own. And your brother Robb, he's always been kind, and why not? He gets Winterfell and you get the Wall. And your father... he must have good reasons for packing you off to the Night's Watch...\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Stop it,\" Jon Snow said, his face dark with anger. \"The Night's Watch is a noble calling!\"\n\nTyrion laughed. \"You're too smart to believe that. The Night's Watch is a midden heap for all the misfits of the realm. I've seen you looking at Yoren and his boys. Those are your new brothers, Jon Snow, how do you like them? Sullen peasants, debtors, poachers, rapers, thieves, and bastards like you all windup on the Wall, watching for grumkins and snarks and all the other monsters your wet nurse warned you about. The good part is there are no grumkins or snarks, so it's scarcely dangerous work. The bad part is you freeze your balls off, but since you're not allowed to breed anyway, I don't suppose that matters.\"\n\n\"Stop it!\" the boy screamed. He took a step forward, his hands coiling into fists, close to tears.\n\nSuddenly, absurdly, Tyrion felt guilty. He took a step forward, intending to give the boy a reassuring pat on the shoulder or mutter some word of apology.\n\nHe never saw the wolf, where it was or how it came at him. One moment he was walking toward Snow and the next he was flat on his back on the hard rocky ground, the book spinning away from him as he fell, the breath going out of him at the sudden impact, his mouth full of dirt and blood and rotting leaves. Ashe tried to getup, his back spasmed painfully. He must have wrenched it in the fall. He ground his teeth in frustration, grabbed a root, and pulled himself back to a sitting position. \"Help me,\" he said to the boy, reaching up a hand.\n\nAnd suddenly the wolf was between them. He did not growl. The damned thing never made a sound. He only looked at him with those bright red eyes, and showed him his teeth, and that was more than enough. Tyrion sagged back to the ground with a grunt. \"Don't help me, then. I'll sit right here until you leave.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"value": "Jon Snow stroked Ghost's thick white fur, smiling now. \"Ask me nicely.\"\n\nTyrion Lannister felt the anger coiling inside him, and crushed it outwith a will. It was not the first time in his life he had been humiliated, and it would not be the last. Perhaps he even deserved this. \"I should be very grateful for your kind assistance, Jon,\" he said mildly.\n\n\"Down, Ghost,\" the boy said. The direwolf sat on his haunches. Those red eyes never left Tyrion. Jon came around behind him, slid his hands under his arms, and lifted him easily to his feet. Then he picked up the book and handed it back.\n\n\"Why did he attack me?\" Tyrion asked with a sidelong glance at the direwolf. He wiped blood and dirt from his mouth with the back of his hand.\n\n\"Maybe he thought you were a grumkin.\"\n\nTyrion glanced at him sharply. Then he laughed, a raw snort of amusement that came bursting out through his nose entirely without his permission. \"Oh, gods,\" he said, choking on his laughter and shaking his head, \"I suppose I do rather look like a grumkin. What does he do to snarks?\"\n\n\"You don't want to know.\" Jon picked up the wineskin and handed it to Tyrion.\n\nTyrion pulled out the stopper, tilted his head, and squeezed along stream into his mouth. The wine was cool fire as it trickled down his throat and warmed his belly. He held out the skin to Jon Snow. \"Want some?\"\n\nThe boy took the skin and tried a cautious swallow. \"It's true, isn't it?\" he said when he was done. \"What you said about the Night's Watch.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the plot as the writer's tale assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 16"
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"value": "Jon Snow stroked Ghost's thick white fur, smiling now. \"Ask me nicely.\"\n\nTyrion Lannister felt the anger coiling inside him, and crushed it outwith a will. It was not the first time in his life he had been humiliated, and it would not be the last. Perhaps he even deserved this. \"I should be very grateful for your kind assistance, Jon,\" he said mildly.\n\n\"Down, Ghost,\" the boy said. The direwolf sat on his haunches. Those red eyes never left Tyrion. Jon came around behind him, slid his hands under his arms, and lifted him easily to his feet. Then he picked up the book and handed it back.\n\n\"Why did he attack me?\" Tyrion asked with a sidelong glance at the direwolf. He wiped blood and dirt from his mouth with the back of his hand.\n\n\"Maybe he thought you were a grumkin.\"\n\nTyrion glanced at him sharply. Then he laughed, a raw snort of amusement that came bursting out through his nose entirely without his permission. \"Oh, gods,\" he said, choking on his laughter and shaking his head, \"I suppose I do rather look like a grumkin. What does he do to snarks?\"\n\n\"You don't want to know.\" Jon picked up the wineskin and handed it to Tyrion.\n\nTyrion pulled out the stopper, tilted his head, and squeezed along stream into his mouth. The wine was cool fire as it trickled down his throat and warmed his belly. He held out the skin to Jon Snow. \"Want some?\"\n\nThe boy took the skin and tried a cautious swallow. \"It's true, isn't it?\" he said when he was done. \"What you said about the Night's Watch.\""
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"value": "Tyrion nodded.\n\nJon Snow set his mouth in a grim line. \"If that's what it is, that's what it is.\"\n\nTyrion grinned at him. \"That's good, bastard. Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it.\"\n\n\"Most men,\" the boy said. \"But not you.\"\n\n\"No,\" Tyrion admitted, \"not me. I seldom even dream of dragons anymore. There are no dragons.\" He scooped up the fallen bearskin. \"Come, we had better return to camp before your uncle calls the banners.\"\n\nThe walk was short, but the ground was rough underfoot and his legs were cramping badly by the time they got back. Jon Snow offered a hand to help him over a thick tangle of roots, but Tyrion shook him off. He would make his own way, as he had all his life. Still, the camp was a welcome sight. The shelters had been thrown up against the tumbledown wall of along-abandoned holdfast, a shield against the wind. The horses had been fed and afire had been laid. Yoren sat on a stone, skinning a squirrel. The savory smell of stew filled Tyrion's nostrils. He dragged himself over to where his man Morrec was tending the stewpot. Wordlessly, Morrec handed him the ladle. Tyrion tasted and handed it back. \"More pepper,\" he said.\n\nBenjen Stark emerged from the shelter he shared with his nephew. \"There you are. Jon, damn it, don't go off like that by yourself. I thought the Others had gotten you.\"\n\n\"It was the grumkins,\" Tyrion told him, laughing. Jon Snow smiled. Stark shot a baffled look at Yoren. The old man grunted, shrugged, and went back to his bloody work."
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The squirrel gave somebody to the stew, and they ate it with black bread and hard cheese that night around their fire. Tyrion shared around his skin of wine until even Yoren grew mellow. One by one the company drifted off to their shelters and to sleep, all but Jon Snow, who had drawn the night's first watch.\n\nTyrion was the last to retire, as always. Ashe stepped into the shelter his men had built for him, he paused and looked back at Jon Snow. The boy stood near the fire, his face still and hard, looking deep into the flames.\n\nTyrion Lannister smiled sadly and went to bed."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned and the girls were eight days gone when Maester Luwin came to her one night in Bran's sickroom, carrying a reading lamp and the books of account. \"It is past time that we reviewed the figures, my lady,\" he said. \"You'll want to know how much this royal visit cost us.\"\n\nCatelyn looked at Bran in his sickbed and brushed his hair back off his forehead. It had grown very long, she realized. She would have to cut it soon. \"I have no need to look at figures, Maester Luwin,\" she told him, never taking her eyes from Bran. \"I know what the visit cost us. Take the books away.\"\n\n\"My lady, the king's party had healthy appetites. We must replenish our stores before-\"\n\nShe cut him off. \"I said, take the books away. The steward will attend to our needs.\"\n\n\"We have no steward,\" Maester Luwin reminded her. Like a little grey rat, she thought, he would not let go. \"Poole went south to establish Lord Eddard's household at King's Landing.\"\n\nCatelyn nodded absently. \"Oh, yes. I remember.\" Bran looked so pale. She wondered whether they might move his bed under the window, so he could get the morning sun.\n\nMaester Luwin set the lamp in a niche by the door and fiddled with its wick. \"There are several appointments that require your immediate attention, my lady. Besides the steward, we need a captain of the guards to fill Jory's place, anew master of horse-\"\n\nHer eyes snapped around and found him. \"A master of horse?\" Her voice was a whip.\n\nThe maester was shaken. \"Yes, my lady. Hullen rode south with Lord Eddard, so-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"My son lies here broken and dying, Luwin, and you wish to discuss anew master of horse?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Do you think I care what happens in the stables? Do you think it matters tome one whit? I would gladly butcher every horse in Winterfell with my own hands if it would open Bran's eyes, do you understand that? Do you!\"\n\nHe bowed his head. \"Yes, my lady, but the appointments-\"\n\n\"I'll make the appointments,\" Robb said.\n\nCatelyn had not heard him enter, but there he stood in the doorway, looking at her. She had been shouting, she realized with a sudden flush of shame. What was happening to her? She was so tired, and her head hurt all the time.\n\nMaester Luwin looked from Catelyn to her son. \"I have prepared a list of those we might wish to consider for the vacant offices,\" he said, offering Robb a paper plucked from his sleeve.\n\nHer son glanced at the names. He had come from outside, Catelyn saw; his cheeks were red from the cold, his hair shaggy and windblown. \"Good men,\" he said. \"We'll talk about them tomorrow.\" He handed back the list of names.\n\n\"Very good, my lord.\" The paper vanished into his sleeve.\n\n\"Leave us now,\" Robb said. Maester Luwin bowed and departed. Robb closed the door behind him and turned to her. He was wearing a sword, she saw. \"Mother, what are you doing?\"\n\nCatelyn had always thought Robb looked like her; like Bran and Rickon and Sansa, he had the Tully coloring, the auburn hair, the blue eyes. Yet now for the first time she saw something of Eddard Stark in his face, something as stern and hard as the north. \"What am I doing?\" she echoed, puzzled. \"How can you ask that? What do you imagine I'm doing? I am taking care of your brother. I am taking care of Bran.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Is that what you call it?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You haven't left this room since Bran was hurt. You didn't even come to the gate when Father and the girls went south.\"\n\n\"I said my farewells to them here, and watched them ride out from that window.\" She had begged Ned not to go, not now, not after what had happened; everything had changed now, couldn't he see that? It was no use. He had no choice, he had told her, and then he left, choosing. \"I can't leave him, even fora moment, not when any moment could be his last. I have to be with him, if... if...\" She took her son's limp hand, sliding his fingers through her own. He was so frail and thin, with no strength left in his hand, but she could still feel the warmth of life through his skin.\n\nRobb's voice softened. \"He's not going to die, Mother. Maester Luwin says the time of greatest danger has passed.\"\n\n\"And what if Maester Luwin is wrong? What if Bran needs me and I'm not here?\"\n\n\"Rickon needs you,\" Robb said sharply. \"He's only three, he doesn't understand what's happening. He thinks everyone has deserted him, so he follows me around all day, clutching my leg and crying. I don't know what to do with him.\" He paused a moment, chewing on his lower lip the way he'd done when he was little. \"Mother, I need you too. I'm trying but I can't... I can't do it all by myself.\" His voice broke with sudden emotion, and Catelyn remembered that he was only fourteen. She wanted to getup and go to him, but Bran was still holding her hand and she could not move.\n\nOutside the tower, a wolf began to howl. Catelyn trembled, just fora second."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bran's.\" Robb opened the window and let the night air into the stuffy tower room. The howling grew louder. It was a cold and lonely sound, full of melancholy and despair.\n\n\"Don't,\" she told him. \"Bran needs to stay warm.\"\n\n\"He needs to hear them sing,\" Robb said. Somewhere out in Winterfell, a second wolf began to howl in chorus with the first. Then a third, closer. \"Shaggydog and Grey Wind,\" Robb said as their voices rose and fell together. \"You can tell them apart if you listen close.\"\n\nCatelyn was shaking. It was the grief, the cold, the howling of the direwolves. Night after night, the howling and the cold wind and the grey empty castle, on and on they went, never changing, and her boy lying there broken, the sweetest of her children, the gentlest, Bran who loved to laugh and climb and dreamt of knighthood, all gone now, she would never hear him laugh again. Sobbing, she pulled her hand free of his and covered her ears against those terrible howls. \"Make them stop!\" she cried. \"I can't stand it, make them stop, make them stop, kill them all if you must, just make them stop!\"\n\nShe didn't remember falling to the floor, but there she was, and Robb was lifting her, holding her in strong arms. \"Don't be afraid, Mother. They would never hurt him.\" He helped her to her narrow bed in the corner of the sickroom. \"Close your eyes,\" he said gently. \"Rest. Maester Luwin tells me you've hardly slept since Bran's fall.\"\n\n\"I can't,\" she wept. \"Gods forgive me, Robb, I can't, what if he dies while I'm asleep, what if he dies, what if he dies...\" The wolves were still howling. She screamed and held her ears again. \"Oh, gods, close the window!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If you swear tome you'll sleep.\" Robb went to the window, but as he reached for the shutters another sound was added to the mournful howling of the direwolves. \"Dogs,\" he said, listening. \"All the dogs are barking. They've never done that before...\" Catelyn heard his breath catch in his throat. When she looked up, his face was pale in the lamplight. \"Fire,\" he whispered.\n\nFire, she thought, and then, Bran! \"Help me,\" she said urgently, sitting up. \"Help me with Bran.\"\n\nRobb did not seem to hear her. \"The library tower's on fire,\" he said.\n\nCatelyn could seethe flickering reddish light through the open window now. She sagged with relief. Bran was safe. The library was across the bailey, there was noway the fire would reach them here. \"Thank the gods,\" she whispered.\n\nRobb looked at her as if she'd gone mad. \"Mother, stay here. I'll comeback as soon as the fire's out.\" He ran then. She heard him shout to the guards outside the room, heard them descending together in a wild rush, taking the stairs two and three at a time.\n\nOutside, there were shouts of'Fire!\" in the yard, screams, running footsteps, the whinny of frightened horses, and the frantic barking of the castle dogs. The howling was gone, she realized as she listened to the cacophony. The direwolves had fallen silent.\n\nCatelyn said a silent prayer of thanks to the seven faces of god as she went to the window. Across the bailey, long tongues of flame shot from the windows of the library. She watched the smoke rise into the sky and thought sadly of all the books the Starks had gathered over the centuries. Then she closed the shutters."
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "When she turned away from the window, the man was in the room with her.\n\n\"You weren't s'posed to be here,\" he muttered sourly. \"No one was s'posed to be here.\"\n\nHe was a small, dirty man in filthy brown clothing, and he stank of horses. Catelyn knew all the men who worked in their stables, and he was none of them. He was gaunt, with limp blond hair and pale eyes deep-sunk in a bony face, and there was a dagger in his hand.\n\nCatelyn looked at the knife, then at Bran. \"No,\" she said. The word stuck in her throat, the merest whisper.\n\nHe must have heard her. \"It's a mercy,\" he said. \"He's dead already.\"\n\n\"No,\" Catelyn said, louder now as she found her voice again. \"No, you can't.\" She spun back toward the window to scream for help, but the man moved faster than she would have believed. One hand clamped down over her mouth and yanked back her head, the other brought the dagger up to her windpipe. The stench of him was overwhelming.\n\nShe reached up with both hands and grabbed the blade with all her strength, pulling it away from her throat. She heard him cursing into her ear. Her fingers were slippery with blood, but she would not let goof the dagger. The handover her mouth clenched more tightly, shutting off her air. Catelyn twisted her head to the side and managed to get apiece of his flesh between her teeth. She bit down hard into his palm. The man grunted in pain. She ground her teeth together and tore at him, and all of a sudden he let go. The taste of his blood filled her mouth. She sucked in air and screamed, and he grabbed her hair and pulled her away from him, and she stumbled and went down, and then he was standing over her, breathing hard, shaking. The dagger was still clutched tightly in his right hand, slick with blood. \"You weren't s'posed to be here,\" he repeated stupidly."
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"value": "Catelyn saw the shadow slip through the open door behind him. There was a low rumble, less than a snarl, the merest whisper of a threat, but he must have heard something, because he started to turn just as the wolf made its leap. They went down together, half sprawled over Catelyn where she'd fallen. The wolf had him under the jaw. The man's shriek lasted less than a second before the beast wrenched back its head, taking out half his throat.\n\nHis blood felt like warm rain as it sprayed across her face.\n\nThe wolf was looking at her. Its jaws were red and wet and its eyes glowed golden in the darkroom. It was Bran's wolf, she realized. Of course it was. \"Thank you,\" Catelyn whispered, her voice faint and tiny. She lifted her hand, trembling. The wolf padded closer, sniffed at her fingers, then licked at the blood with a wet rough tongue. When it had cleaned all the blood off her hand, it turned away silently and jumped upon Bran's bed and lay down beside him. Catelyn began to laugh hysterically.\n\nThat was the way they found them, when Robb and Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik burst in with half the guards in Winterfell. When the laughter finally died in her throat, they wrapped her in warm blankets and led her back to the Great Keep, to her own chambers. Old Nan undressed her and helped her into a scalding hot bath and washed the blood off her with a soft cloth.\n\nAfterward Maester Luwin arrived to dress her wounds. The cuts in her fingers went deep, almost to the bone, and her scalp was raw and bleeding where he'd pulled out a handful of hair. The maester told her the pain was just starting now, and gave her milk of the poppy to help her sleep."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Finally she closed her eyes.\n\nWhen she opened them again, they told her that she had slept four days. Catelyn nodded and sat up in bed. It all seemed like a nightmare to her now, everything since Bran's fall, a terrible dream of blood and grief, but she had the pain in her hands to remind her that it was real. She felt weak and light-headed, yet strangely resolute, as if a great weight had lifted from her.\n\n\"Bring me some bread and honey,\" she told her servants, \"and take word to Maester Luwin that my bandages want changing.\" They looked at her in surprise and ran to do her bidding.\n\nCatelyn remembered the way she had been before, and she was ashamed. She had let them all down, her children, her husband, her House. It would not happen again. She would show these northerners how strong a Tully of Riverrun could be.\n\nRobb arrived before her food. Rodrik Cassel came with him, and her husband's ward Theon Greyjoy, and lastly Hallis Mollen, a muscular guardsman with a square brown beard. He was the new captain of the guard, Robb said. Her son was dressed in boiled leather and ringmail, she saw, and a sword hung at his waist.\n\n\"Who was he?\" Catelyn asked them.\n\n\"No one knows his name,\" Hallis Mollen told her. \"He was no man of Winterfell, m'lady, but some says they seen him here and about the castle these past few weeks.\"\n\n\"One of the king's men, then,\" she said, \"or one of the Lannisters\". He could have waited behind when the others left.\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Hal said. \"With all these strangers filling up Winterfell of late, there's noway of saying who he belonged to.\""
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"value": "\"He'd been hiding in your stables,\" Greyjoy said. \"You could smell it on him.\"\n\n\"And how could he go unnoticed?\" she said sharply.\n\nHallis Mollen looked abashed. \"Between the horses Lord Eddard took south and them we sent north to the Night's Watch, the stalls were half-empty. It were no great trick to hide from the stableboys. Could be Hodor saw him, the talk is that boy's been acting queer, but simple as he is...\" Hal shook his head.\n\n\"We found where he'd been sleeping,\" Robb put in. \"He had ninety silver stags in a leather bag buried beneath the straw.\"\n\n\"It's good to know my son's life was not sold cheaply,\" Catelyn said bitterly.\n\nHallis Mollen looked at her, confused. \"Begging your grace, m'lady, you saying he was out to kill your boy?\"\n\nGreyjoy was doubtful. \"That's madness.\"\n\n\"He came for Bran,\" Catelyn said. \"He kept muttering how I wasn't supposed to be there. He set the library fire thinking I would rush to put it out, taking any guards with me. If I hadn't been half-mad with grief, it would have worked.\"\n\n\"Why would anyone want to kill Bran?\" Robb said. \"Gods, he's only a little boy, helpless, sleeping...\"\n\nCatelyn gave her firstborn a challenging look. \"If you are to rule in the north, you must think these things through, Robb. Answer your own question. Why would anyone want to kill a sleeping child?\"\n\nBefore he could answer, the servants returned with a plate of food fresh from the kitchen. There was much more than she'd asked for: hot bread, butter and honey and blackberry preserves, a rasher of bacon and a soft-boiled egg, a wedge of cheese, a pot of mint tea. And with it came Maester Luwin."
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"value": "\"How is my son, Maester?\" Catelyn looked at all the food and found she had no appetite.\n\nMaester Luwin lowered his eyes. \"Unchanged, my lady.\"\n\nIt was the reply she had expected, no more and no less. Her hands throbbed with pain, as if the blade were still in her, cutting deep. She sent the servants away and looked back to Robb. \"Do you have the answer yet?\"\n\n\"Someone is afraid Bran might wake up,\" Robb said, \"afraid of what he might say or do, afraid of something he knows.\"\n\nCatelyn was proud of him. \"Very good.\" She turned to the new captain of the guard. \"We must keep Bran safe. If there was one killer, there could be others.\"\n\n\"How many guards do you want, m'lady?\" Hal asked.\n\n\"So long as Lord Eddard is away, my son is the master of Winterfell,\" she told him.\n\nRobb stood a little taller. \"Put one man in the sickroom, night and day, one outside the door, two at the bottom of the stairs. No one sees Bran without my warrant or my mother's.\"\n\n\"As you say, m'lord.\"\n\n\"Do it now,\" Catelyn suggested.\n\n\"And let his wolf stay in the room with him,\" Robb added.\n\n\"Yes,\" Catelyn said. And then again: \"Yes.\"\n\nHallis Mollen bowed and left the room.\n\n\"Lady Stark,\" Ser Rodrik said when the guardsman had gone, \"did you chance to notice the dagger the killer used?\"\n\n\"The circumstances did not allow me to examine it closely, but I can vouch for its edge,\" Catelyn replied with a dry smile. \"Why do you ask?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We found the knife still in the villain's grasp."
},
{
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"value": "It seemed tome that it was altogether too fine a weapon for such a man, so I looked at it long and hard. The blade is Valyrian steel, the hilt dragonbone. A weapon like that has no business being in the hands of such as him. Someone gave it to him.\"\n\nCatelyn nodded, thoughtful. \"Robb, close the door.\"\n\nHe looked at her strangely, but did as she told him.\n\n\"What I am about to tell you must not leave this room,\" she told them. \"I want your oaths on that. If even part of what I suspect is true, Ned and my girls have ridden into deadly danger, and a word in the wrong ears could mean their lives.\"\n\n\"Lord Eddard is a second father tome,\" said Theon Greyjoy. \"I do so swear.\"\n\n\"You have my oath,\" Maester Luwin said.\n\n\"And mine, my lady,\" echoed Ser Rodrik.\n\nShe looked at her son. \"And you, Robb?\"\n\nHe nodded his consent.\n\n\"My sister Lysa believes the Lannisters murdered her husband, Lord Arryn, the Hand of the King,\" Catelyn told them. \"It comes tome that Jaime Lannister did not join the hunt the day Bran fell. He remained herein the castle.\" The room was deathly quiet. \"I do not think Bran fell from that tower,\" she said into the stillness. \"I think he was thrown.\"\n\nThe shock was plain on their faces. \"My lady, that is a monstrous suggestion,\" said Rodrik Cassel. \"Even the Kingslayer would flinch at the murder of an innocent child.\"\n\n\"Oh, would he?\" Theon Greyjoy asked. \"I wonder.\""
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"value": "\"There is no limit to Lannister pride or Lannister ambition,\" Catelyn said.\n\n\"The boy had always been surehanded in the past,\" Maester Luwin said thoughtfully. \"He knew every stone in Winterfell.\"\n\n\"Gods,\" Robb swore, his young face dark with anger. \"If this is true, he will pay for it.\" He drew his sword and waved it in the air. \"I'll kill him myself!\"\n\nSer Rodrik bristled at him. \"Put that away! The Lannisters area hundred leagues away. Never draw your sword unless you mean to use it. How many times must I tell you, foolish boy?\"\n\nAbashed, Robb sheathed his sword, suddenly a child again. Catelyn said to Ser Rodrik, \"I see my son is wearing steel now.\"\n\nThe old master-at-arms said, \"I thought it was time.\"\n\nRobb was looking at her anxiously. \"Past time,\" she said. \"Winterfell may have need of all its swords soon, and they had best not be made of wood.\"\n\nTheon Greyjoy put a hand on the hilt of his blade and said, \"My lady, if it comes to that, my House owes yours a great debt.\"\n\nMaester Luwin pulled at his chain collar where it chafed against his neck. \"All we have is conjecture. This is the queen's beloved brother we mean to accuse. She will not take it kindly. We must have proof, or forever keep silent.\"\n\n\"Your proof is in the dagger,\" Ser Rodrik said. \"A fine blade like that will not have gone unnoticed.\"\n\nThere was only one place to find the truth of it, Catelyn realized. \"Someone must go to King's Landing.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll go,\" Robb said.\n\n\"No,\" she told him. \"Your place is here. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.\" She looked at Ser Rodrik with his great white whiskers, at Maester Luwin in his grey robes, at young Greyjoy, lean and dark and impetuous. Who to send? Who would be believed? Then she knew. Catelyn struggled to push back the blankets, her bandaged fingers as stiff and unyielding as stone. She climbed out of bed. \"I must go myself.\"\n\n\"My lady,\" said Maester Luwin, \"is that wise? Surely the Lannisters would greet your arrival with suspicion.\"\n\n\"What about Bran?\" Robb asked. The poorboy looked utterly confused now. \"You can't mean to leave him.\"\n\n\"I have done everything I can for Bran,\" she said, laying a wounded hand on his arm. \"His life is in the hands of the gods and Maester Luwin. As you reminded me yourself, Robb, I have other children to think of now.\"\n\n\"You will need a strong escort, my lady,\" Theon said.\n\n\"I'll send Hal with a squad of guardsmen,\" Robb said.\n\n\"No,\" Catelyn said. \"A large party attracts unwelcome attention. I would not have the Lannisters know I am coming.\"\n\nSer Rodrik protested. \"My lady, let me accompany you at least. The kingsroad can be perilous fora woman alone.\"\n\n\"I will not betaking the kingsroad,\" Catelyn replied. She thought fora moment, then nodded her consent. \"Two riders can move as fast as one, and a good deal faster than along column burdened by wagons and wheel-houses. I will welcome your company, Ser Rodrik. We will follow the White Knife down to the sea, and hire a ship at White Harbor. Strong horses and brisk winds should bring us to King's Landing well ahead of Ned and the Lannisters.\" And then, she thought, we shall see what we shall see."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "Eddard Stark had left before dawn, Septa Mordane informed Sansa as they broke their fast. \"The king sent for him. Another hunt, I do believe. There are still wild aurochs in these lands, I am told.\"\n\n\"I've never seen an aurochs,\" Sansa said, feeding apiece of bacon to Lady under the table. The direwolf took it from her hand, as delicate as a queen.\n\nSepta Mordane sniffed in disapproval. \"A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table,\" she said, breaking off another piece of comb and letting the honey drip down onto her bread.\n\n\"She's not a dog, she's a direwolf,\" Sansa pointed out as Lady licked her fingers with a rough tongue. \"Anyway, Father said we could keep them with us if we want.\"\n\nThe septa was not appeased. \"You're a good girl, Sansa, but I do vow, when it comes to that creature you're as willful as your sister Arya.\" She scowled. \"And where is Arya this morning?\"\n\n\"She wasn't hungry,\" Sansa said, knowing full well that her sister had probably stolen down to the kitchen hours ago and wheedled a breakfast out of some cook's boy.\n\n\"Do remind her to dress nicely today. The grey velvet, perhaps. We are all invited to ride with the queen and Princess Myrcella in the royal wheelhouse, and we must look our best.\"\n\nSansa already looked her best. She had brushed out her long auburn hair until it shone, and picked her nicest blue silks. She had been looking forward to today for more than a week. It was a great honor to ride with the queen, and besides, Prince Joffrey might be there. Her betrothed. Just thinking it made her feel a strange fluttering inside, even though they were not to marry for years and years. Sansa did not really know Joffrey yet, but she was already in love with him. He was all she ever dreamt her prince should be, tall and handsome and strong, with hairlike gold. She treasured every chance to spend time with him, few as they were. The only thing that scared her about today was Arya. Arya had away of ruining everything. You never knew what she would do. \"I'll tell her,\" Sansa said uncertainly, \"but she'll dress the way she always does.\" She hoped it wouldn't be too embarrassing. \"May I be excused?\""
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"value": "\"You may.\" Septa Mordane helped herself to more bread and honey, and Sansa slid from the bench. Lady followed at her heels as she ran from the inn's common room.\n\nOutside, she stood fora moment amidst the shouts and curses and the creak of wooden wheels as the men broke down the tents and pavilions and loaded the wagons for another day's march. The inn was a sprawling three-story structure of pale stone, the biggest that Sansa had ever seen, but even so, it had accommodations for less than a third of the king's party, which had swollen to more than four hundred with the addition of her father's household and the freeriders who had joined them on the road.\n\nShe found Arya on the banks of the Trident, trying to hold Nymeria still while she brushed dried mud from her fur. The direwolf was not enjoying the process. Arya was wearing the same riding leathers she had worn yesterday and the day before.\n\n\"You better put on something pretty,\" Sansa told her. \"Septa Mordane said so. We're traveling in the queen's wheelhouse with Princess Myrcella today.\"\n\n\"I'm not,\" Arya said, trying to brush a tangle out of Nymeria's matted grey fur. \"Mycah and I are going to ride upstream and look for rubies at the ford.\"\n\n\"Rubies,\" Sansa said, lost. \"What rubies?\"\n\nArya gave her a look like she was so stupid. \"Rhaegar's rubies. This is where King Robert killed him and won the crown.\"\n\nSansa regarded her scrawny little sister in disbelief. \"You can't look for rubies, the princess is expecting us. The queen invited us both.\""
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"value": "\"I don't care,\" Arya said. \"The wheelhouse doesn't even have windows, you can't see a thing.\"\n\n\"What could you want to see?\" Sansa said, annoyed. She had been thrilled by the invitation, and her stupid sister was going to ruin everything, just as she'd feared. \"It's all just fields and farms and holdfasts.\"\n\n\"It is not,\" Arya said stubbornly. \"If you came with us sometimes, you'd see.\"\n\n\"I hate riding,\" Sansa said fervently. \"All it does is get you soiled and dusty and sore.\"\n\nArya shrugged. \"Hold still,\" she snapped at Nymeria, \"I'm not hurting you.\" Then to Sansa she said, \"When we were crossing the Neck, I counted thirty-six flowers I never saw before, and Mycah showed me a lizard-lion.\"\n\nSansa shuddered. They had been twelve days crossing the Neck, rumbling down a crooked causeway through an endless black bog, and she had hated every moment of it. The air had been damp and clammy, the causeway so narrow they could not even make proper camp at night, they had to stop right on the kingsroad. Dense thickets of half-drowned trees pressed close around them, branches dripping with curtains of pale fungus. Huge flowers bloomed in the mud and floated on pools of stagnant water, but if you were stupid enough to leave the causeway to pluck them, there were quicksands waiting to suck you down, and snakes watching from the trees, and lizard-lions floating half-submerged in the water, like black logs with eyes and teeth.\n\nNone of which stopped Arya, of course. One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father. Sansa kept hoping he would tell Arya to behave herself and act like the highborn lady she was supposed to be, but he never did, he only hugged her and thanked her for the flowers. That just made her worse."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Then it turned out the purple flowers were called poison kisses, and Arya got a rash on her arms."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sansa would have thought that might have taught her a lesson, but Arya laughed about it, and the next day she rubbed mud allover her arms like some ignorant bog woman just because her friend Mycah told her it would stop the itching. She had bruises on her arms and shoulders too, dark purple welts and faded green-and-yellow splotches; Sansa had seen them when her sister undressed for sleep. How she had gotten those only the seven gods knew.\n\nArya was still going on, brushing out Nymeria's tangles and chattering about things she'd seen on the trek south. \"Last week we found this haunted watchtower, and the day before we chased a herd of wild horses. You should have seen them run when they caught ascent of Nymeria.\" The wolf wriggled in her grasp and Arya scolded her. \"Stop that, I have to do the other side, you're all muddy.\"\n\n\"You're not supposed to leave the column,\" Sansa reminded her. \"Father said so.\"\n\nArya shrugged. \"I didn't go far. Anyway, Nymeria was with me the whole time. I don't always go off, either. Sometimes it's fun just to ride along with the wagons and talk to people.\"\n\nSansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher's boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick, but Arya seemed to prefer his company to hers."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "Sansa was running out of patience now. \"You have to come with me,\" she told her sister firmly. \"You can't refuse the queen. Septa Mordane will expect you.\"\n\nArya ignored her. She gave a hard yank with the brush. Nymeria growled and spun away, affronted. \"Comeback here!\"\n\n\"There's going to be lemon cakes and tea,\" Sansa went on, all adult and reasonable. Lady brushed against her leg. Sansa scratched her ears the way she liked, and Lady sat beside heron her haunches, watching Arya chase Nymeria. \"Why would you want to ride a smelly old horse and get all sore and sweaty when you could recline on feather pillows and eat cakes with the queen?\"\n\n\"I don't like the queen,\" Arya said casually. Sansa sucked in her breath, shocked that even Arya would say such a thing, but her sister prattled on, heedless. \"She won't even let me bring Nymeria.\" She thrust the brush under her belt and stalked her wolf. Nymeria watched her approach warily.\n\n\"A royal wheelhouse is no place fora wolf,\" Sansa said. \"And Princess Myrcella is afraid of them, you know that.\"\n\n\"Myrcella is a little baby.\" Arya grabbed Nymeria around her neck, but the moment she pulled out the brush again the direwolf wriggled free and bounded off. Frustrated, Arya threw down the brush. \"Bad wolf!\" she shouted.\n\nSansa couldn't help but smile a little. The kennelmaster once told her that an animal takes after its master. She gave Lady a quick little hug. Lady licked her cheek. Sansa giggled. Arya heard and whirled around, glaring. \"I don't care what you say, I'm going out riding.\" Her long horsey face got the stubborn look that meant she was going to do something willful."
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"value": "\"Gods be true, Arya, sometimes you act like such a child,\" Sansa said. \"I'll go by myself then. It will be ever so much nicer that way. Lady and I will eat all the lemon cakes and just have the best time without you.\"\n\nShe turned to walk off, but Arya shouted after her, \"They won't let you bring Lady either.\" She was gone before Sansa could think of a reply, chasing Nymeria along the river.\n\nAlone and humiliated, Sansa took the long way back to the inn, where she knew Septa Mordane would be waiting. Lady padded quietly by her side. She was almost in tears. All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs. Why couldn't Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Myrcella? She would have liked a sister like that.\n\nSansa could never understand how two sisters, born only two years apart, could be so different. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon's mother had been common, or so people whispered. Once, when she was littler, Sansa had even asked Mother if perhaps there hadn't been some mistake. Perhaps the grumkins had stolen her real sister. But Mother had only laughed and said no, Arya washer daughter and Sansa's trueborn sister, blood of their blood. Sansa could not think why Mother would want to lie about it, so she supposed it had to be true.\n\nAs she neared the center of camp, her distress was quickly forgotten. A crowd had gathered around the queen's wheelhouse. Sansa heard excited voices buzzing like a hive of bees. The doors had been thrown open, she saw, and the queen stood at the top of the wooden steps, smiling down at someone. She heard her saying, \"The council does us great honor, my good lords.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What's happening?\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "she asked a squire she knew.\n\n\"The council sent riders from King's Landing to escort us the rest of the way,\" he told her. \"An honor guard for the king.\"\n\nAnxious to see, Sansa let Lady clear a path through the crowd. People moved aside hastily for the direwolf. When she got closer, she saw two knights kneeling before the queen, in armor so fine and gorgeous that it made her blink.\n\nOne knight wore an intricate suit of white enameled scales, brilliant as afield of new-fallen snow, with silver chasings and clasps that glittered in the sun. When he removed his helm, Sansa saw that he was an old man with hair as pale as his armor, yet he seemed strong and graceful for all that. From his shoulders hung the pure white cloak of the Kingsguard.\n\nHis companion was a man near twenty whose armor was steel plate of a deep forest-green. He was the handsomest man Sansa had ever set eyes upon; tall and powerfully made, with jet-black hair that fell to his shoulders and framed a clean-shaven face, and laughing green eyes to match his armor. Cradled under one arm was an antlered helm, its magnificent rack shimmering in gold.\n\nAt first Sansa did not notice the third stranger. He did not kneel with the others. He stood to one side, beside their horses, a gaunt grim man who watched the proceedings in silence. His face was pockmarked and beardless, with deepset eyes and hollow cheeks. Though he was not an old man, only a few wisps of hair remained to him, sprouting above his ears, but those he had grown long as a woman's. His armor was iron-grey chainmail over layers of boiled leather, plain and unadorned, and it spoke of age and hard use. Above his right shoulder the stained leather hilt of the blade strapped to his back was visible; a two-handed greatsword, too long to be worn at his side."
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The king is gone hunting, but I know he will be pleased to see you when he returns,\" the queen was saying to the two knights who knelt before her, but Sansa could not take her eyes off the third man. He seemed to feel the weight of her gaze. Slowly he turned his head. Lady growled. A terror as overwhelming as anything Sansa Stark had ever felt filled her suddenly. She stepped backward and bumped into someone.\n\nStrong hands grasped her by the shoulders, and fora moment Sansa thought it washer father, but when she turned, it was the burned face of Sandor Clegane looking down at her, his mouth twisted in a terrible mockery of a smile. \"You are shaking, girl,\" he said, his voice rasping. \"Do I frighten you so much?\"\n\nHe did, and had since she had first laid eyes on the ruin that fire had made of his face, though it seemed to her now that he was not half so terrifying as the other. Still, Sansa wrenched away from him, and the Hound laughed, and Lady moved between them, rumbling a warning. Sansa dropped to her knees to wrap her arms around the wolf. They were all gathered around gaping, she could feel their eyes on her, and here and there she heard muttered comments and titters of laughter.\n\n\"A wolf,\" a man said, and someone else said, \"Seven hells, that's a direwolf,\" and the first man said, \"What's it doing in camp?\" and the Hound's rasping voice replied, \"The Starks use them for wet nurses,\" and Sansa realized that the two stranger knights were looking down on her and Lady, swords in their hands, and then she was frightened again, and ashamed. Tears filled her eyes.\n\nShe heard the queen say, \"Joffrey, go to her.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And her prince was there.\n\n\"Leave her alone,\" Joffrey said. He stood over her, beautiful in blue wool and black leather, his golden curls shining in the sun like a crown. He gave her his hand, drew her to her feet. \"What is it, sweet lady? Why are you afraid? No one will hurt you. Put away your swords, all of you. The wolf is her little pet, that's all.\" He looked at Sandor Clegane. \"And you, dog, away with you, you're scaring my betrothed.\"\n\nThe Hound, ever faithful, bowed and slid away quietly through the press. Sansa struggled to steady herself. She felt like such a fool. She was a Stark of Winterfell, a noble lady, and someday she would be a queen. \"It was not him, my sweet prince,\" she tried to explain. \"It was the other one.\"\n\nThe two stranger knights exchanged a look. \"Payne?\" chuckled the young man in the green armor.\n\nThe older man in white spoke to Sansa gently. \"Ofttimes Ser Ilyn frightens meas well, sweet lady. He has a fearsome aspect.\"\n\n\"As well he should.\" The queen had descended from the wheelhouse. The spectators parted to make way for her. \"If the wicked do not fear the King's Justice, you have put the wrong man in the office.\"\n\nSansa finally found her words. \"Then surely you have chosen the right one, Your Grace,\" she said, and a gale of laughter erupted all around her.\n\n\"Well spoken, child,\" said the old man in white. \"As befits the daughter of Eddard Stark. I am honored to know you, however irregular the manner of our meeting. I am Ser Barristan Selmy, of the Kingsguard.\" He bowed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sansa knew the name, and now the courtesies that Septa Mordane had taught her over the years came back to her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,\" she said, \"and councillor to Robert our king and to Aerys Targaryen before him. The honor is mine, good knight. Even in the far north, the singers praise the deeds of Barristan the Bold.\"\n\nThe green knight laughed again. \"Barristan the Old, you mean. Don't flatter him too sweetly, child, he thinks overmuch of himself already.\" He smiled at her. \"Now, wolf girl, if you can put a name tome as well, then I must concede that you are truly our Hand's daughter.\"\n\nJoffrey stiffened beside her. \"Have a care how you address my betrothed.\"\n\n\"I can answer,\" Sansa said quickly, to quell her prince's anger. She smiled at the green knight. \"Your helmet bears golden antlers, my lord. The stag is the sigil of the royal House. King Robert has two brothers. By your extreme youth, you can only be Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and councillor to the king, and so I name you.\"\n\nSer Barristan chuckled. \"By his extreme youth, he can only be a prancing jackanapes, and so I name him.\"\n\nThere was general laughter, led by Lord Renly himself. The tension of a few moments ago was gone, and Sansa was beginning to feel comfortable... until Ser Ilyn Payne shouldered two men aside, and stood before her, unsmiling. He did not say a word. Lady bared her teeth and began to growl, a low rumble full of menace, but this time Sansa silenced the wolf with a gentle hand to the head. \"I am sorry if I offended you, Ser Ilyn,\" she said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She waited for an answer, but none came. As the headsman looked at her, his pale colorless eyes seemed to strip the clothes away from her, and then the skin, leaving her soul naked before him. Still silent, he turned and walked away.\n\nSansa did not understand. She looked at her prince. \"Did I say something wrong, Your Grace? Why will he not speak tome?\"\n\n\"Ser Ilyn has not been feeling talkative these past fourteen years,\" Lord Renly commented with a sly smile.\n\nJoffrey gave his uncle a look of pure loathing, then took Sansa's hands in his own. \"Aerys Targaryen had his tongue ripped outwith hot pincers.\"\n\n\"He speaks most eloquently with his sword, however,\" the queen said, \"and his devotion to our realm is unquestioned.\" Then she smiled graciously and said, \"Sansa, the good councillors and I must speak together until the king returns with your father. I fear we shall have to postpone your day with Myrcella. Please give your sweet sister my apologies. Joffrey, perhaps you would be so kind as to entertain our guest today.\"\n\n\"It would be my pleasure, Mother,\" Joffrey said very formally. He took her by the arm and led her away from the wheelhouse, and Sansa's spirits took flight. A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The touch of Joffrey's hand on her sleeve made her heartbeat faster."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What would you like to do?\"\n\nBe with you, Sansa thought, but she said, \"Whatever you'd like to do, my prince.\"\n\nJoffrey reflected a moment. \"We could go riding.\"\n\n\"Oh, I love riding,\" Sansa said.\n\nJoffrey glanced back at Lady, who was following at their heels. \"Your wolf is liable to frighten the horses, and my dog seems to frighten you. Let us leave them both behind and set off on our own, what do you say?\"\n\nSansa hesitated. \"If you like,\" she said uncertainly. \"I suppose I could tie Lady up.\" She did not quite understand, though. \"I didn't know you had a dog...\"\n\nJoffrey laughed. \"He's my mother's dog, in truth. She has set him to guard me, and so he does.\"\n\n\"You mean the Hound,\" she said. She wanted to hit herself for being so slow. Her prince would never love her if she seemed stupid. \"Is it safe to leave him behind?\"\n\nPrince Joffrey looked annoyed that she would even ask. \"Have no fear, lady. I am almost a man grown, and I don't fight with wood like your brothers. All I need is this.\" He drew his sword and showed it to her; a longsword adroitly shrunken to suit a boy of twelve, gleaming blue steel, castle-forged and double-edged, with a leather grip and a lion's-head pommel in gold. Sansa exclaimed over it admiringly, and Joffrey looked pleased. \"I call it Lion's Tooth,\" he said.\n\nAnd so they left her direwolf and his bodyguard behind them, while they ranged east along the north bank of the Trident with no company save Lion's Tooth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was a glorious day, a magical day. The air was warm and heavy with the scent of flowers, and the woods here had a gentle beauty that Sansa had never seen in the north. Prince Joffrey's mount was a blood bay courser, swift as the wind, and he rode it with reckless abandon, so fast that Sansa was hard-pressed to keep upon her mare. It was a day for adventures. They explored the caves by the riverbank, and tracked a shadowcat to its lair, and when they grew hungry, Joffrey found a holdfast by its smoke and told them to fetch food and wine for their prince and his lady. They dined on trout fresh from the river, and Sansa drank more wine than she had ever drunk before. \"My father only lets us have one cup, and only at feasts,\" she confessed to her prince.\n\n\"My betrothed can drink as much as she wants,\" Joffrey said, refilling her cup.\n\nThey went more slowly after they had eaten. Joffrey sang for her as they rode, his voice high and sweet and pure. Sansa was a little dizzy from the wine. \"Shouldn't we be starting back?\" she asked.\n\n\"Soon,\" Joffrey said. \"The battleground is right up ahead, where the river bends. That was where my father killed Rhaegar Targaryen, you know. He smashed in his chest, crunch, right through the armor.\" Joffrey swung an imaginary warhammer to show her how it was done. \"Then my uncle Jaime killed old Aerys, and my father was king. What's that sound?\"\n\nSansa heard it too, floating through the woods, a kind of wooden clattering, snack snack snack. \"I don't know,\" she said. It made her nervous, though. \"Joffrey, let's go back.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I want to see what it is.\" Joffrey turned his horse in the direction of the sounds, and Sansa had no choice but to follow. The noises grew louder and more distinct, the clack of wood on wood, and as they grew closer they heard heavy breathing as well, and now and then a grunt.\n\n\"Someone's there,\" Sansa said anxiously. She found herself thinking of Lady, wishing the direwolf was with her.\n\n\"You're safe with me.\" Joffrey drew his Lion's Tooth from its sheath. The sound of steel on leather made her tremble. \"This way,\" he said, riding through a stand of trees.\n\nBeyond, in a clearing overlooking the river, they came upon a boy and a girl playing at knights. Their swords were wooden sticks, broom handles from the look of them, and they were rushing across the grass, swinging at each other lustily. The boy was years older, ahead taller, and much stronger, and he was pressing the attack. The girl, a scrawny thing in soiled leathers, was dodging and managing to get her stick in the way of most of the boy's blows, but not all. When she tried to lunge at him, he caught her stick with his own, swept it aside, and slid his wood down hard on her fingers. She cried out and lost her weapon.\n\nPrince Joffrey laughed. The boy looked around, wide-eyed and startled, and dropped his stick in the grass. The girl glared at them, sucking on her knuckles to take the sting out, and Sansa was horrified. \"Arya?\" she called out incredulously.\n\n\"Go away,\" Arya shouted back at them, angry tears in her eyes. \"What are you doing here? Leave us alone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Joffrey glanced from Arya to Sansa and back again. \"Your sister?\" She nodded, blushing. Joffrey examined the boy, an ungainly lad with a coarse, freckled face and thick red hair. \"And who are you, boy?\" he asked in a commanding tone that took no notice of the fact that the other was a year his senior.\n\n\"Mycah,\" the boy muttered. He recognized the prince and averted his eyes. \"M'lord.\"\n\n\"He's the butcher's boy,\" Sansa said.\n\n\"He's my friend,\" Arya said sharply. \"You leave him alone.\"\n\n\"A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight, is it?\" Joffrey swung down from his mount, sword in hand. \"Pickup your sword, butcher's boy,\" he said, his eyes bright with amusement. \"Let us see how good you are.\"\n\nMycah stood there, frozen with fear.\n\nJoffrey walked toward him. \"Goon, pick it up. Or do you only fight little girls?\"\n\n\"She ast me to, m'lord,\" Mycah said. \"She ast me to.\"\n\nSansa had only to glance at Arya and seethe flush on her sister's face to know the boy was telling the truth, but Joffrey was in no mood to listen. The wine had made him wild. \"Are you going to pickup your sword?\"\n\nMycah shook his head. \"It's only a stick, m'lord. It's not no sword, it's only a stick.\"\n\n\"And you're only a butcher's boy, and no knight.\" Joffrey lifted Lion's Tooth and laid its point on Mycah's cheek below the eye, as the butcher's boy stood trembling. \"That was my lady's sister you were hitting, do you know that?\" A bright bud of blood blossomed where his sword pressed into Mycah's flesh, and a slow red line trickled down the boy's cheek."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Stop it!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya screamed. She grabbed up her fallen stick.\n\nSansa was afraid. \"Arya, you stay out of this.\"\n\n\"I won't hurt him... much,\" Prince Joffrey told Arya, never taking his eyes off the butcher's boy.\n\nArya went for him.\n\nSansa slid off her mare, but she was too slow. Arya swung with both hands. There was aloud crack as the wood split against the back of the prince's head, and then everything happened at once before Sansa's horrified eyes. Joffrey staggered and whirled around, roaring curses. Mycah ran for the trees as fast as his legs would take him. Arya swung at the prince again, but this time Joffrey caught the blow on Lion's Tooth and sent her broken stick flying from her hands. The back of his head was all bloody and his eyes were on fire. Sansa was shrieking, \"No, no, stop it, stop it, both of you, you're spoiling it,\" but no one was listening. Arya scooped up a rock and hurled it at Joffrey's head. She hit his horse instead, and the blood bay reared and went galloping off after Mycah. \"Stop it, don't, stop it!\" Sansa screamed. Joffrey slashed at Arya with his sword, screaming obscenities, terrible words, filthy words. Arya darted back, frightened now, but Joffrey followed, hounding her toward the woods, backing her up against a tree. Sansa didn't know what to do. She watched helplessly, almost blind from her tears.\n\nThen a grey blur flashed past her, and suddenly Nymeria was there, leaping, jaws closing around Joffrey's sword arm. The steel fell from his fingers as the wolf knocked him off his feet, and they rolled in the grass, the wolf snarling and ripping at him, the prince shrieking in pain. \"Get it off,\" he screamed. \"Get it off!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya's voice cracked like a whip. \"Nymeria!\"\n\nThe direwolf let goof Joffrey and moved to Arya's side. The prince lay in the grass, whimpering, cradling his mangled arm. His shirt was soaked in blood. Arya said, \"She didn't hurt you... much.\" She picked up Lion's Tooth where it had fallen, and stood over him, holding the sword with both hands.\n\nJoffrey made a scared whimpery sound as he looked up at her. \"No,\" he said, \"don't hurt me. I'll tell my mother.\"\n\n\"You leave him alone!\" Sansa screamed at her sister.\n\nArya whirled and heaved the sword into the air, putting her whole body into the throw. The blue steel flashed in the sun as the sword spun out over the river. It hit the water and vanished with a splash. Joffrey moaned. Arya ran off to her horse, Nymeria loping at her heels.\n\nAfter they had gone, Sansa went to Prince Joffrey. His eyes were closed in pain, his breath ragged. Sansa knelt beside him. \"Joffrey,\" she sobbed. \"Oh, look what they did, look what they did. My poor prince. Don't be afraid. I'll ride to the holdfast and bring help for you.\" Tenderly she reached out and brushed back his soft blond hair.\n\nHis eyes snapped open and looked at her, and there was nothing but loathing there, nothing but the vilest contempt. \"Then go,\" he spit at her. \"And don't touch me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They've found her, my lord.\"\n\nNed rose quickly. \"Our men or Lannister's?\"\n\n\"It was Jory,\" his steward Vayon Poole replied. \"She's not been harmed.\"\n\n\"Thank the gods,\" Ned said. His men had been searching for Arya for four days now, but the queen's men had been out hunting as well. \"Where is she? Tell Jory to bring her here at once.\"\n\n\"I am sorry, my lord,\" Poole told him. \"The guards on the gate were Lannister men, and they informed the queen when Jory brought her in. She's being taken directly before the king...\"\n\n\"Damn that woman!\" Ned said, striding to the door. \"Find Sansa and bring her to the audience chamber. Her voice maybe needed.\" He descended the tower steps in a red rage. He had led searches himself for the first three days, and had scarcely slept an hour since Arya had disappeared. This morning he had been so heartsick and weary he could scarcely stand, but now his fury was on him, filling him with strength.\n\nMen called out to him as he crossed the castle yard, but Ned ignored them in his haste. He would have run, but he was still the King's Hand, and a Hand must keep his dignity. He was aware of the eyes that followed him, of the muttered voices wondering what he would do.\n\nThe castle was a modest holding a half day's ride south of the Trident. The royal party had made themselves the uninvited guests of its lord, Ser Raymun Darry, while the hunt for Arya and the butcher's boy was conducted on both sides of the river. They were not welcome visitors. Ser Raymun lived under the king's peace, but his family had fought beneath Rhaegar's dragon banners at the Trident, and his three older brothers had died there, a truth neither Robert nor Ser Raymun had forgotten. With king's men, Darry men, Lannister men, and Stark men all crammed into a castle far too small for them, tensions burned hot and heavy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The king had appropriated Ser Raymun's audience chamber, and that was where Ned found them. The room was crowded when he burst in. Too crowded, he thought; left alone, he and Robert might have been able to settle the matter amicably.\n\nRobert was slumped in Darry's high seat at the far end of the room, his face closed and sullen. Cersei Lannister and her son stood beside him. The queen had her hand on Joffrey's shoulder. Thick silken bandages still covered the boy's arm.\n\nArya stood in the center of the room, alone but for Jory Cassel, every eye upon her. \"Arya,\" Ned called loudly. He went to her, his boots ringing on the stone floor. When she saw him, she cried out and began to sob.\n\nNed went to one knee and took her in his arms. She was shaking. \"I'm sorry,\" she sobbed, \"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"I know,\" he said. She felt so tiny in his arms, nothing but a scrawny little girl. It was hard to see how she had caused so much trouble. \"Are you hurt?\"\n\n\"No.\" Her face was dirty, and her tears left pink tracks down her cheeks. \"Hungry some. I ate some berries, but there was nothing else.\"\n\n\"We'll feed you soon enough,\" Ned promised. He rose to face the king. \"What is the meaning of this?\" His eyes swept the room, searching for friendly faces. But for his own men, they were few enough. Ser Raymun Darry guarded his look well. Lord Renly wore a half smile that might mean anything, and old Ser Barristan was grave; the rest were Lannister men, and hostile. Their only good fortune was that both Jaime Lannister and Sandor Clegane were missing, leading searches north of the Trident. \"Why was I not told that my daughter had been found?\" Ned demanded, his voice ringing. \"Why was she not brought tome at once?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He spoke to Robert, but it was Cersei Lannister who answered. \"How dare you speak to your king in that manner!\"\n\nAt that, the king stirred. \"Quiet, woman,\" he snapped. He straightened in his seat. \"I am sorry, Ned. I never meant to frighten the girl. It seemed best to bring her here and get the business done with quickly.\"\n\n\"And what business is that?\" Ned put ice in his voice.\n\nThe queen stepped forward. \"You know full well, Stark. This girl of yours attacked my son. Her and her butcher's boy. That animal of hers tried to tear his arm off.\"\n\n\"That's not true,\" Arya said loudly. \"She just bit him a little. He was hurting Mycah.\"\n\n\"Joff told us what happened,\" the queen said. \"You and the butcher boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him.\"\n\n\"That's not how it was,\" Arya said, close to tears again. Ned put a hand on her shoulder.\n\n\"Yes it is!\" Prince Joffrey insisted. \"They all attacked me, and she threw Lion's Tooth in the river!\" Ned noticed that he did not so much as glance at Arya as he spoke.\n\n\"Liar!\" Arya yelled.\n\n\"Shut up!\" the prince yelled back.\n\n\"Enough!\" the king roared, rising from his seat, his voice thick with irritation. Silence fell. He glowered at Arya through his thick beard. \"Now, child, you will tell me what happened. Tell it all, and tell it true. It is a great crime to lie to a king.\" Then he looked over at his son. \"When she is done, you will have your turn. Until then, hold your tongue.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As Arya began her story, Ned heard the door open behind him. He glanced back and saw Vayon Poole enter with Sansa. They stood quietly at the back of the hall as Arya spoke. When she got to the part where she threw Joffrey's sword into the middle of the Trident, Renly Baratheon began to laugh. The king bristled. \"Ser Barristan, escort my brother from the hall before he chokes.\"\n\nLord Renly stifled his laughter. \"My brother is too kind. I can find the door myself.\" He bowed to Joffrey. \"Perchance later you'll tell me how a nine-year-old girl the size of a wet rat managed to disarm you with a broom handle and throw your sword in the river.\" As the door swung shut behind him, Ned heard him say, \"Lion's Tooth,\" and guffaw once more.\n\nPrince Joffrey was pale as he began his very different version of events. When his son was done talking, the king rose heavily from his seat, looking like a man who wanted to be anywhere but here. \"What in all the seven hells am I supposed to make of this? He says one thing, she says another.\"\n\n\"They were not the only ones present,\" Ned said. \"Sansa, come here.\" Ned had heard her version of the story the night Arya had vanished. He knew the truth. \"Tell us what happened.\"\n\nHis eldest daughter stepped forward hesitantly. She was dressed in blue velvets trimmed with white, a silver chain around her neck. Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone. She blinked at her sister, then at the young prince. \"I don't know,\" she said tearfully, looking as though she wanted to bolt. \"I don't remember. Everything happened so fast, I didn't see...\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 22"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion Lannister's laughter steamed in the cold air. \"I'll be sure to tell your father to arrest more stonemasons, before your tower collapses.\"\n\nJon could taste the mockery there, but there was no denying the truth. The Watch had built nineteen great strongholds along the Wall, but only three were still occupied: Eastwatch on its grey windswept shore, the Shadow Tower hard by the mountains where the Wall ended, and Castle Black between them, at the end of the kingsroad. The other keeps, long deserted, were lonely, haunted places, where cold winds whistled through black windows and the spirits of the dead manned the parapets.\n\n\"It's better that I'm by myself,\" Jon said stubbornly. \"The rest of them are scared of Ghost.\"\n\n\"Wise boys,\" Lannister said. Then he changed the subject. \"The talk is, your uncle is too long away.\"\n\nJon remembered the wish he'd wished in his anger, the vision of Benjen Stark dead in the snow, and he looked away quickly. The dwarf had away of sensing things, and Jon did not want him to seethe guilt in his eyes. \"He said he'd be back by my name day,\" he admitted. His name day had come and gone, unremarked, a fortnight past. \"They were looking for Ser Waymar Royce, his father is bannerman to Lord Arryn. Uncle Benjen said they might search as far as the Shadow Tower. That's all the way up in the mountains.\"\n\n\"I hear that a good many rangers have vanished of late,\" Lannister said as they mounted the steps to the common hall. He grinned and pulled open the door. \"Perhaps the grumkins are hungry this year.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Inside, the hall was immense and drafty, even with afire roaring in its great hearth. Crows nested in the timbers of its lofty ceiling. Jon heard their cries overhead as he accepted a bowl of stew and a heel of black bread from the day's cooks. Grenn and Toad and some of the others were seated at the bench nearest the warmth, laughing and cursing each other in rough voices. Jon eyed them thoughtfully fora moment. Then he chose a spot at the far end of the hall, well away from the other diners.\n\nTyrion Lannister sat across from him, sniffing at the stew suspiciously. \"Barley, onion, carrot,\" he muttered. \"Someone should tell the cooks that turnip isn't a meat.\"\n\n\"It's mutton stew.\" Jon pulled off his gloves and warmed his hands in the steam rising from the bowl. The smell made his mouth water.\n\n\"Snow.\"\n\nJon knew Alliser Thorne's voice, but there was a curious note in it that he had not heard before. He turned.\n\n\"The Lord Commander wants to see you. Now.\"\n\nFora moment Jon was too frightened to move. Why would the Lord Commander want to see him? They had heard something about Benjen, he thought wildly, he was dead, the vision had come true. \"Is it my uncle?\" he blurted. \"Is he returned safe?\"\n\n\"The Lord Commander is not accustomed to waiting,\" was Ser Alliser's reply. \"And I am not accustomed to having my commands questioned by bastards.\"\n\nTyrion Lannister swung off the bench and rose. \"Stop it, Thorne. You're frightening the boy.\"\n\n\"Keep out of matters that don't concern you, Lannister. You have no place here.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have a place at court, though,\" the dwarf said, smiling. \"A word in the right ear, and you'll die a sour old man before you get another boy to train. Now tell Snow why the Old Bear needs to see him. Is there news of his uncle?\"\n\n\"No,\" Ser Alliser said. \"This is another matter entirely. A bird arrived this morning from Winterfell, with a message that concerns his brother.\" He corrected himself. \"His half brother.\"\n\n\"Bran,\" Jon breathed, scrambling to his feet. \"Something's happened to Bran.\"\n\nTyrion Lannister laid a hand on his arm. \"Jon,\" he said. \"I am truly sorry.\"\n\nJon scarcely heard him. He brushed off Tyrion's hand and strode across the hall. He was running by the time he hit the doors. He raced to the Commander's Keep, dashing through drifts of old snow. When the guards passed him, he took the tower steps two at a time. By the time he burst into the presence of the Lord Commander, his boots were soaked and Jon was wild-eyed and panting. \"Bran,\" he said. \"What does it say about Bran?\"\n\nJeor Mormont, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, was a gruff old man with an immense bald head and a shaggy grey beard. He had a raven on his arm, and he was feeding it kernels of corn. \"I am told you can read.\" He shook the raven off, and it flapped its wings and flew to the window, where it sat watching as Mormont drew a roll of paper from his belt and handed it to Jon. \"Corn,\" it muttered in a raucous voice. \"Corn, corn.\"\n\nJon's finger traced the outline of the direwolf in the white wax of the broken seal. He recognized Robb's hand, but the letters seemed to blur and run as he tried to read them. He realized he was crying. And then, through the tears, he found the sense in the words, and raised his head. \"He woke up,\" he said. \"The gods gave him back.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Crippled,\" Mormont said. \"I'm sorry, boy. Read the rest of the letter.\"\n\nHe looked at the words, but they didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Bran was going to live. \"My brother is going to live,\" he told Mormont. The Lord Commander shook his head, gathered up a fistful of corn, and whistled. The raven flew to his shoulder, crying, \"Live! Live!\"\n\nJon ran down the stairs, a smile on his face and Robb's letter in his hand. \"My brother is going to live,\" he told the guards. They exchanged a look. He ran back to the common hall, where he found Tyrion Lannister just finishing his meal. He grabbed the little man under the arms, hoisted him up in the air, and spun him around in a circle. \"Bran is going to live!\" he whooped. Lannister looked startled. Jon put him down and thrust the paper into his hands. \"Here, read it,\" he said.\n\nOthers were gathering around and looking at him curiously. Jon noticed Grenn a few feet away. A thick woolen bandage was wrapped around one hand. He looked anxious and uncomfortable, not menacing at all. Jon went to him. Grenn edged backward and put up his hands. \"Stay away from me now, you bastard.\"\n\nJon smiled at him. \"I'm sorry about your wrist. Robb used the same move on me once, only with a wooden blade. It hurt like seven hells, but yours must be worse. Look, if you want, I can show you how to defend that.\"\n\nAlliser Thorne overheard him. \"Lord Snow wants to take my place now.\" He sneered. \"I'd have an easier time teaching a wolf to juggle than you will training this aurochs.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll take that wager, Ser Alliser,\" Jon said. \"I'd love to see Ghost juggle.\"\n\nJon heard Grenn suck in his breath, shocked. Silence fell.\n\nThen Tyrion Lannister guffawed. Three of the black brothers joined in from a nearby table. The laughter spread up and down the benches, until even the cooks joined in. The birds stirred in the rafters, and finally even Grenn began to chuckle.\n\nSer Alliser never took his eyes from Jon. As the laughter rolled around him, his face darkened, and his sword hand curled into a fist. \"That was a grievous error, Lord Snow,\" he said at last in the acid tones of an enemy."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eddard Stark rode through the towering bronze doors of the Red Keep sore, tired, hungry, and irritable. He was still ahorse, dreaming of along hot soak, a roast fowl, and a featherbed, when the king's steward told him that Grand Maester Pycelle had convened an urgent meeting of the small council. The honor of the Hand's presence was requested as soon as it was convenient. \"It will be convenient on the morrow,\" Ned snapped as he dismounted.\n\nThe steward bowed very low. \"I shall give the councillors your regrets, my lord.\"\n\n\"No, damn it,\" Ned said. It would not do to offend the council before he had even begun. \"I will see them. Pray give me a few moments to change into something more presentable.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" the steward said. \"We have given you Lord Arryn's former chambers in the Tower of the Hand, if it please you. I shall have your things taken there.\"\n\n\"My thanks,\" Ned said as he ripped off his riding gloves and tucked them into his belt. The rest of his household was coming through the gate behind him. Ned saw Vayon Poole, his own steward, and called out. \"It seems the council has urgent need of me. See that my daughters find their bedchambers, and tell Jory to keep them there. Arya is not to go exploring,\" Poole bowed. Ned turned back to the royal steward. \"My wagons are still straggling through the city. I shall need appropriate garments.\"\n\n\"It will be my great pleasure,\" the steward said.\n\nAnd so Ned had come striding into the council chambers, bone-tired and dressed in borrowed clothing, to find four members of the small council waiting for him."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The chamber was richly furnished. Myrish carpets covered the floor instead of rushes, and in one corner a hundred fabulous beasts cavorted in bright paints on a carved screen from the Summer Isles. The walls were hung with tapestries from Norvos and Qohor and Lys, and a pair of Valyrian sphinxes flanked the door, eyes of polished garnet smoldering in black marble faces.\n\nThe councillor Ned liked least, the eunuch Varys, accosted him the moment he entered. \"Lord Stark, I was grievous sad to hear about your troubles on the kingsroad. We have all been visiting the sept to light candles for Prince Joffrey. I pray for his recovery.\" His hand left powder stains on Ned's sleeve, and he smelled as foul and sweet as flowers on a grave.\n\n\"Your gods have heard you,\" Ned replied, cool yet polite. \"The prince grows stronger everyday.\" He disentangled himself from the eunuch's grip and crossed the room to where Lord Renly stood by the screen, talking quietly with a short man who could only be Littlefinger. Renly had been a boy of eight when Robert won the throne, but he had grown into a man so like his brother that Ned found it disconcerting. Whenever he saw him, it was as if the years had slipped away and Robert stood before him, fresh from his victory on the Trident.\n\n\"I see you have arrived safely, Lord Stark,\" Renly said.\n\n\"And you as well,\" Ned replied. \"You must forgive me, but sometimes you look the very image of your brother Robert.\"\n\n\"A poor copy,\" Renly said with a shrug.\n\n\"Though much better dressed,\" Littlefinger quipped. \"Lord Renly spends more on clothing than half the ladies of the court.\""
},
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"value": "It was true enough. Lord Renly was in dark green velvet, with a dozen golden stags embroidered on his doublet. A cloth-of-gold half cape was draped casually across one shoulder, fastened with an emerald brooch. \"There are worse crimes,\" Renly said with a laugh. \"The way you dress, for one.\"\n\nLittlefinger ignored the jibe. He eyed Ned with a smile on his lips that bordered on insolence. \"I have hoped to meet you for some years, Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn has mentioned me to you.\"\n\n\"She has,\" Ned replied with a chill in his voice. The sly arrogance of the comment rankled him. \"I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well.\"\n\nRenly Baratheon laughed. Varys shuffled over to listen.\n\n\"Rather too well,\" Littlefinger said. \"I still carry a token of his esteem. Did Brandon speak of me too?\"\n\n\"Often, and with some heat,\" Ned said, hoping that would end it. He had no patience with this game they played, this dueling with words.\n\n\"I should have thought that heat ill suits you Starks,\" Littlefinger said. \"Herein the south, they say you are all made of ice, and melt when you ride below the Neck.\"\n\n\"I do not plan on melting soon, Lord Baelish. You may count on it.\" Ned moved to the council table and said, \"Maester Pycelle, I trust you are well.\"\n\nThe Grand Maester smiled gently from his tall chair at the foot of the table. \"Well enough fora man of my years, my lord,\" he replied, \"yet I do tire easily, I fear.\" Wispy strands of white hair fringed the broad bald dome of his forehead above a kindly face. His maester's collar was no simple metal choker such as Luwin wore, but two dozen heavy chains wound together into a ponderous metal necklace that covered him from throat to breast. The links were forged of every metal known to man: black iron and red gold, bright copper and dull lead, steel and tin and pale silver, brass and bronze and platinum. Garnets and amethysts and black pearls adorned the metal-work, and here and there an emerald or ruby. \"Perhaps we might begin soon,\" the Grand Maester said, hands knitting together atop his broad stomach. \"I fear I shall fall asleep if we wait much longer.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As you will.\" The king's seat sat empty at the head of the table, the crowned stag of Baratheon embroidered in gold thread on its pillows. Ned took the chair beside it, as the right hand of his king. \"My lords,\" he said formally, \"I am sorry to have kept you waiting.\"\n\n\"You are the King's Hand,\" Varys said. \"We serve at your pleasure, Lord Stark.\"\n\nAs the others took their accustomed seats, it struck Eddard Stark forcefully that he did not belong here, in this room, with these men. He remembered what Robert had told him in the crypts below Winterfell. I am surrounded by flatterers and fools, the king had insisted. Ned looked down the council table and wondered which were the flatterers and which the fools. He thought he knew already. \"We are but five,\" he pointed out.\n\n\"Lord Stannis took himself to Dragonstone not long after the king went north,\" Varys said, \"and our gallant Ser Barristan no doubt rides beside the king as he makes his way through the city, as befits the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.\"\n\n\"Perhaps we had best wait for Ser Barristan and the king to join us,\" Ned suggested.\n\nRenly Baratheon laughed aloud. \"If we wait for my brother to grace us with his royal presence, it could be along sit.\"\n\n\"Our good King Robert has many cares,\" Varys said. \"He entrusts some small matters to us, to lighten his load.\"\n\n\"What Lord Varys means is that all this business of coin and crops and justice bores my royal brother to tears,\" Lord Renly said, \"so it falls to us to govern the realm. He does send us a command from time to time.\" He drew a tightly rolled paper from his sleeve and laid it on the table. \"This morning he commanded me to ride ahead with all haste and ask Grand Maester Pycelle to convene this council at once. He has an urgent task for us.\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Littlefinger smiled and handed the paper to Ned. It bore the royal seal. Ned broke the wax with his thumb and flattened the letter to consider the king's urgent command, reading the words with mounting disbelief. Was there no end to Robert's folly? And to do this in his name, that was salt in the wound. \"Gods be good,\" he swore.\n\n\"What Lord Eddard means to say,\" Lord Renly announced, \"is that His Grace instructs us to stage a great tournament in honor of his appointment as the Hand of the King.\"\n\n\"How much?\" asked Littlefinger, mildly.\n\nNed read the answer off the letter. \"Forty thousand golden dragons to the champion. Twenty thousand to the man who comes second, another twenty to the winner of the melee, and ten thousand to the victor of the archery competition.\"\n\n\"Ninety thousand gold pieces,\" Littlefinger sighed. \"And we must not neglect the other costs. Robert will want a prodigious feast. That means cooks, carpenters, serving girls, singers, jugglers, fools...\"\n\n\"Fools we have in plenty,\" Lord Renly said.\n\nGrand Maester Pycelle looked to Littlefinger and asked, \"Will the treasury bear the expense?\"\n\n\"What treasury is that?\" Littlefinger replied with a twist of his mouth. \"Spare me the foolishness, Maester. You know as well as I that the treasury has been empty for years. I shall have to borrow the money. No doubt the Lannisters will be accommodating. We owe Lord Tywin some three million dragons at present, what matter another hundred thousand?\"\n\nNed was stunned. \"Are you claiming that the Crown is three million gold pieces in debt?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Crown is more than six million gold pieces in debt, Lord Stark. The Lannisters are the biggest part of it, but we have also borrowed from Lord Tyrell, the Iron Bank of Braavos, and several Tyroshi trading cartels. Of late I've had to turn to the Faith. The High Septon haggles worse than a Dornish fishmonger.\"\n\nNed was aghast. \"Aerys Targaryen left a treasury flowing with gold. How could you let this happen?\"\n\nLittlefinger gave a shrug. \"The master of coin finds the money. The king and the Hand spend it.\"\n\n\"I will not believe that Jon Arryn allowed Robert to beggar the realm,\" Ned said hotly.\n\nGrand Maester Pycelle shook his great bald head, his chains clinking softly. \"Lord Arryn was a prudent man, but I fear that His Grace does not always listen to wise counsel.\"\n\n\"My royal brother loves tournaments and feasts,\" Renly Baratheon said, \"and he loathes what he calls \"counting coppers.\"\"\n\n\"I will speak with His Grace,\" Ned said. \"This tourney is an extravagance the realm cannot afford.\"\n\n\"Speak to him as you will,\" Lord Renly said, \"we had still best make our plans.\"\n\n\"Another day,\" Ned said. Perhaps too sharply, from the looks they gave him. He would have to remember that he was no longer in Winterfell, where only the king stood higher; here, he was but first among equals. \"Forgive me, my lords,\" he said in a softer tone. \"I am tired. Let us calla halt for today and resume when we are fresher.\" He did not ask for their consent, but stood abruptly, nodded at them all, and made for the door."
},
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"value": "Outside, wagons and riders were still pouring through the castle gates, and the yard was a chaos of mud and horseflesh and shouting men. The king had not yet arrived, he was told. Since the ugliness on the Trident, the Starks and their household had ridden well ahead of the main column, the better to separate themselves from the Lannisters and the growing tension. Robert had hardly been seen; the talk was he was traveling in the huge wheelhouse, drunk as often as not. If so, he might be hours behind, but he would still be here too soon for Ned's liking. He had only to look at Sansa's face to feel the rage twisting inside him once again. The last fortnight of their journey had been a misery. Sansa blamed Arya and told her that it should have been Nymeria who died. And Arya was lost after she heard what had happened to her butcher's boy. Sansa cried herself to sleep, Arya brooded silently all daylong, and Eddard Stark dreamed of a frozen hell reserved for the Starks of Winterfell.\n\nHe crossed the outer yard, passed under a portcullis into the inner bailey, and was walking toward what he thought was the Tower of the Hand when Littlefinger appeared in front of him. \"You're going the wrong way, Stark. Come with me.\"\n\nHesitantly, Ned followed. Littlefinger led him into a tower, down a stair, across a small sunken courtyard, and along a deserted corridor where empty suits of armor stood sentinel along the walls. They were relics of the Targaryens, black steel with dragon scales cresting their helms, now dusty and forgotten. \"This is not the way to my chambers,\" Ned said.\n\n\"Did I say it was? I'm leading you to the dungeons to slit your throat and seal your corpse up behind a wall,\" Littlefinger replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. \"We have no time for this, Stark. Your wife awaits.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What game are you playing, Littlefinger?"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn is at Winterfell, hundreds of leagues from here.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" Littlefinger's grey-green eyes glittered with amusement. \"Then it appears someone has managed an astonishing impersonation. For the last time, come. Or don't come, and I'll keep her for myself.\" He hurried down the steps.\n\nNed followed him warily, wondering if this day would ever end. He had no taste for these intrigues, but he was beginning to realize that they were meat and mead to a manlike Littlefinger.\n\nAt the foot of the steps was a heavy door of oak andiron. Petyr Baelish lifted the crossbar and gestured Ned through. They stepped out into the ruddy glow of dusk, on a rocky bluff high above the river. \"We're outside the castle,\" Ned said.\n\n\"You area hard man to fool, Stark,\" Littlefinger said with a smirk. \"Was it the sun that gave it away, or the sky? Follow me. There are niches cut in the rock. Try not to fall to your death, Catelyn would never understand.\" With that, he was over the side of the cliff, descending as quick as a monkey.\n\nNed studied the rocky face of the bluff fora moment, then followed more slowly. The niches were there, as Littlefinger had promised, shallow cuts that would be invisible from below, unless you knew just whereto look for them. The river was along, dizzying distance below. Ned kept his face pressed to the rock and tried not to look down anymore often than he had to.\n\nWhen at last he reached the bottom, a narrow, muddy trail along the water's edge, Littlefinger was lazing against a rock and eating an apple. He was almost down to the core. \"You are growing old and slow, Stark,\" he said, flipping the apple casually into the rushing water. \"No matter, we ride the rest of the way.\" He had two horses waiting. Ned mounted up and trotted behind him, down the trail and into the city."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Finally Baelish drew rein in front of a ramshackle building, three stories, timbered, its windows bright with lamplight in the gathering dusk. The sounds of music and raucous laughter drifted out and floated over the water. Beside the door swung an ornate oil lamp on a heavy chain, with a globe of leaded red glass.\n\nNed Stark dismounted in a fury. \"A brothel,\" he said as he seized Littlefinger by the shoulder and spun him around. \"You've brought me all this way to take me to a brothel.\"\n\n\"Your wife is inside,\" Littlefinger said.\n\nIt was the final insult. \"Brandon was too kind to you,\" Ned said as he slammed the small man back against a wall and shoved his dagger up under the little pointed chin beard.\n\n\"My lord, no,\" an urgent voice called out. \"He speaks the truth.\" There were footsteps behind him.\n\nNed spun, knife in hand, as an old white-haired man hurried toward them. He was dressed in brown roughspun, and the soft flesh under his chin wobbled as he ran. \"This is no business of yours,\" Ned began; then, suddenly, the recognition came. He lowered the dagger, astonished. \"Ser Rodrik?\"\n\nRodrik Cassel nodded. \"Your lady awaits you upstairs.\"\n\nNed was lost. \"Catelyn is truly here? This is not some strange jape of Littlefinger's?\" He sheathed his blade.\n\n\"Would that it were, Stark,\" Littlefinger said. \"Follow me, and try to look a shade more lecherous and a shade less like the King's Hand. It would not do to have you recognized. Perhaps you could fondle abreast or two, just in passing.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They went inside, through a crowded common room where a fat woman was singing bawdy songs while pretty young girls in linen shifts and wisps of colored silk pressed themselves against their lovers and dandled on their laps. No one paid Ned the least bit of attention. Ser Rodrik waited below while Littlefinger led him up to the third floor, along a corridor, and through a door.\n\nInside, Catelyn was waiting. She cried out when she saw him, ran to him, and embraced him fiercely.\n\n\"My lady,\" Ned whispered in wonderment.\n\n\"Oh, very good,\" said Littlefinger, closing the door. \"You recognized her.\"\n\n\"I feared you'd never come, my lord,\" she whispered against his chest. \"Petyr has been bringing me reports. He told me of your troubles with Arya and the young prince. How are my girls?\"\n\n\"Both in mourning, and full of anger,\" he told her. \"Cat, I do not understand. What are you doing in King's Landing? What's happened?\" Ned asked his wife. \"Is it Bran? Is he...\" Dead was the word that came to his lips, but he could not say it.\n\n\"It is Bran, but not as you think,\" Catelyn said.\n\nNed was lost. \"Then how? Why are you here, my love? What is this place?\"\n\n\"Just what it appears,\" Littlefinger said, easing himself onto a window seat. \"A brothel. Can you think of a less likely place to find a Catelyn Tully?\" He smiled. \"As it chances, I own this particular establishment, so arrangements were easily made. I am most anxious to keep the Lannisters from learning that Cat is herein King's Landing.\""
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why?\" Ned asked. He saw her hands then, the awkward way she held them, the raw red scars, the stiffness of the last two fingers on her left. \"You've been hurt.\" He took her hands in his own, turned them over. \"Gods. Those are deep cuts... a gash from a sword or... how did this happen, my lady?\"\n\nCatelyn slid a dagger out from under her cloak and placed it in his hand. \"This blade was sent to open Bran's throat and spill his life's blood.\"\n\nNed's head jerked up. \"But... who... why would...\"\n\nShe put a finger to his lips. \"Let me tell it all, my love. It will go faster that way. Listen.\"\n\nSo he listened, and she told it all, from the fire in the library tower to Varys and the guardsmen and Littlefinger. And when she was done, Eddard Stark sat dazed beside the table, the dagger in his hand. Bran's wolf had saved the boy's life, he thought dully. What was it that Jon had said when they found the pups in the snow? Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord. And he had killed Sansa's, and for what? Was it guilt he was feeling? Or fear? If the gods had sent these wolves, what folly had he done?\n\nPainfully, Ned forced his thoughts back to the dagger and what it meant. \"The Imp's dagger,\" he repeated. It made no sense. His hand curled around the smooth dragonbone hilt, and he slammed the blade into the table, felt it bite into the wood. It stood mocking him. \"Why should Tyrion Lannister want Bran dead? The boy has never done him harm.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Do you Starks have nought but snow between your ears?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Littlefinger asked. \"The Imp would never have acted alone.\"\n\nNed rose and paced the length of the room. \"If the queen had a role in this or, gods forbid, the king himself... no, I will not believe that.\" Yet even as he said the words, he remembered that chill morning on the barrowlands, and Robert's talk of sending hired knives after the Targaryen princess. He remembered Rhaegar's infant son, the red ruin of his skull, and the way the king had turned away, as he had turned away in Darry's audience hall not so long ago. He could still hear Sansa pleading, as Lyanna had pleaded once.\n\n\"Most likely the king did not know,\" Littlefinger said. \"It would not be the first time. Our good Robert is practiced at closing his eyes to things he would rather not see.\"\n\nNed had no reply for that. The face of the butcher's boy swam up before his eyes, cloven almost in two, and afterward the king had said not a word. His head was pounding.\n\nLittlefinger sauntered over to the table, wrenched the knife from the wood. \"The accusation is treason either way. Accuse the king and you will dance with Ilyn Payne before the words are out of your mouth. The queen... if you can find proof, and if you can make Robert listen, then perhaps...\"\n\n\"We have proof,\" Ned said. \"We have the dagger.\"\n\n\"This?\" Littlefinger flipped the knife casually end over end. \"A sweet piece of steel, but it cuts two ways, my lord. The Imp will no doubt swear the blade was lost or stolen while he was at Winterfell, and with his hireling dead, who is thereto give him the lie?\" He tossed the knife lightly to Ned. \"My counsel is to drop that in the river and forget that it was ever forged.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned regarded him coldly. \"Lord Baelish, I am a Stark of Winterfell. My son lies crippled, perhaps dying. He would be dead, and Catelyn with him, but fora wolf pup we found in the snow. If you truly believe I could forget that, you areas big a fool now as when you took up sword against my brother.\"\n\n\"A fool I maybe, Stark... yet I'm still here, while your brother has been moldering in his frozen grave for some fourteen years now. If you are so eager to molder beside him, far be it from me to dissuade you, but I would rather not be included in the party, thank you very much.\"\n\n\"You would be the last man I would willingly include in any party, Lord Baelish.\"\n\n\"You wound me deeply.\" Littlefinger placed a handover his heart. \"For my part, I always found you Starks a tiresome lot, but Cat seems to have become attached to you, for reasons I cannot comprehend. I shall try to keep you alive for her sake. A fool's task, admittedly, but I could never refuse your wife anything.\"\n\n\"I told Petyr our suspicions about Jon Arryn's death,\" Catelyn said. \"He has promised to help you find the truth.\"\n\nThat was not news that Eddard Stark welcomed, but it was true enough that they needed help, and Littlefinger had been almost a brother to Cat once. It would not be the first time that Ned had been forced to make common cause with a man he despised. \"Very well,\" he said, thrusting the dagger into his belt. \"You spoke of Varys. Does the eunuch know all of it?\"\n\n\"Not from my lips,\" Catelyn said. \"You did not wed a fool, Eddard Stark. But Varys has ways of learning things that no man could know. He has some dark art, Ned, I swear it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He has spies, that is well known,\" Ned said, dismissive.\n\n\"It is more than that,\" Catelyn insisted. \"Ser Rodrik spoke to Ser Aron Santagar in all secrecy, yet somehow the Spider knew of their conversation. I fear that man.\"\n\nLittlefinger smiled. \"Leave Lord Varys tome, sweet lady. If you will permit me a small obscenity-and where better for it than here-I hold the man's balls in the palm of my hand.\" He cupped his fingers, smiling. \"Or would, if he were a man, or had any balls. You see, if the pie is opened, the birds begin to sing, and Varys would not like that. Were I you, I would worry more about the Lannisters and less about the eunuch.\"\n\nNed did not need Littlefinger to tell him that. He was thinking back to the day Arya had been found, to the look on the queen's face when she said, We have a wolf, so soft and quiet. He was thinking of the boy Mycah, of Jon Arryn's sudden death, of Bran's fall, of old mad Aerys Targaryen dying on the floor of his throne room while his life's blood dried on a gilded blade. \"My lady,\" he said, turning to Catelyn, \"there is nothing more you can do here. I want you to return to Winterfell at once. If there was one assassin, there could be others. Whoever ordered Bran's death will learn soon enough that the boy still lives.\"\n\n\"I had hoped to seethe girls...\" Catelyn said.\n\n\"That would be most unwise,\" Littlefinger put in. \"The Red Keep is full of curious eyes, and children talk.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He speaks truly, my love,\" Ned told her. He embraced her. \"Take Ser Rodrik and ride for Winterfell. I will watch over the girls. Go home to our sons and keep them safe.\"\n\n\"As you say, my lord.\" Catelyn lifted her face, and Ned kissed her. Her maimed fingers clutched against his back with a desperate strength, as if to hold him safe forever in the shelter of her arms.\n\n\"Would the lord and ladylike the use of a bedchamber?\" asked Littlefinger. \"I should warn you, Stark, we usually charge for that sort of thing around here.\"\n\n\"A moment alone, that's all I ask,\" Catelyn said.\n\n\"Very well.\" Littlefinger strolled to the door. \"Don't be too long. It is past time the Hand and I returned to the castle, before our absence is noted.\"\n\nCatelyn went to him and took his hands in her own. \"I will not forget the help you gave me, Petyr. When your men came for me, I did not know whether they were taking me to a friend or an enemy. I have found you more than a friend. I have found a brother I'd thought lost.\"\n\nPetyr Baelish smiled. \"I am desperately sentimental, sweet lady. Best not tell anyone. I have spent years convincing the court that I am wicked and cruel, and I should hate to see all that hard work go for naught.\"\n\nNed believed not a word of that, but he kept his voice polite as he said, \"You have my thanks as well, Lord Baelish.\"\n\n\"Oh, now there's a treasure,\" Littlefinger said, exiting.\n\nWhen the door had closed behind him, Ned turned back to his wife. \"Once you are home, send word to Helman Tallhart and Galbart Glover under my seal. They are to raise a hundred bowmen each and fortify Moat Cailin. Two hundred determined archers can hold the Neck against an army. Instruct Lord Manderly that he is to strengthen and repair all his defenses at White Harbor, and see that they are well manned. And from this day on, I want a careful watch kept over Theon Greyjoy. If there is war, we shall have sore need of his father's fleet.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"War?\" The fear was plain on Catelyn's face.\n\n\"It will not come to that,\" Ned promised her, praying it was true. He took her in his arms again. \"The Lannisters are merciless in the face of weakness, as Aerys Targaryen learned to his sorrow, but they would not dare attack the north without all the power of the realm behind them, and that they shall not have. I must play out this fool's masquerade as if nothing is amiss. Remember why I came here, my love. If I find proof that the Lannisters murdered Jon Arryn...\"\n\nHe felt Catelyn tremble in his arms. Her scarred hands clung to him. \"If,\" she said, \"what then, my love?\"\n\nThat was the most dangerous part, Ned knew. \"All justice flows from the king,\" he told her. \"When I know the truth, I must go to Robert.\" And pray that he is the man I think he is, he finished silently, and not the man I fear he has become."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Are you certain that you must leave us so soon?\" the Lord Commander asked him.\n\n\"Past certain, Lord Mormont,\" Tyrion replied. \"My brother Jaime will be wondering what has become of me. He may decide that you have convinced me to take the black.\"\n\n\"Would that I could.\" Mormont picked up a crab claw and cracked it in his fist. Old as he was, the Lord Commander still had the strength of a bear. \"You're a cunning man, Tyrion. We have need of men of your sort on the Wall.\"\n\nTyrion grinned. \"Then I shall scour the Seven Kingdoms for dwarfs and ship them all to you, Lord Mormont.\" As they laughed, he sucked the meat from a crab leg and reached for another. The crabs had arrived from Eastwatch only this morning, packed in a barrel of snow, and they were succulent.\n\nSer Alliser Thorne was the only man at table who did not so much as crack a smile. \"Lannister mocks us.\"\n\n\"Only you, Ser Alliser,\" Tyrion said. This time the laughter round the table had a nervous, uncertain quality to it.\n\nThorne's black eyes fixed on Tyrion with loathing. \"You have a bold tongue for someone who is less than half a man. Perhaps you and I should visit the yard together.\"\n\n\"Why?\" asked Tyrion. \"The crabs are here.\"\n\nThe remark brought more guffaws from the others. Ser Alliser stood up, his mouth a tight line. \"Come and make your japes with steel in your hand.\"\n\nTyrion looked pointedly at his right hand. \"Why, I have steel in my hand, Ser Alliser, although it appears to be a crab fork. Shall we duel?\" He hopped upon his chair and began poking at Thorne's chest with the tiny fork. Roars of laughter filled the tower room. Bits of crab flew from the Lord Commander's mouth as he began to gasp and choke. Even his raven joined in, cawing loudly from above the window. \"Duel! Duel! Duel!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Alliser Thorne walked from the room so stiffly it looked as though he had a dagger up his butt.\n\nMormont was still gasping for breath. Tyrion pounded him on the back. \"To the victor goes the spoils,\" he called out. \"I claim Thorne's share of the crabs.\"\n\nFinally the Lord Commander recovered himself. \"You area wicked man, to provoke our Ser Alliser so,\" he scolded.\n\nTyrion seated himself and took a sip of wine. \"If a man paints a target on his chest, he should expect that sooner or later someone will loose an arrow at him. I have seen dead men with more humor than your Ser Alliser.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" objected the Lord Steward, Bowen Marsh, a man as round and red as a pomegranate. \"You ought to hear the droll names he gives the lads he trains.\"\n\nTyrion had heard a few of those droll names. \"I'll wager the lads have a few names for him as well,\" he said. \"Chip the ice off your eyes, my good lords. Ser Alliser Thorne should be mucking out your stables, not drilling your young warriors.\"\n\n\"The Watch has no shortage of stableboys,\" Lord Mormont grumbled. \"That seems to be all they send us these days. Stableboys and sneak thieves and rapers. Ser Alliser is an anointed knight, one of the few to take the black since I have been Lord Commander. He fought bravely at King's Landing.\"\n\n\"On the wrong side,\" Ser Jaremy Rykker commented dryly. \"I ought to know, I was thereon the battlements beside him. Tywin Lannister gave us a splendid choice. Take the black, or see our heads on spikes before evenfall. No offense intended, Tyrion.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"None taken, Ser Jaremy."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "My father is very fond of spiked heads, especially those of people who have annoyed him in some fashion. And a face as noble as yours, well, no doubt he saw you decorating the city wall above the King's Gate. I think you would have looked very striking up there.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" Ser Jaremy replied with a sardonic smile.\n\nLord Commander Mormont cleared his throat. \"Sometimes I fear Ser Alliser saw you true, Tyrion. You do mock us and our noble purpose here.\"\n\nTyrion shrugged. \"We all need to be mocked from time to time, Lord Mormont, lest we start to take ourselves too seriously. More wine, please.\" He held out his cup.\n\nAs Rykker filled it for him, Bowen Marsh said, \"You have a great thirst fora small man.\"\n\n\"Oh, I think that Lord Tyrion is quite a large man,\" Maester Aemon said from the far end of the table. He spoke softly, yet the high officers of the Night's Watch all fell quiet, the better to hear what the ancient had to say. \"I think he is a giant come among us, here at the end of the world.\"\n\nTyrion answered gently, \"I've been called many things, my lord, but giant is seldom one of them.\"\n\n\"Nonetheless,\" Maester Aemon said as his clouded, milk-white eyes moved to Tyrion's face, \"I think it is true.\"\n\nFor once, Tyrion Lannister found himself at a loss for words. He could only bow his head politely and say, \"You are too kind, Maester Aemon.\"\n\nThe blind man smiled. He was a tiny thing, wrinkled and hairless, shrunken beneath the weight of a hundred years so his maester's collar with its links of many metals hung loose about his throat. \"I have been called many things, my lord,\" he said, \"but kind is seldom one of them.\" This time Tyrion himself led the laughter."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Much later, when the serious business of eating was done and the others had left, Mormont offered Tyrion a chair beside the fire and a cup of mulled spirits so strong they brought tears to his eyes. \"The kingsroad can be perilous this far north,\" the Lord Commander told him as they drank.\n\n\"I have Jyck and Morrec,\" Tyrion said, \"and Yoren is riding south again.\"\n\n\"Yoren is only one man. The Watch shall escort you as far as Winterfell,\" Mormont announced in atone that brooked no argument. \"Three men should be sufficient.\"\n\n\"If you insist, my lord,\" Tyrion said. \"You might send young Snow. He would be glad fora chance to see his brothers.\"\n\nMormont frowned through his thick grey beard. \"Snow? Oh, the Stark bastard. I think not. The young ones need to forget the lives they left behind them, the brothers and mothers and all that. A visit home would only stir up feelings best left alone. I know these things. My own blood kin... my sister Maege rules Bear Island now, since my son's dishonor. I have nieces I have never seen.\" He took a swallow. \"Besides, Jon Snow is only a boy. You shall have three strong swords, to keep you safe.\"\n\n\"I am touched by your concern, Lord Mormont.\" The strong drink was making Tyrion light-headed, but not so drunk that he did not realize that the Old Bear wanted something from him. \"I hope I can repay your kindness.\"\n\n\"You can,\" Mormont said bluntly. \"Your sister sits beside the king. Your brother is a great knight, and your father the most powerful lord in the Seven Kingdoms. Speak to them for us. Tell them of our need here. You have seen for yourself, my lord. The Night's Watch is dying. Our strength is less than a thousand now. Six hundred here, two hundred in the Shadow Tower, even fewer at Eastwatch, and a scant third of those fighting men. The Wallis a hundred leagues long. Think on that. Should an attack come, I have three men to defend each mile of wall.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Three and a third,\" Tyrion said with a yawn.\n\nMormont scarcely seemed to hear him. The old man warmed his hands before the fire. \"I sent Benjen Stark to search after Yohn Royce's son, lost on his first ranging. The Royce boy was green as summer grass, yet he insisted on the honor of his own command, saying it was his due as a knight. I did not wish to offend his lord father, so I yielded. I sent him outwith two men I deemed as good as any in the Watch. More fool I.\"\n\n\"Fool,\" the raven agreed. Tyrion glanced up. The bird peered down at him with those beady black eyes, ruffling its wings. \"Fool,\" it called again. Doubtless old Mormont would take it amiss if he throttled the creature. A pity.\n\nThe Lord Commander took no notice of the irritating bird. \"Gared was near as old as I am and longer on the Wall,\" he went on, \"yet it would seem he forswore himself and fled. I should never have believed it, not of him, but Lord Eddard sent me his head from Winterfell. Of Royce, there is no word. One deserter and two men lost, and now Ben Stark too has gone missing.\" He sighed deeply. \"Who am Ito send searching after him? In two years I will be seventy. Too old and too weary for the burden I bear, yet if I set it down, who will pick it up? Alliser Thorne? Bowen Marsh? I would have to be as blind as Maester Aemon not to see what they are. The Night's Watch has become an army of sullen boys and tired old men. Apart from the men at my table tonight, I have perhaps twenty who can read, and even fewer who can think, or plan, or lead. Once the Watch spent its summers building, and each Lord Commander raised the Wall higher than he found it. Now it is all we can do to stay alive.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was in deadly earnest, Tyrion realized. He felt faintly embarrassed for the old man. Lord Mormont had spent a good part of his life on the Wall, and he needed to believe if those years were to have any meaning. \"I promise, the king will hear of your need,\" Tyrion said gravely, \"and I will speak to my father and my brother Jaime as well.\" And he would. Tyrion Lannister was as good as his word. He left the rest unsaid; that King Robert would ignore him, Lord Tywin would ask if he had taken leave of his senses, and Jaime would only laugh.\n\n\"You area young man, Tyrion,\" Mormont said. \"How many winters have you seen?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Eight, nine. I misremember.\"\n\n\"And all of them short.\"\n\n\"As you say, my lord.\" He had been born in the dead of winter, a terrible cruel one that the maesters said had lasted near three years, but Tyrion's earliest memories were of spring.\n\n\"When I was a boy, it was said that along summer always meant along winter to come. This summer has lasted nine years, Tyrion, and a tenth will soon be upon us. Think on that.\"\n\n\"When I was a boy,\" Tyrion replied, \"my wet nurse told me that one day, if men were good, the gods would give the world a summer without ending. Perhaps we've been better than we thought, and the Great Summer is finally at hand.\" He grinned.\n\nThe Lord Commander did not seem amused. \"You are not fool enough to believe that, my lord. Already the days grow shorter. There can be no mistake, Aemon has had letters from the Citadel, findings in accord with his own. The end of summer stares us in the face.\" Mormont reached out and clutched Tyrion tightly by the hand. \"You must make them understand. I tell you, my lord, the darkness is coming. There are wild things in the woods, direwolves and mammoths and snow bears the size of aurochs, and I have seen darker shapes in my dreams.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"In your dreams,\" Tyrion echoed, thinking how badly he needed another strong drink.\n\nMormont was deaf to the edge in his voice. \"The fisherfolk near Eastwatch have glimpsed white walkers on the shore.\"\n\nThis time Tyrion could not hold his tongue. \"The fisherfolk of Lannisport often glimpse merlings.\"\n\n\"Denys Mallister writes that the mountain people are moving south, slipping past the Shadow Tower in numbers greater than ever before. They are running, my lord... but running from what?\" Lord Mormont moved to the window and stared out into the night. \"These are old bones, Lannister, but they have never felt a chill like this. Tell the king what I say, I pray you. Winter is coming, and when the Long Night falls, only the Night's Watch will stand between the realm and the darkness that sweeps from the north. The gods help us all if we are not ready.\"\n\n\"The gods help me if I do not get some sleep tonight. Yoren is determined to ride at first light.\" Tyrion got to his feet, sleepy from wine and tired of doom. \"I thank you for all the courtesies you have done me, Lord Mormont.\"\n\n\"Tell them, Tyrion. Tell them and make them believe. That is all the thanks I need.\" He whistled, and his raven flew to him and perched on his shoulder. Mormont smiled and gave the bird some corn from his pocket, and that was how Tyrion left him.\n\nIt was bitter cold outside. Bundled thickly in his furs, Tyrion Lannister pulled on his gloves and nodded to the poor frozen wretches standing sentry outside the Commander's Keep. He set off across the yard for his own chambers in the King's Tower, walking as briskly as his legs could manage. Patches of snow crunched beneath his feet as his boots broke the night's crust, and his breath steamed before him like a banner. He shoved his hands into his armpits and walked faster, praying that Morrec had remembered to warm his bed with hot bricks from the fire."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Behind the King's Tower, the Wall glimmered in the light of the moon, immense and mysterious. Tyrion stopped fora moment to lookup at it. His legs ached of cold and haste.\n\nSuddenly a strange madness took hold of him, a yearning to look once more off the end of the world. It would be his last chance, he thought; tomorrow he would ride south, and he could not imagine why he would ever want to return to this frozen desolation. The King's Tower was before him, with its promise of warmth and a soft bed, yet Tyrion found himself walking past it, toward the vast pale palisade of the Wall.\n\nA wooden stair ascended the south face, anchored on huge rough-hewn beams sunk deep into the ice and frozen in place. Back and forth it switched, clawing its way upward as crooked as a bolt of lightning. The black brothers assured him that it was much stronger than it looked, but Tyrion's legs were cramping too badly for him to even contemplate the ascent. He went instead to the iron cage beside the well, clambered inside, and yanked hard on the bell rope, three quick pulls.\n\nHe had to wait what seemed an eternity, standing there inside the bars with the Wall to his back. Long enough for Tyrion to begin to wonder why he was doing this. He had just about decided to forget his sudden whim and go to bed when the cage gave a jerk and began to ascend.\n\nHe moved upward slowly, by fits and starts at first, then more smoothly. The ground fell away beneath him, the cage swung, and Tyrion wrapped his hands around the iron bars. He could feel the cold of the metal even through his gloves. Morrec had afire burning in his room, he noted with approval, but the Lord Commander's tower was dark. The Old Bear had more sense than he did, it seemed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then he was above the towers, still inching his way upward. Castle Black lay below him, etched in moonlight. You could see how stark and empty it was from up here; windowless keeps, crumbling walls, courtyards choked with broken stone. Farther off, he could seethe lights of Mole's Town, the little village half a league south along the kingsroad, and here and there the bright glitter of moonlight on water where icy streams descended from the mountain heights to cut across the plains. The rest of the world was a bleak emptiness of windswept hills and rocky fields spotted with snow.\n\nFinally a thick voice behind him said, \"Seven hells, it's the dwarf,\" and the cage jerked to a sudden stop and hung there, swinging slowly back and forth, the ropes creaking.\n\n\"Bring him in, damn it.\" There was a grunt and aloud groaning of wood as the cage slid sideways and then the Wall was beneath him. Tyrion waited until the swinging had stopped before he pushed open the cage door and hopped down onto the ice. A heavy figure in black was leaning on the winch, while a second held the cage with a gloved hand. Their faces were muffled in woolen scarves so only their eyes showed, and they were plump with layers of wool and leather, black on black. \"And what will you be wanting, this time of night?\" the one by the winch asked.\n\n\"A last look.\"\n\nThe men exchanged sour glances. \"Look all you want,\" the other one said. \"Just have a care you don't falloff, little man. The Old Bear would have our hides.\" A small wooden shack stood under the great crane, and Tyrion saw the dull glow of a brazier and felt a brief gust of warmth when the winch men opened the door and went back inside. And then he was alone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was bitingly cold up here, and the wind pulled at his clothes like an insistent lover."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The top of the Wall was wider than the kingsroad often was, so Tyrion had no fear of falling, although the footing was slicker than he would have liked. The brothers spread crushed stone across the walkways, but the weight of countless footsteps would melt the Wall beneath, so the ice would seem to grow around the gravel, swallowing it, until the path was bare again and it was time to crush more stone.\n\nStill, it was nothing that Tyrion could not manage. He looked off to the east and west, at the Wall stretching before him, avast white road with no beginning and no end and a dark abyss on either side. West, he decided, for no special reason, and he began to walk that way, following the pathway nearest the north edge, where the gravel looked freshest.\n\nHis bare cheeks were ruddy with the cold, and his legs complained more loudly with every step, but Tyrion ignored them. The wind swirled around him, gravel crunched beneath his boots, while ahead the white ribbon followed the lines of the hills, rising higher and higher, until it was lost beyond the western horizon. He passed a massive catapult, as tall as a city wall, its base sunk deep into the Wall. The throwing arm had been taken off for repairs and then forgotten; it lay there like a broken toy, half-embedded in the ice.\n\nOn the far side of the catapult, a muffled voice called out a challenge. \"Who goes there? Halt!\"\n\nTyrion stopped. \"If I halt too long I'll freeze in place, Jon,\" he said as a shaggy pale shape slid toward him silently and sniffed at his furs. \"Hello, Ghost.\"\n\nJon Snow moved closer. He looked bigger and heavier in his layers of fur and leather, the hood of his cloak pulled down over his face. \"Lannister,\" he said, yanking loose the scarf to uncover his mouth. \"This is the last place I would have expected to see you.\" He carried a heavy spear tipped in iron, taller than he was, and a sword hung at his side in a leather sheath. Across his chest was a gleaming black warhorn, banded with silver."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"This is the last place I would have expected to be seen,\" Tyrion admitted."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I was captured by a whim. If I touch Ghost, will he chew my hand off?\"\n\n\"Not with me here,\" Jon promised.\n\nTyrion scratched the white wolf behind the ears. The red eyes watched him impassively. The beast came up as high as his chest now. Another year, and Tyrion had the gloomy feeling he'd be looking up at him. \"What are you doing up here tonight?\" he asked. \"Besides freezing your manhood off...\"\n\n\"I have drawn night guard,\" Jon said. \"Again. Ser Alliser has kindly arranged for the watch commander to take a special interest in me. He seems to think that if they keep me awake half the night, I'll fall asleep during morning drill. So far I have disappointed him.\"\n\nTyrion grinned. \"And has Ghost learned to juggle yet?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jon, smiling, \"but Grenn held his own against Halder this morning, and Pyp is no longer dropping his sword quite so often as he did.\"\n\n\"Pyp?\"\n\n\"Pypar is his real name. The small boy with the large ears. He saw me working with Grenn and asked for help. Thorne had never even shown him the proper way to grip a sword.\" He turned to look north. \"I have a mile of Wall to guard. Will you walk with me?\"\n\n\"If you walk slowly,\" Tyrion said.\n\n\"The watch commander tells me I must walk, to keep my blood from freezing, but he never said how fast.\"\n\nThey walked, with Ghost pacing along beside Jon like a white shadow. \"I leave on the morrow,\" Tyrion said.\n\n\"I know.\" Jon sounded strangely sad.\n\n\"I plan to stop at Winterfell on the way south. If there is any message that you would like me to deliver...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell Robb that I'm going to command the Night's Watch and keep him safe, so he might as well take up needlework with the girls and have Mikken meltdown his sword for horseshoes.\"\n\n\"Your brother is bigger than me,\" Tyrion said with a laugh. \"I decline to deliver any message that might get me killed.\"\n\n\"Rickon will ask when I'm coming home. Try to explain where I've gone, if you can. Tell him he can have all my things while I'm away, he'll like that.\"\n\nPeople seemed to be asking a great deal of him today, Tyrion Lannister thought. \"You could put all this in a letter, you know.\"\n\n\"Rickon can't read yet. Bran...\" He stopped suddenly. \"I don't know what message to send to Bran. Help him, Tyrion.\"\n\n\"What help could I give him? I am no maester, to ease his pain. I have no spells to give him back his legs.\"\n\n\"You gave me help when I needed it,\" Jon Snow said.\n\n\"I gave you nothing,\" Tyrion said. \"Words.\"\n\n\"Then give your words to Bran too.\"\n\n\"You're asking a lame man to teach a cripple how to dance,\" Tyrion said. \"However sincere the lesson, the result is likely to be grotesque. Still, I know what it is to love a brother, Lord Snow. I will give Bran whatever small help is in my power.\"\n\n\"Thank you, my lord of Lannister.\" He pulled off his glove and offered his bare hand. \"Friend.\"\n\nTyrion found himself oddly touched. \"Most of my kin are bastards,\" he said with awry smile, \"but you're the first I've had to friend.\" He pulled a glove off with his teeth and clasped Snow by the hand, flesh against flesh. The boy's grip was firm and strong."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he had donned his glove again, Jon Snow turned abruptly and walked to the low, icy northern parapet. Beyond him the Wall fell away sharply; beyond him there was only the darkness and the wild. Tyrion followed him, and side by side they stood upon the edge of the world.\n\nThe Night's Watch permitted the forest to come no closer than half a mile of the north face of the Wall. The thickets of ironwood and sentinel and oak that had once grown there had been harvested centuries ago, to create abroad swath of open ground through which no enemy could hope to pass unseen. Tyrion had heard that elsewhere along the Wall, between the three fortresses, the wildwood had come creeping back over the decades, that there were places where grey-green sentinels and pale white weirwoods had taken root in the shadow of the Wall itself, but Castle Black had a prodigious appetite for firewood, and here the forest was still kept at bay by the axes of the black brothers.\n\nIt was never far, though. From up here Tyrion could see it, the dark trees looming beyond the stretch of open ground, like a second wall built parallel to the first, a wall of night. Few axes had ever swung in that black wood, where even the moonlight could not penetrate the ancient tangle of root and thorn and grasping limb. Out there the trees grew huge, and the rangers said they seemed to brood and knew not men. It was small wonder the Night's Watch named it the haunted forest.\n\nAshe stood there and looked at all that darkness with no fires burning anywhere, with the wind blowing and the cold like a spear in his guts, Tyrion Lannister felt as though he could almost believe the talk of the Others, the enemy in the night. His jokes of grumkins and snarks no longer seemed quite so droll."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My uncle is out there,\" Jon Snow said softly, leaning on his spear as he stared off into the darkness. \"The first night they sent me up here, I thought, Uncle Benjen will ride back tonight, and I'll see him first and blow the horn. He never came, though. Not that night and not any night.\"\n\n\"Give him time,\" Tyrion said.\n\nFar off to the north, a wolf began to howl. Another voice picked up the call, then another. Ghost cocked his head and listened. \"If he doesn't comeback,\" Jon Snow promised, \"Ghost and I will go find him.\" He put his hand on the direwolf's head.\n\n\"I believe you,\" Tyrion said, but what he thought was, And who will go find you? He shivered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her father had been fighting with the council again. Arya could see it on his face when he came to table, late again, as he had been so often. The first course, a thick sweet soup made with pumpkins, had already been taken away when Ned Stark strode into the Small Hall. They called it that to set it apart from the Great Hall, where the king could feast a thousand, but it was along room with a high vaulted ceiling and bench space for two hundred at its trestle tables.\n\n\"My lord,\" Jory said when Father entered. He rose to his feet, and the rest of the guard rose with him. Each man wore anew cloak, heavy grey wool with a white satin border. A hand of beaten silver clutched the woolen folds of each cloak and marked their wearers as men of the Hand's household guard. There were only fifty of them, so most of the benches were empty.\n\n\"Be seated,\" Eddard Stark said. \"I see you have started without me. I am pleased to know there are still some men of sense in this city.\" He signaled for the meal to resume. The servants began bringing out platters of ribs, roasted in a crust of garlic and herbs.\n\n\"The talk in the yard is we shall have a tourney, my lord,\" Jory said as he resumed his seat. \"They say that knights will come from allover the realm to joust and feast in honor of your appointment as Hand of the King.\"\n\nArya could see that her father was not very happy about that. \"Do they also say this is the last thing in the world I would have wished?\"\n\nSansa's eyes had grown wide as the plates. \"A tourney,\" she breathed. She was seated between Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, as far from Arya as she could get without drawing a reproach from Father. \"Will we be permitted to go, Father?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You know my feelings, Sansa."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It seems I must arrange Robert's games and pretend to be honored for his sake. That does not mean I must subject my daughters to this folly.\"\n\n\"Oh, please,\" Sansa said. \"I want to see.\"\n\nSepta Mordane spoke up. \"Princess Myrcella will be there, my lord, and her younger than Lady Sansa. All the ladies of the court will be expected at a grand event like this, and as the tourney is in your honor, it would look queer if your family did not attend.\"\n\nFather looked pained. \"I suppose so. Very well, I shall arrange a place for you, Sansa.\" He saw Arya. \"For both of you.\"\n\n\"I don't care about their stupid tourney,\" Arya said. She knew Prince Joffrey would be there, and she hated Prince Joffrey.\n\nSansa lifted her head. \"It will be a splendid event. You shan't be wanted.\"\n\nAnger flashed across Father's face. \"Enough, Sansa. More of that and you will change my mind. I am weary unto death of this endless war you two are fighting. You are sisters. I expect you to behave like sisters, is that understood?\"\n\nSansa bit her lip and nodded. Arya lowered her face to stare sullenly at her plate. She could feel tears stinging her eyes. She rubbed them away angrily, determined not to cry.\n\nThe only sound was the clatter of knives and forks. \"Pray excuse me,\" her father announced to the table. \"I find I have small appetite tonight.\" He walked from the hall.\n\nAfter he was gone, Sansa exchanged excited whispers with Jeyne Poole. Down the table Jory laughed at a joke, and Hullen started in about horseflesh. \"Your warhorse, now, he may not be the best one for the joust. Not the same thing, oh, no, not the same at all.\" The men had heard it all before; Desmond, Jacks, and Hullen's son Harwin shouted him down together, and Porther called for more wine."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 25"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You know my feelings, Sansa."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It seems I must arrange Robert's games and pretend to be honored for his sake. That does not mean I must subject my daughters to this folly.\"\n\n\"Oh, please,\" Sansa said. \"I want to see.\"\n\nSepta Mordane spoke up. \"Princess Myrcella will be there, my lord, and her younger than Lady Sansa. All the ladies of the court will be expected at a grand event like this, and as the tourney is in your honor, it would look queer if your family did not attend.\"\n\nFather looked pained. \"I suppose so. Very well, I shall arrange a place for you, Sansa.\" He saw Arya. \"For both of you.\"\n\n\"I don't care about their stupid tourney,\" Arya said. She knew Prince Joffrey would be there, and she hated Prince Joffrey.\n\nSansa lifted her head. \"It will be a splendid event. You shan't be wanted.\"\n\nAnger flashed across Father's face. \"Enough, Sansa. More of that and you will change my mind. I am weary unto death of this endless war you two are fighting. You are sisters. I expect you to behave like sisters, is that understood?\"\n\nSansa bit her lip and nodded. Arya lowered her face to stare sullenly at her plate. She could feel tears stinging her eyes. She rubbed them away angrily, determined not to cry.\n\nThe only sound was the clatter of knives and forks. \"Pray excuse me,\" her father announced to the table. \"I find I have small appetite tonight.\" He walked from the hall.\n\nAfter he was gone, Sansa exchanged excited whispers with Jeyne Poole. Down the table Jory laughed at a joke, and Hullen started in about horseflesh. \"Your warhorse, now, he may not be the best one for the joust. Not the same thing, oh, no, not the same at all.\" The men had heard it all before; Desmond, Jacks, and Hullen's son Harwin shouted him down together, and Porther called for more wine."
},
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"value": "No one talked to Arya. She didn't care. She liked it that way. She would have eaten her meals alone in her bedchamber if they let her. Sometimes they did, when Father had to dine with the king or some lord or the envoys from this place or that place. The rest of the time, they ate in his solar, just him and her and Sansa. That was when Arya missed her brothers most. She wanted to tease Bran and play with baby Rickon and have Robb smile at her. She wanted Jon to muss up her hair and call her'little sister\" and finish her sentences with her. But all of them were gone. She had no one left but Sansa, and Sansa wouldn't even talk to her unless Father made her.\n\nBack at Winterfell, they had eaten in the Great Hall almost half the time. Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. \"Know the men who follow you,\" she heard him tell Robb once, \"and let them know you. Don't ask your men to die fora stranger.\" At Winterfell, he always had an extra seat set at his own table, and everyday a different man would be asked to join him. One night it would be Vayon Poole, and the talk would be coppers and bread stores and servants. The next time it would be Mikken, and her father would listen to him goon about armor and swords and how hot a forge should be and the best way to temper steel. Another day it might be Hullen with his endless horse talk, or Septon Chayle from the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories.\n\nArya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father's table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her'Arya Underfoot,\" because he said that was where she always was. She'd liked that a lot better than'Arya Horseface.\""
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"value": "Only that was Winterfell, a world away, and now everything was changed. This was the first time they had supped with the men since arriving in King's Landing. Arya hated it. She hated the sounds of their voices now, the way they laughed, the stories they told. They'd been her friends, she'd felt safe around them, but now she knew that was a lie. They'd let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough, but then the Hound found Mycah. Jeyne Poole had told Arya that he'd cut him up in so many pieces that they'd given him back to the butcher in a bag, and at first the poor man had thought it was a pig they'd slaughtered. And no one had raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harwin who always talked so bold, or Alyn who was going to be a knight, or Jory who was captain of the guard. Not even her father.\n\n\"He was my friend,\" Arya whispered into her plate, so low that no one could hear. Her ribs sat there untouched, grown cold now, a thin film of grease congealing beneath them on the plate. Arya looked at them and felt ill. She pushed away from the table.\n\n\"Pray, where do you think you are going, young lady?\" Septa Mordane asked.\n\n\"I'm not hungry.\" Arya found it an effort to remember her courtesies. \"May I be excused, please?\" she recited stiffly.\n\n\"You may not,\" the septa said. \"You have scarcely touched your food. You will sit down and clean your plate.\"\n\n\"You clean it!\" Before anyone could stop her, Arya bolted for the door as the men laughed and Septa Mordane called loudly after her, her voice rising higher and higher."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Fat Tom was at his post, guarding the door to the Tower of the Hand."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He blinked when he saw Arya rushing toward him and heard the septa's shouts. \"Here now, little one, hold on,\" he started to say, reaching, but Arya slid between his legs and then she was running up the winding tower steps, her feet hammering on the stone while Fat Tom huffed and puffed behind her.\n\nHer bedchamber was the only place that Arya liked in all of King's Landing, and the thing she liked best about it was the door, a massive slab of dark oak with black iron bands. When she slammed that door and dropped the heavy crossbar, nobody could get into her room, not Septa Mordane or Fat Tom or Sansa or Jory or the Hound, nobody! She slammed it now.\n\nWhen the bar was down, Arya finally felt safe enough to cry.\n\nShe went to the window seat and sat there, sniffling, hating them all, and herself most of all. It was all her fault, everything bad that had happened. Sansa said so, and Jeyne too.\n\nFat Tom was knocking on her door. \"Arya girl, what's wrong?\" he called out. \"You in there?\"\n\n\"No!\" she shouted. The knocking stopped. A moment later she heard him going away. Fat Tom was always easy to fool.\n\nArya went to the chest at the foot of her bed. She knelt, opened the lid, and began pulling her clothes outwith both hands, grabbing handfuls of silk and satin and velvet and wool and tossing them on the floor. It was thereat the bottom of the chest, where she'd hidden it. Arya lifted it out almost tenderly and drew the slender blade from its sheath.\n\nNeedle."
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "She thought of Mycah again and her eyes filled with tears. Her fault, her fault, her fault. If she had never asked him to play at swords with her...\n\nThere was a pounding at her door, louder than before. \"Arya Stark, you open this door at once, do you hear me?\"\n\nArya spun around, with Needle in her hand. \"You better not come inhere!\" she warned. She slashed at the air savagely.\n\n\"The Hand will hear of this!\" Septa Mordane raged.\n\n\"I don't care,\" Arya screamed. \"Go away.\"\n\n\"You will rue this insolent behavior, young lady, I promise you that.\" Arya listened at the door until she heard the sound of the septa's receding footsteps.\n\nShe went back to the window, Needle in hand, and looked down into the courtyard below. If only she could climb like Bran, she thought; she would go out the window and down the tower, runaway from this horrible place, away from Sansa and Septa Mordane and Prince Joffrey, from all of them. Steal some food from the kitchens, take Needle and her good boots and a warm cloak. She could find Nymeria in the wild woods below the Trident, and together they'd return to Winterfell, or run to Jon on the Wall. She found herself wishing that Jon was herewith her now. Then maybe she wouldn't feel so alone.\n\nA soft knock at the door behind her turned Arya away from the window and her dreams of escape. \"Arya,\" her father's voice called out. \"Open the door. We need to talk.\"\n\nArya crossed the room and lifted the crossbar. Father was alone. He seemed more sad than angry. That made Arya feel even worse. \"May I come in?\" Arya nodded, then dropped her eyes, ashamed. Father closed the door. \"Whose sword is that?\""
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"value": "\"Mine.\" Arya had almost forgotten Needle, in her hand.\n\n\"Give it tome.\"\n\nReluctantly Arya surrendered her sword, wondering if she would ever hold it again. Her father turned it in the light, examining both sides of the blade. He tested the point with his thumb. \"A bravo's blade,\" he said. \"Yet it seems tome that I know this maker's mark. This is Mikken's work.\"\n\nArya could not lie to him. She lowered her eyes.\n\nLord Eddard Stark sighed. \"My nine-year-old daughter is being armed from my own forge, and I know nothing of it. The Hand of the King is expected to rule the Seven Kingdoms, yet it seems I cannot even rule my own household. How is it that you come to own a sword, Arya? Where did you get this?\"\n\nArya chewed her lip and said nothing. She would not betray Jon, not even to their father.\n\nAfter awhile, Father said, \"I don't suppose it matters, truly.\" He looked down gravely at the sword in his hands. \"This is no toy for children, least of all fora girl. What would Septa Mordane say if she knew you were playing with swords?\"\n\n\"I wasn't playing,\" Arya insisted. \"I hate Septa Mordane.\"\n\n\"That's enough.\" Her father's voice was curt and hard. \"The septa is doing no more than is her duty, though gods know you have made it a struggle for the poor woman. Your mother and I have charged her with the impossible task of making you a lady.\"\n\n\"I don't want to be a lady!\" Arya flared.\n\n\"I ought to snap this toy across my knee here and now, and put an end to this nonsense.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Needle wouldn't break,\" Arya said defiantly, but her voice betrayed her words.\n\n\"It has a name, does it?\" Her father sighed. \"Ah, Arya. You have a wildness in you, child. \"The wolf blood,\" my father used to call it. Lyanna had a touch of it, and my brother Brandon more than a touch. It brought them both to an early grave.\" Arya heard sadness in his voice; he did not often speak of his father, or of the brother and sister who had died before she was born. \"Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her.\"\n\n\"Lyanna was beautiful,\" Arya said, startled. Everybody said so. It was not a thing that was ever said of Arya.\n\n\"She was,\" Eddard Stark agreed, \"beautiful, and willful, and dead before her time.\" He lifted the sword, held it out between them. \"Arya, what did you think to do with this... Needle? Who did you hope to skewer? Your sister? Septa Mordane? Do you know the first thing about sword fighting?\"\n\nAll she could think of was the lesson Jon had given her. \"Stick them with the pointy end,\" she blurted out.\n\nHer father snorted back laughter. \"That is the essence of it, I suppose.\"\n\nArya desperately wanted to explain, to make him see. \"I was trying to learn, but...\" Her eyes filled with tears. \"I asked Mycah to practice with me.\" The grief came on her all at once. She turned away, shaking. \"I asked him,\" she cried. \"It was my fault, it was me...\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Suddenly her father's arms were around her. He held her gently as she turned to him and sobbed against his chest. \"No, sweet one,\" he murmured. \"Grieve for your friend, but never blame yourself. You did not kill the butcher's boy. That murder lies at the Hound's door, him and the cruel woman he serves.\"\n\n\"I hate them,\" Arya confided, red-faced, sniffling. \"The Hound and the queen and the king and Prince Joffrey. I hate all of them. Joffrey lied, it wasn't the way he said. I hate Sansa too. She did remember, she just lied so Joffrey would like her.\"\n\n\"We all lie,\" her father said. \"Or did you truly think I'd believe that Nymeria ran off?\"\n\nArya blushed guiltily. \"Jory promised not to tell.\"\n\n\"Jory kept his word,\" her father said with a smile. \"There are somethings I do not need to be told. Even a blind man could see that wolf would never have left you willingly.\"\n\n\"We had to throw rocks,\" she said miserably. \"I told her to run, to go be free, that I didn't want her anymore. There were other wolves for her to play with, we heard them howling, and Jory said the woods were full of game, so she'd have deer to hunt. Only she kept following, and finally we had to throw rocks. I hither twice. She whined and looked at me and I felt so \"shamed, but it was right, wasn't it? The queen would have killed her.\"\n\n\"It was right,\" her father said. \"And even the lie was... not without honor.\" He'd put Needle aside when he went to Arya to embrace her. Now he took the blade up again and walked to the window, where he stood fora moment, looking out across the courtyard. When he turned back, his eyes were thoughtful. He seated himself on the window seat, Needle across his lap. \"Arya, sit down. I need to try and explain somethings to you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She perched anxiously on the edge of her bed. \"You are too young to be burdened with all my cares,\" he told her, \"but you are also a Stark of Winterfell. You know our words.\"\n\n\"Winter is coming,\" Arya whispered.\n\n\"The hard cruel times,\" her father said. \"We tasted them on the Trident, child, and when Bran fell. You were born in the long summer, sweet one, you've never known anything else, but now the winter is truly coming. Remember the sigil of our House, Arya.\"\n\n\"The direwolf,\" she said, thinking of Nymeria. She hugged her knees against her chest, suddenly afraid.\n\n\"Let me tell you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. So if you must hate, Arya, hate those who would truly do us harm. Septa Mordane is a good woman, and Sansa... Sansa is your sister. You maybe as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you... and I need both of you, gods help me.\"\n\nHe sounded so tired that it made Arya sad. \"I don't hate Sansa,\" she told him. \"Not truly.\" It was only half a lie.\n\n\"I do not mean to frighten you, but neither will I lie to you. We have come to a dark dangerous place, child. This is not Winterfell. We have enemies who mean us ill. We cannot fight a war among ourselves. This willfulness of yours, the running off, the angry words, the disobedience... at home, these were only the summer games of a child. Here and now, with winter soon upon us, that is a different matter. It is time to begin growing up.\""
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{
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"value": "\"I will,\" Arya vowed. She had never loved him so much as she did in that instant. \"I can be strong too. I can be as strong as Robb.\"\n\nHe held Needle out to her, hilt first. \"Here.\"\n\nShe looked at the sword with wonder in her eyes. Fora moment she was afraid to touch it, afraid that if she reached for it it would be snatched away again, but then her father said, \"Goon, it's yours,\" and she took it in her hand.\n\n\"I can keep it?\" she said. \"For true?\"\n\n\"For true.\" He smiled. \"If I took it away, no doubt I'd find a morningstar hidden under your pillow within the fortnight. Try not to stab your sister, whatever the provocation.\"\n\n\"I won't. I promise.\" Arya clutched Needle tightly to her chest as her father took his leave.\n\nThe next morning, as they broke their fast, she apologized to Septa Mordane and asked for her pardon. The septa peered at her suspiciously, but Father nodded.\n\nThree days later, at midday, her father's steward Vayon Poole sent Arya to the Small Hall. The trestle tables had been dismantled and the benches shoved against the walls. The hall seemed empty, until an unfamiliar voice said, \"You are late, boy.\" A slight man with a bald head and a great beak of a nose stepped out of the shadows, holding a pair of slender wooden swords. \"Tomorrow you will be here at midday,\" He had an accent, the lilt of the Free Cities, Braavos perhaps, or Myr.\n\n\"Who are you?\" Arya asked.\n\n\"I am your dancing master.\" He tossed her one of the wooden blades. She grabbed for it, missed, and heard it clatter to the floor. \"Tomorrow you will catch it. Now pick it up.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was not just a stick, but a true wooden sword complete with grip and guard and pommel. Arya picked it up and clutched it nervously with both hands, holding it out in front of her. It was heavier than it looked, much heavier than Needle.\n\nThe bald man clicked his teeth together. \"That is not the way, boy. This is not a greatsword that is needing two hands to swing it. You will take the blade in one hand.\"\n\n\"It's too heavy,\" Arya said.\n\n\"It is heavy as it needs to be to make you strong, and for the balancing. A hollow inside is filled with lead, just so. One hand now is all that is needing.\"\n\nArya took her right hand off the grip and wiped her sweaty palm on her pants. She held the sword in her left hand. He seemed to approve. \"The left is good. All is reversed, it will make your enemies more awkward. Now you are standing wrong. Turn your body sideface, yes, so. You are skinny as the shaft of a spear, do you know. That is good too, the target is smaller. Now the grip. Let me see.\" He moved closer and peered at her hand, prying her fingers apart, rearranging them. \"Just so, yes. Do not squeeze it so tight, no, the grip must be deft, delicate.\"\n\n\"What if I drop it?\" Arya said.\n\n\"The steel must be part of your arm,\" the bald man told her. \"Can you drop part of your arm? No. Nine years Syrio Forel was first sword to the Sealord of Braavos, he knows these things. Listen to him, boy.\"\n\nIt was the third time he had called her'boy.\" \"I'm a girl,\" Arya objected."
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"value": "\"Boy, girl,\" Syrio Forel said. \"You area sword, that is all.\" He clicked his teeth together. \"Just so, that is the grip. You are not holding a battle-axe, you are holding a-\"\n\n\"-needle,\" Arya finished for him, fiercely.\n\n\"Just so. Now we will begin the dance. Remember, child, this is not the iron dance of Westeros we are learning, the knight's dance, hacking and hammering, no. This is the bravo's dance, the water dance, swift and sudden. All men are made of water, do you know this? When you pierce them, the water leaks out and they die.\" He took a step backward, raised his own wooden blade. \"Now you will try to strike me.\"\n\nArya tried to strike him. She tried for four hours, until every muscle in her body was sore and aching, while Syrio Forel clicked his teeth together and told her what to do.\n\nThe next day their real work began."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Dothraki sea,\" Ser Jorah Mormont said as he reined to a halt beside heron the top of the ridge. Beneath them, the plain stretched out immense and empty, avast flat expanse that reached to the distant horizon and beyond. It was a sea, Dany thought. Past here, there were no hills, no mountains, no trees nor cities nor roads, only the endless grasses, the tall blades rippling like waves when the winds blew. \"It's so green,\" she said.\n\n\"Here and now,\" Ser Jorah agreed. \"You ought to see it when it blooms, all dark red flowers from horizon to horizon, like a sea of blood. Come the dry season, and the world turns the color of old bronze. And this is only hranna, child. There area hundred kinds of grass out there, grasses as yellow as lemon and as dark as indigo, blue grasses and orange grasses and grasses like rainbows. Down in the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai, they say there are oceans of ghost grass, taller than a man on horseback with stalks as pale as milkglass. It murders all other grass and glows in the dark with the spirits of the damned. The Dothraki claim that someday ghost grass will cover the entire world, and then all life will end.\"\n\nThat thought gave Dany the shivers. \"I don't want to talk about that now,\" she said. \"It's so beautiful here, I don't want to think about everything dying.\"\n\n\"As you will, Khaleesi,\" Ser Jorah said respectfully.\n\nShe heard the sound of voices and turned to look behind her. She and Mormont had outdistanced the rest of their party, and now the others were climbing the ridge below them. Her handmaid Irri and the young archers of her khas were fluid as centaurs, but Viserys still struggled with the short stirrups and the flat saddle. Her brother was miserable out here. He ought never have come. Magister Illyrio had urged him to wait in Pentos, had offered him the hospitality of his manse, but Viserys would have none of it. He would stay with Drogo until the debt had been paid, until he had the crown he had been promised. \"And if he tries to cheat me, he will learn to his sorrow what it means to wake the dragon,\" Viserys had vowed, laying a hand on his borrowed sword. Illyrio had blinked at that and wished him good fortune."
},
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"value": "Dany realized that she did not want to listen to any of her brother's complaints right now. The day was too perfect. The sky was a deep blue, and high above them a hunting hawk circled. The grass sea swayed and sighed with each breath of wind, the air was warm on her face, and Dany felt at peace. She would not let Viserys spoil it.\n\n\"Wait here,\" Dany told Ser Jorah. \"Tell them all to stay. Tell them I command it.\"\n\nThe knight smiled. Ser Jorah was not a handsome man. He had a neck and shoulders like a bull, and coarse black hair covered his arms and chest so thickly that there was none left for his head. Yet his smiles gave Dany comfort. \"You are learning to talk like a queen, Daenerys.\"\n\n\"Not a queen,\" said Dany. \"A khaleesi.\" She wheeled her horse about and galloped down the ridge alone.\n\nThe descent was steep and rocky, but Dany rode fearlessly, and the joy and the danger of it were a song in her heart. All her life Viserys had told her she was a princess, but not until she rode her silver had Daenerys Targaryen ever felt like one.\n\nAt first it had not come easy. The khalasar had broken camp the morning after her wedding, moving east toward Vaes Dothrak, and by the third day Dany thought she was going to die. Saddle sores opened on her bottom, hideous and bloody. Her thighs were chafed raw, her hands blistered from the reins, the muscles of her legs and back so wracked with pain that she could scarcely sit. By the time dusk fell, her handmaids would need to help her down from her mount."
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"value": "Even the nights brought no relief. Khal Drogo ignored her when they rode, even as he had ignored her during their wedding, and spent his evenings drinking with his warriors and bloodriders, racing his prize horses, watching women dance and men die. Dany had no place in these parts of his life. She was left to sup alone, or with Ser Jorah and her brother, and afterward to cry herself to sleep. Yet every night, sometime before the dawn, Drogo would come to her tent and wake her in the dark, to ride her as relentlessly as he rode his stallion. He always took her from behind, Dothraki fashion, for which Dany was grateful; that way her lord husband could not seethe tears that wet her face, and she could use her pillow to muffle her cries of pain. When he was done, he would close his eyes and begin to snore softly and Dany would lie beside him, her body bruised and sore, hurting too much for sleep.\n\nDay followed day, and night followed night, until Dany knew she could not endure a moment longer. She would kill herself rather than goon, she decided one night...\n\nYet when she slept that night, she dreamt the dragon dream again. Viserys was not in it this time. There was only her and the dragon. Its scales were black as night, wet and slick with blood. Her blood, Dany sensed. Its eyes were pools of molten magma, and when it opened its mouth, the flame came roaring out in a hot jet. She could hear it singing to her. She opened her arms to the fire, embraced it, let it swallow her whole, let it cleanse her and temper her and scour her clean. She could feel her flesh sear and blacken and slough away, could feel her blood boil and turn to steam, and yet there was no pain. She felt strong and new and fierce."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And the next day, strangely, she did not seem to hurt quite so much."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was as if the gods had heard her and taken pity. Even her handmaids noticed the change. \"Khaleesi,\" Jhiqui said, \"what is wrong? Are you sick?\"\n\n\"I was,\" she answered, standing over the dragon's eggs that Illyrio had given her when shewed. She touched one, the largest of the three, running her hand lightly over the shell. Black-and-scarlet, she thought, like the dragon in my dream. The stone felt strangely warm beneath her fingers... or was she still dreaming? She pulled her hand back nervously.\n\nFrom that hour onward, each day was easier than the one before it. Her legs grew stronger; her blisters burst and her hands grew callused; her soft thighs toughened, supple as leather.\n\nThe khal had commanded the handmaid Irri to teach Dany to ride in the Dothraki fashion, but it was the filly who washer real teacher. The horse seemed to know her moods, as if they shared a single mind. With every passing day, Dany felt surer in her seat. The Dothraki were a hard and unsentimental people, and it was not their custom to name their animals, so Dany thought of her only as the silver. She had never loved anything so much.\n\nAs the riding became less an ordeal, Dany began to notice the beauties of the land around her. She rode at the head of the khalasar with Drogo and his bloodriders, so she came to each country fresh and unspoiled. Behind them the great horde might tear the earth and muddy the rivers and send up clouds of choking dust, but the fields ahead of them were always green and verdant.\n\nThey crossed the rolling hills of Norvos, past terraced farms and small villages where the townsfolk watched anxiously from atop white stucco walls. They forded three wide placid rivers and a fourth that was swift and narrow and treacherous, camped beside a high blue waterfall, skirted the tumbled ruins of avast dead city where ghosts were said to moan among blackened marble columns. They raced down Valyrian roads a thousand years old and straight as a Dothraki arrow. For half a moon, they rode through the Forest of Qohor, where the leaves made a golden canopy high above them, and the trunks of the trees were as wide as city gates. There were great elk in that wood, and spotted tigers, and lemurs with silver fur and huge purple eyes, but all fled before the approach of the khalasar and Dany got no glimpse of them."
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "By then her agony was a fading memory. She still ached after along day's riding, yet somehow the pain had a sweetness to it now, and each morning she came willingly to her saddle, eager to know what wonders waited for her in the lands ahead. She began to find pleasure even in her nights, and if she still cried out when Drogo took her, it was not always in pain.\n\nAt the bottom of the ridge, the grasses rose around her, tall and supple. Dany slowed to a trot and rode out onto the plain, losing herself in the green, blessedly alone. In the khalasar she was never alone. Khal Drogo came to her only after the sun went down, but her handmaids fed her and bathed her and slept by the door of her tent, Drogo's bloodriders and the men of her khas were never far, and her brother was an unwelcome shadow, day and night. Dany could hear him on the top of the ridge, his voice shrill with anger as he shouted at Ser Jorah. She rode on, submerging herself deeper in the Dothraki sea.\n\nThe green swallowed her up. The air was rich with the scents of earth and grass, mixed with the smell of horseflesh and Dany's sweat and the oil in her hair. Dothraki smells. They seemed to belong here. Dany breathed it all in, laughing. She had a sudden urge to feel the ground beneath her, to curl her toes in that thick black soil. Swinging down from her saddle, she let the silver graze while she pulled off her high boots.\n\nViserys came upon her as sudden as a summer storm, his horse rearing beneath him as he reined up too hard. \"You dare!\" he screamed at her. \"You give commands tome? Tome?\" He vaulted off the horse, stumbling as he landed. His face was flushed as he struggled back to his feet. He grabbed her, shook her. \"Have you forgotten who you are? Look at you. Look at you!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany did not need to look. She was barefoot, with oiled hair, wearing Dothraki riding leathers and a painted vest given her as a bride gift. She looked as though she belonged here. Viserys was soiled and stained in city silks and ringmail.\n\nHe was still screaming. \"You do not command the dragon. Do you understand? I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, I will not hear orders from some horselord's slut, do you hear me?\" His hand went under her vest, his fingers digging painfully into her breast. \"Do you hear me?\"\n\nDany shoved him away, hard.\n\nViserys stared at her, his lilac eyes incredulous. She had never defied him. Never fought back. Rage twisted his features. He would hurt her now, and badly, she knew that.\n\nCrack.\n\nThe whip made a sound like thunder. The coil took Viserys around the throat and yanked him backward. He went sprawling in the grass, stunned and choking. The Dothraki riders hooted at him as he struggled to free himself. The one with the whip, young Jhogo, rasped a question. Dany did not understand his words, but by then Irri was there, and Ser Jorah, and the rest of her khas. \"Jhogo asks if you would have him dead, Khaleesi,\" Irri said.\n\n\"No,\" Dany replied. \"No.\"\n\nJhogo understood that. One of the others barked out a comment, and the Dothraki laughed. Irri told her, \"Quaro thinks you should take an ear to teach him respect.\"\n\nHer brother was on his knees, his fingers digging under the leather coils, crying incoherently, struggling for breath. The whip was tight around his windpipe."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell them I do not wish him harmed,\" Dany said.\n\nIrri repeated her words in Dothraki. Jhogo gave a pull on the whip, yanking Viserys around like a puppet on a string. He went sprawling again, freed from the leather embrace, a thin line of blood under his chin where the whip had cut deep.\n\n\"I warned him what would happen, my lady,\" Ser Jorah Mormont said. \"I told him to stay on the ridge, as you commanded.\"\n\n\"I know you did,\" Dany replied, watching Viserys. He lay on the ground, sucking in air noisily, red-faced and sobbing. He was a pitiful thing. He had always been a pitiful thing. Why had she never seen that before? There was a hollow place inside her where her fear had been.\n\n\"Take his horse,\" Dany commanded Ser Jorah. Viserys gaped at her. He could not believe what he was hearing; nor could Dany quite believe what she was saying. Yet the words came. \"Let my brother walk behind us back to the khalasar.\" Among the Dothraki, the man who does not ride was no man at all, the lowest of the low, without honor or pride. \"Let everyone see him as he is.\"\n\n\"No!\" Viserys screamed. He turned to Ser Jorah, pleading in the Common Tongue with words the horsemen would not understand. \"Hither, Mormont. Hurt her. Your king commands it. Kill these Dothraki dogs and teach her.\"\n\nThe exile knight looked from Dany to her brother; she barefoot, with dirt between her toes and oil in her hair, he with his silks and steel. Dany could seethe decision on his face. \"He shall walk, Khaleesi,\" he said. He took her brother's horse in hand while Dany remounted her silver."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Viserys gaped at him, and sat down in the dirt. He kept his silence, but he would not move, and his eyes were full of poison as they rode away. Soon he was lost in the tall grass. When they could not see him anymore, Dany grew afraid. \"Will he find his way back?\" she asked Ser Jorah as they rode.\n\n\"Even a man as blind as your brother should be able to follow our trail,\" he replied.\n\n\"He is proud. He maybe too shamed to comeback.\"\n\nJorah laughed. \"Where else should he go? If he cannot find the khalasar, the khalasar will most surely find him. It is hard to drown in the Dothraki sea, child.\"\n\nDany saw the truth of that. The khalasar was like a city on the march, but it did not march blindly. Always scouts ranged far ahead of the main column, alert for any sign of game or prey or enemies, while outriders guarded their flanks. They missed nothing, not here, in this land, the place where they had come from. These plains were apart of them... and of her, now.\n\n\"I hit him,\" she said, wonder in her voice. Now that it was over, it seemed like some strange dream that she had dreamed. \"Ser Jorah, do you think... he'll be so angry when he gets back...\" She shivered. \"I woke the dragon, didn't I?\"\n\nSer Jorah snorted. \"Can you wake the dead, girl? Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon, and he died on the Trident. Viserys is less than the shadow of a snake.\"\n\nHis blunt words startled her. It seemed as though all the things she had always believed were suddenly called into question. \"You... you swore him your sword...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"That I did, girl,\" Ser Jorah said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And if your brother is the shadow of a snake, what does that make his servants?\" His voice was bitter.\n\n\"He is still the true king. He is...\"\n\nJorah pulled up his horse and looked at her. \"Truth now. Would you want to see Viserys sit a throne?\"\n\nDany thought about that. \"He would not be a very good king, would he?\"\n\n\"There have been worse... but not many.\" The knight gave his heels to his mount and started off again.\n\nDany rode close beside him. \"Still,\" she said, \"the common people are waiting for him. Magister Illyrio says they are sewing dragon banners and praying for Viserys to return from across the narrow sea to free them.\"\n\n\"The common people pray for rain, healthy children, and a summer that never ends,\" Ser Jorah told her. \"It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace.\" He gave a shrug. \"They never are.\"\n\nDany rode along quietly fora time, working his words like a puzzle box. It went against everything that Viserys had ever told her to think that the people could care so little whether a true king or a usurper reigned over them. Yet the more she thought on Jorah's words, the more they rang of truth.\n\n\"What do you pray for, Ser Jorah?\" she asked him.\n\n\"Home,\" he said. His voice was thick with longing.\n\n\"I pray for home too,\" she told him, believing it.\n\nSer Jorah laughed. \"Look around you then, Khaleesi.\"\n\nBut it was not the plains Dany saw then. It was King's Landing and the great Red Keep that Aegon the Conqueror had built. It was Dragonstone where she had been born. In her mind's eye they burned with a thousand lights, afire blazing in every window. In her mind's eye, all the doors were red."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My brother will never take back the Seven Kingdoms,\" Dany said. She had known that fora longtime, she realized. She had known it all her life. Only she had never let herself say the words, even in a whisper, but now she said them for Jorah Mormont and all the world to hear.\n\nSer Jorah gave her a measuring look. \"You think not.\"\n\n\"He could not lead an army even if my lord husband gave him one,\" Dany said. \"He has no coin and the only knight who follows him reviles him as less than a snake. The Dothraki make mock of his weakness. He will never take us home.\"\n\n\"Wise child.\" The knight smiled.\n\n\"I am no child,\" she told him fiercely. Her heels pressed into the sides of her mount, rousing the silver to a gallop. Faster and faster she raced, leaving Jorah and Irri and the others far behind, the warm wind in her hair and the setting sun red on her face. By the time she reached the khalasar, it was dusk.\n\nThe slaves had erected her tent by the shore of a spring-fed pool. She could hear rough voices from the woven grass palace on the hill. Soon there would be laughter, when the men of her khas told the story of what had happened in the grasses today. By the time Viserys came limping back among them, every man, woman, and child in the camp would know him fora walker. There were no secrets in the khalasar.\n\nDany gave the silver over to the slaves for grooming and entered her tent. It was cool and dim beneath the silk. As she let the door flap close behind her, Dany saw a finger of dusty red light reach out to touch her dragon's eggs across the tent. For an instant a thousand droplets of scarlet flame swam before her eyes. She blinked, and they were gone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Stone, she told herself. They are only stone, even Illyrio said so, the dragons are all dead. She put her palm against the black egg, fingers spread gently across the curve of the shell. The stone was warm. Almost hot. \"The sun,\" Dany whispered. \"The sun warmed them as they rode.\"\n\nShe commanded her handmaids to prepare her a bath. Doreah built afire outside the tent, while Irri and Jhiqui fetched the big copper tub-another bride gift-from the packhorses and carried water from the pool. When the bath was steaming, Irri helped her into it and climbed in after her.\n\n\"Have you ever seen a dragon?\" she asked as Irri scrubbed her back and Jhiqui sluiced sand from her hair. She had heard that the first dragons had come from the east, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai and the islands of the Jade Sea. Perhaps some were still living there, in realms strange and wild.\n\n\"Dragons are gone, Khaleesi,\" Irri said.\n\n\"Dead,\" agreed Jhiqui. \"Long and long ago.\"\n\nViserys had told her that the last Targaryen dragons had died no more than a century and a half ago, during the reign of Aegon III, who was called the Dragonbane. That did not seem so long ago to Dany. \"Everywhere?\" she said, disappointed. \"Even in the east?\" Magic had died in the west when the Doom fell on Valyria and the Lands of the Long Summer, and neither spell-forged steel nor stormsingers nor dragons could hold it back, but Dany had always heard that the east was different. It was said that manticores prowled the islands of the Jade Sea, that basilisks infested the jungles of Yi Ti, that spellsingers, warlocks, and aeromancers practiced their arts openly in Asshai, while shadowbinders and bloodmages worked terrible sorceries in the black of night. Why shouldn't there be dragons too?"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No dragon,\" Irri said. \"Brave men kill them, for dragon terrible evil beasts. It is known.\"\n\n\"It is known,\" agreed Jhiqui.\n\n\"A trader from Qarth once told me that dragons came from the moon,\" blond Doreah said as she warmed a towel over the fire. Jhiqui and Irri were of an age with Dany, Dothraki girls taken as slaves when Drogo destroyed their father's khalasar. Doreah was older, almost twenty. Magister Illyrio had found her in a pleasure house in Lys.\n\nSilvery-wet hair tumbled across her eyes as Dany turned her head, curious. \"The moon?\"\n\n\"He told me the moon was an egg, Khaleesi,\" the Lysene girl said. \"Once there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked from the heat. A thousand thousand dragons poured forth, and drank the fire of the sun. That is why dragons breathe flame. One day the other moon will kiss the sun too, and then it will crack and the dragons will return.\"\n\nThe two Dothraki girls giggled and laughed. \"You are foolish strawhead slave,\" Irri said. \"Moon is no egg. Moon is god, woman wife of sun. It is known.\"\n\n\"It is known,\" Jhiqui agreed.\n\nDany's skin was flushed and pink when she climbed from the tub. Jhiqui laid her down to oil her body and scrape the dirt from her pores. Afterward Irri sprinkled her with spiceflower and cinnamon. While Doreah brushed her hair until it shone like spun silver, she thought about the moon, and eggs, and dragons.\n\nHer supper was a simple meal of fruit and cheese and fry bread, with a jug of honeyed wine to wash it down. \"Doreah, stay and eat with me,\" Dany commanded when she sent her other handmaids away. The Lysene girl had hair the color of honey, and eyes like the summer sky."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She lowered those eyes when they were alone. \"You honor me, Khaleesi,\" she said, but it was no honor, only service. Long after the moon had risen, they sat together, talking.\n\nThat night, when Khal Drogo came, Dany was waiting for him. He stood in the door of her tent and looked at her with surprise. She rose slowly and opened her sleeping silks and let them fall to the ground. \"This night we must go outside, my lord,\" she told him, for the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man's life must be done beneath the open sky.\n\nKhal Drogo followed her out into the moonlight, the bells in his hair tinkling softly. A few yards from her tent was abed of soft grass, and it was there that Dany drew him down. When he tried to turn her over, she put a hand on his chest. \"No,\" she said. \"This night I would look on your face.\"\n\nThere is no privacy in the heart of the khalasar. Dany felt the eyes on her as she undressed him, heard the soft voices as she did the things that Doreah had told her to do. It was nothing to her. Was she not khaleesi? His were the only eyes that mattered, and when she mounted him she saw something there that she had never seen before. She rode him as fiercely as ever she had ridden her silver, and when the moment of his pleasure came, Khal Drogo called out her name.\n\nThey were on the far side of the Dothraki sea when Jhiqui brushed the soft swell of Dany's stomach with her fingers and said, \"Khaleesi, you are with child.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Dany told her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It washer fourteenth name day."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the yard below, Rickon ran with the wolves.\n\nBran watched from his window seat. Wherever the boy went, Grey Wind was there first, loping ahead to cut him off, until Rickon saw him, screamed in delight, and went pelting off in another direction. Shaggydog ran at his heels, spinning and snapping if the other wolves came too close. His fur had darkened until he was all black, and his eyes were green fire. Bran's Summer came last. He was silver and smoke, with eyes of yellow gold that saw all there was to see. Smaller than Grey Wind, and more wary. Bran thought he was the smartest of the litter. He could hear his brother's breathless laughter as Rickon dashed across the hard-packed earth on little baby legs.\n\nHis eyes stung. He wanted to be down there, laughing and running. Angry at the thought, Bran knuckled away the tears before they could fall. His eighth name day had come and gone. He was almost a man grown now, too old to cry.\n\n\"It was just a lie,\" he said bitterly, remembering the crow from his dream. \"I can't fly. I can't even run.\"\n\n\"Crows are all liars,\" Old Nan agreed, from the chair where she sat doing her needlework. \"I know a story about a crow.\"\n\n\"I don't want anymore stories,\" Bran snapped, his voice petulant. He had liked Old Nan and her stories once. Before. But it was different now. They left her with him all day now, to watch over him and clean him and keep him from being lonely, but she just made it worse. \"I hate your stupid stories.\"\n\nThe old woman smiled at him toothlessly. \"My stories? No, my little lord, not mine. The stories are, before me and after me, before you too.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was a very ugly old woman, Bran thought spitefully; shrunken and wrinkled, almost blind, too weak to climb stairs, with only a few wisps of white hair left to cover a mottled pink scalp. No one really knew how old she was, but his father said she'd been called Old Nan even when he was a boy. She was the oldest person in Winterfell for certain, maybe the oldest person in the Seven Kingdoms. Nan had come to the castle as a wet nurse fora Brandon Stark whose mother had died birthing him. He had been an older brother of Lord Rickard, Bran's grandfather, or perhaps a younger brother, or a brother to Lord Rickard's father. Sometimes Old Nan told it one way and sometimes another. In all the stories the little boy died at three of a summer chill, but Old Nan stayed on at Winterfell with her own children. She had lost both her sons to the war when King Robert won the throne, and her grandson was killed on the walls of Pyke during Balon Greyjoy's rebellion. Her daughters had long ago married and moved away and died. All that was left of her own blood was Hodor, the simpleminded giant who worked in the stables, but Old Nan just lived on and on, doing her needlework and telling her stories.\n\n\"I don't care whose stories they are,\" Bran told her, \"I hate them.\" He didn't want stories and he didn't want Old Nan. He wanted his mother and father. He wanted to go running with Summer loping beside him. He wanted to climb the broken tower and feed corn to the crows. He wanted to ride his pony again with his brothers. He wanted it to be the way it had been before.\n\n\"I know a story about a boy who hated stories,\" Old Nan said with her stupid little smile, her needles moving all the while, click click click, until Bran was ready to scream at her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It would never be the way it had been, he knew."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The crow had tricked him into flying, but when he woke up he was broken and the world was changed. They had all left him, his father and his mother and his sisters and even his bastard brother Jon. His father had promised he would ride areal horse to King's Landing, but they'd gone without him. Maester Luwin had sent a bird after Lord Eddard with a message, and another to Mother and a third to Jon on the Wall, but there had been no answers. \"Ofttimes the birds are lost, child,\" the maester had told him. \"There's many a mile and many a hawk between here and King's Landing, the message may not have reached them.\" Yet to Bran it felt as if they had all died while he had slept... or perhaps Bran had died, and they had forgotten him. Jory and Ser Rodrik and Vayon Poole had gone too, and Hullen and Harwin and Fat Tom and a quarter of the guard.\n\nOnly Robb and baby Rickon were still here, and Robb was changed. He was Robb the Lord now, or trying to be. He wore areal sword and never smiled. His days were spent drilling the guard and practicing his swordplay, making the yard ring with the sound of steel as Bran watched forlornly from his window. At night he closeted himself with Maester Luwin, talking or going over account books. Sometimes he would ride outwith Hallis Mollen and begone for days at a time, visiting distant holdfasts. Whenever he was away more than a day, Rickon would cry and ask Bran if Robb was ever coming back. Even when he was home at Winterfell, Robb the Lord seemed to have more time for Hallis Mollen and Theon Greyjoy than he ever did for his brothers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I could tell you the story about Brandon the Builder,\" Old Nan said. \"That was always your favorite.\"\n\nThousands and thousands of years ago, Brandon the Builder had raised Winterfell, and some said the Wall. Bran knew the story, but it had never been his favorite. Maybe one of the other Brandons had liked that story. Sometimes Nan would talk to him as if he were her Brandon, the baby she had nursed all those years ago, and sometimes she confused him with his uncle Brandon, who was killed by the Mad King before Bran was even born. She had lived so long, Mother had told him once, that all the Brandon Starks had become one person in her head.\n\n\"That's not my favorite,\" he said. \"My favorites were the scary ones.\" He heard some sort of commotion outside and turned back to the window. Rickon was running across the yard toward the gatehouse, the wolves following him, but the tower faced the wrong way for Bran to see what was happening. He smashed a fist on his thigh in frustration and felt nothing.\n\n\"Oh, my sweet summer child,\" Old Nan said quietly, \"what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods.\"\n\n\"You mean the Others,\" Bran said querulously.\n\n\"The Others,\" Old Nan agreed. \"Thousands and thousands of years ago, a winter fell that was cold and hard and endless beyond all memory of man. There came a night that lasted a generation, and kings shivered and died in their castles even as the swineherds in their hovels. Women smothered their children rather than see them starve, and cried, and felt their tears freeze on their cheeks.\" Her voice and her needles fell silent, and she glanced up at Bran with pale, filmy eyes and asked, \"So, child. This is the sort of story you like?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well,\" Bran said reluctantly, \"yes, only...\"\n\nOld Nan nodded. \"In that darkness, the Others came for the first time,\" she said as her needles went click click click. \"They were cold things, dead things, that hated iron and fire and the touch of the sun, and every creature with hot blood in its veins. They swept over holdfasts and cities and kingdoms, felled heroes and armies by the score, riding their pale dead horses and leading hosts of the slain. All the swords of men could not stay their advance, and even maidens and suckling babes found no pity in them. They hunted the maids through frozen forests, and fed their dead servants on the flesh of human children.\"\n\nHer voice had dropped very low, almost to a whisper, and Bran found himself leaning forward to listen.\n\n\"Now these were the days before the Andals came, and long before the women fled across the narrow sea from the cities of the Rhoyne, and the hundred kingdoms of those times were the kingdoms of the First Men, who had taken these lands from the children of the forest. Yet here and therein the fastness of the woods the children still lived in their wooden cities and hollow hills, and the faces in the trees kept watch. So as cold and death filled the earth, the last hero determined to seek out the children, in the hopes that their ancient magics could win back what the armies of men had lost. He set out into the dead lands with a sword, a horse, a dog, and a dozen companions. For years he searched, until he despaired of ever finding the children of the forest in their secret cities. One by one his friends died, and his horse, and finally even his dog, and his sword froze so hard the blade snapped when he tried to use it. And the Others smelled the hot blood in him, and came silent on his trail, stalking him with packs of pale white spiders big as hounds-\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The door opened with a bang, and Bran's heart leapt up into his mouth in sudden fear, but it was only Maester Luwin, with Hodor looming in the stairway behind him. \"Hodor!\" the stableboy announced, as was his custom, smiling hugely at them all.\n\nMaester Luwin was not smiling. \"We have visitors,\" he announced, \"and your presence is required, Bran.\"\n\n\"I'm listening to a story now,\" Bran complained.\n\n\"Stories wait, my little lord, and when you comeback to them, why, there they are,\" Old Nan said. \"Visitors are not so patient, and ofttimes they bring stories of their own.\"\n\n\"Who is it?\" Bran asked Maester Luwin.\n\n\"Tyrion Lannister, and some men of the Night's Watch, with word from your brother Jon. Robb is meeting with them now. Hodor, will you help Bran down to the hall?\"\n\n\"Hodor!\" Hodor agreed happily. He ducked to get his great shaggy head under the door. Hodor was nearly seven feet tall. It was hard to believe that he was the same blood as Old Nan. Bran wondered if he would shrivel up as small as his great-grandmother when he was old. It did not seem likely, even if Hodor lived to be a thousand.\n\nHodor lifted Bran as easy as if he were a bale of hay, and cradled him against his massive chest. He always smelled faintly of horses, but it was not a bad smell. His arms were thick with muscle and matted with brown hair. \"Hodor,\" he said again. Theon Greyjoy had once commented that Hodor did not know much, but no one could doubt that he knew his name. Old Nan had cackled like a hen when Bran told her that, and confessed that Hodor's real name was Walder. No one knew where'Hodor\" had come from, she said, but when he started saying it, they started calling him by it. It was the only word he had."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They left Old Nan in the tower room with her needles and her memories. Hodor hummed tunelessly as he carried Bran down the steps and through the gallery, with Maester Luwin following behind, hurrying to keep up with the stableboy's long strides.\n\nRobb was seated in Father's high seat, wearing ringmail and boiled leather and the stern face of Robb the Lord. Theon Greyjoy and Hallis Mollen stood behind him. A dozen guardsmen lined the grey stonewalls beneath tall narrow windows. In the center of the room the dwarf stood with his servants, and four strangers in the black of the Night's Watch. Bran could sense the anger in the hall the moment that Hodor carried him through the doors.\n\n\"Any man of the Night's Watch is welcome here at Winterfell for as long as he wishes to stay,\" Robb was saying with the voice of Robb the Lord. His sword was across his knees, the steel bare for all the world to see. Even Bran knew what it meant to greet a guest with an unsheathed sword.\n\n\"Any man of the Night's Watch,\" the dwarf repeated, \"but not me, do I take your meaning, boy?\"\n\nRobb stood and pointed at the little man with his sword. \"I am the lord here while my mother and father are away, Lannister. I am not your boy.\"\n\n\"If you area lord, you might learn a lord's courtesy,\" the little man replied, ignoring the sword point in his face. \"Your bastard brother has all your father's graces, it would seem.\"\n\n\"Jon,\" Bran gasped out from Hodor's arms.\n\nThe dwarf turned to look at him. \"So it is true, the boy lives. I could scarce believe it. You Starks are hard to kill.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You Lannisters had best remember that,\" Robb said, lowering his sword. \"Hodor, bring my brother here.\"\n\n\"Hodor,\" Hodor said, and he trotted forward smiling and set Bran in the high seat of the Starks, where the Lords of Winterfell had sat since the days when they called themselves the Kings in the North. The seat was cold stone, polished smooth by countless bottoms; the carved heads of direwolves snarled on the ends of its massive arms. Bran clasped them as he sat, his useless legs dangling. The great seat made him feel half a baby.\n\nRobb put a hand on his shoulder. \"You said you had business with Bran. Well, here he is, Lannister.\"\n\nBran was uncomfortably aware of Tyrion Lannister's eyes. One was black and one was green, and both were looking at him, studying him, weighing him. \"I am told you were quite the climber, Bran,\" the little man said at last. \"Tell me, how is it you happened to fall that day?\"\n\n\"I never,\" Bran insisted. He never fell, never never never.\n\n\"The child does not remember anything of the fall, or the climb that came before it,\" said Maester Luwin gently.\n\n\"Curious,\" said Tyrion Lannister.\n\n\"My brother is not hereto answer questions, Lannister,\" Robb said curtly. \"Do your business and be on your way.\"\n\n\"I have a gift for you,\" the dwarf said to Bran. \"Do you like to ride, boy?\"\n\nMaester Luwin came forward. \"My lord, the child has lost the use of his legs. He cannot sit a horse.\"\n\n\"Nonsense,\" said Lannister. \"With the right horse and the right saddle, even a cripple can ride.\""
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The word was a knife through Bran's heart. He felt tears come unbidden to his eyes. \"I'm not a cripple!\"\n\n\"Then I am not a dwarf,\" the dwarf said with a twist of his mouth. \"My father will rejoice to hear it.\" Greyjoy laughed.\n\n\"What sort of horse and saddle are you suggesting?\" Maester Luwin asked.\n\n\"A smart horse,\" Lannister replied. \"The boy cannot use his legs to command the animal, so you must shape the horse to the rider, teach it to respond to the reins, to the voice. I would begin with an unbroken yearling, with no old training to be unlearned,\" He drew a rolled paper from his belt. \"Give this to your saddler. He will provide the rest.\"\n\nMaester Luwin took the paper from the dwarf's hand, curious as a small grey squirrel. He unrolled it, studied it. \"I see. You draw nicely, my lord. Yes, this ought to work. I should have thought of this myself.\"\n\n\"It came easier tome, Maester. It is not terribly unlike my own saddles.\"\n\n\"Will I truly be able to ride?\" Bran asked. He wanted to believe them, but he was afraid. Perhaps it was just another lie. The crow had promised him that he could fly.\n\n\"You will,\" the dwarf told him. \"And I swear to you, boy, on horseback you will be as tall as any of them.\"\n\nRobb Stark seemed puzzled. \"Is this some trap, Lannister? What's Bran to you? Why should you want to help him?\"\n\n\"Your brother Jon asked it of me. And I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples and bastards and broken things.\" Tyrion Lannister placed a handover his heart and grinned."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "The door to the yard flew open."
},
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"value": "Sunlight came streaming across the hall as Rickon burst in, breathless. The direwolves were with him. The boy stopped by the door, wide-eyed, but the wolves came on. Their eyes found Lannister, or perhaps they caught his scent. Summer began to growl first. Grey Wind picked it up. They padded toward the little man, one from the right and one from the left.\n\n\"The wolves do not like your smell, Lannister,\" Theon Greyjoy commented.\n\n\"Perhaps it's time I took my leave,\" Tyrion said. He took a step backward... and Shaggydog came out of the shadows behind him, snarling. Lannister recoiled, and Summer lunged at him from the other side. He reeled away, unsteady on his feet, and Grey Wind snapped at his arm, teeth ripping at his sleeve and tearing loose a scrap of cloth.\n\n\"No!\" Bran shouted from the high seat as Lannister's men reached for their steel. \"Summer, here. Summer, tome!\"\n\nThe direwolf heard the voice, glanced at Bran, and again at Lannister. He crept backward, away from the little man, and settled down below Bran's dangling feet.\n\nRobb had been holding his breath. He let it outwith a sigh and called, \"Grey Wind.\" His direwolf moved to him, swift and silent. Now there was only Shaggy dog, rumbling at the small man, his eyes burning like green fire.\n\n\"Rickon, call him,\" Bran shouted to his baby brother, and Rickon remembered himself and screamed, \"Home, Shaggy, home now.\" The black wolf gave Lannister one final snarl and bounded off to Rickon, who hugged him tightly around the neck."
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"value": "Tyrion Lannister undid his scarf, mopped at his brow, and said in a flat voice, \"How interesting.\"\n\n\"Are you well, my lord?\" asked one of his men, his sword in hand. He glanced nervously at the direwolves as he spoke.\n\n\"My sleeve is torn and my breeches are unaccountably damp, but nothing was harmed save my dignity.\"\n\nEven Robb looked shaken. \"The wolves... I don't know why they did that...\"\n\n\"No doubt they mistook me for dinner.\" Lannister bowed stiffly to Bran. \"I thank you for calling them off, young ser. I promise you, they would have found me quite indigestible. And now I will be leaving, truly.\"\n\n\"A moment, my lord,\" Maester Luwin said. He moved to Robb and they huddled close together, whispering. Bran tried to hear what they were saying, but their voices were too low.\n\nRobb Stark finally sheathed his sword. \"I... I may have been hasty with you,\" he said. \"You've done Bran a kindness, and, well...\" Robb composed himself with an effort. \"The hospitality of Winterfell is yours if you wish it, Lannister.\"\n\n\"Spare me your false courtesies, boy. You do not love me and you do not want me here. I saw an inn outside your walls, in the winter town. I'll find abed there, and both of us will sleep easier. Fora few coppers I may even find a comely wench to warm the sheets for me.\" He spoke to one of the black brothers, an old man with a twisted back and a tangled beard. \"Yoren, we go south at daybreak. You will find me on the road, no doubt.\" With that he made his exit, struggling across the hall on his short legs, past Rickon and out the door. His men followed."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 30"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did our watchman recall anything else of note?\"\n\n\"The lad swears Lord Jon was as strong as a man half his age. Often went riding with Lord Stannis, he says.\"\n\nStannis again, Ned thought. He found that curious. Jon Arryn and he had been cordial, but never friendly. And while Robert had been riding north to Winterfell, Stannis had removed himself to Dragonstone, the Targaryen island fastness he had conquered in his brother's name. He had given no word as to when he might return. \"Where did they goon these rides?\" Ned asked.\n\n\"The boy says that they visited a brothel.\"\n\n\"A brothel?\" Ned said. \"The Lord of the Eyrie and Hand of the King visited a brothel with Stannis Baratheon?\" He shook his head, incredulous, wondering what Lord Renly would make of this tidbit. Robert's lusts were the subject of ribald drinking songs throughout the realm, but Stannis was a different sort of man; a bare year younger than the king, yet utterly unlike him, stern, humorless, unforgiving, grim in his sense of duty.\n\n\"The boy insists it's true. The Hand took three guardsmen with him, and the boy says they were joking of it when he took their horses afterward.\"\n\n\"Which brothel?\" Ned asked.\n\n\"The boy did not know. The guards would.\"\n\n\"A pity Lysa carried them off to the Vale,\" Ned said dryly. \"The gods are doing their best to vex us. Lady Lysa, Maester Colemon, Lord Stannis... everyone who might actually know the truth of what happened to Jon Arryn is a thousand leagues away.\"\n\n\"Will you summon Lord Stannis back from Dragonstone?\""
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Not yet,\" Ned said. \"Not until I have a better notion of what this is all about and where he stands.\" The matter nagged at him. Why did Stannis leave? Had he played some part in Jon Arryn's murder? Or was he afraid? Ned found it hard to imagine what could frighten Stannis Baratheon, who had once held Storm's End through a year of siege, surviving on rats and boot leather while the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne sat outside with their hosts, banqueting insight of his walls.\n\n\"Bring me my doublet, if you would. The grey, with the direwolf sigil. I want this armorer to know who I am. It might make him more forthcoming.\"\n\nJory went to the wardrobe. \"Lord Renly is brother to Lord Stannis as well as the king.\"\n\n\"Yet it seems that he was not invited on these rides.\" Ned was not sure what to make of Renly, with all his friendly ways and easy smiles. A few days past, he had taken Ned aside to show him an exquisite rose gold locklet. Inside was a miniature painted in the vivid Myrish style, of a lovely young girl with doe's eyes and a cascade of soft brown hair. Renly had seemed anxious to know if the girl reminded him of anyone, and when Ned had no answer but a shrug, he had seemed disappointed. The maid was Loras Tyrell's sister Margaery, he'd confessed, but there were those who said she looked like Lyanna. \"No,\" Ned had told him, bemused. Could it be that Lord Renly, who looked so like a young Robert, had conceived a passion fora girl he fancied to be a young Lyanna? That struck him as more than passing queer.\n\nJory held out the doublet, and Ned slid his hands through the armholes. \"Perhaps Lord Stannis will return for Robert's tourney,\" he said as Jory laced the garment up the back."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That would be a stroke of fortune, my lord,\" Jory said.\n\nNed buckled on a longsword. \"In other words, not bloody likely.\" His smile was grim.\n\nJory draped Ned's cloak across his shoulders and clasped it at the throat with the Hand's badge of office. \"The armorer lives above his shop, in a large house at the top of the Street of Steel. Alyn knows the way, my lord.\"\n\nNed nodded. \"The gods help this potboy if he's sent me off haring after shadows.\" It was a slim enough staff to lean on, but the Jon Arryn that Ned Stark had known was not one to wear jeweled and silvered plate. Steel was steel; it was meant for protection, not ornament. He might have changed his views, to be sure. He would scarcely have been the first man who came to look on things differently after a few years at court... but the change was marked enough to make Ned wonder.\n\n\"Is there any other service I might perform?\"\n\n\"I suppose you'd best begin visiting whorehouses.\"\n\n\"Hard duty, my lord.\" Jory grinned. \"The men will be glad to help. Porther has made a fair start already.\"\n\nNed's favorite horse was saddled and waiting in the yard. Varly and Jacks fell in beside him as he rode through the yard. Their steel caps and shirts of mail must have been sweltering, yet they said no word of complaint. As Lord Eddard passed beneath the King's Gate into the stink of the city, his grey and white cloak streaming from his shoulders, he saw eyes everywhere and kicked his mount into a trot. His guard followed.\n\nHe looked behind him frequently as they made their way through the crowded city streets. Tomard and Desmond had left the castle early this morning to take up positions on the route they must take, and watch for anyone following them, but even so, Ned was uncertain. The shadow of the King's Spider and his little birds had him fretting like a maiden on her wedding night."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
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"value": "The Street of Steel began at the market square beside the River Gate, as it was named on maps, or the Mud Gate, as it was commonly called. A mummer on stilts was striding through the throngs like some great insect, with a horde of barefoot children trailing behind him, hooting. Elsewhere, two ragged boys no older than Bran were dueling with sticks, to the loud encouragement of some and the furious curses of others. An old woman ended the contest by leaning out of her window and emptying a bucket of slops on the heads of the combatants. In the shadow of the wall, farmers stood beside their wagons, bellowing out, \"Apples, the best apples, cheap at twice the price,\" and'Blood melons, sweet as honey,\" and'Turnips, onions, roots, here you go here, here you go, turnips, onions, roots, here you go here.\"\n\nThe Mud Gate was open, and a squad of City Watchmen stood under the portcullis in their golden cloaks, leaning on spears. When a column of riders appeared from the west, the guardsmen sprang into action, shouting commands and moving the carts and foot traffic aside to let the knight enter with his escort. The first rider through the gate carried along black banner. The silk rippled in the wind like a living thing; across the fabric was blazoned a night sky slashed with purple lightning. \"Make way for Lord Beric!\" the rider shouted. \"Make way for Lord Beric!\" And close behind came the young lord himself, a dashing figure on a black courser, with red-gold hair and a black satin cloak dusted with stars. \"Hereto fight in the Hand's tourney, my lord?\" a guardsman called out to him. \"Hereto win the Hand's tourney,\" Lord Beric shouted back as the crowd cheered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ned turned off the square where the Street of Steel began and followed its winding path up along hill, past blacksmiths working at open forges, freeriders haggling over mail shirts, and grizzled ironmongers selling old blades and razors from their wagons."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The farther they climbed, the larger the buildings grew. The man they wanted was all the way at the top of the hill, in a huge house of timber and plaster whose upper stories loomed over the narrow street. The double doors showed a hunting scene carved in ebony and weirwood. A pair of stone knights stood sentry at the entrance, armored in fanciful suits of polished red steel that transformed them into griffin and unicorn. Ned left his horse with Jacks and shouldered his way inside.\n\nThe slim young serving girl took quick note of Ned's badge and the sigil on his doublet, and the master came hurrying out, all smiles and bows. \"Wine for the King's Hand,\" he told the girl, gesturing Ned to a couch. \"I am Tobho Mott, my lord, please, please, put yourself at ease.\" He wore a black velvet coat with hammers embroidered on the sleeves in silver thread. Around his neck was a heavy silver chain and a sapphire as large as a pigeon's egg. \"If you are in need of new arms for the Hand's tourney, you have come to the right shop.\" Ned did not bother to correct him. \"My work is costly, and I make no apologies for that, my lord,\" he said as he filled two matching silver goblets. \"You will not find craftsmanship equal to mine anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms, I promise you. Visit every forge in King's Landing if you like, and compare for yourself. Any village smith can hammer out a shirt of mail; my work is art.\"\n\nNed sipped his wine and let the mango on. The Knight of Flowers bought all his armor here, Tobho boasted, and many high lords, the ones who knew fine steel, and even Lord Renly, the king's own brother. Perhaps the Hand had seen Lord Renly's new armor, the green plate with the golden antlers? No other armorer in the city could get that deep a green; he knew the secret of putting color in the steel itself, paint and enamel were the crutches of a journeyman. Or mayhaps the Hand wanted a blade? Tobho had learned to work Valyrian steel at the forges of Qohor as a boy. Only a man who knew the spells could take old weapons and forge them anew. \"The direwolf is the sigil of House Stark, is it not? I could fashion a direwolf helm so real that children will run from you in the street,\" he vowed."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned smiled. \"Did you make a falcon helm for Lord Arryn?\"\n\nTobho Mott paused along moment and set aside his wine. \"The Hand did call upon me, with Lord Stannis, the king's brother. I regret to say, they did not honor me with their patronage.\"\n\nNed looked at the man evenly, saying nothing, waiting. He had found over the years that silence sometimes yielded more than questions. And so it was this time.\n\n\"They asked to seethe boy,\" the armorer said, \"so I took them back to the forge.\"\n\n\"The boy,\" Ned echoed. He had no notion who the boy might be. \"I should like to seethe boy as well.\"\n\nTobho Mott gave him a cool, careful look. \"As you wish, my lord,\" he said with no trace of his former friendliness. He led Ned out a rear door and across a narrow yard, back to the cavernous stone barn where the work was done. When the armorer opened the door, the blast of hot air that came through made Ned feel as though he were walking into a dragon's mouth. Inside, a forge blazed in each corner, and the air stank of smoke and sulfur. Journeymen armorers glanced up from their hammers and tongs just long enough to wipe the sweat from their brows, while bare-chested apprentice boys worked the bellows.\n\nThe master called over a tall lad about Robb's age, his arms and chest corded with muscle. \"This is Lord Stark, the new Hand of the King,\" he told him as the boy looked at Ned through sullen blue eyes and pushed back sweat-soaked hair with his fingers. Thick hair, shaggy and unkempt and black as ink. The shadow of anew beard darkened his jaw. \"This is Gendry. Strong for his age, and he works hard. Show the Hand that helmet you made, lad.\" Almost shyly, the boy led them to his bench, and a steel helm shaped like a bull's head, with two great curving horns."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned turned the helm over in his hands. It was raw steel, unpolished but expertly shaped. \"This is fine work. I would be pleased if you would let me buy it.\"\n\nThe boy snatched it out of his hands. \"It's not for sale.\"\n\nTobho Mott looked horror-struck. \"Boy, this is the King's Hand. If his lordship wants this helm, make him a gift of it. He honors you by asking.\"\n\n\"I made it for me,\" the boy said stubbornly.\n\n\"A hundred pardons, my lord,\" his master said hurriedly to Ned. \"The boy is crude as new steel, and like new steel would profit from some beating. That helm is journeyman's work at best. Forgive him and I promise I will craft you a helm like none you have ever seen.\"\n\n\"He's done nothing that requires my forgiveness. Gendry, when Lord Arryn came to see you, what did you talk about?\"\n\n\"He asked me questions is all, m'lord.\"\n\n\"What sort of questions?\"\n\nThe boy shrugged. \"How was I, and was I well treated, and if I liked the work, and stuff about my mother. Who she was and what she looked like and all.\"\n\n\"What did you tell him?\" Ned asked.\n\nThe boy shoved afresh fall of black hair off his forehead. \"She died when I was little. She had yellow hair, and sometimes she used to sing tome, I remember. She worked in an alehouse.\"\n\n\"Did Lord Stannis question you as well?\"\n\n\"The bald one? No, not him. He never said no word, just glared at me, like I was some raper who done for his daughter.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Mind your filthy tongue,\" the master said. \"This is the King's own Hand.\" The boy lowered his eyes. \"A smart boy, but stubborn. That helm... the others call him bullheaded, so he threw it in their teeth.\"\n\nNed touched the boy's head, fingering the thick black hair. \"Look at me, Gendry.\" The apprentice lifted his face. Ned studied the shape of his jaw, the eyes like blue ice. Yes, he thought, I see it. \"Go back to your work, lad. I'm sorry to have bothered you.\" He walked back to the house with the master. \"Who paid the boy's apprentice fee?\" he asked lightly.\n\nMott looked fretful. \"You saw the boy. Such a strong boy. Those hands of his, those hands were made for hammers. He had such promise, I took him on without a fee.\"\n\n\"The truth now,\" Ned urged. \"The streets are full of strong boys. The day you take on an apprentice without a fee will be the day the Wall comes down. Who paid for him?\"\n\n\"A lord,\" the master said reluctantly. \"He gave no name, and wore no sigil on his coat. He paid in gold, twice the customary sum, and said he was paying once for the boy, and once for my silence.\"\n\n\"Describe him.\"\n\n\"He was stout, round of shoulder, not so tall as you. Brown beard, but there was a bit of red in it, I'll swear. He wore a rich cloak, that I do remember, heavy purple velvet worked with silver threads, but the hood shadowed his face and I never did see him clear.\" He hesitated a moment. \"My lord, I want no trouble.\"\n\n\"None of us wants trouble, but I fear these are troubled times, Master Mott,\" Ned said. \"You know who the boy is.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am only an armorer, my lord. I know what I'm told.\"\n\n\"You know who the boy is,\" Ned repeated patiently. \"That is not a question.\"\n\n\"The boy is my apprentice,\" the master said. He looked Ned in the eye, stubborn as old iron. \"Who he was before he came tome, that's none of my concern.\"\n\nNed nodded. He decided that he liked Tobho Mott, master armorer. \"If the day ever comes when Gendry would rather wield a sword than forge one, send him tome. He has the look of a warrior. Until then, you have my thanks, Master Mott, and my promise. Should I ever want a helm to frighten children, this will be the first place I visit.\"\n\nHis guard was waiting outside with the horses. \"Did you find anything, my lord?\" Jacks asked as Ned mounted up.\n\n\"I did,\" Ned told him, wondering. What had Jon Arryn wanted with a king's bastard, and why was it worth his life?"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My lady, you ought cover your head,\" Ser Rodrik told her as their horses plodded north. \"You will take a chill.\"\n\n\"It is only water, Ser Rodrik,\" Catelyn replied. Her hair hung wet and heavy, a loose strand stuck to her forehead, and she could imagine how ragged and wild she must look, but for once she did not care. The southern rain was soft and warm. Catelyn liked the feel of it on her face, gentle as a mother's kisses. It took her back to her childhood, to long grey days at Riverrun. She remembered the godswood, drooping branches heavy with moisture, and the sound of her brother's laughter as he chased her through piles of damp leaves. She remembered making mud pies with Lysa, the weight of them, the mud slick and brown between her fingers. They had served them to Littlefinger, giggling, and he'd eaten so much mud he was sick fora week. How young they all had been.\n\nCatelyn had almost forgotten. In the north, the rain fell cold and hard, and sometimes at night it turned to ice. It was as likely to kill a crop as nurture it, and it sent grown men running for the nearest shelter. That was no rain for little girls to play in.\n\n\"I am soaked through,\" Ser Rodrik complained. \"Even my bones are wet.\" The woods pressed close around them, and the steady pattering of rain on leaves was accompanied by the small sucking sounds their horses made as their hooves pulled free of the mud. \"We will want afire tonight, my lady, and a hot meal would serve us both.\"\n\n\"There is an inn at the crossroads up ahead,\" Catelyn told him. She had slept many a night therein her youth, traveling with her father. Lord Hoster Tully had been a restless man in his prime, always riding somewhere. She still remembered the innkeep, a fat woman named Masha Heddle who chewed sourleaf night and day and seemed to have an endless supply of smiles and sweet cakes for the children. The sweet cakes had been soaked with honey, rich and heavy on the tongue, but how Catelyn had dreaded those smiles. The sourleaf had stained Masha's teeth a dark red, and made her smile a bloody horror."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"An inn,\" Ser Rodrik repeated wistfully. \"If only... but we dare not risk it. If we wish to remain unknown, I think it best we seek out some small holdfast...\" He broke off as they heard sounds up the road; splashing water, the clink of mail, a horse's whinny. \"Riders,\" he warned, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword. Even on the kingsroad, it never hurt to be wary.\n\nThey followed the sounds around a lazy bend of the road and saw them; a column of armed men noisily fording a swollen stream. Catelyn reined up to let them pass. The banner in the hand of the foremost rider hung sodden and limp, but the guardsmen wore indigo cloaks and on their shoulders flew the silver eagle of Seagard. \"Mallisters,\" Ser Rodrik whispered to her, as if she had not known. \"My lady, best pull up your hood.\"\n\nCatelyn made no move. Lord Jason Mallister himself rode with them, surrounded by his knights, his son Patrek by his side and their squires close behind. They were riding for King's Landing and the Hand's tourney, she knew. For the past week, the travelers had been thick as flies upon the kingsroad; knights and freeriders, singers with their harps and drums, heavy wagons laden with hops or corn or casks of honey, traders and craftsmen and whores, and all of them moving south.\n\nShe studied Lord Jason boldly. The last time she had seen him he had been jesting with her uncle at her wedding feast; the Mallisters stood bannermen to the Tullys, and his gifts had been lavish. His brown hair was salted with white now, his face chiseled gaunt by time, yet the years had not touched his pride. He rode like a man who feared nothing. Catelyn envied him that; she had come to fear so much. As the riders passed, Lord Jason nodded a curt greeting, but it was only a high lord's courtesy to strangers chance met on the road. There was no recognition in those fierce eyes, and his son did not even waste a look."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He did not know you,\" Ser Rodrik said after, wondering.\n\n\"He saw a pair of mud-spattered travelers by the side of the road, wet and tired. It would never occur to him to suspect that one of them was the daughter of his liege lord. I think we shall be safe enough at the inn, Ser Rodrik.\"\n\nIt was near dark when they reached it, at the crossroads north of the great confluence of the Trident. Masha Heddle was fatter and greyer than Catelyn remembered, still chewing her sourleaf, but she gave them only the most cursory of looks, with nary a hint of her ghastly red smile. \"Two rooms at the top of the stair, that's all there is,\" she said, chewing all the while. \"They're under the bell tower, you won't be missing meals, though there's some thinks it too noisy. Can't be helped. We're full up, or near as makes no matter. It's those rooms or the road.\"\n\nIt was those rooms, low, dusty garrets at the top of a cramped narrow staircase. \"Leave your boots down here,\" Masha told them after she'd taken their coin. \"The boy will clean them. I won't have you tracking mud up my stairs. Mind the bell. Those who come late to meals don't eat.\" There were no smiles, and no mention of sweet cakes.\n\nWhen the supper bell rang, the sound was deafening. Catelyn had changed into dry clothes. She sat by the window, watching rain rundown the pane. The glass was milky and full of bubbles, and a wet dusk was falling outside. Catelyn could just make out the muddy crossing where the two great roads met.\n\nThe crossroads gave her pause. If they turned west from here, it was an easy ride down to Riverrun. Her father had always given her wise counsel when she needed it most, and she yearned to talk to him, to warn him of the gathering storm. If Winterfell needed to brace for war, how much more so Riverrun, so much closer to King's Landing, with the power of Casterly Rock looming to the west like a shadow. If only her father had been stronger, she might have chanced it, but Hoster Tully had been bedridden these past two years, and Catelyn was loath to tax him now."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The eastern road was wilder and more dangerous, climbing through rocky foothills and thick forests into the Mountains of the Moon, past high passes and deep chasms to the Vale of Arryn and the stony Fingers beyond. Above the Vale, the Eyrie stood high and impregnable, its towers reaching for the sky. There she would find her sister... and, perhaps, some of the answers Ned sought. Surely Lysa knew more than she had dared to put in her letter. She might have the very proof that Ned needed to bring the Lannisters to ruin, and if it came to war, they would need the Arryns and the eastern lords who owed them service.\n\nYet the mountain road was perilous. Shadowcats prowled those passes, rock slides were common, and the mountain clans were lawless brigands, descending from the heights to rob and kill and melting away like snow whenever the knights rode out from the Vale in search of them. Even Jon Arryn, as great a lord as any the Eyrie had ever known, had always traveled in strength when he crossed the mountains. Catelyn's only strength was one elderly knight, armored in loyalty.\n\nNo, she thought, Riverrun and the Eyrie would have to wait. Her path ran north to Winterfell, where her sons and her duty were waiting for her. As soon as they were safely past the Neck, she could declare herself to one of Ned's bannermen, and send riders racing ahead with orders to mount a watch on the kingsroad.\n\nThe rain obscured the fields beyond the crossroads, but Catelyn saw the land clear enough in her memory. The marketplace was just across the way, and the village a mile farther on, half a hundred white cottages surrounding a small stone sept. There would be more now; the summer had been long and peaceful. North of here the kingsroad ran along the Green Fork of the Trident, through fertile valleys and green woodlands, past thriving towns and stout holdfasts and the castles of the river lords."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn knew them all: the Blackwoods and the Brackens, ever enemies, whose quarrels her father was obliged to settle; Lady Whent, last of her line, who dwelt with her ghosts in the cavernous vaults of Harrenhal; irascible Lord Frey, who had outlived seven wives and filled his twin castles with children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and bastards and grandbastards as well. All of them were bannermen to the Tullys, their swords sworn to the service of Riverrun. Catelyn wondered if that would be enough, if it came to war. Her father was the staunchest man who'd ever lived, and she had no doubt that he would call his banners... but would the banners come? The Darrys and Rygers and Mootons had sworn oaths to Riverrun as well, yet they had fought with Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident, while Lord Frey had arrived with his levies well after the battle was over, leaving some doubt as to which army he had planned to join (theirs, he had assured the victors solemnly in the aftermath, but ever after her father had called him the Late Lord Frey). It must not come to war, Catelyn thought fervently. They must not let it.\n\nSer Rodrik came for her just as the bell ceased its clangor. \"We had best make haste if we hope to eat tonight, my lady.\"\n\n\"It might be safer if we were not knight and lady until we pass the Neck,\" she told him. \"Common travelers attract less notice. A father and daughter taken to the road on some family business, say.\"\n\n\"As you say, my lady,\" Ser Rodrik agreed. It was only when she laughed that he realized what he'd done. \"The old courtesies die hard, my-my daughter.\" He tried to tug on his missing whiskers, and sighed with exasperation."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn took his arm. \"Come, Father,\" she said. \"You'll find that Masha Heddle sets a good table, I think, but try not to praise her. You truly don't want to see her smile.\"\n\nThe common room was long and drafty, with a row of huge wooden kegs atone end and a fireplace at the other. A serving boy ran back and forthwith skewers of meat while Masha drew beer from the kegs, chewing her sourleaf all the while.\n\nThe benches were crowded, townsfolk and farmers mingling freely with all manner of travelers. The crossroads made for odd companions; dyers with black and purple hands shared a bench with rivermen reeking offish, an ironsmith thick with muscle squeezed in beside a wizened old septon, hard-bitten sellswords and soft plump merchants swapped news like boon companions.\n\nThe company included more swords than Catelyn would have liked. Three by the fire wore the red stallion badge of the Brackens, and there was a large party in blue steel ringmail and capes of a silvery grey. On their shoulder was another familiar sigil, the twin towers of House Frey. She studied their faces, but they were all too young to have known her. The senior among them would have been no older than Bran when she went north.\n\nSer Rodrik found them an empty place on the bench near the kitchen. Across the table a handsome youth was fingering a woodharp. \"Seven blessings to you, goodfolk,\" he said as they sat. An empty wine cup stood on the table before him.\n\n\"And to you, singer,\" Catelyn returned. Ser Rodrik called for bread and meat and beer in atone that meant now. The singer, a youth of some eighteen years, eyed them boldly and asked where they were going, and from whence they had come, and what news they had, letting the questions fly as quick as arrows and never pausing for an answer. \"We left King's Landing a fortnight ago,\" Catelyn replied, answering the safest of his questions."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"That's where I'm bound,\" the youth said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As she had suspected, he was more interested in telling his own story than in hearing theirs. Singers loved nothing half so well as the sound of their own voices. \"The Hand's tourney means rich lords with fat purses. The last time I came away with more silver than I could carry... or would have, if I hadn't lost it all betting on the Kingslayer to win the day.\"\n\n\"The gods frown on the gambler,\" Ser Rodrik said sternly. He was of the north, and shared the Stark views on tournaments.\n\n\"They frowned on me, for certain,\" the singer said. \"Your cruel gods and the Knight of Flowers altogether did me in.\"\n\n\"No doubt that was a lesson for you,\" Ser Rodrik said.\n\n\"It was. This time my coin will champion Ser Loras.\"\n\nSer Rodrik tried to tug at whiskers that were not there, but before he could frame a rebuke the serving boy came scurrying up. He laid trenchers of bread before them and filled them with chunks of browned meat off a skewer, dripping with hot juice. Another skewer held tiny onions, fire peppers, and fat mushrooms. Ser Rodrik set to lustily as the lad ran back to fetch them beer.\n\n\"My name is Marillion,\" the singer said, plucking a string on his woodharp. \"Doubtless you've heard me play somewhere?\"\n\nHis manner made Catelyn smile. Few wandering singers ever ventured as far north as Winterfell, but she knew his like from her girlhood in Riverrun. \"I fear not,\" she told him.\n\nHe drew a plaintive chord from the woodharp. \"That is your loss,\" he said. \"Who was the finest singer you've ever heard?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Alia of Braavos,\" Ser Rodrik answered at once.\n\n\"Oh, I'm much better than that old stick,\" Marillion said. \"If you have the silver fora song, I'll gladly show you.\"\n\n\"I might have a copper or two, but I'd sooner toss it down a well than pay for your howling,\" Ser Rodrik groused. His opinion of singers was well known; music was a lovely thing for girls, but he could not comprehend why any healthy boy would fill his hand with a harp when he might have had a sword.\n\n\"Your grandfather has a sour nature,\" Marillion said to Catelyn. \"I meant to do you honor. An homage to your beauty. In truth, I was made to sing for kings and high lords.\"\n\n\"Oh, I can see that,\" Catelyn said. \"Lord Tully is fond of song, I hear. No doubt you've been to Riverrun.\"\n\n\"A hundred times,\" the singer said airily. \"They keep a chamber for me, and the young lord is like a brother.\"\n\nCatelyn smiled, wondering what Edmure would think of that. Another singer had once bedded a girl her brother fancied; he had hated the breed ever since. \"And Winterfell?\" she asked him. \"Have you traveled north?\"\n\n\"Why would I?\" Marillion asked. \"It's all blizzards and bearskins up there, and the Starks know no music but the howling of wolves.\" Distantly, she was aware of the door banging open at the far end of the room.\n\n\"Innkeep,\" a servant's voice called out behind her, \"we have horses that want stabling, and my lord of Lannister requires a room and a hot bath.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, gods,\" Ser Rodrik said before Catelyn reached out to silence him, her fingers tightening hard around his forearm.\n\nMasha Heddle was bowing and smiling her hideous red smile. \"I'm sorry, m'lord, truly, we're full up, every room.\"\n\nThere were four of them, Catelyn saw. An old man in the black of the Night's Watch, two servants... and him, standing there small and bold as life. \"My men will sleep in your stable, and as for myself, well, I do not require a large room, as you can plainly see.\" He flashed a mocking grin. \"So long as the fire's warm and the straw reasonably free of fleas, I am a happy man.\"\n\nMasha Heddle was beside herself. \"M'lord, there's nothing, it's the tourney, there's no help for it, oh...\"\n\nTyrion Lannister pulled a coin from his purse and flicked it up over his head, caught it, tossed it again. Even across the room, where Catelyn sat, the wink of gold was unmistakable.\n\nA freerider in a faded blue cloak lurched to his feet. \"You're welcome to my room, m'lord.\"\n\n\"Now there's a clever man,\" Lannister said as he sent the coin spinning across the room. The freerider snatched it from the air. \"And a nimble one to boot.\" The dwarf turned back to Masha Heddle. \"You will be able to manage food, I trust?\"\n\n\"Anything you like, m'lord, anything at all,\" the innkeep promised. And may he choke on it, Catelyn thought, but it was Bran she saw choking, drowning on his own blood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lannister glanced at the nearest tables. \"My men will have whatever you're serving these people. Double portions, we've had along hard ride. I'll take a roast fowl-chicken, duck, pigeon, it makes no matter. And send up a flagon of your best wine. Yoren, will you sup with me?\"\n\n\"Aye, m'lord, I will,\" the black brother replied.\n\nThe dwarf had not so much as glanced toward the far end of the room, and Catelyn was thinking how grateful she was for the crowded benches between them when suddenly Marillion bounded to his feet. \"My lord of Lannister!\" he called out. \"I would be pleased to entertain you while you eat. Let me sing you the lay of your father's great victory at King's Landing!\"\n\n\"Nothing would be more likely to ruin my supper,\" the dwarf said dryly. His mismatched eyes considered the singer briefly, started to move away... and found Catelyn. He looked at her fora moment, puzzled. She turned her face away, but too late. The dwarf was smiling. \"Lady Stark, what an unexpected pleasure,\" he said. \"I was sorry to miss you at Winterfell.\"\n\nMarillion gaped at her, confusion giving way to chagrin as Catelyn rose slowly to her feet. She heard Ser Rodrik curse. If only the man had lingered at the Wall, she thought, if only...\n\n\"Lady... Stark?\" Masha Heddle said thickly.\n\n\"I was still Catelyn Tully the last time I bedded here,\" she told the innkeep. She could hear the muttering, feel the eyes upon her. Catelyn glanced around the room, at the faces of the knights and sworn swords, and took a deep breath to slow the frantic beating of her heart. Did she dare take the risk? There was no time to think it through, only the moment and the sound of her own voice ringing in her ears. \"You in the corner,\" she said to an older man she had not noticed until now. \"Is that the black bat of Harrenhal I see embroidered on your surcoat, ser?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man got to his feet. \"It is, my lady.\"\n\n\"And is Lady Whent a true and honest friend to my father, Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun?\"\n\n\"She is,\" the man replied stoutly.\n\nSer Rodrik rose quietly and loosened his sword in its scabbard. The dwarf was blinking at them, blank-faced, with puzzlement in his mismatched eyes.\n\n\"The red stallion was ever a welcome sight in Riverrun,\" she said to the trio by the fire. \"My father counts Jonos Bracken among his oldest and most loyal bannermen.\"\n\nThe three men-at-arms exchanged uncertain looks. \"Our lord is honored by his trust,\" one of them said hesitantly.\n\n\"I envy your father all these fine friends,\" Lannister quipped, \"but I do not quite seethe purpose of this, Lady Stark.\"\n\nShe ignored him, turning to the large party in blue and grey. They were the heart of the matter; there were more than twenty of them. \"I know your sigil as well: the twin towers of Frey. How fares your good lord, sers?\"\n\nTheir captain rose. \"Lord Walder is well, my lady. He plans to take anew wife on his ninetieth name day, and has asked your lord father to honor the wedding with his presence.\"\n\nTyrion Lannister sniggered. That was when Catelyn knew he washers. \"This man came a guest into my house, and there conspired to murder my son, a boy of seven,\" she proclaimed to the room at large, pointing. Ser Rodrik moved to her side, his sword in hand. \"In the name of King Robert and the good lords you serve, I call upon you to seize him and help me return him to Winterfell to await the king's justice.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She did not know what was more satisfying: the sound of a dozen swords drawn as one or the look on Tyrion Lannister's face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sansa rode to the Hand's tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold. Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. The splendor of it all took Sansa's breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind... and the knights themselves, the knights most of all.\n\n\"It is better than the songs,\" she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies. Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling.\n\nThey watched the heroes of a hundred songs ride forth, each more fabulous than the last. The seven knights of the Kingsguard took the field, all but Jaime Lannister in scaled armor the color of milk, their cloaks as white as fresh-fallen snow. Ser Jaime wore the white cloak as well, but beneath it he was shining gold from head to foot, with a lion's-head helm and a golden sword. Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, thundered past them like an avalanche. Sansa remembered Lord Yohn Royce, who had guested at Winterfell two years before. \"His armor is bronze, thousands and thousands of years old, engraved with magic runes that ward him against harm,\" she whispered to Jeyne. Septa Mordane pointed out Lord Jason Mallister, in indigo chased with silver, the wings of an eagle on his helm. He had cut down three of Rhaegar's bannermen on the Trident. The girls giggled over the warrior priest Thoros of Myr, with his flapping red robes and shaven head, until the septa told them that he had once scaled the walls of Pyke with a flaming sword in hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Other riders Sansa did not know; hedge knights from the Fingers and Highgarden and the mountains of Dorne, unsung freeriders and new-made squires, the younger sons of high lords and the heirs of lesser houses. Younger men, most had done no great deeds as yet, but Sansa and Jeyne agreed that one day the Seven Kingdoms would resound to the sound of their names. Ser Balon Swann. Lord Bryce Caron of the Marches. Bronze Yohn's heir, Ser Andar Royce, and his younger brother Ser Robar, their silvered steel plate filigreed in bronze with the same ancient runes that warded their father. The twins Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, whose shields displayed the grape cluster sigil of the Redwynes, burgundy on blue. Patrek Mallister, Lord Jason's son. Six Freys of the Crossing: Ser Jared, Ser Hosteen, Ser Danwell, Ser Emmon, Ser Theo, Ser Perwyn, sons and grandsons of old Lord Walder Frey, and his bastard son Martyn Rivers as well.\n\nJeyne Poole confessed herself frightened by the look of Jalabhar Xho, an exile prince from the Summer Isles who wore a cape of green and scarlet feathers over skin as dark as night, but when she saw young Lord Beric Dondarrion, with his hairlike red gold and his black shield slashed by lightning, she pronounced herself willing to marry him on the instant.\n\nThe Hound entered the lists as well, and so too the king's brother, handsome Lord Renly of Storm's End. Jory, Alyn, and Harwin rode for Winterfell and the north. \"Jory looks a beggar among these others,\" Septa Mordane sniffed when he appeared. Sansa could only agree. Jory's armor was blue-grey plate without device or ornament, and a thin grey cloak hung from his shoulders like a soiled rag. Yet he acquitted himself well, unhorsing Horas Redwyne in his first joust and one of the Freys in his second. In his third match, he rode three passes at a freerider named Lothor Brune whose armor was as drab as his own. Neither man lost his seat, but Brune's lance was steadier and his blows better placed, and the king gave him the victory. Alyn and Harwin fared less well; Harwin was unhorsed in his first tilt by Ser Meryn of the Kingsguard, while Alyn fell to Ser Balon Swann."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The jousting went all day and into the dusk, the hooves of the great warhorses pounding down the lists until the field was a ragged wasteland of torn earth. A dozen times Jeyne and Sansa cried out in unison as riders crashed together, lances exploding into splinters while the commons screamed for their favorites. Jeyne covered her eyes whenever a man fell, like a frightened little girl, but Sansa was made of sterner stuff. A great lady knew how to behave at tournaments. Even Septa Mordane noted her composure and nodded in approval.\n\nThe Kingslayer rode brilliantly. He overthrew Ser Andar Royce and the Marcher Lord Bryce Caron as easily as if he were riding at rings, and then took a hard-fought match from white-haired Barristan Selmy, who had won his first two tilts against men thirty and forty years his junior.\n\nSandor Clegane and his immense brother, Ser Gregor the Mountain, seemed unstoppable as well, riding down one foe after the next in ferocious style. The most terrifying moment of the day came during Ser Gregor's second joust, when his lance rode up and struck a young knight from the Vale under the gorget with such force that it drove through his throat, killing him instantly. The youth fell not ten feet from where Sansa was seated. The point of Ser Gregor's lance had snapped off in his neck, and his life's blood flowed out in slow pulses, each weaker than the one before. His armor was shiny new; a bright streak of fire ran down his outstretched arm, as the steel caught the light. Then the sun went behind a cloud, and it was gone. His cloak was blue, the color of the sky on a clear summer's day, trimmed with a border of crescent moons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and the moons turned red, one by one."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jeyne Poole wept so hysterically that Septa Mordane finally took her off to regain her composure, but Sansa sat with her hands folded in her lap, watching with a strange fascination."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She had never seen a man die before. She ought to be crying too, she thought, but the tears would not come. Perhaps she had used up all her tears for Lady and Bran. It would be different if it had been Jory or Ser Rodrik or Father, she told herself. The young knight in the blue cloak was nothing to her, some stranger from the Vale of Arryn whose name she had forgotten as soon as she heard it. And now the world would forget his name too, Sansa realized; there would be no songs sung for him. That was sad.\n\nAfter they carried off the body, a boy with a spade ran onto the field and shoveled dirt over the spot where he had fallen, to cover up the blood. Then the jousts resumed.\n\nSer Balon Swann also fell to Gregor, and Lord Renly to the Hound. Renly was unhorsed so violently that he seemed to fly backward off his charger, legs in the air. His head hit the ground with an audible crack that made the crowd gasp, but it was just the golden antler on his helm. One of the tines had snapped off beneath him. When Lord Renly climbed to his feet, the commons cheered wildly, for King Robert's handsome young brother was a great favorite. He handed the broken tine to his conqueror with a gracious bow. The Hound snorted and tossed the broken antler into the crowd, where the commons began to punch and claw over the little bit of gold, until Lord Renly walked out among them and restored the peace. By then Septa Mordane had returned, alone. Jeyne had been feeling ill, she explained; she had helped her back to the castle. Sansa had almost forgotten about Jeyne.\n\nLater a hedge knight in a checkered cloak disgraced himself by killing Beric Dondarrion's horse, and was declared forfeit. Lord Beric shifted his saddle to anew mount, only to be knocked right off it by Thoros of Myr. Ser Aron Santagar and Lothor Brune tilted thrice without result; Ser Aron fell afterward to Lord Jason Mallister, and Brune to Yohn Royce's younger son, Robar."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the end it came down to four; the Hound and his monstrous brother Gregor, Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer, and Ser Loras Tyrell, the youth they called the Knight of Flowers.\n\nSer Loras was the youngest son of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. At sixteen, he was the youngest rider on the field, yet he had unhorsed three knights of the Kingsguard that morning in his first three jousts. Sansa had never seen anyone so beautiful. His plate was intricately fashioned and enameled as a bouquet of a thousand different flowers, and his snow-white stallion was draped in a blanket of red and white roses. After each victory, Ser Loras would remove his helm and ride slowly round the fence, and finally pluck a single white rose from the blanket and toss it to some fair maiden in the crowd.\n\nHis last match of the day was against the younger Royce. Ser Robar's ancestral runes proved small protection as Ser Loras split his shield and drove him from his saddle to crash with an awful clangor in the dirt. Robar lay moaning as the victor made his circuit of the field. Finally they called fora litter and carried him off to his tent, dazed and unmoving. Sansa never saw it. Her eyes were only for Ser Loras. When the white horse stopped in front of her, she thought her heart would burst.\n\nTo the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. \"Sweet lady,\" he said, \"no victory is half so beautiful as you.\" Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry. His hair was amass of lazy brown curls, his eyes like liquid gold. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose and sat clutching it long after Ser Loras had ridden off."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When Sansa finally looked up, a man was standing over her, staring. He was short, with a pointed beard and a silver streak in his hair, almost as old as her father. \"You must be one of her daughters,\" he said to her. He had grey-green eyes that did not smile when his mouth did. \"You have the Tully look.\"\n\n\"I'm Sansa Stark,\" she said, ill at ease. The man wore a heavy cloak with a fur collar, fastened with a silver mockingbird, and he had the effortless manner of a high lord, but she did not know him. \"I have not had the honor, my lord.\"\n\nSepta Mordane quickly took a hand. \"Sweet child, this is Lord Petyr Baelish, of the king's small council.\"\n\n\"Your mother was my queen of beauty once,\" the man said quietly. His breath smelled of mint. \"You have her hair.\" His fingers brushed against her cheek as he stroked one auburn lock. Quite abruptly he turned and walked away.\n\nBy then, the moon was well up and the crowd was tired, so the king decreed that the last three matches would be fought the next morning, before the melee. While the commons began their walk home, talking of the day's jousts and the matches to come on the morrow, the court moved to the riverside to begin the feast. Six monstrous huge aurochs had been roasting for hours, turning slowly on wooden spits while kitchen boys basted them with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit. Tables and benches had been raised outside the pavilions, piled high with sweetgrass and strawberries and fresh-baked bread.\n\nSansa and Septa Mordane were given places of high honor, to the left of the raised dais where the king himself sat beside his queen. When Prince Joffrey seated himself to her right, she felt her throat tighten. He had not spoken a word to her since the awful thing had happened, and she had not dared to speak to him. At first she thought she hated him for what they'd done to Lady, but after Sansa had wept her eyes dry, she told herself that it had not been Joffrey's doing, not truly. The queen had done it; she was the one to hate, her and Arya. Nothing bad would have happened except for Arya."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She could not hate Joffrey tonight. He was too beautiful to hate. He wore a deep blue doublet studded with a double row of golden lion's heads, and around his brow a slim coronet made of gold and sapphires. His hair was as bright as the metal. Sansa looked at him and trembled, afraid that he might ignore her or, worse, turn hateful again and send her weeping from the table.\n\nInstead Joffrey smiled and kissed her hand, handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs, and said, \"Ser Loras has a keen eye for beauty, sweet lady.\"\n\n\"He was too kind,\" she demurred, trying to remain modest and calm, though her heart was singing. \"Ser Loras is a true knight. Do you think he will win tomorrow, my lord?\"\n\n\"No,\" Joffrey said. \"My dog will do for him, or perhaps my uncle Jaime. And in a few years, when I am old enough to enter the lists, I shall do for them all.\" He raised his hand to summon a servant with a flagon of iced summerwine, and poured her a cup. She looked anxiously at Septa Mordane, until Joffrey leaned over and filled the septa's cup as well, so she nodded and thanked him graciously and said not another word.\n\nThe servants kept the cups filled all night, yet afterward Sansa could not recall ever tasting the wine. She needed no wine. She was drunk on the magic of the night, giddy with glamour, swept away by beauties she had dreamt of all her life and never dared hope to know. Singers sat before the king's pavilion, filling the dusk with music. A juggler kept a cascade of burning clubs spinning through the air. The king's own fool, the pie-faced simpleton called Moon Boy, danced about on stilts, all in motley, making mock of everyone with such deft cruelty that Sansa wondered if he was simple after all. Even Septa Mordane was helpless before him; when he sang his little song about the High Septon, she laughed so hard she spilled wine on herself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And Joffrey was the soul of courtesy. He talked to Sansa all night, showering her with compliments, making her laugh, sharing little bits of court gossip, explaining Moon Boy's japes. Sansa was so captivated that she quite forgot all her courtesies and ignored Septa Mordane, seated to her left.\n\nAll the while the courses came and went. A thick soup of barley and venison. Salads of sweetgrass and spinach and plums, sprinkled with crushed nuts. Snails in honey and garlic. Sansa had never eaten snails before; Joffrey showed her how to get the snail out of the shell, and fed her the first sweet morsel himself. Then came trout fresh from the river, baked in clay; her prince helped her crack open the hard casing to expose the flaky white flesh within. And when the meat course was brought out, he served her himself, slicing a queen's portion from the joint, smiling as he laid it on her plate. She could see from the way he moved that his right arm was still troubling him, yet he uttered not a word of complaint.\n\nLater came sweetbreads and pigeon pie and baked apples fragrant with cinnamon and lemon cakes frosted in sugar, but by then Sansa was so stuffed that she could not manage more than two little lemon cakes, as much as she loved them. She was wondering whether she might attempt a third when the king began to shout.\n\nKing Robert had grown louder with each course. From time to time Sansa could hear him laughing or roaring a command over the music and the clangor of plates and cutlery, but they were too faraway for her to make out his words.\n\nNow everybody heard him. \"No,\" he thundered in a voice that drowned out all other speech. Sansa was shocked to seethe king on his feet, red of face, reeling. He had a goblet of wine in one hand, and he was drunk as a man could be. \"You do not tell me what to do, woman,\" he screamed at Queen Cersei. \"I am king here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Everyone was staring."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sansa saw Ser Barristan, and the king's brother Renly, and the short man who had talked to her so oddly and touched her hair, but no one made a move to interfere. The queen's face was a mask, so bloodless that it might have been sculpted from snow. She rose from the table, gathered her skirts around her, and stormed off in silence, servants trailing behind.\n\nJaime Lannister put a hand on the king's shoulder, but the king shoved him away hard. Lannister stumbled and fell. The king guffawed. \"The great knight. I can still knock you in the dirt. Remember that, Kingslayer.\" He slapped his chest with the jeweled goblet, splashing wine allover his satin tunic. \"Give me my hammer and not a man in the realm can stand before me!\"\n\nJaime Lannister rose and brushed himself off. \"As you say, Your Grace.\" His voice was stiff.\n\nLord Renly came forward, smiling. \"You've spilled your wine, Robert. Let me bring you afresh goblet.\"\n\nSansa started as Joffrey laid his hand on her arm. \"It grows late,\" the prince said. He had a queer look on his face, as if he were not seeing her at all. \"Do you need an escort back to the castle?\"\n\n\"No,\" Sansa began. She looked for Septa Mordane, and was startled to find her with her head on the table, snoring soft and ladylike snores. \"I mean to say... yes, thank you, that would be most kind. I am tired, and the way is so dark. I should be glad for some protection.\"\n\nJoffrey called out, \"Dog!\""
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"value": "Sandor Clegane seemed to take form out of the night, so quickly did he appear. He had exchanged his armor fora red woolen tunic with a leather dog's head sewn on the front. The light of the torches made his burned face shine a dull red. \"Yes, Your Grace?\" he said.\n\n\"Take my betrothed back to the castle, and see that no harm befalls her,\" the prince told him brusquely. And without even a word of farewell, Joffrey strode off, leaving her there.\n\nSansa could feel the Hound watching her. \"Did you think Joff was going to take you himself?\" He laughed. He had a laugh like the snarling of dogs in a pit. \"Small chance of that.\" He pulled her unresisting to her feet. \"Come, you're not the only one needs sleep. I've drunk too much, and I may need to kill my brother tomorrow.\" He laughed again.\n\nSuddenly terrified, Sansa pushed at Septa Mordane's shoulder, hoping to wake her, but she only snored the louder. King Robert had stumbled off and half the benches were suddenly empty. The feast was over, and the beautiful dream had ended with it.\n\nThe Hound snatched up a torch to light their way. Sansa followed close beside him. The ground was rocky and uneven; the flickering light made it seem to shift and move beneath her. She kept her eyes lowered, watching where she placed her feet. They walked among the pavilions, each with its banner and its armor hung outside, the silence weighing heavier with every step. Sansa could not bear the sight of him, he frightened her so, yet she had been raised in all the ways of courtesy. A true lady would not notice his face, she told herself. \"You rode gallantly today, Ser Sandor,\" she made herself say."
},
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"value": "Sandor Clegane snarled at her. \"Spare me your empty little compliments, girl... and your ser's. I am no knight. I spit on them and their vows. My brother is a knight. Did you see him ride today?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Sansa whispered, trembling. \"He was...\"\n\n\"Gallant?\" the Hound finished.\n\nHe was mocking her, she realized. \"No one could withstand him,\" she managed at last, proud of herself. It was no lie.\n\nSandor Clegane stopped suddenly in the middle of a dark and empty field. She had no choice but to stop beside him. \"Some septa trained you well. You're like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren't you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite.\"\n\n\"That's unkind.\" Sansa could feel her heart fluttering in her chest. \"You're frightening me. I want to go now.\"\n\n\"No one could withstand him,\" the Hound rasped. \"That's truth enough. No one could ever withstand Gregor. That boy today, his second joust, oh, that was a pretty bit of business. You saw that, did you? Fool boy, he had no business riding in this company. No money, no squire, no one to help him with that armor. That gorget wasn't fastened proper. You think Gregor didn't notice that? You think Ser Gregor's lance rode up by chance, do you? Pretty little talking girl, you believe that, you're empty-headed as a bird for true. Gregor's lance goes where Gregor wants it to go. Look at me. Look at me!\" Sandor Clegane put a huge hand under her chin and forced her face up. He squatted in front of her, and moved the torch close. \"There's a pretty for you. Take a good long stare. You know you want to. I've watched you turning away all the way down the kingsroad. Piss on that. Take your look.\""
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"value": "His fingers held her jaw as hard as an iron trap. His eyes watched hers. Drunken eyes, sullen with anger. She had to look.\n\nThe right side of his face was gaunt, with sharp cheekbones and a grey eye beneath a heavy brow. His nose was large and hooked, his hair thin, dark. He wore it long and brushed it sideways, because no hair grew on the other side of that face.\n\nThe left side of his face was a ruin. His ear had been burned away; there was nothing left but a hole. His eye was still good, but all around it was a twisted mass of scar, slick black flesh hard as leather, pocked with craters and fissured by deep cracks that gleamed red and wet when he moved. Down by his jaw, you could see a hint of bone where the flesh had been seared away.\n\nSansa began to cry. He let goof her then, and snuffed out the torch in the dirt. \"No pretty words for that, girl? No little compliment the septa taught you?\" When there was no answer, he continued. \"Most of them, they think it was some battle. A siege, a burning tower, an enemy with a torch. One fool asked if it was dragonsbreath.\" His laugh was softer this time, but just as bitter. \"I'll tell you what it was, girl,\" he said, a voice from the night, a shadow leaning so close now that she could smell the sour stench of wine on his breath. \" I was younger than you, six, maybe seven. A woodcarver setup shop in the village under my father's keep, and to buy favor he sent us gifts. The old man made marvelous toys. I don't remember what I got, but it was Gregor's gift I wanted. A wooden knight, all painted up, every joint pegged separate and fixed with strings, so you could make him fight. Gregor is five years older than me, the toy was nothing to him, he was already a squire, near six foot tall and muscled like an ox. So I took his knight, but there was no joy to it, I tell you. I was scared all the while, and true enough, he found me. There was a brazier in the room. Gregor never said a word, just picked me up under his arm and shoved the side of my face down in the burning coals and held me there while I screamed and screamed. You saw how strong he is. Even then, it took three grown men to drag him off me. The septons preach about the seven hells. What do they know? Only a man who's been burned knows what hell is truly like."
},
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"value": "\"My father told everyone my bedding had caught fire, and our maester gave me ointments. Ointments! Gregor got his ointments too. Four years later, they anointed him with the seven oils and he recited his knightly vows and Rhaegar Targaryen tapped him on the shoulder and said, \"Arise, Ser Gregor.\"\"\n\nThe rasping voice trailed off. He squatted silently before her, a hulking black shape shrouded in the night, hidden from her eyes. Sansa could hear his ragged breathing. She was sad for him, she realized. Somehow, the fear had gone away.\n\nThe silence went on and on, so long that she began to grow afraid once more, but she was afraid for him now, not for herself. She found his massive shoulder with her hand. \"He was no true knight,\" she whispered to him.\n\nThe Hound threw back his head and roared. Sansa stumbled back, away from him, but he caught her arm. \"No,\" he growled at her, \"no, little bird, he was no true knight.\"\n\nThe rest of the way into the city, Sandor Clegane said not a word. He led her to where the carts were waiting, told a driver to take them back to the Red Keep, and climbed in after her. They rode in silence through the King's Gate and up torchlit city streets. He opened the postern door and led her into the castle, his burned face twitching and his eyes brooding, and he was one step behind her as they climbed the tower stairs. He took her safe all the way to the corridor outside her bedchamber.\n\n\"Thank you, my lord,\" Sansa said meekly.\n\nThe Hound caught her by the arm and leaned close. \"The things I told you tonight,\" he said, his voice sounding even rougher than usual. \"If you ever tell Joffrey... your sister, your father... any of them...\""
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"value": "\"I won't,\" Sansa whispered. \"I promise.\"\n\nIt was not enough. \"If you ever tell anyone,\" he finished, \"I'll kill you.\""
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"value": "\"I stood last vigil for him myself,\" Ser Barristan Selmy said as they looked down at the body in the back of the cart. \"He had no one else. A mother in the Vale, I am told.\"\n\nIn the pale dawn light, the young knight looked as though he were sleeping. He had not been handsome, but death had smoothed his rough-hewn features and the silent sisters had dressed him in his best velvet tunic, with a high collar to cover the ruin the lance had made of his throat. Eddard Stark looked at his face, and wondered if it had been for his sake that the boy had died. Slain by a Lannister bannerman before Ned could speak to him; could that be mere happenstance? He supposed he would never know.\n\n\"Hugh was Jon Arryn's squire for four years,\" Selmy went on. \"The king knighted him before he rode north, in Jon's memory. The lad wanted it desperately, yet I fear he was not ready.\"\n\nNed had slept badly last night and he felt tired beyond his years. \"None of us is ever ready,\" he said.\n\n\"For knighthood?\"\n\n\"For death.\" Gently Ned covered the boy with his cloak, a bloodstained bit of blue bordered in crescent moons. When his mother asked why her son was dead, he reflected bitterly, they would tell her he had fought to honor the King's Hand, Eddard Stark. \"This was needless. War should not be a game.\" Ned turned to the woman beside the cart, shrouded in grey, face hidden but for her eyes. The silent sisters prepared men for the grave, and it was ill fortune to look on the face of death. \"Send his armor home to the Vale. The mother will want to have it.\""
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"value": "\"It is worth a fair piece of silver,\" Ser Barristan said. \"The boy had it forged special for the tourney. Plain work, but good. I do not know if he had finished paying the smith.\"\n\n\"He paid yesterday, my lord, and he paid dearly,\" Ned replied. And to the silent sister he said, \"Send the mother the armor. I will deal with this smith.\" She bowed her head.\n\nAfterward Ser Barristan walked with Ned to the king's pavilion. The camp was beginning to stir. Fat sausages sizzled and spit over firepits, spicing the air with the scents of garlic and pepper. Young squires hurried about on errands as their masters woke, yawning and stretching, to meet the day. A serving man with a goose under his arm bent his knee when he caught sight of them. \"M'lords,\" he muttered as the goose honked and pecked at his fingers. The shields displayed outside each tent heralded its occupant: the silver eagle of Seagard, Bryce Caron's field of nightingales, a cluster of grapes for the Redwynes, brindled boar, red ox, burning tree, white ram, triple spiral, purple unicorn, dancing maiden, blackadder, twin towers, horned owl, and last the pure white blazons of the Kingsguard, shining like the dawn.\n\n\"The king means to fight in the melee today,\" Ser Barristan said as they were passing Ser Meryn's shield, its paint sullied by a deep gash where Loras Tyrell's lance had scarred the wood as he drove him from his saddle.\n\n\"Yes,\" Ned said grimly. Jory had woken him last night to bring him that news. Small wonder he had slept so badly."
}
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[
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"value": "Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 33"
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"value": "\"It is worth a fair piece of silver,\" Ser Barristan said. \"The boy had it forged special for the tourney. Plain work, but good. I do not know if he had finished paying the smith.\"\n\n\"He paid yesterday, my lord, and he paid dearly,\" Ned replied. And to the silent sister he said, \"Send the mother the armor. I will deal with this smith.\" She bowed her head.\n\nAfterward Ser Barristan walked with Ned to the king's pavilion. The camp was beginning to stir. Fat sausages sizzled and spit over firepits, spicing the air with the scents of garlic and pepper. Young squires hurried about on errands as their masters woke, yawning and stretching, to meet the day. A serving man with a goose under his arm bent his knee when he caught sight of them. \"M'lords,\" he muttered as the goose honked and pecked at his fingers. The shields displayed outside each tent heralded its occupant: the silver eagle of Seagard, Bryce Caron's field of nightingales, a cluster of grapes for the Redwynes, brindled boar, red ox, burning tree, white ram, triple spiral, purple unicorn, dancing maiden, blackadder, twin towers, horned owl, and last the pure white blazons of the Kingsguard, shining like the dawn.\n\n\"The king means to fight in the melee today,\" Ser Barristan said as they were passing Ser Meryn's shield, its paint sullied by a deep gash where Loras Tyrell's lance had scarred the wood as he drove him from his saddle.\n\n\"Yes,\" Ned said grimly. Jory had woken him last night to bring him that news. Small wonder he had slept so badly."
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"value": "Ser Barristan's look was troubled. \"They say night's beauties fade at dawn, and the children of wine are oft disowned in the morning light.\"\n\n\"They say so,\" Ned agreed, \"but not of Robert.\" Other men might reconsider words spoken in drunken bravado, but Robert Baratheon would remember and, remembering, would never back down.\n\nThe king's pavilion was close by the water, and the morning mists off the river had wreathed it in wisps of grey. It was all of golden silk, the largest and grandest structure in the camp. Outside the entrance, Robert's warhammer was displayed beside an immense iron shield blazoned with the crowned stag of House Baratheon.\n\nNed had hoped to discover the king still abed in a wine-soaked sleep, but luck was not with him. They found Robert drinking beer from a polished horn and roaring his displeasure at two young squires who were trying to buckle him into his armor. \"Your Grace,\" one was saying, almost in tears, \"it's made too small, it won't go.\" He fumbled, and the gorget he was trying to fit around Robert's thick neck tumbled to the ground.\n\n\"Seven hells!\" Robert swore. \"Do I have to do it myself? Piss on the both of you. Pick it up. Don't just stand there gaping, Lancel, pick it up!\" The lad jumped, and the king noticed his company. \"Look at these oafs, Ned. My wife insisted I take these two to squire for me, and they're worse than useless. Can't even put a man's armor on him properly. Squires, they say. I say they're swineherds dressed up in silk.\"\n\nNed only needed a glance to understand the difficulty. \"The boys are not at fault,\" he told the king. \"You're too fat for your armor, Robert.\""
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"value": "Robert Baratheon took along swallow of beer, tossed the empty horn onto his sleeping furs, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said darkly, \"Fat? Fat, is it? Is that how you speak to your king?\" He let go his laughter, sudden as a storm. \"Ah, damn you, Ned, why are you always right?\"\n\nThe squires smiled nervously until the king turned on them. \"You. Yes, both of you. You heard the Hand. The king is too fat for his armor. Go find Ser Aron Santagar. Tell him I need the breastplate stretcher. Now! What are you waiting for?\"\n\nThe boys tripped over each other in their haste to be quit of the tent. Robert managed to keep astern face until they were gone. Then he dropped back into a chair, shaking with laughter.\n\nSer Barristan Selmy chuckled with him. Even Eddard Stark managed a smile. Always, though, the graver thoughts crept in. He could not help taking note of the two squires: handsome boys, fair and well made. One was Sansa's age, with long golden curls; the other perhaps fifteen, sandy-haired, with a wisp of a mustache and the emerald-green eyes of the queen.\n\n\"Ah, I wish I could be thereto see Santagar's face,\" Robert said. \"I hope he'll have the wit to send them to someone else. We ought to keep them running all day!\"\n\n\"Those boys,\" Ned asked him. \"Lannisters?\"\n\nRobert nodded, wiping tears from his eyes. \"Cousins. Sons of Lord Tywin's brother. One of the dead ones. Or perhaps the live one, now that I come to think on it. I don't recall. My wife comes from a very large family, Ned.\""
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"value": "Avery ambitious family, Ned thought. He had nothing against the squires, but it troubled him to see Robert surrounded by the queen's kin, waking and sleeping. The Lannister appetite for offices and honors seemed to know no bounds. \"The talk is you and the queen had angry words last night.\"\n\nThe mirth curdled on Robert's face. \"The woman tried to forbid me to fight in the melee. She's sulking in the castle now, damn her. Your sister would never have shamed me like that.\"\n\n\"You never knew Lyanna as I did, Robert,\" Ned told him. \"You saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath. She would have told you that you have no business in the melee.\"\n\n\"You too?\" The king frowned. \"You area sour man, Stark. Too long in the north, all the juices have frozen inside you. Well, mine are still running.\" He slapped his chest to prove it.\n\n\"You are the king,\" Ned reminded him.\n\n\"I sit on the damn iron seat when I must. Does that mean I don't have the same hungers as other men? A bit of wine now and again, a girl squealing in bed, the feel of a horse between my legs? Seven hells, Ned, I want to hit someone.\"\n\nSer Barristan Selmy spoke up. \"Your Grace,\" he said, \"it is not seemly that the king should ride into the melee. It would not be a fair contest. Who would dare strike you?\"\n\nRobert seemed honestly taken aback. \"Why, all of them, damn it. If they can. And the last man left standing...\"\n\n\"... will be you,\" Ned finished. He saw at once that Selmy had hit the mark. The dangers of the melee were only a savor to Robert, but this touched on his pride. \"Ser Barristan is right. There's not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who would dare risk your displeasure by hurting you.\""
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"value": "The king rose to his feet, his face flushed. \"Are you telling me those prancing cravens will let me win?\"\n\n\"Fora certainty,\" Ned said, and Ser Barristan Selmy bowed his head in silent accord.\n\nFora moment Robert was so angry he could not speak. He strode across the tent, whirled, strode back, his face dark and angry. He snatched up his breastplate from the ground and threw it at Barristan Selmy in a wordless fury. Selmy dodged. \"Get out,\" the king said then, coldly. \"Get out before I kill you.\"\n\nSer Barristan left quickly. Ned was about to follow when the king called out again. \"Not you, Ned.\"\n\nNed turned back. Robert took up his horn again, filled it with beer from a barrel in the corner, and thrust it at Ned. \"Drink,\" he said brusquely.\n\n\"I've no thirst-\"\n\n\"Drink. Your king commands it.\"\n\nNed took the horn and drank. The beer was black and thick, so strong it stung the eyes.\n\nRobert sat down again. \"Damn you, Ned Stark. You and Jon Arryn, I loved you both. What have you done tome? You were the one should have been king, you or Jon.\"\n\n\"You had the better claim, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"I told you to drink, not to argue. You made me king, you could at least have the courtesy to listen when I talk, damn you. Look at me, Ned. Look at what kinging has done tome. Gods, too fat for my armor, how did it ever come to this?\"\n\n\"Robert...\"\n\n\"Drink and stay quiet, the king is talking. I swear to you, I was never so alive as when I was winning this throne, or so dead as now that I've won it. And Cersei... I have Jon Arryn to thank for her. I had no wish to marry after Lyanna was taken from me, but Jon said the realm needed an heir. Cersei Lannister would be a good match, he told me, she would bind Lord Tywin tome should Viserys Targaryen ever try to win back his father's throne,\" The king shook his head. \"I loved that old man, I swear it, but now I think he was a bigger fool than Moon Boy. Oh, Cersei is lovely to look at, truly, but cold... the way she guards her cunt, you'd think she had all the gold of Casterly Rock between her legs. Here, give me that beer if you won't drink it.\" He took the horn, upended it, belched, wiped his mouth. \"I am sorry for your girl, Ned. Truly. About the wolf, I mean. My son was lying, I'd stake my soul on it. My son... you love your children, don't you?\""
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"value": "\"With all my heart,\" Ned said.\n\n\"Let me tell you a secret, Ned. More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the crown. Take ship for the Free Cities with my horse and my hammer, spend my time warring and whoring, that's what I was made for. The sellsword king, how the singers would love me. You know what stops me? The thought of Joffrey on the throne, with Cersei standing behind him whispering in his ear. My son. How could I have made a son like that, Ned?\"\n\n\"He's only a boy,\" Ned said awkwardly. He had small liking for Prince Joffrey, but he could hear the pain in Robert's voice. \"Have you forgotten how wild you were at his age?\"\n\n\"It would not trouble me if the boy was wild, Ned. You don't know him as I do.\" He sighed and shook his head. \"Ah, perhaps you are right. Jon despaired of me often enough, yet I grew into a good king.\" Robert looked at Ned and scowled at his silence. \"You might speak up and agree now, you know.\"\n\n\"Your Grace...\" Ned began, carefully.\n\nRobert slapped Ned on the back. \"Ah, say that I'm a better king than Aerys and be done with it. You never could lie for love nor honor, Ned Stark. I'm still young, and now that you're herewith me, things will be different. We'll make this a reign to sing of, and damn the Lannisters to seven hells. I smell bacon. Who do you think our champion will be today? Have you seen Mace Tyrell's boy? The Knight of Flowers, they call him. Now there's a son any man would be proud to own to. Last tourney, he dumped the Kingslayer on his golden rump, you ought to have seen the look on Cersei's face. I laughed till my sides hurt. Renly says he has this sister, a maid of fourteen, lovely as a dawn...\""
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"value": "They broke their fast on black bread and boiled goose eggs and fish fried up with onions and bacon, at a trestle table by the river's edge. The king's melancholy melted away with the morning mist, and before long Robert was eating an orange and waxing fond about a morning at the Eyrie when they had been boys. \"... had given Jon a barrel of oranges, remember? Only the things had gone rotten, so I flung mine across the table and hit Dacks right in the nose. You remember, Redfort's pock-faced squire? He tossed one back at me, and before Jon could so much as fart, there were oranges flying across the High Hall in every direction.\" He laughed uproariously, and even Ned smiled, remembering.\n\nThis was the boy he had grownup with, he thought; this was the Robert Baratheon he'd known and loved. If he could prove that the Lannisters were behind the attack on Bran, prove that they had murdered Jon Arryn, this man would listen. Then Cersei would fall, and the Kingslayer with her, and if Lord Tywin dared to rouse the west, Robert would smash him as he had smashed Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident. He could see it all so clearly.\n\nThat breakfast tasted better than anything Eddard Stark had eaten in along time, and afterward his smiles came easier and more often, until it was time for the tournament to resume.\n\nNed walked with the king to the jousting field. He had promised to watch the final tilts with Sansa; Septa Mordane was ill today, and his daughter was determined not to miss the end of the jousting. Ashe saw Robert to his place, he noted that Cersei Lannister had chosen not to appear; the place beside the king was empty. That too gave Ned cause to hope."
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"value": "He shouldered his way to where his daughter was seated and found her as the horns blew for the day's first joust. Sansa was so engrossed she scarcely seemed to notice his arrival.\n\nSandor Clegane was the first rider to appear. He wore an olive-green cloak over his soot-grey armor. That, and his hound's-head helm, were his only concession to ornament.\n\n\"A hundred golden dragons on the Kingslayer,\" Littlefinger announced loudly as Jaime Lannister entered the lists, riding an elegant blood bay destrier. The horse wore a blanket of gilded ringmail, and Jaime glittered from head to heel. Even his lance was fashioned from the golden wood of the Summer Isles.\n\n\"Done,\" Lord Renly shouted back. \"The Hound has a hungry look about him this morning.\"\n\n\"Even hungry dogs know better than to bite the hand that feeds them,\" Littlefinger called dryly.\n\nSandor Clegane dropped his visor with an audible clang and took up his position. Ser Jaime tossed a kiss to some woman in the commons, gently lowered his visor, and rode to the end of the lists. Both men couched their lances.\n\nNed Stark would have loved nothing so well as to see them both lose, but Sansa was watching it all moist-eyed and eager. The hastily erected gallery trembled as the horses broke into a gallop. The Hound leaned forward as he rode, his lance rock steady, but Jaime shifted his seat deftly in the instant before impact. Clegane's point was turned harmlessly against the golden shield with the lion blazon, while his own hit square. Wood shattered, and the Hound reeled, fighting to keep his seat. Sansa gasped. A ragged cheer went up from the commons."
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"value": "\"I wonder how I ought spend your money,\" Littlefinger called down to Lord Renly.\n\nThe Hound just managed to stay in his saddle. He jerked his mount around hard and rode back to the lists for the second pass. Jaime Lannister tossed down his broken lance and snatched up afresh one, jesting with his squire. The Hound spurred forward at a hard gallop. Lannister rode to meet him. This time, when Jaime shifted his seat, Sandor Clegane shifted with him. Both lances exploded, and by the time the splinters had settled, a riderless blood bay was trotting off in search of grass while Ser Jaime Lannister rolled in the dirt, golden and dented.\n\nSansa said, \"I knew the Hound would win.\"\n\nLittlefinger overheard. \"If you know who's going to win the second match, speak up now before Lord Renly plucks me clean,\" he called to her. Ned smiled.\n\n\"A pity the Imp is not herewith us,\" Lord Renly said. \"I should have won twice as much.\"\n\nJaime Lannister was back on his feet, but his ornate lion helmet had been twisted around and dented in his fall, and now he could not get it off. The commons were hooting and pointing, the lords and ladies were trying to stifle their chuckles, and failing, and over it all Ned could hear King Robert laughing, louder than anyone. Finally they had to lead the Lion of Lannister off to a blacksmith, blind and stumbling.\n\nBy then Ser Gregor Clegane was in position at the head of the lists. He was huge, the biggest man that Eddard Stark had ever seen. Robert Baratheon and his brothers were all big men, as was the Hound, and back at Winterfell there was a simpleminded stableboy named Hodor who dwarfed them all, but the knight they called the Mountain That Rides would have towered over Hodor. He was well over seven feet tall, closer to eight, with massive shoulders and arms thick as the trunks of small trees. His destrier seemed a pony in between his armored legs, and the lance he carried looked as small as a broom handle."
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{
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"value": "Unlike his brother, Ser Gregor did not live at court. He was a solitary man who seldom left his own lands, but for wars and tourneys. He had been with Lord Tywin when King's Landing fell, anew-made knight of seventeen years, even then distinguished by his size and his implacable ferocity. Some said it had been Gregor who'd dashed the skull of the infant prince Aegon Targaryen against a wall, and whispered that afterward he had raped the mother, the Dornish princess Elia, before putting her to the sword. These things were not said in Gregor's hearing.\n\nNed Stark could not recall ever speaking to the man, though Gregor had ridden with them during Balon Greyjoy's rebellion, one knight among thousands. He watched him with disquiet. Ned seldom put much stock in gossip, but the things said of Ser Gregor were more than ominous. He was soon to be married for the third time, and one heard dark whisperings about the deaths of his first two wives. It was said that his keep was a grim place where servants disappeared unaccountably and even the dogs were afraid to enter the hall. And there had been a sister who had died young under queer circumstances, and the fire that had disfigured his brother, and the hunting accident that had killed their father. Gregor had inherited the keep, the gold, and the family estates. His younger brother Sandor had left the same day to take service with the Lannisters as a sworn sword, and it was said that he had never returned, not even to visit.\n\nWhen the Knight of Flowers made his entrance, a murmur ran through the crowd, and he heard Sansa's fervent whisper, \"Oh, he's so beautiful.\" Ser Loras Tyrell was slender as a reed, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a blinding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. The commons realized in the same instant as Ned that the blue of the flowers came from sapphires; a gasp went up from a thousand throats. Across the boy's shoulders his cloak hung heavy. It was woven of forget-me-nots, real ones, hundreds of fresh blooms sewn to a heavy woolen cape."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His courser was as slim as her rider, a beautiful grey mare, built for speed."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Gregor's huge stallion trumpeted as he caught her scent. The boy from Highgarden did something with his legs, and his horse pranced sideways, nimble as a dancer. Sansa clutched at his arm. \"Father, don't let Ser Gregor hurt him,\" she said. Ned saw she was wearing the rose that Ser Loras had given her yesterday. Jory had told him about that as well.\n\n\"These are tourney lances,\" he told his daughter. \"They make them to splinter on impact, so no one is hurt.\" Yet he remembered the dead boy in the cart with his cloak of crescent moons, and the words were raw in his throat.\n\nSer Gregor was having trouble controlling his horse. The stallion was screaming and pawing the ground, shaking his head. The Mountain kicked at the animal savagely with an armored boot. The horse reared and almost threw him.\n\nThe Knight of Flowers saluted the king, rode to the far end of the list, and couched his lance, ready. Ser Gregor brought his animal to the line, fighting with the reins. And suddenly it began. The Mountain's stallion broke in a hard gallop, plunging forward wildly, while the mare charged as smooth as a flow of silk. Ser Gregor wrenched his shield into position, juggled with his lance, and all the while fought to hold his unruly mount on a straight line, and suddenly Loras Tyrell was on him, placing the point of his lance just there, and in an eye blink the Mountain was falling. He was so huge that he took his horse down with him in a tangle of steel and flesh.\n\nNed heard applause, cheers, whistles, shocked gasps, excited muttering, and over it all the rasping, raucous laughter of the Hound. The Knight of Flowers reined up at the end of the lists. His lance was not even broken. His sapphires winked in the sun as he raised his visor, smiling. The commons went mad for him."
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"value": "In the middle of the field, Ser Gregor Clegane disentangled himself and came boiling to his feet. He wrenched off his helm and slammed it down onto the ground. His face was dark with fury and his hair fell down into his eyes. \"My sword,\" he shouted to his squire, and the boy ran it out to him. By then his stallion was back on its feet as well.\n\nGregor Clegane killed the horse with a single blow of such ferocity that it half severed the animal's neck. Cheers turned to shrieks in a heartbeat. The stallion went to its knees, screaming as it died. By then Gregor was striding down the lists toward Ser Loras Tyrell, his bloody sword clutched in his fist. \"Stop him!\" Ned shouted, but his words were lost in the roar. Everyone else was yelling as well, and Sansa was crying.\n\nIt all happened so fast. The Knight of Flowers was shouting for his own sword as Ser Gregor knocked his squire aside and made a grab for the reins of his horse. The mare scented blood and reared. Loras Tyrell kept his seat, but barely. Ser Gregor swung his sword, a savage two-handed blow that took the boy in the chest and knocked him from the saddle. The courser dashed away in panic as Ser Loras lay stunned in the dirt. But as Gregor lifted his sword for the killing blow, a rasping voice warned, \"Leave him be,\" and a steel-clad hand wrenched him away from the boy.\n\nThe Mountain pivoted in wordless fury, swinging his longsword in a killing arc with all his massive strength behind it, but the Hound caught the blow and turned it, and for what seemed an eternity the two brothers stood hammering at each other as a dazed Loras Tyrell was helped to safety. Thrice Ned saw Ser Gregor aim savage blows at the hound's-head helmet, yet not once did Sandor send a cut at his brother's unprotected face."
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"value": "It was the king's voice that put an end to it... the king's voice and twenty swords. Jon Arryn had told them that a commander needs a good battlefield voice, and Robert had proved the truth of that on the Trident. He used that voice now. \"STOP THIS MADNESS,\" he boomed, \"IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!\"\n\nThe Hound went to one knee. Ser Gregor's blow cut air, and at last he came to his senses. He dropped his sword and glared at Robert, surrounded by his Kingsguard and a dozen other knights and guardsmen. Wordlessly, he turned and strode off, shoving past Barristan Selmy. \"Let him go,\" Robert said, and as quickly as that, it was over.\n\n\"Is the Hound the champion now?\" Sansa asked Ned.\n\n\"No,\" he told her. \"There will be one final joust, between the Hound and the Knight of Flowers.\"\n\nBut Sansa had the right of it after all. A few moments later Ser Loras Tyrell walked back onto the field in a simple linen doublet and said to Sandor Clegane, \"I owe you my life. The day is yours, ser.\"\n\n\"I am no ser,\" the Hound replied, but he took the victory, and the champion's purse, and, for perhaps the first time in his life, the love of the commons. They cheered him as he left the lists to return to his pavilion.\n\nAs Ned walked with Sansa to the archery field, Littlefinger and Lord Renly and some of the others fell in with them. \"Tyrell had to know the mare was in heat,\" Littlefinger was saying. \"I swear the boy planned the whole thing. Gregor has always favored huge, ill-tempered stallions with more spirit than sense.\" The notion seemed to amuse him."
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"value": "It did not amuse Ser Barristan Selmy. \"There is small honor in tricks,\" the old man said stiffly.\n\n\"Small honor and twenty thousand golds.\" Lord Renly smiled.\n\nThat afternoon a boy named Anguy, an unheralded commoner from the Dornish Marches, won the archery competition, outshooting Ser Balon Swann and Jalabhar Xho at a hundred paces after all the other bowmen had been eliminated at the shorter distances. Ned sent Alyn to seek him out and offer him a position with the Hand's guard, but the boy was flush with wine and victory and riches undreamed of, and he refused.\n\nThe melee went on for three hours. Near forty men took part, freeriders and hedge knights and new-made squires in search of a reputation. They fought with blunted weapons in a chaos of mud and blood, small troops fighting together and then turning on each other as alliances formed and fractured, until only one man was left standing. The victor was the red priest, Thoros of Myr, a madman who shaved his head and fought with a flaming sword. He had won melees before; the fire sword frightened the mounts of the other riders, and nothing frightened Thoros. The final tally was three broken limbs, a shattered collarbone, a dozen smashed fingers, two horses that had to be put down, and more cuts, sprains, and bruises than anyone cared to count. Ned was desperately pleased that Robert had not taken part.\n\nThat night at the feast, Eddard Stark was more hopeful than he had been in a great while. Robert was in high good humor, the Lannisters were nowhere to be seen, and even his daughters were behaving. Jory brought Arya down to join them, and Sansa spoke to her sister pleasantly. \"The tournament was magnificent,\" she sighed. \"You should have come. How was your dancing?\""
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"value": "\"I'm sore allover,\" Arya reported happily, proudly displaying a huge purple bruise on her leg.\n\n\"You must be a terrible dancer,\" Sansa said doubtfully.\n\nLater, while Sansa was off listening to a troupe of singers perform the complex round of interwoven ballads called the'Dance of the Dragons,\" Ned inspected the bruise himself. \"I hope Forel is not being too hard on you,\" he said.\n\nArya stood on one leg. She was getting much better at that of late. \"Syrio says that every hurt is a lesson, and every lesson makes you better.\"\n\nNed frowned. The man Syrio Forel had come with an excellent reputation, and his flamboyant Braavosi style was well suited to Arya's slender blade, yet still... a few days ago, she had been wandering around with a swatch of black silk tied over her eyes. Syrio was teaching her to see with her ears and her nose and her skin, she told him. Before that, he had her doing spins and back flips. \"Arya, are you certain you want to persist in this?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"Tomorrow we're going to catch cats.\"\n\n\"Cats.\" Ned sighed. \"Perhaps it was a mistake to hire this Braavosi. If you like, I will ask Jory to takeover your lessons. Or I might have a quiet word with Ser Barristan. He was the finest sword in the Seven Kingdoms in his youth.\"\n\n\"I don't want them,\" Arya said. \"I want Syrio.\"\n\nNed ran his fingers through his hair. Any decent master-at-arms could give Arya the rudiments of slash-and-parry without this nonsense of blindfolds, cartwheels, and hopping about on one leg, but he knew his youngest daughter well enough to know there was no arguing with that stubborn jut of jaw. \"As you wish,\" he said. Surely she would grow tired of this soon. \"Try to be careful.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will,\" she promised solemnly as she hopped smoothly from her right leg to her left.\n\nMuch later, after he had taken the girls back through the city and seen them both safe in bed, Sansa with her dreams and Arya with her bruises, Ned ascended to his own chambers atop the Tower of the Hand. The day had been warm and the room was close and stuffy. Ned went to the window and unfastened the heavy shutters to let in the cool night air. Across the Great Yard, he noticed the flickering glow of candlelight from Littlefinger's windows. The hour was well past midnight. Down by the river, the revels were only now beginning to dwindle and die.\n\nHe took out the dagger and studied it. Littlefinger's blade, won by Tyrion Lannister in a tourney wager, sent to slay Bran in his sleep. Why would the dwarf want Bran dead? Why would anyone want Bran dead?\n\nThe dagger, Bran's fall, all of it was linked somehow to the murder of Jon Arryn, he could feel it in his gut, but the truth of Jon's death remained as clouded to him as when he had started. Lord Stannis had not returned to King's Landing for the tourney. Lysa Arryn held her silence behind the high walls of the Eyrie. The squire was dead, and Jory was still searching the whorehouses. What did he have but Robert's bastard?\n\nThat the armorer's sullen apprentice was the king's son, Ned had no doubt. The Baratheon look was stamped on his face, in his jaw, his eyes, that black hair. Renly was too young to have fathered a boy of that age, Stannis too cold and proud in his honor. Gendry had to be Robert's."
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet knowing all that, what had he learned? The king had other baseborn children scattered throughout the Seven Kingdoms. He had openly acknowledged one of his bastards, a boy of Bran's age whose mother was highborn. The lad was being fostered by Lord Renly's castellan at Storm's End.\n\nNed remembered Robert's first child as well, a daughter born in the Vale when Robert was scarcely more than a boy himself. A sweet little girl; the young lord of Storm's End had doted on her. He used to make daily visits to play with the babe, long after he had lost interest in the mother. Ned was often dragged along for company, whether he willed it or not. The girl would be seventeen or eighteen now, he realized; older than Robert had been when he fathered her. A strange thought.\n\nCersei could not have been pleased by her lord husband's by-blows, yet in the end it mattered little whether the king had one bastard or a hundred. Law and custom gave the baseborn few rights. Gendry, the girl in the Vale, the boy at Storm's End, none of them could threaten Robert's trueborn children...\n\nHis musings were ended by a soft rap on his door. \"A man to see you, my lord,\" Harwin called. \"He will not give his name.\"\n\n\"Send him in,\" Ned said, wondering.\n\nThe visitor was a stout man in cracked, mud-caked boots and a heavy brown robe of the coarsest roughspun, his features hidden by a cowl, his hands drawn up into voluminous sleeves.\n\n\"Who are you?\" Ned asked.\n\n\"A friend,\" the cowled man said in a strange, low voice. \"We must speak alone, Lord Stark.\""
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"value": "Curiosity was stronger than caution. \"Harwin, leave us,\" he commanded. Not until they were alone behind closed doors did his visitor drawback his cowl.\n\n\"Lord Varys?\" Ned said in astonishment.\n\n\"Lord Stark,\" Varys said politely, seating himself. \"I wonder if I might trouble you fora drink?\"\n\nNed filled two cups with summerwine and handed one to Varys. \"I might have passed within afoot of you and never recognized you,\" he said, incredulous. He had never seen the eunuch dress in anything but silk and velvet and the richest damasks, and this man smelled of sweat instead of lilacs.\n\n\"That was my dearest hope,\" Varys said. \"It would not do if certain people learned that we had spoken in private. The queen watches you closely. This wine is very choice. Thank you.\"\n\n\"How did you get past my other guards?\" Ned asked. Porther and Cayn had been posted outside the tower, and Alyn on the stairs.\n\n\"The Red Keep has ways known only to ghosts and spiders.\" Varys smiled apologetically. \"I will not keep you long, my lord. There are things you must know. You are the King's Hand, and the king is a fool.\" The eunuch's cloying tones were gone; now his voice was thin and sharp as a whip. \"Your friend, I know, yet a fool nonetheless... and doomed, unless you save him. Today was a near thing. They had hoped to kill him during the melee.\"\n\nFora moment Ned was speechless with shock. \"Who?\"\n\nVarys sipped his wine. \"If I truly need to tell you that, you area bigger fool than Robert and I am on the wrong side.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"The Lannisters,\" Ned said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The queen... no, I will not believe that, not even of Cersei. She asked him not to fight!\"\n\n\"She forbade him to fight, in front of his brother, his knights, and half the court. Tell me truly, do you know any surer way to force King Robert into the melee? I ask you.\"\n\nNed had a sick feeling in his gut. The eunuch had hit upon a truth; tell Robert Baratheon he could not, should not, or must not do a thing, and it was as good as done. \"Even if he'd fought, who would have dared to strike the king?\"\n\nVarys shrugged. \"There were forty riders in the melee. The Lannisters have many friends. Amidst all that chaos, with horses screaming and bones breaking and Thoros of Myr waving that absurd firesword of his, who could name it murder if some chance blow felled His Grace?\" He went to the flagon and refilled his cup. \"After the deed was done, the slayer would be beside himself with grief. I can almost hear him weeping. So sad. Yet no doubt the gracious and compassionate widow would take pity, lift the poor unfortunate to his feet, and bless him with a gentle kiss of forgiveness. Good King Joffrey would have no choice but to pardon him.\" The eunuch stroked his cheek. \"Or perhaps Cersei would let Ser Ilyn strike off his head. Less risk for the Lannisters that way, though quite an unpleasant surprise for their little friend.\"\n\nNed felt his anger rise. \"You knew of this plot, and yet you did nothing.\"\n\n\"I command whisperers, not warriors.\"\n\n\"You might have come tome earlier.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I confess it. And you would have rushed straight to the king, yes? And when Robert heard of his peril, what would he have done? I wonder.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned considered that. \"He would have damned them all, and fought anyway, to show he did not fear them.\"\n\nVarys spread his hands. \"I will make another confession, Lord Eddard. I was curious to see what you would do. Why not come tome? you ask, and I must answer, Why, because I did not trust you, my lord.\"\n\n\"You did not trust me?\" Ned was frankly astonished.\n\n\"The Red Keep shelters two sorts of people, Lord Eddard,\" Varys said. \"Those who are loyal to the realm, and those who are loyal only to themselves. Until this morning, I could not say which you might be... so I waited to see... and now I know, fora certainty.\" He smiled a plump tight little smile, and fora moment his private face and public mask were one. \"I begin to comprehend why the queen fears you so much. Oh, yes I do.\"\n\n\"You are the one she ought to fear,\" Ned said.\n\n\"No. I am what I am. The king makes use of me, but it shames him. A most puissant warrior is our Robert, and such a manly man has little love for sneaks and spies and eunuchs. If a day should come when Cersei whispers, \"Kill that man,\" Ilyn Payne will snick my head off in a twinkling, and who will mourn poor Varys then? North or south, they sing no songs for spiders.\" He reached out and touched Ned with a soft hand. \"But you, Lord Stark... I think... no, I know... he would not kill you, not even for his queen, and there may lie our salvation.\"\n\nIt was all too much. Fora moment Eddard Stark wanted nothing so much as to return to Winterfell, to the clean simplicity of the north, where the enemies were winter and the wildlings beyond the Wall. \"Surely Robert has other loyal friends,\" he protested. \"His brothers, his-\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"-wife?\" Varys finished, with a smile that cut. \"His brothers hate the Lannisters, true enough, but hating the queen and loving the king are not quite the same thing, are they? Ser Barristan loves his honor, Grand Maester Pycelle loves his office, and Littlefinger loves Littlefinger.\"\n\n\"The Kingsguard-\"\n\n\"A paper shield,\" the eunuch said. \"Try not to look so shocked, Lord Stark. Jaime Lannister is himself a Sworn Brother of the White Swords, and we all know what his oath is worth. The days when men like Ryam Redwyne and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight wore the white cloak are gone to dust and song. Of these seven, only Ser Barristan Selmy is made of the true steel, and Selmy is old. Ser Boros and Ser Meryn are the queen's creatures to the bone, and I have deep suspicions of the others. No, my lord, when the swords come out in earnest, you will be the only true friend Robert Baratheon will have.\"\n\n\"Robert must be told,\" Ned said. \"If what you say is true, if even apart of it is true, the king must hear it for himself.\"\n\n\"And what proof shall we lay before him? My words against theirs? My little birds against the queen and the Kingslayer, against his brothers and his council, against the Wardens of East and West, against all the might of Casterly Rock? Pray, send for Ser Ilyn directly, it will save us all sometime. I know where that road ends.\"\n\n\"Yet if what you say is true, they will only bide their time and make another attempt.\"\n\n\"Indeed they will,\" said Varys, \"and sooner rather than later, I do fear. You are making them most anxious, Lord Eddard. But my little birds will be listening, and together we maybe able to forestall them, you and I.\" He rose and pulled up his cowl so his face was hidden once more. \"Thank you for the wine. We will speak again. When you see me next at council, be certain to treat me with your accustomed contempt. You should not find it difficult.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He was at the door when Ned called, \"Varys,\" The eunuch turned back."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How did Jon Arryn die?\"\n\n\"I wondered when you would get around to that.\"\n\n\"Tell me.\"\n\n\"The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, clear and sweet as water, and it leaves no trace. I begged Lord Arryn to use a taster, in this very room I begged him, but he would not hear of it. Only one who was less than a man would even think of such a thing, he told me.\"\n\nNed had to know the rest. \"Who gave him the poison?\"\n\n\"Some dear sweet friend who often shared meat and mead with him, no doubt. Oh, but which one? There were many such. Lord Arryn was a kindly, trusting man.\" The eunuch sighed. \"There was one boy. All he was, he owed Jon Arryn, but when the widow fled to the Eyrie with her household, he stayed in King's Landing and prospered. It always gladdens my heart to seethe young rise in the world.\" The whip was in his voice again, every word a stroke. \"He must have cut a gallant figure in the tourney, him in his bright new armor, with those crescent moons on his cloak. A pity he died so untimely, before you could talk to him...\"\n\nNed felt half-poisoned himself. \"The squire,\" he said. \"Ser Hugh.\" Wheels within wheels within wheels. Ned's head was pounding. \"Why? Why now? Jon Arryn had been Hand for fourteen years. What was he doing that they had to kill him?\"\n\n\"Asking questions,\" Varys said, slipping out the door."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ashe stood in the predawn chill watching Chiggen butcher his horse, Tyrion Lannister chalked up one more debt owed the Starks. Steam rose from inside the carcass when the squat sellsword opened the belly with his skinning knife. His hands moved deftly, with never a wasted cut; the work had to be done quickly, before the stink of blood brought shadowcats down from the heights.\n\n\"None of us will go hungry tonight,\" Bronn said. He was near a shadow himself; bone thin and bone hard, with black eyes and black hair and a stubble of beard.\n\n\"Some of us may,\" Tyrion told him. \"I am not fond of eating horse. Particularly my horse.\"\n\n\"Meat is meat,\" Bronn said with a shrug. \"The Dothraki like horse more than beef or pork.\"\n\n\"Do you take me fora Dothraki?\" Tyrion asked sourly. The Dothraki ate horse, in truth; they also left deformed children out for the feral dogs who ran behind their khalasars. Dothraki customs had scant appeal for him.\n\nChiggen sliced a thin strip of bloody meat off the carcass and held it up for inspection. \"Want a taste, dwarf?\"\n\n\"My brother Jaime gave me that mare for my twenty-third name day,\" Tyrion said in a flat voice.\n\n\"Thank him for us, then. If you ever see him again.\" Chiggen grinned, showing yellow teeth, and swallowed the raw meat in two bites. \"Tastes well bred.\"\n\n\"Better if you fry it up with onions,\" Bronn put in.\n\nWordlessly, Tyrion limped away. The cold had settled deep in his bones, and his legs were so sore he could scarcely walk. Perhaps his dead mare was the lucky one. He had hours more riding ahead of him, followed by a few mouthfuls of food and a short, cold sleep on hard ground, and then another night of the same, and another, and another, and the gods only knew how it would end. \"Damn her,\" he muttered as he struggled up the road to rejoin his captors, remembering, \"damn her and all the Starks.\""
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"value": "The memory was still bitter. One moment he'd been ordering supper, and an eye blink later he was facing a room of armed men, with Jyck reaching fora sword and the fat innkeep shrieking, \"No swords, not here, please, m'lords.\"\n\nTyrion wrenched down Jyck's arm hurriedly, before he got them both hacked to pieces. \"Where are your courtesies, Jyck? Our good hostess said no swords. Do as she asks.\" He forced a smile that must have looked as queasy as it felt. \"You're making a sad mistake, Lady Stark. I had no part in any attack on your son. On my honor-\"\n\n\"Lannister honor,\" was all she said. She held up her hands for all the room to see. \"His dagger left these scars. The blade he sent to open my son's throat.\"\n\nTyrion felt the anger all around him, thick and smoky, fed by the deep cuts in the Stark woman's hands. \"Kill him,\" hissed some drunken slattern from the back, and other voices took up the call, faster than he would have believed. Strangers all, friendly enough only a moment ago, and yet now they cried for his blood like hounds on a trail.\n\nTyrion spoke up loudly, trying to keep the quaver from his voice. \"If Lady Stark believes I have some crime to answer for, I will go with her and answer for it.\"\n\nIt was the only possible course. Trying to cut their way out of this was a sure invitation to an early grave. A good dozen swords had responded to the Stark woman's plea for help: the Harrenhal man, the three Brackens, a pair of unsavory sellswords who looked as though they'd kill him as soon as spit, and some fool field hands who doubtless had no idea what they were doing. Against that, what did Tyrion have? A dagger at his belt, and two men. Jyck swung a fair enough sword, but Morrec scarcely counted; he was part groom, part cook, part body servant, and no soldier. As for Yoren, whatever his feelings might have been, the black brothers were sworn to take no part in the quarrels of the realm. Yoren would do nothing."
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"value": "And indeed, the black brother stepped aside silently when the old knight by Catelyn Stark's side said, \"Take their weapons,\" and the sellsword Bronn stepped forward to pull the sword from Jyck's fingers and relieve them all of their daggers. \"Good,\" the old man said as the tension in the common room ebbed palpably, \"excellent.\" Tyrion recognized the gruff voice; Winterfell's master-at-arms, shorn of his whiskers.\n\nScarlet-tinged spittle flew from the fat innkeep's mouth as she begged of Catelyn Stark, \"Don't kill him here!\"\n\n\"Don't kill him anywhere,\" Tyrion urged.\n\n\"Take him somewheres else, no blood here, m'lady, I wants no high lordlin's quarrels.\"\n\n\"We are taking him back to Winterfell,\" she said, and Tyrion thought, Well, perhaps... By then he'd had a moment to glance over the room and get a better idea of the situation. He was not altogether displeased by what he saw. Oh, the Stark woman had been clever, no doubt of it. Force them to make a public affirmation of the oaths sworn her father by the lords they served, and then call on them for succor, and her a woman, yes, that was sweet. Yet her success was not as complete as she might have liked. There were close to fifty in the common room by his rough count. Catelyn Stark's plea had roused a bare dozen; the others looked confused, or frightened, or sullen. Only two of the Freys had stirred, Tyrion noted, and they'd sat back down quick enough when their captain failed to move. He might have smiled if he'd dared.\n\n\"Winterfell it is, then,\" he said instead. That was along ride, as he could well attest, having just ridden it the other way. So many things could happen along the way. \"My father will wonder what has become of me,\" he added, catching the eye of the swordsman who'd offered to yield up his room. \"He'll pay a handsome reward to any man who brings him word of what happened here today.\" Lord Tywin would do no such thing, of course, but Tyrion would makeup for it if he won free."
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"value": "Ser Rodrik glanced at his lady, his look worried, as well it might be. \"His men come with him,\" the old knight announced. \"And we'll thank the rest of you to stay quiet about what you've seen here.\"\n\nIt was all Tyrion could do not to laugh. Quiet? The old fool. Unless he took the whole inn, the word would begin to spread the instant they were gone. The freerider with the gold coin in his pocket would fly to Casterly Rock like an arrow. If not him, then someone else. Yoren would carry the story south. That fool singer might make a lay of it. The Freys would report back to their lord, and the gods only knew what he might do. Lord Walder Frey might be sworn to Riverrun, but he was a cautious man who had lived along time by making certain he was always on the winning side. At the very least he would send his birds winging south to King's Landing, and he might well dare more than that.\n\nCatelyn Stark wasted no time. \"We must ride at once. We'll want fresh mounts, and provisions for the road. You men, know that you have the eternal gratitude of House Stark. If any of you choose to help us guard our captives and get them safe to Winterfell, I promise you shall be well rewarded.\" That was all it took; the fools came rushing forward. Tyrion studied their faces; they would indeed be well rewarded, he vowed to himself, but perhaps not quite as they imagined.\n\nYet even as they were bundling him outside, saddling the horses in the rain, and tying his hands with a length of coarse rope, Tyrion Lannister was not truly afraid. They would never get him to Winterfell, he would have given odds on that. Riders would be after them within the day, birds would take wing, and surely one of the river lords would want to curry favor with his father enough to take a hand. Tyrion was congratulating himself on his subtlety when someone pulled a hood down over his eyes and lifted him up onto a saddle."
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"value": "They set out through the rain at a hard gallop, and before long Tyrion's thighs were cramped and aching and his butt throbbed with pain. Even when they were safely away from the inn, and Catelyn Stark slowed them to a trot, it was a miserable pounding journey over rough ground, made worse by his blindness. Every twist and turn put him in danger of falling off his horse. The hood muffled sound, so he could not make out what was being said around him, and the rain soaked through the cloth and made it cling to his face, until even breathing was a struggle. The rope chafed his wrists raw and seemed to grow tighter as the night wore on. I was about to settle down to a warm fire and a roast fowl, and that wretched singer had to open his mouth, he thought mournfully. The wretched singer had come along with them. \"There is a great song to be made from this, and I'm the one to make it,\" he told Catelyn Stark when he announced his intention of riding with them to see how the'splendid adventure\" turned out. Tyrion wondered whether the boy would think the adventure quite so splendid once the Lannister riders caught up with them.\n\nThe rain had finally stopped and dawn light was seeping through the wet cloth over his eyes when Catelyn Stark gave the command to dismount. Rough hands pulled him down from his horse, untied his wrists, and yanked the hood off his head. When he saw the narrow stony road, the foothills rising high and wild all around them, and the jagged snowcapped peaks on the distant horizon, all the hope went out of him in a rush. \"This is the highroad,\" he gasped, looking at Lady Stark with accusation. \"The eastern road. You said we were riding for Winterfell!\""
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"value": "Catelyn Stark favored him with the faintest of smiles. \"Often and loudly,\" she agreed. \"No doubt your friends will ride that way when they come after us. I wish them good speed.\"\n\nEven now, long days later, the memory filled him with a bitter rage. All his life Tyrion had prided himself on his cunning, the only gift the gods had seen fit to give him, and yet this seven-times-damned she-wolf Catelyn Stark had outwitted him at every turn. The knowledge was more galling than the bare fact of his abduction.\n\nThey stopped only as long as it took to feed and water the horses, and then they were off again. This time Tyrion was spared the hood. After the second night they no longer bound his hands, and once they had gained the heights they scarcely bothered to guard him at all. It seemed they did not fear his escape. And why should they? Up here the land was harsh and wild, and the highroad little more than a stony track. If he did run, how far could he hope to go, alone and without provisions? The shadowcats would make a morsel of him, and the clans that dwelt in the mountain fastnesses were brigands and murderers who bowed to no law but the sword.\n\nYet still the Stark woman drove them forward relentlessly. He knew where they were bound. He had known it since the moment they pulled off his hood. These mountains were the domain of House Arryn, and the late Hand's widow was a Tully, Catelyn Stark's sister... and no friend to the Lannisters. Tyrion had known the Lady Lysa slightly during her years at King's Landing, and did not look forward to renewing the acquaintance.\n\nHis captors were clustered around a stream a short ways down the highroad. The horses had drunk their fill of the icy cold water, and were grazing on clumps of brown grass that grew from clefts in the rock. Jyck and Morrec huddled close, sullen and miserable. Mohor stood over them, leaning on his spear and wearing a rounded iron cap that made him look as if he had a bowl on his head. Nearby, Marillion the singer sat oiling his woodharp, complaining of what the damp was doing to his strings."
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"value": "\"We must have some rest, my lady,\" the hedge knight Ser Willis Wode was saying to Catelyn Stark as Tyrion approached. He was Lady Whent's man, stiff-necked and stolid, and the first to rise to aid Catelyn Stark back at the inn.\n\n\"Ser Willis speaks truly, my lady,\" Ser Rodrik said. \"This is the third horse we have lost-\"\n\n\"We will lose more than horses if we're overtaken by the Lannisters,\" she reminded them. Her face was windburnt and gaunt, but it had lost none of its determination.\n\n\"Small chance of that here,\" Tyrion put in.\n\n\"The lady did not ask your views, dwarf,\" snapped Kurleket, a great fat oaf with short-cropped hair and a pig's face. He was one of the Brackens, a man-at-arms in the service of Lord Jonos. Tyrion had made a special effort to learn all their names, so he might thank them later for their tender treatment of him. A Lannister always paid his debts. Kurleket would learn that someday, as would his friends Lharys and Mohor, and the good Ser Willis, and the sellswords Bronn and Chiggen. He planned an especially sharp lesson for Marillion, him of the woodharp and the sweet tenor voice, who was struggling so manfully to rhyme imp with gimp and limp so he could make a song of this outrage.\n\n\"Let him speak,\" Lady Stark commanded.\n\nTyrion Lannister seated himself on a rock. \"By now our pursuit is likely racing across the Neck, chasing your lie up the kingsroad... assuming there is a pursuit, which is by no means certain. Oh, no doubt the word has reached my father... but my father does not love me overmuch, and I am not at all sure that he will bother to bestir himself.\" It was only half a lie; Lord Tywin Lannister cared not a fig for his deformed son, but he tolerated no slights on the honor of his House. \"This is a cruel land, Lady Stark. You'll find no succor until you reach the Vale, and each mount you lose burdens the others all the more. Worse, you risk losing me. I am small, and not strong, and if I die, then what's the point?\" That was no lie at all; Tyrion did not know how much longer he could endure this pace."
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"value": "\"It might be said that your death is the point, Lannister,\" Catelyn Stark replied.\n\n\"I think not,\" Tyrion said. \"If you wanted me dead, you had only to say the word, and one of these staunch friends of yours would gladly have given me a red smile.\" He looked at Kurleket, but the man was too dim to taste the mockery.\n\n\"The Starks do not murder men in their beds.\"\n\n\"Nor do I,\" he said. \"I tell you again, I had no part in the attempt to kill your son.\"\n\n\"The assassin was armed with your dagger.\"\n\nTyrion felt the heat rise in him. \"It was not my dagger,\" he insisted. \"How many times must I swear to that? Lady Stark, whatever you may believe of me, I am not a stupid man. Only a fool would arm a common footpad with his own blade.\"\n\nJust fora moment, he thought he saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes, but what she said was, \"Why would Petyr lie tome?\"\n\n\"Why does a bear shit in the woods?\" he demanded. \"Because it is his nature. Lying comes as easily as breathing to a manlike Littlefinger. You ought to know that, you of all people.\"\n\nShe took a step toward him, her face tight. \"And what does that mean, Lannister?\"\n\nTyrion cocked his head. \"Why, every man at court has heard him tell how he took your maidenhead, my lady.\"\n\n\"That is a lie!\" Catelyn Stark said.\n\n\"Oh, wicked little imp,\" Marillion said, shocked.\n\nKurleket drew his dirk, a vicious piece of black iron. \"At your word, m'lady, I'll toss his lying tongue at your feet.\" His pig eyes were wet with excitement at the prospect."
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"value": "Catelyn Stark stared at Tyrion with a coldness on her face such as he had never seen. \"Petyr Baelish loved me once. He was only a boy. His passion was a tragedy for all of us, but it was real, and pure, and nothing to be made mock of. He wanted my hand. That is the truth of the matter. You are truly an evil man, Lannister.\"\n\n\"And you are truly a fool, Lady Stark. Littlefinger has never loved anyone but Littlefinger, and I promise you that it is not your hand that he boasts of, it's those ripe breasts of yours, and that sweet mouth, and the heat between your legs.\"\n\nKurleket grabbed a handful of hair and yanked his head back in a hard jerk, baring his throat. Tyrion felt the cold kiss of steel beneath his chin. \"Shall I bleed him, my lady?\"\n\n\"Kill me and the truth dies with me,\" Tyrion gasped.\n\n\"Let him talk,\" Catelyn Stark commanded.\n\nKurleket let goof Tyrion's hair, reluctantly.\n\nTyrion took a deep breath. \"How did Littlefinger tell you I came by this dagger of his? Answer me that.\"\n\n\"You won it from him in a wager, during the tourney on Prince Joffrey's name day.\"\n\n\"When my brother Jaime was unhorsed by the Knight of Flowers, that was his story, no?\"\n\n\"It was,\" she admitted. Aline creased her brow.\n\n\"Riders!\"\n\nThe shriek came from the wind-carved ridge above them. Ser Rodrik had sent Lharys scrambling up the rock face to watch the road while they took their rest."
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"value": "Fora long second, no one moved. Catelyn Stark was the first to react. \"Ser Rodrik, Ser Willis, to horse,\" she shouted. \"Get the other mounts behind us. Mohor, guard the prisoners-\"\n\n\"Arm us!\" Tyrion sprang to his feet and seized her by the arm. \"You will need every sword.\"\n\nShe knew he was right, Tyrion could see it. The mountain clans cared nothing for the enmities of the great houses; they would slaughter Stark and Lannister with equal fervor, as they slaughtered each other. They might spare Catelyn herself; she was still young enough to bear sons. Still, she hesitated.\n\n\"I hear them!\" Ser Rodrik called out. Tyrion turned his head to listen, and there it was: hoofbeats, a dozen horses or more, coming nearer. Suddenly everyone was moving, reaching for weapons, running to their mounts.\n\nPebbles rained down around them as Lharys came springing and sliding down the ridge. He landed breathless in front of Catelyn Stark, an ungainly-looking man with wild tufts of rust-colored hair sticking out from under a conical steel cap. \"Twenty men, maybe twenty-five,\" he said, breathless. \"Milk Snakes or Moon Brothers, by my guess. They must have eyes out, m'lady... hidden watchers... they know we're here.\"\n\nSer Rodrik Cassel was already ahorse, a longsword in hand. Mohor crouched behind a boulder, both hands on his iron-tipped spear, a dagger between his teeth. \"You, singer,\" Ser Willis Wode called out. \"Help me with this breastplate.\" Marillion sat frozen, clutching his woodharp, his face as pale as milk, but Tyrion's man Morrec bounded quickly to his feet and moved to help the knight with his armor."
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"value": "Tyrion kept his grip on Catelyn Stark. \"You have no choice,\" he told her. \"Three of us, and a fourth man wasted guarding us... four men can be the difference between life and death up here.\"\n\n\"Give me your word that you will put down your swords again after the fight is done.\"\n\n\"My word?\" The hoofbeats were louder now. Tyrion grinned crookedly. \"Oh, that you have, my lady... on my honor as a Lannister.\"\n\nFora moment he thought she would spit at him, but instead she snapped, \"Arm them,\" and as quick as that she was pulling away. Ser Rodrik tossed Jyck his sword and scabbard, and wheeled to meet the foe. Morrec helped himself to a bow and quiver, and went to one knee beside the road. He was a better archer than swordsman. And Bronn rode up to offer Tyrion a double-bladed axe.\n\n\"I have never fought with an axe.\" The weapon felt awkward and unfamiliar in his hands. It had a short haft, a heavy head, a nasty spike on top.\n\n\"Pretend you're splitting logs,\" Bronn said, drawing his longsword from the scabbard across his back. He spat, and trotted off to form up beside Chiggen and Ser Rodrik. Ser Willis mounted up to join them, fumbling with his helmet, a metal pot with a thin slit for his eyes and along black silk plume.\n\n\"Logs don't bleed,\" Tyrion said to no one in particular. He felt naked without armor. He looked around fora rock and ran over to where Marillion was hiding. \"Move over.\"\n\n\"Go away!\" the boy screamed back at him. \"I'm a singer, I want no part of this fight!\""
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"value": "\"What, lost your taste for adventure?\" Tyrion kicked at the youth until he slid over, and not a moment too soon. A heartbeat later, the riders were on them.\n\nThere were no heralds, no banners, no horns nor drums, only the twang of bowstrings as Morrec and Lharys let fly, and suddenly the clansmen came thundering out of the dawn, lean dark men in boiled leather and mismatched armor, faces hidden behind barred half helms. In gloved hands were clutched all manner of weapons: longswords and lances and sharpened scythes, spiked clubs and daggers and heavy iron mauls. At their head rode a big man in a striped shadowskin cloak, armed with a two-handed greatsword.\n\nSer Rodrik shouted'Winterfell!\" and rode to meet him, with Bronn and Chiggen beside him, screaming some wordless battle cry. Ser Willis Wode followed, swinging a spiked morningstar around his head. \"Harrenhal! Harrenhal!\" he sang. Tyrion felt a sudden urge to leap up, brandish his axe, and boom out, \"Casterly Rock!\" but the insanity passed quickly and he crouched down lower.\n\nHe heard the screams of frightened horses and the crash of metal on metal. Chiggen's sword raked across the naked face of a mailed rider, and Bronn plunged through the clansmen like a whirlwind, cutting down foes right and left. Ser Rodrik hammered at the big man in the shadowskin cloak, their horses dancing round each other as they traded blow for blow. Jyck vaulted onto a horse and galloped bareback into the fray. Tyrion saw an arrow sprout from the throat of the man in the shadowskin cloak. When he opened his mouth to scream, only blood came out. By the time he fell, Ser Rodrik was fighting someone else."
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"value": "Suddenly Marillion shrieked, covering his head with his woodharp as a horse leapt over their rock. Tyrion scrambled to his feet as the rider turned to comeback at them, hefting a spiked maul. Tyrion swung his axe with both hands. The blade caught the charging horse in the throat with a meaty thunk, angling upward, and Tyrion almost lost his grip as the animal screamed and collapsed. He managed to wrench the axe free and lurch clumsily out of the way. Marillion was less fortunate. Horse and rider crashed to the ground in a tangle on top of the singer. Tyrion danced back in while the brigand's leg was still pinned beneath his fallen mount, and buried the axe in the man's neck, just above the shoulder blades.\n\nAshe struggled to yank the blade loose, he heard Marillion moaning under the bodies. \"Someone help me,\" the singer gasped. \"Gods have mercy, I'm bleeding.\"\n\n\"I believe that's horse blood,\" Tyrion said. The singer's hand came crawling out from beneath the dead animal, scrabbling in the dirt like a spider with five legs. Tyrion put his heel on the grasping fingers and felt a satisfying crunch. \"Close your eyes and pretend you're dead,\" he advised the singer before he hefted the axe and turned away.\n\nAfter that, things ran together. The dawn was full of shouts and screams and heavy with the scent of blood, and the world had turned to chaos. Arrows hissed past his ear and clattered off the rocks. He saw Bronn unhorsed, fighting with a sword in each hand. Tyrion kept on the fringes of the fight, sliding from rock to rock and darting out of the shadows to hew at the legs of passing horses. He found a wounded clansman and left him dead, helping himself to the man's halfhelm. It fit too snugly, but Tyrion was glad of any protection at all. Jyck was cut down from behind while he sliced at a man in front of him, and later Tyrion stumbled over Kurleket's body. The pig face had been smashed in with a mace, but Tyrion recognized the dirk as he plucked it from the man's dead fingers. He was sliding it through his belt when he heard a woman's scream."
}
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[
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"value": "Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 34"
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"value": "Suddenly Marillion shrieked, covering his head with his woodharp as a horse leapt over their rock. Tyrion scrambled to his feet as the rider turned to comeback at them, hefting a spiked maul. Tyrion swung his axe with both hands. The blade caught the charging horse in the throat with a meaty thunk, angling upward, and Tyrion almost lost his grip as the animal screamed and collapsed. He managed to wrench the axe free and lurch clumsily out of the way. Marillion was less fortunate. Horse and rider crashed to the ground in a tangle on top of the singer. Tyrion danced back in while the brigand's leg was still pinned beneath his fallen mount, and buried the axe in the man's neck, just above the shoulder blades.\n\nAshe struggled to yank the blade loose, he heard Marillion moaning under the bodies. \"Someone help me,\" the singer gasped. \"Gods have mercy, I'm bleeding.\"\n\n\"I believe that's horse blood,\" Tyrion said. The singer's hand came crawling out from beneath the dead animal, scrabbling in the dirt like a spider with five legs. Tyrion put his heel on the grasping fingers and felt a satisfying crunch. \"Close your eyes and pretend you're dead,\" he advised the singer before he hefted the axe and turned away.\n\nAfter that, things ran together. The dawn was full of shouts and screams and heavy with the scent of blood, and the world had turned to chaos. Arrows hissed past his ear and clattered off the rocks. He saw Bronn unhorsed, fighting with a sword in each hand. Tyrion kept on the fringes of the fight, sliding from rock to rock and darting out of the shadows to hew at the legs of passing horses. He found a wounded clansman and left him dead, helping himself to the man's halfhelm. It fit too snugly, but Tyrion was glad of any protection at all. Jyck was cut down from behind while he sliced at a man in front of him, and later Tyrion stumbled over Kurleket's body. The pig face had been smashed in with a mace, but Tyrion recognized the dirk as he plucked it from the man's dead fingers. He was sliding it through his belt when he heard a woman's scream."
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"value": "Catelyn Stark was trapped against the stone face of the mountain with three men around her, one still mounted and the other two on foot. She had a dagger clutched awkwardly in her maimed hands, but her back was to the rock now and they had penned heron three sides. Let them have the bitch, Tyrion thought, and welcome to her, yet somehow he was moving. He caught the first man in the back of the knee before they even knew he was there, and the heavy axehead split flesh and bone like rotten wood. Logs that bleed, Tyrion thought inanely as the second man came for him. Tyrion ducked under his sword, lashed outwith the axe, the man reeled backward... and Catelyn Stark stepped up behind him and opened his throat. The horseman remembered an urgent engagement elsewhere and galloped off suddenly.\n\nTyrion looked around. The enemy were all vanquished or vanished. Somehow the fighting had ended when he wasn't looking. Dying horses and wounded men lay all around, screaming or moaning. To his vast astonishment, he was not one of them. He opened his fingers and let the axe thunk to the ground. His hands were sticky with blood. He could have sworn they had been fighting for half a day, but the sun seemed scarcely to have moved at all.\n\n\"Your first battle?\" Bronn asked later as he bent over Jyck's body, pulling off his boots. They were good boots, as befit one of Lord Tywin's men; heavy leather, oiled and supple, much finer than what Bronn was wearing.\n\nTyrion nodded. \"My father will be so proud,\" he said. His legs were cramping so badly he could scarcely stand. Odd, he had never once noticed the pain during the battle."
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"value": "\"You need a woman now,\" Bronn said with a glint in his black eyes. He shoved the boots into his saddlebag. \"Nothing like a woman after a man's been blooded, take my word.\"\n\nChiggen stopped looting the corpses of the brigands long enough to snort and lick his lips.\n\nTyrion glanced over to where Lady Stark was dressing Ser Rodrik's wounds. \"I'm willing if she is,\" he said. The freeriders broke into laughter, and Tyrion grinned and thought, There's a start.\n\nAfterward he knelt by the stream and washed the blood off his face in water cold as ice. Ashe limped back to the others, he glanced again at the slain. The dead clansmen were thin, ragged men, their horses scrawny and undersized, with every rib showing. What weapons Bronn and Chiggen had left them were none too impressive. Mauls, clubs, a scythe... He remembered the big man in the shadowskin cloak who had dueled Ser Rodrik with a two-handed greatsword, but when he found his corpse sprawled on the stony ground, the man was not so big after all, the cloak was gone, and Tyrion saw that the blade was badly notched, its cheap steel spotted with rust. Small wonder the clansmen had left nine bodies on the ground.\n\nThey had only three dead; two of Lord Bracken's men-at-arms, Kurleket and Mohor, and his own man Jyck, who had made such a bold show with his bareback charge. A fool to the end, Tyrion thought.\n\n\"Lady Stark, I urge you to press on, with all haste,\" Ser Willis Wode said, his eyes scanning the ridgetops warily through the slit in his helm. \"We drove them off for the moment, but they will not have gone far.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We must bury our dead, Ser Willis,\" she said. \"These were brave men. I will not leave them to the crows and shadowcats.\"\n\n\"This soil is too stony for digging,\" Ser Willis said.\n\n\"Then we shall gather stones for cairns.\"\n\n\"Gather all the stones you want,\" Bronn told her, \"but do it without me or Chiggen. I've better things to do than pile rocks on dead men... breathing, for one.\" He looked over the rest of the survivors. \"Any of you who hope to be alive come nightfall, ride with us.\"\n\n\"My lady, I fear he speaks the truth,\" Ser Rodrik said wearily. The old knight had been wounded in the fight, a deep gash in his left arm and a spear thrust that grazed his neck, and he sounded his age. \"If we linger here, they will be onus again fora certainty, and we may not live through a second attack.\"\n\nTyrion could seethe anger in Catelyn's face, but she had no choice. \"May the gods forgive us, then. We will ride at once.\"\n\nThere was no shortage of horses now. Tyrion moved his saddle to Jyck's spotted gelding, who looked strong enough to last another three or four days at least. He was about to mount when Lharys stepped up and said, \"I'll take that dirk now, dwarf.\"\n\n\"Let him keep it.\" Catelyn Stark looked down from her horse. \"And see that he has his axe back as well. We may have need of it if we are attacked again.\"\n\n\"You have my thanks, lady,\" Tyrion said, mounting up.\n\n\"Save them,\" she said curtly. \"I trust you no more than I did before.\" She was gone before he could frame a reply."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion adjusted his stolen helm and took the axe from Bronn. He remembered how he had begun the journey, with his wrists bound and a hood pulled down over his head, and decided that this was a definite improvement. Lady Stark could keep her trust; so long as he could keep the axe, he would count himself ahead in the game.\n\nSer Willis Wode led them out. Bronn took the rear, with Lady Stark safely in the middle, Ser Rodrik a shadow beside her. Marillion kept throwing sullen looks back at Tyrion as they rode. The singer had broken several ribs, his woodharp, and all four fingers on his playing hand, yet the day had not been an utter loss to him; somewhere he had acquired a magnificent shadowskin cloak, thick black fur slashed by stripes of white. He huddled beneath its folds silently, and for once had nothing to say.\n\nThey heard the deep growls of shadowcats behind them before they had gone half a mile, and later the wild snarling of the beasts fighting over the corpses they had left behind. Marillion grew visibly pale. Tyrion trotted up beside him. \"Craven,\" he said, \"rhymes nicely with raven.\" He kicked his horse and moved past the singer, up to Ser Rodrik and Catelyn Stark.\n\nShe looked at him, lips pressed tightly together.\n\n\"As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted,\" Tyrion began, \"there is a serious flaw in Littlefinger's fable. Whatever you may believe of me, Lady Stark, I promise you this-I never bet against my family.\""
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"value": "The one-eared black tom arched his back and hissed at her.\n\nArya padded down the alley, balanced lightly on the balls of her bare feet, listening to the flutter of her heart, breathing slow deep breaths. Quiet as a shadow, she told herself, light as a feather. The tomcat watched her come, his eyes wary.\n\nCatching cats was hard. Her hands were covered with half-healed scratches, and both knees were scabbed over where she had scraped them raw in tumbles. At first even the cook's huge fat kitchen cat had been able to elude her, but Syrio had kept her at it day and night. When she'd run to him with her hands bleeding, he had said, \"So slow? Be quicker, girl. Your enemies will give you more than scratches.\" He had dabbed her wounds with Myrish fire, which burned so bad she had had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Then he sent her out after more cats.\n\nThe Red Keep was full of cats: lazy old cats dozing in the sun, cold-eyed mousers twitching their tails, quick little kittens with claws like needles, ladies'cats all combed and trusting, ragged shadows prowling the midden heaps. One by one Arya had chased them down and snatched them up and brought them proudly to Syrio Forel... all but this one, this one-eared black devil of a tomcat. \"That's the real king of this castle right there,\" one of the gold cloaks had told her. \"Older than sin and twice as mean. Onetime, the king was feasting the queen's father, and that black bastard hopped upon the table and snatched a roast quail right out of Lord Tywin's fingers. Robert laughed so hard he like to burst. You stay away from that one, child.\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had run her halfway across the castle; twice around the Tower of the Hand, across the inner bailey, through the stables, down the serpentine steps, past the small kitchen and the pig yard and the barracks of the gold cloaks, along the base of the river wall and up more steps and back and forth over Traitor's Walk, and then down again and through agate and around a well and in and out of strange buildings until Arya didn't know where she was.\n\nNow at last she had him. High walls pressed close on either side, and ahead was a blank windowless mass of stone. Quiet as a shadow, she repeated, sliding forward, light as a feather.\n\nWhen she was three steps away from him, the tomcat bolted. Left, then right, he went; and right, then left, went Arya, cutting off his escape. He hissed again and tried to dart between her legs. Quick as a snake, she thought. Her hands closed around him. She hugged him to her chest, whirling and laughing aloud as his claws raked at the front of her leather jerkin. Ever so fast, she kissed him right between the eyes, and jerked her head back an instant before his claws would have found her face. The tomcat yowled and spit.\n\n\"What's he doing to that cat?\"\n\nStartled, Arya dropped the cat and whirled toward the voice. The tom bounded off in the blink of an eye. At the end of the alley stood a girl with amass of golden curls, dressed as pretty as a doll in blue satin. Beside her was a plump little blond boy with a prancing stag sewn in pearls across the front of his doublet and a miniature sword at his belt. Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen, Arya thought. A septa as large as a draft horse hovered over them, and behind her two big men in crimson cloaks, Lannister house guards."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What were you doing to that cat, boy?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Myrcella asked again, sternly. To her brother she said, \"He's a ragged boy, isn't he? Look at him.\" She giggled.\n\n\"A ragged dirty smelly boy,\" Tommen agreed.\n\nThey don't know me, Arya realized. They don't even know I'm a girl. Small wonder; she was barefoot and dirty, her hair tangled from the long run through the castle, clad in a jerkin ripped by cat claws and brown roughspun pants hacked off above her scabby knees. You don't wear skirts and silks when you're catching cats. Quickly she lowered her head and dropped to one knee. Maybe they wouldn't recognize her. If they did, she would never hear the end of it. Septa Mordane would be mortified, and Sansa would never speak to her again from the shame.\n\nThe old fat septa moved forward. \"Boy, how did you come here? You have no business in this part of the castle.\"\n\n\"You can't keep this sort out,\" one of the red cloaks said. \"Like trying to keep out rats.\"\n\n\"Who do you belong to, boy?\" the septa demanded. \"Answer me. What's wrong with you, are you mute?\"\n\nArya's voice caught in her throat. If she answered, Tommen and Myrcella would know her for certain.\n\n\"Godwyn, bring him here,\" the septa said. The taller of the guardsmen started down the alley.\n\nPanic gripped her throat like a giant's hand. Arya could not have spoken if her life had hung on it. Calm as still water, she mouthed silently.\n\nAs Godwyn reached for her, Arya moved. Quick as a snake. She leaned to her left, letting his fingers brush her arm, spinning around him. Smooth as summer silk. By the time he got himself turned, she was sprinting down the alley. Swift as a deer. The septa was screeching at her. Arya slid between legs as thick and white as marble columns, bounded to her feet, bowled into Prince Tommen and hopped over him when he sat down hard and said'Oof,\" spun away from the second guard, and then she was past them all, running full out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She heard shouts, then pounding footsteps, closing behind her. She dropped and rolled. The red cloak went careening past her, stumbling. Arya sprang back to her feet. She saw a window above her, high and narrow, scarcely more than an arrow slit. Arya leapt, caught the sill, pulled herself up. She held her breath as she wriggled through. Slippery as an eel. Dropping to the floor in front of a startled scrubwoman, she hopped up, brushed the rushes off her clothes, and was off again, out the door and along along hall, down a stair, across a hidden courtyard, around a corner and over a wall and through a low narrow window into a pitch-dark cellar. The sounds grew more and more distant behind her.\n\nArya was out of breath and quite thoroughly lost. She was in for it now if they had recognized her, but she didn't think they had. She'd moved too fast. Swift as a deer.\n\nShe hunkered down in the dark against a damp stonewall and listened for the pursuit, but the only sound was the beating of her own heart and a distant drip of water. Quiet as a shadow, she told herself. She wondered where she was. When they had first come to King's Landing, she used to have bad dreams about getting lost in the castle. Father said the Red Keep was smaller than Winterfell, but in her dreams it had been immense, an endless stone maze with walls that seemed to shift and change behind her. She would find herself wandering down gloomy halls past faded tapestries, descending endless circular stairs, darting through courtyards or over bridges, her shouts echoing unanswered. In some of the rooms the red stonewalls would seem to drip blood, and nowhere could she find a window. Sometimes she would hear her father's voice, but always from along way off, and no matter how hard she ran after it, it would grow fainter and fainter, until it faded to nothing and Arya was alone in the dark."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was very dark right now, she realized."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She hugged her bare knees tight against her chest and shivered. She would wait quietly and count to ten thousand. By then it would be safe for her to come creeping back out and find her way home.\n\nBy the time she had reached eighty-seven, the room had begun to lighten as her eyes adjusted to the blackness. Slowly the shapes around her took on form. Huge empty eyes stared at her hungrily through the gloom, and dimly she saw the jagged shadows of long teeth. She had lost the count. She closed her eyes and bit her lip and sent the fear away. When she looked again, the monsters would begone. Would never have been. She pretended that Syrio was beside her in the dark, whispering in her ear. Calm as still water, she told herself. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. She opened her eyes again.\n\nThe monsters were still there, but the fear was gone.\n\nArya got to her feet, moving warily. The heads were all around her. She touched one, curious, wondering if it was real. Her fingertips brushed a massive jaw. It felt real enough. The bone was smooth beneath her hand, cold and hard to the touch. She ran her fingers down a tooth, black and sharp, a dagger made of darkness. It made her shiver.\n\n\"It's dead,\" she said aloud. \"It's just a skull, it can't hurt me.\" Yet somehow the monster seemed to know she was there. She could feel its empty eyes watching her through the gloom, and there was something in that dim, cavernous room that did not love her. She edged away from the skull and backed into a second, larger than the first. For an instant she could feel its teeth digging into her shoulder, as if it wanted a bite of her flesh. Arya whirled, felt leather catch and tear as a huge fang nipped at her jerkin, and then she was running. Another skull loomed ahead, the biggest monster of all, but Arya did not even slow. She leapt over a ridge of black teeth as tall as swords, dashed through hungry jaws, and threw herself against the door."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her hands found a heavy iron ring set in the wood, and she yanked at it. The door resisted a moment, before it slowly began to swing inward, with a creak so loud Arya was certain it could be heard all through the city. She opened the door just far enough to slip through, into the hallway beyond.\n\nIf the room with the monsters had been dark, the hall was the blackest pit in the seven hells. Calm as still water, Arya told herself, but even when she gave her eyes a moment to adjust, there was nothing to see but the vague grey outline of the door she had come through. She wiggled her fingers in front of her face, felt the air move, saw nothing. She was blind. A water dancer sees with all her senses, she reminded herself. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing one two three, drank in the quiet, reached outwith her hands.\n\nHer fingers brushed against rough unfinished stone to her left. She followed the wall, her hand skimming along the surface, taking small gliding steps through the darkness. All halls lead somewhere. Where there is away in, there is away out. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Arya would not be afraid. It seemed as if she had been walking along ways when the wall ended abruptly and a draft of cold air blew past her cheek. Loose hairs stirred faintly against her skin.\n\nFrom somewhere far below her, she heard noises. The scrape of boots, the distant sound of voices. A flickering light brushed the wall ever so faintly, and she saw that she stood at the top of a great black well, a shaft twenty feet across plunging deep into the earth. Huge stones had been set into the curving walls as steps, circling down and down, dark as the steps to hell that Old Nan used to tell them of. And something was coming up out of the darkness, out of the bowels of the earth..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya peered over the edge and felt the cold black breath on her face. Far below, she saw the light of a single torch, small as the flame of a candle. Two men, she made out. Their shadows writhed against the sides of the well, tall as giants. She could hear their voices, echoing up the shaft.\n\n\"... found one bastard,\" one said. \"The rest will come soon. A day, two days, a fortnight...\"\n\n\"And when he learns the truth, what will he do?\" a second voice asked in the liquid accents of the Free Cities.\n\n\"The gods alone know,\" the first voice said. Arya could see a wisp of grey smoke drifting up off the torch, writhing like a snake as it rose. \"The fools tried to kill his son, and what's worse, they made a mummer's farce of it. He's not a man to put that aside. I warn you, the wolf and lion will soon beat each other's throats, whether we will it or no.\"\n\n\"Too soon, too soon,\" the voice with the accent complained. \"What good is war now? We are not ready. Delay.\"\n\n\"As well bid me stop time. Do you take me fora wizard?\"\n\nThe other chuckled. \"No less.\" Flames licked at the cold air. The tall shadows were almost on top of her. An instant later the man holding the torch climbed into her sight, his companion beside him. Arya crept back away from the well, dropped to her stomach, and flattened herself against the wall. She held her breath as the men reached the top of the steps.\n\n\"What would you have me do?\" asked the torchbearer, a stout man in a leather half cape. Even in heavy boots, his feet seemed to glide soundlessly over the ground. Around scarred face and a stubble of dark beard showed under his steel cap, and he wore mail over boiled leather, and a dirk and shortsword at his belt. It seemed to Arya there was something oddly familiar about him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"If one Hand can die, why not a second?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "replied the man with the accent and the forked yellow beard. \"You have danced the dance before, my friend.\" He was no one Arya had ever seen before, she was certain of it. Grossly fat, yet he seemed to walk lightly, carrying his weight on the balls of his feet as a water dancer might. His rings glimmered in the torchlight, red-gold and pale silver, crusted with rubies, sapphires, slitted yellow tiger eyes. Every finger wore a ring; some had two.\n\n\"Before is not now, and this Hand is not the other,\" the scarred man said as they stepped out into the hall. Still as stone, Arya told herself, quiet as a shadow. Blinded by the blaze of their own torch, they did not see her pressed flat against the stone, only a few feet away.\n\n\"Perhaps so,\" the forked beard replied, pausing to catch his breath after the long climb. \"Nonetheless, we must have time. The princess is with child. The khal will not bestir himself until his son is born. You know how they are, these savages.\"\n\nThe man with the torch pushed at something. Arya heard a deep rumbling. A huge slab of rock, red in the torchlight, slid down out of the ceiling with a resounding crash that almost made her cry out. Where the entry to the well had been was nothing but stone, solid and unbroken.\n\n\"If he does not bestir himself soon, it maybe too late,\" the stout man in the steel cap said. \"This is no longer a game for two players, if ever it was. Stannis Baratheon and Lysa Arryn have fled beyond my reach, and the whispers say they are gathering swords around them. The Knight of Flowers writes Highgarden, urging his lord father to send his sister to court. The girl is a maid of fourteen, sweet and beautiful and tractable, and Lord Renly and Ser Loras intend that Robert should bed her, wed her, and make anew queen. Littlefinger... the gods only know what game Littlefinger is playing. Yet Lord Stark's the one who troubles my sleep. He has the bastard, he has the book, and soon enough he'll have the truth. And now his wife has abducted Tyrion Lannister, thanks to Littlefinger's meddling. Lord Tywin will take that for an outrage, and Jaime has a queer affection for the Imp. If the Lannisters move north, that will bring the Tullys in as well. Delay, you say. Make haste, I reply. Even the finest of jugglers cannot keep a hundred balls in the air forever.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are more than a juggler, old friend. You area true sorcerer. All I ask is that you work your magic awhile longer.\" They started down the hall in the direction Arya had come, past the room with the monsters.\n\n\"What I can do, I will,\" the one with the torch said softly. \"I must have gold, and another fifty birds.\"\n\nShe let them get along way ahead, then went creeping after them. Quiet as a shadow.\n\n\"So many?\" The voices were fainter as the light dwindled ahead of her. \"The ones you need are hard to find... so young, to know their letters... perhaps older... not die so easy...\"\n\n\"No. The younger are safer... treat them gently...\"\n\n\"... if they kept their tongues...\"\n\n\"... the risk...\"\n\nLong after their voices had faded away, Arya could still seethe light of the torch, a smoking star that bid her follow. Twice it seemed to disappear, but she kept on straight, and both times she found herself at the top of steep, narrow stairs, the torch glimmering far below her. She hurried after it, down and down. Once she stumbled over a rock and fell against the wall, and her hand found raw earth supported by timbers, whereas before the tunnel had been dressed stone.\n\nShe must have crept after them for miles. Finally they were gone, but there was no place to go but forward. She found the wall again and followed, blind and lost, pretending that Nymeria was padding along beside her in the darkness. At the end she was knee-deep in foul-smelling water, wishing she could dance upon it as Syrio might have, and wondering if she'd ever see light again. It was full dark when finally Arya emerged into the night air."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She found herself standing at the mouth of a sewer where it emptied into the river. She stank so badly that she stripped right there, dropping her soiled clothing on the riverbank as she dove into the deep black waters. She swam until she felt clean, and crawled out shivering. Some riders went past along the river road as Arya was washing her clothes, but if they saw the scrawny naked girl scrubbing her rags in the moonlight, they took no notice.\n\nShe was miles from the castle, but from anywhere in King's Landing you needed only to lookup to seethe Red Keep high on Aegon's Hill, so there was no danger of losing her way. Her clothes were almost dry by the time she reached the gatehouse. The portcullis was down and the gates barred, so she turned aside to a postern door. The gold cloaks who had the watch sneered when she told them to let her in. \"Off with you,\" one said. \"The kitchen scraps are gone, and we'll have no begging after dark.\"\n\n\"I'm not a beggar,\" she said. \"I live here.\"\n\n\"I said, off with you. Do you need a clout on the ear to help your hearing?\"\n\n\"I want to see my father.\"\n\nThe guards exchanged a glance. \"I want to fuck the queen myself, for all the good it does me,\" the younger one said.\n\nThe older scowled. \"Who's this father of yours, boy, the city ratcatcher?\"\n\n\"The Hand of the King,\" Arya told him.\n\nBoth men laughed, but then the older one swung his fist at her, casually, as a man would swat a dog. Arya saw the blow coming even before it began. She danced back out of the way, untouched. \"I'm not a boy,\" she spat at them. \"I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell, and if you lay a hand on me my lord father will have both your heads on spikes. If you don't believe me, fetch Jory Cassel or Vayon Poole from the Tower of the Hand.\" She put her hands on her hips. \"Now are you going to open the gate, or do you need a clout on the ear to help your hearing?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her father was alone in the solar when Harwin and Fat Tom marched her in, an oil lamp glowing softly at his elbow. He was bent over the biggest book Arya had ever seen, a great thick tome with cracked yellow pages of crabbed script, bound between faded leather covers, but he closed it to listen to Harwin's report. His face was stern as he sent the men away with thanks.\n\n\"You realize I had half my guard out searching for you?\" Eddard Stark said when they were alone. \"Septa Mordane is beside herself with fear. She's in the sept praying for your safe return. Arya, you know you are never to go beyond the castle gates without my leave.\"\n\n\"I didn't go out the gates,\" she blurted. \"Well, I didn't mean to. I was down in the dungeons, only they turned into this tunnel. It was all dark, and I didn't have a torch or a candle to see by, so I had to follow. I couldn't go back the way I came on account of the monsters. Father, they were talking about killing you! Not the monsters, the two men. They didn't see me, I was being still as stone and quiet as a shadow, but I heard them. They said you had a book and a bastard and if one Hand could die, why not a second? Is that the book? Jon's the bastard, I bet.\"\n\n\"Jon? Arya, what are you talking about? Who said this?\"\n\n\"They did,\" she told him. \"There was a fat one with rings and a forked yellow beard, and another in mail and a steel cap, and the fat one said they had to delay but the other one told him he couldn't keep juggling and the wolf and the lion were going to eat each other and it was a mummer's farce.\" She tried to remember the rest. She hadn't quite understood everything she'd heard, and now it was all mixed up in her head. \"The fat one said the princess was with child. The one in the steel cap, he had the torch, he said that they had to hurry. I think he was a wizard.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A wizard,\" said Ned, unsmiling. \"Did he have along white beard and tall pointed hat speckled with stars?\"\n\n\"No! It wasn't like Old Nan's stories. He didn't look like a wizard, but the fat one said he was.\"\n\n\"I warn you, Arya, if you're spinning this thread of air-\"\n\n\"No, I told you, it was in the dungeons, by the place with the secret wall. I was chasing cats, and well...\" She screwed up her face. If she admitted knocking over Prince Tommen, he would be really angry with her. \"... well, I went in this window. That's where I found the monsters.\"\n\n\"Monsters and wizards,\" her father said. \"It would seem you've had quite an adventure. These men you heard, you say they spoke of juggling and mummery?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Arya admitted, \"only-\"\n\n\"Arya, they were mummers,\" her father told her. \"There must be a dozen troupes in King's Landing right now, come to make some coin off the tourney crowds. I'm not certain what these two were doing in the castle, but perhaps the king has asked fora show.\"\n\n\"No.\" She shook her head stubbornly. \"They weren't-\"\n\n\"You shouldn't be following people about and spying on them in any case. Nor do I cherish the notion of my daughter climbing in strange windows after stray cats. Look at you, sweetling. Your arms are covered with scratches. This has gone on long enough. Tell Syrio Forel that I want a word with him-\"\n\nHe was interrupted by a short, sudden knock. \"Lord Eddard, pardons,\" Desmond called out, opening the door a crack, \"but there's a black brother here begging audience. He says the matter is urgent. I thought you would want to know.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My door is always open to the Night's Watch,\" Father said.\n\nDesmond ushered the man inside. He was stooped and ugly, with an unkempt beard and unwashed clothes, yet Father greeted him pleasantly and asked his name.\n\n\"Yoren, as it please m'lord. My pardons for the hour.\" He bowed to Arya. \"And this must be your son. He has your look.\"\n\n\"I'm a girl,\" Arya said, exasperated. If the old man was down from the Wall, he must have come byway of Winterfell. \"Do you know my brothers?\" she asked excitedly. \"Robb and Bran are at Winterfell, and Jon's on the Wall. Jon Snow, he's in the Night's Watch too, you must know him, he has a direwolf, a white one with red eyes. Is Jon a ranger yet? I'm Arya Stark.\" The old man in his smelly black clothes was looking at her oddly, but Arya could not seem to stop talking. \"When you ride back to the Wall, would you bring Jon a letter if I wrote one?\" She wished Jon were here right now. He'd believe her about the dungeons and the fat man with the forked beard and the wizard in the steel cap.\n\n\"My daughter often forgets her courtesies,\" Eddard Stark said with a faint smile that softened his words. \"I beg your forgiveness, Yoren. Did my brother Benjen send you?\"\n\n\"No one sent me, m'lord, saving old Mormont. I'm hereto find men for the Wall, and when Robert next holds court, I'll bend the knee and cry our need, see if the king and his Hand have some scum in the dungeons they'd be well rid of. You might say as Benjen Stark is why we're talking, though. His blood ran black. Made him my brother as much as yours. It's for his sake I'm come. Rode hard, I did, near killed my horse the way I drove her, but I left the others well behind.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The others?\"\n\nYoren spat. \"Sellswords and freeriders and like trash. That inn was full o'them, and I saw them take the scent. The scent of blood or the scent of gold, they smell the same in the end. Not all o\" them made for King's Landing, either. Some went galloping for Casterly Rock, and the Rock lies closer. Lord Tywin will have gotten the word by now, you can count on it.\"\n\nFather frowned. \"What word is this?\"\n\nYoren eyed Arya. \"One best spoken in private, m'lord, begging your pardons.\"\n\n\"As you say. Desmond, see my daughter to her chambers.\" He kissed heron the brow. \"We'll finish our talk on the morrow.\"\n\nArya stood rooted to the spot. \"Nothing bad's happened to Jon, has it?\" she asked Yoren. \"Or Uncle Benjen?\"\n\n\"Well, as to Stark, I can't say. The Snow boy was well enough when I left the Wall. It's not them as concerns me.\"\n\nDesmond took her hand. \"Come along, milady. You heard your lord father.\"\n\nArya had no choice but to go with him, wishing it had been Fat Tom. With Tom, she might have been able to linger at the door on some excuse and hear what Yoren was saying, but Desmond was too single-minded to trick. \"How many guards does my father have?\" she asked him as they descended to her bedchamber.\n\n\"Here at King's Landing? Fifty.\"\n\n\"You wouldn't let anyone kill him, would you?\" she asked.\n\nDesmond laughed. \"No fear on that count, little lady. Lord Eddard's guarded night and day. He'll come to no harm.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Lannisters have more than fifty men,\" Arya pointed out.\n\n\"So they do, but every northerner is worth ten of these southron swords, so you can sleep easy.\"\n\n\"What if a wizard was sent to kill him?\"\n\n\"Well, as to that,\" Desmond replied, drawing his longsword, \"wizards die the same as other men, once you cut their heads off.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Robert, I beg of you,\" Ned pleaded, \"hear what you are saying. You are talking of murdering a child.\"\n\n\"The whore is pregnant!\" The king's fist slammed down on the council table loud as a thunderclap. \"I warned you this would happen, Ned. Back in the barrowlands, I warned you, but you did not care to hear it. Well, you'll hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead.\"\n\nThe other councillors were all doing their best to pretend that they were somewhere else. No doubt they were wiser than he was. Eddard Stark had seldom felt quite so alone. \"You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this.\"\n\n\"Then let it be on my head, so long as it is done. I am not so blind that I cannot seethe shadow of the axe when it is hanging over my own neck.\"\n\n\"There is no axe,\" Ned told his king. \"Only the shadow of a shadow, twenty years removed... if it exists at all.\"\n\n\"If?\" Varys asked softly, wringing powdered hands together. \"My lord, you wrong me. Would I bring lies toking and council?\"\n\nNed looked at the eunuch coldly. \"You would bring us the whisperings of a traitor half a world away, my lord. Perhaps Mormont is wrong. Perhaps he is lying.\"\n\n\"Ser Jorah would not dare deceive me,\" Varys said with a sly smile. \"Rely on it, my lord. The princess is with child.\"\n\n\"So you say. If you are wrong, we need not fear. If the girl miscarries, we need not fear. If she births a daughter in place of a son, we need not fear. If the babe dies in infancy, we need not fear.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"But if it is a boy?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robert insisted. \"If he lives?\"\n\n\"The narrow sea would still lie between us. I shall fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water.\"\n\nThe king took a swallow of wine and glowered at Ned across the council table. \"So you would counsel me to do nothing until the dragonspawn has landed his army on my shores, is that it?\"\n\n\"This \"dragonspawn\" is in his mother's belly,\" Ned said. \"Even Aegon did no conquering until after he was weaned.\"\n\n\"Gods! You are stubborn as an aurochs, Stark.\" The king looked around the council table. \"Have the rest of you mislaid your tongues? Will no one talk sense to this frozen-faced fool?\"\n\nVarys gave the king an unctuous smile and laid a soft hand on Ned's sleeve. \"I understand your qualms, Lord Eddard, truly I do. It gave me no joy to bring this grievous news to council. It is a terrible thing we contemplate, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule must do vile things for the good of the realm, howevermuch it pains us.\"\n\nLord Renly shrugged. \"The matter seems simple enough tome. We ought to have had Viserys and his sister killed years ago, but His Grace my brother made the mistake of listening to Jon Arryn.\"\n\n\"Mercy is never a mistake, Lord Renly,\" Ned replied. \"On the Trident, Ser Barristan here cut down a dozen good men, Robert's friends and mine. When they brought him to us, grievously wounded and near death, Roose Bolton urged us to cut his throat, but your brother said,\"I will not kill a man for loyalty, nor for fighting well, \"and sent his own maester to tend Ser Barristan's wounds.\" He gave the king along cool look. \"Would that man were here today.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Robert had shame enough to blush."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It was not the same,\" he complained. \"Ser Barristan was a knight of the Kingsguard.\"\n\n\"Whereas Daenerys is a fourteen-year-old girl.\" Ned knew he was pushing this well past the point of wisdom, yet he could not keep silent. \"Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?\"\n\n\"To put an end to Targaryens!\" the king growled.\n\n\"Your Grace, I never knew you to fear Rhaegar.\" Ned fought to keep the scorn out of his voice, and failed. \"Have the years so unmanned you that you tremble at the shadow of an unborn child?\"\n\nRobert purpled. \"No more, Ned,\" he warned, pointing. \"Not another word. Have you forgotten who is king here?\"\n\n\"No, Your Grace,\" Ned replied. \"Have you?\"\n\n\"Enough!\" the king bellowed. \"I am sick of talk. I'll be done with this, or be damned. What say you all?\"\n\n\"She must be killed,\" Lord Renly declared.\n\n\"We have no choice,\" murmured Varys. \"Sadly, sadly...\"\n\nSer Barristan Selmy raised his pale blue eyes from the table and said, \"Your Grace, there is honor in facing an enemy on the battlefield, but none in killing him in his mother's womb. Forgive me, but I must stand with Lord Eddard.\"\n\nGrand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take some minutes. \"My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl child of his no ill will. Yet I ask you this-should war come again, how many soldiers will die? How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to perish on the end of a spear?\" He stroked his luxuriant white beard, infinitely sad, infinitely weary. \"Is it not wiser, even kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now so that tens of thousands might live?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Kinder,\" Varys said. \"Oh, well and truly spoken, Grand Maester. It is so true. Should the gods in their caprice grant Daenerys Targaryen a son, the realm must bleed.\"\n\nLittlefinger was the last. As Ned looked to him, Lord Petyr stifled a yawn. \"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it,\" he declared. \"Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it.\"\n\n\"Kiss her?\" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.\n\n\"A steel kiss,\" said Littlefinger.\n\nRobert turned to face his Hand. \"Well, there it is, Ned. You and Selmy standalone on this matter. The only question that remains is, who can we find to kill her?\"\n\n\"Mormont craves a royal pardon,\" Lord Renly reminded them.\n\n\"Desperately,\" Varys said, \"yet he craves life even more. By now, the princess nears Vaes Dothrak, where it is death to draw a blade. If I told you what the Dothraki would do to the poor man who used one on a khaleesi, none of you would sleep tonight.\" He stroked a powdered cheek. \"Now, poison... the tears of Lys, let us say. Khal Drogo need never know it was not a natural death.\"\n\nGrand Maester Pycelle's sleepy eyes flicked open. He squinted suspiciously at the eunuch.\n\n\"Poison is a coward's weapon,\" the king complained.\n\nNed had heard enough. \"You send hired knives to kill a fourteen-year-old girl and still quibble about honor?\" He pushed back his chair and stood. \"Do it yourself, Robert. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Look her in the eyes before you kill her. See her tears, hear her last words. You owe her that much at least.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Gods,\" the king swore, the word exploding out of him as if he could barely contain his fury."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You mean it, damn you.\" He reached for the flagon of wine at his elbow, found it empty, and flung it away to shatter against the wall. \"I am out of wine and out of patience. Enough of this. Just have it done.\"\n\n\"I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to it.\"\n\nFora moment Robert did not seem to understand what Ned was saying. Defiance was not a dish he tasted often. Slowly his face changed as comprehension came. His eyes narrowed and a flush crept up his neck past the velvet collar. He pointed an angry finger at Ned. \"You are the King's Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I'll find me a Hand who will.\"\n\n\"I wish him every success.\" Ned unfastened the heavy clasp that clutched at the folds of his cloak, the ornate silver hand that was his badge of office. He laid it on the table in front of the king, saddened by the memory of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved. \"I thought you a better man than this, Robert. I thought we had made a nobler king.\"\n\nRobert's face was purple. \"Out,\" he croaked, choking on his rage. \"Out, damn you, I'm done with you. What are you waiting for? Go, run back to Winterfell. And make certain I never look on your face again, or I swear, I'll have your head on a spike!\"\n\nNed bowed, and turned on his heel without another word. He could feel Robert's eyes on his back. Ashe strode from the council chambers, the discussion resumed with scarcely a pause. \"On Braavos there is a society called the Faceless Men,\" Grand Maester Pycelle offered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Do you have any idea how costly they are?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Littlefinger complained. \"You could hire an army of common sellswords for half the price, and that's fora merchant. I don't dare think what they might ask fora princess.\"\n\nThe closing of the door behind him silenced the voices. Ser Boros Blount was stationed outside the chamber, wearing the long white cloak and armor of the Kingsguard. He gave Ned a quick, curious glance from the corner of his eye, but asked no questions.\n\nThe day felt heavy and oppressive as he crossed the bailey back to the Tower of the Hand. He could feel the threat of rain in the air. Ned would have welcomed it. It might have made him feel a trifle less unclean. When he reached his solar, he summoned Vayon Poole. The steward came at once. \"You sent for me, my lord Hand?\"\n\n\"Hand no longer,\" Ned told him. \"The king and I have quarreled. We shall be returning to Winterfell.\"\n\n\"I shall begin making arrangements at once, my lord. We will need a fortnight to ready everything for the journey.\"\n\n\"We may not have a fortnight. We may not have a day. The king mentioned something about seeing my head on a spike.\" Ned frowned. He did not truly believe the king would harm him, not Robert. He was angry now, but once Ned was safely out of sight, his rage would cool as it always did.\n\nSuddenly, uncomfortably, he found himself recalling Rhaegar Targaryen. Fifteen years dead, yet Robert hates him as much as ever. It was a disturbing notion... and there was the other matter, the business with Catelyn and the dwarf that Yoren had warned him of last night. That would come to light soon, assure as sunrise, and with the king in such a black fury... Robert might not care a fig for Tyrion Lannister, but it would touch on his pride, and there was no telling what the queen might do."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It might be safest if I went on ahead,\" he told Poole. \"I will take my daughters and a few guardsmen. The rest of you can follow when you are ready. Inform Jory, but tell no one else, and do nothing until the girls and I have gone. The castle is full of eyes and ears, and I would rather my plans were not known.\"\n\n\"As you command, my lord.\"\n\nWhen he had gone, Eddard Stark went to the window and sat brooding. Robert had left him no choice that he could see. He ought to thank him. It would be good to return to Winterfell. He ought never have left. His sons were waiting there. Perhaps he and Catelyn would make anew son together when he returned, they were not so old yet. And of late he had often found himself dreaming of snow, of the deep quiet of the wolfswood at night.\n\nAnd yet, the thought of leaving angered him as well. So much was still undone. Robert and his council of cravens and flatterers would beggar the realm if left unchecked... or, worse, sell it to the Lannisters in payment of their loans. And the truth of Jon Arryn's death still eluded him. Oh, he had found a few pieces, enough to convince him that Jon had indeed been murdered, but that was no more than the spoor of an animal on the forest floor. He had not sighted the beast itself yet, though he sensed it was there, lurking, hidden, treacherous.\n\nIt struck him suddenly that he might return to Winterfell by sea. Ned was no sailor, and ordinarily would have preferred the kingsroad, but if he took ship he could stop at Dragonstone and speak with Stannis Baratheon. Pycelle had sent a raven off across the water, with a polite letter from Ned requesting Lord Stannis to return to his seat on the small council. As yet, there had been no reply, but the silence only deepened his suspicions. Lord Stannis shared the secret Jon Arryn had died for, he was certain of it. The truth he sought might very well be waiting for him on the ancient island fortress of House Targaryen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And when you have it, what then? Some secrets are safer kept hidden. Some secrets are too dangerous to share, even with those you love and trust. Ned slid the dagger that Catelyn had brought him out of the sheath on his belt. The Imp's knife. Why would the dwarf want Bran dead? To silence him, surely. Another secret, or only a different strand of the same web?\n\nCould Robert be part of it? He would not have thought so, but once he would not have thought Robert could command the murder of women and children either. Catelyn had tried to warn him. You knew the man, she had said. The king is a stranger to you. The sooner he was quit of King's Landing, the better. If there was a ship sailing north on the morrow, it would be well to be on it.\n\nHe summoned Vayon Poole again and sent him to the docks to make inquiries, quietly but quickly. \"Find me a fast ship with a skilled captain,\" he told the steward. \"I care nothing for the size of its cabins or the quality of its appointments, so long as it is swift and safe. I wish to leave at once.\"\n\nPoole had no sooner taken his leave than Tomard announced a visitor. \"Lord Baelish to see you, m'lord.\"\n\nNed was half-tempted to turn him away, but thought better of it. He was not free yet; until he was, he must play their games. \"Show him in, Tom.\"\n\nLord Petyr sauntered into the solar as if nothing had gone amiss that morning. He wore a slashed velvet doublet in cream-and-silver, a grey silk cloak trimmed with black fox, and his customary mocking smile.\n\nNed greeted him coldly. \"Might I ask the reason for this visit, Lord Baelish?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I won't detain you long, I'm on my way to dine with Lady Tanda. Lamprey pie and roast suckling pig. She has some thought towed me to her younger daughter, so her table is always astonishing. If truth be told, I'd sooner marry the pig, but don't tell her. I do love lamprey pie.\"\n\n\"Don't let me keep you from your eels, my lord,\" Ned said with icy disdain. \"At the moment, I cannot think of anyone whose company I desire less than yours.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm certain if you put your mind to it, you could come up with a few names. Varys, say. Cersei. Or Robert. His Grace is most wroth with you. He went on about you at some length after you took your leave of us this morning. The words insolence and ingratitude came into it frequently, I seem to recall.\"\n\nNed did not honor that with a reply. Nor did he offer his guest a seat, but Littlefinger took one anyway. \"After you stormed out, it was left tome to convince them not to hire the Faceless Men,\" he continued blithely. \"Instead Varys will quietly let it be known that we'll make a lord of whoever does in the Targaryen girl.\"\n\nNed was disgusted. \"So now we grant titles to assassins.\"\n\nLittlefinger shrugged. \"Titles are cheap. The Faceless Men are expensive. If truth be told, I did the Targaryen girl more good than you with all your talk of honor. Let some sellsword drunk on visions of lordship try to kill her. Likely he'll make a botch of it, and afterward the Dothraki will be on their guard. If we'd sent a Faceless Man after her, she'd be as good as buried.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ned frowned."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You sit in council and talk of ugly women and steel kisses, and now you expect me to believe that you tried to protect the girl? How big a fool do you take me for?\"\n\n\"Well, quite an enormous one, actually,\" said Littlefinger, laughing.\n\n\"Do you always find murder so amusing, Lord Baelish?\"\n\n\"It's not murder I find amusing, Lord Stark, it's you. You rule like a man dancing on rotten ice. I daresay you will make a noble splash. I believe I heard the first crack this morning.\"\n\n\"The first and last,\" said Ned. \"I've had my fill.\"\n\n\"When do you mean to return to Winterfell, my lord?\"\n\n\"As soon as I can. What concern is that of yours?\"\n\n\"None... but if perchance you're still here come evenfall, I'd be pleased to take you to this brothel your man Jory has been searching for so ineffectually.\" Littlefinger smiled. \"And I won't even tell the Lady Catelyn.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My lady, you should have sent word of your coming,\" Ser Donnel Waynwood told her as their horses climbed the pass. \"We would have sent an escort. The highroad is not as safe as it once was, fora party as small as yours.\"\n\n\"We learned that to our sorrow, Ser Donnel,\" Catelyn said. Sometimes she felt as though her heart had turned to stone; six brave men had died to bring her this far, and she could not even find it in her to weep for them. Even their names were fading. \"The clansmen harried us day and night. We lost three men in the first attack, and two more in the second, and Lannister's serving man died of a fever when his wounds festered. When we heard your men approaching, I thought us doomed for certain.\" They had drawn up fora last desperate fight, blades in hand and backs to the rock. The dwarf had been whetting the edge of his axe and making some mordant jest when Bronn spotted the banner the riders carried before them, the moon-and-falcon of House Arryn, sky-blue and white. Catelyn had never seen a more welcome sight.\n\n\"The clans have grown bolder since Lord Jon died,\" Ser Donnel said. He was a stocky youth of twenty years, earnest and homely, with a wide nose and a shock of thick brown hair. \"If it were up tome, I would take a hundred men into the mountains, root them out of their fastnesses, and teach them some sharp lessons, but your sister has forbidden it. She would not even permit her knights to fight in the Hand's tourney. She wants all our swords kept close to home, to defend the Vale... against what, no one is certain. Shadows, some say.\" He looked at her anxiously, as if he had suddenly remembered who she was. \"I hope I have not spoken out of turn, my lady. I meant no offense.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Frank talk does not offend me, Ser Donnel.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn knew what her sister feared. Not shadows, Lannisters, she thought to herself, glancing back to where the dwarf rode beside Bronn. The two of them had grown thick as thieves since Chiggen had died. The little man was more cunning than she liked. When they had entered the mountains, he had been her captive, bound and helpless. What was he now? Her captive still, yet he rode along with a dirk through his belt and an axe strapped to his saddle, wearing the shadowskin cloak he'd won dicing with the singer and the chainmail hauberk he'd taken off Chiggen's corpse. Two score men flanked the dwarf and the rest of her ragged band, knights and men-at-arms in service to her sister Lysa and Jon Arryn's young son, and yet Tyrion betrayed no hint of fear. Could I be wrong? Catelyn wondered, not for the first time. Could he be innocent after all, of Bran and Jon Arryn and all the rest? And if he was, what did that make her? Six men had died to bring him here.\n\nResolute, she pushed her doubts away. \"When we reach your keep, I would take it kindly if you could send for Maester Colemon at once. Ser Rodrik is feverish from his wounds.\" More than once she had feared the gallant old knight would not survive the journey. Toward the end he could scarcely sit his horse, and Bronn had urged her to leave him to his fate, but Catelyn would not hear of it. They had tied him in the saddle instead, and she had commanded Marillion the singer to watch over him.\n\nSer Donnel hesitated before he answered. \"The Lady Lysa has commanded the maester to remain at the Eyrie at all times, to care for Lord Robert,\" he said. \"We have a septon at the gate who tends to our wounded. He can see to your man's hurts.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn had more faith in a maester's learning than a septon's prayers. She was about to say as much when she saw the battlements ahead, long parapets built into the very stone of the mountains on either side of them. Where the pass shrank to a narrow defile scarce wide enough for four men to ride abreast, twin watchtowers clung to the rocky slopes, joined by a covered bridge of weathered grey stone that arched above the road. Silent faces watched from arrow slits in tower, battlements, and bridge. When they had climbed almost to the top, a knight rode out to meet them. His horse and his armor were grey, but his cloak was the rippling blue-and-red of Riverrun, and a shiny black fish, wrought in gold and obsidian, pinned its folds against his shoulder. \"Who would pass the Bloody Gate?\" he called.\n\n\"Ser Donnel Waynwood, with the Lady Catelyn Stark and her companions,\" the young knight answered.\n\nThe Knight of the Gate lifted his visor. \"I thought the lady looked familiar. You are far from home, little Cat.\"\n\n\"And you, Uncle,\" she said, smiling despite all she had been through. Hearing that hoarse, smoky voice again took her back twenty years, to the days of her childhood.\n\n\"My home is at my back,\" he said gruffly.\n\n\"Your home is in my heart,\" Catelyn told him. \"Takeoff your helm. I would look on your face again.\"\n\n\"The years have not improved it, I fear,\" Brynden Tully said, but when he lifted off the helm, Catelyn saw that he lied. His features were lined and weathered, and time had stolen the auburn from his hair and left him only grey, but the smile was the same, and the bushy eyebrows fat as caterpillars, and the laughter in his deep blue eyes. \"Did Lysa know you were coming?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There was no time to send word ahead,\" Catelyn told him. The others were coming up behind her. \"I fear we ride before the storm, Uncle.\"\n\n\"May we enter the Vale?\" Ser Donnel asked. The Waynwoods were ever ones for ceremony.\n\n\"In the name of Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, True Warden of the East, Ibid you enter freely, and charge you to keep his peace,\" Ser Brynden replied. \"Come.\"\n\nAnd so she rode behind him, beneath the shadow of the Bloody Gate where a dozen armies had dashed themselves to pieces in the Age of Heroes. On the far side of the stoneworks, the mountains opened up suddenly upon a vista of green fields, blue sky, and snowcapped mountains that took her breath away. The Vale of Arryn bathed in the morning light.\n\nIt stretched before them to the misty east, a tranquil land of rich black soil, wide slow-moving rivers, and hundreds of small lakes that shone like mirrors in the sun, protected on all sides by its sheltering peaks. Wheat and corn and barley grew high in its fields, and even in Highgarden the pumpkins were no larger nor the fruit any sweeter than here. They stood at the western end of the valley, where the highroad crested the last pass and began its winding descent to the bottomlands two miles below. The Vale was narrow here, no more than a half day's ride across, and the northern mountains seemed so close that Catelyn could almost reach out and touch them. Looming over them all was the jagged peak called the Giant's Lance, a mountain that even mountains looked up to, its head lost in icy mists three and a half miles above the valley floor. Over its massive western shoulder flowed the ghost torrent of Alyssa's Tears. Even from this distance, Catelyn could make out the shining silver thread, bright against the dark stone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When her uncle saw that she had stopped, he moved his horse closer and pointed. \"It's there, beside Alyssa's Tears. All you can see from here is a flash of white every now and then, if you look hard and the sun hits the walls just right.\"\n\nSeven towers, Ned had told her, like white daggers thrust into the belly of the sky, so high you can stand on the parapets and look down on the clouds. \"How long a ride?\" she asked.\n\n\"We can beat the mountain by evenfall,\" Uncle Brynden said, \"but the climb will take another day.\"\n\nSer Rodrik Cassel spoke up from behind. \"My lady,\" he said, \"I fear I can go no farther today.\" His face sagged beneath his ragged, new-grown whiskers, and he looked so weary Catelyn feared he might falloff his horse.\n\n\"Nor should you,\" she said. \"You have done all I could have asked of you, and a hundred times more. My uncle will see me the rest of the way to the Eyrie. Lannister must come with me, but there is no reason that you and the others should not rest here and recover your strength.\"\n\n\"We should be honored to have them to guest,\" Ser Donnel said with the grave courtesy of the young. Beside Ser Rodrik, only Bronn, Ser Willis Wode, and Marillion the singer remained of the party that had ridden with her from the inn by the crossroads.\n\n\"My lady,\" Marillion said, riding forward. \"I beg you allow me to accompany you to the Eyrie, to seethe end of the tale as I saw its beginnings.\" The boy sounded haggard, yet strangely determined; he had a fevered shine to his eyes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn had never asked the singer to ride with them; that choice he had made himself, and how he had come to survive the journey when so many braver men lay dead and unburied behind them, she could never say. Yet here he was, with a scruff of beard that made him look almost a man. Perhaps she owed him something for having come this far. \"Very well,\" she told him.\n\n\"I'll come as well,\" Bronn announced.\n\nShe liked that less well. Without Bronn she would never have reached the Vale, she knew; the sellsword was as fierce a fighter as she had ever seen, and his sword had helped cut them through to safety. Yet for all that, Catelyn misliked the man. Courage he had, and strength, but there was no kindness in him, and little loyalty. And she had seen him riding beside Lannister far too often, talking in low voices and laughing at some private joke. She would have preferred to separate him from the dwarf here and now, but having agreed that Marillion might continue to the Eyrie, she could see no gracious way to deny that same right to Bronn. \"As you wish,\" she said, although she noted that he had not actually asked her permission.\n\nSer Willis Wode remained with Ser Rodrik, a soft-spoken septon fussing over their wounds. Their horses were left behind as well, poor ragged things. Ser Donnel promised to send birds ahead to the Eyrie and the Gates of the Moon with the word of their coming. Fresh mounts were brought forth from the stables, surefooted mountain stock with shaggy coats, and within the hour they set forth once again. Catelyn rode beside her uncle as they began the descent to the valley floor. Behind came Bronn, Tyrion Lannister, Marillion, and six of Brynden's men."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not until they were a third of the way down the mountain path, well out of earshot of the others, did Brynden Tully turn to her and say, \"So, child. Tell me about this storm of yours.\"\n\n\"I have not been a child in many years, Uncle,\" Catelyn said, but she told him nonetheless. It took longer than she would have believed to tell it all, Lysa's letter and Bran's fall, the assassin's dagger and Littlefinger and her chance meeting with Tyrion Lannister in the crossroads inn.\n\nHer uncle listened silently, heavy brows shadowing his eyes as his frown grew deeper. Brynden Tully had always known how to listen... to anyone but her father. He was Lord Hoster's brother, younger by five years, but the two of them had been at war as far back as Catelyn could remember. During one of their louder quarrels, when Catelyn was eight, Lord Hoster had called Brynden'the black goat of the Tully flock.\" Laughing, Brynden had pointed out that the sigil of their house was a leaping trout, so he ought to be a black fish rather than a black goat, and from that day forward he had taken it as his personal emblem.\n\nThe war had not ended until the day she and Lysa had been wed. It was at their wedding feast that Brynden told his brother he was leaving Riverrun to serve Lysa and her new husband, the Lord of the Eyrie. Lord Hoster had not spoken his brother's name since, from what Edmure told her in his infrequent letters.\n\nNonetheless, during all those years of Catelyn's girlhood, it had been Brynden the Blackfish to whom Lord Hoster's children had run with their tears and their tales, when Father was too busy and Mother too ill. Catelyn, Lysa, Edmure... and yes, even Petyr Baelish, their father's ward... he had listened to them all patiently, as he listened now, laughing at their triumphs and sympathizing with their childish misfortunes."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 37"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not until they were a third of the way down the mountain path, well out of earshot of the others, did Brynden Tully turn to her and say, \"So, child. Tell me about this storm of yours.\"\n\n\"I have not been a child in many years, Uncle,\" Catelyn said, but she told him nonetheless. It took longer than she would have believed to tell it all, Lysa's letter and Bran's fall, the assassin's dagger and Littlefinger and her chance meeting with Tyrion Lannister in the crossroads inn.\n\nHer uncle listened silently, heavy brows shadowing his eyes as his frown grew deeper. Brynden Tully had always known how to listen... to anyone but her father. He was Lord Hoster's brother, younger by five years, but the two of them had been at war as far back as Catelyn could remember. During one of their louder quarrels, when Catelyn was eight, Lord Hoster had called Brynden'the black goat of the Tully flock.\" Laughing, Brynden had pointed out that the sigil of their house was a leaping trout, so he ought to be a black fish rather than a black goat, and from that day forward he had taken it as his personal emblem.\n\nThe war had not ended until the day she and Lysa had been wed. It was at their wedding feast that Brynden told his brother he was leaving Riverrun to serve Lysa and her new husband, the Lord of the Eyrie. Lord Hoster had not spoken his brother's name since, from what Edmure told her in his infrequent letters.\n\nNonetheless, during all those years of Catelyn's girlhood, it had been Brynden the Blackfish to whom Lord Hoster's children had run with their tears and their tales, when Father was too busy and Mother too ill. Catelyn, Lysa, Edmure... and yes, even Petyr Baelish, their father's ward... he had listened to them all patiently, as he listened now, laughing at their triumphs and sympathizing with their childish misfortunes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When she was done, her uncle remained silent fora longtime, as his horse negotiated the steep, rocky trail. \"Your father must be told,\" he said at last. \"If the Lannisters should march, Winterfell is remote and the Vale walled up behind its mountains, but Riverrun lies right in their path.\"\n\n\"I'd had the same fear,\" Catelyn admitted. \"I shall ask Maester Colemon to send a bird when we reach the Eyrie.\" She had other messages to send as well; the commands that Ned had given her for his bannermen, to ready the defenses of the north. \"What is the mood in the Vale?\" she asked.\n\n\"Angry,\" Brynden Tully admitted. \"Lord Jon was much loved, and the insult was keenly felt when the king named Jaime Lannister to an office the Arryns had held for near three hundred years. Lysa has commanded us to call her son the True Warden of the East, but no one is fooled. Nor is your sister alone in wondering at the manner of the Hand's death. None daresay Jon was murdered, not openly, but suspicion casts along shadow.\" He gave Catelyn a look, his mouth tight. \"And there is the boy.\"\n\n\"The boy? What of him?\" She ducked her head as they passed under a low overhang of rock, and around a sharp turn.\n\nHer uncle's voice was troubled. \"Lord Robert,\" he sighed. \"Six years old, sickly, and prone to weep if you take his dolls away. Jon Arryn's trueborn heir, by all the gods, yet there are some who say he is too weak to sit his father's seat. Nestor Royce has been high steward these past fourteen years, while Lord Jon served in King's Landing, and many whisper that he should rule until the boy comes of age. Others believe that Lysa must marry again, and soon. Already the suitors gather like crows on a battlefield. The Eyrie is full of them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I might have expected that,\" Catelyn said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Small wonder there; Lysa was still young, and the kingdom of Mountain and Vale made a handsome wedding gift. \"Will Lysa take another husband?\"\n\n\"She says yes, provided she finds a man who suits her,\" Brynden Tully said, \"but she has already rejected Lord Nestor and a dozen other suitable men. She swears that this time she will choose her lord husband.\"\n\n\"You of all people can scarce fault her for that.\"\n\nSer Brynden snorted. \"Nor do I, but... it seems tome Lysa is only playing at courtship. She enjoys the sport, but I believe your sister intends to rule herself until her boy is old enough to be Lord of the Eyrie in truth as well as name.\"\n\n\"A woman can rule as wisely as a man,\" Catelyn said.\n\n\"The right woman can,\" her uncle said with a sideways glance. \"Make no mistake, Cat. Lysa is not you.\" He hesitated a moment. \"If truth be told, I fear you may not find your sister as... helpful as you would like.\"\n\nShe was puzzled. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"The Lysa who came back from King's Landing is not the same girl who went south when her husband was named Hand. Those years were hard for her. You must know. Lord Arryn was a dutiful husband, but their marriage was made from politics, not passion.\"\n\n\"As was my own.\"\n\n\"They began the same, but your ending has been happier than your sister's. Two babes stillborn, twice as many miscarriages, Lord Arryn's death... Catelyn, the gods gave Lysa only the one child, and he is all your sister lives for now, poorboy. Small wonder she fled rather than see him handed over to the Lannisters. Your sister is afraid, child, and the Lannisters are what she fears most. She ran to the Vale, stealing away from the Red Keep like a thief in the night, and all to snatch her son out of the lion's mouth... and now you have brought the lion to her door.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"In chains,\" Catelyn said. A crevasse yawned on her right, falling away into darkness. She reined up her horse and picked her way along step by careful step.\n\n\"Oh?\" Her uncle glanced back, to where Tyrion Lannister was making his slow descent behind them. \"I see an axe on his saddle, a dirk at his belt, and a sellsword that trails after him like a hungry shadow. Where are the chains, sweet one?\"\n\nCatelyn shifted uneasily in her seat. \"The dwarf is here, and not by choice. Chains or no, he is my prisoner. Lysa will want him to answer for his crimes no less than I. It washer own lord husband the Lannisters murdered, and her own letter that first warned us against them.\"\n\nBrynden Blackfish gave her a weary smile. \"I hope you are right, child,\" he sighed, intones that said she was wrong.\n\nThe sun was well to the west by the time the slope began to flatten beneath the hooves of their horses. The road widened and grew straight, and for the first time Catelyn noticed wildflowers and grasses growing. Once they reached the valley floor, the going was faster and they made good time, cantering through verdant greenwoods and sleepy little hamlets, past orchards and golden wheat fields, splashing across a dozen sunlit streams. Her uncle sent a standard-bearer ahead of them, a double banner flying from his staff; the moon-and-falcon of House Arryn on high, and below it his own black fish. Farm wagons and merchants' carts and riders from lesser houses moved aside to let them pass.\n\nEven so, it was full dark before they reached the stout castle that stood at the foot of the Giant's Lance. Torches flickered atop its ramparts, and the horned moon danced upon the dark waters of its moat. The drawbridge was up and the portcullis down, but Catelyn saw lights burning in the gatehouse and spilling from the windows of the square towers beyond."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Gates of the Moon,\" her uncle said as the party drew rein. His standard-bearer rode to the edge of the moat to hail the men in the gatehouse. \"Lord Nestor's seat. He should be expecting us. Lookup.\"\n\nCatelyn raised her eyes, up and up and up. At first all she saw was stone and trees, the looming mass of the great mountain shrouded in night, as black as a starless sky. Then she noticed the glow of distant fires well above them; a tower keep, built upon the steep side of the mountain, its lights like orange eyes staring down from above. Above that was another, higher and more distant, and still higher a third, no more than a flickering spark in the sky. And finally, up where the falcons soared, a flash of white in the moonlight. Vertigo washed over her as she stared upward at the pale towers, so far above.\n\n\"The Eyrie,\" she heard Marillion murmur, awed.\n\nThe sharp voice of Tyrion Lannister broke in. \"The Arryns must not be overfond of company. If you're planning to make us climb that mountain in the dark, I'd rather you kill me here.\"\n\n\"We'll spend the night here and make the ascent on the morrow,\" Brynden told him.\n\n\"I can scarcely wait,\" the dwarf replied. \"How do we getup there? I've no experience at riding goats.\"\n\n\"Mules,\" Brynden said, smiling.\n\n\"There are steps carved into the mountain,\" Catelyn said. Ned had told her about them when he talked of his youth herewith Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn.\n\nHer uncle nodded. \"It is too dark to see them, but the steps are there. Too steep and narrow for horses, but mules can manage them most of the way. The path is guarded by three waycastles, Stone and Snow and Sky. The mules will take us as far up as Sky.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tyrion Lannister glanced up doubtfully."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And beyond that?\"\n\nBrynden smiled. \"Beyond that, the path is too steep even for mules. We ascend on foot the rest of the way. Or perchance you'd prefer to ride a basket. The Eyrie clings to the mountain directly above Sky, and in its cellars are six great winches with long iron chains to draw supplies up from below. If you prefer, my lord of Lannister, I can arrange for you to ride up with the bread and beer and apples.\"\n\nThe dwarf gave a bark of laughter. \"Would that I were a pumpkin,\" he said. \"Alas, my lord father would no doubt be most chagrined if his son of Lannister went to his fate like a load of turnips. If you ascend on foot, I fear I must do the same. We Lannisters do have a certain pride.\"\n\n\"Pride?\" Catelyn snapped. His mocking tone and easy manner made her angry. \"Arrogance, some might call it. Arrogance and avarice and lust for power.\"\n\n\"My brother is undoubtedly arrogant,\" Tyrion Lannister replied. \"My father is the soul of avarice, and my sweet sister Cersei lusts for power with every waking breath. I, however, am innocent as a little lamb. Shall I bleat for you?\" He grinned.\n\nThe drawbridge came creaking down before she could reply, and they heard the sound of oiled chains as the portcullis was drawn up. Men-at-arms carried burning brands out to light their way, and her uncle led them across the moat. Lord Nestor Royce, High Steward of the Vale and Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, was waiting in the yard to greet them, surrounded by his knights. \"Lady Stark,\" he said, bowing. He was a massive, barrel-chested man, and his bow was clumsy."
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "Catelyn dismounted to stand before him. \"Lord Nestor,\" she said. She knew the man only by reputation; Bronze Yohn's cousin, from a lesser branch of House Royce, yet still a formidable lord in his own right. \"We have had along and tiring journey. I would beg the hospitality of your roof tonight, if I might.\"\n\n\"My roof is yours, my lady,\" Lord Nestor returned gruffly, \"but your sister the Lady Lysa has sent down word from the Eyrie. She wishes to see you at once. The rest of your party will be housed here and sent up at first light.\"\n\nHer uncle swung off his horse. \"What madness is this?\" he said bluntly. Brynden Tully had never been a man to blunt the edge of his words. \"A night ascent, with the moon not even full? Even Lysa should know that's an invitation to a broken neck.\"\n\n\"The mules know the way, Ser Brynden.\" A wiry girl of seventeen or eighteen years stepped up beside Lord Nestor. Her dark hair was cropped short and straight around her head, and she wore riding leathers and alight shirt of silvered ringmail. She bowed to Catelyn, more gracefully than her lord. \"I promise you, my lady, no harm will come to you. It would be my honor to take you up. I've made the dark climb a hundred times. Mychel says my father must have been a goat.\"\n\nShe sounded so cocky that Catelyn had to smile. \"Do you have a name, child?\"\n\n\"Mya Stone, if it please you, my lady,\" the girl said.\n\nIt did not please her; it was an effort for Catelyn to keep the smile on her face. Stone was a bastard's name in the Vale, as Snow was in the north, and Flowers in Highgarden; in each of the Seven Kingdoms, custom had fashioned a surname for children born with no names of their own. Catelyn had nothing against this girl, but suddenly she could not help but think of Ned's bastard on the Wall, and the thought made her angry and guilty, both at once. She struggled to find words fora reply."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Nestor filled the silence. \"Mya's a clever girl, and if she vows she will bring you safely to the Lady Lysa, I believe her. She has not failed me yet.\"\n\n\"Then I put myself in your hands, Mya Stone,\" Catelyn said. \"Lord Nestor, I charge you to keep a close guard on my prisoner.\"\n\n\"And I charge you to bring the prisoner a cup of wine and a nicely crisped capon, before he dies of hunger,\" Lannister said. \"A girl would be pleasant as well, but I suppose that's too much to ask of you.\" The sellsword Bronn laughed aloud.\n\nLord Nestor ignored the banter. \"As you say, my lady, so it will be done.\" Only then did he look at the dwarf. \"See our lord of Lannister to a tower cell, and bring him meat and mead.\"\n\nCatelyn took her leave of her uncle and the others as Tyrion Lannister was led off, then followed the bastard girl through the castle. Two mules were waiting in the upper bailey, saddled and ready. Mya helped her mount one while a guardsman in a sky-blue cloak opened the narrow postern gate. Beyond was dense forest of pine and spruce, and the mountain like a black wall, but the steps were there, chiseled deep into the rock, ascending into the sky. \"Some people find it easier if they close their eyes,\" Mya said as she led the mules through the gate into the dark wood. \"When they get frightened or dizzy, sometimes they hold onto the mule too tight. They don't like that.\"\n\n\"I was born a Tully and wed to a Stark,\" Catelyn said. \"I do not frighten easily. Do you plan to light a torch?\" The steps were black as pitch."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The girl made a face. \"Torches just blind you. On a clear night like this, the moon and the stars are enough. Mychel says I have the eyes of the owl.\" She mounted and urged her mule up the first step. Catelyn's animal followed of its own accord.\n\n\"You mentioned Mychel before,\" Catelyn said. The mules set the pace, slow but steady. She was perfectly content with that.\n\n\"Mychel's my love,\" Mya explained. \"Mychel Redfort. He's squire to Ser Lyn Corbray. We're towed as soon as he becomes a knight, next year or the year after.\"\n\nShe sounded so like Sansa, so happy and innocent with her dreams. Catelyn smiled, but the smile was tinged with sadness. The Redforts were an old name in the Vale, she knew, with the blood of the First Men in their veins. His love she might be, but no Redfort would ever wed a bastard. His family would arrange a more suitable match for him, to a Corbray or a Waynwood or a Royce, or perhaps a daughter of some greater house outside the Vale. If Mychel Redfort laid with this girl at all, it would be on the wrong side of the sheet.\n\nThe ascent was easier than Catelyn had dared hope. The trees pressed close, leaning over the path to make a rustling green roof that shutout even the moon, so it seemed as though they were moving up along black tunnel. But the mules were surefooted and tireless, and Mya Stone did indeed seem blessed with night-eyes. They plodded upward, winding their way back and forth across the face of the mountain as the steps twisted and turned. A thick layer of fallen needles carpeted the path, so the shoes of their mules made only the softest sound on the rock. The quiet soothed her, and the gentle rocking motion set Catelyn to swaying in her saddle. Before long she was fighting sleep."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perhaps she did doze fora moment, for suddenly a massive ironbound gate was looming before them. \"Stone,\" Mya announced cheerily, dismounting. Iron spikes were set along the tops of formidable stonewalls, and two fat round towers overtopped the keep. The gate swung open at Mya's shout. Inside, the portly knight who commanded the waycastle greeted Mya by name and offered them skewers of charred meat and onions still hot from the spit. Catelyn had not realized how hungry she was. She ate standing in the yard, as stablehands moved their saddles to fresh mules. The hot juices ran down her chin and dripped onto her cloak, but she was too famished to care.\n\nThen it was up onto anew mule and out again into the starlight. The second part of the ascent seemed more treacherous to Catelyn. The trail was steeper, the steps more worn, and here and there littered with pebbles and broken stone. Mya had to dismount a half-dozen times to move fallen rocks from their path. \"You don't want your mule to break a leg up here,\" she said. Catelyn was forced to agree. She could feel the altitude more now. The trees were sparser up here, and the wind blew more vigorously, sharp gusts that tugged at her clothing and pushed her hair into her eyes. From time to time the steps doubled back on themselves, and she could see Stone below them, and the Gates of the Moon farther down, its torches no brighter than candles.\n\nSnow was smaller than Stone, a single fortified tower and a timber keep and stable hidden behind a low wall of unmortared rock. Yet it nestled against the Giant's Lance in such away as to command the entire stone stair above the lower waycastle. An enemy intent on the Eyrie would have to fight his way from Stone step by step, while rocks and arrows rained down from Snow above. The commander, an anxious young knight with a pockmarked face, offered bread and cheese and the chance to warm themselves before his fire, but Mya declined. \"We ought to keep going, my lady,\" she said. \"If it please you.\" Catelyn nodded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Again they were given fresh mules. Hers was white. Mya smiled when she saw him. \"Whitey's a good one, my lady. Sure of foot, even on ice, but you need to be careful. He'll kick if he doesn't like you.\"\n\nThe white mule seemed to like Catelyn; there was no kicking, thank the gods. There was no ice either, and she was grateful for that as well. \"My mother says that hundreds of years ago, this was where the snow began,\" Mya told her. \"It was always white above here, and the ice never melted.\" She shrugged. \"I can't remember ever seeing snow this far down the mountain, but maybe it was that way once, in the olden times.\"\n\nSo young, Catelyn thought, trying to remember if she had ever been like that. The girl had lived half her life in summer, and that was all she knew. Winter is coming, child, she wanted to tell her. The words were on her lips; she almost said them. Perhaps she was becoming a Stark at last.\n\nAbove Snow, the wind was a living thing, howling around them like a wolf in the waste, then falling off to nothing as if to lure them into complacency. The stars seemed brighter up here, so close that she could almost touch them, and the horned moon was huge in the clear black sky. As they climbed, Catelyn found it was better to lookup than down. The steps were cracked and broken from centuries of freeze and thaw and the tread of countless mules, and even in the dark the heights put her heart in her throat. When they came to a high saddle between two spires of rock, Mya dismounted. \"It's best to lead the mules over,\" she said. \"The wind can be a little scary here, my lady.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn climbed stiffly from the shadows and looked at the path ahead; twenty feet long and close to three feet wide, but with a precipitous drop to either side. She could hear the wind shrieking. Mya stepped lightly out, her mule following as calmly as if they were crossing a bailey. It washer turn. Yet no sooner had she taken her first step than fear caught Catelyn in its jaws. She could feel the emptiness, the vast black gulfs of air that yawned around her. She stopped, trembling, afraid to move. The wind screamed at her and wrenched at her cloak, trying to pull her over the edge. Catelyn edged her foot backward, the most timid of steps, but the mule was behind her, and she could not retreat. I am going to die here, she thought. She could feel cold sweat trickling down her back.\n\n\"Lady Stark,\" Mya called across the gulf. The girl sounded a thousand leagues away. \"Are you well?\"\n\nCatelyn Tully Stark swallowed what remained of her pride. \"I... I cannot do this, child,\" she called out.\n\n\"Yes you can,\" the bastard girl said. \"I know you can. Look how wide the path is.\"\n\n\"I don't want to look.\" The world seemed to be spinning around her, mountain and sky and mules, whirling like a child's top. Catelyn closed her eyes to steady her ragged breathing.\n\n\"I'll comeback for you,\" Mya said. \"Don't move, my lady.\"\n\nMoving was about the last thing Catelyn was about to do. She listened to the skirling of the wind and the scuffling sound of leather on stone. Then Mya was there, taking her gently by the arm. \"Keep your eyes closed if you like. Let goof the rope now, Whitey will take care of himself. Very good, my lady. I'll lead you over, it's easy, you'll see. Give me a step now. That's it, move your foot, just slide it forward. See. Now another. Easy. You could run across. Another one, goon. Yes.\" And so, foot by foot, step by step, the bastard girl led Catelyn across, blind and trembling, while the white mule followed placidly behind them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The waycastle called Sky was no more than a high, crescent-shaped wall of unmortared stone raised against the side of the mountain, but even the topless towers of Valyria could not have looked more beautiful to Catelyn Stark."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Here at last the snow crown began; Sky's weathered stones were rimed with frost, and long spears of ice hung from the slopes above.\n\nDawn was breaking in the east as Mya Stone hallooed for the guards, and the gates opened before them. Inside the walls there was only a series of ramps and a great tumble of boulders and stones of all sizes. No doubt it would be the easiest thing in the world to begin an avalanche from here. A mouth yawned in the rock face in front of them. \"The stables and barracks are in there,\" Mya said. \"The last part is inside the mountain. It can be a little dark, but at least you're out of the wind. This is as far as the mules can go. Past here, well, it's a sort of chimney, more like a stone ladder than proper steps, but it's not too bad. Another hour and we'll be there.\"\n\nCatelyn looked up. Directly overhead, pale in the dawn light, she could seethe foundations of the Eyrie. It could not be more than six hundred feet above them. From below it looked like a small white honeycomb. She remembered what her uncle had said of baskets and winches. \"The Lannisters may have their pride,\" she told Mya, \"but the Tullys are born with better sense. I have ridden all day and the best part of a night. Tell them to lower a basket. I shall ride with the turnips.\"\n\nThe sun was well above the mountains by the time Catelyn Stark finally reached the Eyrie. A stocky, silver-haired man in a sky-blue cloak and hammered moon-and-falcon breastplate helped her from the basket; Ser Vardis Egen, captain of Jon Arryn's household guard. Beside him stood Maester Colemon, thin and nervous, with too little hair and too much neck. \"Lady Stark,\" Ser Vardis said, \"the pleasure is as great as it is unanticipated.\" Maester Colemon bobbed his head in agreement. \"Indeed it is, my lady, indeed it is. I have sent word to your sister. She left orders to be awakened the instant you arrived.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I hope she had a good night's rest,\" Catelyn said with a certain bite in her tone that seemed to go unnoticed.\n\nThe men escorted her from the winch room up a spiral stair. The Eyrie was a small castle by the standards of the great houses; seven slender white towers bunched as tightly as arrows in a quiver on a shoulder of the great mountain. It had no need of stables nor smithys nor kennels, but Ned said its granary was as large as Winterfell's, and its towers could house five hundred men. Yet it seemed strangely deserted to Catelyn as she passed through it, its pale stone halls echoing and empty.\n\nLysa was waiting alone in her solar, still clad in her bed robes. Her long auburn hair tumbled unbound across bare white shoulders and down her back. A maid stood behind her, brushing out the night's tangles, but when Catelyn entered, her sister rose to her feet, smiling. \"Cat,\" she said. \"Oh, Cat, how good it is to see you. My sweet sister.\" She ran across the chamber and wrapped her sister in her arms. \"How long it has been,\" Lysa murmured against her. \"Oh, how very very long.\"\n\nIt had been five years, in truth; five cruel years, for Lysa. They had taken their toll. Her sister was two years the younger, yet she looked older now. Shorter than Catelyn, Lysa had grown thick of body, pale and puffy of face. She had the blue eyes of the Tullys, but hers were pale and watery, never still. Her small mouth had turned petulant. As Catelyn held her, she remembered the slender, high-breasted girl who'd waited beside her that day in the sept at Riverrun. How lovely and full of hope she had been. All that remained of her sister's beauty was the great fall of thick auburn hair that cascaded to her waist."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You look well,\" Catelyn lied, \"but... tired.\"\n\nHer sister broke the embrace. \"Tired. Yes. Oh, yes.\" She seemed to notice the others then; her maid, Maester Colemon, Ser Vardis. \"Leave us,\" she told them. \"I wish to speak to my sister alone.\" She held Catelyn's hand as they withdrew...\n\n... and dropped it the instant the door closed. Catelyn saw her face change. It was as if the sun had gone behind a cloud. \"Have you taken leave of your senses?\" Lysa snapped at her. \"To bring him here, without a word of permission, without so much as a warning, to drag us into your quarrels with the Lannisters...\"\n\n\"My quarrels?\" Catelyn could scarce believe what she was hearing. A great fire burned in the hearth, but there was no trace of warmth in Lysa's voice. \"They were your quarrels first, sister. It was you who sent me that cursed letter, you who wrote that the Lannisters had murdered your husband.\"\n\n\"To warn you, so you could stay away from them! I never meant to fight them! Gods, Cat, do you know what you've done?\"\n\n\"Mother?\" a small voice said. Lysa whirled, her heavy robe swirling around her. Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, stood in the doorway, clutching a ragged cloth doll and looking at them with large eyes. He was a painfully thin child, small for his age and sickly all his days, and from time to time he trembled. The shaking sickness, the maesters called it. \"I heard voices.\"\n\nSmall wonder, Catelyn thought; Lysa had almost been shouting. Still, her sister looked daggers at her. \"This is your aunt Catelyn, baby. My sister, Lady Stark. Do you remember?\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The boy glanced at her blankly. \"I think so,\" he said, blinking, though he had been less than a year old the last time Catelyn had seen him.\n\nLysa seated herself near the fire and said, \"Come to Mother, my sweet one.\" She straightened his bedclothes and fussed with his fine brown hair. \"Isn't he beautiful? And strong too, don't you believe the things you hear. Jon knew. The seed is strong, he told me. His last words. He kept saying Robert's name, and he grabbed my arm so hard he left marks. Tell them, the seed is strong. His seed. He wanted everyone to know what a good strong boy my baby was going to be.\"\n\n\"Lysa,\" Catelyn said, \"if you're right about the Lannisters, all the more reason we must act quickly. We-\"\n\n\"Not in front of the baby,\" Lysa said. \"He has a delicate temper, don't you, sweet one?\"\n\n\"The boy is Lord of the Eyrie and Defender of the Vale,\" Catelyn reminded her, \"and these are not times for delicacy. Ned thinks it may come to war.\"\n\n\"Quiet!\" Lysa snapped at her. \"You're scaring the boy.\" Little Robert took a quick peek over his shoulder at Catelyn and began to tremble. His doll fell to the rushes, and he pressed himself against his mother. \"Don't be afraid, my sweet baby,\" Lysa whispered. \"Mother's here, nothing will hurt you.\" She opened her robe and drew out a pale, heavy breast, tipped with red. The boy grabbed for it eagerly, buried his face against her chest, and began to suck. Lysa stroked his hair."
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn was at a loss for words, Jon Arryn's son, she thought incredulously. She remembered her own baby, three-year-old Rickon, half the age of this boy and five times as fierce. Small wonder the lords of the Vale were restive. For the first time she understood why the king had tried to take the child away from his mother to foster with the Lannisters...\n\n\"We're safe here,\" Lysa was saying. Whether to her or to the boy, Catelyn was not sure.\n\n\"Don't be a fool,\" Catelyn said, the anger rising in her. \"No one is safe. If you think hiding here will make the Lannisters forget you, you are sadly mistaken.\"\n\nLysa covered her boy's ear with her hand. \"Even if they could bring an army through the mountains and past the Bloody Gate, the Eyrie is impregnable. You saw for yourself. No enemy could ever reach us up here.\"\n\nCatelyn wanted to slap her. Uncle Brynden had tried to warn her, she realized. \"No castle is impregnable.\"\n\n\"This one is,\" Lysa insisted. \"Everyone says so. The only thing is, what am Ito do with this Imp you have brought me?\"\n\n\"Is he a badman?\" the Lord of the Eyrie asked, his mother's breast popping from his mouth, the nipple wet and red.\n\n\"Avery badman,\" Lysa told him as she covered herself, \"but Mother won't let him harm my little baby.\"\n\n\"Make him fly,\" Robert said eagerly.\n\nLysa stroked her son's hair. \"Perhaps we will,\" she murmured. \"Perhaps that is just what we will do.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He found Littlefinger in the brothel's common room, chatting amiably with a tall, elegant woman who wore a feathered gown over skin as black as ink. By the hearth, Heward and a buxom wench were playing at forfeits. From the look of it, he'd lost his belt, his cloak, his mail shirt, and his right boot so far, while the girl had been forced to unbutton her shift to the waist. Jory Cassel stood beside a rain-streaked window with awry smile on his face, watching Heward turnover tiles and enjoying the view.\n\nNed paused at the foot of the stair and pulled on his gloves. \"It's time we took our leave. My business here is done.\"\n\nHeward lurched to his feet, hurriedly gathering up his things. \"As you will, my lord,\" Jory said. \"I'll help Wyl bring round the horses.\" He strode to the door.\n\nLittlefinger took his time saying his farewells. He kissed the black woman's hand, whispered some joke that made her laugh aloud, and sauntered over to Ned. \"Your business,\" he said lightly, \"or Robert's? They say the Hand dreams the king's dreams, speaks with the king's voice, and rules with the king's sword. Does that also mean you fuck with the king's-\"\n\n\"Lord Baelish,\" Ned interrupted, \"you presume too much. I am not ungrateful for your help. It might have taken us years to find this brothel without you. That does not mean I intend to endure your mockery. And I am no longer the King's Hand.\"\n\n\"The direwolf must be a prickly beast,\" said Littlefinger with a sharp twist of his mouth."
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A warm rain was pelting down from a starless black sky as they walked to the stables. Ned drew up the hood of his cloak. Jory brought out his horse. Young Wyl came right behind him, leading Littlefinger's mare with one hand while the other fumbled with his belt and the lacings of his trousers. A barefoot whore leaned out of the stable door, giggling at him.\n\n\"Will we be going back to the castle now, my lord?\" Jory asked. Ned nodded and swung into the saddle. Littlefinger mounted up beside him. Jory and the others followed.\n\n\"Chataya runs a choice establishment,\" Littlefinger said as they rode. \"I've half a mind to buy it. Brothels area much sounder investment than ships, I've found. Whores seldom sink, and when they are boarded by pirates, why, the pirates pay good coin like everyone else.\" Lord Petyr chuckled at his own wit.\n\nNed let him prattle on. After a time, he quieted and they rode in silence. The streets of King's Landing were dark and deserted. The rain had driven everyone under their roofs. It beat down on Ned's head, warm as blood and relentless as old guilts. Fat drops of water ran down his face.\n\n\"Robert will never keep to one bed,\" Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the nightlong ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm's End. \"I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale.\" Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. \"Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The girl had been so young Ned had not dared to ask her age. No doubt she'd been a virgin; the better brothels could always find a virgin, if the purse was fat enough. She had light red hair and a powdering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and when she slipped free abreast to give her nipple to the babe, he saw that her bosom was freckled as well. \"I named her Barra,\" she said as the child nursed. \"She looks so like him, does she not, milord? She has his nose, and his hair...\"\n\n\"She does.\" Eddard Stark had touched the baby's fine, dark hair. It flowed through his fingers like black silk. Robert's firstborn had had the same fine hair, he seemed to recall.\n\n\"Tell him that when you see him, milord, as it... as it please you. Tell him how beautiful she is.\"\n\n\"I will,\" Ned had promised her. That was his curse. Robert would swear undying love and forget them before evenfall, but Ned Stark kept his vows. He thought of the promises he'd made Lyanna as she lay dying, and the price he'd paid to keep them.\n\n\"And tell him I've not been with no one else. I swear it, milord, by the old gods and new. Chataya said I could have half a year, for the baby, and for hoping he'd comeback. So you'll tell him I'm waiting, won't you? I don't want no jewels or nothing, just him. He was always good tome, truly.\"\n\nGood to you, Ned thought hollowly. \"I will tell him, child, and I promise you, Barra shall not go wanting.\"\n\nShe had smiled then, a smile so tremulous and sweet that it cut the heart out of him. Riding through the rainy night, Ned saw Jon Snow's face in front of him, so like a younger version of his own. If the gods frowned soon bastards, he thought dully, why did they fill men with such lusts? \"Lord Baelish, what do you know of Robert's bastards?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, he has more than you, fora start.\"\n\n\"How many?\"\n\nLittlefinger shrugged. Rivulets of moisture twisted down the back of his cloak. \"Does it matter? If you bed enough women, some will give you presents, and His Grace has never been shy on that count. I know he's acknowledged that boy at Storm's End, the one he fathered the night Lord Stannis wed. He could hardly do otherwise. The mother was a Florent, niece to the Lady Selyse, one of her bedmaids. Renly says that Robert carried the girl upstairs during the feast, and broke in the wedding bed while Stannis and his bride were still dancing. Lord Stannis seemed to think that was a blot on the honor of his wife's House, so when the boy was born, he shipped him off to Renly.\" He gave Ned a sideways glance. \"I've also heard whispers that Robert got a pair of twins on a serving wench at Casterly Rock, three years ago when he went west for Lord Tywin's tourney. Cersei had the babes killed, and sold the mother to a passing slaver. Too much an affront to Lannister pride, that close to home.\"\n\nNed Stark grimaced. Ugly tales like that were told of every great lord in the realm. He could believe it of Cersei Lannister readily enough... but would the king standby and let it happen? The Robert he had known would not have, but the Robert he had known had never been so practiced at shutting his eyes to things he did not wish to see. \"Why would Jon Arryn take a sudden interest in the king's baseborn children?\"\n\nThe short man gave a sodden shrug. \"He was the King's Hand. Doubtless Robert asked him to see that they were provided for.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned was soaked through to the bone, and his soul had grown cold. \"It had to be more than that, or why kill him?\"\n\nLittlefinger shook the rain from his hair and laughed. \"Now I see. Lord Arryn learned that His Grace had filled the bellies of some whores and fishwives, and for that he had to be silenced. Small wonder. Allow a manlike that to live, and next he's like to blurt out that the sunrises in the east.\"\n\nThere was no answer Ned Stark could give to that but a frown. For the first time in years, he found himself remembering Rhaegar Targaryen. He wondered if Rhaegar had frequented brothels; somehow he thought not.\n\nThe rain was falling harder now, stinging the eyes and drumming against the ground. Rivers of black water were running down the hill when Jory called out, \"My lord,\" his voice hoarse with alarm. And in an instant, the street was full of soldiers.\n\nNed glimpsed ringmail over leather, gauntlets and greaves, steel helms with golden lions on the crests. Their cloaks clung to their backs, sodden with rain. He had no time to count, but there were ten at least, a line of them, on foot, blocking the street, with longswords andiron-tipped spears. \"Behind!\" he heard Wyl cry, and when he turned his horse, there were more in back of them, cutting off their retreat. Jory's sword came singing from its scabbard. \"Make way or die!\"\n\n\"The wolves are howling,\" their leader said. Ned could see rain running down his face. \"Such a small pack, though.\"\n\nLittlefinger walked his horse forward, step by careful step. \"What is the meaning of this? This is the Hand of the King.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He was the Hand of the King.\" The mud muffled the hooves of the blood bay stallion. The line parted before him. On a golden breastplate, the lion of Lannister roared its defiance. \"Now, if truth be told, I'm not sure what he is.\"\n\n\"Lannister, this is madness,\" Littlefinger said. \"Let us pass. We are expected back at the castle. What do you think you're doing?\"\n\n\"He knows what he's doing,\" Ned said calmly.\n\nJaime Lannister smiled. \"Quite true. I'm looking for my brother. You remember my brother, don't you, Lord Stark? He was with us at Winterfell. Fair-haired, mismatched eyes, sharp of tongue. A short man.\"\n\n\"I remember him well,\" Ned replied.\n\n\"It would seem he has met some trouble on the road. My lord father is quite vexed. You would not perchance have any notion of who might have wished my brother ill, would you?\"\n\n\"Your brother has been taken at my command, to answer for his crimes,\" Ned Stark said.\n\nLittlefinger groaned in dismay. \"My lords-\"\n\nSer Jaime ripped his longsword from its sheath and urged his stallion forward. \"Show me your steel, Lord Eddard. I'll butcher you like Aerys if I must, but I'd sooner you died with a blade in your hand.\" He gave Littlefinger a cool, contemptuous glance. \"Lord Baelish, I'd leave herein some haste if I did not care to get bloodstains on my costly clothing.\"\n\nLittlefinger did not need to be urged. \"I will bring the City Watch,\" he promised Ned. The Lannister line parted to let him through, and closed behind him. Littlefinger put his heels to his mare and vanished around a corner."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned's men had drawn their swords, but they were three against twenty. Eyes watched from nearby windows and doors, but no one was about to intervene. His party was mounted, the Lannisters on foot save for Jaime himself. A charge might win them free, but it seemed to Eddard Stark that they had a surer, safer tactic. \"Kill me,\" he warned the Kingslayer, \"and Catelyn will most certainly slay Tyrion.\"\n\nJaime Lannister poked at Ned's chest with the gilded sword that had sipped the blood of the last of the Dragonkings. \"Would she? The noble Catelyn Tully of Riverrun murder a hostage? I think... not.\" He sighed. \"But I am not willing to chance my brother's life on a woman's honor.\" Jaime slid the golden sword into its sheath. \"So I suppose I'll let you run back to Robert to tell him how I frightened you. I wonder if he'll care.\" Jaime pushed his wet hair back with his fingers and wheeled his horse around. When he was beyond the line of swordsmen, he glanced back at his captain. \"Tregar, see that no harm comes to Lord Stark.\"\n\n\"As you say, m'lord.\"\n\n\"Still... we wouldn't want him to leave here entirely unchastened, so\"-through the night and the rain, he glimpsed the white of Jaime's smile-\"kill his men.\"\n\n\"No!\" Ned Stark screamed, clawing for his sword. Jaime was already cantering off down the street as he heard Wyl shout. Men closed from both sides. Ned rode one down, cutting at phantoms in red cloaks who gave way before him. Jory Cassel put his heels into his mount and charged. A steel-shod hoof caught a Lannister guardsman in the face with a sickening crunch. A second man reeled away and for an instant Jory was free. Wyl cursed as they pulled him off his dying horse, swords slashing in the rain. Ned galloped to him, bringing his longsword down on Tregar's helm. The jolt of impact made him grit his teeth. Tregar stumbled to his knees, his lion crest sheared in half, blood running down his face. Heward was hacking at the hands that had seized his bridle when a spear caught him in the belly. Suddenly Jory was back among them, a red rain flying from his sword. \"No!\" Ned shouted. \"Jory, away!\" Ned's horse slipped under him and came crashing down in the mud. There was a moment of blinding pain and the taste of blood in his mouth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He saw them cut the legs from Jory's mount and drag him to the earth, swords rising and falling as they closed in around him. When Ned's horse lurched back to its feet, he tried to rise, only to fall again, choking on his scream. He could seethe splintered bone poking through his calf. It was the last thing he saw fora time. The rain came down and down and down.\n\nWhen he opened his eyes again, Lord Eddard Stark was alone with his dead. His horse moved closer, caught the rank scent of blood, and galloped away. Ned began to drag himself through the mud, gritting his teeth at the agony in his leg. It seemed to take years. Faces watched from candlelit windows, and people began to emerge from alleys and doors, but no one moved to help.\n\nLittlefinger and the City Watch found him therein the street, cradling Jory Cassel's body in his arms.\n\nSomewhere the gold cloaks found a litter, but the trip back to the castle was a blur of agony, and Ned lost consciousness more than once. He remembered seeing the Red Keep looming ahead of him in the first grey light of dawn. The rain had darkened the pale pink stone of the massive walls to the color of blood.\n\nThen Grand Maester Pycelle was looming over him, holding a cup, whispering, \"Drink, my lord. Here. The milk of the poppy, for your pain.\" He remembered swallowing, and Pycelle was telling someone to heat the wine to boiling and fetch him clean silk, and that was the last he knew."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Horse Gate of Vaes Dothrak was made of two gigantic bronze stallions, rearing, their hooves meeting a hundred feet above the roadway to form a pointed arch.\n\nDany could not have said why the city needed agate when it had no walls... and no buildings that she could see. Yet there it stood, immense and beautiful, the great horses framing the distant purple mountain beyond. The bronze stallions threw long shadows across the waving grasses as Khal Drogo led the khalasar under their hooves and down the godsway, his bloodriders beside him.\n\nDany followed on her silver, escorted by Ser Jorah Mormont and her brother Viserys, mounted once more. After the day in the grass when she had left him to walk back to the khalasar, the Dothraki had laughingly called him Khal Rhae Mhar, the Sorefoot King. Khal Drogo had offered him a place in a cart the next day, and Viserys had accepted. In his stubborn ignorance, he had not even known he was being mocked; the carts were for eunuchs, cripples, women giving birth, the very young and the very old. That won him yet another name: Khal Rhaggat, the Cart King. Her brother had thought it was the khal's way of apologizing for the wrong Dany had done him. She had begged Ser Jorah not to tell him the truth, lest he be shamed. The knight had replied that the king could well do with a bit of shame... yet he had done as she bid. It had taken much pleading, and all the pillow tricks Doreah had taught her, before Dany had been able to make Drogo relent and allow Viserys to rejoin them at the head of the column."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where is the city?\" she asked as they passed beneath the bronze arch. There were no buildings to be seen, no people, only the grass and the road, lined with ancient monuments from all the lands the Dothraki had sacked over the centuries.\n\n\"Ahead,\" Ser Jorah answered. \"Under the mountain.\"\n\nBeyond the horse gate, plundered gods and stolen heroes loomed to either side of them. The forgotten deities of dead cities brandished their broken thunderbolts at the sky as Dany rode her silver past their feet. Stone kings looked down on her from their thrones, their faces chipped and stained, even their names lost in the mists of time. Lithe young maidens danced on marble plinths, draped only in flowers, or poured air from shattered jars. Monsters stood in the grass beside the road; black iron dragons with jewels for eyes, roaring griffins, manticores with their barbed tails poised to strike, and other beasts she could not name. Some of the statues were so lovely they took her breath away, others so misshapen and terrible that Dany could scarcely bear to look at them. Those, Ser Jorah said, had likely come from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai.\n\n\"So many,\" she said as her silver stepped slowly onward, \"and from so many lands.\"\n\nViserys was less impressed. \"The trash of dead cities,\" he sneered. He was careful to speak in the Common Tongue, which few Dothraki could understand, yet even so Dany found herself glancing back at the men of her khas, to make certain he had not been overheard. He went on blithely. \"All these savages know how to do is steal the things better men have built... and kill.\" He laughed. \"They do know how to kill. Otherwise I'd have no use for them at all.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"They are my people now,\" Dany said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You should not call them savages, brother.\"\n\n\"The dragon speaks as he likes,\" Viserys said... in the Common Tongue. He glanced over his shoulder at Aggo and Rakharo, riding behind them, and favored them with a mocking smile. \"See, the savages lack the wit to understand the speech of civilized men.\" A moss-eaten stone monolith loomed over the road, fifty feet tall. Viserys gazed at it with boredom in his eyes. \"How long must we linger amidst these ruins before Drogo gives me my army? I grow tired of waiting.\"\n\n\"The princess must be presented to the dosh khaleen...\"\n\n\"The crones, yes,\" her brother interrupted, \"and there's to be some mummer's show of a prophecy for the whelp in her belly, you told me. What is that tome? I'm tired of eating horsemeat and I'm sick of the stink of these savages.\" He sniffed at the wide, floppy sleeve of his tunic, where it was his custom to keep a sachet. It could not have helped much. The tunic was filthy. All the silk and heavy wools that Viserys had worn out of Pentos were stained by hard travel and rotted from sweat.\n\nSer Jorah Mormont said, \"The Western Market will have food more to your taste, Your Grace. The traders from the Free Cities come thereto sell their wares. The khal will honor his promise in his own time.\"\n\n\"He had better,\" Viserys said grimly. \"I was promised a crown, and I mean to have it. The dragon is not mocked.\" Spying an obscene likeness of a woman with six breasts and a ferret's head, he rode off to inspect it more closely."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Dany was relieved, yet no less anxious."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I pray that my sun-and-stars will not keep him waiting too long,\" she told Ser Jorah when her brother was out of earshot.\n\nThe knight looked after Viserys doubtfully. \"Your brother should have bided his time in Pentos. There is no place for him in a khalasar. Illyrio tried to warn him.\"\n\n\"He will go as soon as he has his ten thousand. My lord husband promised a golden crown.\"\n\nSer Jorah grunted. \"Yes, Khaleesi, but... the Dothraki look on these things differently than we do in the west. I have told him as much, as Illyrio told him, but your brother does not listen. The horselords are no traders. Viserys thinks he sold you, and now he wants his price. Yet Khal Drogo would say he had you as a gift. He will give Viserys a gift in return, yes... in his own time. You do not demand a gift, not of a khal. You do not demand anything of a khal.\"\n\n\"It is not right to make him wait.\" Dany did not know why she was defending her brother, yet she was. \"Viserys says he could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers.\"\n\nSer Jorah snorted. \"Viserys could not sweep a stable with ten thousand brooms.\"\n\nDany could not pretend to surprise at the disdain in his tone. \"What... what if it were not Viserys?\" she asked. \"If it were someone else who led them? Someone stronger? Could the Dothraki truly conquer the Seven Kingdoms?\"\n\nSer Jorah's face grew thoughtful as their horses trod together down the godsway. \"When I first went into exile, I looked at the Dothraki and saw half-naked barbarians, as wild as their horses. If you had asked me then, Princess, I should have told you that a thousand good knights would have no trouble putting to flight a hundred times as many Dothraki.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But if I asked you now?\"\n\n\"Now,\" the knight said, \"I am less certain. They are better riders than any knight, utterly fearless, and their bows outrange ours. In the Seven Kingdoms, most archers fight on foot, from behind a shieldwall or a barricade of sharpened stakes. The Dothraki fire from horseback, charging or retreating, it makes no matter, they are full as deadly... and there are so many of them, my lady. Your lord husband alone counts forty thousand mounted warriors in his khalasar.\"\n\n\"Is that truly so many?\"\n\n\"Your brother Rhaegar brought as many men to the Trident,\" Ser Jorah admitted, \"but of that number, no more than a tenth were knights. The rest were archers, freeriders, and foot soldiers armed with spears and pikes. When Rhaegar fell, many threw down their weapons and fled the field. How long do you imagine such a rabble would stand against the charge of forty thousand screamers howling for blood? How well would boiled leather jerkins and mailed shirts protect them when the arrows fall like rain?\"\n\n\"Not long,\" she said, \"not well.\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Mind you, Princess, if the lords of the Seven Kingdoms have the wit the gods gave a goose, it will never come to that. The riders have no taste for siegecraft. I doubt they could take even the weakest castle in the Seven Kingdoms, but if Robert Baratheon were fool enough to give them battle...\"\n\n\"Is he?\" Dany asked. \"A fool, I mean?\"\n\nSer Jorah considered that fora moment. \"Robert should have been born Dothraki,\" he said at last. \"Your khal would tell you that only a coward hides behind stonewalls instead of facing his enemy with a blade in hand. The Usurper would agree. He is a strongman, brave... and rash enough to meet a Dothraki horde in the open field. But the men around him, well, their pipers play a different tune. His brother Stannis, Lord Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark...\" He spat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You hate this Lord Stark,\" Dany said.\n\n\"He took from me all I loved, for the sake of a few lice-ridden poachers and his precious honor,\" Ser Jorah said bitterly. From his tone, she could tell the loss still pained him. He changed the subject quickly. \"There,\" he announced, pointing. \"Vaes Dothrak. The city of the horselords.\"\n\nKhal Drogo and his bloodriders led them through the great bazaar of the Western Market, down the broad ways beyond. Dany followed close on her silver, staring at the strangeness about her. Vaes Dothrak was at once the largest city and the smallest that she had ever known. She thought it must be ten times as large as Pentos, a vastness without walls or limits, its broad windswept streets paved in grass and mud and carpeted with wildflowers. In the Free Cities of the west, towers and manses and hovels and bridges and shops and halls all crowded in on one another, but Vaes Dothrak sprawled languorously, baking in the warm sun, ancient, arrogant, and empty.\n\nEven the buildings were so queer to her eyes. She saw carved stone pavilions, manses of woven grass as large as castles, rickety wooden towers, stepped pyramids faced with marble, log halls open to the sky. In place of walls, some palaces were surrounded by thorny hedges. \"None of them are alike,\" she said.\n\n\"Your brother had part of the truth,\" Ser Jorah admitted. \"The Dothraki do not build. A thousand years ago, to make a house, they would dig a hole in the earth and cover it with a woven grass roof. The buildings you see were made by slaves brought here from lands they've plundered, and they built each after the fashion of their own peoples.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Most of the halls, even the largest, seemed deserted."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where are the people who live here?\" Dany asked. The bazaar had been full of running children and men shouting, but elsewhere she had seen only a few eunuchs going about their business.\n\n\"Only the crones of the dosh khaleen dwell permanently in the sacred city, them and their slaves and servants,\" Ser Jorah replied, \"yet Vaes Dothrak is large enough to house every man of every khalasar, should all the khals return to the Mother at once. The crones have prophesied that one day that will come to pass, and so Vaes Dothrak must be ready to embrace all its children.\"\n\nKhal Drogo finally called a halt near the Eastern Market where the caravans from Yi Ti and Asshai and the Shadow Lands came to trade, with the Mother of Mountains looming overhead. Dany smiled as she recalled Magister Illyrio's slave girl and her talk of a palace with two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver. The'palace\" was a cavernous wooden feasting hall, its rough-hewn timbered walls rising forty feet, its roof sewn silk, avast billowing tent that could be raised to keep out the rare rains, or lowered to admit the endless sky. Around the hall were broad grassy horse yards fenced with high hedges, firepits, and hundreds of round earthen houses that bulged from the ground like miniature hills, covered with grass.\n\nA small army of slaves had gone ahead to prepare for Khal Drogo's arrival. As each rider swung down from his saddle, he unbelted his arakh and handed it to awaiting slave, and any other weapons he carried as well. Even Khal Drogo himself was not exempt. Ser Jorah had explained that it was forbidden to carry a blade in Vaes Dothrak, or to shed a freeman's blood. Even warring khalasars put aside their feuds and shared meat and mead together when they were insight of the Mother of Mountains. In this place, the crones of the dosh khaleen had decreed, all Dothraki were one blood, one khalasar, one herd."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Cohollo came to Dany as Irri and Jhiqui were helping her down off her silver."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was the oldest of Drogo's three bloodriders, a squat bald man with a crooked nose and a mouth full of broken teeth, shattered by a mace twenty years before when he saved the young khalakka from sellswords who hoped to sell him to his father's enemies. His life had been bound to Drogo's the day her lord husband was born.\n\nEvery khal had his bloodriders. At first Dany had thought of them as a kind of Dothraki Kingsguard, sworn to protect their lord, but it went further than that. Jhiqui had taught her that a bloodrider was more than a guard; they were the khal's brothers, his shadows, his fiercest friends. \"Blood of my blood,\" Drogo called them, and so it was; they shared a single life. The ancient traditions of the horselords demanded that when the khal died, his bloodriders died with him, to ride at his side in the night lands. If the khal died at the hands of some enemy, they lived only long enough to avenge him, and then followed him joyfully into the grave. In some khalasars, Jhiqui said, the bloodriders shared the khal's wine, his tent, and even his wives, though never his horses. A man's mount was his own.\n\nDaenerys was glad that Khal Drogo did not hold to those ancient ways. She should not have liked being shared. And while old Cohollo treated her kindly enough, the others frightened her; Haggo, huge and silent, often glowered as if he had forgotten who she was, and Qotho had cruel eyes and quick hands that liked to hurt. He left bruises on Doreah's soft white skin whenever he touched her, and sometimes made Irri sob in the night. Even his horses seemed to fear him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet they were bound to Drogo for life and death, so Daenerys had no choice but to accept them. And sometimes she found herself wishing her father had been protected by such men. In the songs, the white knights of the Kingsguard were ever noble, valiant, and true, and yet King Aerys had been murdered by one of them, the handsome boy they now called the Kingslayer, and a second, Ser Barristan the Bold, had gone over to the Usurper. She wondered if all men were as false in the Seven Kingdoms. When her son sat the Iron Throne, she would see that he had bloodriders of his own to protect him against treachery in his Kingsguard.\n\n\"Khaleesi,\" Cohollo said to her, in Dothraki. \"Drogo, who is blood of my blood, commands me to tell you that he must ascend the Mother of Mountains this night, to sacrifice to the gods for his safe return.\"\n\nOnly men were allowed to set foot on the Mother, Dany knew. The khal's bloodriders would go with him, and return at dawn. \"Tell my sun-and-stars that I dream of him, and wait anxious for his return,\" she replied, thankful. Dany tired more easily as the child grew within her; in truth, a night of rest would be most welcome. Her pregnancy only seemed to have inflamed Drogo's desire for her, and of late his embraces left her exhausted.\n\nDoreah led her to the hollow hill that had been prepared for her and her khal. It was cool and dim within, like a tent made of earth. \"Jhiqui, a bath, please,\" she commanded, to wash the dust of travel from her skin and soak her weary bones. It was pleasant to know that they would linger here fora while, that she would not need to climb back on her silver on the morrow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The water was scalding hot, as she liked it."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will give my brother his gifts tonight,\" she decided as Jhiqui was washing her hair. \"He should look a king in the sacred city. Doreah, run and find him and invite him to sup with me.\" Viserys was nicer to the Lysene girl than to her Dothraki handmaids, perhaps because Magister Illyrio had let him bed her back in Pentos. \"Irri, go to the bazaar and buy fruit and meat. Anything but horseflesh.\"\n\n\"Horse is best,\" Irri said. \"Horse makes a man strong.\"\n\n\"Viserys hates horsemeat.\"\n\n\"As you say, Khaleesi.\"\n\nShe brought back a haunch of goat and a basket of fruits and vegetables. Jhiqui roasted the meat with sweetgrass and firepods, basting it with honey as it cooked, and there were melons and pomegranates and plums and some queer eastern fruit Dany did not know. While her handmaids prepared the meal, Dany laid out the clothing she'd had made to her brother's measure: a tunic and leggings of crisp white linen, leather sandals that laced up to the knee, a bronze medallion belt, a leather vest painted with fire-breathing dragons. The Dothraki would respect him more if he looked less a beggar, she hoped, and perhaps he would forgive her for shaming him that day in the grass. He was still her king, after all, and her brother. They were both blood of the dragon.\n\nShe was arranging the last of his gifts-a sandsilk cloak, green as grass, with a pale grey border that would bring out the silver in his hair-when Viserys arrived, dragging Doreah by the arm. Her eye was red where he'd hither. \"How dare you send this whore to give me commands,\" he said. He shoved the handmaid roughly to the carpet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The anger took Dany utterly by surprise. \"I only wanted... Doreah, what did you say?\"\n\n\"Khaleesi, pardons, forgive me. I went to him, as you bid, and told him you commanded him to join you for supper.\"\n\n\"No one commands the dragon,\" Viserys snarled. \"I am your king! I should have sent you back her head!\"\n\nThe Lysene girl quailed, but Dany calmed her with a touch. \"Don't be afraid, he won't hurt you. Sweet brother, please, forgive her, the girl misspoke herself, I told her to ask you to sup with me, if it pleases Your Grace.\" She took him by the hand and drew him across the room. \"Look. These are for you.\"\n\nViserys frowned suspiciously. \"What is all this?\"\n\n\"New raiment. I had it made for you.\" Dany smiled shyly.\n\nHe looked at her and sneered. \"Dothraki rags. Do you presume to dress me now?\"\n\n\"Please... you'll be cooler and more comfortable, and I thought... maybe if you dressed like them, the Dothraki...\" Dany did not know how to say it without waking his dragon.\n\n\"Next you'll want to braid my hair.\"\n\n\"I'd never...\" Why was he always so cruel? She had only wanted to help. \"You have no right to a braid, you have won no victories yet.\"\n\nIt was the wrong thing to say. Fury shone from his lilac eyes, yet he dared not strike her, not with her handmaids watching and the warriors of her khas outside. Viserys picked up the cloak and sniffed at it. \"This stinks of manure. Perhaps I shall use it as a horse blanket.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 39"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The anger took Dany utterly by surprise. \"I only wanted... Doreah, what did you say?\"\n\n\"Khaleesi, pardons, forgive me. I went to him, as you bid, and told him you commanded him to join you for supper.\"\n\n\"No one commands the dragon,\" Viserys snarled. \"I am your king! I should have sent you back her head!\"\n\nThe Lysene girl quailed, but Dany calmed her with a touch. \"Don't be afraid, he won't hurt you. Sweet brother, please, forgive her, the girl misspoke herself, I told her to ask you to sup with me, if it pleases Your Grace.\" She took him by the hand and drew him across the room. \"Look. These are for you.\"\n\nViserys frowned suspiciously. \"What is all this?\"\n\n\"New raiment. I had it made for you.\" Dany smiled shyly.\n\nHe looked at her and sneered. \"Dothraki rags. Do you presume to dress me now?\"\n\n\"Please... you'll be cooler and more comfortable, and I thought... maybe if you dressed like them, the Dothraki...\" Dany did not know how to say it without waking his dragon.\n\n\"Next you'll want to braid my hair.\"\n\n\"I'd never...\" Why was he always so cruel? She had only wanted to help. \"You have no right to a braid, you have won no victories yet.\"\n\nIt was the wrong thing to say. Fury shone from his lilac eyes, yet he dared not strike her, not with her handmaids watching and the warriors of her khas outside. Viserys picked up the cloak and sniffed at it. \"This stinks of manure. Perhaps I shall use it as a horse blanket.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I had Doreah sew it specially for you,\" she told him, wounded."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"These are garments fit fora khal.\"\n\n\"I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, not some grass-stained savage with bells in his hair,\" Viserys spat back at her. He grabbed her arm. \"You forget yourself, slut. Do you think that big belly will protect you if you wake the dragon?\"\n\nHis fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached outwith her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she'd hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.\n\nIt caught him full in the face. Viserys let goof her. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of one of the medallions had sliced it open. \"You are the one who forgets himself,\" Dany said to him. \"Didn't you learn anything that day in the grass? Leave me now, before I summon my khas to drag you out. And pray that Khal Drogo does not hear of this, or he will cut open your belly and feed you your own entrails.\"\n\nViserys scrambled back to his feet. \"When I come into my kingdom, you will rue this day, slut.\" He walked off, holding his torn face, leaving her gifts behind him.\n\nDrops of his blood had spattered the beautiful sandsilk cloak. Dany clutched the soft cloth to her cheek and sat cross-legged on her sleeping mats.\n\n\"Your supper is ready, Khaleesi,\" Jhiqui announced.\n\n\"I'm not hungry,\" Dany said sadly. She was suddenly very tired. \"Share the food among yourselves, and send some to Ser Jorah, if you would.\" After a moment she added, \"Please, bring me one of the dragon's eggs.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Irri fetched the egg with the deep green shell, bronze flecks shining amid its scales as she turned it in her small hands. Dany curled upon her side, pulling the sandsilk cloak across her and cradling the egg in the hollow between her swollen belly and small, tender breasts. She liked to hold them. They were so beautiful, and sometimes just being close to them made her feel stronger, braver, as if somehow she were drawing strength from the stone dragons locked inside.\n\nShe was lying there, holding the egg, when she felt the child move within her... as if he were reaching out, brother to brother, blood to blood. \"You are the dragon,\" Dany whispered to him, \"the true dragon. I know it. I know it.\" And she smiled, and went to sleep dreaming of home."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Alight snow was falling. Bran could feel the flakes on his face, melting as they touched his skin like the gentlest of rains. He sat straight atop his horse, watching as the iron portcullis was winched upward. Try as he might to keep calm, his heart was fluttering in his chest.\n\n\"Are you ready?\" Robb asked.\n\nBran nodded, trying not to let his fear show. He had not been outside Winterfell since his fall, but he was determined to ride out as proud as any knight.\n\n\"Let's ride, then.\" Robb put his heels into his big grey-and-white gelding, and the horse walked under the portcullis.\n\n\"Go,\" Bran whispered to his own horse. He touched her neck lightly, and the small chestnut filly started forward. Bran had named her Dancer. She was two years old, and Joseth said she was smarter than any horse had aright to be. They had trained her special, to respond to rein and voice and touch. Up to now, Bran had only ridden her around the yard. At first Joseth or Hodor would lead her, while Bran sat strapped to her back in the oversize saddle the Imp had drawn up for him, but for the past fortnight he had been riding heron his own, trotting her round and round, and growing bolder with every circuit.\n\nThey passed beneath the gatehouse, over the drawbridge, through the outer walls. Summer and Grey Wind came loping beside them, sniffing at the wind. Close behind came Theon Greyjoy, with his longbow and a quiver of broadheads; he had a mind to take a deer, he had told them. He was followed by four guardsmen in mailed shirts and coifs, and Joseth, a stick-thin stableman whom Robb had named master of horse while Hullen was away. Maester Luwin brought up the rear, riding on a donkey. Bran would have liked it better if he and Robb had gone off alone, just the two of them, but Hal Mollen would not hear of it, and Maester Luwin backed him. If Bran fell off his horse or injured himself, the maester was determined to be with him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Beyond the castle lay the market square, its wooden stalls deserted now."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They rode down the muddy streets of the village, past rows of small neat houses of log and undressed stone. Less than one in five were occupied, thin tendrils of woodsmoke curling up from their chimneys. The rest would fill up one by one as it grew colder. When the snow fell and the ice winds howled down out of the north, Old Nan said, farmers left their frozen fields and distant holdfasts, loaded up their wagons, and then the winter town came alive. Bran had never seen it happen, but Maester Luwin said the day was looming closer. The end of the long summer was near at hand. Winter is coming.\n\nA few villagers eyed the direwolves anxiously as the riders went past, and one man dropped the wood he was carrying as he shrank away in fear, but most of the town-folk had grown used to the sight. They bent the knee when they saw the boys, and Robb greeted each of them with a lordly nod.\n\nWith his legs unable to grip, the swaying motion of the horse made Bran feel unsteady at first, but the huge saddle with its thick horn and high back cradled him comfortingly, and the straps around his chest and thighs would not allow him to fall. After a time the rhythm began to feel almost natural. His anxiety faded, and a tremulous smile crept across his face.\n\nTwo serving wenches stood beneath the sign of the Smoking Log, the local alehouse. When Theon Greyjoy called out to them, the younger girl turned red and covered her face. Theon spurred his mount to move up beside Robb. \"Sweet Kyra,\" he said with a laugh. \"She squirms like a weasel in bed, but say a word to heron the street, and she blushes pink as a maid. Did I ever tell you about the night that she and Bessa-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Not where my brother can hear, Theon,\" Robb warned him with a glance at Bran.\n\nBran looked away and pretended not to have heard, but he could feel Greyjoy's eyes on him. No doubt he was smiling. He smiled a lot, as if the world were a secret joke that only he was clever enough to understand. Robb seemed to admire Theon and enjoy his company, but Bran had never warmed to his father's ward.\n\nRobb rode closer. \"You are doing well, Bran.\"\n\n\"I want to go faster,\" Bran replied.\n\nRobb smiled. \"As you will.\" He sent his gelding into a trot. The wolves raced after him. Bran snapped the reins sharply, and Dancer picked up her pace. He heard a shout from Theon Greyjoy, and the hoofbeats of the other horses behind him.\n\nBran's cloak billowed out, rippling in the wind, and the snow seemed to rush at his face. Robb was well ahead, glancing back over his shoulder from time to time to make sure Bran and the others were following. He snapped the reins again. Smooth as silk, Dancer slid into a gallop. The distance closed. By the time he caught Robb on the edge of the wolfswood, two miles beyond the winter town, they had left the others well behind. \"I can ride!\" Bran shouted, grinning. It felt almost as good as flying.\n\n\"I'd race you, but I fear you'd win.\" Robb's tone was light and joking, yet Bran could tell that something was troubling his brother underneath the smile.\n\n\"I don't want to race.\" Bran looked around for the direwolves. Both had vanished into the wood. \"Did you hear Summer howling last night?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Grey Wind was restless too,\" Robb said. His auburn hair had grown shaggy and unkempt, and a reddish stubble covered his jaw, making him look older than his fifteen years. \"Sometimes I think they know things... sense things...\" Robb sighed. \"I never know how much to tell you, Bran. I wish you were older.\"\n\n\"I'm eight now!\" Bran said. \"Eight isn't so much younger than fifteen, and I'm the heir to Winterfell, after you.\"\n\n\"So you are.\" Robb sounded sad, and even a little scared. \"Bran, I need to tell you something. There was a bird last night. From King's Landing. Maester Luwin woke me.\"\n\nBran felt a sudden dread. Dark wings, dark words, Old Nan always said, and of late the messenger ravens had been proving the truth of the proverb. When Robb wrote to the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, the bird that came back brought word that Uncle Benjen was still missing. Then a message had arrived from the Eyrie, from Mother, but that had not been good news either. She did not say when she meant to return, only that she had taken the Imp as prisoner. Bran had sort of liked the little man, yet the name Lannister sent cold fingers creeping up his spine. There was something about the Lannisters, something he ought to remember, but when he tried to think what, he felt dizzy and his stomach clenched hard as a stone. Robb spent most of that day locked behind closed doors with Maester Luwin, Theon Greyjoy, and Hallis Mollen. Afterward, riders were sent out on fast horses, carrying Robb's commands throughout the north. Bran heard talk of Moat Cailin, the ancient stronghold the First Men had built at the top of the Neck. No one ever told him what was happening, yet he knew it was not good."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And now another raven, another message. Bran clung to hope. \"Was the bird from Mother? Is she coming home?\"\n\n\"The message was from Alyn in King's Landing. Jory Cassel is dead. And Wyl and Heward as well. Murdered by the Kingslayer.\" Robb lifted his face to the snow, and the flakes melted on his cheeks. \"May the gods give them rest.\"\n\nBran did not know what to say. He felt as if he'd been punched. Jory had been captain of the household guard at Winterfell since before Bran was born. \"They killed Jory?\" He remembered all the times Jory had chased him over the roofs. He could picture him striding across the yard in mail and plate, or sitting at his accustomed place on the bench in the Great Hall, joking as he ate. \"Why would anyone kill Jory?\"\n\nRobb shook his head numbly, the pain plain in his eyes. \"I don't know, and... Bran, that's not the worst of it. Father was caught beneath a falling horse in the fight. Alyn says his leg was shattered, and... Maester Pycelle has given him the milk of the poppy, but they aren't sure when... when he...\" The sound of hoofbeats made him glance down the road, to where Theon and the others were coming up. \"When he will wake,\" Robb finished. He laid his hand on the pommel of his sword then, and went on in the solemn voice of Robb the Lord. \"Bran, I promise you, whatever might happen, I will not let this be forgotten.\"\n\nSomething in his tone made Bran even more fearful. \"What will you do?\" he asked as Theon Greyjoy reined in beside them.\n\n\"Theon thinks I should call the banners,\" Robb said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Blood for blood.\" For once Greyjoy did not smile. His lean, dark face had a hungry look to it, and black hair fell down across his eyes.\n\n\"Only the lord can call the banners,\" Bran said as the snow drifted down around them.\n\n\"If your father dies,\" Theon said, \"Robb will be Lord of Winterfell.\"\n\n\"He won't die!\" Bran screamed at him.\n\nRobb took his hand. \"He won't die, not Father,\" he said calmly. \"Still... the honor of the north is in my hands now. When our lord father took his leave of us, he told me to be strong for you and for Rickon. I'm almost a man grown, Bran.\"\n\nBran shivered. \"I wish Mother was back,\" he said miserably. He looked around for Maester Luwin; his donkey was visible in the far distance, trotting over arise. \"Does Maester Luwin say to call the banners too?\"\n\n\"The maester is timid as an old woman,\" said Theon.\n\n\"Father always listened to his counsel,\" Bran reminded his brother. \"Mother too.\"\n\n\"I listen to him,\" Robb insisted. \"I listen to everyone.\"\n\nThe joy Bran had felt at the ride was gone, melted away like the snowflakes on his face. Not so long ago, the thought of Robb calling the banners and riding off to war would have filled him with excitement, but now he felt only dread. \"Can we go back now?\" he asked. \"I'm cold.\"\n\nRobb glanced around. \"We need to find the wolves. Can you stand to go a bit longer?\"\n\n\"I can go as long as you can.\" Maester Luwin had warned him to keep the ride short, for fear of saddle sores, but Bran would not admit to weakness in front of his brother. He was sick of the way everyone was always fussing over him and asking how he was."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Let's hunt down the hunters, then,\" Robb said. Side by side, they urged their mounts off the kingsroad and struck out into the wolfswood. Theon dropped back and followed well behind them, talking and joking with the guardsmen.\n\nIt was nice under the trees. Bran kept Dancer to a walk, holding the reins lightly and looking all around him as they went. He knew this wood, but he had been so long confined to Winterfell that he felt as though he were seeing it for the first time. The smells filled his nostrils; the sharp fresh tang of pine needles, the earthy odor of wet rotting leaves, the hints of animal musk and distant cooking fires. He caught a glimpse of a black squirrel moving through the snow-covered branches of an oak, and paused to study the silvery web of an empress spider.\n\nTheon and the others fell farther and farther behind, until Bran could no longer hear their voices. From ahead came the faint sound of rushing waters. It grew louder until they reached the stream. Tears stung his eyes.\n\n\"Bran?\" Robb asked. \"What's wrong?\"\n\nBran shook his head. \"I was just remembering,\" he said. \"Jory brought us here once, to fish for trout. You and me and Jon. Do you remember?\"\n\n\"I remember,\" Robb said, his voice quiet and sad.\n\n\"I didn't catch anything,\" Bran said, \"but Jon gave me his fish on the way back to Winterfell. Will we ever see Jon again?\"\n\n\"We saw Uncle Benjen when the king came to visit,\" Robb pointed out. \"Jon will visit too, you'll see.\"\n\nThe stream was running high and fast. Robb dismounted and led his gelding across the ford. In the deepest part of the crossing, the water came up to midthigh. He tied his horse to a tree on the far side, and waded back across for Bran and Dancer. The current foamed around rock and root, and Bran could feel the spray on his face as Robb led him over. It made him smile. Fora moment he felt strong again, and whole. He looked up at the trees and dreamed of climbing them, right up to the very top, with the whole forest spread out beneath him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were on the far side when they heard the howl, along rising wail that moved through the trees like a cold wind. Bran raised his head to listen. \"Summer,\" he said. No sooner had he spoken than a second voice joined the first.\n\n\"They've made a kill,\" Robb said as he remounted, \"I'd best go and bring them back. Wait here, Theon and the others should be along shortly.\"\n\n\"I want to go with you,\" Bran said.\n\n\"I'll find them faster by myself.\" Robb spurred his gelding and vanished into the trees.\n\nOnce he was gone, the woods seemed to close in around Bran. The snow was falling more heavily now. Where it touched the ground it melted, but all about him rock and root and branch wore a thin blanket of white. Ashe waited, he was conscious of how uncomfortable he felt. He could not feel his legs, hanging useless in the stirrups, but the strap around his chest was tight and chafing, and the melting snow had soaked through his gloves to chill his hands. He wondered what was keeping Theon and Maester Luwin and Joseth and the rest.\n\nWhen he heard the rustle of leaves, Bran used the reins to make Dancer turn, expecting to see his friends, but the ragged men who stepped out onto the bank of the stream were strangers.\n\n\"Good day to you,\" he said nervously. One look, and Bran knew they were neither foresters nor farmers. He was suddenly conscious of how richly he was dressed. His surcoat was new, dark grey wool with silver buttons, and a heavy silver pin fastened his fur-trimmed cloak at the shoulders. His boots and gloves were lined with fur as well.\n\n\"All alone, are you?\" said the biggest of them, a bald man with a raw windburnt face. \"Lost in the wolfswood, poor lad.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'm not lost.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bran did not like the way the strangers were looking at him. He counted four, but when he turned his head, he saw two others behind him. \"My brother rode off just a moment ago, and my guard will be here shortly.\"\n\n\"Your guard, is it?\" a second man said. Grey stubble covered his gaunt face. \"And what would they be guarding, my little lord? Is that a silver pin I see thereon your cloak?\"\n\n\"Pretty,\" said a woman's voice. She scarcely looked like a woman; tall and lean, with the same hard face as the others, her hair hidden beneath a bowl-shaped halfhelm. The spear she held was eight feet of black oak, tipped in rusted steel.\n\n\"Let's have a look,\" said the big bald man.\n\nBran watched him anxiously. The man's clothes were filthy, fallen almost to pieces, patched herewith brown and herewith blue and therewith a dark green, and faded everywhere to grey, but once that cloak might have been black. The grey stubbly man wore black rags too, he saw with a sudden start. Suddenly Bran remembered the oathbreaker his father had beheaded, the day they had found the wolf pups; that man had worn black as well, and Father said he had been a deserter from the Night's Watch. No man is more dangerous, he remembered Lord Eddard saying. The deserter knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile or cruel.\n\n\"The pin, lad,\" the big man said. He held out his hand.\n\n\"We'll take the horse too,\" said another of them, a woman shorter than Robb, with abroad flat face and lank yellow hair. \"Get down, and be quick about it.\" A knife slid from her sleeve into her hand, its edge jagged as a saw."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No,\" Bran blurted."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I can't...\"\n\nThe big man grabbed his reins before Bran could think to wheel Dancer around and gallop off. \"You can, lordling... and will, if you know what's good for you.\"\n\n\"Stiv, look how he's strapped on.\" The tall woman pointed with her spear. \"Might be it's the truth he's telling.\"\n\n\"Straps, is it?\" Stiv said. He drew a dagger from a sheath at his belt. \"There's ways to deal with straps.\"\n\n\"You some kind of cripple?\" asked the short woman.\n\nBran flared. \"I'm Brandon Stark of Winterfell, and you better let goof my horse, or I'll see you all dead.\"\n\nThe gaunt man with the grey stubbled face laughed. \"The boy's a Stark, true enough. Only a Stark would be fool enough to threaten where smarter men would beg.\"\n\n\"Cut his little cock off and stuff it in his mouth,\" suggested the short woman. \"That should shut him up.\"\n\n\"You're as stupid as you are ugly, Hali,\" said the tall woman. \"The boy's worth nothing dead, but alive... gods be damned, think what Mance would give to have Benjen Stark's own blood to hostage!\"\n\n\"Mance be damned,\" the big man cursed. \"You want to go back there, Osha? More fool you. Think the white walkers will care if you have a hostage?\" He turned back to Bran and slashed at the strap around his thigh. The leather parted with a sigh.\n\nThe stroke had been quick and careless, biting deep. Looking down, Bran glimpsed pale flesh where the wool of his leggings had parted. Then the blood began to flow. He watched the red stain spread, feeling light-headed, curiously apart; there had been no pain, not even a hint of feeling. The big man grunted in surprise."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Put down your steel now, and I promise you shall have a quick and painless death,\" Robb called out.\n\nBran looked up in desperate hope, and there he was. The strength of the words were undercut by the way his voice cracked with strain. He was mounted, the bloody carcass of an elk slung across the back of his horse, his sword in a gloved hand.\n\n\"The brother,\" said the man with the grey stubbly face.\n\n\"He's a fierce one, he is,\" mocked the short woman. Hali, they called her. \"You mean to fight us, boy?\"\n\n\"Don't be a fool, lad. You're one against six.\" The tall woman, Osha, leveled her spear. \"Off the horse, and throw down the sword. We'll thank you kindly for the mount and for the venison, and you and your brother can be on your way.\"\n\nRobb whistled. They heard the faint sound of soft feet on wet leaves. The undergrowth parted, low-hanging branches giving up their accumulation of snow, and Grey Wind and Summer emerged from the green. Summer sniffed the air and growled.\n\n\"Wolves,\" gasped Hali.\n\n\"Direwolves,\" Bran said. Still half-grown, they were as large as any wolf he had ever seen, but the differences were easy to spot, if you knew what to look for. Maester Luwin and Farlen the kennelmaster had taught him. A direwolf had a bigger head and longer legs in proportion to its body, and its snout and jaw were markedly leaner and more pronounced. There was something gaunt and terrible about them as they stood there amid the gently falling snow. Fresh blood spotted Grey Wind's muzzle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Dogs,\" the big bald man said contemptuously. \"Yet I'm told there's nothing like a wolfskin cloak to warm a man by night.\" He made a sharp gesture. \"Take them.\"\n\nRobb shouted, \"Winterfell!\" and kicked his horse. The gelding plunged down the bank as the ragged men closed. A man with an axe rushed in, shouting and heedless. Robb's sword caught him full in the face with a sickening crunch and a spray of bright blood. The man with the gaunt stubbly face made a grab for the reins, and for half a second he had them... and then Grey Wind was on him, bearing him down. He fell back into the stream with a splash and a shout, flailing wildly with his knife as his head went under. The direwolf plunged in after him, and the whitewater turned red where they had vanished.\n\nRobb and Osha matched blows in midstream. Her long spear was a steel-headed serpent, flashing out at his chest, once, twice, three times, but Robb parried every thrust with his longsword, turning the point aside. On the fourth or fifth thrust, the tall woman overextended herself and lost her balance, just fora second. Robb charged, riding her down.\n\nA few feet away, Summer darted in and snapped at Hali. The knife bit at his flank. Summer slid away, snarling, and came rushing in again. This time his jaws closed around her calf. Holding the knife with both hands, the small woman stabbed down, but the direwolf seemed to sense the blade coming. He pulled free for an instant, his mouth full of leather and cloth and bloody flesh. When Hali stumbled and fell, he came at her again, slamming her backward, teeth tearing at her belly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The sixth man ran from the carnage... but not far. Ashe went scrambling up the far side of the bank, Grey Wind emerged from the stream, dripping wet. He shook the water off and bounded after the running man, hamstringing him with a single snap of his teeth, and going for the throat as the screaming man slid back down toward the water.\n\nAnd then there was no one left but the big man, Stiv. He slashed at Bran's chest strap, grabbed his arm, and yanked. Suddenly Bran was falling. He sprawled on the ground, his legs tangled under him, one foot in the stream. He could not feel the cold of the water, but he felt the steel when Stiv pressed his dagger to his throat. \"Back away,\" the man warned, \"or I'll open the boy's windpipe, I swear it.\"\n\nRobb reined his horse in, breathing hard. The fury went out of his eyes, and his sword arm dropped.\n\nIn that moment Bran saw everything. Summer was savaging Hali, pulling glistening blue snakes from her belly. Her eyes were wide and staring. Bran could not tell whether she was alive or dead. The grey stubbly man and the one with the axe lay unmoving, but Osha was on her knees, crawling toward her fallen spear. Grey Wind padded toward her, dripping wet. \"Call him off!\" the big man shouted. \"Call them both off, or the cripple boy dies now!\"\n\n\"Grey Wind, Summer, tome,\" Robb said.\n\nThe direwolves stopped, turned their heads. Grey Wind loped back to Robb. Summer stayed where he was, his eyes on Bran and the man beside him. He growled. His muzzle was wet and red, but his eyes burned."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Osha used the butt end of her spear to lever herself back to her feet. Blood leaked from a wound on the upper arm where Robb had cut her. Bran could see sweat trickling down the big man's face. Stiv was as scared as he was, he realized. \"Starks,\" the man muttered, \"bloody Starks.\" He raised his voice. \"Osha, kill the wolves and get his sword.\"\n\n\"Kill them yourself,\" she replied. \"I'll not begetting near those monsters.\"\n\nFora moment Stiv was at a loss. His hand trembled; Bran felt a trickle of blood where the knife pressed against his neck. The stench of the man filled his nose; he smelled of fear. \"You,\" he called out to Robb. \"You have a name?\"\n\n\"I am Robb Stark, the heir to Winterfell.\"\n\n\"This is your brother?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"You want him alive, you do what I say. Off the horse.\"\n\nRobb hesitated a moment. Then, slowly and deliberately, he dismounted and stood with his sword in hand.\n\n\"Now kill the wolves.\"\n\nRobb did not move.\n\n\"You do it. The wolves or the boy.\"\n\n\"No!\" Bran screamed. If Robb did as they asked, Stiv would kill them both anyway, once the direwolves were dead.\n\nThe bald man took hold of his hair with his freehand and twisted it cruelly, till Bran sobbed in pain. \"You shut your mouth, cripple, you hear me?\" He twisted harder. \"You hear me?\"\n\nA low thrum came from the woods behind them. Stiv gave a choked gasp as a half foot of razor-tipped broadhead suddenly exploded out of his chest. The arrow was bright red, as if it had been painted in blood."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The dagger fell away from Bran's throat. The big man swayed and collapsed, facedown in the stream. The arrow broke beneath him. Bran watched his life go swirling off in the water.\n\nOsha glanced around as Father's guardsmen appeared from beneath the trees, steel in hand. She threw down her spear. \"Mercy, m'lord,\" she called to Robb.\n\nThe guardsmen had a strange, pale look to their faces as they took in the scene of slaughter. They eyed the wolves uncertainly, and when Summer returned to Hali's corpse to feed, Joseth dropped his knife and scrambled for the bush, heaving. Even Maester Luwin seemed shocked as he stepped from behind a tree, but only for an instant. Then he shook his head and waded across the stream to Bran's side. \"Are you hurt?\"\n\n\"He cut my leg,\" Bran said, \"but I couldn't feel it.\"\n\nAs the maester knelt to examine the wound, Bran turned his head. Theon Greyjoy stood beside a sentinel tree, his bow in hand. He was smiling. Ever smiling. A half-dozen arrows were thrust into the soft ground at his feet, but it had taken only one. \"A dead enemy is a thing of beauty,\" he announced.\n\n\"Jon always said you were an ass, Greyjoy,\" Robb said loudly. \"I ought to chain you up in the yard and let Bran take a few practice shots at you.\"\n\n\"You should be thanking me for saving your brother's life.\"\n\n\"What if you had missed the shot?\" Robb said. \"What if you'd only wounded him? What if you had made his hand jump, or hit Bran instead? For all you knew, the man might have been wearing a breastplate, all you could see was the back of his cloak. What would have happened to my brother then? Did you ever think of that, Greyjoy?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Theon's smile was gone. He gave a sullen shrug and began to pull his arrows from the ground, one by one.\n\nRobb glared at his guardsmen. \"Where were you?\" he demanded of them. \"I was sure you were close behind us.\"\n\nThe men traded unhappy glances. \"We were following, m'lord,\" said Quent, the youngest of them, his beard a soft brown fuzz. \"Only first we waited for Maester Luwin and his ass, begging your pardons, and then, well, as it were...\" He glanced over at Theon and quickly looked away, abashed.\n\n\"I spied a turkey,\" Theon said, annoyed by the question. \"How was Ito know that you'd leave the boy alone?\"\n\nRobb turned his head to look at Theon once more. Bran had never seen him so angry, yet he said nothing. Finally he knelt beside Maester Luwin. \"How badly is my brother wounded?\"\n\n\"No more than a scratch,\" the maester said. He wet a cloth in the stream to clean the cut. \"Two of them wear the black,\" he told Robb as he worked.\n\nRobb glanced over at where Stiv lay sprawled in the stream, his ragged black cloak moving fitfully as the rushing waters tugged at it. \"Deserters from the Night's Watch,\" he said grimly. \"They must have been fools, to come so close to Winterfell.\"\n\n\"Folly and desperation are ofttimes hard to tell apart,\" said Maester Luwin.\n\n\"Shall we bury them, m'lord?\" asked Quent.\n\n\"They would not have buried us,\" Robb said. \"Hack off their heads, we'll send them back to the Wall. Leave the rest for the carrion crows.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"And this one?\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Quent jerked a thumb toward Osha.\n\nRobb walked over to her. She was ahead taller than he was, but she dropped to her knees at his approach. \"Give me my life, m'lord of Stark, and I am yours.\"\n\n\"Mine? What would I do with an oathbreaker?\"\n\n\"I broke no oaths. Stiv and Wallen flew down off the Wall, not me. The black crows got no place for women.\"\n\nTheon Greyjoy sauntered closer. \"Give her to the wolves,\" he urged Robb. The woman's eyes went to what was left of Hali, and just as quickly away. She shuddered. Even the guardsmen looked queasy.\n\n\"She's a woman,\" Robb said.\n\n\"A wildling,\" Bran told him. \"She said they should keep me alive so they could take me to Mance Rayder.\"\n\n\"Do you have a name?\" Robb asked her.\n\n\"Osha, as it please the lord,\" she muttered sourly.\n\nMaester Luwin stood. \"We might do well to question her.\"\n\nBran could seethe relief on his brother's face. \"As you say, Maester. Wayn, bind her hands. She'll comeback to Winterfell with us... and live or die by the truths she gives us.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You want eat?\" Mord asked, glowering. He had a plate of boiled beans in one thick, stub-fingered hand.\n\nTyrion Lannister was starved, but he refused to let this brute see him cringe. \"A leg of lamb would be pleasant,\" he said, from the heap of soiled straw in the corner of his cell. \"Perhaps a dish of peas and onions, some fresh baked bread with butter, and a flagon of mulled wine to wash it down. Or beer, if that's easier. I try not to be overly particular.\"\n\n\"Is beans,\" Mord said. \"Here.\" He held out the plate.\n\nTyrion sighed. The turnkey was twenty stone of gross stupidity, with brown rotting teeth and small dark eyes. The left side of his face was slick with scar where an axe had cutoff his ear and part of his cheek. He was as predictable as he was ugly, but Tyrion was hungry. He reached up for the plate.\n\nMord jerked it away, grinning. \"Is here,\" he said, holding it out beyond Tyrion's reach.\n\nThe dwarf climbed stiffly to his feet, every joint aching. \"Must we play the same fool's game with every meal?\" He made another grab for the beans.\n\nMord shambled backward, grinning through his rotten teeth. \"Is here, dwarf man.\" He held the plate out at arm's length, over the edge where the cell ended and the sky began. \"You not want eat? Here. Come take.\"\n\nTyrion's arms were too short to reach the plate, and he was not about to step that close to the edge. All it would take would be a quick shove of Mord's heavy white belly, and he would end up a sickening red splotch on the stones of Sky, like so many other prisoners of the Eyrie over the centuries. \"Come to think on it, I'm not hungry after all,\" he declared, retreating to the corner of his cell."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Mord grunted and opened his thick fingers."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wind took the plate, flipping it over as it fell. A handful of beans sprayed back at them as the food tumbled out of sight. The turnkey laughed, his gut shaking like a bowl of pudding.\n\nTyrion felt a pang of rage. \"You fucking son of a pox-ridden ass,\" he spat. \"I hope you die of a bloody flux.\"\n\nFor that, Mord gave him a kick, driving a steel-toed boot hard into Tyrion's ribs on the way out. \"I take it back!\" he gasped as he doubled over on the straw. \"I'll kill you myself, I swear it!\" The heavy iron-bound door slammed shut. Tyrion heard the rattle of keys.\n\nFora small man, he had been cursed with a dangerously bigmouth, he reflected as he crawled back to his corner of what the Arryns laughably called their dungeon. He huddled beneath the thin blanket that was his only bedding, staring out at ablaze of empty blue sky and distant mountains that seemed to goon forever, wishing he still had the shadowskin cloak he'd won from Marillion at dice, after the singer had stolen it off the body of that brigand chief. The skin had smelled of blood and mold, but it was warm and thick. Mord had taken it the moment he laid eyes on it.\n\nThe wind tugged at his blanket with gusts sharp as talons. His cell was miserably small, even fora dwarf. Not five feet away, where a wall ought to have been, where a wall would be in a proper dungeon, the floor ended and the sky began. He had plenty of fresh air and sunshine, and the moon and stars by night, but Tyrion would have traded it all in an instant for the dankest, gloomiest pit in the bowels of the Casterly Rock."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You fly,\" Mord had promised him, when he'd shoved him into the cell. \"Twenty day, thirty, fifty maybe. Then you fly.\"\n\nThe Arryns kept the only dungeon in the realm where the prisoners were welcome to escape at will. That first day, after girding up his courage for hours, Tyrion had lain flat on his stomach and squirmed to the edge, to poke out his head and look down. Sky was six hundred feet below, with nothing between but empty air. If he craned his neck out as far as it could go, he could see other cells to his right and left and above him. He was a bee in a stone honeycomb, and someone had torn off his wings.\n\nIt was cold in the cell, the wind screamed night and day, and worst of all, the floor sloped. Ever so slightly, yet it was enough. He was afraid to close his eyes, afraid that he might rollover in his sleep and wake in sudden terror as he went sliding off the edge. Small wonder the sky cells drove men mad.\n\nGods save me, some previous tenant had written on the wall in something that looked suspiciously like blood, the blue is calling. At first Tyrion wondered who he'd been, and what had become of him; later, he decided that he would rather not know.\n\nIf only he had shut his mouth...\n\nThe wretched boy had started it, looking down on him from a throne of carved weirwood beneath the moon-and-falcon banners of House Arryn. Tyrion Lannister had been looked down on all his life, but seldom by rheumy-eyed six-year-olds who needed to stuff fat cushions under their cheeks to lift them to the height of a man. \"Is he the badman?\" the boy had asked, clutching his doll."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He is,\" the Lady Lysa had said from the lesser throne beside him. She was all in blue, powdered and perfumed for the suitors who filled her court.\n\n\"He's so small,\" the Lord of the Eyrie said, giggling.\n\n\"This is Tyrion the Imp, of House Lannister, who murdered your father.\" She raised her voice so it carried down the length of High Hall of the Eyrie, ringing off the milk-whitewalls and the slender pillars, so every man could hear it. \"He slew the Hand of the King!\"\n\n\"Oh, did I kill him too?\" Tyrion had said, like a fool.\n\nThat would have been a very good time to have kept his mouth closed and his head bowed. He could see that now; seven hells, he had seen it then. The High Hall of the Arryns was long and austere, with a forbidding coldness to its walls of blue-veined white marble, but the faces around him had been colder by far. The power of Casterly Rock was faraway, and there were no friends of the Lannisters in the Vale of Arryn. Submission and silence would have been his best defenses.\n\nBut Tyrion's mood had been too foul for sense. To his shame, he had faltered during the last leg of their day-long climb up to the Eyrie, his stunted legs unable to take him any higher. Bronn had carried him the rest of the way, and the humiliation poured oil on the flames of his anger. \"It would seem I've been a busy little fellow,\" he said with bitter sarcasm. \"I wonder when I found the time to do all this slaying and murdering.\"\n\nHe ought to have remembered who he was dealing with. Lysa Arryn and her half-sane weakling son had not been known at court for their love of wit, especially when it was directed at them."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Imp,\" Lysa said coldly, \"you will guard that mocking tongue of yours and speak to my son politely, or I promise you will have cause to regret it."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Remember where you are. This is the Eyrie, and these are knights of the Vale you see around you, true men who loved Jon Arryn well. Everyone of them would die for me.\"\n\n\"Lady Arryn, should any harm come tome, my brother Jaime will be pleased to see that they do.\" Even as he spat out the words, Tyrion knew they were folly.\n\n\"Can you fly, my lord of Lannister?\" Lady Lysa asked. \"Does a dwarf have wings? If not, you would be wiser to swallow the next threat that comes to mind.\"\n\n\"I made no threats,\" Tyrion said. \"That was a promise.\"\n\nLittle Lord Robert hopped to his feet at that, so upset he dropped his doll. \"You can't hurt us,\" he screamed. \"No one can hurt us here. Tell him, Mother, tell him he can't hurt us here.\" The boy began to twitch.\n\n\"The Eyrie is impregnable,\" Lysa Arryn declared calmly. She drew her son close, holding him safe in the circle of her plump white arms. \"The Imp is trying to frighten us, sweet baby. The Lannisters are all liars. No one will hurt my sweet boy.\"\n\nThe hell of it was, she was no doubt right. Having seen what it took to get here, Tyrion could well imagine how it would be fora knight trying to fight his way up in armor, while stones and arrows poured down from above and enemies contested with him for every step. Nightmare did not begin to describe it. Small wonder the Eyrie had never been taken.\n\nStill, Tyrion had been unable to silence himself. \"Not impregnable,\" he said, \"merely inconvenient.\"\n\nYoung Robert pointed down, his hand trembling. \"You're a liar. Mother, I want to see him fly.\" Two guardsmen in sky-blue cloaks seized Tyrion by the arms, lifting him off his floor."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The gods only know what might have happened then were it not for Catelyn Stark. \"Sister,\" she called out from where she stood below the thrones, \"I beg you to remember, this man is my prisoner. I will not have him harmed.\"\n\nLysa Arryn glanced at her sister coolly fora moment, then rose and swept down on Tyrion, her long skirts trailing after her. For an instant he feared she would strike him, but instead she commanded them to release him. Her men shoved him to the floor, his legs went out from under him, and Tyrion fell.\n\nHe must have made quite a sight as he struggled to his knees, only to feel his right leg spasm, sending him sprawling once more. Laughter boomed up and down the High Hall of the Arryns.\n\n\"My sister's little guest is too weary to stand,\" Lady Lysa announced. \"Ser Vardis, take him down to the dungeon. A rest in one of our sky cells will do him much good.\"\n\nThe guardsmen jerked him upright. Tyrion Lannister dangled between them, kicking feebly, his face red with shame. \"I will remember this,\" he told them all as they carried him off.\n\nAnd so he did, for all the good it did him.\n\nAt first he had consoled himself that this imprisonment could not last long. Lysa Arryn wanted to humble him, that was all. She would send for him again, and soon. If not her, then Catelyn Stark would want to question him. This time he would guard his tongue more closely. They dare not kill him out of hand; he was still a Lannister of Casterly Rock, and if they shed his blood, it would mean war. Or so he had told himself."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Now he was not so certain.\n\nPerhaps his captors only meant to let him rot here, but he feared he did not have the strength to rot for long. He was growing weaker everyday, and it was only a matter of time until Mord's kicks and blows did him serious harm, provided the gaoler did not starve him to death first. A few more nights of cold and hunger, and the blue would start calling to him too.\n\nHe wondered what was happening beyond the walls (such as they were) of his cell. Lord Tywin would surely have sent outriders when the word reached him. Jaime might be leading a host through the Mountains of the Moon even now... unless he was riding north against Winterfell instead. Did anyone outside the Vale even suspect where Catelyn Stark had taken him? He wondered what Cersei would do when she heard. The king could order him freed, but would Robert listen to his queen or his Hand? Tyrion had no illusions about the king's love for his sister.\n\nIf Cersei kept her wits about her, she would insist the king sit in judgment of Tyrion himself. Even Ned Stark could scarcely object to that, not without impugning the honor of the king. And Tyrion would be only too glad to take his chances in atrial. Whatever murders they might lay at his door, the Starks had no proof of anything so far as he could see. Let them make their case before the Iron Throne and the lords of the land. It would be the end of them. If only Cersei were clever enough to see that...\n\nTyrion Lannister sighed. His sister was not without a certain low cunning, but her pride blinded her. She would seethe insult in this, not the opportunity. And Jaime was even worse, rash and headstrong and quick to anger. His brother never untied a knot when he could slash it in two with his sword."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He wondered which of them had sent the footpad to silence the Stark boy, and whether they had truly conspired at the death of Lord Arryn. If the old Hand had been murdered, it was deftly and subtly done. Men of his age died of sudden illness all the time. In contrast, sending some oaf with a stolen knife after Brandon Stark struck him as unbelievably clumsy. And wasn't that peculiar, come to think on it...\n\nTyrion shivered. Now there was a nasty suspicion. Perhaps the direwolf and the lion were not the only beasts in the woods, and if that was true, someone was using him as a catspaw. Tyrion Lannister hated being used.\n\nHe would have to get out of here, and soon. His chances of overpowering Mord were small to none, and no one was about to smuggle him a six-hundred-foot-long rope, so he would have to talk himself free. His mouth had gotten him into this cell; it could damn well get him out.\n\nTyrion pushed himself to his feet, doing his best to ignore the slope of the floor beneath him, with its ever-so-subtle tug toward the edge. He hammered on the door with a fist. \"Mord!\" he shouted. \"Turnkey! Mord, I want you!\" He had to keep it up a good ten minutes before he heard footsteps. Tyrion stepped back an instant before the door opened with a crash.\n\n\"Making noise,\" Mord growled, with blood in his eyes. Dangling from one meaty hand was a leather strap, wide and thick, doubled over in his fist.\n\nNever show them you're afraid, Tyrion reminded himself. \"How would you like to be rich?\" he asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mord hit him. He swung the strap backhand, lazily, but the leather caught Tyrion high on the arm. The force of it staggered him, and the pain made him grit his teeth. \"No mouth, dwarf man,\" Mord warned him.\n\n\"Gold,\" Tyrion said, miming a smile. \"Casterly Rock is full of gold... ahhhh...\" This time the blow was a forehand, and Mord put more of his arm into the swing, making the leather crack and jump. It caught Tyrion in the ribs and dropped him to his knees, wimpering. He forced himself to lookup at the gaoler. \"As rich as the Lannisters,\" he wheezed. \"That's what they say, Mord-\"\n\nMord grunted. The strap whistled through the air and smashed Tyrion full in the face. The pain was so bad he did not remember falling, but when he opened his eyes again he was on the floor of his cell. His ear was ringing, and his mouth was full of blood. He groped for purchase, to push himself up, and his fingers brushed against... nothing. Tyrion snatched his hand back as fast as if it had been scalded, and tried his best to stop breathing. He had fallen right on the edge, inches from the blue.\n\n\"More to say?\" Mord held the strap between his fists and gave it a sharp pull. The snap made Tyrion jump. The turnkey laughed.\n\nHe won't push me over, Tyrion told himself desperately as he crawled away from the edge. Catelyn Stark wants me alive, he doesn't dare kill me. He wiped the blood off his lips with the back of his hand, grinned, and said, \"That was a stiff one, Mord.\" The gaoler squinted at him, trying to decide if he was being mocked. \"I could make good use of a strongman like you.\" The strap flew at him, but this time Tyrion was able to cringe away from it. He took a glancing blow to the shoulder, nothing more. \"Gold,\" he repeated, scrambling backward like a crab, \"more gold than you'll see herein a lifetime. Enough to buy land, women, horses... you could be a lord. Lord Mord.\" Tyrion hawked up a glob of blood and phlegm and spat it out into the sky."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Is no gold,\" Mord said.\n\nHe's listening! Tyrion thought. \"They relieved me of my purse when they captured me, but the gold is still mine. Catelyn Stark might take a man prisoner, but she'd never stoop to rob him. That wouldn't be honorable. Help me, and all the gold is yours.\" Mord's strap licked out, but it was a halfhearted, desultory swing, slow and contemptuous. Tyrion caught the leather in his hand and held it prisoned. \"There will be no risk to you. All you need do is deliver a message.\"\n\nThe gaoler yanked his leather strap free of Tyrion's grasp. \"Message,\" he said, as if he had never heard the word before. His frown made deep creases in his brow.\n\n\"You heard me, my lord. Only carry my word to your lady. Tell her...\" What? What would possibly make Lysa Arryn relent? The inspiration came to Tyrion Lannister suddenly. \"... tell her that I wish to confess my crimes.\"\n\nMord raised his arm and Tyrion braced himself for another blow, but the turnkey hesitated. Suspicion and greed warred in his eyes. He wanted that gold, yet he feared a trick; he had the look of a man who had often been tricked. \"Is lie,\" he muttered darkly. \"Dwarf man cheat me.\"\n\n\"I will put my promise in writing,\" Tyrion vowed.\n\nSome illiterates held writing in disdain; others seemed to have a superstitious reverence for the written word, as if it were some sort of magic. Fortunately, Mord was one of the latter. The turnkey lowered the strap. \"Writing down gold. Much gold.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, much gold,\" Tyrion assured him. \"The purse is just a taste, my friend. My brother wears armor of solid gold plate.\" In truth, Jaime's armor was gilded steel, but this oaf would never know the difference.\n\nMord fingered his strap thoughtfully, but in the end, he relented and went to fetch paper and ink. When the letter was written, the gaoler frowned at it suspiciously. \"Now deliver my message,\" Tyrion urged.\n\nHe was shivering in his sleep when they came for him, late that night. Mord opened the door but kept his silence. Ser Vardis Egen woke Tyrion with the point of his boot. \"On your feet, Imp. My lady wants to see you.\"\n\nTyrion rubbed the sleep from his eyes and put on a grimace he scarcely felt. \"No doubt she does, but what makes you think I wish to see her?\"\n\nSer Vardis frowned. Tyrion remembered him well from the years he had spent at King's Landing as the captain of the Hand's household guard. A square, plain face, silver hair, a heavy build, and no humor whatsoever. \"Your wishes are not my concern. On your feet, or I'll have you carried.\"\n\nTyrion clambered awkwardly to his feet. \"A cold night,\" he said casually, \"and the High Hall is so drafty. I don't wish to catch a chill. Mord, if you would be so good, fetch my cloak.\"\n\nThe gaoler squinted at him, face dull with suspicion.\n\n\"My cloak,\" Tyrion repeated. \"The shadowskin you took from me for safekeeping. You recall.\"\n\n\"Get him the damnable cloak,\" Ser Vardis said."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mord did not dare grumble. He gave Tyrion a glare that promised future retribution, yet he went for the cloak. When he draped it around his prisoner's neck, Tyrion smiled. \"My thanks. I shall think of you whenever I wear it.\" He flung the trailing end of the long fur over his right shoulder, and felt warm for the first time in days. \"Lead on, Ser Vardis.\"\n\nThe High Hall of the Arryns was aglow with the light of fifty torches, burning in the sconces along the walls. The Lady Lysa wore black silk, with the moon-and-falcon sewn on her breast in pearls. Since she did not look the sort to join the Night's Watch, Tyrion could only imagine that she had decided mourning clothes were appropriate garb fora confession. Her long auburn hair, woven into an elaborate braid, fell across her left shoulder. The taller throne beside her was empty; no doubt the little Lord of the Eyrie was off shaking in his sleep. Tyrion was thankful for that much, at least.\n\nHe bowed deeply and took a moment to glance around the hall. Lady Arryn had summoned her knights and retainers to hear his confession, as he had hoped. He saw Ser Brynden Tully's craggy face and Lord Nestor Royce's bluff one. Beside Nestor stood a younger man with fierce black sidewhiskers who could only be his heir, Ser Albar. Most of the principal houses of the Vale were represented. Tyrion noted Ser Lyn Corbray, slender as a sword, Lord Hunter with his gouty legs, the widowed Lady Waynwood surrounded by her sons. Others sported sigils he did not know; broken lance, green viper, burning tower, winged chalice.\n\nAmong the lords of the Vale were several of his companions from the highroad; Ser Rodrik Cassel, pale from half-healed wounds, stood with Ser Willis Wode beside him. Marillion the singer had found anew woodharp. Tyrion smiled; whatever happened here tonight, he did not wish it to happen in secret, and there was no one like a singer for spreading a story near and far."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the rear of the hall, Bronn lounged beneath a pillar. The freerider's black eyes were fixed on Tyrion, and his hand lay lightly on the pommel of his sword. Tyrion gave him along look, wondering...\n\nCatelyn Stark spoke first. \"You wish to confess your crimes, we are told.\"\n\n\"I do, my lady,\" Tyrion answered.\n\nLysa Arryn smiled at her sister. \"The sky cells always break them. The gods can see them there, and there is no darkness to hide in.\"\n\n\"He does not look broken tome,\" Lady Catelyn said.\n\nLady Lysa paid her no mind. \"Say what you will,\" she commanded Tyrion.\n\nAnd now to roll the dice, he thought with another quick glance back at Bronn. \"Whereto begin? I am a vile little man, I confess it. My crimes and sins are beyond counting, my lords and ladies. I have lain with whores, not once but hundreds of times. I have wished my own lord father dead, and my sister, our gracious queen, as well.\" Behind him, someone chuckled. \"I have not always treated my servants with kindness. I have gambled. I have even cheated, I blush to admit. I have said many cruel and malicious things about the noble lords and ladies of the court.\" That drew outright laughter. \"Once I-\"\n\n\"Silence!\" Lysa Arryn's pale round face had turned a burning pink. \"What do you imagine you are doing, dwarf?\"\n\nTyrion cocked his head to one side. \"Why, confessing my crimes, my lady.\"\n\nCatelyn Stark took a step forward. \"You are accused of sending a hired knife to slay my son Bran in his bed, and of conspiring to murder Lord Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tyrion gave a helpless shrug."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Those crimes I cannot confess, I fear. I know nothing of any murders.\"\n\nLady Lysa rose from her weirwood throne. \"I will not be made mock of. You have had your little jape, Imp. I trust you enjoyed it. Ser Vardis, take him back to the dungeon... but this time find him a smaller cell, with a floor more sharply sloped.\"\n\n\"Is this how justice is done in the Vale?\" Tyrion roared, so loudly that Ser Vardis froze for an instant. \"Does honor stop at the Bloody Gate? You accuse me of crimes, I deny them, so you throw me into an open cell to freeze and starve.\" He lifted his head, to give them all a good look at the bruises Mord had left on his face. \"Where is the king's justice? Is the Eyrie not part of the Seven Kingdoms? I stand accused, you say. Very well. I demand atrial! Let me speak, and let my truth or falsehood be judged openly, in the sight of gods and men.\"\n\nA low murmuring filled the High Hall. He had her, Tyrion knew. He was highborn, the son of the most powerful lord in the realm, the brother of the queen. He could not be denied atrial. Guardsmen in sky-blue cloaks had started toward Tyrion, but Ser Vardis bid them halt and looked to Lady Lysa.\n\nHer small mouth twitched in a petulant smile. \"If you are tried and found to be guilty of the crimes for which you stand accused, then by the king's own laws, you must pay with your life's blood. We keep no headsman in the Eyrie, my lord of Lannister. Open the Moon Door.\"\n\nThe press of spectators parted. A narrow weirwood door stood between two slender marble pillars, a crescent moon carved in the white wood. Those standing closest edged backward as a pair of guardsmen marched through. One man removed the heavy bronze bars; the second pulled the door inward. Their blue cloaks rose snapping from their shoulders, caught in the sudden gust of wind that came howling through the open door. Beyond was the emptiness of the night sky, speckled with cold uncaring stars."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Behold the king's justice,\" Lysa Arryn said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Torch flames fluttered like pennons along the walls, and here and there the odd torch guttered out.\n\n\"Lysa, I think this unwise,\" Catelyn Stark said as the black wind swirled around the hall.\n\nHer sister ignored her. \"You want atrial, my lord of Lannister. Very well, atrial you shall have. My son will listen to whatever you care to say, and you shall hear his judgment. Then you may leave... by one door or the other.\"\n\nShe looked so pleased with herself, Tyrion thought, and small wonder. How could atrial threaten her, when her weakling son was the lord judge? Tyrion glanced at her Moon Door. Mother, I want to see him fly! the boy had said. How many men had the snot-nosed little wretch sent through that door already?\n\n\"I thank you, my good lady, but I see no need to trouble Lord Robert,\" Tyrion said politely. \"The gods know the truth of my innocence. I will have their verdict, not the judgment of men. I demand trial by combat.\"\n\nA storm of sudden laughter filled the High Hall of the Arryns. Lord Nestor Royce snorted, Ser Willis chuckled, Ser Lyn Corbray guffawed, and others threw back their heads and howled until tears ran down their faces. Marillion clumsily plucked a gay note on his new woodharp with the fingers of his broken hand. Even the wind seemed to whistle with derision as it came skirling through the Moon Door.\n\nLysa Arryn's watery blue eyes looked uncertain. He had caught her off balance. \"You have that right, to be sure.\"\n\nThe young knight with the green viper embroidered on his surcoat stepped forward and went to one knee. \"My lady, I beg the boon of championing your cause.\""
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"value": "\"The honor should be mine,\" old Lord Hunter said. \"For the love I bore your lord husband, let me avenge his death.\"\n\n\"My father served Lord Jon faithfully as High Steward of the Vale,\" Ser Albar Royce boomed. \"Let me serve his son in this.\"\n\n\"The gods favor the man with the just cause,\" said Ser Lyn Corbray, \"yet often that turns out to be the man with the surest sword. We all know who that is.\" He smiled modestly.\n\nA dozen other men all spoke at once, clamoring to be heard. Tyrion found it disheartening to realize so many strangers were eager to kill him. Perhaps this had not been such a clever plan after all.\n\nLady Lysa raised a hand for silence. \"I thank you, my lords, as I know my son would thank you if he were among us. No men in the Seven Kingdoms areas bold and true as the knights of the Vale. Would that I could grant you all this honor. Yet I can choose only one.\" She gestured. \"Ser Vardis Egen, you were ever my lord husband's good right hand. You shall be our champion.\"\n\nSer Vardis had been singularly silent. \"My lady,\" he said gravely, sinking to one knee, \"pray give this burden to another, I have no taste for it. The man is no warrior. Look at him. A dwarf, half my size and lame in the legs. It would be shameful to slaughter such a man and call it justice.\"\n\nOh, excellent, Tyrion thought. \"I agree.\"\n\nLysa glared at him. \"You demanded atrial by combat.\"\n\n\"And now I demand a champion, such as you have chosen for yourself. My brother Jaime will gladly take my part, I know.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your precious Kingslayer is hundreds of leagues from here,\" snapped Lysa Arryn.\n\n\"Send a bird for him. I will gladly await his arrival.\"\n\n\"You will face Ser Vardis on the morrow.\"\n\n\"Singer,\" Tyrion said, turning to Marillion, \"when you make a ballad of this, be certain you tell them how Lady Arryn denied the dwarf the right to a champion, and sent him forth lame and bruised and hobbling to face her finest knight.\"\n\n\"I deny you nothing!\" Lysa Arryn said, her voice peeved and shrill with irritation. \"Name your champion, Imp... if you think you can find a man to die for you.\"\n\n\"If it is all the same to you, I'd sooner find one to kill for me.\" Tyrion looked over the long hall. No one moved. Fora long moment he wondered if it had all been a colossal blunder.\n\nThen there was a stirring in the rear of the chamber. \"I'll stand for the dwarf,\" Bronn called out."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "He dreamt an old dream, of three knights in white cloaks, and a tower long fallen, and Lyanna in her bed of blood.\n\nIn the dream his friends rode with him, as they had in life. Proud Martyn Cassel, Jory's father; faithful Theo Wull; Ethan Glover, who had been Brandon's squire; Ser Mark Ryswell, soft of speech and gentle of heart; the crannogman, Howland Reed; Lord Dustin on his great red stallion. Ned had known their faces as well as he knew his own once, but the years leech at a man's memories, even those he has vowed never to forget. In the dream they were only shadows, grey wraiths on horses made of mist.\n\nThey were seven, facing three. In the dream as it had been in life. Yet these were no ordinary three. They waited before the round tower, the red mountains of Dorne at their backs, their white cloaks blowing in the wind. And these were no shadows; their faces burned clear, even now. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, had a sad smile on his lips. The hilt of the greatsword Dawn poked up over his right shoulder. Ser Oswell Whent was on one knee, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. Across his white-enameled helm, the black bat of his House spread its wings. Between them stood fierce old Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.\n\n\"I looked for you on the Trident,\" Ned said to them.\n\n\"We were not there,\" Ser Gerold answered.\n\n\"Woe to the Usurper if we had been,\" said Ser Oswell.\n\n\"When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 42"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "He dreamt an old dream, of three knights in white cloaks, and a tower long fallen, and Lyanna in her bed of blood.\n\nIn the dream his friends rode with him, as they had in life. Proud Martyn Cassel, Jory's father; faithful Theo Wull; Ethan Glover, who had been Brandon's squire; Ser Mark Ryswell, soft of speech and gentle of heart; the crannogman, Howland Reed; Lord Dustin on his great red stallion. Ned had known their faces as well as he knew his own once, but the years leech at a man's memories, even those he has vowed never to forget. In the dream they were only shadows, grey wraiths on horses made of mist.\n\nThey were seven, facing three. In the dream as it had been in life. Yet these were no ordinary three. They waited before the round tower, the red mountains of Dorne at their backs, their white cloaks blowing in the wind. And these were no shadows; their faces burned clear, even now. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, had a sad smile on his lips. The hilt of the greatsword Dawn poked up over his right shoulder. Ser Oswell Whent was on one knee, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. Across his white-enameled helm, the black bat of his House spread its wings. Between them stood fierce old Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.\n\n\"I looked for you on the Trident,\" Ned said to them.\n\n\"We were not there,\" Ser Gerold answered.\n\n\"Woe to the Usurper if we had been,\" said Ser Oswell.\n\n\"When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Faraway,\" Ser Gerold said, \"or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells.\"\n\n\"I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege,\" Ned told them, \"and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them.\"\n\n\"Our knees do not bend easily,\" said Ser Arthur Dayne.\n\n\"Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him.\"\n\n\"Ser Willem is a good man and true,\" said Ser Oswell.\n\n\"But not of the Kingsguard,\" Ser Gerold pointed out. \"The Kingsguard does not flee.\"\n\n\"Then or now,\" said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.\n\n\"We swore avow,\" explained old Ser Gerold.\n\nNed's wraiths moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were seven against three.\n\n\"And now it begins,\" said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.\n\n\"No,\" Ned said with sadness in his voice. \"Now it ends.\" As they came together in a rush of steel and shadow, he could hear Lyanna screaming. \"Eddard!\" she called. A storm of rose petals blew across a blood-streaked sky, as blue as the eyes of death.\n\n\"Lord Eddard,\" Lyanna called again.\n\n\"I promise,\" he whispered. \"Lya, I promise...\"\n\n\"Lord Eddard,\" a man echoed from the dark."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "Groaning, Eddard Stark opened his eyes. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows of the Tower of the Hand.\n\n\"Lord Eddard?\" A shadow stood over the bed.\n\n\"How... how long?\" The sheets were tangled, his leg splinted and plastered. A dull throb of pain shot up his side.\n\n\"Six days and seven nights.\" The voice was Vayon Poole's. The steward held a cup to Ned's lips. \"Drink, my lord.\"\n\n\"What...?\"\n\n\"Only water. Maester Pycelle said you would be thirsty.\"\n\nNed drank. His lips were parched and cracked. The water tasted sweet as honey.\n\n\"The king left orders,\" Vayon Poole told him when the cup was empty. \"He would speak with you, my lord.\"\n\n\"On the morrow,\" Ned said. \"When I am stronger.\" He could not face Robert now. The dream had left him weak as a kitten.\n\n\"My lord,\" Poole said, \"he commanded us to send you to him the moment you opened your eyes.\" The steward busied himself lighting a bedside candle.\n\nNed cursed softly. Robert was never known for his patience. \"Tell him I'm too weak to come to him. If he wishes to speak with me, I should be pleased to receive him here. I hope you wake him from a sound sleep. And summon...\" He was about to say Jory when he remembered. \"Summon the captain of my guard.\"\n\nAlyn stepped into the bedchamber a few moments after the steward had taken his leave. \"My lord.\"\n\n\"Poole tells me it has been six days,\" Ned said. \"I must know how things stand.\""
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Kingslayer is fled the city,\" Alyn told him. \"The talk is he's ridden back to Casterly Rock to join his father. The story of how Lady Catelyn took the Imp is on every lip. I have put on extra guards, if it please you.\"\n\n\"It does,\" Ned assured him. \"My daughters?\"\n\n\"They have been with you everyday, my lord. Sansa prays quietly, but Arya...\" He hesitated. \"She has not said a word since they brought you back. She is a fierce little thing, my lord. I have never seen such anger in a girl.\"\n\n\"Whatever happens,\" Ned said, \"I want my daughters kept safe. I fear this is only the beginning.\"\n\n\"No harm will come to them, Lord Eddard,\" Alyn said. \"I stake my life on that.\"\n\n\"Jory and the others...\"\n\n\"I gave them over to the silent sisters, to be sent north to Winterfell. Jory would want to lie beside his grandfather.\"\n\nIt would have to be his grandfather, for Jory's father was buried far to the south. Martyn Cassel had perished with the rest. Ned had pulled the tower down afterward, and used its bloody stones to build eight cairns upon the ridge. It was said that Rhaegar had named that place the tower of joy, but for Ned it was a bitter memory. They had been seven against three, yet only two had lived to ride away; Eddard Stark himself and the little crannogman, Howland Reed. He did not think it omened well that he should dream that dream again after so many years.\n\n\"You've done well, Alyn,\" Ned was saying when Vayon Poole returned. The steward bowed low. \"His Grace is without, my lord, and the queen with him.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned pushed himself up higher, wincing as his leg trembled with pain. He had not expected Cersei to come. It did not bode well that she had. \"Send them in, and leave us. What we have to say should not go beyond these walls.\" Poole withdrew quietly.\n\nRobert had taken time to dress. He wore a black velvet doublet with the crowned stag of Baratheon worked upon the breast in golden thread, and a golden mantle with a cloak of black and gold squares. A flagon of wine was in his hand, his face already flushed from drink. Cersei Lannister entered behind him, a jeweled tiara in her hair.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Ned said. \"Your pardons. I cannot rise.\"\n\n\"No matter,\" the king said gruffly. \"Some wine? From the Arbor. A good vintage.\"\n\n\"A small cup,\" Ned said. \"My head is still heavy from the milk of the poppy.\"\n\n\"A man in your place should count himself fortunate that his head is still on his shoulders,\" the queen declared.\n\n\"Quiet, woman,\" Robert snapped. He brought Ned a cup of wine. \"Does the leg still pain you?\"\n\n\"Some,\" Ned said. His head was swimming, but it would not do to admit to weakness in front of the queen.\n\n\"Pycelle swears it will heal clean,\" Robert frowned. \"I take it you know what Catelyn has done?\"\n\n\"I do.\" Ned took a small swallow of wine. \"My lady wife is blameless, Your Grace. All she did she did at my command.\"\n\n\"I am not pleased, Ned,\" Robert grumbled.\n\n\"By what right do you dare lay hands on my blood?\" Cersei demanded. \"Who do you think you are?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Hand of the King,\" Ned told her with icy courtesy. \"Charged by your own lord husband to keep the king's peace and enforce the king's justice.\"\n\n\"You were the Hand,\" Cersei began, \"but now-\"\n\n\"Silence!\" the king roared. \"You asked him a question and he answered it.\" Cersei subsided, cold with anger, and Robert turned back to Ned. \"Keep the king's peace, you say. Is this how you keep my peace, Ned? Seven men are dead...\"\n\n\"Eight,\" the queen corrected. \"Tregar died this morning, of the blow Lord Stark gave him.\"\n\n\"Abductions on the kingsroad and drunken slaughter in my streets,\" the king said. \"I will not have it, Ned.\"\n\n\"Catelyn had good reason for taking the Imp-\"\n\n\"I said, I will not have it! To hell with her reasons. You will command her to release the dwarf at once, and you will make your peace with Jaime.\"\n\n\"Three of my men were butchered before my eyes, because Jaime Lannister wished to chasten me. Am Ito forget that?\"\n\n\"My brother was not the cause of this quarrel,\" Cersei told the king. \"Lord Stark was returning drunk from a brothel. His men attacked Jaime and his guards, even as his wife attacked Tyrion on the kingsroad.\"\n\n\"You know me better than that, Robert,\" Ned said. \"Ask Lord Baelish if you doubt me. He was there.\"\n\n\"I've talked to Littlefinger,\" Robert said. \"He claims he rode off to bring the gold cloaks before the fighting began, but he admits you were returning from some whorehouse.\"\n\n\"Some whorehouse? Damn your eyes, Robert, I went thereto have a look at your daughter! Her mother has named her Barra. She looks like that first girl you fathered, when we were boys together in the Vale.\" He watched the queen as he spoke; her face was a mask, still and pale, betraying nothing."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robert flushed. \"Barra,\" he grumbled. \"Is that supposed to please me? Damn the girl. I thought she had more sense.\"\n\n\"She cannot be more than fifteen, and a whore, and you thought she had sense?\" Ned said, incredulous. His leg was beginning to pain him sorely. It was hard to keep his temper. \"The fool child is in love with you, Robert.\"\n\nThe king glanced at Cersei. \"This is no fit subject for the queen's ears.\"\n\n\"Her Grace will have no liking for anything I have to say,\" Ned replied. \"I am told the Kingslayer has fled the city. Give me leave to bring him back to justice.\"\n\nThe king swirled the wine in his cup, brooding. He took a swallow. \"No,\" he said. \"I want no more of this. Jaime slew three of your men, and you five of his. Now it ends.\"\n\n\"Is that your notion of justice?\" Ned flared. \"If so, I am pleased that I am no longer your Hand.\"\n\nThe queen looked to her husband. \"If any man had dared speak to a Targaryen as he has spoken to you-\"\n\n\"Do you take me for Aerys?\" Robert interrupted.\n\n\"I took you fora king. Jaime and Tyrion are your own brothers, by all the laws of marriage and the bonds we share. The Starks have driven off the one and seized the other. This man dishonors you with every breath he takes, and yet you stand there meekly, asking if his leg pains him and would he like some wine.\"\n\nRobert's face was dark with anger. \"How many times must I tell you to hold your tongue, woman?\"\n\nCersei's face was a study in contempt. \"What a jape the gods have made of us two,\" she said. \"By all rights, you ought to be in skirts and me in mail.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Purple with rage, the king lashed out, a vicious backhand blow to the side of the head. She stumbled against the table and fell hard, yet Cersei Lannister did not cry out. Her slender fingers brushed her cheek, where the pale smooth skin was already reddening. On the morrow the bruise would cover half her face. \"I shall wear this as a badge of honor,\" she announced.\n\n\"Wear it in silence, or I'll honor you again,\" Robert vowed. He shouted fora guard. Ser Meryn Trant stepped into the room, tall and somber in his white armor. \"The queen is tired. See her to her bedchamber.\" The knight helped Cersei to her feet and led her out without a word.\n\nRobert reached for the flagon and refilled his cup. \"You see what she does tome, Ned.\" The king seated himself, cradling his wine cup. \"My loving wife. The mother of my children.\" The rage was gone from him now; in his eyes Ned saw something sad and scared. \"I should not have hither. That was not... that was not kingly.\" He stared down at his hands, as if he did not quite know what they were. \"I was always strong... no one could stand before me, no one. How do you fight someone if you can't hit them?\" Confused, the king shook his head. \"Rhaegar... Rhaegar won, damn him. I killed him, Ned, I drove the spike right through that black armor into his black heart, and he died at my feet. They made up songs about it. Yet somehow he still won. He has Lyanna now, and I have her.\" The king drained his cup.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Ned Stark said, \"we must talk...\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "Robert pressed his fingertips against his temples. \"I am sick unto death of talk. On the morrow I'm going to the kingswood to hunt. Whatever you have to say can wait until I return.\"\n\n\"If the gods are good, I shall not be hereon your return. You commanded me to return to Winterfell, remember?\"\n\nRobert stood up, grasping one of the bedposts to steady himself. \"The gods are seldom good, Ned. Here, this is yours.\" He pulled the heavy silver handclasp from a pocket in the lining of his cloak and tossed it on the bed. \"Like it or not, you are my Hand, damn you. I forbid you to leave.\"\n\nNed picked up the silver clasp. He was being given no choice, it seemed. His leg throbbed, and he felt as helpless as a child. \"The Targaryen girl-\"\n\nThe king groaned. \"Seven hells, don't start with her again. That's done, I'll hear no more of it.\"\n\n\"Why would you want meas your Hand, if you refuse to listen to my counsel?\"\n\n\"Why?\" Robert laughed. \"Why not? Someone has to rule this damnable kingdom. Put on the badge, Ned. It suits you. And if you ever throw it in my face again, I swear to you, I'll pin the damned thing on Jaime Lannister.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The eastern sky was rose and gold as the sun broke over the Vale of Arryn. Catelyn Stark watched the light spread, her hands resting on the delicate carved stone of the balustrade outside her window. Below her the world turned from black to indigo to green as dawn crept across fields and forests. Pale white mists rose off Alyssa's Tears, where the ghost waters plunged over the shoulder of the mountain to begin their long tumbledown the face of the Giant's Lance. Catelyn could feel the faint touch of spray on her face.\n\nAlyssa Arryn had seen her husband, her brothers, and all her children slain, and yet in life she had never shed a tear. So in death, the gods had decreed that she would know no rest until her weeping watered the black earth of the Vale, where the men she had loved were buried. Alyssa had been dead six thousand years now, and still no drop of the torrent had ever reached the valley floor far below. Catelyn wondered how large a waterfall her own tears would make when she died. \"Tell me the rest of it,\" she said.\n\n\"The Kingslayer is massing a host at Casterly Rock,\" Ser Rodrik Cassel answered from the room behind her. \"Your brother writes that he has sent riders to the Rock, demanding that Lord Tywin proclaim his intent, but he has had no answer. Edmure has commanded Lord Vance and Lord Piper to guard the pass below the Golden Tooth. He vows to you that he will yield no foot of Tully land without first watering it with Lannister blood.\"\n\nCatelyn turned away from the sunrise. Its beauty did little to lighten her mood; it seemed cruel fora day to dawn so fair and end so foul as this one promised to. \"Edmure has sent riders and made vows,\" she said, \"but Edmure is not the Lord of Riverrun. What of my lord father?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The message made no mention of Lord Hoster, my lady.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers. They had grown in white as snow and bristly as a thornbush while he was recovering from his wounds; he looked almost himself again.\n\n\"My father would not have given the defense of Riverrun over to Edmure unless he was very sick,\" she said, worried. \"I should have been woken as soon as this bird arrived.\"\n\n\"Your lady sister thought it better to let you sleep, Maester Colemon told me.\"\n\n\"I should have been woken,\" she insisted.\n\n\"The maester tells me your sister planned to speak with you after the combat,\" Ser Rodrik said.\n\n\"Then she still plans to go through with this mummer's farce?\" Catelyn grimaced. \"The dwarf has played her like a set of pipes, and she is too deaf to hear the tune. Whatever happens this morning, Ser Rodrik, it is past time we took our leave. My place is at Winterfell with my sons. If you are strong enough to travel, I shall ask Lysa for an escort to see us to Gulltown. We can take ship from there.\"\n\n\"Another ship?\" Ser Rodrik looked a shade green, yet he managed not to shudder. \"As you say, my lady.\"\n\nThe old knight waited outside her door as Catelyn summoned the servants Lysa had given her. If she spoke to her sister before the duel, perhaps she could change her mind, she thought as they dressed her. Lysa's policies varied with her moods, and her moods changed hourly. The shy girl she had known at Riverrun had grown into a woman who was by turns proud, fearful, cruel, dreamy, reckless, timid, stubborn, vain, and, above all, inconstant."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When that vile turnkey of hers had come crawling to tell them that Tyrion Lannister wished to confess, Catelyn had urged Lysa to have the dwarf brought to them privately, but no, nothing would do but that her sister must make a show of him before half the Vale. And now this...\n\n\"Lannister is my prisoner,\" she told Ser Rodrik as they descended the tower stairs and made their way through the Eyrie's cold white halls. Catelyn wore plain grey wool with a silvered belt. \"My sister must be reminded of that.\"\n\nAt the doors to Lysa's apartments, they met her uncle storming out. \"Going to join the fool's festival?\" Ser Brynden snapped. \"I'd tell you to slap some sense into your sister, if I thought it would do any good, but you'd only bruise your hand.\"\n\n\"There was a bird from Riverrun,\" Catelyn began, \"a letter from Edmure...\"\n\n\"I know, child.\" The black fish that fastened his cloak was Brynden's only concession to ornament. \"I had to hear it from Maester Colemon. I asked your sister for leave to take a thousand seasoned men and ride for Riverrun with all haste. Do you know what she told me? The Vale cannot spare a thousand swords, nor even one, Uncle, she said. You are the Knight of the Gate. Your place is here.\" A gust of childish laughter drifted through the open doors behind him, and her uncle glanced darkly over his shoulder. \"Well, I told her she could bloody well find herself anew Knight of the Gate. Black fish or no, I am still a Tully. I shall leave for Riverrun by evenfall.\"\n\nCatelyn could not pretend to surprise. \"Alone? You know as well as I that you will never survive the highroad. Ser Rodrik and I are returning to Winterfell. Come with us, Uncle. I will give you your thousand men. Riverrun will not fight alone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Brynden thought a moment, then nodded a brusque agreement."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As you say. It's the long way home, but I'm more like to get there. I'll wait for you below.\" He went striding off, his cloak swirling behind him.\n\nCatelyn exchanged a look with Ser Rodrik. They went through the doors to the high, nervous sound of a child's giggles.\n\nLysa's apartments opened over a small garden, a circle of dirt and grass planted with blue flowers and ringed on all sides by tall white towers. The builders had intended it as a godswood, but the Eyrie rested on the hard stone of the mountain, and no matter how much soil was hauled up from the Vale, they could not get a weirwood to take root here. So the Lords of the Eyrie planted grass and scattered statuary amidst low, flowering shrubs. It was there the two champions would meet to place their lives, and that of Tyrion Lannister, into the hands of the gods.\n\nLysa, freshly scrubbed and garbed in cream velvet with a rope of sapphires and moonstones around her milk-white neck, was holding court on the terrace overlooking the scene of the combat, surrounded by her knights, retainers, and lords high and low. Most of them still hoped towed her, bed her, and rule the Vale of Arryn by her side. From what Catelyn had seen during her stay at the Eyrie, it was a vain hope.\n\nA wooden platform had been built to elevate Robert's chair; there the Lord of the Eyrie sat, giggling and clapping his hands as a humpbacked puppeteer in blue-and-white motley made two wooden knights hack and slash at each other. Pitchers of thick cream and baskets of blackberries had been set out, and the guests were sipping a sweet orange-scented wine from engraved silver cups. A fool's festival, Brynden had called it, and small wonder."
},
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"value": "Across the terrace, Lysa laughed gaily at some jest of Lord Hunter's, and nibbled a blackberry from the point of Ser Lyn Corbray's dagger. They were the suitors who stood highest in Lysa's favor... today, at least. Catelyn would have been hard-pressed to say which man was more unsuitable. Eon Hunter was even older than Jon Arryn had been, half-crippled by gout, and cursed with three quarrelsome sons, each more grasping than the last. Ser Lyn was a different sort of folly; lean and handsome, heir to an ancient but impoverished house, but vain, reckless, hot-tempered... and, it was whispered, notoriously uninterested in the intimate charms of women.\n\nWhen Lysa espied Catelyn, she welcomed her with a sisterly embrace and a moist kiss on the cheek. \"Isn't it a lovely morning? The gods are smiling onus. Do try a cup of the wine, sweet sister. Lord Hunter was kind enough to send for it, from his own cellars.\"\n\n\"Thank you, no. Lysa, we must talk.\"\n\n\"After,\" her sister promised, already beginning to turn away from her.\n\n\"Now.\" Catelyn spoke more loudly than she'd intended. Men were turning to look. \"Lysa, you cannot mean to go ahead with this folly. Alive, the Imp has value. Dead, he is only food for crows. And if his champion should prevail here-\"\n\n\"Small chance of that, my lady,\" Lord Hunter assured her, patting her shoulder with a liver-spotted hand. \"Ser Vardis is a doughty fighter. He will make short work of the sellsword.\"\n\n\"Will he, my lord?\" Catelyn said coolly. \"I wonder.\" She had seen Bronn fight on the highroad; it was no accident that he had survived the journey while other men had died. He moved like a panther, and that ugly sword of his seemed apart of his arm."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lysa's suitors were gathering around them like bees round a blossom."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Women understand little of these things,\" Ser Morton Waynwood said. \"Ser Vardis is a knight, sweet lady. This other fellow, well, his sort are all cowards at heart. Useful enough in a battle, with thousands of their fellows around them, but stand them up alone and the manhood leaks right out of them.\"\n\n\"Say you have the truth of it, then,\" Catelyn said with a courtesy that made her mouth ache. \"What will we gain by the dwarf's death? Do you imagine that Jaime will care a fig that we gave his brother atrial before we flung him off a mountain?\"\n\n\"Behead the man,\" Ser Lyn Corbray suggested. \"When the Kingslayer receives the Imp's head, it will be a warning to him.\"\n\nLysa gave an impatient shake of her waist-long auburn hair. \"Lord Robert wants to see him fly,\" she said, as if that settled the matter. \"And the Imp has only himself to blame. It was he who demanded atrial by combat.\"\n\n\"Lady Lysa had no honorable way to deny him, even if she'd wished to,\" Lord Hunter intoned ponderously.\n\nIgnoring them all, Catelyn turned all her force on her sister. \"I remind you, Tyrion Lannister is my prisoner.\"\n\n\"And I remind you, the dwarf murdered my lord husband!\" Her voice rose. \"He poisoned the Hand of the King and left my sweet baby fatherless, and now I mean to see him pay!\" Whirling, her skirts swinging around her, Lysa stalked across the terrace. Ser Lyn and Ser Morton and the other suitors excused themselves with cool nods and trailed after her.\n\n\"Do you think he did?\" Ser Rodrik asked her quietly when they were alone again. \"Murder Lord Jon, that is? The Imp still denies it, and most fiercely...\""
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"value": "\"I believe the Lannisters murdered Lord Arryn,\" Catelyn replied, \"but whether it was Tyrion, or Ser Jaime, or the queen, or all of them together, I could not begin to say.\" Lysa had named Cersei in the letter she had sent to Winterfell, but now she seemed certain that Tyrion was the killer... perhaps because the dwarf was here, while the queen was safe behind the walls of the Red Keep, hundreds of leagues to the south. Catelyn almost wished she had burned her sister's letter before reading it.\n\nSer Rodrik tugged at his whiskers. \"Poison, well... that could be the dwarf's work, true enough. Or Cersei's. It's said poison is a woman's weapon, begging your pardons, my lady. The Kingslayer, now... I have no great liking for the man, but he's not the sort. Too fond of the sight of blood on that golden sword of his. Was it poison, my lady?\"\n\nCatelyn frowned, vaguely uneasy. \"How else could they make it look a natural death?\" Behind her, Lord Robert shrieked with delight as one of the puppet knights sliced the other in half, spilling a flood of red sawdust onto the terrace. She glanced at her nephew and sighed. \"The boy is utterly without discipline. He will never be strong enough to rule unless he is taken away from his mother fora time.\"\n\n\"His lord father agreed with you,\" said a voice at her elbow. She turned to behold Maester Colemon, a cup of wine in his hand. \"He was planning to send the boy to Dragonstone for fostering, you know... oh, but I'm speaking out of turn.\" The apple of his throat bobbed anxiously beneath the loose maester's chain. \"I fear I've had too much of Lord Hunter's excellent wine. The prospect of bloodshed has my nerves all a-fray...\""
},
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{
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"value": "\"You are mistaken, Maester,\" Catelyn said. \"It was Casterly Rock, not Dragonstone, and those arrangements were made after the Hand's death, without my sister's consent.\"\n\nThe maester's head jerked so vigorously at the end of his absurdly long neck that he looked half a puppet himself. \"No, begging your forgiveness, my lady, but it was Lord Jon who-\"\n\nA bell tolled loudly below them. High lords and serving girls alike broke off what they were doing and moved to the balustrade. Below, two guardsmen in sky-blue cloaks led forth Tyrion Lannister. The Eyrie's plump septon escorted him to the statue in the center of the garden, a weeping woman carved in veined white marble, no doubt meant to be Alyssa.\n\n\"The bad little man,\" Lord Robert said, giggling. \"Mother, can I make him fly? I want to see him fly.\"\n\n\"Later, my sweet baby,\" Lysa promised him.\n\n\"Trial first,\" drawled Ser Lyn Corbray, \"then execution.\"\n\nA moment later the two champions appeared from opposite sides of the garden. The knight was attended by two young squires, the sellsword by the Eyrie's master-at-arms.\n\nSer Vardis Egen was steel from head to heel, encased in heavy plate armor over mail and padded surcoat. Large circular rondels, enameled cream-and-blue in the moon-and-falcon sigil of House Arryn, protected the vulnerable juncture of arm and breast. A skirt of lobstered metal covered him from waist to midthigh, while a solid gorget encircled his throat. Falcon's wings sprouted from the temples of his helm, and his visor was a pointed metal beak with a narrow slit for vision."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bronn was so lightly armored he looked almost naked beside the knight. He wore only a shirt of black oiled ringmail over boiled leather, around steel halfhelm with a noseguard, and a mail coif. High leather boots with steel shinguards gave some protection to his legs, and discs of black iron were sewn into the fingers of his gloves. Yet Catelyn noted that the sellsword stood half a hand taller than his foe, with a longer reach... and Bronn was fifteen years younger, if she was any judge.\n\nThey knelt in the grass beneath the weeping woman, facing each other, with Lannister between them. The septon removed a faceted crystal sphere from the soft cloth bag at his waist. He lifted it high above his head, and the light shattered. Rainbows danced across the Imp's face. Ina high, solemn, singsong voice, the septon asked the gods to look down and bear witness, to find the truth in this man's soul, to grant him life and freedom if he was innocent, death if he was guilty. His voice echoed off the surrounding towers.\n\nWhen the last echo had died away, the septon lowered his crystal and made a hasty departure. Tyrion leaned over and whispered something in Bronn's ear before the guardsmen led him away. The sellsword rose laughing and brushed a blade of grass from his knee.\n\nRobert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie and Defender of the Vale, was fidgeting impatiently in his elevated chair. \"When are they going to fight?\" he asked plaintively.\n\nSer Vardis was helped back to his feet by one of his squires. The other brought him a triangular shield almost four feet tall, heavy oak dotted with iron studs. They strapped it to his left forearm. When Lysa's master-at-arms offered Bronn a similar shield, the sellsword spat and waved it away. Three days growth of coarse black beard covered his jaw and cheeks, but if he did not shave it was not for want of a razor; the edge of his sword had the dangerous glimmer of steel that had been honed everyday for hours, until it was too sharp to touch."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ser Vardis held out a gauntleted hand, and his squire placed a handsome double-edged longsword in his grasp."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The blade was engraved with a delicate silver tracery of a mountain sky; its pommel was a falcon's head, its crossguard fashioned into the shape of wings. \"I had that sword crafted for Jon in King's Landing,\" Lysa told her guests proudly as they watched Ser Vardis try a practice cut. \"He wore it whenever he sat the Iron Throne in King Robert's place. Isn't it a lovely thing? I thought it only fitting that our champion avenge Jon with his own blade.\"\n\nThe engraved silver blade was beautiful beyond a doubt, but it seemed to Catelyn that Ser Vardis might have been more comfortable with his own sword. Yet she said nothing; she was weary of futile arguments with her sister.\n\n\"Make them fight!\" Lord Robert called out.\n\nSer Vardis faced the Lord of the Eyrie and lifted his sword in salute. \"For the Eyrie and the Vale!\"\n\nTyrion Lannister had been seated on a balcony across the garden, flanked by his guards. It was to him that Bronn turned with a cursory salute.\n\n\"They await your command,\" Lady Lysa said to her lord son.\n\n\"Fight!\" the boy screamed, his arms trembling as they clutched at his chair.\n\nSer Vardis swiveled, bringing up his heavy shield. Bronn turned to face him. Their swords rang together, once, twice, a testing. The sellsword backed off a step. The knight came after, holding his shield before him. He tried a slash, but Bronn jerked back, just out of reach, and the silver blade cut only air. Bronn circled to his right. Ser Vardis turned to follow, keeping his shield between them. The knight pressed forward, placing each foot carefully on the uneven ground. The sellsword gave way, a faint smile playing over his lips. Ser Vardis attacked, slashing, but Bronn leapt away from him, hopping lightly over a low, moss-covered stone. Now the sellsword circled left, away from the shield, toward the knight's unprotected side. Ser Vardis tried a hack at his legs, but he did not have the reach. Bronn danced farther to his left. Ser Vardis turned in place."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The man is craven,\" Lord Hunter declared. \"Stand and fight, coward!\" Other voices echoed the sentiment.\n\nCatelyn looked to Ser Rodrik. Her master-at-arms gave a curt shake of his head. \"He wants to make Ser Vardis chase him. The weight of armor and shield will tire even the strongest man.\"\n\nShe had seen men practice at their swordplay near everyday of her life, had viewed half a hundred tourneys in her time, but this was something different and deadlier: a dance where the smallest misstep meant death. And as she watched, the memory of another duel in another time came back to Catelyn Stark, as vivid as if it had been yesterday.\n\nThey met in the lower bailey of Riverrun. When Brandon saw that Petyr wore only helm and breastplate and mail, he took off most of his armor. Petyr had begged her fora favor he might wear, but she had turned him away. Her lord father promised her to Brandon Stark, and so it was to him that she gave her token, a pale blue handscarf she had embroidered with the leaping trout of Riverrun. As she pressed it into his hand, she pleaded with him. \"He is only a foolish boy, but I have loved him like a brother. It would grieve me to see him die.\" And her betrothed looked at her with the cool grey eyes of a Stark and promised to spare the boy who loved her.\n\nThat fight was over almost as soon as it began. Brandon was a man grown, and he drove Littlefinger all the way across the bailey and down the water stair, raining steel on him with every step, until the boy was staggering and bleeding from a dozen wounds. \"Yield!\" he called, more than once, but Petyr would only shake his head and fight on, grimly. When the river was lapping at their ankles, Brandon finally ended it, with a brutal backhand cut that bit through Petyr's rings and leather into the soft flesh below the ribs, so deep that Catelyn was certain that the wound was mortal. He looked at her as he fell and murmured'Cat\" as the bright blood came flowing out between his mailed fingers. She thought she had forgotten that."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was the last time she had seen his face... until the day she was brought before him in King's Landing.\n\nA fortnight passed before Littlefinger was strong enough to leave Riverrun, but her lord father forbade her to visit him in the tower where he lay abed. Lysa helped their maester nurse him; she had been softer and shyer in those days. Edmure had called on him as well, but Petyr had sent him away. Her brother had acted as Brandon's squire at the duel, and Littlefinger would not forgive that. As soon as he was strong enough to be moved, Lord Hoster Tully sent Petyr Baelish away in a closed litter, to finish his healing on the Fingers, upon the windswept jut of rock where he'd been born.\n\nThe ringing clash of steel on steel jarred Catelyn back to the present. Ser Vardis was coming hard at Bronn, driving into him with shield and sword. The sellsword scrambled backward, checking each blow, stepping lithely over rock and root, his eyes never leaving his foe. He was quicker, Catelyn saw; the knight's silvered sword never came near to touching him, but his own ugly grey blade hacked a notch from Ser Vardis's shoulder plate.\n\nThe brief flurry of fighting ended as swiftly as it had begun when Bronn sidestepped and slid behind the statue of the weeping woman. Ser Vardis lunged at where he had been, striking a spark off the pale marble of Alyssa's thigh.\n\n\"They're not fighting good, Mother,\" the Lord of the Eyrie complained. \"I want them to fight.\"\n\n\"They will, sweet baby,\" his mother soothed him. \"The sellsword can't run all day.\""
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some of the lords on Lysa's terrace were making wry jests as they refilled their wine cups, but across the garden, Tyrion Lannister's mismatched eyes watched the champions dance as if there were nothing else in the world.\n\nBronn came out from behind the statue hard and fast, still moving left, aiming a two-handed cut at the knight's unshielded right side. Ser Vardis blocked, but clumsily, and the sellsword's blade flashed upward at his head. Metal rang, and a falcon's wing collapsed with a crunch. Ser Vardis took a half step back to brace himself, raised his shield. Oak chips flew as Bronn's sword hacked at the wooden wall. The sellsword stepped left again, away from the shield, and caught Ser Vardis across the stomach, the razor edge of his blade leaving a bright gash when it bit into the knight's plate.\n\nSer Vardis drove forward off his back foot, his own silver blade descending in a savage arc. Bronn slammed it aside and danced away. The knight crashed into the weeping woman, rocking heron her plinth. Staggered, he stepped backward, his head turning this way and that as he searched for his foe. The slit visor of his helm narrowed his vision.\n\n\"Behind you, ser!\" Lord Hunter shouted, too late. Bronn brought his sword down with both hands, catching Ser Vardis in the elbow of his sword arm. The thin lobstered metal that protected the joint crunched. The knight grunted, turning, wrenching his weapon up. This time Bronn stood his ground. The swords flew at each other, and their steel song filled the garden and rang off the white towers of the Eyrie.\n\n\"Ser Vardis is hurt,\" Ser Rodrik said, his voice grave."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn did not need to be told; she had eyes, she could seethe bright finger of blood running along the knight's forearm, the wetness inside the elbow joint. Every parry was a little slower and a little lower than the one before. Ser Vardis turned his side to his foe, trying to use his shield to block instead, but Bronn slid around him, quick as a cat. The sellsword seemed to begetting stronger. His cuts were leaving their marks now. Deep shiny gashes gleamed allover the knight's armor, on his right thigh, his beaked visor, crossing on his breastplate, along one along the front of his gorget. The moon-and-falcon rondel over Ser Vardis's right arm was sheared clean in half, hanging by its strap. They could hear his labored breath, rattling through the air holes in his visor.\n\nBlind with arrogance as they were, even the knights and lords of the Vale could see what was happening below them, yet her sister could not. \"Enough, Ser Vardis!\" Lady Lysa called down. \"Finish him now, my baby is growing tired.\"\n\nAnd it must be said of Ser Vardis Egen that he was true to his lady's command, even to the last. One moment he was reeling backward, half-crouched behind his scarred shield; the next he charged. The sudden bull rush caught Bronn off balance. Ser Vardis crashed into him and slammed the lip of his shield into the sellsword's face. Almost, almost, Bronn lost his feet... he staggered back, tripped over a rock, and caught hold of the weeping woman to keep his balance. Throwing aside his shield, Ser Vardis lurched after him, using both hands to raise his sword. His right arm was blood from elbow to fingers now, yet his last desperate blow would have opened Bronn from neck to navel... if the sellsword had stood to receive it."
},
{
"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But Bronn jerked back. Jon Arryn's beautiful engraved silver sword glanced off the marble elbow of the weeping woman and snapped clean a third of the way up the blade. Bronn put his shoulder into the statue's back. The weathered likeness of Alyssa Arryn tottered and fell with a great crash, and Ser Vardis Egen went down beneath her.\n\nBronn was on him in a heartbeat, kicking what was left of his shattered rondel aside to expose the weak spot between arm and breastplate. Ser Vardis was lying on his side, pinned beneath the broken torso of the weeping woman. Catelyn heard the knight groan as the sellsword lifted his blade with both hands and drove it down and in with all his weight behind it, under the arm and through the ribs. Ser Vardis Egen shuddered and lay still.\n\nSilence hungover the Eyrie. Bronn yanked off his halfhelm and let it fall to the grass. His lip was smashed and bloody where the shield had caught him, and his coal-black hair was soaked with sweat. He spit out a broken tooth.\n\n\"Is it over, Mother?\" the Lord of the Eyrie asked.\n\nNo, Catelyn wanted to tell him, it's only now beginning.\n\n\"Yes,\" Lysa said glumly, her voice as cold and dead as the captain of her guard.\n\n\"Can I make the little man fly now?\"\n\nAcross the garden, Tyrion Lannister got to his feet. \"Not this little man,\" he said. \"This little man is going down in the turnip hoist, thank you very much.\"\n\n\"You presume-\" Lysa began.\n\n\"I presume that House Arryn remembers its own words,\" the Imp said. \"As High as Honor.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You promised I could make him fly,\" the Lord of the Eyrie screamed at his mother."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He began to shake.\n\nLady Lysa's face was flushed with fury. \"The gods have seen fit to proclaim him innocent, child. We have no choice but to free him.\" She lifted her voice. \"Guards. Take my lord of Lannister and his... creature here out of my sight. Escort them to the Bloody Gate and set them free. See that they have horses and supplies sufficient to reach the Trident, and make certain all their goods and weapons are returned to them. They shall need them on the highroad.\"\n\n\"The highroad,\" Tyrion Lannister said. Lysa allowed herself a faint, satisfied smile. It was another sort of death sentence, Catelyn realized. Tyrion Lannister must know that as well. Yet the dwarf favored Lady Arryn with a mocking bow. \"As you command, my lady,\" he said. \"I believe we know the way.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You areas hopeless as any boys I have ever trained,\" Ser Alliser Thorne announced when they had all assembled in the yard. \"Your hands were made for manure shovels, not for swords, and if it were up tome, the lot of you would beset to herding swine. But last night I was told that Gueren is marching five new boys up the kingsroad. One or two may even be worth the price of piss. To make room for them, I have decided to pass eight of you onto the Lord Commander to do with as he will.\" He called out the names one by one. \"Toad. Stone Head. Aurochs. Lover. Pimple. Monkey. Ser Loon.\" Last, he looked at Jon. \"And the Bastard.\"\n\nPyp let fly a whoop and thrust his sword into the air. Ser Alliser fixed him with a reptile stare. \"They will call you men of Night's Watch now, but you are bigger fools than the Mummer's Monkey here if you believe that. You are boys still, green and stinking of summer, and when the winter comes you will die like flies.\" And with that, Ser Alliser Thorne took his leave of them.\n\nThe other boys gathered round the eight who had been named, laughing and cursing and offering congratulations. Halder smacked Toad on the butt with the flat of his sword and shouted, \"Toad, of the Night's Watch!\" Yelling that a black brother needed a horse, Pyp leapt onto Grenn's shoulders, and they tumbled to the ground, rolling and punching and hooting. Dareon dashed inside the armory and returned with a skin of sour red. As they passed the wine from hand to hand, grinning like fools, Jon noticed Samwell Tarly standing by himself beneath a bare dead tree in the corner of the yard. Jon offered him the skin. \"A swallow of wine?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sam shook his head. \"No thank you, Jon.\"\n\n\"Are you well?\"\n\n\"Very well, truly,\" the fat boy lied. \"I am so happy for you all.\" His round face quivered as he forced a smile. \"You will be First Ranger someday, just as your uncle was.\"\n\n\"Is,\" Jon corrected. He would not accept that Benjen Stark was dead. Before he could say more, Halder cried, \"Here, you planning to drink that all yourself?\" Pyp snatched the skin from his hand and danced away, laughing. While Grenn seized his arm, Pyp gave the skin a squeeze, and a thin stream of red squirted Jon in the face. Halder howled in protest at the waste of good wine. Jon sputtered and struggled. Matthar and Jeren climbed the wall and began pelting them all with snowballs.\n\nBy the time he wrenched free, with snow in his hair and wine stains on his surcoat, Samwell Tarly had gone.\n\nThat night, Three-Finger Hobb cooked the boys a special meal to mark the occasion. When Jon arrived at the common hall, the Lord Steward himself led him to the bench near the fire. The older men clapped him on the arm in passing. The eight soon-to-be brothers feasted on rack of lamb baked in a crust of garlic and herbs, garnished with sprigs of mint, and surrounded by mashed yellow turnips swimming in butter. \"From the Lord Commander's own table,\" Bowen Marsh told them. There were salads of spinach and chickpeas and turnip greens, and afterward bowls of iced blueberries and sweet cream.\n\n\"Do you think they'll keep us together?\" Pyp wondered as they gorged themselves happily."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Toad made a face. \"I hope not. I'm sick of looking at those ears of yours.\"\n\n\"Ho,\" said Pyp. \"Listen to the crow call the raven black. You're certain to be a ranger, Toad. They'll want you as far from the castle as they can. If Mance Rayder attacks, lift your visor and show your face, and he'll runoff screaming.\"\n\nEveryone laughed but Grenn. \"I hope I'm a ranger.\"\n\n\"You and everyone else,\" said Matthar. Every man who wore the black walked the Wall, and every man was expected to take up steel in its defense, but the rangers were the true fighting heart of the Night's Watch. It was they who dared ride beyond the Wall, sweeping through the haunted forest and the icy mountain heights west of the Shadow Tower, fighting Wildlings and giants and monstrous snow bears.\n\n\"Not everyone,\" said Halder. \"It's the builders for me. What use would rangers be if the Wall fell down?\"\n\nThe order of builders provided the masons and carpenters to repair keeps and towers, the miners to dig tunnels and crush stone for roads and footpaths, the woodsmen to clear away new growth wherever the forest pressed too close to the Wall. Once, it was said, they had quarried immense blocks of ice from frozen lakes deep in the haunted forest, dragging them south on sledges so the Wall might be raised ever higher. Those days were centuries gone, however; now, it was all they could do to ride the Wall from Eastwatch to the Shadow Tower, watching for cracks or signs of melt and making what repairs they could.\n\n\"The Old Bear's no fool,\" Dareon observed. \"You're certain to be a builder, and Jon's certain to be a ranger. He's the best sword and the best rider among us, and his uncle was the First before he...\" His voice trailed off awkwardly as he realized what he had almost said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Benjen Stark is still First Ranger,\" Jon Snow told him, toying with his bowl of blueberries. The rest might have given up all hope of his uncle's safe return, but not him. He pushed away the berries, scarcely touched, and rose from the bench.\n\n\"Aren't you going to eat those?\" Toad asked.\n\n\"They're yours.\" Jon had hardly tasted Hobb's great feast. \"I could not eat another bite.\" He took his cloak from its hook near the door and shouldered his way out.\n\nPyp followed him. \"Jon, what is it?\"\n\n\"Sam,\" he admitted. \"He was not at table tonight.\"\n\n\"It's not like him to miss a meal,\" Pyp said thoughtfully. \"Do you suppose he's taken ill?\"\n\n\"He's frightened. We're leaving him.\" He remembered the day he had left Winterfell, all the bittersweet farewells; Bran lying broken, Robb with snow in his hair, Arya raining kisses on him after he'd given her Needle. \"Once we say our words, we'll all have duties to attend to. Some of us maybe sent away, to Eastwatch or the Shadow Tower. Sam will remain in training, with the likes of Rast and Cuger and these new boys who are coming up the kingsroad. Gods only know what they'll be like, but you can bet Ser Alliser will send them against him, first chance he gets.\"\n\nPyp made a grimace. \"You did all you could.\"\n\n\"All we could wasn't enough,\" Jon said.\n\nA deep restlessness was on him as he went back to Hardin's Tower for Ghost. The direwolf walked beside him to the stables. Some of the more skittish horses kicked at their stalls and laid back their ears as they entered. Jon saddled his mare, mounted, and rode out from Castle Black, south across the moonlit night. Ghost raced ahead of him, flying over the ground, gone in the blink of an eye. Jon let him go. A wolf needed to hunt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had no destination in mind. He wanted only to ride. He followed the creek fora time, listening to the icy trickle of water over rock, then cut across the fields to the kingsroad. It stretched out before him, narrow and stony and pocked with weeds, a road of no particular promise, yet the sight of it filled Jon Snow with avast longing. Winterfell was down that road, and beyond it Riverrun and King's Landing and the Eyrie and so many other places; Casterly Rock, the Isles of Faces, the red mountains of Dorne, the hundred islands of Braavos in the sea, the smoking ruins of old Valyria. All the places that Jon would never see. The world was down that road... and he was here.\n\nOnce he swore his vow, the Wall would be his home until he was old as Maester Aemon. \"I have not sworn yet,\" he muttered. He was no outlaw, bound to take the black or pay the penalty for his crimes. He had come here freely, and he might leave freely... until he said the words. He need only ride on, and he could leave it all behind. By the time the moon was full again, he would be back in Winterfell with his brothers.\n\nYour half brothers, a voice inside reminded him. And Lady Stark, who will not welcome you. There was no place for him in Winterfell, no place in King's Landing either. Even his own mother had not had a place for him. The thought of her made him sad. He wondered who she had been, what she had looked like, why his father had left her. Because she was a whore or an adulteress, fool. Something dark and dishonorable, or else why was Lord Eddard too ashamed to speak of her?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jon Snow turned away from the kingsroad to look behind him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The fires of Castle Black were hidden behind a hill, but the Wall was there, pale beneath the moon, vast and cold, running from horizon to horizon.\n\nHe wheeled his horse around and started for home.\n\nGhost returned as he crested arise and saw the distant glow of lamplight from the Lord Commander's Tower. The direwolf's muzzle was red with blood as he trotted beside the horse. Jon found himself thinking of Samwell Tarly again on the ride back. By the time he reached the stables, he knew what he must do.\n\nMaester Aemon's apartments were in a stout wooden keep below the rookery. Aged and frail, the maester shared his chambers with two of the younger stewards, who tended to his needs and helped him in his duties. The brothers joked that he had been given the two ugliest men in the Night's Watch; being blind, he was spared having to look at them. Clydas was short, bald, and chinless, with small pink eyes like a mole. Chett had a wen on his neck the size of a pigeon's egg, and a face red with boils and pimples. Perhaps that was why he always seemed so angry.\n\nIt was Chett who answered Jon's knock. \"I need to speak to Maester Aemon,\" Jon told him.\n\n\"The maester is abed, as you should be. Comeback on the morrow and maybe he'll see you.\" He began to shut the door.\n\nJon jammed it open with his boot. \"I need to speak to him now. The morning will be too late.\"\n\nChett scowled. \"The maester is not accustomed to being woken in the night. Do you know how old he is?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Old enough to treat visitors with more courtesy than you,\" Jon said. \"Give him my pardons. I would not disturb his rest if it were not important.\"\n\n\"And if I refuse?\"\n\nJon had his boot wedged solidly in the door. \"I can stand here all night if I must.\"\n\nThe black brother made a disgusted noise and opened the door to admit him. \"Wait in the library. There's wood. Start afire. I won't have the maester catching a chill on account of you.\"\n\nJon had the logs crackling merrily by the time Chett led in Maester Aemon. The old man was clad in his bed robe, but around his throat was the chain collar of his order. A maester did not remove it even to sleep. \"The chair beside the fire would be pleasant,\" he said when he felt the warmth on his face. When he was settled comfortably, Chett covered his legs with a fur and went to standby the door.\n\n\"I am sorry to have woken you, Maester,\" Jon Snow said.\n\n\"You did not wake me,\" Maester Aemon replied. \"I find I needless sleep as I grow older, and I am grown very old. I often spend half the night with ghosts, remembering times fifty years pastas if they were yesterday. The mystery of a midnight visitor is a welcome diversion. So tell me, Jon Snow, why have you come calling at this strange hour?\"\n\n\"To ask that Samwell Tarly betaken from training and accepted as a brother of the Night's Watch.\"\n\n\"This is no concern of Maester Aemon,\" Chett complained.\n\n\"Our Lord Commander has given the training of recruits into the hands of Ser Alliser Thorne,\" the maester said gently. \"Only he may say when a boy is ready to swear his vow, as you surely know. Why then come tome?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The Lord Commander listens to you,\" Jon told him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And the wounded and the sick of the Night's Watch are in your charge.\"\n\n\"And is your friend Samwell wounded or sick?\"\n\n\"He will be,\" Jon promised, \"unless you help.\"\n\nHe told them all of it, even the part where he'd set Ghost at Rast's throat. Maester Aemon listened silently, blind eyes fixed on the fire, but Chett's face darkened with each word. \"Without us to keep him safe, Sam will have no chance,\" Jon finished. \"He's hopeless with a sword. My sister Arya could tear him apart, and she's not yet ten. If Ser Alliser makes him fight, it's only a matter of time before he's hurt or killed.\"\n\nChett could stand no more. \"I've seen this fat boy in the common hall,\" he said. \"He is a pig, and a hopeless craven as well, if what you say is true.\"\n\n\"Maybe it is so,\" Maester Aemon said. \"Tell me, Chett, what would you have us do with such a boy?\"\n\n\"Leave him where he is,\" Chett said. \"The Wallis no place for the weak. Let him train until he is ready, no matter how many years that takes. Ser Alliser shall make a man of him or kill him, as the gods will.\"\n\n\"That's stupid,\" Jon said. He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. \"I remember once I asked Maester Luwin why he wore a chain around his throat.\"\n\nMaester Aemon touched his own collar lightly, his bony, wrinkled finger stroking the heavy metal links. \"Goon.\"\n\n\"He told me that a maester's collar is made of chain to remind him that he is sworn to serve,\" Jon said, remembering. \"I asked why each link was a different metal. A silver chain would look much finer with his grey robes, I said. Maester Luwin laughed. A maester forges his chain with study, he told me. The different metals are each a different kind of learning, gold for the study of money and accounts, silver for healing, iron for warcraft. And he said there were other meanings as well. The collar is supposed to remind a maester of the realm he serves, isn't that so? Lords are gold and knights steel, but two links can't make a chain. You also need silver andiron and lead, tin and copper and bronze and all the rest, and those are farmers and smiths and merchants and the like. A chain needs all sorts of metals, and a land needs all sorts of people.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Maester Aemon smiled. \"And so?\"\n\n\"The Night's Watch needs all sorts too. Why else have rangers and stewards and builders? Lord Randyll couldn't make Sam a warrior, and Ser Alliser won't either. You can't hammer tin into iron, no matter how hard you beat it, but that doesn't mean tin is useless. Why shouldn't Sam be a steward?\"\n\nChett gave an angry scowl. \"I'm a steward. You think it's easy work, fit for cowards? The order of stewards keeps the Watch alive. We hunt and farm, tend the horses, milk the cows, gather firewood, cook the meals. Who do you think makes your clothing? Who brings up supplies from the south? The stewards.\"\n\nMaester Aemon was gentler. \"Is your friend a hunter?\"\n\n\"He hates hunting,\" Jon had to admit.\n\n\"Can he plow afield?\" the maester asked. \"Can he drive a wagon or sail a ship? Could he butcher a cow?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nChett gave a nasty laugh. \"I've seen what happens to soft lordlings when they're put to work. Set them to churning butter and their hands blister and bleed. Give them an axe to split logs, and they cutoff their own foot.\"\n\n\"I know one thing Sam could do better than anyone.\"\n\n\"Yes?\" Maester Aemon prompted.\n\nJon glanced warily at Chett, standing beside the door, his boils red and angry. \"He could help you,\" he said quickly. \"He can do sums, and he knows how to read and write. I know Chett can't read, and Clydas has weak eyes. Sam read every book in his father's library. He'd be good with the ravens too. Animals seem to like him. Ghost took to him straight off. There's a lot he could do, besides fighting. The Night's Watch needs every man. Why kill one, to no end? Make use of him instead.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Maester Aemon closed his eyes, and fora brief moment Jon was afraid that he had gone to sleep."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Finally he said, \"Maester Luwin taught you well, Jon Snow. Your mind is as deft as your blade, it would seem.\"\n\n\"Does that mean...?\"\n\n\"It means I shall think on what you have said,\" the maester told him firmly. \"And now, I believe I am ready to sleep. Chett, show our young brother to the door.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had taken shelter beneath a copse of aspens just off the highroad. Tyrion was gathering dead-wood while their horses took water from a mountain stream. He stooped to pickup a splintered branch and examined it critically. \"Will this do? I am not practiced at starting fires. Morrec did that for me.\"\n\n\"Afire?\" Bronn said, spitting. \"Are you so hungry to die, dwarf? Or have you taken leave of your senses? Afire will bring the clansmen down onus from miles around. I mean to survive this journey, Lannister.\"\n\n\"And how do you hope to do that?\" Tyrion asked. He tucked the branch under his arm and poked around through the sparse undergrowth, looking for more. His back ached from the effort of bending; they had been riding since daybreak, when a stone-faced Ser Lyn Corbray had ushered them through the Bloody Gate and commanded them never to return.\n\n\"We have no chance of fighting our way back,\" Bronn said, \"but two can cover more ground than ten, and attract less notice. The fewer days we spend in these mountains, the more like we are to reach the riverlands. Ride hard and fast, I say. Travel by night and hole up by day, avoid the road where we can, make no noise and light no fires.\"\n\nTyrion Lannister sighed. \"A splendid plan, Bronn. Try it, as you like... and forgive me if I do not linger to bury you.\"\n\n\"You think to outlive me, dwarf?\" The sellsword grinned. He had a dark gap in his smile where the edge of Ser Vardis Egen's shield had cracked a tooth in half.\n\nTyrion shrugged. \"Riding hard and fast by night is a sure way to tumbledown a mountain and crack your skull. I prefer to make my crossing slow and easy. I know you love the taste of horse, Bronn, but if our mounts die under us this time, we'll be trying to saddle shadowcats... and if truth be told, I think the clans will find us no matter what we do. Their eyes are all around us.\" He swept a gloved handover the high, wind-carved crags that surrounded them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bronn grimaced."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then we're dead men, Lannister.\"\n\n\"If so, I prefer to die comfortable,\" Tyrion replied. \"We need afire. The nights are cold up here, and hot food will warm our bellies and lift our spirits. Do you suppose there's any game to be had? Lady Lysa has kindly provided us with a veritable feast of salt beef, hard cheese, and stale bread, but I would hate to break a tooth so far from the nearest maester.\"\n\n\"I can find meat.\" Beneath a fall of black hair, Bronn's dark eyes regarded Tyrion suspiciously. \"I should leave you herewith your fool's fire. If I took your horse, I'd have twice the chance to make it through. What would you do then, dwarf?\"\n\n\"Die, most like.\" Tyrion stooped to get another stick.\n\n\"You don't think I'd do it?\"\n\n\"You'd do it in an instant, if it meant your life. You were quick enough to silence your friend Chiggen when he caught that arrow in his belly.\" Bronn had yanked back the man's head by the hair and driven the point of his dirk in under the ear, and afterward told Catelyn Stark that the other sellsword had died of his wound.\n\n\"He was good as dead,\" Bronn said, \"and his moaning was bringing them down onus. Chiggen would have done the same for me... and he was no friend, only a man I rode with. Make no mistake, dwarf. I fought for you, but I do not love you.\"\n\n\"It was your blade I needed,\" Tyrion said, \"not your love.\" He dumped his armful of wood on the ground.\n\nBronn grinned. \"You're bold as any sellsword, I'll give you that. How did you know I'd take your part?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Know?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion squatted awkwardly on his stunted legs to build the fire. \"I tossed the dice. Back at the inn, you and Chiggen helped take me captive. Why? The others saw it as their duty, for the honor of the lords they served, but not you two. You had no lord, no duty, and precious little honor, so why trouble to involve yourselves?\" He took out his knife and whittled some thin strips of bark off one of the sticks he'd gathered, to serve as kindling. \"Well, why do sellswords do anything? For gold. You were thinking Lady Catelyn would reward you for your help, perhaps even take you into her service. Here, that should do, I hope. Do you have a flint?\"\n\nBronn slid two fingers into the pouch at his belt and tossed down a flint. Tyrion caught it in the air.\n\n\"My thanks,\" he said. \"The thing is, you did not know the Starks. Lord Eddard is a proud, honorable, and honest man, and his lady wife is worse. Oh, no doubt she would have found a coin or two for you when this was allover, and pressed it in your hand with a polite word and a look of distaste, but that's the most you could have hoped for. The Starks look for courage and loyalty and honor in the men they choose to serve them, and if truth be told, you and Chiggen were lowborn scum.\" Tyrion struck the flint against his dagger, trying fora spark. Nothing.\n\nBronn snorted. \"You have a bold tongue, little man. One day someone is like to cut it out and make you eat it.\"\n\n\"Everyone tells me that.\" Tyrion glanced up at the sellsword. \"Did I offend you? My pardons... but you are scum, Bronn, make no mistake. Duty, honor, friendship, what's that to you? No, don't trouble yourself, we both know the answer. Still, you're not stupid. Once we reached the Vale, Lady Stark had no more need of you... but I did, and the one thing the Lannisters have never lacked for is gold. When the moment came to toss the dice, I was counting on your being smart enough to know where your best interest lay. Happily for me, you did.\" He slammed stone and steel together again, fruitlessly."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 45"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Know?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion squatted awkwardly on his stunted legs to build the fire. \"I tossed the dice. Back at the inn, you and Chiggen helped take me captive. Why? The others saw it as their duty, for the honor of the lords they served, but not you two. You had no lord, no duty, and precious little honor, so why trouble to involve yourselves?\" He took out his knife and whittled some thin strips of bark off one of the sticks he'd gathered, to serve as kindling. \"Well, why do sellswords do anything? For gold. You were thinking Lady Catelyn would reward you for your help, perhaps even take you into her service. Here, that should do, I hope. Do you have a flint?\"\n\nBronn slid two fingers into the pouch at his belt and tossed down a flint. Tyrion caught it in the air.\n\n\"My thanks,\" he said. \"The thing is, you did not know the Starks. Lord Eddard is a proud, honorable, and honest man, and his lady wife is worse. Oh, no doubt she would have found a coin or two for you when this was allover, and pressed it in your hand with a polite word and a look of distaste, but that's the most you could have hoped for. The Starks look for courage and loyalty and honor in the men they choose to serve them, and if truth be told, you and Chiggen were lowborn scum.\" Tyrion struck the flint against his dagger, trying fora spark. Nothing.\n\nBronn snorted. \"You have a bold tongue, little man. One day someone is like to cut it out and make you eat it.\"\n\n\"Everyone tells me that.\" Tyrion glanced up at the sellsword. \"Did I offend you? My pardons... but you are scum, Bronn, make no mistake. Duty, honor, friendship, what's that to you? No, don't trouble yourself, we both know the answer. Still, you're not stupid. Once we reached the Vale, Lady Stark had no more need of you... but I did, and the one thing the Lannisters have never lacked for is gold. When the moment came to toss the dice, I was counting on your being smart enough to know where your best interest lay. Happily for me, you did.\" He slammed stone and steel together again, fruitlessly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Here,\" said Bronn, squatting, \"I'll do it.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He took the knife and flint from Tyrion's hands and struck sparks on his first try. A curl of bark began to smolder.\n\n\"Well done,\" Tyrion said. \"Scum you maybe, but you're undeniably useful, and with a sword in your hand you're almost as good as my brother Jaime. What do you want, Bronn? Gold? Land? Women? Keep me alive, and you'll have it.\"\n\nBronn blew gently on the fire, and the flames leapt up higher. \"And if you die?\"\n\n\"Why then, I'll have one mourner whose grief is sincere,\" Tyrion said, grinning. \"The gold ends when I do.\"\n\nThe fire was blazing up nicely. Bronn stood, tucked the flint back into his pouch, and tossed Tyrion his dagger. \"Fair enough,\" he said. \"My sword's yours, then... but don't go looking for me to bend the knee and m'lord you every time you take a shit. I'm no man's toady.\"\n\n\"Nor any man's friend,\" Tyrion said. \"I've no doubt you'd betray meas quick as you did Lady Stark, if you saw a profit in it. If the day ever comes when you're tempted to sell me out, remember this, Bronn-I'll match their price, whatever it is. I like living. And now, do you think you could do something about finding us some supper?\"\n\n\"Take care of the horses,\" Bronn said, unsheathing the long dirk he wore at his hip. He strode into the trees.\n\nAn hour later the horses had been rubbed down and fed, the fire was crackling away merrily, and a haunch of a young goat was turning above the flames, spitting and hissing. \"All we lack now is some good wine to wash down our kid,\" Tyrion said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"That, a woman, and another dozen swords,\" Bronn said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He sat cross-legged beside the fire, honing the edge of his longsword with an oilstone. There was something strangely reassuring about the rasping sound it made when he drew it down the steel. \"It will be full dark soon,\" the sellsword pointed out. \"I'll take first watch... for all the good it will do us. It might be kinder to let them kill us in our sleep.\"\n\n\"Oh, I imagine they'll be here long before it comes to sleep.\" The smell of the roasting meat made Tyrion's mouth water.\n\nBronn watched him across the fire. \"You have a plan,\" he said flatly, with a scrape of steel on stone.\n\n\"A hope, call it,\" Tyrion said. \"Another toss of the dice.\"\n\n\"With our lives as the stake?\"\n\nTyrion shrugged. \"What choice do we have?\" He leaned over the fire and sawed a thin slice of meat from the kid. \"Ahhhh,\" he sighed happily as he chewed. Grease ran down his chin. \"A bit tougher than I'd like, and in want of spicing, but I'll not complain too loudly. If I were back at the Eyrie, I'd be dancing on a precipice in hopes of a boiled bean.\"\n\n\"And yet you gave the turnkey a purse of gold,\" Bronn said.\n\n\"A Lannister always pays his debts.\"\n\nEven Mord had scarcely believed it when Tyrion tossed him the leather purse. The gaoler's eyes had gone big as boiled eggs as he yanked open the drawstring and beheld the glint of gold. \"I kept the silver,\" Tyrion had told him with a crooked smile, \"but you were promised the gold, and there it is.\" It was more than a manlike Mord could hope to earn in a lifetime of abusing prisoners. \"And remember what I said, this is only a taste. If you ever grow tired of Lady Arryn's service, present yourself at Casterly Rock, and I'll pay you the rest of what I owe you.\" With golden dragons spilling out of both hands, Mord had fallen to his knees and promised that he would do just that."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bronn yanked out his dirk and pulled the meat from the fire. He began to carve thick chunks of charred meat off the bone as Tyrion hollowed out two heels of stale bread to serve as trenchers. \"If we do reach the river, what will you do then?\" the sellsword asked as he cut.\n\n\"Oh, a whore and a featherbed and a flagon of wine, fora start.\" Tyrion held out his trencher, and Bronn filled it with meat. \"And then to Casterly Rock or King's Landing, I think. I have some questions that want answering, concerning a certain dagger.\"\n\nThe sellsword chewed and swallowed. \"So you were telling it true? It was not your knife?\"\n\nTyrion smiled thinly. \"Do I look a liar to you?\"\n\nBy the time their bellies were full, the stars had come out and a half-moon was rising over the mountains. Tyrion spread his shadowskin cloak on the ground and stretched outwith his saddle fora pillow. \"Our friends are taking their sweet time.\"\n\n\"If I were them, I'd fear a trap,\" Bronn said. \"Why else would we be so open, if not to lure them in?\"\n\nTyrion chuckled. \"Then we ought to sing and send them fleeing in terror.\" He began to whistle a tune.\n\n\"You're mad, dwarf,\" Bronn said as he cleaned the grease out from under his nails with his dirk.\n\n\"Where's your love of music, Bronn?\"\n\n\"If it was music you wanted, you should have gotten the singer to champion you.\"\n\nTyrion grinned. \"That would have been amusing. I can just see him fending off Ser Vardis with his woodharp.\" He resumed his whistling. \"Do you know this song?\" he asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You hear it here and there, in inns and whorehouses.\"\n\n\"Myrish. \"The Seasons of My Love.\" Sweet and sad, if you understand the words. The first girl I ever bedded used to sing it, and I've never been able to put it out of my head.\" Tyrion gazed up at the sky. It was a clear cold night and the stars shone down upon the mountains as bright and merciless as truth. \"I met heron a night like this,\" he heard himself saying. \" Jaime and I were riding back from Lannisport when we heard a scream, and she came running out into the road with two men dogging her heels, shouting threats. My brother unsheathed his sword and went after them, while I dismounted to protect the girl. She was scarcely a year older than I was, dark-haired, slender, with a face that would break your heart. It certainly broke mine. Lowborn, half-starved, unwashed... yet lovely. They'd torn the rags she was wearing half off her back, so I wrapped her in my cloak while Jaime chased the men into the woods. By the time he came trotting back, I'd gotten a name out of her, and a story. She was a crofter's child, orphaned when her father died of fever, on her way to... well, nowhere, really.\n\n\"Jaime was all in a lather to hunt down the men. It was not often outlaws dared prey on travelers so near to Casterly Rock, and he took it as an insult. The girl was too frightened to sendoff by herself, though, so I offered to take her to the closest inn and feed her while my brother rode back to the Rock for help.\n\n\"She was hungrier than I would have believed. We finished two whole chickens and part of a third, and drank a flagon of wine, talking. I was only thirteen, and the wine went to my head, I fear. The next thing I knew, I was sharing her bed. If she was shy, I was shyer. I'll never know where I found the courage. When I broke her maidenhead, she wept, but afterward she kissed me and sang her little song, and by morning I was in love.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You?\" Bronn's voice was amused.\n\n\"Absurd, isn't it?\" Tyrion began to whistle the song again. \"I married her,\" he finally admitted.\n\n\"A Lannister of Casterly Rock wed to a crofter's daughter,\" Bronn said. \"How did you manage that?\"\n\n\"Oh, you'd be astonished at what a boy can make of a few lies, fifty pieces of silver, and a drunken septon. I dared not bring my bride home to Casterly Rock, so I set her up in a cottage of her own, and fora fortnight we played at being man and wife. And then the septon sobered and confessed all to my lord father.\" Tyrion was surprised at how desolate it made him feel to say it, even after all these years. Perhaps he was just tired. \"That was the end of my marriage.\" He sat up and stared at the dying fire, blinking at the light.\n\n\"He sent the girl away?\"\n\n\"He did better than that,\" Tyrion said. \" First he made my brother tell me the truth. The girl was a whore, you see. Jaime arranged the whole affair, the road, the outlaws, all of it. He thought it was time I had a woman. He paid double fora maiden, knowing it would be my first time.\n\n\"After Jaime had made his confession, to drive home the lesson, Lord Tywin brought my wife in and gave her to his guards. They paid her fair enough. A silver for each man, how many whores command that high a price? He sat me down in the corner of the barracks and bade me watch, and at the end she had so many silvers the coins were slipping through her fingers and rolling on the floor, she...\" The smoke was stinging his eyes. Tyrion cleared his throat and turned away from the fire, to gaze out into darkness. \"Lord Tywin had me go last,\" he said in a quiet voice. \"And he gave me a gold coin to pay her, because I was a Lannister, and worth more.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "After a time he heard the noise again, the rasp of steel on stone as Bronn sharpened his sword."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thirteen or thirty or three, I would have killed the man who did that tome.\"\n\nTyrion swung around to face him. \"You may get that chance one day. Remember what I told you. A Lannister always pays his debts.\" He yawned. \"I think I will try and sleep. Wake me if we're about to die.\"\n\nHe rolled himself up in the shadowskin and shut his eyes. The ground was stony and cold, but after a time Tyrion Lannister did sleep. He dreamt of the sky cell. This time he was the gaoler, not the prisoner, big, with a strap in his hand, and he was hitting his father, driving him back, toward the abyss...\n\n\"Tyrion.\" Bronn's warning was low and urgent.\n\nTyrion was awake in the blink of an eye. The fire had burned down to embers, and the shadows were creeping in all around them. Bronn had raised himself to one knee, his sword in one hand and his dirk in the other. Tyrion held up a hand: stay still, it said. \"Come share our fire, the night is cold,\" he called out to the creeping shadows. \"I fear we've no wine to offer you, but you're welcome to some of our goat.\"\n\nAll movement stopped. Tyrion saw the glint of moonlight on metal. \"Our mountain,\" a voice called out from the trees, deep and hard and unfriendly. \"Our goat.\"\n\n\"Your goat,\" Tyrion agreed. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"When you meet your gods,\" a different voice replied, \"say it was Gunthor son of Gurn of the Stone Crows who sent you to them.\" A branch cracked underfoot as he stepped into the light; a thin man in a horned helmet, armed with along knife."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And Shagga son of Dolf.\" That was the first voice, deep and deadly. A boulder shifted to their left, and stood, and became a man. Massive and slow and strong he seemed, dressed all in skins, with a club in his right hand and an axe in his left. He smashed them together as he lumbered closer.\n\nOther voices called other names, Conn and Torrek and Jaggot and more that Tyrion forgot the instant he heard them; ten at least. A few had swords and knives; others brandished pitchforks and scythes and wooden spears. He waited until they were done shouting out their names before he gave them answer. \"I am Tyrion son of Tywin, of the Clan Lannister, the Lions of the Rock. We will gladly pay you for the goat we ate.\"\n\n\"What do you have to give us, Tyrion son of Tywin?\" asked the one who named himself Gunthor, who seemed to be their chief.\n\n\"There is silver in my purse,\" Tyrion told them. \"This hauberk I wear is large for me, but it should fit Conn nicely, and the battle-axe I carry would suit Shagga's mighty hand far better than that wood-axe he holds.\"\n\n\"The half man would pay us with our own coin,\" said Conn.\n\n\"Conn speaks truly,\" Gunthor said. \"Your silver is ours. Your horses are ours. Your hauberk and your battle-axe and the knife at your belt, those are ours too. You have nothing to give us but your lives. How would you like to die, Tyrion son of Tywin?\"\n\n\"In my own bed, with a belly full of wine and a maiden's mouth around my cock, at the age of eighty,\" he replied."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The huge one, Shagga, laughed first and loudest."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The others seemed less amused. \"Conn, take their horses,\" Gunthor commanded. \"Kill the other and seize the halfman. He can milk the goats and make the mothers laugh.\"\n\nBronn sprang to his feet. \"Who dies first?\"\n\n\"No!\" Tyrion said sharply. \"Gunthor son of Gurn, hear me. My House is rich and powerful. If the Stone Crows will see us safely through these mountains, my lord father will shower you with gold.\"\n\n\"The gold of a lowland lord is as worthless as a half man's promises,\" Gunthor said.\n\n\"Half a man I maybe,\" Tyrion said, \"yet I have the courage to face my enemies. What do the Stone Crows do, but hide behind rocks and shiver with fear as the knights of the Vale ride by?\"\n\nShagga gave a roar of anger and clashed club against axe. Jaggot poked at Tyrion's face with the fire-hardened point of along wooden spear. He did his best not to flinch. \"Are these the best weapons you could steal?\" he said. \"Good enough for killing sheep, perhaps... if the sheep do not fightback. My father's smiths shit better steel.\"\n\n\"Little boyman,\" Shagga roared, \"will you mock my axe after I chop off your manhood and feed it to the goats?\"\n\nBut Gunthor raised a hand. \"No. I would hear his words. The mothers go hungry, and steel fills more mouths than gold. What would you give us for your lives, Tyrion son of Tywin? Swords? Lances? Mail?\"\n\n\"All that, and more, Gunthor son of Gurn,\" Tyrion Lannister replied, smiling. \"I will give you the Vale of Arryn.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Through the high narrow windows of the Red Keep's cavernous throne room, the light of sunset spilled across the floor, laying dark red stripes upon the walls where the heads of dragons had once hung. Now the stone was covered with hunting tapestries, vivid with greens and browns and blues, and yet still it seemed to Ned Stark that the only color in the hall was the red of blood.\n\nHe sat high upon the immense ancient seat of Aegon the Conqueror, an ironwork monstrosity of spikes and jagged edges and grotesquely twisted metal. It was, as Robert had warned him, a hellishly uncomfortable chair, and nevermore so than now, with his shattered leg throbbing more sharply every minute. The metal beneath him had grown harder by the hour, and the fanged steel behind made it impossible to lean back. A king should never sit easy, Aegon the Conqueror had said, when he commanded his armorers to forge a great seat from the swords laid down by his enemies. Damn Aegon for his arrogance, Ned thought sullenly, and damn Robert and his hunting as well.\n\n\"You are quite certain these were more than brigands?\" Varys asked softly from the council table beneath the throne. Grand Maester Pycelle stirred uneasily beside him, while Littlefinger toyed with a pen. They were the only councillors in attendance. A white hart had been sighted in the kingswood, and Lord Renly and Ser Barristan had joined the king to hunt it, along with Prince Joffrey, Sandor Clegane, Balon Swann, and half the court. So Ned must needs sit the Iron Throne in his absence.\n\nAt least he could sit. Save the council, the rest must stand respectfully, or kneel. The petitioners clustered near the tall doors, the knights and high lords and ladies beneath the tapestries, the smallfolk in the gallery, the mailed guards in their cloaks, gold or grey: all stood."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The villagers were kneeling: men, women, and children, alike tattered and bloody, their faces drawn by fear. The three knights who had brought them hereto bear witness stood behind them.\n\n\"Brigands, Lord Varys?\" Ser Raymun Darry's voice dripped scorn. \"Oh, they were brigands, beyond a doubt. Lannister brigands.\"\n\nNed could feel the unease in the hall, as high lords and servants alike strained to listen. He could not pretend to surprise. The west had been a tinderbox since Catelyn had seized Tyrion Lannister. Both Riverrun and Casterly Rock had called their banners, and armies were massing in the pass below the Golden Tooth. It had only been a matter of time until the blood began to flow. The sole question that remained was how best to stanch the wound.\n\nSad-eyed Ser Karyl Vance, who would have been handsome but for the winestain birthmark that discolored his face, gestured at the kneeling villagers. \"This is all the remains of the holdfast of Sherrer, Lord Eddard. The rest are dead, along with the people of Wendish Town and the Mummer's Ford.\"\n\n\"Rise,\" Ned commanded the villagers. He never trusted what a man told him from his knees. \"All of you, up.\"\n\nIn ones and twos, the holdfast of Sherrer struggled to its feet. One ancient needed to be helped, and a young girl in a bloody dress stayed on her knees, staring blankly at Ser Arys Oakheart, who stood by the foot of the throne in the white armor of the Kingsguard, ready to protect and defend the king... or, Ned supposed, the King's Hand."
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Joss,\" Ser Raymun Darry said to a plump balding man in a brewer's apron. \"Tell the Hand what happened at Sherrer.\"\n\nJoss nodded. \"If it please His Grace-\"\n\n\"His Grace is hunting across the Blackwater,\" Ned said, wondering how a man could live his whole life a few days ride from the Red Keep and still have no notion what his king looked like. Ned was clad in a white linen doublet with the direwolf of Stark on the breast; his black wool cloak was fastened at the collar by his silver hand of office. Black and white and grey, all the shades of truth. \"I am Lord Eddard Stark, the King's Hand. Tell me who you are and what you know of these raiders.\"\n\n\"I keep... I kept... I kept an alehouse, m'lord, in Sherrer, by the stone bridge. The finest ale south of the Neck, everyone said so, begging your pardons, m'lord. It's gone now like all the rest, m'lord. They come and drank their fill and spilled the rest before they fired my roof, and they would of spilled my blood too, if they'd caught me. M'lord.\"\n\n\"They burnt us out,\" a farmer beside him said. \"Come riding in the dark, up from the south, and fired the fields and the houses alike, killing them as tried to stop them. They weren't no raiders, though, m'lord. They had no mind to steal our stock, not these, they butchered my milk cow where she stood and left her for the flies and the crows.\"\n\n\"They rode down my \"prentice boy,\" said a squat man with a smith's muscles and a bandage around his head. He had put on his finest clothes to come to court, but his breeches were patched, his cloak travel-stained and dusty. \"Chased him back and forth across the fields on their horses, poking at him with their lances like it was a game, them laughing and the boy stumbling and screaming till the big one pierced him clean through.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The girl on her knees craned her head up at Ned, high above heron the throne. \"They killed my mother too, Your Grace. And they... they...\" Her voice trailed off, as if she had forgotten what she was about to say. She began to sob.\n\nSer Raymun Darry took up the tale. \"At Wendish Town, the people sought shelter in their holdfast, but the walls were timbered. The raiders piled straw against the wood and burnt them all alive. When the Wendish folk opened their gates to flee the fire, they shot them down with arrows as they came running out, even women with suckling babes.\"\n\n\"Oh, dreadful,\" murmured Varys. \"How cruel can men be?\"\n\n\"They would of done the same for us, but the Sherrer holdfast's made of stone,\" Joss said. \"Some wanted to smoke us out, but the big one said there was riper fruit upriver, and they made for the Mummer's Ford.\"\n\nNed could feel cold steel against his fingers as he leaned forward. Between each finger was a blade, the points of twisted swords fanning out like talons from arms of the throne. Even after three centuries, some were still sharp enough to cut. The Iron Throne was full of traps for the unwary. The songs said it had taken a thousand blades to make it, heated white-hot in the furnace breath of Balerion the Black Dread. The hammering had taken fifty-nine days. The end of it was this hunched black beast made of razor edges and barbs and ribbons of sharp metal; a chair that could kill a man, and had, if the stories could be believed.\n\nWhat Eddard Stark was doing sitting there he would never comprehend, yet there he sat, and these people looked to him for justice. \"What proof do you have that these were Lannisters?\" he asked, trying to keep his fury under control. \"Did they wear crimson cloaks or fly a lion banner?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Even Lannisters are not so blind stupid as that,\" Ser Marq Piper snapped. He was a swaggering bantam rooster of a youth, too young and too hot-blooded for Ned's taste, though a fast friend of Catelyn's brother, Edmure Tully.\n\n\"Every man among them was mounted and mailed, my lord,\" Ser Karyl answered calmly. \"They were armed with steel-tipped lances and longswords, with battle-axes for the butchering.\" He gestured toward one of the ragged survivors. \"You. Yes, you, no one's going to hurt you. Tell the Hand what you told me.\"\n\nThe old man bobbed his head. \"Concerning their horses,\" he said, \"it were warhorses they rode. Many a year I worked in old Ser Willum's stables, so I knows the difference. Not a one of these ever pulled a plow, gods bear witness if I'm wrong.\"\n\n\"Well-mounted brigands,\" observed Littlefinger. \"Perhaps they stole the horses from the last place they raided.\"\n\n\"How many men were therein this raiding party?\" Ned asked.\n\n\"A hundred, at the least,\" Joss answered, in the same instant as the bandaged smith said, \"Fifty,\" and the grandmother behind him, \"Hunnerds and hunnerds, m'lord, an army they was.\"\n\n\"You are more right than you know, goodwoman,\" Lord Eddard told her. \"You say they flew no banners. What of the armor they wore? Did any of you note ornaments or decorations, devices on shield or helm?\"\n\nThe brewer, Joss, shook his head. \"It grieves me, m'lord, but no, the armor they showed us was plain, only... the one who led them, he was armored like the rest, but there was no mistaking him all the same. It was the size of him, m'lord. Those assay the giants are all dead never saw this one, I swear. Big as an ox he was, and a voice like stone breaking.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The Mountain!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Marq said loudly. \"Can any man doubt it? This was Gregor Clegane's work.\"\n\nNed heard muttering from beneath the windows and the far end of the hall. Even in the galley, nervous whispers were exchanged. High lords and smallfolk alike knew what it could mean if Ser Marq was proved right. Ser Gregor Clegane stood bannerman to Lord Tywin Lannister.\n\nHe studied the frightened faces of the villagers. Small wonder they had been so fearful; they had thought they were being dragged hereto name Lord Tywin a red-handed butcher before a king who was his son by marriage. He wondered if the knights had given them a choice.\n\nGrand Maester Pycelle rose ponderously from the council table, his chain of office clinking. \"Ser Marq, with respect, you cannot know that this outlaw was Ser Gregor. There are many large men in the realm.\"\n\n\"As large as the Mountain That Rides?\" Ser Karyl said. \"I have never met one.\"\n\n\"Nor has any man here,\" Ser Raymun added hotly. \"Even his brother is a pup beside him. My lords, open your eyes. Do you need to see his seal on the corpses? It was Gregor.\"\n\n\"Why should Ser Gregor turn brigand?\" Pycelle asked. \"By the grace of his liege lord, he holds a stout keep and lands of his own. The man is an anointed knight.\"\n\n\"A false knight!\" Ser Marq said. \"Lord Tywin's mad dog.\"\n\n\"My lord Hand,\" Pycelle declared in a stiff voice, \"I urge you to remind this good knight that Lord Tywin Lannister is the father of our own gracious queen.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you, Grand Maester Pycelle,\" Ned said. \"I fear we might have forgotten that if you had not pointed it out.\"\n\nFrom his vantage point atop the throne, he could see men slipping out the door at the far end of the hall. Hares going to ground, he supposed... or rats off to nibble the queen's cheese. He caught a glimpse of Septa Mordane in the gallery, with his daughter Sansa beside her. Ned felt a flash of anger; this was no place fora girl. But the septa could not have known that today's court would be anything but the usual tedious business of hearing petitions, settling disputes between rival holdfasts, and adjudicating the placement of boundary stones.\n\nAt the council table below, Petyr Baelish lost interest in his quill and leaned forward. \"Ser Marq, Ser Karyl, Ser Raymun-perhaps I might ask you a question? These holdfasts were under your protection. Where were you when all this slaughtering and burning was going on?\"\n\nSer Karyl Vance answered. \"I was attending my lord father in the pass below the Golden Tooth, as was Ser Marq. When the word of these outrages reached Ser Edmure Tully, he sent word that we should take a small force of men to find what survivors we could and bring them to the king.\"\n\nSer Raymun Darry spoke up. \"Ser Edmure had summoned me to Riverrun with all my strength. I was camped across the river from his walls, awaiting his commands, when the word reached me. By the time I could return to my own lands, Clegane and his vermin were back across the Red Fork, riding for Lannister's hills.\"\n\nLittlefinger stroked the point of his beard thoughtfully. \"And if they come again, ser?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If they come again, we'll use their blood to water the fields they burnt,\" Ser Marq Piper declared hotly.\n\n\"Ser Edmure has sent men to every village and holdfast within a day's ride of the border,\" Ser Karyl explained. \"The next raider will not have such an easy time of it.\"\n\nAnd that maybe precisely what Lord Tywin wants, Ned thought to himself, to bleed off strength from Riverrun, goad the boy into scattering his swords. His wife's brother was young, and more gallant than wise. He would try to hold every inch of his soil, to defend every man, woman, and child who named him lord, and Tywin Lannister was shrewd enough to know that.\n\n\"If your fields and holdfasts are safe from harm,\" Lord Petyr was saying, \"what then do you ask of the throne?\"\n\n\"The lords of the Trident keep the king's peace,\" Ser Raymun Darry said. \"The Lannisters have broken it. We ask leave to answer them, steel for steel. We ask justice for the smallfolk of Sherrer and Wendish Town and the Mummer's Ford.\"\n\n\"Edmure agrees, we must pay Gregor Clegane back his bloody coin,\" Ser Marq declared, \"but old Lord Hoster commanded us to come here and beg the king's leave before we strike.\"\n\nThank the gods for old Lord Hoster, then. Tywin Lannister was as much fox as lion. If indeed he'd sent Ser Gregor to burn and pillage-and Ned did not doubt that he had-he'd taken care to see that he rode undercover of night, without banners, in the guise of a common brigand. Should Riverrun strike back, Cersei and her father would insist that it had been the Tullys who broke the king's peace, not the Lannisters. The gods only knew what Robert would believe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Grand Maester Pycelle was on his feet again. \"My lord Hand, if these good folk believe that Ser Gregor has forsaken his holy vows for plunder and rape, let them go to his liege lord and make their complaint. These crimes are no concern of the throne. Let them seek Lord Tywin's justice.\"\n\n\"It is all the king's justice,\" Ned told him. \"North, south, east, or west, all we do we do in Robert's name.\"\n\n\"The king's justice,\" Grand Maester Pycelle said. \"So it is, and so we should defer this matter until the king-\"\n\n\"The king is hunting across the river and may not return for days,\" Lord Eddard said. \"Robert bid me to sit herein his place, to listen with his ears, and to speak with his voice. I mean to do just that... though I agree that he must be told.\" He saw a familiar face beneath the tapestries. \"Ser Robar.\"\n\nSer Robar Royce stepped forward and bowed. \"My lord.\"\n\n\"Your father is hunting with the king,\" Ned said. \"Will you bring them word of what was said and done here today?\"\n\n\"At once, my lord.\"\n\n\"Do we have your leave to take our vengeance against Ser Gregor, then?\" Marq Piper asked the throne.\n\n\"Vengeance?\" Ned said. \"I thought we were speaking of justice. Burning Clegane's fields and slaughtering his people will not restore the king's peace, only your injured pride.\" He glanced away before the young knight could voice his outraged protest, and addressed the villagers. \"People of Sherrer, I cannot give you back your homes or your crops, nor can I restore your dead to life. But perhaps I can give you some small measure of justice, in the name of our king, Robert.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Every eye in the hall was fixed on him, waiting."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Slowly Ned struggled to his feet, pushing himself up from the throne with the strength of his arms, his shattered leg screaming inside its cast. He did his best to ignore the pain; it was no moment to let them see his weakness. \"The First Men believed that the judge who called for death should wield the sword, and in the north we hold to that still. I mislike sending another to do my killing... yet it seems I have no choice.\" He gestured at his broken leg.\n\n\"Lord Eddard!\" The shout came from the west side of the hall as a handsome stripling of a boy strode forth boldly. Out of his armor, Ser Loras Tyrell looked even younger than his sixteen years. He wore pale blue silk, his belt a linked chain of golden roses, the sigil of his House. \"I beg you the honor of acting in your place. Give this task tome, my lord, and I swear I shall not fail you.\"\n\nLittlefinger chuckled. \"Ser Loras, if we send you off alone, Ser Gregor will send us back your head with a plum stuffed in that pretty mouth of yours. The Mountain is not the sort to bend his neck to any man's justice.\"\n\n\"I do not fear Gregor Clegane,\" Ser Loras said haughtily.\n\nNed eased himself slowly back onto the hard iron seat of Aegon's misshapen throne. His eyes searched the faces along the wall. \"Lord Beric,\" he called out. \"Thoros of Myr. Ser Gladden. Lord Lothar.\" The men named stepped forward one by one. \"Each of you is to assemble twenty men, to bring my word to Gregor's keep. Twenty of my own guards shall go with you. Lord Beric Dondarrion, you shall have the command, as befits your rank.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The young lord with the red-gold hair bowed. \"As you command, Lord Eddard.\"\n\nNed raised his voice, so it carried to the far end of the throne room. \"In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, his Hand, I charge you to ride to the westlands with all haste, to cross the Red Fork of the Trident under the king's flag, and there bring the king's justice to the false knight Gregor Clegane, and to all those who shared in his crimes. I denounce him, and attaint him, and strip him of all rank and titles, of all lands and incomes and holdings, and do sentence him to death. May the gods take pity on his soul.\"\n\nWhen the echo of his words had died away, the Knight of Flowers seemed perplexed. \"Lord Eddard, what of me?\"\n\nNed looked down on him. From on high, Loras Tyrell seemed almost as young as Robb. \"No one doubts your valor, Ser Loras, but we are about justice here, and what you seek is vengeance.\" He looked back to Lord Beric. \"Ride at first light. These things are best done quickly.\" He held up a hand. \"The throne will hear no more petitions today.\"\n\nAlyn and Porther climbed the steep iron steps to help him back down. As they made their descent, he could feel Loras Tyrell's sullen stare, but the boy had stalked away before Ned reached the floor of the throne room.\n\nAt the base of the Iron Throne, Varys was gathering papers from the council table. Littlefinger and Grand Maester Pycelle had already taken their leave. \"You area bolder man than I, my lord,\" the eunuch said softly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How so, Lord Varys?\" Ned asked brusquely. His leg was throbbing, and he was in no mood for word games.\n\n\"Had it been me up there, I should have sent Ser Loras. He so wanted to go... and a man who has the Lannisters for his enemies would do well to make the Tyrells his friends.\"\n\n\"Ser Loras is young,\" said Ned. \"I daresay he will outgrow the disappointment.\"\n\n\"And Ser Ilyn?\" The eunuch stroked a plump, powdered cheek. \"He is the King's Justice, after all. Sending other men to do his office... some might construe that as a grave insult.\"\n\n\"No slight was intended.\" In truth, Ned did not trust the mute knight, though perhaps that was only because he misliked executioners. \"I remind you, the Paynes are bannermen to House Lannister. I thought it best to choose men who owed Lord Tywin no fealty.\"\n\n\"Very prudent, no doubt,\" Varys said. \"Still, I chanced to see Ser Ilyn in the back of the hall, staring at us with those pale eyes of his, and I must say, he did not look pleased, though to be sure it is hard to tell with our silent knight. I hope he outgrows his disappointment as well. He does so love his work...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He wouldn't send Ser Loras,\" Sansa told Jeyne Poole that night as they shared a cold supper by lamplight. \"I think it was because of his leg.\"\n\nLord Eddard had taken his supper in his bedchamber with Alyn, Harwin, and Vayon Poole, the better to rest his broken leg, and Septa Mordane had complained of sore feet after standing in the gallery all day. Arya was supposed to join them, but she was late coming back from her dancing lesson.\n\n\"His leg?\" Jeyne said uncertainly. She was a pretty, dark-haired girl of Sansa's own age. \"Did Ser Loras hurt his leg?\"\n\n\"Not his leg,\" Sansa said, nibbling delicately at a chicken leg. \"Father's leg, silly. It hurts him ever so much, it makes him cross. Otherwise I'm certain he would have sent Ser Loras.\"\n\nHer father's decision still bewildered her. When the Knight of Flowers had spoken up, she'd been sure she was about to see one of Old Nan's stories come to life. Ser Gregor was the monster and Ser Loras the true hero who would slay him. He even looked a true hero, so slim and beautiful, with golden roses around his slender waist and his rich brown hair tumbling down into his eyes. And then Father had refused him! It had upset her more than she could tell. She had said as much to Septa Mordane as they descended the stairs from the gallery, but the septa had only told her it was not her place to question her lord father's decisions.\n\nThat was when Lord Baelish had said, \"Oh, I don't know, Septa. Some of her lord father's decisions could do with a bit of questioning. The young lady is as wise as she is lovely.\" He made a sweeping bow to Sansa, so deep she was not quite sure if she was being complimented or mocked."
},
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Septa Mordane had been very upset to realize that Lord Baelish had overheard them. \"The girl was just talking, my lord,\" she'd said. \"Foolish chatter. She meant nothing by the comment.\"\n\nLord Baelish stroked his little pointed beard and said, \"Nothing? Tell me, child, why would you have sent Ser Loras?\"\n\nSansa had no choice but to explain about heroes and monsters. The king's councillor smiled. \"Well, those are not the reasons I'd have given, but...\" He had touched her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing the line of a cheekbone. \"Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow.\"\n\nSansa did not feel like telling all that to Jeyne, however; it made her uneasy just to think back on it.\n\n\"Ser Ilyn's the King's Justice, not Ser Loras,\" Jeyne said. \"Lord Eddard should have sent him.\"\n\nSansa shuddered. Every time she looked at Ser Ilyn Payne, she shivered. He made her feel as though something dead were slithering over her naked skin. \"Ser Ilyn's almost like a second monster. I'm glad Father didn't pick him.\"\n\n\"Lord Beric is as much a hero as Ser Loras. He's ever so brave and gallant.\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" Sansa said doubtfully. Beric Dondarrion was handsome enough, but he was awfully old, almost twenty-two; the Knight of Flowers would have been much better. Of course, Jeyne had been in love with Lord Beric ever since she had first glimpsed him in the lists. Sansa thought she was being silly; Jeyne was only a steward's daughter, after all, and no matter how much she mooned after him, Lord Beric would never look at someone so far beneath him, even if she hadn't been half his age."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It would have been unkind to say so, however, so Sansa took a sip of milk and changed the subject. \"I had a dream that Joffrey would be the one to take the white hart,\" she said. It had been more of a wish, actually, but it sounded better to call it a dream. Everyone knew that dreams were prophetic. White harts were supposed to be very rare and magical, and in her heart she knew her gallant prince was worthier than his drunken father.\n\n\"A dream? Truly? Did Prince Joffrey just go up to it and touch it with his bare hand and do it no harm?\"\n\n\"No,\" Sansa said. \"He shot it with a golden arrow and brought it back for me.\" In the songs, the knights never killed magical beasts, they just went up to them and touched them and did them no harm, but she knew Joffrey liked hunting, especially the killing part. Only animals, though. Sansa was certain her prince had no part in murdering Jory and those other poor men; that had been his wicked uncle, the Kingslayer. She knew her father was still angry about that, but it wasn't fair to blame Joff. That would be like blaming her for something that Arya had done.\n\n\"I saw your sister this afternoon,\" Jeyne blurted out, as if she'd been reading Sansa's thoughts. \"She was walking through the stables on her hands. Why would she do a thing like that?\"\n\n\"I'm sure I don't know why Arya does anything.\" Sansa hated stables, smelly places full of manure and flies. Even when she went riding, she liked the boy to saddle the horse and bring it to her in the yard. \"Do you want to hear about the court or not?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I do,\" Jeyne said.\n\n\"There was a black brother,\" Sansa said, \"begging men for the Wall, only he was kind of old and smelly.\" She hadn't liked that at all. She had always imagined the Night's Watch to be men like Uncle Benjen. In the songs, they were called the black knights of the Wall. But this man had been crookbacked and hideous, and he looked as though he might have lice. If this was what the Night's Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon. \"Father asked if there were any knights in the hall who would do honor to their houses by taking the black, but no one came forward, so he gave this Yoren his pick of the king's dungeons and sent him on his way. And later these two brothers came before him, freeriders from the Dornish Marches, and pledged their swords to the service of the king. Father accepted their oaths...\"\n\nJeyne yawned. \"Are there any lemon cakes?\"\n\nSansa did not like being interrupted, but she had to admit, lemon cakes sounded more interesting than most of what had gone on in the throne room. \"Let's see,\" she said.\n\nThe kitchen yielded no lemon cakes, but they did find half of a cold strawberry pie, and that was almost as good. They ate it on the tower steps, giggling and gossiping and sharing secrets, and Sansa went to bed that night feeling almost as wicked as Arya.\n\nThe next morning she woke before first light and crept sleepily to her window to watch Lord Beric form up his men. They rode out as dawn was breaking over the city, with three banners going before them; the crowned stag of the king flew from the high staff, the direwolf of Stark and Lord Beric's own forked lightning standard from shorter poles. It was all so exciting, a song come to life; the clatter of swords, the flicker of torchlight, banners dancing in the wind, horses snorting and whinnying, the golden glow of sunrise slanting through the bars of the portcullis as it jerked upward. The Winterfell men looked especially fine in their silvery mail and long grey cloaks."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Alyn carried the Stark banner. When she saw him rein in beside Lord Beric to exchange words, it made Sansa feel ever so proud. Alyn was handsomer than Jory had been; he was going to be a knight one day.\n\nThe Tower of the Hand seemed so empty after they left that Sansa was even pleased to see Arya when she went down to break her fast. \"Where is everyone?\" her sister wanted to know as she ripped the skin from a blood orange. \"Did Father send them to hunt down Jaime Lannister?\"\n\nSansa sighed. \"They rode with Lord Beric, to behead Ser Gregor Clegane.\" She turned to Septa Mordane, who was eating porridge with a wooden spoon. \"Septa, will Lord Beric spike Ser Gregor's head on his own gate or bring it back here for the king?\" She and Jeyne Poole had been arguing over that last night.\n\nThe septa was horror-struck. \"A lady does not discuss such things over her porridge. Where are your courtesies, Sansa? I swear, of late you've been near as bad as your sister.\"\n\n\"What did Gregor do?\" Arya asked.\n\n\"He burned down a holdfast and murdered a lot of people, women and children too.\"\n\nArya screwed up her face in a scowl. \"Jaime Lannister murdered Jory and Heward and Wyl, and the Hound murdered Mycah. Somebody should have beheaded them.\"\n\n\"It's not the same,\" Sansa said. \"The Hound is Joffrey's sworn shield. Your butcher's boy attacked the prince.\"\n\n\"Liar,\" Arya said. Her hand clenched the blood orange so hard that red juice oozed between her fingers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Go ahead, call me all the names you want,\" Sansa said airily."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You won't dare when I'm married to Joffrey. You'll have to bow tome and call me Your Grace.\" She shrieked as Arya flung the orange across the table. It caught her in the middle of the forehead with a wet squish and plopped down into her lap.\n\n\"You have juice on your face, Your Grace,\" Arya said.\n\nIt was running down her nose and stinging her eyes. Sansa wiped it away with a napkin. When she saw what the fruit in her lap had done to her beautiful ivory silk dress, she shrieked again. \"You're horrible,\" she screamed at her sister. \"They should have killed you instead of Lady!\"\n\nSepta Mordane came lurching to her feet. \"Your lord father will hear of this! Go to your chambers, at once. At once!\"\n\n\"Me too?\" Tears welled in Sansa's eyes. \"That's not fair.\"\n\n\"The matter is not subject to discussion. Go!\"\n\nSansa stalked away with her head up. She was to be a queen, and queens did not cry. At least not where people could see. When she reached her bedchamber, she barred the door and took off her dress. The blood orange had left a blotchy red stain on the silk. \"I hate her!\" she screamed. She balled up the dress and flung it into the cold hearth, on top of the ashes of last night's fire. When she saw that the stain had bled through onto her underskirt, she began to sob despite herself. She ripped off the rest of her clothes wildly, threw herself into bed, and cried herself back to sleep.\n\nIt was midday when Septa Mordane knocked upon her door. \"Sansa. Your lord father will see you now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sansa sat up. \"Lady,\" she whispered. Fora moment it was as if the direwolf was therein the room, looking at her with those golden eyes, sad and knowing. She had been dreaming, she realized. Lady was with her, and they were running together, and... and... trying to remember was like trying to catch the rain with her fingers. The dream faded, and Lady was dead again.\n\n\"Sansa.\" The rap came again, sharply. \"Do you hear me?\"\n\n\"Yes, Septa,\" she called out. \"Might I have a moment to dress, please?\" Her eyes were red from crying, but she did her best to make herself beautiful.\n\nLord Eddard was bent over a huge leather-bound book when Septa Mordane marched her into the solar, his plaster-wrapped leg stiff beneath the table. \"Come here, Sansa,\" he said, not unkindly, when the septa had gone for her sister. \"Sit beside me.\" He closed the book.\n\nSepta Mordane returned with Arya squirming in her grasp. Sansa had put on a lovely pale green damask gown and a look of remorse, but her sister was still wearing the ratty leathers and roughspun she'd worn at breakfast. \"Here is the other one,\" the septa announced.\n\n\"My thanks, Septa Mordane. I would talk to my daughters alone, if you would be so kind.\" The septa bowed and left.\n\n\"Arya started it,\" Sansa said quickly, anxious to have the first word. \"She called me a liar and threw an orange at me and spoiled my dress, the ivory silk, the one Queen Cersei gave me when I was betrothed to Prince Joffrey. She hates that I'm going to marry the prince. She tries to spoil everything, Father, she can't stand for anything to be beautiful or nice or splendid.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Enough, Sansa.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Eddard's voice was sharp with impatience.\n\nArya raised her eyes. \"I'm sorry, Father. I was wrong and I beg my sweet sister's forgiveness.\"\n\nSansa was so startled that fora moment she was speechless. Finally she found her voice. \"What about my dress?\"\n\n\"Maybe... I could wash it,\" Arya said doubtfully.\n\n\"Washing won't do any good,\" Sansa said. \"Not if you scrubbed all day and all night. The silk is ruined.\"\n\n\"Then I'll... make you anew one,\" Arya said.\n\nSansa threw back her head in disdain. \"You? You couldn't sew a dress fit to clean the pigsties.\"\n\nTheir father sighed. \"I did not call you hereto talk of dresses. I'm sending you both back to Winterfell.\"\n\nFor the second time Sansa found herself too stunned for words. She felt her eyes grow moist again.\n\n\"You can't,\" Arya said.\n\n\"Please, Father,\" Sansa managed at last. \"Please don't.\"\n\nEddard Stark favored his daughters with a tired smile. \"At last we've found something you agree on.\"\n\n\"I didn't do anything wrong,\" Sansa pleaded with him. \"I don't want to go back.\" She loved King's Landing; the pagaentry of the court, the high lords and ladies in their velvets and silks and gemstones, the great city with all its people. The tournament had been the most magical time of her whole life, and there was so much she had not seen yet, harvest feasts and masked balls and mummer shows. She could not bear the thought of losing it all. \"Send Arya away, she started it, Father, I swear it. I'll be good, you'll see, just let me stay and I promise to be as fine and noble and courteous as the queen.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Father's mouth twitched strangely. \"Sansa, I'm not sending you away for fighting, though the gods know I'm sick of you two squabbling. I want you back in Winterfell for your own safety. Three of my men were cut down like dogs not a league from where we sit, and what does Robert do? He goes hunting.\"\n\nArya was chewing at her lip in that disgusting way she had. \"Can we take Syrio back with us?\"\n\n\"Who cares about your stupid dancing master?\" Sansa flared. \"Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey.\" She tried to smile bravely for him. \"I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies.\"\n\n\"Sweet one,\" her father said gently, \"listen tome. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me.\"\n\n\"He is!\" Sansa insisted. \"I don't want someone brave and gentle, I want him. We'll be ever so happy, just like in the songs, you'll see. I'll give him a son with golden hair, and one day he'll be the king of all the realm, the greatest king that ever was, as brave as the wolf and as proud as the lion.\"\n\nArya made a face. \"Not if Joffrey's his father,\" she said. \"He's a liar and a craven and anyhow he's a stag, not a lion.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sansa felt tears in her eyes. \"He is not! He's not the least bit like that old drunken king,\" she screamed at her sister, forgetting herself in her grief.\n\nFather looked at her strangely. \"Gods,\" he swore softly, \"out of the mouth of babes...\" He shouted for Septa Mordane. To the girls he said, \"I am looking fora fast trading galley to take you home. These days, the sea is safer than the kingsroad. You will sail as soon as I can find a proper ship, with Septa Mordane and a complement of guards... and yes, with Syrio Forel, if he agrees to enter my service. But say nothing of this. It's better if no one knows of our plans. We'll talk again tomorrow.\"\n\nSansa cried as Septa Mordane marched them down the steps. They were going to take it all away; the tournaments and the court and her prince, everything, they were going to send her back to the bleak grey walls of Winterfell and lock her up forever. Her life was over before it had begun.\n\n\"Stop that weeping, child,\" Septa Mordane said sternly. \"I am certain your lord father knows what is best for you.\"\n\n\"It won't be so bad, Sansa,\" Arya said. \"We're going to sail on a galley. It will bean adventure, and then we'll be with Bran and Robb again, and Old Nan and Hodor and the rest.\" She touched heron the arm.\n\n\"Hodor!\" Sansa yelled. \"You ought to marry Hodor, you're just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!\" She wrenched away from her sister's hand, stormed into her bedchamber, and barred the door behind her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Pain is a gift from the gods, Lord Eddard,\" Grand Maester Pycelle told him. \"It means the bone is knitting, the flesh healing itself. Be thankful.\"\n\n\"I will be thankful when my leg stops throbbing.\"\n\nPycelle set a stoppered flask on the table by the bed. \"The milk of the poppy, for when the pain grows too onerous.\"\n\n\"I sleep too much already.\"\n\n\"Sleep is the great healer.\"\n\n\"I had hoped that was you.\"\n\nPycelle smiled wanly. \"It is good to see you in such a fierce humor, my lord.\" He leaned close and lowered his voice. \"There was a raven this morning, a letter for the queen from her lord father. I thought you had best know.\"\n\n\"Dark wings, dark words,\" Ned said grimly. \"What of it?\"\n\n\"Lord Tywin is greatly wroth about the men you sent after Ser Gregor Clegane,\" the maester confided. \"I feared he would be. You will recall, I said as much in council.\"\n\n\"Let him be wroth,\" Ned said. Every time his leg throbbed, he remembered Jaime Lannister's smile, and Jory dead in his arms. \"Let him write all the letters to the queen he likes. Lord Beric rides beneath the king's own banner. If Lord Tywin attempts to interfere with the king's justice, he will have Robert to answer to. The only thing His Grace enjoys more than hunting is making war on lords who defy him.\"\n\nPycelle pulled back, his maester's chain jangling. \"As you say. I shall visit again on the morrow.\" The old man hurriedly gathered up his things and took his leave. Ned had little doubt that he was bound straight for the royal apartments, to whisper at the queen. I thought you had best know, indeed... as if Cersei had not instructed him to pass along her father's threats. He hoped his response rattled those perfect teeth of hers. Ned was not near as confident of Robert as he pretended, but there was no reason Cersei need know that."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When Pycelle was gone, Ned called fora cup of honeyed wine. That clouded the mind as well, yet not as badly. He needed to be able to think. A thousand times, he asked himself what Jon Arryn might have done, had he lived long enough to act on what he'd learned. Or perhaps he had acted, and died for it.\n\nIt was queer how sometimes a child's innocent eyes can see things that grown men are blind to. Someday, when Sansa was grown, he would have to tell her how she had made it all come clear for him. He's not the least bit like that old drunken king, she had declared, angry and unknowing, and the simple truth of it had twisted inside him, cold as death. This was the sword that killed Jon Arryn, Ned thought then, and it will kill Robert as well, a slower death but full ascertain. Shattered legs may heal in time, but some betrayals fester and poison the soul.\n\nLittlefinger came calling an hour after the Grand Maester had left, clad in a plum-colored doublet with a mockingbird embroidered on the breast in black thread, and a striped cloak of black and white. \"I cannot visit long, my lord,\" he announced. \"Lady Tanda expects me to lunch with her. No doubt she will roast me a fatted calf. If it's near as fatted as her daughter, I'm like to rupture and die. And how is your leg?\"\n\n\"Inflamed and painful, with an itch that is driving me mad.\"\n\nLittlefinger lifted an eyebrow. \"In future, try not to let any horses fall on it. I would urge you to heal quickly. The realm grows restive. Varys has heard ominous whispers from the west. Freeriders and sellswords have been flocking to Casterly Rock, and not for the thin pleasure of Lord Tywin's conversation.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Is there word of the king?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned demanded. \"Just how long does Robert intend to hunt?\"\n\n\"Given his preferences, I believe he'd stay in the forest until you and the queen both die of old age,\" Lord Petyr replied with a faint smile. \"Lacking that, I imagine he'll return as soon as he's killed something. They found the white hart, it seems... or rather, what remained of it. Some wolves found it first, and left His Grace scarcely more than a hoof and a horn. Robert was in a fury, until he heard talk of some monstrous boar deeper in the forest. Then nothing would do but he must have it. Prince Joffrey returned this morning, with the Royces, Ser Balon Swann, and some twenty others of the party. The rest are still with the king.\"\n\n\"The Hound?\" Ned asked, frowning. Of all the Lannister party, Sandor Clegane was the one who concerned him the most, now that Ser Jaime had fled the city to join his father.\n\n\"Oh, returned with Joffrey, and went straight to the queen.\" Littlefinger smiled. \"I would have given a hundred silver stags to have been a roach in the rushes when he learned that Lord Beric was off to behead his brother.\"\n\n\"Even a blind man could seethe Hound loathed his brother.\"\n\n\"Ah, but Gregor was his to loathe, not yours to kill. Once Dondarrion lops the summit off our Mountain, the Clegane lands and incomes will pass to Sandor, but I wouldn't hold my water waiting for his thanks, not that one. And now you must forgive me. Lady Tanda awaits with her fatted calves.\"\n\nOn the way to the door, Lord Petyr spied Grand Maester Malleon's massive tome on the table and paused to idly flip open the cover. \"The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children,\" he read. \"Now there is tedious reading if ever I saw it. A sleeping potion, my lord?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fora brief moment Ned considered telling him all of it, but there was something in Littlefinger's japes that irked him. The man was too clever by half, a mocking smile never far from his lips. \"Jon Arryn was studying this volume when he was taken sick,\" Ned said in a careful tone, to see how he might respond.\n\nAnd he responded as he always did: with a quip. \"In that case,\" he said, \"death must have come as a blessed relief.\" Lord Petyr Baelish bowed and took his leave.\n\nEddard Stark allowed himself a curse. Aside from his own retainers, there was scarcely a man in this city he trusted. Littlefinger had concealed Catelyn and helped Ned in his inquiries, yet his haste to save his own skin when Jaime and his swords had come out of the rain still rankled. Varys was worse. For all his protestations of loyalty, the eunuch knew too much and did too little. Grand Maester Pycelle seemed more Cersei's creature with every passing day, and Ser Barristan was an old man, and rigid. He would tell Ned to do his duty.\n\nTime was perilously short. The king would return from his hunt soon, and honor would require Ned to go to him with all he had learned. Vayon Poole had arranged for Sansa and Arya to sail on the Wind Witch out of Braavos, three days hence. They would be back at Winterfell before the harvest. Ned could no longer use his concern for their safety to excuse his delay.\n\nYet last night he had dreamt of Rhaegar's children. Lord Tywin had laid the bodies beneath the Iron Throne, wrapped in the crimson cloaks of his house guard. That was clever of him; the blood did not show so badly against the red cloth. The little princess had been barefoot, still dressed in her bed gown, and the boy... the boy..."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned could not let that happen again. The realm could not withstand a second mad king, another dance of blood and vengeance. He must find someway to save the children.\n\nRobert could be merciful. Ser Barristan was scarcely the only man he had pardoned. Grand Maester Pycelle, Varys the Spider, Lord Balon Greyjoy; each had been counted an enemy to Robert once, and each had been welcomed into friendship and allowed to retain honors and office fora pledge of fealty. So long as a man was brave and honest, Robert would treat him with all the honor and respect due a valiant enemy.\n\nThis was something else: poison in the dark, a knife thrust to the soul. This he could never forgive, no more than he had forgiven Rhaegar. He will kill them all, Ned realized.\n\nAnd yet, he knew he could not keep silent. He had a duty to Robert, to the realm, to the shade of Jon Arryn... and to Bran, who surely must have stumbled on some part of the truth. Why else would they have tried to slay him?\n\nLate that afternoon he summoned Tomard, the portly guardsman with the ginger-colored whiskers his children called Fat Tom. With Jory dead and Alyn gone, Fat Tom had command of his household guard. The thought filled Ned with vague disquiet. Tomard was a solid man; affable, loyal, tireless, capable in a limited way, but he was near fifty, and even in his youth he had never been energetic. Perhaps Ned should not have been so quick to sendoff half his guard, and all his best swords among them.\n\n\"I shall require your help,\" Ned said when Tomard appeared, looking faintly apprehensive, as he always did when called before his lord. \"Take me to the godswood.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Aid the author by keeping the plot going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 48"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned could not let that happen again. The realm could not withstand a second mad king, another dance of blood and vengeance. He must find someway to save the children.\n\nRobert could be merciful. Ser Barristan was scarcely the only man he had pardoned. Grand Maester Pycelle, Varys the Spider, Lord Balon Greyjoy; each had been counted an enemy to Robert once, and each had been welcomed into friendship and allowed to retain honors and office fora pledge of fealty. So long as a man was brave and honest, Robert would treat him with all the honor and respect due a valiant enemy.\n\nThis was something else: poison in the dark, a knife thrust to the soul. This he could never forgive, no more than he had forgiven Rhaegar. He will kill them all, Ned realized.\n\nAnd yet, he knew he could not keep silent. He had a duty to Robert, to the realm, to the shade of Jon Arryn... and to Bran, who surely must have stumbled on some part of the truth. Why else would they have tried to slay him?\n\nLate that afternoon he summoned Tomard, the portly guardsman with the ginger-colored whiskers his children called Fat Tom. With Jory dead and Alyn gone, Fat Tom had command of his household guard. The thought filled Ned with vague disquiet. Tomard was a solid man; affable, loyal, tireless, capable in a limited way, but he was near fifty, and even in his youth he had never been energetic. Perhaps Ned should not have been so quick to sendoff half his guard, and all his best swords among them.\n\n\"I shall require your help,\" Ned said when Tomard appeared, looking faintly apprehensive, as he always did when called before his lord. \"Take me to the godswood.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Is that wise, Lord Eddard? With your leg and all?\"\n\n\"Perhaps not. But necessary.\"\n\nTomard summoned Varly. With one arm around each man's shoulders, Ned managed to descend the steep tower steps and hobble across the bailey. \"I want the guard doubled,\" he told Fat Tom. \"No one enters or leaves the Tower of the Hand without my leave.\"\n\nTom blinked. \"M'lord, with Alyn and the others away, we are hard-pressed already-\"\n\n\"It will only be a short while. Lengthen the watches.\"\n\n\"As you say, m'lord,\" Tom answered. \"Might I ask why-\"\n\n\"Best not,\" Ned answered crisply.\n\nThe godswood was empty, as it always was herein this citadel of the southron gods. Ned's leg was screaming as they lowered him to the grass beside the heart tree. \"Thank you.\" He drew a paper from his sleeve, sealed with the sigil of his House. \"Kindly deliver this at once.\"\n\nTomard looked at the name Ned had written on the paper and licked his lips anxiously. \"My lord...\"\n\n\"Do as Ibid you, Tom,\" Ned said.\n\nHow long he waited in the quiet of the godswood, he could not say. It was peaceful here. The thick walls shutout the clamor of the castle, and he could hear birds singing, the murmur of crickets, leaves rustling in a gentle wind. The heart tree was an oak, brown and faceless, yet Ned Stark still felt the presence of his gods. His leg did not seem to hurt so much.\n\nShe came to him at sunset, as the clouds reddened above the walls and towers. She came alone, as he had bid her. For once she was dressed simply, in leather boots and hunting greens. When she drew back the hood of her brown cloak, he saw the bruise where the king had struck her. The angry plum color had faded to yellow, and the swelling was down, but there was no mistaking it for anything but what it was."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why here?\" Cersei Lannister asked as she stood over him.\n\n\"So the gods can see.\"\n\nShe sat beside him on the grass. Her every move was graceful. Her curling blond hair moved in the wind, and her eyes were green as the leaves of summer. It had been along time since Ned Stark had seen her beauty, but he saw it now. \"I know the truth Jon Arryn died for,\" he told her.\n\n\"Do you?\" The queen watched his face, wary as a cat. \"Is that why you called me here, Lord Stark? To pose me riddles? Or is it your intent to seize me, as your wife seized my brother?\"\n\n\"If you truly believed that, you would never have come.\" Ned touched her cheek gently. \"Has he done this before?\"\n\n\"Once or twice.\" She shied away from his hand. \"Never on the face before. Jaime would have killed him, even if it meant his own life.\" Cersei looked at him defiantly. \"My brother is worth a hundred of your friend.\"\n\n\"Your brother?\" Ned said. \"Or your lover?\"\n\n\"Both.\" She did not flinch from the truth. \"Since we were children together. And why not? The Targaryens wed brother to sister for three hundred years, to keep the bloodlines pure. And Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We are one person in two bodies. We shared a womb together. He came into this world holding my foot, our old maester said. When he is in me, I feel... whole.\" The ghost of a smile flitted over her lips.\n\n\"My son Bran...\"\n\nTo her credit, Cersei did not look away. \"He saw us. You love your children, do you not?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robert had asked him the very same question, the morning of the melee. He gave her the same answer. \"With all my heart.\"\n\n\"No less do I love mine.\"\n\nNed thought, If it came to that, the life of some child I did not know, against Robb and Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon, what would I do? Even more so, what would Catelyn do, if it were Jon's life, against the children of her body? He did not know. He prayed he never would.\n\n\"All three are Jaime's,\" he said. It was not a question.\n\n\"Thank the gods.\"\n\nThe seed is strong, Jon Arryn had cried on his deathbed, and so it was. All those bastards, all with hair as black as night. Grand Maester Malleon recorded the last mating between stag and lion, some ninety years ago, when Tya Lannister wed Gowen Baratheon, third son of the reigning lord. Their only issue, an unnamed boy described in Malleon's tome as a large and lusty lad born with a full head of black hair, died in infancy. Thirty years before that a male Lannister had taken a Baratheon maid to wife. She had given him three daughters and a son, each black-haired. No matter how far back Ned searched in the brittle yellowed pages, always he found the gold yielding before the coal.\n\n\"A dozen years,\" Ned said. \"How is it that you have had no children by the king?\"\n\nShe lifted her head, defiant. \"Your Robert got me with child once,\" she said, her voice thick with contempt. \"My brother found a woman to cleanse me. He never knew. If truth be told, I can scarcely bear for him to touch me, and I have not let him inside me for years. I know other ways to pleasure him, when he leaves his whores long enough to stagger up to my bedchamber. Whatever we do, the king is usually so drunk that he's forgotten it all by the next morning.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "How could they have all been so blind? The truth was therein front of them all the time, written on the children's faces. Ned felt sick. \"I remember Robert as he was the day he took the throne, every inch a king,\" he said quietly. \"A thousand other women might have loved him with all their hearts. What did he do to make you hate him so?\"\n\nHer eyes burned, green fire in the dusk, like the lioness that washer sigil. \"The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared abed, he called me by your sister's name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna.\"\n\nNed Stark thought of pale blue roses, and fora moment he wanted to weep. \"I do not know which of you I pity most.\"\n\nThe queen seemed amused by that. \"Save your pity for yourself, Lord Stark. I want none of it.\"\n\n\"You know what I must do.\"\n\n\"Must!\" She put her hand on his good leg, just above the knee. \"A true man does what he will, not what he must.\" Her fingers brushed lightly against his thigh, the gentlest of promises. \"The realm needs a strong Hand. Joff will not come of age for years. No one wants war again, least of all me.\" Her hand touched his face, his hair. \"If friends can turn to enemies, enemies can become friends. Your wife is a thousand leagues away, and my brother has fled. Be kind tome, Ned. I swear to you, you shall never regret it.\"\n\n\"Did you make the same offer to Jon Arryn?\"\n\nShe slapped him.\n\n\"I shall wear that as a badge of honor,\" Ned said dryly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Honor,\" she spat. \"How dare you play the noble lord with me! What do you take me for? You've a bastard of your own, I've seen him. Who was the mother, I wonder? Some Dornish peasant you raped while her holdfast burned? A whore? Or was it the grieving sister, the Lady Ashara? She threw herself into the sea, I'm told. Why was that? For the brother you slew, or the child you stole? Tell me, my honorable Lord Eddard, how are you any different from Robert, or me, or Jaime?\"\n\n\"Fora start,\" said Ned, \"I do not kill children. You would do well to listen, my lady. I shall say this only once. When the king returns from his hunt, I intend to lay the truth before him. You must begone by then. You and your children, all three, and not to Casterly Rock. If I were you, I should take ship for the Free Cities, or even farther, to the Summer Isles or the Port of Ibben. As far as the winds blow.\"\n\n\"Exile,\" she said. \"A bitter cup to drink from.\"\n\n\"A sweeter cup than your father served Rhaegar's children,\" Ned said, \"and kinder than you deserve. Your father and your brothers would do well to go with you. Lord Tywin's gold will buy you comfort and hire swords to keep you safe. You shall need them. I promise you, no matter where you flee, Robert's wrath will follow you, to the back of beyond if need be.\"\n\nThe queen stood. \"And what of my wrath, Lord Stark?\" she asked softly. Her eyes searched his face. \"You should have taken the realm for yourself. It was therefor the taking. Jaime told me how you found him on the Iron Throne the day King's Landing fell, and made him yield it up. That was your moment. All you needed to do was climb those steps, and sit. Such a sad mistake.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have made more mistakes than you can possibly imagine,\" Ned said, \"but that was not one of them.\"\n\n\"Oh, but it was, my lord,\" Cersei insisted. \"When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.\"\n\nShe turned up her hood to hide her swollen face and left him therein the dark beneath the oak, amidst the quiet of the godswood, under a blue-black sky. The stars were coming out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The heart was steaming in the cool evening air when Khal Drogo set it before her, raw and bloody. His arms were red to the elbow. Behind him, his bloodriders knelt on the sand beside the corpse of the wild stallion, stone knives in their hands. The stallion's blood looked black in the flickering orange glare of the torches that ringed the high chalk walls of the pit.\n\nDany touched the soft swell of her belly. Sweat beaded her skin and trickled down her brow. She could feel the old women watching her, the ancient crones of Vaes Dothrak, with eyes that shone dark as polished flint in their wrinkled faces. She must not flinch or look afraid. I am the blood of the dragon, she told herself as she took the stallion's heart in both hands, lifted it to her mouth, and plunged her teeth into the tough, stringy flesh.\n\nWarm blood filled her mouth and ran down over her chin. The taste threatened to gag her, but she made herself chew and swallow. The heart of a stallion would make her son strong and swift and fearless, or so the Dothraki believed, but only if the mother could eat it all. If she choked on the blood or retched up the flesh, the omens were less favorable; the child might be stillborn, or come forth weak, deformed, or female.\n\nHer handmaids had helped her ready herself for the ceremony. Despite the tender mother's stomach that had afflicted her these past two moons, Dany had dined on bowls of half-clotted blood to accustom herself to the taste, and Irri made her chew strips of dried horseflesh until her jaws were aching. She had starved herself fora day and a night before the ceremony in the hopes that hunger would help her keep down the raw meat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The wild stallion's heart was all muscle, and Dany had to worry it with her teeth and chew each mouthful along time."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No steel was permitted within the sacred confines of Vaes Dothrak, beneath the shadow of the Mother of Mountains; she had to rip the heart apart with teeth and nails. Her stomach roiled and heaved, yet she kept on, her face smeared with the heartsblood that sometimes seemed to explode against her lips.\n\nKhal Drogo stood over her as she ate, his face as hard as a bronze shield. His long black braid was shiny with oil. He wore gold rings in his mustache, gold bells in his braid, and a heavy belt of solid gold medallions around his waist, but his chest was bare. She looked at him whenever she felt her strength failing; looked at him, and chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed. Toward the end, Dany thought she glimpsed a fierce pride in his dark, almond-shaped eyes, but she could not be sure. The khal's face did not often betray the thoughts within.\n\nAnd finally it was done. Her cheeks and fingers were sticky as she forced down the last of it. Only then did she turn her eyes back to the old women, the crones of the dosh khaleen.\n\n\"Khalakka dothrae mr'anha!\" she proclaimed in her best Dothraki. A prince rides inside me! She had practiced the phrase for days with her handmaid Jhiqui.\n\nThe oldest of the crones, a bent and shriveled stick of a woman with a single black eye, raised her arms on high. \"Khalakka dothrae!\" she shrieked. The prince is riding!\n\n\"He is riding!\" the other women answered. \"Rakh! Rakh! Rakh haj!\" they proclaimed. A boy, a boy, a strong boy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bells rang, a sudden clangor of bronze birds. A deep-throated warhorn sounded its long low note. The old women began to chant. Underneath their painted leather vests, their withered dugs swayed back and forth, shiny with oil and sweat. The eunuchs who served them threw bundles of dried grasses into a great bronze brazier, and clouds of fragrant smoke rose up toward the moon and the stars. The Dothraki believed the stars were horses made of fire, a great herd that galloped across the sky by night.\n\nAs the smoke ascended, the chanting died away and the ancient crone closed her single eye, the better to peer into the future. The silence that fell was complete. Dany could hear the distant call of night birds, the hiss and crackle of the torches, the gentle lapping of water from the lake. The Dothraki stared at her with eyes of night, waiting.\n\nKhal Drogo laid his hand on Dany's arm. She could feel the tension in his fingers. Even a khal as mighty as Drogo could know fear when the dosh khaleen peered into smoke of the future. At her back, her handmaids fluttered anxiously.\n\nFinally the crone opened her eye and lifted her arms. \"I have seen his face, and heard the thunder of his hooves,\" she proclaimed in a thin, wavery voice.\n\n\"The thunder of his hooves!\" the others chorused.\n\n\"As swift as the wind he rides, and behind him his khalasar covers the earth, men without number, with arakhs shining in their hands like blades of razor grass. Fierce as a storm this prince will be. His enemies will tremble before him, and their wives will weep tears of blood and rend their flesh in grief. The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milkmen in the stone tents will fear his name.\" The old woman trembled and looked at Dany almost as if she were afraid. \"The prince is riding, and he shall be the stallion who mounts the world.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The stallion who mounts the world!\" the onlookers cried in echo, until the night rang to the sound of their voices.\n\nThe one-eyed crone peered at Dany. \"What shall he be called, the stallion who mounts the world?\"\n\nShe stood to answer. \"He shall be called Rhaego,\" she said, using the words that Jhiqui had taught her. Her hands touched the swell beneath her breasts protectively as a roar went up from the Dothraki. \"Rhaego,\" they screamed. \"Rhaego, Rhaego, Rhaego!\"\n\nThe name was still ringing in her ears as Khal Drogo led her from the pit. His bloodriders fell in behind them. A procession followed them out onto the godsway, the broad grassy road that ran through the heart of Vaes Dothrak, from the horse gate to the Mother of Mountains. The crones of the dosh khaleen came first, with their eunuchs and slaves. Some supported themselves with tall carved staffs as they struggled along on ancient, shaking legs, while others walked as proud as any horselord. Each of the old women had been a khaleesi once. When their lord husbands died and anew khal took his place at the front of his riders, with anew khaleesi mounted beside him, they were sent here, to reign over the vast Dothraki nation. Even the mightiest of khals bowed to the wisdom and authority of the dosh khaleen. Still, it gave Dany the shivers to think that one day she might be sent to join them, whether she willed it or no.\n\nBehind the wise women came the others; Khal Ogo and his son, the khalakka Fogo, Khal Jommo and his wives, the chief men of Drogo's khalasar, Dany's handmaids, the khal's servants and slaves, and more. Bells rang and drums beat a stately cadence as they marched along the godsway. Stolen heroes and the gods of dead peoples brooded in the darkness beyond the road. Alongside the procession, slaves ran lightly through the grass with torches in their hands, and the flickering flames made the great monuments seem almost alive."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What is meaning, name Rhaego?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Khal Drogo asked as they walked, using the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms. She had been teaching him a few words when she could. Drogo was quick to learn when he put his mind to it, though his accent was so thick and barbarous that neither Ser Jorah nor Viserys could understand a word he said.\n\n\"My brother Rhaegar was a fierce warrior, my sun-and-stars,\" she told him. \"He died before I was born. Ser Jorah says that he was the last of the dragons.\"\n\nKhal Drogo looked down at her. His face was a copper mask, yet under the long black mustache, drooping beneath the weight of its gold rings, she thought she glimpsed the shadow of a smile. \"Is good name, Dan Ares wife, moon of my life,\" he said.\n\nThey rode to the lake the Dothraki called the Womb of the World, surrounded by a fringe of reeds, its water still and calm. A thousand thousand years ago, Jhiqui told her, the first man had emerged from its depths, riding upon the back of the first horse.\n\nThe procession waited on the grassy shore as Dany stripped and let her soiled clothing fall to the ground. Naked, she stepped gingerly into the water. Irri said the lake had no bottom, but Dany felt soft mud squishing between her toes as she pushed through the tall reeds. The moon floated on the still black waters, shattering and re-forming as her ripples washed over it. Goose pimples rose on her pale skin as the coldness crept up her thighs and kissed her lower lips. The stallion's blood had dried on her hands and around her mouth. Dany cupped her fingers and lifted the sacred waters over her head, cleansing herself and the child inside her while the khal and the others looked on. She heard the old women of the dosh khaleen muttering to each other as they watched, and wondered what they were saying."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When she emerged from the lake, shivering and dripping, her handmaid Doreah hurried to her with a robe of painted sandsilk, but Khal Drogo waved her away."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was looking on her swollen breasts and the curve of her belly with approval, and Dany could seethe shape of his manhood pressing through his horsehide trousers, below the heavy gold medallions of his belt. She went to him and helped him unlace. Then her huge khal took her by the hips and lifted her into the air, as he might lift a child. The bells in his hair rang softly.\n\nDany wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face against his neck as he thrust himself inside her. Three quick strokes and it was done. \"The stallion who mounts the world,\" Drogo whispered hoarsely. His hands still smelled of horse blood. He bit at her throat, hard, in the moment of his pleasure, and when he lifted her off, his seed filled her and trickled down the inside of her thighs. Only then was Doreah permitted to drape her in the scented sandsilk, and Irri to fit soft slippers to her feet.\n\nKhal Drogo laced himself up and spoke a command, and horses were brought to the lakeshore. Cohollo had the honor of helping the khaleesi onto her silver. Drogo spurred his stallion, and set off down the godsway beneath the moon and stars. On her silver, Dany easily kept pace.\n\nThe silk tenting that roofed Khal Drogo's hall had been rolled up tonight, and the moon followed them inside. Flames leapt ten feet in the air from three huge stone-lined firepits. The air was thick with the smells of roasting meat and curdled, fermented mare's milk. The hall was crowded and noisy when they entered, the cushions packed with those whose rank and name were not sufficient to allow them at the ceremony. As Dany rode beneath the arched entry and up the center aisle, every eye was on her. The Dothraki screamed out comments on her belly and her breasts, hailing the life within her. She could not understand all they shouted, but one phrase came clear. \"The stallion that mounts the world,\" she heard, bellowed in a thousand voices."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The sounds of drums and horns swirled up into the night. Half-clothed women spun and danced on the low tables, amid joints of meat and platters piled high with plums and dates and pomegranates. Many of the men were drunk on clotted mare's milk, yet Dany knew no arakhs would clash tonight, not herein the sacred city, where blades and bloodshed were forbidden.\n\nKhal Drogo dismounted and took his place on the high bench. Khal Jommo and Khal Ogo, who had been in Vaes Dothrak with their khalasars when they arrived, were given seats of high honor to Drogo's right and left. The bloodriders of the three khals sat below them, and farther down Khal Jommo's four wives.\n\nDany climbed off her silver and gave the reins to one of the slaves. As Doreah and Irri arranged her cushions, she searched for her brother. Even across the length of the crowded hall, Viserys should have been conspicuous with his pale skin, silvery hair, and beggar's rags, but she did not see him anywhere.\n\nHer glance roamed the crowded tables near the walls, where men whose braids were even shorter than their manhoods sat on frayed rugs and flat cushions around the low tables, but all the faces she saw had black eyes and copper skin. She spied Ser Jorah Mormont near the center of the hall, close to the middle firepit. It was a place of respect, if not high honor; the Dothraki esteemed the knight's prowess with a sword. Dany sent Jhiqui to bring him to her table. Mormont came at once, and went to one knee before her. \"Khaleesi,\" he said, \"I am yours to command.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She patted the stuffed horsehide cushion beside her. \"Sit and talk with me.\"\n\n\"You honor me.\" The knight seated himself cross-legged on the cushion. A slave knelt before him, offering a wooden platter full of ripe figs. Ser Jorah took one and bit it in half.\n\n\"Where is my brother?\" Dany asked. \"He ought to have come by now, for the feast.\"\n\n\"I saw His Grace this morning,\" he told her. \"He told me he was going to the Western Market, in search of wine.\"\n\n\"Wine?\" Dany said doubtfully. Viserys could not abide the taste of the fermented mare's milk the Dothraki drank, she knew that, and he was oft at the bazaars these days, drinking with the traders who came in the great caravans from east and west. He seemed to find their company more congenial than hers.\n\n\"Wine,\" Ser Jorah confirmed, \"and he has some thought to recruit men for his army from the sellswords who guard the caravans.\" A serving girl laid a blood pie in front of him, and he attacked it with both hands.\n\n\"Is that wise?\" she asked. \"He has no gold to pay soldiers. What if he's betrayed?\" Caravan guards were seldom troubled much by thoughts of honor, and the Usurper in King's Landing would pay well for her brother's head. \"You ought to have gone with him, to keep him safe. You are his sworn sword.\"\n\n\"We are in Vaes Dothrak,\" he reminded her. \"No one may carry a blade here or shed a man's blood.\"\n\n\"Yet men die,\" she said. \"Jhogo told me. Some of the traders have eunuchs with them, huge men who strangle thieves with wisps of silk. That way no blood is shed and the gods are not angered.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Then let us hope your brother will be wise enough not to steal anything.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Jorah wiped the grease off his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned close over the table. \"He had planned to take your dragon's eggs, until I warned him that I'd cutoff his hand if he so much as touched them.\"\n\nFora moment Dany was so shocked she had no words. \"My eggs... but they're mine, Magister Illyrio gave them tome, a bride gift, why would Viserys want... they're only stones...\"\n\n\"The same could be said of rubies and diamonds and fire opals, Princess... and dragon's eggs are rarer by far. Those traders he's been drinking with would sell their own manhoods for even one of those stones, and with all three Viserys could buy as many sellswords as he might need.\"\n\nDany had not known, had not even suspected. \"Then... he should have them. He does not need to steal them. He had only to ask. He is my brother... and my true king.\"\n\n\"He is your brother,\" Ser Jorah acknowledged.\n\n\"You do not understand, ser,\" she said. \"My mother died giving me birth, and my father and my brother Rhaegar even before that. I would never have known so much as their names if Viserys had not been thereto tell me. He was the only one left. The only one. He is all I have.\"\n\n\"Once,\" said Ser Jorah. \"No longer, Khaleesi. You belong to the Dothraki now. In your womb rides the stallion who mounts the world.\" He held out his cup, and a slave filled it with fermented mare's milk, sour-smelling and thick with clots.\n\nDany waved her away. Even the smell of it made her feel ill, and she would take no chances of bringing up the horse heart she had forced herself to eat. \"What does it mean?\" she asked. \"What is this stallion? Everyone was shouting it at me, but I don't understand.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The stallion is the khal of khals promised in ancient prophecy, child."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He will unite the Dothraki into a single khalasar and ride to the ends of the earth, or so it was promised. All the people of the world will be his herd.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Dany said in a small voice. Her hand smoothed her robe down over the swell of her stomach. \"I named him Rhaego.\"\n\n\"A name to make the Usurper's blood run cold.\"\n\nSuddenly Doreah was tugging at her elbow. \"My lady,\" the handmaid whispered urgently, \"your brother...\"\n\nDany looked down the length of the long, roofless hall and there he was, striding toward her. From the lurch in his step, she could tell at once that Viserys had found his wine... and something that passed for courage.\n\nHe was wearing his scarlet silks, soiled and travel-stained. His cloak and gloves were black velvet, faded from the sun. His boots were dry and cracked, his silver-blond hair matted and tangled. A longsword swung from his belt in a leather scabbard. The Dothraki eyed the sword as he passed; Dany heard curses and threats and angry muttering rising all around her, like a tide. The music died away in a nervous stammering of drums.\n\nA sense of dread closed around her heart. \"Go to him,\" she commanded Ser Jorah. \"Stop him. Bring him here. Tell him he can have the dragon's eggs if that is what he wants.\" The knight rose swiftly to his feet.\n\n\"Where is my sister?\" Viserys shouted, his voice thick with wine. \"I've come for her feast. How dare you presume to eat without me? No one eats before the king. Where is she? The whore can't hide from the dragon.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He stopped beside the largest of the three firepits, peering around at the faces of the Dothraki. There were five thousand men in the hall, but only a handful who knew the Common Tongue. Yet even if his words were incomprehensible, you had only to look at him to know that he was drunk.\n\nSer Jorah went to him swiftly, whispered something in his ear, and took him by the arm, but Viserys wrenched free. \"Keep your hands off me! No one touches the dragon without leave.\"\n\nDany glanced anxiously up at the high bench. Khal Drogo was saying something to the other khals beside him. Khal Jommo grinned, and Khal Ogo began to guffaw loudly.\n\nThe sound of laughter made Viserys lift his eyes. \"Khal Drogo,\" he said thickly, his voice almost polite. \"I'm here for the feast.\" He staggered away from Ser Jorah, making to join the three khals on the high bench.\n\nKhal Drogo rose, spat out a dozen words in Dothraki, faster than Dany could understand, and pointed. \"Khal Drogo says your place is not on the high bench,\" Ser Jorah translated for her brother. \"Khal Drogo says your place is there.\"\n\nViserys glanced where the khal was pointing. At the back of the long hall, in a corner by the wall, deep in shadow so better men would not need to look on them, sat the lowest of the low; raw unblooded boys, old men with clouded eyes and stiff joints, the dim-witted and the maimed. Far from the meat, and farther from honor. \"That is no place fora king,\" her brother declared.\n\n\"Is place,\" Khal Drogo answered, in the Common Tongue that Dany had taught him, \"for Sorefoot King.\" He clapped his hands together. \"A cart! Bring cart for Khal Rhaggat!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Five thousand Dothraki began to laugh and shout. Ser Jorah was standing beside Viserys, screaming in his ear, but the roar in the hall was so thunderous that Dany could not hear what he was saying. Her brother shouted back and the two men grappled, until Mormont knocked Viserys bodily to the floor.\n\nHer brother drew his sword.\n\nThe bared steel shone a fearful red in the glare from the firepits. \"Keep away from me!\" Viserys hissed. Ser Jorah backed off a step, and her brother climbed unsteadily to his feet. He waved the sword over his head, the borrowed blade that Magister Illyrio had given him to make him seem more kingly. Dothraki were shrieking at him from all sides, screaming vile curses.\n\nDany gave a wordless cry of terror. She knew what a drawn sword meant here, even if her brother did not.\n\nHer voice made Viserys turn his head, and he saw her for the first time. \"There she is,\" he said, smiling. He stalked toward her, slashing at the air as if to cut a path through a wall of enemies, though no one tried to bar his way.\n\n\"The blade... you must not,\" she begged him. \"Please, Viserys. It is forbidden. Put down the sword and come share my cushions. There's drink, food... is it the dragon's eggs you want? You can have them, only throwaway the sword.\"\n\n\"Do as she tells you, fool,\" Ser Jorah shouted, \"before you get us all killed.\"\n\nViserys laughed. \"They can't kill us. They can't shed blood herein the sacred city... but I can.\" He laid the point of his sword between Daenerys's breasts and slid it downward, over the curve of her belly. \"I want what I came for,\" he told her. \"I want the crown he promised me. He bought you, but he never paid for you. Tell him I want what I bargained for, or I'm taking you back. You and the eggs both. He can keep his bloody foal. I'll cut the bastard out and leave it for him.\" The sword point pushed through her silks and pricked at her navel. Viserys was weeping, she saw; weeping and laughing, both at the same time, this man who had once been her brother."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Distantly, as from faraway, Dany heard her handmaid Jhiqui sobbing in fear, pleading that she dared not translate, that the khal would bind her and drag her behind his horse all the way up the Mother of Mountains."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She put her arm around the girl. \"Don't be afraid,\" she said. \"I shall tell him.\"\n\nShe did not know if she had enough words, yet when she was done Khal Drogo spoke a few brusque sentences in Dothraki, and she knew he understood. The sun of her life stepped down from the high bench. \"What did he say?\" the man who had been her brother asked her, flinching.\n\nIt had grown so silent in the hall that she could hear the bells in Khal Drogo's hair, chiming softly with each step he took. His bloodriders followed him, like three copper shadows. Daenerys had gone cold allover. \"He says you shall have a splendid golden crown that men shall tremble to behold.\"\n\nViserys smiled and lowered his sword. That was the saddest thing, the thing that tore at her afterward... the way he smiled. \"That was all I wanted,\" he said. \"What was promised.\"\n\nWhen the sun of her life reached her, Dany slid an arm around his waist. The khal said a word, and his bloodriders leapt forward. Qotho seized the man who had been her brother by the arms. Haggo shattered his wrist with a single, sharp twist of his huge hands. Cohollo pulled the sword from his limp fingers. Even now Viserys did not understand. \"No,\" he shouted, \"you cannot touch me, I am the dragon, the dragon, and I will be crowned!\"\n\nKhal Drogo unfastened his belt. The medallions were pure gold, massive and ornate, each one as large as a man's hand. He shouted a command. Cook slaves pulled a heavy iron stew pot from the firepit, dumped the stew onto the ground, and returned the pot to the flames. Drogo tossed in the belt and watched without expression as the medallions turned red and began to lose their shape. She could see fires dancing in the onyx of his eyes. A slave handed him a pair of thick horsehair mittens, and he pulled them on, never so much as looking at the man."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Viserys began to scream the high, wordless scream of the coward facing death. He kicked and twisted, whimpered like a dog and wept like a child, but the Dothraki held him tight between them. Ser Jorah had made his way to Dany's side. He put a hand on her shoulder. \"Turn away, my princess, I beg you.\"\n\n\"No.\" She folded her arms across the swell of her belly, protectively.\n\nAt the last, Viserys looked at her. \"Sister, please... Dany, tell them... make them... sweet sister...\"\n\nWhen the gold was half-melted and starting to run, Drogo reached into the flames, snatched out the pot. \"Crown!\" he roared. \"Here. A crown for Cart King!\" And upended the pot over the head of the man who had been her brother.\n\nThe sound Viserys Targaryen made when that hideous iron helmet covered his face was like nothing human. His feet hammered a frantic beat against the dirt floor, slowed, stopped. Thick globs of molten gold dripped down onto his chest, setting the scarlet silk to smoldering... yet no drop of blood was spilled.\n\nHe was no dragon, Dany thought, curiously calm. Fire cannot kill a dragon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was walking through the crypts beneath Winterfell, as he had walked a thousand times before. The Kings of Winter watched him pass with eyes of ice, and the direwolves at their feet turned their great stone heads and snarled. Last of all, he came to the tomb where his father slept, with Brandon and Lyanna beside him. \"Promise me, Ned,\" Lyanna's statue whispered. She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood.\n\nEddard Stark jerked upright, his heart racing, the blankets tangled around him. The room was black as pitch, and someone was hammering on the door. \"Lord Eddard,\" a voice called loudly.\n\n\"A moment.\" Groggy and naked, he stumbled his way across the darkened chamber. When he opened the door, he found Tomard with an upraised fist, and Cayn with a taper in hand. Between them stood the king's own steward.\n\nThe man's face might have been carved of stone, so little did it show. \"My lord Hand,\" he intoned. \"His Grace the King commands your presence. At once.\"\n\nSo Robert had returned from his hunt. It was long past time. \"I shall need a few moments to dress.\" Ned left the man waiting without. Cayn helped him with his clothes; white linen tunic and grey cloak, trousers cut open down his plaster-sheathed leg, his badge of office, and last of all a belt of heavy silver links. He sheathed the Valyrian dagger at his waist.\n\nThe Red Keep was dark and still as Cayn and Tomard escorted him across the inner bailey. The moon hung low over the walls, ripening toward full. On the ramparts, a guardsman in a gold cloak walked his rounds."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The royal apartments were in Maegor's Holdfast, a massive square fortress that nestled in the heart of the Red Keep behind walls twelve feet thick and a dry moat lined with iron spikes, a castle-within-a-castle. Ser Boros Blount guarded the far end of the bridge, white steel armor ghostly in the moonlight. Within, Ned passed two other knights of the Kingsguard; Ser Preston Greenfield stood at the bottom of the steps, and Ser Barristan Selmy waited at the door of the king's bedchamber. Three men in white cloaks, he thought, remembering, and a strange chill went through him. Ser Barristan's face was as pale as his armor. Ned had only to look at him to know that something was dreadfully wrong. The royal steward opened the door. \"Lord Eddard Stark, the Hand of the King,\" he announced.\n\n\"Bring him here,\" Robert's voice called, strangely thick.\n\nFires blazed in the twin hearths at either end of the bedchamber, filling the room with a sullen red glare. The heat within was suffocating. Robert lay across the canopied bed. At the bedside hovered Grand Maester Pycelle, while Lord Renly paced restlessly before the shuttered windows. Servants moved back and forth, feeding logs to the fire and boiling wine. Cersei Lannister sat on the edge of the bed beside her husband. Her hair was tousled, as if from sleep, but there was nothing sleepy in her eyes. They followed Ned as Tomard and Cayn helped him cross the room. He seemed to move very slowly, as if he were still dreaming.\n\nThe king still wore his boots. Ned could see dried mud and blades of grass clinging to the leather where Robert's feet stuck out beneath the blanket that covered him. A green doublet lay on the floor, slashed open and discarded, the cloth crusted with red-brown stains. The room smelled of smoke and blood and death."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ned,\" the king whispered when he saw him. His face was pale as milk. \"Come... closer.\"\n\nHis men brought him close. Ned steadied himself with a hand on the bedpost. He had only to look down at Robert to know how bad it was. \"What...?\" he began, his throat clenched.\n\n\"A boar.\" Lord Renly was still in his hunting greens, his cloak spattered with blood.\n\n\"A devil,\" the king husked. \"My own fault. Too much wine, damn me to hell. Missed my thrust.\"\n\n\"And where were the rest of you?\" Ned demanded of Lord Renly. \"Where was Ser Barristan and the Kingsguard?\"\n\nRenly's mouth twitched. \"My brother commanded us to stand aside and let him take the boar alone.\"\n\nEddard Stark lifted the blanket.\n\nThey had done what they could to close him up, but it was nowhere near enough. The boar must have been a fearsome thing. It had ripped the king from groin to nipple with its tusks. The wine-soaked bandages that Grand Maester Pycelle had applied were already black with blood, and the smell off the wound was hideous. Ned's stomach turned. He let the blanket fall.\n\n\"Stinks,\" Robert said. \"The stink of death, don't think I can't smell it. Bastard did me good, eh? But I... I paid him back in kind, Ned.\" The king's smile was as terrible as his wound, his teeth red. \"Drove a knife right through his eye. Ask them if I didn't. Ask them.\"\n\n\"Truly,\" Lord Renly murmured. \"We brought the carcass back with us, at my brother's command.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"For the feast,\" Robert whispered. \"Now leave us. The lot of you. I need to speak with Ned.\"\n\n\"Robert, my sweet lord...\" Cersei began.\n\n\"I said leave,\" Robert insisted with a hint of his old fierceness. \"What part of that don't you understand, woman?\"\n\nCersei gathered up her skirts and her dignity and led the way to the door. Lord Renly and the others followed. Grand Maester Pycelle lingered, his hands shaking as he offered the king a cup of thick white liquid. \"The milk of the poppy, Your Grace,\" he said. \"Drink. For your pain.\"\n\nRobert knocked the cup away with the back of his hand. \"Away with you. I'll sleep soon enough, old fool. Get out.\"\n\nGrand Maester Pycelle gave Ned a stricken look as he shuffled from the room.\n\n\"Damn you, Robert,\" Ned said when they were alone. His leg was throbbing so badly he was almost blind with pain. Or perhaps it was grief that fogged his eyes. He lowered himself to the bed, beside his friend. \"Why do you always have to be so headstrong?\"\n\n\"Ah, fuck you, Ned,\" the king said hoarsely. \"I killed the bastard, didn't I?\" A lock of matted black hair fell across his eyes as he glared up at Ned. \"Ought to do the same for you. Can't leave a man to hunt in peace. Ser Robar found me. Gregor's head. Ugly thought. Never told the Hound. Let Cersei surprise him.\" His laugh turned into a grunt as a spasm of pain hit him. \"Gods have mercy,\" he muttered, swallowing his agony. \"The girl. Daenerys. Only a child, you were right... that's why, the girl... the gods sent the boar... sent to punish me...\" The king coughed, bringing up blood. \"Wrong, it was wrong, I... only a girl... Varys, Littlefinger, even my brother... worthless... no one to tell me no but you, Ned... only you...\" He lifted his hand, the gesture pained and feeble. \"Paper and ink. There, on the table. Write what I tell you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ned smoothed the paper out across his knee and took up the quill."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"At your command, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"This is the will and word of Robert of House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and all the rest-put in the damn titles, you know how it goes. I do hereby command Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King, to serve as Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm upon my... upon my death... to rule in my... in my stead, until my son Joffrey does come of age...\"\n\n\"Robert...\" Joffrey is not your son, he wanted to say, but the words would not come. The agony was written too plainly across Robert's face; he could not hurt him more. So Ned bent his head and wrote, but where the king had said'my son Joffrey,\" he scrawled'my heir\" instead. The deceit made him feel soiled. The lies we tell for love, he thought. May the gods forgive me. \"What else would you have me say?\"\n\n\"Say... whatever you need to. Protect and defend, gods old and new, you have the words. Write. I'll sign it. You give it to the council when I'm dead.\"\n\n\"Robert,\" Ned said in a voice thick with grief, \"you must not do this. Don't die on me. The realm needs you.\"\n\nRobert took his hand, fingers squeezing hard. \"You are... such a bad liar, Ned Stark,\" he said through his pain. \"The realm... the realm knows... what a wretched king I've been. Bad as Aerys, the gods spare me.\"\n\n\"No,\" Ned told his dying friend, \"not so bad as Aerys, Your Grace. Not near so bad as Aerys.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robert managed a weak red smile. \"At the least, they will say... this last thing... this I did right. You won't fail me. You'll rule now. You'll hate it, worse than I did... but you'll do well. Are you done with the scribbling?\"\n\n\"Yes, Your Grace.\" Ned offered Robert the paper. The king scrawled his signature blindly, leaving a smear of blood across the letter. \"The seal should be witnessed.\"\n\n\"Serve the boar at my funeral feast,\" Robert rasped. \"Apple in its mouth, skin seared crisp. Eat the bastard. Don't care if you choke on him. Promise me, Ned.\"\n\n\"I promise.\" Promise me, Ned, Lyanna's voice echoed.\n\n\"The girl,\" the king said. \"Daenerys. Let her live. If you can, if it... not too late... talk to them... Varys, Littlefinger... don't let them kill her. And help my son, Ned. Make him be... better than me.\" He winced. \"Gods have mercy.\"\n\n\"They will, my friend,\" Ned said. \"They will.\"\n\nThe king closed his eyes and seemed to relax. \"Killed by a pig,\" he muttered. \"Ought to laugh, but it hurts too much.\"\n\nNed was not laughing. \"Shall I call them back?\"\n\nRobert gave a weak nod. \"As you will. Gods, why is it so cold inhere?\"\n\nThe servants rushed back in and hurried to feed the fires. The queen had gone; that was some small relief, at least. If she had any sense, Cersei would take her children and fly before the break of day, Ned thought. She had lingered too long already."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "King Robert did not seem to miss her. He bid his brother Renly and Grand Maester Pycelle to stand in witness as he pressed his seal into the hot yellow wax that Ned had dripped upon his letter. \"Now give me something for the pain and let me die.\"\n\nHurriedly Grand Maester Pycelle mixed him another draught of the milk of the poppy. This time the king drank deeply. His black beard was beaded with thick white droplets when he threw the empty cup aside. \"Will I dream?\"\n\nNed gave him his answer. \"You will, my lord.\"\n\n\"Good,\" he said, smiling. \"I will give Lyanna your love, Ned. Take care of my children for me.\"\n\nThe words twisted in Ned's belly like a knife. Fora moment he was at a loss. He could not bring himself to lie. Then he remembered the bastards: little Barra at her mother's breast, Mya in the Vale, Gendry at his forge, and all the others. \"I shall... guard your children as if they were my own,\" he said slowly.\n\nRobert nodded and closed his eyes. Ned watched his old friend sag softly into the pillows as the milk of the poppy washed the pain from his face. Sleep took him.\n\nHeavy chains jangled softly as Grand Maester Pycelle came up to Ned. \"I will do all in my power, my lord, but the wound has mortified. It took them two days to get him back. By the time I saw him, it was too late. I can lessen His Grace's suffering, but only the gods can heal him now.\"\n\n\"How long?\" Ned asked.\n\n\"By rights, he should be dead already. I have never seen a man cling to life so fiercely.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My brother was always strong,\" Lord Renly said. \"Not wise, perhaps, but strong.\" In the sweltering heat of the bedchamber, his brow was slick with sweat. He might have been Robert's ghost as he stood there, young and dark and handsome. \"He slew the boar. His entrails were sliding from his belly, yet somehow he slew the boar.\" His voice was full of wonder.\n\n\"Robert was never a man to leave the battleground so long as a foe remained standing,\" Ned told him.\n\nOutside the door, Ser Barristan Selmy still guarded the tower stairs. \"Maester Pycelle has given Robert the milk of the poppy,\" Ned told him. \"See that no one disturbs his rest without leave from me.\"\n\n\"It shall be as you command, my lord.\" Ser Barristan seemed old beyond his years. \"I have failed my sacred trust.\"\n\n\"Even the truest knight cannot protect a king against himself,\" Ned said. \"Robert loved to hunt boar. I have seen him take a thousand of them.\" He would stand his ground without flinching, his legs braced, the great spear in his hands, and as often as not he would curse the boar as it charged, and wait until the last possible second, until it was almost on him, before he killed it with a single sure and savage thrust. \"No one could know this one would be his death.\"\n\n\"You are kind to say so, Lord Eddard.\"\n\n\"The king himself said as much. He blamed the wine.\"\n\nThe white-haired knight gave a weary nod. \"His Grace was reeling in his saddle by the time we flushed the boar from his lair, yet he commanded us all to stand aside.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I wonder, Ser Barristan,\" asked Varys, so quietly, \"who gave the king this wine?\"\n\nNed had not heard the eunuch approach, but when he looked around, there he stood. He wore a black velvet robe that brushed the floor, and his face was freshly powdered.\n\n\"The wine was from the king's own skin,\" Ser Barristan said.\n\n\"Only one skin? Hunting is such thirsty work.\"\n\n\"I did not keep count. More than one, fora certainty. His squire would fetch him afresh skin whenever he required it.\"\n\n\"Such a dutiful boy,\" said Varys, \"to make certain His Grace did not lack for refreshment.\"\n\nNed had a bitter taste in his mouth. He recalled the two fair-haired boys Robert had sent chasing after a breastplate stretcher. The king had told everyone the tale that night at the feast, laughing until he shook. \"Which squire?\"\n\n\"The elder,\" said Ser Barristan. \"Lancel.\"\n\n\"I know the lad well,\" said Varys. \"A stalwart boy, Ser Kevan Lannister's son, nephew to Lord Tywin and cousin to the queen. I hope the dear sweet lad does not blame himself. Children are so vulnerable in the innocence of their youth, how well do I remember.\"\n\nCertainly Varys had once been young. Ned doubted that he had ever been innocent. \"You mention children. Robert had a change of heart concerning Daenerys Targaryen. Whatever arrangements you made, I want unmade. At once.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" said Varys. \"At once maybe too late. I fear those birds have flown. But I shall do what I can, my lord. With your leave.\" He bowed and vanished down the steps, his soft-soled slippers whispering against the stone as he made his descent."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Cayn and Tomard were helping Ned across the bridge when Lord Renly emerged from Maegor's Holdfast."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lord Eddard,\" he called after Ned, \"a moment, if you would be so kind.\"\n\nNed stopped. \"As you wish.\"\n\nRenly walked to his side. \"Send your men away.\" They met in the center of the bridge, the dry moat beneath them. Moonlight silvered the cruel edges of the spikes that lined its bed.\n\nNed gestured. Tomard and Cayn bowed their heads and backed away respectfully. Lord Renly glanced warily at Ser Boros on the far end of the span, at Ser Preston in the doorway behind them. \"That letter.\" He leaned close. \"Was it the regency? Has my brother named you Protector?\" He did not wait fora reply. \"My lord, I have thirty men in my personal guard, and other friends beside, knights and lords. Give mean hour, and I can put a hundred swords in your hand.\"\n\n\"And what should I do with a hundred swords, my lord?\"\n\n\"Strike! Now, while the castle sleeps.\" Renly looked back at Ser Boros again and dropped his voice to an urgent whisper. \"We must get Joffrey away from his mother and take him in hand. Protector or no, the man who holds the king holds the kingdom. We should seize Myrcella and Tommen as well. Once we have her children, Cersei will not dare oppose us. The council will confirm you as Lord Protector and make Joffrey your ward.\"\n\nNed regarded him coldly. \"Robert is not dead yet. The gods may spare him. If not, I shall convene the council to hear his final words and consider the matter of the succession, but I will not dishonor his last hours on earth by shedding blood in his halls and dragging frightened children from their beds.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lord Renly took a step back, taut as a bowstring."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Every moment you delay gives Cersei another moment to prepare. By the time Robert dies, it maybe too late... for both of us.\"\n\n\"Then we should pray that Robert does not die.\"\n\n\"Small chance of that,\" said Renly.\n\n\"Sometimes the gods are merciful.\"\n\n\"The Lannisters are not.\" Lord Renly turned away and went back across the moat, to the tower where his brother lay dying.\n\nBy the time Ned returned to his chambers, he felt weary and heartsick, yet there was no question of his going back to sleep, not now. When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die, Cersei Lannister had told him in the godswood. He found himself wondering if he had done the right thing by refusing Lord Renly's offer. He had no taste for these intrigues, and there was no honor in threatening children, and yet... if Cersei elected to fight rather than flee, he might well have need of Renly's hundred swords, and more besides.\n\n\"I want Littlefinger,\" he told Cayn. \"If he's not in his chambers, take as many men as you need and search every winesink and whorehouse in King's Landing until you find him. Bring him tome before break of day.\" Cayn bowed and took his leave, and Ned turned to Tomard. \"The Wind Witch sails on the evening tide. Have you chosen the escort?\"\n\n\"Ten men, with Porther in command.\"\n\n\"Twenty, and you will command,\" Ned said. Porther was a brave man, but headstrong. He wanted someone more solid and sensible to keep watch over his daughters.\n\n\"As you wish, m'lord,\" Tom said. \"Can't say I'll be sad to seethe back of this place. I miss the wife.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You will pass near Dragonstone when you turn north. I need you to deliver a letter for me.\"\n\nTom looked apprehensive. \"To Dragonstone, m'lord?\" The island fortress of House Targaryen had a sinister repute.\n\n\"Tell Captain Qos to hoist my banner as soon as he comes insight of the island. They maybe wary of unexpected visitors. If he is reluctant, offer him whatever it takes. I will give you a letter to place into the hand of Lord Stannis Baratheon. No one else. Not his steward, nor the captain of his guard, nor his lady wife, but only Lord Stannis himself.\"\n\n\"As you command, m'lord.\"\n\nWhen Tomard had left him, Lord Eddard Stark sat staring at the flame of the candle that burned beside him on the table. Fora moment his grief overwhelmed him. He wanted nothing so much as to seek out the godswood, to kneel before the heart tree and pray for the life of Robert Baratheon, who had been more than a brother to him. Men would whisper afterward that Eddard Stark had betrayed his king's friendship and disinherited his sons; he could only hope that the gods would know better, and that Robert would learn the truth of it in the land beyond the grave.\n\nNed took out the king's last letter. A roll of crisp white parchment sealed with golden wax, a few short words and a smear of blood. How small the difference between victory and defeat, between life and death.\n\nHe drew out afresh sheet of paper and dipped his quill in the inkpot. To His Grace, Stannis of the House Baratheon, he wrote. By the time you receive this letter, your brother Robert, our King these past fifteen years, will be dead. He was savaged by a boar whilst hunting in the kingswood..."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The letters seemed to writhe and twist on the paper as his hand trailed to a stop. Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime were not men to suffer disgrace meekly; they would fight rather than flee. No doubt Lord Stannis was wary, after the murder of Jon Arryn, but it was imperative that he sail for King's Landing at once with all his power, before the Lannisters could march.\n\nNed chose each word with care. When he was done, he signed the letter Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Hand of the King, and Protector of the Realm, blotted the paper, folded it twice, and melted the sealing wax over the candle flame.\n\nHis regency would be a short one, he reflected as the wax softened. The new king would choose his own Hand. Ned would be free to go home. The thought of Winterfell brought a wan smile to his face. He wanted to hear Bran's laughter once more, to go hawking with Robb, to watch Rickon at play. He wanted to drift off to a dreamless sleep in his own bed with his arms wrapped tight around his lady, Catelyn.\n\nCayn returned as he was pressing the direwolf seal down into the soft white wax. Desmond was with him, and between them Littlefinger. Ned thanked his guards and sent them away.\n\nLord Petyr was clad in a blue velvet tunic with puffed sleeves, his silvery cape patterned with mockingbirds. \"I suppose congratulations are in order,\" he said as he seated himself.\n\nNed scowled. \"The king lies wounded and near to death.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Littlefinger said. \"I also know that Robert has named you Protector of the Realm.\"\n\nNed's eyes flicked to the king's letter on the table beside him, its seal unbroken. \"And how is it you know that, my lord?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Varys hinted as much,\" Littlefinger said, \"and you have just confirmed it.\"\n\nNed's mouth twisted in anger. \"Damn Varys and his little birds. Catelyn spoke truly, the man has some black art. I do not trust him.\"\n\n\"Excellent. You're learning.\" Littlefinger leaned forward. \"Yet I'll wager you did not drag me herein the black of night to discuss the eunuch.\"\n\n\"No,\" Ned admitted. \"I know the secret Jon Arryn was murdered to protect. Robert will leave no trueborn son behind him. Joffrey and Tommen are Jaime Lannister's bastards, born of his incestuous union with the queen.\"\n\nLittlefinger lifted an eyebrow. \"Shocking,\" he said in atone that suggested he was not shocked at all. \"The girl as well? No doubt. So when the king dies...\"\n\n\"The throne by rights passes to Lord Stannis, the elder of Robert's two brothers.\"\n\nLord Petyr stroked his pointed beard as he considered the matter. \"So it would seem. Unless...\"\n\n\"Unless, my lord? There is no seeming to this. Stannis is the heir. Nothing can change that.\"\n\n\"Stannis cannot take the throne without your help. If you're wise, you'll make certain Joffrey succeeds.\"\n\nNed gave him a stony stare. \"Have you no shred of honor?\"\n\n\"Oh, a shred, surely,\" Littlefinger replied negligently. \" Hear me out. Stannis is no friend of yours, nor of mine. Even his brothers can scarcely stomach him. The man is iron, hard and unyielding. He'll give us anew Hand and anew council, fora certainty. No doubt he'll thank you for handing him the crown, but he won't love you for it. And his ascent will mean war. Stannis cannot rest easy on the throne until Cersei and her bastards are dead. Do you think Lord Tywin will sit idly while his daughter's head is measured fora spike? Casterly Rock will rise, and not alone. Robert found it in him to pardon men who served King Aerys, so long as they did him fealty. Stannis is less forgiving. He will not have forgotten the siege of Storm's End, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dare not. Every man who fought beneath the dragon banner or rose with Balon Greyjoy will have good cause to fear. Seat Stannis on the Iron Throne and I promise you, the realm will bleed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Now look at the other side of the coin. Joffrey is but twelve, and Robert gave you the regency, my lord. You are the Hand of the King and Protector of the Realm. The power is yours, Lord Stark. All you need do is reach out and take it. Make your peace with the Lannisters. Release the Imp. Wed Joffrey to your Sansa. Wed your younger girl to Prince Tommen, and your heir to Myrcella. It will be four years before Joffrey comes of age. By then he will look to you as a second father, and if not, well... four years is a good long while, my lord. Long enough to dispose of Lord Stannis. Then, should Joffrey prove troublesome, we can reveal his little secret and put Lord Renly on the throne.\"\n\n\"We?\" Ned repeated.\n\nLittlefinger gave a shrug. \"You'll need someone to share your burdens. I assure you, my price would be modest.\"\n\n\"Your price.\" Ned's voice was ice. \"Lord Baelish, what you suggest is treason.\"\n\n\"Only if we lose.\"\n\n\"You forget,\" Ned told him. \"You forget Jon Arryn. You forget Jory Cassel. And you forget this.\" He drew the dagger and laid it on the table between them; a length of dragonbone and Valyrian steel, as sharp as the difference between right and wrong, between true and false, between life and death. \"They sent a man to cut my son's throat, Lord Baelish.\"\n\nLittlefinger sighed. \"I fear I did forget, my lord. Pray forgive me. Fora moment I did not remember that I was talking to a Stark.\" His mouth quirked. \"So it will be Stannis, and war?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is not a choice. Stannis is the heir.\"\n\n\"Far be it from me to dispute the Lord Protector. What would you have of me, then? Not my wisdom, fora certainty.\"\n\n\"I shall do my best to forget your... wisdom,\" Ned said with distaste. \"I called you hereto ask for the help you promised Catelyn. This is a perilous hour for all of us. Robert has named me Protector, true enough, but in the eyes of the world, Joffrey is still his son and heir. The queen has a dozen knights and a hundred men-at-arms who will do whatever she commands... enough to overwhelm what remains of my own household guard. And for all I know, her brother Jaime maybe riding for King's Landing even as we speak, with a Lannister host at his back.\"\n\n\"And you without an army.\" Littlefinger toyed with the dagger on the table, turning it slowly with a finger. \"There is small love lost between Lord Renly and the Lannisters. Bronze Yohn Royce, Ser Balon Swann, Ser Loras, Lady Tanda, the Redwyne twins... each of them has a retinue of knights and sworn swords here at court.\"\n\n\"Renly has thirty men in his personal guard, the rest even fewer. It is not enough, even if I could be certain that all of them will choose to give me their allegiance. I must have the gold cloaks. The City Watch is two thousand strong, sworn to defend the castle, the city, and the king's peace.\"\n\n\"Ah, but when the queen proclaims one king and the Hand another, whose peace do they protect?\" Lord Petyr flicked at the dagger with his finger, setting it spinning in place. Round and round it went, wobbling as it turned. When at last it slowed to a stop, the blade pointed at Littlefinger. \"Why, there's your answer,\" he said, smiling. \"They follow the man who pays them.\" He leaned back and looked Ned full in the face, his grey-green eyes bright with mockery. \"You wear your honor like a suit of armor, Stark. You think it keeps you safe, but all it does is weigh you down and make it hard for you to move. Look at you now. You know why you summoned me here. You know what you want to ask me to do. You know it has to be done... but it's not honorable, so the words stick in your throat.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 51"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is not a choice. Stannis is the heir.\"\n\n\"Far be it from me to dispute the Lord Protector. What would you have of me, then? Not my wisdom, fora certainty.\"\n\n\"I shall do my best to forget your... wisdom,\" Ned said with distaste. \"I called you hereto ask for the help you promised Catelyn. This is a perilous hour for all of us. Robert has named me Protector, true enough, but in the eyes of the world, Joffrey is still his son and heir. The queen has a dozen knights and a hundred men-at-arms who will do whatever she commands... enough to overwhelm what remains of my own household guard. And for all I know, her brother Jaime maybe riding for King's Landing even as we speak, with a Lannister host at his back.\"\n\n\"And you without an army.\" Littlefinger toyed with the dagger on the table, turning it slowly with a finger. \"There is small love lost between Lord Renly and the Lannisters. Bronze Yohn Royce, Ser Balon Swann, Ser Loras, Lady Tanda, the Redwyne twins... each of them has a retinue of knights and sworn swords here at court.\"\n\n\"Renly has thirty men in his personal guard, the rest even fewer. It is not enough, even if I could be certain that all of them will choose to give me their allegiance. I must have the gold cloaks. The City Watch is two thousand strong, sworn to defend the castle, the city, and the king's peace.\"\n\n\"Ah, but when the queen proclaims one king and the Hand another, whose peace do they protect?\" Lord Petyr flicked at the dagger with his finger, setting it spinning in place. Round and round it went, wobbling as it turned. When at last it slowed to a stop, the blade pointed at Littlefinger. \"Why, there's your answer,\" he said, smiling. \"They follow the man who pays them.\" He leaned back and looked Ned full in the face, his grey-green eyes bright with mockery. \"You wear your honor like a suit of armor, Stark. You think it keeps you safe, but all it does is weigh you down and make it hard for you to move. Look at you now. You know why you summoned me here. You know what you want to ask me to do. You know it has to be done... but it's not honorable, so the words stick in your throat.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned's neck was rigid with tension. Fora moment he was so angry that he did not trust himself to speak.\n\nLittlefinger laughed. \"I ought to make you say it, but that would be cruel... so have no fear, my good lord. For the sake of the love I bear for Catelyn, I will go to Janos Slynt this very hour and make certain that the City Watch is yours. Six thousand gold pieces should do it. A third for the Commander, a third for the officers, a third for the men. We might be able to buy them for half that much, but I prefer not to take chances.\" Smiling, he plucked up the dagger and offered it to Ned, hilt first."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon was breaking his fast on applecakes and blood sausage when Samwell Tarly plopped himself down on the bench. \"I've been summoned to the sept,\" Sam said in an excited whisper. \"They're passing me out of training. I'm to be made a brother with the rest of you. Can you believe it?\"\n\n\"No, truly?\"\n\n\"Truly. I'm to assist Maester Aemon with the library and the birds. He needs someone who can read and write letters.\"\n\n\"You'll do well at that,\" Jon said, smiling.\n\nSam glanced about anxiously. \"Is it time to go? I shouldn't be late, they might change their minds.\" He was fairly bouncing as they crossed the weed-strewn courtyard. The day was warm and sunny. Rivulets of water trickled down the sides of the Wall, so the ice seemed to sparkle and shine.\n\nInside the sept, the great crystal caught the morning light as it streamed through the south-facing window and spread it in a rainbow on the altar. Pyp's mouth dropped open when he caught sight of Sam, and Toad poked Grenn in the ribs, but no one dared say a word. Septon Celladar was swinging a censer, filling the air with fragrant incense that reminded Jon of Lady Stark's little sept in Winterfell. For once the septon seemed sober.\n\nThe high officers arrived in a body; Maester Aemon leaning on Clydas, Ser Alliser cold-eyed and grim, Lord Commander Mormont resplendent in a black wool doublet with silvered bearclaw fastenings. Behind them came the senior members of the three orders: red-faced Bowen Marsh the Lord Steward, First Builder Othell Yarwyck, and Ser Jaremy Rykker, who commanded the rangers in the absence of Benjen Stark."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mormont stood before the altar, the rainbow shining on his broad bald head. \"You came to us outlaws,\" he began, \" poachers, rapers, debtors, killers, and thieves. You came to us children. You came to us alone, in chains, with neither friends nor honor. You came to us rich, and you came to us poor. Some of you bear the names of proud houses. Others have only bastards' names, or no names at all. It makes no matter. All that is past now. On the Wall, we are all one house.\n\n\"At evenfall, as the sunsets and we face the gathering night, you shall take your vows. From that moment, you will be a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch. Your crimes will be washed away, your debts forgiven. So too you must wash away your former loyalties, put aside your grudges, forget old wrongs and old loves alike. Here you begin anew.\n\n\"A man of the Night's Watch lives his life for the realm. Not fora king, nor a lord, nor the honor of this house or that house, neither for gold nor glory nor a woman's love, but for the realm, and all the people in it. A man of the Night's Watch takes no wife and fathers no sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor. And you are the only sons we shall ever know.\n\n\"You have learned the words of the vow. Think carefully before you say them, for once you have taken the black, there is no turning back. The penalty for desertion is death.\" The Old Bear paused fora moment before he said, \"Are there any among you who wish to leave our company? If so, go now, and no one shall think the less of you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No one moved.\n\n\"Welland good,\" said Mormont. \"You may take your vows here at evenfall, before Septon Celladar and the first of your order. Do any of you keep to the old gods?\"\n\nJon stood. \"I do, my lord.\"\n\n\"I expect you will want to say your words before a heart tree, as your uncle did,\" Mormont said.\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" Jon said. The gods of the sept had nothing to do with him; the blood of the First Men flowed in the veins of the Starks.\n\nHe heard Grenn whispering behind him. \"There's no godswood here. Is there? I never saw a godswood.\"\n\n\"You wouldn't see a herd of aurochs until they trampled you into the snow,\" Pyp whispered back.\n\n\"I would so,\" Grenn insisted. \"I'd see them along way off.\"\n\nMormont himself confirmed Grenn's doubts. \"Castle Black has no need of a godswood. Beyond the Wall the haunted forest stands as it stood in the Dawn Age, long before the Andals brought the Seven across the narrow sea. You will find a grove of weirwoods half a league from this spot, and mayhap your gods as well.\"\n\n\"My lord.\" The voice made Jon glance back in surprise. Samwell Tarly was on his feet. The fat boy wiped his sweaty palms against his tunic. \"Might I... might I go as well? To say my words at this heart tree?\"\n\n\"Does House Tarly keep the old gods too?\" Mormont asked.\n\n\"No, my lord,\" Sam replied in a thin, nervous voice. The high officers frightened him, Jon knew, the Old Bear most of all. \"I was named in the light of the Seven at the sept on Horn Hill, as my father was, and his father, and all the Tarlys fora thousand years.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why would you forsake the gods of your father and your House?\" wondered Ser Jaremy Rykker.\n\n\"The Night's Watch is my House now,\" Sam said. \"The Seven have never answered my prayers. Perhaps the old gods will.\"\n\n\"As you wish, boy,\" Mormont said. Sam took his seat again, as did Jon. \"We have placed each of you in an order, as befits our need and your own strengths and skills.\" Bowen Marsh stepped forward and handed him a paper. The Lord Commander unrolled it and began to read. \"Halder, to the builders,\" he began. Halder gave a stiff nod of approval. \"Grenn, to the rangers. Albett, to the builders. Pypar, to the rangers,\" Pyp looked over at Jon and wiggled his ears. \"Samwell, to the stewards,\" Sam sagged with relief, mopping at his brow with a scrap of silk. \"Matthar, to the rangers. Dareon, to the stewards. Todder, to the rangers. Jon, to the stewards.\"\n\nThe stewards! Fora moment Jon could not believe what he had heard. Mormont must have read it wrong. He started to rise, to open his mouth, to tell them there had been a mistake... and then he saw Ser Alliser studying him, eyes shiny as two flakes of obsidian, and he knew.\n\nThe Old Bear rolled up the paper. \"Your firsts will instruct you in your duties. May all the gods preserve you, brothers.\" The Lord Commander favored them with a half bow, and took his leave. Ser Alliser went with him, a thin smile on his face. Jon had never seen the master-at-arms look quite so happy.\n\n\"Rangers with me,\" Ser Jaremy Rykker called when they were gone. Pyp was staring at Jonas he got slowly to his feet. His ears were red. Grenn, grinning broadly, did not seem to realize that anything was amiss. Matt and Toad fell in beside them, and they followed Ser Jaremy from the sept."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Builders,\" announced lantern-jawed Othell Yarwyck. Halder and Albett trailed out after him.\n\nJon looked around him in sick disbelief. Maester Aemon's blind eyes were raised toward the light he could not see. The septon was arranging crystals on the altar. Only Sam and Dareon remained on the benches; a fat boy, a singer... and him.\n\nLord Steward Bowen Marsh rubbed his plump hands together. \" Samwell, you will assist Maester Aemon in the rookery and library. Chett is going to the kennels, to help with the hounds. You shall have his cell, so as to be close to the maester night and day. I trust you will take good care of him. He is very old and very precious to us.\n\n\"Dareon, I am told that you sang at many a high lord's table and shared their meat and mead. We are sending you to Eastwatch. It maybe your palate will be some help to Cotter Pyke when merchant galleys come trading. We are paying too dear for salt beef and pickled fish, and the quality of the olive oil we're getting has been frightful. Present yourself to Borcas when you arrive, he will keep you busy between ships.\"\n\nMarsh turned his smile on Jon. \"Lord Commander Mormont has requested you for his personal steward, Jon. You'll sleep in a cell beneath his chambers, in the Lord Commander's tower.\"\n\n\"And what will my duties be?\" Jon asked sharply. \"Will I serve the Lord Commander's meals, help him fasten his clothes, fetch hot water for his bath?\"\n\n\"Certainly.\" Marsh frowned at Jon's tone. \"And you will run his messages, keep afire burning in his chambers, change his sheets and blankets daily, and do all else that the Lord Commander might require of you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you take me fora servant?\"\n\n\"No,\" Maester Aemon said, from the back of the sept. Clydas helped him stand. \"We took you fora man of Night's Watch... but perhaps we were wrong in that.\"\n\nIt was all Jon could do to stop himself from walking out. Was he supposed to churn butter and sew doublets like a girl for the rest of his days? \"May I go?\" he asked stiffly.\n\n\"As you wish,\" Bowen Marsh responded.\n\nDareon and Sam left with him. They descended to the yard in silence. Outside, Jon looked up at the Wall shining in the sun, the melting ice creeping down its side in a hundred thin fingers. Jon's rage was such that he would have smashed it all in an instant, and the world be damned.\n\n\"Jon,\" Samwell Tarly said excitedly. \"Wait. Don't you see what they're doing?\"\n\nJon turned on him in a fury. \"I see Ser Alliser's bloody hand, that's all I see. He wanted to shame me, and he has.\"\n\nDareon gave him a look. \"The stewards are fine for the likes of you and me, Sam, but not for Lord Snow.\"\n\n\"I'm a better swordsman and a better rider than any of you,\" Jon blazed back. \"It's not fair.\"\n\n\"Fair?\" Dareon sneered. \"The girl was waiting for me, naked as the day she was born. She pulled me through the window, and you talk tome of fair?\" He walked off.\n\n\"There is no shame in being a steward,\" Sam said.\n\n\"Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life washing an old man's smallclothes?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The old man is Lord Commander of the Night's Watch,\" Sam reminded him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\" You'll be with him day and night. Yes, you'll pour his wine and see that his bed linen is fresh, but you'll also take his letters, attend him at meetings, squire for him in battle. You'll be as close to him as his shadow. You'll know everything, be apart of everything... and the Lord Steward said Mormont asked for you himself!\n\n\"When I was little, my father used to insist that I attend him in the audience chamber whenever he held court. When he rode to Highgarden to bend his knee to Lord Tyrell, he made me come. Later, though, he started to take Dickon and leave meat home, and he no longer cared whether I sat through his audiences, so long as Dickon was there. He wanted his heir at his side, don't you see? To watch and listen and learn from all he did. I'll wager that's why Lord Mormont requested you, Jon. What else could it be? He wants to groom you for command!\"\n\nJon was taken aback. It was true, Lord Eddard had often made Robb part of his councils back at Winterfell. Could Sam be right? Even a bastard could rise high in the Night's Watch, they said. \"I never asked for this,\" he said stubbornly.\n\n\"None of us are here for asking,\" Sam reminded him.\n\nAnd suddenly Jon Snow was ashamed.\n\nCraven or not, Samwell Tarly had found the courage to accept his fate like a man. On the Wall, a man gets only what he earns, Benjen Stark had said the last night Jon had seen him alive. You're no ranger, Jon, only a green boy with the smell of summer still on you. He'd heard it said that bastards grow up faster than other children; on the Wall, you grew up or you died."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon let out a deep sigh. \"You have the right of it. I was acting the boy.\"\n\n\"Then you'll stay and say your words with me?\"\n\n\"The old gods will be expecting us.\" He made himself smile.\n\nThey set out late that afternoon. The Wall had no gates as such, neither here at Castle Black nor anywhere along its three hundred miles. They led their horses down a narrow tunnel cut through the ice, cold dark walls pressing in around them as the passage twisted and turned. Three times their way was blocked by iron bars, and they had to stop while Bowen Marsh drew out his keys and unlocked the massive chains that secured them. Jon could sense the vast weight pressing down on him as he waited behind the Lord Steward. The air was colder than a tomb, and more still. He felt a strange relief when they reemerged into the afternoon light on the north side of the Wall.\n\nSam blinked at the sudden glare and looked around apprehensively. \"The Wildlings... they wouldn't... they'd never dare come this close to the Wall. Would they?\"\n\n\"They never have.\" Jon climbed into his saddle. When Bowen Marsh and their ranger escort had mounted, Jon put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Ghost came loping out of the tunnel.\n\nThe Lord Steward's garron whickered and backed away from the direwolf. \"Do you mean to take that beast?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" Jon said. Ghost's head lifted. He seemed to taste the air. In the blink of an eye he was off, racing across the broad, weed-choked field to vanish in the trees.\n\nOnce they had entered the forest, they were in a different world. Jon had often hunted with his father and Jory and his brother Robb. He knew the wolfswood around Winterfell as well as any man. The haunted forest was much the same, and yet the feel of it was very different."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perhaps it was all in the knowing. They had ridden past the end of the world; somehow that changed everything. Every shadow seemed darker, every sound more ominous. The trees pressed close and shutout the light of the setting sun. A thin crust of snow cracked beneath the hooves of their horses, with a sound like breaking bones. When the wind set the leaves to rustling, it was like a chilly finger tracing a path up Jon's spine. The Wall was at their backs, and only the gods knew what lay ahead.\n\nThe sun was sinking below the trees when they reached their destination, a small clearing in the deep of the wood where nine weirwoods grew in a rough circle. Jon drew in a breath, and he saw Sam Tarly staring. Even in the wolfswood, you never found more than two or three of the white trees growing together; a grove of nine was unheard of. The forest floor was carpeted with fallen leaves, bloodred on top, black rot beneath. The wide smooth trunks were bone pale, and nine faces stared inward. The dried sap that crusted in the eyes was red and hard as ruby. Bowen Marsh commanded them to leave their horses outside the circle. \"This is a sacred place, we will not defile it.\"\n\nWhen they entered the grove, Samwell Tarly turned slowly looking at each face in turn. No two were quite alike. \"They're watching us,\" he whispered. \"The old gods.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Jon knelt, and Sam knelt beside him.\n\nThey said the words together, as the last light faded in the west and grey day became black night.\n\n\"Hear my words, and bear witness to my vow,\" they recited, their voices filling the twilit grove. \"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The woods fell silent. \"You knelt as boys,\" Bowen Marsh intoned solemnly. \"Rise now as men of the Night's Watch.\"\n\nJon held out a hand to pull Sam back to his feet. The rangers gathered round to offer smiles and congratulations, all but the gnarled old forester Dywen. \"Best we be starting back, m'lord,\" he said to Bowen Marsh. \"Dark's falling, and there's something in the smell o\" the night that I mislike.\"\n\nAnd suddenly Ghost was back, stalking softly between two weirwoods. White fur and red eyes, Jon realized, disquieted. Like the trees...\n\nThe wolf had something in his jaws. Something black. \"What's he got there?\" asked Bowen Marsh, frowning.\n\n\"Tome, Ghost.\" Jon knelt. \"Bring it here.\"\n\nThe direwolf trotted to him. Jon heard Samwell Tarly's sharp intake of breath.\n\n\"Gods be good,\" Dywen muttered. \"That's a hand.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The grey light of dawn was streaming through his window when the thunder of hoofbeats awoke Eddard Stark from his brief, exhausted sleep. He lifted his head from the table to look down into the yard. Below, men in mail and leather and crimson cloaks were making the morning ring to the sound of swords, and riding down mock warriors stuffed with straw. Ned watched Sandor Clegane gallop across the hard-packed ground to drive an iron-tipped lance through a dummy's head. Canvas ripped and straw exploded as Lannister guardsmen joked and cursed.\n\nIs this brave show for my benefit, he wondered. If so, Cersei was a greater fool than he'd imagined. Damn her, he thought, why is the woman not fled? I have given her chance after chance...\n\nThe morning was overcast and grim. Ned broke his fast with his daughters and Septa Mordane. Sansa, still disconsolate, stared sullenly at her food and refused to eat, but Arya wolfed down everything that was set in front of her. \"Syrio says we have time for one last lesson before we take ship this evening,\" she said. \"Can I, Father? All my things are packed.\"\n\n\"A short lesson, and make certain you leave yourself time to bathe and change. I want you ready to leave by midday, is that understood?\"\n\n\"By midday,\" Arya said.\n\nSansa looked up from her food. \"If she can have a dancing lesson, why won't you let me say farewell to Prince Joffrey?\"\n\n\"I would gladly go with her, Lord Eddard,\" Septa Mordane offered. \"There would be no question of her missing the ship.\"\n\n\"It would not be wise for you to go to Joffrey right now, Sansa. I'm sorry.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sansa's eyes filled with tears."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But why?\"\n\n\"Sansa, your lord father knows best,\" Septa Mordane said. \"You are not to question his decisions.\"\n\n\"It's not fair!\" Sansa pushed back from her table, knocked over her chair, and ran weeping from the solar.\n\nSepta Mordane rose, but Ned gestured her back to her seat. \"Let her go, Septa. I will try to make her understand when we are all safely back in Winterfell.\" The septa bowed her head and sat down to finish her breakfast.\n\nIt was an hour later when Grand Maester Pycelle came to Eddard Stark in his solar. His shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the great maester's chain around his neck had become too great to bear. \"My lord,\" he said, \"King Robert is gone. The gods give him rest.\"\n\n\"No,\" Ned answered. \"He hated rest. The gods give him love and laughter, and the joy of righteous battle.\" It was strange how empty he felt. He had been expecting the visit, and yet with those words, something died within him. He would have given all his titles for the freedom to weep... but he was Robert's Hand, and the hour he dreaded had come. \"Be so good as to summon the members of the council hereto my solar,\" he told Pycelle. The Tower of the Hand was as secure as he and Tomard could make it; he could not say the same for the council chambers.\n\n\"My lord?\" Pycelle blinked. \"Surely the affairs of the kingdom will keep till the morrow, when our grief is not so fresh.\"\n\nNed was quiet but firm. \"I fear we must convene at once.\"\n\nPycelle bowed. \"As the Hand commands.\" He called his servants and sent them running, then gratefully accepted Ned's offer of a chair and a cup of sweet beer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Barristan Selmy was the first to answer the summons, immaculate in white cloak and enameled scales. \"My lords,\" he said, \"my place is beside the young king now. Pray give me leave to attend him.\"\n\n\"Your place is here, Ser Barristan,\" Ned told him.\n\nLittlefinger came next, still garbed in the blue velvets and silver mockingbird cape he had worn the night previous, his boots dusty from riding. \"My lords,\" he said, smiling at nothing in particular before he turned to Ned. \"That little task you set me is accomplished, Lord Eddard.\"\n\nVarys entered in awash of lavender, pink from his bath, his plump face scrubbed and freshly powdered, his soft slippers all but soundless. \"The little birds sing a grievous song today,\" he said as he seated himself. \"The realm weeps. Shall we begin?\"\n\n\"When Lord Renly arrives,\" Ned said.\n\nVarys gave him a sorrowful look. \"I fear Lord Renly has left the city.\"\n\n\"Left the city?\" Ned had counted on Renly's support.\n\n\"He took his leave through a postern gate an hour before dawn, accompanied by Ser Loras Tyrell and some fifty retainers,\" Varys told them. \"When last seen, they were galloping south in some haste, no doubt bound for Storm's End or Highgarden.\"\n\nSo much for Renly and his hundred swords. Ned did not like the smell of that, but there was nothing to be done for it. He drew out Robert's last letter. \"The king called me to his side last night and commanded me to record his final words. Lord Renly and Grand Maester Pycelle stood witness as Robert sealed the letter, to be opened by the council after his death. Ser Barristan, if you would be so kind?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard examined the paper."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"King Robert's seal, and unbroken.\" He opened the letter and read. \"Lord Eddard Stark is herein named Protector of the Realm, to rule as regent until the heir comes of age.\"\n\nAnd as it happens, he is of age, Ned reflected, but he did not give voice to the thought. He trusted neither Pycelle nor Varys, and Ser Barristan was honor-bound to protect and defend the boy he thought his new king. The old knight would not abandon Joffrey easily. The need for deceit was a bitter taste in his mouth, but Ned knew he must tread softly here, must keep his counsel and play the game until he was firmly established as regent. There would be time enough to deal with the succession when Arya and Sansa were safely back in Winterfell, and Lord Stannis had returned to King's Landing with all his power.\n\n\"I would ask this council to confirm meas Lord Protector, as Robert wished,\" Ned said, watching their faces, wondering what thoughts hid behind Pycelle's half-closed eyes, Littlefinger's lazy half-smile, and the nervous flutter of Varys's fingers.\n\nThe door opened. Fat Tom stepped into the solar. \"Pardon, my lords, the king's steward insists...\"\n\nThe royal steward entered and bowed. \"Esteemed lords, the king demands the immediate presence of his small council in the throne room.\"\n\nNed had expected Cersei to strike quickly; the summons came as no surprise. \"The king is dead,\" he said, \"but we shall go with you nonetheless. Tom, assemble an escort, if you would.\"\n\nLittlefinger gave Ned his arm to help him down the steps. Varys, Pycelle, and Ser Barristan followed close behind. A double column of men-at-arms in chainmail and steel helms was waiting outside the tower, eight strong. Grey cloaks snapped in the wind as the guardsmen marched them across the yard. There was no Lannister crimson to be seen, but Ned was reassured by the number of gold cloaks visible on the ramparts and at the gates."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Janos Slynt met them at the door to the throne room, armored in ornate black-and-gold plate, with a high-crested helm under one arm. The Commander bowed stiffly. His men pushed open the great oaken doors, twenty feet tall and banded with bronze.\n\nThe royal steward led them in. \"All hail His Grace, Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,\" he sang out.\n\nIt was along walk to the far end of the hall, where Joffrey waited atop the Iron Throne. Supported by Littlefinger, Ned Stark slowly limped and hopped toward the boy who called himself king. The others followed. The first time he had come this way, he had been on horseback, sword in hand, and the Targaryen dragons had watched from the walls as he forced Jaime Lannister down from the throne. He wondered if Joffrey would step down quite so easily.\n\nFive knights of the Kingsguard-all but Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan-were arrayed in a crescent around the base of the throne. They were in full armor, enameled steel from helm to heel, long pale cloaks over their shoulders, shining white shields strapped to their left arms. Cersei Lannister and her two younger children stood behind Ser Boros and Ser Meryn. The queen wore a gown of sea-green silk, trimmed with Myrish lace as pale as foam. On her finger was a golden ring with an emerald the size of a pigeon's egg, on her head a matching tiara.\n\nAbove them, Prince Joffrey sat amidst the barbs and spikes in a cloth-of-gold doublet and a red satin cape. Sandor Clegane was stationed at the foot of the throne's steep narrow stair. He wore mail and soot-grey plate and his snarling dog's-head helm."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Behind the throne, twenty Lannister guardsmen waited with longswords hanging from their belts. Crimson cloaks draped their shoulders and steel lions crested their helms. But Littlefinger had kept his promise; all along the walls, in front of Robert's tapestries with their scenes of hunt and battle, the gold-cloaked ranks of the City Watch stood stiffly to attention, each man's hand clasped around the haft of an eight-foot-long spear tipped in black iron. They outnumbered the Lannisters five to one.\n\nNed's leg was ablaze of pain by the time he stopped. He kept a hand on Littlefinger's shoulder to help support his weight.\n\nJoffrey stood. His red satin cape was patterned in gold thread; fifty roaring lions to one side, fifty prancing stags to the other. \"I command the council to make all the necessary arrangements for my coronation,\" the boy proclaimed. \"I wish to be crowned within the fortnight. Today I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councillors.\"\n\nNed produced Robert's letter. \"Lord Varys, be so kind as to show this to my lady of Lannister.\"\n\nThe eunuch carried the letter to Cersei. The queen glanced at the words. \"Protector of the Realm,\" she read. \"Is this meant to be your shield, my lord? Apiece of paper?\" She ripped the letter in half, ripped the halves in quarters, and let the pieces flutter to the floor.\n\n\"Those were the king's words,\" Ser Barristan said, shocked.\n\n\"We have anew king now,\" Cersei Lannister replied. \"Lord Eddard, when last we spoke, you gave me some counsel. Allow me to return the courtesy. Bend the knee, my lord. Bend the knee and swear fealty to my son, and we shall allow you to step down as Hand and live out your days in the grey waste you call home.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Would that I could,\" Ned said grimly. If she was so determined to force the issue here and now, she left him no choice. \"Your son has no claim to the throne he sits. Lord Stannis is Robert's true heir.\"\n\n\"Liar!\" Joffrey screamed, his face reddening.\n\n\"Mother, what does he mean?\" Princess Myrcella asked the queen plaintively. \"Isn't Joff the king now?\"\n\n\"You condemn yourself with your own mouth, Lord Stark,\" said Cersei Lannister. \"Ser Barristan, seize this traitor.\"\n\nThe Lord Commander of the Kingsguard hesitated. In the blink of an eye he was surrounded by Stark guardsmen, bare steel in their mailed fists.\n\n\"And now the treason moves from words to deeds,\" Cersei said. \"Do you think Ser Barristan stands alone, my lord?\" With an ominous rasp of metal on metal, the Hound drew his longsword. The knights of the Kingsguard and twenty Lannister guardsmen in crimson cloaks moved to support him.\n\n\"Kill him!\" the boy king screamed down from the Iron Throne. \"Kill all of them, I command it!\"\n\n\"You leave me no choice,\" Ned told Cersei Lannister. He called out to Janos Slynt. \"Commander, take the queen and her children into custody. Do them no harm, but escort them back to the royal apartments and keep them there, under guard.\"\n\n\"Men of the Watch!\" Janos Slynt shouted, donning his helm. A hundred gold cloaks leveled their spears and closed.\n\n\"I want no bloodshed,\" Ned told the queen. \"Tell your men to lay down their swords, and no one need-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With a single sharp thrust, the nearest gold cloak drove his spear into Tomard's back. Fat Tom's blade dropped from nerveless fingers as the wet red point burst out through his ribs, piercing leather and mail. He was dead before his sword hit the floor.\n\nNed's shout came far too late. Janos Slynt himself slashed open Varly's throat. Cayn whirled, steel flashing, drove back the nearest spearman with a flurry of blows; for an instant it looked as though he might cut his way free. Then the Hound was on him. Sandor Clegane's first cut took off Cayn's sword hand at the wrist; his second drove him to his knees and opened him from shoulder to breastbone.\n\nAs his men died around him, Littlefinger slid Ned's dagger from its sheath and shoved it up under his chin. His smile was apologetic. \"I did warn you not to trust me, you know.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"High,\" Syrio Forel called out, slashing at her head. The stick swords clacked as Arya parried. \"Left,\" he shouted, and his blade came whistling. Hers darted to meet it. The clack made him click his teeth together.\n\n\"Right,\" he said, and'Low,\" and'Left,\" and'Left\" again, faster and faster, moving forward. Arya retreated before him, checking each blow.\n\n\"Lunge,\" he warned, and when he thrust she sidestepped, swept his blade away, and slashed at his shoulder. She almost touched him, almost, so close it made her grin. A strand of hair dangled in her eyes, limp with sweat. She pushed it away with the back of her hand.\n\n\"Left,\" Syrio sang out. \"Low.\" His sword was a blur, and the Small Hall echoed to the clack clack clack. \"Left. Left. High. Left. Right. Left. Low. Left!\"\n\nThe wooden blade caught her high in the breast, a sudden stinging blow that hurt all the more because it came from the wrong side. \"Ow,\" she cried out. She would have afresh bruise thereby the time she went to sleep, somewhere out at sea. A bruise is a lesson, she told herself, and each lesson makes us better.\n\nSyrio stepped back. \"You are dead now.\"\n\nArya made a face. \"You cheated,\" she said hotly. \"You said left and you went right.\"\n\n\"Just so. And now you area dead girl.\"\n\n\"But you lied!\"\n\n\"My words lied. My eyes and my arm shouted out the truth, but you were not seeing.\"\n\n\"I was so,\" Arya said. \"I watched you every second!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Watching is not seeing, dead girl. The water dancer sees. Come, put down the sword, it is time for listening now.\"\n\nShe followed him over to the wall, where he settled onto a bench. \"Syrio Forel was first sword to the Sealord of Braavos, and are you knowing how that came to pass?\"\n\n\"You were the finest swordsman in the city.\"\n\n\"Just so, but why? Other men were stronger, faster, younger, why was Syrio Forel the best? I will tell you now.\" He touched the tip of his little finger lightly to his eyelid. \" The seeing, the true seeing, that is the heart of it.\n\n\"Hear me. The ships of Braavos sail as far as the winds blow, to lands strange and wonderful, and when they return their captains fetch queer animals to the Sealord's menagerie. Such animals as you have never seen, striped horses, great spotted things with necks as long as stilts, hairy mouse-pigs as big as cows, stinging manticores, tigers that carry their cubs in a pouch, terrible walking lizards with scythes for claws. Syrio Forel has seen these things.\n\n\"On the day I am speaking of, the first sword was newly dead, and the Sealord sent for me. Many bravos had come to him, and as many had been sent away, none could say why. When I came into his presence, he was seated, and in his lap was a fat yellow cat. He told me that one of his captains had brought the beast to him, from an island beyond the sunrise. \"Have you ever seen her like?\" he asked of me.\n\n\"And to him I said, \"Each night in the alleys of Braavos I see a thousand like him,\" and the Sealord laughed, and that day I was named the first sword.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya screwed up her face. \"I don't understand.\"\n\nSyrio clicked his teeth together. \"The cat was an ordinary cat, no more. The others expected a fabulous beast, so that is what they saw. How large it was, they said. It was no larger than any other cat, only fat from indolence, for the Sealord fed it from his own table. What curious small ears, they said. Its ears had been chewed away in kitten fights. And it was plainly a tomcat, yet the Sealord said \"her,\" and that is what the others saw. Are you hearing?\"\n\nArya thought about it. \"You saw what was there.\"\n\n\"Just so. Opening your eyes is all that is needing. The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true. Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears. Taste with your mouth. Smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then comes the thinking, afterward, and in that way knowing the truth.\"\n\n\"Just so,\" said Arya, grinning.\n\nSyrio Forel allowed himself a smile. \"I am thinking that when we are reaching this Winterfell of yours, it will be time to put this needle in your hand.\"\n\n\"Yes!\" Arya said eagerly. \"Wait till I show Jon-\"\n\nBehind her the great wooden doors of the Small Hall flew open with a resounding crash. Arya whirled.\n\nA knight of the Kingsguard stood beneath the arch of the door with five Lannister guardsmen arrayed behind him. He was in full armor, but his visor was up. Arya remembered his droopy eyes and rust-colored whiskers from when he had come to Winterfell with the king: Ser Meryn Trant. The red cloaks wore mail shirts over boiled leather and steel caps with lion crests. \"Arya Stark,\" the knight said, \"come with us, child.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Arya chewed her lip uncertainly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"Your father wants to see you.\"\n\nArya took a step forward, but Syrio Forel held her by the arm. \"And why is it that Lord Eddard is sending Lannister men in the place of his own? I am wondering.\"\n\n\"Mind your place, dancing master,\" Ser Meryn said. \"This is no concern of yours.\"\n\n\"My father wouldn't send you,\" Arya said. She snatched up her stick sword. The Lannisters laughed.\n\n\"Put down the stick, girl,\" Ser Meryn told her. \"I am a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard, the White Swords.\"\n\n\"So was the Kingslayer when he killed the old king,\" Arya said. \"I don't have to go with you if I don't want.\"\n\nSer Meryn Trant ran out of patience. \"Take her,\" he said to his men. He lowered the visor of his helm.\n\nThree of them started forward, chainmail clinking softly with each step. Arya was suddenly afraid. Fear cuts deeper than swords, she told herself, to slow the racing of her heart.\n\nSyrio Forel stepped between them, tapping his wooden sword lightly against his boot. \"You will be stopping there. Are you men or dogs that you would threaten a child?\"\n\n\"Out of the way, old man,\" one of the red cloaks said.\n\nSyrio's stick came whistling up and rang against his helm. \"I am Syrio Forel, and you will now bespeaking tome with more respect.\"\n\n\"Bald bastard.\" The man yanked free his longsword. The stick moved again, blindingly fast. Arya heard aloud crack as the sword went clattering to the stone floor. \"My hand,\" the guardsman yelped, cradling his broken fingers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are quick, fora dancing master,\" said Ser Meryn.\n\n\"You are slow, fora knight,\" Syrio replied.\n\n\"Kill the Braavosi and bring me the girl,\" the knight in the white armor commanded.\n\nFour Lannister guardsmen unsheathed their swords. The fifth, with the broken fingers, spat and pulled free a dagger with his left hand.\n\nSyrio Forel clicked his teeth together, sliding into his water dancer's stance, presenting only his side to the foe. \"Arya child,\" he called out, never looking, never taking his eyes off the Lannisters, \"we are done with dancing for the day. Best you are going now. Run to your father.\"\n\nArya did not want to leave him, but he had taught her to do as he said. \"Swift as a deer,\" she whispered.\n\n\"Just so,\" said Syrio Forel as the Lannisters closed.\n\nArya retreated, her own sword stick clutched tightly in her hand. Watching him now, she realized that Syrio had only been toying with her when they dueled. The red cloaks came at him from three sides with steel in their hands. They had chainmail over their chest and arms, and steel codpieces sewn into their pants, but only leather on their legs. Their hands were bare, and the caps they wore had noseguards, but no visor over the eyes.\n\nSyrio did not wait for them to reach him, but spun to his left. Arya had never seen a man move as fast. He checked one sword with his stick and whirled away from a second. Off balance, the second man lurched into the first. Syrio put a boot to his back and the red cloaks went down together. The third guard came leaping over them, slashing at the water dancer's head. Syrio ducked under his blade and thrust upward. The guardsman fell screaming as blood welled from the wet red hole where his left eye had been."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The fallen men were getting up. Syrio kicked one in the face and snatched the steel cap off the other's head. The dagger man stabbed at him. Syrio caught the thrust in the helmet and shattered the man's kneecap with his stick. The last red cloak shouted a curse and charged, hacking down with both hands on his sword. Syrio rolled right, and the butcher's cut caught the helmetless man between neck and shoulder as he struggled to his knees. The longsword crunched through mail and leather and flesh. The man on his knees shrieked. Before his killer could wrench free his blade, Syrio jabbed him in the apple of his throat. The guardsman gave a choked cry and staggered back, clutching at his neck, his face blackening.\n\nFive men were down, dead, or dying by the time Arya reached the backdoor that opened on the kitchen. She heard Ser Meryn Trant curse. \"Bloody oafs,\" he swore, drawing his longsword from its scabbard.\n\nSyrio Forel resumed his stance and clicked his teeth together. \"Arya child,\" he called out, never looking at her, \"begone now.\"\n\nLook with your eyes, he had said. She saw: the knight in his pale armor head to foot, legs, throat, and hands sheathed in metal, eyes hidden behind his high white helm, and in his hand cruel steel. Against that: Syrio, in a leather vest, with a wooden sword in his hand. \"Syrio, run,\" she screamed.\n\n\"The first sword of Braavos does not run,\" he sang as Ser Meryn slashed at him. Syrio danced away from his cut, his stick a blur. Ina heartbeat, he had bounced blows off the knight's temple, elbow, and throat, the wood ringing against the metal of helm, gauntlet, and gorget. Arya stood frozen. Ser Meryn advanced; Syrio backed away. He checked the next blow, spun away from the second, deflected the third."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The fourth sliced his stick in two, splintering the wood and shearing through the lead core.\n\nSobbing, Arya spun and ran.\n\nShe plunged through the kitchens and buttery, blind with panic, weaving between cooks and potboys. A baker's helper stepped in front of her, holding a wooden tray. Arya bowled her over, scattering fragrant loaves of fresh-baked bread on the floor. She heard shouting behind her as she spun around a portly butcher who stood gaping at her with a cleaver in his hands. His arms were red to the elbow.\n\nAll that Syrio Forel had taught her went racing through her head. Swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. Fear cuts deeper than swords. The man who fears losing has already lost. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. The grip of her wooden sword was slick with sweat, and Arya was breathing hard when she reached the turret stair. For an instant she froze. Up or down? Up would take her to the covered bridge that spanned the small court to the Tower of the Hand, but that would be the way they'd expect her to go, for certain. Never do what they expect, Syrio once said. Arya went down, around and around, leaping over the narrow stone steps two and three at a time. She emerged in a cavernous vaulted cellar, surrounded by casks of ale stacked twenty feet tall. The only light came through narrow slanting windows high in the wall.\n\nThe cellar was a dead end. There was noway out but the way she had come in. She dare not go backup those steps, but she couldn't stay here, either. She had to find her father and tell him what had happened. Her father would protect her."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya thrust her wooden sword through her belt and began to climb, leaping from cask to cask until she could reach the window. Grasping the stone with both hands, she pulled herself up. The wall was three feet thick, the window a tunnel slanting up and out. Arya wriggled toward daylight. When her head reached ground level, she peered across the bailey to the Tower of the Hand.\n\nThe stout wooden door hung splintered and broken, as if by axes. A dead man sprawled facedown on the steps, his cloak tangled beneath him, the back of his mailed shirt soaked red. The corpse's cloak was grey wool trimmed with white satin, she saw with sudden terror. She could not tell who he was.\n\n\"No,\" she whispered. What was happening? Where washer father? Why had the red cloaks come for her? She remembered what the man with the yellow beard had said, the day she had found the monsters. If one Hand can die, why not a second? Arya felt tears in her eyes. She held her breath to listen. She heard the sounds of fighting, shouts, screams, the clang of steel on steel, coming through the windows of the Tower of the Hand.\n\nShe could not go back. Her father...\n\nArya closed her eyes. Fora moment she was too frightened to move. They had killed Jory and Wyl and Heward, and that guardsman on the step, whoever he had been. They could kill her father too, and her if they caught her. \"Fear cuts deeper than swords,\" she said aloud, but it was no good pretending to be a water dancer, Syrio had been a water dancer and the white knight had probably killed him, and anyhow she was only a little girl with a wooden stick, alone and afraid."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She squirmed out into the yard, glancing around warily as she climbed to her feet. The castle seemed deserted. The Red Keep was never deserted. All the people must be hiding inside, their doors barred. Arya glanced up longingly at her bedchamber, then moved away from the Tower of the Hand, keeping close to the wall as she slid from shadow to shadow. She pretended she was chasing cats... except she was the cat now, and if they caught her, they would kill her.\n\nMoving between buildings and over walls, keeping stone to her back wherever possible so no one could surprise her, Arya reached the stables almost without incident. A dozen gold cloaks in mail and plate ran pastas she was edging across the inner bailey, but without knowing whose side they were on, she hunched down low in the shadows and let them pass.\n\nHullen, who had been master of horse at Winterfell as long as Arya could remember, was slumped on the ground by the stable door. He had been stabbed so many times it looked as if his tunic was patterned with scarlet flowers. Arya was certain he was dead, but when she crept closer, his eyes opened. \"Arya Underfoot,\" he whispered. \"You must... warn your... your lord father...\" Frothy red spittle bubbled from his mouth. The master of horse closed his eyes again and said no more.\n\nInside were more bodies; a groom she had played with, and three of her father's household guard. A wagon, laden with crates and chests, stood abandoned near the door of the stable. The dead men must have been loading it for the trip to the docks when they were attacked. Arya snuck closer. One of the corpses was Desmond, who'd shown her his longsword and promised to protect her father. He lay on his back, staring blindly at the ceiling as flies crawled across his eyes. Close to him was a dead man in the red cloak and lion-crest helm of the Lannisters. Only one, though. Every northerner is worth ten of these southron swords, Desmond had told her. \"You liar!\" she said, kicking his body in a sudden fury."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The animals were restless in their stalls, whickering and snorting at the scent of blood."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya's only plan was to saddle a horse and flee, away from the castle and the city. All she had to do was stay on the kingsroad and it would take her back to Winterfell. She took a bridle and harness off the wall.\n\nAs she crossed in back of the wagon, a fallen chest caught her eye. It must have been knocked down in the fight or dropped as it was being loaded. The wood had split, the lid opening to spill the chest's contents across the ground. Arya recognized silks and satins and velvets she never wore. She might need warm clothes on the kingsroad, though... and besides...\n\nArya knelt in the dirt among the scattered clothes. She found a heavy woolen cloak, a velvet skirt and a silk tunic and some smallclothes, a dress her mother had embroidered for her, a silver baby bracelet she might sell. Shoving the broken lid out of the way, she groped inside the chest for Needle. She had hidden it way down at the bottom, under everything, but her stuff had all been jumbled around when the chest was dropped. Fora moment Arya was afraid someone had found the sword and stolen it. Then her fingers felt the hardness of metal under a satin gown.\n\n\"There she is,\" a voice hissed close behind her.\n\nStartled, Arya whirled. A stableboy stood behind her, a smirk on his face, his filthy white undertunic peeking out from beneath a soiled jerkin. His boots were covered with manure, and he had a pitchfork in one hand. \"Who are you?\" she asked.\n\n\"She don't know me,\" he said, \"but I knows her, oh, yes. The wolf girl.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Help me saddle a horse,\" Arya pleaded, reaching back into the chest, groping for Needle."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My father's the Hand of the King, he'll reward you.\"\n\n\"Father's dead,\" the boy said. He shuffled toward her. \"It's the queen who'll be rewarding me. Come here, girl.\"\n\n\"Stay away!\" Her fingers closed around Needle's hilt.\n\n\"I says, come.\" He grabbed her arm, hard.\n\nEverything Syrio Forel had ever taught her vanished in a heartbeat. In that instant of sudden terror, the only lesson Arya could remember was the one Jon Snow had given her, the very first.\n\nShe stuck him with the pointy end, driving the blade upward with a wild, hysterical strength.\n\nNeedle went through his leather jerkin and the white flesh of his belly and came out between his shoulder blades. The boy dropped the pitchfork and made a soft noise, something between a gasp and a sigh. His hands closed around the blade. \"Oh, gods,\" he moaned, as his undertunic began to redden. \"Take it out.\"\n\nWhen she took it out, he died.\n\nThe horses were screaming. Arya stood over the body, still and frightened in the face of death. Blood had gushed from the boy's mouth as he collapsed, and more was seeping from the slit in his belly, pooling beneath his body. His palms were cut where he'd grabbed at the blade. She backed away slowly, Needle red in her hand. She had to getaway, someplace far from here, someplace safe away from the stableboy's accusing eyes.\n\nShe snatched up the bridle and harness again and ran to her mare, but as she lifted the saddle to the horse's back, Arya realized with a sudden sick dread that the castle gates would be closed. Even the postern doors would likely be guarded. Maybe the guards wouldn't recognize her. If they thought she was a boy, perhaps they'd let her... no, they'd have orders not to let anyone out, it wouldn't matter whether they knew her or not."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But there was another way out of the castle...\n\nThe saddle slipped from Arya's fingers and fell to the dirt with a thump and a puff of dust. Could she find the room with the monsters again? She wasn't certain, yet she knew she had to try.\n\nShe found the clothing she'd gathered and slipped into the cloak, concealing Needle beneath its folds. The rest of her things she tied in a roll. With the bundle under her arm, she crept to the far end of the stable. Unlatching the backdoor, she peeked out anxiously. She could hear the distant sound of swordplay, and the shivery wail of a man screaming in pain across the bailey. She would need to go down the serpentine steps, past the small kitchen and the pig yard, that was how she'd gone last time, chasing the black tomcat... only that would take her right past the barracks of the gold cloaks. She couldn't go that way. Arya tried to think of another way. If she crossed to the other side of the castle, she could creep along the river wall and through the little godswood... but first she'd have to cross the yard, in the plain view of the guards on the walls.\n\nShe had never seen so many men on the walls. Gold cloaks, most of them, armed with spears. Some of them knew her by sight. What would they do if they saw her running across the yard? She'd look so small from up there, would they be able to tell who she was? Would they care?\n\nShe had to leave now, she told herself, but when the moment came, she was too frightened to move.\n\nCalm as still water, a small voice whispered in her ear. Arya was so startled she almost dropped her bundle. She looked around wildly, but there was no one in the stable but her, and the horses, and the dead men."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Quiet as a shadow, she heard. Was it her own voice, or Syrio's? She could not tell, yet somehow it calmed her fears.\n\nShe stepped out of the stable.\n\nIt was the scariest thing she'd ever done. She wanted to run and hide, but she made herself walk across the yard, slowly, putting one foot in front of the other as if she had all the time in the world and no reason to be afraid of anyone. She thought she could feel their eyes, like bugs crawling on her skin under her clothes. Arya never looked up. If she saw them watching, all her courage would desert her, she knew, and she would drop the bundle of clothes and run and cry like a baby, and then they would have her. She kept her gaze on the ground. By the time she reached the shadow of the royal sept on the far side of the yard, Arya was cold with sweat, but no one had raised the hue and cry.\n\nThe sept was open and empty. Inside, half a hundred prayer candles burned in a fragrant silence. Arya figured the gods would never miss two. She stuffed them up her sleeves, and left by aback window. Sneaking back to the alley where she had cornered the one-eared tom was easy, but after that she got lost. She crawled in and out of windows, hopped over walls, and felt her way through dark cellars, quiet as a shadow. Once she heard a woman weeping. It took her more than an hour to find the low narrow window that slanted down to the dungeon where the monsters waited.\n\nShe tossed her bundle through and doubled back to light her candle. That was chancy; the fire she'd remembered seeing had burnt down to embers, and she heard voices as she was blowing on the coals. Cupping her fingers around the flickering candle, she went out the window as they were coming in the door, without ever getting a glimpse of who it was."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This time the monsters did not frighten her. They seemed almost old friends. Arya held the candle over her head. With each step she took, the shadows moved against the walls, as if they were turning to watch her pass. \"Dragons,\" she whispered. She slid Needle out from under her cloak. The slender blade seemed very small and the dragons very big, yet somehow Arya felt better with steel in her hand.\n\nThe long windowless hall beyond the door was as black as she remembered. She held Needle in her left hand, her sword hand, the candle in her right fist. Hot wax ran down across her knuckles. The entrance to the well had been to the left, so Arya went right. Part of her wanted to run, but she was afraid of snuffing out her candle. She heard the faint squeaking of rats and glimpsed a pair of tiny glowing eyes on the edge of the light, but rats did not scare her. Other things did. It would be so easy to hide here, as she had hidden from the wizard and the man with the forked beard. She could almost seethe stableboy standing against the wall, his hands curled into claws with the blood still dripping from the deep gashes in his palms where Needle had cut him. He might be waiting to grab her as she passed. He would see her candle coming along way off. Maybe she would be better off without the light...\n\nFear cuts deeper than swords, the quiet voice inside her whispered. Suddenly Arya remembered the crypts at Winterfell. They were a lot scarier than this place, she told herself. She'd been just a little girl the first time she saw them. Her brother Robb had taken them down, her and Sansa and baby Bran, who'd been no bigger than Rickon was now. They'd only had one candle between them, and Bran's eyes had gotten as big as saucers as he stared at the stone faces of the Kings of Winter, with their wolves at their feet and their iron swords across their laps."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robb took them all the way down to the end, past Grandfather and Brandon and Lyanna, to show them their own tombs. Sansa kept looking at the stubby little candle, anxious that it might go out. Old Nan had told her there were spiders down here, and rats as big as dogs. Robb smiled when she said that. \"There are worse things than spiders and rats,\" he whispered. \"This is where the dead walk.\" That was when they heard the sound, low and deep and shivery. Baby Bran had clutched at Arya's hand.\n\nWhen the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs, and Bran wrapped himself around Robb's leg, sobbing. Arya stood her ground and gave the spirit a punch. It was only Jon, covered with flour. \"You stupid,\" she told him, \"you scared the baby,\" but Jon and Robb just laughed and laughed, and pretty soon Bran and Arya were laughing too.\n\nThe memory made Arya smile, and after that the darkness held no more terrors for her. The stableboy was dead, she'd killed him, and if he jumped out at her she'd kill him again. She was going home. Everything would be better once she was home again, safe behind Winterfell's grey granite walls.\n\nHer footsteps sent soft echoes hurrying ahead of her as Arya plunged deeper into the darkness."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They came for Sansa on the third day.\n\nShe chose a simple dress of dark grey wool, plainly cut but richly embroidered around the collar and sleeves. Her fingers felt thick and clumsy as she struggled with the silver fastenings without the benefit of servants. Jeyne Poole had been confined with her, but Jeyne was useless. Her face was puffy from all her crying, and she could not seem to stop sobbing about her father.\n\n\"I'm certain your father is well,\" Sansa told her when she had finally gotten the dress buttoned right. \"I'll ask the queen to let you see him.\" She thought that kindness might lift Jeyne's spirits, but the other girl just looked at her with red, swollen eyes and began to cry all the harder. She was such a child.\n\nSansa had wept too, the first day. Even within the stout walls of Maegor's Holdfast, with her door closed and barred, it was hard not to be terrified when the killing began. She had grownup to the sound of steel in the yard, and scarcely a day of her life had passed without hearing the clash of sword on sword, yet somehow knowing that the fighting was real made all the difference in the world. She heard it as she had never heard it before, and there were other sounds as well, grunts of pain, angry curses, shouts for help, and the moans of wounded and dying men. In the songs, the knights never screamed nor begged for mercy.\n\nSo she wept, pleading through her door for them to tell her what was happening, calling for her father, for Septa Mordane, for the king, for her gallant prince. If the men guarding her heard her pleas, they gave no answer. The only time the door opened was late that night, when they thrust Jeyne Poole inside, bruised and shaking. \"They're killing everyone,\" the steward's daughter had shrieked at her. She went on and on. The Hound had broken down her door with a warhammer, she said. There were bodies on the stair of the Tower of the Hand, and the steps were slick with blood. Sansa dried her own tears as she struggled to comfort her friend. They went to sleep in the same bed, cradled in each other's arms like sisters."
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The second day was even worse. The room where Sansa had been confined was at the top of the highest tower of Maegor's Holdfast. From its window, she could see that the heavy iron portcullis in the gatehouse was down, and the drawbridge drawn up over the deep dry moat that separated the keep-within-a-keep from the larger castle that surrounded it. Lannister guardsmen prowled the walls with spears and crossbows to hand. The fighting was over, and the silence of the grave had settled over the Red Keep. The only sounds were Jeyne Poole's endless whimpers and sobs.\n\nThey were fed-hard cheese and fresh-baked bread and milk to break their fast, roast chicken and greens at midday, and a late supper of beef and barley stew-but the servants who brought the meals would not answer Sansa's questions. That evening, some women brought her clothes from the Tower of the Hand, and some of Jeyne's things as well, but they seemed nearly as frightened as Jeyne, and when she tried to talk to them, they fled from her as if she had the grey plague. The guards outside the door still refused to let them leave the room.\n\n\"Please, I need to speak to the queen again,\" Sansa told them, as she told everyone she saw that day. \"She'll want to talk tome, I know she will. Tell her I want to see her, please. If not the queen, then Prince Joffrey, if you'd be so kind. We're to marry when we're older.\"\n\nAt sunset on the second day, a great bell began to ring. Its voice was deep and sonorous, and the long slow clanging filled Sansa with a sense of dread. The ringing went on and on, and after awhile they heard other bells answering from the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya's Hill. The sound rumbled across the city like thunder, warning of the storm to come."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What is it?\" Jeyne asked, covering her ears. \"Why are they ringing the bells?\"\n\n\"The king is dead.\" Sansa could not say how she knew it, yet she did. The slow, endless clanging filled their room, as mournful as a dirge. Had some enemy stormed the castle and murdered King Robert? Was that the meaning of the fighting they had heard?\n\nShe went to sleep wondering, restless, and fearful. Washer beautiful Joffrey the king now? Or had they killed him too? She was afraid for him, and for her father. If only they would tell her what was happening...\n\nThat night Sansa dreamt of Joffrey on the throne, with herself seated beside him in a gown of woven gold. She had a crown on her head, and everyone she had ever known came before her, to bend the knee and say their courtesies.\n\nThe next morning, the morning of the third day, Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard came to escort her to the queen.\n\nSer Boros was an ugly man with abroad chest and short, bandy legs. His nose was flat, his cheeks baggy with jowls, his hair grey and brittle. Today he wore white velvet, and his snowy cloak was fastened with a lion brooch. The beast had the soft sheen of gold, and his eyes were tiny rubies. \"You look very handsome and splendid this morning, Ser Boros,\" Sansa told him. A lady remembered her courtesies, and she was resolved to be a lady no matter what.\n\n\"And you, my lady,\" Ser Boros said in a flat voice. \"Her Grace awaits. Come with me.\"\n\nThere were guards outside her door, Lannister men-at-arms in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms. Sansa made herself smile at them pleasantly and bid them a good morning as she passed. It was the first time she had been allowed outside the chamber since Ser Arys Oakheart had led her there two mornings past. \"To keep you safe, my sweet one,\" Queen Cersei had told her. \"Joffrey would never forgive me if anything happened to his precious.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the plot as the writer's tale assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 54"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What is it?\" Jeyne asked, covering her ears. \"Why are they ringing the bells?\"\n\n\"The king is dead.\" Sansa could not say how she knew it, yet she did. The slow, endless clanging filled their room, as mournful as a dirge. Had some enemy stormed the castle and murdered King Robert? Was that the meaning of the fighting they had heard?\n\nShe went to sleep wondering, restless, and fearful. Washer beautiful Joffrey the king now? Or had they killed him too? She was afraid for him, and for her father. If only they would tell her what was happening...\n\nThat night Sansa dreamt of Joffrey on the throne, with herself seated beside him in a gown of woven gold. She had a crown on her head, and everyone she had ever known came before her, to bend the knee and say their courtesies.\n\nThe next morning, the morning of the third day, Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard came to escort her to the queen.\n\nSer Boros was an ugly man with abroad chest and short, bandy legs. His nose was flat, his cheeks baggy with jowls, his hair grey and brittle. Today he wore white velvet, and his snowy cloak was fastened with a lion brooch. The beast had the soft sheen of gold, and his eyes were tiny rubies. \"You look very handsome and splendid this morning, Ser Boros,\" Sansa told him. A lady remembered her courtesies, and she was resolved to be a lady no matter what.\n\n\"And you, my lady,\" Ser Boros said in a flat voice. \"Her Grace awaits. Come with me.\"\n\nThere were guards outside her door, Lannister men-at-arms in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms. Sansa made herself smile at them pleasantly and bid them a good morning as she passed. It was the first time she had been allowed outside the chamber since Ser Arys Oakheart had led her there two mornings past. \"To keep you safe, my sweet one,\" Queen Cersei had told her. \"Joffrey would never forgive me if anything happened to his precious.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sansa had expected that Ser Boros would escort her to the royal apartments, but instead he led her out of Maegor's Holdfast."
},
{
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"value": "The bridge was down again. Some workmen were lowering a man on ropes into the depths of the dry moat. When Sansa peered down, she saw a body impaled on the huge iron spikes below. She averted her eyes quickly, afraid to ask, afraid to look too long, afraid he might be someone she knew.\n\nThey found Queen Cersei in the council chambers, seated at the head of along table littered with papers, candles, and blocks of sealing wax. The room was as splendid as any that Sansa had ever seen. She stared in awe at the carved wooden screen and the twin sphinxes that sat beside the door.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Ser Boros said when they were ushered inside by another of the Kingsguard, Ser Mandon of the curiously dead face, \"I've brought the girl.\"\n\nSansa had hoped Joffrey might be with her. Her prince was not there, but three of the king's councillors were. Lord Petyr Baelish sat on the queen's left hand, Grand Maester Pycelle at the end of the table, while Lord Varys hovered over them, smelling flowery. All of them were clad in black, she realized with a feeling of dread. Mourning clothes...\n\nThe queen wore a high-collared black silk gown, with a hundred dark red rubies sewn into her bodice, covering her from neck to bosom. They were cut in the shape of teardrops, as if the queen were weeping blood. Cersei smiled to see her, and Sansa thought it was the sweetest and saddest smile she had ever seen. \"Sansa, my sweet child,\" she said, \"I know you've been asking for me. I'm sorry that I could not send for you sooner. Matters have been very unsettled, and I have not had a moment. I trust my people have been taking good care of you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Everyone has been very sweet and pleasant, Your Grace, thank you ever so much for asking,\" Sansa said politely. \"Only, well, no one will talk to us or tell us what's happened...\"\n\n\"Us?\" Cersei seemed puzzled.\n\n\"We put the steward's girl in with her,\" Ser Boros said. \"We did not know what else to do with her.\"\n\nThe queen frowned. \"Next time, you will ask,\" she said, her voice sharp. \"The gods only know what sort of tales she's been filling Sansa's head with.\"\n\n\"Jeyne's scared,\" Sansa said. \"She won't stop crying. I promised her I'd ask if she could see her father.\"\n\nOld Grand Maester Pycelle lowered his eyes.\n\n\"Her father is well, isn't he?\" Sansa said anxiously. She knew there had been fighting, but surely no one would harm a steward. Vayon Poole did not even wear a sword.\n\nQueen Cersei looked at each of the councillors in turn. \"I won't have Sansa fretting needlessly. What shall we do with this little friend of hers, my lords?\"\n\nLord Petyr leaned forward. \"I'll find a place for her.\"\n\n\"Not in the city,\" said the queen.\n\n\"Do you take me fora fool?\"\n\nThe queen ignored that. \"Ser Boros, escort this girl to Lord Petyr's apartments and instruct his people to keep her there until he comes for her. Tell her that Littlefinger will betaking her to see her father, that ought to calm her down. I want her gone before Sansa returns to her chamber.\"\n\n\"As you command, Your Grace,\" Ser Boros said. He bowed deeply, spun on his heel, and took his leave, his long white cloak stirring the air behind him."
},
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"value": "Sansa was confused. \"I don't understand,\" she said. \"Where is Jeyne's father? Why can't Ser Boros take her to him instead of Lord Petyr having to do it?\" She had promised herself she would be a lady, gentle as the queen and as strong as her mother, the Lady Catelyn, but all of a sudden she was scared again. Fora second she thought she might cry. \"Where are you sending her? She hasn't done anything wrong, she's a good girl.\"\n\n\"She's upset you,\" the queen said gently. \"We can't behaving that. Not another word, now. Lord Baelish will see that Jeyne's well taken care of, I promise you.\" She patted the chair beside her. \"Sit down, Sansa. I want to talk to you.\"\n\nSansa seated herself beside the queen. Cersei smiled again, but that did not make her feel any less anxious. Varys was wringing his soft hands together, Grand Maester Pycelle kept his sleepy eyes on the papers in front of him, but she could feel Littlefinger staring. Something about the way the small man looked at her made Sansa feel as though she had no clothes on. Goosebumps pimpled her skin.\n\n\"Sweet Sansa,\" Queen Cersei said, laying a soft hand on her wrist. \"Such a beautiful child. I do hope you know how much Joffrey and I love you.\"\n\n\"You do?\" Sansa said, breathless. Littlefinger was forgotten. Her prince loved her. Nothing else mattered.\n\nThe queen smiled. \"I think of you almost as my own daughter. And I know the love you bear for Joffrey.\" She gave a weary shake of her head. \"I am afraid we have some grave news about your lord father. You must be brave, child.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her quiet words gave Sansa a chill. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Your father is a traitor, dear,\" Lord Varys said.\n\nGrand Maester Pycelle lifted his ancient head. \"With my own ears, I heard Lord Eddard swear to our beloved King Robert that he would protect the young princes as if they were his own sons. And yet the moment the king was dead, he called the small council together to steal Prince Joffrey's rightful throne.\"\n\n\"No,\" Sansa blurted. \"He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't!\"\n\nThe queen picked up a letter. The paper was torn and stiff with dried blood, but the broken seal washer father's, the direwolf stamped in pale wax. \"We found this on the captain of your household guard, Sansa. It is a letter to my late husband's brother Stannis, inviting him to take the crown.\"\n\n\"Please, Your Grace, there's been a mistake.\" Sudden panic made her dizzy and faint. \"Please, send for my father, he'll tell you, he would never write such a letter, the king was his friend.\"\n\n\"Robert thought so,\" said the queen. \"This betrayal would have broken his heart. The gods are kind, that he did not live to see it.\" She sighed. \"Sansa, sweetling, you must see what a dreadful position this has left us in. You are innocent of any wrong, we all know that, and yet you are the daughter of a traitor. How can I allow you to marry my son?\"\n\n\"But I love him,\" Sansa wailed, confused and frightened. What did they mean to do to her? What had they done to her father? It was not supposed to happen this way. She had towed Joffrey, they were betrothed, he was promised to her, she had even dreamed about it. It wasn't fair to take him away from heron account of whatever her father might have done."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How well I know that, child,\" Cersei said, her voice so kind and sweet. \"Why else should you have come tome and told me of your father's plan to send you away from us, if not for love?\"\n\n\"It was for love,\" Sansa said in a rush. \"Father wouldn't even give me leave to say farewell.\" She was the good girl, the obedient girl, but she had felt as wicked as Arya that morning, sneaking away from Septa Mordane, defying her lord father. She had never done anything so willful before, and she would never have done it then if she hadn't loved Joffrey as much as she did. \"He was going to take me back to Winterfell and marry me to some hedge knight, even though it was Joff I wanted. I told him, but he wouldn't listen.\" The king had been her last hope. The king could command Father to let her stay in King's Landing and marry Prince Joffrey, Sansa knew he could, but the king had always frightened her. He was loud and rough-voiced and drunk as often as not, and he would probably have just sent her back to Lord Eddard, if they even let her see him. So she went to the queen instead, and poured out her heart, and Cersei had listened and thanked her sweetly... only then Ser Arys had escorted her to the high room in Maegor's Holdfast and posted guards, and a few hours later, the fighting had begun outside. \"Please,\" she finished, \"you have to let me marry Joffrey, I'll be ever so good a wife to him, you'll see. I'll be a queen just like you, I promise.\"\n\nQueen Cersei looked to the others. \"My lords of the council, what do you say to her plea?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The poor child,\" murmured Varys. \"A love so true and innocent, Your Grace, it would be cruel to deny it... and yet, what can we do? Her father stands condemned.\" His soft hands washed each other in a gesture of helpless distress.\n\n\"A child born of traitor's seed will find that betrayal comes naturally to her,\" said Grand Maester Pycelle. \"She is a sweet thing now, but in ten years, who can say what treasons she may hatch?\"\n\n\"No,\" Sansa said, horrified. \"I'm not, I'd never... I wouldn't betray Joffrey, I love him, I swear it, I do.\"\n\n\"Oh, so poignant,\" said Varys. \"And yet, it is truly said that blood runs truer than oaths.\"\n\n\"She reminds me of the mother, not the father,\" Lord Petyr Baelish said quietly. \"Look at her. The hair, the eyes. She is the very image of Cat at the same age.\"\n\nThe queen looked at her, troubled, and yet Sansa could see kindness in her clear green eyes. \"Child,\" she said, \"if I could truly believe that you were not like your father, why nothing should please me more than to see you wed to my Joffrey. I know he loves you with all his heart.\" She sighed. \"And yet, I fear that Lord Varys and the Grand Maester have the right of it. The blood will tell. I have only to remember how your sister set her wolf on my son.\"\n\n\"I'm not like Arya,\" Sansa blurted. \"She has the traitor's blood, not me. I'm good, ask Septa Mordane, she'll tell you, I only want to be Joffrey's loyal and loving wife.\""
},
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"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She felt the weight of Cersei's eyes as the queen studied her face. \"I believe you mean it, child.\" She turned to face the others. \"My lords, it seems tome that if the rest of her kin were to remain loyal in this terrible time, that would go along way toward laying our fears to rest.\"\n\nGrand Maester Pycelle stroked his huge soft beard, his wide brow furrowed in thought. \"Lord Eddard has three sons.\"\n\n\"Mere boys,\" Lord Petyr said with a shrug. \"I should be more concerned with Lady Catelyn and the Tullys.\"\n\nThe queen took Sansa's hand in both of hers. \"Child, do you know your letters?\"\n\nSansa nodded nervously. She could read and write better than any of her brothers, although she was hopeless at sums.\n\n\"I am pleased to hear that. Perhaps there is hope for you and Joffrey still...\"\n\n\"What do you want me to do?\"\n\n\"You must write your lady mother, and your brother, the eldest... what is his name?\"\n\n\"Robb,\" Sansa said.\n\n\"The word of your lord father's treason will no doubt reach them soon. Better that it should come from you. You must tell them how Lord Eddard betrayed his king.\"\n\nSansa wanted Joffrey desperately, but she did not think she had the courage to do as the queen was asking. \"But he never... I don't... Your Grace, I wouldn't know what to say...\"\n\nThe queen patted her hand. \"We will tell you what to write, child. The important thing is that you urge Lady Catelyn and your brother to keep the king's peace.\"\n\n\"It will go hard for them if they don't,\" said Grand Maester Pycelle. \"By the love you bear them, you must urge them to walk the path of wisdom.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Your lady mother will no doubt fear for you dreadfully,\" the queen said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You must tell her that you are well and in our care, that we are treating you gently and seeing to your every want. Bid them to come to King's Landing and pledge their fealty to Joffrey when he takes his throne. If they do that... why, then we shall know that there is no taint in your blood, and when you come into the flower of your womanhood, you shall wed the king in the Great Sept of Baelor, before the eyes of gods and men.\"\n\n... wed the king... The words made her breath come faster, yet still Sansa hesitated. \"Perhaps... if I might see my father, talk to him about...\"\n\n\"Treason?\" Lord Varys hinted.\n\n\"You disappoint me, Sansa,\" the queen said, with eyes gone hard as stones. \"We've told you of your father's crimes. If you are truly as loyal as you say, why should you want to see him?\"\n\n\"I... I only meant...\" Sansa felt her eyes grow wet. \"He's not... please, he hasn't been... hurt, or... or...\"\n\n\"Lord Eddard has not been harmed,\" the queen said.\n\n\"But... what's to become of him?\"\n\n\"That is a matter for the king to decide,\" Grand Maester Pycelle announced ponderously.\n\nThe king! Sansa blinked back her tears. Joffrey was the king now, she thought. Her gallant prince would never hurt her father, no matter what he might have done. If she went to him and pleaded for mercy, she was certain he'd listen. He had to listen, he loved her, even the queen said so. Joff would need to punish Father, the lords would expect it, but perhaps he could send him back to Winterfell, or exile him to one of the Free Cities across the narrow sea. It would only have to be fora few years. By then she and Joffrey would be married. Once she was queen, she could persuade Joff to bring Father back and grant him a pardon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Only... if Mother or Robb did anything treasonous, called the banners or refused to swear fealty or anything, it would all go wrong. Her Joffrey was good and kind, she knew it in her heart, but a king had to be stern with rebels. She had to make them understand, she had to!\n\n\"I'll... I'll write the letters,\" Sansa told them.\n\nWith a smile as warm as the sunrise, Cersei Lannister leaned close and kissed her gently on the cheek. \"I knew you would. Joffrey will be so proud when I tell him what courage and good sense you've shown here today.\"\n\nIn the end, she wrote four letters. To her mother, the Lady Catelyn Stark, and to her brothers at Winterfell, and to her aunt and her grandfather as well, Lady Lysa Arryn of the Eyrie, and Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun. By the time she had done, her fingers were cramped and stiff and stained with ink. Varys had her father's seal. She warmed the pale white beeswax over a candle, poured it carefully, and watched as the eunuch stamped each letter with the direwolf of House Stark.\n\nJeyne Poole and all her things were gone when Ser Mandon Moore returned Sansa to the high tower of Maegor's Holdfast. No more weeping, she thought gratefully. Yet somehow it seemed colder with Jeyne gone, even after she'd built afire. She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Lady Shella and the Rainbow Knight, of valiant Prince Aemon and his doomed love for his brother's queen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was not until later that night, as she was drifting off to sleep, that Sansa realized she had forgotten to ask about her sister."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"O thor,\" announced Ser Jaremy Rykker, \"beyond a doubt. And this one was Jafer Flowers.\" He turned the corpse over with his foot, and the dead white face stared up at the overcast sky with blue, blue eyes. \"They were Ben Stark's men, both of them.\"\n\nMy uncle's men, Jon thought numbly. He remembered how he'd pleaded to ride with them. Gods, I was such a green boy. If he had taken me, it might be me lying here...\n\nJafer's right wrist ended in the ruin of torn flesh and splintered bone left by Ghost's jaws. His right hand was floating in ajar of vinegar back in Maester Aemon's tower. His left hand, still at the end of his arm, was as black as his cloak.\n\n\"Gods have mercy,\" the Old Bear muttered. He swung down from his garron, handing his reins to Jon. The morning was unnaturally warm; beads of sweat dotted the Lord Commander's broad forehead like dew on a melon. His horse was nervous, rolling her eyes, backing away from the dead men as far as her lead would allow. Jon led her off a few paces, fighting to keep her from bolting. The horses did not like the feel of this place. For that matter, neither did Jon.\n\nThe dogs liked it least of all. Ghost had led the party here; the pack of hounds had been useless. When Bass the kennelmaster had tried to get them to take the scent from the severed hand, they had gone wild, yowling and barking, fighting to getaway. Even now they were snarling and whimpering by turns, pulling at their leashes while Chett cursed them for curs.\n\nIt is only a wood, Jon told himself, and they're only dead men. He had seen dead men before..."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Last night he had dreamt the Winterfell dream again. He was wandering the empty castle, searching for his father, descending into the crypts. Only this time the dream had gone further than before. In the dark he'd heard the scrape of stone on stone. When he turned he saw that the vaults were opening, one after the other. As the dead kings came stumbling from their cold black graves, Jon had woken in pitch-dark, his heart hammering. Even when Ghost leapt upon the bed to nuzzle at his face, he could not shake his deep sense of terror. He dared not go back to sleep. Instead he had climbed the Wall and walked, restless, until he saw the light of the dawn off to the east. It was only a dream. I am a brother of the Night's Watch now, not a frightened boy.\n\nSamwell Tarly huddled beneath the trees, half-hidden behind the horses. His round fat face was the color of curdled milk. So far he had not lurched off to the woods to retch, but he had not so much as glanced at the dead men either. \"I can't look,\" he whispered miserably.\n\n\"You have to look,\" Jon told him, keeping his voice low so the others would not hear. \"Maester Aemon sent you to be his eyes, didn't he? What good are eyes if they're shut?\"\n\n\"Yes, but... I'm such a coward, Jon.\"\n\nJon put a hand on Sam's shoulder. \"We have a dozen rangers with us, and the dogs, even Ghost. No one will hurt you, Sam. Go ahead and look. The first look is the hardest.\"\n\nSam gave a tremulous nod, working up his courage with a visible effort. Slowly he swiveled his head. His eyes widened, but Jon held his arm so he could not turn away."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
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"value": "\"Ser Jaremy,\" the Old Bear asked gruffly, \"Ben Stark had six men with him when he rode from the Wall. Where are the others?\"\n\nSer Jaremy shook his head. \"Would that I knew.\"\n\nPlainly Mormont was not pleased with that answer. \"Two of our brothers butchered almost within sight of the Wall, yet your rangers heard nothing, saw nothing. Is this what the Night's Watch has fallen to? Do we still sweep these woods?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord, but-\"\n\n\"Do we still mount watches?\"\n\n\"We do, but-\"\n\n\"This man wears a hunting horn.\" Mormont pointed at Othor. \"Must I suppose that he died without sounding it? Or have your rangers all gone deaf as well as blind?\"\n\nSer Jaremy bristled, his face taut with anger. \"No horn was blown, my lord, or my rangers would have heard it. I do not have sufficient men to mount as many patrols as I should like... and since Benjen was lost, we have stayed closer to the Wall than we were wont to do before, by your own command.\"\n\nThe Old Bear grunted. \"Yes. Well. Be that as it may.\" He made an impatient gesture. \"Tell me how they died.\"\n\nSquatting beside the dead man he had named Jafer Flowers, Ser Jaremy grasped his head by the scalp. The hair came out between his fingers, brittle as straw. The knight cursed and shoved at the face with the heel of his hand. A great gash in the side of the corpse's neck opened like a mouth, crusted with dried blood. Only a few ropes of pale tendon still attached the head to the neck. \"This was done with an axe.\""
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"value": "\"Aye,\" muttered Dywen, the old forester. \"Belike the axe that Othor carried, m'lord.\"\n\nJon could feel his breakfast churning in his belly, but he pressed his lips together and made himself look at the second body. Othor had been a big ugly man, and he made a big ugly corpse. No axe was in evidence. Jon remembered Othor; he had been the one bellowing the bawdy song as the rangers rode out. His singing days were done. His flesh was blanched white as milk, everywhere but his hands. His hands were black like Jafer's. Blossoms of hard cracked blood decorated the mortal wounds that covered him like a rash, breast and groin and throat. Yet his eyes were still open. They stared up at the sky, blue as sapphires.\n\nSer Jaremy stood. \"The Wildlings have axes too.\"\n\nMormont rounded on him. \"So you believe this is Mance Rayder's work? This close to the Wall?\"\n\n\"Who else, my lord?\"\n\nJon could have told him. He knew, they all knew, yet no man of them would say the words. The Others are only a story, a tale to make children shiver. If they ever lived at all, they are gone eight thousand years. Even the thought made him feel foolish; he was a man grown now, a black brother of the Night's Watch, not the boy who'd once sat at Old Nan's feet with Bran and Robb and Arya.\n\nYet Lord Commander Mormont gave a snort. \"If Ben Stark had come under Wildling attack a half day's ride from Castle Black, he would have returned for more men, chased the killers through all seven hells and brought me back their heads.\""
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"value": "\"Unless he was slain as well,\" Ser Jaremy insisted.\n\nThe words hurt, even now. It had been so long, it seemed folly to cling to the hope that Ben Stark was still alive, but Jon Snow was nothing if not stubborn.\n\n\"It has been close on half a year since Benjen left us, my lord,\" Ser Jaremy went on. \"The forest is vast. The Wildlings might have fallen on him anywhere. I'd wager these two were the last survivors of his party, on their way back to us... but the enemy caught them before they could reach the safety of the Wall. The corpses are still fresh, these men cannot have been dead more than a day...\"\n\n\"NO,\" Samwell Tarly squeaked.\n\nJon was startled. Sam's nervous, high-pitched voice was the last he would have expected to hear. The fat boy was frightened of the officers, and Ser Jaremy was not known for his patience.\n\n\"I did not ask for your views, boy,\" Rykker said coldly.\n\n\"Let him speak, ser,\" Jon blurted.\n\nMormont's eyes flicked from Sam to Jon and back again. \"If the lad has something to say, I'll hear him out. Come closer, boy. We can't see you behind those horses.\"\n\nSam edged past Jon and the garrons, sweating profusely. \"My lord, it... it can't be a day or... look... the blood...\"\n\n\"Yes?\" Mormont growled impatiently. \"Blood, what of it?\"\n\n\"He soils his smallclothes at the sight of it,\" Chett shouted out, and the rangers laughed.\n\nSam mopped at the sweat on his brow. \"You... you can see where Ghost... Jon's direwolf... you can see where he tore off that man's hand, and yet... the stump hasn't bled, look...\" He waved a hand. \"My father... L-lord Randyll, he, he made me watch him dress animals sometimes, when... after...\" Sam shook his head from side to side, his chins quivering. Now that he had looked at the bodies, he could not seem to look away. \"Afresh kill... the blood would still flow, my lords. Later... later it would be clotted, like a... a jelly, thick and... and...\" He looked as though he was going to be sick. \"This man... look at the wrist, it's all... crusty... dry... like...\""
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"value": "Jon saw at once what Sam meant. He could seethe torn veins in the dead man's wrist, iron worms in the pale flesh. His blood was a black dust. Yet Jaremy Rykker was unconvinced. \"If they'd been dead much longer than a day, they'd be ripe by now, boy. They don't even smell.\"\n\nDywen, the gnarled old forester who liked to boast that he could smell snow coming on, sidled closer to the corpses and took a whiff. \"Well, they're no pansy flowers, but... m'lord has the truth of it. There's no corpse stink.\"\n\n\"They... they aren't rotting.\" Sam pointed, his fat finger shaking only a little. \"Look, there's... there's no maggots or... or... worms or anything... they've been lying herein the woods, but they... they haven't been chewed or eaten by animals... only Ghost... otherwise they're... they're...\"\n\n\"Untouched,\" Jon said softly. \"And Ghost is different. The dogs and the horses won't go near them.\"\n\nThe rangers exchanged glances; they could see it was true, every man of them. Mormont frowned, glancing from the corpses to the dogs. \"Chett, bring the hounds closer.\"\n\nChett tried, cursing, yanking on the leashes, giving one animal a lick of his boot. Most of the dogs just whimpered and planted their feet. He tried dragging one. The bitch resisted, growling and squirming as if to escape her collar. Finally she lunged at him. Chett dropped the leash and stumbled backward. The dog leapt over him and bounded off into the trees.\n\n\"This... this is all wrong,\" Sam Tarly said earnestly. \"The blood... there's bloodstains on their clothes, and... and their flesh, dry and hard, but... there's none on the ground, or... anywhere. With those... those... those...\" Sam made himself swallow, took a deep breath. \"With those wounds... terrible wounds... there should be blood allover. Shouldn't there?\""
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"value": "Dywen sucked at his wooden teeth. \"Might be they didn't die here. Might be someone brought'em and left \"em for us. A warning, as like.\" The old forester peered down suspiciously. \"And might be I'm a fool, but I don't know that Othor never had no blue eyes afore.\"\n\nSer Jaremy looked startled. \"Neither did Flowers,\" he blurted, turning to stare at the dead man.\n\nA silence fell over the wood. Fora moment all they heard was Sam's heavy breathing and the wet sound of Dywen sucking on his teeth. Jon squatted beside Ghost.\n\n\"Burn them,\" someone whispered. One of the rangers; Jon could not have said who. \"Yes, burn them,\" a second voice urged.\n\nThe Old Bear gave a stubborn shake of his head. \"Not yet. I want Maester Aemon to have a look at them. We'll bring them back to the Wall.\"\n\nSome commands are more easily given than obeyed. They wrapped the dead men in cloaks, but when Hake and Dywen tried to tie one onto a horse, the animal went mad, screaming and rearing, lashing outwith its hooves, even biting at Ketter when he ran to help. The rangers had no better luck with the other garrons; not even the most placid wanted any part of these burdens. In the end they were forced to hack off branches and fashion crude slings to carry the corpses back on foot. It was well past midday by the time they started back.\n\n\"I will have these woods searched,\" Mormont commanded Ser Jaremy as they set out. \"Every tree, every rock, every bush, and every foot of muddy ground within ten leagues of here. Use all the men you have, and if you do not have enough, borrow hunters and foresters from the stewards. If Ben and the others are out here, dead or alive, I will have them found. And if there is anyone else in these woods, I will know of it. You are to track them and take them, alive if possible. Is that understood?\""
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"value": "\"It is, my lord,\" Ser Jaremy said. \"It will be done.\"\n\nAfter that, Mormont rode in silence, brooding. Jon followed close behind him; as the Lord Commander's steward, that was his place. The day was grey, damp, overcast, the sort of day that made you wish for rain. No wind stirred the wood; the air hung humid and heavy, and Jon's clothes clung to his skin. It was warm. Too warm. The Wall was weeping copiously, had been weeping for days, and sometimes Jon even imagined it was shrinking.\n\nThe old men called this weather spirit summer, and said it meant the season was giving up its ghosts at last. After this the cold would come, they warned, and along summer always meant along winter. This summer had lasted ten years. Jon had been a babe in arms when it began.\n\nGhost ran with them fora time and then vanished among the trees. Without the direwolf, Jon felt almost naked. He found himself glancing at every shadow with unease. Unbidden, he thought back on the tales that Old Nan used to tell them, when he was a boy at Winterfell. He could almost hear her voice again, and the click-click-click of her needles. In that darkness, the Others came riding, she used to say, dropping her voice lower and lower. Cold and dead they were, and they hated iron and fire and the touch of the sun, and every living creature with hot blood in its veins. Holdfasts and cities and kingdoms of men all fell before them, as they moved south on pale dead horses, leading hosts of the slain. They fed their dead servants on the flesh of human children...\n\nWhen he caught his first glimpse of the Wall looming above the tops of an ancient gnarled oak, Jon was vastly relieved. Mormont reined up suddenly and turned in his saddle. \"Tarly,\" he barked, \"come here.\""
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"value": "Jon saw the start of fright on Sam's face as he lumbered upon his mare; doubtless he thought he was in trouble. \"You're fat but you're not stupid, boy,\" the Old Bear said gruffly. \"You did well back there. And you, Snow.\"\n\nSam blushed a vivid crimson and tripped over his own tongue as he tried to stammer out a courtesy. Jon had to smile.\n\nWhen they emerged from under the trees, Mormont spurred his tough little garron to a trot. Ghost came streaking out from the woods to meet them, licking his chops, his muzzle red from prey. High above, the men on the Wall saw the column approaching. Jon heard the deep, throaty call of the watchman's great horn, calling out across the miles; a single long blast that shuddered through the trees and echoed off the ice.\n\nUUUUUUUoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.\n\nThe sound faded slowly to silence. One blast meant rangers returning, and Jon thought, I was a ranger for one day, at least. Whatever may come, they cannot take that away from me.\n\nBowen Marsh was waiting at the first gate as they led their garrons through the icy tunnel. The Lord Steward was red-faced and agitated. \"My lord,\" he blurted at Mormont as he swung open the iron bars, \"there's been a bird, you must come at once.\"\n\n\"What is it, man?\" Mormont said gruffly.\n\nCuriously, Marsh glanced at Jon before he answered. \"Maester Aemon has the letter. He's waiting in your solar.\"\n\n\"Very well. Jon, see to my horse, and tell Ser Jaremy to put the dead men in a storeroom until the maester is ready for them.\" Mormont strode away grumbling."
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"value": "As they led their horses back to the stable, Jon was uncomfortably aware that people were watching him. Ser Alliser Thorne was drilling his boys in the yard, but he broke off to stare at Jon, a faint half smile on his lips. One-armed Donal Noye stood in the door of the armory. \"The gods be with you, Snow,\" he called out.\n\nSomething's wrong, Jon thought. Something's very wrong.\n\nThe dead men were carried to one of the storerooms along the base of the Wall, a dark cold cell chiseled from the ice and used to keep meat and grain and sometimes even beer. Jon saw that Mormont's horse was fed and watered and groomed before he took care of his own. Afterward he sought out his friends. Grenn and Toad were on watch, but he found Pyp in the common hall. \"What's happened?\" he asked.\n\nPyp lowered his voice. \"The king's dead.\"\n\nJon was stunned. Robert Baratheon had looked old and fat when he visited Winterfell, yet he'd seemed hale enough, and there'd been no talk of illness. \"How can you know?\"\n\n\"One of the guards overheard Clydas reading the letter to Maester Aemon.\" Pyp leaned close. \"Jon, I'm sorry. He was your father's friend, wasn't he?\"\n\n\"They were as close as brothers, once.\" Jon wondered if Joffrey would keep his father as the King's Hand. It did not seem likely. That might mean Lord Eddard would return to Winterfell, and his sisters as well. He might even be allowed to visit them, with Lord Mormont's permission. It would be good to see Arya's grin again and to talk with his father. I will ask him about my mother, he resolved. I am a man now, it is past time he told me. Even if she was a whore, I don't care, I want to know."
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"value": "\"I heard Hake say the dead men were your uncle's,\" Pyp said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Jon replied. \"Two of the six he took with him. They'd been dead along time, only... the bodies are queer.\"\n\n\"Queer?\" Pyp was all curiosity. \"How queer?\"\n\n\"Sam will tell you.\" Jon did not want to talk of it. \"I should see if the Old Bear has need of me.\"\n\nHe walked to the Lord Commander's Tower alone, with a curious sense of apprehension. The brothers on guard eyed him solemnly as he approached. \"The Old Bear's in his solar,\" one of them announced. \"He was asking for you.\"\n\nJon nodded. He should have come straight from the stable. He climbed the tower steps briskly. He wants wine or afire in his hearth, that's all, he told himself.\n\nWhen he entered the solar, Mormont's raven screamed at him. \"Corn!\" the bird shrieked. \"Corn! Corn! Corn!\"\n\n\"Don't you believe it, I just fed him,\" the Old Bear growled. He was seated by the window, reading a letter. \"Bring me a cup of wine, and pour one for yourself.\"\n\n\"For myself, my lord?\"\n\nMormont lifted his eyes from the letter to stare at Jon. There was pity in that look; he could taste it. \"You heard me.\"\n\nJon poured with exaggerated care, vaguely aware that he was drawing out the act. When the cups were filled, he would have no choice but to face whatever was in that letter. Yet all too soon, they were filled. \"Sit, boy,\" Mormont commanded him. \"Drink.\"\n\nJon remained standing. \"It's my father, isn't it?\""
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"value": "The Old Bear tapped the letter with a finger. \"Your father and the king,\" he rumbled. \"I won't lie to you, it's grievous news. I never thought to see another king, not at my age, with Robert half my years and strong as a bull.\" He took a gulp of wine. \"They say the king loved to hunt. The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember that. My son loved that young wife of his. Vain woman. If not for her, he would never have thought to sell those poachers.\"\n\nJon could scarcely follow what he was saying. \"My lord, I don't understand. What's happened to my father?\"\n\n\"I told you to sit,\" Mormont grumbled. \"Sit,\" the raven screamed. \"And have a drink, damn you. That's a command, Snow.\"\n\nJon sat, and took a sip of wine.\n\n\"Lord Eddard has been imprisoned. He is charged with treason. It is said he plotted with Robert's brothers to deny the throne to Prince Joffrey.\"\n\n\"No,\" Jon said at once. \"That couldn't be. My father would never betray the king!\"\n\n\"Be that as it may,\" said Mormont. \"It is not for me to say. Nor for you.\"\n\n\"But it's a lie,\" Jon insisted. How could they think his father was a traitor, had they all gone mad? Lord Eddard Stark would never dishonor himself... would he?\n\nHe fathered a bastard, a small voice whispered inside him. Where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of her? He will not even speak her name.\n\n\"My lord, what will happen to him? Will they kill him?\"\n\n\"As to that, I cannot say, lad. I mean to send a letter. I knew some of the king's councillors in my youth. Old Pycelle, Lord Stannis, Ser Barristan... Whatever your father has done, or hasn't done, he is a great lord. He must be allowed to take the black and join us here. Gods knows, we need men of Lord Eddard's ability.\""
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"value": "Jon knew that other men accused of treason had been allowed to redeem their honor on the Wall in days past. Why not Lord Eddard? His father here. That was a strange thought, and strangely uncomfortable. It would be a monstrous injustice to strip him of Winterfell and force him to take the black, and yet if it meant his life...\n\nAnd would Joffrey allow it? He remembered the prince at Winterfell, the way he'd mocked Robb and Ser Rodrik in the yard. Jon himself he had scarcely even noticed; bastards were beneath even his contempt. \"My lord, will the king listen to you?\"\n\nThe Old Bear shrugged. \"A boy king... I imagine he'll listen to his mother. A pity the dwarf isn't with them. He's the lad's uncle, and he saw our need when he visited us. It was a bad thing, your lady mother taking him captive-\"\n\n\"Lady Stark is not my mother,\" Jon reminded him sharply. Tyrion Lannister had been a friend to him. If Lord Eddard was killed, she would be as much to blame as the queen. \"My lord, what of my sisters? Arya and Sansa, they were with my father, do you know-\"\n\n\"Pycelle makes no mention of them, but doubtless they'll be treated gently. I will ask about them when I write.\" Mormont shook his head. \"This could not have happened at a worse time. If ever the realm needed a strong king... there are dark days and cold nights ahead, I feel it in my bones...\" He gave Jon along shrewd look. \"I hope you are not thinking of doing anything stupid, boy.\"\n\nHe's my father, Jon wanted to say, but he knew that Mormont would not want to hear it. His throat was dry. He made himself take another sip of wine."
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"value": "\"Your duty is here now,\" the Lord Commander reminded him. \"Your old life ended when you took the black.\" His bird made a raucous echo. \"Black.\" Mormont took no notice. \"Whatever they do in King's Landing is none of our concern.\" When Jon did not answer, the old man finished his wine and said, \"You're free to go. I'll have no further need of you today. On the morrow you can help me write that letter.\"\n\nJon did not remember standing or leaving the solar. The next he knew, he was descending the tower steps, thinking, This is my father, my sisters, how can it be none of my concern.\n\nOutside, one of the guards looked at him and said, \"Be strong, boy. The gods are cruel.\"\n\nThey know, Jon realized. \"My father is no traitor,\" he said hoarsely. Even the words stuck in his throat, as if to choke him. The wind was rising, and it seemed colder in the yard than it had when he'd gone in. Spirit summer was drawing to an end.\n\nThe rest of the afternoon passed as if in a dream. Jon could not have said where he walked, what he did, who he spoke with. Ghost was with him, he knew that much. The silent presence of the direwolf gave him comfort. The girls do not even have that much, he thought. Their wolves might have kept them safe, but Lady is dead and Nymeria's lost, they're all alone.\n\nA north wind had begun to blow by the time the sun went down. Jon could hear it skirling against the Wall and over the icy battlements as he went to the common hall for the evening meal. Hobb had cooked up a venison stew, thick with barley, onions, and carrots. When he spooned an extra portion onto Jon's plate and gave him the crusty heel of the bread, he knew what it meant. He knows. He looked around the hall, saw heads turn quickly, eyes politely averted. They all know."
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"value": "His friends rallied to him. \"We asked the septon to light a candle for your father,\" Matthar told him. \"It's a lie, we all know it's a lie, even Grenn knows it's a lie,\" Pyp chimed in. Grenn nodded, and Sam clasped Jon's hand, \"You're my brother now, so he's my father too,\" the fat boy said. \"If you want to go out to the weirwoods and pray to the old gods, I'll go with you.\"\n\nThe weirwoods were beyond the Wall, yet he knew Sam meant what he said. They are my brothers, he thought. As much as Robb and Bran and Rickon...\n\nAnd then he heard the laughter, sharp and cruel as a whip, and the voice of Ser Alliser Thorne. \"Not only a bastard, but a traitor's bastard,\" he was telling the men around him.\n\nIn the blink of an eye, Jon had vaulted onto the table, dagger in his hand. Pyp made a grab for him, but he wrenched his leg away, and then he was sprinting down the table and kicking the bowl from Ser Alliser's hand. Stew went flying everywhere, spattering the brothers. Thorne recoiled. People were shouting, but Jon Snow did not hear them. He lunged at Ser Alliser's face with the dagger, slashing at those cold onyx eyes, but Sam threw himself between them and before Jon could get around him, Pyp was on his back clinging like a monkey, and Grenn was grabbing his arm while Toad wrenched the knife from his fingers.\n\nLater, much later, after they had marched him back to his sleeping cell, Mormont came down to see him, raven on his shoulder. \"I told you not to do anything stupid, boy,\" the Old Bear said. \"Boy,\" the bird chorused. Mormont shook his head, disgusted. \"And to think I had high hopes for you.\""
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"value": "They took his knife and his sword and told him he was not to leave his cell until the high officers met to decide what was to be done with him. And then they placed a guard outside his door to make certain he obeyed. His friends were not allowed to see him, but the Old Bear did relent and permit him Ghost, so he was not utterly alone.\n\n\"My father is no traitor,\" he told the direwolf when the rest had gone. Ghost looked at him in silence. Jon slumped against the wall, hands around his knees, and stared at the candle on the table beside his narrow bed. The flame flickered and swayed, the shadows moved around him, the room seemed to grow darker and colder. I will not sleep tonight, Jon thought.\n\nYet he must have dozed. When he woke, his legs were stiff and cramped and the candle had long since burned out. Ghost stood on his hind legs, scrabbling at the door. Jon was startled to see how tall he'd grown. \"Ghost, what is it?\" he called softly. The direwolf turned his head and looked down at him, baring his fangs in a silent snarl. Has he gone mad? Jon wondered. \"It's me, Ghost,\" he murmured, trying not to sound afraid. Yet he was trembling, violently. When had it gotten so cold?\n\nGhost backed away from the door. There were deep gouges where he'd raked the wood. Jon watched him with mounting disquiet. \"There's someone out there, isn't there?\" he whispered. Crouching, the direwolf crept backward, white fur rising on the back of his neck. The guard, he thought, they left a man to guard my door, Ghost smells him through the door, that's all it is."
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"value": "Slowly, Jon pushed himself to his feet. He was shivering uncontrollably, wishing he still had a sword. Three quicksteps brought him to the door. He grabbed the handle and pulled it inward. The creak of the hinges almost made him jump.\n\nHis guard was sprawled bonelessly across the narrow steps, looking up at him. Looking up at him, even though he was lying on his stomach. His head had been twisted completely around.\n\nIt can't be, Jon told himself. This is the Lord Commander's Tower, it's guarded day and night, this couldn't happen, it's a dream, I'm having a nightmare.\n\nGhost slid past him, out the door. The wolf started up the steps, stopped, looked back at Jon. That was when he heard it; the soft scrape of a boot on stone, the sound of a latch turning. The sounds came from above. From the Lord Commander's chambers.\n\nA nightmare this might be, yet it was no dream.\n\nThe guard's sword was in its sheath. Jon knelt and worked it free. The heft of steel in his fist made him bolder. He moved up the steps, Ghost padding silently before him. Shadows lurked in every turn of the stair. Jon crept up warily, probing any suspicious darkness with the point of his sword.\n\nSuddenly he heard the shriek of Mormont's raven. \"Corn,\" the bird was screaming. \"Corn, corn, corn, corn, corn, corn.\" Ghost bounded ahead, and Jon came scrambling after. The door to Mormont's solar was wide open. The direwolf plunged through. Jon stopped in the doorway, blade in hand, giving his eyes a moment to adjust. Heavy drapes had been pulled across the windows, and the darkness was black as ink. \"Who's there?\" he called out."
},
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"value": "Then he saw it, a shadow in the shadows, sliding toward the inner door that led to Mormont's sleeping cell, a man-shape all in black, cloaked and hooded..."
},
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"value": "but beneath the hood, its eyes shone with an icy blue radiance...\n\nGhost leapt. Man and wolf went down together with neither scream nor snarl, rolling, smashing into a chair, knocking over a table laden with papers. Mormont's raven was flapping overhead, screaming, \"Corn, corn, corn, corn.\" Jon felt as blind as Maester Aemon. Keeping the wall to his back, he slid toward the window and ripped down the curtain. Moonlight flooded the solar. He glimpsed black hands buried in white fur, swollen dark fingers tightening around his direwolf's throat. Ghost was twisting and snapping, legs flailing in the air, but he could not break free.\n\nJon had no time to be afraid. He threw himself forward, shouting, bringing down the longsword with all his weight behind it. Steel sheared through sleeve and skin and bone, yet the sound was wrong somehow. The smell that engulfed him was so queer and cold he almost gagged. He saw arm and hand on the floor, black fingers wriggling in a pool of moonlight. Ghost wrenched free of the other hand and crept away, red tongue lolling from his mouth.\n\nThe hooded man lifted his pale moon face, and Jon slashed at it without hesitation. The sword laid the intruder open to the bone, taking off half his nose and opening a gash cheek to cheek under those eyes, eyes, eyes like blue stars burning. Jon knew that face. Othor, he thought, reeling back. Gods, he's dead, he's dead, I saw him dead.\n\nHe felt something scrabble at his ankle. Black fingers clawed at his calf. The arm was crawling up his leg, ripping at wool and flesh. Shouting with revulsion, Jon pried the fingers off his leg with the point of his sword and flipped the thing away. It lay writhing, fingers opening and closing."
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The corpse lurched forward. There was no blood. One-armed, face cut near in half, it seemed to feel nothing. Jon held the longsword before him. \"Stay away!\" he commanded, his voice gone shrill. \"Corn,\" screamed the raven, \"corn, corn.\" The severed arm was wriggling out of its torn sleeve, a pale snake with a black five-fingered head. Ghost pounced and got it between his teeth. Finger bones crunched. Jon hacked at the corpse's neck, felt the steel bite deep and hard.\n\nDead Othor slammed into him, knocking him off his feet.\n\nJon's breath went out of him as the fallen table caught him between his shoulder blades. The sword, where was the sword? He'd lost the damned sword! When he opened his mouth to scream, the wight jammed its black corpse fingers into Jon's mouth. Gagging, he tried to shove it off, but the dead man was too heavy. Its hand forced itself farther down his throat, icy cold, choking him. Its face was against his own, filling the world. Frost covered its eyes, sparkling blue. Jon raked cold flesh with his nails and kicked at the thing's legs. He tried to bite, tried to punch, tried to breathe...\n\nAnd suddenly the corpse's weight was gone, its fingers ripped from his throat. It was all Jon could do to rollover, retching and shaking. Ghost had it again. He watched as the direwolf buried his teeth in the wight's gut and began to rip and tear. He watched, only half conscious, fora long moment before he finally remembered to look for his sword...\n\n... and saw Lord Mormont, naked and groggy from sleep, standing in the doorway with an oil lamp in hand. Gnawed and fingerless, the arm thrashed on the floor, wriggling toward him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon tried to shout, but his voice was gone. Staggering to his feet, he kicked the arm away and snatched the lamp from the Old Bear's fingers. The flame flickered and almost died. \"Burn!\" the raven cawed. \"Burn, burn, burn!\"\n\nSpinning, Jon saw the drapes he'd ripped from the window. He flung the lamp into the puddled cloth with both hands. Metal crunched, glass shattered, oil spewed, and the hangings went up in a great whoosh of flame. The heat of it on his face was sweeter than any kiss Jon had ever known. \"Ghost!\" he shouted.\n\nThe direwolf wrenched free and came to him as the wight struggled to rise, dark snakes spilling from the great wound in its belly. Jon plunged his hand into the flames, grabbed a fistful of the burning drapes, and whipped them at the dead man. Let it burn, he prayed as the cloth smothered the corpse, gods, please, please, let it burn."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Karstarks came in on a cold windy morning, bringing three hundred horsemen and near two thousand foot from their castle at Karhold. The steel points of their pikes winked in the pale sunlight as the column approached. A man went before them, pounding out a slow, deep-throated marching rhythm on a drum that was bigger than he was, boom, boom, boom.\n\nBran watched them come from a guard turret atop the outer wall, peering through Maester Luwin's bronze far-eye while perched on Hodor's shoulders. Lord Rickard himself led them, his sons Harrion and Eddard and Torrhen riding beside him beneath night-black banners emblazoned with the white sunburst of their House. Old Nan said they had Stark blood in them, going back hundreds of years, but they did not look like Starks to Bran. They were big men, and fierce, faces covered with thick beards, hair worn loose past the shoulders. Their cloaks were made of skins, the pelts of bear and seal and wolf.\n\nThey were the last, he knew. The other lords were already here, with their hosts. Bran yearned to ride out among them, to seethe winter houses full to bursting, the jostling crowds in the market square every morning, the streets rutted and torn by wheel and hoof. But Robb had forbidden him to leave the castle. \"We have no men to spare to guard you,\" his brother had explained.\n\n\"I'll take Summer,\" Bran argued.\n\n\"Don't act the boy with me, Bran,\" Robb said. \"You know better than that. Only two days ago one of Lord Bolton's men knifed one of Lord Cerwyn's at the Smoking Log. Our lady mother would skin me fora pelt if I let you put yourself at risk.\" He was using the voice of Robb the Lord when he said it; Bran knew that meant there was no appeal."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was because of what had happened in the wolfswood, he knew. The memory still gave him bad dreams. He had been as helpless as a baby, no more able to defend himself than Rickon would have been. Less, even... Rickon would have kicked them, at the least. It shamed him. He was only a few years younger than Robb; if his brother was almost a man grown, so was he. He should have been able to protect himself.\n\nA year ago, before, he would have visited the town even if it meant climbing over the walls by himself. In those days he could rundown stairs, get on and off his pony by himself, and wield a wooden sword good enough to knock Prince Tommen in the dirt. Now he could only watch, peering out through Maester Luwin's lens tube. The maester had taught him all the banners: the mailed fist of the Glovers, silver on scarlet; Lady Mormont's black bear; the hideous flayed man that went before Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort; a bull moose for the Hornwoods; a battle-axe for the Cerwyns; three sentinel trees for the Tallharts; and the fearsome sigil of House Umber, a roaring giant in shattered chains.\n\nAnd soon enough he learned the faces too, when the lords and their sons and knights retainer came to Winterfell to feast. Even the Great Hall was not large enough to seat all of them at once, so Robb hosted each of the principal bannermen in turn. Bran was always given the place of honor at his brother's right hand. Some of the lords bannermen gave him queer hard stares as he sat there, as if they wondered by what right a green boy should be placed above them, and him a cripple too."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How many is it now?\" Bran asked Maester Luwin as Lord Karstark and his sons rode through the gates in the outer wall.\n\n\"Twelve thousand men, or near enough as makes no matter.\"\n\n\"How many knights?\"\n\n\"Few enough,\" the maester said with a touch of impatience. \"To be a knight, you must stand your vigil in a sept, and be anointed with the seven oils to consecrate your vows. In the north, only a few of the great houses worship the Seven. The rest honor the old gods, and name no knights... but those lords and their sons and sworn swords are no less fierce or loyal or honorable. A man's worth is not marked by a ser before his name. As I have told you a hundred times before.\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Bran, \"how many knights?\"\n\nMaester Luwin sighed. \"Three hundred, perhaps four... among three thousand armored lances who are not knights.\"\n\n\"Lord Karstark is the last,\" Bran said thoughtfully. \"Robb will feast him tonight.\"\n\n\"No doubt he will.\"\n\n\"How long before... before they go?\"\n\n\"He must march soon, or not at all,\" Maester Luwin said. \"The winter town is full to bursting, and this army of his will eat the countryside clean if it camps here much longer. Others are waiting to join him all along the kingsroad, barrow knights and crannogmen and the Lords Manderly and Flint. The fighting has begun in the riverlands, and your brother has many leagues to go.\"\n\n\"I know.\" Bran felt as miserable as he sounded. He handed the bronze tube back to the maester, and noticed how thin Luwin's hair had grown on top. He could seethe pink of scalp showing through. It felt queer to look down on him this way, when he'd spent his whole life looking up at him, but when you sat on Hodor's back you looked down on everyone. \"I don't want to watch anymore. Hodor, take me back to the keep.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hodor,\" said Hodor.\n\nMaester Luwin tucked the tube up his sleeve. \"Bran, your lord brother will not have time to see you now. He must greet Lord Karstark and his sons and make them welcome.\"\n\n\"I won't trouble Robb. I want to visit the godswood.\" He put his hand on Hodor's shoulder. \"Hodor.\"\n\nA series of chisel-cut handholds made a ladder in the granite of the tower's inner wall. Hodor hummed tunelessly as he went down hand underhand, Bran bouncing against his back in the wicker seat that Maester Luwin had fashioned for him. Luwin had gotten the idea from the baskets the women used to carry firewood on their backs; after that it had been a simple matter of cutting legholes and attaching some new straps to spread Bran's weight more evenly. It was not as good as riding Dancer, but there were places Dancer could not go, and this did not shame Bran the way it did when Hodor carried him in his arms like a baby. Hodor seemed to like it too, though with Hodor it was hard to tell. The only tricky part was doors. Sometimes Hodor forgot that he had Bran on his back, and that could be painful when he went through a door.\n\nFor near a fortnight there had been so many comings and goings that Robb ordered both portcullises kept up and the drawbridge down between them, even in the dead of night. Along column of armored lancers was crossing the moat between the walls when Bran emerged from the tower; Karstark men, following their lords into the castle. They wore black iron halfhelms and black woolen cloaks patterned with the white sunburst. Hodor trotted along beside them, smiling to himself, his boots thudding against the wood of the drawbridge. The riders gave them queer looks as they went by, and once Bran heard someone guffaw. He refused to let it trouble him. \"Men will look at you,\" Maester Luwin had warned him the first time they had strapped the wicker basket around Hodor's chest. \"They will look, and they will talk, and some will mock you.\" Let them mock, Bran thought. No one mocked him in his bedchamber, but he would not live his life in bed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "As they passed beneath the gatehouse portcullis, Bran put two fingers into his mouth and whistled."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Summer came loping across the yard. Suddenly the Karstark lancers were fighting for control, as their horses rolled their eyes and whickered in dismay. One stallion reared, screaming, his rider cursing and hanging on desperately. The scent of the direwolves sent horses into a frenzy of fear if they were not accustomed to it, but they'd quiet soon enough once Summer was gone. \"The godswood,\" Bran reminded Hodor.\n\nEven Winterfell itself was crowded. The yard rang to the sound of sword and axe, the rumble of wagons, and the barking of dogs. The armory doors were open, and Bran glimpsed Mikken at his forge, his hammer ringing as sweat dripped off his bare chest. Bran had never seen as many strangers in all his years, not even when King Robert had come to visit Father.\n\nHe tried not to flinch as Hodor ducked through a low door. They walked down along dim hallway, Summer padding easily beside them. The wolf glanced up from time to time, eyes smoldering like liquid gold. Bran would have liked to touch him, but he was riding too high for his hand to reach.\n\nThe godswood was an island of peace in the sea of chaos that Winterfell had become. Hodor made his way through the dense stands of oak and ironwood and sentinels, to the still pool beside the heart tree. He stopped under the gnarled limbs of the weirwood, humming. Bran reached up over his head and pulled himself out of his seat, drawing the dead weight of his legs up through the holes in the wicker basket. He hung fora moment, dangling, the dark red leaves brushing against his face, until Hodor lifted him and lowered him to the smooth stone beside the water. \"I want to be by myself fora while,\" he said. \"You go soak. Go to the pools.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hodor.\" Hodor stomped through the trees and vanished. Across the godswood, beneath the windows of the Guest House, an underground hot spring fed three small ponds. Steam rose from the water day and night, and the wall that loomed above was thick with moss. Hodor hated cold water, and would fight like a treed wildcat when threatened with soap, but he would happily immerse himself in the hottest pool and sit for hours, giving aloud burp to echo the spring whenever a bubble rose from the murky green depths to break upon the surface.\n\nSummer lapped at the water and settled down at Bran's side. He rubbed the wolf under the jaw, and fora moment boy and beast both felt at peace. Bran had always liked the godswood, even before, but of late he found himself drawn to it more and more. Even the heart tree no longer scared him the way it used to. The deep red eyes carved into the pale trunk still watched him, yet somehow he took comfort from that now. The gods were looking over him, he told himself; the old gods, gods of the Starks and the First Men and the children of the forest, his father's gods. He felt safe in their sight, and the deep silence of the trees helped him think. Bran had been thinking a lot since his fall; thinking, and dreaming, and talking with the gods.\n\n\"Please make it so Robb won't go away,\" he prayed softly. He moved his hand through the cold water, sending ripples across the pool. \"Please make him stay. Or if he has to go, bring him home safe, with Mother and Father and the girls. And make it... make it so Rickon understands.\"\n\nHis baby brother had been wild as a winter storm since he learned Robb was riding off to war, weeping and angry by turns. He'd refused to eat, cried and screamed for most of a night, even punched Old Nan when she tried to sing him to sleep, and the next day he'd vanished. Robb had set half the castle searching for him, and when at last they'd found him down in the crypts, Rickon had slashed at them with a rusted iron sword he'd snatched from a dead king's hand, and Shaggydog had come slavering out of the darkness like a green-eyed demon. The wolf was near as wild as Rickon; he'd bitten Gage on the arm and torn a chunk of flesh from Mikken's thigh. It had taken Robb himself and Grey Wind to bring him to bay. Farlen had the black wolf chained up in the kennels now, and Rickon cried all the more for being without him."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 56"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hodor.\" Hodor stomped through the trees and vanished. Across the godswood, beneath the windows of the Guest House, an underground hot spring fed three small ponds. Steam rose from the water day and night, and the wall that loomed above was thick with moss. Hodor hated cold water, and would fight like a treed wildcat when threatened with soap, but he would happily immerse himself in the hottest pool and sit for hours, giving aloud burp to echo the spring whenever a bubble rose from the murky green depths to break upon the surface.\n\nSummer lapped at the water and settled down at Bran's side. He rubbed the wolf under the jaw, and fora moment boy and beast both felt at peace. Bran had always liked the godswood, even before, but of late he found himself drawn to it more and more. Even the heart tree no longer scared him the way it used to. The deep red eyes carved into the pale trunk still watched him, yet somehow he took comfort from that now. The gods were looking over him, he told himself; the old gods, gods of the Starks and the First Men and the children of the forest, his father's gods. He felt safe in their sight, and the deep silence of the trees helped him think. Bran had been thinking a lot since his fall; thinking, and dreaming, and talking with the gods.\n\n\"Please make it so Robb won't go away,\" he prayed softly. He moved his hand through the cold water, sending ripples across the pool. \"Please make him stay. Or if he has to go, bring him home safe, with Mother and Father and the girls. And make it... make it so Rickon understands.\"\n\nHis baby brother had been wild as a winter storm since he learned Robb was riding off to war, weeping and angry by turns. He'd refused to eat, cried and screamed for most of a night, even punched Old Nan when she tried to sing him to sleep, and the next day he'd vanished. Robb had set half the castle searching for him, and when at last they'd found him down in the crypts, Rickon had slashed at them with a rusted iron sword he'd snatched from a dead king's hand, and Shaggydog had come slavering out of the darkness like a green-eyed demon. The wolf was near as wild as Rickon; he'd bitten Gage on the arm and torn a chunk of flesh from Mikken's thigh. It had taken Robb himself and Grey Wind to bring him to bay. Farlen had the black wolf chained up in the kennels now, and Rickon cried all the more for being without him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Maester Luwin counseled Robb to remain at Winterfell, and Bran pleaded with him too, for his own sake as much as Rickon's, but his brother only shook his head stubbornly and said, \"I don't want to go. I have to.\"\n\nIt was only half a lie. Someone had to go, to hold the Neck and help the Tullys against the Lannisters, Bran could understand that, but it did not have to be Robb. His brother might have given the command to Hal Mollen or Theon Greyjoy, or to one of his lords bannermen. Maester Luwin urged him to do just that, but Robb would not hear of it. \"My lord father would never have sent men off to die while he huddled like a craven behind the walls of Winterfell,\" he said, all Robb the Lord.\n\nRobb seemed half a stranger to Bran now, transformed, a lord in truth, though he had not yet seen his sixteenth name day. Even their father's bannermen seemed to sense it. Many tried to test him, each in his own way. Roose Bolton and Robett Glover both demanded the honor of battle command, the first brusquely, the second with a smile and a jest. Stout, grey-haired Maege Mormont, dressed in mail like a man, told Robb bluntly that he was young enough to be her grandson, and had no business giving her commands... but as it happened, she had a granddaughter she would be willing to have him marry. Soft-spoken Lord Cerwyn had actually brought his daughter with him, a plump, homely maid of thirty years who sat at her father's left hand and never lifted her eyes from her plate. Jovial Lord Hornwood had no daughters, but he did bring gifts, a horse one day, a haunch of venison the next, a silver-chased hunting horn the day after, and he asked nothing in return... nothing but a certain holdfast taken from his grandfather, and hunting rights north of a certain ridge, and leave to dam the White Knife, if it please the lord."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robb answered each of them with cool courtesy, much as Father might have, and somehow he bent them to his will.\n\nAnd when Lord Umber, who was called the Greatjon by his men and stood as tall as Hodor and twice as wide, threatened to take his forces home if he was placed behind the Hornwoods or the Cerwyns in the order of march, Robb told him he was welcome to do so. \"And when we are done with the Lannisters,\" he promised, scratching Grey Wind behind the ear, \"we will march back north, root you out of your keep, and hang you for an oathbreaker.\" Cursing, the Greatjon flung a flagon of ale into the fire and bellowed that Robb was so green he must piss grass. When Hallis Mollen moved to restrain him, he knocked him to the floor, kicked over a table, and unsheathed the biggest, ugliest greatsword that Bran had ever seen. All along the benches, his sons and brothers and sworn swords leapt to their feet, grabbing for their steel.\n\nYet Robb only said a quiet word, and in a snarl and the blink of an eye Lord Umber was on his back, his sword spinning on the floor three feet away and his hand dripping blood where Grey Wind had bitten off two fingers. \"My lord father taught me that it was death to bare steel against your liege lord,\" Robb said, \"but doubtless you only meant to cut my meat.\" Bran's bowels went to water as the Greatjon struggled to rise, sucking at the red stumps of fingers... but then, astonishingly, the huge man laughed. \"Your meat,\" he roared, \"is bloody tough.\"\n\nAnd somehow after that the Greatjon became Robb's right hand, his staunchest champion, loudly telling all and sundry that the boy lord was a Stark after all, and they'd damn well better bend their knees if they didn't fancy having them chewed off."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet that very night, his brother came to Bran's bedchamber pale and shaken, after the fires had burned low in the Great Hall. \"I thought he was going to kill me,\" Robb confessed. \"Did you seethe way he threw down Hal, like he was no bigger than Rickon? Gods, I was so scared. And the Greatjon's not the worst of them, only the loudest. Lord Roose never says a word, he only looks at me, and all I can think of is that room they have in the Dreadfort, where the Boltons hang the skins of their enemies.\"\n\n\"That's just one of Old Nan's stories,\" Bran said. A note of doubt crept into his voice. \"Isn't it?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\" He gave a weary shake of his head. \"Lord Cerwyn means to take his daughter south with us. To cook for him, he says. Theon is certain I'll find the girl in my bedroll one night. I wish... I wish Father was here...\"\n\nThat was the one thing they could agree on, Bran and Rickon and Robb the Lord; they all wished Father was here. But Lord Eddard was a thousand leagues away, a captive in some dungeon, a hunted fugitive running for his life, or even dead. No one seemed to know for certain; every traveler told a different tale, each more terrifying than the last. The heads of Father's guardsmen were rotting on the walls of the Red Keep, impaled on spikes. King Robert was dead at Father's hands. The Baratheons had laid siege to King's Landing. Lord Eddard had fled south with the king's wicked brother Renly. Arya and Sansa had been murdered by the Hound. Mother had killed Tyrion the Imp and hung his body from the walls of Riverrun. Lord Tywin Lannister was marching on the Eyrie, burning and slaughtering as he went. One wine-sodden taleteller even claimed that Rhaegar Targaryen had returned from the dead and was marshaling avast host of ancient heroes on Dragonstone to reclaim his father's throne."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When the raven came, bearing a letter marked with Father's own seal and written in Sansa's hand, the cruel truth seemed no less incredible."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bran would never forget the look on Robb's face as he stared at their sister's words. \"She says Father conspired at treason with the king's brothers,\" he read. \"King Robert is dead, and Mother and I are summoned to the Red Keep to swear fealty to Joffrey. She says we must be loyal, and when she marries Joffrey she will plead with him to spare our lord father's life.\" His fingers closed into a fist, crushing Sansa's letter between them. \"And she says nothing of Arya, nothing, not so much as a word. Damn her! What's wrong with the girl?\"\n\nBran felt all cold inside. \"She lost her wolf,\" he said, weakly, remembering the day when four of his father's guardsmen had returned from the south with Lady's bones. Summer and Grey Wind and Shaggydog had begun to howl before they crossed the drawbridge, invoices drawn and desolate. Beneath the shadow of the First Keep was an ancient lichyard, its headstones spotted with pale lichen, where the old Kings of Winter had laid their faithful servants. It was there they buried Lady, while her brothers stalked between the graves like restless shadows. She had gone south, and only her bones had returned.\n\nTheir grandfather, old Lord Rickard, had gone as well, with his son Brandon who was Father's brother, and two hundred of his best men. None had ever returned. And Father had gone south, with Arya and Sansa, and Jory and Hullen and Fat Tom and the rest, and later Mother and Ser Rodrik had gone, and they hadn't comeback either. And now Robb meant to go. Not to King's Landing and not to swear fealty, but to Riverrun, with a sword in his hand. And if their lord father were truly a prisoner, that could mean his death fora certainty. It frightened Bran more than he could say."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If Robb has to go, watch over him,\" Bran entreated the old gods, as they watched him with the heart tree's red eyes, \"and watch over his men, Hal and Quent and the rest, and Lord Umber and Lady Mormont and the other lords. And Theon too, I suppose. Watch them and keep them safe, if it please you, gods. Help them defeat the Lannisters and save Father and bring them home.\"\n\nA faint wind sighed through the godswood and the red leaves stirred and whispered. Summer bared his teeth. \"You hear them, boy?\" a voice asked.\n\nBran lifted his head. Osha stood across the pool, beneath an ancient oak, her face shadowed by leaves. Even in irons, the Wildling moved quiet as a cat. Summer circled the pool, sniffed at her. The tall woman flinched.\n\n\"Summer, tome,\" Bran called. The direwolf took one final sniff, spun, and bounded back. Bran wrapped his arms around him. \"What are you doing here?\" He had not seen Osha since they'd taken her captive in the wolfswood, though he knew she'd been set to working in the kitchens.\n\n\"They are my gods too,\" Osha said. \"Beyond the Wall, they are the only gods.\" Her hair was growing out, brown and shaggy. It made her look more womanly, that and the simple dress of brown roughspun they'd given her when they took her mail and leather. \"Gage lets me have my prayers from time to time, when I feel the need, and I let him do as he likes under my skirt, when he feels the need. It's nothing tome. I like the smell of flour on his hands, and he's gentler than Stiv.\" She gave an awkward bow. \"I'll leave you. There's pots that want scouring.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No, stay,\" Bran commanded her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell me what you meant, about hearing the gods.\"\n\nOsha studied him. \"You asked them and they're answering. Open your ears, listen, you'll hear.\"\n\nBran listened. \"It's only the wind,\" he said after a moment, uncertain. \"The leaves are rustling.\"\n\n\"Who do you think sends the wind, if not the gods?\" She seated herself across the pool from him, clinking faintly as she moved. Mikken had fixed iron manacles to her ankles, with a heavy chain between them; she could walk, so long as she kept her strides small, but there was noway for her to run, or climb, or mount a horse. \"They see you, boy. They hear you talking. That rustling, that's them talking back.\"\n\n\"What are they saying?\"\n\n\"They're sad. Your lord brother will get no help from them, not where he's going. The old gods have no power in the south. The weirwoods there were all cut down, thousands of years ago. How can they watch your brother when they have no eyes?\"\n\nBran had not thought of that. It frightened him. If even the gods could not help his brother, what hope was there? Maybe Osha wasn't hearing them right. He cocked his head and tried to listen again. He thought he could hear the sadness now, but nothing more than that.\n\nThe rustling grew louder. Bran heard muffled footfalls and a low humming, and Hodor came blundering out of the trees, naked and smiling. \"Hodor!\"\n\n\"He must have heard our voices,\" Bran said. \"Hodor, you forgot your clothes.\"\n\n\"Hodor,\" Hodor agreed. He was dripping wet from the neck down, steaming in the chill air. His body was covered with brown hair, thick as a pelt. Between his legs, his manhood swung long and heavy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Osha eyed him with a sour smile."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Now there's a big man,\" she said. \"He has giant's blood in him, or I'm the queen.\"\n\n\"Maester Luwin says there are no more giants. He says they're all dead, like the children of the forest. All that's left of them are old bones in the earth that men turn up with plows from time to time.\"\n\n\"Let Maester Luwin ride beyond the Wall,\" Osha said. \"He'll find giants then, or they'll find him. My brother killed one. Ten foot tall she was, and stunted at that. They've been known to grow big as twelve and thirteen feet. Fierce things they are too, all hair and teeth, and the wives have beards like their husbands, so there's no telling them apart. The women take human men for lovers, and it's from them the half bloods come. It goes harder on the women they catch. The men are so big they'll rip a maid apart before they get her with child.\" She grinned at him. \"But you don't know what I mean, do you, boy?\"\n\n\"Yes I do,\" Bran insisted. He understood about mating; he had seen dogs in the yard, and watched a stallion mount a mare. But talking about it made him uncomfortable. He looked at Hodor. \"Go back and bring your clothes, Hodor,\" he said. \"Go dress.\"\n\n\"Hodor.\" He walked back the way he had come, ducking under a low-hanging tree limb.\n\nHe was awfully big, Bran thought as he watched him go. \"Are there truly giants beyond the Wall?\" he asked Osha, uncertainly.\n\n\"Giants and worse than giants, Lordling. I tried to tell your brother when he asked his questions, him and your maester and that smiley boy Greyjoy. The cold winds are rising, and men go out from their fires and never comeback... or if they do, they're not men no more, but only wights, with blue eyes and cold black hands. Why do you think I run south with Stiv and Hali and the rest of them fools? Mance thinks he'll fight, the brave sweet stubborn man, like the white walkers were no more than rangers, but what does he know? He can call himself King-beyond-the-Wall all he likes, but he's still just another old black crow who flew down from the Shadow Tower. He's never tasted winter. I was born up there, child, like my mother and her mother before her and her mother before her, born of the Free Folk. We remember.\" Osha stood, her chains rattling together. \"I tried to tell your lordling brother. Only yesterday, when I saw him in the yard. \"M'lord Stark, \"I called to him, respectful as you please, but he looked through me, and that sweaty oaf Greatjon Umber shoves me out of the path. So be it. I'll wear my irons and hold my tongue. A man who won't listen can't hear.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell me. Robb will listen tome, I know he will.\"\n\n\"Will he now? We'll see. You tell him this, m'lord. You tell him he's bound on marching the wrong way. It's north he should betaking his swords. North, not south. You hear me?\"\n\nBran nodded. \"I'll tell him.\"\n\nBut that night, when they feasted in the Great Hall, Robb was not with them. He took his meal in the solar instead, with Lord Rickard and the Greatjon and the other lords bannermen, to make the final plans for the long march to come. It was left to Bran to fill his place at the head of the table, and act the host to Lord Karstark's sons and honored friends. They were already at their places when Hodor carried Bran into the hall on his back, and knelt beside the high seat. Two of the serving men helped lift him from his basket. Bran could feel the eyes of every stranger in the hall. It had grown quiet. \"My lords,\" Hallis Mollen announced, \"Brandon Stark, of Winterfell.\"\n\n\"I welcome you to our fires,\" Bran said stiffly, \"and offer you meat and mead in honor of our friendship.\"\n\nHarrion Karstark, the oldest of Lord Rickard's sons, bowed, and his brothers after him, yet as they settled back in their places he heard the younger two talking in low voices, over the clatter of wine cups. \"... sooner die than live like that,\" muttered one, his father's namesake Eddard, and his brother Torrhen said likely the boy was broken inside as well as out, too craven to take his own life.\n\nBroken, Bran thought bitterly as he clutched his knife. Is that what he was now? Bran the Broken? \"I don't want to be broken,\" he whispered fiercely to Maester Luwin, who'd been seated to his right. \"I want to be a knight.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"There are some who call my order the knights of the mind,\" Luwin replied."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You area surpassing clever boy when you work at it, Bran. Have you ever thought that you might wear a maester's chain? There is no limit to what you might learn.\"\n\n\"I want to learn magic,\" Bran told him. \"The crow promised that I would fly.\"\n\nMaester Luwin sighed. \"I can teach you history, healing, herblore. I can teach you the speech of ravens, and how to build a castle, and the way a sailor steers his ship by the stars. I can teach you to measure the days and mark the seasons, and at the Citadel in Oldtown they can teach you a thousand things more. But, Bran, no man can teach you magic.\"\n\n\"The children could,\" Bran said. \"The children of the forest.\" That reminded him of the promise he had made to Osha in the godswood, so he told Luwin what she had said.\n\nThe maester listened politely. \"The Wildling woman could give Old Nan lessons in telling tales, I think,\" he said when Bran was done. \"I will talk with her again if you like, but it would be best if you did not trouble your brother with this folly. He has more than enough to concern him without fretting over giants and dead men in the woods. It's the Lannisters who hold your lord father, Bran, not the children of the forest.\" He put a gentle hand on Bran's arm. \"Think on what I said, child.\"\n\nAnd two days later, as a red dawn broke across a windswept sky, Bran found himself in the yard beneath the gatehouse, strapped atop Dancer as he said his farewells to his brother.\n\n\"You are the lord in Winterfell now,\" Robb told him. He was mounted on a shaggy grey stallion, his shield hung from the horse's side; wood banded with iron, white and grey, and on it the snarling face of a direwolf. His brother wore grey chainmail over bleached leathers, sword and dagger at his waist, a fur-trimmed cloak across his shoulders. \"You must take my place, as I took Father's, until we come home.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I know,\" Bran replied miserably."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had never felt so little or alone or scared. He did not know how to be a lord.\n\n\"Listen to Maester Luwin's counsel, and take care of Rickon. Tell him that I'll be back as soon as the fighting is done.\"\n\nRickon had refused to comedown. He was up in his chamber, red-eyed and defiant. \"No!\" he'd screamed when Bran had asked if he didn't want to say farewell to Robb. \"NO farewell!\"\n\n\"I told him,\" Bran said. \"He says no one ever comes back.\"\n\n\"He can't be a baby forever. He's a Stark, and near four.\" Robb sighed. \"Well, Mother will be home soon. And I'll bring back Father, I promise.\"\n\nHe wheeled his courser around and trotted away. Grey Wind followed, loping beside the warhorse, lean and swift. Hallis Mollen went before them through the gate, carrying the rippling white banner of House Stark atop a high standard of grey ash. Theon Greyjoy and the Greatjon fell in on either side of Robb, and their knights formed up in a double column behind them, steel-tipped lances glinting in the sun.\n\nUncomfortably, he remembered Osha's words. He's marching the wrong way, he thought. For an instant he wanted to gallop after him and shout a warning, but when Robb vanished beneath the portcullis, the moment was gone.\n\nBeyond the castle walls, a roar of sound went up. The foot soldiers and townsfolk were cheering Robb as he rode past, Bran knew; cheering for Lord Stark, for the Lord of Winterfell on his great stallion, with his cloak streaming and Grey Wind racing beside him. They would never cheer for him that way, he realized with a dull ache. He might be the lord in Winterfell while his brother and father were gone, but he was still Bran the Broken. He could not even get off his own horse, except to fall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When the distant cheers had faded to silence and the yard was empty at last, Winterfell seemed deserted and dead."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bran looked around at the faces of those who remained, women and children and old men... and Hodor. The huge stableboy had a lost and frightened look to his face. \"Hodor?\" he said sadly.\n\n\"Hodor,\" Bran agreed, wondering what it meant."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he had taken his pleasure, Khal Drogo rose from their sleeping mats to tower above her. His skin shone dark as bronze in the ruddy light from the brazier, the faint lines of old scars visible on his broad chest. Ink-black hair, loose and unbound, cascaded over his shoulders and down his back, well past his waist. His manhood glistened wetly. The khal's mouth twisted in a frown beneath the droop of his long mustachio. \"The stallion who mounts the world has no need of iron chairs.\"\n\nDany propped herself on an elbow to lookup at him, so tall and magnificent. She loved his hair especially. It had never been cut; he had never known defeat. \"It was prophesied that the stallion will ride to the ends of the earth,\" she said.\n\n\"The earth ends at the black salt sea,\" Drogo answered at once. He wet a cloth in a basin of warm water to wipe the sweat and oil from his skin. \"No horse can cross the poison water.\"\n\n\"In the Free Cities, there are ships by the thousand,\" Dany told him, as she had told him before. \"Wooden horses with a hundred legs, that fly across the sea on wings full of wind.\"\n\nKhal Drogo did not want to hear it. \"We will speak no more of wooden horses andiron chairs.\" He dropped the cloth and began to dress. \"This day I will go to the grass and hunt, woman wife,\" he announced as he shrugged into a painted vest and buckled on a wide belt with heavy medallions of silver, gold, and bronze.\n\n\"Yes, my sun-and-stars,\" Dany said. Drogo would take his bloodriders and ride in search of hrakkar, the great white lion of the plains. If they returned triumphant, her lord husband's joy would be fierce, and he might be willing to hear her out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Savage beasts he did not fear, nor any man who had ever drawn breath, but the sea was a different matter. To the Dothraki, water that a horse could not drink was something foul; the heaving grey-green plains of the ocean filled them with superstitious loathing. Drogo was a bolder man than the other horselords in half a hundred ways, she had found... but not in this. If only she could get him onto a ship...\n\nAfter the khal and his bloodriders had ridden off with their bows, Dany summoned her handmaids. Her body felt so fat and ungainly now that she welcomed the help of their strong arms and deft hands, whereas before she had often been uncomfortable with the way they fussed and fluttered about her. They scrubbed her clean and dressed her in sandsilk, loose and flowing. As Doreah combed out her hair, she sent Jhiqui to find Ser Jorah Mormont.\n\nThe knight came at once. He wore horsehair leggings and painted vest, like a rider. Coarse black hair covered his thick chest and muscular arms. \"My princess. How may I serve you?\"\n\n\"You must talk to my lord husband,\" Dany said. \"Drogo says the stallion who mounts the world will have all the lands of the earth to rule, and no need to cross the poison water. He talks of leading his khalasar east after Rhaego is born, to plunder the lands around the Jade Sea.\"\n\nThe knight looked thoughtful. \"The khal has never seen the Seven Kingdoms,\" he said. \"They are nothing to him. If he thinks of them at all, no doubt he thinks of islands, a few small cities clinging to rocks in the manner of Lorath or Lys, surrounded by stormy seas. The riches of the east must seem a more tempting prospect.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"But he must ride west,\" Dany said, despairing."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Please, help me make him understand.\" She had never seen the Seven Kingdoms either, no more than Drogo, yet she felt as though she knew them from all the tales her brother had told her. Viserys had promised her a thousand times that he would take her back one day, but he was dead now and his promises had died with him.\n\n\"The Dothraki do things in their own time, for their own reasons,\" the knight answered. \"Have patience, Princess. Do not make your brother's mistake. We will go home, I promise you.\"\n\nHome? The word made her feel sad. Ser Jorah had his Bear Island, but what was home to her? A few tales, names recited as solemnly as the words of a prayer, the fading memory of a red door... was Vaes Dothrak to be her home forever? When she looked at the crones of the dosh khaleen, was she looking at her future?\n\nSer Jorah must have seen the sadness on her face. \"A great caravan arrived during the night, Khaleesi. Four hundred horses, from Pentos byway of Norvos and Qohor, under the command of Merchant Captain Byan Votyris. Illyrio may have sent a letter. Would you care to visit the Western Market?\"\n\nDany stirred. \"Yes,\" she said. \"I would like that.\" The markets came alive when a caravan had come in. You could never tell what treasures the traders might bring this time, and it would be good to hear men speaking Valyrian again, as they did in the Free Cities. \"Irri, have them prepare a litter.\"\n\n\"I shall tell your khas,\" Ser Jorah said, withdrawing.\n\nIf Khal Drogo had been with her, Dany would have ridden her silver. Among the Dothraki, mothers stayed on horseback almost up to the moment of birth, and she did not want to seem weak in her husband's eyes. But with the khal off hunting, it was pleasant to lie back on soft cushions and be carried across Vaes Dothrak, with red silk curtains to shield her from the sun. Ser Jorah saddled up and rode beside her, with the four young men of her khas and her handmaids."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The day was warm and cloudless, the sky a deep blue. When the wind blew, she could smell the rich scents of grass and earth. As her litter passed beneath the stolen monuments, she went from sunlight to shadow and back again. Dany swayed along, studying the faces of dead heroes and forgotten kings. She wondered if the gods of burned cities could still answer prayers.\n\nIf I were not the blood of the dragon, she thought wistfully, this could be my home. She was khaleesi, she had a strongman and a swift horse, handmaids to serve her, warriors to keep her safe, an honored place in the dosh khaleen awaiting her when she grew old... and in her womb grew a son who would one day bestride the world. That should be enough for any woman... but not for the dragon. With Viserys gone, Daenerys was the last, the very last. She was the seed of kings and conquerors, and so too the child inside her. She must not forget.\n\nThe Western Market was a great square of beaten earth surrounded by warrens of mud-baked brick, animal pens, whitewashed drinking halls. Hummocks rose from the ground like the backs of great subterranean beasts breaking the surface, yawning black mouths leading down to cool and cavernous storerooms below. The interior of the square was amaze of stalls and crookback aisles, shaded by awnings of woven grass.\n\nA hundred merchants and traders were unloading their goods and setting up installs when they arrived, yet even so the great market seemed hushed and deserted compared to the teeming bazaars that Dany remembered from Pentos and the other Free Cities. The caravans made their way to Vaes Dothrak from east and west not so much to sell to the Dothraki as to trade with each other, Ser Jorah had explained. The riders let them come and go unmolested, so long as they observed the peace of the sacred city, did not profane the Mother of Mountains or the Womb of the World, and honored the crones of the dosh khaleen with the traditional gifts of salt, silver, and seed. The Dothraki did not truly comprehend this business of buying and selling."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany liked the strangeness of the Eastern Market too, with all its queer sights and sounds and smells. She often spent her mornings there, nibbling tree eggs, locust pie, and green noodles, listening to the high ululating voices of the spellsingers, gaping at manticores in silver cages and immense grey elephants and the striped black-and-white horses of the Jogos Nhai. She enjoyed watching all the people too: dark solemn Asshai'i and tall pale Qartheen, the bright-eyed men of Yi Ti in monkey-tail hats, warrior maids from Bayasabhad, Shamyriana, and Kayakayanaya with iron rings in their nipples and rubies in their cheeks, even the dour and frightening Shadow Men, who covered their arms and legs and chests with tattoos and hid their faces behind masks. The Eastern Market was a place of wonder and magic for Dany.\n\nBut the Western Market smelled of home.\n\nAs Irri and Jhiqui helped her from her litter, she sniffed, and recognized the sharp odors of garlic and pepper, scents that reminded Dany of days long gone in the alleys of Tyrosh and Myr and brought a fond smile to her face. Under that she smelled the heady sweet perfumes of Lys. She saw slaves carrying bolts of intricate Myrish lace and fine wools in a dozen rich colors. Caravan guards wandered among the aisles in copper helmets and knee-length tunics of quilted yellow cotton, empty scabbards swinging from their woven leather belts. Behind one stall an armorer displayed steel breastplates worked with gold and silver in ornate patterns, and helms hammered in the shapes of fanciful beasts. Next to him was a pretty young woman selling Lannisport goldwork, rings and brooches and torcs and exquisitely wrought medallions suitable for belting. A huge eunuch guarded her stall, mute and hairless, dressed in sweat-stained velvets and scowling at anyone who came close. Across the aisle, a fat cloth trader from Yi Ti was haggling with a Pentoshi over the price of some green dye, the monkey tail on his hat swaying back and forth as he shook his head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"When I was a little girl, I loved to play in the bazaar,\" Dany told Ser Jorah as they wandered down the shady aisle between the stalls. \"It was so alive there, all the people shouting and laughing, so many wonderful things to look at... though we seldom had enough coin to buy anything... well, except fora sausage now and again, or honeyfingers... do they have honeyfingers in the Seven Kingdoms, the kind they bake in Tyrosh?\"\n\n\"Cakes, are they? I could not say, Princess.\" The knight bowed. \"If you would pardon me fora time, I will seek out the captain and see if he has letters for us.\"\n\n\"Very well. I'll help you find him.\"\n\n\"There is no need for you to trouble yourself.\" Ser Jorah glanced away impatiently. \"Enjoy the market. I will rejoin you when my business is concluded.\"\n\nCurious, Dany thought as she watched him stride off through the throngs. She didn't see why she should not go with him. Perhaps Ser Jorah meant to find a woman after he met with the merchant captain. Whores frequently traveled with the caravans, she knew, and some men were queerly shy about their couplings. She gave a shrug. \"Come,\" she told the others.\n\nHer handmaids trailed along as Dany resumed her stroll through the market. \"Oh, look,\" she exclaimed to Doreah, \"those are the kind of sausages I meant.\" She pointed to a stall where a wizened little woman was grilling meat and onions on a hot firestone. \"They make them with lots of garlic and hot peppers.\" Delighted with her discovery, Dany insisted the others join her fora sausage. Her handmaids wolfed theirs down giggling and grinning, though the men of her khas sniffed at the grilled meat suspiciously. \"They taste different than I remember,\" Dany said after her first few bites."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"In Pentos, I make them with pork,\" the old woman said, \"but all my pigs died on the Dothraki sea."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "These are made of horsemeat, Khaleesi, but I spice them the same.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Dany felt disappointed, but Quaro liked his sausage so well he decided to have another one, and Rakharo had to outdo him and eat three more, belching loudly. Dany giggled.\n\n\"You have not laughed since your brother the Khal Rhaggat was crowned by Drogo,\" said Irri. \"It is good to see, Khaleesi.\"\n\nDany smiled shyly. It was sweet to laugh. She felt half a girl again.\n\nThey wandered for half the morning. She saw a beautiful feathered cloak from the Summer Isles, and took it fora gift. In return, she gave the merchant a silver medallion from her belt. That was how it was done among the Dothraki. A birdseller taught a green-and-red parrot to say her name, and Dany laughed again, yet still refused to take him. What would she do with a green-and-red parrot in a khalasar? She did take a dozen flasks of scented oils, the perfumes of her childhood; she had only to close her eyes and sniff them and she could seethe big house with the red door once more. When Doreah looked longingly at a fertility charm at a magician's booth, Dany took that too and gave it to the handmaid, thinking that now she should find something for Irri and Jhiqui as well.\n\nTurning a corner, they came upon a wine merchant offering thimble-sized cups of his wares to the passersby. \"Sweet reds,\" he cried in fluent Dothraki, \"I have sweet reds, from Lys and Volantis and the Arbor. Whites from Lys, Tyroshi pear brandy, firewine, pepperwine, the pale green nectars of Myr. Smokeberry browns and Andalish sours, I have them, I have them.\" He was a small man, slender and handsome, his flaxen hair curled and perfumed after the fashion of Lys. When Dany paused before his stall, he bowed low. \"A taste for the khaleesi? I have a sweet red from Dorne, my lady, it sings of plums and cherries and rich dark oak. A cask, a cup, a swallow? One taste, and you will name your child after me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Dany smiled."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My son has his name, but I will try your summerwine,\" she said in Valyrian, Valyrian as they spoke it in the Free Cities. The words felt strange on her tongue, after so long. \"Just a taste, if you would be so kind.\"\n\nThe merchant must have taken her for Dothraki, with her clothes and her oiled hair and sun-browned skin. When she spoke, he gaped at her in astonishment. \"My lady, you are... Tyroshi? Can it be so?\"\n\n\"My speech maybe Tyroshi, and my garb Dothraki, but I am of Westeros, of the Sunset Kingdoms,\" Dany told him.\n\nDoreah stepped up beside her. \"You have the honor to address Daenerys of the House Targaryen, Daenerys Stormborn, khaleesi of the riding men and princess of the Seven Kingdoms.\"\n\nThe wine merchant dropped to his knees. \"Princess,\" he said, bowing his head.\n\n\"Rise,\" Dany commanded him. \"I would still like to taste that summerwine you spoke of.\"\n\nThe man bounded to his feet. \"That? Dornish swill. It is not worthy of a princess. I have a dry red from the Arbor, crisp and delectable. Please, let me give you a cask.\"\n\nKhal Drogo's visits to the Free Cities had given him a taste for good wine, and Dany knew that such a noble vintage would please him. \"You honor me, ser,\" she murmured sweetly.\n\n\"The honor is mine.\" The merchant rummaged about in the back of his stall and produced a small oaken cask. Burned into the wood was a cluster of grapes. \"The Redwyne sigil,\" he said, pointing, \"for the Arbor. There is no finer drink.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Khal Drogo and I will share it together. Aggo, take this back to my litter, if you'd be so kind.\" The wineseller beamed as the Dothraki hefted the cask.\n\nShe did not realize that Ser Jorah had returned until she heard the knight say, \"No.\" His voice was strange, brusque. \"Aggo, put down that cask.\"\n\nAggo looked at Dany. She gave a hesitant nod. \"Ser Jorah, is something wrong?\"\n\n\"I have athirst. Open it, wineseller.\"\n\nThe merchant frowned. \"The wine is for the khaleesi, not for the likes of you, ser.\"\n\nSer Jorah moved closer to the stall. \"If you don't open it, I'll crack it open with your head.\" He carried no weapons herein the sacred city, save his hands-yet his hands were enough, big, hard, dangerous, his knuckles covered with coarse dark hairs. The wineseller hesitated a moment, then took up his hammer and knocked the plug from the cask.\n\n\"Pour,\" Ser Jorah commanded. The four young warriors of Dany's khas arrayed themselves behind him, frowning, watching with their dark, almond-shaped eyes.\n\n\"It would be a crime to drink this rich a wine without letting it breathe.\" The wineseller had not put his hammer down.\n\nJhogo reached for the whip coiled at his belt, but Dany stopped him with alight touch on the arm. \"Do as Ser Jorah says,\" she said. People were stopping to watch.\n\nThe man gave her a quick, sullen glance. \"As the princess commands.\" He had to set aside his hammer to lift the cask. He filled two thimble-sized tasting cups, pouring so deftly he did not spill a drop."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Jorah lifted a cup and sniffed at the wine, frowning.\n\n\"Sweet, isn't it?\" the wineseller said, smiling. \"Can you smell the fruit, ser? The perfume of the Arbor. Taste it, my lord, and tell me it isn't the finest, richest wine that's ever touched your tongue.\"\n\nSer Jorah offered him the cup. \"You taste it first.\"\n\n\"Me?\" The man laughed. \"I am not worthy of this vintage, my lord. And it's a poor wine merchant who drinks up his own wares.\" His smile was amiable, yet she could seethe sheen of sweat on his brow.\n\n\"You will drink,\" Dany said, cold as ice. \"Empty the cup, or I will tell them to hold you down while Ser Jorah pours the whole cask down your throat.\"\n\nThe wineseller shrugged, reached for the cup... and grabbed the cask instead, flinging it at her with both hands. Ser Jorah bulled into her, knocking her out of the way. The cask bounced off his shoulder and smashed open on the ground. Dany stumbled and lost her feet. \"No,\" she screamed, thrusting her hands out to break her fall... and Doreah caught her by the arm and wrenched her backward, so she landed on her legs and not her belly.\n\nThe trader vaulted over the stall, darting between Aggo and Rakharo. Quaro reached for an arakh that was not there as the blond man slammed him aside. He raced down the aisle. Dany heard the snap of Jhogo's whip, saw the leather lick out and coil around the wineseller's leg. The man sprawled face first in the dirt.\n\nA dozen caravan guards had come running. With them was the master himself, Merchant Captain Byan Votyris, a diminutive Norvoshi with skin like old leather and a bristling blue mustachio that swept up to his ears. He seemed to know what had happened without a word being spoken. \"Take this one away to await the pleasure of the khal,\" he commanded, gesturing at the man on the ground. Two guards hauled the wineseller to his feet. \"His goods I gift to you as well, Princess,\" the merchant captain went on. \"Small token of regret, that one of mine would do this thing.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Doreah and Jhiqui helped Dany back to her feet. The poisoned wine was leaking from the broken cask into the dirt. \"How did you know?\" she asked Ser Jorah, trembling. \"How?\"\n\n\"I did not know, Khaleesi, not until the man refused to drink, but once I read Magister Illyrio's letter, I feared.\" His dark eyes swept over the faces of the strangers in the market. \"Come. Best not to talk of it here.\"\n\nDany was near tears as they carried her back. The taste in her mouth was one she had known before: fear. For years she had lived in terror of Viserys, afraid of waking the dragon. This was even worse. It was not just for herself that she feared now, but for her baby. He must have sensed her fright, for he moved restlessly inside her. Dany stroked the swell of her belly gently, wishing she could reach him, touch him, soothe him. \"You are the blood of the dragon, little one,\" she whispered as her litter swayed along, curtains drawn tight. \"You are the blood of the dragon, and the dragon does not fear.\"\n\nUnder the hollow hummock of earth that washer home in Vaes Dothrak, Dany ordered them to leave her-all but Ser Jorah. \"Tell me,\" she commanded as she lowered herself onto her cushions. \"Was it the Usurper?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" The knight drew out a folded parchment. \"A letter to Viserys, from Magister Illyrio. Robert Baratheon offers lands and lordships for your death, or your brother's.\"\n\n\"My brother?\" Her sob was half a laugh. \"He does not know yet, does he? The Usurper owes Drogo a lordship.\" This time her laugh was half a sob. She hugged herself protectively. \"And me, you said. Only me?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You and the child,\" Ser Jorah said, grim.\n\n\"No. He cannot have my son.\" She would not weep, she decided. She would not shiver with fear. The Usurper has woken the dragon now, she told herself... and her eyes went to the dragon's eggs resting in their nest of dark velvet. The shifting lamplight limned their stony scales, and shimmering motes of jade and scarlet and gold swam in the air around them, like courtiers around a king.\n\nWas it madness that seized her then, born of fear? Or some strange wisdom buried in her blood? Dany could not have said. She heard her own voice saying, \"Ser Jorah, light the brazier.\"\n\n\"Khaleesi?\" The knight looked at her strangely. \"It is so hot. Are you certain?\"\n\nShe had never been so certain. \"Yes. I... I have a chill. Light the brazier.\"\n\nHe bowed. \"As you command.\"\n\nWhen the coals were afire, Dany sent Ser Jorah from her. She had to be alone to do what she must do. This is madness, she told herself as she lifted the black-and-scarlet egg from the velvet. It will only crack and burn, and it's so beautiful, Ser Jorah will call me a fool if I ruin it, and yet, and yet...\n\nCradling the egg with both hands, she carried it to the fire and pushed it down amongst the burning coals. The black scales seemed to glow as they drank the heat. Flames licked against the stone with small red tongues. Dany placed the other two eggs beside the black one in the fire. As she stepped back from the brazier, the breath trembled in her throat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She watched until the coals had turned to ashes. Drifting sparks floated up and out of the smokehole. Heat shimmered in waves around the dragon's eggs. And that was all.\n\nYour brother Rhaegar was the last dragon, Ser Jorah had said. Dany gazed at her eggs sadly. What had she expected? A thousand thousand years ago they had been alive, but now they were only pretty rocks. They could not make a dragon. A dragon was air and fire. Living flesh, not dead stone.\n\nThe brazier was cold again by the time Khal Drogo returned. Cohollo was leading a packhorse behind him, with the carcass of a great white lion slung across its back. Above, the stars were coming out. The khal laughed as he swung down off his stallion and showed her the scars on his leg where the hrakkar had raked him through his leggings. \"I shall make you a cloak of its skin, moon of my life,\" he swore.\n\nWhen Dany told him what had happened at the market, all laughter stopped, and Khal Drogo grew very quiet.\n\n\"This poisoner was the first,\" Ser Jorah Mormont warned him, \"but he will not be the last. Men will risk much fora lordship.\"\n\nDrogo was silent fora time. Finally he said, \" This seller of poisons ran from the moon of my life. Better he should run after her. So he will. Jhogo, Jorah the Andal, to each of you I say, choose any horse you wish from my herds, and it is yours. Any horse save my red and the silver that was my bride gift to the moon of my life. I make this gift to you for what you did.\n\n\"And to Rhaego son of Drogo, the stallion who will mount the world, to him I also pledge a gift. To him I will give this iron chair his mother's father satin. I will give him Seven Kingdoms. I, Drogo, khal, will do this thing.\" His voice rose, and he lifted his fist to the sky. \"I will take my khalasar west to where the world ends, and ride the wooden horses across the black saltwater as no khal has done before. I will kill the men in the iron suits and tear down their stone houses. I will rape their women, take their children as slaves, and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak to bow down beneath the Mother of Mountains. This I vow, I, Drogo son of Bharbo. This I swear before the Mother of Mountains, as the stars look down in witness.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His khalasar left Vaes Dothrak two days later, striking south and west across the plains. Khal Drogo led them on his great red stallion, with Daenerys beside him on her silver. The wineseller hurried behind them, naked, on foot, chained at throat and wrists. His chains were fastened to the halter of Dany's silver. As she rode, he ran after her, barefoot and stumbling. No harm would come to him... so long as he kept up."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was too far to make out the banners clearly, but even through the drifting fog she could see that they were white, with a dark smudge in their center that could only be the direwolf of Stark, grey upon its icy field. When she saw it with her own eyes, Catelyn reined up her horse and bowed her head in thanks. The gods were good. She was not too late.\n\n\"They await our coming, my lady,\" Ser Wylis Manderly said, \"as my lord father swore they would.\"\n\n\"Let us not keep them waiting any longer, ser.\" Ser Brynden Tully put the spurs to his horse and trotted briskly toward the banners. Catelyn rode beside him.\n\nSer Wylis and his brother Ser Wendel followed, leading their levies, near fifteen hundred men: some twenty-odd knights and as many squires, two hundred mounted lances, swordsmen, and freeriders, and the rest foot, armed with spears, pikes and tridents. Lord Wyman had remained behind to see to the defenses of White Harbor. A man of near sixty years, he had grown too stout to sit a horse. \"If I had thought to see war again in my lifetime, I should have eaten a few less eels,\" he'd told Catelyn when he met her ship, slapping his massive belly with both hands. His fingers were fat as sausages. \"My boys will see you safe to your son, though, have no fear.\"\n\nHis'boys\" were both older than Catelyn, and she might have wished that they did not take after their father quite so closely. Ser Wylis was only a few eels short of not being able to mount his own horse; she pitied the poor animal. Ser Wendel, the younger boy, would have been the fattest man she'd ever known, had she only neglected to meet his father and brother. Wylis was quiet and formal, Wendel loud and boisterous; both had ostentatious walrus mustaches and heads as bare as a baby's bottom; neither seemed to own a single garment that was not spotted with food stains. Yet she liked them well enough; they had gotten her to Robb, as their father had vowed, and nothing else mattered."
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"value": "She was pleased to see that her son had sent eyes out, even to the east. The Lannisters would come from the south when they came, but it was good that Robb was being careful. My son is leading a host to war, she thought, still only half believing it. She was desperately afraid for him, and for Winterfell, yet she could not deny feeling a certain pride as well. A year ago he had been a boy. What was he now? she wondered.\n\nOutriders spied the Manderly banners-the white merman with trident in hand, rising from a blue-green sea-and hailed them warmly. They were led to a spot of high ground dry enough fora camp. Ser Wylis called a halt there, and remained behind with his men to seethe fires laid and the horses tended, while his brother Wendel rode on with Catelyn and her uncle to present their father's respects to their liege lord.\n\nThe ground under their horses'hooves was soft and wet. It fell away slowly beneath them as they rode past smoky peat fires, lines of horses, and wagons heavy-laden with hardbread and salt beef. On a stony outcrop of land higher than the surrounding country, they passed a lord's pavilion with walls of heavy sailcloth. Catelyn recognized the banner, the bull moose of the Hornwoods, brown on its dark orange field.\n\nJust beyond, through the mists, she glimpsed the walls and towers of Moat Cailin... or what remained of them. Immense blocks of black basalt, each as large as a crofter's cottage, lay scattered and tumbled like a child's wooden blocks, half-sunk in the soft boggy soil. Nothing else remained of a curtain wall that had once stood as high as Winterfell's. The wooden keep was gone entirely, rotted away a thousand years past, with not so much as a timber to mark where it had stood. All that was left of the great stronghold of the First Men were three towers... three where there had once been twenty, if the taletellers could be believed."
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Gatehouse Tower looked sound enough, and even boasted a few feet of standing wall to either side of it. The Drunkard's Tower, off in the bog where the south and west walls had once met, leaned like a man about to spew a bellyful of wine into the gutter. And the tall, slender Children's Tower, where legend said the children of the forest had once called upon their nameless gods to send the hammer of the waters, had lost half its crown. It looked as if some great beast had taken a bite out of the crenellations along the tower top, and spit the rubble across the bog. All three towers were green with moss. A tree was growing out between the stones on the north side of the Gatehouse Tower, its gnarled limbs festooned with ropy white blankets of ghostskin.\n\n\"Gods have mercy,\" Ser Brynden exclaimed when he saw what lay before them. \"This is Moat Cailin? It's no more than a-\"\n\n\"-deathtrap,\" Catelyn finished. \"I know how it looks, Uncle. I thought the same the first time I saw it, but Ned assured me that this ruin is more formidable than it seems. The three surviving towers command the causeway from all sides, and any enemy must pass between them. The bogs here are impenetrable, full of quicksands and suckholes and teeming with snakes. To assault any of the towers, an army would need to wade through waist-deep black muck, cross a moat full of lizard-lions, and scale walls slimy with moss, all the while exposing themselves to fire from archers in the other towers.\" She gave her uncle a grim smile. \"And when night falls, there are said to be ghosts, cold vengeful spirits of the north who hunger for southron blood.\""
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"value": "Ser Brynden chuckled. \"Remind me not to linger here. Last I looked, I was southron myself.\"\n\nStandards had been raised atop all three towers. The Karstark sunburst hung from the Drunkard's Tower, beneath the direwolf; on the Children's Tower it was the Greatjon's giant in shattered chains. But on the Gatehouse Tower, the Stark banner flew alone. That was where Robb had made his seat. Catelyn made for it, with Ser Brynden and Ser Wendel behind her, their horses stepping slowly down the log-and-plank road that had been laid across the green-and-black fields of mud.\n\nShe found her son surrounded by his father's lords bannermen, in a drafty hall with a peat fire smoking in a black hearth. He was seated at a massive stone table, a pile of maps and papers in front of him, talking intently with Roose Bolton and the Greatjon. At first he did not notice her... but his wolf did. The great grey beast was lying near the fire, but when Catelyn entered he lifted his head, and his golden eyes met hers. The lords fell silent one by one, and Robb looked up at the sudden quiet and saw her. \"Mother!\" he said, his voice thick with emotion.\n\nCatelyn wanted to run to him, to kiss his sweet brow, to wrap him in her arms and hold him so tightly that he would never come to harm... but herein front of his lords, she dared not. He was playing a man's part now, and she would not take that away from him. So she held herself at the far end of the basalt slab they were using fora table. The direwolf got to his feet and padded across the room to where she stood. It seemed bigger than a wolf ought to be. \"You've grown a beard,\" she said to Robb, while Grey Wind sniffed her hand."
},
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"value": "He rubbed his stubbled jaw, suddenly awkward. \"Yes.\" His chin hairs were redder than the ones on his head.\n\n\"I like it.\" Catelyn stroked the wolf's head, gently. \"It makes you look like my brother Edmure.\" Grey Wind nipped at her fingers, playful, and trotted back to his place by the fire.\n\nSer Helman Tallhart was the first to follow the direwolf across the room to pay his respects, kneeling before her and pressing his brow to her hand. \"Lady Catelyn,\" he said, \"you are fair as ever, a welcome sight in troubled times.\" The Glovers followed, Galbart and Robett, and Greatjon Umber, and the rest, one by one. Theon Greyjoy was the last. \"I had not looked to see you here, my lady,\" he said as he knelt.\n\n\"I had not thought to be here,\" Catelyn said, \"until I came ashore at White Harbor, and Lord Wyman told me that Robb had called the banners. You know his son, Ser Wendel,\" Wendel Manderly stepped forward and bowed as low as his girth would allow. \"And my uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, who has left my sister's service for mine.\"\n\n\"The Blackfish,\" Robb said. \"Thank you for joining us, ser. We need men of your courage. And you, Ser Wendel, I am glad to have you here. Is Ser Rodrik with you as well, Mother? I've missed him.\"\n\n\"Ser Rodrik is on his way north from White Harbor. I have named him castellan and commanded him to hold Winterfell till our return. Maester Luwin is a wise counsellor, but unskilled in the arts of war.\""
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Have no fear on that count, Lady Stark,\" the Greatjon told her in his bass rumble. \"Winterfell is safe. We'll shove our swords up Tywin Lannister's bunghole soon enough, begging your pardons, and then it's onto the Red Keep to free Ned.\"\n\n\"My lady, a question, as it please you.\" Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, had a small voice, yet when he spoke larger men quieted to listen. His eyes were curiously pale, almost without color, and his look disturbing. \"It is said that you hold Lord Tywin's dwarf son as captive. Have you brought him to us? I vow, we should make good use of such a hostage.\"\n\n\"I did hold Tyrion Lannister, but no longer,\" Catelyn was forced to admit. A chorus of consternation greeted the news. \"I was no more pleased than you, my lords. The gods saw fit to free him, with some help from my fool of a sister.\" She ought not to be so open in her contempt, she knew, but her parting from the Eyrie had not been pleasant. She had offered to take Lord Robert with her, to foster him at Winterfell fora few years. The company of other boys would do him good, she had dared to suggest. Lysa's rage had been frightening to behold. \"Sister or no,\" she had replied, \"if you try to steal my son, you will leave by the Moon Door.\" After that there was no more to be said.\n\nThe lords were anxious to question her further, but Catelyn raised a hand. \"No doubt we will have time for all this later, but my journey has fatigued me. I would speak with my son alone. I know you will forgive me, my lords.\" She gave them no choice; led by the ever-obliging Lord Hornwood, the bannermen bowed and took their leave. \"And you, Theon,\" she added when Greyjoy lingered. He smiled and left them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was ale and cheese on the table. Catelyn filled a horn, sat, sipped, and studied her son. He seemed taller than when she'd left, and the wisps of beard did make him look older. \"Edmure was sixteen when he grew his first whiskers.\"\n\n\"I will be sixteen soon enough,\" Robb said.\n\n\"And you are fifteen now. Fifteen, and leading a host to battle. Can you understand why I might fear, Robb?\"\n\nHis look grew stubborn. \"There was no one else.\"\n\n\"No one?\" she said. \"Pray, who were those men I saw here a moment ago? Roose Bolton, Rickard Karstark, Galbart and Robett Glover, the Greatjon, Helman Tallhart... you might have given the command to any of them. Gods be good, you might even have sent Theon, though he would not be my choice.\"\n\n\"They are not Starks,\" he said.\n\n\"They are men, Robb, seasoned in battle. You were fighting with wooden swords less than a year past.\"\n\nShe saw anger in his eyes at that, but it was gone as quick as it came, and suddenly he was a boy again. \"I know,\" he said, abashed. \"Are you... are you sending me back to Winterfell?\"\n\nCatelyn sighed. \"I should. You ought never have left. Yet I dare not, not now. You have come too far. Someday these lords will look to you as their liege. If I pack you off now, like a child being sent to bed without his supper, they will remember, and laugh about it in their cups. The day will come when you need them to respect you, even fear you a little. Laughter is poison to fear. I will not do that to you, much as I might wish to keep you safe.\""
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"value": "\"You have my thanks, Mother,\" he said, his relief obvious beneath the formality.\n\nShe reached across his table and touched his hair. \"You are my firstborn, Robb. I have only to look at you to remember the day you came into the world, red-faced and squalling.\"\n\nHe rose, clearly uncomfortable with her touch, and walked to the hearth. Grey Wind rubbed his head against his leg. \"You know... about Father?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" The reports of Robert's sudden death and Ned's fall had frightened Catelyn more than she could say, but she would not let her son see her fear. \"Lord Manderly told me when I landed at White Harbor. Have you had any word of your sisters?\"\n\n\"There was a letter,\" Robb said, scratching his direwolf under the jaw. \"One for you as well, but it came to Winterfell with mine.\" He went to the table, rummaged among some maps and papers, and returned with a crumpled parchment. \"This is the one she wrote me, I never thought to bring yours.\"\n\nSomething in Robb's tone troubled her. She smoothed out the paper and read. Concern gave way to disbelief, then to anger, and lastly to fear. \"This is Cersei's letter, not your sister's,\" she said when she was done. \"The real message is in what Sansa does not say. All this about how kindly and gently the Lannisters are treating her... I know the sound of a threat, even whispered. They have Sansa hostage, and they mean to keep her.\"\n\n\"There's no mention of Arya,\" Robb pointed out, miserable.\n\n\"No.\" Catelyn did not want to think what that might mean, not now, not here."
},
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I had hoped... if you still held the Imp, a trade of hostages...\" He took Sansa's letter and crumpled it in his fist, and she could tell from the way he did it that it was not the first time. \"Is there word from the Eyrie? I wrote to Aunt Lysa, asking help. Has she called Lord Arryn's banners, do you know? Will the knights of the Vale come join us?\"\n\n\"Only one,\" she said, \"the best of them, my uncle... but Brynden Blackfish was a Tully first. My sister is not about to stir beyond her Bloody Gate.\"\n\nRobb took it hard. \"Mother, what are we going to do? I brought this whole army together, eighteen thousand men, but I don't... I'm not certain...\" He looked to her, his eyes shining, the proud young lord melted away in an instant, and quick as that he was a child again, a fifteen-year-old boy looking to his mother for answers.\n\nIt would not do.\n\n\"What are you so afraid of, Robb?\" she asked gently.\n\n\"I...\" He turned his head away, to hide the first tear. \"If we march... even if we win... the Lannisters hold Sansa, and Father. They'll kill them, won't they?\"\n\n\"They want us to think so.\"\n\n\"You mean they're lying?\"\n\n\"I do not know, Robb. What I do know is that you have no choice. If you go to King's Landing and swear fealty, you will never be allowed to leave. If you turn your tail and retreat to Winterfell, your lords will lose all respect for you. Some may even go over to the Lannisters. Then the queen, with that much less to fear, can do as she likes with her prisoners. Our best hope, our only true hope, is that you can defeat the foe in the field. If you should chance to take Lord Tywin or the Kingslayer captive, why then a trade might very well be possible, but that is not the heart of it. So long as you have power enough that they must fear you, Ned and your sister should be safe. Cersei is wise enough to know that she may need them to make her peace, should the fighting go against her.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue the tale as the plot helper for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 58"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I had hoped... if you still held the Imp, a trade of hostages...\" He took Sansa's letter and crumpled it in his fist, and she could tell from the way he did it that it was not the first time. \"Is there word from the Eyrie? I wrote to Aunt Lysa, asking help. Has she called Lord Arryn's banners, do you know? Will the knights of the Vale come join us?\"\n\n\"Only one,\" she said, \"the best of them, my uncle... but Brynden Blackfish was a Tully first. My sister is not about to stir beyond her Bloody Gate.\"\n\nRobb took it hard. \"Mother, what are we going to do? I brought this whole army together, eighteen thousand men, but I don't... I'm not certain...\" He looked to her, his eyes shining, the proud young lord melted away in an instant, and quick as that he was a child again, a fifteen-year-old boy looking to his mother for answers.\n\nIt would not do.\n\n\"What are you so afraid of, Robb?\" she asked gently.\n\n\"I...\" He turned his head away, to hide the first tear. \"If we march... even if we win... the Lannisters hold Sansa, and Father. They'll kill them, won't they?\"\n\n\"They want us to think so.\"\n\n\"You mean they're lying?\"\n\n\"I do not know, Robb. What I do know is that you have no choice. If you go to King's Landing and swear fealty, you will never be allowed to leave. If you turn your tail and retreat to Winterfell, your lords will lose all respect for you. Some may even go over to the Lannisters. Then the queen, with that much less to fear, can do as she likes with her prisoners. Our best hope, our only true hope, is that you can defeat the foe in the field. If you should chance to take Lord Tywin or the Kingslayer captive, why then a trade might very well be possible, but that is not the heart of it. So long as you have power enough that they must fear you, Ned and your sister should be safe. Cersei is wise enough to know that she may need them to make her peace, should the fighting go against her.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What if the fighting doesn't go against her?\" Robb asked. \"What if it goes against us?\"\n\nCatelyn took his hand. \"Robb, I will not soften the truth for you. If you lose, there is no hope for any of us. They say there is naught but stone at the heart of Casterly Rock. Remember the fate of Rhaegar's children.\"\n\nShe saw the fear in his young eyes then, but there was a strength as well. \"Then I will not lose,\" he vowed.\n\n\"Tell me what you know of the fighting in the riverlands,\" she said. She had to learn if he was truly ready.\n\n\"Less than a fortnight past, they fought a battle in the hills below the Golden Tooth,\" Robb said. \" Uncle Edmure had sent Lord Vance and Lord Piper to hold the pass, but the Kingslayer descended on them and put them to flight. Lord Vance was slain. The last word we had was that Lord Piper was falling back to join your brother and his other bannermen at Riverrun, with Jaime Lannister on his heels. That's not the worst of it, though. All the time they were battling in the pass, Lord Tywin was bringing a second Lannister army around from the south. It's said to be even larger than Jaime's host.\n\n\"Father must have known that, because he sent out some men to oppose them, under the king's own banner. He gave the command to some southron lordling, Lord Erik or Derik or something like that, but Ser Raymun Darry rode with him, and the letter said there were other knights as well, and a force of Father's own guardsmen. Only it was a trap. Lord Derik had no sooner crossed the Red Fork than the Lannisters fell upon him, the king's banner be damned, and Gregor Clegane took them in the rear as they tried to pullback across the Mummer's Ford. This Lord Derik and a few others may have escaped, no one is certain, but Ser Raymun was killed, and most of our men from Winterfell. Lord Tywin has closed off the kingsroad, it's said, and now he's marching north toward Harrenhal, burning as he goes.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Grim and grimmer, thought Catelyn. It was worse than she'd imagined. \"You mean to meet him here?\" she asked.\n\n\"If he comes so far, but no one thinks he will,\" Robb said. \"I've sent word to Howland Reed, Father's old friend at Greywater Watch. If the Lannisters come up the Neck, the crannogmen will bleed them every step of the way, but Galbart Glover says Lord Tywin is too smart for that, and Roose Bolton agrees. He'll stay close to the Trident, they believe, taking the castles of the river lords one by one, until Riverrun stands alone. We need to march south to meet him.\"\n\nThe very idea of it chilled Catelyn to the bone. What chance would a fifteen-year-old boy have against seasoned battle commanders like Jaime and Tywin Lannister? \"Is that wise? You are strongly placed here. It's said that the old Kings in the North could stand at Moat Cailin and throwback hosts ten times the size of their own.\"\n\n\"Yes, but our food and supplies are running low, and this is not land we can live off easily. We've been waiting for Lord Manderly, but now that his sons have joined us, we need to march.\"\n\nShe was hearing the lords bannermen speaking with her son's voice, she realized. Over the years, she had hosted many of them at Winterfell, and been welcomed with Ned to their own hearths and tables. She knew what sorts of men they were, each one. She wondered if Robb did.\n\nAnd yet there was sense in what they said. This host her son had assembled was not a standing army such as the Free Cities were accustomed to maintain, nor a force of guardsmen paid in coin. Most of them were smallfolk: crofters, fieldhands, fishermen, sheepherders, the sons of innkeeps and traders and tanners, leavened with a smattering of sellswords and freeriders hungry for plunder. When their lords called, they came... but not forever. \"Marching is all very well,\" she said to her son, \"but where, and to what purpose? What do you mean to do?\""
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robb hesitated. \"The Greatjon thinks we should take the battle to Lord Tywin and surprise him,\" he said, \"but the Glovers and the Karstarks feel we'd be wiser to go around his army and join up with Uncle Ser Edmure against the Kingslayer.\" He ran his fingers through his shaggy mane of auburn hair, looking unhappy. \"Though by the time we reach Riverrun... I'm not certain...\"\n\n\"Be certain,\" Catelyn told her son, \"or go home and take up that wooden sword again. You cannot afford to seem indecisive in front of men like Roose Bolton and Rickard Karstark. Make no mistake, Robb-these are your bannermen, not your friends. You named yourself battle commander. Command.\"\n\nHer son looked at her, startled, as if he could not credit what he was hearing. \"As you say, Mother.\"\n\n\"I'll ask you again. What do you mean to do?\"\n\nRobb drew a map across the table, a ragged piece of old leather covered with lines of faded paint. One end curled up from being rolled; he weighed it down with his dagger. \"Both plans have virtues, but... look, if we try to swing around Lord Tywin's host, we take the risk of being caught between him and the Kingslayer, and if we attack him... by all reports, he has more men than I do, and a lot more armored horse. The Greatjon says that won't matter if we catch him with his breeches down, but it seems tome that a man who has fought as many battles as Tywin Lannister won't be so easily surprised.\"\n\n\"Good,\" she said. She could hear echoes of Ned in his voice, as he sat there, puzzling over the map. \"Tell me more.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'd leave a small force hereto hold Moat Cailin, archers mostly, and march the rest down the causeway,\" he said, \"but once we're below the Neck, I'd split our host in two."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The foot can continue down the kingsroad, while our horsemen cross the Green Fork at the Twins.\" He pointed. \"When Lord Tywin gets word that we've come south, he'll march north to engage our main host, leaving our riders free to hurry down the west bank to Riverrun.\" Robb sat back, not quite daring to smile, but pleased with himself and hungry for her praise.\n\nCatelyn frowned down at the map. \"You'd put a river between the two parts of your army.\"\n\n\"And between Jaime and Lord Tywin,\" he said eagerly. The smile came at last. \"There's no crossing on the Green Fork above the ruby ford, where Robert won his crown. Not until the Twins, all the way up here, and Lord Frey controls that bridge. He's your father's bannerman, isn't that so?\"\n\nThe Late Lord Frey, Catelyn thought. \"He is,\" she admitted, \"but my father has never trusted him. Nor should you.\"\n\n\"I won't,\" Robb promised. \"What do you think?\"\n\nShe was impressed despite herself. He looks like a Tully, she thought, yet he's still his father's son, and Ned taught him well. \"Which force would you command?\"\n\n\"The horse,\" he answered at once. Again like his father; Ned would always take the more dangerous task himself.\n\n\"And the other?\"\n\n\"The Greatjon is always saying that we should smash Lord Tywin. I thought I'd give him the honor.\"\n\nIt was his first misstep, but how to make him see it without wounding his fledgling confidence? \"Your father once told me that the Greatjon was as fearless as any man he had ever known.\"\n\nRobb grinned. \"Grey Wind ate two of his fingers, and he laughed about it. So you agree, then?\""
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your father is not fearless,\" Catelyn pointed out. \"He is brave, but that is very different.\"\n\nHer son considered that fora moment. \"The eastern host will be all that stands between Lord Tywin and Winterfell,\" he said thoughtfully. \"Well, them and whatever few bowmen I leave here at the Moat. So I don't want someone fearless, do I?\"\n\n\"No. You want cold cunning, I should think, not courage.\"\n\n\"Roose Bolton,\" Robb said at once. \"That man scares me.\"\n\n\"Then let us pray he will scare Tywin Lannister as well.\"\n\nRobb nodded and rolled up the map. \"I'll give the commands, and assemble an escort to take you home to Winterfell.\"\n\nCatelyn had fought to keep herself strong, for Ned's sake and for this stubborn brave son of theirs. She had put despair and fear aside, as if they were garments she did not choose to wear... but now she saw that she had donned them after all.\n\n\"I am not going to Winterfell,\" she heard herself say, surprised at the sudden rush of tears that blurred her vision. \"My father maybe dying behind the walls of Riverrun. My brother is surrounded by foes. I must go to them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Chella daughter of Cheyk of the Black Ears had gone ahead to scout, and it was she who brought back word of the army at the crossroads. \"By their fires I call them twenty thousand strong,\" she said. \"Their banners are red, with a golden lion.\"\n\n\"Your father?\" Bronn asked.\n\n\"Or my brother Jaime,\" Tyrion said. \"We shall know soon enough.\" He surveyed his ragged band of brigands: near three hundred Stone Crows, Moon Brothers, Black Ears, and Burned Men, and those just the seed of the army he hoped to grow. Gunthor son of Gurn was raising the other clans even now. He wondered what his lord father would make of them in their skins and bits of stolen steel. If truth be told, he did not know what to make of them himself. Was he their commander or their captive? Most of the time, it seemed to be a little of both. \"It might be best if I rode down alone,\" he suggested.\n\n\"Best for Tyrion son of Tywin,\" said Ulf, who spoke for the Moon Brothers.\n\nShagga glowered, a fearsome sight to see. \"Shagga son of Dolf likes this not. Shagga will go with the boyman, and if the boyman lies, Shagga will chop off his manhood-\"\n\n\"-and feed it to the goats, yes,\" Tyrion said wearily. \"Shagga, I give you my word as a Lannister, I will return.\"\n\n\"Why should we trust your word?\" Chella was a small hard woman, flat as a boy, and no fool. \"Lowland lords have lied to the clans before.\"\n\n\"You wound me, Chella,\" Tyrion said. \"Here I thought we had become such friends. But as you will. You shall ride with me, and Shagga and Conn for the Stone Crows, Ulf for the Moon Brothers, and Timett son of Timett for the Burned Men.\" The clansmen exchanged wary looks as he named them. \"The rest shall wait here until I send for you. Try not to kill and maim each other while I'm gone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He put his heels to his horse and trotted off, giving them no choice but to follow or be left behind. Either was fine with him, so long as they did not sit down to talk fora day and a night. That was the trouble with the clans; they had an absurd notion that every man's voice should be heard in council, so they argued about everything, endlessly. Even their women were allowed to speak. Small wonder that it had been hundreds of years since they last threatened the Vale with anything beyond an occasional raid. Tyrion meant to change that.\n\nBronn rode with him. Behind them-after a quick bit of grumbling-the five clansmen followed on their under-size garrons, scrawny things that looked like ponies and scrambled up rock walls like goats.\n\nThe Stone Crows rode together, and Chella and Ulf stayed close as well, as the Moon Brothers and Black Ears had strong bonds between them. Timett son of Timett rode alone. Every clan in the Mountains of the Moon feared the Burned Men, who mortified their flesh with fire to prove their courage and (the others said) roasted babies at their feasts. And even the other Burned Men feared Timett, who had putout his own left eye with a white-hot knife when he reached the age of manhood. Tyrion gathered that it was more customary fora boy to burn off a nipple, a finger, or (if he was truly brave, or truly mad) an ear. Timett's fellow Burned Men were so awed by his choice of an eye that they promptly named him a red hand, which seemed to be some sort of a war chief.\n\n\"I wonder what their king burned off,\" Tyrion said to Bronn when he heard the tale. Grinning, the sellsword had tugged at his crotch... but even Bronn kept a respectful tongue around Timett. If a man was mad enough to putout his own eye, he was unlikely to be gentle to his enemies."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Distant watchers peered down from towers of unmortared stone as the party descended through the foothills, and once Tyrion saw a raven take wing. Where the highroad twisted between two rocky outcrops, they came to the first strong point. A low earthen wall four feet high closed off the road, and a dozen crossbowmen manned the heights. Tyrion halted his followers out of range and rode to the wall alone. \"Who commands here?\" he shouted up.\n\nThe captain was quick to appear, and even quicker to give them an escort when he recognized his lord's son. They trotted past blackened fields and burned holdfasts, down to the riverlands and the Green Fork of the Trident. Tyrion saw nobodies, but the air was full of ravens and carrion crows; there had been fighting here, and recently.\n\nHalf a league from the crossroads, a barricade of sharpened stakes had been erected, manned by pikemen and archers. Behind the line, the camp spread out to the far distance. Thin fingers of smoke rose from hundreds of cookfires, mailed men sat under trees and honed their blades, and familiar banners fluttered from staffs thrust into the muddy ground.\n\nA party of mounted horsemen rode forward to challenge them as they approached the stakes. The knight who led them wore silver armor inlaid with amethysts and a striped purple-and-silver cloak. His shield bore a unicorn sigil, and a spiral horn two feet long jutted up from the brow of his horsehead helm. Tyrion reined up to greet him. \"Ser Flement.\"\n\nSer Flement Brax lifted his visor. \"Tyrion,\" he said in astonishment. \"My lord, we all feared you dead, or...\" He looked at the clansmen uncertainly. \"These... companions of yours...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bosom friends and loyal retainers,\" Tyrion said. \"Where will I find my lord father?\"\n\n\"He has taken the inn at the crossroads for his quarters.\"\n\nTyrion laughed. The inn at the crossroads! Perhaps the gods were just after all. \"I will see him at once.\"\n\n\"As you say, my lord.\" Ser Flement wheeled his horse about and shouted commands. Three rows of stakes were pulled from the ground to make a hole in the line. Tyrion led his party through.\n\nLord Tywin's camp spread over leagues. Chella's estimate of twenty thousand men could not be far wrong. The common men camped out in the open, but the knights had thrown up tents, and some of the high lords had erected pavilions as large as houses. Tyrion spied the red ox of the Presters, Lord Crakehall's brindled boar, the burning tree of Marbrand, the badger of Lydden. Knights called out to him as he cantered past, and men-at-arms gaped at the clansmen in open astonishment.\n\nShagga was gaping back; beyond a certainty, he had never seen so many men, horses, and weapons in all his days. The rest of the mountain brigands did a better job of guarding their faces, but Tyrion had no doubts that they were full as much in awe. Better and better. The more impressed they were with the power of the Lannisters, the easier they would be to command.\n\nThe inn and its stables were much as he remembered, though little more than tumbled stones and blackened foundations remained where the rest of the village had stood. A gibbet had been erected in the yard, and the body that swung there was covered with ravens. At Tyrion's approach they took to the air, squawking and flapping their black wings. He dismounted and glanced up at what remained of the corpse. The birds had eaten her lips and eyes and most of her cheeks, baring her stained red teeth in a hideous smile. \"A room, a meal, and a flagon of wine, that was all I asked,\" he reminded her with a sigh of reproach."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Boys emerged hesitantly from the stables to see to their horses."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Shagga did not want to give his up. \"The lad won't steal your mare,\" Tyrion assured him. \"He only wants to give her some oats and water and brush out her coat.\" Shagga's coat could have used a good brushing too, but it would have been less than tactful to mention it. \"You have my word, the horse will not be harmed.\"\n\nGlaring, Shagga let go his grip on the reins. \"This is the horse of Shagga son of Dolf,\" he roared at the stableboy.\n\n\"If he doesn't give her back, chop off his manhood and feed it to the goats,\" Tyrion promised. \"Provided you can find some.\"\n\nA pair of house guards in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms stood under the inn's sign, on either side of the door. Tyrion recognized their captain. \"My father?\"\n\n\"In the common room, m'lord.\"\n\n\"My men will want meat and mead,\" Tyrion told him. \"See that they get it.\" He entered the inn, and there was Father.\n\nTywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, was in his middle fifties, yet hard as a man of twenty. Even seated, he was tall, with long legs, broad shoulders, a flat stomach. His thin arms were corded with muscle. When his once-thick golden hair had begun to recede, he had commanded his barber to shave his head; Lord Tywin did not believe in half measures. He razored his lip and chin as well, but kept his sidewhiskers, two great thickets of wiry golden hair that covered most of his cheeks from ear to jaw. His eyes were a pale green, flecked with gold. A fool more foolish than most had once jested that even Lord Tywin's shit was flecked with gold. Some said the man was still alive, deep in the bowels of Casterly Rock."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Kevan Lannister, his father's only surviving brother, was sharing a flagon of ale with Lord Tywin when Tyrion entered the common room. His uncle was portly and balding, with a close-cropped yellow beard that followed the line of his massive jaw. Ser Kevan saw him first. \"Tyrion,\" he said in surprise.\n\n\"Uncle,\" Tyrion said, bowing. \"And my lord father. What a pleasure to find you here.\"\n\nLord Tywin did not stir from his chair, but he did give his dwarf son along, searching look. \"I see that the rumors of your demise were unfounded.\"\n\n\"Sorry to disappoint you, Father,\" Tyrion said. \"No need to leap up and embrace me, I wouldn't want you to strain yourself.\" He crossed the room to their table, acutely conscious of the way his stunted legs made him waddle with every step. Whenever his father's eyes were on him, he became uncomfortably aware of all his deformities and shortcomings. \"Kind of you to go to war for me,\" he said as he climbed into a chair and helped himself to a cup of his father's ale.\n\n\"By my lights, it was you who started this,\" Lord Tywin replied. \"Your brother Jaime would never have meekly submitted to capture at the hands of a woman.\"\n\n\"That's one way we differ, Jaime and I. He's taller as well, you may have noticed.\"\n\nHis father ignored the sally. \"The honor of our House was at stake. I had no choice but to ride. No man sheds Lannister blood with impunity.\"\n\n\"Hear Me Roar,\" Tyrion said, grinning. The Lannister words. \"Truth be told, none of my blood was actually shed, although it was a close thing once or twice. Morrec and Jyck were killed.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I suppose you will be wanting some new men.\"\n\n\"Don't trouble yourself, Father, I've acquired a few of my own.\" He tried a swallow of the ale. It was brown and yeasty, so thick you could almost chew it. Very fine, in truth. A pity his father had hanged the innkeep. \"How is your war going?\"\n\nHis uncle answered. \"Well enough, for the nonce. Ser Edmure had scattered small troops of men along his borders to stop our raiding, and your lord father and I were able to destroy most of them piecemeal before they could regroup.\"\n\n\"Your brother has been covering himself with glory,\" his father said. \"He smashed the Lords Vance and Piper at the Golden Tooth, and met the massed power of the Tullys under the walls of Riverrun. The lords of the Trident have been put to rout. Ser Edmure Tully was taken captive, with many of his knights and bannermen. Lord Blackwood led a few survivors back to Riverrun, where Jaime has them under siege. The rest fled to their own strongholds.\"\n\n\"Your father and I have been marching on each in turn,\" Ser Kevan said. \"With Lord Blackwood gone, Raventree fell at once, and Lady Whent yielded Harrenhal for want of men to defend it. Ser Gregor burnt out the Pipers and the Brackens...\"\n\n\"Leaving you unopposed?\" Tyrion said.\n\n\"Not wholly,\" Ser Kevan said. \"The Mallisters still hold Seagard and Walder Frey is marshaling his levies at the Twins.\"\n\n\"No matter,\" Lord Tywin said. \"Frey only takes the field when the scent of victory is in the air, and all he smells now is ruin. And Jason Mallister lacks the strength to fight alone. Once Jaime takes Riverrun, they will both be quick enough to bend the knee. Unless the Starks and the Arryns come forth to oppose us, this war is good as won.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I would not fret overmuch about the Arryns if I were you,\" Tyrion said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Starks are another matter. Lord Eddard-\"\n\n\"-is our hostage,\" his father said. \"He will lead no armies while he rots in a dungeon under the Red Keep.\"\n\n\"No,\" Ser Kevan agreed, \"but his son has called the banners and sits at Moat Cailin with a strong host around him.\"\n\n\"No sword is strong until it's been tempered,\" Lord Tywin declared. \"The Stark boy is a child. No doubt he likes the sound of warhorns well enough, and the sight of his banners fluttering in the wind, but in the end it comes down to butcher's work. I doubt he has the stomach for it.\"\n\nThings had gotten interesting while he'd been away, Tyrion reflected. \"And what is our fearless monarch doing whilst all this'butcher's work\" is being done?\" he wondered. \"How has my lovely and persuasive sister gotten Robert to agree to the imprisonment of his dear friend Ned?\"\n\n\"Robert Baratheon is dead,\" his father told him. \"Your nephew reigns in King's Landing.\"\n\nThat did take Tyrion aback. \"My sister, you mean.\" He took another gulp of ale. The realm would be a much different place with Cersei ruling in place of her husband.\n\n\"If you have a mind to make yourself of use, I will give you a command,\" his father said. \"Marq Piper and Karyl Vance are loose in our rear, raiding our lands across the Red Fork.\"\n\nTyrion made a tsking sound. \"The gall of them, fighting back. Ordinarily I'd be glad to punish such rudeness, Father, but the truth is, I have pressing business elsewhere.\"\n\n\"Do you?\" Lord Tywin did not seem awed. \"We also have a pair of Ned Stark's afterthoughts making a nuisance of themselves by harassing my foraging parties. Beric Dondarrion, some young lordling with delusions of valor. He has that fat jape of a priest with him, the one who likes to set his sword on fire. Do you think you might be able to deal with them as you scamper off? Without making too much a botch of it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled. \"Father, it warms my heart to think that you might entrust me with... what, twenty men? Fifty? Are you sure you can spare so many? Well, no matter. If I should come across Thoros and Lord Beric, I shall spank them both.\" He climbed down from his chair and waddled to the sideboard, where a wheel of veined white cheese sat surrounded by fruit. \"First, though, I have some promises of my own to keep,\" he said as he sliced off a wedge. \"I shall require three thousand helms and as many hauberks, plus swords, pikes, steel spearheads, maces, battle-axes, gauntlets, gorgets, greaves, breastplates, wagons to carryall this-\"\n\nThe door behind him opened with a crash, so violently that Tyrion almost dropped his cheese. Ser Kevan leapt up swearing as the captain of the guard went flying across the room to smash against the hearth. Ashe tumbled down into the cold ashes, his lion helm askew, Shagga snapped the man's sword in two over a knee thick as a tree trunk, threw down the pieces, and lumbered into the common room. He was preceded by his stench, riper than the cheese and overpowering in the closed space. \"Little redcape,\" he snarled, \"when next you bare steel on Shagga son of Dolf, I will chop off your manhood and roast it in the fire.\"\n\n\"What, no goats?\" Tyrion said, taking a bite of cheese.\n\nThe other clansmen followed Shagga into the common room, Bronn with them. The sellsword gave Tyrion a rueful shrug."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who might you be?\" Lord Tywin asked, cool as snow.\n\n\"They followed me home, Father,\" Tyrion explained. \"May I keep them? They don't eat much.\"\n\nNo one was smiling. \"By what right do you savages intrude on our councils?\" demanded Ser Kevan.\n\n\"Savages, lowlander?\" Conn might have been handsome if you washed him. \"We are freemen, and freemen by rights sit on all war councils.\"\n\n\"Which one is the lion lord?\" Chella asked.\n\n\"They are both old men,\" announced Timett son of Timett, who had yet to see his twentieth year.\n\nSer Kevan's hand went to his sword hilt, but his brother placed two fingers on his wrist and held him fast. Lord Tywin seemed unperturbed. \"Tyrion, have you forgotten your courtesies? Kindly acquaint us with our... honored guests.\"\n\nTyrion licked his fingers. \"With pleasure,\" he said. \"The fair maid is Chella daughter of Cheyk of the Black Ears.\"\n\n\"I'm no maid,\" Chella protested. \"My sons have taken fifty ears among them.\"\n\n\"May they take fifty more.\" Tyrion waddled away from her. \"This is Conn son of Coratt. Shagga son of Dolf is the one who looks like Casterly Rock with hair. They are Stone Crows. Here is Ulf son of Umar of the Moon Brothers, and here Timett son of Timett, a red hand of the Burned Men. And this is Bronn, a sellsword of no particular allegiance. He has already changed sides twice in the short time I've known him, you and he ought to get on famously, Father.\" To Bronn and the clansmen he said, \"May I present my lord father, Tywin son of Tytos of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, and once and future Hand of the King.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Tywin rose, dignified and correct. \"Even in the west, we know the prowess of the warrior clans of the Mountains of the Moon. What brings you down from your strongholds, my lords?\"\n\n\"Horses,\" said Shagga.\n\n\"A promise of silk and steel,\" said Timett son of Timett.\n\nTyrion was about to tell his lord father how he proposed to reduce the Vale of Arryn to a smoking wasteland, but he was never given the chance. The door banged open again. The messenger gave Tyrion's clansmen a quick, queer look as he dropped to one knee before Lord Tywin. \"My lord,\" he said, \"Ser Addam bid me tell you that the Stark host is moving down the causeway.\"\n\nLord Tywin Lannister did not smile. Lord Tywin never smiled, but Tyrion had learned to read his father's pleasure all the same, and it was thereon his face. \"So the wolfling is leaving his den to play among the lions,\" he said in a voice of quiet satisfaction. \"Splendid. Return to Ser Addam and tell him to fallback. He is not to engage the northerners until we arrive, but I want him to harass their flanks and draw them farther south.\"\n\n\"It will be as you command.\" The rider took his leave.\n\n\"We are well situated here,\" Ser Kevan pointed out. \"Close to the ford and ringed by pits and spikes. If they are coming south, I say let them come, and break themselves against us.\"\n\n\"The boy may hang back or lose his courage when he sees our numbers,\" Lord Tywin replied. \"The sooner the Starks are broken, the sooner I shall be free to deal with Stannis Baratheon. Tell the drummers to beat assembly, and send word to Jaime that I am marching against Robb Stark.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As you will,\" Ser Kevan said.\n\nTyrion watched with a grim fascination as his lord father turned next to the half-wild clansmen. \"It is said that the men of the mountain clans are warriors without fear.\"\n\n\"It is said truly,\" Conn of the Stone Crows answered.\n\n\"And the women,\" Chella added.\n\n\"Ride with me against my enemies, and you shall have all my son promised you, and more,\" Lord Tywin told them.\n\n\"Would you pay us with our own coin?\" Ulf son of Umar said. \"Why should we need the father's promise, when we have the son's?\"\n\n\"I said nothing of need,\" Lord Tywin replied. \"My words were courtesy, nothing more. You need not join us. The men of the winterlands are made of iron and ice, and even my boldest knights fear to face them.\"\n\nOh, deftly done, Tyrion thought, smiling crookedly.\n\n\"The Burned Men fear nothing. Timett son of Timett will ride with the lions.\"\n\n\"Wherever the Burned Men go, the Stone Crows have been there first,\" Conn declared hotly. \"We ride as well.\"\n\n\"Shagga son of Dolf will chop off their manhoods and feed them to the crows.\"\n\n\"We will ride with you, lion lord,\" Chella daughter of Cheyk agreed, \"but only if your halfman son goes with us. He has bought his breath with promises. Until we hold the steel he has pledged us, his life is ours.\"\n\nLord Tywin turned his gold-flecked eyes on his son.\n\n\"Joy,\" Tyrion said with a resigned smile."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The walls of the throne room had been stripped bare, the hunting tapestries that King Robert loved taken down and stacked in the corner in an untidy heap.\n\nSer Mandon Moore went to take his place under the throne beside two of his fellows of the Kingsguard. Sansa hovered by the door, for once unguarded. The queen had given her freedom of the castle as a reward for being good, yet even so, she was escorted everywhere she went. \"Honor guards for my daughter-to-be,\" the queen called them, but they did not make Sansa feel honored.\n\n\"Freedom of the castle\" meant that she could go wherever she chose within the Red Keep so long as she promised not to go beyond the walls, a promise Sansa had been more than willing to give. She couldn't have gone beyond the walls anyway. The gates were watched day and night by Janos Slynt's gold cloaks, and Lannister house guards were always about as well. Besides, even if she could leave the castle, where would she go? It was enough that she could walk in the yard, pick flowers in Myrcella's garden, and visit the sept to pray for her father. Sometimes she prayed in the godswood as well, since the Starks kept the old gods.\n\nThis was the first court session of Joffrey's reign, so Sansa looked about nervously. Aline of Lannister house guards stood beneath the western windows, a line of gold-cloaked City Watchmen beneath the east. Of smallfolk and commoners, she saw no sign, but under the gallery a cluster of lords great and small milled restlessly. There were no more than twenty, where a hundred had been accustomed to wait upon King Robert.\n\nSansa slipped in among them, murmuring greetings as she worked her way toward the front. She recognized black-skinned Jalabhar Xho, gloomy Ser Aron Santagar, the Redwyne twins Horror and Slobber... only none of them seemed to recognize her. Or if they did, they shied away as if she had the grey plague. Sickly Lord Gyles covered his face at her approach and feigned a fit of coughing, and when funny drunken Ser Dontos started to hail her, Ser Balon Swann whispered in his ear and he turned away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And so many others were missing."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Where had the rest of them gone? Sansa wondered. Vainly, she searched for friendly faces. Not one of them would meet her eyes. It was as if she had become a ghost, dead before her time.\n\nGrand Maester Pycelle was seated alone at the council table, seemingly asleep, his hands clasped together atop his beard. She saw Lord Varys hurry into the hall, his feet making no sound. A moment later Lord Baelish entered through the tall doors in the rear, smiling. He chatted amiably with Ser Balon and Ser Dontos as he made his way to the front. Butterflies fluttered nervously in Sansa's stomach. I shouldn't be afraid, she told herself. I have nothing to be afraid of, it will all come out well, Joff loves me and the queen does too, she said so.\n\nA herald's voice rang out. \"All hail His Grace, Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. All hail his lady mother, Cersei of House Lannister, Queen Regent, Light of the West, and Protector of the Realm.\"\n\nSer Barristan Selmy, resplendent in white plate, led them in. Ser Arys Oakheart escorted the queen, while Ser Boros Blount walked beside Joffrey, so six of the Kingsguard were now in the hall, all the White Swords save Jaime Lannister alone. Her prince-no, her king now!-took the steps of the Iron Throne two at a time, while his mother was seated with the council. Joff wore plush black velvets slashed with crimson, a shimmering cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar, and on his head a golden crown crusted with rubies and black diamonds."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When Joffrey turned to lookout over the hall, his eye caught Sansa's."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He smiled, seated himself, and spoke. \"It is a king's duty to punish the disloyal and reward those who are true. Grand Maester Pycelle, I command you to read my decrees.\"\n\nPycelle pushed himself to his feet. He was clad in a magnificent robe of thick red velvet, with an ermine collar and shiny gold fastenings. From a drooping sleeve, heavy with gilded scrollwork, he drew a parchment, unrolled it, and began to read along list of names, commanding each in the name of king and council to present themselves and swear their fealty to Joffrey. Failing that, they would be adjudged traitors, their lands and titles forfeit to the throne.\n\nThe names he read made Sansa hold her breath. Lord Stannis Baratheon, his lady wife, his daughter. Lord Renly Baratheon. Both Lord Royces and their sons. Ser Loras Tyrell. Lord Mace Tyrell, his brothers, uncles, sons. The red priest, Thoros of Myr. Lord Beric Dondarrion. Lady Lysa Arryn and her son, the little Lord Robert. Lord Hoster Tully, his brother Ser Brynden, his son Ser Edmure. Lord Jason Mallister. Lord Bryce Caron of the Marches. Lord Tytos Blackwood. Lord Walder Frey and his heir Ser Stevron. Lord Karyl Vance. Lord Jonos Bracken. Lady Shella Whent. Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne, and all his sons. So many, she thought as Pycelle read on and on, it will take a whole flock of ravens to send out these commands.\n\nAnd at the end, near last, came the names Sansa had been dreading. Lady Catelyn Stark. Robb Stark. Brandon Stark, Rickon Stark, Arya Stark. Sansa stifled a gasp. Arya. They wanted Arya to present herself and swear an oath... it must mean her sister had fled on the galley, she must be safe at Winterfell by now..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Grand Maester Pycelle rolled up the list, tucked it up his left sleeve, and pulled another parchment from his right."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He cleared his throat and resumed. \" In the place of the traitor Eddard Stark, it is the wish of His Grace that Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, take up the office of Hand of the King, to speak with his voice, lead his armies against his enemies, and carryout his royal will. So the king has decreed. The small council consents.\n\n\"In the place of the traitor Stannis Baratheon, it is the wish of His Grace that his lady mother, the Queen Regent Cersei Lannister, who has ever been his staunchest support, be seated upon his small council, that she may help him rule wisely and with justice. So the king has decreed. The small council consents.\"\n\nSansa heard a soft murmuring from the lords around her, but it was quickly stilled. Pycelle continued.\n\n\"It is also the wish of His Grace that his loyal servant, Janos Slynt, Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing, beat once raised to the rank of lord and granted the ancient seat of Harrenhal with all its attendant lands and incomes, and that his sons and grandsons shall hold these honors after him until the end of time. It is moreover his command that Lord Slynt be seated immediately upon his small council, to assist in the governance of the realm. So the king has decreed. The small council consents.\"\n\nSansa glimpsed motion from the corner of her eye as Janos Slynt made his entrance. This time the muttering was louder and angrier. Proud lords whose houses went back thousands of years made way reluctantly for the balding, frog-faced commoner as he marched past. Golden scales had been sewn onto the black velvet of his doublet and rang together softly with each step. His cloak was checked black-and-gold satin. Two ugly boys who must have been his sons went before him, struggling with the weight of a heavy metal shield as tall as they were. For his sigil he had taken a bloody spear, gold on a night-black field. The sight of it raised goose prickles up and down Sansa's arms."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As Lord Slynt took his place, Grand Maester Pycelle resumed. \"Lastly, in these times of treason and turmoil, with our beloved Robert so lately dead, it is the view of the council that the life and safety of King Joffrey is of paramount importance...\" He looked to the queen.\n\nCersei stood. \"Ser Barristan Selmy, stand forth.\"\n\nSer Barristan had been standing at the foot of the Iron Throne, as still as any statue, but now he went to one knee and bowed his head. \"Your Grace, I am yours to command.\"\n\n\"Rise, Ser Barristan,\" Cersei Lannister said. \"You may remove your helm.\"\n\n\"My lady?\" Standing, the old knight took off his high white helm, though he did not seem to understand why.\n\n\"You have served the realm long and faithfully, good ser, and every man and woman in the Seven Kingdoms owes you thanks. Yet now I fear your service is at an end. It is the wish of king and council that you lay down your heavy burden.\"\n\n\"My... burden? I fear I... I do not...\"\n\nThe new-made lord, Janos Slynt, spoke up, his voice heavy and blunt. \"Her Grace is trying to tell you that you are relieved as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.\"\n\nThe tall, white-haired knight seemed to shrink as he stood there, scarcely breathing. \"Your Grace,\" he said at last. \"The Kingsguard is a Sworn Brotherhood. Our vows are taken for life. Only death may relieve the Lord Commander of his sacred trust.\"\n\n\"Whose death, Ser Barristan?\" The queen's voice was soft as silk, but her words carried the whole length of the hall. \"Yours, or your king's?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You let my father die,\" Joffrey said accusingly from atop the Iron Throne. \"You're too old to protect anybody.\"\n\nSansa watched as the knight peered up at his new king. She had never seen him look his years before, yet now he did. \"Your Grace,\" he said. \"I was chosen for the White Swords in my twenty-third year. It was all I had ever dreamed, from the moment I first took sword in hand. I gave up all claim to my ancestral keep. The girl I was towed married my cousin in my place, I had no need of land or sons, my life would be lived for the realm. Ser Gerold Hightower himself heard my vows... toward the king with all my strength... to give my blood for his... I fought beside the White Bull and Prince Lewyn of Dorne... beside Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Before I served your father, I helped shield King Aerys, and his father Jaehaerys before him... three kings...\"\n\n\"And all of them dead,\" Littlefinger pointed out.\n\n\"Your time is done,\" Cersei Lannister announced. \"Joffrey requires men around him who are young and strong. The council has determined that Ser Jaime Lannister will take your place as the Lord Commander of Sworn Brothers of the White Swords.\"\n\n\"The Kingslayer,\" Ser Barristan said, his voice hard with contempt. \"The false knight who profaned his blade with the blood of the king he had sworn to defend.\"\n\n\"Have a care for your words, ser,\" the queen warned. \"You are speaking of our beloved brother, your king's own blood.\"\n\nLord Varys spoke, gentler than the others. \"We are not unmindful of your service, good ser. Lord Tywin Lannister has generously agreed to grant you a handsome tract of land north of Lannisport, beside the sea, with gold and men sufficient to build you a stout keep, and servants to see to your every need.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Barristan looked up sharply. \"A hall to die in, and men to bury me. I thank you, my lords... but I spit upon your pity.\" He reached up and undid the clasps that held his cloak in place, and the heavy white garment slithered from his shoulders to fall in a heap on the floor. His helmet dropped with a clang. \"I am a knight,\" he told them. He opened the silver fastenings of his breastplate and let that fall as well. \"I shall die a knight.\"\n\n\"A naked knight, it would seem,\" quipped Littlefinger.\n\nThey all laughed then, Joffrey on his throne, and the lords standing attendance, Janos Slynt and Queen Cersei and Sandor Clegane and even the other men of the Kingsguard, the five who had been his brothers until a moment ago. Surely that must have hurt the most, Sansa thought. Her heart went out to the gallant old man as he stood shamed and red-faced, too angry to speak. Finally he drew his sword.\n\nSansa heard someone gasp. Ser Boros and Ser Meryn moved forward to confront him, but Ser Barristan froze them in place with a look that dripped contempt. \"Have no fear, sers, your king is safe... no thanks to you. Even now, I could cut through the five of you as easy as a dagger cuts cheese. If you would serve under the Kingslayer, not a one of you is fit to wear the white.\" He flung his sword at the foot of the Iron Throne. \"Here, boy. Melt it down and add it to the others, if you like. It will do you more good than the swords in the hands of these five. Perhaps Lord Stannis will chance to sit on it when he takes your throne.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He took the long way out, his steps ringing loud against the floor and echoing off the bare stonewalls. Lords and ladies parted to let him pass. Not until the pages had closed the great oak-and-bronze doors behind him did Sansa hear sounds again: soft voices, uneasy stirrings, the shuffle of papers from the council table. \"He called me boy,\" Joffrey said peevishly, sounding younger than his years. \"He talked about my uncle Stannis too.\"\n\n\"Idle talk,\" said Varys the eunuch. \"Without meaning...\"\n\n\"He could be making plots with my uncles. I want him seized and questioned.\" No one moved. Joffrey raised his voice. \"I said, I want him seized!\"\n\nJanos Slynt rose from the council table. \"My gold cloaks will see to it, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Good,\" said King Joffrey. Lord Janos strode from the hall, his ugly sons double-stepping to keep up as they lugged the great metal shield with the arms of House Slynt.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Littlefinger reminded the king. \"If we might resume, the seven are now six. We find ourselves in need of anew sword for your Kingsguard.\"\n\nJoffrey smiled. \"Tell them, Mother.\"\n\n\"The king and council have determined that no man in the Seven Kingdoms is more fit to guard and protect His Grace than his sworn shield, Sandor Clegane.\"\n\n\"How do you like that, dog?\" King Joffrey asked.\n\nThe Hound's scarred face was hard to read. He took along moment to consider. \"Why not? I have no lands nor wife to forsake, and who'd care if I did?\" The burned side of his mouth twisted. \"But I warn you, I'll say no knight's vows.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Sworn Brothers of the Kingsguard have always been knights,\" Ser Boros said firmly.\n\n\"Until now,\" the Hound said in his deep rasp, and Ser Boros fell silent.\n\nWhen the king's herald moved forward, Sansa realized the moment was almost at hand. She smoothed down the cloth of her skirt nervously. She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful. Her gown was the ivory silk that the queen had given her, the one Arya had ruined, but she'd had them dye it black and you couldn't seethe stain at all. She had fretted over her jewelry for hours and finally decided upon the elegant simplicity of a plain silver chain.\n\nThe herald's voice boomed out. \"If any man in this hall has other matters to set before His Grace, let him speak now or go forth and hold his silence.\"\n\nSansa quailed. Now, she told herself, I must do it now. Gods give me courage. She took one step, then another. Lords and knights stepped aside silently to let her pass, and she felt the weight of their eyes on her. I must be as strong as my lady mother. \"Your Grace,\" she called out in a soft, tremulous voice.\n\nThe height of the Iron Throne gave Joffrey a better vantage point than anyone else in the hall. He was the first to see her. \"Come forward, my lady,\" he called out, smiling.\n\nHis smile emboldened her, made her feel beautiful and strong. He does love me, he does. Sansa lifted her head and walked toward him, not too slow and not too fast. She must not let them see how nervous she was.\n\n\"The Lady Sansa, of House Stark,\" the herald cried."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She stopped under the throne, at the spot where Ser Barristan's white cloak lay puddled on the floor beside his helm and breastplate. \"Do you have some business forking and council, Sansa?\" the queen asked from the council table.\n\n\"I do.\" She knelt on the cloak, so as not to spoil her gown, and looked up at her prince on his fearsome black throne. \"As it please Your Grace, I ask mercy for my father, Lord Eddard Stark, who was the Hand of the King.\" She had practiced the words a hundred times.\n\nThe queen sighed. \"Sansa, you disappoint me. What did I tell you about traitor's blood?\"\n\n\"Your father has committed grave and terrible crimes, my lady,\" Grand Maester Pycelle intoned.\n\n\"Ah, poor sad thing,\" sighed Varys. \"She is only a babe, my lords, she does not know what she asks.\"\n\nSansa had eyes only for Joffrey. He must listen tome, he must, she thought. The king shifted on his seat. \"Let her speak,\" he commanded. \"I want to hear what she says.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Your Grace.\" Sansa smiled, ashy secret smile, just for him. He was listening. She knew he would.\n\n\"Treason is a noxious weed,\" Pycelle declared solemnly. \"It must be torn up, root and stem and seed, lest new traitors sprout from every roadside.\"\n\n\"Do you deny your father's crime?\" Lord Baelish asked.\n\n\"No, my lords.\" Sansa knew better than that. \"I know he must be punished. All I ask is mercy. I know my lord father must regret what he did. He was King Robert's friend and he loved him, you all know he loved him. He never wanted to be Hand until the king asked him. They must have lied to him. Lord Renly or Lord Stannis or... or somebody, they must have lied, otherwise...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "King Joffrey leaned forward, hands grasping the arms of the throne."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Broken sword points fanned out between his fingers. \"He said I wasn't the king. Why did he say that?\"\n\n\"His leg was broken,\" Sansa replied eagerly. \"It hurt ever so much, Maester Pycelle was giving him milk of the poppy, and they say that milk of the poppy fills your head with clouds. Otherwise he would never have said it.\"\n\nVarys said, \"A child's faith... such sweet innocence... and yet, they say wisdom oft comes from the mouths of babes.\"\n\n\"Treason is treason,\" Pycelle replied at once.\n\nJoffrey rocked restlessly on the throne. \"Mother?\"\n\nCersei Lannister considered Sansa thoughtfully. \"If Lord Eddard were to confess his crime,\" she said at last, \"we would know he had repented his folly.\"\n\nJoffrey pushed himself to his feet. Please, Sansa thought, please, please, be the king I know you are, good and kind and noble, please. \"Do you have anymore to say?\" he asked her.\n\n\"Only... that as you love me, you dome this kindness, my prince,\" Sansa said.\n\nKing Joffrey looked her up and down. \"Your sweet words have moved me,\" he said gallantly, nodding, as if to say all would be well. \"I shall do as you ask... but first your father has to confess. He has to confess and say that I'm the king, or there will be no mercy for him.\"\n\n\"He will,\" Sansa said, heart soaring. \"Oh, I know he will.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The straw on the floor stank of urine. There was no window, no bed, not even a slop bucket. He remembered walls of pale red stone festooned with patches of nitre, a grey door of splintered wood, four inches thick and studded with iron. He had seen them, briefly, a quick glimpse as they shoved him inside. Once the door had slammed shut, he had seen no more. The dark was absolute. He had as well been blind.\n\nOr dead. Buried with his king. \"Ah, Robert,\" he murmured as his groping hand touched a cold stonewall, his leg throbbing with every motion. He remembered the jest the king had shared in the crypts of Winterfell, as the Kings of Winter looked on with cold stone eyes. The king eats, Robert had said, and the Hand takes the shit. How he had laughed. Yet he had gotten it wrong. The king dies, Ned Stark thought, and the Hand is buried.\n\nThe dungeon was under the Red Keep, deeper than he dared imagine. He remembered the old stories about Maegor the Cruel, who murdered all the masons who labored on his castle, so they might never reveal its secrets.\n\nHe damned them all: Littlefinger, Janos Slynt and his gold cloaks, the queen, the Kingslayer, Pycelle and Varys and Ser Barristan, even Lord Renly, Robert's own blood, who had run when he was needed most. Yet in the end he blamed himself. \"Fool,\" he cried to the darkness, \"thrice-damned blind fool.\"\n\nCersei Lannister's face seemed to float before him in the darkness. Her hair was full of sunlight, but there was mockery in her smile. \"When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die,\" she whispered. Ned had played and lost, and his men had paid the price of his folly with their life's blood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When he thought of his daughters, he would have wept gladly, but the tears would not come."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even now, he was a Stark of Winterfell, and his grief and his rage froze hard inside him.\n\nWhen he kept very still, his leg did not hurt so much, so he did his best to lie unmoving. For how long he could not say. There was no sun and no moon. He could not see to mark the walls. Ned closed his eyes and opened them; it made no difference. He slept and woke and slept again. He did not know which was more painful, the waking or the sleeping. When he slept, he dreamed: dark disturbing dreams of blood and broken promises. When he woke, there was nothing to do but think, and his waking thoughts were worse than nightmares. The thought of Cat was as painful as abed of nettles. He wondered where she was, what she was doing. He wondered whether he would ever see her again.\n\nHours turned to days, or so it seemed. He could feel a dull ache in his shattered leg, an itch beneath the plaster. When he touched his thigh, the flesh was hot to his fingers. The only sound was his breathing. After a time, he began to talk aloud, just to hear a voice. He made plans to keep himself sane, built castles of hope in the dark. Robert's brothers were out in the world, raising armies at Dragonstone and Storm's End. Alyn and Harwin would return to King's Landing with the rest of his household guard once they had dealt with Ser Gregor. Catelyn would raise the north when the word reached her, and the lords of river and mountain and Vale would join her.\n\nHe found himself thinking of Robert more and more. He saw the king as he had been in the flower of his youth, tall and handsome, his great antlered helm on his head, his warhammer in hand, sitting his horse like a horned god. He heard his laughter in the dark, saw his eyes, blue and clear as mountain lakes. \"Look at us, Ned,\" Robert said. \"Gods, how did we come to this? You here, and me killed by a pig. We won a throne together...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I failed you, Robert, Ned thought. He could not say the words. I lied to you, hid the truth. I let them kill you.\n\nThe king heard him. \"You stiff-necked fool,\" he muttered, \"too proud to listen. Can you eat pride, Stark? Will honor shield your children?\" Cracks ran down his face, fissures opening in the flesh, and he reached up and ripped the mask away. It was not Robert at all; it was Littlefinger, grinning, mocking him. When he opened his mouth to speak, his lies turned to pale grey moths and took wing.\n\nNed was half-asleep when the footsteps came down the hall. At first he thought he dreamt them; it had been so long since he had heard anything but the sound of his own voice. Ned was feverish by then, his leg a dull agony, his lips parched and cracked. When the heavy wooden door creaked open, the sudden light was painful to his eyes.\n\nA gaoler thrust a jug at him. The clay was cool and beaded with moisture. Ned grasped it with both hands and gulped eagerly. Water ran from his mouth and dripped down through his beard. He drank until he thought he would be sick. \"How long...?\" he asked weakly when he could drink no more.\n\nThe gaoler was a scarecrow of a man with a rat's face and frayed beard, clad in a mail shirt and a leather half cape. \"No talking,\" he said as he wrenched the jug from Ned's hands.\n\n\"Please,\" Ned said, \"my daughters...\" The door crashed shut. He blinked as the light vanished, lowered his head to his chest, and curled upon the straw. It no longer stank of urine and shit. It no longer smelled at all."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could no longer tell the difference between waking and sleeping. The memory came creeping upon him in the darkness, as vivid as a dream. It was the year of false spring, and he was eighteen again, down from the Eyrie to the tourney at Harrenhal. He could seethe deep green of the grass, and smell the pollen on the wind. Warm days and cool nights and the sweet taste of wine. He remembered Brandon's laughter, and Robert's berserk valor in the melee, the way he laughed as he unhorsed men left and right. He remembered Jaime Lannister, a golden youth in scaled white armor, kneeling on the grass in front of the king's pavilion and making his vows to protect and defend King Aerys. Afterward, Ser Os well Whent helped Jaime to his feet, and the White Bull himself, Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower, fastened the snowy cloak of the Kingsguard about his shoulders. All six White Swords were thereto welcome their newest brother.\n\nYet when the jousting began, the day belonged to Rhaegar Targaryen. The crown prince wore the armor he would die in: gleaming black plate with the three-headed dragon of his House wrought in rubies on the breast. A plume of scarlet silk streamed behind him when he rode, and it seemed no lance could touch him. Brandon fell to him, and Bronze Yohn Royce, and even the splendid Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.\n\nRobert had been jesting with Jon and old Lord Hunter as the prince circled the field after unhorsing Ser Barristan in the final tilt to claim the champion's crown. Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty's laurel in Lyanna's lap. He could see it still: a crown of winter roses, blue as frost."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned Stark reached out his hand to grasp the flowery crown, but beneath the pale blue petals the thorns lay hidden. He felt them clawing at his skin, sharp and cruel, saw the slow trickle of blood rundown his fingers, and woke, trembling, in the dark.\n\nPromise me, Ned, his sister had whispered from her bed of blood. She had loved the scent of winter roses.\n\n\"Gods save me,\" Ned wept. \"I am going mad.\"\n\nThe gods did not deign to answer.\n\nEach time the turnkey brought him water, he told himself another day had passed. At first he would beg the man for some word of his daughters and the world beyond his cell. Grunts and kicks were his only replies. Later, when the stomach cramps began, he begged for food instead. It made no matter; he was not fed. Perhaps the Lannisters meant for him to starve to death. \"No,\" he told himself. If Cersei had wanted him dead, he would have been cut down in the throne room with his men. She wanted him alive. Weak, desperate, yet alive. Catelyn held her brother; she dare not kill him or the Imp's life would be forfeit as well.\n\nFrom outside his cell came the rattle of iron chains. As the door creaked open, Ned put a hand to the damp wall and pushed himself toward the light. The glare of a torch made him squint. \"Food,\" he croaked.\n\n\"Wine,\" a voice answered. It was not the rat-faced man; this gaoler was stouter, shorter, though he wore the same leather half cape and spiked steel cap. \"Drink, Lord Eddard.\" He thrust a wineskin into Ned's hands."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The voice was strangely familiar, yet it took Ned Stark a moment to place it. \"Varys?\" he said groggily when it came. He touched the man's face. \"I'm not... not dreaming this. You're here.\" The eunuch's plump cheeks were covered with a dark stubble of beard. Ned felt the coarse hair with his fingers. Varys had transformed himself into a grizzled turnkey, reeking of sweat and sour wine. \"How did you... what sort of magician are you?\"\n\n\"A thirsty one,\" Varys said. \"Drink, my lord.\"\n\nNed's hands fumbled at the skin. \"Is this the same poison they gave Robert?\"\n\n\"You wrong me,\" Varys said sadly. \"Truly, no one loves a eunuch. Give me the skin.\" He drank, a trickle of red leaking from the corner of his plump mouth. \"Not the equal of the vintage you offered me the night of the tourney, but no more poisonous than most,\" he concluded, wiping his lips. \"Here.\"\n\nNed tried a swallow. \"Dregs.\" He felt as though he were about to bring the wine backup.\n\n\"All men must swallow the sour with the sweet. High lords and eunuchs alike. Your hour has come, my lord.\"\n\n\"My daughters...\"\n\n\"The younger girl escaped Ser Meryn and fled,\" Varys told him. \"I have not been able to find her. Nor have the Lannisters. A kindness, there. Our new king loves her not. Your older girl is still betrothed to Joffrey. Cersei keeps her close. She came to court a few days ago to plead that you be spared. A pity you couldn't have been there, you would have been touched.\" He leaned forward intently. \"I trust you realize that you area dead man, Lord Eddard?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The queen will not kill me,\" Ned said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His head swam; the wine was strong, and it had been too long since he'd eaten. \"Cat... Cat holds her brother...\"\n\n\"The wrong brother,\" Varys sighed. \"And lost to her, in any case. She let the Imp slip through her fingers. I expect he is dead by now, somewhere in the Mountains of the Moon.\"\n\n\"If that is true, slit my throat and have done with it.\" He was dizzy from the wine, tired and heartsick.\n\n\"Your blood is the last thing I desire.\"\n\nNed frowned. \"When they slaughtered my guard, you stood beside the queen and watched, and said not a word.\"\n\n\"And would again. I seem to recall that I was unarmed, unarmored, and surrounded by Lannister swords.\" The eunuch looked at him curiously, tilting his head. \"When I was a young boy, before I was cut, I traveled with a troupe of mummers through the Free Cities. They taught me that each man has a role to play, in life as well as mummery. So it is at court. The King's Justice must be fearsome, the master of coin must be frugal, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard must be valiant... and the master of whisperers must be sly and obsequious and without scruple. A courageous informer would be as useless as a cowardly knight.\" He took the wineskin back and drank.\n\nNed studied the eunuch's face, searching for truth beneath the mummer's scars and false stubble. He tried some more wine. This time it went down easier. \"Can you free me from this pit?\"\n\n\"I could... but will I? No. Questions would be asked, and the answers would lead back tome.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 61"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The queen will not kill me,\" Ned said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His head swam; the wine was strong, and it had been too long since he'd eaten. \"Cat... Cat holds her brother...\"\n\n\"The wrong brother,\" Varys sighed. \"And lost to her, in any case. She let the Imp slip through her fingers. I expect he is dead by now, somewhere in the Mountains of the Moon.\"\n\n\"If that is true, slit my throat and have done with it.\" He was dizzy from the wine, tired and heartsick.\n\n\"Your blood is the last thing I desire.\"\n\nNed frowned. \"When they slaughtered my guard, you stood beside the queen and watched, and said not a word.\"\n\n\"And would again. I seem to recall that I was unarmed, unarmored, and surrounded by Lannister swords.\" The eunuch looked at him curiously, tilting his head. \"When I was a young boy, before I was cut, I traveled with a troupe of mummers through the Free Cities. They taught me that each man has a role to play, in life as well as mummery. So it is at court. The King's Justice must be fearsome, the master of coin must be frugal, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard must be valiant... and the master of whisperers must be sly and obsequious and without scruple. A courageous informer would be as useless as a cowardly knight.\" He took the wineskin back and drank.\n\nNed studied the eunuch's face, searching for truth beneath the mummer's scars and false stubble. He tried some more wine. This time it went down easier. \"Can you free me from this pit?\"\n\n\"I could... but will I? No. Questions would be asked, and the answers would lead back tome.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ned had expected no more."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are blunt.\"\n\n\"A eunuch has no honor, and a spider does not enjoy the luxury of scruples, my lord.\"\n\n\"Would you at least consent to carry a message out for me?\"\n\n\"That would depend on the message. I will gladly provide you with paper and ink, if you like. And when you have written what you will, I will take the letter and read it, and deliver it or not, as best serves my own ends.\"\n\n\"Your own ends. What ends are those, Lord Varys?\"\n\n\"Peace,\" Varys replied without hesitation. \"If there was one soul in King's Landing who was truly desperate to keep Robert Baratheon alive, it was me.\" He sighed. \"For fifteen years I protected him from his enemies, but I could not protect him from his friends. What strange fit of madness led you to tell the queen that you had learned the truth of Joffrey's birth?\"\n\n\"The madness of mercy,\" Ned admitted.\n\n\"Ah,\" said Varys. \"To be sure. You are an honest and honorable man, Lord Eddard. Ofttimes I forget that. I have met so few of them in my life.\" He glanced around the cell. \"When I see what honesty and honor have won you, I understand why.\"\n\nNed Stark laid his head back against the damp stonewall and closed his eyes. His leg was throbbing. \"The king's wine... did you question Lancel?\"\n\n\"Oh, indeed. Cersei gave him the wineskins, and told him it was Robert's favorite vintage.\" The eunuch shrugged. \"A hunter lives a perilous life. If the boar had not done for Robert, it would have been a fall from a horse, the bite of a wood adder, an arrow gone astray... the forest is the abbatoir of the gods. It was not wine that killed the king. It was your mercy.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned had feared as much. \"Gods forgive me.\"\n\n\"If there are gods,\" Varys said, \"I expect they will. The queen would not have waited long in any case. Robert was becoming unruly, and she needed to be rid of him to free her hands to deal with his brothers. They are quite a pair, Stannis and Renly. The iron gauntlet and the silk glove.\" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. \"You have been foolish, my lord. You ought to have heeded Littlefinger when he urged you to support Joffrey's succession.\"\n\n\"How... how could you know of that?\"\n\nVarys smiled. \"I know, that's all that need concern you. I also know that on the morrow the queen will pay you a visit.\"\n\nSlowly Ned raised his eyes. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Cersei is frightened of you, my lord... but she has other enemies she fears even more. Her beloved Jaime is fighting the river lords even now. Lysa Arryn sits in the Eyrie, ringed in stone and steel, and there is no love lost between her and the queen. In Dorne, the Martells still brood on the murder of Princess Elia and her babes. And now your son marches down the Neck with a northern host at his back.\"\n\n\"Robb is only a boy,\" Ned said, aghast.\n\n\"A boy with an army,\" Varys said. \"Yet only a boy, as you say. The king's brothers are the ones giving Cersei sleepless nights... Lord Stannis in particular. His claim is the true one, he is known for his prowess as a battle commander, and he is utterly without mercy. There is no creature on earth half so terrifying as a truly just man. No one knows what Stannis has been doing on Dragonstone, but I will wager you that he's gathered more swords than seashells. So here is Cersei's nightmare: while her father and brother spend their power battling Starks and Tullys, Lord Stannis will land, proclaim himself king, and lop off her son's curly blond head... and her own in the bargain, though I truly believe she cares more about the boy.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Stannis Baratheon is Robert's true heir,\" Ned said. \"The throne is his by rights. I would welcome his ascent.\"\n\nVarys tsked. \"Cersei will not want to hear that, I promise you. Stannis may win the throne, but only your rotting head will remain to cheer unless you guard that tongue of yours. Sansa begged so sweetly, it would be a shame if you threw it all away. You are being given your life back, if you'll take it. Cersei is no fool. She knows a tame wolf is of more use than a dead one.\"\n\n\"You want me to serve the woman who murdered my king, butchered my men, and crippled my son?\" Ned's voice was thick with disbelief.\n\n\"I want you to serve the realm,\" Varys said. \"Tell the queen that you will confess your vile treason, command your son to lay down his sword, and proclaim Joffrey as the true heir. Offer to denounce Stannis and Renly as faithless usurpers. Our green-eyed lioness knows you area man of honor. If you will give her the peace she needs and the time to deal with Stannis, and pledge to carry her secret to your grave, I believe she will allow you to take the black and live out the rest of your days on the Wall, with your brother and that baseborn son of yours.\"\n\nThe thought of Jon filled Ned with a sense of shame, and a sorrow too deep for words. If only he could seethe boy again, sit and talk with him... pain shot through his broken leg, beneath the filthy grey plaster of his cast. He winced, his fingers opening and closing helplessly. \"Is this your own scheme,\" he gasped out at Varys, \"or are you in league with Littlefinger?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That seemed to amuse the eunuch. \"I would sooner wed the Black Goat of Qohor. Littlefinger is the second most devious man in the Seven Kingdoms. Oh, I feed him choice whispers, sufficient so that he thinks I am his... just as I allow Cersei to believe I am hers.\"\n\n\"And just as you let me believe that you were mine. Tell me, Lord Varys, who do you truly serve?\"\n\nVarys smiled thinly. \"Why, the realm, my good lord, however could you doubt that? I swear it by my lost manhood. I serve the realm, and the realm needs peace.\" He finished the last swallow of wine, and tossed the empty skin aside. \"So what is your answer, Lord Eddard? Give me your word that you'll tell the queen what she wants to hear when she comes calling.\"\n\n\"If I did, my word would be as hollow as an empty suit of armor. My life is not so precious tome as that.\"\n\n\"Pity.\" The eunuch stood. \"And your daughter's life, my lord? How precious is that?\"\n\nA chill pierced Ned's heart. \"My daughter...\"\n\n\"Surely you did not think I'd forgotten about your sweet innocent, my lord? The queen most certainly has not.\"\n\n\"No,\" Ned pleaded, his voice cracking. \"Varys, gods have mercy, do as you like with me, but leave my daughter out of your schemes. Sansa's no more than a child.\"\n\n\"Rhaenys was a child too. Prince Rhaegar's daughter. A precious little thing, younger than your girls. She had a small black kitten she called Balerion, did you know? I always wondered what happened to him. Rhaenys liked to pretend he was the true Balerion, the Black Dread of old, but I imagine the Lannisters taught her the difference between a kitten and a dragon quick enough, the day they broke down her door.\" Varys gave along weary sigh, the sigh of a man who carried all the sadness of the world in a sack upon his shoulders. \" The High Septon once told me that as we sin, so do we suffer. If that's true, Lord Eddard, tell me... why is it always the innocents who suffer most, when you high lords play your game of thrones? Ponder it, if you would, while you wait upon the queen. And spare a thought for this as well: The next visitor who calls on you could bring you bread and cheese and the milk of the poppy for your pain... or he could bring you Sansa's head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The choice, my dear lord Hand, is entirely yours.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As the host trooped down the causeway through the black bogs of the Neck and spilled out into the riverlands beyond, Catelyn's apprehensions grew. She masked her fears behind a face kept still and stern, yet they were there all the same, growing with every league they crossed. Her days were anxious, her nights restless, and every raven that flew overhead made her clench her teeth.\n\nShe feared for her lord father, and wondered at his ominous silence. She feared for her brother Edmure, and prayed that the gods would watch over him if he must face the Kingslayer in battle. She feared for Ned and her girls, and for the sweet sons she had left behind at Winterfell. And yet there was nothing she could do for any of them, and so she made herself put all thought of them aside. You must save your strength for Robb, she told herself. He is the only one you can help. You must be as fierce and hard as the north, Catelyn Tully. You must be a Stark for true now, like your son.\n\nRobb rode at the front of the column, beneath the flapping white banner of Winterfell. Each day he would ask one of his lords to join him, so they might confer as they marched; he honored every man in turn, showing no favorites, listening as his lord father had listened, weighing the words of one against the other. He has learned so much from Ned, she thought as she watched him, but has he learned enough?\n\nThe Blackfish had taken a hundred picked men and a hundred swift horses and raced ahead to screen their movements and scout the way. The reports Ser Brynden's riders brought back did little to reassure her. Lord Tywin's host was still many days to the south... but Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing, had assembled a force of near four thousand men at his castles on the Green Fork."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Late again,\" Catelyn murmured when she heard. It was the Trident allover, damn the man. Her brother Edmure had called the banners; by rights, Lord Frey should have gone to join the Tully host at Riverrun, yet here he sat.\n\n\"Four thousand men,\" Robb repeated, more perplexed than angry. \"Lord Frey cannot hope to fight the Lannisters by himself. Surely he means to join his power to ours.\"\n\n\"Does he?\" Catelyn asked. She had ridden forward to join Robb and Robett Glover, his companion of the day. The vanguard spread out behind them, a slow-moving forest of lances and banners and spears. \"I wonder. Expect nothing of Walder Frey, and you will never be surprised.\"\n\n\"He's your father's bannerman.\"\n\n\"Some men take their oaths more seriously than others, Robb. And Lord Walder was always friendlier with Casterly Rock than my father would have liked. One of his sons is wed to Tywin Lannister's sister. That means little of itself, to be sure. Lord Walder has sired a great many children over the years, and they must needs marry someone. Still...\"\n\n\"Do you think he means to betray us to the Lannisters, my lady?\" Robett Glover asked gravely.\n\nCatelyn sighed. \"If truth be told, I doubt even Lord Frey knows what Lord Frey intends to do. He has an old man's caution and a young man's ambition, and has never lacked for cunning.\"\n\n\"We must have the Twins, Mother,\" Robb said heatedly. \"There is no other way across the river. You know that.\"\n\n\"Yes. And so does Walder Frey, you can be sure of that.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That night they made camp on the southern edge of the bogs, halfway between the kingsroad and the river. It was there Theon Greyjoy brought them further word from her uncle. \"Ser Brynden says to tell you he's crossed swords with the Lannisters. There area dozen scouts who won't be reporting back to Lord Tywin anytime soon. Or ever.\" He grinned. \"Ser Addam Marbrand commands their outriders, and he's pulling back south, burning as he goes. He knows where we are, more or less, but the Blackfish vows he will not know when we split.\"\n\n\"Unless Lord Frey tells him,\" Catelyn said sharply. \"Theon, when you return to my uncle, tell him he is to place his best bowmen around the Twins, day and night, with orders to bring down any raven they see leaving the battlements. I want no birds bringing word of my son's movements to Lord Tywin.\"\n\n\"Ser Brynden has seen to it already, my lady,\" Theon replied with a cocky smile. \"A few more blackbirds, and we should have enough to bake a pie. I'll save you their feathers fora hat.\"\n\nShe ought to have known that Brynden Blackfish would be well ahead of her. \"What have the Freys been doing while the Lannisters burn their fields and plunder their holdfasts?\"\n\n\"There's been some fighting between Ser Addam's men and Lord Walder's,\" Theon answered. \"Not a day's ride from here, we found two Lannister scouts feeding the crows where the Freys had strung them up. Most of Lord Walder's strength remains massed at the Twins, though.\"\n\nThat bore Walder Frey's seal beyond a doubt, Catelyn thought bitterly; hold back, wait, watch, take no risk unless forced to it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If he's been fighting the Lannisters, perhaps he does mean to hold to his vows,\" Robb said.\n\nCatelyn was less encouraged. \"Defending his own lands is one thing, open battle against Lord Tywin quite another.\"\n\nRobb turned back to Theon Greyjoy. \"Has the Blackfish found any other way across the Green Fork?\"\n\nTheon shook his head. \"The river's running high and fast. Ser Brynden says it can't be forded, not this far north.\"\n\n\"I must have that crossing!\" Robb declared, fuming. \"Oh, our horses might be able to swim the river, I suppose, but not with armored men on their backs. We'd need to build rafts to pole our steel across, helms and mail and lances, and we don't have the trees for that. Or the time. Lord Tywin is marching north...\" He balled his hand into a fist.\n\n\"Lord Frey would be a fool to try and bar our way,\" Theon Greyjoy said with his customary easy confidence. \"We have five times his numbers. You can take the Twins if you need to, Robb.\"\n\n\"Not easily,\" Catelyn warned them, \"and not in time. While you were mounting your siege, Tywin Lannister would bring up his host and assault you from the rear.\"\n\nRobb glanced from her to Greyjoy, searching for an answer and finding none. Fora moment he looked even younger than his fifteen years, despite his mail and sword and the stubble on his cheeks. \"What would my lord father do?\" he asked her.\n\n\"Find away across,\" she told him. \"Whatever it took.\"\n\nThe next morning it was Ser Brynden Tully himself who rode back to them. He had put aside the heavy plate and helm he'd worn as the Knight of the Gate for the lighter leather-and-mail of an outrider, but his obsidian fish still fastened his cloak."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her uncle's face was grave as he swung down off his horse. \"There has been a battle under the walls of Riverrun,\" he said, his mouth grim. \"We had it from a Lannister outrider we took captive. The Kingslayer has destroyed Edmure's host and sent the lords of the Trident reeling in flight.\"\n\nA cold hand clutched at Catelyn's heart. \"And my brother?\"\n\n\"Wounded and taken prisoner,\" Ser Brynden said. \"Lord Blackwood and the other survivors are under siege inside Riverrun, surrounded by Jaime's host.\"\n\nRobb looked fretful. \"We must get across this accursed river if we're to have any hope of relieving them in time.\"\n\n\"That will not be easily done,\" her uncle cautioned. \"Lord Frey has pulled his whole strength back inside his castles, and his gates are closed and barred.\"\n\n\"Damn the man,\" Robb swore. \"If the old fool does not relent and let me cross, he'll leave me no choice but to storm his walls. I'll pull the Twins down around his ears if I have to, we'll see how well he likes that!\"\n\n\"You sound like a sulky boy, Robb,\" Catelyn said sharply. \"A child sees an obstacle, and his first thought is to runaround it or knock it down. A lord must learn that sometimes words can accomplish what swords cannot.\"\n\nRobb's neck reddened at the rebuke. \"Tell me what you mean, Mother,\" he said meekly.\n\n\"The Freys have held the crossing for six hundred years, and for six hundred years they have never failed to exact their toll.\"\n\n\"What toll? What does he want?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She smiled. \"That is what we must discover.\"\n\n\"And what if I do not choose to pay this toll?\"\n\n\"Then you had best retreat back to Moat Cailin, deploy to meet Lord Tywin in battle... or grow wings. I see no other choices.\" Catelyn put her heels to her horse and rode off, leaving her son to ponder her words. It would not do to make him feel as if his mother were usurping his place. Did you teach him wisdom as well as valor, Ned? she wondered. Did you teach him how to kneel? The graveyards of the Seven Kingdoms were full of brave men who had never learned that lesson.\n\nIt was near midday when their vanguard came insight of the Twins, where the Lords of the Crossing had their seat.\n\nThe Green Fork ran swift and deep here, but the Freys had spanned it many centuries past and grown rich off the coin men paid them to cross. Their bridge was a massive arch of smooth grey rock, wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast; the Water Tower rose from the center of the span, commanding both road and river with its arrow slits, murder holes, and portcullises. It had taken the Freys three generations to complete their bridge; when they were done they'd thrown up stout timber keeps on either bank, so no one might cross without their leave.\n\nThe timber had long since given way to stone. The Twins-two squat, ugly, formidable castles, identical in every respect, with the bridge arching between-had guarded the crossing for centuries. High curtain walls, deep moats, and heavy oak-and-iron gates protected the approaches, the bridge footings rose from within stout inner keeps, there was a barbican and portcullis on either bank, and the Water Tower defended the span itself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One glance was sufficient to tell Catelyn that the castle would not betaken by storm. The battlements bristled with spears and swords and scorpions, there was an archer at every crenel and arrow slit, the drawbridge was up, the portcullis down, the gates closed and barred.\n\nThe Greatjon began to curse and swear as soon as he saw what awaited them. Lord Rickard Karstark glowered in silence. \"That cannot be assaulted, my lords,\" Roose Bolton announced.\n\n\"Nor can we take it by siege, without an army on the far bank to invest the other castle,\" Helman Tallhart said gloomily. Across the deep-running green waters, the western twin stood like a reflection of its eastern brother. \"Even if we had the time. Which, to be sure, we do not.\"\n\nAs the northern lords studied the castle, a sally port opened, a plank bridge slid across the moat, and a dozen knights rode forth to confront them, led by four of Lord Walder's many sons. Their banner bore twin towers, dark blue on afield of pale silver-grey. Ser Stevron Frey, Lord Walder's heir, spoke for them. The Freys all looked like weasels; Ser Stevron, past sixty with grandchildren of his own, looked like an especially old and tired weasel, yet he was polite enough. \"My lord father has sent me to greet you, and inquire as to who leads this mighty host.\"\n\n\"I do.\" Robb spurred his horse forward. He was in his armor, with the direwolf shield of Winterfell strapped to his saddle and Grey Wind padding by his side.\n\nThe old knight looked at her son with a faint flicker of amusement in his watery grey eyes, though his gelding whickered uneasily and sidled away from the direwolf. \"My lord father would be most honored if you would share meat and mead with him in the castle and explain your purpose here.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His words crashed among the lords bannermen like a great stone from a catapult."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not one of them approved. They cursed, argued, shouted down each other.\n\n\"You must not do this, my lord,\" Galbart Glover pleaded with Robb. \"Lord Walder is not to be trusted.\"\n\nRoose Bolton nodded. \"Go in there alone and you're his. He can sell you to the Lannisters, throw you in a dungeon, or slit your throat, as he likes.\"\n\n\"If he wants to talk to us, let him open his gates, and we will all share his meat and mead,\" declared Ser Wendel Manderly.\n\n\"Or let him come out and treat with Robb here, in plain sight of his men and ours,\" suggested his brother, Ser Wylis.\n\nCatelyn Stark shared all their doubts, but she had only to glance at Ser Stevron to see that he was not pleased by what he was hearing. A few more words and the chance would be lost. She had to act, and quickly. \"I will go,\" she said loudly.\n\n\"You, my lady?\" The Greatjon furrowed his brow.\n\n\"Mother, are you certain?\" Clearly, Robb was not.\n\n\"Nevermore,\" Catelyn lied glibly. \"Lord Walder is my father's bannerman. I have known him since I was a girl. He would never offer meany harm.\" Unless he saw some profit in it, she added silently, but some truths did not bear saying, and some lies were necessary.\n\n\"I am certain my lord father would be pleased to speak to the Lady Catelyn,\" Ser Stevron said. \"To vouchsafe for our good intentions, my brother Ser Perwyn will remain here until she is safely returned to you.\"\n\n\"He shall be our honored guest,\" said Robb. Ser Perwyn, the youngest of the four Freys in the party, dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a brother. \"I require my lady mother's return by evenfall, Ser Stevron,\" Robb went on. \"It is not my intent to linger here long.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Stevron Frey gave a polite nod. \"As you say, my lord.\" Catelyn spurred her horse forward and did not look back. Lord Walder's sons and envoys fell in around her.\n\nHer father had once said of Walder Frey that he was the only lord in the Seven Kingdoms who could field an army out of his breeches. When the Lord of the Crossing welcomed Catelyn in the great hall of the east castle, surrounded by twenty living sons (minus Ser Perwyn, who would have made twenty-one), thirty-six grandsons, nineteen great-grandsons, and numerous daughters, granddaughters, bastards, and grandbastards, she understood just what he had meant.\n\nLord Walder was ninety, a wizened pink weasel with a bald spotted head, too gouty to stand unassisted. His newest wife, a pale frail girl of sixteen years, walked beside his litter when they carried him in. She was the eighth Lady Frey.\n\n\"It is a great pleasure to see you again after so many years, my lord,\" Catelyn said.\n\nThe old man squinted at her suspiciously. \"Is it? I doubt that. Spare me your sweet words, Lady Catelyn, I am too old. Why are you here? Is your boy too proud to come before me himself? What am Ito do with you?\"\n\nCatelyn had been a girl the last time she had visited the Twins, but even then Lord Walder had been irascible, sharp of tongue, and blunt of manner. Age had made him worse than ever, it would seem. She would need to choose her words with care, and do her best to take no offense from his.\n\n\"Father,\" Ser Stevron said reproachfully, \"you forget yourself. Lady Stark is here at your invitation.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did I ask you? You are not Lord Frey yet, not until I die. Do I look dead? I'll hear no instructions from you.\"\n\n\"This is noway to speak in front of our noble guest, Father,\" one of his younger sons said.\n\n\"Now my bastards presume to teach me courtesy,\" Lord Walder complained. \"I'll speak anyway I like, damn you. I've had three kings to guest in my life, and queens as well, do you think I require lessons from the likes of you, Ryger? Your mother was milking goats the first time I gave her my seed.\" He dismissed the red-faced youth with a flick of his fingers and gestured to two of his other sons. \"Danwell, Whalen, help me to my chair.\"\n\nThey shifted Lord Walder from his litter and carried him to the high seat of the Freys, a tall chair of black oak whose back was carved in the shape of two towers linked by abridge. His young wife crept up timidly and covered his legs with a blanket. When he was settled, the old man beckoned Catelyn forward and planted a papery dry kiss on her hand. \"There,\" he announced. \"Now that I have observed the courtesies, my lady, perhaps my sons will dome the honor of shutting their mouths. Why are you here?\"\n\n\"To ask you to open your gates, my lord,\" Catelyn replied politely. \"My son and his lords bannermen are most anxious to cross the river and be on their way.\"\n\n\"To Riverrun?\" He sniggered. \"Oh, no need to tell me, no need. I'm not blind yet. The old man can still read a map.\"\n\n\"To Riverrun,\" Catelyn confirmed. She saw no reason to deny it. \"Where I might have expected to find you, my lord. You are still my father's bannerman, are you not?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Heh,\" said Lord Walder, a noise halfway between a laugh and a grunt."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I called my swords, yes I did, here they are, you saw them on the walls. It was my intent to march as soon as all my strength was assembled. Well, to send my sons. I am well past marching myself, Lady Catelyn.\" He looked around for likely confirmation and pointed to a tall, stooped man of fifty years. \"Tell her, Jared. Tell her that was my intent.\"\n\n\"It was, my lady,\" said Ser Jared Frey, one of his sons by his second wife. \"On my honor.\"\n\n\"Is it my fault that your fool brother lost his battle before we could march?\" He leaned back against his cushions and scowled at her, as if challenging her to dispute his version of events. \"I am told the Kingslayer went through him like an axe through ripe cheese. Why should my boys hurry south to die? All those who did go south are running north again.\"\n\nCatelyn would gladly have spitted the querulous old man and roasted him over afire, but she had only till evenfall to open the bridge. Calmly, she said, \"All the more reason that we must reach Riverrun, and soon. Where can we go to talk, my lord?\"\n\n\"We're talking now,\" Lord Frey complained. The spotted pink head snapped around. \"What are you all looking at?\" he shouted at his kin. \"Get out of here. Lady Stark wants to speak tome in private. Might be she has designs on my fidelity, heh. Go, all of you, find something useful to do. Yes, you too, woman. Out, out, out.\" As his sons and grandsons and daughters and bastards and nieces and nephews streamed from the hall, he leaned close to Catelyn and confessed, \"They're all waiting for me to die. Stevron's been waiting for forty years, but I keep disappointing him. Heh. Why should I die just so he can be a lord? I ask you. I won't do it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have every hope that you will live to be a hundred.\"\n\n\"That would boil them, to be sure. Oh, to be sure. Now, what do you want to say?\"\n\n\"We want to cross,\" Catelyn told him.\n\n\"Oh, do you? That's blunt. Why should I let you?\"\n\nFora moment her anger flared. \"If you were strong enough to climb your own battlements, Lord Frey, you would see that my son has twenty thousand men outside your walls.\"\n\n\"They'll be twenty thousand fresh corpses when Lord Tywin gets here,\" the old man shot back. \"Don't you try and frighten me, my lady. Your husband's in some traitor's cell under the Red Keep, your father's sick, might be dying, and Jaime Lannister's got your brother in chains. What do you have that I should fear? That son of yours? I'll match you son for son, and I'll still have eighteen when yours are all dead.\"\n\n\"You swore an oath to my father,\" Catelyn reminded him.\n\nHe bobbed his head side to side, smiling. \"Oh, yes, I said some words, but I swore oaths to the crown too, it seems tome. Joffrey's the king now, and that makes you and your boy and all those fools out there no better than rebels. If I had the sense the gods gave a fish, I'd help the Lannisters boil you all.\"\n\n\"Why don't you?\" she challenged him.\n\nLord Walder snorted with disdain. \"Lord Tywin the proud and splendid, Warden of the West, Hand of the King, oh, what a great man that one is, him and his gold this and gold that and lions here and lions there. I'll wager you, he eats too many beans, he breaks wind just like me, but you'll never hear him admit it, oh, no. What's he got to be so puffed up about anyway? Only two sons, and one of them's a twisted little monster. I'll match him son for son, and I'll still have nineteen and a half left when all of his are dead!\" He cackled. \"If Lord Tywin wants my help, he can bloody well ask for it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was all Catelyn needed to hear. \"I am asking for your help, my lord,\" she said humbly. \"And my father and my brother and my lord husband and my sons are asking with my voice.\"\n\nLord Walder jabbed a bony finger at her face. \"Save your sweet words, my lady. Sweet words I get from my wife. Did you see her? Sixteen she is, a little flower, and her honey's only for me. I wager she gives me a son by this time next year. Perhaps I'll make him heir, wouldn't that boil the rest of them?\"\n\n\"I'm certain she will give you many sons.\"\n\nHis head bobbed up and down. \" Your lord father did not come to the wedding. An insult, as I see it. Even if he is dying. He never came to my last wedding either. He calls me the Late Lord Frey, you know. Does he think I'm dead? I'm not dead, and I promise you, I'll outlive him as I outlived his father. Your family has always pissed on me, don't deny it, don't lie, you know it's true. Years ago, I went to your father and suggested a match between his son and my daughter. Why not? I had a daughter in mind, sweet girl, only a few years older than Edmure, but if your brother didn't warm to her, I had others he might have had, young ones, old ones, virgins, widows, whatever he wanted. No, Lord Hoster would not hear of it. Sweet words he gave me, excuses, but what I wanted was to get rid of a daughter.\n\n\"And your sister, that one, she's full as bad. It was, oh, a year ago, no more, Jon Arryn was still the King's Hand, and I went to the city to see my sons ride in the tourney. Stevron and Jared are too old for the lists now, but Danwell and Hosteen rode, Perwyn as well, and a couple of my bastards tried the melee. If I'd known how they'd shame me, I would never have troubled myself to make the journey. Why did I need to ride all that way to see Hosteen knocked off his horse by that Tyrell whelp? I ask you. The boy's half his age, Ser Daisy they call him, something like that. And Danwell was unhorsed by a hedge knight! Some days I wonder if those two are truly mine. My third wife was a Crakehall, all of the Crakehall women are sluts. Well, never mind about that, she died before you were born, what do you care?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I was speaking of your sister. I proposed that Lord and Lady Arryn foster two of my grandsons at court, and offered to take their own son toward here at the Twins. Are my grandsons unworthy to be seen at the king's court? They are sweet boys, quiet and mannerly. Walder is Merrett's son, named after me, and the other one... heh, I don't recall... he might have been another Walder, they're always naming them Walder so I'll favor them, but his father... which one was his father now?\" His face wrinkled up. \"Well, whoever he was, Lord Arryn wouldn't have him, or the other one, and I blame your lady sister for that. She frosted up as if I'd suggested selling her boy to a mummer's show or making a eunuch out of him, and when Lord Arryn said the child was going to Dragonstone to foster with Stannis Baratheon, she stormed off without a word of regrets and all the Hand could give me was apologies. What good are apologies? I ask you.\"\n\nCatelyn frowned, disquieted. \"I had understood that Lysa's boy was to be fostered with Lord Tywin at Casterly Rock.\"\n\n\"No, it was Lord Stannis,\" Walder Frey said irritably. \"Do you think I can't tell Lord Stannis from Lord Tywin? They're both bungholes who think they're too noble to shit, but never mind about that, I know the difference. Or do you think I'm so old I can't remember? I'm ninety and I remember very well. I remember what to do with a woman too. That wife of mine will give me a son before this time next year, I'll wager. Ora daughter, that can't be helped. Boy or girl, it will be red, wrinkled, and squalling, and like as not she'll want to name it Walder or Walda.\""
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn was not concerned with what Lady Frey might choose to name her child. \"Jon Arryn was going to foster his son with Lord Stannis, you are quite certain of that?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, yes,\" the old man said. \"Only he died, so what does it matter? You say you want to cross the river?\"\n\n\"We do.\"\n\n\"Well, you can't!\" Lord Walder announced crisply. \"Not unless I allow it, and why should I? The Tullys and the Starks have never been friends of mine.\" He pushed himself back in his chair and crossed his arms, smirking, waiting for her answer.\n\nThe rest was only haggling.\n\nA swollen red sun hung low against the western hills when the gates of the castle opened. The drawbridge creaked down, the portcullis winched up, and Lady Catelyn Stark rode forth to rejoin her son and his lords bannermen. Behind her came Ser Jared Frey, Ser Hosteen Frey, Ser Danwell Frey, and Lord Walder's bastard son Ronel Rivers, leading along column of pikemen, rank on rank of shuffling men in blue steel ringmail and silvery grey cloaks.\n\nRobb galloped out to meet her, with Grey Wind racing beside his stallion. \"It's done,\" she told him. \"Lord Walder will grant you your crossing. His swords are yours as well, less four hundred he means to keep back to hold the Twins. I suggest that you leave four hundred of your own, a mixed force of archers and swordsmen. He can scarcely object to an offer to augment his garrison... but make certain you give the command to a man you can trust. Lord Walder may need help keeping faith.\"\n\n\"As you say, Mother,\" Robb answered, gazing at the ranks of pikemen. \"Perhaps... Ser Helman Tallhart, do you think?\""
},
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"value": "\"A fine choice.\"\n\n\"What... what did he want of us?\"\n\n\"If you can spare a few of your swords, I need some men to escort two of Lord Frey's grandsons north to Winterfell,\" she told him. \"I have agreed to take them as wards. They are young boys, aged eight years and seven. It would seem they are both named Walder. Your brother Bran will welcome the companionship of lads near his own age, I should think.\"\n\n\"Is that all? Two fosterlings? That's a small enough price to-\"\n\n\"Lord Frey's son Olyvar will becoming with us,\" she went on. \"He is to serve as your personal squire. His father would like to see him knighted, in good time.\"\n\n\"A squire.\" He shrugged. \"Fine, that's fine, if he's-\"\n\n\"Also, if your sister Arya is returned to us safely, it is agreed that she will marry Lord Walder's youngest son, Elmar, when the two of them come of age.\"\n\nRobb looked nonplussed. \"Arya won't like that one bit.\"\n\n\"And you are towed one of his daughters, once the fighting is done,\" she finished. \"His lordship has graciously consented to allow you to choose whichever girl you prefer. He has a number he thinks might be suitable.\"\n\nTo his credit, Robb did not flinch. \"I see.\"\n\n\"Do you consent?\"\n\n\"Can I refuse?\"\n\n\"Not if you wish to cross.\"\n\n\"I consent,\" Robb said solemnly. He had never seemed more manly to her than he did in that moment. Boys might play with swords, but it took a lord to make a marriage pact, knowing what it meant."
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"value": "They crossed at evenfall as a horned moon floated upon the river. The double column wound its way through the gate of the eastern twin like a great steel snake, slithering across the courtyard, into the keep and over the bridge, to issue forth once more from the second castle on the west bank.\n\nCatelyn rode at the head of the serpent, with her son and her uncle Ser Brynden and Ser Stevron Frey. Behind followed nine tenths of their horse; knights, lancers, freeriders, and mounted bowmen. It took hours for them all to cross. Afterward, Catelyn would remember the clatter of countless hooves on the drawbridge, the sight of Lord Walder Frey in his litter watching them pass, the glitter of eyes peering down through the slats of the murder holes in the ceiling as they rode through the Water Tower.\n\nThe larger part of the northern host, pikes and archers and great masses of men-at-arms on foot, remained upon the east bank under the command of Roose Bolton. Robb had commanded him to continue the march south, to confront the huge Lannister army coming north under Lord Tywin.\n\nFor good or ill, her son had thrown the dice."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "\"Are you well, Snow?\" Lord Mormont asked, scowling.\n\n\"Well,\" his raven squawked. \"Well.\"\n\n\"I am, my lord,\" Jon lied... loudly, as if that could make it true. \"And you?\"\n\nMormont frowned. \"A dead man tried to kill me. How well could I be?\" He scratched under his chin. His shaggy grey beard had been singed in the fire, and he'd hacked it off. The pale stubble of his new whiskers made him look old, disreputable, and grumpy. \"You do not look well. How is your hand?\"\n\n\"Healing.\" Jon flexed his bandaged fingers to show him. He had burned himself more badly than he knew throwing the flaming drapes, and his right hand was swathed in silk halfway to the elbow. At the time he'd felt nothing; the agony had come after. His cracked redskin oozed fluid, and fearsome blood blisters rose between his fingers, big as roaches. \"The maester says I'll have scars, but otherwise the hand should be as good as it was before.\"\n\n\"A scarred hand is nothing. On the Wall, you'll be wearing gloves often as not.\"\n\n\"As you say, my lord.\" It was not the thought of scars that troubled Jon; it was the rest of it. Maester Aemon had given him milk of the poppy, yet even so, the pain had been hideous. At first it had felt as if his hand were still aflame, burning day and night. Only plunging it into basins of snow and shaved ice gave any relief at all. Jon thanked the gods that no one but Ghost saw him writhing on his bed, whimpering from the pain. And when at last he did sleep, he dreamt, and that was even worse. In the dream, the corpse he fought had blue eyes, black hands, and his father's face, but he dared not tell Mormont that."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Dywen and Hake returned last night,\" the Old Bear said. \"They found no sign of your uncle, no more than the others did.\"\n\n\"I know.\" Jon had dragged himself to the common hall to sup with his friends, and the failure of the rangers' search had been all the men had been talking of.\n\n\"You know,\" Mormont grumbled. \"How is it that everyone knows everything around here?\" He did not seem to expect an answer. \"It would seem there were only the two of... of those creatures, whatever they were, I will not call them men. And thank the gods for that. Anymore and... well, that doesn't bear thinking of. There will be more, though. I can feel it in these old bones of mine, and Maester Aemon agrees. The cold winds are rising. Summer is at an end, and a winter is coming such as this world has never seen.\"\n\nWinter is coming. The Stark words had never sounded so grim or ominous to Jonas they did now. \"My lord,\" he asked hesitantly, \"it's said there was a bird last night...\"\n\n\"There was. What of it?\"\n\n\"I had hoped for some word of my father.\"\n\n\"Father,\" taunted the old raven, bobbing its head as it walked across Mormont's shoulders. \"Father.\"\n\nThe Lord Commander reached up to pinch its beak shut, but the raven hopped upon his head, fluttered its wings, and flew across the chamber to light above a window. \"Grief and noise,\" Mormont grumbled. \"That's all they're good for, ravens. Why I put up with that pestilential bird... if there was news of Lord Eddard, don't you think I would have sent for you? Bastard or no, you're still his blood. The message concerned Ser Barristan Selmy. It seems he's been removed from the Kingsguard. They gave his place to that black dog Clegane, and now Selmy's wanted for treason. The fools sent some watchmen to seize him, but he slew two of them and escaped.\" Mormont snorted, leaving no doubt of his view of men who'd send gold cloaks against a knight as renowed as Barristan the Bold. \"We have white shadows in the woods and unquiet dead stalking our halls, and a boy sits the Iron Throne,\" he said in disgust."
},
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"value": "The raven laughed shrilly. \"Boy, boy, boy, boy.\"\n\nSer Barristan had been the Old Bear's best hope, Jon remembered; if he had fallen, what chance was there that Mormont's letter would be heeded? He curled his hand into a fist. Pain shot through his burned fingers. \"What of my sisters?\"\n\n\"The message made no mention of Lord Eddard or the girls.\" He gave an irritated shrug. \"Perhaps they never got my letter. Aemon sent two copies, with his best birds, but who can say? More like, Pycelle did not deign to reply. It would not be the first time, nor the last. I fear we count for less than nothing in King's Landing. They tell us what they want us to know, and that's little enough.\"\n\nAnd you tell me what you want me to know, and that's less, Jon thought resentfully. His brother Robb had called the banners and ridden south to war, yet no word of that had been breathed to him... save by Samwell Tarly, who'd read the letter to Maester Aemon and whispered its contents to Jon that night in secret, all the time saying how he shouldn't. Doubtless they thought his brother's war was none of his concern. It troubled him more than he could say. Robb was marching and he was not. No matter how often Jon told himself that his place was here now, with his new brothers on the Wall, he still felt craven.\n\n\"Corn,\" the raven was crying. \"Corn, corn.\"\n\n\"Oh, be quiet,\" the Old Bear told it. \"Snow, how soon does Maester Aemon say you'll have use of that hand back?\"\n\n\"Soon,\" Jon replied."
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"value": "\"Good.\" On the table between them, Lord Mormont laid a large sword in a black metal scabbard banded with silver. \"Here. You'll be ready for this, then.\"\n\nThe raven flapped down and landed on the table, strutting toward the sword, head cocked curiously. Jon hesitated. He had no inkling what this meant. \"My lord?\"\n\n\"The fire melted the silver off the pommel and burnt the crossguard and grip. Well, dry leather and old wood, what could you expect? The blade, now... you'd need afire a hundred times as hot to harm the blade.\" Mormont shoved the scabbard across the rough oak planks. \"I had the rest made anew. Take it.\"\n\n\"Take it,\" echoed his raven, preening. \"Take it, take it.\"\n\nAwkwardly, Jon took the sword in hand. His left hand; his bandaged right was still too raw and clumsy. Carefully he pulled it from its scabbard and raised it level with his eyes.\n\nThe pommel was a hunk of pale stone weighted with lead to balance the long blade. It had been carved into the likeness of a snarling wolf's head, with chips of garnet set into the eyes. The grip was virgin leather, soft and black, as yet unstained by sweat or blood. The blade itself was a good half foot longer than those Jon was used to, tapered to thrust as well as slash, with three fullers deeply incised in the metal. Where Ice was a true two-handed greatsword, this was a hand-and-a-halfer, sometimes named a'bastard sword.\" Yet the wolf sword actually seemed lighter than the blades he had wielded before. When Jon turned it sideways, he could seethe ripples in the dark steel where the metal had been folded back on itself again and again. \"This is Valyrian steel, my lord,\" he said wonderingly. His father had let him handle Ice often enough; he knew the look, the feel."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is,\" the Old Bear told him. \"It was my father's sword, and his father's before him. The Mormonts have carried it for five centuries. I wielded it in my day and passed it onto my son when I took the black.\"\n\nHe is giving me his son's sword. Jon could scarcely believe it. The blade was exquisitely balanced. The edges glimmered faintly as they kissed the light. \"Your son-\"\n\n\"My son brought dishonor to House Mormont, but at least he had the grace to leave the sword behind when he fled. My sister returned it to my keeping, but the very sight of it reminded me of Jorah's shame, so I put it aside and thought no more of it until we found it in the ashes of my bedchamber. The original pommel was a bear's head, silver, yet so worn its features were all but indistinguishable. For you, I thought a white wolf more apt. One of our builders is a fair stonecarver.\"\n\nWhen Jon had been Bran's age, he had dreamed of doing great deeds, as boys always did. The details of his feats changed with every dreaming, but quite often he imagined saving his father's life. Afterward Lord Eddard would declare that Jon had proved himself a true Stark, and place Ice in his hand. Even then he had known it was only a child's folly; no bastard could ever hope to wield a father's sword. Even the memory shamed him. What kind of man stole his own brother's birthright? I have no right to this, he thought, no more than to Ice. He twitched his burned fingers, feeling a throb of pain deep under the skin. \"My lord, you honor me, but-\"\n\n\"Spare me your but's, boy,\" Lord Mormont interrupted. \"I would not be sitting here were it not for you and that beast of yours. You fought bravely... and more to the point, you thought quickly. Fire! Yes, damn it. We ought to have known. We ought to have remembered. The Long Night has come before. Oh, eight thousand years is a good while, to be sure... yet if the Night's Watch does not remember, who will?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who will,\" chimed the talkative raven. \"Who will.\"\n\nTruly, the gods had heard Jon's prayer that night; the fire had caught in the dead man's clothing and consumed him as if his flesh were candle wax and his bones old dry wood. Jon had only to close his eyes to seethe thing staggering across the solar, crashing against the furniture and flailing at the flames. It was the face that haunted him most; surrounded by a nimbus of fire, hair blazing like straw, the dead flesh melting away and sloughing off its skull to reveal the gleam of bone beneath.\n\nWhatever demonic force moved Othor had been driven out by the flames; the twisted thing they had found in the ashes had been no more than cooked meat and charred bone. Yet in his nightmare he faced it again... and this time the burning corpse wore Lord Eddard's features. It was his father's skin that burst and blackened, his father's eyes that ran liquid down his cheeks like jellied tears. Jon did not understand why that should be or what it might mean, but it frightened him more than he could say.\n\n\"A sword's small payment fora life,\" Mormont concluded. \"Take it, I'll hear no more of it, is that understood?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\" The soft leather gave beneath Jon's fingers, as if the sword were molding itself to his grip already. He knew he should be honored, and he was, and yet...\n\nHe is not my father. The thought leapt unbidden to Jon's mind. Lord Eddard Stark is my father. I will not forget him, no matter how many swords they give me. Yet he could scarcely tell Lord Mormont that it was another man's sword he dreamt of...\n\n\"I want no courtesies either,\" Mormont said, \"so thank me no thanks. Honor the steel with deeds, not words.\""
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"value": "Jon nodded. \"Does it have a name, my lord?\"\n\n\"It did, once. Longclaw, it was called.\"\n\n\"Claw,\" the raven cried. \"Claw.\"\n\n\"Longclaw is an apt name.\" Jon tried a practice cut. He was clumsy and uncomfortable with his left hand, yet even so the steel seemed to flow through the air, as if it had a will of its own. \"Wolves have claws, as much as bears.\"\n\nThe Old Bear seemed pleased by that. \"I suppose they do. You'll want to wear that over the shoulder, I imagine. It's too long for the hip, at least until you've put on a few inches. And you'll need to work at your two-handed strikes as well. Ser Endrew can show you some moves, when your burns have healed.\"\n\n\"Ser Endrew?\" Jon did not know the name.\n\n\"Ser Endrew Tarth, a good man. He's on his way from the Shadow Tower to assume the duties of master-at-arms. Ser Alliser Thorne left yestermorn for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.\"\n\nJon lowered the sword. \"Why?\" he said, stupidly.\n\nMormont snorted. \"Because I sent him, why do you think? He's bringing the hand your Ghost tore off the end of Jafer Flowers's wrist. I have commanded him to take ship to King's Landing and lay it before this boy king. That should get young Joffrey's attention, I'd think... and Ser Alliser's a knight, highborn, anointed, with old friends at court, altogether harder to ignore than a glorified crow.\"\n\n\"Crow.\" Jon thought the raven sounded faintly indignant."
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"value": "\"As well,\" the Lord Commander continued, ignoring the bird's protest, \"it puts a thousand leagues twixt him and you without it seeming a rebuke.\" He jabbed a finger up at Jon's face. \"And don't think this means I approve of that nonsense in the common hall. Valor makes up fora fair amount of folly, but you're not a boy anymore, however many years you've seen. That's a man's sword you have there, and it will take a man to wield her. I'll expect you to act the part, henceforth.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\" Jon slid the sword back into the silver-banded scabbard. If not the blade he would have chosen, it was nonetheless a noble gift, and freeing him from Alliser Thorne's malignance was nobler still.\n\nThe Old Bear scratched at his chin. \"I had forgotten how much anew beard itches,\" he said. \"Well, no help for that. Is that hand of yours healed enough to resume your duties?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\"\n\n\"Good. The night will be cold, I'll want hot spice wine. Find me a flagon of red, not too sour, and don't skimp on the spices. And tell Hobb that if he sends me boiled mutton again I'm like to boil him. That last haunch was grey. Even the bird wouldn't touch it.\" He stroked the raven's head with his thumb, and the bird made a contented quorking sound. \"Away with you. I've work to do.\"\n\nThe guards smiled at him from their niches as he wound his way down the turret stair, carrying the sword in his good hand. \"Sweet steel,\" one man said. \"You earned that, Snow,\" another told him. Jon made himself smile back at them, but his heart was not in it. He knew he should be pleased, yet he did not feel it. His hand ached, and the taste of anger was in his mouth, though he could not have said who he was angry with or why."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "A half dozen of his friends were lurking outside when he left the King's Tower, where Lord Commander Mormont now made his residence."
},
{
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"value": "They'd hung a target on the granary doors, so they could seem to be honing their skills as archers, but he knew lurkers when he saw them. No sooner did he emerge than Pyp called out, \"Well, come about, let's have a look.\"\n\n\"At what?\" Jon said.\n\nToad sidled close. \"Your rosy butt cheeks, what else?\"\n\n\"The sword,\" Grenn stated. \"We want to seethe sword.\"\n\nJon raked them with an accusing look. \"You knew.\"\n\nPyp grinned. \"We're not all as dumb as Grenn.\"\n\n\"You are so,\" insisted Grenn. \"You're dumber.\"\n\nHalder gave an apologetic shrug. \"I helped Pate carve the stone for the pommel,\" the builder said, \"and your friend Sam bought the garnets in Mole's Town.\"\n\n\"We knew even before that, though,\" Grenn said. \"Rudge has been helping Donal Noye in the forge. He was there when the Old Bear brought him the burnt blade.\"\n\n\"The sword!\" Matt insisted. The others took up the chant. \"The sword, the sword, the sword.\"\n\nJon unsheathed Longclaw and showed it to them, turning it this way and that so they could admire it. The bastard blade glittered in the pale sunlight, dark and deadly. \"Valyrian steel,\" he declared solemnly, trying to sound as pleased and proud as he ought to have felt.\n\n\"I heard of a man who had a razor made of Valyrian steel,\" declared Toad. \"He cut his head off trying to shave.\"\n\nPyp grinned. \"The Night's Watch is thousands of years old,\" he said, \"but I'll wager Lord Snow's the first brother ever honored for burning down the Lord Commander's Tower.\""
},
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"value": "The others laughed, and even Jon had to smile. The fire he'd started had not, in truth, burned down that formidable stone tower, but it had done a fair job of gutting the interior of the top two floors, where the Old Bear had his chambers. No one seemed to mind that very much, since it had also destroyed Othor's murderous corpse.\n\nThe other wight, the one-handed thing that had once been a ranger named Jafer Flowers, had also been destroyed, cut near to pieces by a dozen swords... but not before it had slain Ser Jaremy Rykker and four other men. Ser Jaremy had finished the job of hacking its head off, yet had died all the same when the headless corpse pulled his own dagger from its sheath and buried it in his bowels. Strength and courage did not avail much against foemen who would not fall because they were already dead; even arms and armor offered small protection.\n\nThat grim thought soured Jon's fragile mood. \"I need to see Hobb about the Old Bear's supper,\" he announced brusquely, sliding Longclaw back into its scabbard. His friends meant well, but they did not understand. It was not their fault, truly; they had not had to face Othor, they had not seen the pale glow of those dead blue eyes, had not felt the cold of those dead black fingers. Nor did they know of the fighting in the riverlands. How could they hope to comprehend? He turned away from them abruptly and strode off, sullen. Pyp called after him, but Jon paid him no mind.\n\nThey had moved him back to his old cell in tumbledown Hardin's Tower after the fire, and it was there he returned. Ghost was curled up asleep beside the door, but he lifted his head at the sound of Jon's boots. The direwolf's red eyes were darker than garnets and wiser than men. Jon knelt, scratched his ear, and showed him the pommel of the sword. \"Look. It's you.\""
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"value": "Ghost sniffed at his carved stone likeness and tried a lick. Jon smiled. \"You're the one deserves an honor,\" he told the wolf... and suddenly he found himself remembering how he'd found him, that day in the late summer snow. They had been riding off with the other pups, but Jon had heard a noise and turned back, and there he was, white fur almost invisible against the drifts. He was all alone, he thought, apart from the others in the litter. He was different, so they drove him out.\n\n\"Jon?\" He looked up. Samwell Tarly stood rocking nervously on his heels. His cheeks were red, and he was wrapped in a heavy fur cloak that made him look ready for hibernation.\n\n\"Sam.\" Jon stood. \"What is it? Do you want to seethe sword?\" If the others had known, no doubt Sam did too.\n\nThe fat boy shook his head. \"I was heir to my father's blade once,\" he said mournfully. \"Heartsbane. Lord Randyll let me hold it a few times, but it always scared me. It was Valyrian steel, beautiful but so sharp I was afraid I'd hurt one of my sisters. Dickon will have it now.\" He wiped sweaty hands on his cloak. \"I... ah... Maester Aemon wants to see you.\"\n\nIt was not time for his bandages to be changed. Jon frowned suspiciously. \"Why?\" he demanded. Sam looked miserable. That was answer enough. \"You told him, didn't you?\" Jon said angrily. \"You told him that you told me.\"\n\n\"I... he... Jon, I didn't want to... he asked... I mean... I think he knew, he sees things no one else sees...\""
},
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"value": "\"He's blind,\" Jon pointed out forcefully, disgusted. \"I can find the way myself.\" He left Sam standing there, openmouthed and quivering.\n\nHe found Maester Aemon up in the rookery, feeding the ravens. Clydas was with him, carrying a bucket of chopped meat as they shuffled from cage to cage. \"Sam said you wanted me?\"\n\nThe maester nodded. \"I did indeed. Clydas, give Jon the bucket. Perhaps he will be kind enough to assist me.\" The hunched, pink-eyed brother handed Jon the bucket and scurried down the ladder. \"Toss the meat into the cages,\" Aemon instructed him. \"The birds will do the rest.\"\n\nJon shifted the bucket to his right hand and thrust his left down into the bloody bits. The ravens began to scream noisily and fly at the bars, beating at the metal with night-black wings. The meat had been chopped into pieces no larger than a finger joint. He filled his fist and tossed the raw red morsels into the cage, and the squawking and squabbling grew hotter. Feathers flew as two of the larger birds fought over a choice piece. Quickly Jon grabbed a second handful and threw it in after the first. \"Lord Mormont's raven likes fruit and corn.\"\n\n\"He is a rare bird,\" the maester said. \"Most ravens will eat grain, but they prefer flesh. It makes them strong, and I fear they relish the taste of blood. In that they are like men... and like men, not all ravens are alike.\"\n\nJon had nothing to say to that. He threw meat, wondering why he'd been summoned. No doubt the old man would tell him, in his own good time. Maester Aemon was not a man to be hurried."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Doves and pigeons can also be trained to carry messages,\" the maester went on, \"though the raven is a stronger flyer, larger, bolder, far more clever, better able to defend itself against hawks... yet ravens are black, and they eat the dead, so some godly men abhor them. Baelor the Blessed tried to replace all the ravens with doves, did you know?\" The maester turned his white eyes on Jon, smiling. \"The Night's Watch prefers ravens.\"\n\nJon's fingers were in the bucket, blood up to the wrist. \"Dywen says the wildlings callus crows,\" he said uncertainly.\n\n\"The crow is the raven's poor cousin. They are both beggars in black, hated and misunderstood.\"\n\nJon wished he understood what they were talking about, and why. What did he care about ravens and doves? If the old man had something to say to him, why couldn't he just say it?\n\n\"Jon, did you ever wonder why the men of the Night's Watch take no wives and father no children?\" Maester Aemon asked.\n\nJon shrugged. \"No.\" He scattered more meat. The fingers of his left hand were slimy with blood, and his right throbbed from the weight of the bucket.\n\n\"So they will not love,\" the old man answered, \"for love is the bane of honor, the death of duty.\"\n\nThat did not sound right to Jon, yet he said nothing. The maester was a hundred years old, and a high officer of the Night's Watch; it was not his place to contradict him.\n\nThe old man seemed to sense his doubts. \"Tell me, Jon, if the day should ever come when your lord father must needs choose between honor on the one hand and those he loves on the other, what would he do?\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon hesitated. He wanted to say that Lord Eddard would never dishonor himself, not even for love, yet inside a small sly voice whispered, He fathered a bastard, where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of his duty to her, he will not even say her name. \"He would do whatever was right,\" he said... ringingly, to makeup for his hesitation. \"No matter what.\"\n\n\"Then Lord Eddard is a man in ten thousand. Most of us are not so strong. What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms... or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.\n\n\"The men who formed the Night's Watch knew that only their courage shielded the realm from the darkness to the north. They knew they must have no divided loyalties to weaken their resolve. So they vowed they would have no wives nor children.\n\n\"Yet brothers they had, and sisters. Mothers who gave them birth, fathers who gave them names. They came from a hundred quarrelsome kingdoms, and they knew times may change, but men do not. So they pledged as well that the Night's Watch would take no part in the battles of the realms it guarded.\n\n\"They kept their pledge. When Aegon slew Black Harren and claimed his kingdom, Harren's brother was Lord Commander on the Wall, with ten thousand swords to hand. He did not march. In the days when the Seven Kingdoms were seven kingdoms, not a generation passed that three or four of them were not at war. The Watch took no part. When the Andals crossed the narrow sea and swept away the kingdoms of the First Men, the sons of the fallen kings held true to their vows and remained at their posts. So it has always been, for years beyond counting. Such is the price of honor."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 63"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon hesitated. He wanted to say that Lord Eddard would never dishonor himself, not even for love, yet inside a small sly voice whispered, He fathered a bastard, where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of his duty to her, he will not even say her name. \"He would do whatever was right,\" he said... ringingly, to makeup for his hesitation. \"No matter what.\"\n\n\"Then Lord Eddard is a man in ten thousand. Most of us are not so strong. What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms... or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.\n\n\"The men who formed the Night's Watch knew that only their courage shielded the realm from the darkness to the north. They knew they must have no divided loyalties to weaken their resolve. So they vowed they would have no wives nor children.\n\n\"Yet brothers they had, and sisters. Mothers who gave them birth, fathers who gave them names. They came from a hundred quarrelsome kingdoms, and they knew times may change, but men do not. So they pledged as well that the Night's Watch would take no part in the battles of the realms it guarded.\n\n\"They kept their pledge. When Aegon slew Black Harren and claimed his kingdom, Harren's brother was Lord Commander on the Wall, with ten thousand swords to hand. He did not march. In the days when the Seven Kingdoms were seven kingdoms, not a generation passed that three or four of them were not at war. The Watch took no part. When the Andals crossed the narrow sea and swept away the kingdoms of the First Men, the sons of the fallen kings held true to their vows and remained at their posts. So it has always been, for years beyond counting. Such is the price of honor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"A craven can be as brave as any man, when there is nothing to fear."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And we all do our duty, when there is no cost to it. How easy it seems then, to walk the path of honor. Yet soon or late in every man's life comes a day when it is not easy, a day when he must choose.\"\n\nSome of the ravens were still eating, long stringy bits of meat dangling from their beaks. The rest seemed to be watching him. Jon could feel the weight of all those tiny black eyes. \"And this is my day... is that what you're saying?\"\n\nMaester Aemon turned his head and looked at him with those dead white eyes. It was as if he were seeing right into his heart. Jon felt naked and exposed. He took the bucket in both hands and flung the rest of the slops through the bars. Strings of meat and blood flew everywhere, scattering the ravens. They took to the air, shrieking wildly. The quicker birds snatched morsels on the wing and gulped them down greedily. Jon let the empty bucket clang to the floor.\n\nThe old man laid a withered, spotted hand on his shoulder. \"It hurts, boy,\" he said softly. \"Oh, yes. Choosing... it has always hurt. And always will. I know.\"\n\n\"You don't know,\" Jon said bitterly. \"No one knows. Even if I am his bastard, he's still my father...\"\n\nMaester Aemon sighed. \"Have you heard nothing I've told you, Jon? Do you think you are the first?\" He shook his ancient head, a gesture weary beyond words. \"Three times the gods saw fit to test my vows. Once when I was a boy, once in the fullness of my manhood, and once when I had grown old. By then my strength was fled, my eyes grown dim, yet that last choice was as cruel as the first. My ravens would bring the news from the south, words darker than their wings, the ruin of my House, the death of my kin, disgrace and desolation. What could I have done, old, blind, frail? I was helpless as a suckling babe, yet still it grieved me to sit forgotten as they cut down my brother's poor grandson, and his son, and even the little children...\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon was shocked to seethe shine of tears in the old man's eyes. \"Who are you?\" he asked quietly, almost in dread.\n\nA toothless smile quivered on the ancient lips. \"Only a maester of the Citadel, bound in service to Castle Black and the Night's Watch. In my order, we put aside our house names when we take our vows and don the collar.\" The old man touched the maester's chain that hung loosely around his thin, fleshless neck. \"My father was Maekar, the First of his Name, and my brother Aegon reigned after him in my stead. My grandfather named me for Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, who was his uncle, or his father, depending on which tale you believe. Aemon, he called me...\"\n\n\"Aemon... Targaryen?\" Jon could scarcely believe it.\n\n\"Once,\" the old man said. \"Once. So you see, Jon, I do know... and knowing, I will not tell you stay or go. You must make that choice yourself, and live with it all the rest of your days. As I have.\" His voice fell to a whisper. \"As I have...\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When the battle was done, Dany rode her silver through the fields of the dead. Her handmaids and the men of her khas came after, smiling and jesting among themselves.\n\nDothraki hooves had torn the earth and trampled the rye and lentils into the ground, while arakhs and arrows had sown a terrible new crop and watered it with blood. Dying horses lifted their heads and screamed at her as she rode past. Wounded men moaned and prayed. Jaqqa rhan moved among them, the mercy men with their heavy axes, taking a harvest of heads from the dead and dying alike. After them would scurry a flock of small girls, pulling arrows from the corpses to fill their baskets. Last of all the dogs would come sniffing, lean and hungry, the feral pack that was never far behind the khalasar.\n\nThe sheep had been dead longest. There seemed to be thousands of them, black with flies, arrow shafts bristling from each carcass. Khal Ogo's riders had done that, Dany knew; no man of Drogo's khalasar would be such a fool as to waste his arrows on sheep when there were shepherds yet to kill.\n\nThe town was afire, black plumes of smoke roiling and tumbling as they rose into a hard blue sky. Beneath broken walls of dried mud, riders galloped back and forth, swinging their long whips as they herded the survivors from the smoking rubble. The women and children of Ogo's khalasar walked with a sullen pride, even in defeat and bondage; they were slaves now, but they seemed not to fear it. It was different with the townsfolk. Dany pitied them; she remembered what terror felt like. Mothers stumbled along with blank, dead faces, pulling sobbing children by the hand. There were only a few men among them, cripples and cowards and grandfathers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ser Jorah said the people of this country named themselves the Lhazareen, but the Dothraki called them haesh rakhi, the Lamb Men."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Once Dany might have taken them for Dothraki, for they had the same copper skin and almond-shaped eyes. Now they looked alien to her, squat and flat-faced, their black hair cropped unnaturally short. They were herders of sheep and eaters of vegetables, and Khal Drogo said they belonged south of the river bend. The grass of the Dothraki sea was not meant for sheep.\n\nDany saw one boy bolt and run for the river. A rider cut him off and turned him, and the others boxed him in, cracking their whips in his face, running him this way and that. One galloped behind him, lashing him across the buttocks until his thighs ran red with blood. Another snared his ankle with a lash and sent him sprawling. Finally, when the boy could only crawl, they grew bored of the sport and put an arrow through his back.\n\nSer Jorah met her outside the shattered gate. He wore a dark green surcoat over his mail. His gauntlets, greaves, and greathelm were dark grey steel. The Dothraki had mocked him fora coward when he donned his armor, but the knight had spit insults right back in their teeth, tempers had flared, longsword had clashed with arakh, and the rider whose taunts had been loudest had been left behind to bleed to death.\n\nSer Jorah lifted the visor of his flat-topped greathelm as he rode up. \"Your lord husband awaits you within the town.\"\n\n\"Drogo took no harm?\"\n\n\"A few cuts,\" Ser Jorah answered, \"nothing of consequence. He slew two khals this day. Khal Ogo first, and then the son, Fogo, who became khal when Ogo fell. His bloodriders cut the bells from their hair, and now Khal Drogo's every step rings louder than before.\""
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ogo and his son had shared the high bench with her lord husband at the naming feast where Viserys had been crowned, but that was in Vaes Dothrak, beneath the Mother of Mountains, where every rider was a brother and all quarrels were put aside. It was different out in the grass. Ogo's khalasar had been attacking the town when Khal Drogo caught him. She wondered what the Lamb Men had thought, when they first saw the dust of their horses from atop those cracked-mud walls. Perhaps a few, the younger and more foolish who still believed that the gods heard the prayers of desperate men, took it for deliverance.\n\nAcross the road, a girl no older than Dany was sobbing in a high thin voice as a rider shoved her over a pile of corpses, facedown, and thrust himself inside her. Other riders dismounted to take their turns. That was the sort of deliverance the Dothraki brought the Lamb Men.\n\nI am the blood of the dragon, Daenerys Targaryen reminded herself as she turned her face away. She pressed her lips together and hardened her heart and rode on toward the gate.\n\n\"Most of Ogo's riders fled,\" Ser Jorah was saying. \"Still, there maybe as many as ten thousand captives.\"\n\nSlaves, Dany thought. Khal Drogo would drive them downriver to one of the towns on Slaver's Bay. She wanted to cry, but she told herself that she must be strong. This is war, this is what it looks like, this is the price of the Iron Throne.\n\n\"I've told the khal he ought to make for Meereen,\" Ser Jorah said. \"They'll pay a better price than he'd get from a slaving caravan. Illyrio writes that they had a plague last year, so the brothels are paying double for healthy young girls, and triple for boys under ten. If enough children survive the journey, the gold will buy us all the ships we need, and hire men to sail them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Behind them, the girl being raped made a heartrending sound, along sobbing wail that went on and on and on. Dany's hand clenched hard around the reins, and she turned the silver's head. \"Make them stop,\" she commanded Ser Jorah.\n\n\"Khaleesi?\" The knight sounded perplexed.\n\n\"You heard my words,\" she said. \"Stop them.\" She spoke to her khas in the harsh accents of Dothraki. \"Jhogo, Quaro, you will aid Ser Jorah. I want no rape.\"\n\nThe warriors exchanged a baffled look.\n\nJorah Mormont spurred his horse closer. \"Princess,\" he said, \"you have a gentle heart, but you do not understand. This is how it has always been. Those men have shed blood for the khal. Now they claim their reward.\"\n\nAcross the road, the girl was still crying, her high singsong tongue strange to Dany's ears. The first man was done with her now, and a second had taken his place.\n\n\"She is a lamb girl,\" Quaro said in Dothraki. \"She is nothing, Khaleesi. The riders do her honor. The Lamb Men lay with sheep, it is known.\"\n\n\"It is known,\" her handmaid Irri echoed.\n\n\"It is known,\" agreed Jhogo, astride the tall grey stallion that Drogo had given him. \"If her wailing offends your ears, Khaleesi, Jhogo will bring you her tongue.\" He drew his arakh.\n\n\"I will not have her harmed,\" Dany said. \"I claim her. Do as I command you, or Khal Drogo will know the reason why.\"\n\n\"Ai, Khaleesi,\" Jhogo replied, kicking his horse. Quaro and the others followed his lead, the bells in their hair chiming."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Go with them,\" she commanded Ser Jorah.\n\n\"As you command.\" The knight gave her a curious look. \"You are your brother's sister, in truth.\"\n\n\"Viserys?\" She did not understand.\n\n\"No,\" he answered. \"Rhaegar.\" He galloped off.\n\nDany heard Jhogo shout. The rapers laughed at him. One man shouted back. Jhogo's arakh flashed, and the man's head went tumbling from his shoulders. Laughter turned to curses as the horsemen reached for weapons, but by then Quaro and Aggo and Rakharo were there. She saw Aggo point across the road to where she sat upon her silver. The riders looked at her with cold black eyes. One spat. The others scattered to their mounts, muttering.\n\nAll the while the man atop the lamb girl continued to plunge in and out of her, so intent on his pleasure that he seemed unaware of what was going on around him. Ser Jorah dismounted and wrenched him off with a mailed hand. The Dothraki went sprawling in the mud, bounced up with a knife in hand, and died with Aggo's arrow through his throat. Mormont pulled the girl off the pile of corpses and wrapped her in his blood-spattered cloak. He led her across the road to Dany. \"What do you want done with her?\"\n\nThe girl was trembling, her eyes wide and vague. Her hair was matted with blood. \"Doreah, see to her hurts. You do not have a rider's look, perhaps she will not fear you. The rest, with me.\" She urged the silver through the broken wooden gate.\n\nIt was worse inside the town. Many of the houses were afire, and the jaqqa rhan had been about their grisly work. Headless corpses filled the narrow, twisty lanes. They passed other women being raped. Each time Dany reined up, sent her khas to make an end to it, and claimed the victim as slave. One of them, a thick-bodied, flat-nosed woman of forty years, blessed Dany haltingly in the Common Tongue, but from the others she got only flat black stares. They were suspicious of her, she realized with sadness; afraid that she had saved them for some worse fate."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You cannot claim them all, child,\" Ser Jorah said, the fourth time they stopped, while the warriors of her khas herded her new slaves behind her.\n\n\"I am khaleesi, heir to the Seven Kingdoms, the blood of the dragon,\" Dany reminded him. \"It is not for you to tell me what I cannot do.\" Across the city, a building collapsed in a great gout of fire and smoke, and she heard distant screams and the wailing of frightened children.\n\nThey found Khal Drogo seated before a square windowless temple with thick mud walls and a bulbous dome like some immense brown onion. Beside him was a pile of heads taller than he was. One of the short arrows of the Lamb Men stuck through the meat of his upper arm, and blood covered the left side of his bare chest like a splash of paint. His three bloodriders were with him.\n\nJhiqui helped Dany dismount; she had grown clumsy as her belly grew larger and heavier. She knelt before the khal. \"My sun-and-stars is wounded.\" The arakh cut was wide but shallow; his left nipple was gone, and a flap of bloody flesh and skin dangled from his chest like a wet rag.\n\n\"Is scratch, moon of life, from arakh of one bloodrider to Khal Ogo,\" Khal Drogo said in the Common Tongue. \"I kill him for it, and Ogo too.\" He turned his head, the bells in his braid ringing softly. \"Is Ogo you hear, and Fogo his khalakka, who was khal when I slew him.\"\n\n\"No man can stand before the sun of my life,\" Dany said, \"the father of the stallion who mounts the world.\"\n\nAmounted warrior rode up and vaulted from his saddle. He spoke to Haggo, a stream of angry Dothraki too fast for Dany to understand. The huge bloodrider gave her a heavy look before he turned to his khal. \"This one is Mago, who rides in the khas of Ko Jhaqo. He says the khaleesi has taken his spoils, a daughter of the lambs who was his to mount.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Khal Drogo's face was still and hard, but his black eyes were curious as they went to Dany. \"Tell me the truth of this, moon of my life,\" he commanded in Dothraki.\n\nDany told him what she had done, in his own tongue so the khal would understand her better, her words simple and direct.\n\nWhen she was done, Drogo was frowning. \"This is the way of war. These women are our slaves now, to do with as we please.\"\n\n\"It pleases me to hold them safe,\" Dany said, wondering if she had dared too much. \"If your warriors would mount these women, let them take them gently and keep them for wives. Give them places in the khalasar and let them bear you sons.\"\n\nQotho was ever the cruelest of the bloodriders. It was he who laughed. \"Does the horse breed with the sheep?\"\n\nSomething in his tone reminded her of Viserys. Dany turned on him angrily. \"The dragon feeds on horse and sheep alike.\"\n\nKhal Drogo smiled. \"See how fierce she grows!\" he said. \"It is my son inside her, the stallion who mounts the world, filling her with his fire. Ride slowly, Qotho... if the mother does not burn you where you sit, the son will trample you into the mud. And you, Mago, hold your tongue and find another lamb to mount. These belong to my khaleesi.\" He started to reach out a hand to Daenerys, but as he lifted his arm Drogo grimaced in sudden pain and turned his head.\n\nDany could almost feel his agony. The wounds were worse than Ser Jorah had led her to believe. \"Where are the healers?\" she demanded. The khalasar had two sorts: barren women and eunuch slaves. The herbwomen dealt in potions and spells, the eunuchs in knife, needle, and fire. \"Why do they not attend the khal?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The khal sent the hairless men away, Khaleesi,\" old Cohollo assured her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany saw the bloodrider had taken a wound himself; a deep gash in his left shoulder.\n\n\"Many riders are hurt,\" Khal Drogo said stubbornly. \"Let them be healed first. This arrow is no more than the bite of a fly, this little cut only anew scar to boast of to my son.\"\n\nDany could seethe muscles in his chest where the skin had been cutaway. A trickle of blood ran from the arrow that pierced his arm. \"It is not for Khal Drogo to wait,\" she proclaimed. \"Jhogo, seek out these eunuchs and bring them here at once.\"\n\n\"Silver Lady,\" a woman's voice said behind her, \"I can help the Great Rider with his hurts.\"\n\nDany turned her head. The speaker was one of the slaves she had claimed, the heavy, flat-nosed woman who had blessed her.\n\n\"The khal needs no help from women who lie with sheep,\" barked Qotho. \"Aggo, cutout her tongue.\"\n\nAggo grabbed her hair and pressed a knife to her throat.\n\nDany lifted a hand. \"No. She is mine. Let her speak.\"\n\nAggo looked from her to Qotho. He lowered his knife.\n\n\"I meant no wrong, fierce riders.\" The woman spoke Dothraki well. The robes she wore had once been the lightest and finest of woolens, rich with embroidery, but now they were mud-caked and bloody and ripped. She clutched the torn cloth of her bodice to her heavy breasts. \"I have some small skill in the healing arts.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" Dany asked her.\n\n\"I am named Mirri Maz Duur. I am godswife of this temple.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Maegi,\" grunted Haggo, fingering his arakh."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His look was dark. Dany remembered the word from a terrifying story that Jhiqui had told her one night by the cookfire. A maegi was a woman who lay with demons and practiced the blackest of sorceries, a vile thing, evil and soulless, who came to men in the dark of night and sucked life and strength from their bodies.\n\n\"I am a healer,\" Mirri Maz Duur said.\n\n\"A healer of sheeps,\" sneered Qotho. \"Blood of my blood, I say kill this maegi and wait for the hairless men.\"\n\nDany ignored the bloodrider's outburst. This old, homely, thick-bodied woman did not look like a maegi to her. \"Where did you learn your healing, Mirri Maz Duur?\"\n\n\"My mother was godswife before me, and taught me all the songs and spells most pleasing to the Great Shepherd, and how to make the sacred smokes and ointments from leaf and root and berry. When I was younger and more fair, I went in caravan to Asshai by the Shadow, to learn from their mages. Ships from many lands come to Asshai, so I lingered long to study the healing ways of distant peoples. A moonsinger of the Jogos Nhai gifted me with her birthing songs, a woman of your own riding people taught me the magics of grass and corn and horse, and a maester from the Sunset Lands opened a body for me and showed me all the secrets that hide beneath the skin.\"\n\nSer Jorah Mormont spoke up. \"A maester?\"\n\n\"Marwyn, he named himself,\" the woman replied in the Common Tongue. \"From the sea. Beyond the sea. The Seven Lands, he said. Sunset Lands. Where men are iron and dragons rule. He taught me this speech.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A maester in Asshai,\" Ser Jorah mused. \"Tell me, Godswife, what did this Marwyn wear about his neck?\"\n\n\"A chain so tight it was like to choke him, Iron Lord, with links of many metals.\"\n\nThe knight looked at Dany. \"Only a man trained in the Citadel of Oldtown wears such a chain,\" he said, \"and such men do know much of healing.\"\n\n\"Why should you want to help my khal?\"\n\n\"All men are one flock, or so we are taught,\" replied Mirri Maz Duur. \"The Great Shepherd sent me to earth to heal his lambs, wherever I might find them.\"\n\nQotho gave her a stinging slap. \"We are no sheep, maegi.\"\n\n\"Stop it,\" Dany said angrily. \"She is mine. I will not have her harmed.\"\n\nKhal Drogo grunted. \"The arrow must come out, Qotho.\"\n\n\"Yes, Great Rider,\" Mirri Maz Duur answered, touching her bruised face. \"And your breast must be washed and sewn, lest the wound fester.\"\n\n\"Do it, then,\" Khal Drogo commanded.\n\n\"Great Rider,\" the woman said, \"my tools and potions are inside the god's house, where the healing powers are strongest.\"\n\n\"I will carry you, blood of my blood,\" Haggo offered.\n\nKhal Drogo waved him away. \"I need no man's help,\" he said, in a voice proud and hard. He stood, unaided, towering over them all. Afresh wave of blood ran down his breast, from where Ogo's arakh had cutoff his nipple. Dany moved quickly to his side. \"I am no man,\" she whispered, \"so you may lean on me.\" Drogo put a huge hand on her shoulder. She took some of his weight as they walked toward the great mud temple. The three bloodriders followed. Dany commanded Ser Jorah and the warriors of her khas to guard the entrance and make certain no one set the building afire while they were still inside."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They passed through a series of anterooms, into the high central chamber under the onion. Faint light shone down through hidden windows above. A few torches burnt smokily from sconces on the walls. Sheepskins were scattered across the mud floor. \"There,\" Mirri Maz Duur said, pointing to the altar, a massive blue-veined stone carved with images of shepherds and their flocks. Khal Drogo lay upon it. The old woman threw a handful of dried leaves onto a brazier, filling the chamber with fragrant smoke. \"Best if you wait outside,\" she told the rest of them.\n\n\"We are blood of his blood,\" Cohollo said. \"Here we wait.\"\n\nQotho stepped close to Mirri Maz Duur. \"Know this, wife of the Lamb God. Harm the khal and you suffer the same.\" He drew his skinning knife and showed her the blade.\n\n\"She will do no harm.\" Dany felt she could trust this old, plain-faced woman with her flat nose; she had saved her from the hard hands of her rapers, after all.\n\n\"If you must stay, then help,\" Mirri told the bloodriders. \"The Great Rider is too strong for me. Hold him still while I draw the arrow from his flesh.\" She let the rags of her gown fall to her waist as she opened a carved chest, and busied herself with bottles and boxes, knives and needles. When she was ready, she broke off the barbed arrowhead and pulled out the shaft, chanting in the singsong tongue of the Lhazareen. She heated a flagon of wine to boiling on the brazier, and poured it over his wounds. Khal Drogo cursed her, but he did not move. She bound the arrow wound with a plaster of wet leaves and turned to the gash on his breast, smearing it with a pale green paste before she pulled the flap of skin back in place. The khal ground his teeth together and swallowed a scream. The godswife took out a silver needle and a bobbin of silk thread and began to close the flesh. When she was done she painted the skin with red ointment, covered it with more leaves, and bound the breast in a ragged piece of lambskin. \"You must say the prayers I give you and keep the lambskin in place for ten days and ten nights,\" she said. \"There will be fever, and itching, and a great scar when the healing is done.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Khal Drogo sat, bells ringing. \"I sing of my scars, sheep woman.\" He flexed his arm and scowled.\n\n\"Drink neither wine nor the milk of the poppy,\" she cautioned him. \"Pain you will have, but you must keep your body strong to fight the poison spirits.\"\n\n\"I am khal,\" Drogo said. \"I spit on pain and drink what I like. Cohollo, bring my vest.\" The older man hastened off.\n\n\"Before,\" Dany said to the ugly Lhazareen woman, \"I heard you speak of birthing songs...\"\n\n\"I know every secret of the bloody bed, Silver Lady, nor have I ever lost a babe,\" Mirri Maz Duur replied.\n\n\"My time is near,\" Dany said. \"I would have you attend me when he comes, if you would.\"\n\nKhal Drogo laughed. \"Moon of my life, you do not ask a slave, you tell her. She will do as you command.\" He jumped down from the altar. \"Come, my blood. The stallions call, this place is ashes. It is time to ride.\"\n\nHaggo followed the khal from the temple, but Qotho lingered long enough to favor Mirri Maz Duur with a stare. \"Remember, maegi, as the khal fares, so shall you.\"\n\n\"As you say, rider,\" the woman answered him, gathering up her jars and bottles. \"The Great Shepherd guards the flock.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "On a hill overlooking the kingsroad, along trestle table of rough-hewn pine had been erected beneath an elm tree and covered with a golden cloth. There, beside his pavilion, Lord Tywin took his evening meal with his chief knights and lords bannermen, his great crimson-and-gold standard waving overhead from a lofty pike.\n\nTyrion arrived late, saddlesore, and sour, all too vividly aware of how amusing he must look as he waddled up the slope to his father. The day's march had been long and tiring. He thought he might get quite drunk tonight. It was twilight, and the air was alive with drifting fireflies.\n\nThe cooks were serving the meat course: five suckling pigs, skin seared and crackling, a different fruit in every mouth. The smell made his mouth water. \"My pardons,\" he began, taking his place on the bench beside his uncle.\n\n\"Perhaps I'd best charge you with burying our dead, Tyrion,\" Lord Tywin said. \"If you areas late to battle as you are to table, the fighting will all be done by the time you arrive.\"\n\n\"Oh, surely you can save me a peasant or two, Father,\" Tyrion replied. \"Not too many, I wouldn't want to be greedy.\" He filled his wine cup and watched a serving man carve into the pig. The crisp skin crackled under his knife, and hot juice ran from the meat. It was the loveliest sight Tyrion had seen in ages.\n\n\"Ser Addam's outriders say the Stark host has moved south from the Twins,\" his father reported as his trencher was filled with slices of pork. \"Lord Frey's levies have joined them. They are likely no more than a day's march north of us.\""
},
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"value": "\"Please, Father,\" Tyrion said. \"I'm about to eat.\"\n\n\"Does the thought of facing the Stark boy unman you, Tyrion? Your brother Jaime would be eager to come to grips with him.\"\n\n\"I'd sooner come to grips with that pig. Robb Stark is not half so tender, and he never smelled as good.\"\n\nLord Lefford, the sour bird who had charge of their stores and supplies, leaned forward. \"I hope your savages do not share your reluctance, else we've wasted our good steel on them.\"\n\n\"My savages will put your steel to excellent use, my lord,\" Tyrion replied. When he had told Lefford he needed arms and armor to equip the three hundred men Ulf had fetched down out of the foothills, you would have thought he'd asked the man to turn his virgin daughters over to their pleasure.\n\nLord Lefford frowned. \"I saw that great hairy one today, the one who insisted that he must have two battle-axes, the heavy black steel ones with twin crescent blades.\"\n\n\"Shagga likes to kill with either hand,\" Tyrion said as a trencher of steaming pork was laid in front of him.\n\n\"He still had that wood-axe of his strapped to his back.\"\n\n\"Shagga is of the opinion that three axes are even better than two.\" Tyrion reached a thumb and forefinger into the salt dish, and sprinkled a healthy pinch over his meat.\n\nSer Kevan leaned forward. \"We had a thought to put you and your wildlings in the vanguard when we come to battle.\"\n\nSer Kevan seldom'had a thought\" that Lord Tywin had not had first. Tyrion had skewered a chunk of meat on the point of his dagger and brought it to his mouth. Now he lowered it. \"The vanguard?\" he repeated dubiously. Either his lord father had anew respect for Tyrion's abilities, or he'd decided to rid himself of his embarrassing get for good. Tyrion had the gloomy feeling he knew which."
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"value": "\"They seem ferocious enough,\" Ser Kevan said.\n\n\"Ferocious?\" Tyrion realized he was echoing his uncle like a trained bird. His father watched, judging him, weighing every word. \"Let me tell you how ferocious they are. Last night, a Moon Brother stabbed a Stone Crow over a sausage. So today as we made camp three Stone Crows seized the man and opened his throat for him. Perhaps they were hoping to get the sausage back, I couldn't say. Bronn managed to keep Shagga from chopping off the dead man's cock, which was fortunate, but even so Ulf is demanding blood money, which Conn and Shagga refuse to pay.\"\n\n\"When soldiers lack discipline, the fault lies with their lord commander,\" his father said.\n\nHis brother Jaime had always been able to make men follow him eagerly, and die for him if need be. Tyrion lacked that gift. He bought loyalty with gold, and compelled obedience with his name. \"A bigger man would be able to put the fear in them, is that what you're saying, my lord?\"\n\nLord Tywin Lannister turned to his brother. \"If my son's men will not obey his commands, perhaps the vanguard is not the place for him. No doubt he would be more comfortable in the rear, guarding our baggage train.\"\n\n\"Dome no kindnesses, Father,\" he said angrily. \"If you have no other command to offer me, I'll lead your van.\"\n\nLord Tywin studied his dwarf son. \"I said nothing about command. You will serve under Ser Gregor.\"\n\nTyrion took one bite of pork, chewed a moment, and spit it out angrily. \"I find I am not hungry after all,\" he said, climbing awkwardly off the bench. \"Pray excuse me, my lords.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Lord Tywin inclined his head, dismissing him."
},
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"value": "Tyrion turned and walked away. He was conscious of their eyes on his back as he waddled down the hill. A great gust of laughter went up from behind him, but he did not look back. He hoped they all choked on their suckling pigs.\n\nDusk had settled, turning all the banners black. The Lannister camp sprawled for miles between the river and the kingsroad. In amongst the men and the horses and the trees, it was easy to get lost, and Tyrion did. He passed a dozen great pavilions and a hundred cookfires. Fireflies drifted amongst the tents like wandering stars. He caught the scent of garlic sausage, spiced and savory, so tempting it made his empty stomach growl. Away in the distance, he heard voices raised in some bawdy song. A giggling woman raced past him, naked beneath a dark cloak, her drunken pursuer stumbling over tree roots. Farther on, two spearmen faced each other across a little trickle of a stream, practicing their thrust-and-parry in the fading light, their chests bare and slick with sweat.\n\nNo one looked at him. No one spoke to him. No one paid him any mind. He was surrounded by men sworn to House Lannister, avast host twenty thousand strong, and yet he was alone.\n\nWhen he heard the deep rumble of Shagga's laughter booming through the dark, he followed it to the Stone Crows in their small corner of the night. Conn son of Coratt waved a tankard of ale. \"Tyrion Half man! Come, sit by our fire, share meat with the Stone Crows. We have an ox.\"\n\n\"I can see that, Conn son of Coratt.\" The huge red carcass was suspended over a roaring fire, skewered on a spit the size of a small tree. No doubt it was a small tree. Blood and grease dripped down into the flames as two Stone Crows turned the meat. \"I thank you. Send for me when the ox is cooked.\" From the look of it, that might even be before the battle. He walked on."
},
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"value": "Each clan had its own cookfire; Black Ears did not eat with Stone Crows, Stone Crows did not eat with Moon Brothers, and no one ate with Burned Men. The modest tent he had coaxed out of Lord Lefford's stores had been erected in the center of the four fires. Tyrion found Bronn sharing a skin of wine with the new servants. Lord Tywin had sent him a groom and a body servant to see to his needs, and even insisted he take a squire. They were seated around the embers of a small cookfire. A girl was with them; slim, dark-haired, no more than eighteen by the look of her. Tyrion studied her face fora moment, before he spied fishbones in the ashes. \"What did you eat?\"\n\n\"Trout, m'lord,\" said his groom. \"Bronn caught them.\"\n\nTrout, he thought. Suckling pig. Damn my father. He stared mournfully at the bones, his belly rumbling.\n\nHis squire, a boy with the unfortunate name of Podrick Payne, swallowed whatever he had been about to say. The lad was a distant cousin to Ser Ilyn Payne, the king's headsman... and almost as quiet, although not for want of a tongue. Tyrion had made him stick it out once, just to be certain. \"Definitely a tongue,\" he had said. \"Someday you must learn to use it.\"\n\nAt the moment, he did not have the patience to try and coax a thought out of the lad, whom he suspected had been inflicted on him as a cruel jape. Tyrion turned his attention back to the girl. \"Is this her?\" he asked Bronn.\n\nShe rose gracefully and looked down at him from the lofty height of five feet or more. \"It is, m'lord, and she can speak for herself, if it please you.\""
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"value": "He cocked his head to one side. \"I am Tyrion, of House Lannister. Men call me the Imp.\"\n\n\"My mother named me Shae. Men call me... often.\"\n\nBronn laughed, and Tyrion had to smile. \"Into the tent, Shae, if you would be so kind.\" He lifted the flap and held it for her. Inside, he knelt to light a candle.\n\nThe life of a soldier was not without certain compensations. Wherever you have a camp, you are certain to have camp followers. At the end of the day's march, Tyrion had sent Bronn back to find him a likely whore. \"I would prefer one who is reasonably young, with as pretty a face as you can find,\" he had said. \"If she has washed sometime this year, I shall be glad. If she hasn't, wash her. Be certain that you tell her who I am, and warn her of what I am.\" Jyck had not always troubled to do that. There was a look the girls got in their eyes sometimes when they first beheld the lordling they'd been hired to pleasure... a look that Tyrion Lannister did not ever care to see again.\n\nHe lifted the candle and looked her over. Bronn had done well enough; she was doe-eyed and slim, with small firm breasts and a smile that was by turns shy, insolent, and wicked. He liked that. \"Shall I take my gown off, m'lord?\" she asked.\n\n\"In good time. Are you a maiden, Shae?\"\n\n\"If it please you, m'lord,\" she said demurely.\n\n\"What would please me would be the truth of you, girl.\"\n\n\"Aye, but that will cost you double.\""
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"value": "Tyrion decided they would get along splendidly. \"I am a Lannister. Gold I have in plenty, and you'll find me generous... but I'll want more from you than what you've got between your legs, though I'll want that too. You'll share my tent, pour my wine, laugh at my jests, rub the ache from my legs after each day's ride... and whether I keep you a day or a year, for so long as we are together you will take no other men into your bed.\"\n\n\"Fair enough.\" She reached down to the hem of her thin roughspun gown and pulled it up over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. There was nothing underneath but Shae. \"If he don't put down that candle, m'lord will burn his fingers.\"\n\nTyrion put down the candle, took her hand in his, and pulled her gently to him. She bent to kiss him. Her mouth tasted of honey and cloves, and her fingers were deft and practiced as they found the fastenings of his clothes.\n\nWhen he entered her, she welcomed him with whispered endearments and small, shuddering gasps of pleasure. Tyrion suspected her delight was feigned, but she did it so well that it did not matter. That much truth he did not crave.\n\nHe had needed her, Tyrion realized afterward, as she lay quietly in his arms. Her or someone like her. It had been nigh on a year since he'd lain with a woman, since before he had set out for Winterfell in company with his brother and King Robert. He could well die on the morrow or the day after, and if he did, he would sooner go to his grave thinking of Shae than of his lord father, Lysa Arryn, or the Lady Catelyn Stark."
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "He could feel the softness of her breasts pressed against his arm as she lay beside him. That was a good feeling. A song filled his head. Softly, quietly, he began to whistle.\n\n\"What's that, m'lord?\" Shae murmured against him.\n\n\"Nothing,\" he told her. \"A song I learned as a boy, that's all. Go to sleep, sweetling.\"\n\nWhen her eyes were closed and her breathing deep and steady, Tyrion slid out from beneath her, gently, so as not to disturb her sleep. Naked, he crawled outside, stepped over his squire, and walked around behind his tent to make water.\n\nBronn was seated cross-legged under a chestnut tree, near where they'd tied the horses. He was honing the edge of his sword, wide awake; the sellsword did not seem to sleep like other men. \"Where did you find her?\" Tyrion asked him as he pissed.\n\n\"I took her from a knight. The man was loath to give her up, but your name changed his thinking somewhat... that, and my dirk at his throat.\"\n\n\"Splendid,\" Tyrion said dryly, shaking off the last drops. \"I seem to recall saying find me a whore, not make mean enemy.\"\n\n\"The pretty ones were all claimed,\" Bronn said. \"I'll be pleased to take her back if you'd prefer a toothless drab.\"\n\nTyrion limped closer to where he sat. \"My lord father would call that insolence, and send you to the mines for impertinence.\"\n\n\"Good for me you're not your father,\" Bronn replied. \"I saw one with boils allover her nose. Would you like her?\""
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"value": "\"What, and break your heart?\" Tyrion shot back. \"I shall keep Shae. Did you perchance note the name of this knight you took her from? I'd rather not have him beside me in the battle.\"\n\nBronn rose, cat-quick and cat-graceful, turning his sword in his hand. \"You'll have me beside you in the battle, dwarf.\"\n\nTyrion nodded. The night air was warm on his bare skin. \"See that I survive this battle, and you can name your reward.\"\n\nBronn tossed the longsword from his right hand to his left, and tried a cut. \"Who'd want to kill the likes of you?\"\n\n\"My lord father, for one. He's put me in the van.\"\n\n\"I'd do the same. A small man with a big shield. You'll give the archers fits.\"\n\n\"I find you oddly cheering,\" Tyrion said. \"I must be mad.\"\n\nBronn sheathed his sword. \"Beyond a doubt.\"\n\nWhen Tyrion returned to his tent, Shae rolled onto her elbow and murmured sleepily, \"I woke and m'lord was gone.\"\n\n\"M'lord is back now.\" He slid in beside her.\n\nHer hand went between his stunted legs, and found him hard. \"Yes he is,\" she whispered, stroking him.\n\nHe asked her about the man Bronn had taken her from, and she named the minor retainer of an insignificant lordling. \"You need not fear his like, m'lord,\" the girl said, her fingers busy at his cock. \"He is a small man.\"\n\n\"And what am I, pray?\" Tyrion asked her. \"A giant?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, yes,\" she purred, \"my giant of Lannister.\" She mounted him then, and fora time, she almost made him believe it. Tyrion went to sleep smiling...\n\n... and woke in darkness to the blare of trumpets. Shae was shaking him by the shoulder. \"M'lord,\" she whispered. \"Wake up, m'lord. I'm frightened.\"\n\nGroggy, he sat up and threw back the blanket. The horns called through the night, wild and urgent, a cry that said hurry hurry hurry. He heard shouts, the clatter of spears, the whicker of horses, though nothing yet that spoke to him of fighting. \"My lord father's trumpets,\" he said. \"Battle assembly. I thought Stark was yet a day's march away.\"\n\nShae shook her head, lost. Her eyes were wide and white.\n\nGroaning, Tyrion lurched to his feet and pushed his way outside, shouting for his squire. Wisps of pale fog drifted through the night, long white fingers off the river. Men and horses blundered through the predawn chill; saddles were being cinched, wagons loaded, fires extinguished. The trumpets blew again: hurry hurry hurry. Knights vaulted onto snorting coursers while men-at-arms buckled their sword belts as they ran. When he found Pod, the boy was snoring softly. Tyrion gave him a sharp poke in the ribs with his toe. \"My armor,\" he said, \"and be quick about it.\" Bronn came trotting out of the mists, already armored and ahorse, wearing his battered halfhelm. \"Do you know what's happened?\" Tyrion asked him.\n\n\"The Stark boy stole a march onus,\" Bronn said. \"He crept down the kingsroad in the night, and now his host is less than a mile north of here, forming up in battle array.\""
},
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"value": "Hurry, the trumpets called, hurry hurry hurry.\n\n\"See that the clansmen are ready to ride.\" Tyrion ducked back inside his tent. \"Where are my clothes?\" he barked at Shae. \"There. No, the leather, damn it. Yes. Bring me my boots.\"\n\nBy the time he was dressed, his squire had laid out his armor, such that it was. Tyrion owned a fine suit of heavy plate, expertly crafted to fit his misshapen body. Alas, it was safe at Casterly Rock, and he was not. He had to make do with oddments assembled from Lord Lefford's wagons: mail hauberk and coif, a dead knight's gorget, lobstered greaves and gauntlets and pointed steel boots. Some of it was ornate, some plain; not a bit of it matched, or fit as it should. His breastplate was meant fora bigger man; for his oversize head, they found a huge bucket-shaped greathelm topped with afoot-long triangular spike.\n\nShae helped Pod with the buckles and clasps. \"If I die, weep for me,\" Tyrion told the whore.\n\n\"How will you know? You'll be dead.\"\n\n\"I'll know.\"\n\n\"I believe you would.\" Shae lowered the greathelm down over his head, and Pod fastened it to his gorget. Tyrion buckled on his belt, heavy with the weight of shortsword and dirk. By then his groom had brought up his mount, a formidable brown courser armored as heavily as he was. He needed help to mount; he felt as though he weighed a thousand stone. Pod handed him up his shield, a massive slab of heavy ironwood banded with steel. Lastly they gave him his battle-axe. Shae stepped back and looked him over. \"M'lord looks fearsome.\""
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"value": "\"M'lord looks a dwarf in mismatched armor,\" Tyrion answered sourly, \"but I thank you for the kindness. Podrick, should the battle go against us, seethe lady safely home.\" He saluted her with his axe, wheeled his horse about, and trotted off. His stomach was a hard knot, so tight it pained him. Behind, his servants hurriedly began to strike his tent. Pale crimson fingers fanned out to the east as the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon. The western sky was a deep purple, speckled with stars. Tyrion wondered whether this was the last sunrise he would ever see... and whether wondering was a mark of cowardice. Did his brother Jaime ever contemplate death before a battle?\n\nA warhorn sounded in the far distance, a deep mournful note that chilled the soul. The clansmen climbed onto their scrawny mountain horses, shouting curses and rude jokes. Several appeared to be drunk. The rising sun was burning off the drifting tendrils of fog as Tyrion led them off. What grass the horses had left was heavy with dew, as if some passing god had scattered a bag of diamonds over the earth. The mountain men fell in behind him, each clan arrayed behind its own leaders.\n\nIn the dawn light, the army of Lord Tywin Lannister unfolded like an iron rose, thorns gleaming.\n\nHis uncle would lead the center. Ser Kevan had raised his standards above the kingsroad. Quivers hanging from their belts, the foot archers arrayed themselves into three long lines, to east and west of the road, and stood calmly stringing their bows. Between them, pikemen formed squares; behind were rank on rank of men-at-arms with spear and sword and axe. Three hundred heavy horse surrounded Ser Kevan and the lords bannermen Lefford, Lydden, and Serrett with all their sworn retainers."
},
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"value": "The right wing was all cavalry, some four thousand men, heavy with the weight of their armor. More than three quarters of the knights were there, massed together like a great steel fist. Ser Addam Marbrand had the command. Tyrion saw his banner unfurl as his standard-bearer shook it out; a burning tree, orange and smoke. Behind him flew Ser Flement's purple unicorn, the brindled boar of Crakehall, the bantam rooster of Swyft, and more.\n\nHis lord father took his place on the hill where he had slept. Around him, the reserve assembled; a huge force, half mounted and half foot, five thousand strong. Lord Tywin almost always chose to command the reserve; he would take the high ground and watch the battle unfold below him, committing his forces when and where they were needed most.\n\nEven from afar, his lord father was resplendent. Tywin Lannister's battle armor put his son Jaime's gilded suit to shame. His greatcloak was sewn from countless layers of cloth-of-gold, so heavy that it barely stirred even when he charged, so large that its drape covered most of his stallion's hindquarters when he took the saddle. No ordinary clasp would suffice for such a weight, so the greatcloak was held in place by a matched pair of miniature lionesses crouching on his shoulders, as if poised to spring. Their mate, a male with a magnificent mane, reclined atop Lord Tywin's greathelm, one paw raking the air as he roared. All three lions were wrought in gold, with ruby eyes. His armor was heavy steel plate, enameled in a dark crimson, greaves and gauntlets inlaid with ornate gold scrollwork. His rondels were golden sunbursts, all his fastenings were gilded, and the red steel was burnished to such a high sheen that it shone like fire in the light of the rising sun."
},
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"value": "Tyrion could hear the rumble of the foemen's drums now. He remembered Robb Stark as he had last seen him, in his father's high seat in the Great Hall of Winterfell, a sword naked and shining in his hands. He remembered how the direwolves had come at him out of the shadows, and suddenly he could see them again, snarling and snapping, teeth bared in his face. Would the boy bring his wolves to war with him? The thought made him uneasy.\n\nThe northerners would be exhausted after their long sleepless march. Tyrion wondered what the boy had been thinking. Did he think to take them unawares while they slept? Small chance of that; whatever else might be said of him, Tywin Lannister was no man's fool.\n\nThe van was massing on the left. He saw the standard first, three black dogs on a yellow field. Ser Gregor sat beneath it, mounted on the biggest horse Tyrion had ever seen. Bronn took one look at him and grinned. \"Always follow a big man into battle.\"\n\nTyrion threw him a hard look. \"And why is that?\"\n\n\"They make such splendid targets. That one, he'll draw the eyes of every bowman on the field.\"\n\nLaughing, Tyrion regarded the Mountain with fresh eyes. \"I confess, I had not considered it in that light.\"\n\nClegane had no splendor about him; his armor was steel plate, dull grey, scarred by hard use and showing neither sigil nor ornament. He was pointing men into position with his blade, a two-handed greatsword that Ser Gregor waved about with one hand as a lesser man might wave a dagger. \"Any man runs, I'll cut him down myself,\" he was roaring when he caught sight of Tyrion. \"Imp! Take the left. Hold the river. If you can.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The left of the left. To turn their flank, the Starks would need horses that could run on water. Tyrion led his men toward the riverbank. \"Look,\" he shouted, pointing with his axe. \"The river.\" A blanket of pale mist still clung to the surface of the water, the murky green current swirling past underneath. The shallows were muddy and choked with reeds. \"That river is ours. Whatever happens, keep close to the water. Never lose sight of it. Let no enemy come between us and our river. If they dirty our waters, hack off their cocks and feed them to the fishes.\"\n\nShagga had an axe in either hand. He smashed them together and made them ring. \"Halfman!\" he shouted. Other Stone Crows picked up the cry, and the Black Ears and Moon Brothers as well. The Burned Men did not shout, but they rattled their swords and spears. \"Halfman! Halfman! Halfman!\"\n\nTyrion turned his courser in a circle to look over the field. The ground was rolling and uneven here; soft and muddy near the river, rising in a gentle slope toward the kingsroad, stony and broken beyond it, to the east. A few trees spotted the hillsides, but most of the land had been cleared and planted. His heart pounded in his chest in time to the drums, and under his layers of leather and steel his brow was cold with sweat. He watched Ser Gregor as the Mountain rode up and down the line, shouting and gesticulating. This wing too was all cavalry, but where the right was a mailed fist of knights and heavy lancers, the vanguard was made up of the sweepings of the west: mounted archers in leather jerkins, a swarming mass of undisciplined freeriders and sellswords, fieldhands on plow horses armed with scythes and their fathers' rusted swords, half-trained boys from the stews of Lannisport... and Tyrion and his mountain clansmen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Crow food,\" Bronn muttered beside him, giving voice to what Tyrion had left unsaid."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could only nod. Had his lord father taken leave of his senses? No pikes, too few bowmen, a bare handful of knights, the ill-armed and unarmored, commanded by an unthinking brute who led with his rage... how could his father expect this travesty of a battle to hold his left?\n\nHe had no time to think about it. The drums were so near that the beat crept under his skin and set his hands to twitching. Bronn drew his longsword, and suddenly the enemy was there before them, boiling over the tops of the hills, advancing with measured tread behind a wall of shields and pikes.\n\nGods be damned, look at them all, Tyrion thought, though he knew his father had more men on the field. Their captains led them on armored warhorses, standard-bearers riding alongside with their banners. He glimpsed the bull moose of the Hornwoods, the Karstark sunburst, Lord Cerwyn's battle-axe, and the mailed fist of the Glovers... and the twin towers of Frey, blue on grey. So much for his father's certainty that Lord Walder would not bestir himself. The white of House Stark was seen everywhere, the grey direwolves seeming to run and leap as the banners swirled and streamed from the high staffs. Where is the boy? Tyrion wondered.\n\nA warhorn blew. Haroooooooooooooooooooooooo, it cried, its voice as long and low and chilling as a cold wind from the north. The Lannister trumpets answered, da-DA da-DA da-DAAAAAAAAA, brazen and defiant, yet it seemed to Tyrion that they sounded somehow smaller, more anxious. He could feel a fluttering in his bowels, a queasy liquid feeling; he hoped he was not going to die sick."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "As the horns died away, a hissing filled the air; avast flight of arrows arched up from his right, where the archers stood flanking the road. The northerners broke into a run, shouting as they came, but the Lannister arrows fell on them like hail, hundreds of arrows, thousands, and shouts turned to screams as men stumbled and went down. By then a second flight was in the air, and the archers were fitting a third arrow to their bowstrings.\n\nThe trumpets blared again, da-DAAA da-DAAA da-DA da-DA da-DAAAAAAA. Ser Gregor waved his huge sword and bellowed a command, and a thousand other voices screamed back at him. Tyrion put his spurs to his horse and added one more voice to the cacophony, and the van surged forward. \"The river!\" he shouted at his clansmen as they rode. \"Remember, hew to the river.\" He was still leading when they broke a canter, until Chella gave a bloodcurdling shriek and galloped past him, and Shagga howled and followed. The clansmen charged after them, leaving Tyrion in their dust.\n\nA crescent of enemy spearmen had formed ahead, a double hedgehog bristling with steel, waiting behind tall oaken shields marked with the sunburst of Karstark. Gregor Clegane was the first to reach them, leading a wedge of armored veterans. Half the horses shied at the last second, breaking their charge before the row of spears. The others died, sharp steel points ripping through their chests. Tyrion saw a dozen men go down. The Mountain's stallion reared, lashing outwith iron-shod hooves as a barbed spearhead raked across his neck. Maddened, the beast lunged into the ranks. Spears thrust at him from every side, but the shield wall broke beneath his weight. The northerners stumbled away from the animal's death throes. As his horse fell, snorting blood and biting with his last red breath, the Mountain rose untouched, laying about him with his two-handed greatsword."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Shagga went bursting through the gap before the shields could close, other Stone Crows hard behind him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion shouted, \"Burned Men! Moon Brothers! After me!\" but most of them were ahead of him. He glimpsed Timett son of Timett vault free as his mount died under him in full stride, saw a Moon Brother impaled on a Karstark spear, watched Conn's horse shatter a man's ribs with a kick. A flight of arrows descended on them; where they came from he could not say, but they fell on Stark and Lannister alike, rattling off armor or finding flesh. Tyrion lifted his shield and hid beneath it.\n\nThe hedgehog was crumbling, the northerners reeling back under the impact of the mounted assault. Tyrion saw Shagga catch a spearman full in the chest as the fool came on at a run, saw his axe shear through mail and leather and muscle and lungs. The man was dead on his feet, the axehead lodged in his breast, yet Shagga rode on, cleaving a shield in two with his left-hand battle-axe while the corpse was bouncing and stumbling bonelessly along on his right. Finally the dead man slid off. Shagga smashed the two axes together and roared.\n\nBy then the enemy was on him, and Tyrion's battle shrunk to the few feet of ground around his horse. A man-at-arms thrust at his chest and his axe lashed out, knocking the spear aside. The man danced back for another try, but Tyrion spurred his horse and rode right over him. Bronn was surrounded by three foes, but he lopped the head off the first spear that came at him, and raked his blade across a second man's face on his backslash.\n\nA thrown spear came hurtling at Tyrion from the left and lodged in his shield with a woody chunk. He wheeled and raced after the thrower, but the man raised his own shield over his head. Tyrion circled around him, raining axe blows down on the wood. Chips of oak went flying, until the northerner lost his feet and slipped, falling flat on his back with his shield on top of him. He was below the reach of Tyrion's axe and it was too much bother to dismount, so he left him there and rode after another man, taking him from behind with a sweeping downcut that sent a jolt of impact up his arm. That won him a moment's respite. Reining up, he looked for the river. There it was, off to the right. Somehow he had gotten turned around."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A Burned Man rode past, slumped against his horse. A spear had entered his belly and come out through his back. He was past any help, but when Tyrion saw one of the northerners run up and make a grab for his reins, he charged.\n\nHis quarry met him sword in hand. He was tall and spare, wearing along chainmail hauberk and gauntlets of lobstered steel, but he'd lost his helm and blood ran down into his eyes from a gash across his forehead. Tyrion aimed a swipe at his face, but the tall man slammed it aside. \"Dwarf,\" he screamed. \"Die.\" He turned in a circle as Tyrion rode around him, hacking at his head and shoulders. Steel rang on steel, and Tyrion soon realized that the tall man was quicker and stronger than he was. Wherein the seven hells was Bronn? \"Die,\" the man grunted, chopping at him savagely. Tyrion barely got his shield up in time, and the wood seemed to explode inward under the force of the blow. The shattered pieces fell away from his arm. \"Die!\" the swordsman bellowed, shoving in close and whanging Tyrion across the temple so hard his head rang. The blade made a hideous scraping sound as he drew it back over the steel. The tall man grinned... until Tyrion's destrier bit, quick as a snake, laying his cheek bare to the bone. Then he screamed. Tyrion buried his axe in his head. \"You die,\" he told him, and he did.\n\nAshe wrenched the blade free, he heard a shout. \"Eddard!\" a voice rang out. \"For Eddard and Winterfell!\" The knight came thundering down on him, swinging the spiked ball of a morningstar around his head. Their warhorses slammed together before Tyrion could so much as open his mouth to shout for Bronn. His right elbow exploded with pain as the spikes punched through the thin metal around the joint. His axe was gone, as fast as that. He clawed for his sword, but the morningstar was circling again, coming at his face. A sickening crunch, and he was falling. He did not recall hitting the ground, but when he looked up there was only sky above him. He rolled onto his side and tried to find his feet, but pain shuddered through him and the world throbbed. The knight who had felled him drew up above him. \"Tyrion the Imp,\" he boomed down. \"You are mine. Do you yield, Lannister?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yes, Tyrion thought, but the word caught in his throat. He made a croaking sound and fought his way to his knees, fumbling fora weapon. His sword, his dirk, anything...\n\n\"Do you yield?\" The knight loomed overhead on his armored warhorse. Man and horse both seemed immense. The spiked ball swung in a lazy circle. Tyrion's hands were numb, his vision blurred, his scabbard empty. \"Yield or die,\" the knight declared, his flail whirling faster and faster.\n\nTyrion lurched to his feet, driving his head into the horse's belly. The animal gave a hideous scream and reared. It tried to twist away from the agony, a shower of blood and viscera poured down over Tyrion's face, and the horse fell like an avalanche. The next he knew, his visor was packed with mud and something was crushing his foot. He wriggled free, his throat so tight he could scarce talk. \"... yield...\" he managed to croak faintly.\n\n\"Yes,\" a voice moaned, thick with pain.\n\nTyrion scraped the mud off his helm so he could see again. The horse had fallen away from him, onto its rider. The knight's leg was trapped, the arm he'd used to break his fall twisted at a grotesque angle. \"Yield,\" he repeated. Fumbling at his belt with his good hand, he drew a sword and flung it at Tyrion's feet. \"I yield, my lord.\"\n\nDazed, the dwarf knelt and lifted the blade. Pain hammered through his elbow when he moved his arm. The battle seemed to have moved beyond him. No one remained on his part of the field save a large number of corpses. Ravens were already circling and landing to feed. He saw that Ser Kevan had brought up his center in support of the van; his huge mass of pikemen had pushed the northerners back against the hills. They were struggling on the slopes, pikes thrusting against another wall of shields, these oval and reinforced with iron studs. Ashe watched, the air filled with arrows again, and the men behind the oak wall crumbled beneath the murderous fire. \"I believe you are losing, ser,\" he told the knight under the horse. The man made no reply."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Work to move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 65"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yes, Tyrion thought, but the word caught in his throat. He made a croaking sound and fought his way to his knees, fumbling fora weapon. His sword, his dirk, anything...\n\n\"Do you yield?\" The knight loomed overhead on his armored warhorse. Man and horse both seemed immense. The spiked ball swung in a lazy circle. Tyrion's hands were numb, his vision blurred, his scabbard empty. \"Yield or die,\" the knight declared, his flail whirling faster and faster.\n\nTyrion lurched to his feet, driving his head into the horse's belly. The animal gave a hideous scream and reared. It tried to twist away from the agony, a shower of blood and viscera poured down over Tyrion's face, and the horse fell like an avalanche. The next he knew, his visor was packed with mud and something was crushing his foot. He wriggled free, his throat so tight he could scarce talk. \"... yield...\" he managed to croak faintly.\n\n\"Yes,\" a voice moaned, thick with pain.\n\nTyrion scraped the mud off his helm so he could see again. The horse had fallen away from him, onto its rider. The knight's leg was trapped, the arm he'd used to break his fall twisted at a grotesque angle. \"Yield,\" he repeated. Fumbling at his belt with his good hand, he drew a sword and flung it at Tyrion's feet. \"I yield, my lord.\"\n\nDazed, the dwarf knelt and lifted the blade. Pain hammered through his elbow when he moved his arm. The battle seemed to have moved beyond him. No one remained on his part of the field save a large number of corpses. Ravens were already circling and landing to feed. He saw that Ser Kevan had brought up his center in support of the van; his huge mass of pikemen had pushed the northerners back against the hills. They were struggling on the slopes, pikes thrusting against another wall of shields, these oval and reinforced with iron studs. Ashe watched, the air filled with arrows again, and the men behind the oak wall crumbled beneath the murderous fire. \"I believe you are losing, ser,\" he told the knight under the horse. The man made no reply."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The sound of hooves coming up behind him made him whirl, though he could scarcely lift the sword he held for the agony in his elbow. Bronn reined up and looked down on him.\n\n\"Small use you turned out to be,\" Tyrion told him.\n\n\"It would seem you did well enough on your own,\" Bronn answered. \"You've lost the spike off your helm, though.\"\n\nTyrion groped at the top of the greathelm. The spike had snapped off clean. \"I haven't lost it. I know just where it is. Do you see my horse?\"\n\nBy the time they found it, the trumpets had sounded again and Lord Tywin's reserve came sweeping up along the river. Tyrion watched his father flypast, the crimson-and-gold banner of Lannister rippling over his head as he thundered across the field. Five hundred knights surrounded him, sunlight flashing off the points of their lances. The remnants of the Stark lines shattered like glass beneath the hammer of their charge.\n\nWith his elbow swollen and throbbing inside his armor, Tyrion made no attempt to join the slaughter. He and Bronn went looking for his men. Many he found among the dead. Ulf son of Umar lay in a pool of congealing blood, his arm gone at the elbow, a dozen of his Moon Brothers sprawled around him. Shagga was slumped beneath a tree, riddled with arrows, Conn's head in his lap. Tyrion thought they were both dead, but as he dismounted, Shagga opened his eyes and said, \"They have killed Conn son of Coratt.\" Handsome Conn had no mark but for the red stain over his breast, where the spear thrust had killed him. When Bronn pulled Shagga to his feet, the big man seemed to notice the arrows for the first time. He plucked them out one by one, cursing the holes they had made in his layers of mail and leather, and yowling like a babe at the few that had buried themselves in his flesh. Chella daughter of Cheyk rode up as they were yanking arrows out of Shagga, and showed them four ears she had taken. Timett they discovered looting the bodies of the slain with his Burned Men. Of the three hundred clansmen who had ridden to battle behind Tyrion Lannister, perhaps half had survived."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He left the living to look after the dead, sent Bronn to take charge of his captive knight, and went alone in search of his father. Lord Tywin was seated by the river, sipping wine from a jeweled cup as his squire undid the fastenings on his breastplate. \"A fine victory,\" Ser Kevan said when he saw Tyrion. \"Your wild men fought well.\"\n\nHis father's eyes were on him, pale green flecked with gold, so cool they gave Tyrion a chill. \"Did that surprise you, Father?\" he asked. \"Did it upset your plans? We were supposed to be butchered, were we not?\"\n\nLord Tywin drained his cup, his face expressionless. \"I put the least disciplined men on the left, yes. I anticipated that they would break. Robb Stark is a green boy, more like to be brave than wise. I'd hoped that if he saw our left collapse, he might plunge into the gap, eager fora rout. Once he was fully committed, Ser Kevan's pikes would wheel and take him in the flank, driving him into the river while I brought up the reserve.\"\n\n\"And you thought it best to place me in the midst of this carnage, yet keep me ignorant of your plans.\"\n\n\"A feigned rout is less convincing,\" his father said, \"and I am not inclined to trust my plans to a man who consorts with sellswords and savages.\"\n\n\"A pity my savages ruined your dance.\" Tyrion pulled off his steel gauntlet and let it fall to the ground, wincing at the pain that stabbed up his arm.\n\n\"The Stark boy proved more cautious than I expected for one of his years,\" Lord Tywin admitted, \"but a victory is a victory. You appear to be wounded.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion's right arm was soaked with blood. \"Good of you to notice, Father,\" he said through clenched teeth. \"Might I trouble you to send for your maesters? Unless you relish the notion of having a one-armed dwarf fora son...\"\n\nAn urgent shout of'Lord Tywin!\" turned his father's head before he could reply. Tywin Lannister rose to his feet as Ser Addam Marbrand leapt down off his courser. The horse was lathered and bleeding from the mouth. Ser Addam dropped to one knee, a rangy man with dark copper hair that fell to his shoulders, armored in burnished bronzed steel with the fiery tree of his House etched black on his breastplate. \"My liege, we have taken some of their commanders. Lord Cerwyn, Ser Wylis Manderly, Harrion Karstark, four Freys. Lord Hornwood is dead, and I fear Roose Bolton has escaped us.\"\n\n\"And the boy?\" Lord Tywin asked.\n\nSer Addam hesitated. \"The Stark boy was not with them, my lord. They say he crossed at the Twins with the great part of his horse, riding hard for Riverrun.\"\n\nA green boy, Tyrion remembered, more like to be brave than wise. He would have laughed, if he hadn't hurt so much."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The woods were full of whispers.\n\nMoonlight winked on the tumbling waters of the stream below as it wound its rocky way along the floor of the valley. Beneath the trees, warhorses whickered softly and pawed at the moist, leafy ground, while men made nervous jests in hushed voices. Now and again, she heard the chink of spears, the faint metallic slither of chain mail, but even those sounds were muffled.\n\n\"It should not belong now, my lady,\" Hallis Mollen said. He had asked for the honor of protecting her in the battle to come; it was his right, as Winterfell's captain of guards, and Robb had not refused it to him. She had thirty men around her, charged to keep her unharmed and see her safely home to Winterfell if the fighting went against them. Robb had wanted fifty; Catelyn had insisted that ten would be enough, that he would need every sword for the fight. They made their peace at thirty, neither happy with it.\n\n\"It will come when it comes,\" Catelyn told him. When it came, she knew it would mean death. Hal's death perhaps... or hers, or Robb's. No one was safe. No life was certain. Catelyn was content to wait, to listen to the whispers in the woods and the faint music of the brook, to feel the warm wind in her hair.\n\nShe was no stranger to waiting, after all. Her men had always made her wait. \"Watch for me, little cat,\" her father would always tell her, when he rode off to court or fair or battle. And she would, standing patiently on the battlements of Riverrun as the waters of the Red Fork and the Tumblestone flowed by. He did not always come when he said he would, and days would ofttimes pass as Catelyn stood her vigil, peering out between crenels and through arrow loops until she caught a glimpse of Lord Hoster on his old brown gelding, trotting along the river-shore toward the landing. \"Did you watch for me?\" he'd ask when he bent to hug her. \"Did you, little cat?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Brandon Stark had bid her wait as well."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I shall not belong, my lady,\" he had vowed. \"We will be wed on my return.\" Yet when the day came at last, it was his brother Eddard who stood beside her in the sept.\n\nNed had lingered scarcely a fortnight with his new bride before he too had ridden off to war with promises on his lips. At least he had left her with more than words; he had given her a son. Nine moons had waxed and waned, and Robb had been born in Riverrun while his father still warred in the south. She had brought him forth in blood and pain, not knowing whether Ned would ever see him. Her son. He had been so small...\n\nAnd now it was for Robb that she waited... for Robb, and for Jaime Lannister, the gilded knight who men said had never learned to wait at all. \"The Kingslayer is restless, and quick to anger,\" her uncle Brynden had told Robb. And he had wagered their lives and their best hope of victory on the truth of what he said.\n\nIf Robb was frightened, he gave no sign of it. Catelyn watched her son as he moved among the men, touching one on the shoulder, sharing a jest with another, helping a third to gentle an anxious horse. His armor clinked softly when he moved. Only his head was bare. Catelyn watched a breeze stir his auburn hair, so like her own, and wondered when her son had grown so big. Fifteen, and near as tall as she was.\n\nLet him grow taller, she asked the gods. Let him know sixteen, and twenty, and fifty. Let him grow as tall as his father, and hold his own son in his arms. Please, please, please. As she watched him, this tall young man with the new beard and the direwolf prowling at his heels, all she could see was the babe they had laid at her breast at Riverrun, so long ago."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The night was warm, but the thought of Riverrun was enough to make her shiver. Where are they? she wondered. Could her uncle have been wrong? So much rested on the truth of what he had told them. Robb had given the Blackfish three hundred picked men, and sent them ahead to screen his march. \"Jaime does not know,\" Ser Brynden said when he rode back. \"I'll stake my life on that. No bird has reached him, my archers have seen to that. We've seen a few of his outriders, but those that saw us did not live to tell of it. He ought to have sent out more. He does not know.\"\n\n\"How large is his host?\" her son asked.\n\n\"Twelve thousand foot, scattered around the castle in three separate camps, with the rivers between,\" her uncle said, with the craggy smile she remembered so well. \"There is no other way to besiege Riverrun, yet still, that will be their undoing. Two or three thousand horse.\"\n\n\"The Kingslayer has us three to one,\" said Galbart Glover.\n\n\"True enough,\" Ser Brynden said, \"yet there is one thing Ser Jaime lacks.\"\n\n\"Yes?\" Robb asked.\n\n\"Patience.\"\n\nTheir host was greater than it had been when they left the Twins. Lord Jason Mallister had brought his power out from Seagard to join them as they swept around the headwaters of the Blue Fork and galloped south, and others had crept forth as well, hedge knights and small lords and masterless men-at-arms who had fled north when her brother Edmure's army was shattered beneath the walls of Riverrun. They had driven their horses as hard as they dared to reach this place before Jaime Lannister had word of their coming, and now the hour was at hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Catelyn watched her son mount up."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Olyvar Frey held his horse for him, Lord Walder's son, two years older than Robb, and ten years younger and more anxious. He strapped Robb's shield in place and handed up his helm. When he lowered it over the face she loved so well, a tall young knight sat on his grey stallion where her son had been. It was dark among the trees, where the moon did not reach. When Robb turned his head to look at her, she could see only black inside his visor. \"I must ride down the line, Mother,\" he told her. \"Father says you should let the men see you before a battle.\"\n\n\"Go, then,\" she said. \"Let them see you.\"\n\n\"It will give them courage,\" Robb said.\n\nAnd who will give me courage? she wondered, yet she kept her silence and made herself smile for him. Robb turned the big grey stallion and walked him slowly away from her, Grey Wind shadowing his steps. Behind him his battle guard formed up. When he'd forced Catelyn to accept her protectors, she had insisted that he be guarded as well, and the lords bannermen had agreed. Many of their sons had clamored for the honor of riding with the Young Wolf, as they had taken to calling him. Torrhen Karstark and his brother Eddard were among his thirty, and Patrek Mallister, Smalljon Umber, Daryn Hornwood, Theon Greyjoy, no less than five of Walder Frey's vast brood, along with older men like Ser Wendel Manderly and Robin Flint. One of his companions was even a woman: Dacey Mormont, Lady Maege's eldest daughter and heir to Bear Island, a lanky six-footer who had been given a morningstar at an age when most girls were given dolls. Some of the other lords muttered about that, but Catelyn would not listen to their complaints. \"This is not about the honor of your houses,\" she told them. \"This is about keeping my son alive and whole.\""
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"value": "And if it comes to that, she wondered, will thirty be enough? Will six thousand be enough?\n\nA bird called faintly in the distance, a high sharp trill that felt like an icy hand on Catelyn's neck. Another bird answered; a third, a fourth. She knew their call well enough, from her years at Winterfell. Snow shrikes. Sometimes you saw them in the deep of winter, when the godswood was white and still. They were northern birds.\n\nThey are coming, Catelyn thought.\n\n\"They're coming, my lady,\" Hal Mollen whispered. He was always a man for stating the obvious. \"Gods be with us.\"\n\nShe nodded as the woods grew still around them. In the quiet she could hear them, far off yet moving closer; the tread of many horses, the rattle of swords and spears and armor, the murmur of human voices, with here a laugh, and there a curse.\n\nEons seemed to come and go. The sounds grew louder. She heard more laughter, a shouted command, splashing as they crossed and recrossed the little stream. A horse snorted. A man swore. And then at last she saw him... only for an instant, framed between the branches of the trees as she looked down at the valley floor, yet she knew it was him. Even at a distance, Ser Jaime Lannister was unmistakable. The moonlight had silvered his armor and the gold of his hair, and turned his crimson cloak to black. He was not wearing a helm.\n\nHe was there and he was gone again, his silvery armor obscured by the trees once more. Others came behind him, long columns of them, knights and sworn swords and freeriders, three quarters of the Lannister horse."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He is no man for sitting in a tent while his carpenters build siege towers,\" Ser Brynden had promised. \"He has ridden outwith his knights thrice already, to chase down raiders or storm a stubborn holdfast.\"\n\nNodding, Robb had studied the map her uncle had drawn him. Ned had taught him to read maps. \"Raid him here,\" he said, pointing. \"A few hundred men, no more. Tully banners. When he comes after you, we will be waiting\"-his finger moved an inch to the left-\"here.\"\n\nHere was a hush in the night, moonlight and shadows, a thick carpet of dead leaves underfoot, densely wooded ridges sloping gently down to the streambed, the underbrush thinning as the ground fell away.\n\nHere washer son on his stallion, glancing back at her one last time and lifting his sword in salute.\n\nHere was the call of Maege Mormont's warhorn, along low blast that rolled down the valley from the east, to tell them that the last of Jaime's riders had entered the trap.\n\nAnd Grey Wind threw back his head and howled.\n\nThe sound seemed to go right through Catelyn Stark, and she found herself shivering. It was a terrible sound, a frightening sound, yet there was music in it too. Fora second she felt something like pity for the Lannisters below. So this is what death sounds like, she thought.\n\nHAAroooooooooooooooooooooooo came the answer from the far ridge as the Greatjon winded his own horn. To east and west, the trumpets of the Mallisters and Freys blew vengeance. North, where the valley narrowed and bent like a cocked elbow, Lord Karstark's warhorns added their own deep, mournful voices to the dark chorus. Men were shouting and horses rearing in the stream below."
},
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The whispering wood let out its breath all at once, as the bowmen Robb had hidden in the branches of the trees let fly their arrows and the night erupted with the screams of men and horses. All around her, the riders raised their lances, and the dirt and leaves that had buried the cruel bright points fell away to reveal the gleam of sharpened steel. \"Winterfell!\" she heard Robb shout as the arrows sighed again. He moved away from her at a trot, leading his men downhill.\n\nCatelyn sat on her horse, unmoving, with Hal Mollen and her guard around her, and she waited as she had waited before, for Brandon and Ned and her father. She was high on the ridge, and the trees hid most of what was going on beneath her. A heartbeat, two, four, and suddenly it was as if she and her protectors were alone in the wood. The rest were melted away into the green.\n\nYet when she looked across the valley to the far ridge, she saw the Greatjon's riders emerge from the darkness beneath the trees. They were in along line, an endless line, and as they burst from the wood there was an instant, the smallest part of a heartbeat, when all Catelyn saw was the moonlight on the points of their lances, as if a thousand willowisps were coming down the ridge, wreathed in silver flame.\n\nThen she blinked, and they were only men, rushing down to kill or die.\n\nAfterward, she could not claim she had seen the battle. Yet she could hear, and the valley rang with echoes. The crack of a broken lance, the clash of swords, the cries of'Lannister\" and'Winterfell\" and'Tully! Riverrun and Tully!\" When she realized there was no more to see, she closed her eyes and listened. The battle came alive around her. She heard hoofbeats, iron boots splashing in shallow water, the woody sound of swords on oaken shields and the scrape of steel against steel, the hiss of arrows, the thunder of drums, the terrified screaming of a thousand horses. Men shouted curses and begged for mercy, and got it (or not), and lived (or died). The ridges seemed to play queer tricks with sound. Once she heard Robb's voice, as clear as if he'd been standing at her side, calling, \"Tome! Tome!\" And she heard his direwolf, snarling and growling, heard the snap of those long teeth, the tearing of flesh, shrieks of fear and pain from man and horse alike. Was there only one wolf? It was hard to be certain."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Little by little, the sounds dwindled and died, until at last there was only the wolf. As a red dawn broke in the east, Grey Wind began to howl again.\n\nRobb came back to heron a different horse, riding a piebald gelding in the place of the grey stallion he had taken down into the valley. The wolf's head on his shield was slashed half to pieces, raw wood showing where deep gouges had been hacked in the oak, but Robb himself seemed unhurt. Yet when he came closer, Catelyn saw that his mailed glove and the sleeve of his surcoat were black with blood. \"You're hurt,\" she said.\n\nRobb lifted his hand, opened and closed his fingers. \"No,\" he said. \"This is... Torrhen's blood, perhaps, or...\" He shook his head. \"I do not know.\"\n\nA mob of men followed him up the slope, dirty and dented and grinning, with Theon and the Greatjon at their head. Between them they dragged Ser Jaime Lannister. They threw him down in front of her horse. \"The Kingslayer,\" Hal announced, unnecessarily.\n\nLannister raised his head. \"Lady Stark,\" he said from his knees. Blood ran down one cheek from a gash across his scalp, but the pale light of dawn had put the glint of gold back in his hair. \"I would offer you my sword, but I seem to have mislaid it.\"\n\n\"It is not your sword I want, ser,\" she told him. \"Give me my father and my brother Edmure. Give me my daughters. Give me my lord husband.\"\n\n\"I have mislaid them as well, I fear.\"\n\n\"A pity,\" Catelyn said coldly."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Kill him, Robb,\" Theon Greyjoy urged. \"Take his head off.\"\n\n\"No,\" her son answered, peeling off his bloody glove. \"He's more use alive than dead. And my lord father never condoned the murder of prisoners after a battle.\"\n\n\"A wise man,\" Jaime Lannister said, \"and honorable.\"\n\n\"Take him away and put him in irons,\" Catelyn said.\n\n\"Do as my lady mother says,\" Robb commanded, \"and make certain there's a strong guard around him. Lord Karstark will want his head on a pike.\"\n\n\"That he will,\" the Greatjon agreed, gesturing. Lannister was led away to be bandaged and chained.\n\n\"Why should Lord Karstark want him dead?\" Catelyn asked.\n\nRobb looked away into the woods, with the same brooding look that Ned often got. \"He... he killed them...\"\n\n\"Lord Karstark's sons,\" Galbart Glover explained.\n\n\"Both of them,\" said Robb. \"Torrhen and Eddard. And Daryn Hornwood as well.\"\n\n\"No one can fault Lannister on his courage,\" Glover said. \"When he saw that he was lost, he rallied his retainers and fought his way up the valley, hoping to reach Lord Robb and cut him down. And almost did.\"\n\n\"He mislaid his sword in Eddard Karstark's neck, after he took Torrhen's hand off and split Daryn Hornwood's skull open,\" Robb said. \"All the time he was shouting for me. If they hadn't tried to stop him-\"\n\n\"-I should then be mourning in place of Lord Karstark,\" Catelyn said. \"Your men did what they were sworn to do, Robb. They died protecting their liege lord. Grieve for them. Honor them for their valor. But not now. You have no time for grief. You may have lopped the head off the snake, but three quarters of the body is still coiled around my father's castle. We have won a battle, not a war.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But such a battle!\" said Theon Greyjoy eagerly. \"My lady, the realm has not seen such a victory since the Field of Fire. I vow, the Lannisters lost ten men for everyone of ours that fell. We've taken close to a hundred knights captive, and a dozen lords bannermen. Lord Westerling, Lord Banefort, Ser Garth Greenfield, Lord Estren, Ser Tytos Brax, Mallor the Dornishman... and three Lannisters besides Jaime, Lord Tywin's own nephews, two of his sister's sons and one of his dead brother's...\"\n\n\"And Lord Tywin?\" Catelyn interrupted. \"Have you perchance taken Lord Tywin, Theon?\"\n\n\"No,\" Greyjoy answered, brought up short.\n\n\"Until you do, this war is far from done.\"\n\nRobb raised his head and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. \"My mother is right. We still have Riverrun.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The flies circled Khal Drogo slowly, their wings buzzing, a low thrum at the edge of hearing that filled Dany with dread.\n\nThe sun was high and pitiless. Heat shimmered in waves off the stony outcrops of low hills. A thin finger of sweat trickled slowly between Dany's swollen breasts. The only sounds were the steady clop of their horses\" hooves, the rhythmic tingle of the bells in Drogo's hair, and the distant voices behind them.\n\nDany watched the flies.\n\nThey were as large as bees, gross, purplish, glistening. The Dothraki called them bloodflies. They lived in marshes and stagnant pools, sucked blood from man and horse alike, and laid their eggs in the dead and dying. Drogo hated them. Whenever one came near him, his hand would shootout quick as a striking snake to close around it. She had never seen him miss. He would hold the fly inside his huge fist long enough to hear its frantic buzzing. Then his fingers would tighten, and when he opened his hand again, the fly would be only a red smear on his palm.\n\nNow one crept across the rump of his stallion, and the horse gave an angry flick of its tail to brush it away. The others flitted about Drogo, closer and closer. The khal did not react. His eyes were fixed on distant brown hills, the reins loose in his hands. Beneath his painted vest, a plaster of fig leaves and caked blue mud covered the wound on his breast. The herbwomen had made it for him. Mirri Maz Duur's poultice had itched and burned, and he had torn it off six days ago, cursing her fora maegi. The mud plaster was more soothing, and the herbwomen made him poppy wine as well. He'd been drinking it heavily these past three days; when it was not poppy wine, it was fermented mare's milk or pepper beer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Yet he scarcely touched his food, and he thrashed and groaned in the night."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany could see how drawn his face had become. Rhaego was restless in her belly, kicking like a stallion, yet even that did not stir Drogo's interest as it had. Every morning her eyes found fresh lines of pain on his face when he woke from his troubled sleep. And now this silence. It was making her afraid. Since they had mounted up at dawn, he had said not a word. When she spoke, she got no answer but a grunt, and not even that much since midday.\n\nOne of the bloodflies landed on the bare skin of the khal's shoulder. Another, circling, touched down on his neck and crept up toward his mouth. Khal Drogo swayed in the saddle, bells ringing, as his stallion kept onward at a steady walking pace.\n\nDany pressed her heels into her silver and rode closer. \"My lord,\" she said softly. \"Drogo. My sun-and-stars.\"\n\nHe did not seem to hear. The bloodfly crawled up under his drooping mustache and settled on his cheek, in the crease beside his nose. Dany gasped, \"Drogo,\" Clumsily she reached over and touched his arm.\n\nKhal Drogo reeled in the saddle, tilted slowly, and fell heavily from his horse. The flies scattered fora heartbeat, and then circled back to settle on him where he lay.\n\n\"No,\" Dany said, reining up. Heedless of her belly for once, she scrambled off her silver and ran to him.\n\nThe grass beneath him was brown and dry. Drogo cried out in pain as Dany knelt beside him. His breath rattled harshly in his throat, and he looked at her without recognition. \"My horse,\" he gasped. Dany brushed the flies off his chest, smashing one as he would have. His skin burned beneath her fingers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The khal's bloodriders had been following just behind them. She heard Haggo shout as they galloped up. Cohollo vaulted from his horse. \"Blood of my blood,\" he said as he dropped to his knees. The other two kept to their mounts.\n\n\"No,\" Khal Drogo groaned, struggling in Dany's arms. \"Must ride. Ride. No.\"\n\n\"He fell from his horse,\" Haggo said, staring down. His broad face was impassive, but his voice was leaden.\n\n\"You must not say that,\" Dany told him. \"We have ridden far enough today. We will camp here.\"\n\n\"Here?\" Haggo looked around them. The land was brown and sere, inhospitable. \"This is no camping ground.\"\n\n\"It is not fora woman to bid us halt,\" said Qotho, \"not even a khaleesi.\"\n\n\"We camp here,\" Dany repeated. \"Haggo, tell them Khal Drogo commanded the halt. If any ask why, say to them that my time is near and I could not continue. Cohollo, bring up the slaves, they must put up the khal's tent at once. Qotho-\"\n\n\"You do not command me, Khaleesi,\" Qotho said.\n\n\"Find Mirri Maz Duur,\" she told him. The godswife would be walking among the other Lamb Men, in the long column of slaves. \"Bring her tome, with her chest.\"\n\nQotho glared down at her, his eyes hard as flint. \"The maegi.\" He spat. \"This I will not do.\"\n\n\"You will,\" Dany said, \"or when Drogo wakes, he will hear why you defied me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Furious, Qotho wheeled his stallion around and galloped off in anger... but Dany knew he would return with Mirri Maz Duur, however little he might like it. The slaves erected Khal Drogo's tent beneath a jagged outcrop of black rock whose shadow gave some relief from the heat of the afternoon sun. Even so, it was stifling under the sandsilk as Irri and Doreah helped Dany walk Drogo inside. Thick patterned carpets had been laid down over the ground, and pillows scattered in the corners. Eroeh, the timid girl Dany had rescued outside the mud walls of the Lamb Men, setup a brazier. They stretched Drogo out on a woven mat. \"No,\" he muttered in the Common Tongue. \"No, no.\" It was all he said, all he seemed capable of saying.\n\nDoreah unhooked his medallion belt and stripped off his vest and leggings, while Jhiqui knelt by his feet to undo the laces of his riding sandals. Irri wanted to leave the tent flaps open to let in the breeze, but Dany forbade it. She would not have any see Drogo this way, in delirium and weakness. When her khas came up, she posted them outside at guard. \"Admit no one without my leave,\" she told Jhogo. \"No one.\"\n\nEroeh stared fearfully at Drogo where he lay. \"He dies,\" she whispered.\n\nDany slapped her. \"The khal cannot die. He is the father of the stallion who mounts the world. His hair has never been cut. He still wears the bells his father gave him.\"\n\n\"Khaleesi,\" Jhiqui said, \"he fell from his horse.\"\n\nTrembling, her eyes full of sudden tears, Dany turned away from them. He fell from his horse! It was so, she had seen it, and the bloodriders, and no doubt her handmaids and the men of her khas as well. And how many more? They could not keep it secret, and Dany knew what that meant. A khal who could not ride could not rule, and Drogo had fallen from his horse."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We must bathe him,\" she said stubbornly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She must not allow herself to despair. \"Irri, have the tub brought at once. Doreah, Eroeh, find water, cool water, he's so hot.\" He was afire inhuman skin.\n\nThe slaves setup the heavy copper tub in the corner of the tent. When Doreah brought the first jar of water, Dany wet a length of silk to lay across Drogo's brow, over the burning skin. His eyes looked at her, but he did not see. When his lips opened, no words escaped them, only a moan. \"Where is Mirri Maz Duur?\" she demanded, her patience rubbed raw with fear.\n\n\"Qotho will find her,\" Irri said.\n\nHer handmaids filled the tub with tepid water that stank of sulfur, sweetening it with jars of bitter oil and handfuls of crushed mint leaves. While the bath was being prepared, Dany knelt awkwardly beside her lord husband, her belly great with their child within. She undid his braid with anxious fingers, as she had on the night he'd taken her for the first time, beneath the stars. His bells she laid aside carefully, one by one. He would want them again when he was well, she told herself.\n\nA breath of air entered the tent as Aggo poked his head through the silk. \"Khaleesi,\" he said, \"the Andal is come, and begs leave to enter.\"\n\n\"The Andal\" was what the Dothraki called Ser Jorah. \"Yes,\" she said, rising clumsily, \"send him in.\" She trusted the knight. He would know what to do if anyone did.\n\nSer Jorah Mormont ducked through the door flap and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. In the fierce heat of the south, he wore loose trousers of mottled sandsilk and open-toed riding sandals that laced up to his knee. His scabbard hung from a twisted horsehair belt. Under a bleached white vest, he was bare-chested, skin reddened by the sun. \"Talk goes from mouth to ear, allover the khalasar,\" he said. \"It is said Khal Drogo fell from his horse.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Help him,\" Dany pleaded. \"For the love you say you bear me, help him now.\"\n\nThe knight knelt beside her. He looked at Drogo long and hard, and then at Dany. \"Send your maids away.\"\n\nWordlessly, her throat tight with fear, Dany made a gesture. Irri herded the other girls from the tent.\n\nWhen they were alone, Ser Jorah drew his dagger. Deftly, with a delicacy surprising in such a big man, he began to scrape away the black leaves and dried blue mud from Drogo's chest. The plaster had caked hard as the mud walls of the Lamb Men, and like those walls it cracked easily. Ser Jorah broke the dry mud with his knife, pried the chunks from the flesh, peeled off the leaves one by one. Afoul, sweet smell rose from the wound, so thick it almost choked her. The leaves were crusted with blood and pus, Drogo's breast black and glistening with corruption.\n\n\"No,\" Dany whispered as tears ran down her cheeks. \"No, please, gods hear me, no.\"\n\nKhal Drogo thrashed, fighting some unseen enemy. Black blood ran slow and thick from his open wound.\n\n\"Your khal is good as dead, Princess.\"\n\n\"No, he can't die, he mustn't, it was only a cut.\" Dany took his large callused hand in her own small ones, and held it tight between them. \"I will not let him die...\"\n\nSer Jorah gave a bitter laugh. \"Khaleesi or queen, that command is beyond your power. Save your tears, child. Weep for him tomorrow, or a year from now. We do not have time for grief. We must go, and quickly, before he dies.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany was lost. \"Go? Where should we go?\"\n\n\"Asshai, I would say. It lies far to the south, at the end of the known world, yet men say it is a great port. We will find a ship to take us back to Pentos. It will be a hard journey, make no mistake. Do you trust your khas? Will they come with us?\"\n\n\"Khal Drogo commanded them to keep me safe,\" Dany replied uncertainly, \"but if he dies...\" She touched the swell of her belly. \"I don't understand. Why should we flee? I am khaleesi. I carry Drogo's heir. He will be khal after Drogo...\"\n\nSer Jorah frowned. \"Princess, hear me. The Dothraki will not follow a suckling babe. Drogo's strength was what they bowed to, and only that. When he is gone, Jhaqo and Pono and the other kos will fight for his place, and this khalasar will devour itself. The winner will want no more rivals. The boy will betaken from your breast the moment he is born. They will give him to the dogs...\"\n\nDany hugged herself. \"But why?\" she cried plaintively. \"Why should they kill a little baby?\"\n\n\"He is Drogo's son, and the crones say he will be the stallion who mounts the world. It was prophesied. Better to kill the child than to risk his fury when he grows to manhood.\"\n\nThe child kicked inside her, as if he had heard. Dany remembered the story Viserys had told her, of what the Usurper's dogs had done to Rhaegar's children. His son had been a babe as well, yet they had ripped him from his mother's breast and dashed his head against a wall. That was the way of men. \"They must not hurt my son!\" she cried. \"I will order my khas to keep him safe, and Drogo's bloodriders will-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ser Jorah held her by the shoulders."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A bloodrider dies with his khal. You know that, child. They will take you to Vaes Dothrak, to the crones, that is the last duty they owe him in life... when it is done, they will join Drogo in the night lands.\"\n\nDany did not want to go back to Vaes Dothrak and live the rest of her life among those terrible old women, yet she knew that the knight spoke the truth. Drogo had been more than her sun-and-stars; he had been the shield that kept her safe. \"I will not leave him,\" she said stubbornly, miserably. She took his hand again. \"I will not.\"\n\nA stirring at the tent flap made Dany turn her head. Mirri Maz Duur entered, bowing low. Days on the march, trailing behind the khalasar, had left her limping and haggard, with blistered and bleeding feet and hollows under her eyes. Behind her came Qotho and Haggo, carrying the godswife's chest between them. When the bloodriders caught sight of Drogo's wound, the chest slipped from Haggo's fingers and crashed to the floor of the tent, and Qotho swore an oath so foul it seared the air.\n\nMirri Maz Duur studied Drogo, her face still and dead. \"The wound has festered.\"\n\n\"This is your work, maegi,\" Qotho said. Haggo laid his fist across Mirri's cheek with a meaty smack that drove her to the ground. Then he kicked her where she lay.\n\n\"Stop it!\" Dany screamed.\n\nQotho pulled Haggo away, saying, \"Kicks are too merciful fora maegi. Take her outside. We will stake her to the earth, to be the mount of every passing man. And when they are done with her, the dogs will use her as well. Weasels will tear out her entrails and carrion crows feast upon her eyes. The flies off the river shall lay their eggs in her womb and drink pus from the ruins of her breasts...\" He dug iron-hard fingers into the soft, wobbly flesh under the godswife's arm and hauled her to her feet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No,\" Dany said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will not have her harmed.\"\n\nQotho's lips skinned back from his crooked brown teeth in a terrible mockery of a smile. \"No? You say me no? Better you should pray that we do not stake you out beside your maegi. You did this, as much as the other.\"\n\nSer Jorah stepped between them, loosening his longsword in its scabbard. \"Rein in your tongue, bloodrider. The princess is still your khaleesi.\"\n\n\"Only while the blood-of-my-blood still lives,\" Qotho told the knight. \"When he dies, she is nothing.\"\n\nDany felt a tightness inside her. \"Before I was khaleesi, I was the blood of the dragon. Ser Jorah, summon my khas.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Qotho. \"We will go. For now... Khaleesi.\" Haggo followed him from the tent, scowling.\n\n\"That one means you no good, Princess,\" Mormont said. \"The Dothraki say a man and his bloodriders share one life, and Qotho sees it ending. A dead man is beyond fear.\"\n\n\"No one has died,\" Dany said. \"Ser Jorah, I may have need of your blade. Best go don your armor.\" She was more frightened than she dared admit, even to herself.\n\nThe knight bowed. \"As you say.\" He strode from the tent.\n\nDany turned back to Mirri Maz Duur. The woman's eyes were wary. \"So you have saved me once more.\"\n\n\"And now you must save him,\" Dany said. \"Please...\"\n\n\"You do not ask a slave,\" Mirri replied sharply, \"you tell her.\" She went to Drogo burning on his mat, and gazed long at his wound. \"Ask or tell, it makes no matter. He is beyond a healer's skills.\" The khal's eyes were closed. She opened one with her fingers. \"He has been dulling the hurt with milk of the poppy.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes,\" Dany admitted.\n\n\"I made him a poultice of firepod and sting-me-not and bound it in a lambskin.\"\n\n\"It burned, he said. He tore it off. The herbwomen made him anew one, wet and soothing.\"\n\n\"It burned, yes. There is great healing magic in fire, even your hairless men know that.\"\n\n\"Make him another poultice,\" Dany begged. \"This time I will make certain he wears it.\"\n\n\"The time for that is past, my lady,\" Mirri said. \"All I can do now is ease the dark road before him, so he might ride painless to the night lands. He will begone by morning.\"\n\nHer words were a knife through Dany's breast. What had she ever done to make the gods so cruel? She had finally found a safe place, had finally tasted love and hope. She was finally going home. And now to lose it all... \"No,\" she pleaded. \"Save him, and I will free you, I swear it. You must know away... some magic, some...\"\n\nMirri Maz Duur sat back on her heels and studied Daenerys through eyes as black as night. \"There is a spell.\" Her voice was quiet, scarcely more than a whisper. \"But it is hard, lady, and dark. Some would say that death is cleaner. I learned the way in Asshai, and paid dear for the lesson. My teacher was a bloodmage from the Shadow Lands.\"\n\nDany went cold allover. \"Then you truly area maegi...\"\n\n\"Am I?\" Mirri Maz Duur smiled. \"Only a maegi can save your rider now, Silver Lady.\"\n\n\"Is there no other way?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No other.\"\n\nKhal Drogo gave a shuddering gasp.\n\n\"Do it,\" Dany blurted. She must not be afraid; she was the blood of the dragon. \"Save him.\"\n\n\"There is a price,\" the godswife warned her.\n\n\"You'll have gold, horses, whatever you like.\"\n\n\"It is not a matter of gold or horses. This is bloodmagic, lady. Only death may pay for life.\"\n\n\"Death?\" Dany wrapped her arms around herself protectively, rocked back and forth on her heels. \"My death?\" She told herself she would die for him, if she must. She was the blood of the dragon, she would not be afraid. Her brother Rhaegar had died for the woman he loved.\n\n\"No,\" Mirri Maz Duur promised. \"Not your death, Khaleesi.\"\n\nDany trembled with relief. \"Do it.\"\n\nThe maegi nodded solemnly. \"As you speak, so it shall be done. Call your servants.\"\n\nKhal Drogo writhed feebly as Rakharo and Quaro lowered him into the bath. \"No,\" he muttered, \"no. Must ride.\" Once in the water, all the strength seemed to leak out of him.\n\n\"Bring his horse,\" Mirri Maz Duur commanded, and so it was done. Jhogo led the great red stallion into the tent. When the animal caught the scent of death, he screamed and reared, rolling his eyes. It took three men to subdue him.\n\n\"What do you mean to do?\" Dany asked her.\n\n\"We need the blood,\" Mirri answered. \"That is the way.\"\n\nJhogo edged back, his hand on his arakh. He was a youth of sixteen years, whip-thin, fearless, quick to laugh, with the faint shadow of his first mustachio on his upper lip. He fell to his knees before her. \"Khaleesi,\" he pleaded, \"you must not do this thing. Let me kill this maegi.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Kill her and you kill your khal,\" Dany said.\n\n\"This is bloodmagic,\" he said. \"It is forbidden.\"\n\n\"I am khaleesi, and I say it is not forbidden. In Vaes Dothrak, Khal Drogo slew a stallion and I ate his heart, to give our son strength and courage. This is the same. The same.\"\n\nThe stallion kicked and reared as Rakharo, Quaro, and Aggo pulled him close to the tub where the khal floated like one already dead, pus and blood seeping from his wound to stain the bathwaters. Mirri Maz Duur chanted words in a tongue that Dany did not know, and a knife appeared in her hand. Dany never saw where it came from. It looked old; hammered red bronze, leaf-shaped, its blade covered with ancient glyphs. The maegi drew it across the stallion's throat, under the noble head, and the horse screamed and shuddered as the blood poured out of him in a red rush. He would have collapsed, but the men of her khas held him up. \"Strength of the mount, go into the rider,\" Mirri sang as horse blood swirled into the waters of Drogo's bath. \"Strength of the beast, go into the man.\"\n\nJhogo looked terrified as he struggled with the stallion's weight, afraid to touch the dead flesh, yet afraid to let go as well. Only a horse, Dany thought. If she could buy Drogo's life with the death of a horse, she would pay a thousand times over.\n\nWhen they let the stallion fall, the bath was a dark red, and nothing showed of Drogo but his face. Mirri Maz Duur had no use for the carcass. \"Burn it,\" Dany told them. It was what they did, she knew. When a man died, his mount was killed and placed beneath him on the funeral pyre, to carry him to the night lands. The men of her khas dragged the carcass from the tent. The blood had gone everywhere. Even the sandsilk walls were spotted with red, and the rugs underfoot were black and wet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Braziers were lit."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mirri Maz Duur tossed a red powder onto the coals. It gave the smoke a spicy scent, a pleasant enough smell, yet Eroeh fled sobbing, and Dany was filled with fear. But she had gone too far to turn back now. She sent her handmaids away. \"Go with them, Silver Lady,\" Mirri Maz Duur told her.\n\n\"I will stay,\" Dany said. \"The man took me under the stars and gave life to the child inside me. I will not leave him.\"\n\n\"You must. Once I begin to sing, no one must enter this tent. My song will wake powers old and dark. The dead will dance here this night. No living man must look on them.\"\n\nDany bowed her head, helpless. \"No one will enter.\" She bent over the tub, over Drogo in his bath of blood, and kissed him lightly on the brow. \"Bring him back tome,\" she whispered to Mirri Maz Duur before she fled.\n\nOutside, the sun was low on the horizon, the sky a bruised red. The khalasar had made camp. Tents and sleeping mats were scattered as far as the eye could see. A hot wind blew. Jhogo and Aggo were digging a firepit to burn the dead stallion. A crowd had gathered to stare at Dany with hard black eyes, their faces like masks of beaten copper. She saw Ser Jorah Mormont, wearing mail and leather now, sweat beading on his broad, balding forehead. He pushed his way through the Dothraki to Dany's side. When he saw the scarlet footprints her boots had left on the ground, the color seemed to drain from his face. \"What have you done, you little fool?\" he asked hoarsely."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I had to save him.\"\n\n\"We could have fled,\" he said. \"I would have seen you safe to Asshai, Princess. There was no need...\"\n\n\"Am I truly your princess?\" she asked him.\n\n\"You know you are, gods save us both.\"\n\n\"Then help me now.\"\n\nSer Jorah grimaced. \"Would that I knew how.\"\n\nMirri Maz Duur's voice rose to a high, ululating wail that sent a shiver down Dany's back. Some of the Dothraki began to mutter and back away. The tent was aglow with the light of braziers within. Through the blood-spattered sandsilk, she glimpsed shadows moving.\n\nMirri Maz Duur was dancing, and not alone.\n\nDany saw naked fear on the faces of the Dothraki. \"This must not be,\" Qotho thundered.\n\nShe had not seen the bloodrider return. Haggo and Cohollo were with him. They had brought the hairless men, the eunuchs who healed with knife and needle and fire.\n\n\"This will be,\" Dany replied.\n\n\"Maegi,\" Haggo growled. And old Cohollo-Cohollo who had bound his life to Drogo's on the day of his birth, Cohollo who had always been kind to her-Cohollo spat full in her face.\n\n\"You will die, maegi,\" Qotho promised, \"but the other must die first.\" He drew his arakh and made for the tent.\n\n\"No,\" she shouted, \"you mustn't.\" She caught him by the shoulder, but Qotho shoved her aside. Dany fell to her knees, crossing her arms over her belly to protect the child within. \"Stop him,\" she commanded her khas, \"kill him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rakharo and Quaro stood beside the tent flap. Quaro took a step forward, reaching for the handle of his whip, but Qotho spun graceful as a dancer, the curved arakh rising. It caught Quaro low under the arm, the bright sharp steel biting up through leather and skin, through muscle and rib bone. Blood fountained as the young rider reeled backward, gasping.\n\nQotho wrenched the blade free. \"Horselord,\" Ser Jorah Mormont called. \"Try me.\" His longsword slid from its scabbard.\n\nQotho whirled, cursing. The arakh moved so fast that Quaro's blood flew from it in a fine spray, like rain in a hot wind. The longsword caught it afoot from Ser Jorah's face, and held it quivering for an instant as Qotho howled in fury. The knight was clad in chainmail, with gauntlets and greaves of lobstered steel and a heavy gorget around his throat, but he had not thought to don his helm.\n\nQotho danced backward, arakh whirling around his head in a shining blur, flickering out like lightning as the knight came on in a rush. Ser Jorah parried as best he could, but the slashes came so fast that it seemed to Dany that Qotho had four arakhs and as many arms. She heard the crunch of sword on mail, saw sparks fly as the long curved blade glanced off a gauntlet. Suddenly it was Mormont stumbling backward, and Qotho leaping to the attack. The left side of the knight's face ran red with blood, and a cut to the hip opened a gash in his mail and left him limping. Qotho screamed taunts at him, calling him a craven, a milkman, a eunuch in an iron suit. \"You die now!\" he promised, arakh shivering through the red twilight. Inside Dany's womb, her son kicked wildly. The curved blade slipped past the straight one and bit deep into the knight's hip where the mail gaped open."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Mormont grunted, stumbled."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany felt a sharp pain in her belly, a wetness on her thighs. Qotho shrieked triumph, but his arakh had found bone, and for half a heartbeat it caught.\n\nIt was enough. Ser Jorah brought his longsword down with all the strength left him, through flesh and muscle and bone, and Qotho's forearm dangled loose, flopping on a thin cord of skin and sinew. The knight's next cut was at the Dothraki's ear, so savage that Qotho's face seemed almost to explode.\n\nThe Dothraki were shouting, Mirri Maz Duur wailing inside the tent like nothing human, Quaro pleading for water as he died. Dany cried out for help, but no one heard. Rakharo was fighting Haggo, arakh dancing with arakh until Jhogo's whip cracked, loud as thunder, the lash coiling around Haggo's throat. A yank, and the bloodrider stumbled backward, losing his feet and his sword. Rakharo sprang forward, howling, swinging his arakh down with both hands through the top of Haggo's head. The point caught between his eyes, red and quivering. Someone threw a stone, and when Dany looked, her shoulder was torn and bloody. \"No,\" she wept, \"no, please, stop it, it's too high, the price is too high.\" More stones came flying. She tried to crawl toward the tent, but Cohollo caught her. Fingers in her hair, he pulled her head back and she felt the cold touch of his knife at her throat. \"My baby,\" she screamed, and perhaps the gods heard, for as quick as that, Cohollo was dead. Aggo's arrow took him under the arm, to pierce his lungs and heart."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When at last Daenerys found the strength to raise her head, she saw the crowd dispersing, the Dothraki stealing silently back to their tents and sleeping mats. Some were saddling horses and riding off. The sun had set. Fires burned throughout the khalasar, great orange blazes that crackled with fury and spit embers at the sky. She tried to rise, and agony seized her and squeezed her like a giant's fist. The breath went out of her; it was all she could do to gasp. The sound of Mirri Maz Duur's voice was like a funeral dirge. Inside the tent, the shadows whirled.\n\nAn arm went under her waist, and then Ser Jorah was lifting her off her feet. His face was sticky with blood, and Dany saw that half his ear was gone. She convulsed in his arms as the pain took her again, and heard the knight shouting for her handmaids to help him. Are they all so afraid? She knew the answer. Another pain grasped her, and Dany bit back a scream. It felt as if her son had a knife in each hand, as if he were hacking at her to cut his way out. \"Doreah, curse you,\" Ser Jorah roared. \"Come here. Fetch the birthing women.\"\n\n\"They will not come. They say she is accursed.\"\n\n\"They'll come or I'll have their heads.\"\n\nDoreah wept. \"They are gone, my lord.\"\n\n\"The maegi,\" someone else said. Was that Aggo? \"Take her to the maegi.\"\n\nNo, Dany wanted to say, no, not that, you mustn't, but when she opened her mouth, along wail of pain escaped, and the sweat broke over her skin. What was wrong with them, couldn't they see? Inside the tent the shapes were dancing, circling the brazier and the bloody bath, dark against the sandsilk, and some did not look human. She glimpsed the shadow of a great wolf, and another like a man wreathed inflames."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Lamb Woman knows the secrets of the birthing bed,\" Irri said. \"She said so, I heard her.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Doreah agreed, \"I heard her too.\"\n\nNo, she shouted, or perhaps she only thought it, for no whisper of sound escaped her lips. She was being carried. Her eyes opened to gaze up at a flat dead sky, black and bleak and starless. Please, no. The sound of Mirri Maz Duur's voice grew louder, until it filled the world. The shapes! she screamed. The dancers!\n\nSer Jorah carried her inside the tent."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The scent of hot bread drifting from the shops along the Street of Flour was sweeter than any perfume Arya had ever smelled. She took a deep breath and stepped closer to the pigeon. It was a plump one, speckled brown, busily pecking at a crust that had fallen between two cobblestones, but when Arya's shadow touched it, it took to the air.\n\nHer stick sword whistled out and caught it two feet off the ground, and it went down in a flurry of brown feathers. She was on it in the blink of an eye, grabbing awing as the pigeon flapped and fluttered. It pecked at her hand. She grabbed its neck and twisted until she felt the bone snap.\n\nCompared with catching cats, pigeons were easy.\n\nA passing septon was looking at her askance. \"Here's the best place to find pigeon,\" Arya told him as she brushed herself off and picked up her fallen stick sword. \"They come for the crumbs.\" He hurried away.\n\nShe tied the pigeon to her belt and started down the street. A man was pushing a load of tarts by on a two-wheeled cart; the smells sang of blueberries and lemons and apricots. Her stomach made a hollow rumbly noise. \"Could I have one?\" she heard herself say. \"A lemon, or... or any kind.\"\n\nThe pushcart man looked her up and down. Plainly he did not like what he saw. \"Three coppers.\"\n\nArya tapped her wooden sword against the side of her boot. \"I'll trade you a fat pigeon,\" she said.\n\n\"The Others take your pigeon,\" the pushcart man said.\n\nThe tarts were still warm from the oven. The smells were making her mouth water, but she did not have three coppers... or one. She gave the pushcart man a look, remembering what Syrio had told her about seeing. He was short, with a little round belly, and when he moved he seemed to favor his left leg a little. She was just thinking that if she snatched a tart and ran he would never be able to catch her when he said, \"You be keepin' your filthy hands off. The gold cloaks know how to deal with thieving little gutter rats, that they do.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Arya glanced warily behind her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Two of the City Watch were standing at the mouth of an alley. Their cloaks hung almost to the ground, the heavy wool dyed a rich gold; their mail and boots and gloves were black. One wore a longsword at his hip, the other an iron cudgel. With a last wistful glance at the tarts, Arya edged back from the cart and hurried off. The gold cloaks had not been paying her any special attention, but the sight of them tied her stomach in knots. Arya had been staying as far from the castle as she could get, yet even from a distance she could seethe heads rotting atop the high red walls. Flocks of crows squabbled noisily over each head, thick as flies. The talk in Flea Bottom was that the gold cloaks had thrown in with the Lannisters, their commander raised to a lord, with lands on the Trident and a seat on the king's council.\n\nShe had also heard other things, scary things, things that made no sense to her. Some said her father had murdered King Robert and been slain in turn by Lord Renly. Others insisted that Renly had killed the king in a drunken quarrel between brothers. Why else should he have fled in the night like a common thief? One story said the king had been killed by a boar while hunting, another that he'd died eating a boar, stuffing himself so full that he'd ruptured at the table. No, the king had died at table, others said, but only because Varys the Spider poisoned him. No, it had been the queen who poisoned him. No, he had died of a pox. No, he had choked on a fish bone.\n\nOne thing all the stories agreed on: King Robert was dead. The bells in the seven towers of the Great Sept of Baelor had tolled fora day and a night, the thunder of their grief rolling across the city in a bronze tide. They only rang the bells like that for the death of a king, a tanner's boy told Arya."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "All she wanted was to go home, but leaving King's Landing was not so easy as she had hoped."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Talk of war was on every lip, and gold cloaks were as thick on the city walls as fleas on... well, her, for one. She had been sleeping in Flea Bottom, on rooftops and in stables, wherever she could find a place to lie down, and it hadn't taken her long to learn that the district was well named.\n\nEveryday since her escape from the Red Keep, Arya had visited each of the seven city gates in turn. The Dragon Gate, the Lion Gate, and the Old Gate were closed and barred. The Mud Gate and the Gate of the Gods were open, but only to those who wanted to enter the city; the guards let no one out. Those who were allowed to leave left by the King's Gate or the Iron Gate, but Lannister men-at-arms in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms manned the guard posts there. Spying down from the roof of an inn by the King's Gate, Arya saw them searching wagons and carriages, forcing riders to open their saddlebags, and questioning everyone who tried to pass on foot.\n\nSometimes she thought about swimming the river, but the Blackwater Rush was wide and deep, and everyone agreed that its currents were wicked and treacherous. She had no coin to pay a ferryman or take passage on a ship.\n\nHer lord father had taught her never to steal, but it was growing harder to remember why. If she did not get out soon, she would have to take her chances with the gold cloaks. She hadn't gone hungry much since she learned to knockdown birds with her stick sword, but she feared so much pigeon was making her sick. A couple she'd eaten raw, before she found Flea Bottom.\n\nIn the Bottom there were pot-shops along the alleys where huge tubs of stew had been simmering for years, and you could trade half your bird fora heel of yesterday's bread and a'bowl o\" brown,\" and they'd even stick the other half in the fire and crisp it up for you, so long as you plucked the feathers yourself. Arya would have given anything fora cup of milk and a lemon cake, but the brown wasn't so bad. It usually had barley in it, and chunks of carrot and onion and turnip, and sometimes even apple, with a film of grease swimming on top. Mostly she tried not to think about the meat. Once she had gotten apiece offish."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The only thing was, the pot-shops were never empty, and even as she bolted down her food, Arya could feel them watching."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some of them stared at her boots or her cloak, and she knew what they were thinking. With others, she could almost feel their eyes crawling under her leathers; she didn't know what they were thinking, and that scared her even more. A couple times, she was followed out into the alleys and chased, but so far no one had been able to catch her.\n\nThe silver bracelet she'd hoped to sell had been stolen her first night out of the castle, along with her bundle of good clothes, snatched while she slept in a burnt-outhouse off Pig Alley. All they left her was the cloak she had been huddled in, the leathers on her back, her wooden practice sword... and Needle. She'd been lying on top of Needle, or else it would have been gone too; it was worth more than all the rest together. Since then Arya had taken to walking around with her cloak draped over her right arm, to conceal the blade at her hip. The wooden sword she carried in her left hand, out where everybody could see it, to scare off robbers, but there were men in the pot-shops who wouldn't have been scared off if she'd had a battle-axe. It was enough to make her lose her taste for pigeon and stale bread. Often as not, she went to bed hungry rather than risk the stares.\n\nOnce she was outside the city, she would find berries to pick, or orchards she might raid for apples and cherries. Arya remembered seeing some from the kingsroad on the journey south. And she could dig for roots in the forest, even rundown some rabbits. In the city, the only things to rundown were rats and cats and scrawny dogs. The pot-shops would give you a fistful of coppers fora litter of pups, she'd heard, but she didn't like to think about that."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 68"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The only thing was, the pot-shops were never empty, and even as she bolted down her food, Arya could feel them watching."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some of them stared at her boots or her cloak, and she knew what they were thinking. With others, she could almost feel their eyes crawling under her leathers; she didn't know what they were thinking, and that scared her even more. A couple times, she was followed out into the alleys and chased, but so far no one had been able to catch her.\n\nThe silver bracelet she'd hoped to sell had been stolen her first night out of the castle, along with her bundle of good clothes, snatched while she slept in a burnt-outhouse off Pig Alley. All they left her was the cloak she had been huddled in, the leathers on her back, her wooden practice sword... and Needle. She'd been lying on top of Needle, or else it would have been gone too; it was worth more than all the rest together. Since then Arya had taken to walking around with her cloak draped over her right arm, to conceal the blade at her hip. The wooden sword she carried in her left hand, out where everybody could see it, to scare off robbers, but there were men in the pot-shops who wouldn't have been scared off if she'd had a battle-axe. It was enough to make her lose her taste for pigeon and stale bread. Often as not, she went to bed hungry rather than risk the stares.\n\nOnce she was outside the city, she would find berries to pick, or orchards she might raid for apples and cherries. Arya remembered seeing some from the kingsroad on the journey south. And she could dig for roots in the forest, even rundown some rabbits. In the city, the only things to rundown were rats and cats and scrawny dogs. The pot-shops would give you a fistful of coppers fora litter of pups, she'd heard, but she didn't like to think about that."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Down below the Street of Flour was amaze of twisting alleys and cross streets. Arya scrambled through the crowds, trying to put distance between her and the gold cloaks. She had learned to keep to the center of the street. Sometimes she had to dodge wagons and horses, but at least you could see them coming. If you walked near the buildings, people grabbed you. In some alleys you couldn't help but brush against the walls; the buildings leaned in so close they almost met.\n\nA whooping gang of small children went running past, chasing a rolling hoop. Arya stared at them with resentment, remembering the times she'd played at hoops with Bran and Jon and their baby brother Rickon. She wondered how big Rickon had grown, and whether Bran was sad. She would have given anything if Jon had been hereto call her'little sister\" and muss her hair. Not that it needed mussing. She'd seen her reflection in puddles, and she didn't think hair got anymore mussed than hers.\n\nShe had tried talking to the children she saw in the street, hoping to make a friend who would give her a place to sleep, but she must have talked wrong or something. The little ones only looked at her with quick, wary eyes and ran away if she came too close. Their big brothers and sisters asked questions Arya couldn't answer, called her names, and tried to steal from her. Only yesterday, a scrawny barefoot girl twice her age had knocked her down and tried to pull the boots off her feet, but Arya gave her a crack on her ear with her stick sword that sent her off sobbing and bleeding.\n\nA gull wheeled overhead as she made her way down the hill toward Flea Bottom. Arya glanced at it thoughtfully, but it was well beyond the reach of her stick. It made her think of the sea. Maybe that was the way out. Old Nan used to tell stories of boys who stowed away on trading galleys and sailed off into all kinds of adventures. Maybe Arya could do that too. She decided to visit the riverfront. It was on the way to the Mud Gate anyway, and she hadn't checked that one today."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wharfs were oddly quiet when Arya got there. She spied another pair of gold cloaks, walking side by side through the fish market, but they never so much as looked at her. Half the stalls were empty, and it seemed to her that there were fewer ships at dock than she remembered. Out on the Blackwater, three of the king's war galleys moved information, gold-painted hulls splitting the water as their oars rose and fell. Arya watched them fora bit, then began to make her way along the river.\n\nWhen she saw the guardsmen on the third pier, in grey woolen cloaks trimmed with white satin, her heart almost stopped in her chest. The sight of Winterfell's colors brought tears to her eyes. Behind them, a sleek three-banked trading galley rocked at her moorings. Arya could not read the name painted on the hull; the words were strange, Myrish, Braavosi, perhaps even High Valyrian. She grabbed a passing longshoreman by the sleeve. \"Please,\" she said, \"what ship is this?\"\n\n\"She's the Wind Witch, out of Myr,\" the man said.\n\n\"She's still here,\" Arya blurted. The longshoreman gave her a queer look, shrugged, and walked away. Arya ran toward the pier. The Wind Witch was the ship Father had hired to take her home... still waiting! She'd imagined it had sailed ages ago.\n\nTwo of the guardsmen were dicing together while the third walked rounds, his hand on the pommel of his sword. Ashamed to let them see her crying like a baby, she stopped to rub at her eyes. Her eyes her eyes her eyes, why did...\n\nLook with your eyes, she heard Syrio whisper."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya looked. She knew all of her father's men. The three in the grey cloaks were strangers. \"You,\" the one walking rounds called out. \"What do you want here, boy?\" The other two looked up from their dice.\n\nIt was all Arya could do not to bolt and run, but she knew that if she did, they would be after her at once. She made herself walk closer. They were looking fora girl, but he thought she was a boy. She'd be a boy, then. \"Want to buy a pigeon?\" She showed him the dead bird.\n\n\"Get out of here,\" the guardsman said.\n\nArya did as he told her. She did not have to pretend to be frightened. Behind her, the men went back to their dice.\n\nShe could not have said how she got back to Flea Bottom, but she was breathing hard by the time she reached the narrow crooked unpaved streets between the hills. The Bottom had a stench to it, a stink of pigsties and stables and tanner's sheds, mixed in with the sour smell of winesinks and cheap whorehouses. Arya wound her way through the maze dully. It was not until she caught a whiff of bubbling brown coming through a pot-shop door that she realized her pigeon was gone. It must have slipped from her belt as she ran, or someone had stolen it and she'd never noticed. Fora moment she wanted to cry again. She'd have to walk all the way back to the Street of Flour to find another one that plump.\n\nFar across the city, bells began to ring.\n\nArya glanced up, listening, wondering what the ringing meant this time.\n\n\"What's this now?\" a fat man called from the pot-shop."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The bells again, gods ha'mercy,\" wailed an old woman.\n\nA red-haired whore in a wisp of painted silk pushed open a second-story window. \"Is it the boy king that's died now?\" she shouted down, leaning out over the street. \"Ah, that's a boy for you, they never last long.\" As she laughed, a naked man slid his arms around her from behind, biting her neck and rubbing the heavy white breasts that hung loose beneath her shift.\n\n\"Stupid slut,\" the fat man shouted up. \"The king's not dead, that's only summoning bells. One tower tolling. When the king dies, they ring every bell in the city.\"\n\n\"Here, quit your biting, or I'll ring your bells,\" the woman in the window said to the man behind her, pushing him off with an elbow. \"So who is it died, if not the king?\"\n\n\"It's a summoning,\" the fat man repeated.\n\nTwo boys close to Arya's age scampered past, splashing through a puddle. The old woman cursed them, but they kept right ongoing. Other people were moving too, heading up the hill to see what the noise was about. Arya ran after the slower boy. \"Where you going?\" she shouted when she was right behind him. \"What's happening?\"\n\nHe glanced back without slowing. \"The gold cloaks is carryin' him to the sept.\"\n\n\"Who?\" she yelled, running hard.\n\n\"The Hand! They'll betaking his head off, Buu says.\"\n\nA passing wagon had left a deep rut in the street. The boy leapt over, but Arya never saw it. She tripped and fell, face first, scraping her knee open on a stone and smashing her fingers when her hands hit the hard-packed earth. Needle tangled between her legs. She sobbed as she struggled to her knees. The thumb of her left hand was covered with blood. When she sucked on it, she saw that half the thumbnail was gone, ripped off in her fall. Her hands throbbed, and her knee was all bloody too."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Make way!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "someone shouted from the cross street. \"Make way for my lords of Redwyne!\" It was all Arya could do to get out of the road before they ran her down, four guardsmen on huge horses, pounding past at a gallop. They wore checked cloaks, blue-and-burgundy. Behind them, two young lordlings rode side by side on a pair of chestnut mares alike as peas in a pod. Arya had seen them in the bailey a hundred times; the Redwyne twins, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, homely youths with orange hair and square, freckled faces. Sansa and Jeyne Poole used to call them Ser Horror and Ser Slobber, and giggle whenever they caught sight of them. They did not look funny now.\n\nEveryone was moving in the same direction, all in a hurry to see what the ringing was all about. The bells seemed louder now, clanging, calling. Arya joined the stream of people. Her thumb hurt so bad where the nail had broken that it was all she could do not to cry. She bit her lip as she limped along, listening to the excited voices around her.\n\n\"-the King's Hand, Lord Stark. They're carrying him up to Baelor's Sept.\"\n\n\"I heard he was dead.\"\n\n\"Soon enough, soon enough. Here, I got me a silver stag says they lop his head off.\"\n\n\"Past time, the traitor.\" The man spat.\n\nArya struggled to find a voice. \"He never-\" she started, but she was only a child and they talked right over her.\n\n\"Fool! They ain't neither going to lop him. Since when do they knick traitors on the steps of the Great Sept?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, they don't mean to anoint him no knight. I heard it was Stark killed old King Robert. Slit his throat in the woods, and when they found him, he stood there cool as you please and said it was some old boar did for His Grace.\"\n\n\"Ah, that's not true, it was his own brother did him, that Renly, him with his gold antlers.\"\n\n\"You shut your lying mouth, woman. You don't know what you're saying, his lordship's a fine true man.\"\n\nBy the time they reached the Street of the Sisters, they were packed in shoulder to shoulder. Arya let the human current carry her along, up to the top of Visenya's Hill. The white marble plaza was a solid mass of people, all yammering excitedly at each other and straining to get closer to the Great Sept of Baelor. The bells were very loud here.\n\nArya squirmed through the press, ducking between the legs of horses and clutching tight to her sword stick. From the middle of the crowd, all she could see were arms and legs and stomachs, and the seven slender towers of the sept looming overhead. She spotted a wood wagon and thought to climb upon the back where she might be able to see, but others had the same idea. The teamster cursed at them and drove them off with a crack of his whip.\n\nArya grew frantic. Forcing her way to the front of the crowd, she was shoved up against the stone of a plinth. She looked up at Baelor the Blessed, the septon king. Sliding her stick sword through her belt, Arya began to climb. Her broken thumbnail left smears of blood on the painted marble, but she made it up, and wedged herself in between the king's feet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was when she saw her father.\n\nLord Eddard stood on the High Septon's pulpit outside the doors of the sept, supported between two of the gold cloaks. He was dressed in a rich grey velvet doublet with a white wolf sewn on the front in beads, and a grey wool cloak trimmed with fur, but he was thinner than Arya had ever seen him, his long face drawn with pain. He was not standing so much as being held up; the cast over his broken leg was grey and rotten.\n\nThe High Septon himself stood behind him, a squat man, grey with age and ponderously fat, wearing long white robes and an immense crown of spun gold and crystal that wreathed his head with rainbows whenever he moved.\n\nClustered around the doors of the sept, in front of the raised marble pulpit, were a knot of knights and high lords. Joffrey was prominent among them, his raiment all crimson, silk and satin patterned with prancing stags and roaring lions, a gold crown on his head. His queen mother stood beside him in a black mourning gown slashed with crimson, a veil of black diamonds in her hair. Arya recognized the Hound, wearing a snowy white cloak over his dark grey armor, with four of the Kingsguard around him. She saw Varys the eunuch gliding among the lords in soft slippers and a patterned damask robe, and she thought the short man with the silvery cape and pointed beard might be the one who had once fought a duel for Mother.\n\nAnd therein their midst was Sansa, dressed in sky-blue silk, with her long auburn hair washed and curled and silver bracelets on her wrists. Arya scowled, wondering what her sister was doing here, why she looked so happy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Along line of gold-cloaked spearmen held back the crowd, commanded by a stout man in elaborate armor, all black lacquer and gold filigree. His cloak had the metallic shimmer of true cloth-of-gold.\n\nWhen the bell ceased to toll, a quiet slowly settled across the great plaza, and her father lifted his head and began to speak, his voice so thin and weak she could scarcely make him out. People behind her began to shout out, \"What?\" and'Louder!\" The man in the black-and-gold armor stepped up behind Father and prodded him sharply. You leave him alone! Arya wanted to shout, but she knew no one would listen. She chewed her lip.\n\nHer father raised his voice and began again. \"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King,\" he said more loudly, his voice carrying across the plaza, \"and I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men.\"\n\n\"NO,\" Arya whimpered. Below her, the crowd began to scream and shout. Taunts and obscenities filled the air. Sansa had hidden her face in her hands.\n\nHer father raised his voice still higher, straining to be heard. \"I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert,\" he shouted. \"I swore to defend and protect his children, yet before his blood was cold, I plotted to depose and murder his son and seize the throne for myself. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Beloved and the Seven bear witness to the truth of what I say: Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A stone came sailing out of the crowd. Arya cried out as she saw her father hit. The gold cloaks kept him from falling. Blood ran down his face from a deep gash across his forehead. More stones followed. One struck the guard to Father's left. Another went clanging off the breastplate of the knight in the black-and-gold armor. Two of the Kingsguard stepped in front of Joffrey and the queen, protecting them with their shields.\n\nHer hand slid beneath her cloak and found Needle in its sheath. She tightened her fingers around the grip, squeezing as hard as she had ever squeezed anything. Please, gods, keep him safe, she prayed. Don't let them hurt my father.\n\nThe High Septon knelt before Joffrey and his mother. \"As we sin, so do we suffer,\" he intoned, in a deep swelling voice much louder than Father's. \"This man has confessed his crimes in the sight of gods and men, herein this holy place.\" Rainbows danced around his head as he lifted his hands in entreaty. \"The gods are just, yet Blessed Baelor taught us that they are also merciful. What shall be done with this traitor, Your Grace?\"\n\nA thousand voices were screaming, but Arya never heard them. Prince Joffrey... no, King Joffrey... stepped out from behind the shields of his Kingsguard. \"My mother bids me let Lord Eddard take the black, and Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father.\" He looked straight at Sansa then, and smiled, and fora moment Arya thought that the gods had heard her prayer, until Joffrey turned back to the crowd and said, \"But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The crowd roared, and Arya felt the statue of Baelor rock as they surged against it. The High Septon clutched at the king's cape, and Varys came rushing over waving his arms, and even the queen was saying something to him, but Joffrey shook his head. Lords and knights moved aside as he stepped through, tall and fleshless, a skeleton in iron mail, the King's Justice. Dimly, as if from far off, Arya heard her sister scream. Sansa had fallen to her knees, sobbing hysterically. Ser Ilyn Payne climbed the steps of the pulpit.\n\nArya wriggled between Baelor's feet and threw herself into the crowd, drawing Needle. She landed on a man in a butcher's apron, knocking him to the ground. Immediately someone slammed into her back and she almost went down herself. Bodies closed in around her, stumbling and pushing, trampling on the poor butcher. Arya slashed at them with Needle.\n\nHigh atop the pulpit, Ser Ilyn Payne gestured and the knight in black-and-gold gave a command. The gold cloaks flung Lord Eddard to the marble, with his head and chest out over the edge.\n\n\"Here, you!\" an angry voice shouted at Arya, but she bowled past, shoving people aside, squirming between them, slamming into anyone in her way. A hand fumbled at her leg and she hacked at it, kicked at shins. A woman stumbled and Arya ran up her back, cutting to both sides, but it was no good, no good, there were too many people, no sooner did she make a hole than it closed again. Someone buffeted her aside. She could still hear Sansa screaming."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ser Ilyn drew a two-handed greatsword from the scabbard on his back."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ashe lifted the blade above his head, sunlight seemed to ripple and dance down the dark metal, glinting off an edge sharper than any razor. Ice, she thought, he has Ice! Her tears streamed down her face, blinding her.\n\nAnd then a hand shot out of the press and closed round her arm like a wolf trap, so hard that Needle went flying from her hand. Arya was wrenched off her feet. She would have fallen if he hadn't held her up, as easy as if she were a doll. A face pressed close to hers, long black hair and tangled beard and rotten teeth. \"Don't look!\" a thick voice snarled at her.\n\n\"I... I... I...\" Arya sobbed.\n\nThe old man shook her so hard her teeth rattled. \"Shut your mouth and close your eyes, boy.\" Dimly, as if from faraway, she heard a... a noise... a soft sighing sound, as if a million people had let out their breath at once. The old man's fingers dug into her arm, stiff as iron. \"Look at me. Yes, that's the way of it, at me.\" Sour wine perfumed his breath. \"Remember, boy?\"\n\nIt was the smell that did it. Arya saw the matted greasy hair, the patched, dusty black cloak that covered his twisted shoulders, the hard black eyes squinting at her. And she remembered the black brother who had come to visit her father.\n\n\"Know me now, do you? There's a bright boy.\" He spat. \"They're done here. You'll becoming with me, and you'll be keeping your mouth shut.\" When she started to reply, he shook her again, even harder. \"Shut, I said.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The plaza was beginning to empty. The press dissolved around them as people drifted back to their lives. But Arya's life was gone. Numb, she trailed along beside... Yoren, yes, his name is Yoren. She did not recall him finding Needle, until he handed the sword back to her. \"Hope you can use that, boy.\"\n\n\"I'm not-\" she started.\n\nHe shoved her into a doorway, thrust dirty fingers through her hair, and gave it a twist, yanking her head back. \"-not a smart boy, that what you mean to say?\"\n\nHe had a knife in his other hand.\n\nAs the blade flashed toward her face, Arya threw herself backward, kicking wildly, wrenching her head from side to side, but he had her by the hair, so strong, she could feel her scalp tearing, and on her lips the salt taste of tears."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The oldest were men grown, seventeen and eighteen years from the day of their naming. One was past twenty. Most were younger, sixteen or less.\n\nBran watched them from the balcony of Maester Luwin's turret, listening to them grunt and strain and curse as they swung their staves and wooden swords. The yard was alive to the clack of wood on wood, punctuated all too often by thwacks and yowls of pain when a blow struck leather or flesh. Ser Rodrik strode among the boys, face reddening beneath his white whiskers, muttering at them one and all. Bran had never seen the old knight look so fierce. \"No,\" he kept saying. \"No. No. No.\"\n\n\"They don't fight very well,\" Bran said dubiously. He scratched Summer idly behind the ears as the direwolf tore at a haunch of meat. Bones crunched between his teeth.\n\n\"Fora certainty,\" Maester Luwin agreed with a deep sigh. The maester was peering through his big Myrish lens tube, measuring shadows and noting the position of the comet that hung low in the morning sky. \"Yet given time... Ser Rodrik has the truth of it, we need men to walk the walls. Your lord father took the cream of his guard to King's Landing, and your brother took the rest, along with all the likely lads for leagues around. Many will not comeback to us, and we must needs find the men to take their places.\"\n\nBran stared resentfully at the sweating boys below. \"If I still had my legs, I could beat them all.\" He remembered the last time he'd held a sword in his hand, when the king had come to Winterfell. It was only a wooden sword, yet he'd knocked Prince Tommen down half a hundred times. \"Ser Rodrik should teach me to use a poleaxe. If I had a poleaxe with a big long haft, Hodor could be my legs. We could be a knight together.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I think that... unlikely,\" Maester Luwin said. \"Bran, when a man fights, his arms and legs and thoughts must be as one.\"\n\nBelow in the yard, Ser Rodrik was yelling. \"You fight like a goose. He pecks you and you peck him harder. Parry! Block the blow. Goose fighting will not suffice. If those were real swords, the first peck would take your arm off!\" One of the other boys laughed, and the old knight rounded on him. \"You laugh. You. Now that is gall. You fight like a hedgehog...\"\n\n\"There was a knight once who couldn't see,\" Bran said stubbornly, as Ser Rodrik went on below. \"Old Nan told me about him. He had along staff with blades at both ends and he could spin it in his hands and chop two men at once.\"\n\n\"Symeon Star-Eyes,\" Luwin said as he marked numbers in a book. \"When he lost his eyes, he put star sapphires in the empty sockets, or so the singers claim. Bran, that is only a story, like the tales of Florian the Fool. A fable from the Age of Heroes.\" The maester tsked. \"You must put these dreams aside, they will only break your heart.\"\n\nThe mention of dreams reminded him. \"I dreamed about the crow again last night. The one with three eyes. He flew into my bedchamber and told me to come with him, so I did. We went down to the crypts. Father was there, and we talked. He was sad.\"\n\n\"And why was that?\" Luwin peered through his tube.\n\n\"It was something to do about Jon, I think.\" The dream had been deeply disturbing, more so than any of the other crow dreams. \"Hodor won't go down into the crypts.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The maester had only been half listening, Bran could tell."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He lifted his eye from the tube, blinking. \"Hodor won't...?\"\n\n\"Go down into the crypts. When I woke, I told him to take me down, to see if Father was truly there. At first he didn't know what I was saying, but I got him to the steps by telling him to go here and go there, only then he wouldn't go down. He just stood on the top step and said \"Hodor,\" like he was scared of the dark, but I had a torch. It made me so mad I almost gave him a swat in the head, like Old Nan is always doing.\" He saw the way the maester was frowning and hurriedly added, \"I didn't, though.\"\n\n\"Good. Hodor is a man, not a mule to be beaten.\"\n\n\"In the dream I flew down with the crow, but I can't do that when I'm awake,\" Bran explained.\n\n\"Why would you want to go down to the crypts?\"\n\n\"I told you. To look for Father.\"\n\nThe maester tugged at the chain around his neck, as he often did when he was uncomfortable. \"Bran, sweet child, one day Lord Eddard will sit below in stone, beside his father and his father's father and all the Starks back to the old Kings in the North... but that will not be for many years, gods be good. Your father is a prisoner of the queen in King's Landing. You will not find him in the crypts.\"\n\n\"He was there last night. I talked to him.\"\n\n\"Stubborn boy,\" the maester sighed, setting his book aside. \"Would you like to go see?\"\n\n\"I can't. Hodor won't go, and the steps are too narrow and twisty for Dancer.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I believe I can solve that difficulty.\"\n\nIn place of Hodor, the wildling woman Osha was summoned. She was tall and tough and uncomplaining, willing to go wherever she was commanded. \"I lived my life beyond the Wall, a hole in the ground won't fret me none, m'lords,\" she said.\n\n\"Summer, come,\" Bran called as she lifted him in wiry-strong arms. The direwolf left his bone and followed as Osha carried Bran across the yard and down the spiral steps to the cold vault under the earth. Maester Luwin went ahead with a torch. Bran did not even mind-too badly-that she carried him in her arms and not on her back. Ser Rodrik had ordered Osha's chain struck off, since she had served faithfully and well since she had been at Winterfell. She still wore the heavy iron shackles around her ankles-a sign that she was not yet wholly trusted-but they did not hinder her sure strides down the steps.\n\nBran could not recall the last time he had been in the crypts. It had been before, for certain. When he was little, he used to play down herewith Robb and Jon and his sisters.\n\nHe wished they were here now; the vault might not have seemed so dark and scary. Summer stalked out in the echoing gloom, then stopped, lifted his head, and sniffed the chill dead air. He bared his teeth and crept backward, eyes glowing golden in the light of the maester's torch. Even Osha, hard as old iron, seemed uncomfortable. \"Grim folk, by the look of them,\" she said as she eyed the long row of granite Starks on their stone thrones.\n\n\"They were the Kings of Winter,\" Bran whispered. Somehow it felt wrong to talk too loudly in this place."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Osha smiled. \"Winter's got no king. If you'd seen it, you'd know that, summer boy.\"\n\n\"They were the Kings in the North for thousands of years,\" Maester Luwin said, lifting the torch high so the light shone on the stone faces. Some were hairy and bearded, shaggy men fierce as the wolves that crouched by their feet. Others were shaved clean, their features gaunt and sharp-edged as the iron longswords across their laps. \"Hard men fora hard time. Come.\" He strode briskly down the vault, past the procession of stone pillars and the endless carved figures. A tongue of flame trailed back from the upraised torch as he went.\n\nThe vault was cavernous, longer than Winterfell itself, and Jon had told him once that there were other levels underneath, vaults even deeper and darker where the older kings were buried. It would not do to lose the light. Summer refused to move from the steps, even when Osha followed the torch, Bran in her arms.\n\n\"Do you recall your history, Bran?\" the maester said as they walked. \"Tell Osha who they were and what they did, if you can.\"\n\nHe looked at the passing faces and the tales came back to him. The maester had told him the stories, and Old Nan had made them come alive. \"That one is Jon Stark. When the sea raiders landed in the east, he drove them out and built the castle at White Harbor. His son was Rickard Stark, not my father's father but another Rickard, he took the Neck away from the Marsh King and married his daughter. Theon Stark's the real thin one with the longhair and the skinny beard. They called him the \"Hungry Wolf,\" because he was always at war. That's a Brandon, the tall one with the dreamy face, he was Brandon the Shipwright, because he loved the sea. His tomb is empty. He tried to sail west across the Sunset Sea and was never seen again. His son was Brandon the Burner, because he put the torch to all his father's ships in grief. There's Rodrik Stark, who won Bear Island in a wrestling match and gave it to the Mormonts. And that's Torrhen Stark, the King Who Knelt. He was the last King in the North and the first Lord of Winterfell, after he yielded to Aegon the Conqueror. Oh, there, he's Cregan Stark. He fought with Prince Aemon once, and the Dragonknight said he'd never faced a finer swordsman.\" They were almost at the end now, and Bran felt a sadness creeping over him. \"And there's my grandfather, Lord Rickard, who was beheaded by Mad King Aerys. His daughter Lyanna and his son Brandon are in the tombs beside him. Not me, another Brandon, my father's brother. They're not supposed to have statues, that's only for the lords and the kings, but my father loved them so much he had them done.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The maid's a fair one,\" Osha said.\n\n\"Robert was betrothed to marry her, but Prince Rhaegar carried her off and raped her,\" Bran explained. \"Robert fought a war to win her back. He killed Rhaegar on the Trident with his hammer, but Lyanna died and he never got her back at all.\"\n\n\"A sad tale,\" said Osha, \"but those empty holes are sadder.\"\n\n\"Lord Eddard's tomb, for when his time comes,\" Maester Luwin said. \"Is this where you saw your father in your dream, Bran?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" The memory made him shiver. He looked around the vault uneasily, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling. Had he heard a noise? Was there someone here?\n\nMaester Luwin stepped toward the open sepulchre, torch in hand. \"As you see, he's not here. Nor will he be, for many a year. Dreams are only dreams, child.\" He thrust his arm into the blackness inside the tomb, as into the mouth of some great beast. \"Do you see? It's quite empt-\"\n\nThe darkness sprang at him, snarling.\n\nBran saw eyes like green fire, a flash of teeth, fur as black as the pit around them. Maester Luwin yelled and threw up his hands. The torch went flying from his fingers, caromed off the stone face of Brandon Stark, and tumbled to the statue's feet, the flames licking up his legs. In the drunken shifting torchlight, they saw Luwin struggling with the direwolf, beating at his muzzle with one hand while the jaws closed on the other.\n\n\"Summer!\" Bran screamed.\n\nAnd Summer came, shooting from the dimness behind them, a leaping shadow. He slammed into Shaggydog and knocked him back, and the two direwolves rolled over and over in a tangle of grey and black fur, snapping and biting at each other, while Maester Luwin struggled to his knees, his arm torn and bloody. Osha propped Bran up against Lord Rickard's stone wolf as she hurried to assist the maester. In the light of the guttering torch, shadow wolves twenty feet tall fought on the wall and roof."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Shaggy,\" a small voice called. When Bran looked up, his little brother was standing in the mouth of Father's tomb. With one final snap at Summer's face, Shaggydog broke off and bounded to Rickon's side. \"You let my father be,\" Rickon warned Luwin. \"You let him be.\"\n\n\"Rickon,\" Bran said softly. \"Father's not here.\"\n\n\"Yes he is. I saw him.\" Tears glistened on Rickon's face. \"I saw him last night.\"\n\n\"In your dream...?\"\n\nRickon nodded. \"You leave him. You leave him be. He's coming home now, like he promised. He's coming home.\"\n\nBran had never seen Maester Luwin look so uncertain before. Blood dripped down his arm where Shaggydog had shredded the wool of his sleeve and the flesh beneath. \"Osha, the torch,\" he said, biting through his pain, and she snatched it up before it went out. Soot stains blackened both legs of his uncle's likeness. \"That... that beast,\" Luwin went on, \"is supposed to be chained up in the kennels.\"\n\nRickon patted Shaggydog's muzzle, damp with blood. \"I let him loose. He doesn't like chains.\" He licked at his fingers.\n\n\"Rickon,\" Bran said, \"would you like to come with me?\"\n\n\"No. I like it here.\"\n\n\"It's dark here. And cold.\"\n\n\"I'm not afraid. I have to wait for Father.\"\n\n\"You can wait with me,\" Bran said. \"We'll wait together, you and me and our wolves.\" Both of the direwolves were licking wounds now, and would bear close watching."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bran,\" the maester said firmly, \"I know you mean well, but Shaggydog is too wild to run loose. I'm the third man he's savaged. Give him the freedom of the castle and it's only a question of time before he kills someone. The truth is hard, but the wolf has to be chained, or...\" He hesitated.\n\n... or killed, Bran thought, but what he said was, \"He was not made for chains. We will wait in your tower, all of us.\"\n\n\"That is quite impossible,\" Maester Luwin said.\n\nOsha grinned. \"The boy's the lordling here, as I recall.\" She handed Luwin back his torch and scooped Bran up into her arms again. \"The maester's tower it is.\"\n\n\"Will you come, Rickon?\"\n\nHis brother nodded. \"If Shaggy comes too,\" he said, running after Osha and Bran, and there was nothing Maester Luwin could do but follow, keeping a wary eye on the wolves.\n\nMaester Luwin's turret was so cluttered that it seemed to Bran a wonder that he ever found anything. Tottering piles of books covered tables and chairs, rows of stoppered jars lined the shelves, candle stubs and puddles of dried wax dotted the furniture, the bronze Myrish lens tube sat on a tripod by the terrace door, star charts hung from the walls, shadow maps lay scattered among the rushes, papers, quills, and pots of inks were everywhere, and all of it was spotted with droppings from the ravens in the rafters. Their strident quorks drifted down from above as Osha washed and cleaned and bandaged the maester's wounds, under Luwin's terse instruction. \"This is folly,\" the small grey man said while she dabbed at the wolf bites with a stinging ointment. \"I agree that it is odd that both you boys dreamed the same dream, yet when you stop to consider it, it's only natural. You miss your lord father, and you know that he is a captive. Fear can fever a man's mind and give him queer thoughts. Rickon is too young to comprehend-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'm four now,\" Rickon said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was peeking through the lens tube at the gargoyles on the First Keep. The direwolves sat on opposite sides of the large round room, licking their wounds and gnawing on bones.\n\n\"-too young, and-ooh, seven hells, that burns, no, don't stop, more. Too young, as I say, but you, Bran, you're old enough to know that dreams are only dreams.\"\n\n\"Some are, some aren't.\" Osha poured pale red firemilk into along gash. Luwin gasped. \"The children of the forest could tell you a thing or two about dreaming.\"\n\nTears were streaming down the maester's face, yet he shook his head doggedly. \"The children... live only in dreams. Now. Dead and gone. Enough, that's enough. Now the bandages. Pads and then wrap, and make it tight, I'll be bleeding.\"\n\n\"Old Nan says the children knew the songs of the trees, that they could fly like birds and swim like fish and talk to the animals,\" Bran said. \"She says that they made music so beautiful that it made you cry like a little baby just to hear it.\"\n\n\"And all this they did with magic,\" Maester Luwin said, distracted. \"I wish they were here now. Aspell would heal my arm less painfully, and they could talk to Shaggy dog and tell him not to bite.\" He gave the big black wolf an angry glance out of the corner of his eye. \"Take a lesson, Bran. The man who trusts in spells is dueling with a glass sword. As the children did. Here, let me show you something.\" He stood abruptly, crossed the room, and returned with a green jar in his good hand. \"Have a look at these,\" he said as he pulled the stopper and shook out a handful of shiny black arrowheads."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bran picked one up. \"It's made of glass.\" Curious, Rickon drifted closer to peer over the table.\n\n\"Dragonglass,\" Osha named it as she sat down beside Luwin, bandagings in hand.\n\n\"Obsidian,\" Maester Luwin insisted, holding out his wounded arm. \"Forged in the fires of the gods, far below the earth. The children of the forest hunted with that, thousands of years ago. The children worked no metal. In place of mail, they wore long shirts of woven leaves and bound their legs in bark, so they seemed to melt into the wood. In place of swords, they carried blades of obsidian.\"\n\n\"And still do.\" Osha placed soft pads over the bites on the maester's forearm and bound them tight with long strips of linen.\n\nBran held the arrowhead up close. The black glass was slick and shiny. He thought it beautiful. \"Can I keep one?\"\n\n\"As you wish,\" the maester said.\n\n\"I want one too,\" Rickon said. \"I want four. I'm four.\"\n\nLuwin made him count them out. \"Careful, they're still sharp. Don't cut yourself.\"\n\n\"Tell me about the children,\" Bran said. It was important.\n\n\"What do you wish to know?\"\n\n\"Everything.\"\n\nMaester Luwin tugged at his chain collar where it chafed against his neck. \"They were people of the Dawn Age, the very first, before kings and kingdoms,\" he said. \" In those days, there were no castles or holdfasts, no cities, not so much as a market town to be found between here and the sea of Dorne. There were no men at all. Only the children of the forest dwelt in the lands we now call the Seven Kingdoms."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They were a people dark and beautiful, small of stature, no taller than children even when grown to manhood. They lived in the depths of the wood, in caves and crannogs and secret tree towns. Slight as they were, the children were quick and graceful. Male and female hunted together, with weirwood bows and flying snares. Their gods were the gods of the forest, stream, and stone, the old gods whose names are secret. Their wise men were called greenseers, and carved strange faces in the weirwoods to keep watch on the woods. How long the children reigned here or where they came from, no man can know.\n\n\"But some twelve thousand years ago, the First Men appeared from the east, crossing the Broken Arm of Dorne before it was broken. They came with bronze swords and great leathern shields, riding horses. No horse had ever been seen on this side of the narrow sea. No doubt the children were as frightened by the horses as the First Men were by the faces in the trees. As the First Men carved out holdfasts and farms, they cut down the faces and gave them to the fire. Horror-struck, the children went to war. The old songs say that the greenseers used dark magics to make the seas rise and sweep away the land, shattering the Arm, but it was too late to close the door. The wars went on until the earth ran red with blood of men and children both, but more children than men, for men were bigger and stronger, and wood and stone and obsidian make a poor match for bronze. Finally the wise of both races prevailed, and the chiefs and heroes of the First Men met the greenseers and wood dancers amidst the weirwood groves of a small island in the great lake called Gods Eye.\n\n\"There they forged the Pact. The First Men were given the coastlands, the high plains and bright meadows, the mountains and bogs, but the deep woods were to remain forever the children's, and no more weirwoods were to be put to the axe anywhere in the realm. So the gods might bear witness to the signing, every tree on the island was given a face, and afterward, the sacred order of green men was formed to keep watch over the Isle of Faces."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Pact began four thousand years of friendship between men and children. In time, the First Men even put aside the gods they had brought with them, and took up the worship of the secret gods of the wood. The signing of the Pact ended the Dawn Age, and began the Age of Heroes.\"\n\nBran's fist curled around the shiny black arrowhead. \"But the children of the forest are all gone now, you said.\"\n\n\"Here, they are,\" said Osha, as she bit off the end of the last bandage with her teeth. \"North of the Wall, things are different. That's where the children went, and the giants, and the other old races.\"\n\nMaester Luwin sighed. \"Woman, by rights you ought to be dead or in chains. The Starks have treated you more gently than you deserve. It is unkind to repay them for their kindness by filling the boys' heads with folly.\"\n\n\"Tell me where they went,\" Bran said. \"I want to know.\"\n\n\"Me too,\" Rickon echoed.\n\n\"Oh, very well,\" Luwin muttered. \" So long as the kingdoms of the First Men held sway, the Pact endured, all through the Age of Heroes and the Long Night and the birth of the Seven Kingdoms, yet finally there came a time, many centuries later, when other peoples crossed the narrow sea.\n\n\"The Andals were the first, a race of tall, fair-haired warriors who came with steel and fire and the seven-pointed star of the new gods painted on their chests. The wars lasted hundreds of years, but in the end the six southron kingdoms all fell before them. Only here, where the King in the North threw back every army that tried to cross the Neck, did the rule of the First Men endure. The Andals burnt out the weirwood groves, hacked down the faces, slaughtered the children where they found them, and everywhere proclaimed the triumph of the Seven over the old gods. So the children fled north-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Summer began to howl.\n\nMaester Luwin broke off, startled. When Shaggydog bounded to his feet and added his voice to his brother's, dread clutched at Bran's heart. \"It's coming,\" he whispered, with the certainty of despair. He had known it since last night, he realized, since the crow had led him down into the crypts to say farewell. He had known it, but he had not believed. He had wanted Maester Luwin to be right. The crow, he thought, the three-eyed crow...\n\nThe howling stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Summer padded across the tower floor to Shaggydog, and began to lick at a mat of bloody fur on the back of his brother's neck. From the window came aflutter of wings.\n\nA raven landed on the grey stone sill, opened its beak, and gave a harsh, raucous rattle of distress.\n\nRickon began to cry. His arrowheads fell from his hand one by one and clattered on the floor. Bran pulled him close and hugged him.\n\nMaester Luwin stared at the blackbird as if it were a scorpion with feathers. He rose, slow as a sleepwalker, and moved to the window. When he whistled, the raven hopped onto his bandaged forearm. There was dried blood on its wings. \"A hawk,\" Luwin murmured, \"perhaps an owl. Poor thing, a wonder it got through.\" He took the letter from its leg.\n\nBran found himself shivering as the maester unrolled the paper. \"What is it?\" he said, holding his brother all the harder.\n\n\"You know what it is, boy,\" Osha said, not unkindly. She put her hand on his head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Maester Luwin looked up at them numbly, a small grey man with blood on the sleeve of his grey wool robe and tears in his bright grey eyes. \"My lords,\" he said to the sons, in a voice gone hoarse and shrunken, \"we... we shall need to find a stonecarver who knew his likeness well...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the tower room at the heart of Maegor's Holdfast, Sansa gave herself to the darkness.\n\nShe drew the curtains around her bed, slept, woke weeping, and slept again. When she could not sleep she lay under her blankets shivering with grief. Servants came and went, bringing meals, but the sight of food was more than she could bear. The dishes piled upon the table beneath her window, untouched and spoiling, until the servants took them away again.\n\nSometimes her sleep was leaden and dreamless, and she woke from it more tired than when she had closed her eyes. Yet those were the best times, for when she dreamed, she dreamed of Father. Waking or sleeping, she saw him, saw the gold cloaks fling him down, saw Ser Ilyn striding forward, unsheathing Ice from the scabbard on his back, saw the moment... the moment when... she had wanted to look away, she had wanted to, her legs had gone out from under her and she had fallen to her knees, yet somehow she could not turn her head, and all the people were screaming and shouting, and her prince had smiled at her, he'd smiled and she'd felt safe, but only fora heartbeat, until he said those words, and her father's legs... that was what she remembered, his legs, the way they'd jerked when Ser Ilyn... when the sword...\n\nPerhaps I will die too, she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her. If she flung herself from the window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. Her body would lie on the stones below, broken and innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her. Sansa went so far as to cross the bedchamber and throw open the shutters... but then her courage left her, and she ran back to her bed, sobbing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The serving girls tried to talk to her when they brought her meals, but she never answered them."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Once Grand Maester Pycelle came with a box of flasks and bottles, to ask if she was ill. He felt her brow, made her undress, and touched her allover while her bedmaid held her down. When he left he gave her a potion of honeywater and herbs and told her to drink a swallow every night. She drank it all right then and went back to sleep.\n\nShe dreamt of footsteps on the tower stair, an ominous scraping of leather on stone as a man climbed slowly toward her bedchamber, step by step. All she could do was huddle behind her door and listen, trembling, as he came closer and closer. It was Ser Ilyn Payne, she knew, coming for her with Ice in his hand, coming to take her head. There was no place to run, no place to hide, noway to bar the door. Finally the footsteps stopped and she knew he was just outside, standing there silent with his dead eyes and his long pocked face. That was when she realized she was naked. She crouched down, trying to cover herself with her hands, as her door began to swing open, creaking, the point of the greatsword poking through...\n\nShe woke murmuring, \"Please, please, I'll be good, I'll be good, please don't,\" but there was no one to hear.\n\nWhen they finally came for her in truth, Sansa never heard their footsteps. It was Joffrey who opened her door, not Ser Ilyn but the boy who had been her prince. She was in bed, curled uptight, her curtains drawn, and she could not have said if it was noon or midnight. The first thing she heard was the slam of the door. Then her bed hangings were yanked back, and she threw up a hand against the sudden light and saw them standing over her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You will attend me in court this afternoon,\" Joffrey said. \"See that you bathe and dress as befits my betrothed.\" Sandor Clegane stood at his shoulder in a plain brown doublet and green mantle, his burned face hideous in the morning light. Behind them were two knights of the Kingsguard in long white satin cloaks.\n\nSansa drew her blanket up to her chin to cover herself. \"No,\" she whimpered, \"please... leave me be.\"\n\n\"If you won't rise and dress yourself, my Hound will do it for you,\" Joffrey said.\n\n\"I beg of you, my prince...\"\n\n\"I'm king now. Dog, get her out of bed.\"\n\nSandor Clegane scooped her up around the waist and lifted her off the featherbed as she struggled feebly. Her blanket fell to the floor. Underneath she had only a thin bedgown to cover her nakedness. \"Do as you're bid, child,\" Clegane said. \"Dress.\" He pushed her toward her wardrobe, almost gently.\n\nSansa backed away from them. \"I did as the queen asked, I wrote the letters, I wrote what she told me. You promised you'd be merciful. Please, let me go home. I won't do any treason, I'll be good, I swear it, I don't have traitor's blood, I don't. I only want to go home.\" Remembering her courtesies, she lowered her head. \"As it please you,\" she finished weakly.\n\n\"It does not please me,\" Joffrey said. \"Mother says I'm still to marry you, so you'll stay here, and you'll obey.\"\n\n\"I don't want to marry you,\" Sansa wailed. \"You chopped off my father's head!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"He was a traitor."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I never promised to spare him, only that I'd be merciful, and I was. If he hadn't been your father, I would have had him torn or flayed, but I gave him a clean death.\"\n\nSansa stared at him, seeing him for the first time. He was wearing a padded crimson doublet patterned with lions and a cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar that framed his face. She wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome. His lips were as soft and red as the worms you found after a rain, and his eyes were vain and cruel. \"I hate you,\" she whispered.\n\nKing Joffrey's face hardened. \"My mother tells me that it isn't fitting that a king should strike his wife. Ser Meryn.\"\n\nThe knight was on her before she could think, yanking back her hand as she tried to shield her face and back-handing her across the ear with a gloved fist. Sansa did not remember falling, yet the next she knew she was sprawled on one knee amongst the rushes. Her head was ringing. Ser Meryn Trant stood over her, with blood on the knuckles of his white silk glove.\n\n\"Will you obey now, or shall I have him chastise you again?\"\n\nSansa's ear felt numb. She touched it, and her fingertips came away wet and red. \"I... as... as you command, my lord.\"\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Joffrey corrected her. \"I shall look for you in court.\" He turned and left.\n\nSer Meryn and Ser Arys followed him out, but Sandor Clegane lingered long enough to yank her roughly to her feet. \"Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What... what does he want? Please, tell me.\"\n\n\"He wants you to smile and smell sweet and be his ladylove,\" the Hound rasped. \"He wants to hear you recite all your pretty little words the way the septa taught you. He wants you to love him... and fear him.\"\n\nAfter he was gone, Sansa sank back onto the rushes, staring at the wall until two of her bedmaids crept timidly into the chamber. \"I will need hot water for my bath, please,\" she told them, \"and perfume, and some powder to hide this bruise.\" The right side of her face was swollen and beginning to ache, but she knew Joffrey would want her to be beautiful.\n\nThe hot water made her think of Winterfell, and she took strength from that. She had not washed since the day her father died, and she was startled at how filthy the water became. Her maids sluiced the blood off her face, scrubbed the dirt from her back, washed her hair and brushed it out until it sprang back in thick auburn curls. Sansa did not speak to them, except to give them commands; they were Lannister servants, not her own, and she did not trust them. When the time came to dress, she chose the green silk gown that she had worn to the tourney. She recalled how gallant Joff had been to her that night at the feast. Perhaps it would make him remember as well, and treat her more gently.\n\nShe drank a glass of buttermilk and nibbled at some sweet biscuits as she waited, to settle her stomach. It was midday when Ser Meryn returned. He had donned his white armor; a shirt of enameled scales chased with gold, a tall helm with a golden sunburst crest, greaves and gorget and gauntlet and boots of gleaming plate, a heavy wool cloak clasped with a golden lion. His visor had been removed from his helm, to better show his dour face; pouchy bags under his eyes, a wide sour mouth, rusty hair spotted with grey. \"My lady,\" he said, bowing, as if he had not beaten her bloody only three hours past. \"His Grace has instructed me to escort you to the throne room.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did he instruct you to hit me if I refused to come?\"\n\n\"Are you refusing to come, my lady?\" The look he gave her was without expression. He did not so much as glance at the bruise he had left her.\n\nHe did not hate her, Sansa realized; neither did he love her. He felt nothing for her at all. She was only a... a thing to him. \"No,\" she said, rising. She wanted to rage, to hurt him as he'd hurt her, to warn him that when she was queen she would have him exiled if he ever dared strike her again... but she remembered what the Hound had told her, so all she said was, \"I shall do whatever His Grace commands.\"\n\n\"As I do,\" he replied.\n\n\"Yes... but you are no true knight, Ser Meryn.\"\n\nSandor Clegane would have laughed at that, Sansa knew. Other men might have cursed her, warned her to keep silent, even begged for her forgiveness. Ser Meryn Trant did none of these. Ser Meryn Trant simply did not care.\n\nThe balcony was deserted save for Sansa. She stood with her head bowed, fighting to hold back her tears, while below Joffrey sat on his Iron Throne and dispensed what it pleased him to call justice. Nine cases out often seemed to bore him; those he allowed his council to handle, squirming restlessly while Lord Baelish, Grand Maester Pycelle, or Queen Cersei resolved the matter. When he did choose to make a ruling, though, not even his queen mother could sway him.\n\nA thief was brought before him and he had Ser Ilyn chop his hand off, right therein court. Two knights came to him with a dispute about some land, and he decreed that they should duel for it on the morrow. \"To the death,\" he added. A woman fell to her knees to plead for the head of a man executed as a traitor. She had loved him, she said, and she wanted to see him decently buried. \"If you loved a traitor, you must be a traitor too,\" Joffrey said. Two gold cloaks dragged her off to the dungeons."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Frog-faced Lord Slynt sat at the end of the council table wearing a black velvet doublet and a shiny cloth-of-gold cape, nodding with approval every time the king pronounced a sentence. Sansa stared hard at his ugly face, remembering how he had thrown down her father for Ser Ilyn to behead, wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cutoff his head. But a voice inside her whispered, There are no heroes, and she remembered what Lord Petyr had said to her, herein this very hall. \"Life is not a song, sweetling,\" he'd told her. \"You may learn that one day to your sorrow.\" In life, the monsters win, she told herself, and now it was the Hound's voice she heard, a cold rasp, metal on stone. \"Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants.\"\n\nThe last case was a plump tavern singer, accused of making a song that ridiculed the late King Robert. Joff commanded them to fetch his woodharp and ordered him to perform the song for the court. The singer wept and swore he would never sing that song again, but the king insisted. It was sort of a funny song, all about Robert fighting with a pig. The pig was the boar who'd killed him, Sansa knew, but in some verses it almost sounded as if he were singing about the queen. When the song was done, Joffrey announced that he'd decided to be merciful. The singer could keep either his fingers or his tongue. He would have a day to make his choice. Janos Slynt nodded.\n\nThat was the final business of the afternoon, Sansa saw with relief, but her ordeal was not yet done. When the herald's voice dismissed the court, she fled the balcony, only to find Joffrey waiting for her at the base of the curving stairs. The Hound was with him, and Ser Meryn as well. The young king examined her critically, top to bottom. \"You look much better than you did.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Thank you, Your Grace,\" Sansa said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hollow words, but they made him nod and smile.\n\n\"Walk with me,\" Joffrey commanded, offering her his arm. She had no choice but to take it. The touch of his hand would have thrilled her once; now it made her flesh crawl. \"My name day will be here soon,\" Joffrey said as they slipped out the rear of the throne room. \"There will be a great feast, and gifts. What are you going to give me?\"\n\n\"I... I had not thought, my lord.\"\n\n\"Your Grace,\" he said sharply. \"You truly area stupid girl, aren't you? My mother says so.\"\n\n\"She does?\" After all that had happened, his words should have lost their power to hurt her, yet somehow they had not. The queen had always been so kind to her.\n\n\"Oh, yes. She worries about our children, whether they'll be stupid like you, but I told her not to trouble herself.\" The king gestured, and Ser Meryn opened a door for them.\n\n\"Thank you, Your Grace,\" she murmured. The Hound was right, she thought, I am only a little bird, repeating the words they taught me. The sun had fallen below the western wall, and the stones of the Red Keep glowed dark as blood.\n\n\"I'll get you with child as soon as you're able,\" Joffrey said as he escorted her across the practice yard. \"If the first one is stupid, I'll chop off your head and find a smarter wife. When do you think you'll be able to have children?\"\n\nSansa could not look at him, he shamed her so. \"Septa Mordane says most... most highborn girls have their flowering at twelve or thirteen.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Joffrey nodded. \"This way.\" He led her into the gatehouse, to the base of the steps that led up to the battlements.\n\nSansa jerked back away from him, trembling. Suddenly she knew where they were going. \"No,\" she said, her voice a frightened gasp. \"Please, no, don't make me, I beg you...\"\n\nJoffrey pressed his lips together. \"I want to show you what happens to traitors.\"\n\nSansa shook her head wildly. \"I won't. I won't.\"\n\n\"I can have Ser Meryn drag you up,\" he said. \"You won't like that. You had better do what I say.\" Joffrey reached for her, and Sansa cringed away from him, backing into the Hound.\n\n\"Do it, girl,\" Sandor Clegane told her, pushing her back toward the king. His mouth twitched on the burned side of his face and Sansa could almost hear the rest of it. He'll have you up there no matter what, so give him what he wants.\n\nShe forced herself to take King Joffrey's hand. The climb was something out of a nightmare; every step was a struggle, as if she were pulling her feet out of ankle-deep mud, and there were more steps than she would have believed, a thousand thousand steps, and horror waiting on the ramparts.\n\nFrom the high battlements of the gatehouse, the whole world spread out below them. Sansa could seethe Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya's hill, where her father had died. At the other end of the Street of the Sisters stood the fire-blackened ruins of the Dragonpit. To the west, the swollen red sun was half-hidden behind the Gate of the Gods. The salt sea was at her back, and to the south was the fish market and the docks and the swirling torrent of the Blackwater Rush. And to the north..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She turned that way, and saw only the city, streets and alleys and hills and bottoms and more streets and more alleys and the stone of distant walls. Yet she knew that beyond them was open country, farms and fields and forests, and beyond that, north and north and north again, stood Winterfell.\n\n\"What are you looking at?\" Joffrey said. \"This is what I wanted you to see, right here.\"\n\nA thick stone parapet protected the outer edge of the rampart, reaching as high as Sansa's chin, with crenellations cut into it every five feet for archers. The heads were mounted between the crenels, along the top of the wall, impaled on iron spikes so they faced out over the city. Sansa had noted them the moment she'd stepped out onto the wallwalk, but the river and the bustling streets and the setting sun were ever so much prettier. He can make me look at the heads, she told herself, but he can't make me see them.\n\n\"This one is your father,\" he said. \"This one here. Dog, turn it around so she can see him.\"\n\nSandor Clegane took the head by the hair and turned it. The severed head had been dipped in tar to preserve it longer. Sansa looked at it calmly, not seeing it at all. It did not really look like Lord Eddard, she thought; it did not even look real. \"How long do I have to look?\"\n\nJoffrey seemed disappointed. \"Do you want to seethe rest?\" There was along row of them.\n\n\"If it please Your Grace.\"\n\nJoffrey marched her down the wallwalk, pasta dozen more heads and two empty spikes. \"I'm saving those for my uncle Stannis and my uncle Renly,\" he explained. The other heads had been dead and mounted much longer than her father. Despite the tar, most were long past being recognizable. The king pointed to one and said, \"That's your septa there,\" but Sansa could not even have told that it was a woman. The jaw had rotted off her face, and birds had eaten one ear and most of a cheek."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 70"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She turned that way, and saw only the city, streets and alleys and hills and bottoms and more streets and more alleys and the stone of distant walls. Yet she knew that beyond them was open country, farms and fields and forests, and beyond that, north and north and north again, stood Winterfell.\n\n\"What are you looking at?\" Joffrey said. \"This is what I wanted you to see, right here.\"\n\nA thick stone parapet protected the outer edge of the rampart, reaching as high as Sansa's chin, with crenellations cut into it every five feet for archers. The heads were mounted between the crenels, along the top of the wall, impaled on iron spikes so they faced out over the city. Sansa had noted them the moment she'd stepped out onto the wallwalk, but the river and the bustling streets and the setting sun were ever so much prettier. He can make me look at the heads, she told herself, but he can't make me see them.\n\n\"This one is your father,\" he said. \"This one here. Dog, turn it around so she can see him.\"\n\nSandor Clegane took the head by the hair and turned it. The severed head had been dipped in tar to preserve it longer. Sansa looked at it calmly, not seeing it at all. It did not really look like Lord Eddard, she thought; it did not even look real. \"How long do I have to look?\"\n\nJoffrey seemed disappointed. \"Do you want to seethe rest?\" There was along row of them.\n\n\"If it please Your Grace.\"\n\nJoffrey marched her down the wallwalk, pasta dozen more heads and two empty spikes. \"I'm saving those for my uncle Stannis and my uncle Renly,\" he explained. The other heads had been dead and mounted much longer than her father. Despite the tar, most were long past being recognizable. The king pointed to one and said, \"That's your septa there,\" but Sansa could not even have told that it was a woman. The jaw had rotted off her face, and birds had eaten one ear and most of a cheek."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sansa had wondered what had happened to Septa Mordane, although she supposed she had known all along. \"Why did you kill her?\" she asked. \"She was god-sworn...\"\n\n\"She was a traitor.\" Joffrey looked pouty; somehow she was upsetting him. \"You haven't said what you mean to give me for my name day. Maybe I should give you something instead, would you like that?\"\n\n\"If it please you, my lord,\" Sansa said.\n\nWhen he smiled, she knew he was mocking her. \"Your brother is a traitor too, you know.\" He turned Septa Mordane's head back around. \"I remember your brother from Winterfell. My dog called him the lord of the wooden sword. Didn't you, dog?\"\n\n\"Did I?\" the Hound replied. \"I don't recall.\"\n\nJoffrey gave a petulant shrug. \"Your brother defeated my uncle Jaime. My mother says it was treachery and deceit. She wept when she heard. Women are all weak, even her, though she pretends she isn't. She says we need to stay in King's Landing in case my other uncles attack, but I don't care. After my name day feast, I'm going to raise a host and kill your brother myself. That's what I'll give you, Lady Sansa. Your brother's head.\"\n\nA kind of madness took over her then, and she heard herself say, \"Maybe my brother will give me your head.\"\n\nJoffrey scowled. \"You must never mock me like that. A true wife does not mock her lord. Ser Meryn, teach her.\"\n\nThis time the knight grasped her beneath the jaw and held her head still as he struck her. He hither twice, left to right, and harder, right to left. Her lip split and blood ran down her chin, to mingle with the salt of her tears."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You shouldn't be crying all the time,\" Joffrey told her. \"You're more pretty when you smile and laugh.\"\n\nSansa made herself smile, afraid that he would have Ser Meryn hither again if she did not, but it was no good, the king still shook his head. \"Wipe off the blood, you're all messy.\"\n\nThe outer parapet came up to her chin, but along the inner edge of the walk was nothing, nothing but along plunge to the bailey seventy or eighty feet below. All it would take was a shove, she told herself. He was standing right there, right there, smirking at her with those fat wormlips. You could do it, she told herself. You could. Do it right now. It wouldn't even matter if she went over with him. It wouldn't matter at all.\n\n\"Here, girl.\" Sandor Clegane knelt before her, between her and Joffrey. With a delicacy surprising in such a big man, he dabbed at the blood welling from her broken lip.\n\nThe moment was gone. Sansa lowered her eyes. \"Thank you,\" she said when he was done. She was a good girl, and always remembered her courtesies."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Wings shadowed her fever dreams.\n\n\"You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?\"\n\nShe was walking down along hall beneath high stone arches. She could not look behind her, must not look behind her. There was a door ahead of her, tiny with distance, but even from afar, she saw that it was painted red. She walked faster, and her bare feet left bloody footprints on the stone.\n\n\"You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?\"\n\nShe saw sunlight on the Dothraki sea, the living plain, rich with the smells of earth and death. Wind stirred the grasses, and they rippled like water. Drogo held her in strong arms, and his hand stroked her sex and opened her and woke that sweet wetness that was his alone, and the stars smiled down on them, stars in a daylight sky. \"Home,\" she whispered as he entered her and filled her with his seed, but suddenly the stars were gone, and across the blue sky swept the great wings, and the world took flame.\n\n\"... don't want to wake the dragon, do you?\"\n\nSer Jorah's face was drawn and sorrowful. \"Rhaegar was the last dragon,\" he told her. He warmed translucent hands over a glowing brazier where stone eggs smouldered red as coals. One moment he was there and the next he was fading, his flesh colorless, less substantial than the wind. \"The last dragon,\" he whispered, thin as a wisp, and was gone. She felt the dark behind her, and the red door seemed farther away than ever.\n\n\"... don't want to wake the dragon, do you?\"\n\nViserys stood before her, screaming. \"The dragon does not beg, slut. You do not command the dragon. I am the dragon, and I will be crowned.\" The molten gold trickled down his face like wax, burning deep channels in his flesh. \"I am the dragon and I will be crowned!\" he shrieked, and his fingers snapped like snakes, biting at her nipples, pinching, twisting, even as his eyes burst and ran like jelly down seared and blackened cheeks."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"... don't want to wake the dragon...\"\n\nThe red door was so far ahead of her, and she could feel the icy breath behind, sweeping upon her. If it caught her she would die a death that was more than death, howling forever alone in the darkness. She began to run.\n\n\"... don't want to wake the dragon...\"\n\nShe could feel the heat inside her, a terrible burning in her womb. Her son was tall and proud, with Drogo's copper skin and her own silver-gold hair, violet eyes shaped like almonds. And he smiled for her and began to lift his hand toward hers, but when he opened his mouth the fire poured out. She saw his heart burning through his chest, and in an instant he was gone, consumed like a moth by a candle, turned to ash. She wept for her child, the promise of a sweet mouth on her breast, but her tears turned to steam as they touched her skin.\n\n\"... want to wake the dragon...\"\n\nGhosts lined the hallway, dressed in the faded raiment of kings. In their hands were swords of pale fire. They had hair of silver and hair of gold and hair of platinum white, and their eyes were opal and amethyst, tourmaline and jade. \"Faster,\" they cried, \"faster, faster.\" She raced, her feet melting the stone wherever they touched. \"Faster!\" the ghosts cried as one, and she screamed and threw herself forward. A great knife of pain ripped down her back, and she felt her skin tear open and smelled the stench of burning blood and saw the shadow of wings. And Daenerys Targaryen flew.\n\n\"... wake the dragon...\"\n\nThe door loomed before her, the red door, so close, so close, the hall was a blur around her, the cold receding behind. And now the stone was gone and she flew across the Dothraki sea, high and higher, the green rippling beneath, and all that lived and breathed fled in terror from the shadow of her wings. She could smell home, she could see it, there, just beyond that door, green fields and great stone houses and arms to keep her warm, there. She threw open the door."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"... the dragon...\"\n\nAnd saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. \"The last dragon,\" Ser Jorah's voice whispered faintly. \"The last, the last.\" Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within washer own.\n\nAfter that, fora longtime, there was only the pain, the fire within her, and the whisperings of stars.\n\nShe woke to the taste of ashes.\n\n\"No,\" she moaned, \"no, please.\"\n\n\"Khaleesi?\" Jhiqui hovered over her, a frightened doe.\n\nThe tent was drenched in shadow, still and close. Flakes of ash drifted upward from a brazier, and Dany followed them with her eyes through the smoke hole above. Flying, she thought. I had wings, I was flying. But it was only a dream. \"Help me,\" she whispered, struggling to rise. \"Bring me...\" Her voice was raw as a wound, and she could not think what she wanted. Why did she hurt so much? It was as if her body had been torn to pieces and remade from the scraps. \"I want...\"\n\n\"Yes, Khaleesi.\" Quick as that Jhiqui was gone, bolting from the tent, shouting. Dany needed... something... someone... what? It was important, she knew. It was the only thing in the world that mattered. She rolled onto her side and got an elbow under her, fighting the blanket tangled about her legs. It was so hard to move. The world swam dizzily. I have to...\n\nThey found heron the carpet, crawling toward her dragon eggs. Ser Jorah Mormont lifted her in his arms and carried her back to her sleeping silks, while she struggled feebly against him. Over his shoulder she saw her three handmaids, Jhogo with his little wisp of mustache, and the flat broad face of Mirri Maz Duur. \"I must,\" she tried to tell them, \"I have to...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"..."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "sleep, Princess,\" Ser Jorah said.\n\n\"No,\" Dany said. \"Please. Please.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" He covered her with silk, though she was burning. \"Sleep and grow strong again, Khaleesi. Comeback to us.\" And then Mirri Maz Duur was there, the maegi, tipping a cup against her lips. She tasted sour milk, and something else, something thick and bitter. Warm liquid ran down her chin. Somehow she swallowed. The tent grew dimmer, and sleep took her again. This time she did not dream. She floated, serene and at peace, on a black sea that knew no shore.\n\nAfter a time-a night, a day, a year, she could not say-she woke again. The tent was dark, its silken walls flapping like wings when the wind gusted outside. This time Dany did not attempt to rise. \"Irri,\" she called, \"Jhiqui. Doreah.\" They were thereat once. \"My throat is dry,\" she said, \"so dry,\" and they brought her water. It was warm and flat, yet Dany drank it eagerly, and sent Jhiqui for more. Irri dampened a soft cloth and stroked her brow. \"I have been sick,\" Dany said. The Dothraki girl nodded. \"How long?\" The cloth was soothing, but Irri seemed so sad, it frightened her. \"Long,\" she whispered. When Jhiqui returned with more water, Mirri Maz Duur came with her, eyes heavy from sleep. \"Drink,\" she said, lifting Dany's head to the cup once more, but this time it was only wine. Sweet, sweet wine. Dany drank, and lay back, listening to the soft sound of her own breathing. She could feel the heaviness in her limbs, as sleep crept into fill her up once more. \"Bring me...\" she murmured, her voice slurred and drowsy. \"Bring... I want to hold...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes?\" the maegi asked. \"What is it you wish, Khaleesi?\"\n\n\"Bring me... egg... dragon's egg... please...\" Her lashes turned to lead, and she was too weary to hold them up.\n\nWhen she woke the third time, a shaft of golden sunlight was pouring through the smoke hole of the tent, and her arms were wrapped around a dragon's egg. It was the pale one, its scales the color of buttercream, veined with whorls of gold and bronze, and Dany could feel the heat of it. Beneath her bedsilks, a fine sheen of perspiration covered her bare skin. Dragondew, she thought. Her fingers trailed lightly across the surface of the shell, tracing the wisps of gold, and deep in the stone she felt something twist and stretch in response. It did not frighten her. All her fear was gone, burned away.\n\nDany touched her brow. Under the film of sweat, her skin was cool to the touch, her fever gone. She made herself sit. There was a moment of dizziness, and the deep ache between her thighs. Yet she felt strong. Her maids came running at the sound of her voice. \"Water,\" she told them, \"a flagon of water, cold as you can find it. And fruit, I think. Dates.\"\n\n\"As you say, Khaleesi.\"\n\n\"I want Ser Jorah,\" she said, standing. Jhiqui brought a sandsilk robe and draped it over her shoulders. \"And a warm bath, and Mirri Maz Duur, and...\" Memory came back to her all at once, and she faltered. \"Khal Drogo,\" she forced herself to say, watching their faces with dread. \"Is he-?\"\n\n\"The khal lives,\" Irri answered quietly... yet Dany saw a darkness in her eyes when she said the words, and no sooner had she spoken than she rushed away to fetch water."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She turned to Doreah. \"Tell me.\"\n\n\"I... I shall bring Ser Jorah,\" the Lysene girl said, bowing her head and fleeing the tent.\n\nJhiqui would have run as well, but Dany caught her by the wrist and held her captive. \"What is it? I must know. Drogo... and my child.\" Why had she not remembered the child until now? \"My son... Rhaego... where is he? I want him.\"\n\nHer handmaid lowered her eyes. \"The boy... he did not live, Khaleesi.\" Her voice was a frightened whisper.\n\nDany released her wrist. My son is dead, she thought as Jhiqui left the tent. She had known somehow. She had known since she woke the first time to Jhiqui's tears. No, she had known before she woke. Her dream came back to her, sudden and vivid, and she remembered the tall man with the copper skin and long silver-gold braid, bursting into flame.\n\nShe should weep, she knew, yet her eyes were dry as ash. She had wept in her dream, and the tears had turned to steam on her cheeks. All the grief has been burned out of me, she told herself. She felt sad, and yet... she could feel Rhaego receding from her, as if he had never been.\n\nSer Jorah and Mirri Maz Duur entered a few moments later, and found Dany standing over the other dragon's eggs, the two still in their chest. It seemed to her that they felt as hot as the one she had slept with, which was passing strange. \"Ser Jorah, come here,\" she said. She took his hand and placed it on the black egg with the scarlet swirls. \"What do you feel?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Shell, hard as rock.\" The knight was wary. \"Scales.\"\n\n\"Heat?\"\n\n\"No. Cold stone.\" He took his hand away. \"Princess, are you well? Should you be up, weak as you are?\"\n\n\"Weak? I am strong, Jorah.\" To please him, she reclined on a pile of cushions. \"Tell me how my child died.\"\n\n\"He never lived, my princess. The women say...\" He faltered, and Dany saw how the flesh hung loose on him, and the way he limped when he moved.\n\n\"Tell me. Tell me what the women say.\"\n\nHe turned his face away. His eyes were haunted. \"They say the child was...\"\n\nShe waited, but Ser Jorah could not say it. His face grew dark with shame. He looked half a corpse himself.\n\n\"Monstrous,\" Mirri Maz Duur finished for him. The knight was a powerful man, yet Dany understood in that moment that the maegi was stronger, and crueler, and infinitely more dangerous. \"Twisted. I drew him forth myself. He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him, the flesh sloughed off the bone, and inside he was full of graveworms and the stink of corruption. He had been dead for years.\"\n\nDarkness, Dany thought. The terrible darkness sweeping up behind to devour her. If she looked back she was lost. \"My son was alive and strong when Ser Jorah carried me into this tent,\" she said. \"I could feel him kicking, fighting to be born.\"\n\n\"That maybe as it maybe,\" answered Mirri Maz Duur, \"yet the creature that came forth from your womb was as I said. Death was in that tent, Khaleesi.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Only shadows,\" Ser Jorah husked, but Dany could hear the doubt in his voice."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I saw, maegi. I saw you, alone, dancing with the shadows.\"\n\n\"The grave casts long shadows, Iron Lord,\" Mirri said. \"Long and dark, and in the end no light can hold them back.\"\n\nSer Jorah had killed her son, Dany knew. He had done what he did for love and loyalty, yet he had carried her into a place no living man should go and fed her baby to the darkness. He knew it too; the grey face, the hollow eyes, the limp. \"The shadows have touched you too, Ser Jorah,\" she told him. The knight made no reply. Dany turned to the godswife. \"You warned me that only death could pay for life. I thought you meant the horse.\"\n\n\"No,\" Mirri Maz Duur said. \"That was a lie you told yourself. You knew the price.\"\n\nHad she? Had she? If I look back I am lost. \"The price was paid,\" Dany said. \"The horse, my child, Quaro and Qotho, Haggo and Cohollo. The price was paid and paid and paid.\" She rose from her cushions. \"Where is Khal Drogo? Show him tome, godswife, maegi, bloodmage, whatever you are. Show me Khal Drogo. Show me what I bought with my son's life.\"\n\n\"As you command, Khaleesi,\" the old woman said. \"Come, I will take you to him.\"\n\nDany was weaker than she knew. Ser Jorah slipped an arm around her and helped her stand. \"Time enough for this later, my princess,\" he said quietly.\n\n\"I would see him now, Ser Jorah.\"\n\nAfter the dimness of the tent, the world outside was blinding bright. The sunburned like molten gold, and the land was seared and empty. Her handmaids waited with fruit and wine and water, and Jhogo moved close to help Ser Jorah support her. Aggo and Rakharo stood behind. The glare of sun on sand made it hard to see more, until Dany raised her hand to shade her eyes. She saw the ashes of afire, a few score horses milling listlessly and searching fora bite of grass, a scattering of tents and bedrolls. A small crowd of children had gathered to watch her, and beyond she glimpsed women going about their work, and withered old men staring at the flat blue sky with tired eyes, swatting feebly at bloodflies. A count might show a hundred people, no more. Where the other forty thousand had made their camp, only the wind and dust lived now."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Drogo's khalasar is gone,\" she said.\n\n\"A khal who cannot ride is no khal,\" said Jhogo.\n\n\"The Dothraki follow only the strong,\" Ser Jorah said. \"I am sorry, my princess. There was noway to hold them. Ko Pono left first, naming himself Khal Pono, and many followed him. Jhaqo was not long to do the same. The rest slipped away night by night, in large bands and small. There area dozen new khalasars on the Dothraki sea, where once there was only Drogo's.\"\n\n\"The old remain,\" said Aggo. \"The frightened, the weak, and the sick. And we who swore. We remain.\"\n\n\"They took Khal Drogo's herds, Khaleesi,\" Rakharo said. \"We were too few to stop them. It is the right of the strong to take from the weak. They took many slaves as well, the khal's and yours, yet they left some few.\"\n\n\"Eroeh?\" asked Dany, remembering the frightened child she had saved outside the city of the Lamb Men.\n\n\"Mago seized her, who is Khal Jhaqo's bloodrider now,\" said Jhogo. \"He mounted her high and low and gave her to his khal, and Jhaqo gave her to his other bloodriders. They were six. When they were done with her, they cut her throat.\"\n\n\"It washer fate, Khaleesi,\" said Aggo.\n\nIf I look back I am lost. \"It was a cruel fate,\" Dany said, \"yet not so cruel as Mago's will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear it by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Dothraki exchanged uncertain glances. \"Khaleesi,\" the handmaid Irri explained, as if to a child, \"Jhaqo is a khal now, with twenty thousand riders at his back.\"\n\nShe lifted her head. \"And I am Daenerys Stormborn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragon's daughter, and I swear to you, these men will die screaming. Now bring me to Khal Drogo.\"\n\nHe was lying on the bare red earth, staring up at the sun.\n\nA dozen bloodflies had settled on his body, though he did not seem to feel them. Dany brushed them away and knelt beside him. His eyes were wide open but did not see, and she knew at once that he was blind. When she whispered his name, he did not seem to hear. The wound on his breast was as healed as it would ever be, the scar that covered it grey and red and hideous.\n\n\"Why is he out here alone, in the sun?\" she asked them.\n\n\"He seems to like the warmth, Princess,\" Ser Jorah said. \"His eyes follow the sun, though he does not see it. He can walk after a fashion. He will go where you lead him, but no farther. He will eat if you put food in his mouth, drink if you dribble water on his lips.\"\n\nDany kissed her sun-and-stars gently on the brow, and stood to face Mirri Maz Duur. \"Your spells are costly, maegi.\"\n\n\"He lives,\" said Mirri Maz Duur. \"You asked for life. You paid for life.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This is not life, for one who was as Drogo was. His life was laughter, and meat roasting over a firepit, and a horse between his legs. His life was an arakh in his hand and his bells ringing in his hair as he rode to meet an enemy. His life was his bloodriders, and me, and the son I was to give him.\"\n\nMirri Maz Duur made no reply.\n\n\"When will he be as he was?\" Dany demanded.\n\n\"When the sunrises in the west and sets in the east,\" said Mirri Maz Duur. \"When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before.\"\n\nDany gestured at Ser Jorah and the others. \"Leave us. I would speak with this maegi alone.\" Mormont and the Dothraki withdrew. \"You knew,\" Dany said when they were gone. She ached, inside and out, but her fury gave her strength. \"You knew what I was buying, and you knew the price, and yet you let me pay it.\"\n\n\"It was wrong of them to burn my temple,\" the heavy, flat-nosed woman said placidly. \"That angered the Great Shepherd.\"\n\n\"This was no god's work,\" Dany said coldly. If I look back I am lost. \"You cheated me. You murdered my child within me.\"\n\n\"The stallion who mounts the world will burn no cities now. His khalasar shall trample no nations into dust.\"\n\n\"I spoke for you,\" she said, anguished. \"I saved you.\"\n\n\"Saved me?\" The Lhazareen woman spat. \"Three riders had taken me, not as a man takes a woman but from behind, as a dog takes a bitch. The fourth was in me when you rode past. How then did you save me? I saw my god's house burn, where I had healed good men beyond counting. My home they burned as well, and in the street I saw piles of heads. I saw the head of a baker who made my bread. I saw the head of a boy I had saved from deadeye fever, only three moons past. I heard children crying as the riders drove them off with their whips. Tell me again what you saved.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your life.\"\n\nMirri Maz Duur laughed cruelly. \"Look to your khal and see what life is worth, when all the rest is gone.\"\n\nDany called out for the men of her khas and bid them take Mirri Maz Duur and bind her hand and foot, but the maegi smiled at her as they carried her off, as if they shared a secret. A word, and Dany could have her head off... yet then what would she have? Ahead? If life was worthless, what was death?\n\nThey led Khal Drogo back to her tent, and Dany commanded them to fill a tub, and this time there was no blood in the water. She bathed him herself, washing the dirt and the dust from his arms and chest, cleaning his face with a soft cloth, soaping his long black hair and combing the knots and tangles from it till it shone again as she remembered. It was well past dark before she was done, and Dany was exhausted. She stopped for drink and food, but it was all she could do to nibble at a fig and keep down a mouthful of water. Sleep would have been a release, but she had slept enough... too long, in truth. She owed this night to Drogo, for all the nights that had been, and yet might be.\n\nThe memory of their first ride was with her when she led him out into the darkness, for the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man's life must be done beneath the open sky. She told herself that there were powers stronger than hatred, and spells older and truer than any the maegi had learned in Asshai. The night was black and moonless, but overhead a million stars burned bright. She took that for an omen."
},
{
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"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No soft blanket of grass welcomed them here, only the hard dusty ground, bare and strewn with stones. No trees stirred in the wind, and there was no stream to soothe her fears with the gentle music of water. Dany told herself that the stars would be enough. \"Remember, Drogo,\" she whispered. \"Remember our first ride together, the day we wed. Remember the night we made Rhaego, with the khalasar all around us and your eyes on my face. Remember how cool and clean the water was in the Womb of the World. Remember, my sun-and-stars. Remember, and comeback tome.\"\n\nThe birth had left her too raw and torn to take him inside of her, as she would have wanted, but Doreah had taught her other ways. Dany used her hands, her mouth, her breasts. She raked him with her nails and covered him with kisses and whispered and prayed and told him stories, and by the end she had bathed him with her tears. Yet Drogo did not feel, or speak, or rise.\n\nAnd when the bleak dawn broke over an empty horizon, Dany knew that he was truly lost to her. \"When the sunrises in the west and sets in the east,\" she said sadly. \"When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before.\"\n\nNever, the darkness cried, never never never.\n\nInside the tent Dany found a cushion, soft silk stuffed with feathers. She clutched it to her breasts as she walked back out to Drogo, to her sun-and-stars. If I look back I am lost. It hurt even to walk, and she wanted to sleep, to sleep and not to dream."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She knelt, kissed Drogo on the lips, and pressed the cushion down across his face."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They have my son,\" Tywin Lannister said.\n\n\"They do, my lord.\" The messenger's voice was dulled by exhaustion. On the breast of his torn surcoat, the brindled boar of Crakehall was half-obscured by dried blood.\n\nOne of your sons, Tyrion thought. He took a sip of wine and said not a word, thinking of Jaime. When he lifted his arm, pain shot through his elbow, reminding him of his own brief taste of battle. He loved his brother, but he would not have wanted to be with him in the Whispering Wood for all the gold in Casterly Rock.\n\nHis lord father's assembled captains and bannermen had fallen very quiet as the courier told his tale. The only sound was the crackle and hiss of the log burning in the hearth at the end of the long, drafty common room.\n\nAfter the hardships of the long relentless drive south, the prospect of even a single night in an inn had cheered Tyrion mightily... though he rather wished it had not been this inn again, with all its memories. His father had set a grueling pace, and it had taken its toll. Men wounded in the battle kept up as best they could or were abandoned to fend for themselves. Every morning they left a few more by the roadside, men who went to sleep never to wake. Every afternoon a few more collapsed along the way. And every evening a few more deserted, stealing off into the dusk. Tyrion had been half-tempted to go with them.\n\nHe had been upstairs, enjoying the comfort of a featherbed and the warmth of Shae's body beside him, when his squire had woken him to say that a rider had arrived with dire news of Riverrun. So it had all been for nothing. The rush south, the endless forced marches, the bodies left beside the road... all for naught. Robb Stark had reached Riverrun days and days ago."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How could this happen?\" Ser Harys Swyft moaned. \"How? Even after the Whispering Wood, you had Riverrun ringed in iron, surrounded by a great host... what madness made Ser Jaime decide to split his men into three separate camps? Surely he knew how vulnerable that would leave them?\"\n\nBetter than you, you chinless craven, Tyrion thought. Jaime might have lost Riverrun, but it angered him to hear his brother slandered by the likes of Swyft, a shameless lickspittle whose greatest accomplishment was marrying his equally chinless daughter to Ser Kevan, and thereby attaching himself to the Lannisters.\n\n\"I would have done the same,\" his uncle responded, a good deal more calmly than Tyrion might have. \"You have never seen Riverrun, Ser Harys, or you would know that Jaime had little choice in the matter. The castle is situated at the end of the point of land where the Tumblestone flows into the Red Fork of the Trident. The rivers form two sides of a triangle, and when danger threatens, the Tullys open their sluice gates upstream to create a wide moat on the third side, turning Riverrun into an island. The walls rise sheer from the water, and from their towers the defenders have a commanding view of the opposite shores for many leagues around. To cutoff all the approaches, a besieger must needs place one camp north of the Tumblestone, one south of the Red Fork, and a third between the rivers, west of the moat. There is no other way, none.\"\n\n\"Ser Kevan speaks truly, my lords,\" the courier said. \"We'd built palisades of sharpened stakes around the camps, yet it was not enough, not with no warning and the rivers cutting us off from each other. They came down on the north camp first. No one was expecting an attack. Marq Piper had been raiding our supply trains, but he had no more than fifty men. Ser Jaime had gone out to deal with them the night before... well, with what we thought was them. We were told the Stark host was east of the Green Fork, marching south...\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And your outriders?\" Ser Gregor Clegane's face might have been hewn from rock. The fire in the hearth gave a somber orange cast to his skin and put deep shadows in the hollows of his eyes. \"They saw nothing? They gave you no warning?\"\n\nThe bloodstained messenger shook his head. \"Our outriders had been vanishing. Marq Piper's work, we thought. The ones who did comeback had seen nothing.\"\n\n\"A man who sees nothing has no use for his eyes,\" the Mountain declared. \"Cut them out and give them to your next outrider. Tell him you hope that four eyes might see better than two... and if not, the man after him will have six.\"\n\nLord Tywin Lannister turned his face to study Ser Gregor. Tyrion saw a glimmer of gold as the light shone off his father's pupils, but he could not have said whether the look was one of approval or disgust. Lord Tywin was oft quiet in council, preferring to listen before he spoke, a habit Tyrion himself tried to emulate. Yet this silence was uncharacteristic even for him, and his wine was untouched.\n\n\"You said they came at night,\" Ser Kevan prompted.\n\nThe man gave a weary nod. \"The Blackfish led the van, cutting down our sentries and clearing away the palisades for the main assault. By the time our men knew what was happening, riders were pouring over the ditch banks and galloping through the camp with swords and torches in hand. I was sleeping in the west camp, between the rivers. When we heard the fighting and saw the tents being fired, Lord Brax led us to the rafts and we tried to pole across, but the current pushed us downstream and the Tullys started flinging rocks at us with the catapults on their walls. I saw one raft smashed to kindling and three others overturned, men swept into the river and drowned... and those who did make it across found the Starks waiting for them on the riverbanks.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Flement Brax wore a silver-and-purple tabard and the look of a man who cannot comprehend what he has just heard. \"My lord father-\"\n\n\"Sorry, my lord,\" the messenger said. \"Lord Brax was clad in plate-and-mail when his raft overturned. He was very gallant.\"\n\nHe was a fool, Tyrion thought, swirling his cup and staring down into the winy depths. Crossing a river at night on a crude raft, wearing armor, with an enemy waiting on the other side-if that was gallantry, he would take cowardice every time. He wondered if Lord Brax had felt especially gallant as the weight of his steel pulled him under the black water.\n\n\"The camp between the rivers was overrun as well,\" the messenger was saying. \"While we were trying to cross, more Starks swept in from the west, two columns of armored horse. I saw Lord Umber's giant-in-chains and the Mallister eagle, but it was the boy who led them, with a monstrous wolf running at his side. I wasn't thereto see, but it's said the beast killed four men and ripped apart a dozen horses. Our spearmen formed up a shieldwall and held against their first charge, but when the Tullys saw them engaged, they opened the gates of Riverrun and Tytos Blackwood led a sortie across the drawbridge and took them in the rear.\"\n\n\"Gods save us,\" Lord Lefford swore.\n\n\"Greatjon Umber fired the siege towers we were building, and Lord Blackwood found Ser Edmure Tully in chains among the other captives, and made off with them all. Our south camp was under the command of Ser Forley Prester. He retreated in good order when he saw that the other camps were lost, with two thousand spears and as many bowmen, but the Tyroshi sellsword who led his freeriders struck his banners and went over to the foe.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Curse the man.\" His uncle Kevan sounded more angry than surprised. \"I warned Jaime not to trust that one. A man who fights for coin is loyal only to his purse.\"\n\nLord Tywin wove his fingers together under his chin. Only his eyes moved as he listened. His bristling golden sidewhiskers framed a face so still it might have been a mask, but Tyrion could see tiny beads of sweat dappling his father's shaven head.\n\n\"How could it happen?\" Ser Harys Swyft wailed again. \"Ser Jaime taken, the siege broken... this is a catastrophe!\"\n\nSer Addam Marbrand said, \"I am sure we are all grateful to you for pointing out the obvious, Ser Harys. The question is, what shall we do about it?\"\n\n\"What can we do? Jaime's host is all slaughtered or taken or put to flight, and the Starks and the Tullys sit squarely across our line of supply. We are cutoff from the west! They can march on Casterly Rock if they so choose, and what's to stop them? My lords, we are beaten. We must sue for peace.\"\n\n\"Peace?\" Tyrion swirled his wine thoughtfully, took a deep draft, and hurled his empty cup to the floor, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. \"There's your peace, Ser Harys. My sweet nephew broke it for good and all when he decided to ornament the Red Keep with Lord Eddard's head. You'll have an easier time drinking wine from that cup than you will convincing Robb Stark to make peace now. He's winning... or hadn't you noticed?\"\n\n\"Two battles do not make a war,\" Ser Addam insisted. \"We are far from lost. I should welcome the chance to try my own steel against this Stark boy.\""
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perhaps they would consent to a truce, and allow us to trade our prisoners for theirs,\" offered Lord Lefford.\n\n\"Unless they trade three-for-one, we still come out light on those scales,\" Tyrion said acidly. \"And what are we to offer for my brother? Lord Eddard's rotting head?\"\n\n\"I had heard that Queen Cersei has the Hand's daughters,\" Lefford said hopefully. \"If we give the lad his sisters back...\"\n\nSer Addam snorted disdainfully. \"He would have to bean utter ass to trade Jaime Lannister's life for two girls.\"\n\n\"Then we must ransom Ser Jaime, whatever it costs,\" Lord Lefford said.\n\nTyrion rolled his eyes. \"If the Starks feel the need for gold, they can meltdown Jaime's armor.\"\n\n\"If we ask fora truce, they will think us weak,\" Ser Addam argued. \"We should march on them at once.\"\n\n\"Surely our friends at court could be prevailed upon to join us with fresh troops,\" said Ser Harys. \"And someone might return to Casterly Rock to raise anew host.\"\n\nLord Tywin Lannister rose to his feet. \"They have my son,\" he said once more, in a voice that cut through the babble like a sword through suet. \"Leave me. All of you.\"\n\nEver the soul of obedience, Tyrion rose to depart with the rest, but his father gave him a look. \"Not you, Tyrion. Remain. And you as well, Kevan. The rest of you, out.\"\n\nTyrion eased himself back onto the bench, startled into speechlessness. Ser Kevan crossed the room to the wine casks. \"Uncle,\" Tyrion called, \"if you would be so kind-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Here.\" His father offered him his cup, the wine untouched.\n\nNow Tyrion truly was nonplussed. He drank.\n\nLord Tywin seated himself. \"You have the right of it about Stark. Alive, we might have used Lord Eddard to forge a peace with Winterfell and Riverrun, a peace that would have given us the time we need to deal with Robert's brothers. Dead...\" His hand curled into a fist. \"Madness. Rank madness.\"\n\n\"Joff's only a boy,\" Tyrion pointed out. \"At his age, I committed a few follies of my own.\"\n\nHis father gave him a sharp look. \"I suppose we ought to be grateful that he has not yet married a whore.\"\n\nTyrion sipped at his wine, wondering how Lord Tywin would look if he flung the cup in his face.\n\n\"Our position is worse than you know,\" his father went on. \"It would seem we have anew king.\"\n\nSer Kevan looked poleaxed. \"Anew-who? What have they done to Joffrey?\"\n\nThe faintest flicker of distaste played across Lord Tywin's thin lips. \"Nothing... yet. My grandson still sits the Iron Throne, but the eunuch has heard whispers from the south. Renly Baratheon wed Margaery Tyrell at Highgarden this fortnight past, and now he has claimed the crown. The bride's father and brothers have bent the knee and sworn him their swords.\"\n\n\"Those are grave tidings.\" When Ser Kevan frowned, the furrows in his brow grew deep as canyons.\n\n\"My daughter commands us to ride for King's Landing at once, to defend the Red Keep against King Renly and the Knight of Flowers.\" His mouth tightened. \"Commands us, mind you. In the name of the king and council.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How is King Joffrey taking the news?\" Tyrion asked with a certain black amusement.\n\n\"Cersei has not seen fit to tell him yet,\" Lord Tywin said. \"She fears he might insist on marching against Renly himself.\"\n\n\"With what army?\" Tyrion asked. \"You don't plan to give him this one, I hope?\"\n\n\"He talks of leading the City Watch,\" Lord Tywin said.\n\n\"If he takes the Watch, he'll leave the city undefended,\" Ser Kevan said. \"And with Lord Stannis on Dragonstone...\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Lord Tywin looked down at his son. \"I had thought you were the one made for motley, Tyrion, but it would appear that I was wrong.\"\n\n\"Why, Father,\" said Tyrion, \"that almost sounds like praise.\" He leaned forward intently. \"What of Stannis? He's the elder, not Renly. How does he feel about his brother's claim?\"\n\nHis father frowned. \"I have felt from the beginning that Stannis was a greater danger than all the others combined. Yet he does nothing. Oh, Varys hears his whispers. Stannis is building ships, Stannis is hiring sellswords, Stannis is bringing a shadowbinder from Asshai. What does it mean? Is any of it true?\" He gave an irritated shrug. \"Kevan, bring us the map.\"\n\nSer Kevan did as he was bid. Lord Tywin unrolled the leather, smoothing it flat. \"Jaime has left us in a bad way. Roose Bolton and the remnants of his host are north of us. Our enemies hold the Twins and Moat Cailin. Robb Stark sits to the west, so we cannot retreat to Lannisport and the Rock unless we choose to give battle. Jaime is taken, and his army for all purposes has ceased to exist. Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion continue to plague our foraging parties. To our east we have the Arryns, Stannis Baratheon sits on Dragonstone, and in the south Highgarden and Storm's End are calling their banners.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion smiled crookedly. \"Take heart, Father. At least Rhaegar Targaryen is still dead.\"\n\n\"I had hoped you might have more to offer us than japes, Tyrion,\" Lord Tywin Lannister said.\n\nSer Kevan frowned over the map, forehead creasing. \"Robb Stark will have Edmure Tully and the lords of the Trident with him now. Their combined power may exceed our own. And with Roose Bolton behind us... Tywin, if we remain here, I fear we might be caught between three armies.\"\n\n\"I have no intention of remaining here. We must finish our business with young Lord Stark before Renly Baratheon can march from Highgarden. Bolton does not concern me. He is a wary man, and we made him warier on the Green Fork. He will be slow to give pursuit. So... on the morrow, we make for Harrenhal. Kevan, I want Ser Addam's outriders to screen our movements. Give him as many men as he requires, and send them out in groups of four. I will have no vanishings.\"\n\n\"As you say, my lord, but... why Harrenhal? That is a grim, unlucky place. Some call it cursed.\"\n\n\"Let them,\" Lord Tywin said. \"Unleash Ser Gregor and send him before us with his reavers. Send forth Vargo Hoat and his freeriders as well, and Ser Amory Lorch. Each is to have three hundred horse. Tell them I want to seethe riverlands afire from the Gods Eye to the Red Fork.\"\n\n\"They will burn, my lord,\" Ser Kevan said, rising. \"I shall give the commands.\" He bowed and made for the door."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When they were alone, Lord Tywin glanced at Tyrion. \"Your savages might relish a bit of rapine. Tell them they may ride with Vargo Hoat and plunder as they like-goods, stock, women, they may take what they want and burn the rest.\"\n\n\"Telling Shagga and Timett how to pillage is like telling a rooster how to crow,\" Tyrion commented, \"but I should prefer to keep them with me.\" Uncouth and unruly they might be, yet the wildlings were his, and he trusted them more than any of his father's men. He was not about to hand them over.\n\n\"Then you had best learn to control them. I will not have the city plundered.\"\n\n\"The city?\" Tyrion was lost. \"What city would that be?\"\n\n\"King's Landing. I am sending you to court.\"\n\nIt was the last thing Tyrion Lannister would ever have anticipated. He reached for his wine, and considered fora moment as he sipped. \"And what am Ito do there?\"\n\n\"Rule,\" his father said curtly.\n\nTyrion hooted with laughter. \"My sweet sister might have a word or two to say about that!\"\n\n\"Let her say what she likes. Her son needs to betaken in hand before he ruins us all. I blame those jackanapes on the council-our friend Petyr, the venerable Grand Maester, and that cockless wonder Lord Varys. What sort of counsel are they giving Joffrey when he lurches from one folly to the next? Whose notion was it to make this Janos Slynt a lord? The man's father was a butcher, and they grant him Harrenhal. Harrenhal, that was the seat of kings! Not that he will ever set foot inside it, if I have a say. I am told he took a bloody spear for his sigil. A bloody cleaver would have been my choice.\" His father had not raised his voice, yet Tyrion could seethe anger in the gold of his eyes. \"And dismissing Selmy, where was the sense in that? Yes, the man was old, but the name of Barristan the Bold still has meaning in the realm. He lent honor to any man he served. Can anyone say the same of the Hound? You feed your dog bones under the table, you do not seat him beside you on the high bench.\" He pointed a finger at Tyrion's face. \"If Cersei cannot curb the boy, you must. And if these councillors are playing us false...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tyrion knew."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Spikes,\" he sighed. \"Heads. Walls.\"\n\n\"I see you have taken a few lessons from me.\"\n\n\"More than you know, Father,\" Tyrion answered quietly. He finished his wine and set the cup aside, thoughtful. Apart of him was more pleased than he cared to admit. Another part was remembering the battle upriver, and wondering if he was being sent to hold the left again. \"Why me?\" he asked, cocking his head to one side. \"Why not my uncle? Why not Ser Addam or Ser Flement or Lord Serrett? Why not a... bigger man?\"\n\nLord Tywin rose abruptly. \"You are my son.\"\n\nThat was when he knew. You have given him up for lost, he thought. You bloody bastard, you think Jaime's good as dead, so I'm all you have left. Tyrion wanted to slap him, to spit in his face, to draw his dagger and cut the heart out of him and see if it was made of old hard gold, the way the smallfolks said. Yet he sat there, silent and still.\n\nThe shards of the broken cup crunched beneath his father's heels as Lord Tywin crossed the room. \"One last thing,\" he said at the door. \"You will not take the whore to court.\"\n\nTyrion sat alone in the common room fora long while after his father was gone. Finally he climbed the steps to his cozy garret beneath the bell tower. The ceiling was low, but that was scarcely a drawback fora dwarf. From the window, he could seethe gibbet his father had erected in the yard. The innkeep's body turned slowly on its rope whenever the night wind gusted. Her flesh had grown as thin and ragged as Lannister hopes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Shae murmured sleepily and rolled toward him when he sat on the edge of the featherbed. He slid his hand under the blanket and cupped a soft breast, and her eyes opened. \"M'lord,\" she said with a drowsy smile.\n\nWhen he felt her nipple stiffen, Tyrion kissed her. \"I have a mind to take you to King's Landing, sweetling,\" he whispered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The mare whickered softly as Jon Snow tightened the cinch. \"Easy, sweet lady,\" he said in a soft voice, quieting her with a touch. Wind whispered through the stable, a cold dead breath on his face, but Jon paid it no mind. He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. \"Ghost,\" he called softly, \"tome.\" And the wolf was there, eyes like embers.\n\n\"Jon, please. You must not do this.\"\n\nHe mounted, the reins in his hand, and wheeled the horse around to face the night. Samwell Tarly stood in the stable door, a full moon peering over his shoulder. He threw a giant's shadow, immense and black. \"Get out of my way, Sam.\"\n\n\"Jon, you can't,\" Sam said. \"I won't let you.\"\n\n\"I would sooner not hurt you,\" Jon told him. \"Move aside, Sam, or I'll ride you down.\"\n\n\"You won't. You have to listen tome. Please...\"\n\nJon put his spurs to horseflesh, and the mare bolted for the door. For an instant Sam stood his ground, his face as round and pale as the moon behind him, his mouth a widening O of surprise. At the last moment, when they were almost on him, he jumped aside as Jon had known he would, stumbled, and fell. The mare leapt over him, out into the night.\n\nJon raised the hood of his heavy cloak and gave the horse her head. Castle Black was silent and still as he rode out, with Ghost racing at his side. Men watched from the Wall behind him, he knew, but their eyes were turned north, not south. No one would see him go, no one but Sam Tarly, struggling back to his feet in the dust of the old stables. He hoped Sam hadn't hurt himself, falling like that. He was so heavy and so ungainly, it would be just like him to break a wrist or twist his ankle getting out of the way. \"I warned him,\" Jon said aloud. \"It was nothing to do with him, anyway.\" He flexed his burned hand as he rode, opening and closing the scarred fingers. They still pained him, but it felt good to have the wrappings off."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Moonlight silvered the hills as he followed the twisting ribbon of the kingsroad. He needed to get as far from the Wall as he could before they realized he was gone. On the morrow he would leave the road and strikeout overland through field and bush and stream to throw off pursuit, but for the moment speed was more important than deception. It was not as though they would not guess where he was going.\n\nThe Old Bear was accustomed to rise at first light, so Jon had until dawn to put as many leagues as he could between him and the Wall... if Sam Tarly did not betray him. The fat boy was dutiful and easily frightened, but he loved Jon like a brother. If questioned, Sam would doubtless tell them the truth, but Jon could not imagine him braving the guards in front of the King's Tower to wake Mormont from sleep.\n\nWhen Jon did not appear to fetch the Old Bear's breakfast from the kitchen, they'd look in his cell and find Longclaw on the bed. It had been hard to abandon it, but Jon was not so lost to honor as to take it with him. Even Jorah Mormont had not done that, when he fled in disgrace. Doubtless Lord Mormont would find someone more worthy of the blade. Jon felt bad when he thought of the old man. He knew his desertion would be salt in the still-raw wound of his son's disgrace. That seemed a poor way to repay him for his trust, but it couldn't be helped. No matter what he did, Jon felt as though he were betraying someone.\n\nEven now, he did not know if he was doing the honorable thing. The southron had it easier. They had their septons to talk to, someone to tell them the gods' will and help sort outright from wrong. But the Starks worshiped the old gods, the nameless gods, and if the heart trees heard, they did not speak."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When the last lights of Castle Black vanished behind him, Jon slowed his mare to a walk. He had along journey ahead and only the one horse to see him through. There were holdfasts and farming villages along the road south where he might be able to trade the mare fora fresh mount when he needed one, but not if she were injured or blown.\n\nHe would need to find new clothes soon; most like, he'd need to steal them. He was clad in black from head to heel; high leather riding boots, roughspun breeches and tunic, sleeveless leather jerkin, and heavy wool cloak. His longsword and dagger were sheathed in black moleskin, and the hauberk and coif in his saddlebag were black ringmail. Any bit of it could mean his death if he were taken. A stranger wearing black was viewed with cold suspicion in every village and holdfast north of the Neck, and men would soon be watching for him. Once Maester Aemon's ravens took flight, Jon knew he would find no safe haven. Not even at Winterfell. Bran might want to let him in, but Maester Luwin had better sense. He would bar the gates and send Jon away, as he should. Better not to call thereat all.\n\nYet he saw the castle clear in his mind's eye, as if he had left it only yesterday; the towering granite walls, the Great Hall with its smells of smoke and dog and roasting meat, his father's solar, the turret room where he had slept. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to hear Bran laugh again, to sup on one of Gage's beef-and-bacon pies, to listen to Old Nan tell her tales of the children of the forest and Florian the Fool.\n\nBut he had not left the Wall for that; he had left because he was after all his father's son, and Robb's brother. The gift of a sword, even a sword as fine as Longclaw, did not make him a Mormont. Nor was he Aemon Targaryen. Three times the old man had chosen, and three times he had chosen honor, but that was him. Even now, Jon could not decide whether the maester had stayed because he was weak and craven, or because he was strong and true. Yet he understood what the old man had meant, about the pain of choosing; he understood that all too well."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion Lannister had claimed that most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, but Jon was done with denials. He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. For the rest of his life-however long that might be-he would be condemned to bean outsider, the silent man standing in the shadows who dares not speak his true name. Wherever he might go throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he would need to live a lie, lest every man's hand be raised against him. But it made no matter, so long as he lived long enough to take his place by his brother's side and help avenge his father.\n\nHe remembered Robb as he had last seen him, standing in the yard with snow melting in his auburn hair. Jon would have to come to him in secret, disguised. He tried to imagine the look on Robb's face when he revealed himself. His brother would shake his head and smile, and he'd say... he'd say...\n\nHe could not seethe smile. Hard as he tried, he could not see it. He found himself thinking of the deserter his father had beheaded the day they'd found the direwolves. \"You said the words,\" Lord Eddard had told him. \"You took avow, before your brothers, before the old gods and the new.\" Desmond and Fat Tom had dragged the man to the stump. Bran's eyes had been wide as saucers, and Jon had to remind him to keep his pony in hand. He remembered the look on Father's face when Theon Greyjoy brought forth Ice, the spray of blood on the snow, the way Theon had kicked the head when it came rolling at his feet.\n\nHe wondered what Lord Eddard might have done if the deserter had been his brother Benjen instead of that ragged stranger. Would it have been any different? It must, surely, surely... and Robb would welcome him, fora certainty. He had to, or else..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It did not bear thinking about."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pain throbbed, deep in his fingers, as he clutched the reins. Jon put his heels into his horse and broke into a gallop, racing down the kingsroad, as if to outrun his doubts. Jon was not afraid of death, but he did not want to die like that, trussed and bound and beheaded like a common brigand. If he must perish, let it be with a sword in his hand, fighting his father's killers. He was no true Stark, had never been one... but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three.\n\nGhost kept pace with them for almost half a mile, red tongue lolling from his mouth. Man and horse alike lowered their heads as he asked the mare for more speed. The wolf slowed, stopped, watching, his eyes glowing red in the moonlight. He vanished behind, but Jon knew he would follow, at his own pace.\n\nScattered lights flickered through the trees ahead of him, on both sides of the road: Mole's Town. A dog barked as he rode through, and he heard a mule's raucous haw from the stable, but otherwise the village was still. Here and there the glow of hearth fires shone through shuttered windows, leaking between wooden slats, but only a few.\n\nMole's Town was bigger than it seemed, but three quarters of it was under the ground, in deep warm cellars connected by amaze of tunnels. Even the whorehouse was down there, nothing on the surface but a wooden shack no bigger than a privy, with a red lantern hungover the door. On the Wall, he'd heard men call the whores'buried treasures.\" He wondered whether any of his brothers in black were down there tonight, mining. That was oathbreaking too, yet no one seemed to care."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not until he was well beyond the village did Jon slow again. By then both he and the mare were damp with sweat. He dismounted, shivering, his burned hand aching. A bank of melting snow lay under the trees, bright in the moonlight, water trickling off to form small shallow pools. Jon squatted and brought his hands together, cupping the runoff between his fingers. The snowmelt was icy cold. He drank, and splashed some on his face, until his cheeks tingled. His fingers were throbbing worse than they had in days, and his head was pounding too. I am doing the right thing, he told himself, so why do I feel so bad?\n\nThe horse was well lathered, so Jon took the lead and walked her fora while. The road was scarcely wide enough for two riders to pass abreast, its surface cut by tiny streams and littered with stone. That run had been truly stupid, an invitation to a broken neck. Jon wondered what had gotten into him. Was he in such a great rush to die?\n\nOff in the trees, the distant scream of some frightened animal made him lookup. His mare whinnied nervously. Had his wolf found some prey? He cupped his hands around his mouth. \"Ghost!\" he shouted. \"Ghost, tome.\" The only answer was a rush of wings behind him as an owl took flight.\n\nFrowning, Jon continued on his way. He led the mare for half an hour, until she was dry. Ghost did not appear. Jon wanted to mount up and ride again, but he was concerned about his missing wolf. \"Ghost,\" he called again. \"Where are you? Tome! Ghost!\" Nothing in these woods could trouble a direwolf, even a half-grown direwolf, unless... no, Ghost was too smart to attack a bear, and if there was a wolf pack anywhere close Jon would have surely heard them howling."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He should eat, he decided. Food would settle his stomach and give Ghost the chance to catch up. There was no danger yet; Castle Black still slept. In his saddlebag, he found a biscuit, apiece of cheese, and a small withered brown apple. He'd brought salt beef as well, and a rasher of bacon he'd filched from the kitchens, but he would save the meat for the morrow. After it was gone he'd need to hunt, and that would slow him.\n\nJon sat under the trees and ate his biscuit and cheese while his mare grazed along the kingsroad. He kept the apple for last. It had gone a little soft, but the flesh was still tart and juicy. He was down to the core when he heard the sounds: horses, and from the north. Quickly Jon leapt up and strode to his mare. Could he outrun them? No, they were too close, they'd hear him fora certainty, and if they were from Castle Black...\n\nHe led the mare off the road, behind a thick stand of grey-green sentinels. \"Quiet now,\" he said in a hushed voice, crouching down to peer through the branches. If the gods were kind, the riders would pass by. Likely as not, they were only smallfolk from Mole's Town, farmers on their way to their fields, although what they were doing out in the middle of the night...\n\nHe listened to the sound of hooves growing steadily louder as they trotted briskly down the kingsroad. From the sound, there were five or six of them at the least. Their voices drifted through the trees.\n\n\"... certain he came this way?\"\n\n\"We can't be certain.\"\n\n\"He could have ridden east, for all you know. Or left the road to cut through the woods. That's what I'd do.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"In the dark? Stupid. If you didn't falloff your horse and break your neck, you'd get lost and windup back at the Wall when the sun came up.\"\n\n\"I would not.\" Grenn sounded peeved. \"I'd just ride south, you can tell south by the stars.\"\n\n\"What if the sky was cloudy?\" Pyp asked.\n\n\"Then I wouldn't go.\"\n\nAnother voice broke in. \"You know where I'd be if it was me? I'd be in Mole's Town, digging for buried treasure.\" Toad's shrill laughter boomed through the trees. Jon's mare snorted.\n\n\"Keep quiet, all of you,\" Halder said. \"I thought I heard something.\"\n\n\"Where? I didn't hear anything.\" The horses stopped.\n\n\"You can't hear yourself fart.\"\n\n\"I can too,\" Grenn insisted.\n\n\"Quiet!\"\n\nThey all fell silent, listening. Jon found himself holding his breath. Sam, he thought. He hadn't gone to the Old Bear, but he hadn't gone to bed either, he'd woken the other boys. Damn them all. Come dawn, if they were not in their beds, they'd be named deserters too. What did they think they were doing?\n\nThe hushed silence seemed to stretch on and on. From where Jon crouched, he could seethe legs of their horses through the branches. Finally Pyp spoke up. \"What did you hear?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Halder admitted. \"A sound, I thought it might have been a horse but...\"\n\n\"There's nothing here.\"\n\nOut of the corner of his eye, Jon glimpsed a pale shape moving through the trees. Leaves rustled, and Ghost came bounding out of the shadows, so suddenly that Jon's mare started and gave a whinny. \"There!\" Halder shouted."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue the tale as the writer's plot helper.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Game of Thrones\nChapter: 73"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"In the dark? Stupid. If you didn't falloff your horse and break your neck, you'd get lost and windup back at the Wall when the sun came up.\"\n\n\"I would not.\" Grenn sounded peeved. \"I'd just ride south, you can tell south by the stars.\"\n\n\"What if the sky was cloudy?\" Pyp asked.\n\n\"Then I wouldn't go.\"\n\nAnother voice broke in. \"You know where I'd be if it was me? I'd be in Mole's Town, digging for buried treasure.\" Toad's shrill laughter boomed through the trees. Jon's mare snorted.\n\n\"Keep quiet, all of you,\" Halder said. \"I thought I heard something.\"\n\n\"Where? I didn't hear anything.\" The horses stopped.\n\n\"You can't hear yourself fart.\"\n\n\"I can too,\" Grenn insisted.\n\n\"Quiet!\"\n\nThey all fell silent, listening. Jon found himself holding his breath. Sam, he thought. He hadn't gone to the Old Bear, but he hadn't gone to bed either, he'd woken the other boys. Damn them all. Come dawn, if they were not in their beds, they'd be named deserters too. What did they think they were doing?\n\nThe hushed silence seemed to stretch on and on. From where Jon crouched, he could seethe legs of their horses through the branches. Finally Pyp spoke up. \"What did you hear?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Halder admitted. \"A sound, I thought it might have been a horse but...\"\n\n\"There's nothing here.\"\n\nOut of the corner of his eye, Jon glimpsed a pale shape moving through the trees. Leaves rustled, and Ghost came bounding out of the shadows, so suddenly that Jon's mare started and gave a whinny. \"There!\" Halder shouted."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I heard it too!\"\n\n\"Traitor,\" Jon told the direwolf as he swung up into the saddle. He turned the mare's head to slide off through the trees, but they were on him before he had gone ten feet.\n\n\"Jon!\" Pyp shouted after him.\n\n\"Pull up,\" Grenn said. \"You can't outrun us all.\"\n\nJon wheeled around to face them, drawing his sword. \"Get back. I don't wish to hurt you, but I will if I have to.\"\n\n\"One against seven?\" Halder gave a signal. The boys spread out, surrounding him.\n\n\"What do you want with me?\" Jon demanded.\n\n\"We want to take you back where you belong,\" Pyp said.\n\n\"I belong with my brother.\"\n\n\"We're your brothers now,\" Grenn said.\n\n\"They'll cutoff your head if they catch you, you know,\" Toad put in with a nervous laugh. \"This is so stupid, it's like something the Aurochs would do.\"\n\n\"I would not,\" Grenn said. \"I'm no oathbreaker. I said the words and I meant them.\"\n\n\"So did I,\" Jon told them. \"Don't you understand? They murdered my father. It's war, my brother Robb is fighting in the riverlands-\"\n\n\"We know,\" said Pyp solemnly. \"Sam told us everything.\"\n\n\"We're sorry about your father,\" Grenn said, \"but it doesn't matter. Once you say the words, you can't leave, no matter what.\"\n\n\"I have to,\" Jon said fervently.\n\n\"You said the words,\" Pyp reminded him. \"Now my watch begins, you said it. It shall not end until my death.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I shall live and die at my post,\" Grenn added, nodding.\n\n\"You don't have to tell me the words, I know them as well as you do.\" He was angry now. Why couldn't they let him go in peace? They were only making it harder.\n\n\"I am the sword in the darkness,\" Halder intoned.\n\n\"The watcher on the walls,\" piped Toad.\n\nJon cursed them all to their faces. They took no notice. Pyp spurred his horse closer, reciting, \"I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.\"\n\n\"Stay back,\" Jon warned him, brandishing his sword. \"I mean it, Pyp.\" They weren't even wearing armor, he could cut them to pieces if he had to.\n\nMatthar had circled behind him. He joined the chorus. \"I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch.\"\n\nJon kicked his mare, spinning her in a circle. The boys were all around him now, closing from every side.\n\n\"For this night...,\" Halder trotted in from the left.\n\n\"... and all the nights to come,\" finished Pyp. He reached over for Jon's reins. \"So here are your choices. Kill me, or comeback with me.\"\n\nJon lifted his sword... and lowered it, helpless. \"Damn you,\" he said. \"Damn you all.\"\n\n\"Do we have to bind your hands, or will you give us your word you'll ride back peaceful?\" asked Halder.\n\n\"I won't run, if that's what you mean.\" Ghost moved out from under the trees and Jon glared at him. \"Small help you were,\" he said. The deep red eyes looked at him knowingly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We had best hurry,\" Pyp said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If we're not back before first light, the Old Bear will have all our heads.\"\n\nOf the ride back, Jon Snow remembered little. It seemed shorter than the journey south, perhaps because his mind was elsewhere. Pyp set the pace, galloping, walking, trotting, and then breaking into another gallop. Mole's Town came and went, the red lantern over the brothel long extinguished. They made good time. Dawn was still an hour off when Jon glimpsed the towers of Castle Black ahead of them, dark against the pale immensity of the Wall. It did not seem like home this time.\n\nThey could take him back, Jon told himself, but they could not make him stay. The war would not end on the morrow, or the day after, and his friends could not watch him day and night. He would bide his time, make them think he was content to remain here... and then, when they had grown lax, he would be off again. Next time he would avoid the kingsroad. He could follow the Wall east, perhaps all the way to the sea, a longer route but a safer one. Or even west, to the mountains, and then south over the high passes. That was the wildling's way, hard and perilous, but at least no one would follow him. He wouldn't stray within a hundred leagues of Winterfell or the kingsroad.\n\nSamwell Tarly awaited them in the old stables, slumped on the ground against a bale of hay, too anxious to sleep. He rose and brushed himself off. \"I... I'm glad they found you, Jon.\"\n\n\"I'm not,\" Jon said, dismounting.\n\nPyp hopped off his horse and looked at the lightening sky with disgust. \"Give us a hand bedding down the horses, Sam,\" the small boy said. \"We have along day before us, and no sleep to face it on, thanks to Lord Snow.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When day broke, Jon walked to the kitchens as he did every dawn. Three-Finger Hobb said nothing as he gave him the Old Bear's breakfast. Today it was three brown eggs boiled hard, with fried bread and ham steak and a bowl of wrinkled plums. Jon carried the food back to the King's Tower. He found Mormont at the window seat, writing. His raven was walking back and forth across his shoulders, muttering, \"Corn, corn, corn.\" The bird shrieked when Jon entered. \"Put the food on the table,\" the Old Bear said, glancing up. \"I'll have some beer.\"\n\nJon opened a shuttered window, took the flagon of beer off the outside ledge, and filled a horn. Hobb had given him a lemon, still cold from the Wall. Jon crushed it in his fist. The juice trickled through his fingers. Mormont drank lemon in his beer everyday, and claimed that was why he still had his own teeth.\n\n\"Doubtless you loved your father,\" Mormont said when Jon brought him his horn. \"The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember when I told you that?\"\n\n\"I remember,\" Jon said sullenly. He did not care to talk of his father's death, not even to Mormont.\n\n\"See that you never forget it. The hard truths are the ones to hold tight. Fetch me my plate. Is it ham again? So be it. You look weary. Was your moonlight ride so tiring?\"\n\nJon's throat was dry. \"You know?\"\n\n\"Know,\" the raven echoed from Mormont's shoulder. \"Know.\"\n\nThe Old Bear snorted. \"Do you think they chose me Lord Commander of the Night's Watch because I'm dumb as a stump, Snow? Aemon told me you'd go. I told him you'd be back. I know my men... and my boys too. Honor set you on the kingsroad... and honor brought you back.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My friends brought me back,\" Jon said.\n\n\"Did I say it was your honor?\" Mormont inspected his plate.\n\n\"They killed my father. Did you expect me to do nothing?\"\n\n\"If truth be told, we expected you to do just as you did.\" Mormont tried a plum, spit out the pit. \"I ordered a watch kept over you. You were seen leaving. If your brothers had not fetched you back, you would have been taken along the way, and not by friends. Unless you have a horse with wings like a raven. Do you?\"\n\n\"No.\" Jon felt like a fool.\n\n\"Pity, we could use a horse like that.\"\n\nJon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well; that much he could do, at the least. \"I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. I'm not afraid to die.\"\n\n\"Die!\" the raven cried.\n\n\"Nor live, I hope,\" Mormont said, cutting his ham with a dagger and feeding a bite to the bird. \"You have not deserted-yet. Here you stand. If we beheaded every boy who rode to Mole's Town in the night, only ghosts would guard the Wall. Yet maybe you mean to flee again on the morrow, or a fortnight from now. Is that it? Is that your hope, boy?\"\n\nJon kept silent.\n\n\"I thought so.\" Mormont peeled the shell off a boiled egg. \"Your father is dead, lad. Do you think you can bring him back?\"\n\n\"No,\" he answered, sullen.\n\n\"Good,\" Mormont said. \"We've seen the dead comeback, you and me, and it's not something I care to see again.\" He ate the egg in two bites and flicked a bit of shell out from between his teeth. \"Your brother is in the field with all the power of the north behind him. Anyone of his lords bannermen commands more swords than you'll find in all the Night's Watch. Why do you imagine that they need your help? Are you such a mighty warrior, or do you carry a grumkin in your pocket to magic up your sword?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon had no answer for him. The raven was pecking at an egg, breaking the shell. Pushing his beak through the hole, he pulled out morsels of white and yoke.\n\nThe Old Bear sighed. \"You are not the only one touched by this war. Like as not, my sister is marching in your brother's host, her and those daughters of hers, dressed in men's mail. Maege is a hoary old snark, stubborn, short-tempered, and willful. Truth be told, I can hardly stand to be around the wretched woman, but that does not mean my love for her is any less than the love you bear your half sisters.\" Frowning, Mormont took his last egg and squeezed it in his fist until the shell crunched. \"Or perhaps it does. Be that as it may, I'd still grieve if she were slain, yet you don't see me running off. I said the words, just as you did. My place is here... where is yours, boy?\"\n\nI have no place, Jon wanted to say, I'm a bastard, I have no rights, no name, no mother, and now not even a father. The words would not come. \"I don't know.\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Lord Commander Mormont. \"The cold winds are rising, Snow. Beyond the Wall, the shadows lengthen. Cotter Pyke writes of vast herds of elk, streaming south and east toward the sea, and mammoths as well. He says one of his men discovered huge, misshapen footprints not three leagues from Eastwatch. Rangers from the Shadow Tower have found whole villages abandoned, and at night Ser Denys says they see fires in the mountains, huge blazes that burn from dusk till dawn. Quorin Halfhand took a captive in the depths of the Gorge, and the man swears that Mance Rayder is massing all his people in some new, secret stronghold he's found, to what end the gods only know. Do you think your uncle Benjen was the only ranger we've lost this past year?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Ben Jen,\" the raven squawked, bobbing its head, bits of egg dribbling from its beak."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ben Jen. Ben Jen.\"\n\n\"No,\" Jon said. There had been others. Too many.\n\n\"Do you think your brother's war is more important than ours?\" the old man barked.\n\nJon chewed his lip. The raven flapped its wings at him. \"War, war, war, war,\" it sang.\n\n\"It's not,\" Mormont told him. \"Gods save us, boy, you're not blind and you're not stupid. When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?\"\n\n\"No.\" Jon had not thought of it that way.\n\n\"Your lord father sent you to us, Jon. Why, who can say?\"\n\n\"Why? Why? Why?\" the raven called.\n\n\"All I know is that the blood of the First Men flows in the veins of the Starks. The First Men built the Wall, and it's said they remember things otherwise forgotten. And that beast of yours... he led us to the wights, warned you of the dead man on the steps. Ser Jaremy would doubtless call that happenstance, yet Ser Jaremy is dead and I'm not.\" Lord Mormont stabbed a chunk of ham with the point of his dagger. \"I think you were meant to be here, and I want you and that wolf of yours with us when we go beyond the Wall.\"\n\nHis words sent a chill of excitement down Jon's back. \"Beyond the Wall?\"\n\n\"You heard me. I mean to find Ben Stark, alive or dead.\" He chewed and swallowed. \"I will not sit here meekly and wait for the snows and the ice winds. We must know what is happening. This time the Night's Watch will ride in force, against the King-beyond-the-Wall, the Others, and anything else that maybe out there. I mean to command them myself.\" He pointed his dagger at Jon's chest. \"By custom, the Lord Commander's steward is his squire as well... but I do not care to wake every dawn wondering if you've runoff again. So I will have an answer from you, Lord Snow, and I will have it now. Are you a brother of the Night's Watch... or only a bastard boy who wants to play at war?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon Snow straightened himself and took along deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran... forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. \"I am... yours, my lord. Your man. I swear it. I will not run again.\"\n\nThe Old Bear snorted. \"Good. Now go put on your sword.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It seemed a thousand years ago that Catelyn Stark had carried her infant son out of Riverrun, crossing the Tumblestone in a small boat to begin their journey north to Winterfell. And it was across the Tumblestone that they came home now, though the boy wore plate and mail in place of swaddling clothes.\n\nRobb satin the bow with Grey Wind, his hand resting on his direwolf's head as the rowers pulled at their oars. Theon Greyjoy was with him. Her uncle Brynden would come behind in the second boat, with the Greatjon and Lord Karstark.\n\nCatelyn took a place toward the stern. They shot down the Tumblestone, letting the strong current push them past the looming Wheel Tower. The splash and rumble of the great waterwheel within was a sound from her girlhood that brought a sad smile to Catelyn's face. From the sandstone walls of the castle, soldiers and servants shouted down her name, and Robb's, and'Winterfell!\" From every rampart waved the banner of House Tully: a leaping trout, silver, against a rippling blue-and-red field. It was a stirring sight, yet it did not lift her heart. She wondered if indeed her heart would ever lift again. Oh, Ned...\n\nBelow the Wheel Tower, they made a wide turn and knifed through the churning water. The men put their backs into it. The wide arch of the Water Gate came into view, and she heard the creak of heavy chains as the great iron portcullis was winched upward. It rose slowly as they approached, and Catelyn saw that the lower half of it was red with rust. The bottom foot dripped brown mud on them as they passed underneath, the barbed spikes mere inches above their heads. Catelyn gazed up at the bars and wondered how deep the rust went and how well the portcullis would stand up to a ram and whether it ought to be replaced. Thoughts like that were seldom far from her mind these days."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They passed beneath the arch and under the walls, moving from sunlight to shadow and back into sunlight."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Boats large and small were tied up all around them, secured to iron rings set in the stone. Her father's guards waited on the water stair with her brother. Ser Edmure Tully was a stocky young man with a shaggy head of auburn hair and a fiery beard. His breastplate was scratched and dented from battle, his blue-and-red cloak stained by blood and smoke. At his side stood the Lord Tytos Blackwood, a hard pike of a man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper whiskers and a hook nose. His bright yellow armor was inlaid with jet in elaborate vine-and-leaf patterns, and a cloak sewn from raven feathers draped his thin shoulders. It had been Lord Tytos who led the sortie that plucked her brother from the Lannister camp.\n\n\"Bring them in,\" Ser Edmure commanded. Three men scrambled down the stairs knee-deep in the water and pulled the boat close with long hooks. When Grey Wind bounded out, one of them dropped his pole and lurched back, stumbling and sitting down abruptly in the river. The others laughed, and the man got a sheepish look on his face. Theon Greyjoy vaulted over the side of the boat and lifted Catelyn by the waist, setting heron a dry step above him as water lapped around his boots.\n\nEdmure came down the steps to embrace her. \"Sweet sister,\" he murmured hoarsely. He had deep blue eyes and a mouth made for smiles, but he was not smiling now. He looked worn and tired, battered by battle and haggard from strain. His neck was bandaged where he had taken a wound. Catelyn hugged him fiercely.\n\n\"Your grief is mine, Cat,\" he said when they broke apart. \"When we heard about Lord Eddard... the Lannisters will pay, I swear it, you will have your vengeance.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Will that bring Ned back tome?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "she said sharply. The wound was still too fresh for softer words. She could not think about Ned now. She would not. It would not do. She had to be strong. \"All that will keep. I must see Father.\"\n\n\"He awaits you in his solar,\" Edmure said.\n\n\"Lord Hoster is bedridden, my lady,\" her father's steward explained. When had that good man grown so old and grey? \"He instructed me to bring you to him at once.\"\n\n\"I'll take her.\" Edmure escorted her up the water stair and across the lower bailey, where Petyr Baelish and Brandon Stark had once crossed swords for her favor. The massive sandstone walls of the keep loomed above them. As they pushed through a door between two guardsmen in fish-crest helms, she asked, \"How bad is he?\" dreading the answer even as she said the words.\n\nEdmure's look was somber. \"He will not be with us long, the maesters say. The pain is... constant, and grievous.\"\n\nA blind rage filled her, a rage at all the world; at her brother Edmure and her sister Lysa, at the Lannisters, at the maesters, at Ned and her father and the monstrous gods who would take them both away from her. \"You should have told me,\" she said. \"You should have sent word as soon as you knew.\"\n\n\"He forbade it. He did not want his enemies to know that he was dying. With the realm so troubled, he feared that if the Lannisters suspected how frail he was...\"\n\n\"... they might attack?\" Catelyn finished, hard. It was your doing, yours, a voice whispered inside her. If you had not taken it upon yourself to seize the dwarf..."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "They climbed the spiral stair in silence.\n\nThe keep was three-sided, like Riverrun itself, and Lord Hoster's solar was triangular as well, with a stone balcony that jutted out to the east like the prow of some great sandstone ship. From there the lord of the castle could look down on his walls and battlements, and beyond, to where the waters met. They had moved her father's bed out onto the balcony. \"He likes to sit in the sun and watch the rivers,\" Edmure explained. \"Father, see who I've brought. Cat has come to see you...\"\n\nHoster Tully had always been a big man; tall and broad in his youth, portly as he grew older. Now he seemed shrunken, the muscle and meat melted off his bones. Even his face sagged. The last time Catelyn had seen him, his hair and beard had been brown, well streaked with grey. Now they had gone white as snow.\n\nHis eyes opened to the sound of Edmure's voice. \"Little cat,\" he murmured in a voice thin and wispy and wracked by pain. \"My little cat.\" A tremulous smile touched his face as his hand groped for hers. \"I watched for you...\"\n\n\"I shall leave you to talk,\" her brother said, kissing their lord father gently on the brow before he withdrew.\n\nCatelyn knelt and took her father's hand in hers. It was a big hand, but fleshless now, the bones moving loosely under the skin, all the strength gone from it. \"You should have told me,\" she said. \"A rider, a raven...\"\n\n\"Riders are taken, questioned,\" he answered. \"Ravens are brought down...\" A spasm of pain took him, and his fingers clutched hers hard. \"The crabs are in my belly... pinching, always pinching. Day and night. They have fierce claws, the crabs. Maester Vyman makes me dreamwine, milk of the poppy... I sleep a lot... but I wanted to be awake to see you, when you came. I was afraid... when the Lannisters took your brother, the camps all around us... I was afraid I would go, before I could see you again... I was afraid...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm here, Father,\" she said. \"With Robb, my son. He'll want to see you too.\"\n\n\"Your boy,\" he whispered. \"He had my eyes, I remember...\"\n\n\"He did, and does. And we've brought you Jaime Lannister, in irons. Riverrun is free again, Father.\"\n\nLord Hoster smiled. \"I saw. Last night, when it began, I told them... had to see. They carried me to the gatehouse... watched from the battlements. Ah, that was beautiful... the torches came in a wave, I could hear the cries floating across the river... sweet cries... when that siege tower went up, gods... would have died then, and glad, if only I could have seen you children first. Was it your boy who did it? Was it your Robb?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Catelyn said, fiercely proud. \"It was Robb... and Brynden. Your brother is here as well, my lord.\"\n\n\"Him.\" Her father's voice was a faint whisper. \"The Blackfish... came back? From the Vale?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And Lysa?\" A cool wind moved through his thin white hair. \"Gods be good, your sister... did she come as well?\"\n\nHe sounded so full of hope and yearning that it was hard to tell the truth. \"No. I'm sorry...\"\n\n\"Oh.\" His face fell, and some light went out of his eyes. \"I'd hoped... I would have liked to see her, before...\"\n\n\"She's with her son, in the Eyrie.\"\n\nLord Hoster gave a weary nod. \"Lord Robert now, poor Arryn's gone... I remember... why did she not come with you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She is frightened, my lord. In the Eyrie she feels safe.\" She kissed his wrinkled brow. \"Robb will be waiting. Will you see him? And Brynden?\"\n\n\"Your son,\" he whispered. \"Yes. Cat's child... he had my eyes, I remember. When he was born. Bring him... yes.\"\n\n\"And your brother?\"\n\nHer father glanced out over the rivers. \"Blackfish,\" he said. \"Has hewed yet? Taken some... girl to wife?\"\n\nEven on his deathbed, Catelyn thought sadly. \"He has not wed. You know that, Father. Nor will he ever.\"\n\n\"I told him... commanded him. Marry! I was his lord. He knows. My right, to make his match. A good match. A Redwyne. Old House. Sweet girl, pretty... freckles... Bethany, yes. Poor child. Still waiting. Yes. Still...\"\n\n\"Bethany Redwyne wed Lord Rowan years ago,\" Catelyn reminded him. \"She has three children by him.\"\n\n\"Even so,\" Lord Hoster muttered. \"Even so. Spit on the girl. The Redwynes. Spit on me. His lord, his brother... that Blackfish. I had other offers. Lord Bracken's girl. Walder Frey... any of three, he said... Has hewed? Anyone? Anyone?\"\n\n\"No one,\" Catelyn said, \"yet he has come many leagues to see you, fighting his way back to Riverrun. I would not be here now, if Ser Brynden had not helped us.\"\n\n\"He was ever a warrior,\" her father husked. \"That he could do. Knight of the Gate, yes.\" He leaned back and closed his eyes, inutterably weary. \"Send him. Later. I'll sleep now. Too sick to fight. Send him up later, the Blackfish...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn kissed him gently, smoothed his hair, and left him therein the shade of his keep, with his rivers flowing beneath. He was asleep before she left the solar.\n\nWhen she returned to the lower bailey, Ser Brynden Tully stood on the water stairs with wet boots, talking with the captain of Riverrun's guards. He came to her at once. \"Is he-?\"\n\n\"Dying,\" she said. \"As we feared.\"\n\nHer uncle's craggy face showed his pain plain. He ran his fingers through his thick grey hair. \"Will he see me?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"He says he is too sick to fight.\"\n\nBrynden Blackfish chuckled. \"I am too old a soldier to believe that. Hoster will be chiding me about the Redwyne girl even as we light his funeral pyre, damn his bones.\"\n\nCatelyn smiled, knowing it was true. \"I do not see Robb.\"\n\n\"He went with Greyjoy to the hall, I believe.\"\n\nTheon Greyjoy was seated on a bench in Riverrun's Great Hall, enjoying a horn of ale and regaling her father's garrison with an account of the slaughter in the Whispering Wood. \"Some tried to flee, but we'd pinched the valley shut at both ends, and we rode out of the darkness with sword and lance. The Lannisters must have thought the Others themselves were on them when that wolf of Robb's got in among them. I saw him tear one man's arm from his shoulder, and their horses went mad at the scent of him. I couldn't tell you how many men were thrown-\"\n\n\"Theon,\" she interrupted, \"where might I find my son?\"\n\n\"Lord Robb went to visit the godswood, my lady.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was what Ned would have done. He is his father's son as much as mine, I must remember. Oh, gods, Ned...\n\nShe found Robb beneath the green canopy of leaves, surrounded by tall redwoods and great old elms, kneeling before the heart tree, a slender weirwood with a face more sad than fierce. His longsword was before him, the point thrust in the earth, his gloved hands clasped around the hilt. Around him others knelt: Greatjon Umber, Rickard Karstark, Maege Mormont, Galbart Glover, and more. Even Tytos Blackwood was among them, the great raven cloak fanned out behind him. These are the ones who keep the old gods, she realized. She asked herself what gods she kept these days, and could not find an answer.\n\nIt would not do to disturb them at their prayers. The gods must have their due... even cruel gods who would take Ned from her, and her lord father as well. So Catelyn waited. The river wind moved through the high branches, and she could seethe Wheel Tower to her right, ivy crawling up its side. As she stood there, all the memories came flooding back to her. Her father had taught her to ride amongst these trees, and that was the elm that Edmure had fallen from when he broke his arm, and over there, beneath that bower, she and Lysa had played at kissing with Petyr.\n\nShe had not thought of that in years. How young they all had been-she no older than Sansa, Lysa younger than Arya, and Petyr younger still, yet eager. The girls had traded him between them, serious and giggling by turns. It came back to her so vividly she could almost feel his sweaty fingers on her shoulders and taste the mint on his breath. There was always mint growing in the godswood, and Petyr had liked to chew it. He had been such a bold little boy, always in trouble. \"He tried to put his tongue in my mouth,\" Catelyn had confessed to her sister afterward, when they were alone. \"He did with me too,\" Lysa had whispered, shy and breathless. \"I liked it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robb got to his feet slowly and sheathed his sword, and Catelyn found herself wondering whether her son had ever kissed a girl in the godswood. Surely he must have. She had seen Jeyne Poole giving him moist-eyed glances, and some of the serving girls, even ones as old as eighteen... he had ridden in battle and killed men with a sword, surely he had been kissed. There were tears in her eyes. She wiped them away angrily.\n\n\"Mother,\" Robb said when he saw her standing there. \"We must calla council. There are things to be decided.\"\n\n\"Your grandfather would like to see you,\" she said. \"Robb, he's very sick.\"\n\n\"Ser Edmure told me. I am sorry, Mother... for Lord Hoster and for you. Yet first we must meet. We've had word from the south. Renly Baratheon has claimed his brother's crown.\"\n\n\"Renly?\" she said, shocked. \"I had thought, surely it would be Lord Stannis...\"\n\n\"So did we all, my lady,\" Galbart Glover said.\n\nThe war council convened in the Great Hall, at four long trestle tables arranged in a broken square. Lord Hoster was too weak to attend, asleep on his balcony, dreaming of the sun on the rivers of his youth. Edmure satin the high seat of the Tullys, with Brynden Blackfish at his side, and his father's bannermen arrayed to right and left and along the side tables. Word of the victory at Riverrun had spread to the fugitive lords of the Trident, drawing them back. Karyl Vance came in, a lord now, his father dead beneath the Golden Tooth. Ser Marq Piper was with him, and they brought a Darry, Ser Raymun's son, a lad no older than Bran. Lord Jonos Bracken arrived from the ruins of Stone Hedge, glowering and blustering, and took a seat as far from Tytos Blackwood as the tables would permit."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The northern lords sat opposite, with Catelyn and Robb facing her brother across the tables. They were fewer. The Greatjon sat at Robb's left hand, and then Theon Greyjoy; Galbart Glover and Lady Mormont were to the right of Catelyn. Lord Rickard Karstark, gaunt and hollow-eyed in his grief, took his seat like a man in a nightmare, his long beard uncombed and unwashed. He had left two sons dead in the Whispering Wood, and there was no word of the third, his eldest, who had led the Karstark spears against Tywin Lannister on the Green Fork.\n\nThe arguing raged on late into the night. Each lord had aright to speak, and speak they did... and shout, and curse, and reason, and cajole, and jest, and bargain, and slam tankards on the table, and threaten, and walkout, and return sullen or smiling. Catelyn sat and listened to it all.\n\nRoose Bolton had re-formed the battered remnants of their other host at the mouth of the causeway. Ser Helman Tallhart and Walder Frey still held the Twins. Lord Tywin's army had crossed the Trident, and was making for Harrenhal. And there were two kings in the realm. Two kings, and no agreement.\n\nMany of the lords bannermen wanted to march on Harrenhal at once, to meet Lord Tywin and end Lannister power for all time. Young, hot-tempered Marq Piper urged a strike west at Casterly Rock instead. Still others counseled patience. Riverrun sat athwart the Lannister supply lines, Jason Mallister pointed out; let them bide their time, denying Lord Tywin fresh levies and provisions while they strengthened their defenses and rested their weary troops. Lord Blackwood would have none of it. They should finish the work they began in the Whispering Wood. March to Harrenhal and bring Roose Bolton's army down as well. What Blackwood urged, Bracken opposed, as ever; Lord Jonos Bracken rose to insist they ought pledge their fealty to King Renly, and move south to join their might to his."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Renly is not the king,\" Robb said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was the first time her son had spoken. Like his father, he knew how to listen.\n\n\"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my lord,\" Galbart Glover said. \"He put your father to death.\"\n\n\"That makes him evil,\" Robb replied. \"I do not know that it makes Renly king. Joffrey is still Robert's eldest trueborn son, so the throne is rightfully his by all the laws of the realm. Were he to die, and I mean to see that he does, he has a younger brother. Tommen is next inline after Joffrey.\"\n\n\"Tommen is no less a Lannister,\" Ser Marq Piper snapped.\n\n\"As you say,\" said Robb, troubled. \"Yet if neither one is king, still, how could it be Lord Renly? He's Robert's younger brother. Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me, and Renly can't be king before Lord Stannis.\"\n\nLady Mormont agreed. \"Lord Stannis has the better claim.\"\n\n\"Renly is crowned,\" said Marq Piper. \"Highgarden and Storm's End support his claim, and the Dornishmen will not be laggardly. If Winterfell and Riverrun add their strength to his, he will have five of the seven great houses behind him. Six, if the Arryns bestir themselves! Six against the Rock! My lords, within the year, we will have all their heads on pikes, the queen and the boy king, Lord Tywin, the Imp, the Kingslayer, Ser Kevan, all of them! That is what we shall win if we join with King Renly. What does Lord Stannis have against that, that we should cast it all aside?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The right,\" said Robb stubbornly. Catelyn thought he sounded eerily like his father as he said it.\n\n\"So you mean us to declare for Stannis?\" asked Edmure.\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Robb. \"I prayed to know what to do, but the gods did not answer. The Lannisters killed my father fora traitor, and we know that was a lie, but if Joffrey is the lawful king and we fight against him, we will be traitors.\"\n\n\"My lord father would urge caution,\" aged Ser Stevron said, with the weaselly smile of a Frey. \"Wait, let these two kings play their game of thrones. When they are done fighting, we can bend our knees to the victor, or oppose him, as we choose. With Renly arming, likely Lord Tywin would welcome a truce... and the safe return of his son. Noble lords, allow me to go to him at Harrenhal and arrange good terms and ransoms...\"\n\nA roar of outrage drowned out his voice. \"Craven!\" the Greatjon thundered. \"Begging fora truce will make us seem weak,\" declared Lady Mormont. \"Ransoms be damned, we must not give up the Kingslayer,\" shouted Rickard Karstark.\n\n\"Why not a peace?\" Catelyn asked.\n\nThe lords looked at her, but it was Robb's eyes she felt, his and his alone. \"My lady, they murdered my lord father, your husband,\" he said grimly. He unsheathed his longsword and laid it on the table before him, the bright steel on the rough wood. \"This is the only peace I have for Lannisters.\"\n\nThe Greatjon bellowed his approval, and other men added their voices, shouting and drawing swords and pounding their fists on the table. Catelyn waited until they had quieted. \"My lords,\" she said then, \"Lord Eddard was your liege, but I shared his bed and bore his children. Do you think I love him any less than you?\" Her voice almost broke with her grief, but Catelyn took along breath and steadied herself. \"Robb, if that sword could bring him back, I should never let you sheathe it until Ned stood at my side once more... but he is gone, and a hundred Whispering Woods will not change that. Ned is gone, and Daryn Hornwood, and Lord Karstark's valiant sons, and many other good men besides, and none of them will return to us. Must we have more deaths still?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You area woman, my lady,\" the Greatjon rumbled in his deep voice."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Women do not understand these things.\"\n\n\"You are the gentle sex,\" said Lord Karstark, with the lines of grief fresh on his face. \"A man has a need for vengeance.\"\n\n\"Give me Cersei Lannister, Lord Karstark, and you would see how gentle a woman can be,\" Catelyn replied. \" Perhaps I do not understand tactics and strategy... but I understand futility. We went to war when Lannister armies were ravaging the riverlands, and Ned was a prisoner, falsely accused of treason. We fought to defend ourselves, and to win my lord's freedom.\n\n\"Well, the one is done, and the other forever beyond our reach. I will mourn for Ned until the end of my days, but I must think of the living. I want my daughters back, and the queen holds them still. If I must trade our four Lannisters for their two Starks, I will call that a bargain and thank the gods. I want you safe, Robb, ruling at Winterfell from your father's seat. I want you to live your life, to kiss a girl and wed a woman and father a son. I want to write an end to this. I want to go home, my lords, and weep for my husband.\"\n\nThe hall was very quiet when Catelyn finished speaking.\n\n\"Peace,\" said her uncle Brynden. \"Peace is sweet, my lady... but on what terms? It is no good hammering your sword into a plowshare if you must forge it again on the morrow.\"\n\n\"What did Torrhen and my Eddard die for, if I am to return to Karhold with nothing but their bones?\" asked Rickard Karstark.\n\n\"Aye,\" said Lord Bracken. \"Gregor Clegane laid waste to my fields, slaughtered my smallfolk, and left Stone Hedge a smoking ruin. Am I now to bend the knee to the ones who sent him? What have we fought for, if we are to put all back as it was before?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Blackwood agreed, to Catelyn's surprise and dismay. \"And if we do make peace with King Joffrey, are we not then traitors to King Renly? What if the stag should prevail against the lion, where would that leave us?\"\n\n\"Whatever you may decide for yourselves, I shall never calla Lannister my king,\" declared Marq Piper.\n\n\"Nor I!\" yelled the little Darry boy. \"I never will!\"\n\nAgain the shouting began. Catelyn sat despairing. She had come so close, she thought. They had almost listened, almost... but the moment was gone. There would be no peace, no chance to heal, no safety. She looked at her son, watched him as he listened to the lords debate, frowning, troubled, yet wedded to his war. He had pledged himself to marry a daughter of Walder Frey, but she saw his true bride plain before her now: the sword he had laid on the table.\n\nCatelyn was thinking of her girls, wondering if she would ever see them again, when the Greatjon lurched to his feet.\n\n\"MY LORDS!\" he shouted, his voice booming off the rafters. \"Here is what I say to these two kings!\" He spat. \"Renly Baratheon is nothing tome, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine, from some flowery seat in Highgarden or Dorne? What do they know of the Wall or the wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong. The Others take the Lannisters too, I've had a bellyful of them.\" He reached back over his shoulder and drew his immense two-handed greatsword. \"Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we married, and the dragons are all dead!\" He pointed at Robb with the blade. \"There sits the only king I mean to bow my knee to, m'lords,\" he thundered. \"The King in the North!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And he knelt, and laid his sword at her son's feet.\n\n\"I'll have peace on those terms,\" Lord Karstark said. \"They can keep their red castle and their iron chair as well.\" He eased his longsword from its scabbard. \"The King in the North!\" he said, kneeling beside the Greatjon.\n\nMaege Mormont stood. \"The King of Winter!\" she declared, and laid her spiked mace beside the swords. And the river lords were rising too, Blackwood and Bracken and Mallister, houses who had never been ruled from Winterfell, yet Catelyn watched them rise and draw their blades, bending their knees and shouting the old words that had not been heard in the realm for more than three hundred years, since Aegon the Dragon had come to make the Seven Kingdoms one... yet now were heard again, ringing from the timbers of her father's hall:\n\n\"The King in the North!\"\n\n\"The King in the North!\"\n\n\"THE KING IN THE NORTH!\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's narrative assistant, advance the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 0"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Emarin smiled. \"Point conceded. You would be wonderful at the Game of Houses, Androl.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't say that,\" Androl said with a grimace. \"Last time I tried my hand at it, I almost...\" He stopped.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I'd rather not say,\" Androl said, face flushing. He was not going to explain that period of his life. Light, people will think I'm as much a tale-spinner as Nalaam if I continue on like this.\n\nEmarin turned to watch the rain hitting the window. \"The Knoks Rebellion succeeded for only a short time, if I remember correctly. Within two years the noble line had reestablished itself and the dissenters were driven out or executed.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Androl said softly.\n\n\"So we do a better job of it here,\" Emarin said. \"I'm your man, Androl. We all are.\"\n\n\"No,\" Androl said. \"We are the Black Tower's men. I'll lead you, if I must, but this isn't about me, or about you, or any of us individually. I am only in charge until Logain returns.\"\n\nIf he ever returns, Androl thought. Gateways into the Black Tower don't work any longer. Is he trying to return, but finds himself locked out?\n\n\"Very well,\" Emarin said. \"What do we do?\"\n\nThunder crashed outside. \"Let me think,\" Androl said, picking up his piece of leather and his tools. \" Give me one hour.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" Jesamyn said softly, kneeling beside Talmanes. \"There is nothing I can do. This wound is too far along for my skill.\"\n\nTalmanes nodded, replacing the bandage. The skin all along his side had turned black as if from terrible frostbite."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Kinswoman frowned at him. She was a youthfu 1-looking woman with golden hair, though with channelers, ages could be very deceptive. \"I'm amazed you can still walk.\"\n\n\"I'm not certain it could be defined as walking,\" Talmanes said, limping back toward the soldiers. He could still gimp along on his own, mostly, but the dizzy moments came more frequently now.\n\nGuybon was arguing with Dennel, who kept pointing at his map and gesturing. There was such a haze of smoke in the air that many of the men had tied kerchiefs to their faces. They looked like a band of bloody Aiel.\n\n. . even the Trollocs are pulling out of that quarter,\"Guybon insisted.\" There's too much fire.\"\n\n\"The Trollocs are pulling back to the walls all through the city,\" Dennel replied. \"They're going to let the city burn all night. The only sector not burning is the one where the Waygate is. They knocked down all of the buildings thereto create a firewall.\"\n\n\"They used the One Power,\" Jesamyn said from behind Talmanes. \" I felt it. Black sisters. I would not suggest going in that direction. '\n\nJesamyn was the only Kinswoman remaining; the other had fallen. Jesamyn wasn't powerful enough to create a gateway, but neither was she useless. Talmanes had watched her burn six Trollocs that had broken through his line.\n\nHe'd spent that skirmish sitting back, overcome by the pain. Fortunately, Jesamyn had given him some herbs to chew. They made his head feel fuzzier, but made the pain manageable. It felt as if his body were in a vise, being smashed slowly, but at least he could stay on his feet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We take the quickest route,\" Talmanes said. \"The quarter that isnt burning is too close to the dragons; I wont risk the Shadowspawn discovering Aludra and her weapons.\" Assuming they haven't already.\n\nGuybon glared at him, but this was the Band's operation. Guybon was welcome, but he wasn't part of their command structure.\n\nTalmanes' force continued through the dark city, wary of ambushes. Though they knew the approximate location of the warehouse, getting there was problematic. Many large streets were blocked by wreckage, fire or the enemy. His force had to crawl through alleyways and lanes so twisted that even Guybon and the others from Caemlyn had difficulty following their\n\nintended direction.\n\nTheir path skirted portions of the city that burned with a heat so\n\nstrong, it was probably melting cobblestones. Talmanes stared at these flames until his eyes felt dry, then led his men in further detours.\n\nInch by inch, they approached Aludra's warehouse. Twice they encountered Trollocs prowling for refugees to kill. They finished these off, the remaining crossbowmen felling over half of each group before they had time to respond.\n\nTalmanes stood to watch, but did not trust himself to fight any longer. That wound had left him too weak. Light, why had he left his horse behind? Fool move, that. Well, the Trollocs would have chased it off anyway.\n\nMy thoughts are starting to go in circles. He pointed with his sword down a crossing alley. The scouts scurried on ahead and looked in both directions before giving the all clear. I can barely think. Not much longer now before the darkness takes me.\n\nHe would seethe dragons protected first. He had to."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Talmanes stumbled out of the alley onto a familiar street. They were close. On one side of the street, structures burned. The statues there looked like poor souls trapped in the flames. The fires raged around them, and their white marble was slowly being overcome with black.\n\nThe other side of the street was silent, nothing there burning. Shadows thrown by the statues danced and played, like revelers watching their enemies burn. The air smelled oppressively of smoke. Those shadows-and the burning statues-seemed to move, to Talmanes' fuzzy mind. Dancing creatures of shadow. Dying beauties, consumed by a sickness upon the skin, darkening it, feasting upon it, killing the soul...\n\n\"We're close now!\" Talmanes said. He pushed himself forward into a shambling run. He couldn't afford to slow them down. If that fire reaches the warehouse...\n\nThey arrived at a burned-out patch of ground; the fire had been here, and gone, apparently. A large wooden warehouse had stood here once, but it had fallen in. Now the timbers only smoldered, and were heaped with rubble and half-burned Trolloc corpses.\n\nThe men gathered around him, silent. The only sound was that of crackling flames. Cold sweat dripped down Talmanes' face.\n\n\"We were too late,\" Melten whispered. \" They took them, didn't they? The dragons would have made explosions if they'd burned. The Shadow-spawn arrived, took the dragons and burned the place down.\n\nAround Talmanes, exhausted members of the Band sank down to their knees. I'm sorry, Mat, Talmanes thought. We tried. We-\n\nA sudden sound like thunder cracked through the city. It shook Talmanes to his bones, and the men looked up."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Light,\" Guybon said. \"The Shadowspawn are using the dragons?\"\n\n\"Maybe not,\" Talmanes said. Strength surged through him, and he broke into a run again. His men filled in around him.\n\nEach footfall sent a jolt of agony up his side. He passed down the street with the statues, flames to his right, cold stillness to his left.\n\nBOOM.\n\nThose explosions didn't sound loud enough to be dragons. Dared he hope for an Aes Sedai? Jesamyn seemed to have perked up at the sounds, and was running in her skirts alongside the men. The group barreled around a corner two streets from the warehouse and came upon the back ranks of a snarling force of Shadowspawn.\n\nTalmanes bellowed with a startling ferocity and raised his sword in two hands. The fire of his wound had spread through his entire body; even his fingers burned with it. He felt as if he'd become one of those statues, consigned to burn with the city.\n\nHe beheaded a Trolloc before it knew he was there, then threw himself at the next creature inline. It drew back with an almost liquid grace, turning a face on him that had no eyes, a cloak that did not stir in the wind. Pale lips drew back in a snarl.\n\nTalmanes found himself laughing. Why not? And men said he didnt have a sense of humor. Talmanes moved into Apple Blossoms in the Wind, striking forward wildly with a strength and fury to match the fire that was killing him.\n\nThe Myrddraal obviously had him at a disadvantage. At his best, Talmanes would have needed help fighting one. The thing moved like a shadow, flowing from one form to the next, its terrible blade darting toward Talmanes. It obviously felt it only needed to nick him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It scored a hit on his cheek, the tip of its sword catching on his skin there and slicing a neat ribbon through the flesh. Talmanes laughed and struck at the weapon with his sword, causing the Fade's mouth to open wide in surprise. That wasn't how men were supposed to react. They were supposed to stumble at the burning flare of pain, cry out as they knew their life had ended.\n\n\"I've already had one of your flaming swords in me, you son of a goat,\" Talmanes screamed, attacking time and time again. Blacksmith Strikes the Blade. Such an inelegant form. It fit his mood perfectly.\n\nThe Myrddraal stumbled. Talmanes sweptback in a smooth motion, bringing his sword to the side and slicing the thing's pale white arm free at the elbow. The limb twisted in the air, the Fade's blade dropping from spasming fingers. Talmanes spun for momentum and brought his sword across with two hands, severing the Fade's head from its neck.\n\nDark blood sprayed free and the thing fell, its remaining hand clawing at the bloodied stump as it collapsed. Talmanes stood over it, his sword suddenly feeling too heavy to hold. It slipped from his fingers, clanging to the paving stones. He tipped and lost his balance, falling face-first, but a hand caught him from behind.\n\n\"Light!\" Melten exclaimed, looking at the body. \"Another one?\"\n\n\"I've found the secret to defeating them,\" Talmanes whispered. \"You just have to be dead already.\" He chuckled to himself, though Melten just looked at him, seeming baffled.\n\nAround them, dozens of Trollocs collapsed to the ground, writhing. They'd been linked to the Fade. The Band gathered around Talmanes, some bearing wounds; a few were down for good. They were exhausted and worn down; this batch of Trollocs could have ended them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Melten retrieved Talmanes' sword and swabbed it clean, but Talmanes found he was having trouble standing, so he sheathed it and had a man fetch a Trolloc spear for him to lean on.\n\n\"Ho, the back of the street!\" a distant voice called. \"Whoever you are, thank you!\"\n\nTalmanes limped forward, Filger and Mar scouting on ahead without needing orders. The street here was dark and cluttered with Trollocs that had fallen moments ago, so it was a moment before Talmanes could climb over the corpses and see who had called to him.\n\nSomeone had built a barricade at the end of the street. People stood atop it, including one who held aloft a torch. She had hair in braids, and wore a plain brown dress with a white apron. It was Aludra.\n\n\"Cauthon's soldiers,\" Aludra said, sounding unimpressed. \"Your time, you certainly did take it coming for me.\" In one hand, she held a stubby leather cylinder larger than a man's fist, with a short length of dark fuse attached. Talmanes knew they exploded after she lit and threw them. The Band had used them before, hurling them from slings. They weren't as devastating as dragons, but still powerful.\n\n\"Aludra,\" Talmanes called, \"you have the dragons? Please, tell me you saved them.\"\n\nShe sniffed, waving for some people to pull apart aside of the barricade to admit his men. She appeared to have several hundred-maybe several thousand-townspeople back there, filling the street. As they opened the way for him, he saw a beautiful sight. Surrounded by townspeople, a hundred dragons rested there."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The bronze tubes had been fitted to wooden dragon carts to comprise a single unit, pulled by two horses. They were really quite maneuverable, all things considered. Those carts could be anchored in the ground to manage recoil, Talmanes knew, and the dragons fired once the horses were detached. There were more than enough people hereto do the workhorses should have been available to do.\n\n\"You think I would leave them?\" Aludra asked. \"This lot, they do not have the training to fire them. But they can pull a cart as well as anyone else.\"\n\n\"We have to get them out,\" Talmanes said.\n\n\"This, it is anew revelation to you?\" Aludra asked. \"As if I haven't been trying to do that very thing. Your face, what is wrong with it?\"\n\n\"I once ate a rather sharp cheese, and it has never quite sat right with me.\"\n\nAludra cocked her head at him. Maybe if I sjniled more when I made jokes, he thought idly, leaning against the side of the barricade. Then they'd understand what I meant. That, of course, raised the question: Did he want people to understand? It was often more amusing the other way. Besides, smiling was so garish. Where was the subtlety? And...\n\nAnd he was really having trouble focusing. He blinked at Aludra, whose face had grown concerned in the torchlight.\n\n\"What about my face?\" Talmanes raised a hand to his cheek. Blood. The Myrddraal. Right. \"Just a cut.\"\n\n\"And the veins?\"\n\n\"Veins?\" he asked, then noticed his hand. Tendrils of blackness, like ivy growing beneath the skin, had wound down his wrist and across the back of his hand toward the fingers. They seemed to be growing darker as he watched. \"Oh, that. I'm dying, unfortunately. Terribly tragic. You wouldn't happen to have any brandy, would you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I-\"\n\n\"My Lord!\" a voice called.\n\nTalmanes blinked, then forced himself to turnabout, leaning on the spear. \"Yes, Filger?\"\n\n\"More Trollocs, my Lord. Lots of them! They're filling in behind us.\"\n\n\"Lovely. Set the table. I hope we have enough dinnerware. I knew we should have sent the maid for that five thousand seven hundred and thirty-first set.\"\n\n\"Are you... feeling all right?\" Aludra asked.\n\n\"Blood and bloody ashes, woman, do I look like I'm feeling well? Guybon! Retreat is cutoff. How far from the east gates are we?\"\n\n\"East gates?\" Guybon called. \"Maybe a half-hour march. We need to head further down the hill.\"\n\n\"Onward we go, then,\" Talmanes said. \"Take the scouts and goon point. Dennel, make sure those local folk are organized to haul those dragons! Be ready to setup the weapons.\"\n\n\"Talmanes,\" Aludra said, stepping in. \"Dragons' eggs and powder, we have few of them left. We will need the supplies from Baerlon. Today, if you setup the dragons... A few shots for each dragon, this is all I can give you.\"\n\nDennel nodded. \"Dragons aren't meant to makeup frontline units all by themselves, my Lord. They need support to keep the enemy from coming too close and destroying the weapons. We can man those dragons, but we won't last long without infantry.\"\n\n\"That's why we're running,\" Talmanes said. Fie turned, took a step, and was so woozy he almost fell. \"And I believe... I believe I'll need a horse...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Moghedien stepped onto a platform of stone floating in the middle of an open sea. Glassy and blue, the water rippled in the occasional breeze, but there were no waves. Neither was there land insight.\n\nMoridin stood at the side of the platform, hands clasped behind his back. In front of him, the sea burned. The fire gave off no smoke, but it was hot, and the water near it hissed and boiled. Stone flooring in the middle of an endless sea. Water that burned. Moridin always had enjoyed creating impossibilities within his dreamshards.\n\n\"Sit,\" Moridin said to her, not turning.\n\nShe obeyed, choosing one of the four chairs suddenly arranged near the center of the platform. The sky was deep blue, cloudless, and the sun hung at about three-quarters of the way to its zenith. How long had it been since she'd seen the sun in Tel'aran'rhiod? Lately, that omnipresent black storm had blanketed the sky. But, then, this wasn't completely Tel'aran'rhiod. Nor was it Moridin's dream, but a... melding of the two. Like a temporary lean-to built off the side of the dreamworld. A bubble of merged realities.\n\nMoghedien wore a gown of black and gold, lacework on the sleeves faintly reminiscent of a spider's web. Only faintly. One did well not to overuse a theme.\n\nAs she sat, Moghedien tried to exude control and self-confidence. Once, both had come easily for her. Today, trying to capture either was like trying to snatch dandelion seeds from the air, only to have them dance away from her hand. Moghedien gritted her teeth, angry at herself. She was one of the Chosen. She had made kings weep, armies tremble. Her name had been used by generations of mothers to frighten their children. And now..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She felt at her neck, found the pendant hanging there."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was still safe. She knew it was, but touching it brought her calmness.\n\n\"Do not grow too comfortable wearing that,\" Moridin said. A wind blew across him, rippling the pristine ocean surface. On that wind she heard faint screams. \"You are not completely forgiven, Moghedien. This is a probation. Perhaps when you fail next, I will give the mindtrap to Demandred.\"\n\nShe sniffed. \"He would toss it aside in boredom. Demandred wants only one thing. Al'Thor. Anyone who does not lead him toward his goal is unimportant to him.\"\n\n\"You underestimate him,\" Moridin said softly. \"The Great Lord is pleased with Demandred. Very pleased. You, however. .\"\n\nMoghedien sank down in her chair, feeling her tortures anew. Pain such as few in this world had ever known. Pain beyond what a body should be able to endure. She held to the cour'souvra and embraced saidar. That brought some relief\n\nBefore, channeling in the same room as the cour'souvra had been agonizing. Now that she, rather than Moridin, wore the pendant, it was not so. Not just a pendant, she thought, clutching it. My soul itself. Darkness within! She had never thought that she, of all people, would find herself subject to one of these. Was she not the spider, careful in all that she did?\n\nShe reached her other hand up, clasping it over the one that held the pendant. What if it fell, what if someone took it? She wouldn't lose it. She couldn't lose it.\n\nThis is what I have become? She felt sick. I have to recover. Somehow. She forced herself to let goof the mindtrap."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Last Battle was upon them; already, Trollocs poured into the southern lands. It was anew War of the Shadow, but only she and the other Chosen knew the deeper secrets of the One Power. The ones she hadn't been forced to give up to those horrible women...\n\nNo, don't think about that. The pain, the suffering, the failure.\n\nIn this war, they faced no Hundred Companions, no Aes Sedai with centuries of skill and practice. She would prove herself, and past errors would be forgotten.\n\nMoridin continued to stare at those impossible flames. The only sounds were that of the fire and of the water that boiled near it. He would eventually explain his purpose in summoning her, wouldn't he? He had been acting increasingly strange, lately. Perhaps his madness was returning. Once, the man named Moridin-or Ishamael, or Elan Morin Tedronai-would have delighted in holding a cour'souvra for one of his rivals. Fie would have invented punishments, thrilled in her agony.\n\nThere had been some of that at the start; then... he had lost interest. Fie spent more and more time alone, staring into flames, brooding. The punishments he had administered to her and Cyndane had seemed almost routine.\n\nShe found him more dangerous this way.\n\nA gateway split the air just to the side of the platform. \"Do we really need to do this every other day, Moridin?\" Demandred asked, stepping through and into the World of Dreams. Handsome and tall, he had jet hair and a prominent nose. He gave Moghedien a glance, noting the mindtrap on her neck before continuing. \"I have important things to do, and you interrupt them.\"\n\n\"There are people you need to meet, Demandred,\" Moridin said softly. \"Unless the Great Lord has named you Nae'blis without informing me, you will do as you are told. Your playthings can wait.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Demandred's expression darkened, but he did not object further. He let the gateway close, then moved to the side, looking down into the sea. He frowned. What was in the waters? She hadn't looked. She felt foolish for not having done so. What had happened to her caution?\n\nDemandred walked to one of the chairs near her, but did not sit. He stood, contemplating Moridin from behind. What had Demandred been doing? During her period bound to the mindtrap, she had done Moridin's bidding, but had never found an answer to Demandred.\n\nShe shivered again, thinking of those months under Moridin's control. I will have vengeance.\n\n\"You've let Moghedien free,\" Demandred said. \"What of this... Cyndane?\"\n\n\"She is not your concern,\" Moridin said.\n\nMoghedien had not failed to notice that Moridin still wore Cyndane's mindtrap. Cyndane. It meant'last chance\" in the Old Tongue, but the woman's true nature was one secret that Moghedien had discovered. Moridin himself had rescued Lanfear from Sindhol, freeing her from the creatures that feasted upon her ability to channel.\n\nIn order to rescue her, and of course to punish her, Moridin had slain her. That had allowed the Great Lord to recapture her soul and place it in anew body. Brutal, but very effective. Precisely the kind of solution the Great Lord preferred.\n\nMoridin was focused on his flames, and Demandred on him, so Moghedien used the chance to slip out of her seat and walk to the edge of the floating stone platform. The water below was completely clear. Through it she could see people very distinctly. They floated with their legs chained to something deep below, arms bound behind them. They swayed like kelp."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There were thousands of them. Each of them looked up at the sky with wide, horrified eyes. They were locked in a perpetual state of drowning. Not dead, not allowed to die, but constantly gasping for air and finding only water. As she watched, something dark reached up from below and pulled one of them down into the depths. Blood rose like a blooming flower; it caused the others to struggle all the more urgently.\n\nMoghedien smiled. It did her good to see someone other than herself suffering. These might simply be figments, but it was possible that they were ones who had failed the Great Lord.\n\nAnother gateway opened at the side of the platform, and an unfamiliar woman stepped through. The creature had alarmingly unpleasant features, with a hooked yet bulbous nose and pale eyes that were off center with one another. She wore a dress that tried to be fine, of yellow silk, but it only served to highlight the womans ugliness.\n\nMoghedien sneered and returned to her seat. Why was Moridin admitting a stranger to one of their meetings? This woman could channel; she must be one of those useless women who called themselves Aes Sedai in this Age.\n\nGranted, Moghedien thought, sitting, she is powerful How had Moghedien missed noticing one with this talent among the Aes Sedai? Her sources had picked out that wretched lightskirt Nynaeve almost immediately, yet they'd missed this hag?\n\n\"This is who you wish us to meet?\" Demandred said, lips turning down.\n\n\"No,\" Moridin said absently. \"You've met Hessalam before.\"\n\nHessalam? It meant...\"without forgiveness\" in the Old Tongue. The woman met Moghedien's eyes proudly, and there was something familiar about her stance."
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "\"I have things to be about, Moridin,\" the newcomer said. \" This had\n\nbetter be-\"\n\nMoghedien gasped. The tone in that voice...\n\n\"Do not take that tone with me,\" Moridin cut in, speaking softly, not turning. \"Do not take it with any of us. Currently, even Moghedien is favored more than you.\"\n\n\"Graendal?\" Moghedien asked, horrified.\n\n\"Do not use that name!\" Moridin said, spinning on her, the burning water flaring up. \"It has been stripped from her.\"\n\nGraendal-Hessalam-sat down without looking again at Moghedien. Yes, the way the woman carried herself was right. It washer.\n\nMoghedien almost chortled with glee. Graendal had always used her looks as a bludgeon. Well, now they were a bludgeon of a different type. How perfect! The woman must be positively writhing inside. What had she done to earn such a punishment? Graendal's stature-her authority, the myths told about her-were all linked to her beauty. What now? Would she have to start searching for the most horrid people alive to keep as pets, the only ones who could compete with her ugliness?\n\nThis time, Moghedien did laugh. A quiet laugh, but Graendal heard. The woman shot her a glare that could have set a section of the ocean aflame all on its own.\n\nMoghedien returned a calm gaze, feeling more confident now. She resisted the urge to stroke the cour'souvra. Bring what you will, Graendal, she thought. We are on level footing now. We shall see who ends this race ahead.\n\nA stronger wind blew past, and ripples started to rise around them, though the platform itself remained secure. Moridin let his fire die out, and nearby, waves rose. Moghedien could make out bodies, little more than dark shadows, inside those waves. Some were dead. Others struggled for the surface, their chains removed, but as they neared the open air, something always towed them back down again."
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We are few, now,\" Moridin said. \"We four, and the one who is punished most, are all that remain. By definition, that makes us the strongest.\"\n\nSome of us are, Moghedien thought. One of us was slain by al'Thor, Moridin, and required the Great Lord's hand to return him. Why had Moridin never been punished for his failure? Well, it was best not to look too long for fairness in the Great Lord's hand.\n\n\"Still, we are too few.\" Moridin waved a hand, and a stone doorway appeared on the side of the platform. Not a gateway, just a door. This was Moridin's dreamshard; he could control it. The door opened, and a man strode through it and out onto the platform.\n\nDark-haired, the man had the features'of a Saldaean-a nose that was faintly hooked, eyes that tilted. He was handsome and tall, and Moghedien recognized him. \"The leader of those fledgling male Aes Sedai? I know this man, Mazri-\"\n\n\"That name has been discarded,\" Moridin said. \"Just as each of us, upon being Chosen, discarded what we were and the names men called us. From this moment on, this man shall be known only as M'Hael. One of the Chosen.\"\n\n\"Chosen?\" Hessalam seemed to choke on the word. \"This child? He-\" She cutoff.\n\nIt was not their place to debate if one was Chosen. They could argue among themselves, even plot, if they did so with care. But questioning the Great Lord... that was not allowed. Ever.\n\nHessalam said no more. Moridin would not dare call this man Chosen if the Great Lord had not decided it. There was no argument to be made. Still, Moghedien shivered. Taim... M'Hael... was said to be strong, perhaps as strong as the rest of them, but elevating one from this Age, with all of their ignorance.... It galled her to consider that this M'Hael would be regarded as her equal."
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I seethe challenge in your eyes,\" Moridin said, looking at the three of them, \"though only one of you was foolish enough to start voicing it. M'Hael has earned his reward. Too many of our number threw themselves into contests with al'Thor when he was presumed to be weak. M'Hael instead earned Lews Therin's trust, then took charge of the training of his weapons. He has been raising anew generation of Dreadlords to the Shadow's cause. What do the three of you have to show for your work since being released?\"\n\n\"You will know the fruits I have harvested, Moridin,\" Demandred said, voice low. \"You will know them in bushels and droves. Just remember my requirement: I face al'Thor on the field of battle. His blood is mine, and no one else's.\" He met each of their eyes in turn, then finally those of M'Hael. There seemed to be a familiarity to them. The two had met before.\n\nYou will have competition with that one, Demandred, Moghedien thought. He wants al'Thor nearly as much as you do.\n\nDemandred had been changing lately. Once, he wouldn't have cared who killed Lews Therin-so long as the man died. What made Demandred insist on doing the deed himself?\n\n\"Moghedien,\" Moridin said. \"Demandred has plans for the war to come. You are to assist him.\"\n\n' Assist him?\"she said.\" I-\"\n\n\"Do you forget yourself so quickly, Moghedien?\" Moridin's voice was silky. \" You will do as you are told. Demandred wants you watching over one of the armies that now lacks proper monitoring. Speak a single word of\n\ncomplaint, and you will realize that the pain you have known up to now is but a shadow of true agony.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Her hand went to the cour'souvra at her neck."
},
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"value": "Looking into his eyes, she felt her authority evaporate. I hate you, she thought. I hate you more for doing this tome in front of the others.\n\n\"The last days are upon us,\" Moridin said, turning his back on them. \"In these hours, you will earn your final rewards. If you have grudges, put them behind you. If you have plots, bring them to completion. Make your final plays, for this... this is the end.\"\n\nTalmanes lay on his back, staring up at a dark sky. The clouds above seemed to be reflecting light from below, the light of a dying city. That was wrong. Light came from above, didn't it?\n\nHe'd fallen from the horse not long after starting for the city gate. He could remember that, most of the time. Pain made it hard to think. People yelled atone another.\n\nI should have... I should have taunted Mat more, he thought, a hint of a smile cracking his lips. Stupid time to bethinking of such things. I have to... have to find the dragons. Or did we find them already...?\n\n\"I'm telling you, the bloody things don't work like that!\" Dennel's voice. \"They're not bloody Aes Sedai on wheels. We can't make a wall of fire. We can send these balls of metal hurtling through the Trollocs.\"\n\n\"They explode.\" Guybon's voice. \" We could use the extras like I say.\n\nTalmanes' eyes drifted closed.\n\n\"The balls explode, yes,\" Dennel said. \"But we have to launch them first. Setting them all in a row and letting the Trollocs run over them wont do much.\"\n\nA hand shook Talmanes' shoulder. \"Lord Talmanes,\" Melten said. \"There is no dishonor in letting it end now. I know the pain is great. May the last embrace of the mother shelter you.\""
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"value": "A sword being drawn. Talmanes steeled himself.\n\nThen he found that he really, really didn't want to die.\n\nHe forced his eyes open and held up a hand to Melten, who stood over him. Jesamyn hovered nearby with arms folded, looking worried.\n\n\"Help me to my feet,\" Talmanes said.\n\nMelten hesitated, then did so.\n\n\"You shouldn't be standing,\" Jesamyn said.\n\n\"Better than being beheaded in honor,\" Talmanes grumbled, gritting\n\nhis teeth against the pain. Light, was that his hand? It was so dark, it looked as if it had been charred in afire. \"What... what is going on?\" \"Were cornered, my Lord,\" Melten said grimly, eyes solemn. He thought them all as good as dead. \"Dennel and Guybon are arguing over placement of the dragons fora last stand. Aludra is measuring the charges.\"\n\nTalmanes, finally standing, sagged against Melten. Before him, two thousand people clustered in the large city square. They huddled like men in the wilderness seeking one another's warmth on a cold night. Dennel and Guybon had setup the dragons in a half-circle bowed outward, pointing toward the center of the city, refugees behind. The Band was now committed to manning the dragons; three pairs of hands were needed to operate each weapon. Almost all of the Band had had at least some training.\n\nThe buildings nearby had caught fire, but the light was doing strange things. Why didn't it reach the streets? Those were all too dark. As if they'd been painted. Like...\n\nHe blinked, clearing the tears of pain from his eyes, realization dawning. Trollocs filled the streets like ink flowing toward the half-circle of dragons that were pointed at them."
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"value": "Something held the Trollocs back for the moment. They're waiting until they are all together fora rush, Talmanes thought.\n\nCalls and snarls came from behind. Talmanes pivoted, then clutched Melten's arm as the world lurched. He waited for it to steady. The pain... the pain was actually dulling. Like glowing flames running out of fresh coal. It had feasted upon him, but there wasn't much left of him for it to eat.\n\nAs things steadied, Talmanes saw what was creating the snarls. The square they were in adjoined the city wall, but the townspeople and soldiers had kept their distance from the wall, for it was coated with Trollocs, like a thick grime. They raised weapons in the air and roared down at the people.\n\n\"They throw down spears at anyone who comes too close, Melten said.\" We'd been hoping to reach the wall, then follow it along to the gate, but we can't-not with those things up there raining death upon us. All other\n\nroutes are cutoff.\"\n\nAludra approached Guybon and Dennel. \"Charges, I can set under the dragons,\" she said to them; softly, but not as softly as she should have. \"These charges, they will destroy the weapons. They may hurt the people in an unpleasant way.\"\n\n\"Do it,\" Guybon said very softly. \"What the Trollocs would do is worse, and we cannot allow the dragons to fall into the Shadow's hands. Thats why they're waiting. Their leaders are hoping that a sudden rush will give them time to overwhelm us and seize the weapons.\"\n\n\"They're moving!\" a soldier called from beside the dragons. \"Light, they're coming!\""
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"value": "That dark slime of Shadowspawn bubbled down the streets. Teeth, nails, claws, too-human eyes. The Trollocs came from all sides, eager for the kill. Talmanes struggled to draw breath.\n\nOn the walls, the calls grew excited. We're surrounded, Talmanes thought.\n\nPressed back against the wall, caught in a net. We...\n\nPressed back against the wall.\n\n\"Dennel!\" Talmanes shouted over the din. The captain of dragons turned from his line, where men waited with burning punks for the call to launch the one volley they'd have.\n\nTalmanes took a deep breath that made his lungs burn. \"You told me that you could level an enemy bulwark in only a few shots.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Dennel called. \"But were not trying to enter. .\" He trailed off.\n\nLight, Talmanes thought. We're all so exhausted. We should have seen this. \"You in the middle, Ryden's dragon squad, about-face!\" Talmanes screamed. \" The rest of you, stay in position and fire at the oncoming Trollocs! Move, move, mover\n\nThe dragoners sprang into motion, Ryden and his men hastily turning their weapons about, wheels creaking. The other dragons began to fire a pattern of shot that sprayed through the streets entering the square. The booms were deafening, causing refugees to scream and cover their ears. It sounded like the end of the world. Hundreds, thousands of Trollocs went down in pools of blood as dragons' eggs exploded in their midst. The square filled with white smoke that poured from the mouths of the dragons.\n\nThe refugees behind, already terrified by what they had just witnessed, shrieked as Ryden's dragons turned on them, and most of them fell to the ground in fright, clearing a path. A path that exposed the Trolloc-infested city wall. Ryden's line of dragons bowed inward like a cup, the reverse formation of those firing into the Trollocs behind, so that the tubes were pointed at the same section of city wall."
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Give me one of those bloody punks!\""
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"value": "Talmanes shouted, holding out a hand. One of the dragoners obeyed, passing him a flaming brand with a glowing red tip. He pushed away from Melten, determined to stand on his own for the moment.\n\nGuybon stepped up. The man's voice sounded soft to Talmanes\" strained ears. \"Those walls have stood for hundreds of years. My poor city. My poor, poor city.\"\n\n\"It's not your city any longer,\" Talmanes said, raising his flaming brand high in the air, defiant before a wall thick with Trollocs, a burning city to his back. \"It's theirs.\"\n\nTalmanes swiped the brand down in the air, leaving a trail of red. His signal ignited a roar of dragonfire that echoed throughout the square.\n\nTrollocs-pieces of them, at least-blew into the air. The wall under them exploded like a stack of childrens blocks kicked at a full run. As Talmanes wavered, his vision blackening, he saw the wall crumble outward. When he toppled, slipping into unconsciousness, the ground seemed to tremble from the force of his fall.\n\nCHAPTER"
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"value": "The Choke of a Patch\n\nElayne found Bashere pacing on the east bank of the river.\n\nRiverbanks were among the few places that still felt alive to her. So much was lifeless these days, trees that did not put forth leaves, grass that did not grow, animals that huddled in their dens and refused to move.\n\nThe rivers kept flowing. There was a sense of life to that, though the plants were dreary.\n\nThe Alguenya was one of those deceptively mighty rivers that looked placid from a distance, but could pull a woman under its surface until she drowned. She remembered Bryne making a lesson of that to Gawyn once during a hunting trip they'd taken along it. He'd been speaking to her, too. Maybe to her primarily, though he'd always been careful not to overstep himself with the Daughter-Heir.\n\nBe careful of currents, he'd said. River currents are one of the most dangerous things under the Light, but only because men underestimate them. The surface looks still because nothing is fighting it. Nothing wants to. The fish go along with it and men stay out of it, all except the fools who think to prove themselves.\n\nElayne stepped down the rocky bank, toward Bashere. Her guards stayed behind-Birgitte wasn't with them just now. She was seeing to the archer companies miles downriver, where they were busy pounding the Trollocs building rafts to get them across the river. Birgitte's archers and Talmanes' dragons were doing an outstanding job of reducing the Trolloc\n\nnumbers there, but it was still only a matter of time before their vast army would pour across the Alguenya.\n\nElayne had pulled her forces out of Andor a week before, and she and"
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"value": "Bashere had been pleased with their progress. Until they had discovered the trap.\n\n'Amazing, isnt it? she asked, stepping up beside Bashere, who stood at\n\nthe river's bank.\n\nBashere glanced at her, then nodded. \"We don't have anything like it, back home.\"\n\n\"What of the Arinelle?\"\n\n„ \"Ir doesn,,: S row this big until it's outside of Saldaea,\" he said absently. \"This is almost like an ocean, settled right here, dividing bank from bank. It makes me smile, thinking of how the Aiel must have regarded it after first crossing the Spine.\"\n\nThe two of them were silent fora time.\n\n\"How bad is it?\" Elayne finally asked.\n\nBad,\"Bashere said.\" I should have realized, burn me. I should have seen.\"\n\n\"You can't plan for everything, Bashere.\"\n\nPardon, he said, but that is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.\" Their march eastward from Braem Wood had gone according to plan. Burning the bridges across the Erinin and the Alguenya, they had taken out large numbers of Trollocs trying to cross after them. Elayne was now on the road that went upriver to the city of Cairhien. Bashere had planned to setup their final confrontation with the Trollocs in hills along the road that lay twenty leagues south of Cairhien.\n\nThe Shadow had outthought them. Scouts had spotted a second army of Trollocs just to the north of their current position, marching east, heading toward the city of Cairhien itself. Elayne had stripped that city of defenders to fill out her army. Now it was filled only with refugees-and was as crowded as Caemlyn had been."
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"value": "How did they do it? she asked. \"Those Trollocs couldn't have comedown from Tarwin's Gap.\"\n\nThere hasnt been enough time for that,\" Bashere agreed.\n\n\"Another Waygate?\" she asked.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Bashere said. \"Perhaps not.\"\n\nHow, then? she asked. Where did that army come from?\" That army of Trollocs was almost close enough to knock on the city gates. Light!\n\nI made the mistake of thinking like a human,\"Bashere said.\" I accounted for Trolloc marching speed, but not for how the Myrddraal might\n\npush them. A foolish mistake. The army in the woods must have split in two, with half taking a northeastern route through the woods toward Cairhien. It's the only thing I can think of.\"\n\n\"We've been moving as quickly as we can,\" Elayne said. \"How could they have overtaken us?\" Her army had gateways. She couldn't move everyone through them, as she didn't have enough channelers to hold gateways for long periods. However, she could move the supply carts, the wounded, and the camp followers through. That let them march at the speed of trained soldiers.\n\n\"We've moved as quickly as we could safely,\" Bashere said. \"A human commander would never have pushed his forces into such a terrible march. The terrain they went through had to have been awful-the rivers they had to cross, the forests, the wetlands, Light! They must have lost thousands of Trollocs to fatigue during such a march. The Fades risked it, and now they have us in a pincer. The city could be destroyed as well.\"\n\nElayne fell silent. \"I won't let that happen,\" she finally said. \"Not again. Not if we can prevent it.\""
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"value": "\"Do we have a choice?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Elayne said. \"Bashere, you're one of the greatest military minds the land has known. You have resources that no man has ever had before. The dragons, the Kinswomen, Ogier willing to fight in battle... You can make this work. I know you can.\"\n\n\"You show surprising faith in me for someone you have known a very short time.\"\n\n\"Rand trusts you,\" Elayne said. \"Even during the dark times, Bashere-when he would look at every second person around him with darkness in his eyes-he trusted you.\"\n\nBashere seemed troubled. \"There is away.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"We march and hit the Trollocs near Cairhien as quickly as we can. They're tired; they have to be. If we could beat them quickly, before the horde to the south reaches us, we may have a chance. It will be difficult. The northern force probably wants to seize the city, then use it against us as the southern Trollocs arrive.\"\n\n\"Could we open gateways into the city and hold it?\"\n\n\"I doubt it,\" Bashere said. \"Not with channelers as tired as these. Beyond that, we need to destroy the northern Trollocs, not just hold against them. If we give them time to rest, they will recover from their march, be joined by the Trollocs from the south, then use Dreadlords to rip open Cairhien like an overripe apple. No, Elayne. We have to attack and crush that northern army while it is weak; only then could we possibly hold against the southern one. If we fail, the two will smash us between them.\"\n\n\"It is the risk we must take,\" Elayne said. \"Make your plans, Bashere. We'll make them work.\""
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"value": "Egwene stepped into Tel'aran'rhiod.\n\nThe World of Dreams had always been dangerous, unpredictable. Lately, it was even more so. The grand city of Tear reflected strangely in the dream, the buildings weathered as if by a hundred years of storms. The city walls were now little more than ten feet high, their tops rounded and smooth, blown by the wind. Buildings inside had worn away, leaving foundations and lumps of weathered stone.\n\nChilled by the sight, Egwene turned toward the Stone. It, at least, stood as it had. Tall, strong, unchanged by the weathering of the winds. That comforted her.\n\nShe sent herself into its heart. The Wise Ones waited for her. That, too, was comforting. Even in this time of change and tempest, they were solid like the Stone itself. Amys, Bair and Melaine waited for her. She overheard part of their conversation before they noticed her.\n\n\"I saw it just as she did,\" Bair was saying. \"Though it was my own descendants who lent me their eyes. I think we will all see it now, if we return the third time. It should be required.\"\n\n\"Three visits?\" Melaine said. \"That brings change indeed. We still do not know if the second visit will show this, or the previous vision.\"\n\nConscious of her eavesdropping, Egwene cleared her throat. They turned toward her, immediately falling silent.\n\n\"I did not mean to intrude,\" Egwene said, walking among the columns and joining them.\n\n\"It is nothing,\" Bair said. \"We should have guarded our tongues. We were the ones to invite you hereto meet us, after all.\"\n\n\"It is good to see you, Egwene al'Vere,\" Melaine said, smiling with affection. The woman looked so far along in her pregnancy, she must be close to delivering. \" From reports, your army gains much ju"
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"value": "\"We do well,\" Egwene said, settling herself on the floor with them. \"You shall have your own chance, Melaine.\"\n\n\"The Car'a\"carn delays,\" Amys said, frowning. \"The spears grow impatient. We should be moving against Sightblinder.\"\n\n\"He likes to prepare and plan,\" Egwene said. She hesitated. \"I cannot remain with you long. I have a meeting with him later today.\"\n\n\"About what?\" Bair asked, leaning forward, curious.\n\n\"I don't know,\" Egwene said. \"I found a letter from him on the floor of my tent. He said he wanted to see me, but not as Dragon and Amyrlin. As old friends.\"\n\n\"Tell him that he must not dally,\" Bair said. \"But here, there is something we need to speak of with you.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" Egwene asked, curious.\n\n\"Have you seen anything like this?\" Melaine said, concentrating. On the floor between them, the rock split with cracks. She was imposing her will upon the World of Dreams, creating something specific for Egwene to see.\n\nAt first, she was confused. Cracks in the rock? Of course she had seen cracks in rock before. And with the earthquakes striking the land so often recently, they were probably becoming even more common.\n\nThere was something distinctive about these. Egwene leaned forward, and found that the cracks seemed to empty into nothing. A deep blackness. Unnaturally so.\n\n\"What is it?\" Egwene asked.\n\n\"Our people report seeing these,\" Amys said softly. \"Those fighting in Andor and those in the Blasted Lands with Rand al'Thor. They appear like fractures in the pattern itself. They remain dark like that fora few moments, then fade, leaving behind ordinary cracks.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is a very dangerous sign,\" Bair said. \"We sent one of ours to ask at the Borderlands, where Lan Mandragoran fights. It appears that the cracks are most common there.\"\n\n\"They appear more frequently when the Dreadlords fight,\" Amys said. \"When they use the weave known as balefire.\"\n\nEgwene stared at that darkness, shivering. \"Balefire weakens the Pattern. During the War of Power, even the Forsaken grew to fear using it, lest they unravel the world itself.\"\n\n\"We must spread the word to all of our allies,\" Amys said. \"We must not use this weave.\"\n\n\"It is forbidden of Aes Sedai already,\" Egwene said. \"But I will make it known that nobody is to consider breaking that rule.\"\n\n\"That is wise,\" Melaine said. \"Fora people with so many rules for themselves, I have found that the Aes Sedai are very proficient at ignoring guidelines if their situation allows it.\"\n\n\"We trust our women,\" Egwene said. \"The Oaths hold them; otherwise, their own wisdom must guide them. If Moiraine had not been willing to bend this rule, Perrin would be dead-as would Mat, had Rand ignored the rule. But I will speak to the women.\"\n\nBalefire bothered her. Not that it existed or did what it did. It was uniquely dangerous. And yet, what was it Perrin had said to her in the dream? It's only another weave...\n\nIt seemed unfair that the Shadow should have access to such a weapon as this, one that unraveled the Pattern as it was used. How would they fight it, how could they counter it?\n\n\"This is not the only reason we sent to you, Egwene al'Vere,\" Melaine said. \"You have seen the changes to the World of Dreams?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Egwene nodded."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The storm grows worse here.\"\n\n\"We will not be visiting here often in the future,\" Amys said. \"We have made the decision. And, despite our complaints about him, the Car'a\"carn does prepare his armies to move. It will not belong before we march with him to the Shadow's own hold.\"\n\nEgwene nodded slowly. \"So this is it.\"\n\n\"I am proud of you, girl,\" Amys said. Amys, tough-as-rocks Amys, looked teary-eyed. They rose, and Egwene embraced them one at a time.\n\n\"Light shelter you, Amys, Melaine, Bair,\" Egwene said. \"Give my love to the others.\"\n\n\"It will be done, Egwene al'Vere,\" Bair said. \"May you find water and shade, now and always.\"\n\nOne by one, they faded from Tear. Egwene took a deep breath, looking upward. The building groaned, like a ship in a tempest. The rock itself seemed to shift around her.\n\nShe had loved this place-not the Stone, but Tel'ararirhiod. It had taught her so much. But she knew, as she prepared to leave, that it was like a river in dangerous flood. Familiar and loved it might be, but she could not risk herself here. Not while the White Tower needed her.\n\n\"And farewell to you, old friend,\" she said to the air. \"Until I dream again.\"\n\nShe let herself wake.\n\nGawyn waited beside the bed, as usual. They were back in the Tower, Egwene fully dressed, in the chamber near her study. It was not yet evening, but the request from the Wise One was not something she had wished to ignore."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hes here,\" Gawyn said quietly, glancing at the door to her study.\n\n\"Then let us meet him,\" Egwene said. She prepared herself, rising, smoothing her skirt. She nodded to Gawyn, and they stepped out and went to meet the Dragon Reborn.\n\nRand smiled when he saw her. He waited inside with two Maidens she did not know.\n\n\"What is this about?\" Egwene asked tiredly. \"Convincing me to break the seals?\"\n\n\"You've grown cynical,\" Rand noted.\n\n\"The last two times we met,\" Egwene said, \"you pointedly tried to infuriate me. Am I not to expect it again?\"\n\n\"I am not trying to infuriate you,\" Rand said. \"Look, here.\" He pulled something from his pocket. A hair ribbon. He held it out to her. \"You always looked forward so to being able to braid your hair.\"\n\n\"So now you imply I'm a child?\" Egwene asked, exasperated. Gawyn rested a hand on her shoulder, comforting.\n\n\"What? No!\" Rand sighed. \"Light, Egwene. I want to make amends. You're like a sister tome; I never had siblings. Or, at least, the one I have doesn't know me. I only have you. Please. I'm not trying to rile you.\"\n\nFora moment, he seemed just as he had long ago. An innocent boy, earnest. Egwene let her frustration melt away. \"Rand, I'm busy. We are busy. There isn't time for things like this. Your armies are impatient.\"\n\n\"Their time will soon come,\" Rand said, growing harder. \"Before this is through, they will wonder why they were so eager, and will look with longing at these restful days waiting.\" He still held the ribbon in his hand, forming a fist. \"I just... I didn't want to go to my fight with our last meeting having been an argument, even if it was an important one.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, Rand,\" Egwene said. She stepped forward, taking the ribbon. She embraced him. Light, but he'd been difficult to deal with lately-but she'd thought the same thing about her parents on occasion. \"I support you. It doesn't mean I'm going to do as you say with the seals, but I do support you.\" Egwene released Rand. She would not be teary-eyed. Even if it did seem like a last parting for them.\n\n\"Wait,\" Gawyn said. \"Sibling? You have a sibling?\"\n\n\"I am the son of Tigraine,\" Rand said, shrugging, \"born after she went to the Waste and became a Maiden.\"\n\nGawyn looked stunned, though Egwene had figured this outages ago. \"You are Galad's brother?\" Gawyn asked.\n\n\"Half-brother,\" Rand said. \"Not that it would probably mean much to a Whitecloak. We had the same mother. His father, like yours, was Tarin-gail, but mine was an Aiel.\"\n\n\"I think Galad would surprise you,\" Gawyn said softly. But Elayne...\n\n\"Not to tell you your own family history, but Elayne is not related tome.\" Rand turned to Egwene. \"May I see them? The seals. Before I go to Shayol Ghul, I would look upon them one last time. I promise not to do anything with them.\"\n\nReluctantly, she fished them from the pouch at her waist where she often kept them. Gawyn, still looking stunned, walked to the window and pushed it open, letting light into the room. The White Tower felt still... silent. Its armies were gone, its masters at war.\n\nShe unwrapped the first seal and handed it to Rand. She would not give him all of them at once. Justin case. She did trust his word; it was Rand after all, but... just in case."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rand held up the seal, staring at it, as if seeking wisdom in that sinuous line. \"I crafted these,\" he whispered. \"I made them to never break. But I knew, as I did it, that they would eventually fail. Everything eventually fails when he touches it. .\"\n\nEgwene hefted another of the seals, holding it gingerly. It would not do to break the thing by accident. She kept them wrapped and the pouch stuffed with cloth; she worried about breaking them while carrying them, but Moiraine had indicated that Egwene would break them.\n\nShe felt that was foolish, but the words she had read, the things Moiraine had said... Well, if the moment did come to break them, Egwene would need to have them at hand. And so she carried them-carried with her the potential death of the world itself.\n\nRand suddenly went as white as a sheet. \"Egwene,\" he said. \"This does not fool me.\"\n\n\"What doesn't?\"\n\nHe looked at her. \"This is a fake. Please, it is all right. Tell me the truth. You made a copy and gave it tome.\"\n\n\"I did nothing of the sort,\" she said.\n\n\"Oh... Oh, Light\" Rand raised the seal again. \"Its a fake.\"\n\n\"What!\" Egwene snatched it from his hand, feeling it. She sensed nothing wrong. \"How can you be sure?\"\n\n\"I made them,\" Rand said. \"I know my handiwork. That is not one of the seals. It is... Light, someone took them.\"\n\n\"I've had these with me each moment since you gave them tome!\" Egwene said.\n\n\"Then it happened before,\" Rand whispered. \"I didn't look them over carefully after I fetched them. He knew, somehow, where I'd put them.\" Taking the other one from her, he shook his head. \"It's not real either.\" He took the third. \"Nor this one.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He looked at her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He has them, Egwene. He's stolen them back, somehow. The Dark One holds the keys to his own prison.\"\n\nFor much of Mat's life, he had wished that people would not look at him so much. They gave him frowns at the trouble he had ostensibly caused-trouble that really was not his fault-and glances of disapproval when he walked about completely innocent, trying his best to be pleasant. Every boy filched a pie now and then. No harm in it. It was practically expected.\n\nNormal life had been harder for Mat than for other boys. For no good reason, everyone watched him extra carefully. Perrin could have stolen pies all day, and people would have just smiled at him and maybe mussed his hair. Mat they came at with the broom.\n\nWhen he entered a place to dice, he drew looks. People watched him as they would watch a cheater-though he never was-or with envy in their eyes. Yes, he had always figured that not being watched would be a grand situation. A cause for real celebration.\n\nNow he had it, and it made him sick.\n\n\"You can look at me,\" Mat protested. \"Really. Burn you, it's all right!\"\n\n\"My eyes would be lowered,\" the serving woman said as she piled fabric on the low table against the wall.\n\n\"Your eyes are already lowered! They're staring at the bloody floor, aren't they? I want you to raise them.\"\n\nThe Seanchan continued her work. She was of fair skin with freckles under her eyes, not too bad to look at, though he was more in favor of darker shades these days. He still would not have minded if this girl showed him a smile. How could he talk to a woman if he could not try to make her smile?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A few other servants entered, eyes downcast, carrying other folds of fabric. Mat stood in what were apparently'his\" chambers in the palace. They were more numerous than he would ever need. Perhaps Talmanes and some of the Band could move in with him and keep the place from feeling so empty.\n\nMat sauntered over to the window. Below, in the Mol Hara, an army organized. It was going to take longer than he wanted. Galgan-Mat had only met the man briefly, and he did not trust the fellow, no matter what Tuon said about his assassins not being intended to succeed-was gathering the Seanchan forces from the borders, but too slowly. He worried about losing Almoth Plain with the withdrawal.\n\nWell, he had better listen to reason. Mat had little reason to like the man already, but if he delayed in this...\n\n\"Honored One?\" the serving girl asked.\n\nMat turned, raising an eyebrow. Several da'covale had entered with the last of the fabric, and Mat found himself blushing. They hardly wore any clothing at all, and what they did wear was transparent. He could look, though, could he not? They would not wear clothing like that if a man was not supposed to look. What would Tuon think?\n\nShe doesn't own me, Mat thought, determined. I will not be husbandly.\n\nThe freckled servant-she was so'jhin, half of her head shaved-gestured toward a person who had entered behind the da'covale, a middle-aged woman with her dark hair in a bun, none of her head shaved. She was squat, shaped kind of like a bell, with a grandmotherly air.\n\nThe newcomer inspected him. Finally someone who would look at him! If only her face did not have the expression of one studying horses at the market."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Black for his new station,\" the woman said, clapping her hands once."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Green for his heritage. A deep forest, in moderation. Someone bring me a variety of eyepatches, and someone else burn that hat.\"\n\n\"What?\" Mat exclaimed. Servants swarmed around him, picking at his clothing. \"Wait, now. What is this?\"\n\n\"Your new regalia, Honored One,\" the woman said. \"I am Nata, and I will be your personal tailor.\"\n\n\"You aren't burning my hat,\" Mat said. \"Try, and we'll bloody well see if you can fly from four stories up. Do you understand me?\"\n\nThe woman hesitated. \"Yes, Honored One. Do not burn his clothing. Keep it safe, should it be needed.\" She seemed doubtful it ever would be.\n\nMat opened his mouth to complain further, and then one of the da'covale opened a box. Jewelry shone inside it. Rubies, emeralds, firedrops. Mat's breath caught in his throat. There was a fortune in there!\n\nHe was so stunned that he almost did not notice that the servants were undressing him. They pulled at his shirt, and Mat let them. Although he held onto his scarf, he was not bashful. That blush on his cheeks had nothing to do with his trousers being taken off. He was just surprised at the jewelry.\n\nThen one of the young da'covale reached for Mat's smallclothes.\n\n\"You'd be real funny without any fingers,\" Mat growled.\n\nThe da'covale looked up-his eyes widening, face paling. He immediately looked down again, bowing, backing away. Mat was not bashful, but the smallclothes were far enough.\n\nNata clicked her tongue. Her servants began draping Mat in fine cloth, black and deep green-so dark it was nearly black itself. \"We shall tailor you outfits for military expression, court attendance, private functions, and civic appearances. It-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No,\" Mat said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Military only.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Were at the bloody Last Battle, woman,\" Mat said. \"If we survive this, you can make me a bloody feastday cap. Until then, were at war, and I don't need anything else.\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\nMat reluctantly stood with arms out to the sides, letting them drape him in the fabric, taking measurements. If he had to put up with this business of being called'Honored One\" and'Highness,\" then he could at least make certain he was dressed in a reasonable way.\n\nIn truth, he had been growing tired of the same old clothing. There did not seem to be much lace used by the Seanchan tailor, which was a shame, but Mat did not want to correct her in doing her job. He could not complain about every little thing. Nobody liked a complainer, least of all Mat.\n\nAs they dealt with the measurements, a servant approached with a small, velvet-lined case displaying a variety of eyepatches. He hesitated, considering; some were marked with gemstones, others painted with designs.\n\n\"That one,\" he said, pointing at the least ornamented patch. Simple black with only two small rubies, cut thin and long, set at the right and left edges of the patch opposite one another. They fitted it on him as the other servants finished measuring.\n\nThat done, the tailor had her servants dress him in a costume she had brought. Apparently, he was not going to be allowed back to his old clothing while he waited for his new outfits to be tailored.\n\nThe clothing started off simple enough. A silk robe of fine weave. Mat would have preferred trousers, but the robe was comfortable. However, they overlaid it with a larger, stiffer robe. It was also silk, of dark green, every inch of it embroidered with scrollwork patterns. The sleeves were large enough to trot a horse through, and they felt heavy and bulky."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the story forward in your role as narrative aide.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 1"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No,\" Mat said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Military only.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Were at the bloody Last Battle, woman,\" Mat said. \"If we survive this, you can make me a bloody feastday cap. Until then, were at war, and I don't need anything else.\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\nMat reluctantly stood with arms out to the sides, letting them drape him in the fabric, taking measurements. If he had to put up with this business of being called'Honored One\" and'Highness,\" then he could at least make certain he was dressed in a reasonable way.\n\nIn truth, he had been growing tired of the same old clothing. There did not seem to be much lace used by the Seanchan tailor, which was a shame, but Mat did not want to correct her in doing her job. He could not complain about every little thing. Nobody liked a complainer, least of all Mat.\n\nAs they dealt with the measurements, a servant approached with a small, velvet-lined case displaying a variety of eyepatches. He hesitated, considering; some were marked with gemstones, others painted with designs.\n\n\"That one,\" he said, pointing at the least ornamented patch. Simple black with only two small rubies, cut thin and long, set at the right and left edges of the patch opposite one another. They fitted it on him as the other servants finished measuring.\n\nThat done, the tailor had her servants dress him in a costume she had brought. Apparently, he was not going to be allowed back to his old clothing while he waited for his new outfits to be tailored.\n\nThe clothing started off simple enough. A silk robe of fine weave. Mat would have preferred trousers, but the robe was comfortable. However, they overlaid it with a larger, stiffer robe. It was also silk, of dark green, every inch of it embroidered with scrollwork patterns. The sleeves were large enough to trot a horse through, and they felt heavy and bulky."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I thought I said to give me warrior's clothing!\" he said.\n\n\"This is a ceremonial warrior's uniform fora member of the Imperial family, Highness,\" Nata said. \"Many will see you as an outsider, and though nobody would question your loyalty, it would be well for our soldiers to see you as Prince of the Ravens first and an outlander second. Would you agree?\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" Mat said.\n\nThe servants continued, buckling on an ornate girdle and placing forearm bands of the same design on his arms inside the large sleeves. That was all right, Mat supposed, as the girdle pulled in the waist of the clothing and kept it from feeling quite so bulky.\n\nUnfortunately, the next piece of clothing was the most ridiculous of all. The stiff, pale piece of cloth fitted onto his shoulders. It draped down his front and back like a tabard, the sides open, but they flared out to the sides a good foot each, making him seem inhumanly wide. They were like shoulder plates from heavy armor, only made of cloth.\n\n\"Here now,\" Mat said. \"This isn't a kind of trick you play on a fellow, just because he's new, is it?\"\n\n\"Trick, Honored One?\" Nata asked.\n\n\"You can't really. .\" Mat trailed off as someone passed outside his door. Another commander. The man was wearing a costume not unlike Mat's, though not as ornate, and with shoulders not quite as wide. Not Imperial family armor, but ceremonial armor for one of the Blood. Still, it was almost as lavish.\n\nThe man stopped and bowed to Mat, then continued on his way.\n\n\"Burn me,\" Mat said.\n\nNata clapped and the servants began draping Mat in gemstones. They chose mostly rubies, which made Mat uncomfortable. That had to be a coincidence, did it not? He did not know what he thought of being covered in all of these gemstones. Perhaps he could sell them. Actually, if he could put these on a gambling table, he could probably end up owning all of Ebou Dar..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tuon already owns it, he realized."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And I married her. It sank in that he was rich. Really rich.\n\nHe sat there, letting them lacquer his fingernails, as he considered what this all meant. Oh, he had not needed to worry about money for sometime, as he could always gamble for more. This was different. If he already had everything, what point was thereto gambling? This did not sound like much fun. People were not supposed to give you things like this. You were supposed to find away to come to them yourself, by wits, luck or skill.\n\n\"Burn me,\" Mat said, lowering his arms to his side as the lacquering finished. \"I'm a bloody nobleman.\" He sighed, plucking his hat from the hands of a startled servant-who was walking past with his old clothing-and set it on his head.\n\n\"Honored One,\" Nata said. \"Please forgive my forwardness, but it is my place to advise on fashion, if you please. That hat looks... particularly out of place with that uniform.\"\n\n\"Who cares?\" Mat said, marching out of the room. He almost had to go out the door sideways! \"If I'm going to look ridiculous, I might as well do it with style. Someone point me toward where our flaming generals are meeting. I need to figure out how many troops we have.\"\n\nCHAPTER\n\nInto Thakari'dar\n\nLater in the day after her meeting with Rand, Egwene thrust Vora's sa'angreal out in front of her and wove Fire. Threads came together, tiny glowing ribbons forming a complex weave in the air before her. She could almost feel their heat shining upon her, turning her skin a violent orange.\n\nShe finished the weave, and a fiery ball as large as a boulder arced in the air, crackling and roaring. It fell upon the distant hilltop like a meteor. The blast flung bow-wielding Trollocs aside, scattering their carcasses."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Romanda opened a gateway beside Egwene. Romanda was among the Yellows who had insisted on staying at the battlefront to provide emergency Healing. She and her small crew had been invaluable in saving lives.\n\nToday, however, there would be no opportunity for Healing. The Trollocs had pulled back into the hills, as Bryne had indicated they would. After a day and a half of rest, many of the Aes Sedai were recovered. Not to full strength-not after over a week of grueling combat-but enough.\n\nGawyn jumped through the gateway right after it opened, his sword out. Egwene followed, along with Romanda, Lelaine, Leane, Silviana, Raemassa and a handful of Warders and soldiers. They stepped out onto the very hilltop Egwene had just cleared. The charred earth was still warm under her feet, blackened; the scent of burned flesh hung in the air.\n\nThis hill was in the very middle of the Trolloc army. All around, Shad-owspawn scrambled for safety this way and that. Romanda held the gateway and Silviana began weaving Air to create a dome of wind against arrows. The rest of them began to send weaves outward.\n\nThe Trollocs reacted slowly-they'd been waiting here, in these hills, ready to surge down into the valleys as Egwene's army entered. Normally, this would have been a disaster. The Trollocs could rain projectiles down on Egwene's troops, and her cavalry would have been at a disadvantage trying to getup those hills. The hilltops would have given the Trollocs and Fades a better perspective to spot weak points in Egwene's forces, and attack accordingly.\n\nEgwene and her commanders had been disinclined to give the enemy that advantage. The beasts scattered as the battle reversed on them, Aes Sedai seizing the hilltops. Some of the beasts tried to charge up and retake them, but others scrambled away for their lives. Egwene's heavy cavalry came next, thundering through the valleys. What had once been a very efficient position for the Trollocs became a killing field; with the Trolloc archers removed by Aes Sedai, the heavy cavalry could kill practically unmolested."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That opened the way for the foot, who marched information to sweep the Trollocs back, smashing them against hillsides so that the Aes Sedai could kill them in groups. Unfortunately, the Trollocs had grown more accustomed to facing the One Power. Either that, or the Myrddraal had grown more thorough at encouraging them.\n\nSoon, more coordinated groups of Trollocs charged the hilltops, while others managed to form resistance to the foot assault. Bryne is right, Egwene thought, leveling a contingent of Trollocs that had almost clawed their way to her. The Fades are linked to the Trollocs again. The Shadowspawn had been hesitant to use that tactic recently, as killing the Fade would drop all linked Trollocs. However, she suspected that it was the only way they could make the Trollocs climb toward almost-certain death on these hills.\n\nIf she could find the Myrddraal linked to the Trollocs nearby, she could stop them all with one well-placed weave of Fire. Unfortunately, the Fades were crafty, and had begun hiding among the Trollocs.\n\n\"They're closing in,\" Lelaine said, panting.\n\n\"Fallback,\" Egwene said.\n\nThey ducked through Romanda's gateway, followed by their Warders. Romanda came last, leaping through as a group of Trollocs claimed their hilltop. One of the beasts, a shaggy-furred bearlike monstrosity, stumbled through the gateway after her.\n\nThe thing dropped dead immediately, a faint wisp of smoke rising from its carcass. Its fellows hooted and growled on the other side. Egwene glanced at the other women, then shrugged and released flame straight through the gateway. A few fell dead, twitching, while the others scrambled away, howling, dropping their weapons."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That is effective,\" Leane noted, folding her arms and raising an immaculate eyebrow at the gateway. It was the middle of the Last Battle, and the woman still took time each morning to do her face.\n\nTheir gateway had taken them back to camp, which was now mostly empty. With the reserves formed up and ready to move when required, the only soldiers who remained in the camp were a force of five hundred guarding Bryne's command tent.\n\nShe still carried the pouch with the false seals at her side. Rands words had shaken her hard. How would they get the seals back? If the minions of the Shadow broke them at the wrong time, it would be a catastrophe.\n\nHad they broken them already? Would the world know? Egwene felt a dread she could not abandon. And yet, the war continued, and she had no recourse but to keep fighting. They would think of away to recover the seals, if they could. Rand swore to try. She wasn't certain what he could do.\n\n\"They're fighting so hard,\" Gawyn said.\n\nEgwene turned to find him standing a short distance away, inspecting the battlefield with his looking glass. She felt a longing from him. Without some men to lead as he had the Younglings, she knew, he felt useless in these battles.\n\n\"The Trollocs are driven by Myrddraal,\" Egwene said, \"linked to give the Fades greater control over them.\"\n\n\"Yes, but why resist so strongly?\" Gawyn said, still looking through the glass. \"They don't care about this land. It's obvious that these hills are lost to them, and yet they fight savagely. Trollocs are base-they fight and win or they scatter and retreat. They don't hold land. They're trying to do so here. It's like... like the Fades think that even after a rout like this one, they're in a good position.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who knows why Fades do what they do?\" Lelaine remarked, arms folded, looking through the still-open gateway.\n\nEgwene turned, looking through it, too. The hilltop was now empty, strangely isolated amid the battle. Her soldiers had crashed up against the Trollocs in the small valley between the hills, and the fighting was brutal down there. She heard grunts, yells, clangs. Bloodied pikes were raised in the air as a group of men were forced back, and halberdiers moved into try to slow the Trollocs.\n\nThe Shadowspawn were taking terrible casualties. It was an oddity; Bryne had expected them to retreat.\n\n\"Something's wrong,\" Egwene said, the hairs of her arms standing on\n\nend. Her worry about the seals vanished, for now. Her army was in danger. \"Gather the Aes Sedai and have the army pullback.\"\n\nThe other women looked at her as if she were mad. Gawyn took off at a dash toward the command tent to give her orders. He didn't question.\n\n\"Mother,\" Romanda said, letting her gateway die. \"What is-\"\n\nSomething split the air on the other side of Egwene's war camp, opposite the battlefield. Aline of light, longer than any gateway Egwene had seen. It was nearly as wide as her camp itself.\n\nThe line of light turned upon itself, opening a view that was not of southern Kandor. Instead, it was a place of ferns and drooping trees-though they were brown, like everything else, they were still alien and unfamiliar.\n\nAn enormous army stood silently upon this unfamiliar landscape. Thousands of banners flew above it, emblazoned with symbols Egwene didn't recognize. The foot soldiers wore knee-length garments that appeared to be some kind of padded armor, reinforced with chain in a large-squared pattern. Others wore metal shirts that seemed sewn from coins tied together."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Many carried hand axes, though of a very strange design. They had long, thin handles that bulged like bulbs at the end and the axe heads were narrow and thin, almost like picks. The hafts of all of their weapons-from polearms to swords-had a flowing, organic design. Smooth and not of a uniform width, made of some dark redwood that had been painted with colorful dots down the sides.\n\nEgwene took in all of this in moments, her mind searching for any kind of origin for this strange force. She found nothing to latch onto until she sensed the channeling. The glow of saidar surrounded hundreds of women, all of them riding, wearing strange dresses made entirely of stiff black silk. The dresses were not tied at the waists, but instead pulled relatively tight around the shoulders, and flared wide toward the bottoms. Long, rectangular tassels of a multitude of colors hung from ties at the front, just below the neck. The faces of the women were all tattooed.\n\n\"Release the Power,\" Egwene said, letting goof saidar. \"Don't let them sense you!\" She dashed to the side, Lelaine following, the glow winking out from around her.\n\nRomanda ignored Egwene, letting out a curse. She began weaving a gateway to escape.\n\nA dozen different weaves of fire suddenly thrashed the area where Romanda stood. The woman didn't have a chance to scream. Egwene and the other women scrambled through the camp as weaves of the One Power destroyed tents, consumed supplies and set the entire place aflame.\n\nhead then crashed into a collection! f J Zty\"^ , US\"\n\nLight! Gawyn said. \"What is it?\"\n\ndown bside them-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "^^ Z d^ \"in tZZ f n^ e^, n\" n d efore the Aiel War are\n\nthey did see looked a lot like that army.\"\" ** but What\n\ntrfis/0 Ti* and^ ^ **\n\nthemr and bioody aste! \"^ pinned between them alid'the\n\n** Bn, , u! k co dism? 8e the tr°° ps\" g^-^\n\nbehind! light We'll be\" n'ha\" arm! '\n\n\"±: z dn; r kly-Hed send a* *\"*\n\ntr t e\" rent\n\ndirection. , ed out' duc Wm the other\n\n:: TatKred shrcds<-----5* *\"*\n\nthat hST^ baCk T d' and Gawy'pulIed h\" a toppled cart\n\n££ X l'et! S: Lce'rde\" ^ \"\n\nbeside the tumble of wood They huddled'rh\"* 15\"'l\" \" edge° fthe cart\n\nstaff. „ , nS, de tha'al° n* With Yukir\" \"\" d of their comma^ earth% Th ne<; h nd GaWy'h, d as fl\"™ s™* don the camp, tearing up the who ran by waeiLZdy\" mmolattd^ mmmmCi SeVerai servin*\n\n\"Be ready to run,\" Gawyn said, \"once the fire stops falling.\"\n\nThe flames did wane, but just as they did, riders in Sharan armor charged through the camp. They hooted and yelled, leveling bows at anyone they saw, dropping dozens with arrows to the back. After that, the Sharan troops moved through the camp in tight formations. Egwene waited tensely, trying to think of how to slip away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She saw no opportunity. Gawyn pulled Egwene back farther, rubbed soot on her cheeks and motioned for her to stay low, then draped his Warder cloak over them both. With the smoke from the wood burning nearby, perhaps they wouldn't be seen.\n\nHer heart thumped urgently in her chest. Gawyn pressed something to her face, a kerchief he had soaked with his waterskin. He held another one to his face and breathed through it. She took the one he was holding to her, but barely breathed. Those soldiers were so dose.\n\nOne of the soldiers turned toward the cart, peering at the woodpile, but when he glanced through the smoke toward them he didn't seem to see anything. Egwene silently contemplated the Warder cloak. Its color-shifting nature made them nearly invisible, if they were careful not to move.\n\nWhy don't I have one of these doaks? she thought with annoyance. Why should they only be for Warders?\n\nThe soldiers were busy flushing out servants. Those who ran, they killed with arrows from bows that stretched extremely far. Servants who moved more slowly, they rounded up and forced to the ground.\n\nEgwene longed to embrace the Source, to do something. To bring down fire and lightning upon these invaders. She still had Vora's sa'angreal. She could-\n\nShe quashed that line of thinking. She was surrounded by the enemy, and the swift reaction of the channelers indicated that they were watching for Aes Sedai. If she wove fora single moment, she'd be killed before she could escape. She huddled beside Gawyn, under his cloak, hoping none of the Sharan channelers walked close enough to sense her ability. She could use a weave to hide that ability, but would have to channel first to use it. Dared she try that?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They hid fora good hour or more. If the cloud cover hadn't been so complete, casting the land into perpetual twilight, they'd certainly have been spotted, cloak or no cloak. She almost cried out atone point when a few of the Sharan soldiers tossed some buckets of water onto the woodpile, stifling the fire and soaking both of them.\n\nShe couldn't make out anything of her own army, though she feared the worst. The Sharan channelers and a large portion of their army moved\n\nthrough the camp quickly, toward the battlefield. With Bryne and the\n\nAmyrlin gone, and with a surprise force coming in from behind...\n\nEgwene felt sick. How many were dying, dead? Gawyn caught her arm\n\nas he felt her stir, then shook his head, mouthing a few words. Wait until night.\n\nThey're dying! she mouthed.\n\nYou can't help.\n\nIt was true. She let him hold her, letting his familiar scent calm her. But how could she simply wait as soldiers and Aes Sedai who depended on her were slaughtered? Light, a huge portion of the White Tower was out there! If this army fell, and those women with it...\n\nI am the Amyrlin Seat, she told herself firmly. I will be strong. I will survive. So long as I live, the White Tower stands.\n\nShe still let Gawyn hold her.\n\nAviendha crawled across the rock like a winter lizard seeking warmth. Her fingertips, though callused, were beginning to burn from the bitter cold. Shayol Ghul was cold, with air that smelled as if it came from a tomb.\n\nRhuarc crawled to her left, a Stone Dog named Shaen to her right. Both wore the red headband of the siswai'aman. She didn't know what to make of Rhuarc, a clan chief, donning that headband. He had never spoken of it; it was as if the headband did not exist. So it was with all of the siswai'aman. Amys crawled on Shaen's right. For once, no one had objected to Wise Ones joining the advance scouts. Ina place such as this, at a time such as this, the eyes of one who could channel might see what ordinary eyes would not."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aviendha pulled herself forward, making no noise, despite the necklaces she wore. No plants sprouted on these rocks, not even mold or lichen. They were deep within the Blasted Lands, now. Almost as deep as one could go.\n\nRhuarc reachcd the ridge first, and she saw him tense. Aviendha arrived next, peering over the side of the rock, keeping low so as not to be seen. Her breath stopped dead in her throat.\n\nShed heard stories of this place. Of the massive forge near the base of the slope, a single black stream running past it. That water had been poisoned to the point that it would kill any who touched it. Hearths dotted the valley like open wounds, reddening the fog around them. As a young Maiden, shed listened with wide eyes as an ancient roofmistress told of the creatures who worked the Shadows forges, creatures that were not dead and\n\nnot alive. Silent and horrible, the brutish things moved with steps that held no life-like the ticking hands of a clock.\n\nThe forgers paid little heed to the cages full of humans whose blood would be spilled to temper newly forged blades. The captives might as well have been chunks of iron. Though Aviendha was too far to hear the humans' whimpers, she felt them. Her fingers grew taut upon the rocks.\n\nShayol Ghul itself dominated the valley, its black slopes rising like a serrated knife into the sky. The sides were rent with cuts, like the skin of a man who had been whipped a hundred times, each score leaving a gash that spat steam. Perhaps that steam created the fog that layover the valley. The fog churned and surged, as if the valley were a cup holding liquid."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Such a terrible place,\" Amys whispered.\n\nAviendha had never heard such dread in the woman's voice. That chilled Aviendha nearly as much as the bitter wind that ruffled their clothing. Distant pings broke the air, the workers forging. A black column of smoke rose from the nearest forge, and did not dissipate. It rose like an umbilical cord to the clouds above, which rained down lightning with dreadful frequency.\n\nYes, Aviendha had heard stories of this place. Those stories had failed to convey the full truth. One could not describe this place. One had to experience it.\n\nA scraping from behind, and in a few moments, Rodel Ituralde crawled up next to Rhuarc. He moved quietly, fora wetlander.\n\n\"You were so impatient that you could not await our report?\" Rhuarc asked softly.\n\n\"No report can convey what a man's own eyes can,\" Ituralde said. \"I didn't promise I'd stay behind. I told you to go ahead. And you did.\" He raised his looking glass, shading the front with his hand, though that probably wasn't necessary with those clouds.\n\nRhuarc frowned. He and the other Aiel who had come north had agreed to follow a wetlander general, but it did not sit well with them. Nor should it. They would do this thing without growing comfortable. Comfort was the great killer of men.\n\nLet it be enough, Aviendha thought, turning back to look at the valley. Enough for my people. Enough for Rand and the task he ynust accomplish.\n\nSeeing the end of her people had nauseated and horrified her, but also awakened her. If the end of the Aiel was the sacrifice required for Rand to win, she would make it. She would scream and curse the Creator's own name, but she would pay that price. Any warrior would. Better that one people should end than the world fall completely under Shadow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Light willing, it would not come to that."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Light willing, her actions with the Dragons Peace would serve to protect and shelter the Aiel. She would not let the possibility of failure stop her. They would fight. Waking from the dream was always a possibility when the spears were danced.\n\n\"Interesting,\" Ituralde said softly, still looking through his glass. \"Your thoughts, Aiel?\"\n\n\"We need to create a distraction,\" Rhuarc said. \"We can comedown the slope just to the east of the forge and set those captives free and break the place apart. This stops the Myrddraal from receiving new weapons and will keep the Dark Ones eyes onus and not the Car'a\"carn\"\n\n\"How long will it take the Dragon?\" Ituralde asked. \"What do you think, Aiel? How much time do we give him to save the world?\"\n\n\"He will fight,\" Amys said. \"Enter the mountain, duel with Sight-blinder. It will take as long as a fight needs to take. A few hours, perhaps? I have not seen a duel last much longer than that, even between two men of great skill.\"\n\n\"Let us assume,\" Ituralde said with a smile, \"that there is going to be more to it than a duel.\"\n\n\"I am not a fool, Rodel Ituralde,\" Amys said coolly. \"I doubt that the Car'a\"carris fight will be one of spears and shields. However, when he cleansed the Source, did that not happen in the space of a single day? Perhaps this will be similar.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Ituralde said. \"Perhaps not.\" He lowered the glass and looked to the Aiel. \"Which possibility would you rather plan for?\"\n\n\"The worst one,\" Aviendha said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So we plan to holdout as long as the Dragon needs,\" Ituralde said. \"Days, weeks, months... years? As long as it takes.\"\n\nRhuarc nodded slowly. \"What do you suggest?\"\n\n\"The pass into the valley is narrow,\" Ituralde said. \"Scout reports put most of the Shadowspawn left in the Blight out beyond the pass there. Even they spend as little time as they can in this forsaken place. If we can close off the pass and seize this valley-destroy those forgeworkers and the few Fades down there-we could hold this place forages. You Aiel are good at slash-and-run tactics. Burn me, but I know that from personal experience. You lot attack that forge, and we'll set about closing up the pass.\"\n\nRhuarc nodded. \"It is a good plan.\"\n\nThe four of them walked down the ridge to where Rand waited, dressed in red and gold, arms behind his back, accompanied by a force of twenty Maidens and six Asha'man, plus Nynaeve and Moiraine. He seemed very troubled by something-she could feel his anxiety-though he should have\n\nbeen pleased. He had convinced the Seanchan to fight. What was it that, in his meeting with Egwene al'Vere, had disturbed him so?\n\nRand turned and looked upward, toward the peak of Shayol Ghul. Staring at it, his emotions changed. He seemed a man looking at a fountain in the Three-fold Land, savoring the idea of cool water. Aviendha could feel his anticipation. There was also fear in him, of course. No warrior ever rid himself completely of the fear. He controlled it, overwhelmed it with the thirst to be on with the fight, to test himself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Men or women could not know themselves, not truly, until they were strained to their absolute limit."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Until they danced the spears with death, felt their blood seeping out to stain the ground, and drove the weapon home into the beating heart of an enemy. Rand al'Thor wanted this, and she understood him because of it. Strange to realize, after all of this time, just how alike they were.\n\nShe stepped up to him, and he moved so that he stood just beside her, his shoulder touching hers. He did not drape an arm around her, and she did not take his hand. He did not own her, and she did not own him. The act of his movement so that they faced the same direction meant far more to her than any other gesture could.\n\n\"Shade of my heart,\" he said softly, watching his Asha'man open a gateway, \"what did you see?\"\n\n\"A tomb,\" she replied.\n\n\"Mine?\"\n\n\"No. That of your enemy. The place where he was buried once, and the place he will slumber again.\"\n\nSomething hardened inside Rand. She could feel it, his resolve.\n\n\"You mean to kill him,\" Aviendha whispered. \"Sightblinder himself.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nShe waited.\n\n\"Others tell me I am a fool for thinking this,\" Rand said. His guards moved through the gateway to return to Merrilor.\n\n\"No warrior should enter a battle without intending to see that battle finished,\" Aviendha said. She hesitated after saying it, something else occurring to her.\n\n\"What is it?\" Rand asked.\n\n\"Well, the greatest victory would be to take your enemy gai'shain.\"\n\n\"I doubt he would submit to that,\" Rand said.\n\n\"Don't make jest,\" she said, elbowing him in the side, earning a grunt. \" This must be considered, Rand al'Thor. Which is the better way of ji'e\"toh?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Is imprisoning the Dark One like taking him gai'shain?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If so, that would be the proper path.\"\n\n\"I'm not certain I care what is proper\" this time, Aviendha.\"\n\nI\n\n\"A warrior must always consider ji'e\"toh,\" she said sternly. \"Have I taught you nothing? Do not speak like that, or you will shame me again before the other Wise Ones.\"\n\n\"I had hoped that-considering how our relationship has progressed-we would be through with the lectures, Aviendha.\"\n\n\"You thought that growing closer tome would end the lectures?\" she asked, baffled. Rand al'Thor, I have been among wetlander wives, and I've seen that they-\"\n\nHe shook his head, leading the way through the gateway, Aviendha following. He seemed amused, and that was good. Some of his anxiety had faded. But truly, this was not a jest. Wetlanders did not have good senses of humor. Sometimes, they did not understand at all when to laugh.\n\nOn the other side of the gateway, they entered a camp made up of many groups. Rand had command of the Maidens and the siswai'aman, along with most of the Wise Ones.\n\nJust outside of the Aiel camp were the Aes Sedai. Rand had command of some three dozen-all of the Aes Sedai who had sworn to him personally, and most who were bonded to his Asha'man. That meant another two dozen Asha'man, of various ranks.\n\nHe also had Rodel Ituralde and his force, composed primarily of Domani. Their king, with his wispy beard and the beauty mark on his cheek, rode with them as well, but left the command to the great captain. The monarch gestured, and Ituralde walked over to give a report. Alsalam seemed uncomfortable around Rand, and did not goon any excursions when the Dragon did. Aviendha liked that arrangement. She wasn't certain she trusted this Alsalam."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Outside the Aiel tents camped another large military force, the Tairen army, including the elite force known as the Defenders of the Stone, led by a man named Rodrivar Tihera. Their king was with them as well, and was generally considered the highest authority in their gathered armies, aside from Rand.\n\nThe Tairens would form a key part of Rodel Ituralde's plans. As much as it galled Aviendha to admit it, Ituralde was right. The Aiel were not a defensive force, and though they could hold a pass if needed, they would be better used for offensive maneuvers.\n\nThe Tairens would be perfect for holding ground. They had well-trained\n\ncompanies of pikemen, and a full banner of crossbowmen with anew kind of crossbow crank, knowledge of which the smiths had only just received. They had spent the last week converting the equipment to the new style.\n\nThere was one other group in Rand s force, and it was the most baffling to Aviendha. Dragonsworn in large numbers. They camped together, and flew a flag that placed the image of the dragon over the ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai. The group was made up of common men, soldiers, lords, ladies and some Aes Sedai and Warders. They came from all nations, including the Aiel, and shared only one common bond: They had put aside all loyalties, broken all bonds, to fight in the Last Battle. Aviendha had heard discomforting rumors that many of the Aiel among them were gai'shain who had put aside the white, claiming they would take it up again when the Last Battle was won.\n\nRands coming was said to remove all bonds from men. Oaths shattered when he drew near, and any loyalty or alliance was secondary to the need to serve him in this last fight for humankind. Part of her wanted to name that wetlander foolishness, but perhaps she used that term too easily. A Wise One had to see with better eyes than that."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Now that they were on the other side of the gateway, Aviendha finally allowed herself to release saidar. The world dulled around her, the added sense of life and wonder evaporating. Every time she released the One Power, she felt slightly hollow, the joy and thrill now passed, over.\n\nIturalde and Rhuarc went to join King Darlin, speaking together about their battle plans. Aviendha joined Rand as he walked toward his tent.\n\n\"The dagger worked,\" Rand said. He reached down and fingered the black sheath that held the dull dagger. \"Artham. I had heard them spoken of, back in the Age of Legends, but nobody created one. I wonder who finally managed it...\"\n\n\"Are you certain it worked?\" Aviendha said. \"He could have been watching you, but not exposed his hand.\"\n\n\"No, I would have felt the attention,\" Rand said. \"It did work. With this, he won't sense me until I step right up to the Bore. Once he does know I'm there, he will have trouble envisioning me, striking at me directly. Aviendha, that you should find this and identify it when you did, that Elayne should give it tome... The Pattern weaves us all where we need to be.\" Rand smiled, then added, \"Elayne sounded sad when she gave me the dagger. I think apart of her wanted to keep it because it would let her curse by the Dark One's name without drawing his attention.\"\n\n\"Is this really a time for levity?\" Aviendha asked, scowling at him.\n\n\"If ever there was a need for laughter, this is it,\" Rand said, though the laughter seemed to have left his voice. That anxiety of his returned as they reached his tent."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What is troubling you?\" Aviendha asked him.\n\n\"They have the seals,\" Rand said.\n\n\"What!\"\n\n\"Only Egwene knows, but it is true. They were stolen, perhaps from my hiding place, perhaps after I delivered them to Egwene.\"\n\n\"Then they are broken.\"\n\n\"No,\" Rand said. \"I would feel that. I think they must be waiting. Perhaps they know that in breaking the seals, they clear the way for me to reforge his prison. They'll break them at just the wrong moment, to let the Dark One touch the world, perhaps to give him the strength to overwhelm meas I face him...\"\n\n\"We will find away to stop this,\" Aviendha said, voice firm.\n\nHe looked to her and smiled. \"Always the warrior.\"\n\n\"Of course.\" What else would she be?\n\n\"I have another concern. The Forsaken will try to strike at me when I enter to face him. The Dark One cannot see me, does not know where I am, and so is committing some of his forces to each of the different battlefronts. The Shadow pushes hard at Lan, trying to destroy him-the Dark One presses Elayne almost as badly in Cairhien. Only Egwene seems to behaving some success.\n\n\"He searches for meat each of these battlefields, committing his creatures in large numbers. When we attack Shayol Ghul, we should be able to hold the valley against armies. The Forsaken, however, will come through gateways. Holding a pass will not stop them, or the Dreadlords, male or female. My confrontation with the Dark One will draw them as the cleansing did-only a thousand times more urgently. They will come, with fire and thunder, and they will kill.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So will we.\"\n\n\"Fm counting on it,\" Rand said. \"But I cannot afford to take you into the cavern with me, Aviendha.\"\n\nShe felt a sinking feeling, though she attacked it, stabbed it, left it to die. \"I suspected. Do not think to send me away to safety, Rand al'Thor. You would-\"\n\n\"I wouldn't dare,\" he said. \" I'd fear for my life if I were to try-there isn't anyplace that is safe, now. I cannot take you into the cavern because you will be needed out in the valley, watching for the Forsaken and the seals. I need you, Aviendha. I need all three of you to watch, to be my hands-my heart-during this fight. I am going to send Min to Egwene. Something is going to happen there, I'm certain. Elayne will fight in the south, and you... I need you in the valley of Thakan'dar, watching my back.\n\n\"I will leave orders for the Aes Sedai and Asha'man, Aviendha. Ituralde leads our troops, but you command our channelers at Shayol Ghul. You must keep the enemy from entering the cavern after me. You are my spear in this battle. If they reach me while I am in the cavern, I will be helpless. What I must do will take all of me-all of my concentration, every scrap of power I have. I'll be like a babe lying in the wilderness, defenseless against the beasts.\"\n\n\"And how is this different from how you usually are, Rand al'Thor?\" she asked.\n\nHe laughed. It felt good to be able to both see and feel that smile. \"I thought you said this wasn't a time for levity.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Someone must keep you humble,\" Aviendha said. \"It would not do for you to think yourself something grand, simply because you save the world.\" He laughed again, leading her up to the tent where Min was. Nynaeve and Moiraine waited there, too, one with annoyance on her face, the other serenity. Nynaeve looked very odd with her hair not long enough to braid. Today, she'd pulled it up and pinned it back.\n\nMoiraine sat quietly on a large stone, Callandor-the Sword That Is Not a Sword-lying across her lap, one hand resting protectively on its hilt. Thom sat beside her, whittling a stick and whistling softly to himself.\n\n\"You should have taken me, Rand,\" Nynaeve said, folding her arms. \"You had work to do,\" Rand said. \"You have tried as I instructed?\" \"Time and time again,\" Nynaeve said. \"There's noway around the flaw, Rand. You cannot use Callandor. It will be too dangerous.\"\n\nRand came up to Moiraine, reaching out his hand, and she lifted Callandor for him to take. He raised it up before him, looking through its crystalline substance. It started to glow softly. \"Min, I have a task for you,\" he whispered. \"Egwene is progressing well, and I feel her battlefront will be key. I wish you to go and watch her and the Seanchan Empress, whom I have asked to join that battlefront once their forces are ready.\"\n\n\"You would have the Seanchan join Egwene's battlefront?\" Moiraine asked, aghast. \"Is that wise?\"\n\n\"I cannot tell wisdom from brashness these days,\" Rand said. \"But I would feel better if someone were keeping an eye on those two factions. Min, will you do it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I was hoping...\" Min looked away.\n\nHoping he'd take her into the cavern, Aviendha thought. But of course he could not.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Min,\" Rand said. \"But I need you.\"\n\n\"I will do it.\"\n\n\"Rand,\" Nynaeve said. \" You are taking Callandor when you attack him? Its weakness... so long as you are channeling into that... thing, anyone can seize control of you. They can use you, and can draw the One Power through Callandor into you until it burns you out-leaving you powerless, and leaving them with the strength to level mountains, destroy cities.\n\n\"I will take it,\" Rand said.\n\n\"But it's a trap!\" Nynaeve said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Rand said, sounding tired. \"A trap I must stride into and allow to spring shut upon me.\" He laughed, suddenly, throwing his head back. \"As always! Why should I be surprised? Spread the word, Nynaeve. Tell Ituralde, Rhuarc, King Darlin. Tomorrow, we invade Shayol Ghul and claim it as our own! If we must put our head into the lion's mouth, let us make certain that he chokes upon our flesh!\"\n\nCHAPTER\n\nNot a Mistake to Ignore\n\nSiuan rolled her shoulder. She grimaced at the sharp pain. \"Yukiri,\" she grumbled, \"that weave of yours still needs work.\"\n\nThe tiny Gray cursed softly, standing up from beside a soldier who had lost his hand. She hadn't Healed him, instead leaving him to more mundane healers with bandages. To spend energy Healing this man would be a waste, as he would never fight again. They needed to save their strength for soldiers who could rejoin the battle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was brutal reasoning."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Well, these were brutal times. Siuan and Yukiri moved onto the next soldier in the line of wounded. The man with the missing hand would survive without Healing. Probably. They had the Yellows in Mayene, but their energy was consumed in Healing Aes Sedai who had survived the escape and soldiers who could still fight.\n\nAll through the makeshift camp, setup on Arafellin soil east of the river's ford, soldiers wept and groaned. So many wounded, and Siuan and Yukiri were among the few Aes Sedai left with any strength to Heal. Most of the others had drained themselves making gateways to bring their army out from between the two attacking forces.\n\nThe Sharans had attacked aggressively, but securing the White Tower's camp had occupied them fora while, giving time for the army to flee. Pieces of it, at least.\n\nYukiri Delved the next man, then nodded. Siuan knelt down and began a Healing weave. She'd never been very good at this, and even with an angreal, it took a lot out of her. She brought the soldier back from the edge of death, Healing the wound in his side. He gasped, much of the energy for the Healing coming from his own body.\n\nSiuan wavered, then fell to her knees in exhaustion. Light, she was as unsteady as a noblewoman her first day on the deck of a ship!\n\nYukiri looked her over, then reached out for the angreal, a small stone flower. \"Go rest, Siuan.\"\n\nSiuan clenched her teeth, but handed over the angreal. The One Power slipped from her, and she let out a deep sigh, half-relieved and half-saddened at losing the beauty of saidar."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yukiri moved to the next soldier. Siuan lay back where she was, her body complaining of its numerous bruises and aches. The events of the battle were a blur to her. She remembered young Gawyn Trakand bursting into the command tent, yelling that Egwene wanted the army to retreat.\n\nBryne had moved quickly, dropping a written order through the gateway in the floor. That was his newest method of passing commands-an arrow shaft with a note and along ribbon tied to it, dropped through a gateway high above. There were no heads on the shafts, just a small stone to weight them.\n\nBryne had been restless before Gawyn appeared. He hadn't liked the way the battle had been playing out. The way the Trollocs moved had warned him that the Shadow had been planning something. Siuan was certain he'd already prepared the orders.\n\nThen there had been the explosions in camp. And Yukiri yelling for them to jump through the hole in the floor. Light, she'd assumed the woman was mad! Mad enough to save all of their lives, apparently.\n\nBurn me if I'm going to lie here like apiece of yesterday's catch on the deck, Siuan thought, staring up at the sky. She hauled herself to her feet and started stalking through the new camp.\n\nYukiri claimed her weave wasn't all that obscure, though Siuan had never heard of it. A massive cushion of Air, meant to cradle someone who had fallen a great distance. Crafting it had drawn the attention of the Sharans-Sharans, of all things!-but they'd escaped. She, Bryne, Yukiri and a few aides. Burn her, they'd gotten out, though that fall still made her wince to remember. And Yukiri kept saying she thought the weave might be the secret behind discovering how to fly! Fool woman. There was a good reason the Creator hadn't given people wings."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She found Bryne at the edge of the new camp, sitting exhausted on a\n\nstump. Two battle maps spread out by stones lay on the ground in front of him. The maps were wrinkled; he'd grabbed them as the tent started to explode around him.\n\nFool man, she thought. Risking his life fora couple of pieces ofpaper.\n\n... from reports,\"said General Haerm, the new commander of the II-lianer Companions.\" I'm sorry, my Lord. The scouts don't dare sneak too close to the old camp.\"\n\n\"No sign of the Amyrlin?\" Siuan asked.\n\nBryne and Haerm both shook their heads.\n\n\"Keep looking, young man.\" Siuan wagged a finger at Haerm. He raised an eyebrow at her use of the word'young.\" Burn this youthful face she'd been given. \"I mean it. The Amyrlin is alive. You find her, you hear me?\"\n\n\"I... Yes, Aes Sedai.\" He showed some measure of respect, but not enough. These Illianers didn't know how to treat Aes Sedai.\n\nBryne waved the man off, and for once, it didn't look as if anyone was waiting to meet with him. Everyone was probably too exhausted. Their'camp\" looked more like a collection of refugees from a terrible fire than it did an army. Most of the men had rolled themselves in cloaks and gone to sleep. Soldiers were better than sailors at sleeping whenever, and wherever, they could.\n\nShe couldn't blame them. She'd been exhausted before the Sharans arrived. Now she was tired as death itself. She sat down on the ground beside Bryne's stump.\n\n\"Arm still hurting you?\" Bryne asked, reaching down to rub her shoulder. \"You can feel that it is,\" Siuan grumbled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Merely trying to be pleasant, Siuan.\"\n\n\"Don't think I have forgotten that you're to blame for this bruise.\"\n\n\"Me?\" Bryne said, sounding amused.\n\n\"You pushed me through the hole.\"\n\n\"You didn't seem ready to move.\"\n\n\"I was just about to jump. I was almost there.\"\n\n\"I'm certain,\" Bryne said.\n\n\"It's your fault,\" Siuan insisted. \"I tumbled. I hadn't intended to tumble. And Yukiri's weave... horrible thing.\"\n\n\"It worked,\" Bryne said. \"I doubt many people can claim to have fallen three hundred paces and survived.\"\n\n\"She was too eager,\" Siuan said. \"She was probably longing to make us jump, you know. All that talk about Traveling and weaves of movement...\" She trailed off, partly because she was annoyed at herself. This day had gone\n\npoorly enough without her griping at Bryne. \"How many did we lose?\" Not a much better topic, but she needed to know. \"Do we have reports yet?\" \"Nearly one in two of the soldiers,\" Bryne said softly.\n\nWorse than she'd suspected. \"And the Aes Sedai?\"\n\n\"We have somewhere around two hundred and fifty left,\" Bryne said. \"Though a number of those are in shock at having lost Warders.\"\n\nThat was more of a disaster. A hundred and twenty Aes Sedai dead in a matter of hours? The White Tower would require a very longtime to recover from that.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Siuan,\" Bryne said.\n\n\"Bah,\" Siuan said, \"most of them treated me like fish guts anyway. They resented meas Amyrlin, laughed when I was cast down, and then made a servant of me when I returned.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bryne nodded, still rubbing her shoulder."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could feel that she was hurt, despite her words. There were good women among the dead. Many good sisters.\n\n\"She's out there,\" Siuan said stubbornly. \"Egwene will surprise us, Bryne. You watch.\"\n\n\"If I'm watching, it won't be much of a surprise, will it?\"\n\nSiuan grunted. \"Fool man.\"\n\n\"You're right,\" he said solemnly. \"On both counts. I think Egwene will surprise us. I'm also a fool.\"\n\n\"Bryne...\"\n\n\"I am, Siuan. How could I miss that they were stalling? They wanted to occupy us until this other force could gather. The Trollocs pulled back into those hills. A defensive move. Trollocs aren't defensive. I assumed they were trying to setup an ambush only, and that was why they were pulling back corpses and preparing to wait. If I'd attacked them earlier, this could have been avoided. I was too careful.\"\n\n\"A man who thinks all day about the catch he missed because of stormy weather ends up wasting time when the sky is clear.\"\n\n\"A clever proverb, Siuan,\" he said. \"But there's a saying among generals, written by Fogh the Tireless.\"If you do not learn from your losses, you will be ruled by them. \"I can't see how I let this happen. I've trained better than this, prepared better than this! It's not just a mistake I can ignore, Siuan. The Pattern itself is at stake.\"\n\nHe rubbed his forehead. In the dim light of the setting sun, he looked older, his face wrinkled, his hands frail. It was as if this battle had stolen decades from him. He sighed, hunching forward."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Siuan found herself at a loss for words.\n\nThey satin silence.\n\nLyrelle waited outside the gates to the so-called Black Tower. It took every ounce of her training not to let her frustration show.\n\nThis entire expedition had been a disaster from the start. First, the Black Tower had refused them entry until the Reds had done their business, and that had been followed by the trouble with gateways. That had been followed by three bubbles of evil, two attempts by Darkfriends to murder the lot of them and the warning from the Amyrlin that the Black Tower had joined the Shadow to fight.\n\nLyrelle had sent most of her women to fight alongside Lan Mandrago-ran at the Amyrlin's insistence. She'd remained behind with a few sisters to watch the Black Tower. And now... now this. What to make of it?\n\n\"I can assure you,\" the young Asha'man said, \"the danger has passed. We drove off the M'Flael and the others who turned to the Shadow. The rest of us walk in the Light.\"\n\nLyrelle turned to her companions. A representative from each Ajah, along with backup-sent for desperately this morning when the Asha'man had first approached her-in the form of thirty other sisters. They accepted Lyrelle's leadership here, if only reluctantly.\n\n\"We will discuss it,\" she said, dismissing the young Asha'man with a nod.\n\n\"What do we do?\" Myrelle asked. The Green had been with Lyrelle from the start, one of the few that she'd not sent away, partially because she wanted the woman's Warders near. \"If some of their members are fighting for the Shadow...\"\n\n\"Gateways can be made again,\" Seaine said. \"Something has changed about this place in the days since we felt that channeling inside.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't trust it,\" Myrelle said.\n\n\"We must know for certain,\" Seaine said. \"We cannot leave the Black Tower unattended during the Last Battle itself. We must see these men taken care of, one way or another.\" The Black Tower men claimed that only a few of their number had joined the Shadow, and that the channeling had been the result of an attack by the Black Ajah.\n\nIt galled her to hear them use those words. Black Ajah. For centuries, the White Tower had denied the existence of Darkfriends among Aes Sedai. The truth had, unfortunately, been revealed. That didn't mean Lyrelle wanted to hear men tossing around the term so casually. Particularly men like these.\n\n\"If they'd wanted to attack us/\" Lyrelle said speculatively,\" they'd have done it when we couldn't escape with gateways. For now, I will assume they have cleansed the... problems among their ranks. As was required of the White Tower itself.\"\n\n\"So we go in?\" Myrelle asked.\n\n\"Yes. We bond the men we were promised, and from them draw out the truth, if it is obscured.\" It troubled Lyrelle that the Dragon Reborn had refused them the highest-ranking among the Asha'man, but Lyrelle had devised a plan when she first came here. It should still work. She would first ask fora display of channeling among the men, and would bond the one she felt was strongest. She would then have that one tell her which among the trainees were the most talented so her sisters could bond those.\n\nFrom there... well, she hoped that would contain the majority of these men. Light, what a mess. Men who could channel, walking about unashamed! She did not accept this fable of the taint having been cleansed. Of course these... men... would claim such a thing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sometimes,\" Lyrelle muttered, \"I wish I could go back and slap myself for accepting this commission.\"\n\nMyrelle laughed. She never did take events as seriously as she should. Lyrelle felt annoyed at having missed the chances to be had at the White Tower during her long absence. Reunification, fighting the Seanchan... These were the times when leadership could be proven, and a woman could gain a reputation for strength.\n\nOpportunities appeared during times of upheaval. Opportunities now lost to her. Light, but she hated that thought.\n\n\"We will enter,\" she called up to the walls framing the gate before her. Then, more softly, she continued to her women: \"Hold the One Power and be careful. We do not know what could happen here.\" Her women would be a match fora larger number of untrained Asha'man, if it came to that. It shouldn't, logically. Of course, the men were likely mad. So perhaps assuming logic from them was imprudent.\n\nThe large gates opened to allow her people in. It said something about these Black Tower men that they chose to finish the walls around their grounds before actually building their tower.\n\nShe kneed her horse forward, and Myrelle and the others followed in a clopping of hooves. Lyrelle embraced the Source and used the new weave, which would tell her if a man channeled nearby. It was not the young man from a short time ago who met them at the gates, however.\n\n\"What is this?\" Lyrelle asked as she was joined by Pevara Tazanovni. Lyrelle knew the Red Sitter, though not well.\n\n\"I've been asked to accompany you,\" Pevara said cheerfully. \"Logain thought that a familiar face might make you more comfortable.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lyrelle held in a sneer. Aes Sedai should not be cheerful. Aes Sedai should becalm, collected, and-if anything else-stern. A man should look at an Aes Sedai and immediately wonder what he had done wrong and how he could fix it.\n\nPevara fell in beside her as they rode onto the grounds of the Black Tower. \"Logain, who is in charge now, sends his regards,\" Pevara continued. \"He was gravely wounded in the attacks and has not yet fully recovered.\" \"Will he be well?\"\n\n\"Oh, certainly. He should be up and about in another day or two. He will be needed to lead the Asha'man as they join the Last Battle, I suspect.\" Pity, Lyrelle thought. The Black Tower would have been more easily controlled without a false Dragon at their head. Better that he had died.\n\n\"I am certain his aid will be useful,\" Lyrelle said. \"His leadership, however... Well, we shall see. Tell me, Pevara. I have been told that bonding a man who can channel is different from bonding a normal man. Have you been through the process?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Pevara said.\n\n\"Is it true, then?\" Lyrelle asked. \"Ordinary men can be compelled with the bond to obey, but not these Asha'man?\"\n\nPevara smiled, seeming wistful. \"Ah, what would that be like? No, the bond cannot force Asha'man. You will have to use more inventive means.\" That was not good. \"How obedient are they?\" Aledrin asked from the other side.\n\n\"It depends on the man, I suspect,\" Pevara said.\n\n\"If they cannot be forced,\" Lyrelle said, \"will they obey their Aes Sedai in battle?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Probably,\" Pevara said, though there was something ambiguous about the way she said it. \"I must tell you something, all of you. The mission I was sent on, and the one you also pursue, is a fool's errand.\"\n\n\"Is that so?\" Lyrelle asked evenly. She was hardly going to trust a Red after what they had done to Siuan. \"Why is that?\"\n\n\"I was once where you are,\" Pevara said. \"Ready to bond all of the Asha'man in an attempt to control them. But would you ride into another city and select fifty men there, at a whim, and bond them as Warders? Bonding the Asha'man just to bond them is foolish. It will not control them. I do think some Asha'man will make excellent Warders, but-like many men-others will not. I suggest that you abandon your plan to bond exactly forty-seven and take those who are most willing. You will gain better Warders.\"\n\n\"Interesting advice,\" Lyrelle said. \"But, as you mentioned, the Asha'man will be needed at the battlefront. There is not time. We will take the forty-seven most powerful.\"\n\nPevara sighed, but said nothing further as they passed several men in black coats with two pins on the high collars. Lyrelle felt her skin crawling, as if insects burrowed beneath it. Men who could channel.\n\nLelaine felt that the Black Tower was vital to the White Tower's plans. Well, Lyrelle did not belong to Lelaine. She washer own person, and a Sitter in her own right. If she could find away to bring the Black Tower under her direct authority, then perhaps she could finally wiggle out from under Le-laine's thumb."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For that prize, bonding Asha'man was worthwhile. Light, but she wasn't going to enjoy it. They needed all of these men controlled, somehow. The Dragon would be growing mad, unreliable by this point, tainted by the Dark One's touch on saidin. Could he be manipulated into letting the rest of the men be bonded?\n\nNot having control through the bond... that will be dangerous. She imagined going into battle with ranks of two or three dozen Asha'man, bonded and forced to her will. How could she make it happen?\n\nThey reached a line of men in black coats waiting at the edge of the village. Lyrelle and the others approached them, and Lyrelle did a quick count. Forty-seven men, including the one standing at the front. What trick were they trying to pull?\n\nThe one at the front came forward. He was a sturdy man in his middle years, and he looked as if he'd recently suffered some kind of ordeal. He had bags under his eyes and wan skin. His step was firm, however, and his gaze steady as he met Lyrelle's eyes, then bowed to her.\n\n\"Welcome, Aes Sedai,\" he said.\n\n\"And you are?\"\n\n\"Androl Genhald,\" he said. \"I've been put in charge of your forty-seven until they have been bonded.\"\n\n\"My forty-seven? I see that you have forgotten the terms already. We are to be given any soldier or Dedicated we wish, and they cannot refuse us.\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed,\" Androl said. \"That is true. Unfortunately, all of the men in the Black Tower other than these are either full Asha'man, or have been called away on urgent business. The others would, of course, follow the Dragon's commands if they were here. We made certain to keep forty-seven for you. Actually, forty-six. I've already been bonded by Pevara Sedai, you see.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We will wait until the others return,\" Lyrelle said coldly.\n\n\"Alas,\" Androl said, \" I do not think they will return anytime soon. If\n\nyou intend to join the Last Battle, you will have to make your selections quickly.\"\n\nLyrelle narrowed her eyes at him, then looked at Pevara, who shrugged.\n\n\"This is a trick,\" Lyrelle said to Androl. \"And a childish one.\"\n\n\"I thought it clever myself,\" Androl returned, voice cool. \"Worthy of an Aes Sedai, one might say. You were promised that any member of the Black Tower, save full Asha'man, would respond to your request. They will. Any of them to whom you can make the request.\"\n\n\"Undoubtedly, you chose for me the weakest among your numbers.\"\n\n\"Actually,\" Androl said, \"we took those who volunteered. They are good men, everyone of them. They are the ones who wanted to be Warders.\"\n\n\"The Dragon Reborn will hear of this.\"\n\n\"From what I've heard,\" Androl said, \"he's heading to Shayol Ghul anytime now. Are you going to join him there just to make your complaint?\"\n\nLyrelle drew her lips into a line.\n\n\"Here's the thing, Aes Sedai,\" Androl said. \"The Dragon Reborn sent a message to us, just earlier today. He instructed us to learn one last lesson: that we're not to think of ourselves as weapons, but as men. Well, men have a choice in their fate, and weapons do not. Here are your men, Aes Sedai. Respect them.\"\n\nAndrol bowed again and walked away. Pevara hesitated, then turned her horse, following him. Lyrelle saw something in the woman's face as she looked at the man."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "So that is it, Lyrelle thought."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No better than a Green, that one is. I would have expected more of one her age.\n\nLyrelle was tempted to refuse this manipulation, to go to the Amyrlin and protest what had happened. Only... news from the Amyrlin's battle-front was jumbled. Something about an unexpected army appearing; details were not available.\n\nCertainly the Amyrlin would not be happy to hear complaints at this point. And certainly, Lyrelle admitted to herself, she also wanted to be done with the Black Tower.\n\n\"Each of you pick two,\" Lyrelle said to her companions. \"A few of us will take only one. Faolain and Theodrin, you are among those. Be quick about it, all of you. I want away from this place as soon as possible.\"\n\nPevara caught up to Androl as he slipped into one of the huts.\n\n\"Light,\" she said. \"I'd forgotten how cold some of us can be.\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't know,\" Androl replied. \"I've heard that some of you aren't quite so bad.\"\n\n\"Be careful of them, Androl,\" she said, looking back out. \"Many will see you as only a threat or a tool to be used.\"\n\n\"We won you over,\" Androl said, walking into a room where Canler, Jonneth and Emarin waited with cups of warm tea. All three were beginning to recover from the fighting, Jonneth most quickly. Emarin bore the worst scars, most of them emotional. He, like Logain, had been subjected to the Turning process. Pevara noticed him staring blankly, sometimes, face etched by fear as if remembering something horrible.\n\n\"You three shouldn't be here,\" Pevara said, hands on hips, facing Emarin and the other two. \"I know Logain promised you advancement, but you still wear only the sword on your collars. If any of those women saw you, they could take you as Warders.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They won't see us,\" Jonneth said with a laugh. \"Androl would have us through a gateway before we had time to curse!\"\n\n\"So what do we do now?\" Canler asked.\n\n\"Whatever Logain wishes of us,\" Androl said.\n\nLogain had... changed since the ordeal. Androl whispered to her that he was darker now. He spoke less. He did still seem determined to get to the Last Battle, but for now, he gathered the men in and pored over things they'd found in Taim's rooms. Pevara worried that the Turning had broken him inside.\n\n\"He thinks there might be something in those battle maps he found in Taim's chambers,\" Emarin said.\n\n\"We'll go where Logain decides we can be of most use,\" Androl replied. A straightforward answer, but one that didn't actually say much.\n\n\"And what of the Lord Dragon?\" Pevara asked carefully.\n\nShe felt Androl's uncertainty. The Asha'man Naeff had come to them, bearing news and instructions-and with them, some implications. The Dragon Reborn had known all was not well at the Black Tower.\n\n\"He left us alone on purpose,\" Androl said.\n\n\"He would have come if he could have!\" Jonneth said. \" I promise you.\n\n\"He left us to escape on our own,\" Emarin said, \"or to fall on our own. He has become a harsh man. Perhaps callous.\"\n\n\"It doesn't matter,\" Androl said. \"The Black Tower has learned to survive without him. Light! It always survived without him. He barely had anything to do with us. It was Logain who gave us hope. It is Logain who will have my allegiance.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The others nodded. Pevara felt something important happening here. They couldn't have leaned upon him forever anyway, she thought. The Dragon Reborn will die at the Last Battle. By intention or not, he had given them the chance to become their own men.\n\n\"I will take his last order to heart, however,\" Androl said. \"I will not be merely a weapon. The taint is cleansed. We fight not to die, but to live. We have a reason to live. Spread the word among the other men, and let us take oaths to uphold Logain as our leader. And then, to the Last Battle. Not as minions of the Dragon Reborn, not as pawns of the Amyrlin Seat, but as the Black Tower. Our own men.\"\n\n\"Our own men,\" the other three whispered, nodding.\n\nCHAPTER"
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the story as the writer's narrative assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 2"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The others nodded. Pevara felt something important happening here. They couldn't have leaned upon him forever anyway, she thought. The Dragon Reborn will die at the Last Battle. By intention or not, he had given them the chance to become their own men.\n\n\"I will take his last order to heart, however,\" Androl said. \"I will not be merely a weapon. The taint is cleansed. We fight not to die, but to live. We have a reason to live. Spread the word among the other men, and let us take oaths to uphold Logain as our leader. And then, to the Last Battle. Not as minions of the Dragon Reborn, not as pawns of the Amyrlin Seat, but as the Black Tower. Our own men.\"\n\n\"Our own men,\" the other three whispered, nodding.\n\nCHAPTER"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Wyld\n\nEgwene was shocked awake as Gawyn clamped his handover her mouth. She tensed, memories returning like the light of a sunrise. They were still hiding beneath the broken cart; the air still smelled of burned wood. The land nearby was dark as coal. Night had fallen.\n\nShe looked to Gawyn and nodded. Had she really drifted off? She wouldn't have thought it possible, under the circumstances.\n\n\"I'm going to try to slip away,\" Gawyn whispered, \"and make a distraction.\"\n\n\"I'll go with you.\"\n\n\"I can go more quietly.\"\n\n\"Obviously you've never tried to sneak upon someone from the Two Rivers, Gawyn Trakand,\" she said. \"I'd bet you a hundred Tar Valon marks that I'm the quieter of us two.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Gawyn whispered, \"but if you draw within a dozen steps of one of their channelers, you'll be spotted, no matter how quiet. They've been patrolling through camp, particularly at the perimeters.\"\n\nShe frowned. How did he know that? \"You went out scouting.\"\n\n\"A little,\" he whispered. \"I wasn't seen. They're scavenging through the tents, taking captive anyone they find. We won't be able to hide here much longer.\"\n\nHe should not have gone out without asking her. \"We-\"\n\nof the soldiers did, too. Not all Sharans were dark as the fellows she'd seen so far.\n\nThe women's faces were very beautiful. Delicate. Egwene shrank back. From what she had seen earlier, these two would probably be channelers. If they stepped too close to Egwene, they might sense her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The two women inspected the captives."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "By the light of their lanterns, Egwene made out tattoos on their faces as well, though theirs were not as disturbing as those upon the men. These were like leaves, tattooed from the back of the neck forward, going under the ears and spreading like blossoms on the cheeks. The two women whispered to one another, and again Egwene felt as if she could almost understand them. If she could weave a thread to listen-\n\nIdiot, she thought. Channeling would get her killed here.\n\nOthers gathered around the captives. Egwene held her breath. A hundred, two hundred, more people approached. They did not talk much; they seemed a quiet, solemn people, these Sharans. Most of those who came had open backs to their garments, revealing their tattoos. Were those symbols of status?\n\nShe had assumed that the more important one was, the more intricate the tattoos. However, officers-she had to assume that was what they were, with their feathered helmets and fine silken coats and golden armor made as if of coins that had been sewn together through the holes at their centers-they had only small openings, revealing tiny tattoos at the base of shoulders.\n\nThey've removed pieces of armor to display the tattoos, she thought. Surely they did not do battle with the skin exposed. This was something done during more formal times.\n\nThe last people who joined the crowd-ushered to the front-were the strangest of all. Two men and a woman atop small donkeys, all three wearing beautiful silk skirts, their animals draped with gold and silver chains. Plumes of vibrant colors fanned out from intricate headdresses upon these three. They were nude from the waist up, including the woman, save for the jewelry and necklaces that covered much of their chests. Their backs were exposed, their heads shaven just on the back to show their necks. There were no tattoos."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So... lords of some sort? Except all three had hollow, haunted expressions. They slumped forward, eyes down, faces wan. Their arms seemed thin, almost skeletal. So frail. What had been done to these people?\n\nIt made no sense to her. The Sharans were undoubtedly a people as\n\nbaffling as the Aiel, probably more so. But why come now? Egwene thought. Why, after centuries upon centuries of isolation, have they finally decided to invade?\n\nThere were no coincidences, not of this magnitude. These had come to ambush Egwene's people, and had worked with the Trollocs. She let herself seize upon that. Whatever she learned here would be of vital importance. She could not help her army right now-Light send that some of its members, at least, had managed to flee-so she should learn what she could.\n\nGawyn prodded her softly. She looked to him, and felt his worry for her.\n\nNow? he mouthed, gesturing behind them. Perhaps, with everyone's attention drawn by... whatever was happening, the two of them could sneak away. They started to backup, shuffling quietly.\n\nOne of the Sharan channelers called out. Egwene froze. She'd been spotted!\n\nNo. No. Egwene breathed deeply, trying to calm her heart, which seemed to be trying to beat its way out through her chest. The woman was speaking to the others. Egwene thought she'd heard the words'It is done\" through the thick accent.\n\nThe group of people knelt down. The bejeweled trio bowed their heads further. And then, near the captives, the air bent.\n\nEgwene couldn't describe it any other way. It warped and... and seemed to rip apart, twisting like it did above the road on a hot day. Something formed from this disruption: a tall man in glistening armor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He wore no helmet and had dark hair and light skin."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His nose was slightly hooked, and he was very handsome, particularly in that armor. It looked to be constructed all of coins, silvery and overlapping. The coins were polished to such a shine, they reflected the faces around him like a mirror.\n\n\"You have done well,\" the man announced to those bowing before him. \"You may stand.\" His voice bore hints of the Sharan accent, but it was not nearly as thick.\n\nThe man placed his hand on the pommel of the sword at his waist as the others rose. From the darkness behind, a group of the channelers crawled forward. They bobbed for this newcomer in a kind of bow. He removed one of his gauntlets, reached outwith an offhanded gesture and scratched the head of one of the men, as a lord might favor a hound.\n\n\"So these are the new inacal,\" the man said speculatively. \"Do any of you know who I am?\"\n\nThe captives cringed before him. Though the Sharans had risen, the captives were smart enough to remain on the ground. None of them spoke.\n\n\"I suspected not,\" the man said. \"Though one can never tell if one's fame has spread unexpectedly. Tell me, if you know who I am. Speak it, and I will let you free.\"\n\nNo replies.\n\n\"Well, you will listen and remember,\" the man said. \"I am Bao, the Wyld. I am your savior. I have crawled through the depths of sorrow and have risen up to accept my glory. I have come seeking what was taken from me. Remember that.\"\n\nThe captives cowered further, obviously uncertain what to do. Gawyn tugged on Egwene's sleeve, motioning backward, but she did not move. There was something about that man..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He looked up suddenly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He focused on the women channelers, then gazed about, peering into the darkness. \"Do any of you inacal know the Dragon?\" he asked, though he sounded distracted. \"Speak up. Tell me.\"\n\n\"I did see him,\" said one of the captive soldiers. \"Several times.\"\n\n\"Did you speak with him?\" Bao asked, strolling away from the captives.\n\nNo, great Lord,\"the soldier said.\" The Aes Sedai, they did speak with him. Not I.\"\n\n\"Yes. I worried you would be of no use,\" Bao said. \"Servants, we are being watched. You have not searched this camp as well as you claimed. I sense a woman nearby who can channel.\"\n\nEgwene felt a spike of alarm. Gawyn pulled on her arm, meaning to go, but if they ran, they'd be captured for certain. Light! She-\n\nThe crowd turned at a sudden noise near one of the fallen tents. Bao raised a hand, and Egwene heard a furious yell in the darkness. Moments later, Leane floated through the crowd of Sharans, tied in Air, her eyes wide. Bao brought her up close to him, holding her wrapped in weaves that Egwene could not see.\n\nHer heart continued to pound. Leane was alive. How had she remained hidden? Light! What could Egwene do?\n\n\"Ah,\" Bao said. \"One of these... Aes Sedai. You, you have spoken with the Dragon?\"\n\nLeane didn't respond. To her credit, she kept her face blank.\n\n\"Impressive,\" Bao said, reaching up fingers and touching her chin. He held up another hand, and the collected captives suddenly started to writhe and scream. They burst into flames, yelling in agony. Egwene had to forcibly stop herself from reaching for the True Source as she watched. She was crying by the time it ended, though she did not remember starting."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Sharans shuffled.\n\n\"Do not be displeased,\" Bao said to them. \"I know you went to great trouble to take some alive for me, but they would have made poor inacal. They are not raised to it, and during this war, we do not have time to train them. Killing them now is a mercy compared to what they would have had to endure. Besides, this one, this... Aes Sedai will serve our purpose.\"\n\nLeane's mask had cracked, and despite the distance, Egwene could see her hatred.\n\nBao still had her chin cupped in his hand. \"You area beautiful thing,\" he said. \" Unfortunately, beauty is meaningless. You are to deliver a message for me, Aes Sedai, to Lews Therin. The one who calls himself the Dragon Reborn. Tell him that I have come to slay him, and in so doing, I will claim this world. I will take what originally should have been mine. Tell him that. Tell him you have seen me, and describe me to him. He will know me.\n\n\"Just as the people here awaited him with prophecy, just as they showered him with glory, the people of my land awaited me. I have fulfilled their prophecies. He is false, and I am true. Tell him I will finally have satisfaction. He is to come tome, so that we may face one another. If he does not, I will slaughter and destroy. I will seize his people. I will enslave his children, I will take his women for my own. One by one, I will break, destroy, or dominate everything he has loved. The only way for him to avoid this is for him to come and face me.\n\n\"Tell him this, little Aes Sedai. Tell him that an old friend awaits. I am Bao, the Wyld. He Who Is Owned Only by the Land. The dragonslayer. He knew me once by a name I have scorned, the name Barid Bel.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Barid Bel?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene thought, memories from her lessons in the White Tower returning to her. Barid Bel Medar... Demandred.\n\nThe storm in the wolf dream was a changeable thing. Perrin spent hours prowling the Borderlands, visiting packs of wolves as he ran down dry riverbeds and across broken hills.\n\nGaul had learned quickly. He wouldn't stand fora moment against Slayer, of course, but at least he had learned to keep his clothing from changing-though his veil did still snap up to cover his face when he was startled.\n\nThe two of them bounded through Kandor, leaving blurs in the air as they moved from hilltop to hilltop. The storm was sometimes strong, sometimes weak. At the moment, Kandor was hauntingly still. The grassy highland landscape was strewn with all kinds of debris. Tents, roofing tiles, the sail of a large ship, even a blacksmith's anvil, deposited point-first into a muddy hillside.\n\nThe dangerously powerful storm could arise anywhere in the wolf dream and rip apart cities or forests. He'd found Tairen hats blown all the way to Shienar.\n\nPerrin came to rest on a hilltop, Gaul streaking into place beside him. How long had they been searching for Slayer? A few hours, it seemed on one hand. On the other... how much ground had they crossed? They had returned to their food stores now three times to eat. Did that mean a day had passed?\n\n\"Gaul,\" Perrin said. \"How long have we been at this?\"\n\n\"I cannot say, Perrin Aybara,\" Gaul replied. He checked for the sun, though there was none. \"Along while. Will we need to stop and sleep?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was a good question. Perrins stomach suddenly growled, and he made them a meal of dried meat and a hunk of bread. He gave some to Gaul. Would summoned bread sustain them in the wolf dream, or would it merely vanish once they consumed it?\n\nThe latter. The food vanished even as Perrin ate it. They would need to rely upon their supplies, perhaps getting more from Rand's Asha'man during the daily opening of that portal. For now, he shifted back to their packs and dugout some dried meat, then rejoined Gaul in the north.\n\nAs they settled down on the hillside to eat again, he found himself dwelling on the dreamspike. He carried it with him, turned to its slumbering position, as Lanfear had taught him. It made no dome now, but he could make one when he wished.\n\nLanfear had all but given it to him. What did that mean? Why did she taunt him?\n\nHe ripped at a hunk of dried meat. Was Faile safe? If the Shadow discovered what she was doing... Well, he wished he could at least check on her.\n\nHe took along drink from his waterskin, then searched outward for the wolves. There were hundreds of them up here, in the Borderlands. Perhaps thousands. He gave those nearby a greeting, sending his scent mixed with his image. The dozen replies that came were not words, but his mind understood them as such.\n\nYoung Bull! This from a wolf named White Eyes. The Last Hunt is here. Will you lead us?\n\nMany asked this, lately, and Perrin couldn't figure out how to interpret\n\nit. Why do you need me to lead you?\n\nIt will be by your call' White Eyes replied. By your howl."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I don't understand what you mean, Perrin sent."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Can you not hunt on your own?\n\nNot this prey, Young Bull.\n\nPerrin shook his head. A response like others he'd received. White Eyes, he sent. Have you seen Slayer? The killer of wolves? Has he stalked you here?\n\nPerrin sent it out broadly, and some of the other wolves replied. They knew of Slayer. His image and scent had been passed among many wolves,\n\nmuch as had Perrins own. None had seen him recently, but time was an odd thing to wolves; Perrin wasn't certain how recent their'recently\" really was.\n\nPerrin took a bite of dried meat, and caught himself growling softly. He stifled that. He had come to a peace with the wolf inside of him, but that didn't mean he intended to let it start tracking mud into the house.\n\nYoung Bull, another wolf sent. Turn Bow, an aged female pack leader. Moonhunter walks the dreams again. She seeks you.\n\nThank you, he sent back. I know this. I will avoid her.\n\nAvoid the moon? Turn Bow sent back. A difficult thing, Young Bull. Difficult.\n\nShe had the right of that.\n\nI saw Heartseeker just now, sent Steps, a black-furred youth. She wears anew scent, but it is her.\n\nOther wolves sent agreement. Heartseeker was in the wolf dream. Some had seen her to the east, but others said that she had been seen to the south.\n\nBut what of Slayer? Where was the man, if not hunting wolves? Perrin caught himself growling again.\n\nHeartseeker. That must be one of the Forsaken, though he didn't recognize the images they sent of her. She was ancient, and so were the memories of wolves, but often the things they remembered were fragments of fragments that their ancestors had seen."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Any news?\" Gaul said.\n\n\"Another one of the Forsaken is here,\" Perrin said with a grunt. \"Doing something to the east.\"\n\n\"Does it involve us?\"\n\n\"The Forsaken always involve us,\" Perrin said, standing. He reached down, touched Gaul on the shoulder and shifted them in the direction Steps had indicated. The position wasn't exact, but once Perrin arrived, he found some wolves who had seen Heartseeker on their way to the Borderlands the day before. They sent Perrin eager greetings, asking if he was going to lead them.\n\nHe rebuffed their questions, pinpointing where Heartseeker had been spotted. It was Merrilor.\n\nPerrin shifted there. A strange mist hungover the landscape here. Tall trees, the ones Rand had grown, reflected here, and their lofty tops poked out of the mist above.\n\nTents dotted the landscape, like the tops of mushrooms. Aiel tents were plentiful, and between them cook fires glowed in the mist. This camp had been here long enough to manifest in the wolf dream, though tent flaps\n\nchanged places and bedrolls vanished, flickering in the insubstantial way of this place.\n\nPerrin led Gaul between the neat rows of tents and horseless horse pickets. They both froze as they heard a sound. Someone muttering. Perrin used the trick he'd seen Lanfear use, creating a pocket of... something around himself that was invisible, but which stopped sound. It was strange, but he did it by creating a barrier with no air in it. Why would that make the sound stop?\n\nHe and Gaul crept forward to the canvas of a tent. That of the man Rodel Ituralde, one of the great captains, judging by the banner. Inside, a woman in trousers picked through documents on a table. They kept vanishing in her fingers."
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"value": "Perrin didn't recognize her, though she was painfully homely. That certainly wasn't what he'd have expected from one of the Forsaken; not that large forehead, bulbous nose, uneven eyes or thinning hair. He didn't recognize her curses, though he grasped the meaning from her tone.\n\nGaul looked at him, and Perrin reached for his hammer, but hesitated. Attacking Slayer was one thing, but one of the Forsaken? He was confident of his ability to resist weaves herein the wolf dream. But still...\n\nThe woman cursed again as the paper she was reading vanished. Then she looked up.\n\nPerrin's reaction was immediate. He created a paper-thin wall between her and him, her side painted with an exact replica of the landscape behind him, his side transparent. She looked right at him, but didn't see him, and turned away.\n\nBeside him, Gaul let out a very soft breath of relief. How did I do that? Perrin thought. It wasn't something he had practiced; it had merely seemed right.\n\nHeartseeker-this had to be she-waved her fingers, and the tent split in half above her, the canvas flaps hanging down. She rose through the air, moving toward the black tempest above.\n\nPerrin whispered to Gaul, \"Wait here and watch for danger.\"\n\nGaul nodded. Perrin cautiously followed Heartseeker, lifting himself into the air with a thought. He tried to form another wall between himself and her, but it was too difficult to keep the right image displayed while moving. Instead, he kept his distance and put a blank brownish-green wall between him and the Forsaken, hoping that if she happened to glance down, she'd pass over the small oddity."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She began to move more quickly, and Perrin forced himself to keep up.\n\nHe glanced down, and was rewarded with the stomach-churning sight of Merrilor's landscape dwindling below. Then it grew dark and vanished into blackness.\n\nThey didn't pass through the clouds. As the ground faded away, so did the clouds, and they entered someplace black. Pinpricks of light appeared all around Perrin. The woman above stopped and hung in the air fora few moments before streaking away to the right.\n\nPerrin followed again, coloring himself-his skin, his clothing, everything-black to hide. The woman approached one of the pinpricks of light until it expanded and dominated the sky in front of her.\n\nHeartseeker reached her hands forward and pressed them against the light. She was muttering to herself. Feeling he needed to hear what she was saying, Perrin dared move closer, though he suspected that the pounding of his heart was so loud it would give him away.\n\n\"... take it from me?\" she said. \"You think I care? Give me a face of broken stone. What do I care? That's not me. I will have your place, Moridin. It will be mine. This face will just make them underestimate me. Burn you.\" Perrin frowned. He couldn't make much sense of what she was saying. \"Go ahead and throw your armies at them, you fools,\" she continued to herself. \"I'll have the greater victory. An insect can have a thousand legs, but only one head. Destroy the head, and the day is yours. All you're doing is cutting off the legs, stupid fool. Stupid, arrogant, insufferable fool. I'll have what is due me, I'll...\"\n\nShe hesitated, then pivoted. Perrin, spooked, immediately sent himself back to the ground. It worked, thankfully-he hadn't known if it would, up in that place of lights. Gaul jumped, and Perrin took a deep breath. \"Let's-\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A ball of blazing fire crashed into the ground beside him. Perrin cursed and rolled, cooling himself with a gust of wind, imagining his hammer up into his hand.\n\nHeartseeker dropped to the ground in a wave of energy, power rippling around her. \"Who are you?\" she demanded. \"Where are you? I-\"\n\nShe focused suddenly on Perrin, seeing him completely for the first time, the blackness having faded from his clothing. \"You!\" she screeched. \"You are to blame for this!\"\n\nShe raised her hands; her eyes almost seemed to glow with hatred. Perrin could smell the emotion in spite of the blowing wind. She released a white-hot bar of light, but Perrin bent it around himself.\n\nThe woman started. They always did that. Didn't they realize that nothing was real here except what you thought to be real? Perrin vanished, appearing behind her, raising his hammer. Then he hesitated. A woman?\n\nShe spun about, screaming and ripping the earth beneath him. He jumped up into the sky, and the air around him tried to seize him-but he did what he'd done before, creating a wall of nothingness. There was no air to grab him. Holding his breath, he vanished and appeared back on the ground, summoning banks of earth in front of him to block the balls of fire that hurtled his way.\n\n\"I want you dead!\" the woman screamed. \"You should be dead. My plans were perfect!\"\n\nPerrin vanished, leaving behind a statue of himself. He appeared beside the tent, where Gaul watched carefully, spear raised. Perrin put a wall between them and the woman, coloring it to hide them, and made a barrier to block the sound.\n\n\"She can't hear us now,\" Perrin said."
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"value": "\"You are strong here,\" Gaul said thoughtfully. \"Very strong. Do the Wise Ones know of this?\"\n\n\"I'm still a pup compared to them,\" Perrin said.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Gaul said. \"I have not seen them, and they do not speak of this place to men.\" He shook his head. \"Much honor, Perrin Aybara. You have much honor.\"\n\n\"I should have just struck her down,\" Perrin said as Heartseeker destroyed the statue of him, then stepped up to it, looking confused. She turned about, searching frantically.\n\n\"Yes,\" Gaul agreed. \"A warrior who will not strike a Maiden is a warrior who refuses her honor. Of course, the greater honor for you. .\"\n\nWould be to take her captive. Could he do it? Perrin took a breath, then sent himself behind her, imagining vines reaching around her to hold her in place. The woman howled curses at him, slicing the vines with unseen blades. She reached her hand toward Perrin, and he shifted to the side.\n\nHis feet crunched on bits of frost on the ground that he hadn't noticed, and she immediately spun on him and released another weave of balefire. Clever, Perrin thought, barely managing to bend the light away. It struck the hillside behind, drilling a hole straight through it.\n\nHeartseeker continued the weave, snarling, hideous face distorted. The weave bent back toward Perrin, and he gritted his teeth, keeping it at bay. She was strong. She pushed hard, but finally, she released it, panting. \"How... how can you possibly...\"\n\nPerrin filled her mouth with forkroot. It was difficult to do; changing anything directly about a person was always harder. However, this was much easier than trying to transform her into an animal or the like. She raised a hand to her mouth, eyes adopting a look of panic. She began to spit and hack, then desperately opened a gateway beside her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perrin growled, imagining ropes reaching for her, but she destroyed them with a weave of Fire-she must have gotten the forkroot out. She hurled herself through the gateway, and he shifted himself to be right in front of it, preparing to leap through. He froze when he saw her entering the middle of an enormous army of Trollocs and Fades at night. Many faced the gateway, eager.\n\nPerrin stepped back as Heartseeker raised a hand to her mouth, looking aghast and coughing out more forkroot. The gateway closed.\n\n\"You should have killed her,\" Lanfear said.\n\nPerrin turned to find the woman standing nearby, her arms folded. Her hair had changed from silver to dark brown. In fact, her face had changed, too, becoming slightly more like it had been before, when he'd first seen her nearly two years ago.\n\nPerrin said nothing, returning his hammer to its straps.\n\n\"This is a weakness, Perrin,\" Lanfear said. \"I found it charming in Lews Therin atone point, but that doesn't make it any less a weakness. You need to overcome it.\"\n\n\"I will,\" he snapped. \"What was she doing, up therewith the balls of light?\"\n\n\"Invading dreams,\" Lanfear said. \"She was herein the flesh. That affords one certain advantages, particularly when playing with dreams. That hussy. She thinks she knows this place, but it has always been mine. It would have been best if you'd killed her.\"\n\n\"That was Graendal, wasn't it?\" Perrin asked. \"Or was it Moghedien?\"\n\n\"Graendal,\" Lanfear said. \"Though, again, we are not to use that name for her. She's been renamed Hessalam.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hessalam,\" Perrin said, trying the word out in his mouth. \"I don't know it.\"\n\n\"It means \"without forgiveness.\"\"\n\n\"And what is your new name, the one we're supposed to call you, now?\"\n\nThat actually pulled a blush out of her. \"Never mind,\" she said. \"You are skilled herein Tel'aran'rhiod. Much better than Lews Therin ever was. I always thought I would rule at his side, that only a man who could channel would be worthy of me. But the power you display here... I think I may accept it as a substitute.\"\n\nPerrin grunted. Gaul had moved across the small clearing between the camp tents, spear raised, shoufa covering his face. Perrin waved him off. Not only was Lanfear likely to be much better with the wolf dream than Gaul, but she hadn't done anything specifically threatening yet.\n\n\"If youve been watching me,\" Perrin said, \"you'll know that I'm married, quite happily.\"\n\n\"So I have seen.\"\n\n\"Then stop looking at me like a flank of beef hung up for display in the market,\" Perrin growled. \"What was Graendal doing here? What does she want?\"\n\n\"I'm not certain,\" Lanfear said lightly. \"She always has three or four plots going at the same time. Don't underestimate her, Perrin. She's not as skilled here as some others, but she is dangerous. She's a fighter, unlike Moghedien, who will run from you whenever she can.\"\n\nTil keep that in mind,\" Perrin said, walking up to the place where she'd vanished by gateway. He prodded at the earth where the gateway had cut the ground."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You could do that, you know,\" Lanfear said.\n\nHe spun on her. \"What?\"\n\n\"Go back and forth into the waking world,\" she said. \"Without requiring the help of one like Lews Therin.\"\n\nPerrin didn't like the way she sneered when she said his name. She tried to cover it up, but he smelled hatred on her whenever she mentioned him.\n\n\"I can't channel,\" Perrin said. \"I suppose I could imagine being able to...\"\n\n\"It wouldn't work,\" she said. \"There are limits to what one can accomplish here, regardless of how strong the mind. The ability to channel is not a thing of the body, but a thing of the soul. There are still ways for one such as you to move back and forth between worlds in the flesh. The one you call Slayer does it.\"\n\n\"He's not a wolfbrother.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said. \"But he is something similar. I'm honestly not certain another has had his skills before. The Dark One did... something to this Slayer when capturing his soul, or his souls. I suspect Semirhage might have been able to tell us more. It's a pity she's dead.\"\n\nLanfear didn't smell of pity at all. She glanced at the sky, but was calm, not worried.\n\n\"You don't seem as worried about being spotted as you once were,\" Perrin noted.\n\n\"My former master is... occupied. This last week watching you, I've rarely felt his eyes on me.\"\n\n\"Week?\" Perrin asked, shocked. \"But-\"\n\n\"Time passes oddly here,\" she said, \"and the barriers of time itself are fraying. The closer you are to the Bore, the more time will distort. For those who approach Shayol Ghul in the real world, it will be just as bad. For everyday that passes to them, three or four might pass to those more distant.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A week? Light! Flow much had happened on the outside? Who lived, and who had died, while Perrin hunted? He should wait at the Traveling ground for his portal to open. But, judging by the darkness he'd seen through Graendal's gateway, it was night. Perrin's escape portal could be hours away.\n\n\"You could make a gateway for me,\" Perrin said. \"A pathway out, then back in. Will you?\"\n\nLanfear considered it, strolling past one of the flickering tents and letting her fingers trail on the canvas as it vanished. \"No,\" she finally said. \"But-\"\n\n\"You must learn to do this thing for yourself if we are to be together.\" \"We're not going to be together,\" he said flatly.\n\n\"You need this power of and for yourself,\" she said, ignoring what he had said. \"You are weak so long as you are trapped only in one of the worlds; being able to come here when you want will give you great power.\" \"I don't care about power, Lanfear,\" he said, watching her as she continued to stroll. She was pretty. Not as pretty as Faile, of course. Beautiful nonetheless.\n\n\"Don't you?\" She faced him. \"Have you never thought of what you could do with more strength, more power, more authority?\"\n\n\"That won't tempt me to-\"\n\n\"Save lives?\" she said. \"Prevent children from starving? Stop the weak from being bullied, end wickedness, reward honor? Power to encourage men to be straightforward and honest with one another?\"\n\nHe shook his head.\n\n\"You could do so much good, Perrin Aybara,\" she said, walking up to him, then touching the side of his face, running her fingers down his beard."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Tell me how to do what Slayer does,\" Perrin said, pushing her hand away."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How does he move between worlds?\"\n\n\"I cannot explain it to you,\" she said, turning away, \"as it is a skill I have never had to learn. I use other methods. Perhaps you can beat it out of him. I would be quick, assuming you wish to stop Graendal.\"\n\n\"Stop her?\" Perrin said.\n\nDidnt you realize? Lanfear turned back to him. \"The dream she was invading was not one of the people from this camp-space and distance matter not to dreams. That dream you saw her invading... it belongs to Davram Bashere. Father of your wife.\"\n\nWith that, Lanfear vanished.\n\nCHAPTER\n\nAt the Edge of Time\n\nGawyn tugged urgently on Egwene's shoulder. Why wouldn't she move? Whoever that man was in the armor made of silver discs, he could sense female channelers. He d picked Leane out of the darkness; he could do the same for Egwene. Light, he probably would, as\n\nsoon as he took a moment to notice.\n\nI'm going to haul her up onto my shoulder, if she doesn't move, he thought. Light help me, I'll do it, no matter how much noise it makes. We're going to be\n\ncaught anyway, if we-\n\nThe one who called himself Bao moved off, towing Leane-still wrapped in Air-with him. The others followed in amass, leaving the awful, charred remnants of the other captives behind.\n\n\"Egwene?\" Gawyn whispered.\n\nShe looked at him, a cold strength in her eyes, and nodded. Light! How could she be so calm when he had to clench his teeth for fear they would"
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "start rattling together?\n\nThey wriggled out from under the cart backward, moving on their stomachs until they emerged. Egwene glanced in the direction of the Sharans. Her cold sense of control radiated into his mind from the bond. Hearing that man's name had done that to her, given her a sudden spike of shock followed by grim determination. What was that name? Barid something? Gawyn thought he d heard it before.\n\nHe wanted Egwene out of this deathtrap. He put the Warder cloak around her shoulders. \"The best way out is directly east,\" he whispered. \"Around the mess tent-what's left of it-then onto the camp perimeter. They have a guard post setup next to what was our Traveling ground. We'll go around that to the north side.\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"I'll scout ahead, you follow,\" Gawyn said. \"If I see anything, I'll toss a stone back toward you. Listen for it hitting, all right? Count to twenty, then follow meat a slow pace.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"You can't go first, lest we run across some of those channelers. I need to take the lead.\"\n\n\"At least wear the cloak,\" she hissed.\n\n\"I'll be fine,\" he whispered, then slipped away before she could argue further. He did feel her spike of annoyance, and suspected he'd get an earful once they were out of this. Well, if they lived long enough for that to happen, he'd accept the reprimand happily.\n\nOnce he was a short distance from her, he slipped on one of the rings of the Bloodknives. He had activated it with his blood, as Leilwin had said was needed."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "She'd also said it might kill him.\n\nYou're a fool, Gawyn Trakand, he thought as a tingling sensation ran across his body. Though he'd used the ter'angreal only once before, he knew that his figure had been blurred and darkened. If people glanced in his direction, their eyes would slide away from him. It worked particularly well in shadows. For once, he was pleased that those clouds blocked out any moonlight or starlight.\n\nHe moved on, stepping carefully. Earlier in the night, when he'd first tested the ring as Egwene slept, he'd been able to pass within a few steps of sentries holding lanterns. One had looked right at Gawyn, but hadn't seen him. In this much darkness, he might as well have been invisible.\n\nThe ter'angreal allowed him to move more quickly as well. The change was slight, but noticeable. He itched to tryout the ability in a duel. How many of these Sharans could he take on his own while wearing one of these rings? A dozen? Two?\n\nThat would last right up until one of those channelers cooked you, Gawyn told himself. He collected a few pebbles off the ground to toss back toward Egwene if he spotted one of the female channelers.\n\nHe looped around the mess tent, following the path he'd scouted earlier. It was important to keep reminding himself to be careful; earlier, the ter'angreal' s power had made him too bold. It was a heady thing, knowing how easily he could move.\n\nHe had told himself he wouldn't use the rings, but that had been during battle-when he'd been tempted to try to make a name for himself. This was different. This was protecting Egwene. He could allow an exception for this."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The moment she hit the count of twenty, Egwene moved into the darkness. She wasn't as good at sneaking as Nynaeve and Perrin were, but she was from the Two Rivers. Every child in Emond's Field learned how to move in the woods without startling game.\n\nShe turned her attention to the path before her, testing with her toes-she'd removed her shoes-to avoid dried leaves or weeds. Moving this way was second nature to her; that left her mind free, unfortunately.\n\nOne of the Forsaken led the Sharans. She could only guess from his words that their entire nation followed him. This was as bad as the Seanchan. Worse. The Seanchan captured and used Aes Sedai, but they didn't slaughter the common people with such recklessness.\n\nEgwene had to survive to escape. She needed to bring this information to the White Tower. The Aes Sedai would have to face Demandred. Light send that enough of their number had escaped the battle earlier to do so.\n\nWhy had Demandred sent for Rand? Everyone knew whereto find the Dragon Reborn.\n\nEgwene reached the mess tent, then crept around it. Guards chatted in the near distance. That Sharan accent was oddly monotone, as if the people had no emotions at all. It was as if... the music was gone from their speech. Music that Egwene hadn't realized was normally there.\n\nThe ones speaking were men, so she probably didn't need to worry that they would sense her ability to channel. Still, Demandred had done it with Leane; perhaps he had a ter'angreal for the purpose. Such things existed.\n\nShe gave the men a wide berth anyway and continued on into the darkness of what had once been her camp. She moved past fallen tents, the scent of smoldering fires still lingering in the air, and crossed a path that she had taken most evenings while collecting troop reports. It was disturbing, how quickly one could go from being in a position of power to slinking through camp like a rat. Being suddenly unable to channel changed so many things."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "My authority is not drawn from my power to channel, she told herself. My strength is in control, understanding, and care. I will escape this camp, and I will continue the fight.\n\nShe repeated those words, fighting off a creeping sense of powerlessness-the feeling of despair at so many dead, the tingling between her shoulder blades, as if someone were watching her in the darkness. Light, poor Leane.\n\nSomething hit the bare earth near her. It was followed by two more pebbles dropping to the ground. Gawyn apparently didn't trust in just one. She moved quickly to the remnants of a nearby tent, half-burned, the other half of the canvas hanging from the poles.\n\nShe crouched down. At that moment she realized a half-burned body was lying on the ground mere inches from her. He was Shienaran, she saw in a flash of lightning from the rumbling clouds above, though he wore the symbol of the White Tower on his shirt. He lay with one eye up toward the sky, silent, the other side of his head burned down to the skull.\n\nAlight appeared from the direction she'd been heading. She waited, tense, as two Sharan guards approached, bearing a lantern. They didn't speak. As they turned to walk southward along their route, she could see that their armor had symbols etched across the back that mimicked the tattoos she'd seen on men earlier. These marks were quite extravagant, and so-by her best guess-the men were actually of low rank.\n\nThe system disturbed her. You could always add to a person's tattoo, but she knew of noway to remove one. Having the tattoos grow more intricate the lower one was in society implied something: people could fall from grace, but they could not rise once fallen-or born-to a lowly position."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She sensed the channeler behind her mere moments before a shield slammed between Egwene and the Source.\n\nEgwene reacted immediately. She didn't give terror time to gain purchase; she grabbed her belt knife and spun toward the woman she could sense approaching from behind. Egwene lunged, but a weave of Air snatched her arm and held it tightly; another one filled her mouth, gagging her.\n\nEgwene thrashed, but other weaves grabbed her and hauled her into the air. The knife dropped from her twitching fingers.\n\nA globe of light appeared nearby, a soft blue aura, much dimmer than that of a lantern. It had been created by a woman with dark skin and very refined features. Delicate. A small nose, a slender frame. She stood up from her crouch, and Egwene found her to be quite tall, nearly as tall as a man.\n\n\"You area dangerous little rabbit,\" the woman said, her thick, toneless accent making her difficult to understand. She emphasized words in the wrong places, and pronounced many sounds in a just-off way. She had the tattoos on her face, like delicate branches, reaching from the back of her neck forward onto her cheeks. She also wore one of those dresses shaped like a cow's bell, black, with strands of white tied a handspan below the neck.\n\nThe woman touched her arm, where Egwene's knife had nearly taken her. \"Yes,\" the woman said, \"very dangerous. Few of the Ayyad would reach fora dagger so quickly, rather than for the Source. You have been trained well.\"\n\nEgwene struggled in her bonds. It was no use. They were tight. Her heart began racing, but she was better than that. Panic would not save her. She forced herself to becalm."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "No, she thought."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No, panic won't save me... but it may alert Gawyn. She could sense that he was worried, out there somewhere in the darkness. With effort, she allowed her terror to rise. She let goof all of her careful Aes Sedai training. It was not nearly as easy as she had expected.\n\n\"You move quietly, little rabbit,\" the Sharan woman said, inspecting Egwene. \"I would never have been able to follow you if I hadn't already known you were moving in this direction.\" She walked around Egwene, looking curious. \"You watched the Wyld's little show all the way through, did you? Brave. Or stupid.\"\n\nEgwene shut her eyes and focused on her terror. Her sheer panic. She had to bring Gawyn to her. She reached within, and opened the tight little nugget of emotion she'd packed there. Her fear at being captured again by the Seanchan.\n\nShe could feel it. The a'dam on her neck. The name. Tuli. A name fora pet.\n\nEgwene had been younger then, but no more powerless than she was now. It would happen again. She would be nothing. She would have her very self stripped away. She would rather be dead. Oh, Light! Why couldn't she have died?\n\nShe'd sworn she'd never be captured like this again. She began to breathe quickly, now unable to control her terror.\n\n\"Now, now,\" the Sharan said. She seemed amused, though her tone was so flat, Egwene couldn't completely tell. \"It won't be that bad now, will it? I have to decide. Which will gain me more? Turning you over to him, or keeping you for myself? Hmmm...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Strong channeling came suddenly from the far side of the camp, where Demandred had gone. The Sharan glanced that way, but didn't seem alarmed.\n\nEgwene could feel Gawyn approaching. He was very worried. Her message had served its purpose, but he wasn't coming quickly enough, and he was farther away than she'd expected. What was wrong? Now that she'd let her worry out of its hidden place, it overwhelmed her, beating against her, a series of blows.\n\n\"Your man...\" the Sharan said. \"You have one of them. What are they called, again? Odd, that you should rely on the protection of a man, but you never reach your potential in this land, I am told. He will betaken. I've sent for him.\"\n\nAs Egwene had feared. Light! She'd led Gawyn to this. She'd led the army to disaster. Egwene squeezed her eyes shut. She'd led the White Tower to its destruction.\n\nHer parents would be slaughtered. The Two Rivers would burn.\n\nShe should have been stronger.\n\nShe should have been smarter.\n\nNo.\n\nShe had not been broken by the Seanchan. She would not be broken by this. Egwene opened her eyes and met the gaze of the Sharan in the soft blue light. Egwene wrestled her emotions to stillness, and felt the Aes Sedai calm envelop her.\n\n\"You... are an odd one,\" the Sharan whispered, still held by Egwene's eyes. So transfixed was she that the woman didn't notice when the shadow moved up behind her. A shadow that could not have been Gawyn, for he was still distant.\n\nSomething smashed into the woman's head from behind. She crumpled, slumping to the ground. The globe winked out instantly, and Egwene was free. She dropped to a crouch, fingers finding her knife."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A figure moved up to her. Egwene raised her knife and prepared herself to embrace the Source. She would draw attention if she had to. She would not betaken again.\n\nBut who was this?\n\n\"Hush,\" the figure said.\n\nEgwene recognized the voice. \"Leilwin?\"\n\n\"Others noticed this woman channeling,\" Leilwin said. \"They will come to see what she was doing. We must move!\"\n\n\"You saved me,\" Egwene whispered. \"You rescued me.\"\n\n\"I take my oaths seriously,\" Leilwin said. Then, so softly that Egwene could barely hear it, she added, \"Maybe too seriously. Such horrible omens this night...\"\n\nThey moved quickly through the camp fora few moments, until Egwene sensed Gawyn approaching. She couldn't make him out in the darkness. Finally, she whispered softly, \"Gawyn?\"\n\nSuddenly, he was there, right next to her. \"Egwene? Who did you find?\"\n\nLeilwin stiffened, then hissed softly through her teeth. Something seemed to have upset her greatly. Perhaps she was angry at having someone sneak upon her. If that was the case, Egwene shared the emotion. She'd been taking pride in her abilities, and then she'd been blindsided not only by a channeler, but now by Gawyn! Why should a boy raised in the city be able to move so well without her spotting him?\n\n\"I didn't find anyone,\" Egwene whispered. \"Leilwin found me... and she pulled me out of afire.\"\n\n\"Leilwin?\" Gawyn said, peering through the darkness. Egwene could feel his surprise, and his suspicion."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We must keep moving,\" Leilwin said.\n\n\"I will not argue with that,\" Gawyn replied. \"We're almost out. We'll want to go a little to the north, though. I left somebodies just to the right.\" \"Bodies?\" Leilwin asked.\n\n\"Half a dozen or so Sharans jumped me,\" Gawyn said.\n\nHalf a dozen? Egwene thought. He made it sound as if it were nothing. This was not the place for discussion. She joined the other two, heading out of the camp, Leilwin leading them in a specific direction. Each noise or shout from the camp made Egwene wince, worried that one of the bodies had been found. In fact, she nearly jumped all the way to the storm clouds above when someone spoke from the darkness.\n\n\"Do that be you?\"\n\n\"It is us, Bayle,\" Leilwin said softly.\n\n\"My aged grandmother!\" Bayle Domon exclaimed softly, joining them. \"You found her? Woman, you do amaze me again.\" He hesitated. \"I do wish you'd have let me come with you.\"\n\n\"My husband,\" Leilwin whispered, \"you areas brave and stout a man as any woman could wish on her crew. But you move with all of the stillness of a bear charging through a river.\"\n\nHe grunted, but joined them as they left the edge of the camp, quietly and carefully. About ten minutes away, Egwene finally trusted herself to embrace the Source. Glorying in it, she made a gateway for them and Skimmed to the White Tower.\n\nAviendha ran with the rest of the Aiel through gateways. They surged, like floodwaters, into the valley of Thakan'dar. Two waves, rushing down from opposite sides of the valley."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Aviendha did not carry a spear; that was not her place."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Instead, she was a spear.\n\nShe was joined by two men in black coats, five Wise Ones, the woman Alivia and ten of Rands sworn Aes Sedai with Warders. None of them save Alivia had responded well to having Aviendha placed above them. The Asha'man did not like having to answer to any woman, the Wise Ones didn't like being ordered by Rand at all, and the Aes Sedai still thought of Aiel channelers as inferior. They all obeyed the order anyway.\n\nRand had whispered to her in a quiet moment to watch them all for Darkfriends. Fear did not make him speak those words, but his sense of realism. Shadows could creep anywhere.\n\nThere were Trollocs herein the valley and some Myrddraal, but they had not anticipated this attack. The Aiel took advantage of their disarray and commenced a slaughter. Aviendha led her group of channelers toward the forge, that massive gray-roofed building. The Shadow-forgers turned from their inexorable movement, showing just a hint of confusion.\n\nAviendha wove Fire atone, removing its head from its shoulders. The body turned to stone, then started to crumble.\n\nThat seemed a signal to the other channelers, and Shadow-forgers through the valley began to explode. They were said to be terrible warriors when provoked, with skin that turned aside swords. That might just be rumor, as few Aiel had ever actually danced the spears with a Shadow-forger.\n\nAviendha didn't particularly want to discover the truth. She let her team end the first group of Shadow-forgers, and tried not to think too hard about the death and destruction these things had caused during their unnatural lives.\n\nThe Shadowspawn tried to mount a defense, some of the Myrddraal screaming and whipping at their Trollocs to charge and break the Aiel attack that came at them across abroad front. It would have been easier to stop a river with a handful of twigs. The Aiel didn't slow, and those Shadowspawn who tried to resist were slain in their tracks, often falling to multiple spears or arrows."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Most of the Trollocs broke and ran, fleeing before the thunder of Aiel yells. Aviendha and her channelers reached the forges and the nearby pens of dirty, lifeless-eyed captives who had been awaiting death.\n\n\"Quickly!\" Aviendha said to the Warders who accompanied her. The men broke open pens as Aviendha and the others attacked the last of the Shadow-forgers. As they died-falling to stone and dust-they dropped half-finished Thakan'dar blades to the rocks.\n\nAviendha looked upward to the right. Along serpentine path led up toward the cavern maw in the side of the mountain that loomed above. The\n\nhole there was dark. It seemed a trap that tempted light to enter, then never released it.\n\nAviendha wove Fire and Spirit, then released the weave into the air. A moment later, a gateway opened at the head of the path up to Shayol Ghul. Four figures stepped through. A woman in blue, small of stature but not of will. An aging man, white-haired and shrouded in a multihued cloak. A woman in yellow, her dark haircut short, adorned with an assortment of gemstones set in gold.\n\nAnd a tall man, hair the color of living coals. Fie wore his coat of red and gold, but under it a simple Two Rivers shirt. What he had become and what he had been, wrapped together in one. He carried two swords, like a Shienaran. One looked as if it were glass; he wore it upon his back. The other was the sword of the Treekiller, King Laman, tied at his waist. He carried that because of her. Fool man.\n\nAviendha raised her hand to him, and he raised his in return. That would be their only farewell if he failed in his task or she died during hers. With a last look, she turned away from him and toward her duty."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Two of her Aes Sedai had linked and created a gateway so that the Warders could usher the captives to safety. Many needed to be prodded into motion. They stumbled forward, eyes nearly as dead as those of the Shadow-forgers.\n\n\"Check inside the forge, too,\" Aviendha said, motioning to a few of the Warders. They charged in, Aes Sedai following. Weaves of the One Power shook the building as they found more Shadow-forgers, and the two Asha'man quickly went in as well.\n\nAviendha scanned the valley. The battle had become uglier; there were more Shadowspawn at the corridor leading out of the valley. These had been given more time to prepare and form up. Ituralde led his forces in behind the Aiel, securing the sections of the valley already taken.\n\nPatience, Aviendha thought to herself. Her job would not be to join that battle ahead, but to guard Rand's back as he ascended and entered the Pit of Doom.\n\nShe worried about one thing. Couldn't the Forsaken just Travel directly into the cavern itself? Rand didn't seem worried about that, but he was also very distracted by what he had to do. Perhaps she should join him and...\n\nShe frowned, looking up. What was that shadow?\n\nHigh above, the sun shone in a turbulent sky. Some storm clouds, in patches, some deep black, others brilliant white. It wasn't a cloud that had suddenly obscured the sun, however, but something solid and black sliding into place.\n\nGawyn stiffened, and Egwene cutoff, listening. Feet, shuffling. The two of them pulled back, watching as tenor twelve captives were led into an open space near where the command tent had stood. Sharans placed torches on poles around the ragged prisoners. A few of these were soldiers, beaten to the point where they could barely walk. There were cooks and laborers as well. They had been lashed, their trousers frayed. All of their shirts had been removed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "On their backs, someone had tattooed a symbol that Egwene did not recognize. At least, she thought they were tattoos. The symbols might have been burned into them.\n\nAs the captives were gathered, someone yelled nearby. Ina few minutes, a dark-skinned Sharan guard walked up, dragging a young messenger boy he d apparently found hiding in camp. He ripped off the boys shirt and shoved him, crying, to the ground. The Sharans, oddly, wore clothing that had a large diamond shape cutout of the back. Egwene could see that the guard bore a mark on his own back, a tattoo she could barely make out against his dark skin. His clothing was very formal, with a large, stiff robe that came almost to his knees. It didn't have sleeves, but underneath he wore a shirt, with a diamond cut-out, that had long sleeves.\n\nAnother Sharan came out of the darkness, and this man was almost completely naked. He wore ripped trousers, but no shirt. Instead of a tattoo on his back, he had tattoos all across his shoulders. They crept up his neck, like twisted vines, before reaching up to cup his jaw and cheeks. They looked like a hundred twisted hands, long fingers with claws holding his head from below.\n\nThis man went over to the kneeling messenger boy. The other guards shuffled; they weren't comfortable with this fellow, whoever he was. He held out a hand, sneering.\n\nThe boy's back burned, suddenly, with a tattoo mark like that of the other captives. Smoke rose, and the boy cried out in pain. Gawyn exhaled softly in shock. That man with the tattoos running up onto his face... that man could channel.\n\nSeveral of the guards muttered. She could almost understand the words, but they had a thick accent. The channeler snapped like a feral dog. The guards stepped back, and the channeler prowled off, disappearing into the shadows. *"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Light! Egwene thought.\n\nRustling in the darkness resolved into two women in the wide silk dresses. One had lighter skin, and as Egwene searched, she found that some\n\nAviendha felt a chill and found herself trembling as the light slipped away. Darkness, true darkness, fell.\n\nSoldiers across the field looked up in awe, and even fear. The light went out. The end of the world had come.\n\nChanneling came suddenly from the other end of the wide valley. Aviendha spun, shaking off her awe. The ground nearby was littered with torn garments, dropped weapons and corpses. All of the fighting was at the mouth of the valley, distant from her, where the Aiel were trying to push the Shadowspawn back into the pass.\n\nThough Aviendha couldn't see much through the darkness, she could tell soldiers were staring at the sky. Even the Trollocs looked awestruck. But then the solid blackness began to move in the sky, revealing first the edge of the sun, and then the sun itself. Light! The end was not upon them.\n\nThe battle at the mouth of the valley resumed, but it was obviously difficult. Making the Trollocs retreat through such narrow confines was like trying to shove a horse through a small crack in a wall. Impossible, unless you started doing some carving.\n\n\"There!\" Aviendha said, pointing toward the side of the valley, behind the Aiel lines. \"I sense channeling by a woman.\"\n\n\"Light, but she's powerful,\" Nesune breathed.\n\n\"Circle!\" Aviendha yelled. \"Now!\"\n\nThe others linked, feeding Aviendha control of the circle. Power filled her, unimaginable power. It was as if she drew in a breath, but just kept being able to take in more air, filling, expanding, crackling with energy. She was a thunderstorm, avast sea of the One Power."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She thrust her hands forward, letting loose a raw weave, only half-formed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This was almost too much power for her to shape. Air and Fire spurted from her hands, a column of it as wide as a man with arms outstretched. The fire flared as a thick, hot near-liquid. Not balefire-she was smarter than that but dangerous nonetheless. The air contained the fire in a concentrated mass of destruction.\n\nThe column streaked across the battlefield, melting the stone beneath and starting corpses aflame. A huge swath of fog vanished with a hiss, and the ground shook as the column plowed into the side of the valley wall where the enemy channeler-Aviendha could only assume it was one of the Forsaken, from her strength-had been attacking the back ranks of Aiel.\n\nAviendha released the weave, her skin slick with sweat. A smoldering black column of smoke rose from the valley wall. Molten rock trickled down the slope. She grew still, waiting, alert. The One Power inside of her actually started to strain, as if trying to escape her. Was that because some of the energy she used came from men? Never before had the One Power seemed to want to destroy her.\n\nShe had only a brief warning: a frantic moment of channeling from the other side of the valley, followed by an enormous rush of wind.\n\nAviendha sliced that wind down the center with an invisible weave the size of a great forest tree. She followed it with another blast of fire, this time more controlled. No, she didn't dare use balefire. Rand had warned her. That could widen the Bore, break the framework of reality in a place where that membrane was already thin.\n\nHer enemy didn't have the same restriction. The woman's next attack came as a white-hot bar, narrowly missing Aviendha-drilling through the air a finger's width from her head-before hitting the wall of the forge behind. The balefire sliced a wide swath of stone and brick from the wall, and the building collapsed with a crash."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Good riddance, Aviendha thought, throwing herself to the ground."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Spread out!\" she ordered the others. \"Don't give her good targets!\" She channeled, stirring up air to create a tempest of dust and debris in front of them. Then she used a weave to mask the fact that she was holding to the One Power and hide her from her enemy. She scuttled in a low crouch behind some nearby cover: a heap of slag and broken bits of iron, waiting to be smelted.\n\nBalefire struck again, hitting the stony ground where she'd been before. It punctured stone as easily as a spear went through a melon. Aviendha's companions had all taken cover, and they continued to feed her their strength. Such power. It was distracting.\n\nShe judged the source of the attacks. \"Be ready to follow,\" she said to the others, then made a gateway to the point where the weave had begun. \"Come through after me, but take cover immediately!\"\n\nShe leaped through, skirts swishing, the One Power held like thunder somehow contained. She landed on a slope overlooking the battlefield. Below, Maidens and men fought Trollocs; it looked as if the Aiel were holding back avast black flood.\n\nAviendha didn't spare time for more than a quick glance. She dug into the ground with a primal weave of Earth and ripped up a horse-sized chunk of rock, popping it into the air. The beam that came for her a second later struck the chunk of rock.\n\nBalefire was a dangerous spear to wield. Sometimes it cut, but if it hit a distinct object-a person, for example-it caused the entire thing to flash and vanish. The balefire burned Aviendha's chunk from existence in a flash, dropping motes of glowing dust that soon vanished. Behind her, the men and women in her circle dashed through her gateway and took cover."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aviendha barely had time to notice that nearby, cracks had appeared in the rock. Cracks that seemed to look down into darkness. As the bar of light faded in Aviendha's vision, she released a burning column of fire. This time, she met flesh, burning away a coppery-skinned, slender woman in a red dress. Two other women nearby cursed, scrambling away. Aviendha launched a second attack at the others.\n\nOne of the two-the strongest-made a weave with such skill and speed that Aviendha barely caught sight of it. The weave went up in front of her column of fire, and the result was an explosion of blistering steam. Aviendha's fire was extinguished, and she gasped, temporarily blinded.\n\nBattle instincts took over. Obscured by the cloud of steam, she dropped to her knees, then rolled to the side while grabbing a handful of rocks and tossing them away from her to create a distraction.\n\nIt worked. As she blinked tears from her eyes, a white-hot bar struck toward the sound of the rocks. Those dark cracks spread further.\n\nAviendha blew the steam away with a weave of Air while still blinking tears. She could see well enough to distinguish two black shapes crouching nearby on the rocks. One turned toward her, gasped-seeing the attack weaves that Aviendha was making-then vanished.\n\nThere was no gateway. The person just seemed to fold upon herself, and Aviendha sensed no channeling. She did feel something else, a faint... something. A tremble to the air that wasn't entirely physical.\n\n\"No!\" the second woman said. Just a blur to Aviendhas tear-streaked eyes. \"Don't-\"\n\nAviendha's vision cleared just enough to make out the woman's features-along face and dark hair-as her weave struck the woman. The woman's limbs ripped from her body. A smoldering arm spun in the air, creating a swirl of black smoke before hitting nearby."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aviendha coughed, then released the circle. \"Healing!\" she said, struggling to her feet.\n\nBera Harkin reached her first, and a Healing weave set Aviendha trembling. She panted, and her reddened skin-her singed eyes-were repaired. She nodded in thanks to Bera, whom she could now see clearly.\n\nAhead of her, Sarene-an Aes Sedai with a teardrop face and numerous dark braids-stepped up to the corpses Aviendha had made, her Warder Vitalien close by her side. She shook her head. \"Duhara and Falion. Dreadlords now.\"\n\n\"There's a difference between Dreadlords and Black Ajah?\" Amys asked.\n\n\"Of course,\" Sarene said with a calm tone.\n\nNearby, the others still held the One Power, expecting another attack.\n\nAviendha didn't think there would be one. She had heard that gasp of surprise, sensed the panic in the way the final woman-the strongest of the three had fled. Perhaps she hadnt anticipated facing such powerful resistance so quickly.\n\nSarene kicked at an arm that had been Falion's. \"Better to have taken them alive for questioning. I am certain we could have learned the identity of that third woman. Did anyone recognize her?\"\n\nMembers of the group shook their heads. \"She was not anyone on the list of Black Ajah who escaped,\" Sarene said, taking the arm of her Warder. She has a distinctive face so bulbous, and lacking any qualities of charm. I am certain I would remember her.\"\n\nShe was powerful, Aviendha said. Very powerful.\" Aviendha would have guessed her as one of the Forsaken. But that certainly hadn't been Moghedien, and it didn't match the description of Graendal."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Proceed with the plot in your role as storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 3"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't see any other choice,\" Bashere said. \"The city is our only hope.\" The city?\"Talmanes said, hurrying up, panting.\" You can't be talking about pulling back into the city.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" Elayne asked.\n\n\"Your Majesty, our infantry have just managed to surround a Trolloc army! They're going at it tooth and claw! We have no reserves left, and our cavalry is exhausted. We'd never manage to disengage from that contest without sustaining heavy losses. And then our survivors would be holed up in the city, trapped between two armies of the Shadow.\"\n\n\"Light,\" Elayne whispered. \"It's like they planned it.\"\n\n\"I think they did,\" Tam said softly.\n\n\"Not this again,\" Bashere bellowed. He didn't seem like himself at all, though she knew that Saldaeans could have tempers. Bashere almost seemed like a different person. His wife had stepped up to his side, arms folded, and both confronted Tam.\n\n\"Have your say, Tam,\" Elayne said.\n\n\"I-\" Bashere began, but Elayne held up a hand.\n\n\"He knew, Your Majesty,\" Tam said softly. \"Its the only thing that makes sense. He hasn't been using the Aiel to scout.\"\n\n\"What?\" Elayne said. \"Of course he has. I read the scout reports.\"\n\n\"The reports are faked, or at least tampered with,\" Tam said. \"I talked to Bael. He said that none of his Aiel had been sent on scouting duty the last few days of our march. He said he thought my men had been doing it, but they hadn't. I talked to Arganda, who thought Whitecloaks had been doing it, but Galad said that it was the Band.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It wasn't us,\" Talmanes said, frowning. \"None of my men have been used for scout details.\"\n\nAll eyes turned to Bashere.\n\n\"Who,\" Elayne asked, \"has been watching our rear, Bashere?\"\n\n\"I...\" He looked up, anger flaring again. \"I have the reports somewhere! I showed them to you, and you approved them!\"\n\n\"It's all too perfect,\" Elayne said. She felt a sudden chill, right at the middle point of her back. It spread down through her body, a wave of icy wind blowing through her veins. They'd been trapped, perfectly. Channelers run to exhaustion, soldiers committed to a close-fought battle, a second army left to approach in secret a day ahead of where falsified reports said they would be...\n\nDavram Bashere was a Darkfriend.\n\n\"Bashere is relieved of duty,\" she said.\n\n\"But-\" he sputtered. His wife put her hand on his arm, looking at Elayne with fire in her eyes. Bashere leveled a finger at Tam. \"I did send the Two Rivers men! Tam al'Thor must be the culprit. He's trying to distract you, Your Majesty!\"\n\n\"Talmanes,\" Elayne said, feeling cold to the bone. \"Have five Redarms put Lord Bashere and his wife under guard.\"\n\nBashere let out a string of curses. Elayne was surprised at how calm she felt. Her emotions were deadened. She watched him be dragged away.\n\nThere wasn't time for this. \"Gather our commanders,\" Elayne said to the others. \" Galad, Arganda... Finish off that Trolloc army above the city! Spread the word to the men. Throw everything we have into this battle! If we can't crush the Trollocs in the next hour, we die here!"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Talmanes, those dragons can't be much use against the Trollocs now that they're surrounded-you risk hitting our men. Have Aludra move all of the dragon carts upon the tallest hill to pound the new enemy coming up from the south. Tell the Ogier to make a cordon around the hill the dragons are on; we can't have them damaged. Tam, put your Two Rivers bowmen on the surrounding hills. And have the Legion of the Dragon form up the front lines, crossbowmen in the lead, heavy cavalry behind. Light willing, that will be enough to buy us time to finish off the surrounded Trollocs.\"\n\nIt would be close. Light! If that second army surrounded her men... Elayne took a deep breath, then opened herself to saidar. The One Power flooded into her, though she could hold only a trickle. She could act as if she weren't exhausted, but her body knew the truth.\n\nShe would lead them anyway.\n\nCHAPTER"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "fl.\n\nFriendly Fire\n\nGareth Bryne strode through the camp he had setup on the Arafellin side, several hundred paces on the Kandor border east of the ford, ignoring soldiers who tried to salute him. Siuan hastened atone side, a messenger delivering reports at his other. They were trailed by a flurry of guards and attendants carrying maps, ink and paper.\n\nThe whole burning place shook with explosions of the Power. Crashing racket and calamity... it was like being in the middle of a rockslide.\n\nHe'd stopped being bothered by the scent of smoke. It was pervasive. At least some of the fires were putout; those Seanchan channelers had setup by the river and were drawing out streams of water.\n\nNearby, a rack of polearms tumbled to the ground in a clatter as a surge of the One Power hit in the camp nearby. He stumbled, and earth sprayed around him and Siuan, pebbles clattering against his helmet and breastplate. \"Keep talking, man,\" he snapped at Holcom, the messenger.\n\n\"Er, yes, my Lord.\" The spindly man had a face like a horse. \"The Aes Sedai on the Red, Green, and Blue hilltops are all holding. The Gray have fallen back, and the White report that they're running out of strength.\" \"The other Aes Sedai will be tiring as well,\" Siuan said. \"I'm not surprised that the Whites are the first to admit it. It won't be a point of shame to them, merely another fact.\"\n\nBryne grunted, ignoring another spray of earth as it fell over them. He had to keep moving. The Shadow had too many gateways now. They'd try to strike at his command centers. That was what he'd do, if he were them. The best counter to that strategy was to not have a command center, at least not one that was easy to find."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "All things considered, the battle was going according to plan."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was a surprise, sometimes, when that happened; on a battlefield, you expected to have to rebuild your tactics from the ground up at every turn-but for once, everything had gone smoothly.\n\nAes Sedai were pounding the Sharans from the hilltops south of the ford, augmented by a steady stream of projectiles from archers stationed just below them on the slopes. Because of that, the Shadow's commander-Demandred himself-couldn't devote all his troops against the defenders at the river. Nor could he bring all his troops against the Aes Sedai-they would Travel away-so committing himself fully there would expose him with very little gain. Instead, he'd split his forces, sending the Trollocs off his right flank toward the hills-they would sustain heavy losses, but he'd keep the Aes Sedai pressed-and bringing his Sharans forward to engage the bulk of the White Tower troops at the river.\n\nThe Seanchan occupied most of the enemy channelers'attention. This did not prevent some Sharan channelers from lobbing fire at Bryne's camp across the river. There was no use worrying about being hit. He was as safe here as he would be anywhere, other than perhaps retreating all the way to the White Tower. He couldn't stand the idea of being safe in a room somewhere, miles from the battlefield.\n\nLight, he thought. That's how commanders will probably do it in the future. A secure command position accessed only by gateways. But a general needed to feel the flow of the battlefield. He couldn't do that from miles away.\n\n\"How well are the pikemen on each of the hills doing?\" he demanded.\n\n\"Very well, my Lord,\" said Holcom. \"As well as can be expected after hours of holding off Trollocs.\" Bryne had placed defensive lines of pikemen halfway up each of the hills; any Trollocs that managed to get through the cordon could be picked off by archers above, without having to disturb the work of the Aes Sedai. \"The pikes defending the Red Ajah on the middle hill will be needing reinforcement soon, though; they lost a fair number on the last assault.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They'll have to hang on a bit longer. Those Reds are nasty enough to take care of anymore Trollocs that breakthrough the pike formations.\" He hoped. Another explosion flattened a tent nearby. \"How about the archer squadrons up there?\" Bryne kicked aside a fallen halberd.\n\n\"Some are getting low on arrows, my Lord.\"\n\nWell, he couldn't do much about that. He glanced toward the ford, but\n\nit was aright mess of confusion. It rankled him to be this close to the fighting and not know how things were going for his troops.\n\n\"Does anyone have information about what's happening at the ford?\" he bellowed, turning toward his aides. \"I can't see a Light-blasted thing, just a churning of bodies and those balls of fire shooting back and forth, blinding us all!\"\n\nHolcom paled. \"Those Seanchan women are channeling like they've got red-hot irons up... I mean, they're giving the Sharans a hard time, my Lord. Our left flank just took a lot of casualties, but they seem to be fighting back admirably now.\"\n\n\"Didn't I put Joni in command of the lancers there?\"\n\n\"Captain Shagrin is dead, my Lord,\" said another messenger, stepping forward. He had afresh cut on his scalp. \"I've just come from there.\"\n\nBurn me. Well, Joni had always wanted to fall in battle. Bryne kept his emotions in check. \"Who commands now?\"\n\n\"Uno Nomesta,\" the messenger said. \"He pulled us together after Joni fell, but sends warning that they're being hard-pressed.\"\n\n\"Light, Nomesta's not even an officer!\" Still, he'd been training heavy cavalry for years, and there probably wasn't a better man in the saddle than him. \"All right, get back there and tell him I'm giving him some reinforcements.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bryne turned back to Holcom. \"Get over to Captain Denhold and have him send his cavalry reserve squadron across the ford to beef up our left flank. Let's see what those Illianers can do! We can't lose this river!\"\n\nThe messenger rushed off. I'll have to do something to take the pressure off those Aes Sedai soon. He bellowed, \"Annah, where are you?\"\n\nTwo soldiers talking nearby were pushed aside as a heavyset young woman-a former merchant's guard and now foot soldier and messenger serving General Bryne-shoved through. \"My Lord?\"\n\n\"Annah, go beg that Imperial monster of a Seanchan leader if she'd be ever so kind as to lend us some of her bloody cavalry.\"\n\n\"Shall I phrase it exactly that way?\" Annah asked, saluting, a smile on her lips.\n\n\"If you do, girl, I'll throw you off a cliff and let Yukiri Sedai test a few of her new falling weaves on you. Go!\"\n\nThe messenger grinned, then dashed off toward the Traveling ground for passage.\n\nSiuan eyed Bryne. \"You're growing grouchy.\"\n\n\"You're a good influence on me,\" he snapped, glancing up as a shadow passed above. He reached for his sword, expecting to see another flight of\n\nDraghkar. Instead, it was only one of those Seanchan flying beasts. He relaxed.\n\nA fireball knocked the creature from the sky. It spun, flapping burning wings. Bryne cursed, jumping back as the monstrous animal crashed into the path just ahead, where the messenger Annah was running. The animal's corpse rolled over her and crashed through one of the supply tents, which was filled with soldiers and quartermasters. The rakeris rider slapped the ground a fraction of a moment later."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bryne recovered his wits and leaped forward, stooping beneath a fallen section of cloth and tent poles that covered the path."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Two of his guards found a soldier half-pinned by the dead beast's wing and pulled him free, Siuan kneeling and removing her angreal from her pouch to perform Healing.\n\nBryne moved to where Annah had fallen. He found her crushed where the fallen beast had rolled. \"Burn it!\" He shoved aside thought for the dead to consider what to do next. \"I need someone to go to the Seanchan!\"\n\nOf his entourage, only two guards and one clerk remained in camp. He needed the Seanchan to give him some more cavalry; he was beginning to feel that a great deal depended on keeping those Aes Sedai on the hills safe. After all, the Amyrlin was up therewith them.\n\nLooks like we're going ourselves,\"Bryne said, leaving Annah's corpse. Siuan, are you strong enough to make a gateway with that angreal?\"\n\nShe stood, masking her exhaustion, but he could see it. \"I can, though it will be so small we'll have to crawl through. I don't know this area well enough. We'll have to move back to the center of camp.\"\n\nBurn me!\"Bryne said, turning as a series of explosions sounded from the river.\" We don't have time for this.\"\n\n\"I can go find us some more messengers,\" a guard said. The other was helping the soldier Siuan had Healed. The man stood on wobbly feet.\n\n\"I don't know if there are more messengers to be had,\" Bryne said. \"Let's just-\"\n\nTU go.\"\n\nBryne saw Min Farshaw rising to her feet nearby and dusting herself off. He d almost forgotten that he'd set her helping as a clerk for one of the supply regiments."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It doesn't look like I'll be clerking herein the near future,\" Min said, inspecting the fallen supply tent. \"I can run as well as any of your messengers. What do you want me to do?\"\n\n\"Find the Seanchan Empress,\" Bryne said. \" Her camp is a few miles north of hereon the Arafellin side. Go to the Traveling ground; they'll\n\nknow whereto send you. Tell the Empress she needs to send me some cavalry. Our reserves are depleted.\"\n\nTil do it,\" Min said.\n\nShe wasn't a soldier. Well, it seemed half of his army hadn't been soldiers until a few weeks back. \"Go,\" he said, then smiled. \"I'll count the day's work toward what you owe me.\"\n\nShe blushed. Did she think he'd let a woman forget her oath? It didn't matter to him whose company she kept. An oath was an oath.\n\nMin ran through the army's back lines. The camp had more tents and carts-brought in from supply dumps in Tar Valon or Tear-to replace the ones lost during the initial Sharan assault. Those proved to be obstacles to weave around as she sought out the Traveling ground.\n\nThe ground was a series of roped-off squares, numbered with painted planks shoved in the ground. A quartet of women in gray shawls spoke together in hushed voices as one of their number held open a gateway fora supply cart laden with arrows. The placid oxen didn't lookup as a cometlike ball of fire hit the ground nearby, hurling glowing red stones into the air and across a pile of bedrolls, which began to smolder.\n\n\"I need to go to the Seanchan army,\" Min said to the Grays. \"Lord Bryne's orders.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One of the Gray sisters, Ashmanaille, looked at her. She took in Min's breeches and curls, then frowned. \"Elmindreda? Sweet thing, what are you doing here?\"\n\n\"Sweet thing?\" one of the others asked. \"She's one of the clerks, isn't she?\" \"I need to go to the Seanchan army,\" Min said, breathing deeply from her run. \"Lord Bryne's orders.\"\n\nThis time, they seemed to hear her. One of the women sighed. \"Square four?\" she asked the others.\n\n\"Three, dear,\" Ashmanaille said. \"A gateway could be opening to four from Illian any moment.\"\n\n\"Three,\" the first said, waving Min over. A small gateway split the air there. \"All messengers crawl,\" she noted. \"We have to conserve strength; gateways need to be made as small as reasonable.\"\n\nThis is reasonable? Min thought with annoyance, running to the small hole. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled through.\n\nShe came out in a ring of grass that had been burned black to mark its location. A pair of Seanchan guards stood with tasseled spears nearby, their\n\nfaces obscured by insectile helmets. Min started to walk forward, but one held up a hand.\n\n\"I'm a messenger from General Bryne,\" she said.\n\n\"New messengers wait here,\" one of the guards said.\n\n\"It's urgent!\"\n\n\"New messengers wait here.\"\n\nShe received no further explanation, so she crossed her arms-stepping out of the black circle, in case another gateway opened-and waited. She could seethe river from here, and a large military encampment stretched out along its banks. The Seanchan could make a big difference to this battle, Min thought. There are so many of them. She was far from the battle here, a few miles north of Bryne's camp, but still close enough to seethe flashes of light as channelers traded deadly weaves."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She found herself fidgeting, so she forced herself to remain still. Explosions from channeling sounded like dull thumps. The sounds came after the flashes of light, like thunder trailing behind lightning. Why was that?\n\nIt doesn't really matter, Min thought. She needed cavalry for Bryne. At least she was doing something. She had spent the last week pitching in wherever she found that an extra hand was needed. It was surprising how much there was to do in a war camp other than fighting. It wasn't work that had required her, specifically, but it was better than sitting in Tear and worrying about Rand... or being angry at him for forbidding her to go to Shayol Ghul.\n\nYou'd have been a liability there, Min told herself. You know it. He couldn't worry about saving the world and protecting her from the Forsaken at the same time. Sometimes, it was hard not to feel insignificant in a world of channelers like Rand, Elayne and Aviendha.\n\nShe glanced at the guards. Only one had an image hovering above his head. A bloodied stone. He'd die by falling from someplace high. It seemed like decades since she'd seen anything hopeful around a person's head. Death, destruction, symbols of fear and darkness.\n\n\"And who is she?\" a slurred Seanchan voice asked. A sul'dam had approached, one without a damane. The woman held an a'dam in her hand, tapping the silvery collar against her other palm.\n\n\"New messenger,\" the guard said. \"She has not come through the gateways before.\"\n\nMin took a deep breath. \"I was sent by General Bryne-\"\n\n\"He was supposed to clear all messengers with us,\" the sul'dam said. She was dark of skin, with curls that came down to her shoulders. \"The Empress-may she live forever-must be protected. Our camp will be orderly. Every messenger cleared, no opportunities for assassins.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am no assassin,\" Min said flatly.\n\n\"And the knives in your sleeves?\" the suldam asked.\n\nMin started.\n\n\"The way your cuffs droop make it obvious, child,\" the suldam said, though she was no older than Min herself.\n\n\"A woman would be a fool to walk a battlefield without some kind of weapon,\" Min said. \"Let me deliver my message to one of the generals. The other messenger was killed when one of your raken was hit and fell from the sky onto our camp.\"\n\nThe suldam raised an eyebrow. \"I am Catrona,\" she said. \"And you will do exactly as I say while in camp.\" She turned and waved for Min to follow.\n\nMin hurried gratefully behind the woman as they crossed the ground. The Seanchan camp was very different from Bryne's. They had raken to fly their messages and reports, not to mention an empress to protect. They had set their camp away from the hostilities. It also looked far tidier than Brynes camp, which had been nearly destroyed and rebuilt, and which included people from many different countries and military backgrounds. The Seanchan camp was homogeneous, full of trained soldiers.\n\nAt least that was the way Min decided to interpret its orderliness. Seanchan soldiers stood in ranks, silent, awaiting the call to battle. Sections of the camp had been marked with posts and ropes, everything clearly organized. Nobody bustled about. Men walked with quiet purpose or waited at parade rest. Speak what criticism one would about the Seanchan-and Min had a number of things she could add to that conversation-they certainly were organized.\n\nThe suldam led Min to a section of camp where several men stood at ledgers set on tall desks. Wearing robes and bearing the half-shaved head of upper servants, they quietly made notations. Immodestly dressed young women carrying lacquered trays threaded their way between the desks, placing on them thin white cups of steaming black liquid."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Have we lost any raken in the last little while?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catrona asked the men. \"Was one hit by an enemy marathdamane while in flight, and could it have crashed into General Brynes camp?\"\n\n\"A report just came in of such a thing,\" a servant said, bowing. \"I am surprised that you have heard of it.\"\n\nCatrona's eyebrow inched a little higher as she inspected Min.\n\n\"You hadn't expected the truth?\" Min asked.\n\n\"No\" the suldam said. She moved her hand, replacing a knife into its sheath at her side. \"Follow.\"\n\nMin let out a breath. Well, she had dealt with Aiel before; the Seanchan couldn't possibly be as prickly as they were. Catrona led the way along another path in the camp, and Min found herself growing anxious. How long had it been since Bryne had sent her? Was it too late?\n\nLight, but the Seanchan liked things well guarded. There were two soldiers at every intersection of paths, standing with raised spears, watching through those awful helmets of theirs. Shouldn't all of these men be outfighting? Eventually, Catrona led her to an actual building they had constructed here. It wasn't a tent. It had walls that looked to be draped silk, stretched into wooden frames, a wooden floor and a ceiling covered with shingles. It probably broke down quickly to be transported, but it seemed frivolous.\n\nThe guards here were big fellows in armor of black and red. They had a wicked appearance. Catrona passed them as they saluted her. She and Min entered the building, and Catrona bowed. Not to the ground-the Empress wasn't in the room, it appeared-but still deep, since many members of the Blood were inside. Catrona glanced at Min. \"Bow, you fool!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I think I'll be fine standing,\" Min said, folding her arms as she regarded the commanders inside. Standing at their forefront was a familiar figure. Mat wore silken Seanchan clothing-she had heard he was in this camp-but he topped it with his familiar hat. He had an eyepatch covering one eye. So that viewing had finally come to pass, had it?\n\nMat looked up at her and grinned. \"Min!\"\n\n\"I'm a total fool,\" she said. \"I could have just said I knew you. They'd have brought me right here without all of the fuss.\"\n\n\"I don't know, Min,\" Mat said. \"They rather like fuss around here. Don't you, Galgan?\"\n\nA wide-shouldered man with a thin crest of white hair on his otherwise shaven head eyed Mat, as if uncertain what to make of him.\n\n\"Mat,\" Min said, clearing her mind. \"General Bryne needs cavalry.\"\n\nMat grunted. \"I don't doubt it. He's been pushing his troops hard, even the Aes Sedai. Man ought to be given a medal for that. I've never seen one of those women budge so much as to take a step indoors when a man suggests, even if she's standing in the rain. First Legion, Galgan?\"\n\n\"They will do,\" Galgan said, \"so long as the Sharans don't manage to get across the ford.\"\n\n\"They won't,\" Mat said. \"Bryne has setup a good defensive position that should punish the Shadow, with a little encouragement. Laero lendhae an indemela.\"\n\n\"What was that?\" Galgan asked, frowning.\n\nMin missed it, too. Something about a flag? She had been studying the Old Tongue lately, but Mat spoke it so quickly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hmm, what?\" Mat said. \"You've never heard it before? It's a saying of the Fallen Army of Kardia.\"\n\n\"Who?\" Galgan sounded baffled.\n\n\"Never mind,\" Mat said. \"Tylee, would you care to lead your legion onto the battlefield, assuming the good General approves?\"\n\n\"I would be honored, Raven Prince,\" said a woman in a breastplate standing nearby, four plumes rising from the helmet she held under her arm. \"I have wanted to watch the actions of this Gareth Bryne more directly.\"\n\nMat glanced to Galgan, who rubbed his chin, inspecting his maps. \"Take your legion, Lieutenant-General Khirgan, as the Raven Prince suggests.\" \"And,\" Mat added, \"we need to watch those Sharan archers. They're going to move north along the river fora better shot at Bryne's right flank.\"\n\n\"How can you be certain?\"\n\n\"It's just obvious,\" Mat said, tapping at the map. \"Send a raken to make sure, if you want.\"\n\nGalgan hesitated, then gave the order. Min wasn't certain that she was needed any longer, so she started to walkaway, but Mat caught her by the arm. \"Hey. I could... uh... use you, Min.\"\n\n\"Use me?\" she asked flatly.\n\n\"Make use of you,\" Mat said. \"That's what I meant. I've had trouble with the words coming out of my mouth lately. Only the stupid ones seem to make it. Anyway, could you... uh... you know...\"\n\n\"I don't see anything new around you,\" she said, \"though I assume the eye on a balance scale finally makes sense to you.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Mat said, wincing. \"That one is bloody obvious. What about Galgan?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A dagger rammed through the heart of a raven.\"\n\n\"Bloody ashes...\"\n\n\"I don't think it means you,\" she added. \"I can't say why.\"\n\nGalgan was speaking with some lesser nobles. At least, they had more hair than he did, which was the Seanchan mark of a lesser. Their tones were hushed, and Galgan would occasionally glance over at Mat.\n\n\"He doesn't know what to make of me,\" Mat said softly.\n\n\"How very uncommon. I can't think of anyone else who has reacted that way to you, Mat.\"\n\n\"Ha ha. You're sure that bloody dagger doesn't mean me? Ravens... well, ravens kind of mean me, right? Sometimes? I'm the flaming Prince of the bloody Ravens now.\"\n\n\"It's not you.\"\n\n\"He's trying to decide when to assassinate me,\" Mat said softly, gaze narrowing toward Galgan. I ve been put right beneath him in the army, and he worries I will supplant him. Tuon says he's a dedicated soldier, so he'll wait until after the Last Battle to strike.\"\n\n\"That's awful!\"\n\n\"I know,\" Mat said. \"He won't play cards with me first. I was hoping I could win him over. Lose on purpose a few times.\"\n\n\"I don't think you could manage that.\"\n\n\"Actually, I figured out how to lose bloody ages ago.\" He seemed to be completely serious. \"Tuon says it would be a sign of disrespect if he didn't try to kill me. They're insane, Min. They're all bloody insane.\"\n\n\"I'm sure Egwene would help you escape if you ask, Mat.\"\n\n\"Well, I didn't say they weren't fun. Just insane.\" He straightened his hat. \"But if anymore of them bloody well try to-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He cutoff as the guards outside the door dropped to their knees, then completely prostrated themselves on the ground. Mat sighed. \"\"Say the name of Darkness, and his eye is upon you.\" Yalu kazath d'Zamon patra Dae-seia asa darshi.\"\n\n\"... What?\" Min asked.\n\n\"You don't know that one either?\" Mat said. \"Doesn't anyone bloody read anymore?\"\n\nThe Seanchan Empress stepped through the door. Min was surprised to see her wearing not a dress, but wide silvery trousers. Or... well, maybe it was a dress. Min couldn't tell if those were skirts that had been divided for riding, or if it was a pair of trousers with very enveloping legs. Fortuona's top was of tight scarlet silk, and over it she wore an open-fronted blue robe with a very long train. It seemed the clothing of a warrior, a kind of uniform.\n\nThe people in the room fell to their knees, then bowed themselves down all the way to the floor, even General Galgan. Mat stayed standing.\n\nGritting her teeth, Min went down on one knee. The woman was the Empress, after all. Min wouldn't bow to Mat or the generals, but it was only proper to show respect to Fortuona.\n\nWho is this one, Knotai?\"Fortuona asked, curious.\" She thinks herself high.\"\n\n\"Oh, well,\" Mat said idly, \"she's just the Dragon Reborn's woman.\" Catrona, who at the side of the room had bowed herself to the ground, made a strangled sound. She looked up at Min with bulging eyes.\n\nLight, Min thought. She probably thinks she's offended me or something\n\n\"Flow curious,\" Fortuona said. \"That would make her your equal, Knotai. Of course, you seem to have forgotten to bow again.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My father would be mortified,\" Mat said. \"He always did pride himself on my memory.\"\n\n\"You embarrass me in public again.\"\n\n\"Only as much as I embarrass myself.\" He smiled, then hesitated, as if thinking through those words a second time.\n\nThe Empress smiled as well, though she looked distinctly predatory. She moved into the room, and the people rose, so Min climbed to her feet. Mat immediately began to push her toward the door.\n\n\"Mat, wait,\" Min whispered.\n\n\"Just keep moving,\" he said. \"Don't risk her deciding to snatch you up. She's not particularly good at letting things go, once she has them in hand.\" He actually sounded proud, saying that.\n\nYou're as crazy as they are, Min thought. \"Mat, a bloody flower.\"\n\n\"What?\" he said, still shoving her.\n\n\"A bloody flower around her head,\" Min said. \"A death lily. Someone is going to try to kill her very soon.\"\n\nMat froze. Fortuona turned sharply.\n\nMin didn't realize that two guards were moving until they had her pressed against the ground. They were the odd ones in the black armor-though now that she was close, Min could see it was actually a dark green.\n\nIdiot, she thought as they pressed her face against the floor. I should have let Mat pull me from the room first. She hadn't made a mistake like that-speaking of one of her viewings loud enough for others to hear-in years. What was wrong with her?\n\n\"Stop!\" Mat said. \"Let her up!\"\n\nMat might have been elevated to the Blood, but the guards obviously had no problem ignoring a direct order from him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"How does she know this, Knotai?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fortuona asked, stepping up to Mat. She sounded angry. Perhaps disappointed. \"What is happening?\"\n\n\"It's not what you assume, Tuon,\" Mat said.\n\nNo, don't-\n\n\"She sees things,\" Mat continued. \"It's nothing to get all angry about. It's just a trick of the Pattern, Tuon. Min sees visions around people, like little pictures. She didn't mean anything by what she said.\" He laughed. It was forced.\n\nThe room grew very still. It was so quiet, Min could once again hear the explosions in the distance.\n\n\"Doomseer,\" Fortuona whispered.\n\nThe guards suddenly let her free, backing away. Min groaned, sitting up. The guards had moved to protect the Empress, but one who had touched her pulled his gauntlets off and tossed them to the ground. He wiped his hand against his breastplate, as if trying to clean his skin of something.\n\nFortuona didn't seem afraid. She stepped up to Min, lips parting, almost in awe. The young Empress reached out and touched Min's face. \"What he says... it is true?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Min said, grudgingly.\n\n\"What do you see around me?\" Fortuona said. \"Speak it, Doomseer. I would know your omens, and judge you true or false!\"\n\nThat sounded dangerous. \"I see a bloody death lily, as I told Mat,\" Min said. \"And three ships, sailing. An insect in the darkness. Red lights, spread across afield that should be lush and ripe. A man with the teeth of a wolf.\" Fortuona drew in a sharp breath. She looked up at Mat. \"This is a great gift you have brought me, Knotai. Enough to pay your penance. Enough for credit beyond. Such a grand gift.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well..."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I. .\"\n\n\"I don't belong to anyone,\" Min said. \"Except maybe Rand, and him tome.\"\n\nFortuona ignored her, standing. \"This woman is my new Soe'feia. Doomseer, Truthspeaker! Holy woman, she who may not be touched. We have been blessed. Let it be known. The Crystal Throne has not had a true reader of the omens for over three centuries!\"\n\nMin sat, stunned, until Mat pulled her to her feet. \"Is that a good thing?\" she whispered to him.\n\n\"I'll be bloody in the face if I know,\" Mat said back. \"But you remember what I said about getting away from her? Well, you can probably forget about that now.\"\n\nCHAPTER\n\nToo Many Men\n\nLord Agelmar sent us directly,\" the Arafellin said to Lan. The man kept glancing toward the front line, where his companions fought for their lives.\n\nThunder shook the battlefield herein Shienar. The scent of burnt flesh was pungent in the air, alongside burnt hair. The Dreadlords didn't care if their attacks killed Trollocs, so long as they hit men as well.\n\n\"You're certain?\" Lan asked from horseback.\n\n\"Of course, Dai Shan,\" the man said. He wore his braids long, the bells painted red for some reason Lan did not understand. Something to do with the Arafellin Houses and their approach to the Last Battle. \"If I lie, let me be whipped a hundred times and left in the sun. I was surprised by the order, as I thought my men were to guard the flanks. Not only did the messenger have the proper passwords, but the man I sent to the command tent returned to confirm.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you, Captain,\" Lan said, waving for him to go back to his men. He glanced at Andere and Prince Kaisel, both of whom sat nearby, looking confused. They had listened to Lan interrogate the Kandori banner leader just before this, and that man had made similar assertions.\n\nLord Agelmar had sent them both. Two reserve forces, sent separately, neither knowing the other was going to the same place. A cool breeze blew across the river to Lan's right as he turned and rode toward the back lines.\n\nThe lands heat soon smothered that coolness. Those clouds above seemed so close, one could almost reach out and touch them.\n\n\"Lan?\" Andere asked, as he and Kaisel trotted their horses up beside Mandarb. \"What is this about?\"\n\n\"Too many men sent to plug the same hole in our lines,\" Lan said softly. \"It is an easy mistake to make,\" Prince Kaisel said. \"The worry that the Trollocs would punch through is areal one, now that the Dreadlords have joined the battle. The general sent two banners instead of one. Best to be safe. He probably did it intentionally.\"\n\nNo. It had been a mistake. A small one, but a mistake. The correct move would have been to pull the soldiers back and stabilize their battle lines. A single banner of cavalry then could ride in and cutoff the Trollocs coming through. Two waves could have been coordinated, but without giving warning to the different captains, the risk was that they would trip one another up-which was what had happened.\n\nLan shook his head and scanned the battlefield. Queen Ethenielle's banner was not faraway. He headed straight for it. The Queen waited with her honor guard, Lord Baldhere on one side, the Sword of Kirukan held with its hilt directly toward the Queen, though she had chosen not to ride into battle herself. Lan had half-wondered if she would follow Tenobia's lead on that point, but he shouldn't have. Ethenielle was a coolheaded woman. More importantly, she'd surrounded herself with coolheaded advisors."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lord Ramsin-her new husband-spoke with a group of his commanders."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A sly-looking fellow in the clothing of a scout brushed past Lan as he rode up, off to deliver orders. Lord Agelmar didn't usually give the squad-by-squad commands; his concern was the overall battle. He told his commanders what he wanted them to accomplish, but details of how they would carryout those objectives were left up to them.\n\nA stout, round-faced woman sat beside the Queen, speaking calmly to her. She noticed Lan, and nodded. Lady Serailla was the Queen's primary advisor. Lan and she had had... disagreements in the past. He respected her as much as he could someone he occasionally wanted to throttle and toss off a cliff.\n\n\"Dai Shan,\" the Queen said, nodding to him. Ramsin, standing a little ways off, gave a wave. Thunder rumbled. There was no rain, and Lan didn't expect any, despite the thick humidity. \"You are wounded? Let me send for one of the Healers.\"\n\n\"They are needed elsewhere,\" Lan said tersely as her guards saluted him. Each man wore a green tabard over his breastplate, the Red Horse embroidered on it, and each lance trailed red and green streamers. The helmets had steel face-bars, as opposed to Lan's own open-fronted, wide Malkieri helmet. \"Might I borrow Lord Baldhere, Your Majesty? I have a question for him.\"\n\n\"You need but make the request, Dai Shan,\" Queen Ethenielle said, though Lady Serailla narrowed her eyes at him. Obviously, she wondered what he needed of the Kandori queen's Swordbearer.\n\nBaldhere moved up to Lan, shifting the Sword of Kirukan to his other arm, to keep the hilt still pointed at his queen. It was a formality, but Baldhere was a formal man. Andere and Prince Kaisel joined the two of them, and Lan did not make them fallback."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Lord Agelmar committed a good fourth of our reserves to a small opening in our lines,\" Lan said softly enough that only Baldhere, Andere and Kaisel could hear."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm not certain all were needed.\"\n\n\"He just gave orders for our Saldaean light cavalry to pull away from the eastern flank,\" Baldhere said, \"and hit the Trollocs'left flank deep behind their lines, a surprise hit-and-run attack. He says he wants the Dreadlords\" attention spread out, and claims that making our defenses appear weaker than they are will tempt them into making a mistake.\"\n\n\"Your thoughts?\" Lan asked.\n\n\"It's a good move,\" Baldhere said, \"if you intend to force the battle to go long. Alone, it wouldn't worry me too much, not as long as the Saldaeans can get outwith their necks intact. I hadn't heard about the reserves. That leaves us enormously exposed on the east.\"\n\n\"Let's assume,\" Lan said softly, carefully, \"that one were in a position to sabotage the entire army. Let's assume that one wanted to do so, but do it with great subtlety, as to not be suspected. What would you do?\"\n\n\"Put our back to the river,\" Baldhere said slowly. \"Claim a position for the high ground, but leave us in danger of being surrounded. Commit us to a deadly fight, then expose an opening in our defenses and let us be split. Make each step seem rational.\"\n\n\"And your next step?\" Lan said.\n\nBaldhere considered, looking troubled. \" You'd need to pull the archers off the hills to the east. The land is rough over there, and so Shadowspawn could come around our scouts-particularly with everyone's eyes up toward the front lines-and draw close.\n\n\"Archers would see them and raise the alarm, perhaps be able to hold the Trollocs back long enough for the other reserves to arrive. But if the archers were moved, and the eastern reserves committed, and the enemy could swing around our eastern flank and attack our back lines... our whole army would be pinned back against the river. From there, it would be only a matter of time.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lord Mandragoran,\" Prince Kaisel said, nudging his horse forward. He looked about, as if ashamed. \"I cant believe Fm hearing this. Surely you don't suspect Lord Agelmar of betraying us!\"\n\n\"We can't afford to leave anyone above suspicion,\" Lan said grimly. \"A caution I should have listened to with a keener ear. Perhaps it is nothing. Perhaps.\"\n\n\"We're going to have enough difficulty getting out of this position as it is,\" Andere said, frowning. \"If we get pinned against the river...\"\n\n\"The plan originally was to use the reserve light cavalry to cover the retreat,\" Lan said. \"The infantry could retreat first, crossing the river on foot, then we could bring the heavy cavalry through gateways. The river is not swift, and the horses of the light cavalry could ford it, while Trollocs wouldn't dare. Not until they were forced. It was a good enough plan.\" Unless they got pressed too hard for the foot to disengage. Everything would fall apart then. And if they were surrounded, there was noway Lan would get his army out. They didn't have enough channelers to move the entire army. The only way out would be to leave the foot, abandoning half of his army to the slaughter. No, he'd die before he let that happen.\n\n\"Everything Lord Agelmar has been doing lately is a good enough plan,\" Baldhere said intensely. \"Good enough to avoid suspicion, but not good enough to win. Lan... something is wrong with him. I've known him for years. Please. I still believe that he's merely tired, but he is making mistakes. I'm right, I know I am.\"\n\nLan nodded. He left Lord Baldhere at his post and rode, with his guard, toward the back lines and the command tent."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The sense of dread that Lan felt was like a stone stuck in his throat. Those clouds seemed lower than before. They rumbled. The drums of the Dark One, come to claim the lives of men.\n\nBy the time Lan reached the command tent, he had a hundred good men at his back. Ashe drew near, Lan spotted a young Shienaran messenger-unarmored, topknot streaming behind him as he ran-making for his horse.\n\nAt Lan's wave, Andere dashed over and caught the man's reins, holding them tight. The messenger frowned. \"Dai Shan?\" he asked, saluting as Lan rode up.\n\n\"You are delivering orders for Lord Agelmar?\" Lan asked, dismounting. \"Yes, my Lord.\"\n\n\"What orders?\"\n\n\"The eastern Kandori archers,\" the messenger said. \"Their hill is too far from the main part of the battlefield, and Lord Agelmar feels they would serve better coming forward and launching volleys at those Dreadlords.\"\n\nThe archers probably thought that the Saldaean light cavalry were still back there; the Saldaeans thought the archers would stay; the reserves thought that both would hold after they'd been deployed.\n\nIt could still be a coincidence. Agelmar was being worked too hard, or had some greater plan that was beyond the eyes of other generals. Never accuse a man of a killing offense unless you were ready to kill him yourself, right then, with your own sword.\n\nBelay that order,\"Lan said, cold.\" Instead, send the Saldaean scouts out roving through those eastern hills. Tell them to watch for signs of a force of Shadowspawn sneaking into strike at us. Warn the archers to prepare to shoot, then return here and bring me word. Be quick about it, but tell nobody but the scouts and archers themselves that you are doing it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man looked confused, but he saluted. Agelmar was commanding general of this army, but Lan-as Dai Shan-had final word on all orders, and the only authority greater than his in this battle was that of Elayne.\n\nLan nodded to a pair of men from the High Guard. Washim and Geral were Malkieri whom he'd grown to respect a great deal during their weeks fighting together.\n\nLight, has it only been weeks? It feels like months...\n\nHe pushed the thought away as the two Malkieri followed the messenger to make certain he did as told. Lan would consider the ramifications of what was happening only after he knew all of the facts.\n\nOnly then.\n\nLoial did not know much about warfare. One did not need to know much to realize that Elayne's side was losing.\n\nHe and the other Ogier fought, facing a horde of thousands upon thousands of Trollocs-the second army that had come up to crush from the south, skirting the city. Crossbowmen from the Legion of the Dragon flanked the Ogier, launching volleys of quarrels, having withdrawn from the front as the Trollocs hit their lines. The enemy had dispersed the Legion's heavy cavalry, exhausted as they had been. Companies of pikemen held desperately against the tide, and the Wolf Guard clung to a disintegrating line on the other hill.\n\nHe'd heard fragments of what was happening on other parts of the battlefield. Elayne's armies had crushed the northern force of Trollocs, finishing them off, and as the Ogier fought, guarding the dragons that fired from the hill above them, more and more soldiers came to join the new front. They came bloodied, exhausted and weak.\n\nThis new force of Trollocs would crush them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Ogier sang a song of mourning. It was the dirge they sang for forests that had to be leveled or for great trees that died in a storm. It was a song of loss, of regret, of inevitability. He joined in the final refrain.\n\n'All rivers run dry,\n\nAll songs must end,\n\nEvery root will die,\n\nEvery branch must bend. .\n\nHe downed a snarling Trolloc, but another one sank its teeth into his leg. He bellowed, breaking off his song as he grabbed the Trolloc by the neck. He had never considered himself strong, not by Ogier standards, but he lifted the Trolloc and flung it into its fellows behind.\n\nMen-fragile men-were dead all around his feet. Their loss of life pained him. Each one had been given such a short time to live. Some, still alive, still fought. He knew they thought of themselves as bigger than they were, but hereon the battlefield-with Ogier and Trollocs-they seemed like children running around underfoot.\n\nNo. He would not see them that way. The men and women fought with bravery and passion. Not children, but heroes. Still, seeing them broken made his ears lie back. He started singing again, louder, and this time it was not the song of mourning. It was a song he had not sung before, a song of growing, but not one of the tree songs that were so familiar to him.\n\nHe bellowed it loud and angry, laying about him with his axe. On all sides, grass turned green, cords and ribbons of life sprouted. The hafts of the Trolloc polearms began to grow leaves; many of the beasts snarled and dropped the weapons in shock."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Loial fought on."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This song was not a song of victory. It was a song of life. Loial did not intend to die hereon this hillside.\n\nBy the Light, he had a book to finish before he went!\n\nMat stood in the Seanchan command building, surrounded by skeptical generals. Min had only just returned, after being taken away and dressed in Seanchan finery. Tuon had gone as well, to see to some empressly duty.\n\nLooking back at the maps, Mat felt like cursing again. Maps, maps and more maps. Pieces of paper. Most of them had been sketched by Tuon's clerks in the fading light of the previous evening. How could he know they were accurate? Mat had once seen a street artist drawing a pretty woman at night in Caemlyn, and the resulting picture could have been sold for gold as a dead-on representation of Cenn Buie in a dress.\n\nMore and more, he was thinking that battle maps were about as useful as a heavy coat in Tear. He needed to be able to seethe battle, not how someone else thought the battle looked. The map was too simple.\n\n\"I'm going out to look at the battlefield,\" Mat declared.\n\n\"You're what?\" Courtani asked. The Seanchan Banner-General was about as pretty as a bundle of sticks with armor bolted to it. Mat figured she must have eaten something very sour once and-upon finding the resulting grimace useful for frightening away birds-had decided to adopt it permanently.\n\nI m going to go look at the battlefield,\" Mat said again. He set aside his hat, then reached up over his head and grabbed the back of his rich, bulky Seanchan robes. He pulled the clothing, awkward shoulder pieces and all, over his head with a rustle of silk and lace, then tossed it aside."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That left him clad in only his neck scarf, his medallion and the strange breeches the Seanchan had given him, black and somewhat stiff. Min raised an eyebrow at his bare chest, which made him blush. But what did it matter? She was with Rand, so that made her practically his sister. There was Courtani, too, but Mat was not convinced that she was female. He was not convinced she was human, either.\n\nMat dug under the table fora moment, and pulled out a bundle he had stashed there earlier, then straightened up. Min folded her arms. Her new clothing looked very nice on her, a dress nearly as rich as the ones worn by Tuon. Min's was a dark green shiny silk with black embroidery and wide, open sleeves that were at least long enough to stick your head into. They had done up her hair, too, sticking bits of metal into it, silver with inset firedrops. There were hundreds of them. If this whole Doomseer title did notwork out for her, perhaps she could find work as a chandelier.\n\nShe was quite fetching in the outfit, actually. Odd. Mat had always considered Min on the boyish side, but now he found her appealing. Not that he looked.\n\nThe Seanchan in the room seemed stunned that Mat had suddenly stripped to the waist. He did not see why. They had servants that wore much less. Light, but they did.\n\n\"I'm tempted to do the same as you,\" Min muttered, grabbing the front of her dress.\n\nMat froze, then sputtered. He must have swallowed a fly or something. \"Burn me,\" he said, throwing on the shirt he dugout of the bundle. Til give you a hundred Tar Valon marks if you do it, just so I can tell the story.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That earned him a glare, though he did not know why. She was the one talking about striding about like a bloody Aiel Maiden on her way to the sweat tent.\n\nMin did not do it, and he was almost sad. Almost. He had to be careful around Min. He was certain that a smile in the wrong place would earn him a knifing not only from her, but from Tuon, and Mat was much happier with only one knife stuck in him at a time.\n\nThe foxhead medallion rested comfortably against his skin-thank the Light, Tuon had understood that he did need it-as he tossed on his coat, also retrieved from the bundle.\n\n\"How did you retain those?\" Captain-General Galgan asked. \"I was under the impression that your clothing had been burned, Raven Prince.\"\n\nGalgan looked very silly with that one strip of white hair on his head, but Mat did not mention this. It was the Seanchan way. Folk could be funny, but he didn't doubt Galgan could handle himself in a battle, however he looked.\n\n\"These?\" Mat said, gesturing to his coat and shirt. \"I really have no idea. They were just down there. I'm completely baffled.\" He had been very pleased to learn that Seanchan guards-for all their stoic expressions and too-straight backs-responded to bribes like other people.\n\nAll but those Deathwatch Guards. Mat had learned not to try it with them; the glare they'd given him made him think that if he tried it again, he'd end up with his face in the mud. Perhaps it would be better not to even talk to a Deathwatch Guard again, as it was quite obvious that each and everyone one of them had traded his sense of humor for an oversized chin."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ina pinch, though, he knew exactly who he would trust with Tuon's safety.\n\nMat strode out, grabbing his ashandarei from against the wall as he passed. Courtani and Min followed him out. It was too bad Tylee was so good at what she did. Mat would rather have kept her behind for company and sent the scarecrow instead. Maybe he should have. Some of the Trollocs might have mistaken her for one of them.\n\nHe had to wait as a groom ran for Pips, unfortunately, and that gave someone time to alert Tuon. He saw her approaching. Well, she had said she would return shortly anyway, so he had not really expected to avoid a confrontation.\n\nMin shuffled, cursing softly at her skirts.\n\n\"Still trying to decide if you should run?\" Mat asked Min under his breath as Tuon approached.\n\n\"Yes,\" Min said sourly.\n\n\"The beds are nice here, you know. And they know how to treat a fellow, so long as they don't end up beheading him. I still haven't figured out what keeps that from happening.\"\n\n\"Wonderful.\"\n\nMat turned to her. \"You realize that if Rand were here, he'd probably ask you to stay.\"\n\nMin glared at him.\n\n\"It's just the truth, Min. The bloody truth. I was there when Rand brought them to his side, and I can tell you, he was worried. The Seanchan and Aes Sedai don't get along too well, if you hadn't noticed.\"\n\n\"That's about as obvious as your pride is, Mat.\"\n\n\"Ouch. Here I'm trying to help. I tell you, Min. How much relief do you think it would bring Rand if he knew that someone he trusted had Tuon's ear, someone who could nudge her to play nicely with the Aes Sedai by giving the right omens'at the right time? Of course, you could be back at the camp hauling water and running messages. I'm sure that would be just as helpful as you would be keeping an eye on a foreign monarch and encouraging her to trust and respect the Dragon Reborn, building abridge of friendship between her and the rest of the nations.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Min stood silently fora moment. \"I hate you, bloody Mat Cauthon.\"\n\n\"That's the spirit,\" Mat said, raising a hand to greet Tuon. \"Now, let's see which of my limbs she cuts off for throwing away her fancy clothing.\" Too bad about that. Nice embroidery on that robe. A man needed a little embroidery to keep him refined. Still, he was not about to wear that heap of cloth into battle. He would have better luck trying to fight while carrying Pips on his back.\n\nThe others did their usual bowing and scraping when Tuon walked up, though she had been gone only a few minutes. Mat gave her a nod. She took in his clothing with along glance, up and down. Why was everyone so sour on a good shirt and jacket? He had not chosen the ratty one he had worn to visit Elayne. He had burned that.\n\n\"Greatest One,\" Courtani said. She was of the High Blood, and could address Tuon directly. \"May you always draw breath. The Raven Prince has determined that he himself must visit the battlefield, as he has judged our messengers and generals to be lacking skill.\"\n\nMat hooked his thumbs into his belt, regarding Tuon, as a groom finally arrived with Pips. About bloody time. Had the boy stopped for lunch along the way, perhaps taken in a gleeman performance or two?\n\n\"Well, why are we waiting?\" Tuon asked. \"If the Prince of the Ravens wishes to seethe battlefield, I would think that loyal servants of the Empire would have tripped over themselves in their haste to carry him there.\"\n\nCourtani looked as if she had been slapped. Mat grinned at Tuon, and she favored him with a smile. Light, but he liked those smiles."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So, you're coming along, then?\" he asked Tuon.\n\n\"Of course. You see a reason why I should not?\"\n\n\"Not a one,\" Mat said, groaning inside. \"Not a single bloody one.\"\n\nThe Loss of a Hill\n\nFocus attention on the Fades!\" Egwene said, releasing a burst of Air toward the Trollocs climbing up the hillside. The Trollocs had made a gaping hole in the ranks of pikemen defending the hill and were pouring through. Now accustomed to assaulting channelers, they squatted and braced themselves. That gave Egwene a good view of the fist and the Myrddraal hiding at the very center. It wore a brown coat over its usual clothing and held a Trolloc catchpole.\n\nCHAPTER\n\nNo wonder I had trouble spotting him, Egwene thought, destroying the creature with a weave of Fire. The Halfman writhed, shaking and screeching in the fire, its eyeless face turned toward the heavens. The fist of Trollocs dropped as well.\n\nEgwene smiled in satisfaction, but her pleasure was short lived. Her archers were getting low on arrows, the pike ranks were tattered and some of the Aes Sedai were clearly fatigued. Another wave of Trollocs replaced those that Egwene had dropped. Will we be able to stand another day of this? she thought.\n\nA banner of lancers suddenly broke from the left flank of Brynes army fighting at the river. They flew the Flame of Tar Valon-that would be the unit of heavy cavalry that Bryne was proud of. He had cobbled them together under Captain Joni Shagrin out of a mix of seasoned veterans from the cavalries of other countries and those soldiers from the Tower Guard who wanted to join this elite fighting force."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The lancers skirted the Sharans opposite them and rode furiously toward Egwene's hills, directly at the rear of the Trolloc army that was assaulting her position. Right behind them, a second cavalry unit followed in the dust of the first, this one displaying the dark green banner of Illian. It looked like the general was finally going to send her some relief.\n\nBut... Wait. Egwene frowned. From her vantage, she could see that the main army's left flank was completely unprotected now. What is he doing? Some... some sort of trap for the Sharans?\n\nIf there had been a trap planned, the jaws did not snap shut. Instead, a Sharan cavalry unit charged into Bryne's exposed left flank and began to inflict heavy casualties on the foot soldiers defending that position at the river. And then Egwene saw another movement on the field below that really horrified her-an even larger Sharan cavalry banner had broken off the enemy's right flank and was bearing down on the lancer unit that had come to help Egwene.\n\n\"Gawyn, get word to those lancers-it's a trap!\"\n\nBut there was no time to do anything. Within moments, the Sharan cavalry had begun slaying the White Tower lancers from behind. At the same time, the back ranks of Trollocs had turned around to face the lancer charge. Egwene could see that these Trollocs all carried long polearms that ripped through the flesh of man and horse. The front ranks of lancers went down in a bloody heap, and the Trollocs waded between the bodies to pull down and thrust their weapons through the cavalrymen behind.\n\nEgwene shouted, drawing what Power she could and trying to destroy that Trolloc force-and the other women joined her. It was a massacre on both sides. There were just too many Trollocs, and the lancers were unprotected. In minutes, it was over. Only a few cavalrymen had managed to survive, and Egwene saw them riding at full bore toward the river."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It shook her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At times, the armies seemed to move at the turgid pace of enormous ships at dock-and then, in an instant, everything would burst and entire banners would have perished.\n\nShe looked away from the corpses below. The Aes Sedai positions on the hilltops had been compromised. As the Trollocs returned their attention toward her force, Egwene gave orders for gateways. She had the pikemen withdraw uphill through the gateways as her archers continued to shoot projectiles into the Trollocs below. Then, Egwene and the remaining Aes Sedai rained destruction down on the Trollocs long enough to get the archers through the gateways.\n\nBefore disappearing through the last gateway on her hill, Egwene gave a final look at the battlefield. What had just happened? She shook her head as Gawyn stepped up to her side, faithful as always. He hadn't had an opportunity to draw his sword this battle. Neither had Leilwin; the two seemed to behaving a little silent competition as to who could act as the better guard, remaining right by Egwene's side. She'd have found it annoying, but it was better than Gawyn's sullen regret in previous battle engagements.\n\nHe was looking pale, though. As if at the start of a sickness. Had he been getting enough sleep?\n\n\"I want to go to the camp and find General Bryne,\" Egwene said. \"I want to know why this was allowed to happen. And then I will go to our troops defending the ford, and avenge our people who just lost their lives here.\"\n\nThey both gave her frowns.\n\n\"Egwene...\" Gawyn said.\n\n\"I have strength yet,\" Egwene said. \"I have been using the sa'angreal to keep from having to work too hard. The men fighting in that quarter need to see me, and I must do good where I can. I will take as many guards as you wish me to take.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gawyn hesitated, glanced at Leilwin, then finally nodded.\n\nLan dismounted and handed the reins to Andere, then continued past the guards-who seemed shocked to see him and his numerous guards, many of them bloodied-toward the command tent. The tent was little more than an awning now, open on all sides, with soldiers moving in and out like ants in a hill. The air was hot herein Shienar today. He had not received reports recently from the other battlefronts, but had heard his would not be the only desperate stand today. Elayne fought at Cairhien; the Amyrlin on the border of Arafel.\n\nLight send that they were having a better time of it than Lan. Inside the tent, Agelmar stood with maps on the ground all around him, pointing at them with a thin pole and moving bits of colored stone around as he gave orders. Runners would come and give updates on the progress of battle. The best battle plans lasted only until the first sword was drawn, but a good general could work battles like a potter working clay, taking the ebbs and flows of soldiers and molding them.\n\n\"Lord Mandragoran?\" Agelmar asked, looking up. \"Light, man! You look like the Blight itself. Have you seen the Aes Sedai for Healing?\"\n\n\"I am well,\" Lan said. \"How goes the battle?\"\n\n\"I'm encouraged,\" Agelmar said. \"If we can find someway to stall those Dreadlords for an hour or two, I think we actually have a fair shot of turning the Trollocs back.\"\n\n\"Surely not,\" Lan said. \"There are so many.\"\n\n\"It's not about numbers,\" Agelmar said, waving Lan over, pointing at a map. \" Lan, here is a thing that few men understand. Armies can and often do break when they have superior numbers, superior battlefield advantage, and a good chance of winning."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"When you spend time commanding, you start to think of an army as a single entity. A massive beast with thousands of limbs. That's a mistake. An army is made up of men-or, in this case, Trollocs-each one on the field, each one terrified. Being a soldier is about keeping your terror in check. The beast inside just wants to escape.\"\n\nLan crouched down, inspecting the battle maps. The situation was much as he d seen it, only Agelmar still had the Saldaean light cavalry watching the eastern flank on the map. A mistake? Lan had confirmed for himself that they were no longer there. Shouldn't runners have brought Agelmar word that the map was wrong? Or was he somehow distracting them from noticing?\n\n\"I'll show you something today, Lan,\" Agelmar said softly. \"I'll show you what the smallest man on the practice yard must learn if he is to survive. You can make the larger enemy break if you convince him that he is going to die. Hit him hard enough, and he will run, and won't return to let you hit again-even if you're secretly too weak to hit again.\"\n\n\"That's your plan, then?\" Lan asked. \"Today?\"\n\n\"The Trollocs will break if we show them a display of force that frightens them,\" Agelmar said. \"I know it can work. I'm hoping that we can bring down the leader of those Dreadlords. If the Trollocs assume they're losing, they will run. They are cowardly beasts.\"\n\nListening to Agelmar made it seem plausible. Perhaps Lan just wasn't seeing the entire picture. Perhaps the great captain's genius was beyond what others could fathom. Had he done right in countermanding the order to move the archers?"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The messenger Lan had sent earlier came galloping back to the command center. One of Lan's High Guard was there, too, holding his own arm, a black-fletched arrow stuck in it. \"An enormous force of Shadowspawn!\" the messenger said. \"Coming in from the east! Dai Shan, you were right!\"\n\nThey knew to come in that way, Lan thought. They couldn't have just noticed that we'd exposed ourselves, not with those hills blocking their view. It's come too quickly. The Shadow must have been told, or must have known what to expect. He looked at Agelmar.\n\n\"Impossible!\" Agelmar said. \"What's this, now? Why didn't the scouts see it?\"\n\n\"Lord Agelmar,\" one of his commanders said. \"You sent the scouts in the east back to look at the river, remember? They were to inspect the crossing for us. You said the archers would. .\" The commander paled. \"The archers!\"\n\n\"The archers are still in their positions,\" Lan said, rising. \"I want the front lines to begin withdrawing. Pull the Saldaeans out of the fighting, ready to strike to help the foot soldiers disengage. Pull the Asha'man back. We'll need gateways.\"\n\nLord Mandragoran,\"Agelmar said.\" This new development can be used. If we pull apart and then smash them between us, we can-\"\n\n\"You are relieved of duty, Lord Agelmar,\" Lan said, not looking at the man. \"And, unfortunately, I must request that you remain under supervision until I can sort through what has happened.\"\n\nThe command tent grew silent, every aide, messenger and officer turning toward Lan.\n\nNow, Lan,\"Agelmar said.\" That sounded like you are having me arrested.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Aid the author, keep the plot going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 4"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The messenger Lan had sent earlier came galloping back to the command center. One of Lan's High Guard was there, too, holding his own arm, a black-fletched arrow stuck in it. \"An enormous force of Shadowspawn!\" the messenger said. \"Coming in from the east! Dai Shan, you were right!\"\n\nThey knew to come in that way, Lan thought. They couldn't have just noticed that we'd exposed ourselves, not with those hills blocking their view. It's come too quickly. The Shadow must have been told, or must have known what to expect. He looked at Agelmar.\n\n\"Impossible!\" Agelmar said. \"What's this, now? Why didn't the scouts see it?\"\n\n\"Lord Agelmar,\" one of his commanders said. \"You sent the scouts in the east back to look at the river, remember? They were to inspect the crossing for us. You said the archers would. .\" The commander paled. \"The archers!\"\n\n\"The archers are still in their positions,\" Lan said, rising. \"I want the front lines to begin withdrawing. Pull the Saldaeans out of the fighting, ready to strike to help the foot soldiers disengage. Pull the Asha'man back. We'll need gateways.\"\n\nLord Mandragoran,\"Agelmar said.\" This new development can be used. If we pull apart and then smash them between us, we can-\"\n\n\"You are relieved of duty, Lord Agelmar,\" Lan said, not looking at the man. \"And, unfortunately, I must request that you remain under supervision until I can sort through what has happened.\"\n\nThe command tent grew silent, every aide, messenger and officer turning toward Lan.\n\nNow, Lan,\"Agelmar said.\" That sounded like you are having me arrested.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am,\" Lan said, motioning to the High Guard. They moved into the tent, taking positions to keep anyone from escaping. Some of Agelmar's men did reach for swords, but most looked confused, and only rested their hands on the hilts.\n\n\"This is an outrage!\" Agelmar said. \"Don't be a fool. This isn't the time-\"\n\n\"What would you have me do, Agelmar?\" Lan barked. \"Let you run this army into the ground? Let the Shadow take us? Why are you doing this? Why?\"\n\n\"You're overreacting, Lan,\" Agelmar said, keeping his calm with obvious difficulty, his eyes burning. \"What's going through your head? Light!\" \"Why did you pull the archers off of the eastern hills?\"\n\n\"Because I needed them elsewhere!\"\n\n\"And does that make sense?\" Lan demanded. \"Didn't you tell me that guarding that flank was vital?\"\n\n\"I. .\n\n\"You drew away the scouts from that position too. Why?\"\n\n\"They... It...\" Agelmar raised a hand to his head, looking dazed. He looked down at the battle map, and his eyes widened.\n\n\"What's wrong with you, Agelmar?\" Lan said.\n\n\"I don't know,\" the man said. He blinked, staring at the maps at his feet. His face adopted a look of horror, eyes wide, lips parting. \"Oh, Light! What have I done?\"\n\n\"Pass my orders!\" Lan said urgently to his high guard. \"Bring Lord Baldhere to the command tent. Queen Ethenielle and King Easar as well.\"\n\n\"Lan, you have to bring the...\" Agelmar stopped. \"Light! I cant say it. I start thinking about what to do, and the wrong thoughts come into my head! Im still trying to sabotage us. I've doomed us.\" His eyes wide, he reached for his shortsword, sliding the blade free."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lan caught the sword around the guard and the blade collar, stopping it just before Agelmar could ram it into his stomach and end his life."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Blood seeped between Lan's fingers from where one brushed the sharp edge of the blade, just below the collar.\n\n\"Let me die with honor,\" Agelmar said. \"I... I've destroyed us all. I've lost us this war, Lan.\"\n\n\"Not the war, just the battle,\" Lan said. \"Something is wrong with you. A sickness, a fatigue or something of the Shadow. I suspect we'll find someone has been tampering with your mind.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"You area soldier!\" Lan bellowed. \"Act like one!\"\n\nAgelmar froze. He met Lan's eyes, then nodded once. Lan removed his fingers from the blade and Agelmar thrust it back in its sheath. The great captain sat down cross-legged in the traditional Shienaran meditation posture, eyes closed.\n\nLan strode away, calling orders. Prince Kaisel ran up to him, obviously afraid. \"What's happening, Lord Mandragoran?\"\n\n\"Compulsion, likely,\" Lan said. \"We've been like rabbits in a snare, with the line being drawn slowly-but snugly-around our necks. Someone please tell me the Asha'man still have enough strength for gateways! And bring me news of the eastern flank! Those archers will need support. Commit the rest of the reserves to protecting them.\"\n\nPrince Kaisel backed away as the orders continued, his eyes wide, his hand on his sword. He looked at Lord Agelmar, face pale. \"We've really lost?\" he asked Lan once the orders were out, messengers racing to deliver them.\n\n\"Yes,\" Lan said. \"We have.\"\n\n\"Lan!\" Agelmar said suddenly, opening his eyes.\n\nLan turned to him."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Queen Tenobia,\" Agelmar said. \"I've sent her into danger without understanding what I'd done. Whoever put these plans into my head wanted her dead!\"\n\nLan swore softly, bolting out of camp and up the side of the nearest hill. The scouts there made room for him as he reached the top, pulling his looking glass from his belt. He didn't need it. He found the Queens flag while scanning the battlefield.\n\nShe was surrounded. Whatever support she had thought she would receive had not been sent. Lan opened his mouth to call orders, but they died on his lips as the Trollocs swarmed over the small flag of white and silver where she'd been fighting. It fell, and in seconds, he couldn't pick out a living soldier in that section of the battlefield.\n\nColdness. He could do nothing for Tenobia. It was no longer about saving individuals.\n\nHe would be lucky to escape this day with any semblance of an army at all.\n\nMat rode with Tuon south toward the battlefield, along the banks of the river that was the western border of Arafel.\n\nOf course, where Tuon went, so did Selucia. And now Min; Tuon wanted to keep her new Doomseer at her side at all times. Tuon kept asking for viewings, and Min kept reluctantly explaining what she saw.\n\nMat had tried to make her say she saw a hat floating around Mat's head. That would persuade Tuon to stop trying to get rid of his, would it not? It would have been better than Min explaining about the eye on a scale, and the dagger, and all of the other bloody things she had seen about Mat.\n\nWhere Tuon went, a hundred of the Deathwatch Guards also went. And Galgan and Courtani, who felt chastised for not acting quickly enough to help Mat. Furyk Karede was along, too, leading the Deathwatch Guard. Being around Karede was about as pleasant as finding another man's hand in your purse, but he was a good soldier, and Mat respected him. He would very much like to put Karede and Lan in a staring contest together. They could beat it for years."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I need a better view,\" Mat said, scanning the battlefield when they came within range. \"There.\"\n\nHe turned Pips and rode toward arise close enough to where the opposing forces traded destruction at the river's edge. Tuon followed him without a word. When they all reached the rise, he noticed Selucia staring daggers at him.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" Mat asked. \"I'd have assumed you would be happy to have me back. It gives you someone else to scowl at.\"\n\n\"The Empress will follow where you go,\" she said.\n\n\"So she will,\" Mat said. \"As I'll follow where she goes, I suppose. I hope that doesn't lead us in too many circles.\" He inspected the combat.\n\nThe river was not terribly wide-maybe fifty spans across but it was swift-moving and deep on either side of the ford. The water made a nice barrier, and not just for Trollocs. The ford, though, made for an easy crossing the water there was knee-deep and wide enough for at least twenty files of\n\nriders to cross at the same time.\n\nIn the distant middle of the Sharan army, a man sat upon a brilliant white horse. Mat could barely make him outwith his glass; the man's glistening armor didn't seem like any Mat had seen, though the distance made it difficult to tell specifics. \"I assume that's our Forsaken?\" he asked, gesturing with the ashandarei.\n\n\"He seems to be yelling for the Dragon Reborn,\" Galgan said. Deman-dred's voice boomed across the battlefield right then, enhanced by the One Power. He was demanding that the Dragon come and face him in a duel.\n\nMat inspected the fellow through the glass. Demandred, eh? Has he gone a bit dotty, or what?\" Well, Mat knew which part of the battle to bloody stay away from. He had not signed up to fight Forsaken. In fact, so far as he remembered, he had not signed up at all. He had been bloody press-ganged every step of the way. Usually by force, and always by one fool woman or another."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Egwene could deal with Demandred, or maybe the Asha'man could."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rand said the Asha'man were not going crazy anymore, but that was a shallow promise. Any man who wanted to wield the One Power was already crazy, so far as Mat considered it. Adding more crazy to them would be like\n\npouring tea into an already full cup.\n\nAt least Tuon's damane had those Sharan channelers occupied. Their firelight ripped up the ground on both riverbanks. It was impossible to get a clear picture of what was going on, though. There was just too much confusion.\n\nMat pointed his looking glass southward along the river once more, and frowned. There was a military camp setup just a few hundred paces opposite the ford, but it wasn't the haphazard arrangement of tents that caught his attention. At the eastern edge of the camp was a large body of troops and their horses, just standing there. He picked out a figure pacing in front of the assembly, who appeared to be in afoul mood. Mat might have been missing an eye, but it was no difficult task to recognize Tylee.\n\nMat lowered the looking glass. He rubbed his chin, adjusted his hat and set his ashandarei on his shoulder. \" Give me five minutes on my own, he said, then kicked Pips into a gallop down the hill, hoping that Tuon would let him go alone. For once, she did, though as he reached the base of the\n\nrise, he could imagine her up there watching him with those curious eyes of hers. She seemed to find everything he did to be interesting.\n\nMat galloped alongside the river toward Tylee's location. Explosions rang out, painful to the ears, announcing that he had neared the heart of the battle.\n\nMat nudged Pips to the left and rode directly toward the pacing general. \"Tylee, you Light-blinded fool! Why are you sitting around here instead of making yourself useful?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Highness,\"Tylee said, falling to her knees,\" we were ordered to stay here until we were called.\"\n\n\"Who told you to do that? And getup.\"\n\n\"General Bryne, Highness,\" she said, rising. He could sense the annoyance in her tone, but she kept her face under control. \"He said that we were only a reserve force, and that under no circumstances were we to move from here until he gave the order. He said many lives depended on it. But look, you can see for yourself,\" she said, gesturing toward the river, \"the battle is not going well.\"\n\nMat had been too caught up with Tylee to seethe state of affairs across the water, but now he gave the field a wide sweep with his eye.\n\nWhile the damane still seemed to beholding their own against the Sharan channelers, the regular troops were clearly in a bind. The defenses on Brynes left flank downriver had completely broken down, and the soldiers there were being mobbed by Sharans.\n\nWhere was the cavalry? It was supposed to be protecting the flanks. And, as Mat had predicted, Sharan archers had moved out into the field and were sending arrows into Bryne's cavalry on the right flank. It was all like a boil being squeezed, and Brynes troops were the boil about to pop.\n\nThis doesn't make any bloody sense,\"Mat said.\" He's spinning this more and more into a disaster. Where is the general now, Tylee?\"\n\n\"I cannot say, Highness, I have people out looking for him, but so far there is no word. But I have reports that our side has had a major setback just south of here. Two large cavalry units of General Bryne's have been wiped out by the Sharans just below the hills on the border. It is said they had been sent thereto relieve the marattidamane on the hilltops.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Blood and bloody ashes.\" Mat considered this information. \" All right, Tylee, we can't wait around any longer. Here's what we are going to do. Have Banner-General Makoti take the Second Banner right up the middle. He has to work his way around our troops fighting there and push back those Sharans. You take the Third Banner and swing around to the right flank;\n\ntakeout those archers and any other goat-kissers that cross your path. I'm going to take the First Banner over to the left flank and put a patch on those defenses. Get going, Tylee!\"\n\n\"Yes, Highness. But surely you aren't going to get so close to the battle?\" \"Yes I am. Now get going, Tylee!\"\n\n\"Please, if I might make a humble suggestion, Highness? You are unprotected; let meat least give you some proper armor.\"\n\nMat thought fora moment, then agreed that her suggestion was a prudent one. A person could get hurt out there, what with arrows flying and blades swinging. Tylee called over one of her senior officers who seemed to be about the same size as Mat. She had the man remove his armor, which was extremely colorful, overlapping plates lacquered green, gold and red, outlined with silver. The officer looked bemused when Mat handed him his coat in trade, saying that he expected it to be returned at the end of the day in the same condition. Mat put on the armor, which covered his chest, the back of his arms and the front of his thighs, and it felt comfortable enough. When the officer held out his helmet, though, Mat ignored him, merely adjusting his wide-brimmed hat as he turned to Tylee.\n\n\"Highness, one more thing, the marattidaynane...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll deal with those channelers personally,\" Mat said.\n\nShe gawked at him as if he were insane. Bloody ashes, he probably was. \"Highness!\" Tylee said. \"The Empress. .\" She stopped when she saw Mat's expression. \"Let us at least send for some damane to protect you.\"\n\n\"I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much. Those bloody women would just get in my way.\" He grinned. \"Are you ready, Tylee? I would really like this over with before it's time for my bedtime mug of ale.\" In response, Tylee turned and yelled, \"Mount up!\" Light, she had a strong set of lungs! With that, thousands of bottoms hit their saddles, producing a slapping sound that reverberated across the legion, and each soldier sat at attention, eyes straight ahead. He'd give the Seanchan one thing-they trained bloody good soldiers.\n\nTylee barked out a series of orders, turned back to Mat and said, \"On your command, Highness.\"\n\nMat cried out, \"Los cabadrin/\" Words most of those assembled did not understand, and yet instinctively knew to mean'Horsemen forward!\"\n\nAs Mat spurred Pips into the waters of the ford, the ashandarei raised above his head, he heard the ground rumble as the First Banner closed ranks around him. The blaring Seanchan horns behind were giving the call to charge, each horn pitched slightly differently from the next, producing a grating, dissonant sound meant to be heard at great distances. Ahead, soldiers\n\nof the White Tower glanced over their shoulders at the noise, and in the seconds it took Mat and the Seanchan to cross the passage, soldiers were flinging themselves out of the way to make room for the riders."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Just a short veer to the left and the Seanchan were suddenly in the thick of Sharan cavalry, which had been grinding through Egwene's foot soldiers. The speed of their approach enabled the Seanchan vanguard to smash hard into the Sharans, their well-trained steeds rearing up just before crashing down on the foe with their forelegs. Sharans and their mounts fell, many crushed as the Seanchan cavalry continued their relentless forward motion.\n\nThe Sharans appeared to know what they were about, but these were heavy cavalry, weighted down with burdensome armor and equipped with long lances; perfect for eliminating foot soldiers with their backs up against a wall, but disadvantaged against a highly mobile light cavalry in such tight quarters.\n\nThe First Banner were a crack unit that used a wide variety of weaponry, and they were trained to work in teams. Spears thrown by lead riders with deadly accuracy plunged into the visors of the Sharans, a surprising number of which went through the slits and into faces. Pushing through behind were riders wielding two-handed swords with curved blades, slicing their weapons across the vulnerable space that separated helmets from the top of body armor, or at other times slashing the vulnerable chests of armor-clad Sharan mounts, bringing their riders to the ground. Other Seanchan used hooked polearms to pull Sharans out of the saddle while their partners swung spiked maces at the enemy, denting their armor so much that movement was severely restricted. And when the Sharans were on the ground, trying with difficulty to rise, the spikers would descend on them, lightly armed Seanchan whose job it was to pull up visors of the fallen and thrust a narrow dagger into exposed eyes. The lances of the Sharans were useless under these conditions-in fact, they were a hindrance, and many Sharans died before they could drop their lances and draw swords."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat ordered one of his cavalry squadrons to ride along the water's edge until they reached the far left edge of battle, and then to swing around the Sharan cavalry. No longer overwhelmed by Sharan lances, the White Tower infantry on the left-center were able to use their pikes and halberds again, and with the addition of the efforts of the Seanchan Second and Third Banners, defenses were slowly reestablished at the ford. It was dirty, slippery work, as the ground within several hundred paces of the river got beaten down and became an expanse of churned-up mud. But the forces of Light stood their ground.\n\nMat found himself washed into the thick of the fray, and his ashandarei\n\nnever stopped spinning. He quickly found, however, that his weapon was not very useful; a few of his swings met with vulnerable flesh, but most of the time his blade glanced off the armor of his opponents, and he was forced to duck and twist in the saddle repeatedly to avoid being struck by a Sharan blade.\n\nMat slowly worked his way forward through the brawl, and had nearly reached the back lines of Sharan cavalry when he realized that three of his companions were no longer in their saddles. Odd, they had just been there a minute ago. Two others stiffened up, scanning from side to side, and suddenly they both went up inflames, screaming in agony and throwing themselves to the ground before going limp. Mat looked to his right just in time to see a Seanchan flung back a hundred feet in the air by an unseen force.\n\nWhen he turned back, his eye met the gaze of a most beautiful woman. She was oddly clad in a black silk dress that stood out from her body, adorned with white ribbons. She was a dark-skinned beauty, like Tuon, but there was nothing delicate about her bold, high cheekbones and wide sensuous mouth, lips that seemed to pout. Until they curved up into a smile, a smile that was not meant to comfort him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As she stared at him, his medallion grew cold. Mat breathed out.\n\nLuck seemed to be with him so far, but he did not want to press it too far, anymore than you wanted to press your best racehorse. He would still have a healthy need of that luck in the days to come.\n\nMat dismounted and walked toward her as the woman gasped, trying another weave, her eyes wide with amazement. Mat flipped the ashandarei around and spun it, sweeping her feet from beneath her. He brought the haft just below the blade back down to his right, cracking heron the back of the head as she fell.\n\nShe landed facedown in the mud. Mat did not have time to pull her out, as he was suddenly confronted by dozens of Sharans. Ten of Mats soldiers filled out around him, and he pressed forward. These Sharans only had swords. Mat fended them off with spinning blade and pole, and he and the Seanchan fought furiously.\n\nThe fight became a blur of sweeping weapons, his ashandarei spraying clods of mud into the air. Two of Mat's men grabbed the facedown woman before she could suffocate in the mire.\n\nMat pushed forward.\n\nMen yelled, calling for reinforcements.\n\nSteps taken cautiously, but inevitably forward.\n\nThe ground was turning red.\n\nSharan soldiers replaced the ones who were slain, and the bodies of the fallen sank deeper in the mud. Soldiers often were a grim folk, but each of these Sharans seemed personally intent on killing him-until the Sharans stopped coming. Mat looked around him; there were only four Seanchan remaining at his side.\n\nDespite the chaos of the fight, Mat felt he saw more clearly than he had before. And the lull infighting gave him a chance to act like a commander again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bind that womans hands behind her back,\"Mat said, panting, to the men around him, and tie a cloth around her eyes so that she cant see anything.\" He wiped the sweat from his brow-Light, there was enough of it fora second river. We are going to push our way back to the ford with our prisoner. Ill see if I can find a few more of those bloody damane to throw into this battle. The Sharans were wrong to leave only one of their channelers by herself on the battlefield. But let's get out of here before anymore of them show up.\"\n\nMat shook his hand; he had cracked one of his nails, splitting the fine lacquer. He turned to a Seanchan officer, one of those who had fought alongside him. The man wore an expression of awe, as if he were staring at the Dragon bloody Reborn himself. Mat looked down at the ground, not liking the mans expression, but he supposed it wasn't any worse than looking at the blood-soaked muck littered with Sharan corpses. How many had Mat killed?\n\nHighness...\"the officer said.\" Great Lord, no man in the Empire's service would ever dare question the Empress, may she live forever. But if a man had wondered about some of her choices, he would do so no longer. Prince of the Ravens!\" He raised his sword, prompting a cheer from those behind.\n\n\"Get yourselves some bloody polearms,\" Mat said. \"Those swords are next to useless for foot soldiers in this battle.\" He chewed a bit off the offending fingernail, then spat it to the side. \"You fellows did well. Anyone see my horse?\"\n\nPips was nearby and so, taking his mount's reins, he headed back toward the ford. He even managed to stay out of more skirmishes, for the most part. That Seanchan captain reminded him a little too much of Talmanes, and Mat had enough people following him about. I wonder if he plays dice, Mat thought idly, stepping into the water. His boots were good, but all boots eventually leaked, and his feet squished inside his stockings as he walked across the ford with Pips. There was a commotion far to his right on the"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "bank, what appeared to be a gathering of Aes Sedai channeling toward the battlefield. But Mat had no intention of sticking his nose into their business. He had larger issues on his mind.\n\nAhead Mat saw a man standing by a tree, dressed in voluminous pants and a familiar-looking coat. He approached the man and, after a brief conversation, exchanged garb with him. Feeling good about being back in his Two Rivers coat, Mat heaved himself into the saddle, legs still dripping water, and rode back toward where he had left Tuon. His men had brought that Sharan channeler-by his order, they'd gagged her and blindfolded her. Light, what would he do with her? She'd probably end up as a damane.\n\nHe left his soldiers and passed the guards, now setup at the base of the little rise, with barely a nod. The battlefield spread out in his mind, no longer little drawings on paper. He could seethe field, hear the men fighting, smell the rancid breath of the enemy. It was real to him now.\n\n\"The Empress,\" Selucia said as he reached the top of the rise, \"would like to know-with great specificity-exactly why you saw fit to put yourself into the skirmish in such an irresponsible way. Your life is no longer your own, Prince of the Ravens. You cannot toss it aside as you once might have.\"\n\n\"I had to know,\" Mat said, looking out. \"I had to feel the pulse of the battle.\"\n\n\"The pulse?\" Selucia said. Tuon was talking through her by wiggling her fingers like some bloody Maiden of the Spear. Not speaking to him directly. Bad sign.\n\n\"Every battle has a pulse, Tuon,\" Mat said, still staring into the middle distance. \"Nynaeve... she would sometimes feel a person's hand to check their heartbeat, and from there would know that something was wrong with their feet. It's the same thing. Step into the struggle, feel its motion. Know it...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A servant with his head half-shaven stepped up to Tuon, whispering to her and Selucia. He had come from the ford.\n\nMat kept looking out, remembering maps, but overlaying them with the real combat. Bryne failing to use Tylee in combat, exposing his defenses' left flank at the ford, sending his cavalry into a trap.\n\nThe battle opened to him, and he saw tactics, ten steps ahead of what was occurring. It was like reading the future, like what Min saw, only with flesh, blood, swords and battle drums.\n\nMat grunted. \"Huh. Gareth Bryne is a Darkfriend.\"\n\n\"He whatT Min sputtered.\n\n\"This battle is one step away from being doomed,\" Mat said, turning to\n\nTuon. \"I need absolute control of our armies right now. No more arguing with Galgan. Min, I need you to send to Egwene and warn her that Bryne is trying to lose this battle. Tuon, shell need to go in person. I doubt Egwene will listen to anyone else.\"\n\nEveryone looked at Mat with stunned expressions-everyone but Tuon, who gave him one of those soul-shaking stares of hers. The ones that had him feeling as if he were a mouse who had just been caught in an otherwise immaculately clean room. That made him sweat more than the battle had.\n\nCome on, he thought. There isn't time. He could see it now, like a grand game of stones. Bryne's movements were complex and subtle, but the end result would be the destruction of Egwene's army.\n\nMat could stop it. But he had to act now.\n\n\"It is done,\" Tuon said.\n\nThe comment provoked almost as much surprise as Mat's announcement. Captain-General Galgan looked as if he would rather swallow his own boots than have Mat in command. Min found herself being led away by a group of servants and soldiers, and she gave a squawk of annoyance."
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"value": "Tuon moved her horse nearer to Mat's. \"I am told,\" she said softly, \"that in the battle moments ago, you not only claimed a marath'damane for yourself, but also raised one of our officers to the low Blood.\"\n\nI did?\"Mat asked, baffled.\" I don't remember that.\"\n\n\"You dropped your nail at his feet.\"\n\n\"Oh. That... All right, maybe I did that. Accidentally. And the chan-neler... bloody ashes, Tuon. I didn't mean for her to... I guess. Well, you can have her.\"\n\nNo, Tuon said. It is well for you to have taken one of your own. You cannot train her, of course, but there are many sul'dam who will be eager for the chance. It is very rare that a man captures a damane personally on the battlefield, very rare indeed. Though I know of your particular advantage, others do not. This will greatly increase your reputation.\"\n\nMat shrugged. What else could he do? Maybe, if the damane belonged to him, he could let her free or something.\n\n\"I will have the officer you raised transferred to be your personal retainer,\" Tuon said. \"He has a good record, perhaps too good. He had been assigned that duty at the ford because he was considered... potentially part of a faction who would have moved against us. He is now spouting your praises. I do not know what you did to change his opinion. You seem to have a particular skill at that.\"\n\n\"Lets just hope I have as much skill for retrieving a victory,\" Mat grumbled. \"This is bad, Tuon.\"\n\n\"Nobody else thinks so.\" She said the words carefully, not arguing with him, really. Stating a fact."
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"value": "\"I'm right, anyway. I wish I wasn't, but I am. I bloody am.\"\n\n\"If you are not, I will lose influence.\"\n\n\"You'll be fine,\" Mat said, leading the way back toward the Seanchan camp a few miles north at a brisk pace. \"I may lead you wrong now and then, but in the end, you can be sure that I'm always a safe bet.\"\n\nCHAPTER"
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"value": "The Way of the Predator\n\nPerrin and Gaul did another dismayed round of Egwene's camp-at least, the little of it that reflected in the wolf dream. Her army had been pushed far to the east, and the tents had not been placed long enough at the river to reflect strongly in the wolf dream.\n\nThe wolves had spotted Graendal here, but Perrin had not been able to catch her at whatever she was doing.\n\nThree times now, Slayer had tried attacking the Bore, and the wolves had warned Perrin. Each time, Slayer had withdrawn before Perrin arrived. The man was testing them. It was the way of the predator, surveying the herd, searching for the weak.\n\nAt least Perrins plan with the wolves had worked. Time progressed slowly in the Bore, and so Slayer-by necessity-was slowed down as he tried to reach Rand. That gave Perrin a chance to reach him in time.\n\n\"We need to warn the others about Graendal,\" Perrin said, stopping in the center of camp. \"She must be communicating with Darkfriends in our camps.\"\n\nPerhaps we could go to those at the Bore? You managed to speak to Nynaeve Sedai.\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Perrin said. \"I don't know if it would be good to distract Nynaeve again, considering what she is up to.\" Perrin turned about, looking at the bedrolls that flickered, then vanished in the wolf dream. He and Gaul had checked at Merrilor fora gateway, but none was there currently. If\n\nhe wanted to go back to the waking world, he'd need to camp there and wait for hours. It seemed like such a waste.\n\nIf only he could figure out how to shift back to the real world himself. Lanfear implied that he might be able to learn the trick, but his only clue in how to do so lay in Slayer. Perrin tried remembering the moment when the man had shifted out. Had Perrin sensed anything? A hint to how Slayer did what he did?"
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"value": "He shook his head. He'd gone over and over that, and had come to no conclusions. With a sigh, he quested out for the wolves. Any sign of Heartseeker? he asked hopefully.\n\nThe wolves sent amusement. He had been asking them too frequently.\n\nHave you seen any camps of two-legs, then? Perrin sent.\n\nThis earned a vague response. Wolves paid attention to men only to avoid them; in the wolf dream, that didn't matter much. Still, where men congregated, nightmares sometimes ran wild, so the wolves had learned to keep their distance.\n\nHe would have liked to know how the other battles were progressing. What of Elayne's army, Perrin's men, Lord and Lady Bashere? Perrin led Gaul away; they ran with quick strides, rather than jumping to a place immediately. Perrin wanted to think.\n\nThe longer he remained in the wolf dream in the flesh, the more he felt that he should know how to shift back. His body seemed to understand that this place was not natural for it. He hadn't slept here, despite... how long had it been? He could not say. They were almost at the end of their rations, though he felt as though he and Gaul had been here only a handful of hours. Part of that sensation was caused by frequent approaches to the Bore to check on the dreamspike, but it was generally so easy to lose track of time here.\n\nThere was also an ache of fatigue inside him, growing stronger. He didn't know if he could sleep in this place. His body wanted rest, but had forgotten how to find it. It reminded him a little of when Moiraine had dispelled their fatigue while fleeing the Two Rivers all that time ago. Two years now."
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"value": "Avery long two years.\n\nPerrin and Gaul inspected Lan's camp next. It was even more ephemeral than Egwene's; using the wolf dream for surveillance here was pointless. Lan moved with lots of cavalry, retreating at speed. He and his men did not remain in one place long enough to reflect in the wolf dream except in the most fleeting of ways.\n\nThere were no signs of Graendal. \"Aariallein is retreating too\" Gaul guessed, surveying the rocky ground that they thought was Lan's camp. There were no tents here, just the occasional fleeting appearance of sleeping rings marked by a pole at the center where horsemen would hobble their animals.\n\nGaul looked up, scanning the landscape to the west. \"If they keep falling back from here, they will eventually reach the Field of Merrilor again. Perhaps that is the goal.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Perrin said. \"I want to visit Elayne's battlefront and-\"\n\nYoung Bull, a wolf called to him. He found the'voice\" of the sending to be familiar somehow. She is here.\n\nHere? Perrin sent. Heartseeker?\n\nCome.\n\nPerrin grabbed Gaul by the arm and shifted them far to the north. Graendal was at Shayol Ghul? Was she trying to break in and kill Rand?\n\nThey arrived on a ledge overlooking the valley. He and Gaul went down immediately to their stomachs, peering over the edge, inspecting the valley. An old, grizzled wolf appeared beside Perrin. He knew this wolf, he was certain of it-the scent was familiar, but he could not place a name to him, and the wolf did not send one.\n\n\"Where?\" Perrin whispered. \"Is she in the cavern?\""
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"value": "No, the grizzled wolf sent. There.\n\nThe wolf sent an image of tents clustered in the valley just below the entrance to the cavern. She had not been spotted in this valley since that first time Perrin had caught her here.\n\nIturalde's troops had been holding here for long enough that their tents were becoming more and more stable in the wolf dream. Perrin shifted, carefully, down below. Gaul and the wolf joined him as he prowled forward, relying on the wolfs Sending to lead him.\n\nThere, the wolf said, nodding toward a large tent at the center. Perrin had seen Graendal here before, at this tent, the tent of Rodel Ituralde.\n\nPerrin froze as the tent's flap rustled. Graendal stepped out. She looked as she had before, with a face like a slab of rock.\n\nPerrin created a thin, painted wall to hide himself, but he needn't have bothered. Graendal immediately created a gateway and stepped into the waking world. It was night there, though time passed at such a strange rate this close to the Bore, that might not mean much for the rest of the world.\n\nPerrin could seethe same tent darkly on the other side of the gateway, two Domani guards out front. Graendal waved a hand, and both stood up straighter and saluted her.\n\nThe gateway began to close as Graendal slipped into the tent. Perrin hesitated, then shifted to stand just in front of the gateway. He had a moment to decide. Follow?\n\nNo. He had to keep watch on Slayer. However, being this close, he felt something... an awareness. Stepping through that gateway would be like...\n\nLike waking up."
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"value": "The gateway snapped shut. Perrin felt a stab of regret, but knew staying in the wolf dream had been right. Rand was all but defenseless against Slayer here; he would need Perrins help.\n\n\"We need to send warning,\" Perrin said.\n\nI suppose I could take the message for you, Young Bull, sent the unnamed wolf.\n\nPerrin froze, then spun, pointing. \"Elyas!\"\n\nI am Long Tooth here, Young Bull. Elyas sent amusement.\n\n\"I thought you said you didn't come here.\"\n\nI said I avoided it. This place is strange and dangerous. I have enough strangeness and danger in my life in the other world. The wolf sat down on his haunches. But someone needed to check on you, foolish pup.\n\nPerrin smiled. Elyas' thoughts were a strange mix of wolf and human. His way of sending was very wolflike, but the way he thought of himself was too individual, too human.\n\n\"How goes the fight?\" Perrin asked eagerly. Gaul took up position nearby, watching, alert, in case Graendal or Slayer appeared. The field before them, the floor of the valley, was quiet for once. The winds had died down, the dust on the sandy ground stirring in small rifts and ripples. Like water.\n\nI do not know of the other battlefields, Elyas sent, and we wolves stay far from the two-legs. We fight, here and there, at the edges of the battle. Mostly, we have attacked the Twisted Ones and Neverborn from the other side of the canyon, where there are no two-legs except those strange Aiel.\n\nIt is a grueling fight. Shadowkiller must do quick work. We have stood five days, but may not last many more."
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"value": "Five days herein the north. Much longer had passed in the rest of the world since Rand entered to face the Dark One. Rand himself was so close to the Bore that it was likely only hours-maybe minutes-had passed for him. Perrin could feel how time moved differently when he drew near to where Rand fought.\n\n\"Ituralde,\" Perrin said, scratching at his beard. \"He's one of the great captains.\"\n\nYes, Elyas sent, smelling of amusement. Some call him'Little Wolf.\" \"Bashere is with Elayne's army,\" Perrin said. \"And Gareth Bryne is with Egwene. Agelmar is with the Borderlanders and Lan.\"\n\nI do not know.\n\n\"He is. Four battlefronts. Four great captains. That's what she's doing.\" \"Graendal?\" Gaul asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" Perrin said, anger gathering. \"She's doing something to them, changing their minds, corrupting them. I overheard her saying... Yes. That's it, I'm certain. Instead of fighting our armies with armies of her own, she plans to bring down the great captains. Elyas, do you know how a man can shift in and out of the wolf dream in the flesh?\"\n\nEven if I knew this thing-which I do not-I would not teach it to you, Elyas said with a growl. Has nobody told you it is a terrible, dangerous thing that you do?\n\n\"Too many,\" Perrin said. \"Light! We need to warn Bashere. I must-\" \"Perrin Aybara!\" Gaul said, pointing. \"He is here!\"\n\nPerrin spun to see a dark blur streak upward toward the entrance to the Pit of Doom. Wolves whimpered and died. Others howled, beginning the hunt. This time, Slayer did not back away."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "The way of the predator."
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"value": "Two or three quick lunges to determine weakness, then an all-out attack.\n\n\"Wake!\" Perrin called to Elyas, running up the incline. \"Warn Elayne, Egwene, anyone you can! And if you cannot, stop Ituralde somehow. The great captains are being corrupted. One of the Forsaken controls their minds, and their tactics cannot be trusted!\"\n\nI will do it, Young Bull, Elyas sent, fading.\n\n\"Go to Rand, Gaul!\" Perrin roared. \"Guard the way to him! Do not let any of those red-veils pass you!\"\n\nPerrin summoned his hammer to his hands, not waiting fora reply, then shifted to confront Slayer.\n\nRand clashed with Moridin, sword against sword, standing before the darkness that was the essence of the Dark One. The cold expanse was somehow both infinite and empty.\n\nRand held so much of the One Power that he nearly burst. He would need that strength in the fight to come. For now, he resisted Moridin sword\n\nagainst sword. He wielded Callandor as a physical weapon, fighting as if with a sword made of light itself, parrying Moridin s attacks.\n\nEach step Rand took dripped blood to the ground. Nynaeve and Moiraine clung to stalagmites as if something were battering them, a wind that Rand could not sense. Nynaeve closed her eyes. Moiraine stared straight ahead as if determined not to look away, no matter the price.\n\nRand turned aside Moridin's latest attack, the blades throwing sparks. He had always been the better swordsman of the two, during the Age of Legends.\n\nHe had lost his hand, but thanks to Tam, that no longer mattered as it once might have. And he was also wounded. This place... this place changed things. Rocks on the ground seemed to move, and he often stumbled. The air grew alternately musty and dry, then humid and moldy. Time slipped around them like a stream. Rand felt as if he could see it. Each blow here took moments, yet hours passed outside."
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"value": "He scored Moridin across the arm, drawing his blood to spray against the wall.\n\n\"My blood and yours,\" Rand said. \"I have you to thank for this wound in my side, Elan. You thought you were the Dark One, didn't you? Has he punished you for that?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Moridin snarled. \"He returned me to life.\" Moridin came swinging hard in a two-handed blow. Rand stepped backward, catching the blow on Callandor; but he misjudged the slope of the ground. Either that, or the slope changed on him. Rand stumbled, the blow forcing him down on one knee.\n\nBlade against blade. Rand's leg slipped backward, and brushed the darkness behind, which waited like a pool of ink.\n\nAll went black.\n\nThe distant Ogier song was comforting to Elayne as she slumped in her saddle atop the hill just north of Cairhien.\n\nThe women around her weren't in any better shape than she was. Elayne had gathered all of the Kinswomen who could hold onto saidar-no matter how weak or tired-and formed two circles with them. She had twelve with her in her own circle, but their collective strength in the Power at the moment was barely more than that of a single Aes Sedai.\n\nElayne had stopped channeling in an attempt to let the women recover. Most of them slumped in their saddles or sat on the ground. In front of\n\nthem extended a ragged battle line. Men fought desperately before the Cairhienin hills, trying to hold against the sea of Trollocs.\n\nTheir victory over the northern Trolloc army had been short-lived, as they now found themselves strung-out, exhausted and in serious danger of being surrounded by the southern one."
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"value": "\"We almost managed,\" Arganda said from beside her, shaking his head. \"We almost made it.\"\n\nHe wore a plume in his helmet. It had belonged to Gallenne. Elayne hadn't been there when the Mayener commander had fallen.\n\nThat was the frustrating part. They were close. Despite Bashere's betrayal, despite the unexpected arrival of the southern force, they had almost pulled it off. If she'd had more time to position her men, if they'd been able to catch more than a moment's breather between defeating the northern army and then turning to meet this southern one...\n\nBut that was not the case. Nearby, the proud Ogier fought to protect the dragons, but the Ogier were slowly being overrun. The ancient creatures had begun to collapse, like felled trees, pulled down by Trollocs. One by one, their songs broke off.\n\nArganda held a bloodied hand to his side, pale-faced, barely able to speak. She didn't have the strength to Heal him. \"That Warder of yours is a fiend on the battlefield, Your Majesty. Her arrows fly like light itself. I'd swear...\" Arganda shook his head. He might never hold a sword again, even if Healed.\n\nHe should have been sent with the other wounded... somewhere. There wasn't really anywhere to take them; the channelers were too exhausted to make gateways.\n\nHer people were fracturing. The Aiel fought in clumps, the White-cloaks nearly surrounded, the Wolf Guard in no better shape. The Legion of the Dragon heavy cavalry still rode, but Bashere's betrayal had shaken them.\n\nNow and then, a dragon fired. Aludra had rolled them backup to the top of the highest hill, but they were out of ammunition, and the channelers didn't have strength to make gateways to Baerlon to fetch the new dragons\" eggs. Aludra had fired bits of armor until her powder ran low. Now they had only enough for the occasional shot."
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"value": "The Trollocs would push through her lines soon, fragmenting her army like ravenous lions. Elayne watched from one of the hilltops, guarded by ten of her Guardswomen. The rest had gone to fight. Trollocs broke through the Aiel to the east of her position, right near the dragoner hilltop position.\n\nThe beasts charged up the hill, killing the few Ogier defenders on that side, roaring their victory as the dragoners pulled out sabers and grimly stood to defend.\n\nElayne wasn't ready to let the dragons go yet. She gathered strength through the circle; women groaned around her. She took up barely a dribble of the Power, far less than she'd hoped, and directed Fire at the lead Trollocs.\n\nHer attack arced in the air toward the Shadowspawn. She felt she was trying to stop a storm by spitting at the wind. That lone ball of fire hit.\n\nThe earth exploded beneath it, ripping the hillside and hurling dozens of Trollocs back in the air.\n\nElayne started, causing Moonshadow to shuffle beneath her. Arganda cursed.\n\nSomeone rode up beside heron a large black horse, emerging as if from smoke. The man was of medium build and had dark curls of hair down to his shoulders. Logain looked thinner than she remembered from last time she'd seen him, his cheeks sunken, but his face was still handsome.\n\n\"Logain?\" she said, shocked.\n\nThe Asha'man gestured sharply. Explosions sounded all across the battlefield. Elayne turned to see over a hundred men in black coats marching through a large gateway on top of her hill.\n\n\"Pull those Ogier back,\" Logain said. His ragged voice was raw. Those eyes of his seemed darker now than they once had been. \"We will hold this position.\""
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"value": "Elayne blinked, then nodded for Arganda to pass the command. Logain shouldn't give orders tome, she thought absently. For the moment, she let it pass.\n\nLogain turned his horse and rode to the side of the hilltop, looking down at her army. Elayne followed, feeling numb. Trollocs fellas Asha man called up strange attacks, gateways that seemed tied to the ground somehow. They stormed forward, killing the Shadowspawn.\n\nLogain grunted. \"You're in bad shape.\"\n\nShe forced her mind to work. The Asha'man were here. \"Did Rand send you?\"\n\n\"We sent ourselves,\" Logain said. \"The Shadow has been planning this trap fora longtime, according to notes in Taim's study. I only just managed to decipher them.\" He looked at her. \"We came to you first. The Black Tower stands with the Lion of Andor.\"\n\n\"We need to get my people out of here,\" Elayne said, forcing her mind to think through the cloud of fatigue. Her army needed a queen. \"Mothers milk in a cup! This is going to cost us.\" She'd probably lose half her force withdrawing. Better half than all of them. \"I'll start bringing my men back in ranks. Can you make enough gateways to lead us to safety?\"\n\n\"That wouldn't be a problem\" Logain said absently, looking down the slope. His impassive face would have impressed any Warder. \"But it will be a slaughter. There's no room fora good retreat, and your lines will grow weaker and weaker as you pullback. The last ranks will be overwhelmed and consumed.\"\n\n\"I don't see that we have any other choice,\" Elayne snapped, exhausted. Light! Here, help had come, and she was snapping. Stop it. She composed herself, sitting up straighter. \"I mean to say that your arrival, while appreciated greatly, cannot turn a battle that is this far gone. A hundred Asha'man cannot stop a hundred thousand Trollocs on their own. If we could arrange our battle lines better, get at least a short rest for my men... but no. That is impossible. We must retreat-unless you can produce a miracle, Lord Logain.\""
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"value": "He smiled, perhaps at her use of'lord\" for him. \"Androl!\" he barked.\n\nA middle-aged Asha'man hurried over, a plump Aes Sedai joining him. Pevara? Elayne thought, too exhausted to make sense of it. A Red?\n\n\"My Lord?\" the man, Androl, asked.\n\n\"I need to slow that army of Trollocs long enough for the army to regroup and refield itself, Androl,\" Logain said. \"How much will it cost us fora miracle?\"\n\n\"Well, my Lord,\" Androl said, rubbing his chin. \"That depends. How many of those women sitting back there can channel?\"\n\nIt was a thing of legends.\n\nElayne had heard of the great works performed by large circles of men and women. Every woman in the White Tower was taught of these feats from the past, stories of different days, better days. Days when one half of the One Power had not been a thing to fear, when two halves of one whole had worked together to create incredible wonders.\n\nShe wasn't sure the days of legend had truly returned. Certainly, the Aes Sedai during those times hadn't been so worried, so desperate. But what they did now left Elayne in awe.\n\nShe joined in the circle, making the total fourteen women and twelve men. She barely had any strength to lend, but her trickle added to the increasingly large stream. More importantly, a circle had to have at least one more woman than it had men-and now that she had joined, Logain could come in last of all and add his considerable strength to the flow.\n\nAt the head of this circle was Androl, an odd choice. Now that she was part of the circle, she could feel his relative strength. He was extremely weak, weaker than many women who were turned away from the Tower, refused the shawl because of their lack of innate talent."
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"value": "Elayne and the others had relocated to the far side of the battlefield."
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"value": "The rest of the Asha'man held back the attacking Trolloc horde as Androl prepared. Whatever he did, it would need to be swift. Elayne still had trouble believing anything could be done. Even with this much power, even with thirteen men and fourteen women working together.\n\n\"Light,\" Androl whispered, standing between her horse and Logain's. \"Is this what it feels like to be one of you people? How do you handle so much of the One Power? How do you keep it from consuming you alive, burning you away?\"\n\nPevara rested her hand on his shoulder in a gesture that was unmistakably tender. Elayne could barely rub two thoughts together amid her fatigue, but she still found herself shocked. She had not expected affection from a Red fora man who could channel.\n\n\"Move the soldiers back,\" Androl said softly.\n\nElayne gave the order, worried. The man beside her had never held this kind of power before. It could go to someone's head; she had seen it happen. Light send that he knew what he was doing.\n\nThe soldiers and others retreated, passing by Elayne's group. Several tired Ogier nodded to her in passing, their shoulders slumped, their arms scored with cuts. The Trollocs poured forward, but the Asha'man who weren't in the circle disrupted their attack with weaves of the One Power.\n\nIt wasn't enough. Though the Asha'man fought well, there were just so many Trollocs. The Asha'man could not stop this tide. What did Logain think could be done?\n\nAndrol smiled widely, and held his hands out in front of himself as if pressing against a wall. He closed his eyes. \"Three thousand years ago the Lord Dragon created Dragonmount to hide his shame. His rage still burns hot. Today... I bring it to you, Your Majesty.\""
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"value": "Abeam of light split the air, easily a hundred feet tall. Moonshadow shied back and Elayne frowned. Why a column of light? What good would that... The beam of light began to twist in the air, rotating upon itself. Only then did Elayne recognize it for the start of a gateway. An enormous\n\ngateway, large enough to swallow buildings. She could have moved an entire wing of the Caemlyn palace through that thing!\n\nThe air shimmered in front of them, the way a gateway always looked from behind. She couldn't see where the gateway was leading. Did they have an army waiting on the other side?\n\nShe could seethe expressions on the slavering Trolloc faces as they looked into the opening. Absolute horror. They broke away, running, and Elayne felt a sudden heat, almost overpowering.\n\nSomething exploded out of the gateway, as if pushed by an incredible force. A column of lava a hundred feet in diameter, blazing hot. The column broke apart as the lava crashed down, splashing to the battlefield, gushing forward in a river. The Asha'man outside the circle used weaves of Air to keep it from splashing back on the circle and to shepherd it in the right direction.\n\nThe river of fire washed through the foremost Trolloc ranks, consuming them, destroying hundreds in an eyeblink. The lava was under pressure on the other side; that was the only way she could explain the force with which it sprayed from the enormous gateway, turning Trollocs into cinders, burning a large swath through their army.\n\nAndrol held the gateway for long minutes as the Shadow's army pulled back. Asha'man to the sides used gusts of wind to blow the Shadowspawn back into the ever-widening river. By the time Androl finished, he had created a barrier of red-hot death between Elayne's army and the bulk of the Trollocs, whose backs were against the northern walls of Cairhien."
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"value": "Androl took a breath, closed the gateway, then pivoted and made two others in quick succession, one pointing southeast, the other southwest.\n\nA second and third column of lava spurted forth-smaller this time, as Androl was obviously weakened. These went tumbling over the land to the east and west of Cairhien, singeing away dead weeds and casting smoke into the air. Some of the Trolloc army had pulled back, but many others had perished, boxed in, with the walled city on one side and lava on others. It would be sometime before the Fades could organize the survivors to resume their attacks on Elayne's forces.\n\nAndrol let the gateway close. He slumped, but Pevara caught him.\n\n\"One miracle, my Lord,\" Androl said, voice soft, as if strained. \"Delivered as requested. That should hold them back fora few hours. Long enough?\"\n\n\"Long enough,\" Elayne said. \" We will be able to regroup, bring through supplies for the dragons, and fetch as many Aes Sedai from Mayene as we\n\ncan get to Heal our men and wash away their fatigue. Then we can sort through who is strong enough to continue and reposition our ranks fora much more effective battle.\"\n\n\"You intend to keep fighting?\" Androl asked, surprised.\n\n\"Yes,\" Elayne said. \"I can barely stand, but yes. We cannot afford to leave that Trolloc horde here intact. You and your men give us an edge, Logain. We will use it, and everything we have, and we will destroy them.\"\n\nA Tempest of Water\n\nEgwene looked across the river at the struggle raging between her forces and the Sharan army. She had arrived back at her camp on the Arafellin side of the ford. She was itching to join the battle against the Shadow again, but she also needed to talk with Bryne about what had happened at the hills. She had arrived to find the command tent empty."
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "CHAPTER\n\nThe camp continued to fill with Aes Sedai and the surviving archers and pikemen who were coming through gateways from the hilltops to the south. The Aes Sedai were milling about and speaking to each other with some urgency. They all seemed worn out, but it was clear from their frequent glances toward the battle taking place across the river that they were as eager as Egwene was to rejoin the fight against the Shadow.\n\nEgwene summoned the messenger who was standing in front of the command tent. \" Get word to the sisters that they have less than an hour to rest. Those Trollocs we were fighting will be joining the battle at the river soon, now that we have left the hills...\n\nShe'd move the Aes Sedai downriver on this side, then attack them across the water as they moved across the fields to attack her soldiers. \"Tell the archers they'll be marching with us as well,\" she added. \"They may as well put their remaining arrows to good use, until we can get them another supply.\"\n\nAs the messenger rushed off, Egwene turned to Leilwin, who was\n\nstanding with her husband, Bayle Domon, nearby. \"Leilwin, those look like Seanchan cavalry troops across the river. Do you know anything about that?\"\n\n\"Yes, Mother, they are Seanchan. That man standing over there-\" She pointed to a man with shaved temples standing by a tree down toward the river; he wore voluminous trousers and, incongruously, a tattered brown coat which looked as if it might have come from the Two Rivers. \"-he told me that a legion commanded by Lieutenant-General Khirgan had come from the Seanchan camp, and that they had been summoned by General Bryne.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He also said that they do be accompanied by the Prince of Ravens,\" Domon interjected.\n\n\"Mat?\"\n\n\"He did more than accompany them. He do be leading one of the cavalry banners, the ones giving the Sharans a hiding on our army's left flank. He got there just in time, our pikemen were getting the worst of it before he showed up.\"\n\n\"Egwene,\" Gawyn said, pointing.\n\nTo the south, a few hundred paces below the ford, a small number of soldiers were hauling themselves from the river. They had stripped to their smallclothes and carried swords tied to their backs. It was too far to be sure, but one of their leaders looked familiar.\n\n\"Is that Uno?\" Egwene frowned, then waved for her horse. She mounted and galloped, with Gawyn and her guards, along the river to where the men lay gasping on the bank, and the sound of one man cursing filled the air.\n\n\"Uno!\"\n\n\"It's about bloody flaming time someone came!\" Uno stood as he saluted in respect. \"Mother, we're in bad shape!\"\n\n\"I saw.\" Egwene gritted her teeth. \"I was in the hills when your force was attacked. We did what we could, but there were just too many of them. How did you get out?\"\n\n\"How did we flaming get out, Mother? When the men started dropping all around us and we figured we was goners, we flaming rode out of there like a flaming lightning bolt had struck our flaming hindquarters! We got to the frog-kissing river on the run, stripped and jumped in, swimming for all we were bloody worth, Mother, with all due respect!\" Unos topknot danced as he continued to blaspheme, and Egwene could have sworn the eye painted on his eyepatch became a more intense red."
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Uno took a deep breath and continued, a little more subdued. \"I can't understand it, Mother. Some goat-headed messenger told us that the Aes Sedai on the hills were in trouble and we needed to go up the flaming backsides of the Trollocs attacking them. I said, who's going to mind the left flank at the river, and, for that bloody matter, our own bloody flank when we attack the Trollocs, and he said that General Bryne had that taken care of, reserve cavalry would move up into our position at the river, and the II-lianers would watch out for our bloody flanks. Some protection they were, all right, one flaming squadron, like a flaming fly trying to fend off a flaming falcon! Oh, they were just waiting for us, like they knew we was coming. No, Mother, this can't be the fault of Gareth Bryne, we've been tricked by some sheep-gutted milk-drinking traitor! With all due respect, Mother!\"\n\n\"I can't believe that, Uno. I just heard that General Bryne had brought in a legion of Seanchan cavalry. Maybe they were simply late getting here. We 11 sort it all out when I find the general. Meanwhile, get your men back to camp so they can have a proper rest. Light knows you've earned it.\"\n\nUno nodded, and Egwene galloped back toward camp.\n\nUsing Vora's sa'angreal, Egwene wove Air and Water, spinning them together. A funnel of water surged up, drawn from the river beneath. Egwene blew her tornado of water into the Trollocs that were beginning their assault against her army's left flank on the Kandori side of the river. Her tempest of water surged across them. It wasn't strong enough to pull any of them into the air-she didn't have the energy for that-but it drove them back, hands to their faces."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Behind her and the other Aes Sedai positioned on the Arafellin side of the river, archers loosed volleys of arrows into the sky. Those didn't darken the sky the way she would have liked-there weren't so many-but they did take down more than a hundred Trollocs with each wave.\n\nTo the side, Pylar and a couple of other Browns-all adept with weaves of Earth-caused the ground to erupt under the charging Trollocs. Spread out next to her, Myrelle and a large contingent of Greens wove fireballs that they lobbed over the water into bunched-up groups of Trollocs, many of whom continued to run a considerable distance before they collapsed, engulfed inflames.\n\nThe Trollocs howled and roared, but continued their relentless progress against the defenders at the river's edge. Atone point, several ranks of Seanchan cavalry moved out from the defensive lines and attacked the Trolloc onslaught head-on. It happened so quickly that many of the Trollocs were unable to raise their spears before contact was made; large swaths of the foe in the front ranks went down. The Seanchan swept to the side and returned to their lines at the river.\n\nEgwene held to her channeling, forcing herself to work through sheer exhaustion. But the Trollocs didn't break; they grew enraged, attacking the humans with a frenzy. Egwene could hear their yells distinctly over the sounds of wind and water.\n\nThe Trollocs grew angry, did they? Well, they would not know anger until they had felt that of the Amyrlin Seat. Egwene pulled in more and more of the Power until she was at the very edges of her ability. She put heat into her tempest so that the scalding water burned Trolloc eyes, hands, hearts. She felt herself yelling, Vora's sa'angreal thrust before her like a spear."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What seemed like hours went by. Eventually, exhausted, she allowed Gawyn to talk her into pulling back fora time. Gawyn went to fetch her horse and as he was returning, Egwene looked across the river.\n\nThere was no doubt about it; her army's left flank had already been pushed another thirty paces. Even with the Aes Sedai aid, they were losing this battle.\n\nIt was long past time for her to find Gareth Bryne.\n\nWhen Egwene and Gawyn got back to camp, she climbed from her horse and gave it to Leilwin, telling her to use it to help carry the wounded. There were plenty of those who had been dragged across the ford to safety, bloodied soldiers slumping against the arms of friends.\n\nUnfortunately, she hadn't the strength for Healing, let alone a gateway to send wounded to Tar Valon or Mayene. Most of the Aes Sedai not busy at the riverbank didn't look as if they were doing any better.\n\n\"Egwene,\" Gawyn said softly. \"Rider. Seanchan. Looks like a noblewoman.\"\n\nOne of the Blood? Egwene thought, standing and looking through camp toward where Gawyn pointed. At least he had the strength left to keep a lookout. Why any woman would voluntarily go without a Warder was beyond her.\n\nThe woman approaching wore fine Seanchan silks, and Egwene's stomach turned at the sight. That finery existed because of a foundation of enslaved channelers, forced into obedience to the Crystal Throne. The woman was certainly one of the Blood, as a contingent of Deathwatch Guards accompanied her. You had to be very important for...\n\n\"Light!\" Gawyn exclaimed. \"Is that Min?\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist with the plot and keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 6"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Slayer snorted."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're like a boy with his father's sword. Dangerous, but completely unaware of why, or how to use your weapons.\"\n\n\"We'll see who-\" Perrin began, but Slayer lunged, sword out. Perrin braced himself, imagining the sword growing dull, the air becoming thick to slow it, his skin turning hard enough to turn the weapon aside.\n\nA second later, Perrin found himself tumbling through the air.\n\nFool! he thought. He'd focused so much on the attack that he hadn't been ready when Slayer changed their footing. Perrin passed through the rumbling cloud, breaking out into the sky below, wind tugging at his clothing. He prepared himself, waiting for the hail of arrows to follow him down out of the cloud. Slayer could be so predictable...\n\nNo arrows came. Perrin fell fora few moments, then cursed and twisted to see a storm of arrows shooting up from the ground below. He shifted seconds before they passed through where he'd been.\n\nPerrin appeared in the air a hundred feet to the side, still falling. He didn't bother to slow himself; he hit the ground, increasing his body's strength to deal with the shock of the blow. The ground cracked. A ring of dust blew out from him.\n\nThe storm was far worse than it had been. The ground here-they were in the south, somewhere, with overgrown brush and tangled vines growing up the sides of the trees-was pocked and torn. Lightning lashed repeatedly, so frequent that he could hardly count to three without seeing a bolt.\n\nThere was no rain, but the landscape crumbled. Entire hills would suddenly disintegrate. The one just to Perrin's left dissolved like an enormous pile of dust, a trail of dirt and sand streaking out into the wind."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perrin leaped through the debris-laden sky, hunting Slayer. Had the man shifted backup to Shayol Ghul? No. Two more arrows pierced the sky, heading for Perrin. Slayer was very good at making them ignore the wind.\n\nPerrin slapped the arrows aside and hurled himself in Slayer's direction. He spotted the man on a peak of rock, ground crumbling to either side of him and whipping into the air.\n\nPerrin came down with hammer swinging. Slayer shifted away, of course, and the hammer struck stone with a sound like thunder. Perrin growled. Slayer was too quick!\n\nPerrin was fast, too. Sooner or later, one of them would slip. One slip would be enough.\n\nHe caught sight of Slayer bounding away, and followed. When Perrin jumped off the next hilltop, the stones shattered behind him, rising up into the wind. The Pattern was weakening. Beyond that, his will was much stronger now that he was herein the flesh. He no longer had to worry about entering the dream too strongly and losing himself. He had entered it as strongly as one could.\n\nAnd so, when Perrin moved, the landscape shuddered around him. The next leap showed him sea ahead. They had traveled much farther to the south than Perrin had realized. Were they in Illian? Tear?\n\nSlayer hit the beach, where water crashed against rocks; the sand-if there had been any-had been blown away. The land seemed to be returning to a primal state, grass ripped free, soil eroded, leaving only stone and crashing waves.\n\nPerrin landed beside Slayer. For once, there was no shifting. Both men were intent on the fight, the swings of hammer and sword. Metal clanged against metal."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Perrin nearly landed a hit, his hammer brushing Slayer's clothing."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He heard a curse, but the next moment, Slayer was rounding from his dodge with a large axe in hand. Perrin braced himself and took it on the side, hardening his skin.\n\nThe axe didn't draw blood, not with Perrin braced as he was, but it did carry a huge amount of force behind it. The blow tossed Perrin out over the sea.\n\nSlayer appeared above him a second later, plunging down with that axe. Perrin caught it on his hammer as he fell, but the force of the blow flung him downward, toward the ocean.\n\nHe commanded the water to recede. It rushed away, churning and bubbling, as if pursued by a powerful wind. Perrin righted himself as he fell, landing and cracking the still-wet, rocky bottom of the bay. Seawater rose high to either side of him, a circular wall some thirty feet high.\n\nSlayer crashed down nearby. The man was panting from the exertion of their fight. Good. Perrin's own fatigue manifested as a deep burning in his muscles.\n\n\"I'm glad you were there,\" Slayer said, raising his sword to his shoulder, his shield vanishing. \"I had so hoped that, when I appeared to kill the Dragon, you would interfere.\"\n\n\"What are you, Luc?\" Perrin asked, wary, shifting to the side, keeping opposite Slayer in the circle of stone with walls of sea. \"What are you really?\"\n\nSlayer prowled to the side, talking-Perrin knew-to lull his prey. \"I've seen him, you know,\" Slayer said softly. \" The Dark One, the Great Lord as\n\nsome would call him. Both terms are gross, almost insulting, understatements.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you really think he'll reward you?\" Perrin spat. \"How can you not realize that once you've done what he wishes of you, he'll just discard you, as he has so many?\"\n\nSlayer laughed. \"Did he discard the Forsaken, when they failed and were imprisoned with him in the Bore? He could have slaughtered them all and kept their souls in eternal torment. Did he?\"\n\nPerrin didn't reply.\n\n\"The Dark One does not discard useful tools,\" Slayer said. \"Fail him, and he may exact punishment, but he never discards. He's like a goodwife, with her balls of tangled yarn and broken teakettles hidden away in the bottoms of baskets, waiting for the right moment to return them to usefulness. That is where you're wrong, Aybara. A mere human might kill a tool who succeeds, fearing that the tool will threaten him. That is not the Dark One's way. He will reward me.\"\n\nPerrin opened his mouth to reply, and Slayer shifted right in front of him to attack, thinking him distracted. Perrin vanished and Slayer struck only air. The man spun about, sword splitting the air, but Perrin had shifted to the opposite side. Small sea creatures with many arms undulated near his feet, confused at the sudden lack of water. Something large and dark swam through the shadowy water behind Slayer.\n\n\"You never answered my question,\" Perrin said. \"What are you?\"\n\n\"I'm bold,\" Slayer said, striding forward. \"And I'm tired of being afraid. In this life, there are predators and there are prey. Often, the predators themselves become food for someone else. The only way to survive is to move up the chain, become the hunter.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That's why you kill wolves?\"\n\nSlayer smiled a dangerous smile, his face in shadows. With the storm clouds above and the high walls of water, it was dim here at the bottom-though the strange light of the wolf dream pierced this place, if in a muted way.\n\n\"Wolves and men are the finest hunters in this world,\" Slayer said softly. \"Kill them, and you elevate yourself above them. Not all of us had the privilege of growing up in a comfortable home with a warm hearth and laughing siblings.\"\n\nPerrin and Slayer rounded one another, shadows blending, lightning blasts above shimmering through the water.\n\n\"If you knew my life,\" Slayer said, \"you'd howl. The hopelessness, the agony... I soon found my way. My power. In this place, I am a king.\"\n\nHe leaped across the space, his form a blur. Perrin prepared to swing, but Slayer didn't draw his sword. He crashed into Perrin, throwing them both into the wall of water. The sea churned and bubbled around them.\n\nDarkness. Perrin created light, somehow making the rocks at his feet glow. Slayer had hold of his cloak with one hand and was swinging at him in the dark water, his sword trailing bubbles but moving as quickly as in the air. Perrin yelled, bubbles coming from his mouth. He tried to block, but his arms moved lethargically.\n\nIn that frozen moment, Perrin tried to imagine the water not impeding him, but his mind rejected that thought. It wasn't natural. It couldn't be.\n\nIn desperation, Slayer's sword nearly close enough to bite, Perrin froze the water solid around both of them. Doing so nearly crushed him, but it held Slayer still fora precarious moment while Perrin oriented himself. He made his cloak vanish so he wouldn't take Slayer with him, then shifted away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Perrin landed on the rocky beach beside a steep hillside that was half broken away by the power of the sea."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He fell on hands and knees, gasping. Water streamed from his beard. His mind felt... numb. He had trouble thinking the water away from him to dry himself.\n\nWhat's happening? he thought, trembling. Around him, the storm raged, the bark ripping from tree trunks, their limbs already stripped away. He was just so... tired. Exhausted. How long had it been since he slept? Weeks had passed in the real world, but it couldn't actually have been weeks here, could it? It-\n\nThe sea boiled, churning. Perrin turned. He'd kept his hammer, somehow, and he raised it to face Slayer.\n\nThe waters continued to move, but nothing came from them. Suddenly, behind him, the hill split in half. Perrin felt something heavy hit him in the shoulder, like a punch. He fell to his knees, twisting to seethe hillside broken in two, Slayer standing on the other side, nocking another arrow to his bow.\n\nPerrin shifted, desperate, pain belatedly flaring up his side and across his body.\n\n\"All I'm saying is that battles are being fought,\" Mandevwin said, \"and we are not there.\"\n\n\"Battles are always being fought somewhere,\" Vanin replied, leaning back against the wall outside a warehouse in Tar Valon. Faile listened to them with half an ear. \"We've fought our share of them. All I'm saying is that I'm pleased to avoid this particular one.\"\n\n\"People are dying,\" Mandevwin said, disapproving. \"This is not simply a battle, Vanin. It is Tarmon Gai'don itself!\"\n\n\"Which means nobody is paying us,\" Vanin said."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mandevwin sputtered, \"Paying... to fight the Last Battle... You knave! This battle means life itself.\"\n\nFaile smiled as she looked over the supply ledgers. The two Redarms idled by the doorway as servants wearing the Flame of Tar Valon loaded Faile's caravan. Behind them, the White Tower rose over the city.\n\nAt first, she had been annoyed by the banter, but the way Vanin poked at the other man reminded her of Gilber, one of her father's quartermasters back in Saldaea.\n\n\"Now, Mandevwin,\" Vanin said, \"you hardly sound like a mercenary at all! What if Lord Mat heard you?\"\n\n\"Lord Mat will fight,\" said Mandevwin.\n\n\"When he has to,\" Vanin said. \"We don't have to. Look, these supplies are important, right? And someone has to guard them, right? Here we are.\"\n\n\"I just do not see why this job requires us. I should be helping Talmanes lead the Band, and you lot, you should be guarding Lord Mat...\"\n\nFaile could almost hear the end of that line, the one they were all thinking. You should be guarding Lord Mat from those Seanchan.\n\nThe soldiers had taken in stride Mat's disappearance, then his reappearance with the Seanchan. Apparently, they expected this kind of behavior from'Lord\" Matrim Cauthon. Faile had a squad of fifty of the Band's best, including Captain Mandevwin, Lieutenant Sandip and several Redarms who came highly recommended by Talmanes. None of them knew their true purpose in guarding the Horn of Valere.\n\nShe would have brought ten times this number if she could. As it was, fifty was suspicious enough. Those fifty were the Band's very best, some pulled from command positions. They would have to do."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We're not going far, Faile thought, checking the next page of the ledgers. She had to look as if she were concerned about the supplies. Why am I so worried?\n\nShe needed only to carry the Horn to the Field of Merrilor, now that Cauthon had finally appeared. She'd already run three caravans from other locations using the same guards, so her current job wouldn't be suspicious in the least.\n\nShe'd chosen the Band very deliberately. In the eyes of most, they were just mercenaries, so the least important-and least trustworthy-troops in the army. However, for all of her complaints about Mat-she might not know him well, but the way Perrin spoke of him was enough-he did inspire loyalty in his men. The men who found their way to Cauthon were like him. They tried to hide from duty and preferred gambling and drinking to doing anything useful, but in a pinch they'd each fight like ten men.\n\nAt Merrilor, Cauthon would have good reason to check in on Man-devwin and his men. At that point, Faile could give him the Horn. Of course, she also had some members of Cha Faile with her as guards. She wanted some people she knew for certain she could trust.\n\nNearby, Laras-the stout mistress of the kitchens at Tar Valon-came out of the warehouse, wagging a finger at several of the serving girls. The woman walked to Faile, trailed by a lanky youth with a limp who was carrying a beat-up chest.\n\n\"Something for you, my Lady.\" Laras gestured to the trunk. \"The Amyrlin herself added it to your shipment as an afterthought. Something about a friend of hers, from back home?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's Matrim Cauthon's tabac,\" Faile said with a grimace. \"When he found that the Amyrlin had a store of Two Rivers leaf left, he insisted upon purchasing it.\"\n\n\"Tabac, at a time like this.\" Laras shook her head, wiping her fingers on her apron. \"I remember that boy. I've known a youth or two in my day like him, always skulking around the kitchens like astray wanting scraps. Someone ought to find something useful for him to do.\"\n\n\"We're working on it,\" Faile said as Laras\" servant placed the trunk in Faile's own wagon. She winced as he let it thump down, then dusted off his hands.\n\nLaras nodded, walking back into her warehouse. Faile rested her fingers on the chest. Philosophers claimed the Pattern did not have a sense of humor. The Pattern, and the Wheel, simply were\\ they did not care, they did not take sides. However, Faile could not help thinking that somewhere, the Creator was grinning at her. She had left home with her head full of arrogant dreams, a child thinking herself on a grand quest to find the Horn.\n\nLife had knocked those out from under her, leaving her to haul herself backup. She had grownup, had started paying mind to what was really important. And now... now the Pattern, with almost casual indifference, dropped the Horn of Valere into her lap.\n\nShe removed her hand and pointedly refusing to open the chest. She had the key, delivered to her separately, and she would check to see that the Horn was really in the chest. Not now. Not until she was alone and reasonably certain she was safe.\n\nShe climbed into the wagon and rested her feet on the chest."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I still don't like it,\" Mandevwin was saying beside the warehouse.\n\n\"You don't like anything,,\" Vanin said. \"Look, the work we're doing is important. Soldiers have to eat.\"\n\n\"I suppose that is true,\" Mandevwin said.\n\n\"It is!\" anew voice added. Harnan, another Redarm, joined them. Not one of the three, Faile noticed, jumped to help the servants load the caravan. \"Eating is wonderful,\" Harnan said. \"And if there is an expert on the subject, Vanin, it is certainly you.\"\n\nHarnan was a sturdily built man with a wide face and a hawk tattooed on his cheek. Talmanes swore by the man, calling him a veteran survivor of both'the Six-Story Slaughter\" and Hinderstap, whatever those were.\n\n\"Now, that wounds me, Harnan,\" Vanin said from behind. \"That wounds me badly.\"\n\n\"I doubt it,\" Harnan said with a laugh. \"To wound you badly, an attack would first have to penetrate through fat to reach the muscle. I'm not sure Trolloc swords are long enough for that!\"\n\nMandevwin laughed, and the three of them moved off. Faile went over the last few pages of the ledger, then began to climb down, to call for Set-alle Anan. The woman had been acting as her assistant for these caravan runs. As she was climbing down, however, Faile noticed that not all three members of the Band had moved off. Only two of them had. Portly Vanin still stood back there. She saw him, and paused.\n\nVanin immediately lumbered off toward some of the other soldiers. Had he been watching her?"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Faile! Faile! Aravine says she has finished checking over the manifests for you. We can go, Faile.\"\n\nOlver scrambled eagerly into the wagon seat. He had insisted on joining the caravan, and the members of the Band had persuaded her to allow it. Even Setalle had suggested it would be wise to bring him. Apparently, they worried that Olver would find his way to the fighting somehow if he wasn't constantly under their watch. Faile had reluctantly set him to running errands.\n\n\"All right, then,\" Faile said, climbing back into the wagon. \"I suppose we can be off.\"\n\nThe wagons lumbered into motion. She spent the entire trip out of the city trying not to look at the chest.\n\nShe tried to distract herself from thinking about it, but that only brought her mind to another pressing concern. Perrin. She had seen him only briefly during a supply run to Andor. He'd warned her he might have another duty, but had been reluctant to tell her about it.\n\nNow he'd vanished. He'd made Tam steward in his place, had taken a gateway to Shayol Ghul and had vanished. She'd asked those who'd been there, but nobody had seen him since his conversation with Rand.\n\nAll would be well with him, wouldn't it? She was a soldier's daughter and a soldier's wife; she knew not to worry overly much. But a person could not help but worry a little. Perrin had been the one to suggest her as the keeper of the Horn.\n\nShe wondered, idly, if he had done it to keep her off the battlefield. She wouldn't mind terribly if he'd done so, though she would never tell him that. In fact, once this was all said and done, she would insinuate that she was offended and see how he reacted. He needed to know that she would not sit back and be coddled, even if her true name implied otherwise."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Faile pulled her wagon, which was first in the caravan, onto the Jualdhe Bridge out of Tar Valon. About halfway across, the bridge trembled. The horses stomped and tossed their heads as Faile slowed them and glanced over her shoulder. The sight of swaying buildings in Tar Valon proved to her that the trembling wasn't just the bridge, but an earthquake.\n\nThe other horses danced and whinnied, and the shaking rattled carts.\n\n\"We need to move off the bridge, Lady Faile!\" Olver cried.\n\n\"The bridge is much too long for us to get to the other side before this ends,\" Faile said calmly. She had suffered earthquakes in Saldaea before. \"We'd be more in danger of hurting ourselves in the scramble than we will be here. This bridge is Ogier work. We're probably safer here than we'd be on solid ground.\"\n\nIndeed, the earthquake passed without so much as a stone being loosed from the bridge. Faile brought her horses under control and started ahead again. The Light willing, the damage to the city wasn't too bad. She didn't know if earthquakes were common here. With Dragonmount nearby, there would at least be occasional rumblings, wouldn't there?\n\nStill, the earthquake worried her. People spoke of the land becoming unstable, the groanings of the earth coming to match the breaking of the sky by lightning and thunder. She had heard more than one account of the spiderweb cracks that appeared in rocks, pure black, as if they extended on into eternity itself.\n\nOnce the rest of the caravan left the city, Faile pulled her wagons up beside some mercenary bands waiting their turn at an Aes Sedai for Traveling. Faile could not afford to insist on preference; she had to avoid attention. So, nerve-racking though it was, she settled down to wait."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her caravan was last inline for the day. Eventually, Aravine came up to Faile's wagon, and Olver scooted over to make room for her. She patted him on the head. A lot of women responded that way to Olver, and he did seem so innocent much of the time. Faile wasn't convinced; she narrowed her eyes at Olver as he snuggled up beside Aravine. Mat seemed to have had a strong influence on the child.\n\n\"Fm pleased with this shipment, my Lady,\" Aravine said. \"With this canvas, we should have enough material to put tents over the heads of most men in the army. We are still going to need leather. We know that Queen Elayne marched her men hard, and we will begetting requests for new boots.\" Faile nodded absently. A gateway ahead opened to Merrilor, and she could seethe armies, still gathering. Over the last couple of days, they'd slowly limped back to lick their wounds. Three battlefronts, three disasters of varying degrees. Light. The arrival of the Sharans was devastating, as was the betrayals of the great captains, including Faile's own father. The armies of the Light had lost well over a third of their forces.\n\nOn the Field of Merrilor, commanders deliberated and their soldiers repaired armor and weapons, awaiting what would come. A final stand.\n\n\"... will also need some more meat,\" Aravine said. \"We should suggest some quick hunting trips using gateways over the next few days to see what we can find.\"\n\nFaile nodded. It was a comfort, having Aravine. Though Faile still reviewed reports and visited the quartermasters, Aravine's careful attention made the job much easier, like a good sergeant who had made certain his men were in shape before an inspection."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Aravine,\" Faile said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You haven't ever taken one of the gateways to check on your family in Amadicia.\"\n\n\"There is nothing for me there any longer, my Lady.\"\n\nAravine stubbornly refused to admit that she'd been a noble before being taken by the Shaido. Well, at least she didn't act as some of the former gai'shain did, docile and submissive. If Aravine was determined to leave her past behind her, then Faile would gladly give her the chance. It was the least she owed the woman.\n\nAs they talked, Olver climbed down to go chat with some of his'uncles\" among the Redarms. Faile glanced to the side as Vanin rode past with two of the Band's other scouts. He spoke jovially to them.\n\nYou're misreading that look of his, Faile told herself. There's nothing suspicious about the man; you're merely jumpy because of the Horn.\n\nStill, when Harnan came to ask if she needed anything-a member of the Band did that every half-hour-she asked him about Vanin.\n\n\"Vanin?\" Harnan said from horseback. \"Good fellow. He can chew your ear off griping at times, my Lady, but don't let that sour you. He's our best scout.\"\n\n\"I can't imagine how,\" she said. \"I mean, he can't move quickly or quietly with that bulk, can he?\"\n\n\"He'd surprise you, my Lady,\" Harnan said with a laugh. \"I like to rib him, but he really is skilled.\"\n\n\"Has he ever presented any disciplinary problems?\" Faile asked, trying to choose her words. \"Fighting? Lifting things from other men's tents?\" \"Vanin?\" Harnan laughed. \"He'll borrow your brandy if you let him, then return the flask mostly empty. And truth be told, he might have had a bit of thieving in his past, but I've never known him to fight. He's a good man. You don't need to worry about him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some thieving in his past? Harnan, though, looked like he didn't want to talk about it any further. \"Thank you,\" she said, but she remained worried.\n\nHarnan raised a hand to his head in a kind of salute, then rode off. It was three more hours before an Aes Sedai came to process them. Berisha strolled over, giving the caravan a critical inspection. She was hard of features and lean of figure. The other Aes Sedai working the Traveling ground had already returned to Tar Valon by this point, and the sun was dipping toward the horizon.\n\n\"Caravan of foodstuffs and canvas,\" Berisha said, examining Faile's ledger. \"Bound for the Field of Merrilor. We've sent them seven caravans today so far. Why another? I suspect the Caemlyn refugees could use this as much.\" \"The Field of Merrilor is soon going to be a site of great battle,\" Faile said, keeping her temper with difficulty. Aes Sedai did not like to be snapped at. \"I doubt we can oversupply it.\"\n\nBerisha sniffed. \"I say it's too much.\" The woman seemed chronically dissatisfied, as if annoyed at being left out of the fighting.\n\n\"The Amyrlin disagrees with you,\" Faile replied. \"A gateway, please. The hour grows late.\" And if you want to talk about a waste, why not consider how you made me march all the way out of the city and wait, instead of sending me straight from the White Tower grounds?\n\nThe Hall of the Tower wanted a single Traveling ground for large troop or supply movements to keep better control over who entered and left Tar Valon. Faile could not blame them for the precaution, even if it was frustrating sometimes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bureaucracy was bureaucracy, and Berisha finally adopted a look of concentration in preparation for making a gateway. Before she could weave the gateway, however, the ground started to rumble.\n\nNot again, Faile thought with a sigh. Well, there were commonly smaller quakes after an-\n\nA series of sharp black crystal spikes split the ground nearby, jutting upward some tenor fifteen feet. One speared a Redarms horse, splashing blood into the air as the spike went straight through both beast and man.\n\n\"Bubble of evil!\" Harnan called from nearby.\n\nOther crystalline spikes-some thin as a spear, others wide as a person-ripped up through the ground. Faile frantically tried to control her horses. They danced to the side, spinning her cart, nearly toppling it as she pulled on the reins.\n\nAround her, madness ruled. The spikes punched up through the ground in groups, each sharp as a razor. One wagon splintered as crystals destroyed its left side. Foodstuffs spilled to the dead grass. Some horses went wild and other wagons overturned. The crystal spikes continued to rise, appearing allover the empty field. Shouts rose from the nearby village at the end of the bridge from Tar Valon.\n\n\"Gateway!\" Faile screamed, still fighting her horses. \"Do it/\"\n\nBerisha jumped back as spikes jutted out of the ground near her feet. She threw a pale-faced glance at them, and only then did Faile realize that something was moving inside the shadowy crystals. It seemed like smoke.\n\nA crystal spike came up through Berisha's foot. She cried out, kneeling, just as a line of light split the air. Thank the Light, the woman held her weave, and-with what seemed glacial slowness-the line of light rotated and opened a hole large enough fora wagon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Through the gateway!\" Faile shouted, but her voice was lost in the commotion. Crystals burst from the ground very near her left, tossing earth across her face. Her horses danced, then started to gallop. Rather than risking complete loss of control, Faile steered them toward the gateway. Right before they went through, however, she pulled them to a rearing halt.\n\n\"The gateway!\" she shouted at the others. Again her voice was lost. Fortunately, the Redarms took up the call, riding down the disordered line, grabbing the reins of horses and steering wagons toward the gateway. Other men picked up those who had been tossed to the ground.\n\nHarnan thundered past, carrying Olver. He was followed by Sandip with Setalle Anan clinging to him from behind. The frequency of the crystals increased. One jutted up near Faile, and with horror, she realized that the smoky movements inside had form. Figures of men and women, screaming, as if trapped inside.\n\nShe drew back, aghast. Nearby, the last working wagon rattled through the gateway. Soon the field would be nothing but crystals. Some straggling members of the Band helped the wounded onto horses, but two fellas the crystals started budding growths that shot out to the sides. It was time to go. Aravine passed by, grabbing Faile's reins to pull them to safety.\n\n\"Berisha!\" Faile said. The Aes Sedai knelt beside the opening, sweat trickling down her paleface. Faile leaped from her wagon seat, grabbing the womans shoulder as Aravine pulled the wagon through the gateway.\n\n\"Lets move!\" Faile said to Berisha. Til carry you.\"\n\nThe woman teetered, then fell to the side, holding her stomach. Faile realized with a start that blood streamed around the woman's fingers. Berisha stared at the sky, mouth working, but no sounds came out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"My Lady!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mandevwin galloped up. \"I don't care where it leads! We must get through!\"\n\n\"What-\"\n\nShe cutoff as Mandevwin grabbed her by the waist and hauled her up, crystals exploding nearby. He galloped through the opening, holding her.\n\nThe gateway snapped shut a moment later.\n\nFaile panted as Mandevwin let her down. She stared at where the gateway had been.\n\nHis words finally caught up with her. I don't care where it leads... He had seen something she, in her panic over getting everyone to safety, had not.\n\nThe gateway hadn't led to the Field of Merrilor.\n\n\"Where...\" Faile whispered, joining the others, who stared at the horrid landscape. A sweltering heat, plants covered in spots of darkness, ascent of something awful in the air.\n\nThey were in the Blight.\n\nAviendha chewed on her rations, crunchy rolled oats that had been mixed with honey. They tasted good. Being near Rand meant that their food stores had stopped spoiling.\n\nShe reached for her water flask, then hesitated. She'd been drinking a lot of water lately. She rarely stopped to think about its value. Had she already forgotten the lessons she'd learned during her return to the Threefold Land to visit Rhuidean?\n\nLight, she thought, raising the flask to her lips. Who cares? It's the Last Battle!\n\nShe sat on the floor of a large Aiel tent in the valley of Thakan'dar. Melaine chewed on her own rations close by. The woman was near to term now with her twins, her belly bulging beneath her dress and shawl. Much as a Maiden was forbidden to fight while with child, Melaine was forbidden dangerous activity. She had voluntarily gone to work in Berelain's Healing station in Mayene-but she regularly checked on the progress of the battle. Many of the gai'shain had found their way through gateways to help as they"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "could, though all they could do was carry water or soil for the earthen mounds Ituralde had ordered cast up to give the defenders some kind of protection.\n\nA group of Maidens ate nearby, chatting with handtalk. Aviendha could have read it, but didn't. It would only make her wish she could join them. She'd become a Wise One and had forsaken her old life. That didn't mean she had purged herself of every bit of envy. Instead, she wiped out her wooden bowl and stowed it in her pack, stood up and slipped out of the tent.\n\nOutside, the night air was cool. It was about an hour before dawn, and felt almost like the Three-fold Land at night. Aviendha looked up at the mountain that dominated the valley; despite the dark of early morning, she could seethe pit leading inward.\n\nIt had been many days since Rand had entered. Ituralde had wandered back into camp the night before with a tale of being held by wolves and a man who claimed Perrin Aybara had sent him to kidnap the great captain. Ituralde had been taken into custody, and had not complained.\n\nThe Trollocs had not attacked the valley all day. The defenders still had them held in the pass. The Shadow seemed to be waiting for something. The Light send it was not another attack by Myrddraal. The last one had nearly ended the resistance. Aviendha had rallied the channelers once the Eyeless had emerged to kill the humans defending the mouth of the pass; they must have realized that exposing themselves in large numbers was unwise, and they fled back to the safety of the pass once the channeling began.\n\nEither way, she felt grateful for this rare moment of rest and relative peace between attacks. She stared into that pit in the mountain, within which Rand fought. A strong pulse came from deep within it; channeling, in waves, powerful. Several days on the outside, but how long on the inside? A day? Hours? Minutes? Maidens who guarded the path up to the entrance claimed that after four hours of duty, they'd climb down the mountainside and find that eight hours had passed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "We have to hold' Aviendha thought."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We have to fight. Give him as much time as we can.\n\nAt least she knew he still lived. She could sense that. And his pain.\n\nShe looked away.\n\nAs she did, she noticed something. A woman was channeling in the camp. It was faint, but Aviendha frowned. At this hour, with no fighting, the only channeling should have been happening on the Traveling ground, and this was in the wrong direction.\n\nMuttering to herself, she started through the camp. It was probably one of the off-duty Windfinders again. They took turns rotating in and out of the group using the Bowl of the Winds, constantly, to keep the tempest at bay. That task was done atop the northern valley wall, well guarded by a large force of Sea Folk. They had to take gateways up thereto change shifts.\n\nWhen the Windfinders weren't on duty with the Bowl, they camped with the rest of the army. Aviendha had told them time and time again that, while in the valley, they were not allowed to channel for incidental reasons. One would think, after all the years they had spent never letting Aes Sedai see them use their powers, that they could be more self-controlled! If she caught another one of them using the One Power to warm her tea, she'd send her to Sorilea for an education. This was supposed to be a secure camp.\n\nAviendha froze in place. That channeling was not coming from the small ring of tents where the Windfinders made camp.\n\nHad she sensed an incursion? A Dreadlord or Forsaken would probably assume that-in a camp this large filled with Aes Sedai, Windfinders and Wise Ones-no one would notice a tiny bit of channeling here or there. Aviendha immediately crouched beside a nearby tent, avoiding the light of a lantern on a pole. The channeling came again, very faint. She crept forward."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If this turns out to be someone heating water fora bath...\n\nShe moved between tents, across the hard earth. As she drew closer, she took off her boots and left them behind, then pulled her dagger from its sheath. She couldn't risk embracing the Source, lest she reveal herself to her prey.\n\nThe camp didn't truly sleep. Those warriors who were not on duty had trouble slumbering here. Fatigue among the spears, including the Maidens, was becoming a problem. They complained of terrible dreams.\n\nAviendha continued forward silently, slipping between tents, avoiding those that shone with light. This place disturbed all of them, so she was not surprised to hear of bad dreams. How could they sleep in peace so close to the Dark One's abode?\n\nLogically, she knew that the Dark One was not nearby, not really. That wasn't what the Bore was. He didn't live in this place; he existed outside the Pattern, inside his prison. Still, bedding down here was like trying to sleep while a murderer stood beside your bed, holding a knife and contemplating the color of your hair.\n\nThere, she thought, slowing. The channeling stopped, but Aviendha was close. Draghkar attacks and the threat of Myrddraal slipping in at night\n\nhad driven the camp leaders to spread the officers throughout the camp, intents that bore no external sign of which belonged to a commander and which to a common foot soldier. Aviendha, however, knew this tent to belong to Darlin Sisnera.\n\nDarlin had official command of this battlefield, now that Ituralde had fallen. He was not a general, but the Tairen army was the bulk of the defense, with the Defenders of the Stone their elite units. Their commander, Tihera, was good with tactics, and Darlin listened well to the man's suggestions. Tihera was not a great captain, but he was very clever. He, Darlin and Rhuarc had been devising their battle plans following Ituralde's fall..."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the darkness, Aviendha nearly missed the three figures crouched ahead of her, just outside Darlin's tent. They gestured to one another, silent, and she could see little about them-not even their clothing. She raised her knife, and then a bolt of lightning split the sky, giving her a better glimpse of one. The man was wearing a veil. Aiel.\n\nThey noticed the intruder too, she thought, stalking up to them and raising a hand to keep them from attacking. She whispered, \"I felt channeling nearby, and I do not think it is from one of ours. What have you seen?\"\n\nThe three men stared at her, as if stunned, though she couldn't make out much of their faces.\n\nThen they attacked her.\n\nAviendha cursed, leaping backward as their spears came out and one threw a knife in her direction. Aiel Darkfriends? She felt a fool. She should have known better.\n\nShe reached out to embrace the Source. If a female Dread lord was nearby, she'd feel what Aviendha did, but there was no help for it. She needed to survive these three.\n\nHowever, as Aviendha reached for the One Power, something snapped into place between her and the Source. A shield, with weaves she could not see.\n\nOne of these men could channel. Aviendha's reaction was instinctive. She shoved down her panic, stopped scrambling to touch the Source and threw herself at the nearest of the men. She caught his spear-thrust with her offhand-ignoring the pain as the spearhead sliced against her ribs-and hauled him forward to ram her knife in his neck.\n\nOne of the other two cursed, and Aviendha suddenly found herself wrapped in weaves of Air, unable to speak or move. Blood soaked into her blouse and pooled against her wounded side. The man she'd struck gasped and thrashed on the ground as he died. The other two did not move to help him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One of the Darkfriends stepped forward, lithe, almost invisible in the darkness. He pulled her face close to inspect her, then waved his hand to the other. Avery soft light appeared beside them, giving them a better look at her-and her at them. They wore red veils, but this one had taken his down for the fight. Why? What was this? No Aiel she knew did that. Were these the Shaido? Had they joined the Shadow?\n\nOne of the men made a few gestures to the other. It was handtalk. Not Maiden handtalk, but something similar. The other man nodded.\n\nAviendha thrashed against her invisible bonds. She slammed her will against that shield, biting down on her gag of Air. The Aiel on the right-the taller one, the one who probably held her shield-grunted. She felt as if her fingers were clawing at the edge of a nearly shut door, with light, warmth and power beyond. That door wouldn't budge an inch.\n\nThe tall Aiel narrowed his eyes at her. He let the light he'd summoned vanish, plunging them into darkness. Aviendha heard him takeout a spear.\n\nAfoot fell on the ground nearby. The red-veils heard it and spun; Aviendha looked as best she could, but couldn't make out the newcomer.\n\nThe men stood perfectly still.\n\n\"What is this?\" a woman's voice asked. Cadsuane. She approached, a lantern in her hand. Aviendha was jerked away as the man holding her weaves pulled her back into the shadows, and Cadsuane did not seem aware of her. Cadsuane saw only the other man, who stood closer to the pathway.\n\nThat Aiel man stepped from the shadows. He'd lowered his veil, too. \"I thought I heard something near the tents here, Aes Sedai,\" he said. He had a strange accent, one that was slightly off. Only by a shade. A wetlander would never know the difference."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "These aren't Aiel, Aviendha thought. They're something different. Her mind wrestled with the concept. Aiel who were not Aiel? Men who could channel?\n\nThe men we send, she realized with horror. Men discovered among the Aiel with the ability to channel were sent to try to kill the Dark One. Alone, they came to the Blight. Nobody knew what happened to them after that.\n\nAviendha began to struggle again, trying to make noise-any noise-to alert Cadsuane. The attempts were in vain. She hung tightly in the air, in the darkness, and Cadsuane wasn't looking in her direction.\n\n\"Well, did you find anything?\" Cadsuane asked the man.\n\n\"No, Aes Sedai.\"\n\n\"I will speak to the guards,\" Cadsuane said, sounding dissatisfied. \"We must be vigilant. If a Draghkar-or, worse, a Myrddraal-managed to sneak in, it could kill dozens before being discovered.\"\n\nCadsuane turned to go. Aviendha shook her head, tears of frustration in her eyes. So close!\n\nThe red-veil who had been with Cadsuane stepped back into the shadows, going up to Aviendha. Ina flash of lightning, she caught a smile on his lips, mimicked by the one who still held her in the bonds.\n\nThe red-veil in front of her slid a dagger from his belt, then reached up for her. She watched that knife, helpless, as he raised it to her throat.\n\nShe sensed channeling.\n\nThe bonds holding her were gone instantly, and she dropped to the ground. Aviendha caught the man's knife hand as she fell, his eyes opening wide. Though she embraced the Source by raw, mad instinct, her hands were already moving. She twisted the man's wrist, snapping the bones where hand met arm. She caught the knife with her other hand, then slammed it into his eye as he started to scream in pain."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The scream cutoff. The red-veil fell at her feet, and she looked with anxiety toward the one beside her-the one who had been holding her in weaves. He lay dead on the ground.\n\nGasping, she scrambled toward the path nearby, and found Cadsuane.\n\n\"It is a simple thing, to stop a man's heart,\" Cadsuane said, arms folded. She seemed dissatisfied. \"So close to Healing, yet opposite in effect. Perhaps it is an evil thing, yet I've always failed to see how it would be worse than simply burning a man to ash with fire.\"\n\n\"How?\" Aviendha asked. \"How did you recognize what they were?\"\n\n\"I am not a half-trained wilder,\" Cadsuane replied. \"I would have liked to strike them down when I first arrived, but I had to be certain before I could act. When that one threatened you with the knife, I knew.\"\n\nAviendha breathed in and out, trying to still her heart.\n\n\"And, of course, there was the other one,\" Cadsuane said. \"The one that channeled. How many male Aiel warriors can secretly channel? Was this an anomaly, or have your people been covering them up?\"\n\n\"What? No! We don't. Or, we didn't.\" Aviendha wasn't certain what they would do now that the Source had been cleansed. Men, certainly, should stop being sent alone to die fighting the Dark One.\n\n\"You're certain?\" Cadsuane asked, voice flat.\n\n\"Yes!\"\n\n\"Pity. That could have been a large boon to us, now.\" Cadsuane shook her head. \"I wouldn't have been surprised, after finding out about those Windfinders. So these were just run-of-the-mill Darkfriends, with one among them who had hidden his channeling ability? What were they about tonight?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"These are anything but ordinary Darkfriends,\" Aviendha said softly, inspecting the corpses. Red veils. The man who had been able to channel wore his teeth filed to points, but the other two did not. What did it mean?\n\n\"We need to alert the camp,\" Aviendha continued. \"It's possible that these three merely walked in, unchallenged. Many of the wetlander guards avoid challenging Aiel. They assume that all of us serve the Car'a'carn.\"\n\nTo many wetlanders, an Aiel was an Aiel. Fools. Though... to be honest, Aviendha had to admit that her own first instinct upon seeing Aiel had been to think them allies. When had that happened? Not two years back, if she'd caught unfamiliar algai'd\"siswai prowling about, she'd have attacked.\n\nAviendha continued her inspection of the dead men-a knife on each man, spears and bows. Nothing else telling. However, her thoughts whispered to her that she was missing something.\n\n\"The female channeler,\" she said suddenly, looking up. \"It was a woman using the One Power that drew me, Aes Sedai. Was that you?\"\n\n\"I did not channel until I killed that man,\" Cadsuane said, frowning.\n\nAviendha dropped back into a battle stance, hugging the shadows. What would she find next? Wise Ones who served the Shadow? Cadsuane frowned, as Aviendha scouted the area further. She passed Darlin's tent, where soldiers outside huddled around lamps and cast shadows that danced on the canvas. She passed soldiers in tight groups walking along the pathways, not speaking. They carried torches, blinding their eyes to the night."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aviendha had heard Tairen officers remark that it was nice, for once, to have no worry about their sentries dozing on duty. With the lightning, the Trolloc drums in the near distance, the occasional raids by Shadowspawn trying to slip into camp... soldiers knew to be wary. The frosted air smelled of smoke, with putrid scents blowing in from the Trolloc camps.\n\nShe eventually gave up the hunt and walked back the way she had come, finding Cadsuane speaking with a group of soldiers. Aviendha was about to approach when her eyes passed over a patch of darkness nearby, and her senses came alert. That patch of darkness is channeling.\n\nAviendha began weaving a shield immediately. The one in the darkness wove Fire and Air toward Cadsuane. Aviendha dropped her weave and instead lashed outwith Spirit, slicing the enemy weave just as it was released.\n\nAviendha heard a curse, and a quick weave of fire blossomed in her direction. Aviendha ducked as it lashed overhead, hissing in the cold air. The wave of heat passed. Her enemy ducked out of the shadows-whatever weave she'd been using to hide had collapsed-revealing the woman Aviendha had fought before. The one with the face almost as ugly as a Trollocs.\n\nThe woman dashed behind a group of tents just before the ground ripped up behind her-a weave that Aviendha hadn't made. A second later, the woman folded again, as she had before. Vanishing.\n\nAviendha stood warily. She turned toward Cadsuane, who walked up to her. \"Thank you,\" the woman said, grudgingly. \"For disrupting that weave.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I suppose we are even, then,\" Aviendha said.\n\n\"Even? No, not by several hundred years, child. I will admit that I am thankful for your intervention.\" She frowned. \"She vanished.\"\n\n\"She did that before.\"\n\n\"A method of Traveling we do not know,\" Cadsuane said, looking troubled. \"I saw no flows for it. Perhaps a ter'angreal? It-\"\n\nA shot of red light rose from the front lines of the army. The Trollocs were attacking. At the same time, Aviendha felt channeling indifferent spots around the camp. One, two, three... She spun about, trying to locate each of the locations. She counted five.\n\n\"Channelers,\" Cadsuane said sharply. \"Dozens of them.\"\n\n\"Dozens? I sense five.\"\n\n\"Most are men, fool child,\" Cadsuane said, waving a hand. \"Go, gather the others!\"\n\nAviendha dashed away, yelling the alarm. She would have words with Cadsuane later for ordering her about. Maybe. \"Having words\" with Cadsuane often left one feeling like a complete fool. Aviendha ran into the Aiel section of camp in time to see Amys and Sorilea pulling on their shawls, checking the sky. Flinn stumbled out of a nearby tent, blinking bleary eyes. \"Men?\" he said. \"Channeling? Have more Asha'man arrived?\"\n\n\"Unlikely,\" Aviendha said. \"Amys, Sorilea, I need a circle.\"\n\nThey raised eyebrows at her. She might be one of them now, and she might have command by the Car'a\"carris authority, but reminding Sorilea of that would end with Aviendha buried to her neck in sand. \"If you please,\" she added quickly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is your say, Aviendha,\" Sorilea said. \"I will go and speak with the others and send them to you, so you may have your circle. We will make two, I think, as you have suggested before. That would be for the best.\"\n\nStubborn as Cadsuane, that one is, Aviendha thought. The two of them could teach lessons on patience to trees. Still, Sorilea was not strong in the Power-in fact, she could barely channel-so it would be wise to use others as she suggested.\n\nSorilea began calling for the other Wise Ones and Aes Sedai. Aviendha suffered the delay with anxiety; already, she could hear screams and explosions in the valley. Streams of fire arced into the air, then dropped.\n\n\"Sorilea,\" Aviendha said softly to the elder Wise One as the women began to build the circles, \"I was attacked in camp just now by three Aiel men. The battle we are about to fight, it will probably involve other Aiel who fight for the Shadow.\"\n\nSorilea turned sharply, meeting Aviendha's eyes. \"Explain.\"\n\n\"I think they must be the men we sent to kill Sightblinder,\" Aviendha said.\n\nSorilea hissed softly. \"If this is true, child, then this night will mark great toh for us all. Toh toward the Car'a\"cam, toh toward the land itself.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"Bring me word,\" Sorilea said. \"I will organize a third circle; maybe make some of those off-duty Windfinders join in.\"\n\nAviendha nodded, then accepted control of the circle as it was handed to her. She had three Aes Sedai who had sworn to Rand and two Wise Ones. By her order, Flinn did not join the circle. She wanted him to be on the watch for signs of men channeling, ready to point the direction, and being in a circle might make that impossible for him to do."
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "They moved off like a squad of spear-sisters. They passed clusters of Tairen Defenders pulling on burnished breastplates over uniforms with wide striped sleeves. In one group, she found King Darlin bellowing orders. \"A moment,\" she said to the others, hastening to the Tairen.\n\n\"... them all!\" Darlin said to his commanders. \"Don't let the front lines weaken! We can't let those monsters spill into the valley!\" It appeared that he'd been awakened from sleep by the attack, for he stood dressed only in trousers and a white undershirt. A disheveled serving man held out Dar-lin's coat, but the King, distracted by a messenger, turned away.\n\nWhen Darlin saw Aviendha, he waved her forward urgently. The serving man heaved a sigh, lowering the coat.\n\n\"I'd given upon them attacking tonight,\" Darlin said, then glanced at the sky. \"Or, well, this morning. The scout reports are so confused, I feel like I've been thrown into a coop full of crazed chickens and told to catch the one with a single black feather.\"\n\n\"Those reports,\" Aviendha said, \"do they mention Aiel men, fighting for the Shadow? Possibly channeling?\"\n\nDarlin turned sharply. \"It's true?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And the Trollocs are pushing with everything they have to force their way into the valley,\" Darlin said. \"If those Aiel Dreadlords start attacking our troops, we wont stand a chance without you lot being thereto hold them off.\"\n\n\"We're moving,\" Aviendha said. \"Send for Amys and Cadsuane to make gateways. But I warn you. I caught a Dreadlord sneaking around near your tent. .\""
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Darlin paled. \"Like Ituralde... Light, they didn't touch me. I swear it. I...\" He raised a hand to his head. \"Who do we trust if we cannot trust our own minds?\"\n\n\"We must make the dance of spears as simple as possible,\" Aviendha said. Go to Rhuarc, gather your leaders. Plan how you will face the Shadow together, do not let one man control the battle-and set your plans in place; do not allow them to be changed.\"\n\n\"That could lead to disaster,\" Darlin said. \"If we don't have flexibility...\" \"What needs be changed?\" Aviendha asked grimly. \"We hold. With everything we have, we hold. We don't pullback. We don't try anything clever. We just hold\"\n\nDarlin nodded. \"I'll send for gateways to put Maidens atop those slopes. They can takeout those Trollocs shooting arrows down at our lads. Can you deal with the enemy channelers?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nAviendha returned to her group, then started to draw on their power. The more of the One Power you held, the harder it was to cut you off from the True Source. She intended to hold so much that no man could separate her from it.\n\nHelplessness. She hated feeling helpless. She let the anger at what had been done to her rage inside of her, and led her group toward the nearest source of male channeling that Flinn could identify.\n\nCHAPTER\n\nDrifting\n\nRand stood in a place that was not.\n\nA place outside of time, outside of the Pattern itself.\n\nAll around him spread avast nothingness. Voracious and hungry, it longed to consume. He could actually seethe Pattern. It looked like thousands upon thousands of twisting ribbons of light; they spun around him, above him, undulating and shimmering, twisting together. At least, that was how his mind chose to interpret it."
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"value": "Everything that had ever been, everything that could be, everything that could have been... it all lay right there, before him.\n\nRand could not comprehend it. The blackness around it sucked on him, pulled him toward it. He reached out to the Pattern and somehow anchored himself in it, lest he be consumed.\n\nThat changed his focus. It locked him, slightly, into a time. The pattern before him rippled, and Rand watched it being woven. It was not actually the Pattern, he knew, but his mind saw it that way. Familiar, as it had been described, the threads of lives weaving together.\n\nRand anchored himself in reality again and moved with it. Time had meaning again, and he could not see ahead or behind. He still could see all places, like a man standing above a globe as it turned.\n\nRand faced the emptiness. \"So,\" he said into it. \"This is where it will really happen. Moridin would have had me believe that a simple sword fight would decide this all.\"\n\nHE IS OF ME. BUT HIS EYES ARE SMALL.\n\n\"Yes,\" Rand said. \"I have noticed the same.\"\n\nSMALL TOOLS CAN BE EFFECTIVE. THE THINNEST OF KNIVES CAN STOP A HEART. HE HAS BROUGHT YOU HERE, ADVERSARY.\n\nNone of this had happened the last time, when Rand had worn the name of Lews Therin. He could only interpret that as a good sign.\n\nNow the battle truly began. He looked into the nothingness and felt it welling up. Then, like a sudden storm, the Dark One brought all of his force against Rand.\n\nPerrin fell back against a tree, gasping at the pain. Slayers arrow had impaled his shoulder, the arrowhead coming out his back. He didn't dare pull it free, not with..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He wavered."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Thoughts came lethargically. Where was he? He'd shifted away from Slayer as far as he could go, but... he didn't recognize this place. The trees were odd-shaped on top, too leafy, of a variety he'd never before seen. The storm blew here, but far more weakly.\n\nPerrin slipped and hit the ground with a grunt. His shoulder flared with pain. He rolled over, staring up at the sky. He'd broken the arrow when falling.\n\nIt's... it's the wolf dream. I can just make the arrow vanish.\n\nHe tried to gather the strength to do so, but was too weak. He found himself floating, and he sent outward, seeking for wolves. He found the minds of some, and they started, sending back surprise.\n\nA two-legs who can talk? What is this? What are you?\n\nHis nature seemed to frighten them, and they pushed him out of their minds. How could they not know what he was? Wolves had long, long memories. Surely... surely...\n\nFaile, he thought. So beautiful, so clever. I should go to her. I just need to... need to close this Waygate... and I can get back to the Two Rivers to her...\n\nPerrin rolled over and crawled to his knees. Was that his blood on the ground? So much red. He blinked at it.\n\n\"Here you are,\" a voice said.\n\nLanfear. He looked up at her, his vision blurry.\n\n\"So he defeated you,\" she said, folding her arms. \"Disappointing. I didn't want to have to choose that one. I find you much more appealing, wolf.\"\n\n\"Please,\" he croaked."
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"value": "\"I'm tempted, though I shouldn't be,\" she said. \"You've proven yourself weak.\"\n\n\"I... I can beat him.\" Suddenly, the shame of having failed in front of her crushed Perrin. When had he started worrying about what Lanfear thought of him? He couldn't quite point to it.\n\nShe tapped one finger on her arm.\n\n\"Please...\" Perrin said, raising a hand. \"Please.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, turning away. \"I've learned the mistake of setting my heart on one who does not deserve it. Goodbye, wolf pup.\"\n\nShe vanished, leaving Perrin on hands and knees in this strange place.\n\nFaile, apiece of his mind said. Don't worry about Lanfear. You have to go to Faile.\n\nYes... Yes, he could go to her, couldn't he? Where was she? The Field of Merrilor. That was where he'd left her. It was where she would be. He shifted there, somehow gathering himself just enough to manage it. But of course she wasn't there. He was in the wolf dream.\n\nThe portal Rand would send. It would be here. He just had to get to it. He needed... He needed...\n\nHe collapsed to the ground and rolled to his back. He felt himself drifting into the nothingness. His vision blackened as he stared up at the churning sky. At least... at least I was therefor Rand, Perrin thought.\n\nThe wolves could hold Shayol Ghul on this side now, couldn't they? They could keep Rand safe... They'd have to.\n\nFaile poked a stick at their meager cook fire. Darkness had fallen, and the fire glowed with a faint red light. They hadn't dared make it larger. Deadly things prowled the Blight. Trollocs were the least of the dangers here."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "The air here smelled pungent, and Faile expected to find a rotting corpse behind every black-speckled shrub. The ground cracked when she stepped, dry earth crushing beneath her boots, as if rain had not been seen in centuries. As she satin the camp, she saw a group of sickly green lights-like glowing insects in a swarm-passing in the distance, over a stand of silhouetted trees. She knew enough of the Blight to hold her breath until they passed. She did not know what they were, and did not want to know.\n\nShe had led her group on a short hike to find this place fora camp. Along the way, one caravan worker had been killed by a twig, another by stepping in what looked like mud-but it had dissolved his leg. He'd gotten some of it on his face. He had thrashed and screamed as he died.\n\nThey'd had to forcibly gag him to keep the sounds from bringing other horrors.\n\nThe Blight. They couldn't survive up here. A simple walk had killed two of their members, and Faile had some hundred people to try to protect. Guards from the Band, some members of Cha Faile and the wagon drivers and workers from her supply caravan. Eight of the wagons still worked, and they'd brought those to this camp, for now. They would probably be too conspicuous to take farther.\n\nShe wasn't even certain they would survive this night. Light! Their only chance of rescue seemed to lie with the Aes Sedai. Would they notice what had happened and send help? It seemed a very faint hope, but she did not know about the One Power.\n\n\"All right,\" Faile said softly to those who sat with her-Mandevwin, Aravine, Harnan, Setalle and Arrela of Cha Faile. \"Let's talk.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The others looked hollow."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Probably, like Faile, they had been frightened with stories of the Blight since childhood. The quick deaths in their party soon after entering this land had reinforced that. They knew how dangerous this place was. They kept jumping at every sound in the night.\n\n\"I will explain what I can,\" Faile said, trying to divert them from the death all around. \"During the bubble of evil, one of those crystals speared Berisha Sedai's foot right as she made the gateway.\"\n\n\"A wound?\" Mandevwin asked from his place beside the fire. \"Would that have been enough to make the gateway go awry? Truly, I know little of Aes Sedai business, nor have I wanted to. If one is distracted, is it possible to create an accidental opening to the wrong place?\"\n\nSetalle frowned, and the expression drew Faile's attention. Setalle was neither nobility nor an officer. There was something about the woman, however... she projected authority and wisdom.\n\n\"You know something?\" Faile asked her.\n\nSetalle cleared her throat. \"I know... some little about channeling. It was once an area of curiosity tome. Sometimes, if a weave is done incorrectly, it simply does nothing. Other times, the result is disastrous. I have not heard of a weave doing something like this, working but in the wrong way.\" \"Well,\" Harnan said, watching that darkness and shivering visibly, \"the alternative is to think that she wanted to send us to the Blight.\"\n\n\"Perhaps she was disoriented,\" Faile said. \"The pressure of the moment made her send us to the wrong place. I've been turned about before in a moment of tension and found myself running in the wrong direction. It could be like that.\""
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"value": "The others nodded, but again, Setalle looked concerned.\n\n\"What is it?\" Faile prodded.\n\n\"Aes Sedai training is very extensive in relation to this type of situation,\" Setalle said. \"No woman reaches the level of Aes Sedai without learning how to channel under extreme pressure. There are specific... barriers a woman must clear in order to wear the ring.\"\n\nSo, Faile thought, Setalle must have a relative who is Aes Sedai. Someone close, if they shared information so private. A sister, perhaps?\n\n\"Then do we assume that this is some kind of trap?\" Aravine sounded confused. \"That Berisha was some kind of Darkfriend? Surely the Shadow has greater things to misdirect than a simple supply train.\"\n\nFaile said nothing. The Horn was safe; the chest it was in now satin her small tent nearby. They had circled the wagons, and had allowed only this one fire. The rest of the caravan slept, or tried to.\n\nThe still, too-silent air made Faile feel as if they were being watched by a thousand eyes. If the Shadow had planned a trap for her caravan, it meant the Shadow knew about the Horn. In that case, they were in very serious danger. More serious, even, than being in the Blight itself.\n\n\"No,\" Setalle said. \"No, Aravine is right. This could not have been an intentional trap. If the bubble of evil hadn't come, we would never have burst through the opening without looking where it led. So far as we know, these bubbles are completely random.\"\n\nUnless Berisha was simply taking advantage of the circumstances, Faile thought. Also, there was the woman's death. That wound in her stomach had not looked like one caused by the spikes. It had looked like a knife wound. As if someone had attacked Berisha once the Horn was through the gateway. To keep her from telling what she'd done?"
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 6"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The others nodded, but again, Setalle looked concerned.\n\n\"What is it?\" Faile prodded.\n\n\"Aes Sedai training is very extensive in relation to this type of situation,\" Setalle said. \"No woman reaches the level of Aes Sedai without learning how to channel under extreme pressure. There are specific... barriers a woman must clear in order to wear the ring.\"\n\nSo, Faile thought, Setalle must have a relative who is Aes Sedai. Someone close, if they shared information so private. A sister, perhaps?\n\n\"Then do we assume that this is some kind of trap?\" Aravine sounded confused. \"That Berisha was some kind of Darkfriend? Surely the Shadow has greater things to misdirect than a simple supply train.\"\n\nFaile said nothing. The Horn was safe; the chest it was in now satin her small tent nearby. They had circled the wagons, and had allowed only this one fire. The rest of the caravan slept, or tried to.\n\nThe still, too-silent air made Faile feel as if they were being watched by a thousand eyes. If the Shadow had planned a trap for her caravan, it meant the Shadow knew about the Horn. In that case, they were in very serious danger. More serious, even, than being in the Blight itself.\n\n\"No,\" Setalle said. \"No, Aravine is right. This could not have been an intentional trap. If the bubble of evil hadn't come, we would never have burst through the opening without looking where it led. So far as we know, these bubbles are completely random.\"\n\nUnless Berisha was simply taking advantage of the circumstances, Faile thought. Also, there was the woman's death. That wound in her stomach had not looked like one caused by the spikes. It had looked like a knife wound. As if someone had attacked Berisha once the Horn was through the gateway. To keep her from telling what she'd done?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Light, Faile thought. I am growing suspicious.\n\n\"So,\" Harnan said, \"what do we do?\"\n\n\"That depends,\" Faile said, looking toward Setalle. \"Is there anyway an Aes Sedai could tell where we'd been sent?\"\n\nSetalle hesitated, as if reluctant to reveal how much she knew. When she continued, however, she spoke with confidence. \"Weaves leave behind a residue. So yes, an Aes Sedai could discover where we'd gone. The residue does not last long, however: a few days at most, fora powerful weave. And not all channelers can read residues-this is a rare talent.\"\n\nThe way she spoke, so commanding and authoritative... the way she projected an immediate sense of being trustworthy. It wasn't a relative, then, Faile thought. This woman trained in the White Tower. Was she, perhaps, like Queen Morgase? Too weak in the One Power to become Aes Sedai?\n\n\"We will wait one day,\" Faile said. \"If nobody has come for us by then, we will head south and try to escape the Blight as quickly as possible.\"\n\n\"I wonder how far north we are,\" Flarnan said, rubbing his chin. \"I don't fancy going over mountains to get back home.\"\n\n\"You'd rather remain in the Blight?\" Mandevwin asked.\n\n\"Well, no,\" Harnan said. \"But it could take months to walk back to safety. Months traveling through the Blight itself. .\"\n\nLight, Faile thought. Traveling months in a place where we're lucky to have lost only two in one day. They'd never make it. Even without the wagons, the caravan would standout in this landscape like afresh wound on diseased skin. They'd be lucky to last another day or two."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She resisted the urge to glance back at the tent."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What would happen if she didn't bring it to Mat in time?\n\n\"There is another option,\" Setalle said hesitantly.\n\nFaile looked to her.\n\n\"That peak you see to the east of us,\" Setalle said, speaking with obvious reluctance. \"That is Shayol Ghul.\"\n\nMandevwin whispered something quietly that Faile didn't catch, squeezing his eyes shut. The others looked sick. Faile, however, caught Setalle's implication.\n\n\"That is where the Dragon Reborn is making war against the Shadow,\" Faile said. \"One of our armies will be there. With channelers who could get us out.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" Setalle said. \"And the area just around Shayol Ghul is known as the Blasted Lands, lands that the horrors of the Blight are said to avoid.\" \"Because it's so terrible!\" Arrela said. \"If they don't go there, it's because they fear the Dark One himself!\"\n\n\"The Dark One and his armies might have their attention on the fighting,\" Faile said slowly, nodding her head. \"We can't survive long in the Blight-we'll be dead before the week is out. But if the Blasted Lands are free of those horrors, and if we can reach our armies there...\"\n\nIt seemed afar better hope-slim though it was-than trying to march for months in the most dangerous place in the world. She told the others she'd consider what to do and dismissed them.\n\nHer advisors moved off to make their bedrolls, Mandevwin going to check the men on watch. Faile remained staring at the embers of the fire, feeling sick.\n\nSomeone did kill Berisha, she thought. I'm certain of it. The gateway's location really could have been an accident. Accidents happened, even to Aes Sedai, no matter what Setalle thought. But if there was a Darkfriend in the"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "caravan, one who had ducked through the opening and seen that it went to the Blight, they could have easily decided to kill Berisha in order to leave the Horn and the caravan stranded.\n\n\"Setalle,\" Faile said as the woman passed, \"a word.\"\n\nSetalle sat down beside Faile, wearing a composed expression. \"I know what you're going to ask.\"\n\n\"How long has it been,\" Faile asked, \"since you were in the White Tower?\"\n\n\"It has been decades now.\"\n\n\"Are you capable of making a gateway?\"\n\nSetalle laughed. \"Child, I couldn't light a candle. I was burned out in an accident. I haven't held the One Power in over twenty-five years.\"\n\n\"I see,\" Faile said. \"Thank you.\"\n\nSetalle moved off, and Faile found herself wondering. How truthful washer story? Setalle had been very helpful in their days together, and Faile couldn't blame the woman for keeping secret her ties to the White Tower. In any other situation, Faile wouldn't have given the woman's story a moment of doubt.\n\nHowever, there was noway out hereto confirm what she said. If Setalle was Black Ajah in hiding, her story about being burned out could simply be that-a story. Perhaps she could still channel. Or perhaps she couldn't, but had been stilled as a punishment. Could this woman bean escaped prisoner of the most dangerous type, an agent who had waited decades for the right moment to strike?\n\nSetalle had been the one to suggest they go to Shayol Ghul. Was she seeking to bring the Horn to her master?\n\nFeeling cold, Faile entered her tent as several members of Cha Faile setup watch around it. Faile wrapped herself in her bedroll. She knew that she was being overly suspicious. But how else was she to be, considering the circumstances?"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Light, she thought. The Horn of Valere, lost in the Blight. A nightmare.\n\nAviendha knelt on one knee beside the smoldering corpse, holding her angreal-the turtle brooch that Elayne had given her. She breathed through her mouth as she gazed down on the man's face.\n\nThere were a surprising number of these red-veils. Whatever their origins, they were not Aiel. They did not follow ji'e\"toh. During the night's fighting, she had seen two Maidens take a man captive. He had acted like gai'shain, but had then killed one from behind with a hidden knife.\n\n\"Well?\" Sarene asked, breathless. While those at the Field of Merrilor rested and prepared for their challenge ahead, this battle at Shayol Ghul continued. The red-veil attack had lasted all through the night, the following day and now into the night again.\n\n\"I think I knew him,\" Aviendha said, disturbed. \"Fie channeled for the first time when I was a child, making algode grow when it should not.\" She let the veil fall down on his face. \"His name was Soro. He was kind tome. I watched him run across the dry ground at sunset after vowing to spit in Sightblinder's eye.\"\n\n\"Im sorry,\" Sarene said, though her voice was uncolored by any sympathy. Aviendha was growing accustomed to that in the woman. It wasn't that Sarene didn't care; she just didn't let caring distract her. At least, not when her Warder was elsewhere. The Aes Sedai would have made a fine Maiden.\n\n\"Let's keep moving,\" Aviendha said, taking off with her pack of channelers. During the days and nights of fighting, Aviendha's team had shifted, melded and split as women needed rest. Aviendha herself had slept sometime during the day."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "By common agreement, the one leading the circle avoided drawing on her own power-thus Aviendha was still at reasonable strength, despite so many hours of fighting. This allowed her to remain alert, on the hunt. The other women became wells of power to be drawn upon.\n\nShe had to be careful not to drain them too far. Tire a woman, and she could sleep fora few hours and be backup to fight again. Drain her completely, and she could be useless for days. At the moment, Aviendha had Flinn and three Aes Sedai with her. She had learned the weave to tell her when a man was channeling nearby-it was moving through the Aes Sedai and Wise Ones-but having a male channeler with her was far more useful.\n\nFlinn pointed toward some flashes of fire on the side of the valley. They loped in that direction, passing corpses and places where the ground smoldered. With the growing light of dawn, Aviendha could see through the cold mist that Darlin's forces still held the mouth of the valley.\n\nThe Trollocs had pushed forward to the low earthen mounds that Ituralde had built. Killing had been done thereon both sides. The Trollocs had taken far more losses-but then, they were also far more numerous. It seemed from her quick glance that they had overrun one of the earthen bulwarks, but Domani riders had come in from the reserves and were pushing them back.\n\nBands of Aiel roved and fought in the mouth of the valley itself. Some with red veils, some with black. Too many, Aviendha thought, as she slowed her team with a raised hand. She then continued forward on her own, quietly. She could draw a few hundred paces away from the women and still have access to their power."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She picked her way through the barren rocky fields of the valley."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There were three dead bodies to her right, two with black veils. She tested them with a quick Delving; she would not be caught by the old trick of hiding among the corpses. She had used that one herself.\n\nThese three were truly dead, so she continued on in a crouch. In addition to the place where the Tairens and Domani held the Trollocs back, they had a second force guarding their camp and the pathway up to where Rand fought. In the space between, Aiel and red-veils roved in bands, each trying to best the other. Only, some of the red-veils could channel.\n\nThe ground thumped and shook nearby. A spray of soil fell through the air. Aviendha crouched down lower, but quickened her pace.\n\nAhead, over a dozen siswai'aman were rushing the position of two red-veils, both channelers. The red-veils cast up the earth beneath the attackers, sending bodies flying.\n\nAviendha understood why the Aiel kept going. These red-veils were an affront, a crime. The Seanchan, who would dare take Wise Ones captive, were not as disgusting as these. Somehow, the Shadow had taken the bravest of the Aiel and made them into these... these things.\n\nAviendha struck quickly, pulling strength through her angreal and her circle, weaving two lines of fire and hurling them at the red-veils. She began new weaves immediately, casting up the ground beneath the two channelers, and started a third set of weaves. She threw fire at the red-veils as they stumbled; one jumped away as the other was caught in her earthen blasts.\n\nShe struck the one who had fled with spears of flame. Then she hit both corpses with an extra burst of power, just to make certain. These men no longer held to ji'e\"toh. They were no longer alive. They were weeds to be pulled."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She moved forward to check on the siswai'aman. Eight still lived, three of them wounded. Aviendha was not particularly good with Healing, but she was able to save the life of one man, keeping a wound in his throat from bleeding out. The other survivors gathered the wounded and moved back toward the camp.\n\nAviendha stood above the two corpses. She decided not to look at them closely. Seeing one man she had known was bad enough. These-\n\nA shock went through her, and one of her wells of power vanished. Aviendha gasped. Another one winked out.\n\nShe immediately released the circle, then dashed back to where she had left the women. Flashes and explosions shook her. Aviendha clung to the\n\nOne Power, her own strength now seeming pitifully small compared to what she'd been using.\n\nShe stumbled to a halt before the smoldering corpses of Kiruna and Faeldrin. The hideous woman she had seen before-the woman that Aviendha was increasingly certain was one of the Forsaken-stood there smiling at her. The horrid woman had her hand on Sarene's shoulder; the slender White stood with her head turned toward the Forsaken, staring at her with vapid, adoring eyes. Sarene's Warder lay dead at her feet.\n\nBoth vanished, twisting upon themselves, Traveling without use of a gateway. Aviendha fell to her knees beside the dead. Nearby, Damer Flinn groaned and tried to pull himself free of the cast-up earth. His left arm was completely gone, burned away at the shoulder.\n\nAviendha cursed and did what she could to Heal him, though he slipped into unconsciousness. She suddenly felt very tired and very, very alone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A Practiced Grin\n\nOlver missed Wind. Bela-the stout, shaggy mare he now rode-wasn't bad, really. She was just slow. Olver knew this because he kept trying to nudge her forward, but she continued plodding along behind the other horses. Nothing he did could make her go any faster. Olver wanted to ride like a storm. Instead, he rode like a sturdy login a placid river.\n\nCHAPTER\n\nHe wiped his brow. The Blight was pretty scary, and the others-most of them didn't have horses-walked as if each step was going to bring a thousand Trollocs down on them. The rest of the caravan spoke in hushed voices, and they looked at the hillsides with suspicion.\n\nThey passed a group of withered trees, with sap leaking from open sores in the bark. That sap looked too red. Almost like blood. Nearby, one of the caravan drivers stepped up to inspect it.\n\nVines snapped down from the limbs above-vines that looked brown and dead, yet moved like snakes. Before Olver could scream, the caravan driver was hanging, dead, from the upper branches of the tree.\n\nThe entire line of people froze in place, horrified. Above, the tree actually pulled the dead man into itself through a split in the bark. Ingesting him. Maybe that sap was blood.\n\nOlver looked on, horrified.\n\n\"Steady,\" Lady Faile said, a slight tremor in her voice. \"I've told you, don't draw close to plants! Don't touch anything.\"\n\nThey moved on, a solemn bunch. Sandip, riding nearby, muttered to himself. \"That's the fifteenth one. Fifteen men, dead in a few days. Light! We're never going to survive this!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "If only it were Trollocs!"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Olver couldn't fight trees and insects. Who could? But Trollocs, those he'd be able to fight. Olver had his knife, and he'd learned a few things about using it from Harnan and Silvic. Olver wasn't that tall, but he figured that would make Trollocs underestimate him. He could lunge low and go for their vitals before they knew what was happening.\n\nHe told himself this to keep his hands from shaking as he kicked Bela, hoping to move up by Lady Faile. In the distance, he heard a screeching sound, like something dying in a horrible way. Olver shivered. He'd heard that same sound earlier in the day. Did it sound closer now?\n\nSetalle gave him a worried glance as he neared the front. The others tried everything they could to keep him from danger. He steeled himself, ignoring that horrid screeching off in the distance. Everyone thought Olver was fragile, but he wasn't. They hadn't seen what he had, growing up. In truth, he didn't like thinking about those times. It seemed as if he'd lived three lives. One before his parents died, one when he'd been alone and now this one.\n\nAnyway, he was used to fighting people bigger than he was. It was the Last Battle. They kept saying everyone would be needed. Well, why not him? When the Trollocs came, the first thing he'd do was climb down off this slow mount. He could stroll faster than this animal could gallop! Well, the Aiel didn't need horses. Olver hadn't gone to train with them yet, but he would. He had it planned out. He hated all Aiel, but mostly the Shaido, and he would need to learn their secrets if he was going to kill them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He'd go among them and demand to be trained. They'd take him in, and would treat him poorly, but eventually they'd respect him and let him train with their warriors. There were stories about that. It was how things happened.\n\nAfter he knew their secrets, he'd go to the Snakes and Foxes and receive answers on how to locate the Shaido who had murdered his father. From there, tracking and killing them would be a quest worthy of its own story.\n\nI'll take Noal, he thought. He's been everywhere. He can be my guide. He...\n\nNoal was dead.\n\nSweat crawled down the side of Olver's face as he stared at the rocky path ahead. They passed more of those terrible trees, and now everyone gave them a wide berth. Beside the path, though, one of the men pointed out a large patch of that killing mud. It looked brown and thick, and Olver spotted several bones peeking out.\n\nThis place was horrible!\n\nHe wished Noal were here. Noal had gone everywhere, seen everything. He'd know how to get them out of this place. But Noal was gone. Olver had only heard the news recently, filtered through things that the Lady Moiraine had shared about what happened at the Tower of Ghenjei.\n\nEveryone's dying, Olver thought, eyes still forward. Everyone...\n\nMat had runoff to the Seanchan, Talmanes to fight alongside Queen Elayne. One by one, everyone in this group was being eaten by trees, mud or monsters.\n\nWhy did they all leave Olver alone?\n\nHe rubbed at his bracelet. Noal had given it to him, shortly before leaving. Woven of rough fibers, it was of a type warriors wore in a faraway land, so Noal had told him. It was the mark of a man who had seen battle and lived."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Noal... dead. Would Mat die, too?\n\nOlver felt hot, tired and very frightened. He nudged Bela forward, and fortunately she obeyed, trotting a little faster up the slope so Olver moved up the line. They'd abandoned the wagons, then left for someplace called the Blasted Lands, which required them to climb some foothills. In the morning, they'd entered a pass between the mountains. Though he felt warm, the air was getting cooler as they climbed. He didn't mind that at all. It still smelled awful, though. Like rotting corpses.\n\nTheir group had started with fifty soldiers and almost half as many wagon drivers and workers. There were also a handful of others like Olver, Setalle and the half-dozen members of Lady Faile's bodyguard.\n\nSo far, they'd lost fifteen people to hazards of the Blight, including five killed by some horrible three-eyed things that had attacked the camp yesterday morning. He'd overheard Lady Faile saying that she considered them lucky to have lost only fifteen so far, that it could have been worse.\n\nIt didn't seem lucky to Olver. This place was awful and he wanted to be out of it. The Waste wouldn't be as bad as this, would it? Cha Faile's men and women acted like Aiel. A little bit like Aiel. Maybe they'd done as Olver wanted to, and trained in the Waste. He'd have to ask them.\n\nHe rode on for another half-hour or so. Eventually, he coaxed Bela up to the front of the line. Lady Faile's brilliant black mare looked fast. Why couldn't Olver have been given a horse like that one?\n\nFaile had Mat's chest tied to the back of her horse. At first, Olver had been pleased with that, as he figured Mat would want that tabac pretty badly. Mat always complained about not having good tabac. Then Olver had heard Faile explaining to someone else that the chest had simply been"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "a convenient place to stow some of her things."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Had she thrown away the tabac? Mat wouldn't like that.\n\nFaile looked at him, and Olver grinned, giving it as much confidence as he could. It wouldn't do for her to see how scared he was.\n\nMost women liked his grin. He'd been practicing it, though he didn't use Mat's grin as a model. Mat's always made him look guilty. You learned grins when you were forced to fend for yourself, and Olver needed one that made him seem innocent. And he was innocent. Mostly.\n\nFaile did not smile back. Olver figured that she was pretty good to look at, despite that nose. She wasnt very soft, though. Bloody ashes, but she had a glare that could rust good iron.\n\nFaile rode between Aravine and Vanin. Though they spoke softly, Olver could hear what they were saying. He made sure to stare in the other direction, so they d think he wasn't eavesdropping. And he wasn't. He just wanted to be out of the trail dust of the other horses.\n\n\"Yes,\" Vanin was whispering. \"It may not seem it, but were close to the Blasted Lands. Burn my own mother, I can't believe were going there. But do you feel the air? Its getting cooler. We haven't seen anything really nasty since those three-eyed things yesterday morning.\"\n\nWe are close,\"Aravine agreed.\" Soon, we will be near the Dark One, in a land where nothing grows, corrupted or not, where there is no life, not even the nastier things from the Blight.\"\n\n\"I suppose that should be a comfort.\"\n\n\"Not really,\" Vanin said, wiping his brow. \"Because the Shadowspawn up here are more dangerous. If we survive, it will be because there's a bloody war going on. The Shadowspawn are all locked in battle. If were lucky, the Blasted Lands, except right around Shayol Ghul, will be as empty as a man's purse after a deal with the bloody Sea Folk. Pardon my language, my Lady.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Olver squinted at the approaching mountain peak.\n\nThat's where the bloody Dark One lives, Olver thought. And that's probably where Mat is, not Merrilor. Mat talked about staying away from danger, but he always found his way to it anyway. Olver figured that Mat was just trying to be humble, but was bad at it. Why else would you say you don't want to be a hero, then always bloody end up charging right into danger?\n\nAnd this path?\"Faile asked Vanin.\" You said there might have been traffic here recently. Wouldn't that indicate that this place is far from as empty as you so colorfully described?\"\n\nVanin grunted. \"It does look used.\"\n\n\"So someone has been moving wagons through the area,\" Aravine said.\n\n\"I don't know if that is a good signora bad one.\"\n\n\"I don't think there are any good signs up here,\" Vanin said. \"Maybe we should just pick someplace nearby and hole up, waiting.\" He sighed, wiping his brow again, though Olver didn't see why. It was growing pretty cold-he could tell, even through the course of the day. And there seemed to be fewer plants, too. He was just fine with that.\n\nHe glanced over his shoulder at the stand of trees that had taken that poor man's life. There didn't seem to be any others like it nearby, particularly not ahead of them along the path.\n\n\"We can't afford to wait, Vanin,\" Faile said. \"I intend to get back to Merrilor, one way or another. The Dragon Reborn will be fighting at Thakan'dar. That's where we need to go to get out of this forsaken place.\"\n\nVanin groaned, but Olver smiled. He would find his way to Mat, and show how dangerous he could be in battle. Then..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Well, then maybe Mat wouldn't leave him like the others had. That would be good, as Olver was going to need Mat's help tracking down those Shaido. After all he'd learned training with the Band, he was certain nobody would push him around. And nobody would take those he loved from him ever again.\n\n\"There are accounts in the archives that explain what we saw.\" Cadsuane picked up her cup of tea to warm her hands.\n\nThe Aiel girl, Aviendha, sat on the floor of the tent. What I wouldn't give to have that one in the Tower, Cadsuane thought. These Wise Ones... they had fight to them. Real bite, like the best of the women in the White Tower.\n\nCadsuane was increasingly convinced that the Shadow for years had been carrying out a complex plan to undermine the White Tower. It went deeper than Siuan Sanche's unfortunate unseating and Elaida's reign. It might be decades, centuries, before they understood the extent of the Shadow's planning. However, the sheer number of Black sisters-hundreds, not the few dozen Cadsuane had guessed-shouted of what had happened.\n\nFor now, Cadsuane had to work with what she had. That included these Wise Ones, poorly trained in using weaves but never lacking in grit. Useful. Like Sorilea, despite her weakness in the One Power, who sat farther back in the tent, watching.\n\n\"I have made some inquiries, child,\" Cadsuane said to Aviendha. \" What this woman does is indeed Traveling. However, the only fragments of documents mentioning it date back to the War of Power.\n\nAviendha frowned. \"I saw no weaves, Cadsuane Sedai.\"\n\nCadsuane masked a smile at the respectful tone. The al'Thor boy had put this girl in command-and, in truth, better her than some others. However, he should have chosen Cadsuane, and Aviendha likely knew it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That is because the woman was not weaving the One Power,\" Cadsuane replied.\n\n\"What else would it be?\"\n\n\"Do you know why the Dark One was originally freed?\"\n\nAviendha looked as if remembering something. \"Ah... yes. Then they are channeling the Dark One's power?\"\n\n\"It is called the True Power,\" Cadsuane said. \"The accounts say that Traveling by True Power works in the way you have seen this woman move. Few saw it happen. The Dark One was miserly with his essence during the War of Power, and only the most favored were granted access. I surmise from this fact that this is most definitely one of the Forsaken. From your description of what she did to poor Sarene, I would suspect it is Graendal.\"\n\n\"The stories never mentioned Graendal being so ugly,\" Sorilea said softly. \"If you were one of the Forsaken, easily recognized by description, would you not wish to change your appearance to remain unknown?\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Sorilea said. \"But then I would not use this... True Power, as you name it. That would defeat the purpose of my disguise.\"\n\n\"From what Aviendha has told us,\" Cadsuane noted, \"the woman did not have much of a choice. She had to escape quickly.\"\n\nCadsuane and Sorilea met eyes, and each nodded in agreement. They would hunt this Forsaken, the two of them.\n\nI won't have you dying on me now, boy, Cadsuane thought, glancing over her shoulder toward where al'Thor, Nynaeve and Moiraine continued their work. Every channeler in the camp could feel that pulsing. At least, not until you've done what you need to do. Cadsuane had expected the Forsaken to be here. It was why she'd come to this battlefront."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Wind shook the tent, chilling Cadsuane down deep. This place was awful, even when the battle slowed. The dread that hung here was like that of a funeral fora child. It stifled laughter, killed smiles. The Dark One watched. Light, but it would be good to leave this place.\n\nAviendha drank her tea. The woman still looked haunted, although she had obviously lost allies in battle before.\n\n\"I left them to die,\" she whispered.\n\n\"Phaw,\" Cadsuane said to her. \"You are not to blame for what one of the Forsaken did, child.\"\n\n\"You don't understand,\" Aviendha said. \"We were in a circle, and they tried to break free-I felt them-but I didn't know what was happening. I held onto their Power, and so they couldn't fight her. I left them helpless.\"\n\n\"Well, from now on don't leave those in your circle behind,\" Cadsuane said briskly. \"You could not have known what would happen.\"\n\n\"If you suspect this one is nearby, Aviendha,\" Sorilea said, \"you will send word to Cadsuane, me or Amys. There is no shame in admitting that another is too strong to face alone. We will defeat this woman together and protect the Car'a\"carn\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Aviendha said. \"But you will do the same for me. All of you.\"\n\nShe waited. Cadsuane reluctantly agreed, as did Sorilea.\n\nFaile crouched in a dark tent. The air had grown even colder, now that they were close to Thakan'dar. She ran her thumb along the hilt of her knife, breathing in slowly and evenly, then releasing the breath in the same manner. She stared at the tent flaps, unblinking."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She'd placed the Horn's chest therewith one corner sticking out into the night."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She felt more alone hereon the border of the Blasted Lands-surrounded by supposed allies-than she had in the Shaido camp.\n\nTwo nights ago, she'd been called out of her tent to inspect some odd tracks that had worried the men. They hadn't lost anyone since drawing so close to the Blasted Lands-that part of the plan was working-but tensions were still high. She'd been gone only a few minutes, but when she'd returned, the Horn's chest in her tent had been moved just slightly.\n\nSomeone had tried to open it. Light. Fortunately, they hadn't managed to break the lock, and the Horn had still been there when she'd looked.\n\nThe traitor could be anyone. One of the Redarms, a wagon driver, a member of Cha Faile. Faile had spent the past two nights being extra-even obviously-vigilant with the chest to frustrate the thief. Then, tonight, she'd complained of a headache and allowed Setalle to fix her some tea to help her sleep. She'd brought the tea back to her tent, had not taken a sip and now crouched, waiting.\n\nThe chest's corner would be obvious, poking out into the night. Would they try again? As a precaution, she'd removed the Horn from the chest and taken it when she went out to answer the call of nature. She'd hidden it therein a cubby of rock and, upon returning, had put Cha Faile on patrol duty for the night, away from her tent. They had not liked leaving her unguarded, but Faile had made it clear that she was worried about tensions among the men.\n\nThat would be enough. Light, let it be enough.\n\nHours passed with Faile crouched in that same position, ready to leap up and call the alarm the moment someone tried to enter her tent. Surely they would try again tonight, when she was supposedly ill."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nothing. Her muscles ached, but she didn't move. The thief could be out there, in the dark, waiting. Wondering if this was the right moment to strike, to grab the Horn and runoff to his or her masters. It-\n\nA scream shattered the night.\n\nFaile wavered. A distraction?\n\nThat scream, she thought, judging the direction. It came... from just west of here.\n\nNear where she'd hidden the Horn. Faile cursed, making a snap decision. The chest was empty. If she took the bait and it really was just a distraction, then she would not lose anything. If, on the other hand, the thief had anticipated her... She darted from the tent as others scrambled from bedrolls. Members of Cha Faile raced through the camp. The yell came again.\n\nIt was accompanied by a haunting screech, a type that had been following them in the distance.\n\nShe crashed through some thin, Blight-stained weeds. Running through them was a foolish move in a place where a twig could kill, but she was not thinking clearly.\n\nShe arrived first on the scene, reaching the area where she'd hidden the Horn. There stood not only Vanin, but Harnan as well. Vanin clutched the Horn of Valere in thick arms while Harnan fought against some kind of beast with dark fur, shouting and swinging his sword.\n\nVanin looked at Faile and grew as pale as a Whitecloak's shirt.\n\n\"Thief!\" Faile shouted. \"Stop him! He has stolen the Horn of Valere!\"\n\nVanin cried out, tossing the Horn as if it had bitten him, then dashing away. Light, but he could move quickly for one of his bulk! He grabbed Harnan by the shoulder, pulling him to the side as the beast screamed that haunting wail."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Other roars came in the distance. Faile skidded to the ground, grabbing the Horn and clutching it close. These men were no common thieves. They had not only seen through her plan, but anticipated exactly where she'd hidden the Horn. She felt like a farmgirl who had just fallen fora townsman's three-cup scam.\n\nThose who had come running with her stood stunned, either by the sight of the Horn or the monster. The creature screeched-it looked like some kind of bear with too many arms, though it was larger than any bear Faile had seen. She stumbled to her feet. There was no time to look for the thieves as the beast smashed its way into Faile's guards. It ripped the head off a member of Cha Faile, screeching.\n\nFaile shouted, flinging a knife at the thing as Arrela hacked atone of its shoulders with her sword. Just then, a second beast came lumbering over the rocks next to Faile.\n\nShe cursed, leaping away, flinging a knife. She hit it-or, at least, the thing cried out in what sounded like anger and pain. As Mandevwin rode upon horseback, bearing a torch, the light revealed that the horrible things had faces like those of insects, with a multitude of fanglike teeth. Faile's knife protruded from one bulblike eye.\n\n\"Protect the lady!\" Mandevwin yelled, throwing spears to nearby Red-arms, who rammed them at the first monster, pushing it back from Arrela-who scrambled away, bleeding. The woman hadn't lost her sword, though.\n\nFaile fell back as Cha Faile organized around her, then looked down at what she held. The Horn of Valere itself, pulled from the sack in which she'd hidden it. She could blow it..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No, she thought. It is bound to Cauthon. To her, it would be just an ordinary horn.\n\n\"Steady!\" Mandevwin said, dancing his warhorse back as one of the beasts lunged at it. \"Verdin, Laandon, we need more spears! Go! The things fight like boars. Draw them forward, impale them!\"\n\nThe tactic worked on one of the monsters, but as Mandevwin yelled, the other one charged at him and grabbed his horse by the neck. The beast brushed aside soldiers who tried to strike, and Mandevwin crashed to the ground, groaning.\n\nStill clutching the Horn, Faile dashed past where a group of Redarms had managed to skewer the other beast. She grabbed a freshly lit torch and threw it at the other monster, lighting the fur on its back. The thing bellowed as fire raced up its spine, the fur burning like dry tinder. It dropped Mandevwin's dead horse, the head ripped nearly free, as it thrashed, yelling and howling.\n\n\"Grab the wounded!\" Faile ordered. She took a member of the Band by the arm. \"See to Mandevwin!\"\n\nThe man looked down at the Horn she held, eyes wide, then shook himself and nodded, calling for two others to help him lift the man.\n\n\"My Lady?\" Aravine asked, standing near the bushes behind. \"What is happening?\"\n\n\"Two Redarms tried to steal what I have been carrying,\" Faile said. \"Now we're going to ride away into the night.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Listen!\" Faile said, pointing into the darkness.\n\nDistantly, a dozen different screeches sounded, responding to the cries of the dying beast."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The screams will draw further horrors, as will the scent of spilled blood."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We go. If we can get deeply enough into the Blasted Lands tonight, we might be safe. Rouse the camp and get the wounded onto horses. Prepare everyone else fora forced quick march. Quickly!\"\n\nAravine nodded, scrambling off. Faile spared a glance in the direction Harnan and Vanin had gone. She longed to hunt them down, but tracking them in the night would require them to move slowly, and that would mean death this night. Besides, who knew what resources a pair of Darkfriends had access to?\n\nThey would flee. And Light, she hoped that she hadn't been deceived more than it seemed. If Vanin had somehow known to prepare a dummy Horn, a replica to drop and leave for Faile to'rescue\" as he fled...\n\nShe'd never know. She'd reach the Last Battle with a fake Horn, and perhaps doom them all. That possibility haunted her as the caravan's members hastily moved into the darkness, hoping in Light and luck to escape the dangers of the night.\n\nCHAPTER\n\nUnchangeable Things\n\nSomething was wrong with Rand.\n\nNynaeve clutched the stalagmite deep within the Pit of Doom, holding herself from being pulled by the winds into that nothingness in front of her. Moiraine had called it the Dark One's essence, but wouldn't that make it the True Power? Worse, if his essence was in the world, wouldn't that mean that he had broken free? Whatever it was, its nature was pure evil, and it filled Nynaeve with a terror like none she had ever felt before in her life.\n\nIt pulled with a powerful force, drawing all that was nearby into it. She feared that if she let go, she would be yanked in. Already, it had stolen her shawl, making it vanish. If that nothingness pulled her in, her life would end. Perhaps her soul as well."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rand! Nynaeve thought. Could she do something to help him? He stood before Moridin, the two of them locked together, sword against sword. Frozen as if in a moment. Sweat trickled down Rand's face. He did not speak. He didn't so much as blink.\n\nHis foot had touched the darkness. At that moment, he had frozen, and so had Moridin. They were like statues. The air howled around them, but did not seem to affect them as it did Nynaeve. They'd been standing like that, frozen, fora good fifteen minutes.\n\nAll in all, it had been less than an hour since the group of them had entered the pit to face the Dark One.\n\nNynaeve watched rocks slide across the ground, then be sucked into that blackness. Her clothing rippled and flapped as if in a strong wind, as did Moiraine s, who huddled nearby holding to her own tooth of stone. Mercifully, the stench of sulfur that had filled the cavern was drawn away here into the blackness.\n\nShe couldn't use the One Power. Rand drew every bit of it she could hold, though he didnt seem to be doing anything with it. Could she reach Moridin? He didn't seem to be able to move. What if she took a rock to his head? It would be better than waiting.\n\nNynaeve tested her weight against the pull of the nothingness ahead, relaxing her grip on the stalagmite. She immediately started to slip, and pulled herself back.\n\nI am not spending the Last Battle dinging to a rock! she thought. Not the same one the whole time, at the very least. She had to risk moving. Going directly forward seemed too dangerous, but if she moved sideways... yes, there was another stalagmite nearby to her right. She managed to let goof her hold and half-slip, half-scuttle to the next stalagmite. From there, she picked out another one, carefully eased off her hold and grabbed it instead."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The process was very slow. Rand, you wool-headed fool, she thought. If he'd let her or Moiraine lead the circle, then maybe they could have done something while he was fighting!\n\nShe reached another stalagmite, then stopped as she saw something to her right. She almost screamed. A woman huddled there, hidden against the wall, sheltered from the wind by the rocks. She appeared to be crying.\n\nNynaeve glanced at Rand, who was still locked in stasis with Moridin, then approached the woman. The greater number of stalagmites here meant that Nynaeve could crawl more safely, the stones blocking the pull of the nothingness.\n\nNynaeve reached the woman. She was chained to the wall. \"Alanna?\" Nynaeve shouted over the wind. \"Light, what are you doing here?\"\n\nThe Aes Sedai blinked reddened eyes at Nynaeve. Her eyes stared dully, as if she had no mind. As Nynaeve examined the woman, she noticed that the entire left side of Alanna's body was bloodied from a knife wound to the gut. Light! Nynaeve should have known that from the paleness of the woman's face.\n\nWhy stab her and leave her here? She bonded Rand, Nynaeve realized. Oh, Light. It was a trap. Moridin had left Alanna bleeding, then confronted Rand. When Alanna died, Rand-as her Warder-would be driven mad with rage, making him easy for Moridin to destroy.\n\nWhy hadn't he noticed? Nynaeve fished at her pouches for herbs, then\n\nstopped short. Could herbs do anything at this point? She needed to use the One Power to Heal such a wound. Nynaeve ripped the woman's clothing, making a bandage, then tried to draw saidar for Healing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rand had it, and he wouldn't let go. Frantic, she tried to batter him away, but Rand held tight. Tighter, as she tried to push against him. He did seem to be channeling it, somehow, but she couldn't seethe weaves. She could feel something, but with the howling wind and the strange nature of the pit, it was like a tempest swirling around her. The Power was wrapped up in that somehow.\n\nBlast it! She needed saidar\\ It wasn't Rand's fault. He could not give her any power while leading the circle.\n\nNynaeve pressed her hand against Alanna's wound, feeling helpless. Dared she call for Rand to release her from the circle? If she did, Moridin would undoubtedly turn on her and attack Alanna.\n\nWhat to do? If this woman died, Rand would lose control. That, likely, would be the end of him... and of the Last Battle.\n\nMat hacked at the wood with his axe to sharpen it to a point. \"See,\" he said, \"it doesn't need to be fancy. Save your pretty carpentry to impress the mayor's daughter.\"\n\nThe watching men and women nodded with grim determination. They were farmers, villagers and craftsmen, like people he'd known back in the Two Rivers. Mat had thousands of them under his command. He'd never have suspected that there would be so many. The good people of the land had come to fight.\n\nMat figured they were insane, to a person. If he had been able to escape, he would be hiding in abasement somewhere. Burn him, but he would have tried.\n\nThose dice rattled in his head, just as they'd been doing ever since Egwene gave him control of all of the armies of the Light. Being bloody taveren was not worth two beans."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He kept at it, shaping his stake for the palisade. One fellow watched particularly carefully, an old farmer with skin so leathery that Trolloc swords would likely just bounce off. He looked familiar to Mat for some reason.\n\nBurn these memories, Mat thought. Undoubtedly, this fellow resembled someone from one of those old memories Mat had been given. Yes, that felt right. He could not quite remember. A... cart? A Fade?\n\n\"Come on, Renald,\" the fellow said to one of his companions-another farmer, Borderlander stock from the looks of him. \"Let's goon down the line, and see if we can hurry the other lads up.\"\n\nThe two headed off as Mat finished his stake, then wiped his brow. He reached for another length of wood-he had better give these sheepherders another demonstration-when a cadin'sor-clad figure ran up along the mostly finished palisade wall.\n\nUrien had bright red hair, kept short save for the tail in the back. He raised a hand to Mat as he passed. \"They are agitated, Matrim Cauthon,\" Urien said, not stopping. \"I believe they are coming in this direction.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" Mat called. \"I owe you.\"\n\nThe Aiel turned as he ran, jogging backward fora second and facing Mat. Just win this battle! I have beta skin of oosquai upon our success.\"\n\nMat snorted. The only thing more discomforting than a stoic Aiel was a grinning one. Bet? On the outcome of this battle? What kind of bet was that? If they lost, nobody would livelong enough to collect...\n\nMat frowned. Actually, that was a pretty good bet to be making. \"Who did you find to take that bet?\" Mat called. \"Urien?\" But the man was already too faraway to hear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat grumbled, but handed his axe to one of the people nearby, a slender Tairen woman. \"Keep them inline, Cynd.\"\n\n\"Yes, Lord Cauthon.\"\n\n\"I'm no bloody lord,\" Mat said by habit as he picked up his ashandarei. He walked off, then turned to look at the palisade being erected and caught sight of a handful of Deathwatch Guards walking along the rows of working people. Like wolves among the sheep. Mat hurried on.\n\nHis armies did not have much time left to prepare. Using gateways had put them ahead of the Trollocs, but they had not escaped. Light, there was no escape. Mat had been given his choice of battlefields, though, and this Merrilor place would work best.\n\nLike picking the plot for your own grave, Mat thought. Sure, I'd rather not have to choose in the first place.\n\nThe palisade was rising in front of the woods east of the field. He did not have time to section off or surround the entire area with a palisade, and doing so would not make much sense anyway. With those Sharan channelers, the Shadow could rip through walls like a sword through silk. But some palisades, with catwalks on top, would give his archers height to target Trollocs.\n\nMat had two rivers to work with here. The River Mora flowed in a southwest direction, running between the Heights and Dashar Knob. Its south-\n\nern bank was in Shienar, the northern bank in Arafel. It joined the River Erinin, which ran directly westward at the southern edge of the field.\n\nThose rivers would serve better than any walls, particularly now that he had the resources to defend them correctly. Well, if you could call them resources. Half his soldiers were as new as spring grass and the other half had fought near to death the week before. The Borderlanders had lost two men out of three-Light, two out of three. A lesser army would have disbanded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Counting everyone he had, Mat would be outnumbered four to one when those Trollocs arrived, at least according to the reports from the Fists of Heaven. It was going to be messy.\n\nMat pulled his hat down further, then scratched at the side of the new eyepatch that Tuon had given him. Red leather. He liked it.\n\n\"Here now,\" he said, passing some of the new Tower Guard recruits. They were sparring with quarterstaffs-spearheads were still being forged to goon the ends. The men looked more likely to hurt themselves than the enemy.\n\nMat handed his ashandarei to a man, then took a quarterstaff from another as the first hastily saluted. Most of these men were not old enough to need to shave more than once a month. If the boy whose staff he had taken was a day over fifteen, Mat would eat his boots. He would not even boil them first!\n\n\"You cant cringe every time the staff hits something!\" Mat said. \"Close your eyes on the battlefield, and you're dead. Didn't you lot pay any attention last time?\"\n\nMat held up the staff, showing them whereto grip it, then put them through the blocking practice his father had shown him back when he had been young enough to think fighting might actually be fun. He worked up a sweat, hitting at each of the new recruits in turn, forcing each to block.\n\n\"Burn me, but you will figure this out,\" Mat said loudly to all of them. \"I wouldn't care so much, as you lot seem to have the wits of stumps, but if you get yourselves killed, your mothers will be expecting me to send them word. I won't do it, mind you. But I might feel a little guilty between games of dice, and I hate feeling guilty, so pay attention!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lord Cauthon?\" said the lad who had given him the staff.\n\n\"I'm not-\" He stopped. \"Well, yes, what is it?\"\n\n\"Can't we just learn the sword?\"\n\n\"Light!\" Mat said. \"What's your name?\"\n\n\"Sigmont, sir.\"\n\n\"Well, Sigmont, how much time do you think we have? Maybe you could wander out, talk to the Dreadlords and the Shadowspawn and ask them to give me a few more months' time so I can train you all properly.\"\n\nSigmont blushed, and Mat handed back his staff. City boys. He sighed.\n\nLook here, all I want is for you lotto be able to defend yourselves. I don't have time to make you great warriors, but I can teach you to work together, keep a formation, and not shy away when the Trollocs come. That will get you farther than any kind of fancy swordplay, trust me.\"\n\nThe youths nodded reluctantly.\n\n\"Get back to your practice,\" Mat said, wiping his brow and looking over his shoulder. Bloody ashes! The Deathwatch Guards were heading his way.\n\nHe grabbed his ashandarei and rushed off, then ducked around the side of a tent, only to stumble into a group of Aes Sedai approaching on the path.\n\n\"Mat?\" Egwene asked from the middle of the group of women. \"Are you well?\"\n\n\"They're bloody chasing me,\" he said, glancing around the side of the tent. \"Who is chasing you?\" Egwene said.\n\n\"Deathwatch Guards,\" Mat said. \"I'm supposed to be back at Tuon's tent.\" Egwene waved a few fingers, sending the other women off, except her two shadows-Gawyn and that Seanchan woman-who remained with her. \"Mat,\" Egwene said in a suffering tone, \"I'm glad you've finally decided to see reason and leave the Seanchan camp, but couldn't you have waited until after the battle was over to defect?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Sorry,\" he said, only half-listening."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But can we walk on toward the Aes Sedai quarter of camp? They won't follow me there.\" Maybe not. If all Deathwatch Guards were like Karede, maybe they would. Karede would dive after a man falling off a cliff in order to catch him.\n\nEgwene started back, seeming displeased with Mat. How was it Aes Sedai could be so perfectly emotionless, yet still let a man know they disapproved of him? Come to think of it, an Aes Sedai would probably follow a man off a cliff, too, if only to explain to him-in detail-all the things he was doing incorrectly in the way he went about killing himself.\n\nMat wished so many of his thoughts lately did not involve feeling like he was the one jumping off the cliff.\n\n\"We'll have to find away to explain to Fortuona why you ran,\" Egwene said as they approached the Aes Sedai quarter. Mat had placed it as far from the Seanchan as was reasonable. \"The marriage is going to present a problem. I suggest that you-\"\n\n\"Wait, Egwene,\" Mat said. \"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"You are running from the Seanchan guards,\" Egwene said. \"Weren't you listening... Of course you weren't. It is pleasant to know that, as the world crumbles, a few things are completely unchangeable. Cuendillar and Mat Cauthon.\"\n\n\"I'm running from them,\" Mat said, looking over his shoulder, \"because Tuon wants me to sit in judgment. Anytime a soldier is seeking the Empress's mercy fora crime, I'm the one who is supposed to bloody hear his case!\"\n\n\"You,\" Egwene said, \"passing judgment?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know,\" Mat said. \"Too much bloody work, if you ask me. I've been dodging guardsmen all day, trying to steal a little time for myself.\"\n\n\"A little honest work wouldn't kill you, Mat.\"\n\n\"Now, you know that's not true. Soldiering is honest work, and it gets men killed all the bloody time.\"\n\nGawyn Trakand was apparently practicing to bean Aes Sedai sometime, because he kept giving Mat glares that would have made Moiraine proud. Well, let him. Gawyn was a prince. He had been raised to do things like pass judgment. He probably sent a few men to the gallows each day at his lunch break, just to keep in practice.\n\nBut Mat... Mat was not going to order men to be executed, and that was that. They passed a group of Aiel sparring together. Was this group what Urien had been running to reach? Once they had passed-Mat trying to make the others walk faster so the Seanchan would not catch up-he drew closer to Egwene.\n\n\"Have you found it yet?\" he asked softly.\n\n\"No,\" Egwene said, eyes forward.\n\nNo need to mention what it was. \"How could you have lost the thing? After all the work we bloody went through to find it?\"\n\n\"We? From the telling I hear, Rand, Loial and the Borderlanders had far more to do with finding it than you.\"\n\n\"I was there,\" Mat said. \"I rode across the entire bloody continent, didn't I? Burn me, first Rand, then you. Is everybody going to chivvy me about those days? Gawyn, you want a turn?\"\n\n\"Yes, please.\" He sounded eager."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Shut up,\" Mat said. \"It seems that nobody can remember straight but me. I hunted down that bloody Hornlike a madman. And, I'll mention, it was me blowing the thing that let you all escape Falme.\"\n\n\"Is that how you remember it?\" Egwene asked.\n\n\"Sure,\" Mat said. \"I mean, I have some holes in there, but I've pieced it mostly together.\"\n\n\"And the dagger?\"\n\n\"That trinket? Hardly worth anyone's time.\" He caught himself reaching to his side, to where he had once carried it. Egwene raised an eyebrow at him. Anyway, thats not the point. Were going to need that bloody instrument, Egwene. We'll need it.\"\n\n\"We have people searching,\" she said. \"We're not sure exactly what happened. There was a Traveling residue, but it's been awhile and... Light, Mat. We're trying. I promise it. It's not the only thing the Shadow has stolen from us recently...\"\n\nHe glanced at her, but she gave him no more. Flaming Aes Sedai. \"Has anyone seen Perrin yet?\" he asked. \"I don't want to be the one to tell him his wife has gone missing.\"\n\nNobody has seen him,\"Egwene said.\" I assume he is at work helping Rand.\"\n\nBah,\"Mat said.\" Can you make a gateway for me up to the top of the Knob?\"\n\n\"I thought you wanted to go to my camp.\"\n\nIts on the way, Mat said. Well, sort of, it was. \"And those Deathwatch Guards won't expect it. Burn me, Egwene, but I think they've guessed where we were heading.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene after pausing fora moment-opened them a gateway to the Traveling ground atop the Knob. They stepped through onto it.\n\nMore than a hill, less than a mountain, Dashar Knob rose a good hundred feet into the air near the middle of the battlefield. The rock formation was unscalable, and gateways were the only way to reach the top. From here, Mat and his commanders would be able to watch the entire battle play out.\n\n\"I have never known anyone else,\" Egwene said to him, \"who will work so hard to avoid hard work, Matrim Cauthon.\"\n\n\"You haven't spent enough time around soldiers.\" Mat waved at the men who saluted him as he walked out of the Traveling grounds.\n\nHe looked north toward the River Mora and across it into Arafel. Then northeast, toward the ruins of what had once been some kind of fort or watchtower. Eastward, toward the rising palisade and the forest. He continued to turn, southward to gaze at the River Erinin in the far distance, and the strange little grove of tall trees that Loial was so in awe of. They said Rand had grown those, during the meeting where the treaty had been signed. Mat looked southwest toward the only good ford on the Mora nearby, named Hawal Ford by the locals who had farmed this area; beyond the ford on the Arafel side was a large expanse of bogs.\n\nWestward, across the Mora, lay Polov Heights-a forty-foot-tall plateau with a steep slope on the east and more gradual slopes on the other sides.\n\nBetween the base of the southwestern slope and the bogs was a corridor roughly two hundred paces across, well worn by travelers who used the ford to cross between Arafel and Shienar. Mat could use these features to his advantage. He could use them all. Would that be enough? He could feel something pulling on him, tugging him northward. Rand would need him soon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He turned, ready to bolt, as someone approached across the top of the Knob, but it was not the Deathwatch Guards. It was just leather-faced Jur Grady.\n\n\"I fetched those soldiers for you,\" Grady said, pointing. Mat could see a small force coming through a gateway to the Traveling grounds near the palisade. A hundred men of the Band, led by Delarn, flying a bloody red flag. The Redarms were accompanied by some five hundred people in worn clothing.\n\n\"What was the point of this?\" Grady asked. \"You sent those hundred to a village in the south to recruit, I assume?\"\n\nThat, and more. I saved your life, man, Mat thought, trying to pick Delarn out of the group. And then you volunteer for this. Bloody fool. Delarn acted as if it were his fate.\n\n\"Take them upriver,\" Mat said. \"The maps show there is only one good place to block the Mora, a narrow canyon a few leagues northeast of here.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Grady said. \"There will be channelers involved.\"\n\n\"You will have to handle them,\" Mat said. \" Mostly, though, I want you\n\nto let those six hundred men and women defend the river. Don't risk your\n\nself too much. Let Delarn and his people do the work.\"\n\n\"Pardon,\" Grady said. \"But that doesn't seem like a very large force. Most of them aren't trained soldiers.\"\n\n\"I know what I'm doing,\" Mat said. I hope.\n\nGrady nodded reluctantly and moved off.\n\nEgwene watched Mat with curious eyes.\n\n\"We can't fallback from this fight,\" Mat said softly. \"We don't retreat. There isn't anywhere to go. We stand here, or we lose it all.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There is always a retreat,\" Egwene said.\n\n\"No,\" Mat said. \"Not anymore.\" He rested his ashandarei on his shoulder, his other handout, palm forward. He scanned the landscape, memories appearing as if from light and dust before him. Rion at Hune Hill. Naath and the San d'ma Shadar. The Fall of Pipkin. Hundreds upon hundreds of battlefields, hundreds of victories. Thousands of deaths.\n\nMat watched figments of memories flash across the field. \" Have you spoken to the supply masters? We're out of food, Egwene. We can't win a\n\nprotracted war, fighting and falling back. The enemy will overwhelm us if we do that. Just like Eyal in the Marches of Maighande. We are at our strongest now, broken though we are. Fallback, and we resign ourselves to starvation as the Trollocs destroy us.\"\n\n\"Rand,\" Egwene said. \"We just have to holdout until he is victorious.\" \"That's true in a fashion,\" Mat said, turning toward the Heights. In his mind's eye, he saw what could come, the possibilities. He imagined riders on the Heights, like shadows. He would lose if he tried to hold those Heights, but maybe...\"If Rand loses, it won't matter. The Wheel is bloody broken, and we all become nothing, if we're lucky. Well, we can't do anything more about it. But here's the thing. If he does what he's supposed to, we could still lose-we will lose, if we don't stop the Shadow's armies.\" He blinked, seeing it, the entire battlefield spread before him. Fighting at the ford. Arrows from the palisade. \"We can't just beat them, Egwene,\" Mat said. \"We can't just stand and hold on. We have to destroy them, drive them away, then hunt them to the last Trolloc. We can't just survive... we have to win\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How are we going to do that?\" Egwene asked. \"Mat, you're not talking sense. Weren't you just saying yesterday how outnumbered we'll be?\"\n\nHe looked toward the bog, imagining shadows trying to slog through it. Shadows of dust and memory. \"I have to change it all,\" he said. He could not do what they would expect. He could not do what spies might have reported he was planning. \"Blood and bloody ashes... one last toss of the dice. Everything we have, piled into a heap...\"\n\nA group of men in dark armor came through a gateway to the top of the Knob, panting deeply, as if they'd had to chase down a damane to get them up here. Their breastplates were lacquered a deep red, but this batch did not need a fearsome display to be frightening. They looked furious enough to scramble eggs with a stare.\n\n\"You,\" said the lead Deathwatch Guard, a man named Gelen, pointing at Mat, \"are needed at the-\"\n\nMat held up a hand to cut him off.\n\n\"I will not be denied again!\" Gelen said. \"I have orders from-\"\n\nMat shot the man a glare, and he stopped short. Mat turned northward again. A cool, somehow familiar wind blew across him, rippling his long coat, brushing at his hat. He narrowed his eye. Rand was tugging on him.\n\nThe dice still tumbled in his head.\n\n\"They're here,\" Mat said.\n\n\"What did you say?\" Egwene asked.\n\n\"They're here.\"\n\n\"The scouts-\"\n\n\"The scouts are wrong\" Mat said. He looked up, and noticed a pair of taken speeding back toward the camp. They had seen it. The Trollocs must have marched through the night."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sharans will come first, Mat thought, to give the Trollocs a breather. They'll have arrived through gateways.\n\n\"Send runners,\" Mat said, pointing at the Deathwatch Guards, \"get the men and women to their posts. And warn Elayne that I'm going to change the battle plan.\"\n\n\"What?\" Egwene said.\n\n\"They're here\\\" Mat said, turning on the Guards. \"Why aren't you bloody running! Go, go!\" Above, the raken screeched. Gelen, to his credit, saluted, then ran-pounding in that massive armor-with his companions.\n\n\"This is it, Egwene,\" Mat said. \"Take a deep breath, a last pull on the brandy, or burn your final pinch of tabac. Have a good look at the ground before you, as it's soon going to be covered in blood. In an hour, we'll be in the thick of it. The Light watch over us all.\"\n\nPerrin drifted in darkness. He felt so tired.\n\nSlayer still lives, apiece of himself thought. Graendal is corrupting the great captains. The end is near. You can't slip away now! Hold on.\n\nHold onto what? He tried to open his eyes, but was so exhausted. He should.... should have gotten out of the wolf dream sooner. His entire body felt numb, except...\n\nExcept for his side. Moving fingers that felt like bricks, he touched the warmth. His hammer. It was blazing hot. That warmth seemed to move up his fingers, and Perrin took a deep breath.\n\nHe needed to wake up. He hovered at the edges of consciousness, as when he was close to sleep, but still partially aware. In that state, he felt as if he faced a forked pathway before him. One path led deeper into darkness. And one led... He couldn't see, but he knew that it meant... It meant waking up."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 7"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sharans will come first, Mat thought, to give the Trollocs a breather. They'll have arrived through gateways.\n\n\"Send runners,\" Mat said, pointing at the Deathwatch Guards, \"get the men and women to their posts. And warn Elayne that I'm going to change the battle plan.\"\n\n\"What?\" Egwene said.\n\n\"They're here\\\" Mat said, turning on the Guards. \"Why aren't you bloody running! Go, go!\" Above, the raken screeched. Gelen, to his credit, saluted, then ran-pounding in that massive armor-with his companions.\n\n\"This is it, Egwene,\" Mat said. \"Take a deep breath, a last pull on the brandy, or burn your final pinch of tabac. Have a good look at the ground before you, as it's soon going to be covered in blood. In an hour, we'll be in the thick of it. The Light watch over us all.\"\n\nPerrin drifted in darkness. He felt so tired.\n\nSlayer still lives, apiece of himself thought. Graendal is corrupting the great captains. The end is near. You can't slip away now! Hold on.\n\nHold onto what? He tried to open his eyes, but was so exhausted. He should.... should have gotten out of the wolf dream sooner. His entire body felt numb, except...\n\nExcept for his side. Moving fingers that felt like bricks, he touched the warmth. His hammer. It was blazing hot. That warmth seemed to move up his fingers, and Perrin took a deep breath.\n\nHe needed to wake up. He hovered at the edges of consciousness, as when he was close to sleep, but still partially aware. In that state, he felt as if he faced a forked pathway before him. One path led deeper into darkness. And one led... He couldn't see, but he knew that it meant... It meant waking up."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Warmth from the hammer radiated up his arm. His mind gathered sharpness. Awaken.\n\nThat was what Slayer had done. He had... awakened... somehow...\n\nPerrin's life was trickling away. Not much time left. Half within death's embrace, he gritted his teeth, drew in a deep breath and forced himself to wake.\n\nThe silence of the wolf dream shattered.\n\nPerrin hit soft earth, and entered a place of shouts. Something about a battlefront, about preparing the lines...\n\nNearby, someone cried out. And then someone else. And others. \"Perrin?\" He knew that voice. \"Perrin, lad!\"\n\nMaster Luhhan? Perrin's eyelids felt so heavy. He couldn't open them. Arms grabbed him.\n\n\"Hang on. I have you, lad. I have you. Hang on.\"\n\nCHAPTER\n\nThe Last Battle\n\nDawn broke that morning on Polov Heights, but the sun did not shine on the Defenders of the Light. Out of the west and out of the north came the armies of Darkness, to win this one last battle and cast a Shadow across the earth; to usher in an Age where the wails of suffering would go unheard.\n\n-from the notebook of Loial, son of Arent son of Halan, the Fourth Age\n\nLan held his sword aloft as he galloped Mandarb through camp.\n\nAbove, the morning clouds began to bleed red, reflecting enormous fireballs rising from the massive Sharan army that was approaching from the west. They arced in the sky gracefully, seeming slow because of the great distance.\n\nGroups of riders broke out of the camp, joining Lan. The remaining Malkieri rode just behind him, but his force had swelled like a tide. Andere joined him at the front, the flag of Malkier-the Golden Crane-acting as a banner for all of the Borderlands."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had been bloodied, but not beaten. Knock a man down, and you saw what he was made of. That man might run. If he didn't-if he stood backup with blood at the corner of his mouth and determination in his eyes then you knew. That man was about to become truly dangerous.\n\nThe fireballs seemed to move more quickly as they dropped, crashing to the camp in bursts of red fury. Explosions shook the ground. Nearby screams rose to accompany the thunder of hoofbeats. Still men joined him. Mat Cauthon had spread word through all of the camps that more cavalry were needed to join Lan's advance and replace lost soldiers.\n\nHe had also disclosed the cost of doing so. The cavalry would beat the forefront of the fighting, breaking Trolloc and Sharan lines, and would find little rest. They'd carry the brunt of the casualties this day.\n\nStill, men joined him. Borderlanders who should have been too old to ride. Merchants who had put aside the money pouch and taken up the sword. A surprising number of southerners, including many women, wearing breastplates and steel or leather caps, carrying spears. There weren't enough lances to go around.\n\n\"Half of those joining look like farmers more than soldiers!\" Andere called to him over the hoofbeats.\n\n\"Have you ever seen a manor woman from the Two Rivers ride, Andere?\" Lan yelled back.\n\n\"I can't say that I have.\"\n\n\"Watch and be surprised.\"\n\nLan's cavalry reached the River Mora, where a man with long, curling hair, wearing a black coat, stood with hands clasped behind his back. Logain now had forty Aes Sedai and Asha'man with him. He eyed Lan's force, then raised a hand toward the sky, crumpling an enormous falling fireball as if it were apiece of paper. The sky cracked like lightning, and the breaking fireball gushed sparks to every side, smoke churning in the air. Ashes drifted down, burning out, hitting the rushing river and scattering black and white on its surface."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lan slowed Mandarb as he approached Hawal Ford, just south of the Heights."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Logain thrust his other hand toward the river. The waters churned, then lurched up into the air as if flowing over an invisible ramp. They crashed down on the other side, a violent waterfall, while some of the water spilled over the banks of the river.\n\nLan nodded to Logain and continued on, guiding Mandarb under the waterfall and crossing the still-wet rocks of the ford. Sunlight filtered through the river waters above, sparkling down on Lan as he thundered through the tunnel, Andere and the Malkieri behind him. The waterfall roared down to his left, spraying a mist of water.\n\nLan shivered as he burst back out into the light, then charged through the corridor toward the Sharans. To his right rose the Heights, to his left the bogs, but there was a passage of solid, level ground here. Upon the\n\nHeights, archers, crossbowmen and dragoners prepared to release volleys at the oncoming foes.\n\nSharans at the front, a huge force of Trollocs gathering up behind, all directly west of the Heights. The thunder of dragonfire shook the air from the top of the Heights, and soon the Sharans had explosions of their own to contend with.\n\nLan set his lance, took aim at a Sharan soldier charging toward Polov Heights, then braced himself.\n\nElayne whipped her head up, turning to the side. That terrible song, a croon, a hum, beautiful yet terrible at the same time. She heeled Moonshadow, drawn toward that soft sound. Where was it?\n\nIt rose from somewhere deeper in the Seanchan camp at the base of Dashar Knob. Chewing out Mat for not telling her his plan of war could wait. She needed to find the source of that sound, that wonderful sound, that..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Elayne!\" Birgitte said.\n\nElayne kicked her horse forward.\n\n\"Elayne! Draghkar!\"\n\nDraghkar. Elayne shook herself, then looked up to find the creatures falling like drops of water into the camp around them. Guardswomen lowered their swords, eyes opening wide as the crooning continued.\n\nElayne wove a thunderclap. It burst from her, splitting the air, washing across the Guardswomen and making them cry out and cover their ears. Pain stabbed Elayne's head and she cursed, closing her eyes at the shock. And then... then she heard nothing.\n\nThat was the point.\n\nShe forced her eyes open to see Draghkar all around, with their spindly bodies and inhuman eyes. They opened their lips to croon, but Elayne's deafened ears could not hear the song. She smiled, then wove whips of fire, striking the creatures down. She could not hear their screeches of pain, which was a pity.\n\nElayne's Guardswomen rallied, rising from knees, lowering hands from ears. She could tell from their dazed looks that they had been deafened. Birgitte soon had them striking at the surprised Draghkar. Three of the creatures tried to leap up and flyaway, but Birgitte took each one with a white-fletched arrow, dropping the last so that it crashed into a nearby tent.\n\nElayne waved, getting Birgitte's attention. The first Draghkar sounds\n\nhadn't come from above, but from farther into camp. Elayne pointed, kicking Moonshadow into motion, leading her troops among the Seanchan. All about, men lay staring into the sky, mouths open. Many seemed to be breathing, but they stared with dead eyes. The Draghkar had consumed their souls, but left the bodies alive, like the crust cutoff a rich mans bread."
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sloppy. This group of Draghkar-Light, there were well over a hundred of them-could have taken a man each, killed him, then retreated before their presence was discovered. The distant roars of the battle-the bleating horns, the booming dragons, the hissing fireballs, all of which Elayne now felt but could only barely make outwith her broken ears-had covered the Draghkar attack. The creatures could have struck and fled, but they were greedy.\n\nHer guards scattered, hacking at the surprised Draghkar-many of whom were holding soldiers. The beasts were not strong fighters if measured by strength of arm. Elayne waited, preparing weaves. Those Draghkar who tried to flee, she burned from the sky.\n\nOnce the last of them were dead-at least, the ones they could see-Elayne waved Birgitte to approach. The air smelled sharply of burned flesh. Elayne wrinkled her nose, and reached down from horseback to take Birgitte's head in her hands, Healing the womans ears. The babes kicked as she did so. Did they react to times when she Healed someone, or was that her fancy? Elayne reached down to hold her stomach with one arm as Birgitte stepped back, looking about.\n\nThe Warder nocked an arrow, and Elayne felt her alarm. Birgitte loosed, and a Draghkar stumbled back from cover inside a nearby tent. A Seanchan stumbled out, eyes glassed over. The feeding had been interrupted halfway through; the poor fellow would never be right in the mind again.\n\nElayne turned her horse and saw some Seanchan troops charging into the area. Birgitte spoke to them, then turned to speak to Elayne. Elayne just shook her head, and Birgitte hesitated, then said something else to the Seanchan."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Elayne's guards grouped around her again, watching the Seanchan with distrust."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elayne understood the sentiment perfectly.\n\nBirgitte waved her forward, and they continued on in the direction they had been going. As they did, a damane and suVdam approached and-surprisingly-curtsied to Elayne. Perhaps this Fortuona had given them orders to respect foreign monarchs.\n\nElayne hesitated, but what was she going to do? She could return to her own camp for Healing, but that would take time, and it was urgent that she speak with Mat. What was the point of spending days drawing up war\n\nplans if he was going to throw them aside? She trusted him-Light, she had to-but she'd still rather know what he intended to do.\n\nShe sighed, then held out her foot to the damane. The woman frowned, then glanced to the suldam. Both seemed to take it as an insult. Elayne had certainly intended it as one.\n\nThe suldam nodded, and her damane reached to touch Elayne's leg just above her booted foot. Elayne's sturdy boots looked like something a soldier would wear, not a queen, but she didn't intend to ride into battle wearing slippers.\n\nA small icy shock of Healing ran through her, and her hearing returned slowly. The low pitches returned first. Explosions. The distant boom of dragonfire, the rush of the river nearby. Several Seanchan talking. Midranges came next, then a flood of sound. Flaps rustling, screams of soldiers, calls of horns.\n\n\"Tell them to Heal the others,\" Elayne said to Birgitte.\n\nBirgitte raised an eyebrow, probably wondering why Elayne wouldn't just give the order herself. Well, these Seanchan paid very close attention to which people could speak to one another. Elayne would not give them the honor of speaking to them directly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Birgitte relayed the order, and the suldam slips drew to a line. She had had the sides of her hair shaved; she was highborn. Light willing, Elayne had managed to insult her again.\n\n\"I will do it,\" the woman said. \"Though why any of you would want to be Healed by an animal is beyond me.\"\n\nThe Seanchan didn't believe in letting damane Heal. At least, that was what they kept claiming-that hadn't stopped them from reluctantly teaching the weaves to their captive women, now that they'd seen firsthand what an advantage it was in battle. From what Elayne had heard, the highborn rarely accepted that Healing, however.\n\n\"Let's go,\" Elayne said, riding forward. She waved for her soldiers to stay behind and be Healed.\n\nBirgitte eyed her, but did not object. The two of them hurried on, Birgitte mounting her horse and riding with Elayne toward the Seanchan command building. One story, perhaps the size of a small farmhouse, it satin a large, high-walled cleft at the southern base of Dashar Knob-they'd moved it from the top, as Mat worried it would be too exposed. The top would continue to be used for overseeing the battle at short intervals.\n\nElayne allowed Birgitte to help her dismount-Light, but she was starting to feel unwieldy. It was as if she were a ship in dry dock. She took a moment to properly compose herself. Smooth features, emotions in\n\ncontrol. She picked at her hair, straightened her dress, then walked into the building.\n\n\"What,\" she bellowed as she stepped in, \"in the name of a bloody, twofingered Trolloc haystack-grunter do you think you are doing, Matrim Cauthon?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Unsurprisingly, the curse made the man grin as he looked up from the map table. He wore his hat and coat over some very nice silken clothing that looked as if it had been tailored to match the hat's color, and to include tooled leather at the cuffs and collar so as to not be so out of place. It smelled of some kind of compromise. Why was his hat banded with pink ribbon, though?\n\n\"Hello, Elayne,\" Mat said. \"I figured that I could look forward to seeing you soon.\" He waved to a chair, bearing the red and gold of Andor, at the side of the room. It was extra cushioned, with a cup of warm tea steaming on the stand beside it.\n\nBurn you, Matrim Cauthon, she thought. When did you grow so clever?\n\nThe Seanchan Empress sat on her own throne at the head of the room, Min at her side, draped in enough green silk to supply a shop in Caemlyn for two weeks. Elayne did not miss the fact that Fortuona's throne was two fingers higher than Elayne's. Bloody insufferable woman. \"Mat. There are Draghkar in your camp.\"\n\n\"Burn it,\" he said. \"Where?\"\n\n\"I should say there were Draghkar in your camp,\" Elayne said. \"We dealt with them. You need to tell your archers to keep better watch.\"\n\n\"I've told them,\" Mat complained. \"Bloody ashes. Somebody check on the archers, I-\"\n\n\"Great Prince!\" a Seanchan messenger said, skidding through the doorway. He went to his knees, then prostrated himself with a smooth motion, never stopping his narrative. \"Archer bank is down! Hit by Sharan outriders-they masked their attack by smoke from fireballs.\""
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Blood and bloody ashes!\" Mat said. \"Send sixteen damane and sul'dam down there now! Send to the northern archery units and bring squads forty-two and fifty down. And tell the scouts I'll have them flogged if they let anything like this happen again.\"\n\n\"Great One,\" the scout said, saluting and scrambling to his feet, backing out of the room without looking up to avoid the risk of meeting Mat's gaze.\n\nAll in all, Elayne was impressed by how easily the scout mixed his obeisance and his report. She was also sickened. No ruler should demand such of her subjects. A nation's strength came from the strength of its people; break them, and you were breaking your own back.\n\n\"You knew I was coming,\" Elayne said after Mat gave a few more orders to his aides. \"And you anticipated the anger your changing of plans would cause. Burn you, Matrim Cauthon, why did you feel the need to do this? I thought our battle plan was sound.\"\n\n\"It was,\" Mat said.\n\n\"Then why change it!\"\n\n\"Elayne,\" Mat said, glancing at her. \"Everyone put me in charge, against my will, because I cant have my mind changed by the Forsaken, right?\" \"That was the general idea,\" Elayne said. \"Though I'd guess it has less to do with that medallion of yours and more to do with you having too thick ahead for Compulsion to penetrate.\"\n\n\"Bloody right,\" Mat said. \"Anyway, if the Forsaken are using Compulsion on people in our camps, they probably have a few spies in our meetings.\"\n\n\"I suppose so.\"\n\n\"So they know our plan. Our great plan, that we spent so long preparing. They know it.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elayne hesitated.\n\n\"Light!\" Mat said, shaking his head. \"The first and most important rule to winning a war is knowing what your enemy is going to do.\"\n\n\"I though the first rule was to know your terrain,\" Elayne said, folding her arms.\n\n\"That, too. Anyway, I realize that if the enemy knows what were going to do, we have to change. Immediately. Bad battle plans are better than ones your enemy will anticipate.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you guess this would happen?\" Elayne demanded.\n\nHe looked at her, expressionless. One side of his mouth twitched up, then he pulled his hat down, shading his eyepatch.\n\n\"Light,\" Elayne said. \"You knew. You spent this whole week planning with us, and you knew the entire time you'd throw it outwith the dishwater.\"\n\n\"That's giving me too much bloody credit,\" Mat said, looking back at his maps. \"I think apart of me might have known all along, but I didn't figure it out until just before the Sharans got here.\"\n\n\"So what is the new plan?\"\n\nHe didn't reply.\n\n\"You're going to keep it in your head,\" Elayne said, her legs feeling weak. \"You're going to lead the battle, and none of us are going to know what in the Light you're planning, are we? Otherwise, someone might overhear, and the news would travel to the Shadow.\"\n\nHe nodded.\n\n\"Creator shelter us,\" she whispered.\n\nMat scowled. \"You know, that's what Tuon said.\"\n\nOn the Heights, Uno held his ears as the nearby dragons belched fire at the Trollocs and Sharans west of them. The scent of something pungent burned in the air, and the blasts were so deafening, he couldn't hear his own bloody cursing."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Down below, Lan Mandragoran's riders were sweeping the sides of the assault force, keeping them contained so that the dragons could do more damage. The Sharans had Trollocs with them. They'd have channelers with them, too, lots of them. Farther upriver, another large army of Trollocs, the ones that had done so much damage to Dai Shan's forces, had comedown from the northeast, and would soon reach the Field of Merrilor.\n\nThe dragons stilled momentarily, the dragoners stuffing the maws again with whatever it was that made them work. Uno wasn't going to step bloody close to them. Bad luck, those were. He was certain of it.\n\nThe leader of the dragoners was a wiry Cairhienin, and Uno had never had much use for those folk. They bloody scowled at him whenever he talked. This one sat haughtily upon his horse, and didn't flinch when the dragons fired again.\n\nThe Amyrlin Seat had thrown her lot in with these men, and with the Seanchan, too. Uno wasn't going to flaming complain. They needed every sword they could get, Cairhienin and bloody Seanchan included.\n\n\"You like our dragons, Captain?\" the leader-Talmanes-called to Uno. Captain. Uno had bloody been promoted. He now led a force of newly recruited Tower pikemen and light cavalry.\n\nHe shouldn't have been in charge of bloody anything; he had been happy as a regular soldier. But he had both training and battle experience, things that were in slim supply these days, or so Queen Elayne had said. So now he was a flaming officer, and leading cavalry and foot soldiers no less! Well, he knew his way around a pike, if he had to use one, though he usually preferred to fight on horseback."
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "His men were ready to defend the rim of the Heights should the enemy make it up the slope. So far, the archers situated in front of the dragoners had prevented that, but soon enough, the archers would have to pullback, and then it would be bloody regular soldiers doing the bloody fighting. Below, the Sharans pulled aside to let the main Trolloc forces storm up onto the slope.\n\nThe pikemen would advance, resisting the Trolloc attack, and pikes would work well here, as the Trollocs would be pushing uphill. Add in some flaming cavalry on their flanks, and some bloody archers shooting through those gateways made high up in the air, and they could probably sit here for days. Maybe weeks. When they were pushed off by superior numbers, they'd let go inch by inch, clinging to every speck of ground.\n\nUno figured there was noway he was going to survive this flaming battle. He was surprised he'd made it this long. Really, flaming Masema should have had his head, or the Seanchan near Falme, or a Trolloc here and there. He had tried to keep himself lean so he'd taste flaming terrible when they stuffed him in one of those flaming cookpots.\n\nThe dragons fired again, blasting enormous holes in the hordes of advancing Trollocs. Uno clapped his hands to his ears. \"Warn a man when you do that, you flaming bits hanging from a goat's-\"\n\nThe next shot drowned him out.\n\nThe Trollocs below were blown into the air, the dragons pulverizing the ground beneath them. Those eggs exploded once they were shot from those cursed tubes. What kind of thing, other than the One Power, could make metal explode? Uno was certain he flaming didn't want to know."
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Talmanes stepped up to the rim of the Heights, inspecting the damage. He was joined by a Taraboner woman, the one who had invented these weapons. She looked over and saw Uno, then tossed him something. A small bit of wax. The Taraboner woman tapped her ear, then began speaking with Talmanes, gesturing. He might have command of the troops, but the woman had charge of the devices. She told the men whereto position the dragons to fight.\n\nUno grumbled, but pocketed the wax. A fist of Trollocs had pushed through the blast, about a hundred strong, and he didn't have time to bother with his ears. Uno grabbed a pike, leveling it and signaling for his men to do the same. They all wore the white of the Tower; Uno himself wore a white tabard.\n\nHe shouted orders, readying his pike by standing sideways near the top of the slope, the heel of its shaft raised. One hand gripped the shaft in front of him to guide and reinforce the thrust; the other hand, palm down, gripping it an arm's length from the heel, would drive home the thrust as the Trollocs came into range. Several ranks of pikemen behind Uno stood ready to advance following the initial impact.\n\n\"Steady with the pikes, you flaming sheepherders!\" Uno bellowed. \"Steady!\"\n\nThe Trollocs scrambled up the hill, crashing into the line of pikes. The beasts in the vanguard tried to knock the pikes aside with sweeps of their weapons, but Uno's men stepped forward, skewering Trollocs, often two pikes per beast. Uno grunted, pulling his pike back into line to catch a Trolloc through the throat.\n\nFirst rank, back!\" Uno yelled, pulling his pike backward to free it from the Trolloc he'd killed. His companions did the same, pulling their weapons free and leaving the corpses to roll down the slope."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The pikemen in the front rank fell back as those in the second rank came forward between them, ramming pikes into snarling Trollocs. Each rank rotated upfront in succession until, minutes later, the entire group of Trollocs was dead. \"Nice work,\" Uno said, raising his pike to the upright position, a trickle of rancid Trolloc blood winding down the shaft from the pike head. \"Nice work.\"\n\nHe glanced toward the dragoners, who were feeding more eggs down those tubes. He hastily pulled the wax out of his pocket. Yes, they could hold this flaming position. They could hold it well. They just needed to-A cry from above stopped him from putting the wax in. Something thumped to the ground beside Uno. A lead ball with streamers dropped from high up. \"Flaming Seanchan goat!\" Uno yelled, looking up and shaking his fist. \"That nearly took me in the crown, you lover of rotting worms!\" The raken flew off, probably without its rider hearing a word of what Uno had shouted. Bloody Seanchan. He stooped down, removing the letter from the ball.\n\nRetreat down the southwestern slope of the Heights.\n\n\"You're bloody kicking me,\" Uno muttered. \"Kicking me in the head while I'm sleeping. Allin, you bloody fool, can you read this?\"\n\nAllin, a dark-haired Andorman, wore a half-beard, shaved at the sides. Uno had always thought those looked flaming ridiculous.\n\n\"Retreat?\" Allin said. \"Now?\"\n\n\"They've flaming lost their minds,\" Uno said.\n\nNearby, Talmanes and the Taraboner woman were receiving a messenger-and she was relaying the same news, by the looks of the Taraboner woman's scowl. Retreat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Cauthon had better bloody know what he's doing,\" Uno said, shaking his head. He still didn't understand why anyone would put Cauthon in charge of anything. He remembered that boy, always snapping at people, eyes sunken in his head. Half-dead, half-spoiled. Uno shook his head.\n\nBut he'd do it. He'd sworn to the bloody White Tower. So he'd do it. \"Pass the word,\" he said to Allin, stuffing the wax in his ears as Aludra, at the dragons, prepared a last volley before leaving. \"We're pulling back from the bloody Heights, and-\"\n\nA clap of sound hit Uno physically, vibrating through him, bloody near stopping his heart. His head hit the ground before he realized he'd fallen.\n\nHe blinked dust from his eyes, groaning and rolling over as another flash, then another, struck the Heights where the dragons were. Lightning! His soldiers were down on their knees, eyes shut, hands over ears. Talmanes was already up, however, shouting orders that Uno could barely hear, waving for his men to pullback.\n\nA dozen fireballs, enormous and incredibly fast, rose from the Sharan army behind the Trollocs. Uno cursed and threw himself in a depression for cover, rolling into place moments before the entire hill shook like an earthquake. Clods of earth fell upon him, almost burying him.\n\nEverything was coming at them. Everything. Every bloody Sharan channeler in the army seemed to focus on the Heights at once. His people had Aes Sedai, placed to protect the dragons, but from the look of things they would be hard-pressed to fightback against that\\\n\nThe attack lasted for what seemed an eternity. When it subsided, Uno crawled free. Some of the flaming dragons were in pieces, and Aludra was working with the dragoners to salvage those and protect the rest. Talmanes, holding a bloody hand to his head, was shouting. Uno pried the wax from one of his ears-that had probably saved his hearing-and scrambled toward Talmanes."
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where are your bloody Aes Sedai?\" Uno shouted. \"They're bloody supposed to be stopping this!\"\n\nThey had four dozen of them, ordered to cut weaves from the air or knock them aside to protect the dragons. They had claimed to be able to keep the Heights safe from anything but the coming of the Dark One. Now they were in shambles, the lightning strikes having fallen in their midst.\n\nTrollocs were advancing up the hill again. Uno ordered Allin to form the pikewall and hold the creatures back, then ran toward the Aes Sedai with a few guards. He joined Warders, helping the women up, looking for their leader.\n\n\"Kwamesa Sedai?\" Uno asked, finding the Aes Sedai in charge who was dusting herself off. The slender, dark-skinned Arafellin was muttering softly under her breath.\n\n\"What was that?\" she demanded.\n\n\"Uh...\" Uno said.\n\n\"That question wasn't intended for you,\" she said, scanning the sky. \"Einar! Why didn't you spot those weaves?\"\n\nAn Asha'man rushed over. \"They came so quickly. They were upon us before I had time to give warning. And... Light! Whoever sent them was strong. Stronger than I've ever seen, stronger than-\"\n\nAline of light split the air behind them. It was enormous, as long as the keep of Fal Dara. It rotated upon itself, opening avast gateway that split the ground at the center of the Heights. Standing on the other side was a man in brilliant armor made of silver, coinlike rings, his helmetless head bearing dark hair and a strong nose. He held before him a scepter of gold, the top shaped like an hourglass or a fine goblet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Kwamesa reacted immediately, raising her hand and releasing a stream of fire."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man waved his hand, and the stream of fire deflected; then he pointed-almost indifferently-and something thin, hot and white connected him to Kwamesa. Her form glowed, and then she was gone, motes drifting toward the ground.\n\nUno jumped away, Einar joining him as he rolled behind the rubble of a broken dragon.\n\n\"I come for the Dragon Reborn!\" the figure in silver announced. \"You will send for him. Either that, or I will see that your screams bring him.\"\n\nThe ground beneath the dragons heaved into the air just a few feet from Uno. He threw his arm up in front of his face, bits of wood and soil flying across him.\n\n\"Light help us,\" Einar said. \"I'm trying to stop him, but he's in a circle. A full circle. Seventy-two. I've never seen such power before! I-\"\n\nA bar of white-hot light cut through the broken dragon, vaporizing it and striking Einar. The man was gone in an instant, and Uno scrambled back, cursing. He ducked away as the wreckage of dragons crashed to the ground around him.\n\nUno yelled for his men to fallback, whipping them into motion, delaying only long enough to grab a wounded man under the arm and help him away. He no longer questioned the order to retreat from the Heights. It was the finest bloody order any man had ever given!\n\nLogain Ablar released the One Power. He stood beside the Mora, below the Heights, and felt the attacks up above.\n\nReleasing the One Power today was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done. More difficult than the decision to name himself Dragon, more difficult than keeping himself from strangling Taim during their early days together in the Black Tower."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Power drained out of him, as if his veins had been opened and he was bleeding out across the ground."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He took a deep breath. Holding that much of the One Power-that of thirty-nine people in a circle-had been intoxicating. Letting go reminded him of his gentling, when the Power had been stolen from him. When every breath had encouraged him to find a knife and slit his own throat.\n\nHe suspected this was his madness: the terror that releasing the One Power would cause him to lose it forever.\n\n\"Logain?\" Androl asked.\n\nLogain turned his head toward the shorter man and his companions. They were loyal. Logain didn't know why, but they were loyal. The whole lot of them. Fools. Faithful fools.\n\n\"Can you feel that?\" Androl asked. The others-Canler, Emarin, Jonneth-were staring at the Heights. The Power being released there... it was amazing.\n\n\"Demandred,\" Emarin said. \"It must be him.\"\n\nLogain nodded slowly. Such power... Even one of the Forsaken could not be so strong. He must carry a sa'angreal of immense strength.\n\nWith such a tool, his thoughts whispered, no manor woman could ever take the Power from you again.\n\nTaim had done it, during Logain's imprisonment. Held him captive, shielded, unable to touch the One Power. The attempts to Turn him had been painful, crushing. But being without saidin...\n\nStrength, he thought, watching that powerful channeling. The lust to be so strong almost drowned out his hatred of Taim.\n\n\"For now, we will not engage him,\" Logain said. \"Split yourselves into the prearranged teams.\" Those would be one woman and five or six men in each team. The woman and two men could form a circle, while the other two offered support. \"We will hunt the traitors of the Black Tower.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pevara, standing at Androl's side, raised an eyebrow. \"You mean to go hunting Taim already? Didn't Cauthon want you hereto help move men?\"\n\n\"I've made it clear to Cauthon,\" Logain said. \"I will not spend this battle delivering soldiers around the field. As for orders, we have a directive from the Dragon Reborn himself.\"\n\nRand al'Thor had called them his'last\" orders for them, a note delivered with a small angreal of a man holding a sword. The Shadow has stolen the seals of the Dark One's prison. Find them. If you can, please find them.\n\nDuring their captivity, Androl had heard what he thought was Taim bragging about the seals. It was their only lead. Logain scanned the distance. Their forces were retreating from the Heights. Logain could not seethe array of dragons from where he stood, but the thick lines of smoke did not speak well for their safety.\n\nHe still gives orders, Logain thought. Am I inclined to obey them any longer?\n\nFor the chance at revenge on Taim? Yes, he would follow Rand al'Thor's orders. Once he wouldn't have questioned doing so nearly as much. That had been before his captivity and torture.\n\n\"Go,\" Logain said to his Asha'man. \"You have read what the Lord Dragon wrote. We must recover the seals at all costs. Nothing is more important than this. We must hope that Taim indeed has them. Watch for signs of men channeling, hunt them, kill them.\"\n\nIt didn't matter if those men channeling were Sharans. The Asha'man would help this battle by removing enemy channelers anyway. They had discussed the tactic earlier. When they sensed channeling from men, they could use gateway jumps to pinpoint where they were, then try to surprise them and attack."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If you see one of Taim's men,\" Logain said, \"try to capture him so we can pry out of him where Taim has setup his base.\" He paused. \"If we're lucky, the M'Hael himself will be here. Be wary that he might be carrying the seals; it would not do to destroy them in our attack. If you see him, return and bring me word of his location.\"\n\nLogain's teams moved off. They left him with Gabrelle, Arel Malevin and Karldin Manfor. It was well that at least some of his more skilled men had been absent from the Tower during Taim's betrayal.\n\nGabrelle looked at Logain with level eyes. \"What of Toveine?\" she asked.\n\n\"We will kill her if we find her.\"\n\n\"It is that simple for you?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"She-\"\n\n\"Would you rather live, Gabrelle, if you were she? Live and serve him?\"\n\nShe closed her mouth, lips drawn tight. She still feared him; he could sense that. Good.\n\nWas this what you wished for, his mind whispered, when you raised the banner of the Dragon? When you sought to save mankind? Did you do it to be feared? Hated?\n\nHe ignored that voice. The only times he had accomplished anything in life had come when he'd been feared. It was the only edge he'd had against Siuan and Leane. The primal Logain, that something deep inside that drove him to keep living, needed people to fear him.\n\n\"Can you sense her?\" Gabrelle asked.\n\n\"I released the bond.\"\n\nHer envy was sharp and immediate. It shocked him. He had thought that she was beginning to enjoy, or at least suffer, their place together."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But, of course, it was all an act so that she could try to manipulate him. That was the Aes Sedai way. Yes, he had felt lust from her before, perhaps even affection. He wasn't certain he could trust what he thought he'd felt from her. It seemed that for all he had tried to be strong and free, his strings had been pulled since he'd been a youngling.\n\nDemandred's channeling radiated strength. Such power.\n\nAloud boom sounded from the Heights. Logain laughed, throwing his head back. Bodies, like leaves, were thrown off the Heights and into the air.\n\n\"Link tome!\" he commanded those who remained with him. \"Join me in a circle, and let us hunt the M'Hael and his men as well. Light send that I can find him-my table deserves only the finest of meat, the head stag himself!\"\n\nAnd after that... Who knew? He had always wanted to test himself against one of the Forsaken. Logain seized the Source again, holding to the thrashings of saidin as if it were a serpent writhing and trying to bite him. He used his angreal to draw more, and then the Power from the others streamed into him. He laughed louder.\n\nGawyn felt so tired. This week of preparation would normally have rested him, but he felt today as if he'd hiked for tens of leagues.\n\nThere was no helping it. He forced his attention toward the gateway in the table in front of him, overlooking the battlefield. \"You're certain they cannot see this?\" he asked Yukiri.\n\n\"I'm certain,\" she replied. \"It has been tested exhaustively.\"\n\nShe was becoming skilled with these viewing gateways. She had created this one on top of a table brought through to their camp from Tar Valon. He was looking down at the battleground as he would a map."
},
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"value": "\"If you have truly made the other side invisible,\" Egwene said speculatively, \"this might be useful indeed...\"\n\n\"It would be easier to spot from up close,\" Yukiri admitted. \"This one is so high in the sky that nobody below will be able to make it out.\"\n\nGawyn didn't like Egwene standing there, head and shoulders hanging out over the battlefield. He held his tongue; the gateway was as safe as they could make it. He couldn't protect her from everything.\n\n\"Light,\" Bryne said softly, \"they're cutting us to pieces.\"\n\nGawyn glanced at him. The man rebuffed suggestions-even strong ones-that he return to his estates. He insisted that he was still capable of\n\nholding a sword; he just couldn't be allowed to lead. Besides, he argued, any of them could be under Compulsion. Ina way, knowing that he was gave them an advantage. At least him they could watch.\n\nAnd Siuan did, holding to his arm protectively. The only others in the tent were Silviana and Doesine.\n\nThe battle was not going well. Cauthon had lost the Heights already-the original plan had been to hold there as long as possible-and the dragons were in pieces. Demandred s attack with the One Power had come far more powerfully than any of them had anticipated. And the other large Trolloc army had arrived from the northeast and were pressing Cauthon's defenders upriver.\n\n\"What is he planning?\" Egwene said, tapping the side of the table. Distant yells drifted through the opening. \"If this keeps up, our armies are going to be surrounded.\"\n\n\"He's trying to bait the trap,\" Bryne said."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What kind of trap?\"\n\n\"It is a guess,\" Bryne said, \"and Light knows, my own assessment cannot be trusted as it once was. It looks like Cauthon is planning to heap everything into one battle, no delaying, no trying to wear the Trollocs down. The way this is going, it will be decided in days. Maybe hours.\"\n\n\"That sounds exactly like something Mat would do,\" Egwene said, resigned.\n\n\"The strength of those weaves,\" Lelaine said, \"that power...\" \"Demandred is in a circle,\" Egwene said. \"Eyewitnesses say a full circle. Something that hasn't been seen since the Age of Legends. And he has a sa'angreal. Some of the soldiers saw it-a scepter.\"\n\nGawyn watched the fighting far below, his hand on his sword. He could hear men scream as Demandred aimed wave after wave of fire at them.\n\nThe Forsaken's voice boomed, suddenly, reaching high into the air. \"Where are you, Lews Therin! You were seen at each of the other battlefields in disguise. Are you here, too? Fight me!\"\n\nGawyn's hand tightened on his sword. Soldiers flooded down the southwestern side of the Heights, to cross the ford. A few small groups held on the slopes, and dragoners there-tiny as insects to Gawyn-led the remaining dragons to safety, pulled by mules.\n\nDemandred flung destruction at the fleeing troops. He was an army unto himself, hurling bodies into the air, exploding horses, burning and destroying. Around him, his Trollocs seized the high ground. Their brutish cheers floated through the gateway.\n\n\"We're going to have to deal with him, Mother,\" Silviana said. \"Soon.\""
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "\"He's trying to draw us out,\" Egwene said. \"He has that sa'angreal. We could build a circle of seventy-two ourselves, but what then? Fall into his trap? Be slaughtered?\"\n\n\"What choice have we, Mother?\" Lelaine asked. \"Light. He's killing thousands.\"\n\nKilling thousands. And here they stood.\n\nGawyn stepped back.\n\nNobody seemed to notice his withdrawal other than Yukiri, who eagerly stepped up and took his place beside Egwene. Gawyn slipped out of the tent, and when the tent guards glanced at him, said he needed some fresh air. Egwene would approve. She sensed how tired he was lately; she'd mentioned it to him several times. His eyelids felt as if they had weights of iron pulling them down. Gawyn looked toward the blackened sky He could hear the distant booms. How long would he just stand around and do nothing while men died?\n\nYou promised, he thought to himself. You said you were willing to stand in her shadow.\n\nThat didn't mean he had to stop doing important work, did it? He fished in his pouch and took out a ring of the Bloodknives. He put it on, and immediately his strength returned, his exhaustion fleeing.\n\nHe hesitated, then took out the other rings and slipped them on as well.\n\nOn the south bank of the River Mora, in front of the ruins northeast of Dashar Knob, Tam al'Thor summoned the void as Kimtin had taught him all of those years ago. Tam imagined the single flame, and poured his emotions into it. He grew calm, then the calmness left him, leaving nothing. Like a newly painted wall, beautiful and white, that had just been washed. Everything melted away."
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"value": "Tam was the void. He drew his bow, the good black yew bending, arrow to his cheek. He took aim, but this was only a formality. When he was this strongly within the void, the arrow would do exactly as he commanded. He didn't know this, anymore than the sun knew that it would rise or the branches knew that their leaves would fall. These were not things known\\ they were things that were.\n\nHe released, bowstring snapping, arrow drilling through the air. Another followed, then another. He had five in the air at once, each one aimed in anticipation of the shifting winds.\n\nThe first five Trollocs fellas they tried to make their way across one of several of the raft bridges they had managed to place on the river here. Trollocs\n\nhated water; even shallow water daunted them. Whatever Mat had done to protect the river upstream, it was working for now, and the river was still flowing. The Shadow would try to stop it. Was trying to stop it. Occasionally a Trolloc or mule carcass floated past from far upriver.\n\nTam continued to launch arrows, Abell and the other Two Rivers men joining him. Sometimes they aimed into the mass, not picking out an individual Trolloc-though that was rare. A regular soldier might shoot unsighted and assume his arrow would find flesh, but not a good Two Rivers archer. Arrows were cheap to soldiers, but not to woodsmen.\n\nTrollocs fell in waves. Beside Tam and the Two Rivers men, crossbowmen cranked their weapons and loosed wave after wave into the Shadowspawn. Fades behind whipped at the Trollocs, trying to urge them across the river-with little success.\n\nTam's arrow hit a Fade right where its eyes should have been. Nearby, a large man named Bayrd whistled in appreciation, leaning on his axe and watching the arrows fall. He was part of the group of soldiers set just behind the archers to move in and protect them, once the Trollocs were forced to cross."
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"value": "Bayrd was one of the mercenary leaders who had drifted into the army, and though he was an Andoran, neither he nor the hundred or so men he led would speak of where they'd come from. \"I need to get one of those bows,\" Bayrd said to his companions. \"Burn me, do you see that?\"\n\nNearby, Abell and Azi smiled, continuing to shoot. Tam did not smile. There was no humor within the void, though outside of the void, a thought did flutter. Tam knew why Abell and Azi had smiled. Having a Two Rivers bow did not make one into a Two Rivers archer.\n\n\"I think,\" Galad Damodred said from horseback nearby, \"that you'd likely do more harm to yourself than to the enemy, should you try to use one of those. Al'Thor, how long?\"\n\nTam released another arrow. \"Five more,\" he said, reaching for the next arrow in his side quiver. He raised it, shot it, then continued. Two, three, four, five.\n\nFive more Trollocs dead. In all, he'd loosed over thirty arrows. He'd missed once, but only because Abell had killed the Trolloc that Tam had aimed for.\n\n\"Archers, halt!\" Tam yelled.\n\nThe Two Rivers men pulled back, Tam releasing the void, as a straggling group of Trollocs stumbled onto the riverbank. Tam still led Perrins troops, to an extent. Whitecloaks, Ghealdanin and the Wolf Guard all looked to Tam for final say, but each had their own leaders as well. He personally commanded the archers.\n\nPerrin, youd better heal up strong. When Haral had found the boy lying in the grass on the outskirts of camp the day before, bloodied and near death... Light, that had given them all a fright."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Perrin was safely in Mayene, where he would likely spend the rest of the Last Battle."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A man didn't quickly recover from the type of wound the lad had taken, even with Aes Sedai Healing. It would probably drive Perrin near mad to miss the fighting, but sometimes that happened. It was part of being a soldier.\n\nTam and the archers retreated back to the ruins to get a better vantage to watch the battle, and he organized his archers in case they were needed while runners brought them more arrows. Mat had positioned all of Perrin's troops alongside the Dragonsworn, led by Tinna, a statuesque woman. Tam had no idea where she'd come from or why she was in command-she had the bearing of a lady, the build of an Aiel and the coloring of a Saldaean. The others seemed to listen to her. Dragonsworn made little sense to Tam, so he stayed out of their way.\n\nTam's army had been told to hold. Mat had expected the Sharan and Trolloc attack from the west to be the strongest; therefore Tam was surprised to see Mat sending more reinforcements upriver from the ford. The Whitecloaks were a recent arrival, and their clothing rippled as they charged along the riverbank, cutting through the Trollocs stumbling off their unstable bridges.\n\nArrows started to fly from the Trollocs on the other bank toward Galad and his men. The clanks and pings of arrowheads on the Whitecloak armor and shields sounded like hail on a roof. Tam ordered Arganda to bring in their foot soldiers, including Bayrd and the mercenaries.\n\nThey didn't have enough pikes, so Arganda's men held halberds and spears. Men began to scream and die, Trollocs howling. Near Tam's rearward position, Alliandre came riding up, surrounded by well-armed foot soldiers. Tam raised the bow to her, and she nodded, then settled back to watch. She had wanted to be here for the battle. Tam couldn't blame her, nor could he blame her for ordering her soldiers to carry her off at the first sign that this battle was turning against them."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tam! Tam!\" Dannil came riding up, and Tam waved for Abell to take command of the archers. He strode over to Dannil, meeting the lad in the shade of the ruins.\n\nInside those broken walls, Tam's reserves watched the battle with nervousness. Most of them were archers pulled from among the mercenaries and Dragonsworn. Many of that latter group had never been in battle before. Well, neither had most of the Two Rivers men until a few months\n\nback. They'd learn quickly. Hitting a Trolloc with an arrow wasn't so different from hitting a deer.\n\nThough, if you missed the deer, it didn't gut you with a sword a few seconds later.\n\n\"What is it, Dannil?\" Tam asked. \"Word from Mat?\"\n\n\"He's sending you infantry banners from the Legion of the Dragon,\" Dannil said. \"He says to hold the river here, no matter what.\"\n\n\"What is that boy up to?\" Tam said, looking toward the Heights. The Legion of the Dragon had good infantry, well-trained crossbowmen who would be useful here. But what was happening on the Heights?\n\nThe flashes of light reflected off columns of thick black smoke, rising from the Heights toward the clouds above. The fighting was in earnest up there.\n\n\"I don't know, Tam,\" Dannil said. \"Mat... he's changed. I hardly think I know him any longer. He was always a bit of a scoundrel, but now... Light, Tam. He's like someone from one of the stories.\"\n\nTam grunted. \"We've all changed. Mat would probably say similar things about you.\"\n\nDannil laughed. \"Oh, I doubt that, Tam. Though I do wonder, sometimes, what would have happened if I'd gone with the three of them. I mean, Moiraine Sedai was looking for boys the right age, and I guess I was just a little too old...\""
},
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He seemed wistful. Dannil could say, and think, what he wanted-but Tam doubted he would have liked to endure the things that had forced Mat, Perrin and Rand to become the people they now were. \"Take command of this lot,\" Tam said, nodding to the reserve archers. \"I'll see that Arganda and Galad know we're being reinforced.\"\n\nThick Trolloc arrows sprayed around Pevara as she desperately wove Air. Her gust blew away the arrows like stones swept off the board by a furious player. Sweating, she clung to saidar and wove a stronger shield of Air, moving it into the sky to defend against further volleys.\n\n\"It's safe!\" she yelled. \"Go!\"\n\nA group of soldiers dashed out from underneath an overhang on the steep riverside slope of the Heights. More thick black shafts fell from above. They hither shield; it slowed them to the point that once they passed through, they dropped as idly as feathers.\n\nThe soldiers she'd helped dashed for the rallying point at Hawal Ford. Others decided to stand and fight as Trolloc bands poured down the slopes.\n\nMost of the Shadowspawn stayed atop the Heights to secure the position, and finish pushing humans off.\n\nWhere? Androl's furious thought came to her, a soft whisper inside her mind.\n\nHere, she sent him. Not completely a thought, more an image, a sense of place.\n\nA gateway split beside her, and he dashed through, Emarin on his heels. Both men carried swords, but Emarin spun and thrust his hand backward, a streak of fire shooting through the open gateway. Screaming sounded from the other side. Human screaming.\n\n\"You went all the way to the Sharan army?\" Pevara demanded. \"Logain wanted us to stay together!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"So you care about what he wants, now?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Androl asked, grinning.\n\nYou're insufferable, she thought. Around them, arrows clattered to the ground. The Trollocs above hooted in anger.\n\n\"Nice weave,\" Androl said.\n\n\"Thank you.\" She glanced at the sword.\n\n\"I'm a Warder now.\" He shrugged. \"Might as well look like one, eh?\"\n\nHe could cut a Trolloc in half with a gateway at three hundred paces, and summon fire from inside Dragonmount itself, and he still wanted to carry a sword. It was, she decided, a male thing.\n\n/ heard that, Androl sent her. \"Emarin, tome. Pevara Sedai, if you'd graciously agree to accompany us...\"\n\nShe sniffed, but joined the other two as they moved along the southwestern base of the Heights, passing some wounded stumbling toward the rallying point. Androl glanced at them, then wove a gateway back to their camp. The flagging men cried out in surprise and thanks, and shambled through it to safety.\n\nAndrol had grown... more confident since they had left the Black Tower. When they'd first met, he'd displayed hesitation about whatever he did. A kind of nervous humility. No more.\n\n\"Androl. .\" Emarin said, pointing up the slope with his sword.\n\n\"I see them,\" Androl said. Above, Trollocs poured over the top of the Heights like pitch boiling over the side of a pot. Behind, Androl's gateway closed, that group of soldiers safe. Others cried out as they saw it close.\n\nYou can't save them all, Pevara thought sternly to Androl, sensing his spike of anguish. Stay focused on the task at hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The three of them moved through the soldiers, angling toward several channelers they could feel ahead. Jonneth, Canler and Theodrin were there, throwing fire at groups of Trollocs. Their position was being overrun.\n\n\"Jonneth, Canler, tome,\" Androl said, charging past them and opening a gateway in front of him. Pevara and Emarin ducked through after him, finding themselves on the top of the Heights, a few hundred paces away.\n\nJonneth and the others followed, joining them as the group dashed pasta group of startled Trollocs.\n\n\"Channeling!\" Pevara yelled. Light, but it was hard to run in these skirts. Androl did know that, didn't he?\n\nAndrol opened another gateway for them as a few bursts of flame came from the direction of some Sharans atop the Heights. Pevara ran through, beginning to pant. They appeared on the other side of the Sharans, who were firing at where Pevara had been moments before.\n\nPevara opened her senses, trying to spot-or feel-their quarry. The Sharans turned on them and pointed, but then cried out as Androl brought an avalanche of snow down on them from a gateway to the side. He had tried making those Deathgates that the other Asha'man used, but the weave was apparently just different enough that he had trouble. Instead, he stuck to what he was good at doing.\n\nGroups of Tower Guards still fought atop the Heights, holding ground against orders. Pieces of the dragons, including the large bronze firing tubes, lay smoldering nearby amid burned corpses. Thousands upon thousands of Trollocs howled, most at the edges of the Heights, loosing arrows on those below. Their joyous roars set Pevara on edge, and she wove Earth and sent the flows toward the ground near a group of them. A large chunk of ground trembled, then split off, dumping two dozen Trollocs over the edge."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We're drawing attention again!\" Emarin said, setting ablaze a Myrddraal that had been slinking toward them. It thrashed in the flames, screeching in an inhuman voice, refusing to die. Sweating, Pevara lent her Fire to Emarin's, burning the creature until it was nothing more than bones.\n\n\"Well, that's not all bad!\" Androl said. \"If we draw enough attention, sooner or later, one of the Black Ajah or one of Taim's men will decide to confront us.\"\n\nJonneth cursed. \"That's a little like jumping into an anthill and waiting to be bitten!\"\n\n\"Actually, it's a lot like that,\" Androl said. \"Keep watch. I'll deal with the Trollocs!\"\n\nThat's quite a strong assertion, Pevara sent to him.\n\nHis answer was warm, like heat off a cooking plate. It sounded heroic.\n\nI assume you could use some added strength?\n\nYes, please, he sent.\n\nShe iniated the link. He drew in her strength, taking control of their circle. As always, linking with him was an overwhelming experience. She felt her own emotions bounce back against him and to her again, and that made her blush. Did he sense how she was starting to regard him?\n\nFoolish as a girl in knee-length skirts, she thought at herself-careful to shield her thoughts from him-barely old enough to know the difference between boys and girls. And in the middle of a war, too.\n\nShe found it hard to steel her emotions-as an Aes Sedai should-while linked with Androl. Their selves mixed, like swirling paints poured in the same bowl. She fought against it, determined to maintain her own identity. This was vital when linking, and she had been taught it time and time again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Androl flung his hand forward at a group of Trollocs that had begun loosing arrows at him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The gateway went up, consuming the arrows. She glanced about, and found them falling on another group of Trollocs.\n\nGateways opened in the ground, dropping Trollocs through, making them appear hundreds of feet in the air. A tiny gateway split the head off a Myrddraal at the neck, leaving it to thrash about, pumping inky blood on the soil. Androl's team stood near the western section of the Heights, where the dragons had once been positioned. There were Shadowspawn and Sharans on all sides.\n\nAndrol, channeling! She could feel it, rising above them on the Heights. Something powerful.\n\nTaim! Androl's immediate flare of anger felt as if it would burn her away. In it was the loss of friends, and fury at betrayal by one who should have protected them.\n\nCareful, she sent. We don't know it's him.\n\nThe one attacking them was in a circle with men and women, otherwise Pevara would not have been able to feel him. Of course, she could only seethe weaves of saidar. A thick column of air struck at them, fully apace wide, the heat of it enough to redden the rocky ground beneath.\n\nAndrol put a gateway up in time, barely, catching the column of fire and directing it back the way it had come. Twin streams burned Trolloc corpses and caused weeds and patches of grass to burst alight.\n\nPevara didn't see what happened next. Androl's gateway vanished, as if ripped from him, and an explosion of lightning struck right next to them. Pevara hit the ground in a heap, Androl slamming into her.\n\nIn that moment, she let goof herself.\n\nShe did it by accident because of the shock of impact. Inmost cases, the link would have slipped away, but Androl had a powerful grip. The dam holding back Pevara's self from his own broke, and they mixed. It was like stepping through a mirror, then looking back on herself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She forcibly pulled herself out again, but with an awareness she couldn't describe. We need to get out of here, she thought, still linked with Androl. The others all seemed alive, but that would not last long if their enemy brought more lightning. Pevara began the complex weave fora gateway by instinct, though it wouldn't do anything. Androl was leading their circle, so only he-The gateway snapped open. Pevara gaped. She'd done that, not him. This was among the most complex, most difficult and most power-intensive weaves she knew, but she'd done it as easily as waving her hand. While in a circle someone else was leading.\n\nTheodrin stumbled through first. The lithe Domani woman tugged a stumbling Jonneth after her through the gateway. Emarin followed, limping, one arm hanging uselessly at his side.\n\nAndrol regarded the gateway, stunned. \"I thought you aren't supposed to be able to channel if someone else is leading a circle you are in.\"\n\n\"You aren't,\" she said. \"I did it by accident.\"\n\n\"Accident? But-\"\n\n\"Through the gateway, you knothead,\" Pevara said, shoving him toward it. She followed, then collapsed on the other side.\n\n\"Damodred, I need you to stay where you are,\" Mat said. He did not lookup, but he heard Galad s horse snort through the open gateway.\n\n\"One is led to question your sanity, Cauthon,\" Galad replied.\n\nMat finally looked up from his maps. He was not sure he would ever grow accustomed to these gateways. He stood in their command building, the one Tuon had erected in the cleft at the foot of Dashar Knob, and there was a gateway in his wall. Outside it Galad sat his horse wearing the gold and white of the Children of the Light. He was still positioned near the ruins, where a Trolloc army was trying to push its way across the Mora."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Galad Damodred was a man who could have used a few stiff drinks in him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could have been a statue, with that pretty face and unchanging expression. No, statues had more life.\n\n\"You'll do as you're told,\" Mat said, looking back to his maps. \"You are to hold the river up there and do as Tam tells you. I don't care if you think your place isn't important enough.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Galad said, voice as cold as a corpse in the snow. He turned his horse away, and Mika the damane closed the gateway.\n\n\"It's a bloodbath out there, Mat,\" Elayne said. Light, her voice was colder than Galad's!\n\n\"You all put me in charge. Let me do my job.\"\n\n\"We made you commander of the armies,\" Elayne said. \"You are not in charge.\"\n\nTrust an Aes Sedai to argue over every little word. It.... He looked up, frowning. Min had just said something softly to Tuon. \"What is it?\" he asked.\n\n\"I saw his body alone, on afield,\" Min said, \"as if dead.\"\n\n\"Matrim,\" Tuon said. \"I am... concerned.\"\n\n\"For once we agree,\" Elayne said from her throne on the other side of the room. \"Mat, their general is outmatching you.\"\n\n\"It's not so bloody simple,\" Mat said, fingers on the maps. \"It's never that bloody simple.\"\n\nThe man leading the Shadow was good. Very good. It's Demandred, Mat thought. I'm fighting one of the bloody Forsaken.\n\nTogether, Mat and Demandred were composing a grand painting. Each responded to the other's moves with subtle care. Mat was trying to use just a little too much red in one of his paints. He wanted to paint the wrong picture, but still a reasonable one."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was hard. He had to be capable enough to keep Demandred back, but weak enough to invite aggression. A feint, ever so subtle. It was dangerous, possibly disastrous. He had to walk on a razor edge. There was noway to avoid cutting his feet. The question was not whether he would be bloodied, but whether he would reach the other side or not.\n\n\"Move in the Ogier,\" Mat said softly, fingers on the map. \"I want them to reinforce the men at the ford.\" The Aiel fought there, guarding the way as the White Tower's men and the members of the Band of the Red Hand retreated off the Heights per his order.\n\nThe command was relayed to the Ogier. Stay safe, Loial, Mat thought, making a notation on the map where he had sent the Ogier. \"Alert Lan, he's still on the western side of the Heights. I want him to swing around the back of the Heights, now that most of the Shadow's forces are on top, and back toward the Mora, behind the other Trolloc army trying to cross near the ruins. He's not to engage them; just stay out of sight and hold his position.\"\n\nThe messengers ran to do his bidding, and he made another notation. One of the so'jhin brought him some kaf the cute one with the freckles. He was too absorbed by the battle to smile at her.\n\nSipping his kaf Mat had the damane make him a gateway on the table-top so he could seethe battlefield itself. He leaned out over it, but kept one hand on the rim of the table. Only a bloody fool would let someone shove him through a hole two hundred feet over the ground."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 8"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was hard. He had to be capable enough to keep Demandred back, but weak enough to invite aggression. A feint, ever so subtle. It was dangerous, possibly disastrous. He had to walk on a razor edge. There was noway to avoid cutting his feet. The question was not whether he would be bloodied, but whether he would reach the other side or not.\n\n\"Move in the Ogier,\" Mat said softly, fingers on the map. \"I want them to reinforce the men at the ford.\" The Aiel fought there, guarding the way as the White Tower's men and the members of the Band of the Red Hand retreated off the Heights per his order.\n\nThe command was relayed to the Ogier. Stay safe, Loial, Mat thought, making a notation on the map where he had sent the Ogier. \"Alert Lan, he's still on the western side of the Heights. I want him to swing around the back of the Heights, now that most of the Shadow's forces are on top, and back toward the Mora, behind the other Trolloc army trying to cross near the ruins. He's not to engage them; just stay out of sight and hold his position.\"\n\nThe messengers ran to do his bidding, and he made another notation. One of the so'jhin brought him some kaf the cute one with the freckles. He was too absorbed by the battle to smile at her.\n\nSipping his kaf Mat had the damane make him a gateway on the table-top so he could seethe battlefield itself. He leaned out over it, but kept one hand on the rim of the table. Only a bloody fool would let someone shove him through a hole two hundred feet over the ground."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He set down his kaf on aside table and took out his looking glass. The Trollocs were moving down the Heights toward the bogs. Yes, Demandred was good. The hulking beasts he had sent toward the bogs were slow but thick and powerful, like a rockslide. Also, a group of mounted Sharans were about to ride down from the Heights. Light cavalry. They would hit Mats troops holding Hawal Ford, and keep them from attacking the Trolloc left flank.\n\nA battle was a sword fight on a grand scale. For every move, there was a counter-often three or four. You responded by moving a squad here, a squad there, trying to counter what your enemy did while putting pressure on him in places where he was thin. Back and forth, back and forth. Mat was outnumbered, but he could use that.\n\n\"Relay the following to Talmanes,\" Mat said, eye still to the looking glass. \"\"Remember when you bet me I couldn't throw a coin into a cup from across the entire inn? '\"\n\n\"Yes, Great One,\" the Seanchan messenger said.\n\nMat had responded to the bet by saying he would try it once he was drunker-otherwise, there would have been no sport to it. Then Mat had pretended to get drunk, and provoked Talmanes to up the bet from silver to gold.\n\nTalmanes had figured him out and insisted he really drink. I still owe him a few marks for that, don't I? Mat thought absently.\n\nHe pointed the looking glass to the northern part of the Heights. A group of Sharan heavy cavalry had gathered to move down the slope; he could make out their long, steel-tipped lances.\n\nThey were preparing to charge down the slope to intercept Lan's men as they swung around the northern side of the Heights. But the order hadn't even reached Lan yet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It confirmed Mat's suspicions: Demandred not only had spies in the camp, he had one in or near the command tent. Someone who could send messages as soon as Mat gave orders. That probably meant a channeler, here, inside the tent and masking their ability.\n\nBloody ashes, Mat thought. As if this weren't tough enough.\n\nThe messenger returned from Talmanes. \"Great One,\" he said, prostrating himself nose to the floor, \"your man says that his forces are completely ruined. He wishes to follow your order, but says that the dragons will not be available for the rest of this day. It will take weeks to repair them. They are... I'm sorry, Great One, but these were his exact words. They are worse off than a barmaid in Sabinel. I do not know what it means.\"\n\n\"Barmaids there work for tips,\" Mat said with a grunt, \"but people in Sabinel don't tip.\"\n\nThat was, of course, a lie. Sabinel was a town where Mat had tried to make Talmanes help him win over a pair of barmaids. Talmanes had suggested that Mat feign a war wound to get sympathy.\n\nGoodman. The dragons could still fight, but they probably looked busted up something good. They had an advantage there; nobody knew how they worked except Mat and Aludra. Bloody ashes, and even he worried that each time one went off it would somehow blowup the wrong way.\n\nFive or six dragons were completely functional; Mat had pulled them through a gateway to safety. Aludra had those setup south of the ford, aimed toward the Heights. Mat would use them, but leave the spy with the impression that the bulk of them had been destroyed. Talmanes could instead patch them up; then Mat could use them again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But the moment I do, he thought, Demandred will bring everything he has down on them."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It had to be just the right moment. Bloody ashes, lately his life had been completely about trying to find the right moments. He was running out of those kinds of moments. For now, he ordered Aludra to use the half-dozen functional dragons to pound Trollocs across the river who were coming down the southwestern slope of the Heights.\n\nShe was far enough away from the Heights, and she would keep moving, so Demandred would have a difficult time pinpointing her and bringing the dragons down. The smoke they made would obscure her position quickly.\n\n\"Mat,\" Elayne said from her throne on the side of the room. He noticed, with amusement, that in shifting it about for'comfort\" she had somehow gotten Birgitte to wedge it up a few inches, so she now sat exactly level with Tuon. Maybe an inch higher. \"Please. Can you at least explain some of what you're doing?\"\n\nNot without letting that spy hear, too, he thought, glancing about the room. Who was it? One of the three pairs of damane and j 'uVdarrii Could a damane be a Darkfriend without her suldam knowing? What about the opposite? That noblewoman with the white streak in her hair looked suspicious.\n\nOr was it one of the many generals? Galgan? Tylee? Banner-General Gerisch? She stood at the side of the room, glaring at him. Honestly. Women. She did have a nice backside, but Mat had only mentioned it to be friendly. He was a married man.\n\nThe fact was, there were so many people moving about, Mat figured he could have spread millet on the floor and had flour by the end of the day. Supposedly, they were all absolutely trustworthy and incapable of betraying the Empress, might she live forever. Which she would not, if spies kept slipping in."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Mat?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elayne said. \"Someone else needs to know what you are planning. If you fall, we have to continue your plan.\"\n\nWell, that was a good enough argument. He'd considered it himself. Assured that his current orders were being followed, he stepped over to Elayne. He glanced about the room, then smiled to the others innocently. They need not know he was suspicious of them.\n\n\"Why are you leering at everyone?\" Elayne asked softly.\n\nIm not bloody leering,\"Mat said.\" Outside. I want to walk and take in some fresh air.\"\n\n\"Knotai?\" Tuon asked, standing.\n\nHe did not look toward her-those eyes could drill through solid steel. Instead, he casually made his way out of the command building. Elayne and Birgitte followed a few moments later.\n\n\"What is this?\" Elayne asked softly.\n\n\"There are many ears in there,\" Mat said.\n\n\"You suspect a spy inside of the command-\"\n\nWait,\" Mat said, taking her arm, pulling her away. He nodded agreeably to some Deathwatch Guards. They grunted in reply. For Deathwatch Guards, that was downright talkative.\n\n\"You can speak freely,\" Elayne said. \"I just wove us award against eavesdropping.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" Mat said. \"I want you away from the command post. I'll tell you what I'm doing. If something goes wrong, you'll have to pick another general, all right?\"\n\n\"Mat,\" Elayne said, \"if you think there's a spy-\"\n\n\"I know there's a spy,\" Mat said, \"and so I'm going to use the fellow. It's going to work. Trust me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, and you're so confident that you've already made a backup plan in case you fail.\"\n\nHe ignored that, nodding to Birgitte. She looked around them idly, watching for anyone who tried to draw too close.\n\n\"How good are you at cards, Elayne?\" Mat asked.\n\n\"At... Mat, this isn't the time for gambling.\"\n\n\"It's the exact time for gambling. Elayne, do you see how badly we're outnumbered? Do you feel the ground when Demandred attacks? We're lucky he didn't decide to Travel directly to the command post here and attack us-I suspect he's afraid that Rand is hiding here somewhere, and he'll get ambushed. But blood and bloody ashes, he's strong. Without a gamble, we're dead. Finished. Buried.\"\n\nShe grew silent.\n\nHere's the thing about cards,\"Mat said, holding up a finger.\" Cards arent like dice. In dice, you want to win as many throws as possible. Lots of throws, lots of wins. It's random, see? But not cards. In cards, you need to make the other fellows start betting. Betting well. You do that by letting them win a little. Ora lot.\n\nThat's not so hard here, since we're outnumbered and overwhelmed. The only way to win is to bet everything on the right hand. In cards, you can lose ninety-nine times but come out ahead if you win that right hand. So long as the enemy starts gambling recklessly. So long as you can ride the losses.\"\n\n\"And that's what you're doing?\" Elayne asked. \"You're faking that were losing?\"\n\n\"Bloody ashes, no,\" Mat said. \"I can't fake that. He'd see through it. I am losing, but I'm also watching. Holding back for that last bet, the one that could win it all.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So when do we move?\"\n\n\"When the right cards come along,\" Mat said. He raised his hand, stilling her objection. \" I'll know, Elayne. I just will bloody know. That's all I can\n\nyy\n\nsay.\n\nShe folded her arms above her swollen belly. Light, it seemed bigger everyday. \"Fine. What are your plans for Andor's forces?\"\n\n\"I already have Tam and his men committed along the river at the ruins,\" Mat said. \" As for the rest of your armies, I'd like you to go help at the ford. Demandred is probably counting on those Trollocs north of hereto cross the river and herd our defenders downriver on the Shienaran side while the rest of the Trollocs and the Sharans come off the Heights to push us back across the ford and upriver.\n\n\"They'll try to squeeze us tight, envelop us, and that will be that. Only, Demandred sent a force up the Mora to stop the river from flowing, and it's going to succeed very soon. We'll see if there's away to make that work for us. But once the river's gone, we'll need a solid defense in place to stop the Trollocs when they try to surge over the riverbed. That's what your forces are for.\"\n\n\"We'll go,\" Elayne said.\n\n\"We?\" Birgitte barked.\n\n\"I'm riding with my troops,\" Elayne said, walking toward the horselines.\n\n\"Its increasingly obvious that I wont be able to do anything here, and Mat wants me away from the command position. I'll bloody go, then.\"\n\n\"Into battle?\" Birgitte said.\n\n\"Were already in battle, Birgitte,\" Elayne said. \"The Sharan channelers could have ten thousand men assaulting Dashar Knob, and this cleft, in minutes. Come. I promise I'll let you put so many Guards around me that I won't be able to sneeze without spraying a dozen of them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Birgitte sighed, and Mat gave her a consoling look."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She nodded farewell to him, then walked off with Elayne.\n\nAll right, Mat thought, turning back toward the command building. Elayne was doing what she had to, and Talmanes had caught his signal. Now the real challenge.\n\nCould he coax Tuon into doing what he wanted?\n\nGalad led the cavalry of the Children of the Light in a sweeping attack along the Mora, near the ruins. The Trollocs had constructed more raft bridges here, and bodies floated as thick as autumn leaves on a pond. The archers had done their work well.\n\nThose Trollocs that finally crossed now had the Children to contend with. Galad leaned in low, lance held firmly, as he split the neck of a hulking, bear-faced Trolloc; he continued forward, lance tip streaming blood, the Trolloc falling to its knees behind him.\n\nHe guided his mount Sidama into the mass of Trollocs, knocking them down or causing them to leap out of the way. The power of a cavalry charge was in numbers, and those Galad forced aside could be trampled by the horses following him.\n\nAfter his charge came a volley from Tam's men, who launched arrows into the main body of Trollocs as they stumbled onto the banks of the river. Those behind pushed over them, trampling the wounded.\n\nGolever and several other Children joined Galad as their charge-which swept lengthwise across the front rank of Trollocs-ran out of enemies. He and his men reared and turned, lances up, galloping back to locate small groups of men separated and fighting alone.\n\nThe battlefield here was enormous. Galad spent the better part of an hour hunting out such groups, rescuing them and ordering them to the ruins so that Tam or one of his captains could form them into new banners. Slowly, as their numbers dwindled, original formations became mixed with one another. Mercenaries were not the only ones who now rode with the Children. Galad had Ghealdanin, Winged Guardsmen and a couple of"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Warders under his command. Kline and Alix. Both had lost their Aes Sedai. Galad didn't expect those two to last long, but they were fighting with terrible ferocity.\n\nAfter sending another group of survivors back toward the ruins, Galad brought Sidama down to a slow walk, listening to the horse's labored breath. This field beside the river had become a bloody churn of bodies and mud. Cauthon had been right to leave the Children in position here. Perhaps Galad gave the man too little credit.\n\n\"How long have we been fighting, would you say?\" Golever asked from beside him. The other Child's tabard had been ripped free, exposing his mail. A section of links along the right side had been crushed by a Trolloc blade. The mail had held, but the stain of blood there indicated that many of the links had been driven through Golever's quilted gambeson and into his side. The bleeding didn't look bad, so Galad said nothing.\n\n\"We've hit midday,\" Galad guessed, though he could not seethe sun for the clouds. He was reasonably certain they'd been fighting for four or five hours now.\n\n\"Think they'll stop for the night?\" Golever asked.\n\n\"Doubtful,\" Galad said. \"If this battle lasts that long.\"\n\nGolever looked at him with concern. \"You think-\"\n\n\"I cannot follow what is happening. Cauthon sent so many troops up here, and he pulled everyone off the Heights, from what I can tell. I don't know why. And the water in the river... does it seem to be flowing in fits and spurts to you? The struggle upstream must be going poorly...\" He shook his head. \"Perhaps if I could see more of the battlefield, I could understand Cauthon's plan.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was a soldier. A soldier need not understand the whole of the battle in order to follow his orders. However, Galad was usually able to at least piece together his side's strategy from commands given.\n\n\"Have you ever imagined a battle this large?\" Golever asked, turning his head. Arganda's infantry was crashing into the Trollocs at the river. More and more of the Shadowspawn were getting across-with alarm, Galad realized that the river had stopped flowing completely.\n\nThe Shadowspawn had gotten a footing in the last hour. It was going to be a tough fight, but at least the numbers were more even now, with all the Trollocs they had killed earlier. Cauthon had known the river would stop flowing. That was why he'd sent so many troops up here, to stem this onslaught from the other side.\n\nLight, Galad thought, I'm watching the Game of Houses on the battlefield itself Yes, he had not given Cauthon nearly enough credit.\n\nA lead ball with a red streamer suddenly fell from the sky about twenty paces ahead, hitting a dead Trolloc in the skull. Far overhead, the raken screeched and continued on its way. Galad heeled Sidama forward, and Golever climbed down to fetch the letter for him. Gateways were useful, but raken could seethe battlefield in its expanse, search out banners for specific men and deliver orders.\n\nGolever handed him the letter, and Galad pulled his list of ciphers from the leather envelope he carried in the top of his boot. The ciphers were simple-a list of numbers with words beside them. If orders didn't use the right word and the right number together, then they were suspect.\n\nDamodred, the orders read, bring yourself and a dozen of the best men from your twenty-second company and 7nove along the river toward Hawal Ford. Stop when you can see Elayne's banner and hold therefor more orders. P. S. If you see any Trollocs with quarterstaffs, I suggest you let Golever fight them instead, as I know you have trouble with those types. Mat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Galad sighed, showing the letter to Golever. The cipher authenticated it; the number twenty-two and the word'quarterstaff\" were paired.\n\n\"What does he want of us?\" Golever asked.\n\n\"I wish I knew,\" Galad said. He really did.\n\nI11&° gather some men,\"Golever said.\" I assume you'll want Harnesh, Mallone, Brokel...\" He continued through an entire list.\n\nGalad nodded. \"A good list. Well, I can't say I'm sad for this order. My sister has entered the field, it appears. I would keep watch on her.\" Beyond that, he wanted to look over another section of the battlefield. Perhaps that would help him understand what Cauthon was doing.\n\n\"As you order, Lord Captain Commander,\" Golever said.\n\nThe Dark One attacked.\n\nIt was an attempt to tear Rand apart, to destroy him bit by bit. The Dark One sought to claim the very elements that made up Rand's essence, then annihilate them.\n\nRand couldn't gasp, couldn't cry out. This attack wasn't at his body, for he had no true body in this place, just a memory of one.\n\nRand held himself together. With difficulty. In the face of this awesome attack, any notion of defeating the Dark One-of killing him-vanished. Rand couldn't defeat anything. He could barely hold on.\n\nHe could not have described the sensation if he'd tried. It was as if the Dark One was shredding him while at the same time trying to crush him entirely, coming at Rand from infinite directions, all at once, in a wave.\n\nRand fell to his knees. It was a projection of himself that did so, but it felt real to him."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "An eternity passed.\n\nRand suffered it. The crushing pressure, the noise of destruction. He weathered it on his knees, fingers taut like claws, sweat streaming from his brow. He suffered it and looked up.\n\n\"That is all you have?\" Rand growled.\n\nI WILL WIN.\n\n\"You made me strong,\" Rand said, voice ragged. \"Each time you or your minions tried to destroy me, your failure was like the blacksmith's hammer beating against metal. This attempt...\" Rand took a deep breath. \"This attempt of yours is nothing. I will not break.\"\n\nYOU MISTAKE. THIS IS NOT AN ATTEMPT TO DESTROY YOU. THIS IS PREPARATION.\n\n\"For what?\"\n\nTO SHOW YOU TRUTH.\n\nFragments of the Pattern... threads... suddenly spun before Rand, splitting from the main body of light like hundreds of tiny flowing streams. He knew this was not actually the Pattern, no more than what he saw as himself was actually his body. In interpreting something so vast as the fabric of creation, his mind needed some kind of imagery. This was what his consciousness chose.\n\nThe threads spun, not unlike threads in a weave of the One Power, only there were thousands upon thousands of them, and the colors were more varied, more vibrant. Each was straight, like a string pulled taut. Ora beam of light.\n\nThey came together like the product of a loom, creating a vision around him. Aground of slimy soil, plants speckled with black, trees with limbs that drooped like arms bereft of strength.\n\nIt became a place. A reality. Rand pushed himself to his feet, and could feel the soil. He could smell smoke in the air. Could hear... moans of sorrow. Rand turned, and found that he was on a mostly barren slope above a dark city with black stonewalls. Buildings huddled inside, squat and dull, like bunkers."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What is this?\" Rand whispered. Something about the place felt familiar. He looked up, but could not seethe sun for the clouds that dominated the sky.\n\nIT IS WHAT WILL BE.\n\nRand felt for the One Power, but drew back in revulsion. The taint had returned, but it was worse-far worse. Where it had once been a dark film on the molten light of saidin, it was now a sludge so thick that he could not pierce it. He would have to drink in the darkness, envelop himself in it, to seek out the One Power beneath-if, indeed, it was even still there. The mere thought made bile rise in his throat, and he had to fight to keep his stomach from emptying.\n\nHe was drawn toward that fortress nearby. Why did he feel he knew this place? He was in the Blight; the plants made that clear. If that wasn't enough, he could smell rot in the air. The heat was like that of a bog in the summer-sweltering, oppressive despite the clouds.\n\nHe walked down the shallow hillside, and caught sight of some figures working nearby. Men with axes, hacking at trees. There were maybe a dozen of them. As Rand approached, he glanced to the side, and saw the nothing that was the Dark One in the distance, consuming part of the landscape, like a piton the horizon. A reminder that what Rand was seeing wasn't real?\n\nHe passed stumps of cut trees. Were the men gathering firewood? The thock, thock of axes-and the postures of the workers-had none of the steadfast strength Rand associated with woodsmen. The beats were lethargic, the men working with slumped shoulders.\n\nThat man on the left... As Rand grew closer, he recognized him, despite the bent posture and wrinkled skin. Light. Tam had to beat least seventy, perhaps eighty. Why was he outworking so hard?"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's a vision, Rand thought. A nightmare. The Dark One's own creation. Not\n\nreal.\n\nYet, while standing within it, Rand found it difficult not to react as if this were indeed real. And it was, after a fashion. The Dark One used shadowed threads of the pattern-the possibilities that rippled from creation like waves from a dropped pebble in a pond-to create this.\n\n\"Father?\" Rand asked.\n\nTam turned, but his eyes didn't focus on Rand.\n\nRand took Tam by the shoulder. \"Father!\"\n\nTam stood dully fora moment, then went back to his work, raising his axe. Nearby, Dannil and Jori hacked at a stump. They had aged as well, and were now men well into their middle years. Dannil seemed sick with something awful, his face pale, his skin having broken out in some kind of sores.\n\nJori's axe bit deep into the bitter earth, and a black flood seeped from the soil-insects that had been hiding at the base of the stump. The blade had pierced their lair.\n\nThe insects swarmed out and sped up the handle to cover Jori. He\n\nscreamed, batting at them, but his open mouth let them climb inside. Rand had heard of such a thing, a deathswarm, one of the many dangers of the Blight. He raised a hand toward Jori, but the man slumped to the side, dead as quickly as a man could draw breath.\n\nTam yelled in horror and broke away, running. Rand spun as his father crashed into a thicket of brush nearby, trying to flee the deathswarm. Something jumped from a branch, quick as a snapping whip, and wrapped around Tams neck, jerking him to a halt."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No!\" Rand said. It wasn't real. He still couldn't watch his father die. He seized the Source, punching through the sickly darkness of the taint. It seemed to suffocate him, and Rand spent an excruciating time trying to find saidin. When he did grasp it, only a trickle came through.\n\nHe wove anyway, roaring, sending a ribbon of flame to kill the vine that had grabbed his father. Tam dropped from its grip as the vines writhed, dying.\n\nTam didn't move. His eyes stared upward, dead.\n\n\"No!\" Rand turned on the deathswarm. He destroyed it with a weave of Fire. Only seconds had passed, but all that remained of Jori was bones.\n\nThe insects popped as he burned them.\n\n\"A channeler,\" Dannil breathed, cowering nearby, eyes wide as he looked at Rand. Others of the woodsmen had fled into the wilderness. Rand heard several scream.\n\nRand could not stop himself from retching. The taint... it was so awful, so putrid. He could not hold to the Source any longer.\n\n\"Come,\" Dannil said, and grabbed Rand's arm. \"Come, I need you!\"\n\n\"Dannil,\" Rand croaked, standing up. \"You don't recognize me?\"\n\n\"Come,\" Dannil repeated, towing Rand toward the fortress.\n\n\"I'm Rand. Rand, Dannil. The Dragon Reborn.\"\n\nNo understanding shone in Dannil's eyes.\n\n\"What has he done to you?\" Rand whispered.\n\nTHEY DO NOT KNOW YOU, ADVERSARY. I HAVE REMADE THEM. ALL THINGS ARE MINE. THEY WILL NOT KNOW THAT THEY LOST. THEY WILL KNOW NOTHING BUT ME."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I deny you,\" Rand whispered. \"I deny you.\"\n\nDENYING THE SUN DOES NOT MAKE IT SET. DENYING ME DOES NOT PREVENT MY VICTORY.\n\n\"Come,\" Dannil said, towing Rand. \"Please. You must save me!\"\n\n\"End this,\" Rand said.\n\nEND IT? THERE ARE NO ENDINGS, ADVERSARY. IT IS. I HAVE CREATED IT.\n\n\"You imagine it.\"\n\n\"Please,\" Dannil said.\n\nRand allowed himself to be pulled along toward the dark fortress. \"What were you doing out there, Dannil?\" Rand demanded. \"Why gather wood in the Blight itself? It isn't safe.\"\n\n\"It was our punishment,\" Dannil whispered. \"Those who fail our master are sent out and told to bring back a tree they have cut down with their own hands. If the deathswarms or the twigs don't get you, the sound of cutting wood draws other things...\"\n\nRand frowned as they stepped onto a road leading to the town and its dark fortress. Yes, this place was familiar. The Quarry Road, Rand thought with surprise. And that ahead... The fortress dominated what had once been the Green at the center of Emond's Field.\n\nThe Blight had consumed the Two Rivers.\n\nThe clouds overhead seemed to push down on Rand, and he heard Jori's screams in his head. He again saw Tam struggling as he was strangled.\n\nIt isn't real.\n\nThis was what would happen if Rand failed. So many people depended on him... so many. Some, he had already failed. He had to fight to keep from going over in his head the list of those who had died in his service. Even if he saved others, he had failed to protect these."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was an attack of a different kind from the one that had tried to destroy his essence."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rand felt it, the Dark One forcing his tendrils into Rand, infecting his mind with worry, doubt, fear.\n\nDannil led him to the walls of the village where a pair of Myrddraal in unmoving cloaks guarded the gates. They slid forward. \"You were sent to gather wood,\" one whispered with too-white lips.\n\n\"I... I brought this one!\" Dannil said, stumbling away. \"A gift for our master! He can channel. I found him for you!\"\n\nRand growled, then plunged toward the One Power again, swimming in filth. He reached the trickle of saidin, seizing it.\n\nIt was immediately knocked from his grasp. A shield slid between him and the Source.\n\n\"It isn't real,\" he whispered as he turned to see who had channeled.\n\nNynaeve strode through the city gates, dressed in black. \"A wilder?\" she asked. \"Undiscovered? How did he survive this long? You have done well, Dannil. I give you back your life. Do not fail again.\"\n\nDannil wept for joy, then scrambled past Nynaeve into the city.\n\n\"It isn't real,\" Rand said as Nynaeve tied him in weaves of Air, then\n\ndragged him into the Dark Ones version of Emond s Field, the two Myrddraal rushing in ahead of her. It was a large city now. The houses had the feel of mice clustered together before a cat, each one of the same, uniform dullness. People scuttled through alleyways, eyes down.\n\nPeople scattered before Nynaeve, sometimes calling her'mistress.\" Others named her Chosen. The two Myrddraal sped through the city, like shadows. When Rand and Nynaeve reached the fortress, a small group had gathered in the courtyard. Twelve people-Rand could sense that the four men in the group held saidin, though he only recognized Damer Flinn from among them. A couple of the women were girls he had known in the Two Rivers."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Thirteen of them. And thirteen Myrddraal, gathering beneath that clouded sky. For the first time since the start of the vision, Rand felt fear. Not this. Anything but this.\n\nWhat if they Turned him? This wasn't real, but it was aversion of reality. A mirror world, created by the Dark One. What would it do to Rand if they Turned him here? Had he been trapped that easily?\n\nHe began to struggle, panicked, against the bonds of Air. It was useless, of course.\n\n\"You are an interesting one,\" Nynaeve said, turning to him. She didn't look a day older than when he had left her in the cavern, but there were other differences. She wore her hair in a braid again, but her face was leaner, more... harsh. And those eyes.\n\nThe eyes were all wrong.\n\n\"How did you survive out there?\" she asked him. \"How did you go undiscovered so long?\"\n\n\"I come from a place where the Dark One does not rule.\"\n\nNynaeve laughed. \"Ridiculous. A tale for children. The Great Lord has always ruled.\"\n\nRand could see it. His connection to the Pattern, the glimmering of halftruths and shadowed ways. This possibility... it could happen. It was one path the world could take. The Dark One, here, had won the Last Battle and broken the Wheel of Time.\n\nThat had allowed him to remake it, to spin the pattern in anew way. Everyone alive had forgotten the past, and now knew only what the Dark One had inserted in their minds. Rand could read the truth, the history of this place, in the threads of the Pattern he had touched earlier."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nynaeve, Egwene, Logain and Cadsuane were now members of the Forsaken, Turned to the Shadow against their will. Moiraine had been executed for being too weak.\n\nElayne, Min, Aviendha... they had been given over to torture, endlessly, at Shayol Ghul.\n\nThe world was a living nightmare. Each member of the Forsaken ruled as a despot over their own little section of the world. An endless autumn played out as they threw armies, Dreadlords, and factions against one another. An eternal battle.\n\nThe Blight had extended to every ocean. Seanchan was no more, ruined and scorched until not even rats and crows could survive there. Anyone who could channel was discovered as a youth and Turned. The Dark One did not like the risk that someone would bring hope back to the world.\n\nAnd nobody ever would.\n\nRand screamed as the thirteen began to channel.\n\n\"This is your worst?\" Rand yelled.\n\nThey pressed their wills against his own. He felt them, like nails being pounded into his skull, parting his flesh. He pushed back with everything he had, but the others started a thrumming pressure. Each thump, like the chop of an axe, came closer and closer to boring into him.\n\nAND SO I WIN.\n\nThe failure hit Rand hard-the knowledge that what happened here was his fault. Nynaeve, Egwene, Turned to the Shadow because of him. Those he loved, becoming playthings for the Shadow.\n\nRand should have protected them.\n\nI WIN. AGAIN.\n\n\"You think I am the same youth that Ishamael tried so hard to frighten?\" Rand shouted, fighting down his terror and shame."
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "THE FIGHT IS OVER.\n\n7T HAS NOT YET BEGUN/\" Rand screamed.\n\nThe reality around him shattered again into ribbons of light. Nynaeve's face shredded, coming apart like lace with a loose thread. The ground disintegrated, and the fortress ceased to exist.\n\nRand dropped from bands of Air that had never been completely there. The reality the Dark One had created, fragile, unwove into its component parts. Threads of light spiraled out, quivering like the strings of a harp.\n\nThey waited to be woven.\n\nRand drew breath, deeply, through his teeth and looked up at the darkness beyond the threads. \"I will not sit passively and suffer it this time, Shaitan. I will not be captive to your nightmares. I have become something greater than I once was.\"\n\nRand seized those threads spinning about him, taking them-hundreds upon hundreds of them. There was no Fire, Air, Earth, Water or Spirit\n\nhere. * . these were somehow more base, somehow more varied. Each one was individual, unique. Instead of Five Powers, there were thousands.\n\nRand took them, gathered them and in his handheld the fabric of creation itself\n\nThen he channeled it, spinning it into a different possibility.\n\n\"Now,\" Rand said, breathing deeply, trying to banish the horror of what he had seen. \"Now I will show you what is going to happen.\"\n\nBryne bowed. \"The men are in position, Mother.\"\n\nEgwene took a deep breath. Mat had sent the White Towers forces across the dry riverbed below the ford and around the western side of the bogs; it was time for Egwene to join them. She hesitated fora moment, looking through the gateway to Mats command post. Egwene met the eyes of the Seanchan woman across the table, where she sat imperiously on her throne."
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "I have not finished with you, Egwene thought.\n\n\"Lets go,\" she said, turning, waving for Yukiri to close the gateway to Mats building. She fingered Vora's sa'angreal, held in one hand as she strode out of her tent.\n\nShe hesitated when she saw something there. Something slight, on the ground. Tiny spiderweb cracks in the rocks. She bent down.\n\n\"There are more and more of those around, Mother,\" Yukiri said, stooping down beside her. \"We think that when Dreadlords channel, the cracks can spread. Particularly if balefire is used. .\"\n\nEgwene felt them. Though they seemed like ordinary cracks to the touch, they looked down into pure nothing. Blackness, far too deep for simple cracks to have caused through shadows of the light.\n\nShe wove. All five powers, together, testing at the cracks. Yes...\n\nShe wasn't certain exactly what she did, but the fledgling weave covered the cracks like a bandage. The darkness faded, leaving behind only ordinary cracks-and a thin film of crystals.\n\n\"Interesting,\" Yukiri said. \"What was that weave?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Egwene said. \"It felt right. Gawyn, have you...\" She trailed off.\n\nGawyn.\n\nEgwene stood up with a start. She vaguely remembered him leaving her command tent for some air. How long ago had it been? She turned around slowly, sensing where he was. The bond let her tell his direction. She stopped when she was pointing toward him.\n\nShe was looking toward the riverbed, just up from the ford, where Mat had positioned Elayne's forces."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "Oh, Light...\n\n\"What?\" Silviana asked.\n\n\"Gawyn has gone to fight,\" Egwene said, keeping her voice calm with effort. That wool-headed idiot of a man! Could he not wait an hour or two until her armies were in position? She knew that he was eager to fight, but he should have at least asked!\n\nBryne groaned softly.\n\nSend someone to fetch him,\"Egwene said. Now her voice was cold, angry. She could not make it otherwise.\" He has apparently joined the An-doran armies.\"\n\nI will do it, Bryne said, one hand on his sword, his other arm raised toward one of the grooms. \"I cannot be trusted to lead armies. At least I can do this.\"\n\nIt made sense. Take Yukiri with you,\"she said.\" Once you've found my fool Warder, Travel to us west of the bogs.\"\n\nBryne bowed, then retreated. Siuan watched him, hesitant.\n\nYou may go with him,\" Egwene said.\n\n\"Is that where you need me?\" Siuan asked.\n\nActually. . \"Egwene lowered her voice.\" I want someone to join Mat and the Seanchan Empress and listen with ears accustomed to hearing what is not spoken.\"\n\nSiuan nodded, approval-even pride-in her expression. Egwene was Amyrlin; she had no need of either emotion from Siuan, and yet it lifted a little of her grinding fatigue.\n\n\"You look amused,\" Egwene said.\n\n\"When Moiraine and I set out to find the boy,\" Siuan said, \"I had no idea the Pattern would send you to us as well.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Your replacement?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene said.\n\nAs a queen ages, Siuan said, \" she begins to think about her legacy. Light, every goodwife probably starts to think the same things. Will she have an heir to hold what she has created? As a woman grows in wisdom, she realizes that what she alone can accomplish pales compared to what her legacy can achieve.\n\nWell, I suppose I cant claim you entirely as my own, and I wasn't exactly pleased to be succeeded. But it is... comforting to know I've had a hand in shaping what is to come. And if a woman were to wish fora legacy, she could not dream of greater than one such as you. Thank you. I'll watch\n\nthis Seanchan woman for you, maybe help poor Min crawl out of the fang-fishnet she's found herself in.\"\n\nSiuan moved away, calling for Yukiri to make her a gateway before going with Bryne. Egwene smiled, watching her give the general a kiss. Siuan. Kissing a man in the open.\n\nSilviana channeled, and Egwene climbed into Daishar's saddle as a gateway opened for them. She embraced the Source, holding Vora's sa'angreal before her, and trotted through behind a group of Tower Guards. She was immediately assaulted by the scent of smoke.\n\nHigh Captain Chubain waited for heron the other side. The darkhaired man had always struck her as being too young for his position, but she supposed not every commander had to be silvered like Bryne. After all, they were entrusting this battle to someone only a bit older than she, and she herself was the youngest Amyrlin ever.\n\nEgwene turned toward the Heights and found that she could barely see them through fires that were burning along the slope and the eastern edge of the bogs."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"What happened?\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "she asked.\n\n\"Flaming arrows,\" Chubain said, \"fired by our forces at the river. I thought Cauthon was mad at first, but I can see his reasoning now. He fired at the Trollocs to set the fields alight thereon the Heights and at their base to give us cover. The undergrowth over there is dry and brittle as tinder. The fires drove the Trollocs and Sharan cavalry backup the slope for the time being. And I think Cauthon is counting on the smoke masking our movement around the bogs.\"\n\nThe Shadow would know someone was moving over here, but how many troops and in what configuration... they would have to rely on scouts, rather than their superior vantage atop the Heights.\n\n\"Our orders?\" Chubain said.\n\n\"He didn't tell you?\" Egwene asked.\n\nHe shook his head. \"He just put us in position here.\"\n\n\"We continue on up the west side of the bog and come at the Sharans from behind,\" she said.\n\nChubain grunted. \"This is fragmenting our forces a great deal. And now he assaults them on the Heights after relinquishing it to them?\"\n\nShe didn't have an answer to that. Well, she had been the one-essentially-to put Mat in charge. She spared a glance across the bogs again, toward where she sensed Gawyn. He would be fighting at the...\n\nEgwene hesitated. Her previous position had let her sense Gawyn in the direction of the river, but after moving through the gateway, she had a better sense of his position. He wasn't at the river with Elayne's armies.\n\nGawyn was on the Heights themselves, where the Shadow held the strongest."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Oh, Light! she thought. Gawyn... What are you doing?\n\nGawyn strode through smoke. Black tendrils of it curled around him, and the heat of smoldering grass warmed his boots, but the fire had mostly burned out here atop the Heights, leaving the ground dark with ash.\n\nBodies and some broken dragons lay blackened, like heaps of slag or coal. Gawyn knew that sometimes, to renew afield, farmers would burn the previous year's weeds. The world itself was alight now. Ashe slipped through the twisting black smoke-his kerchief wetted and tied across his face-he prayed fora renewal.\n\nThere were spiderweb cracks allover the ground. The Shadow was destroying this land.\n\nMost of the Trollocs were gathering on the Heights overlooking Hawal Ford, though a handful busied themselves prodding at bodies on the slope. Perhaps they had been drawn by the scent of burning flesh. A Myrddraal emerged from the smoke and began scolding them in a language Gawyn did not understand. It lashed a whip at the Trollocs' backs.\n\nGawyn froze in place, but the Halfman did not notice him. It drove the stragglers toward where the rest of the Trollocs had gathered. Gawyn waited, breathing softly through his handkerchief, feeling the shadows of the Bloodknives wreathe him. The three rings had done things to him. He felt heady, and his limbs moved too quickly when he stepped. It had taken time to grow accustomed to the changes, to keep his balance each time he moved.\n\nA wolf-featured Trolloc rose up from behind a nearby pile of rubble and sniffed the air, looking after the Fade. The Trolloc then crept out of hiding, a corpse thrown over its shoulder. It walked past Gawyn, passing not five feet away, where it paused and sniffed the air again. Then, hunching low, it continued. The body it carried over its shoulder trailed the cloak of a Warder. Poor Symon. He would never play another hand of cards. Gawyn growled softly, and before he could stop himself, leaped forward. He moved into Kissing the Adder, spinning and relieving the Trollocs shoulders of its head."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The carcass crashed down to the ground. Gawyn stood with sword out, then cursed himself, crouching and moving back into the smoke. It would mask his scent, and the twisting blackness his blurred form. Fool, to risk exposing himself to kill one Trolloc. Symons corpse would end up in a cookpot anyway. Gawyn couldn't kill the entire army. He was here for one man.\n\nGawyn crouched, waiting to see if his attack had been noticed. Perhaps they wouldn't have been able to see him-he wasn't certain how much the rings clouded him-but anyone watching would have seen the Trolloc fall.\n\nNo warning call. Gawyn rose and continued. Only then did he notice that his fingers were showing red among the black of the ash. He had burned them. The pain was distant. The rings. He had difficulty thinking straight, but that didn't-fortunately-stop his ability to fight. If anything, his instincts were stronger now.\n\nDemandred. Where was Demandred? Gawyn sped back and forth across the top of the Heights. Cauthon had troops stationed at the river near the ford, but the smoke made it impossible to see who was involved. On the other side, the Borderlanders were engaged with a Sharan cavalry unit. Yet here, on top, it was peaceful, despite the presence of Shadowspawn and Sharans. Now Gawyn crept along the back lines of the Shadowspawn, keeping to the rougher patches of deadwood and weeds. Nobody seemed to notice him. There were shadows here, and shadows were protection. Down below, in the corridor between Heights and bog, the fires were going out. That seemed too quick for them to have burned themselves out. Channeling?\n\nHe had intended to find Demandred by seeking the origin of the man's attacks, but if he was just channeling to putout fires, then-"
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Shadow's army charged, racing down the slope toward Hawal Ford. Though the Sharans remained behind, the bulk of the Trollocs moved. They obviously intended to pushover the now-dry riverbed and engage Cauthon's army.\n\nIf Cauthon had intended to lure all of Demandred's forces off the Heights, he had failed. Many Sharans remained behind, infantry and cavalry units, watching impassively as the Trollocs thundered toward battle.\n\nExplosions pounded along the slope, throwing Trollocs into the air like dirt from a beaten rug. Gawyn hesitated, crouching low. Dragons, the few working ones. Mat had set them up somewhere across the river; it was difficult to see an exact position because of the smoke. By the sound, there were only half a dozen or so, but the damage they caused was enormous, particularly considering the distance.\n\nA burst of red light from nearby atop the Heights launched toward the smoke of the dragons. Gawyn smiled. Thank you kindly. He put his hand on his sword. Time to test just how well these rings worked.\n\nHe dashed, low and quick, out of cover. Most of the Trollocs were piling down the slope, loping toward the dry riverbed. Crossbow bolts and arrows assaulted them, and another round of dragon fire came from a slightly different location. Cauthon had the dragons moving, and Demandred had trouble pinpointing them.\n\nGawyn ran between howling Shadowspawn. The ground thumped like a beating heart from the impacts along the ground behind him. Smoke whipped around him, thick in his throat. His hands had been blackened, and he assumed his face had been as well. He hoped that would help keep him hidden.\n\nTrollocs turned about, screeching or grunting, but none of them fixed upon him. They knew something had passed, but to them, he was merely a blur."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Egwene's anger poured through the bond."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gawyn smiled. He had not expected her to be pleased. Ashe ran, arrows slicing the earth around him, he found peace with his choice. Once, perhaps, he would have done this for the pride of the battle and the chance to pit himself against Demandred.\n\nThat was not his heart now. His heart was the need. Someone had to fight this creature, someone had to kill him or they would lose this battle. They could all see it. Risking Egwene or Logain would be too great a gamble.\n\nGawyn could be risked. No one would send him to do this-no one would dare-but it was necessary. He had a chance to change things, to really matter. He did it for Andor, for Egwene, for the world itself.\n\nAhead, Demandred bellowed his now familiar challenge. \"Send me al'Thor, not these so-called dragons!\" Another streak of fire flew from him.\n\nGawyn passed the charging Trollocs and came up behind a large group of Sharans with strange bows, almost as big as those of the Two Rivers. They surrounded amounted man in interlinking armor of coins, bound at holes in the centers, with a gorget and armguards. The faceplate on his fearsome helmet was open. That proud face was eerily familiar to Gawyn, handsome and imperious.\n\nThis will have to be quick, Gawyn thought. And Light, Vd better not give him a chance to channel.\n\nThe Sharan archers stood at the ready, but only two of them turned as Gawyn slipped between them. Gawyn pulled his knife from his belt sheath. He'd have to drag Demandred off his horse, then go for the face with his knife. It felt like a coward's attack, but it was the best way. Trip him, and Gawyn could-"
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "Demandred spun, suddenly, and looked toward Gawyn. A second later, the man thrust his hand forward, and abeam of white-hot fire-thin as a twig-shot for Gawyn.\n\nIt missed, striking just beside Gawyn as he leaped away. Cracks opened all across the ground nearby. Deep, black cracks, that seemed to open into eternity itself.\n\nGawyn leaped forward, cutting at Demandred s saddle. So fast. These rings let him react while Demandred was still staring in confusion.\n\nThe saddle came off and Gawyn rammed his knife into the horse's side. The beast screamed and reared, throwing Demandred backward, saddle and all.\n\nGawyn leaped, bloodied knife out, as the horse bolted and the Sharan archers cried out. He loomed over Demandred, knife raised in two hands.\n\nThe Forsaken's body suddenly jolted, and the man was pushed to the side. Air blew about the blackened ground, raising flakes of ash, as weaves of air caught Demandred and spun him about, depositing him on his feet with a clink, sword unsheathed. The Forsaken crouched, and released another weave-Gawyn felt air spinning next to him, as if threads of it had tried to grab him. He was too quick, and Demandred obviously had trouble hitting him because of the rings.\n\nGawyn backed away and switched his knife to his offhand, unsheathing his sword in his right.\n\n\"So,\" Demandred said, \"an assassin. And Lews Therin always spoke of the \"honor\" of facing a man face-to-face.\"\n\n\"I wasn't sent by the Dragon Reborn.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"With Night's Shade surrounding you, a weave that none from this Age remember? Do you know that what Lews Therin has done to you will leak your life away? You are dead, little man.\"\n\n\"Then you can join me in the grave,\" Gawyn said.\n\nDemandred stood up, taking his sword in two hands in an unfamiliar battle stance. He seemed able to track Gawyn somewhat despite the rings, but his responses were a hair slower than they should have been.\n\nApple Blossoms in the Wind, with three quick strikes, forced Demandred back. Several Sharans came forward with swords, but Demandred raised a gauntleted hand to warn them off. He did not smile at Gawyn-this man did not seem as if he ever smiled-but he performed something that was similar to Lightning of Three Prongs. Gawyn replied with The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain.\n\nDemandred was good. With the edge granted by the rings, Gawyn narrowly escaped Demandred's riposte. The two danced through a small circle of open ground guarded by the watching Sharans. Distant booms threw iron spheres at the hillside, making the ground shake. There were only a few dragons still firing, but they seemed to be concentrating on this position.\n\nGawyn grunted, throwing himself into Storm Shakes the Branch, trying to push inside Demandreds guard. He would need to be close and ram his sword into the armpit or between the seams of the coin armor.\n\nDemandred responded with skill and finesse. Gawyn was soon sweating beneath his mail. He felt faster than he'd ever been, his reactions like the darting movements of a hummingbird. Yet, try as he did, he could not land a hit."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Who are you, little man?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Demandred growled, walking back with sword raised at his side. \"You fight well.\"\n\n\"Gawyn Trakand.\"\n\n\"The little queens brother,\" Demandred said. \"You realize who I am.\"\n\n\"A murderer.\"\n\n\"And has your Dragon not murdered?\" Demandred said. \"Has your sister never killed to keep, dare I say seize, her throne?\"\n\n\"That's different.\"\n\n\"So everyone always says.\" Demandred stepped forward. His sword forms were smooth, his back always straight but relaxed, and he used the broad, sweeping movements of a dancer. He had absolute mastery of his sword; Gawyn had not heard that Demandred was known for his swordsmanship, but this man was as good as any man Gawyn had ever faced. Better, truly.\n\nGawyn performed Cat Dances on the Wall, a beautiful, sweeping sword form that matched Demandreds. Then he ducked in with The Serpent's Tongue Dances, hoping his previous form would have lulled Demandred into letting a thrust slip past.\n\nSomething crashed into Gawyn, throwing him to the ground. He rolled, coming up in a crouch. His breathing grew labored. He did not feel pain because of the rings, but he had probably broken a rib.\n\nA rock, Gawyn thought. He channeled and brought a rock into hit me. He had trouble hitting Gawyn with weaves, because of the shadows, but something large could be tossed at the shadows and still hit him.\n\n\"You cheat,\" Gawyn said with a sneer.\n\n\"Cheat?\" Demandred asked. \"Are there rules, little swordsman? As I recall, you tried to stab me in the back while hiding in a shroud of darkness.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Gawyn breathed in and out, holding his side."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A dragon's iron sphere thumped into the ground just a short distance away, then exploded. The blast ripped apart some Sharans, their bodies shielding Gawyn and\n\nDemandred from the brunt of the blast. The soil rained down, like a spray of surf on the deck of a ship. At least one of the dragons was still working.\n\n\"You name me a murderer,\" Demandred said, \"and I am. I am also your savior, whether you wish it or not.\"\n\n\"You're mad.\"\n\n\"Hardly,\" Demandred walked around him, cutting the air with a few sweeps of his sword. \"That man you follow, Lews Therin Telamon, he is mad. He thinks he can defeat the Great Lord. He cannot. That is simple fact.\"\n\n\"You'd have us join the Shadow instead?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Demandred's eyes were cold. \"If I kill Lews Therin, in victory I will be given the right to remake the world as I wish. The Great Lord cares nothing for rule. The only way to protect this world is to destroy it, and then shelter its people. Is that not what your Dragon claims he can do?\"\n\n\"Why do you keep calling him my Dragon?\" Gawyn said, then spat blood to the side. The rings... they urged him forward. His limbs pulsed with strength, energy. Fight! Kill!\n\n\"You follow him,\" Demandred said.\n\n\"I do not!\"\n\n\"Lies,\" Demandred said. \" Or perhaps you are simply fooled. I know that Lews Therin leads this army. At first I was uncertain, but no longer. That weave about you is proof enough, but I have a greater one. No mortal general has such skill as this day has shown; I face a true master on the battlefield. Perhaps Lews Therin wears the Mask of Mirrors, or perhaps he leads by sending messages to this Cauthon through the One Power. It does not matter, I seethe truth. I dice with Lews Therin this day."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I was always the better general. I will prove it here. I would have you tell that to Lews Therin, but you will not livelong enough, little swordsman. Prepare yourself.\" Demandred raised his sword.\n\nGawyn stood, dropping his knife, taking his sword in two hands. Demandred stalked toward him, using forms that were different from those Gawyn knew. They were still familiar enough for him to counter, but despite his greater speed, time and time again Demandred caught his sword and deflected it harmlessly to the side.\n\nThe man did not strike. He barely moved, feet set wide apart, sword in two hands, battering aside each and every attack Gawyn hurled at him. The Dove Takes Flight, The Falling Leaf, Leopard's Caress. Gawyn gritted his teeth, growling through them. The rings should have been enough. Why weren't the rings enough?\n\nGawyn stepped back, then ducked backward as another stone came hurtling toward him. It missed him by inches. Thank the Light for these rings, he thought.\n\n\"You fight with skill,\" Demandred said, \"for one of this Age. But you still wield your sword, little man.\"\n\n\"What else would I do?\"\n\n\"Become the sword yourself,\" Demandred said, as if baffled that Gawyn did not understand.\n\nGawyn growled and came in again, battering at Demandred. Gawyn was still faster. Demandred didn't attack; he was on the defensive, then, although he didn't retreat. He just stood there, turning aside each blow.\n\nDemandred closed his eyes. Gawyn smiled, then thrust in Black Lance's Last Strike.\n\nDemandred's sword became a blur."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Something struck Gawyn. He gasped, pulling to a stop. He wobbled and fell to his knees, looking down at a hole in his gut. Demandred had thrust straight through the mail, then pulled his sword free in a single fluid motion.\n\nWhy can't... why can't I feel anything?\n\n\"If you do survive this and see Lews Therin,\" Demandred said, \"tell him I am very much looking forward to a match between the two of us, sword against sword. I have improved since we last met.\"\n\nDemandred whipped his sword around, catching the back of the blade in the crook between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled the sword across, stripping the blood from the steel and splattering it to the ground.\n\nHe slid the weapon into his sheath. He shook his head, then released a ball of fire toward a still-firing dragon.\n\nIt fell silent. Demandred strode away along the edge of the steep slope facing the river, his Sharan guard forming around him. Gawyn collapsed to the ground, stunned, spurting his life onto the burned grass. He tried to hold in the blood through trembling fingers.\n\nSomehow Gawyn managed to push himself up to his knees. His heart cried out; he needed to return to Egwene. He began to crawl, blood mixing with the earth beneath him as it seeped from his wound. Through eyes clouded with cold perspiration, he spotted several cavalry mounts twenty paces ahead, poking at blackened tufts of grass at their feet and tethered to a picket-line. After minutes of struggle, an impossible interval of time that left him drained, he pulled himself upon to the back of the first horse he could reach and untether. Gawyn hunched over, dazed, grasping its mane in one hand. Summoning his remaining strength, he kicked his heel into the animal's rib cage."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "---\n\n\"My Lady,\" Mandevwin said to Faile, \"I have known those two men for years! They are not without a few spots in their past. No man comes to the Band without a few of those. But, Light provide, they are not Darkfriends!\"\n\nFaile ate her midday rations in silence, listening with as much patience as she could muster to Mandevwin's protests. She wished Perrin were here so she could have a good argument. She felt as if she would burst from pressure.\n\nThey were close to Thakan'dar, horribly close. The black sky rumbled with lightning, and they hadn't seen a living creature-dangerous or not-in days. Nor had they seen Vanin or Harnan again, though Faile set a double guard each night. The minions of the Dark One did not give up.\n\nShe now carried the Horn in a large bag tied to her waist. The others knew it, and moved between pride in their duty and horror at the import of it. At least she shared that with them now.\n\n\"My Lady,\" Mandevwin said, kneeling down. \"Vanin is out there nearby somewhere. He is a very gifted scout, the best in the Band. We will not see him unless he wants us to, but I would swear that he is following us. Where else would he go? Perhaps if I call out to him, invite him into tell his story, so we can resolve this.\"\n\n\"I will consider it, Mandevwin,\" Faile said.\n\nHe nodded. The one-eyed man was a good commander, but had the imagination of a brick. Uncomplicated men assumed others to have uncomplicated motivations, and he could not imagine someone like Vanin or Harnan helping the Band for so long-under orders, undoubtedly, to avoid suspicion-only to now do something so terrible."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "At least now she knew that she hadn't been worried without cause."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That look of pure terror in Vanin's eyes when he'd been caught was confirmation enough, if catching him with the Horn in his hands hadn't been. She had not expected two Darkfriends, and they had outsmarted her in their thievery. However, they had also underestimated the dangers of the Blight. She hated to think what would have happened if they hadn't drawn the attention of the bear-thing. Faile would have remained in her tent, anticipating the arrival of thieves who had already disappeared with one of the most powerful artifacts in the world.\n\nThe sky rumbled. Dark Shayol Ghul loomed ahead, rising out of the valley of Thakan'dar in a range of smaller mountains. The air had grown chill, almost wintery. Reaching that peak would be difficult-but one way or another, she was going to bring this Horn to the forces of the Light for the Last Battle. She rested her fingers on the sack at her side, feeling the metal within.\n\nNearby, Olver scampered across the lifeless gray rock of the Blasted Lands, wearing his knife at his belt like a sword. Perhaps she should not have brought him. Then again, boys his age in the Borderlands learned to run messages and carry supplies to besieged forts. They wouldn't go outwith a war band or be given a post until they were at least twelve, but their training started much earlier.\n\n\"My Lady?\"\n\nFaile looked toward Selande and Arrela as they approached. Faile had put Selande in charge of the scouts, now that Vanin had revealed himself. The pale little woman looked less like an Aiel than many of the others in Cha Faile. But the attitude helped.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Movement, my Lady,\" Selande said softly."
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "\"What?\" Faile stood. \"What kind?\"\n\n\"Some kind of caravan.\"\n\n\"In the Blasted Lands?\" Faile asked. \"Show me.\"\n\nIt wasn't just a caravan. There was a village out there. Faile could make it out through the looking glass, though only as a smudge of darkness to indicate buildings. It was settled into the foothills near Thakan'dar. A village. Light!\n\nFaile moved the looking glass down to where a caravan crept across the bleak landscape, heading toward a supply station setup a good distance outside the village.\n\n\"They're doing what we did,\" she whispered.\n\n\"What's that, my Lady?\" Arrela lay on her stomach beside Faile. Mandevwin was on her other side, peering through his own looking glass.\n\n\"It's a central supply station,\" Faile explained, looking over the stacks of boxes and bundles of arrows. \"Shadowspawn can't move through gateways, but their supplies can. They needn't have carried arrows and replacement weapons as part of the invasion. Instead, the supplies are being collected here, then sent to the battlefields when needed.\"\n\nIndeed, down below, a ribbon of light announced a gateway opening. A large train of dirty-looking men trudged through it with packs on their backs, followed by dozens of others pulling small carts.\n\n\"Wherever those supplies are going,\" Faile said slowly, \"there will be fighting nearby. Those carts carry arrows, but no food, as the Trollocs are dragging corpses away to feast on each night.\"\n\n\"So if we could slip through one of those gateways. . Mandevwin said.\n\nArrela snorted, as if the conversation were a joke. She looked at Faile, and the smile slipped from her lips. \"You're serious. Both of you.\""
}
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[
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"value": "As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 9"
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"value": "Min threw.\n\nMat toppled to the ground a few feet from Tuon; the final Gray Man had him by the legs. Min's knife spun through the air, reflecting flames, and took the Gray Man over Tuon in the chest.\n\nMin breathed out. Never in her life had shebeen so happy to see a knife fly true. Mat had cursed, turning about, booting his aggressor in the face. He followed that with a knife, then scrambled for Tuon, hauling her up onto his shoulder.\n\nMin met him. \"Siuan is here, too. She-\"\n\nMat pointed. Siuan lay on the floor of the building. Her eyes stared sightlessly, and all the images were gone from above her.\n\nDead. Min froze, heart wrenching. Siuan! She moved toward the woman\n\nanyway, unable to believe she was dead, though her clothing burned from the explosion of fire that had taken her and about half of the wall nearby her.\n\n\"Out!\" Mat said, coughing, cradling Tuon. He threw his shoulder against a wall that was only half-burned, breaking out into the air.\n\nMin groaned, leaving Siuan's corpse, blinking away tears both from grief and from the smoke. She coughed as she followed Mat out into open air. The outside smelled so sweet, so cold. Behind them, the building groaned, then collapsed.\n\nIn moments, Min and Mat were surrounded by members of the Death-watch Guard. Not a one tried to take Tuon-who was still breathing, if shallowly-away from Mat. From the look in his eye, Min doubted they'd have been able to do so.\n\nFarewell, Siuan, Min thought, looking back as Guards ushered her away from the fighting below Dashar Knob. May the Creator shelter your soul."
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"value": "She would send word to others to protect Bryne, but she knew-deep down-it would be futile. He would have gone into a vengeful rage the moment Siuan died, and discounting that, there was the viewing.\n\nShe was never wrong. Sometimes, Min hated her accuracy. But she was never wrong.\n\n\"Strike at their weaves,\" Egwene yelled. \"I'll attack!\"\n\nShe didn't wait to see if she was obeyed. She struck, holding as much power as she could, drawing it through Vora's sa'angreal and heaving three different bands of fire upslope at the entrenched Sharans.\n\nAround her, Bryne's well-trained troops struggled to maintain battle lines as they fought Sharan soldiers, working their way up the western side of the Heights. The hillside was pocked with hundreds of furrows and holes, created by weaves from one side or the other.\n\nEgwene fought forward desperately. She could feel Gawyn above, but she thought he was unconscious; his spark of life was so faint that she could barely sense his direction. Her only hope was to fight through the Sharans and reach him.\n\nThe ground rumbled as she vaporized a Sharan woman above; Saerin, Doesine and other sisters concentrated on deflecting the enemy weaves, while Egwene focused on sending attacks. She stepped forward. One step after another.\n\nVm coming, Gawyn, she thought, growing frantic. I'm coming.\n\n\"We come to report, Wyld.\"\n\nDemandred ignored the messengers for the moment. He flew upon the wings of a falcon, inspecting the battle through the birds eyes. Ravens were better, but each time he tried using one of those, one Borderlander or another shot it down. Of all the customs to remember through the Ages, why did it have to be that one?"
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "No matter. A falcon would work, even if the bird did resist his control. He guided it about the battlefield, inspecting formations, deployments, advancements of troops. He did not have to rely upon the reports of others.\n\nIt should have been an almost insurmountable advantage. Lews Therin could not use such an animal; this was a gift only the True Power could grant. Demandred could channel only a thin trickle of the True Power-not enough for destructive weaves, but there were other ways to be dangerous. Unfortunately, Lews Therin had his own advantage. Gateways that looked down upon a battlefield? It was discomforting the things people of this time discovered, things that hadn't been known during the Age of Legends.\n\nDemandred opened his eyes and broke his bond to the falcon. His forces were advancing, but each step was a grueling ordeal. Tens of thousands of Trollocs had been slain. He had to be careful; their numbers were not limitless.\n\nHe was currently on the eastern side of the Heights, looking down at the river below and northeast of the place where Lews Therin's assassin had tried to kill him.\n\nHere, Demandred was nearly opposite the hill that Moghedien said they called Dashar Knob. The rock formation rose high in the air; its base was a fine position fora command post, sheltered from attacks by the One Power.\n\nIt was so tempting to strike there himself, to Travel to it and lay waste. But was that what Lews Therin wanted? Demandred would fight the man. He would. However, Traveling into the enemy's stronghold and possibly a trap, surrounded as it was by those high rock walls... Better to draw Lews Therin to him. Demandred dominated this battlefield. He could choose where their confrontation would occur."
},
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"value": "The riverbed had been slowed to a muddy trickle below, and Demandred \"s Trollocs fought to seize the southern bank."
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"value": "The defenders held for now, but he would have them soon. Far upriver M'Hael had done his work well in diverting that water, though he had reported unusual resistance. Townspeople and a small unit of soldiers? An oddity that Demandred had not yet deciphered.\n\n, . H^ aC! L lm° St Wished for faiIure from M \"Hael. Though Demandred imself had been the one to recruit the man, he had not expected M'Hael to rise to the rank of Chosen so quickly.\n\nDemandred turned ro rhe side. Before him bowed three women, n black with white ribbons. Next to them, Shendla.\n\nShendla He had thought himself long past caring fora woman again-\n\nhow could affection thrive bestde the burnmg p, ss ion that was hts hatred\n\news erin. n yer, Shendla... Devious, capable, powerful. Almosc it was enough to change his heart.\n\n\"What is your report?\" he asked the three bowing women in black I he hunt was a failure,\" Galbrait said, her head low.\n\n\"He escaped?\"\n\nYeS! ^ yld] have faiIed y° u\"\" He heard the pain in the woman's voice, one was leader of the female Ayyad.\n\n\"You were not meant to kill him,\" Demandred said. \"He is a foe beyond your skill. You have disrupted his command post?\"\n\nk ij YeS'P aIbnUC Said\" We killed half a dozen° f his channelers, set the building aflame and destroyed his maps.\"\n\n\"Did he channel? Did he reveal himself?\"\n\nShe hesitated, then shook her head."
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"value": "So he could not know for certain yet if this Cauthon was Lews Therin in disguise Demandred suspected he was, but there were reports from Shayol Ghul that Lews Therin had been seen there, on the slopes of the mountain. He had proven devious in the Last Battle before, jumping between battlefields, showing himself here and there.\n\nThe more Demandred maneuvered against the enemy general, the\n\nmore he believed that Lews Therin was here. It would be very like Lews\n\nTherm to send a decoy north while coming to fight this battle himself.\n\nLews Therm had difficulty letting others fight for him. He always wanted\n\nto be doing everything himself, leading every battle-every charge if he could. 0\n\nYes. how else could Demandred explain the skill of the enemy general. Only a man with the experience of an ancient was so masterly at the ance of battlefields. At their core, many battle tactics were simple. Avoid being flanked, meet heavy force with pikes, infantry with a well-trained line channelers with other channelers. And yet, the finesse of it... the little details... these took centuries to master. No man from this Age had lived long enough to learn the details with such care.\n\nDuring the War of Power, the only thing that Demandred had ever done better than his friend was as a battle general. It stung to admit that,\n\nbut he would no longer hide from that truth. Lews Therin had been stronger in the One Power. Lews Therin had been better at capturing the hearts of men. Lews Therin had taken Ilyena.\n\nBut Demandred... Demandred had been better at war. Lews Therin had never been able to correctly balance caution and boldness. The man would hold back and deliberate, worrying over his decisions, until boiling forward in a reckless military action."
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"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If this Cauthon was Lews Therin, the man had grown better at that. The enemy general knew when to flip the coin and let fate rule, but did not let too much ride on each result. He would have made an excellent card player.\n\nDemandred would still defeat him, of course. The battle would merely be more... interesting.\n\nHe rested his hand on his sword, considering his scan of the battlefield moments before. His Trollocs continued their attack at the riverbed, and Lews Therin had formed his pikemen, opposite them, into disciplined square formations, a defensive move. Behind Demandred, the shaking booms of channelers marked the greater war, that between his Sharan Ayyad and the Aes Sedai.\n\nHe held the advantage there. His Ayyad were far better at war than the Aes Sedai. When would Cauthon commit those damane? Moghedien had reported some dissension between them and the Aes Sedai. Could Demandred widen the fracture there somehow?\n\nHe gave orders, and the three Ayyad nearby retreated. Shendla remained, waiting his permission to leave. He had her scouting the area nearby and watching for more assassins.\n\n'Are you worried?\"he asked her.\" You know now for which side we fight. So far as I know, you have not given yourself to the Shadow.\"\n\n\"I've given myself to you, Wyld.\"\n\n\"And for me you fight beside Trollocs? Halfmen? Creatures from nightmare?\"\n\n\"You said some would call your actions evil,\" she said. \"But I do not see them as such. Our path is clear. Once you are victorious, you will remake the world, and our people will be preserved.\" She took his hand, and something stirred within him. It was quickly smothered by his hatred."
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"value": "\"I would cast it all away,\" he said, looking into her eyes. \"Everything fora chance at Lews Therin.\"\n\n\"You have promised to try,\" she said. \"That will be enough. And if you destroy him, you will destroy one world and preserve another. I will follow you. We will follow you.\"\n\nHer voice seemed to imply that perhaps, once Lews Therin was dead, Demandred would be able to become his own man again.\n\nHe was not certain. Rule only interested him insofar as he could use it against his ancient enemy. The Sharans, devoted and faithful, were just a tool. But within him, there was something that wished it was not so. That was new. Yes, it was.\n\nThe air nearby warped, bending. No weaves were visible-this was a ripping of the fabric of the Pattern, Traveling by the True Power. M'Hael had arrived.\n\nDemandred turned, and Shendla released his arm, but did not leave his side. M'Hael had been given access to the Great Lord's essence. That did not make Demandred jealous. M'Hael was another tool. Still, it made him wonder. Was anyone denied the True Power, these days?\n\n\"You are going to lose the battle near the ruins, Demandred,\" M'Hael said with an arrogant smile. \"Your Trollocs there will be crushed. You had the enemy vastly outnumbered, and yet they still will defeat you! I thought you were supposed to be our greatest general, yet you lose to this rabble? I'm disappointed.\"\n\nDemandred raised his hand casually, two fingers up.\n\nM'Hael jerked as two dozen nearby Sharan channelers slammed shields between him and the One Power. They wrapped him in the Air, jerking him backward. He fought back, the air-warping aura of the True Power surrounding him, but Demandred was faster. He wove a True Power shield, building it from burning threads of Spirit."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The threads trembled in the air, each one barbed with twisting strands of energy so small, the ends vanished into nothing. The True Power was so volatile, so dangerous. A shield crafted from it had a strange effect, drinking in the power of another trying to channel it.\n\nDemandred's shield stole M'Hael's power, and used the manlike a conduit. Demandred gathered the True Power and wove it into a crackling ball of force above his hand. Only M'Hael would be able to see it, and the man's proud eyes opened wide as Demandred drained him.\n\nIt was not unlike a circle. The pulling of energy made M'Hael tremble, sweat, as he was held up by the weaves of Demandred's Ayyad. This flow could burn M'Hael out, if unchecked-could flay his soul with the rushing of the True Power, like a river surging beyond its banks. The twisting mass of threads in Demandred's hands pulsed and crackled, warping the air, beginning to unravel the Pattern.\n\nTiny spiderweb cracks spread out on the ground from him. Cracks into nothingness.\n\nHe walked up to M'Hael. The man began to have a seizure, froth dripping from his lips.\n\n\"You will listen tome, M'Hael,\" Demandred said softly. \" I am not as the other Chosen. I do not care one whit for your political games. I don't care which of you the Great Lord favors, which of you Moridin pats on the head. I care only for Lews Therin.\n\n\"This is my fight. You are mine. I brought you to the Shadow, and I can destroy you. If you interfere with what I do here, I will snuff you out like a candle. I realize you think yourself strong, with your stolen Dreadlords and untrained channelers. You area child, an infant. Take your men, create what chaos you wish, but stay out of my way. And stay away from my prize. The enemy general is mine.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "M'Hael's eyes, though his body betrayed him with trembles, were full of hatred, not fear."
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"value": "Yes, this one always had shown promise.\n\nDemandred turned his hand and launched a stream of balefire with the gathered True Power. The white-hot line of liquid destruction burned through the armies at the river below, vaporizing each manor woman it touched. Their forms became points of light, then dust, hundreds of them vanishing. He left along line of burned ground, like a furrow cut by an enormous cleaver.\n\n\"Release him,\" Demandred said, allowing the True Power shield to unravel.\n\nM'Hael stumbled back, keeping his feet, sweat dripping from his face. He gasped, hand raised to his chest.\n\n\"Stay alive through this battle,\" Demandred said to him, turning away and beginning a weave to summon his falcon back. \"If you do so, perhaps I will show you how to do as I just did. You may think you wish to kill me now, but know that the Great Lord watches. Beyond that, consider this. You may have a hundred pet Asha'man. I have over four hundred of my Ayyad. I am this world's savior.\"\n\nWhen he looked back, M'Hael was gone, having Traveled away with the True Power. It was amazing that he could summon the strength, after what Demandred had just done. He hoped he wouldn't have to kill the man. He should prove useful.\n\nI WILL WIN EVENTUALLY.\n\nRand stood before the blowing winds, stood strong, though his eyes watered as he stared into the darkness. How long had he been in this place? A thousand years? Ten thousand?\n\nFor the moment, he concerned himself only with defiance. He would not bend before this wind. He could not give in fora fraction of a heartbeat. THE TIME HAS COME, FINALLY."
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"value": "\"Time is nothing to you,\" Rand said.\n\nIt was true, and it was not. Rand could seethe threads swirling around him, forming the Pattern. As it formed, he saw the battlefields below him. Those he loved fighting for their lives. These were not possibilities; this was the truth, what was actually happening.\n\nThe Dark One wrapped around the Pattern, unable to take it and destroy it, but able to touch it. Tendrils of darkness, spines, touched the world at points all along its length. The Dark One lay like shadow upon the Pattern.\n\nWhen the Dark One touched the Pattern, time existed for him. And so, while time was nothing to the Dark One, he-or it, as the Dark One had no gender-could only work within its bounds. Like... like a sculptor who had marvelous visions and dreams but was still bound by the reality of the materials he worked with.\n\nRand stared at the Pattern, resisting the Dark Ones attack. He did not move or breathe. Breath wasn't needed here.\n\nPeople died below. Rand heard their screams. So many fell.\n\nI WILL WIN EVENTUALLY, ADVERSARY. WATCH THEM SCREAM. WATCH THEM DIE.\n\nTHE DEAD ARE MINE.\n\n\"Lies,\" Rand said.\n\nNO. I WILL SHOW YOU.\n\nThe Dark One spun possibility again, gathering up what could be, and thrust Rand into another vision.\n\nJuilin Sandar was not a commander. He was a thief-catcher, not some nobleman. Certainly not a nobleman. He worked on his own.\n\nExcept, apparently, when he ended upon a battlefield, put in charge of a squad of men because he had successfully captured dangerous men as a thief-catcher. The Sharans pressed against his men, aiming for the Aes Sedai. They fought on the western side of the Heights, and his squad's job was to protect the Aes Sedai from Sharan infantry."
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"value": "Aes Sedai. How had he ever gotten tangled up with Aes Sedai? Him, a good Tairen.\n\n\"Hold!\" Juilin yelled to his men. \"Hold!\" He yelled it for his own benefit, too. His squad held to their spears and pikes, forcing the Sharan infantry backward up the slope. He wasn't sure why he was here, or why they were fighting in this sector. He just wanted to stay alive!\n\nThe Sharans shouted and cursed in an unfamiliar tongue. They had a lot of those channelers, but the outfit he faced was made up of regular troops who used a variety of hand weapons, mostly swords and shields. Corpses littered the ground, and that made it difficult for both sides as Juilin and his men followed orders, pushing against the Sharan troops while the Aes Sedai and enemy channelers traded weaves.\n\nJuilin wielded a spear, a weapon he was only mildly familiar with. An armored Sharan squad forced its way between Myk and Charn's pikes. The officers wore breastplates, strangely wrapped in cloth of a variety of colors, while the common rank and file wore leather fitted with strips of metal. They all had their backs painted with strange patterns.\n\nThe leader of the Sharan troop wielded a wicked mace, smashing one pikeman, then the other. The man shouted at Juilin, curses he didn't understand.\n\nJuilin feinted, and the Sharan raised his shield, so Juilin rammed his spear into the man's armor at the gap between breastplate and arm. Light, he didn't even flinch! He smashed his shield into Juilin, forcing him back.\n\nThe spear slipped from Juilin's sweaty fingers. He cursed, reaching for his sword breaker, a weapon he knew well. Myk and the others fought nearby, engaging the rest of this Sharan squad. Charn tried to help Juilin, but the crazed Sharan brought his mace down on Charn's head-splitting it in two like a cracked walnut."
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"value": "\"Die, you bloody monster!\" Juilin cried, leaping forward and ramming his sword breaker into the man's neck just above the gorget. Other Sharans were moving quickly toward his position. Juilin fell back as the man in front of him collapsed and died. Justin time, as a Sharan to his left tried to take his head off with abroad swing of his sword. The tip of the sword went by his ear, and Juilin instinctively raised his own blade. His opponent's weapon broke in two, and he quickly dispatched the man with a backhand slice to the man's throat.\n\nJuilin scrambled to pickup his spear. Fireballs fell nearby, attacks from the Aes Sedai behind and the Sharans on the Heights ahead. Soil coated Juilin's hair, and stuck in clumps to the blood on his arms.\n\n\"Hold!\" Juilin shouted to his men. \"Burn you, we need to hold!\"\n\nHe attacked another Sharan who came at him. One of the pikemen raised his weapon in time to pin the man on the shoulder, and Juilin speared him through his leather-clad chest.\n\nThe air trembled. His ears rang faintly from all of the explosions. Juilin pulled back, yelling orders to his men.\n\nHe wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be someplace warm, with Amathera, thinking about the next criminal he needed to catch.\n\nHe figured that every man on the field felt they should be someplace else. The only thing to do was keep on fighting.\n\nYou look good in black, Androl sent to Pevara as they moved through the enemy army on top of the Heights.\n\nThat, she replied back, is something one should never, never say to an Aes Sedai. Ever."
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"value": "His only response was a sense of nervousness through the bond. Pevara understood. They-wearing inverted weaves of the Mask of Mirrors-walked among Darkfriends, Shadowspawn and Sharans. And it was working. Pevara wore a white dress and a black cloak over it-those weren't part of a weave-but anyone looking into her cloak's hood would seethe face of Alviarin, a member of the Black Ajah. Theodrin wore the face of Rianna.\n\nAndrol and Emarin wore weaves that gave them the faces of Nensen and Kash, two of Taim's cronies. Jonneth looked very unlike himself, wearing the face of a nondescript Darkfriend, and he played the part well, skulking behind and carrying their gear. One would never have seen the good-natured Two Rivers man in that hawk-faced man with the greasy hair and nervous manner.\n\nThey moved at a brisk pace along the back lines of the Shadow's army on the Heights. Trollocs hauled bundles of arrows forward; others left the lines to feast on piles of corpses. Cookpots boiled here. That shocked Pevara. They were stopping to eat? Now?\n\nOnly some of them, Androl sent. It's common for human armies too, though these moments don't make it into the ballads. The fighting has lasted all day, and soldiers need energy while fighting. Usually, you rotate in three batches. Your front lines, your reserves, and your off-duty-troops who will trudge away from the fight and eat as quickly as they can before grabbing a little sleep. Then back to the front lines.\n\nShe'd once seen war differently. She'd imagined every man committed every moment of the day. A true battle, however, was not a sprint; it was an extended, soul-grinding trudge."
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"value": "It was late afternoon already, approaching evening. To the east, below the Heights, battle lines extended far in both directions along the dry riverbed. Many thousands of men and Trollocs fought back and forth there. Large numbers of Trollocs fought there, but others were rotated backup the Heights to either eat or collapse into unconsciousness fora time.\n\nShe did not look too closely at the cookpots, though Jonneth fell to his knees and sicked up beside the path. He had noticed the body parts floating in the thick stew. Ashe emptied his stomach onto the ground, a passing group of Trollocs snorted and hooted in mockery.\n\nWhy are they pushing off the Heights to take the river? she sent to Androl. It seems to be a better position up here.\n\nMaybe it is, Androl sent. But the Shadow is the aggressor. If they stay in this position, it serves Cauthon s army. Demandred needs to keep pressing him. That means crossing the river.\n\nSo Androl understood tactics, too. Interesting.\n\nI've picked up a few things, he sent. I wont be leading a battle anytime soon.\n\nJust curious how many lives you've led, Androl.\n\nAn odd statement, coming from a woman who is old enough to be my grandmother's grandmother.\n\nThey continued along the eastern side of the Heights. Distant, on the far western side, the Aes Sedai were battling their way up to the top-but for now, the Heights were held by Demandred's forces. This area Pevara walked through was full of Trollocs. Some bowed in a lumbering way as Pevara and the others passed, others curled upon the stones to sleep, with no cushions or blankets. Each one kept its weapon at hand."
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"value": "\"This does not look promising,\" Emarin said softly from behind his mask. \"I do not see Taim associating with Trollocs anymore than he has to.\"\n\n\"Ahead,\" Androl said. \"Look there.\"\n\nThe Trollocs were separated from a group of Sharans who could be seen up ahead, wearing unfamiliar uniforms. They wore armor that was wrapped in cloth, so none of the metal showed except on the very back, though the shape of the breastplates was still obvious. Pevara looked to the others.\n\n\"I could see Taim being part of that group,\" Emarin said. \"It's likely to smell far less putrid than over here among the Trollocs, for one thing.\"\n\nPevara had been ignoring the stench-she had learned to do that years ago, snuffing out powerful scents in the same way she ignored heat and cold. As Emarin said it, however, a hint of what the others were smelling seeped through her defenses. She quickly regained control. It was awful.\n\n\"Will the Sharans let us pass?\" Jonneth asked.\n\n\"We shall see,\" Pevara said, setting off toward the Sharans; their group fell in around her. The Sharan guards maintained an uneasy line against the Trollocs, watching them as they would enemies. This alliance, or whatever it was, did not sit terribly well with the Sharan soldiers. They didn't try to mask their looks of disgust, and many had tied cloths around their faces to mask the odors.\n\nAs Pevara passed their line, a nobleman-or such she assumed him to be, from his armor of brazen rings-moved to confront her. A well-practiced Aes Sedai look staved him off. I am far too important for you to bother, that look said. It worked beautifully, and they were in."
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Sharan reserve camp was orderly as men rotated in from the west, where they fought the White Tower forces. The fierce channeling from that direction kept drawing Pevara's attention, like a bright light.\n\nWhat do you think? Androl sent to her.\n\nWe're going to need to talk to someone. The battlefield is just too big for us to find Taim on our own.\n\nHe sent back his agreement. Not for the first time, Pevara found their bond distracting. She not only had to deal with her own nervousness, but Androl's as well. That crept from the back of her mind, and she had to constrain it forcefully, using breathing exercises she'd learned when first in the Tower.\n\nShe stopped in the center of the camp, looking about, trying to decide whom to approach. She could distinguish servants from nobles. Approaching the former would be less dangerous, but also less likely to yield results. Maybe-\n\n\"You!\"\n\nPevara started, spinning around.\n\n\"You should not be here.\" The aged Sharan was completely bald, with a short graybeard. Twin sword hilts in the shape of serpents' heads peeked out over his shoulders; he wore the blades crossed at his back, and he carried a staff that had strange holes along its length. A flute of some sort?\n\n\"Come,\" the man said, his accent so thick, Pevara could barely make it out. \"The Wyld will need to see you.\"\n\nWho is the Wyld? Pevara sent Androl.\n\nHe shook his head, feeling as baffled as she did.\n\nThis could turnout very badly.\n\nThe old man stopped ahead of them with an annoyed expression. What would he do if they refused? Pevara was tempted to create a gateway for them to flee."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We follow, Androl thought, striding forward. Were never going to find Taim in this unless we talk to someone.\n\nPevara frowned as he walked after the man, the other Asha'man joining him. She hurriedly caught up. I thought we had decided I was in charge, she thought to him.\n\nNo, he replied, I thought that we'd decided you would act like you were in charge.\n\nShe sent back a calculated mix of cold displeasure and an implication that the conversation was not yet finished.\n\nAndrol sent back amusement. Did you... just glare at me mentally? That's impressive.\n\nWe're taking a risk, she sent back. This man could lead us into anything.\n\nYes, he replied.\n\nSomething smoldered inside of him, something only hinted at until now. You want Taim that badly?\n\n... Yes. I do.\n\nShe nodded.\n\nYou understand? he sent.\n\nI lost friends to him as well, Androl, she replied. I watched the? n betaken right in front of me. We have to be careful, though. We cant take too many risks. Not yet.\n\nIt's the end of the world\\ Pevara, Androl sent back. If we can't take risks now, when will we?\n\nShe followed without further argument, wondering at the determined focus she sensed in Androl. Taim had awoken something inside of him by taking his friends and Turning them to the Shadow.\n\nAs they followed the old Sharan, Pevara realized that she didn't understand what Androl was feeling, not completely. Aes Sedai friends of hers had been taken, but it wasn't the same as Androl losing Evin. Evin had trusted Androl, looked to Androl for protection. The Aes Sedai with Pevara had been acquaintances, friends, but it was different."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The old Sharan led them to a larger group of people, many of whom wore fine clothing. The highest noblemen and women among the Sharans didn't seem to fight, for not one of them carried a weapon. They made way for the older man, though several looked at his swords and sneered.\n\nJonneth and Emarin moved in around Pevara and Theodrin, one to each side, like bodyguards. They eyed the Sharans, hands on weapons, and she suspected that both were holding the One Power. Well, that would probably be expected of Dreadlords who were walking among allies they didn't fully trust. They didn't need to protect Pevara in such away, but it was a nice gesture. She had always thought it would be useful to have a Warder. She had gone to the Black Tower with the intention of taking multiple Asha'man as Warders. Perhaps...\n\nAndrol immediately felt jealous. What are you? Some Green with a flock of men fawning over her?\n\nShe sent back amusement. Why not?\n\nThey're too young for you, he sent back. Jonneth is, anyway. And Theodrin would fight you for him.\n\nI'm considering bonding them, she sent back, not bedding them, Androl Honestly. Besides, Emarin prefers men.\n\nAndrol paused. He does?\n\nOf course he does. Haven't you been paying attention?\n\nAndrol seemed baffled. Sometimes, men could be surprisingly dense, even observant ones like Androl.\n\nPevara embraced the One Power as they reached the center of the group. Would she have time to make a gateway if something went wrong? She did not know the area, but so long as she Traveled somewhere nearby, that wouldn't matter. She felt as if she was walking up to a noose and inspecting it, deciding how well it would fit her neck."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A tall man in armor made of silvery discs with holes in the middle stood at the center of the group, dispensing orders. As they watched, a cup moved toward him through the air. Androl stiffened. He's channeling, Pevara.\n\nDemandred, then? It must be. Pevara let saidar flood her with its warm glow, letting it wash away emotions. The old man who had been leading them stepped forward and whispered something to Demandred. Despite the enhanced senses of saidar, ; Pevara could not hear what was said.\n\nDemandred turned toward the group of them. \"What is this? Has M'Hael so quickly forgotten his orders?\"\n\nAndrol dropped to his knees, as did the others. Though it galled her, Pevara went down as well.\n\n\"Great One,\" Androl said, \"we were merely-\"\n\n\"No excuses!\" Demandred yelled. \"No games! M'Hael is to take all of his Dreadlords and destroy the White Tower forces. If I see any of you away from that fight, I will make you wish I'd given you to the Trollocs instead!\"\n\nAndrol nodded eagerly, then began backing away. A whip of Air Pevara could not see-although she could feel his pain through the bond-cracked him in the face. The rest of them followed after him, scrambling away with heads low.\n\nThat was foolish and dangerous, Pevara thought at Androl.\n\nAnd effective, he replied, eyes ahead, hand to his cheek, blood seeping between the fingers. We know Taim is on the battlefield for sure, and we know whereto find him. Let's move.\n\nGalad scrambled through a nightmare. He had known that the Last Battle might be the end of the world, but now... now he felt it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Channelers on both sides scourged one another, shaking Polov Heights."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lightning had struck so often that Galad could barely hear any longer, and his eyes watered from the pain of seeing blasts strike nearby.\n\nHe threw himself up against the hillside, digging his shoulder into the ground and ducking for cover as a series of explosions ripped up the earth in front of him. His team-twelve men in tattered white cloaks-dove for cover with him.\n\nThe White Tower's forces were strained under the attacks, but so were the Sharan forces. The power of so many channelers was incredible.\n\nThe main bulk of White Tower infantry and a large number of Sharan troops fought hereon the western Heights. Galad stayed on the perimeter of that battle, looking for Sharan channelers alone or in small groups. In many places here, the battle lines on both sides had fractured. Not surprising; it was near impossible to maintain solid battle lines with all of that power being flung back and forth.\n\nBands of soldiers scrambled about, seeking cover in blown-out holes in the rock. Others protected groups of channelers. Nearby, women and men roamed about in small groups, destroying soldiers with fire and lightning.\n\nThese were what Galad hunted.\n\nHe raised his sword, pointing at a trio of Sharan women holding at the top of the Heights. He and his men were more than halfway up the slope.\n\nThree. Three would be difficult. They turned their attention on a small band of men wearing the Flame of Tar Valon. Lightning struck the unfortunate soldiers.\n\nGalad held up four fingers. Plan four. He leaped out of his hollow and dashed toward the three women. His men waited a count of five, then followed behind.\n\nThe women saw him. If they'd remained turned away, Galad would have gained the advantage. One raised a hand and summoned Fire, hurling the weave at him. The flame struck him, and though he could feel its heat, the weave unraveled and dissipated-leaving him singed, but mostly unharmed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Sharan's eyes opened with shock. That look... that look was becoming familiar to Galad now. It was the look of a soldier whose sword had broken in battle, the look of one who had seen something that should not be. What did you do when the One Power failed, the thing you relied upon to raise you above common folk?\n\nYou died. Galad s sword took the woman's head off as one of her companions tried to seize him with Air. He felt the metal grow cold at his chest, and sensed the rush of Air moving around him.\n\nA poor choice, Galad thought, ramming his sword into the chest of a second woman. The third proved smarter, and she slammed him with a large rock. He barely raised his shield before the rock smashed into his arm, throwing him backward. The woman raised another stone right as Galad's team hither. She fell to their swords.\n\nGalad caught his breath, his head back, pain radiating from the impact of the rock. He groaned, sitting up. Nearby, his men hacked at the third Sharan woman's body. They didn't need to be so thorough, but some Children had strange ideas about what Aes Sedai could do. He'd caught Laird cutting off one of the Sharan women's heads to bury it separate from the body. Unless you did that, Laird claimed, they would return to life at the next full moon.\n\nAs the men butchered the other two corpses, Golever came over and offered Galad a hand. \"Light burn me,\" Golever said, a wide grin splitting his bearded face, \"if this isn't the finest work we've ever done, my Lord Captain Commander, I don't know what is!\"\n\nGalad stood up. \"It is what must be done, Child Golever.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I wish it had to be done more often! This is what the Children have awaited for centuries. You are the first to deliver it. The Light illumine you, Galad Damodred. The Light illumine you!\"\n\n\"May the Light illumine a day when men need not kill at all,\" Galad said tiredly. \"It is not fitting to take joy in death.\"\n\n\"Of course, my Lord Captain Commander.\" Golever continued grinning.\n\nGalad looked across the bloody pandemonium of the western slope of the Heights. The Light send Cauthon could make some sense of this battle, for Galad certainly could not.\n\n\"Lord Captain Commander!\" a frightened voice cried.\n\nGalad spun about, hand on his sword. It was Alhanra, one of his scouts.\n\n\"What is it, Child Alhanra?\" Galad asked as the spindly man ran up. No horses. They were on an incline, and the animals would not have reacted well to the lightning. Better to trust one's own feet.\n\n\"You need to see this, my Lord,\" Alhanra said, panting. \" It's... It's your brother\n\n\"Gawyn?\" Impossible. No, he thought. Not impossible. He would be with Egwene, fighting on their front. Galad ran after Alhanra, Golever and the others falling in around him.\n\nGawyn's body lay ashen-faced in a gap between two rocks on the top of the Heights. Nearby a horse was munching on grass, a trail of blood streaming down its side. By the looks of it, not the horse's blood. Galad knelt down beside the younger man's corpse. Gawyn had not died easily. But what of Egwene?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Peace, brother,\" Galad said, resting a hand on the body."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"May the Light-\"\n\n\"Galad...\" Gawyn whispered, his eyes fluttering open.\n\n\"Gawyn?\" Galad asked, shocked. Gawyn had a nasty gut wound. He wore some strange rings. There was blood everywhere. His hand, chest... his entire body....\n\nHow could the man still be alive?\n\nThe Warder bond' he realized. \"We need to carry you to a Healer! One of the Aes Sedai.\" He reached into the hollow, scooping up Gawyn.\n\n\"Galad... I failed.\" Gawyn stared at the sky, eyes blank.\n\n\"You did well.\"\n\n\"No. I failed. I should have... I should have stayed with her. I killed Hammar. Did you know that? I killed him. Light. I should have picked aside...\"\n\nGalad cradled his brother and began running along the slope toward the Aes Sedai. He tried to shelter Gawyn amid the attacks of channelers. After only a few moments, an explosion of earth ripped up among the Children, flinging them aside, tumbling Galad to the ground. He dropped Gawyn as he collapsed to the earth beside him.\n\nGawyn trembled, eyes staring distantly.\n\nGalad crawled over and tried to pick him up again, but Gawyn grabbed his arm, meeting his eyes. \"I did love her, Galad. Tell her.\"\n\n\"If you are truly bonded, then she knows.\"\n\n\"This will hurt her,\" Gawyn said through pale lips. \"And at the end of it, I failed. To kill him.\"\n\n\"Him?\"\n\n\"Demandred,\" Gawyn whispered. \"I tried to kill him, but I wasn't good enough. I've never... been quite good... enough. .\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Galad found himself in a very cold place. He had seen men die, he had lost friends. This hurt more. Light, but it did. He had loved his brother, loved him deeply-and Gawyn, unlike Elayne, had returned the sentiment.\n\n\"I will bring you to safety, Gawyn,\" Galad said, picking him up, shocked to find tears in his eyes. \"I will not be left without a brother.\"\n\nGawyn coughed. \"You won't be. You have another brother, Galad. One you do not know. A son of... Tigraine... who went into the Waste... Son of a Maiden. Born on Dragonmount....\"\n\nOh, Light.\n\n\"Don't hate him, Galad,\" Gawyn whispered. \"I always hated him, but I stopped. I... stopped...\"\n\nGawyn's eyes stopped moving.\n\nGalad felt fora pulse, then sat back, looking down at his dead brother. The bandage Gawyn had made for himself at his side seeped blood onto the dry ground below, which hungrily soaked it up.\n\nGolever moved up to him, helping Alhanra, whose blackened face and burned clothing smelled of smoke from the lightning strike. \"Take the wounded to safety, Golever,\" Galad said, standing. He reached up and felt the medallion at his neck. \"Take all of the men and go.\"\n\n\"And you, Lord Captain Commander?\" Golever asked.\n\n\"I will do what needs to be done,\" Galad said, cold inside. Cold as winter steel. \"I will bring Light to the Shadow. I will bring justice to the Forsaken.\"\n\nGawyn's thread of life vanished."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Egwene lurched to a stop on the battlefield."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Something severed within her. It was as if a knife suddenly tore into her and scooped out the piece of Gawyn inside, leaving only emptiness.\n\nShe screamed, falling to her knees. No. No, it couldn't be. She could feel him, just ahead! She'd been running for him. She could... She could...\n\nHe was gone.\n\nEgwene howled, opening herself to the One Power and drawing in as much as she could hold. She let it out as a wall of flames toward the Sharans who were all around now. They had once held the Heights, the Aes Sedai below, but it was madness now.\n\nShe assailed them with the Power, clutching Vora's sa'angreal. She would destroy them! Light! It hurt. It hurt so badly.\n\n\"Mother!\" Silviana cried, seizing her arm. \"You are out of control, Mother! You will kill our own people. Please!\"\n\nEgwene breathed in gasps. Nearby, a group of Whitecloaks stumbled by, carrying wounded down the hillside.\n\nSo close\\ Oh, Light. He was gone!\n\n\"Mother?\" Silviana said. Egwene barely heard. She touched her face, and found tears there.\n\nShe had been bold before. She had claimed she could keep fighting through the loss. How naive that was. She let the fire of saidar die within her. With that gone, life went out of her. She slumped to the side, and felt hands carrying her away. Through a gateway, off the battlefield.\n\nTam used his last arrow to save a Whitecloak. It wasn't something he'd have ever imagined himself doing, but there he was. The wolfish Trolloc stumbled back with the arrow through its eye, refusing to go down until the young Whitecloak pulled himself from the mud and struck at its knees."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "His men were now positioned on the catwalks of the palisade, shooting volleys of arrows at the Trollocs that had surged across the riverbed here. Their numbers were depleted, but there were still so many of them.\n\nUntil this point, the battle had been going well. Tam's combined forces spread out mightily along the river on the Shienaran side. Downriver the Legion of the Dragon, crossbow banners and heavy cavalry, stemmed the Trolloc advance. The same events were being played out here, farther upriver, with archers, foot soldiers and cavalry stopping the Trolloc incursion at the riverbed. Until the supplies began to dwindle and Tam was forced to withdraw his men to the relative safety of the palisade.\n\nTam looked to the side. Abell held up his bow, shrugging. He was out of arrows as well. All up and down the catwalk, the Two Rivers men held up their bows. No arrows.\n\n\"No more will becoming,\" Abell said softly. \"The lad said that batch was the last.\"\n\nThe Whitecloak army fought desperately, mixed with members of Perrin's Wolf Guard, but they were being pushed back from the riverbed in droves. They fought on three sides, and another force of Trollocs had just swung around to box them in entirely. The banner of Ghealdan flew closer to the ruins. Arganda held that position along with Nurelle and the remnants of the Winged Guard.\n\nIf this were any other battle, Tam would have had his men save their arrows to cover a retreat. There would be no retreat this day, and the order to loose had been the right one; the lads had taken their time with each shot. They'd likely killed thousands of Trollocs during the hours of fighting."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But what was an archer without his bow? Still a Two Rivers man, Tam thought. And still not willing to let this battle be lost.\n\n\"Off the catwalks and form up with weapons,\" Tam called to the lads. \"Leave the bows here. We will fetch them when more arrows come our way.\"\n\nMore arrows wouldn't come, but the Two Rivers men would be happier pretending that they might go back to their bows. They formed up into ranks as Tam had taught them, armed with spears, axes, swords, even some scythes. Everything and anything they'd had on hand, along with shields for those with axes or swords and good leather armor for them all. No pikes, unfortunately. After the heavy infantry had been outfitted, there hadn't been any of those left.\n\n\"Stay tight,\" Tam said to them. \"Form into two wedges. We'll push into the Trollocs around the Whitecloaks.\" Best thing to do-at least, the best Tam could come up with-was to hit those Trollocs that had just come around the back of the Whitecloaks, fragment them and help the Whitecloaks break free.\n\nThe men nodded, though they probably had very little understanding of the tactics. It didn't matter. So long as they kept disciplined ranks as Tam had taught them.\n\nThey started forward, running, and Tam was reminded of another battlefield. Snow, cutting into his face, blown by terrible winds. Ina way, that battlefield had begun this all. Now it ended here.\n\nTam placed himself at the point of the first wedge, then put Deoan-a man from Deven Ride who had served in the Andoran army-at the point of the other. Tam guided his men forward briskly, not letting them, or himself, dwell too much on what was about to happen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As they approached the hulking Trollocs, with their swords, polearms and battle-axes, Tam sought the flame and the void. Nervousness vanished. All emotion evaporated. He unsheathed the sword Rand had given him, the one with the dragons painted on the sheath. It was as fine a weapon as Tam had ever seen. Those folds in the metal whispered of ancient origin. It seemed too good a weapon for Tam. He had felt that way about every sword he'd ever used.\n\n\"Remember, hold formation!\" Tam yelled back at his men. \"Don't let them break us apart. If someone falls, one man steps up and takes his place while another pulls the fallen man into the center of the wedge.\"\n\nThey nodded back at him, and then they hit the Trollocs in the back, where they had surrounded the Children of the Light at the river.\n\nHis formations hit, pounding forward. The huge Trollocs turned to fight.\n\nFortuona waved away the so'jhin who tried to replace her regal clothing. She smelled of smoke from the fire, and her arms had been burned and scored in several places. She would not accept daynane Healing. Fortuona thought\n\nHealing to be a useful development-and some of her people were changing their attitudes toward it-but she was not certain the Empress should submit to it. Besides, her wounds were not dire.\n\nThe Deathwatch Guards kneeling before her would need some form of punishment. This was the second time they had allowed an assassin to reach her, and while she did not blame them for the failure, to deny them punishment would be to deny them their honor. It twisted her heart about, but she knew what she would have to do.\n\nShe gave the order herself. Selucia, as her Voice, should have done it-but Selucia's wounds were being tended. And Karede deserved this small honor of receiving his execution order from Fortuona herself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You will go to engage the enemy marattidamane directly,\" she ordered Karede. \"Each of you who was on duty. Fight valiantly for the Empire there, and try to slay the enemy's marattidamane.\"\n\nShe could see Karede relax. It was away to continue serving; he would probably have fallen on his own sword, if given the choice himself. This was a mercy.\n\nShe turned away from the man who had cared for her during her youth, the man who had defied what was expected of him. All for her. She would find her own penance for what she must do later. At this point, she would grant him the honor she could.\n\n\"Darbinda,\" she said, turning to the woman who insisted upon calling herself'Min\" despite the honor of anew name that Fortuona had given her. It meant'Girl of Pictures\" in the Old Tongue. \"You have saved my life and possibly that of the Prince of the Ravens. I name you of the Blood, Doom-seer. Let your name be venerated for generations to come.\"\n\nDarbinda folded her arms. How like Knotai she was. Stubbornly humble, these mainlanders. They were actually proud-proud-of their lowborn heritage. Baffling.\n\nKnotai himself sat on a nearby stump, receiving battle reports and snapping out orders. The Aes Sedai battle for the western Heights was descending into chaos. He met her eyes across the small gap between them, then nodded once.\n\nIf there was a spy-and Fortuona would be surprised if there was not one-then now was the time to mislead them. Everyone who had survived the attack was gathered around. Fortuona had insisted on having them close, ostensibly for the purpose of rewarding those who had served her well and meting punishment to those who had not. Each and every guard, servant and noble could hear as she spoke."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Knotai,\" she said, \"we have yet to discuss what I should do about you. The Deathwatch Guard has charge of my safety, but you have charge of the defense of this camp. If you suspected that our command post was not safe, why did you not speak earlier?\"\n\n\"Are you bloody suggesting that this is my fault?\" Knotai stood up and stilled the scouts' reports with a gesture.\n\n\"I gave you command here,\" Fortuona said. \"The ultimate responsibility for failure is yours then, is it not?\"\n\nNearby, General Galgan frowned. He did not see it this way. Others looked toward Knotai with accusing eyes. Noble sycophants; they would blame him because he wasn't born of the Seanchan. Impressive, that Knotai had converted Galgan so quickly. Or was Galgan telegraphing his emotions purposefully? Was he the spy? He could have been manipulating Suroth, or simply have been a redundant plant if Suroth failed.\n\n\"I'm not taking responsibility for this, Tuon,\" Knotai said. \"You are the one who bloody insisted on watching from the camp when you could have been somewhere safe.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I should have done just that,\" she replied coldly. \"This entire battle has been a disaster. You lose ground each moment. You talk lightly and joke, refusing proper protocol; I do not think you approach this with the solemnity befitting your station.\"\n\nKnotai laughed. It was aloud, genuine laugh. He was good at this. Fortuona thought she was the only one who saw the twin lines of smoke rising exactly behind him from the Heights. An appropriate omen for Knotai: a large gamble would yield large rewards. Ora great cost."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I've had it with you,\" Knotai said, waving a hand at her. \"You and your bloody Seanchan rules just keep getting in the way.\"\n\n\"Then I have had it with you as well,\" she said, raising her head. \"We should never have joined this battle. We would be better preparing to defend our own lands to the southwest. I will not let you throwaway the lives of my soldiers.\"\n\n\"Go, then,\" Knotai snarled. \"What do I care?\"\n\nShe spun about, stalking away. \"Come,\" she said to the others. \"Gather our damane. All but those Deathwatch Guards will Travel to our army's camp at the Erinin, then we will all return to Ebou Dar. We will fight the true Last Battle there once these fools have bloodied the Shadowspawn for us.\"\n\nHer people followed. Had the ploy been convincing? The spy had seen her consign to death men who loved her; would that show that she was reckless? Reckless and self-important enough to pull her troops away from\n\nKnotai? It was plausible enough. Ina way, she wanted to do as she said, and fight in the south instead.\n\nTo do that, of course, would be to ignore the breaking sky, the trembling land, and the Dragon Reborns fight. These were not omens she could let pass her by.\n\nThe spy did not know that. It could not know her. The spy would see a young woman, foolish enough to want to fight on her own. So she hoped.\n\nThe Dark One spun a web of possibility around Rand.\n\nRand knew this struggle between them-the fight for what could be-was vital to the Last Battle. Rand could not weave the future. He was not the Wheel, nor anything like it. For everything that had happened to him, he was still merely a man."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet, in him was the hope of humankind. Humankind had a destiny, a choice for its future. The path they would take... this battle would decide it, his will clashing with that of the Dark One. As of yet, what could be might become what would be. Breaking now would be to let the Dark One choose that future.\n\nBEHOLD, the Dark One said as the lines of light came together and Rand entered another world. A world that had not yet happened, but a world that very well might soon come to be.\n\nRand frowned, looking up at the sky. It was not red in this vision, the landscape not ruined. He stood in Caemlyn, much as he knew it. Oh, there were differences. Steamwagons rattled down the streets, mingling with the traffic of horse-drawn carriages and crowds walking.\n\nThe city had expanded beyond the new wall-he could see that from the height of the central hill he stood upon. He could even make out the place where Talmanes had blown a hole in the wall. It had not been repaired. Instead, the city had spilled out through it. Buildings covered what had once been fields outside.\n\nRand frowned, turning and walking down the street. What game was the Dark One playing? Surely this normal, even prosperous, city would not be part of his plans for the world. The people were clean and did not look oppressed. He saw no sign of the depravity that had marked the previous world the Dark One had created for him.\n\nCurious, he walked up to a stand where a woman sold fruit. The slender woman gave him an inviting smile, gesturing toward her wares. \"Welcome, good sir. I am Renel, and my shop is a second home to all seeking the finest of fruits from around the world. I have fresh peaches from Tear!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Peaches!\" Rand said, aghast. Everyone knew those were poisonous.\n\n\"Ha! Fear not, good sir! These have had the toxin removed. They areas safe as I am honest.\" The woman smiled, taking a bite of one to prove it. As she did, a grubby hand appeared from under the fruit stand-an urchin hid underneath, a young boy that Rand had not noticed earlier.\n\nThe little boy snatched a red fruit of a type Rand did not recognize, then dashed off. He was so thin that Rand could see his ribs pressing against the skin of his too-small form, and he ran on legs so slender that it was a wonder the boy could walk.\n\nThe woman continued smiling at Rand as she reached to her side, took out a small rod with a lever at the side for her finger. She pulled the lever, and the rod cracked.\n\nThe urchin died in a spray of blood. He fell, sprawling, to the ground. People moved around him in the flow of traffic, though somebody-a man with many guards-did scoop up the piece of fruit. He wiped the blood off of it and took a bite, continuing on his way. A few moments later, a steam-wagon rolled over the corpse, pressing it into the muddy roadway.\n\nRand, aghast, looked back at the woman. She tucked away her weapon, a smile still on her face. \"Were you looking for any type of fruit in particular?\" she asked him.\n\n\"You just killed that child!\"\n\nThe woman frowned in confusion. \"Yes. Did it belong to you, good sir?\"\n\n\"No, but. .\" Light! The woman didn't show a hint of remorse or concern. Rand turned, and nobody else seemed to care in the slightest about what had happened."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Sir?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "the woman asked. \"I feel as if I should know you. That is fine clothing, if a little out of style. To which faction do you belong?\"\n\n\"Faction?\" Rand asked, looking back.\n\n\"And where are your guards?\" the woman asked. \"A man as rich as you has them, of course.\"\n\nRand met her eyes, then ran to the side as the woman reached for her weapon again. He ducked around a corner. The look in her eyes... utter lack of any kind of human sympathy or concern. She'd have killed him in a moment without a second thought. He knew it.\n\nOthers on the street saw him. They nudged companions, gesturing toward him. One man he passed called out, \"Speak your faction!\" Others gave chase.\n\nRand ducked around another corner. The One Power. Dared he use it? He didn't know what was going on in this world. As before, he had trouble\n\nseparating himself from the vision. He knew that it wasn't completely real, but he couldn't help believing himself part of it.\n\nHe didn't risk the One Power, and trusted his own feet for now. He did not know Caemlyn terribly well, but he did remember this area. If he reached the end of this street and turned... yes, there! Ahead, he saw a familiar building, with a sign out front showing a man kneeling before a woman with red-gold hair. The Queen's Blessing.\n\nRand reached the front doors as those chasing him piled around the corner behind. They stopped as Rand scrambled up to the door, passing a brutish fellow standing to the side. Anew door guard? Rand did not know him. Did Basel Gill still own the inn, or had it changed hands?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Rand burst into the large common room, heart thumping."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Several men nursing pitchers of afternoon ale looked up at him. Rand was in luck; Basel Gill himself stood behind the counter, rubbing a cup with a cloth.\n\n\"Master Gill!\" Rand said.\n\nThe stout man turned, frowning. \"Do I know you?\" He looked Rand up and down. \"My Lord?\"\n\n\"It's me, Rand!\"\n\nGill cocked his head, then grinned. \"Oh, you! I'd forgotten you. Your friend isn't with you, is he? The one with the dark look to his eyes?\"\n\nSo people did not recognize Rand as the Dragon Reborn in this place. What had the Dark One done to them?\n\n\"I need to speak with you, Master Gill,\" Rand said, striding toward a private dining chamber.\n\n\"What is it, lad?\" Gill asked, following after. \"Are you in trouble of some sort? Again?\"\n\nRand shut the door after Master Gill. \"What Age are we in?\"\n\n\"The Fourth Age, of course.\"\n\n\"So the Last Battle happened?\"\n\n\"Yes, and we won!\" Gill said. He looked at Rand closely, narrowing his eyes. \"Are you all right, son? How could you not know...\"\n\n\"I spent my time in the woods these last years,\" Rand said. \"Frightened of what was happening.\"\n\n\"Ah, then. You don't know about the factions?\"\n\n\"No\"\n\n\"Light, son! You're in some meaty trouble. Here, I'll get you a faction symbol. You'll need one in a hurry!\" Gill pulled open the door and bustled out.\n\nRand folded his arms, noticing with displeasure that the fireplace in the room contained a nothingness beyond it. \"What have you done to them?\" Rand demanded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I LET THEM THINK THEY WON.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nMANY WHO FOLLOW ME DO NOT UNDERSTAND TYRANNY.\n\n\"What does that have to do with-\" Rand cutoff as Gill returned. He bore no'faction symbol,\" whatever that was. Instead, he'd gathered three thick-necked guards. He pointed in, toward Rand.\n\n\"Gill...\" Rand said, backing away and seizing the Source. \"What are you doing?\"\n\n\"Well, I figure that coat will sell for something,\" Gill said. He didn't sound the least bit apologetic.\n\n\"And so you'll rob me?\"\n\n\"Well, yes.\" Gill seemed confused. \"Why wouldn't I?\"\n\nThe thugs stepped into the room, looking Rand over with careful eyes. They carried cudgels.\n\n\"Because of the law,\" Rand said.\n\n\"Why would there be laws against theft?\" Gill asked, shaking his head. \"What manner of person are you, to think such things? If a man cannot protect what he has, why should he have it? If a man cannot defend his life, what good is it to him?\"\n\nGill waved the three men forward. Rand bound them in cords of Air.\n\n\"You took their consciences, didn't you?\" he asked softly.\n\nGill's eyes widened at the use of the One Power. He tried to run. Rand grabbed him in cords of Air as well.\n\nMEN WHO THINK THEY ARE OPPRESSED WILL SOMEDAY FIGHT. I WILL REMOVE FROM THEM NOT JUST THEIR WILL TO RESIST, BUT THE VERY SUSPICION THAT SOMETHING IS WRONG."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"So you leave them without compassion?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rand demanded, looking into Gill's eyes. The man seemed terrified that Rand would kill him, as did the three thugs. No remorse. Not a bit of it.\n\nCOMPASSION IS NOT NEEDED.\n\nRand felt deathly cold. \"This is different from the world you showed me before.\"\n\nWHAT I SHOWED BEFORE IS WHAT MEN EXPECT. IT IS THE EVIL THEY THINK THEY FIGHT. BUT I WILL MAKE A WORLD WHERE THERE IS NOT GOOD OR EVIL.\n\nTHERE IS ONLY ME.\n\n\"Do your servants know?\" Rand whispered. \"The ones you name Chosen? They think they fight to become lords and rulers over a world of their own making. Instead you will give them this. The same world... except one without Light.\"\n\nTHERE IS ONLY ME.\n\nNo Light. No love of men. The horror of it sank deep within Rand, shaking him. This was one of the possibilities that the Dark One could choose, if he won. It didn't mean he would, or that it had to happen, but... oh Light, this was terrible. Far more terrible than a world of captives, far more terrible than a dark land with a broken landscape.\n\nThis was true horror. This was a full corruption of the world, it was taking everything beautiful from it, leaving behind only a husk. A pretty husk, but still a husk.\n\nRand would rather live a thousand years of torture, retaining the piece of himself that gave him the capacity for good, than live a moment in this world without Light.\n\nHe turned, enraged, upon the darkness. It consumed the far wall, growing larger. \"You make a mistake, Shai'tan!\" Rand yelled at that nothingness. \"You think to make me despair? You think to shatter my will? This will not do it, I swear to you. This makes me sure to fight!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Something rumbled inside of the Dark One. Rand yelled, pushing outward with his will, shattering the dark world of lies and men who would kill without empathy. It exploded into threads, and Rand was once again in the place outside of time, the Pattern rippling around him.\n\n\"You show me your true heart?\" Rand demanded of the nothingness as he seized those threads. \" I will show you mine, Shai'tan. There is an opposite to this Lightless world you would create.\n\n\"A world without Shadow.\"\n\nMat stalked away, calming his anger. Tuon had seemed really angry at him! Light. She would comeback when he needed her to, would she not?\n\n\"Mat?\" Min said, hurrying up beside him.\n\n\"Go with her,\" Mat said. \"Keep an eye on her for me, Min.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"She doesn't need much protecting,\" Mat said. \"She's a strong one. Bloody ashes, but she is. She does need watching, though. She worries me, Min. Anyway, I have this bloody war to win. I can't do that and go with her. So would you go and watch her? Please?\"\n\nMin slowed, then gave him an unexpected hug. \" Luck, Matrim Cauthon.\n\n\"Luck, Min Farshaw,\" Mat said. He let her go, then shouldered his ashandarei. The Seanchan had begun leaving Dashar Knob, pulling back to the Erinin before leaving the Field of Merrilor altogether. Demandred would let them go; he would be a fool not to. Blood and bloody ashes, what was Mat getting himself into? He had just sent away a good quarter of his troops.\n\nThey'll comeback, he thought. If his gamble worked. If the dice fellas he needed them."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 10"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ila looked at him.\n\nHe shook his head, sighing. \"I am not going to abandon the Way, Ila. It is my path, and it is right for me. Perhaps... perhaps I will not think quite so poorly of those who follow another path. If we live through these times, we will do so at the bequest of those who died on this battlefield, whether we wish to accept their sacrifice or not.\"\n\nHe trailed away. It's just the darkness of the night, she thought. He will overcome it, once the sun shines again. That's the right of it. Isn't it?\n\nShe looked up at the night sky. That sun... would they be able to tell when it rose? The clouds, lit from the fires below, seemed to be growing thicker and thicker. She pulled her bright yellow shawl closer, feeling suddenly cold.\n\nPerhaps I will not think quite so poorly of those who follow another path...\n\nShe blinked a few tears from her eyes. \"Light,\" she whispered, something twisting inside. \"I shouldn't have turned my back on him. I should have tried to help him return to us, not cast him out. Light, oh Light. Shelter him...\"\n\nNearby, a group of mercenaries found the arrows and picked them up. \"Hey, Hanlon!\" one called. \"Look at this!\"\n\nWhen the brutish men had originally started helping with the Tuatha'an work, she had been proud of them. Avoiding battle to help care for the wounded? The men had seen beyond their violent past.\n\nNow, she blinked and saw something else about them. Cowards, who would rather pick through corpses and fish in their pockets than fight. Which was worse? The men who-misguided though they were-stood up to the Trollocs and tried to turn them back? Or these mercenaries who refused to fight because they found this path easier?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ila shook her head. She had always felt as if she knew the answers in life. Today, most of those had slipped from her. Saving a person's life, though... that she could cling to.\n\nShe headed back among the bodies, searching for the living among the dead.\n\nOlver scuttled back under the wagon, clutching the Horn, as Lady Faile rode off. Dozens of riders followed her, and hundreds of Trollocs. It had grown so dark.\n\nAlone. He'd been left alone again.\n\nHe squeezed his eyes shut, but that didn't do much. He could still hear men screaming and shouting in the distance. He could still smell blood, the captives who had been killed by the Trollocs as they tried to escape. Beyond the blood, he smelled smoke, thick and itchy. It seemed that the whole world was burning.\n\nThe ground trembled, as if something very heavy had hit it somewhere close by. Thunder rumbled in the sky, accompanied by sharp cracks as lightning struck time and time again at the Heights. Olver whimpered.\n\nHow brave he had thought himself. Now, here he was, finally at the battle. He could barely keep his hands from trembling. He wanted to hide, dig deep into the earth.\n\nFaile had told him to find another place to hide because they might comeback, looking for the Horn.\n\nDared he go out there? Dared he stay here? Olver cracked his eyes open, then nearly screamed. A pair of legs ending in hooves stood beside the wagon. A moment later, a snouted face leaned down and looked at him, beady eyes narrowing, nostrils sniffing.\n\nOlver yelled, scrambling back, clutching the Horn. The Trolloc yelled something, heaving the wagon over and nearly smashing it down on Olver. The wagon's contents of arrows went scattering across the ground as Olver dashed away, looking for safety."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was none. Dozens of the Trollocs turned toward him, and they called to one another in a language Olver did not recognize. He looked about, Horn in one hand, knife in the other, frantic. No safety.\n\nA horse snorted nearby. It was Bela, chewing on some grain leaked from a supply cart. The horse raised her head, looking at Olver. She didn't have a saddle on, only a halter and bridle.\n\nBlood and ashes, Olver thought, running for her, I wish I had Wind. This plump mare would end him in the cookpot for certain. Olver sheathed his knife and jumped up onto Bela's back, seizing the reins in one hand, clutching the Horn in the other.\n\nThe pig-snouted Trolloc from the wagon swung, nearly taking off Olver's arm. He cried out, kicking Bela into motion, and the mare galloped out from among the Trollocs. The beasts ran behind with howls and yells. Other calls sounded throughout the camp, which was nearly emptying out as they converged on the boy.\n\nOlver rode as he'd been taught, down low, guiding with his knees. And Bela ran. Light, but she ran. Mat had said that many horses were frightened of Trollocs, and would throw their rider if forced near them, but this animal did none of that. She thundered right past howling Trollocs, right through the center of the camp.\n\nOlver looked over his shoulder. There were hundreds of them back there, chasing him. \"Oh, Light!\"\n\nHe'd seen Mat's banner atop those Heights, he was sure of it. But there were so many Trollocs in the way. Olver turned Bela to ride the way Aravine had gone. Perhaps he could round the Trolloc camp and get out that way, then come up the back of the Heights."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Take the Horn to Mat, or all is lost.\n\nOlver rode for all he was worth, urging Bela on.\n\nThere is nobody else.\n\nAhead, a large force of Trollocs cut him off. Olver turned back the other way, but others approached from that direction, too. Olver cried out, turning Bela again, but a thick black Trolloc arrow hither in the flank. She screamed and stumbled, then dropped.\n\nOlver tumbled free. Hitting the ground knocked the air from his lungs and made him see a flash of light. He forced himself to crawl to his hands and knees.\n\nThe Horn must reach Matrim Cauthon...\n\nOlver grabbed the Horn, and found that he was weeping. \"Im sorry,\" he said to Bela. \"You were a good horse. You ran like Wind couldn't have. I'm sorry.\" She whinnied softly and drew a final breath, then died.\n\nHe left her and ran beneath the legs of the first Trolloc that arrived. Olver couldn't fight them. He knew he couldn't. He didn't unsheathe the knife. He just ran up the steep slope, trying to reach the top from where he had seen Mat's flag fall.\n\nIt might as well have been a continent away. A Trolloc grabbed at his clothing, pulling him down, but Olver ripped free, leaving cloth in its thick nails. He scrambled over broken ground, and with desperation, spotted a little cleft in a rocky outcrop at the base of the slope. The shallow crack looked up at the black sky.\n\nHe threw himself toward it, then wiggled in, clinging to the Horn. He barely fit. Trollocs milled around above him, then began to reach in for him, tearing at his clothing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Olver whimpered and closed his eyes.\n\nLogain hurled himself through the gateway, weaves already forming before him as he struck at Demandred.\n\nThe man stood on the smoldering slope that looked over the dried river and toward the failing Andoran pike formations. The Aiel, Cairhienin and Legion of the Dragon fought there as well, and all were in danger of being surrounded.\n\nThe pikes were all but shattered, now. It would soon be a rout.\n\nLogain launched twin columns of fire toward Demandred, but Sharans threw themselves in the way, interfering with his attack. Flesh burned away, bones charring to dust. Their deaths gave Demandred time to spin about and lash outwith a weave of Water and Air. Logain's burst of fire hit that and turned to steam, then boiled away.\n\nLogain had hoped that after so much channeling, Demandred would be weakened. Not so. A complex weave formed in front of the man, a weave such as Logain had never seen. It made afield that rippled in the air, and when Logain next attacked, his weave bounced free like a stick thrown against a brick wall.\n\nLogain leaped to the side, rolling as lightning struck from the sky. Shards of rock pelted him as he wove Spirit, Fire and Earth, slicing at the strange wall. He ripped it down, then lobbed broken bits of stone from the ground to intercept fire from Demandred.\n\nA diversion, Logain thought, realizing that Demandred had woven something else, more complex, behind the fire. A gateway opened and shot across the ground, opening to a maw of redness. Logain threw himself to the side as the Deathgate passed, but it left a trail of burning lava."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Demandred s next attack was a jet of air that hurled Logain backward, toward that lava."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Logain desperately wove Water to cool the lava. He hit shoulder-first, passing a burst of steam that scalded his skin, but he had cooled the lava enough that it formed a crust atop the still-molten flow beneath. Holding his breath against the steam, he hurled himself to the side as another series of lightning bolts pulverized the ground where he had been.\n\nThose bolts shattered the crust he'd made, reaching into the molten rock. Drops of lava splashed across Logain, searing his skin, burning pocks in his arm and face. He screamed and wove through his rage to send lightning down on his foe.\n\nA slice of Spirit, Earth and Fire cut his weaves from the air. Demandred was just so strong. That saangreal was incredible.\n\nThe next flash of lightning blinded Logain, throwing him backward. He hit a patch of broken shale, the points of the rock biting into his skin.\n\n\"You are powerful,\" Demandred said. Logain could barely hear the words. His ears... the thunder...\"But you are not Lews Therin.\"\n\nLogain growled, weaving through his tears, hurling lightning at Demandred. He wove twice, and though Demandred cut one bolt from the air, the other struck true.\n\nBut... what was that weave? It was another that Logain did not recognize. The lightning hit Demandred, but vanished, somehow sent down into the ground and dissipated. Such a simple weave of Air and Earth, but it rendered the lightning useless.\n\nA shield rammed between Logain and the Source. Through his wounded eyes, he watched the weave for balefire begin in Demandred s hands. Snarling, Logain grabbed apiece of shale from the ground beside him, the size of his fist, and hurled it at Demandred."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Surprisingly, the stone hit, ripping skin, causing Demandred to stumble back. The Forsaken was powerful, but he could still make the mistakes of common men. Never focus all of your attention on the One Power, despite what Taim had always said. In that moment of distraction, the shield between Logain and the Source vanished.\n\nLogain rolled to the side, beginning two weaves. One, a shield of his own that he did not intend to use. The other, a desperate, final gateway. The coward's choice.\n\nDemandred growled, raising a hand to his face and lashing outwith the Power. He chose to destroy the shield, immediately recognizing it as the greater risk. The gateway opened, and Logain rolled through, letting it snap closed. He collapsed on the other side, his flesh scalded, his arms flayed, his ears ringing, his sight almost gone.\n\nHe forced himself to sit up, back in the Asha'man camp below the bogs where Gabrelle and the others awaited his return. He howled in anger. Ga-brelle's concern radiated through the bond. Real concern. He hadn't imagined it. Light.\n\n\"Quiet,\" she said, kneeling beside him. \"You fool. What have you done to yourself?\"\n\n\"I have failed,\" he said. Distantly, he felt the strikes of Demandred's power begin again as he continued bellowing for Lews Therin. \"Heal me.\"\n\n\"You're not going to try that again, are you?\" she said. \"I don't want to Heal you only to let you-\"\n\n\"I won't try again,\" Logain said, voice ragged. The pain was horrible, but it paled compared to the humiliation of defeat. \"I won't, Gabrelle. Stop doubting my word. He's too strong.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Some of these burns are bad, Logain. These holes in your skin, I don't know if I can Heal them completely. You will be scarred.\"\n\n\"That is fine,\" he growled. That would be where the lava had splashed on his arm and the side of his face.\n\nLight, he thought. How are we going to deal with that monster?\n\nGabrelle put her hands on him and Healing weaves poured into his body.\n\nThe thunder of Egwene's battle with M'Hael rivaled that of the crashing clouds above. M'Hael. Anew Forsaken, his name proclaimed by his Dreadlords across the battlefield.\n\nEgwene wove without thought, hurling weave after weave toward the renegade Asha'man. She had not called upon the wind, but still it rushed and roared about her, whipping her hair and her dress, catching her stole and flipping it about. Narishma and Merise huddled with Leilwin on the ground beside her, Narishma's voice-barely audible above the battle-calling out weaves as M'Hael crafted them.\n\nFollowing her advance, Egwene stood upon the top of the Heights, on even ground with M'Hael. She knew, somewhere deep, that her body would need rest soon.\n\nFor now, that was an unaffordable luxury. For now, only the fight mattered.\n\nFire flared toward her, and she slapped it aside with Air. The sparks caught in the wind, swirling about her in a spray of light as she wove Earth. She sent a ripple through the already-broken ground, trying to knock M'Hael down, but he split the wave with a weave of his own."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He's slowing, she thought.\n\nEgwene stepped forward, swollen with power. She began two weaves, one above each hand, and spouted fire at him.\n\nHe responded with a bar of pure whiteness, wire-thin, which missed her by less than a handspan. The balefire left an afterimage in Egwene's eyes, and the ground groaned beneath them as the air warped. Those spiderwebs sprang out across the ground, fractures into nothingness.\n\n\"Fool!\" she yelled at him. \"You will destroy the Pattern itself!\" Already, their clash threatened that. This wind was not natural, this sizzling air. Those cracks in the ground spread from M'Hael, widening.\n\n\"He's weaving it again!\" Narishma cried, voice caught in the tempest.\n\nM'Hael released this second weave of balefire, fracturing the ground, but Egwene was ready. She sidestepped, her anger building. Balefire. She needed to counter it!\n\nThey don't care what they ruin. They are hereto destroy. That is their master's call. Break. Burn down. Kill.\n\nGawyn...\n\nShe screamed in fury, weaving column after column of fire, one after another. Narishma shouted what M'Hael was doing, but Egwene couldn't hear for the rush of sound in her ears. She saw soon, anyway, that he had constructed a barrier of Air and Fire to deflect her attacks.\n\nEgwene strode forward, sending repeated strikes at him. That gave him no time to recover, no time to attack. She stopped the rhythm only to form a shield that she held at the ready. A spray of fire off his barrier made him stumble back, his weave cracking, and he raised his hand, perhaps to attempt balefire again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene slammed the shield between him and the Source. It didn't quite cut him off, for he held it back by force of will. They were near enough now that she could see his incredulity, his anger. He fought back, but was weaker than she. Egwene pushed, bringing that shield closer and closer to the invisible thread that connected him to the One Power. She forced it with all her strength...\n\nM'Hael, straining, released a small stream of balefire upward, through the gap where the shield had not yet fallen into place. The balefire destroyed the weave-as it did the air, and indeed, the Pattern itself.\n\nEgwene stumbled back as M'Hael directed the weave toward her, but the white-hot bar was too small, too weak, to reach her. It faded away before hitting. M'Hael snarled, then vanished, warping the air in a form of Traveling Egwene did not know.\n\nEgwene breathed deeply, holding her hand to her chest. Light! She had almost been obliterated from the Pattern.\n\nHe disappeared without forming a gateway! The True Power, she thought. The only explanation. She knew next to nothing about it-it was the Dark One's very essence, the lure that had coaxed channelers in the Age of Legends to drill the Bore in the first place.\n\nBalefire. Light. I was almost dead. Worse than dead.\n\nShe had noway to counter balefire.\n\nIt's only a weave... Only a weave. Perrin's words.\n\nThe moment was past now, and M'Hael had fled. She would have to keep Narishma close to warn her if someone started channeling nearby."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Unless M'Hael uses the True Power again. Would another man be able to sense that being channeled?\n\n\"Mother!\"\n\nEgwene turned as Merise gestured toward where most of the Aes Sedai and Asha'man were still engaged in a resounding battle with the Sharan forces. Many sisters in colorful dresses lay dead across the hillside.\n\nGawyn's death haunted her thoughts like an assassin in black. Egwene set her jaw and stoked her anger, drawing in the One Power as she launched herself at the Sharans.\n\nHurin, his nostrils stuffed with cloth, fought on Polov Heights with the other Borderlanders.\n\nEven through the cloth, he smelled the war. So much violence, the scents of blood, of rotting flesh all around him. They coated the ground, his sword, his own clothing. He had already been ill, violently, several times during the battle.\n\nStill he fought. He threw himself aside as a bear-snouted Trolloc crawled over the bodies and swung down at him. The beasts sword made the ground shake, and Hurin cried out.\n\nThe beast laughed an inhuman laugh, taking Hurin's cry to indicate fear. It lunged, so Hurin scuttled forward and under its reach, then opened up its stomach as he ran past. The creature stumbled to a stop, watching at its own reeking innards pour out.\n\nHave to buy time for Lord Rand, Hurin thought, backing away and waiting for the next Trolloc to come over the bodies. They were coming up the eastern side of the Heights, the riverside. This steep slope was hard for them to climb, but Light, there were so many of them.\n\nKeep fighting, keep fighting."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Rand had come to him, making apologies. To him! Well, Hurin would do him proud. The Dragon Reborn did not need the forgiveness of a little thief-taker, but Hurin still felt as if the world had righted itself Lord Rand was Lord Rand again. Lord Rand would preserve them, if they could give him enough time.\n\nThere was a lull in the action. He frowned. The beasts had seemed endless. Surely they hadn't all fallen. He stepped cautiously forward, looking over the corpses and down the slope.\n\nNo, no they weren't defeated. The sea of beasts seemed near-endless still. He could see them by the light of fires below. The Trollocs had paused their climb because they needed to move corpses out of their way on the slope, many of whom had been cut down by Tam's archers. Below them, at the riverbed, the greater army of Trollocs fought Elayne's army.\n\n\"We should have a few minutes,\" Lan Mandragoran said to the soldiers from where he sat on horseback. Queen Alliandre rode nearby as well, talking calmly with her men. Two monarchs within sight. Surely they knew how to exercise command. That made Hurin feel better.\n\n\"They're preparing fora final charge,\" Lan said, \"a push to force us away from the slope so they can fight us up hereon even ground. Rest while they clear bodies. Peace favor your swords, friends. The next assault will be the worst one.\" The next assault would be the worst one? Light!\n\nBehind them on the middle of the plateau, the rest of Mat's army continued pressing the Sharan army, trying to push them back to the southwest. If he could do that, and force them down the slope into the Trollocs fighting Elayne's forces, it could create aright mess that Mat could take advantage of. But for the moment, the Sharans were not giving an inch of ground; in fact, they were pushing back Mat's army, which was beginning to founder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hurin lay back, listening to the moans all around, the distant shouts and ringing of weapons hitting metal, sniffing the stink of violence hanging around him in an ocean of stenches.\n\nThe worst still to come.\n\nLight help them...\n\nBerelain used a rag to wipe the blood from her hands as she strode into the feast hall of her palace. The tables had been chopped apart for firewood to stoke the enormous hearths at either end of the long room; in place of the furniture lay rows upon rows of wounded.\n\nThe doors from the kitchens burst open and a group of Tinkers entered, some carrying litters and others helping wounded men limp into the room. Light! Berelain thought. More? The palace was stuffed to bursting with the wounded.\n\n\"No, no!\" she said, stalking forward. \"Not inhere. The back hallway. Were going to have to start putting them there. Rosil! We have new wounded.\"\n\nThe Tinkers turned toward the hallway, speaking in comforting tones to the wounded men. Only those who could be saved were brought back. She had been forced to instruct the leaders among the Tuatha'an women as to which types of wounds took too much effort to Heal. Better to save ten men with bad wounds than to expend the same energy trying to rescue one man who clung to life by a single blade of hope.\n\nThat moment of explanation had been one of the grimmest things she'd ever done.\n\nThe Tinkers continued moving in a line, and Berelain watched the wounded for glimpses of white clothing. There were Whitecloaks among them, but not the one she sought.\n\nSo many... she thought again. The Tinkers had no help moving the wounded. Every able-bodied man in the palace, and most women, had gone to the battlefield to fight or help the Caemlyn refugees gather arrows."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Rosil bustled up, her clothing stained with blood that she ignored."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She immediately took charge of the wounded, eyeing them for any who needed immediate attention. Unfortunately, the doors to the kitchen burst open at that moment, and a group of bloodied Andorans and Aiel stumbled through, sent by the Kinswomen from another area of the battlefield.\n\nWhat followed was near madness as Berelain chivvied out everyone she had-grooms, the elderly, some children as young as five-to help settle the newcomers. Only the worst of the Aiel came through; they had a ten-\n\ndency to remain on the battlefield as long as they could hold a weapon. That meant many who came to her were beyond help. She had to settle them in space she couldn't afford and watch them heave bloody gasps as they died.\n\n\"This is foolish!\" she said, standing up. Her hands were wet with blood again, and she hadn't a clean rag left. Light! \"We need to send more help. You.\" She pointed to an Aiel who had been blinded. He sat with his back to the wall, a bandage around his eyes. \"You, the blind Aiel.\"\n\n\"I am called Ronja.\"\n\n\"Well, Ronja. I have some gai'shain here helping me. By my count, there should be a lot more of them. Where are they?\"\n\n\"They wait until the battle is through so that they may minister to the victors.\"\n\n\"Were going to fetch them,\" she said. \"We need every person we can get to help fight.\"\n\n\"They may come to you here, Berelain Paendrag, and help with tending the sick,\" the man said. \"But they will not fight. It is not their place.\" \"They will see reason,\" she said firmly. \"It's the Last Battle!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You maybe clan chief here,\" the Aiel said, smiling, \"but you are not Car'a\"carn. Even he could not command the gai'shain to disobey ji'e'toh.\" \"Then who could?\"\n\nThat seemed to surprise the man. \"No one. It is not possible.\"\n\n\"And the Wise Ones?\"\n\n\"They would not,\" he said. \"Never.\"\n\n\"We shall see,\" Berelain said.\n\nThe man smiled deeper. \"I should think that no manor woman would wish to suffer your wrath, Berelain Paendrag. But if I had my eyes restored, I would put them out again before I watched gai'shain fight.\"\n\n\"They don't need to fight, then,\" Berelain said. \"Perhaps they can help carry the wounded. Rosil, you have this group?\"\n\nThe tired woman nodded. There wasn't an Aes Sedai in the palace who didn't look like she'd sooner fall over than take another step. Berelain kept her feet by using some herbs she did not think Rosil would approve.\n\nWell, she could do no more here. She might as well check on the wounded in the storage rooms. They had-\n\n\"My Lady First?\" a voice asked. It was Kitan, one of the palace maids who had remained behind to help with the wounded. The slight woman took her arm. \"There is something you need to see.\"\n\nBerelain sighed, but nodded. What disaster awaited her now? Another bubble of evil, locking away groups of wounded behind walls that hadn't been there before? Had they run out of bandages again? She doubted there was a sheet, drapery or piece of smallclothes in the city that hadn't already been made into a bandage."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The girl led her up the steps to Berelain's own quarters where a few of the casualties were being nursed. She stepped into one of the rooms, and was surprised to find a familiar face waiting for her. Annoura sat at a bedside, wearing red slashed with gray, her customary braids pulled back and tied in an unflattering way. Berelain almost didn't recognize her.\n\nAnnoura rose at Berelain's entrance, bowing, though she looked about ready to fall over with fatigue.\n\nIn the bed lay Galad Damodred.\n\nBerelain gasped, rushing to his side. It was him, though he bore a vicious wound to his face. He still breathed, but he was unconscious. Berelain lifted his arm to take his hand in hers, but found that the arm ended in a stump. One of the surgeons had already cauterized it to keep him from bleeding to death.\n\n\"How?\" Berelain asked, clutching his other hand, closing her eyes. His hand felt warm. When she had heard what Demandred bellowed, defeating the man in white...\n\n\"I felt that I owed it to you,\" Annoura said. \"I located him on the battlefield after Demandred announced what he had done. I pulled him away while Demandred fought against one of the Black Tower's men.\" She sat back down on the stool beside the bed, then leaned forward, drooping. \"I could not Heal him, Berelain. It was all I could do to make the gateway to bring him here. I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"It is all right,\" Berelain said. \"Kitan, fetch one of the other sisters. Annoura, you will feel better once you have rested. Thank you.\"\n\nAnnoura nodded. She closed her eyes, and Berelain was shocked to see tears at the edges of her eyes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What is it?\" Berelain asked. \"Annoura, what is wrong?\"\n\n\"It should not concern you, Berelain,\" she said, rising. \"All are taught it, you see. Do not channel if you are too tired. There can be complications. I needed a gateway back to the palace, though. To bring him to safety, to restore...\"\n\nAnnoura collapsed from her stool. Berelain dropped to her side, propping up her head. Only then did she realize that it wasn't the braids that had made Annoura look so different. The face was wrong, too. Changed. No longer ageless, but instead youthful.\n\n\"Oh, Light, Annoura,\" Berelain said. \"You've burned yourself out, haven't you?\"\n\nThe woman had lapsed into unconsciousness. Berelain's heart lurched. The woman and she had had differences recently, but Annoura had been her confidante-and friend-for years before that. The poor woman. The way Aes Sedai spoke, this was considered to be worse than death.\n\nBerelain lifted the woman onto the room's couch and then covered her with a blanket. Berelain felt so powerless. Maybe... maybe she can be Healed somehow...\n\nShe went back to Galad's side to hold his hand fora time longer, righting the stool and sitting upon it. Just a little rest. She closed her eyes. He lived. It came at a terrible cost, but he lived.\n\nShe was shocked when he spoke. \"How?\"\n\nShe opened her eyes to find him looking at her.\n\n\"How am I here?\" he asked softly.\n\n\"Annoura,\" she said. \"She found you on the battlefield.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My wounds?\"\n\n\"Other Healers will come when they can be spared,\" she said. \"Your hand...\" She steeled herself. \"Your hand is lost, but we can wash away that cut to your face.\"\n\n\"No,\" he whispered. \"It is only... a little cut. Save the Healing for those who would die without it.\" He seemed so tired. Barely awake.\n\nShe bit her lip, but nodded. \"Of course.\" She hesitated. \"The battle fares poorly, doesn't it?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"So now... we simply hope?\"\n\nHe slipped his hand from hers and reached under his shirt. When an Aes Sedai arrived, they would have to undress him and care for his wounds. Only the stump had been tended to so far, as it was the worst.\n\nGalad sighed, then trembled, his hand slipping away from his shirt. Had he been intending to remove it?\n\n\"Hope...\" he whispered, then fell unconscious.\n\nRand wept.\n\nHe huddled in the darkness, the Pattern spinning before him, woven from the threads of the lives of men. So many of those threads ended.\n\nSo many.\n\nHe should have been able to protect them. Why couldn't he? Against his will, the names began to replay in his mind. The names of those who had died for him, starting with only women, but now expanded to each and every person he should have been able to save-but hadn't.\n\nAs humankind fought at Merrilor and Shayol Ghul, Rand was forced to watch the deaths. He could not turn away.\n\nThe Dark One chose then to attack him in force. The pressure came again, striving to crush Rand into nothing. He couldn't move. Every bit of his essence, his determination and his strength focused on keeping the Dark One from ripping him apart."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could only watch as they died.\n\nRand watched Davram Bashere die in a charge, followed quickly by his wife. Rand cried out at the fall of his friend. He wept for Davram Bashere.\n\nDear, faithful Hurin fell to a Trolloc attack as it struck for the top of the Heights where Mat made his stand. Rand wept for Hurin. The man with so much faith in him, the man who would have followed him anywhere.\n\nJori Congar lay buried beneath a Trolloc body, whimpering for help until he bled to death. Rand wept for Jori as his thread finally vanished.\n\nEnaila, who had decided to forsake Far Dareis Mai and had laid a bridal wreath at the foot of the siswai'aman Leiran, speared through the gut by four Trollocs. Rand wept for her.\n\nKarldin Manfor, who had followed him for so long and had been at Dumai's Wells, died when his strength for channeling gave out and he dropped to the ground in exhaustion. Sharans fell upon him and stabbed him with their black daggers. His Aes Sedai, Beldeine, stumbled and fell moments later. Rand wept for them both.\n\nHe wept for Gareth Bryne and Siuan. He wept for Gawyn.\n\nSo many. So very many.\n\nYOU ARE LOSING.\n\nRand huddled down further. What could he do? His dream of stopping the Dark One... he would create a nightmare if he did that. His own intentions betrayed him.\n\nGIVE IN, ADVERSARY. WHY KEEP FIGHTING? STOP FIGHTING AND REST."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was tempted. Oh, how he was tempted. Light. What would Nynaeve think? He could see her, fighting to save Alanna. How ashamed would she and Moiraine be if they knew that in that moment, Rand wanted to just let go?\n\nPain washed across him, and he screamed again.\n\n\"Please, let it end!\"\n\nIT CAN.\n\nRand huddled down, writhing, trembling. But still, their screams assaulted him. Death upon death. He held on, barely. \"No,\" he whispered.\n\nVERY WELL, the Dark One said. I HAVE ONE MORE THING TO SHOW YOU. ONE MORE PROMISE OF WHAT CAN BE...\n\nThe Dark One spun threads of possibility one last time.\n\nAll became darkness.\n\nTaim lashed outwith the One Power, thrashing Mishraile with weaves of Air. \"Go back, then, you fool! Fight! We will not lose that position!\"\n\nThe Dreadlord ducked back, gathering his two companions and slinking away to do as ordered. Taim smoldered, then shattered a nearby stone with a surge of power. That Aes Sedai ridgecat! How dare she best him?\n\n\"M'Hael,\" a calm voice said.\n\nTaim... M'Hael. He had to think of himself as M'Hael. He crossed the hillside toward the voice that had called to him. He had taken a gateway to safety, panicked, across the Heights, and he was now at the edge of the southeastern slope of the Heights. Demandred used this location to monitor the battle below and to send destruction down into the formations of Andorans, Cairhienin and Aiel."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eastward the Wind Blew\n\nThe Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.\n\nEastward the wind blew, descending from lofty mountains and coursing over desolate hills. It passed into the place known as the Westwood, an area that had once flourished with pine and leatherleaf. Here, the wind found little more than tangled underbrush, thick save around an occasional towering oak. Those looked stricken by disease, bark peeling free, branches drooping. Elsewhere needles had fallen from pines, draping the ground in a brown blanket. None of the skeletal branches of the Westwood put forth buds.\n\nNorth and eastward the wind blew, across underbrush that crunched and cracked as it shook. It was night, and scrawny foxes picked over the rotting ground, searching in vain for prey or carrion. No spring birds had come to call, and-most telling-the howls of wolves had gone silent across the land.\n\nThe wind blew out of the forest and across Taren Ferry. What was left of it. The town had been a fine one, by local standards. Dark buildings, tall\n\nabove their redstonc foundations, a cobbled street, built at the mouth of the land known as the Two Rivers.\n\nThe smoke had long since stopped rising from burned buildings, but there was little left of the town to rebuild. Feral dogs hunted through the rubble for meat. They looked up as the wind passed, their eyes hungry."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wind crossed the river eastward. Fiere, clusters of refugees carrying torches walked the long road from Baerlon to Whitebridge despite the late hour. They were sorry groups, with heads bowed, shoulders huddled. Some bore the coppery skin of Domani, their worn clothing displaying the hardships of crossing the mountains with little in the way of supplies. Others came from farther off. Taraboners with haunted eyes above dirty veils. Farmers and their wives from northern Ghealdan. All had heard rumors that in Andor, there was food. In Andor, there was hope.\n\nSo far, they had yet to find either.\n\nEastward the wind blew, along the river that wove between farms without crops. Grasslands without grass. Orchards without fruit.\n\nAbandoned villages. Trees like bones with the flesh picked free. Ravens often clustered in their branches; starveling rabbits and sometimes larger game picked through the dead grass underneath. Above it all, the omnipresent clouds pressed down upon the land. Sometimes, that cloud cover made it impossible to tell if it was day or night.\n\nAs the wind approached the grand city of Caemlyn, it turned northward, away from the burning city-orange, red and violent, spewing black smoke toward the hungry clouds above. War had come to Andor in the still of night. The approaching refugees would soon discover that they'd been marching toward danger. It was not surprising. Danger was in all directions. The only way to avoid walking toward it would be to standstill.\n\nAs the wind blew northward, it passed people sitting beside roads, alone or in small groups, staring with the eyes of the hopeless. Some lay as they hungered, looking up at those rumbling, boiling clouds. Other people trudged onward, though toward what, they knew not. The Last Battle, to the north, whatever that meant. The Last Battle was not hope. The Last Battle was death. But it was a place to be, a place to go."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In the evening dimness, the wind reached a large gathering far to the north of Caemlyn."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This wide field broke the forest-patched landscape, but it was overgrown with tents like fungi on a decaying log. Tens of thousands of soldiers waited beside campfires that were quickly denuding the area of timber.\n\nThe wind blew among them, whipping smoke from fires into the faces of soldiers. The people here didn't display the same sense of hopelessness as the refugees, but there was a dread to them. They could seethe sickened land. They could feel the clouds above. They knew.\n\nThe world was dying. The soldiers stared at the flames, watching the wood be consumed. Ember by ember, what had once been alive turned to dust.\n\nA company of men inspected armor that had begun to rust despite being well oiled. A group of white-robed Aiel collected water-former warriors who refused to take up weapons again, despite their toh having been served. A cluster of frightened servants, sure that tomorrow would bring war between the White Tower and the Dragon Reborn, organized stores inside tents shaken by the wind.\n\nMen and women whispered the truth into the night. The end has come. The end has come. All will fall. The end has come.\n\nLaughter broke the air.\n\nWarm light spilled from a large tent at the center of the camp, bursting around the tent flap and from beneath the sides.\n\nInside that tent, Rand al'Thor-the Dragon Reborn-laughed, head thrown back.\n\n\"So what did she do?\" Rand asked when his laughter subsided. He poured himself a cup of red wine, then one for Perrin, who blushed at the question.\n\nHe's become harder, Rand thought, but somehow he hasn't lost that innocence of his. Not completely. To Rand, that seemed a marvelous thing. A wonder, like a pearl discovered in a trout. Perrin was strong, but his strength hadn't broken him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Well, Perrin said, you know how Marin is."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She somehow manages to look at even Cenn as if he were a child in need of mothering. Finding Faile and me lying thereon the floor like two fool youths... well, I think she was torn between laughing at us and sending us into the kitchen to scrub dishes. Separately, to keep us out of trouble.\"\n\nRand smiled, trying to picture it. Perrin-burly, solid Perrin-so weak he could barely walk. It was an incongruous image. Rand wanted to assume his friend was exaggerating, but Perrin didn't have a dishonest hair on his head. Strange, how much about a man could change while his core remained exactly the same.\n\nAnyway,\"Perrin said after taking a drink of wine,\" Faile picked me up off the floor and set me on my horse, and the two of us pranced about looking important. I didn't do much. The fighting was accomplished by the others-I'd have had trouble lifting a cup to my lips.\"He stopped, his golden eyes growing distant.\" You should be proud of them, Rand. Without\n\nDannil, your father and Mat's father, without all of them, I wouldn't have managed half what I did. No, not a tenth.\"\n\n\"I believe it.\" Rand regarded his wine. Lews Therin had loved wine. Apart of Rand-that distant part, the memories of a man he had been-was displeased by the vintage. Few wines in the current world could match the favored vintages of the Age of Legends. Not the ones he had sampled, at least.\n\nHe took a small drink, then set the wine aside. Min still slumbered in another part of the tent, sectioned off with a curtain. Events in Rands dreams had awakened him. He had been glad for Perrin's arrival to take his mind off what he had seen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mienn... No. He would not let that woman distract him. That was probably the point of what he had seen.\n\n\"Walk with me,\" Rand said. \"I need to check on somethings for tomorrow.\"\n\nThey went out into the night. Several Maidens fell into step behind them as Rand walked toward Sebban Balwer, whose services Perrin had loaned to Rand. Which was fine with Balwer, who was prone to gravitate toward those holding the greatest power.\n\n\"Rand?\" Perrin asked, walking beside him with a hand on Mah'alleinir. \"I've told you about all of this before, the siege of the Two Rivers, the fighting... Why ask after it again?\"\n\n\"I asked about the events before, Perrin. I asked after what happened, but I did not ask after the people it happened to.\" He looked at Perrin, making a globe of light for them to see by as they walked in the night. \"I need to remember the people. Not doing so is a mistake I have made too often in the past.\"\n\nThe stirring wind carried the scent of campfires from Perrin's nearby camp and the sounds of smiths working on weapons. Rand had heard the stories: Power-wrought weapons discovered again. Perrin's men were working overtime, running his two Asha'man ragged, to make as many as possible.\n\nRand had lent him as many more Asha'man as he could spare, if only because-as soon as they'd heard-he'd had dozens of Maidens presenting themselves and demanding Power-wrought spearheads. It only makes sense, Rand al'Thor, Beralna had explained. His smiths can make four spearheads for every sword. She'd grimaced saying the word'sword,\" as if it tasted like seawater."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rand had never tasted seawater. Lews Therin had. Knowing facts like that had greatly discomforted him once. Now he had learned to accept that part of him.\n\n\"Can you believe what has happened to us?\" Perrin asked. \"Light, sometimes I wonder when the man who owns all these fancy clothes is going to walk in on me and start yelling, then send me out to muck the stables for being too bigheaded for my collar.\"\n\n\"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, Perrin. WeVe become what we needed to become.\"\n\nPerrin nodded as they walked on the path between tents, lit by the glow of the light above Rand's hand.\n\n\"How does it... feel?\" Perrin asked. \"Those memories you've gained?\" \"Have you ever had a dream that, upon waking, you remembered in stark clarity? Not one that faded quickly, but one that stayed with you through the day?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Perrin said, sounding oddly reserved. \"Yes, I can say that I have.\" \"It's like that,\" Rand said. \"I can remember being Lews Therin, can remember doing what he did, as one remembers actions in a dream. It was me doing them, but I don't necessarily like them-or think I'd take those actions if I were in my waking mind. That doesn't change the fact that, in the dream, they seemed like the right actions.\"\n\nPerrin nodded.\n\n\"He's me,\" Rand said. \"And I'm him. But at the same time, I'm not.\" \"Well, you still seem like yourself,\" Perrin said, though Rand caught a slight hesitation on the word'seem.\" Had Perrin been about to say'smell\" instead? \"You haven't changed that much.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rand doubted he could explain it to Perrin without sounding mad. The person he became when he wore the mantle of the Dragon Reborn... that wasn't simply an act, wasn't simply a mask.\n\nIt was who he was. He had not changed, he had not transformed. He had merely accepted.\n\nThat didn't mean he had all of the answers. Despite four hundred years of memories nestled in his brain, he still worried about what he had to do. Lews Therin hadn't known how to seal the Bore. His attempt had led to disaster. The taint, the Breaking, all for an imperfect prison with seals that were now brittle.\n\nOne answer kept coming to Rand. A dangerous answer. One that Lews Therin hadn't considered.\n\nWhat if the answer wasn't to seal the Dark One away again? What if the answer, the final answer, was something else? Something more permanent. Yes, Rand thought to himself for the hundredth time. But is it possible? They arrived at the tent where the clerks worked, the Maidens fanning out behind them, Rand and Perrin entering. The clerks were up late, of course, and they didn't look surprised to see Rand enter.\n\n\"My Lord Dragon,\" Balwer said, bowing stiffly from where he stood beside a table of maps and stacks of paper. The dried-up little man sorted his papers nervously, one knobby elbow protruding from a hole in his oversized brown coat.\n\n\"Report,\" Rand said.\n\n\"Roedran will come,\" Balwer said, his voice thin and precise. \"The Queen of Andor has sent for him, promising him gateways made by those Kinswomen of hers. Our eyes in his court say he is angry that he needs her help to attend, but is insistent that he needs to beat this meeting-if only so he doesn't look left out.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Excellent,\" Rand said. \"Elayne knows nothing of your spies?\"\n\n\"My Lord!\" Balwer said, sounding indignant.\n\n\"Have you determined who is spying for her among our clerks?\" Rand asked.\n\nBalwer sputtered. \"Nobody-\"\n\n\"She'll have someone, Balwer,\" Rand said with a smile. \"She all but taught me how to do this, after all. No matter. After tomorrow, my intentions will be manifest for all. Secrets won't be needed.\"\n\nNone save the ones I keep closest to my own heart.\n\n\"That means everyone will be here for the meeting, right?\" Perrin asked. \"Every major ruler? Tear and Illian?\"\n\n\"The Amyrlin persuaded them to attend,\" Balwer said. \"I have copies of their exchanges here, if you wish to see them, my Lords.\"\n\n\"I would,\" Rand said. \"Send them to my tent. I will look them over tonight.\"\n\nThe shaking of the ground came suddenly. Clerks grabbed stacks of papers, holding them down and crying out as furniture crashed to the ground around them. Outside, men shouted, barely audible over the sound of trees breaking, metal clanging. The land groaned, a distant rumble.\n\nRand felt it like a painful muscle spasm.\n\nThunder shook the sky, distant, like a promise of things to come. The shaking subsided. The clerks remained holding their stacks of paper, as if afraid to let go and risk them toppling.\n\nIt's really here, Rand thought. I'm not ready-we're not ready-but it's here anyway.\n\nHe had spent many months fearing this day. Ever since Trollocs had come in the night, ever since Lan and Moiraine had dragged him from the Two Rivers, he had feared what was to come."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Last Battle."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The end. He found himself unafraid now that it had come. Worried, but not afraid.\n\nI'm coming for you, Rand thought.\n\n\"Tell the people,\" Rand said to his clerks. \"Post warnings. Earthquakes will continue. Storms. Real ones, terrible ones. There will be a Breaking, and we cannot avoid it. The Dark One will try to grind this world to dust.\"\n\nThe clerks nodded, shooting concerned glances atone another by lamplight. Perrin looked contemplative, but nodded faintly, as if to himself.\n\n\"Any other news?\" Rand asked.\n\n\"The Queen of Andor maybe up to something tonight, my Lord,\" Balwer said.\n\n\"\"Something\" is not a very descriptive word, Balwer,\" Rand said.\n\nBalwer grimaced. \"I'm sorry, my Lord. I don't have more for you yet; I only just received this note. Queen Elayne was awakened by some of her advisors a short time ago. I don't have anyone close enough to know why.\"\n\nRand frowned, resting his hand on Laman's sword at his waist.\n\n\"It could just be plans for tomorrow,\" Perrin said.\n\n\"True,\" Rand said. \"Let me know if you discover anything, Balwer. Thank you. You do well here.\"\n\nThe man stood taller. In these last days-days so dark-every man looked for something useful to do. Balwer was the best at what he did, and was confident in his own abilities. Still, it did no harm to be reminded of the fact by one who employed him, particularly if his employer was none other than the Dragon Reborn.\n\nRand left the tent, Perrin following."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're worried about it,\" Perrin said. \"Whatever it was that awoke Elayne.\"\n\n\"They would not awaken her without good cause,\" Rand said softly. \"Considering her state.\"\n\nPregnant. Pregnant with his children. Light! He had only just learned of it. Why hadn't shebeen the one to tell him?\n\nThe answer was simple. Elayne could feel Rand's emotions as he felt hers. She would have been able to feel how he had been, recently. Before Dragonmount. Back when...\n\nWell, she wouldn't have wanted to confront him with a pregnancy when he'd been in such a state. Beyond that, he hadn't exactly made himself easy to find.\n\nStill, it was a shock.\n\nI'm going to be a father, he thought, not for the first time. Yes, Lews Therin\n\nhad had children, could remember them and his love for them. It\n\nwasn't the same.\n\nHe, Rand al'Thor, would be a father. Assuming he won the Last Battle.\n\n\"They wouldn't have awakened Elayne without good reason,\" he continued, returning to task. \"I'm worried, not because of what might have happened, but because of the potential distraction. Tomorrow will bean important day. If the Shadow has any inkling of tomorrow's importance, it will try whatever it canto keep us from meeting, from unifying.\"\n\nPerrin scratched at his beard. \"I have people close to Elayne. People who keep watch on things for me.\"\n\nRand raised his hand. \"Let's go talk to them. I have a great deal to do tonight, but... Yes, I can't let this slip.\"\n\nThe two turned toward Perrin's camp nearby, picking up their pace, Rand's bodyguards following like shadows with veils and spears."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The night felt too quiet."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene, in her tent, worked on a letter to Rand. She was not certain if she would send it. Sending it was not important. Writing it was about organizing her thoughts, determining what she wished to say to him.\n\nGawyn pushed his way into the tent again, hand on his sword, Warder cloak rustling.\n\n\"Are you going to stay in this time?\" Egwene asked, dipping her pen, \"or are you going to go right back out?\"\n\n\"I don't like this night, Egwene.\" He looked over his shoulder. \"Something feels wrong about it.\"\n\n\"The world holds its breath, Gawyn, waiting upon the events of the morrow. Did you send to Elayne, as I requested?\"\n\n\"Yes. She won't be awake. It's too late for her.\"\n\n\"We shall see.\"\n\nIt wasn't long before a messenger arrived from Elayne's camp, bearing a small folded letter. Egwene read it, then smiled. \"Come,\" she said to Gawyn, rising and gathering a few things. She waved a hand, and a gateway split the air.\n\n\"We're Traveling there?\" Gawyn asked. \"It's only a short walk.\"\n\n\"A short walk would require the Amyrlin to call upon the Queen of Andor,\" Egwene said as Gawyn stepped through the gateway first and checked the other side. \"Sometimes, I don't want to take an action that starts people asking questions.\"\n\nSiuan would have killed for this ability, Egwene thought as she stepped through the gateway. How many more plots could that woman have spun if she'd been able to visit others as quickly, quietly and easily as this?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "On the other side, Elayne stood beside a warm brazier."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Queen wore\n\na pale green dress, her belly swollen from the babes within. She hastened over to Egwene and kissed herring. Birgitte stood to one side of the tent flaps, arms folded, wearing her short red jacket and wide, sky-blue trousers, her golden braid down over her shoulder.\n\nGawyn cocked an eyebrow at his sister. \"Im surprised you are awake.\" \"I'm waiting fora report,\" Elayne said, gesturing for Egwene to join her in a pair of cushioned chairs beside the brazier.\n\n\"Something important?\" Egwene asked.\n\nElayne fawned. \"Jesamyn forgot to check in again from Caemlyn. I left the woman strict orders to send tome every two hours, and yet she dallies. Light, its probably nothing. Still, I asked Serinia to go to the Traveling grounds to check on things for me. I hope you don't mind.\"\n\n\"You need rest,\" Gawyn said, folding his arms.\n\n\"Thank you very much for the advice,\" Elayne said, \"which I will ignore, as I ignored Birgitte when she said the same thing. Mother, what is it you wished to discuss?\"\n\nEgwene handed over the letter she had been working on.\n\n\"To Rand?\" Elayne asked.\n\n\"You have a different perspective on him than I. Tell me what you think of this letter. I might not send it to him. I haven't decided yet.\"\n\n\"The tone is... forceful,\" Elayne noted.\n\n\"He doesn't seem to respond to anything else.\"\n\nAfter a moment of reading Elayne lowered the letter. \"Perhaps we should simply let him do as he wishes.\""
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "\"Break the seals?\" Egwene asked. \"Release the Dark One?\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Light, Elayne!\"\n\n\"It has to happen, doesn't it?\" Elayne asked. \"I mean, the Dark One's going to escape. He's practically free already.\"\n\nEgwene rubbed her temples. \"There is a difference between touching the world and being free. During the War of Power, the Dark One was never truly released into the world. The Bore let him touch it, but that was resealed before he could escape. If the Dark One had entered the world, the Wheel itself would have been broken. Here, I brought this to show you.\"\n\nEgwene retrieved a stack of notes from her satchel. The sheets had been hastily gathered by the librarians of the Thirteenth Depository. \"I'm not saying that we shouldn't break the seals,\" Egwene said. \"I'm saying that we can't afford to risk one of Rand's crackbrained schemes with this.\"\n\nElayne smiled fondly. Light, but she was smitten. / can rely on her, can't\n\nI? It was hard to tell with Elayne these days. The woman's ploy with the Kinswomen....\n\n\"We have unfortunately found nothing pertinent in your library ter'angreal.\" The statue of the smiling bearded man had nearly caused a riot in the Tower; every sister had wanted to read the thousands of books that it held. \"All of the books seem to have been written before the Bore was opened. They will keep searching, but these notes contain everything we could gather on the seals, the prison and the Dark One. If we break the seals at the wrong time, I fear it would mean an end to all things. Here, read this.\" She handed a page to Elayne."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Karaethon CycleT Elayne asked, curious.\" And light shall fail, and dawn shall not come, and still the captive rails. ' The captive is the Dark One?\"\" I think so,\"Egwene said.\" The Prophecies are never clear. Rand intends to enter the Last Battle and break the seals immediately, but that is a dreadful idea. We have an extended war ahead of us. Freeing the Dark One now will strengthen the forces of the Shadow and weaken us.\n\n\"If it is to be done-and I still don't know that it has to be-we should wait until the last possible moment. At the very least, we need to discuss it. Rand has been right about many things, but he has been wrong, too. This is not a decision he should be allowed to make alone.\"\n\nElayne shuffled through the sheets of paper, then stopped on one of them. \"\"His blood shall give us the Light...\"\" She rubbed the page with her thumb, as if lost in thought. \"\"Wait upon the Light.\" Who added this note?\"\n\n\"That is Doniella Alievin's copy of the Termendal translation of The Karaethon Cycle\" Egwene said. \"Doniella made her own notes, and they have been the subject of nearly as much discussion among scholars as the Prophecies themselves. She was a Dreamer, you know. The only Amyrlin that we know of to have been one. Before me, anyway.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Elayne said.\n\n\"The sisters who gathered these for me came to the same conclusion that I have,\" Egwene said. \"There maybe a time to break the seals, but that time is not at the start of the Last Battle, whatever Rand thinks. We must wait for the right moment, and as the Watcher of the Seals, it is my duty to choose that moment. I won't risk the world on one of Rand's overly dramatic stratagems.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He has a fair bit of gleeman in him,\" Elayne said, again fondly. \"Your argument is a good one, Egwene. Make it to him. He will listen to you. He does have a good mind, and can be persuaded.\"\n\n\"We shall see. For now, I-\"\n\nEgwene suddenly sensed a spike of alarm from Gawyn. She glanced over to see him turning. Hoofbeats outside. His ears weren't any better than Egwene's, but it was his job to listen for things like this.\n\nEgwene embraced the True Source, causing Elayne to do likewise. Birgitte already had the tent flaps open, hand on her sword.\n\nA frazzled messenger leaped from horseback outside, eyes wide. She scrambled into the tent, Birgitte and Gawyn falling in beside her immediately, watching in case she came too close.\n\nShe didn't. \"Caemlyn is under attack, Your Majesty,\" the woman said, gasping for breath.\n\n\"What!\" Elayne leaped to her feet. \"How? Did Jarid Sarand finally-\" \"Trollocs,\" the messenger said. \"It started near dusk.\"\n\n\"Impossible!\" Elayne said, grabbing the messenger by the arm and hauling her out of the tent. Egwene followed hastily. \"It's been over six hours since dusk,\" Elayne said to the messenger. \"Why haven't we heard anything until now? What happened to the Kinswomen?\"\n\n\"I was not told, my Queen,\" the messenger said. \"Captain Guybon sent me to fetch you at speed. He just arrived through the gateway.\"\n\nThe Traveling ground was not far from Elayne's tent. A crowd had gathered, but men and women made way for the Amyrlin and Queen. In moments the two of them reached the front."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A group of men in bloodied clothing trudged through the open gateway, pulling carts laden with Elayne's new weapons, the dragons. Many of the men seemed near collapse. They smelled of smoke, and their skin was blackened by soot. Not a few of them slumped unconscious as Elayne's soldiers grabbed the carts, which were obviously meant for horses to pull, to help them.\n\nOther gateways opened nearby as Serinia Sedai and some of the stronger of the Kinswomen-Egwene wouldn't think of them as Elayne's Kinswomen-created them. Refugees poured through like the waters of a suddenly unstopped river.\n\n\"Go,\" Egwene said to Gawyn, weaving her own gateway-one to the Traveling grounds in the White Tower camp nearby. \"Send for as many Aes Sedai as we can rouse. Tell Bryne to ready his soldiers, tell them to do as Elayne orders and send them through gateways to the outskirts of Caemlyn. We will show solidarity with Andor.\"\n\nGawyn nodded, ducking through the gateway. Egwene let it vanish, then joined Elayne near the gathering of wounded, confused soldiers. Sumeko, of the Kinswomen, had taken charge of seeing that Healing was given to those in immediate danger.\n\nThe air was thick with the smell of smoke. As Egwene hurried to Elayne, she caught sight of something through one of the gateways. Caemlyn afire.\n\nLight! She stood stunned fora moment, then hurried on. Elayne was speaking with Guybon, commander of the Queens Guard. The handsome man seemed barely able to remain on his feet, his clothing and arms alarmingly bloodied.\n\n\"Darkfriends killed two of the women you left to send messages, Your Majesty,\" he was saying in a tired voice. \"Another fell in the fighting. But we retrieved the dragons. Once we... we escaped. .\" He seemed pained by something. \"Once we escaped through the hole in the city wall, we found that several mercenary bands were making their way around the city toward the gate that Lord Talmanes had left defended. By coincidence they were near enough to aid in our escape.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You did well,\" Elayne said.\n\n\"But the city-\"\n\n\"You did well\" Elayne repeated, voice firm. \"You retrieved the dragons and rescued all of these people? I will see you rewarded for this, Captain.\"\n\n\"Give your reward to the men of the Band, Your Majesty. It was their work. And please, if you can do anything for Lord Talmanes...\" He gestured to the fallen man whom several members of the Band had just carried through the gateway.\n\nElayne knelt beside him, and Egwene joined her. At first, Egwene assumed that Talmanes was dead, with his skin blackened. Then he drew a ragged breath.\n\n\"Light,\" Elayne said, Delving his prostrate form. \"I've never seen anything like this.\"\n\n\"Thakan'dar blades,\" Guybon said.\n\n\"This is beyond either of us,\" Egwene said to Elayne, standing. \"I...\" She trailed off, hearing something over the groans of soldiers and carts creaking.\n\n\"Egwene?\" Elayne asked softly.\n\n\"Do what you can for him,\" Egwene said, standing and rushing away. She pushed through the confused crowd, following the voice. Was that... yes, there. She found an open gateway at the edge of the Traveling grounds, Aes Sedai in a variety of clothing hurrying through to see to the wounded. Gawyn had done his work well.\n\nNynaeve was asking, quite loudly, who was in charge of this mess. Egwene approached her from the side and grabbed her by the shoulder, surprising her.\n\n\"Mother?\" Nynaeve asked. \"What is this about Caemlyn burning? I-\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She cutoff as she saw the wounded. She stiffened, then tried to go to them.\n\n\"There is one you need to see first,\" Egwene said, leading her to where Talmanes lay.\n\nNynaeve drew in a sharp breath, then went to her knees and pushed Elayne gently aside. Nynaeve Delved Talmanes, then froze, eyes wide.\n\n\"Nynaeve?\" Egwene said. \"Can you-\"\n\nAn explosion of weaves burst from Nynaeve like the sudden light of a sun coming out from behind clouds. Nynaeve wove the Five Powers together in a column of radiance, then sent it driving into Talmanes' body.\n\nEgwene left her to her work. Perhaps it would be enough, though he looked far gone. The Light willing, the man would live. She had been impressed with him in the past. He seemed precisely the type of man that the Band-and Mat-needed.\n\nElayne was near the dragons and was questioning a woman with her hair in braids. That must be Aludra, who had created the dragons. Egwene walked up to the weapons, resting her fingers on one of the long bronze tubes. She had been given reports on them, of course. Some men said they were like Aes Sedai, cast in metal and fueled by the powders from fireworks.\n\nMore and more refugees poured though the gateway, many of them townspeople. \"Light,\" Egwene said to herself. \"There are too many of them. We cant house all of Caemlyn here at Merrilor.\"\n\nElayne finished her conversation, leaving Aludra to inspect the wagons. It appeared that the woman wasn't willing to rest for the night and see to them in the morning. Elayne walked toward the gateways."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 12"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Think, think. In the distance, the Trolloc horns started blowing. Tuon had delayed. Was she going to come? He hoped, secretly, she would not. With the battle going so poorly, even the Seanchan might not be enough.\n\nHe needed an opening. Come on, luck! Another gateway opened, and Arganda went to collect the messenger's report. Mat did not need to hear to realize the kind of news it was, as when Arganda returned, he was frowning.\n\n\"All right,\" Mat said, sighing. \"Give me your news.\"\n\n\"The Queen of Andor is dead,\" Arganda said.\n\nBloody Ashes! Not Elayne! Mat felt a lurch inside. Rand... Ym sorry. \"Who leads there? Bashere?\"\n\n\"Dead,\" Arganda said. \"And his wife. They fell during an attack against the Andoran pikemen. We've lost six Aiel clan chiefs as well. Nobody leads the Andorans or the Aiel at the riverbed. They're crumbling fast.\"\n\n\"This is the end!\" Demandred's augmented voice washed across Mat from the other end of the plateau. \"Lews Therin has abandoned you! Cry out to him as you die. Let him feel your pain.\"\n\nThey had arrived at the last few moves in their game, and Demandred had played well. Mat looked over his army of exhausted troops, many of them wounded. There was no denying it, they were in a desperate situation.\n\n\"Send for the Aes Sedai,\" Mat said. \"I don't care if they say they can't lift a feather. Maybe when it comes down to their lives, they'll find a little strength fora fireball here and there. Besides, their Warders can still fight.\" Arganda nodded. Nearby, a gateway opened, and two beleaguered-looking Asha'man stumbled out. Naeff and Neald bore scorch marks on their skins, and Naeff's Aes Sedai was not with them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well?\" Mat asked the three.\n\n\"It is done,\" Neald said with a growl.\n\n\"What of Tuon?\"\n\n\"They found the spy, apparently,\" Naeff said. \"The Empress is waiting to return on your mark.\"\n\nMat breathed in, tasting the battlefield air, feeling the rhythm of the fighting he had setup. He didn't know if he could win, even with Tuon. Not with Elayne's army in disarray, not with the Aes Sedai weakened to the point of being unable to channel. Not without Egwene, her Two Rivers stubbornness, her iron backbone. Not without a miracle.\n\n\"Send for her, Naeff,\" Mat said. He called for paper and a pen, and scribbled a note, which he handed off to the Asha'man. He shoved aside the selfish desire to let Tuon fly to safety. Bloody ashes, there was no safety, not anywhere. \"Give this to the Empress, Naeff; tell her these instructions must be followed exactly.\"\n\nThen Mat turned to Neald. \"I want you to go to Talmanes,\" he said. \"Have him move forward with the plan.\"\n\nThe two channelers left, off to deliver their messages.\n\n\"Will it be enough?\" Arganda asked.\n\n\"No,\" Mat said.\n\n\"Then why?\"\n\n\"Because I'll be a Darkfriend before I'll let this battle go without trying everything, Arganda.\"\n\n\"Lews Therin!\" Demandred boomed. \"Come face me! I know you watch this battle! Join it! Fight!\"\n\n\"I sure am growing tired of that man,\" Mat said.\n\n\"Cauthon, look, those Trollocs have regrouped,\" Arganda said. \"I think they are about to attack.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then this is it; lets form up,\" Mat said. \"Where is Lan; has he comeback yet? I'd hate to do this without him.\"\n\nMat turned, scanning the lines for him, as Arganda shouted orders. His attention was drawn back suddenly as Arganda grabbed his arm, pointing toward the Trollocs. Mat felt a chill as he saw in the light of bonfires alone horseman on a black stallion charge into the right flank of the Trolloc horde, making for the eastern slope of the Heights. Toward Demandred. Lan had gone to fight a war on his own.\n\nThe Trollocs ripped at Olver's arm in the night, reaching into the crack, trying to pry him free. Others dug at the sides, and soil streamed in onto him, sticking to the tears on his cheeks and the blood flowing from his scratches.\n\nHe couldn't stop shaking. He also couldn't make himself move. He trembled, terrified, as the beasts pried at him with filthy fingers, digging closer and closer.\n\nLoial sat on a stump, resting before the battle picked up again.\n\nA charge. Yes, that would be a good way for this to end. Loial felt sore allover. He had read a great deal about battle, and had been in fights before, so he had known what to expect. But knowing a thing and experiencing it were completely different; that was why he'd left the stedding in the first place.\n\nAfter more than a day of nonstop fighting, his limbs burned with a deep, inner fatigue. When he raised his axe, the head felt so heavy he wondered why it didn't break the shaft.\n\nWar. He could have lived his life without experiencing this. It was so much more than the frantic battle at the Two Rivers had been. There, at least, they'd had time to remove the dead and care for their wounded. There, it had been a matter of standing firm and holding against waves of attacks."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Here, there was no time to wait, no time to think. Erith sat down on the ground beside his stump, and he put a hand on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and leaned against him. She was beautiful, with perfect ears and wonderful eyebrows. Loial did not look at the bloodstains on her clothing; he feared some of it washers. He rubbed her shoulder with fingers so tired he could barely feel them.\n\nLoial had taken some notes on the battlefield, for himself and for others, to keep track of how the battle had gone so far. Yes, a final attack. That would make fora good ending to the story, once he wrote it.\n\nHe pretended that he would still write the story. There was no harm to such a little lie.\n\nOne rider burst from the ranks of their soldiers, galloping toward the Trolloc right flank. Mat would not be happy about that. One man, alone, would die. Loial was surprised that he could feel sorrow for that man's life lost, after all of the death he had seen.\n\nThat man looks familiar, Loial thought. Yes, it was the horse. He'd seen that horse before, many times. Lan, he thought, numb. Lan is the one riding out alone.\n\nLoial stood.\n\nErith looked up at him as he shouldered his axe.\n\n\"Wait,\" Loial said to her. \"Fight alongside the others. I must go.\"\n\n\"Go?\"\n\n\"I need to witness this,\" Loial said. The fall of the last king of the Malkieri. He would need to include it in his book.\n\n\"Prepare to charge!\" Arganda yelled. \"Men, form up! Archers at the front, cavalry next, foot soldiers prepare to come up behind!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A charge, Tam thought."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yes, that is our only hope. They had to continue their push, but their line was so thin. He could see what Mat had been trying, but it wasn't going to work.\n\nThey needed to fight it through anyway.\n\n\"Well, he is dead,\" a mercenary said from near Tam, nodding toward Lan Mandragoran as he rode toward the Trolloc flank. \"Bloody Borderlanders.\"\n\n\"Tam...\" Abell said from beside him.\n\nAbove them, the sky grew darker. Was that possible, at night? Those terrible, boiling clouds seemed to come lower and lower. Tam almost lost Lan's figure atop the midnight stallion, despite the bonfires burning on the Heights. Their light seemed feeble.\n\nHe's riding for Demandred, Tam thought. But there's a wall of Trollocs in the way. Tam took out an arrow with a resin-soaked rag tied behind the head and nocked it into his bow. \"Two Rivers men, prepare to fire!\"\n\nThe mercenary nearby laughed. \"That's a hundred paces at least! You'll fill him with arrows if anything.\"\n\nTam eyed the man, then took his arrow and thrust the end into a torch. The bundled rag behind the head came alight with fire. \"First rank, on my signal!\" Tam yelled, ignoring the other orders that came down the line. \"Let's give Lord Mandragoran a little something to guide his way!\"\n\nTam drew in a fluid motion, the burning rag warming his fingers, and loosed.\n\nLan charged toward the Trollocs. His lance, and its three replacements, had all shattered hours ago. At his neck, he wore the cold medallion that Berelain had sent through the gateway with a simple note."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I do not know how Galad ended up with this, but I believe he wished me to send it to Cauthon.\n\nLan did not consider what he was doing. The void did not allow such things. Some men would call it brash, foolhardy, suicidal. The world was rarely changed by men who were unwilling to try being at least one of the three. He sent what comfort he could to distant Nynaeve through the bond, then prepared to fight.\n\nAs Lan neared the Trollocs, the beasts setup a spear line to stop him. A horse would impale itself trying to push through that. Lan drew in breath, calm within the void, planning to slice the head off the first spear, then ram his way through the line.\n\nIt was an impossible maneuver. All the Trollocs would need to do was squeeze together and slow him. After that, they could overwhelm Mandarb and pull Lan from the saddle.\n\nBut someone had to destroy Demandred. With the medallion at his neck, Lan raised his sword.\n\nA flaming arrow streaked down from the sky and hit the throat of the Trolloc right in front of Lan. Without hesitation, Lan used the fallen Trolloc as an opening in the line of spears. He crashed between the Shadowspawn, trampling the fallen one. He would need to-\n\nAnother arrow fell, dropping a Trolloc. Then another fell, and another, in quick succession. Mandarb crashed through the confused, burning and dying Trollocs as an entire rain of burning arrows dropped in front of him. \"Malkier!\" Lan yelled, heeling Mandarb forward, trampling corpses but\n\nmaintaining speed as the way opened. A hail of light dropped before him, each arrow precise, killing a Trolloc that tried to stand before him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He thundered through the ranks, shoving aside dying Trollocs, flaming arrows guiding his way in the darkness like a roadway. The Trollocs stood thick on either side, but those in front of him dropped and dropped until there were no more.\n\nThank you, Tam.\n\nLan cantered his steed along the eastern slope of the Heights, alone now, past the soldiers, past the Shadowspawn. He was one with the breeze that streamed through his hair, one with the sinewy animal beneath him that carried him forward, one with the target that was his destination, his fate.\n\nDemandred stood at the sound of the hoofbeats, his Sharan companions rising in front of him.\n\nWith a roar, Lan heeled Mandarb into the Sharans that blocked his path. The stallion leaped, front legs driving the guards before him into the ground. Mandarb wheeled around, his haunches knocking down more Sharans, his forelegs coming down on yet others.\n\nLan threw himself from the saddle-Mandarb had no protection against channeling, and so to fight from horseback would be to invite Demandred to kill his mount-and hit the ground at a run, sword out.\n\n'Another one?\"Demandred roared.\" Lews Therin, you are beginning to-\"\n\nHe cutoff as Lan reached him and flung himself into Thistledown Floats on the Whirlwind, a tempestuous, offensive sword form. Demandred whipped his sword up, catching the blow on his weapon and skidding backward a step at the force of it. They exchanged three blows, quick as cracks of lightning, Lan still in motion until the last blow caught Demandred on the cheek. Lan felt a slight tug, and a blood sprayed into the air."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Demandred felt at the wound in his cheek, and his eyes opened wider."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\" Who are youT Demandred asked.\n\n\"I am the man who will kill you.\"\n\nMin looked up from the back of her torm as it loped toward the gateway back to the battlefield at Merrilor. She hoped it would withstand the battle frenzy when they got there. Bonfires and torches shone in the distance, fireflies illuminating scenes of valor and determination. She watched the lights flicker, the last embers of afire that would soon be extinguished.\n\nRand trembled, distant, far to the north.\n\n---\n\nThe Pattern spun around Rand, forcing him to watch. He looked through eyes streaming with tears. He saw the people struggle. He saw them fall. He saw Elayne, captive and alone, a Dreadlord preparing to rip their children from her womb. He saw Rhuarc, his mind forfeit, now a pawn of one of the Forsaken.\n\nHe saw Mat, desperate, facing down horrible odds.\n\nHe saw Lan riding to his death.\n\nDemandred's words dug at him. The Dark One's pressure continued to tear at him.\n\nRand had failed.\n\nBut in the back of his mind, a voice. Frail, almost forgotten.\n\nLet go.\n\nLan held nothing back.\n\nHe did not fight as he had trained Rand to fight. No careful testing, no judging the terrain, no careful evaluation. Demandred could channel, and despite the medallion, Lan couldn't give his enemy time to think, time to weave and hurl rocks at him or open the ground beneath him.\n\nLan burrowed deeply into the void, allowing instincts to guide him. He went beyond lack of emotions, burning away everything. He did not need to judge the terrain, for he felt the land as if it were part of him. He did not need to test Demandred's strength. One of the Forsaken, with many decades of experience, would be the most skilled swordsman Lan had ever faced."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lan was vaguely aware of the Sharans spreading out to make abroad circle around the two combatants as they fought."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Apparently Demandred was confident enough of his skills that he did not allow interference from others.\n\nLan spun into a sequence of attacks. Water Flows Downhill became Whirlwind on the Mountain which became Hawk Dives into the Brush. His forms were like streams blending into a larger and larger river. Demandred fought as well as Lan had feared. Though the man's forms were slightly different from those Lan knew, the years had not changed the nature of a swordfight.\n\n\"You are... good...\" Demandred said with a grunt, falling back before Wind and Rain, a line of blood dripping from his chin. Lan's sword flashed in the air, reflecting the red light of a bonfire nearby.\n\nDemandred came back with Striking the Spark, which Lan anticipated, countering. He took a scratch along the side, but ignored it. The exchange set Lan back a step, and gave Demandred the chance to pickup a rock with the One Power and hurl it at Lan.\n\nDeep within the void, Lan felt the stone coming. It was an understanding of the fight-one that ran deeply into him, to the very core of his soul. The way Demandred stepped, the direction his eyes flickered, told Lan exactly what was coming.\n\nAshe flowed into his next sword form, Lan brought his weapon up across his chest and stepped backward. A stone the size of a man's head passed directly in front of him. Lan flowed forward, arm moving into his next form as another stone flew under his arm, tugging wind with it. Lan raised his sword and flowed around the path of a third stone, which missed him by a thumb's width, rippling his clothing.\n\nDemandred blocked Lan's attack, but he breathed hoarsely. \"Who are you?\" Demandred whispered again. \"No one of this Age has such skill. Asmodean? No, no. He couldn't have fought me like this. Lews Therin? It is you behind that face, isn't it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am just a man,\" Lan whispered. \"That is all I have ever been.\"\n\nDemandred growled, then launched an attack. Lan responded with Stones Falling Down the Mountain, but Demandreds fury forced him back a few steps.\n\nDespite Lan's initial offensive, Demandred was the better swordsman. Lan knew this by the same sense that told him when to strike, when to parry, when to step and when to withdraw. Perhaps if they had come to the fight evenly, it would be different. They had not. Lan had been fighting for an entire day, and though he'd been Healed from his worst wounds, the smaller ones still ached. Beyond that, a Healing in and of itself was draining.\n\nDemandred was still fresh. The Forsaken stopped talking and engrossed himself in the duel. He also stopped using the One Power, focused only on his swordplay. He did not grin as he took the advantage. He did not seem like a man who grinned very often.\n\nLan slipped away from Demandred, but the Forsaken pressed forward with Boar Rushes Down the Mountain, again pushing Lan back to the perimeter of the circle, battering at his defenses, cutting him on the arm, then the shoulder, then finally the thigh.\n\nI've only time for one last lesson...\n\n\"I have you,\" Demandred finally growled, breathing heavily. \"Whoever you are, I have you. You cannot win.\"\n\n\"You didn't listen tome,\" Lan whispered.\n\nOne last lesson. The hardest...\n\nDemandred struck, and Lan saw his opening. Lan lunged forward, placing Demandred's sword point against his own side and ramming himself forward onto it.\n\nI did not come hereto win,\"Lan whispered, smiling.\" I came hereto kill you. Death is lighter than a feather.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Demandreds eyes opened wide, and he tried to pullback."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Too late. Lan's sword took him straight through the throat.\n\nThe world grew dark as Lan slipped backward off the sword. He felt Nynaeve s fear and pain as he did, and he sent his love to her.\n\nThe Place That Was Not\n\nRand saw Lan fall, and it sent a spasm of anguish through him. The Dark One pressed in around Rand. Swallowing him, shredding him. Fighting that attack was too hard. Rand was spent.\n\nCHAPTER\n\nLet go. His fathers voice.\n\n\"I have to save them...\" Rand whispered.\n\nLet them sacrifice. You can't do this yourself.\n\n\"I have to... That's what it means...\" The Dark One's destruction crawled on him like a thousand crows, picking at his flesh, pulling it from his bones. He could barely think through the pressure and the sense of loss. The death of Egwene and so many others.\n\nLet go.\n\nIt is their choice to make.\n\nHe wanted so badly to protect them, the people who believed in him. Their deaths, and the danger they faced, were an enormous weight upon him. How could a man just... let go? Wasn't that letting goof responsibility?\n\nOr was it giving the responsibility to them?\n\nRand squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of all those who had died for him. Of Egwene, whom he had sworn to himself to protect.\n\nYou fool. Her voice in his head. Fond, but sharp.\n\n\"Egwene?\"\n\nAm I not allowed to be a hero, too?\n\n\"It's not that. .\n\nYou march to your death. Yet you forbid anyone else from doing so?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I. .\"\n\nLet go, Rand. Let us die for what we believe, and do not try to steal that from us.\n\nYou have embraced your death. Embrace mine.\n\nTears leaked from the corners of his eyes. \"I'm sorry,\" he whispered.\n\nWhy?\n\n\"I've failed.\"\n\nNo. Not yet you haven't.\n\nThe Dark One flayed him. He huddled before that vast nothingness, unable to move. He screamed in agony.\n\nAnd then, he let go.\n\nHe let goof the guilt. He let goof the shame for having not saved Egwene and all the others. He let goof the need to protect her, to protect all of them.\n\nHe let them be heroes.\n\nNames streamed from his head. Egwene, Hurin, Bashere, Isan of the Chareen Aiel, Somara and thousands more. One by one-first slowly, but with increasing speed-he counted backward through the list he had once maintained in his head. The list had once been only women, but had grown to include everyone he knew had died for him. He hadn't realized how large it had become, how much he had let himself carry.\n\nThe names ripped from him like physical things, like doves aflight, and each one carried away a burden. Weight vanished from his shoulders. His breathing grew steadier. It was as if Perrin had come with his hammer and shattered a thousand chains that had been dragging behind Rand.\n\nIlyena was last. We are reborn, Rand thought, so we can do better the next\n\nti? ne.\n\nSo do better.\n\nHe opened his eyes and placed his hand before him, palm against blackness that felt solid. His self that had fuzzed, becoming indistinct as the Dark One ripped at it, pulled together. He placed his other arm down, then heaved himself to his knees."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And then, Rand al'Thor-the Dragon Reborn-stood up once again to face the Shadow.\n\n\"No, no,\" the beautiful Shendla whispered, looking down at Demandred's body. Her heart sank down inside of her and she tore at her hair with both hands, her body swaying. As she gazed on her beloved, Shendla slowly drew breath deep into her chest, and when it released, it was a fearful shriek: \"Bao the Wyld is dead!\"\n\nThe entire battlefield seemed to grow still.\n\nRand faced the Dark One in that place that was not, surrounded by all time and nothing at the same time. His body still stood in the cave of Shayol Ghul, locked into that moment of battle against Moridin, but his soul was here.\n\nHe existed in this place that was not, this place outside of the Pattern, this place where evil was born. He looked into it, and he knew it. The Dark One was not a being, but a force-an essence as wide as the universe itself, which Rand could now see incomplete detail. Planets, stars in their multitudes, like the motes above a bonfire.\n\nThe Dark One still strove to destroy him. Rand felt strong despite the attacks. Relaxed, complete. With his burdens gone, he could fight again. He held himself together. It was difficult, but he was victorious.\n\nRand stepped forward.\n\nThe Darkness shuddered. It quivered, vibrated, as if disbelieving.\n\nI DESTROY THEM.\n\nThe Dark One was not a being. It was the darkness between. Between lights, between moments, between eyeblinks.\n\nALL IS MINE THIS TIME. IT WAS EVER MEANT TO BE. IT WILL EVER BE."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Rand saluted those who died."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The blood running across rocks. The weeping of those who witnessed others fall. The Shadow threw all of it at Rand, intent on Rands destruction. But it did not destroy him.\n\n\"We will never give in,\" Rand whispered. \"/ will never give in.\"\n\nThe vast Shadow thundered and shook. It sent jolts through and across the world. The ground rent, the laws of nature fractured. Swords turned against their owners, food spoiled, rock turned to mud.\n\nIt came upon Rand again, the force of nothingness itself trying to pull him apart. The strength of the attack did not lessen. And yet, suddenly, it felt like an idle buzzing.\n\nThey would not give up. It wasn't just about Rand. All of them would keep fighting. The Dark One's attacks lost meaning. If they could not make him yield, if they could not make him relent, then what were they?\n\nWithin the tempest, Rand sought the void as Tam had taught him. All emotion, all worry, all pain. He took it and fed it into the flame of a single candle.\n\nHe felt peace. The peace of a single drop of water hitting a pond. The peace of moments, the peace between eyeblinks, the peace of the void.\n\n\"I will not give up,\" he repeated, and the words seemed a wonder to him.\n\nI CONTROL THEM ALL. I BREAK THEM BEFORE ME. YOU HAVE LOST, CHILD OF HUMANKIND.\n\n\"If you think that,\" Rand whispered into the darkness, \"then it is because you cannot see.\"\n\nLoial was panting hard when he returned to the northern end of the Heights. He gave the news to Mat, about how Lan had fought so bravely before he went down, taking Demandred with him. Loial's report affected Mat deeply, as it did all members of his army, particularly the Borderlanders who had lost a king, a brother. There was a disturbance among the Sharans as well; somehow, news of Demandred s death was already percolating through their ranks."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat forced down his grief. That wasn't what Lan would have wanted. Instead, Mat raised his ashandarei. \"Tai'shar Malkier/\" he screamed with all the force he could. \"Lan Mandragoran, you bloody wonderful man! You did it!\"\n\nHis shouts rang in the silence as he charged toward the Shadow armies. Shouts rang behind him: \"Tai'shar Malkier/\" Shouts from all nationalities, all peoples, Borderlander and not. They surged across the Heights alongside Mat. Together, they attacked the stunned foe.\n\nThose Who Fight\n\nYOU CANNOT FATHOM IT, CAN YOU? Rand demanded of the darkness. IT IS BEYOND YOU. YOU BREAK US, AND STILL WE FIGHT! WHY? HAVEN'T YOU KILLED US? HAVEN'T YOU RUINED US?\n\nCHAPTER\n\nYOU, the Dark One replied. I HAVE YOU.\n\nRand stepped forward. In this place of nothing, the Pattern seemed to swirl around him like a tapestry. HERE IS YOUR FLAW, SHAITAN-LORD OF THE DARK, LORD OF ENVY! LORD OF NOTHING! HERE IS WHY YOU FAIL! IT WAS NOT ABOUT ME. IT'S NEVER BEEN ABOUT ME!\n\nIt was about a woman, torn and beaten down, cast from her throne and made a puppet-a woman who had crawled when she had to. That woman still fought.\n\nIt was about a man that love repeatedly forsook, a man who found relevance in a world that others would have let pass them by. A man who remembered stories, and who took fool boys under his wing when the smarter move would have been to keep on walking. That man still fought."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was about a woman with a secret, a hope for the future. A woman who had hunted the truth before others could. A woman who had given her life, then had it returned. That woman still fought.\n\nIt was about a man whose family was taken from him, but who stood tall in his sorrow and protected those he could.\n\nIt was about a woman who refused to believe that she could not help, could not Heal those who had been harmed.\n\nIt was about a hero who insisted with every breath that he was anything but a hero.\n\nIt was about a woman who would not bend her back while she was beaten, and who shone with the Light for all who watched. Including Rand.\n\nIt was about them all.\n\nHe saw this, over and over, in the Pattern arrayed about him. Rand walked through eons and ages, his hand passing through ribbons of the Patterns light.\n\nHERE IS THE TRUTH, SHAITAN, Rand said, taking another step forward, arms out, woven Pattern spreading around them. YOU CANNOT WIN UNLESS WE GIVE UP. THAT'S IT, ISN'T IT? THIS FIGHT ISN'T ABOUT A VICTORY IN BATTLE. TAKING ME... IT WAS NEVER ABOUT BEATING ME. IT WAS ABOUT BREAKING ME.\n\nTHAT'S WHAT YOU'VE TRIED TO DO WITH ALL OF US. IT'S WHY AT TIMES YOU TRIED TO HAVE US KILLED, WHILE OTHER TIMES YOU DIDN'T SEEM TO CARE. YOU WIN WHEN YOU BREAK US. BUT YOU HAVEN'T. YOU CAN'T.\n\nThe darkness trembled. The nothingness shook, as if the arches of the heavens themselves were cracking. The Dark One's shout was defiant."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Within the void, Rand continued forward, and the darkness trembled.\n\nI CAN STILL KILL, the Dark One bellowed. I CAN STILL TAKE THEM ALL! I AM LORD OF THE GRAVE. THE BATTLE LORD, HE IS MINE. ALL ARE MINE EVENTUALLY!\n\nRand stepped forward, hand stretched out. In his palm sat the world, and upon that world a continent, and upon that continent a battlefield, and upon that battlefield two bodies on the ground.\n\nMat fought, Tam at his side with sword out. Karede and the Deathwatch Guard joined them, then Loial and the Ogier. The armies of a dozen nations and peoples fought, many joining him as he rushed across the plateau.\n\nThey were outnumbered three to one.\n\nMat fought, bellowing in the Old Tongue. \"For the Light! For honor! For glory! For life itself!\"\n\nHe slew one Trolloc, then another. Half a dozen in moments, but he felt he was fighting with the surf itself. Wherever he struck down blackness, more took its place. Trollocs moving in the shadows, lit only by the occasional lantern or burning arrow stuck in the ground.\n\nThe Trollocs didn't fight as one. We can break them, Mat thought. We have to break them! This was his chance. Push now, while the Sharans were dazed at Demandred s fall.\n\nTHE SON OF BATTLES. I WILL TAKE HIM. I WILL TAKE THEM ALL, ADVERSARY. AS I TOOK THE KING OF NOTHING.\n\nBlood and Bloody ashes! What was that nothingness in his head? Mat beheaded a Trolloc, then wiped his brow, Karede and the Deathwatch Guards covering him fora moment."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat could feel the battlefield in the night. There were a lot of Trollocs and Sharans, so many of them.\n\n\"There are too many!\" Arganda called from nearby. \"Light, they'll overwhelm us! We need to fallback! Cauthon, can you hear me?\"\n\nI can do this, Mat thought. I can win this battle. An army could defeat superior numbers, but Mat needed momentum, an opening. A favorable toss of the dice.\n\nRand stood above the Pattern and looked down at the fallen men in a land where hope seemed to have died. \"You have not been watching closely enough. About one thing, you are wrong. So very wrong...\"\n\nCornered and alone, a boy huddled in a cleft in the rock. Horrors with knives and fangs-the Shadow itself made flesh-dug at his hiding place, reaching with nails like knives and ripping his skin.\n\nTerrified, crying, bloodied, the boy raised a golden horn to his lips.\n\nMat squinted, the battle seeming to dim around him.\n\nSo very wrong, Shai'tan, Rand's voice whispered in Mat's mind.\n\nThen the voice was no longer in Mat's mind. It could be heard distinctly by everyone on the battlefield.\n\nThat one you have tried to kill many times, Rand said, that one who lost his kingdom, that one from whom you took everything...\n\nLurching, bloodied from the sword strike to his side, the last king of the Malkieri stumbled to his feet. Lan thrust his hand into the air, holding by its hair the head of Demandred, general of the Shadows armies.\n\nThat man, Rand shouted. That man still fights!\n\nMat felt the battlefield grow still. All were frozen in place."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At that moment, there rang out a soft but powerful sound, a clear note, golden, one long tone that encompassed everything. The sound of a horn, pure and beautiful.\n\nMat had heard that sound once before.\n\nMellar knelt beside Elayne, pressing the medallion against her head to stop her from channeling. This could have gone in a very different way, my Queen,\"he said.\" You should have been more accommodating.\"\n\nLight. That leer was an awful thing. He had gagged her, of course, but she did not give him the satisfaction of crying.\n\nShe would find away to escape this. She had to shake free of the medallion. Of course, if she did, there was still the channeler. But if she could evade the medallion, then strike quickly...\n\nPity that your little Captain-General isn't alive to watch,\"Mellar said.\" Fool that she was, I really do think she believed that she was Birgitte from the legends.\" Elayne heard a soft sound in the distance. The ground vibrated. An earthquake.\n\nShe tried to concentrate, but she could only think that Birgitte had been right all along. It was fully possible for the babes to be safe, as Min had foretold, while Elayne herself was left dead.\n\nWhite mist climbed up from the ground around them, like the souls of the dead, curling.\n\nMellar stiffened, suddenly.\n\nElayne blinked, looking up at him. Something silvery jutted from the front of Mellar's chest. It looked like... an arrowhead.\n\nMellar turned, knife dropping from his fingers. Behind him, Birgitte Silverbow stood over her corpse, one foot to either side of the headless body. She raised a bow, bright as newly polished silver, and released another arrow, which seemed to trail light as it struck Mellar in the head and pitched him to the ground. Her next shot took Mellar's channeler, killing the Dreadlord with a silver arrow before the man could respond."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All around them, Mellar's men stood as if paralyzed, gaping at Birgitte. The clothing she now wore seemed to glow. A short white coat, a volumi-\n\nnous pair of pale yellow trousers and a dark cloak. Her long golden hair hung in an intricate braid, down to her waist.\n\n\"I am Birgitte Silverbow,\" Birgitte announced, as if to dispel doubt. \"The Horn of Valere has sounded, calling all to the Last Battle. The heroes have returned!\"\n\nLan Mandragoran held aloft the head of one of the Forsaken-their battle commander, supposedly invincible.\n\nThe Shadow's army could not ignore what had happened, none of them, wherever they were on the battlefield. The voice that had come out of nowhere had proclaimed it. That the attacker should stand while the Chosen lay dead... it stunned them. Frightened them.\n\nAnd then the Horn sounded in the distance.\n\n\"Press forward!\" Mat yelled. \"Press forward!\" His army threw themselves ferociously onto the Trollocs and Sharans.\n\n\"Cauthon, what was that sound?\" Arganda demanded, stumbling up beside Pips. The man still had one arm in a sling and carried a bloodied mace in the other hand. Around Mat, the Deathwatch Guard fought and grunted, cutting down Trollocs.\n\nMat yelled, throwing himself into the fight. \"That was the bloody Horn of Valere! We can still win this night!\"\n\nThe Horn. How had the bloody Horn been sounded? Well, it looked like Mat wasn't tied to the thing any longer. His death at Rhuidean must have broken him from it.\n\nSome other unlucky fool could bear that burden now. Mat howled a battlecry, shearing the arm off a Trolloc, then stabbing it through the chest. The Shadow's entire army became disoriented at the sound of the Horn. Those Trollocs nearest Lan scrambled back, clawing over one another in desperate urgency to escape him. That left the Trollocs fighting along the slope spread thin, without reserves. And nobody seemed to be in charge."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Myrddraal nearby raised swords against their own Trollocs, trying to get those that were fleeing to turn back and fight, but flaming arrows shot by the Two Rivers archers fell from the sky and riddled the Fades' bodies.\n\nTam al'Thor, Mat thought, I'm going to bloody send you my best pair of boots. Light burn me, but I will. \"Tome!\" Mat shouted. \"All riders that can hold a flaming weapon, tome\\\"\n\nMat kicked Pips into a gallop, shoving his way through Trollocs that were still fighting. Mat's attack opened the way for Furyk Karede and his few remaining men to punch the hole in the horde of Trollocs wider. Following that, the full force of the remaining Borderlanders poured through after Mat, toward Lan.\n\nThe Sharan army showed signs of weakening, but they continued their offensive, their discipline forcing them to do what their hearts were calling them to end. Lan's victory wouldn't win the battle outright-there were far too many enemies-but without Demandred, the Shadow had lost direction. Even the Fades were showing the lack of a leader. The Trollocs began to fallback and regroup.\n\nMat and the Borderlanders galloped southwest across the Heights and came to where Lan was standing. Mat jumped from his horse and grabbed Lan by the shoulder as the Malkieri king faltered. Lan looked at Mat with grim thanks, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he started to fall, dropping Demandreds head to the ground.\n\nA man in a black coat rode over. Mat hadn't realized that Narishma was still there, fighting alongside the Borderlanders. The Kandori Asha'man threw himself off his horse and took Lan by the other arm, then concentrated."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The brief Healing was enough to bring Lan back to consciousness.\n\n\"Get him on a horse, Narishma,\" Mat said. \"You can work on him more when we get back to our army. I don't want to be stuck behind enemy lines if those Trollocs below decide to comeback up the Heights.\"\n\nThey rode back northeast, laying into the back of the Trollocs' right flank with swords and lances as they swept past, which unsettled the beasts even more. Once past, the Borderlanders swung their mounts around and charged directly into the Trolloc hordes again, who were looking around in all directions, not sure where the next attack would becoming from. Mat and Narishma continued to ride toward their own back lines, with Lan in tow. Narishma eased the Malkieri off his horse and had him lie on the ground to continue the Healing, while Mat paused to consider their situation.\n\nBehind them, mist gathered. Mat was struck with a terrible thought. He had ignored a terrible possibility. The Horn of Valere still called, a distant-yet unmistakable sound. Oh, Light, Mat thought. Oh, bloody stumps on a battlefield. Who blew it? Which side?\n\nThe fog formed, like worms crawling out of the ground after a rainstorm. It gathered into a billowing cloud, a thunderhead on the ground, and shapes on horses charged down it. Figures of legend. Buad of Albhain, as regal as any queen. Amaresu, holding aloft her glowing sword. Hend the Striker, dark-skinned, a hammer in one hand and a spike in the other.\n\nA figure rode through the mists at the front of the heroes. Tall and imperious, with a nose like a beak, Artur Hawkwing carried Justice, his sword, on his shoulder as he rode. Though the rest of the hundred-odd heroes followed Flawkwing, one broke off in a streak of mist, galloping away. Mat didn't get a good look at the rider. Who had it been, and where was he going so quickly?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat pulled his hat on tighter, nudging Pips forward to meet the ancient king. I suppose I'll know which side summoned him, Mat thought, if he tries to kill me. Mat lifted the ashandarei across his saddle. Could he fight Artur Hawkwing? Light, could anyone beat one of the heroes of the Horn?\n\n\"Hello, Hawkwing,\" Mat called.\n\n\"Gambler,\" Hawkwing replied. \"Do take better care of what has been alotted you. Almost, I worried we would not be summoned for this fight.\" Mat let out a relaxing breath. \"Bloody ashes, Hawkwing! You needn't have drawn it out like that, you bloody goat-kisser. So you fight for us?\" \"Of course we fight for the Light,\" Hawkwing said. \"We would never fight for the Shadow.\"\n\n\"But I was told-\" Mat began.\n\n\"You were told wrong,\" Hawkwing said.\n\n\"Besides,\" Hend said, laughing. \"If the other side had been able to summon us, you'd be dead by now!\"\n\n\"I did die,\" Mat said, rubbing at the scar on his neck. \"Apparently that tree claimed me.\"\n\n\"Not the tree, Gambler,\" Hawkwing said. \"Another moment, one that you cannot remember. It is fitting, as Lews Therin did save your life both times.\"\n\n\"Remember him,\" Amaresu snapped. \"I have seen you murmur that you fear his madness, but all the while you forget that every breath you breathe-every step you take-comes at his forbearance. Your life is a gift from the Dragon Reborn, Gambler. Twice over.\"\n\nBlood and bloody ashes. Even dead women treated him the way Nynaeve did. Where did they learn it? Were there secret lessons?"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hawkwing nodded toward something nearby. Rand's banner; Dannil still held it aloft. \"We arrive hereto gather at the banner. We can fight for you because of it, Gambler, and because the Dragon leads you-though he does it from afar. It is enough.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Mat said, looking at the banner, \"I guess since you're here, you can fight the battle now. I'll pull my men back.\"\n\nHawkwing laughed. \"You think we hundred can fight this entire battle?\"\n\n\"You're the bloody heroes of the Horn,\" Mat said. \"That's what you do, isn't it?\"\n\n\"We can be defeated,\" said pretty Blaes of Matuchin, dancing her horse to the side of Hawkwing's. Tuon couldn't be mad if he looked a little at a hero, right? People were supposed to stare at them. \"If we are wounded in dire ways, we will have to withdraw and recover in the World of Dreams.\"\n\n\"The Shadow knows how to incapacitate us,\" Hend added. \"Bind us hand and foot, and we can do nothing to aid the battle. It doesn't matter if one is immortal when one cannot move.\"\n\n\"We can fight well,\" Hawkwing said to Mat. \"And we will lend you our strength. This is not our war alone. We are just one part of it.\"\n\n\"Bloody wonderful,\" Mat said. That Horn was still sounding. \"Then tell me this. If I didn't blow that thing, and the Shadow didn't do it... who did?\"\n\nThick Trolloc nails scored Olver's arm. He kept blowing the Horn through his tears, eyes squeezed shut, in the small cleft in the rocky outcrop.\n\nYm sorry, Mat, he thought as a dark-haired hand scrabbled fora hold on the Horn. Another grabbed him by the shoulder, nails digging deeply, making blood pulse down his arm."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Horn was ripped from his hands.\n\nYm sorry!\n\nThe Trolloc yanked Olver upward.\n\nThen dropped him.\n\nOlver tumbled to the ground, dazed, and then jumped as the Horn fell into his lap. He grabbed it, shaking and blinking away his tears.\n\nShadows churned above. Grunting. What was happening? Cautiously, Olver raised his head, and found someone standing above, one foot planted on either side of him. The figure fought in a blur, facing down a dozen Trollocs at once, his staff whirling this way and that as he defended the boy.\n\nOlver caught sight of the man's face, and his breath caught. \"Noal\"?\"\n\nNoal clubbed a Trolloc arm, forcing the creature back, then glanced at Olver and smiled. Though Noal still appeared aged, the weariness was gone from his eyes, as if a great burden had been lifted from him. A white horse stood nearby, with a golden saddle and reins, the most magnificent animal that Olver had ever seen.\n\n\"Noal, they said you died!\" Olver cried.\n\n\"I did,\" Noal said, then laughed. \"The Pattern was not finished with me, son. Sound that Horn! Sound it proudly, Hornsounder!\"\n\nOlver did so, blowing the Horn as Noal fooght the Trollocs back in a small ctrcle aronnd Olver. Noal. Noal was one of the heroes of the Horn!\n\nre^ 0ve^ 0 Sloping horses announced others, come to rescue Olver rrom the Shadowspawn.\n\nSuddenly, Olver felt a deep warmth. He had lost so many people, but one of them... one... had comeback for him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "CHAPTER"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Wolfbrother\n\nElayne's captors looked at Birgitte, stunned, and Elayne took the moment to jerk her body sideways. She rolled to her knees; her pregnancy made her awkward, but she was hardly incapable. The medallion that Mellar had been holding against her slipped to the ground, and she found the glow of saidar awaiting her grasp. She filled herself with the Power, and held her belly.\n\nHer children stirred within. Elayne wove flows of Air, knocking her captors backward. Nearby, Elayne's Guards, having rallied, burst through Mellar's soldiers. A few stopped when they saw Birgitte.\n\n\"Keep fighting, you daughters and sons of goats!\" Birgitte yelled, loosing arrows at the mercenaries. \"I might be dead, but I'm still your bloody commander, and you will obey orders!\"\n\nThat spurred them into motion. The rising mist curled upward, fogging the battlefield. It seemed to glow faintly in the darkness. In moments, Elayne's channeling, Birgitte's bow, and her Guards'work sent the remnants of Mellar's Darkfriend mercenaries running.\n\nBirgitte dropped six of them with arrows as they fled.\n\n\"Birgitte,\" Elayne said through tears. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Sorry?\" Birgitte turned to her. \"Sorry? Why do you mourn, Elayne? I have it all back! My memory has returned.\" She laughed. \"It is wonderful! I don't know how you stood me these last few weeks. I moped worse than a child who'd just broken her favorite bow.\"\n\n\"I... Oh, Light.\" Elayne's insides told her she'd still lost her Warder, and the pain of the bond breaking was not a rational thing. It didn't matter that Birgitte stood before her. \"Perhaps I should bond you again?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It would notwork,\" Birgitte said, waving her hand with a dismissive gesture."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Are you hurt?\"\n\n\"Nothing but my pride.\"\n\n\"Lucky for you, but luckier that the Horn was blown when it was.\" Elayne nodded.\n\n\"I'm going to join the other heroes,\" Birgitte said. \"You stay here and recover.\"\n\n\"Light burn that\\\" Elayne said, forcing herself to her feet. \"I'm not bloody staying behind now. The babes are all right. I'm riding.\"\n\n\"Elayne-\"\n\n\"My soldiers think I'm dead,\" Elayne said. \"Our lines are breaking, our men dying. They have to see me to know that there is still hope. They won't know what this mist means. If they have ever needed their queen, this is the moment. Nothing short of the Dark One could stop me from returning now.\"\n\nBirgitte frowned.\n\n\"You're not my Warder any longer,\" Elayne said. \"But you're still my friend. Will you ride with me?\"\n\n\"Stubborn fool.\"\n\n\"I'm not the one who just refused to stay dead. Together?\"\n\n\"Together,\" Birgitte said, nodding.\n\nAviendha pulled up short, listening to new howls. Those didn't sound quite like wolves.\n\nThe tempest at Shayol Ghul continued. She didn't know which side was winning. Everywhere lay bodies, some ripped apart by wolves, others still smoldering from attacks of the One Power. The storm winds whipped and raged, though no rain fell, and waves of dust and gravel washed across her.\n\nShe could feel channeling from the Pit of Doom, but it was like a quiet pulse, as opposed to the storm that had been the cleansing. Rand. Was he all right? What was happening?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The white clouds brought in by the Windfinders churned among the jet black storm clouds above, swirling together in a massive, writhing pattern above the mountain peak. From what she'd heard of the Windfinders-they had withdrawn up Shayol Ghul to a ledge far above the cave entrance, still working the Bowl of Winds-they were at a breaking point. More\n\nthan two thirds of their numbers had collapsed from exhaustion. Soon, the storm would consume everything.\n\nAviendha prowled through the maelstrom, seeking the source of those howls. She didn't have any other channelers with whom to link, now that Rafela had left to join the Dragonsworn's last stand at the cavern. Out here, in the valley, different groups killed one another, shifting back and forth. Maidens, Wise Ones, siswai'aman, Trollocs, Fades. And wolves; hundreds of them had joined the battle so far. There were also some Domani, Tairens and Dragonsworn-though most of those fought near the path up to Rand.\n\nSomething hit the ground beside her, crooning, and she lashed out before thinking. The Draghkar burst into flames like a stick dried by a hundred days of sunlight. She took a deep breath, looking around her. Howls. Hundreds upon hundreds of them.\n\nShe broke into a run toward those howls, crossing the valley floor. As she did so, someone emerged from the dusty shadows, a wiry man with a graybeard and golden eyes. He was accompanied by a small pack of wolves. They glanced at her, then turned back in the direction they'd been going.\n\nAviendha stopped. Golden eyes.\n\n\"Ho, he who runs with wolves!\" she called at the man. \"Have you brought Perrin Aybara with you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man froze. He acted like a wolf, careful yet dangerous. \"I know of Perrin Aybara,\" he called back, \"but he is not with me. He hunts in another place.\"\n\nAviendha walked closer to the man. He watched her, wary, and several of his wolves growled. It did not seem they trusted her or her kind much more than they trusted Trollocs.\n\n\"These new howls,\" she called over the wind, \"they are from your... friends?\"\n\n\"No,\" the man said, eyes growing distant. \"No, not any longer. If you know of women who can channel, Aiel, you should bring them now.\" He moved off toward the sounds, his pack running with him.\n\nAviendha followed him, keeping her distance from those wolves, but trusting their senses above her own. They reached a small rise in the floor of the valley, one that she'd seen Ituralde use on occasion for overseeing the defense of the pass.\n\nPouring out of the pass were scores of dark shapes. Black wolves, the size of small horses. They loped across the rock, and though they were out of her sight, Aviendha knew they were leaving footprints melted into the stone.\n\nHundreds of wolves attacked the darker shapes, leaping on their backs, but were thrown free. They didn't seem to be doing much good.\n\nThe man with the wolves growled.\n\n\"Darkhounds?\" Aviendha shouted.\n\n\"Yes,\" he called back, bellowing to be heard over the tempest. \"This is the Wild Hunt, the worst of their kind. These cannot fall to mortal weapons. The bites of common wolves will not harm them, not permanently.\"\n\n\"Then why do they fight?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wolfbrother laughed. \"Why do any of us fight? Because we must try to win somehow! Go! Bring Aes Sedai, some of those Asha'man if you can find them! These creatures will rollover your armies as easily as a wave over pebbles!\"\n\nThe man took off down the slope, his wolves joining him. She understood why they fought. They might not be able to kill the Darkhounds, but they could slow the creatures. And that was their victory here-buying Rand enough time to do what he needed to.\n\nShe turned, alarmed, running to gather the others. The sensation of a powerful channeler wielding saidar nearby stopped her dead. She spun, looking toward the source of the sensation.\n\nGraendal was there, up ahead-just barely visible. She calmly sent deadly weaves at a line of Defenders of the Stone. She had collected a small group of women-Aes Sedai, Wise Ones-and a few guards. The women knelt around her, and had to be feeding her their power, considering the strength of the weaves she unleashed.\n\nHer guards were four Aiel men with black veils, not red. Under Compulsion for certain. Aviendha hesitated, wavering. What of the Darkhounds?\n\nI have to take this chance, she thought. She wove, releasing a ray of blue light into the sky-the sign she, Amys and Cadsuane had agreed upon.\n\nThat, of course, alerted Graendal. The Forsaken spun on Aviendha and lashed outwith Fire. Aviendha dodged, rolling. A shield came next, trying to cut Aviendha off from the Source. She desperately pulled in as much of the One Power as she could hold, drawing it through the turtle brooch. Cutting a woman off with a shield was like trying to snip a rope with shears-the thicker the rope, the more difficult it was to cut. In this case, Aviendha had taken in enough saidar to rebuff the shield."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She gritted her teeth, spinning weaves of her own."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Light, she hadn't realized how tired she was. She almost slipped, the threads of the One Power threatening to drift from her control.\n\nShe drove them into place by force of will and released a weave of Air and Fire, although she knew that those captives included friends and allies.\n\nThey would rather die than be used by the Shadow, she told herself as she dodged another attack. The ground exploded around her, and she dove to the ground.\n\nNo. Keep moving.\n\nAviendha leaped to her feet and ran. That saved her life as lightning began to rain down behind her, its might sprawling her to the ground again.\n\nShe came up bleeding from several cuts on her arm, and started making weaves. She had to drop them as a complex weave came near her. Compulsion. If that seized her, Aviendha would become another of the womans thralls, forced to lend her strength to overthrowing the Light.\n\nAviendha wove Earth into the ground in front of herself, throwing up chips of rock, dust, smoke. Then she rolled away, seeking a hollow in the ground, peeking out carefully. She held her breath, and did not channel.\n\nThe whipping winds cleared the diversion she'd created. Graendal hesitated in the middle of the field. She could not sense Aviendha, who had earlier placed upon herself the weave that masked her ability. If she channeled, Graendal would know, but if she did not she would be safe.\n\nGraendal's Aiel thralls stalked outward, their veils up, searching for Aviendha. Aviendha was tempted to channel right then and there, to end their lives. Any Aiel she knew would thank her for that."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She stayed her hand; she didn't want to give herself away. Graendal was too strong. She could not face the woman alone. But if she waited...\n\nA weave of Air and Spirit attacked Graendal, trying to cut her off from the Source. The woman cursed, spinning. Cadsuane and Amys had arrived.\n\n\"Stand! Stand for Andor and the Queen!\"\n\nElayne galloped through groups of pikemen, now in disarray, her hair streaming behind her, shouting with a Power-aided voice. She held aloft a sword, though the Light only knew what she would do with it if she had to swing it.\n\nMen turned as she passed. Some were cut down by Trollocs as they did so. The beasts were pushing through the defenses, reveling in the broken lines and the slaughter.\n\nMy men are too far gone, Elayne thought. Oh, Light. My poor soldiers. The tale she saw was one of death and despair. The Andoran and Cairhienin pike formations had folded after taking horrible casualties; now men held in little bunches, many scattering, scrambling for their lives. \"Stand!\" Elayne cried. \"Stand with your queen!\"\n\nMore men stopped running, but they didn't go back to the fighting. What to do?\n\nFight.\n\nElayne attacked a Trolloc. She used the sword, despite just moments ago thinking that she'd be hopeless with it. She was. The boar-headed Trolloc actually looked surprised as she flailed at it.\n\nFortunately, Birgitte was there, and shot the beast in the forearm as it swung for Elayne. That saved her life, but still didn't let her kill the blasted thing. Her mount-borrowed from one of her Guardsmen-danced around, keeping the Trolloc from cutting her down, as she tried to stab it. Her sword didn't move in the direction she willed. The One Power was far more refined a weapon. She would use that if she had to, but she would rather fight for the moment."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She didn't have to struggle long."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Soldiers surrounded her, dispatching the beast and defending her from four others that had begun advancing on her. Elayne wiped her brow and pulled back.\n\n\"What was that? \"Birgitte asked, riding up beside her, then loosing an arrow at a Trolloc before it could kill one of the soldiers.\" Ratliff's nails, Elayne! I thought I'd seen the extent of your foolishness.\"\n\nElayne held up her sword. Nearby, men began to cry out. \"The Queen lives!\" they yelled. \"For Light and Andor! Stand with the Queen!\"\n\n\"How would you feel,\" Elayne said softly, \"if you saw your queen trying to kill a Trolloc with a sword as you ran away?\"\n\n\"I'd feel like I needed to bloody move to another country,\" Birgitte snapped, loosing another arrow, \"one where the monarchs don't have pudding for brains.\"\n\nElayne sniffed. Birgitte could say what she wished, but the maneuver worked. Like a bit of yeast, the force of men she'd gathered grew, expanding to either side of her and building a battle line. She kept the sword raised high, shouting, and-after a moment of indecision-created a weave that made a majestic banner of Andor float in the air above her, the red lion to light the night.\n\nThat would draw direct fire from Demandred and his channelers, but the men needed the beacon. She would fight off attacks as they came.\n\nThey did not, as she rode down the battle lines, shouting words that gave hope to her men. \"For Light and Andor! Your Queen lives! Stand and fight!\"\n\nMat thundered forward across the top of the Heights with the remains of a once-great army, pushing southwest. The Trollocs were massed ahead on his left side, the Sharan army ahead on the right. Facing the enemy were the heroes, Borderlanders, Karede and his men, Ogier, Two Rivers archers, Whitecloaks, Ghealdanin and Mayeners, mercenaries, Tinna and her Dragonsworn refugees. And the Band of the Red Hand. His own men."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He remembered, within those memories that were not his, leading forces far grander. Armies that were not fragmented, half-trained, wounded and exhausted. But Light help him, he had never been so proud. Despite all that had happened, his men took up the shouts of attack and threw themselves into the battle with renewed vigor.\n\nDemandred s death gave Mat a chance. He felt the armies surging, and through them flowed that instinctive rhythm of the battle. This was the moment he had been seeking. It was the card upon which to bet everything he had. Ten to one odds, still, but the Sharan army, the Trollocs and Fades had no head. No general to guide them. Different contingents took conflicting actions as various Fades or Dreadlords tried to give orders.\n\nI'll have to watch those Sharans, Mat thought. They'll have generals who can reinstitute command.\n\nFor now, he needed to hit hard, hit powerfully. Push the Trollocs and Sharans off the Heights. Down below, the Trollocs filled the corridor between the bogs and the Heights, pressing hard the defenders at the riverbed. Elaynes death had been a lie. Her troops had been in disarray-they had lost more than a third of their soldiers-but just as they were about to be routed by the Trollocs, she rode into their midst and rallied them. Now they were miraculously holding their lines, despite being pushed back well into Shienaran territory. They could not resist much longer, though, with or without Elayne: more and more pikes on the front lines were being mobbed, soldiers were falling all across the field, and her cavalries and the Aiel were working furiously, with increasing difficulty, to contain the enemy. Light, if I can push the Shadow off these bloody Heights into those beasts below, they'll fall allover each other!"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lord Cauthon!\" Tinna shouted nearby. She leveled a bloody spear from horseback, pointing to the south.\n\nLight shone distantly, toward the River Erinin. Mat wiped his brow. Was that...\n\nGateways in the sky. Dozens of them, and through them poured to'raken in flight, carrying lanterns. A fiery flight of arrows launched at the Trollocs in the corridor; the to'raken, carrying archers, flew information over the ford and the corridor beyond.\n\nOver the battle, Mat heard sounds that must have made the enemy's blood run cold: hundreds, maybe thousands of animal horns blared out in the night their call to war; a thunderstorm of drums began to beat out a unified cadence that became louder and louder; and a rumble of footfalls made by an advancing army, man and animal alike, slowly approaching Polov Heights in the dark. No one could see them in the pre-dawn blackness, but everyone on the battlefield knew who they were.\n\nMat let out a whoop of joy. He could seethe Seanchan movements playing out in his mind's eye now. Half their army would march directly north from the Erinin, joining with Elayne's harried army at the Mora to crush the Trollocs trying to force their way into Shienar. The other half would swing to the west around the bogs to the western side of the Heights, crushing the Trollocs in the corridor from behind.\n\nNow the falling hail of arrows was accompanied by glowing lights popping into existence in the air-damane, making more light for their army to see by-a display that would have done the Illuminators proud! Indeed, the ground shook as the massive Seanchan army marched across the Field of Merrilor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Thunder shattered the air off Mat's right flank on the Heights-a deeper thunder."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Talmanes and Aludra had mended the dragons and were firing directly from the cavern through gateways into the Sharan army.\n\nThe pieces were almost all in place. There was one more bit of business that needed tending to before the final toss of the dice.\n\nMat's armies pressed forward.\n\nJur Grady fingered the letter from his wife, sent with Androl from the Black Tower. He couldn't read it in this darkness, but that didn't matter, so long as he could hold it. He'd memorized the words anyway.\n\nHe watched this canyon tenor so miles to the northeast along the River Mora, where Cauthon had positioned him. He was well out of sight of the battlefield at Merrilor.\n\nHe didn't fight. Light, it was hard, but he didn't fight. He watched, trying not to think of the poor people who had died trying to hold the river here. It was the perfect place for it-the Mora passed through a canyon here, where the Shadow could stop the river. And it had. Oh, the men Mat had sent had tried to fight the Dreadlords and the Sharans. What a fool's task that had been! Grady's anger smoldered at Cauthon. Everyone claimed that he was a good general. Then he went and did this.\n\nWell, if he was a genius, why had he had sent five hundred simple folk from a mountain village in Murandy to hold this river? Yes, Cauthon had also sent about a hundred soldiers from the Band, but that wasn't nearly enough. They'd died after holding the river fora few hours. There were hundreds upon hundreds of Trollocs and several Dreadlords at the river canyon!\n\nWell, those folk had been slaughtered, to a man. Light! There had been children in that group. The townsfolk and the few soldiers had fought well, defending the canyon for far longer than Grady would have thought possible, but then they'd fallen. And he'd been ordered not to help them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Well, now Grady waited in the darkness atop the canyon walls, hiding among a cluster of rocks. Distant from him, perhaps a hundred paces, Trollocs moved by torchlight-the Dreadlords needed that to see. They, too, were atop the canyon walls, which gave them the height and position to look down on the river below-which had become a lake. The three Dreadlords had broken up large chunks of the canyon walls and created the barrier of rock that dammed the river.\n\nThat had dried out the Mora at Merrilor and let the Trollocs cross the river with ease. Grady could open that dam in a moment-a strike with the One Power would open it up and release the water from the canyon. So far, he hadn't dared. Cauthon had ordered him not to attack, but beyond that, he'd never be able to defeat three strong Dreadlords on his own. They'd kill him and dam the river again.\n\nHe caressed his wife's letter, then prepared himself. Cauthon had ordered him to make a gateway at dawn to that same village. Doing so would reveal Grady. He didn't know the purpose of the order.\n\nThe basin below was filled with water, covering the bodies of the fallen.\n\nI guess now will do as well as anytime, Grady thought, taking a deep breath. Dawn should be almost here, though the cloud cover kept the land dark.\n\nHe'd follow his orders. Light burn him, but he would. But if Cauthon survived the battle downriver, he and Grady would have words. Stern ones. A manlike Cauthon, born of ordinary folk, should have known better than to throwaway lives.\n\nHe took another deep breath, then began to weave a gateway. He opened it at that village the people had come from yesterday. He didn't know why he was to do this; the village had been depopulated to makeup the group that had fought earlier. He doubted anybody remained. What had Mat called it? Hinderstap?"
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 16"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The golden-haired woman kept her eyes forward. \"The city is lost, but the city is not the nation. We must have this meeting, but do so quickly, so that I can return to Andor. Where is Rand?\"\n\n\"Taking his time,\" Egwene said. \"He's always been like that.\"\n\n\"I have spoken to Aviendha,\" Elayne said, her bay horse shifting and snorting. \"She spent last night with him, but he wouldn't tell her what he intends this day.\"\n\n\"He has mentioned demands,\" Egwene said, watching the rulers gather with their retinues. Darlin Sisnera, King of Tear, was first. He would support her, for all the fact that he owed Rand his crown. The Seanchan threat still bothered him deeply. The middle-aged man with a dark, pointed beard was not particularly handsome, but self-composed and sure of himself. He bowed from horseback to Egwene, and she held out herring.\n\nHe hesitated, then dismounted and came forward, bowing his head and kissing the ring. \"The Light illumine you, Mother.\"\n\n\"I am glad to see you here, Darlin.\"\n\n\"So long as your promise holds. Gateways to my homeland should the moment require it.\"\n\n\"It will be done.\"\n\nHe bowed again, eyeing a man riding up toward Egwene from the\n\nother side. Gregorin, Steward of Illian, was Darlin's equal in many ways--\n\nbut not all. Rand had named Darlin Steward of Tear, but the High Lords had asked for him to be crowned king. Gregorin remained merely a Steward. The tall man had lost weight recently, his round face-with its customary Illianer beard-starting to look sunken. He didn't wait for Egwene to prod him; he swung from his horse and seized her hand, executing a flourishing bow and a kiss to the ring."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm pleased the two of you could put aside differences to join me in this endeavor,\" Egwene said, drawing their attention away from glares atone another.\n\n\"The Lord Dragon's intentions are... troubling,\" Darlin said. \"He chose me to lead Tear because I opposed him when I felt it necessary. I believe he will listen to reason if I present it to him.\"\n\nGregorin snorted. \"The Lord Dragon do be perfectly reasonable. We do need to offer a good argument, and I do think he will listen.\"\n\n\"My Keeper has some words for each of you,\" Egwene said. \"Please listen to what she has to say. Your cooperation will be remembered.\"\n\nSilviana rode forward and drew Gregorin aside to speak to him. There wasn't much of importance to say, but Egwene had feared these two would end up chipping atone another. Silviana's instruction was to keep them apart.\n\nDarlin regarded her with a discerning gaze. He seemed to understand what she was doing, but didn't complain as he mounted his horse.\n\n\"You seem troubled, King Darlin,\" she said.\n\n\"Some old rivalries run deeper than the ocean's depths, Mother. I can almost wonder if this meeting was the work of the Dark One, hoping that we would end up destroying one another and doing his work for him.\"\n\n\"I understand,\" Egwene said. \"Perhaps it would be best if you advised your men-again, if you've already done so-that there are to be no accidents\" this day.\"\n\n\"A wise suggestion.\" He bowed, pulling back.\n\nThey were both with her, as was Elayne. Ghealdan would stand for Rand, if what Elayne said about Queen Alliandre was true. Ghealdan wasn't so powerful that Alliandre worried her-the Borderlanders were another matter. Rand seemed to have won them over."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Each of their flags flew over their respective armies, and each ruler was in attendance save Queen Ethenielle, who was in Kandor trying to organize the refugees fleeing her homeland."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She had left a sizable contingent for this meeting-including Antol, her eldest son-as if to state that what happened here was as important to Kandor's survival as fighting on the border.\n\nKandor. The first casualty of the Last Battle. The entire country was said to be aflame. Would Andor be next? The Two Rivers? Steady, Egwene thought.\n\nIt felt awful to have to consider who was'for\" whom, but it washer duty to do so. Rand could not direct the Last Battle personally, as he would undoubtedly wish to do. His mission would be to fight the Dark One; he would have neither the presence of mind nor the time to act as a commanding general as well. She intended to come from this meeting with the White Tower acknowledged as leading the collected forces against the Shadow, and she would not give up responsibility for the seals.\n\nHow much could she trust this man Rand had become? He wasn't the Rand she'd grownup with. He was more akin to the Rand she'd come to know out in the Aiel Waste, only more confident. And, perhaps, more cunning. He had grown quite proficient at the Game of Houses.\n\nNone of these changes in him were terrible things, assuming he could still be reasoned with.\n\nIs that the flag of Arad Doman? she thought, surprised. It wasn't just the flag, it was the King's flag, indicating he was riding with those forces that had just arrived on the field. Had Rodel Ituralde finally ascended to the throne, or had Rand picked someone else? The Domani king's flag flew next to that of Davram Bashere, uncle to the Queen of Saldaea.\n\n\"Light.\" Gawyn nudged his horse up beside hers. \"That flag...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I see it,\" Egwene said. \"I'll have to pin down Siuan: have her sources mentioned who took the throne? I was afraid the Domani would ride into battle without a leader.\"\n\n\"The Domani? I was talking about that\"\n\nShe followed his eyes. Anew force was approaching, moving with apparent haste, under the banner of the red bull. \"Murandy,\" Egwene said. \"Curious. Roedran has finally decided to join the rest of the world.\"\n\nThe newly arrived Murandians made more show than they probably deserved. Their apparel, at least, was pretty: yellow and red tunics over mail; brass helmets with wide brims. The wide red belts bore the symbol of the charging bull. They kept their distance from the Andorans, wrapping around behind the Aiel forces and coming in from the northwest.\n\nEgwene looked toward Rand's camp. Still no sign of the Dragon himself.\n\n\"Come,\" she said, nudging Sifter into motion toward the Murandian force. Gawyn fell in beside her, and Chubain brought a force of twenty soldiers as a guard.\n\nRoedran was a corpulent man swathed in red and gold; she could practically hear the man's horse groaning with each step. His thinning hair was more white than black, and he watched her with an unexpectedly keen expression. The King of Murandy was little more than ruler of one city, Lugard, but her reports indicated that this man wasn't doing a bad job of expanding his rule. Given a few years, he might actually have a full kingdom to call his own.\n\nRoedran held up a meaty hand, stopping his procession. She reined in her horse and waited for him to approach her, as would be customary. He didn't."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Gawyn muttered a curse."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene let a smile tug at the edges of her lips. Warders could be useful, if only to express what she should not. Finally, she nudged her horse forward.\n\n\"So.\" Roedran looked her over. \"You're the new Amyrlin. An Andoran.\" \"The Amyrlin has no nationality,\" Egwene said coolly. \"I am curious to find you here, Roedran. When did the Dragon extend an invitation to you?\" \"He didn't.\" Roedran waved fora cupbearer to bring him some wine. I thought it was high time Murandy stopped being left out of events.\"\n\n\"And through whose gateways did you arrive? Surely you didnt cross Andor to reach here.\"\n\nRoedran hesitated.\n\n\"You came from the south,\" Egwene said, studying him. \"Andor. Elayne sent for you?\"\n\n\"She did not send for me,\" Roedran snapped. \"The bloody Queen promised me if I supported her cause, she'd release a proclamation of intention, promising not to invade Murandy.\" He hesitated. \"Besides, I've been curious to see this false Dragon. Everybody in the world seems to have taken leave of their senses regarding him.\"\n\n\"You do know what this meeting is about, don't you?\" Egwene said.\n\nHe waved a hand. \"Talking this man out of his conquering ways, or something like that.\"\n\n\"Good enough.\" Egwene leaned forward. \"I hear your rule is consolidating nicely, and that Lugard may actually have some real authority in Murandy for once.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Roedran said, sitting up a bit straighten'That is true.\"\n\nEgwene leaned forward further. You re welcome, she said softly, then smiled. She turned Sifter and led her retinue away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Egwene,\" Gawyn said softly, trotting his horse beside hers, \" did you really\n\njust do that?\"\n\n\"Does he look troubled?\"\n\nGawyn glanced over his shoulder. \"Very.\"\n\n\"Excellent.\"\n\nGawyn continued riding fora moment, then broke into a deep grin.\n\n\"That was positively evil.\"\n\n\"He's as boorishly rude as reports have made him out to be,\" Egwene said. \" He can suffer a few nights spent wondering how the White Tower has been pulling strings in his realm. If I'm feeling particularly vengeful, I'll\n\nsetup some good secrets for him to unearth. Now, where is that sheep-herder? He has the audacity to demand that we. . \"\n\nShe trailed off as she saw him coming. Rand strode across the browning grass of the field, wearing red and gold. A tremendous bundle hovered in the air beside him, held up by weaves she could not see.\n\nThe grass greened at his feet.\n\nIt wasn't a large change. Where he trod, the turf recovered, spreading from him like a soft wave of light through opening shutters. Men stepped back; horses stamped their hooves. Within minutes, the entire ring of troops stood on grass that lived again.\n\nHow long had it been since she'd seen a simple field of green? Egwene breathed out. Some of the gloom to the day had been lightened. \"I'd give good coin to know how he does that,\" she murmured under her breath.\n\n\"A weave?\" Gawyn asked. \"I've seen Aes Sedai make flowers bloom in winter.\"\n\n\"I know of no weave that would be so extensive,\" Egwene said. \"It feels so natural. Go see if you can find out how he's doing it. Maybe one of the Aes Sedai with Asha'man Warders will let the truth out.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gawyn nodded, slipping away.\n\nRand continued his walk, trailed by that large floating bundle, Asha'man in black and an honor guard of Aiel. The Aiel spurned regular ranks, sweeping the land like a swarm, fanning out. Even soldiers who followed Rand shied back from the Aiel. For many of the older soldiers, a wave of browns and tans like that meant death.\n\nRand walked calmly, purposefully. The cloth bundle he carried with Air began to unravel in front of him. Large swaths of canvas rippled in the wind before Rand, braiding with one another, leaving long trails behind themselves. Wooden poles and metal stakes fell from inside them, and Rand caught those in unseen threads of Air, spinning them.\n\nHe never broke stride. He didn't look at the maelstrom of cloth, wood andiron, as canvas rippled in front of him like fish from the depths. Small clods of soil erupted from the ground. Some soldiers jumped.\n\nHe's grown into quite the showman, Egwene thought as the poles spun and came down in the holes. Sweeping bands of cloth wrapped around them, tying themselves. In seconds, a massive pavilion settled into place, the Dragon banner flapping from one end, the banner with the ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai on the other.\n\nRand didn't break stride as he reached the pavilion, cloth sides parting for him. \"You may each bring five,\" he announced as he stepped inside.\n\n\"Silviana,\" Egwene said, \"Saerin, Romanda, Lelaine. Gawyn will be our fifth when he returns.\"\n\nSitters behind suffered the decision in silence. They couldn't complain about her taking her Warder for protection or her Keeper for support. The other three she'd chosen were widely considered among the most influential in the Tower, and together the four she brought included two Aes Sedai each from Salidar and the White Tower loyalists."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The other rulers allowed Egwene to enter before them. All understood that this confrontation was, at its core, between Rand and Egwene. Or, rather, the Dragon and the Amyrlin Seat.\n\nThere were no chairs inside the pavilion, though Rand hung saidin globes of light at the corners, and one of the Asha'man deposited a small table at the center. She did a quick count. Thirteen glowing globes.\n\nRand stood facing her, arms behind his back, hand clasping his other forearm as had become his habit. Min stood at his side, one hand on his arm.\n\n\"Mother,\" he said, nodding his head.\n\nSo he would pretend respect, would he? Egwene nodded back. \"Lord Dragon.\"\n\nThe other rulers and their small retinues filed in, many doing so with timidity until Elayne swept in, the sorrow on her face lightening as Rand smiled warmly at her. The wool-headed woman was still impressed with Rand, pleased with how he'd managed to bully everyone into coming here. Elayne considered it a matter of pride when he did well.\n\nAnd you don't feel a small measure of pride? Egwene asked herself. Rand al'Thor, once simple village boy and your near-betrothed, now the most powerful man in the world? You don't feel proud of what he's done?\n\nPerhaps a little.\n\nThe Borderlanders entered, led by King Easar of Shienar, and there was nothing timid about them. The Domani were led by an older man that Egwene did not know.\n\n\"Alsalam,\" Silviana whispered, sounding surprised. \"He has returned.\"\n\nEgwene frowned. Why hadn't any of her informants told her he had shown up? Light. Did Rand know that the White Tower had tried to take him into custody? Egwene herself had discovered that fact only a few days before, buried in a pile of Elaida's papers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Cadsuane entered, and Rand nodded to her, as if giving permission."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She didn't bring five, but neither did he seem to require her to be counted among Egwene's five. That struck her as a bothersome precedent. Perrin stepped in with his wife, and they stayed to the side. Perrin folded his tree-trunk arms, wearing his new hammer at his belt. He was far easier to read than Rand was. He was worried, but he trusted Rand. Nynaeve did, too, burn her. She took her position near Perrin and Faile.\n\nThe Aiel clan chiefs and Wise Ones entered in a large mass-Rand's\"Bring only five\" probably meant that each clan chief could bring five. Some Wise Ones, including Sorilea and Amys, made their way to Egwene's side of the tent.\n\nLight bless them, Egwene thought, releasing a held breath. Rand's eyes flickered toward the women, and Egwene caught a tightening of his lips. He was surprised that all the Aiel didn't back him, each and everyone.\n\nKing Roedran of Murandy was one of the last to enter the tent, and Egwene noticed something curious as he did. Several of Rand's Asha'man-Narishma, Flinn, Naeff-moved in behind Roedran. Others, near Rand, looked as alert as cats who had seen a wolf wander by.\n\nRand stepped over to the shorter, wider man and looked down into his eyes. Roedran stuttered fora moment, then started wiping his brow with a handkerchief. Rand continued to stare at him.\n\n\"What is it?\" Roedran demanded. \"You're the Dragon Reborn, so they say. I do not know that Yd have let you-\"\n\n\"Stop,\" Rand said, raising a finger."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Roedran quieted immediately.\n\n\"Light burn me,\" Rand said. \"You're not him, are you?\"\n\n\"Who?\" Roedran asked.\n\nRand turned away from him, waving his hand to make Narishma and the others stand down. They did so reluctantly. \"I thought for certain...\" Rand said, shaking his head. \"Where are you?\"\n\n\"Who?\" Roedran asked loudly, almost squeaking.\n\nRand ignored him. The flaps to the pavilion had finally stilled, everyone inside. \"So,\" Rand said. \"We are all here. Thank you for coming.\"\n\n\"It's not like we did have much of a bloody choice,\" Gregorin grumbled. He'd brought a handful of Illianer nobility with him as his five, all members of the Council of Nine. \"We did be caught between you and the White Tower itself. Light burn us.\"\n\n\"You know by now,\" Rand continued, \"that Kandor has fallen and Caemlyn has been taken by the Shadow. The last remnants of Malkier are under assault at Tarwin's Gap. The end is upon us.\"\n\n\"Then why are we standing here, Rand al'Thor?\" demanded King Paitar of Arafel. The aging man had only a thin ribbon of gray hair remaining on his head, but he was still broad-shouldered and intimidating. \"Let us put an end to this posturing and be to it, man! There is fighting to be done.\"\n\n\"I promise you fighting, Paitar,\" Rand said softly. \"All that you can stomach, and then some. Three thousand years ago, I met the Dark Ones forces in battle. We had the wonders of the Age of Legends, Aes Sedai who could do things that would make your mind reel, ter'angreal that could enable people to fly and make them immune to blows. We still barely won. Have you considered that? We face the Shadow in much the same state as it was then, with Forsaken who have not aged. But we are not the same people, not by far.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The tent fell silent. Flaps blew in the breeze.\n\n\"What are you saying, Rand al'Thor?\" Egwene said, folding her arms. \"That we are doomed?\"\n\n\"I'm saying we need to plan,\" Rand said, \"and present a unified attack. That we did poorly last time, and it nearly cost us the war. We each thought we knew the best way to go.\" He met Egwene's eyes. \" In those days, every man and woman considered themselves to be the leader on the field. An army of generals. That is why we nearly lost. That is what left us with the taint, the Breaking, the madness. I was as guilty of it as anyone. Perhaps the most guilty.\n\n\"I will not have that happen again. I will not save this world only to have it broken a second time! I will not die for the nations of humanity, only to have them turn upon one another the moment the last Trolloc falls. You're planning it. Light burn me, I know that you are!\"\n\nIt would have been easy to miss the glances that Gregorin and Darlin shot atone another, or the covetous way Roedran watched Elayne. Which nations would be broken by this conflict, and which would step in-out of altruism-to help its neighbors? How quickly would altruism become greed, the chance to hold another throne?\n\nMany of the rulers here were decent people. It took more than a decent person to hold that much power and not look afield. Even Elayne had gobbled up another country when the opportunity presented itself. She would do so again. It was the nature of rulers, the nature of nations. In Elayne's case, it even seemed appropriate, as Cairhien would be better off beneath her rule than it had been."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "How many would assume the same?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That they, of course, could rule better-or restore order-in another land?\n\n\"Nobody wants war,\" Egwene said, drawing the crowd's attention. \"However, I think what you are trying to do here is beyond your calling, Rand al'Thor. You cannot change human nature and you cannot bend the world to your whims. Let people live their lives and choose their own paths.\"\n\n\"I will not, Egwene,\" Rand said. There was afire in his eyes, like the one she'd seen when he first sought to bring the Aiel to his cause. Yes, that emotion seemed very like Rand-frustration that people didn't seethe world as clearly as he thought he did.\n\n\"I don't see what else you can do,\" Egwene said. \"Would you appoint an emperor, someone to rule over us all? Would you become a true tyrant, Rand al'Thor?\"\n\nHe didn't snap back a retort. He held out his hand to the side, and one of his Asha'man slipped a rolled paper into it. Rand took it and placed it on the table. He used the Power to unroll it and to keep it flat.\n\nThe oversized document was filled with tight, cramped letters. \"I call it the Dragon's Peace,\" Rand said softly. \"And it is one of the three things which I will require of you. Your payment, tome, in exchange for my life.\"\n\n\"Let me see that.\" Elayne reached for it, and Rand obviously let it go, because she was able to snatch it off the table before any of the other surprised rulers.\n\n\"It locks the borders of your nations to their current positions,\" Rand said, arms behind his back again. \"It forbids country from attacking country, and it requires the opening of a great school in each capital-fully funded and with doors open to those who wish to learn.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It does more than that,\" Elayne said, one finger to the document as she read. \"Attack another land, or enter into a minor armed border dispute, and the other nations of the world have an obligation to defend the country attacked. Light! Tariff restrictions to prevent the strangling of economies, barriers on marriage between rulers of nations unless the two lines of rule are clearly divided, provisions for stripping the land from a lord who starts a conflict... Rand, you really expect us to sign this?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThe outrage from the rulers was immediate, though Egwene stood calmly, and shot a few glances at the other Aes Sedai. They seemed troubled. As well they should be-and this was only part of Rand's'price.\"\n\nThe rulers muttered, each wanting a chance at the document, but not wanting to shoulder in and look over Elayne's shoulder. Fortunately, Rand had thought ahead, and smaller versions of the document were distributed.\n\n\"But there are very good reasons for conflict, sometimes!\" Darlin said, looking over his document. \"Such as creating a buffer between you and an aggressive neighbor.\"\n\n\"Or what if some people from our country do be living across the border?\" Gregorin added. \"Do we not have the mandate to step in and protect them, if they do be oppressed? Or what if someone like the Seanchan do claim land that is ours? Forbidding war do seem ridiculous!\"\n\n\"I agree,\" Darlin said. \"Lord Dragon, we should have the mandate to defend land that is rightfully ours!\"\n\n\"I,\" Egwene said, cutting through the arguments, \"am more interested to hear his other two requirements.\"\n\n\"You know one of them,\" Rand said.\n\n\"The seals,\" Egwene said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Signing this document would mean nothing to the White Tower,\" Rand said, apparently ignoring the comment. \"I cant very well forbid all of you to influence the others; that would be foolishness.\"\n\n\"Its already foolishness,\" Elayne said.\n\nElayne was not feeling so proud of him any longer, Egwene thought. \"And as long as there are political games to be played,\" Rand continued to Egwene, \"the Aes Sedai will master them. In fact, this document benefits you. The White Tower always has believed war to be, as they say, shortsighted. Instead, I demand something else of you. The seals.\"\n\n\"I am their Watcher.\"\n\n\"In name only. They were only just discovered, and I possess them. It is out of respect for your traditional title that I approached you about them first.\"\n\n\"Approached me? You didn't make a request,\" she said. \"You didn't make a demand. You came, told me what you were going to do and walked away.\"\n\n\"I have the seals,\" he repeated. \"And I will break them. I won't allow anything, not even you, to come between me and protecting this world.\"\n\nAll around them arguments over the document continued, rulers muttering with their confidants and neighbors. Egwene stepped forward, facing Rand across the small table, the two of them ignored for the moment. \"You won't break them if I stop you, Rand.\"\n\n\"Why would you want to stop me, Egwene? Give me a single reason why it would be a bad idea.\"\n\n\"A single reason other than that it will let the Dark One loose on the world?\"\n\n\"He was not loose during the War of Power,\" Rand said. \"He could touch the world, but the Bore being opened will not loose him. Not immediately.\" \"And what was the cost of letting him touch the world? What are they now? Horrors, terrors, destruction. You know what is happening to the land. The dead walking, the strange twisting of the Pattern. This is what happens with the seals only weakened! What happens if we actually break them? The Light only knows.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is a risk that must betaken.\"\n\n\"I don't agree. Rand, you don't know what releasing his seals will do-you don t know if it might let him escape. You don't know how close he was to getting out when the Bore was last secured. Shattering those seals could destroy the world itself! What if our only hope lies in the fact that he's hindered this time, not completely free?\"\n\n\"It won't work, Egwene.\"\n\n\"You don't know that. How can you?\"\n\nHe hesitated. \"Many things in life are uncertain.\"\n\n\"So you don't know,\" she said. \"Well, I have been looking, reading, listening. Have you read the works of those who have studied this, thought about it?\"\n\n\"Aes Sedai speculation.\"\n\n\"The only information we have, Rand! Open the Dark One's prison and all could be lost. We have to be more careful. This is what the Amyrlin Seat is for, this is part of why the White Tower was founded in the first place!\" He actually hesitated. Light, he was thinking. Could she begetting through to him?\n\n\"I don't like it, Egwene,\" Rand said softly. \"If I go up against him and the seals are not broken, my only choice will be to create another imperfect solution. A patch, even worse than the one last time-because with the old, weakened seals there, I'll just be spreading new plaster over deep cracks. Who knows how long the seals would last this time? Ina few centuries, we could have this same fight allover again.\"\n\n\"Is that so bad?\" Egwene said. \"At least it's sure. You sealed the Bore last time. You know how to do it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We could end up with the taint again.\"\n\n\"We're ready for it, this time. No, it wouldn't be ideal. But Rand... do we really want to risk this? Risk the fate of every living being? Why not take the simple path, the known path? Mend the seals again. Shore up the prison.\"\n\n\"No, Egwene.\" Rand backed away. \"Light! Is this what it's about? You want saidin to be tainted again. You Aes Sedai... you're threatened by the idea of men who can channel, undermining your authority!\"\n\n\"Rand al'Thor, don't you dare be that level of a fool.\"\n\nHe met her eyes. The rulers seemed to be paying little attention to this conversation, despite the fact that the world depended on it. They pored over Rand's document, muttering in outrage. Perhaps that was what he had intended, to distract them with the document, then pounce for the real fight.\n\nSlowly, the rage melted from his face, and he raised his hand to the side of his head. \"Light, Egwene. You can still do it, like the sister I never had-tie my mind in knots and have me raving at you and loving you at the same time.\"\n\n\"At least I'm consistent,\" she said. They were now speaking very softly, leaning across the table toward one another. To the side, Perrin and Nynaeve were probably close enough to hear, and Min had joined them. Gawyn had returned, but he kept his distance. Cadsuane rounded the room, looking in the other direction-too pointedly. She was listening in.\n\n\"I am not making this argument in some fool hope to restore the taint,\" Egwene said. \"You know I'm better than that. This is about protecting humankind. I can't believe you are willing to risk everything on a slender chance.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A slender chance?\" Rand said. \"We're talking about entering darkness instead of founding another Age of Legends. We could have peace, an end to suffering. Or we could have another Breaking. Light, Egwene. I don't know for certain if I could mend the seals, or make new ones, in the same way. The Dark One has to be ready for that plan.\"\n\n\"And you have another one?\"\n\n\"I've been telling it to you. I break the seals to get rid of the old, imperfect plug, and try again in anew way.\"\n\n\"The world itself is the cost of failure, Rand.\" She thought a moment. \"There's more here. What aren't you telling me?\"\n\nRand looked hesitant, and fora moment, he seemed the child she'd once caught sneaking bites of Mistress Cauthon's pies with Mat. \"I'm going to kill him, Egwene.\"\n\n\"Who? Moridin?\"\n\n\"The Dark One.\"\n\nShe drew back in shock. \"I'm sorry. What did you-\"\n\n\"I'm going to kill him,\" Rand said passionately, leaning in. \"I'm going to end the Dark One. We will never have true peace so long as he is there, lurking. I'll rip open the prison, I'll enter it and I'll face him. I'll build anew prison if I have to, but first, I'm going to try to end all of this. Protect the Pattern, the Wheel, for good.\"\n\n\"Light, Rand, you're insane\\\"\n\n\"Yes. That is part of the price I have paid. Fortunately. Only a man with shaken wits would be daring enough to try this.\"\n\n\"I'll fight you, Rand,\" she whispered. \"I won't let you pull all of us into this. Listen to reason. The White Tower should be guiding you here.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I've known the White Tower's guidance, Egwene,\" he replied. \"Ina box, beaten each day.\"\n\nThe two locked eyes across the table. Nearby, other arguments continued.\n\n\"I don't mind signing this,\" Tenobia said. \"It looks fine tome.\"\n\n\"Bah!\" Gregorin snarled. \"You Borderlanders never care anything for southern politics. You'll sign it? Well, good for you. I, however, won't chain my country to the wall.\"\n\n\"Curious,\" Easar said. The calm man shook his head, pure white topknot bobbing. \"As I understand, it's not your country, Gregorin. Unless you're assuming that the Lord Dragon will die, and that Mattin Stepaneos will not demand his throne back. He maybe willing for the Lord Dragon to wear the Laurel Crown, but not you, I'm sure.\"\n\n\"Isn't all of this meaningless?\" Alliandre asked. \"The Seanchan are our worry now, aren't they? Peace can never exist so long as they are there.\" \"Yes,\" Gregorin said. \"The Seanchan and those cursed Whitecloaks.\" \"We will sign it,\" Galad said. Somehow the Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light had ended upholding the official copy of the document. Egwene didn't look at him. It was hard not to stare. She loved Gawyn, and not Galad, but... well... it was hard not to stare.\n\n\"Mayene will sign it as well,\" Berelain said. \"I find the Lord Dragon's will to be perfectly just.\"\n\n\"Of course you'd sign it.\" Darlin sniffed. \"My Lord Dragon, this document seems designed to protect the interests of some nations more than others.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I want to hear what his third requirement is,\" Roedran said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't care anything for talk of the seals; that is Aes Sedai business. He claimed there were three requirements, and we have heard only two.\"\n\nRand raised an eyebrow. \"The third and final price-the last thing you will pay me in exchange for my life on the slopes of Shayol Ghul-is this: I command your armies for the Last Battle. Utterly and completely. You do as I say, go where I say, fight where I say.\"\n\nThis caused a larger eruption of arguments. It was obviously the least outrageous of the three demands, though it was impossible for reasons Egwene had already determined.\n\nThe rulers treated it as an attack on their sovereignty. Gregorin glowered at Rand through the din, only maintaining the most threadbare respect. Amusing, since he had the least authority of them all. Darlin shook his head, and Elayne's face was livid.\n\nThose on Rand's side argued back, primarily the Borderlanders. They're desperate, Egwene thought. They're being overrun. They probably thought that if command were given to the Dragon, he would immediately march to the defense of the Borderlands. Darlin and Gregorin would never agree to that. Not with the Seanchan breathing down their necks.\n\nLight, what a mess.\n\nEgwene listened to the arguments, hoping they would set Rand on edge. Once, they might have. Now, he stood and watched, arms folded behind his back. His face became serene, though she was increasingly certain that was a mask. She'd seen flashes of his temper inside. Rand certainly was more in control of himself now, but he was by no means emotionless.\n\nEgwene actually found herself smiling. For all of his complaints about Aes Sedai, for all of his insistence that he wouldn't be controlled by them, he was acting more and more like one of them himself. She prepared to speak and take control, but something in the tent changed. A... feeling to the air. Her eyes seemed drawn to Rand. Sounds came from outside, sounds she couldn't place. A faint cracking sound? What was he doing?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The arguments trailed off."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One by one the rulers turned toward him. The sunlight outside dimmed, and she was glad for those spheres of light he had made.\n\n\"I need you,\" Rand said softly to them. \"The land itself needs you. You argue; I knew that you would, but we no longer have time for arguments. Know this. You cannot talk me out of my designs. You cannot make me obey you. No force of arms, nor weave of the One Power, can make me face the Dark One for you. I must do it of my own choice.\"\n\n\"You would really toss the world for this, Lord Dragon?\" Berelain asked.\n\nEgwene smiled. The lightskirt suddenly didn't seem so certain of the side she had chosen.\n\n\"I won't have to,\" Rand said. \"You'll sign it. To fail to do so means death.\"\n\n\"So it's extortion,\" Darlin snapped.\n\n\"No,\" Rand said, smiling toward the Sea Folk, who had said little as they stood near Perrin. They had simply read the document and nodded among themselves, as if impressed. \"No, Darlin. It's not extortion... it's an arrangement. I have something you want, something you need. Me. My blood. I will die. We've all known this from the start; the Prophecies demand it. As you wish this of me, I will sell it to you in exchange fora legacy of peace to balance out the legacy of destruction I gave the world last time.\"\n\nHe scanned the meeting, looking at each ruler in turn. Egwene felt his determination almost like a physical thing. Perhaps it was his ta'veren nature, or perhaps it was just the weight of the moment. A pressure rose inside the pavilion, making it difficult to breathe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He's going do it, she thought. They'll complain, but they'll bend.\n\n\"No,\" Egwene said loudly, her voice breaking the air. \"No, Rand alThor, we will not be bullied into signing your document, into giving you sole control of this battle. And you're an utter fool if you think I believe you'd let the world-your father, your friends, all those you love, all of humanity-be slaughtered by Trollocs if we defy you.\"\n\nHe met her eyes, and suddenly she wasn't certain. Light, he wouldn't really refuse, would he? Would he really sacrifice the world?\n\n\"You dare call the Lord Dragon foolish?\" demanded Narishma.\n\n\"The Amyrlin is not to bespoken to that way,\" Silviana said, stepping up beside Egwene.\n\nThe arguments began again, this time louder. Rand kept Egwene's eyes, and she saw the flush of anger rise in his face. The shouting rose, tension mounting. Unrest. Anger. Old hatreds, flaring anew, fueled by terror.\n\nRand rested his hand on the sword he wore these days-the one with the dragons on the scabbard-his other arm folded behind his back.\n\n\"I will have my price, Egwene,\" he growled.\n\n\"Require if you wish, Rand. You are not the Creator. If you go to the Last Battle with this foolishness, we're all dead anyway. If I fight you, then there is a chance I can change your mind.\"\n\n\"Ever the White Tower has been a spear at my throat,\" Rand snapped. \"Ever, Egwene. And now you really have become one of them.\"\n\nShe met his stare. Inside, however, she was beginning to lose certainty. What if these negotiations did breakdown? Would she really drive her soldiers to fight Rand's?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She felt as if she had tripped over a rock at the top of a cliff and was tipping toward the fall. There had to be away to stop this, to salvage it!\n\nRand started to turn away. If he left the pavilion, that would be the end of it.\n\n\"Rand!\" she said.\n\nHe froze. \"I will not budge, Egwene.\"\n\n\"Don't do this,\" she said. \"Don't throw it all away.\"\n\n\"It cannot be helped.\"\n\n\"Yes it can! All you have to do is stop being such a Light-burned, woolheaded, stubborn fool for once!\"\n\nEgwene drew herself back. How could she have spoken to him as if they were back in Emond's Field, at their beginning?\n\nRand stared at her fora moment. \"Well, you could certainly stop being a spoiled, self-certain, unmitigated brat for once, Egwene.\" He threw up his arms. \"Blood and ashes! This was a waste of time.\"\n\nHe was very nearly right. Egwene didn't notice someone new entering the tent. Rand did, however, and he spun as the flaps parted and let in light. He frowned at the interloper.\n\nHis frown died as soon as he saw the person who entered.\n\nMoiraine."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A Knack\n\nThe pavilion grew quiet again. Perrin hated a racket, and the people's scents weren't any better. Frustration, anger, fear. Terror.\n\nCHAPTER\n\nMuch of it was directed at the woman standing just inside the entrance to the pavilion.\n\nMat, you blessed fool, Perrin thought, breaking into a grin. You did it. You actually did it.\n\nFor the first time in awhile, thinking of Mat made the colors swirl in his vision. He saw Mat on a horse, riding along a dusty road, tinkering with something he held. Perrin dismissed the image. Where had Mat gotten to now? Why hadn't he comeback with Moiraine?\n\nIt didn't matter. Moiraine was back. Light, Moiraine! Perrin started toward her to give her an embrace, but Faile caught him by the sleeve. He followed her eyes.\n\nRand. His face had grown pale. He stumbled away from the table, as if all else had been forgotten, and pushed his way to Moiraine. He hesitantly reached out and touched her face. \"By my mother's grave,\" Rand whispered, then fell to his knees before her. \"How?\"\n\nMoiraine smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder. \"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, Rand. Have you forgotten that?\"\n\n\"I...\"\n\n\"Not as you will, Dragon Reborn,\" she said gently. \"Not as any of us will. Perhaps one day it will weave itself out of existence. 1 do not believe that day is today, nor a day soon.\"\n\n\"Who is this woman?\" Roedran said. \"And what is she blathering about? I-\" He cutoff as something unseen flicked him on the side of the head, causing him to jump. Perrin glanced at Rand, then noticed the smile on Egwene slips. He caught the scent of her satisfaction despite all of the people in the pavilion."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Nynaeve and Min, standing nearby, smelled utterly shocked. The Light willing, Nynaeve would stay that way fora little while. Shouting at Moiraine wouldn't help right now.\n\n\"You haven't answered my question,\" Rand said.\n\n\"But I have,\" Moiraine replied fondly. \"It just was not the answer you wanted.\"\n\nRand knelt, then threw his head back and laughed. \"Light, Moiraine! You haven't changed, have you?\"\n\n\"We all change day by day,\" she replied, then smiled. \"Me more than some, lately. Stand up. It is I who should be kneeling before you, Lord Dragon. We all should.\"\n\nRand rose and stepped back to allow Moiraine farther into the pavilion. Perrin caught another scent, and smiled as Thom Merrilin slipped into the tent behind her. The old gleeman winked at Perrin.\n\n\"Moiraine,\" Egwene said, stepping forward. \"The White Tower welcomes you back with open arms. Your service has not been forgotten.\"\n\n\"Hmmm,\" Moiraine said. \"Yes, I should think that having discovered a future Amyrlin would reflect well upon me. That is a relief, as I believe I was on a path to stilling, if not execution, before.\"\n\n\"Things have changed.\"\n\n\"Obviously.\" Moiraine nodded. \"Mother.\" She passed Perrin, and gave him a squeeze on the arm, eyes twinkling.\n\nOne by one, the Borderlander rulers took swords in hands and bowed or curtsied toward her. Each one seemed to know her personally. Many of the others in the tent still looked baffled, though Darlin obviously knew who she was. He was more... thoughtful than confused."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Moiraine hesitated beside Nynaeve. Perrin couldn't catch Nynaeve's scent right then. That seemed ominous to him. Oh, Light. Here it comes...\n\nNynaeve enfolded Moiraine in a powerful embrace.\n\nMoiraine stood fora moment, smelling distinctly shocked, hands out to the sides. Finally, she returned the embrace in a somewhat maternal way, patting Nynaeve on the back.\n\nNynaeve released her, pulling back, then wiped a tear from her eye. \"Don't you dare tell Lan about this,\" she growled.\n\n\"I would not dream of it,\" Moiraine said, moving onto stand in the center of the pavilion.\n\n\"Insufferable woman,\" Nynaeve grumbled as she wiped a tear from the other eye.\n\n\"Moiraine,\" Egwene said. \"You've come at just the right time.\"\n\n\"I have a knack for that.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Egwene continued as Rand stepped backup to the table, \"Rand... the Dragon Reborn... has decided to hold this land for ransom to his demands, refusing to do his duty unless we agree to his whims.\"\n\nMoiraine pursed her lips, taking up the contract for the Dragon's Peace as Galad set it on the table for her. She scanned it.\n\n\"Who is this woman?\" Roedran said. \"And why do we-Would you stop that!\" He raised a hand as if he'd been smacked by a thread of Air, then glared at Egwene-however, this time one of the nearby Asha'man was the one who smelled satisfied.\n\n\"Nice shot, Grady,\" Perrin whispered."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you, Lord Perrin.\"\n\nGrady would know her only by legend, of course, but tales of Moiraine had spread among those who followed Rand.\n\n\"Well?\" Egwene said.\n\n\"And it shall come to pass that what men made shall be shattered, \"\" Moiraine whispered. \"\"The Shadow shall lie across the Pattern of the Age, and the Dark One shall once more lay his hand upon the world of man. Women shall weep and men quail as the nations of the earth are rent like rotting cloth. Neither shall anything stand nor abide. '\"\n\nThe people shuffled their feet. Perrin looked questioningly at Rand.\n\n\"\"Yet one shall be born to face the Shadow,\"\" Moiraine said more loudly. \" 'Born once more as he was born before and shall be born again, time without end! The Dragon shall be Reborn, and there shall bewailing and gnashing of teeth at his rebirth. In sackcloth and ashes shall he clothe the people, and he shall break the world again by his coming, tearing apart all ties that bind!\n\n\"\"Like the unfettered dawn shall he blind us, and burn us, yet shall the Dragon Reborn confront the Shadow at the Last Battle, and his blood shall give us the Light. Let tears flow, O ye people of the world. Weep for your salvation!\"\"\n\n\"Aes Sedai,\" Darlin said, \"pardon, but that is very ominous.\"\n\nA Knack\n\n\"At least it shall be a salvation,\" Moiraine said. \"Tell me, Your Majesty. That prophecy commands you to shed tears. Are you to weep because your salvation comes with such pain and worry? Or, instead, are you to weep for your salvation? For the man who will suffer for you? The only one we know for certain will not walkaway from this fight?\""
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She turned to Rand.\n\n\"These demands are unfair,\" Gregorin said. \"He requires us to keep our borders as they are!\"\n\n\"\"He shall slay his people with the sword of peace,\"\" Moiraine said, \"and destroy them with the leaf. '\"\n\nIt's The Karaethon Cycle. I've heard these words before.\n\n\"The seals, Moiraine,\" Egwene said. \"He's planning to break them. He defies the authority of the Amyrlin Seat.\"\n\nMoiraine did not look surprised. Perrin suspected she'd been listening outside before entering. It was very like her.\n\n\"Oh, Egwene,\" Moiraine said. \"Have you forgotten? 'The unstained tower breaks and bends knee to the forgotten sign. .\"\n\nEgwene blushed.\n\n\"\"There can be no health in us, nor any good thing grow,\"\" Moiraine quoted, \"\"for the land is one with the Dragon Reborn, and he one with the land. Soul of fire, heart of stone.\"\"\n\nShe looked to Gregorin. \"\"In pride he conquers, forcing the proud to yield.\"\"\n\nTo the Borderlanders. \"\"He calls upon the mountains to kneel...\"\"\n\nTo the Sea Folk. \"\"... and the seas to give way.\"\"\n\nTo Perrin, then Berelain. \"\"... and the very skies to bow.\"\"\n\nTo Darlin. \"\"Pray that the heart of stone remembers tears...\"\"\n\nThen, finally, to Elayne. \" . and the soul of fire, love. ' You cannot fight\n\nthis. None of you can. I am sorry. You think he came to this on his own?\"She held up the document.\" The Pattern is balance. It is not good nor evil, not wisdom nor foolishness. To the Pattern, these things matter not, yet it will find balance. The last Age ended with a Breaking, and so the next one will begin with peace-even if it must be shoved down your throats like medicine given to a screaming babe.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If I may speak?\" An Aes Sedai wearing a brown shawl stepped forward. \"You may,\" Rand said.\n\n\"This is a wise document, Lord Dragon,\" the Brown said. She was a stout woman, more direct of tone than Perrin expected from a Brown. \"But I see an enormous flaw to it, one that was raised earlier. So long as the Seanchan are exempt from it, it will be meaningless. There will be no peace so long as they conquer.\"\n\n\"That's an issue,\" Elayne said, arms folded. \" But not the only one. Rand, I see what you're trying to do, and I love you for it. That does not remove the fact that this document is fundamentally untenable. Fora peace treaty to work, both sides must continue to wish for peace because of the benefits presented.\n\n\"This grants noway to settle disputes. They will arise, they always do. Any document like this must give away to settle such things; you must setup away to punish an infraction save for the other countries to enter all-out war. Without that change, little grievances will mount and build pressure over years until they explode.\n\n\"As this is, it all but requires the nations to fall upon the first that breaks the peace. It doesn't stop them from setting up a puppet regime in the fallen kingdom, or even in another kingdom. Overtime, I fear this treaty will be viewed as null; what good is it if it protects only on paper? The end result of this will be war. Massive, overpowering war. You will have peace fora time, particularly while those who revere you live. But for every year of peace you gain, you will earn one of greater destruction once the thing falls apart.\"\n\nRand rested his fingers on the document. \"I will make peace with the Seanchan. We will add a provision. If their ruler does not sign, then the document is voided. Will you all agree to it then?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That fixes the lesser problem,\" Elayne said softly, \"but not the larger one, Rand.\"\n\n\"There is yet a greater issue here,\" anew voice said.\n\nPerrin turned, surprised. Aviendha? She and the other Aiel had not participated in the arguments. They'd only watched. Perrin had almost forgotten they were there.\n\n\"You, too?\" Rand said. \"Come to walk on the shards of my dreams, Aviendha?\"\n\n\"Don't be a child, Rand al'Thor,\" the woman said, striding up to place her finger on the document. \"You have toh.\"\n\n\"I left you out of it,\" Rand protested. \"I trust you, and all of the Aiel.\"\n\n\"The Aiel aren't in it?\" Easar said. \"Light, how did we miss that!\"\n\n\"It is an insult,\" Aviendha said.\n\nPerrin frowned. She smelled very serious. From any other Aiel, he'd expect that sharp scent to be followed by a pulled-up veil and a raised spear.\n\n\"Aviendha,\" Rand said, smiling. \"The others are about to hang me for putting them in it, and you are angry for being left out?\"\n\n\"I demand my boon of you,\" she said. \"This is it. Place the Aiel in your document, your \"Dragon's Peace. ' We will leave you otherwise.\"\n\n\"You don't speak for all of them, Aviendha,\" Rand said. \"You can't-\" All of the tent's Wise Ones stepped up behind Aviendha, as if in rhythm together. Rand blinked.\n\n\"Aviendha carries our honor,\" Sorilea said.\n\n\"Do not be foolish, Rand al'Thor,\" Melaine added."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"This is a thing of the women,\" Sarinde added."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We will not be satisfied until we are treated equally with the wetlanders.\"\n\n\"Is this thing too difficult for us?\" Amys asked. \"Do you insult us by implying we are weaker than the others?\"\n\n\"You're all insane!\" Rand said. \"Do you realize that this would forbid you from fighting one another?\"\n\n\"Not from fighting,\" Aviendha said. \"From fighting without cause.\" \"War is your purpose,\" Rand said.\n\n\"If you believe that, Rand al'Thor,\" she said, voice cold, \"I have trained you poorly indeed.\"\n\n\"She speaks wisdom,\" Rhuarc said, stepping up to the front of the crowd. \"Our purpose was to prepare for your need of us at this Last Battle-our purpose was to be strong enough to be preserved. We will need another purpose. I have buried blood feuds for you, Rand al'Thor. I would not take them up again. I have friends now that I would rather not kill.\"\n\n\"Madness,\" Rand said, shaking his head. \"All right, I'll put you in.\" Aviendha seemed satisfied, but something bothered Perrin. He didn't understand the Aiel-Light, he didn't understand Gaul, who had been with him for so long. Still, he'd noticed that the Aiel liked to be doing something. Even when they lounged, they were alert. When other men gamed or diced, the Aiel were often quietly doing something of use.\n\n\"Rand,\" Perrin said, stepping up, taking him by the arm. \"A moment, please?\"\n\nRand hesitated, then nodded to him and waved his hand. \"We're sealed off; they can't hear us now. What is this about?\"\n\n\"Well, I just noticed something. The Aiel are like tools.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"All right. .\"\n\n\"And tools that aren't used grow rusty,\" Perrin said.\n\n\"Which is why they raid one another,\" Rand said, rubbing his temple. \"To keep up their skills. That is why I exempted them. Light, Perrin! I think this is going to be a disaster. If we include them in this document...\"\n\n\"I don't think you have a choice, now,\" Perrin said. \"The others will never sign it if the Aiel are left out.\"\n\n\"1 don't know if they'll sign it anyway,\" Rand said. He looked longingly at the sheet on the table. \"It was such a beautiful dream, Perrin. A dream of good for humanity. I thought I had them. Right up until Egwene called my bluff, I thought I had them.\"\n\nIt was a good thing others couldn't smell Rand's emotions, or everyone there would have known that he'd never refuse to go against the Dark One. Rand showed not a hint of it on his face, but inside, Perrin knew he had been as nervous as a boy at his first shearing.\n\n\"Rand, don't you see?\" Perrin said. \"The solution.\"\n\nRand frowned at him.\n\n\"The Aiel,\" Perrin said. \"The tool that needs to be used. A treaty that needs to be enforced...\"\n\nRand hesitated, then grinned widely. \"You're a genius, Perrin.\"\n\n\"So long as it's about blacksmithing, I suppose I know a thing or two.\" \"But this... this isn't about blacksmithing, Perrin...\"\n\n\"Of course it is,\" Perrin said. How could Rand not see that?\n\nRand turned, no doubt ending his weave. He strode up to the document, then held it up toward one of his clerks in the back of the pavilion. \"I want two provisions added. First, this document is void if not signed by either the Seanchan Daughter of the Nine Moons or the Empress. Second... the Aiel-all but the Shaido-are to be written into the document as enforcers of the peace and mediators of disputes between nations. Any nation may call upon them if they feel abused, and the Aiel-not enemy armies-will provide redress. They can hunt criminals across national borders. They are to be subject to the laws of the nations in which they reside at the time, but they are not subjects of that nation.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He turned to Elayne."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There is your enforcement, Elayne, the way to keep your small pressures from building.\"\n\n\"The Aiel?\" she asked skeptically.\n\n\"Will you agree to this, Rhuarc?\" Rand asked. \"Bael, Jheran, the rest of you? You claim to be left without purpose, and Perrin sees you as a tool that needs to be worked. Will you take this charge? To prevent war, to punish those who do wrong, to work with the rulers of nations to see justice served?\" \"Justice as we see it, Rand al'Thor,\" Rhuarc said, \"or as they see it?\"\n\n\"It will have to be according to the conscience of the Aiel,\" Rand said. \"If they call for you, they will have to know that they'll receive your justice. This will notwork if the Aiel simply become pawns. Your autonomy will be what makes this effective.\"\n\nGregorin and Darlin began to complain, but Rand silenced them with a look. Perrin nodded to himself, arms folded. Their complaints were weaker\n\nA Knack\n\nTky see this as an opportunity, he realized. They view the Aiel as savages, and think they'll be easy to manipulate once Rand is gone. Perrin grinned, imagining their defeat should they attempt that course.\n\nthan they had been before. He smelled... thoughtfulness from many\n\nnow of them.\n\n\"This is very sudden,\" Rhuarc said.\n\n\"Welcome to the dinner party,\" Elayne added, still staring aggers at Rand'Try the soup.\" Oddly, she smelled proud. Strange woman.\n\n\"I warn you, Rhuarc,\" Rand said. \" You will need to change your ways. The Aiel will have to act together on these matters; the chiefs and Wise Ones will need to hold council to make decisions together. One clan cannot fight a battle while other clans disagree and fight for the other side."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We will speak of it,\" Rhuarc said, nodding to the other Aiel chie s.\n\n\"This will mean an end to the Aiel.\"\n\n\"A beginning as well,\" Rand said.\n\nThe Aiel clan chiefs and the Wise Ones gathered separately to one side, and spoke in soft voices. Aviendha lingered, with Rand staring away, troubled. Perrin heard him whisper something, so soft Perrins ears bare y ma e\n\nit out. more.\n\n' ... your dream now... when you wake from this life, we will be no\n\nRand's clerks, smelling frantic, came forward to begin working on the document's additions. The woman Cadsuane watched all events with astern\n\nexpression.\n\nShe smelled extremely proud.\n\n\"Add a provision,\" Rand said. \" The Aiel can call upon other nations to aid them in their enforcement if they decide that their own numbers wil not be enough. Give formal methods by which nations can petition the Aie for redress or for permission to attack a foe.\n\nThe clerks nodded, working harder.\n\n\"You act as if this were settled,\" Egwene said, eyes on Rand.\n\n\"Oh, it is far from that,\" Moiraine said. \" Rand, I have some words\n\nfor you.\"\n\n\"Are they words I will like? he asked.\n\n\"I suspect not. Tell me, why do you need to command the armies yourself? You will be traveling to Shayol Ghul where you will no doubt be unable to contact anyone.\" ^\n\n\"Somebody needs to be in command, Moiraine.\"\n\n\"On this point, I believe all would agree.\"\n\nRand folded his arms behind his back, smelling troubled. I have ta en responsibility for this people, Moiraine. I want to see that they're cared for, that the brutalities of this battle are minimized.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I fear that is a poor reason to lead a battle,\" Moiraine said softly. \"You do not fight to preserve your troops; you fight to win. This leader need not be you, Rand. It should not be you.\" *\n\n\"I won't have this battle turn into a tangle, Moiraine,\" he said. \"If you could seethe mistakes we made last time, the confusion that can result when everyone thinks they are in control. Battle is turmoil, but we still need an ultimate commander to make decisions, to hold everything together.\"\n\n\"What of the White Tower?\" Romanda asked, stepping-half shoving-her way up beside Egwene. \"We have the resources for efficient travel between battlefronts, we are coolheaded in times that would crush others, and we are trusted by all nations.\"\n\nThat last bit prompted a raised eyebrow from Darlin.\n\n\"The White Tower does seem the optimal choice, Lord Dragon,\" Teno-bia added.\n\n\"No,\" Rand said. \"The Amyrlin is many things, but a leader of war... I do not think it a wise choice.\"\n\nEgwene, oddly, said nothing. Perrin studied her. He'd have thought that she'd jump at the chance to lead the war herself.\n\n\"It should be one of us,\" Darlin said. \"Chosen from those who would go to battle here.\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" Rand said. \"So long as you all know who is in command, I will cede this point. You must meet my other demands, however.\"\n\n\"You still insist that you must break the seals?\" Egwene said.\n\n\"Do not worry, Egwene,\" Moiraine said, smiling. \"He is not going to break the seals.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rand's face darkened.\n\nEgwene smiled.\n\n\"You are going to break them,\" Moiraine said to Egwene.\n\n\"What? Of course I'm not!\"\n\n\"You are the Watcher of the Seals, Mother,\" Moiraine said. \"Did you not hear what I said earlier? \"It shall come to pass that what men made shall be shattered, and the Shadow shall lie across the Pattern of the Age, and the Dark One shall once more lay his hand upon the world of man...\" It must happen.\"\n\nEgwene seemed troubled.\n\n\"You have seen this, have you not?\" Moiraine whispered. \"What have you dreamed, Mother?\"\n\nA Knack\n\nEgwene didn't respond at first.\n\nWhat did you see?\" Moiraine pressed, stepping closer to her.\n\nHis feet crunching,\"Egwene said, staring Moiraine in the eyes.\" Ashe strode forward, Rand's feet stepped on the shards of the Dark One's prison. I saw him, in another dream, hacking away at it to open it. But I never actually saw him opening it, Moiraine.\"\n\n\"The shards were there, Mother,\" Moiraine said. \"The seals had been broken\"\n\n\"Dreams are subject to interpretation.\"\n\nYou know the truth of this one. It does need to be done, and the seals are yours. You will break them, when the time is right. Rand, Lord Dragon Reborn, it is time to give them to her.\"\n\n\"I don't like this, Moiraine,\" he said.\n\n\"Then not much has changed, has it?\" she asked lightly. \"I believe you have often resisted doing what you are supposed to. Particularly when I am the one to point it out to you.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He paused fora moment, then laughed, reaching into the pocket of his coat. He slipped out three discs of cuendillar; each split by a sinuous line down the center. He set them on the table.\n\n\"How will she know the time?\" he asked.\n\n\"She will,\" Moiraine said.\n\nEgwene smelled skeptical, and Perrin didn't blame her. Moiraine always had believed in following the weave of the Pattern and bowing to the Wheels turnings. Perrin didn't see it that way. He figured you made your own path, and trusted in your own arms to do what needed to be done. The Pattern wasn't a thing to depend on.\n\nEgwene was Aes Sedai. It seemed that she felt she should see it as Moiraine did. Either that, or she was willing to agree and just take those seals into her hands. \"I'll break them, when I feel it must be done,\" she said, taking the seals.\n\nYou 11 sign, then.\" Rand took the document as the clerks protested the hastiness with which they'd had to work. It now had several additions on the back. One of the clerks cried out, reaching for the sand, but Rand did something with the One Power, drying the ink instantly as he placed the document before Egwene.\n\nI will, she said, holding out a hand fora pen. She read the provisions carefully, the other sisters looking over her shoulders. They nodded one at a time.\n\nEgwene put pen to paper.\n\n\"And now the rest,\" Rand said, turning to measure reactions.\n\n\"Light, he's grown clever,\" Faile whispered beside Perrin. \"Do you realize what he did?\"\n\n\"What?\" Perrin said, scratching his beard."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He brought with him all he knew would support him,\" Faile whispered. \" The Borderlanders, who would sign practically anything to garner help for their homelands. Arad Doman, which he helped most recently. The Aiel... well, all right, who knows what the Aiel will do at a given time? But the idea stands.\n\n\"Then he let Egwene gather the others. It's genius, Perrin. That way, with her bringing this coalition against him, all he really had to do was convince her. Once he swayed her to his side, the others would look foolish to stand apart.\"\n\nIndeed, as the rulers began to sign-Berelain going first and most eagerly-those who had supported Egwene started to fidget. Darlin stepped up and took the pen. He hesitated fora moment, then signed.\n\nGregorin followed. Then the Borderlanders, each in turn, followed by the King of Arad Doman. Even Roedran, who still seemed to find this entire thing a fiasco, signed. Perrin found that curious.\n\n\"He blusters a lot,\" Perrin said to Faile, \"but he knows this is good for his kingdom.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said. \"He's been acting a buffoon partially to throw everyone off, make them dismiss him. The document outlines current borders of nations to remain as they are,\" Faile said. \"That's a huge boon to someone trying to stabilize his rule. But. .\"\n\n\"But?\"\n\n\"The Seanchan?\" Faile said softly. \"If Rand persuades them, does that allow them to keep the countries they have now? The women who are dam-ane> Are they allowed to slap one of those collars on any woman who passes their border?\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's helper, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 18"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes.\"\n\nBashere waited for more of a response, perhaps an explanation. When she didn't give one, he moved off, issuing the last orders. Elayne turned Moonshadow to ride down the ranks of soldiers here at the front lines, where they'd setup near the forests. There wasn't much she could do now, in these last moments as her commanders gave orders, but she could be seen riding with confidence. Where she passed, the men raised their pikes higher, lifted their chins.\n\nElayne kept her own eyes on that smoldering city. She would not look away, and she would not let anger control her. She would use the anger.\n\nBashere returned to her a short time later. \"It's done. The basements of many buildings that are still standing have been filled with oil. Talmanes and the others are in place. Once your Warder returns with word that the Kinswomen are prepared to open another round of gateways, we can proceed.\"\n\nElayne nodded, and then removed her hand from her belly as Bashere glanced at it. She hadn't realized she'd been holding it again. \"What do you think of me going to battle while pregnant? Is it a mistake?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"No. It proves just how desperate our situation is. It will make the soldiers think. Make them more serious. Besides...\" \"What?\"\n\nBashere shrugged. \"Perhaps it will remind them that not everything in this world is dying.\"\n\nElayne turned back, looking at the distant city. Farmers burned their fields in the spring to prepare them for new life. Maybe that was what Andor was suffering now.\n\n\"Tell me,\" Bashere said. \"Are you going to tell the men that you're carrying the Lord Dragon's child?\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Children, Elayne corrected in her head. \"You presume to know something that mayor may not be true, Lord Bashere.\"\n\n\"I have a wife, and a daughter. I recognize the look in your eyes when you seethe Lord Dragon. No woman with child touches her hand to her womb so reverently when looking on a man who is not the father.\"\n\nElayne drew her lips into a line.\n\n\"Why do you hide it?\" Bashere asked. \" I've heard what some of the men think. They talk of some other man, a Darkfriend named Mellar, once\n\nCaptain of your Guardswomen. I can see that the rumors are false, but others are not so wise. You could kill those rumors if you wished.\"\n\n\"Rand's children will be targets,\" she said.\n\n\"Ah...\" he replied. He knuckled his mustache fora moment.\n\n\"If you disagree with the reasoning, Bashere, speak your mind. I will not suffer a toady.\"\n\n\"I'm no toady, woman,\" he said with a huff. \"But regardless, I hardly doubt your child could be a greater target than he or she already is. You're high commander of the armies of the Light! I think your men deserve to know what exactly they're fighting for.\"\n\n\"It is not your business to know,\" Elayne said, \"nor is it theirs.\"\n\nBashere raised an eyebrow at her. \"The heir to the realm,\" he said flatly, \"is not the business of its subjects?\"\n\n\"I believe you are overstepping your bounds, General.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I am,\" he said. \"Maybe spending so much time with the Lord Dragon has warped the way I do things. That man... you could never tell what he was thinking. Half of the time, he wanted to hear my mind, as raw as I could lay it out. The other half of the time, it seemed like he'd break me in two just for commenting that the sky looked a little dark.\" Bashere shook his head. \"Just give it some thought, Your Majesty. You remind me of my daughter. She might have done something similar, and this is the advice I'd give her. Your men will fight more bravely if they know that you carry the Dragon Reborns heir.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "Men, Elayne thought. The young ones try to impress me with every stunt that comes into their fool heads. The old ones assume every young woman is in need of a lecture.\n\nShe turned her eyes toward the city again as Birgitte rode up and gave her a nod. The basements were filled with oil and pitch.\n\n\"Burn it,\" Elayne said loudly.\n\nBirgitte waved a hand. The Kinswomen opened their round of gateways, and men hurled lit torches through into the basements of Caemlyn. It didn't take long for the smoke rising above the city to grow darker, more ominous.\n\n\"They won't soon put that out,\" Birgitte said softly. \"Not with the dry weather we've been having. The entire city will go up like a haystack.\"\n\nThe army gathered to stare at the city, particularly the members of the Queen's Guard and the Andoran military. A few of them saluted, as one might salute the pyre of a fallen hero.\n\nElayne ground her teeth, then said, \"Birgitte, make it known among the Guards. The children I carry were fathered by the Dragon Reborn.\"\n\nBashere's smile deepened. Insufferable man! Birgitte was smiling as she went to spread the word. She was insufferable, too.\n\nThe men of Andor seemed to stand taller, prouder, as they watched their capital burn. Trollocs started pouring from the gates, driven by the fires. Elayne made sure the Trollocs saw her army, then announced, \"Northward!\" She turned Moonshadow. \"Caemlyn is dead. We take to the forests; let the Shadowspawn follow!\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Androl awoke with dirt in his mouth."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He groaned, trying to rollover, but found himself bound in someway. He spat, licked his lips and blinked crusty eyes.\n\nHe lay with Jonneth and Emarin against an earthen wall, tied by ropes. He remembered... Light! The roof had fallen in.\n\nPevara? he sent. Incredible how natural that method of communication was beginning to feel.\n\nHe was rewarded with a groggy sensation from her. The bond let him know that she was nearby, probably tied up as well. The One Power was also lost to him; he clawed at it, but ran up against a shield. His bonds were tied to some kind of hook in the ground behind him, hindering his movement.\n\nAndrol shoved panic down with some effort. He couldn't see Nalaam. Was he here? The group of them lay tied in a large chamber, and the air smelled of damp earth. They were still underground in apart of Taim's secret complex.\n\nIf the roof fell in, Androl thought, the cells were probably destroyed. That explained why he and the others were tied up, but not locked away.\n\nSomeone was sobbing.\n\nHe strained around and found Evin tied nearby. The younger man wept, shaking.\n\n\"It's all right, Evin,\" Androl whispered. \"We'll find away out of this.\"\n\nEvin glanced at him, shocked. The youth was tied in a different way, in a seated position, hands behind his back. \"Androl? Androl, I'm sorry.\"\n\nAndrol felt a twisting emotion. \"For what, Evin?\"\n\n\"They came right after the rest of you left. They wanted Emarin, I think. To Turn him. When he wasn't there, they began asking questions, demands. They broke me, Androl. I broke so easily. I'm sorry...\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "So Taim hadn't discovered the fallen guards. \"It's not your fault, Evin.\"\n\nFootsteps sounded on the ground nearby. Androl feigned unconsciousness, but someone kicked him. \"I saw you talking, pageboy,\" Mishraile said, leaning down his golden-haired head. \"I'm going to enjoy killing you for what you did to Coteren.\"\n\nAndrol opened his eyes and saw Logain sagging in the grip of Mezar and Welyn. They dragged him near and dropped him roughly to the ground. Logain stirred and groaned as they tied him up. They stood, and one spat on Androl before moving over to Emarin.\n\n\"No,\" Taim said from somewhere near. \"The youth is next. The Great Lord demands results. Logain is taking too long.\"\n\nEvin's sobs grew louder as Mezar and Welyn moved over to seize him under the arms.\n\n\"No!\" Androl said, twisting. \"No! Taim, burn you! Leave him alone! Take me!\"\n\nTaim stood nearby, hands clasped behind his back, in a sharp black uniform that resembled those of the Asha'man, but trimmed with silver. He wore no pins at his neck. He turned toward Androl, then sneered. \"Take you? I am to present to the Great Lord a man who couldn't channel enough to break a pebble? I should have culled you long ago.\"\n\nTaim followed the other two, who were dragging away the frantic Evin. Androl screamed at them, yelling until he was hoarse. They took Evin somewhere on the other side of the chamber-it was very large-and Androl could not see them because of the angle at which he was tied. Androl dropped his head back against the floor, closing his eyes. That didn't prevent him from hearing poor Evin's screams of terror."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Androl?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pevara whispered.\n\n\"Quiet.\" Mishraile's voice was followed by a thump and a grunt from Pevara.\n\nI am really starting to hate that one, Pevara sent to him.\n\nAndrol didn't reply.\n\nThey took the effort to dig us out of the collapsed room, Pevara continued. / remember some of it, before they shielded me and knocked me unconscious. It seems to have been less than a day since then. I guess Taim hasn't yet hit his quota ofDread-lords Turned to the Shadow.\n\nShe sent it, almost, with levity.\n\nBehind them, Evin's screams stopped.\n\nOh, Light! Pevara sent. Was that Evin? All wryness vanished from her tone. What's happening?\n\nThey're Turning him, Androl sent back. Strength of will has something to do with resisting. That is why Logain hasn't been Turned yet.\n\nPevara's concern was a warmth through the bond. Were all Aes Sedai like her? He'd assumed they had no emotions, but Pevara felt the full\n\nrange-although she accompanied it with an almost inhuman control over how those emotions affected her. Another result of decades of practice?\n\nHow do we escape? she sent.\n\nI'm trying to untie my bonds. My fingers are stiff.\n\nI can seethe knot. It's a hefty one, but I might be able to guide you.\n\nHe nodded, and they began, Pevara describing the turns of the knot as Androl tried to twist his fingers around them. He failed to get enough purchase on the bonds; he tried pulling his hands free and wiggling them out, but the ropes were too tight."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "By the time he accepted defeat, his fingers were numb from the lack of circulation. It's not going to work, he sent.\n\nI've been trying to push out of this shield, Pevara replied. It's possible, and I think our shields might be tied off. Tied-off shields fail.\n\nAndrol sent back agreement, though he couldn't keep from feeling frustrated. How long could Evin holdout?\n\nThe silence taunted him. Why couldn't he hear any sounds? Then he sensed something. Channeling. Could that be thirteen men? Light. If there were thirteen Myrddraal as well, the situation was dire. What would they do if they escaped? They couldn't fight so many.\n\nWhich cliff did you choose? Pevara sent him.\n\nWhat?\n\nYou said that when you were among the Sea Folk, they jumped off cliffs to prove their bravery. The higher the cliff, the braver the jumper. Which cliff did you choose?\n\nThe highest, he admitted.\n\nWhy?\n\nI figured that once you've decided to jump offa cliff, you might as well pick the highest one. Why accept the risk, if not for the greatest prize?\n\nPevara sent back approval. We will escape, Androl. Somehow.\n\nHe nodded, mostly for himself, and setback at his knot.\n\nA few moments later, Taim's cronies returned. Evin squatted down beside Androl. Behind his eyes lurked something different, something awful. He smiled. \"Well, that was certainly not as bad as I had assumed it would be, Androl.\"\n\n\"Oh, Evin...\"\n\n\"Don't worry about me,\" Evin said, resting a hand on Androl's shoulder. \"I feel great. No more fear, no more worry. We shouldn't have been fighting all of this time. We are the Black Tower. We need to work together.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "You are not my friend, Androl thought. You might have his face, but Evin... Oh, Light. Evin is dead.\n\n\"Where is Nalaam?\" Androl asked.\n\n\"Died in the cave-in, I'm afraid.\" Evin shook his head. He leaned in. \"They're planning to kill you, Androl, but I think I can convince them that you're worth Turning instead. You'll thank me, eventually.\"\n\nThe terrible thing inside of Evin's eyes smiled, patted Androl on the shoulder, then rose and began chatting with Mezar and Welyn.\n\nBehind them, Androl could barely see thirteen shadows trailing over to grab Emarin and drag him away to be Turned next. Fades, with cloaks that did not move.\n\nAndrol thought how lucky Nalaam was to be crushed in the collapse.\n\nTo Die Well\n\nLan split the head of the Myrddraal in half down to the neck. He danced Mandarb back, letting the Fade thrash as it died, its convulsions twisting the pieces of its skull from the neck. Putrid black blood poured onto the rock, which had already been bloodied a dozen times.\n\nCHAPTER\n\n\"Lord Mandragoran!\"\n\nLan wheeled toward the call. One of his men pointed back toward their camp, where a spout of bright red light was shooting into the air.\n\nNoon already? Lan thought, raising his sword and signaling for his Mal-kieri to retreat. The Kandori and Arafellin troops were swinging in, light cavalry with bows, sending wave after wave of arrows into the mass of Trollocs.\n\nThe stench was tremendous. Lan and his men rode away from the front lines, passing two Asha'man and an Aes Sedai-Coladara, who had insisted on staying on as King Paitar's advisor-channeling to set the Trolloc corpses aflame. That would make it more difficult for the next wave of Shadowspawn."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "Lan's armies had continued their brutal work, holding the Trollocs at the Gap like pitch holding back the spray of water in a leaking boat. The army fought in short rotations, an hour at a time. Bonfires and Asha'man lit the way at night, never giving the Shadowspawn the opportunity to advance.\n\nAfter two days of grueling battle, Lan knew that this tactic would eventually favor the Trollocs. Humans were killing them by the wagonload, but the Shadow had been building its forces for years. Each night, the Trollocs fed upon the dead; they didn't have to worry about mess supplies.\n\nLan kept his shoulders from sagging as he rode away from the front lines, making way for the next group of his troops, but he wanted to collapse and sleep for days. Despite the greater numbers given him by the Dragon Reborn, every man was required to take several shifts on the front lines each day. Lan always joined a few extra.\n\nFinding sleep was not easy for his troops while also caring for their equipment, gathering wood for the bonfires and bringing supplies through gateways. Ashe surveyed those leaving the front lines with him, Lan sought for what he could do to strengthen them. Nearby, faithful Bulen was sagging. Lan would need to make sure the man slept more, or-\n\nBulen slid from the saddle.\n\nLan cursed, stopping Mandarb, and leaped down. Fie dashed to Bulen's side and found the man staring blankly into the sky. Bulen had a massive wound in his side, the mail there ripped like a sail that had seen too much wind. Bulen had covered the wound by putting his coat on over his armor. Lan hadn't seen him hit, nor had he seen the man covering up the wound."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fool! Lan thought, feeling at Bulen's neck.\n\nNo pulse. Fie was gone.\n\nFool! Lan thought again, bowing his head. You wouldn't leave my side, would you? That's why you hid it. You were afraid Yd die out there while you came back for Healing.\n\nEither that, or you didn't want to demand strength from the channelers. You knew they were pushed to their limits.\n\nWith teeth clenched, Lan picked up Bulen's corpse and slung it over his shoulder. Fie hefted the body onto Bulen's horse and tied it across the saddle. Andere and Prince Kaisel-the Kandori youth and his squad of a hundred usually rode with Lan-sat nearby, watching solemnly. Conscious of their eyes, Lan put his hand on the corpse's shoulder.\n\n\"You did well, my friend,\" he said. \"Your praises will be sung for generations. May you shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand, and may the last embrace of the mother welcome you home.\" He turned to the others. \"I will not mourn! Mourning is for those who regret, and I do not regret what we do here! Bulen could not have died a better death. I do not cry for him, I cheer\\\"\n\nHe swung up into Mandarb's saddle, holding the reins of Bulen's horse, and sat tall. He would not let them see his fatigue. Or his sorrow. \"Did any of you see Bakh fall?\" he asked those riding near him. \" He had a crossbow tied to the back of his horse. He always carried that thing with him. I swore that if it ever went off by accident, I'd have the Asha'man hang him by his toes from the top of a cliff."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He died yesterday when his sword caught in a Trollocs armor. He left it and reached for his spare, but two more Trollocs pulled his horse out from underneath him. I thought he was dead then, and was trying to reach him, only to see him come up with that Light-burned crossbow of his and shoot a Trolloc right in the eye from two feet away. The bolt went clear through its head. The second Trolloc gutted him, but not before he put his boot knife in its neck.\" Lan nodded. \"I remember you, Bakh. You died well.\" They rode fora few moments, and then Prince Kaisel added, \"Ragon. He died well, too. Charged his horse straight at a group of thirty Trollocs that were coming in at us from the side. Probably saved a dozen men with that move, buying us time. He kicked one in the face as they pulled him down.\" \"Yes, Ragon was aright insane man,\" Andere said. \"I'm one of the men he saved.\" He smiled. \"He did die well. Light, but he did. Of course, the craziest thing I've seen these last few days is what Kragil did when fighting that Fade. Did any of you see it...\"\n\nBy the time they reached the camp, the men were laughing and toasting the fallen with words. Lan split off from them, and took Bulen to the Asha'man. Narishma was holding open a gateway fora supply cart. He nodded to Lan. \"Lord Mandragoran?\"\n\n\"I need to put him someplace cold,\" Lan said, dismounting. \"When this is done, and Malkier is reclaimed, we will want a proper resting place for the noble fallen. Until then, I will not have him burned or left to rot. He was the first Malkieri to return to Malkier's king.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "Narishma nodded, Arafellin bells tinkling on the ends of his braids."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He ushered a cart through the gateway, then held up a hand for the others to stop. He closed that gateway, then opened one to the top of a mountain.\n\nIcy air blew through. Lan took Bulen off his horse. Narishma moved to help, but Lan waved him away, grunting as he heaved the corpse up onto his shoulder. He stepped through into the snows, the biting wind sharp on his cheeks, as if someone had taken a knife to them.\n\nHe laid Bulen down, then knelt and gently took the hadori from Bulen's head. Lan would carry it into battle-so that Bulen could continue to fight-then return it to the body when the battle was through. An old Malkieri tradition. \"You did well, Bulen,\" Lan said softly. \"Thank you for not giving upon me.\"\n\nHe stood up, boots crunching the snow, and strode out through the gateway, hadori in hand. Narishma let the gateway close, and Lan asked for the location of the mountain-in case Narishma died in the fighting-so he could locate Bulen again.\n\nThey wouldn't be able to preserve all of the Malkieri corpses this way, but one was better than none. Lan wrapped the leather hadori about the hilt of his sword, just below the crossguard, and tied it tight. He handed Man-darb off to a groom, holding up a finger to the horse and meeting his dark, liquid eyes. \"No more biting grooms,\" he growled at the stallion.\n\nAfter that, Lan went looking for Lord Agelmar. He found the commander speaking with Tenobia outside the Saldaean section of camp. Men stood with bows nearby in lines of two hundred, watching the skies. There had already been a number of Draghkar attacks. As Lan stepped up, the ground started to shake and rumble."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "The soldiers didn't cry out. They were growing used to this. The land groaned.\n\nThe bare rock ground near Lan split. He jumped back in alarm as the shaking continued, watching tiny rents appear in the rock-hairline cracks. There was something profoundly wrong about the cracks. They were too dark, too deep. Though the area was still shaking, he stepped up, looking at the tiny cracks, trying to make them out in detail through the rumbling earthquake.\n\nThey seemed to be cracks into nothingness. They drew the light in, sucked it away. It was as if he was looking at fractures in the nature of reality itself.\n\nThe quakes subsided. The darkness within the cracks lingered fora few breaths, then faded away, the hairline fractures becoming just ordinary breaks in stone. Wary, Lan knelt down, inspecting them closely. Had he seen what he'd thought? What did it mean?\n\nChilled, he rose to his feet and continued on his way. It is not men alone who grow tired, he thought. The mother is weakening\n\nHe hastened through the Saldaean camp. Of those fighting at the Gap the Saldaeans had the most well-kept camp, run by the stern hands of the officers' wives. Lan had leftmost of the Malkieri noncombatants in Fal Dara, and the other forces had come with few others except the warriors.\n\nThat wasn't the Saldaean way. Though they normally didn't go into the Blight, the women otherwise marched with their husbands. Each one could fight with knives, and would hold their camp to the death if the need arose. They had been extremely useful herein gathering and distributing supplies and tending the wounded.\n\nTenobia was arguing tactics with Agelmar again. Lan listened as the Shienaran great captain nodded to her demands. She didn't have a bad grasp"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "of things, but she was too bold."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She wanted them to push into the Blight, and take the fight to the Trolloc spawning grounds.\n\nEventually, she noticed Lan. \"Lord Mandragoran,\" she said, eyeing him. She was a pretty enough woman, with fire in her eyes and long black hair. \"Your latest sortie was a success?\"\n\n\"More Trollocs are dead,\" Lan said.\n\n\"We fight a glorious battle,\" she said with pride.\n\n\"I lost a good friend.\"\n\nTenobia paused, then looked at his eyes, perhaps searching for emotion in them. Lan didn't give any. Bulen had died well. \"The men who fight have glory,\" Lan said to her, \"but the battle itself is not glory. It simply is. Lord Agelmar, a word.\"\n\nTenobia stepped aside and Lan drew Agelmar away. The aged general gave Lana grateful look. Tenobia watched fora moment, then stalked off with two guards following hastily at her heels.\n\nShell be off into battle herself at some point if we don't watch her, Lan thought. Her head is full of songs and stories.\n\nHadn't he just encouraged his men to tell those same stories? No. There was a difference, he could feel a difference. Teaching the men to accept that they might die and to revere the honor of the fallen... that was different from singing songs about how wonderful it was to fight on the front lines.\n\nUnfortunately, it took actual fighting to teach the difference. The Light send Tenobia wouldn't do anything too rash. Lan had seen many a young man with that look in his eyes. The solution then was to work them to exhaustion fora few weeks, drilling them to the point that they thought only of their bed, not of the'glories\" they would someday find. He doubted that would be appropriate for the Queen herself."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She has been growing more rash ever since Kalyan married Etheni-elle,\" Lord Agelmar said quietly, joining Lan as they walked the back lines, nodding to passing soldiers. \"I think that he was able to dampen her a featherweight or two, but now-without him or Bashere watching her...\" He sighed. \"Well, regardless. What is it you wished of me, Dai Shan?\"\n\n\"We fight well here,\" Lan said. \"But I'm worried about how tired the men are. Will we be able to keep holding back the Trollocs?\"\n\n\"You are right; the enemy will force its way through eventually,\" Agelmar said.\n\n\"What do we do, then?\" Lan asked.\n\n\"We will fight here,\" Agelmar said. \"And then, once we cannot hold, we will retreat to buy time.\"\n\nLan stiffened. \"Retreat?\"\n\nAgelmar nodded. \"We are hereto slow the Trollocs down. We will accomplish that by holding here fora time, then slowly pulling back across Shienar.\"\n\n\"I did not come to Tarwin's Gap to retreat, Agelmar.\"\n\n\"Dai Shan, I'm led to believe you came hereto die.\"\n\nThat was nothing but the truth. \"I will not abandon Malkier to the Shadow a second time, Agelmar. I came to the Gap-the Malkieri followed me here-to show the Dark One that we had not been beaten. To leave after we've actually been able to gain a footing...\"\n\n\"Dai Shan,\" Lord Agelmar said in a softer voice as they walked, \"I respect your decision to fight. We all do; your march here alone inspired thousands. That may not have been your purpose, but it is the purpose the Wheel wove for you. The determination of a man set upon justice is a thing not lightly ignored. However, there is a time to put yourself aside and seethe greater importance.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lan stopped, eyeing the aged general. \"Take care, Lord Agelmar. It almost sounds as if you are calling me selfish.\"\n\n\"I am, Lan,\" Agelmar said. \"And you are.\"\n\nLan did not flinch.\n\n\"You came to throw your life away for Malkier. That, in itself, is noble. However, with the Last Battle upon us, it's also stupid. We need you. Men will die because of your stubbornness.\"\n\n\"I did not ask for them to follow me. Light! I did all that I could to stop them.\"\n\n\"Duty is heavier than a mountain, Dai Shan.\"\n\nThat time, Lan did flinch. How long had it been since someone had been able to do that to him with mere words? He remembered teaching that same concept to a youth out of the Two Rivers. A sheepherder, innocent of the world, fearful of the fate laid out before him by the Pattern.\n\n\"Some men,\" Agelmar said, \" are destined to die, and they fear it. Others are destined to live, and to lead, and they find it a burden. If you wished to keep fighting here until the last man fell, you could do it, and they'd die singing the glory of the fight. Or, you could do what we both need to do. Retreat when we're forced to it, adapt, continuing delaying and stalling the Shadow as long as we can. Until the other armies can send us aid.\n\n\"We have an exceptionally mobile force. Each army sent you their finest cavalry. I've seen nine thousand Saldaean light horse perform complex maneuvers with precision. We can hurt the Shadow here, but their numbers are proving too great. Greater than I thought they would be. We will hurt more of them as we withdraw. We will find ways to punish them with every step we take backward. Yes, Lan. You made me commanding general of the field. That is my advice to you. It won't be today, or perhaps for another week, but we will need to fallback.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lan walked on in silence."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Before he could formulate a reply, he saw a blue light exploding in the air. The emergency signal from the Gap. The\n\nunits that had just rotated onto the field needed help.\n\nI will consider it, Lan thought. Pushing aside his fatigue, he dashed for the horselines where the groom would have delivered Mandarb.\n\nHe didn't need to ride on this sortie. He had just gotten off one. He decided to go anyway, and caught himself yelling for Bulen to prepare a horse, and felt a fool. Light, but Lan had grown accustomed to the man's help.\n\nAgelmar is right, Lan thought as the grooms fell over themselves, saddling Mandarb. The stallion was skittish, sensing his mood. They will follow me. Like Bulen did. Leading them to death in the name of a fallen kingdom... leading myself to the same death... how is that any different from Tenobia's attitude?\n\nBefore long, he was galloping back toward the defensive lines to find the Trollocs almost breaking through. He joined the rally, and this night, they held. Eventually, they would fail to do so. What then?\n\nThen... then he would abandon Malkier again, and do what had to be\n\ndone.\n\nEgwene's force had gathered at the southern portion of the Field of Merrilor. They had been slated to Travel to Kandor once Elayne's force had been dispatched to Caemlyn. Rand's armies had not yet entered Thakan'dar, but had instead moved to staging areas on the northern part of the Field, where supplies could be assembled more easily. He claimed the time wasn't quite right for his assault; the Light send he was making progress with the Seanchan.\n\nMoving so many people was a tremendous headache. Aes Sedai created gateways in a huge line, like the doorways along one side of a grand feast hall. Soldiers bunched up, waiting their turn to pass through. Many of the strongest channelers were not involved in this task; they would be channeling in combat soon enough, and creating gateways would only consume needed strength before the important work had begun."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The soldiers made way for the Amyrlin, of course."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With the foreguard in place and a camp established on the other side, it was time for her to cross. She had spent the morning meeting with the Hall as they went over the supply reports and terrain assessments. She was glad she had allowed the Hall to take a larger role in the war; there was a great deal of wisdom to the Sitters, many of whom had lived well over a century.\n\n\"I don't like being forced to wait this long,\" Gawyn said, riding beside her.\n\nShe eyed him.\n\n\"I trust General Bryne's battlefield assessment, as does the Hall,\" Egwene said as they rode past the Illianer Companions, each man's brilliant breastplate worked with the Nine Bees of Illian on the front. They saluted her, faces hidden behind their conical helmets, barred at the front.\n\nShe wasn't certain she liked having them in her army-they would be more loyal to Rand than to her-but Bryne had insisted on it. He said that her force, though enormous, lacked an elite group like the Companions.\n\n\"I still say we should have left sooner,\" Gawyn said as the two of them passed through the gateway to the border of Kandor.\n\n\"It has only been a few days.\"\n\n\"A few days while Kandor burns.\" She could sense his frustration. She could also feel that he loved her, fiercely. He washer husband, now. The marriage had been performed by Silviana in a simple ceremony the night before. It still felt odd to know that Egwene had authorized her own wedding. When you were the highest authority, what else could you do?\n\nAs they moved into the camp on the Kandori border, Bryne rode by, giving terse orders to scouting patrols. When he reached Egwene, he climbed out of the saddle and bowed low, kissing herring. He then remounted and continued. He was very respectful, considering that he'd essentially been bullied into leading this army. Of course, he'd made his demands and they had been met, so perhaps he'd bullied them as well. Leading the White Tower's armies had been an opportunity for him; no man liked being putout to pasture. The great captain shouldn't have found himself therein the first place."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene noted Siuan riding at Bryne's side and smiled in satisfaction. He is bound tightly to us now.\n\nEgwene surveyed the hills on the southeastern border of Kandor. Though they lacked greenery-like most places in the world now-their peaceful serenity gave no hint that the country beyond them burned. The capital, Chachin, was now little more than rubble. Before withdrawing to join the fight with the other Borderlanders, Queen Ethenielle had turned over rescue operations to Egwene and the Hall. They had done what they could, sending scouts through gateways along major roadways looking for refugees, then bringing them away to safety-if anywhere could be called safe now.\n\nThe main Trolloc army had left the burning cities and was now moving southeast toward the hills and the river that made up Kandor s border with Arafel.\n\nSilviana rode up beside Egwene, opposite Gawyn. She spared him only a glare-those two really would have to stop snapping atone another; it was growing tiresome-before kissing Egwene's ring. \"Mother.\"\n\n\"Silviana.\"\n\n\"We have received an update from Elayne Sedai.\"\n\nEgwene allowed herself a smile. Both of them, independently, had taken to calling Elayne by her White Tower title as opposed to her civil title. \"And?\"\n\n\"She suggests that we setup a location where the wounded can be sent for Healing.\"\n\n\"We'd talked about having the Yellows move from battlefield to battlefield,\" Egwene said.\n\n\"Elayne Sedai is worried about exposing the Yellows to attack,\" Silviana said. \"She wants a stationary hospital.\"\n\n\"That would be more efficient, Mother,\" Gawyn said, rubbing his chin. \"Finding the wounded after a battle is a brutal affair. I don't know what I'd think of sending sisters to comb through the dead. This war could stretch weeks, even months, if the great captains are right. Eventually, the Shadow is going to start picking off Aes Sedai on the field.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Elayne Sedai was quite... insistent,\" Silviana said. Her face was a mask, her tone steady, yet she also managed to convey severe displeasure. Silviana was proficient at that.\n\nI helped put Elayne in charge, Egwene reminded herself. Refusing her would set a bad precedent. As would obeying her. Perhaps they could remain friends through it.\n\n\"Elayne Sedai shows wisdom,\" Egwene said. \"Tell Romanda that it must be done this way. Have the entire Yellow Ajah gather for Healing, but not at the White Tower.\"\n\n\"Mother?\" Silviana asked.\n\n\"The Seanchan,\" Egwene said. She had to smother the serpent deep inside of her that writhed whenever she thought of them. \"I will not risk the Yellows being attacked while alone and exhausted from Healing. The White Tower is exposed, and is a focus for the enemy-if not the Seanchan, then the Shadow.\"\n\n\"A valid point.\" Silviana sounded reluctant. \"But where else? Caemlyn has fallen, and the Borderlands are too exposed. Tear?\"\n\n\"Hardly,\" Egwene said. That was Rand's territory, and it seemed too obvious. \"Send back to Elayne with a suggestion. Perhaps the First of May-ene will be willing to provide a suitable building, a very large one.\" Egwene tapped the side of her saddle. \" Send the Accepted and the novices with the\n\nYellows. I don't want those women on the battlefield, but their strength can be put to use in Healing.\"\n\nLinked to a Yellow, the weakest of novices could lend a trickle of strength and save lives. Many would be disappointed; they imagined slaying Trollocs. Well, this would be away for them to fight without getting underfoot, untrained in combat as they were."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene glanced over her shoulder. Movement through the gateways would not be finished anytime soon. \"Silviana, relay my words to Elayne Sedai,\" Egwene said. \"Gawyn, I have something I want to do.\"\n\nThey found Chubain supervising the setup of a command camp in a valley west of the river that formed the boundary between Kandor and Arafel. They'd press forward into this hilly country to meet the oncoming Trollocs, deploying harrying forces in the adjoining valleys, with archers atop the hills alongside defensive units. The plan would be to strike hard at Trollocs as they tried to take the hills, doing as much damage as possible. The harrying units could swipe at enemy flanks while the defenders held the hills as long as they could.\n\nThe odds were good that they would eventually be pushed out of those hills and across the border into Arafel, but on the wide plains of Arafel their cavalries could be used to better advantage. Egwene's force, like Lan's, was meant to delay and slow the Trollocs until Elayne could defeat those in the south. Ideally they would hold until reinforcements could arrive.\n\nChubain saluted and led them to a tent that had already been erected nearby. Egwene dismounted and started to enter, but Gawyn laid a hand on her arm. She sighed, nodded and let him enter first.\n\nInside, on the floor with legs folded, sat the Seanchan woman that Nynaeve had called Egeanin, although the woman insisted on being called Leilwin. Three members of the Tower Guard watched over her and her Illianer husband.\n\nLeilwin looked up as Egwene entered, then immediately rose to her knees and performed a graceful bow, forehead touching the tent floor. Her husband did as she did, though his motions seemed more reluctant. Perhaps he was merely a worse actor than she was."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Out,\" Egwene said to the three guards.\n\nThey did not argue, though their withdrawal was slow. As if she couldn't handle herself with her Warder against two people who could not channel. Men.\n\nGawyn took up position at the side of the tent, leaving her to address the two prisoners.\n\n\"Nynaeve tells me you are marginally trustworthy, Egwene said to\n\nLeilwin. \"Oh, sit up. Nobody bows that low in the White Tower, not even the lowest of servants.\"\n\nLeilwin sat up, but kept her eyes lowered. I have failed greatly in the duty assigned me, and in so doing have endangered the Pattern itself.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Egwene said. \"The bracelets. I'm aware. Would you like a chance to repay that debt?\"\n\nThe woman bowed herself, forehead to the ground again. Egwene sighed, but before she could order the woman to rise, Leilwin spoke. \"By the Light and my hope for salvation and rebirth,\" Leilwin said, \"I vow to serve you and protect you, Amyrlin, ruler of the White Tower. By the Crystal Throne and the blood of the Empress, I bind myself to you, to do as commanded in all things, and to put your life before my own. Under the Light, may it be so.\" She kissed the floor.\n\nEgwene looked at her, stunned. Only a Darkfriend would betray an oath such as that one. Of course, every Seanchan was close to being a Darkfriend.\n\nYou think I m not well protected?\"Egwene asked.\" You think that I need another servant?\"\n\n\"I think only of repaying my debt,\" Leilwin said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In her tone, Egwene sensed a stiffness, a bitterness. That rang of authenticity. This woman did not like humbling herself in this manner.\n\nEgwene folded her arms, troubled. \"What can you tell me of the Seanchan military, its arms and strength, and of the plans of the Empress?\"\n\n\"I know somethings, Amyrlin,\"Leilwin said.\" But I was a ship's captain. What I do know is of the Seanchan navy, and that will be of little use to you.\"\n\nOf course, Egwene thought. She glanced at Gawyn, who shrugged.\n\nPlease, Leilwin said softly. \"Allow me to prove myself to you somehow. I have little left tome. My name itself is no longer my own.\"\n\nFirst, Egwene said, \"you will talk of the Seanchan. I don't care if you think it's irrelevant. Anything you tell me might be helpful.\" Or, it might reveal Leilwin as a liar, which would be equally useful. \" Gawyn, fetch me a chair. I'm going to listen to what she says. After that, we'll see. .\n\nRand rifled through the pile of maps, notes and reports. He stood with his arm folded behind his back, a single lamp burning on the desk. Sheathed in glass, the flame danced as breezes eddied through the tent where he stood alone.\n\nWas the flame alive? It ate, it moved on its own. You could smother it, so in away, it breathed. What was it to be alive?\n\nCould an idea live?\n\nA world without the Dark One. A world without evil.\n\nRand turned back to the maps. What he saw impressed him. Elayne was preparing well. He had not attended the meetings planning each battle. His attention was directed toward the north. Toward Shayol Ghul. His destiny. His grave."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He hated the way these battle maps, with notes for formations and groups, reduced mens lives to scribbles on a page."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Numbers and statistics. Oh, he admitted that the clarity-the distance-was essential fora battlefield commander. He hated it nonetheless.\n\nHere before him was aflame that lived, yet here were also men who were dead. Now that he could not lead the war himself, he hoped to stay away from maps such as this one. He knew seeing these preparations would make him grieve for the soldiers he could not save.\n\nA sudden chill ran across him, the hairs on his arms standing on end-a distinct shiver halfway between excitement and terror. A woman was channeling.\n\nRand raised his head and found Elayne frozen in the tent doorway. \"Light!\" she said. \"Rand! What are you doing here? Are you trying to kill me with fright?\"\n\nHe turned, settling his fingers on the battle maps, taking her in. Nowhere was life. Flushed cheeks, golden hair with a hint of honey and rose, eyes that burned like a bonfire. Her dress of crimson showed the swell of the children she bore. Light, she was beautiful.\n\n\"Rand al'Thor?\" Elayne asked. \"Are you going to talk tome, or do you wish to ogle me further?\"\n\n\"If I can't ogle you, whom can I ogle?\" Rand asked.\n\n\"Don't grin at me like that, farmboy,\" she said. \"Sneaking into my tent? Really. What would people say?\"\n\n\"They'd say that I wanted to see you. Besides, I didn't sneak in. The guards let me in.\"\n\nShe folded her arms. \"They didn't tell me.\"\n\n\"I asked them not to.\"\n\n\"Then, for all intents and purposes, you were sneaking.\" Elayne brushed by him. She smelled wonderful. \"Honestly, as if Aviendha weren't enough...\" \"I didn't want the regular soldiers to see me,\" Rand said. \"I worried it would disturb your camp. I asked the guards not to mention that I was here.\" He stepped up to her, resting his hand on her shoulder. \"I had to see you again, before...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You saw meat Merrilor.\"\n\n\"Elayne. .\"\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" she said, turning back to him. \"I am happy to see you, and I am glad you came. I'm just trying to get into my head how you fit into all of this. How we fit into all of this.\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Rand said. \"I've never figured it out. I'm sorry.\"\n\nShe sighed, sitting down in the chair beside her desk. \"I suppose it is good to find there are somethings you can't fix with a wave of your hand.\" \"There is much I can't fix, Elayne.\" He glanced at the desk, and the maps. \"So much.\"\n\nDon't think about that.\n\nHe knelt before her, getting a cocked eyebrow until he placed his hand on her belly-hesitantly, at first. \"I didn't know,\" he said. \"Not until just recently, the night before the meeting. Twins, it is said?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"So Tam will be a grandfather,\" Rand said. \"And I will be...\"\n\nHow was a man supposed to react to this news? Was it supposed to shake him, upend him? Rand had been given his share of surprises in life. It seemed he could no longer take two steps without the world changing on him.\n\nBut this... this wasn't a surprise. He found that deep down, he'd hoped that someday he would be a father. It had happened. That gave him warmth. One thing was going right in the world, even if so many had gone wrong.\n\nChildren. His children. He closed his eyes, breathing in, enjoying the thought.\n\nHe would never know them. He would leave them fatherless before they were even born. But, then, Janduin had left Rand fatherless-and he had turned out all right. Just a few rough edges, here and there."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What will you name them?\" Rand asked.\n\n\"If there is a boy, I've been thinking of naming him Rand.\"\n\nRand let himself go still as he felt her womb. Was that motion? A kick? \"No,\" Rand said softly. \"Please do not name either child after me, Elayne. Let them live their own lives. My shadow will belong enough as it is.\" \"Very well.\"\n\nHe looked up to meet her eyes, and he found her smiling with fondness. She rested a smooth hand on his cheek. \"You will be a fine father.\"\n\n\"Elayne-\"\n\n\"Not a word of it,\" she said, raising a finger. \"No talk of death, of duty.\" \"We cannot ignore what will happen.\"\n\n\"We needn't dwell on it either,\" she said. \"I taught you so much about being a monarch, Rand. I seem to have forgotten one lesson. It is all right to plan for the worst possibilities, but you must not bask in them. You must not fixate on them. A queen must have hope before all else.\"\n\n\"I do hope,\" Rand said. \"I hope for the world, for you, for everyone who must fight. That does not change the fact that I have accepted my own death.\"\n\n\"Enough,\" she said. \"No more talk of this. Tonight, I will have a quiet dinner with the man I love.\"\n\nRand sighed, but rose, seating himself in the chair beside hers as she called to the guards at the tent flap for their meal.\n\n\"Can we at least discuss tactics?\" Rand asked. \"I am truly impressed by what you've done here. I don't think I could have done a better job.\"\n\n\"The great captains did most of it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I saw your annotations,\" Rand said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bashere and the others are wonderful generals, geniuses even, but they think only of their specific battles. Someone needs to coordinate them, and you are doing that marvelously. You have ahead for this.\"\n\n\"No, I don't,\" Elayne said. \"What I do have is a lifetime spent as the Daughter-Heir of Andor, being trained for wars that might come. Thank General Bryne and my mother for what you see in me. Did you find anything in my notes that you would change?\"\n\n\"There is more than a hundred and fifty miles between Caemlyn and Braem Wood, where you plan to ambush the Shadow,\" Rand noted. \"That's risky. What if your forces get overrun before they reach the Wood?\"\n\n\"Everything depends on them beating the Trollocs to the Wood. Our harrying forces will be using the strongest, fastest mounts available. It will be a grueling race, there's no question, and the horses will be near death by the time they reach the Wood. But we are hoping that the Trollocs will be the worse for wear by then as well, which should make our job easier.\"\n\nThey talked tactics, and evening became night. Servants arrived with dinner, broth and wild boar. Rand had wished to keep his presence in the camp quiet, but there was nothing for that now that the servants knew.\n\nHe settled himself to dine, and let himself flow into the conversation with Elayne. Which battlefield was in the most danger? Which of the great captains should she champion when they disagreed, which they often did? How would this all work with Rand's army, which still waited for the right time to attack Shayol Ghul?\n\nThe conversation reminded him of their time in Tear, stealing hidden kisses in the Stone between sessions of political training. Rand had fallen in love with her during those days. Real love. Not the admiration of a boy falling off a wall, looking at a princess-back then, he hadn't understood love anymore than a farmboy swinging a sword understood war."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Their love was born of the things they shared. With Elayne, he could speak of politics and the burden of rule. She understood. She truly did, better than anyone he knew. She knew what it was to make decisions that changed the lives of thousands. She understood what it was to be owned by the people of a nation. Rand found it remarkable that, though they had often been apart, their connection held. In fact, it felt even stronger. Now that Elayne was queen, now that they shared the children growing within her. \"You wince,\" Elayne said.\n\nRand looked up from his broth. Elayne's dinner was half-finished-he had been making her speak a great deal. She seemed through anyway, and held a warm cup of tea.\n\n\"I what?\" Rand asked.\n\n\"You wince. When I mentioned the contingents fighting for Andor, you flinched, just a little.\"\n\nIt was not surprising she had noticed-Elayne had been the one to teach him to watch for minor tells in the expressions of those with whom he spoke.\n\n\"All of these people fight under my name,\" Rand said. \"So many people I do not even know will die for me.\"\n\n\"That has ever been the burden of a ruler at war.\"\n\n\"I should be able to protect them,\" Rand said.\n\n\"If you think you can protect everyone, Rand al'Thor, you are far less wise than you pretend.\"\n\nHe looked at her, meeting her eyes. \"I don't believe I can, but their deaths weigh on me. I feel as if I should be able to do more, now that I remember. He tried to break me, and he failed.\"\n\n\"Is that what happened that day atop Dragonmount?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He hadn't spoken of it to anyone. He pulled his seat closer to hers. \"Up there, I realized that I had been thinking too much on strength. I wanted to be hard, so hard. In driving myself so, I risked losing the ability to care. That was wrong. For me to win, I must care. That, unfortunately, means I must allow myself pain at their deaths.\"\n\n\"And you remember Lews Therin now?\" she whispered. \"Everything he knew? That is not just an air you put on?\"\n\n\"I am him. I always was. I remember it now.\"\n\nElayne breathed out, eyes widening. \" What an advantage Of all the people he had told that to, only she had responded in such away. What a wonderful woman.\n\n\"I have all of this knowledge, yet it doesn't tell me what to do.\" He stood up, pacing. \"I should be able to fix it, Elayne. No more should need to die for me. This is my fight. Why must everyone else go through such suffering?\" \"You deny us the right to fight?\" she said, sitting up straight.\n\n\"No, of course not,\" Rand said. \"I could deny you nothing. I just wish that somehow... somehow I could make this all stop. Shouldn't my sacrifice be enough?\"\n\nShe stood, taking his arm. He turned to her.\n\nThen she kissed him.\n\n\"I love you,\" she said. \"You area king. But if you would try to deny the good people of Andor the right to defend themselves, the right to stand in the Last Battle...\" Her eyes flared, her cheeks flushed. Light! His comments had truly made her angry.\n\nHe never quite knew what she was going to say or do, and that excited him. Like the excitement of watching nightflowers, knowing that what was to come would be beautiful, but never knowing the exact form that beauty would take."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I said I wouldn't deny you the right to fight,\" Rand said.\n\n\"It's about more than just me, Rand. It's about everyone. Can you understand that?\"\n\n\"I suppose that I can.\"\n\n\"Good.\" Elayne settled back down and took a sip of her tea, then grimaced.\n\n\"It's gone bad?\" Rand asked.\n\n\"Yes, but I'm used to it. Still, it's almost worse than drinking nothing at all, with how spoiled everything is.\"\n\nRand walked to her and took the cup from her fingers. He held it fora moment, but did not channel. \"I brought you something. I forgot to mention it.\"\n\n\"Tea?\"\n\n\"No, this is just an aside.\" He handed the cup back to her and she took a sip.\n\nHer eyes widened. \"It's wonderful. How do you do it?\"\n\n\"I don't,\" Rand said, sitting. \"The Pattern does.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"I am taveren,\" Rand said. \" Things happen around me, unpredictable things. For the longest time, there was a balance. In one town, someone would discover a great treasure unexpectedly under the stairs. In the next I visited, people would discover that their coins were fakes, passed to them by a clever counterfeiter.\n\n\"People died in terrible ways; others were saved by a miracle of chance. Deaths and births. Marriages and divisions. I once saw a feather drift down from the sky and fall point-first into the mud so it stuck there. The next ten that fell did the same thing. It was all random. Two sides to a flipping coin.\" \"This tea is not random.\"\n\n\"Yes, it is,\" Rand said. \"But, you see, I get only one side of the coin these days. Someone else is doing the bad. The Dark One injects horrors into the world, causing death, evil, madness. But the Pattern... the Pattern is balance. So it works, through me, to provide the other side. The harder the Dark One works, the more powerful the effect around me becomes.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The growing grass,\" Elayne said. \"The splitting clouds. The food unspoiled...\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Well, some other tricks helped on occasion, but he didn't mention them. He fished in his pocket fora small pouch.\n\n\"If what you say is true,\" Elayne replied, \"then there can never be good in the world.\"\n\n\"Of course there can.\"\n\n\"Will the Pattern not balance it out?\"\n\nHe hesitated. That line of reasoning cut too close to the way he had begun thinking before Dragonmount-that he had no options, that his life was planned for him. \"So long as we care,\" Rand said, \"there can be good. The Pattern is not about emotions-it is not even about good or evil. The Dark One is a force from outside of it, influencing it by force.\"\n\nAnd Rand would end that. If he could.\n\n\"Here,\" Rand said. \"The gift I mentioned.\" He pushed the pouch toward\n\nher.\n\nShe looked at him, curious. She untied the strings, and took from it a small statue of a woman. She stood upright, with a shawl about her shoulders, though she did not look like an Aes Sedai. She had a mature face, aged and wise, with a wise look about her and a smile on her face.\n\n\"An angreal?\" Elayne asked.\n\n\"No, a Seed.\"\n\n\"A... seed?\"\n\n\"You have the Talent of creating ter'angreal,\" Rand said. \"Creating angreal requires a different process. It begins with one of these, an object created to draw your Power and instill it into something else. It takes time, and will weaken you for several months, so you should not attempt it while we are at war. But when I found it, forgotten, I thought of you. I had wondered what I could give you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, Rand, I have something for you as well.\" She hurried over to an ivory jewelry chest that rested on a camp table and took a small object from it. It was a dagger with a short, dull blade and a handle made of deerhorn wrapped in gold wire.\n\nRand glanced at the dagger quizzically. \"No offense, but that looks like a poor weapon, Elayne.\"\n\n\"It's a ter'angreal, something that maybe of use when you go to Shayol Ghul. With it, the Shadow cannot see you.\" She reached up to touch his face. He placed his hand on hers.\n\nThey stayed together long into the night.\n\nCHAPTER\n\nThe Use of Dragons\n\nPerrin rode Stayer, light cavalry from Elayne's forces following behind him: Whitecloaks, Mayeners, Ghealdanin, joined by some of the Band of the Red Hand. Only a fraction of their armies. That was the point.\n\nThey swept along diagonally toward the Trollocs camped outside of Caemlyn. The city still smoldered; Elayne's plan with the oil had driven the creatures out, for the most part, but some still held the walls above.\n\n\"Archers,\" Arganda yelled, \"loose!\" His voice would be lost to most in the roar of the charge, the snorting of horses, the gallop of hooves. Enough would hear to start shooting, and the rest knew what to do anyway.\n\nPerrin leaned low, hoping his hammer would not be needed on this sortie. They charged past the Trollocs, sweeping in front of them, launching arrows; then they turned away from the city.\n\nPerrin glanced over his shoulder as he rode, and he was rewarded with the sight of Trollocs falling. The Band followed after Perrins cavalry, getting close enough to launch arrows."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Trolloc arrows followed-thick and black, almost like spears, loosed from enormous bows."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some of Perrins riders fell, but his attack had been swift.\n\nThe Trollocs didn't break from their position outside the city walls. The riders slowed, Arganda coming up beside Perrin, watching over his shoulder.\n\n\"They still aren't charging,\" Arganda said.\n\n\"Then we'll hit them again and again,\" Perrin said. \"Until they break.\"\n\n\"Our attacks are continuing, Your Majesty,\" the messenger said, riding through a gateway made by a pair of Kinswomen to where Elayne had her camp in the Wood. \"Lord Goldeneyes sends word; they'll continue through the day, if need be.\"\n\nShe nodded, and the messenger rode back the way he had come. Braem Wood slumbered, trees bare, as if in winter. \"It takes too much work to relay information back and forth tome,\" Elayne said with dissatisfaction. \"I wish we could have made those ter'angreal work; Aviendha said that one let you see over distance, and another talk that way. But wish and want trip the feet, as Lini says. Still, if I could seethe fighting with my own eyes-\" Birgitte said nothing. Eyes forward, the golden-haired Warder gave no sign at all that she'd heard the comment.\n\n\"After all,\" Elayne said, \"I can defend myself, as I have proven on a number of occasions.\"\n\nNo response. The two horses walked softly beside one another, hooves on soft earth. The camp around them had been designed to be broken down and moved on the run. The soldiers'\"tents\" were canvas tarps set over ropes pulled tight between trees. The only travel furniture was that of her own pavilion and the battle pavilion. The Kinswomen had one group ready with gateways to move Elayne and her commanders further into the woods."
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"value": "Most of her forces waited at the ready, like a taut bow with the arrow nocked. She would not engage the Trollocs on their terms, however. By report, some of their fists still topped the city walls, and attacking directly would be a disaster, with them raining death on her from above.\n\nShe would draw them out. If that required patience, so be it. \"I've decided,\" Elayne continued to Birgitte. \"I'll just hop through a gateway to take a look at the Trolloc army myself. From a safe distance. I could-\"\n\nBirgitte reached beneath her shirt and removed the foxhead medallion she wore, one of the three imperfect copies Elayne had made. Mat had the original and a copy. Mellar had escaped with the other copy.\n\n\"You try anything like that,\" Birgitte said, eyes still forward, \"and I'll throw you over my bloody shoulder like a drunken man with a barmaid on a rowdy night and carry you back to camp. Light help me, I'll do it, Elayne.\" Elayne frowned. \"Remind me why, exactly, I gave you one of those medallions?\"\n\n\"I'm not sure,\" Birgitte said. \"It showed remarkable foresight and an actual sense of self-preservation. Completely unlike you.\"\n\n\"I hardly think that is fair, Birgitte.\"\n\n\"I know! It is extremely unfair for me to have to deal with you. I wasn't certain you'd noticed. Are all young Aes Sedai as reckless as you are, or did I just end up with the pick of this particular litter?\"\n\n\"Stop whining,\" Elayne muttered, maintaining a smile and a nod for the men who saluted as she passed. \"I'm beginning to wish I had a Tower-trained Warder. Then, at least, I wouldn't hear so much sauce.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Birgitte laughed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't think you understand Warders half as well as you think you do, Elayne.\"\n\nElayne let the matter die as they passed the Traveling ground, where Sumeko and the other Kinswomen were shuttling messengers back and forth from the battlefields. For now, Elayne's agreement with them held.\n\nIn her dress pocket, Elayne carried Egwene's-the Amyrlin Seat's-official reply regarding the Kin and what Elayne had done. Elayne could almost sense heat radiating from the letter, but it was hidden behind official language and an agreement that now wasn't the time to worry about such things.\n\nElayne would have to do more work there. Egwene would eventually seethe logic of letting the Kinswomen work in Andor, beneath Elayne's supervision. Just beyond the Traveling ground she noticed a tired-looking Shienaran accepting a waterskin from one of the Two Rivers men. The top-knotted man had an eyepatch and familiar features.\n\n\"Uno?\" Elayne asked with shock, pulling Moonshadow to a halt.\n\nFie started, nearly spilling water over himself as he drank. \"Elayne?\" he asked, wiping his brow with his sleeve. \"I'd heard that you're the flaming-the Queen now. I guess that's what should have happened, with you being the bloody Daughter-Heir. Sorry. The Daughter-Heir. Not bloody at all.\" The Shienaran man grimaced.\n\n\"You can swear all you want, Uno,\" Elayne said dryly. \"Nynaeve isn't around. What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"The Amyrlin,\" he said. \"She flaming wanted a messenger, and I was bloody chosen. Already gave Egwene's bloody report to your commanders, for all the bloody good it will do. We've setup our flaming battle positions and started scouting out Kandor, and the place is a bloody mess. You want details?\""
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"value": "Elayne smiled. \"I'll hear the report from my commanders, Uno,\" she said. \"Have a rest, and go have a flaming bath, you son of a shepherd's boil.\"\n\nUno blew a mouthful of water out at the comment. Elayne smiled. She'd heard that last curse from a soldier just the day before, and still didn't know why it was considered to be so vile. It had the proper effect.\n\n\"I... No flaming bath for me,\" Uno said. \"Er, Your Majesty. I've had my five minutes of rest. The Trollocs could attack soon up in bloody Kandor, and I won't have the others fighting without me.\" He saluted her, hand across chest, and bowed before hurrying back toward the Traveling ground.\n\n\"Pity,\" Birgitte said, \"he was a good drinking companion. I'd have liked him to stay a little while.\" Through the bond, Elayne felt a different reaction from her, as she watched Uno's backside.\n\nElayne blushed. \"There's no time for that right now. Either of those things.\"\n\n\"Just looking,\" Birgitte said innocently. \"I suppose we should go listen to the reports from the other battlefields.\"\n\n\"We should,\" Elayne said firmly.\n\nBirgitte didn't voice her annoyance, but Elayne could feel it. Birgitte hated battle planning, something Elayne found odd in a woman who had fought in thousands of battles, a hero who had saved countless lives during some of the great moments in history.\n\nThey came to the battle pavilion, one of the few full-sized tents the army carried. Inside, she found Bashere conferring with several of the commanders: Abell Cauthon, Gallenne and Trom, second-in-command of the White-cloaks. Galad himself, like Perrin, was with the harrying forces at Caemlyn. Elayne found Trom surprisingly agreeable-much more so than Galad himself."
}
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[
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"value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 18"
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"value": "Elayne smiled. \"I'll hear the report from my commanders, Uno,\" she said. \"Have a rest, and go have a flaming bath, you son of a shepherd's boil.\"\n\nUno blew a mouthful of water out at the comment. Elayne smiled. She'd heard that last curse from a soldier just the day before, and still didn't know why it was considered to be so vile. It had the proper effect.\n\n\"I... No flaming bath for me,\" Uno said. \"Er, Your Majesty. I've had my five minutes of rest. The Trollocs could attack soon up in bloody Kandor, and I won't have the others fighting without me.\" He saluted her, hand across chest, and bowed before hurrying back toward the Traveling ground.\n\n\"Pity,\" Birgitte said, \"he was a good drinking companion. I'd have liked him to stay a little while.\" Through the bond, Elayne felt a different reaction from her, as she watched Uno's backside.\n\nElayne blushed. \"There's no time for that right now. Either of those things.\"\n\n\"Just looking,\" Birgitte said innocently. \"I suppose we should go listen to the reports from the other battlefields.\"\n\n\"We should,\" Elayne said firmly.\n\nBirgitte didn't voice her annoyance, but Elayne could feel it. Birgitte hated battle planning, something Elayne found odd in a woman who had fought in thousands of battles, a hero who had saved countless lives during some of the great moments in history.\n\nThey came to the battle pavilion, one of the few full-sized tents the army carried. Inside, she found Bashere conferring with several of the commanders: Abell Cauthon, Gallenne and Trom, second-in-command of the White-cloaks. Galad himself, like Perrin, was with the harrying forces at Caemlyn. Elayne found Trom surprisingly agreeable-much more so than Galad himself."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well?\""
},
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"value": "she asked.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" Trom said, bowing. He didn't like the fact that she was Aes Sedai, but he hid it well. The others in the room saluted, though Bashere gave merely a friendly wave, then pointed at their battle maps.\n\n\"Reports from all fronts are in,\" Bashere said. \"Refugees from Kandor are flocking to the Amyrlin and her soldiers, and that includes a fair number of fighting men. House soldiers or merchant guards, for the most part. Lord Ituralde's forces still await the Lord Dragon before moving on Shayol Ghul.\" Bashere knuckled his mustache. \"Once they move into that valley, there won't be any retreat available.\"\n\n\"And the Borderlander army?\" Elayne asked.\n\n\"Holding,\" Bashere said, pointing to another map, showing Shienar. Elayne wondered, idly, if Uno wished he were fighting with the rest of his people at the Gap. \"Last messenger said they feared being overwhelmed, and were considering a controlled retreat.\"\n\nElayne frowned. \"Are things so bad there? They were supposed to hold until I could finish the Trollocs in Andor and join them. That was the plan.\" \"It was,\" Bashere agreed.\n\n\"You're going to tell me that a plan, in warfare, lasts only until the first sword is drawn,\" Elayne said. \"Or maybe until the first arrow falls?\"\n\n\"First lance is raised,\" Bashere said under his breath.\n\n\"I realize that,\" Elayne said, stabbing a finger at the map. \"But I also know that Lord Agelmar is a good enough general to hold a pack of Trollocs, especially with the Borderlander armies thereto back him up.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They are holding for now,\" Bashere said. \"But they're still being mightily pressed.\" He held up a hand to her objection. \"I know you're worried about a retreat, but I counsel that you shouldn't try to overrule Agelmar. He deserves his reputation as a great captain, and he's there, while we are faraway. He will know what to do.\"\n\nShe took a deep breath. \"Yes. You are right. Do see if Egwene can send him any troops. Meanwhile, we need to win our battle here quickly.\" Fighting on four fronts was going to drain resources quickly.\n\nElayne had not only familiar terrain to fight on, but also the best odds. If the other armies could hold steady while she obliterated the Trollocs in Andor, she could join Lan and Agelmar and turn the Gap from a stalemate into a victory. From there, she could reinforce Egwene and reclaim Kandor.\n\nElayne's army was the linchpin of the entire operation. If she didn't win in Andor, the other armies would have no eventual reinforcement. Lan and Ituralde would waste away, losing wars of attrition. Egwene might have a chance, depending on what the Shadow hurled her direction. Elayne didn't want to find out.\n\n\"We need the Trollocs to charge us,\" she said. \"Now.\"\n\nBashere nodded.\n\n\"Step up the harrying,\" Elayne said. \"Hit them with constant waves of arrows. Make it clear that if they don't charge, we're going to wear them down to nothing.\"\n\n\"And if they just retreat back into the city?\" Trom asked. \"The fires are dying down.\"\n\n\"Then, like it or not, we'll bring those dragons into start leveling Caemlyn. We cannot wait any longer.\""
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"value": "Androl struggled to stay awake. The drink they had given him... it made him drowsy. What was the purpose of that?\n\nSomething to do with channeling, Androl thought in a daze. The One Power\n\nwas lost to him, though there was no shield. What kind of drink could do that to a man?\n\nPoor Emarin lay weeping in his bonds. They had not managed to Turn him yet, but as the hours wore on, he seemed closer and closer to breaking. Androl stretched, twisting his head. He could barely make out the thirteen men Taim had been using for the process. They slumped as they sat around a table in the dim room. They were exhausted.\n\nAndrol remembered... Taim yelling the day before. He railed against the men, claiming their work went too slowly. They had expended much strength on the first men and women they'd Turned, and now they were apparently having a more difficult time.\n\nPevara slept. The tea had knocked her out. They'd given it to Androl after her, but almost as an afterthought. They seemed to forget about him much of the time. Taim had actually been angry when he'd found his minions had given the tea to Pevara. He'd wanted to Turn her next, apparently, and the process required the victim to be able to channel.\n\n\"Release me!\"\n\nAndrol twisted at the new voice. Abors and Mishraile pulled someone in through the door, a short woman with coppery skin. Toveine, one of the Aes Sedai that Logain had bonded.\n\nNearby, Logain-eyes closed, looking as if he'd been beaten by a mob of angry men-stirred.\n\n\"What are you doing!\" Toveine demanded. \"Light! I-\" She cutoff as Abors gagged her. The thick-browed man was one of those who had gone to Taim willingly, during the days before Turning had begun."
},
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"value": "Androl tried, thoughts still cloudy, to pull his hands free from the bonds."
},
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"value": "The ropes were bound more tightly. That was right. Evin had noticed the bonds and retied them.\n\nHe felt so helpless. Useless. He hated that feeling. If there was one thing Androl had dedicated his life to, it was to never being useless. Always knowing something about the situation.\n\n\"Turn her next,\" Taim's voice said.\n\nAndrol twisted, craning his neck. Taim sat at the table. He liked to be therefor the Turnings, but he wasn't watching Toveine. He fondled something in his hands. Some kind of disc...\n\nHe stood up suddenly, tucking the object into a pouch at his waist. \"The others complain about exhaustion from so much Turning. Well, if they Turn this one, she can join their ranks and lend her strength. Mishraile, you come with me. It's time.\"\n\nMishraile and several others joined Taim; they'd been standing where Androl couldn't see them.\n\nTaim stalked toward the door. \"I want that woman Turned by the time I get back,\" he said.\n\nLan galloped across the rocky ground, riding toward the Gap for what seemed like the hundredth time, though he had been fighting here less than a week.\n\nPrince Kaisel and King Easar fell in beside him, riding hard. \"What is it, Dai Shan?\" Kaisel yelled. \"Another attack? I did not seethe emergency signal!\"\n\nLan leaned down grimly in the dusk, bonfires made of carcasses and wood blazing to either side of him as he led the charge of several hundred Malkieri. Burning carcasses was difficult, but not only did they need the light; they wanted to deny the Trollocs some meals."
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"value": "Lan heard something ahead, something that horrified him. Something he had been dreading.\n\nExplosions.\n\nThe distant eruptions sounded like boulders crashing against one another. Each one made the air shake.\n\n\"Light!\" Queen Ethenielle of Kandor joined them, galloping on her white gelding. She yelled to him. \"Is that what I think it is?\"\n\nLan nodded. Enemy channelers.\n\nEthenielle called back to her retinue, yelling something he did not catch. She was a plump woman, somewhat matronly fora Borderlander. Her retinue included Lord Baldhere-her Swordbearer-and the grizzled Kalyan Ramsin, her new husband.\n\nThey approached the Gap, where warriors fought to keep the beasts contained. A group of Kandori riders near the bonfires at the front were suddenly thrown into the air.\n\n\"Lord Mandragoran!\" A figure in a black coat waved to them. Nar-ishma hurried up, his Aes Sedai accompanying him. Lan always had one channeler at the front lines, but had given them orders not to fight. He needed them fresh for emergencies.\n\nLike this one.\n\n\"Channeling?\" Lan asked, slowing Mandarb.\n\n\"Dreadlords, Dai Shan,\" Narishma said, panting. \"Maybe as many as two dozen.\"\n\n\"Twenty or more channelers,\" Agelmar said. \"They'll cut through us like a sword through a spring lamb.\"\n\nLan looked across the bitter landscape, once his homeland. A homeland he'd never known.\n\nHe would have to abandon Malkier. Admitting it felt like a knife twisting inside him, but he would do it. \"You have your retreat, Lord Agelmar,\" Lan said. \"Narishma, can you channelers do anything?\""
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"value": "\"We can try to cut their weaves from the air if we ride up close enough,\" Narishma said. \"But that will be hard, perhaps impossible, with them using just ribbons of Fire and Earth. Besides, with so many on their side... well, they'll target us. I fear we would be cut down-\"\n\nA nearby blast rocked the earth, and Mandarb reared, nearly throwing Lan to the ground. Lan fought the horse, nearly blind from the flash of light. \"Dai Shan!\" Narishma's voice.\n\nLan blinked tears from his eyes.\n\n\"Go to Queen Elayne!\" Lan bellowed. \"Bring back channelers to cover our retreat. We'll be cut to ribbons without them. Go, man!\"\n\nAgelmar was yelling the retreat, bringing forward archers to target the channelers and drive them beneath cover. Lan unsheathed his sword, galloping to bring the horsemen back.\n\nLight protect us, Lan thought, yelling himself ragged and salvaging what he could of his cavalry. The Gap was lost.\n\nElayne waited nervously just inside Braem Wood.\n\nIt was an old forest, the type that seemed to have a soul of its own. The ancient trees were its gnarled fingers, reaching out of the earth to feel the wind.\n\nIt was difficult not to feel tiny in a wood like Braem. Though many of the trees were bare, Elayne could feel a thousand eyes watching her from the depths of the forest. She found herself thinking of the stories told to her as a child, stories of the Wood being full of brigands-some goodly, others with hearts as twisted as those of Darkfriends.\n\nIn fact... Elayne thought, remembering one of the stories. She turned to Birgitte. \"Didn't you once lead a band of thieves out of this forest?\" Birgitte grimaced. \"I was hoping you hadn't heard that one.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"You robbed the Queen of Aldeshar!\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elayne said.\n\n\"I was very polite about it,\" Birgitte said. \"She wasn't a good queen. Many claimed she wasn't the rightful one.\"\n\n\"It's the principle!\"\n\n\"That's exactly why I did it.\" Birgitte frowned. \"At least... I think it was...\"\n\nElayne didn't push the topic any farther. Birgitte always grew anxious when reminded that her memories of past lives were fading. At times, she had no recollection of her past lives at all; at other times, certain incidents would come flooding back to her, only to disappear the next moment.\n\nElayne led the rearguard, which would-in theory-do the bulk of the damage to the enemy.\n\nDry leaves crunched as a winded messenger arrived from the Traveling ground. \"I've come from Caemlyn, Your Majesty,\" the woman said with a bobbing bow from her mount. \"Lord Aybara has successfully engaged the Trollocs. They are on their way.\"\n\n\"Light, they took the bait,\" Elayne said. \"Now we make our preparations. Go get some rest; you'll be needing all your strength soon enough.\" The messenger nodded, galloping away. Elayne relayed the latest news to Talmanes, the Aiel and Tam al'Thor.\n\nAs Elayne heard something in the forest she raised a hand, stopping a Guards-woman's report. Moonshadow danced forward, anxious, past the men who crouched in the underbrush around Elayne. No one spoke. The soldiers barely seemed to be drawing breath.\n\nElayne embraced the Source. Power flooded her, and with it the sweetness of a world expanded. The dying wood seemed more colorful within the embrace of saidar Yes. There was something climbing over the hills in the near distance. Her soldiers, thousands of them, whipping at horses past the point of exhaustion, were fast approaching the Wood. Elayne raised her spyglass to make out the twisting mass of Trollocs chasing behind like black waves flooding onto an already shadowed land."
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"value": "\"Finally!\" Elayne exclaimed. \"Archers, to the front!\"\n\nThe Two Rivers men scrambled out of the woods before her, forming up just inside the treeline. They were one of the smallest forces in her army, but if reports on their prowess weren't exaggerations, they'd be as useful as an ordinary force of archers three times their size.\n\nA few of the younger men began nocking arrows to bows.\n\n\"Hold!\" Elayne yelled. \"Those are our men coming toward you.\"\n\nTam and his leaders repeated the order. The men lowered their bows nervously.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" Tam said, stepping up to her horse. \"The lads can hit them at this range.\"\n\n\"Our soldiers are still too close,\" Elayne said. \"We need to wait for them to break to the sides.\"\n\n\"Pardon, my Lady,\" Tam said. \"But no Two Rivers man would miss a shot like this. Those riders are safe, and the Trollocs have bows of their own.\" He was right on that last count. Some of the Trollocs were pausing in their pursuit long enough to draw their massive blackwood bows. Perrins men were riding with their backs exposed, and more than a few had dark-fletched arrows protruding from their limbs or their horses.\n\n\"Loose,\" Elayne said. \"Archers, loose!\" Birgitte relayed the orders as she rode down the line. Tam barked orders to those nearby.\n\nElayne lowered the spyglass as a breeze blew through the forest, crackling dried leaves, rattling skeletal branches. The Two Rivers men drew. Light! Could they really shoot that far and still be accurate? The Trollocs were hundreds of paces away."
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"value": "Arrows flew high, like hawks breaking from their roosts. She'd heard Rand brag about his bow, and she'd seen a Two Rivers longbow used on occasion. But this... so many arrows climbing into the air with incredible precision...\n\nThe arrows arced and dropped, not a one falling too short. They rained onto the Trolloc ranks, especially on the Trolloc archers. A few straggling Trolloc arrows returned, but the Two Rivers men had handily broken up their lines.\n\n\"That's some fine archery,\" Birgitte said, riding backup. \"Fine indeed...\" The Two Rivers men loosed more volleys in quick succession as Perrin's riders entered the forest.\n\n\"Crossbowmen!\" Elayne ordered, drawing her sword and raising it high. \"Forward the Legion of the Dragon!\"\n\nThe Two Rivers men fell back into the trees and the crossbowmen came out. She had two full banners of them from the Legion of the Dragon, and Bashere had drilled them well. They formed three ranks, one standing at a time to loose while the others reloaded while kneeling. The death they sent at the Trollocs hit like a crashing wave, driving a tremble through the advancing army, thousands falling dead.\n\nElayne leveled her sword at the Trollocs. The Two Rivers men had climbed the branches of the first line of trees and were loosing arrows from them. The men weren't nearly as accurate from the precarious perches, but they didn't need to be. The Trollocs faced death from the front and from above, and the creatures began to stumble over their dead.\n\nCome on... Elayne thought.\n\nThe Trollocs advanced, forcing their way toward the archers. A large contingent of Trollocs broke off from the advance and headed to the east. The roadway that bordered Braem Wood was that way, and it would make sense for the Trollocs to seize it, then push along it to surround Elayne's forces. Or so the Fades would think."
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"value": "\"Fallback into the Wood!\" Elayne said, waving the sword. \"Hurry!\"\n\nThe crossbowmen each loosed one more bolt, then melted into the forest, pushing through the underbrush. The Two Rivers men dropped to the ground, then moved carefully through the trees. Elayne turned and rode in at a cautious trot. A short distance into the forest, she reached a banner of Alliandre's Ghealdanin standing in ranks with pikes and halberds.\n\n\"Be sure to fallback as soon as they hit,\" Elayne yelled to them. \"We want to draw them deeper!\" Deeper into the forest, where the siswat'aman awaited their arrival.\n\nThe soldiers nodded. Elayne passed Alliandre herself, sitting her horse with a small guard surrounding her. The dark-haired queen did a horseback curtsy to Elayne. Her men had wanted their queen to join Berelain at May-ene's hospital, but Alliandre had refused. Perhaps seeing Elayne lead her troops directly had spurred the woman's decision.\n\nElayne left them behind as the first Trollocs hit the Wood, grunting and yelling. They'd have a difficult time fighting in the forest. The humans could use the forest cover far more effectively, ambushing the huge Trollocs barreling through the woods, skewering and hamstringing them from behind. Mobile forces of bowmen and crossbowmen could shoot from cover-if they did it right, the Trollocs wouldn't even know which direction the arrows were coming from.\n\nAs Elayne led her Queen's Guard toward the roadway, she heard distant explosions and screams from Trollocs. The slingmen were tossing Aludra's explosive roarsticks at the Trollocs through the trees. Flashes of light reflected off dim tree trunks."
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"value": "Elayne reached the roadway just in time to seethe Trollocs, led by several Myrddraal in deep black cloaks, come pouring onto it. They could quickly flank Elayne's force-but the Band of the Red Hand had already setup the dragons on the road. Talmanes stood with hands clasped behind his back atop a pile of boxes, overlooking his force. The banner of the Red Hand flapped behind him, a bloody palm stamped on afield of red-fringed white, with Aludra yelling out measurements, aiming instructions and the occasional curse at dragoners making mistakes or moving too slowly.\n\nArrayed in front of Talmanes were the dragons, nearly a hundred of them, strung across the broad roadway in four ranks, spilling out into the fields around the roadway here. Elayne was too faraway to hear him give the order to fire. That was perhaps a good thing, for the thunder that followed shook her as if Dragonmount itself had decided to erupt. Moon-shadow bucked, neighing, and Elayne had to fight to keep the animal from tossing heron her backside. In the end, she plugged the horse's ears with a weave of Air as the dragoners rolled their weapons to the side and let the second rank open fire.\n\nElayne plugged her own ears as she calmed Moonshadow. Birgitte continued fighting her own terrified mount, eventually leaping free, but Elayne paid little attention. She peered through the smoke that choked the roadway. The third line of dragons was rolling up to fire.\n\nDespite having her ears plugged, she could feel the blast jolt the ground, shake the trees. The fourth round followed, rattling her to the bones. Elayne breathed in and out, stilling her heart, waiting for the smoke to clear."
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "First, she made out Talmanes, standing tall. The first line of dragons had rolled back into place, reloaded. The other three ranks were hastily doing their own reloads, slipping powder and the large metal spheres into place.\n\nA strong breeze from the west cleared the smoke enough for her to see... Elayne gasped softly.\n\nThousands of Trollocs lay in smoldering pieces, many blown off the road completely. Arms, legs, strands of coarse hair, pieces lay scattered amid holes in the ground fully two paces wide. Where there had once been many thousands of Trollocs, only blood, broken bones and smoke remained. Many of the trees had been shattered into splintered trunks. Of the Myrddraal that had been at the front, there was no sign at all.\n\nThe dragoners lowered their flame-sticks, not firing their reloaded rounds. A few surviving Trollocs near the back scrambled away into the forest.\n\nElayne looked at Birgitte and grinned. The Warder looked on, solemn, while several Guardswomen ran to chase down her horse.\n\n\"Well?\" Elayne asked, unstopping her ears.\n\n\"I think...\" Birgitte said. \"Those things are messy. And imprecise. And bloody effective.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Elayne said proudly.\n\nBirgitte shook her head. Fler horse was returned to her, and she remounted. \"I used to think that a man and his bow were the most dangerous combination this land would ever know, Elayne. Now-as if it weren't bad enough that men channel openly and the Seanchan use channelers in combat-we have those things. I don't like the way this is going. If any boy with a tube of metal can destroy an entire army. .\""
},
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"value": "\"Don't you see?\" Elayne said. \"There won't be war anymore. We win this, and there will be peace, as Rand intends. Nobody but Trollocs would go into battle, knowing they face weapons like these!\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Birgitte said. She shook her head. \"Maybe I have less faith in the wisdom of people than you do.\"\n\nElayne sniffed, raising her sword to Talmanes, who drew his and raised it back. The first step in destroying this Trolloc army had been taken.\n\nCHAPTER"
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"value": "Just Another Sell-sword\n\nI realize there have been... disagreements between us in the past'Adelorna Bastine said, riding beside Egwene as they passed through camp. Adelorna was a slim, regal woman; her tilted eyes and dark hair bespoke her Saldaean heritage.\" I would not have you consider us enemies.\"\n\n\"I have not,\" Egwene said carefully, \"and do not.\" She did not ask what Adelorna meant by using the word'us.\" She was Green, and Egwene had suspected fora time that she was the Captain-General, the name the Greens gave to the head of their Ajah.\n\n\"That is well,\" Adelorna said. \"Some within the Ajah have acted in foolishness. They have been... informed of their mistakes. You will find no further resistance from those who should have loved you best, Mother. Whatever has passed, let it be buried.\"\n\n\"Let it be buried,\" Egwene agreed, amused. Now, she thought. After all of this, the Greens try to claim me?\n\nWell, she would use them. She had been worried that her relationship with them was beyond repair. Choosing Silviana as her Keeper had made many determine to treat her as an enemy. Egwene had heard whispers that many thought she would have chosen the Red as her Ajah, despite the fact that she not only had a Warder, but had married him.\n\n\"If I may ask,\" Egwene said. \"Is there a particular incident which has brought about this... bridge across our difficulties?\"\n\n\"Some are willfully ignorant of what you did during the Seanchan invasion, Mother,\" Adelorna said. \"You proved to have the spirit of a warrior. Of a general. This is something the Green Ajah must not ignore. Indeed, we must embrace it as an example. So it has been decided, and so those who lead the Ajah have spoken.\" Adelorna met Egwene's eyes, then bowed her head."
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"value": "The implication was obvious. Adelorna was the head of the Green Ajah. To speak it outright would not be appropriate, but to give Egwene this knowledge was to give a measure of trust and respect.\n\nIf you had truly been raised from us, the action said, you would have known who led us. You would have known our secrets. I give them to you. There was also gratitude to the motion. Egwene had saved Adelornas life during the Seanchan assault of the White Tower.\n\nThe Amyrlin was of no Ajah-and Egwene actually expressed this virtue more than any before her, for she never had belonged to an Ajah. Still, this gesture was moving. She rested her hand on Adelornas arm in thanks, then gave her leave to depart.\n\nGawyn, Silviana and Leilwin rode off to the side, where Egwene had sent them after Adelorna asked fora private word. That Seanchan... Egwene vacillated between keeping her close to watch her, and sending her far, faraway.\n\nLeilwin's information about the Seanchan had been useful. So far as she could determine, Leilwin had told her the exact truth. For now, Egwene kept her close-if only because she frequently thought of more questions about the Seanchan. Leilwin acted more like a bodyguard than a prisoner. As if Egwene would trust her safety to one of the Seanchan. She shook her head, riding among the gathered tents and campfires of the army. Most were empty, as Bryne had the men forming battle lines. He expected the Trolloc approach within the hour.\n\nEgwene found Bryne calmly organizing his maps and papers in a tent near the center of the camp. Yukiri was there, arms folded. Egwene dismounted and went in."
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"value": "Bryne looked up sharply. \"Mother!\" he exclaimed, causing her to freeze.\n\nShe looked down. There was a hole in the floor of the tent, and she had nearly stepped into it.\n\nIt was a gateway. The other side appeared to open into the air itself, looking down on the Trolloc army, which was crossing the hills. The recent week had involved many skirmishes, with Egwene's archers and riders slaughtering Trollocs who marched, in force, toward the hills and the border into Arafel.\n\nEgwene peered through this gateway in the floor. It was high up, well outside of bow range, but looking down through it at the Trollocs made her dizzy.\n\n\"I'm not sure if this is brilliant,\" she said to Bryne, \"or incredibly foolhardy.\"\n\nBryne smiled, turning back to his maps. \"Winning wars is about information, Mother. If I can see exactly what they are doing-where they are trying to envelop us and how they are bringing in reserves-I can prepare. This is better than a battle tower. I should have thought of it ages ago.\" \"The Shadow has Dreadlords who can channel, General,\" Egwene said. \"Peeking through this gateway could get you burned to a crisp. That's not to mention Draghkar. If a flock of them tried to fly through this-\"\n\n\"Draghkar are Shadowspawn,\" Bryne said. \"I've been told that they'd die passing through the gateway.\"\n\n\"I guess that's true,\" Egwene said, \"but you'd have a flock of dead Draghkar inhere. Regardless, channelers can still attack through it.\"\n\n\"I will take that chance. The advantage offered is incredible.\""
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"value": "\"I'd still rather you use scouts to look through the gateway,\" Egwene said, \"not your own eyes. You area resource. One of our most valuable. Risks are unavoidable, but please take care to minimize them.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mother,\" he said.\n\nShe inspected the weaves, then eyed Yukiri.\n\n\"I volunteered, Mother,\" Yukiri said before Egwene could ask how a Sitter ended up doing simple gateway duty. \"He sent to us, asking if forming a gateway like this-horizontal, instead of vertical-was possible. I thought it an interesting puzzle.\"\n\nShe was not surprised he had sent to the Grays. There was a growing sentiment among them that, just as the Yellows specialized in Healing weaves and the Greens specialized in Battle weaves, the Grays should take particular interest in weaves for Traveling. They seemed to consider travel part of their calling as mediators and ambassadors.\n\n\"Can you show me our own lines?\" Egwene asked.\n\n\"Certainly, Mother,\" Yukiri said, closing the gateway. She opened another, letting Egwene look down on the battle lines of her army as they formed up in defensive positions on the hills.\n\nThis was more efficient than maps. No map could completely convey the lay of a land, the way that troops moved. Egwene felt as if she were looking at an exact replica of the landscape in miniature.\n\nVertigo hither suddenly. She was standing at the edge of a drop of hundreds of feet. Her mind reeled, and she stepped back, taking a deep breath.\n\n\"You need to put a rope up around this thing,\" Egwene said. \"Someone could step right off.\" Or pitch headfirst while staring down..."
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"value": "Bryne grunted. \"I sent Siuan for something like that.\" He hesitated. \"She didn't much like being sent, though, so she might comeback with something completely useless.\"\n\n\"I keep wondering,\" Yukiri said. \"Shouldn't there be away to create a gateway like this, but make it so it can only let light through? Like a window. You could stand on it and look down, without fearing that you could slip through. With the right weaves, you might be able to make it invisible from the other side...\"\n\nStand on it? Light. You'd have to be mad.\n\n\"Lord Bryne,\" Egwene said, \"your battle lines seem very solid.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Mother.\"\n\n\"They are also lacking.\"\n\nBryne raised his head. Other men might have risen to the challenge, but he did not. Perhaps it was all of that practice in dealing with Morgase. \"How so?\"\n\n\"You form up the troops as usual,\" Egwene said. \"Archers at the front and on the hills to slow the enemy advance, heavy cavalry to charge and hit, then withdraw. Pikes to hold the line, light cavalry to protect our flanks and keep us from being surrounded.\"\n\n\"The soundest battle strategies are often those that are time-tested,\" Bryne said. \"We may have a large force, with all of those Dragonsworn, but we're still outnumbered. We can't be more aggressive than I've been here.\" \"Yes, you can be,\" Egwene said calmly. She met his eyes. \"This is unlike any battle you've ever fought, and your army is not like any you've ever led, General. You have a major advantage that you are not taking into account.\" \"You mean the Aes Sedai?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bloody right I do, she thought. Light, she'd been spending too much time around Elayne.\n\n\"I did account for you, Mother,\" Bryne said. \"I had planned for the Aes Sedai to be a reserve force to aid companies in disengaging so we can rotate in fresh troops.\"\n\n\"Pardon, Lord Bryne,\" Egwene said. \"Your plans are wise, and certainly some of the Aes Sedai should be used that way. However, the White Tower did not prepare and train for thousands of years to sit out the Last Battle as a reserve force.\"\n\nBryne nodded, slipping anew set of documents out from underneath his pile. \"I did consider other more... dynamic possibilities, but I did not want to overstep my authority.\" He handed her the documents.\n\nEgwene scanned them, raising an eyebrow. Then she smiled.\n\nMat had not remembered so many Tinkers around Ebou Dar. Brilliantly colored wagons grew like vibrant mushrooms on an otherwise dun field. There were enough of them to make a bloody city. A city of Tinkers? That would be like... like a city of Aiel. It was just wrong.\n\nMat trotted Pips along the roadway. Of course, there was an Aiel city. Maybe there would be a Tinker city someday, too. They would buy up all of the colored dye, and everyone else in the world would have to wear brown. There would be no fighting in the city, so it would be downright boring, but there also would not be a single bloody pot with a hole in the bottom for thirty leagues!\n\nMat smiled, patting Pips. He had covered over his ashandarei as best he could to make it look like a walking pole strapped to the side of the horse. His hat lay inside the pack he had hung from the saddlebags, along with all of his nice coats. He had ripped the lace off the one he wore. It was a shame, but he did not want to be recognized."
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"value": "He wore a crude bandage wrapped around the side of his head, covering his missing eye. Ashe approached the Dal Eira gate, he fell into line behind the others awaiting permission to enter. He should look just like another wounded sell-sword riding into the city, seeking refuge or perhaps work.\n\nHe made certain to slump in the saddle. Keep your head down: good advice on the battlefield and when entering a city where people knew you. He could not be Matrim Cauthon here. Matrim Cauthon had left the queen of this city tied up to be murdered. Many would suspect him of the murder. Light, he would have suspected himself. Beslan would hate him now, and there was no telling how Tuon would feel about him, now that they had had sometime apart.\n\nYes, best to keep his head down and stay quiet. He would feel the place out. If, that was, he ever reached the front of this bloody line. Whoever heard of a line to enter a city?\n\nEventually, he reached the gate. The bored soldier there had a face like an old shovel-it was half-covered in dirt and would be better off locked in ashed somewhere. He looked Mat up and down.\n\n\"You have sworn the oaths, traveler?\" the guard asked in a lazy Seanchan\n\ndrawl. On the other side of the gate, a different soldier waved over the next person inline.\n\n\"Yes, I have indeed,\" Mat said. \"The oaths to the great Seanchan Empire, and the Empress herself, may she live forever. I'm just a poor, traveling sell-sword, once attendant to House Haak, a noble family in Murandy. I lost my eye to some bandits in the Tween Forest two years back while protecting a young child I discovered in the woods. I raised her as my own, but-\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "The soldier waved him on."
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"value": "The fellow did not look as if he had been listening. Mat considered staying putout of principle. Why would the soldiers force people to wait in such along line and give them time to think of a cover story, only to not hear it out? That could offend a man. Not Matrim Cauthon, who was always lighthearted and never offended. But someone else, surely.\n\nHe rode on, containing his annoyance. Now, he just needed to make his way to the right tavern. Pity Setalle's place was not an option any longer. That had-\n\nMat stiffened in the saddle, though Pips continued his leisurely pace forward. Mat had just taken a moment to look at the other guard at the gate. It was Petra, the strongman from Valan Luca's menagerie!\n\nMat looked the other way and slumped again in his saddle, then shot another glance over his shoulder. That was Petra, all right. There was no mistaking those log arms and that tree-stump neck. Petra was not a tall man, but he was so wide, an entire army could have taken shade in his shadow. What was he doing back in Ebou Dar? Why was he wearing a Seanchan uniform? Mat almost went over to talk to him, as they had always been amiable, but that Seanchan uniform made him reconsider.\n\nWell, at least his luck was with him. If he had been sent to Petra instead of the guard he had ended up talking to, he would have been recognized for sure. Mat breathed out, then climbed down to lead Pips. The city was crowded, and he did not want the horse pushing someone over. Besides, Pips was laden down enough to look like a packhorse-if the looker knew nothing of horses-and walking might make Mat less memorable."
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"value": "Perhaps he should have started his search fora tavern in the Rahad. Rumors were always easy to find in the Rahad, as was a game of dice. It was also the easiest place to find a knife in your gut, and that was saying something in Ebou Dar. In the Rahad people were as likely to takeout their knives and begin killing as they were to say hello in the morning.\n\nHe did not go into the Rahad. The place looked different, now. There were soldiers camped outside it. Generations of successive rulers in Ebou\n\nDar had allowed the Rahad to fester unchecked, but the Seanchan were not so inclined.\n\nMat wished them luck. The Rahad had fought off every invasion so far. Light. Rand should have just hidden there, instead of going up to fight the Last Battle. The Trollocs and Darkfriends would have come for him, and the Rahad would have left them all unconscious in an alley, their pockets turned inside out and their shoes sold for soup money. Mat caught a glimpse of Rand shaving, but he squashed the image.\n\nMat shouldered his way over a crowded canal bridge, keeping a close eye on his saddlebags, but so far, not a single cutpurse had tried for them. With a Seanchan patrol on every other corner, he could see why. Ashe passed a man yelling out the days news, with hints that he had good gossip fora little coin, Mat found himself smiling. He was surprised at how familiar, even comfortable, this city felt. He had liked it here. Though he could vaguely remember grumbling about wanting to be away-probably just after the wall fell on him, as Matrim Cauthon was not often one for grumbling-he now realized that his time in Ebou Dar had been among the best of his life. Plenty of cards and dice in the city."
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"value": "Tylin. Bloody ashes, but that had been a fun game. She had had the better of him time and again. Light send him plenty of women who could do that, though not in rapid succession, and always when he knew how to find the backdoor. Tuon was one. Come to think of it, he would probably never need another. She was enough of a handful for any man. Mat smiled, patting Pips on the neck. The horse blew down Mat's neck in return.\n\nStrangely, this place felt more like home to him than the Two Rivers did. Yes, the Ebou Dari were prickly, but all peoples had their quirks. In fact, as Mat thought about it, he had never meta people who were not prickly about one thing or another. The Borderlanders were baffling, and so were the Aiel-that went without saying. The Cairhienin and their strange games, the Tairens and their ridiculous hierarchies, the Seanchan and their... Seanchan-ness.\n\nThat was the truth of it. Everyone outside the Two Rivers, and to a lesser extent Andor, was bloody insane. A man just had to be ready for that.\n\nHe strolled along, careful to be polite, lest he find a knife in his gut. The air smelled of a hundred sweetmeats, the chattering crowd a low roar in his ears. The Ebou Dari still wore their colorful outfits-maybe that was why the Tinkers had come here, drawn to the bright colors like soldiers drawn to dinner-anyway, the Ebou Dari women wore dresses with tight laced tops that showed plenty of bosom, not that Mat looked. Their skirts had colorful petticoats underneath and they pinned up the side or front to show them off. That never had made sense to him. Why put the colorful parts underneath? And if you did, why take such pains to cover them over, then go around with the outside pinned up?"
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"value": "The men wore long vests that were equally colorful, perhaps to hide the bloodstains when they were stabbed. No point in throwing away a good vest just because the fellow wearing it was murdered for inquiring after the weather. Though... as Mat walked along, he found fewer duels than he had expected. They never had been as common in this part of the city as in the Rahad, but some days, he had hardly been able to take two steps without passing a pair of men with knives out. This day, he saw not a single one.\n\nSome of the Ebou Dari-you could often tell them by their olive skin-were parading around in Seanchan dress. Everyone was very polite. As polite as a six-year-old boy who had just heard that you had afresh apple pie back in the kitchen.\n\nThe city was the same, but different. The feel was off a shade or two. And it was not just that there were no Sea Folk ships in the harbor any longer. It was the Seanchan, obviously. They'd made rules since he'd left. What kind?\n\nMat took Pips to a stable that seemed reputable enough. A quick glance at their stock told him that; they were caring well for the animals, and many were very fine. It was best to trust a stable with fine horses, though it cost you a little more.\n\nHe left Pips, took his bundle, and used the still-wrapped ashandarei as a walking staff. Choosing the right tavern was as tough as choosing a good wine. You wanted one that was old, but not broken down. Clean, but not too clean-a spotless tavern was one that never saw any real use. Mat could not stand the types of places where people sat around quietly and drank tea, coming there primarily to be seen."
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"value": "No, a good tavern was worn and used, like good boots. It was also sturdy, again like good boots. So long as the ale did not taste like good boots, you would have a winner. The best places for information were over in the Rahad, but his clothing was too nice to visit, and he did not want to run into whatever the Seanchan were doing there.\n\nHe stuck his head into an inn named The Winter Blossom, and immediately turned around and stalked away. Deathwatch Guards in uniform. He did not want to take any slight chance of running into Furyk Karede. The next inn was too well lit, and the next too dark. After about an hour of hunting-and not a duel to be seen-he began to despair of ever finding the right place. Then he heard dice tumbling in a cup.\n\nAt first, he jumped, thinking that it was those blasted dice in his head. Fortunately, it was just ordinary dice. Blessed, wonderful dice. The sound was gone in a moment, carried on the wind through the throng of people in the streets. Hand on his coin purse, pack over his shoulder, he pushed through the crowd, muttering a few apologies. Ina nearby alleyway, he saw a sign hanging from a wall.\n\nHe stepped up to it, reading the words'The Yearly Brawl\" in copper on its face. It had a picture of clapping people, and the sounds of dice mixed with the smells of wine and ale. Mat stepped inside. Around-faced Seanchan stood just inside the door, leaning casually against the wall, a sword on his belt. He gave Mat a distrustful stare. Well, Mat had never meta shoulderthumper who did not give that look to every man who entered. Mat reached up to tip his hat to the man, but of course he was not wearing it. Bloody ashes. He felt naked without it, sometimes."
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"value": "\"Jame!\" a woman called from beside the bar. \"You aren't glaring at customers again, are you?\"\n\n\"Only the ones that deserve it, Kathana,\" the man called back with a Seanchan slur. \"I'm sure this one does.\"\n\n\"I'm just a humble traveler,\" Mat said, \"looking for some dicing and some wine. Nothing more. Certainly not trouble.\"\n\n\"And that's why you're carrying a polearm?\" Jame asked. \"Wrapped up like that?\"\n\n\"Oh, stop it,\" the woman, Kathana, said. She had crossed the common room and took Mat by the sleeve of his coat, dragging him toward the bar. She was a short thing, dark-haired and fair-skinned. She was not that much older than he was, but she had an unmistakable motherly air. \"Don't mind him. Just don't make trouble, and he won't be forced to stab you, kill you, or anything in between.\"\n\nShe plunked Mat down on a bar stool and started busying herself behind the bar. The common room was dim, but in a friendly way. People diced atone side, the good kind of dicing. The kind that had people laughing or clapping their friends on the back at a good-natured loss. No haunted eyes of men gambling their last coin, here.\n\n\"You need food,\" Kathana declared. \"You have the look of a man who hasn't eaten anything hearty in a week. How'd you lose that eye?\"\n\n\"I was a lord's guard in Murandy,\" Mat said. \"Lost it in an ambush.\" \"That's a great lie,\" Kathana said, slapping a plate down in front of him, full of slices of pork and gravy. \"Better than most. You said it really straight, too. I almost believe you. Jame, you want food?\""
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"value": "\"I have to guard the door!\" he called back.\n\n\"Light, man. You expect someone to walk off with it? Get over here.\" Jame grumbled but made his way over to the bar beside Mat, settling\n\ndown on a stool. Kathana put a mug of ale down, and he took it up to his lips, staring straight ahead. Tm watching you,\" he muttered to Mat.\n\nMat was not certain this was the right inn for him, but he also was not certain he would be able to escape with his head unless he ate the woman's food as instructed. He took a taste; it was pretty good. She had moved over and was wagging a finger while lecturing a man atone of the tables. She seemed the type who would lecture a tree for growing in the wrong spot.\n\nThis woman, Mat thought, must never be allowed to enter the same room as Nynaeve. At least not when I'm within shouting distance.\n\nKathana came bustling back. She wore a marriage knife at her neck, though Mat did not stare for more than a few seconds on account of him being a married man. She had her skirt pinned upon the side after the fashion of Ebou Dari commoners. As she came back to the bar and readied a plate of food for Jame, Mat noticed him watching her fondly, and made a guess. \"You two been married long?\" Mat asked.\n\nJame eyed him. \"No,\" he finally said. \"Haven't been on this side of the ocean for long.\"\n\n\"I suppose that would make sense,\" Mat said, taking a drink of the ale she set before him. It was not bad, considering how awful most things tasted these days. This was only a little awful.\n\nKathana walked over to the dicing men and demanded they eat more food, as they were looking pale. It was a wonder this Jame fellow did not weigh as much as two horses. She did talk some, though, so perhaps he could wiggle the information he needed out of her."
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"value": "\"There don't seem to be as many duels as there used to be,\" Mat said to her as she passed.\n\nThats because of a Seanchan rule,\"Kathana said,\" from the new Empress, may she live forever. She didn't forbid duels entirely, and a bloody good thing she didn't. The Ebou Dari won't riot at something as unimportant as being conquered, but takeaway our duels... then you'll see something. Anyway, duels now have to be witnessed by an official of the government. You can't duel without answering a hundred different questions and paying a fee. It's drained the whole life out of it all.\"\n\n\"It has saved lives,\" Jame said. \"Men can still die by each other's knives if they are determined. They simply have to give themselves time to cool down and think.\"\n\n\"Duels aren't about thinking,\" Kathana said. \"But I suppose it does mean that I don't have to worry about your pretty face being cutup on the street.\"\n\nJame snorted, resting his hand on his sword. The hilt, Mat noticed for the first time, was marked with herons-though he could not see if the blade was or not. Before Mat could ask another question, Kathana marched away and began squawking at some men who had spilled ale on their table. She did not seem the type to stand in one place for very long.\n\n\"Hows the weather, to the north?\" Jame asked, eyes still straight ahead.\n\n\"Dreary,\" Mat replied, honestly. \"As everywhere.\"\n\n\"Men say it's the Last Battle,\" Jame said.\n\n\"It is.\"\n\nJame grunted. \"If it is, it would be a bad time for interfering with politics, wouldn't you think?\""
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"value": "\"Bloody right it would be,\" Mat said. \"People need to stop playing games and have a look at the sky.\"\n\nJame eyed him. \"That's the truth. You should listen to what you are saying.\"\n\nLight, Mat thought. He must think Ym a spy of some sort. \"It's not my choice,\" Mat said. \"Sometimes, people will only listen to what they want to hear.\" He took another bite of his meat, which tasted as good as could be expected. Eating a meal these days was like going to a dance where there were only ugly girls. This, however, was among the better of the bad that he had had the misfortune of eating, lately.\n\n\"A wise man might just learn the truth,\" Jame said.\n\n\"You have to find the truth first,\" Mat said. \"It's harder than most men think.\"\n\nFrom behind, Kathana snorted, bustling past. \"The \"truth\" is something men debate in bars when they're too drunk to remember their names. That means it's not in good company. I wouldn't put too much stock in it, traveler.\"\n\n\"The name's Mandevwin,\" Mat said.\n\n\"I'm sure it is,\" Kathana said. She looked him over then. \"Has anyone ever told you that you should wear a hat? It would fit the missing eye quite well.\"\n\n\"Is that so,\" Mat said dryly. \"You give fashion advice as well as force-feeding men?\"\n\nShe swatted him on the back of the head with her cleaning rag. \"Eat your food.\"\n\n\"Look, friend,\" Jame said, turning toward him. \" I know what you are and why you are here. The fake eye bandage is not fooling me. You have throwing knives tucked into your sleeves and six more on your belt that I can count. I've never meta man with one eye who could throw worth a dried bean. She's not as easy a target as you foreigners think. You'll never make it"
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"value": "into the palace, let alone through her bodyguards. Go find some honest work instead.\"\n\nMat gaped at the man. He thought Mat was an assassin? Mat reached up and took off the bandage, exposing the hole where his eye had been. Jame started at that.\n\n\"There are assassins,\" Mat said calmly, \"after Tuon?\"\n\n\"Don't use her name like that,\" Kathana said, beginning to snap her cleaning rag at him again.\n\nMat reached up beside his head without looking, catching the tip of the rag. He held James eyes with his single one, not flinching.\n\n\"There are assassins,\" Mat repeated calmly, \"after Tuon?\"\n\nJame nodded. \"Mostly foreigners who don't know the right way of things. Several have moved through the inn. Only one admitted the reason he was here. I saw that his blood fed the dusty earth of the dueling grounds.\"\n\n\"Then I count you a friend,\" Mat said, standing. He reached into his bundle and took out his hat and put it upon his head. \"Who is behind it? Who has brought them in, put the bounty on her head?\"\n\nNearby, Kathana inspected his hat and nodded in satisfaction. Then she hesitated and squinted at his face.\n\n\"This isn't what you think,\" Jame said. \"He isn't hiring the best assassins. They're foreigners, so they aren't meant to succeed.\"\n\n\"I don't care how bloody likely their chances are,\" Mat said. \"Who is hiring them?\"\n\n\"He's too important for you to-\"\n\n\"Who?\" Mat said softly.\n\n\"General Lunal Galgan,\" Jame said. \"Head of the Seanchan armies. I can't make you out, friend. Are you an assassin, or are you here hunting assassins?\" \"I'm no bloody assassin,\" Mat said, pulling the brim of his hat down and picking up his bundle. \"I never kill a man unless he demands it-demands it with screams and thunder so loudly, I figure it would be impolite not to agree to the request. If I stab you, friend, you'll know that it is coming, and you will know why. I promise you that.\""
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"value": "\"Jame,\" Kathana hissed. \"It's him\"\n\n\"What now?\" Jame asked as Mat brushed past, raising his covered ashan-darei to his shoulder.\n\n\"The one the guards have been looking for!\" Kathana said. She looked to Mat. \"Light! Every soldier in Ebou Dar has been told to watch for your face. How did you make it through the city gates?\"\n\n\"By luck,\" Mat said, then stepped out into the alleyway.\n\n---\n\n\"What are you waiting for?\" Moiraine asked.\n\nRand turned toward her. They stood in Lan's command tent in Shienar. He could smell the smoke of burning fields, set aflame by Lan and Lord Agelmar s troops as they withdrew from the Gap.\n\nThey were burning the lands they would rather defend. A desperate tactic, but a good one. It was the sort of all-in tactic that Lews Therin and his people in the Age of Legends had been hesitant to try, at least at first. It had cost them dearly then.\n\nThe Borderlanders showed no such timidity.\n\n\"Why are we here?\" Moiraine pressed, stepping up to him. His Maidens guarded the tent from the inside; better to not let the enemy know Rand was here. \"You should beat Shayol Ghul right now. That is your destiny, Rand al'Thor. Not these lesser fights.\"\n\n\"My friends die here.\"\n\n\"I thought you were beyond such weaknesses.\"\n\n\"Compassion is not a weakness.\"\n\n\"Is it not?\" she said. \"And if, in sparing your enemy because of compassion, you allow them to kill you? What then, Rand al'Thor?\""
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "He had no answer.\n\n\"You cannot risk yourself,\" Moiraine said. \"And regardless of whether or not you agree that compassion itself can be a weakness, acting foolishly because of it certainly is.\"\n\nHe had often thought about the moment when he had lost Moiraine. He had agonized over her death, and he still reveled in her return. At times, however, he had forgotten how... insistent she could be.\n\n\"I will move against the Dark One when the time is right,\" Rand said, \"but not before. He must think I am with the armies, that I am waiting to seize more ground before striking at him. We must coax his commanders to commit their forces southward, lest we be overwhelmed at Shayol Ghul once I enter.\"\n\n\"It will not matter,\" Moiraine said. \"You will face him, and that will be the time of determination. All spins on that moment, Dragon Reborn. All threads in the Pattern are woven around your meeting, and the turning of the Wheel pulls you toward it. Do not deny that you feel it.\"\n\n\"I feel it.\"\n\n\"Then go.\"\n\n\"Not yet.\"\n\nShe took a deep breath. \"Stubborn as ever.\"\n\n\"And a good thing,\" Rand said. \"Stubbornness is what brought me this far. Rand hesitated, then fished in his pocket. He came outwith something bright and silvery-a Tar Valon mark.\" Here,\"he said, holding it out to her.\" I've been saving this.\"\n\nShe pursed her lips. \"It cannot be...\"\n\n\"The same one? No. That is long lost, I fear. I've been carrying this one around as a token, almost without realizing what I'd been doing.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "She took the coin, turning it over in her fingers. She was still inspecting it when the Maidens looked with alertness toward the tent flap. A second later, Lan lifted the flap and strode in, flanked by two Malkieri men. The three could have been brothers, with those grim expressions and hard faces.\n\nRand stepped up, resting his hand on Lan's shoulder. The man did not look tired-a stone could not look tired-but he did look worn. Rand understood that feeling.\n\nLan nodded to him, then looked at Moiraine. \"Have you two been arguing?\"\n\nMoiraine tucked the mark away, face becoming impassive. Rand didn't know what to make of the interaction between the two of them since Moi-raine's return. They were civil, but there was a distance between them that he had not expected.\n\n\"You should listen to Moiraine,\" Lan said, turning back to Rand. \"She has prepared for these days longer than you have been alive. Let her guide you.\"\n\n\"She wants me to leave this battlefield,\" Rand said, \"and strike immediately for Shayol Ghul instead of trying to fight those channelers for you so you can retake the Gap.\"\n\nLan hesitated. \"Then perhaps you should do as she-\"\n\n\"No,\" Rand said. \"Your position here is dire, old friend. I can do something, and so I will. If we can't stop those Dreadlords, they'll have you retreating all the way back to Tar Valon.\"\n\n\"I have heard what you did at Maradon,\" Lan said. \" I will not turn away\n\na miracle here if one is determined to find us.\"\n\n\"Maradon was a mistake,\" Moiraine said tersely. \"You cannot afford to expose yourself, Rand.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I cannot afford not to, either. I won't just sit back and let people die! Not when I can protect them.\"\n\n\"The Borderlanders do not need to be sheltered,\" Lan said.\n\n\"No,\" Rand replied, \" but I've never known one who would refuse a\n\nsword when one was offered in a time of need.\"\n\nLan met his eyes, then nodded. \"Do what you can.\"\n\nRand nodded to the two Maidens, who nodded back.\n\n\"Sheepherder,\" Lan said.\n\nRand raised an eyebrow.\n\nLan saluted him, arm across his chest, bowing his head.\n\nRand nodded back. \"There is something for you on the floor over there, Dai Shan.\"\n\nLan frowned, then walked to a pile of blankets. There were notables in this tent. Lan knelt, then raised a bright, silvery crown-thin, yet strong. \"The crown of Malkier,\" he whispered. \"This was lost!\"\n\n\"My smiths did what they could with old drawings,\" Rand said. \"The other is for Nynaeve; I think it will suit her. You have ever been a king, my friend. Elayne taught me to rule, but you... you taught me how to stand. Thank you.\" He turned to Moiraine. \"Keep a space clear for my return.\"\n\nRand seized the One Power and opened a gateway. He left Lan kneeling, holding the crown, and followed his Maidens out onto a black field. Burned stalks crunched beneath his boots and smoke wreathed the air.\n\nThe Maidens immediately sought shelter in a small depression in the field, huddling against the blackened earth, prepared to weather the storm."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Because one was certainly brewing. Trollocs milled in a large mass before Rand, prodding at the soil and at the remains of farmhouses. The River Mora rushed nearby; this was the first cultivated land south of Tarwin's Gap. Lan's forces had burned it before preparing to retreat downriver ahead of the Trolloc advance.\n\nThere were tens of thousands of the beasts here. Perhaps more. Rand raised his arms, forming a fist, drawing in a deep breath. In the pouch at his belt, he carried a familiar object. The small fat man with the sword, the angreal he had recently found at Dumai's Wells. He had returned therefor one last look and found it buried in the mud. It had been useful at Mara-don. Nobody knew he had it. That was important.\n\nBut there was more to what he would do here than tricks. Trollocs shouted as the winds whipped up around Rand. This was not the result of channeling, not yet.\n\nIt was Rand. Being here. Confronting him.\n\nSeas grew choppy when different streams of water crashed into one another. Winds grew powerful when hot air and cool mixed. And where Light confronted Shadow... storms grew. Rand shouted, letting his nature stir the tempest. The Dark One pressed upon the land, seeking to smother it. The Pattern needed equalization. It needed balance.\n\nIt needed the Dragon.\n\nThe winds grew more powerful, lightning breaking the air, black dust and burned stalks flipping up, twisting about in the maelstrom. Rand finally channeled as Myrddraal forced the Trollocs to attack him; the beasts charged against the wind, and Rand directed the lightning.\n\nIt was so much easier to direct than control. With a storm already in place, he didn't need to force the lightning-he needed only to cajole it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Strikes destroyed the front groups of Trollocs, a hundred bolts of lightning in succession."
},
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"value": "The pungent scent of burned flesh soon swirled in the storm, joining the charred stalks of grain. Rand roared as the Trollocs kept coming. Deathgates sprang up around him, gateways that zipped across the ground like water striders, sweeping Trollocs into death. Shadowspawn could not survive Traveling.\n\nThe stormwinds rose around Rand as he struck down those Trollocs who tried to reach him. The Dark One thought to rule here? He would see that this land already had a king! He would see that the fight would not-\n\nA shield tried to sever Rand from the Source. He laughed, spinning, trying to pinpoint the shield's origin. \"Taim!\" he yelled, though the storm captured his voice and overwhelmed it. \"I had hoped you would come!\"\n\nThis was the fight that Lews Therin had constantly demanded of him, a fight Rand hadn't dared begin. Not until now, not until he had control. He summoned his strength, but then another shield struck at him, and another.\n\nRand drew in more of the One Power, tapping nearly all that he could through the fat man angreal. Shields continued to snap at him like biting flies. None were strong enough to sever him from the Source, but there were dozens of them.\n\nRand calmed himself. He sought peace, the peace of destruction. He was life, but he was also death. He was the manifestation of the land itself.\n\nHe struck, destroying an unseen Dreadlord hiding in the rubble of a burned building nearby. He summoned fire and directed it at a second, burning him to nothingness.\n\nHe could not seethe weaves of the women out there-he could only feel their shields.\n\nToo weak. Each shield was too weak, and yet their attacks had him worried. They had come quickly, at least three dozen Dreadlords, each trying to cut him off from the Source. This was dangerous-that they had anticipated him. That was why they had hit Lan so hard with channelers. To draw Rand out."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Rand fought off the attacks, but none of them were in danger of truly shielding him."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A single person could not cutoff someone holding as much saidin as he was. They should have...\n\nHe saw it right before it happened. The other attacks were cover, feints. One that was coming would be created by a circle of men and women. A man would be leading.\n\nThere! A shield slammed against him, but Rand had had just enough time to prepare. He channeled Spirit in the tempest, weaving by instinct from Lews Therms memories, and rebuffed the shield. He shoved it away, but could not destroy it.\n\nLight! That had to be a full circle. Rand grunted as the shield slipped closer to him; it made a vibrant pattern in the sky, motionless despite the tempest. Rand resisted it with his own surge of Spirit and Air, holding it back as if it were a knife hanging above his throat.\n\nHe lost control of the tempest.\n\nLightning crashed around him. The other channelers wove to enhance the storm-they didn't try to control it, for they didn't need to. It being out of control served them, as at any moment, it could strike Rand.\n\nHe roared again, louder this time, more determined. I will beat you, Taim! I will finally do what I should have months ago!\n\nBut he did not let the anger, the wildness, force him into conflict. He couldn't afford to. He had learned better than that.\n\nThis was not the place. He could not fight here. If he did, he would lose.\n\nRand pushed with a surge of strength, throwing back Taim's shield, then used the moment of respite to weave a gateway. His Maidens went through immediately, and Rand, ducking his head against the wind, reluctantly followed."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborate with the author and advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 20"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fora time, he wasn't the Dragon Reborn. He wasn't even a son with his father. He was a student with his master.\n\nIn this, he remembered that no matter how good he had become, no matter how much he now remembered, there was still much he could learn.\n\nThey continued to spar. Rand did not count who had won which exchange; he just fought and enjoyed the peace of it. Eventually, he found himself exhausted in the good way-not in the worn-down way he had begun to feel lately. It was the exhaustion of good work done.\n\nSweating, Rand raised his practice sword to Tam, indicating that he was through. Tam stepped back, raising his own sword. The older man wore a grin.\n\nNearby, standing near the lanterns, a handful of Warders began clapping. Not a large audience-only six men-but Rand had not noticed them. The Maidens lifted their spears in salute.\n\n\"It has been quite a weight, hasn't it?\" Tam asked.\n\n\"What weight?\" Rand replied.\n\n\"That lost hand you've been carrying.\"\n\nRand looked down at his stump. \"Yes. I believe it has been at that.\"\n\nTylin's secret passage led to the gardens, opening up in a very narrow hole not far from where Mat had begun his climb. He crawled out, brushing the dust off of his shoulders and knees, then craned his neck back and looked up to the balcony far above. He had ascended to the building's heights, then crawled out through its bowels. Maybe there was a lesson in that somewhere. Maybe it was that Matrim Cauthon should look for secret passages before deciding to scale a bloody four-story building.\n\nHe stepped softly into the gardens. The plants were not doing well. These ferns should have far more fronds, and the trees were as bare as a Maiden in the sweat tent. Not surprising. The entire land wilted faster than a boy at Bel Tine with no dancing partners. Mat was pretty sure Rand was to blame. Rand or the Dark One. Mat could trace every bloody problem in his life to one or the other. Those flaming colors..."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "Moss still lived. Mat had not ever heard of moss being used in a garden, but he could have sworn that here it had been made to grow on rocks in patterns. Perhaps, when everything died off, the gardeners used what they could find.\n\nIt took him some searching, poking through dried shrubs and past dead flowerbeds, to find Tuon. He had expected to find her sitting peacefully in thought, but he should have known better.\n\nMat crouched beside a fern, unseen by the dozen or so Deathwatch Guards who stood in a ring around Tuon as she went through a series of fighting stances. She was lit by a pair of lanterns that gave off a strange, steady blue glow. Something burned within them, but it was not a regular flame.\n\nThe light shone on her soft, smooth skin, which was the shade of good earth. She wore a pale a'solma, a gown that was split at the sides, showing blue leggings underneath. Tuon had a slight frame; he had once made the mistake of assuming that meant she was frail. Not so.\n\nShe had shaved her head again properly, now that she was no longer hiding. Baldness looked good on her, strange though it was. She moved in the blue glow, running through a sequence of hand combat forms, her eyes closed. She seemed to be sparring with her own shadow.\n\nMat preferred a good knife-or, better, his ashandarei-to fighting\n\nwith his hands. The more space he had between himself and a fellow trying to kill him, the better. Tuon did not seem to need either. Watching her, he realized how fortunate he had been the night he had taken her. Unarmed, she was deadly.\n\nShe slowed, waving her hands in front of her in a gentle pattern, then thrusting them quickly to the side. She breathed in and brought her arms to the other side, her entire body twisting."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Did he love her?\n\nThe question made Mat uncomfortable. It had been scratching at the edges of his mind for weeks now, like a rat trying to have at the grain. It was not the sort of question Matrim Cauthon was supposed to have to ask. Matrim Cauthon worried only about the girl on his knee and the next toss of the dice. Questions about matters like love were best left to Ogier who had time to sit and watch trees grow.\n\nHe had married her. That was an accident, was it not? The bloody foxes had told him he would. She had married him back. He still did not know why. Something to do with those omens she talked about? Their courtship had been more of a game than a romance. Mat liked games, and he always played to win. Tuon's hand had been the prize. Now that he had it, what did he do with it?\n\nShe continued her forms, moving like a reed in the wind. Atilt this way, then a wave of motion that way. The Aiel called fighting a dance. What would they think of this? Tuon moved as gracefully as any Aiel. If battle were a dance, most of it was done to the music of a rowdy barroom. This was done to the swaying melody of a master singer.\n\nSomething moved over Tuon's shoulder. Mat tensed, peering into that darkness. Ah, it was just a gardener. An ordinary-looking fellow with a capon his head and freckled cheeks. Barely worth noticing. Mat put him out of his mind and leaned forward to take a better look at Tuon. He smiled at her beauty.\n\nWhy would a gardener be out at this time? he thought. Must be a strange type of fellow."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat glanced at the man again, but had trouble picking him out. The gardener stepped between two members of the Deathwatch Guard. They did not seem to care. Mat should not either. They must trust the man...\n\nMat reached into his sleeve and freed a knife. He raised it without letting himself think about why. In doing so, his hand brushed one of the\n\nbranches ever so softly.\n\nTuons eyes snapped open, and despite the dim light, she focused directly on Mat. She saw the knife in his hand, ready to throw.\n\nThen she looked over her shoulder.\n\nMat threw, the knife reflecting blue light as it spun. It passed less than a finger's width from Tuon's chin, hitting the gardener in the shoulder as he raised a knife of his own. The man gasped, stumbling back. Mat would have preferred to take him in the throat, but he had not wanted to risk hitting Tuon.\n\nRather than doing the sensible thing and moving away, Tuon leaped for the man, hands shooting toward his throat. That made Mat smile. Unfortunately, the man had just enough time-and she was just enough off-balance-that he managed to push backward and scramble between the baffled Deathwatch Guards. Mat's second dagger hit the ground behind the assassin's heel as he vanished into the night.\n\nA second later, three men-each weighing roughly the same as a small building-crashed down on top of Mat, slamming his face against the dry ground. One stepped on his wrist, and another ripped his ashandarei away from him.\n\n\"Stop!\" Tuon barked. \"Release him! Go after the other one, you fools!\"\n\n\"Other one, Majesty?\" one of the guards asked. \"There was no other one.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then to whom does that blood belong?\" Tuon asked, pointing at the dark stain on the ground that the assassin had left behind. \"The Prince of the Ravens saw what you did not. Search the area!\"\n\nThe Deathwatch Guards slowly climbed off Mat. He let out a groan. What did they feed these men? Bricks? He did not like being called'Highness,\" but a little respect would have been nice here. If it had prevented him from being sat upon, that was.\n\nHe climbed to his feet, then held out his hand to a sheepish Death-watch Guard. The fellow's face had more scars than skin. He handed Mat the ashandarei, then went off to help search the garden.\n\nTuon folded her arms, obviously unshaken. \"You have chosen to delay your return tome, Matrim.\"\n\n\"Delay my... I came to bloody warn you, not return to'you. I'm my\n\nown man.\"\n\n\"You may pretend whatever you wish,\" Tuon said, looking over her shoulder as the Deathwatch Guards beat at the shrubbery. \" But you must not stay away. You are important to the Empire, and I have use for you.\n\n\"Sounds delightful,\" Mat grumbled.\n\n\"What was it?\" Tuon asked softly. \" I did not seethe man until you drew attention. These guards are the best of the Empire. I have seen Daruo there catch an arrow in flight with his bare hand, and Barrin once stopped a man from breathing on me because he suspected an assassin whose mouth was filled with poisons. He was right/ '\n\n\"It's called a Gray Man,\" Mat said, shivering. \"There's something freakishly ordinary about them-they're hard to notice, hard to fixate upon.\" \"Gray Man,\" Tuon said idly. \"More myths come to life. Like your Trollocs.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Trollocs are real, Tuon. Bloody-\"\n\n\"Of course Trollocs are real,\" she said. \"Why wouldn't I believe that they are?\" She looked at him defiantly, as if daring him to mention the times she had called them myths. \"This Gray Man appears to be real as well. There is no other explanation for why my guards let him pass.\"\n\n\"I trust the Deathwatch Guards well enough,\" Mat said, rubbing his shoulder where one of them had placed his knee. \"But I don't know, Tuon. General Galgan is trying to have you killed; he could be working with the enemy.\"\n\n\"He's not serious about having me killed,\" Tuon said indifferently.\n\n\"Are you bloody insane?\" Mat asked.\n\n\"Are you bloody stupid?\" she asked. \"He hired assassins from this land only, not true killers.\"\n\n\"That Gray Man is from this land,\" Mat pointed out.\n\nThat quieted her. \"With whom did you gamble away that eye?\"\n\nLight! Was everyone going to ask him about it that way? \"I went through a rough patch,\" he said. \"I made it through alive, which is all that matters.\" \"Hmm. And did you save her? The one you went to rescue?\"\n\n\"How did you know about that?\"\n\nShe did not reply. \" I have decided not to be jealous. You are fortunate. The missing eye suits you. Before, you were too pretty.\n\nToo pretty? Light. What did that mean?\n\n\"Good to see you, by the way,\" Mat said. He waited a few moments. \"Usually, when a fellow says something like that, it's customary to tell them that you're happy to see them as well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am the Empress now,\" Tuon said. \"I do not wait upon others, and do not find it good' that someone has returned. Their return is expected, as they serve me.\"\n\n\"You know how to make a fellow feel loved. Well, I know how you feel about me.\"\n\n\"And how is that?\"\n\n\"You looked over your shoulder.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"I had forgotten that you are supremely good at saying that which has no meaning, Matrim.\"\n\n\"When you saw me,\" Mat explained, \"with a dagger in hand-as if to throw at you-you didn't call for your guards. You didn't fear I was hereto kill you. You looked over your shoulder to see what I was aiming at. That's the most loving gesture I think a man could receive from a woman. Unless you'd like to sit on my knee fora little while...\"\n\nShe did not reply. Light, but she seemed cold. Was it all going to be different, now that she was the Empress? He could not have lost her already, could he?\n\nFuryk Karede, the captain of the Deathwatch Guard, soon arrived with Musenge walking behind him. Karede looked like he had just found his house on fire. The other Deathwatch Guards saluted him and seemed to wither before him.\n\n\"Empress, my eyes are lowered,\" Karede said, going down on his belly before her. \"I will join those who failed you in spilling our lives before you as soon as anew squad has arrived to see to your protection.\"\n\n\"Your lives are mine,\" Tuon said, \"and you do not end them unless I give you leave. This assassin was not of natural birth, but a creation of the Shadow. Your eyes are not lowered. The Prince of the Ravens will teach you how to spot this kind of creature, so you will not be so surprised again.\" Mat was fairly certain that Gray Men were of natural birth, but then, so were Trollocs and Fades. It did not seem appropriate to point this out to Tuon. Besides, something else in her orders drew his attention."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'm going to do what, now?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat asked.\n\n\"Teach them,\" Tuon said softly. \"You are Prince of the Ravens. This will be part of your duties.\"\n\n\"We need to talk about that,\" Mat said. \"Everyone calling me \"Highness\" is not going to do, Tuon. It just won't.\"\n\nShe did not reply. She waited as the search proceeded, and made no move to retreat to the palace.\n\nFinally, Karede approached again. \"Highest One, there is no sign of the thing in the gardens, but one of my men has found blood on the wall. I suspect the assassin fled into the city.\"\n\n\"He is unlikely to try again tonight,\" Tuon said, \"while we are alerted. Do not spread news of this to the common soldiers or guards. Inform my Voice that our ruse has stopped being effective, and that we will need to consider anew one.\"\n\n\"Yes, Empress,\" Karede said, bowing low again.\n\n\"For now,\" Tuon said, \"clear out and secure the perimeter. I will be spending time with my consort, who has requested that I \"make him feel loved.\"\"\n\n\"That's not exactly-\" Mat said as the members of the Deathwatch Guard faded into the darkness.\n\nTuon studied Mat fora moment, then began to disrobe.\n\n\"Light!\" Mat said. \"You meant it?\"\n\n\"I'm not going to sit on your knee,\" Tuon said, pulling one arm out of her robe, exposing her breasts, \"though I may allow you to sit on mine. Tonight, you have saved my life. That will earn you special privilege. It-\"\n\nShe cutoff as Mat grabbed her and kissed her. She was tense with surprise. In the bloody garden, he thought. With soldiers standing all about, well within earshot. Well, if she expected Matrim Cauthon to be shy, she had a surprise coming."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He released her lips from the kiss. Her body was pressed against his, and he was pleased to find her breathless.\n\n\"I won't be your toy,\" Mat said sternly. \"I won't have it, Tuon. If you intend it to be that way, I will leave. Mark me. Sometimes, I do play the fool. With Tylin, I did for sure. I won't have that with you.\"\n\nShe reached up and touched his face, surprisingly tender. \"I would not have said the words I did if I had found in you only a toy. A man missing an eye is no toy anyway. You have known battle; everyone who sees you now will know that. They will not mistake you fora fool, and I have no use fora toy. I shall have a prince instead.\"\n\n\"And do you love me?\" he asked, forcing the words out.\n\n\"An empress does not love,\" she said. \" I am sorry. I am with you because the omens state it so, and so with you I will bring the Seanchan an heir.\n\nMat had a sinking feeling.\n\n\"However,\" Tuon said. \"Perhaps I can admit that it is... good to see you.\"\n\nWell, Mat thought, guess I can take that. For now.\n\nHe kissed her again.\n\nCHAPTER"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A Silence Like Screaming\n\nLoial, son of Arent son of Halan, had secretly always wanted to be hasty.\n\nHumans fascinated him, of that he made no secret. He was sure most of his friends knew, though he could not be certain. It amazed him what humans didn't hear. Loial could speak to them all day, then find that they had heard only part. Did they think that someone would speak without intending for others to listen?\n\nLoial listened when they spoke. Every word out of their mouths revealed more about them. Humans were like the lightning. A flash, an explosion, power and energy. Then gone. What would it be like?\n\nHastiness. There were things to learn from hastiness. He was starting to wonder if he had learned that particular lesson too well.\n\nLoial strode through a forest of too-silent trees, Erith at his side, other Ogier surrounding them. All held axes on shoulders or carried long knives as they marched toward the battlefront. Erith's ears twitched; she was not a Treesinger, but she could sense that the trees did not feel right.\n\nIt was horrible, horrible indeed. He could not explain the sense of a healthy stand of trees anymore than he could explain the sensation of wind on his skin. There was a rightness, like the scent of morning rain, to healthy trees. It was not a sound, but it felt like a melody. When he sang to them, he found himself swimming in that rightness.\n\nThese trees had no such rightness. If he drew close to them, he felt he could hear something. A silence like screaming. It was not a sound, but a feeling.\n\nFighting raged ahead of them in the forest. Queen Elayne's forces carefully withdrew eastward, out of the trees. They were nearly to the edge of Braem Wood now; once out, they would march for the bridges, cross them and burn them behind. Then the soldiers would launch volleys of destruction at the Trollocs trying to cross the river after them on their own bridges. Bashere hoped to reduce the enemy's numbers considerably at the Erinin before they continued east."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Loial was certain this would all make fascinating information for his book, once he wrote it. If he was able to write it. He laid his ears flat as the Ogier began their war song. He lent his voice to theirs, glad for the terrible song-the call to blood, to death-as it filled the silence left by the trees.\n\nHe started running with the others, Erith at his side. Loial drew out in front, axe raised above his head. Thoughts left him as he found himself angry, furious, at the Trollocs. They didn't just kill trees. They took the peace from the trees.\n\nThe call to blood, to death.\n\nBellowing his song, Loial laid into the Trollocs with his axe, Erith and the other Ogier joining him and stopping the brunt of this Trolloc flanking force. He had not intended to lead the Ogier charge. He did anyway.\n\nHe hacked at the shoulder of a ram-faced Trolloc, shearing its arm free. The thing yelled and fell to its knees, and Erith kicked it in the face, throwing it back into the legs of a Trolloc behind.\n\nLoial did not stop his song, the call to blood, to death. Let them hear! Let them hear\\ Swing after swing. Chopping deadwood, that was all this was. Dead, rotting, horrible wood. He and Erith fell into place with Elder Haman, who-with ears laid back-looked utterly fierce. Placid Elder Ha-man. He felt the rage too.\n\nA beleaguered line of Whitecloaks-whom the Ogier had relieved-stumbled back, making way for the Ogier.\n\nHe sang and fought and roared and killed, hacking at Trollocs with an axe meant for cutting wood, and never flesh. Working with wood was a reverent business. This... this was killing weeds. Poisonous weeds. Strangling weeds."
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"value": "He continued to chop the Trollocs, losing himself in the call to blood, to death. The Trollocs began to fear. He saw terror in their beady eyes, and he loved it. They were used to fighting men, who were smaller than themselves.\n\nWell, let the Trollocs fight someone their own size. They snarled as the Ogier line forced them back. Loial landed blow after blow, shearing through arms, hacking through torsos. He shoved his way between two bear Trollocs, laying about him with his axe, yelling in fury-fury now for what the Trollocs had done to the Ogier. They should be enjoying the peace of the stedding. They should be able to build, sing, and grow.\n\nThey could not. Because of these... these weeds, they could not! The Ogier were forced to kill. The Trollocs made builders into destroyers. They forced Ogier and humans to be like themselves. The call to blood, to death.\n\nWell, the Shadow would see just how dangerous the Ogier could be. They would fight, and they would kill. And they would do it better than any human, Trolloc or Myrddraal could imagine.\n\nBy the fear Loial saw in the Trollocs-by their terrified eyes-they were beginning to understand.\n\n\"Light!\" Galad exclaimed, falling back from the thick of the fight. \"Light!\"\n\nThe Ogier attack was terrible and glorious. The creatures fought with ears drawn back, eyes wide, broad faces flat as anvils. They seemed to transform, all placidity gone. They cut through ranks of Trollocs, hacking the beasts to the ground. The second row of Ogier, made up mostly of females, sliced up Trollocs with long knives, bringing down any who made it through the first line."
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"value": "Galad had thought Trollocs fearsome with their twisted mix of human and animal features, but the Ogier disturbed him more. Trollocs were simply horrible... but Ogier were gentle, soft-spoken, kindly. Seeing them enraged, bellowing their terrible song and attacking with axes nearly as long as men were tall... Light!\n\nGalad waved the Children back, then ducked as a Trolloc slammed into a tree nearby. Some of the Ogier were seizing wounded Trollocs by their arms and hurling them out of the way. Many of the other Ogier were blood-soaked to their waists, hacking and chopping like butchers preparing meat. Now and then, one of them fell, but unarmored though they were, their skin seemed tough.\n\n\"Light!\" Trom said, moving up to Galad. \"Have you ever seen anything like that?\"\n\nGalad shook his head. It was the most honest answer he could think of.\n\n\"If we had an army of those...\" Trom said.\n\n\"They're Darkfriends,\" Golever said, joining them. \"Shadowspawn for certain.\"\n\n\"Ogier are no more Shadowspawn than I am,\" Galad said dryly. \"Look, they're slaughtering the Trollocs.\"\n\n\"Any moment now, they'll all turn onus,\" Golever said. \"Watch...\" He trailed off, listening to the Ogier chant their war song. One large group of Trollocs broke, fleeing back around cursing Myrddraal. The Ogier didn't let them go. Enraged, the giant Builders chased after the Trollocs, long-handled axes chopping their legs, dropping them in sprays of blood and cries of agony.\n\n\"Well?\" Trom asked."
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"value": "\"Maybe...\" Golever said. \"Maybe it's a scheme of some kind. To gain our trust.\"\n\n\"Don't be a fool, Golever,\" Trom said.\n\n\"I'm not-\"\n\nGalad held up a hand. \"Gather our wounded. Let's head toward the bridge.\"\n\nRand let the swirling colors fade from his vision. \"It is nearly time for me to go,\" he said.\n\n\"To battle?\" Moiraine asked.\n\n\"No, to Mat. He is in Ebou Dar.\"\n\nHe had returned from Elayne's camp to Merrilor. The conversation with Tam still bounced around in his head. Let go. It wasn't nearly so easy. And yet, something had lifted from him in speaking with his father. Let go. There seemed a depth to Tam's words, one far beyond the obvious.\n\nRand shook his head. He couldn't afford to waste time on such thoughts. The Last Battle... it had to claim his attention.\n\nI have been able to draw close without drawing attention, he thought, fingering the deerhorn-hilted dagger at his belt. It seems to be true. The Dark One can't sense me when I carry this.\n\nBefore he could move against the Dark One, he had to do something about the Seanchan. If what Thom said was true, Mat might be the key. The Seanchan had to join the Dragon's Peace. If they did not...\n\n\"That is an expression I remember,\" a soft voice said. \"Consternation. You do it so well, Rand al'Thor.\"\n\nHe turned toward Moiraine. Beyond her, on the table in his tent, maps that Aviendha had sent by messenger showed positions where his army could gather in the Blight."
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"value": "Moiraine stepped up beside Rand. \" Did you know that I used to spend\n\nhours in thought, trying to discover what that mind of yours was conjuring? It is a wonder I did not pull every hair from my head in frustration.\"\" I was a fool for not trusting you,\" Rand said.\n\nShe laughed. A soft laugh, the laugh of an Aes Sedai who was in control. \"You trusted me enough. That was what made it all the more frustrating that you would not share.\"\n\nRand breathed in deeply. The air here at Merrilor was sweeter than in other places. He had coaxed the land here back to life. Grass grew. Flowers budded. \"Tree stumps and men,\" he said to Moiraine. \"The Two Rivers has both, and one is about as likely to budge as the other.\"\n\n\"Perhaps that is too harsh,\" Moiraine said. \"It was not merely stubbornness that drove you; it was a will to prove to yourself, and to everyone else, that you could do this on your own.\" She touched his arm. \"But you cannot do this on your own, can you?\"\n\nRand shook his head. He reached up to Callandor; strapped on his back, touching it. The sword's final secret lay bare to him now. It was a trap, and a clever one, for this weapon was a sa'angreal not for just the One Power, but for the True Power as well.\n\nHe had thrown away the access key, but on his back he carried something so very tempting. The True Power, the Dark One's essence, was the sweetest thing he had ever touched. With Callandor; he could draw it forth in strength such as no man had ever before felt. Because Callandor lacked the safety measures of most other angreal and sa'angreal, there was no telling how much of the Powers it could draw."
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"value": "\"There it is again,\" Moiraine murmured. \"What are you planning, Rand al'Thor, Dragon Reborn? Can you finally let go enough to tell me?\" He eyed her. \"Did you set this entire conversation up to pull that secret from me?\"\n\n\"You think very highly of my conversational abilities.\"\n\n\"An answer that says nothing,\" Rand said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Moiraine said. \"But might I point out that you did it first in deflecting my question?\"\n\nRand thought back a few steps in the conversation, and realized he'd done just that. \"I'm going to kill the Dark One,\" Rand said. \"I'm not just going to seal up the Dark One, I'm going to end him.\"\n\n\"I thought you had grownup while I was away,\" Moiraine said.\n\n\"Only Perrin grew up,\" Rand said. \"Mat and I have simply learned to pretend to be grownup.\" He hesitated. \"Mat did not learn it so well.\"\n\n\"The Dark One is beyond killing,\" Moiraine said.\n\n\"I think I can do it,\" Rand said. \"I remember what Lews Therin did, and there was a moment... a brief moment... It can happen, Moiraine. I'm more confident that I can do that than I am that I could seal the Dark One away.\" That was true, though he had no real confidence that he could manage either.\n\nQuestions. So many questions. Shouldn't he have some answers by now? \"The Dark One is part of the Wheel,\" Moiraine said.\n\n\"No. The Dark One is outside the Pattern,\" Rand countered. \"Not part of the Wheel at all.\"\n\n\"Of course the Dark One is part of the Wheel, Rand,\" Moiraine said. \"We are the threads that makeup the Pattern's substance, and the Dark One affects us. You cannot kill him. That is a fool's task.\""
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"value": "\"I have been a fool before,\" Rand said. \"And I shall be one again. At times, Moiraine, my entire life-all that I've done-feels like a fool's task. What is one more impossible challenge? I've met all the others. Perhaps I can accomplish this one too.\"\n\nShe tightened her grip on his arm. \"You have grown so much, but you are still just a youth, are you not?\"\n\nRand immediately seized control of his emotions, and did not lash back at her. The surest way to bethought of as a youth was to act like one. He stood straight-backed, and spoke softly. \"I have lived for four centuries,\" he said. \"Perhaps I am still a youth, in that all of us are, compared to the timeless age of the Wheel itself. That said, I am one of the oldest people in existence.\"\n\nMoiraine smiled. \"Very nice. Does that work on the others?\"\n\nHe hesitated. Then, oddly, he found himself grinning. \"It worked pretty well on Cadsuane.\"\n\nMoiraine sniffed. \"That one... Well, knowing her, I doubt you fooled her as well as you assume. You may have the memories of a man four centuries old, Rand al'Thor, but that does not make you ancient. Otherwise, Matrim Cauthon would be the patriarch of us all.\"\n\n\"Mat? Why Mat?\"\n\n\"It is nothing,\" Moiraine said. \"Something I am not supposed to know. You are still a wide-eyed sheepherder at heart. I would not have it any other way. Lews Therin, for all of his wisdom and power, could not do what you must. Now, if you would be kind, fetch me some tea.\""
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"value": "\"Yes, Moiraine Sedai,\" he said, immediately starting toward the teapot over the fire. He froze, then looked back at her.\n\nShe glanced at him slyly. \"Merely seeing if that still worked.\"\n\n\"I never fetched you tea,\" Rand protested, walking back to her. \"As I remember, I spent our last few weeks together ordering you around.\"\n\n\"So you did,\" Moiraine said. \"Think about what I said regarding the Dark One. But now I ask you a different question. What will you do now? Why go to Ebou Dar?\"\n\n\"The Seanchan,\" Rand said. \"I must try to bring them to our side, as I promised.\"\n\n\"If I remember,\" Moiraine said, \"you did not promise that you would try, you promised that you would make it happen.\"\n\n\"Promises to try'don't achieve much in political negotiations,\" Rand said, \"no matter how sincere.\" He held up his hand before him, arm outstretched, fingers up, and looked out of his open tent flaps. As if he were preparing to grab the lands to the south. Scoop them up, claim them as his, protect them.\n\nThe Dragon on his arm shone, gold and crimson. \"Once the Dragon, for remembrance lost.\" He held up his other arm, ending at the stump near the wrist. \"Twice the Dragon... for the price he must pay.\"\n\n\"What will you do if the Seanchan leader refuses again?\" Moiraine asked.\n\nHe hadn't told her that the Empress had refused him the first time. Moiraine didn't need to be told things. She simply discovered them.\n\n\"I don't know,\" Rand said softly. \"If they don't fight, Moiraine, we will lose. If they don't join the Dragon's Peace, then we have nothing.\""
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"value": "\"You spent too much time on that pact,\" Moiraine said. \"It distracted you from your goal. The Dragon does not bring peace, but destruction. You cannot change that with apiece of paper.\"\n\n\"We shall see,\" Rand said. \"Thank you for your advice. Now, and always. I don't believe I have said that enough. I owe you a debt, Moiraine.\" \"Well,\" she said. \"I am still in need of a cup of tea.\"\n\nRand looked at her, incredulous. Then he laughed and walked away to bring her some.\n\nMoiraine held her warm cup of tea, which Rand had fetched for her before leaving. He had become ruler of so much since they had parted, and he was as humble now as when she had first found him in the Two Rivers. Maybe more so.\n\nHumble toward me, perhaps, she thought. He believes he can slay the Dark One. That is not the sign of a humble man. Rand al'Thor, such an odd mixture of self-effacement and pride. Did he finally have the balance right? Despite what she had said, his action toward her today proved he was no youth, but a man.\n\nA man could still make mistakes. Often, they were of a more dangerous sort.\n\n\"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills,\" she murmured to herself, sipping the tea. Prepared by Rand's hand, and not someone else's, it was as flavorful and vibrant as it had been during better days. Not touched in the least bit by the Dark One's shadow.\n\nYes, the Wheel wove as it willed. Sometimes, she wished that weaving were easier to understand.\n\n\"Everyone knows what to do?\" Lan asked, turning in Mandarb's saddle."
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"value": "Andere nodded. He'd carried the word himself to the rulers, and from them it had gone to their generals and commanders. Only at the last moments had it been passed to the soldiers themselves.\n\nThere would be Darkfriends among them. There always were. It was impossible to exterminate rats from a city, no matter how many cats you brought in. The Light willing, this news would come too late for those rats to give warning to the Shadow.\n\n\"We ride,\" Lan said, setting heels into Mandarb's ribs. Andere raised his banner high, the flag of Malkier, and galloped at his side. He was joined by his ranks of Malkieri. Many of those had only a little Malkieri blood in them, and were truly Borderlanders of other nations. They still chose to ride beneath his banner, and had taken up the hadori.\n\nThousands upon thousands of horsemen rode with him, hooves shaking the soft earth. It had been along, hard retreat for their army. The Trollocs had superior numbers and presented a serious threat of surrounding Lan's men. Lan's mounted army was highly mobile, but there was only so much speed you could force upon soldiers, and Trollocs could march quickly. Faster than people could, particularly with those Fades whipping them. Fortunately, the fires in the countryside were slowing the Shadow's army. Without that, Lan's men might not have been able to escape.\n\nLan crouched in the saddle as the explosions from the Dreadlords began. To his left, the Asha'man Deepe rode, tied to his saddle because of his missing leg. As a ball of fire crackled through the air and arced down toward Lan, Deepe adopted a look of concentration and thrust his hands forward. The fire exploded in the air above them."
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"value": "Burning embers fell like crimson rain, trailing smoke. One hit Mandarb s neck, and Lan brushed it aside with a gauntleted hand. The horse didn't seem to notice.\n\nThe ground here was of deep clay. The terrain consisted of rolling hills, covered with sere grass, rocky outcrops and groves of defoliated trees. The retreat followed the banks of the Mora; the river would prevent the Trollocs flanking them from the west.\n\nSmoke bled from two distinct points on the horizon. Fal Dara and Fal Moran. The two grandest cities in Shienar, torched by their own people, along with the lands of their farms and orchards, everything that could provide even a handful of sustenance to the invading Trollocs.\n\nHolding the cities had not been an option. That meant they had to be destroyed.\n\nIt was time to start hitting back. Lan led a charge at the center of the mass, and the Trollocs set spears against the oncoming rush of Malkieri and Shienaran heavy cavalry. Lan brought his lance down, setting it in position along Mandarb's neck. He leaned forward in his stirrups, holding tightly with his knees, and hoped that the channelers-Lan now had fourteen, after a small reinforcement from Egwene-could do their part.\n\nThe ground ripped up before the Trollocs. The front line of Trollocs broke.\n\nLan chose his target, a massive boar Trolloc that was yelling at its companions as they shied away from the explosions. Lan took the creature in the neck; the lance pierced it, and Mandarb threw the Trolloc to the side while trampling one of the cowering beasts nearby. The roar of the cavalry became a crash as the riders hit hard, letting momentum and weight carry them into the thick of the Trollocs."
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"value": "Once they slowed, Lan tossed the lance to Andere, who caught it deftly. Lan's guards moved in and he slipped his sword from its sheath. Woodsman Tops the Sapling. Apple Blossom on the Wind. The Trollocs made for easy targets when he was in the saddle-the Trollocs\" height presented their necks, shoulders and faces at just the right level.\n\nIt was quick, brutal work. Deepe watched for attacks from the enemy Dreadlords, countering them. Andere moved up to Lan's side.\n\nLan's banner was a lodestone for the Shadowspawn. They began to roar and rage, and he heard two Trolloc words spoken over and over in their language. Murdru Kar. Murdru Kar. Murdru Kar. He laid about himself with his sword, spilling their blood, coldly, within the void.\n\nThey had taken Malkier from him twice now. They would never be able to taste his sense of defeat, his sense of loss, at leaving his homeland again, this time by choice. But by the Light, he could bring them close to it. His sword through their chests would do that best.\n\nThe battle descended into chaos, as so many did. The Trollocs fell into frenzy; his army had spent the last four days not engaging the beasts at all. They had only retreated, finally having gained some control over their withdrawal, enough to avoid clashes, at least, which their fires had made possible.\n\nFour days without a conflict, now this all-out attack. That was the first piece of the plan.\n\n\"Dai Shan!\" someone called. Prince Kaisel. He pointed to where the Trollocs had managed to divide Lan's guard. His banner was tipping."
},
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"value": "Andere. The man's horse fell, pulled down as Lan urged Mandarb between two Trollocs. Prince Kaisel and a handful of other soldiers joined him.\n\nLan couldn't continue on horseback, lest he accidentally trample his friend. He threw himself from the saddle, hit the ground and crouched beneath a Trolloc swing. Kaisel took that beast's leg off at the knee.\n\nLan dashed past the falling Trolloc. He saw his banner and a body beside it. Alive or dead, Lan did not know, but there was a Myrddraal raising a dark blade.\n\nLan arrived in a rush of wind and spinning steel. He blocked the Thakan'dar blade with a swing of his own, trampling his own banner as he fought. Within the void, there was no time for thought. There was only instinct and action. There was-\n\nThere was a second Myrddraal, rising up from behind Andere's fallen horse. So, a trap. Take down the banner, draw Lan's attention.\n\nThe two Fades attacked, one from each side. The void did not shake. A sword could not feel fear, and for that moment, Lan was the sword. The Heron Spreads Its Wings. Slashing all around him, blocking their blades with his own, back and forth. The Myrddraal were like water, flowing, but Lan was the wind itself. He spun between their blades, knocking back the attack to the right, then the one to the left.\n\nThe Fades began cursing in fury. The one to his left rushed Lan, a sneer on its pale lips. Lan stepped to the side, then parried the creature's thrust and lopped its arm off at the elbow. He continued in a fluid stroke, his swing continuing to where he knew the other Fade would be attacking, and took its hand off at the wrist."
},
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"value": "Both Thakan'dar blades clanged to the ground. The Fades froze, stupefied fora second. Lan cut the head of one from its neck, then twisted and drove his sword through the neck of the other. Black Pebbles on Snow. He\n\nstepped back and swiped his sword to the side to spray some of the deadly blood free of the blade. Both Fades fell, thrashing, flailing atone another, mindless, dark blood staining the ground.\n\nA good hundred and fifty Trollocs nearby fell writhing to the ground. They'd been linked to the Fades. Lan stepped over to haul Andere out of the mud. The man looked dazed, blinking, and his arm hung at a strange angle. Lan tossed Andere over his shoulder, and kicked his banner by its staff up into his freehand.\n\nHe ran back toward Mandarb-the area around him now clear of Trollocs-and handed the banner to one of Prince Kaisel's men. \"See that cleaned, then raise it.\" He slung Andere across the front of his saddle, mounted, and wiped his sword on his saddle blanket. The man didn't look mortally wounded.\n\nHe faintly heard Prince Kaisel behind. \"By my fathers!\" the man said. \"I'd heard he was good, but... but Light\\\"\n\n\"This will do,\" Lan said, surveying the battlefield, releasing the void. \"Send the signal, Deepe.\"\n\nThe Asha'man complied, sending a red streak of light into the air. Lan turned Mandarb and pointed his sword back toward the camp. His forces rallied around him. Their attack had always been meant to be a hit and retreat. They hadn't maintained a solid battle line. That was difficult with a cavalry charge."
},
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"value": "His troops pulled back, and the Saldaeans and Arafellin arrived, riding in quick waves to breakup the Trolloc lines and protect the retreat. Mandarb was wet with sweat; carrying two armored men was a difficult order for the horse, following a charge. Lan slowed the pace, now that they were out of direct harm.\n\n\"Deepe,\" Lan asked as they reached the back lines. \"How is Andere?\" \"He has a few broken ribs, a broken arm, and ahead injury,\" Deepe said. \"I'd be surprised if he could count to tenon his own right now, but I've seen worse. I'll Heal the head wound; the rest can wait.\"\n\nLan nodded, reining in. One of his guards-a surly man named Benish who wore a Taraboner veil, though he wore a hadori above it-helped take Andere off Mandarb; they held him up beside Deepe's horse. The one-legged Asha'man leaned down from the arrangement of straps that supported him in the saddle, placing his hand on Andere's head and concentrating.\n\nThe dazed look left Andere's eyes, and awareness took over. Then he started swearing.\n\nHe'll be fine, Lan thought, looking at the battlefield. The Shadowspawn were now falling back. It was near dusk.\n\nPrince Kaisel cantered up beside Lan. \"That Saldaean flag bears the red stripe of the Queen,\" he said. \"She's riding with them again, Lan.\"\n\n\"She is their queen. She can do as she wishes.\"\n\n\"You should talk to her,\" Kaisel said, shaking his head. \"Its not right, Lan. Other women from the Saldaean army are starting to ride with them as well.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I've seen Saldaean women spar,\" Lan said, still watching the battlefield. \"If I were to place abet on a contest between one of them and a man from any army in the South, I'd bet on the Saldaean any day.\"\n\n\"But...\"\n\n\"This war is everything or nothing. If I could roundup each woman in the Borderlands and put a sword in her hands, I would. For now, I'll settle for not doing something stupid-like forbidding some trained and passionate soldiers from fighting. If you, however, decide not to exercise that prudence, you are free to tell them what you think. I promise to give you a good burial once they let me take your head down off the pole.\"\n\n\"I... Yes, Lord Mandragoran,\" Kaisel said.\n\nLan took out his spyglass and surveyed the field.\n\n\"Lord Mandragoran?\" Kaisel said. \"Do you really think this plan will work?\"\n\n\"There are too many Trollocs,\" Lan said. \" The leaders of the Dark One's armies have been breeding them for years, growing them like weeds. Trollocs eat a lot; each one requires more food than a man to keep it going.\n\n\"By now, they must have eaten the Blight out of anything that could sustain them. The Shadow expended every bit of food they could to create this army, counting on the Trollocs being able to eat the corpses of the fallen.\"\n\nSure enough, now that the battle had broken off, the Trollocs swarmed the field in their gruesome scavenging. They preferred human meat, but would eat their own fallen. Lan had spent four days running before their army, not giving them anybodies to feast upon.\n\nThey'd managed it only because of the burning of Fal Dara and Fal Moran and other cities in western Shienar. Scouring those cities for food had slowed the Trollocs, allowing Lan's army to get its feet underneath it and organize its retreat."
},
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"value": "The Shienarans had left nothing edible in any of the nearby cities. Four days without food. The Trollocs didn't use supply lines; they ate what they came across. They'd be starving. Ravenous. Lan studied them with his spyglass. Many did not wait for the cookpots. They were far more animal than they were human.\n\nThey're far more Shadow than they are either one, Lan thought, lowering his spyglass. His plan was morbid, but the Light send it would be effective. His men would fight, and there would be casualties. Those casualties would become the bait for the real battle.\n\n\"Now,\" Lan whispered.\n\nLord Agelmar saw it, too. The horns blew, and a yellow streak of light rose into the air. Lan turned Mandarb, the horse snorting at the command. He was tired, but so was Lan. Both could stand another battle. They had to.\n\n\"Tai'shar Malkier!\" Lan roared, lowering his sword and leading his force back onto the field. All five Borderlander armies converged on the fractured Shadowspawn horde. The Trollocs had broken lines completely to fight over the corpses.\n\nAs Lan thundered toward them, he heard the Myrddraal yelling, trying to force the Trollocs back into order. It was far too late. Many of the famished beasts didn't lookup until the armies were nearly upon them.\n\nWhen Lan's forces hit this time, the effect was very different from before. Earlier, their attack had been slowed by the Trollocs\" close ranks, and they had managed to penetrate only a dozen paces before being forced to take up swords and axes. This time, the Trollocs were spread out. Lan signaled the Shienarans to hit first; their line was so tight, one would have been hard-pressed to find an opening of more than two paces between the horses."
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That left no room for the Trollocs to run or dodge. The riders trampled them in a thunder of hooves and clanking barding, skewering Trollocs on their lances, firing horsebows, laying about themselves with two-handed swords. There seemed to be a special viciousness to the Shienarans as they attacked, wearing their open-fronted helmets and armor made up of flat plates.\n\nLan brought his Malkieri cavalry in behind, riding cross-field behind the Shienarans to kill any Trollocs that survived the initial onslaught. Once they'd passed, the Shienarans broke to the right to gather for another pass, but the Arafellin slammed in behind them, slaying more Shadowspawn that were attempting to form up. After them came a wave of Saldaeans crossing as the Malkieri had, then the Kandori sweeping from the other direction.\n\nSweating-sword-arm tired-Lan prepared again. Only then did he realize that Prince Kaisel himself was carrying the banner of Malkier. The lad was young, but his heart was right. Though he was somewhat stupid about women.\n\nLight, but we all are, in one way or another, Lan thought. Nynaeve's distant emotions in the bond comforted him. He could not sense much over the distance, but she seemed determined.\n\nAs Lan began his second sweep, the ground started exploding beneath his men. The Dreadlords had finally realized what was happening and had made their way back to the front lines. Lan directed Mandarb around a crater that erupted in the ground just before him, soil spraying across his chest. The Dreadlords'appearance was his signal to stop the sweeps; he wanted to ride in, hit hard, and ride out. To fight the Dreadlords, he'd have to commit all of his channelers, which was something he didn't want to do."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Blood and bloody ashes!\" Deepe swore as Lan rounded another explosion. \"Lord Mandragoran!\"\n\nLan looked back. Deepe was slowing his horse.\n\n\"Keep moving, man,\" Lan said, reining in Mandarb. He signaled for his forces to keep riding, though Prince Kaisel and Lan's battlefield guard stopped with him.\n\n\"Oh, Light\" Deepe said, concentrating.\n\nLan surveyed the scene. Around them, Trollocs lay dead or dying, howling or simply whimpering. To his left, the mass of Shadowspawn was belatedly forming up. They'd have a unified line soon, and if Lan and the others didn't move, they'd find themselves alone on the field.\n\nDeepe had his eyes on a figure standing atop what appeared to be a large siege engine; it had a flatbed, and was perhaps twenty feet tall. A group of Trollocs were heaving it forward, and it rolled on large wooden wheels.\n\nYes, there was a figure up there. There were several of them. Balls of fire began to fall toward the Borderlanders as they rode away, and lighting flashed from the sky. Lan suddenly felt like a target on an archery practice field.\n\n\"Deepe!\"\n\n\"It's the M'Hael!\" Deepe explained.\n\nTaim had not been with the enemy army for the last week or so-but now the man had returned, it seemed. It was impossible to tell for sure because of the distance, but the way the man flung weaves in rapid succession, he seemed angry about something.\n\n\"Let's ride!\" Lan yelled.\n\n\"I could take him,\" Deepe said. \"I could-\"\n\nLan saw a flash of light, and suddenly Mandarb reared. Lan cursed, trying to blink the afterimage from his eyes. There was something wrong with his ears, too."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mandarb bucked and curvetted, quivering. It took a lotto shake the stallion, but a lightning bolt that close would unnerve any horse. A second flash of lightning threw Lan to the ground. He tumbled, grunting, but something-deep within-knew what to do. When he came to himself, he was already on his feet, dizzy, sword in hand. He groaned, staggering.\n\nHands grabbed him, hauling him up into a saddle. Prince Kaisel, face bloodied from fighting, held the reins. Lan's guard made sure he was steady on his mount as they rode away.\n\nHe caught sight of Deepe's corpse, mangled and lying in pieces, as they\n\nfled.\n\nCHAPTER\n\nOlder, More Weathered\n\n* y^\\ Tm T as not fruitful, Majesty,\" the voice said through Mat's\n\n...▼ ▼ Something was pricking Mat's face. This mattress\n\nwas the absolute worst he had ever slept on. He was going to thrash the innkeeper until he got his money back.\n\n\"The assassin is very difficult to follow,\" that annoying voice continued. \"People he passes do not remember him. If the Prince of the Ravens has information on how the creature maybe tracked, I would very much like to hear it.\"\n\nWhy would the innkeeper let these people into Mat's room? He drifted toward consciousness, leaving behind a lovely dream involving Tuon and no cares in the world. He opened a bleary eye, looking up at a cloudy sky. Not an inn's ceiling at all.\n\nBloody ashes, Mat thought, groaning. They had fallen asleep in the gardens. He sat up, finding himself totally bare except for the scarf around his neck. His and Tuon's clothing was spread out beneath them. His face had been in a patch of weeds."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tuon sat beside him, ignoring the fact that she was completely naked, speaking with a member of the Deathwatch Guard. Musenge was on one knee, head bowed, face toward the ground. But still!\n\n\"Light!\" Mat said, reaching for his clothing. Tuon was sitting on his shirt, and gave him an annoyed look as he tried to yank it free.\n\nHonored One,\"the guard said to Mat, face still down.\" Greetings upon your waking.\"\n\n\"Tuon, why are you just sitting there?\" Mat demanded, finally retrieving his shirt from under that luscious rump.\n\n\"As my consort,\" Tuon said sternly, \"you may call me Fortuona or Majesty. I would hate to have you executed before you give me a child, as I am growing fond of you. Regarding this guard, he is of the Deathwatch. They are needed to watch meat all times. I have often had them with me when bathing. This is their duty, and his face is averted.\"\n\nMat hurriedly began dressing.\n\nShe started to dress, though not quickly enough for his taste. He did not think much of a guard ogling his wife. The place where they had slept was rimmed by small blue fir trees-an oddity herein the South, perhaps cultivated because they were exotic. Though the needles were browning, they offered some measure of privacy. Beyond the firs was a ring of other trees-peaches, Mat thought, but it was hard to tell without the leaves.\n\nHe could barely hear the city waking up outside the garden, and the air smelled faintly of the fir needles. The air was warm enough that sleeping outside had not been uncomfortable, though he was glad to be back in his clothing.\n\nA Deathwatch Guard officer approached just as Tuon finished dressing. He crunched dried fir needles, bowing low before her. \"Empress, we may have caught another assassin. It is not the creature from last night, as he bears no wounds, but he was trying to sneak into the palace. We thought you might wish to see him before we begin our interrogation.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bring him forward,\" Tuon said, straightening her gown. \"And send for General Karede.\"\n\nThe officer withdrew, passing Selucia, who stood near the pathway that led to the clearing. She walked into stand beside Tuon. Mat put his hat on his head and went up to her other side, setting the ashandarei butt down in the dead grass.\n\nMat felt sorry for this poor fool caught sneaking into the palace. Maybe the man was an assassin, but he could just be a beggar or other fool looking for excitement. Or he could be...\n\n... the Dragon Reborn.\n\nMat groaned. Yes, that was Rand they led along the path. Rand looked older, more weathered, than the last time Mat had seen him in person. Of course, he had seen the man recently in those blasted visions. Although Mat had trained himself to stop thinking of Rand to avoid those colors, he still slipped on occasion.\n\nAnyway, seeing Rand in person was different. It had been... Light, how long had it been? The last time I saw him with my own eyes was when he sent me to Salidar after Elayne. That felt like an eternity ago. It had been before he had come to Ebou Dar, before he had seen the gholam for the first time. Before Tylin, before Tuon.\n\nMat frowned as Rand was led up to Tuon, his arms bound behind his back. She spoke with Selucia, wiggling her fingers in their handtalk. Rand did not seem the least bit worried; his face was calm. He wore a nice coat of red and black, a white shirt underneath, black trousers. No gold or jewelry, no weapon at all.\n\n\"Tuon,\" Mat began. \"That's-\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tuon turned from Selucia to see Rand. \"DamaneV Tuon said, cutting Mat off.\" Bring my damane\\ Run, Musicar! RUN 7\"\n\nThe Deathwatch Guard stumbled backward, then ran, yelling for the damane and for Banner-General Karede.\n\nRand watched the mango, nonchalant though he was bound. You know, Mat thought idly, he kind of does look like a king. Of course, Rand was mad, most likely. That would explain why he had strolled up to Tuon like this.\n\nEither that, or Rand was just planning on killing her. Bonds did not matter one bit to a man who could channel. Blood and ashes, Mat thought. How did I end up in this situation? He had done whatever he could to avoid Rand!\n\nRand met Tuon's stare. Mat took a big breath, then jumped in front of her. \"Rand. Rand, here now. Let's becalm.\"\n\n\"Hello, Mat,\" Rand said, voice pleasant. Light, he was mad! \"Thank you for leading me to her.\"\n\n\"Leading you...\"\n\n\"What is this?\" Tuon demanded.\n\nMat spun. \"I... Really, it's just...\"\n\nHer stare could have drilled holes in steel. \"You did this,\" she said to Mat. \"You came, you lured me to be affectionate, then you brought him in. Is this true?\"\n\n\"Don't blame him,\" Rand said. \"The two of us needed to meet again. You know it is true.\"\n\nMat stumbled out between them, raising one hand either direction. \"Here now! Both of you, stop. You hear me!\"\n\nSomething seized Mat, hauling him into the air. \"Stop that, Rand!\" he said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It isn't me,\" Rand said, adopting a look of concentration. \"Ah. I am shielded.\"\n\nAs Mat hung in the air he felt at his chest. The medallion. Where was his medallion?\n\nMat stared at Tuon. She looked ashamed fora brief moment, reaching into the pocket of her gown. She brought out something silver in her hand, perhaps intending to use the medallion as protection against Rand.\n\nBrilliant, Mat thought, groaning. She had taken it off him while he slept, and he had not noticed. Bloody brilliant.\n\nThe weaves of Air set him down beside Rand; Karede had returned with a suldam and damane. All three were flushed, as if having run quickly. The damane had been doing the channeling.\n\nTuon looked over Rand and Mat, then began gesturing with handtalk at Selucia with sharp motions.\n\n\"Thanks a bundle for this,\" Mat muttered to Rand. \"You're such a bloody good friend.\"\n\n\"Its good to see you too,\" Rand said, a hint of a smile on his lips.\n\n\"Here we go,\" Mat said with a sigh. \"You've pulled me into trouble again. You always do this.\"\n\n\"I do?\"\n\n\"Yes. In Rhuidean and the Waste, in the Stone of Tear... back in the Two Rivers. You do realize that I went south, instead of coming to your little party with Egwene in Merrilor, to escape?\"\n\n\"You think you could stay away from me?\" Rand asked, smiling. \"You really think it would let you?\"\n\n\"I could bloody try. No offense, Rand, but you're going to go mad and all. I figured I'd give you one less friend nearby to kill. You know, save you some trouble. What did you do to your hand, by the way?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What did you do to your eye?\"\n\n\"A little accident with a corkscrew and thirteen angry innkeepers. The hand?\"\n\n\"Lost it capturing one of the Forsaken.\"\n\n\"Capturing?\" Mat said. \"You're growing soft.\"\n\nRand snorted. \"Tell me you've done better.\"\n\n\"I killed a gholam,\" Mat said.\n\n\"I freed Illian from Sammael.\"\n\n\"I married the Empress of the Seanchan.\"\n\n\"Mat,\" Rand said, \"are you really trying to get into a bragging contest with the Dragon Reborn?\" He paused fora moment. \"Besides, I cleansed saidin. I win.\"\n\n\"Ah, that's not really worth much,\" Mat said.\n\n\"Not worth much? It's the single most important event to happen since the Breaking.\"\n\n\"Bah. You and your Asha'man are already crazy,\" Mat said, \"so what does it matter?\" He glanced to the side. \"You look nice, by the way. You've been taking better care of yourself lately.\"\n\n\"So you do care,\" Rand said.\n\n\"Of course I do,\" Mat grumbled, looking back at Tuon. \"I mean, you have to keep yourself alive, right? Go have your little duel with the Dark One and keep us all safe? It's good to know you're looking up to it.\"\n\n\"That's nice to hear,\" Rand said, smiling. \"No wisecracks about my nice coat?\"\n\n\"What? Wisecracks? You aren't still sore because I teased you a little a couple of years ago?\"\n\n\"Teased?\" Rand said. \"You spent weeks refusing to talk tome.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Here now,\" Mat said. \"It wasn't all that bad. I remember that part easily.\"\n\nRand shook his head, as if bemused. Bloody ungrateful was what he was. Mat had gone off to fetch Elayne, as Rand had asked, and this was the thanks he was given. Sure, Mat had been a little sidetracked after that. He had still done it, had he not?\n\n\"All right,\" Mat said very softly, tugging at the bonds of Air holding him. \"I'll get us out of this, Rand. I'm married to her. Let me do the talking, and-\"\n\n\"Daughter of Artur Hawkwing,\" Rand said to Tuon. \"Time spins toward the end of all things. The Last Battle has begun, and the threads are being woven. Soon, my final trial will begin.\"\n\nTuon stepped forward, Selucia waving a few last finger-talk words toward her. \"You will betaken to Seanchan, Dragon Reborn,\" Tuon said. Her voice was collected, firm.\n\nMat smiled. Light, but she made a good Empress. There was no need to filch my medallion, though, he thought. They were going to have words about that. Assuming he survived this. She would not really execute him, would she?\n\nAgain, he tried the invisible bonds tying him.\n\n\"Is that so?\" Rand asked.\n\n\"You have delivered yourself tome,\" Tuon said. \"It is an omen.\" She seemed almost regretful. \"You did not truly think that I would allow you to stroll away, did you? I must take you in chains as a ruler who resisted me-as I have done to the others I found here. You pay the price of your ancestors' forgetfulness. You should have remembered your oaths.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I see,\" Rand said.\n\nYou know, Mat thought, he does a fair job of sounding like a king, too. Light, what kind of people had Mat surrounded himself with? What had happened to the fair barmaids and carousing soldiers?\n\n\"Tell me something, Empress,\" Rand said. \"What would you all have done if you'd returned to these shores and found Artur Hawkwing's armies still ruling? What if we hadn't forgotten our oaths, what if we had stayed true? What then?\"\n\n\"We would have welcomed you as brothers,\" Tuon said.\n\n\"Oh?\" Rand said. \"And you would have bowed to the throne here? Hawkwing's throne? If his empire still stood, it would have been ruled over by his heir. Would you have tried to dominate them? Would you instead have accepted their rule over you?\"\n\n\"That is not the case,\" Tuon said, but she seemed to find his words intriguing.\n\n\"No, it is not,\" Rand said.\n\n\"By your argument, you must submit to us.\" She smiled.\n\n\"I did not make that argument,\" Rand said, \"but let us do so. How do you claim the right to these lands?\"\n\n\"By being the only legitimate heir of Artur Hawkwing.\"\n\n\"And why should that matter?\"\n\n\"This is his empire. He is the only one to have unified it, he is the only leader to have ruled it in glory and greatness.\"\n\n\"And there you are wrong,\" Rand said, voice growing soft. \"You accept meas the Dragon Reborn?\"\n\n\"You must be,\" Tuon said slowly, as if wary of a trap.\n\n\"Then you accept me for who I am,\" Rand said, voice growing loud, crisp. Like a battle horn. \"/ am Lews Therin Telamon, the Dragon. / ruled these lands, unified, during the Age of Legends. I was leader of all the armies of the Light, / wore the Ring of Tamyrlin. / stood first among the Servants, highest of the Aes Sedai, and I could summon the Nine Rods of Dominion.\" Rand stepped forward. \"/ held the loyalty and fealty of all seventeen Generals of Dawn's Gate. Fortuona Athaem Devi Paendrag, my authority supersedes your own!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Artur Hawkwing-\"\n\n\"My authority supersedes that of Hawkwing! If you claim rule by the name of he who conquered, then you must bow before my prior claim. I conquered before Hawkwing, though I needed no sword to do so. You are hereon my land, Empress, at my sufferance!\"\n\nThunder broke in the distance. Mat found himself shaking. Light, it was just Rand. Just Rand... was it not?\n\nTuon backed away, eyes wide, her lips parted. Her face was full of horror, as if she had just seen her own parents executed.\n\nGreen grass spread around Rand's feet. The guards nearby jumped back, hands to swords, as a swath of life extended from Rand. The brown and yellow blades colored, as if paint had been poured on them, then came upright-stretching as if after long slumber.\n\nThe greenness filled the entire garden clearing. \"He's still shielded!\" the sul'dam cried. \"Honored One, he is still shielded!\"\n\nMat shivered, and then noticed something. Very soft, so easy to miss.\n\n\"Are you singing?\" Mat whispered to Rand.\n\nYes... it was unmistakable. Rand was singing, under his breath, very softly. Mat tapped his foot. \"I swear I've heard that tune somewhere, once... Is it'Two Maids at the Water's Edge\"?\"\n\n\"You're not helping,\" Rand whispered. \"Quiet.\"\n\nRand continued his song. The green spread to the trees, the firs strengthening their limbs. The other trees began to shootout leaves-they were indeed peach trees-growing at great speed, life flooding into them.\n\nThe guards looked about themselves, spinning, trying to watch all of the trees at once. Selucia had cringed. Tuon remained upright, her eyes focused on Rand. Nearby, the frightened sul'dam and damane must have stopped concentrating, for the bonds holding Mat vanished."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue the tale as the plot helper for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 22"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At the edge of camp, Bayrd selected a nice, stout tree. He waved to the others, and they took the rope he'd fetched and tied Lord Jarid to the tree. The man sputtered until Morear gagged him with a handkerchief.\n\nBayrd stepped in close. He tucked a waterskin into the crook of Jarid s arm. \"Don't struggle too much or you'll drop that, my Lord. You should be able to push the gag off-it doesn't look too tight-and angle the waterskin up to drink. Here, I'll takeout the cork.\"\n\nJarid stared thunder at Bayrd.\n\n\"It's not about you, my Lord,\" Bayrd said. \"You always treated my family well. But, here, we can't have you following along and making life difficult. There's just something that we need to do, and you're stopping everyone from doing it. Maybe someone should have said something earlier. Well, that's done. Sometimes, you let the meat hang too long, and the entire haunch has to go.\"\n\nHe nodded to the others, who ran off to gather bedrolls. He pointed Rosse toward the slate outcropping nearby and told him what to look for in good spearhead stone.\n\nBayrd turned back to the struggling Lord Jarid. \"This isn't witches, my Lord. This isn't Elayne... I suppose I should call her the Queen. Funny, thinking of a pretty young thing like that as queen. I'd rather have bounced heron my knee at an inn than bow to her, but Andor will need a ruler to follow to the Last Battle, and it isn't your wife. I'm sorry.\"\n\nJarid sagged in his bonds, the anger seeming to bleed from him. He was weeping now. Odd thing to see, that."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll tell people we pass-if we pass any-where you are,\" Bayrd promised, \"and that you probably have some jewels on you. They might come for you. They might.\" He hesitated. \"You shouldn't have stood in the way. Everyone seems to know what is coming but you. The Dragon is reborn, old bonds are broken, old oaths done away with... and I'll be hanged before I let Andor march to the Last Battle without me.\"\n\nBayrd left, walking into the night, raising his new spear onto his shoulder. I have an oath older than the one to your family, anyway. An oath the Dragon himself couldn't undo. It was an oath to the land. The stones were in his blood, and his blood in the stones of this Andor.\n\nBayrd gathered the others and they left for the north. Behind them in the night, their lord whimpered, alone, as the ghosts began to move through camp.\n\nTalmanes tugged on Selfar's reins, making the horse dance and shake his head. The roan seemed eager. Perhaps Selfar sensed his master's anxious mood.\n\nThe night air was thick with smoke. Smoke and screams. Talmanes marched the Band alongside a road clogged with refugees smudged with soot. They moved like flotsam in a muddy river.\n\nThe men of the Band eyed the refugees with worry. \"Steady!\" Talmanes shouted to them. \"We can't sprint all the way to Caemlyn. Steady!\" He marched the men as quickly as he dared, nearly at a jog. Their armor clanked. Elayne had taken half of the Band with her to the Field of Merrilor, including Estean and most of the cavalry. Perhaps she had anticipated needing to withdraw quickly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Well, Talmanes wouldn't have much use for cavalry in the streets, which were no doubt as clogged as this roadway. Selfar snorted and shook his head. They were close now; the city walls just ahead-black in the night-held in an angry light. It was as if the city were a firepit.\n\nBy grace and banners fallen, Talmanes thought with a shiver. Enormous clouds of smoke billowed over the city. This was bad. Far worse than when the Aiel had come for Cairhien.\n\nTalmanes finally gave Selfar his head. The roan galloped along the side of the road fora time; then Talmanes reluctantly forced his way across, ignoring pleas for help. Time he'd spent with Mat made him wish there were more he could offer these people. It was downright strange, the effect Mat-rim Cauthon had on a person. Talmanes looked at common folk in a very different light now. Perhaps it was because he still didn't rightly know whether to think of Mat as a lord or not.\n\nOn the other side of the road, he surveyed the burning city, waiting for his men to catch up. He could have mounted all of them-though they weren't trained cavalry, every man in the Band had a horse for long-distance travel. Tonight, he didn't dare. With Trollocs and Myrddraal lurking in the streets, Talmanes needed his men in immediate fighting shape. Crossbowmen marched with loaded weapons at the flanks of deep columns of pike-men. He would not leave his soldiers open to a Trolloc charge, no matter how urgent their mission.\n\nBut if they lost those dragons...\n\nLight illumine us, Talmanes thought. The city seemed to be boiling, with all that smoke churning above. Yet some parts of the Inner City-rising high on the hill and visible over the walls-were not yet aflame. The Palace wasn't on fire yet. Could the soldiers there beholding?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No word had come from the Queen, and from what Talmanes could see, no help had arrived for the city. The Queen must still be unaware, and that was bad.\n\nVery, very bad.\n\nAhead, Talmanes spotted Sandip with some of the Band's scouts. The slender man was trying to extricate himself from a group of refugees.\n\n\"Please, good master,\" one young woman was crying. \" My child, my daughter, in the heights of the northern march. .\n\n\"I must reach my shop!\" a stout man bellowed. \"My glasswares-\"\n\n\"My good people,\" Talmanes said, forcing his horse among them, \"I should think that if you want us to help, you might wish to back away and allow us to reach the bloody city.\"\n\nThe refugees reluctantly pulled back, and Sandip nodded to Talmanes in thanks. Tan-skinned and dark-haired, Sandip was one of the Band's commanders and an accomplished hedge-doctor. The affable man wore a grim expression today, however.\n\n\"Sandip,\" Talmanes said, pointing, \"there.\"\n\nIn the near distance, a large group of fighting men clustered, looking at the city.\n\n\"Mercenaries,\" Sandip said with a grunt. \"We've passed several batches of them. Not a one seemed inclined to lift a finger.\"\n\n\"We shall see about that,\" Talmanes said. People still flooded out through the city gates, coughing, clutching meager possessions, leading crying children. That flow would not soon slacken. Caemlyn was as full as an inn on market day; the ones lucky enough to be escaping would be only a small fraction compared to those still inside.\n\n\"Talmanes,\" Sandip said quietly, \"that city's going to become a deathtrap soon. There aren't enough ways out. If we let the Band become pinned inside...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I know."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But-\"\n\nAt the gates a wave of feeling surged through the refugees. It was almost a physical thing, a shudder. The screams grew more intense. Talmanes spun; hulking figures moved in the shadows inside the gate.\n\n\"Light!\" Sandip said. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"TrollocsTalmanes said, turning Selfar.\" Light! They're going to try to seize the gate, stop the refugees.\" There were five gates out of the city; if the Trollocs held all of them...\n\nThis was already a slaughter. If the Trollocs could stop the frightened people from fleeing, it would grow far worse.\n\n\"Hurry the ranks!\" Talmanes yelled. \"All men to the city gates!\" He spurred Selfar into a gallop.\n\nThe building would have been called an inn elsewhere, though Isam had never seen anyone inside except for the dull-eyed women who tended the few drab rooms and prepared tasteless meals. Visits here were never for comfort. He sat on a hard stool at a pine table so worn with age, it had likely grayed long before Isam's birth. He refrained from touching the surface overly much, lest he come away with more splinters than an Aiel had spears.\n\nIsam's dented tin cup was filled with a dark liquid, though he wasn't drinking. He sat beside the wall, near enough the inn's single window to watch the dirt street outside, dimly lit in the evening by a few rusty lanterns hung outside buildings. Isam took care not to let his profile show through the smeared glass. He never looked directly out. It was always best not to attract attention in the Town.\n\nThat was the only name the place had, if it could be said to have a name at all. The sprawling ramshackle buildings had been put up and replaced countless times over two thousand years. It actually resembled a good-sized town, if you squinted. Most of the buildings had been constructed by prisoners, often with little or no knowledge of the craft. They'd been supervised by men equally ignorant. A fair number of the houses seemed held up by those to either side of them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sweat dribbled down the side of Isam's face, as he covertly watched that street. Which one would come for him?\n\nIn the distance, he could barely make out the profile of a mountain splitting the night sky. Metal rasped against metal somewhere out in the Town like steel heartbeats. Figures moved on the street. Men, heavily cloaked and hooded, with faces hidden up to the eyes behind blood-red veils.\n\nIsam was careful not to let his eyes linger on them.\n\nThunder rumbled. The slopes of that mountain were filled with odd lightning bolts that struck upward toward the ever-present gray clouds. Few humans knew of this Town not so far from the valley of Thakan'dar, with Shayol Ghul itself looming above. Few knew rumors of its existence. Isam would not have minded being among the ignorant.\n\nAnother of the men passed. Red veils. They kept them up always. Well, almost always. If you saw one lower his veil, it was time to kill him. Because if you didn't, he'd kill you. Most of the red-veiled men seemed to have no reason to be out, beyond scowling at each other and perhaps kicking\n\nat the numerous stray dogs--slat-ribbed and feral-whenever one crossed\n\ntheir path. The few women who had left shelter scuttled along the edges of the street, eyes lowered. There were no children to be seen, and likely few to be found. The Town was no place for children. Isam knew. He had grown from infancy here.\n\nOne of the men passing on the street looked up at Isam's window and stopped. Isam went very still. The Samma N'Sei, the Eye Blinders, had always been touchy and full of pride. No, touchy was too mild a term. They required no more than whim to take a knife to one of the Talentless. Usually it was one of the servants who paid. Usually."
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"value": "The red-veiled man continued to regard him. Isam stilled his nerves and did not make a show of staring back. His summons here had been urgent, and one did not ignore such things if one wished to live. But still... if the man took one step toward the building, Isam would slip into Tel'ararirhiod, secure in the knowledge that not even one of the Chosen could follow him from here.\n\nAbruptly the Samma N'Sei turned from the window. Ina flash he was moving away from the building, striding quickly. Isam felt some of his tension melt away, though it would never truly leave him, not in this place. This place was not home, despite his childhood here. This place was death.\n\nMotion. Isam glanced toward the end of the street. Another tall man, in a black coat and cloak, was walking toward him, his face exposed. Incredibly, the street was emptying as Samma N'Sei darted off down other streets and alleys.\n\nSo it was Moridin. Isam had not been thereto witness the Chosen's first visit to the Town, but he had heard. The Samma N'Sei had thought Moridin one of the Talentless until he demonstrated differently. The constraints that held them did not hold him.\n\nThe numbers of dead Sam? na N'Sei varied with the telling, but the claim never dipped below a dozen. By the evidence of his eyes, Isam could believe it.\n\nWhen Moridin reached the inn, the street was empty save for the dogs. And Moridin walked right on past. Isam watched as closely as he dared. Moridin seemed uninterested in him or the inn, which was where Isam had been instructed to wait. Perhaps the Chosen had other business, and Isam would bean afterthought."
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"value": "After Moridin passed, Isam finally took a sip of his dark drink. The locals just called it'fire.\" It lived up to its name. It was supposedly related to some drink from the Waste. Like everything else in the Town, it was a corrupt version of the original.\n\nHow long was Moridin going to make him wait? Isam didn't like being here. It reminded him too much of his childhood. A servant passed-a woman with a dress so frayed that it was practically rags-and dropped a plate onto the table. The two didn't exchange a word.\n\nIsam looked at his meal. Vegetables-peppers and onions, mostly-sliced thin and boiled. He picked atone and took a taste, then sighed and pushed the meal aside. The vegetables were as bland as unseasoned millet porridge. There wasn't any meat. That was actually good; he didn't like to eat meat unless he'd seen it killed and slaughtered himself. That was a remnant of his childhood. If you hadn't seen it slaughtered yourself, you couldn't know. Not for certain. Up here, if you found meat, it could have been something that had been caught in the south, or maybe an animal that had been raised up here, a cow or a goat.\n\nOr it could be something else. People lost games up here and couldn't pay, then disappeared. And often, the Samma N'Sei who didn't breed true washed out of their training. Bodies vanished. Corpses rarely lasted long enough for burial.\n\nBurn this place, Isam thought, stomach unsettled. Burn it with-\n\nSomeone entered the inn. He couldn't watch both approaches to the door from this direction, unfortunately. She was a pretty woman, dressed in black trimmed with red. Isam didn't recognize her slim figure and delicate face. He was increasingly certain he could recognize all of the Chosen; he'd seen them often enough in the dream. They didn't know that, of course. They thought themselves masters of the place, and some of them were very skilled."
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"value": "He was equally skilled, and also exceptionally good at not being seen.\n\nWhoever this was, she was in disguise, then. Why bother hiding herself here? Either way, she had to be the one who had summoned him. No woman walked the Town with such an imperious expression, such selfassurance, as if she expected the rocks themselves to obey if told to jump. Isam went quietly down on one knee.\n\nThat motion woke the ache inside his stomach from where he'd been wounded. He still hadn't recovered from the fight with the wolf. He felt a stirring inside of him; Luc hated Aybara. Unusual. Luc tended to be the more accommodating one, Isam the hard one. Well, that was how he saw himself.\n\nEither way, on this particular wolf, they agreed. On one hand, Isam was thrilled; as a hunter, he'd rarely been presented with such a challenge as Aybara. However, his hatred was deeper. He would kill Aybara.\n\nIsam covered a grimace at the pain and bowed his head. The woman left him kneeling and took a seat at his table. She tapped a finger on the side of the tin cup fora few moments, staring at its contents, and did not speak.\n\nIsam remained still. Many of those fools who named themselves Dark-friends would squirm and writhe when another asserted power over them. Indeed, he admitted with reluctance, Luc would probably squirm just as much.\n\nIsam was a hunter. That was all he cared to be. When you were secure with what you were, there was no cause to resent being shown your place.\n\nBurn it, but the side of his belly did ache.\n\n\"I want him dead,\" the woman said. Her voice was soft, yet intense."
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"value": "Isam said nothing.\n\n\"I want him gutted like an animal, his bowels spilled onto the ground, his blood a milkpan for ravens, his bones left to bleach, then gray, then crack in the heat of the sun. I want him dead, hunter.\"\n\n\"AlThor.\"\n\n\"Yes. You have failed in the past.\" Her voice was ice. He felt a chill. This one was hard. Hard as Moridin.\n\nIn his years of service, he had learned contempt for most of the Chosen. They bickered like children, for all their power and supposed wisdom. This woman made him pause, and he wondered if he actually had spied on all of them. She seemed different.\n\n\"Well?\" she asked. \"Do you speak for your failures?\"\n\n\"Each time one of the others has tasked me with this hunt,\" he said, \"another has come to pull me away and set me on some other task.\"\n\nIn truth, he'd rather have continued his hunt for the wolf. He would not disobey orders, not direct ones from the Chosen. Other than Aybara, one hunt was much the same to him as another. He would kill this Dragon, if he had to.\n\n\"Such won't happen this time,\" the Chosen said, still staring at his cup. She hadn't looked at him, and she did not give him leave to stand, so he remained kneeling. \"All others have renounced claim on you. Unless the Great Lord tells you otherwise-unless he summons you himself--you are to keep to this task. Kill al'Thor.\"\n\nMotion outside the window caused Isam to glance to the side. The Chosen didn't look as a group of black-hooded figures passed. The winds didn't cause the cloaks of these figures to stir."
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"value": "They were accompanied by carriages; an unusual sight in the Town. The carriages moved slowly, but still rocked and thumped on the uneven street. Isam didn't need to see into the carriages\" curtained windows to know that thirteen women rode inside, matching the number of Myrddraal. None of the Samma N'Sei returned to the street. They tended to avoid processions like this. For obvious reasons, they had... strong feelings about such things.\n\nThe carriages passed. So. Another had been caught. Isam would have assumed that the practice had ended, once the taint was cleansed.\n\nBefore he turned back to look at the floor, he caught sight of something more incongruous. A small, dirty face watching from the shadows of an alleyway across the street. Wide eyes but a furtive posture. Moridin's passing, and the coming of the thirteens, had driven the Samma N'Sei off the street. Where they were not, the urchins could go in some safety. Maybe.\n\nIsam wanted to scream at the child to go. Tell it to run, to risk crossing the Blight. To die in the stomach of a Worm was better than to live in this Town, and suffer what it did to you. Go! Flee! Die!\n\nThe moment passed quickly, the urchin retreating to the shadows.\n\nIsam could remember being that child. He'd learned so many things then. How to find food that you could mostly trust, and wouldn't vomit backup once you found out what was in it. How to fight with knives. How to avoid being seen or noticed.\n\nAnd how to kill a man, of course. Everyone who survived long enough in the Town learned that particular lesson."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Chosen was still looking at his cup. It washer reflection she was looking at, Isam realized. What did she see there?\n\n\"I will need help,\" Isam finally said. \"The Dragon Reborn has guards, and he is rarely in the dream.\"\n\n\"Help has been arranged,\" she said softly. \"But you are to find him, hunter. None of this playing as you did before, trying to draw him to you. Lews Therin will sense such a trap. Besides, he will not deviate from his cause now. Time is short.\"\n\nShe spoke of the disastrous operation in the Two Rivers. Luc had been in charge then. What knew Isam of real towns, real people? Almost, he felt a longing for those things, though he suspected that was really Luc's emotion. Isam was just a hunter. People held little interest for him beyond the best places for an arrow to enter so as to hit the heart.\n\nThat Two Rivers operation, though... it stank like a carcass left to rot. He still didn't know. Had the point really been to lure al'Thor, or had it been to keep Isam away from important events? He knew his abilities fascinated the Chosen; he could do something that they could not. Oh, they could imitate the way he stepped into the dream, but they needed channeling, gateways, time.\n\nHe was tired of being a pawn in their games. Just let him hunt; stop changing the prey with each passing week.\n\nOne did not say such things to the Chosen. He kept his objections to himself.\n\nShadows darkened the doorway to the inn, and the serving woman disappeared into the back. That left the place completely empty save for Isam and the Chosen."
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"value": "\"You may stand,\" she said.\n\nIsam did, hastily, as two men stepped into the room. Tall, muscular and red-veiled. They wore brown clothing like Aiel, but didn't carry spears or bows. These creatures killed with weapons far deadlier.\n\nThough he kept his face impassive, Isam felt a surge of emotion. A childhood of pain, hunger and death. A lifetime of avoiding the gaze of men like these. He fought hard to keep himself from trembling as they strode to the table, moving with the grace of natural predators.\n\nThe men dropped their veils and bared their teeth. Burn me. Their teeth were filed.\n\nThese had been Turned. You could see it in their eyes-eyes that weren't quite right, weren't quite human.\n\nIsam nearly fled right then, stepping into the dream. He couldn't kill both of these men. He'd have been reduced to ash before he managed to take down one of them. He'd seen Samma N'Sei kill; they often did it just to explore new ways of using their powers.\n\nThey didn't attack. Did they know this woman was Chosen? Why, then, lower their veils? Samma N'Sei never lowered their veils except to kill-and only for the kills they were most eagerly anticipating.\n\n\"They will accompany you,\" the Chosen said. \"You shall have a handful of the Talentless as well to help deal with al'Thor's guards.\" She turned to him and, for the first time, she met his eyes. She seemed... revolted. As if she were disgusted to need his aid.\n\n\"They will accompany you,\" she had said. Not'They will serve you.\"\n\nBloody son of a dog. This was going to be a hateful job."
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"value": "Talmanes threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the Trolloc's axe. The ground trembled as the axe broke cobblestones; he ducked and rammed his blade through the creature's thigh. The thing had a bull's snout, and it threw back its head to bellow.\n\n\"Burn me, but you have horrid breath,\" Talmanes growled, whipping his sword free and stepping back. The thing went down on one leg, and Talmanes hacked off its weapon hand.\n\nPanting, Talmanes danced back as his two companions struck the Trolloc through the back with spears. You always wanted to fight Trollocs in a group. Well, you always wanted to fight anyone with a team on your side, but it was more important with Trollocs, considering their size and strength.\n\nCorpses lay like heaps of trash in the night. Talmanes had been forced to fire the city gate's guardhouses to give light; the half-dozen or so guards who had remained were now recruits in the Band, for the time being.\n\nLike a black tide, the Trollocs began to retreat from the gate. They'd overextended themselves in pushing for it. Or, rather, being pushed for it. There had been a Halfman with this crew. Talmanes lowered his hand to the wound in his side. It was wet.\n\nThe guardhouse fires were burning low. He'd have to order a few of the shops set on fire. That risked letting the blaze spread, but the city was already lost. No sense in holding back now. \"Brynt!\" he yelled. \"Set that stable aflame!\"\n\nSandip came up as Brynt went running past with a torch. \"They'll be back. Soon, probably.\""
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"value": "Talmanes nodded. Now that the fighting was done, townspeople began to flood out of alleys and recesses, timidly making for the gate and-presumably-safety.\n\n\"We can't stay here and hold this gate,\" Sandip said. \"The dragons...\" \"I know. How many men did we lose?\"\n\n\"I don't have a count yet. A hundred, at least.\"\n\nLight, Mat's going to have my hide when he hears about that. Mat hated losing troops. There was a softness to the man equal to his genius-an odd, but inspiring, combination. \"Send some scouts to watch the city roadways nearby for approaching Shadowspawn. Heap some of these Trolloc carcasses to make barriers; they'll work as well as anything else. You, soldier!\"\n\nOne of the wearied soldiers walking past froze. He wore the Queen's colors. \"My Lord?\"\n\n\"We need to let people know this gate out of the city is safe. Is there a horn call that Andoran peasants would recognize? Something that would bring them here?\"\n\n\"\"Peasants,\"\" the man said thoughtfully. He didn't seem to like the word. They didn't use it often, herein Andor. \"Yes, the Queen's March.\"\n\n\"Sandip?\"\n\n\"I'll set the sounders to it, Talmanes,\" Sandip said.\n\n\"Good.\" Talmanes knelt to clean his sword on a fallen Trolloc's shirt, his side aching. The wound wasn't bad. Not by normal terms. Just a nick, really.\n\nThe shirt was so grimy he almost hesitated to wipe his weapon, but Trolloc blood was bad fora blade, so he swabbed down the sword. He stood up, ignoring the pain in his side, then walked toward the gate, where he'd tied Selfar. He hadn't dared trust the horse against Shadowspawn. He was a good gelding, but not Borderland-trained."
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"value": "None of the men questioned him as he climbed into the saddle and turned Selfar westward, out of the city gate, toward those mercenaries he'd seen watching earlier. Talmanes wasnt surprised to find that they d moved closer to the city. Fighting drew warriors like fire drawing cold travelers on a winter night.\n\nThey hadn't joined in the battle. As Talmanes rode up, he was greeted by a small group of the sell-swords: six men with thick arms, and-likely-thick wits. They recognized him and the Band. Mat was downright famous these days, and so was the Band, by association. They undoubtedly also noticed the Trolloc bloodstains on Talmanes\" clothing and the bandage at his side.\n\nThat wound had really begun to burn fiercely now. Talmanes reined in Selfar, then patiently patted at his saddlebags. I stowed some tabac here somewhere...\n\n\"Well?\" one of the mercenaries asked. The leader was easy to pick out; he had the finest armor. A man often became leader of a band like this by staying alive.\n\nTalmanes fished his second-best pipe out of his saddlebag. Where was that tabac? He never took the best pipe into battle. His father had called that bad luck.\n\nAh, he thought, pulling out the tabac pouch. He placed some in the bowl, then removed alighting twig and leaned over to stick it into a torch held by a wary mercenary.\n\n\"We aren't going to fight unless paid,\" the leader said. He was a stout man, surprisingly clean, though he could have done with a beard trim.\n\nTalmanes lit his pipe, puffing smoke out. Behind him, the horns started blowing. The Queen's March turned out to be a catchy tune. The horns were accompanied by shouts, and Talmanes looked back. Trollocs on the main thoroughfare, a larger batch this time."
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"value": "Crossbowmen fell into ranks and began loosing at an order Talmanes couldn't hear.\n\n\"We're not-\" the headman began again.\n\n\"Do you know what this is?\" Talmanes asked softly around his pipe. \"This is the beginning of the end. This is the fall of nations and the unification of humankind. This is the Last Battle, you bloody fool.\"\n\nThe men shuffled uncomfortably.\n\n\"Do you... do you speak for the Queen?\" the leader said, trying to salvage something. \"I just want to see my men taken care of.\"\n\n\"If you fight,\" Talmanes said, \"I'll promise you a great reward.\"\n\nThe man waited.\n\n\"I promise you that you'll continue to draw breath,\" Talmanes said, taking another puff.\n\n\"Is that a threat, Cairhienin?\"\n\nTalmanes blew out smoke, then leaned down from his saddle, putting his face closer to the leader. \"I killed a Myrddraal tonight, Andoran,\" he said softly. \" It nicked me with a Thakan'dar blade, and the wound has gone black. That means I have a few hours at best before the blade's poison burns me from the inside out and I die in the most agonizing way a man can.\n\nTherefore, friend, I suggest that you trust me when I tell you that I really have nothing to lose.\"\n\nThe man blinked.\n\n\"You have two choices,\" Talmanes said, turning his horse and speaking loudly to the troop. \"You can fight like the rest of us and help this world see new days, and maybe you'll earn some coin in the end. I can't promise that. Your other option is to sit here, watch people be slaughtered and tell yourselves that you don't work for free. If you're lucky, and the rest of us salvage this world without you, you'll draw breath long enough to be strung up by your cowardly necks.\""
},
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"value": "Silence. Horns blew from the darkness behind.\n\nThe chief sell-sword looked toward his companions. They nodded in agreement.\n\n\"Go help hold that gate,\" Talmanes said. \"I'll recruit the other mercenary bands to help.\"\n\nLeilwin surveyed the multitude of camps dotting the place known as the Field of Merrilor. In the darkness, with the moon not due to rise for sometime, she could almost imagine that the cook fires were shipborne lanterns in a busy port at night.\n\nThat was probably a sight she would never see again. Leilwin Shipless was not a captain; she would never be one again. To wish otherwise was to defy the very nature of who she had become.\n\nBayle put a hand on her shoulder. Thick fingers, rough from many days of work. She reached up and rested her hand on his. It had been simple to slip through one of those gateways being made at Tar Valon. Bayle knew his way around the city, though he had grumbled about being there. \"This place do set the hairs on my arms to points,\" he'd said, and, \"I did wish to never walk these streets again. I did wish it.\"\n\nHe'd come with her anyway. A good man, Bayle Domon. As good as she'd found in these unfamiliar lands, despite moments of unsavory trading in his past. That was behind him. If he didn't understand the right way of things, he did try.\n\n\"This do be a sight,\" he said, scanning the quiet sea of lights. \"What want you to do now?\"\n\n\"We find Nynaeve al'Meara or Elayne Trakand.\"\n\nBayle scratched at his bearded chin; he wore it after the Illianer style, with the upper lip shaved. The hair on his head was of varying lengths; he'd"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "stopped shaving a portion of his head, now that she had freed him. She'd done that so they could marry, of course.\n\nIt was well; the shaven head would have drawn attention here. He'd done quite well as so'jhin once certain... issues had been resolved. In the end, however, she had to admit that Bayle Domon was not meant to be so'jhin. He was too rough-cut, and no tide would ever soften those sharp edges. That was how she wanted him, though she'd never say so out loud.\n\n\"It do be late, Leilwin,\" he said. \"Perhaps we should wait until morning.\"\n\nNo. There was a quiet to the camps, true, but it was not the quiet of slumber. It was the quiet of ships waiting for the right winds.\n\nShe knew little of what was happening here-she hadn't dared open her mouth in Tar Valon to ask questions, lest her accent reveal her as Sean-chan. A gathering of this size did not occur without dedicated planning. She was surprised at the immensity of it; she'd heard of the meeting here, one that most of the Aes Sedai had come to attend. This exceeded anything she'd anticipated.\n\nShe started across the field, and Bayle followed, both of them joining the group of Tar Valon servants they had been allowed to accompany, thanks to Bayle's bribe. His methods did not please her, but she had been able to think of no other way. She tried not to think too much about his original contacts in Tar Valon. Well, if she was never to be on a ship again, then Bayle would find no more opportunities for smuggling. That was a small comfort.\n\nYou're a ship's captain. That's all you know, all you want. And now, Ship less. She shivered, and clenched her hands into fists to keep from wrapping her arms around herself. To spend the rest of her days on these unchanging lands, never able to move at apace brisker than what a horse could provide, never to smell the deep-sea air, never to point her prow toward a horizon, hoist anchor, set sail and simply..."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She shook herself. Find Nynaeve and Elayne. She might be Shipless, but she would not let herself slip into the depths and drown. She set her course and started walking. Bayle hunched down slightly, suspicious, and tried to watch all around them at once. He also glanced at her a few times, lips drawn to a line. She knew what that meant, by now.\n\n\"What is it?\" she asked.\n\n\"Leilwin, what do we be doing here?\"\n\n\"I've told you. We need to find-\"\n\n\"Yes, but why? What do you think you will do? They do be Aes Sedai.\"\n\n\"They showed me respect before.\"\n\n\"And so you do think they'll take us in?\"\n\n\"Perhaps.\" She eyed him. \" Speak it, Bayle. You have something on your\n\nHe sighed. \" Why do we need betaken in, Leilwin. \"\" We could find ourselves a ship somewhere, in Arad Doman. Where there do be no Aes Sedai\n\nor Seanchan.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't run the kind of ship you prefer.\n\nHe regarded her flatly. \" I do know how to run an honest business, Leil-\n\nwin. It would no be-'\n\nShe raised a hand, quieting him, then rested it on his shoulder. They\n\nstopped on the pathway. \" I know, my love. I know. I'm speaking words to\n\ndistract, to set us spinning in a current that goes nowhere.\n\n\"Why?\"....,\n\nThat single word scratched at her like a splinter under a ngernai.\n\nWhv> Why had she come all this way, traveling with Matrim Cauthon,"
},
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"value": "putting herself dangerously near the Daughter of the Nine Moons? My\n\npeople live with a grave misconception of the world, Bayle. In doing so, t ey\n\ncreate injustice.\" ,\n\n\"They did reject you, Leilwin,\" he said softly. You do no longer e\n\n0ft^ ll always be one of them. My name was revoked, but not my blood.\"\n\n\"I do be sorry for the insult.\"\n\nShe nodded curtly. \" I am still loyal to the Empress, may she hve forever. But the damane... they are the very foundation for her rule. They are t e means by which she creates order, by which she holds the Empire together.\n\nAnd the damane area lie.\" f\n\nSuldam could channel. The talent could be learned. Now, months after she had discovered the truth, her mind could not encompass all of the implications. Another might have been more interested in the political advantage; another might have returned to Seanchan and used this to gain power.\n\nAlmost, Leilwin wished she had done that. Almost.\n\nBut the pleas of the suldam... growing to know those Aes Sedai, who\n\nwere nothing like what she'd been taught...\n\nSomething had to be done. And yet, in doing it, did she risk causing the entire Empire to collapse? Her movements must be considered very,\n\nvery carefully, like the last rounds of a game of shal.\n\nThe two continued to follow the line of servants in the dark; one Aes Sedai or another often sent servants for something they d left in the White\n\nTower, so traveling back and forth was common-a good thing for Leilwin. They passed the perimeter of the Aes Sedai camp without being challenged."
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"value": "She was surprised at the ease of it until she spotted several men alongside the path. They were very easy to miss; something about them blended into the surroundings, particularly in the darkness. She noticed them only when one moved, breaking off from the others to fall into step a short distance behind her and Bayle.\n\nIn seconds, it was obvious that he'd picked the two of them out. Perhaps it was the way they walked, the way they held themselves. They'd been careful to dress plainly, though Bayle's beard would mark him as II-lianer.\n\nLeilwin stopped-laying a hand on Bayle's arm-and turned to confront the one following them. A Warder, she assumed from descriptions.\n\nThe Warder stalked up to them. They were still near the perimeter of the camp, the tents organized in rings. She had noticed with discomfort that some of the tents glowed with alight too steady to come from candle or lamp.\n\n\"Ho,\" Bayle said, raising a friendly hand to the Warder. \"We do be seeking an Aes Sedai named Nynaeve al'Meara. If she is not here, perhaps one named Elayne Trakand?\"\n\n\"Neither makes their camp here,\" the Warder said. He was a longarmed man, and he moved with grace. His features, framed by long, dark hair, looked... unfinished. Chiseled from rock by a sculptor who had lost interest in the project partway through.\n\n\"Ah,\" Bayle said. \"That do be our mistake, then. Could you point us to where they do be making camp? It do be a matter of some urgency, you see.\" He spoke smoothly, easily. Bayle could be quite charming, when necessary. Much more so than Leilwin could."
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That depends,\" the Warder said. \"Your companion, she wishes to find these Aes Sedai, too?\"\n\n\"She do-\" Bayle began, but the Warder held up a hand.\n\n\"I would hear it from her,\" he said, inspecting Leilwin.\n\n\"It do be what I wish,\" Leilwin said. \"My aged grandmother! These women, they did promise us payment, and I do mean to have it. Aes Sedai do not lie. Everyone do know this fact. If you will not take us to them, then provide someone who will!\"\n\nThe Warder hesitated, eyes widening at the barrage of words. Then, blessedly, he nodded. \"This way.\" He led them away from the center of the camp, but he no longer seemed suspicious.\n\nLeilwin let out a quiet breath and fell into step with Bayle behind the Warder. Bayle looked at her proudly, grinning so widely he'd certainly have given the two of them away if the Warder had looked back. She couldn't help a hint of a smile herself.\n\nThe Illianer accent had not come naturally to her, but both had agreed that her Seanchan tongue was dangerous, particularly when traveling among Aes Sedai. Bayle claimed that no true Illianer would accept her as one of them, but she was clearly good enough to fool an outsider.\n\nShe felt relieved when they moved away from the Aes Sedai camp into the dark. Having two friends-they were friends, despite their troubles with one another-who were Aes Sedai did not mean she wanted to be inside a camp full of them. The Warder led them to an open area near the middle of the Field of Merrilor. There was a very large camp here, with a great number of small tents."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aiel,\" Bayle said softly to her. \"There do be tens of thousands of them.\"\n\nInteresting. Fearsome stories were told of Aiel, legends that could not all possibly be true. Still, the tales-if exaggerated-suggested that these were the finest warriors this side of the ocean. She would have welcomed sparring with one or two of them, had the situation been different. She rested a hand on the side of her pack; she'd stowed her cudgel in along pocket on the side, easily within reach.\n\nThey certainly were a tall folk, these Aiel. She passed some of them lounging by campfires, seemingly relaxed. Those eyes, however, watched more keenly than the Warders' had. A dangerous people, ready for killing while relaxing beside fires. She could not make out the banners that flapped above this camp in the night sky.\n\n\"Which king or queen do rule this camp, Warder?\" she called.\n\nThe man turned to her, his features lost in the night shadow. \"Your king, Illianer.\"\n\nAt her side, Bayle stiffened.\n\nMy...\n\nThe Dragon Reborn. She was proud that she didn't miss a step as they walked, but it was a near thing. A man who could channel. That was worse, far worse, than the Aes Sedai.\n\nThe Warder led them to a tent near the center of the camp. \"You are fortunate; her light is on.\" There were no guards at the tent entrance, so he called in and received permission to enter. He pulled back the flap with one arm and nodded to them, yet his other hand was on his sword, and he stood infighting posture.\n\nShe hated putting that sword to her back, but she entered as ordered. The tent was lit by one of those unnatural globes of light, and a familiar woman in a green dress sat at a writing desk, working on a letter. Nynaeve al'Meara was what, back in Seanchan, one would calla telarti-a woman with fire in her soul. Leilwin had come to understand that Aes Sedai were supposed to becalm as placid waters. Well, this woman might be that on occasion-but she was the kind of placid water found one bend away from a furious waterfall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Nynaeve continued to write as they entered."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She no longer wore braids; her hair was loose around the top of her shoulders. It was a sight as strange as a ship with no mast.\n\n\"Til be with you in a moment, Sleete,\"Nynaeve said.\" Honestly, the way you lot have been hovering over me lately makes me think of a mother bird who has lost an egg. Don't your Aes Sedai have work for you to do?\"\" Lan is important to many of us, Nynaeve Sedai,\" the Warder-Sleete-said in a calm, gravelly voice.\n\n\"Oh, and he's not important tome? Honestly, I wonder if we should send you out to chop wood or something. If one more Warder comes to see if I need-\"\n\nShe glanced up, finally seeing Leilwin. Nynaeve's face immediately grew impassive. Cold. Burningly cold. Leilwin found herself sweating. This woman held her life in her hands. Why couldn't it have been Elayne that Sleete had brought them to? Perhaps they shouldn't have mentioned Nynaeve.\n\n\"These two demanded to see you,\" Sleete said. His sword was out of its sheath. Leilwin hadn't seen that. Domon muttered softly to himself. \"They claim that you promised to pay them money, and they have come for it. They did not identify themselves in the Tower, however, and found away to slip through one of the gateways. The man is from Illian. The woman, somewhere else. She's disguising her accent.\"\n\nWell, perhaps she wasn't as good with the accent as she'd assumed. Leilwin glanced at his sword. If she rolled to the side, he'd probably miss a strike, assuming he went for the chest or neck. She could pull the cudgel and-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was facing an Aes Sedai. She'd never stand up from that roll. She'd be caught in a weave of the One Power, or worse.\n\n\"I know them, Sleete,\" Nynaeve said, voice cool. \"You did well in bringing them tome. Thank you.\"\n\nHis sword was sheathed at once, and Leilwin felt cool air on her neck as he slipped out of the tent, quiet as a whisper.\n\n\"If you've come to beg forgiveness,\" Nynaeve said, \"you've come to the wrong person. I've half a mind to give you over to the Warders to question. Maybe they can bleed something useful about your people from that treacherous mind of yours.\"\n\n\"It is good to see you again too, Nynaeve,\" Leilwin said coolly.\n\n\"So what happened?\" Nynaeve demanded.\n\nWhat happened? What was the woman talking about?\n\n\"I did try,\" Bayle suddenly said, regretfully. \"I did fight them, but I was taken easily. They could have fired my ship, sunk us all, killed my men.\"\n\n\"Better that you and all aboard should have died, Illianer,\" Nynaeve said. \"The ter'angreal ended up in the hands of one of the Forsaken; Semi-rhage was hiding among the Seanchan, pretending to be some kind of judge. A Truthspeaker? Is that the word?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Leilwin said softly. She understood now. \"I regret breaking my oath, but-\"\n\n\"You regret it, Egeanin?\" Nynaeve said, standing, knocking her chair back. \"\"Regret\" is not a word I would use for endangering the world itself, bringing us to the brink of darkness and all but shoving us over the edge! She had copies of that device made, woman. One ended up around the neck of the Dragon Reborn. The Dragon Reborn himself, controlled by one of the Forsaken!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Nynaeve flung her hands into the air."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Light! We were heartbeats from the end, because of you. The end of everything. No more Pattern, no more world, nothing. Millions of lives could have winked out because of your carelessness.\"\n\n\"I. . Leilwin's failures seemed monumental, suddenly. Her life, lost. Her very name, lost. Her ship, stripped from her by the Daughter of the Nine Moons herself. All were immaterial in light of this.\n\n\"I did fight,\" Bayle said more firmly. \"I did fight with what I could give.\"\n\n\"I should have joined you, it appears,\" Leilwin said.\n\n\"I did try to explain that,\" Bayle said grimly. \"Many times now, burn me, but I did.\"\n\n\"Bah,\" Nynaeve said, raising a hand to her forehead. \"What are you doing here, Egeanin? I had hoped you were dead. If you had died trying to keep your oath, then I could not have blamed you.\"\n\nI handed it to Suroth myself Leilwin thought. A price paid for my life, the only way out.\n\n\"Well?\" Nynaeve glared at her. \"Outwith it, Egeanin.\"\n\n\"I no longer bear that name.\" Leilwin went down on her knees. \" I have\n\nhad all stripped from me, including my honor, it now appears. I give myself to you as payment.\"\n\nNynaeve snorted. \"We don't keep people as if they were animals, unlike you Seanchan.\"\n\nLeilwin continued kneeling. Bayle rested a hand on her shoulder, but did not try to pull her to her feet. He understood well enough now why she had to do as she had. He was quite nearly civilized."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"On your feet,\" Nynaeve snapped. \"Light, Egeanin. I remember you being so strong you could chew rocks and spit out sand.\"\n\n\"It is my strength that compels me,\" she said, lowering her eyes. Did Nynaeve not understand how difficult this was? It would be easier to slither own throat, only she had not the honor left to demand such an easy end.\n\n\"Stand!\"\n\nLeilwin did as told.\n\nNynaeve grabbed her cloak off the bed and threw it on. \"Come. We'll take you to the Amyrlin. Maybe she'll know what to do with you.\"\n\nNynaeve barged out into the night, and Leilwin followed. Her decision had been made. There was only one path that made sense, one way to preserve a shred of honor, and perhaps to help her people survive the lies they had been telling themselves for so long.\n\nLeilwin Shipless now belonged to the White Tower. Whatever they said, whatever they tried to do with her, that fact would not change. They owned her. She would be a da covale to this Amyrlin, and would ride this storm like a ship whose sail had been shredded by the wind.\n\nPerhaps, with what remained of her honor, she could earn this woman's trust.\n\n\"It's part of an old Borderlander relief for the pain,\" Melten said, removing the bandage at Talmanes\" side. \"The blisterleaf slows the taint left by the cursed metal.\"\n\nMelten was a lean, mop-haired man. He dressed like an Andoran woodsman, with a simple shirt and cloak, but spoke like a Borderlander. In his pouch he carried a set of colored balls that he'd sometimes juggle for the other members of the Band. In another life, he must have been a gleeman."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was an unlikely man to be in the Band, but they all were, in one way or another.\n\n\"I don't know how it dampens the poison,\" Melten said. \"But it does. It's no natural poison, mind you. You can't suck it free.\"\n\nTalmanes pressed his hand to the side. The burning pain felt like thorny vines crawling in under his skin, creeping forward and tearing at his flesh with every movement. He could feel the poison moving through his body. Light, but it hurt.\n\nNearby, the men of the Band fought through Caemlyn up toward the Palace. They'd come in through the southern gate, leaving the mercenary bands-under Sandip's command-holding the western gate.\n\nIf there was human resistance anywhere in the city, it would beat the Palace. Unfortunately, fists of Trollocs roved the area between Talmanes' position and the Palace. They kept running across the monsters and getting drawn into fights.\n\nTalmanes couldn't find out if, indeed, there was resistance above without getting there. That meant leading his men up toward the Palace, fighting all the way, and leaving himself open to being cutoff from behind if one of those roving groups worked around behind him. There was nothing for it, though. He needed to find out what-if anything-remained of the Palace defenses. From there, he could strike further into the city and try to get the dragons.\n\nThe air smelled of smoke and blood; during a brief pause in the fighting, they'd piled dead Trollocs against the right side of the street to make room for passage.\n\nThere were refugees in this quarter of the city, too, though not a flood of them. A stream, maybe, seeping in from the darkness as Talmanes and the Band seized sections of the thoroughfare leading up toward the Palace. These refugees never demanded that the Band protect their goods or rescue their homes; they sobbed with joy at finding human resistance. Madwin was in charge of sending them toward freedom along the corridor of safety the Band had carved free."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Talmanes started up toward the Palace, atop the hill but only barely visible in the night. Though most of the city burned, the Palace was not aflame; its whitewalls hung in the smoky night like phantoms. No fire. That had to indicate resistance, didn't it? Wouldn't the Trollocs have attacked it as one of their first actions in the city?\n\nHe'd sent scouts along the street up ahead as he gave his men-and himself-a short breather.\n\nMelten finished tying Talmanes' poultice tight.\n\n\"Thank you, Melten,\" Talmanes said, nodding to the man. \"I can feel the poultice working already. You said this is part of the cure for the pain. What is the other part?\"\n\nMelten unhooked a metal flask from his belt and handed it over. \"Shienaran brandy, full strength.\"\n\n\"It's not a good idea to drink in combat, man.\"\n\n\"Take it,\" Melten said softly. \"Keep the flask and drink it deep, my Lord. Or come the next bell, you won't be standing.\"\n\nTalmanes hesitated, then took the flask and took along swallow. It burned like the wound. He coughed, then tucked the brandy away. \"I believe you mistook your bottles, Melten. That was something you found in a tanning vat.\"\n\nMelten snorted. \"And it's said you have no sense of humor, Lord Talmanes.\"\n\n\"I haven't one,\" Talmanes said. \"Stay close with that sword of yours.\"\n\nMelten nodded, eyes solemn. \"Dreadbane,\" he whispered.\n\n\"What's that?\"\n\n\"Borderlander title. You slew a Fade. Dreadbane.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It had about seventeen bolts in it at the time.\"\n\n\"Doesn't matter.\" Melten clasped him on the shoulder. \"Dreadbane. When you can't take the pain any longer, make two fists and raise them toward me. I will seethe deed done.\"\n\nTalmanes stood up, unable to suppress a groan. They both understood. The several Borderlanders in the Band agreed; wounds made by a Thakan'dar blade were unpredictable. Some festered quickly, others made men sick. When one went black like Talmanes\", though... that was the worst. Nothing short of finding an Aes Sedai in the next few hours could save him.\n\n\"See,\" Talmanes muttered, \"it is a good thing I have no sense of humor, otherwise I should think the Pattern was playing a joke on me. Dennel! You have a map handy?\" Light, but he missed Vanin.\n\n\"My Lord,\" Dennel said, hurrying across the dark street carrying a torch and a hastily drawn map. He was one of the Band's dragon captains. \"I think I've found a faster way through the streets to where Aludra had the dragons stored.\"\n\n\"We're fighting to the Palace first,\" Talmanes said.\n\n\"My Lord.\" Dennel's words came more softly from his wide lips. He was picking at his uniform, as if it didn't fit right. \"If the Shadow reaches those dragons...\"\n\n\"I'm well aware of the dangers, Dennel, thank you. How fast could you move the things, assuming we reach them? I'm worried about extending ourselves too far, and this city is going up faster than oil-soaked love letters to a High Lords mistress. I want to get the weapons and leave the city as quickly as possible.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I can level an enemy bulwark in a shot or two, my Lord, but the dragons do not move quickly. They are attached to carts, so that will help, but they aren't going to be any faster than... say, a line of supply wagons. And they would take time to setup properly and fire.\"\n\n\"Then we continue to the Palace,\" Talmanes said.\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"At the Palace,\" he said sternly, \"we might find women who can channel us a gateway straight to Aludra's warehouse. Besides, if we find the Palace Guard still fighting, we know we have a friend at our backs. We will retrieve those dragons, but we'll do it smartly.\"\n\nHe noticed Ladwin and Mar hurrying down from above. \"There are Trollocs up there!\" Mar said, hastening up to Talmanes. \"A hundred strong at least, hunkered down in the street.\"\n\n\"Form ranks, men!\" Talmanes shouted. \"We push for the Palace!\"\n\nThe sweat tent fell completely still.\n\nAviendha had anticipated incredulity, perhaps, at her tale. Questions, certainly. Not this painful silence.\n\nThough she had not expected it, she did understand it. She had felt it herself after seeing her vision of the Aiel slowly losing ji'e\"toh in the future. She had witnessed the death, dishonor and ruination of her people. At least now she had someone with whom to share that burden.\n\nThe heated stones in the kettle hissed softly. Someone should pour more water, but none of the room's six occupants moved to tend it. The other five were all Wise Ones, naked-as was Aviendha-after the manner of sweat tents. Sorilea, Amys, Bair, Melaine and Kymer of the To-manelle Aiel. All stared straight ahead, each alone for the moment with her thoughts."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One by one, they straightened their backs and sat up, as if accepting anew burden. That comforted Aviendha; not that she'd expected the news to break them. It was still good to see them set their faces toward the danger instead of away from it.\n\n\"Sightblinder is too close to the world now,\" said Melaine. \"The Pattern has been twisted somehow. In the dream we still see many things that mayor may not happen, but there are too many possibilities; we cannot tell one from another. The fate of our people is unclear to the dreamwalkers, as is the fate of the Car'a\"carn once he spits in Sightblinder's eye on the Last Day. We do not know the truth of what Aviendha saw.\"\n\n\"We must test this,\" Sorilea said, eyes like stone. \"We must know. Is each woman now shown this vision instead of the other, or was the experience unique?\"\n\n\"Elenar of the Daryne,\" Amys said. \"Her training is nearly complete; she will be the next to visit Rhuidean. We could ask Hayde and Shanni to encourage her.\"\n\nAviendha suppressed a shudder. She understood too well how'encouraging\" the Wise Ones could be.\n\n\"That would be well,\" Bair said, leaning forward. \"Perhaps this is what happens whenever someone goes through the glass columns a second time? Maybe that is why it is forbidden.\"\n\nNone of them looked at Aviendha, but she could feel them considering her. What she had done was forbidden. Speaking of what happened in Rhuidean was also taboo.\n\nThere would be no reprimand. Rhuidean had not killed her; this was what the Wheel had spun. Bair continued to stare into the distance. Sweat trickled down the sides of Aviendha's face and her breasts."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I do not miss taking baths, she told herself."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was no soft wetlander. Still, a sweat tent wasn't truly necessary on this side of the mountains. There was no bitter cold at night, so the heat of the tent felt stifling, not comforting. And if water was plentiful enough for bathing...\n\nNo. She set her jaw. \"May I speak?\"\n\n\"Don't be foolish, girl,\" Melaine said. The woman was round in the belly, nearly to term. \"You're one of us now. No need to ask permission.\" Girl? It would take time for them to see her truly as one of them, but they did make an effort. Nobody ordered her to make tea or to throw water on the kettle. With no apprentice around and no gai'shain handy, they took turns doing these tasks.\n\n\"I am less concerned with whether the vision repeats,\" Aviendha said, \"than with what I was shown. Will it happen? Can we stop it?\"\n\n\"Rhuidean shows two types of vision,\" Kymer said. She was a younger woman, perhaps less than a decade Aviendha's senior, with deep red hair and along, tanned face. \"The first visit is what could be, the second, to the columns, what has happened.\"\n\n\"This third vision could be either,\" Amys said. \"The columns always show the past accurately; why would they not show the future with equal accuracy?\"\n\nAviendha's heart lurched.\n\n\"But why,\" Bair said softly, \"would the columns show a despair that cannot change? No. I refuse to believe it. Rhuidean has always shown us what we needed to see. To help us, not destroy us. This vision must have a purpose as well. To encourage us toward greater honor?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Its unimportant,\" Sorilea said curtly.\n\n\"But-\" Aviendha began.\n\n\"It's unimportant,\" Sorilea repeated. \"If this vision were unchangeable, if our destiny is to... fall... as you have spoken, would any of us stop fighting to change it?\"\n\nThe room grew still. Aviendha shook her head.\n\n\"We must treat it as if it can be changed,\" Sorilea said. \"Best not to dwell on your question, Aviendha. We must decide what course to take.\" Aviendha found herself nodding. \"I... Yes, yes, you are correct, Wise One.\"\n\n\"But what do we do?\" Kymer asked. \"What do we change? For now, the Last Battle must be won.\"\n\n\"Almost,\" Amys said, \"I wish for the vision to be unchangeable, for at least it proves we win this fight.\"\n\n\"It proves nothing,\" Sorilea said. \"Sightblinder's victory would break the Pattern, and so no vision of the future can be sure or trusted. Even with prophecies of what might happen in Ages to come, if Sightblinder wins this battle, all will become nothing.\"\n\n\"This vision I saw has to do with whatever Rand is planning,\" Aviendha said.\n\nThey turned to her.\n\n\"Tomorrow,\" she said. \"From what you've told me, he's preparing for an important revelation.\"\n\n\"The Car'a\"carn has a... fondness for dramatic presentations,\" Bair said, her tone itself fond. \"He's like a crockobur who has toiled all night making a nest so that he can sing of it in the morning to all who will listen.\"\n\nAviendha had been surprised to discover the gathering at Merrilor; she had found it only by using her bond to Rand al'Thor to determine where he was. Arriving hereto find so many together, the wet lander forces collected, she wondered if this was part of what she'd seen. Was this gathering the start of what would become her vision?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I feel as if I know more than I should.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She spoke almost to herself. \"You have had a deep glimpse of what the future may hold,\" Kymer said. \"It will change you, Aviendha.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow is key,\" Aviendha said. \"His plan.\"\n\n\"From what you said,\" Kymer replied, \"it sounds as if he intends to ignore the Aiel, his own people. Why would he give boons to everyone else, but not to those who are most deserving? Does he seek to insult us?\"\n\n\"I don't think that is the reason,\" Aviendha said. \"I think he intends to make demands of those who attend, not grant them gifts.\"\n\n\"He did mention a price,\" Bair said. \"A price he intends to make the others pay. No one has been able to pry the secret of this price from him.\" \"He went through a gateway to Tear earlier this evening and returned with something,\" Melaine said. \"The Maidens report it-he keeps his oath to bring them with him, now. When we have inquired after his price, he has said that it is something that the Aiel need not worry about.\"\n\nAviendha scowled. \"He is making men pay him in order to do what we all know he must? Perhaps he has been spending too much time with that minder the Sea Folk sent him.\"\n\n\"No, this is well,\" Amys said. \"These people demand much of the Car'a\"carn. He has aright to demand something of them in return. They are soft; perhaps he intends to make them hard.\"\n\n\"And so he leaves us out,\" Bair said softly, \"because he knows that we are already hard.\"\n\nThe tent fell silent. Amys, looking troubled, ladled some water onto the kettle's heated stones. It hissed as the steam rose."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"That is it,\" Sorilea said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He does not intend to insult us. He intends to do us honor, in his own eyes.\" She shook her head. \"He should know better.\" \"Often,\" Kymer agreed, \"the Car'a\"carn gives insult by accident, as if he were a child. We are strong, so his demand-whatever it is-matters not. If it is a price the others can pay, so can we.\"\n\n\"He would not make these mistakes if he had been trained properly in our ways,\" Sorilea murmured.\n\nAviendha met their eyes evenly. No, she had not trained him as well as he could have been trained-but they knew that Rand al'Thor was obstinate. Besides, she was their equal now. Although she had trouble feeling that way while facing Sorilea's tight-lipped disapproval.\n\nPerhaps it was spending so much time with wetlanders like Elayne, but suddenly, she did see things as Rand must. To give the Aiel an exemption from his price-if, indeed, that was what he intended-was an act of honor. If he had made a demand of them with the others, these very Wise Ones might have taken offense at being lumped with the wetlanders.\n\nWhat was he planning? She saw hints of it in the visions, but increasingly, she was certain that the next day would start the Aiel on the road to their doom.\n\nShe must see that did not happen. This washer first task as a Wise One, and would likely be the most important she was ever given. She would not fail.\n\n\"Her task was not just to teach him,\" Amys said. \"What I wouldn't give to know that he was safely under the watchful eyes of a good woman.\" She looked at Aviendha, face laden with meaning."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: A Memory of Light\nChapter: 22"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"That is it,\" Sorilea said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He does not intend to insult us. He intends to do us honor, in his own eyes.\" She shook her head. \"He should know better.\" \"Often,\" Kymer agreed, \"the Car'a\"carn gives insult by accident, as if he were a child. We are strong, so his demand-whatever it is-matters not. If it is a price the others can pay, so can we.\"\n\n\"He would not make these mistakes if he had been trained properly in our ways,\" Sorilea murmured.\n\nAviendha met their eyes evenly. No, she had not trained him as well as he could have been trained-but they knew that Rand al'Thor was obstinate. Besides, she was their equal now. Although she had trouble feeling that way while facing Sorilea's tight-lipped disapproval.\n\nPerhaps it was spending so much time with wetlanders like Elayne, but suddenly, she did see things as Rand must. To give the Aiel an exemption from his price-if, indeed, that was what he intended-was an act of honor. If he had made a demand of them with the others, these very Wise Ones might have taken offense at being lumped with the wetlanders.\n\nWhat was he planning? She saw hints of it in the visions, but increasingly, she was certain that the next day would start the Aiel on the road to their doom.\n\nShe must see that did not happen. This washer first task as a Wise One, and would likely be the most important she was ever given. She would not fail.\n\n\"Her task was not just to teach him,\" Amys said. \"What I wouldn't give to know that he was safely under the watchful eyes of a good woman.\" She looked at Aviendha, face laden with meaning."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He will be mine,\" Aviendha said, firmly. But not for you, Amys, or for our people. She was shocked at the strength of that sentiment within her. She was Aiel. Her people meant everything to her.\n\nBut this choice was not their choice. This choice washers.\n\n\"Be warned, Aviendha,\" Bair said, laying a hand on her wrist. \"He has changed since you left. He has grown strong.\"\n\nAviendha frowned. \"In what way?\"\n\n\"He has embraced death,\" Amys said, sounding proud. \"He may still carry a sword and wear the clothing of a wetlander, but he is ours now, finally and truly.\"\n\n\"I must see this,\" Aviendha said, standing. \"I will discover what I can regarding his plans.\"\n\n\"There is not much time remaining,\" Kymer warned.\n\n\"One night remains,\" Aviendha said. \"It will be enough.\"\n\nThe others nodded, and Aviendha started to dress. Unexpectedly, the others joined her, dressing as well. It appeared that they considered her news important enough that they would be going to share it with the other Wise Ones, rather than continuing to sit in conference.\n\nAviendha was the first to step out into the night; the cool air, away from the sweltering heat of the sweat tent, felt good on her skin. She took a deep breath. Her mind was heavy with fatigue, but sleep would need to wait.\n\nThe tent flaps rustled behind the other Wise Ones, Melaine and Amys speaking softly to one another as they hastened into the night. Kymer walked purposefully toward the Tomanelle section of the camp. Perhaps she would speak with her sister-father, Han, the Tomanelle chief."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aviendha started to move off herself, but a bony hand took her arm. She glanced over her shoulder to see Bair standing behind her, dressed again in blouse and skirt.\n\n\"Wise One,\" Aviendha said by reflex.\n\n\"Wise One,\" Bair replied with a smile.\n\n\"Is there something...\"\n\n\"I would go to Rhuidean,\" Bair said, glancing at the sky. \"Would you kindly make a gateway for me?\"\n\n\"You're going through the glass columns.\"\n\n\"One of us needs to. Despite what Amys said, Elenar is not ready, particularly not to see... something of this nature. That girl spends half of her days squawking like a buzzard over the last scrap of a rotting carcass.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Oh, don't you start, too. You're one of us now, Aviendha, but I'm still old enough to have tended your greatmother when she was a child.\" Bair shook her head; her white hair almost seemed to glow in the filtered moonlight. \"I am the best one to go,\" she continued. \"Channelers must be preserved for the battle to come. I would not have some child walk into those columns now. I will do it. Now, that gateway? Will you grant my request, or do I need to bully Amys into doing so?\"\n\nAviendha would have liked to see anyone bully Amys into anything. Maybe Sorilea could do it. She said nothing, however, and created the proper weave to open a gateway.\n\nThe thought of another seeing what she'd seen made her stomach twist. What would it mean if Bair returned with the exact same vision? Would that indicate the future was more likely?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It was that terrible, was it?\" Bair asked softly.\n\n\"Horrible. It would have made spears weep and stones crumble, Bair. I would rather have danced with Sightblinder himself.\"\n\n\"Then it is much better that I go than another. It should be the strongest of us who does this.\"\n\nAviendha stopped herself from raising an eyebrow. Bair was as tough as good leather, but the other Wise Ones weren't exactly flower petals. \"Bair,\" Aviendha said, a thought occurring to her. \"Have you ever meta woman named Nakomi?\"\n\n\"Nakomi.\" Bair tried the word in her mouth. \"An ancient name. I have never known anyone who uses it. Why?\"\n\n\"I met an Aiel woman while traveling to Rhuidean,\" Aviendha said. \"She claimed not to be a Wise One, but she had away about her...\" She shook her head. \"The question was merely idle curiosity.\"\n\n\"Well, we shall know some of the truth of these visions,\" Bair said, stepping toward the gateway.\n\n\"What if they are true, Bair?\" Aviendha found herself asking. \"What if there isn't anything we can do?\"\n\nBair turned. \"You saw your children, you said?\"\n\nAviendha nodded. She hadn't spoken in detail of that segment of the vision. It had seemed more personal to her.\n\n\"Change one of their names,\" Bair said. \"Never speak of the name that child was called in the vision, not even to us. Then you shall know. If one thing is different, then others maybe different as well. Will be different. This is not our fate, Aviendha. It is a path we will avoid. Together.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aviendha found herself nodding. Yes. A simple change, a small change, but full of meaning. \"Thank you, Bair.\"\n\nThe aging Wise One nodded to her, then stepped through the gateway, running in the night toward the city ahead.\n\nTalmanes threw his shoulder against a hulking, boar-faced Trolloc in crude chain armor. The beast smelled horrid, like smoke, wet fur and unwashed flesh. It grunted at the force of Talmanes' assault; the things always seemed surprised when he attacked them.\n\nTalmanes pulled back, ripping his sword out of the beast's side as it collapsed. He then lunged forward and rammed his sword into its throat, heedless of its ragged fingernails scratching at his legs. Life faded from the beady, too-human eyes.\n\nMen fought, called, grunted, killed. The street ran up a steep incline toward the Palace. Trolloc hordes had entrenched here, holding position and keeping the Band from reaching the top.\n\nTalmanes sagged against the side of a building-the one next to it was on fire, lighting the street with violent colors and bathing him in heat. Those fires seemed chilly compared to the flaring, horrible pain of his wound. The flare ran down his leg to his foot and was beginning to work its way across his shoulder.\n\nBlood and bloody ashes, he thought. What I'd give for another few hours with my pipe and book, alone and peaceful. The people who spoke of glorious death in battle were complete flaming fools. There was nothing glorious about dying in this mess of fire and blood. Give him a quiet death any day.\n\nTalmanes pushed himself backup to his feet, drops of sweat falling from his face. Below, Trollocs amassed themselves behind his rear position. They had closed the road behind Talmanes' force, but Talmanes was able to proceed, cutting through the Trollocs ahead."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Retreat would be difficult to pull off. As well as this roadway being full of Trollocs, fighting in the city meant that Trollocs could wind through the streets in small groups and attack his flanks, as they advanced and later when they retreated.\n\n\"Throw everything you've got at them, men!\" he bellowed, hurling himself up the street and into the Trollocs blocking the way up. The Palace was quite close now. He caught a goat-faced Trollocs sword on his shield right before it would have taken off Dennel's head. Talmanes tried to shove the beast's weapon back, but Light, Trollocs were strong. Talmanes barely kept this one from throwing him to the ground as Dennel recovered and attacked its thighs, bringing it down.\n\nMelten fell in beside Talmanes. The Borderlander was true to his word to stay close, in case Talmanes needed a sword to end his life. The two led the push up the hill. The Trollocs began to give, then rallied, a snarling, roaring heap of dark fur, eyes and weapons in the firelight.\n\nThere were so many of them\n\n\"Steady!\" Talmanes yelled. \"For Lord Mat and the Band of the Red Hand!\"\n\nIf Mat were here, he would probably curse a lot, complain as much, then proceed to save them all with some battlefield miracle. Talmanes couldn't reproduce Mat's blend of insanity and inspiration, but his yell did seem to encourage the men. The ranks tightened. Gavid arrayed his two dozen crossbowmen-the last Talmanes had with him-atop a building that hadn't burned away. They started driving flight after flight of bolts into the Trollocs.\n\nThat might have broken human enemies, but not Trollocs. The bolts dropped a few, but not as many as Talmanes would have hoped."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There's another Fade back there, Talmanes thought. Pushing them forward. Light, I can't fight another. I shouldn't have fought the one I did!\n\nHe shouldn't be on his feet. Melten's flask of brandy was gone, long since drained to deaden what it could. His mind was already as fuzzy as he dared allow. He fell in with Dennel and Londraed at the front, fighting, concentrating. Letting Trolloc blood out onto the cobbles to stream down the hillside.\n\nThe Band gave a good fight of it, but they were outnumbered and exhausted. Down below, another Trolloc fist joined the ones on the street behind him.\n\nThat was it. He would have to either hit that force behind-turning his back on the one in front-or break his men into smaller units and send them retreating through side streets to regroup at the gate below.\n\nTalmanes prepared to give the orders.\n\n\"Forward the White Lion!\" voices yelled. \"For Andor and the Queen!\" Talmanes spun as men in white and red broke through the Trolloc lines atop the hill. A second force of Andoran pikemen poured out of aside alleyway, coming in behind the Trolloc horde that had just surrounded him. The Trollocs broke before the oncoming pikemen, and in moments the entire mass-like a pus-filled blister-burst, Trollocs scattering in all directions.\n\nTalmanes stumbled back. Momentarily he had to prop himself up with his sword as Madwin took command of the counterstrike and his men killed many of the fleeing Trollocs.\n\nA group of officers in bloodied Queens Guard uniforms rushed down the hillside; they didn't look any better than the Band. Guybon led them. \"Mercenary,\" he said to Talmanes, \"I thank you for showing up.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Talmanes frowned. \"You act as if we saved you. From my perspective, it happened the other way around.\"\n\nGuybon grimaced in the firelight. \"You gave us some respite; those Trollocs were attacking the Palace gates. I apologize for taking so long to reach you-we didn't realize, at first, what had drawn them in this direction.\" \"Light. The Palace still stands?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Guybon said. \"We're full of refugees, though.\"\n\n\"What of channelers?\" Talmanes asked, hopeful. \"Why haven't the Andoran armies returned with the Queen?\"\n\n\"Darkfriends.\" Guybon frowned. \"Her Majesty took most of the Kinswomen with her, the strongest ones at least. She left four with enough power to make a gateway together, but-the attack-an assassin killed two of them before the other two could stop him. Alone, the two aren't strong enough to send for help. They're using their strength to Heal.\"\n\n\"Blood and bloody ashes,\" Talmanes said, though he felt a stab of hope as he said it. Perhaps these women could not make a gateway, but they might be able to Heal his wound. \"You should lead the refugees out of the city, Guybon. My men hold the southern gate.\"\n\n\"Excellent,\" Guybon said, straightening. \"But you will have to lead the refugees. I must defend the Palace.\"\n\nTalmanes raised an eyebrow at him; he didn't take orders from Guybon. The Band had its own command structure, and reported only to the Queen. Mat had made that clear when accepting the contract.\n\nUnfortunately, Guybon didn't take orders from Talmanes, either. Talmanes took a deep breath, but then wavered, dizzy. Melten grabbed his arm to keep him from toppling over."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Light, but it hurt. Couldn't his side just do the decent thing and grow numb? Blood and bloody ashes. He needed to get to those Kinswomen. Talmanes said hopefully, \"Those two women who can Heal?\"\n\n\"I have sent for them already,\" Guybon said. \"As soon as we saw this force here.\"\n\nWell, that was something.\n\n\"I do mean to stay here,\" Guybon warned. \"I wont abandon this post.\" \"Why? The city is lost, man!\"\n\n\"The Queen ordered us to send regular reports through gateways,\" Guybon said. \"Eventually, she's going to wonder why we haven't sent a messenger. She will send a channeler to see why we haven't reported, and that messenger will arrive at the Palace's Traveling ground. It-\"\n\n\"My Lord!\" a voice called. \"My Lord Talmanes!\"\n\nGuybon cutoff, and Talmanes turned to find Filger-one of the scouts-scrambling up the bloodied cobbles of the hillside toward him. Filger was a lean man with thinning hair and a couple of days'worth of scruff, and the sight of him filled Talmanes with dread. Filger was one of those they'd left guarding the city gate below.\n\n\"My Lord,\" Filger said, panting, \"the Trollocs have taken the city walls. They're packing the ramparts, loosing arrows or spears at anyone who draws too close. Lieutenant Sandip sent me to bring you word.\"\n\n\"Blood and ashes! What of the gate?\"\n\n\"We're holding,\" Filger said. \"For now.\"\n\n\"Guybon,\" Talmanes said, turning back. \"Show some mercy, man; someone needs to defend that gate. Please, take the refugees out and reinforce my men. That gate will be our only method of retreat from the city.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But the Queen's messenger-\"\n\n\"The Queen will figure out what bloody happened once she thinks to look here. Look about you! Trying to defend the Palace is madness. You don't have a city any longer, but a pyre.\"\n\nGuybon's face was conflicted, his lips a tight line.\n\n\"You know I'm right,\" Talmanes said, his face twisted in pain. \"The best thing you can do is reinforce my men at the southern gate to hold it open for as many refugees as can reach it.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Guybon said. \"But to let the Palace burn?\"\n\n\"You can make it worth something,\" Talmanes said. \" What if you left some soldiers to fight at the Palace? Have them hold off the Trollocs as long as they can. That will draw the Trollocs away from the people escaping out this way. When they can hold no longer, your soldiers can escape\n\nthe Palace grounds on the far side, and make their way around to the southern gate.\"\n\n\"A good plan,\" Guybon said, grudgingly. \"I will do as you suggest, but what of you?\"\n\n\"I have to get to the dragons,\" Talmanes said. \"We cant let them fall to the Shadow. They're in a warehouse near the edge of the Inner City. The Queen wanted them kept out of sight, away from the mercenary bands outside. I have to find them. If possible, retrieve them. If not, destroy them.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Guybon said, turning away, looking frustrated as he accepted the inevitable. \" My men will do as you suggest; half will lead the refugees out, then help your soldiers hold the southern gate. The other half will hold the Palace a little longer, then withdraw. But I'm coming with you."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do we really need so many lamps inhere?\" the Aes Sedai demanded from her stool at the back of the room. It might as well have been a throne. \"Think of the oil you're wasting.\"\n\n\"We need the lamps.\" Androl grunted. Night rain pelted the window, but he ignored it, trying to focus on the leather he was sewing. It would be a saddle. At the moment, he was working on the girth that would go around the horse's belly.\n\nHe poked holes into the leather in a double row, letting the work calm him. The stitching chisel he used made diamond-shaped holes-he could use the mallet on them for speed, if he wanted, but right now he liked the feel of pressing the holes without it.\n\nHe picked up his stitch-mark wheel, measuring off the locations for the next stitches, then worked another of the holes. You had to line the flat sides of the diamonds toward one another for holes like this, so that when the leather pulled, it didn't pull on the flats. The neat stiches would help keep the saddle in good shape over the years. The rows needed to be close enough together to reinforce one another, but not so close that there was danger of them ripping into one another. Staggering the holes helped.\n\nLittle things. You just had to make sure the little things were done right, and-\n\nHis fingers slipped, and he punched a hole with the diamond pointing the wrong way. Two of the holes ripped into one another at the motion.\n\nHe nearly tossed the entire thing across the room in frustration. That\n\nwas the fifth time tonight!\n\nLight, he thought, pressing his hands on the table. What's happened to my\n\nself-control?"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could answer that question with ease, unfortunately. The Black Tower is what happened. He felt like a multilegged nachi trapped in a dried-up tidal pool, waiting desperately for the water to return while watching a group of children work their way down the beach with buckets, gathering up anything that looked tasty...\n\nHe breathed in and out, then picked up the leather. This would be the shoddiest piece he'd done in years, but he would finish it. Leaving something unfinished was nearly as bad as messing up the details.\n\n\"Curious,\" said the Aes Sedai-her name was Pevara, of the Red Ajah. He could feel her eyes on his back.\n\nA Red. Well, common destinations made for unusual shipmates, as the old Tairen saying went. Perhaps he should use the Saldaean proverb instead. If his sword is at your enemy's throat, don't waste time remembering when it was at yours.\n\n\"So,\" Pevara said, \"you were telling me about your life prior to coming to the Black Tower?\"\n\n\"I don't believe that I was,\" Androl said, beginning to sew. \"Why? What did you want to know?\"\n\n\"I'm simply curious. Were you one of those who came hereon his own, to be tested, or were you one of those they found while out hunting?\"\n\nHe pulled a thread tight. \"I came on my own, as I believe Evin told you yesterday, when you asked him about me.\"\n\n\"Hmmm,\" she said. \"I'm being monitored, I see.\"\n\nHe looked toward her, lowering the leather. \"Is that something they teach you?\"\n\n\"What?\" Pevara asked innocently.\n\n\"To twist a conversation about. There you sit, all but accusing me of spying on you-when you were the one interrogating my friends about me.\" \"I want to know what my resources are.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You want to know why a man would choose to come to the Black Tower. To learn to channel the One Power.\"\n\nShe didn't answer. He could see her deciding upon a response that would not run afoul of the Three Oaths. Speaking with an Aes Sedai was like trying to follow a green snake as it slipped through damp grass.\n\n\"Yes,\" she said.\n\nHe blinked in surprise.\n\n\"Yes, I want to know,\" she continued. \"We are allies, whether either of us desires it or not. I want to know what kind of person I've slipped into bed with.\" She eyed him. \" Figuratively speaking, of course.\n\nHe took a deep breath, forcing himself to become calm. He hated talking with Aes Sedai, with them twisting everything about. That, mixed with the tension of the night and the inability to get this saddle right...\n\nHe would becalm, Light burn him!\n\n\"We should practice making a circle,\" Pevara said. \"It will bean advantage to us-albeit a small one-against Taim's men, should they come for us.\"\n\nAndrol put his dislike of the woman from his mind-he had other things to worry about-and forced himself to think objectively. \"A circle?\"\n\n\"Do you not know what one is?\"\n\n\"Afraid not.\"\n\nShe pursed her lips. \"Sometimes I forget how ignorant all of you are...\" She paused, as if realizing she'd said too much.\n\n\"All men are ignorant, Aes Sedai,\" Androl said. \"The topics of our ignorance may change, but the nature of the world is that no man may know everything.\"\n\nThat didn't seem to be the answer she'd been expecting, either. Those hard eyes studied him. She didn't like men who could channel-most people didn't-but with her it was more. She had spent her life hunting down men like Androl."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"A circle,\" Pevara said, \"is created when women and men join their strength in the One Power together."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It must be done in a specific way.\"\n\n\"The M'Hael will know about it, then.\"\n\n\"Men require women to form a circle,\" Pevara said. \"In fact, a circle must contain more women than men except in very limited cases. One woman and man can link, as can one woman and two men, as can two women and two men. So the largest we could create is a circle of three, with me and two of you. Still, it could be of use to us.\"\n\n\"I'll find you two of the others to practice with,\" Androl said. \"Among those I trust, I'd say that Nalaam is the strongest. Emarin is very powerful too, and I don't think he's yet reached the height of his strength. Same for Jonneth.\"\n\n\"They are the strongest?\" Pevara asked. \"Not yourself?\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, returning to his work. That rain picked up again outside, and chill air slipped under the door. One of the room's lamps was burning low nearby, letting shadows into the room. He watched the darkness uncomfortably.\n\n\"I find that hard to believe, Master Androl,\" she said. \"They all look to you.\"\n\n\"Believe what you wish, Aes Sedai. I'm weakest among them. Perhaps the weakest man in the Black Tower.\"\n\nThis quieted her, and Androl rose to refill that dwindling lamp. Ashe sat back down, a rap on the door announced the entrance of Emarin and Canler. Although both were wet from the rain, they were nearly as opposite as men could be. One was tall, refined and careful, the other crotchety and prone to gossip. They had found common ground, somewhere, and seemed to enjoy one another's company."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well?\" Androl asked.\n\n\"It might work,\" Emarin said, taking off his rain-soaked coat and hanging it on a hook beside the door. He wore clothing underneath embroidered after the Tairen style. \"It would need to be a powerful rainstorm. The guards watch carefully.\"\n\n\"I feel like the prize bull at a fair,\" Canler grumbled, stomping some of the mud off his boots after hanging up his coat. \"Everywhere we go, Taim's favored watch us from the corners of their eyes. Blood and ashes, Androl. They know. They know we're going to try running.\"\n\n\"Did you find any weak points?\" Pevara asked, leaning forward. \"Someplace where the walls are less guarded?\"\n\n\"It appears to depend upon the guards chosen, Pevara Sedai,\" Emarin said, nodding to her.\n\n\"Hmm... I suppose that it would. Have I mentioned how intriguing I find it that the one of you who treats me with the most respect is a Tairen?\"\n\n\"Being polite to a person is not a sign of respect for them, Pevara Sedai,\" Emarin said. \"It is merely a sign of a good upbringing and a balanced nature.\"\n\nAndrol smiled. Emarin was an absolute wonder with insults. Half the time, the person didn't figure out that he'd been mocked until they'd parted ways.\n\nPevara's mouth pursed. \"Well, then. We watch the rotation of guards. When the next storm arrives, we will use it as cover and escape over the wall near the guards we think are less observant.\"\n\nThe two men turned to Androl, who caught himself watching the corner of the room where the shadow fell from a table. Was it growing larger? Reaching toward him..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I don't like leaving men behind,\" he said, forcing himself to look away from the corner."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There are dozens upon dozens of men and boys here who aren't yet under Taim's control. We can't possibly lead all of them out without drawing attention. If we leave them, we risk...\"\n\nHe couldn't say it. They didn't know what was happening, not really. People were changing. Once-trustworthy allies became enemies overnight.\n\nThey looked like the same people, yet different at the same time. Different behind the eyes. Androl shivered.\n\n\"The women sent by the rebel Aes Sedai are still outside the gates,\" Pevara said. They had been camped out therefor a time, claiming the Dragon Reborn had promised them Warders. Taim had yet to let any of them in. \"If we can reach them, we can storm the Tower and rescue those left behind.\"\n\n\"Will it really be that easy?\" Emarin asked. \"Taim will have an entire village of hostages. A lot of the men brought their families.\"\n\nCanler nodded. His family was one of those. He wouldn't willingly leave them.\n\n\"Beyond that,\" Androl said softly, turning on his stool to face Pevara, \"do you honestly think the Aes Sedai can win here?\"\n\n\"Many of them have decades-some centuries-of experience.\"\n\n\"How much of that was spent fighting?\"\n\nPevara did not answer.\n\n\"There are hundreds of men who can channel inhere, Aes Sedai,\" Androl continued. \"Each one has been trained-at length-to be a weapon. We don't learn about politics or history. We don't study how to influence nations. We learn to kill. Every man and boy here is pushed to the edges of his capacity, forced to stretch and grow. Gain more power. Destroy. And a lot of them are insane. Can your Aes Sedai fight that? Particularly when many of the men we trust-the very men we're trying to save-will likely fight alongside Taim's men if they seethe Aes Sedai trying to invade?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your arguments are not without merit,\" Pevara said.\n\nJust like a queen, he thought, unwillingly impressed at her poise.\n\n\"But surely we need to send information out,\" Pevara continued. \"An all-out assault maybe unwise, but sitting here until we are all taken, one at a time. .\"\n\n\"I do believe it would be wise to send someone,\" Emarin said. \"We need to warn the Lord Dragon.\"\n\n\"The Lord Dragon,\" Canler said with a snort, taking a seat by the wall. \"He's abandoned us, Emarin. We're nothing to him. It-\"\n\n\"The Dragon Reborn carries the world on his shoulders, Canler,\" Androl said softly, catching Canler up short. \"I don't know why he's left us here, but I'd prefer to assume it's because he thinks we can handle ourselves.\" Androl fingered the straps of leather, then stood up. \" This is our time of proving, the test of the Black Tower. If we have to run to the Aes Sedai to protect us from our own, we subject ourselves to their authority. If\n\nwe have to run to the Lord Dragon, then we will be nothing once he is gone.\"\n\n\"There can be no reconciliation with Taim, now,\" Emarin said. \"We all know what he is doing.\"\n\nAndrol didn't look at Pevara. She had explained what she suspected was happening, and she-despite years of training at keeping her emotions in check-had not been able to quiet the fear in her voice as she spoke of it. Thirteen Myrddraal and thirteen channelers, together in a horrifying rite, could turn any channeler to the Shadow. Against his will. \"What he does is pure, undiluted evil,\" Pevara said. \"This is no longer a division between the men who follow one leader and those who follow another. This is the Dark One's work, Androl. The Black Tower has fallen under the Shadow. You must accept that.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Black Tower is a dream,\" he said, meeting her eyes. \"A shelter for men who can channel, a place of our own, where men need not fear, or run, or be hated. I will not surrender that to Taim. I will not.\"\n\nThe room fell silent save for the sounds of rain on the windows. Emarin began to nod, and Canler stood up, taking Androl by the arm.\n\n\"You're right,\" Canler said. \"Burn me if you ain't right, Androl. But what can we do? We're weak, outnumbered.\"\n\n\"Emarin,\" Androl said, \"did you ever hear about the Knoks Rebellion?\" \"Indeed. It caused quite astir, even outside of Murandy.\"\n\n\"Bloody Murandians,\" Canler spat. \"They'll steal your coat off your back and beat you bloody if you don't offer your shoes, too.\"\n\nEmarin raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"Knoks was well outside Lugard, Canler,\" Androl said. \"I think you d find the people there not dissimilar to Andorans. The rebellion happened about... oh, ten years back, now.\"\n\n\"A group of farmers overthrew their lord,\" Emarin said. \"He deserved it, by all accounts-Desartin was a horrid person, particularly to those beneath him. He had a force of soldiers, one of the largest outside of Lugard, and was looking as if he'd setup his own little kingdom. There wasn't a thing the King could do about it.\"\n\n\"And Desartin was overthrown?\" Canler asked.\n\n\"By simple men and women who had had too much of his brutality, Androl said.\" In the end, many of the mercenaries who had been his cronies stood with us. Though he'd seemed so strong, his rotten core led to his downfall. It seems bad here, but most of Taim's men are not loyal to him. Men like him don't inspire loyalty. They collect cronies, others who hope to share in the power or wealth. We can and will find away to overthrow him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The others nodded, though Pevara simply watched him with pursed lips. Androl couldn't help feeling a bit of the fool; he didn't think the others should be looking to him, instead of someone distinguished like Emarin or someone powerful like Nalaam.\n\nFrom the corner of his eye, he saw the shadows underneath the table lengthen, reaching for him. He set his jaw. They wouldn't dare take him with so many people around, would they? If the shadows were going to consume him, they'd wait until he was alone, trying to sleep.\n\nNights terrified him.\n\nThey're coming when I don't hold to saidin now, he thought. Burn me, the Source was cleansed! I'm not supposed to be losing more of my wits!\n\nHe gripped the seat of his stool until the terror retreated, the darkness withdrawing. Canler-looking uncharacteristically cheerful-said he was going to fetch them something to drink. He wandered toward the kitchen, but nobody was to go about alone, so he hesitated.\n\n\"I suppose I could use a drink as well,\" Pevara said with a sigh, joining him.\n\nAndrol sat down to continue his work. Ashe did, Emarin pulled over a stool, settling down beside him. He did so nonchalantly, as if merely looking fora good place to relax and wanting a view out the window.\n\nEmarin, however, wasn't the type to do things without several motivations. \"You fought in the Knoks Rebellion,\" Emarin said softly.\n\n\"Did I say that?\" Androl resumed his work on the leather.\n\n\"You said that when the mercenaries switched sides, they fought with you. You used the word \"us\" to refer to the rebels.\"\n\nAndrol hesitated. Burn me. I really need to watch ynyself If Emarin had noticed, Pevara would have as well."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I was just passing through,\" Androl said, \"and was caught up in something unanticipated.\"\n\n\"You have a strange and varied past, my friend,\" Emarin said. \"The more I learn of it, the more curious I become.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't say that I'm the only one with an interesting past,\" Androl said softly. \"Lord Algarin of House Pendaloan.\"\n\nEmarin pulled back, eyes widening. \"How did you know?\"\n\n\"Fanshir had a book of Tairen noble lines,\" Androl said, mentioning one of the Asha'man soldiers who had been a scholar before coming to the\n\nTower. \"It included a curious notation. A house troubled by a history of men with an unmentionable problem, the most recent one having shamed the house not a few dozen years ago.\"\n\n\"I see. Well, I suppose that it is not too much of a surprise that I am a nobleman.\"\n\n\"One who has experience with Aes Sedai,\" Androl continued, \"and who treats them with respect, despite-or because of-what they did for his family. A Tairen nobleman who does this, mind you. One who does not mind serving beneath what you would term farmboys, and who sympathizes with citizen rebels. If I might say, my friend, that is not a prevalent attitude among your countrymen. I wouldn't hesitate to guess you've had an interesting past of your own.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 2"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "PROLOGUE\n\nThe day was grey and bitter cold, and the dogs would not take the scent.\n\nThe big black bitch had taken one sniff at the bear tracks, backed off, and skulked back to the pack with her tail between her legs. The dogs huddled together miserably on the riverbank as the wind snapped at them. Chett felt it too, biting through his layers of black wool and boiled leather. It was too bloody cold for manor beast, but here they were. His mouth twisted, and he could almost feel the boils that covered his cheeks and neck growing red and angry. I should be safe back at the Wall, tending the bloody ravens and making fires for old Maester Aemon. It was the bastard Jon Snow who had taken that from him, him and his fat friend Sam Tarly. It was their fault he was here, freezing his bloody balls off with a pack of hounds deep in the haunted forest.\n\n\"Seven hells.\" He gave the leashes a hard yank to get the dogs'attention. \"Track, you bastards. That's a bear print. You want some meat or no? Find!\" But the hounds only huddled closer, whining. Chett snapped his short lash above their heads, and the black bitch snarled at him. \"Dog meat would taste as good as bear,\" he warned her, his breath frosting with every word.\n\nLark the Sisterman stood with his arms crossed over his chest and his hands tucked up into his armpits. He wore black wool gloves, but he was always complaining how his fingers were frozen. \"It's too bloody cold to hunt,\" he said. \"Bugger this bear, he's not worth freezing over.\"\n\n\"We can't go back emptyhand, Lark,\" rumbled Small Paul through the brown whiskers that covered most of his face. \"The Lord Commander wouldn't like that.\" There was ice under the big man's squashed pug nose, where his snot had frozen. A huge hand in a thick fur glove clenched tight around the shaft of a spear."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bugger that Old Bear too,\" said the Sisterman, a thin man with sharp features and nervous eyes. \"Mormont will be dead before daybreak, remember? Who cares what he likes?\"\n\nSmall Paul blinked his black little eyes. Maybe he had forgotten, Chett thought; he was stupid enough to forget most anything. \"Why do we have to kill the Old Bear? Why don't we just go off and let him be?\"\n\n\"You think he'll let us be?\" said Lark. \"He'll hunt us down. You want to be hunted, you great muttonhead?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Small Paul. \"I don't want that. I don't.\"\n\n\"So you'll kill him?\" said Lark.\n\n\"Yes.\" The huge man stamped the butt of his spear on the frozen riverbank. \"I will. He shouldn't hunt us.\"\n\nThe Sisterman took his hands from his armpits and turned to Chett. \"We need to kill all the officers, I say.\"\n\nChett was sick of hearing it. \"We been over this. The Old Bear dies, and Blane from the Shadow Tower. Grubbs and Aethan as well, their ill luck for drawing the watch, Dywen and Bannen for their tracking, and Ser Piggy for the ravens. That's all. We kill them quiet, while they sleep. One scream and we're wormfood, everyone of us.\" His boils were red with rage. \"Just do your bit and see that your cousins do theirs. And Paul, try and remember, it's third watch, not second.\"\n\n\"Third watch,\" the big man said, through hair and frozen snot. \"Me and Softfoot. I remember, Chett.\"\n\nThe moon would be black tonight, and they had jiggered the watches so as to have eight of their own standing sentry, with two more guarding the horses. It wasn't going to get much riper than that. Besides, the wildlings could be upon them any day now. Chett meant to be well away from here before that happened. He meant to live."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Three hundred sworn brothers of the Night's Watch had ridden north, two hundred from Castle Black and another hundred from the Shadow Tower. It was the biggest ranging in living memory, near a third of the Watch's strength. They meant to find Ben Stark, Ser Waymar Royce, and the other rangers who'd gone missing, and discover why the wildlings were leaving their villages. Well, they were no closer to Stark and Royce than when they'd left the Wall, but they'd learned where all the wildlings had gone-up into the icy heights of the godsforsaken Frostfangs. They could squat up there till the end of time and it wouldn't prick Chett's boils none.\n\nBut no. They were coming down. Down the Milkwater.\n\nChett raised his eyes and there it was. The river's stony banks were bearded by ice, its pale milky waters flowing endlessly down out of the Frostfangs. And now Mance Rayder and his wildlings were flowing down the same way. Thoren Smallwood had returned in a lather three days past. While he was telling the Old Bear what his scouts had seen, his man Kedge Whiteye told the rest of them. \"They're still well up the foothills, but they're coming,\" Kedge said, warming his hands over the fire. \"Harma the Dogshead has the van, the poxy bitch. Goady crept upon her camp and saw her plain by the fire. That fool Tumberjon wanted to pick her off with an arrow, but Smallwood had better sense.\"\n\nChett spat. \"How many were there, could you tell?\"\n\n\"Many and more. Twenty, thirty thousand, we didn't stay to count. Harma had five hundred in the van, everyone ahorse.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The men around the fire exchanged uneasy looks. It was a rare thing to find even a dozen mounted wildlings, and five hundred...\n\n\"Smallwood sent Bannen and me wide around the van to catch a peek at the main body,\" Kedge went on. \"There was no end of them. They're moving slow as a frozen river, four, five miles a day, but they don't look like they mean to go back to their villages neither. More'n half were women and children, and they were driving their animals before them, goats, sheep, even aurochs dragging sledges. They'd loaded up with bales of fur and sides of meat, cages of chickens, butter churns and spinning wheels, every damn thing they own. The mules and garrons was so heavy laden you'd think their backs would break. The women as well.\"\n\n\"And they follow the Milkwater?\" Lark the Sisterman asked.\n\n\"I said so, didn't I?\"\n\nThe Milkwater would take them past the Fist of the First Men, the ancient ringfort where the Night's Watch had made its camp. Any man with a thimble of sense could see that it was time to pull up stakes and fallback on the Wall. The Old Bear had strengthened the Fist with spikes and pits and caltrops, but against such a host all that was pointless. If they stayed here, they would be engulfed and overwhelmed.\n\nAnd Thoren Smallwood wanted to attack. Sweet Donnel Hill was squire to Ser Mallador Locke, and the night before last Smallwood had come to Locke's tent. Ser Mallador had been of the same mind as old Ser Ottyn Wythers, urging a retreat on the Wall, but Smallwood wanted to convince him otherwise. \"This King-beyond-the-Wall will never look for us so far north,\" Sweet Donnel reported him saying. \"And this great host of his is a shambling horde, full of useless mouths who won't know what end of a sword to hold. One blow will take all the fight out of them and send them howling back to their hovels for another fifty years.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Three hundred against thirty thousand. Chett called that rank madness, and what was madder still was that Ser Mallador had been persuaded, and the two of them together were on the point of persuading the Old Bear. \"If we wait too long, this chance maybe lost, never to come again,\" Smallwood was saying to anyone who would listen. Against that, Ser Ottyn Wythers said, \"We are the shield that guards the realms of men. You do not throwaway your shield for no good purpose,\" but to that Thoren Smallwood said, \"Ina swordfight, a man's surest defense is the swift stroke that slays his foe, not cringing behind a shield.\"\n\nNeither Smallwood nor Wythers had the command, though. Lord Mormont did, and Mormont was waiting for his other scouts, for Jarman Buckwell and the men who'd climbed the Giant's Stair, and for Qhorin Halfhand and Jon Snow, who'd gone to probe the Skirling Pass. Buckwell and the Halfhand were late in returning, though. Dead, most like. Chett pictured Jon Snow lying blue and frozen on some bleak mountaintop with a wildling spear up his bastard's arse. The thought made him smile. I hope they killed his bloody wolf as well.\n\n\"There's no bear here,\" he decided abruptly. \"Just an old print, that's all. Back to the Fist.\" The dogs almost yanked him off his feet, as eager to get back as he was. Maybe they thought they were going to get fed. Chett had to laugh. He hadn't fed them for three days now, to turn them mean and hungry. Tonight, before slipping off into the dark, he'd turn them loose among the horse lines, after Sweet Donnel Hill and Clubfoot Karl cut the tethers. They'll have snarling hounds and panicked horses allover the Fist, running through fires, jumping the ringwall, and trampling down tents. With all the confusion, it might be hours before anyone noticed that fourteen brothers were missing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lark had wanted to bring in twice that number, but what could you expect from some stupid fishbreath Sisterman? Whisper a word in the wrong ear and before you knew it you'd be short ahead. No, fourteen was a good number, enough to do what needed doing but not so many that they couldn't keep the secret. Chett had recruited most of them himself. Small Paul was one of his; the strongest man on the Wall, even if he was slower than a dead snail. He'd once broken a wildling's back with a hug. They had Dirk as well, named for his favorite weapon, and the little grey man the brothers called Softfoot, who'd raped a hundred women in his youth, and liked to boast how none had ever seen nor heard him until he shoved it up inside them.\n\nThe plan was Chett's. He was the clever one; he'd been steward to old Maester Aemon for four good years before that bastard Jon Snow had done him out so his job could be handed to his fat pig of a friend. When he killed Sam Tarly tonight, he planned to whisper, \"Give my love to Lord Snow,\" right in his ear before he sliced Ser Piggy's throat open to let the blood come bubbling out through all those layers of suet. Chett knew the ravens, so he wouldn't have no trouble there, no more than he would with Tarly. One touch of the knife and that craven would piss his pants and start blubbering for his life. Let him beg, it won't do him no good. After he opened his throat, he'd open the cages and shoo the birds away, so no messages reached the Wall. Softfoot and Small Paul would kill the Old Bear, Dirk would do Blane, and Lark and his cousins would silence Bannen and old Dywen, to keep them from sniffing after their trail. They'd been caching food fora fortnight, and Sweet Donnel and Clubfoot Karl would have the horses ready. With Mormont dead, command would pass to Ser Ottyn Wythers, an old done man, and failing. He'll be running for the Wall before sundown, and he won't waste no men sending them after us neither."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The dogs pulled at him as they made their way through the trees."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Chett could seethe Fist punching its way up through the green. The day was so dark that the Old Bear had the torches lit, a great circle of them burning all along the ringwall that crowned the top of the steep stony hill. The three of them waded across a brook. The water was icy cold, and patches of ice were spreading across its surface. \"I'm going to make for the coast,\" Lark the Sisterman confided. \"Me and my cousins. We'll build us a boat, sail back home to the Sisters.\"\n\nAnd at home they'll know you for deserters and lop off your fool heads, thought Chett. There was no leaving the Night's Watch, once you said your words. Anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms, they'd take you and kill you.\n\nOllo Lophand now, he was talking about sailing back to Tyrosh, where he claimed men didn't lose their hands fora bit of honest thievery, nor get sent off to freeze their life away for being found in bed with some knight's wife. Chett had weighed going with him, but he didn't speak their wet girly tongue. And what could he do in Tyrosh? He had no trade to speak of, growing up in Hag's Mire. His father had spent his life grubbing in other men's fields and collecting leeches. He'd strip down bare but fora thick leather clout, and go wading in the murky waters. When he climbed out he'd be covered from nipple to ankle. Sometimes he made Chett help pull the leeches off. One had attached itself to his palm once, and he'd smashed it against a wall in revulsion. His father beat him bloody for that. The maesters bought the leeches at twelve-for-a-penny.\n\nLark could go home if he liked, and the damn Tyroshi too, but not Chett. If he never saw Hag's Mire again, it would be too bloody soon. He had liked the look of Craster's Keep, himself. Craster lived high as a lord there, so why shouldn't he do the same? That would be a laugh. Chett the leechman's son, a lord with a keep. His banner could be a dozen leeches on afield of pink. But why stop at lord? Maybe he should be a king. Mance Rayder started out a crow. I could be a king same as him, and have me some wives. Craster had nineteen, not even counting the young ones, the daughters he hadn't gotten around to bedding yet. Half them wives were as old and ugly as Craster, but that didn't matter. The old ones Chett could put to work cooking and cleaning for him, pulling carrots and slopping pigs, while the young ones warmed his bed and bore his children. Craster wouldn't object, not once Small Paul gave him a hug."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The only women Chett had ever known were the whores he'd bought in Mole's Town."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he'd been younger, the village girls took one look at his face, with its boils and its wen, and turned away sickened. The worst was that slattern Bessa. She'd spread her legs for every boy in Hag's Mire so he'd figured why not him too? He even spent a morning picking wildflowers when he heard she liked them, but she'd just laughed in his face and told him she'd crawl in abed with his father's leeches before she'd crawl in one with him. She stopped laughing when he put his knife in her. That was sweet, the look on her face, so he pulled the knife out and put it in her again. When they caught him down near Sevenstreams, old Lord Walder Frey hadn't even bothered to come himself to do the judging. He'd sent one of his bastards, that Walder Rivers, and the next thing Chett had known he was walking to the Wall with that foul-smelling black devil Yoren. To pay for his one sweet moment, they took his whole life.\n\nBut now he meant to take it back, and Craster's women too. That twisted old wildling has the right of it. If you want a woman to wife you take her, and none of this giving her flowers so that maybe she don't notice your bloody boils. Chett didn't mean to make that mistake again.\n\nIt would work, he promised himself for the hundredth time. So long as we getaway clean. Ser Ottyn would strike south for the Shadow Tower, the shortest way to the Wall. He won't bother with us, not Wythers, all he'll want is to get back whole. Thoren Smallwood now, he'd want to press on with the attack, but Ser Ottyn's caution ran too deep, and he was senior. It won't matter anyhow. Once we're gone, Smallwood can attack anyone he likes. What do we care? If none of them ever returns to the Wall, no one will ever come looking for us, they'll think we died with the rest. That was anew thought, and fora moment it tempted him. But they would need to kill Ser Ottyn and Ser Mallador Locke as well to give Smallwood the command, and both of them were well-attended day and night... no, the risk was too great."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Chett,\" said Small Paul as they trudged along a stony game trail through sentinels and soldier pines, \"what about the bird?\"\n\n\"What bloody bird?\" The last thing he needed now was some mutton-head going on about a bird.\n\n\"The Old Bear's raven,\" Small Paul said. \"If we kill him, who's going to feed his bird?\"\n\n\"Who bloody well cares? Kill the bird too if you like.\"\n\n\"I don't want to hurt no bird,\" the big man said. \"But that's a talking bird. What if it tells what we did?\"\n\nLark the Sisterman laughed. \"Small Paul, thick as a castle wall,\" he mocked.\n\n\"You shut up with that,\" said Small Paul dangerously.\n\n\"Paul,\" said Chett, before the big man got too angry, \"when they find the old man lying in a pool of blood with his throat slit, they won't need no bird to tell them someone killed him.\"\n\nSmall Paul chewed on that a moment. \"That's true,\" he allowed. \"Can I keep the bird, then? I like that bird.\"\n\n\"He's yours,\" said Chett, just to shut him up.\n\n\"We can always eat him if we get hungry,\" offered Lark.\n\nSmall Paul clouded up again. \"Best not try and eat my bird, Lark. Best not.\"\n\nChett could hear voices drifting through the trees. \"Close your bloody mouths, both of you. We're almost to the Fist.\"\n\nThey emerged near the west face of the hill, and walked around south where the slope was gentler. Near the edge of the forest a dozen men were taking archery practice. They had carved outlines on the trunks of trees, and were loosing shafts at them. \"Look,\" said Lark. \"A pig with a bow.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sure enough, the nearest bowman was Ser Piggy himself, the fat boy who had stolen his place with Maester Aemon. Just the sight of Samwell Tarly filled him with anger. Stewarding for Maester Aemon had been as good a life as he'd ever known. The old blind man was undemanding, and Clydas had taken care of most of his wants anyway. Chett's duties were easy: cleaning the rookery, a few fires to build, a few meals to fetch... and Aemon never once hit him. Thinks he can just walk in and shove me out, on account of being highborn and knowing how to read. Might be I'll ask him to read my knife before I open his throat with it. \"You goon,\" he told the others, \"I want to watch this.\" The dogs were pulling, anxious to go with them, to the food they thought would be waiting at the top. Chett kicked the bitch with the toe of his boot, and that settled them down some.\n\nHe watched from the trees as the fat boy wrestled with a longbow as tall as he was, his red moon face screwed up with concentration. Three arrows stood in the ground before him. Tarly nocked and drew, held the draw along moment as he tried to aim, and let fly. The shaft vanished into the greenery. Chett laughed loudly, a snort of sweet disgust.\n\n\"We'll never find that one, and I'll be blamed,\" announced Edd Tollett, the dour grey-haired squire everyone called Dolorous Edd. \"Nothing ever goes missing that they don't look at me, ever since that time I lost my horse. As if that could be helped. He was white and it was snowing, what did they expect?\"\n\n\"The wind took that one,\" said Grenn, another friend of Lord Snow's. \"Try to hold the bow steady, Sam.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's heavy,\" the fat boy complained, but he pulled the second arrow all the same. This one went high, sailing through the branches ten feet above the target.\n\n\"I believe you knocked a leaf off that tree,\" said Dolorous Edd. \"Fall is falling fast enough, there's no need to help it.\" He sighed. \"And we all know what follows fall. Gods, but I am cold. Shoot the last arrow, Samwell, I believe my tongue is freezing to the roof of my mouth.\"\n\nSer Piggy lowered the bow, and Chett thought he was going to start bawling. \"It's too hard.\"\n\n\"Notch, draw, and loose,\" said Grenn. \"Goon.\"\n\nDutifully, the fat boy plucked his final arrow from the earth, notched it to his longbow, drew, and released. He did it quickly, without squinting along the shaft painstakingly as he had the first two times. The arrow struck the charcoal outline low in the chest and hung quivering. \"I hit him.\" Ser Piggy sounded shocked. \"Grenn, did you see? Edd, look, I hit him!\"\n\n\"Put it between his ribs, I'd say,\" said Grenn.\n\n\"Did I kill him?\" the fat boy wanted to know.\n\nTollett shrugged. \"Might have punctured a lung, if he had a lung. Most trees don't, as a rule.\" He took the bow from Sam's hand. \"I've seen worse shots, though. Aye, and made a few.\"\n\nSer Piggy was beaming. To look at him you'd think he'd actually done something. But when he saw Chett and the dogs, his smile curled up and died squeaking."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You hit a tree,\" Chett said. \"Let's see how you shoot when it's Mance Rayder's lads. They won't stand therewith their arms out and their leaves rustling, oh no. They'll come right at you, screaming in your face, and I bet you'll piss those breeches. One o'them will plant his axe right between those little pig eyes. The last thing you'll hear will be the thunk it makes when it bites into your skull.\"\n\nThe fat boy was shaking. Dolorous Edd put a hand on his shoulder. \"Brother,\" he said solemnly, \"just because it happened that way for you doesn't mean Samwell will suffer the same.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about, Tollett?\"\n\n\"The axe that split your skull. Is it true that half your wits leaked out on the ground and your dogs ate them?\"\n\nThe big lout Grenn laughed, and even Samwell Tarly managed a weak little smile. Chett kicked the nearest dog, yanked on their leashes, and started up the hill. Smile all you want, Ser Piggy. We'll see who laughs tonight. He only wished he had time to kill Tollett as well. Gloomy horsefaced fool, that's what he is.\n\nThe climb was steep, even on this side of the Fist, which had the gentlest slope. Partway up the dogs started barking and pulling at him, figuring that they'd get fed soon. He gave them a taste of his boot instead, and a crack of the whip for the big ugly one that snapped at him. Once they were tied up, he went to report. \"The prints were there like Giant said, but the dogs wouldn't track,\" he told Mormont in front of his big black tent. \"Down by the river like that, could be old prints.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A pity.\" Lord Commander Mormont had a bald head and a great shaggy grey beard, and sounded as tired as he looked. \"We might all have been better fora bit of fresh meat.\" The raven on his shoulder bobbed its head and echoed, \"Meat. Meat. Meat.\"\n\nWe could cook the bloody dogs, Chett thought, but he kept his mouth shut until the Old Bear sent him on his way. And that's the last time I'll need to bow my head to that one, he thought to himself with satisfaction. It seemed to him that it was growing even colder, which he would have sworn wasn't possible. The dogs huddled together miserably in the hard frozen mud, and Chett was half tempted to crawl in with them. Instead he wrapped a black wool scarf round the lower part of his face, leaving a slit for his mouth between the winds. It was warmer if he kept moving, he found, so he made a slow circuit of the perimeter with a wad of sourleaf, sharing a chew or two with the black brothers on guard and hearing what they had to say. None of the men on the day watch were part of his scheme; even so, he figured it was good to have some sense of what they were thinking.\n\nMostly what they were thinking was that it was bloody cold.\n\nThe wind was rising as the shadows lengthened. It made a high thin sound as it shivered through the stones of the ringwall. \"I hate that sound,\" little Giant said. \"It sounds like a babe in the brush, wailing away for milk.\"\n\nWhen he finished the circuit and returned to the dogs, he found Lark waiting for him. \"The officers are in the Old Bear's tent again, talking something fierce.\"\n\n\"That's what they do,\" said Chett. \"They're highborn, all but Blane, they get drunk on words instead of wine.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lark sidled closer. \"Cheese-for-wits keeps going on about the bird,\" he warned, glancing about to make certain no one was close. \"Now he's asking if we cached any seed for the damn thing.\"\n\n\"It's a raven,\" said Chett. \"It eats corpses.\"\n\nLark grinned. \"His, might be?\"\n\nOr yours. It seemed to Chett that they needed the big man more than they needed Lark. \"Stop fretting about Small Paul. You do your part, he'll do his.\"\n\nTwilight was creeping through the woods by the time he rid himself of the Sisterman and sat down to edge his sword. It was bloody hard work with his gloves on, but he wasn't about to take them off. Cold as it was, any fool that touched steel with a bare hand was going to lose a patch of skin.\n\nThe dogs whimpered when the sun went down. He gave them water and curses. \"Half a night more, and you can find your own feast.\" By then he could smell supper.\n\nDywen was holding forth at the cookfire as Chett got his heel of hardbread and a bowl of bean and bacon soup from Hake the cook. \"The wood's too silent,\" the old forester was saying. \"No frogs near that river, no owls in the dark. I never heard no deader wood than this.\"\n\n\"Them teeth of yours sound pretty dead,\" said Hake.\n\nDywen clacked his wooden teeth. \"No wolves neither. There was, before, but no more. Where'd they go, you figure?\"\n\n\"Someplace warm,\" said Chett.\n\nOf the dozen odd brothers who sat by the fire, four were his. He gave each one a hard squinty look as he ate, to see if any showed signs of breaking. Dirk seemed calm enough, sitting silent and sharpening his blade, the way he did every night. And Sweet Donnel Hill was all easy japes. He had white teeth and fat red lips and yellow locks that he wore in an artful tumble about his shoulders, and he claimed to be the bastard of some Lannister. Maybe he was at that. Chett had no use for pretty boys, nor for bastards neither, but Sweet Donnel seemed like to hold his own."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He was less certain about the forester the brothers called Sawwood, more for his snoring than for anything to do with trees."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Just now he looked so restless he might never snore again. And Maslyn was worse. Chett could see sweat trickling down his face, despite the frigid wind. The beads of moisture sparkled in the firelight, like so many little wet jewels. Maslyn wasn't eating neither, only staring at his soup as if the smell of it was about to make him sick. I'll need to watch that one, Chett thought.\n\n\"Assemble!\" The shout came suddenly, from a dozen throats, and quickly spread to every part of the hilltop camp. \"Men of the Night's Watch! Assemble at the central fire!\"\n\nFrowning, Chett finished his soup and followed the rest.\n\nThe Old Bear stood before the fire with Smallwood, Locke, Wythers, and Blane ranged behind him in a row. Mormont wore a cloak of thick black fur, and his raven perched upon his shoulder, preening its black feathers. This can't be good. Chett squeezed between Brown Bernarr and some Shadow Tower men. When everyone was gathered, save for the watchers in the woods and the guards on the ringwall, Mormont cleared his throat and spat. The spittle was frozen before it hit the ground. \"Brothers,\" he said, \"men of the Night's Watch.\"\n\n\"Men!\" his raven screamed. \"Men! Men!\"\n\n\"The wildlings are on the march, following the course of the Milkwater down out of the mountains. Thoren believes their van will be upon us ten days hence. Their most seasoned raiders will be with Harma Dogshead in that van. The rest will likely form a rearguard, or ride in close company with Mance Rayder himself. Elsewhere their fighters will be spread thin along the line of march. They have oxen, mules, horses... but few enough. Most will be afoot, and ill-armed and untrained. Such weapons as they carry are more like to be stone and bone than steel. They are burdened with women, children, herds of sheep and goats, and all their worldly goods besides. In short, though they are numerous, they are vulnerable... and they do not know that we are here. Or so we must pray.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They know, thought Chett."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You bloody old pus bag, they know, certain as sunrise. Qhorin Halfhand hasn't comeback, has he? Nor Jarman Buckwell. If any of them got caught, you know damned well the wildlings will have wrung a song or two out of them by now.\n\nSmallwood stepped forward. \"Mance Rayder means to break the Wall and bring red war to the Seven Kingdoms. Well, that's a game two can play. On the morrow we'll bring the war to him.\"\n\n\"We ride at dawn with all our strength,\" the Old Bear said as a murmur went through the assembly. \"We will ride north, and loop around to the west. Harma's van will be well past the Fist by the time we turn. The foothills of the Frostfangs are full of narrow winding valleys made for ambush. Their line of march will stretch for many miles. We shall fall on them in several places at once, and make them swear we were three thousand, not three hundred.\"\n\n\"We'll hit hard and be away before their horsemen can form up to face us,\" Thoren Smallwood said. \"If they pursue, we'll lead them a merry chase, then wheel and hit again farther down the column. We'll burn their wagons, scatter their herds, and slay as many as we can. Mance Rayder himself, if we find him. If they break and return to their hovels, we've won. If not, we'll harry them all the way to the Wall, and see to it that they leave a trail of corpses to mark their progress.\"\n\n\"There are thousands,\" someone called from behind Chett.\n\n\"We'll die.\" That was Maslyn's voice, green with fear.\n\n\"Die,\" screamed Mormont's raven, flapping its black wings. \"Die, die, die.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Many of us,\" the Old Bear said. \"Mayhaps even all of us. But as another Lord Commander said a thousand years ago, that is why they dress us in black. Remember your words, brothers. For we are the swords in the darkness, the watchers on the walls...\"\n\n\"The fire that burns against the cold.\" Ser Mallador Locke drew his longsword.\n\n\"The light that brings the dawn,\" others answered, and more swords were pulled from scabbards.\n\nThen all of them were drawing, and it was near three hundred upraised swords and as many voices crying, \"The horn that wakes the sleepers! The shield that guards the realms of men!\" Chett had no choice but to join his voice to the others. The air was misty with their breath, and firelight glinted off the steel. He was pleased to see Lark and Softfoot and Sweet Donnel Hill joining in, as if they were as big fools as the rest. That was good. No sense to draw attention, when their hour was so close.\n\nWhen the shouting died away, once more he heard the sound of the wind picking at the ringwall. The flames swirled and shivered, as if they too were cold, and in the sudden quiet the Old Bear's raven cawed loudly and once again said, \"Die.\"\n\nClever bird, thought Chett as the officers dismissed them, warning everyone to get a good meal and along rest tonight. Chett crawled under his furs near the dogs, his head full of things that could go wrong. What if that bloody oath gave one of his a change of heart? Or Small Paul forgot and tried to kill Mormont during the second watch in place of the third? Or Maslyn lost his courage, or someone turned informer, or..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He found himself listening to the night. The wind did sound like a wailing child, and from time to time he could hear men's voices, a horse's whinny, a log spitting in the fire. But nothing else. So quiet.\n\nHe could see Bessa's face floating before him. It wasn't the knife I wanted to put in you, he wanted to tell her. I picked you flowers, wild roses and tansy and goldencups, it took me all morning. His heart was thumping like a drum, so loud he feared it might wake the camp. Ice caked his beard all around his mouth. Where did that come from, with Bessa? Whenever he'd thought of her before, it had only been to remember the way she'd looked, dying. What was wrong with him? He could hardly breathe. Had he gone to sleep? He got to his knees, and something wet and cold touched his nose. Chett looked up.\n\nSnow was falling.\n\nHe could feel tears freezing to his cheeks. It isn't fair, he wanted to scream. Snow would ruin everything he'd worked for, all his careful plans. It was a heavy fall, thick white flakes coming down all about him. How would they find their food caches in the snow, or the game trail they meant to follow east? They won't need Dywen nor Bannen to hunt us down neither, not if we're tracking through fresh snow. And snow hid the shape of the ground, especially by night. A horse could stumble over a root, break a leg on a stone. We're done, he realized. Done before we began. We're lost. There'd be no lord's life for the leechman's son, no keep to call his own, no wives nor crowns. Only a wildling's sword in his belly, and then an unmarked grave. The snow's taken it all from me... the bloody snow..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Snow had ruined him once before. Snow and his pet pig.\n\nChett got to his feet. His legs were stiff, and the falling snowflakes turned the distant torches to vague orange glows. He felt as though he were being attacked by a cloud of pale cold bugs. They settled on his shoulders, on his head, they flew at his nose and his eyes. Cursing, he brushed them off. Samwell Tarly, he remembered. I can still deal with Ser Piggy. He wrapped his scarf around his face, pulled up his hood, and went striding through the camp to where the coward slept.\n\nThe snow was falling so heavily that he got lost among the tents, but finally he spotted the snug little windbreak the fat boy had made for himself between a rock and the raven cages. Tarly was buried beneath a mound of black wool blankets and shaggy furs. The snow was drifting into cover him. He looked like some kind of soft round mountain. Steel whispered on leather faint as hope as Chett eased his dagger from its sheath. One of the ravens quorked. \"Snow,\" another muttered, peering through the bars with black eyes. The first added a'Snow\" of its own. He edged past them, placing each foot carefully. He would clap his left hand down over the fat boy's mouth to muffle his cries, and then...\n\nUuuuuuuhoooooooooo.\n\nHe stopped midstep, swallowing his curse as the sound of the horn shuddered through the camp, faint and far, yet unmistakable. Not now. Gods be damned, not NOW! The Old Bear had hidden far-eyes in a ring of trees around the Fist, to give warning of any approach. Jarman Buckwell's back from the Giant's Stair, Chett figured, or Qhorin Half-hand from the Skirling Pass. A single blast of the horn meant brothers returning. If it was the Halfhand, Jon Snow might be with him, alive."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sam Tarly sat up puffy-eyed and stared at the snow in confusion. The ravens were cawing noisily, and Chett could hear his dogs baying. Half the bloody camp's awake. His gloved fingers clenched around the dagger's hilt as he waited for the sound to die away. But no sooner had it gone than it came again, louder and longer.\n\nUuuuuuuuuuuuhooooooooooooooo.\n\n\"Gods,\" he heard Sam Tarly whimper. The fat boy lurched to his knees, his feet tangled in his cloak and blankets. He kicked them away and reached fora chainmail hauberk he'd hung on the rock nearby. Ashe slipped the huge tent of a garment down over his head and wriggled into it, he spied Chett standing there. \"Was it two?\" he asked. \"I dreamed I heard two blasts...\"\n\n\"No dream,\" said Chett. \"Two blasts to call the Watch to arms. Two blasts for foes approaching. There's an axe out therewith Piggy writ on it, fat boy. Two blasts means wildlings.\" The fear on that big moon face made him want to laugh. \"Bugger them all to seven hells. Bloody Harma. Bloody Mance Rayder. Bloody Smallwood, he said they wouldn't be onus for another-\"\n\nUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhooooooooooooooooooooooooo.\n\nThe sound went on and on and on, until it seemed it would never die. The ravens were flapping and screaming, flying about their cages and banging off the bars, and all about the camp the brothers of the Night's Watch were rising, donning their armor, buckling on swordbelts, reaching for battleaxes and bows. Samwell Tarly stood shaking, his face the same color as the snow that swirled down all around them. \"Three,\" he squeaked to Chett, \"that was three, I heard three. They never blow three. Not for hundreds and thousands of years. Three means-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"-Others.\" Chett made a sound that was half a laugh and half a sob, and suddenly his smallclothes were wet, and he could feel the piss running down his leg, see steam rising off the front of his breeches."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nAn east wind blew through his tangled hair, as soft and fragrant as Cersei's fingers. He could hear birds singing, and feel the river moving beneath the boat as the sweep of the oars sent them toward the pale pink dawn. After so long in darkness, the world was so sweet that Jaime Lannister felt dizzy. I am alive, and drunk on sunlight. A laugh burst from his lips, sudden as a quail flushed from cover.\n\n\"Quiet,\" the wench grumbled, scowling. Scowls suited her broad homely face better than a smile. Not that Jaime had ever seen her smiling. He amused himself by picturing her in one of Cersei's silken gowns in place of her studded leather jerkin. As well dress a cow in silk as this one.\n\nBut the cow could row. Beneath her roughspun brown breeches were calves like cords of wood, and the long muscles of her arms stretched and tightened with each stroke of the oars. Even after rowing half the night, she showed no signs of tiring, which was more than could be said for his cousin Ser Cleos, laboring on the other oar. A big strong peasant wench to look at her, yet she speaks like one highborn and wears longsword and dagger. Ah, but can she use them? Jaime meant to find out, as soon as he rid himself of these fetters.\n\nHe wore iron manacles on his wrists and a matching pair about his ankles, joined by a length of heavy chain no more than afoot long. \"You'd think my word as a Lannister was not good enough,\" he'd japed as they bound him. He'd been very drunk by then, thanks to Catelyn Stark. Of their escape from Riverrun, he recalled only bits and pieces. There had been some trouble with the gaoler, but the big wench had overcome him. After that they had climbed an endless stair, around and around. His legs were weak as grass, and he'd stumbled twice or thrice, until the wench lent him an arm to lean on. At some point he was bundled into a traveler's cloak and shoved into the bottom of a skiff. He remembered listening to Lady Catelyn command someone to raise the portcullis on the Water Gate. She was sending Ser Cleos Frey back to King's Landing with new terms for the queen, she'd declared in atone that brooked no argument."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He must have drifted off then."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wine had made him sleepy, and it felt good to stretch, a luxury his chains had not permitted him in the cell. Jaime had long ago learned to snatch sleep in the saddle during a march. This was no harder. Tyrion is going to laugh himself sick when he hears how I slept through my own escape. He was awake now, though, and the fetters were irksome. \"My lady,\" he called out, \"if you'll strike off these chains, I'll spell you at those oars.\"\n\nShe scowled again, her face all horse teeth and glowering suspicion. \"You'll wear your chains, Kingslayer.\"\n\n\"You figure to row all the way to King's Landing, wench?\"\n\n\"You will call me Brienne. Not wench.\"\n\n\"My name is Ser Jaime. Not Kingslayer.\"\n\n\"Do you deny that you slew a king?\"\n\n\"No. Do you deny your sex? If so, unlace those breeches and show me.\" He gave her an innocent smile. \"I'd ask you to open your bodice, but from the look of you that wouldn't prove much.\"\n\nSer Cleos fretted. \"Cousin, remember your courtesies.\"\n\nThe Lannister blood runs thin in this one. Cleos was his Aunt Genna's son by that dullard Emmon Frey, who had lived in terror of Lord Tywin Lannister since the day hewed his sister. When Lord Walder Frey had brought the Twins into the war on the side of Riverrun, Ser Emmon had chosen his wife's allegiance over his father's. Casterly Rock got the worst of that bargain, Jaime reflected. Ser Cleos looked like a weasel, fought like a goose, and had the courage of an especially brave ewe. Lady Stark had promised him release if he delivered her message to Tyrion, and Ser Cleos had solemnly vowed to do so."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They'd all done a deal of vowing back in that cell, Jaime most of all. That was Lady Catelyn's price for loosing him. She had laid the point of the big wench's sword against his heart and said, \"Swear that you will never again take up arms against Stark nor Tully. Swear that you will compel your brother to honor his pledge to return my daughters safe and unharmed. Swear on your honor as a knight, on your honor as a Lannister, on your honor as a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard. Swear it by your sister's life, and your father's, and your son's, by the old gods and the new, and I'll send you back to your sister. Refuse, and I will have your blood.\" He remembered the prick of the steel through his rags as she twisted the point of the sword.\n\nI wonder what the High Septon would have to say about the sanctity of oaths sworn while dead drunk, chained to a wall, with a sword pressed to your chest? Not that Jaime was truly concerned about that fat fraud, or the gods he claimed to serve. He remembered the pail Lady Catelyn had kicked over in his cell. A strange woman, to trust her girls to a man with shit for honor. Though she was trusting him as little as she dared. She is putting her hope in Tyrion, not in me. \"Perhaps she is not so stupid after all,\" he said aloud.\n\nHis captor took it wrong. \"I am not stupid. Nor deaf.\"\n\nHe was gentle with her; mocking this one would be so easy there would be no sport to it. \"I was speaking to myself, and not of you. It's an easy habit to slip into in a cell.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She frowned at him, pushing the oars forward, pulling them back, pushing them forward, saying nothing.\n\nAs glib of tongue as she is fair of face. \"By your speech, I'd judge you nobly born.\"\n\n\"My father is Selwyn of Tarth, by the grace of the gods Lord of Evenfall.\" Even that was given grudgingly.\n\n\"Tarth,\" Jaime said. \"A ghastly large rock in the narrow sea, as I recall. And Evenfall is sworn to Storm's End. How is it that you serve Robb of Winterfell?\"\n\n\"It is Lady Catelyn I serve. And she commanded me to deliver you safe to your brother Tyrion at King's Landing, not to bandy words with you. Be silent.\"\n\n\"I've had a bellyful of silence, woman.\"\n\n\"Talk with Ser Cleos then. I have no words for monsters.\"\n\nJaime hooted. \"Are there monsters hereabouts? Hiding beneath the water, perhaps? In that thick of willows? And me without my sword!\"\n\n\"A man who would violate his own sister, murder his king, and fling an innocent child to his death deserves no other name.\"\n\nInnocent? The wretched boy was spying onus. All Jaime had wanted was an hour alone with Cersei. Their journey north had been one long torment; seeing her everyday, unable to touch her, knowing that Robert stumbled drunkenly into her bed every night in that great creaking wheelhouse. Tyrion had done his best to keep him in a good humor, but it had not been enough. \"You will be courteous as concerns Cersei, wench,\" he warned her.\n\n\"My name is Brienne, not wench.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What do you care what a monster calls you?\"\n\n\"My name is Brienne,\" she repeated, dogged as a hound.\n\n\"Lady Brienne?\" She looked so uncomfortable that Jaime sensed a weakness. \"Or would Ser Brienne be more to your taste?\" He laughed. \"No, I fear not. You can trick out a milk cow in crupper, crinet, and chamfron, and bard her all in silk, but that doesn't mean you can ride her into battle.\"\n\n\"Cousin Jaime, please, you ought not speak so roughly.\" Under his cloak, Ser Cleos wore a surcoat quartered with the twin towers of House Frey and the golden lion of Lannister. \"We have far to go, we should not quarrel amongst ourselves.\"\n\n\"When I quarrel I do it with a sword, coz. I was speaking to the lady. Tell me, wench, are all the women on Tarth as homely as you? I pity the men, if so. Perhaps they do not know what real women look like, living on a dreary mountain in the sea.\"\n\n\"Tarth is beautiful,\" the wench grunted between strokes. \"The Sapphire Isle, it's called. Be quiet, monster, unless you mean to make me gag you.\"\n\n\"She's rude as well, isn't she, coz?\" Jaime asked Ser Cleos. \"Though she has steel in her spine, I'll grant you. Not many men dare name me monster to my face.\" Though behind my back they speak freely enough, I have no doubt.\n\nSer Cleos coughed nervously. \"Lady Brienne had those lies from Catelyn Stark, no doubt. The Starks cannot hope to defeat you with swords, ser, so now they make war with poisoned words.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They did defeat me with swords, you chinless cretin. Jaime smiled knowingly. Men will read all sorts of things into a knowing smile, if you let them. Has cousin Cleos truly swallowed this kettle of dung, or is he striving to ingratiate himself? What do we have here, an honest muttonhead or a lickspittle?\n\nSer Cleos prattled blithely on. \"Any man who'd believe that a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard would harm a child does not know the meaning of honor.\"\n\nLickspittle. If truth be told, Jaime had come to rue heaving Brandon Stark out that window. Cersei had given him no end of grief afterward, when the boy refused to die. \"He was seven, Jaime,\" she'd berated him. \"Even if he understood what he saw, we should have been able to frighten him into silence.\"\n\n\"I didn't think you'd want-\"\n\n\"You never think. If the boy should wake and tell his father what he saw-\"\n\n\"If if if.\" He had pulled her into his lap. \"If he wakes we'll say he was dreaming, we'll call him a liar, and should worse come to worst I'll kill Ned Stark.\"\n\n\"And then what do you imagine Robert will do?\"\n\n\"Let Robert do as he pleases. I'll go to war with him if I must. The War for Cersei's Cunt, the singers will call it.\"\n\n\"Jaime, let goof me!\" she raged, struggling to rise.\n\nInstead he had kissed her. Fora moment she resisted, but then her mouth opened under his. He remembered the taste of wine and cloves on her tongue. She gave a shudder. His hand went to her bodice and yanked, tearing the silk so her breasts spilled free, and fora time the Stark boy had been forgotten."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Had Cersei remembered him afterward and hired this man Lady Catelyn spoke of, to make sure the boy never woke? If she wanted him dead she would have sent me. And it is not like her to chose a catspaw who would make such a royal botch of the killing.\n\nDownriver, the rising sun shimmered against the wind-whipped surface of the river. The south shore was red clay, smooth as any road. Smaller streams fed into the greater, and the rotting trunks of drowned trees clung to the banks. The north shore was wilder. High rocky bluffs rose twenty feet above them, crowned by stands of beech, oak, and chestnut. Jaime spied a watchtower on the heights ahead, growing taller with every stroke of the oars. Long before they were upon it, he knew that it stood abandoned, its weathered stones overgrown with climbing roses.\n\nWhen the wind shifted, Ser Cleos helped the big wench run up the sail, a stiff triangle of striped red-and-blue canvas. Tully colors, sure to cause them grief if they encountered any Lannister forces on the river, but it was the only sail they had. Brienne took the rudder. Jaime threw out the leeboard, his chains rattling as he moved. After that, they made better speed, with wind and current both favoring their flight. \"We could save a deal of traveling if you delivered me to my father instead of my brother,\" he pointed out.\n\n\"Lady Catelyn's daughters are in King's Landing. I will return with the girls or not at all.\"\n\nJaime turned to Ser Cleos. \"Cousin, lend me your knife.\"\n\n\"No.\" The woman tensed. \"I will not have you armed.\" Her voice was as unyielding as stone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She fears me, even in irons. \"Cleos, it seems I must ask you to shave me. Leave the beard, but take the hair off my head.\"\n\n\"You'd be shaved bald?\" asked Cleos Frey.\n\n\"The realm knows Jaime Lannister as a beardless knight with long golden hair. A bald man with a filthy yellow beard may pass unnoticed. I'd sooner not be recognized while I'm in irons.\"\n\nThe dagger was not as sharp as it might have been. Cleos hacked away manfully, sawing and ripping his way through the mats and tossing the hair over the side. The golden curls floated on the surface of the water, gradually falling astern. As the tangles vanished, a louse went crawling down his neck. Jaime caught it and crushed it against his thumbnail. Ser Cleos picked others from his scalp and flicked them into the water. Jaime doused his head and made Ser Cleos whet the blade before he let him scrape away the last inch of yellow stubble. When that was done, they trimmed back his beard as well.\n\nThe reflection in the water was a man he did not know. Not only was he bald, but he looked as though he had aged five years in that dungeon; his face was thinner, with hollows under his eyes and lines he did not remember. I don't look as much like Cersei this way. She'll hate that.\n\nBy midday, Ser Cleos had fallen asleep. His snores sounded like ducks mating. Jaime stretched out to watch the world flow past; after the dark cell, every rock and tree was a wonder.\n\nA few one-room shacks came and went, perched on tall poles that made them look like cranes. Of the folk who lived there they saw no sign. Birds flew overhead, or cried out from the trees along the shore, and Jaime glimpsed silvery fish knifing through the water. Tully trout, there's a bad omen, he thought, until he saw a worse-one of the floating logs they passed turned out to be a dead man, bloodless and swollen. His cloak was tangled in the roots of a fallen tree, its color unmistakably Lannister crimson. He wondered if the corpse had been someone he knew."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The forks of the Trident were the easiest way to move goods or men across the riverlands."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In times of peace, they would have encountered fisherfolk in their skiffs, grain barges being poled downstream, merchants selling needles and bolts of cloth from floating shops, perhaps even a gaily painted mummer's boat with quilted sails of half a hundred colors, making its way upriver from village to village and castle to castle.\n\nBut the war had taken its toll. They sailed past villages, but saw no villagers. An empty net, slashed and torn and hanging from some trees, was the only sign of fisherfolk. A young girl watering her horse rode off as soon as she glimpsed their sail. Later they passed a dozen peasants digging in afield beneath the shell of a burnt towerhouse. The men gazed at them with dull eyes, and went back to their labors once they decided the skiff was no threat.\n\nThe Red Fork was wide and slow, a meandering river of loops and bends dotted with tiny wooded islets and frequently choked by sandbars and snags that lurked just below the water's surface. Brienne seemed to have a keen eye for the dangers, though, and always seemed to find the channel. When Jaime complimented heron her knowledge of the river, she looked at him suspiciously and said, \"I do not know the river. Tarth is an island. I learned to manage oars and sail before I ever sat a horse.\"\n\nSer Cleos sat up and rubbed at his eyes. \"Gods, my arms are sore. I hope the wind lasts.\" He sniffed at it. \"I smell rain.\"\n\nJaime would welcome a good rain. The dungeons of Riverrun were not the cleanest place in the Seven Kingdoms. By now he must smell like an overripe cheese.\n\nCleos squinted downriver. \"Smoke.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A thin grey finger crooked them on. It was rising from the south bank several miles on, twisting and curling. Below, Jaime made out the smouldering remains of a large building, and alive oak full of dead women.\n\nThe crows had scarcely started on their corpses. The thin ropes cut deeply into the soft flesh of their throats, and when the wind blew they twisted and swayed. \"This was not chivalrously done,\" said Brienne when they were close enough to see it clearly. \"No true knight would condone such wanton butchery.\"\n\n\"True knights see worse every time they ride to war, wench,\" said Jaime. \"And do worse, yes.\"\n\nBrienne turned the rudder toward the shore. \"I'll leave no innocents to be food for crows.\"\n\n\"A heartless wench. Crows need to eat as well. Stay to the river and leave the dead alone, woman.\"\n\nThey landed upstream of where the great oak leaned out over the water. As Brienne lowered the sail, Jaime climbed out, clumsy in his chains. The Red Fork filled his boots and soaked through the ragged breeches. Laughing, he dropped to his knees, plunged his head under the water, and came up drenched and dripping. His hands were caked with dirt, and when he rubbed them clean in the current they seemed thinner and paler than he remembered. His legs were stiff as well, and unsteady when he put his weight upon them. I was too bloody long in Hoster Tully's dungeon.\n\nBrienne and Cleos dragged the skiff onto the bank. The corpses hung above their heads, ripening in deathlike foul fruit. \"One of us will need to cut them down,\" the wench said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll climb.\" Jaime waded ashore, clanking. \"Just get these chains off.\"\n\nThe wench was staring up atone of the dead women. Jaime shuffled closer with small stutter steps, the only kind the foot-long chain permitted. When he saw the crude sign hung about the neck of the highest corpse, he smiled. \"They Lay With Lions,\" he read. \"Oh, yes, woman, this was most unchivalrously done... but by your side, not mine. I wonder who they were, these women?\"\n\n\"Tavern wenches,\" said Ser Cleos Frey. \"This was an inn, I remember it now. Some men of my escort spent the night here when we last returned to Riverrun.\" Nothing remained of the building but the stone foundation and a tangle of collapsed beams, charred black. Smoke still rose from the ashes.\n\nJaime left brothels and whores to his brother Tyrion; Cersei was the only woman he had ever wanted. \"The girls pleasured some of my lord father's soldiers, it would seem. Perhaps served them food and drink. That's how they earned their traitors' collars, with a kiss and a cup of ale.\" He glanced up and down the river, to make certain they were quite alone. \"This is Bracken land. Lord Jonos might have ordered them killed. My father burned his castle, I fear he loves us not.\"\n\n\"It might be Marq Piper's work,\" said Ser Cleos. \"Or that wisp o\" the wood Beric Dondarrion, though I'd heard he kills only soldiers. Perhaps a band of Roose Bolton's northmen?\"\n\n\"Bolton was defeated by my father on the Green Fork.\"\n\n\"But not broken,\" said Ser Cleos. \"He came south again when Lord Tywin marched against the fords. The word at Riverrun was that he'd taken Harrenhal from Ser Amory Lorch.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jaime liked the sound of that not at all. \"Brienne,\" he said, granting her the courtesy of the name in the hopes that she might listen, \"if Lord Bolton holds Harrenhal, both the Trident and the kingsroad are likely watched.\"\n\nHe thought he saw a touch of uncertainty in her big blue eyes. \"You are under my protection. They'd need to kill me.\"\n\n\"I shouldn't think that would trouble them.\"\n\n\"I am as good a fighter as you,\" she said defensively. \"I was one of King Renly's chosen seven. With his own hands, he cloaked me with the striped silk of the Rainbow Guard.\"\n\n\"The Rainbow Guard? You and six other girls, was it? A singer once said that all maids are fair in silk... but he never met you, did he?\"\n\nThe woman turned red. \"We have graves to dig.\" She went to climb the tree.\n\nThe lower limbs of the oak were big enough for her to stand upon once she'd gotten up the trunk. She walked amongst the leaves, dagger in hand, cutting down the corpses. Flies swarmed around the bodies as they fell, and the stench grew worse with each one she dropped. \"This is a deal of trouble to take for whores,\" Ser Cleos complained. \"What are we supposed to dig with? We have no spades, and I will not use my sword, I-\"\n\nBrienne gave a shout. She jumped down rather than climbing. \"To the boat. Be quick. There's a sail.\"\n\nThey made what haste they could, though Jaime could hardly run, and had to be pulled backup into the skiff by his cousin. Brienne shoved off with an oar and raised sail hurriedly. \"Ser Cleos, I'll need you to row as well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He did as she bid. The skiff began to cut the water a bit faster; current, wind, and oars all worked for them. Jaime sat chained, peering upriver. Only the top of the other sail was visible. With the way the Red Fork looped, it looked to be across the fields, moving north behind a screen of trees while they moved south, but he knew that was deceptive. He lifted both hands to shade his eyes. \"Mud red and watery blue,\" he announced.\n\nBrienne's bigmouth worked soundlessly, giving her the look of a cow chewing its cud. \"Faster, ser.\"\n\nThe inn soon vanished behind them, and they lost sight of the top of the sail as well, but that meant nothing. Once the pursuers swung around the loop they would become visible again. \"We can hope the noble Tullys will stop to bury the dead whores, I suppose.\" The prospect of returning to his cell did not appeal to Jaime. Tyrion could think of something clever now, but all that occurs tome is to goat them with a sword.\n\nFor the good part of an hour they played peek-and-seek with the pursuers, sweeping around bends and between small wooded isles. Just when they were starting to hope that somehow they might have left behind the pursuit, the distant sail became visible again. Ser Cleos paused in his stroke. \"The Others take them.\" He wiped sweat from his brow.\n\n\"Row!\" Brienne said.\n\n\"That is a river galley coming after us,\" Jaime announced after he'd watched fora while. With every stroke, it seemed to grow a little larger. \"Nine oars on each side, which means eighteen men. More, if they crowded on fighters as well as rowers. And larger sails than ours. We cannot outrun her.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Ser Cleos froze at his oars. \"Eighteen, you said?\"\n\n\"Six for each of us. I'd want eight, but these bracelets hinder me somewhat.\" Jaime held up his wrists. \"Unless the Lady Brienne would be so kind as to unshackle me?\"\n\nShe ignored him, putting all her effort into her stroke.\n\n\"We had half a night's start on them,\" Jaime said. \"They've been rowing since dawn, resting two oars at a time. They'll be exhausted. Just now the sight of our sail has given them a burst of strength, but that will not last. We ought to be able to kill a good many of them.\"\n\nSer Cleos gaped. \"But... there are eighteen.\"\n\n\"At the least. More likely twenty or twenty-five.\"\n\nHis cousin groaned. \"We can't hope to defeat eighteen.\"\n\n\"Did I say we could? The best we can hope for is to die with swords in our hands.\" He was perfectly sincere. Jaime Lannister had never been afraid of death.\n\nBrienne broke off rowing. Sweat had stuck strands of her flax-colored hair to her forehead, and her grimace made her look homelier than ever. \"You are under my protection,\" she said, her voice so thick with anger that it was almost a growl.\n\nHe had to laugh at such fierceness. She's the Hound with teats, he thought. Or would be, if she had any teats to speak of. \"Then protect me, wench. Or free me to protect myself.\"\n\nThe galley was skimming downriver, a great wooden dragonfly. The water around her was churned white by the furious action of her oars. She was gaining visibly, the men on her deck crowding forward as she came on. Metal glinted in their hands, and Jaime could see bows as well. Archers. He hated archers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At the prow of the onrushing galley stood a stocky man with a bald head, bushy grey eyebrows, and brawny arms. Over his mail he wore a soiled white surcoat with a weeping willow embroidered in pale green, but his cloak was fastened with a silver trout. Riverrun's captain of guards. In his day Ser Robin Ryger had been a notably tenacious fighter, but his day was done; he was of an age with Hoster Tully, and had grown old with his lord.\n\nWhen the boats were fifty yards apart, Jaime cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted back over the water. \"Come to wish me godspeed, Ser Robin?\"\n\n\"Come to take you back, Kingslayer,\" Ser Robin Ryger bellowed. \"How is it that you've lost your golden hair?\"\n\n\"I hope to blind my enemies with the sheen off my head. It's worked well enough for you.\"\n\nSer Robin was unamused. The distance between skiff and galley had shrunk to forty yards. \"Throw your oars and your weapons into the river, and no one need be harmed.\"\n\nSer Cleos twisted around. \"Jaime, tell him we were freed by Lady Catelyn... an exchange of captives, lawful...\"\n\nJaime told him, for all the good it did. \"Catelyn Stark does not rule in Riverrun,\" Ser Robin shouted back. Four archers crowded into position on either side of him, two standing and two kneeling. \"Cast your swords into the water.\"\n\n\"I have no sword,\" he returned, \"but if I did, I'd stick it through your belly and hack the balls off those four cravens.\"\n\nA flight of arrows answered him. One thudded into the mast, two pierced the sail, and the fourth missed Jaime by afoot."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 3"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At the prow of the onrushing galley stood a stocky man with a bald head, bushy grey eyebrows, and brawny arms. Over his mail he wore a soiled white surcoat with a weeping willow embroidered in pale green, but his cloak was fastened with a silver trout. Riverrun's captain of guards. In his day Ser Robin Ryger had been a notably tenacious fighter, but his day was done; he was of an age with Hoster Tully, and had grown old with his lord.\n\nWhen the boats were fifty yards apart, Jaime cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted back over the water. \"Come to wish me godspeed, Ser Robin?\"\n\n\"Come to take you back, Kingslayer,\" Ser Robin Ryger bellowed. \"How is it that you've lost your golden hair?\"\n\n\"I hope to blind my enemies with the sheen off my head. It's worked well enough for you.\"\n\nSer Robin was unamused. The distance between skiff and galley had shrunk to forty yards. \"Throw your oars and your weapons into the river, and no one need be harmed.\"\n\nSer Cleos twisted around. \"Jaime, tell him we were freed by Lady Catelyn... an exchange of captives, lawful...\"\n\nJaime told him, for all the good it did. \"Catelyn Stark does not rule in Riverrun,\" Ser Robin shouted back. Four archers crowded into position on either side of him, two standing and two kneeling. \"Cast your swords into the water.\"\n\n\"I have no sword,\" he returned, \"but if I did, I'd stick it through your belly and hack the balls off those four cravens.\"\n\nA flight of arrows answered him. One thudded into the mast, two pierced the sail, and the fourth missed Jaime by afoot."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Another of the Red Fork's broad loops loomed before them. Brienne angled the skiff across the bend. The yard swung as they turned, their sail cracking as it filled with wind. Ahead a large island satin midstream. The main channel flowed right. To the left a cutoff ran between the island and the high bluffs of the north shore. Brienne moved the tiller and the skiff sheared left, sail rippling. Jaime watched her eyes. Pretty eyes, he thought, and calm. He knew how to read a man's eyes. He knew what fear looked like. She is determined, not desperate.\n\nThirty yards behind, the galley was entering the bend. \"Ser Cleos, take the tiller,\" the wench commanded. \"Kingslayer, take an oar and keep us off the rocks.\"\n\n\"As my lady commands.\" An oar was not a sword, but the blade could break a man's face if well swung, and the shaft could be used to parry.\n\nSer Cleos shoved the oar into Jaime's hand and scrambled aft. They crossed the head of the island and turned sharply down the cutoff, sending awash of water against the face of the bluff as the boat tilted. The island was densely wooded, a tangle of willows, oaks, and tall pines that cast deep shadows across the rushing water, hiding snags and the rotted trunks of drowned trees. To their left the bluff rose sheer and rocky, and at its foot the river foamed whitely around broken boulders and tumbles of rock fallen from the cliff face.\n\nThey passed from sunlight into shadow, hidden from the galley's view between the green wall of the trees and the stony grey-brown bluff. A few moments\" respite from the arrows, Jaime thought, pushing them off a half-submerged boulder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The skiff rocked."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He heard a soft splash, and when he glanced around, Brienne was gone. A moment later he spied her again, pulling herself from the water at the base of the bluff. She waded through a shallow pool, scrambled over some rocks, and began to climb. Ser Cleos goggled, mouth open. Fool, thought Jaime. \"Ignore the wench,\" he snapped at his cousin. \"Steer.\"\n\nThey could seethe sail moving behind the trees. The river galley came into full view at the top of the cutoff, twenty-five yards behind. Her bow swung hard as she came around, and a half-dozen arrows took flight, but all went well wide. The motion of the two boats was giving the archers difficulty, but Jaime knew they'd soon enough learn to compensate. Brienne was halfway up the cliff face, pulling herself from handhold to handhold. Ryger's sure to see her, and once he does he'll have those bowmen bring her down. Jaime decided to see if the old man's pride would make him stupid. \"Ser Robin,\" he shouted, \"hear me fora moment.\"\n\nSer Robin raised a hand, and his archers lowered their bows. \"Say what you will, Kingslayer, but say it quickly.\"\n\nThe skiff swung through a litter of broken stones as Jaime called out, \"I know a better way to settle this-single combat. You and I.\"\n\n\"I was not born this morning, Lannister.\"\n\n\"No, but you're like to die this afternoon.\" Jaime raised his hands so the other could seethe manacles. \"I'll fight you in chains. What could you fear?\"\n\n\"Not you, ser. If the choice were mine, I'd like nothing better, but I am commanded to bring you back alive if possible. Bowmen.\" He signaled them on. \"Notch. Draw. Loo-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The range was less than twenty yards."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The archers could scarcely have missed, but as they pulled on their longbows a rain of pebbles cascaded down around them. Small stones rattled on their deck, bounced off their helms, and made splashes on both sides of the bow. Those who had wits enough to understand raised their eyes just as a boulder the size of a cow detached itself from the top of the bluff. Ser Robin shouted in dismay. The stone tumbled through the air, struck the face of the cliff, cracked in two, and smashed down on them. The larger piece snapped the mast, tore through the sail, sent two of the archers flying into the river, and crushed the leg of a rower as he bent over his oar. The rapidity with which the galley began to fill with water suggested that the smaller fragment had punched right through her hull. The oarsman's screams echoed off the bluff while the archers flailed wildly in the current. From the way they were splashing, neither man could swim. Jaime laughed.\n\nBy the time they emerged from the cutoff, the galley was foundering amongst pools, eddies, and snags, and Jaime Lannister had decided that the gods were good. Ser Robin and his thrice-damned archers would have along wet walk back to Riverrun, and he was rid of the big homely wench as well. I could not have planned it better myself. Once I'm free of these irons...\n\nSer Cleos raised a shout. When Jaime looked up, Brienne was lumbering along the clifftop well ahead of them, having cut across a finger of land while they were following the bend in the river. She threw herself off the rock, and looked almost graceful as she folded into a dive. It would have been ungracious to hope that she would smash her head on a stone. Ser Cleos turned the skiff toward her. Thankfully, Jaime still had his oar. One good swing when she comes paddling up and I'll be free of her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Instead he found himself stretching the oar out over the water. Brienne grabbed hold, and Jaime pulled her in. Ashe helped her into the skiff, water ran from her hair and dripped from her sodden clothing to pool on the deck. She's even uglier wet. Who would have thought it possible? \"You're a bloody stupid wench,\" he told her. \"We could have sailed on without you. I suppose you expect me to thank you?\"\n\n\"I want none of your thanks, Kingslayer. I swore an oath to bring you safe to King's Landing.\"\n\n\"And you actually mean to keep it?\" Jaime gave her his brightest smile. \"Now there's a wonder.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "CATELYN\n\nSer Desmond Grell had served House Tully all his life. He had been a squire when Catelyn was born, a knight when she learned to walk and ride and swim, master-at-arms by the day that she was wed. He had seen Lord Hoster's little Cat become a young woman, a great lord's lady, mother to a king. And now he has seen me become a traitor as well.\n\nHer brother Edmure had named Ser Desmond castellan of Riverrun when he rode off to battle, so it fell to him to deal with her crime. To ease his discomfort he brought her father's steward with him, dour Utherydes Wayn. The two men stood and looked at her; Ser Desmond stout, red-faced, embarrassed, Utherydes grave, gaunt, melancholy. Each waited for the other to speak. They have given their lives to my father's service, and I have repaid them with disgrace, Catelyn thought wearily.\n\n\"Your sons,\" Ser Desmond said at last. \"Maester Vyman told us. The poor lads. Terrible. Terrible. But...\"\n\n\"We share your grief, my lady,\" said Utherydes Wayn. \"All Riverrun mourns with you, but...\"\n\n\"The news must have driven you mad,\" Ser Desmond broke in, \"a madness of grief, a mother's madness, men will understand. You did not know...\"\n\n\"I did,\" Catelyn said firmly. \"I understood what I was doing and knew it was treasonous. If you fail to punish me, men will believe that we connived together to free Jaime Lannister. It was mine own act and mine alone, and I alone must answer for it. Put me in the Kingslayer's empty irons, and I will wear them proudly, if that is how it must be.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fetters?\" The very word seemed to shock poor Ser Desmond. \"For the king's mother, my lord's own daughter? Impossible.\"\n\n\"Mayhaps,\" said the steward Utherydes Wayn, \"my lady would consent to be confined to her chambers until Ser Edmure returns. A time alone, to pray for her murdered sons?\"\n\n\"Confined, aye,\" Ser Desmond said. \"Confined to a tower cell, that would serve.\"\n\n\"If I am to be confined, let it be in my father's chambers, so I might comfort him in his last days.\"\n\nSer Desmond considered a moment. \"Very well. You shall lack no comfort nor courtesy, but freedom of the castle is denied you. Visit the sept as you need, but elsewise remain in Lord Hoster's chambers until Lord Edmure returns.\"\n\n\"As you wish.\" Her brother was no lord while their father lived, but Catelyn did not correct him. \"Set a guard on me if you must, but I give you my pledge that I shall attempt no escape.\"\n\nSer Desmond nodded, plainly glad to be done with his distasteful task, but sad-eyed Utherydes Wayn lingered a moment after the castellan took his leave. \"It was a grave thing you did, my lady, but for naught. Ser Desmond has sent Ser Robin Ryger after them, to bring back the Kingslayer... or failing that, his head.\"\n\nCatelyn had expected no less. May the Warrior give strength to your sword arm, Brienne, she prayed. She had done all she could; nothing remained but to hope.\n\nHer things were moved into her father's bedchamber, dominated by the great canopied bed she had been born in, its pillars carved in the shapes of leaping trout. Her father himself had been moved half a turn down the stair, his sickbed placed to face the triangular balcony that opened off his solar, from whence he could seethe rivers that he had always loved so well."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Hoster was sleeping when Catelyn entered. She went out to the balcony and stood with one hand on the rough stone balustrade. Beyond the point of the castle the swift Tumblestone joined the placid Red Fork, and she could see along way downriver. If a striped sail comes from the east, it will be Ser Robin returning. For the moment the surface of the waters was empty. She thanked the gods for that, and went back inside to sit with her father.\n\nCatelyn could not say if Lord Hoster knew that she was there, or if her presence brought him any comfort, but it gave her solace to be with him. What would you say if you knew my crime, Father? she wondered. Would you have done as I did, if it were Lysa and me in the hands of our enemies? Or would you condemn me too, and call it mother's madness?\n\nThere was a smell of death about that room; a heavy smell, sweet and foul, clinging. It reminded her of the sons that she had lost, her sweet Bran and her little Rickon, slain at the hand of Theon Greyjoy, who had been Ned's ward. She still grieved for Ned, she would always grieve for Ned, but to have her babies taken as well...\"It is a monstrous cruel thing to lose a child,\" she whispered softly, more to herself than to her father.\n\nLord Hoster's eyes opened. \"Tansy,\" he husked in a voice thick with pain.\n\nHe does not know me. Catelyn had grown accustomed to him taking her for her mother or her sister Lysa, but Tansy was a name strange to her. \"It's Catelyn,\" she said. \"It's Cat, Father.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Forgive me... the blood... oh, please... Tansy...\"\n\nCould there have been another woman in her father's life? Some village maiden he had wronged when he was young, perhaps? Could he have found comfort in some serving wench's arms after Mother died? It was a queer thought, unsettling. Suddenly she felt as though she had not known her father at all. \"Who is Tansy, my lord? Do you want me to send for her, Father? Where would I find the woman? Does she still live?\"\n\nLord Hoster groaned. \"Dead.\" His hand groped for hers. \"You'll have others... sweet babes, and trueborn.\"\n\nOthers? Catelyn thought. Has he forgotten that Ned is gone? Is he still talking to Tansy, or is it me now, or Lysa, or Mother?\n\nWhen he coughed, the sputum came up bloody. He clutched her fingers. \"... be a good wife and the gods will bless you... sons... trueborn sons... aaahhh.\" The sudden spasm of pain made Lord Hoster's hand tighten. His nails dug into her hand, and he gave a muffled scream.\n\nMaester Vyman came quickly, to mix another dose of milk of the poppy and help his lord swallow it down. Soon enough, Lord Hoster Tully had fallen back into a heavy sleep.\n\n\"He was asking after a woman,\" said Cat. \"Tansy.\"\n\n\"Tansy?\" The maester looked at her blankly.\n\n\"You know no one by that name? A serving girl, a woman from some nearby village? Perhaps someone from years past?\" Catelyn had been gone from Riverrun fora very longtime."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No, my lady. I can make inquiries, if you like. Utherydes Wayn would surely know if any such person ever served at Riverrun. Tansy, did you say? The smallfolk often name their daughters after flowers and herbs.\" The maester looked thoughtful. \"There was a widow, I recall, she used to come to the castle looking for old shoes in need of new soles. Her name was Tansy, now that I think on it. Or was it Pansy? Some such. But she has not come for many years...\"\n\n\"Her name was Violet,\" said Catelyn, who remembered the old woman very well.\n\n\"Was it?\" The maester looked apologetic. \"My pardons, Lady Catelyn, but I may not stay. Ser Desmond has decreed that we are to speak to you only so far as our duties require.\"\n\n\"Then you must do as he commands.\" Catelyn could not blame Ser Desmond; she had given him small reason to trust her, and no doubt he feared that she might use the loyalty that many of the folk of Riverrun would still feel toward their lord's daughter to work some further mischief. I am free of the war, at least, she told herself, if only fora little while.\n\nAfter the maester had gone, she donned a woolen cloak and stepped out onto the balcony once more. Sunlight shimmered on the rivers, gilding the surface of the waters as they rolled past the castle. Catelyn shaded her eyes against the glare, searching fora distant sail, dreading the sight of one. But there was nothing, and nothing meant that her hopes were still alive.\n\nAll that day she watched, and well into the night, until her legs ached from the standing. A raven came to the castle in late afternoon, flapping down on great black wings to the rookery. Dark wings, dark words, she thought, remembering the last bird that had come and the horror it had brought."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Maester Vyman returned at evenfall to minister to Lord Tully and bring Catelyn a modest supper of bread, cheese, and boiled beef with horseradish. \"I spoke to Utherydes Wayn, my lady. He is quite certain that no woman by the name of Tansy has ever been at Riverrun during his service.\"\n\n\"There was a raven today, I saw. Has Jaime been taken again?\" Or slain, gods forbid?\n\n\"No, my lady, we've had no word of the Kingslayer.\"\n\n\"Is it another battle, then? Is Edmure in difficulty? Or Robb? Please, be kind, put my fears at rest.\"\n\n\"My lady, I should not...\" Vyman glanced about, as if to make certain no one else was in the room. \"Lord Tywin has left the riverlands. All's quiet on the fords.\"\n\n\"Whence came the raven, then?\"\n\n\"From the west,\" he answered, busying himself with Lord Hoster's bedclothes and avoiding her eyes.\n\n\"Was it news of Robb?\"\n\nHe hesitated. \"Yes, my lady.\"\n\n\"Something is wrong.\" She knew it from his manner. He was hiding something from her. \"Tell me. Is it Robb? Is he hurt?\" Not dead, gods be good, please do not tell me that he is dead.\n\n\"His Grace took a wound storming the Crag,\" Maester Vyman said, still evasive, \"but writes that it is no cause for concern, and that he hopes to return soon.\"\n\n\"A wound? What sort of wound? How serious?\"\n\n\"No cause for concern, he writes.\"\n\n\"All wounds concern me. Is he being cared for?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am certain of it. The maester at the Crag will tend to him, I have no doubt.\"\n\n\"Where was he wounded?\"\n\n\"My lady, I am commanded not to speak with you. I am sorry.\" Gathering up his potions, Vyman made a hurried exit, and once again Catelyn was left alone with her father. The milk of the poppy had done its work, and Lord Hoster was sunk in heavy sleep. A thin line of spittle ran down from one corner of his open mouth to dampen his pillow. Catelyn took a square of linen and wiped it away gently. When she touched him, Lord Hoster moaned. \"Forgive me,\" he said, so softly she could scarcely hear the words. \"Tansy... blood... the blood... gods be kind...\"\n\nHis words disturbed her more than she could say, though she could make no sense of them. Blood, she thought. Must it all comeback to blood? Father, who was this woman, and what did you do to her that needs so much forgiveness?\n\nThat night Catelyn slept fitfully, haunted by formless dreams of her children, the lost and the dead. Well before the break of day, she woke with her father's words echoing in her ears. Sweet babes, and trueborn... why would he say that, unless... could he have fathered a bastard on this woman Tansy? She could not believe it. Her brother Edmure, yes; it would not have surprised her to learn that Edmure had a dozen natural children. But not her father, not Lord Hoster Tully, never.\n\nCould Tansy be some pet name he called Lysa, the way he called me Cat? Lord Hoster had mistaken her for her sister before. You'll have others, he said. Sweet babes, and trueborn. Lysa had miscarried five times, twice in the Eyrie, thrice at King's Landing... but never at Riverrun, where Lord Hoster would have been at hand to comfort her. Never, unless... unless she was with child, that first time..."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She and her sister had been married on the same day, and left in their father's care when their new husbands had ridden off to rejoin Robert's rebellion. Afterward, when their moon blood did not come at the accustomed time, Lysa had gushed happily of the sons she was certain they carried. \"Your son will be heir to Winterfell and mine to the Eyrie. Oh, they'll be the best of friends, like your Ned and Lord Robert. They'll be more brothers than cousins, truly, I just know it.\" She was so happy.\n\nBut Lysa's blood had come not long after, and all the joy had gone out of her. Catelyn had always thought that Lysa had simply been a little late, but if she had been with child...\n\nShe remembered the first time she gave her sister Robb to hold; small, red-faced, and squalling, but strong even then, full of life. No sooner had Catelyn placed the babe in her sister's arms than Lysa's face dissolved into tears. Hurriedly she had thrust the baby back at Catelyn and fled.\n\nIf she had lost a child before, that might explain Father's words, and much else besides... Lysa's match with Lord Arryn had been hastily arranged, and Jon was an old man even then, older than their father. An old man without an heir. His first two wives had left him childless, his brother's son had been murdered with Brandon Stark in King's Landing, his gallant cousin had died in the Battle of the Bells. He needed a young wife if House Arryn was to continue... a young wife known to be fertile.\n\nCatelyn rose, threw on a robe, and descended the steps to the darkened solar to stand over her father. A sense of helpless dread filled her. \"Father,\" she said, \"Father, I know what you did.\" She was no longer an innocent bride with ahead full of dreams. She was a widow, a traitor, a grieving mother, and wise, wise in the ways of the world. \"You made him take her,\" she whispered. \"Lysa was the price Jon Arryn had to pay for the swords and spears of House Tully.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Small wonder her sister's marriage had been so loveless. The Arryns were proud, and prickly of their honor. Lord Jon might wed Lysa to bind the Tullys to the cause of the rebellion, and in hopes of a son, but it would have been hard for him to love a woman who came to his bed soiled and unwilling. He would have been kind, no doubt; dutiful, yes; but Lysa needed warmth.\n\nThe next day, as she broke her fast, Catelyn asked for quill and paper and began a letter to her sister in the Vale of Arryn. She told Lysa of Bran and Rickon, struggling with the words, but mostly she wrote of their father. His thoughts are all of the wrong he did you, now that his time grows short. Maester Vyman says he dare not make the milk of the poppy any stronger. It is time for Father to lay down his sword and shield. It is time for him to rest. Yet he fights on grimly, will not yield. It is for your sake, I think. He needs your forgiveness. The war has made the road from the Eyrie to Riverrun dangerous to travel, I know, but surely a strong force of knights could see you safely through the Mountains of the Moon? A hundred men, or a thousand? And if you cannot come, will you not write him at least? A few words of love, so he might die in peace? Write what you will, and I shall read it to him, and ease his way.\n\nEven as she set the quill aside and asked for sealing wax, Catelyn sensed that the letter was like to be too little and too late. Maester Vyman did not believe Lord Hoster would linger long enough fora raven to reach the Eyrie and return. Though he has said much the same before... Tully men did not surrender easily, no matter the odds. After she entrusted the parchment to the maester's care, Catelyn went to the sept and lit a candle to the Father Above for her own father's sake, a second to the Crone, who had let the first raven into the world when she peered through the door of death, and a third to the Mother, for Lysa and all the children they had both lost."
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"value": "Later that day, as she sat at Lord Hoster's bedside with a book, reading the same passage over and over, she heard the sound of loud voices and a trumpet's blare. Ser Robin, she thought at once, flinching. She went to the balcony, but there was nothing to be seen out on the rivers, but she could hear the voices more clearly from outside, the sound of many horses, the clink of armor, and here and there a cheer. Catelyn made her way up the winding stairs to the roof of the keep. Ser Desmond did not forbid me the roof, she told herself as she climbed.\n\nThe sounds were coming from the far side of the castle, by the main gate. A knot of men stood before the portcullis as it rose in jerks and starts, and in the fields beyond, outside the castle, were several hundred riders. When the wind blew, it lifted their banners, and she trembled in relief at the sight of the leaping trout of Riverrun. Edmure.\n\nIt was two hours before he saw fit to come to her. By then the castle rang to the sound of noisy reunions as men embraced the women and children they had left behind. Three ravens had risen from the rookery, black wings beating at the air as they took flight. Catelyn watched them from her father's balcony. She had washed her hair, changed her clothing, and prepared herself for her brother's reproaches... but even so, the waiting was hard.\n\nWhen at last she heard sounds outside her door, she sat and folded her hands in her lap. Dried red mud spattered Edmure's boots, greaves, and surcoat. To look at him, you would never know he had won his battle. He was thin and drawn, with pale cheeks, unkempt beard, and too-bright eyes."
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Edmure,\" Catelyn said, worried, \"you look unwell. Has something happened? Have the Lannisters crossed the river?\"\n\n\"I threw them back. Lord Tywin, Gregor Clegane, Addam Marbrand, I turned them away. Stannis, though...\" He grimaced.\n\n\"Stannis? What of Stannis?\"\n\n\"He lost the battle at King's Landing,\" Edmure said unhappily. \"His fleet was burned, his army routed.\"\n\nA Lannister victory was ill tidings, but Catelyn could not share her brother's obvious dismay. She still had nightmares about the shadow she had seen slide across Renly's tent and the way the blood had come flowing out through the steel of his gorget. \"Stannis was no more a friend than Lord Tywin.\"\n\n\"You do not understand. Highgarden has declared for Joffrey. Dorne as well. All the south.\" His mouth tightened. \"And you see fit to loose the Kingslayer. You had no right.\"\n\n\"I had a mother's right.\" Her voice was calm, though the news about Highgarden was a savage blow to Robb's hopes. She could not think about that now, though.\n\n\"No right,\" Edmure repeated. \"He was Robb's captive, your king's captive, and Robb charged me to keep him safe.\"\n\n\"Brienne will keep him safe. She swore it on her sword.\"\n\n\"That woman?\"\n\n\"She will deliver Jaime to King's Landing, and bring Arya and Sansa back to us safely.\"\n\n\"Cersei will never give them up.\"\n\n\"Not Cersei. Tyrion. He swore it, in open court. And the Kingslayer swore it as well.\""
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"value": "\"Jaime's word is worthless. As for the Imp, it's said he took an axe in the head during the battle. He'll be dead before your Brienne reaches King's Landing, if she ever does.\"\n\n\"Dead?\" Could the gods truly be so merciless? She had made Jaime swear a hundred oaths, but it was his brother's promise she had pinned her hopes on.\n\nEdmure was blind to her distress. \"Jaime was my charge, and I mean to have him back. I've sent ravens-\"\n\n\"Ravens to whom? How many?\"\n\n\"Three,\" he said, \"so the message will be certain to reach Lord Bolton. By river or road, the way from Riverrun to King's Landing must needs take them close by Harrenhal.\"\n\n\"Harrenhal.\" The very word seemed to darken the room. Horror thickened her voice as she said, \"Edmure, do you know what you have done?\"\n\n\"Have no fear, I left your part out. I wrote that Jaime had escaped, and offered a thousand dragons for his recapture.\"\n\nWorse and worse, Catelyn thought in despair. My brother is a fool. Unbidden, unwanted, tears filled her eyes. \"If this was an escape,\" she said softly, \"and not an exchange of hostages, why should the Lannisters give my daughters to Brienne?\"\n\n\"It will never come to that. The Kingslayer will be returned to us, I have made certain of it.\"\n\n\"All you have made certain is that I shall never see my daughters again. Brienne might have gotten him to King's Landing safely... so long as no one was hunting for them. But now...\" Catelyn could not goon. \"Leave me, Edmure.\" She had no right to command him, herein the castle that would soon be his, yet her tone would brook no argument. \"Leave me to Father and my grief, I have no more to say to you. Go. Go.\" All she wanted was to lie down, to close her eyes and sleep, and pray no dreams would come."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "ARYA\n\nThe sky was as black as the walls of Harrenhal behind them, and the rain fell soft and steady, muffling the sound of their horses' hooves and running down their faces.\n\nThey rode north, away from the lake, following a rutted farm road across the torn fields and into the woods and streams. Arya took the lead, kicking her stolen horse to a brisk heedless trot until the trees closed in around her. Hot Pie and Gendry followed as best they could. Wolves howled off in the distance, and she could hear Hot Pie's heavy breathing. No one spoke. From time to time Arya glanced over her shoulder, to make sure the two boys had not fallen too far behind, and to see if they were being pursued.\n\nThey would be, she knew. She had stolen three horses from the stables and a map and a dagger from Roose Bolton's own solar, and killed a guard on the postern gate, slitting his throat when he knelt to pickup the worn iron coin that Jaqen H'ghar had given her. Someone would find him lying dead in his own blood, and then the hue and cry would go up. They would wake Lord Bolton and search Harrenhal from crenel to cellar, and when they did they would find the map and the dagger missing, along with some swords from the armory, bread and cheese from the kitchens, a baker boy, a 'prentice smith, and a cupbearer called Nan... or Weasel, or Arry, depending on who you asked.\n\nThe Lord of the Dreadfort would not come after them himself. Roose Bolton would stay abed, his pasty flesh dotted with leeches, giving commands in his whispery soft voice. His man Walton might lead the hunt, the one they called Steelshanks for the greaves he always wore on his long legs. Or perhaps it would be slobbery Vargo Hoat and his sellswords, who named themselves the Brave Companions. Others called them Bloody Mummers (though never to their faces), and sometimes the Footmen, for Lord Vargo's habit of cutting off the hands and feet of men who displeased him."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "If they catch us, he'll cutoff our hands and feet, Arya thought, and then Roose Bolton will peel the skin off us. She was still dressed in her page's garb, and on the breast over her heart was sewn Lord Bolton's sigil, the flayed man of the Dreadfort.\n\nEvery time she looked back, she half expected to see ablaze of torches pouring out the distant gates of Harrenhal or rushing along the tops of its huge high walls, but there was nothing. Harrenhal slept on, until it was lost in darkness and hidden behind the trees.\n\nWhen they crossed the first stream, Arya turned her horse aside and led them off the road, following the twisting course of the water fora quarter-mile before finally scrambling out and up a stony bank. If the hunters brought dogs, that might throw them off the scent, she hoped. They could not stay on the road. There is death on the road, she told herself, death on all the roads.\n\nGendry and Hot Pie did not question her choice. She had the map, after all, and Hot Pie seemed almost as terrified of her as of the men who might becoming after them. He had seen the guard she'd killed. It's better if he's scared of me, she told herself. That way he'll do like I say, instead of something stupid.\n\nShe should be more frightened herself, she knew. She was only ten, a skinny girl on a stolen horse with a dark forest ahead of her and men behind who would gladly cutoff her feet. Yet somehow she felt calmer than she ever had in Harrenhal. The rain had washed the guard's blood off her fingers, she wore a sword across her back, wolves were prowling through the dark like lean grey shadows, and Arya Stark was unafraid. Fear cuts deeper than swords, she whispered under her breath, the words that Syrio Forel had taught her, and Jaqen's words too, valar morghulis."
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"value": "The rain stopped and started again and stopped once more and started, but they had good cloaks to keep the water off. Arya kept them moving at a slow steady pace. It was too black beneath the trees to ride any faster; the boys were no horsemen, neither one, and the soft broken ground was treacherous with half-buried roots and hidden stones. They crossed another road, its deep ruts filled with runoff, but Arya shunned it. Up and down the rolling hills she took them, through brambles and briars and tangles of underbrush, along the bottoms of narrow gullies where branches heavy with wet leaves slapped at their faces as they passed.\n\nGendry's mare lost her footing in the mud once, going down hard on her hindquarters and spilling him from the saddle, but neither horse nor rider was hurt, and Gendry got that stubborn look on his face and mounted right up again. Not long after, they came upon three wolves devouring the corpse of a fawn. When Hot Pie's horse caught the scent, he shied and bolted. Two of the wolves fled as well, but the third raised his head and bared his teeth, prepared to defend his kill. \"Back off,\" Arya told Gendry. \"Slow, so you don't spook him.\" They edged their mounts away, until the wolf and his feast were no longer insight. Only then did she swing about to ride after Hot Pie, who was clinging desperately to the saddle as he crashed through the trees.\n\nLater they passed through a burned village, threading their way carefully between the shells of blackened hovels and past the bones of a dozen dead men hanging from a row of apple trees. When Hot Pie saw them he began to pray, a thin whispered plea for the Mother's mercy, repeated over and over. Arya looked up at the fleshless dead in their wet rotting clothes and said her own prayer. Ser Gregor, it went, Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei. She ended it with valar morghulis, touched Jaqen's coin where it nestled under her belt, and then reached up and plucked an apple from among the dead men as she rode beneath them. It was mushy and overripe, but she ate it worms and all."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was the day without a dawn. Slowly the sky lightened around them, but they never saw the sun. Black turned to grey, and colors crept timidly back into the world. The soldier pines were dressed in somber greens, the broadleafs in russets and faded golds already beginning to brown. They stopped long enough to water the horses and eat a cold, quick breakfast, ripping apart a loaf of the bread that Hot Pie had stolen from the kitchens and passing chunks of hard yellow cheese from hand to hand.\n\n\"Do you know where we're going?\" Gendry asked her.\n\n\"North,\" said Arya.\n\nHot Pie peered around uncertainly. \"Which way is north?\"\n\nShe used her cheese to point. \"That way.\"\n\n\"But there's no sun. How do you know?\"\n\n\"From the moss. See how it grows mostly on one side of the trees? That's south.\"\n\n\"What do we want with the north?\" Gendry wanted to know.\n\n\"The Trident.\" Arya unrolled the stolen map to show them. \"See? Once we reach the Trident, all we need to do is follow it upstream till we come to Riverrun, here.\" Her finger traced the path. \"It's along way, but we can't get lost so long as we keep to the river.\"\n\nHot Pie blinked at the map. \"Which one is Riverrun?\"\n\nRiverrun was painted as a castle tower, in the fork between the flowing blue lines of two rivers, the Tumblestone and the Red Fork. \"There.\" She touched it. \"Riverrun, it reads.\"\n\n\"You can read writing?\" he said to her, wonderingly, as if she'd said she could walk on water."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "She nodded."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We'll be safe once we reach Riverrun.\"\n\n\"We will? Why?\"\n\nBecause Riverrun is my grandfather's castle, and my brother Robb will be there, she wanted to say. She bit her lip and rolled up the map. \"We just will. But only if we get there.\" She was the first one back in the saddle. It made her feel bad to hide the truth from Hot Pie, but she did not trust him with her secret. Gendry knew, but that was different. Gendry had his own secret, though even he didn't seem to know what it was.\n\nThat day Arya quickened their pace, keeping the horses to a trot as long as she dared, and sometimes spurring to a gallop when she spied a flat stretch of field before them. That was seldom enough, though; the ground was growing hillier as they went. The hills were not high, nor especially steep, but there seemed to be no end of them, and they soon grew tired of climbing up one and down the other, and found themselves following the lay of the land, along streambeds and through amaze of shallow wooded valleys where the trees made a solid canopy overhead.\n\nFrom time to time she sent Hot Pie and Gendry on while she doubled back to try to confuse their trail, listening all the while for the first sign of pursuit. Too slow, she thought to herself, chewing her lip, we're going too slow, they'll catch us for certain. Once, from the crest of a ridge, she spied dark shapes crossing a stream in the valley behind them, and for half a heartbeat she feared that Roose Bolton's riders were on them, but when she looked again she realized they were only a pack of wolves. She cupped her hands around her mouth and howled down at them, \"Ahooooooooo, ahooooooooo.\" When the largest of the wolves lifted its head and howled back, the sound made Arya shiver."
},
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"from": "human",
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"value": "By midday Hot Pie had begun to complain. His arse was sore, he told them, and the saddle was rubbing him raw inside his legs, and besides he had to get some sleep. \"I'm so tired I'm going to falloff the horse.\"\n\nArya looked at Gendry. \"If he falls off, who do you think will find him first, the wolves or the Mummers?\"\n\n\"The wolves,\" said Gendry. \"Better noses.\"\n\nHot Pie opened his mouth and closed it. He did not falloff his horse. The rain began again a short time later. They still had not seen so much as a glimpse of the sun. It was growing colder, and pale white mists were threading between the pines and blowing across the bare burned fields.\n\nGendry was having almost as bad a time of it as Hot Pie, though he was too stubborn to complain. He sat awkwardly in the saddle, a determined look on his face beneath his shaggy black hair, but Arya could tell he was no horseman. I should have remembered, she thought to herself. She had been riding as long as she could remember, ponies when she was little and later horses, but Gendry and Hot Pie were city-born, and in the city smallfolk walked. Yoren had given them mounts when he took them from King's Landing, but sitting on a donkey and plodding up the kingsroad behind a wagon was one thing. Guiding a hunting horse through wild woods and burned fields was something else.\n\nShe would make much better time on her own, Arya knew, but she could not leave them. They were her pack, her friends, the only living friends that remained to her, and if not for her they would still be safe at Harrenhal, Gendry sweating at his forge and Hot Pie in the kitchens. If the Mummers catch us, I'll tell them that I'm Ned Stark's daughter and sister to the King in the North. I'll command them to take me to my brother, and to do no harm to Hot Pie and Gendry. They might not believe her, though, and even if they did... Lord Bolton washer brother's bannerman, but he frightened her all the same. I won't let them take us, she vowed silently, reaching back over her shoulder to touch the hilt of the sword that Gendry had stolen for her. I won't."
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"from": "human",
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"value": "Late that afternoon, they emerged from beneath the trees and found themselves on the banks of a river. Hot Pie gave a whoop of delight. \"The Trident! Now all we have to do is go upstream, like you said. We're almost there!\"\n\nArya chewed her lip. \"I don't think this is the Trident.\" The river was swollen by the rain, but even so it couldn't be much more than thirty feet across. She remembered the Trident as being much wider. \"It's too little to be the Trident,\" she told them, \"and we didn't come far enough.\"\n\n\"Yes we did,\" Hot Pie insisted. \"We rode all day, and hardly stopped at all. We must have come along way.\"\n\n\"Let's have a look at that map again,\" said Gendry.\n\nArya dismounted, took out the map, unrolled it. The rain pattered against the sheepskin and ran off in rivulets. \"We're someplace here, I think,\" she said, pointing, as the boys peered over her shoulders.\n\n\"But,\" said Hot Pie, \"that's hardly anyways at all. See, Harrenhal's thereby your finger, you're almost touching it. And we rode all day!\"\n\n\"There's miles and miles before we reach the Trident,\" she said. \"We won't be therefor days. This must be some different river, one of these, see.\" She showed him some of the thinner blue lines the mapmaker had painted in, each with a name painted in fine script beneath it. \"The Darry, the Greenapple, the Maiden... here, this one, the Little Willow, it might be that.\"\n\nHot Pie looked from the line to the river. \"It doesn't look so little tome.\""
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"value": "Gendry was frowning as well. \"The one you're pointing at runs into that other one, see.\"\n\n\"The Big Willow,\" she read.\n\n\"The Big Willow, then. See, and the Big Willow runs into the Trident, so we could follow the one to the other, but we'd need to go downstream, not up. Only if this river isn't the Little Willow, if it's this other one here...\"\n\n\"Rippledown Rill,\" Arya read.\n\n\"See, it loops around and flows down toward the lake, back to Harrenhal.\" He traced the line with a finger.\n\nHot Pie's eyes grew wide. \"No! They'll kill us for sure.\"\n\n\"We have to know which river this is,\" declared Gendry, in his stubbornest voice. \"We have to know.\"\n\n\"Well, we don't.\" The map might have names written beside the blue lines, but no one had written a name on the riverbank. \"We won't go up or downstream,\" she decided, rolling up the map. \"We'll cross and keep going north, like we were.\"\n\n\"Can horses swim?\" asked Hot Pie. \"It looks deep, Arry. What if there are snakes?\"\n\n\"Are you sure we're going north?\" asked Gendry. \"All these hills... if we got turned around...\"\n\n\"The moss on the trees-\"\n\nHe pointed to a nearby tree. \"That tree's got moss on three sides, and that next one has no moss at all. We could be lost, just riding around in a circle.\"\n\n\"We could be,\" said Arya, \"but I'm going to cross the river anyway. You can come or you can stay here.\" She climbed back into the saddle, ignoring the both of them. If they didn't want to follow, they could find Riverrun on their own, though more likely the Mummers would just find them."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"value": "She had to ride a good half mile along the bank before she finally found a place where it looked as though it might be safe to cross, and even then her mare was reluctant to enter the water. The river, whatever its name, was running brown and fast, and the deep part in the middle came up past the horse's belly. Water filled her boots, but she pressed in her heels all the same and climbed out on the far bank. From behind she heard splashing, and a mare's nervous whinny. They followed, then. Good. She turned to watch as the boys struggled across and emerged dripping beside her. \"It wasn't the Trident,\" she told them. \"It wasn't.\"\n\nThe next river was shallower and easier to ford. That one wasn't the Trident either, and no one argued with her when she told them they would cross it.\n\nDusk was settling as they stopped to rest the horses once more and share another meal of bread and cheese. \"I'm cold and wet,\" Hot Pie complained. \"We're along way from Harrenhal now, for sure. We could have us afire-\"\n\n\"NO!\" Arya and Gendry both said, at the exact same instant. Hot Pie quailed a little. Arya gave Gendry a sideways look. He said it with me, like Jon used to do, back in Winterfell. She missed Jon Snow the most of all her brothers.\n\n\"Could we sleep at least?\" Hot Pie asked. \"I'm so tired, Arry, and my arse is sore. I think I've got blisters.\"\n\n\"You'll have more than that if you're caught,\" she said. \"We've got to keep going. We've got to.\"\n\n\"But it's almost dark, and you can't even seethe moon.\""
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Get back on your horse.\"\n\nPlodding along at a slow walking pace as the light faded around them, Arya found her own exhaustion weighing heavy on her. She needed sleep as much as Hot Pie, but they dare not. If they slept, they might open their eyes to find Vargo Hoat standing over them with Shagwell the Fool and Faithful Urswyck and Rorge and Biter and Septon Utt and all his other monsters.\n\nYet after awhile the motion of her horse became as soothing as the rocking of a cradle, and Arya found her eyes growing heavy. She let them close, just for an instant, then snapped them wide again. I can't go to sleep, she screamed at herself silently, I can't, I can't. She knuckled at her eye and rubbed it hard to keep it open, clutching the reins tightly and kicking her mount to a canter. But neither she nor the horse could sustain the pace, and it was only a few moments before they fell back to a walk again, and a few more until her eyes closed a second time. This time they did not open quite so quickly.\n\nWhen they did, she found that her horse had come to a stop and was nibbling at a tuft of grass, while Gendry was shaking her arm. \"You fell asleep,\" he told her.\n\n\"I was just resting my eyes.\"\n\n\"You were resting them along while, then. Your horse was wandering in a circle, but it wasn't till she stopped that I realized you were sleeping. Hot Pie's just as bad, he rode into a tree limb and got knocked off, you should have heard him yell. Even that didn't wake you up. You need to stop and sleep.\"\n\n\"I can keep going as long as you can.\" She yawned."
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Liar,\" he said. \"You keep going if you want to be stupid, but I'm stopping. I'll take the first watch. You sleep.\"\n\n\"What about Hot Pie?\"\n\nGendry pointed. Hot Pie was already on the ground, curled up beneath his cloak on abed of damp leaves and snoring softly. He had a big wedge of cheese in one fist, but it looked as though he had fallen asleep between bites.\n\nIt was no good arguing, Arya realized; Gendry had the right of it. The Mummers will need to sleep too, she told herself, hoping it was true. She was so weary it was a struggle even to get down from the saddle, but she remembered to hobble her horse before finding a place beneath a beech tree. The ground was hard and damp. She wondered how long it would be before she slept in abed again, with hot food and afire to warm her. The last thing she did before closing her eyes was unsheathe her sword and lay it down beside her. \"Ser Gregor,\" she whispered, yawning. \"Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and... the Tickler... the Hound...\"\n\nHer dreams were red and savage. The Mummers were in them, four at least, a pale Lyseni and a dark brutal axeman from Ib, the scarred Dothraki horse lord called Iggo and a Dornishman whose name she never knew. On and on they came, riding through the rain in rusting mail and wet leather, swords and axe clanking against their saddles. They thought they were hunting her, she knew with all the strange sharp certainty of dreams, but they were wrong. She was hunting them.\n\nShe was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike. The Lyseni's mount reared and screamed in terror, and the others shouted atone another in mantalk, but before they could act the other wolves came hurtling from the darkness and the rain, a great pack of them, gaunt and wet and silent."
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{
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"value": "The fight was short but bloody. The hairy man went down as he unslung his axe, the dark one died stringing an arrow, and the pale man from Lys tried to bolt. Her brothers and sisters ran him down, turning him again and again, coming at him from all sides, snapping at the legs of his horse and tearing the throat from the rider when he came crashing to the earth.\n\nOnly the belled man stood his ground. His horse kicked in the head of one of her sisters, and he cut another almost in half with his curved silvery claw as his hair tinkled softly.\n\nFilled with rage, she leapt onto his back, knocking him head-first from his saddle. Her jaws locked on his arm as they fell, her teeth sinking through the leather and wool and soft flesh. When they landed she gave a savage jerk with her head and ripped the limb loose from his shoulder. Exulting, she shook it back and forth in her mouth, scattering the warm red droplets amidst the cold black rain."
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"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "TYRION\n\nHe woke to the creak of old iron hinges.\n\n\"Who?\" he croaked. At least he had his voice back, raw and hoarse though it was. The fever was still on him, and Tyrion had no notion of the hour. How long had he slept this time? He was so weak, so damnably weak. \"Who?\" he called again, more loudly. Torchlight spilled through the open door, but within the chamber the only light came from the stub of a candle beside his bed.\n\nWhen he saw a shape moving toward him, Tyrion shivered. Herein Maegor's Holdfast, every servant was in the queen's pay, so any visitor might be another of Cersei's catspaws, sent to finish the work Ser Mandon had begun.\n\nThen the man stepped into the candlelight, got a good look at the dwarf's paleface, and chortled. \"Cut yourself shaving, did you?\"\n\nTyrion's fingers went to the great gash that ran from above one eye down to his jaw, across what remained of his nose. The proud flesh was still raw and warm to the touch. \"With a fearful big razor, yes.\"\n\nBronn's coal-black hair was freshly washed and brushed straight back from the hard lines of his face, and he was dressed in high boots of soft, tooled leather, a wide belt studded with nuggets of silver, and a cloak of pale green silk. Across the dark grey wool of his doublet, a burning chain was embroidered diagonally in bright green thread.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" Tyrion demanded of him. \"I sent for you... it must have been a fortnight ago.\"\n\n\"Four days ago, more like,\" the sellsword said, \"and I've been here twice, and found you dead to the world.\""
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"value": "\"Not dead. Though my sweet sister did try.\" Perhaps he should not have said that aloud, but Tyrion was past caring. Cersei was behind Ser Mandon's attempt to kill him, he knew that in his gut. \"What's that ugly thing on your chest?\"\n\nBronn grinned. \"My knightly sigil. A flaming chain, green, on a smoke-grey field. By your lord father's command, I'm Ser Bronn of the Blackwater now, Imp. See you don't forget it.\"\n\nTyrion put his hands on the featherbed and squirmed back a few inches, against the pillows. \"I was the one who promised you knighthood, remember?\" He had liked that'by your lord father's command\" not at all. Lord Tywin had wasted little time. Moving his son from the Tower of the Hand to claim it for himself was a message anyone could read, and this was another. \"I lose half my nose and you gain a knighthood. The gods have a deal to answer for.\" His voice was sour. \"Did my father dub you himself?\"\n\n\"No. Them of us as survived the fight at the winch towers got ourselves dabbed by the High Septon and dubbed by the Kingsguard. Took half the bloody day, with only three of the White Swords left to do the honors.\"\n\n\"I knew Ser Mandon died in the battle.\" Shoved into the river by Pod, half a heartbeat before the treacherous bastard could drive his sword through my heart. \"Who else was lost?\"\n\n\"The Hound,\" said Bronn. \"Not dead, only gone. The gold cloaks say he turned craven and you led a sortie in his place.\"\n\nNot one of my better notions. Tyrion could feel the scar tissue pull tight when he frowned. He waved Bronn toward a chair. \"My sister has mistaken me fora mushroom. She keeps me in the dark and feeds me shit. Pod's a good lad, but the knot in his tongue is the size of Casterly Rock, and I don't trust half of what he tells me. I sent him to bring Ser Jacelyn and he came back and told me he's dead.\""
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"value": "\"Him, and thousands more.\" Bronn sat.\n\n\"How?\" Tyrion demanded, feeling that much sicker.\n\n\"During the battle. Your sister sent the Kettleblacks to fetch the king back to the Red Keep, the way I hear it. When the gold cloaks saw him leaving, half of them decided they'd leave with him. Ironhand put himself in their path and tried to order them back to the walls. They say Bywater was blistering them good and almost had'em ready to turn when someone put an arrow through his neck. He didn't seem so fearsome then, so they dragged him off his horse and killed him.\"\n\nAnother debt to lay at Cersei's door. \"My nephew,\" he said, \"Joffrey. Was he in any danger?\"\n\n\"No more'n some, and less than most.\"\n\n\"Had he suffered any harm? Taken a wound? Mussed his hair, stubbed his toe, cracked a nail?\"\n\n\"Not as I heard.\"\n\n\"I warned Cersei what would happen. Who commands the gold cloaks now?\"\n\n\"Your lord father's given them to one of his westermen, some knight named Addam Marbrand.\"\n\nInmost cases the gold cloaks would have resented having an outsider placed over them, but Ser Addam Marbrand was a shrewd choice. Like Jaime, he was the sort of man other men liked to follow. I have lost the City Watch. \"I sent Pod looking for Shagga, but he's had no luck.\"\n\n\"The Stone Crows are still in the kingswood. Shagga seems to have taken a fancy to the place. Timett led the Burned Men home, with all the plunder they took from Stannis's camp after the fighting. Chella turned up with a dozen Black Ears at the River Gate one morning, but your father's red cloaks chased them off while the Kingslanders threw dung and cheered.\""
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"value": "Ingrates. The Black Ears died for them. Whilst Tyrion lay drugged and dreaming, his own blood had pulled his claws out, one by one. \"I want you to go to my sister. Her precious son made it through the battle unscathed, so Cersei has no more need of a hostage. She swore to free Alayaya once-\"\n\n\"She did. Eight, nine days ago, after the whipping.\"\n\nTyrion shoved himself up higher, ignoring the sudden stab of pain through his shoulder. \"Whipping?\"\n\n\"They tied her to a post in the yard and scourged her, then shoved her out the gate naked and bloody.\"\n\nShe was learning to read, Tyrion thought, absurdly. Across his face the scar stretched tight, and fora moment it felt as though his head would burst with rage. Alayaya was a whore, true enough, but a sweeter, braver, more innocent girl he had seldom met. Tyrion had never touched her; she had been no more than a veil, to hide Shae. In his carelessness, he had never thought what the role might cost her. \"I promised my sister I would treat Tommen as she treated Alayaya,\" he remembered aloud. He felt as though he might retch. \"How can I scourge an eight-year-old boy?\" But if I don't, Cersei wins.\n\n\"You don't have Tommen,\" Bronn said bluntly. \"Once she learned that Ironhand was dead, the queen sent the Kettleblacks after him, and no one at Rosby had the balls to say them nay.\"\n\nAnother blow; yet a relief as well, he must admit it. He was fond of Tommen. \"The Kettleblacks were supposed to be ours,\" he reminded Bronn with more than a touch of irritation."
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"value": "\"They were, so long as I could give them two of your pennies for everyone they had from the queen, but now she's raised the stakes. Osney and Osfryd were made knights after the battle, same as me. Gods know what for, no one saw them do any fighting.\"\n\nMy hirelings betray me, my friends are scourged and shamed, and I lie here rotting, Tyrion thought. I thought I won the bloody battle. Is this what triumph tastes like? \"Is it true that Stannis was put to rout by Renly's ghost?\"\n\nBronn smiled thinly. \"From the winch towers, all we saw was banners in the mud and men throwing down their spears to run, but there's hundreds in the pot shops and brothels who'll tell you how they saw Lord Renly kill this one or that one. Most of Stannis's host had been Renly's to start, and they went right back over at the sight of him in that shiny green armor.\"\n\nAfter all his planning, after the sortie and the bridge of ships, after getting his face slashed in two, Tyrion had been eclipsed by a dead man. If indeed Renly is dead. Something else he would need to look into. \"How did Stannis escape?\"\n\n\"His Lyseni kept their galleys out in the bay, beyond your chain. When the battle turned bad, they put in along the bay shore and took off as many as they could. Men were killing each other to get aboard, toward the end.\"\n\n\"What of Robb Stark, what has he been doing?\"\n\n\"There's some of his wolves burning their way down toward Duskendale. Your father's sending this Lord Tarly to sort them out. I'd half a mind to join him. It's said he's a good soldier, and openhanded with the plunder.\""
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"value": "The thought of losing Bronn was the final straw. \"No. Your place is here. You're the captain of the Hand's guard.\"\n\n\"You're not the Hand,\" Bronn reminded him sharply. \"Your father is, and he's got his own bloody guard.\"\n\n\"What happened to all the men you hired for me?\"\n\n\"Some died at the winch towers. That uncle of yours, Ser Kevan, he paid the rest of us and tossed us out.\"\n\n\"How good of him,\" Tyrion said acidly. \"Does that mean you've lost your taste for gold?\"\n\n\"Not bloody likely.\"\n\n\"Good,\" said Tyrion, \"because as it happens, I still have need of you. What do you know of Ser Mandon Moore?\"\n\nBronn laughed. \"I know he's bloody well drowned.\"\n\n\"I owe him a great debt, but how to pay it?\" He touched his face, feeling the scar. \"I know precious little of the man, if truth be told.\"\n\n\"He had eyes like a fish and he wore a white cloak. What else do you need to know?\"\n\n\"Everything,\" said Tyrion, \"fora start.\" What he wanted was proof that Ser Mandon had been Cersei's, but he dare not say so aloud. In the Red Keep a man did best to hold his tongue. There were rats in the walls, and little birds who talked too much, and spiders. \"Help me up,\" he said, struggling with the bedclothes. \"It's time I paid a call on my father, and past time I let myself be seen again.\"\n\n\"Such a pretty sight,\" mocked Bronn.\n\n\"What's half a nose, on a face like mine? But speaking of pretty, is Margaery Tyrell in King's Landing yet?\""
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"value": "\"No. She's coming, though, and the city's mad with love for her. The Tyrells have been carting food up from Highgarden and giving it away in her name. Hundreds of wayns each day. There's thousands of Tyrell men swaggering about with little golden roses sewn on their doublets, and not a one is buying his own wine. Wife, widow, or whore, the women are all giving up their virtue to every peach-fuzz boy with a gold rose on his teat.\"\n\nThey spit on me, and buy drinks for the Tyrells. Tyrion slid from the bed to the floor. His legs turned wobbly beneath him, the room spun, and he had to grasp Bronn's arm to keep from pitching headlong into the rushes. \"Pod!\" he shouted. \"Podrick Payne! Wherein the seven hells are you?\" Pain gnawed at him like a toothless dog. Tyrion hated weakness, especially his own. It shamed him, and shame made him angry. \"Pod, get inhere!\"\n\nThe boy came running. When he saw Tyrion standing and clutching Bronn's arm, he gaped at them. \"My lord. You stood. Is that... do you... do you need wine? Dreamwine? Should I get the maester? He said you must stay. Abed, I mean.\"\n\n\"I have stayed abed too long. Bring me some clean garb.\"\n\n\"Garb?\"\n\nHow the boy could be so clearheaded and resourceful in battle and so confused at all other times Tyrion could never comprehend. \"Clothing,\" he repeated. \"Tunic, doublet, breeches, hose. For me. To dress in. So I can leave this bloody cell.\""
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"value": "It took all three of them to clothe him. Hideous though his face might be, the worst of his wounds was the one at the juncture of shoulder and arm, where his own mail had been driven back into his armpit by an arrow. Pus and blood still seeped from the discolored flesh whenever Maester Frenken changed his dressing, and any movement sent a stab of agony through him.\n\nIn the end, Tyrion settled fora pair of breeches and an oversized bed robe that hung loosely about his shoulders. Bronn yanked his boots onto his feet while Pod went in search of a stick for him to lean on. He drank a cup of dreamwine to fortify himself. The wine was sweetened with honey, with just enough of the poppy to make his wounds bearable fora time.\n\nEven so, he was dizzy by the time he turned the latch, and the descent down the twisting stone steps made his legs tremble. He walked with the stick in one hand and the other on Pod's shoulder. A serving girl was coming up as they were going down. She stared at them with wide white eyes, as if she were looking at a ghost. The dwarf has risen from the dead, Tyrion thought. And look, he's uglier than ever, run tell your friends.\n\nMaegor's Holdfast was the strongest place in the Red Keep, a castle within the castle, surrounded by a deep dry moat lined with spikes. The drawbridge was up for the night when they reached the door. Ser Meryn Trant stood before it in his pale armor and white cloak. \"Lower the bridge,\" Tyrion commanded him.\n\n\"The queen's orders are to raise the bridge at night.\" Ser Meryn had always been Cersei's creature."
}
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[
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"value": "Advance the plot as the writer's tale assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 6"
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"value": "It took all three of them to clothe him. Hideous though his face might be, the worst of his wounds was the one at the juncture of shoulder and arm, where his own mail had been driven back into his armpit by an arrow. Pus and blood still seeped from the discolored flesh whenever Maester Frenken changed his dressing, and any movement sent a stab of agony through him.\n\nIn the end, Tyrion settled fora pair of breeches and an oversized bed robe that hung loosely about his shoulders. Bronn yanked his boots onto his feet while Pod went in search of a stick for him to lean on. He drank a cup of dreamwine to fortify himself. The wine was sweetened with honey, with just enough of the poppy to make his wounds bearable fora time.\n\nEven so, he was dizzy by the time he turned the latch, and the descent down the twisting stone steps made his legs tremble. He walked with the stick in one hand and the other on Pod's shoulder. A serving girl was coming up as they were going down. She stared at them with wide white eyes, as if she were looking at a ghost. The dwarf has risen from the dead, Tyrion thought. And look, he's uglier than ever, run tell your friends.\n\nMaegor's Holdfast was the strongest place in the Red Keep, a castle within the castle, surrounded by a deep dry moat lined with spikes. The drawbridge was up for the night when they reached the door. Ser Meryn Trant stood before it in his pale armor and white cloak. \"Lower the bridge,\" Tyrion commanded him.\n\n\"The queen's orders are to raise the bridge at night.\" Ser Meryn had always been Cersei's creature."
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"value": "\"The queen's asleep, and I have business with my father.\"\n\nThere was magic in the name of Lord Tywin Lannister. Grumbling, Ser Meryn Trant gave the command, and the drawbridge was lowered. A second Kingsguard knight stood sentry across the moat. Ser Osmund Kettleblack managed a smile when he saw Tyrion waddling toward him. \"Feeling stronger, m'lord?\"\n\n\"Much. When's the next battle? I can scarcely wait.\"\n\nWhen Pod and he reached the serpentine steps, however, Tyrion could only gape at them in dismay. I will never climb those by myself, he confessed to himself. Swallowing his dignity, he asked Bronn to carry him, hoping against hope that at this hour there would be no one to see and smile, no one to tell the tale of the dwarf being carried up the steps like a babe in arms.\n\nThe outer ward was crowded with tents and pavilions, dozens of them. \"Tyrell men,\" Podrick Payne explained as they threaded their way through amaze of silk and canvas. \"Lord Rowan's too, and Lord Redwyne's. There wasn't room enough for all. In the castle, I mean. Some took rooms. Rooms in the city. In inns and all. They're here for the wedding. The king's wedding, King Joffrey's. Will you be strong enough to attend, my lord?\"\n\n\"Ravening weasels could not keep me away.\" There was this to be said for weddings over battles, at least; it was less likely that someone would cutoff your nose.\n\nLights still burned dimly behind shuttered windows in the Tower of the Hand. The men on the door wore the crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms of his father's household guard. Tyrion knew them both, and they admitted him on sight... though neither could bear to look long at his face, he noted."
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"value": "Within, they came upon Ser Addam Marbrand, descending the turnpike stair in the ornate black breastplate and cloth-of-gold cloak of an officer in the City Watch. \"My lord,\" he said, \"how good to see you on your feet. I'd heard-\"\n\n\"-rumors of a small grave being dug? Me too. Under the circumstances it seemed best to getup. I hear you're commander of the City Watch. Shall I offer congratulations or condolences?\"\n\n\"Both, I fear.\" Ser Addam smiled. \"Death and desertion have left me with some forty-four hundred. Only the gods and Littlefinger know how we are to goon paying wages for so many, but your sister forbids me to dismiss any.\"\n\nStill anxious, Cersei? The battle's done, the gold cloaks won't help you now. \"Do you come from my father?\" he asked.\n\n\"Aye. I fear I did not leave him in the best of moods. Lord Tywin feels forty-four hundred guardsmen more than sufficient to find one lost squire, but your cousin Tyrek remains missing.\"\n\nTyrek was the son of his late Uncle Tygett, a boy of thirteen. He had vanished in the riot, not long after wedding the Lady Ermesande, a suckling babe who happened to be the last surviving heir of House Hayford. And likely the first bride in the history of the Seven Kingdoms to be widowed before she was weaned. \"I couldn't find him either,\" confessed Tyrion.\n\n\"He's feeding worms,\" said Bronn with his usual tact. \"Ironhand looked for him, and the eunuch rattled a nice fat purse. They had no more luck than we did. Give it up, ser.\""
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"value": "Ser Addam gazed at the sellsword with distaste. \"Lord Tywin is stubborn where his blood is concerned. He will have the lad, alive or dead, and I mean to oblige him.\" He looked back to Tyrion. \"You will find your father in his solar.\"\n\nMy solar, thought Tyrion. \"I believe I know the way.\"\n\nThe way was up more steps, but this time he climbed under his own power, with one hand on Pod's shoulder. Bronn opened the door for him. Lord Tywin Lannister was seated beneath the window, writing by the glow of an oil lamp. He raised his eyes at the sound of the latch. \"Tyrion.\" Calmly, he laid his quill aside.\n\n\"I'm pleased you remember me, my lord.\" Tyrion released his grip on Pod, leaned his weight on the stick, and waddled closer. Something is wrong, he knew at once.\n\n\"Ser Bronn,\" Lord Tywin said, \"Podrick. Perhaps you had best wait without until we are done.\"\n\nThe look Bronn gave the Hand was little less than insolent; nonetheless, he bowed and withdrew, with Pod on his heels. The heavy door swung shut behind them, and Tyrion Lannister was alone with his father. Even with the windows of the solar shuttered against the night, the chill in the room was palpable. What sort of lies has Cersei been telling him?\n\nThe Lord of Casterly Rock was as lean as a man twenty years younger, even handsome in his austere way. Stiff blond whiskers covered his cheeks, framing astern face, a bald head, a hard mouth. About his throat he wore a chain of golden hands, the fingers of each clasping the wrist of the next. \"That's a handsome chain,\" Tyrion said. Though it looked better on me."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lord Tywin ignored the sally."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You had best be seated. Is it wise for you to be out of your sickbed?\"\n\n\"I am sick of my sickbed.\" Tyrion knew how much his father despised weakness. He claimed the nearest chair. \"Such pleasant chambers you have. Would you believe it, while I was dying, someone moved me to a dark little cell in Maegor's?\"\n\n\"The Red Keep is overcrowded with wedding guests. Once they depart, we will find you more suitable accommodations.\"\n\n\"I rather liked these accommodations. Have you set a date for this great wedding?\"\n\n\"Joffrey and Margaery shall marry on the first day of the new year, which as it happens is also the first day of the new century. The ceremony will herald the dawn of anew era.\"\n\nAnew Lannister era, thought Tyrion. \"Oh, bother, I fear I've made other plans for that day.\"\n\n\"Did you come here just to complain of your bedchamber and make your lame japes? I have important letters to finish.\"\n\n\"Important letters. To be sure.\"\n\n\"Some battles are won with swords and spears, others with quills and ravens. Spare me these coy reproaches, Tyrion. I visited your sickbed as often as Maester Ballabar would allow it, when you seemed like to die.\" He steepled his fingers under his chin. \"Why did you dismiss Ballabar?\"\n\nTyrion shrugged. \"Maester Frenken is not so determined to keep me insensate.\"\n\n\"Ballabar came to the city in Lord Redwyne's retinue. A gifted healer, it's said. It was kind of Cersei to ask him to look after you. She feared for your life.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Feared that I might keep it, you mean."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Doubtless that's why she's never once left my bedside.\"\n\n\"Don't be impertinent. Cersei has a royal wedding to plan, I am waging a war, and you have been out of danger for at least a fortnight.\" Lord Tywin studied his son's disfigured face, his pale green eyes unflinching. \"Though the wound is ghastly enough, I'll grant you. What madness possessed you?\"\n\n\"The foe was at the gates with a battering ram. If Jaime had led the sortie, you'd call it valor.\"\n\n\"Jaime would never be so foolish as to remove his helm in battle. I trust you killed the man who cut you?\"\n\n\"Oh, the wretch is dead enough.\" Though it had been Podrick Payne who'd killed Ser Madon, shoving him into the river to drown beneath the weight of his armor. \"A dead enemy is a joy forever,\" Tyrion said blithely, though Ser Mandon was not his true enemy. The man had no reason to want him dead. He was only a catspaw, and I believe I know the cat. She told him to make certain I did not survive the battle. But without proof Lord Tywin would never listen to such a charge. \"Why are you herein the city, Father?\" he asked. \"Shouldn't you be off fighting Lord Stannis or Robb Stark or someone?\" And the sooner the better.\n\n\"Until Lord Redwyne brings his fleet up, we lack the ships to assail Dragonstone. It makes no matter. Stannis Baratheon's sunset on the Blackwater. As for Stark, the boy is still in the west, but a large force of northmen under Helman Tallhart and Robett Glover are descending toward Duskendale. I've sent Lord Tarly to meet them, while Ser Gregor drives up the kingsroad to cutoff their retreat. Tallhart and Glover will be caught between them, with a third of Stark's strength.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Duskendale?\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was nothing at Duskendale worth such a risk. Had the Young Wolf finally blundered?\n\n\"It's nothing you need trouble yourself with. Your face is pale as death, and there's blood seeping through your dressings. Say what you want and take yourself back to bed.\"\n\n\"What I want...\" His throat felt raw and tight. What did he want? More than you can ever give me, Father. \"Pod tells me that Littlefinger's been made Lord of Harrenhal.\"\n\n\"An empty title, so long as Roose Bolton holds the castle for Robb Stark, yet Lord Baelish was desirous of the honor. He did us good service in the matter of the Tyrell marriage. A Lannister pays his debts.\"\n\nThe Tyrell marriage had been Tyrion's notion, in point of fact, but it would seem churlish to try to claim that now. \"That title may not be as empty as you think,\" he warned. \"Littlefinger does nothing without good reason. But be that as it may. You said something about paying debts, I believe?\"\n\n\"And you want your own reward, is that it? Very well. What is it you would have of me? Lands, castle, some office?\"\n\n\"A little bloody gratitude would make a nice start.\"\n\nLord Tywin stared at him, unblinking. \"Mummers and monkeys require applause. So did Aerys, for that matter. You did as you were commanded, and I am sure it was to the best of your ability. No one denies the part you played.\"\n\n\"That part I played?\" What nostrils Tyrion had left must surely have flared. \"I saved your bloody city, it seems tome.\"\n\n\"Most people seem to feel that it was my attack on Lord Stannis's flank that turned the tide of battle. Lords Tyrell, Rowan, Redwyne, and Tarly fought nobly as well, and I'm told it was your sister Cersei who set the pyromancers to making the wildfire that destroyed the Baratheon fleet.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"While all I did was get my nosehairs trimmed, is that it?\" Tyrion could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.\n\n\"Your chain was a clever stroke, and crucial to our victory. Is that what you wanted to hear? I am told we have you to thank for our Dornish alliance as well. You maybe pleased to learn that Myrcella has arrived safely at Sunspear. Ser Arys Oakheart writes that she has taken a great liking to Princess Arianne, and that Prince Trystane is enchanted with her. I mislike giving House Martell a hostage, but I suppose that could not be helped.\"\n\n\"We'll have our own hostage,\" Tyrion said. \"A council seat was also part of the bargain. Unless Prince Doran brings an army when he comes to claim it, he'll be putting himself in our power.\"\n\n\"Would that a council seat were all Martell came to claim,\" Lord Tywin said. \"You promised him vengeance as well.\"\n\n\"I promised him justice.\"\n\n\"Call it what you will. It still comes down to blood.\"\n\n\"Not an item in short supply, surely? I splashed through lakes of it during the battle.\" Tyrion saw no reason not to cut to the heart of the matter. \"Or have you grown so fond of Gregor Clegane that you cannot bear to part with him?\"\n\n\"Ser Gregor has his uses, as did his brother. Every lord has need of a beast from time to time... a lesson you seem to have learned, judging from Ser Bronn and those clansmen of yours.\"\n\nTyrion thought of Timett's burned eye, Shagga with his axe, Chella in her necklace of dried ears. And Bronn. Bronn most of all. \"The woods are full of beasts,\" he reminded his father. \"The alleyways as well.\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"True. Perhaps other dogs would hunt as well. I shall think on it. If there is nothing else...\"\n\n\"You have important letters, yes.\" Tyrion rose on unsteady legs, closed his eyes for an instant as a wave of dizziness washed over him, and took a shaky step toward the door. Later, he would reflect that he should have taken a second, and then a third. Instead he turned. \"What do I want, you ask? I'll tell you what I want. I want what is mine by rights. I want Casterly Rock.\"\n\nHis father's mouth grew hard. \"Your brother's birthright?\"\n\n\"The knights of the Kingsguard are forbidden to marry, to father children, and to hold land, you know that as well as I. The day Jaime put on that white cloak, he gave up his claim to Casterly Rock, but never once have you acknowledged it. It's past time. I want you to stand up before the realm and proclaim that I am your son and your lawful heir.\"\n\nLord Tywin's eyes were a pale green flecked with gold, as luminous as they were merciless. \"Casterly Rock,\" he declared in a flat cold dead tone. And then, \"Never.\"\n\nThe word hung between them, huge, sharp, poisoned.\n\nI knew the answer before I asked, Tyrion said. Eighteen years since Jaime joined the Kingsguard, and I never once raised the issue. I must have known. I must always have known. \"Why?\" he made himself ask, though he knew he would rue the question.\n\n\"You ask that? You, who killed your mother to come into the world? You are an ill-made, devious, disobedient, spiteful little creature full of envy, lust, and low cunning. Men's laws give you the right to bear my name and display my colors, since I cannot prove that you are not mine. To teach me humility, the gods have condemned me to watch you waddle about wearing that proud lion that was my father's sigil and his father's before him. But neither gods nor men shall ever compel me to let you turn Casterly Rock into your whorehouse.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My whorehouse?\" The dawn broke; Tyrion understood all at once where this bile had come from. He ground his teeth together and said, \"Cersei told you about Alayaya.\"\n\n\"Is that her name? I confess, I cannot remember the names of all your whores. Who was the one you married as a boy?\"\n\n\"Tysha.\" He spat out the answer, defiant.\n\n\"And that camp follower on the Green Fork?\"\n\n\"Why do you care?\" he asked, unwilling even to speak Shae's name in his presence.\n\n\"I don't. No more than I care if they live or die.\"\n\n\"It was you who had Yaya whipped.\" It was not a question.\n\n\"Your sister told me of your threats against my grandsons.\" Lord Tywin's voice was colder than ice. \"Did she lie?\"\n\nTyrion would not deny it. \"I made threats, yes. To keep Alayaya safe. So the Kettleblacks would not misuse her.\"\n\n\"To save a whore's virtue, you threatened your own House, your own kin? Is that the way of it?\"\n\n\"You were the one who taught me that a good threat is often more telling than a blow. Not that Joffrey hasn't tempted me sore a few hundred times. If you're so anxious to whip people, start with him. But Tommen... why would I harm Tommen? He's a good lad, and mine own blood.\"\n\n\"As was your mother.\" Lord Tywin rose abruptly, to tower over his dwarf son. \"Go back to your bed, Tyrion, and speak tome no more of your rights to Casterly Rock. You shall have your reward, but it shall be one I deem appropriate to your service and station. And make no mistake-this was the last time I will suffer you to bring shame onto House Lannister. You are done with whores. The next one I find in your bed, I'll hang.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "DAVOS\n\nHe watched the sail grow fora longtime, trying to decide whether he would sooner live or die.\n\nDying would be easier, he knew. All he had to do was crawl inside his cave and let the ship pass by, and death would find him. For days now the fever had been burning through him, turning his bowels to brown water and making him shiver in his restless sleep. Each morning found him weaker. It will not be much longer, he had taken to telling himself.\n\nIf the fever did not kill him, thirst surely would. He had no freshwater here, but for the occasional rainfall that pooled in hollows on the rock. Only three days past (or had it been four? On his rock, it was hard to tell the days apart) his pools had been dry as old bone, and the sight of the bay rippling green and grey all around him had been almost more than he could bear. Once he began to drink seawater the end would come swiftly, he knew, but all the same he had almost taken that first swallow, so parched was his throat. A sudden squall had saved him. He had grown so feeble by then that it was all he could do to lie in the rain with his eyes closed and his mouth open, and let the water splashdown on his cracked lips and swollen tongue. But afterward he felt a little stronger, and the island's pools and cracks and crevices once more had brimmed with life.\n\nBut that had been three days ago (or maybe four), and most of the water was gone now. Some had evaporated, and he had sucked up the rest. By the morrow he would be tasting the mud again, and licking the damp cold stones at the bottom of the depressions.\n\nAnd if not thirst or fever, starvation would kill him. His island was no more than a barren spire jutting up out of the immensity of Blackwater Bay. When the tide was low, he could sometimes find tiny crabs along the stony strand where he had washed ashore after the battle. They nipped his fingers painfully before he smashed them apart on the rocks to suck the meat from their claws and the guts from their shells."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But the strand vanished whenever the tide came rushing in, and Davos had to scramble up the rock to keep from being swept out into the bay once more."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The point of the spire was fifteen feet above the water at high tide, but when the bay grew rough the spray went even higher, so there was noway to keep dry, even in his cave (which was really no more than a hollow in the rock beneath an overhang). Nothing grew on the rock but lichen, and even the seabirds shunned the place. Now and again some gulls would land atop the spire and Davos would try to catch one, but they were too quick for him to get close. He took to flinging stones at them, but he was too weak to throw with much force, so even when his stones hit, the gulls would only scream at him in annoyance and then take to the air.\n\nThere were other rocks visible from his refuge, distant stony spires taller than his own. The nearest stood a good forty feet above the water, he guessed, though it was hard to be sure at this distance. A cloud of gulls swirled about it constantly, and often Davos thought of crossing over to raid their nests. But the water was cold here, the currents strong and treacherous, and he knew he did not have the strength for such a swim. That would kill him assure as drinking seawater.\n\nAutumn in the narrow sea could often be wet and rainy, he remembered from years past. The days were not bad so long as the sun was shining, but the nights were growing colder and sometimes the wind would come gusting across the bay, driving a line of whitecaps before it, and before long Davos would be soaked and shivering. Fever and chills assaulted him in turn, and of late he had developed a persistent racking cough.\n\nHis cave was all the shelter he had, and that was little enough. Driftwood and bits of charred debris would wash upon the strand during low tide, but he had noway to strike a spark or start afire. Once, in desperation, he had tried rubbing two pieces of driftwood against each other, but the wood was rotted, and his efforts earned him only blisters. His clothes were sodden as well, and he had lost one of his boots somewhere in the bay before he washed up here."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Thirst; hunger; exposure. They were his companions, with him every hour of everyday, and in time he had come to think of them as his friends. Soon enough, one or the other of his friends would take pity on him and free him from this endless misery. Or perhaps he would simply walk into the water one day, and strikeout for the shore that he knew lay somewhere to the north, beyond his sight. It was too far to swim, as weak as he was, but that did not matter. Davos had always been a sailor; he was meant to die at sea. The gods beneath the waters have been waiting for me, he told himself. It's past time I went to them.\n\nBut now there was a sail; only a speck on the horizon, but growing larger. A ship where no ship should be. He knew where his rock lay, more or less; it was one of a series of sea monts that rose from the floor of Blackwater Bay. The tallest of them jutted a hundred feet above the tide, and a dozen lesser monts stood thirty to sixty feet high. Sailors called them spears of the merling king, and knew that for everyone that broke the surface, a dozen lurked treacherously just below it. Any captain with sense kept his course well away from them.\n\nDavos watched the sail swell through pale red-rimmed eyes, and tried to hear the sound of the wind caught in the canvas. She is coming this way. Unless she changed course soon, she would pass within hailing distance of his meager refuge. It might mean life. If he wanted it. He was not sure he did.\n\nWhy should I live? he thought as tears blurred his vision. Gods be good, why? My sons are dead, Dale and Allard, Maric and Matthos, perhaps Devan as well. How can a father outlive so many strong young sons? How would I goon? I am a hollow shell, the crab's died, there's nothing left inside. Don't they know that?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had sailed up the Blackwater Rush flying the fiery heart of the Lord of Light. Davos and Black Betha had been in the second line of battle, between Dale's Wraith and Allard on Lady Marya. Maric his third-born was oarmaster on Fury, at the center of the first line, while Matthos served as his father's second. Beneath the walls of the Red Keep Stannis Baratheon's galleys had joined in battle with the boy king Joffrey's smaller fleet, and fora few moments the river had rung to the thrum of bowstrings and the crash of iron rams shattering oars and hulls alike.\n\nAnd then some vast beast had let out a roar, and green flames were all around them: wildfire, pyromancer's piss, the jade demon. Matthos had been standing at his elbow on the deck of Black Betha when the ship seemed to lift from the water. Davos found himself in the river, flailing as the current took him and spun him around and around. Upstream, the flames had ripped at the sky, fifty feet high. He had seen Black Betha afire, and Fury, and a dozen other ships, had seen burning men leaping into the water to drown. Wraith and Lady Marya were gone, sunk or shattered or vanished behind a veil of wildfire, and there was no time to look for them, because the mouth of the river was almost upon him, and across the mouth of the river the Lannisters had raised a great iron chain. From bank to bank there was nothing but burning ships and wildfire. The sight of it seemed to stop his heart fora moment, and he could still remember the sound of it, the crackle of flames, the hiss of steam, the shrieks of dying men, and the beat of that terrible heat against his face as the current swept him down toward hell."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "All he needed to do was nothing. A few moments more, and he would be with his sons now, resting in the cool green mud on the bottom of the bay, with fish nibbling at his face.\n\nInstead he sucked in a great gulp of air and dove, kicking for the bottom of the river. His only hope was to pass under the chain and the burning ships and the wildfire that floated on the surface of the water, to swim hard for the safety of the bay beyond. Davos had always been a strong swimmer, and he'd worn no steel that day, but for the helm he'd lost when he'd lost Black Betha. Ashe knifed through the green murk, he saw other men struggling beneath the water, pulled down to drown beneath the weight of plate and mail. Davos swam past them, kicking with all the strength left in his legs, giving himself up to the current, the water filling his eyes. Deeper he went, and deeper, and deeper still. With every stroke it grew harder to hold his breath. He remembered seeing the bottom, soft and dim, as a stream of bubbles burst from his lips. Something touched his leg... a snag or a fish or a drowning man, he could not tell.\n\nHe needed air by then, but he was afraid. Was he past the chain yet, was he out in the bay? If he came up under a ship he would drown, and if he surfaced amidst the floating patches of wildfire his first breath would sear his lungs to ash. He twisted in the water to lookup, but there was nothing to see but green darkness and then he spun too far and suddenly he could no longer tell up from down. Panic took hold of him. His hands flailed against the bottom of the river and sent up a cloud of mud that blinded him. His chest was growing tighter by the instant. He clawed at the water, kicking, pushing himself, turning, his lungs screaming for air, kicking, kicking, lost now in the river murk, kicking, kicking, kicking until he could kick no longer. When he opened his mouth to scream, the water came rushing in, tasting of salt, and Davos Seaworth knew that he was drowning."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The next he knew the sun was up, and he lay upon a stony strand beneath aspire of naked stone, with the empty bay all around and a broken mast, a burned sail, and a swollen corpse beside him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The mast, the sail, and the dead man vanished with the next high tide, leaving Davos alone on his rock amidst the spears of the merling king.\n\nHis long years as a smuggler had made the waters around King's Landing more familiar to him than any home he'd ever had, and he knew his refuge was no more than a speck on the charts, in a place that honest sailors steered away from, not toward... though Davos himself had come by it once or twice in his smuggling days, the better to stay unseen. When they find me dead here, if ever they do, perhaps they will name the rock for me, he thought. Onion Rock, they'll call it; it will be my tombstone and my legacy. He deserved no more. The Father protects his children, the septons taught, but Davos had led his boys into the fire. Dale would never give his wife the child they had prayed for, and Allard, with his girl in Oldtown and his girl in King's Landing and his girl in Braavos, they would all be weeping soon. Matthos would never captain his own ship, as he'd dreamed. Maric would never have his knighthood.\n\nHow can I live when they are dead? So many brave knights and mighty lords have died, better men than me, and highborn. Crawl inside your cave, Davos. Crawl inside and shrink up small and the ship will go away, and no one will trouble you ever again. Sleep on your stone pillow, and let the gulls peck out your eyes while the crabs feast on your flesh. You've feasted on enough of them, you owe them. Hide, smuggler. Hide, and be quiet, and die.\n\nThe sail was almost on him. A few moments more, and the ship would be safely past, and he could die in peace."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His hand reached for his throat, fumbling for the small leather pouch he always wore about his neck."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Inside he kept the bones of the four fingers his king had shortened for him, on the day he made Davos a knight. My luck. His shortened fingers patted at his chest, groping, finding nothing. The pouch was gone, and the fingerbones with them. Stannis could never understand why he'd kept the bones. \"To remind me of my king's justice,\" he whispered through cracked lips. But now they were gone. The fire took my luck as well as my sons. In his dreams the river was still aflame and demons danced upon the waters with fiery whips in their hands, while men blackened and burned beneath the lash. \"Mother, have mercy,\" Davos prayed. \"Save me, gentle Mother, save us all. My luck is gone, and my sons.\" He was weeping freely now, salt tears streaming down his cheeks. \"The fire took it all... the fire...\"\n\nPerhaps it was only wind blowing against the rock, or the sound of the sea on the shore, but for an instant Davos Seaworth heard her answer. \"You called the fire,\" she whispered, her voice as faint as the sound of waves in a seashell, sad and soft. \"You burned us... burned us... burrrrned usssssss.\"\n\n\"It washer!\" Davos cried. \"Mother, don't forsake us. It washer who burned you, the red woman, Melisandre, her!\" He could see her; the heart-shaped face, the red eyes, the long coppery hair, her red gowns moving like flames as she walked, a swirl of silk and satin. She had come from Asshai in the east, she had come to Dragonstone and won Selsye and her queen's men for her alien god, and then the king, Stannis Baratheon himself. He had gone so far as to put the fiery heart on his banners, the fiery heart of R'hllor, Lord of Light and God of Flame and Shadow. At Melisandre's urging, he had dragged the Seven from their sept at Dragonstone and burned them before the castle gates, and later he had burned the godswood at Storm's End as well, even the heart tree, a huge white weirwood with a solemn face."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It washer work,\" Davos said again, more weakly. Her work, and yours, onion knight. You rowed her into Storm's End in the black of night, so she might loose her shadow child. You are not guiltless, no. You rode beneath her banner and flew it from your mast. You watched the Seven burn at Dragonstone, and did nothing. She gave the Father's justice to the fire, and the Mother's mercy, and the wisdom of the Crone. Smith and Stranger, Maid and Warrior, she burnt them all to the glory of her cruel god, and you stood and held your tongue. Even when she killed old Maester Cressen, even then, you did nothing.\n\nThe sail was a hundred yards away and moving fast across the bay. Ina few more moments it would be past him, and dwindling.\n\nSer Davos Seaworth began to climb his rock.\n\nHe pulled himself up with trembling hands, his head swimming with fever. Twice his maimed fingers slipped on the damp stone and he almost fell, but somehow he managed to cling to his perch. If he fell he was dead, and he had to live. Fora little while more, at least. There was something he had to do.\n\nThe top of the rock was too small to stand on safely, as weak as he was, so he crouched and waved his fleshless arms. \"Ship,\" he screamed into the wind. \"Ship, here, here!\" From up here, he could see her more clearly; the lean striped hull, the bronze figurehead, the billowing sail. There was a name painted on her hull, but Davos had never learned to read. \"Ship,\" he called again, \"help me, HELP ME!\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A crewman on her forecastle saw him and pointed. He watched as other sailors moved to the gunwale to gape at him. A short while later the galley's sail came down, her oars slid out, and she swept around toward his refuge. She was too big to approach the rock closely, but thirty yards away she launched a small boat. Davos clung to his rock and watched it creep toward him. Four men were rowing, while a fifth satin the prow. \"You,\" the fifth man called out when they were only a few feet from his island, \"you upon the rock. Who are you?\"\n\nA smuggler who rose above himself, thought Davos, a fool who loved his king too much, and forgot his gods. \"I...\" His throat was parched, and he had forgotten how to talk. The words felt strange on his tongue and sounded stranger in his ears. \"I was in the battle. I was... a captain, a... a knight, I was a knight.\"\n\n\"Aye, ser,\" the man said, \"and serving which king?\"\n\nThe galley might be Joffrey's, he realized suddenly. If he spoke the wrong name now, she would abandon him to his fate. But no, her hull was striped. She was Lysene, she was Salladhor Saan's. The Mother sent her here, the Mother in her mercy. She had a task for him. Stannis lives, he knew then. I have a king still. And sons, I have other sons, and a wife loyal and loving. How could he have forgotten? The Mother was merciful indeed.\n\n\"Stannis,\" he shouted back at the Lyseni. \"Gods be good, I serve King Stannis.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said the man in the boat, \"and so do we.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "SANSA\n\nThe invitation seemed innocent enough, but every time Sansa read it her tummy tightened into a knot. She's to be queen now, she's beautiful and rich and everyone loves her, why would she want to sup with a traitor's daughter? It could be curiosity, she supposed; perhaps Margaery Tyrell wanted to get the measure of the rival she'd displaced. Does she resent me, I wonder? Does she think I bear her ill will...\n\nSansa had watched from the castle walls as Margaery Tyrell and her escort made their way up Aegon's High Hill. Joffrey had met his new bride-to-beat the King's Gate to welcome her to the city, and they rode side by side through cheering crowds, Joff glittering in gilded armor and the Tyrell girl splendid in green with a cloak of autumn flowers blowing from her shoulders. She was sixteen, brown-haired and brown-eyed, slender and beautiful. The people called out her name as she passed, held up their children for her blessing, and scattered flowers under the hooves of her horse. Her mother and grandmother followed close behind, riding in a tall wheelhouse whose sides were carved into the shape of a hundred twining roses, everyone gilded and shining. The smallfolk cheered them as well.\n\nThe same smallfolk who pulled me from my horse and would have killed me, if not for the Hound. Sansa had done nothing to make the commons hate her, no more than Margaery Tyrell had done to win their love. Does she want me to love her too? She studied the invitation, which looked to be written in Margaery's own hand. Does she want my blessing? Sansa wondered if Joffrey knew of this supper. For all she knew, it might be his doing. That thought made her fearful. If Joff was behind the invitation, he would have some cruel jape planned to shame her in the older girl's eyes. Would he command his Kingsguard to strip her naked once again? The last time he had done that his uncle Tyrion had stopped him, but the Imp could not save her now."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "No one can save me but my Florian. Ser Dontos had promised he would help her escape, but not until the night of Joffrey's wedding. The plans had been well laid, her dear devoted knight-turned-fool assured her; there was nothing to do until then but endure, and count the days.\n\nAnd sup with my replacement...\n\nPerhaps she was doing Margaery Tyrell an injustice. Perhaps the invitation was no more than a simple kindness, an act of courtesy. It might be just a supper. But this was the Red Keep, this was King's Landing, this was the court of King Joffrey Baratheon, the First of His Name, and if there was one thing that Sansa Stark had learned here, it was mistrust.\n\nEven so, she must accept. She was nothing now, the discarded daughter of a traitor and disgraced sister of a rebel lord. She could scarcely refuse Joffrey's queen-to-be.\n\nI wish the Hound were here. The night of the battle, Sandor Clegane had come to her chambers to take her from the city, but Sansa had refused. Sometimes she lay awake at night, wondering if she'd been wise. She had his stained white cloak hidden in a cedar chest beneath her summer silks. She could not say why she'd kept it. The Hound had turned craven, she heard it said; at the height of the battle, he got so drunk the Imp had to take his men. But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. It was only the fire he feared. That night, the wildfire had set the river itself ablaze, and filled the very air with green flame. Even in the castle, Sansa had been afraid. Outside... she could scarcely imagine it."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sighing, she got out quill and ink, and wrote Margaery Tyrell a gracious note of acceptance.\n\nWhen the appointed night arrived, another of the Kingsguard came for her, a man as different from Sandor Clegane as... well, as a flower from a dog. The sight of Ser Loras Tyrell standing on her threshold made Sansa's heartbeat a little faster. This was the first time she had been so close to him since he had returned to King's Landing, leading the vanguard of his father's host. Fora moment she did not know what to say. \"Ser Loras,\" she finally managed, \"you... you look so lovely.\"\n\nHe gave her a puzzled smile. \"My lady is too kind. And beautiful besides. My sister awaits you eagerly.\"\n\n\"I have so looked forward to our supper.\"\n\n\"As has Margaery, and my lady grandmother as well.\" He took her arm and led her toward the steps.\n\n\"Your grandmother?\" Sansa was finding it hard to walk and talk and think all at the same time, with Ser Loras touching her arm. She could feel the warmth of his hand through the silk.\n\n\"Lady Olenna. She is to sup with you as well.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Sansa. I am talking to him, and he's touching me, he's holding my arm and touching me. \"The Queen of Thorns, she's called. Isn't that right?\"\n\n\"It is.\" Ser Loras laughed. He has the warmest laugh, she thought as he went on, \"You'd best not use that name in her presence, though, or you're like to get pricked.\"\n\nSansa reddened. Any fool would have realized that no woman would be happy about being called'the Queen of Thorns.\" Maybe I truly am as stupid as Cersei Lannister says. Desperately she tried to think of something clever and charming to say to him, but her wits had deserted her. She almost told him how beautiful he was, until she remembered that she'd already done that."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He was beautiful, though."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He seemed taller than he'd been when she'd first met him, but still so lithe and graceful, and Sansa had never seen another boy with such wonderful eyes. He's no boy, though, he's a man grown, a knight of the Kingsguard. She thought he looked even finer in white than in the greens and golds of House Tyrell. The only spot of color on him now was the brooch that clasped his cloak; the rose of Highgarden wrought in soft yellow gold, nestled in abed of delicate green jade leaves.\n\nSer Balon Swann held the door of Maegor's for them to pass. He was all in white as well, though he did not wear it half so well as Ser Loras. Beyond the spiked moat, two dozen men were taking their practice with sword and shield. With the castle so crowded, the outer ward had been given over to guests to raise their tents and pavilions, leaving only the smaller inner yards for training. One of the Redwyne twins was being driven backward by Ser Tallad, with the eyes on his shield. Chunky Ser Kennos of Kayce, who chuffed and puffed every time he raised his longsword, seemed to beholding his own against Osney Kettleblack, but Osney's brother Ser Osfryd was savagely punishing the frog-faced squire Morros Slynt. Blunted swords or no, Slynt would have a rich crop of bruises by the morrow. It made Sansa wince just to watch. They have scarcely finished burying the dead from the last battle, and already they are practicing for the next one.\n\nOn the edge of the yard, alone knight with a pair of golden roses on his shield was holding off three foes. Even as they watched, he caught one of them alongside the head, knocking him senseless. \"Is that your brother?\" Sansa asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It is, my lady,\" said Ser Loras."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Garlan often trains against three men, or even four. In battle it is seldom one against one, he says, so he likes to be prepared.\"\n\n\"He must be very brave.\"\n\n\"He is a great knight,\" Ser Loras replied. \"A better sword than me, in truth, though I'm the better lance.\"\n\n\"I remember,\" said Sansa. \"You ride wonderfully, ser.\"\n\n\"My lady is gracious to say so. When has she seen me ride?\"\n\n\"At the Hand's tourney, don't you remember? You rode a white courser, and your armor was a hundred different kinds of flowers. You gave me arose. A red rose. You threw white roses to the other girls that day.\" It made her flush to speak of it. \"You said no victory was half as beautiful as me.\"\n\nSer Loras gave her a modest smile. \"I spoke only a simple truth, that any man with eyes could see.\"\n\nHe doesn't remember, Sansa realized, startled. He is only being kind tome, he doesn't remember me or the rose or any of it. She had been so certain that it meant something, that it meant everything. A red rose, not a white. \"It was after you unhorsed Ser Robar Royce,\" she said, desperately.\n\nHe took his hand from her arm. \"I slew Robar at Storm's End, my lady.\" It was not a boast; he sounded sad.\n\nHim, and another of King Renly's Rainbow Guard as well, yes. Sansa had heard the women talking of it round the well, but fora moment she'd forgotten. \"That was when Lord Renly was killed, wasn't it? How terrible for your poor sister.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"For Margaery?\" His voice was tight. \"To be sure. She was at Bitterbridge, though. She did not see.\"\n\n\"Even so, when she heard...\"\n\nSer Loras brushed the hilt of his sword lightly with his hand. Its grip was white leather, its pommel arose in alabaster. \"Renly is dead. Robar as well. What use to speak of them?\"\n\nThe sharpness in his tone took her aback. \"I... my lord, I... I did not mean to give offense, ser.\"\n\n\"Nor could you, Lady Sansa,\" Ser Loras replied, but all the warmth had gone from his voice. Nor did he take her arm again.\n\nThey ascended the serpentine steps in a deepening silence.\n\nOh, why did I have to mention Ser Robar? Sansa thought. I've ruined everything. He is angry with me now. She tried to think of something she might say to make amends, but all the words that came to her were lame and weak. Be quiet, or you will only make it worse, she told herself.\n\nLord Mace Tyrell and his entourage had been housed behind the royal sept, in the long slate-roofed keep that had been called the Maidenvault since King Baelor the Blessed had confined his sisters therein, so the sight of them might not tempt him into carnal thoughts. Outside its tall carved doors stood two guards in gilded halfhelms and green cloaks edged in gold satin, the golden rose of Highgarden sewn on their breasts. Both were seven-footers, wide of shoulder and narrow of waist, magnificently muscled. When Sansa got close enough to see their faces, she could not tell one from the other. They had the same strong jaws, the same deep blue eyes, the same thick red mustaches. \"Who are they?\" she asked Ser Loras, her discomfit forgotten fora moment."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My grandmother's personal guard,\" he told her. \"Their mother named them Erryk and Arryk, but Grandmother can't tell them apart, so she calls them Left and Right.\"\n\nLeft and Right opened the doors, and Margaery Tyrell herself emerged and swept down the short flight of steps to greet them. \"Lady Sansa,\" she called, \"I'm so pleased you came. Be welcome.\"\n\nSansa knelt at the feet of her future queen. \"You dome great honor, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Won't you call me Margaery? Please, rise. Loras, help the Lady Sansa to her feet. Might I call you Sansa?\"\n\n\"If it please you.\" Ser Loras helped her up.\n\nMargaery dismissed him with a sisterly kiss, and took Sansa by the hand. \"Come, my grandmother awaits, and she is not the most patient of ladies.\"\n\nAfire was crackling in the hearth, and sweet-swelling rushes had been scattered on the floor. Around the long trestle table a dozen women were seated.\n\nSansa recognized only Lord Tyrell's tall, dignified wife, Lady Alerie, whose long silvery braid was bound with jeweled rings. Margaery performed the other introductions. There were three Tyrell cousins, Megga and Alla and Elinor, all close to Sansa's age. Buxom Lady Janna was Lord Tyrell's sister, and wed to one of the green-apple Fossoways; dainty, bright-eyed Lady Leonette was a Fossoway as well, and wed to Ser Garlan. Septa Nysterica had a homely pox-scarred face but seemed jolly. Pale, elegant Lady Graceford was with child, and Lady Bulwer was a child, no more than eight. And'Merry\" was what she was to call boisterous plump Meredyth Crane, but most definitely not Lady Merryweather, a sultry black-eyed Myrish beauty."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Last of all, Margaery brought her before the wizened white-haired doll of a woman at the head of the table. \"I am honored to present my grandmother the Lady Olenna, widow to the late Luthor Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, whose memory is a comfort to us all.\"\n\nThe old woman smelled of rosewater. Why, she's just the littlest bit of a thing. There was nothing the least bit thorny about her. \"Kiss me, child,\" Lady Olenna said, tugging at Sansa's wrist with a soft spotted hand. \"It is so kind of you to sup with me and my foolish flock of hens.\"\n\nDutifully, Sansa kissed the old woman on the cheek. \"It is kind of you to have me, my lady.\"\n\n\"I knew your grandfather, Lord Rickard, though not well.\"\n\n\"He died before I was born.\"\n\n\"I am aware of that, child. It's said that your Tully grandfather is dying too. Lord Hoster, surely they told you? An old man, though not so old as me. Still, night falls for all of us in the end, and too soon for some. You would know that more than most, poor child. You've had your share of grief, I know. We are sorry for your losses.\"\n\nSansa glanced at Margaery. \"I was saddened when I heard of Lord Renly's death, Your Grace. He was very gallant.\"\n\n\"You are kind to say so,\" answered Margaery.\n\nHer grandmother snorted. \"Gallant, yes, and charming, and very clean. He knew how to dress and he knew how to smile and he knew how to bathe, and somehow he got the notion that this made him fit to be king. The Baratheons have always had some queer notions, to be sure. It comes from their Targaryen blood, I should think.\" She sniffed. \"They tried to marry me to a Targaryen once, but I soon put an end to that.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Renly was brave and gentle, Grandmother,\" said Margaery. \"Father liked him as well, and so did Loras.\"\n\n\"Loras is young,\" Lady Olenna said crisply, \"and very good at knocking men off horses with a stick. That does not make him wise. As to your father, would that I'd been born a peasant woman with a big wooden spoon, I might have been able to beat some sense into his fathead.\"\n\n\"Mother,\" Lady Alerie scolded.\n\n\"Hush, Alerie, don't take that tone with me. And don't call me Mother. If I'd given birth to you, I'm sure I'd remember. I'm only to blame for your husband, the lord oaf of Highgarden.\"\n\n\"Grandmother,\" Margaery said, \"mind your words, or what will Sansa think of us?\"\n\n\"She might think we have some wits about us. One of us, at any rate.\" The old woman turned back to Sansa. \"It's treason, I warned them, Robert has two sons, and Renly has an older brother, how can he possibly have any claim to that ugly iron chair? Tut-tut, says my son, don't you want your sweetling to be queen? You Starks were kings once, the Arryns and the Lannisters as well, and even the Baratheons through the female line, but the Tyrells were no more than stewards until Aegon the Dragon came along and cooked the rightful King of the Reach on the Field of Fire. If truth be told, even our claim to Highgarden is a bit dodgy, just as those dreadful Florents are always whining. \"What does it matter?\" you ask, and of course it doesn't, except to oafs like my son. The thought that one day he may see his grandson with his arse on the Iron Throne makes Mace puff up like... now, what do you call it? Margaery, you're clever, be a dear and tell your poor old half-daft grandmother the name of that queer fish from the Summer Isles that puffs up to ten times its own size when you poke it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They call them puff fish, Grandmother.\"\n\n\"Of course they do. Summer Islanders have no imagination. My son ought to take the puff fish for his sigil, if truth be told. He could put a crown on it, the way the Baratheons do their stag, mayhap that would make him happy. We should have stayed well out of all this bloody foolishness if you ask me, but once the cow's been milked there's no squirting the cream backup her udder. After Lord Puff Fish put that crown on Renly's head, we were into the pudding up to our knees, so here we are to see things through. And what do you say to that, Sansa?\"\n\nSansa's mouth opened and closed. She felt very like a puff fish herself. \"The Tyrells can trace their descent back to Garth Greenhand,\" was the best she could manage at short notice.\n\nThe Queen of Thorns snorted. \"So can the Florents, the Rowans, the Oakhearts, and half the other noble houses of the south. Garth liked to plant his seed infertile ground, they say. I shouldn't wonder that more than his hands were green.\"\n\n\"Sansa,\" Lady Alerie broke in, \"you must be very hungry. Shall we have a bite of boar together, and some lemon cakes?\"\n\n\"Lemon cakes are my favorite,\" Sansa admitted.\n\n\"So we have been told,\" declared Lady Olenna, who obviously had no intention of being hushed. \"That Varys creature seemed to think we should be grateful for the information. I've never been quite sure what the point of a eunuch is, if truth be told. It seems tome they're only men with the useful bits cutoff. Alerie, will you have them bring the food, or do you mean to starve me to death? Here, Sansa, sit here next tome, I'm much less boring than these others. I hope that you're fond of fools.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sansa smoothed down her skirts and sat. \"I think... fools, my lady? You mean... the sort in motley?\"\n\n\"Feathers, in this case. What did you imagine I was speaking of? My son? Or these lovely ladies? No, don't blush, with your hair it makes you look like a pomegranate. All men are fools, if truth be told, but the ones in motley are more amusing than ones with crowns. Margaery, child, summon Butterbumps, let us see if we can't make Lady Sansa smile. The rest of you be seated, do I have to tell you everything? Sansa must think that my granddaughter is attended by a flock of sheep.\"\n\nButterbumps arrived before the food, dressed in a jester's suit of green and yellow feathers with a floppy coxcomb. An immense round fat man, as big as three Moon Boys, he came cartwheeling into the hall, vaulted onto the table, and laid a gigantic egg right in front of Sansa. \"Break it, my lady,\" he commanded. When she did, a dozen yellow chicks escaped and began running in all directions. \"Catch them!\" Butterbumps exclaimed. Little Lady Bulwer snagged one and handed it to him, whereby he tilted back his head, popped it into his huge rubbery mouth, and seemed to swallow it whole. When he belched, tiny yellow feathers flew out his nose. Lady Bulwer began to wail in distress, but her tears turned into a sudden squeal of delight when the chick came squirming out of the sleeve of her gown and ran down her arm.\n\nAs the servants brought out a broth of leeks and mushrooms, Butterbumps began to juggle and Lady Olenna pushed herself forward to rest her elbows on the table. \"Do you know my son, Sansa? Lord Puff Fish of Highgarden?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A great lord,\" Sansa answered politely.\n\n\"A great oaf,\" said the Queen of Thorns. \" His father was an oaf as well. My husband, the late Lord Luthor. Oh, I loved him well enough, don't mistake me. A kind man, and not unskilled in the bedchamber, but an appalling oaf all the same. He managed to ride off a cliff whilst hawking. They say he was looking up at the sky and paying no mind to where his horse was taking him.\n\n\"And now my oaf son is doing the same, only he's riding a lion instead of a palfrey. It is easy to mount a lion and not so easy to get off, I warned him, but he only chuckles. Should you ever have a son, Sansa, beat him frequently so he learns to mind you. I only had the one boy and I hardly beat him at all, so now he pays more heed to Butterbumps than he does tome. A lion is not a lap cat, I told him, and he gives me a'tut-tut-Mother. ' There is entirely too much tut-tutting in this realm, if you ask me. All these kings would do a deal better if they would put down their swords and listen to their mothers.\"\n\nSansa realized that her mouth was open again. She filled it with a spoon of broth while Lady Alerie and the other women were giggling at the spectacle of Butterbumps bouncing oranges off his head, his elbows, and his ample rump.\n\n\"I want you to tell me the truth about this royal boy,\" said Lady Olenna abruptly. \"This Joffrey.\"\n\nSansa's fingers tightened round her spoon. The truth? I can't. Don't ask it, please, I can't. \"I... I... I...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You, yes. Who would know better? The lad seems kingly enough, I'll grant you. A bit full of himself, but that would be his Lannister blood. We have heard some troubling tales, however. Is there any truth to them? Has this boy mistreated you?\"\n\nSansa glanced about nervously. Butterbumps popped a whole orange into his mouth, chewed and swallowed, slapped his cheek, and blew seeds out of his nose. The women giggled and laughed. Servants were coming and going, and the Maidenvault echoed to the clatter of spoons and plates. One of the chicks hopped back onto the table and ran through Lady Graceford's broth. No one seemed to be paying them any mind, but even so, she was frightened.\n\nLady Olenna was growing impatient. \"Why are you gaping at Butterbumps? I asked a question, I expect an answer. Have the Lannisters stolen your tongue, child?\"\n\nSer Dontos had warned her to speak freely only in the godswood. \"Joff... King Joffrey, he's... His Grace is very fair and handsome, and... and as brave as a lion.\"\n\n\"Yes, all the Lannisters are lions, and when a Tyrell breaks wind it smells just like arose,\" the old woman snapped. \"But how kind is he? How clever? Has he a good heart, a gentle hand? Is he chivalrous as befits a king? Will he cherish Margaery and treat her tenderly, protect her honor as he would his own?\"\n\n\"He will,\" Sansa lied. \"He is very... very comely.\"\n\n\"You said that. You know, child, some say that you areas big a fool as Butterbumps here, and I am starting to believe them. Comely? I have taught my Margaery what comely is worth, I hope. Somewhat less than a mummer's fart. Aerion Brightfire was comely enough, but a monster all the same. The question is, what is Joffrey?\" She reached to snag a passing servant. \"I am not fond of leeks. Take this broth away, and bring me some cheese.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The cheese will be served after the cakes, my lady.\"\n\n\"The cheese will be served when I want it served, and I want it served now.\" The old woman turned back to Sansa. \"Are you frightened, child? No need for that, we're only women here. Tell me the truth, no harm will come to you.\"\n\n\"My father always told the truth.\" Sansa spoke quietly, but even so, it was hard to get the words out.\n\n\"Lord Eddard, yes, he had that reputation, but they named him traitor and took his head off even so.\" The old woman's eyes bore into her, sharp and bright as the points of swords.\n\n\"Joffrey,\" Sansa said. \"Joffrey did that. He promised me he would be merciful, and cut my father's head off. He said that was mercy, and he took me upon the walls and made me look at it. The head. He wanted me to weep, but...\" She stopped abruptly, and covered her mouth. I've said too much, oh gods be good, they'll know, they'll hear, someone will tell on me.\n\n\"Goon.\" It was Margaery who urged. Joffrey's own queen-to-be. Sansa did not know how much she had heard.\n\n\"I can't.\" What if she tells him, what if she tells? He'll kill me for certain then, or give me to Ser Ilyn. \"I never meant... my father was a traitor, my brother as well, I have the traitor's blood, please, don't make me say more.\"\n\n\"Calm yourself, child,\" the Queen of Thorns commanded.\n\n\"She's terrified, Grandmother, just look at her.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The old woman called to Butterbumps. \"Fool! Give us a song. Along one, I should think. \"The Bear and the Maiden Fair\" will do nicely.\"\n\n\"It will!\" the huge jester replied. \"It will do nicely indeed! Shall I sing it standing on my head, my lady?\"\n\n\"Will that make it sound better?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Stand on your feet, then. We wouldn't want your hat to falloff. As I recall, you never wash your hair.\"\n\n\"As my lady commands.\" Butterbumps bowed low, let loose of an enormous belch, then straightened, threw out his belly, and bellowed. \"A bear there was, a bear, a BEAR! All black and brown, and covered with hair...\"\n\nLady Olenna squirmed forward. \"Even when I was a girl younger than you, it was well known that in the Red Keep the very walls have ears. Well, they will be the better fora song, and meanwhile we girls shall speak freely.\"\n\n\"But,\" Sansa said, \"Varys... he knows, he always...\"\n\n\"Sing louder!\" the Queen of Thorns shouted at Butterbumps. \"These old ears are almost deaf, you know. Are you whispering at me, you fat fool? I don't pay you for whispers. Sing!\"\n\n\"... THE BEAR!\" thundered Butterbumps, his great deep voice echoing off the rafters. \"OH, COME, THEY SAID, OH COME TO THE FAIR! THE FAIR? SAID HE, BUT I'M A BEAR! ALL BLACK AND BROWN, AND COVERED WITH HAIR!\"\n\nThe wrinkled old lady smiled. \"At Highgarden we have many spiders amongst the flowers. So long as they keep to themselves we let them spin their little webs, but if they get underfoot we step on them.\" She patted Sansa on the back of the hand. \"Now, child, the truth. What sort of man is this Joffrey, who calls himself Baratheon but looks so very Lannister?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"AND DOWN THE ROAD FROM HERETO THERE. FROM HERE! TO THERE! THREE BOYS, A GOAT, AND A DANCING BEAR!\"\n\nSansa felt as though her heart had lodged in her throat. The Queen of Thorns was so close she could smell the old woman's sour breath. Her gaunt thin fingers were pinching her wrist. To her other side, Margaery was listening as well. A shiver went through her. \"A monster,\" she whispered, so tremulously she could scarcely hear her own voice. \"Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher's boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He's evil and cruel, my lady, it's so. And the queen as well.\"\n\nLady Olenna Tyrell and her granddaughter exchanged a look. \"Ah,\" said the old woman, \"that's a pity.\"\n\nOh, gods, thought Sansa, horrified. If Margaery won't marry him, Joff will know that I'm to blame. \"Please,\" she blurted, \"don't stop the wedding...\"\n\n\"Have no fear, Lord Puff Fish is determined that Margaery shall be queen. And the word of a Tyrell is worth more than all the gold in Casterly Rock. At least it was in my day. Even so, we thank you for the truth, child.\"\n\n\"... DANCED AND SPUN, ALL THE WAY TO THE FAIR! THE FAIR! THE FAIR!\" Butterbumps hopped and roared and stomped his feet.\n\n\"Sansa, would you like to visit Highgarden?\" When Margaery Tyrell smiled, she looked very like her brother Loras. \"All the autumn flowers are in bloom just now, and there are groves and fountains, shady courtyards, marble colonnades. My lord father always keeps singers at court, sweeter ones than Butters here, and pipers and fiddlers and harpers as well. We have the best horses, and pleasure boats to sail along the Mander. Do you hawk, Sansa?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A little,\" she admitted.\n\n\"OH, SWEET SHE WAS, AND PURE, AND FAIR! THE MAID WITH HONEY IN HER HAIR!\"\n\n\"You will love Highgarden as I do, I know it.\" Margaery brushed back a loose strand of Sansa's hair. \"Once you see it, you'll never want to leave. And perhaps you won't have to.\"\n\n\"HER HAIR! HER HAIR! THE MAID WITH HONEY IN HER HAIR!\"\n\n\"Shush, child,\" the Queen of Thorns said sharply. \"Sansa hasn't even told us that she would like to come fora visit.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I would,\" Sansa said. Highgarden sounded like the place she had always dreamed of, like the beautiful magical court she had once hoped to find at King's Landing.\n\n\"... SMELLED THE SCENT ON THE SUMMER AIR. THE BEAR! THE BEAR! ALL BLACK AND BROWN AND COVERED WITH HAIR.\"\n\n\"But the queen,\" Sansa went on, \"she won't let me go...\"\n\n\"She will. Without Highgarden, the Lannisters have no hope of keeping Joffrey on his throne. If my son the lord oaf asks, she will have no choice but to grant his request.\"\n\n\"Will he?\" asked Sansa. \"Will he ask?\"\n\nLady Olenna frowned. \"I see no need to give him a choice. Of course, he has no hint of our true purpose.\"\n\n\"HE SMELLED THE SCENT ON THE SUMMER AIR!\"\n\nSansa wrinkled her brow. \"Our true purpose, my lady?\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Serve as the author's scribe, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 8"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A little,\" she admitted.\n\n\"OH, SWEET SHE WAS, AND PURE, AND FAIR! THE MAID WITH HONEY IN HER HAIR!\"\n\n\"You will love Highgarden as I do, I know it.\" Margaery brushed back a loose strand of Sansa's hair. \"Once you see it, you'll never want to leave. And perhaps you won't have to.\"\n\n\"HER HAIR! HER HAIR! THE MAID WITH HONEY IN HER HAIR!\"\n\n\"Shush, child,\" the Queen of Thorns said sharply. \"Sansa hasn't even told us that she would like to come fora visit.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I would,\" Sansa said. Highgarden sounded like the place she had always dreamed of, like the beautiful magical court she had once hoped to find at King's Landing.\n\n\"... SMELLED THE SCENT ON THE SUMMER AIR. THE BEAR! THE BEAR! ALL BLACK AND BROWN AND COVERED WITH HAIR.\"\n\n\"But the queen,\" Sansa went on, \"she won't let me go...\"\n\n\"She will. Without Highgarden, the Lannisters have no hope of keeping Joffrey on his throne. If my son the lord oaf asks, she will have no choice but to grant his request.\"\n\n\"Will he?\" asked Sansa. \"Will he ask?\"\n\nLady Olenna frowned. \"I see no need to give him a choice. Of course, he has no hint of our true purpose.\"\n\n\"HE SMELLED THE SCENT ON THE SUMMER AIR!\"\n\nSansa wrinkled her brow. \"Our true purpose, my lady?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"HE SNIFFED AND ROARED AND SMELLED IT THERE! HONEY ON THE SUMMER AIR!\"\n\n\"To see you safely wed, child,\" the old woman said, as Butterbumps bellowed out the old, old song, \"to my grandson.\"\n\nWed to Ser Loras, oh... Sansa's breath caught in her throat. She remembered Ser Loras in his sparkling sapphire armor, tossing her arose. Ser Loras in white silk, so pure, innocent, beautiful. The dimples at the corner of his mouth when he smiled. The sweetness of his laugh, the warmth of his hand. She could only imagine what it would be like to pull up his tunic and caress the smooth skin underneath, to stand on her toes and kiss him, to run her fingers through those thick brown curls and drown in his deep brown eyes. A flush crept up her neck.\n\n\"OH, I'M A MAID, AND I'M PURE AND FAIR! I'LL NEVER DANCE WITH A HAIRY BEAR! A BEAR! A BEAR! I'LL NEVER DANCE WITH A HAIRY BEAR!\"\n\n\"Would you like that, Sansa?\" asked Margaery. \"I've never had a sister, only brothers. Oh, please say yes, please say that you will consent to marry my brother.\"\n\nThe words came tumbling out of her. \"Yes. I will. I would like that more than anything. Towed Ser Loras, to love him...\"\n\n\"Loras?\" Lady Olenna sounded annoyed. \"Don't be foolish, child. Kingsguard never wed. Didn't they teach you anything in Winterfell? We were speaking of my grandson Willas. He is a bit old for you, to be sure, but a dear boy for all that. Not the least bit oafish, and heir to Highgarden besides.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sansa felt dizzy; one instant her head was full of dreams of Loras, and the next they had all been snatched away. Willas? Willas? \"I,\" she said stupidly. Courtesy is a lady's armor. You must not offend them, be careful what you say. \"I do not know Ser Willas. I have never had the pleasure, my lady. Is he... is he as great a knight as his brothers?\"\n\n\"... LIFTED HER HIGH INTO THE AIR! THE BEAR! THE BEAR!\"\n\n\"No,\" Margaery said. \"He has never taken vows.\"\n\nHer grandmother frowned. \"Tell the girl the truth. The poor lad is crippled, and that's the way of it.\"\n\n\"He was hurt as a squire, riding in his first tourney,\" Margaery confided. \"His horse fell and crushed his leg.\"\n\n\"That snake of a Dornishman was to blame, that Oberyn Martell. And his maester as well.\"\n\n\"I CALLED FORA KNIGHT, BUT YOU'RE A BEAR! A BEAR! A BEAR! ALL BLACK AND BROWN AND COVERED WITH HAIR!\"\n\n\"Willas has a bad leg but a good heart,\" said Margaery. \"He used to read tome when I was a little girl, and draw me pictures of the stars. You will love him as much as we do, Sansa.\"\n\n\"SHE KICKED AND WAILED, THE MAID SO FAIR, BUT HE LICKED THE HONEY FROM HER HAIR. HER HAIR! HER HAIR! HE LICKED THE HONEY FROM HER HAIR!\"\n\n\"When might I meet him?\" asked Sansa, hesitantly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Soon,\" promised Margaery."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"When you come to Highgarden, after Joffrey and I are wed. My grandmother will take you.\"\n\n\"I will,\" said the old woman, patting Sansa's hand and smiling a soft wrinkly smile. \"I will indeed.\"\n\n\"THEN SHE SIGHED AND SQUEALED AND KICKED THE AIR! MY BEAR! SHE SANG. MY BEAR SO FAIR! AND OFF THEY WENT, FROM HERETO THERE, THE BEAR, THE BEAR, AND THE MAIDEN FAIR.\" Butterbumps roared the last line, leapt into the air, and came down on both feet with a crash that shook the wine cups on the table. The women laughed and clapped.\n\n\"I thought that dreadful song would never end,\" said the Queen of Thorns. \"But look, here comes my cheese.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JON\n\nThe world was grey darkness, smelling of pine and moss and cold. Pale mists rose from the black earth as the riders threaded their way through the scatter of stones and scraggly trees, down toward the welcoming fires strewn like jewels across the floor of the river valley below. There were more fires than Jon Snow could count, hundreds of fires, thousands, a second river of flickery lights along the banks of the icy white Milkwater. The fingers of his sword hand opened and closed.\n\nThey descended the ridge without banners or trumpets, the quiet broken only by the distant murmur of the river, the clop of hooves, and the clacking of Rattleshirt's bone armor. Somewhere above an eagle soared on great blue-grey wings, while below came men and dogs and horses and one white direwolf.\n\nA stone bounced down the slope, disturbed by a passing hoof, and Jon saw Ghost turn his head at the sudden sound. He had followed the riders at a distance all day, as was his custom, but when the moon rose over the soldier pines he'd come bounding up, red eyes aglow. Rattleshirt's dogs greeted him with a chorus of snarls and growls and wild barking, as ever, but the direwolf paid them no mind. Six days ago, the largest hound had attacked him from behind as the wildlings camped for the night, but Ghost had turned and lunged, sending the dog fleeing with a bloody haunch. The rest of the pack maintained a healthy distance after that.\n\nJon Snow's garron whickered softly, but a touch and a soft word soon quieted the animal. Would that his own fears could becalmed so easily. He was all in black, the black of the Night's Watch, but the enemy rode before and behind. Wildlings, and I am with them. Ygritte wore the cloak of Qhorin Halfhand. Lenyl had his hauberk, the big spearwife Ragwyle his gloves, one of the bowmen his boots. Qhorin's helm had been won by the short homely man called Longspear Ryk, but it fit poorly on his narrow head, so he'd given that to Ygritte as well. And Rattleshirt had Qhorin's bones in his bag, along with the bloody head of Ebben, who set outwith Jon to scout the Skirling Pass. Dead, all dead but me, and I am dead to the world."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ygritte rode just behind him. In front was Longspear Ryk. The Lord of Bones had made the two of them his guards. \"If the crow flies, I'll boil your bones as well,\" he warned them when they had set out, smiling through the crooked teeth of the giant's skull he wore fora helm.\n\nYgritte hooted at him. \"You want to guard him? If you want us to do it, leave us be and we'll do it.\"\n\nThese area free folk indeed, Jon saw. Rattleshirt might lead them, but none of them were shy in talking back to him.\n\nThe wildling leader fixed him with an unfriendly stare. \"Might be you fooled these others, crow, but don't think you'll be fooling Mance. He'll take one look a\" you and know you're false. And when he does, I'll make a cloak o'your wolf there, and open your soft boy's belly and sew a weasel up inside.\"\n\nJon's sword hand opened and closed, flexing the burned fingers beneath the glove, but Longspear Ryk only laughed. \"And where would you find a weasel in the snow?\"\n\nThat first night, after along day ahorse, they made camp in a shallow stone bowl atop a nameless mountain, huddling close to the fire while the snow began to fall. Jon watched the flakes melt as they drifted over the flames. Despite his layers of wool and fur and leather, he'd felt cold to the bone. Ygritte sat beside him after she had eaten, her hood pulled up and her hands tucked into her sleeves for warmth. \"When Mance hears how you did for Halfhand, he'll take you quick enough,\" she told him.\n\n\"Take me for what?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The girl laughed scornfully."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"For one o'us. D'ya think you're the first crow ever flew down off the Wall? In your hearts you all want to fly free.\"\n\n\"And when I'm free,\" he said slowly, \"will I be free to go?\"\n\n\"Sure you will.\" She had a warm smile, despite her crooked teeth. \"And we'll be free to kill you. It's dangerous being free, but most come to like the taste o'it.\" She put her gloved hand on his leg, just above the knee. \"You'll see.\"\n\nI will, thought Jon. I will see, and hear, and learn, and when I have I will carry the word back to the Wall. The wildlings had taken him for an oathbreaker, but in his heart he was still a man of the Night's Watch, doing the last duty that Qhorin Halfhand had laid on him. Before I killed him.\n\nAt the bottom of the slope they came upon a little stream flowing down from the foothills to join the Milkwater. It looked all stones and glass, though they could hear the sound of water running beneath the frozen surface. Rattleshirt led them across, shattering the thin crust of ice.\n\nMance Rayder's outriders closed in as they emerged. Jon took their measure with a glance: eight riders, men and women both, clad in fur and boiled leather, with here and there a helm orbit of mail. They were armed with spears and fire-hardened lances, all but their leader, a fleshy blond man with watery eyes who bore a great curved scythe of sharpened steel. The Weeper, he knew at once. The black brothers told tales of this one. Like Rattleshirt and Harma Dogshead and Alfyn Crowkiller, he was a known raider."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Lord o'Bones,\" the Weeper said when he saw them. He eyed Jon and his wolf. \"Who's this, then?\"\n\n\"A crow come over,\" said Rattleshirt, who preferred to be called the Lord of Bones, for the clattering armor he wore. \"He was afraid I'd take his bones as well as Halfhand's.\" He shook his sack of trophies at the other wildlings.\n\n\"He slew Qhorin Halfhand,\" said Longspear Ryk. \"Him and that wolf o' his.\"\n\n\"And did for Orell too,\" said Rattleshirt.\n\n\"The lad's a warg, or close enough,\" put in Ragwyle, the big spearwife. \"His wolf took apiece o\" Halfhand's leg.\"\n\nThe Weeper's red rheumy eyes gave Jon another look. \"Aye? Well, he has a wolfish cast to him, now as I look close. Bring him to Mance, might be he'll keep him.\" He wheeled his horse around and galloped off, his riders hard behind him.\n\nThe wind was blowing wet and heavy as they crossed the valley of the Milkwater and rode singlefile through the river camp. Ghost kept close to Jon, but the scent of him went before them like a herald, and soon there were wildling dogs all around them, growling and barking. Lenyl screamed at them to be quiet, but they paid him no heed. \"They don't much care for that beast o\" yours,\" Longspear Ryk said to Jon.\n\n\"They're dogs and he's a wolf,\" said Jon. \"They know he's not their kind.\" No more than I am yours. But he had his duty to be mindful of, the task Qhorin Halfhand had laid upon him as they shared that final fire-to play the part of turncloak, and find whatever it was that the wildlings had been seeking in the bleak cold wilderness of the Frostfangs. \"Some power,\" Qhorin had named it to the Old Bear, but he had died before learning what it was, or whether Mance Rayder had found it with his digging."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There were cookfires all along the river, amongst wayns and carts and sleds."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Many of the wildlings had thrown up tents, of hide and skin and felted wool. Others sheltered behind rocks in crude lean-tos, or slept beneath their wagons. Atone fire Jon saw a man hardening the points of long wooden spears and tossing them in a pile. Elsewhere two bearded youths in boiled leather were sparring with staffs, leaping at each other over the flames, grunting each time one landed a blow. A dozen women sat nearby in a circle, fletching arrows.\n\nArrows for my brothers, Jon thought. Arrows for my father's folk, for the people of Winterfell and Deepwood Motte and the Last Hearth. Arrows for the north.\n\nBut not all he saw was warlike. He saw women dancing as well, and heard a baby crying, and a little boy ran in front of his garron, all bundled up in fur and breathless from play. Sheep and goats wandered freely, while oxen plodded along the riverbank in search of grass. The smell of roast mutton drifted from one cookfire, and at another he saw a boar turning on a wooden spit.\n\nIn an open space surrounded by tall green soldier pines, Rattleshirt dismounted. \"We'll make camp here,\" he told Lenyl and Ragwyle and the others. \"Feed the horses, then the dogs, then yourself. Ygritte, Longspear, bring the crow so Mance can have his look. We'll gut him after.\"\n\nThey walked the rest of the way, past more cookfires and more tents, with Ghost following at their heels. Jon had never seen so many wildlings. He wondered if anyone ever had. The camp goes on forever, he reflected, but it's more a hundred camps than one, and each more vulnerable than the last. Stretched out overlong leagues, the wildlings had no defenses to speak of, no pits nor sharpened stakes, only small groups of outriders patrolling their perimeters. Each group or clan or village had simply stopped where they wanted, as soon as they saw others stopping or found a likely spot. The free folk. If his brothers were to catch them in such disarray, many of them would pay for that freedom with their life's blood. They had numbers, but the Night's Watch had discipline, and in battle discipline beats numbers nine times of every ten, his father had once told him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was no doubting which tent was the king's. It was thrice the size of the next largest he'd seen, and he could hear music drifting from within. Like many of the lesser tents it was made of sewn hides with the fur still on, but Mance Rayder's hides were the shaggy white pelts of snow bears. The peaked roof was crowned with a huge set of antlers from one of the giant elks that had once roamed freely throughout the Seven Kingdoms, in the times of the First Men.\n\nHere at least they found defenders; two guards at the flap of the tent, leaning on tall spears with round leather shields strapped to their arms. When they caught sight of Ghost, one of them lowered his spearpoint and said, \"That beast stays here.\"\n\n\"Ghost, stay,\" Jon commanded. The direwolf sat.\n\n\"Longspear, watch the beast.\" Rattleshirt yanked open the tent and gestured Jon and Ygritte inside.\n\nThe tent was hot and smoky. Baskets of burning peat stood in all four corners, filling the air with a dim reddish light. More skins carpeted the ground. Jon felt utterly alone as he stood therein his blacks, awaiting the pleasure of the turncloak who called himself King-beyond-the-Wall. When his eyes had adjusted to the smoky red gloom, he saw six people, none of whom paid him any mind. A dark young man and a pretty blonde woman were sharing a horn of mead. A pregnant woman stood over a brazier cooking a brace of hens, while a grey-haired man in a tattered cloak of black and red sat crosslegged on a pillow, playing a lute and singing:\n\nThe Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "and her kisses were warmer than spring.\n\nBut the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,\n\nand its kiss was a terrible thing.\n\nJon knew the song, though it was strange to hear it here, in a shaggy hide tent beyond the Wall, ten thousand leagues from the red mountains and warm winds of Dorne.\n\nRattleshirt took off his yellowed helm as he waited for the song to end. Beneath his bone-and-leather armor he was a small man, and the face under the giant's skull was ordinary, with a knobby chin, thin mustache, and sallow, pinched cheeks. His eyes were close-set, one eyebrow creeping all the way across his forehead, dark hair thinning back from a sharp widow's peak.\n\nThe Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,\n\nin a voice that was sweet as a peach,\n\nBut the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,\n\nand a bite sharp and cold as a leech.\n\nBeside the brazier, a short but immensely broad man sat on a stool, eating a hen off a skewer. Hot grease was running down his chin and into his snow-white beard, but he smiled happily all the same. Thick gold bands graven with runes bound his massive arms, and he wore a heavy shirt of black ringmail that could only have come from a dead ranger. A few feet away, a taller, leaner man in a leather shirt sewn with bronze scales stood frowning over a map, a two-handed greatsword slung across his back in a leather sheath. He was straight as a spear, all long wiry muscle, clean-shaved, bald, with a strong straight nose and deepset grey eyes. He might even have been comely if he'd had ears, but he had lost both along the way, whether to frostbite or some enemy's knife Jon could not tell. Their lack made the man's head seem narrow and pointed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Both the white-bearded man and the bald one were warriors, that was plain to Jon at a glance. These two are more dangerous than Rattleshirt by far. He wondered which was Mance Rayder.\n\nAshe lay on the ground with the darkness around,\n\nand the taste of his blood on his tongue,\n\nHis brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,\n\nand he smiled and he laughed and he sung,\n\n\"Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,\n\nthe Dornishman's taken my life,\n\nBut what does it matter, for all men must die,\n\nand I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!\"\n\nAs the last strains of'The Dornishman's Wife\" faded, the bald earless man glanced up from his map and scowled ferociously at Rattleshirt and Ygritte, with Jon between them. \"What's this?\" he said. \"A crow?\"\n\n\"The black bastard what gutted Orell,\" said Rattleshirt, \"and a bloody warg as well.\"\n\n\"You were to kill them all.\"\n\n\"This one come over,\" explained Ygritte. \"He slew Qhorin Halfhand with his own hand.\"\n\n\"This boy?\" The earless man was angered by the news. \"The Halfhand should have been mine. Do you have a name, crow?\"\n\n\"Jon Snow, Your Grace.\" He wondered whether he was expected to bend the knee as well.\n\n\"Your Grace?\" The earless man looked at the big white-bearded one. \"You see. He takes me fora king.\"\n\nThe bearded man laughed so hard he sprayed bits of chicken everywhere. He rubbed the grease from his mouth with the back of a huge hand. \"A blind boy, must be. Whoever heard of a king without ears? Why, his crown would fall straight down to his neck! Har!\" He grinned at Jon, wiping his fingers clean on his breeches. \"Close your beak, crow. Spin yourself around, might be you'd find who you're looking for.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon turned.\n\nThe singer rose to his feet. \"I'm Mance Rayder,\" he said as he put aside the lute. \"And you are Ned Stark's bastard, the Snow of Winterfell.\"\n\nStunned, Jon stood speechless fora moment, before he recovered enough to say, \"How... how could you know...\"\n\n\"That's a tale for later,\" said Mance Rayder. \"How did you like the song, lad?\"\n\n\"Well enough. I'd heard it before.\"\n\n\"But what does it matter, for all men must die,\" the King-beyond-the-Wall said lightly, \"and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife. Tell me, does my Lord of Bones speak truly? Did you slay my old friend the Halfhand?\"\n\n\"I did.\" Though it was his doing more than mine.\n\n\"The Shadow Tower will never again seem as fearsome,\" the king said with sadness in his voice. \"Qhorin was my enemy. But also my brother, once. So... shall I thank you for killing him, Jon Snow? Or curse you?\" He gave Jon a mocking smile.\n\nThe King-beyond-the-Wall looked nothing like a king, nor even much a wildling. He was of middling height, slender, sharp-faced, with shrewd brown eyes and long brown hair that had gone mostly to grey. There was no crown on his head, no gold rings on his arms, no jewels at his throat, not even agleam of silver. He wore wool and leather, and his only garment of note was his ragged black wool cloak, its long tears patched with faded red silk.\n\n\"You ought to thank me for killing your enemy,\" Jon said finally, \"and curse me for killing your friend.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Har!\" boomed the white-bearded man. \"Well answered!\"\n\n\"Agreed.\" Mance Rayder beckoned Jon closer. \"If you would join us, you'd best know us. The man you took for me is Styr, Magnar of Thenn. Magnar means'lord' in the Old Tongue.\" The earless man stared at Jon coldly as Mance turned to the white-bearded one. \"Our ferocious chicken-eater here is my loyal Tormund. The woman-\"\n\nTormund rose to his feet. \"Hold. You gave Styr his style, give me mine.\"\n\nMance Rayder laughed. \"As you wish. Jon Snow, before you stands Tormund Giantsbane, Tall-talker, Horn-blower, and Breaker of Ice. And here also Tormund Thunderfist, Husband to Bears, the Mead-king of Ruddy Hall, Speaker to Gods and Father of Hosts.\"\n\n\"That sounds more like me,\" said Tormund. \"Well met, Jon Snow. I am fond o'wargs, as it happens, though not o\" Starks.\"\n\n\"The good woman at the brazier,\" Mance Rayder went on, \"is Dalla.\" The pregnant woman smiled shyly. \"Treat her like you would any queen, she is carrying my child.\" He turned to the last two. \"This beauty is her sister Val. Young Jarl beside her is her latest pet.\"\n\n\"I am no man's pet,\" said Jarl, dark and fierce.\n\n\"And Val's no man,\" white-bearded Tormund snorted. \"You ought to have noticed that by now, lad.\"\n\n\"So there you have us, Jon Snow,\" said Mance Rayder. \"The King-beyond-the-Wall and his court, such as it is. And now some words from you, I think. Where did you come from?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Winterfell,\" he said, \"byway of Castle Black.\"\n\n\"And what brings you up the Milkwater, so far from the fires of home?\" He did not wait for Jon's answer, but looked at once to Rattleshirt. \"How many were they?\"\n\n\"Five. Three's dead and the boy's here. T'other went up a mountainside where no horse could follow.\"\n\nRayder's eyes met Jon's again. \"Was it only the five of you? Or are more of your brothers skulking about?\"\n\n\"We were four and the Halfhand. Qhorin was worth twenty common men.\"\n\nThe King-beyond-the-Wall smiled at that. \"Some thought so. Still... a boy from Castle Black with rangers from the Shadow Tower? How did that come to be?\"\n\nJon had his lie all ready. \"The Lord Commander sent me to the Halfhand for seasoning, so he took me on his ranging.\"\n\nStyr the Magnar frowned at that. \"Ranging, you call it... why would crows come ranging up the Skirling Pass?\"\n\n\"The villages were deserted,\" Jon said, truthfully. \"It was as if all the free folk had vanished.\"\n\n\"Vanished, aye,\" said Mance Rayder. \"And not just the free folk. Who told you where we were, Jon Snow?\"\n\nTormund snorted. \"It were Craster, or I'm a blushing maid. I told you, Mance, that creature needs to be shorter by ahead.\"\n\nThe king gave the older man an irritated look. \"Tormund, someday try thinking before you speak. I know it was Craster. I asked Jon to see if he would tell it true.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Har.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tormund spat. \"Well, I stepped in that!\" He grinned at Jon. \"See, lad, that's why he's king and I'm not. I can outdrink, outfight, and outsing him, and my member's thrice the size o'his, but Mance has cunning. He was raised a crow, you know, and the crow's a tricksy bird.\"\n\n\"I would speak with the lad alone, my Lord of Bones,\" Mance Rayder said to Rattleshirt. \"Leave us, all of you.\"\n\n\"What, meas well?\" said Tormund.\n\n\"No, you especially,\" said Mance.\n\n\"I eat in no hall where I'm not welcome.\" Tormund got to his feet. \"Me and the hens are leaving.\" He snatched another chicken off the brazier, shoved it into a pocket sewn in the lining of his cloak, said'Har,\" and left licking his fingers. The others followed him out, all but the woman Dalla.\n\n\"Sit, if you like,\" Rayder said when they were gone. \"Are you hungry? Tormund left us two birds at least.\"\n\n\"I would be pleased to eat, Your Grace. And thank you.\"\n\n\"Your Grace?\" The king smiled. \"That's not a style one often hears from the lips of free folk. I'm Mance to most, The Mance to some. Will you take a horn of mead?\"\n\n\"Gladly,\" said Jon.\n\nThe king poured himself as Dalla cut the well-crisped hens apart and brought them each a half. Jon peeled off his gloves and ate with his fingers, sucking every morsel of meat off the bones.\n\n\"Tormund spoke truly,\" said Mance Rayder as he ripped apart a loaf of bread. \"The black crow is a tricksy bird, that's so... but I was a crow when you were no bigger than the babe in Dalla's belly, Jon Snow. So take care not to play tricksy with me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As you say, Your-Mance.\"\n\nThe king laughed. \"Your Mance! Why not? I promised you a tale before, of how I knew you. Have you puzzled it out yet?\"\n\nJon shook his head. \"Did Rattleshirt send word ahead?\"\n\n\"By wing? We have no trained ravens. No, I knew your face. I've seen it before. Twice.\"\n\nIt made no sense at first, but as Jon turned it over in his mind, dawn broke. \"When you were a brother of the Watch...\"\n\n\"Very good! Yes, that was the first time. You were just a boy, and I was all in black, one of a dozen riding escort to old Lord Commander Qorgyle when he came down to see your father at Winterfell. I was walking the wall around the yard when I came on you and your brother Robb. It had snowed the night before, and the two of you had built a great mountain above the gate and were waiting for someone likely to pass underneath.\"\n\n\"I remember,\" said Jon with a startled laugh. A young black brother on the wallwalk, yes...\"You swore not to tell.\"\n\n\"And kept my vow. That one, at least.\"\n\n\"We dumped the snow on Fat Tom. He was Father's slowest guardsman.\" Tom had chased them around the yard afterward, until all three were red as autumn apples. \"But you said you saw me twice. When was the other time?\"\n\n\"When King Robert came to Winterfell to make your father Hand,\" the King-beyond-the-Wall said lightly.\n\nJon's eyes widened in disbelief. \"That can't be so.\"\n\n\"It was. When your father learned the king was coming, he sent word to his brother Benjen on the Wall, so he might comedown for the feast. There is more commerce between the black brothers and the free folk than you know, and soon enough word came to my ears as well. It was too choice a chance to resist. Your uncle did not know me by sight, so I had no fear from that quarter, and I did not think your father was like to remember a young crow he'd met briefly years before. I wanted to see this Robert with my own eyes, king toking, and get the measure of your uncle Benjen as well. He was First Ranger by then, and the bane of all my people. So I saddled my fleetest horse, and rode.\""
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But,\" Jon objected, \"the Wall...\"\n\n\"The Wall can stop an army, but not a man alone. I took a lute and a bag of silver, scaled the ice near Long Barrow, walked a few leagues south of the New Gift, and bought a horse. All in all I made much better time than Robert, who was traveling with a ponderous great wheelhouse to keep his queen in comfort. A day south of Winterfell I came upon him and fell in with his company. Freeriders and hedge knights are always attaching themselves to royal processions, in hopes of finding service with the king, and my lute gained me easy acceptance.\" He laughed. \"I know every bawdy song that's ever been made, north or south of the Wall. So there you are. The night your father feasted Robert, I satin the back of his hall on a bench with the other freeriders, listening to Orland of Oldtown play the high harp and sing of dead kings beneath the sea. I betook of your lord father's meat and mead, had a look at Kingslayer and Imp... and made passing note of Lord Eddard's children and the wolf pups that ran at their heels.\"\n\n\"Bael the Bard,\" said Jon, remembering the tale that Ygritte had told him in the Frostfangs, the night he'd almost killed her.\n\n\"Would that I were. I will not deny that Bael's exploit inspired mine own... but I did not steal either of your sisters that I recall. Bael wrote his own songs, and lived them. I only sing the songs that better men have made. More mead?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jon. \"If you had been discovered... taken...\"\n\n\"Your father would have had my head off.\" The king gave a shrug. \"Though once I had eaten at his board I was protected by guest right. The laws of hospitality areas old as the First Men, and sacred as a heart tree.\" He gestured at the board between them, the broken bread and chicken bones. \"Here you are the guest, and safe from harm at my hands... this night, at least. So tell me truly, Jon Snow. Are you a craven who turned your cloak from fear, or is there another reason that brings you to my tent?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Guest right or no, Jon Snow knew he walked on rotten ice here. One false step and he might plunge through, into water cold enough to stop his heart. Weigh every word before you speak it, he told himself. He took along draught of mead to buy time for his answer. When he set the horn aside he said, \"Tell me why you turned your cloak, and I'll tell you why I turned mine.\"\n\nMance Rayder smiled, as Jon had hoped he would. The king was plainly a man who liked the sound of his own voice. \"You will have heard stories of my desertion, I have no doubt.\"\n\n\"Some say it was fora crown. Some say fora woman. Others that you had the wildling blood.\"\n\n\"The wildling blood is the blood of the First Men, the same blood that flows in the veins of the Starks. As to a crown, do you see one?\"\n\n\"I see a woman.\" He glanced at Dalla.\n\nMance took her by the hand and pulled her close. \"My lady is blameless. I met heron my return from your father's castle. The Halfhand was carved of old oak, but I am made of flesh, and I have a great fondness for the charms of women... which makes me no different from three-quarters of the Watch. There are men still wearing black who have had ten times as many women as this poor king. You must guess again, Jon Snow.\"\n\nJon considered a moment. \"The Halfhand said you had a passion for wildling music.\"\n\n\"I did. I do. That's closer to the mark, yes. But not a hit.\" Mance Rayder rose, unfastened the clasp that held his cloak, and swept it over the bench. \"It was for this.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A cloak?\"\n\n\"The black wool cloak of a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch,\" said the King-beyond-the-Wall. \"One day on a ranging we brought down a fine big elk. We were skinning it when the smell of blood drew a shadow-cat out of its lair. I drove it off, but not before it shredded my cloak to ribbons. Do you see? Here, here, and here?\" He chuckled. \"It shredded my arm and back as well, and I bled worse than the elk. My brothers feared I might die before they got me back to Maester Mullin at the Shadow Tower, so they carried me to a wildling village where we knew an old wisewoman did some healing. She was dead, as it happened, but her daughter saw tome. Cleaned my wounds, sewed me up, and fed me porridge and potions until I was strong enough to ride again. And she sewed up the rents in my cloak as well, with some scarlet silk from Asshai that her grandmother had pulled from the wreck of a cog washed upon the Frozen Shore. It was the greatest treasure she had, and her gift tome.\" He swept the cloak back over his shoulders. \" But at the Shadow Tower, I was given anew wool cloak from stores, black and black, and trimmed with black, to go with my black breeches and black boots, my black doublet and blackmail. The new cloak had no frays nor rips nor tears... and most of all, no red. The men of the Night's Watch dressed in black, Ser Denys Mallister reminded me sternly, as if I had forgotten. My old cloak was fit for burning now, he said.\n\n\"I left the next morning... fora place where a kiss was not a crime, and a man could wear any cloak he chose.\" He closed the clasp and sat back down again. \"And you, Jon Snow?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jon took another swallow of mead."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There is only one tale that he might believe. \"You say you were at Winterfell, the night my father feasted King Robert.\"\n\n\"I did say it, for I was.\"\n\n\"Then you saw us all. Prince Joffrey and Prince Tommen, Princess Myrcella, my brothers Robb and Bran and Rickon, my sisters Arya and Sansa. You saw them walk the center aisle with every eye upon them and take their seats at the table just below the dais where the king and queen were seated.\"\n\n\"I remember.\"\n\n\"And did you see where I was seated, Mance?\" He leaned forward. \"Did you see where they put the bastard?\"\n\nMance Rayder looked at Jon's face fora long moment. \"I think we had best find you anew cloak,\" the king said, holding out his hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "DAENERYS\n\nAcross the still blue water came the slow steady beat of drums and the soft swish of oars from the galleys. The great cog groaned in their wake, the heavy lines stretched taut between. Balerion 's sails hung limp, drooping forlorn from the masts. Yet even so, as she stood upon the forecastle watching her dragons chase each other across a cloudless blue sky, Daenerys Targaryen was as happy as she could ever remember being.\n\nHer Dothraki called the sea the poison water, distrusting any liquid that their horses could not drink. On the day the three ships had lifted anchor at Quarth, you would have thought they were sailing to hell instead of Pentos. Her brave young bloodriders had stared off at the dwindling coastline with huge white eyes, each of the three determined to show no fear before the other two, while her handmaids Irri and Jhiqui clutched the rail desperately and retched over the side at every little swell. The rest of Dany's tiny khalasar remained below decks, preferring the company of their nervous horses to the terrifying landless world about the ships. When a sudden squall had enveloped them six days into the voyage, she heard them through the hatches; the horses kicking and screaming, the riders praying in thin quavery voices each time Balerion heaved or swayed.\n\nNo squall could frighten Dany, though. Daenerys Stormborn, she was called, for she had come howling into the world on distant Dragonstone as the greatest storm in the memory of Westeros howled outside, a storm so fierce that it ripped gargoyles from the castle walls and smashed her father's fleet to kindling.\n\nThe narrow sea was often stormy, and Dany had crossed it half a hundred times as a girl, running from one Free City to the next half a step ahead of the Usurper's hired knives. She loved the sea. She liked the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of horizons bounded only by a vault of azure sky above. It made her feel small, but free as well. She liked the dolphins that sometimes swam along beside Balerion, slicing through the waves like silvery spears, and the flying fish they glimpsed now and again. She even liked the sailors, with all their songs and stories. Once on a voyage to Braavos, as she'd watched the crew wrestle down a great green sail in arising gale, she had even thought how fine it would be to be a sailor. But when she told her brother, Viserys had twisted her hair until she cried. \"You are blood of the dragon,\" he had screamed at her. \"A dragon, not some smelly fish.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He was a fool about that, and so much else, Dany thought."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If he had been wiser and more patient, it would be him sailing west to take the throne that was his by rights. Viserys had been stupid and vicious, she had come to realize, yet sometimes she missed him all the same. Not the cruel weak man he had become by the end, but the brother who had sometimes let her creep into his bed, the boy who told her tales of the Seven Kingdoms, and talked of how much better their lives would be once he claimed his crown.\n\nThe captain appeared at her elbow. \"Would that this Balerion could soar as her namesake did, Your Grace,\" he said in bastard Valyrian heavily flavored with accents of Pentos. \"Then we should not need to row, nor tow, nor pray for wind.\"\n\n\"Just so, Captain,\" she answered with a smile, pleased to have won the man over. Captain Groleo was an old Pentoshi like his master, Illyrio Mopatis, and he had been nervous as a maiden about carrying three dragons on his ship. Half a hundred buckets of seawater still hung from the gunwales, in case of fires. At first Groleo had wanted the dragons caged and Dany had consented to put his fears at ease, but their misery was so palpable that she soon changed her mind and insisted they be freed.\n\nEven Captain Groleo was glad of that, now. There had been one small fire, easily extinguished; against that, Balerion suddenly seemed to have far fewer rats than she'd had before, when she sailed under the name Saduleon. And her crew, once as fearful as they were curious, had begun to take a queer fierce pride in'their\" dragons. Every man of them, from captain to cook's boy, loved to watch the three fly... though none so much as Dany."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They are my children, she told herself, and if the maegi spoke truly, they are the only children I am ever like to have.\n\nViserion's scales were the color of fresh cream, his horns, wing bones, and spinal crest a dark gold that flashed bright as metal in the sun. Rhaegal was made of the green of summer and the bronze of fall. They soared above the ships in wide circles, higher and higher, each trying to climb above the other.\n\nDragons always preferred to attack from above, Dany had learned. Should either get between the other and the sun, he would fold his wings and dive screaming, and they would tumble from the sky locked together in a tangled scaly ball, jaws snapping and tails lashing. The first time they had done it, she feared that they meant to kill each other, but it was only sport. No sooner would they splash into the sea than they would break apart and rise again, shrieking and hissing, the saltwater steaming off them as their wings clawed at the air. Drogon was aloft as well, though not insight; he would be miles ahead, or miles behind, hunting.\n\nHe was always hungry, her Drogon. Hungry and growing fast. Another year, or perhaps two, and he maybe large enough to ride. Then I shall have no need of ships to cross the great salt sea.\n\nBut that time was not yet come. Rhaegal and Viserion were the size of small dogs, Drogon only a little larger, and any dog would have out-weighed them; they were all wings and neck and tail, lighter than they looked. And so Daenerys Targaryen must rely on wood and wind and canvas to bear her home.\n\nThe wood and the canvas had served her well enough so far, but the fickle wind had turned traitor. For six days and six nights they had been becalmed, and now a seventh day had come, and still no breath of air to fill their sails. Fortunately, two of the ships that Magister Illyrio had sent after her were trading galleys, with two hundred oars apiece and crews of strong-armed oarsmen to row them. But the great cog Balerion was a song of a different key; a ponderous broad-beamed sow of a ship with immense holds and huge sails, but helpless in a calm. Vhagar and Meraxes had let outlines to tow her, but it made for painfully slow going. All three ships were crowded, and heavily laden."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I cannot see Drogon,\" said Ser Jorah Mormont as he joined heron the forecastle. \"Is he lost again?\"\n\n\"We are the ones who are lost, ser. Drogon has no taste for this wet creeping, no more than I do.\" Bolder than the other two, her black dragon had been the first to try his wings above the water, the first to flutter from ship to ship, the first to lose himself in a passing cloud... and the first to kill. The flying fish no sooner broke the surface of the water than they were enveloped in a lance of flame, snatched up, and swallowed. \"How big will he grow?\" Dany asked curiously. \"Do you know?\"\n\n\"In the Seven Kingdoms, there are tales of dragons who grew so huge that they could pluck giant krakens from the seas.\"\n\nDany laughed. \"That would be a wondrous sight to see.\"\n\n\"It is only a tale, Khaleesi,\" said her exile knight. \"They talk of wise old dragons living a thousand years as well.\"\n\n\"Well, how long does a dragon live?\" She looked up as Viserion swooped low over the ship, his wings beating slowly and stirring the limp sails.\n\nSer Jorah shrugged. \"A dragon's natural span of days is many times as long as a man's, or so the songs would have us believe... but the dragons the Seven Kingdoms knew best were those of House Targaryen. They were bred for war, and in war they died. It is no easy thing to slay a dragon, but it can be done.\"\n\nThe squire Whitebeard, standing by the figurehead with one lean hand curled about his tall hardwood staff, turned toward them and said, \"Balerion the Black Dread was two hundred years old when he died during the reign of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. He was so large he could swallow an aurochs whole. A dragon never stops growing, Your Grace, so long as he has food and freedom.\" His name was Arstan, but Strong Belwas had named him Whitebeard for his pale whiskers, and most everyone called him that now. He was taller than Ser Jorah, though not so muscular; his eyes were a pale blue, his long beard as white as snow and as fine as silk."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Freedom?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "asked Dany, curious. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"In King's Landing, your ancestors raised an immense domed castle for their dragons. The Dragonpit, it is called. It still stands atop the Hill of Rhaenys, though all in ruins now. That was where the royal dragons dwelt in days of yore, and a cavernous dwelling it was, with iron doors so wide that thirty knights could ride through them abreast. Yet even so, it was noted that none of the pit dragons ever reached the size of their ancestors. The maesters say it was because of the walls around them, and the great dome above their heads.\"\n\n\"If walls could keep us small, peasants would all be tiny and kings as large as giants,\" said Ser Jorah. \"I've seen huge men born in hovels, and dwarfs who dwelt in castles.\"\n\n\"Men are men,\" Whitebeard replied. \"Dragons are dragons.\"\n\nSer Jorah snorted his disdain. \"How profound.\" The exile knight had no love for the old man, he'd made that plain from the first. \"What do you know of dragons, anyway?\"\n\n\"Little enough, that's true. Yet I served fora time in King's Landing in the days when King Aerys sat the Iron Throne, and walked beneath the dragonskulls that looked down from the walls of his throne room.\"\n\n\"Viserys talked of those skulls,\" said Dany. \"The Usurper took them down and hid them away. He could not bear them looking down on him upon his stolen throne.\" She beckoned Whitebeard closer. \"Did you ever meet my royal father?\" King Aerys II had died before his daughter was born.\n\n\"I had that great honor, Your Grace.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did you find him good and gentle?\"\n\nWhitebeard did his best to hide his feelings, but they were there, plain on his face. \"His Grace was... often pleasant.\"\n\n\"Often?\" Dany smiled. \"But not always?\"\n\n\"He could be very harsh to those he thought his enemies.\"\n\n\"A wise man never makes an enemy of a king,\" said Dany. \"Did you know my brother Rhaegar as well?\"\n\n\"It was said that no man ever knew Prince Rhaegar, truly. I had the privilege of seeing him in tourney, though, and often heard him play his harp with its silver strings.\"\n\nSer Jorah snorted. \"Along with a thousand others at some harvest feast. Next you'll claim you squired for him.\"\n\n\"I make no such claim, ser. Myles Mooton was Prince Rhaegar's squire, and Richard Lonmouth after him. When they won their spurs, he knighted them himself, and they remained his close companions. Young Lord Connington was dear to the prince as well, but his oldest friend was Arthur Dayne.\"\n\n\"The Sword of the Morning!\" said Dany, delighted. \"Viserys used to talk about his wondrous white blade. He said Ser Arthur was the only knight in the realm who was our brother's peer.\"\n\nWhitebeard bowed his head. \"It is not my place to question the words of Prince Viserys.\"\n\n\"King,\" Dany corrected. \"He was a king, though he never reigned. Viserys, the Third of His Name. But what do you mean?\" His answer had not been one that she'd expected. \"Ser Jorah named Rhaegar the last dragon once. He had to have been a peerless warrior to be called that, surely?\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your Grace,\" said Whitebeard, \"the Prince of Dragonstone was a most puissant warrior, but...\"\n\n\"Goon,\" she urged. \"You may speak freely tome.\"\n\n\"As you command.\" The old man leaned upon his hardwood staff, his brow furrowed. \"A warrior without peer... those are fine words, Your Grace, but words win no battles.\"\n\n\"Swords win battles,\" Ser Jorah said bluntly. \"And Prince Rhaegar knew how to use one.\"\n\n\"He did, ser, but... I have seen a hundred tournaments and more wars than I would wish, and however strong or fast or skilled a knight maybe, there are others who can match him. A man will win one tourney, and fall quickly in the next. A slick spot in the grass may mean defeat, or what you ate for supper the night before. A change in the wind may bring the gift of victory.\" He glanced at Ser Jorah. \"Ora lady's favor knotted round an arm.\"\n\nMormont's face darkened. \"Be careful what you say, old man.\"\n\nArstan had seen Ser Jorah fight at Lannisport, Dany knew, in the tourney Mormont had won with a lady's favor knotted round his arm. He had won the lady too; Lynesse of House Hightower, his second wife, highborn and beautiful... but she had ruined him, and abandoned him, and the memory of her was bitter to him now. \"Be gentle, my knight.\" She put a hand on Jorah's arm. \"Arstan had no wish to give offense, I'm certain.\"\n\n\"As you say, Khaleesi.\" Ser Jorah's voice was grudging.\n\nDany turned back to the squire. \"I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The old man considered a moment. \"Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded. There is a tale told of him... but doubtless Ser Jorah knows it as well.\"\n\n\"I would hear it from you.\"\n\n\"As you wish,\" said Whitebeard. \"As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father's knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said,\"I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior. '\"\n\n\"And he was!\" said Dany, delighted.\n\n\"He was indeed.\" Whitebeard bowed. \"My pardons, Your Grace. We speak of warriors, and I see that Strong Belwas has arisen. I must attend him.\"\n\nDany glanced aft. The eunuch was climbing through the hold amidships, nimble for all his size. Belwas was squat but broad, a good fifteen stone of fat and muscle, his great brown gut crisscrossed by faded white scars. He wore baggy pants, a yellow silk bellyband, and an absurdly tiny leather vest dotted with iron studs. \"Strong Belwas is hungry!\" he roared at everyone and no one in particular. \"Strong Belwas will eat now!\" Turning, he spied Arstan on the forecastle. \"Whitebeard! You will bring food for Strong Belwas!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You may go,\" Dany told the squire. He bowed again, and moved off to tend the needs of the man he served.\n\nSer Jorah watched with a frown on his blunt honest face. Mormont was big and burly, strong of jaw and thick of shoulder. Not a handsome man by any means, but as true a friend as Dany had ever known. \"You would be wise to take that old man's words well salted,\" he told her when Whitebeard was out of earshot.\n\n\"A queen must listen to all,\" she reminded him. \"The highborn and the low, the strong and the weak, the noble and the venal. One voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found.\" She had read that in a book.\n\n\"Hear my voice then, Your Grace,\" the exile said. \"This Arstan Whitebeard is playing you false. He is too old to be a squire, and too well spoken to be serving that oaf of a eunuch.\"\n\nThat does seem queer, Dany had to admit. Strong Belwas was an ex-slave, bred and trained in the fighting pits of Meereen. Magister Illyrio had sent him to guard her, or so Belwas claimed, and it was true that she needed guarding. The Usurper on his Iron Throne had offered land and lordship to any man who killed her. One attempt had been made already, with a cup of poisoned wine. The closer she came to Westeros, the more likely another attack became. Back in Qarth, the warlock Pyat Pree had sent a Sorrowful Man after her to avenge the Undying she'd burned in their House of Dust. Warlocks never forgot a wrong, it was said, and the Sorrowful Men never failed to kill. Most of the Dothraki would be against her as well. Khal Drogo's kos led khalasars of their own now, and none of them would hesitate to attack her own little band on sight, to slay and slave her people and drag Dany herself back to Vaes Dothrak to take her proper place among the withered crones of the dosh khaleen. She hoped that Xaro Xhoan Daxos was not an enemy, but the Quartheen merchant had coveted her dragons. And there was Quaithe of the Shadow, that strange woman in the red lacquer mask with all her cryptic counsel. Was she an enemy too, or only a dangerous friend? Dany could not say."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Jorah saved me from the poisoner, and Arstan Whitebeard from the manticore. Perhaps Strong Belwas will save me from the next. He was huge enough, with arms like small trees and a great curved arakh so sharp he might have shaved with it, in the unlikely event of hair sprouting on those smooth brown cheeks. Yet he was childlike as well. As a protector, he leaves much to be desired. Thankfully, I have Ser Jorah and my bloodriders. And my dragons, never forget. In time, the dragons would be her most formidable guardians, just as they had been for Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters three hundred years ago. Just now, though, they brought her more danger than protection. In all the world there were but three living dragons, and those were hers; they were a wonder, and a terror, and beyond price.\n\nShe was pondering her next words when she felt a cool breath on the back of her neck, and a loose strand of her silver-gold hair stirred against her brow. Above, the canvas creaked and moved, and suddenly a great cry went up from allover Balerion. \"Wind!\" the sailors shouted. \"The wind returns, the wind!\"\n\nDany looked up to where the great cog's sails rippled and belled as the lines thrummed and tightened and sang the sweet song they had missed so for six long days. Captain Groleo rushed aft, shouting commands. The Pentoshi were scrambling up the masts, those that were not cheering. Even Strong Belwas let out a great bellow and did a little dance. \"The gods are good!\" Dany said. \"You see, Jorah? We are on our way once more.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"but to what, my queen?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "All day the wind blew, steady from the east at first, and then in wild gusts. The sunset in ablaze of red. I am still half a world from Westeros, Dany reminded herself, but every hour brings me closer. She tried to imagine what it would feel like, when she first caught sight of the land she was born to rule. It will be as fair ashore as I have ever seen, I know it. How could it be otherwise?\n\nBut later that night, as Balerion plunged onward through the dark and Dany sat crosslegged on her bunk in the captain's cabin, feeding her dragons-\"Even upon the sea,\" Groleo had said, so graciously, \"queens take precedence over captains\"-a sharp knock came upon the door.\n\nIrri had been sleeping at the foot of her bunk (it was too narrow for three, and tonight was Jhiqui's turn to share the soft featherbed with her khaleesi), but the handmaid roused at the knock and went to the door. Dany pulled up a coverlet and tucked it in under her arms. She was naked, and had not expected a caller at this hour. \"Come,\" she said when she saw Ser Jorah standing without, beneath a swaying lantern.\n\nThe exile knight ducked his head as he entered. \"Your Grace. I am sorry to disturb your sleep.\"\n\n\"I was not sleeping, ser. Come and watch.\" She took a chunk of salt pork out of the bowl in her lap and held it up for her dragons to see. All three of them eyed it hungrily. Rhaegal spread green wings and stirred the air, and Viserion's neck swayed back and forth like along pale snake's as he followed the movement of her hand. \"Drogon,\" Dany said softly, \"dracarys.\" And she tossed the pork in the air."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drogon moved quicker than a striking cobra. Flame roared from his mouth, orange and scarlet and black, searing the meat before it began to fall. As his sharp black teeth snapped shut around it, Rhaegal's head darted close, as if to steal the prize from his brother's jaws, but Drogon swallowed and screamed, and the smaller green dragon could only hiss in frustration.\n\n\"Stop that, Rhaegal,\" Dany said in annoyance, giving his head a swat. \"You had the last one. I'll have no greedy dragons.\" She smiled at Ser Jorah. \"I won't need to char their meat over a brazier any longer.\"\n\n\"So I see. Dracarys?\"\n\nAll three dragons turned their heads at the sound of that word, and Viserion let loose with a blast of pale gold flame that made Ser Jorah take a hasty step backward. Dany giggled. \"Be careful with that word, ser, or they're like to singe your beard off. It means'dragonfire' in High Valyrian. I wanted to choose a command that no one was like to utter by chance.\"\n\nMormont nodded. \"Your Grace,\" he said, \"I wonder if I might have a few private words?\"\n\n\"Of course. Irri, leave us fora bit.\" She put a hand on Jhiqui's bare shoulder and shook the other handmaid awake. \"You as well, sweetling. Ser Jorah needs to talk tome.\"\n\n\"Yes, Khaleesi.\" Jhiqui tumbled from the bunk, naked and yawning, her thick black hair tumbled about her head. She dressed quickly and left with Irri, closing the door behind them.\n\nDany gave the dragons the rest of the salt pork to squabble over, and patted the bed beside her. \"Sit, good ser, and tell me what is troubling you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Three things.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Jorah sat. \"Strong Belwas. This Arstan Whitebeard. And Illyrio Mopatis, who sent them.\"\n\nAgain? Dany pulled the coverlet higher and tugged one end over her shoulder. \"And why is that?\"\n\n\"The warlocks in Qarth told you that you would be betrayed three times,\" the exile knight reminded her, as Viserion and Rhaegal began to snap and claw at each other.\n\n\"Once for blood and once for gold and once for love.\" Dany was not like to forget. \"Mirri Maz Duur was the first.\"\n\n\"Which means two traitors yet remain... and now these two appear. I find that troubling, yes. Never forget, Robert offered a lordship to the man who slays you.\"\n\nDany leaned forward and yanked Viserion's tail, to pull him off his green brother. Her blanket fell away from her chest as she moved. She grabbed it hastily and covered herself again. \"The Usurper is dead,\" she said.\n\n\"But his son rules in his place.\" Ser Jorah lifted his gaze, and his dark eyes met her own. \"A dutiful son pays his father's debts. Even blood debts.\"\n\n\"This boy Joffrey might want me dead... if he recalls that I'm alive. What has that to do with Belwas and Arstan Whitebeard? The old man does not even wear a sword. You've seen that.\"\n\n\"Aye. And I have seen how deftly he handles that staff of his. Recall how he killed that manticore in Qarth? It might as easily have been your throat he crushed.\"\n\n\"Might have been, but was not,\" she pointed out. \"It was a stinging manticore meant to slay me. He saved my life.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Khaleesi, has it occurred to you that Whitebeard and Belwas might have been in league with the assassin? It might all have been a ploy to win your trust.\"\n\nHer sudden laughter made Drogon hiss, and sent Viserion flapping to his perch above the porthole. \"The ploy worked well.\"\n\nThe exile knight did not return her smile. \"These are Illyrio's ships, Illyrio's captains, Illyrio's sailors... and Strong Belwas and Arstan are his men as well, not yours.\"\n\n\"Magister Illyrio has protected me in the past. Strong Belwas says that he wept when he heard my brother was dead.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mormont, \"but did he weep for Viserys, or for the plans he had made with him?\"\n\n\"His plans need not change. Magister Illyrio is a friend to House Targaryen, and wealthy...\"\n\n\"He was not born wealthy. In the world as I have seen it, no man grows rich by kindness. The warlocks said the second treason would be for gold. What does Illyrio Mopatis love more than gold?\"\n\n\"His skin.\" Across the cabin Drogon stirred restlessly, steam rising from his snout. \"Mirri Maz Duur betrayed me. I burned her for it.\"\n\n\"Mirri Maz Duur was in your power. In Pentos, you shall be in Illyrio's power. It is not the same. I know the magister as well as you. He is a devious man, and clever-\"\n\n\"I need clever men about me if I am to win the Iron Throne.\"\n\nSer Jorah snorted. \"That wineseller who tried to poison you was a clever man as well. Clever men hatch ambitious schemes.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany drew her legs up beneath the blanket. \"You will protect me. You, and my bloodriders.\"\n\n\"Four men? Khaleesi, you believe you know Illyrio Mopatis, very well. Yet you insist on surrounding yourself with men you do not know, like this puffed-up eunuch and the world's oldest squire. Take a lesson from Pyat Pree and Xaro Xhoan Daxos.\"\n\nHe means well, Dany reminded herself. He does all he does for love. \"It seems tome that a queen who trusts no one is as foolish as a queen who trusts everyone. Every man I take into my service is a risk, I understand that, but how am Ito win the Seven Kingdoms without such risks? Am Ito conquer Westeros with one exile knight and three Dothraki bloodriders?\"\n\nHis jaw set stubbornly. \"Your path is dangerous, I will not deny that. But if you blindly trust in every liar and schemer who crosses it, you will end as your brothers did.\"\n\nHis obstinacy made her angry. He treats me like some child. \"Strong Belwas could not scheme his way to breakfast. And what lies has Arstan Whitebeard told me?\"\n\n\"He is not what he pretends to be. He speaks to you more boldly than any squire would dare.\"\n\n\"He spoke frankly at my command. He knew my brother.\"\n\n\"A great many men knew your brother. Your Grace, in Westeros the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard sits on the small council, and serves the king with his wits as well as his steel. If I am the first of your Queensguard, I pray you, hear me out. I have a plan to put to you.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 10"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany drew her legs up beneath the blanket. \"You will protect me. You, and my bloodriders.\"\n\n\"Four men? Khaleesi, you believe you know Illyrio Mopatis, very well. Yet you insist on surrounding yourself with men you do not know, like this puffed-up eunuch and the world's oldest squire. Take a lesson from Pyat Pree and Xaro Xhoan Daxos.\"\n\nHe means well, Dany reminded herself. He does all he does for love. \"It seems tome that a queen who trusts no one is as foolish as a queen who trusts everyone. Every man I take into my service is a risk, I understand that, but how am Ito win the Seven Kingdoms without such risks? Am Ito conquer Westeros with one exile knight and three Dothraki bloodriders?\"\n\nHis jaw set stubbornly. \"Your path is dangerous, I will not deny that. But if you blindly trust in every liar and schemer who crosses it, you will end as your brothers did.\"\n\nHis obstinacy made her angry. He treats me like some child. \"Strong Belwas could not scheme his way to breakfast. And what lies has Arstan Whitebeard told me?\"\n\n\"He is not what he pretends to be. He speaks to you more boldly than any squire would dare.\"\n\n\"He spoke frankly at my command. He knew my brother.\"\n\n\"A great many men knew your brother. Your Grace, in Westeros the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard sits on the small council, and serves the king with his wits as well as his steel. If I am the first of your Queensguard, I pray you, hear me out. I have a plan to put to you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What plan? Tell me.\"\n\n\"Illyrio Mopatis wants you back in Pentos, under his roof. Very well, go to him... but in your own time, and not alone. Let us see how loyal and obedient these new subjects of yours truly are. Command Groleo to change course for Slaver's Bay.\"\n\nDany was not certain she liked the sound of that at all. Everything she'd ever heard of the flesh marts in the great slave cities of Yunkai, Meereen, and Astapor was dire and frightening. \"What is therefor me in Slaver's Bay?\"\n\n\"An army,\" said Ser Jorah. \"If Strong Belwas is so much to your liking you can buy hundreds more like him out of the fighting pits of Meereen... but it is Astapor I'd set my sails for. In Astapor you can buy Unsullied.\"\n\n\"The slaves in the spiked bronze hats?\" Dany had seen Unsullied guards in the Free Cities, posted at the gates of magisters, archons, and dynasts. \"Why should I want Unsullied? They don't even ride horses, and most of them are fat.\"\n\n\"The Unsullied you may have seen in Pentos and Myr were household guards. That's soft service, and eunuchs tend to plumpness in any case. Food is the only vice allowed them. To judge all Unsullied by a few old household slaves is like judging all squires by Arstan Whitebeard, Your Grace. Do you know the tale of the Three Thousand of Qohor?\"\n\n\"No.\" The coverlet slipped off Dany's shoulder, and she tugged it back into place.\n\n\"It was four hundred years ago or more, when the Dothraki first rode out of the east, sacking and burning every town and city in their path. The khal who led them was named Temmo. His khalasar was not so big as Drogo's, but it was big enough. Fifty thousand, at the least. Half of them braided warriors with bells ringing in their hair."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Qohorik knew he was coming. They strengthened their walls, doubled the size of their own guard, and hired two free companies besides, the Bright Banners and the Second Sons. And almost as an afterthought, they sent a man to Astapor to buy three thousand Unsullied. It was along march back to Qohor, however, and as they approached they saw the smoke and dust and heard the distant din of battle.\n\n\"By the time the Unsullied reached the city the sun had set. Crows and wolves were feasting beneath the walls on what remained of the Qohorik heavy horse. The Bright Banners and Second Sons had fled, as sellswords are wont to do in the face of hopeless odds. With dark falling, the Dothraki had retired to their own camps to drink and dance and feast, but none doubted that they would return on the morrow to smash the city gates, storm the walls, and rape, loot, and slave as they pleased.\n\n\"But when dawn broke and Temmo and his bloodriders led their khalasar out of camp, they found three thousand Unsullied drawn up before the gates with the Black Goat standard flying over their heads. So small a force could easily have been flanked, but you know Dothraki. These were men on foot, and men on foot are fit only to be ridden down.\n\n\"The Dothraki charged. The Unsullied locked their shields, lowered their spears, and stood firm. Against twenty thousand screamers with bells in their hair, they stood firm.\n\n\"Eighteen times the Dothraki charged, and broke themselves on those shields and spears like waves on a rocky shore. Thrice Temmo sent his archers wheeling past and arrows fell like rain upon the Three Thousand, but the Unsullied merely lifted their shields above their heads until the squall had passed. In the end only six hundred of them remained... but more than twelve thousand Dothraki lay dead upon that field, including Khal Temmo, his bloodriders, his kos, and all his sons. On the morning of the fourth day, the new khal led the survivors past the city gates in a stately procession. One by one, each man cutoff his braid and threw it down before the feet of the Three Thousand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Since that day, the city guard of Qohor has been made up solely of Unsullied, everyone of whom carries a tall spear from which hangs a braid of human hair.\n\n\"That is what you will find in Astapor, Your Grace. Put ashore there, and continue onto Pentos overland. It will take longer, yes... but when you break bread with Magister Illyrio, you will have a thousand swords behind you, not just four.\"\n\nThere is wisdom in this, yes, Dany thought, but...\"How am Ito buy a thousand slave soldiers? All I have of value is the crown the Tourmaline Brotherhood gave me.\"\n\n\"Dragons will be as great a wonder in Astapor as they were in Qarth. It maybe that the slavers will shower you with gifts, as the Qartheen did. If not... these ships carry more than your Dothraki and their horses. They took on trade goods at Qarth, I've been through the holds and seen for myself. Bolts of silk and bales of tiger skin, amber and jade carvings, saffron, myrrh... slaves are cheap, Your Grace. Tiger skins are costly.\"\n\n\"Those are Illyrio 's tiger skins,\" she objected.\n\n\"And Illyrio is a friend to House Targaryen.\"\n\n\"All the more reason not to steal his goods.\"\n\n\"What use are wealthy friends if they will not put their wealth at your disposal, my queen? If Magister Illyrio would deny you, he is only Xaro Xhoan Daxos with four chins. And if he is sincere in his devotion to your cause, he will not begrudge you three shiploads of trade goods. What better use for his tiger skins than to buy you the beginnings of an army?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "That's true. Dany felt arising excitement. \"There will be dangers on such along march...\"\n\n\"There are dangers at sea as well. Corsairs and pirates hunt the southern route, and north of Valyria the Smoking Sea is demon-haunted. The next storm could sink or scatter us, a kraken could pull us under... or we might find ourselves becalmed again, and die of thirst as we wait for the wind to rise. A march will have different dangers, my queen, but none greater.\"\n\n\"What if Captain Groleo refuses to change course, though? And Arstan, Strong Belwas, what will they do?\"\n\nSer Jorah stood. \"Perhaps it's time you found that out.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she decided. \"I'll do it!\" Dany threw back the coverlets and hopped from the bunk. \"I'll seethe captain at once, command him to set course for Astapor.\" She bent over her chest, threw open the lid, and seized the first garment to hand, a pair of loose sandsilk trousers. \"Hand me my medallion belt,\" she commanded Jorah as she pulled the sandsilk up over her hips. \"And my vest-\" she started to say, turning.\n\nSer Jorah slid his arms around her.\n\n\"Oh,\" was all Dany had time to say as he pulled her close and pressed his lips down on hers. He smelled of sweat and salt and leather, and the iron studs on his jerkin dug into her naked breasts as he crushed her hard against him. One handheld her by the shoulder while the other slid down her spine to the small of her back, and her mouth opened for his tongue, though she never told it to. His beard is scratchy, she thought, but his mouth is sweet. The Dothraki wore no beards, only long mustaches, and only Khal Drogo had ever kissed her before. He should not be doing this. I am his queen, not his woman."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was along kiss, though how long Dany could not have said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When it ended, Ser Jorah let goof her, and she took a quickstep backward. \"You... you should not have...\"\n\n\"I should not have waited so long,\" he finished for her. \"I should have kissed you in Qarth, in Vaes Tolorru. I should have kissed you in the red waste, every night and everyday. You were made to be kissed, often and well.\" His eyes were on her breasts.\n\nDany covered them with her hands, before her nipples could betray her. \"I... that was not fitting. I am your queen.\"\n\n\"My queen,\" he said, \"and the bravest, sweetest, and most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Daenerys-\"\n\n\"Your Grace!\"\n\n\"Your Grace,\" he conceded, \"the dragon has three heads, remember? You have wondered at that, ever since you heard it from the warlocks in the House of Dust. Well, here's your meaning: Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar, ridden by Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya. The three-headed dragon of House Targaryen-three dragons, and three riders.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Dany, \"but my brothers are dead.\"\n\n\"Rhaenys and Visenya were Aegon's wives as well as his sisters. You have no brothers, but you can take husbands. And I tell you truly, Daenerys, there is no man in all the world who will ever behalf so true to you as me.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "BRAN\n\nThe ridge slanted sharply from the earth, along fold of stone and soil shaped like a claw. Trees clung to its lower slopes, pines and hawthorn and ash, but higher up the ground was bare, the ridgeline stark against the cloudy sky.\n\nHe could feel the high stone calling him. Up he went, loping easy at first, then faster and higher, his strong legs eating up the incline. Birds burst from the branches overhead as he raced by, clawing and flapping their way into the sky. He could hear the wind sighing up amongst the leaves, the squirrels chittering to one another, even the sound a pinecone made as it tumbled to the forest floor. The smells were a song around him, a song that filled the good green world.\n\nGravel flew from beneath his paws as he gained the last few feet to stand upon the crest. The sun hung above the tall pines huge and red, and below him the trees and hills went on and on as far as he could see or smell. A kite was circling far above, dark against the pink sky.\n\nPrince. The man-sound came into his head suddenly, yet he could feel the rightness of it. Prince of the green, prince of the wolfswood. He was strong and swift and fierce, and all that lived in the good green world went in fear of him.\n\nFar below, at the base of the woods, something moved amongst the trees. A flash of grey, quick-glimpsed and gone again, but it was enough to make his ears prick up. Down there beside a swift green brook, another form slipped by, running. Wolves, he knew. His little cousins, chasing down some prey. Now the prince could see more of them, shadows on fleet grey paws. A pack."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had a pack as well, once. Five they had been, and a sixth who stood aside. Somewhere down inside him were the sounds the men had given them to tell one from the other, but it was not by their sounds he knew them. He remembered their scents, his brothers and his sisters. They all had smelled alike, had smelled of pack, but each was different too.\n\nHis angry brother with the hot green eyes was near, the prince felt, though he had not seen him for many hunts. Yet with every sun that set he grew more distant, and he had been the last. The others were far scattered, like leaves blown by the wild wind.\n\nSometimes he could sense them, though, as if they were still with him, only hidden from his sight by a boulder or a stand of trees. He could not smell them, nor hear their howls by night, yet he felt their presence at his back... all but the sister they had lost. His tail drooped when he remembered her. Four now, not five. Four and one more, the white who has no voice.\n\nThese woods belonged to them, the snowy slopes and stony hills, the great green pines and the golden leaf oaks, the rushing streams and blue lakes fringed with fingers of white frost. But his sister had left the wilds, to walk in the halls of man-rock where other hunters ruled, and once within those halls it was hard to find the path back out. The wolf prince remembered.\n\nThe wind shifted suddenly.\n\nDeer, and fear, and blood. The scent of prey woke the hunger in him. The prince sniffed the air again, turning, and then he was off, bounding along the ridgetop with jaws half-parted. The far side of the ridge was steeper than the one he'd come up, but he flew surefoot over stones and roots and rotting leaves, down the slope and through the trees, long strides eating up the ground. The scent pulled him onward, ever faster."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The deer was down and dying when he reached her, ringed by eight of his small grey cousins. The heads of the pack had begun to feed, the male first and then his female, taking turns tearing flesh from the red underbelly of their prey. The others waited patiently, all but the tail, who paced in a wary circle a few strides from the rest, his own tail tucked low. He would eat the last of all, whatever his brothers left him.\n\nThe prince was downwind, so they did not sense him until he leapt up upon a fallen log six strides from where they fed. The tail saw him first, gave a piteous whine, and slunk away. His pack brothers turned at the sound and bared their teeth, snarling, all but the head male and female.\n\nThe direwolf answered the snarls with a low warning growl and showed them his own teeth. He was bigger than his cousins, twice the size of the scrawny tail, half again as large as the two pack heads. He leapt down into their midst, and three of them broke, melting away into the brush. Another came at him, teeth snapping. He met the attack head on, caught the wolf's leg in his jaws when they met, and flung him aside yelping and limping.\n\nAnd then there was only the head wolf to face, the great grey male with his bloody muzzle fresh from the prey's soft belly. There was white on his muzzle as well, to mark him as an old wolf, but when his mouth opened, red slaver ran from his teeth.\n\nHe has no fear, the prince thought, no more than me. It would be a good fight. They went for each other.\n\nLong they fought, rolling together over roots and stones and fallen leaves and the scattered entrails of the prey, tearing at each other with tooth and claw, breaking apart, circling each round the other, and bolting into fight again. The prince was larger, and much the stronger, but his cousin had a pack. The female prowled around them closely, snuffing and snarling, and would interpose herself whenever her mate broke off bloodied. From time to time the other wolves would dart in as well, to snap at a leg or an ear when the prince was turned the other way. One angered him so much that he whirled in a black fury and tore out the attacker's throat. After that the others kept their distance."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And as the last red light was filtering through green boughs and golden, the old wolf lay down weary in the dirt, and rolled over to expose his throat and belly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was submission.\n\nThe prince sniffed at him and licked the blood from fur and torn flesh. When the old wolf gave a soft whimper, the direwolf turned away. He was very hungry now, and the prey was his.\n\n\"Hodor.\"\n\nThe sudden sound made him stop and snarl. The wolves regarded him with green and yellow eyes, bright with the last light of day. None of them had heard it. It was a queer wind that blew only in his ears. He buried his jaws in the deer's belly and tore off a mouthful of flesh.\n\n\"Hodor, hodor.\"\n\nNo, he thought. No, I won't. It was a boy's thought, not a direwolf's. The woods were darkening all about him, until only the shadows of the trees remained, and the glow of his cousins\" eyes. And through those and behind those eyes, he saw a big man's grinning face, and a stone vault whose walls were spotted with niter. The rich warm taste of blood faded on his tongue. No, don't, don't, I want to eat, I want to, I want...\n\n\"Hodor, hodor, hodor, hodor, hodor,\" Hodor chanted as he shook him softly by the shoulders, back and forth and back and forth. He was trying to be gentle, he always tried, but Hodor was seven feet tall and stronger than he knew, and his huge hands rattled Bran's teeth together. \"NO!\" he shouted angrily. \"Hodor, leave off, I'm here, I'm here.\"\n\nHodor stopped, looking abashed. \"Hodor?\"\n\nThe woods and wolves were gone. Bran was back again, down in the damp vault of some ancient watchtower that must have been abandoned thousands of years before. It wasn't much of a tower now. Even the tumbled stones were so overgrown with moss and ivy that you could hardly see them until you were right on top of them. \"Tumbledown Tower,\" Bran had named the place; it was Meera who found the way down into the vault, however."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You were gone too long.\" Jojen Reed was thirteen, only four years older than Bran. Jojen wasn't much bigger either, no more than two inches or maybe three, but he had a solemn way of talking that made him seem older and wiser than he really was. At Winterfell, Old Nan had dubbed him'little grandfather.\"\n\nBran frowned at him. \"I wanted to eat.\"\n\n\"Meera will be back soon with supper.\"\n\n\"I'm sick of frogs.\" Meera was a frogeater from the Neck, so Bran couldn't really blame her for catching so many frogs, he supposed, but even so...\"I wanted to eat the deer.\" Fora moment he remembered the taste of it, the blood and the raw rich meat, and his mouth watered. I won the fight for it. I won.\n\n\"Did you mark the trees?\"\n\nBran flushed. Jojen was always telling him to do things when he opened his third eye and put on Summer's skin. To claw the bark of a tree, to catch a rabbit and bring it back in his jaws uneaten, to push some rocks in a line. Stupid things. \"I forgot,\" he said.\n\n\"You always forget.\"\n\nIt was true. He meant to do the things that Jojen asked, but once he was a wolf they never seemed important. There were always things to see and things to smell, a whole green world to hunt. And he could run! There was nothing better than running, unless it was running after prey. \"I was a prince, Jojen,\" he told the older boy. \"I was the prince of the woods.\"\n\n\"You area prince,\" Jojen reminded him softly. \"You remember, don't you? Tell me who you are.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You know.\" Jojen was his friend and his teacher, but sometimes Bran just wanted to hit him.\n\n\"I want you to say the words. Tell me who you are.\"\n\n\"Bran,\" he said sullenly. Bran the Broken. \"Brandon Stark.\" The cripple boy. \"The Prince of Winterfell.\" Of Winterfell burned and tumbled, its people scattered and slain. The glass gardens were smashed, and hot water gushed from the cracked walls to steam beneath the sun. How can you be the prince of someplace you might never see again?\n\n\"And who is Summer?\" Jojen prompted.\n\n\"My direwolf.\" He smiled. \"Prince of the green.\"\n\n\"Bran the boy and Summer the wolf. You are two, then?\"\n\n\"Two,\" he sighed, \"and one.\" He hated Jojen when he got stupid like this. At Winterfell he wanted me to dream my wolf dreams, and now that I know how he's always calling me back.\n\n\"Remember that, Bran. Remember yourself, or the wolf will consume you. When you join, it is not enough to run and hunt and howl in Summer's skin.\"\n\nIt is for me, Bran thought. He liked Summer's skin better than his own. What good is it to be a skinchanger if you can't wear the skin you like?\n\n\"Will you remember? And next time, mark the tree. Any tree, it doesn't matter, so long as you do it.\"\n\n\"I will. I'll remember. I could go back and do it now, if you like. I won't forget this time.\" But I'll eat my deer first, and fight with those little wolves some more.\n\nJojen shook his head. \"No. Best stay, and eat. With your own mouth. A warg cannot live on what his beast consumes.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "How would you know? Bran thought resentfully. You've never been a warg, you don't know what it's like.\n\nHodor jerked suddenly to his feet, almost hitting his head on the barrel-vaulted ceiling. \"HODOR!\" he shouted, rushing to the door. Meera pushed it open just before he reached it, and stepped through into their refuge. \"Hodor, hodor,\" the huge stableboy said, grinning.\n\nMeera Reed was sixteen, a woman grown, but she stood no higher than her brother. All the crannogmen were small, she told Bran once when he asked why she wasn't taller. Brown-haired, green-eyed, and flat as a boy, she walked with a supple grace that Bran could only watch and envy. Meera wore along sharp dagger, but her favorite way to fight was with a slender three-pronged frog spear in one hand and a woven net in the other.\n\n\"Who's hungry?\" she asked, holding up her catch: two small silvery trout and six fat green frogs.\n\n\"I am,\" said Bran. But not for frogs. Back at Winterfell before all the bad things had happened, the Walders used to say that eating frogs would turn your teeth green and make moss grow under your arms. He wondered if the Walders were dead. He hadn't seen their corpses at Winterfell... but there had been a lot of corpses, and they hadn't looked inside the buildings.\n\n\"We'll just have to feed you, then. Will you help me clean the catch, Bran?\"\n\nHe nodded. It was hard to sulk with Meera. She was much more cheerful than her brother, and always seemed to know how to make him smile. Nothing ever scared her or made her angry. Well, except Jojen, sometimes... Jojen Reed could scare most anyone. He dressed all in green, his eyes were murky as moss, and he had green dreams. What Jojen dreamed came true. Except he dreamed me dead, and I'm not. Only he was, in away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jojen sent Hodor out for wood and built them a small fire while Bran and Meera were cleaning the fish and frogs. They used Meera's helm fora cooking pot, chopping up the catch into little cubes and tossing in some water and some wild onions Hodor had found to make a froggy stew. It wasn't as good as deer, but it wasn't bad either, Bran decided as he ate. \"Thank you, Meera,\" he said. \"My lady.\"\n\n\"You are most welcome, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Come the morrow,\" Jojen announced, \"we had best move on.\"\n\nBran could see Meera tense. \"Have you had a green dream?\"\n\n\"No,\" he admitted.\n\n\"Why leave, then?\" his sister demanded. \"Tumbledown Tower's a good place for us. No villages near, the woods are full of game, there's fish and frogs in the streams and lakes... and who is ever going to find us here?\"\n\n\"This is not the place we are meant to be.\"\n\n\"It is safe, though.\"\n\n\"It seems safe, I know,\" said Jojen, \"but for how long? There was a battle at Winterfell, we saw the dead. Battles mean wars. If some army should take us unawares...\"\n\n\"It might be Robb's army,\" said Bran. \"Robb will comeback from the south soon, I know he will. He'll comeback with all his banners and chase the ironmen away.\"\n\n\"Your maester said naught of Robb when he lay dying,\" Jojen reminded him. \"Ironmen on the Stony Shore, he said, and, east, the Bastard of Bolton. Moat Cailin and Deepwood Motte fallen, the heir to Cerwyn dead, and the castellan of Torrhen's Square. War everywhere, he said, each man against his neighbor.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We have plowed this field before,\" his sister said. \"You want to make for the Wall, and your three-eyed crow. That's well and good, but the Wallis a very long way and Bran has no legs but Hodor. If we were mounted...\"\n\n\"If we were eagles we might fly,\" said Jojen sharply, \"but we have no wings, no more than we have horses.\"\n\n\"There are horses to be had,\" said Meera. \"Even in the deep of the wolfswood there are foresters, crofters, hunters. Some will have horses.\"\n\n\"And if they do, should we steal them? Are we thieves? The last thing we need is men hunting us.\"\n\n\"We could buy them,\" she said. \"Trade for them.\"\n\n\"Look at us, Meera. A crippled boy with a direwolf, a simpleminded giant, and two crannogmen a thousand leagues from the Neck. We will be known. And word will spread. So long as Bran remains dead, he is safe. Alive, he becomes prey for those who want him dead for good and true.\" Jojen went to the fire to prod the embers with a stick. \"Somewhere to the north, the three-eyed crow awaits us. Bran has need of a teacher wiser than me.\"\n\n\"How, Jojen?\" his sister asked. \"How?\"\n\n\"Afoot,\" he answered. \"A step at a time.\"\n\n\"The road from Greywater to Winterfell went on forever, and we were mounted then. You want us to travel a longer road on foot, without even knowing where it ends. Beyond the Wall, you say. I haven't been there, no more than you, but I know that Beyond the Wall's a big place, Jojen. Are there many three-eyed crows, or only one? How do we find him?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perhaps he will find us.\"\n\nBefore Meera could find a reply to that, they heard the sound; the distant howl of a wolf, drifting through the night. \"Summer?\" asked Jojen, listening.\n\n\"No.\" Bran knew the voice of his direwolf.\n\n\"Are you certain?\" said the little grandfather.\n\n\"Certain.\" Summer had wandered far afield today, and would not be back till dawn. Maybe Jojen dreams green, but he can't tell a wolf from a direwolf. He wondered why they all listened to Jojen so much. He was not a prince like Bran, nor big and strong like Hodor, nor as good a hunter as Meera, yet somehow it was always Jojen telling them what to do. \"We should steal horses like Meera wants,\" Bran said, \"and ride to the Umbers up at Last Hearth.\" He thought a moment. \"Or we could steal a boat and sail down the White Knife to White Harbor town. That fat Lord Manderly rules there, he was friendly at the harvest feast. He wanted to build ships. Maybe he built some, and we could sail to Riverrun and bring Robb home with all his army. Then it wouldn't matter who knew I was alive. Robb wouldn't let anyone hurt us.\"\n\n\"Hodor!\" burped Hodor. \"Hodor, hodor.\"\n\nHe was the only one who liked Bran's plan, though. Meera just smiled at him and Jojen frowned. They never listened to what he wanted, even though Bran was a Stark and a prince besides, and the Reeds of the Neck were Stark bannermen.\n\n\"Hoooodor,\" said Hodor, swaying. \"Hooooooodor, hoooooodor, hoDOR, hoDOR, hoDOR.\" Sometimes he liked to do this, just saying his name different ways, over and over and over. Other times, he would stay so quiet you forgot he was there. There was never any knowing with Hodor. \"HODOR, HODOR, HODOR!\" he shouted."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He is not going to stop, Bran realized. \"Hodor,\" he said, \"why don't you go outside and train with your sword?\"\n\nThe stableboy had forgotten about his sword, but now he remembered. \"Hodor!\" he burped. He went for his blade. They had three tomb swords taken from the crypts of Winterfell where Bran and his brother Rickon had hidden from Theon Greyjoy's ironmen. Bran claimed his uncle Brandon's sword, Meera the one she found upon the knees of his grandfather Lord Rickard. Hodor's blade was much older, a huge heavy piece of iron, dull from centuries of neglect and well spotted with rust. He could swing it for hours at a time. There was a rotted tree near the tumbled stones that he had hacked half to pieces.\n\nEven when he went outside they could hear him through the walls, bellowing'HODOR!\" as he cut and slashed at his tree. Thankfully the wolfswood was huge, and there was not like to be anyone else around to hear.\n\n\"Jojen, what did you mean about a teacher?\" Bran asked. \"You're my teacher. I know I never marked the tree, but I will the next time. My third eye is open like you wanted...\"\n\n\"So wide open that I fear you may fall through it, and live all the rest of your days as a wolf of the woods.\"\n\n\"I won't, I promise.\"\n\n\"The boy promises. Will the wolf remember? You run with Summer, you hunt with him, kill with him... but you bend to his will more than him to yours.\"\n\n\"I just forget,\" Bran complained. \"I'm only nine. I'll be better when I'm older. Even Florian the Fool and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight weren't great knights when they were nine.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That is true,\" said Jojen, \"and a wise thing to say, if the days were still growing longer... but they aren't. You area summer child, I know. Tell me the words of House Stark.\"\n\n\"Winter is coming.\" Just saying it made Bran feel cold.\n\nJojen gave a solemn nod. \"I dreamed of a winged wolf bound to earth by chains of stone, and came to Winterfell to free him. The chains are off you now, yet still you do not fly.\"\n\n\"Then you teach me.\" Bran still feared the three-eyed crow who haunted his dreams sometimes, pecking endlessly at the skin between his eyes and telling him to fly. \"You're a greenseer.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jojen, \" only a boy who dreams. The greenseers were more than that. They were wargs as well, as you are, and the greatest of them could wear the skins of any beast that flies or swims or crawls, and could look through the eyes of the weirwoods as well, and seethe truth that lies beneath the world.\n\n\"The gods give many gifts, Bran. My sister is a hunter. It is given to her to run swiftly, and stand so still she seems to vanish. She has sharp ears, keen eyes, a steady hand with net and spear. She can breathe mud and fly through trees. I could not do these things, no more than you could. Tome the gods gave the green dreams, and to you... you could be more than me, Bran. You are the winged wolf, and there is no saying how far and high you might fly... if you had someone to teach you. How can I help you master a gift I do not understand? We remember the First Men in the Neck, and the children of the forest who were their friends... but so much is forgotten, and so much we never knew.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Meera took Bran by the hand. \"If we stay here, troubling no one, you'll be safe until the war ends. You will not learn, though, except what my brother can teach you, and you've heard what he says. If we leave this place to seek refuge at Last Hearth or beyond the Wall, we risk being taken. You are only a boy, I know, but you are our prince as well, our lord's son and our king's true heir. We have sworn you our faith by earth and water, bronze andiron, ice and fire. The risk is yours, Bran, as is the gift. The choice should be yours too, I think. We are your servants to command.\" She grinned. \"At least in this.\"\n\n\"You mean,\" Bran said, \"you'll do what I say? Truly?\"\n\n\"Truly, my prince,\" the girl replied, \"so consider well.\"\n\nBran tried to think it through, the way his father might have. The Greatjon's uncles Hother Whoresbane and Mors Crowfood were fierce men, but he thought they would be loyal. And the Karstarks, them too. Karhold was a strong castle, Father always said. We would be safe with the Umbers or the Karstarks.\n\nOr they could go south to fat Lord Manderly. At Winterfell, he'd laughed a lot, and never seemed to look at Bran with so much pity as the other lords. Castle Cerwyn was closer than White Harbor, but Maester Luwin had said that Cley Cerwyn was dead. The Umbers and the Karstarks and the Manderlys may all be dead as well, he realized. Ashe would be, if he was caught by the ironmen or the Bastard of Bolton."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If they stayed here, hidden down beneath Tumbledown Tower, no one would find them. He would stay alive. And crippled.\n\nBran realized he was crying. Stupid baby, he thought at himself. No matter where he went, to Karhold or White Harbor or Greywater Watch, he'd be a cripple when he got there. He balled his hands into fists. \"I want to fly,\" he told them. \"Please. Take me to the crow.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "DAVOS\n\nWhen he came upon deck, the long point of Driftmark was dwindling behind them while Dragonstone rose from the sea ahead. A pale grey wisp of smoke blew from the top of the mountain to mark where the island lay. Dragonmont is restless this morning, Davos thought, or else Melisandre is burning someone else.\n\nMelisandre had been much in his thoughts as Shayala's Dance made her way across Blackwater Bay and through the Gullet, tacking against perverse contrary winds. The great fire that burned atop the Sharp Point watchtower at the end of Massey's Hook reminded him of the ruby she wore at her throat, and when the world turned red at dawn and sunset the drifting clouds turned the same color as the silks and satins of her rustling gowns.\n\nShe would be waiting on Dragonstone as well, waiting in all her beauty and all her power, with her god and her shadows and his king. The red priestess had always seemed loyal to Stannis, until now. She has broken him, as a man breaks a horse. She would ride him to power if she could, and for that she gave my sons to the fire. I will cut the living heart from her breast and see how it burns. He touched the hilt of the fine long Lysene dirk that the captain had given him.\n\nThe captain had been very kind to him. His name was Khorane Sathmantes, a Lyseni like Salladhor Saan, whose ship this was. He had the pale blue eyes you often saw on Lys, set in a bony weatherworn face, but he had spent many years trading in the Seven Kingdoms. When he learned that the man he had plucked from the sea was the celebrated onion knight, he gave him the use of his own cabin and his own clothes, and a pair of new boots that almost fit. He insisted that Davos share his provisions as well, though that turned out badly. His stomach could not tolerate the snails and lampreys and other rich food Captain Khorane so relished, and after his first meal at the captain's table he spent the rest of the day with one end or the other dangling over the rail."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dragonstone loomed larger with every stroke of the oars. Davos could seethe shape of the mountain now, and on its side the great black citadel with its gargoyles and dragon towers. The bronze figurehead at the bow of Shayala's Dance sent up wings of salt spray as it cut the waves. He leaned his weight against the rail, grateful for its support. His ordeal had weakened him. If he stood too long his legs shook, and sometimes he fell prey to uncontrollable fits of coughing and brought up gobs of bloody phlegm. It is nothing, he told himself. Surely the gods did not bring me safe through fire and sea only to kill me with a flux.\n\nAshe listened to the pounding of the oarmaster's drum, the thrum of the sail, and the rhythmic swish and creak of the oars, he thought back to his younger days, when these same sounds woke dread in his heart on many a misty morn. They heralded the approach of old Ser Tristimun's sea watch, and the sea watch was death to smugglers when Aerys Targaryen sat the Iron Throne.\n\nBut that was another lifetime, he thought. That was before the onion ship, before Storm's End, before Stannis shortened my fingers. That was before the war or the red comet, before I was a Seaworth or a knight. I was a different man in those days, before Lord Stannis raised me high.\n\nCaptain Khorane had told him of the end of Stannis's hopes, on the night the river burned. The Lannisters had taken him from the flank, and his fickle bannermen had abandoned him by the hundreds in the hour of his greatest need. \"King Renly's shade was seen as well,\" the captain said, \"slaying right and left as he led the lion lord's van. It's said his green armor took a ghostly glow from the wildfire, and his antlers ran with golden flames.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Renly's shade. Davos wondered if his sons would return as shades as well. He had seen too many queer things on the sea to say that ghosts did not exist. \"Did none keep faith?\" he asked.\n\n\"Some few,\" the captain said. \"The queen's kin, them in chief. We took off many who wore the fox-and-flowers, though many more were left ashore, with all manner of badges. Lord Florent is the King's Hand on Dragonstone now.\"\n\nThe mountain grew taller, crowned all in pale smoke. The sail sang, the drumbeat, the oars pulled smoothly, and before very long the mouth of the harbor opened before them. So empty, Davos thought, remembering how it had been before, with the ships crowding every quay and rocking at anchor off the breakwater. He could see Salladhor Saan's flagship Valyrian moored at the quay where Fury and her sisters had once tied up. The ships on either side of her had striped Lysene hulls as well. In vain he looked for any sign of Lady Marya or Wraith.\n\nThey pulled down the sail as they entered the harbor, to dock on oars alone. The captain came to Davos as they were tying up. \"My prince will wish to see you at once.\"\n\nA fit of coughing seized Davos as he tried to answer. He clutched the rail for support and spat over the side. \"The king,\" he wheezed. \"I must go to the king.\" For where the king is, I will find Melisandre.\n\n\"No one goes to the king,\" Khorane Sathmantes replied firmly. \"Salladhor Saan will tell you. Him first.\"\n\nDavos was too weak to defy him. He could only nod."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Salladhor Saan was not aboard his Valyrian. They found him at another quay a quarter mile distant, down in the hold of a big-bellied Pentoshi cog named Bountiful Harvest, counting cargo with two eunuchs. One held a lantern, the other a wax tablet and stylus. \"Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine,\" the old rogue was saying when Davos and the captain came down the hatch. Today he wore a wine-colored tunic and high boots of bleached white leather inlaid with silver scrollwork. Pulling the stopper from ajar, he sniffed, sneezed, and said, \"A coarse grind, and of the second quality, my nose declares. The bill of lading is saying forty-three jars. Where have the others gotten to, I am wondering? These Pentoshi, do they think I am not counting?\" When he saw Davos he stopped suddenly. \"Is it pepper stinging my eyes, or tears? Is this the knight of the onions who stands before me? No, how can it be, my dear friend Davos died on the burning river, all agree. Why has he come to haunt me?\"\n\n\"I am no ghost, Salla.\"\n\n\"What else? My onion knight was never so thin or so pale as you.\" Salladhor Saan threaded his way between the jars of spice and bolts of cloth that filled the hold of the merchanter, wrapped Davos in a fierce embrace, then kissed him once on each cheek and a third time on his forehead. \"You are still warm, ser, and I feel your heart thumpety-thumping. Can it be true? The sea that swallowed you has spit you up again.\"\n\nDavos was reminded of Patchface, Princess Shireen's lackwit fool. He had gone into the sea as well, and when he came out he was mad. Am I mad as well? He coughed into a gloved hand and said, \"I swam beneath the chain and washed ashore on a spear of the merling king. I would have died there, if Shayala's Dance had not come upon me.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Salladhor Saan threw an arm around the captain's shoulders. \"This was well done, Khorane. You will behaving a fine reward, I am thinking. Meizo Mahr, be a good eunuch and take my friend Davos to the owner's cabin. Fetch him some hot wine with cloves, I am misliking the sound of that cough. Squeeze some lime in it as well. And bring white cheese and a bowl of those cracked green olives we counted earlier! Davos, I will join you soon, once I have bespoken our good captain. You will be forgiving me, I know. Do not eat all the olives, or I must be cross with you!\"\n\nDavos let the elder of the two eunuchs escort him to a large and lavishly furnished cabin at the stern of the ship. The carpets were deep, the windows stained glass, and any of the great leather chairs would have seated three of Davos quite comfortably. The cheese and olives arrived shortly, and a cup of steaming hot red wine. He held it between his hands and sipped it gratefully. The warmth felt soothing as it spread through his chest.\n\nSalladhor Saan appeared not long after. \"You must be forgiving me for the wine, my friend. These Pentoshi would drink their own water if it were purple.\"\n\n\"It will help my chest,\" said Davos. \"Hot wine is better than a compress, my mother used to say.\"\n\n\"You shall be needing compresses as well, I am thinking. Sitting on a spear all this longtime, oh my. How are you finding that excellent chair? He has fat cheeks, does he not?\"\n\n\"Who?\" asked Davos, between sips of hot wine."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Illyrio Mopatis. A whale with whiskers, I am telling you truly. These chairs were built to his measure, though he is seldom bestirring himself from Pentos to sit in them. A fat man always sits comfortably, I am thinking, for he takes his pillow with him wherever he goes.\"\n\n\"How is it you come by a Pentoshi ship?\" asked Davos. \"Have you gone pirate again, my lord?\" He set his empty cup aside.\n\n\"Vile calumny. Who has suffered more from pirates than Salladhor Saan? I ask only what is due me. Much gold is owed, oh yes, but I am not without reason, so in place of coin I have taken a handsome parchment, very crisp. It bears the name and seal of Lord Alester Florent, the Hand of the King. I am made Lord of Blackwater Bay, and no vessel maybe crossing my lordly waters without my lordly leave, no. And when these outlaws are trying to steal past me in the night to avoid my lawful duties and customs, why, they are no better than smugglers, so I am well within my rights to seize them.\" The old pirate laughed. \"I cutoff no man's fingers, though. What good are bits of fingers? The ships I am taking, the cargoes, a few ransoms, nothing unreasonable.\" He gave Davos a sharp look. \"You are unwell, my friend. That cough... and so thin, I am seeing your bones through your skin. And yet I am not seeing your little bag of fingerbones...\"\n\nOld habit made Davos reach for the leather pouch that was no longer there. \"I lost it in the river.\" My luck.\n\n\"The river was terrible,\" Salladhor Saan said solemnly. \"Even from the bay, I was seeing, and shuddering.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Davos coughed, spat, and coughed again. \"I saw Black Betha burning, and Fury as well,\" he finally managed, hoarsely. \"Did none of our ships escape the fire?\" Part of him still hoped.\n\n\"Lord Steffon, Ragged Jenna, Swift Sword, Laughing Lord, and some others were upstream of the pyromancers' pissing, yes. They did not burn, but with the chain raised, neither could they be flying. Some few were surrendering. Most rowed far up the Blackwater, away from the battling, and then were sunk by their crews so they would not befalling into Lannister hands. Ragged Jenna and Laughing Lord are still playing pirate on the river, I have heard, but who can say if it is so?\"\n\n\"Lady Marya?\" Davos asked. \"Wraith?\"\n\nSalladhor Saan put a hand on Davos's forearm and gave a squeeze. \"No. Of them, no. I am sorry, my friend. They were good men, your Dale and Allard. But this comfort I can give you-your young Devan was among those we took off at the end. The brave boy never once left the king's side, or so they say.\"\n\nFora moment he felt almost dizzy, his relief was so palpable. He had been afraid to ask about Devan. \"The Mother is merciful. I must go to him, Salla. I must see him.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Salladhor Saan. \"And you will be wanting to sail to Cape Wrath, I know, to see your wife and your two little ones. You must behaving anew ship, I am thinking.\"\n\n\"His Grace will give me a ship,\" said Davos."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Lyseni shook his head. \"Of ships, His Grace has none, and Salladhor Saan has many. The king's ships burned upon the river, but not mine. You shall have one, old friend. You will sail for me, yes? You will dance into Braavos and Myr and Volantis in the black of night, all unseen, and dance out again with silks and spices. We will behaving fat purses, yes.\"\n\n\"You are kind, Salla, but my duty's to my king, not your purse. The war will goon. Stannis is still the rightful heir by all the laws of the Seven Kingdoms.\"\n\n\"All the laws are not helping when all the ships burn up, I am thinking. And your king, well, you will be finding him changed, I am fearing. Since the battle, he sees no one, but broods in his Stone Drum. Queen Selyse keeps court for him with her uncle the Lord Alester, who is naming himself the Hand. The king's seal she has given to this uncle, to fix to the letters he writes, even to my pretty parchment. But it is a little kingdom they are ruling, poor and rocky, yes. There is no gold, not even a little bit to pay faithful Salladhor Saan what is owed him, and only those knights that we took off at the end, and no ships but my little brave few.\"\n\nA sudden racking cough bent Davos over. Salladhor Saan moved to help him, but he waved him off, and after a moment he recovered. \"No one?\" he wheezed. \"What do you mean, he sees no one?\" His voice sounded wet and thick, even in his own ears, and fora moment the cabin swam dizzily around him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No one but her,\" said Salladhor Saan, and Davos did not have to ask who he meant."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My friend, you tire yourself. It is abed you are needing, not Salladhor Saan. Abed and many blankets, with a hot compress for your chest and more wine and cloves.\"\n\nDavos shook his head. \"I will be fine. Tell me, Salla, I must know. No one but Melisandre?\"\n\nThe Lyseni gave him along doubtful look, and continued reluctantly. \"The guards keep all others away, even his queen and his little daughter. Servants bring meals that no one eats.\" He leaned forward and lowered his voice. \"Queer talking I have heard, of hungry fires within the mountain, and how Stannis and the red woman go down together to watch the flames. There are shafts, they say, and secret stairs down into the mountain's heart, into hot places where only she may walk unburned. It is enough and more to give an old man such terrors that sometimes he can scarcely find the strength to eat.\"\n\nMelisandre. Davos shivered. \"The red woman did this to him,\" he said. \"She sent the fire to consume us, to punish Stannis for setting her aside, to teach him that he could not hope to win without her sorceries.\"\n\nThe Lyseni chose a plump olive from the bowl between them. \"You are not the first to be saying this, my friend. But if I am you, I am not saying it so loudly. Dragonstone crawls with these queen's men, oh yes, and they have sharp ears and sharper knives.\" He popped the olive into his mouth.\n\n\"I have a knife myself. Captain Khorane made me a gift of it.\" He pulled out the dirk and laid it on the table between them. \"A knife to cutout Melisandre's heart. If she has one.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Salladhor Saan spit out an olive pit. \"Davos, good Davos, you must not be saying such things, even in jest.\"\n\n\"No jest. I mean to kill her.\" If she can be killed by mortal weapons. Davos was not certain that she could. He had seen old Maester Cressen slip poison into her wine, with his own eyes he had seen it, but when they both drank from the poisoned cup it was the maester who died, not the red priestess. A knife in the heart, though... even demons can be killed by cold iron, the singers say.\n\n\"These are dangerous talkings, my friend,\" Salladhor Saan warned him. \"I am thinking you are still sick from the sea. The fever has cooked your wits, yes. Best you are taking to your bed fora long resting, until you are stronger.\"\n\nUntil my resolve weakens, you mean. Davos got to his feet. He did feel feverish and a little dizzy, but it did not matter. \"You area treacherous old rogue, Salladhor Saan, but a good friend all the same.\"\n\nThe Lyseni stroked his pointed silver beard. \"So with this great friend you will be staying, yes?\"\n\n\"No, I will be going.\" He coughed.\n\n\"Go? Look at you! You cough, you tremble, you are thin and weak. Where will you be going?\"\n\n\"To the castle. My bed is there, and my son.\"\n\n\"And the red woman,\" Salladhor Saan said suspiciously. \"She is in the castle also.\"\n\n\"Her too.\" Davos slid the dirk back into its sheath."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are an onion smuggler, what do you know of skulkings and stabbings? And you are ill, you cannot even hold the dirk. Do you know what will be happening to you, if you are caught? While we were burning on the river, the queen was burning traitors. Servants of the dark, she named them, poor men, and the red woman sang as the fires were lit.\"\n\nDavos was unsurprised. I knew, he thought, I knew before he told me. \"She took Lord Sunglass from the dungeons,\" he guessed, \"and Hubard Rambton's sons.\"\n\n\"Just so, and burned them, as she will burn you. If you kill the red woman, they will burn you for revenge, and if you fail to kill her, they will burn you for the trying. She will sing and you will scream, and then you will die. And you have only just comeback to life!\"\n\n\"And this is why,\" said Davos. \"To do this thing. To make an end of Melisandre of Asshai and all her works. Why else would the sea have spit me out? You know Blackwater Bay as well as I do, Salla. No sensible captain would ever take his ship through the spears of the merling king and risk ripping out his bottom. Shayala's Dance should never have come near me.\"\n\n\"A wind,\" insisted Salladhor Saan loudly, \"an ill wind, is all. A wind drove her too far to the south.\"\n\n\"And who sent the wind? Salla, the Mother spoke tome.\"\n\nThe old Lyseni blinked at him. \"Your mother is dead...\"\n\n\"The Mother. She blessed me with seven sons, and yet I let them burn her. She spoke tome. We called the fire, she said. We called the shadows too. I rowed Melisandre into the bowels of Storm's End and watched her birth a horror.\" He saw it still in his nightmares, the gaunt black hands pushing against her thighs as it wriggled free of her swollen womb. \"She killed Cressen and Lord Renly and a brave man named Cortnay Penrose, and she killed my sons as well. Now it is time someone killed her.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Someone,\" said Salladhor Saan. \"Yes, just so, someone. But not you. You are weak as a child, and no warrior. Stay, I beg you, we will talk more and you will eat, and perhaps we will sail to Braavos and hire a Faceless Man to do this thing, yes? But you, no, you must sit and eat.\"\n\nHe is making this much harder, thought Davos wearily, and it was perishingly hard to begin with. \"I have vengeance in my belly, Salla. It leaves no room for food. Let me go now. For our friendship, wish me luck and let me go.\"\n\nSalladhor Saan pushed himself to his feet. \"You are no true friend, I am thinking. When you are dead, who will be bringing your ashes and bones back to your lady wife and telling her that she has lost a husband and four sons? Only sad old Salladhor Saan. But so be it, brave ser knight, go rushing to your grave. I will gather your bones in a sack and give them to the sons you leave behind, to wear in little bags around their necks.\" He waved an angry hand, with rings on every finger. \"Go, go, go, go, go.\"\n\nDavos did not want to leave like this. \"Salla-\"\n\n\"GO. Or stay, better, but if you are going, go.\"\n\nHe went.\n\nHis walk up from the Bountiful Harvest to the gates of Dragonstone was long and lonely. The dockside streets where soldiers and sailors and smallfolk had thronged were empty and deserted. Where once he had stepped around squealing pigs and naked children, rats scurried. His legs felt like pudding beneath him, and thrice the coughing racked him so badly that he had to stop and rest. No one came to help him, nor even peered through a window to see what was the matter. The windows were shuttered, the doors barred, and more than half the houses displayed some mark of mourning. Thousands sailed up the Blackwater Rush, and hundreds came back, Davos reflected. My sons did not die alone. May the Mother have mercy on them all."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he reached the castle gates, he found them shut as well. Davos pounded on the iron-studded wood with his fist. When there was no answer, he kicked at it, again and again. Finally a crossbowman appeared atop the barbican, peering down between two towering gargoyles. \"Who goes there?\"\n\nHe craned his head back and cupped his hands around his mouth. \"Ser Davos Seaworth, to see His Grace.\"\n\n\"Are you drunk? Go away and stop that pounding.\"\n\nSalladhor Saan had warned him. Davos tried a different tack. \"Send for my son, then. Devan, the king's squire.\"\n\nThe guard frowned. \"Who did you say you were?\"\n\n\"Davos,\" he shouted. \"The onion knight.\"\n\nThe head vanished, to return a moment later. \"Be off with you. The onion knight died on the river. His ship burned.\"\n\n\"His ship burned,\" Davos agreed, \"but he lived, and here he stands. Is Jate still captain of the gate?\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Jate Blackberry. He knows me well enough.\"\n\n\"I never heard of him. Most like he's dead.\"\n\n\"Lord Chyttering, then.\"\n\n\"That one I know. He burned on the Blackwater.\"\n\n\"Hookface Will? Hal the Hog?\"\n\n\"Dead and dead,\" the crossbowman said, but his face betrayed a sudden doubt. \"You wait there.\" He vanished again.\n\nDavos waited. Gone, all gone, he thought dully, remembering how fat Hal's white belly always showed beneath his grease-stained doublet, the long scar the fishhook had left across Will's face, the way Jate always doffed his cap at the women, be they five or fifty, highborn or low. Drowned or burned, with my sons and a thousand others, gone to make a king in hell."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Suddenly the crossbowman was back. \"Go round to the sally port and they'll admit you.\"\n\nDavos did as he was bid. The guards who ushered him inside were strangers to him. They carried spears, and on their breasts they wore the fox-and-flowers sigil of House Florent. They escorted him not to the Stone Drum, as he'd expected, but under the arch of the Dragon's Tail and down to Aegon's Garden. \"Wait here,\" their sergeant told him.\n\n\"Does His Grace know that I've returned?\" asked Davos.\n\n\"Bugger all if I know. Wait, I said.\" The man left, taking his spearmen with him.\n\nAegon's Garden had a pleasant piney smell to it, and tall dark trees rose on every side. There were wild roses as well, and towering thorny hedges, and a boggy spot where cranberries grew.\n\nWhy have they brought me here? Davos wondered.\n\nThen he heard a faint ringing of bells, and a child's giggle, and suddenly the fool Patchface popped from the bushes, shambling along as fast as he could go with the Princess Shireen hot on his heels. \"You comeback now,\" she was shouting after him. \"Patches, you comeback.\"\n\nWhen the fool saw Davos, he jerked to a sudden halt, the bells on his antlered tin helmet going ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling. Hopping from one foot to the other, he sang, \"Fool's blood, king's blood, blood on the maiden's thigh, but chains for the guests and chains for the bridegroom, aye aye aye.\" Shireen almost caught him then, but at the last instant he hopped over a patch of bracken and vanished among the trees. The princess was right behind him. The sight of them made Davos smile."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had turned to cough into his gloved hand when another small shape crashed out of the hedge and bowled right into him, knocking him off his feet.\n\nThe boy went down as well, but he was up again almost at once. \"What are you doing here?\" he demanded as he brushed himself off. Jet-black hair fell to his collar, and his eyes were a startling blue. \"You shouldn't get in my way when I'm running.\"\n\n\"No,\" Davos agreed. \"I shouldn't.\" Another fit of coughing seized him as he struggled to his knees.\n\n\"Are you unwell?\" The boy took him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. \"Should I summon the maester?\"\n\nDavos shook his head. \"A cough. It will pass.\"\n\nThe boy took him at his word. \"We were playing monsters and maidens,\" he explained. \"I was the monster. It's a childish game but my cousin likes it. Do you have a name?\"\n\n\"Ser Davos Seaworth.\"\n\nThe boy looked him up and down dubiously. \"Are you certain? You don't look very knightly.\"\n\n\"I am the knight of the onions, my lord.\"\n\nThe blue eyes blinked. \"The one with the black ship?\"\n\n\"You know that tale?\"\n\n\"You brought my uncle Stannis fish to eat before I was born, when Lord Tyrell had him under siege.\" The boy drew himself up tall. \"I am Edric Storm,\" he announced. \"King Robert's son.\"\n\n\"Of course you are.\" Davos had known that almost at once. The lad had the prominent ears of a Florent, but the hair, the eyes, the jaw, the cheekbones, those were all Baratheon."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did you know my father?\" Edric Storm demanded.\n\n\"I saw him many a time while calling on your uncle at court, but we never spoke.\"\n\n\"My father taught me to fight,\" the boy said proudly. \"He came to see me almost every year, and sometimes we trained together. On my last name day he sent me a warhammer just like his, only smaller. They made me leave it at Storm's End, though. Is it true my uncle Stannis cutoff your fingers?\"\n\n\"Only the last joint. I still have fingers, only shorter.\"\n\n\"Show me.\"\n\nDavos peeled his glove off. The boy studied his hand carefully. \"He did not shorten your thumb?\"\n\n\"No.\" Davos coughed. \"No, he left me that.\"\n\n\"He should not have chopped any of your fingers,\" the lad decided. \"That was ill done.\"\n\n\"I was a smuggler.\"\n\n\"Yes, but you smuggled him fish and onions.\"\n\n\"Lord Stannis knighted me for the onions, and took my fingers for the smuggling.\" He pulled his glove back on.\n\n\"My father would not have chopped your fingers.\"\n\n\"As you say, my lord.\" Robert was a different man than Stannis, true enough. The boy is like him. Aye, and like Renly as well. That thought made him anxious.\n\nThe boy was about to say something more when they heard steps. Davos turned. Ser Axell Florent was coming down the garden path with a dozen guards in quilted jerkins. On their breasts they wore the fiery heart of the Lord of Light. Queen's men, Davos thought. A cough came on him suddenly.\n\nSer Axell was short and muscular, with a barrel chest, thick arms, bandy legs, and hair growing from his ears. The queen's uncle, he had served as castellan of Dragonstone fora decade, and had always treated Davos courteously, knowing he enjoyed the favor of Lord Stannis. But there was neither courtesy nor warmth in his tone as he said, \"Ser Davos, and undrowned. How can that be?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Onions float, ser. Have you come to take me to the king?\"\n\n\"I have come to take you to the dungeon.\" Ser Axell waved his men forward. \"Seize him, and take his dirk. He means to use it on our lady.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nJaime was the first to spy the inn. The main building hugged the south shore where the river bent, its long low wings outstretched along the water as if to embrace travelers sailing downstream. The lower story was grey stone, the upper whitewashed wood, the roof slate. He could see stables as well, and an arbor heavy with vines. \"No smoke from the chimneys,\" he pointed out as they approached. \"Nor lights in the windows.\"\n\n\"The inn was still open when last I passed this way,\" said Ser Cleos Frey. \"They brewed a fine ale. Perhaps there is still some to be had in the cellars.\"\n\n\"There maybe people,\" Brienne said. \"Hiding. Or dead.\"\n\n\"Frightened of a few corpses, wench?\" Jaime said.\n\nShe glared at him. \"My name is-\"\n\n\"-Brienne, yes. Wouldn't you like to sleep in abed fora night, Brienne? We'd be safer than on the open river, and it might be prudent to find what's happened here.\"\n\nShe gave no answer, but after a moment she pushed at the tiller to angle the skiff in toward the weathered wooden dock. Ser Cleos scrambled to take down the sail. When they bumped softly against the pier, he climbed out to tie them up. Jaime clambered after him, made awkward by his chains.\n\nAt the end of the dock, a flaking shingle swung from an iron post, painted with the likeness of a king upon his knees, his hands pressed together in the gesture of fealty. Jaime took one look and laughed aloud. \"We could not have found a better inn.\"\n\n\"Is this some special place?\" the wench asked, suspicious."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Work to move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 13"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nJaime was the first to spy the inn. The main building hugged the south shore where the river bent, its long low wings outstretched along the water as if to embrace travelers sailing downstream. The lower story was grey stone, the upper whitewashed wood, the roof slate. He could see stables as well, and an arbor heavy with vines. \"No smoke from the chimneys,\" he pointed out as they approached. \"Nor lights in the windows.\"\n\n\"The inn was still open when last I passed this way,\" said Ser Cleos Frey. \"They brewed a fine ale. Perhaps there is still some to be had in the cellars.\"\n\n\"There maybe people,\" Brienne said. \"Hiding. Or dead.\"\n\n\"Frightened of a few corpses, wench?\" Jaime said.\n\nShe glared at him. \"My name is-\"\n\n\"-Brienne, yes. Wouldn't you like to sleep in abed fora night, Brienne? We'd be safer than on the open river, and it might be prudent to find what's happened here.\"\n\nShe gave no answer, but after a moment she pushed at the tiller to angle the skiff in toward the weathered wooden dock. Ser Cleos scrambled to take down the sail. When they bumped softly against the pier, he climbed out to tie them up. Jaime clambered after him, made awkward by his chains.\n\nAt the end of the dock, a flaking shingle swung from an iron post, painted with the likeness of a king upon his knees, his hands pressed together in the gesture of fealty. Jaime took one look and laughed aloud. \"We could not have found a better inn.\"\n\n\"Is this some special place?\" the wench asked, suspicious."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ser Cleos answered."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This is the Inn of the Kneeling Man, my lady. It stands upon the very spot where the last King in the North knelt before Aegon the Conqueror to offer his submission. That's him on the sign, I suppose.\"\n\n\"Torrhen had brought his power south after the fall of the two kings on the Field of Fire,\" said Jaime, \"but when he saw Aegon's dragon and the size of his host, he chose the path of wisdom and bent his frozen knees.\" He stopped at the sound of a horse's whinny. \"Horses in the stable. One at least.\" And one is all I need to put the wench behind me. \"Let's see who's home, shall we?\" Without waiting for an answer, Jaime went clinking down the dock, put a shoulder to the door, shoved it open...\n\n... and found himself eye to eye with a loaded crossbow. Standing behind it was a chunky boy of fifteen. \"Lion, fish, or wolf?\" the lad demanded.\n\n\"We were hoping for capon.\" Jaime heard his companions entering behind him. \"The crossbow is a coward's weapon.\"\n\n\"It'll put a bolt through your heart all the same.\"\n\n\"Perhaps. But before you can wind it again my cousin here will spill your entrails on the floor.\"\n\n\"Don't be scaring the lad, now,\" Ser Cleos said.\n\n\"We mean no harm,\" the wench said. \"And we have coin to pay for food and drink.\" She dug a silver piece from her pouch.\n\nThe boy looked suspiciously at the coin, and then at Jaime's manacles. \"Why's this one in irons?\"\n\n\"Killed some crossbowmen,\" said Jaime. \"Do you have ale?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes.\" The boy lowered the crossbow an inch. \"Undo your swordbelts and let them fall, and might be we'll feed you.\" He edged around to peer through the thick, diamond-shaped windowpanes and see if anymore of them were outside. \"That's a Tully sail.\"\n\n\"We come from Riverrun.\" Brienne undid the clasp on her belt and let it clatter to the floor. Ser Cleos followed suit.\n\nA sallow man with a pocked doughy face stepped through the cellar door, holding a butcher's heavy cleaver. \"Three, are you? We got horsemeat enough for three. The horse was old and tough, but the meat's still fresh.\"\n\n\"Is there bread?\" asked Brienne.\n\n\"Hardbread and stale oatcakes.\"\n\nJaime grinned. \"Now there's an honest innkeep. They'll all serve you stale bread and stringy meat, but most don't own up to it so freely.\"\n\n\"I'm no innkeep. I buried him outback, with his women.\"\n\n\"Did you kill them?\"\n\n\"Would I tell you if I did?\" The man spat. \"Likely it were wolves'work, or maybe lions, what's the difference? The wife and I found them dead. The way we see it, the place is ours now.\"\n\n\"Where is this wife of yours?\" Ser Cleos asked.\n\nThe man gave him a suspicious squint. \"And why would you be wanting to know that? She's not here... no more'n you three will be, unless I like the taste of your silver.\"\n\nBrienne tossed the coin to him. He caught it in the air, bit it, and tucked it away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She's got more,\" the boy with the crossbow announced.\n\n\"So she does. Boy, go down and find me some onions.\"\n\nThe lad raised the crossbow to his shoulder, gave them one last sullen look, and vanished into the cellar.\n\n\"Your son?\" Ser Cleos asked.\n\n\"Just a boy the wife and me took in. We had two sons, but the lions killed one and the other died of the flux. The boy lost his mother to the Bloody Mummers. These days, a man needs someone to keep watch while he sleeps.\" He waved the cleaver at the tables. \"Might as well sit.\"\n\nThe hearth was cold, but Jaime picked the chair nearest the ashes and stretched out his long legs under the table. The clink of his chains accompanied his every movement. An irritating sound. Before this is done, I'll wrap these chains around the wench's throat, see how she likes them then.\n\nThe man who wasn't an innkeep charred three huge horse steaks and fried the onions in bacon grease, which almost made up for the stale oatcakes. Jaime and Cleos drank ale, Brienne a cup of cider. The boy kept his distance, perching atop the cider barrel with his crossbow across his knees, cocked and loaded. The cook drew a tankard of ale and sat with them. \"What news from Riverrun?\" he asked Ser Cleos, taking him for their leader.\n\nSer Cleos glanced at Brienne before answering. \"Lord Hoster is failing, but his son holds the fords of the Red Fork against the Lannisters. There have been battles.\"\n\n\"Battles everywhere. Where are you bound, ser?\"\n\n\"King's Landing.\" Ser Cleos wiped grease off his lips."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Their host snorted. \"Then you're three fools. Last I heard, King Stannis was outside the city walls. They say he has a hundred thousand men and a magic sword.\"\n\nJaime's hands wrapped around the chain that bound his wrists, and he twisted it taut, wishing for the strength to snap it in two. Then I'd show Stannis whereto sheathe his magic sword.\n\n\"I'd stay well clear of that kingsroad, if I were you,\" the man went on. \"It's worse than bad, I hear. Wolves and lions both, and bands of broken men preying on anyone they can catch.\"\n\n\"Vermin,\" declared Ser Cleos with contempt. \"Such would never dare to trouble armed men.\"\n\n\"Begging your pardon, ser, but I see one armed man, traveling with a woman and a prisoner in chains.\"\n\nBrienne gave the cook a dark look. The wench does hate being reminded that she's a wench, Jaime reflected, twisting at the chains again. The links were cold and hard against his flesh, the iron implacable. The manacles had chafed his wrists raw.\n\n\"I mean to follow the Trident to the sea,\" the wench told their host. \"We'll find mounts at Maidenpool and ride byway of Duskendale and Rosby. That should keep us well away from the worst of the fighting.\"\n\nTheir host shook his head. \"You'll never reach Maidenpool by river. Not thirty miles from here a couple boats burned and sank, and the channel's been silting up around them. There's a nest of outlaws there preying on anyone tries to come by, and more of the same downriver around the Skipping Stones and Red Deer Island. And the lightning lord's been seen in these parts as well. He crosses the river wherever he likes, riding this way and that way, never still.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And who is this lightning lord?\" demanded Ser Cleos Frey.\n\n\"Lord Beric, as it please you, ser. They call him that \"cause he strikes so sudden, like lightning from a clear sky. It's said he cannot die.\"\n\nThey all die when you shove a sword through them, Jaime thought. \"Does Thoros of Myr still ride with him?\"\n\n\"Aye. The red wizard. I've heard tell he has strange powers.\"\n\nWell, he had the power to match Robert Baratheon drink for drink, and there were few enough who could say that. Jaime had once heard Thoros tell the king that he became a red priest because the robes hid the winestains so well. Robert had laughed so hard he'd spit ale allover Cersei's silken mantle. \"Far be it from me to make objection,\" he said, \"but perhaps the Trident is not our safest course.\"\n\n\"I'd say that's so,\" their cook agreed. \"Even if you get past Red Deer Island and don't meetup with Lord Beric and the red wizard, there's still the ruby ford before you. Last I heard, it was the Leech Lord's wolves held the ford, but that was sometime past. By now it could be lions again, or Lord Beric, or anyone.\"\n\n\"Or no one,\" Brienne suggested.\n\n\"If m'lady cares to wager her skin on that I won't stop her... but if I was you, I'd leave this here river, cut overland. If you stay off the main roads and shelter under the trees of a night, hidden as it were... well, I still wouldn't want to go with you, but you might stand a mummer's chance.\"\n\nThe big wench was looking doubtful. \"We would need horses.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There are horses here,\" Jaime pointed out. \"I heard one in the stable.\"\n\n\"Aye, there are,\" said the innkeep, who wasn't an innkeep. \"Three of them, as it happens, but they're not for sale.\"\n\nJaime had to laugh. \"Of course not. But you'll show them to us anyway.\"\n\nBrienne scowled, but the man who wasn't an innkeep met her eyes without blinking, and after a moment, reluctantly, she said, \"Show me,\" and they all rose from the table.\n\nThe stables had not been mucked out in along while, from the smell of them. Hundreds of fat black flies swarmed amongst the straw, buzzing from stall to stall and crawling over the mounds of horse dung that lay everywhere, but there were only the three horses to be seen. They made an unlikely trio; a lumbering brown plow horse, an ancient white gelding blind in one eye, and a knight's palfrey, dapple grey and spirited. \"They're not for sale at any price,\" their alleged owner announced.\n\n\"How did you come by these horses?\" Brienne wanted to know.\n\n\"The dray was stabled here when the wife and me come on the inn,\" the man said, \"along with the one you just ate. The gelding come wandering up one night, and the boy caught the palfrey running free, still saddled and bridled. Here, I'll show you.\"\n\nThe saddle he showed them was decorated with silver inlay. The saddlecloth had originally been checkered pink and black, but now it was mostly brown. Jaime did not recognize the original colors, but he recognized bloodstains easily enough. \"Well, her owner won't becoming to claim her anytime soon.\" He examined the palfrey's legs, counted the gelding's teeth. \"Give him a gold piece for the grey, if he'll include the saddle,\" he advised Brienne. \"A silver for the plow horse. He ought to pay us for taking the white off his hands.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Don't speak discourteously of your horse, ser.\" The wench opened the purse Lady Catelyn had given her and took out three golden coins. \"I will pay you a dragon for each.\"\n\nHe blinked and reached for the gold, then hesitated and drew his hand back. \"I don't know. I can't ride no golden dragon if I need to getaway. Nor eat one if I'm hungry.\"\n\n\"You can have our skiff as well,\" she said. \"Sail up the river or down, as you like.\"\n\n\"Let me have a taste o'that gold.\" The man took one of the coins from her palm and bit it. \"Hm. Real enough, I'd say. Three dragons and the skiff?\"\n\n\"He's robbing you blind, wench,\" Jaime said amiably.\n\n\"I'll want provisions too,\" Brienne told their host, ignoring Jaime. \"Whatever you have that you can spare.\"\n\n\"There's more oatcakes.\" The man scooped the other two dragons from her palm and jingled them in his fist, smiling at the sound they made. \"Aye, and smoked salt fish, but that will cost you silver. My beds will be costing as well. You'll be wanting to stay the night.\"\n\n\"No,\" Brienne said at once.\n\nThe man frowned at her. \"Woman, you don't want to go riding at night through strange country on horses you don't know. You're like to blunder into some bog or break your horse's leg.\"\n\n\"The moon will be bright tonight,\" Brienne said. \"We'll have no trouble finding our way.\"\n\nTheir host chewed on that. \"If you don't have the silver, might be some coppers would buy you them beds, and a coverlet or two to keep you warm. It's not like I'm turning travelers away, if you get my meaning.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That sounds more than fair,\" said Ser Cleos.\n\n\"The coverlets is fresh washed, too. My wife saw to that before she had to go off. Not a flea to be found neither, you have my word on that.\" He jingled the coins again, smiling.\n\nSer Cleos was plainly tempted. \"A proper bed would do us all good, my lady,\" he said to Brienne. \"We'd make better time on the morrow once refreshed.\" He looked to his cousin for support.\n\n\"No, coz, the wench is right. We have promises to keep, and long leagues before us. We ought ride on.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Cleos, \"you said yourself-\"\n\n\"Then.\" When I thought the inn deserted. \"Now I have a full belly, and a moonlight ride will be just the thing.\" He smiled for the wench. \"But unless you mean to throw me over the back of that plow horse like a sack of flour, someone had best do something about these irons. It's difficult to ride with your ankles chained together.\"\n\nBrienne frowned at the chain. The man who wasn't an innkeep rubbed his jaw. \"There's a smithy round back of the stable.\"\n\n\"Show me,\" Brienne said.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jaime, \"and the sooner the better. There's far too much horseshit about here for my taste. I would hate to step in it.\" He gave the wench a sharp look, wondering if she was bright enough to take his meaning.\n\nHe hoped she might strike the irons off his wrists as well, but Brienne was still suspicious. She split the ankle chain in the center with a half-dozen sharp blows from the smith's hammer delivered to the blunt end of a steel chisel. When he suggested that she break the wrist chain as well, she ignored him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Six miles downriver you'll see a burned village,\" their host said as he was helping them saddle the horses and load their packs. This time he directed his counsel at Brienne. \"The road splits there. If you turn south, you'll come on Ser Warren's stone towerhouse. Ser Warren went off and died, so I couldn't say who holds it now, but it's a place best shunned. You'd do better to follow the track through the woods, south by east.\"\n\n\"We shall,\" she answered. \"You have my thanks.\"\n\nMore to the point, he has your gold. Jaime kept the thought to himself. He was tired of being disregarded by this huge ugly cow of a woman.\n\nShe took the plow horse for herself and assigned the palfrey to Ser Cleos. As threatened, Jaime drew the one-eyed gelding, which put an end to any thoughts he might have had of giving his horse a kick and leaving the wench in his dust.\n\nThe man and the boy came out to watch them leave. The man wished them luck and told them to comeback in better times, while the lad stood silent, his crossbow under his arm. \"Take up the spear or maul,\" Jaime told him, \"they'll serve you better.\" The boy stared at him distrustfully. So much for friendly advice. He shrugged, turned his horse, and never looked back.\n\nSer Cleos was all complaints as they rode out, still in mourning for his lost featherbed. They rode east, along the bank of the moonlit river. The Red Fork was very broad here, but shallow, its banks all mud and reeds. Jaime's mount plodded along placidly, though the poor old thing had a tendency to want to drift off to the side of his good eye. It felt good to be mounted once more. He had not been on a horse since Robb Stark's archers had killed his destrier under him in the Whispering Wood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When they reached the burned village, a choice of equally unpromising roads confronted them; narrow tracks, deeply rutted by the carts of farmers hauling their grain to the river. One wandered off toward the southeast and soon vanished amidst the trees they could see in the distance, while the other, straighter and stonier, arrowed due south. Brienne considered them briefly, and then swung her horse onto the southern road. Jaime was pleasantly surprised; it was the same choice he would have made.\n\n\"But this is the road the innkeep warned us against,\" Ser Cleos objected.\n\n\"He was no innkeep.\" She hunched gracelessly in the saddle, but seemed to have a sure seat nonetheless. \"The man took too great an interest in our choice of route, and those woods... such places are notorious haunts of outlaws. He may have been urging us into a trap.\"\n\n\"Clever wench.\" Jaime smiled at his cousin. \"Our host has friends down that road, I would venture. The ones whose mounts gave that stable such a memorable aroma.\"\n\n\"He may have been lying about the river as well, to put us on these horses,\" the wench said, \"but I could not take the risk. There will be soldiers at the ruby ford and the crossroads.\"\n\nWell, she maybe ugly but she's not entirely stupid. Jaime gave her a grudging smile.\n\nThe ruddy light from the upper windows of the stone towerhouse gave them warning of its presence along way off, and Brienne led them off into the fields. Only when the stronghold was well to the rear did they angle back and find the road again.\n\nHalf the night passed before the wench allowed that it might be safe to stop. By then all three of them were drooping in their saddles. They sheltered in a small grove of oak and ash beside a sluggish stream. The wench would allow no fire, so they shared a midnight supper of stale oatcakes and salt fish. The night was strangely peaceful. The half-moon sat overhead in a black felt sky, surrounded by stars. Off in the distance, some wolves were howling. One of their horses whickered nervously. There was no other sound. The war has not touched this place, Jaime thought. He was glad to be here, glad to be alive, glad to be on his way back to Cersei."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll take the first watch,\" Brienne told Ser Cleos, and Frey was soon snoring softly.\n\nJaime sat against the bole of an oak and wondered what Cersei and Tyrion were doing just now. \"Do you have any siblings, my lady?\" he asked.\n\nBrienne squinted at him suspiciously. \"No. I was my father's only s-child.\"\n\nJaime chuckled. \"Son, you meant to say. Does he think of you as a son? You make a queer sort of daughter, to be sure.\"\n\nWordless, she turned away from him, her knuckles tight on her sword hilt. What a wretched creature this one is. She reminded him of Tyrion in some queer way, though at first blush two people could scarcely be anymore dissimilar. Perhaps it was that thought of his brother that made him say, \"I did not intend to give offense, Brienne. Forgive me.\"\n\n\"Your crimes are past forgiving, Kingslayer.\"\n\n\"That name again.\" Jaime twisted idly at his chains. \"Why do I enrage you so? I've never done you harm that I know of.\"\n\n\"You've harmed others. Those you were sworn to protect. The weak, the innocent...\"\n\n\"... the king?\" It always came back to Aerys. \"Don't presume to judge what you do not understand, wench.\"\n\n\"My name is-\"\n\n\"-Brienne, yes. Has anyone ever told you that you're as tedious as you are ugly?\"\n\n\"You will not provoke me to anger, Kingslayer.\"\n\n\"Oh, I might, if I cared enough to try.\"\n\n\"Why did you take the oath?\" she demanded. \"Why don the white cloak if you meant to betray all it stood for?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Why?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What could he say that she might possibly understand? \"I was a boy. Fifteen. It was a great honor for one so young.\"\n\n\"That is no answer,\" she said scornfully.\n\nYou would not like the truth. He had joined the Kingsguard for love, of course.\n\nTheir father had summoned Cersei to court when she was twelve, hoping to make her a royal marriage. He refused every offer for her hand, preferring to keep her with him in the Tower of the Hand while she grew older and more womanly and evermore beautiful. No doubt he was waiting for Prince Viserys to mature, or perhaps for Rhaegar's wife to die in childbed. Elia of Dorne was never the healthiest of women.\n\nJaime, meantime, had spent four years as squire to Ser Sumner Crake-hall and earned his spurs against the Kingswood Brotherhood. But when he made a brief call at King's Landing on his way back to Casterly Rock, chiefly to see his sister, Cersei took him aside and whispered that Lord Tywin meant to marry him to Lysa Tully, had gone so far as to invite Lord Hoster to the city to discuss dower. But if Jaime took the white, he could be near her always. Old Ser Harlan Grandison had died in his sleep, as was only appropriate for one whose sigil was a sleeping lion. Aerys would want a young man to take his place, so why not a roaring lion in place of a sleepy one?\n\n\"Father will never consent,\" Jaime objected.\n\n\"The king won't ask him. And once it's done, Father can't object, not openly. Aerys had Ser Ilyn Payne's tongue torn out just for boasting that it was the Hand who truly ruled the Seven Kingdoms. The captain of the Hand's guard, and yet Father dared not try and stop it! He won't stop this, either.\""
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"value": "\"But,\" Jaime said, \"there's Casterly Rock...\"\n\n\"Is it a rock you want? Or me?\"\n\nHe remembered that night as if it were yesterday. They spent it in an old inn on Eel Alley, well away from watchful eyes. Cersei had come to him dressed as a simple serving wench, which somehow excited him all the more. Jaime had never seen her more passionate. Every time he went to sleep, she woke him again. By morning Casterly Rock seemed a small price to pay to be near her always. He gave his consent, and Cersei promised to do the rest.\n\nA moon's turn later, a royal raven arrived at Casterly Rock to inform him that he had been chosen for the Kingsguard. He was commanded to present himself to the king during the great tourney at Harrenhal to say his vows and don his cloak.\n\nJaime's investiture freed him from Lysa Tully. Elsewise, nothing went as planned. His father had never been more furious. He could not object openly-Cersei had judged that correctly-but he resigned the Handship on some thin pretext and returned to Casterly Rock, taking his daughter with him. Instead of being together, Cersei and Jaime just changed places, and he found himself alone at court, guarding a mad king while four lesser men took their turns dancing on knives in his father's ill-fitting shoes. So swiftly did the Hands rise and fall that Jaime remembered their heraldry better than their faces. The horn-of-plenty Hand and the dancing griffins Hand had both been exiled, the mace-and-dagger Hand dipped in wildfire and burned alive. Lord Rossart had been the last. His sigil had been a burning torch; an unfortunate choice, given the fate of his predecessor, but the alchemist had been elevated largely because he shared the king's passion for fire. I ought to have drowned Rossart instead of gutting him."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Brienne was still awaiting his answer. Jaime said, \"You are not old enough to have known Aerys Targaryen...\"\n\nShe would not hear it. \"Aerys was mad and cruel, no one has ever denied that. He was still king, crowned and anointed. And you had sworn to protect him.\"\n\n\"I know what I swore.\"\n\n\"And what you did.\" She loomed above him, six feet of freckled, frowning, horse-toothed disapproval.\n\n\"Yes, and what you did as well. We're both kingslayers here, if what I've heard is true.\"\n\n\"I never harmed Renly. I'll kill the man who says I did.\"\n\n\"Best start with Cleos, then. And you'll have a deal of killing to do after that, the way he tells the tale.\"\n\n\"Lies. Lady Catelyn was there when His Grace was murdered, she saw. There was a shadow. The candles guttered and the air grew cold, and there was blood-\"\n\n\"Oh, very good.\" Jaime laughed. \"Your wits are quicker than mine, I confess it. When they found me standing over my dead king, I never thought to say, \"No, no, it wasn't me, it was a shadow, a terrible cold shadow. \"\" He laughed again. \"Tell me true, one kingslayer to another-did the Starks pay you to slit his throat, or was it Stannis? Had Renly spurned you, was that the way of it? Or perhaps your moon's blood was on you. Never give a wench a sword when she's bleeding.\"\n\nFora moment Jaime thought Brienne might strike him. A step closer, and I'll snatch that dagger from her sheath and bury it up her womb. He gathered a leg under him, ready to spring, but the wench did not move. \"It is a rare and precious gift to be a knight,\" she said, \"and even more so a knight of the Kingsguard. It is a gift given to few, a gift you scorned and soiled.\""
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"value": "A gift you want desperately, wench, and can never have. \"I earned my knighthood. Nothing was given tome. I won a tourney mêlée at thirteen, when I was yet a squire. At fifteen, I rode with Ser Arthur Dayne against the Kingswood Brotherhood, and he knighted me on the battlefield. It was that white cloak that soiled me, not the other way around. So spare me your envy. It was the gods who neglected to give you a cock, not me.\"\n\nThe look Brienne gave him then was full of loathing. She would gladly hack me to pieces, but for her precious vow, he reflected. Good. I've had enough of feeble pieties and maidens\" judgments. The wench stalked off without saying a word. Jaime curled up beneath his cloak, hoping to dream of Cersei.\n\nBut when he closed his eyes, it was Aerys Targaryen he saw, pacing alone in his throne room, picking at his scabbed and bleeding hands. The fool was always cutting himself on the blades and barbs of the Iron Throne. Jaime had slipped in through the king's door, clad in his golden armor, sword in hand. The golden armor, not the white, but no one ever remembers that. Would that I had taken off that damned cloak as well.\n\nWhen Aerys saw the blood on his blade, he demanded to know if it was Lord Tywin's. \"I want him dead, the traitor. I want his head, you'll bring me his head, or you'll burn with all the rest. All the traitors. Rossart says they are inside the walls! He's gone to make them a warm welcome. Whose blood? Whose?\"\n\n\"Rossart's,\" answered Jaime."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Those purple eyes grew huge then, and the royal mouth drooped open in shock."
},
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"value": "He lost control of his bowels, turned, and ran for the Iron Throne. Beneath the empty eyes of the skulls on the walls, Jaime hauled the last dragonking bodily off the steps, squealing like a pig and smelling like a privy. A single slash across his throat was all it took to end it. So easy, he remembered thinking. A king should die harder than this. Rossart at least had tried to make a fight of it, though if truth be told he fought like an alchemist. Queer that they never ask who killed Rossart... but of course, he was no one, lowborn, Hand fora fortnight, just another mad fancy of the Mad King.\n\nSer Elys Westerling and Lord Crakehall and others of his father's knights burst into the hall in time to seethe last of it, so there was noway for Jaime to vanish and let some braggart steal the praise or blame. It would be blame, he knew at once when he saw the way they looked at him... though perhaps that was fear. Lannister or no, he was one of Aerys's seven.\n\n\"The castle is ours, ser, and the city,\" Roland Crakehall told him, which was half true. Targaryen loyalists were still dying on the serpentine steps and in the armory, Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch were scaling the walls of Maegor's Holdfast, and Ned Stark was leading his northmen through the King's Gate even then, but Crakehall could not have known that. He had not seemed surprised to find Aerys slain; Jaime had been Lord Tywin's son long before he had been named to the Kingsguard.\n\n\"Tell them the Mad King is dead,\" he commanded. \"Spare all those who yield and hold them captive.\""
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"value": "\"Shall I proclaim anew king as well?\" Crakehall asked, and Jaime read the question plain: Shall it be your father, or Robert Baratheon, or do you mean to try to make anew dragonking? He thought fora moment of the boy Viserys, fled to Dragonstone, and of Rhaegar's infant son Aegon, still in Maegor's with his mother. Anew Targaryen king, and my father as Hand. How the wolves will howl, and the storm lord choke with rage. Fora moment he was tempted, until he glanced down again at the body on the floor, in its spreading pool of blood. His blood is in both of them, he thought. \"Proclaim who you bloody well like,\" he told Crakehall. Then he climbed the Iron Throne and seated himself with his sword across his knees, to see who would come to claim the kingdom. As it happened, it had been Eddard Stark.\n\nYou had no right to judge me either, Stark.\n\nIn his dreams the dead came burning, gowned in swirling green flames. Jaime danced around them with a golden sword, but for everyone he struck down two more arose to take his place.\n\nBrienne woke him with a boot in the ribs. The world was still black, and it had begun to rain. They broke their fast on oatcakes, salt fish, and some blackberries that Ser Cleos had found, and were back in the saddle before the sun came up."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "TYRION\n\nThe eunuch was humming tunelessly to himself as he came through the door, dressed in flowing robes of peach-colored silk and smelling of lemons. When he saw Tyrion seated by the hearth, he stopped and grew very still. \"My lord Tyrion,\" came out in a squeak, punctuated by a nervous giggle.\n\n\"So you do remember me? I had begun to wonder.\"\n\n\"It is so very good to see you looking so strong and well.\" Varys smiled his slimiest smile. \"Though I confess, I had not thought to find you in mine own humble chambers.\"\n\n\"They are humble. Excessively so, in truth.\" Tyrion had waited until Varys was summoned by his father before slipping into pay him a visit. The eunuch's apartments were sparse and small, three snug windowless chambers under the north wall. \"I'd hoped to discover bushel baskets of juicy secrets to while away the waiting, but there's not a paper to be found.\" He'd searched for hidden passages too, knowing the Spider must have ways of coming and going unseen, but those had proved equally elusive. \"There was water in your flagon, gods have mercy,\" he went on, \"your sleeping cell is no wider than a coffin, and that bed... is it actually made of stone, or does it only feel that way?\"\n\nVarys closed the door and barred it. \"I am plagued with backaches, my lord, and prefer to sleep upon a hard surface.\"\n\n\"I would have taken you fora featherbed man.\"\n\n\"I am full of surprises. Are you cross with me for abandoning you after the battle?\"\n\n\"It made me think of you as one of my family.\""
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It was not for want of love, my good lord. I have such a delicate disposition, and your scar is so dreadful to look upon...\" He gave an exaggerated shudder. \"Your poor nose...\"\n\nTyrion rubbed irritably at the scab. \"Perhaps I should have anew one made of gold. What sort of nose would you suggest, Varys? One like yours, to smell out secrets? Or should I tell the goldsmith that I want my father's nose?\" He smiled. \"My noble father labors so diligently that I scarce see him anymore. Tell me, is it true that he's restoring Grand Maester Pycelle to the small council?\"\n\n\"It is, my lord.\"\n\n\"Do I have my sweet sister to thank for that?\" Pycelle had been his sister's creature; Tyrion had stripped the man of office, beard, and dignity, and flung him down into a black cell.\n\n\"Not at all, my lord. Thank the archmaesters of Oldtown, those who wished to insist on Pycelle's restoration on the grounds that only the Conclave may make or unmake a Grand Maester.\"\n\nBloody fools, thought Tyrion. \"I seem to recall that Maegor the Cruel's headsman unmade three with his axe.\"\n\n\"Quite true,\" Varys said. \"And the second Aegon fed Grand Maester Gerardys to his dragon.\"\n\n\"Alas, I am quite dragonless. I suppose I could have dipped Pycelle in wildfire and set him ablaze. Would the Citadel have preferred that?\"\n\n\"Well, it would have been more in keeping with tradition.\" The eunuch tittered. \"Thankfully, wiser heads prevailed, and the Conclave accepted the fact of Pycelle's dismissal and set about choosing his successor. After giving due consideration to Maester Turquin the cordwainer's son and Maester Erreck the hedge knight's bastard, and thereby demonstrating to their own satisfaction that ability counts for more than birth in their order, the Conclave was on the verge of sending us Maester Gormon, a Tyrell of Highgarden. When I told your lord father, he acted at once.\""
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"value": "The Conclave met in Oldtown behind closed doors, Tyrion knew; its deliberations were supposedly a secret. So Varys has little birds in the Citadel too. \"I see. So my father decided to nip the rose before it bloomed.\" He had to chuckle. \"Pycelle is a toad. But better a Lannister toad than a Tyrell toad, no?\"\n\n\"Grand Maester Pycelle has always been a good friend to your House,\" Varys said sweetly. \"Perhaps it will console you to learn that Ser Boros Blount is also being restored.\"\n\nCersei had stripped Ser Boros of his white cloak for failing to die in the defense of Prince Tommen when Bronn had seized the boy on the Rosby road. The man was no friend of Tyrion's, but after that he likely hated Cersei almost as much. I suppose that's something. \"Blount is a blustering coward,\" he said amiably.\n\n\"Is he? Oh dear. Still, the knights of the Kingsguard do serve for life, traditionally. Perhaps Ser Boros will prove braver in future. He will no doubt remain very loyal.\"\n\n\"To my father,\" said Tyrion pointedly.\n\n\"While we are on the subject of the Kingsguard... I wonder, could this delightfully unexpected visit of yours happen to concern Ser Boros's fallen brother, the gallant Ser Mandon Moore?\" The eunuch stroked a powdered cheek. \"Your man Bronn seems most interested in him of late.\"\n\nBronn had turned up all he could on Ser Mandon, but no doubt Varys knew a deal more... should he choose to share it. \"The man seems to have been quite friendless,\" Tyrion said carefully."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sadly,\" said Varys, \"oh, sadly. You might find some kin if you turned over enough stones back in the Vale, but here... Lord Arryn brought him to King's Landing and Robert gave him his white cloak, but neither loved him much, I fear. Nor was he the sort the smallfolk cheer in tourneys, despite his undoubted prowess. Why, even his brothers of the Kingsguard never warmed to him. Ser Barristan was once heard to say that the man had no friend but his sword and no life but duty... but you know, I do not think Selmy meant it altogether as praise. Which is queer when you consider it, is it not? Those are the very qualities we seek in our Kingsguard, it could be said-men who live not for themselves, but for their king. By those lights, our brave Ser Mandon was the perfect white knight. And he died as a knight of the Kingsguard ought, with sword in hand, defending one of the king's own blood.\" The eunuch gave him a slimy smile and watched him sharply.\n\nTrying to murder one of the king's own blood, you mean. Tyrion wondered if Varys knew rather more than he was saying. Nothing he'd just heard was new to him; Bronn had brought back much the same reports. He needed a link to Cersei, some sign that Ser Mandon had been his sister's catspaw. What we want is not always what we get, he reflected bitterly, which reminded him...\n\n\"It is not Ser Mandon who brings me here.\"\n\n\"To be sure.\" The eunuch crossed the room to his flagon of water. \"May I serve you, my lord?\" he asked as he filled a cup.\n\n\"Yes. But not with water.\" He folded his hands together. \"I want you to bring me Shae.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Varys took a drink. \"Is that wise, my lord? The dear sweet child. It would be such a shame if your father hanged her.\"\n\nIt did not surprise him that Varys knew. \"No, it's not wise, it's bloody madness. I want to see her one last time, before I send her away. I cannot abide having her so close.\"\n\n\"I understand.\"\n\nHow could you? Tyrion had seen her only yesterday, climbing the serpentine steps with a pail of water. He had watched as a young knight had offered to carry the heavy pail. The way she had touched his arm and smiled for him had tied Tyrion's guts into knots. They passed within inches of each other, him descending and her climbing, so close that he could smell the clean fresh scent of her hair. \"M'lord,\" she'd said to him, with a little curtsy, and he wanted to reach out and grab her and kiss her right there, but all he could do was nod stiffly and waddle on past. \"I have seen her several times,\" he told Varys, \"but I dare not speak to her. I suspect that all my movements are being watched.\"\n\n\"You are wise to suspect so, my good lord.\"\n\n\"Who?\" He cocked his head.\n\n\"The Kettleblacks report frequently to your sweet sister.\"\n\n\"When I think of how much coin I paid those wretched... do you think there's any chance that more gold might win them away from Cersei?\"\n\n\"There is always a chance, but I should not care to wager on the likelihood. They are knights now, all three, and your sister has promised them further advancement.\" A wicked little titter burst from the eunuch's lips. \"And the eldest, Ser Osmund of the Kingsguard, dreams of certain other... favors... as well. You can match the queen coin for coin, I have no doubt, but she has a second purse that is quite inexhaustible.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Seven hells, thought Tyrion."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Are you suggesting that Cersei's fucking Osmund Kettleblack?\"\n\n\"Oh, dear me, no, that would be dreadfully dangerous, don't you think? No, the queen only hints... perhaps on the morrow, or when the wedding's done... and then a smile, a whisper, a ribald jest... abreast brushing lightly against his sleeve as they pass... and yet it seems to serve. But what would a eunuch know of such things?\" The tip of his tongue ran across his lower lip like ashy pink animal.\n\nIf I could somehow push them beyond sly fondling, arrange for Father to catch them abed together... Tyrion fingered the scab on his nose. He did not see how it could be done, but perhaps some plan would come to him later. \"Are the Kettleblacks the only ones?\"\n\n\"Would that were true, my lord. I fear there are many eyes upon you. You are... how shall we say? Conspicuous? And not well loved, it grieves me to tell you. Janos Slynt's sons would gladly inform on you to avenge their father, and our sweet Lord Petyr has friends in half the brothels of King's Landing. Should you be so unwise as to visit any of them, he will know at once, and your lord father soon thereafter.\"\n\nIt's even worse than I feared. \"And my father? Who does he have spying on me?\"\n\nThis time the eunuch laughed aloud. \"Why, me, my lord.\"\n\nTyrion laughed as well. He was not so great a fool as to trust Varys any further than he had to-but the eunuch already knew enough about Shae to get her well and thoroughly hanged. \"You will bring Shae tome through the walls, hidden from all these eyes. As you have done before.\""
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Varys wrung his hands. \"Oh, my lord, nothing would please me more, but... King Maegor wanted no rats in his own walls, if you take my meaning. He did require a means of secret egress, should he ever be trapped by his enemies, but that door does not connect with any other passages. I can steal your Shae away from Lady Lollys fora time, to be sure, but I have noway to bring her to your bedchamber without us being seen.\"\n\n\"Then bring her somewhere else.\"\n\n\"But where? There is no safe place.\"\n\n\"There is.\" Tyrion grinned. \"Here. It's time to put that rock-hard bed of yours to better use, I think.\"\n\nThe eunuch's mouth opened. Then he giggled. \"Lollys tires easily these days. She is great with child. I imagine she will be safely asleep by moonrise.\"\n\nTyrion hopped down from the chair. \"Moonrise, then. See that you lay in some wine. And two clean cups.\"\n\nVarys bowed. \"It shall be as my lord commands.\"\n\nThe rest of the day seemed to creep by as slow as a worm in molasses. Tyrion climbed to the castle library and tried to distract himself with Beldecar's History of the Rhoynish Wars, but he could hardly seethe elephants for imagining Shae's smile. Come the afternoon, he put the book aside and called fora bath. He scrubbed himself until the water grew cool, and then had Pod even out his whiskers. His beard was atrial to him; a tangle of yellow, white, and black hairs, patchy and coarse, it was seldom less than unsightly, but it did serve to conceal some of his face, and that was all to the good."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he was as clean and pink and trimmed as he was like to get, Tyrion looked over his wardrobe, and chose a pair of tight satin breeches in Lannister crimson and his best doublet, the heavy black velvet with the lion's head studs. He would have donned his chain of golden hands as well, if his father hadn't stolen it while he lay dying. It was not until he was dressed that he realized the depths of his folly. Seven hells, dwarf, did you lose all your sense along with your nose? Anyone who sees you is going to wonder why you've put on your court clothes to visit the eunuch. Cursing, Tyrion stripped and dressed again, in simpler garb; black woolen breeches, an old white tunic, and a faded brown leather jerkin. It doesn't matter, he told himself as he waited for moonrise. Whatever you wear, you're still a dwarf. You'll never be as tall as that knight on the steps, him with his long straight legs and hard stomach and wide manly shoulders.\n\nThe moon was peeping over the castle wall when he told Podrick Payne that he was going to pay a call on Varys. \"Will you belong, my lord?\" the boy asked.\n\n\"Oh, I hope so.\"\n\nWith the Red Keep so crowded, Tyrion could not hope to go unnoticed. Ser Balon Swann stood guard on the door, and Ser Loras Tyrell on the drawbridge. He stopped to exchange pleasantries with both of them. It was strange to seethe Knight of Flowers all in white when before he had always been as colorful as a rainbow. \"How old are you, Ser Loras?\" Tyrion asked him.\n\n\"Seventeen, my lord.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Seventeen, and beautiful, and already a legend. Half the girls in the Seven Kingdoms want to bed him, and all the boys want to be him. \"If you will pardon my asking, ser-why would anyone choose to join the Kingsguard at seventeen?\"\n\n\"Prince Aemon the Dragonknight took his vows at seventeen,\" Ser Loras said, \"and your brother Jaime was younger still.\"\n\n\"I know their reasons. What are yours? The honor of serving beside such paragons as Meryn Trant and Boros Blount?\" He gave the boy a mocking grin. \"To guard the king's life, you surrender your own. You give up your lands and titles, give up hope of marriage, children...\"\n\n\"House Tyrell continues through my brothers,\" Ser Loras said. \"It is not necessary fora third son towed, or breed.\"\n\n\"Not necessary, but some find it pleasant. What of love?\"\n\n\"When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.\"\n\n\"Is that from a song?\" Tyrion cocked his head, smiling. \"Yes, you are seventeen, I see that now.\"\n\nSer Loras tensed. \"Do you mock me?\"\n\nA prickly lad. \"No. If I've given offense, forgive me. I had my own love once, and we had a song as well.\" I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair. He bid Ser Loras a good evening and went on his way.\n\nNear the kennels a group of men-at-arms were fighting a pair of dogs. Tyrion stopped long enough to seethe smaller dog tear half the face off the larger one, and earned a few coarse laughs by observing that the loser now resembled Sandor Clegane. Then, hoping he had disarmed their suspicions, he proceeded to the north wall and down the short flight of steps to the eunuch's meager abode. The door opened as he was lifting his hand to knock."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Varys?\" Tyrion slipped inside. \"Are you there?\" A single candlelit the gloom, spicing the air with the scent of jasmine.\n\n\"My lord.\" A woman sidled into the light; plump, soft, matronly, with around pink moon of a face and heavy dark curls. Tyrion recoiled. \"Is something amiss?\" she asked.\n\nVarys, he realized with annoyance. \"For one horrid moment I thought you'd brought me Lollys instead of Shae. Where is she?\"\n\n\"Here, m'lord.\" She put her hands over his eyes from behind. \"Can you guess what I'm wearing?\"\n\n\"Nothing?\"\n\n\"Oh, you're so smart,\" she pouted, snatching her hands away. \"How did you know?\"\n\n\"You're very beautiful in nothing.\"\n\n\"Am I?\" she said. \"Am I truly?\"\n\n\"Oh yes.\"\n\n\"Then shouldn't you be fucking me instead of talking?\"\n\n\"We need to rid ourselves of Lady Varys first. I am not the sort of dwarf who likes an audience.\"\n\n\"He's gone,\" Shae said.\n\nTyrion turned to look. It was true. The eunuch had vanished, skirts and all. The hidden doors are here somewhere, they have to be. That was as much as he had time to think, before Shae turned his head to kiss him. Her mouth was wet and hungry, and she did not even seem to see his scar, or the raw scab where his nose had been. Her skin was warm silk beneath his fingers. When his thumb brushed against her left nipple, it hardened at once. \"Hurry,\" she urged, between kisses, as his fingers went to his laces, \"oh, hurry, hurry, I want you in me, in me, in me.\" He did not even have time to undress properly. Shae pulled his cock out of his breeches, then pushed him down onto the floor and climbed atop him. She screamed as he pushed past her lips, and rode him wildly, moaning, \"My giant, my giant, my giant,\" every time she slammed down on him. Tyrion was so eager that he exploded on the fifth stroke, but Shae did not seem to mind. She smiled wickedly when she felt him spurting, and leaned forward to kiss the sweat from his brow. \"My giant of Lannister,\" she murmured. \"Stay inside me, please. I like to feel you there.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "So Tyrion did not move, except to put his arms around her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It feels so good to hold her, and to beheld, he thought. How can something this sweet be a crime worth hanging her for? \"Shae,\" he said, \"sweetling, this must be our last time together. The danger is too great. If my lord father should find you...\"\n\n\"I like your scar.\" She traced it with her finger. \"It makes you look very fierce and strong.\"\n\nHe laughed. \"Very ugly, you mean.\"\n\n\"M'lord will never be ugly in my eyes.\" She kissed the scab that covered the ragged stub of his nose.\n\n\"It's not my face that need concern you, it's my father-\"\n\n\"He does not frighten me. Will m'lord give me back my jewels and silks now? I asked Varys if I could have them when you were hurt in the battle, but he wouldn't give them tome. What would have become of them if you'd died?\"\n\n\"I didn't die. Here I am.\"\n\n\"I know.\" Shae wriggled atop him, smiling. \"Just where you belong.\" Her mouth turned pouty. \"But how long must I goon with Lollys, now that you're well?\"\n\n\"Have you been listening?\" Tyrion said. \"You can stay with Lollys if you like, but it would be best if you left the city.\"\n\n\"I don't want to leave. You promised you'd move me into a manse again after the battle.\" Her cunt gave him a little squeeze, and he started to stiffen again inside her. \"A Lannister always pays his debts, you said.\"\n\n\"Shae, gods be damned, stop that. Listen tome. You have to go away. The city's full of Tyrells just now, and I am closely watched. You don't understand the dangers.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Can I come to the king's wedding feast? Lollys won't go. I told her no one's like to rape her in the king's own throne room, but she's so stupid.\" When Shae rolled off, his cock slid out of her with a soft wet sound. \"Symon says there's to be a singers'tourney, and tumblers, even a fools\" joust.\"\n\nTyrion had almost forgotten about Shae's thrice-damned singer. \"How is it you spoke to Symon?\"\n\n\"I told Lady Tanda about him, and she hired him to play for Lollys. The music calms her when the baby starts to kick. Symon says there's to be a dancing bear at the feast, and wines from the Arbor. I've never seen a bear dance.\"\n\n\"They do it worse than I do.\" It was the singer who concerned him, not the bear. One careless word in the wrong ear, and Shae would hang.\n\n\"Symon says there's to be seventy-seven courses and a hundred doves baked into a great pie,\" Shae gushed. \"When the crust's opened, they'll all burst out and fly.\"\n\n\"After which they will roost in the rafters and rain down birdshit on the guests.\" Tyrion had suffered such wedding pies before. The doves liked to shit on him especially, or so he had always suspected.\n\n\"Couldn't I dress in my silks and velvets and go as a lady instead of a maidservant? No one would know I wasn't.\"\n\nEveryone would know you weren't, thought Tyrion. \"Lady Tanda might wonder where Lollys's bedmaid found so many jewels.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's to be a thousand guests, Symon says. She'd never even see me. I'd find a place in some dark corner below the salt, but whenever you got up to go to the privy I could slip out and meet you.\" She cupped his cock and stroked it gently. \"I won't wear any smallclothes under my gown, so m'lord won't even need to unlace me.\" Her fingers teased him, up and down. \"Or if he liked, I could do this for him.\" She took him in her mouth.\n\nTyrion was soon ready again. This time he lasted much longer. When he finished Shae crawled backup him and curled up naked under his arm. \"You'll let me come, won't you?\"\n\n\"Shae,\" he groaned, \"it is not safe.\"\n\nFora time she said nothing at all. Tyrion tried to speak of other things, but he meta wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he'd once walked in the north. Gods be good, he thought wearily as he watched the candle burn down and begin to gutter, how could I let this happen again, after Tysha? Am I as great a fool as my father thinks? Gladly would he have given her the promise she wanted, and gladly walked her back to his own bedchamber on his arm to let her dress in the silks and velvets she loved so much. Had the choice been his, she could have sat beside him at Joffrey's wedding feast, and danced with all the bears she liked. But he could not see her hang.\n\nWhen the candle burned out, Tyrion disentangled himself and lit another. Then he made around of the walls, tapping on each in turn, searching for the hidden door. Shae sat with her legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around them, watching him. Finally she said, \"They're under the bed. The secret steps.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He looked at her, incredulous. \"The bed? The bed is solid stone. It weighs half a ton.\"\n\n\"There's a place where Varys pushes, and it floats right up. I asked him how, and he said it was magic.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Tyrion had to grin. \"A counterweight spell.\"\n\nShae stood. \"I should go back. Sometimes the baby kicks and Lollys wakes and calls for me.\"\n\n\"Varys should return shortly. He's probably listening to every word we say.\" Tyrion set the candle down. There was a wet spot on the front of his breeches, but in the darkness it ought to go unnoticed. He told Shae to dress and wait for the eunuch.\n\n\"I will,\" she promised. \"You are my lion, aren't you? My giant of Lannister?\"\n\n\"I am,\" he said. \"And you're-\"\n\n\"-your whore.\" She laid a finger to his lips. \"I know. I'd be your lady, but I never can. Else you'd take me to the feast. It doesn't matter. I like being a whore for you, Tyrion. Just keep me, my lion, and keep me safe.\"\n\n\"I shall,\" he promised. Fool, fool, the voice inside him screamed. Why did you say that? You came hereto send her away! Instead he kissed her once more.\n\nThe walk back seemed long and lonely. Podrick Payne was asleep in his trundle bed at the foot of Tyrion's, but he woke the boy. \"Bronn,\" he said.\n\n\"Ser Bronn?\" Pod rubbed the sleep from his eyes. \"Oh. Should I get him? My lord?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why no, I woke you up so we could have a little chat about the way he dresses,\" said Tyrion, but his sarcasm was wasted. Pod only gaped at him in confusion until he threw up his hands and said, \"Yes, get him. Bring him. Now.\"\n\nThe lad dressed hurriedly and all but ran from the room. Am I really so terrifying? Tyrion wondered, as he changed into a bedrobe and poured himself some wine.\n\nHe was on his third cup and half the night was gone before Pod finally returned, with the sellsword knight in tow. \"I hope the boy had a damn good reason dragging me out of Chataya's,\" Bronn said as he seated himself.\n\n\"Chataya's?\" Tyrion said, annoyed.\n\n\"It's good to be a knight. No more looking for the cheaper brothels down the street.\" Bronn grinned. \"Now it's Alayaya and Marei in the same featherbed, with Ser Bronn in the middle.\"\n\nTyrion had to bite back his annoyance. Bronn had as much right to bed Alayaya as any other man, but still... I never touched her, much as I wanted to, but Bronn could not know that. He should have kept his cock out of her. He dare not visit Chataya's himself. If he did, Cersei would see that his father heard of it, and'Yaya would suffer more than a whipping. He'd sent the girl a necklace of silver and jade and a pair of matching bracelets byway of apology, but other than that...\n\nThis is fruitless. \"There is a singer who calls himself Symon Silver Tongue,\" Tyrion said wearily, pushing his guilt aside. \"He plays for Lady Tanda's daughter sometimes.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What of him?\"\n\nKill him, he might have said, but the man had done nothing but sing a few songs. And fill Shae's sweet head with visions of doves and dancing bears. \"Find him,\" he said instead. \"Find him before someone else does.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "ARYA\n\nShe was grubbing for vegetables in a dead man's garden when she heard the singing.\n\nArya stiffened, still as stone, listening, the three stringy carrots in her hand suddenly forgotten. She thought of the Bloody Mummers and Roose Bolton's men, and a shiver of fear went down her back. It's not fair, not when we finally found the Trident, not when we thought we were almost safe.\n\nOnly why would the Mummers be singing?\n\nThe song came drifting up the river from somewhere beyond the little rise to the east. \"Off to Gulltown to seethe fair maid, heigh-ho, heigh-ho...\"\n\nArya rose, carrots dangling from her hand. It sounded like the singer was coming up the river road. Over among the cabbages, Hot Pie had heard it too, to judge by the look on his face. Gendry had gone to sleep in the shade of the burned cottage, and was past hearing anything.\n\n\"I'll steal a sweet kiss with the point of my blade, heigh-ho, heigh-ho.\" She thought she heard a woodharp too, beneath the soft rush of the river.\n\n\"Do you hear?\" Hot Pie asked in a hoarse whisper, as he hugged an armful of cabbages. \"Someone's coming.\"\n\n\"Go wake Gendry,\" Arya told him. \"Just shake him by the shoulder, don't make a lot of noise.\" Gendry was easy to wake, unlike Hot Pie, who needed to be kicked and shouted at.\n\n\"I'll make her my love and we'll rest in the shade, heigh-ho, heigh-ho.\" The song swelled louder with every word."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hot Pie opened his arms. The cabbages fell to the ground with soft thumps. \"We have to hide.\"\n\nWhere? The burned cottage and its overgrown garden stood hard beside the banks of the Trident. There were a few willows growing along the river's edge and reed beds in the muddy shallows beyond, but most of the ground hereabouts was painfully open. I knew we should never have left the woods, she thought. They'd been so hungry, though, and the garden had been too much a temptation. The bread and cheese they had stolen from Harrenhal had given out six days ago, back in the thick of the woods. \"Take Gendry and the horses behind the cottage,\" she decided. There was part of one wall still standing, big enough, maybe, to conceal two boys and three horses. If the horses don't whinny, and that singer doesn't come poking around the garden.\n\n\"What about you?\"\n\n\"I'll hide by the tree. He's probably alone. If he bothers me, I'll kill him. Go!\"\n\nHot Pie went, and Arya dropped her carrots and drew the stolen sword from over her shoulder. She had strapped the sheath across her back; the longsword was made fora man grown, and it bumped against the ground when she wore it on her hip. It's too heavy besides, she thought, missing Needle the way she did every time she took this clumsy thing in her hand. But it was a sword and she could kill with it, that was enough.\n\nLightfoot, she moved to the big old willow that grew beside the bend in the road and went to one knee in the grass and mud, within the veil of trailing branches. You old gods, she prayed as the singer's voice grew louder, you tree gods, hide me, and make him go past. Then a horse whickered, and the song broke off suddenly. He's heard, she knew, but maybe he's alone, or if he's not, maybe they'll be as scared of us as we are of them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did you hear that?\" a man's voice said. \"There's something behind that wall, I would say.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" replied a second voice, deeper. \"What do you think it might be, Archer?\"\n\nTwo, then. Arya bit her lip. She could not see them from where she knelt, on account of the willow. But she could hear.\n\n\"A bear.\" A third voice, or the first one again?\n\n\"A lot of meat on a bear,\" the deep voice said. \"A lot of fat as well, in fall. Good to eat, if it's cooked upright.\"\n\n\"Could be a wolf. Maybe a lion.\"\n\n\"With four feet, you think? Or two?\"\n\n\"Makes no matter. Does it?\"\n\n\"Not so I know. Archer, what do you mean to do with all them arrows?\"\n\n\"Drop a few shafts over the wall. Whatever's hiding back there will come out quick enough, watch and see.\"\n\n\"What if it's some honest man back there, though? Or some poor woman with a little babe at her breast?\"\n\n\"An honest man would come out and show us his face. Only an outlaw would skulk and hide.\"\n\n\"Aye, that's so. Goon and loose your shafts, then.\"\n\nArya sprang to her feet. \"Don't!\" She showed them her sword. There were three, she saw. Only three. Syrio could fight more than three, and she had Hot Pie and Gendry to stand with her, maybe. But they're boys, and these are men.\n\nThey were men afoot, travel-stained and mud-specked. She knew the singer by the woodharp he cradled against his jerkin, as a mother might cradle a babe. A small man, fifty from the look of him, he had a bigmouth, a sharp nose, and thinning brown hair. His faded greens were mended here and therewith old leather patches, and he wore a brace of throwing knives on his hip and a woodman's axe slung across his back."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The man beside him stood a good foot taller, and had the look of a soldier."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A longsword and dirk hung from his studded leather belt, rows of overlapping steel rings were sewn onto his shirt, and his head was covered by a black iron halfhelm shaped like a cone. He had bad teeth and a bushy brown beard, but it was his hooded yellow cloak that drew the eye. Thick and heavy, stained herewith grass and therewith blood, frayed along the bottom and patched with deerskin on the right shoulder, the greatcloak gave the big man the look of some huge yellow bird.\n\nThe last of the three was a youth as skinny as his longbow, if not quite as tall. Red-haired and freckled, he wore a studded brigantine, high boots, fingerless leather gloves, and a quiver on his back. His arrows were fletched with grey goose feathers, and six of them stood in the ground before him, like a little fence.\n\nThe three men looked at her, standing therein the road with her blade in hand. Then the singer idly plucked a string. \"Boy,\" he said, \"put up that sword now, unless you're wanting to be hurt. It's too big for you, lad, and besides, Anguy here could put three shafts through you before you could hope to reach us.\"\n\n\"He could not,\" Arya said, \"and I'm a girl.\"\n\n\"So you are.\" The singer bowed. \"My pardons.\"\n\n\"You goon down the road. Just walk right past here, and you keep on singing, so we'll know where you are. Go away and leave us be and I won't kill you.\"\n\nThe freckle-faced archer laughed. \"Lem, she won't kill us, did you hear?\"\n\n\"I heard,\" said Lem, the big soldier with the deep voice."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborate with the author and advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 15"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The man beside him stood a good foot taller, and had the look of a soldier."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A longsword and dirk hung from his studded leather belt, rows of overlapping steel rings were sewn onto his shirt, and his head was covered by a black iron halfhelm shaped like a cone. He had bad teeth and a bushy brown beard, but it was his hooded yellow cloak that drew the eye. Thick and heavy, stained herewith grass and therewith blood, frayed along the bottom and patched with deerskin on the right shoulder, the greatcloak gave the big man the look of some huge yellow bird.\n\nThe last of the three was a youth as skinny as his longbow, if not quite as tall. Red-haired and freckled, he wore a studded brigantine, high boots, fingerless leather gloves, and a quiver on his back. His arrows were fletched with grey goose feathers, and six of them stood in the ground before him, like a little fence.\n\nThe three men looked at her, standing therein the road with her blade in hand. Then the singer idly plucked a string. \"Boy,\" he said, \"put up that sword now, unless you're wanting to be hurt. It's too big for you, lad, and besides, Anguy here could put three shafts through you before you could hope to reach us.\"\n\n\"He could not,\" Arya said, \"and I'm a girl.\"\n\n\"So you are.\" The singer bowed. \"My pardons.\"\n\n\"You goon down the road. Just walk right past here, and you keep on singing, so we'll know where you are. Go away and leave us be and I won't kill you.\"\n\nThe freckle-faced archer laughed. \"Lem, she won't kill us, did you hear?\"\n\n\"I heard,\" said Lem, the big soldier with the deep voice."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Child,\" said the singer, \"put up that sword, and we'll take you to a safe place and get some food in that belly. There are wolves in these parts, and lions, and worse things. No place fora little girl to be wandering alone.\"\n\n\"She's not alone.\" Gendry rode out from behind the cottage wall, and behind him Hot Pie, leading her horse. In his chainmail shirt with a sword in his hand, Gendry looked almost a man grown, and dangerous. Hot Pie looked like Hot Pie. \"Do like she says, and leave us be,\" warned Gendry.\n\n\"Two and three,\" the singer counted, \"and is that all of you? And horses too, lovely horses. Where did you steal them?\"\n\n\"They're ours.\" Arya watched them carefully. The singer kept distracting her with his talk, but it was the archer who was the danger. If he should pull an arrow from the ground...\n\n\"Will you give us your names like honest men?\" the singer asked the boys.\n\n\"I'm Hot Pie,\" Hot Pie said at once.\n\n\"Aye, and good for you.\" The man smiled. \"It's not everyday I meet a lad with such a tasty name. And what would your friends be called, Mutton Chop and Squab?\"\n\nGendry scowled down from his saddle. \"Why should I tell you my name? I haven't heard yours.\"\n\n\"Well, as to that, I'm Tom of Sevenstreams, but Tom Sevenstrings is what they call me, or Tom o\" Sevens. This great lout with the brown teeth is Lem, short for Lemoncloak. It's yellow, you see, and Lem's a sour sort. And young fellow me lad over there is Anguy, or Archer as we like to call him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Now who are you?\" demanded Lem, in the deep voice that Arya had heard through the branches of the willow.\n\nShe was not about to give up her true name as easy as that. \"Squab, if you want,\" she said. \"I don't care.\"\n\nThe big man laughed. \"A squab with a sword,\" he said. \"Now there's something you don't often see.\"\n\n\"I'm the Bull,\" said Gendry, taking his lead from Arya. She could not blame him for preferring Bull to Mutton Chop.\n\nTom Sevenstrings strummed his harp. \"Hot Pie, Squab, and the Bull. Escaped from Lord Bolton's kitchen, did you?\"\n\n\"How did you know?\" Arya demanded, uneasy.\n\n\"You bear his sigil on your chest, little one.\"\n\nShe had forgotten that for an instant. Beneath her cloak, she still wore her fine page's doublet, with the flayed man of the Dreadfort sewn on her breast. \"Don't call me little one!\"\n\n\"Why not?\" said Lem. \"You're little enough.\"\n\n\"I'm bigger than I was. I'm not a child.\" Children didn't kill people, and she had.\n\n\"I can see that, Squab. You're none of you children, not if you were Bolton's.\"\n\n\"We never were.\" Hot Pie never knew when to keep quiet. \"We were at Harrenhal before he came, that's all.\"\n\n\"So you're lion cubs, is that the way of it?\" said Tom.\n\n\"Not that either. We're nobody's men. Whose men are you?\"\n\nAnguy the Archer said, \"We're king's men.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya frowned. \"Which king?\"\n\n\"King Robert,\" said Lem, in his yellow cloak.\n\n\"That old drunk?\" said Gendry scornfully. \"He's dead, some boar killed him, everyone knows that.\"\n\n\"Aye, lad,\" said Tom Sevenstrings, \"and more's the pity.\" He plucked a sad chord from his harp.\n\nArya didn't think they were king's men at all. They looked more like outlaws, all tattered and ragged. They didn't even have horses to ride. King's men would have had horses.\n\nBut Hot Pie piped up eagerly. \"We're looking for Riverrun,\" he said. \"How many days\" ride is it, do you know?\"\n\nArya could have killed him. \"You be quiet, or I'll stuff rocks in your big stupid mouth.\"\n\n\"Riverrun is along way upstream,\" said Tom. \"Along hungry way. Might be you'd like a hot meal before you set out? There's an inn not far ahead kept by some friends of ours. We could share some ale and a bite of bread, instead of fighting one another.\"\n\n\"An inn?\" The thought of hot food made Arya's belly rumble, but she didn't trust this Tom. Not everyone who spoke you friendly was really your friend. \"It's near, you say?\"\n\n\"Two miles upstream,\" said Tom. \"A league at most.\"\n\nGendry looked as uncertain as she felt. \"What do you mean, friends?\" he asked warily.\n\n\"Friends. Have you forgotten what friends are?\"\n\n\"Sharna is the innkeep's name,\" Tom put in. \"She has a sharp tongue and a fierce eye, I'll grant you that, but her heart's a good one, and she's fond of little girls.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'm not a little girl,\" she said angrily."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who else is there? You said friends.\"\n\n\"Sharna's husband, and an orphan boy they took in. They won't harm you. There's ale, if you think you're old enough. Fresh bread and maybe a bit of meat.\" Tom glanced toward the cottage. \"And whatever you stole from Old Pate's garden besides.\"\n\n\"We never stole,\" said Arya.\n\n\"Are you Old Pate's daughter, then? A sister? A wife? Tell me no lies, Squab. I buried Old Pate myself, right thereunder that willow where you were hiding, and you don't have his look.\" He drew a sad sound from his harp. \"We've buried many a good man this past year, but we've no wish to bury you, I swear it on my harp. Archer, show her.\"\n\nThe archer's hand moved quicker than Arya would have believed. His shaft went hissing past her head within an inch of her ear and buried itself in the trunk of the willow behind her. By then the bowman had a second arrow notched and drawn. She'd thought she understood what Syrio meant by quick as a snake and smooth as summer silk, but now she knew she hadn't. The arrow thrummed behind her like a bee. \"You missed,\" she said.\n\n\"More fool you if you think so,\" said Anguy. \"They go where I send them.\"\n\n\"That they do,\" agreed Lem Lemoncloak.\n\nThere were a dozen steps between the archer and the point of her sword. We have no chance, Arya realized, wishing she had a bow like his, and the skill to use it. Glumly, she lowered her heavy longsword till the point touched the ground. \"We'll come see this inn,\" she conceded, trying to hide the doubt in her heart behind bold words. \"You walk in front and we'll ride behind, so we can see what you're doing.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tom Sevenstrings bowed deeply and said, \"Before, behind, it makes no matter. Come along, lads, let's show them the way. Anguy, best pull up those arrows, we won't be needing them here.\"\n\nArya sheathed her sword and crossed the road to where her friends sat on their horses, keeping her distance from the three strangers. \"Hot Pie, get those cabbages,\" she said as she vaulted into her saddle. \"And the carrots too.\"\n\nFor once he did not argue. They set off as she had wanted, walking their horses slowly down the rutted road a dozen paces behind the three on foot. But before very long, somehow they were riding right on top of them. Tom Sevenstrings walked slowly, and liked to strum his woodharp as he went. \"Do you know any songs?\" he asked them. \"I'd dearly love someone to sing with, that I would. Lem can't carry a tune, and our longbow lad only knows marcher ballads, everyone of them a hundred verses long.\"\n\n\"We sing real songs in the marches,\" Anguy said mildly.\n\n\"Singing is stupid,\" said Arya. \"Singing makes noise. We heard you along way off. We could have killed you.\"\n\nTom's smile said he did not think so. \"There are worse things than dying with a song on your lips.\"\n\n\"If there werewolves hereabouts, we'd know it,\" groused Lem. \"Or lions. These are our woods.\"\n\n\"You never knew we were there,\" said Gendry.\n\n\"Now, lad, you shouldn't be so certain of that,\" said Tom. \"Sometimes a man knows more than he says.\"\n\nHot Pie shifted his seat. \"I know the song about the bear,\" he said. \"Some of it, anyhow.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tom ran his fingers down his strings. \"Then let's hear it, pie boy.\" He threw back his head and sang, \"A bear there was, a bear, a bear! All black and brown, and covered with hair...\"\n\nHot Pie joined in lustily, even bouncing in his saddle a little on the rhymes. Arya stared at him in astonishment. He had a good voice and he sang well. He never did anything well, except bake, she thought to herself.\n\nA small brook flowed into the Trident a little farther on. As they waded across, their singing flushed a duck from among the reeds. Anguy stopped where he stood, unslung his bow, notched an arrow, and brought it down. The bird fell in the shallows not far from the bank. Lem took off his yellow cloak and waded in knee-deep to retrieve it, complaining all the while. \"Do you think Sharna might have lemons down in that cellar of hers?\" said Anguy to Tomas they watched Lem splash around, cursing. \"A Dornish girl once cooked me duck with lemons.\" He sounded wistful.\n\nTom and Hot Pie resumed their song on the other side of the brook, with the duck hanging from Lem's belt beneath his yellow cloak. Somehow the singing made the miles seem shorter. It was not very long at all until the inn appeared before them, rising from the riverbank where the Trident made a great bend to the north. Arya squinted at it suspiciously as they neared. It did not look like an outlaws\" lair, she had to admit; it looked friendly, even homey, with its whitewashed upper story and slate roof and the smoke curling up lazy from its chimney. Stables and other outbuildings surrounded it, and there was an arbor in back, and apple trees, a small garden. The inn even had its own dock, thrusting out into the river, and..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Gendry,\" she called, her voice low and urgent."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They have a boat. We could sail the rest of the way up to Riverrun. It would be faster than riding, I think.\"\n\nHe looked dubious. \"Did you ever sail a boat?\"\n\n\"You put up the sail,\" she said, \"and the wind pushes it.\"\n\n\"What if the wind is blowing the wrong way?\"\n\n\"Then there's oars to row.\"\n\n\"Against the current?\" Gendry frowned. \"Wouldn't that be slow? And what if the boat tips over and we fall into the water? It's not our boat anyway, it's the inn's.\"\n\nWe could take it. Arya chewed her lip and said nothing. They dismounted in front of stables. There were no other horses to be seen, but Arya noticed fresh manure in many of the stalls. \"One of us should watch the horses,\" she said, wary.\n\nTom overheard her. \"There's no need for that, Squab. Come eat, they'll be safe enough.\"\n\n\"I'll stay,\" Gendry said, ignoring the singer. \"You can come get me after you've had some food.\"\n\nNodding, Arya set off after Hot Pie and Lem. Her sword was still in its sheath across her back, and she kept a hand close to the hilt of the dagger she had stolen from Roose Bolton, in case she didn't like whatever they found within.\n\nThe painted sign above the door showed a picture of some old king on his knees. Inside was the common room, where a very tall ugly woman with a knobby chin stood with her hands on her hips, glaring. \"Don't just stand there, boy,\" she snapped. \"Or are you a girl? Either one, you're blocking my door. Get in or get out. Lem, what did I tell you about my floor? You're all mud.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We shot a duck.\" Lem held it out like a peace banner.\n\nThe woman snatched it from his hand. \"Anguy shot a duck, is what you're meaning. Get your boots off, are you deaf or just stupid?\" She turned away. \"Husband!\" she called loudly. \"Getup here, the lads are back. Husband!\"\n\nUp the cellar steps came a man in a stained apron, grumbling. He was ahead shorter than the woman, with a lumpy face and loose yellowish skin that still showed the marks of some pox. \"I'm here, woman, quit your bellowing. What is it now?\"\n\n\"Hang this,\" she said, handing him the duck.\n\nAnguy shuffled his feet. \"We were thinking we might eat it, Sharna. With lemons. If you had some.\"\n\n\"Lemons. And where would we get lemons? Does this look like Dorne to you, you freckled fool? Why don't you hop outback to the lemon trees and pick us a bushel, and some nice olives and pomegranates too.\" She shook a finger at him. \"Now, I suppose I could cook it with Lem's cloak, if you like, but not till it's hung fora few days. You'll eat rabbit, or you won't eat. Roast rabbit on a spit would be quickest, if you've got a hunger. Or might be you'd like it stewed, with ale and onions.\"\n\nArya could almost taste the rabbit. \"We have no coin, but we brought some carrots and cabbages we could trade you.\"\n\n\"Did you now? And where would they be?\"\n\n\"Hot Pie, give her the cabbages,\" Arya said, and he did, though he approached the old woman as gingerly as if she were Rorge or Biter or Vargo Hoat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The woman gave the vegetables a close inspection, and the boy a closer one."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where is this hot pie?\"\n\n\"Here. Me. It's my name. And she's... ah... Squab.\"\n\n\"Not under my roof. I give my diners and my dishes different names, so as to tell them apart. Husband!\"\n\nHusband had stepped outside, but at her shout he hurried back. \"The duck's hung. What is it now, woman?\"\n\n\"Wash these vegetables,\" she commanded. \"The rest of you, sit down while I start the rabbits. The boy will bring you drink.\" She looked down her long nose at Arya and Hot Pie. \"I am not in the habit of serving ale to children, but the cider's run out, there's no cows for milk, and the river water tastes of war, with all the dead men drifting downstream. If I served you a cup of soup full of dead flies, would you drink it?\"\n\n\"Arry would,\" said Hot Pie. \"I mean, Squab.\"\n\n\"So would Lem,\" offered Anguy with a sly smile.\n\n\"Never you mind about Lem,\" Sharna said. \"It's ale for all.\" She swept off toward the kitchen.\n\nAnguy and Tom Sevenstrings took the table near the hearth while Lem was hanging his big yellow cloak on a peg. Hot Pie plopped down heavily on a bench at the table by the door, and Arya wedged herself in beside him.\n\nTom unslung his harp. \"A lonely inn on a forest road,\" he sang, slowly picking out a tune to go with the words. \"The innkeep's wife was plain as a toad.\"\n\n\"Shut up with that now or we won't begetting no rabbit,\" Lem warned him. \"You know how she is.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Arya leaned close to Hot Pie."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Can you sail a boat?\" she asked. Before he could answer, a thickset boy of fifteen or sixteen appeared with tankards of ale. Hot Pie took his reverently in both hands, and when he sipped he smiled wider than Arya had ever seen him smile. \"Ale,\" he whispered, \"and rabbit.\"\n\n\"Well, here's to His Grace,\" Anguy the Archer called out cheerfully, lifting a toast. \"Seven save the king!\"\n\n\"All twelve o' them,\" Lem Lemoncloak muttered. He drank, and wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand.\n\nHusband came bustling in through the front door, with an apron full of washed vegetables. \"There's strange horses in the stable,\" he announced, as if they hadn't known.\n\n\"Aye,\" said Tom, setting the woodharp aside, \"and better horses than the three you gave away.\"\n\nHusband dropped the vegetables on a table, annoyed. \"I never gave them away. I sold them fora good price, and got us a skiff as well. Anyways, you lot were supposed to get them back.\"\n\nI knew they were outlaws, Arya thought, listening. Her hand went under the table to touch the hilt of her dagger, and make sure it was still there. If they try to rob us, they'll be sorry.\n\n\"They never came our way,\" said Lem.\n\n\"Well, I sent them. You must have been drunk, or asleep.\"\n\n\"Us? Drunk?\" Tom drank along draught of ale. \"Never.\"\n\n\"You could have taken them yourself,\" Lem told Husband.\n\n\"What, with only the boy here? I told you twice, the old woman was up to Lambswold helping that Fern birth her babe. And like as not it was one o'you planted the bastard in the poor girl's belly.\" He gave Tom a sour look. \"You, I'd wager, with that harp o\" yours, singing all them sad songs just to get poor Fern out of her smallclothes.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"If a song makes a maid want to slip off her clothes and feel the good warm sun kiss her skin, why, is that the singer's fault?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "asked Tom. \"And'twas Anguy she fancied, besides. \"Can I touch your bow?\" I heard her ask him. \"Ooohh, it feels so smooth and hard. Could I give it a little pull, do you think?\"\"\n\nHusband snorted. \"You and Anguy, makes no matter which. You're as much to blame as me for them horses. They was three, you know. What can one man do against three?\"\n\n\"Three,\" said Lem scornfully, \"but one a woman and t'other in chains, you said so yourself.\"\n\nHusband made a face. \"A big woman, dressed like a man. And the one in chains... I didn't fancy the look of his eyes.\"\n\nAnguy smiled over his ale. \"When I don't fancy a man's eyes, I put an arrow through one.\"\n\nArya remembered the shaft that had brushed by her ear. She wished she knew how to shoot arrows.\n\nHusband was not impressed. \"You be quiet when your elders are talking. Drink your ale and mind your tongue, or I'll have the old woman take a spoon to you.\"\n\n\"My elders talk too much, and I don't need you to tell me to drink my ale.\" He took a big swallow, to show that it was so.\n\nArya did the same. After days of drinking from brooks and puddles, and then the muddy Trident, the ale tasted as good as the little sips of wine her father used to allow her. A smell was drifting out from the kitchen that made her mouth water, but her thoughts were still full of that boat. Sailing it will be harder than stealing it. If we wait until they're all asleep..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The serving boy reappeared with big round loaves of bread. Arya broke off a chunk hungrily and tore into it. It was hard to chew, though, sort of thick and lumpy, and burned on the bottom.\n\nHot Pie made a face as soon as he tasted it. \"That's bad bread,\" he said. \"It's burned, and tough besides.\"\n\n\"It's better when there's stew to sop up,\" said Lem.\n\n\"No, it isn't,\" said Anguy, \"but you're less like to break your teeth.\"\n\n\"You can eat it or go hungry,\" said Husband. \"Do I look like some bloody baker? I'd like to see you make better.\"\n\n\"I could,\" said Hot Pie. \"It's easy. You kneaded the dough too much, that's why it's so hard to chew.\" He took another sip of ale, and began talking lovingly of breads and pies and tarts, all the things he loved. Arya rolled her eyes.\n\nTom sat down across from her. \"Squab,\" he said, \"or Arry, or whatever your true name might be, this is for you.\" He placed a dirty scrap of parchment on the wooden tabletop between them.\n\nShe looked at it suspiciously. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Three golden dragons. We need to buy those horses.\"\n\nArya looked at him warily. \"They're our horses.\"\n\n\"Meaning you stole them yourselves, is that it? No shame in that, girl. War makes thieves of many honest folk.\" Tom tapped the folded parchment with his finger. \"I'm paying you a handsome price. More than any horse is worth, if truth be told.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Hot Pie grabbed the parchment and unfolded it."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's no gold,\" he complained loudly. \"It's only writing.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Tom, \"and I'm sorry for that. But after the war, we mean to make that good, you have my word as a king's man.\"\n\nArya pushed back from the table and got to her feet. \"You're no king's men, you're robbers.\"\n\n\"If you'd ever meta true robber, you'd know they do not pay, not even in paper. It's not for us we take your horses, child, it's for the good of the realm, so we can get about more quickly and fight the fights that need fighting. The king's fights. Would you deny the king?\"\n\nThey were all watching her; the Archer, big Lem, Husband with his sallow face and shifty eyes. Even Sharna, who stood in the door to the kitchen squinting. They are going to take our horses no matter what I say, she realized. We'll need to walk to Riverrun, unless...\"We don't want paper.\" Arya slapped the parchment out of Hot Pie's hand. \"You can have our horses for that boat outside. But only if you show us how to work it.\"\n\nTom Sevenstrings stared at her a moment, and then his wide homely mouth quirked into a rueful grin. He laughed aloud. Anguy joined in, and then they were all laughing, Lem Lemoncloak, Sharna and Husband, even the serving boy, who had stepped out from behind the casks with a crossbow under one arm. Arya wanted to scream at them, but instead she started to smile...\n\n\"Riders!\" Gendry's shout was shrill with alarm. The door burst open and there he was. \"Soldiers,\" he panted. \"Coming down the river road, a dozen of them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hot Pie leapt up, knocking over his tankard, but Tom and the others were unpertubed. \"There's no cause for spilling good ale on my floor,\" said Sharna. \"Sit back down and calm yourself, boy, there's rabbit coming. You too, girl. Whatever harm's been done you, it's over and it's done and you're with king's men now. We'll keep you safe as best we can.\"\n\nArya's only answer was to reach over her shoulder for her sword, but before she had it halfway drawn Lem grabbed her wrist. \"We'll have no more of that, now.\" He twisted her arm until her hand opened. His fingers were hard with callus and fearsomely strong. Again! Arya thought. It's happening again, like it happened in the village, with Chiswyck and Raff and the Mountain That Rides. They were going to steal her sword and turn her back into a mouse. Her freehand closed around her tankard, and she swung it at Lem's face. The ale sloshed over the rim and splashed into his eyes, and she heard his nose break and saw the spurt of blood. When he roared his hands went to his face, and she was free. \"Run!\" she screamed, bolting.\n\nBut Lem was on her again at once, with his long legs that made one of his steps equal to three of hers. She twisted and kicked, but he yanked her off her feet effortlessly and held her dangling while the blood ran down his face.\n\n\"Stop it, you little fool,\" he shouted, shaking her back and forth. \"Stop it now!\" Gendry moved to help her, until Tom Sevenstrings stepped in front of him with a dagger.\n\nBy then it was too late to flee. She could hear horses outside, and the sound of men's voices. A moment later a man came swaggering through the open door, a Tyroshi even bigger than Lem with a great thick beard, bright green at the ends but growing out grey. Behind came a pair of crossbowmen helping a wounded man between them, and then others..."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A more ragged band Arya had never seen, but there was nothing ragged about the swords, axes, and bows they carried. One or two gave her curious glances as they entered, but no one said a word. A one-eyed man in a rusty pothelm sniffed the air and grinned, while an archer with ahead of stiff yellow hair was shouting for ale. After them came a spearman in a lion-crested helm, an older man with a limp, a Braavosi sellsword, a...\n\n\"Harwin?\" Arya whispered. It was! Under the beard and the tangled hair was the face of Hullen's son, who used to lead her pony around the yard, ride at quintain with Jon and Robb, and drink too much on feast days. He was thinner, harder somehow, and at Winterfell he had never worn a beard, but it was him-her father's man. \"Harwin!\" Squirming, she threw herself forward, trying to wrench free of Lem's iron grip. \"It's me,\" she shouted, \"Harwin, it's me, don't you know me, don't you?\" The tears came, and she found herself weeping like a baby, just like some stupid little girl. \"Harwin, it's me!\"\n\nHarwin's eyes went from her face to the flayed man on her doublet. \"How do you know me?\" he said, frowning suspiciously. \"The flayed man... who are you, some serving boy to Lord Leech?\"\n\nFora moment she did not know how to answer. She'd had so many names. Had she only dreamed Arya Stark? \"I'm a girl,\" she sniffed. \"I was Lord Bolton's cupbearer but he was going to leave me for the goat, so Iran off with Gendry and Hot Pie. You have to know me! You used to lead my pony, when I was little.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His eyes went wide, \"Gods be good,\" he said in a choked voice. \"Arya Underfoot? Lem, let goof her.\"\n\n\"She broke my nose.\" Lem dumped her unceremoniously to the floor. \"Who in seven hells is she supposed to be?\"\n\n\"The Hand's daughter.\" Harwin went to one knee before her. \"Arya Stark, of Winterfell.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "CATELYN\n\nRobb, she knew, the moment she heard the kennels erupt.\n\nHer son had returned to Riverrun, and Grey Wind with him. Only the scent of the great grey direwolf could send the hounds into such a frenzy of baying and barking. He will come tome, she knew. Edmure had not returned after his first visit, preferring to spend his days with Marq Piper and Patrek Mallister, listening to Rymund the Rhymer's verses about the battle at the Stone Mill. Robb is not Edmure, though. Robb will see me.\n\nIt had been raining for days now, a cold grey downpour that well suited Catelyn's mood. Her father was growing weaker and more delirious with every passing day, waking only to mutter, \"Tansy,\" and beg forgiveness. Edmure shunned her, and Ser Desmond Grell still denied her freedom of the castle, however unhappy it seemed to make him. Only the return of Ser Robin Ryger and his men, footweary and drenched to the bone, served to lighten her spirits. They had walked back, it seemed. Somehow the Kingslayer had contrived to sink their galley and escape, Maester Vyman confided. Catelyn asked if she might speak with Ser Robin to learn more of what had happened, but that was refused her.\n\nSomething else was wrong as well. On the day her brother returned, a few hours after their argument, she had heard angry voices from the yard below. When she climbed to the roof to see, there were knots of men gathered across the castle beside the main gate. Horses were being led from the stables, saddled and bridled, and there was shouting, though Catelyn was too faraway to make out the words. One of Robb's white banners lay on the ground, and one of the knights turned his horse and trampled over the direwolf as he spurred toward the gate. Several others did the same. Those are men who fought with Edmure on the fords, she thought. What could have made them so angry? Has my brother slighted them somehow, given them some insult? She thought she recognized Ser Perwyn Frey, who had traveled with her to Bitterbridge and Storm's End and back, and his bastard half brother Martyn Rivers as well, but from this vantage it was hard to be certain. Close to forty men poured out through the castle gates, to what end she did not know."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They did not comeback. Nor would Maester Vyman tell her who they had been, where they had gone, or what had made them so angry. \"I am hereto see to your father, and only that, my lady,\" he said. \"Your brother will soon be Lord of Riverrun. What he wishes you to know, he must tell you.\"\n\nBut now Robb was returned from the west, returned in triumph. He will forgive me, Catelyn told herself. He must forgive me, he is my own son, and Arya and Sansa areas much his blood as mine. He will free me from these rooms and then I will know what has happened.\n\nBy the time Ser Desmond came for her, she had bathed and dressed and combed out her auburn hair. \"King Robb has returned from the west, my lady,\" the knight said, \"and commands that you attend him in the Great Hall.\"\n\nIt was the moment she had dreamt of and dreaded. Have I lost two sons, or three? She would know soon enough.\n\nThe hall was crowded when they entered. Every eye was on the dais, but Catelyn knew their backs: Lady Mormont's patched ringmail, the Greatjon and his son looming above every other head in the hall, Lord Jason Mallister white-haired with his winged helm in the crook of his arm, Tytos Blackwood in his magnificent raven-feather cloak... Half of them will want to hang me now. The other half may only turn their eyes away. She had the uneasy feeling that someone was missing, too.\n\nRobb stood on the dais. He is a boy no longer, she realized with a pang. He is sixteen now, a man grown. Just look at him. War had melted all the softness from his face and left him hard and lean. He had shaved his beard away, but his auburn hair fell uncut to his shoulders. The recent rains had rusted his mail and left brown stains on the white of his cloak and surcoat. Or perhaps the stains were blood. On his head was the sword crown they had fashioned him of bronze andiron. He bears it more comfortably now. He bears it like a king."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Edmure stood below the crowded dais, head bowed modestly as Robb praised his victory. \"... fell at the Stone Mill shall never be forgotten. Small wonder Lord Tywin ran off to fight Stannis. He'd had his fill of northmen and rivermen both.\" That brought laughter and approving shouts, but Robb raised a hand for quiet. \"Make no mistake, though. The Lannisters will march again, and there will be other battles to win before the kingdom is secure.\"\n\nThe Greatjon roared out, \"King in the North!\" and thrust a mailed fist into the air. The river lords answered with a shout of'King of the Trident!\" The hall grew thunderous with pounding fists and stamping feet.\n\nOnly a few noted Catelyn and Ser Desmond amidst the tumult, but they elbowed their fellows, and slowly a hush grew around her. She held her head high and ignored the eyes. Let them think what they will. It is Robb's judgment that matters.\n\nThe sight of Ser Brynden Tully's craggy face on the dais gave her comfort. A boy she did not know seemed to be acting as Robb's squire. Behind him stood a young knight in a sand-colored surcoat blazoned with seashells, and an older one who wore three black pepperpots on a saffron bend, across afield of green and silver stripes. Between them were a handsome older lady and a pretty maid who looked to be her daughter. There was another girl as well, near Sansa's age. The seashells were the sigil of some lesser house, Catelyn knew; the older man's she did not recognize. Prisoners? Why would Robb bring captives onto the dais?\n\nUtherydes Wayn banged his staff on the floor as Ser Desmond escorted her forward. If Robb looks at meas Edmure did, I do not know what I will do. But it seemed to her that it was not anger she saw in her son's eyes, but something else... apprehension, perhaps? No, that made no sense. What should he fear? He was the Young Wolf, King of the Trident and the North."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her uncle was the first to greet her. As black a fish as ever, Ser Brynden had no care for what others might think. He leapt off the dais and pulled Catelyn into his arms. When he said, \"It is good to see you home, Cat,\" she had to struggle to keep her composure. \"And you,\" she whispered.\n\n\"Mother.\"\n\nCatelyn looked up at her tall kingly son. \"Your Grace, I have prayed for your safe return. I had heard you were wounded.\"\n\n\"I took an arrow through the arm while storming the Crag,\" he said. \"It's healed well, though. I had the best of care.\"\n\n\"The gods are good, then.\" Catelyn took a deep breath. Say it. It cannot be avoided. \"They will have told you what I did. Did they tell you my reasons?\"\n\n\"For the girls.\"\n\n\"I had five children. Now I have three.\"\n\n\"Aye, my lady.\" Lord Rickard Karstark pushed past the Greatjon, like some grim specter with his blackmail and long ragged grey beard, his narrow face pinched and cold. \"And I have one son, who once had three. You have robbed me of my vengeance.\"\n\nCatelyn faced him calmly. \"Lord Rickard, the Kingslayer's dying would not have bought life for your children. His living may buy life for mine.\"\n\nThe lord was unappeased. \"Jaime Lannister has played you fora fool. You've bought a bag of empty words, no more. My Torrhen and my Eddard deserved better of you.\"\n\n\"Leave off, Karstark,\" rumbled the Greatjon, crossing his huge arms against his chest. \"It was a mother's folly. Women are made that way.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A mother's folly?\" Lord Karstark rounded on Lord Umber. \"I name it treason.\"\n\n\"Enough.\" For just an instant Robb sounded more like Brandon than his father. \"No man calls my lady of Winterfell a traitor in my hearing, Lord Rickard.\" When he turned to Catelyn, his voice softened. \"If I could wish the Kingslayer back in chains I would. You freed him without my knowledge or consent... but what you did, I know you did for love. For Arya and Sansa, and out of grief for Bran and Rickon. Love's not always wise, I've learned. It can lead us to great folly, but we follow our hearts... wherever they take us. Don't we, Mother?\"\n\nIs that what I did? \"If my heart led me into folly, I would gladly make whatever amends I canto Lord Karstark and yourself.\"\n\nLord Rickard's face was implacable. \"Will your amends warm Torrhen and Eddard in the cold graves where the Kingslayer laid them?\" He shouldered between the Greatjon and Maege Mormont and left the hall.\n\nRobb made no move to detain him. \"Forgive him, Mother.\"\n\n\"If you will forgive me.\"\n\n\"I have. I know what it is to love so greatly you can think of nothing else.\"\n\nCatelyn bowed her head. \"Thank you.\" I have not lost this child, at least.\n\n\"We must talk,\" Robb went on. \"You and my uncles. Of this and... other things. Steward, call an end.\"\n\nUtherydes Wayn slammed his staff on the floor and shouted the dismissal, and river lords and northerners alike moved toward the doors. It was only then that Catelyn realized what was amiss. The wolf. The wolf is not here. Where is Grey Wind? She knew the direwolf had returned with Robb, she had heard the dogs, but he was not in the hall, not at her son's side where he belonged."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Before she could think to question Robb, however, she found herself surrounded by a circle of well-wishers. Lady Mormont took her hand and said, \"My lady, if Cersei Lannister held two of my daughters, I would have done the same.\" The Greatjon, no respecter of proprieties, lifted her off her feet and squeezed her arms with his huge hairy hands. \"Your wolf pup mauled the Kingslayer once, he'll do it again if need be.\" Galbart Glover and Lord Jason Mallister were cooler, and Jonos Bracken almost icy, but their words were courteous enough. Her brother was the last to approach her. \"I pray for your girls as well, Cat. I hope you do not doubt that.\"\n\n\"Of course not.\" She kissed him. \"I love you for it.\"\n\nWhen all the words were done, the Great Hall of Riverrun was empty save for Robb, the three Tullys, and the six strangers Catelyn could not place. She eyed them curiously. \"My lady, sers, are you new to my son's cause?\"\n\n\"New,\" said the younger knight, him of the seashells, \"but fierce in our courage and firm in our loyalties, as I hope to prove to you, my lady.\"\n\nRobb looked uncomfortable. \"Mother,\" he said, \"may I present the Lady Sybell, the wife of Lord Gawen Westerling of the Crag.\" The older woman came forward with solemn mien. \"Her husband was one of those we took captive in the Whispering Wood.\"\n\nWesterling, yes, Catelyn thought. Their banner is six seashells, white on sand. A minor house sworn to the Lannisters.\n\nRobb beckoned the other strangers forward, each in turn. \"Ser Rolph Spicer, Lady Sybell's brother. He was castellan at the Crag when we took it.\" The pepperpot knight inclined his head. A square-built man with a broken nose and a close-cropped grey beard, he looked doughty enough. \"The children of Lord Gawen and Lady Sybell. Ser Raynald Westerling.\" The seashell knight smiled beneath a bushy mustache. Young, lean, rough-hewn, he had good teeth and a thick mop of chestnut hair. \"Elenya.\" The little girl did a quick curtsy. \"Rollam Westerling, my squire.\" The boy started to kneel, saw no one else was kneeling, and bowed instead."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The honor is mine,\" Catelyn said. Can Robb have won the Crag's allegiance? If so, it was no wonder the Westerlings were with him. Casterly Rock did not suffer such betrayals gently. Not since Tywin Lannister had been old enough to go to war...\n\nThe maid came forward last, and very shy. Robb took her hand. \"Mother,\" he said, \"I have the great honor to present you the Lady Jeyne Westerling. Lord Gawen's elder daughter, and my... ah... my lady wife.\"\n\nThe first thought that flew across Catelyn's mind was, No, that cannot be, you are only a child.\n\nThe second was, And besides, you have pledged another.\n\nThe third was, Mother have mercy, Robb, what have you done?\n\nOnly then came her belated remembrance. Follies done for love? He has bagged me neat as a hare in a snare. I seem to have already forgiven him. Mixed with her annoyance was a rueful admiration; the scene had been staged with the cunning worthy of a master mummer... or a king. Catelyn saw no choice but to take Jeyne Westerling's hands. \"I have anew daughter,\" she said, more stiffly than she'd intended. She kissed the terrified girl on both cheeks. \"Be welcome to our hall and hearth.\"\n\n\"Thank you, my lady. I shall be a good and true wife to Robb, I swear. And as wise a queen as I can.\"\n\nQueen. Yes, this pretty little girl is a queen, I must remember that. She was pretty, undeniably, with her chestnut curls and heart-shaped face, and that shy smile. Slender, but with good hips, Catelyn noted. She should have no trouble bearing children, at least."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lady Sybell took a hand before anymore was said. \"We are honored to be joined to House Stark, my lady, but we are also very weary. We have come along way in a short time. Perhaps we might retire to our chambers, so you may visit with your son?\"\n\n\"That would be best.\" Robb kissed his Jeyne. \"The steward will find you suitable accommodations.\"\n\n\"I'll take you to him,\" Ser Edmure Tully volunteered.\n\n\"You are most kind,\" said Lady Sybell.\n\n\"Must I go too?\" asked the boy, Rollam. \"I'm your squire.\"\n\nRobb laughed. \"But I'm not in need of squiring just now.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\n\"His Grace has gotten along for sixteen years without you, Rollam,\" said Ser Raynald of the seashells. \"He will survive a few hours more, I think.\" Taking his little brother firmly by the hand, he walked him from the hall.\n\n\"Your wife is lovely,\" Catelyn said when they were out of earshot, \"and the Westerlings seem worthy... though Lord Gawen is Tywin Lannister's sworn man, is he not?\"\n\n\"Yes. Jason Mallister captured him in the Whispering Wood and has been holding him at Seagard for ransom. Of course I'll free him now, though he may not wish to join me. We wed without his consent, I fear, and this marriage puts him in dire peril. The Crag is not strong. For love of me, Jeyne may lose all.\"\n\n\"And you,\" she said softly, \"have lost the Freys.\"\n\nHis wince told all. She understood the angry voices now, why Perwyn Frey and Martyn Rivers had left in such haste, trampling Robb's banner into the ground as they went."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Dare I ask how many swords come with your bride, Robb?\"\n\n\"Fifty. A dozen knights.\" His voice was glum, as well it might be. When the marriage contract had been made at the Twins, old Lord Walder Frey had sent Robb off with a thousand mounted knights and near three thousand foot. \"Jeyne is bright as well as beautiful. And kind as well. She has a gentle heart.\"\n\nIt is swords you need, not gentle hearts. How could you do this, Robb? How could you be so heedless, so stupid? How could you be so... so very... young. Reproaches would not serve here, however. All she said was, \"Tell me how this came to be.\"\n\n\"I took her castle and she took my heart.\" Robb smiled. \"The Crag was weakly garrisoned, so we took it by storm one night. Black Walder and the Smalljon led scaling parties over the walls, while I broke the main gate with a ram. I took an arrow in the arm just before Ser Rolph yielded us the castle. It seemed nothing at first, but it festered. Jeyne had me taken to her own bed, and she nursed me until the fever passed. And she was with me when the Greatjon brought me the news of... of Winterfell. Bran and Rickon.\" He seemed to have trouble saying his brothers' names. \"That night, she... she comforted me, Mother.\"\n\nCatelyn did not need to be told what sort of comfort Jeyne Westerling had offered her son. \"And you wed her the next day.\"\n\nHe looked her in the eyes, proud and miserable all at once. \"It was the only honorable thing to do. She's gentle and sweet, Mother, she will make me a good wife.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perhaps. That will not appease Lord Frey.\"\n\n\"I know,\" her son said, stricken. \"I've made a botch of everything but the battles, haven't I? I thought the battles would be the hard part, but... if I had listened to you and kept Theon as my hostage, I'd still rule the north, and Bran and Rickon would be alive and safe in Winterfell.\"\n\n\"Perhaps. Or not. Lord Balon might still have chanced war. The last time he reached fora crown, it cost him two sons. He might have thought it a bargain to lose only one this time.\" She touched his arm. \"What happened with the Freys, after you wed?\"\n\nRobb shook his head. \"With Ser Stevron, I might have been able to make amends, but Ser Ryman is dull-witted as a stone, and Black Walder... that one was not named for the color of his beard, I promise you. He went so far as to say that his sisters would not be loath towed a widower. I would have killed him for that if Jeyne had not begged me to be merciful.\"\n\n\"You have done House Freya grievous insult, Robb.\"\n\n\"I never meant to. Ser Stevron died for me, and Olyvar was as loyal a squire as any king could want. He asked to stay with me, but Ser Ryman took him with the rest. All their strength. The Greatjon urged me to attack them...\"\n\n\"Fighting your own in the midst of your enemies?\" she said. \"It would have been the end of you.\"\n\n\"Yes. I thought perhaps we could arrange other matches for Lord Walder's daughters. Ser Wendel Manderly has offered to take one, and the Greatjon tells me his uncles wish towed again. If Lord Walder will be reasonable-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"He is not reasonable,\" said Catelyn."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He is proud, and prickly to a fault. You know that. He wanted to be grandfather to a king. You will not appease him with the offer of two hoary old brigands and the second son of the fattest man in the Seven Kingdoms. Not only have you broken your oath, but you've slighted the honor of the Twins by choosing a bride from a lesser house.\"\n\nRobb bristled at that. \"The Westerlings are better blood than the Freys. They're an ancient line, descended from the First Men. The Kings of the Rock sometimes wed Westerlings before the Conquest, and there was another Jeyne Westerling who was queen to King Maegor three hundred years ago.\"\n\n\"All of which will only salt Lord Walder's wounds. It has always rankled him that older houses look down on the Freys as upstarts. This insult is not the first he's borne, to hear him tell it. Jon Arryn was disinclined to foster his grandsons, and my father refused the offer of one of his daughters for Edmure.\" She inclined her head toward her brother as he rejoined them.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Brynden Blackfish said, \"perhaps we had best continue this in private.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Robb sounded tired. \"I would kill fora cup of wine. The audience chamber, I think.\"\n\nAs they started up the steps, Catelyn asked the question that had been troubling her since she entered the hall. \"Robb, where is Grey Wind?\"\n\n\"In the yard, with a haunch of mutton. I told the kennelmaster to see that he was fed.\"\n\n\"You always kept him with you before.\"\n\n\"A hall is no place fora wolf. He gets restless, you've seen. Growling and snapping. I should never have taken him into battle with me. He's killed too many men to fear them now. Jeyne's anxious around him, and he terrifies her mother.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And there's the heart of it, Catelyn thought."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He is part of you, Robb. To fear him is to fear you.\"\n\n\"I am not a wolf, no matter what they call me.\" Robb sounded cross. \"Grey Wind killed a man at the Crag, another at Ashemark, and six or seven at Oxcross. If you had seen-\"\n\n\"I saw Bran's wolf tear out a man's throat at Winterfell,\" she said sharply, \"and loved him for it.\"\n\n\"That's different. The man at the Crag was a knight Jeyne had known all her life. You can't blame her for being afraid. Grey Wind doesn't like her uncle either. He bares his teeth every time Ser Rolph comes near him.\"\n\nA chill went through her. \"Send Ser Rolph away. At once.\"\n\n\"Where? Back to the Crag, so the Lannisters can mount his head on a spike? Jeyne loves him. He's her uncle, and a fair knight besides. I need more men like Rolph Spicer, not fewer. I am not going to banish him just because my wolf doesn't seem to like the way he smells.\"\n\n\"Robb.\" She stopped and held his arm. \"I told you once to keep Theon Greyjoy close, and you did not listen. Listen now. Send this man away. I am not saying you must banish him. Find some task that requires a man of courage, some honorable duty, what it is matters not... but do not keep him near you.\"\n\nHe frowned. \"Should I have Grey Wind sniff all my knights? There might be others whose smell he mislikes.\"\n\n\"Any man Grey Wind mislikes is a man I do not want close to you. These wolves are more than wolves, Robb. You must know that. I think perhaps the gods sent them to us. Your father's gods, the old gods of the north. Five wolf pups, Robb, five for five Stark children.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Six,\" said Robb. \"There was a wolf for Jonas well. I found them, remember? I know how many there were and where they came from. I used to think the same as you, that the wolves were our guardians, our protectors, until...\"\n\n\"Until?\" she prompted.\n\nRobb's mouth tightened. \".... until they told me that Theon had murdered Bran and Rickon. Small good their wolves did them. I am no longer a boy, Mother. I'm a king, and I can protect myself.\" He sighed. \"I will find some duty for Ser Rolph, some pretext to send him away. Not because of his smell, but to ease your mind. You have suffered enough.\"\n\nRelieved, Catelyn kissed him lightly on the cheek before the others could come around the turn of the stair, and fora moment he washer boy again, and not her king.\n\nLord Hoster's private audience chamber was a small room above the Great Hall, better suited to intimate discussions. Robb took the high seat, removed his crown, and set it on the floor beside him as Catelyn rang for wine. Edmure was filling his uncle's ear with the whole story of the fight at the Stone Mill. It was only after the servants had come and gone that the Blackfish cleared his throat and said, \"I think we've all heard sufficient of your boasting, Nephew.\"\n\nEdmure was taken aback. \"Boasting? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean,\" said the Blackfish, \"that you owe His Grace your thanks for his forbearance. He played out that mummer's farce in the Great Hall so as not to shame you before your own people. Had it been me I would have flayed you for your stupidity rather than praising this folly of the fords.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Good men died to defend those fords, Uncle.\" Edmure sounded outraged. \"What, is no one to win victories but the Young Wolf? Did I steal some glory meant for you, Robb?\"\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Robb corrected, icy. \"You took me for your king, Uncle. Or have you forgotten that as well?\"\n\nThe Blackfish said, \"You were commanded to hold Riverrun, Edmure, no more.\"\n\n\"I held Riverrun, and I bloodied Lord Tywin's nose-\"\n\n\"So you did,\" said Robb. \"But a bloody nose won't win the war, will it? Did you ever think to ask yourself why we remained in the west so long after Oxcross? You knew I did not have enough men to threaten Lannisport or Casterly Rock.\"\n\n\"Why... there were other castles... gold, cattle...\"\n\n\"You think we stayed for plunder?\" Robb was incredulous. \"Uncle, I wanted Lord Tywin to come west.\"\n\n\"We were all horsed,\" Ser Brynden said. \"The Lannister host was mainly foot. We planned to run Lord Tywin a merry chase up and down the coast, then slip behind him to take up a strong defensive position athwart the gold road, at a place my scouts had found where the ground would have been greatly in our favor. If he had come at us there, he would have paid a grievous price. But if he did not attack, he would have been trapped in the west, a thousand leagues from where he needed to be. All the while we would have lived off his land, instead of him living off ours.\"\n\n\"Lord Stannis was about to fall upon King's Landing,\" Robb said. \"He might have rid us of Joffrey, the queen, and the Imp in one red stroke. Then we might have been able to make a peace.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Edmure looked from uncle to nephew. \"You never told me.\"\n\n\"I told you to hold Riverrun,\" said Robb. \"What part of that command did you fail to comprehend?\"\n\n\"When you stopped Lord Tywin on the Red Fork,\" said the Blackfish, \"you delayed him just long enough for riders out of Bitterbridge to reach him with word of what was happening to the east. Lord Tywin turned his host at once, joined up with Matthis Rowan and Randyll Tarly near the headwaters of the Blackwater, and made a forced march to Tumbler's Falls, where he found Mace Tyrell and two of his sons waiting with a huge host and a fleet of barges. They floated down the river, disembarked half a day's ride from the city, and took Stannis in the rear.\"\n\nCatelyn remembered King Renly's court, as she had seen it at Bitterbridge. A thousand golden roses streaming in the wind, Queen Margaery's shy smile and soft words, her brother the Knight of Flowers with the bloody linen around his temples. If you had to fall into a woman's arms, my son, why couldn't they have been Margaery Tyrell's? The wealth and power of Highgarden could have made all the difference in the fighting yet to come. And perhaps Grey Wind would have liked the smell of her as well.\n\nEdmure looked ill. \"I never meant... never, Robb, you must let me make amends. I will lead the van in the next battle!\"\n\nFor amends, Brother? Or for glory? Catelyn wondered.\n\n\"The next battle,\" Robb said. \"Well, that will be soon enough. Once Joffrey is wed, the Lannisters will take the field against me once more, I don't doubt, and this time the Tyrells will march beside them. And I may need to fight the Freys as well, if Black Walder has his way...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So long as Theon Greyjoy sits in your father's seat with your brothers\" blood on his hands, these other foes must wait,\" Catelyn told her son. \"Your first duty is to defend your own people, win back Winterfell, and hang Theon in a crow's cage to die slowly. Or else put off that crown for good, Robb, for men will know that you are no true king at all.\"\n\nFrom the way Robb looked at her, she could tell that it had been along while since anyone had dared speak to him so bluntly. \"When they told me Winterfell had fallen, I wanted to go north at once,\" he said, with a hint of defensiveness. \"I wanted to free Bran and Rickon, but I thought... I never dreamed that Theon could harm them, truly. If I had...\"\n\n\"It is too late for ifs, and too late for rescues,\" Catelyn said. \"All that remains is vengeance.\"\n\n\"The last word we had from the north, Ser Rodrik had defeated a force of ironmen near Torrhen's Square, and was assembling a host at Castle Cerwyn to retake Winterfell,\" said Robb. \"By now he may have done it. There has been no news fora long while. And what of the Trident, if I turn north? I can't ask the river lords to abandon their own people.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Catelyn. \"Leave them to guard their own, and win back the north with northmen.\"\n\n\"How will you get the northmen to the north?\" her brother Edmure asked. \"The ironmen control the sunset sea. The Greyjoys hold Moat Cailin as well. No army has ever taken Moat Cailin from the south. Even to march against it is madness. We could be trapped on the causeway, with the ironborn before us and angry Freys at our backs.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We must win back the Freys,\" said Robb. \"With them, we still have some chance of success, however small. Without them, I see no hope. I am willing to give Lord Walder whatever he requires... apologies, honors, lands, gold... there must be something that would soothe his pride...\"\n\n\"Not something,\" said Catelyn. \"Someone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JON\n\nBig enough for you?\" Snowflakes speckled Tormund's broad face, melting in his hair and beard.\n\nThe giants swayed slowly atop the mammoths as they rode past two by two. Jon's garron shied, frightened by such strangeness, but whether it was the mammoths or their riders that scared him it was hard to say. Even Ghost backed off a step, baring his teeth in a silent snarl. The direwolf was big, but the mammoths were a deal bigger, and there were many and more of them.\n\nJon took the horse in hand and held him still, so he could count the giants emerging from the blowing snow and pale mists that swirled along the Milkwater. He was well beyond fifty when Tormund said something and he lost the count. There must be hundreds. No matter how many went past, they just seemed to keep coming.\n\nIn Old Nan's stories, giants were outsized men who lived in colossal castles, fought with huge swords, and walked about in boots a boy could hide in. These were something else, more bearlike than human, and as wooly as the mammoths they rode. Seated, it was hard to say how big they truly were. Ten feet tall maybe, or twelve, Jon thought. Maybe fourteen, but no taller. Their sloping chests might have passed for those of men, but their arms hung down too far, and their lower torsos looked half again as wide as their upper. Their legs were shorter than their arms, but very thick, and they wore no boots at all; their feet were broad splayed things, hard and horny and black. Neckless, their huge heavy heads thrust forward from between their shoulder blades, and their faces were squashed and brutal. Rats\" eyes no larger than beads were almost lost within folds of horny flesh, but they snuffled constantly, smelling as much as they saw."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They're not wearing skins, Jon realized. That's hair. Shaggy pelts covered their bodies, thick below the waist, sparser above. The stink that came off them was choking, but perhaps that was the mammoths. And Joramun blew the Horn of Winter, and woke giants from the earth. He looked for great swords ten feet long, but saw only clubs. Most were just the limbs of dead trees, some still trailing shattered branches. A few had stone balls lashed to the ends to make colossal mauls. The song never says if the horn can put them back to sleep.\n\nOne of the giants coming upon them looked older than the rest. His pelt was grey and streaked with white, and the mammoth he rode, larger than any of the others, was grey and white as well. Tormund shouted something up to him as he passed, harsh clanging words in a tongue that Jon did not comprehend. The giant's lips split apart to reveal a mouth full of huge square teeth, and he made a sound half belch and half rumble. After a moment Jon realized he was laughing. The mammoth turned its massive head to regard the two of them briefly, one huge tusk passing over the top of Jon's head as the beast lumbered by, leaving huge footprints in the soft mud and fresh snow along the river. The giant shouted down something in the same coarse tongue that Tormund had used.\n\n\"Was that their king?\" asked Jon.\n\n\"Giants have no kings, no more'n mammoths do, nor snow bears, nor the great whales o\" the grey sea. That was Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg. Mag the Mighty. You can kneel to him if you like, he won't mind. I know your kneeler's knees must be itching, for want of some king to bend to. Watch out he don't step on you, though. Giants have bad eyes, and might be he wouldn't see some little crow all the way down thereby his feet.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What did you say to him?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Was that the Old Tongue?\"\n\n\"Aye. I asked him if that was his father he was forking, they looked so much alike, except his father had a better smell.\"\n\n\"And what did he say to you?\"\n\nTormund Thunderfist cracked a gap-toothed smile. \"He asked me if that was my daughter riding there beside me, with her smooth pink cheeks.\" The wildling shook snow from his arm and turned his horse about. \"It maybe he never saw a man without a beard before. Come, we start back. Mance grows sore wroth when I'm not found in my accustomed place.\"\n\nJon wheeled and followed Tormund back toward the head of the column, his new cloak hanging heavy from his shoulders. It was made of unwashed sheepskins, worn fleece side in, as the wildlings suggested. It kept the snow off well enough, and at night it was good and warm, but he kept his black cloak as well, folded up beneath his saddle. \"Is it true you killed a giant once?\" he asked Tormund as they rode. Ghost loped silently beside them, leaving paw prints in the new-fallen snow.\n\n\"Now why would you doubt a mighty manlike me? It was winter and I was half a boy, and stupid the way boys are. I went too far and my horse died and then a storm caught me. A true storm, not no little dusting such as this. Har! I knew I'd freeze to death before it broke. So I found me a sleeping giant, cut open her belly, and crawled upright inside her. Kept me warm enough, she did, but the stink near did for me. The worst thing was, she woke up when the spring come and took me for her babe. Suckled me for three whole moons before I could getaway. Har! There's times I miss the taste o'giant's milk, though.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Co-write with the author and continue the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 17"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What did you say to him?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Was that the Old Tongue?\"\n\n\"Aye. I asked him if that was his father he was forking, they looked so much alike, except his father had a better smell.\"\n\n\"And what did he say to you?\"\n\nTormund Thunderfist cracked a gap-toothed smile. \"He asked me if that was my daughter riding there beside me, with her smooth pink cheeks.\" The wildling shook snow from his arm and turned his horse about. \"It maybe he never saw a man without a beard before. Come, we start back. Mance grows sore wroth when I'm not found in my accustomed place.\"\n\nJon wheeled and followed Tormund back toward the head of the column, his new cloak hanging heavy from his shoulders. It was made of unwashed sheepskins, worn fleece side in, as the wildlings suggested. It kept the snow off well enough, and at night it was good and warm, but he kept his black cloak as well, folded up beneath his saddle. \"Is it true you killed a giant once?\" he asked Tormund as they rode. Ghost loped silently beside them, leaving paw prints in the new-fallen snow.\n\n\"Now why would you doubt a mighty manlike me? It was winter and I was half a boy, and stupid the way boys are. I went too far and my horse died and then a storm caught me. A true storm, not no little dusting such as this. Har! I knew I'd freeze to death before it broke. So I found me a sleeping giant, cut open her belly, and crawled upright inside her. Kept me warm enough, she did, but the stink near did for me. The worst thing was, she woke up when the spring come and took me for her babe. Suckled me for three whole moons before I could getaway. Har! There's times I miss the taste o'giant's milk, though.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If she nursed you, you couldn't have killed her.\"\n\n\"I never did, but see you don't go spreading that about. Tormund Giantsbane has a better ring to it than Tormund Giantsbabe, and that's the honest truth o' it.\"\n\n\"So how did you come by your other names?\" Jon asked. \"Mance called you the Horn-Blower, didn't he? Mead-king of Ruddy Hall, Husband to Bears, Father to Hosts?\" It was the horn blowing he particularly wanted to hear about, but he dared not ask too plainly. And Joramun blew the Horn of Winter, and woke giants from the earth. Is that where they had come from, them and their mammoths? Had Mance Rayder found the Horn of Joramun, and given it to Tormund Thunderfist to blow?\n\n\"Are all crows so curious?\" asked Tormund. \" Well, here's a tale for you. It were another winter, colder even than the one I spent inside that giant, and snowing day and night, snowflakes as big as your head, not these little things. It snowed so hard the whole village was half buried. I was in me Ruddy Hall, with only a cask o\" mead to keep me company and nothing to do but drink it. The more I drank the more I got to thinking about this woman lived close by, a fine strong woman with the biggest pair of teats you ever saw. She had a temper on her, that one, but oh, she could be warm too, and in the deep of winter a man needs his warmth.\n\n\"The more I drank the more I thought about her, and the more I thought the harder me member got, till I couldn't suffer it no more. Fool that I was, I bundled meself up in furs from head to heels, wrapped a winding wool around me face, and set off to find her. The snow was coming down so hard I got turned around once or twice, and the wind blew right through me and froze me bones, but finally I come on her, all bundled up like I was."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The woman had a terrible temper, and she put up quite the fight when I laid hands on her. It was all I could do to carry her home and get her out o'them furs, but when I did, oh, she was hotter even than I remembered, and we had a fine old time, and then I went to sleep. Next morning when I woke the snow had stopped and the sun was shining, but I was in no fit state to enjoy it. All ripped and torn I was, and half me member bit right off, and thereon me floor was a she-bear's pelt. And soon enough the free folk were telling tales o'this bald bear seen in the woods, with the queerest pair o\" cubs behind her. Har!\" He slapped a meaty thigh. \"Would that I could find her again. She was fine to lay with, that bear. Never was a woman gave me such a fight, nor such strong sons neither.\"\n\n\"What could you do if you did find her?\" Jon asked, smiling. \"You said she bit your member off.\"\n\n\"Only half. And half me member is twice as long as any other man's.\" Tormund snorted. \"Now as to you... is it true they cut your members off when they take you for the Wall?\"\n\n\"No,\" Jon said, affronted.\n\n\"I think it must be true. Else why refuse Ygritte? She'd hardly give you any fight at all, seems tome. The girl wants you in her, that's plain enough to see.\"\n\nToo bloody plain, thought Jon, and it seems that half the column has seen it. He studied the falling snow so Tormund might not see him redden. I am a man of the Night's Watch, he reminded himself. So why did he feel like some blushing maid?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He spent most of his days in Ygritte's company, and most nights as well. Mance Rayder had not been blind to Rattleshirt's mistrust of the'crow-come-over,\" so after he had given Jon his new sheepskin cloak he had suggested that he might want to ride with Tormund Giantsbane instead. Jon had happily agreed, and the very next day Ygritte and Longspear Ryk left Rattleshirt's band for Tormund's as well. \"Free folk ride with who they want,\" the girl told him, \"and we had a bellyful of Bag o' Bones.\"\n\nEvery night when they made camp, Ygritte threw her sleeping skins down beside his own, no matter if he was near the fire or well away from it. Once he woke to find her nestled against him, her arm across his chest. He lay listening to her breathe fora longtime, trying to ignore the tension in his groin. Rangers often shared skins for warmth, but warmth was not all Ygritte wanted, he suspected. After that he had taken to using Ghost to keep her away. Old Nan used to tell stories about knights and their ladies who would sleep in a single bed with a blade between them for honor's sake, but he thought this must be the first time where a direwolf took the place of the sword.\n\nEven then, Ygritte persisted. The day before last, Jon had made the mistake of wishing he had hot water fora bath. \"Cold is better,\" she had said at once, \"if you've got someone to warm you up after. The river's only part ice yet, goon.\"\n\nJon laughed. \"You'd freeze me to death.\"\n\n\"Are all crows afraid of gooseprickles? A little ice won't kill you. I'll jump in with you t'prove it so.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And ride the rest of the day with wet clothes frozen to our skins?\" he objected.\n\n\"Jon Snow, you know nothing. You don't go in with clothes.\"\n\n\"I don't go in at all,\" he said firmly, just before he heard Tormund Thunderfist bellowing for him (he hadn't, but never mind).\n\nThe wildlings seemed to think Ygritte a great beauty because of her hair; red hair was rare among the free folk, and those who had it were said to be kissed by fire, which was supposed to be lucky. Lucky it might be, and red it certainly was, but Ygritte's hair was such a tangle that Jon was tempted to ask her if she only brushed it at the changing of the seasons.\n\nAt a lord's court the girl would never have been considered anything but common, he knew. She had around peasant face, a pug nose, and slightly crooked teeth, and her eyes were too far apart. Jon had noticed all that the first time he'd seen her, when his dirk had been at her throat. Lately, though, he was noticing some other things. When she grinned, the crooked teeth didn't seem to matter. And maybe her eyes were too far apart, but they were a pretty blue-grey color, and lively as any eyes he knew. Sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him. And sometimes by the cookfire when she sat hugging her knees with the flames waking echoes in her red hair, and looked at him, just smiling... well, that stirred somethings as well.\n\nBut he was a man of the Night's Watch, he had taken avow. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. He had said the words before the weirwood, before his father's gods. He could not unsay them... no more than he could admit the reason for his reluctance to Tormund Thunderfist, Father to Bears."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you mislike the girl?\" Tormund asked him as they passed another twenty mammoths, these bearing wildlings in tall wooden towers instead of giants.\n\n\"No, but I...\" What can I say that he will believe? \"I am still too young towed.\"\n\n\"Wed?\" Tormund laughed. \"Who spoke of wedding? In the south, must a man wed every girl he beds?\"\n\nJon could feel himself turning red again. \"She spoke for me when Rattleshirt would have killed me. I would not dishonor her.\"\n\n\"You area freeman now, and Ygritte is a free woman. What dishonor if you lay together?\"\n\n\"I might get her with child.\"\n\n\"Aye, I'd hope so. A strong son or a lively laughing girl kissed by fire, and where's the harm in that?\"\n\nWords failed him fora moment. \"The boy... the child would be a bastard.\"\n\n\"Are bastards weaker than other children? More sickly, more like to fail?\"\n\n\"No, but-\"\n\n\"You're bastard-born yourself. And if Ygritte does not want a child, she will go to some woods witch and drink a cup o\" moon tea. You do not come into it, once the seed is planted.\"\n\n\"I will not father a bastard.\"\n\nTormund shook his shaggy head. \"What fools you kneelers be. Why did you steal the girl if you don't want her?\"\n\n\"Steal? I never...\"\n\n\"You did,\" said Tormund. \"You slew the two she was with and carried her off, what do you call it?\"\n\n\"I took her prisoner.\"\n\n\"You made her yield to you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, but... Tormund, I swear, I've never touched her.\"\n\n\"Are you certain they never cut your member off?\" Tormund gave a shrug, as if to say he would never understand such madness. \"Well, you area freeman now, but if you will not have the girl, best find yourself a she-bear. If a man does not use his member it grows smaller and smaller, until one day he wants to piss and cannot find it.\"\n\nJon had no answer for that. Small wonder that the Seven Kingdoms thought the free folk scarcely human. They have no laws, no honor, not even simple decency. They steal endlessly from each other, breed like beasts, prefer rape to marriage, and fill the world with baseborn children. Yet he was growing fond of Tormund Giantsbane, great bag of wind and lies though he was. Longspear as well. And Ygritte... no, I will not think about Ygritte.\n\nAlong with the Tormunds and the Longspears rode other sorts of wildlings, though; men like Rattleshirt and the Weeper who would as soon slit you as spit on you. There was Harma Dogshead, a squat keg of a woman with cheeks like slabs of white meat, who hated dogs and killed one every fortnight to make afresh head for her banner; earless Styr, Magnar of Thenn, whose own people thought him more god than lord; Varamyr Sixskins, a small mouse of a man whose steed was a savage white snow bear that stood thirteen feet tall on its hind legs. And wherever the bear and Varamyr went, three wolves and a shadowcat came following. Jon had been in his presence only once, and once had been enough; the mere sight of the man had made him bristle, even as the fur on the back of Ghost's neck had bristled at the sight of the bear and that long black-and-white'cat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And there were folks fiercer even than Varamyr, from the northernmost reaches of the haunted forest, the hidden valleys of the Frostfangs, and even queerer places: the men of the Frozen Shore who rode in chariots made of walrus bones pulled along by packs of savage dogs, the terrible ice-river clans who were said to feast on human flesh, the cave dwellers with their faces dyed blue and purple and green. With his own eyes Jon had beheld the Hornfoot men trotting along in column on bare soles as hard as boiled leather. He had not seen any snarks or grumpkins, but for all he knew Tormund would behaving some to supper.\n\nHalf the wildling host had lived all their lives without so much as a glimpse of the Wall, Jon judged, and most of those spoke no word of the Common Tongue. It did not matter. Mance Rayder spoke the Old Tongue, even sang in it, fingering his lute and filling the night with strange wild music.\n\nMance had spent years assembling this vast plodding host, talking to this clan mother and that magnar, winning one village with sweet words and another with a song and a third with the edge of his sword, making peace between Harma Dogshead and the Lord o' Bones, between the Hornfoots and the Nightrunners, between the walrus men of the Frozen Shore and the cannibal clans of the great ice rivers, hammering a hundred different daggers into one great spear, aimed at the heart of the Seven Kingdoms. He had no crown nor scepter, no robes of silk and velvet, but it was plain to Jon that Mance Rayder was a king in more than name.\n\nJon had joined the wildlings at Qhorin Halfhand's command. \"Ride with them, eat with them, fight with them,\" the ranger had told him, the night before he died. \"And watch.\" But all his watching had learned him little. The Halfhand had suspected that the wildlings had gone up into the bleak and barren Frostfangs in search of some weapon, some power, some fell sorcery with which to break the Wall... but if they had found any such, no one was boasting of it openly, or showing it to Jon. Nor had Mance Rayder confided any of his plans or strategies. Since that first night, he had hardly seen the man save at a distance."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I will kill him if I must."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The prospect gave Jon no joy; there would be no honor in such a killing, and it would mean his own death as well. Yet he could not let the wildlings breach the Wall, to threaten Winterfell and the north, the barrowlands and the Rills, White Harbor and the Stony Shore, even the Neck. For eight thousand years the men of House Stark had lived and died to protect their people against such ravagers and reavers... and bastard-born or no, the same blood ran in his veins. Bran and Rickon are still at Winterfell besides. Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, Old Nan, Farlen the kennelmaster, Mikken at his forge and Gage by his ovens... everyone I ever knew, everyone I ever loved. If Jon must slay a man he half admired and almost liked to save them from the mercies of Rattleshirt and Harma Dogshead and the earless Magnar of Thenn, that was what he meant to do.\n\nStill, he prayed his father's gods might spare him that bleak task. The host moved but slowly, burdened as it was by all the wildlings\" herds and children and mean little treasures, and the snows had slowed its progress even more. Most of the column was out of the foothills now, oozing down along the west bank of the Milkwater like honey on a cold winter's morning, following the course of the river into the heart of the haunted forest.\n\nAnd somewhere close ahead, Jon knew, the Fist of the First Men loomed above the trees, home to three hundred black brothers of the Night's Watch, armed, mounted, and waiting. The Old Bear had sent out other scouts besides the Halfhand, and surely Jarman Buckwell or Thoren Smallwood would have returned by now with word of what was coming down out of the mountains."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mormont will not run, Jon thought. He is too old and he has come too far. He will strike, and damn the numbers. One day soon he would hear the sound of warhorns, and see a column of riders pounding down on them with black cloaks flapping and cold steel in their hands. Three hundred men could not hope to kill a hundred times their number, of course, but Jon did not think they would need to. He need not slay a thousand, only one. Mance is all that keeps them together.\n\nThe King-beyond-the-Wall was doing all he could, yet the wildlings remained hopelessly undisciplined, and that made them vulnerable. Here and there within the leagues-long snake that was their line of march were warriors as fierce as any in the Watch, but a good third of them were grouped at either end of the column, in Harma Dogshead's van and the savage rearguard with its giants, aurochs, and fire flingers. Another third rode with Mance himself near the center, guarding the wayns and sledges and dogcarts that held the great bulk of the host's provisions and supplies, all that remained of the last summer harvest. The rest, divided into small bands under the likes of Rattleshirt, Jarl, Tormund Giantsbane, and the Weeper, served as outriders, foragers, and whips, galloping up and down the column endlessly to keep it moving in a more or less orderly fashion.\n\nAnd even more telling, only one in a hundred wildlings was mounted. The Old Bear will go through them like an axe through porridge. And when that happened, Mance must give chase with his center, to try and blunt the threat. If he should fall in the fight that must follow, the Wall would be safe for another hundred years, Jon judged. And if not..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He flexed the burned fingers of his sword hand."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Longclaw was slung to his saddle, the carved stone wolf's-head pommel and soft leather grip of the great bastard sword within easy reach.\n\nThe snow was falling heavily by the time they caught Tormund's band, several hours later. Ghost departed along the way, melting into the forest at the scent of prey. The direwolf would return when they made camp for the night, by dawn at the latest. However far he prowled, Ghost always came back... and so, it seemed, did Ygritte.\n\n\"So,\" the girl called when she saw him, \"d'you believe us now, Jon Snow? Did you seethe giants on their mammoths?\"\n\n\"Har!\" shouted Tormund, before Jon could reply. \"The crow's in love! He means to marry one!\"\n\n\"A giantess?\" Longspear Ryk laughed.\n\n\"No, a mammoth!\" Tormund bellowed. \"Har!\"\n\nYgritte trotted beside Jonas he slowed his garron to a walk. She claimed to be three years older than him, though she stood half afoot shorter; however old she might be, the girl was a tough little thing. Stonesnake had called her a'spearwife\" when they'd captured her in the Skirling Pass. She wasn't wed and her weapon of choice was a short curved bow of horn and weirwood, but'spearwife\" fit her all the same. She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier. It was hard to tell how plump or thin Ygritte might be, with all the furs and skins she wore.\n\n\"Do you know \"The Last of the Giants\"?\" Without waiting for an answer Ygritte said, \"You need a deeper voice than mine to do it proper.\" Then she sang, \"Ooooooh, I am the last of the giants, my people are gone from the earth.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tormund Giantsbane heard the words and grinned. \"The last of the great mountain giants, who ruled all the world at my birth,\" he bellowed back through the snow.\n\nLongspear Ryk joined in, singing, \"Oh, the smallfolk have stolen my forests, they've stolen my rivers and hills.\"\n\n\"And they've built a great wall through my valleys, and fished all the fish from my rills,\" Ygritte and Tormund sang back at him in turn, in suitably gigantic voices.\n\nTormund's sons Toregg and Dormund added their deep voices as well, then his daughter Munda and all the rest. Others began to bang their spears on leathern shields to keep rough time, until the whole war band was singing as they rode.\n\nIn stone halls they burn their great fires,\n\nin stone halls they forge their sharp spears.\n\nWhilst I walk alone in the mountains,\n\nwith no true companion but tears.\n\nThey hunt me with dogs in the daylight,\n\nthey hunt me with torches by night.\n\nFor these men who are small can never stand tall,\n\nwhilst giants still walk in the light.\n\nOooooooh, I am the LAST of the giants,\n\nso learn well the words of my song.\n\nFor when I am gone the singing will fade,\n\nand the silence shall last long and long.\n\nThere were tears on Ygritte's cheeks when the song ended.\n\n\"Why are you weeping?\" Jon asked. \"It was only a song. There are hundreds of giants, I've just seen them.\"\n\n\"Oh, hundreds,\" she said furiously. \"You know nothing, Jon Snow. You-JON!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon turned at the sudden sound of wings. Blue-grey feathers filled his eyes, as sharp talons buried themselves in his face. Red pain lanced through him sudden and fierce as pinions beat round his head. He saw the beak, but there was no time to get a hand up or reach fora weapon. Jon reeled backward, his foot lost the stirrup, his garron broke in panic, and then he was falling. And still the eagle clung to his face, its talons tearing at him as it flapped and shrieked and pecked. The world turned upside down in a chaos of feathers and horseflesh and blood, and then the ground came up to smash him.\n\nThe next he knew, he was on his face with the taste of mud and blood in his mouth and Ygritte kneeling over him protectively, a bone dagger in her hand. He could still hear wings, though the eagle was not insight. Half his world was black. \"My eye,\" he said in sudden panic, raising a hand to his face.\n\n\"It's only blood, Jon Snow. He missed the eye, just ripped your skin up some.\"\n\nHis face was throbbing. Tormund stood over them bellowing, he saw from his right eye as he rubbed blood from his left. Then there were hoofbeats, shouts, and the clacking of old dry bones.\n\n\"Bag o' Bones,\" roared Tormund, \"call off your hellcrow!\"\n\n\"There's your hellcrow!\" Rattleshirt pointed at Jon. \"Bleeding in the mud like a faithless dog!\" The eagle came flapping down to land atop the broken giant's skull that served him for his helm. \"I'm here for him.\"\n\n\"Come take him then,\" said Tormund, \"but best come with sword in hand, for that's where you'll find mine. Might be I'll boil your bones, and use your skull to piss in. Har!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Once I prick you and let the air out, you'll shrink down smaller'n that girl."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Stand aside, or Mance will hear o' this.\"\n\nYgritte stood. \"What, is it Mance who wants him?\"\n\n\"I said so, didn't I? Get him upon those black feet.\"\n\nTormund frowned down at Jon. \"Best go, if it's the Mance who's wanting you.\"\n\nYgritte helped pull him up. \"He's bleeding like a butchered boar. Look what Orell did t\" his sweet face.\"\n\nCan a bird hate? Jon had slain the wilding Orell, but some part of the man remained within the eagle. The golden eyes looked out on him with cold malevolence. \"I'll come,\" he said. The blood kept running down into his right eye, and his cheek was ablaze of pain. When he touched it his black gloves came away stained with red. \"Let me catch my garron.\" It was not the horse he wanted so much as Ghost, but the direwolf was nowhere to be seen. He could be leagues away by now, ripping out the throat of some elk. Perhaps that was just as well.\n\nThe garron shied away from him when he approached, no doubt frightened by the blood on his face, but Jon calmed him with a few quiet words and finally got close enough to take the reins. Ashe swung back into the saddle his head whirled. I will need to get this tended, he thought, but not just now. Let the King-beyond-the-Wall see what his eagle did tome. His right hand opened and closed, and he reached down for Longclaw and slung the bastard sword over a shoulder before he wheeled to trot back to where the Lord of Bones and his band were waiting.\n\nYgritte was waiting too, sitting on her horse with a fierce look on her face. \"I am coming too.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Begone.\" The bones of Rattleshirt's breastplate clattered together. \"I was sent for the crow-come-down, none other.\"\n\n\"A free woman rides where she will,\" Ygritte said.\n\nThe wind was blowing snow into Jon's eyes. He could feel the blood freezing on his face. \"Are we talking or riding?\"\n\n\"Riding,\" said the Lord of Bones.\n\nIt was a grim gallop. They rode two miles down the column through swirling snows, then cut through a tangle of baggage wayns to splash across the Milkwater where it took a great loop toward the east. A crust of thin ice covered the river shallows; with every step their horses' hooves crashed through, until they reached the deeper water ten yards out. The snow seemed befalling even faster on the eastern bank, and the drifts were deeper too. Even the wind is colder. And night was falling too.\n\nBut even through the blowing snow, the shape of the great white hill that loomed above the trees was unmistakable. The Fist of the First Men. Jon heard the scream of the eagle overhead. A raven looked down from a soldier pine and quorked as he went past. Had the Old Bear made his attack? Instead of the clash of steel and the thrum of arrows taking flight, Jon heard only the soft crunch of frozen crust beneath his garron's hooves.\n\nIn silence they circled round to the south slope, where the approach was easiest. It was thereat the bottom that Jon saw the dead horse, sprawled at the base of the hill, half buried in the snow. Entrails spilled from the belly of the animal like frozen snakes, and one of its legs was gone. Wolves, was Jon's first thought, but that was wrong. Wolves eat their kill."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "More garrons were strewn across the slope, legs twisted grotesquely, blind eyes staring in death. The wildlings crawled over them like flies, stripping them of saddles, bridles, packs, and armor, and hacking them apart with stone axes.\n\n\"Up,\" Rattleshirt told Jon. \"Mance is up top.\"\n\nOutside the ringwall they dismounted to squeeze through a crooked gap in the stones. The carcass of a shaggy brown garron was impaled upon the sharpened stakes the Old Bear had placed inside every entrance. He was trying to get out, not in. There was no sign of a rider.\n\nInside was more, and worse. Jon had never seen pink snow before. The wind gusted around him, pulling at his heavy sheepskin cloak. Ravens flapped from one dead horse to the next. Are those wild ravens, or our own? Jon could not tell. He wondered where poor Sam was now. And what he was.\n\nA crust of frozen blood crunched beneath the heel of his boot. The wildlings were stripping the dead horses of every scrap of steel and leather, even prying the horseshoes off their hooves. A few were going through packs they'd turned up, looking for weapons and food. Jon passed one of Chett's dogs, or what remained of him, lying in a sludgy pool of half-frozen blood.\n\nA few tents were still standing on the far side of the camp, and it was there they found Mance Rayder. Beneath his slashed cloak of black wool and red silk he wore black ringmail and shaggy fur breeches, and on his head was a great bronze-and-iron helm with raven wings at either temple. Jarl was with him, and Harma the Dogshead; Styr as well, and Varamyr Sixskins with his wolves and his shadowcat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The look Mance gave Jon was grim and cold. \"What happened to your face?\"\n\nYgritte said, \"Orell tried to take his eye out.\"\n\n\"It was him I asked. Has he lost his tongue? Perhaps he should, to spare us further lies.\"\n\nStyr the Magnar drew along knife. \"The boy might see more clear with one eye, instead of two.\"\n\n\"Would you like to keep your eye, Jon?\" asked the King-beyond-the-Wall. \"If so, tell me how many they were. And try and speak the truth this time, Bastard of Winterfell.\"\n\nJon's throat was dry. \"My lord... what...\"\n\n\"I am not your lord,\" said Mance. \"And the what is plain enough. Your brothers died. The question is, how many?\"\n\nJon's face was throbbing, the snow kept coming down, and it was hard to think. You must not balk, whatever is asked of you, Qhorin had told him. The words stuck in his throat, but he made himself say, \"There were three hundred of us.\"\n\n\"Us?\" Mance said sharply.\n\n\"Them. Three hundred of them.\" Whatever is asked, the Halfhand said. So why do I feel so craven? \"Two hundred from Castle Black, and one hundred from the Shadow Tower.\"\n\n\"There's a truer song than the one you sang in my tent.\" Mance looked to Harma Dogshead. \"How many horses have we found?\"\n\n\"More'n a hundred,\" that huge woman replied, \"less than two. There's more dead to the east, under the snow, hard t'know how many.\" Behind her stood her banner bearer, holding a pole with a dog's head on it, fresh enough to still be leaking blood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You should never have lied tome, Jon Snow,\" said Mance.\n\n\"I... I know that.\" What could he say?\n\nThe wildling king studied his face. \"Who had the command here? And tell me true. Was it Rykker? Smallwood? Not Wythers, he's too feeble. Whose tent was this?\"\n\nI have said too much. \"You did not find his body?\"\n\nHarma snorted, her disdain frosting from her nostrils. \"What fools these black crows be.\"\n\n\"The next time you answer me with a question, I will give you to my Lord of Bones,\" Mance Rayder promised Jon. He stepped closer. \"Who led here?\"\n\nOne more step, thought Jon. Another foot. He moved his hand closer to Longclaw's hilt. If I hold my tongue...\n\n\"Reach up for that bastard sword and I'll have your bastard head off before it clears the scabbard,\" said Mance. \"I am fast losing patience with you, crow.\"\n\n\"Say it,\" Ygritte urged. \"He's dead, whoever he was.\"\n\nHis frown cracked the blood on his cheek. This is too hard, Jon thought in despair. How do I play the turncloak without becoming one? Qhorin had not told him that. But the second step is always easier than the first. \"The Old Bear.\"\n\n\"That old man?\" Harma's tone said she did not believe it. \"He came himself? Then who commands at Castle Black?\"\n\n\"Bowen Marsh.\" This time Jon answered at once. You must not balk, whatever is asked of you.\n\nMance laughed. \"If so, our war is won. Bowen knows a deal more about counting swords than he's ever known about using them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Old Bear commanded,\" said Jon. \"This place was high and strong, and he made it stronger. He dug pits and planted stakes, laid up food and water. He was ready for...\"\n\n\"... me?\" finished Mance Rayder. \"Aye, he was. Had I been fool enough to storm this hill, I might have lost five men for every crow I slew and still counted myself lucky.\" His mouth grew hard. \"But when the dead walk, walls and stakes and swords mean nothing. You cannot fight the dead, Jon Snow. No man knows that half so well as me.\" He gazed up at the darkening sky and said, \"The crows may have helped us more than they know. I'd wondered why we'd suffered no attacks. But there's still a hundred leagues to go, and the cold is rising. Varamyr, send your wolves sniffing after the wights, I won't have them taking us unawares. My Lord of Bones, double all the patrols, and make certain every man has torch and flint. Styr, Jarl, you ride at first light.\"\n\n\"Mance,\" Rattleshirt said, \"I want me some crow bones.\"\n\nYgritte stepped in front of Jon. \"You can't kill a man for lying to protect them as was his brothers.\"\n\n\"They are still his brothers,\" declared Styr.\n\n\"They're not,\" insisted Ygritte. \"He never killed me, like they told him. And he slew the Halfhand, we all saw.\"\n\nJon's breath misted the air. If I lie to him, he'll know. He looked Mance Rayder in the eyes, opened and closed his burned hand. \"I wear the cloak you gave me, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"A sheepskin cloak!\" said Ygritte. \"And there's many a night we dance beneath it, too!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jarl laughed, and even Harma Dogshead smirked. \"Is that the way of it, Jon Snow?\" asked Mance Rayder, mildly. \"Her and you?\"\n\nIt was easy to lose your way beyond the Wall. Jon did not know that he could tell honor from shame anymore, or right from wrong. Father forgive me. \"Yes,\" he said.\n\nMance nodded. \"Good. You'll go with Jarl and Styron the morrow, then. Both of you. Far be it from me to separate two hearts that beat as one.\"\n\n\"Go where?\" said Jon.\n\n\"Over the Wall. It's past time you proved your faith with something more than words, Jon Snow.\"\n\nThe Magnar was not pleased. \"What do I want with a crow?\"\n\n\"He knows the Watch and he knows the Wall,\" said Mance, \"and he knows Castle Black better than any raider ever could. You'll find a use for him, or you're a fool.\"\n\nStyr scowled. \"His heart may still be black.\"\n\n\"Then cut it out.\" Mance turned to Rattleshirt. \"My Lord of Bones, keep the column moving at all costs. If we reach the Wall before Mormont, we've won.\"\n\n\"They'll move.\" Rattleshirt's voice was thick and angry.\n\nMance nodded, and walked away, Harma and Sixskins beside him. Varamyr's wolves and shadowcat followed behind. Jon and Ygritte were left with Jarl, Rattleshirt, and the Magnar. The two older wildlings looked at Jon with ill-concealed rancor as Jarl said, \"You heard, we ride at daybreak. Bring all the food you can, there'll be no time to hunt. And have your face seen to, crow. You look a bloody mess.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will,\" said Jon.\n\n\"You best not belying, girl,\" Rattleshirt said to Ygritte, his eyes shiny behind the giant's skull.\n\nJon drew Longsclaw. \"Getaway from us, unless you want what Qhorin got.\"\n\n\"You got no wolf to help you here, boy.\" Rattleshirt reached for his own sword.\n\n\"Sure o' that, are you?\" Ygritte laughed.\n\nAtop the stones of the ringwall, Ghost hunched with white fur bristling. He made no sound, but his dark red eyes spoke blood. The Lord of Bones moved his hand slowly away from his sword, backed off a step, and left them with a curse.\n\nGhost padded beside their garrons as Jon and Ygritte descended the Fist. It was not until they were halfway across the Milkwater that Jon felt safe enough to say, \"I never asked you to lie for me.\"\n\n\"I never did,\" she said. \"I left out part, is all.\"\n\n\"You said-\"\n\n\"-that we fuck beneath your cloak many a night. I never said when we started, though.\" The smile she gave him was almost shy. \"Find another place for Ghost to sleep tonight, Jon Snow. It's like Mance said. Deeds is truer than words.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SANSA\n\nAnew gown?\" she said, as wary as she was astonished.\n\n\"More lovely than any you have worn, my lady,\" the old woman promised. She measured Sansa's hips with a length of knotted string. \"All silk and Myrish lace, with satin linings. You will be very beautiful. The queen herself has commanded it.\"\n\n\"Which queen?\" Margaery was not yet Joff's queen, but she had been Renly's. Or did she mean the Queen of Thorns? Or...\n\n\"The Queen Regent, to be sure.\"\n\n\"Queen Cersei?\"\n\n\"None other. She has honored me with her custom for many a year.\" The old woman laid her string along the inside of Sansa's leg. \"Her Grace said tome that you area woman now, and should not dress like a little girl. Holdout your arm.\"\n\nSansa lifted her arm. She needed anew gown, that was true. She had grown three inches in the past year, and most of her old wardrobe had been ruined by the smoke when she'd tried to burn her mattress on the day of her first flowering\n\n\"Your bosom will be as lovely as the queen's,\" the old woman said as she looped her string around Sansa's chest. \"You should not hide it so.\"\n\nThe comment made her blush. Yet the last time she'd gone riding, she could not lace her jerkin all the way to the top, and the stableboy gaped at her as he helped her mount. Sometimes she caught grown men looking at her chest as well, and some of her tunics were so tight she could scarce breathe in them.\n\n\"What color will it be?\" she asked the seamstress."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Leave the colors tome, my lady."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You will be pleased, I know you will. You shall have smallclothes and hose as well, kirtles and mantles and cloaks, and all else befitting a... a lovely young lady of noble birth.\"\n\n\"Will they be ready in time for the king's wedding?\"\n\n\"Oh, sooner, much sooner, Her Grace insists. I have six seamstresses and twelve apprentice girls, and we have set all our other work aside for this. Many ladies will be cross with us, but it was the queen's command.\"\n\n\"Thank Her Grace kindly for her thoughtfulness,\" Sansa said politely. \"She is too good tome.\"\n\n\"Her Grace is most generous,\" the seamstress agreed, as she gathered up her things and took her leave.\n\nBut why? Sansa wondered when she was alone. It made her uneasy. I'll wager this gown is Margaery's doing somehow, or her grandmother's.\n\nMargaery's kindness had been unfailing, and her presence changed everything. Her ladies welcomed Sansa as well. It had been so long since she had enjoyed the company of other women, she had almost forgotten how pleasant it could be. Lady Leonette gave her lessons on the high harp, and Lady Janna shared all the choice gossip. Merry Crane always had an amusing story, and little Lady Bulwer reminded her of Arya, though not so fierce.\n\nClosest to Sansa's own age were the cousins Elinor, Alla, and Megga, Tyrells from junior branches of the House. \"Roses from lower on the bush,\" quipped Elinor, who was witty and willowy. Megga was round and loud, Alla shy and pretty, but Elinor ruled the three by right of womanhood; she was a maiden flowered, whereas Megga and Alla were mere girls."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The cousins took Sansa into their company as if they had known her all their lives. They spent long afternoons doing needlework and talking over lemon cakes and honeyed wine, played at tiles of an evening, sang together in the castle sept... and often one or two of them would be chosen to share Margaery's bed, where they would whisper half the night away. Alla had a lovely voice, and when coaxed would play the woodharp and singsongs of chivalry and lost loves. Megga couldn't sing, but she was mad to be kissed. She and Alla played a kissing game sometimes, she confessed, but it wasn't the same as kissing a man, much less a king. Sansa wondered what Megga would think about kissing the Hound, as she had. He'd come to her the night of the battle stinking of wine and blood. He kissed me and threatened to kill me, and made me sing him a song.\n\n\"King Joffrey has such beautiful lips,\" Megga gushed, oblivious, \"oh, poor Sansa, how your heart must have broken when you lost him. Oh, how you must have wept!\"\n\nJoffrey made me weep more often than you know, she wanted to say, but Butterbumps was not on hand to drown out her voice, so she pressed her lips together and held her tongue.\n\nAs for Elinor, she was promised to a young squire, a son of Lord Ambrose; they would be wed as soon as he won his spurs. He had worn her favor in the Battle of the Blackwater, where he'd slain a Myrish crossbowman and a Mullendore man-at-arms. \"Alyn said her favor made him fearless,\" said Megga. \"He says he shouted her name for his battle cry, isn't that ever so gallant? Someday I want some champion to wear my favor, and kill a hundred men.\" Elinor told her to hush, but looked pleased all the same."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They are children, Sansa thought. They are silly little girls, even Elinor. They've never seen a battle, they've never seen a man die, they know nothing. Their dreams were full of songs and stories, the way hers had been before Joffrey cut her father's head off. Sansa pitied them. Sansa envied them.\n\nMargaery was different, though. Sweet and gentle, yet there was a little of her grandmother in her, too. The day before last she'd taken Sansa hawking. It was the first time she had been outside the city since the battle. The dead had been burned or buried, but the Mud Gate was scarred and splintered where Lord Stannis's rams had battered it, and the hulls of smashed ships could be seen along both sides of the Blackwater, charred masts poking from the shallows like gaunt black fingers. The only traffic was the flat-bottomed ferry that took them across the river, and when they reached the kingswood they found a wilderness of ash and charcoal and dead trees. But the waterfowl teemed in the marshes along the bay, and Sansa's merlin brought down three ducks while Margaery's peregrine took a heron in full flight.\n\n\"Willas has the best birds in the Seven Kingdoms,\" Margaery said when the two of them were briefly alone. \"He flies an eagle sometimes. You will see, Sansa.\" She took her by the hand and gave it a squeeze. \"Sister.\"\n\nSister. Sansa had once dreamt of having a sister like Margaery; beautiful and gentle, with all the world's graces at her command. Arya had been entirely unsatisfactory as sisters went. How can I let my sister marry Joffrey? she thought, and suddenly her eyes were full of tears. \"Margaery, please,\" she said, \"you mustn't.\" It was hard to get the words out. \"You mustn't marry him. He's not like he seems, he's not. He'll hurt you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I shouldn't think so.\" Margaery smiled confidently. \"It's brave of you to warn me, but you need not fear. Joff's spoiled and vain and I don't doubt that he's as cruel as you say, but Father forced him to name Loras to his Kingsguard before he would agree to the match. I shall have the finest knight in the Seven Kingdoms protecting me night and day, as Prince Aemon protected Naerys. So our little lion had best behave, hadn't he?\" She laughed, and said, \"Come, sweet sister, let's race back to the river. It will drive our guards quite mad.\" And without waiting for an answer, she put her heels into her horse and flew.\n\nShe is so brave, Sansa thought, galloping after her... and yet, her doubts still gnawed at her. Ser Loras was a great knight, all agreed. But Joffrey had other Kingsguard, and gold cloaks and red cloaks besides, and when he was older he would command armies of his own. Aegon the Unworthy had never harmed Queen Naerys, perhaps for fear of their brother the Dragonknight... but when another of his Kingsguard fell in love with one of his mistresses, the king had taken both their heads.\n\nSer Loras is a Tyrell, Sansa reminded herself. That other knight was only a Toyne. His brothers had no armies, noway to avenge him but with swords. Yet the more she thought about it all, the more she wondered. Joff might restrain himself fora few turns, perhaps as long as a year, but soon or late he will show his claws, and when he does... The realm might have a second Kingslayer, and there would be war inside the city, as the men of the lion and the men of the rose made the gutters run red."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sansa was surprised that Margaery did not see it too."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She is older than me, she must be wiser. And her father, Lord Tyrell, he knows what he is doing, surely. I am just being silly.\n\nWhen she told Ser Dontos that she was going to Highgarden to marry Willas Tyrell, she thought he would be relieved and pleased for her. Instead he had grabbed her arm and said, \"You cannot!\" in a voice as thick with horror as with wine. \"I tell you, these Tyrells are only Lannisters with flowers. I beg of you, forget this folly, give your Florian a kiss, and promise you'll go ahead as we have planned. The night of Joffrey's wedding, that's not so long, wear the silver hairnet and do as I told you, and afterward we make our escape.\" He tried to plant a kiss on her cheek.\n\nSansa slipped from his grasp and stepped away from him. \"I won't. I can't. Something would go wrong. When I wanted to escape you wouldn't take me, and now I don't need to.\"\n\nDontos stared at her stupidly. \"But the arrangements are made, sweetling. The ship to take you home, the boat to take you to the ship, your Florian did it all for his sweet Jonquil.\"\n\n\"I am sorry for all the trouble I put you to,\" she said, \"but I have no need of boats and ships now.\"\n\n\"But it's all to see you safe.\"\n\n\"I will be safe in Highgarden. Willas will keep me safe.\"\n\n\"But he does not know you,\" Dontos insisted, \"and he will not love you. Jonquil, Jonquil, open your sweet eyes, these Tyrells care nothing for you. It's your claim they mean towed.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"My claim?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was lost fora moment.\n\n\"Sweetling,\" he told her, \"you are heir to Winterfell.\" He grabbed her again, pleading that she must not do this thing, and Sansa wrenched free and left him swaying beneath the heart tree. She had not visited the godswood since.\n\nBut she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It's your claim they mean towed. Sansa had grownup with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead... It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?\n\nSometimes she would whisper his name into her pillow just to hear the sound of it. \"Willas, Willas, Willas.\" Willas was as good a name as Loras, she supposed. They even sounded the same, a little. What did it matter about his leg? Willas would be Lord of Highgarden and she would be his lady.\n\nShe pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.\n\nShe could never hold a picture of Willas long in her head, though; her imaginings kept turning him back into Ser Loras, young and graceful and beautiful. You must not think of him like that, she told herself. Or else he may seethe disappointment in your eyes when you meet, and how could he marry you then, knowing it was his brother you loved? Willas Tyrell was twice her age, she reminded herself constantly, and lame as well, and perhaps even plump and red-faced like his father. But comely or no, he might be the only champion she would ever have."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Once she dreamed it was still her marrying Joff, not Margaery, and on their wedding night he turned into the headsman Ilyn Payne. She woke trembling. She did not want Margaery to suffer as she had, but she dreaded the thought that the Tyrells might refuse to go ahead with the wedding. I warned her, I did, I told her the truth of him. Perhaps Margaery did not believe her. Joff always played the perfect knight with her, as once he had with Sansa. She will see his true nature soon enough. After the wedding if not before. Sansa decided that she would light a candle to the Mother Above the next time she visited the sept, and ask her to protect Margaery from Joffrey's cruelty. And perhaps a candle to the Warrior as well, for Loras.\n\nShe would wear her new gown for the ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor, she decided as the seamstress took her last measurement. That must be why Cersei is having it made for me, so I will not look shabby at the wedding. She really ought to have a different gown for the feast afterward but she supposed one of her old ones would do. She did not want to risk getting food or wine on the new one. I must take it with me to Highgarden. She wanted to look beautiful for Willas Tyrell. Even if Dontos was right, and it is Winterfell he wants and not me, he still may come to love me for myself. Sansa hugged herself tightly, wondering how long it would be before the gown was ready. She could scarcely wait to wear it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "ARYA\n\nThe rains came and went, but there was more grey sky than blue, and all the streams were running high. On the morning of the third day, Arya noticed that the moss was growing mostly on the wrong side of the trees. \"We're going the wrong way,\" she said to Gendry, as they rode past an especially mossy elm. \"We're going south. See how the moss is growing on the trunk?\"\n\nHe pushed thick black hair from eyes and said, \"We're following the road, that's all. The road goes south here.\"\n\nWe've been going south all day, she wanted to tell him. And yesterday too, when we were riding along that streambed. But she hadn't been paying close attention yesterday, so she couldn't be certain. \"I think we're lost,\" she said in a low voice. \"We shouldn't have left the river. All we had to do was follow it.\"\n\n\"The river bends and loops,\" said Gendry. \"This is just a shorter way, I bet. Some secret outlaw way. Lem and Tom and them have been living here for years.\"\n\nThat was true. Arya bit her lip. \"But the moss...\"\n\n\"The way it's raining, we'll have moss growing from our ears before long,\" Gendry complained.\n\n\"Only from our south ear,\" Arya declared stubbornly. There was no use trying to convince the Bull of anything. Still, he was the only true friend she had, now that Hot Pie had left them.\n\n\"Sharna says she needs me to bake bread,\" he'd told her, the day they rode. \"Anyhow I'm tired of rain and saddlesores and being scared all the time. There's ale here, and rabbit to eat, and the bread will be better when I make it. You'll see, when you comeback. You will comeback, won't you? When the war's done?\" He remembered who she was then, and added, \"My lady,\" reddening."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya didn't know if the war would ever be done, but she had nodded. \"I'm sorry I beat you that time,\" she said. Hot Pie was stupid and craven, but he'd been with her all the way from King's Landing and she'd gotten used to him. \"I broke your nose.\"\n\n\"You broke Lem's too.\" Hot Pie grinned. \"That was good.\"\n\n\"Lem didn't think so,\" Arya said glumly. Then it was time to go. When Hot Pie asked if he might kiss milady's hand, she punched his shoulder. \"Don't call me that. You're Hot Pie, and I'm Arry.\"\n\n\"I'm not Hot Pie here. Sharna just calls me Boy. The same as she calls the other boy. It's going to be confusing.\"\n\nShe missed him more than she thought she would, but Harwin made up for it some. She had told him about his father Hullen, and how she'd found him dying by the stables in the Red Keep, the day she fled. \"He always said he'd die in a stable,\" Harwin said, \"but we all thought some bad-tempered stallion would be his death, not a pack of lions.\" Arya told of Yoren and their escape from King's Landing as well, and much that had happened since, but she left out the stableboy she'd stabbed with Needle, and the guard whose throat she'd cut to get out of Harrenhal. Telling Harwin would be almost like telling her father, and there were somethings that she could not bear having her father know.\n\nNor did she speak of Jaqen H'ghar and the three deaths he'd owed and paid. The iron coin he'd given her Arya kept tucked away beneath her belt, but sometimes at night she would take it out and remember how his face had melted and changed when he ran his hand across it. \"Valar morghulis,\" she would say under her breath. \"Ser Gregor, Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei, King Joffrey.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Only six Winterfell men remained of the twenty her father had sent west with Beric Dondarrion, Harwin told her, and they were scattered. \"It was a trap, milady. Lord Tywin sent his Mountain across the Red Fork with fire and sword, hoping to draw your lord father. He planned for Lord Eddard to come west himself to deal with Gregor Clegane. If he had he would have been killed, or taken prisoner and traded for the Imp, who was your lady mother's captive at the time. Only the Kingslayer never knew Lord Tywin's plan, and when he heard about his brother's capture he attacked your father in the streets of King's Landing.\"\n\n\"I remember,\" said Arya. \"He killed Jory.\" Jory had always smiled at her, when he wasn't telling her to get from underfoot.\n\n\"He killed Jory,\" Harwin agreed, \" and your father's leg was broken when his horse fell on him. So Lord Eddard couldn't go west. He sent Lord Beric instead, with twenty of his own men and twenty from Winterfell, me among them. There were others besides. Thoros and Ser Raymun Darry and their men, Ser Gladden Wylde, a lord named Lothar Mallery. But Gregor was waiting for us at the Mummer's Ford, with men concealed on both banks. As we crossed he fell upon us from front and rear.\n\n\"I saw the Mountain slay Raymun Darry with a single blow so terrible that it took Darry's arm off at the elbow and killed the horse beneath him too. Gladden Wylde died therewith him, and Lord Mallery was ridden down and drowned. We had lions on every side, and I thought I was doomed with the rest, but Alyn shouted commands and restored order to our ranks, and those still ahorse rallied around Thoros and cut our way free. Six score we'd been that morning. By dark no more than two score were left, and Lord Beric was gravely wounded. Thoros drew afoot of lance from his chest that night, and poured boiling wine into the hole it left."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Every man of us was certain his lordship would be dead by daybreak. But Thoros prayed with him all night beside the fire, and when dawn came, he was still alive, and stronger than he'd been. It was a fortnight before he could mount a horse, but his courage kept us strong. He told us that our war had not ended at the Mummer's Ford, but only begun there, and that every man of ours who'd fallen would be avenged tenfold.\n\n\"By then the fighting had passed by us. The Mountain's men were only the van of Lord Tywin's host. They crossed the Red Fork in strength and swept up into the riverlands, burning everything in their path. We were so few that all we could do was harry their rear, but we told each other that we'd join up with King Robert when he marched west to crush Lord Tywin's rebellion. Only then we heard that Robert was dead, and Lord Eddard as well, and Cersei Lannister's whelp had ascended the Iron Throne.\n\n\"That turned the whole world on its head. We'd been sent out by the King's Hand to deal with outlaws, you see, but now we were the outlaws, and Lord Tywin was the Hand of the King. There was some wanted to yield then, but Lord Beric wouldn't hear of it. We were still king's men, he said, and these were the king's people the lions were savaging. If we could not fight for Robert, we would fight for them, until every man of us was dead. And so we did, but as we fought something queer happened. For every man we lost, two showed up to take his place. A few were knights or squires, of gentle birth, but most were common men-fieldhands and fiddlers and innkeeps, servants and shoemakers, even two septons. Men of all sorts, and women too, children, dogs...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Dogs?\" said Arya.\n\n\"Aye.\" Harwin grinned. \"One of our lads keeps the meanest dogs you'd ever want to see.\"\n\n\"I wish I had a good mean dog,\" said Arya wistfully. \"A lion-killing dog.\" She'd had a direwolf once, Nymeria, but she'd thrown rocks at her until she fled, to keep the queen from killing her. Could a direwolf kill a lion? she wondered.\n\nIt rained again that afternoon, and long into the evening. Thankfully the outlaws had secret friends allover, so they did not need to camp out in the open or seek shelter beneath some leaky bower, as she and Hot Pie and Gendry had done so often.\n\nThat night they sheltered in a burned, abandoned village. At least it seemed to be abandoned, until Jack-Be-Lucky blew two short blasts and two long ones on his hunting horn. Then all sorts of people came crawling out of the ruins and up from secret cellars. They had ale and dried apples and some stale barley bread, and the outlaws had a goose that Anguy had brought down on the ride, so supper that night was almost a feast.\n\nArya was sucking the last bit of meat off awing when one of the villagers turned to Lem Lemoncloak and said, \"There were men through here not two days past, looking for the Kingslayer.\"\n\nLem snorted. \"They'd do better looking in Riverrun. Down in the deepest dungeons, where it's nice and damp.\" His nose looked like a squashed apple, red and raw and swollen, and his mood was foul.\n\n\"No,\" another villager said. \"He's escaped.\"\n\nThe Kingslayer. Arya could feel the hair on the back of her neck prickling. She held her breath to listen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Could that be true?\" Tom o' Sevens said.\n\n\"I'll not believe it,\" said the one-eyed man in the rusty pothelm. The other outlaws called him Jack-Be-Lucky, though losing an eye didn't seem very lucky to Arya. \"I've had me a taste o\" them dungeons. How could he escape?\"\n\nThe villagers could only shrug at that. Greenbeard stroked his thick grey-and-green whiskers and said, \"The wolves will drown in blood if the Kingslayer's loose again. Thoros must be told. The Lord of Light will show him Lannister in the flames.\"\n\n\"There's a fine fire burning here,\" said Anguy, smiling.\n\nGreenbeard laughed, and cuffed the archer's ear. \"Do I look a priest to you, Archer? When Pello of Tyrosh peers into the fire, the cinders singe his beard.\"\n\nLem cracked his knuckles and said, \"Wouldn't Lord Beric love to capture Jaime Lannister, though...\"\n\n\"Would he hang him, Lem?\" one of the village women asked. \"It'd behalf a shame to hang a man as pretty as that one.\"\n\n\"Atrial first!\" said Anguy. \"Lord Beric always gives them atrial, you know that.\" He smiled. \"Then he hangs them.\"\n\nThere was laughter all around. Then Tom drew his fingers across the strings of his woodharp and broke into soft song.\n\nThe brothers of the Kingswood,\n\nthey were an outlaw band.\n\nThe forest was their castle,\n\nbut they roamed across the land.\n\nNo man's gold was safe from them,\n\nnor any maiden's hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Oh, the brothers of the Kingswood,\n\nthat fearsome outlaw band...\n\nWarm and dry in a corner between Gendry and Harwin, Arya listened to the singing fora time, then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. She dreamt of home; not Riverrun, but Winterfell. It was not a good dream, though. She was alone outside the castle, up to her knees in mud. She could seethe grey walls ahead of her, but when she tried to reach the gates every step seemed harder than the one before, and the castle faded before her, until it looked more like smoke than granite. And there werewolves as well, gaunt grey shapes stalking through the trees all around her, their eyes shining. Whenever she looked at them, she remembered the taste of blood.\n\nThe next morning they left the road to cut across the fields. The wind was gusting, sending dry brown leaves swirling around the hooves of their horses, but for once it did not rain. When the sun came out from behind a cloud, it was so bright Arya had to pull her hood forward to keep it out of her eyes.\n\nShe reined up very suddenly. \"We are going the wrong way!\"\n\nGendry groaned. \"What is it, moss again?\"\n\n\"Look at the sun,\" she said. \"We're going south!\" Arya rummaged in her saddlebag for the map, so she could show them. \"We should never have left the Trident. See.\" She unrolled the map on her leg. All of them were looking at her now. \"See, there's Riverrun, between the rivers.\"\n\n\"As it happens,\" said Jack-Be-Lucky, \"we know where Riverrun is. Every man o' us.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're not going to Riverrun,\" Lem told her bluntly.\n\nI was almost there, Arya thought. I should have let them take our horses. I could have walked the rest of the way. She remembered her dream then, and bit her lip.\n\n\"Ah, don't look so hurt, child,\" said Tom Sevenstrings. \"No harm will come to you, you have my word on that.\"\n\n\"The word of a liar!\"\n\n\"No one lied,\" said Lem. \"We made no promises. It's not for us to say what's to be done with you.\"\n\nLem was not the leader, though, no more than Tom; that was Greenbeard, the Tyroshi. Arya turned to face him. \"Take me to Riverrun and you'll be rewarded,\" she said desperately.\n\n\"Little one,\" Greenbeard answered, \"a peasant may skin a common squirrel for his pot, but if he finds a gold squirrel in his tree he takes it to his lord, or he will wish he did.\"\n\n\"I'm not a squirrel,\" Arya insisted.\n\n\"You are.\" Greenbeard laughed. \"A little gold squirrel who's off to seethe lightning lord, whether she wills it or not. He'll know what's to be done with you. I'll wager he sends you back to your lady mother, just as you wish.\"\n\nTom Sevenstrings nodded. \"Aye, that's like Lord Beric. He'll do right by you, see if he don't.\"\n\nLord Beric Dondarrion. Arya remembered all she'd heard at Harrenhal, from the Lannisters and the Bloody Mummers alike. Lord Beric the wisp o\" the wood. Lord Beric who'd been killed by Vargo Hoat and before that by Ser Amory Lorch, and twice by the Mountain That Rides. If he won't send me home maybe I'll kill him too. \"Why do I have to see Lord Beric?\" she asked quietly."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's narrative assistant, advance the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 21"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This is my daughter's wedding-\"\n\n\"-and my grandson's,\" said Lord Tywin firmly. \"No place for old quarrels, surely?\"\n\n\"I have no quarrel with Doran Martell,\" insisted Lord Tyrell, though his tone was more than a little grudging. \"If he wishes to cross the Reach in peace, he need only ask my leave.\"\n\nSmall chance of that, thought Tyrion. He'll climb the Boneway, turn east near Summerhall, and come up the kingsroad.\n\n\"Three hundred Dornishmen need not trouble our plans,\" said Cersei. \"We can feed the men-at-arms in the yard, squeeze some extra benches into the throne room for the lordlings and highborn knights, and find Prince Doran a place of honor on the dais.\"\n\nNot by me, was the message Tyrion saw in Mace Tyrell's eyes, but the Lord of Highgarden made no reply but a curt nod.\n\n\"Perhaps we can move to a more pleasant task,\" said Lord Tywin. \"The fruits of victory await division.\"\n\n\"What could be sweeter?\" said Littlefinger, who had already swallowed his own fruit, Harrenhal.\n\nEach lord had his own demands; this castle and that village, tracts of lands, a small river, a forest, the wardship of certain minors left fatherless by the battle. Fortunately, these fruits were plentiful, and there were orphans and castles for all. Varys had lists. Forty-seven lesser lordlings and six hundred nineteen knights had lost their lives beneath the fiery heart of Stannis and his Lord of Light, along with several thousand common men-at-arms. Traitors all, their heirs were disinherited, their lands and castles granted to those who had proved more loyal."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Highgarden reaped the richest harvest. Tyrion eyed Mace Tyrell's broad belly and thought, He has a prodigious appetite, this one. Tyrell demanded the lands and castles of Lord Alester Florent, his own bannerman, who'd had the singular ill judgment to back first Renly and then Stannis. Lord Tywin was pleased to oblige. Brightwater Keep and all its lands and incomes were granted to Lord Tyrell's second son, Ser Garlan, transforming him into a great lord in the blink of an eye. His elder brother, of course, stood to inherit Highgarden itself.\n\nLesser tracts were granted to Lord Rowan, and set aside for Lord Tarly, Lady Oakheart, Lord Hightower, and other worthies not present. Lord Redwyne asked only for thirty years'remission of the taxes that Littlefinger and his wine factors had levied on certain of the Arbor's finest vintages. When that was granted, he pronounced himself well satisfied and suggested that they send fora cask of Arbor gold, to toast good King Joffrey and his wise and benevolent Hand. At that Cersei lost patience. \"It's swords Joff needs, not toasts,\" she snapped. \"His realm is still plagued with would-be usurpers and self-styled kings.\"\n\n\"But not for long, I think,\" said Varys unctuously.\n\n\"A few more items remain, my lords.\" Ser Kevan consulted his papers. \"Ser Addam has found some crystals from the High Septon's crown. It appears certain now that the thieves broke up the crystals and melted down the gold.\"\n\n\"Our Father Above knows their guilt and will sit in judgment on them all,\" the High Septon said piously.\n\n\"No doubt he will,\" said Lord Tywin. \"All the same, you must be crowned at the king's wedding. Cersei, summon your goldsmiths, we must see to a replacement.\" He did not wait for her reply, but turned at once to Varys. \"You have reports?\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"value": "The eunuch drew a parchment from his sleeve. \"A kraken has been seen off the Fingers.\" He giggled. \"Not a Greyjoy, mind you, a true kraken. It attacked an Ibbenese whaler and pulled it under. There is fighting on the Stepstones, and anew war between Tyrosh and Lys seems likely. Both hope to win Myr as ally. Sailors back from the Jade Sea report that a three-headed dragon has hatched in Qarth, and is the wonder of that city-\"\n\n\"Dragons and krakens do not interest me, regardless of the number of their heads,\" said Lord Tywin. \"Have your whisperers perchance found some trace of my brother's son?\"\n\n\"Alas, our beloved Tyrek has quite vanished, the poor brave lad.\" Varys sounded close to tears.\n\n\"Tywin,\" Ser Kevan said, before Lord Tywin could vent his obvious displeasure, \"some of the gold cloaks who deserted during the battle have drifted back to barracks, thinking to take up duty once again. Ser Addam wishes to know what to do with them.\"\n\n\"They might have endangered Joff with their cowardice,\" Cersei said at once. \"I want them put to death.\"\n\nVarys sighed. \"They have surely earned death, Your Grace, none can deny it. And yet, perhaps we might be wiser to send them to the Night's Watch. We have had disturbing messages from the Wall of late. Of wildlings astir...\"\n\n\"Wildlings, krakens, and dragons.\" Mace Tyrell chuckled. \"Why, is there anyone not stirring?\"\n\nLord Tywin ignored that. \"The deserters serve us best as a lesson. Break their knees with hammers. They will not run again. Nor will any man who sees them begging in the streets.\" He glanced down the table to see if any of the other lords disagreed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tyrion remembered his own visit to the Wall, and the crabs he'd shared with old Lord Mormont and his officers."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He remembered the Old Bear's fears as well. \"Perhaps we might break the knees of a few to make our point. Those who killed Ser Jacelyn, say. The rest we can send to Marsh. The Watch is grievously under strength. If the Wall should fail...\"\n\n\"... the wildlings will flood the north,\" his father finished, \"and the Starks and Greyjoys will have another enemy to contend with. They no longer wish to be subject to the Iron Throne, it would seem, so by what right do they look to the Iron Throne for aid? King Robb and King Balon both claim the north. Let them defend it, if they can. And if not, this Mance Rayder might even prove a useful ally.\" Lord Tywin looked to his brother. \"Is there more?\"\n\nSer Kevan shook his head. \"We are done. My lords, His Grace King Joffrey would no doubt wish to thank you all for your wisdom and good counsel.\"\n\n\"I should like private words with my children,\" said Lord Tywin as the others rose to leave. \"You as well, Kevan.\"\n\nObediently, the other councillors made their farewells, Varys the first to depart and Tyrell and Redwyne the last. When the chamber was empty but for the four Lannisters, Ser Kevan closed the door.\n\n\"Master of coin?\" said Tyrion in a thin strained voice. \"Whose notion was that, pray?\"\n\n\"Lord Petyr's,\" his father said, \"but it serves us well to have the treasury in the hands of a Lannister. You have asked for important work. Do you fear you might be incapable of the task?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Tyrion, \"I fear a trap. Littlefinger is subtle and ambitious. I do not trust him. Nor should you.\""
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He won Highgarden to our side...\" Cersei began.\n\n\"... and sold you Ned Stark, I know. He will sell us just as quick. A coin is as dangerous as a sword in the wrong hands.\"\n\nHis uncle Kevan looked at him oddly. \"Not to us, surely. The gold of Casterly Rock...\"\n\n\"... is dug from the ground. Littlefinger's gold is made from thin air, with a snap of his fingers.\"\n\n\"A more useful skill than any of yours, sweet brother,\" purred Cersei, in a voice sweet with malice.\n\n\"Littlefinger is a liar-\"\n\n\"-and black as well, said the raven of the crow.\"\n\nLord Tywin slammed his hand down on the table. \"Enough! I will have no more of this unseemly squabbling. You are both Lannisters, and will comport yourselves as such.\"\n\nSer Kevan cleared his throat. \"I would sooner have Petyr Baelish ruling the Eyrie than any of Lady Lysa's other suitors. Yohn Royce, Lyn Corbray, Horton Redfort... these are dangerous men, each in his own way. And proud. Littlefinger maybe clever, but he has neither high birth nor skill at arms. The lords of the Vale will never accept such as their liege.\" He looked to his brother. When Lord Tywin nodded, he continued. \"And there is this-Lord Petyr continues to demonstrate his loyalty. Only yesterday he brought us word of a Tyrell plot to spirit Sansa Stark off to Highgarden fora'visit, \"and there marry her to Lord Mace's eldest son, Willas.\"\n\n\"Littlefinger brought you word?\" Tyrion leaned against the table. \"Not our master of whisperers? How interesting.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Cersei looked at their uncle in disbelief."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sansa is my hostage. She goes nowhere without my leave.\"\n\n\"Leave you must perforce grant, should Lord Tyrell ask,\" their father pointed out. \"To refuse him would be tantamount to declaring that we did not trust him. He would take offense.\"\n\n\"Let him. What do we care?\"\n\nBloody fool, thought Tyrion. \"Sweet sister,\" he explained patiently, \"offend Tyrell and you offend Redwyne, Tarly, Rowan, and Hightower as well, and perhaps start them wondering whether Robb Stark might not be more accommodating of their desires.\"\n\n\"I will not have the rose and the direwolf in bed together,\" declared Lord Tywin. \"We must forestall him.\"\n\n\"How?\" asked Cersei.\n\n\"By marriage. Yours, to begin with.\"\n\nIt came so suddenly that Cersei could only stare fora moment. Then her cheeks reddened as if she had been slapped. \"No. Not again. I will not.\"\n\n\"Your Grace,\" said Ser Kevan, courteously, \"you area young woman, still fair and fertile. Surely you cannot wish to spend the rest of your days alone? And anew marriage would put to rest this talk of incest for good and all.\"\n\n\"So long as you remain unwed, you allow Stannis to spread his disgusting slander,\" Lord Tywin told his daughter. \"You must have anew husband in your bed, to father children on you.\"\n\n\"Three children is quite sufficient. I am Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not a broodmare! The Queen Regent!\"\n\n\"You are my daughter, and will do as I command.\"\n\nShe stood. \"I will not sit here and listen to this-\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You will if you wish to have any voice in the choice of your next husband,\" Lord Tywin said calmly.\n\nWhen she hesitated, then sat, Tyrion knew she was lost, despite her loud declaration of, \"I will not marry again!\"\n\n\"You will marry and you will breed. Every child you birth makes Stannis more a liar.\" Their father's eyes seemed to pin her to her chair. \"Mace Tyrell, Paxter Redwyne, and Doran Martell are wed to younger women likely to outlive them. Balon Greyjoy's wife is elderly and failing, but such a match would commit us to an alliance with the Iron Islands, and I am still uncertain whether that would be our wisest course.\"\n\n\"No,\" Cersei said from between white lips. \"No, no, no.\"\n\nTyrion could not quite suppress the grin that came to his lips at the thought of packing his sister off to Pyke. Just when I was about to give up praying, some sweet god gives me this.\n\nLord Tywin went on. \"Oberyn Martell might suit, but the Tyrells would take that very ill. So we must look to the sons. I assume you do not object to wedding a man younger than yourself?\"\n\n\"I object to wedding any-\"\n\n\"I have considered the Redwyne twins, Theon Greyjoy, Quentyn Martell, and a number of others. But our alliance with Highgarden was the sword that broke Stannis. It should be tempered and made stronger. Ser Loras has taken the white and Ser Garlan is wed to one of the Fossoways, but there remains the eldest son, the boy they scheme towed to Sansa Stark.\"\n\nWillas Tyrell. Tyrion was taking a wicked pleasure in Cersei's helpless fury. \"That would be the cripple,\" he said."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Their father chilled him with a look. \"Willas is heir to Highgarden, and by all reports a mild and courtly young man, fond of reading books and looking at the stars. He has a passion for breeding animals as well, and owns the finest hounds, hawks, and horses in the Seven Kingdoms.\"\n\nA perfect match, mused Tyrion. Cersei also has a passion for breeding. He pitied poor Willas Tyrell, and did not know whether he wanted to laugh at his sister or weep for her.\n\n\"The Tyrell heir would be my choice,\" Lord Tywin concluded, \"but if you would prefer another, I will hear your reasons.\"\n\n\"That is so very kind of you, Father,\" Cersei said with icy courtesy. \"It is such a difficult choice you give me. Who would I sooner take to bed, the old squid or the crippled dog boy? I shall need a few days to consider. Do I have your leave to go?\"\n\nYou are the queen, Tyrion wanted to tell her. He ought to be begging leave of you.\n\n\"Go,\" their father said. \"We shall talk again after you have composed yourself. Remember your duty.\"\n\nCersei swept stiffly from the room, her rage plain to see. Yet in the end she will do as Father bid. She had proved that with Robert. Though there is Jaime to consider. Their brother had been much younger when Cersei wed the first time; he might not acquiesce to a second marriage quite so easily. The unfortunate Willas Tyrell was like to contract a sudden fatal case of sword-through-bowels, which could rather sour the alliance between Highgarden and Casterly Rock. I should say something, but what? Pardon me, Father, but it's our brother she wants to marry?"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tyrion.\"\n\nHe gave a resigned smile. \"Do I hear the herald summoning me to the lists?\"\n\n\"Your whoring is a weakness in you,\" Lord Tywin said without preamble, \"but perhaps some share of the blame is mine. Since you stand no taller than a boy, I have found it easy to forget that you are in truth a man grown, with all of a man's baser needs. It is past time you were wed.\"\n\nI was wed, or have you forgotten? Tyrion's mouth twisted, and the noise emerged that was half laugh and half snarl.\n\n\"Does the prospect of marriage amuse you?\"\n\n\"Only imagining what a bugger-all handsome bridegroom I'll make.\" A wife might be the very thing he needed. If she brought him lands and a keep, it would give him a place in the world apart from Joffrey's court... and away from Cersei and their father.\n\nOn the other hand, there was Shae. She will not like this, for all she swears that she is content to be my whore.\n\nThat was scarcely a point to sway his father, however, so Tyrion squirmed higher in his seat and said, \"You mean towed me to Sansa Stark. But won't the Tyrells take the match as an affront, if they have designs on the girl?\"\n\n\"Lord Tyrell will not broach the matter of the Stark girl until after Joffrey's wedding. If Sansa is wed before that, how can he take offense, when he gave us no hint of his intentions?\"\n\n\"Quite so,\" said Ser Kevan, \"and any lingering resentments should be soothed by the offer of Cersei for his Willas.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion rubbed at the raw stub of his nose. The scar tissue itched abominably sometimes. \"His Grace the royal pustule has made Sansa's life a misery since the day her father died, and now that she is finally rid of Joffrey you propose to marry her tome. That seems singularly cruel. Even for you, Father.\"\n\n\"Why, do you plan to mistreat her?\" His father sounded more curious than concerned. \"The girl's happiness is not my purpose, nor should it be yours. Our alliances in the south maybe as solid as Casterly Rock, but there remains the north to win, and the key to the north is Sansa Stark.\"\n\n\"She is no more than a child.\"\n\n\"Your sister swears she's flowered. If so, she is a woman, fit to be wed. You must needs take her maidenhead, so no man can say the marriage was not consummated. After that, if you prefer to wait a year or two before bedding her again, you would be within your rights as her husband.\"\n\nShae is all the woman I need just now, he thought, and Sansa's a girl, no matter what you say. \"If your purpose here is to keep her from the Tyrells, why not return her to her mother? Perhaps that would convince Robb Stark to bend the knee.\"\n\nLord Tywin's look was scornful. \"Send her to Riverrun and her mother will match her with a Blackwood or a Mallister to shore up her son's alliances along the Trident. Send her north, and she will be wed to some Manderly or Umber before the moon turns. Yet she is no less dangerous here at court, as this business with the Tyrells should prove. She must marry a Lannister, and soon.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The man who weds Sansa Stark can claim Winterfell in her name,\" his uncle Kevan put in."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Had that not occurred to you?\"\n\n\"If you will not have the girl, we shall give her to one of your cousins,\" said his father. \"Kevan, is Lancel strong enough towed, do you think?\"\n\nSer Kevan hesitated. \"If we bring the girl to his bedside, he could say the words... but to consummate, no... I would suggest one of the twins, but the Starks hold them both at Riverrun. They have Genna's boy Tion as well, else he might serve.\"\n\nTyrion let them have their byplay; it was all for his benefit, he knew. Sansa Stark, he mused. Soft-spoken sweet-smelling Sansa, who loved silks, songs, chivalry and tall gallant knights with handsome faces. He felt as though he was back on the bridge of boats, the deck shifting beneath his feet.\n\n\"You asked me to reward you for your efforts in the battle,\" Lord Tywin reminded him forcefully. \"This is a chance for you, Tyrion, the best you are ever likely to have.\" He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. \"I once hoped to marry your brother to Lysa Tully, but Aerys named Jaime to his Kingsguard before the arrangements were complete. When I suggested to Lord Hoster that Lysa might be wed to you instead, he replied that he wanted a whole man for his daughter.\"\n\nSo hewed her to Jon Arryn, who was old enough to be her grandfather. Tyrion was more inclined to be thankful than angry, considering what Lysa Arryn had become.\n\n\"When I offered you to Dorne I was told that the suggestion was an insult,\" Lord Tywin continued. \" In later years I had similar answers from Yohn Royce and Leyton Hightower. I finally stooped so low as to suggest you might take the Florent girl Robert deflowered in his brother's wedding bed, but her father preferred to give her to one of his own household knights."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If you will not have the Stark girl, I shall find you another wife. Somewhere in the realm there is doubtless some little lordling who'd gladly part with a daughter to win the friendship of Casterly Rock. Lady Tanda has offered Lollys...\"\n\nTyrion gave a shudder of dismay. \"I'd sooner cut it off and feed it to the goats.\"\n\n\"Then open your eyes. The Stark girl is young, nubile, tractable, of the highest birth, and still a maid. She is not uncomely. Why would you hesitate?\"\n\nWhy indeed? \"A quirk of mine. Strange to say, I would prefer a wife who wants me in her bed.\"\n\n\"If you think your whores want you in their bed, you are an even greater fool than I suspected,\" said Lord Tywin. \"You disappoint me, Tyrion. I had hoped this match would please you.\"\n\n\"Yes, we all know how important my pleasure is to you, Father. But there's more to this. The key to the north, you say? The Greyjoys hold the north now, and King Balon has a daughter. Why Sansa Stark, and not her?\" He looked into his father's cool green eyes with their bright flecks of gold.\n\nLord Tywin steepled his fingers beneath his chin. \"Balon Greyjoy thinks in terms of plunder, not rule. Let him enjoy an autumn crown and suffer a northern winter. He will give his subjects no cause to love him. Come spring, the northmen will have had a bellyful of krakens. When you bring Eddard Stark's grandson home to claim his birthright, lords and little folk alike will rise as one to place him on the high seat of his ancestors. You are capable of getting a woman with child, I hope?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I believe I am,\" he said, bristling. \"I confess, I cannot prove it. Though no one can say I have not tried. Why, I plant my little seeds just as often as I can...\"\n\n\"In the gutters and the ditches,\" finished Lord Tywin, \"and in common ground where only bastard weeds take root. It is past time you kept your own garden.\" He rose to his feet. \"You shall never have Casterly Rock, I promise you. But wed Sansa Stark, and it is just possible that you might win Winterfell.\"\n\nTyrion Lannister, Lord Protector of Winterfell. The prospect gave him a queer chill. \"Very good, Father,\" he said slowly, \"but there's a big ugly roach in your rushes. Robb Stark is as capable as I am, presumably, and sworn to marry one of those fertile Freys. And once the Young Wolf sires a litter, any pups that Sansa births are heirs to nothing.\"\n\nLord Tywin was unconcerned. \"Robb Stark will father no children on his fertile Frey, you have my word. There is a bit of news I have not yet seen fit to share with the council, though no doubt the good lords will hear it soon enough. The Young Wolf has taken Gawen Westerling's eldest daughter to wife.\"\n\nFora moment Tyrion could not believe he'd heard his father right. \"He broke his sworn word?\" he said, incredulous. \"He threw away the Freys for...\" Words failed him.\n\n\"A maid of sixteen years, named Jeyne,\" said Ser Kevan. \"Lord Gawen once suggested her tome for Willem or Martyn, but I had to refuse him. Gawen is a good man, but his wife is Sybell Spicer. He should never have wed her. The Westerlings always did have more honor than sense. Lady Sybell's grandfather was a trader in saffron and pepper, almost as lowborn as that smuggler Stannis keeps. And the grandmother was some woman he'd brought back from the east. A frightening old crone, supposed to be a priestess. Maegi, they called her. No one could pronounce her real name. Half of Lannisport used to go to her for cures and love potions and the like.\" He shrugged. \"She's long dead, to be sure. And Jeyne seemed a sweet child, I'll grant you, though I only saw her once. But with such doubtful blood...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Having once married a whore, Tyrion could not entirely share his uncle's horror at the thought of wedding a girl whose great grandfather sold cloves. Even so... A sweet child, Ser Kevan had said, but many a poison was sweet as well. The Westerlings were old blood, but they had more pride than power. It would not surprise him to learn that Lady Sybell had brought more wealth to the marriage than her highborn husband. The Westerling mines had failed years ago, their best lands had been sold off or lost, and the Crag was more ruin than stronghold. A romantic ruin, though, jutting up so brave above the sea. \"I am surprised,\" Tyrion had to confess. \"I thought Robb Stark had better sense.\"\n\n\"He is a boy of sixteen,\" said Lord Tywin. \"At that age, sense weighs for little, against lust and love and honor.\"\n\n\"He forswore himself, shamed anally, betrayed a solemn promise. Where is the honor in that?\"\n\nSer Kevan answered. \"He chose the girl's honor over his own. Once he had deflowered her, he had no other course.\"\n\n\"It would have been kinder to leave her with a bastard in her belly,\" said Tyrion bluntly. The Westerlings stood to lose everything here; their lands, their castle, their very lives. A Lannister always pays his debts.\n\n\"Jeyne Westerling is her mother's daughter,\" said Lord Tywin, \"and Robb Stark is his father's son.\"\n\nThis Westerling betrayal did not seem to have enraged his father as much as Tyrion would have expected. Lord Tywin did not suffer disloyalty in his vassals. He had extinguished the proud Reynes of Castamere and the ancient Tarbecks of Tarbeck Hall root and branch when he was still half a boy. The singers had even made a rather gloomy song of it. Some years later, when Lord Farman of Faircastle grew truculent, Lord Tywin sent an envoy bearing a lute instead of a letter. But once he'd heard'The Rains of Castamere\" echoing through his hall, Lord Farman gave no further trouble. And if the song were not enough, the shattered castles of the Reynes and Tarbecks still stood as mute testimony to the fate that awaited those who chose to scorn the power of Casterly Rock. \"The Crag is not so far from Tarbeck Hall and Castamere,\" Tyrion pointed out. \"You'd think the Westerlings might have ridden past and seen the lesson there.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Mayhaps they have,\" Lord Tywin said. \"They are well aware of Castamere, I promise you.\"\n\n\"Could the Westerlings and Spicers be such great fools as to believe the wolf can defeat the lion?\"\n\nEvery once in a very long while, Lord Tywin Lannister would actually threaten to smile; he never did, but the threat alone was terrible to behold. \"The greatest fools are ofttimes more clever than the men who laugh at them,\" he said, and then, \"You will marry Sansa Stark, Tyrion. And soon.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "CATELYN\n\nThey carried the corpses in upon their shoulders and laid them beneath the dais. A silence fell across the torchlit hall, and in the quiet Catelyn could hear Grey Wind howling half a castle away. He smells the blood, she thought, through stonewalls and wooden doors, through night and rain, he still knows the scent of death and ruin.\n\nShe stood at Robb's left hand beside the high seat, and fora moment felt almost as if she were looking down at her own dead, at Bran and Rickon. These boys had been much older, but death had shrunken them. Naked and wet, they seemed such little things, so still it was hard to remember them living.\n\nThe blond boy had been trying to grow a beard. Pale yellow peach fuzz covered his cheeks and jaw above the red ruin the knife had made of his throat. His long golden hair was still wet, as if he had been pulled from a bath. By the look of him, he had died peacefully, perhaps in sleep, but his brown-haired cousin had fought for life. His arms bore slashes where he'd tried to block the blades, and red still trickled slowly from the stab wounds that covered his chest and belly and back like so many tongueless mouths, though the rain had washed him almost clean.\n\nRobb had donned his crown before coming to the hall, and the bronze shone darkly in the torchlight. Shadows hid his eyes as he looked upon the dead. Does he see Bran and Rickon as well? She might have wept, but there were no tears left in her. The dead boys were pale from long imprisonment, and both had been fair; against their smooth white skin, the blood was shockingly red, unbearable to look upon. Will they lay Sansa down naked beneath the Iron Throne after they have killed her? Will her skin seem as white, her blood as red? From outside came the steady wash of rain and the restless howling of a wolf."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her brother Edmure stood to Robb's right, one hand upon the back of his father's seat, his face still puffy from sleep. They had woken him as they had her, pounding on his door in the black of night to yank him rudely from his dreams. Were they good dreams, brother? Do you dream of sunlight and laughter and a maiden's kisses? I pray you do. Her own dreams were dark and laced with terrors.\n\nRobb's captains and lords bannermen stood about the hall, some mailed and armed, others in various states of dishevelment and undress. Ser Raynald and his uncle Ser Rolph were among them, but Robb had seen fit to spare his queen this ugliness. The Crag is not far from Casterly Rock, Catelyn recalled. Jeyne may well have played with these boys when all of them were children.\n\nShe looked down again upon the corpses of the squires Tion Frey and Willem Lannister, and waited for her son to speak.\n\nIt seemed a very longtime before Robb lifted his eyes from the bloody dead. \"Smalljon,\" he said, \"tell your father to bring them in.\" Wordless, Smalljon Umber turned to obey, his steps echoing in the great stone hall.\n\nAs the Greatjon marched his prisoners through the doors, Catelyn made note of how some other men stepped back to give them room, as if treason could somehow be passed by a touch, a glance, a cough. The captors and the captives looked much alike; big men, everyone, with thick beards and longhair. Two of the Greatjon's men were wounded, and three of their prisoners. Only the fact that some had spears and others empty scabbards served to set them apart. All were clad in mail hauberks or shirts of sewn rings, with heavy boots and thick cloaks, some of wool and some of fur. The north is hard and cold, and has no mercy, Ned had told her when she first came to Winterfell a thousand years ago."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Five,\" said Robb when the prisoners stood before him, wet and silent. \"Is that all of them?\"\n\n\"There were eight,\" rumbled the Greatjon. \"We killed two taking them, and a third is dying now.\"\n\nRobb studied the faces of the captives. \"It required eight of you to kill two unarmed squires.\"\n\nEdmure Tully spoke up. \"They murdered two of my men as well, to get into the tower. Delp and Elwood.\"\n\n\"It was no murder, ser,\" said Lord Rickard Karstark, no more discomfited by the ropes about his wrists than by the blood that trickled down his face. \"Any man who steps between a father and his vengeance asks for death.\"\n\nHis words rang against Catelyn's ears, harsh and cruel as the pounding of a war drum. Her throat was dry as bone. I did this. These two boys died so my daughters might live.\n\n\"I saw your sons die, that night in the Whispering Wood,\" Robb told Lord Karstark. \"Tion Frey did not kill Torrhen. Willem Lannister did not slay Eddard. How then can you call this vengeance? This was folly, and bloody murder. Your sons died honorably on a battlefield, with swords in their hands.\"\n\n\"They died,\" said Rickard Karstark, yielding no inch of ground. \"The Kingslayer cut them down. These two were of his ilk. Only blood can pay for blood.\"\n\n\"The blood of children?\" Robb pointed at the corpses. \"How old were they? Twelve, thirteen? Squires.\"\n\n\"Squires die in every battle.\"\n\n\"Die fighting, yes. Tion Frey and Willem Lannister gave up their swords in the Whispering Wood. They were captives, locked in a cell, asleep, unarmed... boys. Look at them!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Karstark looked instead at Catelyn. \"Tell your mother to look at them,\" he said. \"She slew them, as much as I.\"\n\nCatelyn put a hand on the back of Robb's seat. The hall seemed to spin about her. She felt as though she might retch.\n\n\"My mother had naught to do with this,\" Robb said angrily. \"This was your work. Your murder. Your treason.\"\n\n\"How can it be treason to kill Lannisters, when it is not treason to free them?\" asked Karstark harshly. \"Has Your Grace forgotten that we are at war with Casterly Rock? In war you kill your enemies. Didn't your father teach you that, boy?\"\n\n\"Boy?\" The Greatjon dealt Rickard Karstark a buffet with a mailed fist that sent the other lord to his knees.\n\n\"Leave him!\" Robb's voice rang with command. Umber stepped back away from the captive.\n\nLord Karstark spit out a broken tooth. \"Yes, Lord Umber, leave me to the king. He means to give me a scolding before he forgives me. That's how he deals with treason, our King in the North.\" He smiled a wet red smile. \"Or should I call you the King Who Lost the North, Your Grace?\"\n\nThe Greatjon snatched a spear from the man beside him and jerked it to his shoulder. \"Let me spit him, sire. Let me open his belly so we can seethe color of his guts.\"\n\nThe doors of the hall crashed open, and the Blackfish entered with water running from his cloak and helm. Tully men-at-arms followed him in, while outside lightning cracked across the sky and a hard black rain pounded against the stones of Riverrun. Ser Brynden removed his helm and went to one knee. \"Your Grace,\" was all he said, but the grimness of his tone spoke volumes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will hear Ser Brynden privily, in the audience chamber.\" Robb rose to his feet. \"Greatjon, keep Lord Karstark here till I return, and hang the other seven.\"\n\nThe Greatjon lowered the spear. \"Even the dead ones?\"\n\n\"Yes. I will not have such fouling my lord uncle's rivers. Let them feed the crows.\"\n\nOne of the captives dropped to his knees. \"Mercy, sire. I killed no one, I only stood at the door to watch for guards.\"\n\nRobb considered that a moment. \"Did you know what Lord Rickard intended? Did you seethe knives drawn? Did you hear the shouts, the screams, the cries for mercy?\"\n\n\"Aye, I did, but I took no part. I was only the watcher, I swear it...\"\n\n\"Lord Umber,\" said Robb, \"this one was only the watcher. Hang him last, so he may watch the others die. Mother, Uncle, with me, if you please.\" He turned away as the Greatjon's men closed upon the prisoners and drove them from the hall at spearpoint. Outside the thunder crashed and boomed, so loud it sounded as if the castle were coming down about their ears. Is this the sound of a kingdom falling? Catelyn wondered.\n\nIt was dark within the audience chamber, but at least the sound of the thunder was muffled by another thickness of wall. A servant entered with an oil lamp to light the fire, but Robb sent him away and kept the lamp. There were tables and chairs, but only Edmure sat, and he rose again when he realized that the others had remainded standing. Robb took off his crown and placed it on the table before him."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Blackfish shut the door. \"The Karstarks are gone.\"\n\n\"All?\" Was it anger or despair that thickened Robb's voice like that? Even Catelyn was not certain.\n\n\"All the fighting men,\" Ser Brynden replied. \"A few camp followers and serving men were left with their wounded. We questioned as many as we needed, to be certain of the truth. They started leaving at nightfall, stealing off in ones and twos at first, and then in larger groups. The wounded men and servants were told to keep the campfires lit so no one would know they'd gone, but once the rains began it didn't matter.\"\n\n\"Will they re-form, away from Riverrun?\" asked Robb.\n\n\"No. They've scattered, hunting. Lord Karstark has sworn to give the hand of his maiden daughter to any man highborn or low who brings him the head of the Kingslayer.\"\n\nGods be good. Catelyn felt ill again.\n\n\"Near three hundred riders and twice as many mounts, melted away in the night.\" Robb rubbed his temples, where the crown had left its mark in the soft skin above his ears. \"All the mounted strength of Karhold, lost.\"\n\nLost by me. By me, may the gods forgive me. Catelyn did not need to be a soldier to grasp the trap Robb was in. For the moment he held the riverlands, but his kingdom was surrounded by enemies to every side but east, where Lysa sat aloof on her mountaintop. Even the Trident was scarce secure so long as the Lord of the Crossing withheld his allegiance. And now to lose the Karstarks as well...\n\n\"No word of this must leave Riverrun,\" her brother Edmure said. \"Lord Tywin would... the Lannisters pay their debts, they are always saying that. Mother have mercy, when he hears.\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sansa. Catelyn's nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms, so hard did she close her hand.\n\nRobb gave Edmure a look that chilled. \"Would you make me a liar as well as a murderer, Uncle?\"\n\n\"We need speak no falsehood. Only say nothing. Bury the boys and hold our tongues till the war's done. Willem was son to Ser Kevan Lannister, and Lord Tywin's nephew. Tion was Lady Genna's, and a Frey. We must keep the news from the Twins as well, until...\"\n\n\"Until we can bring the murdered dead back to life?\" said Brynden Blackfish sharply. \"The truth escaped with the Karstarks, Edmure. It is too late for such games.\"\n\n\"I owe their fathers truth,\" said Robb. \"And justice. I owe them that as well.\" He gazed at his crown, the dark gleam of bronze, the circle of iron swords. \"Lord Rickard defied me. Betrayed me. I have no choice but to condemn him. Gods know what the Karstark foot with Roose Bolton will do when they hear I've executed their liege fora traitor. Bolton must be warned.\"\n\n\"Lord Karstark's heir was at Harrenhal as well,\" Ser Brynden reminded him. \"The eldest son, the one the Lannisters took captive on the Green Fork.\"\n\n\"Harrion. His name is Harrion.\" Robb laughed bitterly. \"A king had best know the names of his enemies, don't you think?\"\n\nThe Blackfish looked at him shrewdly. \"You know that fora certainty? That this will make young Karstark your enemy?\"\n\n\"What else would he be? I am about to kill his father, he's not like to thank me.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He might. There are sons who hate their fathers, and in a stroke you will make him Lord of Karhold.\"\n\nRobb shook his head. \"Even if Harrion were that sort, he could never openly forgive his father's killer. His own men would turn on him. These are northmen, Uncle. The north remembers.\"\n\n\"Pardon him, then,\" urged Edmure Tully.\n\nRobb stared at him in frank disbelief.\n\nUnder that gaze, Edmure's face reddened. \"Spare his life, I mean. I don't like the taste of it anymore than you, sire. He slew my men as well. Poor Delp had only just recovered from the wound Ser Jaime gave him. Karstark must be punished, certainly. Keep him in chains, I say.\"\n\n\"A hostage?\" said Catelyn. It might be best...\n\n\"Yes, a hostage!\" Her brother seized on her musing as agreement. \"Tell the son that so long as he remains loyal, his father will not be harmed. Otherwise... we have no hope of the Freys now, not if I offered to marry all Lord Walder's daughters and carry his litter besides. If we should lose the Karstarks as well, what hope is there?\"\n\n\"What hope...\" Robb let out a breath, pushed his hair back from his eyes, and said, \"We've had naught from Ser Rodrik in the north, no response from Walder Frey to our new offer, only silence from the Eyrie.\" He appealed to his mother. \"Will your sister never answer us? How many times must I write her? I will not believe that none of the birds have reached her.\"\n\nHer son wanted comfort, Catelyn realized; he wanted to hear that it would be all right. But her king needed truth. \" The birds have reached her. Though she may tell you they did not, if it ever comes to that. Expect no help from that quarter, Robb."
},
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lysa was never brave. When we were girls together, she would run and hide whenever she'd done something wrong. Perhaps she thought our lord father would forget to be wroth with her if he could not find her. It is no different now. She ran from King's Landing for fear, to the safest place she knows, and she sits on her mountain hoping everyone will forget her.\"\n\n\"The knights of the Vale could make all the difference in this war,\" said Robb, \"but if she will not fight, so be it. I've asked only that she open the Bloody Gate for us, and provide ships at Gulltown to take us north. The highroad would be hard, but not so hard as fighting our way up the Neck. If I could land at White Harbor I could flank Moat Cailin and drive the ironmen from the north in half a year.\"\n\n\"It will not happen, sire,\" said the Blackfish. \"Cat is right. Lady Lysa is too fearful to admit an army to the Vale. Any army. The Bloody Gate will remain closed.\"\n\n\"The Others can take her, then,\" Robb cursed, in a fury of despair. \"Bloody Rickard Karstark as well. And Theon Greyjoy, Walder Frey, Tywin Lannister, and all the rest of them. Gods be good, why would any man ever want to be king? When everyone was shouting King in the North, King in the North, I told myself... swore to myself... that I would be a good king, as honorable as Father, strong, just, loyal to my friends and brave when I faced my enemies... now I can't even tell one from the other. How did it all get so confused? Lord Rickard's fought at my side in half a dozen battles. His sons died for me in the Whispering Wood. Tion Frey and Willem Lannister were my enemies. Yet now I have to kill my dead friends'father for their sakes.\" He looked at them all. \"Will the Lannisters thank me for Lord Rickard's head? Will the Freys?\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" said Brynden Blackfish, blunt as ever.\n\n\"All the more reason to spare Lord Rickard's life and keep him hostage,\" Edmure urged.\n\nRobb reached down with both hands, lifted the heavy bronze-and-iron crown, and set it back atop his head, and suddenly he was a king again. \"Lord Rickard dies.\"\n\n\"But why?\" said Edmure. \"You said yourself-\"\n\n\"I know what I said, Uncle. It does not change what I must do.\" The swords in his crown stood stark and black against his brow. \"In battle I might have slain Tion and Willem myself, but this was no battle. They were asleep in their beds, naked and unarmed, in a cell where I put them. Rickard Karstark killed more than a Frey and a Lannister. He killed my honor. I shall deal with him at dawn.\"\n\nWhen day broke, grey and chilly, the storm had diminished to a steady, soaking rain, yet even so the godswood was crowded. River lords and northmen, highborn and low, knights and sellswords and stableboys, they stood amongst the trees to seethe end of the night's dark dance. Edmure had given commands, and a headsman's block had been setup before the heart tree. Rain and leaves fell all around them as the Greatjon's men led Lord Rickard Karstark through the press, hands still bound. His men already hung from Riverrun's high walls, slumping at the end of long ropes as the rain washed down their darkening faces.\n\nLong Lew waited beside the block, but Robb took the poleaxe from his hand and ordered him to step aside. \"This is my work,\" he said. \"He dies at my word. He must die by my hand.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Rickard Karstark dipped his head stiffly. \"For that much, I thank you. But for naught else.\" He had dressed for death in along black wool surcoat emblazoned with the white sunburst of his House. \"The blood of the First Men flows in my veins as much as yours, boy. You would do well to remember that. I was named for your grandfather. I raised my banners against King Aerys for your father, and against King Joffrey for you. At Oxcross and the Whispering Wood and in the Battle of the Camps, I rode beside you, and I stood with Lord Eddard on the Trident. We are kin, Stark and Karstark.\"\n\n\"This kinship did not stop you from betraying me,\" Robb said. \"And it will not save you now. Kneel, my lord.\"\n\nLord Rickard had spoken truly, Catelyn knew. The Karstarks traced their descent to Karlon Stark, a younger son of Winterfell who had put down a rebel lord a thousand years ago, and been granted lands for his valor. The castle he built had been named Karl's Hold, but that soon became Karhold, and over the centuries the Karhold Starks had become Karstarks.\n\n\"Old gods or new, it makes no matter,\" Lord Rickard told her son, \"no man is so accursed as the kinslayer.\"\n\n\"Kneel, traitor,\" Robb said again. \"Or must I have them force your head onto the block?\"\n\nLord Karstark knelt. \"The gods shall judge you, as you have judged me.\" He laid his head upon the block.\n\n\"Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold.\" Robb lifted the heavy axe with both hands. \"Herein sight of gods and men, I judge you guilty of murder and high treason. In mine own name I condemn you. With mine own hand I take your life. Would you speak a final word?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Kill me, and be cursed. You are no king of mine.\"\n\nThe axe crashed down. Heavy and well-honed, it killed at a single blow, but it took three to sever the man's head from his body, and by the time it was done both living and dead were drenched in blood. Robb flung the poleaxe down in disgust, and turned wordless to the heart tree. He stood shaking with his hands half-clenched and the rain running down his cheeks. Gods forgive him, Catelyn prayed in silence. He is only a boy, and he had no other choice.\n\nThat was the last she saw of her son that day. The rain continued all through the morning, lashing the surface of the rivers and turning the godswood grass into mud and puddles. The Blackfish assembled a hundred men and rode out after Karstarks, but no one expected he would bring back many. \"I only pray I do not need to hang them,\" he said as he departed. When he was gone, Catelyn retreated to her father's solar, to sit once more beside Lord Hoster's bed.\n\n\"It will not be much longer,\" Maester Vyman warned her, when he came that afternoon. \"His last strength is going, though still he tries to fight.\"\n\n\"He was ever a fighter,\" she said. \"A sweet stubborn man.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" the maester said, \"but this battle he cannot win. It is time he lay down his sword and shield. Time to yield.\"\n\nTo yield, she thought, to make a peace. Was it her father the maester was speaking of, or her son?\n\nAt evenfall, Jeyne Westerling came to see her. The young queen entered the solar timidly. \"Lady Catelyn, I do not mean to disturb you...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are most welcome here, Your Grace.\" Catelyn had been sewing, but she put the needle aside now.\n\n\"Please. Call me Jeyne. I don't feel like a Grace.\"\n\n\"You are one, nonetheless. Please, come sit, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Jeyne.\" She sat by the hearth and smoothed her skirt out anxiously.\n\n\"As you wish. How might I serve you, Jeyne?\"\n\n\"It's Robb,\" the girl said. \"He's so miserable, so... so angry and disconsolate. I don't know what to do.\"\n\n\"It is a hard thing to take a man's life.\"\n\n\"I know. I told him, he should use a headsman. When Lord Tywin sends a man to die, all he does is give the command. It's easier that way, don't you think?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Catelyn, \"but my lord husband taught his sons that killing should never be easy.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Queen Jeyne wet her lips. \"Robb has not eaten all day. I had Rollam bring him a nice supper, boar's ribs and stewed onions and ale, but he never touched a bite of it. He spent all morning writing a letter and told me not to disturb him, but when the letter was done he burned it. Now he is sitting and looking at maps. I asked him what he was looking for, but he never answered. I don't think he ever heard me. He wouldn't even change out of his clothes. They were damp all day, and bloody. I want to be a good wife to him, I do, but I don't know how to help. To cheer him, or comfort him. I don't know what he needs. Please, my lady, you're his mother, tell me what I should do.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tell me what I should do."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn might have asked the same, if her father had been well enough to ask. But Lord Hoster was gone, or near enough. Her Ned as well. Bran and Rickon too, and Mother, and Brandon so long ago. Only Robb remained to her, Robb and the fading hope of her daughters.\n\n\"Sometimes,\" Catelyn said slowly, \"the best thing you can do is nothing. When I first came to Winterfell, I was hurt whenever Ned went to the godswood to sit beneath his heart tree. Part of his soul was in that tree, I knew, apart I would never share. Yet without that part, I soon realized, he would not have been Ned. Jeyne, child, you have wed the north, as I did... and in the north, the winters will come.\" She tried to smile. \"Be patient. Be understanding. He loves you and he needs you, and he will comeback to you soon enough. This very night, perhaps. Be there when he does. That is all I can tell you.\"\n\nThe young queen listened raptly. \"I will,\" she said when Catelyn was done. \"I'll be there.\" She got to her feet. \"I should go back. He might have missed me. I'll see. But if he's still at his maps, I'll be patient.\"\n\n\"Do,\" said Catelyn, but when the girl was at the door, she thought of something else. \"Jeyne,\" she called after, \"there's one more thing Robb needs from you, though he may not know it yet himself. A king must have an heir.\"\n\nThe girl smiled at that. \"My mother says the same. She makes a posset for me, herbs and milk and ale, to help make me fertile. I drink it every morning. I told Robb I'm sure to give him twins. An Eddard and a Brandon. He liked that, I think. We... we try most everyday, my lady. Sometimes twice or more.\" The girl blushed very prettily. \"I'll be with child soon, I promise. I pray to our Mother Above, every night.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Very good. I will add my prayers as well. To the old gods and the new.\"\n\nWhen the girl had gone, Catelyn turned back to her father and smoothed the thin white hair across his brow. \"An Eddard and a Brandon,\" she sighed softly. \"And perhaps in time a Hoster. Would you like that?\" He did not answer, but she had never expected that he would. As the sound of the rain on the roof mingled with her father's breathing, she thought about Jeyne. The girl did seem to have a good heart, just as Robb had said. And good hips, which might be more important."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nTwo days'ride to either side of the kingsroad, they passed through a wide swath of destruction, miles of blackened fields and orchards where the trunks of dead trees jutted into the air like archers\" stakes. The bridges were burnt as well, and the streams swollen by autumn rains, so they had to range along the banks in search of fords. The nights were alive with howling of wolves, but they saw no people.\n\nAt Maidenpool, Lord Mooton's red salmon still flew above the castle on its hill, but the town walls were deserted, the gates smashed, half the homes and shops burned or plundered. They saw nothing living but a few feral dogs that went slinking away at the sound of their approach. The pool from which the town took its name, where legend said that Florian the Fool had first glimpsed Jonquil bathing with her sisters, was so choked with rotting corpses that the water had turned into a murky grey-green soup.\n\nJaime took one look and burst into song. \"Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool...\"\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Brienne demanded.\n\n\"Singing. \"Six Maids in a Pool,\" I'm sure you've heard it. And shy little maids they were, too. Rather like you. Though somewhat prettier, I'll warrant.\"\n\n\"Be quiet,\" the wench said, with a look that suggested she would love to leave him floating in the pool among the corpses.\n\n\"Please, Jaime,\" pleaded cousin Cleos. \"Lord Mooton is sworn to Riverrun, we don't want to draw him out of his castle. And there maybe other enemies hiding in the rubble...\"\n\n\"Hers or ours? They are not the same, coz. I have a yen to see if the wench can use that sword she wears.\""
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If you won't be quiet, you leave me no choice but to gag you, Kingslayer.\"\n\n\"Unchain my hands and I'll play mute all the way to King's Landing. What could be fairer than that, wench?\"\n\n\"Brienne! My name is Brienne!\" Three crows went flapping into the air, startled at the sound.\n\n\"Care fora bath, Brienne?\" He laughed. \"You're a maiden and there's the pool. I'll wash your back.\" He used to scrub Cersei's back, when they were children together at Casterly Rock.\n\nThe wench turned her horse's head and trotted away. Jaime and Ser Cleos followed her out of the ashes of Maidenpool. A half mile on, green began to creep back into the world once more. Jaime was glad. The burned lands reminded him too much of Aerys.\n\n\"She's taking the Duskendale road,\" Ser Cleos muttered. \"It would be safer to follow the coast.\"\n\n\"Safer but slower. I'm for Duskendale, coz. If truth be told, I'm bored with your company.\" You maybe half Lannister, but you're afar cry from my sister.\n\nHe could never bear to belong apart from his twin. Even as children, they would creep into each other's beds and sleep with their arms entwined. Even in the womb. Long before his sister's flowering or the advent of his own manhood, they had seen mares and stallions in the fields and dogs and bitches in the kennels and played at doing the same. Once their mother's maid had caught them at it... he did not recall just what they had been doing, but whatever it was had horrified Lady Joanna. She'd sent the maid away, moved Jaime's bedchamber to the other side of Casterly Rock, set a guard outside Cersei's, and told them that they must never do that again or she would have no choice but to tell their lord father. They need not have feared, though. It was not long after that she died birthing Tyrion. Jaime barely remembered what his mother had looked like."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perhaps Stannis Baratheon and the Starks had done him a kindness. They had spread their tale of incest allover the Seven Kingdoms, so there was nothing left to hide. Why shouldn't I marry Cersei openly and share her bed every night? The dragons always married their sisters. Septons, lords, and smallfolk had turned a blind eye to the Targaryens for hundreds of years, let them do the same for House Lannister. It would play havoc with Joffrey's claim to the crown, to be sure, but in the end it had been swords that had won the Iron Throne for Robert, and swords could keep Joffrey there as well, regardless of whose seed he was. We could marry him to Myrcella, once we've sent Sansa Stark back to her mother. That would show the realm that the Lannisters are above their laws, like gods and Targaryens.\n\nJaime had decided that he would return Sansa, and the younger girl as well if she could be found. It was not like to win him back his lost honor, but the notion of keeping faith when they all expected betrayal amused him more than he could say.\n\nThey were riding pasta trampled wheatfield and a low stonewall when Jaime heard a soft thrum from behind, as if a dozen birds had taken flight at once. \"Down!\" he shouted, throwing himself against the neck of his horse. The gelding screamed and reared as an arrow took him in the rump. Other shafts went hissing past. Jaime saw Ser Cleos lurch from the saddle, twisting as his foot caught in the stirrup. His palfrey bolted, and Frey was dragged past shouting, head bouncing against the ground.\n\nJaime's gelding lumbered off ponderously, blowing and snorting in pain. He craned around to look for Brienne. She was still ahorse, an arrow lodged in her back and another in her leg, but she seemed not to feel them. He saw her pull her sword and wheel in a circle, searching for the bowmen. \"Behind the wall,\" Jaime called, fighting to turn his half-blind mount back toward the fight. The reins were tangled in his damned chains, and the air was full of arrows again. \"At them!\" he shouted, kicking to show her how it was done. The old sorry horse found a burst of speed from somewhere. Suddenly they were racing across the wheatfield, throwing up clouds of chaff. Jaime had just enough time to think, The wench had better follow before they realize they're being charged by an unarmed man in chains. Then he heard her coming hard behind. \"Evenfall!\" she shouted as her plow horse thundered by. She brandished her longsword. \"Tarth! Tarth!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A few last arrows sped harmlessly past; then the bowmen broke and ran, the way unsupported bowmen always broke and ran before the charge of knights. Brienne reined up at the wall. By the time Jaime reached her, they had all melted into the wood twenty yards away. \"Lost your taste for battle?\"\n\n\"They were running.\"\n\n\"That's the best time to kill them.\"\n\nShe sheathed her sword. \"Why did you charge?\"\n\n\"Bowmen are fearless so long as they can hide behind walls and shoot at you from afar, but if you come at them, they run. They know what will happen when you reach them. You have an arrow in your back, you know. And another in your leg. You ought to let me tend them.\"\n\n\"You?\"\n\n\"Who else? The last I saw of cousin Cleos, his palfrey was using his head to plow a furrow. Though I suppose we ought to find him. He is a Lannister of sorts.\"\n\nThey found Cleos still tangled in his stirrup. He had an arrow through his right arm and a second in his chest, but it was the ground that had done for him. The top of his head was matted with blood and mushy to the touch, pieces of broken bone moving under the skin beneath the pressure of Jaime's hand.\n\nBrienne knelt and held his hand. \"He's still warm.\"\n\n\"He'll cool soon enough. I want his horse and his clothes. I'm weary of rags and fleas.\"\n\n\"He was your cousin.\" The wench was shocked.\n\n\"Was,\" Jaime agreed. \"Have no fear, I am amply provisioned in cousins. I'll have his sword as well. You need someone to share the watches.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You can stand a watch without weapons.\" She rose.\n\n\"Chained to a tree? Perhaps I could. Or perhaps I could make my own bargain with the next lot of outlaws and let them slit that thick neck of yours, wench.\"\n\n\"I will not arm you. And my name is-\"\n\n\"-Brienne, I know. I'll swear an oath not to harm you, if that will ease your girlish fears.\"\n\n\"Your oaths are worthless. You swore an oath to Aerys.\"\n\n\"You haven't cooked anyone in their armor so far as I know. And we both want me safe and whole in King's Landing, don't we?\" He squatted beside Cleos and began to undo his swordbelt.\n\n\"Step away from him. Now. Stop that.\"\n\nJaime was tired. Tired of her suspicions, tired of her insults, tired of her crooked teeth and her broad spotty face and that limp thin hair of hers. Ignoring her protests, he grasped the hilt of his cousin's longsword with both hands, held the corpse down with his foot, and pulled. As the blade slid from the scabbard, he was already pivoting, bringing the sword around and up in a swift deadly arc. Steel met steel with a ringing, bone-jarring clang. Somehow Brienne had gotten her own blade out in time. Jaime laughed. \"Very good, wench.\"\n\n\"Give me the sword, Kingslayer.\"\n\n\"Oh, I will.\" He sprang to his feet and drove at her, the longsword alive in his hands. Brienne jumped back, parrying, but he followed, pressing the attack. No sooner did she turn one cut than the next was upon her. The swords kissed and sprang apart and kissed again. Jaime's blood was singing. This was what he was meant for; he never felt so alive as when he was fighting, with death balanced on every stroke. And with my wrists chained together, the wench may even give me a contest fora time. His chains forced him to use a two-handed grip, though of course the weight and reach were less than if the blade had been a true two-handed greatsword, but what did it matter? His cousin's sword was long enough to write an end to this Brienne of Tarth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "High, low, overhand, he rained down steel upon her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Left, right, backslash, swinging so hard that sparks flew when the swords came together, upswing, sideslash, overhand, always attacking, moving into her, step and slide, strike and step, step and strike, hacking, slashing, faster, faster, faster...\n\n... until, breathless, he stepped back and let the point of the sword fall to the ground, giving her a moment of respite. \"Not half bad,\" he acknowledged. \"Fora wench.\"\n\nShe took a slow deep breath, her eyes watching him warily. \"I would not hurt you, Kingslayer.\"\n\n\"As if you could.\" He whirled the blade backup above his head and flew at her again, chains rattling.\n\nJaime could not have said how long he pressed the attack. It might have been minutes or it might have been hours; time slept when swords woke. He drove her away from his cousin's corpse, drove her across the road, drove her into the trees. She stumbled once on a root she never saw, and fora moment he thought she was done, but she went to one knee instead of falling, and never lost a beat. Her sword leapt up to block a downcut that would have opened her from shoulder to groin, and then she cut at him, again and again, fighting her way back to her feet stroke by stroke.\n\nThe dance went on. He pinned her against an oak, cursed as she slipped away, followed her through a shallow brook half-choked with fallen leaves. Steel rang, steel sang, steel screamed and sparked and scraped, and the woman started grunting like a sow at every crash, yet somehow he could not reach her. It was as if she had an iron cage around her that stopped every blow.\n\n\"Not bad at all,\" he said when he paused fora second to catch his breath, circling to her right."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fora wench?\"\n\n\"Fora squire, say. A green one.\" He laughed a ragged, breathless laugh. \"Come on, come on, my sweetling, the music's still playing. Might I have this dance, my lady?\"\n\nGrunting, she came at him, blade whirling, and suddenly it was Jaime struggling to keep steel from skin. One of her slashes raked across his brow, and blood ran down into his right eye. The Others take her, and Riverrun as well! His skills had gone to rust and rot in that bloody dungeon, and the chains were no great help either. His eye closed, his shoulders were going numb from the jarring they'd taken, and his wrists ached from the weight of chains, manacles, and sword. His longsword grew heavier with every blow, and Jaime knew he was not swinging it as quickly as he'd done earlier, nor raising it as high.\n\nShe is stronger than I am.\n\nThe realization chilled him. Robert had been stronger than him, to be sure. The White Bull Gerold Hightower as well, in his heyday, and Ser Arthur Dayne. Amongst the living, Greatjon Umber was stronger, Strongboar of Crakehall most likely, both Cleganes fora certainty. The Mountain's strength was like nothing human. It did not matter. With speed and skill, Jaime could beat them all. But this was a woman. A huge cow of a woman, to be sure, but even so... by rights, she should be the one wearing down.\n\nInstead she forced him back into the brook again, shouting, \"Yield! Throw down the sword!\"\n\nA slick stone turned under Jaime's foot. Ashe felt himself falling, he twisted the mischance into a diving lunge. His point scraped past her parry and bit into her upper thigh. A red flower blossomed, and Jaime had an instant to savor the sight of her blood before his knee slammed into a rock. The pain was blinding. Brienne splashed into him and kicked away his sword. \"YIELD!\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborate with the author and advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 23"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fora wench?\"\n\n\"Fora squire, say. A green one.\" He laughed a ragged, breathless laugh. \"Come on, come on, my sweetling, the music's still playing. Might I have this dance, my lady?\"\n\nGrunting, she came at him, blade whirling, and suddenly it was Jaime struggling to keep steel from skin. One of her slashes raked across his brow, and blood ran down into his right eye. The Others take her, and Riverrun as well! His skills had gone to rust and rot in that bloody dungeon, and the chains were no great help either. His eye closed, his shoulders were going numb from the jarring they'd taken, and his wrists ached from the weight of chains, manacles, and sword. His longsword grew heavier with every blow, and Jaime knew he was not swinging it as quickly as he'd done earlier, nor raising it as high.\n\nShe is stronger than I am.\n\nThe realization chilled him. Robert had been stronger than him, to be sure. The White Bull Gerold Hightower as well, in his heyday, and Ser Arthur Dayne. Amongst the living, Greatjon Umber was stronger, Strongboar of Crakehall most likely, both Cleganes fora certainty. The Mountain's strength was like nothing human. It did not matter. With speed and skill, Jaime could beat them all. But this was a woman. A huge cow of a woman, to be sure, but even so... by rights, she should be the one wearing down.\n\nInstead she forced him back into the brook again, shouting, \"Yield! Throw down the sword!\"\n\nA slick stone turned under Jaime's foot. Ashe felt himself falling, he twisted the mischance into a diving lunge. His point scraped past her parry and bit into her upper thigh. A red flower blossomed, and Jaime had an instant to savor the sight of her blood before his knee slammed into a rock. The pain was blinding. Brienne splashed into him and kicked away his sword. \"YIELD!\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jaime drove his shoulder into her legs, bringing her down on top of him. They rolled, kicking and punching until finally she was sitting astride him. He managed to jerk her dagger from its sheath, but before he could plunge it into her belly she caught his wrist and slammed his hands back on a rock so hard he thought she'd wrenched an arm from its socket. Her other hand spread across his face. \"Yield!\" She shoved his head down, held it under, pulled it up. \"Yield!\" Jaime spit water into her face. A shove, a splash, and he was under again, kicking uselessly, fighting to breathe. Up again. \"Yield, or I'll drown you!\"\n\n\"And break your oath?\" he snarled. \"Like me?\"\n\nShe let him go, and he went down with a splash.\n\nAnd the woods rang with coarse laughter.\n\nBrienne lurched to her feet. She was all mud and blood below the waist, her clothing askew, her face red. She looks as if they caught us fucking instead of fighting. Jaime crawled over the rocks to shallow water, wiping the blood from his eye with his chained hands. Armed men lined both sides of the brook. Small wonder, we were making enough noise to wake a dragon. \"Well met, friends,\" he called to them amiably. \"My pardons if I disturbed you. You caught me chastising my wife.\"\n\n\"Seemed tome she was doing the chastising.\" The man who spoke was thick and powerful, and the nasal bar of his iron halfhelm did not wholly conceal his lack of a nose.\n\nThese were not the outlaws who had killed Ser Cleos, Jaime realized suddenly. The scum of the earth surrounded them: swarthy Dornishmen and blond Lyseni, Dothraki with bells in their braids, hairy Ibbenese, coal-black Summer Islanders in feathered cloaks. He knew them. The Brave Companions."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Brienne found her voice."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have a hundred stags-\"\n\nA cadaverous man in a tattered leather cloak said, \"We'll take that fora start, m'lady.\"\n\n\"Then we'll have your cunt,\" said the noseless man. \"It can't be as ugly as the rest of you.\"\n\n\"Turn her over and rape her arse, Rorge,\" urged a Dornish spearman with a red silk scarf wound about his helm. \"That way you won't need to look at her.\"\n\n\"And rob her o'the pleasure o\" looking at me?\" Noseless said, and the others laughed.\n\nUgly and stubborn though she might be, the wench deserved better than to be gang raped by such refuse as these. \"Who commands here?\" Jaime demanded loudly.\n\n\"I have that honor, Ser Jaime.\" The cadaver's eyes were rimmed in red, his hair thin and dry. Dark blue veins could be seen through the pallid skin of his hands and face. \"Urswyck I am. Called Urswyck the Faithful.\"\n\n\"You know who I am?\"\n\nThe sellsword inclined his head. \"It takes more than a beard and a shaved head to deceive the Brave Companions.\"\n\nThe Bloody Mummers, you mean. Jaime had no more use for these than he did for Gregor Clegane or Amory Lorch. Dogs, his father called them all, and he used them like dogs, to hound his prey and put fear in their hearts. \"If you know me, Urswyck, you know you'll have your reward. A Lannister always pays his debts. As for the wench, she's highborn, and worth a good ransom.\"\n\nThe other cocked his head. \"Is it so? How fortunate.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was something sly about the way Urswyck was smiling that Jaime did not like. \"You heard me. Where's the goat?\"\n\n\"A few hours distant. He will be pleased to see you, I have no doubt, but I would not call him a goat to his face. Lord Vargo grows prickly about his dignity.\"\n\nSince when has that slobbering savage had dignity? \"I'll be sure and remember that, when I see him. Lord of what, pray?\"\n\n\"Harrenhal. It has been promised.\"\n\nHarrenhal? Has my father taken leave of his senses? Jaime raised his hands. \"I'll have these chains off.\"\n\nUrswyck's chuckle was papery dry.\n\nSomething is very wrong here. Jaime gave no sign of his discomfiture, but only smiled. \"Did I say something amusing?\"\n\nNoseless grinned. \"You're the funniest thing I seen since Biter chewed that septa's teats off.\"\n\n\"You and your father lost too many battles,\" offered the Dornishman. \"We had to trade our lion pelts for wolfskins.\"\n\nUrswyck spread his hands. \"What Timeon means to say is that the Brave Companions are no longer in the hire of House Lannister. We now serve Lord Bolton, and the King in the North.\"\n\nJaime gave him a cold, contemptuous smile. \"And men say I have shit for honor?\"\n\nUrswyck was unhappy with that comment. At his signal, two of the Mummers grasped Jaime by the arms and Rorge drove a mailed fist into his stomach. Ashe doubled over grunting, he heard the wench protesting, \"Stop, he's not to be harmed! Lady Catelyn sent us, an exchange of captives, he's under my protection...\" Rorge hit him again, driving the air from his lungs. Brienne dove for her sword beneath the waters of the brook, but the Mummers were on her before she could lay hands on it. Strong as she was, it took four of them to beat her into submission."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "By the end the wench's face was as swollen and bloody as Jaime's must have been, and they had knocked out two of her teeth. It did nothing to improve her appearance. Stumbling and bleeding, the two captives were dragged back through the woods to the horses, Brienne limping from the thigh wound he'd given her in the brook. Jaime felt sorry for her. She would lose her maidenhood tonight, he had no doubt. That noseless bastard would have her fora certainty, and some of the others would likely take a turn.\n\nThe Dornishman bound them back to back atop Brienne's plow horse while the other Mummers were stripping Cleos Frey to his skin to divvy up his possessions. Rorge won the bloodstained surcoat with its proud Lannister and Frey quarterings. The arrows had punched holes through lions and towers alike.\n\n\"I hope you're pleased, wench,\" Jaime whispered at Brienne. He coughed, and spat out a mouthful of blood. \"If you'd armed me, we'd never have been taken.\" She made no answer. There's a pig-stubborn bitch, he thought. But brave, yes. He could not take that from her. \"When we make camp for the night, you'll be raped, and more than once,\" he warned her. \"You'd be wise not to resist. If you fight them, you'll lose more than a few teeth.\"\n\nHe felt Brienne's back stiffen against his. \"Is that what you would do, if you were a woman?\"\n\nIf I were a woman I'd be Cersei. \"If I were a woman, I'd make them kill me. But I'm not.\" Jaime kicked their horse to a trot. \"Urswyck! A word!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The cadaverous sellsword in the ragged leather cloak reined up a moment, then fell in beside him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What would you have of me, ser? And mind your tongue, or I'll chastise you again.\"\n\n\"Gold,\" said Jaime. \"You do like gold?\"\n\nUrswyck studied him through reddened eyes. \"It has its uses, I do confess.\"\n\nJaime gave Urswyck a knowing smile. \"All the gold in Casterly Rock. Why let the goat enjoy it? Why not take us to King's Landing, and collect my ransom for yourself? Hers as well, if you like. Tarth is called the Sapphire Isle, a maiden told me once.\" The wench squirmed at that, but said nothing.\n\n\"Do you take me fora turncloak?\"\n\n\"Certainly. What else?\"\n\nFor half a heartbeat Urswyck considered the proposition. \"King's Landing is along way, and your father is there. Lord Tywin may resent us for selling Harrenhal to Lord Bolton.\"\n\nHe's cleverer than he looks. Jaime had been been looking forward to hanging the wretch while his pockets bulged with gold. \"Leave me to deal with my father. I'll get you a royal pardon for any crimes you have committed. I'll get you a knighthood.\"\n\n\"Ser Urswyck,\" the man said, savoring the sound. \"How proud my dear wife would be to hear it. If only I hadn't killed her.\" He sighed. \"And what of brave Lord Vargo?\"\n\n\"Shall I sing you averse of \"The Rains of Castamere\"? The goat won't be quite so brave when my father gets hold of him.\"\n\n\"And how will he do that? Are your father's arms so long that they can reach over the walls of Harrenhal and pluck us out?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If need be.\" King Harren's monstrous folly had fallen before, and it could fall again. \"Are you such a fool as to think the goat can outfight the lion?\"\n\nUrswyck leaned over and slapped him lazily across the face. The sheer casual insolence of it was worse than the blow itself. He does not fear me, Jaime realized, with a chill. \"I have heard enough, Kingslayer. I would have to be a great fool indeed to believe the promises of an oathbreaker like you.\" He kicked his horse and galloped smartly ahead.\n\nAerys, Jaime thought resentfully. It always turns on Aerys. He swayed with the motion of his horse, wishing fora sword. Two swords would be even better. One for the wench and one for me. We'd die, but we'd take half of them down to hell with us. \"Why did you tell him Tarth was the Sapphire Isle?\" Brienne whispered when Urswyck was out of earshot. \"He's like to think my father's rich in gemstones...\"\n\n\"You best pray he does.\"\n\n\"Is every word you say a lie, Kingslayer? Tarth is called the Sapphire Isle for the blue of its waters.\"\n\n\"Shout it a little louder, wench, I don't think Urswyck heard you. The sooner they know how little you're worth in ransom, the sooner the rapes begin. Every man here will mount you, but what do you care? Just close your eyes, open your legs, and pretend they're all Lord Renly.\"\n\nMercifully, that shut her mouth fora time.\n\nThe day was almost done by the time they found Vargo Hoat, sacking a small sept with another dozen of his Brave Companions. The leaded windows had been smashed, the carved wooden gods dragged out into the sunlight. The fattest Dothraki Jaime had ever seen was sitting on the Mother's chest when they rode up, prying out her chalcedony eyes with the point of his knife. Nearby, a skinny balding septon hung upside down from the limb of a spreading chestnut tree. Three of the Brave Companions were using his corpse for an archery butt. One of them must have been good; the dead man had arrows through both of his eyes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When the sellswords spied Urswyck and the captives, a cry went up in half a dozen tongues."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The goat was seated by a cookfire eating a half-cooked bird off a skewer, grease and blood running down his fingers into his long stringy beard. He wiped his hands on his tunic and rose. \"Kingthlayer,\" he slobbered. \"You are my captifth.\"\n\n\"My lord, I am Brienne of Tarth,\" the wench called out. \"Lady Catelyn Stark commanded me to deliver Ser Jaime to his brother at King's Landing.\"\n\nThe goat gave her a disinterested glance. \"Thilence her.\"\n\n\"Hear me,\" Brienne entreated as Rorge cut the ropes that bound her to Jaime, \"in the name of the King in the North, the king you serve, please, listen-\"\n\nRorge dragged her off the horse and began to kick her. \"See that you don't break any bones,\" Urswyck called out to him. \"The horse-faced bitch is worth her weight in sapphires.\"\n\nThe Dornishman Timeon and afoul-smelling Ibbenese pulled Jaime down from the saddle and shoved him roughly toward the cookfire. It would not have been hard for him to have grasped one of their sword hilts as they manhandled him, but there were too many, and he was still in fetters. He might cut down one or two, but in the end he would die for it. Jaime was not ready to die just yet, and certainly not for the likes of Brienne of Tarth.\n\n\"Thith ith a thweet day,\" Vargo Hoat said. Around his neck hung a chain of linked coins, coins of every shape and size, cast and hammered, bearing the likenesses of kings, wizards, gods and demons, and all manner of fanciful beasts."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Coins from every land where he has fought, Jaime remembered. Greed was the key to this man. If he was turned once, he can be turned again. \"Lord Vargo, you were foolish to leave my father's service, but it is not too late to make amends. He will pay well for me, you know it.\"\n\n\"Oh yeth,\" said Vargo Hoat. \"Half the gold in Cathterly Rock, I thall have. But firth I mutht thend him a methage.\" He said something in his slithery goatish tongue.\n\nUrswyck shoved him in the back, and a jester in green and pink motley kicked his legs out from under him. When he hit the ground one of the archers grabbed the chain between Jaime's wrists and used it to yank his arms out in front of him. The fat Dothraki put aside his knife to unsheathe a huge curved arakh, the wickedly sharp scythe-sword the horselords loved.\n\nThey mean to scare me. The fool hopped on Jaime's back, giggling, as the Dothraki swaggered toward him. The goat wants me to piss my breeches and beg his mercy, but he'll never have that pleasure. He was a Lannister of Casterly Rock, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; no sellsword would make him scream.\n\nSunlight ran silver along the edge of the arakh as it came shivering down, almost too fast to see. And Jaime screamed."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "ARYA\n\nThe small square keep was half a ruin, and so too the great grey knight who lived there. He was so old he did not understand their questions. No matter what was said to him, he would only smile and mutter, \"I held the bridge against Ser Maynard. Red hair and a black temper, he had, but he could not move me. Six wounds I took before I killed him. Six!\"\n\nThe maester who cared for him was a young man, thankfully. After the old knight had drifted to sleep in his chair, he took them aside and said, \"I fear you seek a ghost. We had a bird, ages ago, half a year at least. The Lannisters caught Lord Beric near the Gods Eye. He was hanged.\"\n\n\"Aye, hanged he was, but Thoros cut him down before he died.\" Lem's broken nose was not so red or swollen as it had been, but it was healing crooked, giving his face a lopsided look. \"His lordship's a hard man to kill, he is.\"\n\n\"And a hard man to find, it would seem,\" the maester said. \"Have you asked the Lady of the Leaves?\"\n\n\"We shall,\" said Greenbeard.\n\nThe next morning, as they crossed the little stone bridge behind the keep, Gendry wondered if this was the bridge the old man had fought over. No one knew. \"Most like it is,\" said Jack-Be-Lucky. \"Don't see no other bridges.\"\n\n\"You'd know for certain if there was a song,\" said Tom Sevenstrings. \"One good song, and we'd know who Ser Maynard used to be and why he wanted to cross this bridge so bad. Poor old Lychester might be as far famed as the Dragonknight if he'd only had sense enough to keep a singer.\""
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lord Lychester's sons died in Robert's Rebellion,\" grumbled Lem. \"Some on one side, some on t'other. He's not been right in the head since. No bloody song's like to help any o\" that.\"\n\n\"What did the maester mean, about asking the Lady of the Leaves?\" Arya asked Anguy as they rode.\n\nThe archer smiled. \"Wait and see.\"\n\nThree days later, as they rode through a yellow wood, Jack-Be-Lucky unslung his horn and blew a signal, a different one than before. The sounds had scarcely died away when rope ladders unrolled from the limbs of trees. \"Hobble the horses and up we go,\" said Tom, half singing the words. They climbed to a hidden village in the upper branches, amaze of rope walkways and little moss-covered houses concealed behind walls of red and gold, and were taken to the Lady of the Leaves, a stick-thin white-haired woman dressed in roughspun. \"We cannot stay here much longer, with autumn onus,\" she told them. \"A dozen wolves went down the Hayford road nine days past, hunting. If they'd chanced to lookup they might have seen us.\"\n\n\"You've not seen Lord Beric?\" asked Tom Sevenstrings.\n\n\"He's dead.\" The woman sounded sick. \"The Mountain caught him, and drove a dagger through his eye. A begging brother told us. He had it from the lips of a man who saw it happen.\"\n\n\"That's an old stale tale, and false,\" said Lem. \"The lightning lord's not so easy to kill. Ser Gregor might have put his eye out, but a man don't die o\" that. Jack could tell you.\"\n\n\"Well, I never did,\" said one-eyed Jack-Be-Lucky. \"My father got himself good and hanged by Lord Piper's bailiff, my brother Wat got sent to the Wall, and the Lannisters killed my other brothers. An eye, that's nothing.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You swear he's not dead?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The woman clutched Lem's arm. \"Bless you, Lem, that's the best tidings we've had in half a year. May the Warrior defend him, and the red priest too.\"\n\nThe next night they found shelter beneath the scorched shell of a sept, in a burned village called Sallydance. Only shards remained of its windows of leaded glass, and the aged septon who greeted them said the looters had even made off with the Mother's costly robes, the Crone's gilded lantern, and the silver crown the Father had worn. \"They hacked the Maiden's breasts off too, though those were only wood,\" he told them. \"And the eyes, the eyes were jet and lapis and mother-of-pearl, they pried them outwith their knives. May the Mother have mercy on them all.\"\n\n\"Whose work was this?\" said Lem Lemoncloak. \"Mummers?\"\n\n\"No,\" the old man said. \"Northmen, they were. Savages who worship trees. They wanted the Kingslayer, they said.\"\n\nArya heard him, and chewed her lip. She could feel Gendry looking at her. It made her angry and ashamed.\n\nThere were a dozen men living in the vault beneath the sept, amongst cobwebs and roots and broken wine casks, but they had no word of Beric Dondarrion either. Not even their leader, who wore soot-blackened armor and a crude lightning bolt on his cloak. When Greenbeard saw Arya staring at him, he laughed and said, \"The lightning lord is everywhere and nowhere, skinny squirrel.\"\n\n\"I'm not a squirrel,\" she said. \"I'll almost be a woman soon. I'll be one-and-ten.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Best watch out I don't marry you, then!\" He tried to tickle her under the chin, but Arya slapped his stupid hand away.\n\nLem and Gendry played tiles with their hosts that night, while Tom Sevenstrings sang a silly song about Big Belly Ben and the High Septon's goose. Anguy let Arya try his longbow, but no matter how hard she bit her lip she could not draw it. \"You need a lighter bow, milady,\" the freckled bowman said. \"If there's seasoned wood at Riverrun, might be I'll make you one.\"\n\nTom overheard him, and broke off his song. \"You're a young fool, Archer. If we go to Riverrun it will only be to collect her ransom, won't be no time for you to sit about making bows. Be thankful if you get outwith your hide. Lord Hoster was hanging outlaws before you were shaving. And that son of his... a man who hates music can't be trusted, I always say.\"\n\n\"It's not music he hates,\" said Lem. \"It's you, fool.\"\n\n\"Well, he has no cause. The wench was willing to make a man of him, is it my fault he drank too much to do the deed?\"\n\nLem snorted through his broken nose. \"Was it you who made a song of it, or some other bloody arse in love with his own voice?\"\n\n\"I only sang it the once,\" Tom complained. \"And who's to say the song was about him?\"Twas a song about a fish.\"\n\n\"A floppy fish,\" said Anguy, laughing.\n\nArya didn't care what Tom's stupid songs were about. She turned to Harwin. \"What did he mean about ransom?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We have sore need of horses, milady."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Armor as well. Swords, shields, spears. All the things coin can buy. Aye, and seed for planting. Winter is coming, remember?\" He touched her under the chin. \"You will not be the first highborn captive we've ransomed. Nor the last, I'd hope.\"\n\nThat much was true, Arya knew. Knights were captured and ransomed all the time, and sometimes women were too. But what if Robb won't pay their price? She wasn't a famous knight, and kings were supposed to put the realm before their sisters. And her lady mother, what would she say? Would she still want her back, after all the things she'd done? Arya chewed her lip and wondered.\n\nThe next day they rode to a place called High Heart, a hill so lofty that from atop it Arya felt as though she could see half the world. Around its brow stood a ring of huge pale stumps, all that remained of a circle of once-mighty weirwoods. Arya and Gendry walked around the hill to count them. There were thirty-one, some so wide that she could have used them fora bed.\n\nHigh Heart had been sacred to the children of the forest, Tom Sevenstrings told her, and some of their magic lingered here still. \"No harm can ever come to those as sleep here,\" the singer said. Arya thought that must be true; the hill was so high and the surrounding lands so flat that no enemy could approach unseen.\n\nThe smallfolk hereabouts shunned the place, Tom told her; it was said to be haunted by the ghosts of the children of the forest who had died here when the Andal king named Erreg the Kinslayer had cut down their grove. Arya knew about the children of the forest, and about the Andals too, but ghosts did not frighten her. She used to hide in the crypts of Winterfell when she was little, and play games of come-into-my-castle and monsters and maidens amongst the stone kings on their thrones."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet even so, the hair on the back of her neck stood up that night. She had been asleep, but the storm woke her. The wind pulled the coverlet right off her and sent it swirling into the bushes. When she went after it she heard voices.\n\nBeside the embers of their campfire, she saw Tom, Lem, and Greenbeard talking to a tiny little woman, afoot shorter than Arya and older than Old Nan, all stooped and wrinkled and leaning on a gnarled black cane. Her white hair was so long it came almost to the ground. When the wind gusted it blew about her head in a fine cloud. Her flesh was whiter, the color of milk, and it seemed to Arya that her eyes were red, though it was hard to tell from the bushes. \"The old gods stir and will not let me sleep,\" she heard the woman say. \"I dreamt I saw a shadow with a burning heart butchering a golden stag, aye. I dreamt of a man without a face, waiting on abridge that swayed and swung. On his shoulder perched a drowned crow with seaweed hanging from his wings. I dreamt of a roaring river and a woman that was a fish. Dead she drifted, with red tears on her cheeks, but when her eyes did open, oh, I woke from terror. All this I dreamt, and more. Do you have gifts for me, to pay me for my dreams?\"\n\n\"Dreams,\" grumbled Lem Lemoncloak, \"what good are dreams? Fish women and drowned crows. I had a dream myself last night. I was kissing this tavern wench I used to know. Are you going to pay me for that, old woman?\"\n\n\"The wench is dead,\" the woman hissed. \"Only worms may kiss her now.\" And then to Tom Sevenstrings she said, \"I'll have my song or I'll have you gone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So the singer played for her, so soft and sad that Arya only heard snatches of the words, though the tune was half-familiar. Sansa would know it, I bet. Her sister had known all the songs, and she could even play a little, and sing so sweetly. All I could ever do was shout the words.\n\nThe next morning the little white woman was nowhere to be seen. As they saddled their horses, Arya asked Tom Sevenstrings if the children of the forest still dwelled on High Heart. The singer chuckled. \"Saw her, did you?\"\n\n\"Was she a ghost?\"\n\n\"Do ghosts complain of how their joints creak? No, she's only an old dwarf woman. A queer one, though, and evil-eyed. But she knows things she has no business knowing, and sometimes she'll tell you if she likes the look of you.\"\n\n\"Did she like the looks of you?\" Arya asked doubtfully.\n\nThe singer laughed. \"The sound of me, at least. She always makes me sing the same bloody song, though. Not a bad song, mind you, but I know others just as good.\" He shook his head. \"What matters is, we have the scent now. You'll soon be seeing Thoros and the lightning lord, I'll wager.\"\n\n\"If you're their men, why do they hide from you?\"\n\nTom Sevenstrings rolled his eyes at that, but Harwin gave her an answer. \"I wouldn't call it hiding, milady, but it's true, Lord Beric moves about a lot, and seldom lets on what his plans are. That way no one can betray him. By now there must be hundreds of us sworn to him, maybe thousands, but it wouldn't do for us all to trail along behind him. We'd eat the country bare, or get butchered in a battle by some bigger host. The way we're scattered in little bands, we can strike in a dozen places at once, and be off somewhere else before they know. And when one of us is caught and put to the question, well, we can't tell them whereto find Lord Beric no matter what they do to us.\" He hesitated. \"You know what it means, to be put to the question?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya nodded. \"Tickling, they called it. Polliver and Raff and all.\" She told them about the village by the Gods Eye where she and Gendry had been caught, and the questions that the Tickler had asked. \"Is there gold hidden in the village?\" he would always begin. \"Silver, gems? Is there food? Where is Lord Beric? Which of you village folk helped him? Where did he go? How many men did he have with him? How many knights? How many bowmen? How many were horsed? How are they armed? How many wounded? Where did they go, did you say?\" Just thinking of it, she could hear the shrieks again, and smell the stench of blood and shit and burning flesh. \"He always asked the same questions,\" she told the outlaws solemnly, \"but he changed the tickling everyday.\"\n\n\"No child should be made to suffer that,\" Harwin said when she was done. \"The Mountain lost half his men at the Stone Mill, we hear. Might be this Tickler's floating down the Red Fork even now, with fish biting at his face. If not, well, it's one more crime they'll answer for. I've heard his lordship say this war began when the Hand sent him out to bring the king's justice to Gregor Clegane, and that's how he means for it to end.\" He gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. \"You best mount up, milady. It's along day's ride to Acorn Hall, but at the end of it we'll have a roof above our heads and a hot supper in our bellies.\"\n\nIt was along day's ride, but as dusk was settling they forded a brook and came upon Acorn Hall, with its stone curtain walls and great oaken keep. Its master was away fighting in the retinue of his master, Lord Vance, the castle gates closed and barred in his absence. But his lady wife was an old friend of Tom Sevenstrings, and Anguy said they'd once been lovers. Anguy often rode beside her; he was closer to her in age than any of them but Gendry, and he told her droll tales of the Dornish Marches. He never fooled her, though. He's not my friend. He's only staying close to watch me and make sure I don't ride off again. Well, Arya could watch as well. Syrio Forel had taught her how."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lady Smallwood welcomed the outlaws kindly enough, though she gave them a tongue lashing for dragging a young girl through the war. She became even more wroth when Lem let slip that Arya was highborn. \"Who dressed the poor child in those Bolton rags?\" she demanded of them. \"That badge... there's many a man who would hang her in half a heartbeat for wearing a flayed man on her breast.\" Arya promptly found herself marched upstairs, forced into a tub, and doused with scalding hot water. Lady Smallwood's maidservants scrubbed her so hard it felt like they were flaying her themselves. They even dumped in some stinky-sweet stuff that smelled like flowers.\n\nAnd afterward, they insisted she dress herself in girl's things, brown woolen stockings and alight linen shift, and over that alight green gown with acorns embroidered allover the bodice in brown thread, and more acorns bordering the hem. \"My great-aunt is a septa at a motherhouse in Oldtown,\" Lady Smallwood said as the women laced the gown up Arya's back. \"I sent my daughter there when the war began. She'll have outgrown these things by the time she returns, no doubt. Are you fond of dancing, child? My Carellen's a lovely dancer. She sings beautifully as well. What do you like to do?\"\n\nShe scuffed a toe amongst the rushes. \"Needlework.\"\n\n\"Very restful, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Arya, \"not the way I do it.\"\n\n\"No? I have always found it so. The gods give each of us our little gifts and talents, and it is meant for us to use them, my aunt always says. Any act can be a prayer, if done as well as we are able. Isn't that a lovely thought? Remember that the next time you do your needlework. Do you work at it everyday?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I did till I lost Needle."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "My new one's not as good.\"\n\n\"In times like these, we all must make do as best we can.\" Lady Smallwood fussed at the bodice of the gown. \"Now you look a proper young lady.\"\n\nI'm not a lady, Arya wanted to tell her, I'm a wolf.\n\n\"I do not know who you are, child,\" the woman said, \"and it maybe that's for the best. Someone important, I fear.\" She smoothed down Arya's collar. \"In times like these, it is better to be insignificant. Would that I could keep you herewith me. That would not be safe, though. I have walls, but too few men to hold them.\" She sighed.\n\nSupper was being served in the hall by the time Arya was all washed and combed and dressed. Gendry took one look and laughed so hard that wine came out his nose, until Harwin gave him a thwack alongside his ear. The meal was plain but filling; mutton and mushrooms, brown bread, pease pudding, and baked apples with yellow cheese. When the food had been cleared and the servants sent away, Greenbeard lowered his voice to ask if her ladyship had word of the lightning lord.\n\n\"Word?\" She smiled. \"They were here not a fortnight past. Them and a dozen more, driving sheep. I could scarcely believe my eyes. Thoros gave me three as thanks. You've eaten one tonight.\"\n\n\"Thoros herding sheep?\" Anguy laughed aloud.\n\n\"I grant you it was an odd sight, but Thoros claimed that as a priest he knew how to tend a flock.\"\n\n\"Aye, and shear them too,\" chuckled Lem Lemoncloak."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Someone could make a rare fine song of that.\" Tom plucked a string on his woodharp.\n\nLady Smallwood gave him a withering look. \"Someone who doesn't rhyme carry on with Dondarrion, perhaps. Or play'Oh, Lay My Sweet Lass Down in the Grass' to every milkmaid in the shire and leave two of them with big bellies.\"\n\n\"It was \"Let Me Drink Your Beauty,\"\" said Tom defensively, \"and milkmaids are always glad to hear it. As was a certain highborn lady I do recall. I play to please.\"\n\nHer nostrils flared. \"The riverlands are full of maids you've pleased, all drinking tansy tea. You'd think a man as old as you would know to spill his seed on their bellies. Men will be calling you Tom Sevensons before much longer.\"\n\n\"As it happens,\" said Tom, \"I passed seven many years ago. And fine boys they are too, with voices sweet as nightingales.\" Plainly he did not care for the subject.\n\n\"Did his lordship say where he was bound, milady?\" asked Harwin.\n\n\"Lord Beric never shares his plans, but there's hunger down near Stoney Sept and the Threepenny Wood. I should look for him there.\" She took a sip of wine. \"You'd best know, I've had less pleasant callers as well. A pack of wolves came howling around my gates, thinking I might have Jaime Lannister inhere.\"\n\nTom stopped his plucking. \"Then it's true, the Kingslayer is loose again?\"\n\nLady Smallwood gave him a scornful look. \"I hardly think they'd be hunting him if he was chained up under Riverrun.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What did m'lady tell them?\" asked Jack-Be-Lucky.\n\n\"Why, that I had Ser Jaime naked in my bed, but I'd left him much too exhausted to comedown. One of them had the effrontery to call me a liar, so we saw them off with a few quarrels. I believe they made for Blackbottom Bend.\"\n\nArya squirmed restlessly in her seat. \"What northmen was it, who came looking after the Kingslayer?\"\n\nLady Smallwood seemed surprised that she'd spoken. \"They did not give their names, child, but they wore black, with the badge of a white sun on the breast.\"\n\nA white sun on black was the sigil of Lord Karstark, Arya thought. Those were Robb's men. She wondered if they were still close. If she could give the outlaws the slip and find them, maybe they would take her to her mother at Riverrun...\n\n\"Did they say how Lannister came to escape?\" Lem asked.\n\n\"They did,\" said Lady Smallwood. \"Not that I believe a word of it. They claimed that Lady Catelyn set him free.\"\n\nThat startled Tom so badly he snapped a string. \"Goon with you,\" he said. \"That's madness.\"\n\nIt's not true, thought Arya. It couldn't be true.\n\n\"I thought the same,\" said Lady Smallwood.\n\nThat was when Harwin remembered Arya. \"Such talk is not for your ears, milady.\"\n\n\"No, I want to hear.\"\n\nThe outlaws were adamant. \"Goon with you, skinny squirrel,\" said Greenbeard. \"Be a good little lady and go play in the yard while we talk, now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya stalked away angry, and would have slammed the door if it hadn't been so heavy. Darkness had settled over Acorn Hall. A few torches burned along the walls, but that was all. The gates of the little castle were closed and barred. She had promised Harwin that she would not try and runaway again, she knew, but that was before they started telling lies about her mother.\n\n\"Arya?\" Gendry had followed her out. \"Lady Smallwood said there's a smithy. Want to have a look?\"\n\n\"If you want.\" She had nothing else to do.\n\n\"This Thoros,\" Gendry said as they walked past the kennels, \"is he the same Thoros who lived in the castle at King's Landing? A red priest, fat, with a shaved head?\"\n\n\"I think so.\" Arya had never spoken to Thoros at King's Landing that she could recall, but she knew who he was. He and Jalabhar Xho had been the most colorful figures at Robert's court, and Thoros was a great friend of the king as well.\n\n\"He won't remember me, but he used to come to our forge.\" The Smallwood forge had not been used in sometime, though the smith had hung his tools neatly on the wall. Gendry lit a candle and set it on the anvil while he took down a pair of tongs. \"My master always scolded him about his flaming swords. It was noway to treat good steel, he'd say, but this Thoros never used good steel. He'd just dip some cheap sword in wildfire and set it alight. It was only an alchemist's trick, my master said, but it scared the horses and some of the greener knights.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She screwed up her face, trying to remember if her father had ever talked about Thoros. \"He isn't very priestly, is he?\"\n\n\"No,\" Gendry admitted. \"Master Mott said Thoros could outdrink even King Robert. They were pease in a pod, he told me, both gluttons and sots.\"\n\n\"You shouldn't call the king a sot.\" Maybe King Robert had drunk a lot, but he'd been her father's friend.\n\n\"I was talking about Thoros.\" Gendry reached outwith the tongs as if to pinch her face, but Arya swatted them away. \"He liked feasts and tourneys, that was why King Robert was so fond of him. And this Thoros was brave. When the walls of Pyke crashed down, he was the first through the breach. He fought with one of his flaming swords, setting ironmen afire with every slash.\"\n\n\"I wish I had a flaming sword.\" Arya could think of lots of people she'd like to set on fire.\n\n\"It's only a trick, I told you. The wildfire ruins the steel. My master sold Thoros anew sword after every tourney. Every time they would have a fight about the price.\" Gendry hung the tongs backup and took down the heavy hammer. \"Master Mott said it was time I made my first longsword. He gave me a sweet piece of steel, and I knew just how I wanted to shape the blade. Only Yoren came, and took me away for the Night's Watch.\"\n\n\"You can still make swords if you want,\" said Arya. \"You can make them for my brother Robb when we get to Riverrun.\"\n\n\"Riverrun.\" Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her. \"You look different now. Like a proper little girl.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.\"\n\n\"Nice, though. A nice oak tree.\" He stepped closer, and sniffed at her. \"You even smell nice fora change.\"\n\n\"You don't. You stink.\" Arya shoved him back against the anvil and made to run, but Gendry caught her arm. She stuck afoot between his legs and tripped him, but he yanked her down with him, and they rolled across the floor of the smithy. He was very strong, but she was quicker. Every time he tried to hold her still she wriggled free and punched him. Gendry only laughed at the blows, which made her mad. He finally caught both her wrists in one hand and started to tickle her with the other, so Arya slammed her knee between his legs, and wrenched free. Both of them were covered in dirt, and one sleeve was torn on her stupid acorn dress. \"I bet I don't look so nice now,\" she shouted.\n\nTom was singing when they returned to the hall.\n\nMy featherbed is deep and soft,\n\nand there I'll lay you down,\n\nI'll dress you all in yellow silk,\n\nand on your head a crown.\n\nFor you shall be my ladylove,\n\nand I shall be your lord.\n\nI'll always keep you warm and safe,\n\nand guard you with my sword.\n\nHarwin took one look at them and burst out laughing, and Anguy smiled one of his stupid freckly smiles and said, \"Are we certain this one is a highborn lady?\" But Lem Lemoncloak gave Gendry a clout alongside the head. \"You want to fight, fight with me! She's a girl, and half your age! You keep your hands off o\" her, you hear me?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I started it,\" said Arya. \"Gendry was just talking.\"\n\n\"Leave the boy, Lem,\" said Harwin. \"Arya did start it, I have no doubt. She was much the same at Winterfell.\"\n\nTom winked at her as he sang:\n\nAnd how she smiled and how she laughed,\n\nthe maiden of the tree.\n\nShe spun away and said to him,\n\nno featherbed for me.\n\nI'll wear a gown of golden leaves,\n\nand bind my hair with grass,\n\nBut you can be my forest love,\n\nand me your forest lass.\n\n\"I have no gowns of leaves,\" said Lady Smallwood with a small fond smile, \"but Carellen left some other dresses that might serve. Come, child, let us go upstairs and see what we can find.\"\n\nIt was even worse than before; Lady Smallwood insisted that Arya take another bath, and cut and comb her hair besides; the dress she put her in this time was sort of lilac-colored, and decorated with little baby pearls. The only good thing about it was that it was so delicate that no one could expect her to ride in it. So the next morning as they broke their fast, Lady Smallwood gave her breeches, belt, and tunic to wear, and a brown doeskin jerkin dotted with iron studs. \"They were my son's things,\" she said. \"He died when he was seven.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, my lady.\" Arya suddenly felt bad for her, and ashamed. \"I'm sorry I tore the acorn dress too. It was pretty.\"\n\n\"Yes, child. And so are you. Be brave.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "DAENERYS\n\nIn the center of the Plaza of Pride stood a redbrick fountain whose waters smelled of brimstone, and in the center of the fountain a monstrous harpy made of hammered bronze. Twenty feet tall she reared. She had a woman's face, with gilded hair, ivory eyes, and pointed ivory teeth. Water gushed yellow from her heavy breasts. But in place of arms she had the wings of a bat or a dragon, her legs were the legs of an eagle, and behind she wore a scorpion's curled and venomous tail.\n\nThe harpy of Ghis, Dany thought. Old Ghis had fallen five thousand years ago, if she remembered true; its legions shattered by the might of young Valyria, its brick walls pulled down, its streets and buildings turned to ash and cinder by dragonflame, its very fields sown with salt, sulfur, and skulls. The gods of Ghis were dead, and so too its people; these Astapori were mongrels, Ser Jorah said. Even the Ghiscari tongue was largely forgotten; the slave cities spoke the High Valyrian of their conquerors, or what they had made of it.\n\nYet the symbol of the Old Empire still endured here, though this bronze monster had a heavy chain dangling from her talons, an open manacle at either end. The harpy of Ghis had a thunderbolt in her claws. This is the harpy of Astapor.\n\n\"Tell the Westerosi whore to lower her eyes,\" the slaver Kraznys mo Nakloz complained to the slave girl who spoke for him. \"Ideal in meat, not metal. The bronze is not for sale. Tell her to look at the soldiers. Even the dim purple eyes of a sunset savage can see how magnificent my creatures are, surely.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kraznys's High Valyrian was twisted and thickened by the characteristic growl of Ghis, and flavored here and therewith words of slaver argot. Dany understood him well enough, but she smiled and looked blankly at the slave girl, as if wondering what he might have said.\n\n\"The Good Master Kraznys asks, are they not magnificent?\" The girl spoke the Common Tongue well, for one who had never been to Westeros. No older than ten, she had the round flat face, dusky skin, and golden eyes of Naath. The Peaceful People, her folk were called. All agreed that they made the best slaves.\n\n\"They might be adequate to my needs,\" Dany answered. It had been Ser Jorah's suggestion that she speak only Dothraki and the Common Tongue while in Astapor. My bear is more clever than he looks. \"Tell me of their training.\"\n\n\"The Westerosi woman is pleased with them, but speaks no praise, to keep the price down,\" the translator told her master. \"She wishes to know how they were trained.\"\n\nKraznys mo Nakloz bobbed his head. He smelled as if he'd bathed in raspberries, this slaver, and his jutting red-black beard glistened with oil. He has larger breasts than I do, Dany reflected. She could see them through the thin sea-green silk of the gold-fringed tokar he wound about his body and over one shoulder. His left handheld the tokar in place as he walked, while his right clasped a short leather whip. \"Are all Westerosi pigs so ignorant?\" he complained. \"All the world knows that the Unsullied are masters of spear and shield and shortsword.\" He gave Dany abroad smile. \"Tell her what she would know, slave, and be quick about it. The day is hot.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That much at least is no lie. A matched pair of slave girls stood behind them, holding a striped silk awning over their heads, but even in the shade Dany felt light-headed, and Kraznys was perspiring freely. The Plaza of Pride had been baking in the sun since dawn. Even through the thickness of her sandals, she could feel the warmth of the red bricks underfoot. Waves of heat rose off them shimmering to make the stepped pyramids of Astapor around the plaza seem half a dream.\n\nIf the Unsullied felt the heat, however, they gave no hint of it. They could be made of brick themselves, the way they stand there. A thousand had been marched out of their barracks for her inspection; drawn up in ten ranks of one hundred before the fountain and its great bronze harpy, they stood stiffly at attention, their stony eyes fixed straight ahead. They wore nought but white linen clouts knotted about their loins, and conical bronze helms topped with a sharpened spike afoot tall. Kraznys had commanded them to lay down their spears and shields, and doff their swordbelts and quilted tunics, so the Queen of Westeros might better inspect the lean hardness of their bodies.\n\n\"They are chosen young, for size and speed and strength,\" the slave told her. \"They begin their training at five. Everyday they train from dawn to dusk, until they have mastered the shortsword, the shield, and the three spears. The training is most rigorous, Your Grace. Only one boy in three survives it. This is well known. Among the Unsullied it is said that on the day they win their spiked cap, the worst is done with, for no duty that will ever fall to them could be as hard as their training.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Kraznys mo Nakloz supposedly spoke no word of the Common Tongue, but he bobbed his head as he listened, and from time to time gave the slave girl a poke with the end of his lash."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell her that these have been standing here fora day and a night, with no food nor water. Tell her that they will stand until they drop if I should command it, and when nine hundred and ninety-nine have collapsed to die upon the bricks, the last will stand there still, and never move until his own death claims him. Such is their courage. Tell her that.\"\n\n\"I call that madness, not courage,\" said Arstan Whitebeard, when the solemn little scribe was done. He tapped the end of his hardwood staff against the bricks, tap tap, as if to tell his displeasure. The old man had not wanted to sail to Astapor; nor did he favor buying this slave army. A queen should hear all sides before reaching a decision. That was why Dany had brought him with her to the Plaza of Pride, not to keep her safe. Her bloodriders would do that well enough. Ser Jorah Mormont she had left aboard Balerion to guard her people and her dragons. Much against her inclination, she had locked the dragons belowdecks. It was too dangerous to let them fly freely over the city; the world was all too full of men who would gladly kill them for no better reason than to name themselves dragonslayer.\n\n\"What did the smelly old man say?\" the slaver demanded of his translator. When she told him, he smiled and said, \"Inform the savages that we call this obedience. Others maybe stronger or quicker or larger than the Unsullied. Some few may even equal their skill with sword and spear and shield. But nowhere between the seas will you ever find anymore obedient.\"\n\n\"Sheep are obedient,\" said Arstan when the words had been translated. He had some Valyrian as well, though not so much as Dany, but like her he was feigning ignorance."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kraznys mo Nakloz showed his big white teeth when that was rendered back to him. \"A word from me and these sheep would spill his stinking old bowels on the bricks,\" he said, \"but do not say that. Tell them that these creatures are more dogs than sheep. Do they eat dogs or horse in these Seven Kingdoms?\"\n\n\"They prefer pigs and cows, your worship.\"\n\n\"Beef. Pfag. Food for unwashed savages.\"\n\nIgnoring them all, Dany walked slowly down the line of slave soldiers. The girls followed close behind with the silk awning, to keep her in the shade, but the thousand men before her enjoyed no such protection. More than half had the copper skins and almond eyes of Dothraki and Lhazerene, but she saw men of the Free Cities in the ranks as well, along with pale Qartheen, ebon-faced Summer Islanders, and others whose origins she could not guess. And some had skins of the same amber hue as Kraznys mo Nakloz, and the bristly red-black hair that marked the ancient folk of Ghis, who named themselves the harpy's sons. They sell even their own kind. It should not have surprised her. The Dothraki did the same, when khalasar met khalasar in the sea of grass.\n\nSome of the soldiers were tall and some were short. They ranged in age from fourteen to twenty, she judged. Their cheeks were smooth, and their eyes all the same, be they black or brown or blue or grey or amber. They are like one man, Dany thought, until she remembered that they were no men at all. The Unsullied were eunuchs, everyone of them. \"Why do you cut them?\" she asked Kraznys through the slave girl. \"Whole men are stronger than eunuchs, I have always heard.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A eunuch who is cut young will never have the brute strength of one of your Westerosi knights, this is true,\" said Kraznys mo Nakloz when the question was put to him. \"A bull is strong as well, but bulls die everyday in the fighting pits. A girl of nine killed one not three days past in Jothiel's Pit. The Unsullied have something better than strength, tell her. They have discipline. We fight in the fashion of the Old Empire, yes. They are the lockstep legions of Old Ghis come again, absolutely obedient, absolutely loyal, and utterly without fear.\"\n\nDany listened patiently to the translation.\n\n\"Even the bravest men fear death and maiming,\" Arstan said when the girl was done.\n\nKraznys smiled again when he heard that. \"Tell the old man that he smells of piss, and needs a stick to hold him up.\"\n\n\"Truly, your worship?\"\n\nHe poked her with his lash. \"No, not truly, are you a girl or a goat, to ask such folly? Say that Unsullied are not men. Say that death means nothing to them, and maiming less than nothing.\" He stopped before a thickset man who had the look of Lhazar about him and brought his whip up sharply, laying a line of blood across one copper cheek. The eunuch blinked, and stood there, bleeding. \"Would you like another?\" asked Kraznys.\n\n\"If it please your worship.\"\n\nIt was hard to pretend not to understand. Dany laid a hand on Kraznys's arm before he could raise the whip again. \"Tell the Good Master that I see how strong his Unsullied are, and how bravely they suffer pain.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kraznys chuckled when he heard her words in Valyrian. \"Tell this ignorant whore of a westerner that courage has nothing to do with it.\"\n\n\"The Good Master says that was not courage, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Tell her to open those slut's eyes of hers.\"\n\n\"He begs you attend this carefully, Your Grace.\"\n\nKraznys moved to the next eunuch inline, a towering youth with the blue eyes and flaxen hair of Lys. \"Your sword,\" he said. The eunuch knelt, unsheathed the blade, and offered it up hilt first. It was a short-sword, made more for stabbing than for slashing, but the edge looked razor-sharp. \"Stand,\" Kraznys commanded.\n\n\"Your worship.\" The eunuch stood, and Kraznys mo Nakloz slid the sword slowly up his torso, leaving a thin red line across his belly and between his ribs. Then he jabbed the swordpoint in beneath a wide pink nipple and began to work it back and forth.\n\n\"What is he doing?\" Dany demanded of the girl, as the blood ran down the man's chest.\n\n\"Tell the cow to stop her bleating,\" said Kraznys, without waiting for the translation. \"This will do him no great harm. Men have no need of nipples, eunuchs even less so.\" The nipple hung by a thread of skin. He slashed, and sent it tumbling to the bricks, leaving behind around red eye copiously weeping blood. The eunuch did not move, until Kraznys offered him back his sword, hilt first. \"Here, I'm done with you.\"\n\n\"This one is pleased to have served you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kraznys turned back to Dany. \"They feel no pain, you see.\"\n\n\"How can that be?\" she demanded through the scribe.\n\n\"The wine of courage,\" was the answer he gave her. \" It is no true wine at all, but made from deadly nightshade, bloodfly larva, black lotus root, and many secret things. They drink it with every meal from the day they are cut, and with each passing year feel less and less. It makes them fearless in battle. Nor can they be tortured. Tell the savage her secrets are safe with the Unsullied. She may set them to guard her councils and even her bedchamber, and never a worry as to what they might overhear.\n\n\"In Yunkai and Meereen, eunuchs are often made by removing a boy's testicles, but leaving the penis. Such a creature is infertile, yet often still capable of erection. Only trouble can come of this. We remove the penis as well, leaving nothing. The Unsullied are the purest creatures on the earth.\" He gave Dany and Arstan another of his broad white smiles. \"I have heard that in the Sunset Kingdoms men take solemn vows to keep chaste and father no children, but live only for their duty. Is it not so?\"\n\n\"It is,\" Arstan said, when the question was put. \"There are many such orders. The maesters of the Citadel, the septons and septas who serve the Seven, the silent sisters of the dead, the Kingsguard and the Night's Watch...\"\n\n\"Poor things,\" growled the slaver, after the translation. \"Men were not made to live thus. Their days area torment of temptation, any fool must see, and no doubt most succumb to their baser selves. Not so our Unsullied. They are wed to their swords in away that your Sworn Brothers cannot hope to match. No woman can ever tempt them, nor any man.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His girl conveyed the essence of his speech, more politely."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There are other ways to tempt men, besides the flesh,\" Arstan Whitebeard objected, when she was done.\n\n\"Men, yes, but not Unsullied. Plunder interests them no more than rape. They own nothing but their weapons. We do not even permit them names.\"\n\n\"No names?\" Dany frowned at the little scribe. \"Can that be what the Good Master said? They have no names?\"\n\n\"It is so, Your Grace.\"\n\nKraznys stopped in front of a Ghiscari who might have been his taller fitter brother, and flicked his lash at a small bronze disk on the swordbelt at his feet. \"There is his name. Ask the whore of Westeros whether she can read Ghiscari glyphs.\" When Dany admitted that she could not, the slaver turned to the Unsullied. \"What is your name?\" he demanded.\n\n\"This one's name is Red Flea, your worship.\"\n\nThe girl repeated their exchange in the Common Tongue.\n\n\"And yesterday, what was it?\"\n\n\"Black Rat, your worship.\"\n\n\"The day before?\"\n\n\"Brown Flea, your worship.\"\n\n\"Before that?\"\n\n\"This one does not recall, your worship. Blue Toad, perhaps. Or Blue Worm.\"\n\n\"Tell her all their names are such,\" Kraznys commanded the girl. \"It reminds them that by themselves they are vermin. The name disks are thrown in an empty cask at duty's end, and each dawn plucked up again at random.\"\n\n\"More madness,\" said Arstan, when he heard. \"How can any man possibly remember anew name everyday?\"\n\n\"Those who cannot are culled in training, along with those who cannot run all day in full pack, scale a mountain in the black of night, walk across abed of coals, or slay an infant.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany's mouth surely twisted at that. Did he see, or is he blind as well as cruel? She turned away quickly, trying to keep her face a mask until she heard the translation. Only then did she allow herself to say, \"Whose infants do they slay?\"\n\n\"To win his spiked cap, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find some wailing newborn, and kill it before its mother's eyes. In this way, we make certain that there is no weakness left in them.\"\n\nShe was feeling faint. The heat, she tried to tell herself. \"You take a babe from its mother's arms, kill it as she watches, and pay for her pain with a silver coin?\"\n\nWhen the translation was made for him, Kraznys mo Nakloz laughed aloud. \"What a soft mewling fool this one is. Tell the whore of Westeros that the mark is for the child's owner, not the mother. The Unsullied are not permitted to steal.\" He tapped his whip against his leg. \"Tell her that few ever fail that test. The dogs are harder for them, it must be said. We give each boy a puppy on the day that he is cut. At the end of the first year, he is required to strangle it. Any who cannot are killed, and fed to the surviving dogs. It makes fora good strong lesson, we find.\"\n\nArstan Whitebeard tapped the end of his staff on the bricks as he listened to that. Tap tap tap. Slow and steady. Tap tap tap. Dany saw him turn his eyes away, as if he could not bear to look at Kraznys any longer.\n\n\"The Good Master has said that these eunuchs cannot be tempted with coin or flesh,\" Dany told the girl, \"but if some enemy of mine should offer them freedom for betraying me...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They would kill him out of hand and bring her his head, tell her that,\" the slaver answered. \"Other slaves may steal and hoard up silver in hopes of buying freedom, but an Unsullied would not take it if the little mare offered it as a gift. They have no life outside their duty. They are soldiers, and that is all.\"\n\n\"It is soldiers I need,\" Dany admitted.\n\n\"Tell her it is well she came to Astapor, then. Ask her how large an army she wishes to buy.\"\n\n\"How many Unsullied do you have to sell?\"\n\n\"Eight thousand fully trained and available at present. We sell them only by the unit, she should know. By the thousand or the century. Once we sold by the ten, as household guards, but that proved unsound. Ten is too few. They mingle with other slaves, even freemen, and forget who and what they are.\" Kraznys waited for that to be rendered in the Common Tongue, and then continued. \"This beggar queen must understand, such wonders do not come cheaply. In Yunkai and Meereen, slave swordsmen can be had for less than the price of their swords, but Unsullied are the finest foot in all the world, and each represents many years of training. Tell her they are like Valyrian steel, folded over and over and hammered for years on end, until they are stronger and more resilient than any metal on earth.\"\n\n\"I know of Valyrian steel,\" said Dany. \"Ask the Good Master if the Unsullied have their own officers.\"\n\n\"You must set your own officers over them. We train them to obey, not to think. If it is wits she wants, let her buy scribes.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And their gear?\"\n\n\"Sword, shield, spear, sandals, and quilted tunic are included,\" said Kraznys. \"And the spiked caps, to be sure. They will wear such armor as you wish, but you must provide it.\"\n\nDany could think of no other questions. She looked at Arstan. \"You have lived long in the world, Whitebeard. Now that you have seen them, what do you say?\"\n\n\"I say no, Your Grace,\" the old man answered at once.\n\n\"Why?\" she asked. \"Speak freely.\" Dany thought she knew what he would say, but she wanted the slave girl to hear, so Kraznys mo Nakloz might hear later.\n\n\"My queen,\" said Arstan, \"there have been no slaves in the Seven Kingdoms for thousands of years. The old gods and the new alike hold slavery to bean abomination. Evil. If you should land in Westeros at the head of a slave army, many good men will oppose you for no other reason than that. You will do great harm to your cause, and to the honor of your House.\"\n\n\"Yet I must have some army,\" Dany said. \"The boy Joffrey will not give me the Iron Throne for asking politely.\"\n\n\"When the day comes that you raise your banners, half of Westeros will be with you,\" Whitebeard promised. \"Your brother Rhaegar is still remembered, with great love.\"\n\n\"And my father?\" Dany said.\n\nThe old man hesitated before saying, \"King Aerys is also remembered. He gave the realm many years of peace. Your Grace, you have no need of slaves. Magister Illyrio can keep you safe while your dragons grow, and send secret envoys across the narrow sea on your behalf, to sound out the high lords for your cause.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 25"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And their gear?\"\n\n\"Sword, shield, spear, sandals, and quilted tunic are included,\" said Kraznys. \"And the spiked caps, to be sure. They will wear such armor as you wish, but you must provide it.\"\n\nDany could think of no other questions. She looked at Arstan. \"You have lived long in the world, Whitebeard. Now that you have seen them, what do you say?\"\n\n\"I say no, Your Grace,\" the old man answered at once.\n\n\"Why?\" she asked. \"Speak freely.\" Dany thought she knew what he would say, but she wanted the slave girl to hear, so Kraznys mo Nakloz might hear later.\n\n\"My queen,\" said Arstan, \"there have been no slaves in the Seven Kingdoms for thousands of years. The old gods and the new alike hold slavery to bean abomination. Evil. If you should land in Westeros at the head of a slave army, many good men will oppose you for no other reason than that. You will do great harm to your cause, and to the honor of your House.\"\n\n\"Yet I must have some army,\" Dany said. \"The boy Joffrey will not give me the Iron Throne for asking politely.\"\n\n\"When the day comes that you raise your banners, half of Westeros will be with you,\" Whitebeard promised. \"Your brother Rhaegar is still remembered, with great love.\"\n\n\"And my father?\" Dany said.\n\nThe old man hesitated before saying, \"King Aerys is also remembered. He gave the realm many years of peace. Your Grace, you have no need of slaves. Magister Illyrio can keep you safe while your dragons grow, and send secret envoys across the narrow sea on your behalf, to sound out the high lords for your cause.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Those same high lords who abandoned my father to the Kingslayer and bent the knee to Robert the Usurper?\"\n\n\"Even those who bent their knees may yearn in their hearts for the return of the dragons.\"\n\n\"May,\" said Dany. That was such a slippery word, may. In any language. She turned back to Kraznys mo Nakloz and his slave girl. \"I must consider carefully.\"\n\nThe slaver shrugged. \"Tell her to consider quickly. There are many other buyers. Only three days past I showed these same Unsullied to a corsair king who hopes to buy them all.\"\n\n\"The corsair wanted only a hundred, your worship,\" Dany heard the slave girl say.\n\nHe poked her with the end of the whip. \"Consairs are all liars. He'll buy them all. Tell her that, girl.\"\n\nDany knew she would take more than a hundred, if she took any at all. \"Remind your Good Master of who I am. Remind him that I am Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, trueborn queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. My blood is the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and of old Valyria before him.\"\n\nYet her words did not move the plump perfumed slaver, even when rendered in his own ugly tongue. \"Old Ghis ruled an empire when the Valyrians were still fucking sheep,\" he growled at the poor little scribe, \"and we are the sons of the harpy.\" He gave a shrug. \"My tongue is wasted wagging at women. East or west, it makes no matter, they cannot decide until they have been pampered and flattered and stuffed with sweetmeats. Well, if this is my fate, so be it. Tell the whore that if she requires a guide to our sweet city, Kraznys mo Nakloz will gladly serve her... and service her as well, if she is more woman than she looks.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Good Master Kraznys would be most pleased to show you Astapor while you ponder, Your Grace,\" the translator said.\n\n\"I will feed her jellied dog brains, and a fine rich stew of red octopus and unborn puppy.\" He wiped his lips.\n\n\"Many delicious dishes can be had here, he says.\"\n\n\"Tell her how pretty the pyramids are at night,\" the slaver growled. \"Tell her I will lick honey off her breasts, or allow her to lick honey off mine if she prefers.\"\n\n\"Astapor is most beautiful at dusk, Your Grace,\" said the slave girl. \"The Good Masters light silk lanterns on every terrace, so all the pyramids glow with colored lights. Pleasure barges ply the Worm, playing soft music and calling at the little islands for food and wine and other delights.\"\n\n\"Ask her if she wishes to view our fighting pits,\" Kraznys added. \"Douquor's Pit has a fine folly scheduled for the evening. A bear and three small boys. One boy will be rolled in honey, one in blood, and one in rotting fish, and she may wager on which the bear will eat first.\"\n\nTap tap tap, Dany heard. Arstan Whitebeard's face was still, but his staff beat out his rage. Tap tap tap. She made herself smile. \"I have my own bear on Balerion,\" she told the translator, \"and he may well eat me if I do not return to him.\"\n\n\"See,\" said Kraznys when her words were translated. \"It is not the woman who decides, it is this man she runs to. As ever!\"\n\n\"Thank the Good Master for his patient kindness,\" Dany said, \"and tell him that I will think on all I learned here.\" She gave her arm to Arstan Whitebeard, to lead her back across the plaza to her litter. Aggo and Jhogo fell into either side of them, walking with the bowlegged swagger all the horselords affected when forced to dismount and stride the earth like common mortals."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany climbed into her litter frowning, and beckoned Arstan to climb in beside her. A man as old as him should not be walking in such heat. She did not close the curtains as they got underway. With the sun beating down so fiercely on this city of redbrick, every stray breeze was to be cherished, even if it did come with a swirl of fine red dust. Besides, I need to see.\n\nAstapor was a queer city, even to the eyes of one who had walked within the House of Dust and bathed in the Womb of the World beneath the Mother of Mountains. All the streets were made of the same redbrick that had paved the plaza. So too were the stepped pyramids, the deep-dug fighting pits with their rings of descending seats, the sulfurous fountains and gloomy wine caves, and the ancient walls that encircled them. So many bricks, she thought, and so old and crumbling. Their fine red dust was everywhere, dancing down the gutters at each gust of wind. Small wonder so many Astapori women veiled their faces; the brick dust stung the eyes worse than sand.\n\n\"Make way!\" Jhogo shouted as he rode before her litter. \"Make way for the Mother of Dragons!\" But when he uncoiled the great silver-handled whip that Dany had given him, and made to crack it in the air, she leaned out and told him nay. \"Not in this place, blood of my blood,\" she said, in his own tongue. \"These bricks have heard too much of the sound of whips.\"\n\nThe streets had been largely deserted when they had set out from the port that morning, and scarcely seemed more crowded now. An elephant lumbered past with a latticework litter on its back. A naked boy with peeling skin satin a dry brick gutter, picking his nose and staring sullenly at some ants in the street. He lifted his head at the sound of hooves, and gaped as a column of mounted guards trotted by in a cloud of red dust and brittle laughter. The copper disks sewn to their cloaks of yellow silk glittered like so many suns, but their tunics were embroidered linen, and below the waist they wore sandals and pleated linen skirts. Bareheaded, each man had teased and oiled and twisted his stiff red-black hair into some fantastic shape, horns and wings and blades and even grasping hands, so they looked like some troupe of demons escaped from the seventh hell. The naked boy watched them fora bit, along with Dany, but soon enough they were gone, and he went back to his ants, and a knuckle up his nose."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "An old city, this, she reflected, but not so populous as it was in its glory, nor near so crowded as Qarth or Pentos or Lys.\n\nHer litter came to a sudden halt at the cross street, to allow a coffle of slaves to shuffle across her path, urged along by the crack of an overseer's lash. These were no Unsullied, Dany noted, but a more common sort of men, with pale brown skins and black hair. There were women among them, but no children. All were naked. Two Astapori rode behind them on white asses, a man in a red silk tokar and a veiled woman in sheer blue linen decorated with flakes of lapis lazuli. In her red-black hair she wore an ivory comb. The man laughed as he whispered to her, paying no more mind to Dany than to his slaves, nor the overseer with his twisted five-thonged lash, a squat broad Dothraki who had the harpy and chains tattooed proudly across his muscular chest.\n\n\"Bricks and blood built Astapor,\" Whitebeard murmured at her side, \"and bricks and blood her people.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" Dany asked him, curious.\n\n\"An old rhyme a maester taught me, when I was a boy. I never knew how true it was. The bricks of Astapor are red with the blood of the slaves who make them.\"\n\n\"I can well believe that,\" said Dany.\n\n\"Then leave this place before your heart turns to brick as well. Sail this very night, on the evening tide.\"\n\nWould that I could, thought Dany. \"When I leave Astapor it must be with an army, Ser Jorah says.\"\n\n\"Ser Jorah was a slaver himself, Your Grace,\" the old man reminded her. \"There are sellswords in Pentos and Myr and Tyrosh you can hire. A man who kills for coin has no honor, but at least they are no slaves. Find your army there, I beg you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My brother visited Pentos, Myr, Braavos, near all the Free Cities. The magisters and archons fed him wine and promises, but his soul was starved to death. A man cannot sup from the beggar's bowl all his life and stay a man. I had my taste in Qarth, that was enough. I will not come to Pentos bowl in hand.\"\n\n\"Better to come a beggar than a slaver,\" Arstan said.\n\n\"There speaks one who has been neither.\" Dany's nostrils flared. \"Do you know what it is like to be sold, squire? I do. My brother sold me to Khal Drogo for the promise of a golden crown. Well, Drogo crowned him in gold, though not as he had wished, and I... my sun-and-stars made a queen of me, but if he had been a different man, it might have been much otherwise. Do you think I have forgotten how it felt to be afraid?\"\n\nWhitebeard bowed his head. \"Your Grace, I did not mean to give offense.\"\n\n\"Only lies offend me, never honest counsel.\" Dany patted Arstan's spotted hand to reassure him. \"I have a dragon's temper, that's all. You must not let it frighten you.\"\n\n\"I shall try and remember.\" Whitebeard smiled.\n\nHe has a good face, and great strength to him, Dany thought. She could not understand why Ser Jorah mistrusted the old man so. Could he be jealous that I have found another man to talk to? Unbidden, her thoughts went back to the night on Balerion when the exile knight had kissed her. He should never have done that. He is thrice my age, and of too low a birth for me, and I never gave him leave. No true knight would ever kiss a queen without her leave. She had taken care never to be alone with Ser Jorah after that, keeping her handmaids with her aboard ship, and sometimes her bloodriders. He wants to kiss me again, I see it in his eyes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What Dany wanted she could not begin to say, but Jorah's kiss had woken something in her, something that had been sleeping since Khal Drogo died. Lying abed in her narrow bunk, she found herself wondering how it would be to have a man squeezed in beside her in place of her handmaid, and the thought was more exciting than it should have been. Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow.\n\nOnce, so tormented she could not sleep, Dany slid a hand down between her legs, and gasped when she felt how wet she was. Scarce daring to breathe, she moved her fingers back and forth between her lower lips, slowly so as not to wake Irri beside her, until she found one sweet spot and lingered there, touching herself lightly, timidly at first and then faster. Still, the relief she wanted seemed to recede before her, until her dragons stirred, and one screamed out across the cabin, and Irri woke and saw what she was doing.\n\nDany knew her face was flushed, but in the darkness Irri surely could not tell. Wordless, the handmaid put a hand on her breast, then bent to take a nipple in her mouth. Her other hand drifted down across the soft curve of belly, through the mound of fine silvery-gold hair, and went to work between Dany's thighs. It was no more than a few moments until her legs twisted and her breasts heaved and her whole body shuddered. She screamed then. Or perhaps that was Drogon. Irri never said a thing, only curled backup and went back to sleep the instant the thing was done.\n\nThe next day, it all seemed a dream. And what did Ser Jorah have to do with it, if anything? It is Drogo I want, my sun-and-stars, Dany reminded herself. Not Irri, and not Ser Jorah, only Drogo. Drogo was dead, though. She'd thought these feelings had died with him therein the red waste, but one treacherous kiss had somehow brought them back to life. He should never have kissed me. He presumed too much, and I permitted it. It must never happen again. She set her mouth grimly and gave her head a shake, and the bell in her braid chimed softly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Closer to the bay, the city presented a fairer face. The great brick pyramids lined the shore, the largest four hundred feet high. All manner of trees and vines and flowers grew on their broad terraces, and the winds that swirled around them smelled green and fragrant. Another gigantic harpy stood atop the gate, this one made of baked red clay and crumbling visibly, with no more than a stub of her scorpion's tail remaining. The chain she grasped in her clay claws was old iron, rotten with rust. It was cooler down by the water, though. The lapping of the waves against the rotting pilings made a curiously soothing sound.\n\nAggo helped Dany down from her litter. Strong Belwas was seated on a massive piling, eating a great haunch of brown roasted meat. \"Dog,\" he said happily when he saw Dany. \"Good dog in Astapor, little queen. Eat?\" He offered it with a greasy grin.\n\n\"That is kind of you, Belwas, but no.\" Dany had eaten dog in other places, at other times, but just now all she could think of was the Unsullied and their stupid puppies. She swept past the huge eunuch and up the plank onto the deck of Balerion.\n\nSer Jorah Mormont stood waiting for her. \"Your Grace,\" he said, bowing his head. \"The slavers have come and gone. Three of them, with a dozen scribes and as many slaves to lift and fetch. They crawled over every foot of our holds and made note of all we had.\" He walked her aft. \"How many men do they have for sale?\"\n\n\"None.\" Was it Mormont she was angry with, or this city with its sullen heat, its stinks and sweats and crumbling bricks? \"They sell eunuchs, not men. Eunuchs made of brick, like the rest of Astapor. Shall I buy eight thousand brick eunuchs with dead eyes that never move, who kill suckling babes for the sake of a spiked hat and strangle their own dogs? They don't even have names. So don't call them men, ser.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Khaleesi,\" he said, taken aback by her fury, \"the Unsullied are chosen as boys, and trained-\"\n\n\"I have heard all I care to of their training.\" Dany could feel tears welling in her eyes, sudden and unwanted. Her hand flashed up and cracked Ser Jorah hard across the face. It was either that, or cry.\n\nMormont touched the cheek she'd slapped. \"If I have displeased my queen-\"\n\n\"You have. You've displeased me greatly, ser. If you were my true knight, you would never have brought me to this vile sty.\" If you were my true knight, you would never have kissed me, or looked at my breasts the way you did, or...\n\n\"As Your Grace commands. I shall tell Captain Groleo to make ready to sail on the evening tide, for some sty less vile.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Dany. Groleo watched them from the forecastle, and his crew was watching too. Whitebeard, her bloodriders, Jhiqui, everyone had stopped what they were doing at the sound of the slap. \"I want to sail now, not on the tide, I want to sail far and fast and never look back. But I can't, can I? There are eight thousand brick eunuchs for sale, and I must find someway to buy them.\" And with that she left him, and went below.\n\nBehind the carved wooden door of the captain's cabin, her dragons were restless. Drogon raised his head and screamed, pale smoke venting from his nostrils, and Viserion flapped at her and tried to perch on her shoulder, as he had when he was smaller. \"No,\" Dany said, trying to shrug him off gently. \"You're too big for that now, sweetling.\" But the dragon coiled his white and gold tail around one arm and dug black claws into the fabric of her sleeve, clinging tightly. Helpless, she sank into Groleo's great leather chair, giggling."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"They have been wild while you were gone, Khaleesi,\" Irri told her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Viserion clawed splinters from the door, do you see? And Drogon made to escape when the slaver men came to see them. When I grabbed his tail to hold him back, he turned and bit me.\" She showed Dany the marks of his teeth on her hand.\n\n\"Did any of them try to burn their way free?\" That was the thing that frightened Dany the most.\n\n\"No, Khaleesi. Drogon breathed his fire, but in the empty air. The slaver men feared to come near him.\"\n\nShe kissed Irri's hand where Drogon had bitten it. \"I'm sorry he hurt you. Dragons are not meant to be locked up in a small ship's cabin.\"\n\n\"Dragons are like horses in this,\" Irri said. \"And riders, too. The horses scream below, Khaleesi, and kick at the wooden walls. I hear them. And Jhiqui says the old women and the little ones scream too, when you are not here. They do not like this water cart. They do not like the black salt sea.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Dany said. \"I do, I know.\"\n\n\"My khaleesi is sad?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Dany admitted. Sad and lost.\n\n\"Should I pleasure the khaleesi?\"\n\nDany stepped away from her. \"No. Irri, you do not need to do that. What happened that night, when you woke... you're no bed slave, I freed you, remember? You...\"\n\n\"I am handmaid to the Mother of Dragons,\" the girl said. \"It is great honor to please my khaleesi.\"\n\n\"I don't want that,\" she insisted. \"I don't.\" She turned away sharply. \"Leave me now. I want to be alone. To think.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dusk had begun to settle over the waters of Slaver's Bay before Dany returned to the deck. She stood by the rail and looked out over Astapor. From here it looks almost beautiful, she thought. The stars were coming out above, and the silk lanterns below, just as Kraznys's translator had promised. The brick pyramids were all glimmery with light. But it is dark below, in the streets and plazas and fighting pits. And it is darkest of all in the barracks, where some little boy is feeding scraps to the puppy they gave him when they took away his manhood.\n\nThere was a soft step behind her. \"Khaleesi.\" His voice. \"Might I speak frankly?\"\n\nDany did not turn. She could not bear to look at him just now. If she did, she might well slap him again. Or cry. Or kiss him. And never know which was right and which was wrong and which was madness. \"Say what you will, ser.\"\n\n\"When Aegon the Dragon stepped ashore in Westeros, the kings of Vale and Rock and Reach did not rush to hand him their crowns. If you mean to sit his Iron Throne, you must win it as he did, with steel and dragonfire. And that will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done.\"\n\nBlood and fire, thought Dany. The words of House Targaryen. She had known them all her life. \"The blood of my enemies I will shed gladly. The blood of innocents is another matter. Eight thousand Unsullied they would offer me. Eight thousand dead babes. Eight thousand strangled dogs.\"\n\n\"Your Grace,\" said Jorah Mormont, \"I saw King's Landing after the Sack. Babes were butchered that day as well, and old men, and children at play. More women were raped than you can count. There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. The scent of blood is all it takes to wake him. Yet I have never heard of these Unsullied raping, nor putting a city to the sword, nor even plundering, save at the express command of those who lead them. Brick they maybe, as you say, but if you buy them henceforth the only dogs they'll kill are those you want dead. And you do have some dogs you want dead, as I recall.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Usurper's dogs. \"Yes.\" Dany gazed off at the soft colored lights and let the cool salt breeze caress her. \"You speak of sacking cities. Answer me this, ser-why have the Dothraki never sacked this city?\" She pointed. \"Look at the walls. You can see where they've begun to crumble. There, and there. Do you see any guards on those towers? I don't. Are they hiding, ser? I saw these sons of the harpy today, all their proud highborn warriors. They dressed in linen skirts, and the fiercest thing about them was their hair. Even a modest khalasar could crack this Astapor like a nut and spill out the rotted meat inside. So tell me, why is that ugly harpy not sitting beside the godsway in Vaes Dothrak among the other stolen gods?\"\n\n\"You have a dragon's eye, Khaleesi, that's plain to see.\"\n\n\"I wanted an answer, not a compliment.\"\n\n\"There are two reasons. Astapor's brave defenders are so much chaff, it's true. Old names and fat purses who dress up as Ghiscari scourges to pretend they still rule avast empire. Everyone is a high officer. On feastdays they fight mock wars in the pits to demonstrate what brilliant commanders they are, but it's the eunuchs who do the dying. All the same, any enemy wanting to sack Astapor would have to know that they'd be facing Unsullied. The slavers would turnout the whole garrison in the city's defense. The Dothraki have not ridden against Unsullied since they left their braids at the gates of Qohor.\"\n\n\"And the second reason?\" Dany asked.\n\n\"Who would attack Astapor?\" Ser Jorah asked. \"Meereen and Yunkai are rivals but not enemies, the Doom destroyed Valyria, the folk of the eastern hinterlands are all Ghiscari, and beyond the hills lies Lhazar. The Lamb Men, as your Dothraki call them, a notably unwarlike people.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes,\" she agreed, \"but north of the slave cities is the Dothraki sea, and two dozen mighty khals who like nothing more than sacking cities and carrying off their people into slavery.\"\n\n\"Carrying them off where? What good are slaves once you've killed the slavers? Valyria is no more, Qarth lies beyond the red waste, and the Nine Free Cities are thousands of leagues to the west. And you maybe sure the sons of the harpy give lavishly to every passing khal, just as the magisters do in Pentos and Norvos and Myr. They know that if they feast the horselords and give them gifts, they will soon ride on. It's cheaper than fighting, and a deal more certain.\"\n\nCheaper than fighting, Dany thought. Yes, it might be. If only it could be that easy for her. How pleasant it would be to sail to King's Landing with her dragons, and pay the boy Joffrey a chest of gold to make him go away.\n\n\"Khaleesi?\" Ser Jorah prompted, when she had been silent fora longtime. He touched her elbow lightly.\n\nDany shrugged him off. \"Viserys would have bought as many Unsullied as he had the coin for. But you once said I was like Rhaegar...\"\n\n\"I remember, Daenerys.\"\n\n\"Your Grace,\" she corrected. \"Prince Rhaegar led freemen into battle, not slaves. Whitebeard said he dubbed his squires himself, and made many other knights as well.\"\n\n\"There was no higher honor than to receive your knighthood from the Prince of Dragonstone.\"\n\n\"Tell me, then-when he touched a man on the shoulder with his sword, what did he say? \"Go forth and kill the weak\"? Or \"Go forth and defend them\"? At the Trident, those brave men Viserys spoke of who died beneath our dragon banners-did they give their lives because they believed in Rhaegar's cause, or because they had been bought and paid for?\" Dany turned to Mormont, crossed her arms, and waited for an answer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My queen,\" the big man said slowly, \"all you say is true. But Rhaegar lost on the Trident. He lost the battle, he lost the war, he lost the kingdom, and he lost his life. His blood swirled downriver with the rubies from his breastplate, and Robert the Usurper rode over his corpse to steal the Iron Throne. Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "BRAN\n\nNo roads ran through the twisted mountain valleys where they walked now. Between the grey stone peaks lay still blue lakes, long and deep and narrow, and the green gloom of endless piney woods. The russet and gold of autumn leaves grew less common when they left the wolfswood to climb amongst the old flint hills, and vanished by the time those hills had turned to mountains. Giant grey-green sentinels loomed above them now, and spruce and fir and soldier pines in endless profusion. The undergrowth was sparse beneath them, the forest floor carpeted in dark green needles.\n\nWhen they lost their way, as happened once or twice, they need only wait fora clear cold night when the clouds did not intrude, and lookup in the sky for the Ice Dragon. The blue star in the dragon's eye pointed the way north, as Osha told him once. Thinking of Osha made Bran wonder where she was. He pictured her safe in White Harbor with Rickon and Shaggydog, eating eels and fish and hot crab pie with fat Lord Manderly. Or maybe they were warming themselves at the Last Hearth before the Greatjon's fires. But Bran's life had turned into endless chilly days on Hodor's back, riding his basket up and down the slopes of mountains.\n\n\"Up and down,\" Meera would sigh sometimes as they walked, \"then down and up. Then up and down again. I hate these stupid mountains of yours, Prince Bran.\"\n\n\"Yesterday you said you loved them.\"\n\n\"Oh, I do. My lord father told me about mountains, but I never saw one till now. I love them more than I can say.\"\n\nBran made a face at her. \"But you just said you hated them.\"\n\n\"Why can't it be both?\" Meera reached up to pinch his nose."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Because they're different,\" he insisted. \"Like night and day, or ice and fire.\"\n\n\"If ice can burn,\" said Jojen in his solemn voice, \"then love and hate can mate. Mountain or marsh, it makes no matter. The land is one.\"\n\n\"One,\" his sister agreed, \"but over wrinkled.\"\n\nThe high glens seldom did them the courtesy of running north and south, so often they found themselves going long leagues in the wrong direction, and sometimes they were forced to double back the way they'd come. \"If we took the kingsroad we could beat the Wall by now,\" Bran would remind the Reeds. He wanted to find the three-eyed crow, so he could learn to fly. Half a hundred times he said it if he said it once, until Meera started teasing by saying it along with him.\n\n\"If we took the kingsroad we wouldn't be so hungry either,\" he started saying then. Down in the hills they'd had no lack of food. Meera was a fine huntress, and even better at taking fish from streams with her three-pronged frog spear. Bran liked to watch her, admiring her quickness, the way she sent the spear lancing down and pulled it back with a silvery trout wriggling on the end of it. And they had Summer hunting for them as well. The direwolf vanished most every night as the sun went down, but he was always back again before dawn, most often with something in his jaws, a squirrel or a hare.\n\nBut herein the mountains, the streams were smaller and more icy, and the game scarcer. Meera still hunted and fished when she could, but it was harder, and some nights even Summer found no prey. Often they went to sleep with empty bellies."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But Jojen remained stubbornly determined to stay well away from roads. \"Where you find roads you find travelers,\" he said in that way he had, \"and travelers have eyes to see, and mouths to spread tales of the crippled boy, his giant, and the wolf that walks beside them.\" No one could get as stubborn as Jojen, so they struggled on through the wild, and everyday climbed a little higher, and moved a little farther north.\n\nSome days it rained, some days were windy, and once they were caught in a sleet storm so fierce that even Hodor bellowed in dismay. On the clear days, it often seemed as if they were the only living things in all the world. \"Does no one live up here?\" Meera Reed asked once, as they made their way around a granite upthrust as large as Winterfell.\n\n\"There's people,\" Bran told her. \"The Umbers are mostly east of the kingsroad, but they graze their sheep in the high meadows in summer. There are Wulls west of the mountains along the Bay of Ice, Harclays back behind us in the hills, and Knotts and Liddles and Norreys and even some Flints up herein the high places.\" His father's mother's mother had been a Flint of the mountains. Old Nan once said that it washer blood in him that made Bran such a fool for climbing before his fall. She had died years and years and years before he was born, though, even before his father had been born.\n\n\"Wull?\" said Meera. \"Jojen, wasn't there a Wull who rode with Father during the war?\"\n\n\"Theo Wull.\" Jojen was breathing hard from the climb. \"Buckets, they used to call him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"That's their sigil,\" said Bran."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Three brown buckets on a blue field, with a border of white and grey checks. Lord Wull came to Winterfell once, to do his fealty and talk with Father, and he had the buckets on his shield. He's no true lord, though. Well, he is, but they call him just the Wull, and there's the Knott and the Norrey and the Liddle too. At Winterfell we called them lords, but their own folk don't.\"\n\nJojen Reed stopped to catch his breath. \"Do you think these mountain folk know we're here?\"\n\n\"They know.\" Bran had seen them watching; not with his own eyes, but with Summer's sharper ones, that missed so little. \"They won't bother us so long as we don't try and make off with their goats or horses.\"\n\nNor did they. Only once did they encounter any of the mountain people, when a sudden burst of freezing rain sent them looking for shelter. Summer found it for them, sniffing out a shallow cave behind the grey-green branches of a towering sentinel tree, but when Hodor ducked beneath the stony overhang, Bran saw the orange glow of fire farther back and realized they were not alone. \"Come in and warm yourselves,\" a man's voice called out. \"There's stone enough to keep the rain off all our heads.\"\n\nHe offered them oatcakes and blood sausage and a swallow of ale from a skin he carried, but never his name; nor did he ask theirs. Bran figured him fora Liddle. The clasp that fastened his squirrelskin cloak was gold and bronze and wrought in the shape of a pinecone, and the Liddles bore pinecones on the white half of their green-and-white shields.\n\n\"Is it far to the Wall?\" Bran asked him as they waited for the rain to stop."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Not so far as the raven flies,\" said the Liddle, if that was who he was."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Farther, for them as lacks wings.\"\n\nBran started, \"I'd bet we'd be there if...\"\n\n\"... we took the kingsroad,\" Meera finished with him.\n\nThe Liddle took out a knife and whittled at a stick. \"When there was a Stark in Winterfell, a maiden girl could walk the kingsroad in her name-day gown and still go unmolested, and travelers could find fire, bread, and salt at many an inn and holdfast. But the nights are colder now, and doors are closed. There's squids in the wolfswood, and flayed men ride the kingsroad asking after strangers.\"\n\nThe Reeds exchanged a look. \"Flayed men?\" said Jojen.\n\n\"The Bastard's boys, aye. He was dead, but now he's not. And paying good silver for wolfskins, a man hears, and maybe gold for word of certain other walking dead.\" He looked at Bran when he said that, and at Summer stretched out beside him. \"As to that Wall,\" the man went on, \"it's not a place that I'd be going. The Old Bear took the Watch into the haunted woods, and all that comeback was his ravens, with hardly a message between them. Dark wings, dark words, me mother used to say, but when the birds fly silent, seems tome that's even darker.\" He poked at the fire with his stick. \"It was different when there was a Stark in Winterfell. But the old wolf's dead and young one's gone south to play the game of thrones, and all that's left us is the ghosts.\"\n\n\"The wolves will come again,\" said Jojen solemnly.\n\n\"And how would you be knowing, boy?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I dreamed it.\"\n\n\"Some nights I dream of me mother that I buried nine years past,\" the man said, \"but when I wake, she's not comeback to us.\"\n\n\"There are dreams and dreams, my lord.\"\n\n\"Hodor,\" said Hodor.\n\nThey spent that night together, for the rain did not letup till well past dark, and only Summer seemed to want to leave the cave. When the fire had burned down to embers, Bran let him go. The direwolf did not feel the damp as people did, and the night was calling him. Moonlight painted the wet woods in shades of silver and turned the grey peaks white. Owls hooted through the dark and flew silently between the pines, while pale goats moved along the mountainsides. Bran closed his eyes and gave himself up to the wolf dream, to the smells and sounds of midnight.\n\nWhen they woke the next morning, the fire had gone out and the Liddle was gone, but he'd left a sausage for them, and a dozen oatcakes folded up neatly in a green and white cloth. Some of the cakes had pinenuts baked in them and some had blackberries. Bran ate one of each, and still did not know which sort he liked the best. One day there would be Starks in Winterfell again, he told himself, and then he'd send for the Liddles and pay them back a hundredfold for every nut and berry.\n\nThe trail they followed was a little easier that day, and by noon the sun came breaking through the clouds. Bran satin his basket upon Hodor's back and felt almost content. He dozed off once, lulled to sleep by the smooth swing of the big stableboy's stride and the soft humming sound he made sometimes when he walked. Meera woke him up with alight touch on his arm. \"Look,\" she said, pointing at the sky with her frog spear, \"an eagle.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bran lifted his head and saw it, its grey wings spread and still as it floated on the wind."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He followed it with his eyes as it circled higher, wondering what it would be like to soar about the world so effortless. Better than climbing, even. He tried to reach the eagle, to leave his stupid crippled body and rise into the sky to join it, the way he joined with Summer. The greenseers could do it. I should be able to do it too. He tried and tried, until the eagle vanished in the golden haze of the afternoon. \"It's gone,\" he said, disappointed.\n\n\"We'll see others,\" said Meera. \"They live up here.\"\n\n\"I suppose.\"\n\n\"Hodor,\" said Hodor.\n\n\"Hodor,\" Bran agreed.\n\nJojen kicked a pinecone. \"Hodor likes it when you say his name, I think.\"\n\n\"Hodor's not his true name,\" Bran explained. \"It's just some word he says. His real name is Walder, Old Nan told me. She was his grandmother's grandmother or something.\" Talking about Old Nan made him sad. \"Do you think the ironmen killed her?\" They hadn't seen her body at Winterfell. He didn't remember seeing any women dead, now that he thought back. \"She never hurt no one, not even Theon. She just told stories. Theon wouldn't hurt someone like that. Would he?\"\n\n\"Some people hurt others just because they can,\" said Jojen.\n\n\"And it wasn't Theon who did the killing at Winterfell,\" said Meera. \"Too many of the dead were ironmen.\" She shifted her frog spear to her other hand. \"Remember Old Nan's stories, Bran. Remember the way she told them, the sound of her voice. So long as you do that, part of her will always be alive in you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll remember,\" he promised. They climbed without speaking fora longtime, following a crooked game trail over the high saddle between two stony peaks. Scrawny soldier pines clung to the slopes around them. Far ahead Bran could seethe icy glitter of a stream where it tumbled down a mountainside. He found himself listening to Jojen's breathing and the crunch of pine needles under Hodor's feet. \"Do you know any stories?\" he asked the Reeds all of a sudden.\n\nMeera laughed. \"Oh, a few.\"\n\n\"A few,\" her brother admitted.\n\n\"Hodor,\" said Hodor, humming.\n\n\"You could tell one,\" said Bran. \"While we walked. Hodor likes stories about knights. I do, too.\"\n\n\"There are no knights in the Neck,\" said Jojen.\n\n\"Above the water,\" his sister corrected. \"The bogs are full of dead ones, though.\"\n\n\"That's true,\" said Jojen. \"Andals and ironmen, Freys and other fools, all those proud warriors who set out to conquer Greywater. Not one of them could find it. They ride into the Neck, but not back out. And sooner or later they blunder into the bogs and sink beneath the weight of all that steel and drown therein their armor.\"\n\nThe thought of drowned knights under the water gave Bran the shivers. He didn't object, though; he liked the shivers.\n\n\"There was one knight,\" said Meera, \"in the year of the false spring. The Knight of the Laughing Tree, they called him. He might have been a crannogman, that one.\"\n\n\"Or not.\" Jojen's face was dappled with green shadows. \"Prince Bran has heard that tale a hundred times, I'm sure.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No,\" said Bran."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I haven't. And if I have it doesn't matter. Sometimes Old Nan would tell the same story she'd told before, but we never minded, if it was a good story. Old stories are like old friends, she used to say. You have to visit them from time to time.\"\n\n\"That's true.\" Meera walked with her shield on her back, pushing an occasional branch out of the way with her frog spear. Just when Bran began to think that she wasn't going to tell the story after all, she began, \"Once there was a curious lad who lived in the Neck. He was small like all crannogmen, but brave and smart and strong as well. He grew up hunting and fishing and climbing trees, and learned all the magics of my people.\"\n\nBran was almost certain he had never heard this story. \"Did he have green dreams like Jojen?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Meera, \"but he could breathe mud and run on leaves, and change earth to water and water to earth with no more than a whispered word. He could talk to trees and weave words and make castles appear and disappear.\"\n\n\"I wish I could,\" Bran said plaintively. \"When does he meet the tree knight?\"\n\nMeera made a face at him. \"Sooner if a certain prince would be quiet.\"\n\n\"I was just asking.\"\n\n\"The lad knew the magics of the crannogs,\" she continued, \"but he wanted more. Our people seldom travel far from home, you know. We're a small folk, and our ways seem queer to some, so the big people do not always treat us kindly. But this lad was bolder than most, and one day when he had grown to manhood he decided he would leave the crannogs and visit the Isle of Faces.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No one visits the Isle of Faces,\" objected Bran."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That's where the green men live.\"\n\n\"It was the green men he meant to find. So he donned a shirt sewn with bronze scales, like mine, took up a leathern shield and a three-pronged spear, like mine, and paddled a little skin boat down the Green Fork.\"\n\nBran closed his eyes to try and seethe man in his little skin boat. In his head, the crannogman looked like Jojen, only older and stronger and dressed like Meera.\n\n\"He passed beneath the Twins by night so the Freys would not attack him, and when he reached the Trident he climbed from the river and put his boat on his head and began to walk. It took him many a day, but finally he reached the Gods Eye, threw his boat in the lake, and paddled out to the Isle of Faces.\"\n\n\"Did he meet the green men?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Meera, \"but that's another story, and not for me to tell. My prince asked for knights.\"\n\n\"Green men are good too.\"\n\n\"They are,\" she agreed, but said no more about them. \"All that winter the crannogman stayed on the isle, but when the spring broke he heard the wide world calling and knew the time had come to leave. His skin boat was just where he'd left it, so he said his farewells and paddled off toward shore. He rowed and rowed, and finally saw the distant towers of a castle rising beside the lake. The towers reached ever higher as he neared shore, until he realized that this must be the greatest castle in all the world.\"\n\n\"Harrenhal!\" Bran knew at once. \"It was Harrenhal!\"\n\nMeera smiled. \"Was it? Beneath its walls he saw tents of many colors, bright banners cracking in the wind, and knights in mail and plate on barded horses. He smelled roasting meats, and heard the sound of laughter and the blare of heralds' trumpets. A great tourney was about to commence, and champions from allover the land had come to contest it. The king himself was there, with his son the dragon prince. The White Swords had come, to welcome anew brother to their ranks. The storm lord was on hand, and the rose lord as well. The great lion of the rock had quarreled with the king and stayed away, but many of his bannermen and knights attended all the same. The crannogman had never seen such pageantry, and knew he might never seethe like again. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to be part of it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bran knew that feeling well enough. When he'd been little, all he had ever dreamed of was being a knight. But that had been before he fell and lost his legs.\n\n\"The daughter of the great castle reigned as queen of love and beauty when the tourney opened. Five champions had sworn to defend her crown; her four brothers of Harrenhal, and her famous uncle, a white knight of the Kingsguard.\"\n\n\"Was she a fair maid?\"\n\n\"She was,\" said Meera, hopping over a stone, \"but there were others fairer still. One was the wife of the dragon prince, who'd brought a dozen lady companions to attend her. The knights all begged them for favors to tie about their lances.\"\n\n\"This isn't going to be one of those love stories, is it?\" Bran asked suspiciously. \"Hodor doesn't like those so much.\"\n\n\"Hodor,\" said Hodor agreeably.\n\n\"He likes the stories where the knights fight monsters.\"\n\n\"Sometimes the knights are the monsters, Bran. The little crannogman was walking across the field, enjoying the warm spring day and harming none, when he was set upon by three squires. They were none older than fifteen, yet even so they were bigger than him, all three. This was their world, as they saw it, and he had no right to be there. They snatched away his spear and knocked him to the ground, cursing him fora frogeater.\"\n\n\"Were they Walders?\" It sounded like something Little Walder Frey might have done.\n\n\"None offered a name, but he marked their faces well so he could revenge himself upon them later. They shoved him down every time he tried to rise, and kicked him when he curled upon the ground. But then they heard a roar. \"That's my father's man you're kicking, ' howled the she-wolf.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A wolf on four legs, or two?\"\n\n\"Two,\" said Meera. \" The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all. The crannogman was bruised and bloodied, so she took him back to her lair to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen. There he met her pack brothers: the wild wolf who led them, the quiet wolf beside him, and the pup who was youngest of the four.\n\n\"That evening there was to be a feast in Harrenhal, to mark the opening of the tourney, and the she-wolf insisted that the lad attend. He was of high birth, with as much aright to a place on the bench as any other man. She was not easy to refuse, this wolf maid, so he let the young pup find him garb suitable to a king's feast, and went up to the great castle.\n\n\"Under Harren's roof he ate and drank with the wolves, and many of their sworn swords besides, barrowdown men and moose and bears and mermen. The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle, but when her pup brother teased her for crying she poured wine over his head. A black brother spoke, asking the knights to join the Night's Watch. The storm lord drank down the knight of skulls and kisses in a wine-cup war. The crannogman saw a maid with laughing purple eyes dance with a white sword, a red snake, and the lord of griffins, and lastly with the quiet wolf... but only after the wild wolf spoke to heron behalf of a brother too shy to leave his bench.\n\n\"Amidst all this merriment, the little crannogman spied the three squires who'd attacked him. One served a pitchfork knight, one a porcupine, while the last attended a knight with two towers on his surcoat, a sigil all crannogmen know well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The Freys,\" said Bran."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Freys of the Crossing.\"\n\n\"Then, as now,\" she agreed. \"The wolf maid saw them too, and pointed them out to her brothers. \"I could find you a horse, and some armor that might fit,\" the pup offered. The little crannogman thanked him, but gave no answer. His heart was torn. Crannogmen are smaller than most, but just as proud. The lad was no knight, no more than any of his people. We sit a boat more often than a horse, and our hands are made for oars, not lances. Much as he wished to have his vengeance, he feared he would only make a fool of himself and shame his people. The quiet wolf had offered the little crannogman a place in his tent that night, but before he slept he knelt on the lakeshore, looking across the water to where the Isle of Faces would be, and said a prayer to the old gods of north and Neck...\"\n\n\"You never heard this tale from your father?\" asked Jojen.\n\n\"It was Old Nan who told the stories. Meera, goon, you can't stop there.\"\n\nHodor must have felt the same. \"Hodor,\" he said, and then, \"Hodor hodor hodor hodor.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Meera, \"if you would hear the rest...\"\n\n\"Yes. Tell it.\"\n\n\"Five days of jousting were planned,\" she said. \"There was a great seven-sided mêlée as well, and archery and axe-throwing, a horse race and tourney of singers...\"\n\n\"Never mind about all that.\" Bran squirmed impatiently in his basket on Hodor's back. \"Tell about the jousting.\"\n\n\"As my prince commands. The daughter of the castle was the queen of love and beauty, with four brothers and an uncle to defend her, but all four sons of Harrenhal were defeated on the first day. Their conquerors reigned briefly as champions, until they were vanquished in turn. As it happened, the end of the first day saw the porcupine knight win a place among the champions, and on the morning of the second day the pitchfork knight and the knight of the two towers were victorious as well. But late on the afternoon of that second day, as the shadows grew long, a mystery knight appeared in the lists.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bran nodded sagely. Mystery knights would oft appear at tourneys, with helms concealing their faces, and shields that were either blank or bore some strange device. Sometimes they were famous champions in disguise. The Dragonknight once won a tourney as the Knight of Tears, so he could name his sister the queen of love and beauty in place of the king's mistress. And Barristan the Bold twice donned a mystery knight's armor, the first time when he was only ten. \"It was the little crannogman, I bet.\"\n\n\"No one knew,\" said Meera, \"but the mystery knight was short of stature, and clad in ill-fitting armor made up of bits and pieces. The device upon his shield was a heart tree of the old gods, a white weirwood with a laughing red face.\"\n\n\"Maybe he came from the Isle of Faces,\" said Bran. \"Was he green?\" In Old Nan's stories, the guardians had dark green skin and leaves instead of hair. Sometimes they had antlers too, but Bran didn't see how the mystery knight could have worn a helm if he had antlers. \"I bet the old gods sent him.\"\n\n\"Perhaps they did. The mystery knight dipped his lance before the king and rode to the end of the lists, where the five champions had their pavilions. You know the three he challenged.\"\n\n\"The porcupine knight, the pitchfork knight, and the knight of the twin towers.\" Bran had heard enough stories to know that. \"He was the little crannogman, I told you.\"\n\n\"Whoever he was, the old gods gave strength to his arm. The porcupine knight fell first, then the pitchfork knight, and lastly the knight of the two towers. None were well loved, so the common folk cheered lustily for the Knight of the Laughing Tree, as the new champion soon was called. When his fallen foes sought to ransom horse and armor, the Knight of the Laughing Tree spoke in a booming voice through his helm, saying, \"Teach your squires honor, that shall be ransom enough.\" Once the defeated knights chastised their squires sharply, their horses and armor were returned. And so the little crannogman's prayer was answered... by the green men, or the old gods, or the children of the forest, who can say?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was a good story, Bran decided after thinking about it a moment or two. \"Then what happened? Did the Knight of the Laughing Tree win the tourney and marry a princess?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Meera. \"That night at the great castle, the storm lord and the knight of skulls and kisses each swore they would unmask him, and the king himself urged men to challenge him, declaring that the face behind that helm was no friend of his. But the next morning, when the heralds blew their trumpets and the king took his seat, only two champions appeared. The Knight of the Laughing Tree had vanished. The king was wroth, and even sent his son the dragon prince to seek the man, but all they ever found was his painted shield, hanging abandoned in a tree. It was the dragon prince who won that tourney in the end.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Bran thought about the tale awhile. \"That was a good story. But it should have been the three bad knights who hurt him, not their squires. Then the little crannogman could have killed them all. The part about the ransoms was stupid. And the mystery knight should win the tourney, defeating every challenger, and name the wolf maid the queen of love and beauty.\"\n\n\"She was,\" said Meera, \"but that's a sadder story.\"\n\n\"Are you certain you never heard this tale before, Bran?\" asked Jojen. \"Your lord father never told it to you?\"\n\nBran shook his head. The day was growing old by then, and long shadows were creeping down the mountainsides to send black fingers through the pines. If the little crannogman could visit the Isle of Faces, maybe I could too. All the tales agreed that the green men had strange magic powers. Maybe they could help him walk again, even turn him into a knight. They turned the little crannogman into a knight, even if it was only fora day, he thought. A day would be enough."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "DAVOS\n\nThe cell was warmer than any cell had aright to be.\n\nIt was dark, yes. Flickering orange light fell through the ancient iron bars from the torch in the sconce on the wall outside, but the back half of the cell remained drenched in gloom. It was dank as well, as might be expected on an isle such as Dragonstone, where the sea was never far. And there were rats, as many as any dungeon could expect to have and a few more besides.\n\nBut Davos could not complain of chill. The smooth stony passages beneath the great mass of Dragonstone were always warm, and Davos had often heard it said they grew warmer the farther down one went. He was well below the castle, he judged, and the wall of his cell often felt warm to his touch when he pressed a palm against it. Perhaps the old tales were true, and Dragonstone was built with the stones of hell.\n\nHe was sick when they first brought him here. The cough that had plagued him since the battle grew worse, and a fever took hold of him as well. His lips broke with blood blisters, and the warmth of the cell did not stop his shivering. I will not linger long, he remembered thinking. I will die soon, herein the dark.\n\nDavos soon found that he was wrong about that, as about so much else. Dimly he remembered gentle hands and a firm voice, and young Maester Pylos looking down on him. He was given hot garlic broth to drink, and milk of the poppy to takeaway his aches and shivers. The poppy made him sleep and while he slept they leeched him to drain off the bad blood. Or so he surmised, by the leech marks on his arms when he woke. Before very long the coughing stopped, the blisters vanished, and his broth had chunks of whitefish in it, and carrots and onions as well. And one day he realized that he felt stronger than he had since Black Betha shattered beneath him and flung him in the river."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had two gaolers to tend him. One was broad and squat, with thick shoulders and huge strong hands. He wore a leather brigantine dotted with iron studs, and once a day brought Davos a bowl of oaten porridge. Sometimes he sweetened it with honey or poured in a bit of milk. The other gaoler was older, stooped and sallow, with greasy unwashed hair and pebbled skin. He wore a doublet of white velvet with a ring of stars worked upon the breast in golden thread. It fit him badly, being both too short and too loose, and was soiled and torn besides. He would bring Davos plates of meat and mash, or fish stew, and once even half a lamprey pie. The lamprey was so rich he could not keep it down, but even so, it was a rare treat fora prisoner in a dungeon.\n\nNeither sun nor moon shone in the dungeons; no windows pierced the thick stonewalls. The only way to tell day from night was by his gaolers. Neither man would speak to him, though he knew they were no mutes; sometimes he heard them exchange a few brusque words as the watch was changing. They would not even tell him their names, so he gave them names of his own. The short strong one he called Porridge, the stooped sallow one Lamprey, for the pie. He marked the passage of days by the meals they brought, and by the changing of the torches in the sconce outside his cell.\n\nA man grows lonely in the dark, and hungers for the sound of a human voice. Davos would talk to the gaolers whenever they came to his cell, whether to bring him food or change his slops pail. He knew they would be deaf to pleas for freedom or mercy; instead he asked them questions, hoping perhaps one day one might answer. \"What news of the war?\" he asked, and'Is the king well?\" He asked after his son Devan, and the Princess Shireen, and Salladhor Saan. \"What is the weather like?\" he asked, and'Have the autumn storms begun yet? Do ships still sail the narrow sea?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It made no matter what he asked; they never answered, though sometimes Porridge gave him a look, and for half a heartbeat Davos would think that he was about to speak. With Lamprey there was not even that much. I am not a man to him, Davos thought, only a stone that eats and shits and speaks. He decided after awhile that he liked Porridge much the better. Porridge at least seemed to know he was alive, and there was a queer sort of kindness to the man. Davos suspected that he fed the rats; that was why there were so many. Once he thought he heard the gaoler talking to them as if they were children, but perhaps he'd only dreamed that.\n\nThey do not mean to let me die, he realized. They are keeping me alive, for some purpose of their own. He did not like to think what that might be. Lord Sunglass had been confined in the cells beneath Dragonstone fora time, as had Ser Hubard Rambton's sons; all of them had ended on the pyre. I should have given myself to the sea, Davos thought as he sat staring at the torch beyond the bars. Or let the sail pass me by, to perish on my rock. I would sooner feed crabs than flames.\n\nThen one night as he was finishing his supper, Davos felt a queer flush come over him. He glanced up through the bars, and there she stood in shimmering scarlet with her great ruby at her throat, her red eyes gleaming as bright as the torch that bathed her. \"Melisandre,\" he said, with a calm he did not feel.\n\n\"Onion Knight,\" she replied, just as calmly, as if the two of them had met on a stair or in the yard, and were exchanging polite greetings. \"Are you well?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Better than I was.\"\n\n\"Do you lack for anything?\"\n\n\"My king. My son. I lack for them.\" He pushed the bowl aside and stood. \"Have you come to burn me?\"\n\nHer strange red eyes studied him through the bars. \"This is a bad place, is it not? A dark place, and foul. The good sun does not shine here, nor the bright moon.\" She lifted a hand toward the torch in the wall sconce. \"This is all that stands between you and the darkness, Onion Knight. This little fire, this gift of R'hllor. Shall I put it out?\"\n\n\"No.\" He moved toward the bars. \"Please.\" He did not think he could bear that, to be left alone in utter blackness with no one but the rats for company.\n\nThe red woman's lips curved upward in a smile. \"So you have come to love the fire, it would seem.\"\n\n\"I need the torch.\" His hands opened and closed. I will not beg her. I will not.\n\n\"I am like this torch, Ser Davos. We are both instruments of R'hllor. We were made fora single purpose-to keep the darkness at bay. Do you believe that?\"\n\n\"No.\" Perhaps he should have lied, and told her what she wanted to hear, but Davos was too accustomed to speaking truth. \"You are the mother of darkness. I saw that under Storm's End, when you gave birth before my eyes.\"\n\n\"Is the brave Ser Onions so frightened of a passing shadow? Take heart, then. Shadows only live when given birth by light, and the king's fires burn so low I dare not draw off anymore to make another son. It might well kill him.\" Melisandre moved closer. \"With another man, though... a man whose flames still burn hot and high... if you truly wish to serve your king's cause, come to my chamber one night. I could give you pleasure such as you have never known, and with your life-fire I could make...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"..."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "a horror.\" Davos retreated from her. \"I want no part of you, my lady. Or your god. May the Seven protect me.\"\n\nMelisandre sighed. \"They did not protect Guncer Sunglass. He prayed thrice each day, and bore seven seven-pointed stars upon his shield, but when R'hllor reached out his hand his prayers turned to screams, and he burned. Why cling to these false gods?\"\n\n\"I have worshiped them all my life.\"\n\n\"All your life, Davos Seaworth? As well say it was so yesterday.\" She shook her head sadly. \"You have never feared to speak the truth to kings, why do you lie to yourself? Open your eyes, ser knight.\"\n\n\"What is it you would have me see?\"\n\n\"The way the world is made. The truth is all around you, plain to behold. The night is dark and full of terrors, the day bright and beautiful and full of hope. One is black, the other white. There is ice and there is fire. Hate and love. Bitter and sweet. Male and female. Pain and pleasure. Winter and summer. Evil and good.\" She took a step toward him. \"Death and life. Everywhere, opposites. Everywhere, the war.\"\n\n\"The war?\" asked Davos.\n\n\"The war,\" she affirmed. \"There are two, Onion Knight. Not seven, not one, not a hundred or a thousand. Two! Do you think I crossed half the world to put yet another vain king on yet another empty throne? The war has been waged since time began, and before it is done, all men must choose where they will stand. On one side is R'hllor, the Lord of Light, the Heart of Fire, the God of Flame and Shadow. Against him stands the Great Other whose name may not bespoken, the Lord of Darkness, the Soul of Ice, the God of Night and Terror. Ours is not a choice between Baratheon and Lannister, between Greyjoy and Stark. It is death we choose, or life. Darkness, or light.\" She clasped the bars of his cell with her slender white hands. The great ruby at her throat seemed to pulse with its own radiance. \"So tell me, Ser Davos Seaworth, and tell me truly-does your heartburn with the shining light of R'hllor? Or is it black and cold and full of worms?\" She reached through the bars and laid three fingers upon his breast, as if to feel the truth of him through flesh and wool and leather."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My heart,\" Davos said slowly, \"is full of doubts.\"\n\nMelisandre sighed. \"Ahhhh, Davos. The good knight is honest to the last, even in his day of darkness. It is well you did not lie tome. I would have known. The Other's servants oft hide black hearts in gaudy light, so R'hllor gives his priests the power to see through falsehoods.\" She stepped lightly away from the cell. \"Why did you mean to kill me?\"\n\n\"I will tell you,\" said Davos, \"if you will tell me who betrayed me.\" It could only have been Salladhor Saan, and yet even now he prayed it was not so.\n\nThe red woman laughed. \"No one betrayed you, onion knight. I saw your purpose in my flames.\"\n\nThe flames. \"If you can seethe future in these flames, how is it that we burned upon the Blackwater? You gave my sons to the fire... my sons, my ship, my men, all burning...\"\n\nMelisandre shook her head. \"You wrong me, onion knight. Those were no fires of mine. Had I been with you, your battle would have had a different ending. But His Grace was surrounded by unbelievers, and his pride proved stronger than his faith. His punishment was grievous, but he has learned from his mistake.\"\n\nWere my sons no more than a lesson fora king, then? Davos felt his mouth tighten.\n\n\"It is night in your Seven Kingdoms now,\" the red woman went on, \"but soon the sun will rise again. The war continues, Davos Seaworth, and some will soon learn that even an ember in the ashes can still ignite a great blaze. The old maester looked at Stannis and saw only a man. You see a king. You are both wrong. He is the Lord's chosen, the warrior of fire. I have seen him leading the fight against the dark, I have seen it in the flames. The flames do not lie, else you would not be here. It is written in prophecy as well. When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. The bleeding star has come and gone, and Dragonstone is the place of smoke and salt. Stannis Baratheon is Azor Ahai reborn!\" Her red eyes blazed like twin fires, and seemed to stare deep into his soul. \"You do not believe me. You doubt the truth of R'hllor even now... yet have served him all the same, and will serve him again. I shall leave you hereto think on all that I have told you. And because R'hllor is the source of all good, I shall leave the torch as well.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 27"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My heart,\" Davos said slowly, \"is full of doubts.\"\n\nMelisandre sighed. \"Ahhhh, Davos. The good knight is honest to the last, even in his day of darkness. It is well you did not lie tome. I would have known. The Other's servants oft hide black hearts in gaudy light, so R'hllor gives his priests the power to see through falsehoods.\" She stepped lightly away from the cell. \"Why did you mean to kill me?\"\n\n\"I will tell you,\" said Davos, \"if you will tell me who betrayed me.\" It could only have been Salladhor Saan, and yet even now he prayed it was not so.\n\nThe red woman laughed. \"No one betrayed you, onion knight. I saw your purpose in my flames.\"\n\nThe flames. \"If you can seethe future in these flames, how is it that we burned upon the Blackwater? You gave my sons to the fire... my sons, my ship, my men, all burning...\"\n\nMelisandre shook her head. \"You wrong me, onion knight. Those were no fires of mine. Had I been with you, your battle would have had a different ending. But His Grace was surrounded by unbelievers, and his pride proved stronger than his faith. His punishment was grievous, but he has learned from his mistake.\"\n\nWere my sons no more than a lesson fora king, then? Davos felt his mouth tighten.\n\n\"It is night in your Seven Kingdoms now,\" the red woman went on, \"but soon the sun will rise again. The war continues, Davos Seaworth, and some will soon learn that even an ember in the ashes can still ignite a great blaze. The old maester looked at Stannis and saw only a man. You see a king. You are both wrong. He is the Lord's chosen, the warrior of fire. I have seen him leading the fight against the dark, I have seen it in the flames. The flames do not lie, else you would not be here. It is written in prophecy as well. When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. The bleeding star has come and gone, and Dragonstone is the place of smoke and salt. Stannis Baratheon is Azor Ahai reborn!\" Her red eyes blazed like twin fires, and seemed to stare deep into his soul. \"You do not believe me. You doubt the truth of R'hllor even now... yet have served him all the same, and will serve him again. I shall leave you hereto think on all that I have told you. And because R'hllor is the source of all good, I shall leave the torch as well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With a smile and swirl of scarlet skirts, she was gone. Only her scent lingered after. That, and the torch. Davos lowered himself to the floor of the cell and wrapped his arms about his knees. The shifting torchlight washed over him. Once Melisandre's footsteps faded away, the only sound was the scrabbling of rats. Ice and fire, he thought. Black and white. Dark and light. Davos could not deny the power of her god. He had seen the shadow crawling from Melisandre's womb, and the priestess knew things she had noway of knowing. She saw my purpose in her flames. It was good to learn that Salla had not sold him, but the thought of the red woman spying out his secrets with her fires disquieted him more than he could say. And what did she mean when she said that I had served her god and would serve him again? He did not like that either.\n\nHe lifted his eyes to stare up at the torch. He looked fora longtime, never blinking, watching the flames shift and shimmer. He tried to see beyond them, to peer through the fiery curtain and glimpse whatever lived back there... but there was nothing, only fire, and after a time his eyes began to water.\n\nGod-blind and tired, Davos curled upon the straw and gave himself to sleep.\n\nThree days later-well, Porridge had come thrice, and Lamprey twice-Davos heard voices outside his cell. He sat up at once, his back to the stonewall, listening to the sounds of struggle. This was new, a change in his unchanging world. The noise was coming from the left, where the steps led up to daylight. He could hear a man's voice, pleading and shouting.\n\n\"... madness!\" the man was saying as he came into view, dragged along between two guardsmen with fiery hearts on their breasts. Porridge went before them, jangling a ring of keys, and Ser Axell Florent walked behind. \"Axell,\" the prisoner said desperately, \"for the love you bear me, unhand me! You cannot do this, I'm no traitor.\" He was an older man, tall and slender, with silvery grey hair, a pointed beard, and along elegant face twisted in fear. \"Where is Selyse, where is the queen? I demand to see her. The Others take you all! Release me!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The guards paid no mind to his outcries."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Here?\" Porridge asked in front of the cell. Davos got to his feet. For an instant he considered trying to rush them when the door was opened, but that was madness. There were too many, the guards wore swords, and Porridge was strong as a bull.\n\nSer Axell gave the gaoler a curt nod. \"Let the traitors enjoy each other's company.\"\n\n\"I am no traitor!\" screeched the prisoner as Porridge was unlocking the door. Though he was plainly dressed, in grey wool doublet and black breeches, his speech marked him as highborn. His birth will not serve him here, thought Davos.\n\nPorridge swung the bars wide, Ser Axell gave a nod, and the guards flung their charge in headlong. The man stumbled and might have fallen, but Davos caught him. At once he wrenched away and staggered back toward the door, only to have it slammed in his pale, pampered face. \"No,\" he shouted. \"Nooooo.\" All the strength suddenly left his legs, and he slid slowly to the floor, clutching at the iron bars. Ser Axell, Porridge, and the guards had already turned to leave. \"You cannot do this,\" the prisoner shouted at their retreating backs. \"I am the King's Hand!\"\n\nIt was then that Davos knew him. \"You are Alester Florent.\"\n\nThe man turned his head. \"Who...?\"\n\n\"Ser Davos Seaworth.\"\n\nLord Alester blinked. \"Seaworth... the onion knight. You tried to murder Melisandre.\"\n\nDavos did not deny it. \"At Storm's End you wore red-gold armor, with inlaid lapis flowers on your breastplate.\" He reached down a hand to help the other man to his feet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lord Alester brushed the filthy straw from his clothing."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I... I must apologize for my appearance, ser. My chests were lost when the Lannisters overran our camp. I escaped with no more than the mail on my back and the rings on my fingers.\"\n\nHe still wears those rings, noted Davos, who had lacked even all of his fingers.\n\n\"No doubt some cook's boy or groom is prancing around King's Landing just now in my slashed velvet doublet and jeweled cloak,\" Lord Alester went on, oblivious. \"But war has its horrors, as all men know. No doubt you suffered your own losses.\"\n\n\"My ship,\" said Davos. \"All my men. Four of my sons.\"\n\n\"May the... may the Lord of Light lead them through the darkness to a better world,\" the other man said.\n\nMay the Father judge them justly, and the Mother grant them mercy, Davos thought, but he kept his prayer to himself. The Seven had no place on Dragonstone now.\n\n\"My own son is safe at Brightwater,\" the lord went on, \"but I lost a nephew on the Fury. Ser Imry, my brother Ryam's son.\"\n\nIt had been Ser Imry Florent who led them blindly up the Blackwater Rush with all oars pulling, paying no heed to the small stone towers at the mouth of the river. Davos was not like to forget him. \"My son Maric was your nephew's oarmaster.\" He remembered his last sight of Fury, engulfed in wildfire. \"Has there been any word of survivors?\"\n\n\"The Fury burned and sank with all hands,\" his lordship said. \"Your son and my nephew were lost, with countless other good men. The war itself was lost that day, ser.\"\n\nThis man is defeated. Davos remembered Melisandre's talk of embers in the ashes igniting great blazes. Small wonder he ended here. \"His Grace will never yield, my lord.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Folly, that's folly.\" Lord Alester sat on the floor again, as if the effort of standing fora moment had been too much for him. \"Stannis Baratheon will never sit the Iron Throne. Is it treason to say the truth? A bitter truth, but no less true for that. His fleet is gone, save for the Lyseni, and Salladhor Saan will flee at the first sight of a Lannister sail. Most of the lords who supported Stannis have gone over to Joffrey or died...\"\n\n\"Even the lords of the narrow sea? The lords sworn to Dragonstone?\"\n\nLord Alester waved his hand feebly. \"Lord Celtigar was captured and bent the knee. Monford Velaryon died with his ship, the red woman burned Sunglass, and Lord Bar Emmon is fifteen, fat, and feeble. Those are your lords of the narrow sea. Only the strength of House Florent is left to Stannis, against all the might of Highgarden, Sunspear, and Casterly Rock, and now most of the storm lords as well. The best hope that remains is to try and salvage something with a peace. That is all I meant to do. Gods be good, how can they call it treason?\"\n\nDavos stood frowning. \"My lord, what did you do?\"\n\n\"Not treason. Never treason. I love His Grace as much as any man. My own niece is his queen, and I remained loyal to him when wiser men fled. I am his Hand, the Hand of the King, how can I be a traitor? I only meant to save our lives, and... honor... yes.\" He licked his lips. \"I penned a letter. Salladhor Saan swore that he had a man who could get it to King's Landing, to Lord Tywin. His lordship is a... a man of reason, and my terms... the terms were fair... more than fair.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What terms were these, my lord?\"\n\n\"It is filthy here,\" Lord Alester said suddenly. \"And that odor... what is that odor?\"\n\n\"The pail,\" said Davos, gesturing. \"We have no privy here. What terms?\"\n\nHis lordship stared at the pail in horror. \"That Lord Stannis give up his claim to the Iron Throne and retract all he said of Joffrey's bastardy, on the condition that he be accepted back into the king's peace and confirmed as Lord of Dragonstone and Storm's End. I vowed to do the same, for the return of Brightwater Keep and all our lands. I thought... Lord Tywin would seethe sense in my proposal. He still has the Starks to deal with, and the ironmen as well. I offered to seal the bargain by wedding Shireen to Joffrey's brother Tommen.\" He shook his head. \"The terms... they areas good as we are ever like to get. Even you can see that, surely?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Davos, \"even me.\" Unless Stannis should father a son, such a marriage would mean that Dragonstone and Storm's End would one day pass to Tommen, which would doubtless please Lord Tywin. Meanwhile, the Lannisters would have Shireen as hostage to make certain Stannis raised no new rebellions. \"And what did His Grace say when you proposed these terms to him?\"\n\n\"He is always with the red woman, and... he is not in his right mind, I fear. This talk of a stone dragon... madness, I tell you, sheer madness. Did we learn nothing from Aerion Brightfire, from the nine mages, from the alchemists? Did we learn nothing from Summerhall? No good has ever come from these dreams of dragons, I told Axell as much. My way was better. Surer. And Stannis gave me his seal, he gave me leave to rule. The Hand speaks with the king's voice.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Not in this.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Davos was no courtier, and he did not even try to blunt his words. \"It is not in Stannis to yield, so long as he knows his claim is just. No more than he can unsay his words against Joffrey, when he believes them true. As for the marriage, Tommen was born of the same incest as Joffrey, and His Grace would sooner see Shireen dead than wed to such.\"\n\nA vein throbbed in Florent's forehead. \"He has no choice.\"\n\n\"You are wrong, my lord. He can choose to die a king.\"\n\n\"And us with him? Is that what you desire, Onion Knight?\"\n\n\"No. But I am the king's man, and I will make no peace without his leave.\"\n\nLord Alester stared at him helplessly fora long moment, and then began to weep."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JON\n\nThe last night fell black and moonless, but for once the sky was clear. \"I am going up the hill to look for Ghost,\" he told the Thenns at the cave mouth, and they grunted and let him pass.\n\nSo many stars, he thought as he trudged up the slope through pines and firs and ash. Maester Luwin had taught him his stars as a boy in Winterfell; he had learned the names of the twelve houses of heaven and the rulers of each; he could find the seven wanderers sacred to the Faith; he was old friends with the Ice Dragon, the Shadowcat, the Moonmaid, and the Sword of the Morning. All those he shared with Ygritte, but not some of the others. We lookup at the same stars, and see such different things. The King's Crown was the Cradle, to hear her tell it; the Stallion was the Horned Lord; the red wanderer that septons preached was sacred to their Smith up here was called the Thief. And when the Thief was in the Moonmaid, that was a propitious time fora man to steal a woman, Ygritte insisted. \"Like the night you stole me. The Thief was bright that night.\"\n\n\"I never meant to steal you,\" he said. \"I never knew you were a girl until my knife was at your throat.\"\n\n\"If you kill a man, and never mean t\", he's just as dead,\" Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? He had never truly been a Stark, only Lord Eddard's motherless bastard, with no more place at Winterfell than Theon Greyjoy. And even that he'd lost. When a man of the Night's Watch said his words, he put aside his old family and joined anew one, but Jon Snow had lost those brothers too."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He found Ghost atop the hill, as he thought he might."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The white wolf never howled, yet something drew him to the heights all the same, and he would squat thereon his hindquarters, hot breath rising in a white mist as his red eyes drank the stars.\n\n\"Do you have names for them as well?\" Jon asked, as he went to one knee beside the direwolf and scratched the thick white fur on his neck. \"The Hare? The Doe? The She-Wolf?\" Ghost licked his face, his rough wet tongue rasping against the scabs where the eagle's talons had ripped Jon's cheek. The bird marked both of us, he thought. \"Ghost,\" he said quietly, \"on the morrow we go over. There's no steps here, no cage-and-crane, noway for me to get you to the other side. We have to part. Do you understand?\"\n\nIn the dark, the direwolf's red eyes looked black. He nuzzled at Jon's neck, silent as ever, his breath a hot mist. The wildlings called Jon Snow a warg, but if so he was a poor one. He did not know how to put on a wolf skin, the way Orell had with his eagle before he'd died. Once Jon had dreamed that he was Ghost, looking down upon the valley of the Milkwater where Mance Rayder had gathered his people, and that dream had turned out to be true. But he was not dreaming now, and that left him only words.\n\n\"You cannot come with me,\" Jon said, cupping the wolf's head in his hands and looking deep into those eyes. \"You have to go to Castle Black. Do you understand? Castle Black. Can you find it? The way home? Just follow the ice, east and east, into the sun, and you'll find it. They will know you at Castle Black, and maybe your coming will warn them.\" He had thought of writing out a warning for Ghost to carry, but he had no ink, no parchment, not even a writing quill, and the risk of discovery was too great. \"I will meet you again at Castle Black, but you have to get thereby yourself. We must each hunt alone fora time. Alone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The direwolf twisted free of Jon's grasp, his ears pricked up."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And suddenly he was bounding away. He loped through a tangle of brush, leapt a deadfall, and raced down the hillside, a pale streak among the trees. Off to Castle Black? Jon wondered. Or off after a hare? He wished he knew. He feared he might prove just as poor a warg as a sworn brother and a spy.\n\nA wind sighed through the trees, rich with the smell of pine needles, tugging at his faded blacks. Jon could seethe Wall looming high and dark to the south, a great shadow blocking out the stars. The rough hilly ground made him think they must be somewhere between the Shadow Tower and Castle Black, and likely closer to the former. For days they had been wending their way south between deep lakes that stretched like long thin fingers along the floors of narrow valleys, while flint ridges and pine-clad hills jostled against one another to either side. Such ground made for slow riding, but offered easy concealment for those wishing to approach the Wall unseen.\n\nFor wildling raiders, he thought. Like us. Like me.\n\nBeyond that Wall lay the Seven Kingdoms, and everything he had sworn to protect. He had said the words, had pledged his life and honor, and by rights he should be up there standing sentry. He should be raising a horn to his lips to rouse the Night's Watch to arms. He had no horn, though. It would not be hard to steal one from the wildlings, he suspected, but what would that accomplish? Even if he blew it, there was no one to hear. The Wall was a hundred leagues long and the Watch sadly dwindled. All but three of the strongholds had been abandoned; there might not be a brother within forty miles of here, but for Jon. If he was a brother still..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I should have tried to kill Mance Rayder on the Fist, even if it meant my life. That was what Qhorin Halfhand would have done. But Jon had hesitated, and the chance passed. The next day he had ridden off with Styr the Magnar, Jarl, and more than a hundred picked Thenns and raiders. He told himself that he was only biding his time, that when the moment came he would slip away and ride for Castle Black. The moment never came. They rested most nights in empty wildling villages, and Styr always set a dozen of his Thenns to guard the horses. Jarl watched him suspiciously. And Ygritte was never far, day or night.\n\nTwo hearts that beat as one. Mance Rayder's mocking words rang bitter in his head. Jon had seldom felt so confused. I have no choice, he'd told himself the first time, when she slipped beneath his sleeping skins. If I refuse her, she will know me fora turncloak. I am playing the part the Halfhand told me to play.\n\nHis body had played the part eagerly enough. His lips on hers, his hand sliding under her doeskin shirt to find abreast, his manhood stiffening when she rubbed her mound against it through their clothes. My vows, he'd thought, remembering the weirwood grove where he had said them, the nine great white trees in a circle, the carved red faces watching, listening. But her fingers were undoing his laces and her tongue was in his mouth and her hand slipped inside his smallclothes and brought him out, and he could not seethe weirwoods anymore, only her. She bit his neck and he nuzzled hers, burying his nose in her thick red hair. Lucky, he thought, she is lucky, fire-kissed. \"Isn't that good?\" she whispered as she guided him inside her. She was sopping wet down there, and no maiden, that was plain, but Jon did not care. His vows, her maidenhood, none of it mattered, only the heat of her, the mouth on his, the finger that pinched at his nipple. \"Isn't that sweet?\" she said again. \"Not so fast, oh, slow, yes, like that. There now, there now, yes, sweet, sweet. You know nothing, Jon Snow, but I can show you. Harder now. Yessss.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Apart, he tried to remind himself afterward. I am playing apart. I had to do it once, to prove I'd abandoned my vows. I had to make her trust me. It need never happen again. He was still a man of the Night's Watch, and a son of Eddard Stark. He had done what needed to be done, proved what needed to be proven.\n\nThe proving had been so sweet, though, and Ygritte had gone to sleep beside him with her head against his chest, and that was sweet as well, dangerously sweet. He thought of the weirwoods again, and the words he'd said before them. It was only once, and it had to be. Even my father stumbled once, when he forgot his marriage vows and sired a bastard. Jon vowed to himself that it would be the same with him. It will never happen again.\n\nIt happened twice more that night, and again in the morning, when she woke to find him hard. The wildlings were stirring by then, and several could not help but notice what was going on beneath the pile of furs. Jarl told them to be quick about it, before he had to throw a pail of water over them. Like a pair of rutting dogs, Jon thought afterward. Was that what he'd become? I am a man of the Night's Watch, a small voice inside insisted, but every night it seemed a little fainter, and when Ygritte kissed his ears orbit his neck, he could not hear it at all. Was this how it was for my father? he wondered. Was he as weak as I am, when he dishonored himself in my mother's bed?\n\nSomething was coming up the hill behind him, he realized suddenly. For half a heartbeat he thought it might be Ghost comeback, but the direwolf never made so much noise. Jon drew Longclaw in a single smooth motion, but it was only one of the Thenns, abroad man in a bronze helm. \"Snow,\" the intruder said. \"Come. Magnar wants.\" The men of Thenn spoke the Old Tongue, and most had only a few words of the Common."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon did not much care what the Magnar wanted, but there was no use arguing with someone who could scarcely understand him, so he followed the man back down the hill.\n\nThe mouth of the cave was a cleft in the rock barely wide enough fora horse, half concealed behind a soldier pine. It opened to the north, so the glows of the fires within would not be visible from the Wall. Even if by some mischance a patrol should happen to pass atop the Wall tonight, they would see nothing but hills and pines and the icy sheen of starlight on a half-frozen lake. Mance Rayder had planned his thrust well.\n\nWithin the rock, the passage descended twenty feet before it opened out onto a space as large as Winterfell's Great Hall. Cookfires burned amongst the columns, their smoke rising to blacken the stony ceiling. The horses had been hobbled along one wall, beside a shallow pool. A sinkhole in the center of the floor opened on what might have been an even greater cavern below, though the darkness made it hard to tell. Jon could hear the soft rushing sound of an underground stream somewhere below as well.\n\nJarl was with the Magnar; Mance had given them the joint command. Styr was none too pleased by that, Jon had noted early on. Mance Rayder had called the dark youth a'pet\" of Val, who was sister to Dalla, his own queen, which made Jarl a sort of good brother once removed to the King-beyond-the-Wall. The Magnar plainly resented sharing his authority. He had brought a hundred Thenns, five times as many men as Jarl, and often acted as if he had the sole command. But it would be the younger man who got them over the ice, Jon knew. Though he could not have been older than twenty, Jarl had been raiding for eight years, and had gone over the Wall a dozen times with the likes of Alfyn Crowkiller and the Weeper, and more recently with his own band."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Magnar was direct."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Jarl has warned me of crows, patrolling on high. Tell me all you know of these patrols.\"\n\nTell me, Jon noted, not tell us, though Jarl stood right beside him. He would have liked nothing better than to refuse the brusque demand, but he knew Styr would put him to death at the slightest disloyalty, and Ygritte as well, for the crime of being his. \"There are four men in each patrol, two rangers and two builders,\" he said. \"The builders are supposed to make note of cracks, melting, and other structural problems, while the rangers look for signs of foes. They ride mules.\"\n\n\"Mules?\" The earless man frowned. \"Mules are slow.\"\n\n\"Slow, but more surefooted on the ice. The patrols often ride atop the Wall, and aside from Castle Black, the paths up there have not been graveled for long years. The mules are bred at Eastwatch, and specially trained to their duty.\"\n\n\"They often ride atop the Wall? Not always?\"\n\n\"No. One patrol in four follows the base instead, to search for cracks in the foundation ice or signs of tunneling.\"\n\nThe Magnar nodded. \"Even in far Thenn we know the tale of Arson Iceaxe and his tunnel.\"\n\nJon knew the tale as well. Arson Iceaxe had been halfway through the Wall when his tunnel was found by rangers from the Nightfort. They did not trouble to disturb him at his digging, only sealed the way behind with ice and stone and snow. Dolorous Edd used to say that if you pressed your ear flat to the Wall, you could still hear Arson chipping away with his axe.\n\n\"When do these patrols go out? How often?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jon shrugged."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It changes. I've heard that Lord Commander Qorgyle used to send them out every third day from Castle Black to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, and every second day from Castle Black to the Shadow Tower. The Watch had more men in his day, though. Lord Commander Mormont prefers to vary the number of patrols and the days of their departure, to make it more difficult for anyone to know their comings and goings. And sometimes the Old Bear will even send a larger force to one of the abandoned castles fora fortnight or a moon's turn.\" His uncle had originated that tactic, Jon knew. Anything to make the enemy unsure.\n\n\"Is Stonedoor manned at present?\" asked Jarl. \"Greyguard?\"\n\nSo we're between those two, are we? Jon kept his face carefully blank. \"Only Eastwatch, Castle Black, and the Shadow Tower were manned when I left the Wall. I can't speak to what Bowen Marsh or Ser Denys might have done since.\"\n\n\"How many crows remain within the castles?\" asked Styr.\n\n\"Five hundred at Castle Black. Two hundred at Shadow Tower, perhaps three hundred at Eastwatch.\" Jon added three hundred men to the count. If only it were that easy...\n\nJarl was not fooled, however. \"He's lying,\" he told Styr. \"Or else including those they lost on the Fist.\"\n\n\"Crow,\" the Magnar warned, \"do not take me for Mance Rayder. If you lie tome, I will have your tongue.\"\n\n\"I'm no crow, and won't be called a liar.\" Jon flexed the fingers of his sword hand.\n\nThe Magnar of Thenn studied Jon with his chilly grey eyes. \"We shall learn their numbers soon enough,\" he said after a moment. \"Go. I will send for you if I have further questions.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon bowed his head stiffly, and went. If all the wildlings were like Styr, it would be easier to betray them. The Thenns were not like other free folk, though. The Magnar claimed to be the last of the First Men, and ruled with an iron hand. His little land of Thenn was a high mountain valley hidden amongst the northernmost peaks of the Frostfangs, surrounded by cave dwellers, Hornfoot men, giants, and the cannibal clans of the ice rivers. Ygritte said the Thenns were savage fighters, and that their Magnar was a god to them. Jon could believe that. Unlike Jarl and Harma and Rattleshirt, Styr commanded absolute obedience from his men, and that discipline was no doubt part of why Mance had chosen him to go over the Wall.\n\nHe walked past the Thenns, sitting atop their rounded bronze helms about their cookfires. Where did Ygrette get herself to? He found her gear and his together, but no sign of the girl herself. \"She took a torch and went off that way,\" Grigg the Goat told him, pointing toward the back of the cavern.\n\nJon followed his finger, and found himself in a dim backroom wandering through amaze of columns and stalactites. She can't be here, he was thinking, when he heard her laugh. He turned toward the sound, but within ten paces he was in a dead end, facing a blank wall of rose and white flowstone. Baffled, he made his way back the way he'd come, and then he saw it: a dark hole under an outthrust of wet stone. He knelt, listened, heard the faint sound of water. \"Ygritte?\"\n\n\"Inhere,\" her voice came back, echoing faintly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon had to crawl a dozen paces before the cave opened up around him. When he stood again, it took his eyes a moment to adjust. Ygritte had brought a torch, but there was no other light. She stood beside a little waterfall that fell from a cleft in the rock down into a wide dark pool. The orange and yellow flames shone against the pale green water.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" he asked her.\n\n\"I heard water. I wanted t'see how deep the cave went.\" She pointed with the torch. \"There's a passage goes down further. I followed it a hundred paces before I turned back.\"\n\n\"A dead end?\"\n\n\"You know nothing, Jon Snow. It went on and on and on. There are hundreds o'caves in these hills, and down deep they all connect. There's even away under your Wall. Gorne's Way.\"\n\n\"Gorne,\" said Jon. \"Gorne was King-beyond-the-Wall.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Ygritte. \"Together with his brother Gendel, three thousand years ago. They led a host o'free folk through the caves, and the Watch was none the wiser. But when they come out, the wolves o\" Winterfell fell upon them.\"\n\n\"There was a battle,\" Jon recalled. \"Gorne slew the King in the North, but his son picked up his banner and took the crown from his head, and cut down Gorne in turn.\"\n\n\"And the sound o' swords woke the crows in their castles, and they rode out all in black to take the free folk in the rear.\"\n\n\"Yes. Gendel had the king to the south, the Umbers to the east, and the Watch to the north of him. He died as well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You know nothing, Jon Snow."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gendel did not die. He cut his way free, through the crows, and led his people back north with the wolves howling at their heels. Only Gendel did not know the caves as Gorne had, and took a wrong turn.\" She swept the torch back and forth, so the shadows jumped and moved. \"Deeper he went, and deeper, and when he tried t'turn back the ways that seemed familiar ended in stone rather than sky. Soon his torches began t\" fail, one by one, till finally there was naught but dark. Gendel's folk were never seen again, but on a still night you can hear their children's children's children sobbing under the hills, still looking for the way backup. Listen? Do you hear them?\"\n\nAll Jon could hear was the falling water and the faint crackle of flames. \"This way under the Wall was lost as well?\"\n\n\"Some have searched for it. Them that go too deep find Gendel's children, and Gendel's children are always hungry.\" Smiling, she set the torch carefully in a notch of rock, and came toward him. \"There's naught to eat in the dark but flesh,\" she whispered, biting at his neck.\n\nJon nuzzled her hair and filled his nose with the smell of her. \"You sound like Old Nan, telling Bran a monster story.\"\n\nYgritte punched his shoulder. \"An old woman, am I?\"\n\n\"You're older than me.\"\n\n\"Aye, and wiser. You know nothing, Jon Snow.\" She pushed away from him, and shrugged out of her rabbitskin vest.\n\n\"What are you doing?\"\n\n\"Showing you how old I am.\" She unlaced her doeskin shirt, tossed it aside, pulled her three woolen undershirts up over her head all at once. \"I want you should see me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We shouldn't-\"\n\n\"We should.\" Her breasts bounced as she stood on one leg to pull one boot, then hopped onto her other foot to attend to the other. Her nipples were wide pink circles. \"You as well,\" Ygritte said as she yanked down her sheepskin breeches. \"If you want to look you have to show. You know nothing, Jon Snow.\"\n\n\"I know I want you,\" he heard himself say, all his vows and all his honor forgotten. She stood before him naked as her name day, and he was as hard as the rock around them. He had been in her half a hundred times by now, but always beneath the furs, with others all around them. He had never seen how beautiful she was. Her legs were skinny but well muscled, the hair at the juncture of her thighs a brighter red than that on her head. Does that make it even luckier? He pulled her close. \"I love the smell of you,\" he said. \"I love your red hair. I love your mouth, and the way you kiss me. I love your smile. I love your teats.\" He kissed them, one and then the other. \"I love your skinny legs, and what's between them.\" He knelt to kiss her there, lightly on her mound at first, but Ygritte moved her legs apart a little, and he saw the pink inside and kissed that as well, and tasted her. She gave a little gasp. \"If you love me all so much, why are you still dressed?\" she whispered. \"You know nothing, Jon Snow. Noth-oh. Oh. OHHH.\"\n\nAfterward, she was almost shy, or as shy as Ygritte ever got. \"That thing you did,\" she said, when they lay together on their piled clothes. \"With your... mouth.\" She hesitated. \"Is that... is it what lords do to their ladies, down in the south?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't think so.\" No one had ever told Jon just what lords did with their ladies. \"I only... wanted to kiss you there, that's all. You seemed to like it.\"\n\n\"Aye. I... I liked it some. No one taught you such?\"\n\n\"There's been no one,\" he confessed. \"Only you.\"\n\n\"A maid,\" she teased. \"You were a maid.\"\n\nHe gave her closest nipple a playful pinch. \"I was a man of the Night's Watch.\" Was, he heard himself say. What was he now? He did not want to look at that. \"Were you a maid?\"\n\nYgritte pushed herself onto an elbow. \"I am nineteen, and a spearwife, and kissed by fire. How could I be maiden?\"\n\n\"Who was he?\"\n\n\"A boy at a feast, five years past. He'd come trading with his brothers, and he had hairlike mine, kissed by fire, so I thought he would be lucky. But he was weak. When he came back t\" try and steal me, Longspear broke his arm and ran him off, and he never tried again, not once.\"\n\n\"It wasn't Longspear, then?\" Jon was relieved. He liked Longspear, with his homely face and friendly ways.\n\nShe punched him. \"That's vile. Would you bed your sister?\"\n\n\"Longspear's not your brother.\"\n\n\"He's of my village. You know nothing, Jon Snow. A true man steals a woman from afar, t\" strengthen the clan. Women who bed brothers or fathers or clan kin offend the gods, and are cursed with weak and sickly children. Even monsters.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Craster weds his daughters,\" Jon pointed out.\n\nShe punched him again. \"Craster's more your kind than ours. His father was a crow who stole a woman out of Whitetree village, but after he had her he flew back t\" his Wall. She went t'Castle Black once t\" show the crow his son, but the brothers blew their horns and run her off. Craster's blood is black, and he bears a heavy curse.\" She ran her fingers lightly across his stomach. \"I feared you'd do the same once. Fly back to the Wall. You never knew what t' do after you stole me.\"\n\nJon sat up. \"Ygritte, I never stole you.\"\n\n\"Aye, you did. You jumped down the mountain and killed Orell, and afore I could get my axe you had a knife at my throat. I thought you'd have me then, or kill me, or maybe both, but you never did. And when I told you the tale o\" Bael the Bard and how he plucked the rose o'Winterfell, I thought you'd know to pluck me then for certain, but you didn't. You know nothing, Jon Snow.\" She gave him ashy smile. \"You might be learning some, though.\"\n\nThe light was shifting all about her, Jon noticed suddenly. He looked around. \"We had best go up. The torch is almost done.\"\n\n\"Is the crow afeared o'Gendel's children?\" she said, with a grin. \"It's only a little way up, and I'm not done with you, Jon Snow.\" She pushed him back down on the clothes and straddled him. \"Would you...\" She hesitated.\n\n\"What?\" he prompted, as the torch began to gutter."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do it again?\" Ygritte blurted. \"With your mouth? The lord's kiss? And I... I could see if you liked it any.\"\n\nBy the time the torch burned out, Jon Snow no longer cared.\n\nHis guilt came back afterward, but weaker than before. If this is so wrong, he wondered, why did the gods make it feel so good?\n\nThe grotto was pitch-dark by the time they finished. The only light was the dim glow of the passage backup to the larger cavern, where a score of fires burned. They were soon fumbling and bumping into each other as they tried to dress in the dark. Ygritte stumbled into the pool and screeched at the cold of the water. When Jon laughed, she pulled him in too. They wrestled and splashed in the dark, and then she was in his arms again, and it turned out they were not finished after all.\n\n\"Jon Snow,\" she told him, when he'd spent his seed inside her, \"don't move now, sweet. I like the feel of you in there, I do. Let's not go back t\" Styr and Jarl. Let's go down inside, and join up with Gendel's children. I don't ever want t\" leave this cave, Jon Snow. Not ever.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "DAENERYS\n\nAll? \"The slave girl sounded wary.\" Your Grace, did this one's worthless ears mishear you?\"\n\nCool green light filtered down through the diamond-shaped panes of colored glass set in the sloping triangular walls, and a breeze was blowing gently through the terrace doors, carrying the scents of fruit and flowers from the garden beyond. \"Your ears heard true,\" said Dany. \"I want to buy them all. Tell the Good Masters, if you will.\"\n\nShe had chosen a Qartheen gown today. The deep violet silk brought out the purple of her eyes. The cut of it bared her left breast. While the Good Masters of Astapor conferred among themselves in low voices, Dany sipped tart persimmon wine from a tall silver flute. She could not quite make out all that they were saying, but she could hear the greed.\n\nEach of the eight brokers was attended by two or three body slaves... though one Grazdan, the eldest, had six. So as not to seem a beggar, Dany had brought her own attendants; Irri and Jhiqui in their sandsilk trousers and painted vests, old Whitebeard and mighty Belwas, her bloodriders. Ser Jorah stood behind her sweltering in his green surcoat with the black bear of Mormont embroidered upon it. The smell of his sweat was an earthy answer to the sweet perfumes that drenched the Astapori.\n\n\"All,\" growled Kraznys mo Nakloz, who smelled of peaches today. The slave girl repeated the word in the Common Tongue of Westeros. \"Of thousands, there are eight. Is this what she means by all? There are also six centuries, who shall be part of a ninth thousand when complete. Would she have them too?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I would,\" said Dany when the question was put to her. \"The eight thousands, the six centuries... and the ones still in training as well. The ones who have not earned the spikes.\"\n\nKraznys turned back to his fellows. Once again they conferred among themselves. The translator had told Dany their names, but it was hard to keep them straight. Four of the men seemed to be named Grazdan, presumably after Grazdan the Great who had founded Old Ghis in the dawn of days. They all looked alike; thick fleshy men with amber skin, broad noses, dark eyes. Their wiry hair was black, or a dark red, or that queer mixture of red and black that was peculiar to Ghiscari. All wrapped themselves in tokars, a garment permitted only to freeborn men of Astapor.\n\nIt was the fringe on the tokar that proclaimed a man's status, Dany had been told by Captain Groleo. In this cool greenroom atop the pyramid, two of the slavers wore tokars fringed in silver, five had gold fringes, and one, the oldest Grazdan, displayed a fringe of fat white pearls that clacked together softly when he shifted in his seat or moved an arm.\n\n\"We cannot sell half-trained boys,\" one of the silver-fringe Grazdans was saying to the others.\n\n\"We can, if her gold is good,\" said a fatter man whose fringe was gold.\n\n\"They are not Unsullied. They have not killed their sucklings. If they fail in the field, they will shame us. And even if we cut five thousand raw boys tomorrow, it would be ten years before they are fit for sale. What would we tell the next buyer who comes seeking Unsullied?\"\n\n\"We will tell him that he must wait,\" said the fat man. \"Gold in my purse is better than gold in my future.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany let them argue, sipping the tart persimmon wine and trying to keep her face blank and ignorant. I will have them all, no matter the price, she told herself. The city had a hundred slave traders, but the eight before her were the greatest. When selling bed slaves, fieldhands, scribes, craftsmen, and tutors, these men were rivals, but their ancestors had allied one with the other for the purpose of making and selling the Unsullied. Brick and blood built Astapor, and brick and blood her people.\n\nIt was Kraznys who finally announced their decision. \"Tell her that the eight thousands she shall have, if her gold proves sufficient. And the six centuries, if she wishes. Tell her to comeback in a year, and we will sell her another two thousand.\"\n\n\"Ina year I shall be in Westeros,\" said Dany when she had heard the translation. \"My need is now. The Unsullied are well trained, but even so, many will fall in battle. I shall need the boys as replacements to take up the swords they drop.\" She put her wine aside and leaned toward the slave girl. \"Tell the Good Masters that I will want even the little ones who still have their puppies. Tell them that I will pay as much for the boy they cut yesterday as for an Unsullied in a spiked helm.\"\n\nThe girl told them. The answer was still no.\n\nDany frowned in annoyance. \"Very well. Tell them I will pay double, so long as I get them all.\"\n\n\"Double?\" The fat one in the gold fringe all but drooled.\n\n\"This little whore is a fool, truly,\" said Khaznys mo Nakloz. \"Ask her for triple, I say. She is desperate enough to pay. Ask for ten times the price of every slave, yes.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The tall Grazdan with the spiked beard spoke in the Common Tongue, though not so well as the slave girl."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your Grace,\" he growled, \"Westeros is being wealthy, yes, but you are not being queen now. Perhaps will never being queen. Even Unsullied maybe losing battles to savage steel knights of Seven Kingdoms. I am reminding, the Good Masters of Astapor are not selling flesh for promisings. Are you having gold and trading goods sufficient to be paying for all these eunuchs you are wanting?\"\n\n\"You know the answer to that better than I, Good Master,\" Dany replied. \"Your men have gone through my ships and tallied every bead of amber and jar of saffron. How much do I have?\"\n\n\"Sufficient to be buying one of thousands,\" the Good Master said, with a contemptuous smile. \"Yet you are paying double, you are saying. Five centuries, then, is all you buy.\"\n\n\"Your pretty crown might buy another century,\" said the fat one in Valyrian. \"Your crown of the three dragons.\"\n\nDany waited for his words to be translated. \"My crown is not for sale.\" When Viserys sold their mother's crown, the last joy had gone from him, leaving only rage. \"Nor will I enslave my people, nor sell their goods and horses. But my ships you can have. The great cog Balerion and the galleys Vhagar and Meraxes.\" She had warned Groleo and the other captains it might come to this, though they had protested the necessity of it furiously. \"Three good ships should be worth more than a few paltry eunuchs.\"\n\nThe fat Grazdan turned to the others. They conferred in low voices once again. \"Two of the thousands,\" the one with the spiked beard said when he turned back. \"It is too much, but the Good Masters are being generous and your need is being great.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Two thousand would never serve for what she meant to do. I must have them all. Dany knew what she must do now, though the taste of it was so bitter that even the persimmon wine could not cleanse it from her month. She had considered long and hard and found no other way. It is my only choice. \"Give me all,\" she said, \"and you may have a dragon.\"\n\nThere was the sound of indrawn breath from Jhiqui beside her. Kraznys smiled at his fellows. \"Did I not tell you? Anything, she would give us.\"\n\nWhitebeard stared in shocked disbelief. His hand trembled where it grasped the staff. \"No.\" He went to one knee before her. \"Your Grace, I beg you, win your throne with dragons, not slaves. You must not do this thing-\"\n\n\"You must not presume to instruct me. Ser Jorah, remove Whitebeard from my presence.\"\n\nMormont seized the old man roughly by an elbow, yanked him back to his feet, and marched him out onto the terrace.\n\n\"Tell the Good Masters I regret this interruption,\" said Dany to the slave girl. \"Tell them I await their answer.\"\n\nShe knew the answer, though; she could see it in the glitter of their eyes and the smiles they tried so hard to hide. Astapor had thousands of eunuchs, and even more slave boys waiting to be cut, but there were only three living dragons in all the great wide world. And the Ghiscari lust for dragons. How could they not? Five times had Old Ghis contended with Valyria when the world was young, and five times gone down to bleak defeat. For the Freehold had dragons, and the Empire had none."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The oldest Grazdan stirred in his seat, and his pearls clacked together softly. \"A dragon of our choice,\" he said in a thin, hard voice. \"The black one is largest and healthiest.\"\n\n\"His name is Drogon.\" She nodded.\n\n\"All your goods, save your crown and your queenly raiment, which we will allow you to keep. The three ships. And Drogon.\"\n\n\"Done,\" she said, in the Common Tongue.\n\n\"Done,\" the old Grazdan answered in his thick Valyrian.\n\nThe others echoed that old man of the pearl fringe. \"Done,\" the slave girl translated, \"and done, and done, eight times done.\"\n\n\"The Unsullied will learn your savage tongue quick enough,\" added Kraznys mo Nakloz, when all the arrangements had been made, \"but until such time you will need a slave to speak to them. Take this one as our gift to you, a token of a bargain well struck.\"\n\n\"I shall,\" said Dany.\n\nThe slave girl rendered his words to her, and hers to him. If she had feelings about being given fora token, she took care not to let them show.\n\nArstan Whitebeard held his tongue as well, when Dany swept by him on the terrace. He followed her down the steps in silence, but she could hear his hardwood staff tap tapping on the red bricks as they went. She did not blame him for his fury. It was a wretched thing she did. The Mother of Dragons has sold her strongest child. Even the thought made her ill.\n\nYet down in the Plaza of Pride, standing on the hot red bricks between the slavers' pyramid and the barracks of the eunuchs, Dany turned on the old man. \"Whitebeard,\" she said, \"I want your counsel, and you should never fear to speak your mind with me... when we are alone. But never question me in front of strangers. Is that understood?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, Your Grace,\" he said unhappily.\n\n\"I am not a child,\" she told him. \"I am a queen.\"\n\n\"Yet even queens can err. The Astapori have cheated you, Your Grace. A dragon is worth more than any army. Aegon proved that three hundred years ago, upon the Field of Fire.\"\n\n\"I know what Aegon proved. I mean to prove a few things of my own.\" Dany turned away from him, to the slave girl standing meekly beside her litter. \"Do you have a name, or must you draw anew one everyday from some barrel?\"\n\n\"That is only for Unsullied,\" the girl said. Then she realized the question had been asked in High Valyrian. Her eyes went wide. \"Oh.\"\n\n\"Your name is Oh?\"\n\n\"No. Your Grace, forgive this one her outburst. Your slave's name is Missandei, but...\"\n\n\"Missandei is no longer a slave. I free you, from this instant. Come ride with me in the litter, I wish to talk.\" Rakharo helped them in, and Dany drew the curtains shut against the dust and heat. \"If you stay with me you will serve as one of my handmaids,\" she said as they set off. \"I shall keep you by my side to speak for meas you spoke for Kraznys. But you may leave my service whenever you choose, if you have father or mother you would sooner return to.\"\n\n\"This one will stay,\" the girl said. \"This one... I... there is no place for me to go. This... I will serve you, gladly.\"\n\n\"I can give you freedom, but not safety,\" Dany warned. \"I have a world to cross and wars to fight. You may go hungry. You may grow sick. You maybe killed.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Valar morghulis,\" said Missandei, in High Valyrian.\n\n\"All men must die,\" Dany agreed, \"but not fora long while, we may pray.\" She leaned back on the pillows and took the girl's hand. \"Are these Unsullied truly fearless?\"\n\n\"Yes, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"You serve me now. Is it true they feel no pain?\"\n\n\"The wine of courage kills such feelings. By the time they slay their sucklings, they have been drinking it for years.\"\n\n\"And they are obedient?\"\n\n\"Obedience is all they know. If you told them not to breathe, they would find that easier than not to obey.\"\n\nDany nodded. \"And when I am done with them?\"\n\n\"Your Grace?\"\n\n\"When I have won my war and claimed the throne that was my father's, my knights will sheathe their swords and return to their keeps, to their wives and children and mothers... to their lives. But these eunuchs have no lives. What am Ito do with eight thousand eunuchs when there are no more battles to be fought?\"\n\n\"The Unsullied make fine guards and excellent watchmen, Your Grace,\" said Missandei. \"And it is never hard to find a buyer for such fine well-blooded troops.\"\n\n\"Men are not bought and sold in Westeros, they tell me.\"\n\n\"With all respect, Your Grace, Unsullied are not men.\"\n\n\"If I did resell them, how would I know they could not be used against me?\" Dany asked pointedly. \"Would they do that? Fight against me, even dome harm?\"\n\n\"If their master commanded. They do not question, Your Grace. All the questions have been culled from them. They obey.\" She looked troubled. \"When you are... when you are done with them... Your Grace might command them to fall upon their swords.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And even that, they would do?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Missandei's voice had grown soft. \"Your Grace.\"\n\nDany squeezed her hand. \"You would sooner I did not ask it of them, though. Why is that? Why do you care?\"\n\n\"This one does not... I... Your Grace...\"\n\n\"Tell me.\"\n\nThe girl lowered her eyes. \"Three of them were my brothers once, Your Grace.\"\n\nThen I hope your brothers areas brave and clever as you. Dany leaned back into her pillow, and let the litter bear her onward, back to Balerion one last time to set her world in order. And back to Drogon. Her mouth set grimly.\n\nIt was along, dark, windy night that followed. Dany fed her dragons as she always did, but found she had no appetite herself. She cried awhile, alone in her cabin, then dried her tears long enough for yet another argument with Groleo. \"Magister Illyrio is not here,\" she finally had to tell him, \"and if he was, he could not sway me either. I need the Unsullied more than I need these ships, and I will hear no more about it.\"\n\nThe anger burned the grief and fear from her, fora few hours at the least. Afterward she called her bloodriders to her cabin, with Ser Jorah. They were the only ones she truly trusted.\n\nShe meant to sleep afterward, to be well rested for the morrow, but an hour of restless tossing in the stuffy confines of the cabin soon convinced her that was hopeless. Outside her door she found Aggo fitting anew string to his bow by the light of a swinging oil lamp. Rakharo sat crosslegged on the deck beside him, sharpening his arakh with a whetstone. Dany told them both to keep on with what they were doing, and went upon deck fora taste of the cool night air. The crew left her alone as they went about their business, but Ser Jorah soon joined her by the rail. He is never far, Dany thought. He knows my moods too well."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Khaleesi. You ought to be asleep. Tomorrow will be hot and hard, I promise you. You'll need your strength.\"\n\n\"Do you remember Eroeh?\" she asked him.\n\n\"The Lhazareen girl?\"\n\n\"They were raping her, but I stopped them and took her under my protection. Only when my sun-and-stars was dead Mago took her back, used her again, and killed her. Aggo said it washer fate.\"\n\n\"I remember,\" Ser Jorah said.\n\n\"I was alone fora longtime, Jorah. All alone but for my brother. I was such a small scared thing. Viserys should have protected me, but instead he hurt me and scared me worse. He shouldn't have done that. He wasn't just my brother, he was my king. Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can't protect themselves?\"\n\n\"Some kings make themselves. Robert did.\"\n\n\"He was no true king,\" Dany said scornfully. \"He did no justice. Justice... that's what kings are for.\"\n\nSer Jorah had no answer. He only smiled, and touched her hair, so lightly. It was enough.\n\nThat night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper's rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She woke suddenly in the darkness of her cabin, still flush with triumph."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Balerion seemed to wake with her, and she heard the faint creak of wood, water lapping against the hull, a football on the deck above her head. And something else.\n\nSomeone was in the cabin with her.\n\n\"Irri? Jhiqui? Where are you?\" Her handmaids did not respond. It was too black to see, but she could hear them breathing. \"Jorah, is that you?\"\n\n\"They sleep,\" a woman said. \"They all sleep.\" The voice was very close. \"Even dragons must sleep.\"\n\nShe is standing over me. \"Who's there?\" Dany peered into the darkness. She thought she could see a shadow, the faintest outline of a shape. \"What do you want tome?\"\n\n\"Remember. Togo north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. Togo forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.\"\n\n\"Quaithe?\" Dany sprung from the bed and threw open the door. Pale yellow lantern light flooded the cabin, and Irri and Jhiqui sat up sleepily. \"Khaleesi?\" murmured Jhiqui, rubbing her eyes. Viserion woke and opened his jaws, and a puff of flame brightened even the darkest corners. There was no sign of a woman in a red lacquer mask. \"Khaleesi, are you unwell?\" asked Jhiqui.\n\n\"A dream.\" Dany shook her head. \"I dreamed a dream, no more. Go back to sleep. All of us, go back to sleep.\" Yet try as she might, sleep would not come again.\n\nIf I look back I am lost, Dany told herself the next morning as she entered Astapor through the harbor gates. She dared not remind herself how small and insignificant her following truly was, or she would lose all courage. Today she rode her silver, clad in horsehair pants and painted leather vest, a bronze medallion belt about her waist and two more crossed between her breasts. Irri and Jhiqui had braided her hair and hung it with a tiny silver bell whose chime sang of the Undying of Qarth, burned in their Palace of Dust."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The redbrick streets of Astapor were almost crowded this morning."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Slaves and servants lined the ways, while the slavers and their women donned their tokars to look down from their stepped pyramids. They are not so different from Qartheen after all, she thought. They want a glimpse of dragons to tell their children of, and their children's children. It made her wonder how many of them would ever have children.\n\nAggo went before her with his great Dothraki bow. Strong Belwas walked to the right of her mare, the girl Missandei to her left. Ser Jorah Mormont was behind in mail and surcoat, glowering at anyone who came too near. Rakharo and Jhogo protected the litter. Dany had commanded that the top be removed, so her three dragons might be chained to the platform. Irri and Jhiqui rode with them, to try and keep them calm. Yet Viserion's tail lashed back and forth, and smoke rose angry from his nostrils. Rhaegal could sense something wrong as well. Thrice he tried to take wing, only to be pulled down by the heavy chain in Jhiqui's hand. Drogon coiled into a ball, wings and tail tucked tight. Only his eyes remained to tell that he was not asleep.\n\nThe rest of her people followed: Groleo and the other captains and their crews, and the eighty-three Dothraki who remained to her of the hundred thousand who had once ridden in Drogo's khalasar. She put the oldest and weakest on the inside of the column, with the nursing women and those with child, and the little girls, and the boys too young to braid their hair. The rest-her warriors, such as they were-rode outside and moved their dismal herd along, the hundred-odd gaunt horses that had survived both red waste and black salt sea."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I ought to have a banner sewn, she thought as she led her tattered band up along Astapor's meandering river. She closed her eyes to imagine how it would look: all flowing black silk, and on it the red three-headed dragon of Targaryen, breathing golden flames. A banner such as Rhaegar might have borne. The river's banks were strangely tranquil. The Worm, the Astapori called the stream. It was wide and slow and crooked, dotted with tiny wooded islands. She glimpsed children playing on one of them, darting amongst elegant marble statues. On another island two lovers kissed in the shade of tall green trees, with no more shame than Dothraki at a wedding. Without clothing, she could not tell if they were slave or free.\n\nThe Plaza of Pride with its great bronze harpy was too small to holdall the Unsullied she had bought. Instead they had been assembled in the Plaza of Punishment, fronting on Astapor's main gate, so they might be marched directly from the city once Daenerys had taken them in hand. There were no bronze statues here; only a wooden platform where rebellious slaves were racked, and flayed, and hanged. \"The Good Masters place them so they will be the first thing anew slave sees upon entering the city,\" Missandei told her as they came to the plaza.\n\nAt first glimpse, Dany thought their skin was striped like the zorses of the Jogos Nhai. Then she rode her silver nearer and saw the raw red flesh beneath the crawling black stripes. Flies. Flies and maggots. The rebellious slaves had been peeled like a man might peel an apple, in along curling strip. One man had an arm black with flies from fingers to elbow, and red and white beneath. Dany reined in beneath him. \"What did this one do?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He raised a hand against his owner.\"\n\nHer stomach roiling, Dany wheeled her silver about and trotted toward the center of the plaza, and the army she had bought so dear. Rank on rank on rank they stood, her stone halfmen with their hearts of brick; eight thousand and six hundred in the spiked bronze caps of fully trained Unsullied, and five thousand odd behind them, bareheaded, yet armed with spears and shortswords. The ones farthest to the back were only boys, she saw, but they stood as straight and still as all the rest.\n\nKraznys mo Nakloz and his fellows were all thereto greet her. Other well-born Astapori stood in knots behind them, sipping wine from silver flutes as slaves circulated among them with trays of olives and cherries and figs. The elder Grazdan satin a sedan chair supported by four huge copper-skinned slaves. Half a dozen mounted lancers rode along the edges of the plaza, keeping back the crowds who had come to watch. The sun flashed blinding bright off the polished copper disks sewn to their cloaks, but she could not help but notice how nervous their horses seemed. They fear the dragons. And well they might.\n\nKraznys had a slave help her from her saddle. His own hands were full; one clutched his tokar, while the other held an ornate whip. \"Here they are.\" He looked at Missandei. \"Tell her they are hers... if she can pay.\"\n\n\"She can,\" the girl said.\n\nSer Jorah barked a command, and the trade goods were brought forward. Six bales of tiger skins, three hundred bolts of fine silk. Jars of saffron, jars of myrrh, jars of pepper and curry and cardamom, an onyx mask, twelve jade monkeys, casks of ink in red and black and green, a box of rare black amethysts, a box of pearls, a cask of pitted olives stuffed with maggots, a dozen casks of pickled cave fish, a great brass gong and a hammer to beat it with, seventeen ivory eyes, and a huge chest full of books written in tongues that Dany could not read. And more, and more, and more. Her people stacked it all before the slavers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "While the payment was being made, Kraznys mo Nakloz favored her with a few final words on the handling of her troops. \"They are green as yet,\" he said through Missandei. \"Tell the whore of Westeros she would be wise to blood them early. There are many small cities between here and there, cities ripe for sacking. Whatever plunder she takes will be hers alone. Unsullied have no lust for gold or gems. And should she take captives, a few guards will suffice to march them back to Astapor. We'll buy the healthy ones, and fora good price. And who knows? In ten years, some of the boys she sends us maybe Unsullied in their turn. Thus all shall prosper.\"\n\nFinally there were no more trade goods to add to the pile. Her Dothraki mounted their horses once more, and Dany said, \"This was all we could carry. The rest awaits you on the ships, a great quantity of amber and wine and black rice. And you have the ships themselves. So all that remains is...\"\n\n\"... the dragon,\" finished the Grazdan with the spiked beard, who spoke the Common Tongue so thickly.\n\n\"And here he waits.\" Ser Jorah and Belwas walked beside her to the litter, where Drogon and his brothers lay basking in the sun. Jhiqui unfastened one end of the chain, and handed it down to her. When she gave a yank, the black dragon raised his head, hissing, and unfolded wings of night and scarlet. Kraznys mo Nakloz smiled broadly as their shadow fell across him.\n\nDany handed the slaver the end of Drogon's chain. In return he presented her with the whip. The handle was black dragonbone, elaborately carved and inlaid with gold. Nine long thin leather lashes trailed from it, each one tipped by a gilded claw. The gold pommel was a woman's head, with pointed ivory teeth. \"The harpy's fingers,\" Kraznys named the scourge."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help keep the tale going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 29"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "While the payment was being made, Kraznys mo Nakloz favored her with a few final words on the handling of her troops. \"They are green as yet,\" he said through Missandei. \"Tell the whore of Westeros she would be wise to blood them early. There are many small cities between here and there, cities ripe for sacking. Whatever plunder she takes will be hers alone. Unsullied have no lust for gold or gems. And should she take captives, a few guards will suffice to march them back to Astapor. We'll buy the healthy ones, and fora good price. And who knows? In ten years, some of the boys she sends us maybe Unsullied in their turn. Thus all shall prosper.\"\n\nFinally there were no more trade goods to add to the pile. Her Dothraki mounted their horses once more, and Dany said, \"This was all we could carry. The rest awaits you on the ships, a great quantity of amber and wine and black rice. And you have the ships themselves. So all that remains is...\"\n\n\"... the dragon,\" finished the Grazdan with the spiked beard, who spoke the Common Tongue so thickly.\n\n\"And here he waits.\" Ser Jorah and Belwas walked beside her to the litter, where Drogon and his brothers lay basking in the sun. Jhiqui unfastened one end of the chain, and handed it down to her. When she gave a yank, the black dragon raised his head, hissing, and unfolded wings of night and scarlet. Kraznys mo Nakloz smiled broadly as their shadow fell across him.\n\nDany handed the slaver the end of Drogon's chain. In return he presented her with the whip. The handle was black dragonbone, elaborately carved and inlaid with gold. Nine long thin leather lashes trailed from it, each one tipped by a gilded claw. The gold pommel was a woman's head, with pointed ivory teeth. \"The harpy's fingers,\" Kraznys named the scourge."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Dany turned the whip in her hand."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Such alight thing, to bear such weight. \"Is it done, then? Do they belong tome?\"\n\n\"It is done,\" he agreed, giving the chain a sharp pull to bring Drogon down from the litter.\n\nDany mounted her silver. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She felt desperately afraid. Was this what my brother would have done? She wondered if Prince Rhaegar had been this anxious when he saw the Usurper's host formed up across the Trident with all their banners floating on the wind.\n\nShe stood in her stirrups and raised the harpy's fingers above her head for all the Unsullied to see. \"IT IS DONE!\" she cried at the top of her lungs. \"YOU ARE MINE!\" She gave the mare her heels and galloped along the first rank, holding the fingers high. \"YOU ARE THE DRAGON'S NOW! YOU'RE BOUGHT AND PAID FOR! IT IS DONE! IT IS DONE!\"\n\nShe glimpsed old Grazdan turn his grey head sharply. He hears me speak Valyrian. The other slavers were not listening. They crowded around Kraznys and the dragon, shouting advice. Though the Astapori yanked and tugged, Drogon would not budge off the litter. Smoke rose grey from his open jaws, and his long neck curled and straightened as he snapped at the slaver's face.\n\nIt is time to cross the Trident, Dany thought, as she wheeled and rode her silver back. Her bloodriders moved in close around her. \"You are in difficulty,\" she observed.\n\n\"He will not come,\" Kraznys said.\n\n\"There is a reason. A dragon is no slave.\" And Dany swept the lash down as hard as she could across the slaver's face. Kraznys screamed and staggered back, the blood running red down his cheeks into his perfumed beard. The harpy's fingers had torn his features half to pieces with one slash, but she did not pause to contemplate the ruin. \"Drogon,\" she sang out loudly, sweetly, all her fear forgotten. \"Dracarys.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The black dragon spread his wings and roared.\n\nA lance of swirling dark flame took Kraznys full in the face. His eyes melted and ran down his cheeks, and the oil in his hair and beard burst so fiercely into fire that for an instant the slaver wore a burning crown twice as tall as his head. The sudden stench of charred meat overwhelmed even his perfume, and his wail seemed to drown all other sound.\n\nThen the Plaza of Punishment blew apart into blood and chaos. The Good Masters were shrieking, stumbling, shoving one another aside and tripping over the fringes of their tokars in their haste. Drogon flew almost lazily at Kraznys, black wings beating. Ashe gave the slaver another taste of fire, Irri and Jhiqui unchained Viserion and Rhaegal, and suddenly there were three dragons in the air. When Dany turned to look, a third of Astapor's proud demon-horned warriors were fighting to stay atop their terrified mounts, and another third were fleeing in a bright blaze of shiny copper. One man kept his saddle long enough to draw a sword, but Jhogo's whip coiled about his neck and cutoff his shout. Another lost a hand to Rakharo's arakh and rode off reeling and spurting blood. Aggo sat calmly notching arrows to his bowstring and sending them at tokars. Silver, gold, or plain, he cared nothing for the fringe. Strong Belwas had his arakh out as well, and he spun it as he charged.\n\n\"Spears!\" Dany heard one Astapori shout. It was Grazdan, old Grazdan in his tokar heavy with pearls. \"Unsullied! Defend us, stop them, defend your masters! Spears! Swords!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When Rakharo put an arrow through his mouth, the slaves holding his sedan chair broke and ran, dumping him unceremoniously on the ground. The old man crawled to the first rank of eunuchs, his blood pooling on the bricks. The Unsullied did not so much as look down to watch him die. Rank on rank on rank, they stood.\n\nAnd did not move. The gods have heard my prayer.\n\n\"Unsullied!\" Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. \"Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see.\" She raised the harpy's fingers in the air... and then she flung the scourge aside. \"Freedom!\" she sang out. \"Dracarys! Dracarys!\"\n\n\"Dracarys!\" they shouted back, the sweetest word she'd ever heard. \"Dracarys! Dracarys!\" And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire."
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"value": "SANSA\n\nOn the morning her new gown was to be ready, the serving girls filled Sansa's tub with steaming hot water and scrubbed her head to toe until she glowed pink. Cersei's own bedmaid trimmed her nails and brushed and curled her auburn hair so it fell down her back in soft ringlets. She brought a dozen of the queen's favorite scents as well. Sansa chose a sharp sweet fragrance with a hint of lemon in it under the smell of flowers. The maid dabbed some on her finger and touched Sansa behind each ear, and under her chin, and then lightly on her nipples.\n\nCersei herself arrived with the seamstress, and watched as they dressed Sansa in her new clothes. The smallclothes were all silk, but the gown itself was ivory samite and cloth-of-silver, and lined with silvery satin. The points of the long dagged sleeves almost touched the ground when she lowered her arms. And it was a woman's gown, not a little girl's, there was no doubt of that. The bodice was slashed in front almost to her belly, the deep vee covered over with a panel of ornate Myrish lace in dove-grey. The skirts were long and full, the waist so tight that Sansa had to hold her breath as they laced her into it. They brought her new shoes as well, slippers of soft grey doeskin that hugged her feet like lovers. \"You are very beautiful, my lady,\" the seamstress said when she was dressed.\n\n\"I am, aren't I?\" Sansa giggled, and spun, her skirts swirling around her. \"Oh, I am.\" She could not wait for Willas to see her like this. He will love me, he will, he must... he will forget Winterfell when he sees me, I'll see that he does."
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"value": "Queen Cersei studied her critically. \"A few gems, I think. The moonstones Joffrey gave her.\"\n\n\"At once, Your Grace,\" her maid replied.\n\nWhen the moonstones hung from Sansa's ears and about her neck, the queen nodded. \"Yes. The gods have been kind to you, Sansa. You area lovely girl. It seems almost obscene to squander such sweet innocence on that gargoyle.\"\n\n\"What gargoyle?\" Sansa did not understand. Did she mean Willas? How could she know? No one knew, but her and Margaery and the Queen of Thorns... oh, and Dontos, but he didn't count.\n\nCersei Lannister ignored the question. \"The cloak,\" she commanded, and the women brought it out: along cloak of white velvet heavy with pearls. A fierce direwolf was embroidered upon it in silver thread. Sansa looked at it with sudden dread. \"Your father's colors,\" said Cersei, as they fastened it about her neck with a slender silver chain.\n\nA maiden's cloak. Sansa's hand went to her throat. She would have torn the thing away if she had dared.\n\n\"You're prettier with your mouth closed, Sansa,\" Cersei told her. \"Come along now, the septon is waiting. And the wedding guests as well.\"\n\n\"No,\" Sansa blurted. \"No.\"\n\n\"Yes. You area ward of the crown. The king stands in your father's place, since your brother is an attainted traitor. That means he has every right to dispose of your hand. You are to marry my brother Tyrion.\"\n\nMy claim, she thought, sickened. Dontos the Fool was not so foolish after all; he had seen the truth of it. Sansa backed away from the queen. \"I won't.\" I'm to marry Willas, I'm to be the lady of Highgarden, please..."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I understand your reluctance. Cry if you must. In your place, I would likely rip my hair out. He's a loathsome little imp, no doubt of it, but marry him you shall.\"\n\n\"You can't make me.\"\n\n\"Of course we can. You may come along quietly and say your vows as befits a lady, or you may struggle and scream and make a spectacle for the stableboys to titter over, but you will end up wedded and bedded all the same.\" The queen opened the door. Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Osmund Kettleblack were waiting without, in the white scale armor of the Kingsguard. \"Escort Lady Sansa to the sept,\" she told them. \"Carry her if you must, but try not to tear the gown, it was very costly.\"\n\nSansa tried to run, but Cersei's handmaid caught her before she'd gone a yard. Ser Meryn Trant gave her a look that made her cringe, but Kettleblack touched her almost gently and said, \"Do as you're told, sweetling, it won't be so bad. Wolves are supposed to be brave, aren't they?\"\n\nBrave. Sansa took a deep breath. I am a Stark, yes, I can be brave. They were all looking at her, the way they had looked at her that day in the yard when Ser Boros Blount had torn her clothes off. It had been the Imp who saved her from a beating that day, the same man who was waiting for her now. He is not so bad as the rest of them, she told herself. \"I'll go.\"\n\nCersei smiled. \"I knew you would.\"\n\nAfterward, she could not remember leaving the room or descending the steps or crossing the yard. It seemed to take all her attention just to put one foot down in front of the other. Ser Meryn and Ser Osmund walked beside her, in cloaks as pale as her own, lacking only the pearls and the direwolf that had been her father's. Joffrey himself was waiting for heron the steps of the castle sept. The king was resplendent in crimson and gold, his crown on his head. \"I'm your father today,\" he announced."
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"value": "\"You're not,\" she flared. \"You'll never be.\"\n\nHis face darkened. \"I am. I'm your father, and I can marry you to whoever I like. To anyone. You'll marry the pig boy if I say so, and bed down with him in the sty.\" His green eyes glittered with amusement. \"Or maybe I should give you to Ilyn Payne, would you like him better?\"\n\nHer heart lurched. \"Please, Your Grace,\" she begged. \"If you ever loved me even a little bit, don't make me marry your-\"\n\n\"-uncle?\" Tyrion Lannister stepped through the doors of the sept. \"Your Grace,\" he said to Joffrey. \"Grant me a moment alone with Lady Sansa, if you would be so kind?\"\n\nThe king was about to refuse, but his mother gave him a sharp look. They drew off a few feet.\n\nTyrion wore a doublet of black velvet covered with golden scrollwork, thigh-high boots that added three inches to his height, a chain of rubies and lions' heads. But the gash across his face was raw and red, and his nose was a hideous scab. \"You are very beautiful, Sansa,\" he told her.\n\n\"It is good of you to say so, my lord.\" She did not know what else to say. Should I tell him he is handsome? He'll think me a fool or a liar. She lowered her gaze and held her tongue.\n\n\"My lady, this is noway to bring you to your wedding. I am sorry for that. And for making this so sudden, and so secret. My lord father felt it necessary, for reasons of state. Else I would have come to you sooner, as I wished.\" He waddled closer. \"You did not ask for this marriage, I know. No more than I did. If I had refused you, however, they would have wed you to my cousin Lancel. Perhaps you would prefer that. He is nearer your age, and fairer to look upon. If that is your wish, say so, and I will end this farce.\""
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"value": "I don't want any Lannister, she wanted to say. I want Willas, I want Highgarden and the puppies and the barge, and sons named Eddard and Bran and Rickon. But then she remembered what Dontos had told her in the godswood. Tyrell or Lannister, it makes no matter, it's not me they want, only my claim. \"You are kind, my lord,\" she said, defeated. \"I am award of the throne and my duty is to marry as the king commands.\"\n\nHe studied her with his mismatched eyes. \"I know I am not the sort of husband young girls dream of, Sansa,\" he said softly, \"but neither am I Joffrey.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said. \"You were kind tome. I remember.\"\n\nTyrion offered her a thick, blunt-fingered hand. \"Come, then. Let us do our duty.\"\n\nSo she put her hand in his, and he led her to the marriage altar, where the septon waited between the Mother and the Father to join their lives together. She saw Dontos in his fool's motley, looking at her with big round eyes. Ser Balon Swann and Ser Boros Blount were therein Kings-guard white, but not Ser Loras. None of the Tyrells are here, she realized suddenly. But there were other witnesses aplenty; the eunuch Varys, Ser Addam Marbrand, Lord Philip Foote, Ser Bronn, Jalabhar Xho, a dozen others. Lord Gyles was coughing, Lady Ermesande was at the breast, and Lady Tanda's pregnant daughter was sobbing for no apparent reason. Let her sob, Sansa thought. Perhaps I shall do the same before this day is done."
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"value": "The ceremony passed as in a dream. Sansa did all that was required of her. There were prayers and vows and singing, and tall candles burning, a hundred dancing lights that the tears in her eyes transformed into a thousand. Thankfully no one seemed to notice that she was crying as she stood there, wrapped in her father's colors; or if they did, they pretended not to. In what seemed no time at all, they came to the changing of the cloaks.\n\nAs father of the realm, Joffrey took the place of Lord Eddard Stark. Sansa stood stiff as a lance as his hands came over her shoulders to fumble with the clasp of her cloak. One of them brushed her breast and lingered to give it a little squeeze. Then the clasp opened, and Joff swept her maiden's cloak away with a kingly flourish and a grin.\n\nHis uncle's part went less well. The bride's cloak he held was huge and heavy, crimson velvet richly worked with lions and bordered with gold satin and rubies. No one had thought to bring a stool, however, and Tyrion stood afoot and a half shorter than his bride. Ashe moved behind her, Sansa felt a sharp tug on her skirt. He wants me to kneel, she realized, blushing. She was mortified. It was not supposed to be this way. She had dreamed of her wedding a thousand times, and always she had pictured how her betrothed would stand behind her tall and strong, sweep the cloak of his protection over her shoulders, and tenderly kiss her cheek as he leaned forward to fasten the clasp.\n\nShe felt another tug at her skirt, more insistent. I won't. Why should I spare his feelings, when no one cares about mine?\n\nThe dwarf tugged at her a third time. Stubbornly she pressed her lips together and pretended not to notice. Someone behind them tittered. The queen, she thought, but it didn't matter. They were all laughing by then, Joffrey the loudest. \"Dontos, down on your hands and knees,\" the king commanded. \"My uncle needs a boost to climb his bride.\""
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"value": "And so it was that her lord husband cloaked her in the colors of House Lannister whilst standing on the back of a fool.\n\nWhen Sansa turned, the little man was gazing up at her, his mouth tight, his face as red as her cloak. Suddenly she was ashamed of her stubbornness. She smoothed her skirts and knelt in front of him, so their heads were on the same level. \"With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband.\"\n\n\"With this kiss I pledge my love,\" the dwarf replied hoarsely, \"and take you for my lady and wife.\" He leaned forward, and their lips touched briefly.\n\nHe is so ugly, Sansa thought when his face was close to hers. He is even uglier than the Hound.\n\nThe septon raised his crystal high, so the rainbow light fell down upon them. \"Herein the sight of gods and men,\" he said, \"I do solemnly proclaim Tyrion of House Lannister and Sansa of House Stark to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them.\"\n\nShe had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing.\n\nThe wedding feast was held in the Small Hall. There were perhaps fifty guests; Lannister retainers and allies for the most part, joining those who had been at the wedding. And here Sansa found the Tyrells. Margaery gave her such a sad look, and when the Queen of Thorns tottered in between Left and Right, she never looked at her at all. Elinor, Alla, and Megga seemed determined not to know her. My friends, Sansa thought bitterly.\n\nHer husband drank heavily and ate but little. He listened whenever someone rose to make a toast and sometimes nodded a curt acknowledgment, but otherwise his face might have been made of stone. The feast seemed to goon forever, though Sansa tasted none of the food. She wanted it to be done, and yet she dreaded its end. For after the feast would come the bedding. The men would carry her up to her wedding bed, undressing heron the way and making rude jokes about the fate that awaited her between the sheets, while the women did Tyrion the same honors. Only after they had been bundled naked into bed would they be left alone, and even then the guests would stand outside the bridal chamber, shouting ribald suggestions through the door. The bedding had seemed wonderfully wicked and exciting when Sansa was a girl, but now that the moment was upon her she felt only dread. She did not think she could bear for them to ripoff her clothes, and she was certain she would burst into tears at the first randy jape."
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"value": "When the musicians began to play, she timidly laid her hand on Tyrion's and said, \"My lord, should we lead the dance?\"\n\nHis mouth twisted. \"I think we have already given them sufficent amusement for one day, don't you?\"\n\n\"As you say, my lord.\" She pulled her hand back.\n\nJoffrey and Margaery led in their place. How can a monster dance so beautifully? Sansa wondered. She had often daydreamed of how she would dance at her wedding, with every eye upon her and her handsome lord. In her dreams they had all been smiling. Not even my husband is smiling.\n\nOther guests soon joined the king and his betrothed on the floor. Elinor danced with her young squire, and Megga with Prince Tommen. Lady Merryweather, the Myrish beauty with the black hair and the big dark eyes, spun so provocatively that every man in the hall was soon watching her. Lord and Lady Tyrell moved more sedately. Ser Kevan Lannister begged the honor of Lady Janna Fossoway, Lord Tyrell's sister. Merry Crane took the floor with the exile prince Jalabhar Xho, gorgeous in his feathered finery. Cersei Lannister partnered first Lord Redwyne, then Lord Rowan, and finally her own father, who danced with smooth unsmiling grace.\n\nSansa sat with her hands in her lap, watching how the queen moved and laughed and tossed her blonde curls. She charms them all, she thought dully. How I hate her. She looked away, to where Moon Boy danced with Dontos.\n\n\"Lady Sansa.\" Ser Garlan Tyrell stood beside the dais. \"Would you honor me? If your lord consents?\""
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"value": "The Imp's mismatched eyes narrowed. \"My lady can dance with whomever she pleases.\"\n\nPerhaps she ought to have remained beside her husband, but she wanted to dance so badly... and Ser Garlan was brother to Margaery, to Willas, to her Knight of Flowers. \"I see why they name you Garlan the Gallant, ser,\" she said, as she took his hand.\n\n\"My lady is gracious to say so. My brother Willas gave me that name, as it happens. To protect me.\"\n\n\"To protect you?\" She gave him a puzzled look.\n\nSer Garlan laughed. \"I was a plump little boy, I fear, and we do have an uncle called Garth the Gross. So Willas struck first, though not before threatening me with Garlan the Greensick, Garlan the Galling, and Garlan the Gargoyle.\"\n\nIt was so sweet and silly that Sansa had to laugh, despite everything. Afterward she was absurdly grateful. Somehow the laughter made her hopeful again, if only fora little while. Smiling, she let the music take her, losing herself in the steps, in the sound of flute and pipes and harp, in the rhythm of the drum... and from time to time in Ser Garlan's arms, when the dance brought them together. \"My lady wife is most concerned for you,\" he said quietly, one such time.\n\n\"Lady Leonette is too sweet. Tell her I am well.\"\n\n\"A bride at her wedding should be more than well.\" His voice was not unkind. \"You seemed close to tears.\"\n\n\"Tears of joy, ser.\"\n\n\"Your eyes give the lie to your tongue.\" Ser Garlan turned her, drew her close to his side. \"My lady, I have seen how you look at my brother. Loras is valiant and handsome, and we all love him dearly... but your Imp will make a better husband. He is a bigger man than he seems, I think.\""
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"value": "The music spun them apart before Sansa could think of a reply. It was Mace Tyrell opposite her, red-faced and sweaty, and then Lord Merryweather, and then Prince Tommen. \"I want to be married too,\" said the plump little princeling, who was all of nine. \"I'm taller than my uncle!\"\n\n\"I know you are,\" said Sansa, before the partners changed again. Ser Kevan told her she was beautiful, Jalabhar Xho said something she did not understand in the Summer Tongue, and Lord Redwyne wished her many fat children and long years of joy. And then the dance brought her face-to-face with Joffrey.\n\nSansa stiffened as his hand touched hers, but the king tightened his grip and drew her closer. \"You shouldn't look so sad. My uncle is an ugly little thing, but you'll still have me.\"\n\n\"You're to marry Margaery!\"\n\n\"A king can have other women. Whores. My father did. One of the Aegons did too. The third one, or the fourth. He had lots of whores and lots of bastards.\" As they whirled to the music, Joff gave her a moist kiss. \"My uncle will bring you to my bed whenever I command it.\"\n\nSansa shook her head. \"He won't.\"\n\n\"He will, or I'll have his head. That King Aegon, he had any woman he wanted, whether they were married or no.\"\n\nThankfully, it was time to change again. Her legs had turned to wood, though, and Lord Rowan, Ser Tallad, and Elinor's squire all must have thought her a very clumsy dancer. And then she was back with Ser Garlan once more, and soon, blessedly, the dance was over."
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"value": "Her relief was short-lived. No sooner had the music died than she heard Joffrey say, \"It's time to bed them! Let's get the clothes off her, and have a look at what the she-wolf's got to give my uncle!\" Other men took up the cry, loudly.\n\nHer dwarf husband lifted his eyes slowly from his wine cup. \"I'll have no bedding.\"\n\nJoffrey seized Sansa's arm. \"You will if I command it.\"\n\nThe Imp slammed his dagger down in the table, where it stood quivering. \"Then you'll service your own bride with a wooden prick. I'll geld you, I swear it.\"\n\nA shocked silence fell. Sansa pulled away from Joffrey, but he had a grip on her, and her sleeve ripped. No one even seemed to hear. Queen Cersei turned to her father. \"Did you hear him?\"\n\nLord Tywin rose from his seat. \"I believe we can dispense with the bedding. Tyrion, I am certain you did not mean to threaten the king's royal person.\"\n\nSansa saw a spasm of rage pass across her husband's face. \"I misspoke,\" he said. \"It was a bad jape, sire.\"\n\n\"You threatened to geld me!\" Joffrey said shrilly.\n\n\"I did, Your Grace,\" said Tyrion, \"but only because I envied your royal manhood. Mine own is so small and stunted.\" His face twisted into a leer. \"And if you take my tongue, you will leave me noway at all to pleasure this sweet wife you gave me.\"\n\nLaughter burst from the lips of Ser Osmund Kettleblack. Someone else sniggered. But Joff did not laugh, nor Lord Tywin. \"Your Grace,\" he said, \"my son is drunk, you can see that.\""
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"value": "\"I am,\" the Imp confessed, \"but not so drunk that I cannot attend to my own bedding.\" He hopped down from the dais and grabbed Sansa roughly. \"Come, wife, time to smash your portcullis. I want to play come-into-the-castle.\"\n\nRed-faced, Sansa went with him from the Small Hall. What choice do I have? Tyrion waddled when he walked, especially when he walked as quickly as he did now. The gods were merciful, and neither Joffrey nor any of the others moved to follow.\n\nFor their wedding night, they had been granted the use of an airy bedchamber high in the Tower of the Hand. Tyrion kicked the door shut behind them. \"There is a flagon of good Arbor gold on the sideboard, Sansa. Will you be so kind as to pour me a cup?\"\n\n\"Is that wise, my lord?\"\n\n\"Nothing was ever wiser. I am not truly drunk, you see. But I mean to be.\"\n\nSansa filled a goblet for each of them. It will be easier if I am drunk as well. She sat on the edge of the great curtained bed and drained half her cup in three long swallows. No doubt it was very fine wine, but she was too nervous to taste it. It made her head swim. \"Would you have me undress, my lord?\"\n\n\"Tyrion.\" He cocked his head. \"My name is Tyrion, Sansa.\"\n\n\"Tyrion. My lord. Should I takeoff my gown, or do you want to undress me?\" She took another swallow of wine.\n\nThe Imp turned away from her. \"The first time I wed, there was us and a drunken septon, and some pigs to bear witness. We ate one of our witnesses at our wedding feast. Tysha fed me crackling and I licked the grease off her fingers, and we were laughing when we fell into bed.\""
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"value": "\"You were wed before? I... I had forgotten.\"\n\n\"You did not forget. You never knew.\"\n\n\"Who was she, my lord?\" Sansa was curious despite herself.\n\n\"Lady Tysha.\" His mouth twisted. \"Of House Silverfist. Their arms have one gold coin and a hundred silver, upon a bloody sheet. Ours was a very short marriage... as befits a very short man, I suppose.\"\n\nSansa stared down at her hands and said nothing.\n\n\"How old are you, Sansa?\" asked Tyrion, after a moment.\n\n\"Thirteen,\" she said, \"when the moon turns.\"\n\n\"Gods have mercy.\" The dwarf took another swallow of wine. \"Well, talk won't make you older. Shall we get on with this, my lady? If it please you?\"\n\n\"It will please me to please my lord husband.\"\n\nThat seemed to anger him. \"You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall.\"\n\n\"Courtesy is a lady's armor,\" Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that.\n\n\"I am your husband. You can takeoff your armor now.\"\n\n\"And my clothing?\"\n\n\"That too.\" He waved his wine cup at her. \"My lord father has commanded me to consummate this marriage.\"\n\nHer hands trembled as she began fumbling at her clothes. She had ten thumbs instead of fingers, and all of them were broken. Yet somehow she managed the laces and buttons, and her cloak and gown and girdle and undersilk slid to the floor, until finally she was stepping out of her smallclothes. Gooseprickles covered her arms and legs. She kept her eyes on the floor, too shy to look at him, but when she was done she glanced up and found him staring. There was hunger in his green eye, it seemed to her, and fury in the black. Sansa did not know which scared her more."
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"value": "\"You're a child,\" he said.\n\nShe covered her breasts with her hands. \"I've flowered.\"\n\n\"A child,\" he repeated, \"but I want you. Does that frighten you, Sansa?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Meas well. I know I am ugly-\"\n\n\"No, my-\"\n\nHe pushed himself to his feet. \"Don't lie, Sansa. I am malformed, scarred, and small, but...\" she could see him groping\"... abed, when the candles are blown out, I am made no worse than other men. In the dark, I am the Knight of Flowers.\" He took a draught of wine. \"I am generous. Loyal to those who are loyal tome. I've proven I'm no craven. And I am cleverer than most, surely wits count for something. I can even be kind. Kindness is not a habit with us Lannisters, I fear, but I know I have some somewhere. I could be... I could be good to you.\"\n\nHe is as frightened as I am, Sansa realized. Perhaps that should have made her feel more kindly toward him, but it did not. All she felt was pity, and pity was death to desire. He was looking at her, waiting for her to say something, but all her words had withered. She could only stand there trembling.\n\nWhen he finally realized that she had no answer for him, Tyrion Lannister drained the last of his wine. \"I understand,\" he said bitterly. \"Get in the bed, Sansa. We need to do our duty.\"\n\nShe climbed onto the featherbed, conscious of his stare. A scented beeswax candle burned on the bedside table and rose petals had been strewn between the sheets. She had started to pull up a blanket to cover herself when she heard him say, \"No.\""
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"value": "The cold made her shiver, but she obeyed. Her eyes closed, and she waited. After a moment she heard the sound of her husband pulling off his boots, and the rustle of clothing as he undressed himself. When he hopped upon the bed and put his hand on her breast, Sansa could not help but shudder. She lay with her eyes closed, every muscle tense, dreading what might come next. Would he touch her again? Kiss her? Should she open her legs for him now? She did not know what was expected of her.\n\n\"Sansa.\" The hand was gone. \"Open your eyes.\"\n\nShe had promised to obey; she opened her eyes. He was sitting by her feet, naked. Where his legs joined, his man's staff poked up stiff and hard from a thicket of coarse yellow hair, but it was the only thing about him that was straight.\n\n\"My lady,\" Tyrion said, \"you are lovely, make no mistake, but... I cannot do this. My father be damned. We will wait. The turn of a moon, a year, a season, however long it takes. Until you have come to know me better, and perhaps to trust me a little.\" His smile might have been meant to be reassuring, but without a nose it only made him look more grotesque and sinister.\n\nLook at him, Sansa told herself, look at your husband, at all of him, Septa Mordane said all men are beautiful, find his beauty, try. She stared at the stunted legs, the swollen brutish brow, the green eye and the black one, the raw stump of his nose and crooked pink scar, the coarse tangle of black and gold hair that passed for his beard. Even his manhood was ugly, thick and veined, with a bulbous purple head. This is not right, this is not fair, how have I sinned that the gods would do this tome, how?"
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"value": "\"On my honor as a Lannister,\" the Imp said, \"I will not touch you until you want me to.\"\n\nIt took all the courage that was in her to look in those mismatched eyes and say, \"And if I never want you to, my lord?\"\n\nHis mouth jerked as if she had slapped him. \"Never?\"\n\nHer neck was so tight she could scarcely nod.\n\n\"Why,\" he said, \"that is why the gods made whores for imps like me.\" He closed his short blunt fingers into a fist, and climbed down off the bed."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "ARYA\n\nStoney Sept was the biggest town Arya had seen since King's Landing, and Harwin said her father had won a famous battle here.\n\n\"The Mad King's men had been hunting Robert, trying to catch him before he could rejoin your father,\" he told her as they rode toward the gate. \"He was wounded, being tended by some friends, when Lord Connington the Hand took the town with a mighty force and started searching house by house. Before they could find him, though, Lord Eddard and your grandfather came down on the town and stormed the walls. Lord Connington fought back fierce. They battled in the streets and alleys, even on the rooftops, and all the septons rang their bells so the smallfolk would know to lock their doors. Robert came out of hiding to join the fight when the bells began to ring. He slew six men that day, they say. One was Myles Mooton, a famous knight who'd been Prince Rhaegar's squire. He would have slain the Hand too, but the battle never brought them together. Connington wounded your grandfather Tully sore, though, and killed Ser Denys Arryn, the darling of the Vale. But when he saw the day was lost, he flew off as fast as the griffins on his shield. The Battle of the Bells, they called it after. Robert always said your father won it, not him.\"\n\nMore recent battles had been fought here as well, Arya thought from the look of the place. The town gates were made of raw new wood; outside the walls a pile of charred planks remained to tell what had happened to the old ones.\n\nStoney Sept was closed uptight, but when the captain of the gate saw who they were, he opened a sally port for them. \"How you fixed for food?\" Tom asked as they entered."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Not so bad as we were. The Huntsman brought in a flock o'sheep, and there's been some trading across the Blackwater. The harvest wasn't burned south o\" the river. Course, there's plenty want to take what we got. Wolves one day, Mummers the next. Them that's not looking for food are looking for plunder, or women to rape, and them that's not out for gold or wenches are looking for the bloody Kingslayer. Talk is, he slipped right through Lord Edmure's fingers.\"\n\n\"Lord Edmure?\" Lem frowned. \"Is Lord Hoster dead, then?\"\n\n\"Dead or dying. Think Lannister might be making for the Blackwater? It's the quickest way to King's Landing, the Huntsman swears.\" The captain did not wait for an answer. \"He took his dogs out fora sniff round. If Ser Jaime's hereabouts, they'll find him. I've seen them dogs rip bears apart. Think they'll like the taste of lion blood?\"\n\n\"A chewed-up corpse's no good to no one,\" said Lem. \"The Huntsman bloody well knows that, too.\"\n\n\"When the westermen came through they raped the Huntsman's wife and sister, put his crops to the torch, ate half his sheep, and killed the other half for spite. Killed six dogs too, and threw the carcasses down his well. A chewed-up corpse would be plenty good enough for him, I'd say. Meas well.\"\n\n\"He'd best not,\" said Lem. \"That's all I got to say. He'd best not, and you're a bloody fool.\"\n\nArya rode between Harwin and Anguy as the outlaws moved down the streets where her father once had fought. She could seethe sept on its hill, and below it a stout strong holdfast of grey stone that looked much too small for such a big town. But every third house they passed was a blackened shell, and she saw no people. \"Are all the townfolk dead?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Only shy.\" Anguy pointed out two bowmen on a roof, and some boys with sooty faces crouched in the rubble of an alehouse. Farther on, a baker threw open a shuttered window and shouted down to Lem. The sound of his voice brought more people out of hiding, and Stoney Sept slowly seemed to come to life around them.\n\nIn the market square at the town's heart stood a fountain in the shape of a leaping trout, spouting water into a shallow pool. Women were filling pails and flagons there. A few feet away, a dozen iron cages hung from creaking wooden posts. Crow cages, Arya knew. The crows were mostly outside the cages, splashing in the water or perched atop the bars; inside were men. Lem reined up scowling. \"What's this, now?\"\n\n\"Justice,\" answered a woman at the fountain.\n\n\"What, did you run short o' hempen rope?\"\n\n\"Was this done at Ser Wilbert's decree?\" asked Tom.\n\nA man laughed bitterly. \"The lions killed Ser Wilbert a year ago. His sons are all off with the Young Wolf, getting fat in the west. You think they give a damn for the likes of us? It was the Mad Huntsman caught these wolves.\"\n\nWolves. Arya went cold. Robb's men, and my father's. She felt drawn toward the cages. The bars allowed so little room that prisoners could neither sit nor turn; they stood naked, exposed to sun and wind and rain. The first three cages held dead men. Carrion crows had eaten out their eyes, yet the empty sockets seemed to follow her. The fourth man in the row stirred as she passed. Around his mouth his ragged beard was thick with blood and flies. They exploded when he spoke, buzzing around his head. \"Water.\" The word was a croak. \"Please... water...\""
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"value": "The man in the next cage opened his eyes at the sound. \"Here,\" he said. \"Here, me.\" An old man, he was; his beard was grey and his scalp was bald and mottled brown with age.\n\nThere was another dead man beyond the old one, a big red-bearded man with a rotting grey bandage covering his left ear and part of his temple. But the worst thing was between his legs, where nothing remained but a crusted brown hole crawling with maggots. Farther down was a fat man. The crow cage was so cruelly narrow it was hard to see how they'd ever gotten him inside. The iron dug painfully into his belly, squeezing bulges out between the bars. Long days baking in the sun had burned him a painful red from head to heel. When he shifted his weight, his cage creaked and swayed, and Arya could see pale white stripes where the bars had shielded his flesh from the sun.\n\n\"Whose men were you?\" she asked them.\n\nAt the sound of her voice, the fat man opened his eyes. The skin around them was so red they looked like boiled eggs floating in a dish of blood. \"Water... a drink...\"\n\n\"Whose?\" she said again.\n\n\"Pay them no mind, boy,\" the townsman told her. \"They're none o\" your concern. Ride on by.\"\n\n\"What did they do?\" she asked him.\n\n\"They put eight people to the sword at Tumbler's Falls,\" he said. \"They wanted the Kingslayer, but he wasn't there so they did some rape and murder.\" He jerked a thumb toward the corpse with maggots where his manhood ought to be. \"That one there did the raping. Now move along.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A swallow,\" the fat one called down. \"Ha' mercy, boy, a swallow.\" The old one slid an arm up to grasp the bars. The motion made his cage swing violently. \"Water,\" gasped the one with the flies in his beard.\n\nShe looked at their filthy hair and scraggly beards and reddened eyes, at their dry, cracked, bleeding lips. Wolves, she thought again. Like me. Was this her pack? How could they be Robb's men? She wanted to hit them. She wanted to hurt them. She wanted to cry. They all seemed to be looking at her, the living and the dead alike. The old man had squeezed three fingers out between the bars. \"Water,\" he said, \"water.\"\n\nArya swung down from her horse. They can't hurt me, they're dying. She took her cup from her bedroll and went to the fountain. \"What do you think you're doing, boy?\" the townsman snapped. \"They're no concern o'yours.\" She raised the cup to the fish's mouth. The water splashed across her fingers and down her sleeve, but Arya did not move until the cup was brimming over. When she turned back toward the cages, the townsman moved to stop her. \"You getaway from them, boy-\"\n\n\"She's a girl,\" said Harwin. \"Leave her be.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Lem. \"Lord Beric don't hold with caging men to die of thirst. Why don't you hang them decent?\"\n\n\"There was nothing decent \"bout them things they did at Tumbler's Falls,\" the townsman growled right back at him.\n\nThe bars were too narrow to pass a cup through, but Harwin and Gendry offered her a leg up. She planted afoot in Harwin's cupped hands, vaulted onto Gendry's shoulders, and grabbed the bars on top of the cage. The fat man turned his face up and pressed his cheek to the iron, and Arya poured the water over him. He sucked at it eagerly and let it rundown over his head and cheeks and hands, and then he licked the dampness off the bars. He would have licked Arya's fingers if she hadn't snatched them back. By the time she served the other two the same, a crowd had gathered to watch her. \"The Mad Huntsman will hear of this,\" a man threatened. \"He won't like it. No, he won't.\""
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"value": "\"He'll like this even less, then.\" Anguy strung his longbow, slid an arrow from his quiver, nocked, drew, loosed. The fat man shuddered as the shaft drove up between his chins, but the cage would not let him fall. Two more arrows ended the other two northmen. The only sound in the market square was the splash of falling water and the buzzing of flies.\n\nValar morghulis, Arya thought.\n\nOn the east side of the market square stood a modest inn with whitewashed walls and broken windows. Half its roof had burnt off recently, but the hole had been patched over. Above the door hung a wooden shingle painted as a peach, with a big bite taken out of it. They dismounted at the stables sitting catty-corner, and Greenbeard bellowed for grooms.\n\nThe buxom red-haired innkeep howled with pleasure at the sight of them, then promptly set to tweaking them. \"Greenbeard, is it? Or Greybeard? Mother take mercy, when did you get so old? Lem, is that you? Still wearing the same ratty cloak, are you? I know why you never wash it, I do. You're afraid all the piss will washout and we'll see you're really a knight o\" the Kingsguard! And Tom o'Sevens, you randy old goat! You come to see that son o\" yours? Well, you're too late, he's off riding with that bloody Huntsman. And don't tell me he's not yours!\"\n\n\"He hasn't got my voice,\" Tom protested weakly.\n\n\"He's got your nose, though. Aye, and t'other parts as well, to hear the girls talk.\" She spied Gendry then, and pinched him on the cheek. \"Look at this fine young ox. Wait till Alyce sees those arms. Oh, and he blushes like a maid, too. Well, Alyce will fix that for you, boy, see if she don't.\""
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya had never seen Gendry turn so red. \"Tansy, you leave the Bull alone, he's a good lad,\" said Tom Sevenstrings. \"All we need from you is safe beds fora night.\"\n\n\"Speak for yourself, singer.\" Anguy slid his arm around a strapping young serving girl as freckly as he was.\n\n\"Beds we got,\" said red-haired Tansy. \"There's never been no lack o\" beds at the Peach. But you'll all climb in a tub first. Last time you lot stayed under my roof you left your fleas behind.\" She poked Greenbeard in the chest. \"And yours was green, too. You want food?\"\n\n\"If you can spare it, we won't say no,\" Tom conceded.\n\n\"Now when did you ever say no to anything, Tom?\" the woman hooted. \"I'll roast some mutton for your friends, and an old dry rat for you. It's more than you deserve, but if you gargle me a song or three, might be I'll weaken. I always pity the afflicted. Come on, come on. Cass, Lanna, put some kettles on. Jyzene, help me get the clothes off them, we'll need to boil those too.\"\n\nShe made good on all her threats. Arya tried to tell them that she'd been bathed twice at Acorn Hall, not a fortnight past, but the red-haired woman was having none of it. Two serving wenches carried her up the stairs bodily, arguing about whether she was a girl or a boy. The one called Helly won, so the other had to fetch the hot water and scrub Arya's back with a stiff bristly brush that almost took her skin off. Then they stole all the clothes that Lady Smallwood had given her and dressed her up like one of Sansa's dolls in linen and lace. But at least when they were done she got to go down and eat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As she satin the common room in her stupid girl clothes, Arya remembered what Syrio Forel had told her, the trick of looking and seeing what was there. When she looked, she saw more serving wenches than any inn could want, and most of them young and comely. And come evenfall, lots of men started coming and going at the Peach. They did not linger long in the common room, not even when Tom took out his woodharp and began to sing'Six Maids in a Pool.\" The wooden steps were old and steep, and creaked something fierce whenever one of the men took a girl upstairs. \"I bet this is a brothel,\" she whispered to Gendry.\n\n\"You don't even know what a brothel is.\"\n\n\"I do so,\" she insisted. \"It's like an inn, with girls.\"\n\nHe was turning red again. \"What are you doing here, then?\" he demanded. \"A brothel's no fit place for no bloody highborn lady, everybody knows that.\"\n\nOne of the girls sat down on the bench beside him. \"Who's a highborn lady? The little skinny one?\" She looked at Arya and laughed. \"I'm a king's daughter myself.\"\n\nArya knew she was being mocked. \"You are not.\"\n\n\"Well, I might be.\" When the girl shrugged, her gown slipped off one shoulder. \"They say King Robert fucked my mother when he hid here, back before the battle. Not that he didn't have all the other girls too, but Leslyn says he liked my ma the best.\"\n\nThe girl did have hairlike the old king's, Arya thought; a great thick mop of it, as black as coal. That doesn't mean anything, though. Gendry has the same kind of hair too. Lots of people have black hair."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'm named Bella,\" the girl told Gendry."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"For the battle. I bet I could ring your bell, too. You want to?\"\n\n\"No,\" he said gruffly.\n\n\"I bet you do.\" She ran a hand along his arm. \"I don't cost nothing to friends of Thoros and the lightning lord.\"\n\n\"No, I said.\" Gendry rose abruptly and stalked away from the table out into the night.\n\nBella turned to Arya. \"Don't he like girls?\"\n\nArya shrugged. \"He's just stupid. He likes to polish helmets and beat on swords with hammers.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Bella tugged her gown back over her shoulder and went to talk with Jack-Be-Lucky. Before long she was sitting in his lap, giggling and drinking wine from his cup. Greenbeard had two girls, one on each knee. Anguy had vanished with his freckle-faced wench, and Lem was gone as well. Tom Sevenstrings sat by the fire, singing. \"The Maids that Bloom in Spring.\" Arya sipped at the cup of watered wine the red-haired woman had allowed her, listening. Across the square the dead men were rotting in their crow cages, but inside the Peach everyone was jolly. Except it seemed to her that some of them were laughing too hard, somehow.\n\nIt would have been a good time to sneak away and steal a horse, but Arya couldn't see how that would help her. She could only ride as far as the city gates. That captain would never let me pass, and if he did, Harwin would come after me, or that Huntsman with his dogs. She wished she had her map, so she could see how far Stoney Sept was from Riverrun.\n\nBy the time her cup was empty, Arya was yawning. Gendry hadn't comeback. Tom Sevenstrings was singing'Two Hearts that Beat as One,\" and kissing a different girl at the end of every verse. In the corner by the window Lem and Harwin sat talking to red-haired Tansy in low voices. \"... spent the night in Jaime's cell,\" she heard the woman say. \"Her and this other wench, the one who slew Renly. All three o' them together, and come the morn Lady Catelyn cut him loose for love.\" She gave a throaty chuckle."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's not true, Arya thought. She never would. She felt sad and angry and lonely, all at once.\n\nAn old man sat down beside her. \"Well, aren't you a pretty little peach?\" His breath smelled near as foul as the dead men in the cages, and his little pig eyes were crawling up and down her. \"Does my sweet peach have a name?\"\n\nFor half a heartbeat she forgot who she was supposed to be. She wasn't any peach, but she couldn't be Arya Stark either, not herewith some smelly drunk she did not know. \"I'm...\"\n\n\"She's my sister.\" Gendry put a heavy hand on the old man's shoulder, and squeezed. \"Leave her be.\"\n\nThe man turned, spoiling fora quarrel, but when he saw Gendry's size he thought better of it. \"Your sister, is she? What kind of brother are you? I'd never bring no sister of mine to the Peach, that I wouldn't.\" He got up from the bench and moved off muttering, in search of anew friend.\n\n\"Why did you say that?\" Arya hopped to her feet. \"You're not my brother.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" he said angrily. \"I'm too bloody lowborn to be kin to m'lady high.\"\n\nArya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. \"That's not the way I meant it.\"\n\n\"Yes it is.\" He sat down on the bench, cradling a cup of wine between his hands. \"Go away. I want to drink this wine in peace. Then maybe I'll go find that black-haired girl and ring her bell for her.\"\n\n\"But...\"\n\n\"I said, go away. M'lady.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya whirled and left him there. A stupid bullheaded bastard boy, that's all he is. He could ring all the bells he wanted, it was nothing to her.\n\nTheir sleeping room was at the top of the stairs, under the eaves. Maybe the Peach had no lack of beds, but there was only one to spare for the likes of them. It was a big bed, though. It filled the whole room, just about, and the musty straw-stuffed mattress looked large enough for all of them. Just now, though, she had it to herself. Her real clothes were hanging from a peg on the wall, between Gendry's stuff and Lem's. Arya took off the linen and lace, pulled her tunic over her head, climbed up into the bed, and burrowed under the blankets. \"Queen Cersei,\" she whispered into the pillow. \"King Joffrey, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn. Dunsen, Raff, and Polliver. The Tickler, the Hound, and Ser Gregor the Mountain.\" She liked to mix up the order of the names sometimes. It helped her remember who they were and what they'd done. Maybe some of them are dead, she thought. Maybe they're in iron cages someplace, and the crows are picking out their eyes.\n\nSleep came as quick as she closed her eyes. She dreamed of wolves that night, stalking through a wet wood with the smell of rain and rot and blood thick in the air. Only they were good smells in the dream, and Arya knew she had nothing to fear. She was strong and swift and fierce, and her pack was all around her, her brothers and her sisters. They ran down a frightened horse together, tore its throat out, and feasted. And when the moon broke through the clouds, she threw back her head and howled."
},
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"value": "But when the day came, she woke to the barking of dogs.\n\nArya sat up yawning. Gendry was stirring on her left and Lem Lemoncloak snoring loudly to her right, but the baying outside all but drowned him out. There must behalf a hundred dogs out there. She crawled from under the blankets and hopped over Lem, Tom, and Jack-Be-Lucky to the window. When she opened the shutters wide, wind and wet and cold all came flooding in together. The day was grey and overcast. Down below, in the square, the dogs were barking, running in circles, growling and howling. There was a pack of them, great black mastiffs and lean wolfhounds and black-and-white sheepdogs and kinds Arya did not know, shaggy brindled beasts with long yellow teeth. Between the inn and the fountain, a dozen riders sat astride their horses, watching the townsmen open the fat man's cage and tug his arm until his swollen corpse spilled out onto the ground. The dogs were at him at once, tearing chunks of flesh off his bones.\n\nArya heard one of the riders laugh. \"Here's your new castle, you bloody Lannister bastard,\" he said. \"A little snug for the likes o\" you, but we'll squeeze you in, never fret.\" Beside him a prisoner sat sullen, with coils of hempen rope tight around his wrists. Some of the townsmen were throwing dung at him, but he never flinched. \"You'll rot in them cages,\" his captor was shouting. \"The crows will be picking out your eyes while we're spending all that good Lannister gold o\" yours! And when them crows are done, we'll send what's left o'you to your bloody brother. Though I doubt he'll know you.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The noise had woken half the Peach. Gendry squeezed into the window beside Arya, and Tom stepped up behind them naked as his name day. \"What's all that bloody shouting?\" Lem complained from bed. \"A man's trying to get some bloody sleep.\"\n\n\"Where's Greenbeard?\" Tom asked him.\n\n\"Abed with Tansy,\" Lem said. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Best find him. Archer too. The Mad Huntsman's comeback, with another man for the cages.\"\n\n\"Lannister,\" said Arya. \"I heard him say Lannister.\"\n\n\"Have they caught the Kingslayer?\" Gendry wanted to know.\n\nDown in the square, a thrown stone caught the captive on the cheek, turning his head. Not the Kingslayer, Arya thought, when she saw his face. The gods had heard her prayers after all."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JON\n\nGhost was gone when the wildings led their horses from the cave. Did he understand about Castle Black? Jon took a breath of the crisp morning air and allowed himself to hope. The eastern sky was pink near the horizon and pale grey higher up. The Sword of the Morning still hung in the south, the bright white star in its hilt blazing like a diamond in the dawn, but the blacks and greys of the darkling forest were turning once again to greens and golds, reds and russets. And above the soldier pines and oaks and ash and sentinels stood the Wall, the ice pale and glimmering beneath the dust and dirt that pocked its surface.\n\nThe Magnar sent a dozen men riding west and a dozen more east, to climb the highest hills they could find and watch for any sign of rangers in the wood or riders on the high ice. The Thenns carried bronze-banded warhorns to give warning should the Watch be sighted. The other wildlings fell in behind Jarl, Jon and Ygritte with the rest. This was to be the young raider's hour of glory.\n\nThe Wall was often said to stand seven hundred feet high, but Jarl had found a place where it was both higher and lower. Before them, the ice rose sheer from out of the trees like some immense cliff, crowned by wind-carved battlements that loomed at least eight hundred feet high, perhaps nine hundred in spots. But that was deceptive, Jon realized as they drew closer. Brandon the Builder had laid his huge foundation blocks along the heights wherever feasible, and hereabouts the hills rose wild and rugged.\n\nHe had once heard his uncle Benjen say that the Wall was a sword east of Castle Black, but a snake to the west. It was true. Sweeping in over one huge humped hill, the ice dipped down into a valley, climbed the knife edge of along granite ridgeline fora league or more, ran along a jagged crest, dipped again into a valley deeper still, and then rose higher and higher, leaping from hill to hill as far as the eye could see, into the mountainous west."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jarl had chosen to assault the stretch of ice along the ridge. Here, though the top of the Wall loomed eight hundred feet above the forest floor, a good third of that height was earth and stone rather than ice; the slope was too steep for their horses, almost as difficult a scramble as the Fist of the First Men, but still vastly easier to ascend than the sheer vertical face of the Wall itself. And the ridge was densely wooded as well, offering easy concealment. Once brothers in black had gone out everyday with axes to cutback the encroaching trees, but those days were long past, and here the forest grew right up to the ice.\n\nThe day promised to be damp and cold, and damper and colder by the Wall, beneath those tons of ice. The closer they got, the more the Thenns held back. They have never seen the Wall before, not even the Magnar, Jon realized. It frightens them. In the Seven Kingdoms it was said that the Wall marked the end of the world. That is true for them as well. It was all in where you stood.\n\nAnd where do I stand? Jon did not know. To stay with Ygritte, he would need to become a wildling heart and soul. If he abandoned her to return to his duty, the Magnar might cut her heart out. And if he took her with him... assuming she would go, which was far from certain... well, he could scarcely bring her back to Castle Black to live among the brothers. A deserter and a wildling could expect no welcome anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. We could go look for Gendel's children, I suppose. Though they'd be more like to eat us than to take us in.\n\nThe Wall did not awe Jarl's raiders, Jon saw. They have done this before, every man of them. Jarl called out names when they dismounted beneath the ridge, and eleven gathered round him. All were young. The oldest could not have been more than five-and-twenty, and two of the ten were younger than Jon. Everyone was lean and hard, though; they had a look of sinewy strength that reminded him of Stonesnake, the brother the Halfhand had sent off afoot when Rattleshirt was hunting them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the very shadow of the Wall the wildlings made ready, winding thick coils of hempen rope around one shoulder and down across their chests, and lacing on queer boots of supple doeskin. The boots had spikes jutting from the toes; iron, for Jarl and two others, bronze for some, but most often jagged bone. Small stone-headed hammers hung from one hip, a leathern bag of stakes from the other. Their ice axes were antlers with sharpened tines, bound to wooden hafts with strips of hide. The eleven climbers sorted themselves into three teams of four; Jarl himself made the twelfth man. \"Mance promises swords for every man of the first team to reach the top,\" he told them, his breath misting in the cold air. \"Southron swords of castle-forged steel. And your name in the song he'll make of this, that too. What more could a freeman ask? Up, and the Others take the hindmost!\"\n\nThe Others take them all, thought Jon, as he watched them scramble up the steep slope of the ridge and vanish beneath the trees. It would not be the first time wildlings had scaled the Wall, not even the hundred and first. The patrols stumbled on climbers two or three times a year, and rangers sometimes came on the broken corpses of those who had fallen. Along the east coast the raiders most often built boats to slip across the Bay of Seals. In the west they would descend into the black depths of the Gorge to make their way around the Shadow Tower. But in between the only way to defeat the Wall was to go over it, and many a raider had. Fewer comeback, though, he thought with a certain grim pride. Climbers must of necessity leave their mounts behind, and many younger, greener raiders began by taking the first horses they found. Then a hue and cry would go up, ravens would fly, and as often as not the Night's Watch would hunt them down and hang them before they could get back with their plunder and stolen women. Jarl would not make that mistake, Jon knew, but he wondered about Styr. The Magnar is a ruler, not a raider. He may not know how the game is played."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Serve as the author's scribe, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 32"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the very shadow of the Wall the wildlings made ready, winding thick coils of hempen rope around one shoulder and down across their chests, and lacing on queer boots of supple doeskin. The boots had spikes jutting from the toes; iron, for Jarl and two others, bronze for some, but most often jagged bone. Small stone-headed hammers hung from one hip, a leathern bag of stakes from the other. Their ice axes were antlers with sharpened tines, bound to wooden hafts with strips of hide. The eleven climbers sorted themselves into three teams of four; Jarl himself made the twelfth man. \"Mance promises swords for every man of the first team to reach the top,\" he told them, his breath misting in the cold air. \"Southron swords of castle-forged steel. And your name in the song he'll make of this, that too. What more could a freeman ask? Up, and the Others take the hindmost!\"\n\nThe Others take them all, thought Jon, as he watched them scramble up the steep slope of the ridge and vanish beneath the trees. It would not be the first time wildlings had scaled the Wall, not even the hundred and first. The patrols stumbled on climbers two or three times a year, and rangers sometimes came on the broken corpses of those who had fallen. Along the east coast the raiders most often built boats to slip across the Bay of Seals. In the west they would descend into the black depths of the Gorge to make their way around the Shadow Tower. But in between the only way to defeat the Wall was to go over it, and many a raider had. Fewer comeback, though, he thought with a certain grim pride. Climbers must of necessity leave their mounts behind, and many younger, greener raiders began by taking the first horses they found. Then a hue and cry would go up, ravens would fly, and as often as not the Night's Watch would hunt them down and hang them before they could get back with their plunder and stolen women. Jarl would not make that mistake, Jon knew, but he wondered about Styr. The Magnar is a ruler, not a raider. He may not know how the game is played."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"There they are,\" Ygritte said, and Jon glanced up to seethe first climber emerge above the treetops."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was Jarl. He had found a sentinel tree that leaned against the Wall, and led his men up the trunk to get a quicker start. The wood should never have been allowed to creep so close. They're three hundred feet up, and they haven't touched the ice itself yet.\n\nHe watched the wildling move carefully from wood to Wall, hacking out a handhold with short sharp blows of his ice axe, then swinging over. The rope around his waist tied him to the second man inline, still edging up the tree. Step by slow step, Jarl moved higher, kicking out toeholds with his spiked boots when there were no natural ones to be found. When he was ten feet above the sentinel, he stopped upon a narrow icy ledge, slung his axe from his belt, took out his hammer, and drove an iron stake into a cleft. The second man moved onto the Wall behind him while the third was scrambling to the top of the tree.\n\nThe other two teams had no happily placed trees to give them a leg up, and before long the Thenns were wondering whether they had gotten lost climbing the ridge. Jarl's party were all on the Wall and eighty feet up before the leading climbers from the other groups came into view. The teams were spaced a good twenty yards apart. Jarl's four were in the center. To the right of them was a team headed up by Grigg the Goat, whose long blond braid made him easy to spot from below. To the left a very thin man named Errok led the climbers.\n\n\"So slow,\" the Magnar complained loudly, as he watched them edge their way upward. \"Has he forgotten the crows? He should climb faster, afore we are discovered.\"\n\nJon had to hold his tongue. He remembered the Skirling Pass all too well, and the moonlight climb he'd made with Stonesnake. He had swallowed his heart a half-dozen times that night, and by the end his arms and legs had been aching and his fingers were half frozen. And that was stone, notice. Stone was solid. Ice was treacherous stuff at the best of times, and on a day like this, when the Wall was weeping, the warmth of a climber's hand might be enough to melt it. The huge blocks could be frozen rock-hard inside, but their outer surface would be slick, with runnels of water trickling down, and patches of rotten ice where the air had gotten in. Whatever else the wildlings are, they're brave."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All the same, Jon found himself hoping that Styr's fears proved well founded. If the gods are good, a patrol will chance by and put an end to this. \"No wall can keep you safe,\" his father had told him once, as they walked the walls of Winterfall. \"A wall is only as strong as the men who defend it.\" The wildlings might have a hundred and twenty men, but four defenders would be enough to see them off, with a few well-placed arrows and perhaps a pail of stones.\n\nNo defenders appeared, however; not four, not even one. The sun climbed the sky and the wildlings climbed the Wall. Jarl's four remained well ahead till noon, when they hit a pitch of bad ice. Jarl had looped his rope around a wind-carved pinnace and was using it to support his weight when the whole jagged thing suddenly crumbled and came crashing down, and him with it. Chunks of ice as big as a man's head bombarded the three below, but they clung to the handholds and the stakes held, and Jarl jerked to a sudden halt at the end of the rope.\n\nBy the time his team had recovered from that mischance, Grigg the Goat had almost drawn even with them. Errok's four remained well behind. The face where they were climbing looked smooth and unpitted, covered with a sheet of icemelt that glistened wetly where the sun brushed it. Grigg's section was darker to the eye, with more obvious features; long horizontal ledges where a block had been imperfectly positioned atop the block below, cracks and crevices, even chimneys along the vertical joins, where wind and water had eaten holes large enough fora man to hide in.\n\nJarl soon had his men edging upward again. His four and Grigg's moved almost side by side, with Errok's fifty feet below. Deerhorn axes chopped and hacked, sending showers of glittery shards cascading down onto the trees. Stone hammers pounded stakes deep into the ice to serve as anchors for the ropes; the iron stakes ran out before they were halfway up, and after that the climbers used horn and sharpened bone. And the men kicked, driving the spikes on their boots against the hard unyielding ice again and again and again and again to make one foothold. Their legs must benumb, Jon thought by the fourth hour. How long can they keep on with that? He watched as restless as the Magnar, listening for the distant moan of a Thenn warhorn. But the horns stayed silent, and there was no sign of the Night's Watch."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "By the sixth hour, Jarl had moved ahead of Grigg the Goat again, and his men were widening the gap. \"The Mance's pet must want a sword,\" the Magnar said, shading his eyes. The sun was high in the sky, and the upper third of the Wall was a crystalline blue from below, reflecting so brilliantly that it hurt the eyes to look on it. Jarl's four and Grigg's were all but lost in the glare, though Errok's team was still in shadow. Instead of moving upward they were edging their way sideways at about five hundred feet, making fora chimney. Jon was watching them inch along when he heard the sound-a sudden crack that seemed to roll along the ice, followed by a shout of alarm. And then the air was full of shards and shrieks and falling men, as a sheet of ice afoot thick and fifty feet square broke off from the Wall and came tumbling, crumbling, rumbling, sweeping all before it. Even down at the foot of the ridge, some chunks came spinning through the trees and rolling down the slope. Jon grabbed Ygritte and pulled her down to shield her, and one of the Thenns was struck in the face by a chunk that broke his nose.\n\nAnd when they looked up Jarl and his team were gone. Men, ropes, stakes, all gone; nothing remained above six hundred feet. There was a wound in the Wall where the climbers had clung half a heartbeat before, the ice within as smooth and white as polished marble and shining in the sun. Far far below there was a faint red smear where someone had smashed against a frozen pinnace.\n\nThe Wall defends itself, Jon thought as he pulled Ygritte back to her feet.\n\nThey found Jarl in a tree, impaled upon a splintered branch and still roped to the three men who lay broken beneath him. One was still alive, but his legs and spine were shattered, and most of his ribs as well. \"Mercy,\" he said when they came upon him. One of the Thenns smashed his head in with a big stone mace. The Magnar gave orders, and his men began to gather fuel fora pyre."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The dead were burning when Grigg the Goat reached the top of the Wall."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "By the time Errok's four had joined them, nothing remained of Jarl and his team but bone and ash.\n\nThe sun had begun to sink by then, so the climbers wasted little time. They unwound the long coils of hemp they'd had looped around their chests, tied them all together, and tossed down one end. The thought of trying to climb five hundred feet up that rope filled Jon with dread, but Mance had planned better than that. The raiders Jarl had left below uncasked a huge ladder, with rungs of woven hemp as thick as a man's arm, and tied it to the climbers' rope. Errok and Grigg and their men grunted and heaved, pulled it up, staked it to the top, then lowered the rope again to haul up a second ladder. There were five altogether.\n\nWhen all of them were in place, the Magnar shouted a brusque command in the Old Tongue, and five of his Thenns started up together. Even with the ladders, it was no easy climb. Ygritte watched them struggle fora while. \"I hate this Wall,\" she said in a low angry voice. \"Can you feel how cold it is?\"\n\n\"It's made of ice,\" Jon pointed out.\n\n\"You know nothing, Jon Snow. This wall is made o' blood.\"\n\nNor had it drunk its fill. By sunset, two of the Thenns had fallen from the ladder to their deaths, but they were the last. It was near midnight before Jon reached the top. The stars were out again, and Ygritte was trembling from the climb. \"I almost fell,\" she said, with tears in her eyes. \"Twice. Thrice. The Wall was trying t' shake me off, I could feel it.\" One of the tears broke free and trickled slowly down her cheek."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The worst is behind us.\" Jon tried to sound confident. \"Don't be frightened.\" He tried to put an arm around her.\n\nYgritte slammed the heel of her hand into his chest, so hard it stung even through his layers of wool, mail, and boiled leather. \"I wasn't frightened. You know nothing, Jon Snow.\"\n\n\"Why are you crying, then?\"\n\n\"Not for fear!\" She kicked savagely at the ice beneath her with a heel, chopping out a chunk. \"I'm crying because we never found the Horn of Winter. We opened half a hundred graves and let all those shades loose in the world, and never found the Horn of Joramun to bring this cold thing down!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nHis hand burned.\n\nStill, still, long after they had snuffed out the torch they'd used to sear his bloody stump, days after, he could still feel the fire lancing up his arm, and his fingers twisting in the flames, the fingers he no longer had.\n\nHe had taken wounds before, but never like this. He had never known there could be such pain. Sometimes, unbidden, old prayers bubbled from his lips, prayers he learned as a child and never thought of since, prayers he had first prayed with Cersei kneeling beside him in the sept at Casterly Rock. Sometimes he even wept, until he heard the Mummers laughing. Then he made his eyes go dry and his heart go dead, and prayed for his fever to burn away his tears. Now I know how Tyrion has felt, all those times they laughed at him.\n\nAfter the second time he fell from the saddle, they bound him tight to Brienne of Tarth and made them share a horse again. One day, instead of back to front, they bound them face-to-face. \"The lovers,\" Shagwell sighed loudly, \"and what a lovely sight they are. 'Twould be cruel to separate the good knight and his lady.\" Then he laughed that high shrill laugh of his, and said, \"Ah, but which one is the knight and which one is the lady?\"\n\nIf I had my hand, you'd learn that soon enough, Jaime thought. His arms ached and his legs were numb from the ropes, but after awhile none of that mattered. His world shrunk to the throb of agony that was his phantom hand, and Brienne pressed against him. She's warm, at least, he consoled himself, though the wench's breath was as foul as his own."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His hand was always between them."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Urswyck had hung it about his neck on a cord, so it dangled down against his chest, slapping Brienne's breasts as Jaime slipped in and out of consciousness. His right eye was swollen shut, the wound inflamed where Brienne had cut him during their fight, but it was his hand that hurt the most. Blood and pus seeped from his stump, and the missing hand throbbed every time the horse took a step.\n\nHis throat was so raw that he could not eat, but he drank wine when they gave it to him, and water when that was all they offered. Once they handed him a cup and he quaffed it straightaway, trembling, and the Brave Companions burst into laughter so loud and harsh it hurt his ears. \"That's horse piss you're drinking, Kingslayer,\" Rorge told him. Jaime was so thirsty he drank it anyway, but afterward he retched it all backup. They made Brienne wash the vomit out of his beard, just as they made her clean him up when he soiled himself in the saddle.\n\nOne damp cold morning when he was feeling slightly stronger, a madness took hold of him and he reached for the Dornishman's sword with his left hand and wrenched it clumsily from its scabbard. Let them kill me, he thought, so long as I die fighting, a blade in hand. But it was no good. Shagwell came hopping from leg to leg, dancing nimbly aside when Jaime slashed at him. Unbalanced, he staggered forward, hacking wildly at the fool, but Shagwell spun and ducked and darted until all the Mummers were laughing at Jaime's futile efforts to land a blow. When he tripped over a rock and stumbled to his knees, the fool leapt in and planted a wet kiss atop his head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Rorge finally flung him aside and kicked the sword from Jaime's feeble fingers as he tried to bring it up."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That wath amuthing, Kingthlayer,\" said Vargo Hoat, \"but if you try it again, I thall take your other hand, or perhapth afoot.\"\n\nJaime lay on his back afterward, staring at the night sky, trying not to feel the pain that snaked up his right arm every time he moved it. The night was strangely beautiful. The moon was a graceful crescent, and it seemed as though he had never seen so many stars. The King's Crown was at the zenith, and he could seethe Stallion rearing, and there the Swan. The Moonmaid, shy as ever, was half-hidden behind a pine tree. How can such a night be beautiful? he asked himself. Why would the stars want to look down on such as me?\n\n\"Jaime,\" Brienne whispered, so faintly he thought he was dreaming it. \"Jaime, what are you doing?\"\n\n\"Dying,\" he whispered back.\n\n\"No,\" she said, \"no, you must live.\"\n\nHe wanted to laugh. \"Stop telling me what do, wench. I'll die if it pleases me.\"\n\n\"Are you so craven?\"\n\nThe word shocked him. He was Jaime Lannister, a knight of the Kingsguard, he was the Kingslayer. No man had ever called him craven. Other things they called him, yes; oathbreaker, liar, murderer. They said he was cruel, treacherous, reckless. But never craven. \"What else can I do, but die?\"\n\n\"Live,\" she said, \"live, and fight, and take revenge.\" But she spoke too loudly. Rorge heard her voice, if not her words, and came over to kick her, shouting at her to hold her bloody tongue if she wanted to keep it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Craven, Jaime thought, as Brienne fought to stifle her moans. Can it be? They took my sword hand. Was that all I was, a sword hand? Gods be good, is it true?\n\nThe wench had the right of it. He could not die. Cersei was waiting for him. She would have need of him. And Tyrion, his little brother, who loved him fora lie. And his enemies were waiting too; the Young Wolf who had beaten him in the Whispering Wood and killed his men around him, Edmure Tully who had kept him in darkness and chains, these Brave Companions.\n\nWhen morning came, he made himself eat. They fed him a mush of oats, horse food, but he forced down every spoon. He ate again at evenfall, and the next day. Live, he told himself harshly, when the mush was like to gag him, live for Cersei, live for Tyrion. Live for vengeance. A Lannister always pays his debts. His missing hand throbbed and burned and stank. When I reach King's Landing I'll have anew hand forged, a golden hand, and one day I'll use it to rip out Vargo Hoat's throat.\n\nThe days and the nights blurred together in a haze of pain. He would sleep in the saddle, pressed against Brienne, his nose full of the stink of his rotting hand, and then at night he would lie awake on the hard ground, caught in awaking nightmare. Weak as he was, they always bound him to a tree. It gave him some cold consolation to know that they feared him that much, even now.\n\nBrienne was always bound beside him. She lay therein her bonds like a big dead cow, saying not a word. The wench has built a fortress inside herself. They will rape her soon enough, but behind her walls they cannot touch her. But Jaime's walls were gone. They had taken his hand, they had taken his sword hand, and without it he was nothing. The other was no good to him. Since the time he could walk, his left arm had been his shield arm, no more. It was his right hand that made him a knight; his right arm that made him a man."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One day, he heard Urswyck say something about Harrenhal, and remembered that was to be their destination. That made him laugh aloud, and that made Timeon slash his face with along thin whip. The cut bled, but beside his hand he scarcely felt it. \"Why did you laugh?\" the wench asked him that night, in a whisper.\n\n\"Harrenhal was where they gave me the white cloak,\" he whispered back. \"Whent's great tourney. He wanted to show us all his big castle and his fine sons. I wanted to show them too. I was only fifteen, but no one could have beaten me that day. Aerys never let me joust.\" He laughed again. \"He sent me away. But now I'm coming back.\"\n\nThey heard the laugh. That night it was Jaime who got the kicks and punches. He hardly felt them either, until Rorge slammed a boot into his stump, and then he fainted.\n\nIt was the next night when they finally came, three of the worst; Shagwell, noseless Rorge, and the fat Dothraki Zollo, the one who'd cut his hand off. Zollo and Rorge were arguing about who would go first as they approached; there seemed to be no question but that the fool would be going last. Shagwell suggested that they should both go first, and take her front and rear. Zollo and Rorge liked that notion, only then they began to fight about who would get the front and who the rear.\n\nThey will leave her a cripple too, but inside, where it does not show. \"Wench,\" he whispered as Zollo and Rorge were cursing one another, \"let them have the meat, and you go faraway. It will be over quicker, and they'll get less pleasure from it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They'll get no pleasure from what I'll give them,\" she whispered back, defiant.\n\nStupid stubborn brave bitch. She was going to get herself good and killed, he knew it. And what do I care if she does? If she hadn't been so pigheaded, I'd still have a hand. Yet he heard himself whisper, \"Let them do it, and go away inside.\" That was what he'd done, when the Starks had died before him, Lord Rickard cooking in his armor while his son Brandon strangled himself trying to save him. \"Think of Renly, if you loved him. Think of Tarth, mountains and seas, pools, waterfalls, whatever you have on your Sapphire Isle, think...\"\n\nBut Rorge had won the argument by then. \"You're the ugliest woman I ever seen,\" he told Brienne, \"but don't think I can't make you uglier. You want a nose like mine? Fight me, and you'll get one. And two eyes, that's too many. One scream out o\" you, and I'll pop one out and make you eat it, and then I'll pull your fucking teeth out one by one.\"\n\n\"Oh, do it, Rorge,\" pleaded Shagwell. \"Without her teeth, she'll look just like my dear old mother.\" He cackled. \"And I always wanted to fuck my dear old mother up the arse.\"\n\nJaime chuckled. \"There's a funny fool. I have a riddle for you, Shagwell. Why do you care if she screams? Oh, wait, I know.\" He shouted, \"SAPPHIRES,\" as loudly as he could.\n\nCursing, Rorge kicked at his stump again. Jaime howled. I never knew there was such agony in the world, was the last thing he remembered thinking. It was hard to say how long he was gone, but when the pain spit him out, Urswyck was there, and Vargo Hoat himself. \"Thee'th not to be touched,\" the goat screamed, spraying spittle allover Zollo. \"Thee hath to be a maid, you foolth! Thee'th worth a bag of thapphireth!\" And from then on, every night Hoat put guards on them, to protect them from his own."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Two nights passed in silence before the wench finally found the courage to whisper, \"Jaime? Why did you shout out?\"\n\n\"Why did I shout'sapphires,\" you mean? Use your wits, wench. Would this lot have cared if I shouted'rape\" ?\"\n\n\"You did not need to shout at all.\"\n\n\"You're hard enough to look at with a nose. Besides, I wanted to make the goat say'thapphireth. \"\" He chuckled. \"A good thing for you I'm such a liar. An honorable man would have told the truth about the Sapphire Isle.\"\n\n\"All the same,\" she said. \"I thank you, ser.\"\n\nHis hand was throbbing again. He ground his teeth and said, \"A Lannister pays his debts. That was for the river, and those rocks you dropped on Robin Ryger.\"\n\nThe goat wanted to make a show of parading him in, so Jaime was made to dismount a mile from the gates of Harrenhal. A rope was looped around his waist, a second around Brienne's wrists; the ends were tied to the pommel of Vargo Hoat's saddle. They stumbled alongside by side behind the Qohorik's striped zorse.\n\nJaime's rage kept him walking. The linen that covered the stump was grey and stinking with pus. His phantom fingers screamed with every step. I am stronger than they know, he told himself. I am still a Lannister. I am still a knight of the Kingsguard. He would reach Harrenhal, and then King's Landing. He would live. And I will pay this debt with interest.\n\nAs they approached the clifflike walls of Black Harren's monstrous castle, Brienne squeezed his arm. \"Lord Bolton holds this castle. The Boltons are bannermen to the Starks.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Boltons skin their enemies.\" Jaime remembered that much about the northman. Tyrion would have known all there was to know about the Lord of the Dreadfort, but Tyrion was a thousand leagues away, with Cersei. I cannot die while Cersei lives, he told himself. We will die together as we were born together.\n\nThe castleton outside the walls had been burned to ash and blackened stone, and many men and horses had recently encamped beside the lakeshore, where Lord Whent had staged his great tourney in the year of the false spring. A bitter smile touched Jaime's lips as they crossed that torn ground. Someone had dug a privy trench in the very spot where he'd once knelt before the king to say his vows. I never dreamed how quick the sweet would turn to sour. Aerys would not even let me savor that one night. He honored me, and then he spat on me.\n\n\"The banners,\" Brienne observed. \"Flayed man and twin towers, see. King Robb's sworn men. There, above the gatehouse, grey on white. They fly the direwolf.\"\n\nJaime twisted his head upward fora look. \"That's your bloody wolf, true enough,\" he granted her. \"And those are heads to either side of it.\"\n\nSoldiers, servants, and camp followers gathered to hoot at them. A spotted bitch followed them through the camps barking and growling until one of the Lyseni impaled heron a lance and galloped to the front of the column. \"I am bearing Kingslayer's banner,\" he shouted, shaking the dead dog above Jaime's head.\n\nThe walls of Harrenhal were so thick that passing beneath them was like passing through a stone tunnel. Vargo Hoat had sent two of his Dothraki ahead to inform Lord Bolton of their coming, so the outer ward was full of the curious. They gave way as Jaime staggered past, the rope around his waist jerking and pulling at him whenever he slowed. \"I give you the Kingthlayer,\" Vargo Hoat proclaimed in that thick slobbery voice of his. A spear jabbed at the small of Jaime's back, sending him sprawling."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Instinct made him putout his hands to stop his fall. When his stump smashed against the ground the pain was blinding, yet somehow he managed to fight his way back to one knee. Before him, a flight of broad stone steps led up to the entrance of one of Harrenhal's colossal round towers. Five knights and a northman stood looking down on him; the one paleeyed in wool and fur, the five fierce in mail and plate, with the twin towers sigil on their surcoats. \"A fury of Freys,\" Jaime declared. \"Ser Danwell, Ser Aenys, Ser Hosteen.\" He knew Lord Walder's sons by sight; his aunt had married one, after all. \"You have my condolences.\"\n\n\"For what, ser?\" Ser Danwell Frey asked.\n\n\"Your brother's son, Ser Cleos,\" said Jaime. \"He was with us until outlaws filled him full of arrows. Urswyck and this lot took his goods and left him for the wolves.\"\n\n\"My lords!\" Brienne wrenched herself free and pushed forward. \"I saw your banners. Hear me for your oath!\"\n\n\"Who speaks?\" demanded Ser Aenys Frey.\n\n\"Lannither'th wet nurth.\"\n\n\"I am Brienne of Tarth, daughter to Lord Selwyn the Evenstar, and sworn to House Stark even as you are.\"\n\nSer Aenys spit at her feet. \"That's for your oaths. We trusted the word of Robb Stark, and he repaid our faith with betrayal.\"\n\nNow this is interesting. Jaime twisted to see how Brienne might take the accusation, but the wench was as singleminded as a mule with a bit between his teeth. \"I know of no betrayal.\" She chafed at the ropes around her wrists. \"Lady Catelyn commanded me to deliver Lannister to his brother at King's Landing-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She was trying to drown him when we found them,\" said Urswyck the Faithful.\n\nShe reddened. \"In anger I forgot myself, but I would never have killed him. If he dies the Lannisters will put my lady's daughters to the sword.\"\n\nSer Aenys was unmoved. \"Why should that trouble us?\"\n\n\"Ransom him back to Riverrun,\" urged Ser Danwell.\n\n\"Casterly Rock has more gold,\" one brother objected.\n\n\"Kill him!\" said another. \"His head for Ned Stark's!\"\n\nShagwell the Fool somersaulted to the foot of the steps in his grey and pink motley and began to sing. \"There once was a lion who danced with a bear, oh my, oh my...\"\n\n\"Thilenth, fool.\" Vargo Hoat cuffed the man. \"The Kingthlayer ith not for the bear. He ith mine.\"\n\n\"He is no one's should he die.\" Roose Bolton spoke so softly that men quieted to hear him. \"And pray recall, my lord, you are not master of Harrenhal till I march north.\"\n\nFever made Jaime as fearless as he was lightheaded. \"Can this be the Lord of the Dreadfort? When last I heard, my father had sent you scampering off with your tail betwixt your legs. When did you stop running, my lord?\"\n\nBolton's silence was a hundred times more threatening than Vargo Hoat's slobbering malevolence. Pale as morning mist, his eyes concealed more than they told. Jaime misliked those eyes. They reminded him of the day at King's Landing when Ned Stark had found him seated on the Iron Throne. The Lord of the Dreadfort finally pursed his lips and said, \"You have lost a hand.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" said Jaime, \"I have it here, hanging round my neck.\"\n\nRoose Bolton reached down, snapped the cord, and flung the hand at Hoat. \"Take this away. The sight of it offends me.\"\n\n\"I will thend it to hith lord father. I will tell him he muth pay one hundred thouthand dragonth, or we thall return the Kingthlayer to him pieth by pieth. And when we hath hith gold, we thall deliver Ther Jaime to Karthark, and collect a maiden too!\" A roar of laughter went up from the Brave Companions.\n\n\"A fine plan,\" said Roose Bolton, the same way he might say, \"A fine wine,\" to a dinner companion, \"though Lord Karstark will not be giving you his daughter. King Robb has shortened him by ahead, for treason and murder. As to Lord Tywin, he remains at King's Landing, and there he will stay till the new year, when his grandson takes for bride a daughter of Highgarden.\"\n\n\"Winterfell,\" said Brienne. \"You mean Winterfell. King Joffrey is betrothed to Sansa Stark.\"\n\n\"No longer. The Battle of the Blackwater changed all. The rose and the lion joined there, to shatter Stannis Baratheon's host and burn his fleet to ashes.\"\n\nI warned you, Urswyck, Jaime thought, and you, goat. When you bet against the lions, you lose more than your purse. \"Is there word of my sister?\" he asked.\n\n\"She is well. As is your... nephew.\" Bolton paused before he said nephew, a pause that said I know. \"Your brother also lives, though he took a wound in the battle.\" He beckoned to a dour northman in a studded brigantine. \"Escort Ser Jaime to Qyburn. And unbind this woman's hands.\" As the rope between Brienne's wrists was slashed in two, he said, \"Pray forgive us, my lady. In such troubled times it is hard to know friend from foe.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Brienne rubbed inside her wrist where the hemp had scraped her skin bloody. \"My lord, these men tried to rape me.\"\n\n\"Did they?\" Lord Bolton turned his pale eyes on Vargo Hoat. \"I am displeased. By that, and this of Ser Jaime's hand.\"\n\nThere were five northmen and as many Freys in the yard for every Brave Companion. The goat might not be as clever as some, but he could count that high at least. He held his tongue.\n\n\"They took my sword,\" Brienne said, \"my armor...\"\n\n\"You shall have no need of armor here, my lady,\" Lord Bolton told her. \"In Harrenhal, you are under my protection. Amabel, find suitable rooms for the Lady Brienne. Walton, you will see to Ser Jaime at once.\" He did not wait for an answer, but turned and climbed the steps, his fur-trimmed cloak swirling behind. Jaime had only enough time to exchange a quick look with Brienne before they were marched away, separately.\n\nIn the maester's chambers beneath the rookery, a grey-haired, fatherly man named Qyburn sucked in his breath when he cutaway the linen from the stump of Jaime's hand.\n\n\"That bad? Will I die?\"\n\nQyburn pushed at the wound with a finger, and wrinkled his nose at the gush of pus. \"No. Though in a few more days...\" He sliced away Jaime's sleeve. \"The corruption has spread. See how tender the flesh is? I must cut it all away. The safest course would be to take the arm off.\"\n\n\"Then you'll die,\" Jaime promised. \"Clean the stump and sew it up. I'll take my chances.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Qyburn frowned. \"I can leave you the upper arm, make the cut at your elbow, but...\"\n\n\"Take any part of my arm, and you'd best chop off the other one as well, or I'll strangle you with it afterward.\"\n\nQyburn looked in his eyes. Whatever he saw there gave him pause. \"Very well. I will cutaway the rotten flesh, no more. Try to burnout the corruption with boiling wine and a poultice of nettle, mustard seed, and bread mold. Mayhaps that will suffice. It is on your head. You will want milk of the poppy-\"\n\n\"No.\" Jaime dare not let himself be put to sleep; he might be short an arm when he woke, no matter what the man said.\n\nQyburn was taken aback. \"There will be pain.\"\n\n\"I'll scream.\"\n\n\"A great deal of pain.\"\n\n\"I'll scream very loudly.\"\n\n\"Will you take some wine at least?\"\n\n\"Does the High Septon ever pray?\"\n\n\"Of that I am not certain. I shall bring the wine. Lie back, I must needs strap down your arm.\"\n\nWith a bowl and a sharp blade, Qyburn cleaned the stump while Jaime gulped down strongwine, spilling it allover himself in the process. His left hand did not seem to know how to find his mouth, but there was something to be said for that. The smell of wine in his sodden beard helped disguise the stench of pus.\n\nNothing helped when the time came to pare away the rotten flesh. Jaime did scream then, and pounded his table with his good fist, over and over and over again. He screamed again when Qyburn poured boiling wine over what remained of his stump. Despite all his vows and all his fears, he lost consciousness fora time. When he woke, the maester was sewing at his arm with needle and catgut. \"I left a flap of skin to fold back over your wrist.\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You have done this before,\" muttered Jaime, weakly. He could taste blood in his mouth where he'd bitten his tongue.\n\n\"No man who serves with Vargo Hoat is a stranger to stumps. He makes them wherever he goes.\"\n\nQyburn did not look a monster, Jaime thought. He was spare and soft-spoken, with warm brown eyes. \"How does a maester come to ride with the Brave Companions?\"\n\n\"The Citadel took my chain.\" Qyburn put away his needle. \"I should do something about that wound above your eye as well. The flesh is badly inflamed.\"\n\nJaime closed his eyes and let the wine and Qyburn do their work. \"Tell me of the battle.\" As keeper of Harrenhal's ravens, Qyburn would have been the first to hear the news.\n\n\"Lord Stannis was caught between your father and the fire. It's said the Imp set the river itself aflame.\"\n\nJaime saw green flames reaching up into the sky higher than the tallest towers, as burning men screamed in the streets. I have dreamed this dream before. It was almost funny, but there was no one to share the joke.\n\n\"Open your eye.\" Qyburn soaked a cloth in warm water and dabbed at the crust of dried blood. The eyelid was swollen, but Jaime found he could force it open halfway. Qyburn's face loomed above. \"How did you come by this one?\" the maester asked.\n\n\"A wench's gift.\"\n\n\"Rough wooing, my lord?\"\n\n\"This wench is bigger than me and uglier than you. You'd best see to her as well. She's still limping on the leg I pricked when we fought.\""
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will ask after her. What is this woman to you?\"\n\n\"My protector.\" Jaime had to laugh, no matter how it hurt.\n\n\"I'll grind some herbs you can mix with wine to bring down your fever. Comeback on the morrow and I'll put a leech on your eye to drain the bad blood.\"\n\n\"A leech. Lovely.\"\n\n\"Lord Bolton is very fond of leeches,\" Qyburn said primly.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jaime. \"He would be.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "TYRION\n\nNothing remained beyond the King's Gate but mud and ashes and bits of burned bone, yet already there were people living in the shadow of the city walls, and others selling fish from barrows and barrels. Tyrion felt their eyes on him as he rode past; chilly eyes, angry and unsympathetic. No one dared speak to him, or try to bar his way; not with Bronn beside him in oiled blackmail. If I were alone, though, they would pull me down and smash my face in with a cobblestone, as they did for Preston Greenfield.\n\n\"They comeback quicker than the rats,\" he complained. \"We burned them out once, you'd think they'd take that as a lesson.\"\n\n\"Give me a few dozen gold cloaks and I'll kill them all,\" said Bronn. \"Once they're dead they don't comeback.\"\n\n\"No, but others come in their places. Leave them be... but if they start throwing up hovels against the wall again, pull them down at once. The war's not done yet, no matter what these fools may think.\" He spied the Mud Gate up ahead. \"I have seen enough for now. We'll return on the morrow with the guild masters to go over their plans.\" He sighed. Well, I burned most of this, I suppose it's only just that I rebuild it.\n\nThat task was to have been his uncle's, but solid, steady, tireless Ser Kevan Lannister had not been himself since the raven had come from Riverrun with word of his son's murder. Willem's twin Martyn had been taken captive by Robb Stark as well, and their elder brother Lancel was still abed, beset by an ulcerating wound that would not heal. With one son dead and two more in mortal danger, Ser Kevan was consumed by grief and fear. Lord Tywin had always relied on his brother, but now he had no choice but to turn again to his dwarf son."
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"value": "The cost of rebuilding was going to be ruinous, but there was no help for that. King's Landing was the realm's principal harbor, rivaled only by Oldtown. The river had to be reopened, and the sooner the better. And where am I going to find the bloody coin? It was almost enough to make him miss Littlefinger, who had sailed north a fortnight past. While he beds Lysa Arryn and rules the Vale beside her, I get to cleanup the mess he left behind him. Though at least his father was giving him significant work to do. He won't name me heir to Casterly Rock, but he'll make use of me wherever he can, Tyrion thought, as a captain of gold cloaks waved them through the Mud Gate.\n\nThe Three Whores still dominated the market square inside the gate, but they stood idle now, and the boulders and barrels of pitch had all been trundled away. There were children climbing the towering wooden structures, swarming up like monkeys in roughspun to perch on the throwing arms and hoot at each other.\n\n\"Remind me to tell Ser Addam to post some gold cloaks here,\" Tyrion told Bronn as they rode between two of the trebuchets. \"Some fool boy's like to falloff and break his back.\" There was a shout from above, and a clod of manure exploded on the ground afoot in front of them. Tyrion's mare reared and almost threw him. \"On second thoughts,\" he said when he had the horse in hand, \"let the poxy brats splatter on the cobbles like overripe melons.\"\n\nHe was in a black mood, and not just because a few street urchins wanted to pelt him with dung. His marriage was a daily agony. Sansa Stark remained a maiden, and half the castle seemed to know it. When they had saddled up this morning, he'd heard two of the stableboys sniggering behind his back. He could almost imagine that the horses were sniggering as well. He'd risked his skin to avoid the bedding ritual, hoping to preserve the privacy of his bedchamber, but that hope had been dashed quick enough. Either Sansa had been stupid enough to confide in one of her bedmaids, everyone of whom was a spy for Cersei, or Varys and his little birds were to blame."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "What difference did it make?"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were laughing at him all the same. The only person in the Red Keep who didn't seem to find his marriage a source of amusement was his lady wife.\n\nSansa's misery was deepening everyday. Tyrion would gladly have broken through her courtesy to give her what solace he might, but it was no good. No words would ever make him fair in her eyes. Or any less a Lannister. This was the wife they had given him, for all the rest of his life, and she hated him.\n\nAnd their nights together in the great bed were another source of torment. He could no longer bear to sleep naked, as had been his custom. His wife was too well trained ever to say an unkind word, but the revulsion in her eyes whenever she looked on his body was more than he could bear. Tyrion had commanded Sansa to wear a sleeping shift as well. I want her, he realized. I want Winterfell, yes, but I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is. I want to comfort her. I want to hear her laugh. I want her to come tome willingly, to bring me her joys and her sorrows and her lust. His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. Yes, and I want to be tall as Jaime and as strong as Ser Gregor the Mountain too, for all the bloody good it does.\n\nUnbidden, his thoughts went to Shae. Tyrion had not wanted her to hear the news from any lips but his own, so he had commanded Varys to bring her to him the night before his wedding. They met again in the eunuch's chambers, and when Shae began to undo the laces of his jerkin, he'd caught her by the wrist and pushed her away. \"Wait,\" he said, \"there is something you must hear. On the morrow I am to be wed...\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"... to Sansa Stark. I know.\"\n\nHe was speechless for an instant. Even Sansa did not know, not then. \"How could you know? Did Varys tell you?\"\n\n\"Some page was telling Ser Tallad about it when I took Lollys to the sept. He had it from this serving girl who heard Ser Kevan talking to your father.\" She wriggled free of his grasp and pulled her dress up over her head. As ever, she was naked underneath. \"I don't care. She's only a little girl. You'll give her a big belly and comeback tome.\"\n\nSome part of him had hoped for less indifference. Had hoped, he jeered bitterly, but now you know better, dwarf. Shae is all the love you're ever like to have.\n\nMuddy Way was crowded, but soldiers and townfolk alike made way for the Imp and his escort. Hollow-eyed children swarmed underfoot, some looking up in silent appeal whilst others begged noisily. Tyrion pulled a big fistful of coppers from his purse and tossed them in the air, and the children went running for them, shoving and shouting. The lucky ones might be able to buy a heel of stale bread tonight. He had never seen markets so crowded, and for all the food the Tyrells were bringing in, prices remained shockingly high. Six coppers fora melon, a silver stag fora bushel of corn, a dragon fora side of beef or six skinny piglets. Yet there seemed no lack of buyers. Gaunt men and haggard women crowded around every wagon and stall, while others even more ragged looked on sullenly from the mouths of alleys.\n\n\"This way,\" Bronn said, when they reached the foot of the Hook. \"If you still mean to...?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I do.\" The riverfront had made a convenient excuse, but Tyrion had another purpose today. It was not a task he relished, but it must be done. They turned away from Aegon's High Hill, into the maze of smaller streets that clustered around the foot of Visenya's. Bronn led the way. Once or twice Tyrion glanced back over his shoulder to see if they were being followed, but there was nothing to be seen except the usual rabble: a carter beating his horse, an old woman throwing nightsoil from her window, two little boys fighting with sticks, three gold cloaks escorting a captive... they all looked innocent, but anyone of them could be his undoing. Varys had informers everywhere.\n\nThey turned at a corner, and again at the next, and rode slowly through a crowd of women at a well. Bronn led him along a curving wynd, through an alley, under a broken archway. They cut through the rubble where a house had burned and walked their horses up a shallow flight of stone steps. The buildings were close and poor. Bronn halted at the mouth of a crooked alley, too narrow for two to ride abreast. \"There's two jags and then a dead end. The sink is in the cellar of the last building.\"\n\nTyrion swung down off his horse. \"See that no one enters or leaves till I return. This won't take long.\" His hand went into his cloak, to make certain the gold was still therein the hidden pocket. Thirty dragons. A bloody fortune, fora manlike him. He waddled up the alley quickly, anxious to be done with this.\n\nThe wine sink was a dismal place, dark and damp, walls pale with niter, the ceiling so low that Bronn would have had to duck to keep from hitting his head on the beams. Tyrion Lannister had no such problem. At this hour, the front room was empty but fora dead-eyed woman who sat on a stool behind a rough plank bar. She handed him a cup of sour wine and said, \"In the back.\""
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"value": "The backroom was even darker. A flickering candle burned on a low table, beside a flagon of wine. The man behind it scarce looked a danger; a short man-though all men were tall to Tyrion-with thinning brown hair, pink cheeks, and a little pot pushing at the bone buttons of his doeskin jerkin. In his soft hands he held a twelve-stringed woodharp more deadly than a longsword.\n\nTyrion sat across from him. \"Symon Silver Tongue.\"\n\nThe man inclined his head. He was bald on top. \"My lord Hand,\" he said.\n\n\"You mistake me. My father is the King's Hand. I am no longer even a finger, I fear.\"\n\n\"You shall rise again, I am sure. A manlike you. My sweet lady Shae tells me you are newlywed. Would that you had sent for me earlier. I should have been honored to sing at your feast.\"\n\n\"The last thing my wife needs is more songs,\" said Tyrion. \"As for Shae, we both know she is no lady, and I would thank you never to speak her name aloud.\"\n\n\"As the Hand commands,\" Symon said.\n\nThe last time Tyrion had seen the man, a sharp word had been enough to set him sweating, but it seemed the singer had found some courage somewhere. Most like in that flagon. Or perhaps Tyrion himself was to blame for this new boldness. I threatened him, but nothing ever came of the threat, so now he believes me toothless. He sighed. \"I am told you area very gifted singer.\"\n\n\"You are most kind to say so, my lord.\"\n\nTyrion gave him a smile. \"I think it is time you brought your music to the Free Cities. They are great lovers of song in Braavos and Pentos and Lys, and generous with those who please them.\" He took a sip of wine. It was foul stuff, but strong. \"A tour of all nine cities would be best. You wouldn't want to deny anyone the joy of hearing you sing. A year in each should suffice.\" He reached inside his cloak, to where the gold was hidden. \"With the port closed, you will need to go to Duskendale to take ship, but my man Bronn will find a horse for you, and I would be honored if you would let me pay your passage...\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But my lord,\" the man objected, \"you have never heard me sing. Pray listen a moment.\" His fingers moved deftly over the strings of the woodharp, and soft music filled the cellar. Symon began to sing.\n\nHe rode through the streets of the city,\n\ndown from his hill on high,\n\nO'er the wynds and the steps and the cobbles,\n\nhe rode to a woman's sigh.\n\nFor she was his secret treasure,\n\nshe was his shame and his bliss.\n\nAnd a chain and a keep are nothing,\n\ncompared to a woman's kiss.\n\n\"There's more,\" the man said as he broke off. \"Oh, a good deal more. The refrain is especially nice, I think. For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm...\"\n\n\"Enough.\" Tyrion slid his fingers from his cloak, empty. \"That's not a song I would care to hear again. Ever.\"\n\n\"No?\" Symon Silver Tongue put his harp aside and took a sip of wine. \"A pity. Still, each man has his song, as my old master used to say when he was teaching me to play. Others might like my tune better. The queen, perhaps. Or your lord father.\"\n\nTyrion rubbed the scar over his nose, and said, \"My father has no time for singers, and my sister is not as generous as one might think. A wise man could earn more from silence than from song.\" He could not put it much plainer than that.\n\nSymon seemed to take his meaning quick enough. \"You will find my price modest, my lord.\"\n\n\"That's good to know.\" This would not be a matter of thirty golden dragons, Tyrion feared. \"Tell me.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"At King Joffrey's wedding feast,\" the man said, \"there is to be a tournament of singers.\"\n\n\"And jugglers, and jesters, and dancing bears.\"\n\n\"Only one dancing bear, my lord,\" said Symon, who had plainly attended Cersei's arrangements with far more interest than Tyrion had, \"but seven singers. Galyeon of Cuy, Bethany Fair-fingers, Aemon Costayne, Alaric of Eysen, Hamish the Harper, Collio Quaynis, and Orland of Oldtown will compete fora gilded lute with silver strings... yet unaccountably, no invitation has been forthcoming for one who is master of them all.\"\n\n\"Let me guess. Symon Silver Tongue?\"\n\nSymon smiled modestly. \"I am prepared to prove the truth of my boast before king and court. Hamish is old, and oft forgets what he is singing. And Collio, with that absurd Tyroshi accent! If you understand one word in three, count yourself fortunate.\"\n\n\"My sweet sister has arranged the feast. Even if I could secure you this invitation, it might look queer. Seven kingdoms, seven vows, seven challenges, seventy-seven dishes... but eight singers? What would the High Septon think?\"\n\n\"You did not strike meas a pious man, my lord.\"\n\n\"Piety is not the point. Certain forms must be observed.\"\n\nSymon took a sip of wine. \"Still... a singer's life is not without peril. We ply our trade in alehouses and wine sinks, before unruly drunkards. If one of your sister's seven should suffer some mishap, I hope you might consider me to fill his place.\" He smiled slyly, inordinately pleased with himself."
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Six singers would be as unfortunate as eight, to be sure. I will inquire after the health of Cersei's seven. If any of them should be indisposed, my man Bronn will find you.\"\n\n\"Very good, my lord.\" Symon might have left it at that, but flushed with triumph, he added, \"I shall sing the night of King Joffrey's wedding. Should it happen that I am called to court, why, I will want to offer the king my very best compositions, songs I have sung a thousand times that are certain to please. If I should find myself singing in some dreary winesink, though... well, that would bean apt occasion to try my new song. For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm.\"\n\n\"That will not be necessary,\" said Tyrion. \"You have my word as a Lannister, Bronn will call upon you soon.\"\n\n\"Very good, my lord.\" The balding kettle-bellied singer took up his woodharp again.\n\nBronn was waiting with the horses at the mouth of the alley. He helped Tyrion into his saddle. \"When do I take the man to Duskendale?\"\n\n\"You don't.\" Tyrion turned his horse. \"Give him three days, then inform him that Hamish the Harper has broken his arm. Tell him that his clothes will never serve for court, so he must befitted for new garb at once. He'll come with you quick enough.\" He grimaced. \"You may want his tongue, I understand it's made of silver. The rest of him should never be found.\"\n\nBronn grinned. \"There's a pot shop I know in Flea Bottom makes a savory bowl of brown. All kinds of meat in it, I hear.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Make certain I never eat there.\" Tyrion spurred to a trot. He wanted a bath, and the hotter the better.\n\nEven that modest pleasure was denied him, however; no sooner had he returned to his chambers than Podrick Payne informed him that he had been summoned to the Tower of the Hand. \"His lordship wants to see you. The Hand. Lord Tywin.\"\n\n\"I recall who the Hand is, Pod,\" Tyrion said. \"I lost my nose, not my wits.\"\n\nBronn laughed. \"Don't bite the boy's head off now.\"\n\n\"Why not? He never uses it.\" Tyrion wondered what he'd done now. Or more like, what I have failed to do. A summons from Lord Tywin always had teeth; his father never sent for him just to share a meal or a cup of wine, that was for certain.\n\nAshe entered his lord father's solar a few moments later, he heard a voice saying, \"... cherrywood for the scabbards, bound in red leather and ornamented with a row of lion's-head studs in pure gold. Perhaps with garnets for the eyes...\"\n\n\"Rubies,\" Lord Tywin said. \"Garnets lack the fire.\"\n\nTyrion cleared his throat. \"My lord. You sent for me?\"\n\nHis father glanced up. \"I did. Come have a look at this.\" A bundle of oilcloth lay on the table between them, and Lord Tywin had a longsword in his hand. \"A wedding gift for Joffrey,\" he told Tyrion. The light streaming through the diamond-shaped panes of glass made the blade shimmer black and red as Lord Tywin turned it to inspect the edge, while the pommel and crossguard flamed gold. \"With this fool's jabber of Stannis and his magic sword, it seemed tome that we had best give Joffrey something extraordinary as well. A king should bear a kingly weapon.\""
},
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"value": "\"That's much too much sword for Joff,\" Tyrion said.\n\n\"He will grow into it. Here, feel the weight of it.\" He offered the weapon hilt first.\n\nThe sword was much lighter than he had expected. Ashe turned it in his hand he saw why. Only one metal could be beaten so thin and still have strength enough to fight with, and there was no mistaking those ripples, the mark of steel that has been folded back on itself many thousands of times. \"Valyrian steel?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Lord Tywin said, in atone of deep satisfaction.\n\nAt long last, Father? Valyrian steel blades were scarce and costly, yet thousands remained in the world, perhaps two hundred in the Seven Kingdoms alone. It had always irked his father that none belonged to House Lannister. The old Kings of the Rock had owned such a weapon, but the greatsword Brightroar had been lost when the second King Tommen carried it back to Valyria on his fool's quest. He had never returned; nor had Uncle Gery, the youngest and most reckless of his father's brothers, who had gone seeking after the lost sword some eight years past.\n\nThrice at least Lord Tywin had offered to buy Valyrian longswords from impoverished lesser houses, but his advances had always been firmly rebuffed. The little lordlings would gladly part with their daughters should a Lannister come asking, but they cherished their old family swords.\n\nTyrion wondered where the metal for this one had come from. A few master armorers could rework old Valyrian steel, but the secrets of its making had been lost when the Doom came to old Valyria. \"The colors are strange,\" he commented as he turned the blade in the sunlight. Most Valyrian steel was a grey so dark it looked almost black, as was true here as well. But blended into the folds was a red as deep as the grey. The two colors lapped over one another without ever touching, each ripple distinct, like waves of night and blood upon some steely shore. \"How did you get this patterning? I've never seen anything like it.\""
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"value": "\"Nor I, my lord,\" said the armorer. \"I confess, these colors were not what I intended, and I do not know that I could duplicate them. Your lord father had asked for the crimson of your House, and it was that color I set out to infuse into the metal. But Valyrian steel is stubborn. These old swords remember, it is said, and they do not change easily. I worked half a hundred spells and brightened the red time and time again, but always the color would darken, as if the blade was drinking the sun from it. And some folds would not take the red at all, as you can see. If my lords of Lannister are displeased, I will of course try again, as many times as you should require, but-\"\n\n\"No need,\" Lord Tywin said. \"This will serve.\"\n\n\"A crimson sword might flash prettily in the sun, but if truth be told I like these colors better,\" said Tyrion. \"They have an ominous beauty... and they make this blade unique. There is no other sword like it in all the world, I should think.\"\n\n\"There is one.\" The armorer bent over the table and unfolded the bundle of oilcloth, to reveal a second longsword.\n\nTyrion put down Joffrey's sword and took up the other. If not twins, the two were at least close cousins. This one was thicker and heavier, a half-inch wider and three inches longer, but they shared the same fine clean lines and the same distinctive color, the ripples of blood and night. Three fullers, deeply incised, ran down the second blade from hilt to point; the king's sword had only two. Joff's hilt was a good deal more ornate, the arms of its crossguard done as lions\" paws with ruby claws unsheathed, but both swords had grips of finely tooled red leather and gold lions' heads for pommels."
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"value": "\"Magnificent.\" Even in hands as unskilled as Tyrion's, the blade felt alive. \"I have never felt better balance.\"\n\n\"It is meant for my son.\"\n\nNo need to ask which son. Tyrion placed Jaime's sword back on the table beside Joffrey's, wondering if Robb Stark would let his brother livelong enough to wield it. Our father must surely think so, else why have this blade forged?\n\n\"You have done good work, Master Mott,\" Lord Tywin told the armorer. \"My steward will see to your payment. And remember, rubies for the scabbards.\"\n\n\"I shall, my lord. You are most generous.\" The man folded the swords up in the oilcloth, tucked the bundle under one arm, and went to his knee. \"It is an honor to serve the King's Hand. I shall deliver the swords the day before the wedding.\"\n\n\"See that you do.\"\n\nWhen the guards had seen the armorer out, Tyrion clambered up onto a chair. \"So... a sword for Joff, a sword for Jaime, and not even a dagger for the dwarf. Is that the way of it, Father?\"\n\n\"The steel was sufficient for two blades, not three. If you have need of a dagger, take one from the armory. Robert left a hundred when he died. Gerion gave him a gilded dagger with an ivory grip and a sapphire pommel fora wedding gift, and half the envoys who came to court tried to curry favor by presenting His Grace with jewel-encrusted knives and silver inlay swords.\"\n\nTyrion smiled. \"They'd have pleased him more if they'd presented him with their daughters.\"\n\n\"No doubt. The only blade he ever used was the hunting knife he had from Jon Arryn, when he was a boy.\" Lord Tywin waved a hand, dismissing King Robert and all his knives. \"What did you find at the riverfront?\""
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "\"Mud,\" said Tyrion, \"and a few dead things no one's bothered to bury. Before we can open the port again, the Blackwater's going to have to be dredged, the sunken ships broken up or raised. Three-quarters of the quays need repair, and some may have to be torn down and rebuilt. The entire fish market is gone, and both the River Gate and the King's Gate are splintered from the battering Stannis gave them and should be replaced. I shudder to think of the cost.\" If you do shit gold, Father, find a privy and get busy, he wanted to say, but he knew better.\n\n\"You will find whatever gold is required.\"\n\n\"Will I? Where? The treasury is empty, I've told you that. We're not done paying the alchemists for all that wildfire, or the smiths for my chain, and Cersei's pledged the crown to pay half the costs of Joff's wedding-seventy-seven bloody courses, a thousand guests, a pie full of doves, singers, jugglers...\"\n\n\"Extravagance has its uses. We must demonstrate the power and wealth of Casterly Rock for all the realm to see.\"\n\n\"Then perhaps Casterly Rock should pay.\"\n\n\"Why? I have seen Littlefinger's accounts. Crown incomes are ten times higher than they were under Aerys.\"\n\n\"As are the crown's expenses. Robert was as generous with his coin as he was with his cock. Littlefinger borrowed heavily. From you, amongst others. Yes, the incomes are considerable, but they are barely sufficient to cover the usury on Littlefinger's loans. Will you forgive the throne's debt to House Lannister?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Don't be absurd.\"\n\n\"Then perhaps seven courses would suffice. Three hundred guests instead of a thousand. I understand that a marriage can be just as binding without a dancing bear.\"\n\n\"The Tyrells would think us niggardly. I will have the wedding and the waterfront. If you cannot pay for them, say so, and I shall find a master of coin who can.\"\n\nThe disgrace of being dismissed after so short a time was not something Tyrion cared to suffer. \"I will find your money.\"\n\n\"You will,\" his father promised, \"and while you are about it, see if you can find your wife's bed as well.\"\n\nSo the talk has reached even him. \"I have, thank you. It's that piece of furniture between the window and the hearth, with the velvet canopy and the mattress stuffed with goose down.\"\n\n\"I am pleased you know of it. Now perhaps you ought to try and know the woman who shares it with you.\"\n\nWoman? Child, you mean. \"Has a spider been whispering in your ear, or do I have my sweet sister to thank?\" Considering the things that went on beneath Cersei's blankets, you would think she'd have the decency to keep her nose out of his. \"Tell me, why is it that all of Sansa's maids are women in Cersei's service? I am sick of being spied upon in my own chambers.\"\n\n\"If you mislike your wife's servants, dismiss them and hire ones more to your liking. That is your right. It is your wife's maidenhood that concerns me, not her maids. This... delicacy puzzles me. You seem to have no difficulty bedding whores. Is the Stark girl made differently?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why do you take so much bloody interest in where I put my cock?\" Tyrion demanded. \"Sansa is too young.\"\n\n\"She is old enough to be Lady of Winterfell once her brother is dead. Claim her maidenhood and you will be one step closer to claiming the north. Get her with child, and the prize is all but won. Do I need to remind you that a marriage that has not been consummated can beset aside?\"\n\n\"By the High Septon or a Council of Faith. Our present High Septon is a trained seal who barks prettily on command. Moon Boy is more like to annul my marriage than he is.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I should have married Sansa Stark to Moon Boy. He might have known what to do with her.\"\n\nTyrion's hands clenched on the arms of his chair. \"I have heard all I mean to hear on the subject of my wife's maidenhead. But so long as we are discussing marriage, why is it that I hear nothing of my sister's impending nuptials? As I recall-\"\n\nLord Tywin cut him off. \"Mace Tyrell has refused my offer to marry Cersei to his heir Willas.\"\n\n\"Refused our sweet Cersei?\" That put Tyrion in a much better mood.\n\n\"When I first broached the match to him, Lord Tyrell seemed well enough disposed,\" his father said. \"A day later, all was changed. The old woman's work. She hectors her son unmercifully. Varys claims she told him that your sister was too old and too used for this precious one-legged grandson of hers.\"\n\n\"Cersei must have loved that.\" He laughed.\n\nLord Tywin gave him a chilly look. \"She does not know. Nor will she. It is better for all of us if the offer was never made. See that you remember that, Tyrion. The offer was never made.\""
}
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[
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"value": "Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 34"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why do you take so much bloody interest in where I put my cock?\" Tyrion demanded. \"Sansa is too young.\"\n\n\"She is old enough to be Lady of Winterfell once her brother is dead. Claim her maidenhood and you will be one step closer to claiming the north. Get her with child, and the prize is all but won. Do I need to remind you that a marriage that has not been consummated can beset aside?\"\n\n\"By the High Septon or a Council of Faith. Our present High Septon is a trained seal who barks prettily on command. Moon Boy is more like to annul my marriage than he is.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I should have married Sansa Stark to Moon Boy. He might have known what to do with her.\"\n\nTyrion's hands clenched on the arms of his chair. \"I have heard all I mean to hear on the subject of my wife's maidenhead. But so long as we are discussing marriage, why is it that I hear nothing of my sister's impending nuptials? As I recall-\"\n\nLord Tywin cut him off. \"Mace Tyrell has refused my offer to marry Cersei to his heir Willas.\"\n\n\"Refused our sweet Cersei?\" That put Tyrion in a much better mood.\n\n\"When I first broached the match to him, Lord Tyrell seemed well enough disposed,\" his father said. \"A day later, all was changed. The old woman's work. She hectors her son unmercifully. Varys claims she told him that your sister was too old and too used for this precious one-legged grandson of hers.\"\n\n\"Cersei must have loved that.\" He laughed.\n\nLord Tywin gave him a chilly look. \"She does not know. Nor will she. It is better for all of us if the offer was never made. See that you remember that, Tyrion. The offer was never made.\""
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What offer?\" Tyrion rather suspected that Lord Tyrell might come to regret this rebuff.\n\n\"Your sister will be wed. The question is, to whom? I have several thoughts-\" Before he could get to them, there was a rap at the door and a guardsman stuck in his head to announce Grand Maester Pycelle. \"He may enter,\" said Lord Tywin.\n\nPycelle tottered in on a cane, and stopped long enough to give Tyrion a look that would curdle milk. His once-magnificent white beard, which someone had unaccountably shaved off, was growing back sparse and wispy, leaving him with unsightly pink wattles to dangle beneath his neck. \"My lord Hand,\" the old man said, bowing as deeply as he could without falling, \"there has been another bird from Castle Black. Mayhaps we could consult privily?\"\n\n\"There's no need for that.\" Lord Tywin waved Grand Maester Pycelle to a seat. \"Tyrion may stay.\"\n\nOooooh, may I? He rubbed his nose, and waited.\n\nPycelle cleared his throat, which involved a deal of coughing and hawking. \"The letter is from the same Bowen Marsh who sent the last. The castellan. He writes that Lord Mormont has sent word of wildlings moving south in vast numbers.\"\n\n\"The lands beyond the Wall cannot support vast numbers,\" said Lord Tywin firmly. \"This warning is not new.\"\n\n\"This last is, my lord. Mormont sent a bird from the haunted forest, to report that he was under attack. More ravens have returned since, but none with letters. This Bowen Marsh fears Lord Mormont slain, with all his strength.\"\n\nTyrion had rather liked old Jeor Mormont, with his gruff manner and talking bird. \"Is this certain?\" he asked."
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"value": "\"It is not,\" Pycelle admitted, \"but none of Mormont's men have returned as yet. Marsh fears the wildlings have killed them, and that the Wall itself maybe attacked next.\" He fumbled in his robe and found the paper. \"Here is his letter, my lord, a plea to all five kings. He wants men, as many men as we can send him.\"\n\n\"Five kings?\" His father was annoyed. \"There is one king in Westeros. Those fools in black might try and remember that if they wish His Grace to heed them. When you reply, tell him that Renly is dead and the others are traitors and pretenders.\"\n\n\"No doubt they will be glad to learn it. The Wallis a world apart, and news oft reaches them late.\" Pycelle bobbed his head up and down. \"What shall I tell Marsh concerning the men he begs for? Shall we convene the council...\"\n\n\"There is no need. The Night's Watch is a pack of thieves, killers, and baseborn churls, but it occurs tome that they could prove otherwise, given proper discipline. If Mormont is indeed dead, the black brothers must choose anew Lord Commander.\"\n\nPycelle gave Tyrion a sly glance. \"An excellent thought, my lord. I know the very man. Janos Slynt.\"\n\nTyrion liked that notion not at all. \"The black brothers choose their own commander,\" he reminded them. \"Lord Slynt is new to the Wall. I know, I sent him there. Why should they pick him over a dozen more senior men?\"\n\n\"Because,\" his father said, in atone that suggested Tyrion was quite the simpleton, \"if they do not vote as they are told, their Wall will melt before it sees another man.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Yes, that would work."
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"value": "Tyrion hitched forward. \"Janos Slynt is the wrong man, Father. We'd do better with the commander of the Shadow Tower. Or Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.\"\n\n\"The commander of the Shadow Tower is a Mallister of Seagard. Eastwatch is held by an ironman.\" Neither would serve his purposes, Lord Tywin's tone said clear enough.\n\n\"Janos Slynt is a butcher's son,\" Tyrion reminded his father forcefully. \"You yourself told me-\"\n\n\"I recall what I told you. Castle Black is not Harrenhal, however. The Night's Watch is not the king's council. There is a tool for every task, and a task for every tool.\"\n\nTyrion's anger flashed. \"Lord Janos is a hollow suit of armor who will sell himself to the highest bidder.\"\n\n\"I count that a point in his favor. Who is like to bid higher than us?\" He turned to Pycelle. \"Send a raven. Write that King Joffrey was deeply saddened to hear of Lord Commander Mormont's death, but regrets that he can spare no men just now, whilst so many rebels and usurpers remain in the field. Suggest that matters might be quite different once the throne is secure... provided the king has full confidence in the leadership of the Watch. In closing, ask Marsh to pass along His Grace's fondest regards to his faithful friend and servant, Lord Janos Slynt.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\" Pycelle bobbed his withered head once more. \"I shall write as the Hand commands. With great pleasure.\"\n\nI should have trimmed his head, not his beard, Tyrion reflected. And Slynt should have gone fora swim with his dear friend Allar Deem. At least he had not made the same foolish mistake with Symon Silver Tongue. See there, Father? he wanted to shout. See how fast I learn my lessons?"
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"value": "SAMWELL\n\nUp in the loft a woman was giving birth noisily, while below a man lay dying by the fire. Samwell Tarly could not say which frightened him more.\n\nThey'd covered poor Bannen with a pile of furs and stoked the fire high, yet all he could say was, \"I'm cold. Please. I'm so cold.\" Sam was trying to feed him onion broth, but he could not swallow. The broth dribbled over his lips and down his chin as fast as Sam could spoon it in.\n\n\"That one's dead.\" Craster eyed the man with indifference as he worried at a sausage. \"Be kinder to stick a knife in his chest than that spoon down his throat, you ask me.\"\n\n\"I don't recall as we did.\" Giant was no more than five feet tall-his true name was Bedwyck-but a fierce little man for all that. \"Slayer, did you ask Craster for his counsel?\"\n\nSam cringed at the name, but shook his head. He filled another spoon, brought it to Bannen's mouth, and tried to ease it between his lips.\n\n\"Food and fire,\" Giant was saying, \"that was all we asked of you. And you grudge us the food.\"\n\n\"Be glad I didn't grudge you fire too.\" Craster was a thick man made thicker by the ragged smelly sheepskins he wore day and night. He had abroad flat nose, a mouth that drooped to one side, and a missing ear. And though his matted hair and tangled beard might be grey going white, his hard knuckly hands still looked strong enough to hurt. \"I fed you what I could, but you crows are always hungry. I'm a godly man, else I would have chased you off. You think I need the likes of him, dying on my floor? You think I need all your mouths, little man?\" The wildling spat. \"Crows. When did a blackbird ever bring good to a man's hall, I ask you? Never. Never.\""
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"value": "More broth ran from the corner of Bannen's mouth. Sam dabbed it away with a corner of his sleeve. The ranger's eyes were open but unseeing. \"I'm cold,\" he said again, so faintly. A maester might have known how to save him, but they had no maester. Kedge Whiteye had taken Bannen's mangled foot off nine days past, in a gout of pus and blood that made Sam sick, but it was too little, too late. \"I'm so cold,\" the pale lips repeated.\n\nAbout the hall, a ragged score of black brothers squatted on the floor or sat on rough-hewn benches, drinking cups of the same thin onion broth and gnawing on chunks of hardbread. A couple were wounded worse than Bannen, to look at them. Fornio had been delirious for days, and Ser Byam's shoulder was oozing afoul yellow pus. When they'd left Castle Black, Brown Bernarr had been carrying bags of Myrish fire, mustard salve, ground garlic, tansy, poppy, kingscopper, and other healing herbs. Even sweetsleep, which gave the gift of painless death. But Brown Bernarr had died on the Fist and no one had thought to search for Maester Aemon's medicines. Hake had known some herblore as well, being a cook, but Hake was also lost. So it was left to the surviving stewards to do what they could for the wounded, which was little enough. At least they are dry here, with afire to warm them. They need more food, though.\n\nThey all needed more food. The men had been grumbling for days. Clubfoot Karl kept saying how Craster had to have a hidden larder, and Garth of Oldtown had begun to echo him, when he was out of the Lord Commander's hearing. Sam had thought of begging for something more nourishing for the wounded men at least, but he did not have the courage. Craster's eyes were cold and mean, and whenever the wildling looked his way his hands twitched a little, as if they wanted to curl up into fists. Does he know I spoke to Gilly, the last time we were here? he wondered. Did she tell him I said we'd take her? Did he beat it out of her?"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm cold,\" said Bannen. \"Please. I'm cold.\"\n\nFor all the heat and smoke in Craster's hall, Sam felt cold himself. And tired, so tired. He needed sleep, but whenever he closed his eyes he dreamed of blowing snow and dead men shambling toward him with black hands and bright blue eyes.\n\nUp in the loft, Gilly let out a shuddering sob that echoed down the long low windowless hall. \"Push,\" he heard one of Craster's older wives tell her. \"Harder. Harder. Scream if it helps.\" She did, so loud it made Sam wince.\n\nCraster turned his head to glare. \"I've had a bellyful o\" that shrieking,\" he shouted up. \"Give her a rag to bite down on, or I'll come up there and give her a taste o\" my hand.\"\n\nHe would too, Sam knew. Craster had nineteen wives, but none who'd dare interfere once he started up that ladder. No more than the black brothers had two nights past, when he was beating one of the younger girls. There had been mutterings, to be sure. \"He's killing her,\" Garth of Greenaway had said, and Clubfoot Karl laughed and said, \"If he don't want the little sweetmeat he could give her tome.\" Black Bernarr cursed in a low angry voice, and Alan of Rosby got up and went outside so he wouldn't have to hear. \"His roof, his rule,\" the ranger Ronnel Harclay had reminded them. \"Craster's a friend to the Watch.\"\n\nA friend, thought Sam, as he listened to Gilly's muffled shrieks. Craster was a brutal man who ruled his wives and daughters with an iron hand, but his keep was a refuge all the same. \"Frozen crows,\" Craster sneered when they straggled in, those few who had survived the snow, the wights, and the bitter cold. \"And not so big a flock as went north, neither.\" Yet he had given them space on his floor, a roof to keep the snow off, afire to dry them out, and his wives had brought them cups of hot wine to put some warmth in their bellies. \"Bloody crows,\" he called them, but he'd fed them too, meager though the fare might be."
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"value": "We are guests, Sam reminded himself. Gilly is his. His daughter, his wife. His roof, his rule.\n\nThe first time he'd seen Craster's Keep, Gilly had come begging for help, and Sam had lent her his black cloak to conceal her belly when she went to find Jon Snow. Knights are supposed to defend women and children. Only a few of the black brothers were knights, but even so... We all say the words, Sam thought. I am the shield that guards the realms of men. A woman was a woman, even a wildling woman. We should help her. We should. It washer child Gilly feared for; she was frightened that it might be a boy. Craster raised up his daughters to be his wives, but there were neither men nor boys to be seen about his compound. Gilly had told Jon that Craster gave his sons to the gods. If the gods are good, they will send her a daughter, Sam prayed.\n\nUp in the loft, Gilly choked back a scream. \"That's it,\" a woman said. \"Another push, now. Oh, I see his head.\"\n\nHers, Sam thought miserably. Her head, hers.\n\n\"Cold,\" said Bannen, weakly. \"Please. I'm so cold.\" Sam put the bowl and spoon aside, tossed another fur across the dying man, put another stick on the fire. Gilly gave a shriek, and began to pant. Craster gnawed on his hard black sausage. He had sausages for himself and his wives, he said, but none for the Watch. \"Women,\" he complained. \"The way they wail... I had me a fat sow once birthed a litter of eight with no more'n a grunt.\" Chewing, he turned his head to squint contemptuously at Sam. \"She was near as fat as you, boy. Slayer.\" He laughed."
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"value": "It was more than Sam could stand. He stumbled away from the firepit, stepping awkwardly over and around the men sleeping and squatting and dying upon the hard-packed earthen floor. The smoke and screams and moans were making him feel faint. Bending his head, he pushed through the hanging deerhide flaps that served Craster fora door and stepped out into the afternoon.\n\nThe day was cloudy, but still bright enough to blind him after the gloom of the hall. Some patches of snow weighed down the limbs of surrounding trees and blanketed the gold and russet hills, but fewer than there had been. The storm had passed on, and the days at Craster's Keep had been... well, not warm perhaps, but not so bitter cold. Sam could hear the soft drip-drip-drip of water melting off the icicles that bearded the edge of the thick sod roof. He took a deep shuddering breath and looked around.\n\nTo the west Ollo Lophand and Tim Stone were moving through the horselines, feeding and watering the remaining garrons.\n\nDownwind, other brothers were skinning and butchering the animals deemed too weak to goon. Spearmen and archers walked sentry behind the earthen dikes that were Craster's only defense against whatever hid in the wood beyond, while a dozen firepits sent up thick fingers of blue-grey smoke. Sam could hear the distant echoes of axes at work in the forest, where a work detail was harvesting enough wood to keep the blazes burning all through the night. Nights were the bad time. When it got dark. And cold.\n\nThere had been no attacks while they had been at Craster's, neither wights nor Others. Nor would there be, Craster said. \"A godly man got no cause to fear such. I said as much to that Mance Rayder once, when he come sniffing round. He never listened, no more'n you crows with your swords and your bloody fires. That won't help you none when the white cold comes. Only the gods will help you then. You best get right with the gods.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Gilly had spoken of the white cold as well, and she'd told them what sort of offerings Craster made to his gods."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sam had wanted to kill him when he heard. There are no laws beyond the Wall, he reminded himself, and Craster's a friend to the Watch.\n\nA ragged shout went up from behind the daub-and-wattle hall. Sam went to take a look. The ground beneath his feet was a slush of melting snow and soft mud that Dolorous Edd insisted was made of Craster's shit. It was thicker than shit, though; it sucked at Sam's boots so hard he felt one pull loose.\n\nBack of a vegetable garden and empty sheepfold, a dozen black brothers were loosing arrows at a butt they'd built of hay and straw. The slender blond steward they called Sweet Donnel had laid a shaft just off the bull's eye at fifty yards. \"Best that, old man,\" he said.\n\n\"Aye. I will.\" Ulmer, stooped and grey-bearded and loose of skin and limb, stepped to the mark and pulled an arrow from the quiver at his waist. In his youth he had been an outlaw, a member of the infamous Kingswood Brotherhood. He claimed he'd once put an arrow through the hand of the White Bull of the Kingsguard to steal a kiss from the lips of a Dornish princess. He had stolen her jewels too, and a chest of golden dragons, but it was the kiss he liked to boast of in his cups.\n\nHe notched and drew, all smooth as summer silk, then let fly. His shaft struck the butt an inch inside of Donnel Hill's. \"Will that do, lad?\" he asked, stepping back.\n\n\"Well enough,\" said the younger man, grudgingly. \"The crosswind helped you. It blew more strongly when I loosed.\"\n\n\"You ought to have allowed for it, then. You have a good eye and a steady hand, but you'll need a deal more to best a man of the kingswood. Fletcher Dick it was who showed me how to bend the bow, and no finer archer ever lived. Have I told you about old Dick, now?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Only three hundred times.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Every man at Castle Black had heard Ulmer's tales of the great outlaw band of yore; of Simon Toyne and the Smiling Knight, Oswyn Longneck the Thrice-Hanged, Wenda the White Fawn, Fletcher Dick, Big Belly Ben, and all the rest. Searching for escape, Sweet Donnel looked about and spied Sam standing in the muck. \"Slayer,\" he called. \"Come, show us how you slew the Other.\" He held out the tall yew longbow.\n\nSam turned red. \"It wasn't an arrow, it was a dagger, dragonglass...\" He knew what would happen if he took the bow. He would miss the butt and send the arrow sailing over the dike off into the trees. Then he'd hear the laughter.\n\n\"No matter,\" said Alan of Rosby, another fine bowman. \"We're all keen to seethe Slayer shoot. Aren't we, lads?\"\n\nHe could not face them; the mocking smiles, the mean little jests, the contempt in their eyes. Sam turned to go back the way he'd come, but his right foot sank deep in the muck, and when he tried to pull it out his boot came off. He had to kneel to wrench it free, laughter ringing in his ears. Despite all his socks, the snowmelt had soaked through to his toes by the time he made his escape. Useless, he thought miserably. My father saw me true. I have no right to be alive when so many brave men are dead.\n\nGrenn was tending the firepit south of the compound gate, stripped to the waist as he split logs. His face was red with exertion, the sweat steaming off his skin. But he grinned as Sam came chuffing up. \"The Others get your boot, Slayer?\""
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"value": "Him too? \"It was the mud. Please don't call me that.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" Grenn sounded honestly puzzled. \"It's a good name, and you came by it fairly.\"\n\nPyp always teased Grenn about being thick as a castle wall, so Sam explained patiently. \"It's just a different way of calling me a coward,\" he said, standing on his left leg and wriggling back into his muddy boot. \"They're mocking me, the same way they mock Bedwyck by calling him \"Giant.\"\"\n\n\"He's not a giant, though,\" said Grenn, \"and Paul was never small. Well, maybe when he was a babe at the breast, but not after. You did slay the Other, though, so it's not the same.\"\n\n\"I just... I never... I was scared!\"\n\n\"No more than me. It's only Pyp who says I'm too dumb to be frightened. I get as frightened as anyone.\" Grenn bent to scoop up a split log, and tossed it into the fire. \"I used to be scared of Jon, whenever I had to fight him. He was so quick, and he fought like he meant to kill me.\" The green damp wood satin the flames, smoking before it took fire. \"I never said, though. Sometimes I think everyone is just pretending to be brave, and none of us really are. Maybe pretending is how you get brave, I don't know. Let them call you Slayer, who cares?\"\n\n\"You never liked Ser Alliser to call you Aurochs.\"\n\n\"He was saying I was big and stupid.\" Grenn scratched at his beard. \"If Pyp wanted to call me Aurochs, though, he could. Or you, or Jon. An aurochs is a fierce strong beast, so that's not so bad, and I am big, and getting bigger. Wouldn't you rather be Sam the Slayer than Ser Piggy?\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why can't I just be Samwell Tarly?\" He sat down heavily on a wet log that Grenn had yet to split. \"It was the dragonglass that slew it. Not me, the dragonglass.\"\n\nHe had told them. He had told them all. Some of them didn't believe him, he knew. Dirk had shown Sam his dirk and said, \"I got iron, what do I want with glass?\" Black Bernarr and the three Garths made it plain that they doubted his whole story, and Rolley of Sisterton came right out and said, \"More like you stabbed some rustling bushes and it turned out to be Small Paul taking a shit, so you came up with a lie.\"\n\nBut Dywen listened, and Dolorous Edd, and they made Sam and Grenn tell the Lord Commander. Mormont frowned all through the tale and asked pointed questions, but he was too cautious a man to shun any possible advantage. He asked Sam for all the dragonglass in his pack, though that was little enough. Whenever Sam thought of the cache Jon had found buried beneath the Fist, it made him want to cry. There'd been dagger blades and spearheads, and two or three hundred arrowheads at least. Jon had made daggers for himself, Sam, and Lord Commander Mormont, and he'd given Sam a spearhead, an old broken horn, and some arrowheads. Grenn had taken a handful of arrowheads as well, but that was all.\n\nSo now all they had was Mormont's dagger and the one Sam had given Grenn, plus nineteen arrows and a tall hardwood spear with a black dragonglass head. The sentries passed the spear along from watch to watch, while Mormont had divided the arrows among his best bowmen. Muttering Bill, Garth Greyfeather, Ronnel Harclay, Sweet Donnel Hill, and Alan of Rosby had three apiece, and Ulmer had four. But even if they made every shaft tell, they'd soon be down to fire arrows like all the rest. They had loosed hundreds of fire arrows on the Fist, yet still the wights kept coming."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It will not be enough, Sam thought."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Craster's sloping palisades of mud and melting snow would hardly slow the wights, who'd climbed the much steeper slopes of the Fist to swarm over the ringwall. And instead of three hundred brothers drawn up in disciplined ranks to meet them, the wights would find forty-one ragged survivors, nine too badly hurt to fight. Forty-four had come straggling into Craster's out of the storm, out of the sixty-odd who'd cut their way free of the Fist, but three of those had died of their wounds, and Bannen would soon make four.\n\n\"Do you think the wights are gone?\" Sam asked Grenn. \"Why don't they come finish us?\"\n\n\"They only come when it's cold.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Sam, \"but is it the cold that brings the wights, or the wights that bring the cold?\"\n\n\"Who cares?\" Grenn's axe sent wood chips flying. \"They come together, that's what matters. Hey, now that we know that dragonglass kills them, maybe they won't come at all. Maybe they're frightened of us now!\"\n\nSam wished he could believe that, but it seemed to him that when you were dead, fear had no more meaning than pain or love or duty. He wrapped his hands around his legs, sweating under his layers of wool and leather and fur. The dragonglass dagger had melted the pale thing in the woods, true... but Grenn was talking like it would do the same to the wights. We don't know that, he thought. We don't know anything, really. I wish Jon was here. He liked Grenn, but he couldn't talk to him the same way. Jon wouldn't call me Slayer, I know. And I could talk to him about Gilly's baby. Jon had ridden off with Qhorin Halfhand, though, and they'd had no word of him since. He had a dragonglass dagger too, but did he think to use it? Is he lying dead and frozen in some ravine... or worse, is he dead and walking?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could not understand why the gods would want to take Jon Snow and Bannen and leave him, craven and clumsy as he was. He should have died on the Fist, where he'd pissed himself three times and lost his sword besides. And he would have died in the woods if Small Paul had not come along to carry him. I wish it was all a dream. Then I could wake up. How fine that would be, to wake back on the Fist of the First Men with all his brothers still around him, even Jon and Ghost. Or even better, to wake in Castle Black behind the Wall and go to the common room fora bowl of Three-Finger Hobb's thick cream of wheat, with a big spoon of butter melting in the middle and a dollop of honey besides. Just the thought of it made his empty stomach rumble.\n\n\"Snow.\"\n\nSam glanced up at the sound. Lord Commander Mormont's raven was circling the fire, beating the air with wide black wings.\n\n\"Snow,\" the bird cawed. \"Snow, snow.\"\n\nWherever the raven went, Mormont soon followed. The Lord Commander emerged from beneath the trees, mounted on his garron between old Dywen and the fox-faced ranger Ronnel Harclay, who'd been raised to Thoren Smallwood's place. The spearmen at the gate shouted a challenge, and the Old Bear returned a gruff, \"Who in seven hells do you think goes there? Did the Others take your eyes?\" He rode between the gateposts, one bearing a ram's skull and the other the skull of a bear, then reined up, raised a fist, and whistled. The raven came flapping down at his call.\n\n\"My lord,\" Sam heard Ronnel Harclay say, \"we have only twenty-two mounts, and I doubt half will reach the Wall.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know that,\" Mormont grumbled. \"We must go all the same. Craster's made that plain.\" He glanced to the west, where a bank of dark clouds hid the sun. \"The gods gave us a respite, but for how long?\" Mormont swung down from the saddle, jolting his raven back into the air. He saw Sam then, and bellowed, \"Tarly!\"\n\n\"Me?\" Sam got awkwardly to his feet.\n\n\"Me?\" The raven landed on the old man's head. \"Me?\"\n\n\"Is your name Tarly? Do you have a brother hereabouts? Yes, you. Close your mouth and come with me.\"\n\n\"With you?\" The words tumbled out in a squeak.\n\nLord Commander Mormont gave him a withering look. \"You area man of the Night's Watch. Try not to soil your smallclothes every time I look at you. Come, I said.\" His boots made squishing sounds in the mud, and Sam had to hurry to keep up. \"I've been thinking about this dragonglass of yours.\"\n\n\"It's not mine,\" Sam said.\n\n\"Jon Snow's dragonglass, then. If dragonglass daggers are what we need, why do we have only two of them? Every man on the Wall should be armed with one the day he says his words.\"\n\n\"We never knew...\"\n\n\"We never knew! But we must have known once. The Night's Watch has forgotten its true purpose, Tarly. You don't build a wall seven hundred feet high to keep savages in skins from stealing women. The Wall was made to guard the realms of men... and not against other men, which is all the wildlings are when you come right down to it. Too many years, Tarly, too many hundreds and thousands of years. We lost sight of the true enemy. And now he's here, but we don't know how to fight him. Is dragonglass made by dragons, as the smallfolk like to say?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Them-maesters think not,\" Sam stammered. \"The maesters say it comes from the fires of the earth. They call it obsidian.\"\n\nMormont snorted. \"They can call it lemon pie for all I care. If it kills as you claim, I want more of it.\"\n\nSam stumbled. \"Jon found more, on the Fist. Hundreds of arrowheads, spearheads as well...\"\n\n\"So you said. Small good it does us there. To reach the Fist again we'd need to be armed with the weapons we won't have until we reach the bloody Fist. And there are still the wildlings to deal with. We need to find dragonglass someplace else.\"\n\nSam had almost forgotten about the wildlings, so much had happened since. \"The children of the forest used dragonglass blades,\" he said. \"They'd know whereto find obsidian.\"\n\n\"The children of the forest are all dead,\" said Mormont. \"The First Men killed half of them with bronze blades, and the Andals finished the job with iron. Why a glass dagger should-\"\n\nThe Old Bear broke off as Craster emerged from between the deerhide flaps of his door. The wildling smiled, revealing a mouth of brown rotten teeth. \"I have a son.\"\n\n\"Son,\" cawed Mormont's raven. \"Son, son, son.\"\n\nThe Lord Commander's face was stiff. \"I'm glad for you.\"\n\n\"Are you, now? Me, I'll be glad when you and yours are gone. Past time, I'm thinking.\"\n\n\"As soon as our wounded are strong enough...\"\n\n\"They're strong as they're like to get, old crow, and both of us know it. Them that's dying, you know them too, cut their bloody throats and be done with it. Or leave them, if you don't have the stomach, and I'll sort them out myself.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Commander Mormont bristled. \"Thoren Smallwood claimed you were a friend to the Watch-\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Craster. \"I gave you all I could spare, but winter's coming on, and now the girl's stuck me with another squalling mouth to feed.\"\n\n\"We could take him,\" someone squeaked.\n\nCraster's head turned. His eyes narrowed. He spat on Sam's foot. \"What did you say, Slayer?\"\n\nSam opened and closed his mouth. \"I... I... I only meant... if you didn't want him... his mouth to feed... with winter coming on, we... we could take him, and...\"\n\n\"My son. My blood. You think I'd give him to you crows?\"\n\n\"I only thought...\" You have no sons, you expose them, Gilly said as much, you leave them in the woods, that's why you have only wives here, and daughters who grow up to be wives.\n\n\"Be quiet, Sam,\" said Lord Commander Mormont. \"You've said enough. Too much. Inside.\"\n\n\"M-my lord-\"\n\n\"Inside!\"\n\nRed-faced, Sam pushed through the deerhides, back into the gloom of the hall. Mormont followed. \"How great a fool are you?\" the old man said within, his voice choked and angry. \"Even if Craster gave us the child, he'd be dead before we reached the Wall. We need a newborn babe to care for near as much as we need more snow. Do you have milk to feed him in those big teats of yours? Or did you mean to take the mother too?\"\n\n\"She wants to come,\" Sam said. \"She begged me...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mormont raised a hand. \"I will hear no more of this, Tarly. You've been told and told to stay well away from Craster's wives.\"\n\n\"She's his daughter,\" Sam said feebly.\n\n\"Go see to Bannen. Now. Before you make me wroth.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\" Sam hurried off quivering.\n\nBut when he reached the fire, it was only to find Giant pulling a fur cloak up over Bannen's head. \"He said he was cold,\" the small man said. \"I hope he's gone someplace warm, I do.\"\n\n\"His wound...\" said Sam.\n\n\"Bugger his wound.\" Dirk prodded the corpse with his foot. \"His foot was hurt. I knew a man back in my village lost afoot. He lived to nine-and-forty.\"\n\n\"The cold,\" said Sam. \"He was never warm.\"\n\n\"He was never fed,\" said Dirk. \"Not proper. That bastard Craster starved him dead.\"\n\nSam looked around anxiously, but Craster had not returned to the hall. If he had, things might have grown ugly. The wildling hated bastards, though the rangers said he was baseborn himself, fathered on a wildling woman by some long-dead crow.\n\n\"Craster's got his own to feed,\" said Giant. \"All these women. He's given us what he can.\"\n\n\"Don't you bloody believe it. The day we leave, he'll tap a keg o'mead and sit down to feast on ham and honey. And laugh at us, out starving in the snow. He's a bloody wildling, is all he is. There's none o\" them friends of the Watch.\" He kicked at Bannen's corpse. \"Ask him if you don't believe me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They burned the ranger's corpse at sunset, in the fire that Grenn had been feeding earlier that day. Tim Stone and Garth of Oldtown carried out the naked corpse and swung him twice between them before heaving him into the flames. The surviving brothers divided up his clothes, his weapons, his armor, and everything else he owned. At Castle Black, the Night's Watch buried its dead with all due ceremony. They were not at Castle Black, though. And bones do not comeback as wights.\n\n\"His name was Bannen,\" Lord Commander Mormont said, as the flames took him. \"He was a brave man, a good ranger. He came to us from... where did he come from?\"\n\n\"Down White Harbor way,\" someone called out.\n\nMormont nodded. \"He came to us from White Harbor, and never failed in his duty. He kept his vows as best he could, rode far, fought fiercely. We shall never see his like again.\"\n\n\"And now his watch is ended,\" the black brothers said, in solemn chant.\n\n\"And now his watch is ended,\" Mormont echoed.\n\n\"Ended,\" cried his raven. \"Ended.\"\n\nSam was red-eyed and sick from the smoke. When he looked at the fire, he thought he saw Bannen sitting up, his hands coiling into fists as if to fight off the flames that were consuming him, but it was only for an instant, before the swirling smoke hid all. The worst thing was the smell, though. If it had been afoul unpleasant smell he might have stood it, but his burning brother smelled so much like roast pork that Sam's mouth began to water, and that was so horrible that as soon as the bird squawked'Ended\" he ran behind the hall to throw up in the ditch."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was thereon his knees in the mud when Dolorous Edd came up. \"Digging for worms, Sam? Or are you just sick?\"\n\n\"Sick,\" said Sam weakly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. \"The smell...\"\n\n\"Never knew Bannen could smell so good.\" Edd's tone was as morose as ever. \"I had half a mind to carve a slice off him. If we had some applesauce, I might have done it. Pork's always best with applesauce, I find.\" Edd undid his laces and pulled out his cock. \"You best not die, Sam, or I fear I might succumb. There's bound to be more crackling on you than Bannen ever had, and I never could resist a bit of crackling.\" He sighed as his piss arced out, yellow and steaming. \"We ride at first light, did you hear? Sun or snow, the Old Bear tells me.\"\n\nSun or snow. Sam glanced up anxiously at the sky. \"Snow?\" he squeaked. \"We... ride? All of us?\"\n\n\"Well, no, some will need to walk.\" He shook himself. \"Dywen now, he says we need to learn to ride dead horses, like the Others do. He claims it would save on feed. How much could a dead horse eat?\" Edd laced himself backup. \"Can't say I fancy the notion. Once they figure away to work a dead horse, we'll be next. Likely I'll be the first too.\"Edd, \"they'll say, \"dying's no excuse for lying down no more, so get on up and take this spear, you've got the watch tonight.\" Well, I shouldn't be so gloomy. Might be I'll die before they work it out.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Might be we'll all die, and sooner than we'd like, Sam thought, as he climbed awkwardly to his feet.\n\nWhen Craster learned that his unwanted guests would be departing on the morrow, the wildling became almost amiable, or as close to amiable as Craster ever got. \"Past time,\" he said, \"you don't belong here, I told you that. All the same, I'll see you off proper, with a feast. Well, a feed. My wives can roast them horses you slaughtered, and I'll find some beer and bread.\" He smiled his brown smile. \"Nothing better than beer and horsemeat. If you can't ride \"em, eat'em, that's what I say.\"\n\nHis wives and daughters dragged out the benches and the long log tables, and cooked and served as well. Except for Gilly, Sam could hardly tell the women apart. Some were old and some were young and some were only girls, but a lot of them were Craster's daughters as well as his wives, and they all looked sort of alike. As they went about their work, they spoke in soft voices to each other, but never to the men in black.\n\nCraster owned but one chair. He satin it, clad in a sleeveless sheepskin jerkin. His thick arms were covered with white hair, and about one wrist was a twisted ring of gold. Lord Commander Mormont took the place at the top of the bench to his right, while the brothers crowded in knee to knee; a dozen remained outside to guard the gate and tend the fires.\n\nSam found a place between Grenn and Orphan Oss, his stomach rumbling. The charred horsemeat dripped with grease as Craster's wives turned the spits above the firepit, and the smell of it set his mouth to watering again, but that reminded him of Bannen. Hungry as he was, Sam knew he would retch if he so much as tried a bite. How could they eat the poor faithful garrons who had carried them so far? When Craster's wives brought onions, he seized one eagerly. One side was black with rot, but he cut that part off with his dagger and ate the good half raw. There was bread as well, but only two loaves. When Ulmer asked for more, the woman only shook her head. That was when the trouble started."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Two loaves?\" Clubfoot Karl complained from down the bench. \"How stupid are you women? We need more bread than this!\"\n\nLord Commander Mormont gave him a hard look. \"Take what you're given, and be thankful. Would you sooner be out in the storm eating snow?\"\n\n\"We'll be there soon enough.\" Clubfoot Karl did not flinch from the Old Bear's wrath. \"I'd sooner eat what Craster's hiding, my lord.\"\n\nCraster narrowed his eyes. \"I gave you crows enough. I got me women to feed.\"\n\nDirk speared a chunk of horsemeat. \"Aye. So you admit you got a secret larder. How else to make it through a winter?\"\n\n\"I'm a godly man...\" Craster started.\n\n\"You're a niggardly man,\" said Karl, \"and a liar.\"\n\n\"Hams,\" Garth of Oldtown said, in a reverent voice. \"There were pigs, last time we come. I bet he's got hams hid someplace. Smoked and salted hams, and bacon too.\"\n\n\"Sausage,\" said Dirk. \"Them long black ones, they're like rocks, they keep for years. I bet he's got a hundred hanging in some cellar.\"\n\n\"Oats,\" suggested Ollo Lophand. \"Corn. Barley.\"\n\n\"Corn,\" said Mormont's raven, with a flap of the wings. \"Corn, corn, corn, corn, corn.\"\n\n\"Enough,\" said Lord Commander Mormont over the bird's raucous calls. \"Be quiet, all of you. This is folly.\"\n\n\"Apples,\" said Garth of Greenaway. \"Barrels and barrels of crisp autumn apples. There are apple trees out there, I saw 'em.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Dried berries."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cabbages. Pine nuts.\"\n\n\"Corn. Corn. Corn.\"\n\n\"Salt mutton. There's a sheepfold. He's got casks and casks of mutton laid by, you know he does.\"\n\nCraster looked fit to spit them all by then. Lord Commander Mormont rose. \"Silence. I'll hear no more such talk.\"\n\n\"Then stuff bread in your ears, old man.\" Clubfoot Karl pushed back from the table. \"Or did you swallow your bloody crumb already?\"\n\nSam saw the Old Bear's face gored. \"Have you forgotten who I am? Sit, eat, and be silent. That is a command.\"\n\nNo one spoke. No one moved. All eyes were on the Lord Commander and the big clubfooted ranger, as the two of them stared at each other across the table. It seemed to Sam that Karl broke first, and was about to sit, though sullenly...\n\n... but Craster stood, and his axe was in his hand. The big black steel axe that Mormont had given him as a guest gift. \"No,\" he growled. \"You'll not sit. No one who calls me niggard will sleep beneath my roof nor eat at my board. Outwith you, cripple. And you and you and you.\" He jabbed the head of the axe toward Dirk and Garth and Garth in turn. \"Go sleep in the cold with empty bellies, the lot o\" you, or...\"\n\n\"Bloody bastard!\" Sam heard one of the Garths curse. He never saw which one.\n\n\"Who calls me bastard?\" Craster roared, sweeping platter and meat and wine cups from the table with his left hand while lifting the axe with his right."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's no more than all men know,\" Karl answered.\n\nCraster moved quicker than Sam would have believed possible, vaulting across the table with axe in hand. A woman screamed, Garth Greenaway and Orphan Oss drew knives, Karl stumbled back and tripped over Ser Byam lying wounded on the floor. One instant Craster was coming after him spitting curses. The next he was spitting blood. Dirk had grabbed him by the hair, yanked his head back, and opened his throat ear to ear with one long slash. Then he gave him a rough shove, and the wildling fell forward, crashing face first across Ser Byam. Byam screamed in agony as Craster drowned in his own blood, the axe slipping from his fingers. Two of Craster's wives were wailing, a third cursed, a fourth flew at Sweet Donnel and tried to scratch his eyes out. He knocked her to the floor. The Lord Commander stood over Craster's corpse, dark with anger. \"The gods will curse us,\" he cried. \"There is no crime so foul as fora guest to bring murder into a man's hall. By all the laws of the hearth, we-\"\n\n\"There are no laws beyond the Wall, old man. Remember?\" Dirk grabbed one of Craster's wives by the arm, and shoved the point of his bloody dirk up under her chin. \"Show us where he keeps the food, or you'll get the same as he did, woman.\"\n\n\"Unhand her.\" Mormont took a step. \"I'll have your head for this, you-\"\n\nGarth of Greenaway blocked his path, and Ollo Lophand yanked him back. They both had blades in hand. \"Hold your tongue,\" Ollo warned. Instead the Lord Commander grabbed for his dagger. Ollo had only one hand, but that was quick. He twisted free of the old man's grasp, shoved the knife into Mormont's belly, and yanked it out again, all red. And then the world went mad."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Later, much later, Sam found himself sitting crosslegged on the floor, with Mormont's head in his lap. He did not remember how they'd gotten there, or much of anything else that had happened after the Old Bear was stabbed. Garth of Greenaway had killed Garth of Oldtown, he recalled, but not why. Rolley of Sisterton had fallen from the loft and broken his neck after climbing the ladder to have a taste of Craster's wives. Grenn...\n\nGrenn had shouted and slapped him, and then he'd runaway with Giant and Dolorous Edd and some others. Craster still sprawled across Ser Byam, but the wounded knight no longer moaned. Four men in black sat on the bench eating chunks of burned horsemeat while Ollo coupled with a weeping woman on the table.\n\n\"Tarly.\" When he tried to speak, the blood dribbled from the Old Bear's mouth down into his beard. \"Tarly, go. Go.\"\n\n\"Where, my lord?\" His voice was flat and lifeless. I am not afraid. It was a queer feeling. \"There's no place to go.\"\n\n\"The Wall. Make for the Wall. Now.\"\n\n\"Now,\" squawked the raven. \"Now. Now.\" The bird walked up the old man's arm to his chest, and plucked a hair from his beard.\n\n\"You must. Must tell them.\"\n\n\"Tell them what, my lord?\" Sam asked politely.\n\n\"All. The Fist. The wildlings. Dragonglass. This. All.\" His breathing was very shallow now, his voice a whisper. \"Tell my son. Jorah. Tell him, take the black. My wish. Dying wish.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Wish?\" The raven cocked its head, beady black eyes shining. \"Corn?\" the bird asked.\n\n\"No corn,\" said Mormont feebly. \"Tell Jorah. Forgive him. My son. Please. Go.\"\n\n\"It's too far,\" said Sam. \"I'll never reach the Wall, my lord.\" He was so very tired. All he wanted was to sleep, to sleep and sleep and never wake, and he knew that if he just stayed here soon enough Dirk or Ollo Lophand or Clubfoot Karl would get angry with him and grant his wish, just to see him die. \"I'd sooner stay with you. See, I'm not frightened anymore. Of you, or... of anything.\"\n\n\"You should be,\" said a woman's voice.\n\nThree of Craster's wives were standing over them. Two were haggard old women he did not know, but Gilly was between them, all bundled up in skins and cradling a bundle of brown and white fur that must have held her baby. \"We're not supposed to talk to Craster's wives,\" Sam told them. \"We have orders.\"\n\n\"That's done now,\" said the old woman on the right.\n\n\"The blackest crows are down in the cellar, gorging,\" said the old woman on the left, \"or up in the loft with the young ones. They'll be back soon, though. Best you begone when they do. The horses runoff, but Dyah's caught two.\"\n\n\"You said you'd help me,\" Gilly reminded him.\n\n\"I said Jon would help you. Jon's brave, and he's a good fighter, but I think he's dead now. I'm a craven. And fat. Look how fat I am. Besides, Lord Mormont's hurt. Can't you see? I couldn't leave the Lord Commander.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Child,\" said the other old woman, \"that old crow's gone before you. Look.\"\n\nMormont's head was still in his lap, but his eyes were open and staring and his lips no longer moved. The raven cocked its head and squawked, then looked up at Sam. \"Corn?\"\n\n\"No corn. He has no corn.\" Sam closed the Old Bear's eyes and tried to think of a prayer, but all that came to mind was, \"Mother have mercy. Mother have mercy. Mother have mercy.\"\n\n\"Your mother can't help you none,\" said the old woman on the left. \"That dead old man can't neither. You take his sword and you take that big warm fur cloak o' his and you take his horse if you can find him. And you go.\"\n\n\"The girl don't lie,\" the old woman on the right said. \"She's my girl, and I beat the lying out of her early on. You said you'd help her. Do what Ferny says, boy. Take the girl and be quick about it.\"\n\n\"Quick,\" the raven said. \"Quick quick quick.\"\n\n\"Where?\" asked Sam, puzzled. \"Where should I take her?\"\n\n\"Someplace warm,\" the two old women said as one.\n\nGilly was crying. \"Me and the babe. Please. I'll be your wife, like I was Craster's. Please, ser crow. He's a boy, just like Nella said he'd be. If you don't take him, they will.\"\n\n\"They?\" said Sam, and the raven cocked its blackhead and echoed, \"They. They. They.\"\n\n\"The boy's brothers,\" said the old woman on the left. \"Craster's sons. The white cold's rising out there, crow. I can feel it in my bones. These poor old bones don't lie. They'll be here soon, the sons.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "ARYA\n\nHer eyes had grown accustomed to blackness. When Harwin pulled the hood off her head, the ruddy glare inside the hollow hill made Arya blink like some stupid owl.\n\nA huge firepit had been dug in the center of the earthen floor, and its flames rose swirling and crackling toward the smoke-stained ceiling. The walls were equal parts stone and soil, with huge white roots twisting through them like a thousand slow pale snakes. People were emerging from between those roots as she watched; edging out from the shadows fora look at the captives, stepping from the mouths of pitch-black tunnels, popping out of crannies and crevices on all sides. In one place on the far side of the fire, the roots formed a kind of stairway up to a hollow in the earth where a man sat almost lost in the tangle of weirwood.\n\nLem unhooded Gendry. \"What is this place?\" he asked.\n\n\"An old place, deep and secret. A refuge where neither wolves nor lions come prowling.\"\n\nNeither wolves nor lions. Arya's skin prickled. She remembered the dream she'd had, and the taste of blood when she tore the man's arm from his shoulder.\n\nBig as the fire was, the cave was bigger; it was hard to tell where it began and where it ended. The tunnel mouths might have been two feet deep or gone on two miles. Arya saw men and women and little children, all of them watching her warily.\n\nGreenbeard said, \"Here's the wizard, skinny squirrel. You'll get your answers now.\" He pointed toward the fire, where Tom Sevenstrings stood talking to a tall thin man with oddments of old armor buckled on over his ratty pink robes. That can't be Thoros of Myr. Arya remembered the red priest as fat, with a smooth face and a shiny bald head. This man had a droopy face and a full head of shaggy grey hair. Something Tom said made him look at her, and Arya thought he was about to come over to her. Only then the Mad Huntsman appeared, shoving his captive down into the light, and she and Gendry were forgotten."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Huntsman had turned out to be a stocky man in patched tan leathers, balding and weak-chinned and quarrelsome. At Stoney Sept she had thought that Lem and Greenbeard might be torn to pieces when they faced him at the crow cages to claim his captive for the lightning lord. The hounds had been all around them, sniffing and snarling. But Tom o' Sevens soothed them with his playing, Tansy marched across the square with her apron full of bones and fatty mutton, and Lem pointed out Anguy in the brothel window, standing with an arrow notched. The Mad Huntsman had cursed them all for lickspittles, but finally he had agreed to take his prize to Lord Beric for judgment.\n\nThey had bound his wrists with hempen rope, strung a noose around his neck, and pulled a sack down over his head, but even so there was danger in the man. Arya could feel it across the cave. Thoros-if that was Thoros-met captor and captive halfway to the fire. \"How did you take him?\" the priest asked.\n\n\"The dogs caught the scent. He was sleeping off a drunk under a willow tree, if you believe it.\"\n\n\"Betrayed by his own kind.\" Thoros turned to the prisoner and yanked his hood off. \"Welcome to our humble hall, dog. It is not so grand as Robert's throne room, but the company is better.\"\n\nThe shifting flames painted Sandor Clegane's burned face with orange shadows, so he looked even more terrible than he did in daylight. When he pulled at the rope that bound his wrists, flakes of dry blood fell off. The Hound's mouth twitched. \"I know you,\" he said to Thoros."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You did. In mêlées, you'd curse my flaming sword, though thrice I overthrew you with it.\"\n\n\"Thoros of Myr. You used to shave your head.\"\n\n\"To betoken a humble heart, but in truth my heart was vain. Besides, I lost my razor in the woods.\" The priest slapped his belly. \"I am less than I was, but more. A year in the wild will melt the flesh off a man. Would that I could find a tailor to take in my skin. I might look young again, and pretty maids would shower me with kisses.\"\n\n\"Only the blind ones, priest.\"\n\nThe outlaws hooted, none so loud as Thoros. \"Just so. Yet I am not the false priest you knew. The Lord of Light has woken in my heart. Many powers long asleep are waking, and there are forces moving in the land. I have seen them in my flames.\"\n\nThe Hound was unimpressed. \"Bugger your flames. And you as well.\" He looked around at the others. \"You keep queer company fora holy man.\"\n\n\"These are my brothers,\" Thoros said simply.\n\nLem Lemoncloak pushed forward. He and Greenbeard were the only men there tall enough to look the Hound in the eye. \"Be careful how you bark, dog. We hold your life in our hands.\"\n\n\"Best wipe the shit off your fingers, then.\" The Hound laughed. \"How long have you been hiding in this hole?\"\n\nAnguy the Archer bristled at the suggestion of cowardice. \"Ask the goat if we've hidden, Hound. Ask your brother. Ask the lord of leeches. We've bloodied them all.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You lot?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Don't make me laugh. You look more swineherds than soldiers.\"\n\n\"Some of us was swineherds,\" said a short man Arya did not know. \"And some was tanners or singers or masons. But that was before the war come.\"\n\n\"When we left King's Landing we were men of Winterfell and men of Darry and men of Blackhaven, Mallery men and Wylde men. We were knights and squires and men-at-arms, lords and commoners, bound together only by our purpose.\" The voice came from the man seated amongst the weirwood roots halfway up the wall. \"Six score of us set out to bring the king's justice to your brother.\" The speaker was descending the tangle of steps toward the floor. \"Six score brave men and true, led by a fool in a starry cloak.\" A scarecrow of a man, he wore a ragged black cloak speckled with stars and an iron breastplate dinted by a hundred battles. A thicket of red-gold hair hid most of his face, save fora bald spot above his left ear where his head had been smashed in. \"More than eighty of our company are dead now, but others have taken up the swords that fell from their hands.\" When he reached the floor, the outlaws moved aside to let him pass. One of his eyes was gone, Arya saw, the flesh about the socket scarred and puckered, and he had a dark black ring all around his neck. \"With their help, we fight on as best we can, for Robert and the realm.\"\n\n\"Robert?\" rasped Sandor Clegane, incredulous.\n\n\"Ned Stark sent us out,\" said pothelmed Jack-Be-Lucky, \"but he was sitting the Iron Throne when he gave us our commands, so we were never truly his men, but Robert's.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Robert is the king of the worms now."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Is that why you're down in the earth, to keep his court for him?\"\n\n\"The king is dead,\" the scarecrow knight admitted, \"but we are still king's men, though the royal banner we bore was lost at the Mummer's Ford when your brother's butchers fell upon us.\" He touched his breast with a fist. \"Robert is slain, but his realm remains. And we defend her.\"\n\n\"Her?\" The Hound snorted. \"Is she your mother, Dondarrion? Or your whore?\"\n\nDondarrion? Beric Dondarrion had been handsome; Sansa's friend Jeyne had fallen in love with him. Even Jeyne Poole was not so blind as to think this man was fair. Yet when Arya looked at him again, she saw it; the remains of a forked purple lightning bolt on the cracked enamel of his breastplate.\n\n\"Rocks and trees and rivers, that's what your realm is made of,\" the Hound was saying. \"Do the rocks need defending? Robert wouldn't have thought so. If he couldn't fuck it, fight it, or drink it, it bored him, and so would you... you brave companions.\"\n\nOutrage swept the hollow hill. \"Callus that name again, dog, and you'll swallow that tongue.\" Lem drew his longsword.\n\nThe Hound stared at the blade with contempt. \"Here's a brave man, baring steel on abound captive. Untie me, why don't you? We'll see how brave you are then.\" He glanced at the Mad Huntsman behind him. \"How about you? Or did you leave all your courage in your kennels?\"\n\n\"No, but I should have left you in a crow cage.\" The Huntsman drew a knife. \"I might still.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Hound laughed in his face.\n\n\"We are brothers here,\" Thoros of Myr declared. \"Holy brothers, sworn to the realm, to our god, and to each other.\"\n\n\"The brotherhood without banners.\" Tom Sevenstrings plucked a string. \"The knights of the hollow hill.\"\n\n\"Knights?\" Clegane made the word a sneer. \"Dondarrion's a knight, but the rest of you are the sorriest lot of outlaws and broken men I've ever seen. I shit better men than you.\"\n\n\"Any knight can make a knight,\" said the scarecrow that was Beric Dondarrion, \"and every man you see before you has felt a sword upon his shoulder. We are the forgotten fellowship.\"\n\n\"Send me on my way and I'll forget you too,\" Clegane rasped. \"But if you mean to murder me, then bloody well get on with it. You took my sword, my horse, and my gold, so take my life and be done with it... but spare me this pious bleating.\"\n\n\"You will die soon enough, dog,\" promised Thoros, \"but it shan't be murder, only justice.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said the Mad Huntsman, \"and a kinder fate than you deserve for all your kind have done. Lions, you call yourselves. At Sherrer and the Mummer's Ford, girls of six and seven years were raped, and babes still on the breast were cut in two while their mothers watched. No lion ever killed so cruel.\"\n\n\"I was not at Sherrer, nor the Mummer's Ford,\" the Hound told him. \"Lay your dead children at some other door.\"\n\nThoros answered him. \"Do you deny that House Clegane was built upon dead children? I saw them lay Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys before the Iron Throne. By rights your arms should bear two bloody infants in place of those ugly dogs.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Hound's mouth twitched."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you take me for my brother? Is being born Clegane a crime?\"\n\n\"Murder is a crime.\"\n\n\"Who did I murder?\"\n\n\"Lord Lothar Mallery and Ser Gladden Wylde,\" said Harwin.\n\n\"My brothers Lister and Lennocks,\" declared Jack-Be-Lucky.\n\n\"Goodman Beck and Mudge the miller's son, from Donnelwood,\" an old woman called from the shadows.\n\n\"Merriman's widow, who loved so sweet,\" added Greenbeard.\n\n\"Them septons at Sludgy Pond.\"\n\n\"Ser Andrey Charlton. His squire Lucas Roote. Every man, woman, and child in Fieldstone and Mousedown Mill.\"\n\n\"Lord and Lady Deddings, that was so rich.\"\n\nTom Sevenstrings took up the count. \"Alyn of Winterfell, Joth Quick-bow, Little Matt and his sister Randa, Anvil Ryn. Ser Ormond. Ser Dudley. Pate of Mory, Pate of Lancewood, Old Pate, and Pate of Shermer's Grove. Blind Wyl the Whittler. Goodwife Maerie. Maerie the Whore. Becca the Baker. Ser Raymun Darry, Lord Darry, young Lord Darry. The Bastard of Bracken. Fletcher Will. Harsley. Goodwife Nolla-\"\n\n\"Enough.\" The Hound's face was tight with anger. \"You're making noise. These names mean nothing. Who were they?\"\n\n\"People,\" said Lord Beric. \"People great and small, young and old. Good people and bad people, who died on the points of Lannister spears or saw their bellies opened by Lannister swords.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It wasn't my sword in their bellies. Any man who says it was is a bloody liar.\"\n\n\"You serve the Lannisters of Casterly Rock,\" said Thoros.\n\n\"Once. Me and thousands more. Is each of us guilty of the crimes of the others?\" Clegane spat. \"Might be you are knights after all. You lie like knights, maybe you murder like knights.\"\n\nLem and Jack-Be-Lucky began to shout at him, but Dondarrion raised a hand for silence. \"Say what you mean, Clegane.\"\n\n\"A knight's a sword with a horse. The rest, the vows and the sacred oils and the lady's favors, they're silk ribbons tied round the sword. Maybe the sword's prettier with ribbons hanging off it, but it will kill you just as dead. Well, bugger your ribbons, and shove your swords up your arses. I'm the same as you. The only difference is, I don't lie about what I am. So kill me, but don't call me a murderer while you stand there telling each other that your shit don't stink. You hear me?\"\n\nArya squirted past Greenbeard so fast he never saw her. \"You area murderer!\" she screamed. \"You killed Mycah, don't say you never did. You murdered him!\"\n\nThe Hound stared at her with no flicker of recognition. \"And who was this Mycah, boy?\"\n\n\"I'm not a boy! But Mycah was. He was a butcher's boy and you killed him. Jory said you cut him near in half, and he never even had a sword.\" She could feel them looking at her now, the women and the children and the men who called themselves the knights of the hollow hill. \"Who's this now?\" someone asked."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's narrative assistant, advance the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 36"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It wasn't my sword in their bellies. Any man who says it was is a bloody liar.\"\n\n\"You serve the Lannisters of Casterly Rock,\" said Thoros.\n\n\"Once. Me and thousands more. Is each of us guilty of the crimes of the others?\" Clegane spat. \"Might be you are knights after all. You lie like knights, maybe you murder like knights.\"\n\nLem and Jack-Be-Lucky began to shout at him, but Dondarrion raised a hand for silence. \"Say what you mean, Clegane.\"\n\n\"A knight's a sword with a horse. The rest, the vows and the sacred oils and the lady's favors, they're silk ribbons tied round the sword. Maybe the sword's prettier with ribbons hanging off it, but it will kill you just as dead. Well, bugger your ribbons, and shove your swords up your arses. I'm the same as you. The only difference is, I don't lie about what I am. So kill me, but don't call me a murderer while you stand there telling each other that your shit don't stink. You hear me?\"\n\nArya squirted past Greenbeard so fast he never saw her. \"You area murderer!\" she screamed. \"You killed Mycah, don't say you never did. You murdered him!\"\n\nThe Hound stared at her with no flicker of recognition. \"And who was this Mycah, boy?\"\n\n\"I'm not a boy! But Mycah was. He was a butcher's boy and you killed him. Jory said you cut him near in half, and he never even had a sword.\" She could feel them looking at her now, the women and the children and the men who called themselves the knights of the hollow hill. \"Who's this now?\" someone asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Hound answered."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Seven hells. The little sister. The brat who tossed Joff's pretty sword in the river.\" He gave a bark of laughter. \"Don't you know you're dead?\"\n\n\"No, you're dead,\" she threw back at him.\n\nHarwin took her arm to draw her back as Lord Beric said, \"The girl has named you a murderer. Do you deny killing this butcher's boy, Mycah?\"\n\nThe big man shrugged. \"I was Joffrey's sworn shield. The butcher's boy attacked a prince of the blood.\"\n\n\"That's a lie!\" Arya squirmed in Harwin's grip. \"It was me. I hit Joffrey and threw Lion's Paw in the river. Mycah just ran away, like I told him.\"\n\n\"Did you seethe boy attack Prince Joffrey?\" Lord Beric Dondarrion asked the Hound.\n\n\"I heard it from the royal lips. It's not my place to question princes.\" Clegane jerked his hands toward Arya. \"This one's own sister told the same tale when she stood before your precious Robert.\"\n\n\"Sansa's just a liar,\" Arya said, furious at her sister allover again. \"It wasn't like she said. It wasn't.\"\n\nThoros drew Lord Beric aside. The two men stood talking in low whispers while Arya seethed. They have to kill him. I prayed for him to die, hundreds and hundreds of times.\n\nBeric Dondarrion turned back to the Hound. \"You stand accused of murder, but no one here knows the truth or falsehood of the charge, so it is not for us to judge you. Only the Lord of Light may do that now. I sentence you to trial by battle.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Hound frowned suspiciously, as if he did not trust his ears. \"Are you a fool or a madman?\"\n\n\"Neither. I am a just lord. Prove your innocence with a blade, and you shall be free to go.\"\n\n\"No,\" Arya cried, before Harwin covered her mouth. No, they can't, he'll go free. The Hound was deadly with a sword, everyone knew that. He'll laugh at them, she thought.\n\nAnd so he did, along rasping laugh that echoed off the cave walls, a laugh choking with contempt. \"So who will it be?\" He looked at Lem Lemoncloak. \"The brave man in the piss-yellow cloak? No? How about you, Huntsman? You've kicked dogs before, try me.\" He saw Greenbeard. \"You're big enough, Tyrosh, step forward. Or do you mean to make the little girl fight me herself?\" He laughed again. \"Come on, who wants to die?\"\n\n\"It's me you'll face,\" said Lord Beric Dondarrion.\n\nArya remembered all the tales. He can't be killed, she thought, hoping against hope. The Mad Huntsman sliced apart the ropes that bound Sandor Clegane's hands together. \"I'll need sword and armor.\" The Hound rubbed a torn wrist.\n\n\"Your sword you shall have,\" declared Lord Beric, \"but your innocence must be your armor.\"\n\nClegane's mouth twitched. \"My innocence against your breastplate, is that the way of it?\"\n\n\"Ned, help me remove my breastplate.\"\n\nArya got goosebumps when Lord Beric said her father's name, but this Ned was only a boy, a fair-haired squire no more than tenor twelve. He stepped up quickly to undo the clasps that fastened the battered steel about the Marcher lord. The quilting beneath was rotten with age and sweat, and fell away when the metal was pulled loose. Gendry sucked in his breath. \"Mother have mercy.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lord Beric's ribs were outlined starkly beneath his skin."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A puckered crater scarred his breast just above his left nipple, and when he turned to call for sword and shield, Arya saw a matching scar upon his back. The lance went through him. The Hound had seen it too. Is he scared? Arya wanted him to be scared before he died, as scared as Mycah must have been.\n\nNed fetched Lord Beric his swordbelt and along black surcoat. It was meant to be worn over armor, so it draped his body loosely, but across it crackled the forked purple lightning of his House. He unsheathed his sword and gave the belt back to his squire.\n\nThoros brought the Hound his swordbelt. \"Does a dog have honor?\" the priest asked. \"Lest you think to cut your way free of here, or seize some child fora hostage... Anguy, Dennet, Kyle, feather him at the first sign of treachery.\" Only when the three bowmen had notched their shafts did Thoros hand Clegane the belt.\n\nThe Hound ripped the sword free and threw away the scabbard. The Mad Huntsman gave him his oaken shield, all studded with iron and painted yellow, the three black dogs of Clegane emblazoned upon it. The boy Ned helped Lord Beric with his own shield, so hacked and battered that the purple lightning and the scatter of stars upon it had almost been obliterated.\n\nBut when the Hound made to step toward his foe, Thoros of Myr stopped him. \"First we pray.\" He turned toward the fire and lifted his arms. \"Lord of Light, look down upon us.\"\n\nAll around the cave, the brotherhood without banners lifted their own voices in response. \"Lord of Light, defend us.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lord of Light, protect us in the darkness.\"\n\n\"Lord of Light, shine your face upon us.\"\n\n\"Light your flame among us, R'hllor,\" said the red priest. \"Show us the truth or falseness of this man. Strike him down if he is guilty, and give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom.\"\n\n\"For the night is dark,\" the others chanted, Harwin and Anguy loud as all the rest, \"and full of terrors.\"\n\n\"This cave is dark too,\" said the Hound, \"but I'm the terror here. I hope your god's a sweet one, Dondarrion. You're going to meet him shortly.\"\n\nUnsmiling, Lord Beric laid the edge of his longsword against the palm of his left hand, and drew it slowly down. Blood ran dark from the gash he made, and washed over the steel.\n\nAnd then the sword took fire.\n\nArya heard Gendry whisper a prayer.\n\n\"Burn in seven hells,\" the Hound cursed. \"You, and Thoros too.\" He threw a glance at the red priest. \"When I'm done with him you'll be next, Myr.\"\n\n\"Every word you say proclaims your guilt, dog,\" answered Thoros, while Lem and Greenbeard and Jack-Be-Lucky shouted threats and curses. Lord Beric himself waited silent, calm as still water, his shield on his left arm and his sword burning in his right hand. Kill him, Arya thought, please, you have to kill him. Lit from below, his face was a death mask, his missing eye a red and angry wound. The sword was aflame from point to crossguard, but Dondarrion seemed not to feel the heat. He stood so still he might have been carved of stone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But when the Hound charged him, he moved fast enough.\n\nThe flaming sword leapt up to meet the cold one, long streamers of fire trailing in its wake like the ribbons the Hound had spoken of. Steel rang on steel. No sooner was his first slash blocked than Clegane made another, but this time Lord Beric's shield got in the way, and wood chips flew from the force of the blow. Hard and fast the cuts came, from low and high, from right and left, and each one Dondarrion blocked. The flames swirled about his sword and left red and yellow ghosts to mark its passage. Each move Lord Beric made fanned them and made them burn the brighter, until it seemed as though the lightning lord stood within a cage of fire. \"Is it wildfire?\" Arya asked Gendry.\n\n\"No. This is different. This is...\"\n\n\"... magic?\" she finished as the Hound edged back. Now it was Lord Beric attacking, filling the air with ropes of fire, driving the bigger man back on his heels. Clegane caught one blow high on his shield, and a painted dog lost ahead. He countercut, and Dondarrion interposed his own shield and launched a fiery backslash. The outlaw brotherhood shouted on their leader. \"He's yours!\" Arya heard, and'At him! At him! At him!\" The Hound parried a cut at his head, grimacing as the heat of the flames beat against his face. He grunted and cursed and reeled away.\n\nLord Beric gave him no respite. Hard on the big man's heels he followed, his arm never still. The swords clashed and sprang apart and clashed again, splinters flew from the lightning shield while swirling flames kissed the dogs once, and twice, and thrice. The Hound moved to his right, but Dondarrion blocked him with a quick sidestep and drove him back the other way... toward the sullen red blaze of the firepit. Clegane gave ground until he felt the heat at his back. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him what was behind him, and almost cost him his head when Lord Beric attacked anew."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Arya could seethe whites of Sandor Clegane's eyes as he bulled his way forward again."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Three steps up and two back, a move to the left that Lord Beric blocked, two more forward and one back, clang and clang, and the big oaken shields took blow after blow after blow. The Hound's lank dark hair was plastered to his brow in a sheen of sweat. Wine sweat, Arya thought, remembering that he'd been taken drunk. She thought she could seethe beginnings of fear wake in his eyes. He's going to lose, she told herself, exulting, as Lord Beric's flaming sword whirled and slashed. In one wild flurry, the lightning lord took back all the ground the Hound had gained, sending Clegane staggering to the very edge of the firepit once more. He is, he is, he's going to die. She stood on her toes fora better look.\n\n\"Bloody bastard!\" the Hound screamed as he felt the fire licking against the back of his thighs. He charged, swinging the heavy sword harder and harder, trying to smash the smaller man down with brute force, to break blade or shield or arm. But the flames of Dondarrion's parries snapped at his eyes, and when the Hound jerked away from them, his foot went out from under him and he staggered to one knee. At once Lord Beric closed, his downcut screaming through the air trailing pennons of fire. Panting from exertion, Clegane jerked his shield up over his head just in time, and the cave rang with the loud crack of splintering oak.\n\n\"His shield is afire,\" Gendry said in a hushed voice. Arya saw it in the same instant. The flames had spread across the chipped yellow paint, and the three black dogs were engulfed.\n\nSandor Clegane had fought his way back to his feet with a reckless counterattack. Not until Lord Beric retreated apace did the Hound seem to realize that the fire that roared so near his face was his own shield, burning. With a shout of revulsion, he hacked down savagely on the broken oak, completing its destruction. The shield shattered, one piece of it spinning away, still afire, while the other clung stubbornly to his forearm. His efforts to free himself only fanned the flames. His sleeve caught, and now his whole left arm was ablaze. \"Finish him!\" Greenbeard urged Lord Beric, and other voices took up the chant of'Guilty!\" Arya shouted with the rest. \"Guilty, guilty, kill him, guilty!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Smooth as summer silk, Lord Beric slid close to make an end of the man before him. The Hound gave a rasping scream, raised his sword in both hands and brought it crashing down with all his strength. Lord Beric blocked the cut easily...\n\n\"Noooooo,\" Arya shrieked.\n\n... but the burning sword snapped in two, and the Hound's cold steel plowed into Lord Beric's flesh where his shoulder joined his neck and clove him clean down to the breastbone. The blood came rushing out in a hot black gush.\n\nSandor Clegane jerked backward, still burning. He ripped the remnants of his shield off and flung them away with a curse, then rolled in the dirt to smother the fire running along his arm.\n\nLord Beric's knees folded slowly, as if for prayer. When his mouth opened only blood came out. The Hound's sword was still in him as he toppled face forward. The dirt drank his blood. Beneath the hollow hill there was no sound but the soft crackling of flames and the whimper the Hound made when he tried to rise. Arya could only think of Mycah and all the stupid prayers she'd prayed for the Hound to die. If there were gods, why didn't Lord Beric win? She knew the Hound was guilty.\n\n\"Please,\" Sandor Clegane rasped, cradling his arm. \"I'm burned. Help me. Someone. Help me.\" He was crying. \"Please.\"\n\nArya looked at him in astonishment. He's crying like a little baby, she thought.\n\n\"Melly, see to his burns,\" said Thoros. \"Lem, Jack, help me with Lord Beric. Ned, you'd best come too.\" The red priest wrenched the Hound's sword from the body of his fallen lord and thrust the point of it down in the blood-soaked earth. Lem slid his big hands under Dondarrion's arms, while Jack-Be-Lucky took his feet. They carried him around the firepit, into the darkness of one of the tunnels. Thoros and the boy Ned followed after."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Mad Huntsman spat. \"I say we take him back to Stoney Sept and put him in a crow cage.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Arya said. \"He murdered Mycah. He did.\"\n\n\"Such an angry squirrel,\" murmured Greenbeard.\n\nHarwin sighed. \"R'hllor has judged him innocent.\"\n\n\"Who's Rulore?\" She couldn't even say it.\n\n\"The Lord of Light. Thoros has taught us-\"\n\nShe didn't care what Thoros had taught them. She yanked Greenbeard's dagger from its sheath and spun away before he could catch her. Gendry made a grab for her as well, but she had always been too fast for Gendry.\n\nTom Sevenstrings and some woman were helping the Hound to his feet. The sight of his arm shocked her speechless. There was a strip of pink where the leather strap had clung, but above and below the flesh was cracked and red and bleeding from elbow to wrist. When his eyes met hers, his mouth twitched. \"You want me dead that bad? Then do it, wolf girl. Shove it in. It's cleaner than fire.\" Clegane tried to stand, but as he moved apiece of burned flesh sloughed right off his arm, and his knees went out from under him. Tom caught him by his good arm and held him up.\n\nHis arm, Arya thought, and his face. But he was the Hound. He deserved to burn in a fiery hell. The knife felt heavy in her hand. She gripped it tighter. \"You killed Mycah,\" she said once more, daring him to deny it. \"Tell them. You did. You did.\"\n\n\"I did.\" His whole face twisted. \"I rode him down and cut him in half, and laughed. I watched them beat your sister bloody too, watched them cut your father's head off.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lem grabbed her wrist and twisted, wrenching the dagger away."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She kicked at him, but he would not give it back. \"You go to hell, Hound,\" she screamed at Sandor Clegane in helpless empty-handed rage. \"You just go to hell!\"\n\n\"He has,\" said a voice scarce stronger than a whisper.\n\nWhen Arya turned, Lord Beric Dondarrion was standing behind her, his bloody hand clutching Thoros by the shoulder."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "CATELYN\n\nLet the kings of winter have their cold crypt under the earth, Catelyn thought. The Tullys drew their strength from the river, and it was to the river they returned when their lives had run their course.\n\nThey laid Lord Hoster in a slender wooden boat, clad in shining silver armor, plate-and-mail. His cloak was spread beneath him, rippling blue and red. His surcoat was divided blue-and-red as well. A trout, scaled in silver and bronze, crowned the crest of the greathelm they placed beside his head. On his chest they placed a painted wooden sword, his fingers curled about its hilt. Mail gauntlets hid his wasted hands, and made him look almost strong again. His massive oak-and-iron shield was set by his left side, his hunting horn to his right. The rest of the boat was filled with driftwood and kindling and scraps of parchment, and stones to make it heavy in the water. His banner flew from the prow, the leaping trout of Riverrun.\n\nSeven were chosen to push the funereal boat to the water, in honor of the seven faces of god. Robb was one, Lord Hoster's liege lord. With him were the Lords Bracken, Blackwood, Vance, and Mallister, Ser Marq Piper... and Lame Lothar Frey, who had comedown from the Twins with the answer they had awaited. Forty soldiers rode in his escort, commanded by Walder Rivers, the eldest of Lord Walder's bastard brood, astern, grey-haired man with a formidable reputation as a warrior. Their arrival, coming within hours of Lord Hoster's passing, had sent Edmure into a rage. \"Walder Frey should be flayed and quartered!\" he'd shouted. \"He sends a cripple and a bastard to treat with us, tell me there is no insult meant by that.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"I have no doubt that Lord Walder chose his envoys with care,\" she replied."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It was a peevish thing to do, a petty sort of revenge, but remember who we are dealing with. The Late Lord Frey, Father used to call him. The man is ill-tempered, envious, and above all prideful.\"\n\nBlessedly, her son had shown better sense than her brother. Robb had greeted the Freys with every courtesy, found barracks space for the escort, and quietly asked Ser Desmond Grell to stand aside so Lothar might have the honor of helping to send Lord Hoster on his last voyage. He has learned a rough wisdom beyond his years, my son. House Frey might have abandoned the King in the North, but the Lord of the Crossing remained the most powerful of Riverrun's bannermen, and Lothar was herein his stead.\n\nThe seven launched Lord Hoster from the water stair, wading down the steps as the portcullis was winched upward. Lothar Frey, a soft-bodied portly man, was breathing heavily as they shoved the boat out into the current. Jason Mallister and Tytos Blackwood, at the prow, stood chest deep in the river to guide it on its way.\n\nCatelyn watched from the battlements, waiting and watching as she had waited and watched so many times before. Beneath her, the swift wild Tumblestone plunged like a spear into the side of the broad Red Fork, its blue-white current churning the muddy red-brown flow of the greater river. A morning mist hungover the water, as thin as gossamer and the wisps of memory.\n\nBran and Rickon will be waiting for him, Catelyn thought sadly, as once I used to wait.\n\nThe slim boat drifted out from under the red stone arch of the Water Gate, picking up speed as it was caught in the headlong rush of the Tumblestone and pushed out into the tumult where the waters met. As the boat emerged from beneath the high sheltering walls of the castle, its square sail filled with wind, and Catelyn saw sunlight flashing on her father's helm. Lord Hoster Tully's rudder held true, and he sailed serenely down the center of the channel, into the rising sun."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Now,\" her uncle urged."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Beside him, her brother Edmure-Lord Edmure now in truth, and how long would that take to grow used to?-nocked an arrow to his bowstring. His squire held a brand to its point. Edmure waited until the flame caught, then lifted the great bow, drew the string to his ear, and let fly. With a deep thrum, the arrow sped upward. Catelyn followed its flight with her eyes and heart, until it plunged into the water with a soft hiss, well astern of Lord Hoster's boat.\n\nEdmure cursed softly. \"The wind,\" he said, pulling a second arrow. \"Again.\" The brand kissed the oil-soaked rag behind the arrowhead, the flames went licking up, Edmure lifted, pulled, and released. High and far the arrow flew. Too far. It vanished in the river a dozen yards beyond the boat, its fire winking out in an instant. A flush was creeping up Edmure's neck, red as his beard. \"Once more,\" he commanded, taking a third arrow from the quiver. He is as tight as his bowstring, Catelyn thought.\n\nSer Brynden must have seen the same thing. \"Let me, my lord,\" he offered.\n\n\"I can do it,\" Edmure insisted. He let them light the arrow, jerked the bow up, took a deep breath, drew back the arrow. Fora long moment he seemed to hesitate while the fire crept up the shaft, crackling. Finally he released. The arrow flashed up and up, and finally curved down again, falling, falling... and hissing past the billowing sail.\n\nA narrow miss, no more than a handspan, and yet amiss. \"The Others take it!\" her brother swore. The boat was almost out of range, drifting in and out among the river mists. Wordless, Edmure thrust the bow at his uncle."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Swiftly,\" Ser Brynden said."
},
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"value": "He nocked an arrow, held it steady for the brand, drew and released before Catelyn was quite sure that the fire had caught... but as the shot rose, she saw the flames trailing through the air, a pale orange pennon. The boat had vanished in the mists. Falling, the flaming arrow was swallowed up as well... but only fora heartbeat. Then, sudden as hope, they saw the red bloom flower. The sails took fire, and the fog glowed pink and orange. Fora moment Catelyn saw the outline of the boat clearly, wreathed in leaping flames.\n\nWatch for me, little cat, she could hear him whisper.\n\nCatelyn reached out blindly, groping for her brother's hand, but Edmure had moved away, to standalone on the highest point of the battlements. Her uncle Brynden took her hand instead, twining his strong fingers through hers. Together they watched the little fire grow smaller as the burning boat receded in the distance.\n\nAnd then it was gone... drifting downriver still, perhaps, or broken up and sinking. The weight of his armor would carry Lord Hoster down to rest in the soft mud of the riverbed, in the watery halls where the Tullys held eternal court, with schools offish their last attendants.\n\nNo sooner had the burning boat vanished from their sight than Edmure walked off. Catelyn would have liked to embrace him, if only fora moment; to sit for an hour or a night or the turn of a moon to speak of the dead and mourn. Yet she knew as well as he that this was not the time; he was Lord of Riverrun now, and his knights were falling in around him, murmuring condolences and promises of fealty, walling him off from something as small as a sister's grief. Edmure listened, hearing none of the words."
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"value": "\"It is no disgrace to miss your shot,\" her uncle told her quietly. \"Edmure should hear that. The day my own lord father went downriver, Hoster missed as well.\"\n\n\"With his first shaft.\" Catelyn had been too young to remember, but Lord Hoster had often told the tale. \"His second found the sail.\" She sighed. Edmure was not as strong as he seemed. Their father's death had been a mercy when it came at last, but even so her brother had taken it hard.\n\nLast night in his cups he had broken down and wept, full of regrets for things undone and words unsaid. He ought never to have ridden off to fight his battle on the fords, he told her tearfully; he should have stayed at their father's bedside. \"I should have been with him, as you were,\" he said. \"Did he speak of meat the end? Tell me true, Cat. Did he ask for me?\"\n\nLord Hoster's last word had been'Tansy,\" but Catelyn could not bring herself to tell him that. \"He whispered your name,\" she lied, and her brother had nodded gratefully and kissed her hand. If he had not tried to drown his grief and guilt, he might have been able to bend a bow, she thought to herself, sighing, but that was something else she dare not say.\n\nThe Blackfish escorted her down from the battlements to where Robb stood among his bannermen, his young queen at his side. When he saw her, her son took her silently in his arms.\n\n\"Lord Hoster looked as noble as a king, my lady,\" murmured Jeyne. \"Would that I had been given the chance to know him.\""
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"value": "\"And Ito know him better,\" added Robb.\n\n\"He would have wished that too,\" said Catelyn. \"There were too many leagues between Riverrun and Winterfell.\" And too many mountains and rivers and armies between Riverrun and the Eyrie, it would seem. Lysa had made no reply to her letter.\n\nAnd from King's Landing came only silence as well. By now she had hoped that Brienne and Ser Cleos would have reached the city with their captive. It might even be that Brienne was on her way back, and the girls with her. Ser Cleos swore he would make the Imp send a raven once the trade was made. He swore it! Ravens did not always win through. Some bowman could have brought the bird down and roasted him for supper. The letter that would have set her heart at ease might even now belying by the ashes of some campfire beside a pile of raven bones.\n\nOthers were waiting to offer Robb their consolations, so Catelyn stood aside patiently while Lord Jason Mallister, the Greatjon, and Ser Rolph Spicer spoke to him each in turn. But when Lothar Frey approached, she gave his sleeve a tug. Robb turned, and waited to hear what Lothar would say.\n\n\"Your Grace.\" A plump man in his middle thirties, Lothar Frey had close-set eyes, a pointed beard, and dark hair that fell to his shoulders in ringlets. A leg twisted at birth had earned him the name Lame Lothar. He had served as his father's steward for the past dozen years. \"We are loath to intrude upon your grief, but perhaps you might grant us audience tonight?\"\n\n\"It would be my pleasure,\" said Robb. \"It was never my wish to sow enmity between us.\""
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"value": "\"Nor mine to be the cause of it,\" said Queen Jeyne.\n\nLothar Frey smiled. \"I understand, as does my lord father. He instructed me to say that he was young once, and well remembers what it is like to lose one's heart to beauty.\"\n\nCatelyn doubted very much that Lord Walder had said any such thing, or that he had ever lost his heart to beauty. The Lord of the Crossing had outlived seven wives and was now wed to his eighth, but he spoke of them only as bedwarmers and broodmares. Still, the words were fairly spoken, and she could scarce object to the compliment. Nor did Robb. \"Your father is most gracious,\" he said. \"I shall look forward to our talk.\"\n\nLothar bowed, kissed the queen's hand, and withdrew. By then a dozen others had gathered fora word. Robb spoke with them each, giving a thanks here, a smile there, as needed. Only when the last of them was done did he turn back to Catelyn. \"There is something we must speak of. Will you walk with me?\"\n\n\"As you command, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"That wasn't a command, Mother.\"\n\n\"It will be my pleasure, then.\" Her son had treated her kindly enough since returning to Riverrun, yet he seldom sought her out. If he was more comfortable with his young queen, she could scarcely blame him. Jeyne makes him smile, and I have nothing to share with him but grief. He seemed to enjoy the company of his bride's brothers, as well; young Rollam his squire and Ser Raynald his standard-bearer. They are standing in the boots of those he's lost, Catelyn realized when she watched them together. Rollam has taken Bran's place, and Raynald is part Theon and part Jon Snow. Only with the Westerlings did she see Robb smile, or hear him laugh like the boy he was. To the others he was always the King in the North, head bowed beneath the weight of the crown even when his brows were bare."
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"value": "Robb kissed his wife gently, promised to see her in their chambers, and went off with his lady mother. His steps led them toward the godswood. \"Lothar seemed amiable, that's a hopeful sign. We need the Freys.\"\n\n\"That does not mean we shall have them.\"\n\nHe nodded, and there was glumness to his face and a slope to his shoulders that made her heart go out to him. The crown is crushing him, she thought. He wants so much to be a good king, to be brave and honorable and clever, but the weight is too much fora boy to bear. Robb was doing all he could, yet still the blows kept falling, one after the other, relentless. When they brought him word of the battle at Duskendale, where Lord Randyll Tarly had shattered Robett Glover and Ser Helman Tallhart, he might have been expected to rage. Instead he'd stared in dumb disbelief and said, \"Duskendale, on the narrow sea? Why would they go to Duskendale?\" He'd shook his head, bewildered. \"A third of my foot, lost for Duskendale?\"\n\n\"The ironmen have my castle and now the Lannisters hold my brother,\" Galbart Glover said, in a voice thick with despair. Robett Glover had survived the battle, but had been captured near the kingsroad not long after.\n\n\"Not for long,\" her son promised. \"I will offer them Martyn Lannister in exchange. Lord Tywin will have to accept, for his brother's sake.\" Martyn was Ser Kevan's son, a twin to the Willem that Lord Karstark had butchered. Those murders still haunted her son, Catelyn knew. He had tripled the guard around Martyn, but still feared for his safety."
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"value": "\"I should have traded the Kingslayer for Sansa when you first urged it,\" Robb said as they walked the gallery. \"If I'd offered towed her to the Knight of Flowers, the Tyrells might be ours instead of Joffrey's. I should have thought of that.\"\n\n\"Your mind was on your battles, and rightly so. Even a king cannot think of everything.\"\n\n\"Battles,\" muttered Robb as he led her out beneath the trees. \"I have won every battle, yet somehow I'm losing the war.\" He looked up, as if the answer might be written on the sky. \"The ironmen hold Winterfell, and Moat Cailin too. Father's dead, and Bran and Rickon, maybe Arya. And now your father too.\"\n\nShe could not let him despair. She knew the taste of that draught too well herself. \"My father has been dying fora longtime. You could not have changed that. You have made mistakes, Robb, but what king has not? Ned would have been proud of you.\"\n\n\"Mother, there is something you must know.\"\n\nCatelyn's heart skipped a beat. This is something he hates. Something he dreads to tell me. All she could think of was Brienne and her mission. \"Is it the Kingslayer?\"\n\n\"No. It's Sansa.\"\n\nShe's dead, Catelyn thought at once. Brienne failed, Jaime is dead, and Cersei has killed my sweet girl in retribution. Fora moment she could barely speak. \"Is... is she gone, Robb?\"\n\n\"Gone?\" He looked startled. \"Dead? Oh, Mother, no, not that, they haven't harmed her, not that way, only... a bird came last night, but I couldn't bring myself to tell you, not until your father was sent to his rest.\" Robb took her hand. \"They married her to Tyrion Lannister.\""
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"value": "Catelyn's fingers clutched at his. \"The Imp.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"He swore to trade her for his brother,\" she said numbly. \"Sansa and Arya both. We would have them back if we returned his precious Jaime, he swore it before the whole court. How could he marry her, after saying that insight of gods and men?\"\n\n\"He's the Kingslayer's brother. Oathbreaking runs in their blood.\" Robb's fingers brushed the pommel of his sword. \"If I could I'd take his ugly head off. Sansa would be a widow then, and free. There's no other way that I can see. They made her speak the vows before a septon and dona crimson cloak.\"\n\nCatelyn remembered the twisted little man she had seized at the crossroads inn and carried all the way to the Eyrie. \"I should have let Lysa push him out her Moon Door. My poor sweet Sansa... why would anyone do this to her?\"\n\n\"For Winterfell,\" Robb said at once. \"With Bran and Rickon dead, Sansa is my heir. If anything should happen tome...\"\n\nShe clutched tight at his hand. \"Nothing will happen to you. Nothing. I could not stand it. They took Ned, and your sweet brothers. Sansa is married, Arya is lost, my father's dead... if anything befell you, I would go mad, Robb. You are all I have left. You are all the north has left.\"\n\n\"I am not dead yet, Mother.\"\n\nSuddenly Catelyn was full of dread. \"Wars need not be fought until the last drop of blood.\" Even she could hear the desperation in her voice. \"You would not be the first king to bend the knee, nor even the first Stark.\""
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"value": "His mouth tightened. \"No. Never.\"\n\n\"There is no shame in it. Balon Greyjoy bent the knee to Robert when his rebellion failed. Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror rather than see his army face the fires.\"\n\n\"Did Aegon kill King Torrhen's father?\" He pulled his hand from hers. \"Never, I said.\"\n\nHe is playing the boy now, not the king. \"The Lannisters do not need the north. They will require homage and hostages, no more... and the Imp will keep Sansa no matter what we do, so they have their hostage. The ironmen will prove a more implacable enemy, I promise you. To have any hope of holding the north, the Greyjoys must leave no single sprig of House Stark alive to dispute their right. Theon's murdered Bran and Rickon, so now all they need do is kill you... and Jeyne, yes. Do you think Lord Balon can afford to let her live to bear you heirs?\"\n\nRobb's face was cold. \"Is that why you freed the Kingslayer? To make a peace with the Lannisters?\"\n\n\"I freed Jaime for Sansa's sake... and Arya's, if she still lives. You know that. But if I nurtured some hope of buying peace as well, was that so ill?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he said. \"The Lannisters killed my father.\"\n\n\"Do you think I have forgotten that?\"\n\n\"I don't know. Have you?\"\n\nCatelyn had never struck her children in anger, but she almost struck Robb then. It was an effort to remind herself how frightened and alone he must feel. \"You are King in the North, the choice is yours. I only ask that you think on what I've said. The singers make much of kings who die valiantly in battle, but your life is worth more than a song. Tome at least, who gave it to you.\" She lowered her head. \"Do I have your leave to go?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes.\" He turned away and drew his sword. What he meant to do with it, she could not say. There was no enemy there, no one to fight. Only her and him, amongst tall trees and fallen leaves. There are fights no sword can win, Catelyn wanted to tell him, but she feared the king was deaf to such words.\n\nHours later, she was sewing in her bedchamber when young Rollam Westerling came running with the summons to supper. Good, Catelyn thought, relieved. She had not been certain that her son would want her there, after their quarrel. \"A dutiful squire,\" she said to Rollam gravely. Bran would have been the same.\n\nIf Robb seemed cool at table and Edmure surly, Lame Lothar made up for them both. He was the model of courtesy, reminiscing warmly about Lord Hoster, offering Catelyn gentle condolences on the loss of Bran and Rickon, praising Edmure for the victory at Stone Mill, and thanking Robb for the'swift sure justice\" he had meted out to Rickard Karstark. Lothar's bastard brother Walder Rivers was another matter; a harsh sour man with old Lord Walder's suspicious face, he spoke but seldom and devoted most of his attention to the meat and mead that was set before him.\n\nWhen all the empty words were said, the queen and the other Westerlings excused themselves, the remains of the meal were cleared away, and Lothar Frey cleared his throat. \"Before we turn to the business that brings us here, there is another matter,\" he said solemnly. \"A grave matter, I fear. I had hoped it would not fall tome to bring you these tidings, but it seems I must. My lord father has had a letter from his grandsons.\""
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"value": "Catelyn had been so lost in grief for her own that she had almost forgotten the two Freys she had agreed to foster. No more, she thought. Mother have mercy, how many more blows can we bear? Somehow she knew the next words she heard would plunge yet another blade into her heart. \"The grandsons at Winterfell?\" she made herself ask. \"My wards?\"\n\n\"Walder and Walder, yes. But they are presently at the Dreadfort, my lady. I grieve to tell you this, but there has been a battle. Winterfell is burned.\"\n\n\"Burned?\" Robb's voice was incredulous.\n\n\"Your northern lords tried to retake it from the ironmen. When Theon Greyjoy saw that his prize was lost, he put the castle to the torch.\"\n\n\"We have heard naught of any battle,\" said Ser Brynden.\n\n\"My nephews are young, I grant you, but they were there. Big Walder wrote the letter, though his cousin signed as well. It was a bloody bit of business, by their account. Your castellan was slain. Ser Rodrik, was that his name?\"\n\n\"Ser Rodrik Cassel,\" said Catelyn numbly. That dear brave loyal old soul. She could almost see him, tugging on his fierce white whiskers. \"What of our other people?\"\n\n\"The ironmen put many of them to the sword, I fear.\"\n\nWordless with rage, Robb slammed a fist down on the table and turned his face away, so the Freys would not see his tears.\n\nBut his mother saw them. The world grows a little darker everyday. Catelyn's thoughts went to Ser Rodrik's little daughter Beth, to tireless Maester Luwin and cheerful Septon Chayle, Mikken at the forge, Farlen and Palla in the kennels, Old Nan and simple Hodor. Her heart was sick. \"Please, not all.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" said Lame Lothar. \"The women and children hid, my nephews Walder and Walder among them. With Winterfell in ruins, the survivors were carried back to the Dreadfort by this son of Lord Bolton's.\"\n\n\"Bolton's son?\" Robb's voice was strained.\n\nWalder Rivers spoke up. \"A bastard son, I believe.\"\n\n\"Not Ramsay Snow? Does Lord Roose have another bastard?\" Robb scowled. \"This Ramsay was a monster and a murderer, and he died a coward. Or so I was told.\"\n\n\"I cannot speak to that. There is much confusion in any war. Many false reports. All I can tell you is that my nephews claim it was this bastard son of Bolton's who saved the women of Winterfell, and the little ones. They are safe at the Dreadfort now, all those who remain.\"\n\n\"Theon,\" Robb said suddenly. \"What happened to Theon Greyjoy? Was he slain?\"\n\nLame Lothar spread his hands. \"That I cannot say, Your Grace. Walder and Walder made no mention of his fate. Perhaps Lord Bolton might know, if he has had word from this son of his.\"\n\nSer Brynden said, \"We will be certain to ask him.\"\n\n\"You are all distraught, I see. I am sorry to have brought you such fresh grief. Perhaps we should adjourn until the morrow. Our business can wait until you have composed yourselves...\"\n\n\"No,\" said Robb, \"I want the matter settled.\"\n\nHer brother Edmure nodded. \"Meas well. Do you have an answer to our offer, my lord?\"\n\n\"I do.\" Lothar smiled. \"My lord father bids me tell Your Grace that he will agree to this new marriage alliance between our houses and renew his fealty to the King in the North, upon the condition that the King's Grace apologize for the insult done to House Frey, in his royal person, face to face.\""
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"value": "An apology was a small enough price to pay, but Catelyn misliked this petty condition of Lord Walder's at once.\n\n\"I am pleased,\" Robb said cautiously. \"It was never my wish to cause this rift between us, Lothar. The Freys have fought valiantly for my cause. I would have them at my side once more.\"\n\n\"You are too kind, Your Grace. As you accept these terms, I am then instructed to offer Lord Tully the hand of my sister, the Lady Roslin, a maid of sixteen years. Roslin is my lord father's youngest daughter by Lady Bethany of House Rosby, his sixth wife. She has a gentle nature and a gift for music.\"\n\nEdmure shifted in his seat. \"Might not it be better if I first met-\"\n\n\"You'll meet when you're wed,\" said Walder Rivers curtly. \"Unless Lord Tully feels a need to count her teeth first?\"\n\nEdmure kept his temper. \"I will take your word so far as her teeth are concerned, but it would be pleasant if I might gaze upon her face before I espoused her.\"\n\n\"You must accept her now, my lord,\" said Walder Rivers. \"Else my father's offer is withdrawn.\"\n\nLame Lothar spread his hands. \"My brother has a soldier's bluntness, but what he says is true. It is my lord father's wish that this marriage take place at once.\"\n\n\"At once?\" Edmure sounded so unhappy that Catelyn had the unworthy thought that perhaps he had been entertaining notions of breaking the betrothal after the fighting was done.\n\n\"Has Lord Walder forgotten that we are fighting a war?\" Brynden Blackfish asked sharply."
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Scarcely,\" said Lothar. \"That is why he insists that the marriage take place now, ser. Men die in war, even men who are young and strong. What would become of our alliance should Lord Edmure fall before he took Roslin to bride? And there is my father's age to consider as well. He is past ninety and not like to seethe end of this struggle. It would put his noble heart at peace if he could see his dear Roslin safely wed before the gods take him, so he might die with the knowledge that the girl had a strong husband to cherish and protect her.\"\n\nWe all want Lord Walder to die happy. Catelyn was growing less and less comfortable with this arrangement. \"My brother has just lost his own father. He needs time to mourn.\"\n\n\"Roslin is a cheerful girl,\" said Lothar. \"She maybe the very thing Lord Edmure needs to help him through his grief.\"\n\n\"And my grandfather has come to mislike lengthy betrothals,\" the bastard Walder Rivers added. \"I cannot imagine why.\"\n\nRobb gave him a chilly look. \"I take your meaning, Rivers. Pray excuse us.\"\n\n\"As Your Grace commands.\" Lame Lothar rose, and his bastard brother helped him hobble from the room.\n\nEdmure was seething. \"They're as much assaying that my promise is worthless. Why should I let that old weasel choose my bride? Lord Walder has other daughters besides this Roslin. Granddaughters as well. I should be offered the same choice you were. I'm his liege lord, he should be overjoyed that I'm willing towed any of them.\"\n\n\"He is a proud man, and we've wounded him,\" said Catelyn."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Others take his pride! I will not be shamed in my own hall. My answer is no.\"\n\nRobb gave him a weary look. \"I will not command you. Not in this. But if you refuse, Lord Frey will take it for another slight, and any hope of putting this arights will begone.\"\n\n\"You cannot know that,\" Edmure insisted. \"Frey has wanted me for one of his daughters since the day I was born. He will not let a chance like this slip between those grasping fingers of his. When Lothar brings him our answer, he'll come wheedling back and accept a betrothal... and to a daughter of my choosing.\"\n\n\"Perhaps, in time,\" said Brynden Blackfish. \"But can we wait, while Lothar rides back and forthwith offers and counters?\"\n\nRobb's hands curled into fists. \"I must get back to the north. My brothers dead, Winterfell burned, my smallfolk put to the sword... the gods only know what this bastard of Bolton's is about, or whether Theon is still alive and on the loose. I can't sit here waiting fora wedding that might or might not happen.\"\n\n\"It must happen,\" said Catelyn, though not gladly. \"I have no more wish to suffer Walder Frey's insults and complaints than you do, Brother, but I see little choice here. Without this wedding, Robb's cause is lost. Edmure, we must accept.\"\n\n\"We must accept?\" he echoed peevishly. \"I don't see you offering to become the ninth Lady Frey, Cat.\"\n\n\"The eighth Lady Frey is still alive and well, so far as I know,\" she replied. Thankfully. Otherwise it might well have come to that, knowing Lord Walder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Blackfish said, \"I am the last man in the Seven Kingdoms to tell anyone who they must wed, Nephew. Nonetheless, you did say something of making amends for your Battle of the Fords.\"\n\n\"I had in mind a different sort of amends. Single combat with the Kingslayer. Seven years of penace as a begging brother. Swimming the sunset sea with my legs tied.\" When he saw that no one was smiling, Edmure threw up his hands. \"The Others take you all! Very well, I'll wed the wench. As amends.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "DAVOS\n\nLord Alester looked up sharply. \"Voices,\" he said. \"Do you hear, Davos? Someone is coming for us.\"\n\n\"Lamprey,\" said Davos. \"It's time for our supper, or near enough.\" Last night Lamprey had brought them half a beef-and-bacon pie, and a flagon of mead as well. Just the thought of it made his belly start to rumble.\n\n\"No, there's more than one.\"\n\nHe's right. Davos heard two voices at least, and footsteps, growing louder. He got to his feet and moved to the bars.\n\nLord Alester brushed the straw from his clothes. \"The king has sent for me. Or the queen, yes, Selyse would never let me rot here, her own blood.\"\n\nOutside the cell, Lamprey appeared with a ring of keys in hand. Ser Axell Florent and four guardsmen followed close behind him. They waited beneath the torch while Lamprey searched for the correct key.\n\n\"Axell,\" Lord Alester said. \"Gods be good. Is it the king who sends for me, or the queen?\"\n\n\"No one has sent for you, traitor,\" Ser Axell said.\n\nLord Alester recoiled as if he'd been slapped. \"No, I swear to you, I committed no treason. Why won't you listen? If His Grace would only let me explain-\"\n\nLamprey thrust a great iron key into the lock, turned it, and pulled open the cell. The rusted hinges screamed in protest. \"You,\" he said to Davos. \"Come.\"\n\n\"Where?\" Davos looked to Ser Axell. \"Tell me true, ser, do you mean to burn me?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are sent for. Can you walk?\"\n\n\"I can walk.\" Davos stepped from the cell. Lord Alester gave a cry of dismay as Lamprey slammed the door shut once more.\n\n\"Take the torch,\" Ser Axell commanded the gaoler. \"Leave the traitor to the darkness.\"\n\n\"No,\" his brother said. \"Axell, please, don't take the light... gods have mercy...\"\n\n\"Gods? There is only R'hllor, and the Other.\" Ser Axell gestured sharply, and one of his guardsmen pulled the torch from its sconce and led the way to the stair.\n\n\"Are you taking me to Melisandre?\" Davos asked.\n\n\"She will be there,\" Ser Axell said. \"She is never far from the king. But it is His Grace himself who asked for you.\"\n\nDavos lifted his hand to his chest, where once his luck had hung in a leather bag on a thong. Gone now, he remembered, and the ends of four fingers as well. But his hands were still long enough to wrap about a woman's throat, he thought, especially a slender throat like hers.\n\nUp they went, climbing the turnpike stair in single file. The walls were rough dark stone, cool to the touch. The light of the torches went before them, and their shadows marched beside them on the walls. At the third turn they passed an iron gate that opened on blackness, and another at the fifth turn. Davos guessed that they were near the surface by then, perhaps even above it. The next door they came to was made of wood, but still they climbed. Now the walls were broken by arrow slits, but no shafts of sunlight pried their way through the thickness of the stone. It was night outside."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His legs were aching by the time Ser Axell thrust open a heavy door and gestured him through. Beyond, a high stone bridge arched over emptiness to the massive central tower called the Stone Drum. A sea wind blew restlessly through the arches that supported the roof, and Davos could smell the saltwater as they crossed. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the clean cold air. Wind and water, give me strength, he prayed. A huge nightfire burned in the yard below, to keep the terrors of the dark at bay, and the queen's men were gathered around it, singing praises to their new red god.\n\nThey were in the center of the bridge when Ser Axell stopped suddenly. He made a brusque gesture with his hand, and his men moved out of earshot. \"Were it my choice, I would burn you with my brother Alester,\" he told Davos. \"You are both traitors.\"\n\n\"Say what you will. I would never betray King Stannis.\"\n\n\"You would. You will. I see it in your face. And I have seen it in the flames as well. R'hllor has blessed me with that gift. Like Lady Melisandre, he shows me the future in the fire. Stannis Baratheon will sit the Iron Throne. I have seen it. And I know what must be done. His Grace must make me his Hand, in place of my traitor brother. And you will tell him so.\"\n\nWill I? Davos said nothing.\n\n\"The queen has urged my appointment,\" Ser Axell went on. \"Even your old friend from Lys, the pirate Saan, he says the same. We have made a plan together, him and me. Yet His Grace does not act. The defeat gnaws inside him, a black worm in his soul. It is up to us who love him to show him what to do. If you areas devoted to his cause as you claim, smuggler, you will join your voice to ours. Tell him that I am the only Hand he needs. Tell him, and when we sail I shall see that you have anew ship.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A ship. Davos studied the other man's face. Ser Axell had big Florent ears, much like the queen's. Coarse hair grew from them, as from his nostrils; more sprouted in tufts and patches beneath his double chin. His nose was broad, his brow beetled, his eyes close-set and hostile. He would sooner give me a pyre than a ship, he said as much, but if I do him this favor...\n\n\"If you think to betray me,\" Ser Axell said, \"pray remember that I have been castellan of Dragonstone a good longtime. The garrison is mine. Perhaps I cannot burn you without the king's consent, but who is to say you might not suffer a fall.\" He laid a meaty hand on the back of Davos's neck and shoved him bodily against the waist-high side of the bridge, then shoved a little harder to force his face out over the yard. \"Do you hear me?\"\n\n\"I hear,\" said Davos. And you dare name me traitor?\n\nSer Axell released him. \"Good.\" He smiled. \"His Grace awaits. Best we do not keep him.\"\n\nAt the very top of Stone Drum, within the great round room called the Chamber of the Painted Table, they found Stannis Baratheon standing behind the artifact that gave the hall its name, a massive slab of wood carved and painted in the shape of Westeros as it had been in the time of Aegon the Conqueror. An iron brazier stood beside the king, its coals glowing a ruddy orange. Four tall pointed windows looked out to north, south, east, and west. Beyond was the night and the starry sky. Davos could hear the wind moving, and fainter, the sounds of the sea.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Ser Axell said, \"as it please you, I have brought the onion knight.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"So I see.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Stannis wore a grey wool tunic, a dark red mantle, and a plain black leather belt from which his sword and dagger hung. A red-gold crown with flame-shaped points encircled his brows. The look of him was a shock. He seemed ten years older than the man that Davos had left at Storm's End when he set sail for the Blackwater and the battle that would be their undoing. The king's close-cropped beard was spiderwebbed with grey hairs, and he had dropped two stone or more of weight. He had never been a fleshy man, but now the bones moved beneath his skin like spears, fighting to cut free. Even his crown seemed too large for his head. His eyes were blue pits lost in deep hollows, and the shape of a skull could be seen beneath his face.\n\nYet when he saw Davos, a faint smile brushed his lips. \"So the sea has returned me my knight of the fish and onions.\"\n\n\"It did, Your Grace.\" Does he know that he had me in his dungeon? Davos went to one knee.\n\n\"Rise, Ser Davos,\" Stannis commanded. \"I have missed you, ser. I have need of good counsel, and you never gave me less. So tell me true-what is the penalty for treason?\"\n\nThe word hung in the air. A frightful word, thought Davos. Was he being asked to condemn his cellmate? Or himself, perchance? Kings know the penalty for treason better than any man. \"Treason?\" he finally managed, weakly.\n\n\"What else would you call it, to deny your king and seek to steal his rightful throne. I ask you again-what is the penalty for treason under the law?\"\n\nDavos had no choice but to answer. \"Death,\" he said. \"The penalty is death, Your Grace.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It has always been so. I am not... I am not a cruel man, Ser Davos. You know me. Have known me long. This is not my decree. It has always been so, since Aegon's day and before. Daemon Blackfyre, the brothers Toyne, the Vulture King, Grand Maester Hareth... traitors have always paid with their lives... even Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was daughter to one king and mother to two more, yet she died a traitor's death for trying to usurp her brother's crown. It is law. Law, Davos. Not cruelty.\"\n\n\"Yes, Your Grace.\" He does not speak of me. Davos felt a moment's pity for his cellmate down in the dark. He knew he should keep silent, but he was tired and sick of heart, and he heard himself say, \"Sire, Lord Florent meant no treason.\"\n\n\"Do smugglers have another name for it? I made him Hand, and he would have sold my rights fora bowl of pease porridge. He would even have given them Shireen. Mine only child, he would have wed to a bastard born of incest.\" The king's voice was thick with anger. \"My brother had a gift for inspiring loyalty. Even in his foes. At Summerhall he won three battles in a single day, and brought Lords Grandison and Cafferen back to Storm's End as prisoners. He hung their banners in the hall as trophies. Cafferen's white fawns were spotted with blood and Grandison's sleeping lion was torn near in two. Yet they would sit beneath those banners of a night, drinking and feasting with Robert. He even took them hunting. \"These men meant to deliver you to Aerys to be burned,\" I told him after I saw them throwing axes in the yard. \"You should not be putting axes in their hands.\" Robert only laughed. I would have thrown Grandison and Cafferen into a dungeon, but he turned them into friends. Lord Cafferen died at Ashford Castle, cut down by Randyll Tarly whilst fighting for Robert. Lord Grandison was wounded on the Trident and died of it a year after. My brother made them love him, but it would seem that I inspire only betrayal. Even in mine own blood and kin. Brother, grandfather, cousins, good uncle...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your Grace,\" said Ser Axell, \"I beg you, give me the chance to prove to you that not all Florents are so feeble.\"\n\n\"Ser Axell would have me resume the war,\" King Stannis told Davos. \"The Lannisters think I am done and beaten, and my sworn lords have forsaken me, near everyone. Even Lord Estermont, my own mother's father, has bent his knee to Joffrey. The few loyal men who remain tome are losing heart. They waste their days drinking and gambling, and lick their wounds like beaten curs.\"\n\n\"Battle will set their hearts ablaze once more, Your Grace,\" Ser Axell said. \"Defeat is a disease, and victory is the cure.\"\n\n\"Victory.\" The king's mouth twisted. \"There are victories and victories, ser. But tell your plan to Ser Davos. I would hear his views on what you propose.\"\n\nSer Axell turned to Davos, with a look on his face much like the look that proud Lord Belgrave must have worn, the day King Baelor the Blessed had commanded him to wash the beggar's ulcerous feet. Nonetheless, he obeyed.\n\nThe plan Ser Axell had devised with Salladhor Saan was simple. A few hours'sail from Dragonstone lay Claw Isle, ancient sea-girt seat of House Celtigar. Lord Ardrian Celtigar had fought beneath the fiery heart on the Blackwater, but once taken, he had wasted no time in going over to Joffrey. He remained in King's Landing even now. \"Too frightened of His Grace's wrath to come near Dragonstone, no doubt,\" Ser Axell declared. \"And wisely so. The man has betrayed his rightful king.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Axell proposed to use Salladhor Saan's fleet and the men who had escaped the Blackwater-Stannis still had some fifteen hundred on Dragonstone, more than half of them Florents-to exact retribution for Lord Celtigar's defection. Claw Isle was but lightly garrisoned, its castle reputedly stuffed with Myrish carpets, Volantene glass, gold and silver plate, jeweled cups, magnificent hawks, an axe of Valyrian steel, a horn that could summon monsters from the deep, chests of rubies, and more wines than a man could drink in a hundred years. Though Celtigar had shown the world a niggardly face, he had never stinted on his own comforts. \"Put his castle to the torch and his people to the sword, I say,\" Ser Axell concluded. \"Leave Claw Isle a desolation of ash and bone, fit only for carrion crows, so the realm might seethe fate of those who bed with Lannisters.\"\n\nStannis listened to Ser Axell's recitation in silence, grinding his jaw slowly from side to side. When it was done, he said, \"It could be done, I believe. The risk is small. Joffrey has no strength at sea until Lord Redwyne sets sail from the Arbor. The plunder might serve to keep that Lysene pirate Salladhor Saan loyal fora time. By itself Claw Isle is worthless, but its fall would serve notice to Lord Tywin that my cause is not yet done.\" The king turned back to Davos. \"Speak truly, ser. What do you make of Ser Axell's proposal?\"\n\nSpeak truly, ser. Davos remembered the dark cell he had shared with Lord Alester, remembered Lamprey and Porridge. He thought of the promises that Ser Axell had made on the bridge above the yard. A ship or a shove, what shall it be? But this was Stannis asking. \"Your Grace,\" he said slowly, \"I make it folly... aye, and cowardice.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Cowardice?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Axell all but shouted. \"No man calls me craven before my king!\"\n\n\"Silence,\" Stannis commanded. \"Ser Davos, speak on, I would hear your reasons.\"\n\nDavos turned to face Ser Axell. \"You say we ought show the realm we are not done. Strike a blow. Make war, aye... but on what enemy? You will find no Lannisters on Claw Isle.\"\n\n\"We will find traitors,\" said Ser Axell, \"though it maybe I could find some closer to home. Even in this very room.\"\n\nDavos ignored the jibe. \"I don't doubt Lord Celtigar bent the knee to the boy Joffrey. He is an old done man, who wants no more than to end his days in his castle, drinking his fine wine out of his jeweled cups.\" He turned back to Stannis. \"Yet he came when you called, sire. Came, with his ships and swords. He stood by you at Storm's End when Lord Renly came down onus, and his ships sailed up the Blackwater. His men fought for you, killed for you, burned for you. Claw Isle is weakly held, yes. Held by women and children and old men. And why is that? Because their husbands and sons and fathers died on the Blackwater, that's why. Died at their oars, or with swords in their hands, fighting beneath our banners. Yet Ser Axell proposes we swoop down on the homes they left behind, to rape their windows and put their children to the sword. These smallfolk are no traitors...\"\n\n\"They are,\" insisted Ser Axell. \"Not all of Celtigar's men were slain on the Blackwater. Hundreds were taken with their lord, and bent the knee when he did.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"When he did,\" Davos repeated. \"They were his men. His sworn men. What choice were they given?\"\n\n\"Every man has choices. They might have refused to kneel. Some did, and died for it. Yet they died true men, and loyal.\"\n\n\"Some men are stronger than others.\" It was a feeble answer, and Davos knew it. Stannis Baratheon was a man of iron will who neither understood nor forgave weakness in others. I am losing, he thought, despairing.\n\n\"It is every man's duty to remain loyal to his rightful king, even if the lord he serves proves false,\" Stannis declared in atone that brooked no argument.\n\nA desperate folly took hold of Davos, a recklessness akin to madness. \"As you remained loyal to King Aerys when your brother raised his banners?\" he blurted.\n\nShocked silence followed, until Ser Axell cried, \"Treason!\" and snatched his dagger from its sheath. \"Your Grace, he speaks his infamy to your face!\"\n\nDavos could hear Stannis grinding his teeth. A vein bulged, blue and swollen, in the king's brow. Their eyes met. \"Put up your knife, Ser Axell. And leave us.\"\n\n\"As it please Your Grace-\"\n\n\"It would please me for you to leave,\" said Stannis. \"Take yourself from my presence, and send me Melisandre.\"\n\n\"As you command.\" Ser Axell slid the knife away, bowed, and hurried toward the door. His boots rang against the floor, angry.\n\n\"You have always presumed on my forbearance,\" Stannis warned Davos when they were alone. \"I can shorten your tongue as easy as I did your fingers, smuggler.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 38"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"When he did,\" Davos repeated. \"They were his men. His sworn men. What choice were they given?\"\n\n\"Every man has choices. They might have refused to kneel. Some did, and died for it. Yet they died true men, and loyal.\"\n\n\"Some men are stronger than others.\" It was a feeble answer, and Davos knew it. Stannis Baratheon was a man of iron will who neither understood nor forgave weakness in others. I am losing, he thought, despairing.\n\n\"It is every man's duty to remain loyal to his rightful king, even if the lord he serves proves false,\" Stannis declared in atone that brooked no argument.\n\nA desperate folly took hold of Davos, a recklessness akin to madness. \"As you remained loyal to King Aerys when your brother raised his banners?\" he blurted.\n\nShocked silence followed, until Ser Axell cried, \"Treason!\" and snatched his dagger from its sheath. \"Your Grace, he speaks his infamy to your face!\"\n\nDavos could hear Stannis grinding his teeth. A vein bulged, blue and swollen, in the king's brow. Their eyes met. \"Put up your knife, Ser Axell. And leave us.\"\n\n\"As it please Your Grace-\"\n\n\"It would please me for you to leave,\" said Stannis. \"Take yourself from my presence, and send me Melisandre.\"\n\n\"As you command.\" Ser Axell slid the knife away, bowed, and hurried toward the door. His boots rang against the floor, angry.\n\n\"You have always presumed on my forbearance,\" Stannis warned Davos when they were alone. \"I can shorten your tongue as easy as I did your fingers, smuggler.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am your man, Your Grace. So it is your tongue, to do with as you please.\"\n\n\"It is,\" he said, calmer. \"And I would have it speak the truth. Though the truth is a bitter draught at times. Aerys? If you only knew... that was a hard choosing. My blood or my liege. My brother or my king.\" He grimaced. \"Have you ever seen the Iron Throne? The barbs along the back, the ribbons of twisted steel, the jagged ends of swords and knives all tangled up and melted? It is not a comfortable seat, ser. Aerys cut himself so often men took to calling him King Scab, and Maegor the Cruel was murdered in that chair. By that chair, to hear some tell it. It is not a seat where a man can rest at ease. Ofttimes I wonder why my brothers wanted it so desperately.\"\n\n\"Why would you want it, then?\" Davos asked him.\n\n\"It is not a question of wanting. The throne is mine, as Robert's heir. That is law. After me, it must pass to my daughter, unless Selyse should finally give me a son.\" He ran three fingers lightly down the table, over the layers of smooth hard varnish, dark with age. \"I am king. Wants do not enter into it. I have a duty to my daughter. To the realm. Even to Robert. He loved me but little, I know, yet he was my brother. The Lannister woman gave him horns and made a motley fool of him. She may have murdered him as well, as she murdered Jon Arryn and Ned Stark. For such crimes there must be justice. Starting with Cersei and her abominations. But only starting. I mean to scour that court clean. As Robert should have done, after the Trident. Ser Barristan once told me that the rot in King Aerys's reign began with Varys. The eunuch should never have been pardoned. No more than the Kingslayer. At the least, Robert should have stripped the white cloak from Jaime and sent him to the Wall, as Lord Stark urged. He listened to Jon Arryn instead. I was still at Storm's End, under siege and unconsulted.\" He turned abruptly, to give Davos a hard shrewd look. \"The truth, now. Why did you wish to murder Lady Melisandre?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So he does know. Davos could not lie to him. \"Four of my sons burned on the Blackwater. She gave them to the flames.\"\n\n\"You wrong her. Those fires were no work of hers. Curse the Imp, curse the pyromancers, curse that fool of Florent who sailed my fleet into the jaws of a trap. Or curse me for my stubborn pride, for sending her away when I needed her most. But not Melisandre. She remains my faithful servant.\"\n\n\"Maester Cressen was your faithful servant. She slew him, as she killed Ser Cortnay Penrose and your brother Renly.\"\n\n\"Now you sound a fool,\" the king complained. \"She saw Renly's end in the flames, yes, but she had no more part in it than I did. The priestess was with me. Your Devan would tell you so. Ask him, if you doubt me. She would have spared Renly if she could. It was Melisandre who urged me to meet with him, and give him one last chance to amend his treason. And it was Melisandre who told me to send for you when Ser Axell wished to give you to R'hllor.\" He smiled thinly. \"Does that surprise you?\"\n\n\"Yes. She knows I am no friend to her or her red god.\"\n\n\"But you area friend tome. She knows that as well.\" He beckoned Davos closer. \"The boy is sick. Maester Pylos has been leeching him.\"\n\n\"The boy?\" His thoughts went to his Devan, the king's squire. \"My son, sire?\"\n\n\"Devan? A good boy. He has much of you in him. It is Robert's bastard who is sick, the boy we took at Storm's End.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Edric Storm."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I spoke with him in Aegon's Garden.\"\n\n\"As she wished. As she saw.\" Stannis sighed. \"Did the boy charm you?\" He has that gift. He got it from his father, with the blood. He knows he is a king's son, but chooses to forget that he is bastard-born. And he worships Robert, as Renly did when he was young. My royal brother played the fond father on his visits to Storm's End, and there were gifts... swords and ponies and fur-trimmed cloaks. The eunuch's work, everyone. The boy would write the Red Keep full of thanks, and Robert would laugh and ask Varys what he'd sent this year. Renly was no better. He left the boy's upbringing to castellans and maesters, and everyone fell victim to his charm. Penrose chose to die rather than give him up.\"The king ground his teeth together.\" It still angers me. How could he think I would hurt the boy? I chose Robert, did I not? When that hard day came. I chose blood over honor.\"\n\nHe does not use the boy's name. That made Davos very uneasy. \"I hope young Edric will recover soon.\"\n\nStannis waved a hand, dismissing his concern. \"It is a chill, no more. He coughs, he shivers, he has a fever. Maester Pylos will soon set him right. By himself the boy is nought, you understand, but in his veins flows my brother's blood. There is power in a king's blood, she says.\"\n\nDavos did not have to ask who she was.\n\nStannis touched the Painted Table. \"Look at it, onion knight. My realm, by rights. My Westeros.\" He swept a hand across it. \"This talk of Seven Kingdoms is a folly. Aegon saw that three hundred years ago when he stood where we are standing. They painted this table at his command. Rivers and bays they painted, hills and mountains, castles and cities and market towns, lakes and swamps and forests... but no borders. It is all one. One realm, for one king to rule alone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"One king,\" agreed Davos. \"One king means peace.\"\n\n\"I shall bring justice to Westeros. A thing Ser Axell understands as little as he does war. Claw Isle would gain me naught... and it was evil, just as you said. Celtigar must pay the traitor's price himself, in his own person. And when I come into my kingdom, he shall. Every man shall reap what he has sown, from the highest lord to the lowest gutter rat. And some will lose more than the tips off their fingers, I promise you. They have made my kingdom bleed, and I do not forget that.\" King Stannis turned from the table. \"On your knees, Onion Knight.\"\n\n\"Your Grace?\"\n\n\"For your onions and fish, I made you a knight once. For this, I am of a mind to raise you to lord.\"\n\nThis? Davos was lost. \"I am content to be your knight, Your Grace. I would not know how to begin being lordly.\"\n\n\"Good. To be lordly is to be false. I have learned that lesson hard. Now, kneel. Your king commands.\"\n\nDavos knelt, and Stannis drew his longsword. Lightbringer, Melisandre had named it; the red sword of heroes, drawn from the fires where the seven gods were consumed. The room seemed to grow brighter as the blade slid from its scabbard. The steel had aglow to it; now orange, now yellow, now red. The air shimmered around it, and no jewel had ever sparkled so brilliantly. But when Stannis touched it to Davos's shoulder, it felt no different than any other longsword. \"Ser Davos of House Seaworth,\" the king said, \"are you my true and honest liege man, now and forever?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"And do you swear to serve me loyally all your days, to give me honest counsel and swift obedience, to defend my rights and my realm against all foes in battles great and small, to protect my people and punish my enemies?\"\n\n\"I do, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Then rise again, Davos Seaworth, and rise as Lord of the Rainwood, Admiral of the Narrow Sea, and Hand of the King.\"\n\nFora moment Davos was too stunned to move. I woke this morning in his dungeon. \"Your Grace, you cannot... I am no fit man to be a King's Hand.\"\n\n\"There is no man fitter.\" Stannis sheathed Lightbringer, gave Davos his hand, and pulled him to his feet.\n\n\"I am lowborn,\" Davos reminded him. \"An upjumped smuggler. Your lords will never obey me.\"\n\n\"Then we will make new lords.\"\n\n\"But... I cannot read... nor write...\"\n\n\"Maester Pylos can read for you. As to writing, my last Hand wrote the head off his shoulders. All I ask of you are the things you've always given me. Honesty. Loyalty. Service.\"\n\n\"Surely there is someone better... some great lord...\"\n\nStannis snorted. \"Bar Emmon, that boy? My faithless grandfather? Celtigar has abandoned me, the new Velaryon is six years old, and the new Sunglass sailed for Volantis after I burned his brother.\" He made an angry gesture. \"A few good men remain, it's true. Ser Gilbert Farring holds Storm's End for me still, with two hundred loyal men. Lord Morrigen, the Bastard of Nightsong, young Chyttering, my cousin Andrew... but I trust none of them as I trust you, my lord of Rainwood. You will be my Hand. It is you I want beside me for the battle.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Another battle will be the end of all of us, thought Davos. Lord Alester saw that much true enough. \"Your Grace asked for honest counsel. In honesty then... we lack the strength for another battle against the Lannisters.\"\n\n\"It is the great battle His Grace is speaking of,\" said a woman's voice, rich with the accents of the east. Melisandre stood at the door in her red silks and shimmering satins, holding a covered silver dish in her hands. \"These little wars are no more than a scuffle of children before what is to come. The one whose name may not bespoken is marshaling his power, Davos Seaworth, a power fell and evil and strong beyond measure. Soon comes the cold, and the night that never ends.\" She placed the silver dish on the Painted Table. \"Unless true men find the courage to fight it. Men whose hearts are fire.\"\n\nStannis stared at the silver dish. \"She has shown it tome, Lord Davos. In the flames.\"\n\n\"You saw it, sire?\" It was not like Stannis Baratheon to lie about such a thing.\n\n\"With mine own eyes. After the battle, when I was lost to despair, the Lady Melisandre bid me gaze into the hearthfire. The chimney was drawing strongly, and bits of ash were rising from the fire. I stared at them, feeling half a fool, but she bid me look deeper, and... the ashes were white, rising in the updraft, yet all at once it seemed as if they were falling. Snow, I thought. Then the sparks in the air seemed to circle, to become a ring of torches, and I was looking through the fire down on some high hill in a forest. The cinders had become men in black behind the torches, and there were shapes moving through the snow. For all the heat of the fire, I felt a cold so terrible I shivered, and when I did the sight was gone, the fire but afire once again. But what I saw was real, I'd stake my kingdom on it.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And have,\" said Melisandre.\n\nThe conviction in the king's voice frightened Davos to the core. \"A hill in a forest... shapes in the snow... I don't...\"\n\n\"It means that the battle is begun,\" said Melisandre. \"The sand is running through the glass more quickly now, and man's hour on earth is almost done. We must act boldly, or all hope is lost. Westeros must unite beneath her one true king, the prince that was promised, Lord of Dragonstone and chosen of R'hllor.\"\n\n\"R'hllor chooses queerly, then.\" The king grimaced, as if he'd tasted something foul. \"Why me, and not my brothers? Renly and his peach. In my dreams I seethe juice running from his mouth, the blood from his throat. If he had done his duty by his brother, we would have smashed Lord Tywin. A victory even Robert could be proud of. Robert...\" His teeth ground side to side. \"He is in my dreams as well. Laughing. Drinking. Boasting. Those were the things he was best at. Those, and fighting. I never bested him at anything. The Lord of Light should have made Robert his champion. Why me?\"\n\n\"Because you area righteous man,\" said Melisandre.\n\n\"A righteous man.\" Stannis touched the covered silver platter with a finger. \"With leeches.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Melisandre, \"but I must tell you once more, this is not the way.\"\n\n\"You swore it would work.\" The king looked angry.\n\n\"It will... and it will not.\"\n\n\"Which?\"\n\n\"Both.\"\n\n\"Speak sense tome, woman.\"\n\n\"When the fires speak more plainly, so shall I. There is truth in the flames, but it is not always easy to see.\" The great ruby at her throat drank fire from the glow of the brazier. \"Give me the boy, Your Grace. It is the surer way. The better way. Give me the boy and I shall wake the stone dragon.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have told you, no.\"\n\n\"He is only one baseborn boy, against all the boys of Westeros, and all the girls as well. Against all the children that might ever be born, in all the kingdoms of the world.\"\n\n\"The boy is innocent.\"\n\n\"The boy defiled your marriage bed, else you would surely have sons of your own. He shamed you.\"\n\n\"Robert did that. Not the boy. My daughter has grown fond of him. And he is mine own blood.\"\n\n\"Your brother's blood,\" Melisandre said. \"A king's blood. Only a king's blood can wake the stone dragon.\"\n\nStannis ground his teeth. \"I'll hear no more of this. The dragons are done. The Targaryens tried to bring them back half a dozen times. And made fools of themselves, or corpses. Patchface is the only fool we need on this godsforsaken rock. You have the leeches. Do your work.\"\n\nMelisandre bowed her head stiffly, and said, \"As my king commands.\" Reaching up her left sleeve with her right hand, she flung a handful of powder into the brazier. The coals roared. As pale flames writhed atop them, the red woman retrieved the silver dish and brought it to the king. Davos watched her lift the lid. Beneath were three large black leeches, fat with blood.\n\nThe boy's blood, Davos knew. A king's blood.\n\nStannis stretched forth a hand, and his fingers closed around one of the leeches.\n\n\"Say the name,\" Melisandre commanded.\n\nThe leech was twisting in the king's grip, trying to attach itself to one of his fingers. \"The usurper,\" he said. \"Joffrey Baratheon.\" When he tossed the leech into the fire, it curled up like an autumn leaf amidst the coals, and burned."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Stannis grasped the second."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The usurper,\" he declared, louder this time. \"Balon Greyjoy.\" He flipped it lightly onto the brazier, and its flesh split and cracked. The blood burst from it, hissing and smoking.\n\nThe last was in the king's hand. This one he studied a moment as it writhed between his fingers. \"The usurper,\" he said at last. \"Robb Stark.\" And he threw it on the flames."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nHarrenhal's bathhouse was a dim, steamy, low-ceilinged room filled with great stone tubs. When they led Jaime in, they found Brienne seated in one of them, scrubbing her arm almost angrily.\n\n\"Not so hard, wench,\" he called. \"You'll scrub the skin off.\" She dropped her brush and covered her teats with hands as big as Gregor Clegane's. The pointy little buds she was so intent on hiding would have looked more natural on some ten-year-old than they did on her thick muscular chest.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" she demanded.\n\n\"Lord Bolton insists I sup with him, but he neglected to invite my fleas.\" Jaime tugged at his guard with his left hand. \"Help me out of these stinking rags.\" One-handed, he could not so much as unlace his breeches. The man obeyed grudgingly, but he obeyed. \"Now leave us,\" Jaime said when his clothes lay in a pile on the wet stone floor. \"My lady of Tarth doesn't want the likes of you scum gaping at her teats.\" He pointed his stump at the hatchet-faced woman attending Brienne. \"You too. Wait without. There's only the one door, and the wench is too big to try and shinny up a chimney.\"\n\nThe habit of obedience went deep. The woman followed his guard out, leaving the bathhouse to the two of them. The tubs were large enough to hold six or seven, after the fashion of the Free Cities, so Jaime climbed in with the wench, awkward and slow. Both his eyes were open, though the right remained somewhat swollen, despite Qyburn's leeches. Jaime felt a hundred and nine years old, which was a deal better than he had been feeling when he came to Harrenhal."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Brienne shrunk away from him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There are other tubs.\"\n\n\"This one suits me well enough.\" Gingerly, he immersed himself up to the chin in the steaming water. \"Have no fear, wench. Your thighs are purple and green, and I'm not interested in what you've got between them.\" He had to rest his right arm on the rim, since Qyburn had warned him to keep the linen dry. He could feel the tension drain from his legs, but his head spun. \"If I faint, pull me out. No Lannister has ever drowned in his bath and I don't mean to be the first.\"\n\n\"Why should I care how you die?\"\n\n\"You swore a solemn vow.\" He smiled as a red flush crept up the thick white column of her neck. She turned her back to him. \"Still the shy maiden? What is it that you think I haven't seen?\" He groped for the brush she had dropped, caught it with his fingers, and began to scrub himself desultorily. Even that was difficult, awkward. My left hand is good for nothing.\n\nStill, the water darkened as the caked dirt dissolved off his skin. The wench kept her back to him, the muscles in her great shoulders hunched and hard.\n\n\"Does the sight of my stump distress you so?\" Jaime asked. \"You ought to be pleased. I've lost the hand I killed the king with. The hand that flung the Stark boy from that tower. The hand I'd slide between my sister's thighs to make her wet.\" He thrust his stump at her face. \"No wonder Renly died, with you guarding him.\"\n\nShe jerked to her feet as if he'd struck her, sending awash of hot water across the tub. Jaime caught a glimpse of the thick blonde bush at the juncture of her thighs as she climbed out. She was much hairier than his sister. Absurdly, he felt his cock stir beneath the bathwater. Now I know I have been too long away from Cersei. He averted his eyes, troubled by his body's response. \"That was unworthy,\" he mumbled. \"I'm a maimed man, and bitter. Forgive me, wench. You protected meas well as any man could have, and better than most.\""
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She wrapped her nakedness in a towel. \"Do you mock me?\"\n\nThat pricked him back to anger. \"Are you as thick as a castle wall? That was an apology. I am tired of fighting with you. What say we make a truce?\"\n\n\"Truces are built on trust. Would you have me trust-\"\n\n\"The Kingslayer, yes. The oathbreaker who murdered poor sad Aerys Targaryen.\" Jaime snorted. \"It's not Aerys I rue, it's Robert. \"I hear they've named you Kingslayer, \"he said tome at his coronation feast.\"Just don't think to make it a habit.\" And he laughed. Why is it that no one names Robert oathbreaker? He tore the realm apart, yet I am the one with shit for honor.\"\n\n\"Robert did all he did for love.\" Water ran down Brienne's legs and pooled beneath her feet.\n\n\"Robert did all he did for pride, a cunt, and a pretty face.\" He made a fist... or would have, if he'd had a hand. Pain lanced up his arm, cruel as laughter.\n\n\"He rode to save the realm,\" she insisted.\n\nTo save the realm. \"Did you know that my brother set the Blackwater Rush afire? Wildfire will burn on water. Aerys would have bathed in it if he'd dared. The Targaryens were all mad for fire.\" Jaime felt light-headed. It is the heat inhere, the poison in my blood, the last of my fever. I am not myself. He eased himself down until the water reached his chin. \"Soiled my white cloak... I wore my gold armor that day, but...\"\n\n\"Gold armor?\" Her voice sounded far off, faint."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He floated in heat, in memory. \"After dancing griffins lost the Battle of the Bells, Aerys exiled him.\" Why am I telling this absurd ugly child? \" He had finally realized that Robert was no mere outlaw lord to be crushed at whim, but the greatest threat House Targaryen had faced since Daemon Blackfyre. The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. Jon Darry and Barristan Selmy rode to Stoney Sept to rally what they could of griffins'men, and Prince Rhaegar returned from the south and persuaded his father to swallow his pride and summon my father. But no raven returned from Casterly Rock, and that made the king even more afraid. He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always thereto point out any he might have missed. So His Grace commanded his alchemists to place caches of wildfire allover King's Landing. Beneath Baelor's Sept and the hovels of Flea Bottom, under stables and storehouses, at all seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep itself.\n\n\"Everything was done in the utmost secrecy by a handful of master pyromancers. They did not even trust their own acolytes to help. The queen's eyes had been closed for years, and Rhaegar was busy marshaling an army. But Aerys's new mace-and-dagger Hand was not utterly stupid, and with Rossart, Belis, and Garigus coming and going night and day, he became suspicious. Chelsted, that was his name, Lord Chelsted.\" It had comeback to him suddenly, with the telling. \" I'd thought the man craven, but the day he confronted Aerys he found some courage somewhere. He did all he could to dissuade him. He reasoned, he jested, he threatened, and finally he begged. When that failed he took off his chain of office and flung it down on the floor. Aerys burnt him alive for that, and hung his chain about the neck of Rossart, his favorite pyromancer. The man who had cooked Lord Rickard Stark in his own armor. And all the time, I stood by the foot of the Iron Throne in my white plate, still as a corpse, guarding my liege and all his sweet secrets."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My Sworn Brothers were all away, you see, but Aerys liked to keep me close. I was my father's son, so he did not trust me. He wanted me where Varys could watch me, day and night. So I heard it all.\" He remembered how Rossart's eyes would shine when he unrolled his maps to show where the substance must be placed. Garigus and Belis were the same. \" Rhaegar met Robert on the Trident, and you know what happened there. When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia would have gone as well, but he forbade it. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but he thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side. The traitors want my city, I heard him tell Rossart, but I'll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. The Targaryens never bury their dead, they burn them. Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Though if truth be told, I do not believe he truly expected to die. Like Aerion Brightfire before him, Aerys thought the fire would transform him... that he would rise again, reborn as a dragon, and turn all his enemies to ash.\n\n\"Ned Stark was racing south with Robert's van, but my father's forces reached the city first. Pycelle convinced the king that his Warden of the West had come to defend him, so he opened the gates. The onetime he should have heeded Varys, and he ignored him. My father had held back from the war, brooding on all the wrongs Aerys had done him and determined that House Lannister should be on the winning side. The Trident decided him."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It fell tome to hold the Red Keep, but I knew we were lost. I sent to Aerys asking his leave to make terms. My man came back with a royal command. \"Bring me your father's head, if you are no traitor. ' Aerys would have no yielding. Lord Rossart was with him, my messenger said. I knew what that meant.\n\n\"When I came on Rossart, he was dressed as a common man-at-arms, hurrying to a postern gate. I slew him first. Then I slew Aerys, before he could find someone else to carry his message to the pyromancers. Days later, I hunted down the others and slew them as well. Belis offered me gold, and Garigus wept for mercy. Well, a sword's more merciful than fire, but I don't think Garigus much appreciated the kindness I showed him.\"\n\nThe water had grown cool. When Jaime opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the stump of his sword hand. The hand that made me Kingslayer. The goat had robbed him of his glory and his shame, both at once. Leaving what? Who am I now?\n\nThe wench looked ridiculous, clutching her towel to her meager teats with her thick white legs sticking out beneath. \"Has my tale turned you speechless? Come, curse me or kiss me or call me a liar. Something.\"\n\n\"If this is true, how is it no one knows?\"\n\n\"The knights of the Kingsguard are sworn to keep the king's secrets. Would you have me break my oath?\" Jaime laughed. \"Do you think the noble Lord of Winterfell wanted to hear my feeble explanations? Such an honorable man. He only had to look at me to judge me guilty.\" Jaime lurched to his feet, the water running cold down his chest. \"By what right does the wolf judge the lion? By what right?\" A violent shiver took him, and he smashed his stump against the rim of the tubas he tried to climb out."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pain shuddered through him... and suddenly the bathhouse was spinning. Brienne caught him before he could fall. Her arm was all gooseflesh, clammy and chilled, but she was strong, and gentler than he would have thought. Gentler than Cersei, he thought as she helped him from the tub, his legs wobbly as a limp cock. \"Guards!\" he heard the wench shout. \"The Kingslayer!\"\n\nJaime, he thought, my name is Jaime.\n\nThe next he knew, he was lying on the damp floor with the guards and the wench and Qyburn all standing over him looking concerned. Brienne was naked, but she seemed to have forgotten that for the moment. \"The heat of the tubs will do it,\" Maester Qyburn was telling them. No, he's not a maester, they took his chain. \"There's still poison in his blood as well, and he's malnourished. What have you been feeding him?\"\n\n\"Worms and piss and grey vomit,\" offered Jaime.\n\n\"Hardbread and water and oat porridge,\" insisted the guard. \"He don't hardly eat it, though. What should we do with him?\"\n\n\"Scrub him and dress him and carry him to Kingspyre, if need be,\" Qyburn said. \"Lord Bolton insists he will sup with him tonight. The time is growing short.\"\n\n\"Bring me clean garb for him,\" Brienne said, \"I'll see that he's washed and dressed.\"\n\nThe others were all too glad to give her the task. They lifted him to his feet and sat him on a stone bench by the wall. Brienne went away to retrieve her towel, and returned with a stiff brush to finish scrubbing him. One of the guards gave her a razor to trim his beard. Qyburn returned with roughspun smallclothes, clean black woolen breeches, a loose green tunic, and a leather jerkin that laced up the front. Jaime was feeling less dizzy by then, though no less clumsy. With the wench's help he managed to dress himself. \"Now all I need is a silver looking glass.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Bloody Maester had brought fresh clothing for Brienne as well; a stained pink satin gown and a linen undertunic. \"I am sorry, my lady. These were the only women's garments in Harrenhal large enough to fit you.\"\n\nIt was obvious at once that the gown had been cut for someone with slimmer arms, shorter legs, and much fuller breasts. The fine Myrish lace did little to conceal the bruising that mottled Brienne's skin. All in all, the garb made the wench look ludicrous. She has thicker shoulders than I do, and a bigger neck, Jaime thought. Small wonder she prefers to dress in mail. Pink was not a kind color for her either. A dozen cruel japes leaped into his head, but for once he kept them there. Best not to make her angry; he was no match for her one-handed.\n\nQyburn had brought a flask as well. \"What is it?\" Jaime demanded when the chainless maester pressed him to drink.\n\n\"Licorice steeped in vinegar, with honey and cloves. It will give you some strength and clear your head.\"\n\n\"Bring me the potion that grows new hands,\" said Jaime. \"That's the one I want.\"\n\n\"Drink it,\" Brienne said, unsmiling, and he did.\n\nIt was half an hour before he felt strong enough to stand. After the dim wet warmth of the bathhouse, the air outside was a slap across the face. \"M'lord will be looking for him by now,\" a guard told Qyburn. \"Her too. Do I need to carry him?\"\n\n\"I can still walk. Brienne, give me your arm.\"\n\nClutching her, Jaime let them herd him across the yard to avast draughty hall, larger even than the throne room in King's Landing. Huge hearths lined the walls, one every ten feet or so, more than he could count, but no fires had been lit, so the chill between the walls went bone-deep. A dozen spearmen in fur cloaks guarded the doors and the steps that led up to the two galleries above. And in the center of that immense emptiness, at a trestle table surrounded by what seemed like acres of smooth slate floor, the Lord of the Dreadfort waited, attended only by a cupbearer."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My lord,\" said Brienne, when they stood before him.\n\nRoose Bolton's eyes were paler than stone, darker than milk, and his voice was spider soft. \"I am pleased that you are strong enough to attend me, ser. My lady, do be seated.\" He gestured at the spread of cheese, bread, cold meat, and fruit that covered the table. \"Will you drink red or white? Of indifferent vintage, I fear. Ser Amory drained Lady Whent's cellars nearly dry.\"\n\n\"I trust you killed him for it.\" Jaime slid into the offered seat quickly, so Bolton could not see how weak he was. \"White is for Starks. I'll drink red like a good Lannister.\"\n\n\"I would prefer water,\" said Brienne.\n\n\"Elmar, the red for Ser Jaime, water for the Lady Brienne, and hippocras for myself.\" Bolton waved a hand at their escort, dismissing them, and the men beat a silent retreat.\n\nHabit made Jaime reach for his wine with his right hand. His stump rocked the goblet, spattering his clean linen bandages with bright red spots and forcing him to catch the cup with his left hand before it fell, but Bolton pretended not to notice his clumsiness. The northman helped himself to a prune and ate it with small sharp bites. \"Do try these, Ser Jaime. They are most sweet, and help move the bowels as well. Lord Vargo took them from an inn before he burnt it.\"\n\n\"My bowels move fine, that goat's no lord, and your prunes don't interest me half so much as your intentions.\"\n\n\"Regarding you?\" A faint smile touched Roose Bolton's lips. \"You area perilous prize, ser. You sow dissension wherever you go. Even here, in my happy house of Harrenhal.\" His voice was a whisker above a whisper. \"And in Riverrun as well, it seems. Do you know, Edmure Tully has offered a thousand golden dragons for your recapture?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Is that all? \"My sister will pay ten times as much.\"\n\n\"Will she?\" That smile again, therefor an instant, gone as quick. \"Ten thousand dragons is a formidable sum. Of course, there is Lord Karstark's offer to consider as well. He promises the hand of his daughter to the man who brings him your head.\"\n\n\"Leave it to your goat to get it backward,\" said Jaime.\n\nBolton gave a soft chuckle. \"Harrion Karstark was captive here when we took the castle, did you know? I gave him all the Karhold men still with me and sent him off with Glover. I do hope nothing ill befell him at Duskendale... else Alys Karstark would be all that remains of Lord Rickard's progeny.\" He chose another prune. \"Fortunately for you, I have no need of a wife. I wed the Lady Walda Frey whilst I was at the Twins.\"\n\n\"Fair Walda?\" Awkwardly, Jaime tried to hold the bread with his stump while tearing it with his left hand.\n\n\"Fat Walda. My lord of Frey offered me my bride's weight in silver fora dowry, so I chose accordingly. Elmar, break off some bread for Ser Jaime.\"\n\nThe boy tore a fist-sized chunk off one end of the loaf and handed it to Jaime. Brienne tore her own bread. \"Lord Bolton,\" she asked, \"it's said you mean to give Harrenhal to Vargo Hoat.\"\n\n\"That was his price,\" Lord Bolton said. \"The Lannisters are not the only men who pay their debts. I must take my leave soon in any case. Edmure Tully is towed the Lady Roslin Frey at the Twins, and my king commands my attendance.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Edmure weds?\" said Jaime. \"Not Robb Stark?\"\n\n\"His Grace King Robb is wed.\" Bolton spit a prune pit into his hand and put it aside. \"To a Westerling of the Crag. I am told her name is Jeyne. No doubt you know her, ser. Her father is your father's bannerman.\"\n\n\"My father has a good many bannermen, and most of them have daughters.\" Jaime groped one-handed for his goblet, trying to recall this Jeyne. The Westerlings were an old house, with more pride than power.\n\n\"This cannot be true,\" Brienne said stubbornly. \"King Robb was sworn towed a Frey. He would never break faith, he-\"\n\n\"His Grace is a boy of sixteen,\" said Roose Bolton mildly. \"And I would thank you not to question my word, my lady.\"\n\nJaime felt almost sorry for Robb Stark. He won the war on the battlefield and lost it in a bedchamber, poor fool. \"How does Lord Walder relish dining on trout in place of wolf?\" he asked.\n\n\"Oh, trout makes fora tasty supper.\" Bolton lifted a pale finger toward his cupbearer. \"Though my poor Elmar is bereft. He was towed Arya Stark, but my good father of Frey had no choice but to break the betrothal when King Robb betrayed him.\"\n\n\"Is there word of Arya Stark?\" Brienne leaned forward. \"Lady Catelyn had feared that... is the girl still alive?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" said the Lord of the Dreadfort.\n\n\"You have certain knowledge of that, my lord?\"\n\nRoose Bolton shrugged. \"Arya Stark was lost fora time, it was true, but now she has been found. I mean to see her returned safely to the north.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Her and her sister both,\" said Brienne."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tyrion Lannister has promised us both girls for his brother.\"\n\nThat seemed to amuse the Lord of the Dreadfort. \"My lady, has no one told you? Lannisters lie.\"\n\n\"Is that a slight on the honor of my House?\" Jaime picked up the cheese knife with his good hand. \"A rounded point, and dull,\" he said, sliding his thumb along the edge of the blade, \"but it will go through your eye all the same.\" Sweat beaded his brow. He could only hope he did not look as feeble as he felt.\n\nLord Bolton's little smile paid another visit to his lips. \"You speak boldly fora man who needs help to break his bread. My guards are all around us, I remind you.\"\n\n\"All around us, and half a league away.\" Jaime glanced down the vast length of the hall. \"By the time they reach us, you'll be as dead as Aerys.\"\n\n\"'Tis scarcely chivalrous to threaten your host over his own cheese and olives,\" the Lord of the Dreadfort scolded. \"In the north, we hold the laws of hospitality sacred still.\"\n\n\"I'm a captive here, not a guest. Your goat cutoff my hand. If you think some prunes will make me overlook that, you're bloody well mistaken.\"\n\nThat took Roose Bolton aback. \"Perhaps I am. Perhaps I ought to make a wedding gift of you to Edmure Tully... or strike your head off, as your sister did for Eddard Stark.\"\n\n\"I would not advise it. Casterly Rock has along memory.\"\n\n\"A thousand leagues of mountain, sea, and bog lie between my walls and your rock. Lannister enmity means little to Bolton.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lannister friendship could mean much.\" Jaime thought he knew the game they were playing now. But does the wench know as well? He dare not look to see.\n\n\"I am not certain you are the sort of friends a wise man would want.\" Roose Bolton beckoned to the boy. \"Elmar, carve our guests a slice off the roast.\"\n\nBrienne was served first, but made no move to eat. \"My lord,\" she said, \"Ser Jaime is to be exchanged for Lady Catelyn's daughters. You must free us to continue on our way.\"\n\n\"The raven that came from Riverrun told of an escape, not an exchange. And if you helped this captive slip his bonds, you are guilty of treason, my lady.\"\n\nThe big wench rose to her feet. \"I serve Lady Stark.\"\n\n\"And I the King in the North. Or the King Who Lost the North, as some now call him. Who never wished to trade Ser Jaime back to the Lannisters.\"\n\n\"Sit down and eat, Brienne,\" Jaime urged, as Elmar placed a slice of roast before him, dark and bloody. \"If Bolton meant to kill us, he wouldn't be wasting his precious prunes onus, at such peril to his bowels.\" He stared at the meat and realized there was noway to cut it, one-handed. I am worthless than a girl now, he thought. The goat's evened the trade, though I doubt Lady Catelyn will thank him when Cersei returns her whelps in like condition. The thought made him grimace. I will get the blame for that as well, I'll wager.\n\nRoose Bolton cut his meat methodically, the blood running across his plate. \"Lady Brienne, will you sit if I tell you that I hope to send Ser Jaime on, just as you and Lady Stark desire?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I... you'd send us on?\" The wench sounded wary, but she sat. \"That is good, my lord.\"\n\n\"It is. However, Lord Vargo has created me one small... difficulty.\" He turned his pale eyes on Jaime. \"Do you know why Hoat cutoff your hand?\"\n\n\"He enjoys cutting off hands.\" The linen that covered Jaime's stump was spotted with blood and wine. \"He enjoys cutting off feet as well. He doesn't seem to need a reason.\"\n\n\"Nonetheless, he had one. Hoat is more cunning than he appears. No man commands a company such as the Brave Companions for long unless he has some wits about him.\" Bolton stabbed a chunk of meat with the point of his dagger, put it in his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed. \"Lord Vargo abandoned House Lannister because I offered him Harrenhal, a reward a thousand times greater than any he could hope to have from Lord Tywin. As a stranger to Westeros, he did not know the prize was poisoned.\"\n\n\"The curse of Harren the Black?\" mocked Jaime.\n\n\"The curse of Tywin Lannister.\" Bolton held out his goblet and Elmar refilled it silently. \"Our goat should have consulted the Tarbecks or the Reynes. They might have warned him how your lord father deals with betrayal.\"\n\n\"There are no Tarbecks or Reynes,\" said Jaime.\n\n\"My point precisely. Lord Vargo doubtless hoped that Lord Stannis would triumph at King's Landing, and thence confirm him in his possession of this castle ingratitude for his small part in the downfall of House Lannister.\" He gave a dry chuckle. \"He knows little of Stannis Baratheon either, I fear. That one might have given him Harrenhal for his service... but he would have given him a noose for his crimes as well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A noose is kinder than what he'll get from my father.\"\n\n\"By now he has come to the same realization. With Stannis broken and Renly dead, only a Stark victory can save him from Lord Tywin's vengeance, but the chances of that grow perishingly slim.\"\n\n\"King Robb has won every battle,\" Brienne said stoutly, as stubbornly loyal of speech as she was of deed.\n\n\"Won every battle, while losing the Freys, the Karstarks, Winterfell, and the north. A pity the wolf is so young. Boys of sixteen always believe they are immortal and invincible. An older man would bend the knee, I'd think. After a war there is always a peace, and with peace there are pardons... for the Robb Starks, at least. Not for the likes of Vargo Hoat.\" Bolton gave him a small smile. \"Both sides have made use of him, but neither will shed a tear at his passing. The Brave Companions did not fight in the Battle of the Blackwater, yet they died there all the same.\"\n\n\"You'll forgive me if I don't mourn?\"\n\n\"You have no pity for our wretched doomed goat? Ah, but the gods must... else why deliver you into his hands?\" Bolton chewed another chunk of meat. \" Karhold is smaller and meaner than Harrenhal, but it lies well beyond the reach of the lion's claws. Once wed to Alys Karstark, Hoat might be a lord in truth. If he could collect some gold from your father so much the better, but he would have delivered you to Lord Rickard no matter how much Lord Tywin paid. His price would be the maid, and safe refuge.\n\n\"But to sell you he must keep you, and the riverlands are full of those who would gladly steal you away. Glover and Tallhart were broken at Duskendale, but remnants of their host are still abroad, with the Mountain slaughtering the stragglers. A thousand Karstarks prowl the lands south and east of Riverrun, hunting you. Elsewhere are Darry men left lordless and lawless, packs of four-footed wolves, and the lightning lord's outlaw bands. Dondarrion would gladly hang you and the goat together from the same tree.\" The Lord of the Dreadfort sopped up some of the blood with a chunk of bread. \" Harrenhal was the only place Lord Vargo could hope to hold you safe, but here his Brave Companions are much outnumbered by my own men, and by Ser Aenys and his Freys. No doubt he feared I might return you to Ser Edmure at Riverrun... or worse, send you onto your father."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"By maiming you, he meant to remove your sword as a threat, gain himself a grisly token to send to your father, and diminish your value tome. For he is my man, as I am King Robb's man. Thus his crime is mine, or may seem so in your father's eyes. And therein lies my... small difficulty.\" He gazed at Jaime, his pale eyes unblinking, expectant, chill.\n\nI see. \"You want me to absolve you of blame. To tell my father that this stump is no work of yours.\" Jaime laughed. \"My lord, send me to Cersei, and I'll sing as sweet a song as you could want, of how gently you treated me.\" Any other answer, he knew, and Bolton would give him back to the goat. \"Had Ia hand, I'd write it out. How I was maimed by the sellsword my own father brought to Westeros, and saved by the noble Lord Bolton.\"\n\n\"I will trust to your word, ser.\"\n\nThere's something I don't often hear. \"How soon might we be permitted to leave? And how do you mean to get me past all these wolves and brigands and Karstarks?\"\n\n\"You will leave when Qyburn says you are strong enough, with a strong escort of picked men under the command of my captain, Walton. Steelshanks, he is called. A soldier of iron loyalty. Walton will see you safe and whole to King's Landing.\"\n\n\"Provided Lady Catelyn's daughters are delivered safe and whole as well,\" said the wench. \"My lord, your man Walton's protection is welcome, but the girls are my charge.\"\n\nThe Lord of the Dreadfort gave her an uninterested glance. \"The girls need not concern you any further, my lady. The Lady Sansa is the dwarf's wife, only the gods can part them now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"His wife?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Brienne said, appalled. \"The Imp? But... he swore, before the whole court, insight of gods and men...\"\n\nShe is such an innocent. Jaime was almost as surprised, if truth be told, but he hid it better. Sansa Stark, that ought to put a smile on Tyrion's face. He remembered how happy his brother had been with his little crofter's daughter... fora fortnight.\n\n\"What the Imp did or did nor swear scarcely matters now,\" said Lord Bolton. \"Least of all to you.\" The wench looked almost wounded. Perhaps she finally felt the steel jaws of the trap when Roose Bolton beckoned to his guards. \"Ser Jaime will continue onto King's Landing. I said nothing about you, I fear. It would be unconscionable of me to deprive Lord Vargo of both his prizes.\" The Lord of the Dreadfort reached out to pick another prune. \"Were I you, my lady, I should worry less about Starks and rather more about sapphires.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "TYRION\n\nA horse whickered impatiently behind him, from amidst the ranks of gold cloaks drawn up across the road. Tyrion could hear Lord Gyles coughing as well. He had not asked for Gyles, no more than he'd asked for Ser Addam or Jalabhar Xho or any of the rest, but his lord father felt Doran Martell might take it ill if only a dwarf came out to escort him across the Blackwater.\n\nJoffrey should have met the Dornishmen himself, he reflected as he sat waiting, but he would have mucked it up, no doubt. Of late the king had been repeating little jests about the Dornish that he'd picked up from Mace Tyrell's men-at-arms. How many Dornishmen does it take to shoe a horse? Nine. One to do the shoeing, and eight to lift the horse up. Somehow Tyrion did not think Doran Martell would find that amusing.\n\nHe could see their banners flying as the riders emerged from the green of the living wood in along dusty column. From hereto the river, only bare black trees remained, a legacy of his battle. Too many banners, he thought sourly, as he watched the ashes kick up under the hooves of the approaching horses, as they had beneath the hooves of the Tyrell van as it smashed Stannis in the flank. Martell's brought half the lords of Dorne, by the look of it. He tried to think of some good that might come of that, and failed. \"How many banners do you count?\" he asked Bronn.\n\nThe sellsword knight shaded his eyes. \"Eight... no, nine.\"\n\nTyrion turned in his saddle. \"Pod, come up here. Describe the arms you see, and tell me which houses they represent.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Podrick Payne edged his gelding closer. He was carrying the royal standard, Joffrey's great stag-and-lion, and struggling with its weight. Bronn bore Tyrion's own banner, the lion of Lannister gold on crimson.\n\nHe's getting taller, Tyrion realized as Pod stood in his stirrups fora better look. He'll soon tower over me like all the rest. The lad had been making a diligent study of Dornish heraldry, at Tyrion's command, but as ever he was nervous. \"I can't see. The wind is flapping them.\"\n\n\"Bronn, tell the boy what you see.\"\n\nBronn looked very much the knight today, in his new doublet and cloak, the flaming chain across his chest. \"A red sun on orange,\" he called, \"with a spear through its back.\"\n\n\"Martell,\" Podrick Payne said at once, visibly relieved. \"House Martell of Sunspear, my lord. The Prince of Dorne.\"\n\n\"My horse would have known that one,\" said Tyrion dryly. \"Give him another, Bronn.\"\n\n\"There's a purple flag with yellow balls.\"\n\n\"Lemons?\" Pod said hopefully. \"A purple field strewn with lemons? For House Dalt? Of, of Lemonwood.\"\n\n\"Might be. Next's a big blackbird on yellow. Something pink or white in its claws, hard to say with the banner flapping.\"\n\n\"The vulture of Blackmont grasps a baby in its talons,\" said Pod. \"House Blackmont of Blackmont, ser.\"\n\nBronn laughed. \"Reading books again? Books will ruin your sword eye, boy. I see a skull too. A black banner.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The crowned skull of House Manwoody, bone and gold on black.\" Pod sounded more confident with every correct answer. \"The Manwoodys of Kingsgrave.\"\n\n\"Three black spiders?\"\n\n\"They're scorpions, ser. House Qorgyle of Sandstone, three scorpions black on red.\"\n\n\"Red and yellow, a jagged line between.\"\n\n\"The flames of Hellholt. House Uller.\"\n\nTyrion was impressed. The boy's not half stupid, once he gets his tongue untied. \"Goon, Pod,\" he urged. \"If you get them all, I'll make you a gift.\"\n\n\"A pie with red and black slices,\" said Bronn. \"There's a gold hand in the middle.\"\n\n\"House Allyrion of Godsgrace.\"\n\n\"A red chicken eating a snake, looks like.\"\n\n\"The Gargalens of Salt Shore. A cockatrice. Ser. Pardon. Not a chicken. Red, with a blacksnake in its beak.\"\n\n\"Very good!\" exclaimed Tyrion. \"One more, lad.\"\n\nBronn scanned the ranks of the approaching Dornishmen. \"The last's a golden feather on green checks.\"\n\n\"A golden quill, ser. Jordayne of the Tor.\"\n\nTyrion laughed. \"Nine, and well done. I could not have named them all myself.\" That was a lie, but it would give the boy some pride, and that he badly needed.\n\nMartell brings some formidable companions, it would seem. Not one of the houses Pod had named was small or insignificant. Nine of the greatest lords of Dorne were coming up the kingsroad, them or their heirs, and somehow Tyrion did not think they had come all this way just to seethe dancing bear. There was a message here. And not one I like. He wondered if it had been a mistake to ship Myrcella down to Sunspear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My lord,\" Pod said, a little timidly, \"there's no litter.\"\n\nTyrion turned his head sharply. The boy was right.\n\n\"Doran Martell always travels in a litter,\" the boy said. \"A carved litter with silk hangings, and suns on the drapes.\"\n\nTyrion had heard the same talk. Prince Doran was past fifty, and gouty. He may have wanted to make faster time, he told himself. He may have feared his litter would make too tempting a target for brigands, or that it would prove too cumbersome in the high passes of the Boneway. Perhaps his gout is better.\n\nSo why did he have such a bad feeling about this?\n\nThis waiting was intolerable. \"Banners forward,\" he snapped. \"We'll meet them.\" He kicked his horse. Bronn and Pod followed, one to either side. When the Dornishmen saw them coming, they spurred their own mounts, banners rippling as they rode. From their ornate saddles were slung the round metal shields they favored, and many carried bundles of short throwing spears, or the double-curved Dornish bows they used so well from horseback.\n\nThere were three sorts of Dornishmen, the first King Daeron had observed. There were the salty Dornishmen who lived along the coasts, the sandy Dornishmen of the deserts and long river valleys, and the stony Dornishmen who made their fastnesses in the passes and heights of the Red Mountains. The salty Dornishmen had the most Rhoynish blood, the stony Dornishmen the least.\n\nAll three sorts seemed well represented in Doran's retinue. The salty Dornishmen were lithe and dark, with smooth olive skin and long black hair streaming in the wind. The sandy Dornishmen were even darker, their faces burned brown by the hot Dornish sun. They wound long bright scarfs around their helms toward off sunstroke. The stony Dornishmen were biggest and fairest, sons of the Andals and the First Men, brown-haired or blond, with faces that freckled or burned in the sun instead of browning."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The lords wore silk and satin robes with jeweled belts and flowing sleeves."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Their armor was heavily enameled and inlaid with burnished copper, shining silver, and soft red gold. They came astride red horses and golden ones and a few as pale as snow, all slim and swift, with long necks and narrow beautiful heads. The fabled sand steeds of Dorne were smaller than proper warhorses and could not bear such weight of armor, but it was said that they could run fora day and night and another day, and never tire.\n\nThe Dornish leader forked a stallion black as sin with a mane and tail the color of fire. He sat his saddle as if he'd been born there, tall, slim, graceful. A cloak of pale red silk fluttered from his shoulders, and his shirt was armored with overlapping rows of copper disks that glittered like a thousand bright new pennies as he rode. His high gilded helm displayed a copper sun on its brow, and the round shield slung behind him bore the sun-and-spear of House Martell on its polished metal surface.\n\nA Martell sun, but ten years too young, Tyrion thought as he reined up, too fit as well, and far too fierce. He knew what he must deal with by then. How many Dornishmen does it take to start a war? he asked himself. Only one. Yet he had no choice but to smile. \"Well met, my lords. We had word of your approach, and His Grace King Joffrey bid me ride out to welcome you in his name. My lord father the King's Hand sends his greetings as well.\" He feigned an amiable confusion. \"Which of you is Prince Doran?\"\n\n\"My brother's health requires he remain at Sunspear.\" The princeling removed his helm. Beneath, his face was lined and saturnine, with thin arched brows above large eyes as black and shiny as pools of coal oil. Only a few streaks of silver marred the lustrous black hair that receded from his brow in a widow's peak as sharply pointed as his nose. A salty Dornishmen for certain. \"Prince Doran has sent me to join King Joffrey's council in his stead, as it please His Grace.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"His Grace will be most honored to have the counsel of a warrior as renowned as Prince Oberyn of Dorne,\" said Tyrion, thinking, This will mean blood in the gutters."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And your noble companions are most welcome as well.\"\n\n\"Permit me to acquaint you with them, my lord of Lannister. Ser Deziel Dalt, of Lemonwood. Lord Tremond Gargalen. Lord Harmen Uller and his brother Ser Ulwyck. Ser Ryon Allyrion and his natural son Ser Daemon Sand, the Bastard of Godsgrace. Lord Dagos Manwoody, his brother Ser Myles, his sons Mors and Dickon. Ser Arron Qorgyle. And never let it bethought that I would neglect the ladies. Myria Jordayne, heir to the Tor. Lady Larra Blackmont, her daughter Jynessa, her son Perros.\" He raised a slender hand toward a black-haired woman to the rear, beckoning her forward. \"And this is Ellaria Sand, mine own paramour.\"\n\nTyrion swallowed a groan. His paramour, and bastard-born, Cersei will pitch a holy fit if he wants her at the wedding. If she consigned the woman to some dark corner below the salt, his sister would risk the Red Viper's wrath. Seat her beside him at the high table, and every other lady on the dais was like to take offense. Did Prince Doran mean to provoke a quarrel?\n\nPrince Oberyn wheeled his horse about to face his fellow Dornishmen. \"Ellaria, lords and ladies, sers, see how well King Joffrey loves us. His Grace has been so kind as to send his own Uncle Imp to bring us to his court.\"\n\nBronn snorted back laughter, and Tyrion perforce must feign amusement as well. \"Not alone, my lords. That would be too enormous a task fora little manlike me.\" His own party had come upon them, so it was his turn to name the names. \"Let me present Ser Flement Brax, heir to Hornvale. Lord Gyles of Rosby. Ser Addam Marbrand, Lord Commander of the City Watch. Jalabhar Xho, Prince of the Red Flower Vale. Ser Harys Swyft, my uncle Kevan's good father by marriage. Ser Merlon Crakehall. Ser Philip Foote and Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, two heroes of our recent battle against the rebel Stannis Baratheon. And mine own squire, young Podrick of House Payne.\" The names had a nice ringing sound as Tyrion reeled them off, but the bearers were nowise near as distinguished nor formidable a company as those who accompanied Prince Oberyn, as both of them knew full well."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My lord of Lannister,\" said Lady Blackmont, \"we have come along dusty way, and rest and refreshment would be most welcome. Might we continue onto the city?\"\n\n\"At once, my lady.\" Tyrion turned his horse's head, and called to Ser Addam Marbrand. The mounted gold cloaks who formed the greatest part of his honor guard turned their horses crisply at Ser Addam's command, and the column set off for the river and King's Landing beyond.\n\nOberyn Nymeros Martell, Tyrion muttered under his breath as he fell in beside the man. The Red Viper of Dorne. And what in the seven hells am I supposed to do with him?\n\nHe knew the man only by reputation, to be sure... but the reputation was fearsome. When he was no more than sixteen, Prince Oberyn had been found abed with the paramour of old Lord Yronwood, a huge man of fierce repute and short temper. A duel ensued, though in view of the prince's youth and high birth, it was only to first blood. Both men took cuts, and honor was satisfied. Yet Prince Oberyn soon recovered, while Lord Yronwood's wounds festered and killed him. Afterward men whispered that Oberyn had fought with a poisoned sword, and ever thereafter friends and foes alike called him the Red Viper.\n\nThat was many years ago, to be sure. The boy of sixteen was a man past forty now, and his legend had grown a deal darker. He had traveled in the Free Cities, learning the poisoner's trade and perhaps arts darker still, if rumors could be believed. He had studied at the Citadel, going so far as to forge six links of a maester's chain before he grew bored. He had soldiered in the Disputed Lands across the narrow sea, riding with the Second Sons fora time before forming his own company. His tourneys, his battles, his duels, his horses, his carnality... it was said that he bedded men and women both, and had begotten bastard girls allover Dorne. The sand snakes, men called his daughters. So far as Tyrion had heard, Prince Oberyn had never fathered a son."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And of course, he had crippled the heir to Highgarden.\n\nThere is no man in the Seven Kingdoms who will be less welcome at a Tyrell wedding, thought Tyrion. To send Prince Oberyn to King's Landing while the city still hosted Lord Mace Tyrell, two of his sons, and thousands of their men-at-arms was a provocation as dangerous as Prince Oberyn himself. A wrong word, an ill-timed jest, a look, that's all it will take, and our noble allies will beat one another's throats.\n\n\"We have met before,\" the Dornish prince said lightly to Tyrion as they rode side by side along the kingsroad, past ashen fields and the skeletons of trees. \"I would not expect you to remember, though. You were even smaller than you are now.\"\n\nThere was a mocking edge to his voice that Tyrion misliked, but he was not about to let the Dornishman provoke him. \"When was this, my lord?\" he asked intones of polite interest.\n\n\"Oh, many and many a year ago, when my mother ruled in Dorne and your lord father was Hand to a different king.\"\n\nNot so different as you might think, reflected Tyrion.\n\n\"It was when I visited Casterly Rock with my mother, her consort, and my sister Elia. I was, oh, fourteen, fifteen, thereabouts, Elia a year older. Your brother and sister were eight or nine, as I recall, and you had just been born.\"\n\nA queer time to come visiting. His mother had died giving him birth, so the Martells would have found the Rock deep in mourning. His father especially. Lord Tywin seldom spoke of his wife, but Tyrion had heard his uncles talk of the love between them. In those days, his father had been Aerys's Hand, and many people said that Lord Tywin Lannister ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but Lady Joanna ruled Lord Tywin. \"He was not the same man after she died, Imp,\" his Uncle Gery told him once. \"The best part of him died with her.\" Gerion had been the youngest of Lord Tytos Lannister's four sons, and the uncle Tyrion liked best."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But he was gone now, lost beyond the seas, and Tyrion himself had put Lady Joanna in her grave. \"Did you find Casterly Rock to your liking, my lord?\"\n\n\"Scarcely. Your father ignored us the whole time we were there, after commanding Ser Kevan to see to our entertainment. The cell they gave me had a featherbed to sleep in and Myrish carpets on the floor, but it was dark and windowless, much like a dungeon when you comedown to it, as I told Elia at the time. Your skies were too grey, your wines too sweet, your women too chaste, your food too bland... and you yourself were the greatest disappointment of all.\"\n\n\"I had just been born. What did you expect of me?\"\n\n\"Enormity,\" the black-haired prince replied. \"You were small, but far-famed. We were in Oldtown at your birth, and all the city talked of was the monster that had been born to the King's Hand, and what such an omen might foretell for the realm.\"\n\n\"Famine, plague, and war, no doubt.\" Tyrion gave a sour smile. \"It's always famine, plague, and war. Oh, and winter, and the long night that never ends.\"\n\n\"All that,\" said Prince Oberyn, \"and your father's fall as well. Lord Tywin had made himself greater than King Aerys, I heard one begging brother preach, but only a god is meant to stand above a king. You were his curse, a punishment sent by the gods to teach him that he was no better than any other man.\"\n\n\"I try, but he refuses to learn.\" Tyrion gave a sigh. \"But do goon, I pray you. I love a good tale.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In your role as the author's collaborator, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 40"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But he was gone now, lost beyond the seas, and Tyrion himself had put Lady Joanna in her grave. \"Did you find Casterly Rock to your liking, my lord?\"\n\n\"Scarcely. Your father ignored us the whole time we were there, after commanding Ser Kevan to see to our entertainment. The cell they gave me had a featherbed to sleep in and Myrish carpets on the floor, but it was dark and windowless, much like a dungeon when you comedown to it, as I told Elia at the time. Your skies were too grey, your wines too sweet, your women too chaste, your food too bland... and you yourself were the greatest disappointment of all.\"\n\n\"I had just been born. What did you expect of me?\"\n\n\"Enormity,\" the black-haired prince replied. \"You were small, but far-famed. We were in Oldtown at your birth, and all the city talked of was the monster that had been born to the King's Hand, and what such an omen might foretell for the realm.\"\n\n\"Famine, plague, and war, no doubt.\" Tyrion gave a sour smile. \"It's always famine, plague, and war. Oh, and winter, and the long night that never ends.\"\n\n\"All that,\" said Prince Oberyn, \"and your father's fall as well. Lord Tywin had made himself greater than King Aerys, I heard one begging brother preach, but only a god is meant to stand above a king. You were his curse, a punishment sent by the gods to teach him that he was no better than any other man.\"\n\n\"I try, but he refuses to learn.\" Tyrion gave a sigh. \"But do goon, I pray you. I love a good tale.\""
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"value": "\"And well you might, since you were said to have one, a stiff curly tail like a swine's. Your head was monstrous huge, we heard, half again the size of your body, and you had been born with thick black hair and a beard besides, an evil eye, and lion's claws. Your teeth were so long you could not close your mouth, and between your legs were a girl's privates as well as a boy's.\"\n\n\"Life would be much simpler if men could fuck themselves, don't you agree? And I can think of a few times when claws and teeth might have proved useful. Even so, I begin to seethe nature of your complaint.\"\n\nBronn gave outwith a chuckle, but Oberyn only smiled. \"We might never have seen you at all but for your sweet sister. You were never seen at table or hall, though sometimes at night we could hear a baby howling down in the depths of the Rock. You did have a monstrous great voice, I must grant you that. You would wail for hours, and nothing would quiet you but a woman's teat.\"\n\n\"Still true, as it happens.\"\n\nThis time Prince Oberyn did laugh. \"A taste we share. Lord Gargalen once told me he hoped to die with a sword in his hand, to which I replied that I would sooner go with abreast in mine.\"\n\nTyrion had to grin. \"You were speaking of my sister?\"\n\n\"Cersei promised Elia to show you to us. The day before we were to sail, whilst my mother and your father were closeted together, she and Jaime took us down to your nursery. Your wet nurse tried to send us off, but your sister was having none of that. \"He's mine, \"she said,\"and you're just a milk cow, you can't tell me what to do. Be quiet or I'll have my father cut your tongue out. A cow doesn't need a tongue, only udders. '\""
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"value": "\"Her Grace learned charm at an early age,\" said Tyrion, amused by the notion of his sister claiming him as hers. \" She's never been in any rush to claim me since, the gods know.\n\n\"Cersei even undid your swaddling clothes to give us a better look,\" the Dornish prince continued. \"You did have one evil eye, and some black fuzz on your scalp. Perhaps your head was larger than most... but there was no tail, no beard, neither teeth nor claws, and nothing between your legs but a tiny pink cock. After all the wonderful whispers, Lord Tywin's Doom turned out to be just a hideous red infant with stunted legs. Elia even made the noise that young girls make at the sight of infants, I'm sure you've heard it. The same noise they makeover cute kittens and playful puppies. I believe she wanted to nurse you herself, ugly as you were. When I commented that you seemed a poor sort of monster, your sister said,\"He killed my mother, \"and twisted your little cock so hard I thought she was like to pull it off. You shrieked, but it was only when your brother Jaime said,\"Leave him be, you're hurting him,\" that Cersei let goof you. \"It doesn't matter, \"she told us.\"Everyone says he's like to die soon. He shouldn't even have lived this long. '\"\n\nThe sun was shining bright above them, and the day was pleasantly warm for autumn, but Tyrion Lannister went cold allover when he heard that. My sweet sister. He scratched at the scar of his nose and gave the Dornishman a taste of his'evil eye.\" Now why would he tell such a tale? Is he testing me, or simply twisting my cock as Cersei did, so he can hear me scream? \"Be sure and tell that story to my father. It will delight him as much as it did me. The part about my tail, especially. I did have one, but he had it lopped off.\""
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"value": "Prince Oberyn had a chuckle. \"You've grown more amusing since last we met.\"\n\n\"Yes, but I meant to grow taller.\"\n\n\"While we are speaking of amusement, I heard a curious tale from Lord Buckler's steward. He claimed that you had put a taxon women's privy purses.\"\n\n\"It is a taxon whoring,\" said Tyrion, irritated allover again. And it was my bloody father's notion. \"Only a penny for each, ah... act. The King's Hand felt it might help improve the morals of the city.\" And pay for Joffrey's wedding besides. Needless to say, as master of coin, Tyrion had gotten all the blame for it. Bronn said they were calling it the dwarf's penny in the streets. \"Spread your legs for the Halfman, now,\" they were shouting in the brothels and wine sinks, if the sellsword could be believed.\n\n\"I will make certain to keep my pouch full of pennies. Even a prince must pay his taxes.\"\n\n\"Why should you need to go whoring?\" He glanced back to where Ellaria Sand rode among the other women. \"Did you tire of your paramour on the road?\"\n\n\"Never. We share too much.\" Prince Oberyn shrugged. \"We have never shared a beautiful blonde woman, however, and Ellaria is curious. Do you know of such a creature?\"\n\n\"I am a man wedded.\" Though not yet bedded. \"I no longer frequent whores.\" Unless I want to see them hanged.\n\nOberyn abruptly changed the subject. \"It's said there are to be seventy-seven dishes served at the king's wedding feast.\"\n\n\"Are you hungry, my prince?\"\n\n\"I have hungered fora longtime. Though not for food. Pray tell me, when will the justice be served?\""
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"value": "\"Justice.\" Yes, that is why he's here, I should have seen that at once. \"You were close to your sister?\"\n\n\"As children Elia and I were inseparable, much like your own brother and sister.\"\n\nGods, I hope not. \"Wars and weddings have kept us well occupied, Prince Oberyn. I fear no one has yet had the time to look into murders sixteen years stale, dreadful as they were. We shall, of course, just as soon as we may. Any help that Dorne might be able to provide to restore the king's peace would only hasten the beginning of my lord father's inquiry-\"\n\n\"Dwarf,\" said the Red Viper, in atone grown markedly less cordial, \"spare me your Lannister lies. Is it sheep you take us for, or fools? My brother is not a bloodthirsty man, but neither has he been asleep for sixteen years. Jon Arryn came to Sunspear the year after Robert took the throne, and you can be sure that he was questioned closely. Him, and a hundred more. I did not come for some mummer's show of an inquiry. I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane... but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that.\" He smiled. \"An old septon once claimed I was living proof of the goodness of the gods. Do you know why that is, Imp?\"\n\n\"No,\" Tyrion admitted warily.\n\n\"Why, if the gods were cruel, they would have made me my mother's firstborn, and Doran her third. I am a bloodthirsty man, you see. And it is me you must contend with now, not my patient, prudent, and gouty brother.\""
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"value": "Tyrion could seethe sun shining on the Blackwater Rush half a mile ahead, and on the walls and towers and hills of King's Landing beyond. He glanced over his shoulder, at the glittering column following them up the kingsroad. \"You speak like a man with a great host at his back,\" he said, \"yet all I see are three hundred. Do you spy that city there, north of the river?\"\n\n\"The midden heap you call King's Landing?\"\n\n\"That's the very one.\"\n\n\"Not only do I see it, I believe I smell it now.\"\n\n\"Then take a good sniff, my lord. Fill up your nose. Half a million people stink more than three hundred, you'll find. Do you smell the gold cloaks? There are near five thousand of them. My father's own sworn swords must account for another twenty thousand. And then there are the roses. Roses smell so sweet, don't they? Especially when there are so many of them. Fifty, sixty, seventy thousand roses, in the city or camped outside it, I can't really say how many are left, but there's more than I care to count, anyway.\"\n\nMartell gave a shrug. \"In Dorne of old before we married Daeron, it was said that all flowers bow before the sun. Should the roses seek to hinder me I'll gladly trample them underfoot.\"\n\n\"As you trampled Willas Tyrell?\"\n\nThe Dornishman did not react as expected. \"I had a letter from Willas not half a year past. We share an interest in fine horseflesh. He has never borne meany ill will for what happened in the lists. I struck his breastplate clean, but his foot caught in a stirrup as he fell and his horse came down on top of him. I sent a maester to him afterward, but it was all he could do to save the boy's leg. The knee was far past mending. If any were to blame, it was his fool of a father. Willas Tyrell was green as his surcoat and had no business riding in such company. The Fat Flower thrust him into tourneys at too tender an age, just as he did with the other two. He wanted another Leo Longthorn, and made himself a cripple.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There are those who say Ser Loras is better than Leo Longthorn ever was,\" said Tyrion.\n\n\"Renly's little rose? I doubt that.\"\n\n\"Doubt it all you wish,\" said Tyrion, \"but Ser Loras has defeated many good knights, including my brother Jaime.\"\n\n\"By defeated, you mean unhorsed, in tourney. Tell me who he's slain in battle if you mean to frighten me.\"\n\n\"Ser Robar Royce and Ser Emmon Cuy, for two. And men say he performed prodigious feats of valor on the Blackwater, fighting beside Lord Renly's ghost.\"\n\n\"So these same men who saw the prodigious feats saw the ghost as well, yes?\" The Dornishman laughed lightly.\n\nTyrion gave him along look. \"Chataya's on the Street of Silk has several girls who might suit your needs. Dancy has hair the color of honey. Marie's is pale white-gold. I would advise you to keep one or the other by your side at all times, my lord.\"\n\n\"At all times?\" Prince Oberyn lifted a thin black eyebrow. \"And why is that, my good Imp?\"\n\n\"You want to die with abreast in hand, you said.\" Tyrion cantered on ahead to where the ferry barges waited on the south bank of the Blackwater. He had suffered all he meant to suffer of what passed for Dornish wit. Father should have sent Joffrey after all. He could have asked Prince Oberyn if he knew how a Dornishman differed from a cowflop. That made him grin despite himself. He would have to make a point of being on hand when the Red Viper was presented to the king."
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"value": "ARYA\n\nThe man on the roof was the first to die. He was crouched down by the chimney two hundred yards away, no more than a vague shadow in the predawn gloom, but as the sky began to lighten he stirred, stretched, and stood. Anguy's arrow took him in the chest. He tumbled bonelessly down the steep slate pitch, and fell in front of the septry door.\n\nThe Mummers had posted two guards there, but their torch left them night blind, and the outlaws had crept in close. Kyle and Notch let fly together. One man went down with an arrow through his throat, the other through his belly. The second man dropped the torch, and the flames licked up at him. He screamed as his clothes took fire, and that was the end of stealth. Thoros gave a shout, and the outlaws attacked in earnest.\n\nArya watched from atop her horse, on the crest of the wooded ridge that overlooked the septry, mill, brewhouse, and stables and the desolation of weeds, burnt trees, and mud that surrounded them. The trees were mostly bare now, and the few withered brown leaves that still clung to the branches did little to obstruct her view. Lord Beric had left Beardless Dick and Mudge to guard them. Arya hated being left behind like she was some stupid child, but at least Gendry had been kept back as well. She knew better than to try and argue. This was battle, and in battle you had to obey.\n\nThe eastern horizon glowed gold and pink, and overhead a half moon peeked out through low scuttling clouds. The wind blew cold, and Arya could hear the rush of water and the creak of the mill's great wooden waterwheel. There was a smell of rain in the dawn air, but no drops were falling yet. Flaming arrows flew through the morning mists, trailing pale ribbons of fire, and thudded into the wooden walls of the septry. A few smashed through shuttered windows, and soon enough thin tendrils of smoke were rising between the broken shutters."
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"value": "Two Mummers came bursting from the septry side by side, axes in their hands. Anguy and the other archers were waiting. One axeman died at once. The other managed to duck, so the shaft ripped through his shoulder. He staggered on, till two more arrows found him, so quickly it was hard to say which had struck first. The long shafts punched through his breastplate as if it had been made of silk instead of steel. He fell heavily. Anguy had arrows tipped with bodkins as well as broadheads. A bodkin could pierce even heavy plate. I'm going to learn to shoot a bow, Arya thought. She loved swordfighting, but she could see how arrows were good too.\n\nFlames were creeping up the west wall of the septry, and thick smoke poured through a broken window. A Myrish crossbowman poked his head out a different window, got off a bolt, and ducked down to rewind. She could hear fighting from the stables as well, shouts well mingled with the screams of horses and the clang of steel. Kill them all, she thought fiercely. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Kill every single one.\n\nThe crossbowman appeared again, but no sooner had he loosed than three arrows hissed past his head. One rattled off his helm. He vanished, bow and all. Arya could see flames in several of the second-story windows. Between the smoke and the morning mists, the air was a haze of blowing black and white. Anguy and the other bowmen were creeping closer, the better to find targets.\n\nThen the septry erupted, the Mummers boiling out like angry ants. Two Ibbenese rushed through the door with shaggy brown shields held high before them, and behind them came a Dothraki with a great curved arakh and bells in his braid, and behind him three Volantene sellswords covered with fierce tattoos. Others were climbing out windows and leaping to the ground. Arya saw a man take an arrow through the chest with one leg across a windowsill, and heard his scream as he fell. The smoke was thickening. Quarrels and arrows sped back and forth. Watty fell with a grunt, his bow slipping from his hand. Kyle was trying to nock another shaft to his string when a man in blackmail flung a spear through his belly. She heard Lord Beric shout. From out of the ditches and trees the rest of his band came pouring, steel in hand. Arya saw Lem's bright yellow cloak flapping behind him as he rode down the man who'd killed Kyle. Thoros and Lord Beric were everywhere, their swords swirling fire. The red priest hacked at a hide shield until it flew to pieces, while his horse kicked the man in the face. A Dothraki screamed and charged the lightning lord, and the flaming sword leapt out to meet his arakh. The blades kissed and spun and kissed again. Then the Dothraki's hair was ablaze, and a moment later he was dead. She spied Ned too, fighting at the lightning lord's side. It's not fair, he's only a little older than me, they should have let me fight."
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"value": "The battle did not last very long. The Brave Companions still on their feet soon died, or threw down their swords. Two of the Dothraki managed to regain their horses and flee, but only because Lord Beric let them go. \"Let them carry the word back to Harrenhal,\" he said, with flaming sword in hand. \"It will give the Leech Lord and his goat a few more sleepless nights.\"\n\nJack-Be-Lucky, Harwin, and Merrit o' Moontown braved the burning septry to search for captives. They emerged from the smoke and flames a few moments later with eight brown brothers, one so weak that Merrit had to carry him across a shoulder. There was a septon with them as well, round-shouldered and balding, but he wore black chainmail over his grey robes. \"Found him hiding under the cellar steps,\" said Jack, coughing.\n\nThoros smiled to see him. \"You are Utt.\"\n\n\"Septon Utt. A man of god.\"\n\n\"What god would want the likes o' you?\" growled Lem.\n\n\"I have sinned,\" the septon wailed. \"I know, I know. Forgive me, Father. Oh, grievously have I sinned.\"\n\nArya remembered Septon Utt from her time at Harrenhal. Shagwell the Fool said he always wept and prayed for forgiveness after he'd killed his latest boy. Sometimes he even made the other Mummers scourge him. They all thought that was very funny.\n\nLord Beric slammed his sword into its scabbard, quenching the flames. \"Give the dying the gift of mercy and bind the others hand and foot for trial,\" he commanded, and it was done."
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"value": "The trials went swiftly. Various of the outlaws came forward to tell of things the Brave Companions had done; towns and villages sacked, crops burned, women raped and murdered, men maimed and tortured. A few spoke of the boys that Septon Utt had carried off. The septon wept and prayed through it all. \"I am a weak reed,\" he told Lord Beric. \"I pray to the Warrior for strength, but the gods made me weak. Have mercy on my weakness. The boys, the sweet boys... I never mean to hurt them...\"\n\nSepton Utt soon dangled beneath a tall elm, swinging slowly by the neck, as naked as his name day. The other Brave Companions followed one by one. A few fought, kicking and struggling as the noose was tightened round their throats. One of the crossbowmen kept shouting, \"I soldier, I soldier,\" in a thick Myrish accent. Another offered to lead his captors to gold; a third told them what a good outlaw he would make. Each was stripped and bound and hanged in turn. Tom Sevenstrings played a dirge for them on his woodharp, and Thoros implored the Lord of Light to roast their souls until the end of time.\n\nA mummer tree, Arya thought as she watched them dangle, their pale skins painted a sullen red by the flames of the burning septry. Already the crows were coming, appearing out of nowhere. She heard them croaking and cackling atone another, and wondered what they were saying. Arya had not feared Septon Utt as much as she did Rorge and Biter and some of the others still at Harrenhal, but she was glad that he was dead all the same. They should have hanged the Hound too, or chopped his head off. Instead, to her disgust, the outlaws had treated Sandor Clegane's burned arm, restored his sword and horse and armor, and set him free a few miles from the hollow hill. All they'd taken was his gold."
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"value": "The septry soon collapsed in a roar of smoke and flame, its walls no longer able to support the weight of its heavy slate roof."
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"value": "The eight brown brothers watched with resignation. They were all that remained, explained the eldest, who wore a small iron hammer on a thong about his neck to signify his devotion to the Smith. \"Before the war we were four-and-forty, and this was a prosperous place. We had a dozen milk cows and a bull, a hundred beehives, a vineyard and an apple arbor. But when the lions came through they took all our wine and milk and honey, slaughtered the cows, and put our vineyard to the torch. After that... I have lost count of our visitors. This false septon was only the latest. There was one monster... we gave him all our silver, but he was certain we were hiding gold, so his men killed us one by one to make Elder Brother talk.\"\n\n\"How did the eight of you survive?\" asked Anguy the Archer.\n\n\"I am ashamed,\" the old man said. \"It was me. When it came my turn to die, I told them where our gold was hidden.\"\n\n\"Brother,\" said Thoros of Myr, \"the only shame was not telling them at once.\"\n\nThe outlaws sheltered that night in the brewhouse beside the little river. Their hosts had a cache of food hidden beneath the floor of the stables, so they shared a simple supper; oaten bread, onions, and a watery cabbage soup tasting faintly of garlic. Arya found a slice of carrot floating in her bowl, and counted herself lucky. The brothers never asked the outlaws for names. They know, Arya thought. How could they not? Lord Beric wore the lightning bolt on breastplate, shield, and cloak, and Thoros his red robes, or what remained of them. One brother, a young novice, was bold enough to tell the red priest not to pray to his false god so long as he was under their roof. \"Bugger that,\" said Lem Lemoncloak. \"He's our god too, and you owe us for your bloody lives. And what's false about him? Might be your Smith can mend a broken sword, but can he heal a broken man?\""
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"value": "\"Enough, Lem,\" Lord Beric commanded. \"Beneath their roof we will honor their rules.\"\n\n\"The sun will not cease to shine if we miss a prayer or two,\" Thoros agreed mildly. \"I am one who would know.\"\n\nLord Beric himself did not eat. Arya had never seen him eat, though from time to time he took a cup of wine. He did not seem to sleep, either. His good eye would often close, as if from weariness, but when you spoke to him it would flick open again at once. The Marcher lord was still clad in his ratty black cloak and dented breastplate with its chipped enamel lightning. He even slept in that breastplate. The dull black steel hid the terrible wound the Hound had given him, the same way his thick woolen scarf concealed the dark ring about his throat. But nothing hid his broken head, all caved in at the temple, or the raw red pit that was his missing eye, or the shape of the skull beneath his face.\n\nArya looked at him warily, remembering all the tales told of him in Harrenhal. Lord Beric seemed to sense her fear. He turned his head, and beckoned her closer. \"Do I frighten you, child?\"\n\n\"No.\" She chewed her lip. \"Only... well... I thought the Hound had killed you, but...\"\n\n\"A wound,\" said Lem Lemoncloak. \"A grievous wound, aye, but Thoros healed it. There's never been no better healer.\"\n\nLord Beric gazed at Lem with a queer look in his good eye and no look at all in the other, only scars and dried blood. \"No better healer,\" he agreed wearily. \"Lem, past time to change the watch, I'd think. See to it, if you'd be so good.\""
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"value": "\"Aye, m'lord.\" Lem's big yellow cloak swirled behind him as he strode out into the windy night.\n\n\"Even brave men blind themselves sometimes, when they are afraid to see,\" Lord Beric said when Lem was gone. \"Thoros, how many times have you brought me back now?\"\n\nThe red priest bowed his head. \"It is R'hllor who brings you back, my lord. The Lord of Light. I am only his instrument.\"\n\n\"How many times?\" Lord Beric insisted.\n\n\"Six,\" Thoros said reluctantly. \"And each time is harder. You have grown reckless, my lord. Is death so very sweet?\"\n\n\"Sweet? No, my friend. Not sweet.\"\n\n\"Then do not court it so. Lord Tywin leads from the rear. Lord Stannis as well. You would be wise to do the same. A seventh death might mean the end of both of us.\"\n\nLord Beric touched the spot above his left ear where his temple was caved in. \"Here is where Ser Burton Crakehall broke helm and head with a blow of his mace.\" He unwound his scarf, exposing the black bruise that encircled his neck. \"Here the mark the manticore made at Rushing Falls. He seized a poor beekeeper and his wife, thinking they were mine, and let it be known far and wide that he would hang them both unless I gave myself up to him. When I did he hanged them anyway, and me on the gibbet between them.\" He lifted a finger to the raw red pit of his eye. \"Here is where the Mountain thrust his dirk through my visor.\" A weary smile brushed his lips. \"That's thrice I have died at the hands of House Clegane. You would think that I might have learned...\""
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"value": "It was a jest, Arya knew, but Thoros did not laugh. He put a hand on Lord Beric's shoulder. \"Best not to dwell on it.\"\n\n\"Can I dwell on what I scarce remember? I held a castle on the Marches once, and there was a woman I was pledged to marry, but I could not find that castle today, nor tell you the color of that woman's hair. Who knighted me, old friend? What were my favorite foods? It all fades. Sometimes I think I was born on the bloody grass in that grove of ash, with the taste of fire in my mouth and a hole in my chest. Are you my mother, Thoros?\"\n\nArya stared at the Myrish priest, all shaggy hair and pink rags and bits of old armor. Grey stubble covered his cheeks and the sagging skin beneath his chin. He did not look much like the wizards in Old Nan's stories, but even so...\n\n\"Could you bring back a man without ahead?\" Arya asked. \"Just the once, not six times. Could you?\"\n\n\"I have no magic, child. Only prayers. That first time, his lordship had a hole right through him and blood in his mouth, I knew there was no hope. So when his poor torn chest stopped moving, I gave him the good god's own kiss to send him on his way. I filled my mouth with fire and breathed the flames inside him, down his throat to lungs and heart and soul. The last kiss it is called, and many a time I saw the old priests bestow it on the Lord's servants as they died. I had given it a time or two myself, as all priests must. But never before had I felt a dead man shudder as the fire filled him, nor seen his eyes come open. It was not me who raised him, my lady. It was the Lord. R'hllor is not done with him yet. Life is warmth, and warmth is fire, and fire is God's and God's alone.\""
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"value": "Arya felt tears well in her eyes. Thoros used a lot of words, but all they meant was no, that much she understood.\n\n\"Your father was a good man,\" Lord Beric said. \"Harwin has told me much of him. For his sake, I would gladly forgo your ransom, but we need the gold too desperately.\"\n\nShe chewed her lip. That's true, I guess. He had given the Hound's gold to Greenbeard and the Huntsman to buy provisions south of the Mander, she knew. \"The last harvest burned, this one is drowning, and winter will soon be onus,\" she had heard him say when he sent them off. \"The smallfolk need grain and seed, and we need blades and horses. Too many of my men ride rounseys, drays, and mules against foes mounted on coursers and destriers.\"\n\nArya didn't know how much Robb would pay for her, though. He was a king now, not the boy she'd left at Winterfell with snow melting in his hair. And if he knew the things she'd done, the stableboy and the guard at Harrenhal and all...\"What if my brother doesn't want to ransom me?\"\n\n\"Why would you think that?\" asked Lord Beric.\n\n\"Well,\" Arya said, \"my hair's messy and my nails are dirty and my feet are all hard.\" Robb wouldn't care about that, probably, but her mother would. Lady Catelyn always wanted her to be like Sansa, to sing and dance and sew and mind her courtesies. Just thinking of it made Arya try to comb her hair with her fingers, but it was all tangles and mats, and all she did was tear some out. \"I ruined that gown that Lady Smallwood gave me, and I don't sew so good.\" She chewed her lip. \"I don't sew very well, I mean. Septa Mordane used to say I had a blacksmith's hands.\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gendry hooted. \"Those soft little things?\" he called out. \"You couldn't even hold a hammer.\"\n\n\"I could if I wanted!\" she snapped at him.\n\nThoros chuckled. \"Your brother will pay, child. Have no fear on that count.\"\n\n\"Yes, but what if he won't?\" she insisted.\n\nLord Beric sighed. \"Then I will send you to Lady Smallwood fora time, or perhaps to mine own castle of Blackhaven. But that will not be necessary, I'm certain. I do not have the power to give you back your father, no more than Thoros does, but I can at least see that you are returned safely to your mother's arms.\"\n\n\"Do you swear?\" she asked him. Yoren had promised to take her home too, only he'd gotten killed instead.\n\n\"On my honor as a knight,\" the lightning lord said solemnly.\n\nIt was raining when Lem returned to the brewhouse, muttering curses as water ran off his yellow cloak to puddle on the floor. Anguy and Jack-Be-Lucky sat by the door rolling dice, but no matter which game they played one-eyed Jack had no luck at all. Tom Sevenstrings replaced a string on his woodharp, and sang'The Mother's Tears,\" \"When Willum's Wife Was Wet,\" \"Lord Harte Rode Out on a Rainy Day,\" and then'The Rains of Castamere.\"\n\nAnd who are you, the proud lord said,\n\nthat I must bow so low?\n\nOnly a cat of a different coat,\n\nthat's all the truth I know.\n\nIna coat of gold or a coat of red,\n\na lion still has claws,"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And mine are long and sharp, my lord,\n\nas long and sharp as yours.\n\nAnd so he spoke, and so he spoke,\n\nthat lord of Castamere,\n\nBut now the rains weep o'er his hall,\n\nwith no one thereto hear.\n\nYes now the rains weep o'er his hall,\n\nand not a soul to hear.\n\nFinally Tom ran out of rain songs and put away his harp. Then there was only the sound of the rain itself beating down on the slate roof of the brewhouse. The dice game ended, and Arya stood on one leg and then the other listening to Merrit complain about his horse throwing a shoe.\n\n\"I could shoe him for you,\" said Gendry, all of a sudden. \"I was only a 'prentice, but my master said my hand was made to hold a hammer. I can shoe horses, closeup rents in mail, and beat the dents from plate. I bet I could make swords too.\"\n\n\"What are you saying, lad?\" asked Harwin.\n\n\"I'll smith for you.\" Gendry went to one knee before Lord Beric. \"If you'll have me, m'lord, I could be of use. I've made tools and knives and once I made a helmet that wasn't so bad. One of the Mountain's men stole it from me when we was taken.\"\n\nArya bit her lip. He means to leave me too.\n\n\"You would do better serving Lord Tully at Riverrun,\" said Lord Beric. \"I cannot pay for your work.\"\n\n\"No one ever did. I want a forge, and food to eat, someplace I can sleep. That's enough, m'lord.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A smith can find a welcome most anywhere. A skilled armorer even more so. Why would you choose to stay with us?\"\n\nArya watched Gendry screw up his stupid face, thinking. \"At the hollow hill, what you said about being King Robert's men, and brothers, I liked that. I liked that you gave the Hound atrial. Lord Bolton just hanged folk or took off their heads, and Lord Tywin and Ser Amory were the same. I'd sooner smith for you.\"\n\n\"We got plenty of mail needs mending, m'lord,\" Jack reminded Lord Beric. \"Most we took off the dead, and there's holes where the death came through.\"\n\n\"You must be a lackwit, boy,\" said Lem. \"We're outlaws. Lowborn scum, most of us, excepting his lordship. Don't think it'll be like Tom's fool songs neither. You won't be stealing no kisses from a princess, nor riding in no tourneys in stolen armor. You join us, you'll end with your neck in a noose, or your head mounted up above some castle gate.\"\n\n\"It's no more than they'd do for you,\" said Gendry.\n\n\"Aye, that's so,\" said Jack-Be-Lucky cheerfully. \"The crows await us all. M'lord, the boy seems brave enough, and we do have need of what he brings us. Take him, says Jack.\"\n\n\"And quick,\" suggested Harwin, chuckling, \"before the fever passes and he comes back to his senses.\"\n\nA wan smile crossed Lord Beric's lips. \"Thoros, my sword.\"\n\nThis time the lightning lord did not set the blade afire, but merely laid it light on Gendry's shoulder. \"Gendry, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they maybe?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I do, m'lord.\"\n\nThe marcher lord moved the sword from the right shoulder to the left, and said, \"Arise Ser Gendry, knight of the hollow hill, and be welcome to our brotherhood.\"\n\nFrom the door came rough, rasping laughter.\n\nThe rain was running off him. His burned arm was wrapped in leaves and linen and bound tight against his chest by a crude rope sling, but the older burns that marked his face glistened black and slick in the glow of their little fire. \"Making more knights, Dondarrion?\" the intruder said in a growl. \"I ought to kill you allover again for that.\"\n\nLord Beric faced him coolly. \"I'd hoped we'd seen the last of you, Clegane. How did you come to find us?\"\n\n\"It wasn't hard. You made enough bloody smoke to be seen in Oldtown.\"\n\n\"What's become of the sentries I posted?\"\n\nClegane's mouth twitched. \"Those two blind men? Might be I killed them both. What would you do if I had?\"\n\nAnguy strung his bow. Notch was doing the same. \"Do you wish to die so very much, Sandor?\" asked Thoros. \"You must be mad or drunk to follow us here.\"\n\n\"Drunk on rain? You didn't leave me enough gold to buy a cup of wine, you whoresons.\"\n\nAnguy drew an arrow. \"We're outlaws. Outlaws steal. It's in the songs, if you ask nice Tom may sing you one. Be thankful we didn't kill you.\"\n\n\"Come try it, Archer. I'll take that quiver off you and shove those arrows up your freckly little arse.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Anguy raised his longbow, but Lord Beric lifted a hand before he could loose."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why did you come here, Clegane?\"\n\n\"To get back what's mine.\"\n\n\"Your gold?\"\n\n\"What else? It wasn't for the pleasure of looking at your face, Dondarrion, I'll tell you that. You're uglier than me now. And a robber knight besides, it seems.\"\n\n\"I gave you a note for your gold,\" Lord Beric said calmly. \"A promise to pay, when the war's done.\"\n\n\"I wiped my arse with your paper. I want the gold.\"\n\n\"We don't have it. I sent it south with Greenbeard and the Huntsman, to buy grain and seed across the Mander.\"\n\n\"To feed all them whose crops you burned,\" said Gendry.\n\n\"Is that the tale, now?\" Sandor Clegane laughed again. \"As it happens, that's just what I meant to do with it. Feed a bunch of ugly peasants and their poxy whelps.\"\n\n\"You're lying,\" said Gendry.\n\n\"The boy has a mouth on him, I see. Why believe them and not me? Couldn't be my face, could it?\" Clegane glanced at Arya. \"You going to make her a knight too, Dondarrion? The first eight-year-old girl knight?\"\n\n\"I'm twelve,\" Arya lied loudly, \"and I could be a knight if I wanted. I could have killed you too, only Lem took my knife.\" Remembering that still made her angry.\n\n\"Complain to Lem, not me. Then tuck your tail between your legs and run. Do you know what dogs do to wolves?\"\n\n\"Next time I will kill you. I'll kill your brother too!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No.\" His dark eyes narrowed. \"That you won't.\" He turned back to Lord Beric. \"Say, make my horse a knight. He never shits in the hall and doesn't kick more than most, he deserves to be knighted. Unless you meant to steal him too.\"\n\n\"Best climb on that horse and go,\" warned Lem.\n\n\"I'll go with my gold. Your own god said I'm guiltless-\"\n\n\"The Lord of Light gave you back your life,\" declared Thoros of Myr. \"He did not proclaim you Baelor the Blessed come again.\" The red priest unsheathed his sword, and Arya saw that Jack and Merrit had drawn as well. Lord Beric still held the blade he'd used to dub Gendry. Maybe this time they'll kill him.\n\nThe Hound's mouth gave another twitch. \"You're no more than common thieves.\"\n\nLem glowered. \"Your lion friends ride into some village, take all the food and every coin they find, and call it foraging. The wolves as well, so why not us? No one robbed you, dog. You just been good and foraged.\"\n\nSandor Clegane looked at their faces, everyone, as if he were trying to commit them all to memory. Then he walked back out into the darkness and the pouring rain from whence he'd come, with never another word. The outlaws waited, wondering...\n\n\"I best go see what he did to our sentries.\" Harwin took a wary lookout the door before he left, to make certain the Hound was not lurking just outside.\n\n\"How'd that bloody bastard get all that gold anyhow?\" Lem Lemoncloak said, to break the tension.\n\nAnguy shrugged. \"He won the Hand's tourney. In King's Landing.\" The bowman grinned. \"I won a fair fortune myself, but then I met Dancy, Jayde, and Alayaya. They taught me what roast swan tastes like, and how to bathe in Arbor wine.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Pissed it all away, did you?\" laughed Harwin.\n\n\"Not all. I bought these boots, and this excellent dagger.\"\n\n\"You ought t'have bought some land and made one o\" them roast swan girls an honest woman,\" said Jack-Be-Lucky. \"Raised yourself a crop o'turnips and a crop o\" sons.\"\n\n\"Warrior defend me! What a waste that would have been, to turn my gold to turnips.\"\n\n\"I like turnips,\" said Jack, aggrieved. \"I could do with some mashed turnips right now.\"\n\nThoros of Myr paid no heed to the banter. \"The Hound has lost more than a few bags of coin,\" he mused. \"He has lost his master and kennel as well. He cannot go back to the Lannisters, the Young Wolf would never have him, nor would his brother be like to welcome him. That gold was all he had left, it seems tome.\"\n\n\"Bloody hell,\" said Watty the Miller. \"He'll come murder us in our sleep for sure, then.\"\n\n\"No.\" Lord Beric had sheathed his sword. \"Sandor Clegane would kill us all gladly, but not in our sleep. Anguy, on the morrow, take the rear with Beardless Dick. If you see Clegane still sniffing after us, kill his horse.\"\n\n\"That's a good horse,\" Anguy protested.\n\n\"Aye,\" said Lem. \"It's the bloody rider we should be killing. We could use that horse.\"\n\n\"I'm with Lem,\" Notch said. \"Let me feather the dog a few times, discourage him some.\"\n\nLord Beric shook his head. \"Clegane won his life beneath the hollow hill. I will not rob him of it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"My lord is wise,\" Thoros told the others."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Brothers, atrial by battle is a holy thing. You heard me ask R'hllor to take a hand, and you saw his fiery finger snap Lord Beric's sword, just as he was about to make an end of it. The Lord of Light is not yet done with Joffrey's Hound, it would seem.\"\n\nHarwin soon returned to the brewhouse. \"Puddingfoot was sound asleep, but unharmed.\"\n\n\"Wait till I get hold of him,\" said Lem. \"I'll cut him anew bunghole. He could have gotten everyone of us killed.\"\n\nNo one rested very comfortably that night, knowing that Sandor Clegane was out therein the dark, somewhere close. Arya curled up near the fire, warm and snug, yet sleep would not come. She took out the coin that Jaqen H'ghar had given her and curled her fingers around it as she lay beneath her cloak. It made her feel strong to hold it, remembering how she'd seen the ghost in Harrenhal. She could kill with a whisper then.\n\nJaqen was gone, though. He'd left her. Hot Pie left me too, and now Gendry is leaving. Lommy had died, Yoren had died, Syrio Forel had died, even her father had died, and Jaqen had given her a stupid iron penny and vanished. \"Valar morghulis,\" she whispered softly, tightening her fist so the hard edges of the coin dug into her palm. \"Ser Gregor, Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei.\" Arya tried to imagine how they would look when they were dead, but it was hard to bring their faces to mind. The Hound she could see, and his brother the Mountain, and she would never forget Joffrey's face, or his mother's... but Raff and Dunsen and Polliver were all fading, and even the Tickler, whose looks had been so commonplace."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sleep took her at last, but in the black of night Arya woke again, tingling. The fire had burned down to embers. Mudge stood by the door, and another guard was pacing outside. The rain had stopped, and she could hear wolves howling. So close, she thought, and so many. They sounded as if they were all around the stable, dozens of them, maybe hundreds. I hope they eat the Hound. She remembered what he'd said, about wolves and dogs.\n\nCome morning, Septon Utt still swung beneath the tree, but the brown brothers were out in the rain with spades, digging shallow graves for the other dead. Lord Beric thanked them for the night's lodging and the meal, and gave them a bag of silver stags to help rebuild. Harwin, Likely Luke, and Watty the Miller went out scouting, but neither wolves nor hounds were found.\n\nAs Arya was cinching her saddle girth, Gendry came up to say that he was sorry. She put afoot in the stirrup and swung up into her saddle, so she could look down on him instead of up. You could have made swords at Riverrun for my brother, she thought, but what she said was, \"If you want to be some stupid outlaw knight and get hanged, why should I care? I'll beat Riverrun, ransomed, with my brother.\"\n\nThere was no rain that day, thankfully, and for once they made good time."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "BRAN\n\nThe tower stood upon an island, its twin reflected on the still blue waters. When the wind blew, ripples moved across the surface of the lake, chasing one another like boys at play. Oak trees grew thick along the lakeshore, a dense stand of them with a litter of fallen acorns on the ground beneath. Beyond them was the village, or what remained of it.\n\nIt was the first village they had seen since leaving the foothills. Meera had scouted ahead to make certain there was no one lurking amongst the ruins. Sliding in and amongst oaks and apple trees with her net and spear in hand, she startled three red deer and sent them bounding away through the brush. Summer saw the flash of motion and was after them at once. Bran watched the direwolf lope off, and fora moment wanted nothing so much as to slip his skin and run with him, but Meera was waving for them to come ahead. Reluctantly, he turned away from Summer and urged Hodor on, into the village. Jojen walked with them.\n\nThe ground from hereto the Wall was grasslands, Bran knew; fallow fields and low rolling hills, high meadows and lowland bogs. It would be much easier going than the mountains behind, but so much open space made Meera uneasy. \"I feel naked,\" she confessed. \"There's no place to hide.\"\n\n\"Who holds this land?\" Jojen asked Bran.\n\n\"The Night's Watch,\" he answered. \"This is the Gift. The New Gift, and north of that Brandon's Gift.\" Maester Luwin had taught him the history. \"Brandon the Builder gave all the land south of the Wall to the black brothers, to a distance of twenty-five leagues. For their... for their sustenance and support.\" He was proud that he still remembered that part. \"Some maesters say it was some other Brandon, not the Builder, but it's still Brandon's Gift. Thousands of years later, Good Queen Alysanne visited the Wall on her dragon Silverwing, and she thought the Night's Watch was so brave that she had the Old King double the size of their lands, to fifty leagues. So that was the New Gift.\" He waved a hand. \"Here. All this.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No one had lived in the village for long years, Bran could see. All the houses were falling down. Even the inn. It had never been much of an inn, to look at it, but now all that remained was a stone chimney and two cracked walls, set amongst a dozen apple trees. One was growing up through the common room, where a layer of wet brown leaves and rotting apples carpeted the floor. The air was thick with the smell of them, a cloying cidery scent that was almost overwhelming. Meera stabbed a few apples with her frog spear, trying to find some still good enough to eat, but they were all too brown and wormy.\n\nIt was a peaceful spot, still and tranquil and lovely to behold, but Bran thought there was something sad about an empty inn, and Hodor seemed to feel it too. \"Hodor?\" he said in a confused sort of way. \"Hodor? Hodor?\"\n\n\"This is good land.\" Jojen picked up a handful of dirt, rubbing it between his fingers. \"A village, an inn, a stout holdfast in the lake, all these apple trees... but where are the people, Bran? Why would they leave such a place?\"\n\n\"They were afraid of the wildlings,\" said Bran. \"Wildlings come over the Wall or through the mountains, to raid and steal and carry off women. If they catch you, they make your skull into a cup to drink blood, Old Nan used to say. The Night's Watch isn't so strong as it was in Brandon's day or Queen Alysanne's, so more get through. The places nearest the Wall got raided so much the smallfolk moved south, into the mountains or onto the Umber lands east of the kingsroad. The Greatjon's people get raided too, but not so much as the people who used to live in the Gift.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jojen Reed turned his head slowly, listening to music only he could hear."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We need to shelter here. There's a storm coming. A bad one.\"\n\nBran looked up at the sky. It had been a beautiful crisp clear autumn day, sunny and almost warm, but there were dark clouds off to the west now, that was true, and the wind seemed to be picking up. \"There's no roof on the inn and only the two walls,\" he pointed out. \"We should go out to the holdfast.\"\n\n\"Hodor,\" said Hodor. Maybe he agreed.\n\n\"We have no boat, Bran.\" Meera poked through the leaves idly with her frog spear.\n\n\"There's a causeway. A stone causeway, hidden under the water. We could walkout.\" They could, anyway; he would have to ride on Hodor's back, but at least he'd stay dry that way.\n\nThe Reeds exchanged a look. \"How do you know that?\" asked Jojen. \"Have you been here before, my prince?\"\n\n\"No. Old Nan told me. The holdfast has a golden crown, see?\" He pointed across the lake. You could see patches of flaking gold paint up around the crenellations. \"Queen Alysanne slept there, so they painted the merlons gold in her honor.\"\n\n\"A causeway?\" Jojen studied the lake. \"You are certain?\"\n\n\"Certain,\" said Bran.\n\nMeera found the foot of it easily enough, once she knew to look; a stone pathway three feet wide, leading right out into the lake. She took them out step by careful step, probing ahead with her frog spear. They could see where the path emerged again, climbing from the water onto the island and turning into a short flight of stone steps that led to the holdfast door."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Path, steps, and door were in a straight line, which made you think the causeway ran straight, but that wasn't so."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Under the lake it zigged and zagged, going a third of away around the island before jagging back. The turns were treacherous, and the long path meant that anyone approaching would be exposed to arrow fire from the tower fora longtime. The hidden stones were slimy and slippery too; twice Hodor almost lost his footing and shouted'HODOR!\" in alarm before regaining his balance. The second time scared Bran badly. If Hodor fell into the lake with him in his basket, he could well drown, especially if the huge stableboy panicked and forgot that Bran was there, the way he did sometimes. Maybe we should have stayed at the inn, under the apple tree, he thought, but by then it was too late.\n\nThankfully there was no third time, and the water never got up past Hodor's waist, though the Reeds were in it up to their chests. And before long they were on the island, climbing the steps to the holdfast. The door was still stout, though its heavy oak planks had warped over the years and it could no longer be closed completely. Meera shoved it open all the way, the rusted iron hinges screaming. The lintel was low. \"Duck down, Hodor,\" Bran said, and he did, but not enough to keep Bran from hitting his head. \"That hurt,\" he complained.\n\n\"Hodor,\" said Hodor, straightening.\n\nThey found themselves in a gloomy strongroom, barely large enough to hold the four of them. Steps built into the inner wall of the tower curved away upward to their left, downward to their right, behind iron grates. Bran looked up and saw another grate just above his head. A murder hole. He was glad there was no one up there now to pour boiling oil down on them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The grates were locked, but the iron bars were red with rust. Hodor grabbed hold of the lefthand door and gave it a pull, grunting with effort. Nothing happened. He tried pushing with no more success. He shook the bars, kicked, shoved against them and rattled them and punched the hinges with a huge hand until the air was filled with flakes of rust, but the iron door would not budge. The one down to the undervault was no more accommodating. \"Noway in,\" said Meera, shrugging.\n\nThe murder hole was just above Bran's head, as he satin his basket on Hodor's back. He reached up and grabbed the bars to give them a try. When he pulled down the grating came out of the ceiling in a cascade of rust and crumbling stone. \"HODOR!\" Hodor shouted. The heavy iron grate gave Bran another bang in the head, and crashed down near Jojen's feet when he shoved it off of him. Meera laughed. \"Look at that, my prince,\" she said, \"you're stronger than Hodor.\" Bran blushed.\n\nWith the grate gone, Hodor was able to boost Meera and Jojen up through the gaping murder hole. The crannogmen took Bran by the arms and drew him up after them. Getting Hodor inside was the hard part. He was too heavy for the Reeds to lift the way they'd lifted Bran. Finally Bran told him to go look for some big rocks. The island had no lack of those, and Hodor was able to pile them high enough to grab the crumbling edges of the hole and climb through. \"Hodor,\" he panted happily, grinning at all of them.\n\nThey found themselves in amaze of small cells, dark and empty, but Meera explored until she found the way back to the steps. The higher they climbed, the better the light; on the third story the thick outer wall was pierced by arrow slits, the fourth had actual windows, and the fifth and highest was one big round chamber with arched doors on three sides opening onto small stone balconies. On the fourth side was a privy chamber perched above a sewer chute that dropped straight down into the lake."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "By the time they reached the roof the sky was completely overcast, and the clouds to the west were black."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wind was blowing so strong it lifted up Bran's cloak and made it flap and snap. \"Hodor,\" Hodor said at the noise.\n\nMeera spun in a circle. \"I feel almost a giant, standing high above the world.\"\n\n\"There are trees in the Neck that stand twice as tall as this,\" her brother reminded her.\n\n\"Aye, but they have other trees around them just as high,\" said Meera. \"The world presses close in the Neck, and the sky is so much smaller. Here... feel that wind, Brother? And look how large the world has grown.\"\n\nIt was true, you could see along ways from up here. To the south the foothills rose, with the mountains grey and green beyond them. The rolling plains of the New Gift stretched away to all the other directions, as far as the eye could see. \"I was hoping we could seethe Wall from here,\" said Bran, disappointed. \"That was stupid, we must still be fifty leagues away.\" Just speaking of it made him feel tired, and cold as well. \"Jojen, what will we do when we reach the Wall? My uncle always said how big it was. Seven hundred feet high, and so thick at the base that the gates are more like tunnels through the ice. How are we going to get past to find the three-eyed crow?\"\n\n\"There are abandoned castles along the Wall, I've heard,\" Jojen answered. \"Fortresses built by the Night's Watch but now left empty. One of them may give us our way through.\"\n\nThe ghost castles, Old Nan had called them. Maester Luwin had once made Bran learn the names of everyone of the forts along the Wall. That had been hard; there were nineteen of them all told, though no more than seventeen had ever been manned at anyone time. At the feast in honor of King Robert's visit to Winterfell, Bran had recited the names for his uncle Benjen, east to west and then west to east. Benjen Stark had laughed and said, \"You know them better than I do, Bran. Perhaps you should be First Ranger. I'll stay herein your place.\" That was before Bran fell, though. Before he was broken. By the time he'd woken crippled from his sleep, his uncle had gone back to Castle Black."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My uncle said the gates were sealed with ice and stone whenever a castle had to be abandoned,\" said Bran.\n\n\"Then we'll have to open them again,\" said Meera.\n\nThat made him uneasy. \"We shouldn't do that. Bad things might come through from the other side. We should just go to Castle Black and tell the Lord Commander to let us pass.\"\n\n\"Your Grace,\" said Jojen, \"we must avoid Castle Black, just as we avoided the kingsroad. There are hundreds of men there.\"\n\n\"Men of the Night's Watch,\" said Bran. \"They say vows, to take no part in wars and stuff.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Jojen, \"but one man willing to forswear himself would be enough to sell your secret to the ironmen or the Bastard of Bolton. And we cannot be certain that the Watch would agree to let us pass. They might decide to hold us or send us back.\"\n\n\"But my father was a friend of the Night's Watch, and my uncle is First Ranger. He might know where the three-eyed crow lives. And Jon's at Castle Black too.\" Bran had been hoping to see Jon again, and their uncle too. The last black brothers to visit Winterfell said that Benjen Stark had vanished on a ranging, but surely he would have made his way back by now. \"I bet the Watch would even give us horses,\" he went on.\n\n\"Quiet.\" Jojen shaded his eyes with a hand and gazed off toward the setting sun. \"Look. There's something... a rider, I think. Do you see him?\"\n\nBran shaded his eyes as well, and even so he had to squint. He saw nothing at first, till some movement made him turn. At first he thought it might be Summer, but no. A man on a horse. He was too faraway to see much else."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Hodor?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hodor had put a handover his eyes as well, only he was looking the wrong way. \"Hodor?\"\n\n\"He is in no haste,\" said Meera, \"but he's making for this village, it seems tome.\"\n\n\"We had best go inside, before we're seen,\" said Jojen.\n\n\"Summer's near the village,\" Bran objected.\n\n\"Summer will be fine,\" Meera promised. \"It's only one man on a tired horse.\"\n\nA few fat wet drops began to patter against the stone as they retreated to the floor below. That was well timed; the rain began to fall in earnest a short time later. Even through the thick walls they could hear it lashing against the surface of the lake. They sat on the floor in the round empty room, amidst gathering gloom. The north-facing balcony looked out toward the abandoned village. Meera crept out on her belly to peer across the lake and see what had become of the horseman. \"He's taken shelter in the ruins of the inn,\" she told them when she came back. \"It looks as though he's making afire in the hearth.\"\n\n\"I wish we could have afire,\" Bran said. \"I'm cold. There's broken furniture down the stairs, I saw it. We could have Hodor chop it up and get warm.\"\n\nHodor liked that idea. \"Hodor,\" he said hopefully.\n\nJojen shook his head. \"Fire means smoke. Smoke from this tower could be seen along way off.\"\n\n\"If there were anyone to see,\" his sister argued.\n\n\"There's a man in the village.\"\n\n\"One man.\"\n\n\"One man would be enough to betray Bran to his enemies, if he's the wrong man. We still have half a duck from yesterday. We should eat and rest. Come morning the man will goon his way, and we will do the same.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jojen had his way; he always did."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Meera divided the duck between the four of them. She'd caught it in her net the day before, as it tried to rise from the marsh where she'd surprised it. It wasn't as tasty cold as it had been hot and crisp from the spit, but at least they did not go hungry. Bran and Meera shared the breast while Jojen ate the thigh. Hodor devoured the wing and leg, muttering'Hodor\" and licking the grease off his fingers after every bite. It was Bran's turn to tell a story, so he told them about another Brandon Stark, the one called Brandon the Shipwright, who had sailed off beyond the Sunset Sea.\n\nDusk was settling by the time duck and tale were done, and the rain still fell. Bran wondered how far Summer had roamed and whether he had caught one of the deer.\n\nGrey gloom filled the tower, and slowly changed to darkness. Hodor grew restless and walked awhile, striding round and round the walls and stopping to peer into the privy on every circuit, as if he had forgotten what was in there. Jojen stood by the north balcony, hidden by the shadows, looking out at the night and the rain. Somewhere to the north a lightning bolt crackled across the sky, brightening the inside of the tower for an instant. Hodor jumped and made a frightened noise. Bran counted to eight, waiting for the thunder. When it came, Hodor shouted, \"Hodor!\"\n\nI hope Summer isn't scared too, Bran thought. The dogs in Winterfell's kennels had always been spooked by thunderstorms, just like Hodor. I should go see, to calm him...\n\nThe lightning flashed again, and this time the thunder came at six. \"Hodor!\" Hodor yelled again. \"HODOR! HODOR!\" He snatched up his sword, as if to fight the storm."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jojen said, \"Be quiet, Hodor. Bran, tell him not to shout. Can you get the sword away from him, Meera?\"\n\n\"I can try.\"\n\n\"Hodor, hush,\" said Bran. \"Be quiet now. No more stupid hodoring. Sit down.\"\n\n\"Hodor?\" He gave the longsword to Meera meekly enough, but his face was a mask of confusion.\n\nJojen turned back to the darkness, and they all heard him suck in his breath. \"What is it?\" Meera asked.\n\n\"Men in the village.\"\n\n\"The man we saw before?\"\n\n\"Other men. Armed. I saw an axe, and spears as well.\" Jojen had never sounded so much like the boy he was. \"I saw them when the lightning flashed, moving under the trees.\"\n\n\"How many?\"\n\n\"Many and more. Too many to count.\"\n\n\"Mounted?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Hodor.\" Hodor sounded frightened. \"Hodor. Hodor.\"\n\nBran felt a little scared himself, though he didn't want to say so in front of Meera. \"What if they come out here?\"\n\n\"They won't.\" She sat down beside him. \"Why should they?\"\n\n\"For shelter.\" Jojen's voice was grim. \"Unless the storm lets up. Meera, could you go down and bar the door?\"\n\n\"I couldn't even close it. The wood's too warped. They won't get past those iron gates, though.\"\n\n\"They might. They could break the lock, or the hinges. Or climb up through the murder hole as we did.\"\n\nLightning slashed the sky, and Hodor whimpered. Then a clap of thunder rolled across the lake. \"HODOR!\" he roared, clapping his hands over his ears and stumbling in a circle through the darkness. \"HODOR! HODOR! HODOR!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"NO!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bran shouted back. \"NO HODORING!\"\n\nIt did no good. \"HOOOODOR!\" moaned Hodor. Meera tried to catch him and calm him, but he was too strong. He flung her aside with no more than a shrug. \"HOOOOOODOOOOOOOR!\" the stableboy screamed as lightning filled the sky again, and even Jojen was shouting now, shouting at Bran and Meera to shut him up.\n\n\"Be quiet!\" Bran said in a shrill scared voice, reaching up uselessly for Hodor's leg as he crashed past, reaching, reaching.\n\nHodor staggered, and closed his mouth. He shook his head slowly from side to side, sank back to the floor, and sat crosslegged. When the thunder boomed, he scarcely seemed to hear it. The four of them satin the dark tower, scarce daring to breathe.\n\n\"Bran, what did you do?\" Meera whispered.\n\n\"Nothing.\" Bran shook his head. \"I don't know.\" But he did. I reached for him, the way I reach for Summer. He had been Hodor for half a heartbeat. It scared him.\n\n\"Something is happening across the lake,\" said Jojen. \"I thought I saw a man pointing at the tower.\"\n\nI won't be afraid. He was the Prince of Winterfell, Eddard Stark's son, almost a man grown and a warg too, not some little baby boy like Rickon. Summer would not be afraid. \"Most like they're just some Umbers,\" he said. \"Or they could be Knotts or Norreys or Flints comedown from the mountains, or even brothers from the Night's Watch. Were they wearing black cloaks, Jojen?\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 42"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"NO!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bran shouted back. \"NO HODORING!\"\n\nIt did no good. \"HOOOODOR!\" moaned Hodor. Meera tried to catch him and calm him, but he was too strong. He flung her aside with no more than a shrug. \"HOOOOOODOOOOOOOR!\" the stableboy screamed as lightning filled the sky again, and even Jojen was shouting now, shouting at Bran and Meera to shut him up.\n\n\"Be quiet!\" Bran said in a shrill scared voice, reaching up uselessly for Hodor's leg as he crashed past, reaching, reaching.\n\nHodor staggered, and closed his mouth. He shook his head slowly from side to side, sank back to the floor, and sat crosslegged. When the thunder boomed, he scarcely seemed to hear it. The four of them satin the dark tower, scarce daring to breathe.\n\n\"Bran, what did you do?\" Meera whispered.\n\n\"Nothing.\" Bran shook his head. \"I don't know.\" But he did. I reached for him, the way I reach for Summer. He had been Hodor for half a heartbeat. It scared him.\n\n\"Something is happening across the lake,\" said Jojen. \"I thought I saw a man pointing at the tower.\"\n\nI won't be afraid. He was the Prince of Winterfell, Eddard Stark's son, almost a man grown and a warg too, not some little baby boy like Rickon. Summer would not be afraid. \"Most like they're just some Umbers,\" he said. \"Or they could be Knotts or Norreys or Flints comedown from the mountains, or even brothers from the Night's Watch. Were they wearing black cloaks, Jojen?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"By night all cloaks are black, Your Grace. And the flash came and went too fast for me to tell what they were wearing.\"\n\nMeera was wary. \"If they were black brothers, they'd be mounted, wouldn't they?\"\n\nBran had thought of something else. \"It doesn't matter,\" he said confidently. \"They couldn't get out to us even if they wanted. Not unless they had a boat, or knew about the causeway.\"\n\n\"The causeway!\" Meera mussed Bran's hair and kissed him on the forehead. \"Our sweet prince! He's right, Jojen, they won't know about the causeway. Even if they did they could never find the way across at night in the rain.\"\n\n\"The night will end, though. If they stay till morning...\" Jojen left the rest unsaid. After a few moments he said, \"They are feeding the fire the first man started.\" Lightning crashed through the sky, and light filled the tower and etched them all in shadow. Hodor rocked back and forth, humming.\n\nBran could feel Summer's fear in that bright instant. He closed two eyes and opened a third, and his boy's skin slipped off him like a cloak as he left the tower behind...\n\n... and found himself out in the rain, his belly full of deer, cringing in the brush as the sky broke and boomed above him. The smell of rotten apples and wet leaves almost drowned the scent of man, but it was there. He heard the clink and slither of hardskin, saw men moving under the trees. A man with a stick blundered by, a skin pulled up over his head to make him blind and deaf. The wolf went wide around him, behind a dripping thornbush and beneath the bare branches of an apple tree. He could hear them talking, and there beneath the scents of rain and leaves and horse came the sharp red stench of fear..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JON\n\nThe ground was littered with pine needles and blown leaves, a carpet of green and brown still damp from the recent rains. It squished beneath their feet. Huge bare oaks, tall sentinels, and hosts of soldier pines stood all around them. On a hill above them was another roundtower, ancient and empty, thick green moss crawling up its side almost to the summit. \"Who built that, all of stone like that?\" Ygritte asked him. \"Some king?\"\n\n\"No. Just the men who used to live here.\"\n\n\"What happened to them?\"\n\n\"They died or went away.\" Brandon's Gift had been farmed for thousands of years, but as the Watch dwindled there were fewer hands to plow the fields, tend the bees, and plant the orchards, so the wild had reclaimed many afield and hall. In the New Gift there had been villages and holdfasts whose taxes, rendered in goods and labor, helped feed and clothe the black brothers. But those were largely gone as well.\n\n\"They were fools to leave such a castle,\" said Ygritte.\n\n\"It's only a towerhouse. Some little lordling lived there once, with his family and a few sworn men. When raiders came he would light a beacon from the roof. Winterfell has towers three times the size of that.\"\n\nShe looked as if she thought he was making that up. \"How could men build so high, with no giants to lift the stones?\"\n\nIn legend, Brandon the Builder had used giants to help raise Winterfell, but Jon did not want to confuse the issue. \"Men can build a lot higher than this. In Oldtown there's a tower taller than the Wall.\" He could tell she did not believe him. If I could show her Winterfell... give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The dream was sweet..."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "but Winterfell would never be his to show. It belonged to his brother, the King in the North. He was a Snow, not a Stark. Bastard, oathbreaker, and turncloak...\n\n\"Might be after we could comeback here, and live in that tower,\" she said. \"Would you want that, Jon Snow? After?\"\n\nAfter. The word was a spear thrust. After the war. After the conquest. After the wildlings break the Wall...\n\nHis lord father had once talked about raising new lords and settling them in the abandoned holdfasts as a shield against wildlings. The plan would have required the Watch to yield back a large part of the Gift, but his uncle Benjen believed the Lord Commander could be won around, so long as the new lordlings paid taxes to Castle Black rather than Winterfell. \"It is a dream for spring, though,\" Lord Eddard had said. \"Even the promise of land will not lure men north with a winter coming on.\"\n\nIf winter had come and gone more quickly and spring had followed in its turn, I might have been chosen to hold one of these towers in my father's name. Lord Eddard was dead, however, his brother Benjen lost; the shield they dreamt together would never be forged. \"This land belongs to the Watch,\" Jon said.\n\nHer nostrils flared. \"No one lives here.\"\n\n\"Your raiders drove them off.\"\n\n\"They were cowards, then. If they wanted the land they should have stayed and fought.\"\n\n\"Maybe they were tired of fighting. Tired of barring their doors every night and wondering if Rattleshirt or someone like him would break them down to carry off their wives. Tired of having their harvests stolen, and any valuables they might have. It's easier to move beyond the reach of raiders.\" But if the Wall should fail, all the north will lie within the reach of raiders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You know nothing, Jon Snow. Daughters are taken, not wives. You're the ones who steal. You took the whole world, and built the Wall t\" keep the free folk out.\"\n\n\"Did we?\" Sometimes Jon forgot how wild she was, and then she would remind him. \"How did that happen?\"\n\n\"The gods made the earth for all men t'share. Only when the kings come with their crowns and steel swords, they claimed it was all theirs. My trees, they said, you can't eat them apples. My stream, you can't fish here. My wood, you're not t'hunt. My earth, my water, my castle, my daughter, keep your hands away or I'll chop \"em off, but maybe if you kneel t\" me I'll let you have a sniff. You callus thieves, but at least a thief has t\" be brave and clever and quick. A kneeler only has t' kneel.\"\n\n\"Harma and the Bag of Bones don't come raiding for fish and apples. They steal swords and axes. Spices, silks, and furs. They grab every coin and ring and jeweled cup they can find, casks of wine in summer and casks of beef in winter, and they take women in any season and carry them off beyond the Wall.\"\n\n\"And what if they do? I'd sooner be stolen by a strongman than be given t\" some weakling by my father.\"\n\n\"You say that, but how can you know? What if you were stolen by someone you hated?\"\n\n\"He'd have t\" be quick and cunning and brave t' steal me. So his sons would be strong and smart as well. Why would I hate such a man as that?\"\n\n\"Maybe he never washes, so he smells as rank as a bear.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then I'd push him in a stream or throw a bucket o\" water on him. Anyhow, men shouldn't smell sweet like flowers.\"\n\n\"What's wrong with flowers?\"\n\n\"Nothing, fora bee. For bed I want one o' these.\" Ygritte made to grab the front of his breeches.\n\nJon caught her wrist. \"What if the man who stole you drank too much?\" he insisted. \"What if he was brutal or cruel?\" He tightened his grip to make a point. \"What if he was stronger than you, and liked to beat you bloody?\"\n\n\"I'd cut his throat while he slept. You know nothing, Jon Snow.\" Ygritte twisted like an eel and wrenched away from him.\n\nI know one thing. I know that you are wildling to the bone. It was easy to forget that sometimes, when they were laughing together, or kissing. But then one of them would say something, or do something, and he would suddenly be reminded of the wall between their worlds.\n\n\"A man can own a woman or a man can own a knife,\" Ygritte told him, \"but no man can own both. Every little girl learns that from her mother.\" She raised her chin defiantly and gave her thick red hair a shake. \"And men can't own the land no more'n they can own the sea or the sky. You kneelers think you do, but Mance is going t' show you different.\"\n\nIt was a fine brave boast, but it rang hollow. Jon glanced back to make certain the Magnar was not in earshot. Errok, Big Boil, and Hempen Dan were walking a few yards behind them, but paying no attention. Big Boil was complaining of his arse. \"Ygritte,\" he said in a low voice, \"Mance cannot win this war.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"He can!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "she insisted. \"You know nothing, Jon Snow. You have never seen the free folk fight!\"\n\nWildlings fought like heroes or demons, depending on who you talked to, but it came down to the same thing in the end. They fight with reckless courage, every man out for glory. \"I don't doubt that you're all very brave, but when it comes to battle, discipline beats valor every time. In the end Mance will fail as all the Kings-beyond-the-Wall have failed before him. And when he does, you'll die. All of you.\"\n\nYgritte had looked so angry he thought she was about to strike him. \"All of us,\" she said. \"You too. You're no crow now, Jon Snow. I swore you weren't, so you better not be.\" She pushed him back against the trunk of a tree and kissed him, full on the lips right therein the midst of the ragged column. Jon heard Grigg the Goat urging heron. Someone else laughed. He kissed her back despite all that. When they finally broke apart, Ygritte was flushed. \"You're mine,\" she whispered. \"Mine, as I'm yours. And if we die, we die. All men must die, Jon Snow. But first we'll live.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" His voice was thick. \"First we'll live.\"\n\nShe grinned at that, showing Jon the crooked teeth that he had somehow come to love. Wildling to the bone, he thought again, with a sick sad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand, and wondered what Ygritte would do if she knew his heart. Would she betray him if he sat her down and told her that he was still Ned Stark's son and a man of the Night's Watch? He hoped not, but he dare not take that risk. Too many lives depended on his somehow reaching Castle Black before the Magnar... assuming he found a chance to escape the wildlings."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had descended the south face of the Wall at Greyguard, abandoned for two hundred years. A section of the huge stone steps had collapsed a century before, but even so the descent was a good deal easier than the climb. From there Styr marched them deep into the Gift, to avoid the Watch's customary patrols. Grigg the Goat led them past the few inhabited villages that remained in these lands. Aside from a few scattered roundtowers poking the sky like stone fingers, they saw no sign of man. Through cold wet hills and windy plains they marched, unwatched, unseen.\n\nYou must not balk, whatever is asked of you, the Halfhand had said. Ride with them, eat with them, fight with them, for as long as it takes. He'd ridden many leagues and walked for more, had shared their bread and salt, and Ygritte's blankets as well, but still they did not trust him. Day and night the Thenns watched him, alert for any signs of betrayal. He could not getaway, and soon it would be too late.\n\nFight with them, Qhorin had said, before he surrendered his own life to Longclaw... but it had not come to that, till now. Once I shed a brother's blood I am lost. I cross the Wall for good then, and there is no crossing back.\n\nAfter each day's march the Magnar summoned him to ask shrewd sharp questions about Castle Black, its garrison and defenses. Jon lied where he dared and feigned ignorance a few times, but Grigg the Goat and Errok listened as well, and they knew enough to make Jon careful. Too blatant a lie would betray him.\n\nBut the truth was terrible. Castle Black had no defenses, but for the Wall itself. It lacked even wooden palisades or earthen dikes. The'castle\" was nothing more than a cluster of towers and keeps, two-thirds of them falling into ruin. As for the garrison, the Old Bear had taken two hundred on his ranging. Had any returned? Jon could not know. Perhaps four hundred remained at the castle, but most of those were builders or stewards, not rangers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Thenns were hardened warriors, and more disciplined than the common run of wildling; no doubt that was why Mance had chosen them. The defenders of Castle Black would include blind Maester Aemon and his half-blind steward Clydas, one-armed Donal Noye, drunken Septon Cellador, Deaf Dick Follard, Three-Finger Hobb the cook, old Ser Wynton Stout, as well as Halder and Toad and Pyp and Albett and the rest of the boys who'd trained with Jon. And commanding them would be red-faced Bowen Marsh, the plump Lord Steward who had been made castellan in Lord Mormont's absence. Dolorous Edd sometimes called Marsh'the Old Pomegranate,\" which fit him just as well as'the Old Bear\" fit Mormont. \"He's the man you want in front when the foes are in the field,\" Edd would say in his usual dour voice. \"He'll count them right up for you. A regular demon for counting, that one.\"\n\nIf the Magnar takes Castle Black unawares, it will be red slaughter, boys butchered in their beds before they know they are under attack. Jon had to warn them, but how? He was never sent out to forage or hunt, nor allowed to stand a watch alone. And he feared for Ygritte as well. He could not take her, but if he left her, would the Magnar make her answer for his treachery? Two hearts that beat as one...\n\nThey shared the same sleeping skins every night, and he went to sleep with her head against his chest and her red hair tickling his chin. The smell of her had become apart of him. Her crooked teeth, the feel of her breast when he cupped it in his hand, the taste of her mouth... they were his joy and his despair. Many a night he lay with Ygritte warm beside him, wondering if his lord father had felt this confused about his mother, whoever she had been. Ygritte set the trap and Mance Rayder pushed me into it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Everyday he spent among the wildlings made what he had to do that much harder. He was going to have to find someway to betray these men, and when he did they would die. He did not want their friendship, anymore than he wanted Ygritte's love. And yet... the Thenns spoke the Old Tongue and seldom talked to Jon at all, but it was different with Jarl's raiders, the men who'd climbed the Wall. Jon was coming to know them despite himself: gaunt, quiet Errok and gregarious Grigg the Goat, the boys Quort and Bodger, Hempen Dan the ropemaker. The worst of the lot was Del, a horsefaced youth near Jon's own age, who would talk dreamily of this wildling girl he meant to steal. \"She's lucky, like your Ygritte. She's kissed by fire.\"\n\nJon had to bite his tongue. He didn't want to know about Del's girl or Bodger's mother, the place by the sea that Henk the Helm came from, how Grigg yearned to visit the green men on the Isle of Faces, or the time a moose had chased Toefinger up a tree. He didn't want to hear about the boil on Big Boil's arse, how much ale Stone Thumbs could drink, or how Quort's little brother had begged him not to go with Jarl. Quort could not have been older than fourteen, though he'd already stolen himself a wife and had a child on the way. \"Might be he'll be born in some castle,\" the boy boasted. \"Born in a castle like a lord!\" He was very taken with the'castles\" they'd seen, by which he meant watchtowers.\n\nJon wondered where Ghost was now. Had he gone to Castle Black, or was he was running with some wolfpack in the woods? He had no sense of the direwolf, not even in his dreams. It made him feel as if part of himself had been cutoff. Even with Ygritte sleeping beside him, he felt alone. He did not want to die alone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "By that afternoon the trees had begun to thin, and they marched east over gently rolling plains."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Grass rose waist high around them, and stands of wild wheat swayed gently when the wind came gusting, but for the most part the day was warm and bright. Toward sunset, however, clouds began to threaten in the west. They soon engulfed the orange sun, and Lenn foretold a bad storm coming. His mother was a woods witch, so all the raiders agreed he had a gift for foretelling the weather. \"There's a village close,\" Grigg the Goat told the Magnar. \"Two miles, three. We could shelter there.\" Styr agreed at once.\n\nIt was well past dark and the storm was raging by the time they reached the place. The village sat beside a lake, and had been so long abandoned that most of the houses had collapsed. Even the small timber inn that must once have been a welcome sight for travelers stood half-fallen and roofless. We will find scant shelter here, Jon thought gloomily. Whenever the lightning flashed he could see a stone roundtower rising from an island out in the lake, but without boats they had noway to reach it.\n\nErrok and Del had crept ahead to scout the ruins, but Del was back almost at once. Styr halted the column and sent a dozen of his Thenns trotting forward, spears in hand. By then Jon had seen it too: the glimmer of afire, reddening the chimney of the inn. We are not alone. Dread coiled inside him like a snake. He heard a horse neigh, and then shouts. Ride with them, eat with them, fight with them, Qhorin had said.\n\nBut the fighting was done. \"There's only one of them,\" Errok said when he came back. \"An old man with a horse.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Magnar shouted commands in the Old Tongue and a score of his Thenns spread out to establish a perimeter around the village, whilst others went prowling through the houses to make certain no one else was hiding amongst the weeds and tumbled stones. The rest crowded into the roofless inn, jostling each other to get closer to the hearth. The broken branches the old man had been burning seemed to generate more smoke than heat, but any warmth was welcome on such a wild rainy night. Two of the Thenns had thrown the man to the ground and were going through his things. Another held his horse, while three more looted his saddlebags.\n\nJon walked away. A rotten apple squished beneath his heel. Styr will kill him. The Magnar had said as much at Greyguard; any kneelers they met were to be put to death at once, to make certain they could not raise the alarm. Ride with them, eat with them, fight with them. Did that mean he must stand mute and helpless while they slit an old man's throat?\n\nNear the edge of the village, Jon came face-to-face with one of the guards Styr had posted. The Thenn growled something in the Old Tongue and pointed his spear back toward the inn. Get back where you belong, Jon guessed. But where is that?\n\nHe walked towards the water, and discovered an almost dry spot beneath the leaning daub-and-wattle wall of a tumbledown cottage that had mostly tumbled down. That was where Ygritte found him sitting, staring off across the rain-whipped lake. \"I know this place,\" he told her when she sat beside him. \"That tower... look at the top of it the next time the lightning flashes, and tell me what you see.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye, if you like,\" she said, and then, \"Some o' the Thenns are saying they heard noises out there. Shouting, they say.\"\n\n\"Thunder.\"\n\n\"They say shouting. Might be it's ghosts.\"\n\nThe holdfast did have a grim haunted look, standing there black against the storm on its rocky island with the rain lashing at the lake all around it. \"We could go out and take a look,\" he suggested. \"I doubt we could get much wetter than we are.\"\n\n\"Swimming? In the storm?\" She laughed at the notion. \"Is this a trick t' get the clothes off me, Jon Snow?\"\n\n\"Do I need a trick for that now?\" he teased. \"Or is that you can't swim a stroke?\" Jon was a strong swimmer himself, having learned the art as a boy in Winterfell's great moat.\n\nYgritte punched his arm. \"You know nothing, Jon Snow. I'm half a fish, I'll have you know.\"\n\n\"Half fish, half goat, half horse... there's too many halves to you, Ygritte.\" He shook his head. \"We wouldn't need to swim, if this is the place I think. We could walk.\"\n\nShe pulled back and gave him a look. \"Walk on water? What southron sorcery is that?\"\n\n\"No sorc-\" he began, as a huge bolt of lightning stabbed down from the sky and touched the surface of the lake. For half a heartbeat the world was noonday bright. The clap of thunder was so loud that Ygritte gasped and covered her ears.\n\n\"Did you look?\" Jon asked, as the sound rolled away and the night turned black again. \"Did you see?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yellow,\" she said. \"Is that what you meant? Some o' them standing stones on top were yellow.\"\n\n\"We call them merlons. They were painted gold along time ago. This is Queenscrown.\"\n\nAcross the lake, the tower was black again, a dim shape dimly seen. \"A queen lived there?\" asked Ygritte.\n\n\"A queen stayed therefor a night.\" Old Nan had told him the story, but Maester Luwin had confirmed most of it. \"Alysanne, the wife of King Jaehaerys the Conciliator. He's called the Old King because he reigned so long, but he was young when he first came to the Iron Throne. In those days, it was his wont to travel allover the realm. When he came to Winterfell, he brought his queen, six dragons, and half his court. The king had matters to discuss with his Warden of the North, and Alysanne grew bored, so she mounted her dragon Silverwing and flew north to seethe Wall. This village was one of the places where she stopped. Afterward the smallfolk painted the top of their holdfast to look like the golden crown she'd worn when she spent the night among them.\"\n\n\"I have never seen a dragon.\"\n\n\"No one has. The last dragons died a hundred years ago or more. But this was before that.\"\n\n\"Queen Alysanne, you say?\"\n\n\"Good Queen Alysanne, they called her later. One of the castles on the Wall was named for her as well. Queensgate. Before her visit they called it Snowgate.\"\n\n\"If she was so good, she should have torn that Wall down.\"\n\nNo, he thought. The Wall protects the realm. From the Others... and from you and your kind as well, sweetling. \"I had another friend who dreamed of dragons. A dwarf. He told me-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"JON SNOW!\" One of the Thenns loomed above them, frowning. \"Magnar wants.\" Jon thought it might have been the same man who'd found him outside the cave, the night before they climbed the Wall, but he could not be sure. He got to his feet. Ygritte came with him, which always made Styr frown, but whenever he tried to dismiss her she would remind him that she was a free woman, not a kneeler. She came and went as she pleased.\n\nThey found the Magnar standing beneath the tree that grew through the floor of the common room. His captive knelt before the hearth, encircled by wooden spears and bronze swords. He watched Jon approach, but did not speak. The rain was running down the walls and pattering against the last few leaves that still clung to the tree, while smoke swirled thick from the fire.\n\n\"He must die,\" Styr the Magnar said. \"Do it, crow.\"\n\nThe old man said no word. He only looked at Jon, standing amongst the wildlings. Amidst the rain and smoke, lit only by the fire, he could not have seen that Jon was all in black, but for his sheepskin cloak. Or could he?\n\nJon drew Longclaw from its sheath. Rain washed the steel, and the firelight traced a sullen orange line along the edge. Such a small fire, to cost a man his life. He remembered what Qhorin Halfhand had said when they spied the fire in the Skirling Pass. Fire is life up here, he told them, but it can be death as well. That was high in the Frostfangs, though, in the lawless wild beyond the Wall. This was the Gift, protected by the Night's Watch and the power of Winterfell. A man should have been free to build afire here, without dying for it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why do you hesitate?\" Styr said. \"Kill him, and be done.\"\n\nEven then the captive did not speak. \"Mercy,\" he might have said, or'You have taken my horse, my coin, my food, let me keep my life,\" or'No, please, I have done you no harm.\" He might have said a thousand things, or wept, or called upon his gods. No words would save him now, though. Perhaps he knew that. So he held his tongue, and looked at Jon in accusation and appeal.\n\nYou must not balk, whatever is asked of you. Ride with them, eat with them, fight with them... But this old man had offered no resistance. He had been unlucky, that was all. Who he was, where he came from, where he meant to goon his sorry sway-backed horse... none of it mattered.\n\nHe is an old man, Jon told himself. Fifty, maybe even sixty. He lived a longer life than most. The Thenns will kill him anyway, nothing I can say or do will save him. Longclaw seemed heavier than lead in his hand, too heavy to lift. The man kept staring at him, with eyes as big and black as wells. I will fall into those eyes and drown. The Magnar was looking at him too, and he could almost taste the mistrust. The man is dead. What matter if it is my hand that slays him? One cut would do it, quick and clean. Longclaw was forged of Valyrian steel. Like Ice. Jon remembered another killing; the deserter on his knees, his head rolling, the brightness of blood on snow... his father's sword, his father's words, his father's face...\n\n\"Do it, Jon Snow,\" Ygritte urged. \"You must. T'prove you are no crow, but one o\" the free folk.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"An old man sitting by afire?\"\n\n\"Orell was sitting by afire too. You killed him quick enough.\" The look she gave him then was hard. \"You meant t' kill me too, till you saw I was a woman. And I was asleep.\"\n\n\"That was different. You were soldiers... sentries.\"\n\n\"Aye, and you crows didn't want t\" be seen. No more'n we do, now. It's just the same. Kill him.\"\n\nHe turned his back on the man. \"No.\"\n\nThe Magnar moved closer, tall, cold, and dangerous. \"I say yes. I command here.\"\n\n\"You command Thenns,\" Jon told him, \"not free folk.\"\n\n\"I see no free folk. I see a crow and a crow wife.\"\n\n\"I'm no crow wife!\" Ygritte snatched her knife from its sheath. Three quick strides, and she yanked the old man's head back by the hair and opened his throat from ear to ear. Even in death, the man did not cry out. \"You know nothing, Jon Snow!\" she shouted at him, and flung the bloody blade at his feet.\n\nThe Magnar said something in the Old Tongue. He might have been telling the Thenns to kill Jon where he stood, but he would never know the truth of that. Lightning crashed down from the sky, a searing blue-white bolt that touched the top of the tower in the lake. They could smell the fury of it, and when the thunder came it seemed to shake the night.\n\nAnd death leapt down amongst them.\n\nThe lightning flash left Jon night-blind, but he glimpsed the hurtling shadow half a heartbeat before he heard the shriek. The first Thenn died as the old man had, blood gushing from his torn throat. Then the light was gone and the shape was spinning away, snarling, and another man went down in the dark. There were curses, shouts, howls of pain. Jon saw Big Boil stumble backward and knockdown three men behind him. Ghost, he thought for one mad instant. Ghost leapt the Wall. Then the lightning turned the night today, and he saw the wolf standing on Del's chest, blood running black from his jaws. Grey. He's grey."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Darkness descended with the thunderclap. The Thenns were jabbing with their spears as the wolf darted between them. The old man's mare reared, maddened by the smell of slaughter, and lashed outwith her hooves. Longclaw was still in his hand. All at once Jon Snow knew he would never get a better chance.\n\nHe cut down the first man as he turned toward the wolf, shoved pasta second, slashed at a third. Through the madness he heard someone call his name, but whether it was Ygritte or the Magnar he could not say. The Thenn fighting to control the horse never saw him. Longclaw was feather-light. He swung at the back of the man's calf, and felt the steel bite down to the bone. When the wildling fell the mare bolted, but somehow Jon managed to grab her mane with his offhand and vault himself onto her back. A hand closed round his ankle, and he hacked down and saw Bodger's face dissolve in a welter of blood. The horse reared, lashing out. One hoof caught a Thenn in the temple, with a crunch.\n\nAnd then they were running. Jon made no effort to guide the horse. It was all he could do to stay on her as they plunged through mud and rain and thunder. Wet grass whipped at his face and a spear flew past his ear. If the horse stumbles and breaks a leg, they will run me down and kill me, he thought, but the old gods were with him and the horse did not stumble. Lightning shivered through the black dome of sky, and thunder rolled across the plains. The shouts dwindled and died behind him.\n\nLong hours later, the rain stopped. Jon found himself alone in a sea of tall black grass. There was a deep throbbing ache in his right thigh. When he looked down, he was surprised to see an arrow jutting out the back of it. When did that happen? He grabbed hold of the shaft and gave it a tug, but the arrowhead was sunk deep in the meat of his leg, and the pain when he pulled on it was excruciating. He tried to think back on the madness at the inn, but all he could remember was the beast, gaunt and grey and terrible. It was too large to be a common wolf. A direwolf, then. It had to be. He had never seen an animal move so fast. Like a grey wind... Could Robb have returned to the north?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jon shook his head."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had no answers. It was too hard to think... about the wolf, the old man, Ygritte, any of it...\n\nClumsily, he slid down off the mare's back. His wounded leg buckled under him, and he had to swallow a scream. This is going to be agony. The arrow had to come out, though, and nothing good could come of waiting. Jon curled his hand around the fletching, took a deep breath, and shoved the arrow forward. He grunted, then cursed. It hurt so much he had to stop. I am bleeding like a butchered pig, he thought, but there was nothing to be done for it until the arrow was out. He grimaced and tried again... and soon stopped again, trembling. Once more. This time he screamed, but when he was done the arrowhead was poking through the front of his thigh. Jon pushed back his bloody breeches to get a better grip, grimaced, and slowly drew the shaft through his leg. How he got through that without fainting he never knew.\n\nHe lay on the ground afterward, clutching his prize and bleeding quietly, too weak to move. After awhile, he realized that if he did not make himself move he was like to bleed to death. Jon crawled to the shallow stream where the mare was drinking, washed his thigh in the cold water, and bound it tight with a strip of cloth torn from his cloak. He washed the arrow too, turning it in his hands. Was the fletching grey, or white? Ygritte fletched her arrows with pale grey goose feathers. Did she loose a shaft at meas I fled? Jon could not blame her for that. He wondered if she'd been aiming for him or the horse. If the mare had gone down, he would have been doomed. \"A lucky thing my leg got in the way,\" he muttered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He rested fora while to let the horse graze."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She did not wander far. That was good. Hobbled with a bad leg, he could never have caught her. It was all he could do to force himself back to his feet and climb onto her back. How did I ever mount her before, without saddle or stirrups, and a sword in one hand? That was another question he could not answer.\n\nThunder rumbled softly in the distance, but above him the clouds were breaking up. Jon searched the sky until he found the Ice Dragon, then turned the mare north for the Wall and Castle Black. The throb of pain in his thigh muscle made him wince as he put his heels into the old man's horse. I am going home, he told himself. But if that was true, why did he feel so hollow?\n\nHe rode till dawn, while the stars stared down like eyes."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "DAENERYS\n\nHer Dothraki scouts had told her how it was, but Dany wanted to see for herself. Ser Jorah Mormont rode with her through a birchwood forest and up a slanting sandstone ridge. \"Near enough,\" he warned her at the crest.\n\nDany reined in her mare and looked across the fields, to where the Yunkish host lay athwart her path. Whitebeard had been teaching her how best to count the numbers of a foe. \"Five thousand,\" she said after a moment.\n\n\"I'd say so.\" Ser Jorah pointed. \"Those are sellswords on the flanks. Lances and mounted bowmen, with swords and axes for the close work. The Second Sons on the left wing, the Stormcrows to the right. About five hundred men apiece. Seethe banners?\"\n\nYunkai's harpy grasped a whip andiron collar in her talons instead of a length of chain. But the sellswords flew their own standards beneath those of the city they served: on the right four crows between crossed thunderbolts, on the left a broken sword. \"The Yunkai's hold the center themselves,\" Dany noted. Their officers looked indistinguishable from Astapor's at a distance; tall bright helms and cloaks sewn with flashing copper disks. \"Are those slave soldiers they lead?\"\n\n\"In large part. But not the equal of Unsullied. Yunkai is known for training bed slaves, not warriors.\"\n\n\"What say you? Can we defeat this army?\"\n\n\"Easily,\" Ser Jorah said.\n\n\"But not bloodlessly.\" Blood aplenty had soaked into the bricks of Astapor the day that city fell, though little of it belonged to her or hers. \"We might win a battle here, but at such cost we cannot take the city.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"That is ever a risk, Khaleesi."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Astapor was complacent and vulnerable. Yunkai is forewarned.\"\n\nDany considered. The slaver host seemed small compared to her own numbers, but the sellswords were ahorse. She'd ridden too long with Dothraki not to have a healthy respect for what mounted warriors could do to foot. The Unsullied could withstand their charge, but my freedmen will be slaughtered. \"The slavers like to talk,\" she said. \"Send word that I will hear them this evening in my tent. And invite the captains of the sellsword companies to call on meas well. But not together. The Stormcrows at midday, the Second Sons two hours later.\"\n\n\"As you wish,\" Ser Jorah said. \"But if they do not come-\"\n\n\"They'll come. They will be curious to seethe dragons and hear what I might have to say, and the clever ones will see it fora chance to gauge my strength.\" She wheeled her silver mare about. \"I'll await them in my pavilion.\"\n\nSlate skies and brisk winds saw Dany back to her host. The deep ditch that would encircle her camp was already half dug, and the woods were full of Unsullied lopping branches off birch trees to sharpen into stakes. The eunuchs could not sleep in an unfortified camp, or so Grey Worm insisted. He was there watching the work. Dany halted a moment to speak with him. \"Yunkai has girded up her loins for battle.\"\n\n\"This is good, Your Grace. These ones thirst for blood.\"\n\nWhen she had commanded the Unsullied to choose officers from amongst themselves, Grey Worm had been their overwhelming choice for the highest rank. Dany had put Ser Jorah over him to train him for command, and the exile knight said that so far the young eunuch was hard but fair, quick to learn, tireless, and utterly unrelenting in his attention to detail."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Wise Masters have assembled a slave army to meet us.\"\n\n\"A slave in Yunkai learns the way of seven sighs and the sixteen seats of pleasure, Your Grace. The Unsullied learn the way of the three spears. Your Grey Worm hopes to show you.\"\n\nOne of the first things Dany had done after the fall of Astapor was abolish the custom of giving the Unsullied new slave names everyday. Most of those born free had returned to their birth names; those who still remembered them, at least. Others had called themselves after heroes or gods, and sometimes weapons, gems, and even flowers, which resulted in soldiers with some very peculiar names, to Dany's ears. Grey Worm had remained Grey Worm. When she asked him why, he said, \"It is a lucky name. The name this one was born to was accursed. That was the name he had when he was taken fora slave. But Grey Worm is the name this one drew the day Daenerys Stormborn set him free.\"\n\n\"If battle is joined, let Grey Worm show wisdom as well as valor,\" Dany told him. \"Spare any slave who runs or throws down his weapon. The fewer slain, the more remain to join us after.\"\n\n\"This one will remember.\"\n\n\"I know he will. Beat my tent by midday. I want you therewith my other officers when I treat with the sellsword captains.\" Dany spurred her silver onto camp.\n\nWithin the perimeter the Unsullied had established, the tents were going up in orderly rows, with her own tall golden pavilion at the center. A second encampment lay close beyond her own; five times the size, sprawling and chaotic, this second camp had no ditches, no tents, no sentries, no horselines. Those who had horses or mules slept beside them, for fear they might be stolen. Goats, sheep, and half-starved dogs wandered freely amongst hordes of women, children, and old men. Dany had left Astapor in the hands of a council of former slaves led by a healer, a scholar, and a priest. Wise men all, she thought, and just. Yet even so, tens of thousands preferred to follow her to Yunkai, rather than remain behind in Astapor. I gave them the city, and most of them were too frightened to take it."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The raggle-taggle host of freedmen dwarfed her own, but they were more burden than benefit. Perhaps one in a hundred had a donkey, a camel, or an ox; most carried weapons looted from some slaver's armory, but only one in ten was strong enough to fight, and none was trained. They ate the land bare as they passed, like locusts in sandals. Yet Dany could not bring herself to abandon them as Ser Jorah and her bloodriders urged. I told them they were free. I cannot tell them now they are not free to join me. She gazed at the smoke rising from their cookfires and swallowed a sigh. She might have the best footsoldiers in the world, but she also had the worst.\n\nArstan Whitebeard stood outside the entrance of her tent, while Strong Belwas sat crosslegged on the grass nearby, eating a bowl of figs. On the march, the duty of guarding her fell upon their shoulders. She had made Jhogo, Aggo, and Rakharo her kos as well as her bloodriders, and just now she needed them more to command her Dothraki than to protect her person. Her khalasar was tiny, some thirty-odd mounted warriors, and most of them braidless boys and bentback old men. Yet they were all the horse she had, and she dared not go without them. The Unsullied might be the finest infantry in all the world, as Ser Jorah claimed, but she needed scouts and outriders as well.\n\n\"Yunkai will have war,\" Dany told Whitebeard inside the pavilion. Irri and Jhiqui had covered the floor with carpets while Missandei lit a stick of incense to sweeten the dusty air. Drogon and Rhaegal were asleep atop some cushions, curled about each other, but Viserion perched on the edge of her empty bath. \"Missandei, what language will these Yunkai'i speak, Valyrian?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, Your Grace,\" the child said. \"A different dialect than Astapor's, yet close enough to understand. The slavers name themselves the Wise Masters.\"\n\n\"Wise?\" Dany sat crosslegged on a cushion, and Viserion spread his white-and-gold wings and flapped to her side. \"We shall see how wise they are,\" she said as she scratched the dragon's scaly head behind the horns.\n\nSer Jorah Mormont returned an hour later, accompanied by three captains of the Stormcrows. They wore black feathers on their polished helms, and claimed to be all equal in honor and authority. Dany studied them as Irri and Jhiqui poured the wine. Prendahl na Ghezn was a thickset Ghiscari with abroad face and dark hair going grey; Sallor the Bald had a twisting scar across his pale Qartheen cheek; and Daario Naharis was flamboyant even fora Tyroshi. His beard was cut into three prongs and dyed blue, the same color as his eyes and the curly hair that fell to his collar. His pointed mustachios were painted gold. His clothes were all shades of yellow; a foam of Myrish lace the color of butter spilled from his collar and cuffs, his doublet was sewn with brass medallions in the shape of dandelions, and ornamental goldwork crawled up his high leather boots to his thighs. Gloves of soft yellow suede were tucked into a belt of gilded rings, and his fingernails were enameled blue.\n\nBut it was Prendahl na Ghezn who spoke for the sellswords. \"You would do well to take your rabble elsewhere,\" he said. \"You took Astapor by treachery, but Yunkai shall not fall so easily.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Five hundred of your Stormcrows against ten thousand of my Unsullied,\" said Dany. \"I am only a young girl and do not understand the ways of war, yet these odds seem poor tome.\"\n\n\"The Stormcrows do not standalone,\" said Prendahl.\n\n\"Stormcrows do not stand at all. They fly, at the first sign of thunder. Perhaps you should be flying now. I have heard that sellswords are notoriously unfaithful. What will it avail you to be staunch, when the Second Sons change sides?\"\n\n\"That will not happen,\" Prendahl insisted, unmoved. \"And if it did, it would not matter. The Second Sons are nothing. We fight beside the stalwart men of Yunkai.\"\n\n\"You fight beside bed-boys armed with spears.\" When she turned her head, the twin bells in her braid rang softly. \"Once battle is joined, do not think to ask for quarter. Join me now, however, and you shall keep the gold the Yunkai'i paid you and claim a share of the plunder besides, with greater rewards later when I come into my kingdom. Fight for the Wise Masters, and your wages will be death. Do you imagine that Yunkai will open its gates when my Unsullied are butchering you beneath the walls?\"\n\n\"Woman, you bray like an ass, and make no more sense.\"\n\n\"Woman?\" She chuckled. \"Is that meant to insult me? I would return the slap, if I took you fora man.\" Dany met his stare. \"I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, khaleesi to Drogo's riders, and queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What you are,\" said Prendahl na Ghezn, \"is a horselord's whore. When we break you, I will breed you to my stallion.\"\n\nStrong Belwas drew his arakh. \"Strong Belwas will give his ugly tongue to the little queen, if she likes.\"\n\n\"No, Belwas. I have given these men my safe conduct.\" She smiled. \"Tell me this-are the Stormcrows slave or free?\"\n\n\"We area brotherhood of freemen,\" Sallor declared.\n\n\"Good.\" Dany stood. \"Go back and tell your brothers what I said, then. It maybe that some of them would sooner sup on gold and glory than on death. I shall want your answer on the morrow.\"\n\nThe Stormcrow captains rose in unison. \"Our answer is no,\" said Prendahl na Ghezn. His fellows followed him out of the tent... but Daario Naharis glanced back as he left, and inclined his head in polite farewell.\n\nTwo hours later the commander of the Second Sons arrived alone. He proved to be a towering Braavosi with pale green eyes and a bushy red-gold beard that reached nearly to his belt. His name was Mero, but he called himself the Titan's Bastard.\n\nMero tossed down his wine straightaway, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and leered at Dany. \"I believe I fucked your twin sister in a pleasure house back home. Or was it you?\"\n\n\"I think not. I would remember a man of such magnificence, I have no doubt.\"\n\n\"Yes, that is so. No woman has ever forgotten the Titan's Bastard.\" The Braavosi held out his cup to Jhiqui. \"What say you take those clothes off and come sit on my lap? If you please me, I might bring the Second Sons over to your side.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If you bring the Second Sons over to my side, I might not have you gelded.\"\n\nThe big man laughed. \"Little girl, another woman once tried to geld me with her teeth. She has no teeth now, but my sword is as long and thick as ever. Shall I take it out and show you?\"\n\n\"No need. After my eunuchs cut it off, I can examine it at my leisure.\" Dany took a sip of wine. \"It is true that I am only a young girl, and do not know the ways of war. Explain tome how you propose to defeat ten thousand Unsullied with your five hundred. Innocent as I am, these odds seem poor tome.\"\n\n\"The Second Sons have faced worse odds and won.\"\n\n\"The Second Sons have faced worse odds and run. At Qohor, when the Three Thousand made their stand. Or do you deny it?\"\n\n\"That was many and more years ago, before the Second Sons were led by the Titan's Bastard.\"\n\n\"So it is from you they get their courage?\" Dany turned to Ser Jorah. \"When the battle is joined, kill this one first.\"\n\nThe exile knight smiled. \"Gladly, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" she said to Mero, \"you could run again. We will not stop you. Take your Yunkish gold and go.\"\n\n\"Had you ever seen the Titan of Braavos, foolish girl, you would know that it has no tail to turn.\"\n\n\"Then stay, and fight for me.\"\n\n\"You are worth fighting for, it is true,\" the Braavosi said, \"and I would gladly let you kiss my sword, if I were free. But I have taken Yunkai's coin and pledged my holy word.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Coins can be returned,\" she said. \"I will pay you as much and more. I have other cities to conquer, and a whole kingdom awaiting me half a world away. Serve me faithfully, and the Second Sons need never seek hire again.\"\n\nThe Braavosi tugged on his thick red beard. \"As much and more, and perhaps a kiss besides, eh? Or more than a kiss? Fora man as magnificent as me?\"\n\n\"Perhaps.\"\n\n\"I will like the taste of your tongue, I think.\"\n\nShe could sense Ser Jorah's anger. My black bear does not like this talk of kissing. \"Think on what I've said tonight. Can I have your answer on the morrow?\"\n\n\"You can.\" The Titan's Bastard grinned. \"Can I have a flagon of this fine wine to take back to my captains?\"\n\n\"You may have a tun. It is from the cellars of the Good Masters of Astapor, and I have wagons full of it.\"\n\n\"Then give me a wagon. A token of your good regard.\"\n\n\"You have a big thirst.\"\n\n\"I am big allover. And I have many brothers. The Titan's Bastard does not drink alone, Khaleesi.\"\n\n\"A wagon it is, if you promise to drink to my health.\"\n\n\"Done!\" he boomed. \"And done, and done! Three toasts we'll drink you, and bring you an answer when the sun comes up.\"\n\nBut when Mero was gone, Arstan Whitebeard said, \"That one has an evil reputation, even in Westeros. Do not be misled by his manner, Your Grace. He will drink three toasts to your health tonight, and rape you on the morrow.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The old man's right for once,\" Ser Jorah said. \"The Second Sons are an old company, and not without valor, but under Mero they've turned near as bad as the Brave Companions. The man is as dangerous to his employers as to his foes. That's why you find him out here. None of the Free Cities will hire him any longer.\"\n\n\"It is not his reputation that I want, it's his five hundred horse. What of the Stormcrows, is there any hope there?\"\n\n\"No,\" Ser Jorah said bluntly. \"That Prendahl is Ghiscari by blood. Likely he had kin in Astapor.\"\n\n\"A pity. Well, perhaps we will not need to fight. Let us wait and hear what the Yunkai'i have to say.\"\n\nThe envoys from Yunkai arrived as the sun was going down; fifty men on magnificent black horses and one on a great white camel. Their helms were twice as tall as their heads, so as not to crush the bizarre twists and towers and shapes of their oiled hair beneath. They dyed their linen skirts and tunics a deep yellow, and sewed copper disks to their cloaks.\n\nThe man on the white camel named himself Grazdan mo Eraz. Lean and hard, he had a white smile such as Kraznys had worn until Drogon burned off his face. His hair was drawn up in a unicorn's horn that jutted from his brow, and his tokar was fringed with golden Myrish lace. \"Ancient and glorious is Yunkai, the queen of cities,\" he said when Dany welcomed him to her tent. \"Our walls are strong, our nobles proud and fierce, our common folk without fear. Ours is the blood of ancient Ghis, whose empire was old when Valyria was yet a squalling child. You were wise to sit and speak, Khaleesi. You shall find no easy conquest here.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Good. My Unsullied will relish a bit of a fight.\" She looked to Grey Worm, who nodded.\n\nGrazdan shrugged expansively. \"If blood is what you wish, let it flow. I am told you have freed your eunuchs. Freedom means as much to an Unsullied as a hat to a haddock.\" He smiled at Grey Worm, but the eunuch might have been made of stone. \"Those who survive we shall enslave again, and use to retake Astapor from the rabble. We can make a slave of you as well, do not doubt it. There are pleasure houses in Lys and Tyrosh where men would pay handsomely to bed the last Targaryen.\"\n\n\"It is good to see you know who I am,\" said Dany mildly.\n\n\"I pride myself on my knowledge of the savage senseless west.\" Grazdan spread his hands, a gesture of conciliation. \"And yet, why should we speak thus harshly to one another? It is true that you committed savageries in Astapor, but we Yunkai'i area most forgiving people. Your quarrel is not with us, Your Grace. Why squander your strength against our mighty walls when you will need every man to regain your father's throne in far Westeros? Yunkai wishes you only well in that endeavor. And to prove the truth of that, I have brought you a gift.\" He clapped his hands, and two of his escort came forward bearing a heavy cedar chest bound in bronze and gold. They set it at her feet. \"Fifty thousand golden marks,\" Grazdan said smoothly. \"Yours, as a gesture of friendship from the Wise Masters of Yunkai. Gold given freely is better than plunder bought with blood, surely? So I say to you, Daenerys Targaryen, take this chest, and go.\""
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"value": "Dany pushed open the lid of the chest with a small slippered foot. It was full of gold coins, just as the envoy said. She grabbed a handful and let them run through her fingers. They shone brightly as they tumbled and fell; new minted, most of them, stamped with a stepped pyramid on one face and the harpy of Ghis on the other. \"Very pretty. I wonder how many chests like this I shall find when I take your city?\"\n\nHe chuckled. \"None, for that you shall never do.\"\n\n\"I have a gift for you as well.\" She slammed the chest shut. \"Three days. On the morning of the third day, send out your slaves. All of them. Every man, woman, and child shall be given a weapon, and as much food, clothing, coin, and goods as he or she can carry. These they shall be allowed to choose freely from among their masters' possessions, as payment for their years of servitude. When all the slaves have departed, you will open your gates and allow my Unsullied to enter and search your city, to make certain none remain in bondage. If you do this, Yunkai will not be burned or plundered, and none of your people shall be molested. The Wise Masters will have the peace they desire, and will have proved themselves wise indeed. What say you?\"\n\n\"I say, you are mad.\"\n\n\"Am I?\" Dany shrugged, and said, \"Dracarys.\"\n\nThe dragons answered. Rhaegal hissed and smoked, Viserion snapped, and Drogon spat swirling red-black flame. It touched the drape of Grazdan's tokar, and the silk caught in half a heartbeat. Golden marks spilled across the carpets as the envoy stumbled over the chest, shouting curses and beating at his arm until Whitebeard flung a flagon of water over him to douse the flames. \"You swore I should have safe conduct!\" the Yunkish envoy wailed."
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"value": "\"Do all the Yunkai'i whine so over a singed tokar? I shall buy you anew one... if you deliver up your slaves within three days. Elsewise, Drogon shall give you a warmer kiss.\" She wrinkled her nose. \"You've soiled yourself. Take your gold and go, and see that the Wise Masters hear my message.\"\n\nGrazdan mo Eraz pointed a finger. \"You shall rue this arrogance, whore. These little lizards will not keep you safe, I promise you. We will fill the air with arrows if they come within a league of Yunkai. Do you think it is so hard to kill a dragon?\"\n\n\"Harder than to kill a slaver. Three days, Grazdan. Tell them. By the end of the third day, I will be in Yunkai, whether you open your gates for me or no.\"\n\nFull dark had fallen by the time the Yunkai'i departed from her camp. It promised to be a gloomy night; moonless, starless, with a chill wet wind blowing from the west. A fine black night, thought Dany. The fires burned all around her, small orange stars strewn across hill and field. \"Ser Jorah,\" she said, \"summon my bloodriders.\" Dany seated herself on a mound of cushions to await them, her dragons all about her. When they were assembled, she said, \"An hour past midnight should be time enough.\"\n\n\"Yes, Khaleesi,\" said Rakharo. \"Time for what?\"\n\n\"To mount our attack.\"\n\nSer Jorah Mormont scowled. \"You told the sellswords-\"\n\n\"-that I wanted their answers on the morrow. I made no promises about tonight. The Stormcrows will be arguing about my offer. The Second Sons will be drunk on the wine I gave Mero. And the Yunkai'i believe they have three days. We will take them undercover of this darkness.\""
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"value": "\"They will have scouts watching for us.\"\n\n\"And in the dark, they will see hundreds of campfires burning,\" said Dany. \"If they see anything at all.\"\n\n\"Khaleesi,\" said Jhogo, \"I will deal with these scouts. They are no riders, only slavers on horses.\"\n\n\"Just so,\" she agreed. \"I think we should attack from three sides. Grey Worm, your Unsullied shall strike at them from right and left, while my kos lead my horse in wedge fora thrust through their center. Slave soldiers will never stand before mounted Dothraki.\" She smiled. \"To be sure, I am only a young girl and know little of war. What do you think, my lords?\"\n\n\"I think you are Rhaegar Targaryen's sister,\" Ser Jorah said with a rueful half smile.\n\n\"Aye,\" said Arstan Whitebeard, \"and a queen as well.\"\n\nIt took an hour to workout all the details. Now begins the most dangerous time, Dany thought as her captains departed to their commands. She could only pray that the gloom of the night would hide her preparations from the foe.\n\nNear midnight, she got a scare when Ser Jorah bulled his way past Strong Belwas. \"The Unsullied caught one of the sellswords trying to sneak into the camp.\"\n\n\"A spy?\" That frightened her. If they'd caught one, how many others might have gotten away?\n\n\"He claims to come bearing gifts. It's the yellow fool with the blue hair.\"\n\nDaario Naharis. \"That one. I'll hear him, then.\"\n\nWhen the exile knight delivered him, she asked herself whether two men had ever been so different. The Tyroshi was fair where Ser Jorah was swarthy; lithe where the knight was brawny; graced with flowing locks where the other was balding, yet smooth-skinned where Mormont was hairy. And her knight dressed plainly while this other made a peacock look drab, though he had thrown a heavy black cloak over his bright yellow finery for this visit. He carried a heavy canvas sack slung over one shoulder."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Khaleesi,\" he cried, \"I bring gifts and glad tidings."
},
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"value": "The Stormcrows are yours.\" A golden tooth gleamed in his mouth when he smiled. \"And so is Daario Naharis!\"\n\nDany was dubious. If this Tyroshi had come to spy, this declaration might be no more than a desperate plot to save his head. \"What do Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor say of this?\"\n\n\"Little.\" Daario upended the sack, and the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn spilled out upon her carpets. \"My gifts to the dragon queen.\"\n\nViserion sniffed the blood leaking from Prendahl's neck, and let loose a gout of flame that took the dead man full in the face, blackening and blistering his bloodless cheeks. Drogon and Rhaegal stirred at the smell of roasted meat.\n\n\"You did this?\" Dany asked queasily.\n\n\"None other.\" If her dragons discomfited Daario Naharis, he hid it well. For all the mind he paid them, they might have been three kittens playing with a mouse.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because you are so beautiful.\" His hands were large and strong, and there was something in his hard blue eyes and great curving nose that suggested the fierceness of some splendid bird of prey. \"Prendahl talked too much and said too little.\" His garb, rich as it was, had seen hard wear; salt stains patterned his boots, the enamel of his nails was chipped, his lace was soiled by sweat, and she could see where the end of his cloak was fraying. \"And Sallor picked his nose as if his snot was gold.\" He stood with his hands crossed at the wrists, his palms resting on the pommels of his blades; a curving Dothraki arakh on his left hip, a Myrish stiletto on his right. Their hilts were a matched pair of golden women, naked and wanton."
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"value": "\"Are you skilled in the use of those handsome blades?\" Dany asked him.\n\n\"Prendahl and Sallor would tell you so, if dead men could talk. I count no day as lived unless I have loved a woman, slain a foeman, and eaten a fine meal... and the days that I have lived areas numberless as the stars in the sky. I make of slaughter a thing of beauty, and many a tumbler and fire dancer has wept to the gods that they might behalf so quick, a quarter so graceful. I would tell you the names of all the men I have slain, but before I could finish your dragons would grow large as castles, the walls of Yunkai would crumble into yellow dust, and winter would come and go and come again.\"\n\nDany laughed. She liked the swagger she saw in this Daario Naharis. \"Draw your sword and swear it to my service.\"\n\nIna blink, Daario's arakh was free of its sheath. His submission was as outrageous as the rest of him, a great swoop that brought his face down to her toes. \"My sword is yours. My life is yours. My love is yours. My blood, my body, my songs, you own them all. I live and die at your command, fair queen.\"\n\n\"Then live,\" Dany said, \"and fight for me tonight.\"\n\n\"That would not be wise, my queen.\" Ser Jorah gave Daario a cold, hard stare. \"Keep this one hereunder guard until the battle's fought and won.\"\n\nShe considered a moment, then shook her head. \"If he can give us the Stormcrows, surprise is certain.\"\n\n\"And if he betrays you, surprise is lost.\"\n\nDany looked down at the sellsword again. He gave her such a smile that she flushed and turned away. \"He won't.\""
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"value": "\"How can you know that?\"\n\nShe pointed to the lumps of blackened flesh the dragons were consuming, bite by bloody bite. \"I would call that proof of his sincerity. Daario Naharis, have your Stormcrows ready to strike the Yunkish rear when my attack begins. Can you get back safely?\"\n\n\"If they stop me, I will say I have been scouting, and saw nothing.\" The Tyroshi rose to his feet, bowed, and swept out.\n\nSer Jorah Mormont lingered. \"Your Grace,\" he said, too bluntly, \"that was a mistake. We know nothing of this man-\"\n\n\"We know that he is a great fighter.\"\n\n\"A great talker, you mean.\"\n\n\"He brings us the Stormcrows.\" And he has blue eyes.\n\n\"Five hundred sellswords of uncertain loyalty.\"\n\n\"All loyalties are uncertain in such times as these,\" Dany reminded him. And I shall be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love.\n\n\"Daenerys, I am thrice your age,\" Ser Jorah said. \"I have seen how false men are. Very few are worthy of trust, and Daario Naharis is not one of them. Even his beard wears false colors.\"\n\nThat angered her. \"Whilst you have an honest beard, is that what you are telling me? You are the only man I should ever trust?\"\n\nHe stiffened. \"I did not say that.\"\n\n\"You say it everyday. Pyat Pree's a liar, Xaro's a schemer, Belwas a braggart, Arstan an assassin... do you think I'm still some virgin girl, that I cannot hear the words behind the words?\""
}
] |
[
{
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"value": "Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 44"
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "\"How can you know that?\"\n\nShe pointed to the lumps of blackened flesh the dragons were consuming, bite by bloody bite. \"I would call that proof of his sincerity. Daario Naharis, have your Stormcrows ready to strike the Yunkish rear when my attack begins. Can you get back safely?\"\n\n\"If they stop me, I will say I have been scouting, and saw nothing.\" The Tyroshi rose to his feet, bowed, and swept out.\n\nSer Jorah Mormont lingered. \"Your Grace,\" he said, too bluntly, \"that was a mistake. We know nothing of this man-\"\n\n\"We know that he is a great fighter.\"\n\n\"A great talker, you mean.\"\n\n\"He brings us the Stormcrows.\" And he has blue eyes.\n\n\"Five hundred sellswords of uncertain loyalty.\"\n\n\"All loyalties are uncertain in such times as these,\" Dany reminded him. And I shall be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love.\n\n\"Daenerys, I am thrice your age,\" Ser Jorah said. \"I have seen how false men are. Very few are worthy of trust, and Daario Naharis is not one of them. Even his beard wears false colors.\"\n\nThat angered her. \"Whilst you have an honest beard, is that what you are telling me? You are the only man I should ever trust?\"\n\nHe stiffened. \"I did not say that.\"\n\n\"You say it everyday. Pyat Pree's a liar, Xaro's a schemer, Belwas a braggart, Arstan an assassin... do you think I'm still some virgin girl, that I cannot hear the words behind the words?\""
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"value": "\"Your Grace-\"\n\nShe bulled over him. \"You have been a better friend tome than any I have known, a better brother than Viserys ever was. You are the first of my Queensguard, the commander of my army, my most valued counselor, my good right hand. I honor and respect and cherish you-but I do not desire you, Jorah Mormont, and I am weary of your trying to push every other man in the world away from me, so I must needs rely on you and you alone. It will not serve, and it will not make me love you any better.\"\n\nMormont had flushed red when she first began, but by the time Dany was done his face was pale again. He stood still as stone. \"If my queen commands,\" he said, curt and cold.\n\nDany was warm enough for both of them. \"She does,\" she said. \"She commands. Now go see to your Unsullied, ser. You have a battle to fight and win.\"\n\nWhen he was gone, Dany threw herself down on her pillows beside her dragons. She had not meant to be so sharp with Ser Jorah, but his endless suspicion had finally woken her dragon.\n\nHe will forgive me, she told herself. I am his liege. Dany found herself wondering whether he was right about Daario. She felt very lonely all of a sudden. Mirri Maz Duur had promised that she would never bear a living child. House Targaryen will end with me. That made her sad. \"You must be my children,\" she told the dragons, \"my three fierce children. Arstan says dragons live longer than men, so you will goon after I am dead.\"\n\nDrogon looped his neck around to nip at her hand. His teeth were very sharp, but he never broke her skin when they played like this. Dany laughed, and rolled him back and forth until he roared, his tail lashing like a whip. It is longer than it was, she saw, and tomorrow it will be longer still. They grow quickly now, and when they are grown I shall have my wings. Mounted on a dragon, she could lead her own men into battle, as she had in Astapor, but as yet they were still too small to bear her weight."
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"value": "A stillness settled over her camp when midnight came and went. Dany remained in her pavilion with her maids, while Arstan Whitebeard and Strong Belwas kept the guard. The waiting is the hardest part. To sit in her tent with idle hands while her battle was being fought without her made Dany feel half a child again.\n\nThe hours crept by on turtle feet. Even after Jhiqui rubbed the knots from her shoulders, Dany was too restless for sleep. Missandei offered to sing her a lullaby of the Peaceful People, but Dany shook her head. \"Bring me Arstan,\" she said.\n\nWhen the old man came, she was curled up inside her hrakkar pelt, whose musty smell still reminded her of Drogo. \"I cannot sleep when men are dying for me, Whitebeard,\" she said. \"Tell me more of my brother Rhaegar, if you would. I liked the tale you told me on the ship, of how he decided that he must be a warrior.\"\n\n\"Your Grace is kind to say so.\"\n\n\"Viserys said that our brother won many tourneys.\"\n\nArstan bowed his whitehead respectfully. \"It is not meet for me to deny His Grace's words...\"\n\n\"But?\" said Dany sharply. \"Tell me. I command it.\"\n\n\"Prince Rhaegar's prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He won some tourneys, surely,\" said Dany, disappointed.\n\n\"When he was young, His Grace rode brilliantly in a tourney at Storm's End, defeating Lord Steffon Baratheon, Lord Jason Mallister, the Red Viper of Dorne, and a mystery knight who proved to be the infamous Simon Toyne, chief of the kingswood outlaws. He broke twelve lances against Ser Arthur Dayne that day.\"\n\n\"Was he the champion, then?\"\n\n\"No, Your Grace. That honor went to another knight of the Kingsguard, who unhorsed Prince Rhaegar in the final tilt.\"\n\nDany did not want to hear about Rhaegar being unhorsed. \"But what tourneys did my brother win?\"\n\n\"Your Grace.\" The old man hesitated. \"He won the greatest tourney of them all.\"\n\n\"Which was that?\" Dany demanded.\n\n\"The tourney Lord Whent staged at Harrenhal beside the Gods Eye, in the year of the false spring. A notable event. Besides the jousting, there was a mêlée in the old style fought between seven teams of knights, as well as archery and axe-throwing, a horse race, a tournament of singers, a mummer show, and many feasts and frolics. Lord Whent was as openhanded as he was rich. The lavish purses he proclaimed drew hundreds of challengers. Even your royal father came to Harrenhal, when he had not left the Red Keep for long years. The greatest lords and mightiest champions of the Seven Kingdoms rode in that tourney, and the Prince of Dragonstone bested them all.\"\n\n\"But that was the tourney when he crowned Lyanna Stark as queen of love and beauty!\" said Dany. \"Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed. How could he do that? Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother's heart, Your Grace."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate.\"\n\nDany pulled the lion pelt tighter about her shoulders. \"Viserys said once that it was my fault, for being born too late.\" She had denied it hotly, she remembered, going so far as to tell Viserys that it was his fault for not being born a girl. He beat her cruelly for that insolence. \"If I had been born more timely, he said, Rhaegar would have married me instead of Elia, and it would all have come out different. If Rhaegar had been happy in his wife, he would not have needed the Stark girl.\"\n\n\"Perhaps so, Your Grace.\" Whitebeard paused a moment. \"But I am not certain it was in Rhaegar to be happy.\"\n\n\"You make him sound so sour,\" Dany protested.\n\n\"Not sour, no, but... there was a melancholy to Prince Rhaegar, a sense...\" The old man hesitated again.\n\n\"Say it,\" she urged. \"A sense...?\"\n\n\"... of doom. He was born in grief, my queen, and that shadow hungover him all his days.\"\n\nViserys had spoken of Rhaegar's birth only once. Perhaps the tale saddened him too much. \"It was the shadow of Summerhall that haunted him, was it not?\"\n\n\"Yes. And yet Summerhall was the place the prince loved best. He would go therefrom time to time, with only his harp for company. Even the knights of the Kingsguard did not attend him there. He liked to sleep in the ruined hall, beneath the moon and stars, and whenever he came back he would bring a song. When you heard him play his high harp with the silver strings and sing of twilights and tears and the death of kings, you could not but feel that he was singing of himself and those he loved.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What of the Usurper?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Did he play sad songs as well?\"\n\nArstan chuckled. \"Robert? Robert liked songs that made him laugh, the bawdier the better. He only sang when he was drunk, and then it was like to be \"A Cask of Ale\" or \"Fifty-Four Tuns\" or \"The Bear and the Maiden Fair.\" Robert was much-\"\n\nAs one, her dragons lifted their heads and roared.\n\n\"Horses!\" Dany leapt to her feet, clutching the lion pelt. Outside, she heard Strong Belwas bellow something, and then other voices, and the sounds of many horses. \"Irri, go see who...\"\n\nThe tent flap pushed open, and Ser Jorah Mormont entered. He was dusty, and spattered with blood, but otherwise none the worse for battle. The exile knight went to one knee before Dany and said, \"Your Grace, I bring you victory. The Stormcrows turned their cloaks, the slaves broke, and the Second Sons were too drunk to fight, just as you said. Two hundred dead, Yunkai'i for the most part. Their slaves threw down their spears and ran, and their sellswords yielded. We have several thousand captives.\"\n\n\"Our own losses?\"\n\n\"A dozen. If that many.\"\n\nOnly then did she allow herself to smile. \"Rise, my good brave bear. Was Grazdan taken? Or the Titan's Bastard?\"\n\n\"Grazdan went to Yunkai to deliver your terms.\" Ser Jorah got to his feet. \"Mero fled, once he realized the Stormcrows had turned. I have men hunting him. He shouldn't escape us long.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Dany said. \"Sellsword or slave, spare all those who will pledge me their faith. If enough of the Second Sons will join us, keep the company intact.\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The next day they marched the last three leagues to Yunkai. The city was built of yellow bricks instead of red; elsewise it was Astapor allover again, with the same crumbling walls and high stepped pyramids, and a great harpy mounted above its gates. The wall and towers swarmed with crossbowmen and slingers. Ser Jorah and Grey Worm deployed her men, Irri and Jhiqui raised her pavilion, and Dany sat down to wait.\n\nOn the morning of the third day, the city gates swung open and a line of slaves began to emerge. Dany mounted her silver to greet them. As they passed, little Missandei told them that they owed their freedom to Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros and Mother of Dragons.\n\n\"Mhysa!\" a brown-skinned man shouted out at her. He had a child on his shoulder, a little girl, and she screamed the same word in her thin voice. \"Mhysa! Mhysa!\"\n\nDany looked at Missandei. \"What are they shouting?\"\n\n\"It is Ghiscari, the old pure tongue. It means \"Mother.\"\"\n\nDany felt a lightness in her chest. I will never bear a living child, she remembered. Her hand trembled as she raised it. Perhaps she smiled. She must have, because the man grinned and shouted again, and others took up the cry. \"Mhysa!\" they called. \"Mhysa! MHYSA!\" They were all smiling at her, reaching for her, kneeling before her. \"Maela,\" some called her, while others cried'Aelalla\" or'Qathei\" or'Tato,\" but whatever the tongue it all meant the same thing. Mother. They are calling me Mother."
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The chant grew, spread, swelled. It swelled so loud that it frightened her horse, and the mare backed and shook her head and lashed her silver-grey tail. It swelled until it seemed to shake the yellow walls of Yunkai. More slaves were streaming from the gates every moment, and as they came they took up the call. They were running toward her now, pushing, stumbling, wanting to touch her hand, to stroke her horse's mane, to kiss her feet. Her poor bloodriders could not keep them all away, and even Strong Belwas grunted and growled in dismay.\n\nSer Jorah urged her to go, but Dany remembered a dream she had dreamed in the House of the Undying. \"They will not hurt me,\" she told him. \"They are my children, Jorah.\" She laughed, put her heels into her horse, and rode to them, the bells in her hair ringing sweet victory. She trotted, then cantered, then broke into a gallop, her braid streaming behind. The freed slaves parted before her. \"Mother,\" they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. \"Mother,\" they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. \"Mother, Mother, Mother!\""
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"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "ARYA\n\nWhen Arya saw the shape of a great hill looming in the distance, golden in the afternoon sun, she knew it at once. They had come all the way back to High Heart.\n\nBy sunset they were at the top, making camp where no harm could come to them. Arya walked around the circle of weirwood stumps with Lord Beric's squire Ned, and they stood on top of one watching the last light fade in the west. From up here she could see a storm raging to the north, but High Heart stood above the rain. It wasn't above the wind, though; the gusts were blowing so strongly that it felt like someone was behind her, yanking on her cloak. Only when she turned, no one was there.\n\nGhosts, she remembered. High Heart is haunted.\n\nThey built a great fire atop the hill, and Thoros of Myr sat crosslegged beside it, gazing deep into the flames as if there was nothing else in all the world.\n\n\"What is he doing?\" Arya asked Ned.\n\n\"Sometimes he sees things in the flames,\" the squire told her. \"The past. The future. Things happening faraway.\"\n\nArya squinted at the fire to see if she could see what the red priest was seeing, but it only made her eyes water and before long she turned away. Gendry was watching the red priest as well. \"Can you truly seethe future there?\" he asked suddenly.\n\nThoros turned from the fire, sighing. \"Not here. Not now. But some days, yes, the Lord of Light grants me visions.\"\n\nGendry looked dubious. \"My master said you were a sot and a fraud, as bad a priest as there ever was.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That was unkind.\" Thoros chuckled. \"True, but unkind. Who was this master of yours? Did I know you, boy?\"\n\n\"I was 'prenticed to the master armorer Tobho Mott, on the Street of Steel. You used to buy your swords from him.\"\n\n\"Just so. He charged me twice what they were worth, then scolded me for setting them afire.\" Thoros laughed. \" Your master had it right. I was no very holy priest. I was born youngest of eight, so my father gave me over to the Red Temple, but it was not the path I would have chosen. I prayed the prayers and I spoke the spells, but I would also lead raids on the kitchens, and from time to time they found girls in my bed. Such wicked girls, I never knew how they got there.\n\n\"I had a gift for tongues, though. And when I gazed into the flames, well, from time to time I saw things. Even so, I was more bother than I was worth, so they sent me finally to King's Landing to bring the Lord's light to seven-besotted Westeros. King Aerys so loved fire it was thought he might make a convert. Alas, his pyromancers knew better tricks than I did.\n\n\"King Robert was fond of me, though. The first time I rode into a mêlée with a flaming sword, Kevan Lannister's horse reared and threw him and His Grace laughed so hard I thought he might rupture.\" The red priest smiled at the memory. \"It was noway to treat a blade, though, your master had the right of that too.\"\n\n\"Fire consumes.\" Lord Beric stood behind them, and there was something in his voice that silenced Thoros at once. \"It consumes, and when it is done there is nothing left. Nothing.\""
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"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Beric. Sweet friend.\" The priest touched the lightning lord on the forearm. \"What are you saying?\"\n\n\"Nothing I have not said before. Six times, Thoros? Six times is too many.\" He turned away abruptly.\n\nThat night the wind was howling almost like a wolf and there were some real wolves off to the west giving it lessons. Notch, Anguy, and Merrit o'Moontown had the watch. Ned, Gendry, and many of the others were fast asleep when Arya spied the small pale shape creeping behind the horses, thin white hair flying wild as she leaned upon a gnarled cane. The woman could not have been more than three feet tall. The firelight made her eyes gleam as red as the eyes of Jon's wolf. He was a ghost too. Arya stole closer, and knelt to watch.\n\nThoros and Lem were with Lord Beric when the dwarf woman sat down uninvited by the fire. She squinted at them with eyes like hot coals. \"The Ember and the Lemon come to honor me again, and His Grace the Lord of Corpses.\"\n\n\"An ill-omened name. I have asked you not to use it.\"\n\n\"Aye, you have. But the stink of death is fresh on you, my lord.\" She had but a single tooth remaining. \"Give me wine or I will go. My bones are old. My joints ache when the winds do blow, and up here the winds are always blowing.\"\n\n\"A silver stag for your dreams, my lady,\" Lord Beric said, with solemn courtesy. \"Another if you have news for us.\"\n\n\"I cannot eat a silver stag, nor ride one. A skin of wine for my dreams, and for my news a kiss from the great oaf in the yellow cloak.\" The little woman cackled. \"Aye, a sloppy kiss, a bit of tongue. It has been too long, too long. His mouth will taste of lemons, and mine of bones. I am too old.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye,\" Lem complained. \"Too old for wine and kisses. All you'll get from me is the flat of my sword, crone.\"\n\n\"My hair comes out in handfuls and no one has kissed me fora thousand years. It is hard to be so old. Well, I will have a song then. A song from Tom o' Sevens, for my news.\"\n\n\"You will have your song from Tom,\" Lord Beric promised. He gave her the wineskin himself.\n\nThe dwarf woman drank deep, the wine running down her chin. When she lowered the skin, she wiped her mouth with the back of a wrinkled hand and said, \"Sour wine for sour tidings, what could be more fitting? The king is dead, is that sour enough for you?\"\n\nArya's heart caught in her throat.\n\n\"Which bloody king is dead, crone?\" Lem demanded.\n\n\"The wet one. The kraken king, m'lords. I dreamt him dead and he died, and the iron squids now turn on one another. Oh, and Lord Hoster Tully's died too, but you know that, don't you? In the hall of kings, the goat sits alone and fevered as the great dog descends on him.\" The old woman took another long gulp of wine, squeezing the skin as she raised it to her lips.\n\nThe great dog. Did she mean the Hound? Or maybe his brother, the Mountain That Rides? Arya was not certain. They bore the same arms, three black dogs on a yellow field. Half the men whose deaths she prayed for belonged to Ser Gregor Clegane; Polliver, Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling, the Tickler, and Ser Gregor himself. Maybe Lord Beric will hang them all."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I dreamt a wolf howling in the rain, but no one heard his grief,\" the dwarf woman was saying. \"I dreamt such a clangor I thought my head might burst, drums and horns and pipes and screams, but the saddest sound was the little bells. I dreamt of a maid at a feast with purple serpents in her hair, venom dripping from their fangs. And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow.\" She turned her head sharply and smiled through the gloom, right at Arya. \"You cannot hide from me, child. Come closer, now.\"\n\nCold fingers walked down Arya's neck. Fear cuts deeper than swords, she reminded herself. She stood and approached the fire warily, light on the balls of her feet, poised to flee.\n\nThe dwarf woman studied her with dim red eyes. \"I see you,\" she whispered. \"I see you, wolf child. Blood child. I thought it was the lord who smelled of death...\" She began to sob, her little body shaking. \"You are cruel to come to my hill, cruel. I gorged on grief at Summerhall, I need none of yours. Begone from here, dark heart. Begone!\"\n\nThere was such fear in her voice that Arya took a step backward, wondering if the woman was mad. \"Don't frighten the child,\" Thoros protested. \"There's no harm in her.\"\n\nLem Lemoncloak's finger went to his broken nose. \"Don't be so bloody sure of that.\"\n\n\"She will leave on the morrow, with us,\" Lord Beric assured the little woman. \"We're taking her to Riverrun, to her mother.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the dwarf. \"You're not. The black fish holds the rivers now. If it's the mother you want, seek her at the Twins. For there's to be a wedding.\" She cackled again. \"Look in your fires, pink priest, and you will see. Not now, though, not here, you'll see nothing here. This place belongs to the old gods still... they linger here as I do, shrunken and feeble but not yet dead. Nor do they love the flames. For the oak recalls the acorn, the acorn dreams the oak, the stump lives in them both. And they remember when the First Men came with fire in their fists.\" She drank the last of the wine in four long swallows, flung the skin aside, and pointed her stick at Lord Beric. \"I'll have my payment now. I'll have the song you promised me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And so Lem woke Tom Sevenstrings beneath his furs, and brought him yawning to the fireside with his woodharp in hand. \"The same song as before?\" he asked.\n\n\"Oh, aye. My Jenny's song. Is there another?\"\n\nAnd so he sang, and the dwarf woman closed her eyes and rocked slowly back and forth, murmuring the words and crying. Thoros took Arya firmly by the hand and drew her aside. \"Let her savor her song in peace,\" he said. \"It is all she has left.\"\n\nI wasn't going to hurt her, Arya thought. \"What did she mean about the Twins? My mother's at Riverrun, isn't she?\"\n\n\"She was.\" The red priest rubbed beneath his chin. \"A wedding, she said. We shall see. Wherever she is, Lord Beric will find her, though.\"\n\nNot long after, the sky opened. Lightning cracked and thunder rolled across the hills, and the rain fell in blinding sheets. The dwarf woman vanished as suddenly as she had appeared, while the outlaws gathered branches and threw up crude shelters.\n\nIt rained all through that night, and come morning Ned, Lem, and Watty the Miller awoke with chills. Watty could not keep his breakfast down, and young Ned was feverish and shivering by turns, with skin clammy to the touch. There was an abandoned village half a day's ride to the north, Notch told Lord Beric; they'd find better shelter there, a place to wait out the worst of the rains. So they dragged themselves back into the saddles and urged their horses down the great hill.\n\nThe rains did not letup. They rode through woods and fields, fording swollen streams where the rushing water came up to the bellies of their horses. Arya pulled up the hood of her cloak and hunched down, sodden and shivering but determined not to falter. Merrit and Mudge were soon coughing as bad as Watty, and poor Ned seemed to grow more miserable with every mile. \"When I wear my helm, the rain beats against the steel and gives me headaches,\" he complained. \"But when I take it off, my hair gets soaked and sticks to my face and in my mouth.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You have a knife,\" Gendry suggested. \"If your hair annoys you so much, shave your bloody head.\"\n\nHe doesn't like Ned. The squire seemed nice enough to Arya; maybe a little shy, but good-natured. She had always heard that Dornishmen were small and swarthy, with black hair and small black eyes, but Ned had big blue eyes, so dark that they looked almost purple. And his hair was a pale blond, more ash than honey.\n\n\"How long have you been Lord Beric's squire?\" she asked, to take his mind from his misery.\n\n\"He took me for his page when he espoused my aunt.\" He coughed. \"I was seven, but when I turned ten he raised me to squire. I won a prize once, riding at rings.\"\n\n\"I never learned the lance, but I could beat you with a sword,\" said Arya. \"Have you killed anyone?\"\n\nThat seemed to startle him. \"I'm only twelve.\"\n\nI killed a boy when I was eight, Arya almost said, but she thought she'd better not. \"You've been in battles, though.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" He did not sound very proud of it. \"I was at the Mummer's Ford. When Lord Beric fell into the river, I dragged him up onto the bank so he wouldn't drown and stood over him with my sword. I never had to fight, though. He had a broken lance sticking out of him, so no one bothered us. When we regrouped, Green Gergen helped pull his lordship back onto a horse.\"\n\nArya was remembering the stableboy at King's Landing. After him there'd been that guard whose throat she cut at Harrenhal, and Ser Amory's men at that holdfast by the lake. She didn't know if Weese and Chiswyck counted, or the ones who'd died on account of the weasel soup... all of a sudden, she felt very sad. \"My father was called Ned too,\" she said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I know."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I saw him at the Hand's tourney. I wanted to go up and speak with him, but I couldn't think what to say.\" Ned shivered beneath his cloak, a sodden length of pale purple. \"Were you at the tourney? I saw your sister there. Ser Loras Tyrell gave her arose.\"\n\n\"She told me.\" It all seemed so long ago. \"Her friend Jeyne Poole fell in love with your Lord Beric.\"\n\n\"He's promised to my aunt.\" Ned looked uncomfortable. \"That was before, though. Before he...\"\n\n... died? she thought, as Ned's voice trailed off into an awkward silence. Their horses\" hooves made sucking sounds as they pulled free of the mud.\n\n\"My lady?\" Ned said at last. \"You have a baseborn brother... Jon Snow?\"\n\n\"He's with the Night's Watch on the Wall.\" Maybe I should go to the Wall instead of Riverrun. Jon wouldn't care who I killed or whether I brushed my hair...\"Jon looks like me, even though he's bastard-born. He used to muss my hair and call me \"little sister.\"\" Arya missed Jon most of all. Just saying his name made her sad. \"How do you know about Jon?\"\n\n\"He is my milk brother.\"\n\n\"Brother?\" Arya did not understand. \"But you're from Dorne. How could you and Jon be blood?\"\n\n\"Milk brothers. Not blood. My lady mother had no milk when I was little, so Wylla had to nurse me.\"\n\nArya was lost. \"Who's Wylla?\"\n\n\"Jon Snow's mother. He never told you? She's served us for years and years. Since before I was born.\"\n\n\"Jon never knew his mother. Not even her name.\" Arya gave Ned a wary look. \"You know her? Truly?\" Is he making mock of me? \"If you lie I'll punch your face.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Wylla was my wetnurse,\" he repeated solemnly. \"I swear it on the honor of my House.\"\n\n\"You have a House?\" That was stupid; he was a squire, of course he had a House. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"My lady?\" Ned looked embarrassed. \"I'm Edric Dayne, the... the Lord of Starfall.\"\n\nBehind them, Gendry groaned. \"Lords and ladies,\" he proclaimed in a disgusted tone. Arya plucked a withered crabapple off a passing branch and whipped it at him, bouncing it off his thick bullhead. \"Ow,\" he said. \"That hurt.\" He felt the skin above his eye. \"What kind of lady throws crabapples at people?\"\n\n\"The bad kind,\" said Arya, suddenly contrite. She turned back to Ned. \"I'm sorry I didn't know who you were. My lord.\"\n\n\"The fault is mine, my lady.\" He was very polite.\n\nJon has a mother. Wylla, her name is Wylla. She would need to remember so she could tell him, the next time she saw him. She wondered if he would still call her'little sister.\" I'm not so little anymore. He'd have to call me something else. Maybe once she got to Riverrun she could write Jon a letter and tell him what Ned Dayne had said. \"There was an Arthur Dayne,\" she remembered. \"The one they called the Sword of the Morning.\"\n\n\"My father was Ser Arthur's elder brother. Lady Ashara was my aunt. I never knew her, though. She threw herself into the sea from atop the Palestone Sword before I was born.\"\n\n\"Why would she do that?\" said Arya, startled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ned looked wary. Maybe he was afraid that she was going to throw something at him. \"Your lord father never spoke of her?\" he said. \"The Lady Ashara Dayne, of Starfall?\"\n\n\"No. Did he know her?\"\n\n\"Before Robert was king. She met your father and his brothers at Harrenhal, during the year of the false spring.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Arya did not know what else to say. \"Why did she jump in the sea, though?\"\n\n\"Her heart was broken.\"\n\nSansa would have sighed and shed a tear for truelove, but Arya just thought it was stupid. She couldn't say that to Ned, though, not about his own aunt. \"Did someone break it?\"\n\nHe hesitated. \"Perhaps it's not my place...\"\n\n\"Tell me.\"\n\nHe looked at her uncomfortably. \"My aunt Allyria says Lady Ashara and your father fell in love at Harrenhal-\"\n\n\"That's not so. He loved my lady mother.\"\n\n\"I'm sure he did, my lady, but-\"\n\n\"She was the only one he loved.\"\n\n\"He must have found that bastard under a cabbage leaf, then,\" Gendry said behind them.\n\nArya wished she had another crabapple to bounce off his face. \"My father had honor,\" she said angrily. \"And we weren't talking to you anyway. Why don't you go back to Stoney Sept and ring that girl's stupid bells?\"\n\nGendry ignored that. \"At least your father raised his bastard, not like mine. I don't even know my father's name. Some smelly drunk, I'd wager, like the others my mother dragged home from the alehouse. Whenever she got mad at me, she'd say, \"If your father was here, he'd beat you bloody. \"That's all I know of him.\" He spat. \"Well, if he was here now, might be I'd beat him bloody. But he's dead, I figure, and your father's dead too, so what does it matter who he lay with?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It mattered to Arya, though she could not have said why. Ned was trying to apologize for upsetting her, but she did not want to hear it. She pressed her heels into her horse and left them both. Anguy the Archer was riding a few yards ahead. When she caught up with him, she said, \"Dornishmen lie, don't they?\"\n\n\"They're famous for it.\" The bowman grinned. \"Of course, they say the same of us marchers, so there you are. What's the trouble now? Ned's a good lad...\"\n\n\"He's just a stupid liar.\" Arya left the trail, leapt a rotten log and splashed across a streambed, ignoring the shouts of the outlaws behind her. They just want to tell me more lies. She thought about trying to getaway from them, but there were too many and they knew these lands too well. What was the use of running if they caught you?\n\nIt was Harwin who rode up beside her, in the end. \"Where do you think you're going, milady? You shouldn't runoff. There are wolves in these woods, and worse things.\"\n\n\"I'm not afraid,\" she said. \"That boy Ned said...\"\n\n\"Aye, he told me. Lady Ashara Dayne. It's an old tale, that one. I heard it once at Winterfell, when I was no older than you are now.\" He took hold of her bridle firmly and turned her horse around. \"I doubt there's any truth to it. But if there is, what of it? When Ned met this Dornish lady, his brother Brandon was still alive, and it was him betrothed to Lady Catelyn, so there's no stain on your father's honor. There's nought like a tourney to make the blood run hot, so maybe some words were whispered in a tent of a night, who can say? Words or kisses, maybe more, but where's the harm in that? Spring had come, or so they thought, and neither one of them was pledged.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She killed herself, though,\" said Arya uncertainly. \"Ned says she jumped from a tower into the sea.\"\n\n\"So she did,\" Harwin admitted, as he led her back, \"but that was for grief, I'd wager. She'd lost a brother, the Sword of the Morning.\" He shook his head. \"Let it lie, my lady. They're dead, all of them. Let it lie... and please, when we come to Riverrun, say naught of this to your mother.\"\n\nThe village was just where Notch had promised it would be. They took shelter in a grey stone stable. Only half a roof remained, but that was half a roof more than any other building in the village. It's not a village, it's only black stones and old bones. \"Did the Lannisters kill the people who lived here?\" Arya asked as she helped Anguy dry the horses.\n\n\"No.\" He pointed. \"Look at how thick the moss grows on the stones. No one's moved them fora longtime. And there's a tree growing out of the wall there, see? This place was put to the torch along time ago.\"\n\n\"Who did it, then?\" asked Gendry.\n\n\"Hoster Tully.\" Notch was a stooped thin grey-haired man, born in these parts. \"This was Lord Goodbrook's village. When Riverrun declared for Robert, Goodbrook stayed loyal to the king, so Lord Tully came down on him with fire and sword. After the Trident, Goodbrook's son made his peace with Robert and Lord Hoster, but that didn't help the dead none.\"\n\nA silence fell. Gendry gave Arya a queer look, then turned away to brush his horse. Outside the rain came down and down. \"I say we need afire,\" Thoros declared. \"The night is dark and full of terrors. And wet too, eh? Too very wet.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jack-Be-Lucky hacked some dry wood from a stall, while Notch and Merrit gathered straw for kindling."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Thoros himself struck the spark, and Lem fanned the flames with his big yellow cloak until they roared and swirled. Soon it grew almost hot inside the stable. Thoros sat before it crosslegged, devouring the flames with his eyes just as he had atop High Heart. Arya watched him closely, and once his lips moved, and she thought she heard him mutter, \"Riverrun.\" Lem paced back and forth, coughing, along shadow matching him stride for stride, while Tom o'Sevens pulled off his boots and rubbed his feet. \"I must be mad, to be going back to Riverrun,\" the singer complained. \"The Tullys have never been lucky for old Tom. It was that Lysa sent me up the highroad, when the moon men took my gold and my horse and all my clothes as well. There's knights in the Vale still telling how I came walking up to the Bloody Gate with only my harp to keep me modest. They made me sing \"The Name Day Boy\" and \"The King Without Courage\" before they opened that gate. My only solace was that three of them died laughing. I haven't been back to the Eyrie since, and I won't sing \"The King Without Courage\" either, not for all the gold in Casterly-\"\n\n\"Lannisters,\" Thoros said. \"Roaring red and gold.\" He lurched to his feet and went to Lord Beric. Lem and Tom wasted no time joining them. Arya could not make out what they were saying, but the singer kept glancing at her, and onetime Lem got so angry he pounded a fist against the wall. That was when Lord Beric gestured for her to come closer. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but Harwin put a hand in the small of her back and pushed her forward. She took two steps and hesitated, full of dread. \"My lord.\" She waited to hear what Lord Beric would say."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell her,\" the lightning lord commanded Thoros.\n\nThe red priest squatted down beside her. \"My lady,\" he said, \"the Lord granted me a view of Riverrun. An island in a sea of fire, it seemed. The flames were leaping lions with long crimson claws. And how they roared! A sea of Lannisters, my lady. Riverrun will soon come under attack.\"\n\nArya felt as though he'd punched her in the belly. \"No!\"\n\n\"Sweetling,\" said Thoros, \"the flames do not lie. Sometimes I read them wrongly, blind fool that I am. But not this time, I think. The Lannisters will soon have Riverrun under siege.\"\n\n\"Robb will beat them.\" Arya got a stubborn look. \"He'll beat them like he did before.\"\n\n\"Your brother maybe gone,\" said Thoros. \"Your mother as well. I did not see them in the flames. This wedding the old one spoke of, a wedding on the Twins... she has her own ways of knowing things, that one. The weirwoods whisper in her ear when she sleeps. If she says your mother is gone to the Twins...\"\n\nArya turned on Tom and Lem. \"If you hadn't caught me, I would have been there. I would have been home.\"\n\nLord Beric paid no heed to her outburst. \"My lady,\" he said with weary courtesy, \"would you know your grandfather's brother by sight? Ser Brynden Tully, called the Blackfish? Would he know you, perchance?\"\n\nArya shook her head miserably. She had heard her mother speak of Ser Brynden Blackfish, but if she had ever met him herself it had been when she was too little to remember."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Small chance the Blackfish will pay good coin fora girl he doesn't know,\" said Tom. \"Those Tullys area sour, suspicious lot, he's like to think we're selling him false goods.\"\n\n\"We'll convince him,\" Lem Lemoncloak insisted. \"She will, or Harwin. Riverrun is closest. I say we take her there, get the gold, and be bloody well done with her.\"\n\n\"And if the lions catch us inside the castle?\" said Tom. \"They'd like nothing better than to hang his lordship in a cage from the top of Casterly Rock.\"\n\n\"I do not mean to betaken,\" said Lord Beric. A final word hung unspoken in the air. Alive. They all heard it, even Arya, though it never passed his lips. \"Still, we dare not go blindly here. I want to know where the armies are, the wolves and lions both. Sharna will know something, and Lord Vance's maester will know more. Acorn Hall's not far. Lady Smallwood will shelter us fora time while we send scouts ahead to learn...\"\n\nHis words beat at her ears like the pounding of a drum, and suddenly it was more than Arya could stand. She wanted Riverrun, not Acorn Hall; she wanted her mother and her brother Robb, not Lady Smallwood or some uncle she never knew. Whirling, she broke for the door, and when Harwin tried to grab her arm she spun away from him quick as a snake.\n\nOutside the stables the rain was still falling, and distant lightning flashed in the west. Arya ran as fast as she could. She did not know where she was going, only that she wanted to be alone, away from all the voices, away from their hollow words and broken promises. All I wanted was to go to Riverrun. It washer own fault, for taking Gendry and Hot Pie with her when she left Harrenhal. She would have been better alone. If she had been alone, the outlaws would never have caught her, and she'd be with Robb and her mother by now. They were never my pack. If they had been, they wouldn't leave me. She splashed through a puddle of muddy water. Someone was shouting her name, Harwin probably, or Gendry, but the thunder drowned them out as it rolled across the hills, half a heartbeat behind the lightning. The lightning lord, she thought angrily. Maybe he couldn't die, but he could lie."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Somewhere off to her left a horse whinnied. Arya couldn't have gone more than fifty yards from the stables, yet already she was soaked to the bone. She ducked around the corner of one of the tumbledown houses, hoping the mossy walls would keep the rain off, and almost bowled right into one of the sentries. A mailed hand closed hard around her arm.\n\n\"You're hurting me,\" she said, twisting in his grasp. \"Let go, I was going to go back, I...\"\n\n\"Back?\" Sandor Clegane's laughter was iron scraping over stone. \"Bugger that, wolf girl. You're mine.\" He needed only one hand to yank her off her feet and drag her kicking toward his waiting horse. The cold rain lashed them both and washed away her shouts, and all that Arya could think of was the question he had asked her. Do you know what dogs do to wolves?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nThough his fever lingered stubbornly, the stump was healing clean, and Qyburn said his arm was no longer in danger. Jaime was anxious to begone, to put Harrenhal, the Bloody Mummers, and Brienne of Tarth all behind him. Areal woman waited for him in the Red Keep.\n\n\"I am sending Qyburn with you, to look after you on the way to King's Landing,\" Roose Bolton said on the morn of their departure. \"He has a fond hope that your father will force the Citadel to give him back his chain, ingratitude.\"\n\n\"We all have fond hopes. If he grows me back a hand, my father will make him Grand Maester.\"\n\nSteelshanks Walton commanded Jaime's escort; blunt, brusque, brutal, at heart a simple soldier. Jaime had served with his sort all his life. Men like Walton would kill at their lord's command, rape when their blood was up after battle, and plunder wherever they could, but once the war was done they would go back to their homes, trade their spears for hoes, wed their neighbors' daughters, and raise a pack of squalling children. Such men obeyed without question, but the deep malignant cruelty of the Brave Companions was not apart of their nature.\n\nBoth parties left Harrenhal the same morning, beneath a cold grey sky that promised rain. Ser Aenys Frey had marched three days before, striking northeast for the kingsroad. Bolton meant to follow him. \"The Trident is in flood,\" he told Jaime. \"Even at the ruby ford, the crossing will be difficult. You will give my warm regards to your father?\"\n\n\"So long as you give mine to Robb Stark.\"\n\n\"That I shall.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some Brave Companions had gathered in the yard to watch them leave. Jaime trotted over to where they stood. \"Zollo. How kind of you to see me off. Pyg. Timeon. Will you miss me? No last jest to share, Shagwell? To lighten my way down the road? And Rorge, did you come to kiss me goodbye?\"\n\n\"Bugger off, cripple,\" said Rorge.\n\n\"If you insist. Rest assured, though, I will be back. A Lannister always pays his debts.\" Jaime wheeled his horse around and rejoined Steelshanks Walton and his two hundred.\n\nLord Bolton had accoutred him as a knight, preferring to ignore the missing hand that made such warlike garb a travesty. Jaime rode with sword and dagger on his belt, shield and helm hung from his saddle, chainmail under a dark brown surcoat. He was not such a fool as to show the lion of Lannister on his arms, though, nor the plain white blazon that was his right as a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard. He found an old shield in the armory, battered and splintered, the chipped paint still showing most of the great black bat of House Lothston upon afield of silver and gold. The Lothstons held Harrenhal before the Whents and had been a powerful family in their day, but they had died outages ago, so no one was likely to object to him bearing their arms. He would be no one's cousin, no one's enemy, no one's sworn sword... in sum, no one.\n\nThey left through Harrenhal's smaller eastern gate, and took their leave of Roose Bolton and his host six miles farther on, turning south to follow along the lake road fora time. Walton meant to avoid the kingsroad as long as he could, preferring the farmer's tracks and game trails near the Gods Eye."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The kingsroad would be faster.\" Jaime was anxious to return to Cersei as quickly as he could. If they made haste, he might even arrive in time for Joffrey's wedding.\n\n\"I want no trouble,\" said Steelshanks. \"Gods know who we'd meet along that kingsroad.\"\n\n\"No one you need fear, surely? You have two hundred men.\"\n\n\"Aye. But others might have more. M'lord said to bring you safe to your lord father, and that's what I mean to do.\"\n\nI have come this way before, Jaime reflected a few miles further on, when they passed a deserted mill beside the lake. Weeds now grew where once the miller's daughter had smiled shyly at him, and the miller himself had shouted out, \"The tourney's back the other way, ser.\" As if I had not known.\n\nKing Aerys made a great show of Jaime's investiture. He said his vows before the king's pavilion, kneeling on the green grass in white armor while half the realm looked on. When Ser Gerold Hightower raised him up and put the white cloak about his shoulders, a roar went up that Jaime still remembered, all these years later. But that very night Aerys had turned sour, declaring that he had no need of seven Kingsguard here at Harrenhal. Jaime was commanded to return to King's Landing to guard the queen and little Prince Viserys, who'd remained behind. Even when the White Bull offered to take that duty himself, so Jaime might compete in Lord Whent's tourney, Aerys had refused. \"He'll win no glory here,\" the king had said. \"He's mine now, not Tywin's. He'll serve as I see fit. I am the king. I rule, and he'll obey.\""
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was the first time that Jaime understood. It was not his skill with sword and lance that had won him his white cloak, nor any feats of valor he'd performed against the Kingswood Brotherhood. Aerys had chosen him to spite his father, to rob Lord Tywin of his heir.\n\nEven now, all these years later, the thought was bitter. And that day, as he'd ridden south in his new white cloak to guard an empty castle, it had been almost too much to stomach. He would have ripped the cloak off then and there if he could have, but it was too late. He had said the words whilst half the realm looked on, and a Kingsguard served for life.\n\nQyburn fell in beside him. \"Is your hand troubling you?\"\n\n\"The lack of my hand is troubling me.\" The mornings were the hardest. In his dreams Jaime was a whole man, and each dawn he would lie half-awake and feel his fingers move. It was a nightmare, some part of him would whisper, refusing to believe even now, only a nightmare. But then he would open his eyes.\n\n\"I understand you had a visitor last night,\" said Qyburn. \"I trust that you enjoyed her?\"\n\nJaime gave him a cool look. \"She did not say who sent her.\"\n\nThe maester smiled modestly. \"Your fever was largely gone, and I thought you might enjoy a bit of exercise. Pia is quite skilled, would you not agree? And so... willing.\"\n\nShe had been that, certainly. She had slipped in his door and out of her clothes so quickly that Jaime had thought he was still dreaming.\n\nIt hadn't been until the woman slid in under his blankets and put his good hand on her breast that he roused. She was a pretty little thing, too. \"I was a slip of a girl when you came for Lord Whent's tourney and the king gave you your cloak,\" she confessed. \"You were so handsome all in white, and everyone said what a brave knight you were. Sometimes when I'm with some man, I close my eyes and pretend it's you on top of me, with your smooth skin and gold curls. I never truly thought I'd have you, though.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sending her away had not been easy after that, but Jaime had done it all the same. I have a woman, he reminded himself. \"Do you send girls to everyone you leech?\" he asked Qyburn.\n\n\"More often Lord Vargo sends them tome. He likes me to examine them, before... well, suffice it to say that once he loved unwisely, and he has no wish to do so again. But have no fear, Pia is quite healthy. As is your maid of Tarth.\"\n\nJaime gave him a sharp look. \"Brienne?\"\n\n\"Yes. A strong girl, that one. And her maidenhead is still intact. As of last night, at least.\" Qyburn gave a chuckle.\n\n\"He sent you to examine her?\"\n\n\"To be sure. He is... fastidious, shall we say?\"\n\n\"Does this concern the ransom?\" Jaime asked. \"Does her father require proof she is still maiden?\"\n\n\"You have not heard?\" Qyburn gave a shrug. \"We had a bird from Lord Selwyn. In answer to mine. The Evenstar offers three hundred dragons for his daughter's safe return. I had told Lord Vargo there were no sapphires on Tarth, but he will not listen. He is convinced the Evenstar intends to cheat him.\"\n\n\"Three hundred dragons is a fair ransom fora knight. The goat should take what he can get.\"\n\n\"The goat is Lord of Harrenhal, and the Lord of Harrenhal does not haggle.\"\n\nThe news irritated him, though he supposed he should have seen it coming. The lie spared you awhile, wench. Be grateful for that much. \"If her maidenhead's as hard as the rest of her, the goat will break his cock off trying to get in,\" he jested. Brienne was tough enough to survive a few rapes, Jaime judged, though if she resisted too vigorously Vargo Hoat might start lopping off her hands and feet. And if he does, why should I care? I might still have a hand if she had let me have my cousin's sword without getting stupid. He had almost taken off her leg himself with that first stroke of his, but after that she had given him more than he wanted. Hoat may not know how freakish strong she is. He had best be careful, or she'll snap that skinny neck of his, and wouldn't that be sweet?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Qyburn's companionship was wearing on him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jaime trotted toward the head of the column. Around little tick of a northman name of Nage went before Steelshanks with the peace banner; a rainbow-striped flag with seven long tails, on a staff topped by a seven-pointed star. \"Shouldn't you northmen have a different sort of peace banner?\" he asked Walton. \"What are the Seven to you?\"\n\n\"Southern gods,\" the man said, \"but it's a southron peace we need, to get you safe to your father.\"\n\nMy father. Jaime wondered whether Lord Tywin had received the goat's demand for ransom, with or without his rotted hand. What is a swordsman worth without his sword hand? Half the gold in Casterly Rock? Three hundred dragons? Or nothing? His father had never been unduly swayed by sentiment. Tywin Lannister's own father Lord Tytos had once imprisoned an unruly bannerman, Lord Tarbeck. The redoubtable Lady Tarbeck responded by capturing three Lannisters, including young Stafford, whose sister was betrothed to cousin Tywin. \"Send back my lord and love, or these three shall answer for any harm that comes him,\" she had written to Casterly Rock. Young Tywin suggested his father oblige by sending back Lord Tarbeck in three pieces. Lord Tytos was a gentler sort of lion, however, so Lady Tarbeck won a few more years for her muttonheaded lord, and Stafford wed and bred and blundered on till Oxcross. But Tywin Lannister endured, eternal as Casterly Rock. And now you have a cripple fora son as well as a dwarf, my lord. How you will hate that...\n\nThe road led them through a burned village. It must have been a year or more since the place had been put to torch. The hovels stood blackened and roofless, but weeds were growing waist high in all the surrounding fields. Steelshanks called a halt to allow them to water the horses. I know this place too, Jaime thought as he waited by the well. There had been a small inn where only a few foundation stones and a chimney now stood, and he had gone in fora cup of ale. A dark-eyed serving wench brought him cheese and apples, but the innkeep had refused his coin. \"It's an honor to have a knight of the Kingsguard under my roof, ser,\" the man had said. \"It's a tale I'll tell my grandchildren.\" Jaime looked at the chimney poking out of the weeds and wondered whether he had ever gotten those grandchildren. Did he tell them the Kingslayer once drank his ale and ate his cheese and apples, or was he ashamed to admit he fed the likes of me? Not that he would ever know; whoever burned the inn had likely killed the grandchildren as well."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could feel his phantom fingers clench. When Steelshanks said that perhaps they should have afire and a bit of food, Jaime shook his head. \"I mislike this place. We'll ride on.\"\n\nBy evenfall they had left the lake to follow a rutted track through a wood of oak and elm. Jaime's stump was throbbing dully when Steelshanks decided to make camp. Qyburn had brought a skin of dreamwine, thankfully. While Walton set the watches, Jaime stretched out near the fire and propped a rolled-up bearskin against a stump as a pillow for his head. The wench would have told him he had to eat before he slept, to keep his strength up, but he was more tired than hungry. He closed his eyes, and hoped to dream of Cersei. The fever dreams were all so vivid...\n\nNaked and alone he stood, surrounded by enemies, with stonewalls all around him pressing close. The Rock, he knew. He could feel the immense weight of it above his head. He was home. He was home and whole.\n\nHe held his right hand up and flexed his fingers to feel the strength in them. It felt as good as sex. As good as swordplay. Four fingers and a thumb. He had dreamed that he was maimed, but it wasn't so. Relief made him dizzy. My hand, my good hand. Nothing could hurt him so long as he was whole.\n\nAround him stood a dozen tall dark figures in cowled robes that hid their faces. In their hands were spears. \"Who are you?\" he demanded of them. \"What business do you have in Casterly Rock?\"\n\nThey gave no answer, only prodded him with the points of their spears. He had no choice but to descend. Down a twisting passageway he went, narrow steps carved from the living rock, down and down. I must go up, he told himself. Up, not down. Why am I going down? Below the earth his doom awaited, he knew with the certainty of dream; something dark and terrible lurked there, something that wanted him. Jaime tried to halt, but their spears prodded him on. If only I had my sword, nothing could harm me."
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"value": "The steps ended abruptly on echoing darkness. Jaime had the sense of vast space before him. He jerked to a halt, teetering on the edge of nothingness. A spearpoint jabbed at the small of the back, shoving him into the abyss. He shouted, but the fall was short. He landed on his hands and knees, upon soft sand and shallow water. There were watery caverns deep below Casterly Rock, but this one was strange to him. \"What place is this?\"\n\n\"Your place.\" The voice echoed; it was a hundred voices, a thousand, the voices of all the Lannisters since Lann the Clever, who'd lived at the dawn of days. But most of all it was his father's voice, and beside Lord Tywin stood his sister, pale and beautiful, a torch burning in her hand. Joffrey was there as well, the son they'd made together, and behind them a dozen more dark shapes with golden hair.\n\n\"Sister, why has Father brought us here?\"\n\n\"Us? This is your place, Brother. This is your darkness.\" Her torch was the only light in the cavern. Her torch was the only light in the world. She turned to go.\n\n\"Stay with me,\" Jaime pleaded. \"Don't leave me here alone.\" But they were leaving. \"Don't leave me in the dark!\" Something terrible lived down here. \"Give me a sword, at least.\"\n\n\"I gave you a sword,\" Lord Tywin said.\n\nIt was at his feet. Jaime groped under the water until his hand closed upon the hilt. Nothing can hurt me so long as I have a sword. Ashe raised the sword a finger of pale flame flickered at the point and crept up along the edge, stopping a hand's breath from the hilt. The fire took on the color of the steel itself so it burned with a silvery-blue light, and the gloom pulled back. Crouching, listening, Jaime moved in a circle, ready for anything that might come out of the darkness. The water flowed into his boots, ankle deep and bitterly cold. Beware the water, he told himself. There maybe creatures living in it, hidden deeps..."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "From behind came a great splash. Jaime whirled toward the sound... but the faint light revealed only Brienne of Tarth, her hands bound in heavy chains. \"I swore to keep you safe,\" the wench said stubbornly. \"I swore an oath.\" Naked, she raised her hands to Jaime. \"Ser. Please. If you would be so good.\"\n\nThe steel links parted like silk. \"A sword,\" Brienne begged, and there it was, scabbard, belt, and all. She buckled it around her thick waist. The light was so dim that Jaime could scarcely see her, though they stood a scant few feet apart. In this light she could almost be a beauty, he thought. In this light she could almost be a knight. Brienne's sword took flame as well, burning silvery blue. The darkness retreated a little more.\n\n\"The flames will burn so long as you live,\" he heard Cersei call. \"When they die, so must you.\"\n\n\"Sister!\" he shouted. \"Stay with me. Stay!\" There was no reply but the soft sound of retreating footsteps.\n\nBrienne moved her longsword back and forth, watching the silvery flames shift and shimmer. Beneath her feet, a reflection of the burning blade shone on the surface of the flat black water. She was as tall and strong as he remembered, yet it seemed to Jaime that she had more of a woman's shape now.\n\n\"Do they keep a bear down here?\" Brienne was moving, slow and wary, sword to hand; step, turn, and listen. Each step made a little splash. \"A cave lion? Direwolves? Some bear? Tell me, Jaime. What lives here? What lives in the darkness?\"\n\n\"Doom.\" No bear, he knew. No lion. \"Only doom.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the cool silvery-blue light of the swords, the big wench looked pale and fierce. \"I mislike this place.\"\n\n\"I'm not fond of it myself.\" Their blades made a little island of light, but all around them stretched a sea of darkness, unending. \"My feet are wet.\"\n\n\"We could go back the way they brought us. If you climbed on my shoulders you'd have no trouble reaching that tunnel mouth.\"\n\nThen I could follow Cersei. He could feel himself growing hard at the thought, and turned away so Brienne would not see.\n\n\"Listen.\" She put a hand on his shoulder, and he trembled at the sudden touch. She's warm. \"Something comes.\" Brienne lifted her sword to point off to his left. \"There.\"\n\nHe peered into the gloom until he saw it too. Something was moving through the darkness, he could not quite make it out...\n\n\"A man on a horse. No, two. Two riders, side by side.\"\n\n\"Down here, beneath the Rock?\" It made no sense. Yet there came two riders on pale horses, men and mounts both armored. The destriers emerged from the blackness at a slow walk. They make no sound, Jaime realized. No splashing, no clink of mail nor clop of hoof. He remembered Eddard Stark, riding the length of Aerys's throne room wrapped in silence. Only his eyes had spoken; a lord's eyes, cold and grey and full of judgment.\n\n\"Is it you, Stark?\" Jaime called. \"Come ahead. I never feared you living, I do not fear you dead.\"\n\nBrienne touched his arm. \"There are more.\"\n\nHe saw them too. They were armored all in snow, it seemed to him, and ribbons of mist swirled back from their shoulders. The visors of their helms were closed, but Jaime Lannister did not need to look upon their faces to know them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Five had been his brothers. Oswell Whent and Jon Darry. Lewyn Martell, a prince of Dorne. The White Bull, Gerold Hightower. Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning. And beside them, crowned in mist and grief with his longhair streaming behind him, rode Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and rightful heir to the Iron Throne.\n\n\"You don't frighten me,\" he called, turning as they split to either side of him. He did not know which way to face. \"I will fight you one by one or all together. But who is therefor the wench to duel? She gets cross when you leave her out.\"\n\n\"I swore an oath to keep him safe,\" she said to Rhaegar's shade. \"I swore a holy oath.\"\n\n\"We all swore oaths,\" said Ser Arthur Dayne, so sadly.\n\nThe shades dismounted from their ghostly horses. When they drew their longswords, it made not a sound. \"He was going to burn the city,\" Jaime said. \"To leave Robert only ashes.\"\n\n\"He was your king,\" said Darry.\n\n\"You swore to keep him safe,\" said Whent.\n\n\"And the children, them as well,\" said Prince Lewyn.\n\nPrince Rhaegar burned with a cold light, now white, now red, now dark. \"I left my wife and children in your hands.\"\n\n\"I never thought he'd hurt them.\" Jaime's sword was burning less brightly now. \"I was with the king...\"\n\n\"Killing the king,\" said Ser Arthur.\n\n\"Cutting his throat,\" said Prince Lewyn.\n\n\"The king you had sworn to die for,\" said the White Bull."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The fires that ran along the blade were guttering out, and Jaime remembered what Cersei had said. No. Terror closed a hand about his throat. Then his sword went dark, and only Brienne's burned, as the ghosts came rushing in.\n\n\"No,\" he said, \"no, no, no. Nooooooooo!\"\n\nHeart pounding, he jerked awake, and found himself in starry darkness amidst a grove of trees. He could taste bile in his mouth, and he was shivering with sweat, hot and cold at once. When he looked down for his sword hand, his wrist ended in leather and linen, wrapped snug around an ugly stump. He felt sudden tears well up in his eyes. I felt it, I felt the strength in my fingers, and the rough leather of the sword's grip. My hand...\n\n\"My lord.\" Qyburn knelt beside him, his fatherly face all crinkly with concern. \"What is it? I heard you cry out.\"\n\nSteelshanks Walton stood above them, tall and dour. \"What is it? Why did you scream?\"\n\n\"A dream... only a dream.\" Jaime stared at the camp around him, lost fora moment. \"I was in the dark, but I had my hand back.\" He looked at the stump and felt sick allover again. There's no place like that beneath the Rock, he thought. His stomach was sour and empty, and his head was pounding where he'd pillowed it against the stump.\n\nQyburn felt his brow. \"You still have a touch of fever.\"\n\n\"A fever dream.\" Jaime reached up. \"Help me.\" Steelshanks took him by his good hand and pulled him to his feet.\n\n\"Another cup of dreamwine?\" asked Qyburn."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Work to move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 46"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The fires that ran along the blade were guttering out, and Jaime remembered what Cersei had said. No. Terror closed a hand about his throat. Then his sword went dark, and only Brienne's burned, as the ghosts came rushing in.\n\n\"No,\" he said, \"no, no, no. Nooooooooo!\"\n\nHeart pounding, he jerked awake, and found himself in starry darkness amidst a grove of trees. He could taste bile in his mouth, and he was shivering with sweat, hot and cold at once. When he looked down for his sword hand, his wrist ended in leather and linen, wrapped snug around an ugly stump. He felt sudden tears well up in his eyes. I felt it, I felt the strength in my fingers, and the rough leather of the sword's grip. My hand...\n\n\"My lord.\" Qyburn knelt beside him, his fatherly face all crinkly with concern. \"What is it? I heard you cry out.\"\n\nSteelshanks Walton stood above them, tall and dour. \"What is it? Why did you scream?\"\n\n\"A dream... only a dream.\" Jaime stared at the camp around him, lost fora moment. \"I was in the dark, but I had my hand back.\" He looked at the stump and felt sick allover again. There's no place like that beneath the Rock, he thought. His stomach was sour and empty, and his head was pounding where he'd pillowed it against the stump.\n\nQyburn felt his brow. \"You still have a touch of fever.\"\n\n\"A fever dream.\" Jaime reached up. \"Help me.\" Steelshanks took him by his good hand and pulled him to his feet.\n\n\"Another cup of dreamwine?\" asked Qyburn."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No. I've dreamt enough this night.\" He wondered how long it was till dawn. Somehow he knew that if he closed his eyes, he would be back in that dark wet place again.\n\n\"Milk of the poppy, then? And something for your fever? You are still weak, my lord. You need to sleep. To rest.\"\n\nThat is the last thing I mean to do. The moonlight glimmered pale upon the stump where Jaime had rested his head. The moss covered it so thickly he had not noticed before, but now he saw that the wood was white. It made him think of Winterfell, and Ned Stark's heart tree. It was not him, he thought. It was never him. But the stump was dead and so was Stark and so were all the others, Prince Rhaegar and Ser Arthur and the children. And Aerys. Aerys is most dead of all. \"Do you believe in ghosts, Maester?\" he asked Qyburn.\n\nThe man's face grew strange. \"Once, at the Citadel, I came into an empty room and saw an empty chair. Yet I knew a woman had been there, only a moment before. The cushion was dented where she'd sat, the cloth was still warm, and her scent lingered in the air. If we leave our smells behind us when we leave a room, surely something of our souls must remain when we leave this life?\" Qyburn spread his hands. \"The archmaesters did not like my thinking, though. Well, Marwyn did, but he was the only one.\"\n\nJaime ran his fingers through his hair. \"Walton,\" he said, \"saddle the horses. I want to go back.\"\n\n\"Back?\" Steelshanks regarded him dubiously."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He thinks I've gone mad. And perhaps I have. \"I left something at Harrenhal.\"\n\n\"Lord Vargo holds it now. Him and his Bloody Mummers.\"\n\n\"You have twice the men he does.\"\n\n\"If I don't serve you up to your father as commanded, Lord Bolton will have my hide. We press onto King's Landing.\"\n\nOnce Jaime might have countered with a smile and a threat, but one-handed cripples do not inspire much fear. He wondered what his brother would do. Tyrion would find away. \"Lannisters lie, Steelshanks. Didn't Lord Bolton tell you that?\"\n\nThe man frowned suspiciously. \"What if he did?\"\n\n\"Unless you take me back to Harrenhal, the song I sing my father may not be one the Lord of the Dreadfort would wish to hear. I might even say it was Bolton ordered my hand cutoff, and Steelshanks Walton who swung the blade.\"\n\nWalton gaped at him. \"That isn't so.\"\n\n\"No, but who will my father believe?\" Jaime made himself smile, the way he used to smile when nothing in the world could frighten him. \"It will be so much easier if we just go back. We'd be on our way again soon enough, and I'd sing such a sweet song in King's Landing you'll never believe your ears. You'd get the girl, and a nice fat purse of gold as thanks.\"\n\n\"Gold?\" Walton liked that well enough. \"How much gold?\"\n\nI have him. \"Why, how much would you want?\"\n\nAnd by the time the sun came up, they were halfway back to Harrenhal.\n\nJaime pushed his horse much harder than he had the day before, and Steelshanks and the northmen were forced to match his pace. Even so, it was midday before they reached the castle on the lake. Beneath a darkening sky that threatened rain, the immense walls and five great towers stood black and ominous. It looks so dead. The walls were empty, the gates closed and barred. But high above the barbican, a single banner hung limp. The black goat of Qohor, he knew. Jaime cupped his hands to shout. \"You in there! Open your gates, or I'll kick them down!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was not until Qyburn and Steelshanks added their voices that ahead finally appeared on the battlements above them. He goggled down at them, then vanished. A short time later, they heard the portcullis being drawn upward. The gates swung open, and Jaime Lannister spurred his horse through the walls, scarcely glancing at the murder holes as he passed beneath them. He had been worried that the goat might not admit them, but it seemed as if the Brave Companions still thought of them as allies. Fools.\n\nThe outer ward was deserted; only the long slate-roofed stables showed any signs of life, and it was not horses that interested Jaime just then. He reined up and looked about. He could hear sounds from somewhere behind the Tower of Ghosts, and men shouting in half a dozen tongues. Steelshanks and Qyburn rode upon either side. \"Get what you came back for, and we'll begone again,\" said Walton. \"I want no trouble with the Mummers.\"\n\n\"Tell your men to keep their hands on their sword hilts, and the Mummers will want no trouble with you. Two to one, remember?\" Jaime's head jerked round at the sound of a distant roar, faint but ferocious. It echoed off the walls of Harrenhal, and the laughter swelled up like the sea. All of a sudden, he knew what was happening. Have we come too late? His stomach did a lurch, and he slammed his spurs into his horse, galloping across the outer ward, beneath an arched stone bridge, around the Wailing Tower, and through the Flowstone Yard.\n\nThey had her in the bear pit.\n\nKing Harren the Black had wished to do even his bear-baiting in lavish style. The pit was ten yards across and five yards deep, walled in stone, floored with sand, and encircled by six tiers of marble benches. The Brave Companions filled only a quarter of the seats, Jaime saw as he swung down clumsily from his horse. The sellswords were so fixed on the spectacle beneath that only those across the pit noticed their arrival."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Brienne wore the same ill-fitting gown she'd worn to supper with Roose Bolton. No shield, no breastplate, no chainmail, not even boiled leather, only pink satin and Myrish lace. Maybe the goat thought she was more amusing when dressed as a woman. Half her gown was hanging off in tatters, and her left arm dripped blood where the bear had raked her.\n\nAt least they gave her a sword. The wench held it one-handed, moving sideways, trying to put some distance between her and the bear. That's no good, the ring's too small. She needed to attack, to make a quick end to it. Good steel was a match for any bear. But the wench seemed afraid to close. The Mummers showered her with insults and obscene suggestions.\n\n\"This is none of our concern,\" Steelshanks warned Jaime. \"Lord Bolton said the wench was theirs, to do with as they liked.\"\n\n\"Her name's Brienne.\" Jaime descended the steps, pasta dozen startled sellswords. Vargo Hoat had taken the lord's box in the lowest tier. \"Lord Vargo,\" he called over the shouts.\n\nThe Qohorik almost spilt his wine. \"Kingthlayer?\" The left side of his face was bandaged clumsily, the linen over his ear spotted with blood.\n\n\"Pull her out of there.\"\n\n\"Thay out of thith, Kingthlayer, unleth you'd like another thump.\" He waved a wine cup. \"Your thee-mooth bit oth my ear. Thmall wonder her father will not ranthom thuch a freak.\"\n\nA roar turned Jaime back around. The bear was eight feet tall. Gregor Clegane with a pelt, he thought, though likely smarter. The beast did not have the reach the Mountain had with that monster greatsword of his, though."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bellowing in fury, the bear showed a mouth full of great yellow teeth, then fell back to all fours and went straight at Brienne."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There's your chance, Jaime thought. Strike! Now!\n\nInstead, she poked out ineffectually with the point of her blade. The bear recoiled, then came on, rumbling. Brienne slid to her left and poked again at the bear's face. This time he lifted a paw to swat the sword aside.\n\nHe's wary, Jaime realized. He's gone up against other men. He knows swords and spears can hurt him. But that won't keep him off her long. \"Kill him!\" he shouted, but his voice was lost amongst all the other shouts. If Brienne heard, she gave no sign. She moved around the pit, keeping the wall at her back. Too close. If the bear pins her by the wall...\n\nThe beast turned clumsily, too far and too fast. Quick as a cat, Brienne changed direction. There's the wench I remember. She leapt into land a cut across the bear's back. Roaring, the beast went upon his hind legs again. Brienne scrambled back away. Where's the blood? Then suddenly he understood. Jaime rounded on Hoat. \"You gave her a tourney sword.\"\n\nThe goat brayed laughter, spraying him with wine and spittle. \"Of courth.\"\n\n\"I'll pay her bloody ransom. Gold, sapphires, whatever you want. Pull her out of there.\"\n\n\"You want her? Go get her.\"\n\nSo he did.\n\nHe put his good hand on the marble rail and vaulted over, rolling as he hit the sand. The bear turned at the thump, sniffing, watching this new intruder warily. Jaime scrambled to one knee. Well, what in seven hells do I do now? He filled his fist with sand. \"Kingslayer?\" he heard Brienne say, astonished."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Jaime.\" He uncoiled, flinging the sand at the bear's face. The bear mauled the air and roared like blazes.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"Something stupid. Get behind me.\" He circled toward her, putting himself between Brienne and the bear.\n\n\"You get behind. I have the sword.\"\n\n\"A sword with no point and no edge. Get behind me!\" He saw something half-buried in the sand, and snatched it up with his good hand. It proved to be a human jawbone, with some greenish flesh still clinging to it, crawling with maggots. Charming, he thought, wondering whose face he held. The bear was edging closer, so Jaime whipped his arm around and flung bone, meat, and maggots at the beast's head. He missed by a good yard. I ought to lop my left hand off as well, for all the good it does me.\n\nBrienne tried to dart around, but he kicked her legs out from under her. She fell in the sand, clutching the useless sword. Jaime straddled her, and the bear came charging.\n\nThere was a deep twang, and a feathered shaft sprouted suddenly beneath the beast's left eye. Blood and slaver ran from his open mouth, and another bolt took him in the leg. The bear roared, reared. He saw Jaime and Brienne again and lumbered toward them. More crossbows fired, the quarrels ripping through fur and flesh. At such short range, the bowmen could hardly miss. The shafts hit as hard as maces, but the bear took another step. The poor dumb brave brute. When the beast swiped at him, he danced aside, shouting, kicking sand. The bear turned to follow his tormentor, and took another two quarrels in the back. He gave one last rumbling growl, settled back onto his haunches, stretched out on the bloodstained sand, and died."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Brienne got back to her knees, clutching the sword and breathing short ragged breaths. Steelshanks's archers were winding their crossbows and reloading while the Bloody Mummers shouted curses and threats at them. Rorge and Three Toes had swords out, Jaime saw, and Zollo was uncoiling his whip.\n\n\"You thlew my bear!\" Vargo Hoat shrieked.\n\n\"And I'll serve you the same if you give me trouble,\" Steelshanks threw back. \"We're taking the wench.\"\n\n\"Her name is Brienne,\" Jaime said. \"Brienne, the maid of Tarth. You are still maiden, I hope?\"\n\nHer broad homely face turned red. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"Oh, good,\" Jaime said. \"I only rescue maidens.\" To Hoat he said, \"You'll have your ransom. For both of us. A Lannister pays his debts. Now fetch some ropes and get us out of here.\"\n\n\"Bugger that,\" Rorge growled. \"Kill them, Hoat. Or you'll bloody well wish you had!\"\n\nThe Qohorik hesitated. Half his men were drunk, the northmen stone sober, and there were twice as many. Some of the crossbowmen had reloaded by now. \"Pull them out,\" Hoat said, and then, to Jaime, \"I hath chothen to be merthiful. Tell your lord father.\"\n\n\"I will, my lord.\" Not that it will do you any good.\n\nNot until they were half a league from Harrenhal and out of range of archers on the walls did Steelshanks Walton let his anger show. \"Are you mad, Kingslayer? Did you mean to die? No man can fight a bear with his bare hands!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"One bare hand and one bare stump,\" Jaime corrected. \"But I hoped you'd kill the beast before the beast killed me. Elsewise, Lord Bolton would have peeled you like an orange, no?\"\n\nSteelshanks cursed him roundly fora fool of Lannister, spurred his horse, and galloped away up the column.\n\n\"Ser Jaime?\" Even in soiled pink satin and torn lace, Brienne looked more like a man in a gown than a proper woman. \"I am grateful, but... you were well away. Why comeback?\"\n\nA dozen quips came to mind, each crueler than the one before, but Jaime only shrugged. \"I dreamed of you,\" he said."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "CATELYN\n\nRobb bid farewell to his young queen thrice. Once in the godswood before the heart tree, insight of gods and men. The second time beneath the portcullis, where Jeyne sent him forthwith along embrace and a longer kiss. And finally an hour beyond the Tumblestone, when the girl came galloping upon a well-lathered horse to plead with her young king to take her along.\n\nRobb was touched by that, Catelyn saw, but abashed as well. The day was damp and grey, a drizzle had begun to fall, and the last thing he wanted was to calla halt to his march so he could stand in the wet and console a tearful young wife in front of half his army. He speaks her gently, she thought as she watched them together, but there is anger underneath.\n\nAll the time the king and queen were talking, Grey Wind prowled around them, stopping only to shake the water from his coat and bare his teeth at the rain. When at last Robb gave Jeyne one final kiss, dispatched a dozen men to take her back to Riverrun, and mounted his horse once more, the direwolf raced off ahead as swift as an arrow loosed from a longbow.\n\n\"Queen Jeyne has a loving heart, I see,\" said Lame Lothar Frey to Catelyn. \"Not unlike my own sisters. Why, I would wager a guess that even now Roslin in dancing round the Twins chanting \"Lady Tully, Lady Tully, Lady Roslin Tully.\" By the morrow she'll beholding swatches of Riverrun red-and-blue to her cheek to picture how she'll look in her bride's cloak.\" He turned in the saddle to smile at Edmure. \"But you are strangely quiet, Lord Tully. How do you feel, I wonder?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Much as I did at the Stone Mill just before the warhorns sounded,\" Edmure said, only half in jest.\n\nLothar gave a good-natured laugh. \"Let us pray your marriage ends as happily, my lord.\"\n\nAnd may the gods protect us if it does not. Catelyn pressed her heels into her horse, leaving her brother and Lame Lothar to each other's company.\n\nIt had been her who had insisted that Jeyne remain at Riverrun, when Robb would sooner have kept her by his side. Lord Walder might well construe the queen's absence from the wedding as another slight, yet her presence would have been a different sort of insult, salt in the old man's wound. \"Walder Frey has a sharp tongue and along memory,\" she had warned her son. \"I do not doubt that you are strong enough to suffer an old man's rebukes as the price of his allegiance, but you have too much of your father in you to sit there while he insults Jeyne to her face.\"\n\nRobb could not deny the sense of that. Yet all the same, he resents me for it, Catelyn thought wearily. He misses Jeyne already, and some part of him blames me for her absence, though he knows it was good counsel.\n\nOf the six Westerlings who had come with her son from the Crag, only one remained by his side; Ser Raynald, Jeyne's brother, the royal banner-bearer. Robb had dispatched Jeyne's uncle Rolph Spicer to deliver young Martyn Lannister to the Golden Tooth the very day he received Lord Tywin's assent to the exchange of captives. It was deftly done. Her son was relieved of his fear for Martyn's safety, Galbart Glover was relieved to hear that his brother Robett had been put on a ship at Duskendale, Ser Rolph had important and honorable employment... and Grey Wind was at the king's side once more. Where he belongs."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lady Westerling had remained at Riverrun with her children; Jeyne, her little sister Eleyna, and young Rollam, Robb's squire, who complained bitterly about being left."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet that was wise as well. Olyvar Frey had squired for Robb previously, and would doubtless be present for his sister's wedding; to parade his replacement before him would be as unwise as it was unkind. As for Ser Raynald, he was a cheerful young knight who swore that no insult of Walder Frey's could possibly provoke him. And let us pray that insults are all we need to contend with.\n\nCatelyn had her fears on that score, though. Her lord father had never trusted Walder Frey after the Trident, and she was ever mindful of that. Queen Jeyne would be safest behind the high, strong walls of Riverrun, with the Blackfish to protect her. Robb had even created him anew title, Warden of the Southern Marches. Ser Brynden would hold the Trident if any man could.\n\nAll the same, Catelyn would miss her uncle's craggy face, and Robb would miss his counsel. Ser Brynden had played apart in every victory her son had won. Galbart Glover had taken command of the scouts and outriders in his place; a good man, loyal and steady, but without the Blackfish's brilliance.\n\nBehind Glover's screen of scouts, Robb's line of march stretched several miles. The Greatjon led the van. Catelyn traveled in the main column, surrounded by plodding warhorses with steelclad men on their backs. Next came the baggage train, a procession of wayns laden with food, fodder, camp supplies, wedding gifts, and the wounded too weak to walk, under the watchful eye of Ser Wendel Manderly and his White Harbor knights. Herds of sheep and goats and scrawny cattle trailed behind, and then a little trail of footsore camp followers. Even farther back was Robin Flint and the rearguard. There was no enemy in back of them for hundreds of leagues, but Robb would take no chances."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Thirty-five hundred they were, thirty-five hundred who had been blooded in the Whispering Wood, who had reddened their swords at the Battle of the Camps, at Oxcross, Ashemark, and the Crag, and all through the gold-rich hills of the Lannister west."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aside from her brother Edmure's modest retinue of friends, the lords of the Trident had remained to hold the riverlands while the king retook the north. Ahead awaited Edmure's bride and Robb's next battle... and for me, two dead sons, an empty bed, and a castle full of ghosts. It was a cheerless prospect. Brienne, where are you? Bring my girls back tome, Brienne. Bring them back safe.\n\nThe drizzle that had sent them off turned into a soft steady rain by midday, and continued well past nightfall. The next day the northmen never saw the sun at all, but rode beneath leaden skies with their hoods pulled up to keep the water from their eyes. It was a heavy rain, turning roads to mud and fields to quagmires, swelling the rivers and stripping the trees of their leaves. The constant patter made idle chatter more bother than it was worth, so men spoke only when they had something to say, and that was seldom enough.\n\n\"We are stronger than we seem, my lady,\" Lady Maege Mormont said as they rode. Catelyn had grown fond of Lady Maege and her eldest daughter, Dacey; they were more understanding than most in the matter of Jaime Lannister, she had found. The daughter was tall and lean, the mother short and stout, but they dressed alike in mail and leather, with the black bear of House Mormont on shield and surcoat. By Catelyn's lights, that was queer garb fora lady, yet Dacey and Lady Maege seemed more comfortable, both as warriors and as women, than ever the girl from Tarth had been.\n\n\"I have fought beside the Young Wolf in every battle,\" Dacey Mormont said cheerfully. \"He has not lost one yet.\""
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"value": "No, but he has lost everything else, Catelyn thought, but it would not do to say it aloud. The northmen did not lack for courage, but they were far from home, with little enough to sustain them but for their faith in their young king. That faith must be protected, at all costs. I must be stronger, she told herself. I must be strong for Robb. If I despair, my grief will consume me. Everything would turn on this marriage. If Edmure and Roslin were happy in one another, if the Late Lord Frey could be appeased and his power once more wedded to Robb's... Even then, what chance will we have, caught between Lannister and Greyjoy? It was a question Catelyn dared not dwell on, though Robb dwelt on little else. She saw how he studied his maps whenever they made camp, searching for some plan that might win back the north.\n\nHer brother Edmure had other cares. \"You don't suppose all Lord Walder's daughters look like him, do you?\" he wondered, as he satin his tall striped pavilion with Catelyn and his friends.\n\n\"With so many different mothers, a few of the maids are bound to turn up comely,\" said Ser Marq Piper, \"but why should the old wretch give you a pretty one?\"\n\n\"No reason at all,\" said Edmure in a glum tone.\n\nIt was more than Catelyn could stand. \"Cersei Lannister is comely,\" she said sharply. \"You'd be wiser to pray that Roslin is strong and healthy, with a good head and a loyal heart.\" And with that she left them.\n\nEdmure did not take that well. The next day he avoided her entirely on the march, preferring the company of Marq Piper, Lymond Goodbrook, Patrek Mallister, and the young Vances. They do not scold him, except in jest, Catelyn told herself when they raced by her that afternoon with nary a word. I have always been too hard with Edmure, and now grief sharpens my every word. She regretted her rebuke. There was rain enough falling from the sky without her making more. And was it really such a terrible thing, to want a pretty wife? She remembered her own childish disappointment, the first time she had laid eyes on Eddard Stark. She had pictured him as a younger version of his brother Brandon, but that was wrong. Ned was shorter and plainer of face, and so somber. He spoke courteously enough, but beneath the words she sensed a coolness that was all at odds with Brandon, whose mirths had been as wild as his rages. Even when he took her maidenhood, their love had more of duty to it than of passion. We made Robb that night, though; we made a king together. And after the war, at Winterfell, I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweetheart beneath Ned's solemn face. There is no reason Edmure should not find the same, with his Roslin."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "As the gods would have it, their route took them through the Whispering Wood where Robb had won his first great victory."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "They followed the course of the twisting stream on the floor of that pinched narrow valley, much as Jaime Lannister's men had done that fateful night. It was warmer then, Catelyn remembered, the trees were still green, and the stream did not overflow its banks. Fallen leaves choked the flow now and lay in sodden snarls among the rocks and roots, and the trees that had once hidden Robb's army had exchanged their green raiment for leaves of dull gold spotted with brown, and a red that reminded her of rust and dry blood. Only the spruce and the soldier pines still showed green, thrusting up at the belly of the clouds like tall dark spears.\n\nMore than the trees have died since then, she reflected. On the night of the Whispering Wood, Ned was still alive in his cell beneath Aegon's High Hill, Bran and Rickon were safe behind the walls of Winterfell. And Theon Greyjoy fought at Robb's side, and boasted of how he had almost crossed swords with the Kingslayer. Would that he had. If Theon had died in place of Lord Karstark's sons, how much ill would have been undone?\n\nAs they passed through the battleground, Catelyn glimpsed signs of the carnage that had been; an overturned helm filling with rain, a splintered lance, the bones of a horse. Stone cairns had been raised over some of the men who had fallen here, but scavengers had already been at them. Amidst the tumbles of rock, she spied brightly colored cloth and bits of shiny metal. Once she saw a face peering out at her, the shape of the skull beginning to emerge from beneath the melting brown flesh.\n\nIt made her wonder where Ned had come to rest. The silent sisters had taken his bones north, escorted by Hallis Mollen and a small honor guard. Had Ned ever reached Winterfell, to be interred beside his brother Brandon in the dark crypts beneath the castle? Or did the door slam shut at Moat Cailin before Hal and the sisters could pass?"
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"value": "Thirty-five hundred riders wound their way along the valley floor through the heart of the Whispering Wood, but Catelyn Stark had seldom felt lonelier. Every league she crossed took her farther from Riverrun, and she found herself wondering whether she would ever seethe castle again. Or was it lost to her forever, like so much else?\n\nFive days later, their scouts rode back to warn them that the rising waters had washed out the wooden bridge at Fairmarket. Galbart Glover and two of his bolder men had tried swimming their mounts across the turbulent Blue Fork at Ramsford. Two of the horses had been swept under and drowned, and one of the riders; Glover himself managed to cling to a rock until they could pull him in. \"The river hasn't run this high since spring,\" Edmure said. \"And if this rain keeps falling, it will go higher yet.\"\n\n\"There's abridge further upstream, near Oldstones,\" remembered Catelyn, who had often crossed these lands with her father. \"It's older and smaller, but if it still stands-\"\n\n\"It's gone, my lady,\" Galbart Glover said. \"Washed away even before the one at Fairmarket.\"\n\nRobb looked to Catelyn. \"Is there another bridge?\"\n\n\"No. And the fords will be impassable.\" She tried to remember. \"If we cannot cross the Blue Fork, we'll have to go around it, through Sevenstreams and Hag's Mire.\"\n\n\"Bogs and bad roads, or none at all,\" warned Edmure. \"The going will be slow, but we'll get there, I suppose.\"\n\n\"Lord Walder will wait, I'm sure,\" said Robb. \"Lothar sent him a bird from Riverrun, he knows we are coming.\""
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"value": "\"Yes, but the man is prickly, and suspicious by nature,\" said Catelyn. \"He may take this delay as a deliberate insult.\"\n\n\"Very well, I'll beg his pardon for our tardiness as well. A sorry king I'll be, apologizing with every second breath.\" Robb made awry face. \"I hope Bolton got across the Trident before the rains began. The kingsroad runs straight north, he'll have an easy march. Even afoot, he should reach the Twins before us.\"\n\n\"And when you've joined his men to yours and seen my brother married, what then?\" Catelyn asked him.\n\n\"North.\" Robb scratched Grey Wind behind an ear.\n\n\"By the causeway? Against Moat Cailin?\"\n\nHe gave her an enigmatic smile. \"That's one way to go,\" he said, and she knew from his tone that he would say no more. A wise king keeps his own counsel, she reminded herself.\n\nThey reached Oldstones after eight more days of steady rain, and made their camp upon the hill overlooking the Blue Fork, within a ruined stronghold of the ancient river kings. Its foundations remained amongst the weeds to show where the walls and keeps had stood, but the local smallfolk had long ago made off with most of the stones to raise their barns and septs and holdfasts. Yet in the center of what once would have been the castle's yard, a great carved sepulcher still rested, half hidden in waist-high brown grass amongst a stand of ash.\n\nThe lid of the sepulcher had been carved into a likeness of the man whose bones lay beneath, but the rain and the wind had done their work. The king had worn a beard, they could see, but otherwise his face was smooth and featureless, with only vague suggestions of a mouth, a nose, eyes, and the crown about the temples. His hands folded over the shaft of a stone warhammer that lay upon his chest. Once the warhammer would have been carved with runes that told its name and history, but all that the centuries had worn away. The stone itself was cracked and crumbling at the corners, discolored here and thereby spreading white splotches of lichen, while wild roses crept up over the king's feet almost to his chest."
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"value": "It was there that Catelyn found Robb, standing somber in the gathering dusk with only Grey Wind beside him. The rain had stopped for once, and he was bareheaded. \"Does this castle have a name?\" he asked quietly, when she came up to him.\n\n\"Oldstones, all the smallfolk called it when I was a girl, but no doubt it had some other name when it was still a hall of kings.\" She had camped here once with her father, on their way to Seagard. Petyr was with us too...\n\n\"There's a song,\" he remembered. \"\"Jenny of Oldstones, with the flowers in her hair. '\"\n\n\"We're all just songs in the end. If we are lucky.\" She had played at being Jenny that day, had even wound flowers in her hair. And Petyr had pretended to be her Prince of Dragonflies. Catelyn could not have been more than twelve, Petyr just a boy.\n\nRobb studied the sepulcher. \"Whose grave is this?\"\n\n\"Here lies Tristifer, the Fourth of His Name, King of the Rivers and the Hills.\" Her father had told her his story once. \"He ruled from the Trident to the Neck, thousands of years before Jenny and her prince, in the days when the kingdoms of the First Men were falling one after the other before the onslaught of the Andals. The Hammer of Justice, they called him. He fought a hundred battles and won nine-and-ninety, or so the singers say, and when he raised this castle it was the strongest in Westeros.\" She put a hand on her son's shoulder. \"He died in his hundredth battle, when seven Andal kings joined forces against him. The fifth Tristifer was not his equal, and soon the kingdom was lost, and then the castle, and last of all the line. With Tristifer the Fifth died House Mudd, that had ruled the riverlands fora thousand years before the Andals came.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"His heir failed him.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robb ran a handover the rough weathered stone. \"I had hoped to leave Jeyne with child... we tried often enough, but I'm not certain...\"\n\n\"It does not always happen the first time.\" Though it did with you. \"Nor even the hundredth. You are very young.\"\n\n\"Young, and a king,\" he said. \"A king must have an heir. If I should die in my next battle, the kingdom must not die with me. Bylaw Sansa is next inline of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her.\" His mouth tightened. \"To her, and her lord husband. Tyrion Lannister. I cannot allow that. I will not allow that. That dwarf must never have the north.\"\n\n\"No,\" Catelyn agreed. \"You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son.\" She considered a moment. \"Your father's father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest... it might have been a Templeton, but...\"\n\n\"Mother.\" There was a sharpness in Robb's tone. \"You forget. My father had four sons.\"\n\nShe had not forgotten; she had not wanted to look at it, yet there it was. \"A Snow is not a Stark.\"\n\n\"Jon's more a Stark than some lordlings from the Vale who have never so much asset eyes on Winterfell.\"\n\n\"Jon is a brother of the Night's Watch, sworn to take no wife and hold no lands. Those who take the black serve for life.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So do the knights of the Kingsguard. That did not stop the Lannisters from stripping the white cloaks from Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Boros Blount when they had no more use for them. If I send the Watch a hundred men in Jon's place, I'll wager they find someway to release him from his vows.\"\n\nHe is set on this. Catelyn knew how stubborn her son could be. \"A bastard cannot inherit.\"\n\n\"Not unless he's legitimized by a royal decree,\" said Robb. \"There is more precedent for that than for releasing a Sworn Brother from his oath.\"\n\n\"Precedent,\" she said bitterly. \"Yes, Aegon the Fourth legitimized all his bastards on his deathbed. And how much pain, grief, war, and murder grew from that? I know you trust Jon. But can you trust his sons? Or their sons? The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations, until Barristan the Bold slew the last of them on the Stepstones. If you make Jon legitimate, there is noway to turn him bastard again. Should hewed and breed, any sons you may have by Jeyne will never be safe.\"\n\n\"Jon would never harm a son of mine.\"\n\n\"No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?\"\n\nGrey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer's crypt, his teeth bared. Robb's own face was cold. \"That is as cruel as it is unfair. Jon is no Theon.\"\n\n\"So you pray. Have you considered your sisters? What of their rights? I agree that the north must not be permitted to pass to the Imp, but what of Arya? Bylaw, she comes after Sansa... your own sister, trueborn...\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"... and dead. No one has seen or heard of Arya since they cut Father's head off. Why do you lie to yourself? Arya's gone, the same as Bran and Rickon, and they'll kill Sansa too once the dwarf gets a child from her. Jon is the only brother that remains tome. Should I die without issue, I want him to succeed meas King in the North. I had hoped you would support my choice.\"\n\n\"I cannot,\" she said. \"In all else, Robb. In everything. But not in this... this folly. Do not ask it.\"\n\n\"I don't have to. I'm the king.\" Robb turned and walked off, Grey Wind bounding down from the tomb and loping after him.\n\nWhat have I done? Catelyn thought wearily, as she stood alone by Tristifer's stone sepulcher. First I anger Edmure, and now Robb, but all I have done is speak the truth. Are men so fragile they cannot bear to hear it? She might have wept then, had not the sky begun to do it for her. It was all she could do to walk back to her tent, and sit therein the silence.\n\nIn the days that followed, Robb was everywhere and anywhere; riding at the head of the van with the Greatjon, scouting with Grey Wind, racing back to Robin Flint and the rearguard. Men said proudly that the Young Wolf was the first to rise each dawn and the last to sleep at night, but Catelyn wondered whether he was sleeping at all. He grows as lean and hungry as his direwolf.\n\n\"My lady,\" Maege Mormont said to her one morning as they rode through a steady rain, \"you seem so somber. Is aught amiss?\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "My lord husband is dead, as is my father. Two of my sons have been murdered, my daughter has been given to a faithless dwarf to bear his vile children, my other daughter is vanished and likely dead, and my last son and my only brother are both angry with me. What could possibly be amiss? That was more truth than Lady Maege would wish to hear, however. \"This is an evil rain,\" she said instead. \"We have suffered much, and there is more peril and more grief ahead. We need to face it boldly, with horns blowing and banners flying bravely. But this rain beats us down. The banners hang limp and sodden, and the men huddle under their cloaks and scarcely speak to one another. Only an evil rain would chill our hearts when most we need them to burn hot.\"\n\nDacey Mormont looked up at the sky. \"I would sooner have water raining down on me than arrows.\"\n\nCatelyn smiled despite herself. \"You are braver than I am, I fear. Are all your Bear Island women such warriors?\"\n\n\"She-bears, aye,\" said Lady Maege. \"We have needed to be. In olden days the ironmen would come raiding in their longboats, or wildlings from the Frozen Shore. The men would be off fishing, like as not. The wives they left behind had to defend themselves and their children, or else be carried off.\"\n\n\"There's a carving on our gate,\" said Dacey. \"A woman in a bearskin, with a child in one arm suckling at her breast. In the other hand she holds a battleaxe. She's no proper lady, that one, but I always loved her.\"\n\n\"My nephew Jorah brought home a proper lady once,\" said Lady Maege. \"He won her in a tourney. How she hated that carving.\""
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye, and all the rest,\" said Dacey. \"She had hairlike spun gold, that Lynesse. Skin like cream. But her soft hands were never made for axes.\"\n\n\"Nor her teats forgiving suck,\" her mother said bluntly.\n\nCatelyn knew of whom they spoke; Jorah Mormont had brought his second wife to Winterfell for feasts, and once they had guested fora fortnight. She remembered how young the Lady Lynesse had been, how fair, and how unhappy. One night, after several cups of wine, she had confessed to Catelyn that the north was no place fora Hightower of Oldtown. \"There was a Tully of Riverrun who felt the same once,\" she had answered gently, trying to console, \"but in time she found much here she could love.\"\n\nAll lost now, she reflected. Winterfell and Ned, Bran and Rickon, Sansa, Arya, all gone. Only Robb remains. Had there been too much of Lynesse Hightower in her after all, and too little of the Starks? Would that I had known how to wield an axe, perhaps I might have been able to protect them better.\n\nDay followed day, and still the rain kept falling. All the way up the Blue Fork they rode, past Sevenstreams where the river unraveled into a confusion of rills and brooks, then through Hag's Mire, where glistening green pools waited to swallow the unwary and the soft ground sucked at the hooves of their horses like a hungry babe at its mother's breast. The going was worse than slow. Half the wayns had to be abandoned to the muck, their loads distributed amongst mules and draft horses.\n\nLord Jason Mallister caught up with them amidst the bogs of Hag's Mire. There was more than an hour of daylight remaining when he rode up with his column, but Robb called a halt at once, and Ser Raynald Westerling came to escort Catelyn to the king's tent. She found her son seated beside a brazier, a map across his lap. Grey Wind slept at his feet. The Greatjon was with him, along with Galbart Glover, Maege Mormont, Edmure, and a man that Catelyn did not know, a fleshy balding man with a cringing look to him. No lordling, this one, she knew the moment she laid eyes on the stranger. Not even a warrior."
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jason Mallister rose to offer Catelyn his seat. His hair had almost as much white in it as brown, but the Lord of Seagard was still a handsome man; tall and lean, with a chiseled clean-shaven face, high cheekbones, and fierce blue-grey eyes. \"Lady Stark, it is ever a pleasure. I bring good tidings, I hope.\"\n\n\"We are in sore need of some, my lord.\" She sat, listening to the rain patter down noisily against the canvas overhead.\n\nRobb waited for Ser Raynald to close the tent flap. \"The gods have heard our prayers, my lords. Lord Jason has brought us the captain of the Myraham, a merchanter out of Oldtown. Captain, tell them what you told me.\"\n\n\"Aye, Your Grace.\" He licked his thick lips nervously. \"My last port of call afore Seagard, that was Lordsport on Pyke. The ironmen kept me there more'n half a year, they did. King Balon's command. Only, well, the long and the short of it is, he's dead.\"\n\n\"Balon Greyjoy?\" Catelyn's heart skipped a beat. \"You are telling us that Balon Greyjoy is dead?\"\n\nThe shabby little captain nodded. \"You know how Pyke's built on a headland, and part on rocks and islands off the shore, with bridges between? The way I heard it in Lordsport, there was a blow coming in from the west, rain and thunder, and old King Balon was crossing one of them bridges when the wind got hold of it and just tore the thing to pieces. He washed up two days later, all bloated and broken. Crabs ate his eyes, I hear.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Greatjon laughed. \"King crabs, I hope, to sup upon such royal jelly, eh?\"\n\nThe captain bobbed his head. \"Aye, but that's not all of it, no!\" He leaned forward. \"The brother's back.\"\n\n\"Victarion?\" asked Galbart Glover, surprised.\n\n\"Euron. Crow's Eye, they call him, as black a pirate as ever raised a sail. He's been gone for years, but Lord Balon was no sooner cold than there he was, sailing into Lordsport in his Silence. Black sails and a red hull, and crewed by mutes. He'd been to Asshai and back, I heard. Wherever he was, though, he's home now, and he marched right into Pyke and sat his arse in the Seastone Chair, and drowned Lord Botley in a cask of seawater when he objected. That was when Iran back to Myraham and slipped anchor, hoping I could getaway whilst things were confused. And so I did, and here I am.\"\n\n\"Captain,\" said Robb when the man was done, \"you have my thanks, and you will not go unrewarded. Lord Jason will take you back to your ship when we are done. Pray wait outside.\"\n\n\"That I will, Your Grace. That I will.\"\n\nNo sooner had he left the king's pavilion than the Greatjon began to laugh, but Robb silenced him with a look. \"Euron Greyjoy is no man's notion of a king, if half of what Theon said of him was true. Theon is the rightful heir, unless he's dead... but Victarion commands the Iron Fleet. I can't believe he would remain at Moat Cailin while Euron Crow's Eye holds the Seastone Chair. He has to go back.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's a daughter as well,\" Galbart Glover reminded him. \"The one who holds Deepwood Motte, and Robett's wife and child.\"\n\n\"If she stays at Deepwood Motte that's all she can hope to hold,\" said Robb. \"What's true for the brothers is even more true for her. She will need to sail home to oust Euron and press her own claim.\" Her son turned to Lord Jason Mallister. \"You have a fleet at Seagard?\"\n\n\"A fleet, Your Grace? Half a dozen longships and two war galleys. Enough to defend my own shores against raiders, but I could not hope to meet the Iron Fleet in battle.\"\n\n\"Nor would I ask it of you. The ironborn will besetting sail toward Pyke, I expect. Theon told me how his people think. Every captain a king on his own deck. They will all want a voice in the succession. My lord, I need two of your longships to sail around the Cape of Eagles and up the Neck to Greywater Watch.\"\n\nLord Jason hesitated. \"A dozen streams drain the wetwood, all shallow, silty, and uncharted. I would not even call them rivers. The channels are ever drifting and changing. There are endless sandbars, deadfalls, and tangles of rotting trees. And Greywater Watch moves. How are my ships to find it?\"\n\n\"Go upriver flying my banner. The crannogmen will find you. I want two ships to double the chances of my message reaching Howland Reed. Lady Maege shall goon one, Galbart on the second.\" He turned to the two he'd named. \"You'll carry letters for those lords of mine who remain in the north, but all the commands within will be false, in case you have the misfortune to betaken. If that happens, you must tell them that you were sailing for the north. Back to Bear Island, or for the Stony Shore.\" He tapped a finger on the map. \"Moat Cailin is the key. Lord Balon knew that, which is why he sent his brother Victarion therewith the hard heart of the Greyjoy strength.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Succession squabbles or no, the ironborn are not such fools as to abandon Moat Cailin,\" said Lady Maege.\n\n\"No,\" Robb admitted. \"Victarion will leave the best part of his garrison, I'd guess. Every man he takes will be one less man we need to fight, however. And he will take many of his captains, count on that. The leaders. He will need such men to speak for him if he hopes to sit the Seastone Chair.\"\n\n\"You cannot mean to attack up the causeway, Your Grace,\" said Galbart Glover. \"The approaches are too narrow. There is noway to deploy. No one has ever taken the Moat.\"\n\n\"From the south,\" said Robb. \" But if we can attack from the north and west simultaneously, and take the ironmen in the rear while they are beating off what they think is my main thrust up the causeway, then we have a chance. Once I linkup with Lord Bolton and the Freys, I will have more than twelve thousand men. I mean to divide them into three battles and startup the causeway a half-day apart. If the Greyjoys have eyes south of the Neck, they will see my whole strength rushing headlong at Moat Cailin.\n\n\"Roose Bolton will have the rearguard, while I command the center. Greatjon, you shall lead the van against Moat Cailin. Your attack must be so fierce that the ironborn have no leisure to wonder if anyone is creeping down on them from the north.\"\n\nThe Greatjon chuckled. \"Your creepers best come fast, or my men will swarm those walls and win the Moat before you show your face. I'll make a gift of it to you when you come dawdling up.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That's a gift I should be glad to have,\" said Robb.\n\nEdmure was frowning. \"You talk of attacking the ironmen in the rear, sire, but how do you mean to get north of them?\"\n\n\"There are ways through the Neck that are not on any map, Uncle. Ways known only to the crannogmen-narrow trails between the bogs, and wet roads through the reeds that only boats can follow.\" He turned to his two messengers. \"Tell Howland Reed that he is to send guides tome, two days after I have started up the causeway. To the center battle, where my own standard flies. Three hosts will leave the Twins, but only two will reach Moat Cailin. Mine own battle will melt away into the Neck, to reemerge on the Fever. If we move swiftly once my uncle's wed, we can all be in position by year's end. We will fall upon the Moat from three sides on the first day of the new century, as the ironmen are waking with hammers beating at their heads from the mead they'll quaff the night before.\"\n\n\"I like this plan,\" said the Greatjon. \"I like it well.\"\n\nGalbart Glover rubbed his mouth. \"There are risks. If the crannogmen should fail you...\"\n\n\"We will be no worse than before. But they will not fail. My father knew the worth of Howland Reed.\" Robb rolled up the map, and only then looked at Catelyn. \"Mother.\"\n\nShe tensed. \"Do you have some part in this for me?\"\n\n\"Your part is to stay safe. Our journey through the Neck will be dangerous, and naught but battle awaits us in the north. But Lord Mallister has kindly offered to keep you safe at Seagard until the war is done. You will be comfortable there, I know.\""
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Is this my punishment for opposing him about Jon Snow? Or for being a woman, and worse, a mother? It took her a moment to realize that they were all watching her. They had known, she realized. Catelyn should not have been surprised. She had won no friends by freeing the Kingslayer, and more than once she had heard the Greatjon say that women had no place on a battlefield.\n\nHer anger must have blazed across her face, because Galbart Glover spoke up before she said a word. \"My lady, His Grace is wise. It's best you do not come with us.\"\n\n\"Seagard will be brightened by your presence, Lady Catelyn,\" said Lord Jason Mallister.\n\n\"You would make me a prisoner,\" she said.\n\n\"An honored guest,\" Lord Jason insisted.\n\nCatelyn turned to her son. \"I mean no offense to Lord Jason,\" she said stiffly, \"but if I cannot continue on with you, I would sooner return to Riverrun.\"\n\n\"I left my wife at Riverrun. I want my mother elsewhere. If you keep all your treasures in one purse, you only make it easier for those who would rob you. After the wedding, you shall go to Seagard, that is my royal command.\" Robb stood, and as quick as that, her fate was settled. He picked up a sheet of parchment. \"One more matter. Lord Balon has left chaos in his wake, we hope. I would not do the same. Yet I have no son as yet, my brothers Bran and Rickon are dead, and my sister is wed to a Lannister. I've thought long and hard about who might follow me. I command you now as my true and loyal lords to fix your seals to this document as witnesses to my decision.\""
},
{
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"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A king indeed, Catelyn thought, defeated. She could only hope that the trap he'd planned for Moat Cailin worked as well as the one in which he'd just caught her."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "SAMWELL\n\nWhitetree, Sam thought. Please, let this be Whitetree. He remembered Whitetree. Whitetree was on the maps he'd drawn, on their way north. If this village was Whitetree, he knew where they were. Please, it has to be. He wanted that so badly that he forgot his feet fora little bit, he forgot the ache in his calves and his lower back and the stiff frozen fingers he could scarcely feel. He even forgot about Lord Mormont and Craster and the wights and the Others. Whitetree, Sam prayed, to any god that might be listening.\n\nAll wildling villages looked much alike, though. A huge weirwood grew in the center of this one... but a white tree did not mean Whitetree, necessarily. Hadn't the weirwood at Whitetree been bigger than this one? Maybe he was remembering it wrong. The face carved into the bone pale trunk was long and sad; red tears of dried sap leaked from its eyes. Was that how it looked when we came north? Sam couldn't recall.\n\nAround the tree stood a handful of one-room hovels with sod roofs, a longhall built of logs and grown over with moss, a stone well, a sheepfold... but no sheep, nor any people. The wildlings had gone to join Mance Rayder in the Frostfangs, taking all they owned except their houses. Sam was thankful for that. Night was coming on, and it would be good to sleep beneath a roof for once. He was so tired. It seemed as though he had been walking half his life. His boots were falling to pieces, and all the blisters on his feet had burst and turned to callus, but now he had new blisters under the callus, and his toes were getting frostbitten."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "But it was either walk or die, Sam knew. Gilly was still weak from childbirth and carrying the babe besides; she needed the horse more than he did. The second horse had died on them three days out from Craster's Keep. It was a wonder she lasted that long, poor half-starved thing. Sam's weight had probably done for her. They might have tried riding double, but he was afraid the same thing would happen again. It's better that I walk.\n\nSam left Gilly in the longhall to make afire while he poked his head into the hovels. She was better at making fires; he could never seem to get the kindling to catch, and the last time he'd tried to strike a spark off flint and steel he managed to cut himself on his knife. Gilly bound up the gash for him, but his hand was stiff and sore, even clumsier than it had been before. He knew he should wash the wound and change the binding, but he was afraid to look at it. Besides, it was so cold that he hated taking off his gloves.\n\nSam did not know what he hoped to find in the empty houses. Maybe the wildlings had left some food behind. He had to take a look. Jon had searched the huts at Whitetree, on their way north. Inside one hovel Sam heard a rustling of rats from a dark corner, but otherwise there was nothing in any of them but old straw, old smells, and some ashes beneath the smoke hole.\n\nHe turned back to the weirwood and studied the carved face a moment. It is not the face we saw, he admitted to himself. The tree's not half as big as the one at Whitetree. The red eyes wept blood, and he didn't remember that either. Clumsily, Sam sank to his knees. \"Old gods, hear my prayer. The Seven were my father's gods but I said my words to you when I joined the Watch. Help us now. I fear we might be lost. We're hungry too, and so cold. I don't know what gods I believe in now, but... please, if you're there, help us. Gilly has a little son.\" That was all that he could think to say. The dusk was deepening, the leaves of the weirwood rustling softly, waving like a thousand blood-red hands. Whether Jon's gods had heard him or not he could not say."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "By the time he returned to the longhall, Gilly had the fire going. She sat close to it with her furs opened, the babe at her breast. He's as hungry as we are, Sam thought. The old women had smuggled out food for them from Craster's, but they had eaten most of it by now. Sam had been a hopeless hunter even at Horn Hill, where game was plentiful and he had hounds and huntsmen to help him; herein this endless empty forest, the chances of him catching anything were remote. His efforts at fishing the lakes and half-frozen streams had been dismal failures as well.\n\n\"How much longer, Sam?\" Gilly asked. \"Is it far, still?\"\n\n\"Not so far. Not so far as it was.\" Sam shrugged out of his pack, eased himself awkwardly to the floor, and tried to cross his legs. His back ached so abominably from the walking that he would have liked to lean up against one of the carved wooden pillars that supported the roof, but the fire was in the center of the hall beneath the smoke hole and he craved warmth even more than comfort. \"Another few days should see us there.\"\n\nSam had his maps, but if this wasn't Whitetree then they weren't going to be much use. We went too far east to get around that lake, he fretted, or maybe too far west when I tried to double back. He was coming to hate lakes and rivers. Up here there was never a ferry or bridge, which meant walking all the way around the lakes and searching for places to ford the rivers. It was easier to follow a game trail than to struggle through the brush, easier to circle a ridge instead of climbing it. If Bannen or Dywen were with us we'd beat Castle Black by now, warming our feet in the common room. Bannen was dead, though, and Dywen gone with Grenn and Dolorous Edd and the others."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Wallis three hundred miles long and seven hundred feet high, Sam reminded himself. If they kept going south, they had to find it, sooner or later. And he was certain that they had been going south. By day he took directions from the sun, and on clear nights they could follow the Ice Dragon's tail, though they hadn't traveled much by night since the second horse had died. Even when the moon was full it was too dark beneath the trees, and it would have been so easy for Sam or the last garron to break a leg. We have to be well south by now, we have to be.\n\nWhat he wasn't so certain of was how far east or west they might have strayed. They would reach the Wall, yes... in a day or a fortnight, it couldn't be farther than that, surely, surely... but where? It was the gate at Castle Black they needed to find; the only way through the Wall fora hundred leagues.\n\n\"Is the Wall as big as Craster used to say?\" Gilly asked.\n\n\"Bigger.\" Sam tried to sound cheerful. \"So big you can't even seethe castles hidden behind it. But they're there, you'll see. The Wallis all ice, but the castles are stone and wood. There are tall towers and deep vaults and a huge longhall with a great fire burning in the hearth, day and night. It's so hot in there, Gilly, you'll hardly believe it.\"\n\n\"Could I standby the fire? Me and the boy? Not fora longtime, just till we're good and warm?\"\n\n\"You can standby the fire as long as you like. You'll have food and drink, too. Hot mulled wine and a bowl of venison stewed with onions, and Hobb's bread right out of the oven, so hot it will burn your fingers.\" Sam peeled a glove off to wriggle his own fingers near the flames, and soon regretted it. They had been numb with cold, but as feeling returned they hurt so much he almost cried. \"Sometimes one of the brothers will sing,\" he said, to take his mind off the pain. \"Dareon sang best, but they sent him to Eastwatch. There's still Halder, though. And Toad. His real name is Todder, but he looks like a toad, so we call him that. He likes to sing, but he has an awful voice.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Do you sing?\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gilly rearranged her furs, and she moved the babe from one breast to the other.\n\nSam blushed. \"I... I know some songs. When I was little I liked to sing. I danced too, but my lord father never liked me to. He said if I wanted to prance around I should do it in the yard with a sword in my hand.\"\n\n\"Could you sing some southron song? For the babe?\"\n\n\"If you like.\" Sam thought fora moment. \"There's a song our septon used to sing tome and my sisters, when we were little and it was time for us to go to sleep.\"The Song of the Seven, \"it's called.\" He cleared his throat and softly sang:\n\nThe Father's face is stern and strong,\n\nhe sits and judges right from wrong.\n\nHe weighs our lives, the short and long,\n\nand loves the little children.\n\nThe Mother gives the gift of life,\n\nand watches over every wife.\n\nHer gentle smile ends all strife,\n\nand she loves her little children.\n\nThe Warrior stands before the foe,\n\nprotecting us where e'er we go.\n\nWith sword and shield and spear and bow,\n\nhe guards the little children.\n\nThe Crone is very wise and old,\n\nand sees our fates as they unfold.\n\nShe lifts her lamp of shining gold,\n\nto lead the little children.\n\nThe Smith, he labors day and night,\n\nto put the world of men to right.\n\nWith hammer, plow, and fire bright,\n\nhe builds for little children."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Maiden dances through the sky,\n\nshe lives in every lover's sigh,\n\nHer smiles teach the birds to fly,\n\nand give dreams to little children.\n\nThe Seven Gods who made us all,\n\nare listening if we should call.\n\nSo close your eyes, you shall not fall,\n\nthey see you, little children,\n\nJust close your eyes, you shall not fall,\n\nthey see you, little children.\n\nSam remembered the last time he'd sung the song with his mother, to lull baby Dickon to sleep. His father had heard their voices and come barging in, angry. \"I will have no more of that,\" Lord Randyll told his wife harshly. \"You ruined one boy with those soft septon's songs, do you mean to do the same to this babe?\" Then he looked at Sam and said, \"Go sing to your sisters, if you must sing. I don't want you near my son.\"\n\nGilly's babe had gone to sleep. He was such a tiny thing, and so quiet that Sam feared for him. He didn't even have a name. He had asked Gilly about that, but she said it was bad luck to name a child before he was two. So many of them died.\n\nShe tucked her nipple back inside her furs. \"That was pretty, Sam. You sing good.\"\n\n\"You should hear Dareon. His voice is sweet as mead.\"\n\n\"We drank the sweetest mead the day Craster made me a wife. It was summer then, and not so cold.\" Gilly gave him a puzzled look. \"Did you only sing of six gods? Craster always told us you southrons had seven.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Seven,\" he agreed, \"but no one sings of the Stranger.\" The Stranger's face was the face of death. Even talking of him made Sam uncomfortable. \"We should eat something. A bite or two.\"\n\nNothing was left but a few black sausages, as hard as wood. Sam sawed off a few thin slices for each of them. The effort made his wrist ache, but he was hungry enough to persist. If you chewed the slices long enough they softened up, and tasted good. Craster's wives seasoned them with garlic.\n\nAfter they had finished, Sam begged her pardon and went out to relieve himself and look after the horse. A biting wind was blowing from the north, and the leaves in the trees rattled at him as he passed. He had to break the thin scum of ice on top of the stream so the horse could get a drink. I had better bring her inside. He did not want to wake up at break of day to find that their horse had frozen to death during the night. Gilly would keep going even if that happened. The girl was very brave, not like him. He wished he knew what he was going to do with her back at Castle Black. She kept saying how she'd be his wife if he wanted, but black brothers didn't keep wives; besides, he was a Tarly of Horn Hill, he could never wed a wildling. I'll have to think of something. So long as we reach the Wall alive, the rest doesn't matter, it doesn't matter one little bit.\n\nLeading the horse to the longhall was simple enough. Getting her through the door was not, but Sam persisted. Gilly was already dozing by the time he got the garron inside. He hobbled the horse in a corner, fed some fresh wood to the fire, took off his heavy cloak, and wriggled down under the furs beside the wildling woman. His cloak was big enough to coverall three of them and keep in the warmth of their bodies."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 48"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "\"Seven,\" he agreed, \"but no one sings of the Stranger.\" The Stranger's face was the face of death. Even talking of him made Sam uncomfortable. \"We should eat something. A bite or two.\"\n\nNothing was left but a few black sausages, as hard as wood. Sam sawed off a few thin slices for each of them. The effort made his wrist ache, but he was hungry enough to persist. If you chewed the slices long enough they softened up, and tasted good. Craster's wives seasoned them with garlic.\n\nAfter they had finished, Sam begged her pardon and went out to relieve himself and look after the horse. A biting wind was blowing from the north, and the leaves in the trees rattled at him as he passed. He had to break the thin scum of ice on top of the stream so the horse could get a drink. I had better bring her inside. He did not want to wake up at break of day to find that their horse had frozen to death during the night. Gilly would keep going even if that happened. The girl was very brave, not like him. He wished he knew what he was going to do with her back at Castle Black. She kept saying how she'd be his wife if he wanted, but black brothers didn't keep wives; besides, he was a Tarly of Horn Hill, he could never wed a wildling. I'll have to think of something. So long as we reach the Wall alive, the rest doesn't matter, it doesn't matter one little bit.\n\nLeading the horse to the longhall was simple enough. Getting her through the door was not, but Sam persisted. Gilly was already dozing by the time he got the garron inside. He hobbled the horse in a corner, fed some fresh wood to the fire, took off his heavy cloak, and wriggled down under the furs beside the wildling woman. His cloak was big enough to coverall three of them and keep in the warmth of their bodies."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gilly smelled of milk and garlic and musty old fur, but he was used to that by now. They were good smells, so far as Sam was concerned. He liked sleeping next to her. It made him remember times long past, when he had shared a huge bed at Horn Hill with two of his sisters. That had ended when Lord Randyll decided it was making him soft as a girl. Sleeping alone in my own cold cell never made meany harder or braver, though. He wondered what his father would say if he could see him now. I killed one of the Others, my lord, he imagined saying. I stabbed him with an obsidian dagger, and my Sworn Brothers call me Sam the Slayer now. But even in his fancies, Lord Randyll only scowled, disbelieving.\n\nHis dreams were strange that night. He was back at Horn Hill, at the castle, but his father was not there. It was Sam's castle now. Jon Snow was with him. Lord Mormont too, the Old Bear, and Grenn and Dolorous Edd and Pyp and Toad and all his other brothers from the Watch, but they wore bright colors instead of black. Sam sat at the high table and feasted them all, cutting thick slices off a roast with his father's greatsword Heartsbane. There were sweet cakes to eat and honeyed wine to drink, there was singing and dancing, and everyone was warm. When the feast was done he went up to sleep; not to the lord's bedchamber where his mother and father lived but to the room he had once shared with his sisters. Only instead of his sisters it was Gilly waiting in the huge soft bed, wearing nothing but a big shaggy fur, milk leaking from her breasts.\n\nHe woke suddenly, in cold and dread."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The fire had burned down to smouldering red embers. The air itself seemed frozen, it was so cold. In the corner the garron was whinnying and kicking the logs with her hind legs. Gilly sat beside the fire, hugging her babe. Sam sat up groggy, his breath puffing pale from his open mouth. The longhall was dark with shadows, black and blacker. The hair on his arms was standing up.\n\nIt's nothing, he told himself. I'm cold, that's all.\n\nThen, by the door, one of the shadows moved. A big one.\n\nThis is still a dream, Sam prayed. Oh, make it that I'm still asleep, make it a nightmare. He's dead, he's dead, I saw him die. \"He's come for the babe,\" Gilly wept. \"He smells him. A babe fresh-born stinks o'life. He's come for the life.\"\n\nThe huge dark shape stooped under the lintel, into the hall, and shambled toward them. In the dim light of the fire, the shadow became Small Paul.\n\n\"Go away,\" Sam croaked. \"We don't want you here.\"\n\nPaul's hands were coal, his face was milk, his eyes shone a bitter blue. Hoarfrost whitened his beard, and on one shoulder hunched a raven, pecking at his cheek, eating the dead white flesh. Sam's bladder let go, and he felt the warmth running down his legs. \"Gilly, calm the horse and lead her out. You do that.\"\n\n\"You-\" she started.\n\n\"I have the knife. The dragonglass dagger.\" He fumbled it out as he got to his feet. He'd given the first knife to Grenn, but thankfully he'd remembered to take Lord Mormont's dagger before fleeing Craster's Keep. He clutched it tight, moving away from the fire, away from Gilly and the babe. \"Paul?\" He meant to sound brave, but it came out in a squeak. \"Small Paul. Do you know me? I'm Sam, fat Sam, Sam the Scared, you saved me in the woods. You carried me when I couldn't walk another step. No one else could have done that, but you did.\" Sam backed away, knife in hand, sniveling. I am such a coward. \"Don't hurt us, Paul. Please. Why would you want to hurt us?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gilly scrabbled backward across the hard dirt floor. The wight turned his head to look at her, but Sam shouted'NO!\" and he turned back. The raven on his shoulder ripped a strip of flesh from his pale ruined cheek. Sam held the dagger before him, breathing like a blacksmith's bellows. Across the longhall, Gilly reached the garron. Gods give me courage, Sam prayed. For once, give me a little courage. Just long enough for her to getaway.\n\nSmall Paul moved toward him. Sam backed off until he came up against a rough log wall. He clutched the dagger with both hands to hold it steady. The wight did not seem to fear the dragonglass. Perhaps he did not know what it was. He moved slowly, but Small Paul had never been quick even when he'd been alive. Behind him, Gilly murmured to calm the garron and tried to urge it toward the door. But the horse must have caught a whiff of the wight's queer cold scent. Suddenly she balked, rearing, her hooves lashing at the frosty air. Paul swung toward the sound, and seemed to lose all interest in Sam.\n\nThere was no time to think or pray or be afraid. Samwell Tarly threw himself forward and plunged the dagger down into Small Paul's back. Half-turned, the wight never saw him coming. The raven gave a shriek and took to the air. \"You're dead!\" Sam screamed as he stabbed. \"You're dead, you're dead.\" He stabbed and screamed, again and again, tearing huge rents in Paul's heavy black cloak. Shards of dragonglass flew everywhere as the blade shattered on the iron mail beneath the wool.\n\nSam's wail made a white mist in the black air. He dropped the useless hilt and took a hasty step backwards as Small Paul twisted around. Before he could get out his other knife, the steel knife that every brother carried, the wight's black hands locked beneath his chins. Paul's fingers were so cold they seemed to burn. They burrowed deep into the soft flesh of Sam's throat. Run, Gilly, run, he wanted to scream, but when he opened his mouth only a choking sound emerged."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "His fumbling fingers finally found the dagger, but when he slammed it up into the wight's belly the point skidded off the iron links, and the blade went spinning from Sam's hand. Small Paul's fingers tightened inexorably, and began to twist. He's going to rip my head off, Sam thought in despair. His throat felt frozen, his lungs on fire. He punched and pulled at the wight's wrists, to no avail. He kicked Paul between the legs, uselessly. The world shrank to two blue stars, a terrible crushing pain, and a cold so fierce that his tears froze over his eyes. Sam squirmed and pulled, desperate... and then he lurched forward.\n\nSmall Paul was big and powerful, but Sam still outweighed him, and the wights were clumsy, he had seen that on the Fist. The sudden shift sent Paul staggering back a step, and the living man and the dead one went crashing down together. The impact knocked one hand from Sam's throat, and he was able to suck in a quick breath of air before the icy black fingers returned. The taste of blood filled his mouth. He twisted his neck around, looking for his knife, and saw a dull orange glow. The fire! Only ember and ashes remained, but still... he could not breathe, or think... Sam wrenched himself sideways, pulling Paul with him... his arms flailed against the dirt floor, groping, reaching, scattering the ashes, until at last they found something hot... a chunk of charred wood, smouldering red and orange within the black... his fingers closed around it, and he smashed it into Paul's mouth, so hard he felt teeth shatter.\n\nYet even so the wight's grip did not loosen. Sam's last thoughts were for the mother who had loved him and the father he had failed. The longhall was spinning around him when he saw the wisp of smoke rising from between Paul's broken teeth. Then the dead man's face burst into flame, and the hands were gone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sam sucked in air, and rolled feebly away."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wight was burning, hoarfrost dripping from his beard as the flesh beneath blackened. Sam heard the raven shriek, but Paul himself made no sound. When his mouth opened, only flames came out. And his eyes... It's gone, the blue glow is gone.\n\nHe crept to the door. The air was so cold that it hurt to breathe, but such a fine sweet hurt. He ducked from the longhall. \"Gilly?\" he called. \"Gilly, I killed it. Gil-\"\n\nShe stood with her back against the weirwood, the boy in her arms. The wights were all around her. There were a dozen of them, a score, more... some had been wildlings once, and still wore skins and hides... but more had been his brothers. Sam saw Lark the Sisterman, Softfoot, Ryles. The wen on Chett's neck was black, his boils covered with a thin film of ice. And that one looked like Hake, though it was hard to know for certain with half his head missing. They had torn the poor garron apart, and were pulling out her entrails with dripping red hands. Pale steam rose from her belly.\n\nSam made a whimpery sound. \"It's not fair...\"\n\n\"Fair.\" The raven landed on his shoulder. \"Fair, far, fear.\" It flapped its wings, and screamed along with Gilly. The wights were almost on her. He heard the dark red leaves of the weirwood rustling, whispering to one another in a tongue he did not know. The starlight itself seemed to stir, and all around them the trees groaned and creaked. Sam Tarly turned the color of curdled milk, and his eyes went wide as plates. Ravens! They were in the weirwood, hundreds of them, thousands, perched on the bone-white branches, peering between the leaves. He saw their beaks open as they screamed, saw them spread their black wings. Shrieking, flapping, they descended on the wights in angry clouds. They swarmed round Chett's face and pecked at his blue eyes, they covered the Sisterman like flies, they plucked gobbets from inside Hake's shattered head. There were so many that when Sam looked up, he could not seethe moon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Go,\" said the bird on his shoulder."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Go, go, go.\"\n\nSam ran, puffs of frost exploding from his mouth. All around him the wights flailed at the black wings and sharp beaks that assailed them, falling in an eerie silence with never a grunt nor cry. But the ravens ignored Sam. He took Gilly by the hand and pulled her away from the weirwood. \"We have to go.\"\n\n\"But where?\" Gilly hurried after him, holding her baby. \"They killed our horse, how will we...\"\n\n\"Brother!\" The shout cut through the night, through the shrieks of a thousand ravens. Beneath the trees, a man muffled head to heels in mottled blacks and greys sat astride an elk. \"Here,\" the rider called. A hood shadowed his face.\n\nHe's wearing blacks. Sam urged Gilly toward him. The elk was huge, a great elk, ten feet tall at the shoulder, with a rack of antlers near as wide. The creature sank to his knees to let them mount. \"Here,\" the rider said, reaching down with a gloved hand to pull Gilly up behind him. Then it was Sam's turn. \"My thanks,\" he puffed. Only when he grasped the offered hand did he realize that the rider wore no glove. His hand was black and cold, with fingers hard as stone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "ARYA\n\nWhen they reached the top of the ridge and saw the river, Sandor Clegane reined up hard and cursed.\n\nThe rain was falling from a black iron sky, pricking the green and brown torrent with ten thousand swords. It must be a mile across, Arya thought. The tops of half a hundred trees poked up out the swirling waters, their limbs clutching for the sky like the arms of drowning men. Thick mats of sodden leaves choked the shoreline, and farther out in the channel she glimpsed something pale and swollen, a deer or perhaps a dead horse, moving swiftly downstream. There was a sound too, a low rumble at the edge of hearing, like the sound a dog makes just before he growls.\n\nArya squirmed in the saddle and felt the links of the Hound's mail digging into her back. His arms encircled her; on the left, the burned arm, he'd donned a steel vambrace for protection, but she'd seen him change the dressings, and the flesh beneath was still raw and seeping. If the burns pained him, though, Sandor Clegane gave no hint of it.\n\n\"Is this the Blackwater Rush?\" They had ridden so far in rain and darkness, through trackless woods and nameless villages, that Arya had lost all sense of where they were.\n\n\"It's a river we need to cross, that's all you need to know.\" Clegane would answer her from time to time, but he had warned her not to talk back. He had given her a lot of warnings that first day. \"The next time you hit me, I'll tie your hands behind your back,\" he'd said. \"The next time you try and runoff, I'll bind your feet together. Scream or shout or bite me again, and I'll gag you. We can ride double, or I can throw you across the back of the horse trussed up like a sow for slaughter. Your choice.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She had chosen to ride, but the first time they made camp she'd waited until she thought he was asleep, and found a big jagged rock to smash his ugly head in. Quiet as a shadow, she told herself as she crept toward him, but that wasn't quiet enough. The Hound hadn't been asleep after all. Or maybe he'd woken. Whichever it was, his eyes opened, his mouth twitched, and he took the rock away from her as if she were a baby. The best she could do was kick him. \"I'll give you that one,\" he said, when he flung the rock into the bushes. \"But if you're stupid enough to try again, I'll hurt you.\"\n\n\"Why don't you just kill me like you did Mycah?\" Arya had screamed at him. She was still defiant then, more angry than scared.\n\nHe answered by grabbing the front of her tunic and yanking her within an inch of his burned face. \"The next time you say that name I'll beat you so bad you'll wish I killed you.\"\n\nAfter that, he rolled her in his horse blanket every night when he went to sleep, and tied ropes around her top and bottom so she was bound up as tight as a babe in swaddling clothes.\n\nIt has to be the Blackwater, Arya decided as she watched the rain lash the river. The Hound was Joffrey's dog; he was taking her back to the Red Keep, to hand to Joffrey and the queen. She wished that the sun would come out, so she could tell which way they were going. The more she looked at the moss on the trees the more confused she got. The Blackwater wasn't so wide at King's Landing, but that was before the rains."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The fords will all begone,\" Sandor Clegane said, \"and I wouldn't care to try and swim over neither.\"\n\nThere's noway across, she thought. Lord Beric will catch us for sure. Clegane had pushed his big black stallion hard, doubling back thrice to throw off pursuit, once even riding half a mile up the center of a swollen stream... but Arya still expected to seethe outlaws every time she looked back. She had tried to help them by scratching her name on the trunks of trees when she went in the bushes to make water, but the fourth time she did it he caught her, and that was the end of that. It doesn't matter, Arya told herself, Thoros will find me in his flames. Only he hadn't. Not yet, anyway, and once they crossed the river...\n\n\"Harroway town shouldn't be far,\" the Hound said. \"Where Lord Roote stables Old King Andahar's two-headed water horse. Maybe we'll ride across.\"\n\nArya had never heard of Old King Andahar. She'd never seen a horse with two heads either, especially not one who could run on water, but she knew better than to ask. She held her tongue and sat stiff as the Hound turned the stallion's head and trotted along the ridgeline, following the river downstream. At least the rain was at their backs this way. She'd had enough of it stinging her eyes half-blind and washing down her cheeks like she was crying. Wolves never cry, she reminded herself again.\n\nIt could not have been much past noon, but the sky was dark as dusk. They had not seen the sun in more days than she could count. Arya was soaked to the bone, saddle-sore, sniffling, and achy. She had a fever too, and sometimes shivered uncontrollably, but when she'd told the Hound that she was sick he'd only snarled at her. \"Wipe your nose and shut your mouth,\" he told her. Half the time he slept in the saddle now, trusting his stallion to follow whatever rutted farm track or game trail they were on. The horse was a heavy courser, almost as big as a destrier but much faster. Stranger, the Hound called him. Arya had tried to steal him once, when Clegane was taking a piss against a tree, thinking she could ride off before he could catch her. Stranger had almost bitten her face off. He was gentle as an old gelding with his master, but otherwise he had a temperas black as he was. She had never known a horse so quick to bite or kick."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They rode beside the river for hours, splashing across two muddy vassal streams before they reached the place that Sandor Clegane had spoken of."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lord Harroway's Town,\" he said, and then, when he saw it, \"Seven hells!\" The town was drowned and desolate. The rising waters had overflowed the riverbanks. All that remained of Harroway town was the upper story of a daub-and-wattle inn, the seven-sided dome of a sunken sept, two-thirds of a stone roundtower, some moldy thatch roofs, and a forest of chimneys.\n\nBut there was smoke coming from the tower, Arya saw, and below one arched window a wide flat-bottomed boat was chained uptight. The boat had a dozen oarlocks and a pair of great carved wooden horse heads mounted fore and aft. The two-headed horse, she realized. There was a wooden house with a sod roof right in the middle of the deck, and when the Hound cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted two men came spilling out. A third appeared in the window of the roundtower, clutching a loaded crossbow. \"What do you want?\" he shouted across the swirling brown waters.\n\n\"Take us over,\" the Hound shouted back.\n\nThe men in the boat conferred with one another. One of them, a grizzled grey-haired man with thick arms and a bent back, stepped to the rail. \"It will cost you.\"\n\n\"Then I'll pay.\"\n\nWith what? Arya wondered. The outlaws had taken Clegane's gold, but maybe Lord Beric had left him some silver and copper. A ferry ride shouldn't cost more than a few coppers...\n\nThe ferrymen were talking again. Finally the bent-backed one turned away and gave a shout. Six more men appeared, pulling up hoods to keep the rain off their heads. Still more squirmed out the holdfast window and leapt down onto the deck. Half of them looked enough like the bent-backed man to be his kin. Some of them undid the chains and took up long poles, while the others slid heavy wide-bladed oars through the locks. The ferry swung about and began to creep slowly toward the shallows, oars stroking smoothly on either side. Sandor Clegane rode down the hill to meet it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When the aft end of the boat slammed into the hillside, the ferrymen opened a wide door beneath the carved horse's head, and extended a heavy oaken plank. Stranger balked at the water's edge, but the Hound put his heels into the courser's flank and urged him up the gangway. The bent-backed man was waiting for them on deck. \"Wet enough for you, ser?\" he asked, smiling.\n\nThe Hound's mouth gave a twitch. \"I need your boat, not your bloody wit.\" He dismounted, and pulled Arya down beside him. One of the boatmen reached for Stranger's bridle. \"I wouldn't,\" Clegane said, as the horse kicked. The man leapt back, slipped on the rain-slick deck, and crashed onto his arse, cursing.\n\nThe ferryman with the bent back wasn't smiling any longer. \"We can get you across,\" he said sourly. \"It will cost you a gold piece. Another for the horse. A third for the boy.\"\n\n\"Three dragons?\" Clegane gave a bark of laughter. \"For three dragons I should own the bloody ferry.\"\n\n\"Last year, might be you could. But with this river, I'll need extra hands on the poles and oars just to see we don't get swept a hundred miles out to sea. Here's your choice. Three dragons, or you teach that hellhorse how to walk on water.\"\n\n\"I like an honest brigand. Have it your way. Three dragons... when you put us ashore safe on the north bank.\"\n\n\"I'll have them now, or we don't go.\" The man thrust out a thick, callused hand, palm up.\n\nClegane rattled his longsword to loosen the blade in the scabbard. \"Here's your choice. Gold on the north bank, or steel on the south.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The ferryman looked up at the Hound's face. Arya could tell that he didn't like what he saw there. He had a dozen men behind him, strongmen with oars and hardwood poles in their hands, but none of them were rushing forward to help him. Together they could overwhelm Sandor Clegane, though he'd likely kill three or four of them before they took him down. \"How do I know you're good for it?\" the bent-backed man asked, after a moment.\n\nHe's not, she wanted to shout. Instead she bit her lip.\n\n\"Knight's honor,\" the Hound said, unsmiling.\n\nHe's not even a knight. She did not say that either.\n\n\"That will do.\" The ferryman spat. \"Come on then, we can have you across before dark. Tie the horse up, I don't want him spooking when we're underway. There's a brazier in the cabin if you and your son want to get warm.\"\n\n\"I'm not his stupid son!\" said Arya furiously. That was even worse than being taken fora boy. She was so angry that she might have told them who she really was, only Sandor Clegane grabbed her by the back of the collar and hoisted her one-handed off the deck. \"How many times do I need to tell you to shut your bloody mouth?\" He shook her so hard her teeth rattled, then let her fall. \"Get in there and get dry, like the man said.\"\n\nArya did as she was told. The big iron brazier was glowing red, filling the room with a sullen suffocating heat. It felt pleasant to stand beside it, to warm her hands and dry off a little bit, but as soon as she felt the deck move under her feet she slipped back out through the forward door."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The two-headed horse eased slowly through the shallows, picking its way between the chimneys and rooftops of drowned Harroway. A dozen men labored at the oars while four more used the long poles to push off whenever they came too close to a rock, a tree, or a sunken house. The bent-backed man had the rudder. Rain pattered against the smooth planks of the deck and splashed off the tall carved horseheads fore and aft. Arya was getting soaked again, but she didn't care. She wanted to see. The man with the crossbow still stood in the window of the roundtower, she saw. His eyes followed her as the ferry slid by underneath. She wondered if he was this Lord Roote that the Hound had mentioned. He doesn't look much like a lord. But then, she didn't look much like a lady either.\n\nOnce they were beyond the town and out in the river proper, the current grew much stronger. Through the grey haze of rain Arya could make out a tall stone pillar on the far shore that surely marked the ferry landing, but no sooner had she seen it than she realized that they were being pushed away from it, downstream. The oarsmen were rowing more vigorously now, fighting the rage of the river. Leaves and broken branches swirled pastas fast as if they'd been fired from a scorpion. The men with the poles leaned out and shoved away anything that came too close. It was windier out here, too. Whenever she turned to look upstream, Arya got a face full of blowing rain. Stranger was screaming and kicking as the deck moved underfoot.\n\nIf I jumped over the side, the river would wash me away before the Hound even knew that I was gone. She looked back over a shoulder, and saw Sandor Clegane struggling with his frightened horse, trying to calm him. She would never have a better chance to getaway from him. I might drown, though. Jon used to say that she swam like a fish, but even a fish might have trouble in this river. Still, drowning might be better than King's Landing. She thought about Joffrey and crept up to the prow. The river was murky brown with mud and lashed by rain, looking more like soup than water. Arya wondered how cold it would be. I couldn't get much wetter than I am now. She put a hand on the rail."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But a sudden shout snapped her head about before she could leap. The ferrymen were rushing forward, poles in hand. Fora moment she did not understand what was happening. Then she saw it: an uprooted tree, huge and dark, coming straight at them. A tangle of roots and limbs poked up out of the water as it came, like the reaching arms of a great kraken. The oarsmen were backing water frantically, trying to avoid a collision that could capsize them or stove their hull in. The old man had wrenched the rudder about, and the horse at the prow was swinging downstream, but too slowly. Glistening brown and black, the tree rushed toward them like a battering ram.\n\nIt could not have been more than ten feet from their prow when two of the boatmen somehow caught it with their long poles. One snapped, and the long splintering craaaack made it sound as if the ferry were breaking up beneath them. But the second man managed to give the trunk a hard shove, just enough to deflect it away from them. The tree swept past the ferry with inches to spare, its branches scrabbling like claws against the horsehead. Only just when it seemed as if they were clear, one of the monster's upper limbs dealt them a glancing thump. The ferry seemed to shudder, and Arya slipped, landing painfully on one knee. The man with the broken pole was not so lucky. She heard him shout as he stumbled over the side. Then the raging brown water closed over him, and he was gone in the time it took Arya to climb back to her feet. One of the other boatmen snatched up a coil of rope, but there was no one to throw it to.\n\nMaybe he'll wash up someplace downstream, Arya tried to tell herself, but the thought had a hollow ring. She had lost all desire to go swimming. When Sandor Clegane shouted at her to get back inside before he beat her bloody, she went meekly. The ferry was fighting to turn back on course by then, against a river that wanted nothing more than to carry it down to the sea."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When they finally came ashore, it was a good two miles downriver of their usual landing. The boat slammed into the bank so hard that another pole snapped, and Arya almost lost her feet again. Sandor Clegane lifted her onto Stranger's back as if she weighed no more than a doll. The boatmen stared at them with dull, exhausted eyes, all but the bent-backed man, who held his handout. \"Six dragons,\" he demanded. \"Three for the passage, and three for the man I lost.\"\n\nSandor Clegane rummaged in his pouch and shoved a crumpled wad of parchment into the boatman's palm. \"There. Take ten.\"\n\n\"Ten?\" The ferryman was confused. \"What's this, now?\"\n\n\"A dead man's note, good for nine thousand dragons or nearabouts.\" The Hound swung up into the saddle behind Arya, and smiled down unpleasantly. \"Ten of it is yours. I'll be back for the rest one day, so see you don't go spending it.\"\n\nThe man squinted down at the parchment. \"Writing. What good's writing? You promised gold. Knight's honor, you said.\"\n\n\"Knights have no bloody honor. Time you learned that, old man.\" The Hound gave Stranger the spur and galloped off through the rain. The ferrymen threw curses at their backs, and one or two threw stones. Clegane ignored rocks and words alike, and before long they were lost in the gloom of the trees, the river a dwindling roar behind them. \"The ferry won't cross back till morning,\" he said, \"and that lot won't betaking paper promises from the next fools to come along. If your friends are chasing us, they're going to need to be bloody strong swimmers.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya huddled down and held her tongue. Valar morghulis, she thought sullenly. Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei. Dunsen, Poliver, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Gregor and the Tickler. And the Hound, the Hound, the Hound.\n\nBy the time the rain stopped and the clouds broke, she was shivering and sneezing so badly that Clegane called a halt for the night, and even tried to make afire. The wood they gathered proved too wet, though. Nothing he tried was enough to make the spark catch. Finally he kicked it all apart in disgust. \"Seven bloody hells,\" he swore. \"I hate fires.\"\n\nThey sat on damp rocks beneath an oak tree, listening to the slow patter of water dripping from the leaves as they ate a cold supper of hardbread, moldy cheese, and smoked sausage. The Hound sliced the meat with his dagger, and narrowed his eyes when he caught Arya looking at the knife. \"Don't even think about it.\"\n\n\"I wasn't,\" she lied.\n\nHe snorted to show what he thought of that, but he gave her a thick slice of sausage. Arya worried it with her teeth, watching him all the while. \"I never beat your sister,\" the Hound said. \"But I'll beat you if you make me. Stop trying to think up ways to kill me. None of it will do you a bit of good.\"\n\nShe had nothing to say to that. She gnawed on the sausage and stared at him coldly. Hard as stone, she thought.\n\n\"At least you look at my face. I'll give you that, you little she-wolf. How do you like it?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't. It's all burned and ugly.\"\n\nClegane offered her a chunk of cheese on the point of his dagger. \"You're a little fool. What good would it do you if you did getaway? You'd just get caught by someone worse.\"\n\n\"I would not,\" she insisted. \"There is no one worse.\"\n\n\"You never knew my brother. Gregor once killed a man for snoring. His own man.\" When he grinned, the burned side of his face pulled tight, twisting his mouth in a queer unpleasant way. He had no lips on that side, and only the stump of an ear.\n\n\"I did so know your brother.\" Maybe the Mountain was worse, now that Arya thought about it. \"Him and Dunsen and Polliver, and Raff the Sweetling and the Tickler.\"\n\nThe Hound seemed surprised. \"And how would Ned Stark's precious little daughter come to know the likes of them? Gregor never brings his pet rats to court.\"\n\n\"I know them from the village.\" She ate the cheese, and reached fora hunk of hardbread. \"The village by the lake where they caught Gendry, me, and Hot Pie. They caught Lommy Greenhands too, but Raff the Sweetling killed him because his leg was hurt.\"\n\nClegane's mouth twitched. \"Caught you? My brother caught you?\" That made him laugh, a sour sound, part rumble and part snarl. \"Gregor never knew what he had, did he? He couldn't have, or he would have dragged you back kicking and screaming to King's Landing and dumped you in Cersei's lap. Oh, that's bloody sweet. I'll be sure and tell him that, before I cut his heart out.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It wasn't the first time he had talked of killing the Mountain. \"But he's your brother,\" Arya said dubiously.\n\n\"Didn't you ever have a brother you wanted to kill?\" He laughed again. \"Or maybe a sister?\" He must have seen something in her face then, for he leaned closer. \"Sansa. That's it, isn't it? The wolf bitch wants to kill the pretty bird.\"\n\n\"No,\" Arya spat back at him. \"I'd like to kill you.\"\n\n\"Because I hacked your little friend in two? I've killed a lot more than him, I promise you. You think that makes me some monster. Well, maybe it does, but I saved your sister's life too. The day the mob pulled her off her horse, I cut through them and brought her back to the castle, else she would have gotten what Lollys Stokeworth got. And she sang for me. You didn't know that, did you? Your sister sang me a sweet little song.\"\n\n\"You're lying,\" she said at once.\n\n\"You don't know half as much as you think you do. The Blackwater? Wherein seven hells do you think we are? Where do you think we're going?\"\n\nThe scorn in his voice made her hesitate. \"Back to King's Landing,\" she said. \"You're bringing me to Joffrey and the queen.\" That was wrong, she realized all of a sudden, just from the way he asked the questions. But she had to say something.\n\n\"Stupid blind little wolf bitch.\" His voice was rough and hard as an iron rasp. \"Bugger Joffrey, bugger the queen, and bugger that twisted little gargoyle she calls a brother. I'm done with their city, done with their Kingsguard, done with Lannisters. What's a dog to do with lions, I ask you?\" He reached for his waterskin, took along pull. Ashe wiped his mouth, he offered the skin to Arya and said, \"The river was the Trident, girl. The Trident, not the Blackwater. Make the map in your head, if you can. On the morrow we should reach the kingsroad. We'll make good time after that, straight up to the Twins. It's going to be me who hands you over to that mother of yours. Not the noble lightning lord or that flaming fraud of a priest, the monster.\" He grinned at the look on her face. \"You think your outlaw friends are the only ones can smell a ransom? Dondarrion took my gold, so I took you. You're worth twice what they stole from me, I'd say. Maybe even more if I sold you back to the Lannisters like you fear, but I won't. Even a dog gets tired of being kicked. If this Young Wolf has the wits the gods gave a toad, he'll make me a lordling and beg me to enter his service. He needs me, though he may not know it yet. Maybe I'll even kill Gregor for him, he'd like that.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He'll never take you,\" she spat back. \"Not you.\"\n\n\"Then I'll take as much gold as I can carry, laugh in his face, and ride off. If he doesn't take me, he'd be wise to kill me, but he won't. Too much his father's son, from what I hear. Fine with me. Either way I win. And so do you, she-wolf. So stop whimpering and snapping at me, I'm sick of it. Keep your mouth shut and do as I tell you, and maybe we'll even be in time for your uncle's bloody wedding.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JON\n\nThe mare was blown, but Jon could not letup on her. He had to reach the Wall before the Magnar. He would have slept in the saddle if he'd had one; lacking that, it was hard enough to stay ahorse while awake. His wounded leg grew evermore painful. He dare not rest long enough to let it heal. Instead he ripped it open anew each time he mounted up.\n\nWhen he crested arise and saw the brown rutted kingsroad before him wending its way north through hill and plain, he patted the mare's neck and said, \"Now all we need do is follow the road, girl. Soon the Wall.\" His leg had gone as stiff as wood by then, and fever had made him so light-headed that twice he found himself riding in the wrong direction.\n\nSoon the Wall. He pictured his friends drinking mulled wine in the common hall. Hobb would be with his kettles, Donal Noye at his forge, Maester Aemon in his rooms beneath the rookery. And the Old Bear? Sam, Grenn, Dolorous Edd, Dywen with his wooden teeth... Jon could only pray that some had escaped the Fist.\n\nYgritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body... and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat. You were wrong to love her, a voice whispered. You were wrong to leave her, a different voice insisted. He wondered if his father had been torn the same way, when he'd left Jon's mother to return to Lady Catelyn. He was pledged to Lady Stark, and I am pledged to the Night's Watch.\n\nHe almost rode through Mole's Town, so feverish that he did not know where he was. Most of the village was hidden underground, only a handful of small hovels to be seen by the light of the waning moon. The brothel was ashed no bigger than a privy, its red lantern creaking in the wind, a bloodshot eye peering through the blackness. Jon dismounted at the adjoining stable, half-stumbling from the mare's back as he shouted two boys awake. \"I need afresh mount, with saddle and bridle,\" he told them, in atone that brooked no argument. They brought him that; a skin of wine as well, and half a loaf of brown bread. \"Wake the village,\" he told them. \"Warn them. There are wildlings south of the Wall. Gather your goods and make for Castle Black.\" He pulled himself onto the black gelding they'd given him, gritting his teeth at the pain in his leg, and rode hard for the north."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As the stars began to fade in the eastern sky, the Wall appeared before him, rising above the trees and the morning mists. Moonlight glimmered pale against the ice. He urged the gelding on, following the muddy slick road until he saw the stone towers and timbered halls of Castle Black huddled like broken toys beneath the great cliff of ice. By then the Wall glowed pink and purple with the first light of dawn.\n\nNo sentries challenged him as he rode past the outbuildings. No one came forth to bar his way. Castle Black seemed as much a ruin as Greyguard. Brown brittle weeds grew between cracks in the stones of the courtyards. Old snow covered the roof of the Flint Barracks and lay in drifts against the north side of Hardin's Tower, where Jon used to sleep before being made the Old Bear's steward. Fingers of soot streaked the Lord Commander's Tower where the smoke had boiled from the windows. Mormont had moved to the King's Tower after the fire, but Jon saw no lights there either. From the ground he could not tell if there were sentries walking the Wall seven hundred feet above, but he saw no one on the huge switchback stair that climbed the south face of the ice like some great wooden thunderbolt.\n\nThere was smoke rising from the chimney of the armory, though; only a wisp, almost invisible against the grey northern sky, but it was enough. Jon dismounted and limped toward it. Warmth poured out the open door like the hot breath of summer. Within, one-armed Donal Noye was working his bellows at the fire. He looked up at the noise. \"Jon Snow?\"\n\n\"None else.\" Despite fever, exhaustion, his leg, the Magnar, the old man, Ygritte, Mance, despite it all, Jon smiled. It was good to be back, good to see Noye with his big belly and pinned-up sleeve, his jaw bristling with black stubble."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The smith released his grip on the bellows. \"Your face...\"\n\nHe had almost forgotten about his face. \"A skinchanger tried to rip out my eye.\"\n\nNoye frowned. \"Scarred or smooth, it's a face I thought I'd seen the last of. We heard you'd gone over to Mance Raydar.\"\n\nJon grasped the door to stay upright. \"Who told you that?\"\n\n\"Jarman Buckwell. He returned a fortnight past. His scouts claim they saw you with their own eyes, riding along beside the wildling column and wearing a sheepskin cloak.\" Noye eyed him. \"I seethe last part's true.\"\n\n\"It's all true,\" Jon confessed. \"As far as it goes.\"\n\n\"Should I be pulling down a sword to gut you, then?\"\n\n\"No. I was acting on orders. Qhorin Halfhand's last command. Noye, where is the garrison?\"\n\n\"Defending the Wall against your wildling friends.\"\n\n\"Yes, but where?\"\n\n\"Everywhere. Harma Dogshead was seen at Woodswatch-by-the-Pool, Rattleshirt at Long Barrow, the Weeper near Icemark. All along the Wall... they're here, they're there, they're climbing near Queensgate, they're hacking at the gates of Greyguard, they're massing against Eastwatch... but one glimpse of a black cloak and they're gone. Next day they're somewhere else.\"\n\nJon swallowed a groan. \"Feints. Mance wants us to spread ourselves thin, don't you see?\" And Bowen Marsh has obliged him. \"The gate is here. The attack is here.\"\n\nNoye crossed the room. \"Your leg is drenched in blood.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon looked down dully. It was true. His wound had opened again. \"An arrow wound...\"\n\n\"A wildling arrow.\" It was not a question. Noye had only one arm, but that was thick with muscle. He slid it under Jon's to help support him. \"You're white as milk, and burning hot besides. I'm taking you to Aemon.\"\n\n\"There's no time. There are wildlings south of the Wall, coming up from Queenscrown to open the gate.\"\n\n\"How many?\" Noye half-carried Jon out the door.\n\n\"A hundred and twenty, and well armed for wildlings. Bronze armor, some bits of steel. How many men are left here?\"\n\n\"Forty odd,\" said Donal Noye. \"The crippled and infirm, and some green boys still in training.\"\n\n\"If Marsh is gone, who did he name as castellan?\"\n\nThe armorer laughed. \"Ser Wynton, gods preserve him. Last knight in the castle and all. The thing is, Stout seems to have forgotten and no one's been rushing to remind him. I suppose I'm as much a commander as we have now. The meanest of the cripples.\"\n\nThat was for the good, at least. The one-armed armorer was hardheaded, tough, and well seasoned in war. Ser Wynton Stout, on the other hand... well, he had been a good man once, everyone agreed, but he had been eighty years a ranger, and both strength and wits were gone. Once he'd fallen asleep at supper and almost drowned in a bowl of pea soup.\n\n\"Where's your wolf?\" Noye asked as they crossed the yard.\n\n\"Ghost. I had to leave him when I climbed the Wall. I'd hoped he'd make his way back here.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm sorry, lad. There's been no sign of him.\" They limped up to the maester's door, in the long wooden keep beneath the rookery. The armorer gave it a kick. \"Clydas!\"\n\nAfter a momenta stooped, round-shouldered little man in black peered out. His small pink eyes widened at the sight of Jon. \"Lay the lad down, I'll fetch the maester.\"\n\nAfire was burning in the hearth, and the room was almost stuffy. The warmth made Jon sleepy. As soon as Noye eased him down onto his back, he closed his eyes to stop the world from spinning. He could hear the ravens quork ing and complaining in the rookery above. \"Snow,\" one bird was saying. \"Snow, snow, snow.\" That was Sam's doing, Jon remembered. Had Samwell Tarly made it home safely, he wondered, or only the birds?\n\nMaester Aemon was not long incoming. He moved slowly, one spotted hand on Clydas's arm as he shuffled forward with small careful steps. Around his thin neck his chain hung heavy, gold and silver links glinting amongst iron, lead, tin, and other base metals. \"Jon Snow,\" he said, \"you must tell me all you've seen and done when you are stronger. Donal, put a kettle of wine on the fire, and my irons as well. I will want them red-hot. Clydas, I shall need that good sharp knife of yours.\" The maester was more than a hundred years old; shrunken, frail, hairless, and quite blind. But if his milky eyes saw nothing, his wits were still as sharp as they had ever been.\n\n\"There are wildlings coming,\" Jon told him, as Clydas ran a blade up the leg of his breeches, slicing the heavy black cloth, crusty with old blood and sodden with new. \"From the south. We climbed the Wall...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Maester Aemon gave Jon's crude bandage a sniff when Clydas cut it away."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We?\"\n\n\"I was with them. Qhorin Halfhand commanded me to join them.\" Jon winced as the maester's finger explored his wound, poking and prodding. \"The Magnar of Thenn-aaaaah, that hurts.\" He clenched his teeth. \"Where is the Old Bear?\"\n\n\"Jon... it grieves me to say, but Lord Commander Mormont was murdered at Craster's Keep, at the hands of his Sworn Brothers.\"\n\n\"Bro... our own men?\" Aemon's words hurt a hundred times worse than his fingers. Jon remembered the Old Bear as last he'd seen him, standing before his tent with his raven on his arm croaking for corn. Mormont gone? He had feared it ever since he'd seen the aftermath of battle on the Fist, yet it was no less a blow. \"Who was it? Who turned on him?\"\n\n\"Garth of Oldtown, Ollo Lophand, Dirk... thieves, cowards and killers, the lot of them. We should have seen it coming. The Watch is not what it was. Too few honest men to keep the rogues inline.\" Donal Noye turned the maester's blades in the fire. \"A dozen true men made it back. Dolorous Edd, Giant, your friend the Aurochs. We had the tale from them.\"\n\nOnly a dozen? Two hundred men had left Castle Black with Lord Commander Mormont, two hundred of the Watch's best. \"Does this mean Marsh is Lord Commander, then?\" The Old Pomegranate was amiable, and a diligent First Steward, but he was woefully ill-suited to face a wildling host.\n\n\"For the nonce, until we can hold a choosing,\" said Maester Aemon. \"Clydas, bring me the flask.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A choosing. With Qhorin Halfhand and Ser Jaremy Rykker both dead and Ben Stark still missing, who was there? Not Bowen Marsh or Ser Wynton Stout, that was certain. Had Thoren Smallwood survived the Fist, or Ser Ottyn Wythers? No, it will be Cotter Pyke or Ser Denys Mallister. Which, though? The commanders at the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch were good men, but very different; Ser Denys courtly and cautious, as chivalrous as he was elderly, Pyke younger, bastard-born, rough-tongued, and bold to a fault. Worse, the two men despised each other. The Old Bear had always kept them far apart, at opposite ends of the Wall. The Mallisters had a bone-deep mistrust of the ironborn, Jon knew.\n\nA stab of pain reminded him of his own woes. The maester squeezed his hand. \"Clydas is bringing milk of the poppy.\"\n\nJon tried to rise. \"I don't need-\"\n\n\"You do,\" Aemon said firmly. \"This will hurt.\"\n\nDonal Noye crossed the room and shoved Jon back onto his back. \"Be still, or I'll tie you down.\" Even with only one arm, the smith handled him as if he were a child. Clydas returned with a green flask and a rounded stone cup. Maester Aemon poured it full. \"Drink this.\"\n\nJon had bitten his lip in his struggles. He could taste blood mingled with the thick, chalky potion. It was all he could do not to retch it backup.\n\nClydas brought a basin of warm water, and Maester Aemon washed the pus and blood from his wound. Gentle as he was, even the lightest touch made Jon want to scream. \"The Magnar's men are disciplined, and they have bronze armor,\" he told them. Talking helped keep his mind off his leg."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Magnar's a lord on Skagos,\" Noye said. \"There were Skagossons at Eastwatch when I first came to the Wall, I remember hearing them talk of him.\"\n\n\"Jon was using the word in its older sense, I think,\" Maester Aemon said, \"not as a family name but as a title. It derives from the Old Tongue.\"\n\n\"It means lord,\" Jon agreed. \"Styr is the Magnar of someplace called Thenn, in the far north of the Frostfangs. He has a hundred of his own men, and a score of raiders who know the Gift almost as well as we do. Mance never found the horn, though, that's something. The Horn of Winter, that's what he was digging for up along the Milkwater.\"\n\nMaester Aemon paused, washcloth in hand. \"The Horn of Winter is an ancient legend. Does the King-beyond-the-Wall truly believe that such a thing exists?\"\n\n\"They all do,\" said Jon. \"Ygritte said they opened a hundred graves... graves of kings and heroes, allover the valley of the Milkwater, but they never...\"\n\n\"Who is Ygritte?\" Donal Noye asked pointedly.\n\n\"A woman of the free folk.\" How could he explain Ygritte to them? She's warm and smart and funny and she can kiss a manor slit his throat. \"She's with Styr, but she's not... she's young, only a girl, in truth, wild, but she...\" She killed an old man for building afire. His tongue felt thick and clumsy. The milk of the poppy was clouding his wits. \"I broke my vows with her. I never meant to, but...\" It was wrong. Wrong to love her, wrong to leave her...\"I wasn't strong enough. The Halfhand commanded me, ride with them, watch, I must not balk, I...\" His head felt as if it were packed with wet wool."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Maester Aemon sniffed Jon's wound again."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then he put the bloody cloth back in the basin and said, \"Donal, the hot knife, if you please. I shall need you to hold him still.\"\n\nI will not scream, Jon told himself when he saw the blade glowing red hot. But he broke that vow as well. Donal Noye held him down, while Clydas helped guide the maester's hand. Jon did not move, except to pound his fist against the table, again and again and again. The pain was so huge he felt small and weak and helpless inside it, a child whimpering in the dark. Ygritte, he thought, when the stench of burning flesh was in his nose and his own shriek echoing in her ears. Ygritte, I had to. For half a heartbeat the agony started to ebb. But then the iron touched him once again, and he fainted.\n\nWhen his eyelids fluttered open, he was wrapped in thick wool and floating. He could not seem to move, but that did not matter. Fora time he dreamed that Ygritte was with him, tending him with gentle hands. Finally he closed his eyes and slept.\n\nThe next waking was not so gentle. The room was dark, but under the blankets the pain was back, a throbbing in his leg that turned into a hot knife at the least motion. Jon learned that the hard way when he tried to see if he still had a leg. Gasping, he swallowed a scream and made another fist.\n\n\"Jon?\" A candle appeared, and a well-remembered face was looking down on him, big ears and all. \"You shouldn't move.\"\n\n\"Pyp?\" Jon reached up, and the other boy clasped his hand and gave it a squeeze. \"I thought you'd gone...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"... with the Old Pomegranate? No, he thinks I'm too small and green. Grenn's here too.\"\n\n\"I'm here too.\" Grenn stepped to the other side of the bed. \"I fell asleep.\"\n\nJon's throat was dry. \"Water,\" he gasped. Grenn brought it, and held it to his lips. \"I saw the Fist,\" he said, after along swallow. \"The blood, and the dead horses... Noye said a dozen made it back... who?\"\n\n\"Dywen did. Giant, Dolorous Edd, Sweet Donnel Hill, Ulmer, Left Hand Lew, Garth Greyfeather. Four or five more. Me.\"\n\n\"Sam?\"\n\nGrenn looked away. \"He killed one of the Others, Jon. I saw it. He stabbed him with that dragonglass knife you made him, and we started calling him Sam the Slayer. He hated that.\"\n\nSam the Slayer. Jon could hardly imagine a less likely warrior than Sam Tarly. \"What happened to him?\"\n\n\"We left him.\" Grenn sounded miserable. \"I shook him and screamed at him, even slapped his face. Giant tried to drag him to his feet, but he was too heavy. Remember in training how he'd curl upon the ground and lie there whimpering? At Craster's he wouldn't even whimper. Dirk and Ollo were tearing up the walls looking for food, Garth and Garth were fighting, some of the others were raping Craster's wives. Dolorous Edd figured Dirk's bunch would kill all the loyal men to keep us from telling what they'd done, and they had us two to one. We left Sam with the Old Bear. He wouldn't move, Jon.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You were his brother, he almost said. How could you leave him amongst wildlings and murderers?\n\n\"He might still be alive,\" said Pyp. \"He might surprise us all and come riding up tomorrow.\"\n\n\"With Mance Rayder's head, aye.\" Grenn was trying to sound cheerful, Jon could tell. \"Sam the Slayer!\"\n\nJon tried to sit again. It was as much a mistake as the first time. He cried out, cursing.\n\n\"Grenn, go wake Maester Aemon,\" said Pyp. \"Tell him Jon needs more milk of the poppy.\"\n\nYes, Jon thought. \"No,\" he said. \"The Magnar...\"\n\n\"We know,\" said Pyp. \"The sentries on the Wall have been told to keep one eye on the south, and Donal Noye dispatched some men to Weatherback Ridge to watch the kingsroad. Maester Aemon's sent birds to Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower too.\"\n\nMaester Aemon shuffled to the bedside, one hand on Grenn's shoulder. \"Jon, be gentle with yourself. It is good that you have woken, but you must give yourself time to heal. We drowned the wound with boiling wine, and closed you up with a poultice of nettle, mustard seed and moldy bread, but unless you rest...\"\n\n\"I can't.\" Jon fought through the pain to sit. \"Mance will be here soon... thousands of men, giants, mammoths... has word been sent to Winterfell? To the king?\" Sweat dripped off his brow. He closed his eyes a moment.\n\nGrenn gave Pyp a strange look. \"He doesn't know.\"\n\n\"Jon,\" said Maester Aemon, \"much and more happened while you were away, and little of it good. Balon Greyjoy has crowned himself again and sent his longships against the north. Kings sprout like weeds at every hand and we have sent appeals to all of them, yet none will come. They have more pressing uses for their swords, and we are far off and forgotten. And Winterfell... Jon, be strong... Winterfell is no more...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No more?\" Jon stared at Aemon's white eyes and wrinkled face. \"My brothers are at Winterfell. Bran and Rickon...\"\n\nThe maester touched his brow. \"I am so very sorry, Jon. Your brothers died at the command of Theon Greyjoy, after he took Winterfell in his father's name. When your father's bannermen threatened to retake it, he put the castle to the torch.\"\n\n\"Your brothers were avenged,\" Grenn said. \"Bolton's son killed all the ironmen, and it's said he's flaying Theon Greyjoy inch by inch for what he did.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Jon.\" Pyp squeezed his shoulder. \"We are all.\"\n\nJon had never liked Theon Greyjoy, but he had been their father's ward. Another spasm of pain twisted up his leg, and the next he knew he was flat on his back again. \"There's some mistake,\" he insisted. \"At Queenscrown I saw a direwolf, a grey direwolf... grey... it knew me.\" If Bran was dead, could some part of him live on in his wolf, as Orell lived within his eagle?\n\n\"Drink this.\" Grenn held a cup to his lips. Jon drank. His head was full of wolves and eagles, the sound of his brothers'laughter. The faces above him began to blur and fade. They can't be dead. Theon would never do that. And Winterfell... grey granite, oak andiron, crows wheeling around the towers, steam rising off the hot pools in the godswood, the stone kings sitting on their thrones... how could Winterfell begone?\n\nWhen the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father's face. Ygritte was with him, laughing at him, shedding her skins till she was naked as her name day, trying to kiss him, but he couldn't, not with his father watching. He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night's Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not. \"You know nothing, Jon Snow,\" she whispered, her skin dissolving in the hot water, the flesh beneath sloughing off her bones until only skull and skeleton remained, and the pool bubbled thick and red."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "CATELYN\n\nThey heard the Green Fork before they saw it, an endless susurrus, like the growl of some great beast. The river was a boiling torrent, half again as wide as it had been last year, when Robb had divided his army here and vowed to take a Frey to bride as the price of his crossing. He needed Lord Walder and his bridge then, and he needs them even more now. Catelyn's heart was full of misgivings as she watched the murky green waters swirl past. There is noway we will ford this, nor swim across, and it could be a moon's turn before these waters fall again.\n\nAs they neared the Twins, Robb donned his crown and summoned Catelyn and Edmure to ride beside him. Ser Raynald Westerling bore his banner, the direwolf of Stark on its ice-white field.\n\nThe gatehouse towers emerged from the rain like ghosts, hazy grey apparitions that grew more solid the closer they rode. The Frey stronghold was not one castle but two; mirror images in wet stone standing on opposite sides of the water, linked by a great arched bridge. From the center of its span rose the Water Tower, the river running straight and swift below. Channels had been cut from the banks, to form moats that made each twin an island. The rains had turned the moats to shallow lakes.\n\nAcross the turbulent waters, Catelyn could see several thousand men encamped around the eastern castle, their banners hanging like so many drowned cats from the lances outside their tents. The rain made it impossible to distinguish colors and devices. Most were grey, it seemed to her, though beneath such skies the whole world seemed grey.\n\n\"Tread lightly here, Robb,\" she cautioned her son. \"Lord Walder has a thin skin and a sharp tongue, and some of these sons of his will doubtless take after their father. You must not let yourself be provoked.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know the Freys, Mother. I know how much I wronged them, and how much I need them. I shall be as sweet as a septon.\"\n\nCatelyn shifted her seat uncomfortably. \"If we are offered refreshment when we arrive, on no account refuse. Take what is offered, and eat and drink where all can see. If nothing is offered, ask for bread and cheese and a cup of wine.\"\n\n\"I'm more wet than hungry...\"\n\n\"Robb, listen tome. Once you have eaten of his bread and salt, you have the guest right, and the laws of hospitality protect you beneath his roof.\"\n\nRobb looked more amused than afraid. \"I have an army to protect me, Mother, I don't need to trust in bread and salt. But if it pleases Lord Walder to serve me stewed crow smothered in maggots, I'll eat it and ask fora second bowl.\"\n\nFour Freys rode out from the western gatehouse, wrapped in heavy cloaks of thick grey wool. Catelyn recognized Ser Ryman, son of the late Ser Stevron, Lord Walder's firstborn. With his father dead, Ryman was heir to the Twins. The face she saw beneath his hood was fleshy, broad, and stupid. The other three were likely his own sons, Lord Walder's great grandsons.\n\nEdmure confirmed as much. \"Edwyn is eldest, the pale slender man with the constipated look. The wiry one with the beard is Black Walder, a nasty bit of business. Petyr is on the bay, the lad with the unfortunate face. Petyr Pimple, his brothers call him. Only a year or two older than Robb, but Lord Walder married him off at ten to a woman thrice his age. Gods, I hope Roslin doesn't take after him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They halted to let their hosts come to them. Robb's banner drooped on its staff, and the steady sound of rainfall mingled with the rush of the swollen Green Fork on their right. Grey Wind edged forward, tail stiff, watching through slitted eyes of dark gold. When the Freys were a half-dozen yards away Catelyn heard him growl, a deep rumble that seemed almost one with rush of the river. Robb looked startled. \"Grey Wind, tome. Tome!\"\n\nInstead the direwolf leapt forward, snarling.\n\nSer Ryman's palfrey shied off with a whinny of fear, and Petyr Pimple's reared and threw him. Only Black Walder kept his mount in hand. He reached for the hilt of his sword. \"No!\" Robb was shouting. \"Grey Wind, here. Here.\" Catelyn spurred between the direwolf and the horses. Mud spattered from the hooves of her mare as she cut in front of Grey Wind. The wolf veered away, and only then seemed to hear Robb calling.\n\n\"Is this how a Stark makes amends?\" Black Walder shouted, with naked steel in hand. \"A poor greeting I call it, to set your wolf upon us. Is this why you've come?\"\n\nSer Ryman had dismounted to help Petyr Pimple back to his feet. The lad was muddy, but unhurt.\n\n\"I've come to make my apology for the wrong I did your House, and to see my uncle wed.\" Robb swung down from the saddle. \"Petyr, take my horse. Yours is almost back to the stable.\"\n\nPetyr looked to his father and said, \"I can ride behind one of my brothers.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Freys made no sign of obeisance. \"You come late,\" Ser Ryman declared.\n\n\"The rains delayed us,\" said Robb. \"I sent a bird.\"\n\n\"I do not seethe woman.\"\n\nBy the woman Ser Ryman meant Jeyne Westerling, all knew. Lady Catelyn smiled apologetically. \"Queen Jeyne was weary after so much travel, sers. No doubt she will be pleased to visit when times are more settled.\"\n\n\"My grandfather will be displeased.\" Though Black Walder had sheathed his sword, his tone was no friendlier. \"I've told him much of the lady, and he wished to behold her with his own eyes.\"\n\nEdwyn cleared his throat. \"We have chambers prepared for you in the Water Tower, Your Grace,\" he told Robb with careful courtesy, \"as well as for Lord Tully and Lady Stark. Your lords bannermen are also welcome to shelter under our roof and partake of the wedding feast.\"\n\n\"And my men?\" asked Robb.\n\n\"My lord grandfather regrets that he cannot feed nor house so large a host. We have been sore pressed to find fodder and provender for our own levies. Nonetheless, your men shall not be neglected. If they will cross and setup their camp beside our own, we will bring out enough casks of wine and ale for all to drink the health of Lord Edmure and his bride. We have thrown up three great feast tents on the far bank, to provide them with some shelter from the rains.\"\n\n\"Your lord father is most kind. My men will thank him. They have had along wet ride.\"\n\nEdmure Tully edged his horse forward. \"When shall I meet my betrothed?\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Co-write with the author and continue the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 51"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Freys made no sign of obeisance. \"You come late,\" Ser Ryman declared.\n\n\"The rains delayed us,\" said Robb. \"I sent a bird.\"\n\n\"I do not seethe woman.\"\n\nBy the woman Ser Ryman meant Jeyne Westerling, all knew. Lady Catelyn smiled apologetically. \"Queen Jeyne was weary after so much travel, sers. No doubt she will be pleased to visit when times are more settled.\"\n\n\"My grandfather will be displeased.\" Though Black Walder had sheathed his sword, his tone was no friendlier. \"I've told him much of the lady, and he wished to behold her with his own eyes.\"\n\nEdwyn cleared his throat. \"We have chambers prepared for you in the Water Tower, Your Grace,\" he told Robb with careful courtesy, \"as well as for Lord Tully and Lady Stark. Your lords bannermen are also welcome to shelter under our roof and partake of the wedding feast.\"\n\n\"And my men?\" asked Robb.\n\n\"My lord grandfather regrets that he cannot feed nor house so large a host. We have been sore pressed to find fodder and provender for our own levies. Nonetheless, your men shall not be neglected. If they will cross and setup their camp beside our own, we will bring out enough casks of wine and ale for all to drink the health of Lord Edmure and his bride. We have thrown up three great feast tents on the far bank, to provide them with some shelter from the rains.\"\n\n\"Your lord father is most kind. My men will thank him. They have had along wet ride.\"\n\nEdmure Tully edged his horse forward. \"When shall I meet my betrothed?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"She waits for you within,\" promised Edwyn Frey."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You will forgive her if she seems shy, I know. She has been awaiting this day most anxiously, poor maid. But perhaps we might continue this out of the rain?\"\n\n\"Truly.\" Ser Ryman mounted up again, pulling Petyr Pimple up behind him. \"If you would follow me, my father awaits.\" He turned the palfrey's head back towrd the Twins.\n\nEdmure fell in beside Catelyn. \"The Late Lord Frey might have seen fit to welcome us in person,\" he complained. \"I am his liege lord as well as his son-to-be, and Robb's his king.\"\n\n\"When you are one-and-ninety, Brother, see how eager you are to go riding in the rain.\" Yet she wondered if that was the whole truth of it. Lord Walder normally went about in a covered litter, which would have kept the worst of the rain off him. A deliberate slight? If so, it might be the first of many yet to come.\n\nThere was more trouble at the gatehouse. Grey Wind balked in the middle of the drawbridge, shook the rain off, and howled at the portcullis. Robb whistled impatiently. \"Grey Wind. What is it? Grey Wind, with me.\" But the direwolf only bared his teeth. He does not like this place, Catelyn thought. Robb had to squat and speak softly to the wolf before he would consent to pass beneath the portcullis. By then Lame Lothar and Walder Rivers had come up. \"It's the sound of the water he fears,\" Rivers said. \"Beasts know to avoid the river in flood.\"\n\n\"A dry kennel and a leg of mutton will see him right again,\" said Lothar cheerfully. \"Shall I summon our master of hounds?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"He's a direwolf, not a dog,\" said Robb, \"and dangerous to men he does not trust."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Raynald, stay with him. I won't take him into Lord Walder's hall like this.\"\n\nDeftly done, Catelyn decided. Robb keeps the Westerling out of Lord Walder's sight as well.\n\nGout and brittle bones had taken their toll of old Walder Frey. They found him propped up in his high seat with a cushion beneath him and an ermine robe across his lap. His chair was black oak, its back carved into the semblance of two stout towers joined by an arched bridge, so massive that its embrace turned the old man into a grotesque child. There was something of the vulture about Lord Walder, and rather more of the weasel. His bald head, spotted with age, thrust out from his scrawny shoulders on along pink neck. Loose skin dangled beneath his receding chin, his eyes were runny and clouded, and his toothless mouth moved constantly, sucking at the empty air as a babe sucks at his mother's breast.\n\nThe eighth Lady Frey stood beside Lord Walder's high seat. At his feet sat a somewhat younger version of himself, a stooped thin man of fifty whose costly garb of blue wool and grey satin was strangely accented by a crown and collar ornamented with tiny brass bells. The likeness between him and his lord was striking, save for their eyes; Lord Frey's small, dim, and suspicious, the other's large, amiable, and vacant. Catelyn recalled that one of Lord Walder's brood had fathered a halfwit long years ago. During past visits, the Lord of the Crossing had always taken care to hide this one away. Did he always wear a fool's crown, or is that meant as mockery of Robb? It was a question she dare not ask."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Frey sons, daughters, children, grandchildren, husbands, wives and servants crowded the rest of the hall. But it was the old man who spoke. \"You will forgive me if I do not kneel, I know. My legs no longer work as they did, though that which hangs between \"em serves well enough, heh.\" His mouth split in a toothless smile as he eyed Robb's crown. \"Some would say it's a poor king who crowns himself with bronze, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"Bronze andiron are stronger than gold and silver,\" Robb answered. \"The old Kings of Winter wore such a sword-crown.\"\n\n\"Small good it did them when the dragons came. Heh.\" That heh seemed to please the lackwit, who bobbed his head from side to side, jingling crown and collar. \"Sire,\" Lord Walder said, \"forgive my Aegon the noise. He has less wits than a crannogman, and he's never meta king before. One of Stevron's boys. We call him Jinglebell.\"\n\n\"Ser Stevron mentioned him, my lord.\" Robb smiled at the lackwit. \"Well met, Aegon. Your father was a brave man.\"\n\nJinglebell jingled his bells. A thin line of spit ran from one corner of his mouth when he smiled.\n\n\"Save your royal breath. You'd do as well talking to a chamberpot.\" Lord Walder shifted his gaze to the others. \"Well, Lady Catelyn, I see you have returned to us. And young Ser Edmure, the victor of the Stone Mill. Lord Tully now, I'll need to remember that. You're the fifth Lord Tully I've known. I outlived the other four, heh. Your bride's about here somewhere. I suppose you want a look at her.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I would, my lord.\"\n\n\"Then you'll have it. But clothed. She's a modest girl, and a maid. You won't see her naked till the bedding.\" Lord Walder cackled. \"Heh. Soon enough, soon enough.\" He craned his head about. \"Benfrey, go fetch your sister. Be quick about it, Lord Tully's come all the way from Riverrun.\" A young knight in a quartered surcoat bowed and took his leave, and the old man turned back to Robb. \"And where's your bride, Your Grace? The fair Queen Jeyne. A Westerling of the Crag, I'm told, heh.\"\n\n\"I left her at Riverrun, my lord. She was too weary for more travel, as we told Ser Ryman.\"\n\n\"That makes me grievous sad. I wanted to behold her with mine own weak eyes. We all did, heh. Isn't that so, my lady?\"\n\nPale wispy Lady Frey seemed startled that she would be called upon to speak. \"Y-yes, my lord. We all so wanted to pay homage to Queen Jeyne. She must be fair to look on.\"\n\n\"She is most fair, my lady.\" There was an icy stillness in Robb's voice that reminded Catelyn of his father.\n\nThe old man either did not hear it or refused to pay it any heed. \"Fairer than my own get, heh? Elsewise how could her face and form have made the King's Grace forget his solemn promise.\"\n\nRobb suffered the rebuke with dignity. \"No words can set that right, I know, but I have come to make my apologies for the wrong I did your House, and to beg for your forgiveness, my lord.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Apologies, heh. Yes, you vowed to make one, I recall. I'm old, but I don't forget such things. Not like some kings, it seems. The young remember nothing when they see a pretty face and a nice firm pair of teats, isn't that so? I was the same. Some might say I still am, heh heh. They'd be wrong, though, wrong as you were. But now you're hereto make amends. It was my girls you spurned, though. Mayhaps it's them should hear you beg for pardon, Your Grace. My maiden girls. Here, have a look at them.\" When he waggled his fingers, a flurry of femininity left their places by the walls to lineup beneath the dais. Jinglebell started to rise as well, his bells ringing merrily, but Lady Frey grabbed the lackwit's sleeve and tugged him back down.\n\nLord Walder named the names. \"My daughter Arwyn,\" he said of a girl of fourteen. \"Shirei, my youngest trueborn daughter. Ami and Marianne are granddaughters. I married Ami to Ser Pate of Sevenstreams, but the Mountain killed the oaf so I got her back. That's a Cersei, but we call her Little Bee, her mother's a Beesbury. More granddaughters. One's a Walda, and the others... well, they have names, whatever they are...\"\n\n\"I'm Merry, Lord Grandfather,\" one girl said.\n\n\"You're noisy, that's for certain. Next to Noisy is my daughter Tyta. Then another Walda. Alyx, Marissa... are you Marissa? I thought you were. She's not always bald. The maester shaved her hair off, but he swears it will soon grow back. The twins are Serra and Sarra.\" He squinted down atone of the younger girls. \"Heh, are you another Walda?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The girl could not have been more than four."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm Ser Aemon Rivers's Walda, lord great grandfather.\" She curtsied.\n\n\"How long have you been talking? Not that you're like to have anything sensible to say, your father never did. He's a bastard's son besides, heh. Go away, I wanted only Freys up here. The King in the North has no interest in base stock.\" Lord Walder glanced to Robb, as Jinglebell bobbed his head and chimed. \"There they are, all maidens. Well, and one widow, but there's some who like a woman broken in. You might have had anyone of them.\"\n\n\"It would have been an impossible choice, my lord,\" said Robb with careful courtesy. \"They're all too lovely.\"\n\nLord Walder snorted. \"And they say my eyes are bad. Some will do well enough, I suppose. Others... well, it makes no matter. They weren't good enough for the King in the North, heh. Now what is it you have to say?\"\n\n\"My ladies.\" Robb looked desperately uncomfortable, but he had known this moment must come, and he faced it without flinching. \"All men should keep their word, kings most of all. I was pledged to marry one of you and I broke that vow. The fault is not in you. What I did was not done to slight you, but because I loved another. No words can set it right, I know, yet I come before you to ask forgiveness, that the Freys of the Crossing and the Starks of Winterfell may once again befriends.\"\n\nThe smaller girls fidgeted anxiously. Their older sisters waited for Lord Walder on his black oak throne. Jinglebell rocked back and forth, bells chiming on collar and crown."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Good,\" the Lord of the Crossing said. \"That was very good, Your Grace. \"No words can set it right,\" heh. Well said, well said. At the wedding feast I hope you will not refuse to dance with my daughters. It would please an old man's heart, heh.\" He bobbed his wrinkled pink head up and down, in much the same way his lackwit grandson did, though Lord Walder wore no bells. \"And here she is, Lord Edmure. My daughter Roslin, my most precious little blossom, heh.\"\n\nSer Benfrey led her into the hall. They looked enough alike to be full siblings. Judging from their age, both were children of the sixth Lady Frey; a Rosby, Catelyn seemed to recall.\n\nRoslin was small for her years, her skin as white as if she had just risen from a milk bath. Her face was comely, with a small chin, delicate nose, and big brown eyes. Thick chestnut hair fell in loose waves to a waist so tiny that Edmure would be able to put his hands around it. Beneath the lacy bodice of her pale blue gown, her breasts looked small but shapely.\n\n\"Your Grace.\" The girl went to her knees. \"Lord Edmure, I hope I am not a disappointment to you.\"\n\nFar from it, thought Catelyn. Her brother's face had lit up at the sight of her. \"You area delight tome, my lady,\" Edmure said. \"And ever will be, I know.\"\n\nRoslin had a small gap between two of her front teeth that made her shy with her smiles, but the flaw was almost endearing. Pretty enough, Catelyn thought, but so small, and she comes of Rosby stock. The Rosbys had never been robust. She much preferred the frames of some of the older girls in the hall; daughters or granddaughters, she could not be sure. They had a Crakehall look about them, and Lord Walder's third wife had been of that House. Wide hips to bear children, big breasts to nurse them, strong arms to carry them. The Crakehalls have always been a big-boned family, and strong."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My lord is kind,\" the Lady Roslin said to Edmure.\n\n\"My lady is beautiful.\" Edmure took her hand and drew her to her feet. \"But why are you crying?\"\n\n\"For joy,\" Roslin said. \"I weep for joy, my lord.\"\n\n\"Enough,\" Lord Walder broke in. \"You may weep and whisper after you're wed, heh. Benfrey, see your sister back to her chambers, she has a wedding to prepare for. And a bedding, heh, the sweetest part. For all, for all.\" His mouth moved in and out. \"We'll have music, such sweet music, and wine, heh, the red will run, and we'll put some wrongs aright. But now you're weary, and wet as well, dripping on my floor. There's fires waiting for you, and hot mulled wine, and baths if you want'em. Lothar, show our guests to their quarters.\"\n\n\"I need to see my men across the river, my lord,\" Robb said.\n\n\"They shan't get lost,\" Lord Walder complained. \"They're crossed before, haven't they? When you came down from the north. You wanted crossing and I gave it to you, and you never said mayhaps, heh. But suit yourself. Lead each man across by the hand if you like, it's naught tome.\"\n\n\"My lord!\" Catelyn had almost forgotten. \"Some food would be most welcome. We have ridden many leagues in the rain.\"\n\nWalder Frey's mouth moved in and out. \"Food, heh. A loaf of bread, a bite of cheese, mayhaps a sausage.\"\n\n\"Some wine to wash it down,\" Robb said. \"And salt.\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bread and salt. Heh. Of course, of course.\" The old man clapped his hands together, and servants came into the hall, bearing flagons of wine and trays of bread, cheese, and butter. Lord Walder took a cup of red himself, and raised it high with a spotted hand. \"My guests,\" he said. \"My honored guests. Be welcome beneath my roof, and at my table.\"\n\n\"We thank you for your hospitality, my lord,\" Robb replied. Edmure echoed him, along with the Greatjon, Ser Marq Piper, and the others. They drank his wine and ate his bread and butter. Catelyn tasted the wine and nibbled at some bread, and felt much the better for it. Now we should be safe, she thought.\n\nKnowing how petty the old man could be, she had expected their rooms to be bleak and cheerless. But the Freys had made more than ample provision for them, it seemed. The bridal chamber was large and richly appointed, dominated by a great featherbed with corner posts carved in the likeness of castle towers. Its draperies were Tully red and blue, a nice courtesy. Sweet-smelling carpets covered a plank floor, and a tall shuttered window opened to the south. Catelyn's own room was smaller, but handsomely furnished and comfortable, with afire burning in the hearth. Lame Lothar assured them that Robb would have an entire suite, as befit a king. \"If there is anything you require, you need only tell one of the guards.\" He bowed and withdrew, limping heavily as he made his way down the curving steps.\n\n\"We should post our own guards,\" Catelyn told her brother. She would rest easier with Stark and Tully men outside her door. The audience with Lord Walder had not been as painful as she feared, yet all the same she would be glad to be done with this. A few more days, and Robb will be off to battle, and me to a comfortable captivity at Seagard. Lord Jason would show her every courtesy, she had no doubt, but the prospect still depressed her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She could hear the sounds of horses below as the long column of mounted men wound their way across the bridge from castle to castle. The stones rumbled to the passage of heavy-laden wayns. Catelyn went to the window and gazed out, to watch Robb's host emerge from the eastern twin. \"The rain seems to be lessening.\"\n\n\"Now that we're inside.\" Edmure stood before the fire, letting the warmth wash over him. \"What did you make of Roslin?\"\n\nToo small and delicate. Childbirth will go hard on her. But her brother seemed well pleased with the girl, so all she said was, \"Sweet.\"\n\n\"I believe she liked me. Why was she crying?\"\n\n\"She's a maid on the eve of her wedding. A few tears are to be expected.\" Lysa had wept lakes the morning of their own wedding, though she had managed to be dry-eyed and radiant when Jon Arryn swept his cream-and-blue cloak about her shoulders.\n\n\"She's prettier than I dared hope.\" Edmure raised a hand before she could speak. \"I know there are more important things, spare me the sermon, septa. Even so... did you see some of those other maids Frey trotted out? The one with the twitch? Was that the shaking sickness? And those twins had more craters and eruptions on their faces than Petyr Pimple. When I saw that lot, I knew Roslin would be bald and one-eyed, with Jinglebell's wits and Black Walder's temper. But she seems gentle as well as fair.\" He looked perplexed. \"Why would the old weasel refuse to let me choose unless he meant to foist off someone hideous?\"\n\n\"Your fondness fora pretty face is well known,\" Catelyn reminded him. \"Perhaps Lord Walder actually wants you to be happy with your bride.\" Or more like, he did not want you balking over a boil and upsetting all his plans. \"Or it maybe that Roslin is the old man's favorite. The Lord of Riverrun is a much better match than most of his daughters can hope for.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"True.\" Her brother still seemed uncertain, however. \"Is it possible the girl is barren?\"\n\n\"Lord Walder wants his grandson to inherit Riverrun. How would it serve him to give you a barren wife?\"\n\n\"It rids him of a daughter no one else would take.\"\n\n\"Small good that will do him. Walder Frey is a peevish man, not a stupid one.\"\n\n\"Still... it is possible?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Catelyn conceded, reluctantly. \"There are illnesses a girl can have in childhood that leave her unable to conceive. There's no reason to believe that Lady Roslin was so afflicted, though.\" She looked round the room. \"The Freys have received us more kindly than I had anticipated, if truth be told.\"\n\nEdmure laughed. \"A few barbed words and some unseemly gloating. From him that's courtesy. I expected the old weasel to piss in our wine and make us praise the vintage.\"\n\nThe jest left Catelyn strangely disquieted. \" If you will excuse me, I should change from these wet clothes.\n\n\"As you wish.\" Edmure yawned. \"I may nap an hour.\"\n\nShe retreated to her own room. The chest of clothes she'd brought from Riverrun had been carried up and laid at the foot of the bed. After she'd undressed and hung her wet clothing by the fire, she donned a warm wool dress of Tully red and blue, washed and brushed her hair and let it dry, and went in search of Freys.\n\nLord Walder's black oak throne was empty when she entered the hall, but some of his sons were drinking by the fire. Lame Lothar rose clumsily when he saw her. \"Lady Catelyn, I thought you would be resting. How may I be of service?\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Are these your brothers?\" she asked.\n\n\"Brothers, half-brothers, good brothers, and nephews. Raymund and I shared a mother. Lord Lucias Vypren is my half-sister Lythene's husband, and Ser Damon is their son. My half-brother Ser Hosteen I believe you know. And this is Ser Leslyn Haigh and his sons, Ser Harys and Ser Donnel.\"\n\n\"Well met, sers. Is Ser Perwyn about? He helped escort me to Storm's End and back, when Robb sent me to speak with Lord Renly. I was looking forward to seeing him again.\"\n\n\"Perwyn is away,\" Lame Lothar said. \"I shall give him your regards. I know he will regret having missed you.\"\n\n\"Surely he will return in time for Lady Roslin's wedding?\"\n\n\"He had hoped to,\" said Lame Lothar, \"but with this rain... you saw how the rivers ran, my lady.\"\n\n\"I did indeed,\" said Catelyn. \"I wonder if you would be so good as to direct me to your maester?\"\n\n\"Are you unwell, my lady?\" asked Ser Hosteen, a powerful man with a square strong jaw.\n\n\"A woman's complaint. Nothing to concern you, ser.\"\n\nLothar, ever gracious, escorted her from the hall, up some steps, and across a covered bridge to another stair. \"You should find Maester Brenett in the turret on the top, my lady.\"\n\nCatelyn half expected that the maester would be yet another son of Walder Frey's, but Brenett did not have the look. He was a great fat man, bald and double-chinned and none too clean, to judge from the raven droppings that stained the sleeves of his robes, yet he seemed amiable enough. When she told him of Edmure's concerns about Lady Roslin's fertility, he chuckled. \"Your lord brother need have no fear, Lady Catelyn. She's small, I'll grant you, and narrow in the hips, but her mother was the same, and Lady Bethany gave Lord Walder a child every year.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"How many lived past infancy?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "she asked bluntly.\n\n\"Five.\" He ticked them off on fingers plump as sausages. \"Ser Perwyn. Ser Benfrey. Maester Willamen, who took his vows last year and now serves Lord Hunter in the Vale. Olyvar, who squired for your son. And Lady Roslin, the youngest. Four boys to one girl. Lord Edmure will have more sons than he knows what to do with.\"\n\n\"I am sure that will please him.\" So the girl was like to be fertile as well as fair of face. That should put Edmure's mind at ease. Lord Walder had left her brother no cause for complaint, so far as she could see.\n\nCatelyn did not return to her own room after leaving the maester; instead she went to Robb. She found Robin Flint and Ser Wendel Manderly with him, along with the Greatjon and his son, who was still called the Smalljon though he threatened to overtop his father. They were all damp. Another man, still wetter, stood before the fire in a pale pink cloak trimmed with white fur. \"Lord Bolton,\" she said.\n\n\"Lady Catelyn,\" he replied, his voice faint, \"it is a pleasure to look on you again, even in such trying times.\"\n\n\"You are kind to say so.\" Catelyn could feel gloom in the room. Even the Greatjon seemed somber and subdued. She looked at their grim faces and said, \"What's happened?\"\n\n\"Lannisters on the Trident,\" said Ser Wendel unhappily. \"My brother is taken again.\"\n\n\"And Lord Bolton has brought us further word of Winterfell,\" Robb added. \"Ser Rodrik was not the only good man to die. Cley Cerwyn and Leobald Tallhart were slain as well.\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Cley Cerwyn was only a boy,\" she said, saddened. \"Is this true, then? All dead, and Winterfell gone?\"\n\nBolton's pale eyes met her own. \"The ironmen burned both castle and winter town. Some of your people were taken back to the Dreadfort by my son, Ramsay.\"\n\n\"Your bastard was accused of grievous crimes,\" Catelyn reminded him sharply. \"Of murder, rape, and worse.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Roose Bolton said. \"His blood is tainted, that cannot be denied. Yet he is a good fighter, as cunning as he is fearless. When the ironmen cut down Ser Rodrik, and Leobald Tallhart soon after, it fell to Ramsay to lead the battle, and he did. He swears that he shall not sheathe his sword so long as a single Greyjoy remains in the north. Perhaps such service might atone in some small measure for whatever crimes his bastard blood has led him to commit.\" He shrugged. \"Or not. When the war is done, His Grace must weigh and judge. By then I hope to have a trueborn son by Lady Walda.\"\n\nThis is a cold man, Catelyn realized, not for the first time.\n\n\"Did Ramsay mention Theon Greyjoy?\" Robb demanded. \"Was he slain as well, or did he flee?\"\n\nRoose Bolton removed a ragged strip of leather from the pouch at his belt. \"My son sent this with his letter.\"\n\nSer Wendel turned his fat face away. Robin Flint and Smalljon Umber exchanged a look, and the Greatjon snorted like a bull. \"Is that... skin?\" said Robb.\n\n\"The skin from the little finger of Theon Greyjoy's left hand. My son is cruel, I confess it. And yet... what is a little skin, against the lives of two young princes? You were their mother, my lady. May I offer you this... small token of revenge?\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Part of Catelyn wanted to clutch the grisly trophy to her heart, but she made herself resist. \"Put it away. Please.\"\n\n\"Flaying Theon will not bring my brothers back,\" Robb said. \"I want his head, not his skin.\"\n\n\"He is Balon Greyjoy's only living son,\" Lord Bolton said softly, as if they had forgotten, \"and now rightful King of the Iron Islands. A captive king has great value as a hostage.\"\n\n\"Hostage?\" The word raised Catelyn's hackles. Hostages were oft exchanged. \"Lord Bolton, I hope you are not suggesting that we free the man who killed my sons.\"\n\n\"Whoever wins the Seastone Chair will want Theon Greyjoy dead,\" Bolton pointed out. \"Even in chains, he has a better claim than any of his uncles. Hold him, I say, and demand concessions from the ironborn as the price of his execution.\"\n\nRobb considered that reluctantly, but in the end he nodded. \"Yes. Very well. Keep him alive, then. For the present. Hold him secure at the Dreadfort till we've retaken the north.\"\n\nCatelyn turned back to Roose Bolton. \"Ser Wendel said something of Lannisters on the Trident?\"\n\n\"He did, my lady. I blame myself. I delayed too long before leaving Harrenhal. Aenys Frey departed several days before me and crossed the Trident at the ruby ford, though not without difficulty. But by the time we came up the river was a torrent. I had no choice but to ferry my men across in small boats, of which we had too few. Two-thirds of my strength was on the north side when the Lannisters attacked those still waiting to cross. Norrey, Locke, and Burley men chiefly, with Ser Wylis Manderly and his White Harbor knights as rearguard. I was on the wrong side of the Trident, powerless to help them. Ser Wylis rallied our men as best he could, but Gregor Clegane attacked with heavy horse and drove them into the river. As many drowned as were cut down. More fled, and the rest were taken captive.\""
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gregor Clegane was always ill news, Catelyn reflected. Would Robb need to march south again to deal with him? Or was the Mountain coming here? \"Is Clegane across the river, then?\"\n\n\"No.\" Bolton's voice was soft, but certain. \"I left six hundred men at the ford. Spearmen from the rills, the mountains, and the White Knife, a hundred Hornwood longbows, some freeriders and hedge knights, and a strong force of Stout and Cerwyn men to stiffen them. Ronnel Stout and Ser Kyle Condon have the command. Ser Kyle was the late Lord Cerwyn's right hand, as I'm sure you know; my lady. Lions swim no better than wolves. So long as the river runs high, Ser Gregor will not cross.\"\n\n\"The last thing we need is the Mountain at our backs when we startup the causeway,\" said Robb. \"You did well, my lord.\"\n\n\"Your Grace is too kind. I suffered grievous losses on the Green Fork, and Glover and Tallhart worse at Duskendale.\"\n\n\"Duskendale.\" Robb made the word a curse. \"Robett Glover will answer for that when I see him, I promise you.\"\n\n\"A folly,\" Lord Bolton agreed, \"but Glover was heedless after he learned that Deepwood Motte had fallen. Grief and fear will do that to a man.\"\n\nDuskendale was done and cold; it was the battles still to come that worried Catelyn. \"How many men have you brought my son?\" she asked Roose Bolton pointedly.\n\nHis queer colorless eyes studied her face a moment before he answered. \"Some five hundred horse and three thousand foot, my lady. Dreadfort men, in chief, and some from Karhold. With the loyalty of the Karstarks so doubtful now, I thought it best to keep them close. I regret there are not more.\""
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"value": "\"It should be enough,\" said Robb. \"You will have command of my rearguard, Lord Bolton. I mean to start for the Neck as soon as my uncle has been wedded and bedded. We're going home.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "ARYA\n\nThe outriders came on them an hour from the Green Fork, as the wayn was slogging down a muddy road.\n\n\"Keep your head down and your mouth shut,\" the Hound warned her as the three spurred toward them; a knight and two squires, lightly armored and mounted on fast palfreys. Clegane cracked his whip at the team, a pair of old drays that had known better days. The wayn was creaking and swaying, its two huge wooden wheels squeezing mud up out of the deep ruts in the road with every turn. Stranger followed, tied to the wagon.\n\nThe big bad-tempered courser wore neither armor, barding, nor harness, and the Hound himself was garbed in splotchy green roughspun and a soot-grey mantle with a hood that swallowed his head. So long as he kept his eyes down you could not see his face, only the whites of his eyes peering out. He looked like some down-at-heels farmer. A big farmer, though. And under the roughspun was boiled leather and oiled mail, Arya knew. She looked like a farmer's son, or maybe a swineherd. And behind them were four squat casks of salt pork and one of pickled pigs\" feet.\n\nThe riders split and circled them fora look before they came up close. Clegane drew the wayn to a halt and waited patiently on their pleasure. The knight bore spear and sword while his squires carried longbows. The badges on their jerkins were smaller versions of the sigil sewn on their master's surcoat; a black pitchfork on a golden bar sinister, upon a russet field. Arya had thought of revealing herself to the first outriders they encountered, but she had always pictured grey-cloaked men with the direwolf on their breasts. She might have risked it even if they'd worn the Umber giant or the Glover fist, but she did not know this pitchfork knight or whom he served. The closest thing to a pitchfork she had ever seen at Winterfell was the trident in the hand of Lord Manderly's merman."
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"value": "\"You have business at the Twins?\" the knight asked.\n\n\"Salt pork for the wedding feast, if it please you, ser.\" The Hound mumbled his reply, his eyes down, his face hidden.\n\n\"Salt pork never pleases me.\" The pitchfork knight gave Clegane only the most cursory glance, and paid no attention at all to Arya, but he looked long and hard at Stranger. The stallion was no plow horse, that was plain at a glance. One of the squires almost wound up in the mud when the big black courser bit at his own mount. \"How did you come by this beast?\" the pitchfork knight demanded.\n\n\"M'lady told me to bring him, ser,\" Clegane said humbly. \"He's a wedding gift for young Lord Tully.\"\n\n\"What lady? Who is it you serve?\"\n\n\"Old Lady Whent, ser.\"\n\n\"Does she think she can buy Harrenhal back with a horse?\" the knight asked. \"Gods, is there any fool like an old fool?\" Yet he waved them down the road. \"Goon with you, then.\"\n\n\"Aye, m'lord.\" The Hound snapped his whip again, and the old drays resumed their weary trek. The wheels had settled deep into the mud during the halt, and it took several moments for the team to pull them free again. By then the outriders were riding off. Clegane gave them one last look and snorted. \"Ser Donnel Haigh,\" he said. \"I've taken more horses off him than I can count. Armor as well. Once I near killed him in a mêlée.\"\n\n\"How come he didn't know you, then?\" Arya asked.\n\n\"Because knights are fools, and it would have been beneath him to look twice at some poxy peasant.\" He gave the horses a lick with the whip. \"Keep your eyes down and your tone respectful and say ser a lot, and most knights will never see you. They pay more mind to horses than to smallfolk. He might have known Stranger if he'd ever seen me ride him.\""
},
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"value": "He would have known your face, though."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya had no doubt of that. Sandor Clegane's burns would not be easy to forget, once you saw them. He couldn't hide the scars behind a helm, either; not so long as the helm was made in the shape of a snarling dog.\n\nThat was why they'd needed the wayn and the pickled pigs\" feet. \"I'm not going to be dragged before your brother in chains,\" the Hound had told her, \"and I'd just as soon not have to cut through his men to get to him. So we play a little game.\"\n\nA farmer chance-met on the kingsroad had provided them with wayn, horses, garb, and casks, though not willingly. The Hound had taken them at swordpoint. When the farmer cursed him fora robber, he said, \"No, a forager. Be grateful you get to keep your smallclothes. Now take those boots off. Or I'll take your legs off. Your choice.\" The farmer was as big as Clegane, but all the same he chose to give up his boots and keep his legs.\n\nEvenfall found them still trudging toward the Green Fork and Lord Frey's twin castles. I am almost there, Arya thought. She knew she ought to be excited, but her belly was all knotted uptight. Maybe that was just the fever she'd been fighting, but maybe not. Last night she'd had a bad dream, a terrible dream. She couldn't remember what she'd dreamed of now, but the feeling had lingered all day. If anything, it had only gotten stronger. Fear cuts deeper than swords. She had to be strong now, the way her father told her. There was nothing between her and her mother but a castle gate, a river, and an army... but it was Robb's army, so there was no real danger there. Was there?"
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"value": "Roose Bolton was one of them, though. The Leech Lord, as the outlaws called him. That made her uneasy. She had fled Harrenhal to getaway from Bolton as much as from the Bloody Mummers, and she'd had to cut the throat of one of his guards to escape. Did he know she'd done that? Or did he blame Gendry or Hot Pie? Would he have told her mother? What would he do if he saw her? He probably won't even know me. She looked more like a drowned rat than a lord's cupbearer these days. A drowned boy rat. The Hound had hacked handfuls of her hair off only two days past. He was an even worse barber than Yoren, and he'd left her half bald on one side. Robb won't know me either, I bet. Or even Mother. She had been a little girl the last time she saw them, the day Lord Eddard Stark left Winterfell.\n\nThey heard the music before they saw the castle; the distant rattle of drums, the brazen blare of horns, the thin skirling of pipes faint beneath the growl of the river and the sound of the rain beating on their heads. \"We've missed the wedding,\" the Hound said, \"but it sounds as though the feast is still going. I'll be rid of you soon.\"\n\nNo, I'll be rid of you, Arya thought.\n\nThe road had been running mostly northwest, but now it turned due west between an apple orchard and afield of drowned corn beaten down by the rain. They passed the last of the apple trees and crested arise, and the castles, river, and camps all appeared at once. There were hundreds of horses and thousands of men, most of them milling about the three huge feast tents that stood side by side facing the castle gates, like three great canvas longhalls. Robb had made his camp well back from the walls, on higher, drier ground, but the Green Fork had overflown its bank and even claimed a few carelessly placed tents."
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"value": "The music from the castles was louder here. The sound of the drums and horns rolled across the camp. The musicians in the nearer castle were playing a different song than the ones in the castle on the far bank, though, so it sounded more like a battle than a song. \"They're not very good,\" Arya observed.\n\nThe Hound made a sound that might have been a laugh. \"There's old deaf women in Lannisport complaining of the din, I'll warrant. I'd heard Walder Frey's eyes were failing, but no one mentioned his bloody ears.\"\n\nArya found herself wishing it were day. If the sun was out and the wind was blowing, she would have been able to seethe banners better. She would have looked for the direwolf of Stark, or maybe the Cerwyn battleaxe or the Glover fist. But in the gloom of night all the colors looked grey. The rain had dwindled down to a fine drizzle, almost a mist, but an earlier downpour had left the banners wet as dishrags, sodden and unreadable.\n\nA hedge of wagons and carts had been drawn up along the perimeter to make a crude wooden wall against any attack. That was where the guards stopped them. The lantern their sergeant carried shed enough light for Arya to see that his cloak was a pale pink, spotted with red teardrops. The men under him had the Leech Lord's badge sewn over their hearts, the flayed man of the Dreadfort. Sandor Clegane gave them the same tale he'd used on the outriders, but the Bolton sergeant was a harder sort of nut than Ser Donnel Haigh had been. \"Salt pork's no fit meat fora lord's wedding feast,\" he said scornfully.\n\n\"Got pickled pigs' feet too, ser.\""
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"value": "\"Not for the feast, you don't. The feast's half done. And I'm a northman, not some milksuck southron knight.\"\n\n\"I was told to seethe steward, or the cook...\"\n\n\"Castle's closed. The lordlings are not to be disturbed.\" The sergeant considered a moment. \"You can unload by the feast tents, there.\" He pointed with a mailed hand. \"Ale makes a man hungry, and old Frey won't miss a few pigs'feet. He don't have the teeth for such anyhow. Ask for Sedgekins, he'll know what's to be done with you.\" He barked a command, and his men rolled one of the wagons aside for them to enter.\n\nThe Hound's whip spurred the team toward the tents. No one seemed to pay them any mind. They splashed past rows of brightly colored pavilions, their walls of wet silk lit up like magic lanterns by lamps and braziers inside; pink and gold and green they glimmered, striped and fretty and chequy, emblazoned with birds and beasts, chevrons and stars, wheels and weapons. Arya spotted a yellow tent with six acrons on its panels, three over two over one. Lord Smallwood, she knew, remembering Acorn Hall so faraway, and the lady who'd said she was pretty.\n\nBut for every shimmering silk pavilion there were two dozen of felt or canvas, opaque and dark. There were barracks tents too, big enough to shelter two score footsoldiers, though even those were dwarfed by the three great feast tents. The drinking had been going on for hours, it seemed. Arya heard shouted toasts and the clash of cups, mixed in with all the usual camp sounds, horses whinnying and dogs barking, wagons rumbling through the dark, laughter and curses, the clank and clatter of steel and wood. The music grew still louder as they approached the castle, but under that was a deeper, darker sound: the river, the swollen Green Fork, growling like a lion in its den."
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"value": "Arya twisted and turned, trying to look everywhere at once, hoping fora glimpse of a direwolf badge, fora tent done up in grey and white, fora face she knew from Winterfell. All she saw were strangers. She stared at a man relieving himself in the reeds, but he wasn't Alebelly. She saw a half-dressed girl burst from a tent laughing, but the tent was pale blue, not grey like she'd thought at first, and the man who went running after her wore a treecat on his doublet, not a wolf. Beneath a tree, four archers were slipping waxed strings over the notches of their longbows, but they were not her father's archers. A maester crossed their path, but he was too young and thin to be Maester Luwin. Arya gazed up at the Twins, their high tower windows glowing softly wherever alight was burning. Through the haze of rain, the castles looked spooky and mysterious, like something from one of Old Nan's tales, but they weren't Winterfell.\n\nThe press was thickest at the feast tents. The wide flaps were tied back, and men were pushing in and outwith drinking horns and tankards in their hands, some with camp followers. Arya glanced inside as the Hound drove past the first of the three, and saw hundreds of men crowding the benches and jostling around the casks of mead and ale and wine. There was hardly room to move inside, but none of them seemed to mind. At least they were warm and dry. Cold wet Arya envied them. Some were even singing. The fine misty rain was steaming all around the door from the heat escaping from inside. \"Here's to Lord Edmure and Lady Roslin,\" she heard a voice shout. They all drank, and someone yelled, \"Here's to the Young Wolf and Queen Jeyne.\""
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"value": "Who is Queen Jeyne? Arya wondered briefly. The only queen she knew was Cersei.\n\nFirepits had been dug outside the feast tents, sheltered beneath rude canopies of woven wood and hides that kept the rain out, so long as it fell straight down. The wind was blowing off the river, though, so the drizzle came in anyway, enough to make the fires hiss and swirl. Serving men were turning joints of meat on spits above the flames. The smells made Arya's mouth water. \"Shouldn't we stop?\" she asked Sandor Clegane. \"There's northmen in the tents.\" She knew them by their beards, by their faces, by their cloaks of bearskin and sealskin, by their half-heard toasts and the songs they sang; Karstarks and Umbers and men of the mountain clans. \"I bet there are Winterfell men too.\" Her father's men, the Young Wolf's men, the direwolves of Stark.\n\n\"Your brother will be in the castle,\" he said. \"Your mother too. You want them or not?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said. \"What about Sedgekins?\" The sergeant had told them to ask for Sedgekins.\n\n\"Sedgekins can bugger himself with a hot poker.\" Clegane shook out his whip, and sent it hissing through the soft rain to bite at a horse's flank. \"It's your bloody brother I want.\""
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"value": "CATELYN\n\nThe drums were pounding, pounding, pounding, and her head with them. Pipes wailed and flutes trilled from the musicians' gallery at the foot of the hall; fiddles screeched, horns blew, the skins skirled a lively tune, but the drumming drove them all. The sounds echoed off the rafters, whilst the guests ate, drank, and shouted atone another below. Walder Frey must be deaf as a stone to call this music. Catelyn sipped a cup of wine and watched Jinglebell prance to the sounds of'Alysanne.\" At least she thought it was meant to be'Alysanne.\" With these players, it might as easily have been'The Bear and the Maiden Fair.\"\n\nOutside the rain still fell, but within the Twins the air was thick and hot. Afire roared in the hearth and rows of torches burned smokily from iron sconces on the walls. Yet most of the heat came off the bodies of the wedding guests, jammed in so thick along the benches that every man who tried to lift his cup poked his neighbor in the ribs.\n\nEven on the dais they were closer than Catelyn would have liked. She had been placed between Ser Ryman Frey and Roose Bolton, and had gotten a good noseful of both. Ser Ryman drank as if Westeros was about to run short of wine, and sweated it all out under his arms. He had bathed in lemonwater, she judged, but no lemon could mask so much sour sweat. Roose Bolton had a sweeter smell to him, yet no more pleasant. He sipped hippocras in preference to wine or mead, and ate but little.\n\nCatelyn could not fault him for his lack of appetite. The wedding feast began with a thin leek soup, followed by a salad of green beans, onions, and beets, river pike poached in almond milk, mounds of mashed turnips that were cold before they reached the table, jellied calves'brains, and a leche of stringy beef. It was poor fare to set before a king, and the calves\" brains turned Catelyn's stomach. Yet Robb ate it uncomplaining, and her brother was too caught up with his bride to pay much attention."
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"value": "You would never guess Edmure complained of Roslin all the way from Riverrun to the Twins. Husband and wife ate from a single plate, drank from a single cup, and exchanged chaste kisses between sips. Most of the dishes Edmure waved away. She could not blame him for that. She remembered little of the food served at her own wedding feast. Did I even taste it? Or spend the whole time gazing at Ned's face, wondering who he was?\n\nPoor Roslin's smile had a fixed quality to it, as if someone had sewn it onto her face. Well, she is a maid wedded, but the bedding's yet to come. No doubt she's as terrified as I was. Robb was seated between Alyx Frey and Fair Walda, two of the more nubile Frey maidens. \"At the wedding feast I hope you will not refuse to dance with my daughters,\" Walder Frey had said. \"It would please an old man's heart.\" His heart should be well pleased, then; Robb had done his duty like a king. He had danced with each of the girls, with Edmure's bride and the eighth Lady Frey, with the widow Ami and Roose Bolton's wife Fat Walda, with the pimply twins Serra and Sarra, even with Shirei, Lord Walder's youngest, who must have been all of six. Catelyn wondered whether the Lord of the Crossing would be satisfied, or if he would find cause for complaint in all the other daughters and granddaughters who had not had a turn with the king. \"Your sisters dance very well,\" she said to Ser Ryman Frey, trying to be pleasant.\n\n\"They're aunts and cousins.\" Ser Ryman drank a swallow of wine, the sweat trickling down his cheek into his beard."
},
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"value": "A sour man, and in his cups, Catelyn thought. The Late Lord Frey might be niggardly when it came to feeding his guests, but he did not stint on the drink. The ale, wine, and mead were flowing as fast as the river outside. The Greatjon was already roaring drunk. Lord Walder's son Merrett was matching him cup for cup, but Ser Whalen Frey had passed out trying to keep up with the two of them. Catelyn would sooner Lord Umber had seen fit to stay sober, but telling the Greatjon not to drink was like telling him not to breathe fora few hours.\n\nSmalljon Umber and Robin Flint sat near Robb, to the other side of Fair Walda and Alyx, respectively. Neither of them was drinking; along with Patrek Mallister and Dacey Mormont, they were her son's guards this evening. A wedding feast was not a battle, but there were always dangers when men were in their cups, and a king should never be unguarded. Catelyn was glad of that, and even more glad of the swordbelts hanging on pegs along the walls. No man needs a longsword to deal with jellied calves\" brains.\n\n\"Everyone thought my lord would choose Fair Walda,\" Lady Walda Bolton told Ser Wendel, shouting to be heard above the music. Fat Walda was around pink butterball of a girl with watery blue eyes, limp yellow hair, and a huge bosom, yet her voice was a fluttering squeak. It was hard to picture her in the Dreadfort in her pink lace and cape of vair. \"My lord grandfather offered Roose his bride's weight in silver as a dowry, though, so my lord of Bolton picked me.\" The girl's chins jiggled when she laughed. \"I weigh six stone more than Fair Walda, but that was the first time I was glad of it. I'm Lady Bolton now and my cousin's still a maid, and she'll be nineteen soon, poor thing.\""
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"value": "The Lord of the Dreadfort paid the chatter no mind, Catelyn saw. Sometimes he tasted a bite of this, a spoon of that, tearing bread from the loaf with short strong fingers, but the meal could not distract him. Bolton had made a toast to Lord Walder's grandsons when the wedding feast began, pointedly mentioning that Walder and Walder were in the care of his bastard son. From the way the old man had squinted at him, his mouth sucking at the air, Catelyn knew he had heard the unspoken threat.\n\nWas there ever a wedding less joyful? she wondered, until she remembered her poor Sansa and her marriage to the Imp. Mother take mercy on her. She has a gentle soul. The heat and smoke and noise were making her sick. The musicians in the gallery might be numerous and loud, but they were not especially gifted. Catelyn took another swallow of wine and allowed a page to refill her cup. A few more hours, and the worst will be over. By this hour tomorrow Robb would be off to another battle, this time with the ironmen at Moat Cailin. Strange, how that prospect seemed almost a relief. He will win his battle. He wins all his battles, and the ironborn are without a king. Besides, Ned taught him well. The drums were pounding. Jinglebell hopped past her once again, but the music was so loud she could scarcely hear his bells.\n\nAbove the din came a sudden snarling as two dogs fell upon each other over a scrap of meat. They rolled across the floor, snapping and biting, as a howl of mirth went up. Someone doused them with a flagon of ale and they broke apart. One limped toward the dais. Lord Walder's toothless mouth opened in a bark of laughter as the dripping wet dog shook ale and hair allover three of his grandsons."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The sight of the dogs made Catelyn wish once more for Grey Wind, but Robb's direwolf was nowhere to be seen."
},
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"value": "Lord Walder had refused to allow him in the hall. \"Your wild beast has a taste for human flesh, I hear, heh,\" the old man had said. \"Rips out throats, yes. I'll have no such creature at my Roslin's feast, amongst women and little ones, all my sweet innocents.\"\n\n\"Grey Wind is no danger to them, my lord,\" Robb protested. \"Not so long as I am there.\"\n\n\"You were thereat my gates, were you not? When the wolf attacked the grandsons I sent to greet you? I heard all about that, don't think I didn't, heh.\"\n\n\"No harm was done-\"\n\n\"No harm, the king says? No harm? Petyr fell from his horse, fell. I lost a wife the same way, falling.\" His mouth worked in and out. \"Or was she just some strumpet? Bastard Walder's mother, yes, now I recall. She fell off her horse and cracked her head. What would Your Grace do if Petyr had broken his neck, heh? Give me another apology in place of a grandson? No, no, no. Might be you're king, I won't say you're not, the King in the North, heh, but under my roof, my rule. Have your wolf or have your wedding, sire. You'll not have both.\"\n\nCatelyn could tell that her son was furious, but he yielded with as much courtesy as he could summon. If it pleases Lord Walder to serve me stewed crow smothered in maggots, he'd told her, I'll eat it and ask fora second bowl. And so he had.\n\nThe Greatjon had drunk another of Lord Walder's brood under the table, Petyr Pimple this time. The lad has a third his capacity, what did he expect? Lord Umber wiped his mouth, stood, and began to sing. \"A bear there was, a bear, a BEAR! All black and brown and covered with hair!\" His voice was not at all bad, though somewhat thick from drink. Unfortunately the fiddlers and drummers and flutists up above were playing'Flowers of Spring,\" which suited the words of'The Bear and the Maiden Fair\" as well as snails might suit a bowl of porridge. Even poor Jinglebell covered his ears at the cacophony."
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Roose Bolton murmured some words too soft to hear and went off in search of a privy. The cramped hall was in a constant uproar of guests and servants coming and going. A second feast, for knights and lords of somewhat lesser rank, was roaring along in the other castle, she knew. Lord Walder had exiled his baseborn children and their offspring to that side of the river, so that Robb's northmen had taken to referring to it as'the bastard feast.\" Some guests were no doubt stealing off to see if the bastards were having a better time than they were. Some might even be venturing as far as the camps. The Freys had provided wagons of wine, ale, and mead, so the common soldiers could drink to the wedding of Riverrun and the Twins.\n\nRobb sat down in Bolton's vacant place. \"A few more hours and this farce is done, Mother,\" he said in a low voice, as the Greatjon sang of the maid with honey in her hair. \"Black Walder's been mild as a lamb for once. And Uncle Edmure seems well content in his bride.\" He leaned across her. \"Ser Ryman?\"\n\nSer Ryman Frey blinked and said, \"Sire. Yes?\"\n\n\"I'd hoped to ask Olyvar to squire for me when we march north,\" said Robb, \"but I do not see him here. Would he beat the other feast?\"\n\n\"Olyvar?\" Ser Ryman shook his head. \"No. Not Olyvar. Gone... gone from the castles. Duty.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Robb's tone suggested otherwise. When Ser Ryman offered nothing more, the king got to his feet again. \"Would you care fora dance, Mother?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you, but no.\" A dance was the last thing she needed, the way her head was throbbing. \"No doubt one of Lord Walder's daughters would be pleased to partner you.\"\n\n\"Oh, no doubt.\" His smile was resigned.\n\nThe musicians were playing'Iron Lances\" by then, while the Greatjon sang'The Lusty Lad.\" Someone should acquaint them with each other, it might improve the harmony. Catelyn turned back to Ser Ryman. \"I had heard that one of your cousins was a singer.\"\n\n\"Alesander. Symond's son. Alyx is his sister.\" He raised a cup toward where she danced with Robin Flint.\n\n\"Will Alesander be playing for us tonight?\"\n\nSer Ryman squinted at her. \"Not him. He's away.\" He wiped sweat from his brow and lurched to his feet. \"Pardons, my lady. Pardons.\" Catelyn watched him stagger toward the door.\n\nEdmure was kissing Roslin and squeezing her hand. Elsewhere in the hall, Ser Marq Piper and Ser Danwell Frey played a drinking game, Lame Lothar said something amusing to Ser Hosteen, one of the younger Freys juggled three daggers fora group of giggly girls, and Jinglebell sat on the floor sucking wine off his fingers. The servers were bringing out huge silver platters piled high with cuts of juicy pink lamb, the most appetizing dish they'd seen all evening. And Robb was leading Dacey Mormont in a dance.\n\nWhen she wore a dress in place of a hauberk, Lady Maege's eldest daughter was quite pretty; tall and willowy, with ashy smile that made her long face light up. It was pleasant to see that she could be as graceful on the dance floor as in the training yard. Catelyn wondered if Lady Maege had reached the Neck as yet. She had taken her other daughters with her, but as one of Robb's battle companions Dacey had chosen to remain by his side. He has Ned's gift for inspiring loyalty. Olyvar Frey had been devoted to her son as well. Hadn't Robb said that Olyvar wanted to remain with him even after he'd married Jeyne?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Seated betwixt his black oak towers, the Lord of the Crossing clapped his spotted hands together. The noise they made was so faint that even those on the dais scarce heard it, but Ser Aenys and Ser Hosteen saw and began to pound their cups on the table. Lame Lothar joined them, then Marq Piper and Ser Danwell and Ser Raymund. Half the guests were soon pounding. Finally even the mob of musicians in the gallery took note. The piping, drumming, and fiddling trailed off into quiet.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Lord Walder called out to Robb, \"the septon has prayed his prayers, some words have been said, and Lord Edmure's wrapped my sweetling in a fish cloak, but they are not yet man and wife. A sword needs a sheath, heh, and a wedding needs a bedding. What does my sire say? Is it meet that we should bed them?\"\n\nA score or more of Walder Frey's sons and grandsons began to bang their cups again, shouting, \"To bed! To bed! To bed with them!\" Roslin had gone white. Catelyn wondered whether it was the prospect of losing her maidenhead that frightened the girl, or the bedding itself. With so many siblings, she was not like to be a stranger to the custom, but it was different when you were the one being bedded. On Catelyn's own wedding night, Jory Cassell had torn her gown in his haste to get her out of it, and drunken Desmond Grell kept apologizing for every bawdy joke, only to make another. When Lord Dustin had beheld her naked, he'd told Ned that her breasts were enough to make him wish he'd never been weaned. Poor man, she thought. He had ridden south with Ned, never to return. Catelyn wondered how many of the men here tonight would be dead before the year was done. Too many, I fear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robb raised a hand. \"If you think the time is meet, Lord Walder, by all means let us bed them.\"\n\nA roar of approval greeted his pronouncement. Up in the gallery the musicians took up their pipes and horns and fiddles again, and began to play'The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown.\" Jinglebell hopped from foot to foot, his own crown ringing. \"I hear Tully men have trout between their legs instead of cocks,\" Alyx Frey called out boldly. \"Does it take a worm to make them rise?\" To which Ser Marq Piper threw back, \"I hear that Frey women have two gates in place of one!\" and Alyx said, \"Aye, but both are closed and barred to little things like you!\" A gust of laughter followed, until Patrek Mallister climbed up onto a table to propose a toast to Edmure's one-eyed fish. \"And a mighty pike it is!\" he proclaimed. \"Nay, I'll wager it's a minnow,\" Fat Walda Bolton shouted out from Catelyn's side. Then the general cry of'Bed them! Bed them!\" went up again.\n\nThe guests swarmed the dais, the drunkest in the forefront as ever. The men and boys surrounded Roslin and lifted her into the air whilst the maids and mothers in the hall pulled Edmure to his feet and began tugging at his clothing. He was laughing and shouting bawdy jokes back at them, though the music was too loud for Catelyn to hear. She heard the Greatjon, though. \"Give this little bride tome,\" he bellowed as he shoved through the other men and threw Roslin over one shoulder. \"Look at this little thing! No meat on her at all!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn felt sorry for the girl. Most brides tried to return the banter, or at least pretended to enjoy it, but Roslin was stiff with terror, clutching the Greatjon as if she feared he might drop her. She's crying too, Catelyn realized as she watched Ser Marq Piper pull off one of the bride's shoes. I hope Edmure is gentle with the poor child. Jolly, bawdy music still poured down from the gallery; the queen was taking off her kirtle now, and the king his tunic.\n\nShe knew she should join the throng of women round her brother, but she would only ruin their fun. The last thing she felt just now was bawdy. Edmure would forgive her absence, she did not doubt; much jollier to be stripped and bedded by a score of lusty, laughing Freys than by a sour, stricken sister.\n\nAs man and maid were carried from the hall, a trail of clothing behind them, Catelyn saw that Robb had also remained. Walder Frey was prickly enough to see some insult to his daughter in that. He should join in Roslin's bedding, but is it my place to tell him so? She tensed, until she saw that others had stayed as well. Petyr Pimple and Ser Whalen Frey slept on, their heads on the table. Merrett Frey poured himself another cup of wine, while Jinglebell wandered about stealing bites off the plates of those who'd left. Ser Wendel Manderly was lustily attacking a leg of lamb. And of course Lord Walder was far too feeble to leave his seat without help. He will expect Robb to go, though. She could almost hear the old man asking why His Grace did not want to see his daughter naked. The drums were pounding again, pounding and pounding and pounding."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Helping the author, keep the tale going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 53"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catelyn felt sorry for the girl. Most brides tried to return the banter, or at least pretended to enjoy it, but Roslin was stiff with terror, clutching the Greatjon as if she feared he might drop her. She's crying too, Catelyn realized as she watched Ser Marq Piper pull off one of the bride's shoes. I hope Edmure is gentle with the poor child. Jolly, bawdy music still poured down from the gallery; the queen was taking off her kirtle now, and the king his tunic.\n\nShe knew she should join the throng of women round her brother, but she would only ruin their fun. The last thing she felt just now was bawdy. Edmure would forgive her absence, she did not doubt; much jollier to be stripped and bedded by a score of lusty, laughing Freys than by a sour, stricken sister.\n\nAs man and maid were carried from the hall, a trail of clothing behind them, Catelyn saw that Robb had also remained. Walder Frey was prickly enough to see some insult to his daughter in that. He should join in Roslin's bedding, but is it my place to tell him so? She tensed, until she saw that others had stayed as well. Petyr Pimple and Ser Whalen Frey slept on, their heads on the table. Merrett Frey poured himself another cup of wine, while Jinglebell wandered about stealing bites off the plates of those who'd left. Ser Wendel Manderly was lustily attacking a leg of lamb. And of course Lord Walder was far too feeble to leave his seat without help. He will expect Robb to go, though. She could almost hear the old man asking why His Grace did not want to see his daughter naked. The drums were pounding again, pounding and pounding and pounding."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dacey Mormont, who seemed to be the only woman left in the hall besides Catelyn, stepped up behind Edwyn Frey, and touched him lightly on the arm as she said something in his ear. Edwyn wrenched himself away from her with unseemly violence. \"No,\" he said, too loudly. \"I'm done with dancing for the nonce.\" Dacey paled and turned away. Catelyn got slowly to her feet. What just happened there? Doubt gripped her heart, where an instant before had been only weariness. It is nothing, she tried to tell herself, you are seeing grumkins in the woodpile, you are become an old silly woman sick with grief and fear. But something must have shown on her face. Even Ser Wendel Manderly took note. \"Is something amiss?\" he asked, the leg of lamb in his hands.\n\nShe did not answer him. Instead she went after Edwyn Frey. The players in the gallery had finally gotten both king and queen down to their name-day suits. With scarcely a moment's respite, they began to play a very different sort of song. No one sang the words, but Catelyn knew'The Rains of Castamere\" when she heard it. Edwyn was hurrying toward a door. She hurried faster, driven by the music. Six quick strides and she caught him. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? She grabbed Edwyn by the arm to turn him and went cold allover when she felt the iron rings beneath his silken sleeve.\n\nCatelyn slapped him so hard she broke his lip. Olyvar, she thought, and Perwyn, Alesander, all absent. And Roslin wept...\n\nEdwyn Frey shoved her aside. The music drowned all other sound, echoing off the walls as if the stones themselves were playing. Robb gave Edwyn an angry look and moved to block his way... and staggered suddenly as a quarrel sprouted from his side, just beneath the shoulder. If he screamed then, the sound was swallowed by the pipes and horns and fiddles. Catelyn saw a second bolt pierce his leg, saw him fall. Up in the gallery, half the musicians had crossbows in their hands instead of drums or lutes. She ran toward her son, until something punched in the small of the back and the hard stone floor came up to slap her. \"Robb!\" she screamed. She saw Smalljon Umber wrestle a table off its trestles. Crossbow bolts thudded into the wood, one two three, as he flung it down on top of his king. Robin Flint was ringed by Freys, their daggers rising and falling. Ser Wendel Manderly rose ponderously to his feet, holding his leg of lamb. A quarrel went in his open mouth and came out the back of his neck. Ser Wendel crashed forward, knocking the table off its trestles and sending cups, flagons, trenchers, platters, turnips, beets, and wine bouncing, spilling, and sliding across the floor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Catelyn's back was on fire."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I have to reach him. The Smalljon bludgeoned Ser Raymund Frey across the face with a leg of mutton. But when he reached for his swordbelt a crossbow bolt drove him to his knees. Ina coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. She saw Lucas Blackwood cut down by Ser Hosteen Frey. One of the Vances was hamstrung by Black Walder as he was wrestling with Ser Harys Haigh. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours. The crossbows took Donnel Locke, Owen Norrey, and half a dozen more. Young Ser Benfrey had seized Dacey Mormont by the arm, but Catelyn saw her grab up a flagon of wine with her other hand, smash it full in his face, and run for the door. It flew open before she reached it. Ser Ryman Frey pushed into the hall, clad in steel from helm to heel. A dozen Frey men-at-arms packed the door behind him. They were armed with heavy longaxes.\n\n\"Mercy!\" Catelyn cried, but horns and drums and the clash of steel smothered her plea. Ser Ryman buried the head of his axe in Dacey's stomach. By then men were pouring in the other doors as well, mailed men in shaggy fur cloaks with steel in their hands. Northmen! She took them for rescue for half a heartbeat, till one of them struck the Smalljon's head off with two huge blows of his axe. Hope blew out like a candle in a storm.\n\nIn the midst of slaughter, the Lord of the Crossing sat on his carved oaken throne, watching greedily.\n\nThere was a dagger on the floor a few feet away. Perhaps it had skittered there when the Smalljon knocked the table off its trestles, or perhaps it had fallen from the hand of some dying man. Catelyn crawled toward it. Her limbs were leaden, and the taste of blood was in her mouth. I will kill Walder Frey, she told herself. Jinglebell was closer to the knife, hiding under a table, but he only cringed away as she snatched up the blade. I will kill the old man, I can do that much at least."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Then the tabletop that the Smalljon had flung over Robb shifted, and her son struggled to his knees."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had an arrow in his side, a second in his leg, a third through his chest. Lord Walder raised a hand, and the music stopped, all but one drum. Catelyn heard the crash of distant battle, and closer the wild howling of a wolf. Grey Wind, she remembered too late. \"Heh,\" Lord Walder cackled at Robb, \"the King in the North arises. Seems we killed some of your men, Your Grace. Oh, but I'll make you an apology, that will mend them all again, heh.\"\n\nCatelyn grabbed a handful of Jinglebell Frey's long grey hair and dragged him out of his hiding place. \"Lord Walder!\" she shouted. \"LORD WALDER!\" The drumbeat slow and sonorous, doom boom doom. \"Enough,\" said Catelyn. \"Enough, I say. You have repaid betrayal with betrayal, let it end.\" When she pressed her dagger to Jinglebell's throat, the memory of Bran's sickroom came back to her, with the feel of steel at her own throat. The drum went boom doom boom doom boom doom. \"Please,\" she said. \"He is my son. My first son, and my last. Let him go. Let him go and I swear we will forget this... forget all you've done here. I swear it by the old gods and new, we... we will take no vengeance...\"\n\nLord Walder peered at her in mistrust. \"Only a fool would believe such blather. D'you take me fora fool, my lady?\"\n\n\"I take you fora father. Keep me fora hostage, Edmure as well if you haven't killed him. But let Robb go.\"\n\n\"No.\" Robb's voice was whisper faint. \"Mother, no...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes. Robb, getup. Getup and walkout, please, please. Save yourself... if not for me, for Jeyne.\"\n\n\"Jeyne?\" Robb grabbed the edge of the table and forced himself to stand. \"Mother,\" he said, \"Grey Wind...\"\n\n\"Go to him. Now. Robb, walkout of here.\"\n\nLord Walder snorted. \"And why would I let him do that?\"\n\nShe pressed the blade deeper into Jinglebell's throat. The lackwit rolled his eyes at her in mute appeal. Afoul stench assailed her nose, but she paid it no more mind than she did the sullen ceaseless pounding of that drum, boom doom boom doom boom doom. Ser Ryman and Black Walder were circling round her back, but Catelyn did not care. They could do as they wished with her; imprison her, rape her, kill her, it made no matter. She had lived too long, and Ned was waiting. It was Robb she feared for. \"On my honor as a Tully,\" she told Lord Walder, \"on my honor as a Stark, I will trade your boy's life for Robb's. A son fora son.\" Her hand shook so badly she was ringing Jinglebell's head.\n\nBoom, the drum sounded, boom doom boom doom. The old man's lips went in and out. The knife trembled in Catelyn's hand, slippery with sweat. \"A son fora son, heh,\" he repeated. \"But that's a grandson... and he never was much use.\"\n\nA man in dark armor and a pale pink cloak spotted with blood stepped up to Robb. \"Jaime Lannister sends his regards.\" He thrust his longsword through her son's heart, and twisted."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robb had broken his word, but Catelyn kept hers. She tugged hard on Aegon's hair and sawed at his neck until the blade grated on bone. Blood ran hot over her fingers. His little bells were ringing, ringing, ringing, and the drum went boom doom boom.\n\nFinally someone took the knife away from her. The tears burned like vinegar as they ran down her cheeks. Ten fierce ravens were raking her face with sharp talons and tearing off strips of flesh, leaving deep furrows that ran red with blood. She could taste it on her lips.\n\nIt hurts so much, she thought. Our children, Ned, all our sweet babes. Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb... Robb... please, Ned, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting... The white tears and the red ones ran together until her face was torn and tattered, the face that Ned had loved. Catelyn Stark raised her hands and watched the blood rundown her long fingers, over her wrists, beneath the sleeves of her gown. Slow red worms crawled along her arms and under her clothes. It tickles. That made her laugh until she screamed. \"Mad,\" someone said, \"she's lost her wits,\" and someone else said, \"Make an end,\" and a hand grabbed her scalp just as she'd done with Jinglebell, and she thought, No, don't, don't cut my hair, Ned loves my hair. Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "ARYA\n\nThe feast tents were behind them now. They squished over wet clay and torn grass, out of the light and back into the gloom. Ahead loomed the castle gatehouse. She could see torches moving on the walls, their flames dancing and blowing in the wind. The light shone dully against the wet mail and helms. More torches were moving on the dark stone bridge that joined the Twins, a column of them streaming from the west bank to the east.\n\n\"The castle's not closed,\" Arya said suddenly. The sergeant had said it would be, but he was wrong. The portcullis was being drawn upward even as she watched, and the drawbridge had already been lowered to span the swollen moat. She had been afraid that Lord Frey's guardsmen would refuse to let them in. For half a heartbeat she chewed her lip, too anxious to smile.\n\nThe Hound reined up so suddenly that she almost fell off the wayn. \"Seven bloody buggering hells,\" Arya heard him curse, as their left wheel began to sink in soft mud. The wayn tilted slowly. \"Get down,\" Clegane roared at her, slamming the heel of his hand into her shoulder to knock her sideways. She landed light, the way Syrio had taught her, and bounced up at once with a face full of mud. \"Why did you do that?\" she screamed. The Hound had leapt down as well. He tore the seat off the front of the wayn and reached in for the swordbelt he'd hidden beneath it.\n\nIt was only then that she heard the riders pouring out the castle gate in a river of steel and fire, the thunder of their destriers crossing the drawbridge almost lost beneath the drumming from the castles. Men and mounts wore plate armor, and one in every ten carried a torch. The rest had axes, longaxes with spiked heads and heavy bone-crushing armor-smashing blades."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Somewhere far off she heard a wolf howling. It wasn't very loud compared to the camp noise and the music and the low ominous growl of the river running wild, but she heard it all the same. Only maybe it wasn't her ears that heard it. The sound shivered through Arya like a knife, sharp with rage and grief. More and more riders were emerging from the castle, a column four wide with no end to it, knights and squires and freeriders, torches and longaxes. And there was noise coming from behind as well.\n\nWhen Arya looked around, she saw that there were only two of the huge feast tents where once there had been three. The one in the middle had collapsed. Fora moment she did not understand what she was seeing. Then the flames went licking up from the fallen tent, and now the other two were collapsing, heavy oiled cloth settling down on the men beneath. A flight of fire arrows streaked through the air. The second tent took fire, and then the third. The screams grew so loud she could hear words through the music. Dark shapes moved in front of the flames, the steel of their armor shining orange from afar.\n\nA battle, Arya knew. It's a battle. And the riders...\n\nShe had no more time to watch the tents then. With the river overflowing its banks, the dark swirling waters at the end of the drawbridge reached as high as a horse's belly, but the riders splashed through them all the same, spurred on by the music. For once the same song was coming from both castles. I know this song, Arya realized suddenly. Tom o\" Sevens had sung it for them, that rainy night the outlaws had sheltered in the brewhouse with the brothers. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Frey riders were struggling through the mud and reeds, but some of them had seen the wayn. She watched as three riders left the main column, pounding through the shallows. Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know.\n\nClegane cut Stranger loose with a single slash of his sword and leapt onto his back. The courser knew what was wanted of him. He pricked up his ears and wheeled toward the charging destriers. Ina coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours. Arya had prayed a hundred hundred times for the Hound to die, but now... there was a rock in her hand, slimy with mud, and she didn't even remember picking it up. Who do I throw it at?\n\nShe jumped at the clash of metal as Clegane turned aside the first longaxe. While he was engaged with the first man, the second circled behind him and aimed a blow for the small of his back. Stranger was wheeling, so the Hound took only a glancing blow, enough to rip a great gash in his baggy peasant's blouse and expose the mail below. He is one against three. Arya still clutched her rock. They're sure to kill him. She thought of Mycah, the butcher's boy who had been her friend so briefly.\n\nThen she saw the third rider coming her way. Arya moved behind the wayn. Fear cuts deeper than swords. She could hear drums and warhorns and pipes, stallions trumpeting, the shriek of steel on steel, but all the sounds seemed so faraway. There was only the oncoming horseman and the longaxe in his hand. He wore a surcoat over his armor and she saw the two towers that marked him fora Frey. She did not understand. Her uncle was marrying Lord Frey's daughter, the Freys were her brother's friends. \"Don't!\" she screamed as he rode around the wayn, but he paid no mind."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he charged Arya threw the rock, the way she'd once thrown a crabapple at Gendry. She'd gotten Gendry right between the eyes, but this time her aim was off, and the stone caromed sideways off his temple. It was enough to break his charge, but no more. She retreated, darting across the muddy ground on the balls of her feet, putting the wayn between them once more. The knight followed at a trot, only darkness behind his eyeslit. She hadn't even dented his helm. They went round once, twice, a third time. The knight cursed her. \"You can't run for-\"\n\nThe axehead caught him square in the back of the head, crashing through his helm and the skull beneath and sending him flying face first from his saddle. Behind him was the Hound, still mounted on Stranger. How did you get an axe? she almost asked, before she saw. One of the other Freys was trapped beneath his dying horse, drowning in afoot of water. The third man was sprawled on his back, unmoving. He hadn't worn a gorget, and afoot of broken sword jutted from beneath his chin.\n\n\"Get my helm,\" Clegane growled at her.\n\nIt was stuffed at the bottom of a sack of dried apples, in the back of the wayn behind the pickled pigs' feet. Arya upended the sack and tossed it to him. He snatched it one-handed from the air and lowered it over his head, and where the man had sat only a steel dog remained, snarling at the fires.\n\n\"My brother...\"\n\n\"Dead,\" he shouted back at her. \"Do you think they'd slaughter his men and leave him alive?\" He turned his head back toward the camp. \"Look. Look, damn you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The camp had become a battlefield. No, a butcher's den. The flames from the feasting tents reached halfway up the sky. Some of the barracks tents were burning too, and half a hundred silk pavilions. Everywhere swords were singing. And now the rains weep o'er his hall, with not a soul to hear. She saw two knights ride down a running man. A wooden barrel came crashing onto one of the burning tents and burst apart, and the flames leapt twice as high. A catapult, she knew. The castle was flinging oil or pitch or something.\n\n\"Come with me.\" Sandor Clegane reached down a hand. \"We have to getaway from here, and now.\" Stranger tossed his head impatiently, his nostrils flaring at the scent of blood. The song was done. There was only one solitary drum, its slow monotonous beats echoing across the river like the pounding of some monstrous heart. The black sky wept, the river grumbled, men cursed and died. Arya had mud in her teeth and her face was wet. Rain. It's only rain. That's all it is. \"We're here,\" she shouted. Her voice sounded thin and scared, a little girl's voice. \"Robb's just in the castle, and my mother. The gate's even open.\" There were no more Freys riding out. I came so far. \"We have to go get my mother.\"\n\n\"Stupid little bitch.\" Fires glinted off the snout of his helm, and made the steel teeth shine. \"You go in there, you won't come out. Maybe Frey will let you kiss your mother's corpse.\"\n\n\"Maybe we can save her...\"\n\n\"Maybe you can. I'm not done living yet.\" He rode toward her, crowding her back toward the wayn. \"Stay or go, she-wolf. Live or die. Your-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya spun away from him and darted for the gate. The portcullis was coming down, but slowly. I have to run faster. The mud slowed her, though, and then the water. Run fast as a wolf. The drawbridge had begun to lift, the water running off it in a sheet, the mud falling in heavy clots. Faster. She heard loud splashing and looked back to see Stranger pounding after her, sending up gouts of water with every stride. She saw the longaxe too, still wet with blood and brains. And Arya ran. Not for her brother now, not even for her mother, but for herself. She ran faster than she had ever run before, her head down and her feet churning up the river, she ran from him as Mycah must have run.\n\nHis axe took her in the back of the head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "TYRION\n\nThey supped alone, as they did so often.\n\n\"The pease are overcooked,\" his wife ventured once.\n\n\"No matter,\" he said. \"So is the mutton.\"\n\nIt was a jest, but Sansa took it for criticism. \"I am sorry, my lord.\"\n\n\"Why? Some cook should be sorry. Not you. The pease are not your province, Sansa.\"\n\n\"I... I am sorry that my lord husband is displeased.\"\n\n\"Any displeasure I'm feeling has naught to do with pease. I have Joffrey and my sister to displease me, and my lord father, and three hundred bloody Dornishmen.\" He had settled Prince Oberyn and his lords in a cornerfort facing the city, as far from the Tyrells as he could put them without evicting them from the Red Keep entirely. It was not nearly far enough. Already there had been a brawl in a Flea Bottom pot-shop that left one Tyrell man-at-arms dead and two of Lord Gargalen's scalded, and an ugly confrontation in the yard when Mace Tyrell's wizened little mother called Ellaria Sand'the serpent's whore.\" Every time he chanced to see Oberyn Martell the prince asked when the justice would be served. Overcooked pease were the least of Tyrion's troubles, but he saw no point in burdening his young wife with any of that. Sansa had enough griefs of her own.\n\n\"The pease suffice,\" he told her curtly. \"They are green and round, what more can one expect of pease? Here, I'll have another serving, if it please my lady.\" He beckoned, and Podrick Payne spooned so many pease onto his plate that Tyrion lost sight of his mutton. That was stupid, he told himself. Now I have to eat them all, or she'll be sorry allover again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The supper ended in a strained silence, as so many of their suppers did."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Afterward, as Pod was removing the cups and platters, Sansa asked Tyrion for leave to visit the godswood.\n\n\"As you wish.\" He had become accustomed to his wife's nightly devotions. She prayed at the royal sept as well, and often lit candles to Mother, Maid, and Crone. Tyrion found all this piety excessive, if truth be told, but in her place he might want the help of the gods as well. \"I confess, I know little of the old gods,\" he said, trying to be pleasant. \"Perhaps someday you might enlighten me. I could even accompany you.\"\n\n\"No,\" Sansa said at once. \"You... you are kind to offer, but... there are no devotions, my lord. No priests or songs or candles. Only trees, and silent prayer. You would be bored.\"\n\n\"No doubt you're right.\" She knows me better than I thought. \"Though the sound of rustling leaves might be a pleasant change from some septon droning on about the seven aspects of grace.\" Tyrion waved her off. \"I won't intrude. Dress warmly, my lady, the wind is brisk out there.\" He was tempted to ask what she prayed for, but Sansa was so dutiful she might actually tell him, and he didn't think he wanted to know.\n\nHe went back to work after she left, trying to track some golden dragons through the labyrinth of Littlefinger's ledgers. Petyr Baelish had not believed in letting gold sit about and grow dusty, that was for certain, but the more Tyrion tried to make sense of his accounts the more his head hurt. It was all very well to talk of breeding dragons instead of locking them up in the treasury, but some of these ventures smelled worse than week-old fish. I wouldn't have been so quick to let Joffrey fling the Antler Men over the walls if I'd known how many of the bloody bastards had taken loans from the crown. He would have to send Bronn to find their heirs, but he feared that would prove as fruitful as trying to squeeze silver from a silverfish."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When the summons from his lord father arrived, it was the first time Tyrion could ever recall being pleased to see Ser Boros Blount."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He closed the ledgers gratefully, blew out the oil lamp, tied a cloak around his shoulders, and waddled across the castle to the Tower of the Hand. The wind was brisk, just as he'd warned Sansa, and there was a smell of rain in the air. Perhaps when Lord Tywin was done with him he should go to the godswood and fetch her home before she got soaked.\n\nBut all that went straight out of his head when he entered the Hand's solar to find Cersei, Ser Kevan, and Grand Maester Pycelle gathered about Lord Tywin and the king. Joffrey was almost bouncing, and Cersei was savoring a smug little smile, though Lord Tywin looked as grim as ever. I wonder if he could smile even if he wanted to. \"What's happened?\" Tyrion asked.\n\nHis father offered him a roll of parchment. Someone had flattened it, but it still wanted to curl. \"Roslin caught a fine fat trout,\" the message read. \"Her brothers gave her a pair of wolf pelts for her wedding.\" Tyrion turned it over to inspect the broken seal. The wax was silvery-grey, and pressed into it were the twin towers of House Frey. \"Does the Lord of the Crossing imagine he's being poetic? Or is this meant to confound us?\" Tyrion snorted. \"The trout would be Edmure Tully, the pelts...\"\n\n\"He's dead!\" Joffrey sounded so proud and happy you might have thought he'd skinned Robb Stark himself.\n\nFirst Greyjoy and now Stark. Tyrion thought of his child wife, praying in the godswood even now. Praying to her father's gods to bring her brother victory and keep her mother safe, no doubt. The old gods paid no more heed to prayer than the new ones, it would seem. Perhaps he should take comfort in that. \"Kings are falling like leaves this autumn,\" he said. \"It would seem our little war is winning itself.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Wars do not win themselves, Tyrion,\" Cersei said with poisonous sweetness. \"Our lord father won this war.\"\n\n\"Nothing is won so long as we have enemies in the field,\" Lord Tywin warned them.\n\n\"The river lords are no fools,\" the queen argued. \"Without the northmen they cannot hope to stand against the combined power of Highgarden, Casterly Rock, and Dorne. Surely they will choose submission rather than destruction.\"\n\n\"Most,\" agreed Lord Tywin. \"Riverrun remains, but so long as Walder Frey holds Edmure Tully hostage, the Blackfish dare not mount a threat. Jason Mallister and Tytos Blackwood will fight on for honor's sake, but the Freys can keep the Mallisters penned up at Seagard, and with the right inducement Jonos Bracken can be persuaded to change his allegiance and attack the Blackwoods. In the end they will bend the knee, yes. I mean to offer generous terms. Any castle that yields to us will be spared, save one.\"\n\n\"Harrenhal?\" said Tyrion, who knew his sire.\n\n\"The realm is best rid of these Brave Companions. I have commanded Ser Gregor to put the castle to the sword.\"\n\nGregor Clegane. It appeared as if his lord father meant to mine the Mountain for every last nugget of ore before turning him over to Dornish justice. The Brave Companions would end as heads on spikes, and Littlefinger would stroll into Harrenhal without so much as a spot of blood on those fine clothes of his. He wondered if Petyr Baelish had reached the Vale yet. If the gods are good, he ran into a storm at sea and sank. But when had the gods ever been especially good?"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They should all be put to the sword,\" Joffrey declared suddenly. \"The Mallisters and Blackwoods and Brackens... all of them. They're traitors. I want them killed, Grandfather. I won't have any generous terms.\" The king turned to Grand Maester Pycelle. \"And I want Robb Stark's head too. Write to Lord Frey and tell him. The king commands. I'm going to have it served to Sansa at my wedding feast.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" Ser Kevan said, in a shocked voice, \"the lady is now your aunt by marriage.\"\n\n\"A jest.\" Cersei smiled. \"Joff did not mean it.\"\n\n\"Yes I did,\" Joffrey insisted. \"He was a traitor, and I want his stupid head. I'm going to make Sansa kiss it.\"\n\n\"No.\" Tyrion's voice was hoarse. \"Sansa is no longer yours to torment. Understand that, monster.\"\n\nJoffrey sneered. \"You're the monster, Uncle.\"\n\n\"Am I?\" Tyrion cocked his head. \"Perhaps you should speak more softly tome, then. Monsters are dangerous beasts, and just now kings seem to be dying like flies.\"\n\n\"I could have your tongue out for saying that,\" the boy king said, reddening. \"I'm the king.\"\n\nCersei put a protective hand on her son's shoulder. \"Let the dwarf make all the threats he likes, Joff. I want my lord father and my uncle to see what he is.\"\n\nLord Tywin ignored that; it was Joffrey he addressed. \"Aerys also felt the need to remind men that he was king. And he was passing fond of ripping tongues out as well. You could ask Ser Ilyn Payne about that, though you'll get no reply.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ser Ilyn never dared provoke Aerys the way your Imp provokes Joff,\" said Cersei. \"You heard him. \"Monster,\" he said. To the King's Grace. And he threatened him...\"\n\n\"Be quiet, Cersei. Joffrey, when your enemies defy you, you must serve them steel and fire. When they go to their knees, however, you must help them back to their feet. Elsewise no man will ever bend the knee to you. And any man who must say \"I am the king\" is no true king at all. Aerys never understood that, but you will. When I've won your war for you, we will restore the king's peace and the king's justice. The only head that need concern you is Margaery Tyrell's maidenhead.\"\n\nJoffrey had that sullen, sulky look he got. Cersei had him firmly by the shoulder, but perhaps she should have had him by the throat. The boy surprised them all. Instead of scuttling safely back under his rock, Joff drew himself up defiantly and said, \"You talk about Aerys, Grandfather, but you were scared of him.\"\n\nOh, my, hasn't this gotten interesting? Tyrion thought.\n\nLord Tywin studied his grandchild in silence, gold flecks shining in his pale green eyes. \"Joffrey, apologize to your grandfather,\" said Cersei.\n\nHe wrenched free of her. \"Why should I? Everyone knows it's true. My father won all the battles. He killed Prince Rhaegar and took the crown, while your father was hiding under Casterly Rock.\" The boy gave his grandfather a defiant look. \"A strong king acts boldly, he doesn't just talk.\"\n\n\"Thank you for that wisdom, Your Grace,\" Lord Tywin said, with a courtesy so cold it was like to freeze their ears off. \"Ser Kevan, I can seethe king is tired. Please see him safely back to his bedchamber. Pycelle, perhaps some gentle potion to help His Grace sleep restfully?\""
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Dreamwine, my lord?\"\n\n\"I don't want any dreamwine,\" Joffrey insisted.\n\nLord Tywin would have paid more heed to a mouse squeaking in the corner. \"Dreamwine will serve. Cersei, Tyrion, remain.\"\n\nSer Kevan took Joffrey firmly by the arm and marched him out the door, where two of the Kingsguard were waiting. Grand Maester Pycelle scurried after them as fast as his shaky old legs could take him. Tyrion remained where he was.\n\n\"Father, I am sorry,\" Cersei said, when the door was shut. \"Joff has always been willful, I did warn you...\"\n\n\"There is along league's worth of difference between willful and stupid.\"A strong king acts boldly? ' Who told him that?\"\n\n\"Not me, I promise you,\" said Cersei. \"Most like it was something he heard Robert say...\"\n\n\"The part about you hiding under Casterly Rock does sound like Robert.\" Tyrion didn't want Lord Tywin forgetting that bit.\n\n\"Yes, I recall now,\" Cersei said, \"Robert often told Joff that a king must be bold.\"\n\n\"And what were you telling him, pray? I did not fight a war to seat Robert the Second on the Iron Throne. You gave me to understand the boy cared nothing for his father.\"\n\n\"Why would he? Robert ignored him. He would have beat him if I'd allowed it. That brute you made me marry once hit the boy so hard he knocked out two of his baby teeth, over some mischief with a cat. I told him I'd kill him in his sleep if he ever did it again, and he never did, but sometimes he would say things...\""
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It appears things needed to be said.\" Lord Tywin waved two fingers at her, a brusque dismissal. \"Go.\"\n\nShe went, seething.\n\n\"Not Robert the Second,\" Tyrion said. \"Aerys the Third.\"\n\n\"The boy is thirteen. There is time yet.\" Lord Tywin paced to the window. That was unlike him; he was more upset than he wished to show. \"He requires a sharp lesson.\"\n\nTyrion had gotten his own sharp lesson at thirteen. He felt almost sorry for his nephew. On the other hand, no one deserved it more. \"Enough of Joffrey,\" he said. \"Wars are won with quills and ravens, wasn't that what you said? I must congratulate you. How long have you and Walder Frey been plotting this?\"\n\n\"I mislike that word,\" Lord Tywin said stiffly.\n\n\"And I mislike being left in the dark.\"\n\n\"There was no reason to tell you. You had no part in this.\"\n\n\"Was Cersei told?\" Tyrion demanded to know.\n\n\"No one was told, save those who had apart to play. And they were only told as much as they needed to know. You ought to know that there is no other way to keep a secret-here, especially. My object was to rid us of a dangerous enemy as cheaply as I could, not to indulge your curiosity or make your sister feel important.\" He closed the shutters, frowning. \"You have a certain cunning, Tyrion, but the plain truth is you talk too much. That loose tongue of yours will be your undoing.\"\n\n\"You should have let Joff tear it out,\" suggested Tyrion.\n\n\"You would do well not to tempt me,\" Lord Tywin said. \"I'll hear no more of this. I have been considering how best to appease Oberyn Martell and his entourage.\""
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh? Is this something I'm allowed to know, or should I leave so you can discuss it with yourself?\"\n\nHis father ignored the sally. \"Prince Oberyn's presence here is unfortunate. His brother is a cautious man, a reasoned man, subtle, deliberate, even indolent to a degree. He is a man who weighs the consequences of every word and every action. But Oberyn has always been half-mad.\"\n\n\"Is it true he tried to raise Dorne for Viserys?\"\n\n\"No one speaks of it, but yes. Ravens flew and riders rode, with what secret messages I never knew. Jon Arryn sailed to Sunspear to return Prince Lewyn's bones, sat down with Prince Doran, and ended all the talk of war. But Robert never went to Dorne thereafter, and Prince Oberyn seldom left it.\"\n\n\"Well, he's here now, with half the nobility of Dorne in his tail, and he grows more impatient everyday,\" said Tyrion. \"Perhaps I should show him the brothels of King's Landing, that might distract him. A tool for every task, isn't that how it works? My tool is yours, Father. Never let it be said that House Lannister blew its trumpets and I did not respond.\"\n\nLord Tywin's mouth tightened. \"Very droll. Shall I have them sew you a suit of motley, and a little hat with bells on it?\"\n\n\"If I wear it, do I have leave to say anything I want about His Grace King Joffrey?\"\n\nLord Tywin seated himself again and said, \"I was made to suffer my father's follies. I will not suffer yours. Enough.\"\n\n\"Very well, as you ask so pleasantly. The Red Viper is not going to be pleasant, I fear... nor will he content himself with Ser Gregor's head alone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"All the more reason not to give it to him.\"\n\n\"Not to...?\" Tyrion was shocked. \"I thought we were agreed that the woods were full of beasts.\"\n\n\"Lesser beasts.\" Lord Tywin's fingers laced together under his chin. \"Ser Gregor has served us well. No other knight in the realm inspires such terror in our enemies.\"\n\n\"Oberyn knows that Gregor was the one who...\"\n\n\"He knows nothing. He has heard tales. Stable gossip and kitchen calumnies. He has no crumb of proof. Ser Gregor is certainly not about to confess to him. I mean to keep him well away for so long as the Dornishmen are in King's Landing.\"\n\n\"And when Oberyn demands the justice he's come for?\"\n\n\"I will tell him that Ser Amory Lorch killed Elia and her children,\" Lord Tywin said calmly. \"So will you, if he asks.\"\n\n\"Ser Amory Lorch is dead,\" Tyrion said flatly.\n\n\"Precisely. Vargo Hoat had Ser Amory torn apart by a bear after the fall of Harrenhal. That ought to be sufficiently grisly to appease even Oberyn Martell.\"\n\n\"You may call that justice...\"\n\n\"It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl's body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father's bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below.\"\n\n\"Well, it's a tale, and Ser Amory's not like to deny it. What will you tell Oberyn when he asks who gave Lorch his orders?\"\n\n\"Ser Amory acted on his own in the hope of winning favor from the new king. Robert's hatred for Rhaegar was scarcely a secret.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It might serve, Tyrion had to concede, but the snake will not be happy. \"Far be it from me to question your cunning, Father, but in your place I do believe I'd have let Robert Baratheon bloody his own hands.\"\n\nLord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. \"You deserve that motley, then. We had come late to Robert's cause. It was necessary to demonstrate our loyalty. When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert's relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar's children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children.\" His father shrugged. \"I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing.\"\n\n\"Then why did the Mountain kill her?\"\n\n\"Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark's van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do.\" He closed a fist. \"Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape... even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of... two? Three? He said she'd kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow.\" His mouth twisted in distaste. \"The blood was in him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But not in you, Father."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There is no blood in Tywin Lannister. \"Was it a soft silk pillow that slew Robb Stark?\"\n\n\"It was to bean arrow, at Edmure Tully's wedding feast. The boy was too wary in the field. He kept his men in good order, and surrounded himself with outriders and bodyguards.\"\n\n\"So Lord Walder slew him under his own roof, at his own table?\" Tyrion made a fist. \"What of Lady Catelyn?\"\n\n\"Slain as well, I'd say. A pair of wolfskins. Frey had intended to keep her captive, but perhaps something went awry.\"\n\n\"So much for guest right.\"\n\n\"The blood is on Walder Frey's hands, not mine.\"\n\n\"Walder Frey is a peevish old man who lives to fondle his young wife and brood overall the slights he's suffered. I have no doubt he hatched this ugly chicken, but he would never have dared such a thing without a promise of protection.\"\n\n\"I suppose you would have spared the boy and told Lord Frey you had no need of his allegiance? That would have driven the old fool right back into Stark's arms and won you another year of war. Explain tome why it is more noble to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner.\" When Tyrion had no reply to that, his father continued. \"The price was cheap by any measure. The crown shall grant Riverrun to Ser Emmon Frey once the Blackfish yields. Lancel and Daven must marry Frey girls, Joy is towed one of Lord Walder's natural sons when she's old enough, and Roose Bolton becomes Warden of the North and takes home Arya Stark.\"\n\n\"Arya Stark?\" Tyrion cocked his head. \"And Bolton? I might have known Frey would not have the stomach to act alone. But Arya... Varys and Ser Jacelyn searched for her for more than half a year. Arya Stark is surely dead.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So was Renly, until the Blackwater.\"\n\n\"What does that mean?\"\n\n\"Perhaps Littlefinger succeeded where you and Varys failed. Lord Bolton will wed the girl to his bastard son. We shall allow the Dreadfort to fight the ironborn fora few years, and see if he can bring Stark's other bannermen to heel. Come spring, all of them should beat the end of their strength and ready to bend the knee. The north will go to your son by Sansa Stark... if you ever find enough manhood in you to breed one. Lest you forget, it is not only Joffrey who must needs take a maidenhead.\"\n\nI had not forgotten, though I'd hoped you had. \"And when do you imagine Sansa will beat her most fertile?\" Tyrion asked his father intones that dripped acid. \"Before or after I tell her how we murdered her mother and her brother?\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "DAVOS\n\nFora moment it seemed as though the king had not heard. Stannis showed no pleasure at the news, no anger, no disbelief, not even relief. He stared at his Painted Table with teeth clenched hard. \"You are certain?\" he asked.\n\n\"I am not seeing the body, no, Your Kingliness,\" said Salladhor Saan. \"Yet in the city, the lions prance and dance. The Red Wedding, the smallfolk are calling it. They swear Lord Frey had the boy's head hacked off, sewed the head of his direwolf in its place, and nailed a crown about his ears. His lady mother was slain as well, and thrown naked in the river.\"\n\nAt a wedding, thought Davos. Ashe sat at his slayer's board, a guest beneath his roof. These Freys are cursed. He could smell the burning blood again, and hear the leech hissing and spitting on the brazier's hot coals.\n\n\"It was the Lord's wrath that slew him,\" Ser Axell Florent declared. \"It was the hand of R'hllor!\"\n\n\"Praise the Lord of Light!\" sang out Queen Selyse, a pinched thin hard woman with large ears and a hairy upper lip.\n\n\"Is the hand of R'hllor spotted and palsied?\" asked Stannis. \"This sounds more Walder Frey's handiwork than any god's.\"\n\n\"R'hllor chooses such instruments as he requires.\" The ruby at Melisandre's throat shone redly. \"His ways are mysterious, but no man may withstand his fiery will.\"\n\n\"No man may withstand him!\" the queen cried.\n\n\"Be quiet, woman. You are not at a nightfire now.\" Stannis considered the Painted Table. \"The wolf leaves no heirs, the kraken too many. The lions will devour them unless... Saan, I will require your fastest ships to carry envoys to the Iron Islands and White Harbor. I shall offer pardons.\" The way he snapped his teeth showed how little he liked that word. \"Full pardons, for all those who repent of treason and swear fealty to their rightful king. They must see...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"They will not.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Melisandre's voice was soft. \"I am sorry, Your Grace. This is not an end. More false kings will soon rise to take up the crowns of those who've died.\"\n\n\"More?\" Stannis looked as though he would gladly have throttled her. \"More usurpers? More traitors?\"\n\n\"I have seen it in the flames.\"\n\nQueen Selyse went to the king's side. \"The Lord of Light sent Melisandre to guide you to your glory. Heed her, I beg you. R'hllor's holy flames do not lie.\"\n\n\"There are lies and lies, woman. Even when these flames speak truly, they are full of tricks, it seems tome.\"\n\n\"An ant who hears the words of a king may not comprehend what he is saying,\" Melisandre said, \"and all men are ants before the fiery face of god. If sometimes I have mistaken a warning fora prophecy or a prophecy fora warning, the fault lies in the reader, not the book. But this I know fora certainty-envoys and pardons will not serve you now, no more than leeches. You must show the realm a sign. A sign that proves your power!\"\n\n\"Power?\" The king snorted. \"I have thirteen hundred men on Dragonstone, another three hundred at Storm's End.\" His hand swept over the Painted Table. \"The rest of Westeros is in the hands of my foes. I have no fleet but Salladhor Saan's. No coin to hire sellswords. No prospect of plunder or glory to lure freeriders to my cause.\"\n\n\"Lord husband,\" said Queen Selyse, \"you have more men than Aegon did three hundred years ago. All you lack are dragons.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The look Stannis gave her was dark."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Nine mages crossed the sea to hatch Aegon the Third's cache of eggs. Baelor the Blessed prayed over his for half a year. Aegon the Fourth built dragons of wood andiron. Aerion Brightflame drank wildfire to transform himself. The mages failed, King Baelor's prayers went unanswered, the wooden dragons burned, and Prince Aerion died screaming.\"\n\nQueen Selyse was adamant. \"None of these was the chosen of R'hllor. No red comet blazed across the heavens to herald their coming. None wielded Lightbringer, the red sword of heroes. And none of them paid the price. Lady Melisandre will tell you, my lord. Only death can pay for life.\"\n\n\"The boy?\" The king almost spat the words.\n\n\"The boy,\" agreed the queen.\n\n\"The boy,\" Ser Axell echoed.\n\n\"I was sick unto death of this wretched boy before he was even born,\" the king complained. \"His very name is a roaring in my ears and a dark cloud upon my soul.\"\n\n\"Give the boy tome and you need never hear his name spoken again,\" Melisandre promised.\n\nNo, but you'll hear him screaming when she burns him. Davos held his tongue. It was wiser not to speak until the king commanded it.\n\n\"Give me the boy for R'hllor,\" the red woman said, \"and the ancient prophecy shall be fulfilled. Your dragon shall awaken and spread his stony wings. The kingdom shall be yours.\"\n\nSer Axell went to one knee. \"On bended knee I beg you, sire. Wake the stone dragon and let the traitors tremble. Like Aegon you begin as Lord of Dragonstone. Like Aegon you shall conquer. Let the false and the fickle feel your flames.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your own wife begs as well, lord husband.\" Queen Selyse went down on both knees before the king, hands clasped as if in prayer. \"Robert and Delena defiled our bed and laid a curse upon our union. This boy is the foul fruit of their fornications. Lift his shadow from my womb and I will bear you many trueborn sons, I know it.\" She threw her arms around his legs. \"He is only one boy, born of your brother's lust and my cousin's shame.\"\n\n\"He is mine own blood. Stop clutching me, woman.\" King Stannis put a hand on her shoulder, awkwardly untangling himself from her grasp. \"Perhaps Robert did curse our marriage bed. He swore tome that he never meant to shame me, that he was drunk and never knew which bedchamber he entered that night. But does it matter? The boy was not at fault, whatever the truth.\"\n\nMelisandre put her hand on the king's arm. \"The Lord of Light cherishes the innocent. There is no sacrifice more precious. From his king's blood and his untainted fire, a dragon shall be born.\"\n\nStannis did not pull away from Melisandre's touch as he had from his queen's. The red woman was all Selyse was not; young, full-bodied, and strangely beautiful, with her heart-shaped face, coppery hair, and unearthly red eyes. \"It would be a wondrous thing to see stone come to life,\" he admitted, grudging. \"And to mount a dragon... I remember the first time my father took me to court, Robert had to hold my hand. I could not have been older than four, which would have made him five or six. We agreed afterward that the king had been as noble as the dragons were fearsome.\" Stannis snorted. \"Years later, our father told us that Aerys had cut himself on the throne that morning, so his Hand had taken his place. It was Tywin Lannister who'd so impressed us.\" His fingers touched the surface of the table, tracing a path lightly across the varnished hills. \"Robert took the skulls down when he donned the crown, but he could not bear to have them destroyed. Dragon wings over Westeros... there would be such a...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your Grace!\" Davos edged forward. \"Might I speak?\"\n\nStannis closed his mouth so hard his teeth snapped. \"My lord of the Rainwood. Why do you think I made you Hand, if not to speak?\" The king waved a hand. \"Say what you will.\"\n\nWarrior, make me brave. \"I know little of dragons and less of gods... but the queen spoke of curses. No man is as cursed as the kinslayer, in the eyes of gods and men.\"\n\n\"There are no gods save R'hllor and the Other, whose name must not bespoken.\" Melisandre's mouth made a hard red line. \"And small men curse what they cannot understand.\"\n\n\"I am a small man,\" Davos admitted, \"so tell me why you need this boy Edric Storm to wake your great stone dragon, my lady.\" He was determined to say the boy's name as often as he could.\n\n\"Only death can pay for life, my lord. A great gift requires a great sacrifice.\"\n\n\"Where is the greatness in a baseborn child?\"\n\n\"He has kings' blood in his veins. You have seen what even a little of that blood could do-\"\n\n\"I saw you burn some leeches.\"\n\n\"And two false kings are dead.\"\n\n\"Robb Stark was murdered by Lord Walder of the Crossing, and we have heard that Balon Greyjoy fell from abridge. Who did your leeches kill?\"\n\n\"Do you doubt the power of R'hllor?\"\n\nNo. Davos remembered too well the living shadow that had squirmed from out her womb that night beneath Storm's End, its black hands pressing at her thighs. I must go carefully here, or some shadow may come seeking meas well. \"Even an onion smuggler knows two onions from three. You are short a king, my lady.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Stannis gave a snort of laughter. \"He has you there, my lady. Two is not three.\"\n\n\"To be sure, Your Grace. One king might die by chance, even two... but three? If Joffrey should die in the midst of all his power, surrounded by his armies and his Kingsguard, would not that show the power of the Lord at work?\"\n\n\"It might.\" The king spoke as if he grudged each word.\n\n\"Or not.\" Davos did his best to hide his fear.\n\n\"Joffrey shall die,\" Queen Selyse declared, serene in her confidence.\n\n\"It maybe that he is dead already,\" Ser Axell added.\n\nStannis looked at them with annoyance. \"Are you trained crows, to croak at me in turns? Enough.\"\n\n\"Husband, hear me-\" the queen entreated.\n\n\"Why? Two is not three. Kings can count as well as smugglers. You may go.\" Stannis turned his back on them.\n\nMelisandre helped the queen to her feet. Selyse swept stiffly from the chamber, the red woman trailing behind. Ser Axell lingered long enough to give Davos one last look. An ugly look on an ugly face, he thought as he met the stare.\n\nAfter the others had gone, Davos cleared his throat. The king looked up. \"Why are you still here?\"\n\n\"Sire, about Edric Storm...\"\n\nStannis made a sharp gesture. \"Spare me.\"\n\nDavos persisted. \"Your daughter takes her lessons with him, and plays with him everyday in Aegon's Garden.\"\n\n\"I know that.\"\n\n\"Her heart would break if anything ill should-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know that as well.\"\n\n\"If you would only see him-\"\n\n\"I have seen him. He looks like Robert. Aye, and worships him. Shall I tell him how often his beloved father ever gave him a thought? My brother liked the making of children well enough, but afterbirth they were a bother.\"\n\n\"He asks after you everyday, he-\"\n\n\"You are making me angry, Davos. I will hear no more of this bastard boy.\"\n\n\"His name is Edric Storm, sire.\"\n\n\"I know his name. Was there ever a name so apt? It proclaims his bastardy, his high birth, and the turmoil he brings with him. Edric Storm. There, I have said it. Are you satisfied, my lord Hand?\"\n\n\"Edric-\" he started.\n\n\"-is one boy! He maybe the best boy whoever drew breath and it would not matter. My duty is to the realm.\" His hand swept across the Painted Table. \"How many boys dwell in Westeros? How many girls? How many men, how many women? The darkness will devour them all, she says. The night that never ends. She talks of prophecies... a hero reborn in the sea, living dragons hatched from dead stone... she speaks of signs and swears they point tome. I never asked for this, no more than I asked to be king. Yet dare I disregard her?\" He ground his teeth. \"We do not choose our destinies. Yet we must... we must do our duty, no? Great or small, we must do our duty. Melisandre swears that she has seen me in her flames, facing the dark with Lightbringer raised on high. Lightbringer!\" Stannis gave a derisive snort. \"It glimmers prettily, I'll grant you, but on the Blackwater this magic sword served me no better than any common steel. A dragon would have turned that battle. Aegon once stood here as I do, looking down on this table. Do you think we would name him Aegon the Conqueror today if he had not had dragons?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your Grace,\" said Davos, \"the cost...\"\n\n\"I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning... burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?\" The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King's Landing. \"If Joffrey should die... what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?\"\n\n\"Everything,\" said Davos, softly.\n\nStannis looked at him, jaw clenched. \"Go,\" the king said at last, \"before you talk yourself back into the dungeon.\"\n\nSometimes the storm winds blow so strong a man has no choice but to furl his sails. \"Aye, Your Grace.\" Davos bowed, but Stannis had seemingly forgotten him already.\n\nIt was chilly in the yard when he left the Stone Drum. A wind blew briskly from the east, making the banners snap and flap noisily along the walls. Davos could smell salt in the air. The sea. He loved that smell. It made him want to walk a deck again, to raise his canvas and sail off south to Marya and his two small ones. He thought of them most everyday now, and even more at night. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to take Devan and go home. I cannot. Not yet. I am a lord now, and the King's Hand, I must not fail him.\n\nHe raised his eyes to gaze up at the walls. In place of merlons, a thousand grotesques and gargoyles looked down on him, each different from all the others; wyverns, griffins, demons, manticores, minotaurs, basilisks, hellhounds, cockatrices, and a thousand queerer creatures sprouted from the castle's battlements as if they'd grown there. And the dragons were everywhere. The Great Hall was a dragon lying on its belly. Men entered through its open mouth. The kitchens were a dragon curled up in a ball, with the smoke and steam of the ovens vented through its nostrils. The towers were dragons hunched above the walls or poised for flight; the Windwyrm seemed to scream defiance, while Sea Dragon Tower gazed serenely out across the waves. Smaller dragons framed the gates. Dragon claws emerged from walls to grasp at torches, great stone wings enfolded the smith and armory, and tails formed arches, bridges, and exterior stairs."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Davos had often heard it said that the wizards of Valyria did not cut and chisel as common masons did, but worked stone with fire and magic as a potter might work clay. But now he wondered. What if they were real dragons, somehow turned to stone?\n\n\"If the red woman brings them to life, the castle will come crashing down, I am thinking. What kind of dragons are full of rooms and stairs and furniture? And windows. And chimneys. And privy shafts.\"\n\nDavos turned to find Salladhor Saan beside him. \"Does this mean you have forgiven my treachery, Salla?\"\n\nThe old pirate wagged a finger at him. \"Forgiving, yes. Forgetting, no. All that good gold on Claw Isle that might have been mine, it makes me old and tired to think of it. When I die impoverished, my wives and concubines will curse you, Onion Lord. Lord Celtigar had many fine wines that now I am not tasting, a sea eagle he had trained to fly from the wrist, and a magic horn to summon krakens from the deep. Very useful such a horn would be, to pull down Tyroshi and other vexing creatures. But do I have this horn to blow? No, because the king made my old friend his Hand.\" He slipped his arm through Davos's and said, \"The queen's men love you not, old friend. I am hearing that a certain Hand has been making friends of his own. This is true, yes?\"\n\nYou hear too much, you old pirate. A smuggler had best know men as well as tides, or he would not live to smuggle long. The queen's men might remain fervent followers of the Lord of Light, but the lesser folk of Dragonstone were drifting back to the gods they'd known all their lives. They said Stannis was ensorceled, that Melisandre had turned him away from the Seven to bow before some demon out of shadow, and... worst sin of all... that she and her god had failed him. And there were knights and lordlings who felt the same. Davos had sought them out, choosing them with the same care with which he'd once picked his crews. Ser Gerald Gower fought stoutly on the Blackwater, but afterward had been heard to say that R'hllor must be a feeble god to let his followers be chased off by a dwarf and a dead man. Ser Andrew Estermont was the king's cousin, and had served as his squire years ago. The Bastard of Nightsong had commanded the rearguard that allowed Stannis to reach the safety of Salladhor Saan's galleys, but he worshiped the Warrior with a faith as fierce as he was. King's men, not queen's men. But it would not do to boast of them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A certain Lysene pirate once told me that a good smuggler stays out of sight,\" Davos replied carefully. \"Black sails, muffled oars, and a crew that knows how to hold their tongues.\"\n\nThe Lyseni laughed. \"A crew with no tongues is even better. Big strong mutes who cannot read or write.\" But then he grew more somber. \"But I am glad to know that someone watches your back, old friend. Will the king give the boy to the red priestess, do you think? One little dragon could end this great big war.\"\n\nOld habit made him reach for his luck, but his fingerbones no longer hung about his neck, and he found nothing. \"He will not do it,\" said Davos. \"He could not harm his own blood.\"\n\n\"Lord Renly will be glad to hear this.\"\n\n\"Renly was a traitor in arms. Edric Storm is innocent of any crime. His Grace is a just man.\"\n\nSalla shrugged. \"We shall be seeing. Or you shall. For myself, I am returning to sea. Even now, rascally smugglers maybe sailing across the Blackwater Bay, hoping to avoid paying their lord's lawful duties.\" He slapped Davos on the back. \"Take care. You with your mute friends. You are grown so very great now, yet the higher a man climbs the farther he has to fall.\"\n\nDavos reflected on those words as he climbed the steps of Sea Dragon Tower to the maester's chambers below the rookery. He did not need Salla to tell him that he had risen too high. I cannot read, I cannot write, the lords despise me, I know nothing of ruling, how can I be the King's Hand? I belong on the deck of a ship, not in a castle tower."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He had said as much to Maester Pylos."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You area notable captain,\" the maester replied. \"A captain rules his ship, does he not? He must navigate treacherous waters, set his sails to catch the rising wind, know when a storm is coming and how best to weather it. This is much the same.\"\n\nPylos meant it kindly, but his assurances rang hollow. \"It is not at all the same!\" Davos had protested. \"A kingdom's not a ship... and a good thing, or this kingdom would be sinking. I know wood and rope and water, yes, but how will that serve me now? Where do I find the wind to blow King Stannis to his throne?\"\n\nThe maester laughed at that. \"And there you have it, my lord. Words are wind, you know, and you've blown mine away with your good sense. His Grace knows what he has in you, I think.\"\n\n\"Onions,\" said Davos glumly. \"That is what he has in me. The King's Hand should be a highborn lord, someone wise and learned, a battle commander or a great knight...\"\n\n\"Ser Ryam Redwyne was the greatest knight of his day, and one of the worst Hands ever to serve a king. Septon Murmison's prayers worked miracles, but as Hand he soon had the whole realm praying for his death. Lord Butterwell was renowned for wit, Myles Smallwood for courage, Ser Otto Hightower for learning, yet they failed as Hands, everyone. As for birth, the dragonkings oft chose Hands from amongst their own blood, with results as various as Baelor Breakspear and Maegor the Cruel. Against this, you have Septon Barth, the blacksmith's son the Old King plucked from the Red Keep's library, who gave the realm forty years of peace and plenty.\" Pylos smiled. \"Read your history, Lord Davos, and you will see that your doubts are groundless.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Extend the plot as the writer's co-author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 56"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He had said as much to Maester Pylos."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You area notable captain,\" the maester replied. \"A captain rules his ship, does he not? He must navigate treacherous waters, set his sails to catch the rising wind, know when a storm is coming and how best to weather it. This is much the same.\"\n\nPylos meant it kindly, but his assurances rang hollow. \"It is not at all the same!\" Davos had protested. \"A kingdom's not a ship... and a good thing, or this kingdom would be sinking. I know wood and rope and water, yes, but how will that serve me now? Where do I find the wind to blow King Stannis to his throne?\"\n\nThe maester laughed at that. \"And there you have it, my lord. Words are wind, you know, and you've blown mine away with your good sense. His Grace knows what he has in you, I think.\"\n\n\"Onions,\" said Davos glumly. \"That is what he has in me. The King's Hand should be a highborn lord, someone wise and learned, a battle commander or a great knight...\"\n\n\"Ser Ryam Redwyne was the greatest knight of his day, and one of the worst Hands ever to serve a king. Septon Murmison's prayers worked miracles, but as Hand he soon had the whole realm praying for his death. Lord Butterwell was renowned for wit, Myles Smallwood for courage, Ser Otto Hightower for learning, yet they failed as Hands, everyone. As for birth, the dragonkings oft chose Hands from amongst their own blood, with results as various as Baelor Breakspear and Maegor the Cruel. Against this, you have Septon Barth, the blacksmith's son the Old King plucked from the Red Keep's library, who gave the realm forty years of peace and plenty.\" Pylos smiled. \"Read your history, Lord Davos, and you will see that your doubts are groundless.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How can I read history, when I cannot read?\"\n\n\"Any man can read, my lord,\" said Maester Pylos. \"There is no magic needed, nor high birth. I am teaching the art to your son, at the king's command. Let me teach you as well.\"\n\nIt was a kindly offer, and not one that Davos could refuse. And so everyday he repaired to the maester's chambers high atop Sea Dragon Tower, to frown over scrolls and parchments and great leather tomes and try to puzzle out a few more words. His efforts often gave him headaches, and made him feel as big a fool as Patchface besides. His son Devan was not yet twelve, yet he was well ahead of his father, and for Princess Shireen and Edric Storm reading seemed as natural as breathing. When it came to books, Davos was more a child than any of them. Yet he persisted. He was the King's Hand now, and a King's Hand should read.\n\nThe narrow twisting steps of Sea Dragon Tower had been a sore trial to Maester Cressen after he broke his hip. Davos still found himself missing the old man. He thought Stannis must as well. Pylos seemed clever and diligent and well-meaning, but he was so young, and the king did not confide in him as he had in Cressen. The old man had been with Stannis so long... Until he ran afoul of Melisandre, and died for it.\n\nAt the top of the steps Davos heard a soft jingle of bells that could only herald Patchface. The princess's fool was waiting outside the maester's door for her like a faithful hound. Dough-soft and slump-shouldered, his broad face tattooed in a motley pattern of red and green squares, Patchface wore a helm made of a rack of deer antlers strapped to a tin bucket. A dozen bells hung from the tines and rang when he moved... which meant constantly, since the fool seldom stood still. He jingled and jangled his way everywhere he went; small wonder that Pylos had exiled him from Shireen's lessons. \"Under the sea the old fish eat the young fish,\" the fool muttered at Davos. He bobbed his head, and his bells clanged and chimed and sang. \"I know, I know, oh oh oh.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Up here the young fish teach the old fish,\" said Davos, who never felt so ancient as when he sat down to try and read. It might have been different if aged Master Cressen had been the one teaching him, but Pylos was young enough to be his son.\n\nHe found the maester seated at his long wooden table covered with books and scrolls, across from the three children. Princess Shireen sat between the two boys. Even now Davos could take great pleasure in the sight of his own blood keeping company with a princess and a king's bastard. Devan will be a lord now, not merely a knight. The Lord of the Rainwood. Davos took more pride in that than in wearing the title himself. He reads too. He reads and he writes, as if he had been born to it. Pylos had naught but praise for his diligence, and the master-at-arms said Devan was showing promise with sword and lance as well. And he is a godly lad, too. \"My brothers have ascended to the Hall of Light, to sit beside the Lord,\" Devan had said when his father told him how his four elder brothers had died. \"I will pray for them at the nightfires, and for you as well, Father, so you might walk in the Light of the Lord till the end of your days.\"\n\n\"Good morrow to you, Father,\" the boy greeted him. He looks so much like Dale did at his age, Davos thought. His eldest had never dressed so fine as Devan in his squire's raiment, to be sure, but they shared the same square plain face, the same forthright brown eyes, the same thin brown flyaway hair. Devan's cheeks and chin were dusted with blond hair, a fuzz that would have shamed a proper peach, though the boy was fiercely proud of his'beard.\" Just as Dale was proud of his, once. Devan was the oldest of the three children at the table."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet Edric Storm was three inches taller and broader in the chest and shoulders. He was his father's son in that; nor did he ever miss a morning's work with sword and shield. Those old enough to have known Robert and Renly as children said that the bastard boy had more of their look than Stannis had ever shared; the coal-black hair, the deep blue eyes, the mouth, the jaw, the cheekbones. Only his ears reminded you that his mother had been a Florent.\n\n\"Yes, good morrow, my lord,\" Edric echoed. The boy could be fierce and proud, but the maesters and castellans and masters-at-arms who'd raised him had schooled him well in courtesy. \"Do you come from my uncle? How fares His Grace?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Davos lied. If truth be told, the king had a haggard, haunted look about him, but he saw no need to burden the boy with his fears. \"I hope I have not disturbed your lesson.\"\n\n\"We had just finished, my lord,\" Maester Pylos said.\n\n\"We were reading about King Daeron the First.\" Princess Shireen was a sad, sweet, gentle child, far from pretty. Stannis had given her his square jaw and Selyse her Florent ears, and the gods in their cruel wisdom had seen fit to compound her homeliness by afflicting her with greyscale in the cradle. The disease had left one cheek and half her neck grey and cracked and hard, though it had spared both her life and her sight. \"He went to war and conquered Dorne. The Young Dragon, they called him.\"\n\n\"He worshiped false gods,\" said Devan, \"but he was a great king otherwise, and very brave in battle.\"\n\n\"He was,\" agreed Edric Storm, \"but my father was braver. The Young Dragon never won three battles in a day.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The princess looked at him wide-eyed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did Uncle Robert win three battles in a day?\"\n\nThe bastard nodded. \"It was when he'd first come home to call his banners. Lords Grandison, Cafferen, and Fell planned to join their strength at Summerhall and march on Storm's End, but he learned their plans from an informer and rode at once with all his knights and squires. As the plotters came upon Summerhall one by one, he defeated each of them in turn before they could join up with the others. He slew Lord Fell in single combat and captured his son Silveraxe.\"\n\nDevan looked to Pylos. \"Is that how it happened?\"\n\n\"I said so, didn't I?\" Edric Storm said before the maester could reply. \"He smashed all three of them, and fought so bravely that Lord Grandison and Lord Cafferen became his men afterward, and Silveraxe too. No one ever beat my father.\"\n\n\"Edric, you ought not boast,\" Maester Pylos said. \"King Robert suffered defeats like any other man. Lord Tyrell bested him at Ashford, and he lost many a tourney tilt as well.\"\n\n\"He won more than he lost, though. And he killed Prince Rhaegar on the Trident.\"\n\n\"That he did,\" the maester agreed. \"But now I must give my attention to Lord Davos, who has waited so patiently. We will read more of King Daeron's Conquest of Dorne on the morrow.\"\n\nPrincess Shireen and the boys said their farewells courteously. When they had taken their leaves, Maester Pylos moved closer to Davos. \"My lord, perhaps you would like to try a bit of Conquest of Dorne as well?\" He slid the slender leather-bound book across the table. \"King Daeron wrote with an elegant simplicity, and his history is rich with blood, battle, and bravery. Your son is quite engrossed.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My son is not quite twelve. I am the King's Hand. Give me another letter, if you would.\"\n\n\"As you wish, my lord.\" Maester Pylos rummaged about his table, unrolling and then discarding various scraps of parchment. \"There are no new letters. Perhaps an old one...\"\n\nDavos enjoyed a good story as well as any man, but Stannis had not named him Hand for his enjoyment, he felt. His first duty was to help his king rule, and for that he must needs understand the words the ravens brought. The best way to learn a thing was to do it, he had found; sails or scrolls, it made no matter.\n\n\"This might serve our purpose.\" Pylos passed him a letter.\n\nDavos flattened down the little square of crinkled parchment and squinted at the tiny crabbed letters. Reading was hard on the eyes, that much he had learned early. Sometimes he wondered if the Citadel offered a champion's purse to the maester who wrote the smallest hand. Pylos had laughed at the notion, but...\n\n\"To the... five kings,\" read Davos, hesitating briefly over five, which he did not often see written out. \"The king... be... the king... beware?\"\n\n\"Beyond,\" the maester corrected.\n\nDavos grimaced. \"The King beyond the Wall comes... comes south. He leads a... a... fast...\"\n\n\"Vast.\"\n\n\"... avast host of wil... wild... wildlings. Lord M... Mmmor... Mormont sent a... raven from the... ha... ha...\"\n\n\"Haunted. The haunted forest.\" Pylos underlined the words with the point of his finger."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"..."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "the haunted forest. He is... under a... attack?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nPleased, he plowed onward. \"Oth... other birds have come since, with no words. We... fear... Mormont slain with all... with all his... stench... no, strength. We fear Mormont slain with all his strength...\" Davos suddenly realized just what he was reading. He turned the letter over, and saw that the wax that had sealed it had been black. \"This is from the Night's Watch. Maester, has King Stannis seen this letter?\"\n\n\"I brought it to Lord Alester when it first arrived. He was the Hand then. I believed he discussed it with the queen. When I asked him if he wished to send a reply, he told me not to be a fool. \"His Grace lacks the men to fight his own battles, he has none to waste on wildlings,\" he said tome.\"\n\nThat was true enough. And this talk of five kings would certainly have angered Stannis. \"Only a starving man begs bread from a beggar,\" he muttered.\n\n\"Pardon, my lord?\"\n\n\"Something my wife said once.\" Davos drummed his shortened fingers against the tabletop. The first time he had seen the Wall he had been younger than Devan, serving aboard the Cobblecat under Roro Uhoris, a Tyroshi known up and down the narrow sea as the Blind Bastard, though he was neither blind nor baseborn. Roro had sailed past Skagos into the Shivering Sea, visiting a hundred little coves that had never seen a trading ship before. He brought steel; swords, axes, helms, good chainmail hauberks, to trade for furs, ivory, amber, and obsidian. When the Cobblecat turned back south her holds were stuffed, but in the Bay of Seals three black galleys came out to herd her into Eastwatch. They lost their cargo and the Bastard lost his head, for the crime of trading weapons to the wildlings."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Davos had traded at Eastwatch in his smuggling days. The black brothers made hard enemies but good customers, fora ship with the right cargo. But while he might have taken their coin, he had never forgotten how the Blind Bastard's head had rolled across the Cobblecat's deck. \"I met some wildlings when I was a boy,\" he told Maester Pylos. \"They were fair thieves but bad hagglers. One made off with our cabin girl. All in all, they seemed men like any other men, some fair, some foul.\"\n\n\"Men are men,\" Maester Pylos agreed. \"Shall we return to our reading, my lord Hand?\"\n\nI am the Hand of the King, yes. Stannis might be the King of Westeros in name, but in truth he was the King of the Painted Table. He held Dragonstone and Storm's End, and had an ever-more-uneasy alliance with Salladhor Saan, but that was all. How could the Watch have looked to him for help? They may not know how weak he is, how lost his cause. \"King Stannis never saw this letter, you are quite certain? Nor Melisandre?\"\n\n\"No. Should I bring it to them? Even now?\"\n\n\"No,\" Davos said at once. \"You did your duty when you brought it to Lord Alester.\" If Melisandre knew of this letter... What was it she had said? One whose name may not bespoken is marshaling his power, Davos Seaworth. Soon comes the cold, and the night that never ends... And Stannis had seen a vision in the flames, a ring of torches in the snow with terror all around.\n\n\"My lord, are you unwell?\" asked Pylos."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I am frightened, Maester, he might have said. Davos was remembering a tale Salladhor Saan had told him, of how Azor Ahai tempered Lightbringer by thrusting it through the heart of the wife he loved. He slew his wife to fight the dark. If Stannis is Azor Ahai come again, does that mean Edric Storm must play the part of Nissa Nissa? \"I was thinking, Maester. My pardons.\" What harm if some wildling king conquers the north? It was not as though Stannis held the north. His Grace could scarcely be expected to defend people who refused to acknowledge him asking. \"Give me another letter,\" he said abruptly. \"This one is too...\"\n\n\"... difficult?\" suggested Pylos.\n\nSoon comes the cold, whispered Melisandre, and the night that never ends. \"Troubling,\" said Davos. \"Too... troubling. A different letter, please.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JON\n\nThey woke to the smoke of Mole's Town burning.\n\nAtop the King's Tower, Jon Snow leaned on the padded crutch that Maester Aemon had given him and watched the grey plume rise. Styr had lost all hope of taking Castle Black unawares when Jon escaped him, yet even so, he need not have warned of his approach so bluntly. You may kill us, he reflected, but no one will be butchered in their beds. That much I did, at least.\n\nHis leg still hurt like blazes when he put his weight on it. He'd needed Clydas to help him don his fresh-washed blacks and lace up his boots that morning, and by the time they were done he'd wanted to drown himself in the milk of the poppy. Instead he had settled for half a cup of dreamwine, a chew of willow bark, and the crutch. The beacon was burning on Weatherback Ridge, and the Night's Watch had need of every man.\n\n\"I can fight,\" he insisted when they tried to stop him.\n\n\"Your leg's healed, is it?\" Noye snorted. \"You won't mind me giving it a little kick, then?\"\n\n\"I'd sooner you didn't. It's stiff, but I can hobble around well enough, and stand and fight if you have need of me.\"\n\n\"I have need of every man who knows which end of the spear to stab into the wildlings.\"\n\n\"The pointy end.\" Jon had told his little sister something like that once, he remembered.\n\nNoye rubbed the bristle on his chin. \"Might be you'll do. We'll put you on a tower with a longbow, but if you bloody well falloff don't come crying tome.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could seethe kingsroad wending its way south through stony brown fields and over windswept hills. The Magnar would becoming up that road before the day was done, his Thenns marching behind him with axes and spears in their hands and their bronze-and-leather shields on their backs. Grigg the Goat, Quort, Big Boil, and the rest will becoming as well. And Ygritte. The wildlings had never been his friends, he had not allowed them to be his friends, but her...\n\nHe could feel the throb of pain where her arrow had gone through the meat and muscle of his thigh. He remembered the old man's eyes too, and the black blood rushing from his throat as the storm cracked overhead. But he remembered the grotto best of all, the look of her naked in the torchlight, the taste of her mouth when it opened under his. Ygritte, stay away. Go south and raid, go hide in one of those roundtowers you liked so well. You'll find nothing here but death.\n\nAcross the yard, one of the bowmen on the roof of the old Flint Barracks had unlaced his breeches and was pissing through a crenel. Mully, he knew from the man's greasy orange hair. Men in black cloaks were visible on other roofs and tower tops as well, though nine of every ten happened to be made of straw. \"The scarecrow sentinels,\" Donal Noye called them. Only we're the crows, Jon mused, and most of us were scared enough.\n\nWhatever you called them, the straw soldiers had been Maester Aemon's notion. They had more breeches and jerkins and tunics in the storerooms than they'd had men to fill them, so why not stuff some with straw, drape a cloak around their shoulders, and set them to standing watches? Noye had placed them on every tower and in half the windows. Some were even clutching spears, or had crossbows cocked under their arms. The hope was that the Thenns would see them from afar and decide that Castle Black was too well defended to attack."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon had six scarecrows sharing the roof of the King's Tower with him, along with two actual breathing brothers. Deaf Dick Follard satin a crenel, methodically cleaning and oiling the mechanism of his crossbow to make sure the wheel turned smoothly, while the Oldtown boy wandered restlessly around the parapets, fussing with the clothes on straw men. Maybe he thinks they will fight better if they're posed just right. Or maybe this waiting is fraying his nerves the way it's fraying mine.\n\nThe boy claimed to be eighteen, older than Jon, but he was green as summer grass for all that. Satin, they called him, even in the wool and mail and boiled leather of the Night's Watch; the name he'd gotten in the brothel where he'd been born and raised. He was pretty as a girl with his dark eyes, soft skin, and raven's ringlets. Half a year at Castle Black had toughened up his hands, however, and Noye said he was passable with a crossbow. Whether he had the courage to face what was coming, though...\n\nJon used the crutch to limp across the tower top. The King's Tower was not the castle's tallest-the high, slim, crumbling Lance held that honor, though Othell Yarwyck had been heard to say it might topple any day. Nor was the King's Tower strongest-the Tower of Guards beside the kingsroad would be a tougher nut to crack. But it was tall enough, strong enough, and well placed beside the Wall, overlooking the gate and the foot of the wooden stair.\n\nThe first time he had seen Castle Black with his own eyes, Jon had wondered why anyone would be so foolish as to build a castle without walls. How could it be defended?\n\n\"It can't,\" his uncle told him. \"That is the point. The Night's Watch is pledged to take no part in the quarrels of the realm. Yet over the centuries certain Lords Commander, more proud than wise, forgot their vows and near destroyed us all with their ambitions. Lord Commander Runcel Hightower tried to bequeathe the Watch to his bastard son. Lord Commander Rodrik Flint thought to make himself King-beyond-the-Wall. Tristan Mudd, Mad Marq Rankenfell, Robin Hill... did you know that six hundred years ago, the commanders at Snowgate and the Nightfort went to war against each other? And when the Lord Commander tried to stop them, they joined forces to murder him? The Stark in Winterfell had to take a hand... and both their heads. Which he did easily, because their strongholds were not defensible. The Night's Watch had nine hundred and ninety-six Lords Commander before Jeor Mormont, most of them men of courage and honor... but we have had cowards and fools as well, our tyrants and our madmen. We survive because the lords and kings of the Seven Kingdoms know that we pose no threat to them, no matter who should lead us. Our only foes are to the north, and to the north we have the Wall.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Only now those foes have gotten past the Wall to come up from the south, Jon reflected, and the lords and kings of the Seven Kingdoms have forgotten us. We are caught between the hammer and the anvil. Without a wall Castle Black could not beheld; Donal Noye knew that as well as any. \"The castle does them no good,\" the armorer told his little garrison. \"Kitchens, common hall, stables, even the towers... let them take it all. We'll empty the armory and move what stores we canto the top of the Wall, and make our stand around the gate.\"\n\nSo Castle Black had a wall of sorts at last, a crescent-shaped barricade ten feet high made of stores; casks of nails and barrels of salt mutton, crates, bales of black broadcloth, stacked logs, sawn timbers, fire-hardened stakes, and sacks and sacks of grain. The crude rampart enclosed the two things most worth defending; the gate to the north, and the foot of the great wooden switchback stair that clawed and climbed its way up the face of the Wall like a drunken thunderbolt, supported by wooden beams as big as tree trunks driven deep into the ice.\n\nThe last few moles were still making the long climb, Jon saw, urged on by his brothers. Grenn was carrying a little boy in his arms, while Pyp, two flights below, let an old man lean upon his shoulder. The oldest villagers still waited below for the cage to make its way back down to them. He saw a mother pulling along two children, one on either hand, as an older boy ran past her up the steps. Two hundred feet above them, Sky Blue Su and Lady Meliana (who was no lady, all her friends agreed) stood on a landing, looking south. They had a better view of the smoke than he did, no doubt. Jon wondered about the villagers who had chosen not to flee. There were always a few, too stubborn or too stupid or too brave to run, a few who preferred to fight or hide or bend the knee. Maybe the Thenns would spare them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The thing to do would be to take the attack to them, he thought. With fifty rangers well mounted, we could cut them apart on the road. They did not have fifty rangers, though, nor half as many horses. The garrison had not returned, and there was noway to know just where they were, or even whether the riders that Noye had sent out had reached them.\n\nWe are the garrison, Jon told himself, and look at us. The brothers Bowen Marsh had left behind were old men, cripples, and green boys, just as Donal Noye had warned him. He could see some wrestling barrels up the steps, others on the barricade; stout old Kegs, as slow as ever, Spare Boot hopping along briskly on his carved wooden leg, half-mad Easy who fancied himself Florian the Fool reborn, Dornish Dilly, Red Alyn of the Rosewood, Young Henly (well past fifty), Old Henly (well past seventy), Hairy Hal, Spotted Pate of Maidenpool. A couple of them saw Jon looking down from atop the King's Tower and waved up at him. Others turned away. They still think me a turncloak. That was a bitter draft to drink, but Jon could not blame them. He was a bastard, after all. Everyone knew that bastards were wanton and treacherous by nature, having been born of lust and deceit. And he had made as many enemies as friends at Castle Black... Rast, for one. Jon had once threatened to have Ghost rip his throat out unless he stopped tormenting Samwell Tarly, and Rast did not forget things like that. He was raking dry leaves into piles under the stairs just now, but every so often he stopped long enough to give Jon a nasty look."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" Donal Noye roared at three of the Mole's Town men, down below. \"The pitch goes to the hoist, the oil up the steps, crossbow bolts to the fourth, fifth, and sixth landings, spears to first and second. Stack the lard under the stair, yes, there, behind the planks. The casks of meat are for the barricade. Now, you poxy plow pushers, NOW!\"\n\nHe has a lord's voice, Jon thought. His father had always said that in battle a captain's lungs were as important as his sword arm. \"It does not matter how brave or brilliant a man is, if his commands cannot be heard,\" Lord Eddard told his sons, so Robb and he used to climb the towers of Winterfell to shout at each other across the yard. Donal Noye could have drowned out both of them. The moles all went in terror of him, and rightfully so, since he was always threatening to rip their heads off.\n\nThree-quarters of the village had taken Jon's warning to heart and come to Castle Black for refuge. Noye had decreed that every man still spry enough to hold a spear or swing an axe would help defend the barricade, else they could damn well go home and take their chances with the Thenns. He had emptied the armory to put good steel in their hands; big double-bladed axes, razor-sharp daggers, longswords, maces, spiked morningstars. Clad in studded leather jerkins and mail hauberks, with greaves for their legs and gorgets to keep their heads on their shoulders, a few of them even looked like soldiers. Ina bad light. If you squint.\n\nNoye had put the women and children to work as well. Those too young to fight would carry water and tend the fires, the Mole's Town midwife would assist Clydas and Maester Aemon with any wounded, and Three-Finger Hobb suddenly had more spit boys, kettle stirrers, and onion choppers than he knew what to do with. Two of the whores had even offered to fight, and had shown enough skill with the crossbow to be given a place on the steps forty feet up."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's cold.\" Satin stood with his hands tucked into his armpits under his cloak. His cheeks were bright red.\n\nJon made himself smile. \"The Frostfangs are cold. This is a brisk autumn day.\"\n\n\"I hope I never seethe Frostfangs then. I knew a girl in Oldtown who liked to ice her wine. That's the best place for ice, I think. In wine.\" Satin glanced south, frowned. \"You think the scarecrow sentinels scared them off, my lord?\"\n\n\"We can hope.\" It was possible, Jon supposed... but more likely the wildlings had simply paused fora bit of rape and plunder in Mole's Town. Or maybe Styr was waiting for nightfall, to move up undercover of darkness.\n\nMidday came and went, with still no sign of Thenns on the kingsroad. Jon heard footsteps inside the tower, though, and Owen the Oaf popped up out of the trapdoor, red-faced from the climb. He had a basket of buns under one arm, a wheel of cheese under the other, a bag of onions dangling from one hand. \"Hobb said to feed you, in case you're stuck up here awhile.\"\n\nThat, or for our last meal. \"Thank him for us, Owen.\"\n\nDick Follard was deaf as a stone, but his nose worked well enough. The buns were still warm from the oven when he went digging in the basket and plucked one out. He found a crock of butter as well, and spread some with his dagger. \"Raisins,\" he announced happily. \"Nuts, too.\" His speech was thick, but easy enough to understand once you got used to it.\n\n\"You can have mine too,\" said Satin. \"I'm not hungry.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Eat,\" Jon told him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's no knowing when you'll have another chance.\" He took two buns himself. The nuts were pine nuts, and besides the raisins there were bits of dried apple.\n\n\"Will the wildlings come today, Lord Snow?\" Owen asked.\n\n\"You'll know if they do,\" said Jon. \"Listen for the horns.\"\n\n\"Two. Two is for wildlings.\" Owen was tall, towheaded, and amiable, a tireless worker and surprisingly deft when it came to working wood and fixing catapults and the like, but as he'd gladly tell you, his mother had dropped him on his head when he was a baby, and half his wits had leaked out through his ear.\n\n\"You remember whereto go?\" Jon asked him.\n\n\"I'm to go to the stairs, Donal Noye says. I'm to go up to the third landing and shoot my crossbow down at the wildlings if they try to climb over the barrier. The third landing, one two three.\" His head bobbed up and down. \"If the wildlings attack, the king will come and help us, won't he? He's a mighty warrior, King Robert. He's sure to come. Maester Aemon sent him a bird.\"\n\nThere was no use telling him that Robert Baratheon was dead. He would forget it, as he'd forgotten it before. \"Maester Aemon sent him a bird,\" Jon agreed. That seemed to make Owen happy.\n\nMaester Aemon had sent a lot of birds... not to one king, but to four. Wildlings at the gate, the message ran. The realm in danger. Send all the help you canto Castle Black. Even as far as Oldtown and the Citadel the ravens flew, and to half a hundred mighty lords in their castles. The northern lords offered their best hope, so to them Aemon had sent two birds. To the Umbers and the Boltons, to Castle Cerwyn and Torrhen's Square, Karhold and Deepwood Motte, to Bear Island, Oldcastle, Widow's Watch, White Harbor, Barrowton, and the Rills, to the mountain fastnesses of the Liddles, the Burleys, the Norreys, the Harclays, and the Wulls, the blackbirds brought their plea. Wildlings at the gate. The north in danger. Come with all your strength."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Well, ravens might have wings, but lords and kings do not. If help was coming, it would not come today.\n\nAs morning turned to afternoon, the smoke of Mole's Town blew away and the southern sky was clear again. No clouds, thought Jon. That was good. Rain or snow could doom them all.\n\nClydas and Maester Aemon rode the winch cage up to safety at the top of the Wall, and most of the Mole's Town wives as well. Men in black cloaks paced restlessly on the tower tops and shouted back and forth across the courtyards. Septon Cellador led the men on the barricade in a prayer, beseeching the Warrior to give them strength. Deaf Dick Follard curled up beneath his cloak and went to sleep. Satin walked a hundred leagues in circles, round and round the crenellations. The Wall wept and the sun crept across a hard blue sky. Near evenfall, Owen the Oaf returned with a loaf of black bread and a pail of Hobb's best mutton, cooked in a thick broth of ale and onions. Even Dick woke up for that. They ate every bit of it, using chunks of bread to wipe the bottom of the pail. By the time they were done the sun was low in the west, the shadows sharp and black throughout the castle. \"Light the fire,\" Jon told Satin, \"and fill the kettle with oil.\"\n\nHe went downstairs himself to bar the door, to try and work some of the stiffness from his leg. That was a mistake, and Jon soon knew it, but he clutched the crutch and saw it through all the same. The door to the King's Tower was oak studded with iron. It might delay the Thenns, but it would not stop them if they wanted to come in. Jon slammed the bar down in its notches, paid a visit to the privy-it might well be his last chance-and hobbled backup to the roof, grimacing at the pain."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The west had gone the color of a blood bruise, but the sky above was cobalt blue, deepening to purple, and the stars were coming out."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon sat between two merlons with only a scarecrow for company and watched the Stallion gallop up the sky. Or was it the Horned Lord? He wondered where Ghost was now. He wondered about Ygritte as well, and told himself that waylay madness.\n\nThey came in the night, of course. Like thieves, Jon thought. Like murderers.\n\nSatin pissed himself when the horns blew, but Jon pretended not to notice. \"Go shake Dick by the shoulder,\" he told the Oldtown boy, \"else he's liable to sleep through the fight.\"\n\n\"I'm frightened.\" Satin's face was a ghastly white.\n\n\"So are they.\" Jon leaned his crutch up against a merlon and took up his longbow, bending the smooth thick Dornish yew to slip a bowstring through the notches. \"Don't waste a quarrel unless you know you have a good clean shot,\" he said when Satin returned from waking Dick. \"We have an ample supply up here, but ample doesn't mean inexhaustible. And step behind a merlon to reload, don't try and hide in back of a scarecrow. They're made of straw, an arrow will punch through them.\" He did not bother telling Dick Follard anything. Dick could read your lips if there was enough light and he gave a damn what you were saying, but he knew it all already.\n\nThe three of them took up positions on three sides of the round tower. Jon hung a quiver from his belt and pulled an arrow. The shaft was black, the fletching grey. Ashe notched it to his string, he remembered something that Theon Greyjoy had once said after a hunt. \"The boar can keep his tusks and the bear his claws,\" he had declared, smiling that way he did. \"There's nothing half so mortal as a grey goose feather.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon had never been half the hunter that Theon was, but he was no stranger to the longbow either. There were dark shapes slipping around the armory, backs against the stone, but he could not see them well enough to waste an arrow. He heard distant shouts, and saw the archers on the Tower of Guards loosing shafts at the ground. That was too far off to concern Jon. But when he glimpsed three shadows detach themselves from the old stables fifty yards away, he stepped up to the crenel, raised his bow, and drew. They were running, so he led them, waiting, waiting...\n\nThe arrow made a soft hiss as it left his string. A moment later there was a grunt, and suddenly only two shadows were loping across the yard. They ran all the faster, but Jon had already pulled a second arrow from his quiver. This time he hurried the shot too much, and missed. The wildlings were gone by the time he nocked again. He searched for another target, and found four, rushing around the empty shell of the Lord Commander's Keep. The moonlight glimmered off their spears and axes, and the gruesome devices on their round leathern shields; skulls and bones, serpents, bear claws, twisted demonic faces. Free folk, he knew. The Thenns carried shields of black boiled leather with bronze rims and bosses, but theirs were plain and unadorned. These were the lighter wicker shields of raiders.\n\nJon pulled the goose feather back to his ear, aimed, and loosed the arrow, then nocked and drew and loosed again. The first shaft pierced the bearclaw shield, the second one a throat. The wildling screamed as he went down. He heard the deep thrum of Deaf Dick's crossbow to his left, and Satin's a moment later. \"I got one!\" the boy cried hoarsely. \"I got one in the chest.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Get another,\" Jon called.\n\nHe did not have to search for targets now; only choose them. He dropped a wildling archer as he was fitting an arrow to his string, then sent a shaft toward the axeman hacking at the door of Hardin's Tower. That time he missed, but the arrow quivering in the oak made the wildling reconsider. It was only as he was running off that Jon recognized Big Boil. Half a heartbeat later, old Mully put an arrow through his leg from the roof of the Flint Barracks, and he crawled off bleeding. That will stop him bitching about his boil, Jon thought.\n\nWhen his quiver was empty, he went to get another, and moved to a different crenel, side by side with Deaf Dick Follard. Jon got off three arrows for every bolt Deaf Dick discharged, but that was the advantage of the longbow. The crossbow penetrated better, some insisted, but it was slow and cumbersome to reload. He could hear the wildlings shouting to each other, and somewhere to the west a warhorn blew. The world was moonlight and shadow, and time became an endless round of notch and draw and loose. A wildling arrow ripped through the throat of the straw sentinel beside him, but Jon Snow scarcely noticed. Give me one clean shot at the Magnar of Thenn, he prayed to his father's gods. The Magnar at least was a foe that he could hate. Give me Styr.\n\nHis fingers were growing stiff and his thumb was bleeding, but still Jon notched and drew and loosed. A gout of flame caught his eye, and he turned to seethe door of the common hall afire. It was only a few moments before the whole great timbered hall was burning. Three-Finger Hobb and his Mole's Town helpers were safe atop the Wall, he knew, but it felt like a punch in the belly all the same. \"JON,\" Deaf Dick yelled in his thick voice, \"the armory.\" They were on the roof, he saw. One had a torch. Dick hopped upon the crenel fora better shot, jerked his crossbow to his shoulder, and sent a quarrel thrumming toward the torch man. He missed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The archer down below him didn't.\n\nFollard never made a sound, only toppled forward headlong over the parapet. It was a hundred feet to the yard below. Jon heard the thump as he was peering round a straw soldier, trying to see where the arrow had come from. Not ten feet from Deaf Dick's body, he glimpsed a leather shield, a ragged cloak, a mop of thick red hair. Kissed by fire, he thought, lucky. He brought his bow up, but his fingers would not part, and she was gone as suddenly as she'd appeared. He swiveled, cursing, and loosed a shaft at the men on the armory roof instead, but he missed them as well.\n\nBy then the east stables were afire too, black smoke and wisps of burning hay pouring from the stalls. When the roof collapsed, flames rose up roaring, so loud they almost drowned out the warhorns of the Thenns. Fifty of them were pounding up the kingsroad in tight column, their shields held up above their heads. Others were swarming through the vegetable garden, across the flagstone yard, around the old dry well. Three had hacked their way through the doors of Maester Aemon's apartments in the timber keep below the rookery, and a desperate fight was going on atop the Silent Tower, longswords against bronze axes. None of that mattered. The dance has moved on, he thought.\n\nJon hobbled across to Satin and grabbed him by the shoulder. \"With me,\" he shouted. Together they moved to the north parapet, where the King's Tower looked down on the gate and Donal Noye's makeshift wall of logs and barrels and sacks of corn. The Thenns were there before them. They wore halfhelms, and had thin bronze disks sewn to their long leather shirts. Many wielded bronze axes, though a few were chipped stone. More had short stabbing spears with leaf-shaped heads that gleamed redly in the light from the burning stables. They were screaming in the Old Tongue as they stormed the barricade, jabbing with their spears, swinging their bronze axes, spilling corn and blood with equal abandon while crossbow quarrels and arrows rained down on them from the archers that Donal Noye had posted on the stair."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What do we do?\" Satin shouted.\n\n\"We kill them,\" Jon shouted back, a black arrow in his hand.\n\nNo archer could have asked for an easier shot. The Thenns had their backs to the King's Tower as they charged the crescent, clambering over bags and barrels to reach the men in black. Both Jon and Satin chanced to choose the same target. He had just reached the top of the barricade when an arrow sprouted from his neck and a quarrel between his shoulder blades. Half a heartbeat later a longsword took him in the belly and he fell back onto the man behind him. Jon reached down to his quiver and found it empty again. Satin was winding back his crossbow. He left him to it and went for more arrows, but he hadn't taken more than three steps before the trap slammed open three feet in front of him. Bloody hell, I never even heard the door break.\n\nThere was no time to think or plan or shout for help. Jon dropped his bow, reached back over his shoulder, ripped Longclaw from its sheath, and buried the blade in the middle of the first head to pop out of the tower. Bronze was no match for Valyrian steel. The blow sheared right through the Thenn's helm and deep into his skull, and he went crashing back down where he'd come from. There were more behind him, Jon knew from the shouting. He fell back and called to Satin. The next man to make the climb got a quarrel through his cheek. He vanished too. \"The oil,\" Jon said. Satin nodded. Together they snatched up the thick quilted pads they'd left beside the fire, lifted the heavy kettle of boiling oil, and dumped it down the hole on the Thenns below. The shrieks were as bad as anything he had ever heard, and Satin looked as though he was going to be sick. Jon kicked the trapdoor shut, set the heavy iron kettle on top of it, and gave the boy with the pretty face a hard shake. \"Retch later,\" Jon yelled. \"Come.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had only been gone from the parapets fora few moments, but everything below had changed. A dozen black brothers and a few Mole's Town men still stood atop the crates and barrels, but the wildlings were swarming overall along the crescent, pushing them back. Jon saw one shove his spear up through Rast's belly so hard he lifted him into the air. Young Henly was dead and Old Henly was dying, surrounded by foes. He could see Easy spinning and slashing, laughing like a loon, his cloak flapping as he leapt from cask to cask. A bronze axe caught him just below the knee and the laughter turned into a bubbling shriek.\n\n\"They're breaking,\" Satin said.\n\n\"No,\" said Jon, \"they're broken.\"\n\nIt happened quickly. One mole fled and then another, and suddenly all the villagers were throwing down their weapons and abandoning the barricade. The brothers were too few to hold alone. Jon watched them try and form a line to fallback in order, but the Thenns washed over them with spear and axe, and then they were fleeing too. Dornish Dilly slipped and went down on his face, and a wildling planted a spear between his shoulder blades. Kegs, slow and short of breath, had almost reached the bottom step when a Thenn caught the end of his cloak and yanked him around... but a crossbow quarrel dropped the man before his axe could fall. \"Got him,\" Satin crowed, as Kegs staggered to the stair and began to crawl up the stepson hands and knees.\n\nThe gate is lost. Donal Noye had closed and chained it, but it was therefor the taking, the iron bars glimmering red with reflected firelight, the cold black tunnel behind. No one had fallen back to defend it; the only safety was on top of the Wall, seven hundred feet up the crooked wooden stairs."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What gods do you pray to?\" Jon asked Satin.\n\n\"The Seven,\" the boy from Oldtown said.\n\n\"Pray, then,\" Jon told him. \"Pray to your new gods, and I'll pray to my old ones.\" It all turned here.\n\nWith the confusion at the trapdoor, Jon had forgotten to fill his quiver. He limped back across the roof and did that now, and picked up his bow as well. The kettle had not moved from where he'd left it, so it seemed as though they were safe enough for the nonce. The dance has moved on, and we're watching from the gallery, he thought as he hobbled back. Satin was loosing quarrels at the wildlings on the steps, then ducking down behind a merlon to cock the crossbow. He maybe pretty, but he's quick.\n\nThe real battle was on the steps. Noye had put spearmen on the two lowest landings, but the headlong flight of the villagers had panicked them and they had joined the flight, racing up toward the third landing with the Thenns killing anyone who fell behind. The archers and crossbowmen on the higher landings were trying to drop shafts over their heads. Jon nocked an arrow, drew, and loosed, and was pleased when one of the wildlings went rolling down the steps. The heat of the fires was making the Wall weep, and the flames danced and shimmered against the ice. The steps shook to the footsteps of men running for their lives.\n\nAgain Jon notched and drew and loosed, but there was only one of him and one of Satin, and a good sixty or seventy Thenns pounding up the stairs, killing as they went, drunk on victory. On the fourth landing, three brothers in black cloaks stood shoulder to shoulder with longswords in their hands, and battle was joined again, briefly. But there were only three and soon enough the wildling tide washed over them, and their blood dripped down the steps. \"A man is never so vulnerable in battle as when he flees,\" Lord Eddard had told Jon once. \"A running man is like a wounded animal to a soldier. It gets his bloodlust up.\" The archers on the fifth landing fled before the battle even reached them. It was a rout, a red rout."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fetch the torches,\" Jon told Satin. There were four of them stacked beside the fire, their heads wrapped in oily rags. There were a dozen fire arrows too. The Oldtown boy thrust one torch into the fire until it was blazing brightly, and brought the rest back under his arm, unlit. He looked frightened again, as well he might. Jon was frightened too.\n\nIt was then that he saw Styr. The Magnar was climbing up the barricade, over the gutted corn sacks and smashed barrels and the bodies of friends and foe alike. His bronze scale armor gleamed darkly in the firelight. Styr had taken off his helm to survey the scene of his triumph, and the bald earless whoreson was smiling. In his hand was along weirwood spear with an ornate bronze head. When he saw the gate, he pointed the spear at it and barked something in the Old Tongue to the half-dozen Thenns around him. Too late, Jon thought. You should have led your men over the barricade, you might have been able to save a few.\n\nUp above, a warhorn sounded, long and low. Not from the top of the Wall, but from the ninth landing, some two hundred feet up, where Donal Noye was standing.\n\nJon notched afire arrow to his bowstring, and Satin lit it from the torch. He stepped to the parapet, drew, aimed, loosed. Ribbons of flame trailed behind as the shaft sped downward and thudded into its target, crackling.\n\nNot Styr. The steps. Or more precisely, the casks and kegs and sacks that Donal Noye had piled up beneath the steps, as high as the first landing; the barrels of lard and lamp oil, the bags of leaves and oily rags, the split logs, bark, and wood shavings. \"Again,\" said Jon, and, \"Again,\" and, \"Again.\" Other longbowmen were firing too, from every tower top in range, some sending their arrows up in high arcs to drop before the Wall. When Jon ran out of fire arrows, he and Satin began to light the torches and fling them from the crenels."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Up above another fire was blooming."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The old wooden steps had drunk up oil like a sponge, and Donal Noye had drenched them from the ninth landing all the way down to the seventh. Jon could only hope that most of their own people had staggered up to safety before Noye threw the torches. The black brothers at least had known the plan, but the villagers had not.\n\nWind and fire did the rest. All Jon had to do was watch. With flames below and flames above, the wildlings had nowhere to go. Some continued upward, and died. Some went downward, and died. Some stayed where they were. They died as well. Many leapt from the steps before they burned, and died from the fall. Twenty-odd Thenns were still huddled together between the fires when the ice cracked from the heat, and the whole lower third of the stair broke off, along with several tons of ice. That was the last that Jon Snow saw of Styr, the Magnar of Thenn. The Wall defends itself, he thought.\n\nJon asked Satin to help him down to the yard. His wounded leg hurt so badly that he could hardly walk, even with the crutch. \"Bring the torch,\" he told the boy from Oldtown. \"I need to look for someone.\" It had been mostly Thenns on the steps. Surely some of the free folk had escaped. Mance's people, not the Magnar's. She might have been one. So they climbed down past the bodies of the men who'd tried the trapdoor, and Jon wandered through the dark with his crutch under one arm, and the other around the shoulders of a boy who'd been a whore in Oldtown.\n\nThe stables and the common hall had burned down to smoking cinders by then, but the fire still raged along the wall, climbing step by step and landing by landing. From time to time they'd hear a groan and then a craaaack, and another chunk would come crashing off the Wall. The air was full of ash and ice crystals."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He found Quort dead, and Stone Thumbs dying. He found some dead and dying Thenns he had never truly known. He found Big Boil, weak from all the blood he'd lost but still alive.\n\nHe found Ygritte sprawled across a patch of old snow beneath the Lord Commander's Tower, with an arrow between her breasts. The ice crystals had settled over her face, and in the moonlight it looked as though she wore a glittering silver mask.\n\nThe arrow was black, Jon saw, but it was fletched with white duck feathers. Not mine, he told himself, not one of mine. But he felt as if it were.\n\nWhen he knelt in the snow beside her, her eyes opened. \"Jon Snow,\" she said, very softly. It sounded as though the arrow had found a lung. \"Is this a proper castle now? Not just a tower?\"\n\n\"It is.\" Jon took her hand.\n\n\"Good,\" she whispered. \"I wanted t' see one proper castle, before... before I...\"\n\n\"You'll see a hundred castles,\" he promised her. \"The battle's done. Maester Aemon will see to you.\" He touched her hair. \"You're kissed by fire, remember? Lucky. It will take more than an arrow to kill you. Aemon will draw it out and patch you up, and we'll get you some milk of the poppy for the pain.\"\n\nShe just smiled at that. \"D'you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave. I told you so.\"\n\n\"We'll go back to the cave,\" he said. \"You're not going to die, Ygritte. You're not.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. \"You know nothing, Jon Snow,\" she sighed, dying."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "BRAN\n\nIt is only another empty castle,\" Meera Reed said as she gazed across the desolation of rubble, ruins, and weeds.\n\nNo, thought Bran, it is the Nightfort, and this is the end of the world. In the mountains, all he could think of was reaching the Wall and finding the three-eyed crow, but now that they were here he was filled with fears. The dream he'd had... the dream Summer had had... No, I mustn't think about that dream. He had not even told the Reeds, though Meera at least seemed to sense that something was wrong. If he never talked of it maybe he could forget he ever dreamed it, and then it wouldn't have happened and Robb and Grey Wind would still be...\n\n\"Hodor.\" Hodor shifted his weight, and Bran with it. He was tired. They had been walking for hours. At least he's not afraid. Bran was scared of this place, and almost as scared of admitting it to the Reeds. I'm a prince of the north, a Stark of Winterfell, almost a man grown, I have to be as brave as Robb.\n\nJojen gazed up at him with his dark green eyes. \"There's nothing hereto hurt us, Your Grace.\"\n\nBran wasn't so certain. The Nightfort had figured in some of Old Nan's scariest stories. It was here that Night's King had reigned, before his name was wiped from the memory of man. This was where the Rat Cook had served the Andal king his prince-and-bacon pie, where the seventy-nine sentinels stood their watch, where brave young Danny Flint had been raped and murdered. This was the castle where King Sherrit had called down his curse on the Andals of old, where the'prentice boys had faced the thing that came in the night, where blind Symeon Star-Eyes had seen the hellhounds fighting. Mad Axe had once walked these yards and climbed these towers, butchering his brothers in the dark."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "All that had happened hundreds and thousands of years ago, to be sure, and some maybe never happened at all."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Maester Luwin always said that Old Nan's stories shouldn't be swallowed whole. But once his uncle came to see Father, and Bran asked about the Nightfort. Benjen Stark never said the tales were true, but he never said they weren't; he only shrugged and said, \"We left the Nightfort two hundred years ago,\" as if that was an answer.\n\nBran forced himself to look around. The morning was cold but bright, the sun shining down from a hard blue sky, but he did not like the noises. The wind made a nervous whistling sound as it shivered through the broken towers, the keeps groaned and settled, and he could hear rats scrabbling under the floor of the great hall. The Rat Cook's children running from their father. The yards were small forests where spindly trees rubbed their bare branches together and dead leaves scuttled like roaches across patches of old snow. There were trees growing where the stables had been, and a twisted white weirwood pushing up through the gaping hole in the roof of the domed kitchen. Even Summer was not at ease here. Bran slipped inside his skin, just for an instant, to get the smell of the place. He did not like that either.\n\nAnd there was noway through.\n\nBran had told them there wouldn't be. He had told them and told them, but Jojen Reed had insisted on seeing for himself. He had had a green dream, he said, and his green dreams did not lie. They don't open any gates either, thought Bran.\n\nThe gate the Nightfort guarded had been sealed since the day the black brothers had loaded up their mules and garrons and departed for Deep Lake; its iron portcullis lowered, the chains that raised it carried off, the tunnel packed with stone and rubble all frozen together until they were as impenetrable as the Wall itself. \"We should have followed Jon,\" Bran said when he saw it. He thought of his bastard brother often, since the night that Summer had watched him ride off through the storm. \"We should have found the kingsroad and gone to Castle Black.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We dare not, my prince,\" Jojen said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I've told you why.\"\n\n\"But there are wildlings. They killed some man and they wanted to kill Jon too. Jojen, there were a hundred of them.\"\n\n\"So you said. We are four. You helped your brother, if that was him in truth, but it almost cost you Summer.\"\n\n\"I know,\" said Bran miserably. The direwolf had killed three of them, maybe more, but there had been too many. When they formed a tight ring around the tall earless man, he had tried to slip away through the rain, but one of their arrows had come flashing after him, and the sudden stab of pain had driven Bran out of the wolf's skin and back into his own. After the storm finally died, they had huddled in the dark without afire, talking in whispers if they talked at all, listening to Hodor's heavy breathing and wondering if the wildlings might try and cross the lake in the morning. Bran had reached out for Summertime and time again, but the pain he found drove him back, the way a red-hot kettle makes you pull your hand back even when you mean to grab it. Only Hodor slept that night, muttering'Hodor, hodor,\" as he tossed and turned. Bran was terrified that Summer was off dying in the darkness. Please, you old gods, he prayed, you took Winterfell, and my father, and my legs, please don't take Summer too. And watch over Jon Snow too, and make the wildlings go away.\n\nNo weirwoods grew on that stony island in the lake, yet somehow the old gods must have heard. The wildlings took their sweet time about departing the next morning, stripping the bodies of their dead and the old man they'd killed, even pulling a few fish from the lake, and there was a scary moment when three of them found the causeway and started to walkout... but the path turned and they didn't, and two of them nearly drowned before the others pulled them out. The tall bald man yelled at them, his words echoing across the water in some tongue that even Jojen did not know, and a little while later they gathered up their shields and spears and marched off north by east, the same way Jon had gone. Bran wanted to leave too, to look for Summer, but the Reeds said no. \"We will stay another night,\" said Jojen, \"put some leagues between us and the wildlings. You don't want to meet them again, do you?\" Late that afternoon Summer returned from wherever he'd been hiding, dragging his back leg. He ate parts of the bodies in the inn, driving off the crows, then swam out to the island. Meera had drawn the broken arrow from his leg and rubbed the wound with the juice of some plants she found growing around the base of the tower. The direwolf was still limping, but a little less each day, it seemed to Bran. The gods had heard."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Maybe we should try another castle,\" Meera said to her brother."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Maybe we could get through the gate somewhere else. I could go scout if you wanted, I'd make better time by myself.\"\n\nBran shook his head. \"If you go east there's Deep Lake, then Queensgate. West is Icemark. But they'll be the same, only smaller. All the gates are sealed except the ones at Castle Black, Eastwatch, and the Shadow Tower.\"\n\nHodor said, \"Hodor,\" to that, and the Reeds exchanged a look. \"At least I should climb to the top of the Wall,\" Meera decided. \"Maybe I'll see something up there.\"\n\n\"What could you hope to see?\" Jojen asked.\n\n\"Something,\" said Meera, and for once she was adamant.\n\nIt should be me. Bran raised his head to lookup at the Wall, and imagined himself climbing inch by inch, squirming his fingers into cracks in the ice and kicking footholds with his toes. That made him smile in spite of everything, the dreams and the wildlings and Jon and everything. He had climbed the walls of Winterfell when he was little, and all the towers too, but none of them had been so high, and they were only stone. The Wall could look like stone, all grey and pitted, but then the clouds would break and the sun would hit it differently, and all at once it would transform, and stand there white and blue and glittering. It was the end of the world, Old Nan always said. On the other side were monsters and giants and ghouls, but they could not pass so long as the Wall stood strong. I want to stand on top with Meera, Bran thought. I want to stand on top and see.\n\nBut he was a broken boy with useless legs, so all he could do was watch from below as Meera went up in his stead."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She wasn't really climbing, the way he used to climb. She was only walking up some steps that the Night's Watch had hewn hundreds and thousands of years ago. He remembered Maester Luwin saying the Nightfort was the only castle where the steps had been cut from the ice of the Wall itself. Or maybe it had been Uncle Benjen. The newer castles had wooden steps, or stone ones, or long ramps of earth and gravel. Ice is too treacherous. It was his uncle who'd told him that. He said that the outer surface of the Wall wept icy tears sometimes, though the core inside stayed frozen hard as rock. The steps must have melted and refrozen a thousand times since the last black brothers left the castle, and every time they did they shrunk a little and got smoother and rounder and more treacherous.\n\nAnd smaller. It's almost like the Wall was swallowing them back into itself. Meera Reed was very surefooted, but even so she was going slowly, moving from nub to nub. In two places where the steps were hardly thereat all she got down on all fours. It will be worse when she comes down, Bran thought, watching. Even so, he wished it was him up there. When she reached the top, crawling up the icy knobs that were all that remained of the highest steps, Meera vanished from his sight.\n\n\"When will she comedown?\" Bran asked Jojen.\n\n\"When she is ready. She will want to have a good look... at the Wall and what's beyond. We should do the same down here.\"\n\n\"Hodor?\" said Hodor, doubtfully.\n\n\"We might find something,\" Jojen insisted.\n\nOr something might find us. Bran couldn't say it, though; he did not want Jojen to think he was craven."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So they went exploring, Jojen Reed leading, Bran in his basket on Hodor's back, Summer padding by their side. Once the direwolf bolted through a dark door and returned a moment later with a grey rat between his teeth. The Rat Cook, Bran thought, but it was the wrong color, and only as big as a cat. The Rat Cook was white, and almost as huge as a sow...\n\nThere were a lot of dark doors in the Nightfort, and a lot of rats. Bran could hear them scurrying through the vaults and cellars, and the maze of pitch-black tunnels that connected them. Jojen wanted to go poking around down there, but Hodor said'Hodor\" to that, and Bran said'No.\" There were worse things than rats down in the dark beneath the Nightfort.\n\n\"This seems an old place,\" Jojen said as they walked down a gallery where the sunlight fell in dusty shafts through empty windows.\n\n\"Twice as old as Castle Black,\" Bran said, remembering. \"It was the first castle on the Wall, and the largest.\" But it had also been the first abandoned, all the way back in the time of the Old King. Even then it had been three-quarters empty and too costly to maintain. Good Queen Alysanne had suggested that the Watch replace it with a smaller, newer castle at a spot only seven miles east, where the Wall curved along the shore of a beautiful green lake. Deep Lake had been paid for by the queen's jewels and built by the men the Old King had sent north, and the black brothers had abandoned the Nightfort to the rats.\n\nThat was two centuries past, though. Now Deep Lake stood as empty as the castle it had replaced, and the Nightfort...\n\n\"There are ghosts here,\" Bran said. Hodor had heard all the stories before, but Jojen might not have. \"Old ghosts, from before the Old King, even before Aegon the Dragon, seventy-nine deserters who went south to be outlaws. One was Lord Ryswell's youngest son, so when they reached the barrowlands they sought shelter at his castle, but Lord Ryswell took them captive and returned them to the Nightfort. The Lord Commander had holes hewn in the top of the Wall and he put the deserters in them and sealed them up alive in the ice. They have spears and horns and they all face north. The seventy-nine sentinels, they're called. They left their posts in life, so in death their watch goes on forever. Years later, when Lord Ryswell was old and dying, he had himself carried to the Nightfort so he could take the black and stand beside his son. He'd sent him back to the Wall for honor's sake, but he loved him still, so he came to share his watch.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 58"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So they went exploring, Jojen Reed leading, Bran in his basket on Hodor's back, Summer padding by their side. Once the direwolf bolted through a dark door and returned a moment later with a grey rat between his teeth. The Rat Cook, Bran thought, but it was the wrong color, and only as big as a cat. The Rat Cook was white, and almost as huge as a sow...\n\nThere were a lot of dark doors in the Nightfort, and a lot of rats. Bran could hear them scurrying through the vaults and cellars, and the maze of pitch-black tunnels that connected them. Jojen wanted to go poking around down there, but Hodor said'Hodor\" to that, and Bran said'No.\" There were worse things than rats down in the dark beneath the Nightfort.\n\n\"This seems an old place,\" Jojen said as they walked down a gallery where the sunlight fell in dusty shafts through empty windows.\n\n\"Twice as old as Castle Black,\" Bran said, remembering. \"It was the first castle on the Wall, and the largest.\" But it had also been the first abandoned, all the way back in the time of the Old King. Even then it had been three-quarters empty and too costly to maintain. Good Queen Alysanne had suggested that the Watch replace it with a smaller, newer castle at a spot only seven miles east, where the Wall curved along the shore of a beautiful green lake. Deep Lake had been paid for by the queen's jewels and built by the men the Old King had sent north, and the black brothers had abandoned the Nightfort to the rats.\n\nThat was two centuries past, though. Now Deep Lake stood as empty as the castle it had replaced, and the Nightfort...\n\n\"There are ghosts here,\" Bran said. Hodor had heard all the stories before, but Jojen might not have. \"Old ghosts, from before the Old King, even before Aegon the Dragon, seventy-nine deserters who went south to be outlaws. One was Lord Ryswell's youngest son, so when they reached the barrowlands they sought shelter at his castle, but Lord Ryswell took them captive and returned them to the Nightfort. The Lord Commander had holes hewn in the top of the Wall and he put the deserters in them and sealed them up alive in the ice. They have spears and horns and they all face north. The seventy-nine sentinels, they're called. They left their posts in life, so in death their watch goes on forever. Years later, when Lord Ryswell was old and dying, he had himself carried to the Nightfort so he could take the black and stand beside his son. He'd sent him back to the Wall for honor's sake, but he loved him still, so he came to share his watch.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They spent half the day poking through the castle. Some of the towers had fallen down and others looked unsafe, but they climbed the bell tower (the bells were gone) and the rookery (the birds were gone). Beneath the brewhouse they found a vault of huge oaken casks that boomed hollowly when Hodor knocked on them. They found a library (the shelves and bins had collapsed, the books were gone, and rats were everywhere). They found a dank and dim-lit dungeon with cells enough to hold five hundred captives, but when Bran grabbed hold of one of the rusted bars it broke off in his hand. Only one crumbling wall remained of the great hall, the bathhouse seemed to be sinking into the ground, and a huge thornbush had conquered the practice yard outside the armory where black brothers had once labored with spear and shield and sword. The armory and the forge still stood, however, though cobwebs, rats, and dust had taken the places of blades, bellows, and anvil. Sometimes Summer would hear sounds that Bran seemed deaf to, or bare his teeth at nothing, the fur on the back of his neck bristling... but the Rat Cook never put in an appearance, nor the seventy-nine sentinels, nor Mad Axe. Bran was much relieved. Maybe it is only a ruined empty castle.\n\nBy the time Meera returned, the sun was only a sword's breath above the western hills. \"What did you see?\" her brother Jojen asked her.\n\n\"I saw the haunted forest,\" she said in a wistful tone. \"Hills rising wild as far as the eye can see, covered with trees that no axe has ever touched. I saw the sunlight glinting off a lake, and clouds sweeping in from the west. I saw patches of old snow, and icicles long as pikes. I even saw an eagle circling. I think he saw me too. I waved at him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did you see away down?\" asked Jojen.\n\nShe shook her head. \"No. It's a sheer drop, and the ice is so smooth... I might be able to make the descent if I had a good rope and an axe to chop out handholds, but...\"\n\n\"... but not us,\" Jojen finished.\n\n\"No,\" his sister agreed. \"Are you sure this is the place you saw in your dream? Maybe we have the wrong castle.\"\n\n\"No. This is the castle. There is agate here.\"\n\nYes, thought Bran, but it's blocked by stone and ice.\n\nAs the sun began to set the shadows of the towers lengthened and the wind blew harder, sending gusts of dry dead leaves rattling through the yards. The gathering gloom put Bran in mind of another of Old Nan's stories, the tale of Night's King. He had been the thirteenth man to lead the Night's Watch, she said; a warrior who knew no fear. \"And that was the fault in him,\" she would add, \"for all men must know fear.\" A woman was his downfall; a woman glimpsed from atop the Wall, with skin as white as the moon and eyes like blue stars. Fearing nothing, he chased her and caught her and loved her, though her skin was cold as ice, and when he gave his seed to her he gave his soul as well.\n\nHe brought her back to the Nightfort and proclaimed her a queen and himself her king, and with strange sorceries he bound his Sworn Brothers to his will. For thirteen years they had ruled, Night's King and his corpse queen, till finally the Stark of Winterfell and Joramun of the wildlings had joined to free the Watch from bondage. After his fall, when it was found he had been sacrificing to the Others, all records of Night's King had been destroyed, his very name forbidden."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Some say he was a Bolton,\" Old Nan would always end. \"Some say a Magnar out of Skagos, some say Umber, Flint, or Norrey. Some would have you think he was a Woodfoot, from them who ruled Bear Island before the ironmen came. He never was. He was a Stark, the brother of the man who brought him down.\" She always pinched Bran on the nose then, he would never forget it. \"He was a Stark of Winterfell, and who can say? Mayhaps his name was Brandon. Mayhaps he slept in this very bed in this very room.\"\n\nNo, Bran thought, but he walked in this castle, where we'll sleep tonight. He did not like that notion very much at all. Night's King was only a man by light of day, Old Nan would always say, but the night was his to rule. And it's getting dark.\n\nThe Reeds decided that they would sleep in the kitchens, a stone octagon with a broken dome. It looked to offer better shelter than most of the other buildings, even though a crooked weirwood had burst up through the slate floor beside the huge central well, stretching slantwise toward the hole in the roof, its bone-white branches reaching for the sun. It was a queer kind of tree, skinnier than any other weirwood that Bran had ever seen and faceless as well, but it made him feel as if the old gods were with him here, at least.\n\nThat was the only thing he liked about the kitchens, though. The roof was mostly there, so they'd be dry if it rained again, but he didn't think they would ever get warm here. You could feel the cold seeping up through the slate floor. Bran did not like the shadows either, or the huge brick ovens that surrounded them like open mouths, or the rusted meat hooks, or the scars and stains he saw in the butcher's block along one wall. That was where the Rat Cook chopped the prince to pieces, he knew, and he baked the pie in one of these ovens."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The well was the thing he liked the least, though. It was a good twelve feet across, all stone, with steps built into its side, circling down and down into darkness. The walls were damp and covered with niter, but none of them could seethe water at the bottom, not even Meera with her sharp hunter's eyes. \"Maybe it doesn't have a bottom,\" Bran said uncertainly.\n\nHodor peered over the knee-high lip of the well and said, \"HODOR!\" The word echoed down the well, \"Hodorhodorhodorhodor,\" fainter and fainter, \"hodorhodorhodorhodor,\" until it was less than a whisper. Hodor looked startled. Then he laughed, and bent to scoop a broken piece of slate off the floor.\n\n\"Hodor, don't!\" said Bran, but too late. Hodor tossed the slate over the edge. \"You shouldn't have done that. You don't know what's down there. You might have hurt something, or... or woken something up.\"\n\nHodor looked at him innocently. \"Hodor?\"\n\nFar, far, far below, they heard the sound as the stone found water. It wasn't a splash, not truly. It was more a gulp, as if whatever was below had opened a quivering gelid mouth to swallow Hodor's stone. Faint echoes traveled up the well, and fora moment Bran thought he heard something moving, thrashing about in the water. \"Maybe we shouldn't stay here,\" he said uneasily.\n\n\"By the well?\" asked Meera. \"Orin the Nightfort?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Bran.\n\nShe laughed, and sent Hodor out to gather wood. Summer went too. It was almost dark by then, and the direwolf wanted to hunt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Hodor returned alone with both arms full of deadwood and broken branches."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jojen Reed took his flint and knife and set about lighting afire while Meera boned the fish she'd caught at the last stream they'd crossed. Bran wondered how many years had passed since there had last been a supper cooked in the kitchens of the Nightfort. He wondered who had cooked it too, though maybe it was better not to know.\n\nWhen the flames were blazing nicely Meera put the fish on. At least it's not a meat pie. The Rat Cook had cooked the son of the Andal king in a big pie with onions, carrots, mushrooms, lots of pepper and salt, a rasher of bacon, and a dark red Dornish wine. Then he served him to his father, who praised the taste and had a second slice. Afterward the gods transformed the cook into a monstrous white rat who could only eat his own young. He had roamed the Nightfort ever since, devouring his children, but still his hunger was not sated. \"It was not for murder that the gods cursed him,\" Old Nan said, \"nor for serving the Andal king his son in a pie. A man has aright to vengeance. But he slew a guest beneath his roof, and that the gods cannot forgive.\"\n\n\"We should sleep,\" Jojen said solemnly, after they were full. The fire was burning low. He stirred it with a stick. \"Perhaps I'll have another green dream to show us the way.\"\n\nHodor was already curled up and snoring lightly. From time to time he thrashed beneath his cloak, and whimpered something that might have been'Hodor.\" Bran wriggled closer to the fire. The warmth felt good, and the soft crackling of flames soothed him, but sleep would not come. Outside the wind was sending armies of dead leaves marching across the courtyards to scratch faintly at the doors and windows. The sounds made him think of Old Nan's stories. He could almost hear the ghostly sentinels calling to each other atop the Wall and winding their ghostly warhorns. Pale moonlight slanted down through the hole in the dome, painting the branches of the weirwood as they strained up toward the roof. It looked as if the tree was trying to catch the moon and drag it down into the well. Old gods, Bran prayed, if you hear me, don't send a dream tonight. Or if you do, make it a good dream. The gods made no answer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bran made himself close his eyes. Maybe he even slept some, or maybe he was just drowsing, floating the way you do when you are half awake and half asleep, trying not to think about Mad Axe or the Rat Cook or the thing that came in the night.\n\nThen he heard the noise.\n\nHis eyes opened. What was that? He held his breath. Did I dream it? Was I having a stupid nightmare? He didn't want to wake Meera and Jojen fora bad dream, but... there... a soft scuffling sound, far off... Leaves, it's leaves rattling off the walls outside and rustling together... or the wind, it could be the wind... The sound wasn't coming from outside, though. Bran felt the hairs on his arm start to rise. The sound's inside, it's inhere with us, and it's getting louder. He pushed himself up onto an elbow, listening. There was wind, and blowing leaves as well, but this was something else. Footsteps. Someone was coming this way. Something was coming this way.\n\nIt wasn't the sentinels, he knew. The sentinels never left the Wall. But there might be other ghosts in the Nightfort, ones even more terrible. He remembered what Old Nan had said of Mad Axe, how he took his boots off and prowled the castle halls barefoot in the dark, with never a sound to tell you where he was except for the drops of blood that fell from his axe and his elbows and the end of his wet red beard. Or maybe it wasn't Mad Axe at all, maybe it was the thing that came in the night. The \"prentice boys all saw it, Old Nan said, but afterward when they told their Lord Commander every description had been different. And three died within the year, and the fourth went mad, and a hundred years later when the thing had come again, the'prentice boys were seen shambling along behind it, all in chains."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "That was only a story, though."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was just scaring himself. There was nothing that comes in the night, Maester Luwin had said so. If there had ever been such a thing, it was gone from the world now, like giants and dragons. It's nothing, Bran thought.\n\nBut the sounds were louder now.\n\nIt's coming from the well, he realized. That made him even more afraid. Something was coming up from under the ground, coming up out of the dark. Hodor woke it up. He woke it up with that stupid piece of slate, and now it's coming. It was hard to hear over Hodor's snores and the thumping of his own heart. Was that the sound blood made dripping from an axe? Or was it the faint, far-off rattling of ghostly chains? Bran listened harder. Footsteps. It was definitely footsteps, each one a little louder than the one before. He couldn't tell how many, though. The well made the sounds echo. He didn't hear any dripping, or chains either, but there was something else... a high thin whimpering sound, like someone in pain, and heavy muffled breathing. But the footsteps were loudest. The footsteps were coming closer.\n\nBran was too frightened to shout. The fire had burned down to a few faint embers and his friends were all asleep. He almost slipped his skin and reached out for his wolf, but Summer might be miles away. He couldn't leave his friends helpless in the dark to face whatever was coming up out of the well. I told them not to come here, he thought miserably. I told them there were ghosts. I told them that we should go to Castle Black.\n\nThe footfalls sounded heavy to Bran, slow, ponderous, scraping against the stone. It must be huge. Mad Axe had been a big man in Old Nan's story, and the thing that came in the night had been monstrous. Back in Winterfell, Sansa had told him that the demons of the dark couldn't touch him if he hid beneath his blanket. He almost did that now, before he remembered that he was a prince, and almost a man grown."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bran wriggled across the floor, dragging his dead legs behind him until he could reach out and touch Meera on the foot. She woke at once. He had never known anyone to wake as quick as Meera Reed, or to be so alert so fast. Bran pressed a finger to his mouth so she'd know not to speak. She heard the sound at once, he could see that on her face; the echoing footfalls, the faint whimpering, the heavy breathing.\n\nMeera rose to her feet without a word and reclaimed her weapons. With her three-pronged frog spear in her right hand and the folds of her net dangling from her left, she slipped barefoot toward the well. Jojen dozed on, oblivious, while Hodor muttered and thrashed in restless sleep. She kept to the shadows as she moved, stepped around the shaft of moonlight as quiet as a cat. Bran was watching her all the while, and even he could barely seethe faint sheen of her spear. I can't let her fight the thing alone, he thought. Summer was faraway, but...\n\n... he slipped his skin, and reached for Hodor.\n\nIt was not like sliding into Summer. That was so easy now that Bran hardly thought about it. This was harder, like trying to pull a left boot on your right foot. It fit all wrong, and the boot was scared too, the boot didn't know what was happening, the boot was pushing the foot away. He tasted vomit in the back of Hodor's throat, and that was almost enough to make him flee. Instead he squirmed and shoved, sat up, gathered his legs under him-his huge strong legs-and rose. I'm standing. He took a step. I'm walking. It was such a strange feeling that he almost fell. He could see himself on the cold stone floor, a little broken thing, but he wasn't broken now. He grabbed Hodor's longsword. The breathing was as loud as a blacksmith's bellows."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "From the well came a wail, a piercing creech that went through him like a knife. A huge black shape heaved itself up into the darkness and lurched toward the moonlight, and the fear rose up in Bran so thick that before he could even think of drawing Hodor's sword the way he'd meant to, he found himself back on the floor again with Hodor roaring'Hodor hodor HODOR,\" the way he had in the lake tower whenever the lightning flashed. But the thing that came in the night was screaming too, and thrashing wildly in the folds of Meera's net. Bran saw her spear dart out of the darkness to snap at it, and the thing staggered and fell, struggling with the net. The wailing was still coming from the well, even louder now. On the floor the black thing flopped and fought, screeching, \"No, no, don't, please, DON'T...\"\n\nMeera stood over him, the moonlight shining silver off the prongs of her frog spear. \"Who are you?\" she demanded.\n\n\"I'm SAM,\" the black thing sobbed. \"Sam, Sam, I'm Sam, let me out, you stabbed me...\" He rolled through the puddle of moonlight, flailing and flopping in the tangles of Meera's net. Hodor was still shouting, \"Hodor hodor hodor.\"\n\nIt was Jojen who fed the sticks to the fire and blew on them until the flames leapt up crackling. Then there was light, and Bran saw the pale thin-faced girl by the lip of the well, all bundled up in furs and skins beneath an enormous black cloak, trying to shush the screaming baby in her arms. The thing on the floor was pushing an arm through the net to reach his knife, but the loops wouldn't let him. He wasn't any monster beast, or even Mad Axe drenched in gore; only a big fat man dressed up in black wool, black fur, black leather, and blackmail. \"He's a black brother,\" said Bran. \"Meera, he's from the Night's Watch.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hodor?\" Hodor squatted down on his haunches to peer at the man in the net. \"Hodor,\" he said again, hooting.\n\n\"The Night's Watch, yes.\" The fat man was still breathing like a bellows. \"I'm a brother of the Watch.\" He had one cord under his chins, forcing his head up, and others digging deep into his cheeks. \"I'm a crow, please. Let me out of this.\"\n\nBran was suddenly uncertain. \"Are you the three-eyed crow?\" He can't be the three-eyed crow.\n\n\"I don't think so.\" The fat man rolled his eyes, but there were only two of them. \"I'm only Sam. Samwell Tarly. Let me out, it's hurting me.\" He began to struggle again.\n\nMeera made a disgusted sound. \"Stop flopping around. If you tear my net I'll throw you back down the well. Just lie still and I'll untangle you.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" Jojen asked the girl with the baby.\n\n\"Gilly,\" she said. \"For the gillyflower. He's Sam. We never meant to scare you.\" She rocked her baby and murmured at it, and finally it stopped crying.\n\nMeera was untangling the fat brother. Jojen went to the well and peered down. \"Where did you come from?\"\n\n\"From Craster's,\" the girl said. \"Are you the one?\"\n\nJojen turned to look at her. \"The one?\"\n\n\"He said that Sam wasn't the one,\" she explained. \"There was someone else, he said. The one he was sent to find.\"\n\n\"Who said?\" Bran demanded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Coldhands,\" Gilly answered softly.\n\nMeera peeled back one end of her net, and the fat man managed to sit up. He was shaking, Bran saw, and still struggling to catch his breath. \"He said there would be people,\" he huffed. \"People in the castle. I didn't know you'd be right at the top of the steps, though. I didn't know you'd throw a net on me or stab me in the stomach.\" He touched his belly with a black-gloved hand. \"Am I bleeding? I can't see.\"\n\n\"It was just a poke to get you off your feet,\" said Meera. \"Here, let me have a look.\" She went to one knee, and felt around his navel. \"You're wearing mail. I never got near your skin.\"\n\n\"Well, it hurt all the same,\" Sam complained.\n\n\"Are you really a brother of the Night's Watch?\" Bran asked.\n\nThe fat man's chins jiggled when he nodded. His skin looked pale and saggy. \"Only a steward. I took care of Lord Mormont's ravens.\" Fora moment he looked like he was going to cry. \"I lost them at the Fist, though. It was my fault. I got us lost too. I couldn't even find the Wall. It's a hundred leagues long and seven hundred feet high and I couldn't find it!\"\n\n\"Well, you've found it now,\" said Meera. \"Lift your rump off the ground, I want my net back.\"\n\n\"How did you get through the Wall?\" Jojen demanded as Sam struggled to his feet. \"Does the well lead to an underground river, is that where you came from? You're not even wet...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's agate,\" said fat Sam. \"A hidden gate, as old as the Wall itself. The Black Gate, he called it.\"\n\nThe Reeds exchanged a look. \"We'll find this gate at the bottom of the well?\" asked Jojen.\n\nSam shook his head. \"You won't. I have to take you.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Meera demanded. \"If there's agate...\"\n\n\"You won't find it. If you did it wouldn't open. Not for you. It's the Black Gate.\" Sam plucked at the faded black wool of his sleeve. \"Only a man of the Night's Watch can open it, he said. A Sworn Brother who has said his words.\"\n\n\"He said.\" Jojen frowned. \"This... Coldhands?\"\n\n\"That wasn't his true name,\" said Gilly, rocking. \"We only called him that, Sam and me. His hands were cold as ice, but he saved us from the dead men, him and his ravens, and he brought us hereon his elk.\"\n\n\"His elk?\" said Bran, wonderstruck.\n\n\"His elk?\" said Meera, startled.\n\n\"His ravens?\" said Jojen.\n\n\"Hodor?\" said Hodor.\n\n\"Was he green?\" Bran wanted to know. \"Did he have antlers?\"\n\nThe fat man was confused. \"The elk?\"\n\n\"Coldhands,\" said Bran impatiently. \"The green men ride on elks, Old Nan used to say. Sometimes they have antlers too.\"\n\n\"He wasn't a green man. He wore blacks, like a brother of the Watch, but he was pale as a wight, with hands so cold that at first I was afraid. The wights have blue eyes, though, and they don't have tongues, or they've forgotten how to use them.\" The fat man turned to Jojen. \"He'll be waiting. We should go. Do you have anything warmer to wear? The Black Gate is cold, and the other side of the Wallis even colder. You-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why didn't he come with you?\" Meera gestured toward Gilly and her babe. \"They came with you, why not him? Why didn't you bring him through this Black Gate too?\"\n\n\"He... he can't.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"The Wall. The Wallis more than justice and stone, he said. There are spells woven into it... old ones, and strong. He cannot pass beyond the Wall.\"\n\nIt grew very quiet in the castle kitchen then. Bran could hear the soft crackle of the flames, the wind stirring the leaves in the night, the creak of the skinny weirwood reaching for the moon. Beyond the gates the monsters live, and the giants and the ghouls, he remembered Old Nan saying, but they cannot pass so long as the Wall stands strong. So go to sleep, my little Brandon, my baby boy. You needn't fear. There are no monsters here.\n\n\"I am not the one you were told to bring,\" Jojen Reed told fat Sam in his stained and baggy blacks. \"He is.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Sam looked down at him uncertainly. It might have been just then that he realized Bran was crippled. \"I don't... I'm not strong enough to carry you, I...\"\n\n\"Hodor can carry me.\" Bran pointed at his basket. \"I ride in that, upon his back.\"\n\nSam was staring at him. \"You're Jon Snow's brother. The one who fell...\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jojen. \"That boy is dead.\"\n\n\"Don't tell,\" Bran warned. \"Please.\"\n\nSam looked confused fora moment, but finally he said, \"I... I can keep a secret. Gilly too.\" When he looked at her, the girl nodded. \"Jon... Jon was my brother too. He was the best friend I ever had, but he went off with Qhorin Halfhand to scout the Frostfangs and never came back. We were waiting for him on the Fist when... when...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Jon's here,\" Bran said. \"Summer saw him. He was with some wildlings, but they killed a man and Jon took his horse and escaped. I bet he went to Castle Black.\"\n\nSam turned big eyes on Meera. \"You're certain it was Jon? You saw him?\"\n\n\"I'm Meera,\" Meera said with a smile. \"Summer is...\"\n\nA shadow detached itself from the broken dome above and leapt down through the moonlight. Even with his injured leg, the wolf landed as light and quiet as a snowfall. The girl Gilly made a frightened sound and clutched her babe so hard against her that it began to cry again.\n\n\"He won't hurt you,\" Bran said. \"That's Summer.\"\n\n\"Jon said you all had wolves.\" Sam pulled off a glove. \"I know Ghost.\" He held out a shaky hand, the fingers white and soft and fat as little sausages. Summer padded closer, sniffed them, and gave the hand a lick.\n\nThat was when Bran made up his mind. \"We'll go with you.\"\n\n\"All of you?\" Sam seemed surprised by that.\n\nMeera ruffled Bran's hair. \"He's our prince.\"\n\nSummer circled the well, sniffing. He paused by the top step and looked back at Bran. He wants to go.\n\n\"Will Gilly be safe if I leave her here till I comeback?\" Sam asked them.\n\n\"She should be,\" said Meera. \"She's welcome to our fire.\"\n\nJojen said, \"The castle is empty.\"\n\nGilly looked around. \"Craster used to tell us tales of castles, but I never knew they'd be so big.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It's only the kitchens."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bran wondered what she'd think when she saw Winterfell, if she ever did.\n\nIt took them a few minutes to gather their things and hoist Bran into his wicker seat on Hodor's back. By the time they were ready to go, Gilly sat nursing her babe by the fire. \"You'll comeback for me,\" she said to Sam.\n\n\"As soon as I can,\" he promised, \"then we'll go somewhere warm.\" When he heard that, part of Bran wondered what he was doing. Will I ever go someplace warm again?\n\n\"I'll go first, I know the way.\" Sam hesitated at the top. \"There's just so many steps,\" he sighed, before he started down. Jojen followed, then Summer, then Hodor with Bran riding on his back. Meera took the rear, with her spear and net in hand.\n\nIt was along way down. The top of the well was bathed in moonlight, but it grew smaller and dimmer every time they went around. Their footsteps echoed off the damp stones, and the water sounds grew louder. \"Should we have brought torches?\" Jojen asked.\n\n\"Your eyes will adjust,\" said Sam. \"Keep one hand on the wall and you won't fall.\"\n\nThe well grew darker and colder with every turn. When Bran finally lifted his head around to look backup the shaft, the top of the well was no bigger than a half-moon. \"Hodor,\" Hodor whispered, \"Hodorhodorhodorhodorhodorhodor,\" the well whispered back. The water sounds were close, but when Bran peered down he saw only blackness.\n\nA turn or two later Sam stopped suddenly. He was a quarter of the way around the well from Bran and Hodor and six feet farther down, yet Bran could barely see him. He could seethe door, though. The Black Gate, Sam had called it, but it wasn't black at all."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was white weirwood, and there was a face on it.\n\nAglow came from the wood, like milk and moonlight, so faint it scarcely seemed to touch anything beyond the door itself, not even Sam standing right before it. The face was old and pale, wrinkled and shrunken. It looks dead. Its mouth was closed, and its eyes; its cheeks were sunken, its brow withered, its chin sagging. If a man could live fora thousand years and never die but just grow older, his face might come to look like that.\n\nThe door opened its eyes.\n\nThey were white too, and blind. \"Who are you?\" the door asked, and the well whispered, \"Who-who-who-who-who-who-who.\"\n\n\"I am the sword in the darkness,\" Samwell Tarly said. \"I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers. I am the shield that guards the realms of men.\"\n\n\"Then pass,\" the door said. Its lips opened, wide and wider and wider still, until nothing at all remained but a great gaping mouth in a ring of wrinkles. Sam stepped aside and waved Jojen through ahead of him. Summer followed, sniffing as he went, and then it was Bran's turn. Hodor ducked, but not low enough. The door's upper lip brushed softly against the top of Bran's head, and a drop of water fell on him and ran slowly down his nose. It was strangely warm, and salty as a tear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "DAENERYS\n\nMeereen was as large as Astapor and Yunkai combined. Like her sister cities she was built of brick, but where Astapor had been red and Yunkai yellow, Meereen was made with bricks of many colors. Her walls were higher than Yunkai's and in better repair, studded with bastions and anchored by great defensive towers at every angle. Behind them, huge against the sky, could be seen the top of the Great Pyramid, a monstrous thing eight hundred feet tall with a towering bronze harpy at its top.\n\n\"The harpy is a craven thing,\" Daario Naharis said when he saw it. \"She has a woman's heart and a chicken's legs. Small wonder her sons hide behind their walls.\"\n\nBut the hero did not hide. He rode out the city gates, armored in scales of copper and jet and mounted upon a white charger whose striped pink-and-white barding matched the silk cloak flowing from the hero's shoulders. The lance he bore was fourteen feet long, swirled in pink and white, and his hair was shaped and teased and lacquered into two great curling ram's horns. Back and forth he rode beneath the walls of multicolored bricks, challenging the besiegers to send a champion forth to meet him in single combat.\n\nHer bloodriders were in such a fever to go meet him that they almost came to blows. \"Blood of my blood,\" Dany told them, \"your place is hereby me. This man is a buzzing fly, no more. Ignore him, he will soon begone.\" Aggo, Jhogo, and Rakharo were brave warriors, but they were young, and too valuable to risk. They kept her khalasar together, and were her best scouts too."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That was wisely done,\" Ser Jorah said as they watched from the front of her pavilion. \"Let the fool ride back and forth and shout until his horse goes lame. He does us no harm.\"\n\n\"He does,\" Arstan Whitebeard insisted. \"Wars are not won with swords and spears alone, ser. Two hosts of equal strength may come together, but one will break and run whilst the other stands. This hero builds courage in the hearts of his own men and plants the seeds of doubt in ours.\"\n\nSer Jorah snorted. \"And if our champion were to lose, what sort of seed would that plant?\"\n\n\"A man who fears battle wins no victories, ser.\"\n\n\"We're not speaking of battle. Meereen's gates will not open if that fool falls. Why risk a life for naught?\"\n\n\"For honor, I would say.\"\n\n\"I have heard enough.\" Dany did not need their squabbling on top of all the other troubles that plagued her. Meereen posed dangers far more serious than one pink-and-white hero shouting insults, and she could not let herself be distracted. Her host numbered more than eighty thousand after Yunkai, but fewer than a quarter of them were soldiers. The rest... well, Ser Jorah called them mouths with feet, and soon they would be starving.\n\nThe Great Masters of Meereen had withdrawn before Dany's advance, harvesting all they could and burning what they could not harvest. Scorched fields and poisoned wells had greeted her at every hand. Worst of all, they had nailed a slave child upon every milepost along the coast road from Yunkai, nailed them up still living with their entrails hanging out and one arm always outstretched to point the way to Meereen. Leading her van, Daario had given orders for the children to betaken down before Dany had to see them, but she had countermanded him as soon as she was told. \"I will see them,\" she said. \"I will see everyone, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "By the time they came to Meereen sitting on the salt coast beside her river, the count stood atone hundred and sixty-three."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I will have this city, Dany pledged to herself once more.\n\nThe pink-and-white hero taunted the besiegers for an hour, mocking their manhood, mothers, wives, and gods. Meereen's defenders cheered him on from the city walls. \"His name is Oznak zo Pahl,\" Brown Ben Plumm told her when he arrived for the war council. He was the new commander of the Second Sons, chosen by a vote of his fellow sellswords. \"I was bodyguard to his uncle once, before I joined the Second Sons. The Great Masters, what a ripe lot o\" maggots. The women weren't so bad, though it was worth your life to look at the wrong one the wrong way. I knew a man, Scarb, this Oznak cut his liver out. Claimed to be defending a lady's honor, he did, said Scarb had raped her with his eyes. How do you rape a wench with eyes, I ask you? But his uncle is the richest man in Meereen and his father commands the city guard, so I had to run like a rat before he killed me too.\"\n\nThey watched Oznak zo Pahl dismount his white charger, undo his robes, pullout his manhood, and direct a stream of urine in the general direction of the olive grove where Dany's gold pavilion stood among the burnt trees. He was still pissing when Daario Naharis rode up, arakh in hand. \"Shall I cut that off for you and stuff it down his mouth, Your Grace?\" His tooth shone gold amidst the blue of his forked beard.\n\n\"It's his city I want, not his meager manhood.\" She was growing angry, however. If I ignore this any longer, my own people will think me weak. Yet who could she send? She needed Daario as much as she did her bloodriders. Without the flamboyant Tyroshi, she had no hold on the Stormcrows, many of whom had been followers of Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor the Bald."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "High on the walls of Meereen, the jeers had grown louder, and now hundreds of the defenders were taking their lead from the hero and pissing down through the ramparts to show their contempt for the besiegers. They are pissing on slaves, to show how little they fear us, she thought. They would never dare such a thing if it were a Dothraki khalasar outside their gates.\n\n\"This challenge must be met,\" Arstan said again.\n\n\"It will be.\" Dany said, as the hero tucked his penis away again. \"Tell Strong Belwas I have need of him.\"\n\nThey found the huge brown eunuch sitting in the shade of her pavilion, eating a sausage. He finished it in three bites, wiped his greasy hands clean on his trousers, and sent Arstan Whitebeard to fetch him his steel. The aged squire honed Belwas's arakh every evening and rubbed it down with bright red oil.\n\nWhen Whitebeard brought the sword, Strong Belwas squinted down the edge, grunted, slid the blade back into its leather sheath, and tied the swordbelt about his vast waist. Arstan had brought his shield as well: around steel disk no larger than a pie plate, which the eunuch grasped with his offhand rather than strapping to his forearm in the manner of Westeros. \"Find liver and onions, Whitebeard,\" Belwas said. \"Not for now, for after. Killing makes Strong Belwas hungry.\" He did not wait fora reply, but lumbered from the olive grove toward Oznak zo Pahl.\n\n\"Why that one, Khaleesi?\" Rakharo demanded of her. \"He is fat and stupid.\"\n\n\"Strong Belwas was a slave herein the fighting pits. If this highborn Oznak should fall to such the Great Masters will be shamed, while if he wins... well, it is a poor victory for one so noble, one that Meereen can take no pride in.\" And unlike Ser Jorah, Daario, Brown Ben, and her three bloodriders, the eunuch did not lead troops, plan battles, or give her counsel. He does nothing but eat and boast and bellow at Arstan. Belwas was the man she could most easily spare. And it was time she learned what sort of protector Magister Illyrio had sent her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A thrum of excitement went through the siege lines when Belwas was seen plodding toward the city, and from the walls and towers of Meereen came shouts and jeers. Oznak zo Pahl mounted up again, and waited, his striped lance held upright. The charger tossed his head impatiently and pawed the sandy earth. As massive as he was, the eunuch looked small beside the hero on his horse.\n\n\"A chivalrous man would dismount,\" said Arstan.\n\nOznak zo Pahl lowered his lance and charged.\n\nBelwas stopped with legs spread wide. In one hand was his small round shield, in the other the curved arakh that Arstan tended with such care. His great brown stomach and sagging chest were bare above the yellow silk sash knotted about his waist, and he wore no armor but his studded leather vest, so absurdly small that it did not even cover his nipples. \"We should have given him chainmail,\" Dany said, suddenly anxious.\n\n\"Mail would only slow him,\" said Ser Jorah. \"They wear no armor in the fighting pits. It's blood the crowds come to see.\"\n\nDust flew from the hooves of the white charger. Oznak thundered toward Strong Belwas, his striped cloak streaming from his shoulders. The whole city of Meereen seemed to be screaming him on. The besiegers'cheers seemed few and thin by comparison; her Unsullied stood in silent ranks, watching with stone faces. Belwas might have been made of stone as well. He stood in the horse's path, his vest stretched tight across his broad back. Oznak's lance was leveled at the center of his chest. Its bright steel point winked in the sunlight. He's going to be impaled, she thought... as the eunuch spun sideways. And quick as the blink of an eye the horseman was beyond him, wheeling, raising the lance. Belwas made no move to strike at him. The Meereenese on the walls screamed even louder. \"What is he doing?\" Dany demanded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Giving the mob a show,\" Ser Jorah said.\n\nOznak brought the horse around Belwas in a wide circle, then dug in with his spurs and charged again. Again Belwas waited, then spun and knocked the point of the lance aside. She could hear the eunuch's booming laughter echoing across the plain as the hero went past him. \"The lance is too long,\" Ser Jorah said. \"All Belwas needs do is avoid the point. Instead of trying to spit him so prettily, the fool should ride right over him.\"\n\nOznak zo Pahl charged a third time, and now Dany could see plainly that he was riding past Belwas, the way a Westerosi knight might ride at an opponent in atilt, rather than at him, like a Dothraki riding down a foe. The flat level ground allowed the charger to getup a good speed, but it also made it easy for the eunuch to dodge the cumbersome fourteen-foot lance.\n\nMeereen's pink-and-white hero tried to anticipate this time, and swung his lance sideways at the last second to catch Strong Belwas when he dodged. But the eunuch had anticipated too, and this time he dropped down instead of spinning sideways. The lance passed harmlessly over his head. And suddenly Belwas was rolling, and bringing the razor-sharp arakh around in a silver arc. They heard the charger scream as the blade bit into his legs, and then the horse was falling, the hero tumbling from the saddle.\n\nA sudden silence swept along the brick parapets of Meereen. Now it was Dany's people who were screaming and cheering.\n\nOznak leapt clear of his horse and managed to draw his sword before Strong Belwas was on him. Steel sang against steel, too fast and furious for Dany to follow the blows. It could not have been a dozen heartbeats before Belwas's chest was awash in blood from a slice below his breasts, and Oznak zo Pahl had an arakh planted right between his ram's horns. The eunuch wrenched the blade loose and parted the hero's head from his body with three savage blows to the neck. He held it up high for the Meereenese to see, then flung it toward the city gates and let it bounce and roll across the sand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So much for the hero of Meereen,\" said Daario, laughing.\n\n\"A victory without meaning,\" Ser Jorah cautioned. \"We will not win Meereen by killing its defenders one at a time.\"\n\n\"No,\" Dany agreed, \"but I'm pleased we killed this one.\"\n\nThe defenders on the walls began firing their crossbows at Belwas, but the bolts fell short or skittered harmlessly along the ground. The eunuch turned his back on the steel-tipped rain, lowered his trousers, squatted, and shat in the direction of the city. He wiped himself with Oznak's striped cloak, and paused long enough to loot the hero's corpse and put the dying horse out of his agony before trudging back to the olive grove.\n\nThe besiegers gave him a raucous welcome as soon as he reached the camp. Her Dothraki hooted and screamed, and the Unsullied sent up a great clangor by banging their spears against their shields. \"Well done,\" Ser Jorah told him, and Brown Ben tossed the eunuch a ripe plum and said, \"A sweet fruit fora sweet fight.\" Even her Dothraki handmaids had words of praise. \"We would braid your hair and hang a bell in it, Strong Belwas,\" said Jhiqui, \"but you have no hair to braid.\"\n\n\"Strong Belwas needs no tinkly bells.\" The eunuch ate Brown Ben's plum in four big bites and tossed aside the stone. \"Strong Belwas needs liver and onions.\"\n\n\"You shall have it,\" said Dany. \"Strong Belwas is hurt.\" His stomach was red with the blood sheeting down from the meaty gash beneath his breasts."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is nothing. I let each man cut me once, before I kill him.\" He slapped his bloody belly. \"Count the cuts and you will know how many Strong Belwas has slain.\"\n\nBut Dany had lost Khal Drogo to a similar wound, and she was not willing to let it go untreated. She sent Missandei to find a certain Yunkish freedman renowned for his skill in the healing arts. Belwas howled and complained, but Dany scolded him and called him a big bald baby until he let the healer stanch the wound with vinegar, sew it shut, and bind his chest with strips of linen soaked in fire wine. Only then did she lead her captains and commanders inside her pavilion for their council.\n\n\"I must have this city,\" she told them, sitting crosslegged on a pile of cushions, her dragons all about her. Irri and Jhiqui poured wine. \"Her granaries are full to bursting. There are figs and dates and olives growing on the terraces of her pyramids, and casks of salt fish and smoked meat buried in her cellars.\"\n\n\"And fat chests of gold, silver, and gemstones as well,\" Daario reminded them. \"Let us not forget the gemstones.\"\n\n\"I've had a look at the landward walls, and I see no point of weakness,\" said Ser Jorah Mormont. \"Given time, we might be able to mine beneath a tower and make a breach, but what do we eat while we're digging? Our stores are all but exhausted.\"\n\n\"No weakness in the landward walls?\" said Dany. Meereen stood on a jut of sand and stone where the slow brown Skahazadhan flowed into Slaver's Bay. The city's north wall ran along the riverbank, its west along the bay shore. \"Does that mean we might attack from the river or the sea?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"With three ships? We'll want to have Captain Groleo take a good look at the wall along the river, but unless it's crumbling that's just a wetter way to die.\"\n\n\"What if we were to build siege towers? My brother Viserys told tales of such, I know they can be made.\"\n\n\"From wood, Your Grace,\" Ser Jorah said. \"The slavers have burnt every tree within twenty leagues of here. Without wood, we have no trebuchets to smash the walls, no ladders to go over them, no siege towers, no turtles, and no rams. We can storm the gates with axes, to be sure, but...\"\n\n\"Did you see them bronze heads above the gates?\" asked Brown Ben Plumm. \"Rows of harpy heads with open mouths? The Meereenese can squirt boiling oil out them mouths, and cook your axemen where they stand.\"\n\nDaario Naharis gave Grey Worm a smile. \"Perhaps the Unsullied should wield the axes. Boiling oil feels like no more than a warm bath to you, I have heard.\"\n\n\"This is false.\" Grey Worm did not return the smile. \"These ones do not feel burns as men do, yet such oil blinds and kills. The Unsullied do not fear to die, though. Give these ones rams, and we will batter down these gates or die in the attempt.\"\n\n\"You would die,\" said Brown Ben. At Yunkai, when he took command of the Second Sons, he claimed to be the veteran of a hundred battles. \"Though I will not say I fought bravely in all of them. There are old sellswords and bold sellswords, but no old bold sellswords.\" She saw that it was true."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany sighed. \"I will not throwaway Unsullied lives, Grey Worm. Perhaps we can starve the city out.\"\n\nSer Jorah looked unhappy. \"We'll starve long before they do, Your Grace. There's no food here, nor fodder for our mules and horses. I do not like this river water either. Meereen shits into the Skahazadhan but draws its drinking water from deep wells. Already we've had reports of sickness in the camps, fever and brownleg and three cases of the bloody flux. There will be more if we remain. The slaves are weak from the march.\"\n\n\"Freedmen,\" Dany corrected. \"They are slaves no longer.\"\n\n\"Slave or free, they are hungry and they'll soon be sick. The city is better provisioned than we are, and can be resupplied by water. Your three ships are not enough to deny them access to both the river and the sea.\"\n\n\"Then what do you advise, Ser Jorah?\"\n\n\"You will not like it.\"\n\n\"I would hear it all the same.\"\n\n\"As you wish. I say, let this city be. You cannot free every slave in the world, Khaleesi. Your war is in Westeros.\"\n\n\"I have not forgotten Westeros.\" Dany dreamt of it some nights, this fabled land that she had never seen. \"If I let Meereen's old brick walls defeat me so easily, though, how will I ever take the great stone castles of Westeros?\"\n\n\"As Aegon did,\" Ser Jorah said, \"with fire. By the time we reach the Seven Kingdoms, your dragons will be grown. And we will have siege towers and trebuchets as well, all the things we lack here... but the way across the Lands of the Long Summer is long and grueling, and there are dangers we cannot know. You stopped at Astapor to buy an army, not to start a war. Save your spears and swords for the Seven Kingdoms, my queen. Leave Meereen to the Meereenese and march west for Pentos.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Defeated?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "said Dany, bristling.\n\n\"When cowards hide behind great walls, it is they who are defeated, Khaleesi,\" Ko Jhogo said.\n\nHer other bloodriders concurred. \"Blood of my blood,\" said Rakharo, \"when cowards hide and burn the food and fodder, great khals must seek for braver foes. This is known.\"\n\n\"It is known,\" Jhiqui agreed, as she poured.\n\n\"Not tome.\" Dany set great store by Ser Jorah's counsel, but to leave Meereen untouched was more than she could stomach. She could not forget the children on their posts, the birds tearing at their entrails, their skinny arms pointing up the coast road. \"Ser Jorah, you say we have no food left. If I march west, how can I feed my freedmen?\"\n\n\"You can't. I am sorry, Khaleesi. They must feed themselves or starve. Many and more will die along the march, yes. That will be hard, but there is noway to save them. We need to put this scorched earth well behind us.\"\n\nDany had left a trail of corpses behind her when she crossed the red waste. It was a sight she never meant to see again. \"No,\" she said. \"I will not march my people off to die.\" My children. \"There must be someway into this city.\"\n\n\"I know away.\" Brown Ben Plumm stroked his speckled grey-and-white beard. \"Sewers.\"\n\n\"Sewers? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Great brick sewers empty into the Skahazadhan, carrying the city's wastes. They might be away in, fora few. That was how I escaped Meereen, after Scarb lost his head.\" Brown Ben made a face. \"The smell has never left me. I dream of it some nights.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ser Jorah looked dubious."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Easier to go out than in, it would seem tome. These sewers empty into the river, you say? That would mean the mouths are right below the walls.\"\n\n\"And closed with iron grates,\" Brown Ben admitted, \"though some have rusted through, else I would have drowned in shit. Once inside, it is along foul climb in pitch-dark through amaze of brick where a man could lose himself forever. The filth is never lower than waist high, and can rise over your head from the stains I saw on the walls. There's things down there too. Biggest rats you ever saw, and worse things. Nasty.\"\n\nDaario Naharis laughed. \"As nasty as you, when you came crawling out? If any man were fool enough to try this, every slaver in Meereen would smell them the moment they emerged.\"\n\nBrown Ben shrugged. \"Her Grace asked if there was away in, so I told her... but Ben Plumm isn't going down in them sewers again, not for all the gold in the Seven Kingdoms. If there's others want to try it, though, they're welcome.\"\n\nAggo, Jhogo, and Grey Worm all tried to speak at once, but Dany raised her hand for silence. \"These sewers do not sound promising.\" Grey Worm would lead his Unsullied down the sewers if she commanded it, she knew; her bloodriders would do no less. But none of them was suited to the task. The Dothraki were horsemen, and the strength of the Unsullied was their discipline on the battlefield. Can I send men to die in the dark on such a slender hope? \"I must think on this some more. Return to your duties.\"\n\nHer captains bowed and left her with her handmaids and her dragons. But as Brown Ben was leaving, Viserion spread his pale white wings and flapped lazily at his head. One of the wings buffeted the sellsword in his face. The white dragon landed awkwardly with one foot on the man's head and one on his shoulder, shrieked, and flew off again. \"He likes you, Ben,\" said Dany."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And well he might.\" Brown Ben laughed. \"I have me a drop of the dragon blood myself, you know.\"\n\n\"You?\" Dany was startled. Plumm was a creature of the free companies, an amiable mongrel. He had abroad brown face with a broken nose and ahead of nappy grey hair, and his Dothraki mother had bequeathed him large, dark, almond-shaped eyes. He claimed to be part Braavosi, part Summer Islander, part Ibbenese, part Qohorik, part Dothraki, part Dornish, and part Westerosi, but this was the first she had heard of Targaryen blood. She gave him a searching look and said, \"How could that be?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Brown Ben, \"there was some old Plumm in the Sunset Kingdoms who wed a dragon princess. My grandmama told me the tale. He lived in King Aegon's day.\"\n\n\"Which King Aegon?\" Dany asked. \"Five Aegons have ruled in Westeros.\" Her brother's son would have been the sixth, but the Usurper's men had dashed his head against a wall.\n\n\"Five, were there? Well, that's a confusion. I could not give you a number, my queen. This old Plumm was a lord, though, must have been a famous fellow in his day, the talk of all the land. The thing was, begging your royal pardon, he had himself a cock six foot long.\"\n\nThe three bells in Dany's braid tinkled when she laughed. \"You mean inches, I think.\"\n\n\"Feet,\" Brown Ben said firmly. \"If it was inches, who'd want to talk about it, now? Your Grace.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany giggled like a little girl. \"Did your grandmother claim she'd actually seen this prodigy?\"\n\n\"That the old crone never did. She was half-Ibbenese and half-Qohorik, never been to Westeros, my grandfather must have told her. Some Dothraki killed him before I was born.\"\n\n\"And where did your grandfather's knowledge come from?\"\n\n\"One of them tales told at the teat, I'd guess.\" Brown Ben shrugged. \"That's all I know about Aegon the Unnumbered or old Lord Plumm's mighty manhood, I fear. I best see to my Sons.\"\n\n\"Go do that,\" Dany told him.\n\nWhen Brown Ben left, she lay back on her cushions. \"If you were grown,\" she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, \"I'd fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag.\" But it would be years before her dragons were large enough to ride. And when they are, who shall ride them? The dragon has three heads, but I have only one. She thought of Daario. If ever there was a man who could rape a woman with his eyes...\n\nTo be sure, she was just as guilty. Dany found herself stealing looks at the Tyroshi when her captains came to council, and sometimes at night she remembered the way his gold tooth glittered when he smiled. That, and his eyes. His bright blue eyes. On the road from Yunkai, Daario had brought her a flower or a sprig of some plant every evening when he made his report... to help her learn the land, he said. Waspwillow, dusky roses, wild mint, lady's lace, daggerleaf, broom, prickly ben, harpy's gold... He tried to spare me the sight of the dead children too. He should not have done that, but he meant it kindly. And Daario Naharis made her laugh, which Ser Jorah never did."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany tried to imagine what it would be like if she allowed Daario to kiss her, the way Jorah had kissed heron the ship. The thought was exciting and disturbing, both at once. It is too great a risk. The Tyroshi sellsword was not a good man, no one needed to tell her that. Under the smiles and the jests he was dangerous, even cruel. Sallor and Prendahl had woken one morning as his partners; that very night he'd given her their heads. Khal Drogo could be cruel as well, and there was never a man more dangerous. She had come to love him all the same. Could I love Daario? What would it mean, if I took him into my bed? Would that make him one of the heads of the dragon? Ser Jorah would be angry, she knew, but he was the one who'd said she had to take two husbands. Perhaps I should marry them both and be done with it.\n\nBut these were foolish thoughts. She had a city to take, and dreaming of kisses and some sellsword's bright blue eyes would not help her breach the walls of Meereen. I am the blood of the dragon, Dany reminded herself. Her thoughts were spinning in circles, like a rat chasing its tail. Suddenly she could not stand the close confines of the pavilion another moment. I want to feel the wind on my face, and smell the sea. \"Missandei,\" she called, \"have my silver saddled. Your own mount as well.\"\n\nThe little scribe bowed. \"As Your Grace commands. Shall I summon your bloodriders to guard you?\"\n\n\"We'll take Arstan. I do not mean to leave the camps.\" She had no enemies among her children. And the old squire would not talk too much as Belwas would, or look at her like Daario."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The grove of burnt olive trees in which she'd raised her pavilion stood beside the sea, between the Dothraki camp and that of the Unsullied. When the horses had been saddled, Dany and her companions set out along the shoreline, away from the city. Even so, she could feel Meereen at her back, mocking her. When she looked over one shoulder, there it stood, the afternoon sun blazing off the bronze harpy atop the Great Pyramid. Inside Meereen the slavers would soon be reclining in their fringed tokars to feast on lamb and olives, unborn puppies, honeyed dormice and other such delicacies, whilst outside her children went hungry. A sudden wild anger filled her. I will bring you down, she swore.\n\nAs they rode past the stakes and pits that surrounded the eunuch encampment, Dany could hear Grey Worm and his sergeants running one company through a series of drills with shield, shortsword, and heavy spear. Another company was bathing in the sea, clad only in white linen breechclouts. The eunuchs were very clean, she had noticed. Some of her sellswords smelled as if they had not washed or changed their clothes since her father lost the Iron Throne, but the Unsullied bathed each evening, even if they'd marched all day. When no water was available they cleansed themselves with sand, the Dothraki way.\n\nThe eunuchs knelt as she passed, raising clenched fists to their breasts. Dany returned the salute. The tide was coming in, and the surf foamed about the feet of her silver. She could see her ships standing out to sea. Balerion floated nearest; the great cog once known as Saduleon, her sails furled. Further out were the galleys Meraxes and Vhagar, formerly Joso's Prank and Summer Sun. They were Magister Illyrio's ships, in truth, not hers at all, and yet she had given them new names with hardly a thought. Dragon names, and more; in old Valyria before the Doom, Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar had been gods."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "South of the ordered realm of stakes, pits, drills, and bathing eunuchs lay the encampments of her freedmen, afar noisier and more chaotic place."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dany had armed the former slaves as best she could with weapons from Astapor and Yunkai, and Ser Jorah had organized the fighting men into four strong companies, yet she saw no one drilling here. They passed a driftwood fire where a hundred people had gathered to roast the carcass of a horse. She could smell the meat and hear the fat sizzling as the spit boys turned, but the sight only made her frown.\n\nChildren ran behind their horses, skipping and laughing. Instead of salutes, voices called to heron every side in a babble of tongues. Some of the freedmen greeted her as'Mother,\" while others begged for boons or favors. Some prayed for strange gods to bless her, and some asked her to bless them instead. She smiled at them, turning right and left, touching their hands when they raised them, letting those who knelt reach up to touch her stirrup or her leg. Many of the freedmen believed there was good fortune in her touch. If it helps give them courage, let them touch me, she thought. There are hard trials yet ahead...\n\nDany had stopped to speak to a pregnant woman who wanted the Mother of Dragons to name her baby when someone reached up and grabbed her left wrist. Turning, she glimpsed a tall ragged man with a shaved head and a sunburnt face. \"Not so hard,\" she started to say, but before she could finish he'd yanked her bodily from the saddle. The ground came up and knocked the breath from her, as her silver whinnied and backed away. Stunned, Dany rolled to her side and pushed herself onto one elbow...\n\n... and then she saw the sword.\n\n\"There's the treacherous sow,\" he said. \"I knew you'd come to get your feet kissed one day.\" His head was bald as a melon, his nose red and peeling, but she knew that voice and those pale green eyes. \"I'm going to start by cutting off your teats.\" Dany was dimly aware of Missandei shouting for help. A freedman edged forward, but only a step. One quick slash, and he was on his knees, blood running down his face. Mero wiped his sword on his breeches. \"Who's next?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I am.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arstan Whitebeard leapt from his horse and stood over her, the salt wind riffling through his snowy hair, both hands on his tall hardwood staff.\n\n\"Grandfather,\" Mero said, \"runoff before I break your stick in two and bugger you with-\"\n\nThe old man feinted with one end of the staff, pulled it back, and whipped the other end about faster than Dany would have believed. The Titan's Bastard staggered back into the surf, spitting blood and broken teeth from the ruin of his mouth. Whitebeard put Dany behind him. Mero slashed at his face. The old man jerked back, cat-quick. The staff thumped Mero's ribs, sending him reeling. Arstan splashed sideways, parried a looping cut, danced away from a second, checked a third mid-swing. The moves were so fast she could hardly follow. Missandei was pulling Dany to her feet when she heard a crack. She thought Arstan's staff had snapped until she saw the jagged bone jutting from Mero's calf. Ashe fell, the Titan's Bastard twisted and lunged, sending his point straight at the old man's chest. Whitebeard swept the blade aside almost contemptuously and smashed the other end of his staff against the big man's temple. Mero went sprawling, blood bubbling from his mouth as the waves washed over him. A moment later the freedmen washed over him too, knives and stones and angry fists rising and falling in a frenzy.\n\nDany turned away, sickened. She was more frightened now than when it had been happening. He would have killed me.\n\n\"Your Grace.\" Arstan knelt. \"I am an old man, and shamed. He should never have gotten close enough to seize you. I was lax. I did not know him without his beard and hair.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 59"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I am.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arstan Whitebeard leapt from his horse and stood over her, the salt wind riffling through his snowy hair, both hands on his tall hardwood staff.\n\n\"Grandfather,\" Mero said, \"runoff before I break your stick in two and bugger you with-\"\n\nThe old man feinted with one end of the staff, pulled it back, and whipped the other end about faster than Dany would have believed. The Titan's Bastard staggered back into the surf, spitting blood and broken teeth from the ruin of his mouth. Whitebeard put Dany behind him. Mero slashed at his face. The old man jerked back, cat-quick. The staff thumped Mero's ribs, sending him reeling. Arstan splashed sideways, parried a looping cut, danced away from a second, checked a third mid-swing. The moves were so fast she could hardly follow. Missandei was pulling Dany to her feet when she heard a crack. She thought Arstan's staff had snapped until she saw the jagged bone jutting from Mero's calf. Ashe fell, the Titan's Bastard twisted and lunged, sending his point straight at the old man's chest. Whitebeard swept the blade aside almost contemptuously and smashed the other end of his staff against the big man's temple. Mero went sprawling, blood bubbling from his mouth as the waves washed over him. A moment later the freedmen washed over him too, knives and stones and angry fists rising and falling in a frenzy.\n\nDany turned away, sickened. She was more frightened now than when it had been happening. He would have killed me.\n\n\"Your Grace.\" Arstan knelt. \"I am an old man, and shamed. He should never have gotten close enough to seize you. I was lax. I did not know him without his beard and hair.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No more than I did.\" Dany took a deep breath to stop her shaking. Enemies everywhere. \"Take me back to my tent. Please.\"\n\nBy the time Mormont arrived, she was huddled in her lion pelt, drinking a cup of spice wine. \"I had a look at the river wall,\" Ser Jorah started. \"It's a few feet higher than the others, and just as strong. And the Meereenese have a dozen fire hulks tied up beneath the ramparts-\"\n\nShe cut him off. \"You might have warned me that the Titan's Bastard had escaped.\"\n\nHe frowned. \"I saw no need to frighten you, Your Grace. I have offered a reward for his head-\"\n\n\"Pay it to Whitebeard. Mero has been with us all the way from Yunkai. He shaved his beard off and lost himself amongst the freedmen, waiting fora chance for vengeance. Arstan killed him.\"\n\nSer Jorah gave the old man along look. \"A squire with a stick slew Mero of Braavos, is that the way of it?\"\n\n\"A stick,\" Dany confirmed, \"but no longer a squire. Ser Jorah, it's my wish that Arstan be knighted.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nThe loud refusal was surprise enough. Stranger still, it came from both men at once.\n\nSer Jorah drew his sword. \"The Titan's Bastard was a nasty piece of work. And good at killing. Who are you, old man?\"\n\n\"A better knight than you, ser,\" Arstan said coldly.\n\nKnight? Dany was confused. \"You said you were a squire.\"\n\n\"I was, Your Grace.\" He dropped to one knee. \"I squired for Lord Swann in my youth, and at Magister Illyrio's behest I have served Strong Belwas as well. But during the years between, I was a knight in Westeros. I have told you no lies, my queen. Yet there are truths I have withheld, and for that and all my other sins I can only beg your forgiveness.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What truths have you withheld?\" Dany did not like this. \"You will tell me. Now.\"\n\nHe bowed his head. \"At Qarth, when you asked my name, I said I was called Arstan. That much was true. Many men had called me by that name while Belwas and I were making our way east to find you. But it is not my true name.\"\n\nShe was more confused than angry. He has played me false, just as Jorah warned me, yet he saved my life just now.\n\nSer Jorah flushed red. \"Mero shaved his beard, but you grew one, didn't you? No wonder you looked so bloody familiar...\"\n\n\"You know him?\" Dany asked the exile knight, lost.\n\n\"I saw him perhaps a dozen times... from afar most often, standing with his brothers or riding in some tourney. But every man in the Seven Kingdoms knew Barristan the Bold.\" He laid the point of his sword against the old man's neck. \"Khaleesi, before you kneels Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who betrayed your House to serve the Usurper Robert Baratheon.\"\n\nThe old knight did not so much as blink. \"The crow calls the raven black, and you speak of betrayal.\"\n\n\"Why are you here?\" Dany demanded of him. \"If Robert sent you to kill me, why did you save my life?\" He served the Usurper. He betrayed Rhaegar's memory, and abandoned Viserys to live and die in exile. Yet if he wanted me dead, he need only have stood aside...\"I want the whole truth now, on your honor as a knight. Are you the Usurper's man, or mine?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yours, if you will have me.\" Ser Barristan had tears in his eyes. \"I took Robert's pardon, aye. I served him in Kingsguard and council. Served with the Kingslayer and others near as bad, who soiled the white cloak I wore. Nothing will excuse that. I might be serving in King's Landing still if the vile boy upon the Iron Throne had not cast me aside, it shames me to admit. But when he took the cloak that the White Bull had draped about my shoulders, and sent men to kill me that selfsame day, it was as though he'd ripped a caul off my eyes. That was when I knew I must find my true king, and die in his service-\"\n\n\"I can grant that wish,\" Ser Jorah said darkly.\n\n\"Quiet,\" said Dany. \"I'll hear him out.\"\n\n\"It maybe that I must die a traitor's death,\" Ser Barristan said. \"If so, I should not die alone. Before I took Robert's pardon I fought against him on the Trident. You were on the other side of that battle, Mormont, were you not?\" He did not wait for an answer. \"Your Grace, I am sorry I misled you. It was the only way to keep the Lannisters from learning that I had joined you. You are watched, as your brother was. Lord Varys reported every move Viserys made, for years. Whilst I sat on the small council, I heard a hundred such reports. And since the day you wed Khal Drogo, there has been an informer by your side selling your secrets, trading whispers to the Spider for gold and promises.\"\n\nHe cannot mean...\"You are mistaken.\" Dany looked at Jorah Mormont. \"Tell him he's mistaken. There's no informer. Ser Jorah, tell him. We crossed the Dothraki sea together, and the red waste...\" Her heart fluttered like a bird in a trap. \"Tell him, Jorah. Tell him how he got it wrong.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The Others take you, Selmy.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Jorah flung his longsword to the carpet. \"Khaleesi, it was only at the start, before I came to know you... before I came to love...\"\n\n\"Do not say that word!\" She backed away from him. \"How could you? What did the Usurper promise you? Gold, was it gold?\" The Undying had said she would be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love. \"Tell me what you were promised?\"\n\n\"Varys said... I might go home.\" He bowed his head.\n\nI was going to take you home! Her dragons sensed her fury. Viserion roared, and smoke rose grey from his snout. Drogon beat the air with black wings, and Rhaegal twisted his head back and belched flame. I should say the word and burn the two of them. Was there no one she could trust, no one to keep her safe? \"Are all the knights of Westeros so false as you two? Get out, before my dragons roast you both. What does roast liar smell like? As foul as Brown Ben's sewers? Go!\"\n\nSer Barristan rose stiff and slow. For the first time, he looked his age. \"Where shall we go, Your Grace?\"\n\n\"To hell, to serve King Robert.\" Dany felt hot tears on her cheeks. Drogon screamed, lashing his tailback and forth. \"The Others can have you both.\" Go, go away forever, both of you, the next time I see your faces I'll have your traitors\" heads off. She could not say the words, though. They betrayed me. But they saved me. But they lied. \"You go...\" My bear, my fierce strong bear, what will I do without him? And the old man, my brother's friend. \"You go... go...\" Where?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And then she knew."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "TYRION\n\nTyrion dressed himself in darkness, listening to his wife's soft breathing from the bed they shared. She dreams, he thought, when Sansa murmured something softly-a name, perhaps, though it was too faint to say-and turned onto her side. As man and wife they shared a marriage bed, but that was all. Even her tears she hoards to herself.\n\nHe had expected anguish and anger when he told her of her brother's death, but Sansa's face had remained so still that fora moment he feared she had not understood. It was only later, with a heavy oaken door between them, that he heard her sobbing. Tyrion had considered going to her then, to offer what comfort he could. No, he had to remind himself, she will not look for solace from a Lannister. The most he could do was to shield her from the uglier details of the Red Wedding as they came down from the Twins. Sansa did not need to hear how her brother's body had been hacked and mutilated, he decided; nor how her mother's corpse had been dumped naked into the Green Fork in a savage mockery of House Tully's funeral customs. The last thing the girl needed was more fodder for her nightmares.\n\nIt was not enough, though. He had wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and sworn to protect her, but that was as cruel a jape as the crown the Freys had placed atop the head of Robb Stark's direwolf after they'd sewn it onto his headless corpse. Sansa knew that as well. The way she looked at him, her stiffness when she climbed into their bed... when he was with her, never for an instant could he forget who he was, or what he was. No more than she did. She still went nightly to the godswood to pray, and Tyrion wondered if she were praying for his death. She had lost her home, her place in the world, and everyone she had ever loved or trusted. Winter is coming, warned the Stark words, and truly it had come for them with a vengeance. But it is high summer for House Lannister. So why am I so bloody cold?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He pulled on his boots, fastened his cloak with a lion's head brooch, and slipped out into the torchlit hall. There was this much to be said for his marriage; it had allowed him to escape Maegor's Holdfast. Now that he had a wife and household, his lord father had agreed that more suitable accommodations were required, and Lord Gyles had found himself abruptly dispossessed of his spacious apartments atop the Kitchen Keep. And splendid apartments they were too, with a large bedchamber and adequate solar, a bath and dressing room for his wife, and small adjoining chambers for Pod and Sansa's maids. Even Bronn's cell by the stair had a window of sorts. Well, more an arrow slit, but it lets in light. The castle's main kitchen was just across the courtyard, true, but Tyrion found those sounds and smells infinitely preferable to sharing Maegor's with his sister. The less he had to see of Cersei the happier he was like to be.\n\nTyrion could hear Brella's snoring as he passed her cell. Shae complained of that, but it seemed a small enough price to pay. Varys had suggested the woman to him; informer days, she had run Lord Renly's household in the city, which had given her a deal of practice at being blind, deaf, and mute.\n\nLighting a taper, he made his way back to the servants' steps and descended. The floors below his own were still, and he heard no footsteps but his own. Down he went, to the ground floor and beyond, to emerge in a gloomy cellar with a vaulted stone ceiling. Much of the castle was connected underground, and the Kitchen Keep was no exception. Tyrion waddled along along dark passageway until he found the door he wanted, and pushed through."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Within, the dragon skulls were waiting, and so was Shae."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I thought m'lord had forgotten me.\" Her dress was draped over a black tooth near as tall as she was, and she stood within the dragon's jaws, nude. Balerion, he thought. Or was it Vhagar? One dragon skull looked much like another.\n\nJust the sight of her made him hard. \"Come out of there.\"\n\n\"I won't.\" She smiled her wickedest smile. \"M'lord will pluck me from the dragon's jaws, I know.\" But when he waddled closer she leaned forward and blew out the taper.\n\n\"Shae...\" He reached, but she spun and slipped free.\n\n\"You have to catch me.\" Her voice came from his left. \"M'lord must have played monsters and maidens when he was little.\"\n\n\"Are you calling me a monster?\"\n\n\"No more than I'm a maiden.\" She was behind him, her steps soft against the floor. \"You need to catch me all the same.\"\n\nHe did, finally, but only because she let herself be caught. By the time she slipped into his arms, he was flushed and out of breath from stumbling into dragon skulls. All that was forgotten in an instant when he felt her small breasts pressed against his face in the dark, her stiff little nipples brushing lightly over his lips and the scar where his nose had been. Tyrion pulled her down onto the floor. \"My giant,\" she breathed as he entered her. \"My giant's come to save me.\"\n\nAfter, as they lay entwined amongst the dragon skulls, he rested his head against her, inhaling the smooth clean smell of her hair. \"We should go back,\" he said reluctantly. \"It must be near dawn. Sansa will be waking.\"\n\n\"You should give her dreamwine,\" Shae said, \"like Lady Tanda does with Lollys. A cup before she goes to sleep, and we could fuck in bed beside her without her waking.\" She giggled. \"Maybe we should, some night. Would m'lord like that?\" Her hand found his shoulder, and began to knead the muscles there. \"Your neck is hard as stone. What troubles you?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion could not see his fingers in front of his face, but he ticked his woes off on them all the same. \"My wife. My sister. My nephew. My father. The Tyrells.\" He had to move to his other hand. \"Varys. Pycelle. Littlefinger. The Red Viper of Dorne.\" He had come to his last finger. \"The face that stares back out of the water when I wash.\"\n\nShae kissed his maimed scarred nose. \"A brave face. A kind and good face. I wish I could see it now.\"\n\nAll the sweet innocence of the world was in her voice. Innocence? Fool, she's a whore, all she knows of men is the bit between their legs. Fool, fool. \"Better you than me.\" Tyrion sat. \"We have along day before us, both of us. You shouldn't have blown out that taper. How are we to find our clothing?\"\n\nShe laughed. \"Maybe we'll have to go naked.\"\n\nAnd if we're seen, my lord father will hang you. Hiring Shae as one of Sansa's maids had given him an excuse to be seen talking with her, but Tyrion did not delude himself that they were safe. Varys had warned him. \"I gave Shae a false history, but it was meant for Lollys and Lady Tanda. Your sister is of a more suspicious mind. If she should ask me what I know...\"\n\n\"You will tell her some clever lie.\"\n\n\"No. I will tell her that the girl is a common camp follower that you acquired before the battle on the Green Fork and brought to King's Landing against your lord father's express command. I will not lie to the queen.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You have lied to her before. Shall I tell her that?\"\n\nThe eunuch sighed. \"That cuts more deeply than a knife, my lord. I have served you loyally, but I must also serve your sister when I can. How long do you think she would let me live if I were of no further use to her whatsoever? I have no fierce sellsword to protect me, no valiant brother to avenge me, only some little birds who whisper in my ear. With those whisperings I must buy my life anew each day.\"\n\n\"Pardon me if I do not weep for you.\"\n\n\"I shall, but you must pardon me if I do not weep for Shae. I confess, I do not understand what there is in her to make a clever manlike you act such a fool.\"\n\n\"You might, if you were not a eunuch.\"\n\n\"Is that the way of it? A man may have wits, or a bit of meat between his legs, but not both?\" Varys tittered. \"Perhaps I should be grateful I was cut, then.\"\n\nThe Spider was right. Tyrion groped through the dragon-haunted darkness for his smallclothes, feeling wretched. The risk he was taking left him tight as a drumhead, and there was guilt as well. The Others can take my guilt, he thought as he slipped his tunic over his head. Why should I be guilty? My wife wants no part of me, and most especially not the part that seems to want her. Perhaps he ought to tell her about Shae. It was not as though he was the first man ever to keep a concubine. Sansa's own oh-so-honorable father had given her a bastard brother. For all he knew, his wife might be thrilled to learn that he was fucking Shae, so long as it spared her his unwelcome touch."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No, I dare not. Vows or no, his wife could not be trusted. She might be maiden between the legs, but she was hardly innocent of betrayal; she had once spilled her own father's plans to Cersei. And girls her age were not known for keeping secrets.\n\nThe only safe course was to rid himself of Shae. I might send her to Chataya, Tyrion reflected, reluctantly. In Chataya's brothel, Shae would have all the silks and gems she could wish for, and the gentlest highborn patrons. It would be a better life by far than the one she had been living when he'd found her.\n\nOr, if she was tired of earning her bread on her back, he might arrange a marriage for her. Bronn, perhaps? The sellsword had never balked at eating off his master's plate, and he was a knight now, a better match than she could elsewise hope for. Or Ser Tallad? Tyrion had noticed that one gazing wistfully at Shae more than once. Why not? He's tall, strong, not hard to look upon, every inch the gifted young knight. Of course, Tallad knew Shae only as a pretty young lady's maid in service at the castle. If hewed her and then learned she was a whore...\n\n\"M'lord, where are you? Did the dragons eat you up?\"\n\n\"No. Here.\" He groped at a dragon skull. \"I have found a shoe, but I believe it's yours.\"\n\n\"M'lord sounds very solemn. Have I displeased you?\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, too curtly. \"You always please me.\" And therein is our danger. He might dream of sending her away at times like this, but that never lasted long. Tyrion saw her dimly through the gloom, pulling a woolen sock up a slender leg. I can see. A vague light was leaking through the row of long narrow windows set high in the cellar wall. The skulls of the Targaryen dragons were emerging from the darkness around them, black amidst grey. \"Day comes too soon.\" Anew day. Anew year. Anew century. I survived the Green Fork and the Blackwater, I can bloody well survive King Joffrey's wedding."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Shae snatched her dress down off the dragon's tooth and slipped it over her head."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll go up first. Brella will want help with the bathwater.\" She bent over to give him one last kiss, upon the brow. \"My giant of Lannister. I love you so.\"\n\nAnd I love you as well, sweetling. A whore she might well be, but she deserved better than what he had to give her. I will wed her to Ser Tallad. He seems a decent man. And tall..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SANSA\n\nThat was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so...\n\nShe threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.\n\nHer lord husband was not beside her, but she was used to that. Tyrion was a bad sleeper and often rose before the dawn. Usually she found him in the solar, hunched beside a candle, lost in some old scroll or leatherbound book. Sometimes the smell of the morning bread from the ovens took him to the kitchens, and sometimes he would climb up to the roof garden or wander all alone down Traitor's Walk.\n\nShe threw back the shutters and shivered as gooseprickles rose along her arms. There were clouds massing in the eastern sky, pierced by shafts of sunlight. They look like two huge castles afloat in the morning sky. Sansa could see their walls of tumbled stone, their mighty keeps and barbicans. Wispy banners swirled from atop their towers and reached for the fast-fading stars. The sun was coming up behind them, and she watched them go from black to grey to a thousand shades of rose and gold and crimson. Soon the wind mushed them together, and there was only one castle where there had been two.\n\nShe heard the door open as her maids brought the hot water for her bath. They were both new to her service; Tyrion said the women who'd tended to her previously had all been Cersei's spies, just as Sansa had always suspected. \"Come see,\" she told them. \"There's a castle in the sky.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They came to have a look. \"It's made of gold.\" Shae had short dark hair and bold eyes. She did all that was asked of her, but sometimes she gave Sansa the most insolent looks. \"A castle all of gold, there's a sight I'd like to see.\"\n\n\"A castle, is it?\" Brella had to squint. \"That tower's tumbling over, looks like. It's all ruins, that is.\"\n\nSansa did not want to hear about falling towers and ruined castles. She closed the shutters and said, \"We are expected at the queen's breakfast. Is my lord husband in the solar?\"\n\n\"No, m'lady,\" said Brella. \"I have not seen him.\"\n\n\"Might be he went to see his father,\" Shae declared. \"Might be the King's Hand had need of his counsel.\"\n\nBrella gave a sniff. \"Lady Sansa, you'll be wanting to get into the tub before the water gets too cool.\"\n\nSansa let Shae pull her shift up over her head and climbed into the big wooden tub. She was tempted to ask fora cup of wine, to calm her nerves. The wedding was to beat midday in the Great Sept of Baelor across the city. And come evenfall the feast would beheld in the throne room; a thousand guests and seventy-seven courses, with singers and jugglers and mummers. But first came breakfast in the Queen's Ballroom, for the Lannisters and the Tyrell men-the Tyrell women would be breaking their fast with Margaery-and a hundred odd knights and lordlings. They have made me a Lannister, Sansa thought bitterly.\n\nBrella sent Shae to fetch more hot water while she washed Sansa's back. \"You are trembling, m'lady.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The water is not hot enough,\" Sansa lied.\n\nHer maids were dressing her when Tyrion appeared, Podrick Payne in tow. \"You look lovely, Sansa.\" He turned to his squire. \"Pod, be so good as to pour me a cup of wine.\"\n\n\"There will be wine at the breakfast, my lord,\" Sansa said.\n\n\"There's wine here. You don't expect me to face my sister sober, surely? It's anew century, my lady. The three hundredth year since Aegon's Conquest.\" The dwarf took a cup of red from Podrick and raised it high. \"To Aegon. What a fortunate fellow. Two sisters, two wives, and three big dragons, what more could a man ask for?\" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.\n\nThe Imp's clothing was soiled and unkempt, Sansa noticed; it looked as though he'd slept in it. \"Will you be changing into fresh garb, my lord? Your new doublet is very handsome.\"\n\n\"The doublet is handsome, yes.\" Tyrion put the cup aside. \"Come, Pod, let us see if we can find some garments to make me look less dwarfish. I would not want to shame my lady wife.\"\n\nWhen the Imp returned a short time later, he was presentable enough, and even a little taller. Podrick Payne had changed as well, and looked almost a proper squire for once, although a rather large red pimple in the fold beside his nose spoiled the effect of his splendid purple, white, and gold raiment. He is such a timid boy. Sansa had been wary of Tyrion's squire at first; he was a Payne, cousin to Ser Ilyn Payne who had taken her father's head off. However, she'd soon come to realize that Pod was as frightened of her as she was of his cousin. Whenever she spoke to him, he turned the most alarming shade of red."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Are purple, gold, and white the colors of House Payne, Podrick?\" she asked him politely.\n\n\"No. I mean, yes.\" He blushed. \"The colors. Our arms are purple and white chequy, my lady. With gold coins. In the checks. Purple and white. Both.\" He studied her feet.\n\n\"There's a tale behind those coins,\" said Tyrion. \"No doubt Pod will confide it to your toes one day. Just now we are expected at the Queen's Ballroom, however. Shall we?\"\n\nSansa was tempted to beg off. I could tell him that my tummy was upset, or that my moon's blood had come. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and pull the drapes. I must be brave, like Robb, she told herself, as she took her lord husband stiffly by the arm.\n\nIn the Queen's Ballroom they broke their fast on honeycakes baked with blackberries and nuts, gammon steaks, bacon, fingerfish crisped in breadcrumbs, autumn pears, and a Dornish dish of onions, cheese, and chopped eggs cooked up with fiery peppers. \"Nothing like a hearty breakfast to whet one's appetite for the seventy-seven-course feast to follow,\" Tyrion commented as their plates were filled. There were flagons of milk and flagons of mead and flagons of alight sweet golden wine to wash it down. Musicians strolled among the tables, piping and fluting and fiddling, while Ser Dontos galloped about on his broomstick horse and Moon Boy made farting sounds with his cheeks and sang rude songs about the guests.\n\nTyrion scarce touched his food, Sansa noticed, though he drank several cups of the wine. For herself, she tried a little of the Dornish eggs, but the peppers burned her mouth. Otherwise she only nibbled at the fruit and fish and honeycakes. Every time Joffrey looked at her, her tummy got so fluttery that she felt as though she'd swallowed a bat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When the food had been cleared away, the queen solemnly presented Joff with the wife's cloak that he would drape over Margaery's shoulders."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is the cloak I donned when Robert took me for his queen, the same cloak my mother Lady Joanna wore when wed to my lord father.\" Sansa thought it looked threadbare, if truth be told, but perhaps because it was soused.\n\nThen it was time for gifts. It was traditional in the Reach to give presents to bride and groom on the morning of their wedding; on the morrow they would receive more presents as a couple, but today's tokens were for their separate persons.\n\nFrom Jalabhar Xho, Joffrey received a great bow of golden wood and quiver of long arrows fletched with green and scarlet feathers; from Lady Tanda a pair of supple riding boots; from Ser Kevan a magnificent red leather jousting saddle; a red gold brooch wrought in the shape of a scorpion from the Dornishman, Prince Oberyn; silver spurs from Ser Addam Marbrand; a red silk tourney pavilion from Lord Mathis Rowan. Lord Paxter Redwyne brought forth a beautiful wooden model of the war galley of two hundred oars being built even now on the Arbor. \"If it please Your Grace, she will be called King Joffrey's Valor,\" he said, and Joff allowed that he was very pleased indeed. \"I will make it my flagship when I sail to Dragonstone to kill my traitor uncle Stannis,\" he said.\n\nHe plays the gracious king today. Joffrey could be gallant when it suited him, Sansa knew, but it seemed to suit him less and less. Indeed, all his courtesy vanished at once when Tyrion presented him with their own gift: a huge old book called Lives of Four Kings, bound in leather and gorgeously illuminated. The king leafed through it with no interest. \"And what is this, Uncle?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A book. Sansa wondered if Joffrey moved those fat wormy lips of his when he read.\n\n\"Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good,\" her small husband answered.\n\n\"A book every king should read, Your Grace,\" said Ser Kevan.\n\n\"My father had no time for books.\" Joffrey shoved the tome across the table. \"If you read less, Uncle Imp, perhaps Lady Sansa would have a baby in her belly by now.\" He laughed... and when the king laughs, the court laughs with him. \"Don't be sad, Sansa, once I've gotten Queen Margaery with child I'll visit your bedchamber and show my little uncle how it's done.\"\n\nSansa reddened. She glanced nervously at Tyrion, afraid of what he might say. This could turn as nasty as the bedding had at their own feast. But for once the dwarf filled his mouth with wine instead of words.\n\nLord Mace Tyrell came forward to present his gift: a golden chalice three feet tall, with two ornate curved handles and seven faces glittering with gemstones. \"Seven faces for Your Grace's seven kingdoms,\" the bride's father explained. He showed them how each face bore the sigil of one of the great houses: ruby lion, emerald rose, onyx stag, silver trout, blue jade falcon, opal sun, and pearl direwolf.\n\n\"A splendid cup,\" said Joffrey, \"but we'll need to chip the wolf off and put a squid in its place, I think.\"\n\nSansa pretended that she had not heard."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Margaery and I shall drink deep at the feast, good father.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Joffrey lifted the chalice above his head, for everyone to admire.\n\n\"The damned thing's as tall as I am,\" Tyrion muttered in a low voice. \"Half a chalice and Joff will befalling down drunk.\"\n\nGood, she thought. Perhaps he'll break his neck.\n\nLord Tywin waited until last to present the king with his own gift: a longsword. Its scabbard was made of cherrywood, gold, and oiled red leather, studded with golden lions' heads. The lions had ruby eyes, she saw. The ballroom fell silent as Joffrey unsheathed the blade and thrust the sword above his head. Red and black ripples in the steel shimmered in the morning light.\n\n\"Magnificent,\" declared Mathis Rowan.\n\n\"A sword to sing of, sire,\" said Lord Redwyne.\n\n\"A king's sword,\" said Ser Kevan Lannister.\n\nKing Joffrey looked as if he wanted to kill someone right then and there, he was so excited. He slashed at the air and laughed. \"A great sword must have a great name, my lords! What shall I call it?\"\n\nSansa remembered Lion's Tooth, the sword Arya had flung into the Trident, and Hearteater, the one he'd made her kiss before the battle. She wondered if he'd want Margaery to kiss this one.\n\nThe guests were shouting out names for the new blade. Joff dismissed a dozen before he heard one he liked. \"Widow's Wail!\" he cried. \"Yes! It shall make many a widow, too!\" He slashed again. \"And when I face my uncle Stannis it will break his magic sword clean in two.\" Joff tried a downcut, forcing Ser Balon Swann to take a hasty step backward. Laughter rang through the hall at the look on Ser Balon's face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Have a care, Your Grace,\" Ser Addam Marbrand warned the king. \"Valyrian steel is perilously sharp.\"\n\n\"I remember.\" Joffrey brought Widow's Wail down in a savage two-handed slice, onto the book that Tyrion had given him. The heavy leather cover parted at a stroke. \"Sharp! I told you, I am no stranger to Valyrian steel.\" It took him half a dozen further cuts to hack the thick tome apart, and the boy was breathless by the time he was done. Sansa could feel her husband struggling with his fury as Ser Osmund Kettleblack shouted, \"I pray you never turn that wicked edge on me, sire.\"\n\n\"See that you never give me cause, ser.\" Joffrey flicked a chunk of Lives of Four Kings off the table at swordpoint, then slid Widow's Wail back into its scabbard.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" Ser Garlan Tyrell said. \"Perhaps you did not know. In all of Westeros there were but four copies of that book illuminated in Kaeth's own hand.\"\n\n\"Now there are three.\" Joffrey undid his old swordbelt to don his new one. \"You and Lady Sansa owe me a better present, Uncle Imp. This one is all chopped to pieces.\"\n\nTyrion was staring at his nephew with his mismatched eyes. \"Perhaps a knife, sire. To match your sword. A dagger of the same fine Valyrian steel... with a dragonbone hilt, say?\"\n\nJoff gave him a sharp look. \"You... yes, a dagger to match my sword, good.\" He nodded. \"A... a gold hilt with rubies in it. Dragonbone is too plain.\"\n\n\"As you wish, Your Grace.\" Tyrion drank another cup of wine. He might have been all alone in his solar for all the attention he paid Sansa. But when the time came to leave for the wedding, he took her by the hand."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "As they were crossing the yard, Prince Oberyn of Dorne fell in beside them, his black-haired paramour on his arm. Sansa glanced at the woman curiously. She was baseborn and unwed, and had borne two bastard daughters for the prince, but she did not fear to look even the queen in the eye. Shae had told her that this Ellaria worshiped some Lysene love goddess. \"She was almost a whore when he found her, m'lady,\" her maid confided, \"and now she's near a princess.\" Sansa had never been this close to the Dornishwoman before. She is not truly beautiful, she thought, but something about her draws the eye.\n\n\"I once had the great good fortune to seethe Citadel's copy of Lives of Four Kings,\" Prince Oberyn was telling her lord husband. \"The illuminations were wondrous to behold, but Kaeth was too kind by half to King Viserys.\"\n\nTyrion gave him a sharp look. \"Too kind? He scants Viserys shamefully, in my view. It should have been Lives of Five Kings.\"\n\nThe prince laughed. \"Viserys hardly reigned a fortnight.\"\n\n\"He reigned more than a year,\" said Tyrion.\n\nOberyn gave a shrug. \"A year or a fortnight, what does it matter? He poisoned his own nephew to gain the throne and then did nothing once he had it.\"\n\n\"Baelor starved himself to death, fasting,\" said Tyrion. \"His uncle served him loyally as Hand, as he had served the Young Dragon before him. Viserys might only have reigned a year, but he ruled for fifteen, while Daeron warred and Baelor prayed.\" He made a sour face. \"And if he did remove his nephew, can you blame him? Someone had to save the realm from Baelor's follies.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sansa was shocked. \"But Baelor the Blessed was a great king. He walked the Boneway barefoot to make peace with Dorne, and rescued the Dragonknight from a snakepit. The vipers refused to strike him because he was so pure and holy.\"\n\nPrince Oberyn smiled. \"If you were a viper, my lady, would you want to bite a bloodless stick like Baelor the Blessed? I'd sooner save my fangs for someone juicier...\"\n\n\"My prince is playing with you, Lady Sansa,\" said the woman Ellaria Sand. \"The septons and singers like to say that the snakes did not bite Baelor, but the truth is very different. He was bitten half a hundred times, and should have died from it.\"\n\n\"If he had, Viserys would have reigned a dozen years,\" said Tyrion, \"and the Seven Kingdoms might have been better served. Some believe Baelor was deranged by all that venom.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Prince Oberyn, \"but I've seen no snakes in this Red Keep of yours. So how do you account for Joffrey?\"\n\n\"I prefer not to.\" Tyrion inclined his head stiffly. \"If you will excuse us. Our litter awaits.\" The dwarf helped Sansa up inside and clambered awkwardly after her. \"Close the curtains, my lady, if you'd be so good.\"\n\n\"Must we, my lord?\" Sansa did not want to be shut behind the curtains. \"The day is so lovely.\"\n\n\"The good people of King's Landing are like to throw dung at the litter if they see me inside it. Do us both a kindness, my lady. Close the curtains.\"\n\nShe did as he bid her. They sat fora time, as the air grew warm and stuffy around them. \"I was sorry about your book, my lord,\" she made herself say."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It was Joffrey's book. He might have learned a thing or two if he'd read it.\" He sounded distracted. \"I should have known better. I should have seen... a good many things.\"\n\n\"Perhaps the dagger will please him more.\"\n\nWhen the dwarf grimaced, his scar tightened and twisted. \"The boy's earned himself a dagger, wouldn't you say?\" Thankfully Tyrion did not wait for her reply. \"Joff quarreled with your brother Robb at Winterfell. Tell me, was there ill feeling between Bran and His Grace as well?\"\n\n\"Bran?\" The question confused her. \"Before he fell, you mean?\" She had to try and think back. It was all so long ago. \"Bran was a sweet boy. Everyone loved him. He and Tommen fought with wooden swords, I remember, but just for play.\"\n\nTyrion lapsed back into moody silence. Sansa heard the distant clank of chains from outside; the portcullis was being drawn up. A moment later there was a shout, and their litter swayed into motion. Deprived of the passing scenery, she chose to stare at her folded hands, uncomfortably aware of her husband's mismatched eyes. Why is he looking at me that way?\n\n\"You loved your brothers, much as I love Jaime.\"\n\nIs this some Lannister trap to make me speak treason? \"My brothers were traitors, and they've gone to traitors\" graves. It is treason to love a traitor.\"\n\nHer little husband snorted. \"Robb rose in arms against his rightful king. Bylaw, that made him a traitor. The others died too young to know what treason was.\" He rubbed his nose. \"Sansa, do you know what happened to Bran at Winterfell?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bran fell. He was always climbing things, and finally he fell. We always feared he would. And Theon Greyjoy killed him, but that was later.\"\n\n\"Theon Greyjoy.\" Tyrion sighed. \"Your lady mother once accused me... well, I will not burden you with the ugly details. She accused me falsely. I never harmed your brother Bran. And I mean no harm to you.\"\n\nWhat does he want me to say? \"That is good to know, my lord.\" He wanted something from her, but Sansa did not know what it was. He looks like a starving child, but I have no food to give him. Why won't he leave me be?\n\nTyrion rubbed at his scarred, scabby nose yet again, an ugly habit that drew the eye to his ugly face. \"You have never asked me how Robb died, or your lady mother.\"\n\n\"I... would sooner not know. It would give me bad dreams.\"\n\n\"Then I will say no more.\"\n\n\"That... that's kind of you.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" said Tyrion. \"I am the very soul of kindness. And I know about bad dreams.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "TYRION\n\nThe new crown that his father had given the Faith stood twice as tall as the one the mob had smashed, a glory of crystal and spun gold. Rainbow light flashed and shimmered every time the High Septon moved his head, but Tyrion had to wonder how the man could bear the weight. And even he had to concede that Joffrey and Margaery made a regal couple, as they stood side-by-side between the towering gilded statues of the Father and the Mother.\n\nThe bride was lovely in ivory silk and Myrish lace, her skirts decorated with floral patterns picked out in seed pearls. As Renly's widow, she might have worn the Baratheon colors, gold and black, yet she came to them a Tyrell, in a maiden's cloak made of a hundred cloth-of-gold roses sewn to green velvet. He wondered if she really was a maiden. Not that Joffrey is like to know the difference.\n\nThe king looked near as splendid as his bride, in his doublet of dusky rose, beneath a cloak of deep crimson velvet blazoned with his stag and lion. The crown rested easily on his curls, gold on gold. I saved that bloody crown for him. Tyrion shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He could not standstill. Too much wine. He should have thought to relieve himself before they set out from the Red Keep. The sleepless night he'd spent with Shae was making itself felt too, but most of all he wanted to strangle his bloody royal nephew.\n\nI am no stranger to Valyrian steel, the boy had boasted. The septons were always going on about how the Father Above judges us all. If the Father would be so good as to topple over and crush Joff like a dung beetle, I might even believe it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He ought to have seen it long ago."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jaime would never send another man to do his killing, and Cersei was too cunning to use a knife that could be traced back to her, but Joff, arrogant vicious stupid little wretch that he was...\n\nHe remembered a cold morning when he'd climbed down the steep exterior steps from Winterfell's library to find Prince Joffrey jesting with the Hound about killing wolves. Send a dog to kill a wolf, he said. Even Joffrey was not so foolish as to command Sandor Clegane to slay a son of Eddard Stark, however; the Hound would have gone to Cersei. Instead the boy found his catspaw among the unsavory lot of freeriders, merchants, and camp followers who'd attached themselves to the king's party as they made their way north. Some poxy lackwit willing to risk his life fora prince's favor and a little coin. Tyrion wondered whose idea it had been to wait until Robert left Winterfell before opening Bran's throat. Joff's, most like. No doubt he thought it was the height of cunning.\n\nThe prince's own dagger had a jeweled pommel and inlaid goldwork on the blade, Tyrion seemed to recall. At least Joff had not been stupid enough to use that. Instead he went poking among his father's weapons. Robert Baratheon was a man of careless generosity, and would have given his son any dagger he wanted... but Tyrion guessed that the boy had just taken it. Robert had come to Winterfell with along tail of knights and retainers, a huge wheelhouse, and a baggage train. No doubt some diligent servant had made certain that the king's weapons went with him, in case he should desire any of them.\n\nThe blade Joff chose was nice and plain. No goldwork, no jewels in the hilt, no silver inlay on the blade. King Robert never wore it, had likely forgotten he owned it. Yet the Valyrian steel was deadly sharp... sharp enough to slice through skin, flesh, and muscle in one quick stroke. I am no stranger to Valyrian steel. But he had been, hadn't he? Else he would never have been so foolish as to pick Littlefinger's knife."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The why of it still eluded him. Simple cruelty, perhaps? His nephew had that in abundance. It was all Tyrion could do not to retch up all the wine he'd drunk, piss in his breeches, or both. He squirmed uncomfortably. He ought to have held his tongue at breakfast. The boy knows I know now. My bigmouth will be the death of me, I swear it.\n\nThe seven vows were made, the seven blessings invoked, and the seven promises exchanged. When the wedding song had been sung and the challenge had gone unanswered, it was time for the exchange of cloaks. Tyrion shifted his weight from one stunted leg to the other, trying to see between his father and his uncle Kevan. If the gods are just, Joff will make a hash of this. He made certain not to look at Sansa, lest his bitterness show in his eyes. You might have knelt, damn you. Would it have been so bloody hard to bend those stiff Stark knees of yours and let me keep a little dignity?\n\nMace Tyrell removed his daughter's maiden cloak tenderly, while Joffrey accepted the folded bride's cloak from his brother Tommen and shook it outwith a flourish. The boy king was as tall at thirteen as his bride was at sixteen; he would not require a fool's back to climb upon. He draped Margaery in the crimson-and-gold and leaned close to fasten it at her throat. And that easily she passed from her father's protection to her husband's. But who will protect her from Joff? Tyrion glanced at the Knight of Flowers, standing with the other Kingsguard. You had best keep your sword well honed, Ser Loras.\n\n\"With this kiss I pledge my love!\" Joffrey declared in ringing tones. When Margaery echoed the words he pulled her close and kissed her long and deep. Rainbow lights danced once more about the High Septon's crown as he solemnly declared Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister and Margaery of House Tyrell to be one flesh, one heart, one soul."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Good, that's done with. Now let's get back to the bloody castle so I can have a piss.\n\nSer Loras and Ser Meryn led the procession from the sept in their white scale armor and snowy cloaks. Then came Prince Tommen, scattering rose petals from a basket before the king and queen. After the royal couple followed Queen Cersei and Lord Tyrell, then the bride's mother arm-in-arm with Lord Tywin. The Queen of Thorns tottered after them with one hand on Ser Kevan Lannister's arm and the other on her cane, her twin guardsmen close behind her in case she fell. Next came Ser Garlan Tyrell and his lady wife, and finally it was their turn.\n\n\"My lady.\" Tyrion offered Sansa his arm. She took it dutifully, but he could feel her stiffness as they walked up the aisle together. She never once looked down at him.\n\nHe heard them cheering outside even before he reached the doors. The mob loved Margaery so much they were even willing to love Joffrey again. She had belonged to Renly, the handsome young prince who had loved them so well he had comeback from beyond the grave to save them. And the bounty of Highgarden had come with her, flowing up the roseroad from the south. The fools didn't seem to remember that it had been Mace Tyrell who closed the roseroad to begin with, and made the bloody famine.\n\nThey stepped out into the crisp autumn air. \"I feared we'd never escape,\" Tyrion quipped.\n\nSansa had no choice but to look at him then. \"I... yes, my lord. As you say.\" She looked sad. \"It was such a beautiful ceremony, though.\"\n\nAs ours was not. \"It was long, I'll say that much. I need to return to the castle fora good piss.\" Tyrion rubbed the stump of his nose. \"Would that I'd contrived some mission to take me out of the city. Littlefinger was the clever one.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Joffrey and Margaery stood surrounded by Kingsguard atop the steps that fronted on the broad marble plaza."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Addam and his gold cloaks held back the crowd, while the statue of King Baelor the Blessed gazed down on them benevolently. Tyrion had no choice but to queue up with the rest to offer congratulations. He kissed Margaery's fingers and wished her every happiness. Thankfully, there were others behind them waiting their turn, so they did not need to linger long.\n\nTheir litter had been sitting in the sun, and it was very warm inside the curtains. As they lurched into motion, Tyrion reclined on an elbow while Sansa sat staring at her hands. She is just as comely as the Tyrell girl. Her hair was a rich autumn auburn, her eyes a deep Tully blue. Grief had given her a haunted, vulnerable look; if anything, it had only made her more beautiful. He wanted to reach her, to breakthrough the armor of her courtesy. Was that what made him speak? Or just the need to distract himself from the fullness in his bladder?\n\n\"I had been thinking that when the roads are safe again, we might journey to Casterly Rock.\" Far from Joffrey and my sister. The more he thought about what Joff had done to Lives of Four Kings, the more it troubled him. There was a message there, oh yes. \"It would please me to show you the Golden Gallery and the Lion's Mouth, and the Hall of Heroes where Jaime and I played as boys. You can hear thunder from below where the sea comes in...\"\n\nShe raised her head slowly. He knew what she was seeing; the swollen brutish brow, the raw stump of his nose, his crooked pink scar and mismatched eyes. Her own eyes were big and blue and empty. \"I shall go wherever my lord husband wishes.\"\n\n\"I had hoped it might please you, my lady.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It will please me to please my lord.\"\n\nHis mouth tightened. What apathetic little man you are. Did you think babbling about the Lion's Mouth would make her smile? When have you ever made a woman smile but with gold? \"No, it was a foolish notion. Only a Lannister can love the Rock.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord. As you wish.\"\n\nTyrion could hear the commons shouting out King Joffrey's name. In three years that cruel boy will be a man, ruling in his own right... and every dwarf with half his wits will be along way from King's Landing. Oldtown, perhaps. Or even the Free Cities. He had always had a yen to seethe Titan of Braavos. Perhaps that would please Sansa. Gently, he spoke of Braavos, and meta wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he had walked once in the north. It made him weary. Then and now.\n\nThey passed the rest of the journey in silence. After awhile, Tyrion found himself hoping that Sansa would say something, anything, the merest word, but she never spoke. When the litter halted in the castle yard, he let one of the grooms help her down. \"We will be expected at the feast an hour hence, my lady. I will join you shortly.\" He walked off stiff-legged. Across the yard, he could hear Margaery's breathless laugh as Joffrey swept her from the saddle. The boy will be as tall and strong as Jaime one day, he thought, and I'll still be a dwarf beneath his feet. And one day he's like to make me even shorter...\n\nHe found a privy and sighed gratefully as he relieved himself of the morning's wine. There were times when a piss felt near as good as a woman, and this was one. He wished he could relieve himself of his doubts and guilts half as easily."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Podrick Payne was waiting outside his chambers."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I laid out your new doublet. Not here. On your bed. In the bedchamber.\"\n\n\"Yes, that's where we keep the bed.\" Sansa would be in there, dressing for the feast. Shae as well. \"Wine, Pod.\"\n\nTyrion drank it in his window seat, brooding over the chaos of the kitchens below. The sun had not yet touched the top of the castle wall, but he could smell breads baking and meats roasting. The guests would soon be pouring into the throne room, full of anticipation; this would bean evening of song and splendor, designed not only to unite Highgarden and Casterly Rock but to trumpet their power and wealth as a lesson to any who might still think to oppose Joffrey's rule.\n\nBut who would be mad enough to contest Joffrey's rule now, after what had befallen Stannis Baratheon and Robb Stark? There was still fighting in the riverlands, but everywhere the coils were tightening. Ser Gregor Clegane had crossed the Trident and seized the ruby ford, then captured Harrenhal almost effortlessly. Seagard had yielded to Black Walder Frey, Lord Randyll Tarly held Maidenpool, Duskendale, and the kingsroad. In the west, Ser Daven Lannister had linked up with Ser Forley Prester at the Golden Tooth fora march on Riverrun. Ser Ryman Frey was leading two thousand spears down from the Twins to join them. And Paxter Redwyne claimed his fleet would soon set sail from the Arbor, to begin the long voyage around Dorne and through the Stepstones. Stannis's Lyseni pirates would be outnumbered ten to one. The struggle that the maesters were calling the War of the Five Kings was all but at an end. Mace Tyrell had been heard complaining that Lord Tywin had left no victories for him."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My lord?\" Pod was at his side. \"Will you be changing? I laid out the doublet. On your bed. For the feast.\"\n\n\"Feast?\" said Tyrion sourly. \"What feast?\"\n\n\"The wedding feast.\" Pod missed the sarcasm, of course. \"King Joffrey and Lady Margaery. Queen Margaery, I mean.\"\n\nTyrion resolved to get very, very drunk tonight. \"Very well, young Podrick, let us go make me festive.\"\n\nShae was helping Sansa with her hair when they entered the bedchamber. Joy and grief, he thought when he beheld them there together. Laughter and tears. Sansa wore a gown of silvery satin trimmed in vair, with dagged sleeves that almost touched the floor, lined in soft purple felt. Shae had arranged her hair artfully in a delicate silver net winking with dark purple gemstones. Tyrion had never seen her look more lovely, yet she wore sorrow on those long satin sleeves. \"Lady Sansa,\" he told her, \"you shall be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight.\"\n\n\"My lord is too kind.\"\n\n\"My lady,\" said Shae wistfully. \"Couldn't I come serve at table? I so want to seethe pigeons fly out of the pie.\"\n\nSansa looked at her uncertainly. \"The queen has chosen all the servers.\"\n\n\"And the hall will be too crowded.\" Tyrion had to bite back his annoyance. \"There will be musicians strolling all through the castle, though, and tables in the outer ward with food and drink for all.\" He inspected his new doublet, crimson velvet with padded shoulders and puffed sleeves slashed to show the black satin underlining. A handsome garment. All it wants is a handsome man to wear it. \"Come, Pod, help me into this.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had another cup of wine as he dressed, then took his wife by the arm and escorted her from the Kitchen Keep to join the river of silk, satin, and velvet flowing toward the throne room. Some guests had gone inside to find their places on the benches. Others were milling in front of the doors, enjoying the unseasonable warmth of the afternoon. Tyrion led Sansa around the yard, to perform the necessary courtesies.\n\nShe is good at this, he thought, as he watched her tell Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding better, compliment Elinor Tyrell on her gown, and question Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in the Summer Isles. His cousin Ser Lancel had been brought down by Ser Kevan, the first time he'd left his sickbed since the battle. He looks ghastly. Lancel's hair had turned white and brittle, and he was thin as a stick. Without his father beside him holding him up, he would surely have collapsed. Yet when Sansa praised his valor and said how good it was to see him getting strong again, both Lancel and Ser Kevan beamed. She would have made Joffrey a good queen and a better wife if he'd had the sense to love her. He wondered if his nephew was capable of loving anyone.\n\n\"You do look quite exquisite, child,\" Lady Olenna Tyrell told Sansa when she tottered up to them in a cloth-of-gold gown that must have weighed more than she did. \"The wind has been at your hair, though.\" The little old woman reached up and fussed at the loose strands, tucking them back into place and straightening Sansa's hairnet. \"I was very sorry to hear about your losses,\" she said as she tugged and fiddled. \"Your brother was a terrible traitor, I know, but if we start killing men at weddings they'll be even more frightened of marriage than they are presently. There, that's better.\" Lady Olenna smiled. \"I am pleased to say I shall be leaving for Highgarden the day after next. I have had quite enough of this smelly city, thank you. Perhaps you would like to accompany me fora little visit, whilst the men are off having their war? I shall miss my Margaery so dreadfully, and all her lovely ladies. Your company would be such sweet solace.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are too kind, my lady,\" said Sansa, \"but my place is with my lord husband.\"\n\nLady Olenna gave Tyrion a wrinkled, toothless smile. \"Oh? Forgive a silly old woman, my lord, I did not mean to steal your lovely wife. I assumed you would be off leading a Lannister host against some wicked foe.\"\n\n\"A host of dragons and stags. The master of coin must remain at court to see that all the armies are paid for.\"\n\n\"To be sure. Dragons and stags, that's very clever. And dwarf's pennies as well. I have heard of these dwarf's pennies. No doubt collecting those is such a dreadful chore.\"\n\n\"I leave the collecting to others, my lady.\"\n\n\"Oh, do you? I would have thought you might want to tend to it yourself. We can't have the crown being cheated of its dwarf's pennies, now. Can we?\"\n\n\"Gods forbid.\" Tyrion was beginning to wonder whether Lord Luthor Tyrell had ridden off that cliff intentionally. \"If you will excuse us, Lady Olenna, it is time we were in our places.\"\n\n\"Myself as well. Seventy-seven courses, I daresay. Don't you find that a bit excessive, my lord? I shan't eat more than three or four bites myself, but you and I are very little, aren't we?\" She patted Sansa's hair again and said, \"Well, off with you, child, and try to be merrier. Now where have my guardsmen gone? Left, Right, where are you? Come help me to the dais.\"\n\nAlthough evenfall was still an hour away, the throne room was already ablaze of light, with torches burning in every sconce. The guests stood along the tables as heralds called out the names and titles of the lords and ladies making their entrance. Pages in the royal livery escorted them down the broad central aisle. The gallery above was packed with musicians; drummers and pipers and fiddlers, strings and horns and skins."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tyrion clutched Sansa's arm and made the walk with a heavy waddling stride."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could feel their eyes on him, picking at the fresh new scar that had left him even uglier than he had been before. Let them look, he thought as he hopped up onto his seat. Let them stare and whisper until they've had their fill, I will not hide myself for their sake. The Queen of Thorns followed them in, shuffling along with tiny little steps. Tyrion wondered which of them looked more absurd, him with Sansa or the wizened little woman between her seven-foot-tall twin guardsmen.\n\nJoffrey and Margaery rode into the throne room on matched white chargers. Pages ran before them, scattering rose petals under their hooves. The king and queen had changed for the feast as well. Joffrey wore striped black-and-crimson breeches and a cloth-of-gold doublet with black satin sleeves and onyx studs. Margaery had exchanged the demure gown that she had worn in the sept for one much more revealing, a confection in pale green samite with a tight-laced bodice that bared her shoulders and the tops of her small breasts. Unbound, her soft brown hair tumbled over her white shoulders and down her back almost to her waist. Around her brows was a slim golden crown. Her smile was shy and sweet. A lovely girl, thought Tyrion, and a kinder fate than my nephew deserves.\n\nThe Kingsguard escorted them onto the dais, to the seats of honor beneath the shadow of the Iron Throne, draped for the occasion in long silk streamers of Baratheon gold, Lannister crimson, and Tyrell green. Cersei embraced Margaery and kissed her cheeks. Lord Tywin did the same, and then Lancel and Ser Kevan. Joffrey received loving kisses from the bride's father and his two new brothers, Loras and Garlan. No one seemed in any great rush to kiss Tyrion. When the king and queen had taken their seats, the High Septon rose to lead a prayer. At least he does not drone as badly as the last one, Tyrion consoled himself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He and Sansa had been seated far to the king's right, beside Ser Garlan Tyrell and his wife, the Lady Leonette. A dozen others sat closer to Joffrey, which a pricklier man might have taken fora slight, given that he had been the King's Hand only a short time past. Tyrion would have been glad if there had been a hundred.\n\n\"Let the cups be filled!\" Joffrey proclaimed, when the gods had been given their due. His cupbearer poured a whole flagon of dark Arbor red into the golden wedding chalice that Lord Tyrell had given him that morning. The king had to use both hands to lift it. \"To my wife the queen!\"\n\n\"Margaery!\" the hall shouted back at him. \"Margaery! Margaery! To the queen!\" A thousand cups rang together, and the wedding feast was well and truly begun. Tyrion Lannister drank with the rest, emptying his cup on that first toast and signaling for it to be refilled as soon as he was seated again.\n\nThe first dish was a creamy soup of mushrooms and buttered snails, served in gilded bowls. Tyrion had scarcely touched the breakfast, and the wine had already gone to his head, so the food was welcome. He finished quickly. One done, seventy-six to come. Seventy-seven dishes, while there are still starving children in this city, and men who would kill fora radish. They might not love the Tyrells half so well if they could see us now.\n\nSansa tasted a spoonful of soup and pushed the bowl away. \"Not to your liking, my lady?\" Tyrion asked.\n\n\"There's to be so much, my lord. I have a little tummy.\" She fiddled nervously with her hair and looked down the table to where Joffrey sat with his Tyrell queen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Does she wish it were her in Margaery's place?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion frowned. Even a child should have better sense. He turned away, wanting distraction, but everywhere he looked were women, fair fine beautiful happy women who belonged to other men. Margaery, of course, smiling sweetly as she and Joffrey shared a drink from the great seven-sided wedding chalice. Her mother Lady Alerie, silver-haired and handsome, still proud beside Mace Tyrell. The queen's three young cousins, bright as birds. Lord Merryweather's dark-haired Myrish wife with her big black sultry eyes. Ellaria Sand among the Dornishmen (Cersei had placed them at their own table, just below the dais in a place of high honor but as far from the Tyrells as the width of the hall would allow), laughing at something the Red Viper had told her.\n\nAnd there was one woman, sitting almost at the foot of the third table on the left... the wife of one of the Fossoways, he thought, and heavy with his child. Her delicate beauty was in noway diminished by her belly, nor washer pleasure in the food and frolics. Tyrion watched as her husband fed her morsels off his plate. They drank from the same cup, and would kiss often and unpredictably. Whenever they did, his hand would gently rest upon her stomach, a tender and protective gesture.\n\nHe wondered what Sansa would do if he leaned over and kissed her right now. Flinch away, most likely. Or be brave and suffer through it, as washer duty. She is nothing if not dutiful, this wife of mine. If he told her that he wished to have her maidenhead tonight, she would suffer that dutifully as well, and weep no more than she had to.\n\nHe called for more wine. By the time he got it, the second course was being served, a pstry coffyn filled with pork, pine nuts, and eggs. Sansa ate no more than a bite of hers, as the heralds were summoning the first of the seven singers."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In your role as the author's collaborator, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 62"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Does she wish it were her in Margaery's place?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion frowned. Even a child should have better sense. He turned away, wanting distraction, but everywhere he looked were women, fair fine beautiful happy women who belonged to other men. Margaery, of course, smiling sweetly as she and Joffrey shared a drink from the great seven-sided wedding chalice. Her mother Lady Alerie, silver-haired and handsome, still proud beside Mace Tyrell. The queen's three young cousins, bright as birds. Lord Merryweather's dark-haired Myrish wife with her big black sultry eyes. Ellaria Sand among the Dornishmen (Cersei had placed them at their own table, just below the dais in a place of high honor but as far from the Tyrells as the width of the hall would allow), laughing at something the Red Viper had told her.\n\nAnd there was one woman, sitting almost at the foot of the third table on the left... the wife of one of the Fossoways, he thought, and heavy with his child. Her delicate beauty was in noway diminished by her belly, nor washer pleasure in the food and frolics. Tyrion watched as her husband fed her morsels off his plate. They drank from the same cup, and would kiss often and unpredictably. Whenever they did, his hand would gently rest upon her stomach, a tender and protective gesture.\n\nHe wondered what Sansa would do if he leaned over and kissed her right now. Flinch away, most likely. Or be brave and suffer through it, as washer duty. She is nothing if not dutiful, this wife of mine. If he told her that he wished to have her maidenhead tonight, she would suffer that dutifully as well, and weep no more than she had to.\n\nHe called for more wine. By the time he got it, the second course was being served, a pstry coffyn filled with pork, pine nuts, and eggs. Sansa ate no more than a bite of hers, as the heralds were summoning the first of the seven singers."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
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"value": "Grey-bearded Hamish the Harper announced that he would perform'for the ears of gods and men, a song ne'er heard before in all the Seven Kingdoms.\" He called it'Lord Renly's Ride.\"\n\nHis fingers moved across the strings of the high harp, filling the throne room with sweet sound. \"From his throne of bones the Lord of Death looked down on the murdered lord,\" Hamish began, and went onto tell how Renly, repenting his attempt to usurp his nephew's crown, had defied the Lord of Death himself and crossed back to the land of the living to defend the realm against his brother.\n\nAnd for this poor Symon wound up in a bowl of brown, Tyrion mused. Queen Margaery was teary-eyed by the end, when the shade of brave Lord Renly flew to Highgarden to steal one last look at his truelove's face. \"Renly Baratheon never repented of anything in his life,\" the Imp told Sansa, \"but if I'm any judge, Hamish just won himself a gilded lute.\"\n\nThe Harper also gave them several more familiar songs. \"A Rose of Gold\" was for the Tyrells, no doubt, as'The Rains of Castamere\" was meant to flatter his father. \"Maiden, Mother, and Crone\" delighted the High Septon, and'My Lady Wife\" pleased all the little girls with romance in their hearts, and no doubt some little boys as well. Tyrion listened with half a ear, as he sampled sweetcorn fritters and hot oatbread baked with bits of date, apple, and orange, and gnawed on the rib of a wild boar.\n\nThereafter dishes and diversions succeeded one another in a staggering profusion, buoyed along upon a flood of wine and ale. Hamish left them, his place taken by a smallish elderly bear who danced clumsily to pipe and drum while the wedding guests ate trout cooked in a crust of crushed almonds. Moon Boy mounted his stilts and strode around the tables in pursuit of Lord Tyrell's ludicrously fat fool Butterbumps, and the lords and ladies sampled roast herons and cheese-and-onion pies. A troupe of Pentoshi tumblers performed cartwheels and handstands, balanced platters on their bare feet, and stood upon each other's shoulders to form a pyramid. Their feats were accompanied by crabs boiled in fiery eastern spices, trenchers filled with chunks of chopped mutton stewed in almond milk with carrots, raisins, and onions, and fish tarts fresh from the ovens, served so hot they burned the fingers."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then the heralds summoned another singer; Collio Quaynis of Tyrosh, who had a vermilion beard and an accent as ludicrous as Symon had promised. Collio began with his version of'The Dance of the Dragons,\" which was more properly a song for two singers, male and female. Tyrion suffered through it with a double helping of honey-ginger partridge and several cups of wine. A haunting ballad of two dying lovers amidst the Doom of Valyria might have pleased the hall more if Collio had not sung it in High Valyrian, which most of the guests could not speak. But'Bessa the Barmaid\" won them back with its ribald lyrics. Peacocks were served in their plumage, roasted whole and stuffed with dates, while Collio summoned a drummer, bowed low before Lord Tywin, and launched into'The Rains of Castamere.\"\n\nIf I have to hear seven versions of that, I may go down to Flea Bottom and apologize to the stew. Tyrion turned to his wife. \"So which did you prefer?\"\n\nSansa blinked at him. \"My lord?\"\n\n\"The singers. Which did you prefer?\"\n\n\"I... I'm sorry, my lord. I was not listening.\"\n\nShe was not eating, either. \"Sansa, is aught amiss?\" He spoke without thinking, and instantly felt the fool. All her kin are slaughtered and she's wed tome, and I wonder what's amiss.\n\n\"No, my lord.\" She looked away from him, and feigned an unconvincing interest in Moon Boy pelting Ser Dontos with dates.\n\nFour master pyromancers conjured up beasts of living flame to tear at each other with fiery claws whilst the serving men ladeled out bowls of blandissory, a mixture of beef broth and boiled wine sweetened with honey and dotted with blanched almonds and chunks of capon. Then came some strolling pipers and clever dogs and sword swallowers, with buttered pease, chopped nuts, and slivers of swan poached in a sauce of saffron and peaches. (\"Not swan again,\" Tyrion muttered, remembering his supper with his sister on the eve of battle.) A juggler kept a half-dozen swords and axes whirling through the air as skewers of blood sausage were brought sizzling to the tables, a juxtaposition that Tyrion thought passing clever, though not perhaps in the best of taste."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The heralds blew their trumpets. \"To sing for the golden lute,\" one cried, \"we give you Galyeon of Cuy.\"\n\nGalyeon was a big barrel-chested man with a black beard, a bald head, and a thunderous voice that filled every corner of the throne room. He brought no fewer than six musicians to play for him. \"Noble lords and ladies fair, I sing but one song for you this night,\" he announced. \"It is the song of the Blackwater, and how a realm was saved.\" The drummer began a slow ominous beat.\n\n\"The dark lord brooded high in his tower,\" Galyeon began, \"in a castle as black as the night.\"\n\n\"Black was his hair and black was his soul,\" the musicians chanted in unison. A flute came in.\n\n\"He feasted on bloodlust and envy, and filled his cup full up with spite,\" sang Galyeon. \"My brother once ruled seven kingdoms, he said to his harridan wife. I'll take what was his and make it all mine. Let his son feel the point of my knife.\"\n\n\"A brave young boy with hair of gold,\" his players chanted, as a woodharp and a fiddle began to play.\n\n\"If I am ever Hand again, the first thing I'll do is hang all the singers,\" said Tyrion, too loudly.\n\nLady Leonette laughed lightly beside him, and Ser Garlan leaned over to say, \"A valiant deed unsung is no less valiant.\"\n\n\"The dark lord assembled his legions, they gathered around him like crows. And thirsty for blood they boarded their ships...\"\n\n\"... and cutoff poor Tyrion's nose,\" Tyrion finished."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lady Leonette giggled. \"Perhaps you should be a singer, my lord. You rhyme as well as this Galyeon.\"\n\n\"No, my lady,\" Ser Garlan said. \"My lord of Lannister was made to do great deeds, not to sing of them. But for his chain and his wildfire, the foe would have been across the river. And if Tyrion's wildlings had not slain most of Lord Stannis's scouts, we would never have been able to take him unawares.\"\n\nHis words made Tyrion feel absurdly grateful, and helped to mollify him as Galyeon sang endless verses about the valor of the boy king and his mother, the golden queen.\n\n\"She never did that,\" Sansa blurted out suddenly.\n\n\"Never believe anything you hear in a song, my lady.\" Tyrion summoned a serving man to refill their wine cups.\n\nSoon it was full night outside the tall windows, and still Galyeon sang on. His song had seventy-seven verses, though it seemed more like a thousand. One for every guest in the hall. Tyrion drank his way through the last twenty or so, to help resist the urge to stuff mushrooms in his ears. By the time the singer had taken his bows, some of the guests were drunk enough to begin providing unintentional entertainments of their own. Grand Maester Pycelle fell asleep while dancers from the Summer Isles swirled and spun in robes made of bright feathers and smoky silk. Roundels of elk stuffed with ripe blue cheese were being brought out when one of Lord Rowan's knights stabbed a Dornishman. The gold cloaks dragged them both away, one to a cell to rot and the other to get sewn up by Maester Ballabar.\n\nTyrion was toying with a leche of brawn, spiced with cinnamon, cloves, sugar, and almond milk, when King Joffrey lurched suddenly to his feet. \"Bring on my royal jousters!\" he shouted in a voice thick with wine, clapping his hands together."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "My nephew is drunker than I am, Tyrion thought as the gold cloaks opened the great doors at the end of the hall. From where he sat, he could only seethe tops of two striped lances as a pair of riders entered side by side. A wave of laughter followed them down the center aisle toward the king. They must be riding ponies, he concluded... until they came into full view.\n\nThe jousters were a pair of dwarfs. One was mounted on an ugly grey dog, long of leg and heavy of jaw. The other rode an immense spotted sow. Painted wooden armor clattered and clacked as the little knights bounced up and down in their saddles. Their shields were bigger than they were, and they wrestled manfully with their lances as they clomped along, swaying this way and that and eliciting gusts of mirth. One knight was all in gold, with a black stag painted on his shield; the other wore grey and white, and bore a wolf device. Their mounts were barded likewise.\n\nTyrion glanced along the dais at all the laughing faces. Joffrey was red and breathless, Tommen was hooting and hopping up and down in his seat, Cersei was chuckling politely, and even Lord Tywin looked mildly amused. Of all those at the high table, only Sansa Stark was not smiling. He could have loved her for that, but if truth be told the Stark girl's eyes were faraway, as if she had not even seen the ludicrous riders loping toward her.\n\nThe dwarfs are not to blame, Tyrion decided. When they are done, I shall compliment them and give them a fat purse of silver. And come the morrow, I will find whoever planned this little diversion and arrange fora different sort of thanks."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When the dwarfs reined up beneath the dais to salute the king, the wolf knight dropped his shield. Ashe leaned over to grab for it, the stag knight lost control of his heavy lance and slammed him across the back. The wolf knight fell off his pig, and his lance tumbled over and boinked his foe on the head. They both wound upon the floor in a great tangle. When they rose, both tried to mount the dog. Much shouting and shoving followed. Finally they regained their saddles, only mounted on each other's steed, holding the wrong shield and facing backward.\n\nIt took sometime to sort that out, but in the end they spurred to opposite ends of the hall, and wheeled about for the tilt. As the lords and ladies guffawed and giggled, the little men came together with a crash and a clatter, and the wolf knight's lance struck the helm of the stag knight and knocked his head clean off. It spun through the air spattering blood to land in the lap of Lord Gyles. The headless dwarf careened around the tables, flailing his arms. Dogs barked, women shrieked, and Moon Boy made a great show of swaying perilously back and forth on his stilts, until Lord Gyles pulled a dripping red melon out of the shattered helm, at which point the stag knight poked his face up out of his armor, and another storm of laughter rocked the hall. The knights waited for it to die, circled around each other trading colorful insults, and were about to separate for another joust when the dog threw its rider to the floor and mounted the sow. The huge pig squealed in distress, while the wedding guests squealed with laughter, especially when the stag knight leapt onto the wolf knight, letdown his wooden breeches, and started to pump away frantically at the other's nether portions."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I yield, I yield,\" the dwarf on the bottom screamed. \"Good ser, put up your sword!\"\n\n\"I would, I would, if you'll stop moving the sheath!\" the dwarf on the top replied, to the merriment of all.\n\nJoffrey was snorting wine from both nostrils. Gasping, he lurched to his feet, almost knocking over his tall two-handed chalice. \"A champion,\" he shouted. \"We have a champion!\" The hall began to quiet when it was seen that the king was speaking. The dwarfs untangled, no doubt anticipating the royal thanks. \"Not a true champion, though,\" said Joff. \"A true champion defeats all challengers.\" The king climbed upon the table. \"Who else will challenge our tiny champion?\" With a gleeful smile, he turned toward Tyrion. \"Uncle! You'll defend the honor of my realm, won't you? You can ride the pig!\"\n\nThe laughter crashed over him like a wave. Tyrion Lannister did not remember rising, nor climbing on his chair, but he found himself standing on the table. The hall was a torchlit blur of leering faces. He twisted his face into the most hideous mockery of a smile the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen. \"Your Grace,\" he called, \"I'll ride the pig... but only if you ride the dog!\"\n\nJoff scowled, confused. \"Me? I'm no dwarf. Why me?\"\n\nStepped right into the cut, Joff. \"Why, you're the only man in the hall that I'm certain of defeating!\"\n\nHe could not have said which was sweeter; the instant of shocked silence, the gale of laughter that followed, or the look of blind rage on his nephew's face. The dwarf hopped back to the floor well satisfied, and by the time he looked back Ser Osmund and Ser Meryn were helping Joff climb down as well. When he noticed Cersei glaring at him, Tyrion blew her a kiss."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was a relief when the musícians began to play. The tiny jousters led dog and sow from the hall, the guests returned to their trenchers of brawn, and Tyrion called for another cup of wine. But suddenly he felt Ser Garlan's hand on his sleeve. \"My lord, beware,\" the knight warned. \"The king.\"\n\nTyrion turned in his seat. Joffrey was almost upon him, red-faced and staggering, wine slopping over the rim of the great golden wedding chalice he carried in both hands. \"Your Grace,\" was all he had time to say before the king upended the chalice over his head. The wine washed down over his face in a red torrent. It drenched his hair, stung his eyes, burned in his wound, ran down his cheeks, and soaked the velvet of his new doublet. \"How do you like that, Imp?\" Joffrey mocked.\n\nTyrion's eyes were on fire. He dabbed at his face with the back of a sleeve and tried to blink the world back into clarity. \"That was ill done, Your Grace,\" he heard Ser Garlan say quietly.\n\n\"Not at all, Ser Garlan.\" Tyrion dare not let this grow any uglier than it was, not here, with half the realm looking on. \"Not every king would think to honor a humble subject by serving him from his own royal chalice. A pity the wine spilled.\"\n\n\"It didn't spill,\" said Joffrey, too graceless to take the retreat Tyrion offered him. \"And I wasn't serving you, either.\"\n\nQueen Margaery appeared suddenly at Joffrey's elbow. \"My sweet king,\" the Tyrell girl entreated, \"come, return to your place, there's another singer waiting.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Alaric of Eysen,\" said Lady Olenna Tyrell, leaning on her cane and taking no more notice of the wine-soaked dwarf than her granddaughter had done. \"I do so hope he plays us \"The Rains of Castamere.\" It has been an hour, I've forgotten how it goes.\"\n\n\"Ser Addam has a toast he wants to make as well,\" said Margaery. \"Your Grace, please.\"\n\n\"I have no wine,\" Joffrey declared. \"How can I drink a toast if I have no wine? Uncle Imp, you can serve me. Since you won't joust you'll be my cupbearer.\"\n\n\"I would be most honored.\"\n\n\"It's not meant to bean honor!\" Joffrey screamed. \"Bend down and pickup my chalice.\" Tyrion did as he was bid, but as he reached for the handle Joff kicked the chalice through his legs. \"Pick it up! Are you as clumsy as you are ugly?\" He had to crawl under the table to find the thing. \"Good, now fill it with wine.\" He claimed a flagon from a serving girl and filled the goblet three-quarters full. \"No, on your knees, dwarf.\" Kneeling, Tyrion raised up the heavy cup, wondering if he was about to get a second bath. But Joffrey took the wedding chalice one-handed, drank deep, and set it on the table. \"You can getup now, Uncle.\"\n\nHis legs cramped as he tried to rise, and almost spilled him again. Tyrion had to grab hold of a chair to steady himself. Ser Garlan lent him a hand. Joffrey laughed, and Cersei as well. Then others. He could not see who, but he heard them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your Grace.\" Lord Tywin's voice was impeccably correct. \"They are bringing in the pie. Your sword is needed.\"\n\n\"The pie?\" Joffrey took his queen by the hand. \"Come, my lady, it's the pie.\"\n\nThe guests stood, shouting and applauding and smashing their wine cups together as the great pie made its slow way down the length of the hall, wheeled along by a half-dozen beaming cooks. Two yards across it was, crusty and golden brown, and they could hear squeaks and thumpings coming from inside it.\n\nTyrion pulled himself back into his chair. All he needed now was fora dove to shit on him and his day would be complete. The wine had soaked through his doublet and smallclothes, and he could feel the wetness against his skin. He ought to change, but no one was permitted to leave the feast until the time came for the bedding ceremony. That was still a good twenty or thirty dishes off, he judged.\n\nKing Joffrey and his queen met the pie below the dais. As Joff drew his sword, Margaery laid a hand on his arm to restrain him. \"Widow's Wail was not meant for slicing pies.\"\n\n\"True.\" Joffrey lifted his voice. \"Ser Ilyn, your sword!\"\n\nFrom the shadows at the back of the hall, Ser Ilyn Payne appeared. The specter at the feast, thought Tyrion as he watched the King's Justice stride forward, gaunt and grim. He had been too young to have known Ser Ilyn before he'd lost his tongue. He would have been a different man in those days, but now the silence is as much apart of him as those hollow eyes, that rusty chainmail shirt, and the greatsword on his back."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ser Ilyn bowed before the king and queen, reached back over his shoulder, and drew forth six feet of ornate silver bright with runes."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He knelt to offer the huge blade to Joffrey, hilt first; points of red fire winked from ruby eyes on the pommel, a chunk of dragonglass carved in the shape of a grinning skull.\n\nSansa stirred in her seat. \"What sword is that?\"\n\nTyrion's eyes still stung from the wine. He blinked and looked again. Ser Ilyn's greatsword was as long and wide as Ice, but it was too silvery-bright; Valyrian steel had a darkness to it, a smokiness in its soul. Sansa clutched his arm. \"What has Ser Ilyn done with my father's sword?\"\n\nI should have sent Ice back to Robb Stark, Tyrion thought. He glanced at his father, but Lord Tywin was watching the king.\n\nJoffrey and Margaery joined hands to lift the greatsword and swung it down together in a silvery arc. When the piecrust broke, the doves burst forth in a swirl of white feathers, scattering in every direction, flapping for the windows and the rafters. A roar of delight went up from the benches, and the fiddlers and pipers in the gallery began to play a sprightly tune. Joff took his bride in his arms, and whirled her around merrily.\n\nA serving man placed a slice of hot pigeon pie in front of Tyrion and covered it with a spoon of lemon cream. The pigeons were well and truly cooked in this pie, but he found them no more appetizing than the white ones fluttering about the hall. Sansa was not eating either. \"You're deathly pale, my lady,\" Tyrion said. \"You need a breath of cool air, and I need afresh doublet.\" He stood and offered her his hand. \"Come.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But before they could make their retreat, Joffrey was back. \"Uncle, where are you going? You're my cupbearer, remember?\"\n\n\"I need to change into fresh garb, Your Grace. May I have your leave?\"\n\n\"No. I like the look of you this way. Serve me my wine.\"\n\nThe king's chalice was on the table where he'd left it. Tyrion had to climb back onto his chair to reach it. Joff yanked it from his hands and drank long and deep, his throat working as the wine ran purple down his chin. \"My lord,\" Margaery said, \"we should return to our places. Lord Buckler wants to toast us.\"\n\n\"My uncle hasn't eaten his pigeon pie.\" Holding the chalice one-handed, Joff jammed his other into Tyrion's pie. \"It's ill luck not to eat the pie,\" he scolded as he filled his mouth with hot spiced pigeon. \"See, it's good.\" Spitting out flakes of crust, he coughed and helped himself to another fistful. \"Dry, though. Needs washing down.\" Joff took a swallow of wine and coughed again, more violently. \"I want to see, kof, see you ride that, kof kof, pig, Uncle. I want...\" His words broke up in a fit of coughing.\n\nMargaery looked at him with concern. \"Your Grace?\"\n\n\"It's, kof, the pie, noth-kof, pie.\" Joff took another drink, or tried to, but all the wine came spewing back out when another spate of coughing doubled him over. His face was turning red. \"I, kof, I can't, kof kof kof kof...\" The chalice slipped from his hand and dark red wine went running across the dais."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He's choking,\" Queen Margaery gasped.\n\nHer grandmother moved to her side. \"Help the poorboy!\" the Queen of Thorns screeched, in a voice ten times her size. \"Dolts! Will you all stand about gaping? Help your king!\"\n\nSer Garlan shoved Tyrion aside and began to pound Joffrey on the back. Ser Osmund Kettleblack ripped open the king's collar. A fearful high thin sound emerged from the boy's throat, the sound of a man trying to suck a river through a reed; then it stopped, and that was more terrible still. \"Turn him over!\" Mace Tyrell bellowed at everyone and no one. \"Turn him over, shake him by his heels!\" A different voice was calling, \"Water, give him some water!\" The High Septon began to pray loudly. Grand Maester Pycelle shouted for someone to help him back to his chambers, to fetch his potions. Joffrey began to claw at his throat, his nails tearing bloody gouges in the flesh. Beneath the skin, the muscles stood out hard as stone. Prince Tommen was screaming and crying.\n\nHe is going to die, Tyrion realized. He felt curiously calm, though pandemonium raged all about him. They were pounding Joff on the back again, but his face was only growing darker. Dogs were barking, children were wailing, men were shouting useless advice at each other. Half the wedding guests were on their feet, some shoving at each other fora better view, others rushing for the doors in their haste to getaway.\n\nSer Meryn pried the king's mouth open to jam a spoon down his throat. Ashe did, the boy's eyes met Tyrion's. He has Jaime's eyes. Only he had never seen Jaime look so scared. The boy's only thirteen. Joffrey was making a dry clacking noise, trying to speak. His eyes bulged white with terror, and he lifted a hand... reaching for his uncle, or pointing... Is he begging my forgiveness, or does he think I can save him? \"Noooo,\" Cersei wailed, \"Father help him, someone help him, my son, my son...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion found himself thinking of Robb Stark. My own wedding is looking much better in hindsight. He looked to see how Sansa was taking this, but there was so much confusion in the hall that he could not find her. But his eyes fell on the wedding chalice, forgotten on the floor. He went and scooped it up. There was still a half-inch of deep purple wine in the bottom of it. Tyrion considered it a moment, then poured it on the floor.\n\nMargaery Tyrell was weeping in her grandmother's arms as the old lady said, \"Be brave, be brave.\" Most of the musicians had fled, but one last flutist in the gallery was blowing a dirge. In the rear of the throne room scuffling had broken out around the doors, and the guests were trampling on each other. Ser Addam's gold cloaks moved into restore order. Guests were rushing headlong out into the night, some weeping, some stumbling and retching, others white with fear. It occurred to Tyrion belatedly that it might be wise to leave himself.\n\nWhen he heard Cersei's scream, he knew that it was over.\n\nI should leave. Now. Instead he waddled toward her.\n\nHis sister satin a puddle of wine, cradling her son's body. Her gown was torn and stained, her face white as chalk. A thin black dog crept up beside her, sniffing at Joffrey's corpse. \"The boy is gone, Cersei,\" Lord Tywin said. He put his gloved hand on his daughter's shoulder as one of his guardsmen shooed away the dog. \"Unhand him now. Let him go.\" She did not hear. It took two Kingsguard to pry loose her fingers, so the body of King Joffrey Baratheon could slide limp and lifeless to the floor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The High Septon knelt beside him. \"Father Above, judge our good King Joffrey justly,\" he intoned, beginning the prayer for the dead. Margaery Tyrell began to sob, and Tyrion heard her mother Lady Alerie saying, \"He choked, sweetling. He choked on the pie. It was naught to do with you. He choked. We all saw.\"\n\n\"He did not choke.\" Cersei's voice was sharp as Ser Ilyn's sword. \"My son was poisoned.\" She looked to the white knights standing helplessly around her. \"Kingsguard, do your duty.\"\n\n\"My lady?\" said Ser Loras Tyrell, uncertain.\n\n\"Arrest my brother,\" she commanded him. \"He did this, the dwarf. Him and his little wife. They killed my son. Your king. Take them! Take them both!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SANSA\n\nFar across the city, a bell began to toll.\n\nSansa felt as though she were in a dream. \"Joffrey is dead,\" she told the trees, to see if that would wake her.\n\nHe had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing. Lady Tanda had been fleeing as well. \"You have a good heart, my lady,\" she said to Sansa. \"Not every maid would weep so fora man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf.\"\n\nA good heart. I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy?\n\nShe found her clothes where she had hidden them, the night before last. With no maids to help her, it took her longer than it should have to undo the laces of her gown. Her hands were strangely clumsy, though she was not as frightened as she ought to have been. \"The gods are cruel to take him so young and handsome, at his own wedding feast,\" Lady Tanda had said to her.\n\nThe gods are just, thought Sansa. Robb had died at a wedding feast as well. It was Robb she wept for. Him and Margaery. Poor Margaery, twice wed and twice widowed. Sansa slid her arm from a sleeve, pushed down the gown, and wriggled out of it. She balled it up and shoved it into the bole of an oak, shook out the clothing she had hidden there. Dress warmly, Ser Dontos had told her, and dress dark. She had no blacks, so she chose a dress of thick brown wool. The bodice was decorated with freshwater pearls, though. The cloak will cover them. The cloak was a deep green, with a large hood. She slipped the dress over her head, and donned the cloak, though she left the hood down for the moment. There were shoes as well, simple and sturdy, with flat heels and square toes. The gods heard my prayer, she thought. She felt so numb and dreamy. My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Her hands moved stiffly, awkwardly, as if they had never letdown her hair before. Fora moment she wished Shae was there, to help her with the net."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "When she pulled it free, her long auburn hair cascaded down her back and across her shoulders."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The web of spun silver hung from her fingers, the fine metal glimmering softly, the stones black in the moonlight. Black amethysts from Asshai. One of them was missing. Sansa lifted the net fora closer look. There was a dark smudge in the silver socket where the stone had fallen out.\n\nA sudden terror filled her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and for an instant she held her breath. Why am I so scared, it's only an amethyst, a black amethyst from Asshai, no more than that. It must have been loose in the setting, that's all. It was loose and it fell out, and now it's lying somewhere in the throne room, or in the yard, unless...\n\nSer Dontos had said the hairnet was magic, that it would take her home. He told her she must wear it tonight at Joffrey's wedding feast. The silver wire stretched tight across her knuckles. Her thumb rubbed back and forth against the hole where the stone had been. She tried to stop, but her fingers were not her own. Her thumb was drawn to the hole as the tongue is drawn to a missing tooth. What kind of magic? The king was dead, the cruel king who had been her gallant prince a thousand years ago. If Dontos had lied about the hairnet, had he lied about the rest as well? What if he never comes? What if there is no ship, no boat on the river, no escape? What would happen to her then?\n\nShe heard a faint rustle of leaves, and stuffed the silver hairnet down deep in the pocket of her cloak. \"Who's there?\" she cried. \"Who is it?\" The godswood was dim and dark, and the bells were ringing Joff into his grave."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Me.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He staggered out from under the trees, reeling drunk. He caught her arm to steady himself. \"Sweet Jonquil, I've come. Your Florian has come, don't be afraid.\"\n\nSansa pulled away from his touch. \"You said I must wear the hairnet. The silver net with... what sort of stones are those?\"\n\n\"Amethysts. Black amethysts from Asshai, my lady.\"\n\n\"They're no amethysts. Are they? Are they? You lied.\"\n\n\"Black amethysts,\" he swore. \"There was magic in them.\"\n\n\"There was murder in them!\"\n\n\"Softly, my lady, softly. No murder. He choked on his pigeon pie.\" Dontos chortled. \"Oh, tasty tasty pie. Silver and stones, that's all it was, silver and stone and magic.\"\n\nThe bells were tolling, and the wind was making a noise like he had made as he tried to suck a breath of air. \"You poisoned him. You did. You took a stone from my hair...\"\n\n\"Hush, you'll be the death of us. I did nothing. Come, we must away, they'll search for you. Your husband's been arrested.\"\n\n\"Tyrion?\" she said, shocked.\n\n\"Do you have another husband? The Imp, the dwarf uncle, she thinks he did it.\" He grabbed her hand and pulled at her. \"This way, we must away, quickly now, have no fear.\"\n\nSansa followed unresisting. I could never abide the weeping of women, Joff once said, but his mother was the only woman weeping now. In Old Nan's stories the grumkins crafted magic things that could make a wish come true. Did I wish him dead? she wondered, before she remembered that she was too old to believe in grumkins. \"Tyrion poisoned him?\" Her dwarf husband had hated his nephew, she knew. Could he truly have killed him? Did he know about my hairnet, about the black amethysts? He brought Joff wine. How could you make someone choke by putting an amethyst in their wine? If Tyrion did it, they will think I was part of it as well, she realized with a start of fear. How not? They were man and wife, and Joff had killed her father and mocked her with her brother's death. One flesh, one heart, one soul."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Be quiet now, my sweetling,\" said Dontos. \"Outside the godswood, we must make no sound. Pull up your hood and hide your face.\" Sansa nodded, and did as he said.\n\nHe was so drunk that sometimes Sansa had to lend him her arm to keep him from falling. The bells were ringing out across the city, more and more of them joining in. She kept her head down and stayed in the shadows, close behind Dontos. While descending the serpentine steps he stumbled to his knees and retched. My poor Florian, she thought, as he wiped his mouth with a floppy sleeve. Dress dark, he'd said, yet under his brown hooded cloak he was wearing his old surcoat; red and pink horizontal stripes beneath a black chief bearing three gold crowns, the arms of House Hollard. \"Why are you wearing your surcoat? Joff decreed it was death if you were caught dressed as a knight again, he... oh...\" Nothing Joff had decreed mattered any longer.\n\n\"I wanted to be a knight. For this, at least.\" Dontos lurched back to his feet and took her arm. \"Come. Be quiet now, no questions.\"\n\nThey continued down the serpentine and across a small sunken courtyard. Ser Dontos shoved open a heavy door and lit a taper. They were inside along gallery. Along the walls stood empty suits of armor, dark and dusty, their helms crested with rows of scales that continued down their backs. As they hurried past, the taper's light made the shadows of each scale stretch and twist. The hollow knights are turning into dragons, she thought.\n\nOne more stair took them to an oaken door banded with iron. \"Be strong now, my Jonquil, you are almost there.\" When Dontos lifted the bar and pulled open the door, Sansa felt a cold breeze on her face. She passed through twelve feet of wall, and then she was outside the castle, standing at the top of the cliff. Below was the river, above the sky, and one was as black as the other."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We must climb down,\" Ser Dontos said. \"At the bottom, a man is waiting to row us out to the ship.\"\n\n\"I'll fall.\" Bran had fallen, and he had loved to climb.\n\n\"No you won't. There's a sort of ladder, a secret ladder, carved into the stone. Here, you can feel it, my lady.\" He got down on his knees with her and made her lean over the edge of the cliff, groping with her fingers until she found the handhold cut into the face of the bluff. \"Almost as good as rungs.\"\n\nEven so, it was along way down. \"I can't.\"\n\n\"You must.\"\n\n\"Isn't there another way?\"\n\n\"This is the way. It won't be so hard fora strong young girl like you. Hold on tight and never look down and you'll beat the bottom in no time at all.\" His eyes were shiny. \"Your poor Florian is fat and old and drunk, I'm the one should be afraid. I used to falloff my horse, don't you remember? That was how we began. I was drunk and fell off my horse and Joffrey wanted my fool head, but you saved me. You saved me, sweetling.\"\n\nHe's weeping, she realized. \"And now you have saved me.\"\n\n\"Only if you go. If not, I have killed us both.\"\n\nIt was him, she thought. He killed Joffrey. She had to go, for him as much as for herself. \"You go first, ser.\" If he did fall, she did not want him falling down on her head and knocking both of them off the cliff.\n\n\"As you wish, my lady.\" He gave her a sloppy kiss and swung his legs clumsily over the precipice, kicking about until he found a foothold. \"Let me get down a bit, and come after. You will come now? You must swear it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll come,\" she promised.\n\nSer Dontos disappeared. She could hear him huffing and puffing as he began the descent. Sansa listened to the tolling of the bell, counting each ring. At ten, gingerly, she eased herself over the edge of the cliff, poking with her toes until they found a place to rest. The castle walls loomed large above her, and fora moment she wanted nothing so much as to pull herself up and run back to her warm rooms in the Kitchen Keep. Be brave, she told herself. Be brave, like a lady in a song.\n\nSansa dared not look down. She kept her eyes on the face of the cliff, making certain of each step before reaching for the next. The stone was rough and cold. Sometimes she could feel her fingers slipping, and the handholds were not as evenly spaced as she would have liked. The bells would not stop ringing. Before she was halfway down her arms were trembling and she knew that she was going to fall. One more step, she told herself, one more step. She had to keep moving. If she stopped, she would never start again, and dawn would find her still clinging to the cliff, frozen in fear. One more step, and one more step.\n\nThe ground took her by surprise. She stumbled and fell, her heart pounding. When she rolled onto her back and stared up at from where she had come, her head swam dizzily and her fingers clawed at the dirt. I did it. I did it, I didn't fall, I made the climb and now I'm going home.\n\nSer Dontos pulled her back onto her feet. \"This way. Quiet now, quiet, quiet.\" He stayed close to the shadows that lay black and thick beneath the cliffs. Thankfully they did not have to go far. Fifty yards downriver, a man satin a small skiff, half-hidden by the remains of a great galley that had gone aground there and burned. Dontos limped up to him, puffing. \"Oswell?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No names,\" the man said. \"In the boat.\" He sat hunched over his oars, an old man, tall and gangling, with long white hair and a great hooked nose, with eyes shaded by a cowl. \"Get in, be quick about it,\" he muttered. \"We need to be away.\"\n\nWhen both of them were safe aboard, the cowled man slid the blades into the water and put his back into the oars, rowing them out toward the channel. Behind them the bells were still tolling the boy king's death. They had the dark river all to themselves.\n\nWith slow, steady, rhythmic strokes, they threaded their way downstream, sliding above the sunken galleys, past broken masts, burned hulls, and torn sails. The oarlocks had been muffled, so they moved almost soundlessly. A mist was rising over the water. Sansa saw the embattled ramparts of one of the Imp's winch towers looming above, but the great chain had been lowered, and they rowed unimpeded past the spot where a thousand men had burned. The shore fell away, the fog grew thicker, the sound of the bells began to fade. Finally even the lights were gone, lost somewhere behind them. They were out in Blackwater Bay, and the world shrank to dark water, blowing mist, and their silent companion stooped over the oars. \"How far must we go?\" she asked.\n\n\"No talk.\" The oarsman was old, but stronger than he looked, and his voice was fierce. There was something oddly familiar about his face, though Sansa could not say what it was.\n\n\"Not far.\" Ser Dontos took her hand in his own and rubbed it gently. \"Your friend is near, waiting for you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No talk!\" the oarsman growled again. \"Sound carries over water, Ser Fool.\"\n\nAbashed, Sansa bit her lip and huddled down in silence. The rest was rowing, rowing, rowing.\n\nThe eastern sky was vague with the first hint of dawn when Sansa finally saw a ghostly shape in the darkness ahead; a trading galley, her sails furled, moving slowly on a single bank of oars. As they drew closer, she saw the ship's figurehead, a merman with a golden crown blowing on a great seashell horn. She heard a voice cry out, and the galley swung slowly about.\n\nAs they came alongside, the galley dropped a rope ladder over the rail. The rower shipped the oars and helped Sansa to her feet. \"Up now. Goon, girl, I got you.\" Sansa thanked him for his kindness, but received no answer but a grunt. It was much easier going up the rope ladder than it had been coming down the cliff. The oarsman Oswell followed close behind her, while Ser Dontos remained in the boat.\n\nTwo sailors were waiting by the rail to help her onto the deck. Sansa was trembling. \"She's cold,\" she heard someone say. He took off his cloak and put it around her shoulders. \"There, is that better, my lady? Rest easy, the worst is past and done.\"\n\nShe knew the voice. But he's in the Vale, she thought. Ser Lothor Brune stood beside him with a torch.\n\n\"Lord Petyr,\" Dontos called from the boat. \"I must needs row back, before they think to look for me.\"\n\nPetyr Baelish put a hand on the rail. \"But first you'll want your payment. Ten thousand dragons, was it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ten thousand.\" Dontos rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. \"As you promised, my lord.\"\n\n\"Ser Lothor, the reward.\"\n\nLothor Brune dipped his torch. Three men stepped to the gunwale, raised crossbows, fired. One bolt took Dontos in the chest as he looked up, punching through the left crown on his surcoat. The others ripped into throat and belly. It happened so quickly neither Dontos nor Sansa had time to cry out. When it was done, Lothor Brune tossed the torch down on top of the corpse. The little boat was blazing fiercely as the galley moved away.\n\n\"You killed him.\" Clutching the rail, Sansa turned away and retched. Had she escaped the Lannisters to tumble into worse?\n\n\"My lady,\" Littlefinger murmured, \"your grief is wasted on such a man as that. He was a sot, and no man's friend.\"\n\n\"But he saved me.\"\n\n\"He sold you fora promise often thousand dragons. Your disappearance will make them suspect you in Joffrey's death. The gold cloaks will hunt, and the eunuch will jingle his purse. Dontos... well, you heard him. He sold you for gold, and when he'd drunk it up he would have sold you again. A bag of dragons buys a man's silence fora while, but a well-placed quarrel buys it forever.\" He smiled sadly. \"All he did he did at my behest. I dared not befriend you openly. When I heard how you saved his life at Joff's tourney, I knew he would be the perfect catspaw.\"\n\nSansa felt sick. \"He said he was my Florian.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you perchance recall what I said to you that day your father sat the Iron Throne?\"\n\nThe moment came back to her vividly. \"You told me that life was not a song. That I would learn that one day, to my sorrow.\" She felt tears in her eyes, but whether she wept for Ser Dontos Hollard, for Joff, for Tyrion, or for herself, Sansa could not say. \"Is it all lies, forever and ever, everyone and everything?\"\n\n\"Almost everyone. Save you and I, of course.\" He smiled. \"Come to the godswood tonight if you want to go home.\"\n\n\"The note... it was you?\"\n\n\"It had to be the godswood. No other place in the Red Keep is safe from the eunuch's little birds... or little rats, as I call them. There are trees in the godswood instead of walls. Sky above instead of ceiling. Roots and dirt and rock in place of floor. The rats have no place to scurry. Rats need to hide, lest men skewer them with swords.\" Lord Petyr took her arm. \"Let me show you to your cabin. You have had along and trying day, I know. You must be weary.\"\n\nAlready the little boat was no more than a swirl of smoke and fire behind them, almost lost in the immensity of the dawn sea. There was no going back; her only road was forward. \"Very weary,\" she admitted.\n\nAshe led her below, he said, \"Tell me of the feast. The queen took such pains. The singers, the jugglers, the dancing bear... did your little lord husband enjoy my jousting dwarfs?\"\n\n\"Yours?\"\n\n\"I had to send to Braavos for them and hide them away in a brothel until the wedding. The expense was exceeded only by the bother. It is surprisingly difficult to hide a dwarf, and Joffrey... you can lead a king to water, but with Joff one had to splash it about before he realized he could drink it. When I told him about my little surprise, His Grace said, \"Why would I want some ugly dwarfs at my feast? I hate dwarfs.\" I had to take him by the shoulder and whisper, \"Not as much as your uncle will.\"\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The deck rocked beneath her feet, and Sansa felt as if the world itself had grown unsteady. \"They think Tyrion poisoned Joffrey. Ser Dontos said they seized him.\"\n\nLittlefinger smiled. \"Widowhood will become you, Sansa.\"\n\nThe thought made her tummy flutter. She might never need to share abed with Tyrion again. That was what she'd wanted... wasn't it?\n\nThe cabin was low and cramped, but a featherbed had been laid upon the narrow sleeping shelf to make it more comfortable, and thick furs piled atop it. \"It will be snug, I know, but you shouldn't be too uncomfortable.\" Littlefinger pointed out a cedar chest under the porthole. \"You'll find fresh garb within. Dresses, smallclothes, warm stockings, a cloak. Wool and linen only, I fear. Unworthy of a maid so beautiful, but they'll serve to keep you dry and clean until we can find you something finer.\"\n\nHe had this all prepared for me. \"My lord, I... I do not understand... Joffrey gave you Harrenhal, made you Lord Paramount of the Trident... why...\"\n\n\"Why should I wish him dead?\" Littlefinger shrugged. \"I had no motive. Besides, I am a thousand leagues away in the Vale. Always keep your foes confused. If they are never certain who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are like to do next. Sometimes the best way to baffle them is to make moves that have no purpose, or even seem to work against you. Remember that, Sansa, when you come to play the game.\"\n\n\"What... what game?\"\n\n\"The only game. The game of thrones.\" He brushed back a strand of her hair. \"You are old enough to know that your mother and I were more than friends. There was a time when Cat was all I wanted in this world. I dared to dream of the life we might make and the children she would give me... but she was a daughter of Riverrun, and Hoster Tully. Family, Duty, Honor, Sansa. Family, Duty, Honor meant I could never have her hand. But she gave me something finer, a gift a woman can give but once. How could I turn my back upon her daughter? Ina better world, you might have been mine, not Eddard Stark's. My loyal loving daughter... Put Joffrey from your mind, sweetling. Dontos, Tyrion, all of them. They will never trouble you again. You are safe now, that's all that matters. You are safe with me, and sailing home.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nThe king is dead, they told him, never knowing that Joffrey was his son as well as his sovereign.\n\n\"The Imp opened his throat with a dagger,\" a costermonger declared at the roadside inn where they spent the night. \"He drank his blood from a big gold chalice.\" The man did not recognize the bearded one-handed knight with the big baton his shield, no more than any of them, so he said things he might otherwise have swallowed, had he known who was listening.\n\n\"It was poison did the deed,\" the innkeep insisted. \"The boy's face turned black as a plum.\"\n\n\"May the Father judge him justly,\" murmured a septon.\n\n\"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him,\" swore an archer in Lord Rowan's livery. \"Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws.\"\n\nJaime sat silent through it all, letting the words wash over him, a horn of ale forgotten in his one good hand. Joffrey. My blood. My firstborn. My son. He tried to bring the boy's face to mind, but his features kept turning into Cersei's. She will be in mourning, her hair in disarray and her eyes red from crying, her mouth trembling as she tries to speak. She will cry again when she sees me, though she'll fight the tears. His sister seldom wept but when she was with him. She could not stand for others to think her weak. Only to her twin did she show her wounds. She will look tome for comfort and revenge.\n\nThey rode hard the next day, at Jaime's insistence. His son was dead, and his sister needed him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he saw the city before him, its watchtowers dark against the gathering dusk, Jaime Lannister cantered up to Steelshanks Walton, behind Nage with the peace banner.\n\n\"What's that awful stink?\" the northman complained.\n\nDeath, thought Jaime, but he said, \"Smoke, sweat, and shit. King's Landing, in short. If you have a good nose you can smell the treachery too. You've never smelled a city before?\"\n\n\"I smelled White Harbor. It never stank like this.\"\n\n\"White Harbor is to King's Landing as my brother Tyrion is to Ser Gregor Clegane.\"\n\nNage led them up a low hill, the seven-tailed peace banner lifting and turning in the wind, the polished seven-pointed star shining bright upon its staff. He would see Cersei soon, and Tyrion, and their father. Could my brother truly have killed the boy? Jaime found that hard to believe.\n\nHe was curiously calm. Men were supposed to go mad with grief when their children died, he knew. They were supposed to tear their hair out by the roots, to curse the gods and swear red vengeance. So why was it that he felt so little? The boy lived and died believing Robert Baratheon his sire.\n\nJaime had seen him born, that was true, though more for Cersei than the child. But he had never held him. \"How would it look?\" his sister warned him when the women finally left them. \"Bad enough Joff looks like you without you mooning over him.\" Jaime yielded with hardly a fight. The boy had been a squalling pink thing who demanded too much of Cersei's time, Cersei's love, and Cersei's breasts. Robert was welcome to him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And now he's dead. He pictured Joff lying still and cold with a face black from poison, and still felt nothing. Perhaps he was the monster they claimed. If the Father Above came down to offer him back his son or his hand, Jaime knew which he would choose. He had a second son, after all, and seed enough for many more. If Cersei wants another child I'll give her one... and this time I'll hold him, and the Others take those who do not like it. Robert was rotting in his grave, and Jaime was sick of lies.\n\nHe turned abruptly and galloped back to find Brienne. Gods know why I bother. She is the least companionable creature I've ever had the misfortune to meet. The wench rode well behind and a few feet off to the side, as if to proclaim that she was no part of them. They had found men's garb for her along the way; a tunic here, a mantle there, a pair of breeches and a cowled cloak, even an old iron breastplate. She looked more comfortable dressed as a man, but nothing would ever make her look handsome. Nor happy. Once out of Harrenhal, her usual pighead stubbornness had soon reasserted itself. \"I want my arms and armor back,\" she had insisted. \"Oh, by all means, let us have you back in steel,\" Jaime replied. \"A helm, especially. We'll all be happier if you keep your mouth shut and your visor down.\"\n\nThat much Brienne could do, but her sullen silences soon began to fray his good humor almost as much as Qyburn's endless attempts to be ingratiating. I never thought I would find myself missing the company of Cleos Frey, gods help me. He was beginning to wish he had left her for the bear after all."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"King's Landing,\" Jaime announced when he found her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Our journey's done, my lady. You've kept your vow, and delivered me to King's Landing. All but a few fingers and a hand.\"\n\nBrienne's eyes were listless. \"That was only half my vow. I told Lady Catelyn I would bring her back her daughters. Or Sansa, at the least. And now...\"\n\nShe never met Robb Stark, yet her grief for him runs deeper than mine for Joff. Or perhaps it was Lady Catelyn she mourned. They had been at Brindlewood when they had that news, from a red-faced tub of a knight named Ser Bertram Beesbury, whose arms were three beehives on afield striped black and yellow. A troop of Lord Piper's men had passed through Brindlewood only yesterday, Beesbury told them, rushing to King's Landing beneath a peace banner of their own. \"With the Young Wolf dead Piper saw no point to fighting on. His son is captive at the Twins.\" Brienne gaped like a cow about to choke on her cud, so it fell to Jaime to draw out the tale of the Red Wedding.\n\n\"Every great lord has unruly bannermen who envy him his place,\" he told her afterward. \"My father had the Reynes and Tarbecks, the Tyrells have the Florents, Hoster Tully had Walder Frey. Only strength keeps such men in their place. The moment they smell weakness... during the Age of Heroes, the Boltons used to flay the Starks and wear their skins as cloaks.\" She looked so miserable that Jaime almost found himself wanting to comfort her.\n\nSince that day Brienne had been like one half-dead. Even calling her'wench\" failed to provoke any response. The strength is gone from her. The woman had dropped a rock on Robin Ryger, battled a bear with a tourney sword, bitten off Vargo Hoat's ear, and fought Jaime to exhaustion... but she was broken now, done. \"I'll speak to my father about returning you to Tarth, if it please you,\" he told her. \"Or if you would rather stay, I could perchance find someplace for you at court.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As a lady companion to the queen?\" she said dully.\n\nJaime remembered the sight of her in that pink satin gown, and tried not to imagine what his sister might say of such a companion. \"Perhaps a post with the City Watch...\"\n\n\"I will not serve with oathbreakers and murderers.\"\n\nThen why did you ever bother putting on a sword? he might have said, but he bit back the words. \"As you will, Brienne.\" One-handed, he wheeled his horse about and left her.\n\nThe Gate of the Gods was open when they reached it, but two dozen wayns were lined up along the roadside, loaded with casks of cider, barrels of apples, bales of hay, and some of the biggest pumpkins Jaime had ever seen. Almost every wagon had its guards; men-at-arms wearing the badges of small lordlings, sellswords in mail and boiled leather, sometimes only a pink-cheeked farmer's son clutching a homemade spear with afire-hardened point. Jaime smiled at them all as he trotted past. At the gate, the gold cloaks were collecting coin from each driver before waving the wagons through. \"What's this?\" Steelshanks demanded.\n\n\"They got to pay for the right to sell inside the city. By command of the King's Hand and the master of coin.\"\n\nJaime looked at the long line of wayns, carts, and laden horses. \"Yet they still lineup to pay?\"\n\n\"There's good coin to be made here now that the fighting's done,\" the miller in the nearest wagon told them cheerfully. \"It's the Lannisters hold the city now, old Lord Tywin of the Rock. They say he shits silver.\"\n\n\"Gold,\" Jaime corrected dryly. \"And Littlefinger mints the stuff from goldenrod, I vow.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The Imp is master of coin now,\" said the captain of the gate."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Or was, till they arrested him for murdering the king.\" The man looked the northmen over suspiciously. \"Who are you lot?\"\n\n\"Lord Bolton's men, come to seethe King's Hand.\"\n\nThe captain glanced at Nage with his peace banner. \"Come to bend the knee, you mean. You're not the first. Go straight up to the castle, and see you make no trouble.\" He waved them through and turned back to the wagons.\n\nIf King's Landing mourned its dead boy king, Jaime would never have known it. On the Street of Seeds a begging brother in threadbare robes was praying loudly for Joffrey's soul, but the passersby paid him no more heed than they would a loose shutter banging in the wind. Elsewhere milled the usual crowds; gold cloaks in their blackmail, bakers' boys selling tarts and breads and hot pies, whores leaning out of windows with their bodices half unlaced, gutters redolent of nightsoil. They passed five men trying to drag a dead horse from the mouth of an alley, and elsewhere a juggler spinning knives through the air to delight a throng of drunken Tyrell soldiers and small children.\n\nRiding down familiar streets with two hundred northmen, a chainless maester, and an ugly freak of a woman at his side, Jaime found he scarcely drew a second look. He did not know whether he ought to be amused or annoyed. \"They do not know me,\" he said to Steelshanks as they rode through Cobbler's Square.\n\n\"Your face is changed, and your arms as well,\" the northman said, \"and they have anew Kingslayer now.\"\n\nThe gates to the Red Keep were open, but a dozen gold cloaks armed with pikes barred the way. They lowered their points as Steelshanks came trotting up, but Jaime recognized the white knight commanding them. \"Ser Meryn.\""
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Meryn Trant's droopy eyes went wide. \"Ser Jaime?\"\n\n\"How nice to be remembered. Move these men aside.\"\n\nIt had been along time since anyone had leapt to obey him quite so fast. Jaime had forgotten how well he liked it.\n\nThey found two more Kingsguard in the outer ward; two who had not worn white cloaks when Jaime last served here. How like Cersei to name me Lord Commander and then choose my colleagues without consulting me. \"Someone has given me two new brothers, I see,\" he said as he dismounted.\n\n\"We have that honor, ser.\" The Knight of Flowers shone so fine and pure in his white scales and silk that Jaime felt a tattered and tawdry thing by contrast.\n\nJaime turned to Meryn Trant. \"Ser, you've been remiss in teaching our new brothers their duties.\"\n\n\"What duties?\" said Meryn Trant defensively.\n\n\"Keeping the king alive. How many monarchs have you lost since I left the city? Two, is it?\"\n\nThen Ser Balon saw the stump. \"Your hand...\"\n\nJaime made himself smile. \"I fight with my left now. It makes for more of a contest. Where will I find my lord father?\"\n\n\"In the solar with Lord Tyrell and Prince Oberyn.\"\n\nMace Tyrell and the Red Viper breaking bread together? Strange and stranger. \"Is the queen with them as well?\"\n\n\"No, my lord,\" Ser Balon answered. \"You'll find her in the sept, praying over King Joff-\"\n\n\"You!\"\n\nThe last of the northmen had dismounted, Jaime saw, and now Loras Tyrell had seen Brienne."
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"value": "\"Ser Loras.\" She stood stupidly, holding her bridle.\n\nLoras Tyrell strode toward her. \"Why?\" he said. \"You will tell me why. He treated you kindly, gave you a rainbow cloak. Why would you kill him?\"\n\n\"I never did. I would have died for him.\"\n\n\"You will.\" Ser Loras drew his longsword.\n\n\"It was not me.\"\n\n\"Emmon Cuy swore it was, with his dying breath.\"\n\n\"He was outside the tent, he never saw-\"\n\n\"There was no one in the tent but you and Lady Stark. Do you claim that old woman could cut through hardened steel?\"\n\n\"There was a shadow. I know how mad it sounds, but... I was helping Renly into his armor, and the candles blew out and there was blood everywhere. It was Stannis, Lady Catelyn said. His... his shadow. I had no part in it, on my honor...\"\n\n\"You have no honor. Draw your sword. I won't have it said that I slew you while your hand was empty.\"\n\nJaime stepped between them. \"Put the sword away, ser.\"\n\nSer Loras edged around him. \"Are you a craven as well as a killer, Brienne? Is that why you ran, with his blood on your hands? Draw your sword, woman!\"\n\n\"Best hope she doesn't.\" Jaime blocked his path again. \"Or it's like to be your corpse we carryout. The wench is as strong as Gregor Clegane, though not so pretty.\"\n\n\"This is no concern of yours.\" Ser Loras shoved him aside.\n\nJaime grabbed the boy with his good hand and yanked him around. \"I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, you arrogant pup. Your commander, so long as you wear that white cloak. Now sheathe your bloody sword, or I'll take it from you and shove it up someplace even Renly never found.\""
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"value": "The boy hesitated half a heartbeat, long enough for Ser Balon Swann to say, \"Do as the Lord Commander says, Loras.\" Some of the gold cloaks drew their steel then, and that made some Dreadfort men do the same. Splendid, thought Jaime, no sooner do I climb down off my horse than we have a bloodbath in the yard.\n\nSer Loras Tyrell slammed his sword back into its sheath.\n\n\"That wasn't so difficult, was it?\"\n\n\"I want her arrested.\" Ser Loras pointed. \"Lady Brienne, I charge you with the murder of Lord Renly Baratheon.\"\n\n\"For what it's worth,\" said Jaime, \"the wench does have honor. More than I have seen from you. And it may even be she's telling it true. I'll grant you, she's not what you'd call clever, but even my horse could come up with a better lie, if it was a lie she meant to tell. As you insist, however... Ser Balon, escort Lady Brienne to a tower cell and hold her thereunder guard. And find some suitable quarters for Steelshanks and his men, until such time as my father can see them.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\"\n\nBrienne's big blue eyes were full of hurt as Balon Swann and a dozen gold cloaks led her away. You ought to be blowing me kisses, wench, he wanted to tell her. Why must they misunderstand every bloody thing he did? Aerys. It all grows from Aerys. Jaime turned his back on the wench and strode across the yard.\n\nAnother knight in white armor was guarding the doors of the royal sept; a tall man with a black beard, broad shoulders, and a hooked nose. When he saw Jaime he gave a sour smile and said, \"And where do you think you're going?\""
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[
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"value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 64"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "The boy hesitated half a heartbeat, long enough for Ser Balon Swann to say, \"Do as the Lord Commander says, Loras.\" Some of the gold cloaks drew their steel then, and that made some Dreadfort men do the same. Splendid, thought Jaime, no sooner do I climb down off my horse than we have a bloodbath in the yard.\n\nSer Loras Tyrell slammed his sword back into its sheath.\n\n\"That wasn't so difficult, was it?\"\n\n\"I want her arrested.\" Ser Loras pointed. \"Lady Brienne, I charge you with the murder of Lord Renly Baratheon.\"\n\n\"For what it's worth,\" said Jaime, \"the wench does have honor. More than I have seen from you. And it may even be she's telling it true. I'll grant you, she's not what you'd call clever, but even my horse could come up with a better lie, if it was a lie she meant to tell. As you insist, however... Ser Balon, escort Lady Brienne to a tower cell and hold her thereunder guard. And find some suitable quarters for Steelshanks and his men, until such time as my father can see them.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\"\n\nBrienne's big blue eyes were full of hurt as Balon Swann and a dozen gold cloaks led her away. You ought to be blowing me kisses, wench, he wanted to tell her. Why must they misunderstand every bloody thing he did? Aerys. It all grows from Aerys. Jaime turned his back on the wench and strode across the yard.\n\nAnother knight in white armor was guarding the doors of the royal sept; a tall man with a black beard, broad shoulders, and a hooked nose. When he saw Jaime he gave a sour smile and said, \"And where do you think you're going?\""
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Into the sept.\" Jaime lifted his stump to point. \"That one right there. I mean to seethe queen.\"\n\n\"Her Grace is in mourning. And why would she be wanting to seethe likes of you?\"\n\nBecause I'm her lover, and the father of her murdered son, he wanted to say. \"Who in seven hells are you?\"\n\n\"A knight of the Kingsguard, and you'd best learn some respect, cripple, or I'll have that other hand and leave you to suck up your porridge of a morning.\"\n\n\"I am the queen's brother, ser.\"\n\nThe white knight thought that funny. \"Escaped, have you? And grown a bit as well, m'lord?\"\n\n\"Her other brother, dolt. And the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Now stand aside, or you'll wish you had.\"\n\nThe dolt took along look this time. \"Is it... Ser Jaime.\" He straightened. \"My pardons, milord. I did not know you. I have the honor to be Ser Osmund Kettleblack.\"\n\nWhere's the honor in that? \"I want sometime alone with my sister. See that no one else enters the sept, ser. If we're disturbed, I'll have your bloody head.\"\n\n\"Aye, ser. As you say.\" Ser Osmund opened the door.\n\nCersei was kneeling before the altar of the Mother. Joffrey's bier had been laid out beneath the Stranger, who led the newly dead to the other world. The smell of incense hung heavy in the air, and a hundred candles burned, sending up a hundred prayers. Joff's like to need everyone of them, too.\n\nHis sister looked over her shoulder. \"Who?\" she said, then, \"Jaime?\" She rose, her eyes brimming with tears. \"Is it truly you?\" She did not come to him, however. She has never come tome, he thought. She has always waited, letting me come to her. She gives, but I must ask. \"You should have come sooner,\" she murmured, when he took her in his arms. \"Why couldn't you have come sooner, to keep him safe? My boy...\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Our boy. \"I came as fast I could.\" He broke from the embrace, and stepped back apace. \"It's war out there, Sister.\"\n\n\"You look so thin. And your hair, your golden hair...\"\n\n\"The hair will grow back.\" Jaime lifted his stump. She needs to see. \"This won't.\"\n\nHer eyes went wide. \"The Starks...\"\n\n\"No. This was Vargo Hoat's work.\"\n\nThe name meant nothing to her. \"Who?\"\n\n\"The Goat of Harrenhal. Fora little while.\"\n\nCersei turned to gaze at Joffrey's bier. They had dressed the dead king in gilded armor, eerily similar to Jaime's own. The visor of the helm was closed, but the candles reflected softly off the gold, so the boy shimmered bright and brave in death. The candlelight woke fires in the rubies that decorated the bodice of Cersei's mourning dress as well. Her hair fell to her shoulders, undressed and unkempt. \"He killed him, Jaime. Just as he'd warned me. One day when I thought myself safe and happy he would turn my joy to ashes in my mouth, he said.\"\n\n\"Tyrion said that?\" Jaime had not wanted to believe it. Kinslaying was worse than kingslaying, in the eyes of gods and men. He knew the boy was mine. I loved Tyrion. I was good to him. Well, but for that onetime... but the Imp did not know the truth of that. Or did he? \"Why would he kill Joff?\"\n\n\"Fora whore.\" She clutched his good hand and held it tight in hers. \"He told me he was going to do it. Joff knew. Ashe was dying, he pointed at his murderer. At our twisted little monster of a brother.\" She kissed Jaime's fingers. \"You'll kill him for me, won't you? You'll avenge our son.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"value": "Jaime pulled away. \"He is still my brother.\" He shoved his stump at her face, in case she failed to see it. \"And I am in no fit state to be killing anyone.\"\n\n\"You have another hand, don't you? I am not asking you to best the Hound in battle. Tyrion is a dwarf, locked in a cell. The guards would stand aside for you.\"\n\nThe thought turned his stomach. \"I must know more of this. Of how it happened.\"\n\n\"You shall,\" Cersei promised. \"There's to be atrial. When you hear all he did, you'll want him dead as much as I do.\" She touched his face. \"I was lost without you, Jaime. I was afraid the Starks would send me your head. I could not have borne that.\" She kissed him. Alight kiss, the merest brush of her lips on his, but he could feel her tremble as he slid his arms around her. \"I am not whole without you.\"\n\nThere was no tenderness in the kiss he returned to her, only hunger. Her mouth opened for his tongue. \"No,\" she said weakly when his lips moved down her neck, \"not here. The septons...\"\n\n\"The Others can take the septons.\" He kissed her again, kissed her silent, kissed her until she moaned. Then he knocked the candles aside and lifted her up onto the Mother's altar, pushing up her skirts and the silken shift beneath. She pounded on his chest with feeble fists, murmuring about the risk, the danger, about their father, about the septons, about the wrath of gods. He never heard her. He undid his breeches and climbed up and pushed her bare white legs apart. One hand slid up her thigh and underneath her smallclothes. When he tore them away, he saw that her moon's blood was on her, but it made no difference."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hurry,\" she was whispering now, \"quickly, quickly, now, do it now, dome now. Jaime Jaime Jaime.\" Her hands helped guide him. \"Yes,\" Cersei said as he thrust, \"my brother, sweet brother, yes, like that, yes, I have you, you're home now, you're home now, you're home.\" She kissed his ear and stroked his short bristly hair. Jaime lost himself in her flesh. He could feel Cersei's heart beating in time with his own, and the wetness of blood and seed where they were joined.\n\nBut no sooner were they done than the queen said, \"Let me up. If we are discovered like this...\"\n\nReluctantly he rolled away and helped her off the altar. The pale marble was smeared with blood. Jaime wiped it clean with his sleeve, then bent to pickup the candles he had knocked over. Fortunately they had all gone out when they fell. If the sept had caught fire I might never have noticed.\n\n\"This was folly.\" Cersei pulled her gown straight. \"With Father in the castle... Jaime, we must be careful.\"\n\n\"I am sick of being careful. The Targaryens wed brother to sister, why shouldn't we do the same? Marry me, Cersei. Stand up before the realm and say it's me you want. We'll have our own wedding feast, and make another son in place of Joffrey.\"\n\nShe drew back. \"That's not funny.\"\n\n\"Do you hear me chuckling?\"\n\n\"Did you leave your wits at Riverrun?\" Her voice had an edge to it. \"Tommen's throne derives from Robert, you know that.\"\n\n\"He'll have Casterly Rock, isn't that enough? Let Father sit the throne. All I want is you.\" He made to touch her cheek. Old habits die hard, and it was his right arm he lifted."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Cersei recoiled from his stump."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Don't... don't talk like this. You're scaring me, Jaime. Don't be stupid. One wrong word and you'll cost us everything. What did they do to you?\"\n\n\"They cutoff my hand.\"\n\n\"No, it's more, you're changed.\" She backed off a step. \"We'll talk later. On the morrow. I have Sansa Stark's maids in a tower cell, I need to question them... you should go to Father.\"\n\n\"I crossed a thousand leagues to come to you, and lost the best part of me along the way. Don't tell me to leave.\"\n\n\"Leave me,\" she repeated, turning away.\n\nJaime laced up his breeches and did as she commanded. Weary as he was, he could not seek abed. By now his lord father knew that he was back in the city.\n\nThe Tower of the Hand was guarded by Lannister household guards, who knew him at once. \"The gods are good, to give you back to us, ser,\" one said, as he held the door.\n\n\"The gods had no part in it. Catelyn Stark gave me back. Her, and the Lord of the Dreadfort.\"\n\nHe climbed the stairs and pushed into the solar unannounced, to find his father sitting by the fire. Lord Tywin was alone, for which Jaime was thankful. He had no desire to flaunt his maimed hand for Mace Tyrell or the Red Viper just now, much less the two of them together.\n\n\"Jaime,\" Lord Tywin said, as if they'd last seen each other at breakfast. \"Lord Bolton led me to expect you earlier. I had hoped you'd be here for the wedding.\"\n\n\"I was delayed.\" Jaime closed the door softly. \"My sister outdid herself, I'm told. Seventy-seven courses and a regicide, never a wedding like it. How long have you known I was free?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The eunuch told me a few days after your escape. I sent men into the riverlands to look for you. Gregor Clegane, Samwell Spicer, the brothers Plumm. Varys putout the word as well, but quietly. We agreed that the fewer people who knew you were free, the fewer would be hunting you.\"\n\n\"Did Varys mention this?\" He moved closer to the fire, to let his father see.\n\nLord Tywin pushed himself out of his chair, breath hissing between his teeth. \"Who did this? If Lady Catelyn thinks-\"\n\n\"Lady Catelyn held a sword to my throat and made me swear to return her daughters. This was your goat's work. Vargo Hoat, the Lord of Harrenhal!\"\n\nLord Tywin looked away, disgusted. \"No longer. Ser Gregor's taken the castle. The sellswords deserted their erstwhile captain almost to a man, and some of Lady Whent's old people opened a postern gate. Clegane found Hoat sitting alone in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, half-mad with pain and fever from a wound that festered. His ear, I'm told.\"\n\nJaime had to laugh. Too sweet! His ear! He could scarcely wait to tell Brienne, though the wench wouldn't find it half so funny as he did. \"Is he dead yet?\"\n\n\"Soon. They have taken off his hands and feet, but Clegane seems amused by the way the Qohorik slobbers.\"\n\nJaime's smile curdled. \"What about his Brave Companions?\"\n\n\"The few who stayed at Harrenhal are dead. The others scattered. They'll make for ports, I'll warrant, or try and lose themselves in the woods.\" His eyes went back to Jaime's stump, and his mouth grew taut with fury. \"We'll have their heads. Everyone. Can you use a sword with your left hand?\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I can hardly dress myself in the morning. Jaime held up the hand in question for his father's inspection. \"Four fingers, a thumb, much like the other. Why shouldn't it work as well?\"\n\n\"Good.\" His father sat. \"That is good. I have a gift for you. For your return. After Varys told me...\"\n\n\"Unless it's anew hand, let it wait.\" Jaime took the chair across from him. \"How did Joffrey die?\"\n\n\"Poison. It was meant to appear as though he choked on a morsel of food, but I had his throat slit open and the maesters could find no obstruction.\"\n\n\"Cersei claims that Tyrion did it.\"\n\n\"Your brother served the king the poisoned wine, with a thousand people looking on.\"\n\n\"That was rather foolish of him.\"\n\n\"I have taken Tyrion's squire into custody. His wife's maids as well. We shall see if they have anything to tell us. Ser Addam's gold cloaks are searching for the Stark girl, and Varys has offered a reward. The king's justice will be done.\"\n\nThe king's justice. \"You would execute your own son?\"\n\n\"He stands accused of regicide and kinslaying. If he is innocent, he has nothing to fear. First we must needs consider the evidence for and against him.\"\n\nEvidence. In this city of liars, Jaime knew what sort of evidence would be found. \"Renly died strangely as well, when Stannis needed him to.\"\n\n\"Lord Renly was murdered by one of his own guards, some woman from Tarth.\"\n\n\"That woman from Tarth is the reason I'm here. I tossed her into a cell to appease Ser Loras, but I'll believe in Renly's ghost before I believe she did him any harm. But Stannis-\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It was poison that killed Joffrey, not sorcery.\" Lord Tywin glanced at Jaime's stump again. \"You cannot serve in the Kingsguard without a sword hand-\"\n\n\"I can,\" he interrupted. \"And I will. There's precedent. I'll look in the White Book and find it, if you like. Crippled or whole, a knight of the Kingsguard serves for life.\"\n\n\"Cersei ended that when she replaced Ser Barristan on grounds of age. A suitable gift to the Faith will persuade the High Septon to release you from your vows. Your sister was foolish to dismiss Selmy, admittedly, but now that she has opened the gates-\"\n\n\"-someone needs to close them again.\" Jaime stood. \"I am tired of having highborn women kicking pails of shit at me, Father. No one ever asked me if I wanted to be Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, but it seems I am. I have a duty-\"\n\n\"You do.\" Lord Tywin rose as well. \"A duty to House Lannister. You are the heir to Casterly Rock. That is where you should be. Tommen should accompany you, as your ward and squire. The Rock is where he'll learn to be a Lannister, and I want him away from his mother. I mean to find anew husband for Cersei. Oberyn Martell perhaps, once I convince Lord Tyrell that the match does not threaten Highgarden. And it is past time you were wed. The Tyrells are now insisting that Margaery be wed to Tommen, but if I were to offer you instead-\"\n\n\"NO!\" Jaime had heard all that he could stand. No, more than he could stand. He was sick of it, sick of lords and lies, sick of his father, his sister, sick of the whole bloody business. \"No. No. No. No. No. How many times must I say no before you'll hear it? Oberyn Martell? The man's infamous, and not just for poisoning his sword. He has more bastards than Robert, and beds with boys as well. And if you think for one misbegotten moment that I would wed Joffrey's widow...\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lord Tyrell swears the girl's still maiden.\"\n\n\"She can die a maiden as far as I'm concerned. I don't want her, and I don't want your Rock!\"\n\n\"You are my son-\"\n\n\"I am a knight of the Kingsguard. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard! And that's all I mean to be!\"\n\nFirelight gleamed golden in the stiff whiskers that framed Lord Tywin's face. A vein pulsed in his neck, but he did not speak. And did not speak. And did not speak.\n\nThe strained silence went on until it was more than Jaime could endure. \"Father...\" he began.\n\n\"You are not my son.\" Lord Tywin turned his face away. \"You say you are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and only that. Very well, ser. Go do your duty.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "DAVOS\n\nTheir voices rose like cinders, swirling up into purple evening sky. \"Lead us from the darkness, O my Lord. Fill our hearts with fire, so we may walk your shining path.\"\n\nThe nightfire burned against the gathering dark, a great bright beast whose shifting orange light threw shadows twenty feet tall across the yard. All along the walls of Dragonstone the army of gargoyles and grotesques seemed to stir and shift.\n\nDavos looked down from an arched window in the gallery above. He watched Melisandre lift her arms, as if to embrace the shivering flames. \"R'hllor,\" she sang in a voice loud and clear, \"you are the light in our eyes, the fire in our hearts, the heat in our loins. Yours is the sun that warms our days, yours the stars that guard us in the dark of night.\"\n\n\"Lord of Light, defend us. The night is dark and full of terrors.\" Queen Selyse led the responses, her pinched face full of fervor. King Stannis stood beside her, jaw clenched hard, the points of his red-gold crown shimmering whenever he moved his head. He is with them, but not of them, Davos thought. Princess Shireen was between them, the mottled grey patches on her face and neck almost black in the firelight.\n\n\"Lord of Light, protect us,\" the queen sang. The king did not respond with the others. He was staring into the flames. Davos wondered what he saw there. Another vision of the war to come? Or something closer to home?\n\n\"R'hllor who gave us breath, we thank you,\" sang Melisandre. \"R'hllor who gave us day, we thank you.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We thank you for the sun that warms us,\" Queen Selyse and the other worshipers replied. \"We thank you for the stars that watch us. We thank you for our hearths and for our torches, that keep the savage dark at bay.\" There were fewer voices saying the responses than there had been the night before, it seemed to Davos; fewer faces flushed with orange light about the fire. But would there be fewer still on the morrow... or more?\n\nThe voice of Ser Axell Florent rang loud as a trumpet. He stood barrel-chested and bandy-legged, the firelight washing his face like a monstrous orange tongue. Davos wondered if Ser Axell would thank him, after. The work they did tonight might well make him the King's Hand, as he dreamed.\n\nMelisandre cried, \"We thank you for Stannis, by your grace our king. We thank you for the pure white fire of his goodness, for the red sword of justice in his hand, for the love he bears his leal people. Guide him and defend him, R'hllor, and grant him strength to smite his foes.\"\n\n\"Grant him strength,\" answered Queen Selyse, Ser Axell, Devan, and the rest. \"Grant him courage. Grant him wisdom.\"\n\nWhen he was a boy, the septons had taught Davos to pray to the Crone for wisdom, to the Warrior for courage, to the Smith for strength. But it was the Mother he prayed to now, to keep his sweet son Devan safe from the red woman's demon god.\n\n\"Lord Davos? We'd best be about it.\" Ser Andrew touched his elbow gently. \"My lord?\"\n\nThe title still rang queer in his ears, yet Davos turned away from the window. \"Aye. It's time.\" Stannis, Melisandre, and the queen's men would beat their prayers an hour or more. The red priests lit their fires everyday at sunset, to thank R'hllor for the day just ending, and beg him to send his sun back on the morrow to banish the gathering darkness. A smuggler must know the tides and when to seize them. That was all he was at the end of the day; Davos the smuggler. His maimed hand rose to his throat for his luck, and found nothing. He snatched it down and walked a bit more quickly."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His companions kept pace, matching their strides to his own. The Bastard of Nightsong had a pox-ravaged face and an air of tattered chivalry; Ser Gerald Gower was broad, bluff, and blond; Ser Andrew Estermont stood ahead taller, with a spade-shaped beard and shaggy brown eye-brows. They were all good men in their own ways, Davos thought. And they will all be dead men soon, if this night's work goes badly.\n\n\"Fire is a living thing,\" the red woman told him, when he asked her to teach him how to seethe future in the flames. \"It is always moving, always changing... like a book whose letters dance and shift even as you try to read them. It takes years of training to seethe shapes beyond the flames, and more years still to learn to tell the shapes of what will be from what maybe or what was. Even then it comes hard, hard. You do not understand that, you men of the sunset lands.\" Davos asked her then how it was that Ser Axell had learned the trick of it so quickly, but to that she only smiled enigmatically and said, \"Any cat may stare into afire and see red mice at play.\"\n\nHe had not lied to his king's men, about that or any of it. \"The red woman may see what we intend,\" he warned them.\n\n\"We should start by killing her, then,\" urged Lewys the Fishwife. \"I know a place where we could waylay her, four of us with sharp swords...\"\n\n\"You'd doom us all,\" said Davos. \"Maester Cressen tried to kill her, and she knew at once. From her flames, I'd guess. It seems tome that she is very quick to sense any threat to her own person, but surely she cannot see everything. If we ignore her, perhaps we might escape her notice.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There is no honor in hiding and sneaking,\" objected Ser Triston of Tally Hill, who had been a Sunglass man before Lord Guncer went to Melisandre's fires.\n\n\"Is it so honorable to burn?\" Davos asked him. \"You saw Lord Sunglass die. Is that what you want? I don't need men of honor now. I need smugglers. Are you with me, or no?\"\n\nThey were. Gods be good, they were.\n\nMaester Pylos was leading Edric Storm through his sums when Davos pushed open the door. Ser Andrew was close behind him; the others had been left to guard the steps and cellar door. The maester broke off. \"That will be enough for now, Edric.\"\n\nThe boy was puzzled by the intrusion. \"Lord Davos, Ser Andrew. We were doing sums.\"\n\nSer Andrew smiled. \"I hated sums when I was your age, coz.\"\n\n\"I don't mind them so much. I like history best, though. It's full of tales.\"\n\n\"Edric,\" said Maester Pylos, \"run and get your cloak now. You're to go with Lord Davos.\"\n\n\"I am?\" Edric got to his feet. \"Where are we going?\" His mouth set stubbornly. \"I won't go pray to the Lord of Light. I am a Warrior's man, like my father.\"\n\n\"We know,\" Davos said. \"Come, lad, we must not dawdle.\"\n\nEdric donned a thick hooded cloak of undyed wool. Maester Pylos helped him fasten it, and pulled the hood up to shadow his face. \"Are you coming with us, Maester?\" the boy asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pylos touched the chain of many metals he wore about his neck. \"My place is hereon Dragonstone. Go with Lord Davos now, and do as he says. He is the King's Hand, remember. What did I tell you about the King's Hand?\"\n\n\"The Hand speaks with the king's voice.\"\n\nThe young maester smiled. \"That's so. Go now.\"\n\nDavos had been uncertain of Pylos. Perhaps he resented him for taking old Cressen's place. But now he could only admire the man's courage. This could mean his life as well.\n\nOutside the maester's chambers, Ser Gerald Gower waited by the steps. Edric Storm looked at him curiously. As they made their descent he asked, \"Where are we going, Lord Davos?\"\n\n\"To the water. A ship awaits you.\"\n\nThe boy stopped suddenly. \"A ship?\"\n\n\"One of Salladhor Saan's. Salla is a good friend of mine.\"\n\n\"I shall go with you, Cousin,\" Ser Andrew assured him. \"There's nothing to be frightened of.\"\n\n\"I am not frightened,\" Edric said indignantly. \"Only... is Shireen coming too?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Davos. \"The princess must remain herewith her father and mother.\"\n\n\"I have to see her then,\" Edric explained. \"To say my farewells. Otherwise she'll be sad.\"\n\nNot so sad as if she sees you burn. \"There is no time,\" Davos said. \"I will tell the princess that you were thinking of her. And you can write her, when you get to where you're going.\"\n\nThe boy frowned. \"Are you sure I must go? Why would my uncle send me from Dragonstone? Did I displease him? I never meant to.\" He got that stubborn look again. \"I want to see my uncle. I want to see King Stannis.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ser Andrew and Ser Gerald exchanged a look."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's no time for that, Cousin,\" Ser Andrew said.\n\n\"I want to see him!\" Edric insisted, louder.\n\n\"He does not want to see you.\" Davos had to say something, to get the boy moving. \"I am his Hand, I speak with his voice. Must I go to the king and tell him that you would not do as you were told? Do you know how angry that will make him? Have you ever seen your uncle angry?\" He pulled off his glove and showed the boy the four fingers that Stannis had shortened. \"I have.\"\n\nIt was all lies; there had been no anger in Stannis Baratheon when he cut the ends off his onion knight's fingers, only an iron sense of justice. But Edric Storm had not been born then, and could not know that. And the threat had the desired effect. \"He should not have done that,\" the boy said, but he let Davos take him by the hand and draw him down the steps.\n\nThe Bastard of Nightsong joined them at the cellar door. They walked quickly, across a shadowed yard and down some steps, under the stone tail of a frozen dragon. Lewys the Fishwife and Omer Blackberry waited at the postern gate, two guards bound and trussed at their feet. \"The boat?\" Davos asked them.\n\n\"It's there,\" Lewys said. \"Four oarsmen. The galley is anchored just past the point. Mad Prendos.\"\n\nDavos chuckled. A ship named after a madman. Yes, that's fitting. Salla had a streak of the pirate's black humor.\n\nHe went to one knee before Edric Storm. \"I must leave you now,\" he said. \"There's a boat waiting, to row you out to a galley. Then it's off across the sea. You are Robert's son so I know you will be brave, no matter what happens.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will. Only...\" The boy hesitated.\n\n\"Think of this as an adventure, my lord.\" Davos tried to sound hale and cheerful. \"It's the start of your life's great adventure. May the Warrior defend you.\"\n\n\"And may the Father judge you justly, Lord Davos.\" The boy went with his cousin Ser Andrew out the postern gate. The others followed, all but the Bastard of Nightsong. May the Father judge me justly, Davos thought ruefully. But it was the king's judgment that concerned him now.\n\n\"These two?\" asked Ser Rolland of the guards, when he had closed and barred the gate.\n\n\"Drag them into a cellar,\" said Davos. \"You can cut them free when Edric's safely underway.\"\n\nThe Bastard gave a curt nod. There were no more words to say; the easy part was done. Davos pulled his glove on, wishing he had not lost his luck. He had been a better man and a braver one with that bag of bones around his neck. He ran his shortened fingers through thinning brown hair, and wondered if it needed to be cut. He must look presentable when he stood before the king.\n\nDragonstone had never seemed so dark and fearsome. He walked slowly, his footsteps echoing off black walls and dragons. Stone dragons who will never wake, I pray. The Stone Drum loomed huge ahead of him. The guards at the door uncrossed their spears as he approached. Not for the onion knight, but for the King's Hand. Davos was the Hand going in, at least. He wondered what he would becoming out. If I ever do...\n\nThe steps seemed longer and steeper than before, or perhaps it was just that he was tired. The Mother never made me for tasks like this. He had risen too high and too fast, and up hereon the mountain the air was too thin for him to breathe. As a boy he'd dreamed of riches, but that was long ago. Later, grown, all he had wanted was a few acres of good land, a hall to grow old in, a better life for his sons. The Blind Bastard used to tell him that a clever smuggler did not overreach, nor draw too much attention to himself. A few acres, a timbered roof, a'ser\" before my name, I should have been content. If he survived this night, he would take Devan and sail home to Cape Wrath and his gentle Marya. We will grieve together for our dead sons, raise the living ones to be good men, and speak no more of kings."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Chamber of the Painted Table was dark and empty when Davos entered; the king would still beat the nightfire, with Melisandre and the queen's men. He knelt and made afire in the hearth, to drive the chill from the round chamber and chase the shadows back into their corners. Then he went around the room to each window in turn, opening the heavy velvet curtains and unlatching the wooden shutters. The wind came in, strong with the smell of salt and sea, and pulled at his plain brown cloak.\n\nAt the north window, he leaned against the sill fora breath of the cold night air, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mad Prendos raising sail, but the sea seemed black and empty as far as the eye could see. Is she gone already? He could only pray that she was, and the boy with her. A half moon was sliding in and out amongst thin high clouds, and Davos could see familiar stars. There was the Galley, sailing west; there the Crone's Lantern, four bright stars that enclosed a golden haze. The clouds hid most of the Ice Dragon, all but the bright blue eye that marked due north. The sky is full of smugglers\" stars. They were old friends, those stars; Davos hoped that meant good luck.\n\nBut when he lowered his gaze from the sky to the castle ramparts, he was not so certain. The wings of the stone dragons cast great black shadows in the light from the nightfire. He tried to tell himself that they were no more than carvings, cold and lifeless. This was their place, once. A place of dragons and dragonlords, the seat of House Targaryen. The Targaryens were the blood of old Valyria...\n\nThe wind sighed through the chamber, and in the hearth the flames gusted and swirled. He listened to the logs crackle and spit. When Davos left the window his shadow went before him, tall and thin, and fell across the Painted Table like a sword. And there he stood fora longtime, waiting. He heard their boots on the stone steps as they ascended. The king's voice went before him. \"... is not three,\" he was saying."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Three is three,\" came Melisandre's answer."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I swear to you, Your Grace, I saw him die and heard his mother's wail.\"\n\n\"In the nightfire.\" Stannis and Melisandre came through the door together. \"The flames are full of tricks. What is, what will be, what maybe. You cannot tell me fora certainty...\"\n\n\"Your Grace.\" Davos stepped forward. \"Lady Melisandre saw it true. Your nephew Joffrey is dead.\"\n\nIf the king was surprised to find him at the Painted Table, he gave no sign. \"Lord Davos,\" he said. \"He was not my nephew. Though for years I believed he was.\"\n\n\"He choked on a morsel of food at his wedding feast,\" Davos said. \"It maybe that he was poisoned.\"\n\n\"He is the third,\" said Melisandre.\n\n\"I can count, woman.\" Stannis walked along the table, past Oldtown and the Arbor, up toward the Shield Islands and the mouth of the Mander. \"Weddings have become more perilous than battles, it would seem. Who was the poisoner? Is it known?\"\n\n\"His uncle, it's said. The Imp.\"\n\nStannis ground his teeth. \"A dangerous man. I learned that on the Blackwater. How do you come by this report?\"\n\n\"The Lyseni still trade at King's Landing. Salladhor Saan has no reason to lie tome.\"\n\n\"I suppose not.\" The king ran his fingers across the table. \"Joffrey... I remember once, this kitchen cat... the cooks were wont to feed her scraps and fish heads. One told the boy that she had kittens in her belly, thinking he might want one. Joffrey opened up the poor thing with a dagger to see if it were true. When he found the kittens, he brought them to show to his father. Robert hit the boy so hard I thought he'd killed him.\" The king took off his crown and placed it on the table. \"Dwarf or leech, this killer served the kingdom well. They must send for me now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"They will not,\" said Melisandre."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Joffrey has a brother.\"\n\n\"Tommen.\" The king said the name grudgingly.\n\n\"They will crown Tommen, and rule in his name.\"\n\nStannis made a fist. \"Tommen is gentler than Joffrey, but born of the same incest. Another monster in the making. Another leech upon the land. Westeros needs a man's hand, not a child's.\"\n\nMelisandre moved closer. \"Save them, sire. Let me wake the stone dragons. Three is three. Give me the boy.\"\n\n\"Edric Storm,\" Davos said.\n\nStannis rounded on him in a cold fury. \"I know his name. Spare me your reproaches. I like this no more than you do, but my duty is to the realm. My duty...\" He turned back to Melisandre. \"You swear there is no other way? Swear it on your life, for I promise, you shall die by inches if you lie.\"\n\n\"You are he who must stand against the Other. The one whose coming was prophesied five thousand years ago. The red comet was your herald. You are the prince that was promised, and if you fail the world fails with you.\" Melisandre went to him, her red lips parted, her ruby throbbing. \"Give me this boy,\" she whispered, \"and I will give you your kingdom.\"\n\n\"He can't,\" said Davos. \"Edric Storm is gone.\"\n\n\"Gone?\" Stannis turned. \"What do you mean, gone?\"\n\n\"He is aboard a Lyseni galley, safely out to sea.\" Davos watched Melisandre's pale, heart-shaped face. He saw the flicker of dismay there, the sudden uncertainty. She did not see it!"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The king's eyes were dark blue bruises in the hollows of his face. \"The bastard was taken from Dragonstone without my leave? A galley, you say? If that Lysene pirate thinks to use the boy to squeeze gold from me-\"\n\n\"This is your Hand's work, sire.\" Melisandre gave Davos a knowing look. \"You will bring him back, my lord. You will.\"\n\n\"The boy is out of my reach,\" said Davos. \"And out of your reach as well, my lady.\"\n\nHer red eyes made him squirm. \"I should have left you to the dark, ser. Do you know what you have done?\"\n\n\"My duty.\"\n\n\"Some might call it treason.\" Stannis went to the window to stare out into the night. Is he looking for the ship? \"I raised you up from dirt, Davos.\" He sounded more tired than angry. \"Was loyalty too much to hope for?\"\n\n\"Four of my sons died for you on the Blackwater. I might have died myself. You have my loyalty, always.\" Davos Seaworth had thought long and hard about the words he said next; he knew his life depended on them. \"Your Grace, you made me swear to give you honest counsel and swift obedience, to defend your realm against your foes, to protect your people. Is not Edric Storm one of your people? One of those I swore to protect? I kept my oath. How could that be treason?\"\n\nStannis ground his teeth again. \"I never asked for this crown. Gold is cold and heavy on the head, but so long as I am the king, I have a duty... If I must sacrifice one child to the flames to save a million from the dark... Sacrifice... is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice. Tell him, my lady.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Melisandre said, \"Azor Ahai tempered Lightbringer with the heart's blood of his own beloved wife."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If a man with a thousand cows gives one to god, that is nothing. But a man who offers the only cow he owns...\"\n\n\"She talks of cows,\" Davos told the king. \"I am speaking of a boy, your daughter's friend, your brother's son.\"\n\n\"A king's son, with the power of kingsblood in his veins.\" Melisandre's ruby glowed like a red star at her throat. \"Do you think you've saved this boy, Onion Knight? When the long night falls, Edric Storm shall die with the rest, wherever he is hidden. Your own sons as well. Darkness and cold will cover the earth. You meddle in matters you do not understand.\"\n\n\"There's much I don't understand,\" Davos admitted. \"I have never pretended elsewise. I know the seas and rivers, the shapes of the coasts, where the rocks and shoals lie. I know hidden coves where a boat can land unseen. And I know that a king protects his people, or he is no king at all.\"\n\nStannis's face darkened. \"Do you mock me to my face? Must I learn a king's duty from an onion smuggler?\"\n\nDavos knelt. \"If I have offended, take my head. I'll die as I lived, your loyal man. But hear me first. Hear me for the sake of the onions I brought you, and the fingers you took.\"\n\nStannis slid Lightbringer from its scabbard. Its glow filled the chamber. \"Say what you will, but say it quickly.\" The muscles in the king's neck stood out like cords.\n\nDavos fumbled inside his cloak and drew out the crinkled sheet of parchment. It seemed a thin and flimsy thing, yet it was all the shield he had. \"A King's Hand should be able to read and write. Maester Pylos has been teaching me.\" He smoothed the letter flat upon his knee and began to read by the light of the magic sword."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JON\n\nHe dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the darkness. \"Father?\" he called. \"Bran? Rickon?\" No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on his neck. \"Uncle?\" he called. \"Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me.\" Up above he heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and this is not my place. His crutch slipped and he fell to his knees. The crypts were growing darker. Alight has gone out somewhere. \"Ygritte?\" he whispered. \"Forgive me. Please.\" But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark...\n\nThe cell was dark, the bed hard beneath him. His own bed, he remembered, his own bed in his steward's cell beneath the Old Bear's chambers. By rights it should have brought him sweeter dreams. Even beneath the furs, he was cold. Ghost had shared his cell before the ranging, warming it against the chill of night. And in the wild, Ygritte had slept beside him. Both gone now. He had burned Ygritte himself, as he knew she would have wanted, and Ghost... Where are you? Was he dead as well, was that what his dream had meant, the bloody wolf in the crypts? But the wolf in the dream had been grey, not white. Grey, like Bran's wolf. Had the Thenns hunted him down and killed him after Queenscrown? If so, Bran was lost to him for good and all."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon was trying to make sense of that when the horn blew.\n\nThe Horn of Winter, he thought, still confused from sleep. But Mance never found Joramun's horn, so that couldn't be. A second blast followed, as long and deep as the first. Jon had to getup and go to the Wall, he knew, but it was so hard...\n\nHe shoved aside his furs and sat. The pain in his leg seemed duller, nothing he could not stand. He had slept in his breeches and tunic and smallclothes, for the added warmth, so he had only to pull on his boots and don leather and mail and cloak. The horn blew again, two long blasts, so he slung Longclaw over one shoulder, found his crutch, and hobbled down the steps.\n\nIt was the black of night outside, bitter cold and overcast. His brothers were spilling out of towers and keeps, buckling their swordbelts and walking toward the Wall. Jon looked for Pyp and Grenn, but could not find them. Perhaps one of them was the sentry blowing the horn. It is Mance, he thought. He has come at last. That was good. We will fight a battle, and then we'll rest. Alive or dead, we'll rest.\n\nWhere the stair had been, only an immense tangle of charred wood and broken ice remained below the Wall. The winch raised them up now, but the cage was only big enough for ten men at a time, and it was already on its way up by the time Jon arrived. He would need to wait for its return. Others waited with him; Satin, Mully, Spare Boot, Kegs, big blond Hareth with his buckteeth. Everyone called him Horse. He had been a stablehand in Mole's Town, one of the few moles who had stayed at Castle Black. The rest had run back to their fields and hovels, or their beds in the underground brothel. Horse wanted to take the black, though, the great buck-toothed fool. Zei remained as well, the whore who'd proved so handy with a crossbow, and Noye had kept three orphan boys whose father had died on the steps. They were young-nine and eight and five-but no one else seemed to want them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As they waited for the cage to comeback, Clydas brought them cups of hot mulled wine, while Three-Finger Hobb passed out chunks of black bread. Jon took a heel from him and gnawed on it.\n\n\"Is it Mance Rayder?\" Satin asked anxiously.\n\n\"We can hope so.\" There were worse things than wildlings in the dark. Jon remembered the words the wildling king had spoken on the Fist of the First Men, as they stood amidst that pink snow. When the dead walk, walls and stakes and swords mean nothing. You cannot fight the dead, Jon Snow. No man knows that half so well as me. Just thinking of it made the wind seem a little colder.\n\nFinally the cage came clanking back down, swaying at the end of the long chain, and they crowded in silently and shut the door.\n\nMully yanked the bell rope three times. A moment later they began to rise, by fits and starts at first, then more smoothly. No one spoke. At the top the cage swung sideways and they clambered out one by one. Horse gave Jon a hand down onto the ice. The cold hit him in the teeth like a fist.\n\nAline of fires burned along the top of the Wall, contained in iron baskets on poles taller than a man. The cold knife of the wind stirred and swirled the flames, so the lurid orange light was always shifting. Bundles of quarrels, arrows, spears, and scorpion bolts stood ready on every hand. Rocks were piled ten feet high, big wooden barrels of pitch and lamp oil lined up beside them. Bowen Marsh had left Castle Blackwell supplied in everything save men. The wind was whipping at the black cloaks of the scarecrow sentinels who stood along the ramparts, spears in hand. \"I hope it wasn't one of them who blew the horn,\" Jon said to Donal Noye when he limped up beside him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did you hear that?\" Noye asked.\n\nThere was the wind, and horses, and something else. \"A mammoth,\" Jon said. \"That was a mammoth.\"\n\nThe armorer's breath was frosting as it blew from his broad, flat nose. North of the Wall was a sea of darkness that seemed to stretch forever. Jon could make out the faint red glimmer of distant fires moving through the wood. It was Mance, certain as sunrise. The Others did not light torches.\n\n\"How do we fight them if we can't see them?\" Horse asked.\n\nDonal Noye turned toward the two great trebuchets that Bowen Marsh had restored to working order. \"Give me light!\" he roared.\n\nBarrels of pitch were loaded hastily into the slings and set afire with a torch. The wind fanned the flames to a brisk red fury. \"NOW!\" Noye bellowed. The counterweights plunged downward, the throwing arms rose to thud against the padded crossbars. The burning pitch went tumbling through the darkness, casting an eerie flickering light upon the ground below. Jon caught a glimpse of mammoths moving ponderously through the half-light, and just as quickly lost them again. A dozen, maybe more. The barrels struck the earth and burst. They heard a deep bass trumpeting, and a giant roared something in the Old Tongue, his voice an ancient thunder that sent shivers up Jon's spine.\n\n\"Again!\" Noye shouted, and the trebuchets were loaded once more. Two more barrels of burning pitch went crackling through the gloom to come crashing down amongst the foe. This time one of them struck a dead tree, enveloping it inflame. Not a dozen mammoths, Jon saw, a hundred."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He stepped to the edge of the precipice. Careful, he reminded himself, it is along way down. Red Alyn sounded his sentry's horn once more, Aaaaahoooooooooooooooooooooooooo, aaaaahoooooooooooooooooooo. And now the wildlings answered, not with one horn but with a dozen, and with drums and pipes as well. We are come, they seemed to say, we are come to break your Wall, to take your lands and steal your daughters. The wind howled, the trebuchets creaked and thumped, the barrels flew. Behind the giants and the mammoths, Jon saw men advancing on the Wall with bows and axes. Were there twenty or twenty thousand? In the dark there was noway to tell. This is a battle of blind men, but Mance has a few thousand more of them than we do.\n\n\"The gate!\" Pyp cried out. \"They're at the GATE!\"\n\nThe Wall was too big to be stormed by any conventional means; too high for ladders or siege towers, too thick for battering rams. No catapult could throw a stone large enough to breach it, and if you tried to set it on fire, the icemelt would quench the flames. You could climb over, as the raiders did near Greyguard, but only if you were strong and fit and sure-handed, and even then you might end up like Jarl, impaled on a tree. They must take the gate, or they cannot pass.\n\nBut the gate was a crooked tunnel through the ice, smaller than any castle gate in the Seven Kingdoms, so narrow that rangers must lead their garrons through single file. Three iron grates closed the inner passage, each locked and chained and protected by a murder hole. The outer door was old oak, nine inches thick and studded with iron, not easy to breakthrough. But Mance has mammoths, he reminded himself, and giants as well."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Must be cold down there,\" said Noye. \"What say we warm them up, lads?\" A dozen jars of lamp oil had been lined upon the precipice. Pyp ran down the line with a torch, setting them alight. Owen the Oaf followed, shoving them over the edge one by one. Tongues of pale yellow fire swirled around the jars as they plunged downward. When the last was gone, Grenn kicked loose the chocks on a barrel of pitch and sent it rumbling and rolling over the edge as well. The sounds below changed to shouts and screams, sweet music to their ears.\n\nYet still the drums beat on, the trebuchets shuddered and thumped, and the sound of skinpipes came wafting through the night like the songs of strange fierce birds. Septon Cellador began to sing as well, his voice tremulous and thick with wine.\n\nGentle Mother, font of mercy,\n\nsave our sons from war, we pray,\n\nstay the swords and stay the arrows,\n\nlet them know...\n\nDonal Noye rounded on him. \"Any man here stays his sword, I'll chuck his puckered arse right off this Wall... starting with you, Septon. Archers! Do we have any bloody archers?\"\n\n\"Here,\" said Satin.\n\n\"And here,\" said Mully. \"But how can I find a target? It's black as the inside of a pig's belly. Where are they?\"\n\nNoye pointed north. \"Loose enough arrows, might be you'll find a few. At least you'll make them fretful.\" He looked around the ring of firelit faces. \"I need two bows and two spears to help me hold the tunnel if they break the gate.\" More than ten stepped forward, and the smith picked his four. \"Jon, you have the Wall till I return.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fora moment Jon thought he had misheard. It had sounded as if Noye were leaving him in command. \"My lord?\"\n\n\"Lord? I'm a blacksmith. I said, the Wallis yours.\"\n\nThere are older men, Jon wanted to say, better men. I am still as green as summer grass. I'm wounded, and I stand accused of desertion. His mouth had gone bone dry. \"Aye,\" he managed.\n\nAfterward it would seem to Jon Snow as if he'd dreamt that night. Side by side with the straw soldiers, with longbows or crossbows clutched in half-frozen hands, his archers launched a hundred flights of arrows against men they never saw. From time to time a wildling arrow came flying back in answer. He sent men to the smaller catapults and filled the air with jagged rocks the size of a giant's fist, but the darkness swallowed them as a man might swallow a handful of nuts. Mammoths trumpeted in the gloom, strange voices called out in stranger tongues, and Septon Cellador prayed so loudly and drunkenly for the dawn to come that Jon was tempted to chuck him over the edge himself. They heard a mammoth dying at their feet and saw another lurch burning through the woods, trampling down men and trees alike. The wind blew cold and colder. Hobb rode up the chain with cups of onion broth, and Owen and Clydas served them to the archers where they stood, so they could gulp them down between arrows. Zei took a place among them with her crossbow. Hours of repeated jars and shocks knocked something loose on the right-hand trebuchet, and its counterweight came crashing free, suddenly and catastrophically, wrenching the throwing arm sideways with a splintering crash. The left-hand trebuchet kept throwing, but the wildlings had quickly learned to shun the place where its loads were landing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We should have twenty trebuchets, not two, and they should be mounted on sledges and turntables so we could move them. It was a futile thought. He might as well wish for another thousand men, and maybe a dragon or three.\n\nDonal Noye did not return, nor any of them who'd gone down with him to hold that black cold tunnel. The Wallis mine, Jon reminded himself whenever he felt his strength flagging. He had taken up a longbow himself, and his fingers felt crabbed and stiff, half-frozen. His fever was back as well, and his leg would tremble uncontrollably, sending a white-hot knife of pain right through him. One more arrow, and I'll rest, he told himself, half a hundred times. Just one more. Whenever his quiver was empty, one of the orphaned moles would bring him another. One more quiver, and I'm done. It couldn't belong until the dawn.\n\nWhen morning came, none of them quite realized it at first. The world was still dark, but the black had turned to grey and shapes were beginning to emerge half-seen from the gloom. Jon lowered his bow to stare at the mass of heavy clouds that covered the eastern sky. He could see aglow behind them, but perhaps he was only dreaming. He notched another arrow.\n\nThen the rising sun broke through to send pale lances of light across the battleground. Jon found himself holding his breath as he looked out over the half-mile swath of cleared land that lay between the Wall and the edge of the forest. In half a night they had turned it into a wasteland of blackened grass, bubbling pitch, shattered stone, and corpses. The carcass of the burned mammoth was already drawing crows. There were giants dead on the ground as well, but behind them..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Someone moaned to his left, and he heard Septon Cellador say, \"Mother have mercy, oh."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Oh, oh, oh, Mother have mercy.\"\n\nBeneath the trees were all the wildlings in the world; raiders and giants, wargs and skinchangers, mountain men, salt sea sailors, ice river cannibals, cave dwellers with dyed faces, dog chariots from the Frozen Shore, Hornfoot men with their soles like boiled leather, all the queer wild folk Mance had gathered to break the Wall. This is not your land, Jon wanted to shout at them. There is no place for you here. Go away. He could hear Tormund Giantsbane laughing at that. \"You know nothing, Jon Snow,\" Ygritte would have said. He flexed his sword hand, opening and closing the fingers, though he knew full well that swords would not come into it up here.\n\nHe was chilled and feverish, and suddenly the weight of the longbow was too much. The battle with the Magnar had been nothing, he realized, and the night fight less than nothing, only a probe, a dagger in the dark to try and catch them unprepared. The real battle was only now beginning.\n\n\"I never knew there would be so many,\" Satin said.\n\nJon had. He had seen them before, but not like this, not drawn up in battle array. On the march the wildling column had sprawled overlong leagues like some enormous worm, but you never saw all of it at once. But now...\n\n\"Here they come,\" someone said in a hoarse voice.\n\nMammoths centered the wildling line, he saw, a hundred or more with giants on their backs clutching mauls and huge stone axes. More giants loped beside them, pushing along a tree trunk on great wooden wheels, its end sharpened to a point. A ram, he thought bleakly. If the gate still stood below, a few kisses from that thing would soon turn it into splinters. On either side of the giants came a wave of horsemen in boiled leather harness with fire-hardened lances, amass of running archers, hundreds of foot with spears, slings, clubs, and leathern shields. The bone chariots from the Frozen Shore clattered forward on the flanks, bouncing over rocks and roots behind teams of huge white dogs. The fury of the wild, Jon thought as he listened to the skirl of skins, to the dogs barking and baying, the mammoths trumpeting, the free folk whistling and screaming, the giants roaring in the Old Tongue. Their drums echoed off the ice like rolling thunder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could feel the despair all around him. \"There must be a hundred thousand,\" Satin wailed. \"How can we stop so many?\"\n\n\"The Wall will stop them,\" Jon heard himself say. He turned and said it again, louder. \"The Wall will stop them. The Wall defends itself.\" Hollow words, but he needed to say them, almost as much as his brothers needed to hear them. \"Mance wants to unman us with his numbers. Does he think we're stupid?\" He was shouting now, his leg forgotten, and every man was listening. \"The chariots, the horsemen, all those fools on foot... what are they going to do to us up here? Any of you ever see a mammoth climb a wall?\" He laughed, and Pyp and Owen and half a dozen more laughed with him. \"They're nothing, they're less use than our straw brothers here, they can't reach us, they can't hurt us, and they don't frighten us, do they?\"\n\n\"NO!\" Grenn shouted.\n\n\"They're down there and we're up here,\" Jon said, \"and so long as we hold the gate they cannot pass. They cannot pass!\" They were all shouting then, roaring his own words back at him, waving swords and longbows in the air as their cheeks flushed red. Jon saw Kegs standing therewith a warhorn slung beneath his arm. \"Brother,\" he told him, \"sound for battle.\"\n\nGrinning, Kegs lifted the horn to his lips, and blew the two long blasts that meant wildlings. Other horns took up the call until the Wall itself seemed to shudder, and the echo of those great deep-throated moans drowned all other sound.\n\n\"Archers,\" Jon said when the horns had died away, \"you'll aim for the giants with that ram, every bloody one of you. Loose at my command, not before. THE GIANTS AND THE RAM. I want arrows raining on them with every step, but we'll wait till they're in range. Any man who wastes an arrow will need to climb down and fetch it back, do you hear me?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I do,\" shouted Owen the Oaf."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I hear you, Lord Snow.\"\n\nJon laughed, laughed like a drunk or a madman, and his men laughed with him. The chariots and the racing horsemen on the flanks were well ahead of the center now, he saw. The wildlings had not crossed a third of the half mile, yet their battle line was dissolving. \"Load the trebuchet with caltrops,\" Jon said. \"Owen, Kegs, angle the catapults toward the center. Scorpions, load with fire spears and loose at my command.\" He pointed at the Mole's Town boys. \"You, you, and you, standby with torches.\"\n\nThe wildling archers shot as they advanced; they would dash forward, stop, loose, then run another ten yards. There were so many that the air was constantly full of arrows, all falling woefully short. A waste, Jon thought. Their want of discipline is showing. The smaller horn-and-wood bows of the free folk were outranged by the great yew longbows of the Night's Watch, and the wildlings were trying to shoot at men seven hundred feet above them. \"Let them shoot,\" Jon said. \"Wait. Hold.\" Their cloaks were flapping behind them. \"The wind is in our faces, it will cost us range. Wait.\" Closer, closer. The skins wailed, the drums thundered, the wildling arrows fluttered and fell.\n\n\"DRAW.\" Jon lifted his own bow and pulled the arrow to his ear. Satin did the same, and Grenn, Owen the Oaf, Spare Boot, Black Jack Bulwer, Arron and Emrick. Zei hoisted her crossbow to her shoulder. Jon was watching the ram come on and on, the mammoths and giants lumbering forward on either side. They were so small he could have crushed them all in one hand, it seemed. If only my hand was big enough. Through the killing ground they came. A hundred crows rose from the carcass of the dead mammoth as the wildlings thundered past to either side of them. Closer and closer, until..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"LOOSE!\"\n\nThe black arrows hissed downward, like snakes on feathered wings. Jon did not wait to see where they struck. He reached fora second arrow as soon as the first left his bow. \"NOTCH. DRAW. LOOSE.\" As soon as the arrow flew he found another. \"NOTCH. DRAW. LOOSE.\" Again, and then again. Jon shouted for the trebuchet, and heard the creak and heavy thud as a hundred spiked steel caltrops went spinning through the air. \"Catapults,\" he called, \"scorpions. Bowmen, loose at will.\" Wildling arrows were striking the Wall now, a hundred feet below them. A second giant spun and staggered. Notch, draw, loose. A mammoth veered into another beside it, spilling giants on the ground. Notch, draw, loose. The ram was down and done, he saw, the giants who'd pushed it dead or dying. \"Fire arrows,\" he shouted. \"I want that ram burning.\" The screams of wounded mammoths and the booming cries of giants mingled with the drums and pipes to make an awful music, yet still his archers drew and loosed, as if they'd all gone as deaf as dead Dick Follard. They might be the dregs of the order, but they were men of the Night's Watch, or near enough as made no matter. That's why they shall not pass.\n\nOne of the mammoths was running berserk, smashing wildlings with his trunk and crushing archers underfoot. Jon pulled back his bow once more, and launched another arrow at the beast's shaggy back to urge him on. To east and west, the flanks of the wildling host had reached the Wall unopposed. The chariots drew in or turned while the horsemen milled aimlessly beneath the looming cliff of ice. \"At the gate!\" a shout came. Spare Boot, maybe. \"Mammoth at the gate!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fire,\" Jon barked. \"Grenn, Pyp.\"\n\nGrenn thrust his bow aside, wrestled a barrel of oil onto its side, and rolled it to the edge of the Wall, where Pyp hammered out the plug that sealed it, stuffed in a twist of cloth, and set it alight with a torch. They shoved it over together. A hundred feet below it struck the Wall and burst, filling the air with shattered staves and burning oil. Grenn was rolling a second barrel to the precipice by then, and Kegs had one as well. Pyp lit them both. \"Got him!\" Satin shouted, his head sticking out so far that Jon was certain he was about to fall. \"Got him, got him, GOT him!\" He could hear the roar of fire. A flaming giant lurched into view, stumbling and rolling on the ground.\n\nThen suddenly the mammoths were fleeing, running from the smoke and flames and smashing into those behind them in their terror. Those went backward too, the giants and wildlings behind them scrambling to get out of their way. In half a heartbeat the whole center was collapsing. The horsemen on the flanks saw themselves being abandoned and decided to fallback as well, not one so much as blooded. Even the chariots rumbled off, having done nothing but look fearsome and make a lot of noise. When they break, they break hard, Jon Snow thought as he watched them reel away. The drums had all gone silent. How do you like that music, Mance? How do you like the taste of the Dornishman's wife? \"Do we have anyone hurt?\" he asked.\n\n\"The bloody buggers got my leg.\" Spare Boot plucked the arrow out and waved it above his head. \"The wooden one!\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 68"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "That night, as he sat by his window drinking, he heard voices outside his door."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Kevan, come for my answer, he thought at once, but it was not his uncle who entered.\n\nTyrion rose to give Prince Oberyn a mocking bow. \"Are judges permitted to visit the accused?\"\n\n\"Princes are permitted to go where they will. Or so I told your guards.\" The Red Viper took a seat.\n\n\"My father will be displeased with you.\"\n\n\"The happiness of Tywin Lannister has never been high on my list of concerns. Is it Dornish wine you're drinking?\"\n\n\"From the Arbor.\"\n\nOberyn made a face. \"Red water. Did you poison him?\"\n\n\"No. Did you?\"\n\nThe prince smiled. \"Do all dwarfs have tongues like yours? Someone is going to cut it out one of these days.\"\n\n\"You are not the first to tell me that. Perhaps I should cut it out myself, it seems to make no end of trouble.\"\n\n\"So I've seen. I think I may drink some of Lord Redwyne's grape juice after all.\"\n\n\"As you like.\" Tyrion served him a cup.\n\nThe man took a sip, sloshed it about in his mouth, and swallowed. \"It will serve, for the moment. I will send you up some strong Dornish wine on the morrow.\" He took another sip. \"I have turned up that golden-haired whore I was hoping for.\"\n\n\"So you found Chataya's?\"\n\n\"At Chataya's I bedded the black-skinned girl. Alayaya, I believe she is called. Exquisite, despite the stripes on her back. But the whore I referred to is your sister.\"\n\n\"Has she seduced you yet?\" Tyrion asked, unsurprised."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Oberyn laughed aloud. \"No, but she will if I meet her price. The queen has even hinted at marriage. Her Grace needs another husband, and who better than a prince of Dorne? Ellaria believes I should accept. Just the thought of Cersei in our bed makes her wet, the randy wench. And we should not even need to pay the dwarf's penny. All your sister requires from me is one head, somewhat overlarge and missing a nose.\"\n\n\"And?\" said Tyrion, waiting.\n\nByway of answer Prince Oberyn swirled his wine, and said, \"When the Young Dragon conquered Dorne so long ago, he left the Lord of Highgarden to rule us after the Submission of Sunspear. This Tyrell moved with his tail from keep to keep, chasing rebels and making certain that our knees stayed bent. He would arrive in force, take a castle for his own, stay a moon's turn, and ride onto the next castle. It was his custom to turn the lords out of their own chambers and take their beds for himself. One night he found himself beneath a heavy velvet canopy. A sash hung down near the pillows, should he wish to summon a wench. He had a taste for Dornish women, this Lord Tyrell, and who can blame him? So he pulled upon the sash, and when he did the canopy above him split open, and a hundred red scorpions fell down upon his head. His death lit afire that soon swept across Dorne, undoing all the Young Dragon's victories in a fortnight. The kneeling men stood up, and we were free again.\"\n\n\"I know the tale,\" said Tyrion. \"What of it?\"\n\n\"Just this. If I should ever find a sash beside my own bed, and pull on it, I would sooner have the scorpions fall upon me than the queen in all her naked beauty.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion grinned. \"We have that much in common, then.\"\n\n\"To be sure, I have much to thank your sister for. If not for her accusation at the feast, it might well be you judging me instead of me judging you.\" The prince's eyes were dark with amusement. \"Who knows more of poison than the Red Viper of Dorne, after all? Who has better reason to want to keep the Tyrells far from the crown? And with Joffrey in his grave, by Dornish law the Iron Throne should pass next to his sister Myrcella, who as it happens is betrothed to mine own nephew, thanks to you.\"\n\n\"Dornish law does not apply.\" Tyrion had been so ensnared in his own troubles that he'd never stopped to consider the succession. \"My father will crown Tommen, count on that.\"\n\n\"He may indeed crown Tommen, herein King's Landing. Which is not to say that my brother may not crown Myrcella, down in Sunspear. Will your father make war on your niece on behalf of your nephew? Will your sister?\" He gave a shrug. \"Perhaps I should marry Queen Cersei after all, on the condition that she support her daughter over her son. Do you think she would?\"\n\nNever, Tyrion wanted to say, but the word caught in his throat. Cersei always resented being excluded from power on account of her sex. If Dornish law applied in the west, she would be the heir to Casterly Rock in her own right. She and Jaime were twins, but Cersei had come first into the world, and that was all it took. By championing Myrcella's cause she would be championing her own. \"I do not know how my sister would choose, between Tommen and Myrcella,\" he admitted. \"It makes no matter. My father will never give her that choice.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your father,\" said Prince Oberyn, \"may not live forever.\"\n\nSomething about the way he said it made the hairs on the back of Tyrion's neck bristle. Suddenly he was mindful of Elia again, and all that Oberyn had said as they crossed the field of ashes. He wants the head that spoke the words, not just the hand that swung the sword. \"It is not wise to speak such treasons in the Red Keep, my prince. The little birds are listening.\"\n\n\"Let them. Is it treason to say a man is mortal? Valar morghulis was how they said it in Valyria of old. All men must die. And the Doom came and proved it true.\" The Dornishman went to the window to gaze out into the night. \"It is being said that you have no witnesses for us.\"\n\n\"I was hoping one look at this sweet face of mine would be enough to persuade you all of my innocence.\"\n\n\"You are mistaken, my lord. The Fat Flower of Highgarden is quite convinced of your guilt, and determined to see you die. His precious Margaery was drinking from that chalice too, as he has reminded us half a hundred times.\"\n\n\"And you?\" said Tyrion.\n\n\"Men are seldom as they appear. You look so very guilty that I am convinced of your innocence. Still, you will likely be condemned. Justice is in short supply this side of the mountains. There has been none for Elia, Aegon, or Rhaenys. Why should there be any for you? Perhaps Joffrey's real killer was eaten by a bear. That seems to happen quite often in King's Landing. Oh, wait, the bear was at Harrenhal, now I remember.\"\n\n\"Is that the game we are playing?\" Tyrion rubbed at his scarred nose. He had nothing to lose by telling Oberyn the truth. \"There was a bear at Harrenhal, and it did kill Ser Amory Lorch.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"How sad for him,\" said the Red Viper."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And for you. Do all noseless men lie so badly, I wonder?\"\n\n\"I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father's bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names.\" He leaned forward. \"It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon's head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands.\"\n\n\"What is this, now? Truth, from a Lannister?\" Oberyn smiled coldly. \"Your father gave the commands, yes?\"\n\n\"No.\" He spoke the lie without hesitation, and never stopped to ask himself why he should.\n\nThe Dornishman raised one thin black eyebrow. \"Such a dutiful son. And such a very feeble lie. It was Lord Tywin who presented my sister's children to King Robert all wrapped up in crimson Lannister cloaks.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you ought to have this discussion with my father. He was there. I was at the Rock, and still so young that I thought the thing between my legs was only good for pissing.\"\n\n\"Yes, but you are here now, and in some difficulty, I would say. Your innocence maybe as plain as the scar on your face, but it will not save you. No more than your father will.\" The Dornish prince smiled. \"But I might.\"\n\n\"You?\" Tyrion studied him. \"You are one judge in three. How could you save me?\"\n\n\"Not as your judge. As your champion.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JAIME\n\nA white book sat on a white table in a white room.\n\nThe room was round, its walls of whitewashed stone hung with white woolen tapestries. It formed the first floor of White Sword Tower, a slender structure of four stories built into an angle of the castle wall overlooking the bay. The undercroft held arms and armor, the second and third floors the small spare sleeping cells of the six brothers of the Kingsguard.\n\nOne of those cells had been his for eighteen years, but this morning he had moved his things to the topmost floor, which was given over entirely to the Lord Commander's apartments. Those rooms were spare as well, though spacious; and they were above the outer walls, which meant he would have a view of the sea. I will like that, he thought. The view, and all the rest.\n\nAs pale as the room, Jaime sat by the book in his Kingsguard whites, waiting for his Sworn Brothers. A longsword hung from his hip. From the wrong hip. Before he had always worn his sword on his left, and drawn it across his body when he unsheathed. He had shifted it to his right hip this morning, so as to be able to draw it with his left hand in the same manner, but the weight of it felt strange there, and when he had tried to pull the blade from the scabbard the whole motion seemed clumsy and unnatural. His clothing fit badly as well. He had donned the winter raiment of the Kingsguard, a tunic and breeches of bleached white wool and a heavy white cloak, but it all seemed to hang loose on him.\n\nJaime had spent his days at his brother's trial, standing well to the back of the hall. Either Tyrion never saw him there or he did not know him, but that was no surprise. Half the court no longer seemed to know him. I am a stranger in my own House. His son was dead, his father had disowned him, and his sister... she had not allowed him to be alone with her once, after that first day in the royal sept where Joffrey lay amongst the candles. Even when they bore him across the city to his tomb in the Great Sept of Baelor, Cersei kept a careful distance."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He looked about the Round Room once more. White wool hangings covered the walls, and there was a white shield and two crossed longswords mounted above the hearth. The chair behind the table was old black oak, with cushions of blanched cowhide, the leather worn thin. Worn by the bony arse of Barristan the Bold and Ser Gerold Hightower before him, by Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, Ser Ryam Redwyne, and the Demon of Darry, by Ser Duncan the Tall and the Pale Griffin Alyn Connington. How could the Kingslayer belong in such exalted company?\n\nYet here he was.\n\nThe table itself was old weirwood, pale as bone, carved in the shape of a huge shield supported by three white stallions. By tradition the Lord Commander sat at the top of the shield, and the brothers three to aside, on the rare occasions when all seven were assembled. The book that rested by his elbow was massive; two feet tall and afoot and a half wide, a thousand pages thick, fine white vellum bound between covers of bleached white leather with gold hinges and fastenings. The Book of the Brothers was its formal name, but more often it was simply called the White Book.\n\nWithin the White Book was the history of the Kingsguard. Every knight who'd ever served had a page, to record his name and deeds for all time. On the top left-hand corner of each page was drawn the shield the man had carried at the time he was chosen, inked in rich colors. Down in the bottom right corner was the shield of the Kingsguard; snow-white, empty, pure. The upper shields were all different; the lower shields were all the same. In the space between were written the facts of each man's life and service. The heraldic drawings and illuminations were done by septons sent from the Great Sept of Baelor three times a year, but it was the duty of the Lord Commander to keep the entries up to date."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "My duty, now. Once he learned to write with his left hand, that is. The White Book was well behind. The deaths of Ser Mandon Moore and Ser Preston Greenfield needed to be entered, and the brief bloody Kingsguard service of Sandor Clegane as well. New pages must be started for Ser Balon Swann, Ser Osmund Kettleblack, and the Knight of Flowers. I will need to summon a septon to draw their shields.\n\nSer Barristan Selmy had preceded Jaime as Lord Commander. The shield atop his page showed the arms of House Selmy: three stalks of wheat, yellow, on a brownfield. Jaime was amused, though unsurprised, to find that Ser Barristan had taken the time to record his own dismissal before leaving the castle.\n\nSer Barristan of House Selmy. Firstborn son of Ser Lyonel Selmy of Harvest Hall. Served as squire to Ser Manfred Swann. Named'the Bold\" in his 10th year, when he donned borrowed armor to appear as a mystery knight in the tourney at Blackhaven, where he was defeated and unmasked by Duncan, Prince of Dragonflies. Knighted in his 16th year by King Aegon V Targaryen, after performing great feats of prowess as a mystery knight in the winter tourney at King's Landing, defeating Prince Duncan the Small and Ser Duncan the Tall, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Slew Maelys the Monstrous, last of the Blackfyre Pretenders, in single combat during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Defeated Lormelle Long Lance and Cedrik Storm, the Bastard of Bronzegate. Named to the Kingsguard in his 23rd year, by Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower. Defended the passage against all challengers in the tourney of the Silver Bridge. Victor in the mêlée at Maidenpool. Brought King Aerys II to safety during the Defiance of Duskendale, despite an arrow wound in the chest. Avenged the murder of his Sworn Brother, Ser Gwayne Gaunt. Rescued Lady Jeyne Swann and her septa from the Kingswood Brotherhood, defeating Simon Toyne and the Smiling Knight, and slaying the former. In the Oldtown tourney, defeated and unmasked the mystery knight Blackshield, revealing him as the Bastard of Uplands. Sole champion of Lord Steffon's tourney at Storm's End, whereat he unhorsed Lord Robert Baratheon, Prince Oberyn Martell, Lord Leyton Hightower, Lord Jon Connington, Lord Jason Mallister, and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Wounded by arrow, spear, and sword at the Battle of the Trident whilst fighting beside his Sworn Brothers and Rhaegar Prince of Dragonstone. Pardoned, and named Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, by King Robert I Baratheon. Served in the honor guard that brought Lady Cersei of House Lannister to King's Landing towed King Robert. Led the attack on Old Wyk during Balon Greyjoy's Rebellion. Champion of the tourney at King's Landing, in his 57th year. Dismissed from service by King Joffrey I baratheon in his 61st year, for reasons of advanced age."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The earlier part of Ser Barristan's storied career had been entered by Ser Gerold Hightower in a big forceful hand. Selmy's own smaller and more elegant writing took over with the account of his wounding on the Trident.\n\nJaime's own page was scant by comparison.\n\nSer Jaime of House Lannister. Firstborn son of Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna of Casterly Rock. Served against the Kingswood Brotherhood as squire to Lord Summer Crakehall. Knighted in his 15th year by Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard, for valor in the field. Chosen for the Kingsguard in his 15th year by King Aerys II Targaryen. During the Sack of King's Landing, slew King Aerys II at the foot of the Iron Throne. Thereafter known as the'Kingslayer.\" Pardoned for his crime by King Robert I Baratheon. Served in the honor guard that brought his sister the Lady Cersei Lannister to King's Landing towed King Robert. Champion in the tourney held at King's Landing on the occasion of their wedding.\n\nSummed up like that, his life seemed a rather scant and mingy thing. Ser Barristan could have recorded a few of his other tourney victories, at least. And Ser Gerold might have written a few more words about the deeds he'd performed when Ser Arthur Dayne broke the Kingswood Brotherhood. He had saved Lord Sumner's life as Big Belly Ben was about to smash his head in, though the outlaw had escaped him. And he'd held his own against the Smiling Knight, though it was Ser Arthur who slew him. What a fight that was, and what a foe. The Smiling Knight was a madman, cruelty and chivalry all jumbled up together, but he did not know the meaning of fear. And Dayne, with Dawn in hand... The outlaw's longsword had so many notches by the end that Ser Arthur had stopped to let him fetch anew one. \"It's that white sword of yours I want,\" the robber knight told him as they resumed, though he was bleeding from a dozen wounds by then. \"Then you shall have it, ser,\" the Sword of the Morning replied, and made an end of it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The world was simpler in those days, Jaime thought, and men as well as swords were made of finer steel."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Or was it only that he had been fifteen? They were all in their graves now, the Sword of the Morning and the Smiling Knight, the White Bull and Prince Lewyn, Ser Oswell Whent with his black humor, earnest Jon Darry, Simon Toyne and his Kingswood Brotherhood, bluff old Sumner Crakehall. And me, that boy I was... when did he die, I wonder? When I donned the white cloak? When I opened Aerys's throat? That boy had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne, but someplace along the way he had become the Smiling Knight instead.\n\nWhen he heard the door open, he closed the White Book and stood to receive his Sworn Brothers. Ser Osmund Kettleblack was the first to arrive. He gave Jaime a grin, as if they were old brothers-in-arms. \"Ser Jaime,\" he said, \"had you looked like this t'other night, I'd have known you at once.\"\n\n\"Would you indeed?\" Jaime doubted that. The servants had bathed him, shaved him, and washed and brushed his hair. When he looked in a glass, he no longer saw the man who had crossed the riverlands with Brienne... but he did not see himself either. His face was thin and hollow, and he had lines under his eyes. I look like some old man. \"Standby your seat, ser.\"\n\nKettleblack complied. The other Sworn Brothers filed in one by one. \"Sers,\" Jaime said in a formal tone when all five had assembled, \"who guards the king?\"\n\n\"My brothers Ser Osney and Ser Osfryd,\" Ser Osmund replied.\n\n\"And my brother Ser Garlan,\" said the Knight of Flowers.\n\n\"Will they keep him safe?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They will, my lord.\"\n\n\"Be seated, then.\" The words were ritual. Before the seven could meet in session, the king's safety must be assured.\n\nSer Boros and Ser Meryn sat to his right, leaving an empty chair between them for Ser Arys Oakheart, off in Dorne. Ser Osmund, Ser Balon, and Ser Loras took the seats to his left. The old and the new. Jaime wondered if that meant anything. There had been times during its history where the Kingsguard had been divided against itself, most notably and bitterly during the Dance of the Dragons. Was that something he needed to fear as well?\n\nIt seemed queer to him to sit in the Lord Commander's seat where Barristan the Bold had sat for so many years. And even queerer to sit here crippled. Nonetheless, it was his seat, and this was his Kingsguard now. Tommen's seven.\n\nJaime had served with Meryn Trant and Boros Blount for years; adequate fighters, but Trant was sly and cruel, and Blount a bag of growly air. Ser Balon Swann was better suited to his cloak, and of course the Knight of Flowers was supposedly all a knight should be. The fifth man was a stranger to him, this Osmund Kettleblack.\n\nHe wondered what Ser Arthur Dayne would have to say of this lot. \"How is it that the Kingsguard has fallen so low,\" most like. \"It was my doing,\" I would have to answer. \"I opened the door, and did nothing when the vermin began to crawl inside.\"\n\n\"The king is dead,\" Jaime began. \"My sister's son, a boy of thirteen, murdered at his own wedding feast in his own hall. All five of you were present. All five of you were protecting him. And yet he's dead.\" He waited to see what they would say to that, but none of them so much as cleared a throat. The Tyrell boy is angry, and Balon Swann's ashamed, he judged. From the other three Jaime sensed only indifference. \"Did my brother do this thing?\" he asked them bluntly. \"Did Tyrion poison my nephew?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Balon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Ser Boros made a fist. Ser Osmund gave a lazy shrug. It was Meryn Trant who finally answered. \"He filled Joffrey's cup with wine. That must have been when he slipped the poison in.\"\n\n\"You are certain it was the wine that was poisoned?\"\n\n\"What else?\" said Ser Boros Blount. \"The Imp emptied the dregs on the floor. Why, but to spill the wine that might have proved him guilty?\"\n\n\"He knew the wine was poisoned,\" said Ser Meryn.\n\nSer Balon Swann frowned. \"The Imp was not alone on the dais. Far from it. That late in the feast, we had people standing and moving about, changing places, slipping off to the privy, servants were coming and going... the king and queen had just opened the wedding pie, every eye was on them or those thrice-damned doves. No one was watching the wine cup.\"\n\n\"Who else was on the dais?\" asked Jaime.\n\nSer Meryn answered. \"The king's family, the bride's family, Grand Maester Pycelle, the High Septon...\"\n\n\"There's your poisoner,\" suggested Ser Oswald Kettleblack with a sly grin. \"Too holy by half, that old man. Never liked the look o\" him, myself.\" He laughed.\n\n\"No,\" the Knight of Flowers said, unamused. \"Sansa Stark was the poisoner. You all forget, my sister was drinking from that chalice as well. Sansa Stark was the only person in the hall who had reason to want Margaery dead, as well as the king. By poisoning the wedding cup, she could hope to kill both of them. And why did she run afterward, unless she was guilty?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The boy makes sense. Tyrion might yet be innocent. No one was any closer to finding the girl, however. Perhaps Jaime should look into that himself. Fora start, it would be good to know how she had gotten out of the castle. Varys may have a notion or two about that. No one knew the Red Keep better than the eunuch.\n\nThat could wait, however. Just now Jaime had more immediate concerns. You say you are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, his father had said. Go do your duty. These five were not the brothers he would have chosen, but they were the brothers he had; the time had come to take them in hand.\n\n\"Whoever did it,\" he told them, \"Joffrey is dead, and the Iron Throne belongs to Tommen now. I mean for him to sit on it until his hair turns white and his teeth fallout. And not from poison.\" Jaime turned to Ser Boros Blount. The man had grown stout in recent years, though he was big-boned enough to carry it. \"Ser Boros, you look like a man who enjoys his food. Henceforth you'll taste everything Tommen eats or drinks.\"\n\nSer Osmund Kettleblack laughed aloud and the Knight of Flowers smiled, but Ser Boros turned a deep beet red. \"I am no food taster! I am a knight of the Kingsguard!\"\n\n\"Sad to say, you are.\" Cersei should never have stripped the man of his white cloak. But their father had only compounded the shame by restoring it. \"My sister has told me how readily you yielded my nephew to Tyrion's sellswords. You will find carrots and pease less threatening, I hope. When your Sworn Brothers are training in the yard with sword and shield, you may train with spoon and trencher. Tommen loves applecakes. Try not to let any sellswords make off with them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You speak tome thus? You?\"\n\n\"You should have died before you let Tommen betaken.\"\n\n\"As you died protecting Aerys, ser?\" Ser Boros lurched to his feet, and clasped the hilt of his sword. \"I won't... I won't suffer this. You should be the food taster, it seems tome. What else is a cripple good for?\"\n\nJaime smiled. \"I agree. I am as unfit to guard the king as you are. So draw that sword you're fondling, and we shall see how your two hands fare against my one. At the end one of us will be dead, and the Kingsguard will be improved.\" He rose. \"Or, if you prefer, you may return to your duties.\"\n\n\"Bah!\" Ser Boros hawked up a glob of green phlegm, spat it at Jaime's feet, and walked out, his sword still in its sheath.\n\nThe man is craven, and a good thing. Though fat, aging, and nevermore than ordinary, Ser Boros could still have hacked him into bloody pieces. But Boros does not know that, and neither must the rest. They feared the man I was; the man I am they'd pity.\n\nJaime seated himself again and turned to Kettleblack. \"Ser Osmund. I do not know you. I find that curious. I've fought in tourneys, mêlées, and battles throughout the Seven Kingdoms. I know of every hedge knight, freerider, and upjumped squire of any skill who has ever presumed to break a lance in the lists. So how is it that I have never heard of you, Ser Osmund?\"\n\n\"That I couldn't say, my lord.\" He had a great wide smile on his face, did Ser Osmund, as if he and Jaime were old comrades in arms playing some jolly little game. \"I'm a soldier, though, not no tourney knight.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where had you served, before my sister found you?\"\n\n\"Here and there, my lord.\"\n\n\"I have been to Oldtown in the south and Winterfell in the north. I have been to Lannisport in the west, and King's Landing in the east. But I have never been to Here. Nor There.\" For want of a finger, Jaime pointed his stump at Ser Osmund's beak of a nose. \"I will ask once more. Where have you served?\"\n\n\"In the Stepstones. Some in the Disputed Lands. There's always fighting there. I rode with the Gallant Men. We fought for Lys, and some for Tyrosh.\"\n\nYou fought for anyone who would pay you. \"How did you come by your knighthood?\"\n\n\"On a battlefield.\"\n\n\"Who knighted you?\"\n\n\"Ser Robert... Stone. He's dead now, my lord.\"\n\n\"To be sure.\" Ser Robert Stone might have been some bastard from the Vale, he supposed, selling his sword in the Disputed Lands. On the other hand, he might be no more than a name Ser Osmund cobbled together from a dead king and a castle wall. What was Cersei thinking when she gave this one a white cloak?\n\nAt least Kettleblack would likely know how to use a sword and shield. Sellswords were seldom the most honorable of men, but they had to have a certain skill at arms to stay alive. \"Very well, ser,\" Jaime said. \"You may go.\"\n\nThe man's grin returned. He left swaggering.\n\n\"Ser Meryn.\" Jaime smiled at the sour knight with the rust-red hair and the pouches under his eyes. \"I have heard it said that Joffrey made use of you to chastise Sansa Stark.\" He turned the White Book around one-handed. \"Here, show me where it is in our vows that we swear to beat women and children.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I did as His Grace commanded me."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We are sworn to obey.\"\n\n\"Henceforth you will temper that obedience. My sister is Queen Regent. My father is the King's Hand. I am Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Obey us. None other.\"\n\nSer Meryn got a stubborn look on his face. \"Are you telling us not to obey the king?\"\n\n\"The king is eight. Our first duty is to protect him, which includes protecting him from himself. Use that ugly thing you keep inside your helm. If Tommen wants you to saddle his horse, obey him. If he tells you to kill his horse, come tome.\"\n\n\"Aye. As you command, my lord.\"\n\n\"Dismissed.\" Ashe left, Jaime turned to Ser Balon Swann. \"Ser Balon, I have watched you tilt many a time, and fought with and against you in mêlées. I'm told you proved your valor a hundred times over during the Battle of the Blackwater. The Kingsguard is honored by your presence.\"\n\n\"The honor's mine, my lord.\" Ser Balon sounded wary.\n\n\"There is only one question I would put to you. You served us loyally, it's true... but Varys tells me that your brother rode with Renly and then Stannis, whilst your lord father chose not to call his banners at all and remained behind the walls of Stonehelm all through the fighting.\"\n\n\"My father is an old man, my lord. Well past forty. His fighting days are done.\"\n\n\"And your brother?\"\n\n\"Donnel was wounded in the battle and yielded to Ser Elwood Harte. He was ransomed afterward and pledged his fealty to King Joffrey, as did many other captives.\"\n\n\"So he did,\" said Jaime. \"Even so... Renly, Stannis, Joffrey, Tommen... how did he come to omit Balon Greyjoy and Robb Stark? He might have been the first knight in the realm to swear fealty to all six kings.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ser Balon's unease was plain."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Donnel erred, but he is Tommen's man now. You have my word.\"\n\n\"It's not Ser Donnel the Constant who concerns me. It's you.\" Jaime leaned forward. \"What will you do if brave Ser Donnel gives his sword to yet another usurper, and one day comes storming into the throne room? And there you stand all in white, between your king and your blood. What will you do?\"\n\n\"I... my lord, that will never happen.\"\n\n\"It happened tome,\" Jaime said.\n\nSwann wiped his brow with the sleeve of his white tunic.\n\n\"You have no answer?\"\n\n\"My lord.\" Ser Balon drew himself up. \"On my sword, on my honor, on my father's name, I swear... I shall not do as you did.\"\n\nJaime laughed. \"Good. Return to your duties... and tell Ser Donnel to add a weathervane to his shield.\"\n\nAnd then he was alone with the Knight of Flowers.\n\nSlim as a sword, lithe and fit, Ser Loras Tyrell wore a snowy linen tunic and white wool breeches, with a gold belt around his waist and a gold rose clasping his fine silk cloak. His hair was a soft brown tumble, and his eyes were brown as well, and bright with insolence. He thinks this is a tourney, and his tilt has just been called. \"Seventeen and a knight of the Kingsguard,\" said Jaime. \"You must be proud. Prince Aemon the Dragonknight was seventeen when he was named. Did you know that?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\"\n\n\"And did you know that I was fifteen?\"\n\n\"That as well, my lord.\" He smiled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jaime hated that smile. \"I was better than you, Ser Loras. I was bigger, I was stronger, and I was quicker.\"\n\n\"And now you're older,\" the boy said. \"My lord.\"\n\nHe had to laugh. This is too absurd. Tyrion would mock me unmercifully if he could hear me now, comparing cocks with this green boy. \"Older and wiser, ser. You should learn from me.\"\n\n\"As you learned from Ser Boros and Ser Meryn?\"\n\nThat arrow hit too close to the mark. \"I learned from the White Bull and Barristan the Bold,\" Jaime snapped. \"I learned from Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, who could have slain all five of you with his left hand while he was taking with a piss with the right. I learned from Prince Lewyn of Dorne and Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Jonothor Darry, good men everyone.\"\n\n\"Dead men, everyone.\"\n\nHe's me, Jaime realized suddenly. I am speaking to myself, as I was, all cocksure arrogance and empty chivalry. This is what it does to you, to be too good too young.\n\nAs in a swordfight, sometimes it is best to try a different stroke. \"It's said you fought magnificently in the battle... almost as well as Lord Renly's ghost beside you. A Sworn Brother has no secrets from his Lord Commander. Tell me, ser. Who was wearing Renly's armor?\"\n\nFora moment Loras Tyrell looked as though he might refuse, but in the end he remembered his vows. \"My brother,\" he said sullenly. \"Renly was taller than me, and broader in the chest. His armor was too loose on me, but it suited Garlan well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Was the masquerade your notion, or his?\"\n\n\"Lord Littlefinger suggested it. He said it would frighten Stannis's ignorant men-at-arms.\"\n\n\"And so it did.\" And some knights and lordlings too. \"Well, you gave the singers something to make rhymes about, I suppose that's not to be despised. What did you do with Renly?\"\n\n\"I buried him with mine own hands, in a place he showed me once when I was a squire at Storm's End. No one shall ever find him thereto disturb his rest.\" He looked at Jaime defiantly. \"I will defend King Tommen with all my strength, I swear it. I will give my life for his if need be. But I will never betray Renly, byword or deed. He was the king that should have been. He was the best of them.\"\n\nThe best dressed perhaps, Jaime thought, but for once he did not say it. The arrogance had gone out of Ser Loras the moment he began to speak of Renly. He answered truly. He is proud and reckless and full of piss, but he is not false. Not yet. \"As you say. One more thing, and you may return to your duties.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord?\"\n\n\"I still have Brienne of Tarth in a tower cell.\"\n\nThe boy's mouth hardened. \"A black cell would be better.\"\n\n\"You are certain that's what she deserves?\"\n\n\"She deserves death. I told Renly that a woman had no place in the Rainbow Guard. She won the mêlée with a trick.\"\n\n\"I seem to recall another knight who was fond of tricks. He once rode a mare in heat against a foe mounted on a bad-tempered stallion. What sort of trickery did Brienne use?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Loras flushed. \"She leapt... it makes no matter. She won, I grant her that. His Grace put a rainbow cloak around her shoulders. And she killed him. Or let him die.\"\n\n\"A large difference there.\" The difference between my crime and the shame of Boros Blount.\n\n\"She had sworn to protect him. Ser Emmon Cuy, Ser Robar Royce, Ser Parmen Crane, they'd sworn as well. How could anyone have hurt him, with her inside his tent and the others just outside? Unless they were part of it.\"\n\n\"There were five of you at the wedding feast,\" Jaime pointed out. \"How could Joffrey die? Unless you were part of it?\"\n\nSer Loras drew himself up stiffly. \"There was nothing we could have done.\"\n\n\"The wench says the same. She grieves for Renly as you do. I promise you, I never grieve for Aerys. Brienne's ugly, and pighead stubborn. But she lacks the wits to be a liar, and she is loyal past the point of sense. She swore an oath to bring me to King's Landing, and here I sit. This hand I lost... well, that was my doing as much as hers. Considering all she did to protect me, I have no doubt that she would have fought for Renly, had there been a foe to fight. But a shadow?\" Jaime shook his head. \"Draw your sword, Ser Loras. Show me how you'd fight a shadow. I should like to see that.\"\n\nSer Loras made no move to rise. \"She fled,\" he said. \"She and Catelyn Stark, they left him in his blood and ran. Why would they, if it was not their work?\" He stared at the table. \"Renly gave me the van. Otherwise it would have been me helping him don his armor. He often entrusted that task tome. We had... we had prayed together that night. I left him with her. Ser Parmen and Ser Emmon were guarding the tent, and Ser Robar Royce was there as well. Ser Emmon swore Brienne had... although...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes?\" Jaime prompted, sensing a doubt.\n\n\"The gorget was cut through. One clean stroke, through a steel gorget. Renly's armor was the best, the finest steel. How could she do that? I tried myself, and it was not possible. She's freakish strong fora woman, but even the Mountain would have needed a heavy axe. And why armor him and then cut his throat?\" He gave Jaime a confused look. \"If not her, though... how could it be a shadow?\"\n\n\"Ask her.\" Jaime came to a decision. \"Go to her cell. Ask your questions and hear her answers. If you are still convinced that she murdered Lord Renly, I will see that she answers for it. The choice will be yours. Accuse her, or release her. All I ask is that you judge her fairly, on your honor as a knight.\"\n\nSer Loras stood. \"I shall. On my honor.\"\n\n\"We are done, then.\"\n\nThe younger man started for the door. But there he turned back. \"Renly thought she was absurd. A woman dressed in man's mail, pretending to be a knight.\"\n\n\"If he'd ever seen her in pink satin and Myrish lace, he would not have complained.\"\n\n\"I asked him why he kept her close, if he thought her so grotesque. He said that all his other knights wanted things of him, castles or honors or riches, but all that Brienne wanted was to die for him. When I saw him all bloody, with her fled and the three of them unharmed... if she's innocent, then Robar and Emmon...\" He could not seem to say the words.\n\nJaime had not stopped to consider that aspect of it. \"I would have done the same, ser.\" The lie came easy, but Ser Loras seemed grateful for it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he was gone, the Lord Commander sat alone in the white room, wondering. The Knight of Flowers had been so mad with grief for Renly that he had cut down two of his own Sworn Brothers, but it had never occurred to Jaime to do the same with the five who had failed Joffrey. He was my son, my secret son... What am I, if I do not lift the hand I have left to avenge mine own blood and seed? He ought to kill Ser Boros at least, just to be rid of him.\n\nHe looked at his stump and grimaced. I must do something about that. If the late Ser Jacelyn Bywater could wear an iron hand, he should have a gold one. Cersei might like that. A golden hand to stroke her golden hair, and hold her hard against me.\n\nHis hand could wait, though. There were other things to tend to first. There were other debts to pay."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SANSA\n\nThe ladder to the forecastle was steep and splintery, so Sansa accepted a hand up from Lothor Brune. Ser Lothor, she had to remind herself; the man had been knighted for his valor in the Battle of the Blackwater. Though no proper knight would wear those patched brown breeches and scuffed boots, nor that cracked and water-stained leather jerkin. A square-faced stocky man with a squashed nose and a mat of nappy grey hair, Brune spoke seldom. He is stronger than he looks, though. She could tell by the ease with which he lifted her, as if she weighed nothing at all.\n\nOff the bow of the Merling King stretched a bare and stony strand, windswept, treeless, and uninviting. Even so, it made a welcome sight. They had been along while clawing their way back on course. The last storm had swept them out of sight of land, and sent such waves crashing over the sides of the galley that Sansa had been certain they were all going to drown. Two men had been swept overboard, she had heard old Oswell saying, and another had fallen from the mast and broken his neck.\n\nShe had seldom ventured out on deck herself. Her little cabin was dank and cold, but Sansa had been sick for most of the voyage... sick with terror, sick with fever, or seasick... she could keep nothing down, and even sleep came hard. Whenever she closed her eyes she saw Joffrey tearing at his collar, clawing at the soft skin of his throat, dying with flakes of piecrust on his lips and wine stains on his doublet. And the wind keening in the lines reminded her of the terrible thin sucking sound he'd made as he fought to draw in air. Sometimes she dreamed of Tyrion as well. \"He did nothing,\" she told Littlefinger once, when he paid a visit to her cabin to see if she were feeling any better."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"He did not kill Joffrey, true, but the dwarf's hands are far from clean."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had a wife before you, did you know that?\"\n\n\"He told me.\"\n\n\"And did he tell you that when he grew bored with her, he made a gift of her to his father's guardsmen? He might have done the same to you, in time. Shed no tears for the Imp, my lady.\"\n\nThe wind ran salty fingers through her hair, and Sansa shivered. Even this close to shore, the rolling of the ship made her tummy queasy. She desperately needed a bath and a change of clothes. I must look as haggard as a corpse, and smell of vomit.\n\nLord Petyr came up beside her, cheerful as ever. \"Good morrow. The salt air is bracing, don't you think? It always sharpens my appetite.\" He put a sympathetic arm about her shoulders. \"Are you quite well? You look so pale.\"\n\n\"It's only my tummy. The seasickness.\"\n\n\"A little wine will be good for that. We'll get you a cup, as soon as we're ashore.\" Petyr pointed to where an old flint tower stood outlined against a bleak grey sky, the breakers crashing on the rocks beneath it. \"Cheerful, is it not? I fear there's no safe anchorage here. We'll put ashore in a boat.\"\n\n\"Here?\" She did not want to go ashore here. The Fingers were a dismal place, she'd heard, and there was something forlorn and desolate about the little tower. \"Couldn't I stay on the ship until we make sail for White Harbor?\"\n\n\"From here the King turns east for Braavos. Without us.\"\n\n\"But... my lord, you said... you said we were sailing home.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And there it stands, miserable as it is. My ancestral home. It has no name, I fear. A great lord's seat ought to have a name, wouldn't you agree? Winterfell, the Eyrie, Riverrun, those are castles. Lord of Harrenhal now, that has a sweet ring to it, but what was I before? Lord of Sheepshit and Master of the Drearfort? It lacks a certain something.\" His grey-green eyes regarded her innocently. \"You look distraught. Did you think we were making for Winterfell, sweetling? Winterfell has been taken, burned, and sacked. All those you knew and loved are dead. What northmen who have not fallen to the ironmen are warring amongst themselves. Even the Wallis under attack. Winterfell was the home of your childhood, Sansa, but you are no longer a child. You're a woman grown, and you need to make your own home.\"\n\n\"But not here,\" she said, dismayed. \"It looks so...\"\n\n\"... small and bleak and mean? It's all that, and less. The Fingers area lovely place, if you happen to be a stone. But have no fear, we shan't stay more than a fortnight. I expect your aunt is already riding to meet us.\" He smiled. \"The Lady Lysa and I are to be wed.\"\n\n\"Wed?\" Sansa was stunned. \"You and my aunt?\"\n\n\"The Lord of Harrenhal and the Lady of the Eyrie.\"\n\nYou said it was my mother you loved. But of course Lady Catelyn was dead, so even if she had loved Petyr secretly and given him her maidenhood, it made no matter now.\n\n\"So silent, my lady?\" said Petyr. \"I was certain you would wish to give me your blessing. It is a rare thing fora boy born heir to stones and sheep pellets towed the daughter of Hoster Tully and the widow of Jon Arryn.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I... I pray you will have long years together, and many children, and be very happy in one another.\" It had been years since Sansa last saw her mother's sister. She will be kind tome for my mother's sake, surely. She's my own blood. And the Vale of Arryn was beautiful, all the songs said so. Perhaps it would not be so terrible to stay here fora time.\n\nLothor and old Oswell rowed them ashore. Sansa huddled in the bow under her cloak with the hood drawn up against the wind, wondering what awaited her. Servants emerged from the tower to meet them; a thin old woman and a fat middle-aged one, two ancient white-haired men, and a girl of two or three with a sty on one eye. When they recognized Lord Petyr they knelt on the rocks. \"My household,\" he said. \"I don't know the child. Another of Kella's bastards, I suppose. She pops one out every few years.\"\n\nThe two old men waded out up to their thighs to lift Sansa from the boat so she would not get her skirts wet. Oswell and Lothor splashed their way ashore, as did Littlefinger himself. He gave the old woman a kiss on the cheek and grinned at the younger one. \"Who fathered this one, Kella?\"\n\nThe fat woman laughed. \"I can't rightly say, m'lord. I'm not one for telling them no.\"\n\n\"And all the local lads are grateful, I am quite sure.\"\n\n\"It is good to have you home, my lord,\" said one old man. He looked to beat least eighty, but he wore a studded brigantine and a longsword at his side. \"How long will you be in residence?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As short a time as possible, Bryen, have no fear. Is the place habitable just now, would you say?\"\n\n\"If we knew you was coming we would have laid down fresh rushes, m'lord,\" said the crone. \"There's a dung fire burning.\"\n\n\"Nothing says homelike the smell of burning dung.\" Petyr turned to Sansa. \"Grisel was my wet nurse, but she keeps my castle now. Umfred's my steward, and Bryen-didn't I name you captain of the guard the last time I was here?\"\n\n\"You did, my lord. You said you'd begetting some more men too, but you never did. Me and the dogs stand all the watches.\"\n\n\"And very well, I'm sure. No one has made off with any of my rocks or sheep pellets, I see that plainly.\" Petyr gestured toward the fat woman. \"Kella minds my vast herds. How many sheep do I have at present, Kella?\"\n\nShe had to think a moment. \"Three and twenty, m'lord. There was nine and twenty, but Bryen's dogs killed one and we butchered some others and salted down the meat.\"\n\n\"Ah, cold salt mutton. I must be home. When I break my fast on gulls'eggs and seaweed soup, I'll be certain of it.\"\n\n\"If you like, m'lord,\" said the old woman Grisel.\n\nLord Petyr made a face. \"Come, let's see if my hall is as dreary as I recall.\" He led them up the strand over rocks slick with rotting seaweed. A handful of sheep were wandering about the base of the flint tower, grazing on the thin grass that grew between the sheepfold and thatched stable. Sansa had to step carefully; there were pellets everywhere."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Within, the tower seemed even smaller. An open stone stair wound round the inside wall, from undercroft to roof. Each floor was but a single room. The servants lived and slept in the kitchen at ground level, sharing the space with a huge brindled mastiff and a half-dozen sheep-dogs. Above that was a modest hall, and higher still the bedchamber. There were no windows, but arrowslits were embedded in the outer wall at intervals along the curve of the stair. Above the hearth hung a broken longsword and a battered oaken shield, its paint cracked and flaking.\n\nThe device painted on the shield was one Sansa did not know; a grey stone head with fiery eyes, upon alight greenfield. \"My grandfather's shield,\" Petyr explained when he saw her gazing at it. \"His own father was born in Braavos and came to the Vale as a sellsword in the hire of Lord Corbray, so my grandfather took the head of the Titan as his sigil when he was knighted.\"\n\n\"It's very fierce,\" said Sansa.\n\n\"Rather too fierce, for an amiable fellow like me,\" said Petyr. \"I much prefer my mockingbird.\"\n\nOswell made two more trips out to the Merling King to offload provisions. Among the loads he brought ashore were several casks of wine. Petyr poured Sansa a cup, as promised. \"Here, my lady, that should help your tummy, I would hope.\"\n\nHaving solid ground beneath her feet had helped already, but Sansa dutifully lifted the goblet with both hands and took a sip. The wine was very fine; an Arbor vintage, she thought. It tasted of oak and fruit and hot summer nights, the flavors blossoming in her mouth like flowers opening to the sun. She only prayed that she could keep it down. Lord Petyr was being so kind, she did not want to spoil it all by retching on him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was studying her over his own goblet, his bright grey-green eyes full of... was it amusement? Or something else? Sansa was not certain. \"Grisel,\" he called to the old woman, \"bring some food up. Nothing too heavy, my lady has a tender tummy. Some fruit might serve, perhaps. Oswell's brought some oranges and pomegranates from the King.\"\n\n\"Yes, m'lord.\"\n\n\"Might I have a hot bath as well?\" asked Sansa.\n\n\"I'll have Kella draw some water, m'lady.\"\n\nSansa took another sip of wine and tried to think of some polite conversation, but Lord Petyr saved her the effort. When Grisel and the other servants had gone, he said, \"Lysa will not come alone. Before she arrives, we must be clear on who you are.\"\n\n\"Who I... I don't understand.\"\n\n\"Varys has informers everywhere. If Sansa Stark should be seen in the Vale, the eunuch will know within a moon's turn, and that would create unfortunate... complications. It is not safe to be a Stark just now. So we shall tell Lysa's people that you are my natural daughter.\"\n\n\"Natural?\" Sansa was aghast. \"You mean, a bastard?\"\n\n\"Well, you can scarcely be my trueborn daughter. I've never taken a wife, that's well known. What should you be called?\"\n\n\"I... I could call myself after my mother...\"\n\n\"Catelyn? A bit too obvious... but after my mother, that would serve. Alayne. Do you like it?\"\n\n\"Alayne is pretty.\" Sansa hoped she would remember. \"But couldn't I be the trueborn daughter of some knight in your service? Perhaps he died gallantly in the battle, and...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I have no gallant knights in my service, Alayne."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Such a tale would draw unwanted questions as a corpse draws crows. It is rude to pry into the origins of a man's natural children, however.\" He cocked his head. \"So, who are you?\"\n\n\"Alayne... Stone, would it be?\" When he nodded, she said, \"But who is my mother?\"\n\n\"Kella?\"\n\n\"Please no,\" she said, mortified.\n\n\"I was teasing. Your mother was a gentlewoman of Braavos, daughter of a merchant prince. We met in Gulltown when I had charge of the port. She died giving you birth, and entrusted you to the Faith. I have some devotional books you can look over. Learn to quote from them. Nothing discourages unwanted questions as much as a flow of pious bleating. In any case, at your flowering you decided you did not wish to be a septa and wrote tome. That was the first I knew of your existence.\" He fingered his beard. \"Do you think you can remember all that?\"\n\n\"I hope. It will be like playing a game, won't it?\"\n\n\"Are you fond of games, Alayne?\"\n\nThe new name would take some getting used to. \"Games? I... I suppose it would depend...\"\n\nGrisel reappeared before he could say more, balancing a large platter. She set it down between them. There were apples and pears and pomegranates, some sad-looking grapes, a huge blood orange. The old woman had brought around of bread as well, and a crock of butter. Petyr cut a pomegranate in two with his dagger, offering half to Sansa. \"You should try and eat, my lady.\"\n\n\"Thank you, my lord.\" Pomegranate seeds were so messy; Sansa chose a pear instead, and took a small delicate bite. It was very ripe. The juice ran down her chin."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Petyr loosened a seed with the point of his dagger. \"You must miss your father terribly, I know. Lord Eddard was a brave man, honest and loyal... but quite a hopeless player.\" He brought the seed to his mouth with the knife. \"In King's Landing, there are two sorts of people. The players and the pieces.\"\n\n\"And I was apiece?\" She dreaded the answer.\n\n\"Yes, but don't let that trouble you. You're still half a child. Every man's apiece to start with, and every maid as well. Even some who think they are players.\" He ate another seed. \"Cersei, for one. She thinks herself sly, but in truth she is utterly predictable. Her strength rests on her beauty, birth, and riches. Only the first of those is truly her own, and it will soon desert her. I pity her then. She wants power, but has no notion what to do with it when she gets it. Everyone wants something, Alayne. And when you know what a man wants you know who he is, and how to move him.\"\n\n\"As you moved Ser Dontos to poison Joffrey?\" It had to have been Dontos, she had concluded.\n\nLittlefinger laughed. \"Ser Dontos the Red was a skin of wine with legs. He could never have been trusted with a task of such enormity. He would have bungled it or betrayed me. No, all Dontos had to do was lead you from the castle... and make certain you wore your silver hairnet.\"\n\nThe black amethysts. \"But... if not Dontos, who? Do you have other... pieces?\"\n\n\"You could turn King's Landing upside down and not find a single man with a mockingbird sewn over his heart, but that does not mean I am friendless.\" Petyr went to the steps. \"Oswell, come up here and let the Lady Sansa have a look at you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The old man appeared a few moments later, grinning and bowing."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sansa eyed him uncertainly. \"What am I supposed to see?\"\n\n\"Do you know him?\" asked Petyr.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Look closer.\"\n\nShe studied the old man's lined windburnt face, hook nose, white hair, and huge knuckly hands. There was something familiar about him, yet Sansa had to shake her head. \"I don't. I never saw Oswell before I got into his boat, I'm certain.\"\n\nOswell grinned, showing a mouth of crooked teeth. \"No, but m'lady might of met my three sons.\"\n\nIt was the'three sons,\" and that smile too. \"Kettleblack!\" Sansa's eyes went wide. \"You're a Kettleblack!\"\n\n\"Aye, m'lady, as it please you.\"\n\n\"She's beside herself with joy.\" Lord Petyr dismissed him with a wave, and returned to the pomegranate again as Oswell shuffled down the steps. \"Tell me, Alayne-which is more dangerous, the dagger brandished by an enemy, or the hidden one pressed to your back by someone you never even see?\"\n\n\"The hidden dagger.\"\n\n\"There's a clever girl.\" He smiled, his thin lips bright red from the pomegranate seeds. \"When the Imp sent off her guards, the queen had Ser Lancel hire sellswords for her. Lancel found her the Kettleblacks, which delighted your little lord husband, since the lads were in his pay through his man Bronn.\" He chuckled. \"But it was me who told Oswell to get his sons to King's Landing when I learned that Bronn was looking for swords. Three hidden daggers, Alayne, now perfectly placed.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"So one of the Kettleblacks put the poison in Joff's cup?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Osmund had been near the king all night, she remembered.\n\n\"Did I say that?\" Lord Petyr cut the blood orange in two with his dagger and offered half to Sansa. \"The lads are far too treacherous to be part of any such scheme... and Osmund has become especially unreliable since he joined the Kingsguard. That white cloak does things to a man, I find. Even a manlike him.\" He tilted his chin back and squeezed the blood orange, so the juice ran down into his mouth. \"I love the juice but I loathe the sticky fingers,\" he complained, wiping his hands. \"Clean hands, Sansa. Whatever you do, make certain your hands are clean.\"\n\nSansa spooned up some juice from her own orange. \"But if it wasn't the Kettleblacks and it wasn't Ser Dontos... you weren't even in the city, and it couldn't have been Tyrion...\"\n\n\"No more guesses, sweetling?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"I don't...\"\n\nPetyr smiled. \"I will wager you that at some point during the evening someone told you that your hairnet was crooked and straightened it for you.\"\n\nSansa raised a hand to her mouth. \"You cannot mean... she wanted to take me to Highgarden, to marry me to her grandson...\"\n\n\"Gentle, pious, good-hearted Willas Tyrell. Be grateful you were spared, he would have bored you spitless. The old woman is not boring, though, I'll grant her that. A fearsome old harridan, and not near as frail as she pretends. When I came to Highgarden to dicker for Margaery's hand, she let her lord son bluster while she asked pointed questions about Joffrey's nature. I praised him to the skies, to be sure... whilst my men spread disturbing tales amongst Lord Tyrell's servants. That is how the game is played."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I also planted the notion of Ser Loras taking the white. Not that I suggested it, that would have been too crude. But men in my party supplied grisly tales about how the mob had killed Ser Preston Greenfield and raped the Lady Lollys, and slipped a few silvers to Lord Tyrell's army of singers to sing of Ryam Redwyne, Serwyn of the Mirror Shield, and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. A harp can be as dangerous as a sword, in the right hands.\n\n\"Mace Tyrell actually thought it was his own idea to make Ser Loras's inclusion in the Kingsguard part of the marriage contract. Who better to protect his daughter than her splendid knightly brother? And it relieved him of the difficult task of trying to find lands and a bride fora third son, never easy, and doubly difficult in Ser Loras's case.\n\n\"Be that as it may. Lady Olenna was not about to let Joff harm her precious darling granddaughter, but unlike her son she also realized that under all his flowers and finery, Ser Loras is as hot-tempered as Jaime Lannister. Toss Joffrey, Margaery, and Loras in a pot, and you've got the makings for kingslayer stew. The old woman understood something else as well. Her son was determined to make Margaery a queen, and for that he needed a king... but he did not need Joffrey. We shall have another wedding soon, wait and see. Margaery will marry Tommen. She'll keep her queenly crown and her maidenhead, neither of which she especially wants, but what does that matter? The great western alliance will be preserved... fora time, at least.\"\n\nMargaery and Tommen. Sansa did not know what to say. She had liked Margaery Tyrell, and her small sharp grandmother as well. She thought wistfully of Highgarden with its courtyards and musicians, and the pleasure barges on the Mander; afar cry from this bleak shore. At least I am safe here. Joffrey is dead, he cannot hurt me anymore, and I am only a bastard girl now. Alayne Stone has no husband and no claim. And her aunt would soon be here as well. The long nightmare of King's Landing was behind her, and her mockery of a marriage as well. She could make herself anew home here, just as Petyr said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was eight long days until Lysa Arryn arrived."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "On five of them it rained, while Sansa sat bored and restless by the fire, beside the old blind dog. He was too sick and toothless to walk guard with Bryen anymore, and mostly all he did was sleep, but when she patted him he whined and licked her hand, and after that they were fast friends. When the rains letup, Petyr walked with her around his holdings, which took less than half a day. He owned a lot of rocks, just as he had said. There was one place where the tide came jetting up out of a blowhole to shoot thirty feet into the air, and another where someone had chiseled the seven-pointed star of the new gods upon a boulder. Petyr said that marked one of the places the Andals had landed, when they came across the sea to wrest the Vale from the First Men.\n\nFarther inland a dozen families lived in huts of piled stone beside a peat bog. \"Mine own smallfolk,\" Petyr said, though only the oldest seemed to know him. There was a hermit's cave on his land as well, but no hermit. \"He's dead now, but when I was a boy my father took me to see him. The man had not washed in forty years, so you can imagine how he smelled, but supposedly he had the gift of prophecy. He groped me a bit and said I would be a great man, and for that my father gave him a skin of wine.\" Petyr snorted. \"I would have told him the same thing for half a cup.\"\n\nFinally, on a grey windy afternoon, Bryen came running back to the tower with his dogs barking at his heels, to announce that riders were approaching from the southwest. \"Lysa,\" Lord Petyr said. \"Come, Alayne, let us greet her.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They put on their cloaks and waited outside. The riders numbered no more than a score; a very modest escort, for the Lady of the Eyrie. Three maids rode with her, and a dozen household knights in mail and plate. She brought a septon as well, and a handsome singer with a wisp of a mustache and long sandy curls.\n\nCould that be my aunt? Lady Lysa was two years younger than Mother, but this woman looked ten years older. Thick auburn tresses fell down past her waist, but beneath the costly velvet gown and jeweled bodice her body sagged and bulged. Her face was pink and painted, her breasts heavy, her limbs thick. She was taller than Littlefinger, and heavier; nor did she show any grace in the clumsy way she climbed down off her horse.\n\nPetyr knelt to kiss her fingers. \"The king's small council commanded me to woo and win you, my lady. Do you think you might have me for your lord and husband?\"\n\nLady Lysa pooched her lips and pulled him up to plant a kiss upon his cheek. \"Oh, mayhaps I could be persuaded.\" She giggled. \"Have you brought gifts to melt my heart?\"\n\n\"The king's peace.\"\n\n\"Oh, poo to the peace, what else have you brought me?\"\n\n\"My daughter.\" Littlefinger beckoned Sansa forward with a hand. \"My lady, allow me to present you Alayne Stone.\"\n\nLysa Arryn did not seem greatly pleased to see her. Sansa did a deep curtsy, her head bowed. \"A bastard?\" she heard her aunt say. \"Petyr, have you been wicked? Who washer mother?\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 70"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They put on their cloaks and waited outside. The riders numbered no more than a score; a very modest escort, for the Lady of the Eyrie. Three maids rode with her, and a dozen household knights in mail and plate. She brought a septon as well, and a handsome singer with a wisp of a mustache and long sandy curls.\n\nCould that be my aunt? Lady Lysa was two years younger than Mother, but this woman looked ten years older. Thick auburn tresses fell down past her waist, but beneath the costly velvet gown and jeweled bodice her body sagged and bulged. Her face was pink and painted, her breasts heavy, her limbs thick. She was taller than Littlefinger, and heavier; nor did she show any grace in the clumsy way she climbed down off her horse.\n\nPetyr knelt to kiss her fingers. \"The king's small council commanded me to woo and win you, my lady. Do you think you might have me for your lord and husband?\"\n\nLady Lysa pooched her lips and pulled him up to plant a kiss upon his cheek. \"Oh, mayhaps I could be persuaded.\" She giggled. \"Have you brought gifts to melt my heart?\"\n\n\"The king's peace.\"\n\n\"Oh, poo to the peace, what else have you brought me?\"\n\n\"My daughter.\" Littlefinger beckoned Sansa forward with a hand. \"My lady, allow me to present you Alayne Stone.\"\n\nLysa Arryn did not seem greatly pleased to see her. Sansa did a deep curtsy, her head bowed. \"A bastard?\" she heard her aunt say. \"Petyr, have you been wicked? Who washer mother?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The wench is dead. I'd hoped to take Alayne to the Eyrie.\"\n\n\"What am Ito do with her there?\"\n\n\"I have a few notions,\" said Lord Petyr. \"But just now I am more interested in what I might do with you, my lady.\"\n\nAll the sternness melted off her aunt's round pink face, and fora moment Sansa thought Lysa Arryn was about to cry. \"Sweet Petyr, I've missed you so, you don't know, you can't know. Yohn Royce has been stirring up all sorts of trouble, demanding that I call my banners and go to war. And the others all swarm around me, Hunter and Corbray and that dreadful Nestor Royce, all wanting towed me and take my son toward, but none of them truly love me. Only you, Petyr. I've dreamed of you so long.\"\n\n\"And I of you, my lady.\" He slid an arm around behind her and kissed heron the neck. \"How soon can we be wed?\"\n\n\"Now,\" said Lady Lysa, sighing. \"I've brought my own septon, and a singer, and mead for the wedding feast.\"\n\n\"Here?\" That did not please him. \"I'd sooner wed you at the Eyrie, with your whole court in attendance.\"\n\n\"Poo to my court. I have waited so long, I could not bear to wait another moment.\" She put her arms around him. \"I want to share your bed tonight, my sweet. I want us to make another child, a brother for Robert or a sweet little daughter.\"\n\n\"I dream of that as well, sweetling. Yet there is much to be gained from a great public wedding, with all the Vale-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She stamped afoot. \"I want you now, this very night. And I must warn you, after all these years of silence and whisperings, I mean to scream when you love me. I am going to scream so loud they'll hear me in the Eyrie!\"\n\n\"Perhaps I could bed you now, and wed you later?\"\n\nThe Lady Lysa giggled like a girl. \"Oh, Petyr Baelish, you are so wicked. No, I say no, I am the Lady of the Eyrie, and I command you towed me this very moment!\"\n\nPetyr gave a shrug. \"As my lady commands, then. I am helpless before you, as ever.\"\n\nThey said their vows within the hour, standing beneath a sky-blue canopy as the sun sank in the west. Afterward trestle tables were setup beneath the small flint tower, and they feasted on quail, venison, and roast boar, washing it down with a fine light mead. Torches were lit as dusk crept in. Lysa's singer played'The Vow Unspoken\" and'Seasons of My Love\" and'Two Hearts That Beat as One.\" Several younger knights even asked Sansa to dance. Her aunt danced as well, her skirts whirling when Petyr spun her in his arms. Mead and marriage had taken years off Lady Lysa. She laughed at everything so long as she held her husband's hand, and her eyes seemed to glow whenever she looked at him.\n\nWhen it was time for the bedding, her knights carried her up to the tower, stripping her as they went and shouting bawdy jests. Tyrion spared me that, Sansa remembered. It would not have been so bad being undressed fora man she loved, by friends who loved them both. By Joffrey, though... She shuddered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her aunt had brought only three ladies with her, so they pressed Sansa to help them undress Lord Petyr and march him up to his marriage bed. He submitted with good grace and a wicked tongue, giving as good as he got. By the time they had gotten him into the tower and out of his clothes, the other women were flushed, with laces unlaced, kirtles crooked, and skirts in disarray. But Littlefinger only smiled at Sansa as they marched him up to the bedchamber where his lady wife was waiting.\n\nLady Lysa and Lord Petyr had the third-story bedchamber to themselves, but the tower was small... and true to her word, her aunt screamed. It had begun to rain outside, driving the feasters into the hall one floor below, so they heard most every word. \"Petyr,\" her aunt moaned. \"Oh, Petyr, Petyr, sweet Petyr, oh oh oh. There, Petyr, there. That's where you belong.\" Lady Lysa's singer launched into a bawdy version of'Milady's Supper,\" but even his singing and playing could not drown out Lysa's cries. \"Make me a baby, Petyr,\" she screamed, \"make me another sweet little baby. Oh, Petyr, my precious, my precious, PEEEEEETYR!\" Her last shriek was so loud that it set the dogs to barking, and two of her aunt's ladies could scarce contain their mirth.\n\nSansa went down the steps and out into the night. Alight rain was falling on the remains of the feast, but the air smelled fresh and clean. The memory of her own wedding night with Tyrion was much with her. In the dark, I am the Knight of Flowers, he had said. I could be good to you. But that was only another Lannister lie. A dog can smell a lie, you know, the Hound had told her once. She could almost hear the rough rasp of his voice. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They're all liars here, and everyone better than you. She wondered what had become of Sandor Clegane. Did he know that they'd killed Joffrey? Would he care? He had been the prince's sworn shield for years."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She stayed outside fora longtime. When at last she sought her own bed, wet and chilled, only the dim glow of a peat fire lit the darkened hall. There was no sound from above. The young singer satin a corner, playing a slow song to himself. One of her aunt's maids was kissing a knight in Lord Petyr's chair, their hands busy beneath each other's clothing. Several men had drunk themselves to sleep, and one was in the privy, being noisily sick. Sansa found Bryen's old blind dog in her little alcove beneath the steps, and lay down next to him. He woke and licked her face. \"You sad old hound,\" she said, ruffling his fur.\n\n\"Alayne.\" Her aunt's singer stood over her. \"Sweet Alayne. I am Marillion. I saw you come in from the rain. The night is chill and wet. Let me warm you.\"\n\nThe old dog raised his head and growled, but the singer gave him a cuff and sent him slinking off, whimpering.\n\n\"Marillion?\" she said, uncertain. \"You are... kind to think of me, but... pray forgive me. I am very tired.\"\n\n\"And very beautiful. All night I have been making songs for you in my head. A lay for your eyes, a ballad for your lips, a duet to your breasts. I will not sing them, though. They were poor things, unworthy of such beauty.\" He sat on her bed and put his hand on her leg. \"Let me sing to you with my body instead.\"\n\nShe caught a whiff of his breath. \"You're drunk.\"\n\n\"I never get drunk. Mead only makes me merry. I am on fire.\" His hand slipped up to her thigh. \"And you as well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Unhand me."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You forget yourself.\"\n\n\"Mercy. I have been singing love songs for hours. My blood is stirred. And yours, I know... there's no wench half so lusty as one bastard born. Are you wet for me?\"\n\n\"I'm a maiden,\" she protested.\n\n\"Truly? Oh, Alayne, Alayne, my fair maid, give me the gift of your innocence. You will thank the gods you did. I'll have you singing louder than the Lady Lysa.\"\n\nSansa jerked away from him, frightened. \"If you don't leave me, my au-my father will hang you. Lord Petyr.\"\n\n\"Littlefinger?\" He chuckled. \"Lady Lysa loves me well, and I am Lord Robert's favorite. If your father offends me, I will destroy him with averse.\" He put a hand on her breast, and squeezed. \"Let's get you out of these wet clothes. You wouldn't want them ripped, I know. Come, sweet lady, heed your heart-\"\n\nSansa heard the soft sound of steel on leather. \"Singer,\" a rough voice said, \"best go, if you want to sing again.\" The light was dim, but she saw a faint glimmer of a blade.\n\nThe singer saw it too. \"Find your own wench-\" The knife flashed, and he cried out. \"You cut me!\"\n\n\"I'll do worse, if you don't go.\"\n\nAnd quick as that, Marillion was gone. The other remained, looming over Sansa in the darkness. \"Lord Petyr said watch out for you.\" It was Lothor Brune's voice, she realized. Not the Hound's, no, how could it be? Of course it had to be Lothor..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That night Sansa scarcely slept at all, but tossed and turned just as she had aboard the Merling King. She dreamt of Joffrey dying, but as he clawed at his throat and the blood ran down across his fingers she saw with horror that it washer brother Robb. And she dreamed of her wedding night too, of Tyrion's eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. \"I'll have a song from you,\" he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. \"I wish that you were Lady,\" she said.\n\nCome the morning, Grisel climbed up to the bedchamber to serve the lord and lady a tray of morning bread, with butter, honey, fruit, and cream. She returned to say that Alayne was wanted. Sansa was still drowsy from sleep. It took her a moment to remember that she was Alayne.\n\nLady Lysa was still abed, but Lord Petyr was up and dressed. \"Your aunt wishes to speak with you,\" he told Sansa, as he pulled on a boot. \"I've told her who you are.\"\n\nGods be good. \"I... I thank you, my lord.\"\n\nPetyr yanked on the other boot. \"I've had about as much home as I can stomach. We'll leave for the Eyrie this afternoon.\" He kissed his lady wife and licked a smear of honey off her lips, then headed down the steps.\n\nSansa stood by the foot of the bed while her aunt ate a pear and studied her. \"I see it now,\" the Lady Lysa said, as she set the core aside. \"You look so much like Catelyn.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's kind of you to say so.\"\n\n\"It was not meant as flattery. If truth be told, you look too much like Catelyn. Something must be done. We shall darken your hair before we bring you back to the Eyrie, I think.\"\n\nDarken my hair? \"If it please you, Aunt Lysa.\"\n\n\"You must not call me that. No word of your presence here must be allowed to reach King's Landing. I do not mean to have my son endangered.\" She nibbled the corner of a honeycomb. \"I have kept the Vale out of this war. Our harvest has been plentiful, the mountains protect us, and the Eyrie is impregnable. Even so, it would not do to draw Lord Tywin's wroth down upon us.\" Lysa set the comb down and licked honey from her fingers. \"You were wed to Tyrion Lannister, Petyr says. That vile dwarf.\"\n\n\"They made me marry him. I never wanted it.\"\n\n\"No more than I did,\" her aunt said. \"Jon Arryn was no dwarf, but he was old. You may not think so to see me now, but on the day we wed I was so lovely I put your mother to shame. But all Jon desired was my father's swords, to aid his darling boys. I should have refused him, but he was such an old man, how long could he live? Half his teeth were gone, and his breath smelled like bad cheese. I cannot abide a man with foul breath. Petyr's breath is always fresh... he was the first man I ever kissed, you know. My father said he was too lowborn, but I knew how high he'd rise. Jon gave him the customs for Gulltown to please me, but when he increased the incomes tenfold my lord husband saw how clever he was and gave him other appointments, even brought him to King's Landing to be master of coin. That was hard, to see him everyday and still be wed to that old cold man. Jon did his duty in the bedchamber, but he could no more give me pleasure than he could give me children. His seed was old and weak. All my babies died but Robert, three girls and two boys. All my sweet little babies dead, and that old man just went on and on with his stinking breath. So you see, I have suffered too.\" Lady Lysa sniffed. \"You do know that your poor mother is dead?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Tyrion told me,\" said Sansa."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He said the Freys murdered her at The Twins, with Robb.\"\n\nTears welled suddenly in Lady Lysa's eyes. \"We are women alone now, you and I. Are you afraid, child? Be brave. I would never turn away Cat's daughter. We are bound by blood.\" She beckoned Sansa closer. \"You may come kiss my cheek, Alayne.\"\n\nDutifully she approached and knelt beside the bed. Her aunt was drenched in sweet scent, though under that was a sour milky smell. Her cheek tasted of paint and powder.\n\nAs Sansa stepped back, Lady Lysa caught her wrist. \"Now tell me,\" she said sharply. \"Are you with child? The truth now, I will know if you lie.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, startled by the question.\n\n\"You area woman flowered, are you not?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Sansa knew the truth of her flowering could not belong hidden in the Eyrie. \"Tyrion didn't... he never...\" She could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. \"I am still a maid.\"\n\n\"Was the dwarf incapable?\"\n\n\"No. He was only... he was...\" Kind? She could not say that, not here, not to this aunt who hated him so. \"He... he had whores, my lady. He told me so.\"\n\n\"Whores.\" Lysa released her wrist. \"Of course he did. What woman would bed such a creature, but for gold? I should have killed the Imp when he was in my power, but he tricked me. He is full of low cunning, that one. His sellsword slew my good Ser Vardis Egen. Catelyn should not have brought him here, I told her that. She made off with our uncle too. That was wrong of her. The Blackfish was my Knight of the Gate, and since he left us the mountain clans are growing very bold. Petyr will soon set all that to rights, though. I shall make him Lord Protector of the Vale.\" Her aunt smiled for the first time, almost warmly. \"He may not look as tall or strong as some, but he is worth more than all of them. Trust in him and do as he says.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I shall, Aunt... my lady.\"\n\nLady Lysa seemed pleased by that. \"I knew that boy Joffrey. He used to call my Robert cruel names, and once he slapped him with a wooden sword. A man will tell you poison is dishonorable, but a woman's honor is different. The Mother shaped us to protect our children, and our only dishonor is in failure. You'll know that, when you have a child.\"\n\n\"A child?\" said Sansa, uncertainly.\n\nLysa waved a hand negligently. \"Not for many years. You are too young to be a mother. One day you shall want children, though. Just as you will want to marry.\"\n\n\"I... I am married, my lady.\"\n\n\"Yes, but soon a widow. Be glad the Imp preferred his whores. It would not befitting for my son to take that dwarf's leavings, but as he never touched you... How would you like to marry your cousin, the Lord Robert?\"\n\nThe thought made Sansa weary. All she knew of Robert Arryn was that he was a little boy, and sickly. It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love. But lying came easy to her now. \"I... can scarcely wait to meet him, my lady. But he is still a child, is he not?\"\n\n\"He is eight. And not robust. But such a good boy, so bright and clever. He will be a great man, Alayne. The seed is strong, my lord husband said before he died. His last words. The gods sometimes let us glimpse the future as we lay dying. I see no reason why you should not be wed as soon as we know that your Lannister husband is dead. A secret wedding, to be sure. The Lord of the Eyrie could scarcely bethought to have married a bastard, that would not befitting. The ravens should bring us the word from King's Landing once the Imp's head rolls. You and Robert can be wed the next day, won't that be joyous? It will be good for him to have a little companion. He played with Vardis Egen's boy when we first returned to the Eyrie, and my steward's sons as well, but they were much too rough and I had no choice but to send them away. Do you read well, Alayne?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Septa Mordane was good enough to say so.\"\n\n\"Robert has weak eyes, but he loves to be read to,\" Lady Lysa confided. \"He likes stories about animals the best. Do you know the little song about the chicken who dressed as a fox? I sing him that all the time, he never grows tired of it. And he likes to play hopfrog and spin-the-sword and come-into-my-castle, but you must always let him win. That's only proper, don't you think? He is the Lord of the Eyrie, after all, you must never forget that. You are well born, and the Starks of Winterfell were always proud, but Winterfell has fallen and you are really just a beggar now, so put that pride aside. Gratitude will better become you, in your present circumstances. Yes, and obedience. My son will have a grateful and obedient wife.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JON\n\nDay and night the axes rang.\n\nJon could not remember the last time he had slept. When he closed his eyes he dreamed of fighting; when he woke he fought. Even in the King's Tower he could hear the ceaseless thunk of bronze and flint and stolen steel biting into wood, and it was louder when he tried to rest in the warming shed atop the Wall. Mance had sledgehammers at work as well, and long saws with teeth of bone and flint. Once, as he was drifting off into an exhausted sleep, there came a great cracking from the haunted forest, and a sentinel tree came crashing down in a cloud of dirt and needles.\n\nHe was awake when Owen came to him, lying restless under a pile of furs on the floor of the warming shed. \"Lord Snow,\" said Owen, shaking his shoulder, \"the dawn.\" He gave Jon a hand to help pull him back onto his feet. Others were waking as well, jostling one another as they pulled on their boots and buckled their swordbelts in the close confines of the shed. No one spoke. They were all too tired for talk. Few of them ever left the Wall these days. It took too long to ride up and down in the cage. Castle Black had been abandoned to Maester Aemon, Ser Wynton Stout, and a few others too old or ill to fight.\n\n\"I had a dream that the king had come,\" Owen said happily. \"Maester Aemon sent a raven, and King Robert came with all his strength. I dreamed I saw his golden banners.\"\n\nJon made himself smile. \"That would be a welcome sight to see, Owen.\" Ignoring the twinge of pain in his leg, he swept a black fur cloak about his shoulders, gathered up his crutch, and went out onto the Wall to face another day."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A gust of wind sent icy tendrils wending through his long brown hair. Half a mile north, the wildling encampments were stirring, their campfires sending up smoky fingers to scratch against the pale dawn sky. Along the edge of the forest they had raised their tents of hide and fur, even a crude longhall of logs and woven branches; there were horselines to the east, mammoths to the west, and men everywhere, sharpening their swords, putting points on crude spears, donning makeshift armor of hide and horn and bone. For every man that he could see, Jon knew there were a score unseen in the wood. The brush gave them some shelter from the elements and hid them from the eyes of the hated crows.\n\nAlready their archers were stealing forward, pushing their rolling mantlets. \"Here come our breakfast arrows,\" Pyp announced cheerfully, as he did every morning. It's good that he can make a jape of it, Jon thought. Someone has to. Three days ago, one of those breakfast arrows had caught Red Alyn of the Rosewood in the leg. You could still see his body at the foot of the Wall, if you cared to lean out far enough. Jon had to think that it was better for them to smile at Pyp's jest than to brood over Alyn's corpse.\n\nThe mantlets were slanting wooden shields, wide enough for five of the free folk to hide behind. The archers pushed them close, then knelt behind them to loose their arrows through slits in the wood. The first time the wildlings rolled them out, Jon had called for fire arrows and set a half-dozen ablaze, but after that Mance started covering them with raw hides. All the fire arrows in the world couldn't make them catch now. The brothers had even started wagering as to which of the straw sentinels would collect the most arrows before they were done. Dolorous Edd was leading with four, but Othell Yarwyck, Tumberjon, and Watt of Long Lake had three apiece. It was Pyp who'd started naming the scarecrows after their missing brothers, too. \"It makes it seem as if there's more of us,\" he said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"More of us with arrows in our bellies,\" Grenn complained, but the custom did seem to give his brothers heart, so Jon let the names stand and the wagering continue.\n\nOn the edge of the Wall an ornate brass Myrish eye stood on three spindly legs. Maester Aemon had once used it to peer at the stars, before his own eyes had failed him. Jon swung the tube down to have a look at the foe. Even at this distance there was no mistaking Mance Rayder's huge white tent, sewn together from the pelts of snow bears. The Myrish lenses brought the wildlings close enough for him to make outfaces. Of Mance himself he saw no sign this morning, but his woman Dalla was outside tending the fire, while her sister Val milked a she-goat beside the tent. Dalla looked so big it was a wonder she could move. The child must becoming very soon, Jon thought. He swiveled the eye east and searched amongst the tents and trees till he found the turtle. That will becoming very soon as well. The wildlings had skinned one of the dead mammoths during the night, and they were lashing the raw bloody hide over the turtle's roof, one more layer on top of the sheepskins and pelts. The turtle had a rounded top and eight huge wheels, and under the hides was a stout wooden frame. When the wildlings had begun knocking it together, Satin thought they were building a ship. Not far wrong. The turtle was a hull turned upside down and opened fore and aft; a longhall on wheels.\n\n\"It's done, isn't it?\" asked Grenn.\n\n\"Near enough.\" Jon shoved away the eye. \"It will come today, most like. Did you fill the barrels?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Everyone."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They froze hard during the night, Pyp checked.\"\n\nGrenn had changed a great deal from the big, clumsy, red-necked boy Jon had first befriended. He had grown half afoot, his chest and shoulders had thickened, and he had not cut his hair nor trimmed his beard since the Fist of the First Men. It made him look as huge and shaggy as an aurochs, the mocking name that Ser Alliser Thorne had hung on him during training. He looked weary now, though. When Jon said as much, he nodded. \"I heard their axes all night. Couldn't sleep for all the chopping.\"\n\n\"Then go sleep now.\"\n\n\"I don't need-\"\n\n\"You do. I want you rested. Goon, I'm not going to let you sleep through the fight.\" He made himself smile. \"You're the only one who can move those bloody barrels.\"\n\nGrenn went off muttering, and Jon returned to the far eye, searching the wildling camp. From time to time an arrow would sail past overhead, but he had learned to ignore those. The range was long and the angle was bad, the chances of being hit were small. He still saw no sign of Mance Rayder in the camp, but he spied Tormund Giantsbane and two of his sons around the turtle. The sons were struggling with the mammoth hide while Tormund gnawed on the roast leg of a goat and bellowed orders. Elsewhere he found the wildling skinchanger, Varamyr Sixskins, walking through the trees with his shadowcat dogging his heels.\n\nWhen he heard the rattle of the winch chains and the iron groan of the cage door opening, he knew it would be Hobb bringing their breakfast as he did every morning. The sight of Mance's turtle had robbed Jon of his appetite. Their oil was all but gone, and the last barrel of pitch had been rolled off the Wall two nights ago. They would soon run short of arrows as well, and there were no fletchers making more. And the night before last, a raven had come from the west, from Ser Denys Mallister. Bowen Marsh had chased the wildlings all the way to the Shadow Tower, it seemed, and then farther, down into the gloom of the Gorge. At the Bridge of Skulls he had met the Weeper and three hundred wildlings and won a bloody battle. But the victory had been a costly one. More than a hundred brothers slain, among them Ser Endrew Tarth and Ser Aladale Wynch. The Old Pomegranate himself had been carried back to the Shadow Tower sorely wounded. Maester Mullin was tending him, but it would be sometime before he was fit to return to Castle Black."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he had read that, Jon had dispatched Zei to Mole's Town on their best horse to plead with the villagers to help man the Wall. She never returned. When he sent Mully after her, he came back to report the whole village deserted, even the brothel. Most likely Zei had followed them, straight down the kingsroad. Maybe we should all do the same, Jon reflected glumly.\n\nHe made himself eat, hungry or no. Bad enough he could not sleep, he could not goon without food as well. Besides, this might be my last meal. It might be the last meal for all of us. So it was that Jon had a belly full of bread, bacon, onions, and cheese when he heard Horse shout, \"IT'S COMING!\"\n\nNo one needed to ask what'it\" was. Nor did Jon need the maester's Myrish eye to see it creeping out from amongst the tents and trees. \"It doesn't really look much like a turtle,\" Satin commented. \"Turtles don't have fur.\"\n\n\"Most of them don't have wheels either,\" said Pyp.\n\n\"Sound the warhorn,\" Jon commanded, and Kegs blew two long blasts, to wake Grenn and the other sleepers who'd had the watch during the night. If the wildlings were coming, the Wall would need every man. Gods know, we have few enough. Jon looked at Pyp and Kegs and Satin, Horse and Owen the Oaf, Tim Tangletongue, Mully, Spare Boot, and the rest, and tried to imagine them going belly to belly and blade to blade against a hundred screaming wildlings in the freezing darkness of that tunnel, with only a few iron bars between them. That was what it would comedown to, unless they could stop the turtle before the gate was breached."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's big,\" Horse said.\n\nPyp smacked his lips. \"Think of all the soup it will make.\" The jape was stillborn. Even Pyp sounded tired. He looks half dead, thought Jon, but so do we all. The King-beyond-the-Wall had so many men that he could throw fresh attackers at them every time, but the same handful of black brothers had to meet every assault, and it had worn them ragged.\n\nThe men beneath the wood and hides would be pulling hard, Jon knew, putting their shoulders into it, straining to keep the wheels turning, but once the turtle was flush against the gate they would exchange their ropes for axes. At least Mance was not sending his mammoths today. Jon was glad of that. Their awesome strength was wasted on the Wall, and their size only made them easy targets. The last had been a day and a half in the dying, its mournful trumpetings terrible to hear.\n\nThe turtle crept slowly through stones and stumps and brush. The earlier attacks had cost the free folk a hundred lives or more. Most still lay where they had fallen. In the lulls the crows would come and pay them court, but now the birds fled screeching. They liked the look of that turtle no more than he did.\n\nSatin, Horse, and the others were looking to him, Jon knew, waiting for his orders. He was so tired, he hardly knew anymore. The Wallis mine, he reminded himself. \"Owen, Horse, to the catapults. Kegs, you and Spare Boot on the scorpions. The rest of you string your bows. Fire arrows. Let's see if we can burn it.\" It was likely to be a futile gesture, Jon knew, but it had to be better than standing helpless."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cumbersome and slow-moving, the turtle made for an easy shot, and his archers and crossbowmen soon turned it into a lumbering wooden hedgehog... but the wet hides protected it, just as they had the mantlets, and the flaming arrows guttered out almost as soon as they struck. Jon cursed under his breath. \"Scorpions,\" he commanded. \"Catapults.\"\n\nThe scorpions bolts punched deep into the pelts, but did no more damage than the fire arrows. The rocks went bouncing off the turtle's roof, leaving dimples in the thick layers of hides. A stone from one of the trebuchets might have crushed it, but the one machine was still broken, and the wildlings had gone wide around the area where the other dropped its loads.\n\n\"Jon, it's still coming,\" said Owen the Oaf.\n\nHe could see that for himself. Inch by inch, yard by yard, the turtle crept closer, rolling, rumbling and rocking as it crossed the killing ground. Once the wildlings got it flush against the Wall, it would give them all the shelter they needed while their axes crashed through the hastily-repaired outer gates. Inside, under the ice, they would clear the loose rubble from the tunnel in a matter of hours, and then there would be nothing to stop them but two iron gates, a few half-frozen corpses, and whatever brothers Jon cared to throw in their path, to fight and die down in the dark.\n\nTo his left, the catapult made a thunk and filled the air with spinning stones. They plonked down on the turtle like hail, and caromed harmlessly aside. The wildling archers were still loosing arrows from behind their mantlets. One thudded into the face of a straw man, and Pyp said, \"Four for Watt of Long Lake! We have a tie!\" The next shaft whistled past his own ear, however. \"Fie!\" he shouted down. \"I'm not in the tourney!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The hides won't burn,\" Jon said, as much to himself as to the others. Their only hope was to try and crush the turtle when it reached the Wall. For that, they needed boulders. No matter how stoutly built the turtle was, a huge chunk of rock crashing straight down on top of it from seven hundred feet was bound to do some damage. \"Grenn, Owen, Kegs, it's time.\"\n\nAlongside the warming shed a dozen stout oaken barrels were lined up in a row. They were full of crushed rock; the gravel that the black brothers customarily spread on the footpaths to give themselves better footing atop the Wall. Yesterday, after he'd seen the free folk covering the turtle with sheepskins, Jon told Grenn to pour water into the barrels, as much as they would take. The water would seep down through the crushed stone, and overnight the whole thing would freeze solid. It was the nearest thing to a boulder they were going to get.\n\n\"Why do we need to freeze it?\" Grenn had asked him. \"Why don't we just roll the barrels off the way they are?\"\n\nJon answered, \"If they crash against the Wall on the way down they'll burst, and loose gravel will spray everywhere. We don't want to rain pebbles on the whoresons.\"\n\nHe put his shoulder to the one barrel with Grenn, while Kegs and Owen were wrestling with another. Together they rocked it back and forth to break the grip of the ice that had formed around its bottom. \"The bugger weighs a ton,\" said Grenn.\n\n\"Tip it over and roll it,\" Jon said. \"Careful, if it rolls over your foot you'll end up like Spare Boot.\"\n\nOnce the barrel was on its side, Jon grabbed a torch and waved it above the surface of the Wall, back and forth, just enough to melt the ice a little. The thin film of water helped the barrel roll more easily. Too easily, in fact; they almost lost it. But finally, with four of them pooling their efforts, they rolled their boulder to the edge and stood it up again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had four of the big oak barrels lined up above the gate by the time Pyp shouted, \"There's a turtle at our door!\" Jon braced his injured leg and leaned out fora look. Hoardings, Marsh should have built hoardings. So many things they should have done. The wildlings were dragging the dead giants away from the gate. Horse and Mully were dropping rocks down on them, and Jon thought he saw one mango down, but the stones were too small to have any effect on the turtle itself. He wondered what the free folk would do about the dead mammoth in the path, but then he saw. The turtle was almost as wide as a longhall, so they simply pushed it over the carcass. His leg twitched, but Horse caught his arm and drew him back to safety. \"You shouldn't lean out like that,\" the boy said.\n\n\"We should have built hoardings.\" Jon thought he could hear the crash of axes on wood, but that was probably just fear ringing in his ears. He looked to Grenn. \"Do it.\"\n\nGrenn got behind a barrel, put his shoulder against it, grunted, and began to push. Owen and Mully moved to help him. They shoved the barrel out afoot, and then another. And suddenly it was gone.\n\nThey heard the thump as it struck the Wall on the way down, and then, much louder, the crash and crack of splintering wood, followed by shouts and screams. Satin whooped and Owen the Oaf danced in circles, while Pyp leaned out and called, \"The turtle was stuffed full of rabbits! Look at them hop away!\"\n\n\"Again,\" Jon barked, and Grenn and Kegs slammed their shoulders against the next barrel, and sent it tottering out into empty air."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "By the time they were done, the front of Mance's turtle was a crushed and splintered ruin, and wildlings were spilling out the other end and scrambling for their camp. Satin scooped up his crossbow and sent a few quarrels after them as they ran, to see them off the faster. Grenn was grinning through his beard, Pyp was making japes, and none of them would die today.\n\nOn the morrow, though... Jon glanced toward the shed. Eight barrels of gravel remained where twelve had stood a few moments before. He realized how tired he was then, and how much his wound was hurting. I need to sleep. A few hours, at least. He could go to Maester Aemon for some dreamwine, that would help. \"I am going down to the King's Tower,\" he told them. \"Call me if Mance gets up to anything. Pyp, you have the Wall.\"\n\n\"Me?\" said Pyp.\n\n\"Him?\" said Grenn.\n\nSmiling, he left them to it and rode down in the cage.\n\nA cup of dreamwine did help, as it happened. No sooner had he stretched out on the narrow bed in his cell than sleep took him. His dreams were strange and formless, full of strange voices, shouts and cries, and the sound of a warhorn, blowing low and loud, a single deep booming note that lingered in the air.\n\nWhen he awoke the sky was black outside the arrow slit that served him fora window, and four men he did not know were standing over him. One held a lantern. \"Jon Snow,\" the tallest of them said brusquely, \"pull on your boots and come with us.\"\n\nHis first groggy thought was that somehow the Wall had fallen whilst he slept, that Mance Rayder had sent more giants or another turtle and broken through the gate. But when he rubbed his eyes he saw that the strangers were all in black. They're men of the Night's Watch, Jon realized. \"Come where? Who are you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The tall man gestured, and two of the others pulled Jon from the bed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With the lantern leading the way they marched him from his cell and up a half turn of stair, to the Old Bear's solar. He saw Maester Aemon standing by the fire, his hands folded around the head of a blackthorn cane. Septon Cellador was half drunk as usual, and Ser Wynton Stout was asleep in a window seat. The other brothers were strangers to him. All but one.\n\nImmaculate in his fur-trimmed cloak and polished boots, Ser Alliser Thorne turned to say, \"Here's the turncloak now, my lord. Ned Stark's bastard, of Winterfell.\"\n\n\"I'm no turncloak, Thorne,\" Jon said coldly.\n\n\"We shall see.\" In the leather chair behind the table where the Old Bear wrote his letters sat a big, broad, jowly man Jon did not know. \"Yes, we shall see,\" he said again. \"You will not deny that you are Jon Snow, I hope? Stark's bastard?\"\n\n\"Lord Snow, he likes to call himself.\" Ser Alliser was a spare, slim man, compact and sinewy, and just now his flinty eyes were dark with amusement.\n\n\"You're the one who named me Lord Snow,\" said Jon. Ser Alliser had been fond of naming the boys he trained, during his time as Castle Black's master-at-arms. The Old Bear had sent Thorne to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. These others must be Eastwatch men. The bird reached Cotter Pyke and he's sent us help. \"How many men have you brought?\" he asked the man behind the table.\n\n\"It's me who'll ask the questions,\" the jowly man replied. \"You've been charged with oathbreaking, cowardice, and desertion, Jon Snow. Do you deny that you abandoned your brothers to die on the Fist of the First Men and joined the wildling Mance Rayder, this self-styled King-beyond-the-Wall?\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Abandoned...?\" Jon almost choked on the word.\n\nMaester Aemon spoke up then. \"My lord, Donal Noye and I discussed these issues when Jon Snow first returned to us, and were satisfied by Jon's explanations.\"\n\n\"Well, I am not satisfied, Maester,\" said the jowly man. \"I will hear these explanations for myself. Yes I will!\"\n\nJon swallowed his anger. \"I abandoned no one. I left the Fist with Qhorin Halfhand to scout the Skirling Pass. I joined the wildlings under orders. The Halfhand feared that Mance might have found the Horn of Winter...\"\n\n\"The Horn of Winter?\" Ser Alliser chuckled. \"Were you commanded to count their snarks as well, Lord Snow?\"\n\n\"No, but I counted their giants as best I could.\"\n\n\"Ser,\" snapped the jowly man. \"You will address Ser Alliser as ser, and myself as m'lord. I am Janos Slynt, Lord of Harrenhal, and commander here at Castle Black until such time as Bowen Marsh returns with his garrison. You will grant us our courtesies, yes. I will not suffer to hear an anointed knight like the good Ser Alliser mocked by a traitor's bastard.\" He raised a hand and pointed a meaty finger at Jon's face. \"Do you deny that you took a wildling woman into your bed?\"\n\n\"No.\" Jon's grief over Ygritte was too fresh for him to deny her now. \"No, my lord.\"\n\n\"I suppose it was also the Halfhand who commanded you to fuck this unwashed whore?\" Ser Alliser asked with a smirk.\n\n\"Ser. She was no whore, ser. The Halfhand told me not to balk, whatever the wildlings asked of me, but... I will not deny that I went beyond what I had to do, that I... cared for her.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You admit to being an oathbreaker, then,\" said Janos Slynt.\n\nHalf the men at Castle Black visited Mole's Town from time to time to dig for buried treasures in the brothel, Jon knew, but he would not dishonor Ygritte by equating her with the Mole's Town whores. \"I broke my vows with a woman. I admit that. Yes.\"\n\n\"Yes, m'lord!\" When Slynt scowled, his jowls quivered. He was as broad as the Old Bear had been, and no doubt would be as bald if he lived to Mormont's age. Half his hair was gone already, though he could not have been more than forty.\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" Jon said. \"I rode with the wildlings and ate with them, as the Halfhand commanded me, and I shared my furs with Ygritte. But I swear to you, I never turned my cloak. I escaped the Magnar as soon as I could, and never took up arms against my brothers or the realm.\"\n\nLord Slynt's small eyes studied him. \"Ser Glendon,\" he commanded, \"bring in the other prisoner.\"\n\nSer Glendon was the tall man who had dragged Jon from his bed. Four other men went with him when he left the room, but they were back soon enough with a captive, a small, sallow, battered man fettered hand and foot. He had a single eyebrow, a widow's peak, and a mustache that looked like a smear of dirt on his upper lip, but his face was swollen and mottled with bruises, and most of his front teeth had been knocked out.\n\nThe Eastwatch men threw the captive roughly to the floor. Lord Slynt frowned down at him. \"Is this the one you spoke of?\""
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"value": "The captive blinked yellow eyes. \"Aye.\" Not until that instant did Jon recognize Rattleshirt. He is a different man without his armor, he thought. \"Aye,\" the wildling repeated, \"he's the craven killed the Halfhand. Up in the Frostfangs, it were, after we hunted down t'other crows and killed them, everyone. We would have done for this one too, only he begged f'his worthless life, offered t\" join us if we'd have him. The Halfhand swore he'd seethe craven dead first, but the wolf ripped Qhorin half t' pieces and this one opened his throat.\" He gave Jon a cracktooth smile then, and spat blood on his foot.\n\n\"Well?\" Janos Slynt demanded of Jon harshly. \"Do you deny it? Or will you claim Qhorin commanded you to kill him?\"\n\n\"He told me...\" The words came hard. \"He told me to do whatever they asked of me.\"\n\nSlynt looked about the solar, at the other Eastwatch men. \"Does this boy think I fell off a turnip wagon onto my head?\"\n\n\"Your lies won't save you now, Lord Snow,\" warned Ser Alliser Thorne. \"We'll have the truth from you, bastard.\"\n\n\"I've told you the truth. Our garrons were failing, and Rattleshirt was close behind us. Qhorin told me to pretend to join the wildlings.\" You must not balk, whatever is asked of you, ' he said. He knew they would make me kill him. Rattleshirt was going to kill him anyway, he knew that too.\"\n\n\"So now you claim the great Qhorin Halfhand feared this creature?\" Slynt looked at Rattleshirt, and snorted."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"All men fear the Lord o' Bones,\" the wildling grumbled. Ser Glendon kicked him, and he lapsed back into silence.\n\n\"I never said that,\" Jon insisted.\n\nSlynt slammed a fist on the table. \"I heard you! Ser Alliser had your measure true enough, it seems. You lie through your bastard's teeth. Well, I will not suffer it. I will not! You might have fooled this crippled blacksmith, but not Janos Slynt! Oh, no. Janos Slynt does not swallow lies so easily. Did you think my skull was stuffed with cabbage?\"\n\n\"I don't know what your skull is stuffed with. My lord.\"\n\n\"Lord Snow is nothing if not arrogant,\" said Ser Alliser. \"He murdered Qhorin just as his fellow turncloaks did Lord Mormont. It would not surprise me to learn that it was all part of the same fell plot. Benjen Stark may well have a hand in all this as well. For all we know, he is sitting in Mance Rayder's tent even now. You know these Starks, my lord.\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Janos Slynt. \"I know them too well.\"\n\nJon peeled off his glove and showed them his burned hand. \"I burned my hand defending Lord Mormont from a wight. And my uncle was a man of honor. He would never have betrayed his vows.\"\n\n\"No more than you?\" mocked Ser Alliser.\n\nSepton Cellador cleared his throat. \"Lord Slynt,\" he said, \"this boy refused to swear his vows properly in the sept, but went beyond the Wall to say his words before a heart tree. His father's gods, he said, but they are wildling gods as well.\""
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"value": "\"They are the gods of the north, Septon.\" Maester Aemon was courteous, but firm. \"My lords, when Donal Noye was slain, it was this young man Jon Snow who took the Wall and held it, against all the fury of the north. He has proved himself valiant, loyal, and resourceful. Were it not for him, you would have found Mance Rayder sitting here when you arrived, Lord Slynt. You are doing him a great wrong. Jon Snow was Lord Mormont's own steward and squire. He was chosen for that duty because the Lord Commander saw much promise in him. As do I.\"\n\n\"Promise?\" said Slynt. \"Well, promise may turn false. Qhorin Halfhand's blood is on his hands. Mormont trusted him, you say, but what of that? I know what it is to be betrayed by men you trusted. Oh, yes. And I know the ways of wolves as well.\" He pointed at Jon's face. \"Your father died a traitor.\"\n\n\"My father was murdered.\" Jon was past caring what they did to him, but he would not suffer anymore lies about his father.\n\nSlynt purpled. \"Murder? You insolent pup. King Robert was not even cold when Lord Eddard moved against his son.\" He rose to his feet; a shorter man than Mormont, but thick about the chest and arms, with a gut to match. A small gold spear tipped with red enamel pinned his cloak at the shoulder. \"Your father died by the sword, but he was highborn, a King's Hand. For you, a noose will serve. Ser Alliser, take this turncloak to an ice cell.\"\n\n\"My lord is wise.\" Ser Alliser seized Jon by the arm."
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon yanked away and grabbed the knight by the throat with such ferocity that he lifted him off the floor. He would have throttled him if the Eastwatch men had not pulled him off. Thorne staggered back, rubbing the marks Jon's fingers had left on his neck. \"You see for yourselves, brothers. The boy is a wildling.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "TYRION\n\nWhen dawn broke, he found he could not face the thought of food. By evenfall I may stand condemned. His belly was acid with bile, and his nose itched. Tyrion scratched at it with the point of his knife. One last witness to endure, then my turn. But what to do? Deny everything? Accuse Sansa and Ser Dontos? Confess, in the hope of spending the rest of his days on the Wall? Let the dice fly and pray the Red Viper could defeat Ser Gregor Clegane?\n\nTyrion stabbed listlessly at a greasy grey sausage, wishing it were his sister. It is bloody cold on the Wall, but at least I would be shut of Cersei. He did not think he would make much of a ranger, but the Night's Watch needed clever men as well as strong ones. Lord Commander Mormont had said as much, when Tyrion had visited Castle Black. There are those inconvenient vows, though. It would mean the end of his marriage and whatever claim he might ever have made for Casterly Rock, but he did not seem destined to enjoy either in any case. And he seemed to recall that there was a brothel in a nearby village.\n\nIt was not a life he'd ever dreamed of, but it was life. And all he had to do to earn it was trust in his father, stand upon his little stunted legs, and say, \"Yes, I did it, I confess.\" That was the part that tied his bowels in knots. He almost wished he had done it, since it seemed he must suffer for it anyway.\n\n\"My lord?\" said Podrick Payne. \"They're here, my lord. Ser Addam. And the gold cloaks. They wait without.\"\n\n\"Pod, tell me true... do you think I did it?\""
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The boy hesitated. When he tried to speak, all he managed to produce was a weak sputter.\n\nI am doomed. Tyrion sighed. \"No need to answer. You've been a good squire tome. Better than I deserved. Whatever happens, I thank you for your leal service.\"\n\nSer Addam Marbrand waited at the door with six gold cloaks. He had nothing to say this morning, it seemed. Another good man who thinks me a kinslayer. Tyrion summoned all the dignity he could find and waddled down the steps. He could feel them all watching him as he crossed the yard; the guards on the walls, the grooms by the stables, the scullions and washerwomen and serving girls. Inside the throne room, knights and lordlings moved aside to let them through, and whispered to their ladies.\n\nNo sooner had Tyrion taken his place before the judges than another group of gold cloaks led in Shae.\n\nA cold hand tightened round his heart. Varys betrayed her, he thought. Then he remembered. No. I betrayed her myself. I should have left her with Lollys. Of course they'd question Sansa's maids, I'd do the same. Tyrion rubbed at the slick scar where his nose had been, wondering why Cersei had bothered. Shae knows nothing that can hurt me.\n\n\"They plotted it together,\" she said, this girl he'd loved. \"The Imp and Lady Sansa plotted it after the Young Wolf died. Sansa wanted revenge for her brother and Tyrion meant to have the throne. He was going to kill his sister next, and then his own lord father, so he could be Hand for Prince Tommen. But after a year or so, before Tommen got too old, he would have killed him too, so as to take the crown for his own head.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"How could you know all this?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "demanded Prince Oberyn. \"Why would the Imp divulge such plans to his wife's maid?\"\n\n\"I overheard some, m'lord,\" said Shae, \"and m'lady let things slip too. But most I had from his own lips. I wasn't only Lady Sansa's maid. I was his whore, all the time he was herein King's Landing. On the morning of the wedding, he dragged me down where they keep the dragon skulls and fucked me therewith the monsters all around. And when I cried, he said I ought to be more grateful, that it wasn't every girl who got to be the king's whore. That was when he told me how he meant to be king. He said that poorboy Joffrey would never know his bride the way he was knowing me.\" She started sobbing then. \"I never meant to be a whore, m'lords. I was to be married. A squire, he was, and a good brave boy, gentle born. But the Imp saw meat the Green Fork and put the boy I meant to marry in the front rank of the van, and after he was killed he sent his wildlings to bring me to his tent. Shagga, the big one, and Timett with the burned eye. He said if I didn't pleasure him, he'd give me to them, so I did. Then he brought me to the city, so I'd be close when he wanted me. He made me do such shameful things...\"\n\nPrince Oberyn looked curious. \"What sorts of things?\"\n\n\"Unspeakable things.\" As the tears rolled slowly down that pretty face, no doubt every man in the hall wanted to take Shae in his arms and comfort her. \"With my mouth and... other parts, m'lord. All my parts. He used me every way there was, and... he used to make me tell him how big he was. My giant, I had to call him, my giant of Lannister.\""
},
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"value": "Oswald Kettleblack was the first to laugh. Boros and Meryn joined in, then Cersei, Ser Loras, and more lords and ladies than he could count. The sudden gale of mirth made the rafters ring and shook the Iron Throne. \"It's true,\" Shae protested. \"My giant of Lannister.\" The laughter swelled twice as loud. Their mouths were twisted in merriment, their bellies shook. Some laughed so hard that snot flew from their nostrils.\n\nI saved you all, Tyrion thought. I saved this vile city and all your worthless lives. There were hundreds in the throne room, everyone of them laughing but his father. Or so it seemed. Even the Red Viper chortled, and Mace Tyrell looked like to bust a gut, but Lord Tywin Lannister sat between them as if made of stone, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.\n\nTyrion pushed forward. \"MY LORDS!\" he shouted. He had to shout, to have any hope of being heard.\n\nHis father raised a hand. Bit by bit, the hall grew silent.\n\n\"Get this lying whore out of my sight,\" said Tyrion, \"and I will give you your confession.\"\n\nLord Tywin nodded, gestured. Shae looked half in terror as the gold cloaks formed up around her. Her eyes met Tyrion's as they marched her from the wall. Was it shame he saw there, or fear? He wondered what Cersei had promised her. You will get the gold or jewels, whatever it was you asked for, he thought as he watched her back recede, but before the moon has turned she'll have you entertaining the gold cloaks in their barracks.\n\nTyrion stared up at his father's hard green eyes with their flecks of cold bright gold. \"Guilty,\" he said, \"so guilty. Is that what you wanted to hear?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lord Tywin said nothing."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mace Tyrell nodded. Prince Oberyn looked mildly disappointed. \"You admit you poisoned the king?\"\n\n\"Nothing of the sort,\" said Tyrion. \"Of Joffrey's death I am innocent. I am guilty of a more monstrous crime.\" He took a step toward his father. \"I was born. I lived. I am guilty of being a dwarf, I confess it. And no matter how many times my good father forgave me, I have persisted in my infamy.\"\n\n\"This is folly, Tyrion,\" declared Lord Tywin. \"Speak to the matter at hand. You are not on trial for being a dwarf.\"\n\n\"That is where you err, my lord. I have been on trial for being a dwarf my entire life.\"\n\n\"Have you nothing to say in your defense?\"\n\n\"Nothing but this: I did not do it. Yet now I wish I had.\" He turned to face the hall, that sea of palefaces. \"I wish I had enough poison for you all. You make me sorry that I am not the monster you would have me be, yet there it is. I am innocent, but I will get no justice here. You leave me no choice but to appeal to the gods. I demand trial by battle.\"\n\n\"Have you taken leave of your wits?\" his father said.\n\n\"No, I've found them. I demand trial by battle!\"\n\nHis sweet sister could not have been more pleased. \"He has that right, my lords,\" she reminded the judges. \"Let the gods judge. Ser Gregor Clegane will stand for Joffrey. He returned to the city the night before last, to put his sword at my service.\"\n\nLord Tywin's face was so dark that for half a heartbeat Tyrion wondered if he'd drunk some poisoned wine as well. He slammed his fist down on the table, too angry to speak. It was Mace Tyrell who turned to Tyrion and asked the question. \"Do you have a champion to defend your innocence?\""
},
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"value": "\"He does, my lord.\" Prince Oberyn of Dorne rose to his feet. \"The dwarf has quite convinced me.\"\n\nThe uproar was deafening. Tyrion took especial pleasure in the sudden doubt he glimpsed in Cersei's eyes. It took a hundred gold cloaks pounding the butts of their spears against the floor to quiet the throne room again. By then Lord Tywin Lannister had recovered himself. \"Let the issue be decided on the morrow,\" he declared in iron tones. \"I wash my hands of it.\" He gave his dwarf son a cold angry look, then strode from the hall, out the king's door behind the Iron Throne, his brother Kevan at his side.\n\nLater, back in his tower cell, Tyrion poured himself a cup of wine and sent Podrick Payne off for cheese, bread, and olives. He doubted whether he could keep down anything heavier just now. Did you think I would go meekly, Father? he asked the shadow his candles etched upon the wall. I have too much of you in me for that. He felt strangely at peace, now that he had snatched the power of life and death from his father's hands and placed it in the hands of the gods. Assuming there are gods, and they give a mummer's fart. If not, then I'm in Dornish hands. No matter what happened, Tyrion had the satisfaction of knowing that he'd kicked Lord Tywin's plans to splinters. If Prince Oberyn won, it would further inflame Highgarden against the Dornish; Mace Tyrell would seethe man who crippled his son helping the dwarf who almost poisoned his daughter to escape his rightful punishment. And if the Mountain triumphed, Doran Martell might well demand to know why his brother had been served with death instead of the justice Tyrion had promised him. Dorne might crown Myrcella after all."
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was almost worth dying to know all the trouble he'd made. Will you come to seethe end, Shae? Will you stand therewith the rest, watching as Ser Ilyn lops my ugly head off? Will you miss your giant of Lannister when he's dead? He drained his wine, flung the cup aside, and sang lustily.\n\nHe rode through the streets of the city,\n\ndown from his hill on high,\n\nO'er the wynds and the steps and the cobbles,\n\nhe rode to a woman's sigh.\n\nFor she was his secret treasure,\n\nshe was his shame and his bliss.\n\nAnd a chain and a keep are nothing,\n\ncompared to a woman's kiss.\n\nSer Kevan did not visit him that night. He was probably with Lord Tywin, trying to placate the Tyrells. I have seen the last of that uncle, I fear. He poured another cup of wine. A pity he'd had Symon Silver Tongue killed before learning all the words of that song. It wasn't a bad song, if truth be told. Especially compared to the ones that would be written about him henceforth. \"For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm,\" he sang. Perhaps he should write the other verses himself. If he lived so long.\n\nThat night, surprisingly, Tyrion Lannister slept long and deep. He rose at first light, well rested and with a hearty appetite, and broke his fast on fried bread, blood sausage, applecakes, and a double helping of eggs cooked with onions and fiery Dornish peppers. Then he begged leave of his guards to attend his champion. Ser Addam gave his consent."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tyrion found Prince Oberyn drinking a cup of red wine as he donned his armor. He was attended by four of his younger Dornish lordlings. \"Good morrow to you, my lord,\" the prince said. \"Will you take a cup of wine?\"\n\n\"Should you be drinking before battle?\"\n\n\"I always drink before battle.\"\n\n\"That could get you killed. Worse, it could get me killed.\"\n\nPrince Oberyn laughed. \"The gods defend the innocent. You are innocent, I trust?\"\n\n\"Only of killing Joffrey,\" Tyrion admitted. \"I do hope you know what you are about to face. Gregor Clegane is-\"\n\n\"-large? So I have heard.\"\n\n\"He is almost eight feet tall and must weigh thirty stone, all of it muscle. He fights with a two-handed greatsword, but needs only one hand to wield it. He has been known to cut men in half with a single blow. His armor is so heavy that no lesser man could bear the weight, let alone move in it.\"\n\nPrince Oberyn was unimpressed. \"I have killed large men before. The trick is to get them off their feet. Once they go down, they're dead.\" The Dornishman sounded so blithely confident that Tyrion felt almost reassured, until he turned and said, \"Daemon, my spear!\" Ser Daemon tossed it to him, and the Red Viper snatched it from the air.\n\n\"You mean to face the Mountain with a spear?\" That made Tyrion uneasy allover again. In battle, ranks of massed spears made fora formidable front, but single combat against a skilled swordsman was a very different matter.\n\n\"We are fond of spears in Dorne. Besides, it is the only way to counter his reach. Have a look, Lord Imp, but see you do not touch.\" The spear was turned ash eight feet long, the shaft smooth, thick, and heavy. The last two feet of that was steel: a slender leaf-shaped spearhead narrowing to a wicked spike. The edges looked sharp enough to shave with. When Oberyn spun the haft between the palms of his hand, they glistened black. Oil? Or poison? Tyrion decided that he would sooner not know. \"I hope you are good with that,\" he said doubtfully."
},
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You will have no cause for complaint. Though Ser Gregor may. However thick his plate, there will be gaps at the joints. Inside the elbow and knee, beneath the arms... I will find a place to tickle him, I promise you.\" He set the spear aside. \"It is said that a Lannister always pays his debts. Perhaps you will return to Sunspear with me when the day's bloodletting is done. My brother Doran would be most pleased to meet the rightful heir to Casterly Rock... especially if he brought his lovely wife, the Lady of Winterfell.\"\n\nDoes the snake think I have Sansa squirreled away somewhere, like a nut I'm hoarding for winter? If so, Tyrion was not about to disabuse him. \"A trip to Dorne might be very pleasant, now that I reflect on it.\"\n\n\"Plan on a lengthy visit.\" Prince Oberyn sipped his wine. \"You and Doran have many matters of mutual interest to discuss. Music, trade, history, wine, the dwarf's penny... the laws of inheritance and succession. No doubt an uncle's counsel would be of benefit to Queen Myrcella in the trying times ahead.\"\n\nIf Varys had his little birds listening, Oberyn was giving them a ripe earful. \"I believe I will have that cup of wine,\" said Tyrion. Queen Myrcella? It would have been more tempting if only he did have Sansa tucked beneath his cloak. If she declared for Myrcella over Tommen, would the north follow? What the Red Viper was hinting at was treason. Could Tyrion truly take up arms against Tommen, against his own father? Cersei would spit blood. It might be worth it for that alone.\n\n\"Do you recall the tale I told you of our first meeting, Imp?\" Prince Oberyn asked, as the Bastard of Godsgrace knelt before him to fasten his greaves. \" It was not for your tail alone that my sister and I came to Casterly Rock. We were on a quest of sorts. A quest that took us to Starfall, the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall, and finally Casterly Rock... but our true destination was marriage. Doran was betrothed to Lady Mellario of Norvos, so he had been left behind as castellan of Sunspear. My sister and I were yet unpromised."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 72"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You will have no cause for complaint. Though Ser Gregor may. However thick his plate, there will be gaps at the joints. Inside the elbow and knee, beneath the arms... I will find a place to tickle him, I promise you.\" He set the spear aside. \"It is said that a Lannister always pays his debts. Perhaps you will return to Sunspear with me when the day's bloodletting is done. My brother Doran would be most pleased to meet the rightful heir to Casterly Rock... especially if he brought his lovely wife, the Lady of Winterfell.\"\n\nDoes the snake think I have Sansa squirreled away somewhere, like a nut I'm hoarding for winter? If so, Tyrion was not about to disabuse him. \"A trip to Dorne might be very pleasant, now that I reflect on it.\"\n\n\"Plan on a lengthy visit.\" Prince Oberyn sipped his wine. \"You and Doran have many matters of mutual interest to discuss. Music, trade, history, wine, the dwarf's penny... the laws of inheritance and succession. No doubt an uncle's counsel would be of benefit to Queen Myrcella in the trying times ahead.\"\n\nIf Varys had his little birds listening, Oberyn was giving them a ripe earful. \"I believe I will have that cup of wine,\" said Tyrion. Queen Myrcella? It would have been more tempting if only he did have Sansa tucked beneath his cloak. If she declared for Myrcella over Tommen, would the north follow? What the Red Viper was hinting at was treason. Could Tyrion truly take up arms against Tommen, against his own father? Cersei would spit blood. It might be worth it for that alone.\n\n\"Do you recall the tale I told you of our first meeting, Imp?\" Prince Oberyn asked, as the Bastard of Godsgrace knelt before him to fasten his greaves. \" It was not for your tail alone that my sister and I came to Casterly Rock. We were on a quest of sorts. A quest that took us to Starfall, the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall, and finally Casterly Rock... but our true destination was marriage. Doran was betrothed to Lady Mellario of Norvos, so he had been left behind as castellan of Sunspear. My sister and I were yet unpromised."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Elia found it all exciting. She was of that age, and her delicate health had never permitted her much travel. I preferred to amuse myself by mocking my sister's suitors. There was Little Lord Lazyeye, Squire Squishlips, one I named the Whale That Walks, that sort of thing. The only one who was even halfway presentable was young Baelor Hightower. A pretty lad, and my sister was half in love with him until he had the misfortune to fart once in our presence. I promptly named him Baelor Breakwind, and after that Elia couldn't look at him without laughing. I was a monstrous young fellow, someone should have sliced out my vile tongue.\"\n\nYes, Tyrion agreed silently. Baelor Hightower was no longer young, but he remained Lord Leyton's heir; wealthy, handsome, and a knight of splendid repute. Baelor Brightsmile, they called him now. Had Elia wed him in place of Rhaegar Targaryen, she might be in Oldtown with her children growing tall around her. He wondered how many lives had been snuffed out by that fart.\n\n\"Lannisport was the end of our voyage,\" Prince Oberyn went on, as Ser Arron Qorgyle helped him into a padded leather tunic and began lacing it up the back. \"Were you aware that our mothers knew each other of old?\"\n\n\"They had been at court together as girls, I seem to recall. Companions to Princess Rhaella?\"\n\n\"Just so. It was my belief that the mothers had cooked up this plot between them. Squire Squishlips and his ilk and the various pimply young maidens who'd been paraded before me were the almonds before the feast, meant only to whet our appetites. The main course was to be served at Casterly Rock.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Cersei and Jaime.\"\n\n\"Such a clever dwarf. Elia and I were older, to be sure. Your brother and sister could not have been more than eight or nine. Still, a difference of five or six years is little enough. And there was an empty cabin on our ship, a very nice cabin, such as might be kept fora person of high birth. As if it were intended that we take someone back to Sunspear. A young page, perhaps. Ora companion for Elia. Your lady mother meant to betroth Jaime to my sister, or Cersei tome. Perhaps both.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Tyrion, \"but my father-\"\n\n\"-ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but was ruled at home by his lady wife, or so my mother always said.\" Prince Oberyn raised his arms, so Lord Dagos Manwoody and the Bastard of Godsgrace could slip a chainmail byrnie down over his head. \" At Oldtown we learned of your mother's death, and the monstrous child she had borne. We might have turned back there, but my mother chose to sail on. I told you of the welcome we found at Casterly Rock.\n\n\"What I did not tell you was that my mother waited as long as was decent, and then broached your father about our purpose. Years later, on her deathbed, she told me that Lord Tywin had refused us brusquely. His daughter was meant for Prince Rhaegar, he informed her. And when she asked for Jaime, to espouse Elia, he offered her you instead.\"\n\n\"Which offer she took for an outrage.\"\n\n\"It was. Even you can see that, surely?\"\n\n\"Oh, surely.\" It all goes back and back, Tyrion thought, to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance on in our steads. \"Well, Prince Rhaegar married Elia of Dorne, not Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock. So it would seem your mother won that tilt.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She thought so,\" Prince Oberyn agreed, \"but your father is not a man to forget such slights. He taught that lesson to Lord and Lady Tarbeck once, and to the Reynes of Castamere. And at King's Landing, he taught it to my sister. My helm, Dagos.\" Manwoody handed it to him; a high golden helm with a copper disk mounted on the brow, the sun of Dorne. The visor had been removed, Tyrion saw. \"Elia and her children have waited long for justice.\" Prince Oberyn pulled on soft red leather gloves, and took up his spear again. \"But this day they shall have it.\"\n\nThe outer ward had been chosen for the combat. Tyrion had to skip and run to keep up with Prince Oberyn's long strides. The snake is eager, he thought. Let us hope he is venomous as well. The day was grey and windy. The sun was struggling to breakthrough the clouds, but Tyrion could no more have said who was going to win that fight than the one on which his life depended.\n\nIt looked as though a thousand people had come to see if he would live or die. They lined the castle wallwalks and elbowed one another on the steps of keeps and towers. They watched from the stable doors, from windows and bridges, from balconies and roofs. And the yard was packed with them, so many that the gold cloaks and the knights of the Kingsguard had to shove them back to make enough room for the fight. Some had dragged out chairs to watch more comfortably, while others perched on barrels. We should have done this in the Dragonpit, Tyrion thought sourly. We could have charged a penny ahead and paid for Joffrey's wedding and funeral both. Some of the onlookers even had small children sitting on their shoulders, to get a better view. They shouted and pointed at the sight of Tyrion."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Cersei seemed half a child herself beside Ser Gregor."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In his armor, the Mountain looked bigger than any man had any right to be. Beneath along yellow surcoat bearing the three black dogs of Clegane, he wore heavy plate over chainmail, dull grey steel dinted and scarred in battle. Beneath that would be boiled leather and a layer of quilting. A flat-topped greathelm was bolted to his gorget, with breaths around the mouth and nose and a narrow slit for vision. The crest atop it was a stone fist.\n\nIf Ser Gregor was suffering from wounds, Tyrion could see no sign of it from across the yard. He looks as though he was chiseled out of rock, standing there. His greatsword was planted in the ground before him, six feet of scarred metal. Ser Gregor's huge hands, clad in gauntlets of lobstered steel, clasped the crosshilt to either side of the grip. Even Prince Oberyn's paramour paled at the sight of him. \"You are going to fight that?\" Ellaria Sand said in a hushed voice.\n\n\"I am going to kill that,\" her lover replied carelessly.\n\nTyrion had his own doubts, now that they stood on the brink. When he looked at Prince Oberyn, he found himself wishing he had Bronn defending him... or even better, Jaime. The Red Viper was lightly armored; greaves, vambraces, gorget, spaulder, steel codpiece. Elsewise Oberyn was clad in supple leather and flowing silks. Over his byrnie he wore his scales of gleaming copper, but mail and scale together would not give him a quarter the protection of Gregor's heavy plate. With its visor removed, the prince's helm was effectively no better than a half-helm, lacking even a nasal. His round steel shield was brightly polished, and showed the sun-and-spear in red gold, yellow gold, white gold, and copper."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dance around him until he's so tired he can hardly lift his arm, then put him on his back. The Red Viper seemed to have the same notion as Bronn. But the sellsword had been blunt about the risks of such tactics. I hope to seven hells that you know what you are doing, snake.\n\nA platform had been erected beside the Tower of the Hand, halfway between the two champions. That was where Lord Tywin sat with his brother Ser Kevan. King Tommen was not in evidence; for that, at least, Tyrion was grateful.\n\nLord Tywin glanced briefly at his dwarf son, then lifted his hand. A dozen trumpeters blew a fanfare to quiet the crowd. The High Septon shuffled forward in his tall crystal crown, and prayed that the Father Above would help them in this judgment, and that the Warrior would lend his strength to the arm of the man whose cause was just. That would be me, Tyrion almost shouted, but they would only laugh, and he was sick unto death of laughter.\n\nSer Osmund Kettleblack brought Clegane his shield, a massive thing of heavy oak rimmed in black iron. As the Mountain slid his left arm through the straps, Tyrion saw that the hounds of Clegane had been painted over. This morning Ser Gregor bore the seven-pointed star the Andals had brought to Westeros when they crossed the narrow sea to overwhelm the First Men and their gods. Very pious of you, Cersei, but I doubt the gods will be impressed.\n\nThere were fifty yards between them. Prince Oberyn advanced quickly, Ser Gregor more ominously. The ground does not shake when he walks, Tyrion told himself. That is only my heart fluttering. When the two men were ten yards apart, the Red Viper stopped and called out, \"Have they told you who I am?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ser Gregor grunted through his breaths. \"Some dead man.\" He came on, inexorable.\n\nThe Dornishman slid sideways. \"I am Oberyn Martell, a prince of Dorne,\" he said, as the Mountain turned to keep him insight. \"Princess Elia was my sister.\"\n\n\"Who?\" asked Gregor Clegane.\n\nOberyn's long spear jabbed, but Ser Gregor took the point on his shield, shoved it aside, and bulled back at the prince, his great sword flashing. The Dornishman spun away untouched. The spear darted forward. Clegane slashed at it, Martell snapped it back, then thrust again. Metal screamed on metal as the spearhead slid off the Mountain's chest, slicing through the surcoat and leaving along bright scratch on the steel beneath. \"Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne,\" the Red Viper hissed. \"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\"\n\nSer Gregor grunted. He made a ponderous charge to hack at the Dornishman's head. Prince Oberyn avoided him easily. \"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\"\n\n\"Did you come to talk or to fight?\"\n\n\"I came to hear you confess.\" The Red Viper landed a quick thrust on the Mountain's belly, to no effect. Gregor cut at him, and missed. The long spear lanced in above his sword. Like a serpent's tongue it flickered in and out, feinting low and landing high, jabbing at groin, shield, eyes. The Mountain makes fora big target, at the least, Tyrion thought. Prince Oberyn could scarcely miss, though none of his blows was penetrating Ser Gregor's heavy plate. The Dornishman kept circling, jabbing, then darting back again, forcing the bigger man to turn and turn again. Clegane is losing sight of him. The Mountain's helm had a narrow eyeslit, severely limiting his vision. Oberyn was making good use of that, and the length of his spear, and his quickness."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It went on that way for what seemed along time. Back and forth they moved across the yard, and round and round in spirals, Ser Gregor slashing at the air while Oberyn's spear struck at arm, and leg, twice at his temple. Gregor's big wooden shield took its share of hits as well, until a dog's head peeped out from under the star, and elsewhere the raw oak showed through. Clegane would grunt from time to time, and once Tyrion heard him mutter a curse, but otherwise he fought in a sullen silence.\n\nNot Oberyn Martell. \"You raped her,\" he called, feinting. \"You murdered her,\" he said, dodging a looping cut from Gregor's greatsword. \"You killed her children,\" he shouted, slamming the spearpoint into the giant's throat, only to have it glance off the thick steel gorget with a screech.\n\n\"Oberyn is toying with him,\" said Ellaria Sand.\n\nThat is fool's play, thought Tyrion. \"The Mountain is too bloody big to be any man's toy.\"\n\nAll around the yard, the throng of spectators was creeping in toward the two combatants, edging forward inch by inch to get a better view. The Kingsguard tried to keep them back, shoving at the gawkers forcefully with their big white shields, but there were hundreds of gawkers and only six of the men in white armor.\n\n\"You raped her.\" Prince Oberyn parried a savage cut with his spearhead. \"You murdered her.\" He sent the spearpoint at Clegane's eyes, so fast the huge man flinched back. \"You killed her children.\" The spear flickered sideways and down, scraping against the Mountain's breastplate. \"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\" The spear was two feet longer than Ser Gregor's sword, more than enough to keep him at an awkward distance. He hacked at the shaft whenever Oberyn lunged at him, trying to lop off the spearhead, but he might as well have been trying to hack the wings off a fly. \"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\" Gregor tried to bull rush, but Oberyn skipped aside and circled round his back. \"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Be quiet.\" Ser Gregor seemed to be moving a little slower, and his greatsword no longer rose quite so high as it had when the contest began. \"Shut your bloody mouth.\"\n\n\"You raped her,\" the prince said, moving to the right.\n\n\"Enough!\" Ser Gregor took two long strides and brought his sword down at Oberyn's head, but the Dornishman backstepped once more. \"You murdered her,\" he said.\n\n\"SHUT UP!\" Gregor charged headlong, right at the point of the spear, which slammed into his right breast then slid aside with a hideous steel shriek. Suddenly the Mountain was close enough to strike, his huge sword flashing in a steel blur. The crowd was screaming as well. Oberyn slipped the first blow and let goof the spear, useless now that Ser Gregor was inside it. The second cut the Dornishman caught on his shield. Metal met metal with an ear-splitting clang, sending the Red Viper reeling. Ser Gregor followed, bellowing. He doesn't use words, he just roars like an animal, Tyrion thought. Oberyn's retreat became a headlong backward flight mere inches ahead of the greatsword as it slashed at his chest, his arms, his head.\n\nThe stable was behind him. Spectators screamed and shoved at each other to get out of the way. One stumbled into Oberyn's back. Ser Gregor hacked down with all his savage strength. The Red Viper threw himself sideways, rolling. The luckless stableboy behind him was not so quick. As his arm rose to protect his face, Gregor's sword took it off between elbow and shoulder. \"Shut UP!\" the Mountain howled at the stableboy's scream, and this time he swung the blade sideways, sending the top half of the lad's head across the yard in a spray of blood and brains. Hundreds of spectators suddenly seemed to lose all interest in the guilt or innocence of Tyrion Lannister, judging by the way they pushed and shoved at each other to escape the yard."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But the Red Viper of Dorne was back on his feet, his long spear in hand. \"Elia,\" he called at Ser Gregor. \"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children. Now say her name.\"\n\nThe Mountain whirled. Helm, shield, sword, surcoat; he was spattered with gore from head to heels. \"You talk too much,\" he grumbled. \"You make my head hurt.\"\n\n\"I will hear you say it. She was Elia of Dorne.\"\n\nThe Mountain snorted contemptuously, and came on... and in that moment, the sun broke through the low clouds that had hidden the sky since dawn.\n\nThe sun of Dorne, Tyrion told himself, but it was Gregor Clegane who moved first to put the sun at his back. This is a dim and brutal man, but he has a warrior's instincts.\n\nThe Red Viper crouched, squinting, and sent his spear darting forward again. Ser Gregor hacked at it, but the thrust had only been a feint. Off balance, he stumbled forward a step.\n\nPrince Oberyn tilted his dinted metal shield. A shaft of sunlight blazed blindingly off polished gold and copper, into the narrow slit of his foe's helm. Clegane lifted his own shield against the glare. Prince Oberyn's spear flashed like lightning and found the gap in the heavy plate, the joint under the arm. The point punched through mail and boiled leather. Gregor gave a choked grunt as the Dornishman twisted his spear and yanked it free.\"Elia. Say it! Elia of Dorne!\" He was circling, spear poised for another thrust. \"Say it!\"\n\nTyrion had his own prayer. Fall down and die, was how it went. Damn you, fall down and die! The blood trickling from the Mountain's armpit was his own now, and he must be bleeding even more heavily inside the breastplate. When he tried to take a step, one knee buckled. Tyrion thought he was going down."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Prince Oberyn had circled behind him. \"ELIA OF DORNE!\" he shouted. Ser Gregor started to turn, but too slow and too late. The spearhead went through the back of the knee this time, through the layers of chain and leather between the plates on thigh and calf. The Mountain reeled, swayed, then collapsed face first on the ground. His huge sword went flying from his hand. Slowly, ponderously, he rolled onto his back.\n\nThe Dornishman flung away his ruined shield, grasped the spear in both hands, and sauntered away. Behind him the Mountain let out a groan, and pushed himself onto an elbow. Oberyn whirled cat-quick, and ran at his fallen foe. \"EEEEELLLLLLIIIIIAAAAA!\" he screamed, as he drove the spear down with the whole weight of his body behind it. The crack of the ashwood shaft snapping was almost as sweet a sound as Cersei's wail of fury, and for an instant Prince Oberyn had wings. The snake has vaulted over the Mountain. Four feet of broken spear jutted from Clegane's belly as Prince Oberyn rolled, rose, and dusted himself off. He tossed aside the splintered spear and claimed his foe's greatsword. \"If you die before you say her name, ser, I will hunt you through all seven hells,\" he promised.\n\nSer Gregor tried to rise. The broken spear had gone through him, and was pinning him to the ground. He wrapped both hands about the shaft, grunting, but could not pull it out. Beneath him was a spreading pool of red. \"I am feeling more innocent by the instant,\" Tyrion told Ellaria Sand beside him.\n\nPrince Oberyn moved closer. \"Say the name!\" He put afoot on the Mountain's chest and raised the greatsword with both hands. Whether he intended to hack off Gregor's head or shove the point through his eyeslit was something Tyrion would never know."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Clegane's hand shot up and grabbed the Dornishman behind the knee. The Red Viper brought down the greatsword in a wild slash, but he was off-balance, and the edge did no more than put another dentin the Mountain's vambrace. Then the sword was forgotten as Gregor's hand tightened and twisted, yanking the Dornishman down on top of him. They wrestled in the dust and blood, the broken spear wobbling back and forth. Tyrion saw with horror that the Mountain had wrapped one huge arm around the prince, drawing him tight against his chest, like a lover.\n\n\"Elia of Dorne,\" they all heard Ser Gregor say, when they were close enough to kiss. His deep voice boomed within the helm. \"I killed her screaming whelp.\" He thrust his freehand into Oberyn's unprotected face, pushing steel fingers into his eyes. \"Then I raped her.\" Clegane slammed his fist into the Dornishman's mouth, making splinters of his teeth. \"Then I smashed her fucking head in. Like this.\" Ashe drew back his huge fist, the blood on his gauntlet seemed to smoke in the cold dawn air. There was a sickening crunch. Ellaria Sand wailed in terror, and Tyrion's breakfast came boiling backup. He found himself on his knees retching bacon and sausage and applecakes, and that double helping of fried eggs cooked up with onions and fiery Dornish peppers.\n\nHe never heard his father speak the words that condemned him. Perhaps no words were necessary. I put my life in the Red Viper's hands, and he dropped it. When he remembered, too late, that snakes had no hands, Tyrion began to laugh hysterically.\n\nHe was halfway down the serpentine steps before he realized that the gold cloaks were not taking him back to his tower room. \"I've been consigned to the black cells,\" he said. They did not bother to answer. Why waste your breath on the dead?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "DAENERYS\n\nDany broke her fast under the persimmon tree that grew in the terrace garden, watching her dragons chase each other about the apex of the Great Pyramid where the huge bronze harpy once stood. Meereen had a score of lesser pyramids, but none stood even half as tall. From here she could seethe whole city: the narrow twisty alleys and wide brick streets, the temples and granaries, hovels and palaces, brothels and baths, gardens and fountains, the great red circles of the fighting pits. And beyond the walls was the pewter sea, the winding Skahazadhan, the dry brown hills, burnt orchards, and blackened fields. Up herein her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world.\n\nDo all gods feel so lonely? Some must, surely. Missandei had told her of the Lord of Harmony, worshiped by the Peaceful People of Naath; he was the only true god, her little scribe said, the god who always was and always would be, who made the moon and stars and earth, and all the creatures that dwelt upon them. Poor Lord of Harmony. Dany pitied him. It must be terrible to be alone for all time, attended by hordes of butterfly women you could make or unmake at a word. Westeros had seven gods at least, though Viserys had told her that some septons said the seven were only aspects of a single god, seven facets of a single crystal. That was just confusing. The red priests believed in two gods, she had heard, but two who were eternally at war. Dany liked that even less. She would not want to be eternally at war.\n\nMissandei served her duck eggs and dog sausage, and half a cup of sweetened wine mixed with the juice of a lime. The honey drew flies, but a scented candle drove them off. The flies were not so troublesome up here as they were in the rest of her city, she had found, something else she liked about the pyramid. \"I must remember to do something about the flies,\" Dany said. \"Are there many flies on Naath, Missandei?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"On Naath there are butterflies,\" the scribe responded in the Common Tongue."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"More wine?\"\n\n\"No. I must hold court soon.\" Dany had grown very fond of Missandei. The little scribe with the big golden eyes was wise beyond her years. She is brave as well. She had to be, to survive the life she's lived. One day she hoped to see this fabled isle of Naath. Missandei said the Peaceful People made music instead of war. They did not kill, not even animals; they ate only fruit and never flesh. The butterfly spirits sacred to their Lord of Harmony protected their isle against those who would do them harm. Many conquerors had sailed on Naath to blood their swords, only to sicken and die. The butterflies do not help them when the slave ships come raiding, though. \"I am going to take you home one day, Missandei,\" Dany promised. If I had made the same promise to Jorah, would he still have sold me? \"I swear it.\"\n\n\"This one is content to stay with you, Your Grace. Naath will be there, always. You are good to this-tome.\"\n\n\"And you tome.\" Dany took the girl by the hand. \"Come help me dress.\"\n\nJhiqui helped Missandei bathe her while Irri was laying out her clothes. Today she wore a robe of purple samite and a silver sash, and on her head the three-headed dragon crown the Tourmaline Brotherhood had given her in Qarth. Her slippers were silver as well, with heels so high that she was always half afraid she was about to topple over. When she was dressed, Missandei brought her a polished silver glass so she could see how she looked. Dany stared at herself in silence. Is this the face of a conqueror? So far as she could tell, she still looked like a little girl."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No one was calling her Daenerys the Conqueror yet, but perhaps they would. Aegon the Conqueror had won Westeros with three dragons, but she had taken Meereen with sewer rats and a wooden cock, in less than a day. Poor Groleo. He still grieved for his ship, she knew. If a war galley could ram another ship, why not agate? That had been her thought when she commanded the captains to drive their ships ashore. Their masts had become her battering rams, and swarms of freedmen had torn their hulls apart to build mantlets, turtles, catapults, and ladders. The sellswords had given each ram a bawdy name, and it had been the mainmast of Meraxes-formerly Joso's Prank-that had broken the eastern gate. Joso's Cock, they called it. The fighting had raged bitter and bloody for most of a day and well into the night before the wood began to splinter and Meraxes'iron figurehead, a laughing jester's face, came crashing through.\n\nDany had wanted to lead the attack herself, but to a man her captains said that would be madness, and her captains never agreed on anything. Instead she remained in the rear, sitting atop her silver in along shirt of mail. She heard the city fall from half a league away, though, when the defenders' shouts of defiance changed to cries of fear. Her dragons had roared as one in that moment, filling the night with flame. The slaves are rising, she knew at once. My sewer rats have gnawed off their chains.\n\nWhen the last resistance had been crushed by the Unsullied and the sack had run its course, Dany entered her city. The dead were heaped so high before the broken gate that it took her freedmen near an hour to make a path for her silver. Joso's Cock and the great wooden turtle that had protected it, covered with horsehides, lay abandoned within. She rode past burned buildings and broken windows, through brick streets where the gutters were choked with the stiff and swollen dead. Cheering slaves lifted bloodstained hands to her as she went by, and called her'Mother.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In the plaza before the Great Pyramid, the Meereenese huddled forlorn."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Great Masters had looked anything but great in the morning light. Stripped of their jewels and their fringed tokars, they were contemptible; a herd of old men with shriveled balls and spotted skin and young men with ridiculous hair. Their women were either soft and fleshy or as dry as old sticks, their face paint streaked by tears. \"I want your leaders,\" Dany told them. \"Give them up, and the rest of you shall be spared.\"\n\n\"How many?\" one old woman had asked, sobbing. \"How many must you have to spare us?\"\n\n\"One hundred and sixty-three,\" she answered.\n\nShe had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon. But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood...\n\nDany put the glass aside, frowning. It was just. It was. I did it for the children.\n\nHer audience chamber was on the level below, an echoing high-ceilinged room with walls of purple marble. It was a chilly place for all its grandeur. There had been a throne there, a fantastic thing of carved and gilded wood in the shape of a savage harpy. She had taken one long look and commanded it be broken up for firewood. \"I will not sit in the harpy's lap,\" she told them. Instead she sat upon a simple ebony bench. It served, though she had heard the Meereenese muttering that it did not befit a queen.\n\nHer bloodriders were waiting for her. Silver bells tinkled in their oiled braids, and they wore the gold and jewels of dead men. Meereen had been rich beyond imagining. Even her sellswords seemed sated, at least for now. Across the room, Grey Worm wore the plain uniform of the Unsullied, his spiked bronze cap beneath one arm. These at least she could rely on, or so she hoped... and Brown Ben Plumm as well, solid Ben with his grey-white hair and weathered face, so beloved of her dragons. And Daario beside him, glittering in gold. Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei... as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters.\n\n\"Was the night as quiet as it seemed?\" Dany asked.\n\n\"It seems it was, Your Grace,\" said Brown Ben Plumm.\n\nShe was pleased. Meereen had been sacked savagely, as new-fallen cities always were, but Dany was determined that should end now that the city washers. She had decreed that murderers were to be hanged, that looters were to lose a hand, and rapists their manhood. Eight killers swung from the walls, and the Unsullied had filled a bushel basket with bloody hands and soft red worms, but Meereen was calm again. But for how long?\n\nA fly buzzed her head. Dany waved it off, irritated, but it returned almost at once. \"There are too many flies in this city.\"\n\nBen Plumm gave a bark of laughter. \"There were flies in my ale this morning. I swallowed one of them.\"\n\n\"Flies are the dead man's revenge.\" Daario smiled, and stroked the center prong of his beard. \"Corpses breed maggots, and maggots breed flies.\"\n\n\"We will rid ourselves of the corpses, then. Starting with those in the plaza below. Grey Worm, will you see to it?\"\n\n\"The queen commands, these ones obey.\"\n\n\"Best bring sacks as well as shovels, Worm,\" Brown Ben counseled. \"Well past ripe, those ones. Falling off those poles in bits and pieces, and crawling with...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He knows. So do I.\" Dany remembered the horror she had felt when she had seen the Plaza of Punishment in Astapor. I made a horror just as great, but surely they deserved it. Harsh justice is still justice.\n\n\"Your Grace,\" said Missandei, \"Ghiscari inter their honored dead in crypts below their manses. If you would boil the bones clean and return them to their kin, it would be a kindness.\"\n\nThe widows will curse me all the same. \"Let it be done.\" Dany beckoned to Daario. \"How many seek audience this morning?\"\n\n\"Two have presented themselves to bask in your radiance.\"\n\nDaario had plundered himself a whole new wardrobe in Meereen, and to match it he had redyed his trident beard and curly hair a deep rich purple. It made his eyes look almost purple too, as if he were some lost Valyrian. \"They arrived in the night on the Indigo Star, a trading galley out of Qarth.\"\n\nA slaver, you mean. Dany frowned. \"Who are they?\"\n\n\"The Star's master and one who claims to speak for Astapor.\"\n\n\"I will seethe envoy first.\"\n\nHe proved to be a pale ferret-faced man with ropes of pearls and spun gold hanging heavy about his neck. \"Your Worship!\" he cried. \"My name is Ghael. I bring greetings to the Mother of Dragons from King Cleon of Astapor, Cleon the Great.\"\n\nDany stiffened. \"I left a council to rule Astapor. A healer, a scholar, and a priest.\"\n\n\"Your Worship, those sly rogues betrayed your trust. It was revealed that they were scheming to restore the Good Masters to power and the people to chains. Great Cleon exposed their plots and hacked their heads off with a cleaver, and the grateful folk of Astapor have crowned him for his valor.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Noble Ghael,\" said Missandei, in the dialect of Astapor, \"is this the same Cleon once owned by Grazdan mo Ullhor?\"\n\nHer voice was guileless, yet the question plainly made the envoy anxious. \"The same,\" he admitted. \"A great man.\"\n\nMissandei leaned close to Dany. \"He was a butcher in Grazdan's kitchen,\" the girl whispered in her ear. \"It was said he could slaughter a pig faster than any man in Astapor.\"\n\nI have given Astapor a butcher king. Dany felt ill, but she knew she must not let the envoy see it. \"I will pray that King Cleon rules well and wisely. What would he have of me?\"\n\nGhael rubbed his mouth. \"Perhaps we should speak more privily, Your Grace?\"\n\n\"I have no secrets from my captains and commanders.\"\n\n\"As you wish. Great Cleon bids me declare his devotion to the Mother of Dragons. Your enemies are his enemies, he says, and chief among them are the Wise Masters of Yunkai. He proposes a pact between Astapor and Meereen, against the Yunkai'i.\"\n\n\"I swore no harm would come to Yunkai if they released their slaves,\" said Dany.\n\n\"These Yunkish dogs cannot be trusted, Your Worship. Even now they plot against you. New levies have been raised and can be seen drilling outside the city walls, warships are being built, envoys have been sent to New Ghis and Volantis in the west, to make alliances and hire sellswords. They have even dispatched riders to Vaes Dothrak to bring a khalasar down upon you. Great Cleon bid me tell you not to be afraid. Astapor remembers. Astapor will not forsake you. To prove his faith, Great Cleon offers to seal your alliance with a marriage.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"A marriage?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tome?\"\n\nGhael smiled. His teeth were brown and rotten. \"Great Cleon will give you many strong sons.\"\n\nDany found herself bereft of words, but little Missandei came to her rescue. \"Did his first wife give him sons?\"\n\nThe envoy looked at her unhappily. \"Great Cleon has three daughters by his first wife. Two of his newer wives are with child. But he means to put all of them aside if the Mother of Dragons will consent towed him.\"\n\n\"How noble of him,\" said Dany. \"I will consider all you've said, my lord.\" She gave orders that Ghael be given chambers for the night, somewhere lower in the pyramid.\n\nAll my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror. When word of what had befallen Astapor reached the streets, as it surely would, tens of thousands of newly freed Meereenese slaves would doubtless decide to follow her when she went west, for fear of what awaited them if they stayed... yet it might well be that worse would await them on the march. Even if she emptied every granary in the city and left Meereen to starve, how could she feed so many? The way before her was fraught with hardship, bloodshed, and danger. Ser Jorah had warned her of that. He'd warned her of so many things... he'd... No, I will not think of Jorah Mormont. Let him keep a little longer. \"I shall see this trader captain,\" she announced. Perhaps he would have some better tidings.\n\nThat proved to be a forlorn hope. The master of the Indigo Star was Qartheen, so he wept copiously when asked about Astapor. \"The city bleeds. Dead men rot unburied in the streets, each pyramid is an armed camp, and the markets have neither food nor slaves for sale. And the poor children! King Cleaver's thugs have seized every highborn boy in Astapor to make new Unsullied for the trade, though it will be years before they are trained.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The thing that surprised Dany most was how unsurprised she was. She found herself remembering Eroeh, the Lhazarene girl she had once tried to protect, and what had happened to her. It will be the same in Meereen once I march, she thought. The slaves from the fighting pits, bred and trained to slaughter, were already proving themselves unruly and quarrelsome. They seemed to think they owned the city now, and every man and woman in it. Two of them had been among the eight she'd hanged. There is no more I can do, she told herself. \"What do you want of me, Captain?\"\n\n\"Slaves,\" he said. \"My holds are full to bursting with ivory, ambergris, zorse hides, and other fine goods. I would trade them here for slaves, to sell in Lys and Volantis.\"\n\n\"We have no slaves for sale,\" said Dany.\n\n\"My queen?\" Daario stepped forward. \"The riverside is full of Meereenese, begging leave to be allowed to sell themselves to this Qartheen. They are thicker than the flies.\"\n\nDany was shocked. \"They want to be slaves?\"\n\n\"The ones who come are well spoken and gently born, sweet queen. Such slaves are prized. In the Free Cities they will be tutors, scribes, bed slaves, even healers and priests. They will sleep in soft beds, eat rich foods, and dwell in manses. Here they have lost all, and live in fear and squalor.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Perhaps it was not so shocking, if these tales of Astapor were true. Dany thought a moment. \"Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman.\" She raised a hand. \"But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"In Astapor the city took a tenth part of the price, each time a slave changed hands,\" Missandei told her.\n\n\"We'll do the same,\" Dany decided. Wars were won with gold as much as swords. \"A tenth part. In gold or silver coin, or ivory. Meereen has no need of saffron, cloves, or zorse hides.\"\n\n\"It shall be done as you command, glorious queen,\" said Daario. \"My Stormcrows will collect your tenth.\"\n\nIf the Stormcrows saw to the collections at least half the gold would somehow go astray, Dany knew. But the Second Sons were just as bad, and the Unsullied were as unlettered as they were incorruptible. \"Records must be kept,\" she said. \"Seek among the freedmen for men who can read, write, and do sums.\"\n\nHis business done, the captain of the Indigo Star bowed and took his leave. Dany shifted uncomfortably on the ebony bench. She dreaded what must come next, yet she knew she had put it off too long already. Yunkai and Astapor, threats of war, marriage proposals, the march west looming overall... I need my knights. I need their swords, and I need their counsel. Yet the thought of seeing Jorah Mormont again made her feel as if she'd swallowed a spoonful of flies; angry, agitated, sick. She could almost feel them buzzing round her belly. I am the blood of the dragon. I must be strong. I must have fire in my eyes when I face them, not tears. \"Tell Belwas to bring my knights,\" Dany commanded, before she could change her mind. \"My good knights.\"\n\nStrong Belwas was puffing from the climb when he marched them through the doors, one meaty hand wrapped tight around each man's arm. Ser Barristan walked with his head held high, but Ser Jorah stared at the marble floor as he approached. The one is proud, the other guilty. The old man had shaved off his white beard. He looked ten years younger without it. But her balding bear looked older than he had. They halted before the bench. Strong Belwas stepped back and stood with his arms crossed across his scarred chest. Ser Jorah cleared his throat. \"Khaleesi...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She had missed his voice so much, but she had to be stern."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Be quiet. I will tell you when to speak.\" She stood. \"When I sent you down into the sewers, part of me hoped I'd seen the last of you. It seemed a fitting end for liars, to drown in slavers\" filth. I thought the gods would deal with you, but instead you returned tome. My gallant knights of Westeros, an informer and a turncloak. My brother would have hanged you both.\" Viserys would have, anyway. She did not know what Rhaegar would have done. \"I will admit you helped win me this city...\"\n\nSer Jorah's mouth tightened. \"We won you this city. We sewer rats.\"\n\n\"Be quiet,\" she said again... though there was truth to what he said. While Joso's Cock and the other rams were battering the city gates and her archers were firing flights of flaming arrows over the walls, Dany had sent two hundred men along the river undercover of darkness to fire the hulks in the harbor. But that was only to hide their true purpose. As the flaming ships drew the eyes of the defenders on the walls, a few half-mad swimmers found the sewer mouths and pried loose a rusted iron grating. Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Strong Belwas, and twenty brave fools slipped beneath the brown water and up the brick tunnel, a mixed force of sellswords, Unsullied, and freedmen. Dany had told them to choose only men who had no families... and preferably no sense of smell.\n\nThey had been lucky as well as brave. It had been a moon's turn since the last good rain, and the sewers were only thigh-high. The oilcloth they'd wrapped around their torches kept them dry, so they had light. A few of the freedmen were frightened of the huge rats until Strong Belwas caught one and bit it in two. One man was killed by a great pale lizard that reared up out of the dark water to drag him off by the leg, but when next ripples were spied Ser Jorah butchered the beast with his blade. They took some wrong turnings, but once they found the surface Strong Belwas led them to the nearest fighting pit, where they surprised a few guards and struck the chains off the slaves. Within an hour, half the fighting slaves in Meereen had risen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You helped win this city,\" she repeated stubbornly. \"And you have served me well in the past. Ser Barristan saved me from the Titan's Bastard, and from the Sorrowful Man in Qarth. Ser Jorah saved me from the poisoner in Vaes Dothrak, and again from Drogo's bloodriders after my sun-and-stars had died.\" So many people wanted her dead, sometimes she lost count. \"And yet you lied, deceived me, betrayed me.\" She turned to Ser Barristan. \"You protected my father for many years, fought beside my brother on the Trident, but you abandoned Viserys in his exile and bent your knee to the Usurper instead. Why? And tell it true.\"\n\n\"Some truths are hard to hear. Robert was a... a good knight... chivalrous, brave... he spared my life, and the lives of many others... Prince Viserys was only a boy, it would have been years before he was fit to rule, and... forgive me, my queen, but you asked for truth... even as a child, your brother Viserys oft seemed to be his father's son, in ways that Rhaegar never did.\"\n\n\"His father's son?\" Dany frowned. \"What does that mean?\"\n\nThe old knight did not blink. \"Your father is called \"the Mad King\" in Westeros. Has no one ever told you?\"\n\n\"Viserys did.\" The Mad King. \"The Usurper called him that, the Usurper and his dogs.\" The Mad King. \"It was a lie.\"\n\n\"Why ask for truth,\" Ser Barristan said softly, \"if you close your ears to it?\" He hesitated, then continued. \"I told you before that I used a false name so the Lannisters would not know that I'd joined you. That was less than half of it, Your Grace. The truth is, I wanted to watch you fora time before pledging you my sword. To make certain that you were not...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"... my father's daughter?\" If she was not her father's daughter, who was she?\n\n\"... mad,\" he finished. \"But I see no taint in you.\"\n\n\"Taint?\" Dany bristled.\n\n\"I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time anew Targaryen is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.\"\n\nJaehaerys. This old man knew my grandfather. The thought gave her pause. Most of what she knew of Westeros had come from her brother, and the rest from Ser Jorah. Ser Barristan would have forgotten more than the two of them had ever known. This man can tell me what I came from. \"So I am a coin in the hands of some god, is that what you are saying, ser?\"\n\n\"No,\" Ser Barristan replied. \"You are the trueborn heir of Westeros. To the end of my days I shall remain your faithful knight, should you find me worthy to bear a sword again. If not, I am content to serve Strong Belwas as his squire.\"\n\n\"What if I decide you're only worthy to be my fool?\" Dany asked scornfully. \"Or perhaps my cook?\"\n\n\"I would be honored, Your Grace,\" Selmy said with quiet dignity. \"I can bake apples and boil beef as well as any man, and I've roasted many a duck over a campfire. I hope you like them greasy, with charred skin and bloody bones.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That made her smile. \"I'd have to be mad to eat such fare. Ben Plumm, come give Ser Barristan your longsword.\"\n\nBut Whitebeard would not take it. \"I flung my sword at Joffrey's feet and have not touched one since. Only from the hand of my queen will I accept a sword again.\"\n\n\"As you wish.\" Dany took the sword from Brown Ben and offered it hilt first. The old man took it reverently. \"Now kneel,\" she told him, \"and swear it to my service.\"\n\nHe went to one knee and lay the blade before her as he said the words. Dany scarcely heard them. He was the easy one, she thought. The other will be harder. When Ser Barristan was done, she turned to Jorah Mormont. \"And now you, ser. Tell me true.\"\n\nThe big man's neck was red; whether from anger or shame she did not know. \"I have tried to tell you true, half a hundred times. I told you Arstan was more than he seemed. I warned you that Xaro and Pyat Pree were not to be trusted. I warned you-\"\n\n\"You warned me against everyone except yourself.\" His insolence angered her. He should be humbler. He should beg for my forgiveness. \"Trust no one but Jorah Mormont, you said... and all the time you were the Spider's creature!\"\n\n\"I am no man's creature. I took the eunuch's gold, yes. I learned some ciphers and wrote some letters, but that was all-\"\n\n\"All? You spied on me and sold me to my enemies!\"\n\n\"Fora time.\" He said it grudgingly. \"I stopped.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"When?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When did you stop?\"\n\n\"I made one report from Qarth, but-\"\n\n\"From Qarth?\" Dany had been hoping it had ended much earlier. \"What did you write from Quarth? That you were my man now, that you wanted no more of their schemes?\" Ser Jorah could not meet her eyes. \"When Khal Drogo died, you asked me to go with you to Yi Ti and the Jade Sea. Was that your wish or Robert's?\"\n\n\"That was to protect you,\" he insisted. \"To keep you away from them. I knew what snakes they were...\"\n\n\"Snakes? And what are you, ser?\" Something unspeakable occurred to her. \"You told them I was carrying Drogo's child...\"\n\n\"Khaleesi...\"\n\n\"Do not think to deny it, ser,\" Ser Barristan said sharply. \"I was there when the eunuch told the council, and Robert decreed that Her Grace and her child must die. You were the source, ser. There was even talk that you might do the deed, fora pardon.\"\n\n\"A lie.\" Ser Jorah's face darkened. \"I would never... Daenerys, it was me who stopped you from drinking the wine.\"\n\n\"Yes. And how was it you knew the wine was poisoned?\"\n\n\"I... I but suspected... the caravan brought a letter from Varys, he warned me there would be attempts. He wanted you watched, yes, but not harmed.\" He went to his knees. \"If I had not told them someone else would have. You know that.\"\n\n\"I know you betrayed me.\" She touched her belly, where her son Rhaego had perished. \"I know a poisoner tried to kill my son, because of you. That's what I know.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No... no.\" He shook his head. \"I never meant... forgive me. You have to forgive me.\"\n\n\"Have to?\" It was too late. He should have begun by begging forgiveness. She could not pardon him as she'd intended. She had dragged the wineseller behind her horse until there was nothing left of him. Didn't the man who brought him deserve the same? This is Jorah, my fierce bear, the right arm that never failed me. I would be dead without him, but...\"I can't forgive you,\" she said. \"I can't.\"\n\n\"You forgave the old man...\"\n\n\"He lied tome about his name. You sold my secrets to the men who killed my father and stole my brother's throne.\"\n\n\"I protected you. I fought for you. Killed for you.\"\n\nKissed me, she thought, betrayed me.\n\n\"I went down into the sewers like a rat. For you.\"\n\nIt might have been kinder if you'd died there. Dany said nothing. There was nothing to say.\n\n\"Daenerys,\" he said, \"I have loved you.\"\n\nAnd there it was. Three treasons will you know. Once for blood and once for gold and once for love. \"The gods do nothing without a purpose, they say. You did not die in battle, so it must be they still have some use for you. But I don't. I will not have you near me. You are banished, ser. Go back to your masters in King's Landing and collect your pardon, if you can. Or to Astapor. No doubt the butcher king needs knights.\"\n\n\"No.\" He reached for her. \"Daenerys, please, hear me...\"\n\nShe slapped his hand away. \"Do not ever presume to touch me again, or to speak my name. You have until dawn to collect your things and leave this city. If you're found in Meereen past break of day, I will have Strong Belwas twist your head off. I will. Believe that.\" She turned her back on him, her skirts swirling. I cannot bear to see his face. \"Remove this liar from my sight,\" she commanded. I must not weep. I must not. If I weep I will forgive him. Strong Belwas seized Ser Jorah by the arm and dragged him out. When Dany glanced back, the knight was walking as if drunk, stumbling and slow. She looked away until she heard the doors open and close. Then she sank back onto the ebony bench. He's gone, then. My father and my mother, my brothers, Ser Willem Darry, Drogo who was my sun-and-stars, his son who died inside me, and now Ser Jorah..."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The queen has a good heart,\" Daario purred through his deep purple whiskers, \"but that one is more dangerous than all the Oznaks and Meros rolled up in one.\" His strong hands caressed the hilts of his matched blades, those wanton golden women. \"You need not even say the word, my radiance. Only give the tiniest nod, and your Daario shall fetch you back his ugly head.\"\n\n\"Leave him be. The scales are balanced now. Let him go home.\" Dany pictured Jorah moving amongst old gnarled oaks and tall pines, past flowering thornbushes, grey stones bearded with moss, and little creeks running icy down steep hillsides. She saw him entering a hall built of huge logs, where dogs slept by the hearth and the smell of meat and mead hung thick in the smoky air. \"We are done for now,\" she told her captains.\n\nIt was all she could do not to run backup the wide marble stairs. Irri helped her slip from her court clothes and into more comfortable garb; baggy woolen breeches, a loose felted tunic, a painted Dothraki vest. \"You are trembling, Khaleesi,\" the girl said as she knelt to lace up Dany's sandals.\n\n\"I'm cold,\" Dany lied. \"Bring me the book I was reading last night.\" She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children's stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When her handmaid brought the book, Dany had no trouble finding the page where she had left off, but it was no good. She found herself reading the same passage half a dozen times. Ser Jorah gave me this book as a bride's gift, the day I wed Khal Drogo. But Daario is right, I shouldn't have banished him. I should have kept him, or I should have killed him. She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him.\n\nDany fled from the choice, out onto the terrace. She found Rhaegal asleep beside the pool, a green and bronze coil basking in the sun. Drogon was perched up atop the pyramid, in the place where the huge bronze harpy had stood before she had commanded it to be pulled down. He spread his wings and roared when he spied her. There was no sign of Viserion, but when she went to the parapet and scanned the horizon she saw pale wings in the far distance, sweeping above the river. He is hunting. They grow bolder everyday. Yet it still made her anxious when they flew too faraway. One day one of them may not return, she thought.\n\n\"Your Grace?\"\n\nShe turned to find Ser Barristan behind her. \"What more would you have of me, ser? I spared you, I took you into my service, now give me some peace.\"\n\n\"Forgive me, Your Grace. It was only... now that you know who I am...\" The old man hesitated. \"A knight of the Kingsguard is in the king's presence day and night. For that reason, our vows require us to protect his secrets as we would his life. But your father's secrets by rights belong to you now, along with his throne, and... I thought perhaps you might have questions for me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Questions? She had a hundred questions, a thousand, ten thousand. Why couldn't she think of one? \"Was my father truly mad?\" she blurted out. Why do I ask that? \"Viserys said this talk of madness was a ploy of the Usurper's...\"\n\n\"Viserys was a child, and the queen sheltered him as much as she could. Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise... but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until...\"\n\nDany stopped him. \"Do I want to hear this now?\"\n\nSer Barristan considered a moment. \"Perhaps not. Not now.\"\n\n\"Not now,\" she agreed. \"One day. One day you must tell me all. The good and the bad. There is some good to be said of my father, surely?\"\n\n\"There is, Your Grace. Of him, and those who came before him. Your grandfather Jaehaerys and his brother, their father Aegon, your mother... and Rhaegar. Him most of all.\"\n\n\"I wish I could have known him.\" Her voice was wistful.\n\n\"I wish he could have known you,\" the old knight said. \"When you are ready, I will tell you all.\"\n\nDany kissed him on the cheek and sent him on his way.\n\nThat night her handmaids brought her lamb, with a salad of raisins and carrots soaked in wine, and a hot flaky bread dripping with honey. She could eat none of it. Did Rhaegar ever grow so weary? she wondered. Did Aegon, after his conquest?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Later, when the time came for sleep, Dany took Irri into bed with her, for the first time since the ship. But even as she shuddered in release and wound her fingers through her handmaid's thick black hair, she pretended it was Drogo holding her... only somehow his face kept turning into Daario's. If I want Daario I need only say so. She lay with Irri's legs entangled in her own. His eyes looked almost purple today...\n\nDany's dreams were dark that night, and she woke three times from half-remembered nightmares. After the third time she was too restless to return to sleep. Moonlight streamed through the slanting windows, silvering the marble floors. A cool breeze was blowing through the open terrace doors. Irri slept soundly beside her, her lips slightly parted, one dark brown nipple peeping out above the sleeping silks. Fora moment Dany was tempted, but it was Drogo she wanted, or perhaps Daario. Not Irri. The maid was sweet and skillful, but all her kisses tasted of duty.\n\nShe rose, leaving Irri asleep in the moonlight. Jhiqui and Missandei slept in their own beds. Dany slipped on a robe and padded barefoot across the marble floor, out onto the terrace. The air was chilly, but she liked the feel of grass between her toes and the sound of the leaves whispering to one another. Wind ripples chased each other across the surface of the little bathing pool and made the moon's reflection dance and shimmer.\n\nShe leaned against a low brick parapet to look down upon the city. Meereen was sleeping too. Lost in dreams of kinder days, perhaps. Night covered the streets like a black blanket, hiding the corpses and the grey rats that came up from the sewers to feast on them, the swarms of stinging flies. Distant torches glimmered red and yellow where her sentries walked their rounds, and here and there she saw the faint glow of lanterns bobbing down an alley. Perhaps one was Ser Jorah, leading his horse slowly toward the gate. Farewell, old bear. Farewell, betrayer."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, khaleesi and queen, Mother of Dragons, slayer of warlocks, breaker of chains, and there was no one in the world that she could trust.\n\n\"Your Grace?\" Missandei stood at her elbow wrapped in a bedrobe, wooden sandals on her feet. \"I woke, and saw that you were gone. Did you sleep well? What are you looking at?\"\n\n\"My city,\" said Dany. \"I was looking fora house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black.\"\n\n\"A red door?\" Missandei was puzzled. \"What house is this?\"\n\n\"No house. It does not matter.\" Dany took the younger girl by the hand. \"Never lie tome, Missandei. Never betray me.\"\n\n\"I never would,\" Missandei promised. \"Look, dawn comes.\"\n\nThe sky had turned a cobalt blue from the horizon to the zenith, and behind the line of low hills to the east aglow could be seen, pale gold and oyster pink. Dany held Missandei's hand as they watched the sun come up. All the grey bricks became red and yellow and blue and green and orange. The scarlet sands of the fighting pits transformed them into bleeding sores before her eyes. Elsewhere the golden dome of the Temple of the Graces blazed bright, and bronze stars winked along the walls where the light of the rising sun touched the spikes on the helms of the Unsullied. On the terrace, a few flies stirred sluggishly. A bird began to chirp in the persimmon tree, and then two more. Dany cocked her head to hear their song, but it was not long before the sounds of the waking city drowned them out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The sounds of my city.\n\nThat morning she summoned her captains and commanders to the garden, rather than descending to the audience chamber. \"Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver's Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.\"\n\n\"There is nothing to stay for,\" said Brown Ben Plumm.\n\n\"Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,\" said Daario Naharis.\n\n\"You have brought freedom as well,\" Missandei pointed out.\n\n\"Freedom to starve?\" asked Dany sharply. \"Freedom to die? Am Ia dragon, or a harpy?\" Am I mad? Do I have the taint?\n\n\"A dragon,\" Ser Barristan said with certainty. \"Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.\"\n\n\"But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?\" He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. \"My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I've freed allover again.\" She turned back to look at their faces. \"I will not march.\"\n\n\"What will you do then, Khaleesi?\" asked Rakharo.\n\n\"Stay,\" she said. \"Rule. And be a queen.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "JAIME\n\nThe king sat at the head of the table, a stack of cushions under his arse, signing each document as it was presented to him.\n\n\"Only a few more, Your Grace,\" Ser Kevan Lannister assured him. \"This is a bill of attainder against Lord Edmure Tully, stripping him of Riverrun and all its lands and incomes, for rebelling against his lawful king. This is a similar attainder, against his uncle Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish.\" Tommen signed them one after the other, dipping the quill carefully and writing his name in abroad childish hand.\n\nJaime watched from the foot of the table, thinking of all those lords who aspired to a seat on the king's small council. They can bloody well have mine. If this was power, why did it taste like tedium? He did not feel especially powerful, watching Tommen dip his quill in the inkpot again. He felt bored.\n\nAnd sore. Every muscle in his body ached, and his ribs and shoulders were bruised from the battering they'd gotten, courtesy of Ser Addam Marbrand. Just thinking of it made him wince. He could only hope the man would keep his mouth shut. Jaime had known Marbrand since he was a boy, serving as a page at Casterly Rock; he trusted him as much as he trusted anyone. Enough to ask him to take up shields and tourney swords. He had wanted to know if he could fight with his left hand.\n\nAnd now I do. The knowledge was more painful than the beating that Ser Addam had given him, and the beating was so bad he could hardly dress himself this morning. If they had been fighting in earnest, Jaime would have died two dozen deaths. It seemed so simple, changing hands. It wasn't. Every instinct he had was wrong. He had to think about everything, where once he'd just moved. And while he was thinking, Marbrand was thumping him. His left hand couldn't even seem to hold a longsword properly; Ser Addam had disarmed him thrice, sending his blade spinning."
}
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[
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"value": "As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 74"
},
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"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "JAIME\n\nThe king sat at the head of the table, a stack of cushions under his arse, signing each document as it was presented to him.\n\n\"Only a few more, Your Grace,\" Ser Kevan Lannister assured him. \"This is a bill of attainder against Lord Edmure Tully, stripping him of Riverrun and all its lands and incomes, for rebelling against his lawful king. This is a similar attainder, against his uncle Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish.\" Tommen signed them one after the other, dipping the quill carefully and writing his name in abroad childish hand.\n\nJaime watched from the foot of the table, thinking of all those lords who aspired to a seat on the king's small council. They can bloody well have mine. If this was power, why did it taste like tedium? He did not feel especially powerful, watching Tommen dip his quill in the inkpot again. He felt bored.\n\nAnd sore. Every muscle in his body ached, and his ribs and shoulders were bruised from the battering they'd gotten, courtesy of Ser Addam Marbrand. Just thinking of it made him wince. He could only hope the man would keep his mouth shut. Jaime had known Marbrand since he was a boy, serving as a page at Casterly Rock; he trusted him as much as he trusted anyone. Enough to ask him to take up shields and tourney swords. He had wanted to know if he could fight with his left hand.\n\nAnd now I do. The knowledge was more painful than the beating that Ser Addam had given him, and the beating was so bad he could hardly dress himself this morning. If they had been fighting in earnest, Jaime would have died two dozen deaths. It seemed so simple, changing hands. It wasn't. Every instinct he had was wrong. He had to think about everything, where once he'd just moved. And while he was thinking, Marbrand was thumping him. His left hand couldn't even seem to hold a longsword properly; Ser Addam had disarmed him thrice, sending his blade spinning."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This grants said lands, incomes, and castle to Ser Emmon Frey and his lady wife, Lady Genna.\" Ser Kevan presented another sheaf of parchments to the king. Tommen dipped and signed. \"This is a decree of legitimacy fora natural son of Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort. And this names Lord Bolton your Warden of the North.\" Tommen dipped, signed, dipped, signed. \"This grants Ser Rolph Spicer title to the castle Castamere and raises him to the rank of lord.\" Tommen scrawled his name.\n\nI should have gone to Ser Ilyn Payne, Jaime reflected. The King's Justice was not a friend as Marbrand was, and might well have beat him bloody... but without a tongue, he was not like to boast of it afterward. All it would take would be one chance remark by Ser Addam in his cups, and the whole world would soon know how useless he'd become. Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. It was a cruel jape, that... though not quite so cruel as the gift his father had sent him.\n\n\"This is your royal pardon for Lord Gawen Westerling, his lady wife, and his daughter Jeyne, welcoming them back into the king's peace,\" Ser Kevan said. \"This is a pardon for Lord Jonos Bracken of Stone Hedge. This is a pardon for Lord Vance. This for Lord Goodbrook. This for Lord Mooton of Maidenpool.\"\n\nJaime pushed himself to his feet. \"You seem to have these matters well in hand, Uncle. I shall leave His Grace to you.\"\n\n\"As you wish.\" Ser Kevan rose as well. \"Jaime, you should go to your father. This breach between you-\"\n\n\"-is his doing. Nor will he mend it by sending me mocking gifts. Tell him that, if you can pry him away from the Tyrells long enough.\""
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "His uncle looked distressed. \"The gift was heartfelt. We thought that it might encourage you-\"\n\n\"-to grow anew hand?\" Jaime turned to Tommen. Though he had Joffrey's golden curls and green eyes, the new king shared little else with his late brother. He inclined to plumpness, his face was pink and round, and he even liked to read. He is still shy of nine, this son of mine. The boy is not the man. It would be seven years before Tommen was ruling in his own right. Until then the realm would remain firmly in the hands of his lord grandfather. \"Sire,\" he asked, \"do I have your leave to go?\"\n\n\"As you like, Ser Uncle.\" Tommen looked back to Ser Kevan. \"Can I seal them now, Great-Uncle?\" Pressing his royal seal into the hot wax was his favorite part of being king, so far.\n\nJaime strode from the council chamber. Outside the door he found Ser Meryn Trant standing stiff at guard in white scale armor and snowy cloak. If this one should learn how feeble I am, or Kettleblack or Blount should hear of it...\"Remain here until His Grace is done,\" he said, \"then escort him back to Maegor's.\"\n\nTrant inclined his head. \"As you say, my lord.\"\n\nThe outer ward was crowded and noisy that morning. Jaime made for the stables, where a large group of men were saddling their horses. \"Steelshanks!\" he called. \"Are you off, then?\"\n\n\"As soon as m'lady is mounted,\" said Steelshanks Walton. \"My lord of Bolton expects us. Here she is now.\"\n\nA groom led a fine grey mare out the stable door. On her back was mounted a skinny hollow-eyed girl wrapped in a heavy cloak. Grey, it was, like the dress beneath it, and trimmed with white satin. The clasp that pinned it to her breast was wrought in the shape of a wolf's head with slitted opal eyes. The girl's long brown hair blew wild in the wind. She had a pretty face, he thought, but her eyes were sad and wary."
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"value": "When she saw him, she inclined her head. \"Ser Jaime,\" she said in a thin anxious voice. \"You are kind to see me off.\"\n\nJaime studied her closely. \"You know me, then?\"\n\nShe bit her lip. \"You may not recall, my lord, as I was littler then... but I had the honor to meet you at Winterfell when King Robert came to visit my father Lord Eddard.\" She lowered her big brown eyes and mumbled, \"I'm Arya Stark.\"\n\nJaime had never paid much attention to Arya Stark, but it seemed to him that this girl was older. \"I understand you're to be married.\"\n\n\"I am towed Lord Bolton's son, Ramsay. He used to be a Snow, but His Grace has made him a Bolton. They say he's very brave. I am so happy.\"\n\nThen why do you sound so frightened? \"I wish you joy, my lady.\" Jaime turned back to Steelshanks. \"You have the coin you were promised?\"\n\n\"Aye, and we've shared it out. You have my thanks.\" The northman grinned. \"A Lannister always pays his debts.\"\n\n\"Always,\" said Jaime, with a last glance at the girl. He wondered if there was much resemblance. Not that it mattered. The real Arya Stark was buried in some unmarked grave in Flea Bottom in all likelihood. With her brothers dead, and both parents, who would dare name this one a fraud? \"Good speed,\" he told Steelshanks. Nage raised his peace banner, and the northmen formed a column as ragged as their fur cloaks and trotted out the castle gate. The thin girl on the grey mare looked small and forlorn in their midst."
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"value": "A few of the horses still shied away from the dark splotch on the hard-packed ground where the earth had drunk the life's blood of the stableboy Gregor Clegane had killed so clumsily. The sight of it made Jaime angry allover again. He had told his Kingsguard to keep the crowd out of the way, but that oaf Ser Boros had let himself be distracted by the duel. The fool boy himself shared some of the blame, to be sure; the dead Dornishman as well. And Clegane most of all. The blow that took the boy's arm off had been mischance, but that second cut...\n\nWell, Gregor is paying for it now. Grand Maester Pycelle was tending to the man's wounds, but the howls heard ringing from the maester's chambers suggested that the healing was not going as well as it might. \"The flesh mortifies and the wounds ooze pus,\" Pycelle told the council. \"Even maggots will not touch such foulness. His convulsions are so violent that I have had to gag him to prevent him from biting off his tongue. I have cutaway as much tissue as I dare, and treated the rot with boiling wine and bread mold, to no avail. The veins in his arm are turning black. When I leeched him, all the leeches died. My lords, I must know what malignant substance Prince Oberyn used on his spear. Let us detain these other Dornishmen until they are more forthcoming.\"\n\nLord Tywin had refused him. \"There will be trouble enough with Sunspear over Prince Oberyn's death. I do not mean to make matters worse by holding his companions captive.\"\n\n\"Then I fear Ser Gregor may die.\"\n\n\"Undoubtedly. I swore as much in the letter I sent to Prince Doran with his brother's body. But it must be seen to be the sword of the King's Justice that slays him, not a poisoned spear. Heal him.\""
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"value": "Grand Maester Pycelle blinked in dismay. \"My lord-\"\n\n\"Heal him,\" Lord Tywin said again, vexed. \"You are aware that Lord Varys has sent fishermen into the waters around Dragonstone. They report that only a token force remains to defend the island. The Lyseni are gone from the bay, and the great part of Lord Stannis's strength with them.\"\n\n\"Welland good,\" announced Pycelle. \"Let Stannis rot in Lys, I say. We are well rid of the man and his ambitions.\"\n\n\"Did you turn into an utter fool when Tyrion shaved your beard? This is Stannis Baratheon. The man will fight to the bitter end and then some. If he is gone, it can only mean he intends to resume the war. Most likely he will land at Storm's End and try and rouse the storm lords. If so, he's finished. But a bolder man might roll the dice for Dorne. If he should win Sunspear to his cause, he might prolong this war for years. So we will not offend the Martells any further, for any reason. The Dornishmen are free to go, and you will heal Ser Gregor.\"\n\nAnd so the Mountain screamed, day and night. Lord Tywin Lannister could cow even the Stranger, it would seem.\n\nAs Jaime climbed the winding steps of White Sword Tower, he could hear Ser Boros snoring in his cell. Ser Balon's door was shut as well; he had the king tonight, and would sleep all day. Aside from Blount's snores, the tower was very quiet. That suited Jaime well enough. I ought to rest myself. Last night, after his dance with Ser Addam, he'd been too sore to sleep."
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"value": "But when he stepped into his bedchamber, he found his sister waiting for him.\n\nShe stood beside the open window, looking over the curtain walls and out to sea. The bay wind swirled around her, flattening her gown against her body in away that quickened Jaime's pulse. It was white, that gown, like the hangings on the wall and the draperies on his bed. Swirls of tiny emeralds brightened the ends of her wide sleeves and spiraled down her bodice. Larger emeralds were set in the golden spiderweb that bound her golden hair. The gown was cut low, to bare her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. She is so beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms.\n\n\"Cersei.\" He closed the door softly. \"Why are you here?\"\n\n\"Where else could I go?\" When she turned to him there were tears in her eyes. \"Father's made it clear that I am no longer wanted on the council. Jaime, won't you talk to him?\"\n\nJaime took off his cloak and hung it from a peg on the wall. \"I talk to Lord Tywin everyday.\"\n\n\"Must you be so stubborn? All he wants...\"\n\n\"... is to force me from the Kingsguard and send me back to Casterly Rock.\"\n\n\"That need not be so terrible. He is sending me back to Casterly Rock as well. He wants me faraway, so he'll have a freehand with Tommen. Tommen is my son, not his!\"\n\n\"Tommen is the king.\"\n\n\"He is a boy! A frightened little boy who saw his brother murdered at his own wedding. And now they are telling him that he must marry. The girl is twice his age and twice a widow!\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "He eased himself into a chair, trying to ignore the ache of bruised muscles."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Tyrells are insisting. I see no harm in it. Tommen's been lonely since Myrcella went to Dorne. He likes having Margaery and her ladies about. Let them wed.\"\n\n\"He is your son...\"\n\n\"He is my seed. He's never called me Father. No more than Joffrey ever did. You warned me a thousand times never to show any undue interest in them.\"\n\n\"To keep them safe! You as well. How would it have looked if my brother had played the father to the king's children? Even Robert might have grown suspicious.\"\n\n\"Well, he's beyond suspicion now.\" Robert's death still left a bitter taste in Jaime's mouth. It should have been me who killed him, not Cersei. \"I only wished he'd died at my hands.\" When I still had two of them. \"If I'd let kingslaying become a habit, as he liked to say, I could have taken you as my wife for all the world to see. I'm not ashamed of loving you, only of the things I've done to hide it. That boy at Winterfell...\"\n\n\"Did I tell you to throw him out the window? If you'd gone hunting as I begged you, nothing would have happened. But no, you had to have me, you could not wait until we returned to the city.\"\n\n\"I'd waited long enough. I hated watching Robert stumble to your bed every night, always wondering if maybe this night he'd decide to claim his rights as husband.\" Jaime suddenly remembered something else that troubled him about Winterfell. \"At Riverrun, Catelyn Stark seemed convinced I'd sent some footpad to slither son's throat. That I'd given him a dagger.\"\n\n\"That,\" she said scornfully. \"Tyrion asked me about that.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"There was a dagger."
},
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"value": "The scars on Lady Catelyn's hands were real enough, she showed them tome. Did you...?\"\n\n\"Oh, don't be absurd.\" Cersei closed the window. \"Yes, I hoped the boy would die. So did you. Even Robert thought that would have been for the best.\"We kill our horses when they break a leg, and our dogs when they go blind, but we are too weak to give the same mercy to crippled children, ' he told me. He was blind himself at the time, from drink.\"\n\nRobert? Jaime had guarded the king long enough to know that Robert Baratheon said things in his cups that he would have denied angrily the next day. \"Were you alone when Robert said this?\"\n\n\"You don't think he said it to Ned Stark, I hope? Of course we were alone. Us and the children.\" Cersei removed her hairnet and draped it over a bedpost, then shook out her golden curls. \"Perhaps Myrcella sent this man with the dagger, do you think so?\"\n\nIt was meant as mockery, but she'd cut right to the heart of it, Jaime saw at once. \"Not Myrcella. Joffrey.\"\n\nCersei frowned. \"Joffrey had no love for Robb Stark, but the younger boy was nothing to him. He was only a child himself.\"\n\n\"A child hungry fora pat on the head from that sot you let him believe was his father.\" He had an uncomfortable thought. \"Tyrion almost died because of this bloody dagger. If he knew the whole thing was Joffrey's work, that might be why...\"\n\n\"I don't care why,\" Cersei said. \"He can take his reasons down to hell with him. If you had seen how Joff died... he fought, Jaime, he fought for every breath, but it was as if some malign spirit had its hands about his throat. He had such terror in his eyes... When he was little, he'd run tome when he was scared or hurt and I would protect him. But that night there was nothing I could do. Tyrion murdered him in front of me, and there was nothing I could do.\" Cersei sank to her knees before his chair and took Jaime's good hand between both of hers. \"Joff is dead and Myrcella's in Dorne. Tommen's all I have left. You mustn't let Father take him from me. Jaime, please.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lord Tywin has not asked for my approval. I can talk to him, but he will not listen...\"\n\n\"He will if you agree to leave the Kingsguard.\"\n\n\"I'm not leaving the Kingsguard.\"\n\nHis sister fought back tears. \"Jaime, you're my shining knight. You cannot abandon me when I need you most! He is stealing my son, sending me away... and unless you stop him, Father is going to force me towed again!\"\n\nJaime should not have been surprised, but he was. The words were a blow to his gut harder than any that Ser Addam Marbrand had dealt him. \"Who?\"\n\n\"Does it matter? Some lord or other. Someone Father thinks he needs. I don't care. I will not have another husband. You are the only man I want in my bed, ever again.\"\n\n\"Then tell him that!\"\n\nShe pulled her hands away. \"You are talking madness again. Would you have us ripped apart, as Mother did that time she caught us playing? Tommen would lose the throne, Myrcella her marriage... I want to be your wife, we belong to each other, but it can never be, Jaime. We are brother and sister.\"\n\n\"The Targaryens...\"\n\n\"We are not Targaryens!\"\n\n\"Quiet,\" he said, scornfully. \"So loud, you'll wake my Sworn Brothers. We can't have that, now, can we? People might learn that you had come to see me.\"\n\n\"Jaime,\" she sobbed, \"don't you think I want it as much as you do? It makes no matter who they wed me to, I want you at my side, I want you in my bed, I want you inside me. Nothing has changed between us. Let me prove it to you.\" She pushed up his tunic and began to fumble with the laces of his breeches."
},
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"value": "Jaime felt himself responding. \"No,\" he said, \"not here.\" They had never done it in White Sword Tower, much less in the Lord Commander's chambers. \"Cersei, this is not the place.\"\n\n\"You took me in the sept. This is no different.\" She drew out his cock and bent her head over it.\n\nJaime pushed her away with the stump of his right hand. \"No. Not here, I said.\" He forced himself to stand.\n\nFor an instant he could see confusion in her bright green eyes, and fear as well. Then rage replaced it. Cersei gathered herself together, got to her feet, straightened her skirts. \"Was it your hand they hacked off in Harrenhal, or your manhood?\" As she shook her head, her hair tumbled around her bare white shoulders. \"I was a fool to come. You lacked the courage to avenge Joffrey, why would I think that you'd protect Tommen? Tell me, if the Imp had killed all three of your children, would that have made you wroth?\"\n\n\"Tyrion is not going to harm Tommen or Myrcella. I am still not certain he killed Joffrey.\"\n\nHer mouth twisted in anger. \"How can you say that? After all his threats-\"\n\n\"Threats mean nothing. He swears he did not do it.\"\n\n\"Oh, he swears, is that it? And dwarfs don't lie, is that what you think?\"\n\n\"Not tome. No more than you would.\"\n\n\"You great golden fool. He's lied to you a thousand times, and so have I.\" She bound up her hair again, and scooped up the hairnet from the bedpost where she'd hung it. \"Think what you will. The little monster is in a black cell, and soon Ser Ilyn will have his head off. Perhaps you'd like it fora keepsake.\" She glanced at the pillow. \"He can watch over you as you sleep alone in that cold white bed. Until his eyes rot out, that is.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You had best go, Cersei. You're making me angry.\"\n\n\"Oh, an angry cripple. How terrifying.\" She laughed. \"A pity Lord Tywin Lannister never had a son. I could have been the heir he wanted, but I lacked the cock. And speaking of such, best tuck yours away, brother. It looks rather sad and small, hanging from your breeches like that.\"\n\nWhen she was gone Jaime took her advice, fumbling one-handed at his laces. He felt a bone-deep ache in his phantom fingers. I've lost a hand, a father, a son, a sister, and a lover, and soon enough I will lose a brother. And yet they keep telling me House Lannister won this war.\n\nJaime donned his cloak and went downstairs, where he found Ser Boros Blount having a cup of wine in the common room. \"When you're done with your drink, tell Ser Loras I'm ready to see her.\"\n\nSer Boros was too much of a coward to do much more than glower. \"You are ready to see who?\"\n\n\"Just tell Loras.\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Ser Boros drained his cup. \"Aye, Lord Commander.\"\n\nHe took his own good time about it, though, or else the Knight of Flowers proved hard to find. Several hours had passed by the time they arrived, the slim handsome youth and the big ugly maid. Jaime was sitting alone in the round room, leafing idly through the White Book. \"Lord Commander,\" Ser Loras said, \"you wished to seethe Maid of Tarth?\"\n\n\"I did.\" Jaime waved them closer with his left hand. \"You have talked with her, I take it?\""
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As you commanded, my lord.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\nThe lad tensed. \"I... it maybe it happened as she says, ser. That it was Stannis. I cannot be certain.\"\n\n\"Varys tells me that the castellan of Storm's End perished strangely as well,\" said Jaime.\n\n\"Ser Cortnay Penrose,\" said Brienne sadly. \"A good man.\"\n\n\"A stubborn man. One day he stood square in the way of the King of Dragonstone. The next he leapt from a tower.\" Jaime stood. \"Ser Loras, we will talk more of this later. You may leave Brienne with me.\"\n\nThe wench looked as ugly and awkward as ever, he decided when Tyrell left them. Someone had dressed her in woman's clothes again, but this dress fit much better than that hideous pink rag the goat had made her wear. \"Blue is a good color on you, my lady,\" Jaime observed. \"It goes well with your eyes.\" She does have astonishing eyes.\n\nBrienne glanced down at herself, flustered. \"Septa Donyse padded out the bodice, to give it that shape. She said you sent her tome.\" She lingered by the door, as if she meant to flee at any second. \"You look...\"\n\n\"Different?\" He managed a half-smile. \"More meat on the ribs and fewer lice in my hair, that's all. The stump's the same. Close the door and come here.\"\n\nShe did as he bid her. \"The white cloak...\"\n\n\"... is new, but I'm sure I'll soil it soon enough.\"\n\n\"That wasn't... I was about to say that it becomes you.\"\n\nShe came closer, hesitant. \"Jaime, did you mean what you told Ser Loras? About... about King Renly, and the shadow?\""
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jaime shrugged. \"I would have killed Renly myself if we'd met in battle, what do I care who cut his throat?\"\n\n\"You said I had honor...\"\n\n\"I'm the bloody Kingslayer, remember? When I say you have honor, that's like a whore vouchsafing your maidenhood.\" He leaned back and looked up at her. \"Steelshanks is on his way back north, to deliver Arya Stark to Roose Bolton.\"\n\n\"You gave her to him?\" she cried, dismayed. \"You swore an oath to Lady Catelyn...\"\n\n\"With a sword at my throat, but never mind. Lady Catelyn's dead. I could not give her back her daughters even if I had them. And the girl my father sent with Steelshanks was not Arya Stark.\"\n\n\"Not Arya Stark?\"\n\n\"You heard me. My lord father found some skinny northern girl more or less the same age with more or less the same coloring. He dressed her up in white and grey, gave her a silver wolf to pin her cloak, and sent her off towed Bolton's bastard.\" He lifted his stump to point at her. \"I wanted to tell you that before you went galloping off to rescue her and got yourself killed for no good purpose. You're not half bad with a sword, but you're not good enough to take on two hundred men by yourself.\"\n\nBrienne shook her head. \"When Lord Bolton learns that your father paid him with false coin...\"\n\n\"Oh, he knows. Lannisters lie, remember? It makes no matter, this girl serves his purpose just as well. Who is going to say that she isn't Arya Stark? Everyone the girl was close to is dead except for her sister, who has disappeared.\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why would you tell me all this, if it's true? You are betraying your father's secrets.\"\n\nThe Hand's secrets, he thought. I no longer have a father. \"I pay my debts like every good little lion. I did promise Lady Stark her daughters... and one of them is still alive. My brother may know where she is, but if so he isn't saying. Cersei is convinced that Sansa helped him murder Joffrey.\"\n\nThe wench's mouth got stubborn. \"I will not believe that gentle girl a poisoner. Lady Catelyn said that she had a loving heart. It was your brother. There was atrial, Ser Loras said.\"\n\n\"Two trials, actually. Words and swords both failed him. A bloody mess. Did you watch from your window?\"\n\n\"My cell faces the sea. I heard the shouting, though.\"\n\n\"Prince Oberyn of Dorne is dead, Ser Gregor Clegane lies dying, and Tyrion stands condemned before the eyes of gods and men. They're keeping him in a black cell till they kill him.\"\n\nBrienne looked at him. \"You do not believe he did it.\"\n\nJaime gave her a hard smile. \"See, wench? We know each other too well. Tyrion's wanted to be me since he took his first step, but he'd never follow me in kingslaying. Sansa Stark killed Joffrey. My brother's kept silent to protect her. He gets these fits of gallantry from time to time. The last one cost him a nose. This time it will mean his head.\"\n\n\"No,\" Brienne said. \"It was not my lady's daughter. It could not have been her.\"\n\n\"There's the stubborn stupid wench that I remember.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She reddened. \"My name is...\"\n\n\"Brienne of Tarth.\" Jaime sighed. \"I have a gift for you.\" He reached down under the Lord Commander's chair and brought it out, wrapped in folds of crimson velvet.\n\nBrienne approached as if the bundle was like to bite her, reached out a huge freckled hand, and flipped back a fold of cloth. Rubies glimmered in the light. She picked the treasure up gingerly, curled her fingers around the leather grip, and slowly slid the sword free of its scabbard. Blood and black the ripples shone. A finger of reflected light ran red along the edge. \"Is this Valyrian steel? I have never seen such colors.\"\n\n\"Nor I. There was a time that I would have given my right hand to wield a sword like that. Now it appears I have, so the blade is wasted on me. Take it.\" Before she could think to refuse, he went on. \"A sword so fine must bear a name. It would please me if you would call this one Oathkeeper. One more thing. The blade comes with a price.\"\n\nHer face darkened. \"I told you, I will never serve...\"\n\n\"... such foul creatures as us. Yes, I recall. Hear me out, Brienne. Both of us swore oaths concerning Sansa Stark. Cersei means to see that the girl is found and killed, wherever she has gone to ground...\"\n\nBrienne's homely face twisted in fury. \"If you believe that I would harm my lady's daughter fora sword, you-\"\n\n\"Just listen,\" he snapped, angered by her assumption. \"I want you to find Sansa first, and get her somewhere safe. How else are the two of us going to make good our stupid vows to your precious dead Lady Catelyn?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The wench blinked."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I... I thought...\"\n\n\"I know what you thought.\" Suddenly Jaime was sick of the sight of her. She bleats like a bloody sheep. \"When Ned Stark died, his greatsword was given to the King's Justice,\" he told her. \"But my father felt that such a fine blade was wasted on a mere headsman. He gave Ser Ilyn anew sword, and had Ice melted down and reforged. There was enough metal for two new blades. You're holding one. So you'll be defending Ned Stark's daughter with Ned Stark's own steel, if that makes any difference to you.\"\n\n\"Ser, I... I owe you an apolo...\"\n\nHe cut her off. \"Take the bloody sword and go, before I change my mind. There's a bay mare in the stables, as homely as you are but somewhat better trained. Chase after Steelshanks, search for Sansa, or ride home to your isle of sapphires, it's naught tome. I don't want to look at you anymore.\"\n\n\"Jaime...\"\n\n\"Kingslayer,\" he reminded her. \"Best use that sword to clean the wax out of your ears, wench. We're done.\"\n\nStubbornly, she persisted. \"Joffrey was your...\"\n\n\"My king. Leave it at that.\"\n\n\"You say Sansa killed him. Why protect her?\"\n\nBecause Joff was no more tome than a squirt of seed in Cersei's cunt. And because he deserved to die. \"I have made kings and unmade them. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor.\" Jaime smiled thinly. \"Besides, kingslayers should band together. Are you ever going to go?\"\n\nHer big hand wrapped tight around Oathkeeper. \"I will. And I will find the girl and keep her safe. For her lady mother's sake. And for yours.\" She bowed stiffly, whirled, and went."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jaime sat alone at the table while the shadows crept across the room. As dusk began to settle, he lit a candle and opened the White Book to his own page. Quill and ink he found in a drawer. Beneath the last line Ser Barristan had entered, he wrote in an awkward hand that might have done credit to a six-year-old being taught his first letters by a maester:\n\nDefeated in the Whispering Wood by the Young Wolf Robb Stark during the War of the Five Kings. Held captive at Riverrun and ransomed fora promise unfulfilled. Captured again by the Brave Companions, and maimed at the word of Vargo Hoat their captain, losing his sword hand to the blade of Zollo the Fat. Returned safely to King's Landing by Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.\n\nWhen he was done, more than three-quarters of his page still remained to be filled between the gold lion on the crimson shield on top and the blank white shield at the bottom. Ser Gerold Hightower had begun his history, and Ser Barristan Selmy had continued it, but the rest Jaime Lannister would need to write for himself. He could write whatever he chose, henceforth.\n\nWhatever he chose..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JON\n\nThe wind was blowing wild from the east, so strong the heavy cage would rock whenever a gust got it in its teeth. It skirled along the Wall, shivering off the ice, making Jon's cloak flap against the bars. The sky was slate grey, the sun no more than a faint patch of brightness behind the clouds. Across the killing ground, he could seethe glimmer of a thousand campfires burning, but their lights seemed small and powerless against such gloom and cold.\n\nA grim day. Jon Snow wrapped gloved hands around the bars and held tight as the wind hammered at the cage once more. When he looked straight down past his feet, the ground was lost in shadow, as if he were being lowered into some bottomless pit. Well, death is a bottomless pit of sorts, he reflected, and when this day's work is done my name will be shadowed forever.\n\nBastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous. Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb. I made a botch of that. Robb had become a hero king; if Jon was remembered at all, it would be as a turncloak, an oathbreaker, and a murderer. He was glad that Lord Eddard was not alive to see his shame.\n\nI should have stayed in that cave with Ygritte. If there was a life beyond this one, he hoped to tell her that. She will claw my face the way the eagle did, and curse me fora coward, but I'll tell her all the same. He flexed his sword hand, as Maester Aemon had taught him. The habit had become part of him, and he would need his fingers to be limber to have even half a chance of murdering Mance Rayder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had pulled him out this morning, after four days in the ice, locked up in a cell five by five by five, too low for him to stand, too tight for him to stretch out on his back. The stewards had long ago discovered that food and meat kept longer in the icy storerooms carved from the base of the Wall... but prisoners did not. \"You will die inhere, Lord Snow,\" Ser Alliser had said just before he closed the heavy wooden door, and Jon had believed it. But this morning they had come and pulled him out again, and marched him cramped and shivering back to the King's Tower, to stand before jowly Janos Slynt once more\n\n\"That old maester says I cannot hang you,\" Slynt declared. \"He has written Cotter Pyke, and even had the bloody gall to show me the letter. He says you are no turncloak.\"\n\n\"Aemon's lived too long, my lord,\" Ser Alliser assured him. \"His wits have gone dark as his eyes.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Slynt said. \"A blind man with a chain about his neck, who does he think he is?\"\n\nAemon Targaryen, Jon thought, a king's son and a king's brother and a king who might have been. But he said nothing.\n\n\"Still,\" Slynt said, \"I will not have it said that Janos Slynt hanged a man unjustly. I will not. I have decided to give you one last chance to prove you areas loyal as you claim, Lord Snow. One last chance to do your duty, yes!\" He stood. \"Mance Rayder wants to parley with us. He knows he has no chance now that Janos Slynt has come, so he wants to talk, this King-beyond-the-Wall. But the man is craven, and will not come to us. No doubt he knows I'd hang him. Hang him by his feet from the top of the Wall, on a rope two hundred feet long! But he will not come. He asks that we send an envoy to him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We're sending you, Lord Snow.\" Ser Alliser smiled.\n\n\"Me.\" Jon's voice was flat. \"Why me?\"\n\n\"You rode with these wildlings,\" said Thorne. \"Mance Rayder knows you. He will be more inclined to trust you.\"\n\nThat was so wrong Jon might have laughed. \"You've got it backward. Mance suspected me from the first. If I show up in his camp wearing a black cloak again and speaking for the Night's Watch, he'll know that I betrayed him.\"\n\n\"He asked for an envoy, we are sending one,\" said Slynt. \"If you are too craven to face this turncloak king, we can return you to your ice cell. This time without the furs, I think. Yes.\"\n\n\"No need for that, my lord,\" said Ser Alliser. \"Lord Snow will do as we ask. He wants to show us that he is no turncloak. He wants to prove himself a loyal man of the Night's Watch.\"\n\nThorne was much the more clever of the two, Jon realized; this had his stink allover it. He was trapped. \"I'll go,\" he said in a clipped, curt voice.\n\n\"M'lord,\" Janos Slynt reminded him. \"You'll address me-\"\n\n\"I'll go, my lord. But you are making a mistake, my lord. You are sending the wrong man, my lord. Just the sight of me is going to anger Mance. My lord would have a better chance of reaching terms if he sent-\"\n\n\"Terms?\" Ser Alliser chuckled.\n\n\"Janos Slynt does not make terms with lawless savages, Lord Snow. No, he does not.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We're not sending you to talk with Mance Rayder,\" Ser Alliser said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We're sending you to kill him.\"\n\nThe wind whistled through the bars, and Jon Snow shivered. His leg was throbbing, and his head. He was not fit to kill a kitten, yet here he was. The trap had teeth. With Maester Aemon insisting on Jon's innocence, Lord Janos had not dared to leave him in the ice to die. This was better. \"Our honor means no more than our lives, so long as the realm is safe,\" Qhorin Halfhand had said in the Frostfangs. He must remember that. Whether he slew Mance or only tried and failed, the free folk would kill him. Even desertion was impossible, if he'd been so inclined; to Mance he was a proven liar and betrayer.\n\nWhen the cage jerked to a halt, Jon swung down onto the ground and rattled Longclaw's hilt to loosen the bastard blade in its scabbard. The gate was a few yards to his left, still blocked by the splintered ruins of the turtle, the carcass of a mammoth ripening within. There were other corpses too, strewn amidst broken barrels, hardened pitch, and patches of burnt grass, all shadowed by the Wall. Jon had no wish to linger here. He started walking toward the wildling camp, past the body of a dead giant whose head had been crushed by a stone. A raven was pulling out bits of brain from the giant's shattered skull. It looked up as he walked by. \"Snow,\" it screamed at him. \"Snow, snow.\" Then it opened its wings and flew away.\n\nNo sooner had he started out than alone rider emerged from the wildling camp and came toward him. He wondered if Mance was coming out to parley in no-man's-land. That might make it easier, though nothing will make it easy. But as the distance between them diminished Jon saw that the horseman was short and broad, with gold rings glinting on thick arms and a white beard spreading out across his massive chest."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Har!\" Tormund boomed when they came together. \"Jon Snow the crow. I feared we'd seen the last o\" you.\"\n\n\"I never knew you feared anything, Tormund.\"\n\nThat made the wildling grin. \"Well said, lad. I see your cloak is black. Mance won't like that. If you've come to change sides again, best climb back on that Wall o' yours.\"\n\n\"They've sent me to treat with the King-beyond-the-Wall.\"\n\n\"Treat?\" Tormund laughed. \"Now there's a word. Har! Mance wants to talk, that's true enough. Can't say he'd want to talk with you, though.\"\n\n\"I'm the one they've sent.\"\n\n\"I see that. Best come along, then. You want to ride?\"\n\n\"I can walk.\"\n\n\"You fought us hard here.\" Tormund turned his garron back toward the wildling camp. \"You and your brothers. I give you that. Two hundred dead, and a dozen giants. Mag himself went in that gate o' yours and never did come out.\"\n\n\"He died on the sword of a brave man named Donal Noye.\"\n\n\"Aye? Some great lord was he, this Donal Noye? One of your shiny knights in their steel smallclothes?\"\n\n\"A blacksmith. He only had one arm.\"\n\n\"A one-armed smith slew Mag the Mighty? Har! That must o'been a fight to see. Mance will make a song of it, see if he don't.\" Tormund took a waterskin off his saddle and pulled the cork. \"This will warm us some. To Donal Noye, and Mag the Mighty.\" He took a swing, and handed it down to Jon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"To Donal Noye, and Mag the Mighty.\" The skin was full of mead, but a mead so potent that it made Jon's eyes water and sent tendrils of fire snaking through his chest. After the ice cell and the cold ride down in the cage, the warmth was welcome.\n\nTormund took the skin back and downed another swig, then wiped his mouth. \"The Magnar of Thenn swore t'us that he'd have the gate wide open, so all we'd need to do was stroll through singing. He was going to bring the whole Wall down.\"\n\n\"He brought down part,\" Jon said. \"On his head.\"\n\n\"Har!\" said Tormund. \"Well, I never had much use for Styr. When a man's got no beard nor hair nor ears, you can't get a good grip on him when you fight.\" He kept his horse at a slow walk so Jon could limp beside him. \"What happened to that leg?\"\n\n\"An arrow. One of Ygritte's, I think.\"\n\n\"That's a woman for you. One day she's kissing you, the next she's filling you with arrows.\"\n\n\"She's dead.\"\n\n\"Aye?\" Tormund gave a sad shake of the head. \"A waste. If I'd been ten years younger, I'd have stolen her meself. That hair she had. Well, the hottest fires burnout quickest.\" He lifted the skin of mead. \"To Ygritte, kissed by fire!\" He drank deep.\n\n\"To Ygritte, kissed by fire,\" Jon repeated when Tormund handed him back the skin. He drank even deeper.\n\n\"Was it you killed her?\"\n\n\"My brother.\" Jon had never learned which one, and hoped he never would."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You bloody crows.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tormund's tone was gruff, yet strangely gentle. \"That Longspear stole me daughter. Munda, me little autumn apple. Took her right out o\" my tent with all four o'her brothers about. Toregg slept through it, the great lout, and Torwynd... well, Torwynd the Tame, that says all that needs saying, don't it? The young ones gave the lad a fight, though.\"\n\n\"And Munda?\" asked Jon.\n\n\"She's my own blood,\" said Tormund proudly. \"She broke his lip for him and bit one ear half off, and I hear he's got so many scratches on his back he can't wear a cloak. She likes him well enough, though. And why not? He don't fight with no spear, you know. Never has. So where do you think he got that name? Har!\"\n\nJon had to laugh. Even now, even here. Ygritte had been fond of Longspear Ryk. He hoped he found some joy with Tormund's Munda. Someone needed to find some joy somewhere.\n\n\"You know nothing, Jon Snow,\" Ygritte would have told him. I know that I am going to die, he thought. I know that much, at least. \"All men die,\" he could almost hear her say, \"and women too, and every beast that flies or swims or runs. It's not the when o\" dying that matters, it's the how of it, Jon Snow.\" Easy for you to say, he thought back. You died brave in battle, storming the castle of a foe. I'm going to die a turncloak and a killer. Nor would his death be quick, unless it came on the end of Mance's sword."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Soon they were among the tents."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was the usual wildling camp; a sprawling jumble of cookfires and piss pits, children and goats wandering freely, sheep bleating among the trees, horse hides pegged up to dry. There was no plan to it, no order, no defenses. But there were men and women and animals everywhere.\n\nMany ignored him, but for everyone who went about his business there were ten who stopped to stare; children squatting by the fires, old women in dogcarts, cave dwellers with painted faces, raiders with claws and snakes and severed heads painted on their shields, all turned to have a look. Jon saw spearwives too, their longhair streaming in the piney wind that sighed between the trees.\n\nThere were no true hills here, but Mance Rayder's white fur tent had been raised on a spot of high stony ground right on the edge of the trees. The King-beyond-the-Wall was waiting outside, his ragged red-and-black cloak blowing in the wind. Harma Dogshead was with him, Jon saw, back from her raids and feints along the Wall, and Varamyr Sixskins as well, attended by his shadowcat and two lean grey wolves.\n\nWhen they saw who the Watch had sent, Harma turned her head and spat, and one of Varamyr's wolves bared its teeth and growled. \"You must be very brave or very stupid, Jon Snow,\" Mance Rayder said, \"to comeback to us wearing a black cloak.\"\n\n\"What else would a man of the Night's Watch wear?\"\n\n\"Kill him,\" urged Harma. \"Send his body backup in that cage o'theirs and tell them to send us someone else. I'll keep his head for my standard. A turncloak's worse than a dog.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I warned you he was false.\" Varamyr's tone was mild, but his shadow-cat was staring at Jon hungrily through slitted grey eyes. \"I never did like the smell o\" him.\"\n\n\"Pull in your claws, beastling.\" Tormund Giantsbane swung down off his horse. \"The lad's hereto hear. You lay a paw on him, might be I'll take me that shadowskin cloak I been wanting.\"\n\n\"Tormund Crowlover,\" Harma sneered. \"You area great sack o' wind, old man.\"\n\nThe skinchanger was grey-faced, round-shouldered, and bald, a mouse of a man with a wolfling's eyes. \"Once a horse is broken to the saddle, any man can mount him,\" he said in a soft voice. \"Once a beast's been joined to a man, any skinchanger can slip inside and ride him. Orell was withering inside his feathers, so I took the eagle for my own. But the joining works both ways, warg. Orell lives inside me now, whispering how much he hates you. And I can soar above the Wall, and see with eagle eyes.\"\n\n\"So we know,\" said Mance. \"We know how few you were, when you stopped the turtle. We know how many came from Eastwatch. We know how your supplies have dwindled. Pitch, oil, arrows, spears. Even your stair is gone, and that cage can only lift so many. We know. And now you know we know.\" He opened the flap of the tent. \"Come inside. The rest of you, wait here.\"\n\n\"What, even me?\" said Tormund.\n\n\"Particularly you. Always.\"\n\nIt was warm within. A small fire burned beneath the smoke holes, and a brazier smouldered near the pile of furs where Dalla lay, pale and sweating. Her sister was holding her hand. Val, Jon remembered. \"I was sorry when Jarl fell,\" he told her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Val looked at him with pale grey eyes. \"He always climbed too fast.\" She was as fair as he'd remembered, slender, full-breasted, graceful even at rest, with high sharp cheekbones and a thick braid of honey-colored hair that fell to her waist.\n\n\"Dalla's time is near,\" Mance explained. \"She and Val will stay. They know what I mean to say.\"\n\nJon kept his face as still as ice. Foul enough to slay a man in his own tent under truce. Must I murder him in front of his wife as their child is being born? He closed the fingers of his sword hand. Mance was not wearing armor, but his own sword was sheathed on his left hip. And there were other weapons in the tent, daggers and dirks, a bow and a quiver of arrows, a bronze-headed spear lying beside that big black...\n\n... horn.\n\nJon sucked in his breath.\n\nA warhorn, a bloody great warhorn.\n\n\"Yes,\" Mance said. \"The Horn of Winter, that Joramun once blew to wake giants from the earth.\"\n\nThe horn was huge, eight feet along the curve and so wide at the mouth that he could have put his arm inside up to the elbow. If this came from an aurochs, it was the biggest that ever lived. At first he thought the bands around it were bronze, but when he moved closer he realized they were gold. Old gold, more brown than yellow, and graven with runes.\n\n\"Ygritte said you never found the horn.\"\n\n\"Did you think only crows could lie? I liked you well enough, fora bastard... but I never trusted you. A man needs to earn my trust.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jon faced him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If you've had the Horn of Joramun all along, why haven't you used it? Why bother building turtles and sending Thenns to kill us in our beds? If this horn is all the songs say, why not just sound it and be done?\"\n\nIt was Dalla who answered him, Dalla great with child, lying on her pile of furs beside the brazier. \"We free folk know things you kneelers have forgotten. Sometimes the short road is not the safest, Jon Snow. The Horned Lord once said that sorcery is a sword without a hilt. There is no safe way to grasp it.\"\n\nMance ran a hand along the curve of the great horn. \"No mangoes hunting with only one arrow in his quiver,\" he said. \"I had hoped that Styr and Jarl would take your brothers unawares, and open the gate for us. I drew your garrison away with feints and raids and secondary attacks. Bowen Marsh swallowed that lure as I knew he would, but your band of cripples and orphans proved to be more stubborn than anticipated. Don't think you've stopped us, though. The truth is, you are too few and we are too many. I could continue the attack here and still send ten thousand men to cross the Bay of Seals on rafts and take Eastwatch from the rear. I could storm the Shadow Tower too, I know the approaches as well as any man alive. I could send men and mammoths to dig out the gates at the castles you've abandoned, all of them at once.\"\n\n\"Why don't you, then?\" Jon could have drawn Longclaw then, but he wanted to hear what the wildling had to say.\n\n\"Blood,\" said Mance Rayder. \"I'd win in the end, yes, but you'd bleed me, and my people have bled enough.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your losses haven't been that heavy.\"\n\n\"Not at your hands.\" Mance studied Jon's face. \"You saw the Fist of the First Men. You know what happened there. You know what we are facing.\"\n\n\"The Others...\"\n\n\"They grow stronger as the days grow shorter and the nights colder. First they kill you, then they send your dead against you. The giants have not been able to stand against them, nor the Thenns, the ice river clans, the Hornfoots.\"\n\n\"Nor you?\"\n\n\"Nor me.\" There was anger in that admission, and bitterness too deep for words. \"Raymun Redbeard, Bael the Bard, Gendel and Gorne, the Horned Lord, they all came south to conquer, but I've come with my tail between my legs to hide behind your Wall.\" He touched the horn again. \"If I sound the Horn of Winter, the Wall will fall. Or so the songs would have me believe. There are those among my people who want nothing more...\"\n\n\"But once the Wallis fallen,\" Dalla said, \"what will stop the Others?\"\n\nMance gave her a fond smile. \"It's a wise woman I've found. A true queen.\" He turned back to Jon. \"Go back and tell them to open their gate and let us pass. If they do, I will give them the horn, and the Wall will stand until the end of days.\"\n\nOpen the gate and let them pass. Easy to say, but what must follow? Giants camping in the ruins of Winterfell? Cannibals in the wolfswood, chariots sweeping across the barrowlands, free folk stealing the daughters of shipwrights and silversmiths from White Harbor and fishwives off the Stony Shore? \"Are you a true king?\" Jon asked suddenly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I've never had a crown on my head or sat my arse on a bloody throne, if that's what you're asking,\" Mance replied."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My birth is as low as a man's can get, no septon's ever smeared my head with oils, I don't own any castles, and my queen wears furs and amber, not silk and sapphires. I am my own champion, my own fool, and my own harpist. You don't become King-beyond-the-Wall because your father was. The free folk won't follow a name, and they don't care which brother was born first. They follow fighters. When I left the Shadow Tower there were five men making noises about how they might be the stuff of kings. Tormund was one, the Magnar another. The other three I slew, when they made it plain they'd sooner fight than follow.\"\n\n\"You can kill your enemies,\" Jon said bluntly, \"but can you rule your friends? If we let your people pass, are you strong enough to make them keep the king's peace and obey the laws?\"\n\n\"Whose laws? The laws of Winterfell and King's Landing?\" Mance laughed. \"When we want laws we'll make our own. You can keep your king's justice too, and your king's taxes. I'm offering you the horn, not our freedom. We will not kneel to you.\"\n\n\"What if we refuse the offer?\" Jon had no doubt that they would. The Old Bear might at least have listened, though he would have balked at the notion of letting thirty or forty thousand wildlings loose on the Seven Kingdoms. But Alliser Thorne and Janos Slynt would dismiss the notion out of hand.\n\n\"If you refuse,\" Mance Rayder said, \"Tormund Giantsbane will sound the Horn of Winter three days hence, at dawn.\"\n\nHe could carry the message back to Castle Black and tell them of the horn, but if he left Mance still alive Lord Janos and Ser Alliser would seize on that as proof that he was a turncloak. A thousand thoughts flickered through Jon's head. If I can destroy the horn, smash it here and now... but before he could begin to think that through, he heard the low moan of some other horn, made faint by the tent's hide walls. Mance heard it too. Frowning, he went to the door. Jon followed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The warhorn was louder outside. Its call had stirred the wildling camp. Three Hornfoot men jogged past, carrying long spears. Horses were whinnying and snorting, giants roaring in the Old Tongue, and even the mammoths were restless.\n\n\"Outrider's horn,\" Tormund told Mance.\n\n\"Something's coming.\" Varamyr sat crosslegged on the half-frozen ground, his wolves circled restlessly around him. A shadow swept over him, and Jon looked up to seethe eagle's blue-grey wings. \"Coming, from the east.\"\n\nWhen the dead walk, walls and stakes and swords mean nothing, he remembered. You cannot fight the dead, Jon Snow. No man knows that half so well as me.\n\nHarma scowled. \"East? The wights should be behind us.\"\n\n\"East,\" the skinchanger repeated. \"Something's coming.\"\n\n\"The Others?\" Jon asked.\n\nMance shook his head. \"The Others never come when the sun is up.\" Chariots were rattling across the killing ground, jammed with riders waving spears of sharpened bone. The king groaned. \"Where the bloody hell do they think they're going? Quenn, get those fools back where they belong. Someone bring my horse. The mare, not the stallion. I'll want my armor too.\" Mance glanced suspiciously at the Wall. Atop the icy parapets, the straw soldiers stood collecting arrows, but there was no sign of any other activity. \"Harma, mount up your raiders. Tormund, find your sons and give me a triple line of spears.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Tormund, striding off."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The mousy little skinchanger closed his eyes and said, \"I see them."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They're coming along the streams and game trails...\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Men. Men on horses. Men in steel and men in black.\"\n\n\"Crows.\" Mance made the word a curse. He turned on Jon. \"Did my old brothers think they'd catch me with my breeches down if they attacked while we were talking?\"\n\n\"If they planned an attack they never told me about it.\" Jon did not believe it. Lord Janos lacked the men to attack the wildling camp. Besides, he was on the wrong side of the Wall, and the gate was sealed with rubble. He had a different sort of treachery in mind, this can't be his work.\n\n\"If you're lying tome again, you won't be leaving here alive,\" Mance warned. His guards brought him his horse and armor. Elsewhere around the camp, Jon saw people running at cross purposes, some men forming up as if to storm the Wall while others slipped into the woods, women driving dogcarts east, mammoths wandering west. He reached back over his shoulder and drew Longclaw just as a thin line of rangers emerged from the fringes of the wood three hundred yards away. They wore blackmail, black halfhelms, and black cloaks. Half-armored, Mance drew his sword. \"You knew nothing of this, did you?\" he said to Jon, coldly.\n\nSlow as honey on a cold morning, the rangers swept down on the wildling camp, picking their way through clumps of gorse and stands of trees, over roots and rocks. Wildlings flew to meet them, shouting war cries and waving clubs and bronze swords and axes made of flint, galloping headlong at their ancient enemies. A shout, a slash, and a fine brave death, Jon had heard brothers say of the free folk's way of fighting."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Believe what you will,\" Jon told the King-beyond-the-Wall, \"but I knew nothing of any attack.\"\n\nHarma thundered past before Mance could reply, riding at the head of thirty raiders. Her standard went before her; a dead dog impaled on a spear, raining blood at every stride. Mance watched as she smashed into the rangers. \"Might be you're telling it true,\" he said. \"Those look like Eastwatch men. Sailors on horses. Cotter Pyke always had more guts than sense. He took the Lord of Bones at Long Barrow, he might have thought to do the same with me. If so, he's a fool. He doesn't have the men, he-\"\n\n\"Mance!\" the shout came. It was a scout, bursting from the trees on a lathered horse. \"Mance, there's more, they're all around us, iron men, iron, a host of iron men.\"\n\nCursing, Mance swung up into the saddle. \"Varamyr, stay and see that no harm comes to Dalla.\" The King-beyond-the-Wall pointed his sword at Jon. \"And keep a few extra eyes on this crow. If he runs, rip out his throat.\"\n\n\"Aye, I'll do that.\" The skinchanger was ahead shorter than Jon, slumped and soft, but that shadowcat could disembowel him with one paw. \"They're coming from the north too,\" Varamyr told Mance. \"You best go.\"\n\nMance donned his helm with its raven wings. His men were mounted up as well. \"Arrowhead,\" Mance snapped, \"tome, form wedge.\" Yet when he slammed his heels into the mare and flew across the field at the rangers, the men who raced to catch him lost all semblance of formation."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon took a step toward the tent, thinking of the Horn of Winter, but the shadowcat blocked him, tail lashing. The beast's nostrils flared, and slaver ran from his curved front teeth. He smells my fear. He missed Ghost more than ever then. The two wolves were behind him, growling.\n\n\"Banners,\" he heard Varamyr murmur, \"I see golden banners, oh...\" A mammoth lumbered by, trumpeting, a half-dozen bowmen in the wooden tower on its back. \"The king... no...\"\n\nThen the skinchanger threw back his head and screamed.\n\nThe sound was shocking, ear-piercing, thick with agony. Varamyr fell, writhing, and the 'cat was screaming too... and high, high in the eastern sky, against the wall of cloud, Jon saw the eagle burning. Fora heartbeat it flamed brighter than a star, wreathed in red and gold and orange, its wings beating wildly at the air as if it could fly from the pain. Higher it flew, and higher, and higher still.\n\nThe scream brought Val out of the tent, white-faced. \"What is it, what's happened?\" Varamyr's wolves were fighting each other, and the shadowcat had raced off into the trees, but the man was still twisting on the ground. \"What's wrong with him?\" Val demanded, horrified. \"Where's Mance?\"\n\n\"There.\" Jon pointed. \"Gone to fight.\" The king led his ragged wedge into a knot of rangers, his sword flashing.\n\n\"Gone? He can't begone, not now. It's started.\"\n\n\"The battle?\" He watched the rangers scatter before Harma's bloody dog's head. The raiders screamed and hacked and chased the men in black back into the trees. But there were more men coming from the wood, a column of horse. Knights on heavy horse, Jon saw. Harma had to regroup and wheel to meet them, but half of her men had raced too far ahead."
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"value": "\"The birth!\" Val was shouting at him.\n\nTrumpets were blowing all around, loud and brazen. The wildlings have no trumpets, only warhorns. They knew that as well as he did; the sound sent free folk running in confusion, some toward the fighting, others away. A mammoth was stomping through a flock of sheep that three men were trying to herd off west. The drums were beating as the wildlings ran to form squares and lines, but they were too late, too disorganized, too slow. The enemy was emerging from the forest, from the east, the northeast, the north; three great columns of heavy horse, all dark glinting steel and bright wool surcoats. Not the men of Eastwatch, those had been no more than a line of scouts. An army. The king? Jon was as confused as the wildlings. Could Robb have returned? Had the boy on the Iron Throne finally bestirred himself? \"You best get back inside the tent,\" he told Val.\n\nAcross the field one column had washed over Harma Dogshead. Another smashed into the flank of Tormund's spearmen as he and his sons desperately tried to turn them. The giants were climbing onto their mammoths, though, and the knights on their barded horses did not like that at all; he could see how the coursers and destriers screamed and scattered at the sight of those lumbering mountains. But there was fear on the wildling side as well, hundreds of women and children rushing away from the battle, some of them blundering right under the hooves of garrons. He saw an old woman's dogcart veer into the path of three chariots, to send them crashing into each other.\n\n\"Gods,\" Val whispered, \"gods, why are they doing this?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Go inside the tent and stay with Dalla. It's not safe out here.\" It wouldn't be a great deal safer inside, but she didn't need to hear that.\n\n\"I need to find the midwife,\" Val said.\n\n\"You're the midwife. I'll stay here until Mance comes back.\" He had lost sight of Mance but now he found him again, cutting his way through a knot of mounted men. The mammoths had shattered the center column, but the other two were closing like pincers. On the eastern edge of the camps, some archers were loosing fire arrows at the tents. He saw a mammoth pluck a knight from his saddle and fling him forty feet with a flick of its trunk. Wildlings streamed past, women and children running from the battle, some with men hurrying them along. A few of them gave Jon dark looks but Longclaw was in his hand, and no one troubled him. Even Varamyr fled, crawling off on his hands and knees.\n\nMore and more men were pouring from the trees, not only knights now but freeriders and mounted bowmen and men-at-arms in jacks and kettle helms, dozens of men, hundreds of men. Ablaze of banners flew above them. The wind was whipping them too wildly for Jon to seethe sigils, but he glimpsed a seahorse, afield of birds, a ring of flowers. And yellow, so much yellow, yellow banners with a red device, whose arms were those?\n\nEast and north and northeast, he saw bands of wildlings trying to stand and fight, but the attackers rode right over them. The free folk still had the numbers, but the attackers had steel armor and heavy horses. In the thickest part of the fray, Jon saw Mance standing tall in his stirrups. His red-and-black cloak and raven-winged helm made him easy to pick out. He had his sword raised and men were rallying to him when a wedge of knights smashed into them with lance and sword and longaxe. Mance's mare went upon her hind legs, kicking, and a spear took her through the breast. Then the steel tide washed over him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It's done, Jon thought, they're breaking."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wildlings were running, throwing down their weapons, Hornfoot men and cave dwellers and Thenns in bronze scales, they were running. Mance was gone, someone was waving Harma's head on a pole, Tormund's lines had broken. Only the giants on their mammoths were holding, hairy islands in a red steel sea. The fires were leaping from tent to tent and some of the tall pines were going up as well. And through the smoke another wedge of armored riders came, on barded horses. Floating above them were the largest banners yet, royal standards as big as sheets; a yellow one with long pointed tongues that showed a flaming heart, and another like a sheet of beaten gold, with a black stag prancing and rippling in the wind.\n\nRobert, Jon thought for one mad moment, remembering poor Owen, but when the trumpets blew again and the knights charged, the name they cried was'Stannis! Stannis! STANNIS!\"\n\nJon turned away, and went inside the tent."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 76"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It's done, Jon thought, they're breaking."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wildlings were running, throwing down their weapons, Hornfoot men and cave dwellers and Thenns in bronze scales, they were running. Mance was gone, someone was waving Harma's head on a pole, Tormund's lines had broken. Only the giants on their mammoths were holding, hairy islands in a red steel sea. The fires were leaping from tent to tent and some of the tall pines were going up as well. And through the smoke another wedge of armored riders came, on barded horses. Floating above them were the largest banners yet, royal standards as big as sheets; a yellow one with long pointed tongues that showed a flaming heart, and another like a sheet of beaten gold, with a black stag prancing and rippling in the wind.\n\nRobert, Jon thought for one mad moment, remembering poor Owen, but when the trumpets blew again and the knights charged, the name they cried was'Stannis! Stannis! STANNIS!\"\n\nJon turned away, and went inside the tent."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "ARYA\n\nOutside the inn on a weathered gibbet, a woman's bones were twisting and rattling at every gust of wind.\n\nI know this inn. There hadn't been a gibbet outside the door when she had slept herewith her sister Sansa under the watchful eye of Septa Mordane, though. \"We don't want to go in,\" Arya decided suddenly, \"there might be ghosts.\"\n\n\"You know how long it's been since I had a cup of wine?\" Sandor swung down from the saddle. \"Besides, we need to learn who holds the ruby ford. Stay with the horses if you want, it's no hair off my arse.\"\n\n\"What if they know you?\" Sandor no longer troubled to hide his face. He no longer seemed to care who knew him. \"They might want to take you captive.\"\n\n\"Let them try.\" He loosened his longsword in its scabbard, and pushed through the door.\n\nArya would never have a better chance to escape. She could ride off on Craven and take Stranger too. She chewed her lip. Then she led the horses to the stables, and went in after him.\n\nThey know him. The silence told her that. But that wasn't the worst thing. She knew them too. Not the skinny innkeep, nor the women, nor the fieldhands by the hearth. But the others. The soldiers. She knew the soldiers.\n\n\"Looking for your brother, Sandor?\" Polliver's hand was down the bodice of the girl on his lap, but now he slid it out.\n\n\"Looking fora cup of wine. Innkeep, a flagon of red.\" Clegane threw a handful of coppers on the floor."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't want no trouble, ser,\" the innkeep said.\n\n\"Then don't call me ser.\" His mouth twitched. \"Are you deaf, fool? I ordered wine.\" As the man ran off, Clegane shouted after him, \"Two cups! The girl's thirsty too!\"\n\nThere are only three, Arya thought. Polliver gave her a fleeting glance and the boy beside him never looked at her at all, but the third one gazed long and hard. He was a man of middling height and build, with a face so ordinary that it was hard to say how old he was. The Tickler. The Tickler and Polliver both. The boy was a squire, judging by his age and dress. He had a big white pimple on one side of his nose, and some red ones on his forehead. \"Is this the lost puppy Ser Gregor spoke of?\" he asked the Tickler. \"The one who piddled in the rushes and ran off?\"\n\nThe Tickler put a warning hand on the boy's arm, and gave a short sharp shake of his head. Arya read that plain enough.\n\nThe squire didn't, or else he didn't care. \"Ser said his puppy brother tucked his tail between his legs when the battle got too warm at King's Landing. He said he ran off whimpering.\" He gave the Hound a stupid mocking grin.\n\nClegane studied the boy and never said a word. Polliver shoved the girl off his lap and got to his feet. \"The lad's drunk,\" he said. The man-at-arms was almost as tall as the Hound, though not so heavily muscled. A spade-shaped beard covered his jaws and jowls, thick and black and neatly trimmed, but his head was more bald than not. \"He can't hold his wine, is all.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then he shouldn't drink.\"\n\n\"The puppy doesn't scare...\" the boy began, till the Tickler casually twisted his ear between thumb and forefinger. The words became a squeal of pain.\n\nThe innkeep came scurrying back with two stone cups and a flagon on a pewter platter. Sandor lifted the flagon to his mouth. Arya could seethe muscles in his neck working as he gulped. When he slammed it back down on the table, half the wine was gone. \"Now you can pour. Best pickup those coppers too, it's the only coin you're like to see today.\"\n\n\"We'll pay when we're done drinking,\" said Polliver.\n\n\"When you're done drinking you'll tickle the innkeep to see where he keeps his gold. The way you always do.\"\n\nThe innkeep suddenly remembered something in the kitchen. The locals were leaving too, and the girls were gone. The only sound in the common room was the faint crackling of the fire in the hearth. We should go too, Arya knew.\n\n\"If you're looking for Ser, you come too late,\" Polliver said. \"He was at Harrenhal, but now he's not. The queen sent for him.\" He wore three blades on his belt, Arya saw; a longsword on his left hip, and on his right a dagger and a slimmer blade, too long to be a dirk and too short to be a sword. \"King Joffrey's dead, you know,\" he added. \"Poisoned at his own wedding feast.\"\n\nArya edged farther into the room. Joffrey's dead. She could almost see him, with his blond curls and his mean smile and his fat soft lips. Joffrey's dead! She knew it ought to make her happy, but somehow she still felt empty inside. Joffrey was dead, but if Robb was dead too, what did it matter?"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So much for my brave brothers of the Kingsguard.\" The Hound gave a snort of contempt. \"Who killed him?\"\n\n\"The Imp, it's thought. Him and his little wife.\"\n\n\"What wife?\"\n\n\"I forgot, you've been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head.\"\n\nThat's stupid, Arya thought. Sansa only knows songs, not spells, and she'd never marry the Imp.\n\nThe Hound sat on the bench closest to the door. His mouth twitched, but only the burned side. \"She ought to dip him in wildfire and cook him. Or tickle him till the moon turns black.\" He raised his wine cup and drained it straightaway.\n\nHe's one of them, Arya thought when she saw that. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. He's just like they are. I should kill him when he sleeps.\n\n\"So Gregor took Harrenhal?\" Sandor said.\n\n\"Didn't require much taking,\" said Polliver. \"The sellswords fled as soon as they knew we were coming, all but a few. One of the cooks opened a postern gate for us, to get back at Hoat for cutting off his foot.\" He chuckled. \"We kept him to cook for us, a couple wenches to warm our beds, and put all the rest to the sword.\"\n\n\"All the rest?\" Arya blurted out.\n\n\"Well, Ser kept Hoat to pass the time.\""
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"value": "Sandor said, \"The Blackfish is still in Riverrun?\"\n\n\"Not for long,\" said Polliver. \"He's under siege. Old Frey's going to hang Edmure Tully unless he yields the castle. The only real fighting's around Raventree. Blackwoods and Brackens. The Brackens are ours now.\"\n\nThe Hound poured a cup of wine for Arya and another for himself, and drank it down while staring at the hearthfire. \"The little bird flew away, did she? Well, bloody good for her. She shit on the Imp's head and flew off.\"\n\n\"They'll find her,\" said Polliver. \"If it takes half the gold in Casterly Rock.\"\n\n\"A pretty girl, I hear,\" said the Tickler. \"Honey sweet.\" He smacked his lips and smiled.\n\n\"And courteous,\" the Hound agreed. \"A proper little lady. Not like her bloody sister.\"\n\n\"They found her too,\" said Polliver. \"The sister. She's for Bolton's bastard, I hear.\"\n\nArya sipped her wine so they could not see her mouth. She didn't understand what Polliver was talking about. Sansa has no other sister. Sandor Clegane laughed aloud.\n\n\"What's so bloody funny?\" asked Polliver.\n\nThe Hound never flicked an eye at Arya. \"If I'd wanted you to know, I'd have told you. Are there ships at Saltpans?\"\n\n\"Saltpans? How should I know? The traders are back at Maidenpool, I heard. Randyll Tarly took the castle and locked Mooton in a tower cell. I haven't heard shit about Saltpans.\""
},
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Tickler leaned forward. \"Would you put to sea without bidding farewell to your brother?\" It gave Arya chills to hear him ask a question. \"Ser would sooner you returned to Harrenhal with us, Sandor. I bet he would. Or King's Landing...\"\n\n\"Bugger that. Bugger him. Bugger you.\"\n\nThe Tickler shrugged, straightened, and reached a hand behind his head to rub the back of his neck. Everything seemed to happen at once then; Sandor lurched to his feet, Polliver drew his longsword, and the Tickler's hand whipped around in a blur to send something silver flashing across the common room. If the Hound had not been moving, the knife might have cored the apple of his throat; instead it only grazed his ribs, and wound up quivering in the wall near the door. He laughed then, a laugh as cold and hollow as if it had come from the bottom of a deep well. \"I was hoping you'd do something stupid.\" His sword slid from its scabbard just in time to knock aside Polliver's first cut.\n\nArya took a step backward as the long steel song began. The Tickler came off the bench with a shortsword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Even the chunky brown-haired squire was up, fumbling for his swordhilt. She snatched her wine cup off the table and threw it at his face. Her aim was better than it had been at the Twins. The cup hit him right on his big white pimple and he went down hard on his tail.\n\nPolliver was a grim, methodical fighter, and he pressed Sandor steadily backward, his heavy longsword moving with brutal precision. The Hound's own cuts were sloppier, his parries rushed, his feet slow and clumsy. He's drunk, Arya realized with dismay. He drank too much too fast, with no food in his belly. And the Tickler was sliding around the wall to get behind him. She grabbed the second wine cup and flung it at him, but he was quicker than the squire had been and ducked his head in time. The look he gave her then was cold with promise. Is there gold hidden in the village? she could hear him ask. The stupid squire was clutching the edge of a table and pulling himself to his knees. Arya could taste the beginnings of panic in the back of her throat. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fears cuts deeper..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sandor gave a grunt of pain. The burned side of his face ran red from temple to cheek, and the stub of his ear was gone. That seemed to make him angry. He drove back Polliver with a furious attack, hammering at him with the old nicked longsword he had swapped for in the hills. The bearded man gave way, but none of the cuts so much as touched him. And then the Tickler leapt over a bench quick as a snake, and slashed at the back of the Hound's neck with the edge of his short sword.\n\nThey're killing him. Arya had no more cups, but there was something better to throw. She drew the dagger they'd robbed off the dying archer and tried to fling it at the Tickler the way he'd done. It wasn't the same as throwing a rock or a crabapple, though. The knife wobbled, and hit him in the arm hilt first. He never even felt it. He was too intent on Clegane.\n\nAshe stabbed, Clegane twisted violently aside, winning himself half a heartbeat's respite. Blood ran down his face and from the gash in his neck. Both of the Mountain's men came after him hard, Polliver hacking at his head and shoulders while the Tickler darted into stab at back and belly. The heavy stone flagon was still on the table. Arya grabbed it with two hands, but as she lifted it someone grabbed her arm. The flagon slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor. Wrenched around, she found herself nose to nose with the squire. You stupid, you forgot all about him. His big white pimple had burst, she saw.\n\n\"Are you the puppy's puppy?\" He had his sword in his right hand and her arm in his left, but her own hands were free, so she jerked his knife from its sheath and sheathed it again in his belly, twisting. He wasn't wearing mail or even boiled leather, so it went right in, the same way Needle had when she killed the stableboy at King's Landing. The squire's eyes got big and he let goof her arm. Arya spun to the door and wrenched the Tickler's knife from the wall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Polliver and the Tickler had driven the Hound into a corner behind a bench, and one of them had given him an ugly red gash on his upper thigh to go with his other wounds. Sandor was leaning against the wall, bleeding and breathing noisily. He looked as though he could barely stand, let alone fight. \"Throw down the sword, and we'll take you back to Harrenhal,\" Polliver told him.\n\n\"So Gregor can finish me himself?\"\n\nThe Tickler said, \"Maybe he'll give you tome.\"\n\n\"If you want me, come get me.\" Sandor pushed away from the wall and stood in a half-crouch behind the bench, his sword held across his body.\n\n\"You think we won't?\" said Polliver. \"You're drunk.\"\n\n\"Might be,\" said the Hound, \"but you're dead.\" His foot lashed out and caught the bench, driving it hard into Polliver's shins. Somehow the bearded man kept his feet, but the Hound ducked under his wild slash and brought his own sword up in a vicious backhand cut. Blood spattered on the ceiling and walls. The blade caught in the middle of Polliver's face, and when the Hound wrenched it loose half his head came with it.\n\nThe Tickler backed away. Arya could smell his fear. The shortsword in his hand suddenly seemed almost a toy against the long blade the Hound was holding, and he wasn't armored either. He moved swiftly, light on his feet, never taking his eyes off Sandor Clegane. It was the easiest thing in the world for Arya to step up behind him and stab him.\n\n\"Is there gold hidden in the village?\" she shouted as she drove the blade up through his back. \"Is there silver? Gems?\" She stabbed twice more. \"Is there food? Where is Lord Beric?\" She was on top of him by then, still stabbing. \"Where did he go? How many men were with him? How many knights? How many bowmen? How many, how many, how many, how many, how many, how many? Is there gold in the village?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her hands were red and sticky when Sandor dragged her off him. \"Enough,\" was all he said. He was bleeding like a butchered pig himself, and dragging one leg when he walked.\n\n\"There's one more,\" Arya reminded him.\n\nThe squire had pulled the knife out of his belly and was trying to stop the blood with his hands. When the Hound yanked him upright, he screamed and started to blubber like a baby. \"Mercy,\" he wept, \"please. Don't kill me. Mother have mercy.\"\n\n\"Do I look like your bloody mother?\" The Hound looked like nothing human. \"You killed this one too,\" he told Arya. \"Pricked him in his bowels, that's the end of him. He'll be along time dying, though.\"\n\nThe boy didn't seemed to hear him. \"I came for the girls,\" he whimpered. \"... make me a man, Polly said... oh, gods, please, take me to a castle... a maester, take me to a maester, my father's got gold... it was only for the girls... mercy, ser.\"\n\nThe Hound gave him a crack across the face that made him scream again. \"Don't call me ser.\" He turned back to Arya. \"This one is yours, she-wolf. You do it.\"\n\nShe knew what he meant. Arya went to Polliver and knelt in his blood long enough to undo his swordbelt. Hanging beside his dagger was a slimmer blade, too long to be a dirk, too short to be a man's sword... but it felt just right in her hand.\n\n\"You remember where the heart is?\" the Hound asked.\n\nShe nodded. The squire rolled his eyes. \"Mercy.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Needle slipped between his ribs and gave it to him.\n\n\"Good.\" Sandor's voice was thick with pain. \"If these three were whoring here, Gregor must hold the ford as well as Harrenhal. More of his pets could ride up any moment, and we've killed enough of the bloody buggers for one day.\"\n\n\"Where will we go?\" she asked.\n\n\"Saltpans.\" He put a big hand on her shoulder to keep from falling. \"Get some wine, she-wolf. And take whatever coin they have as well, we'll need it. If there's ships at Saltpans, we can reach the Vale by sea.\" His mouth twitched at her, as more blood ran down from where his ear had been. \"Maybe Lady Lysa will marry you to her little Robert. There's a match I'd like to see.\" He started to laugh, then groaned instead.\n\nWhen the time came to leave, he needed Arya's help to get backup on Stranger. He had tied a strip of cloth about his neck and another around his thigh, and taken the squire's cloak off its peg by the door. The cloak was green, with a green arrow on a white bend, but when the Hound wadded it up and pressed it to his ear it soon turned red. Arya was afraid he would collapse the moment they set out, but somehow he stayed in the saddle.\n\nThey could not risk meeting whoever held the ruby ford, so instead of following the kingsroad they angled south by east, through weedy fields, woods, and marshes. It was hours before they reached the banks of the Trident. The river had returned meekly to its accustomed channel, Arya saw, all its wet brown rage vanished with the rains. It's tired too, she thought."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Close by the water's edge, they found some willows rising from a jumble of weathered rocks."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Together the rocks and trees formed a sort of natural fort where they could hide from both river and trail. \"Here will do,\" the Hound said. \"Water the horses and gather some deadwood fora fire.\" When he dismounted, he had to catch himself on a tree limb to keep from falling.\n\n\"Won't the smoke be seen?\"\n\n\"Anyone wants to find us, all they need to do is follow my blood. Water and wood. But bring me that wineskin first.\"\n\nWhen he got the fire going, Sandor propped up his helm in the flames, emptied half the wineskin into it, and collapsed back against a jut of moss-covered stone as if he never meant to rise again. He made Arya washout the squire's cloak and cut it into strips. Those went into his helm as well. \"If I had more wine, I'd drink till I was dead to the world. Maybe I ought to send you back to that bloody inn for another skin or three.\"\n\n\"No,\" Arya said. He wouldn't, would he? If he does, I'll just leave him and ride off.\n\nSandor laughed at the fear on her face. \"A jest, wolf girl. A bloody jest. Find me a stick, about so long and not too big around. And wash the mud off it. I hate the taste of mud.\"\n\nHe didn't like the first two sticks she brought him. By the time she found one that suited him, the flames had scorched his dog's snout black all the way to the eyes. Inside the wine was boiling madly. \"Get the cup from my bedroll and dip it half full,\" he told her. \"Be careful. You knock the damn thing over, I will send you back for more. Take the wine and pour it on my wounds. Think you can do that?\" Arya nodded. \"Then what are you waiting for?\" he growled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her knuckles brushed the steel the first time she filled the cup, burning her so badly she got blisters. Arya had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. The Hound used the stick for the same purpose, clamping it between his teeth as she poured. She did the gash in his thigh first, then the shallower cut on the back of his neck. Sandor coiled his right hand into a fist and beat against the ground when she did his leg. When it came to his neck, he bit the stick so hard it broke, and she had to find him anew one. She could seethe terror in his eyes. \"Turn your head.\" She trickled the wine down over the raw red flesh where his ear had been, and fingers of brown blood and red wine crept over his jaw. He did scream then, despite the stick. Then he passed out from the pain.\n\nArya figured the rest out by herself. She fished the strips they'd made of the squire's cloak out of the bottom of the helm and used them to bind the cuts. When she came to his ear, she had to wrap up half his head to stop the bleeding. By then dusk was settling over the Trident. She let the horses graze, then hobbled them for the night and made herself as comfortable as she could in a niche between two rocks. The fire burned awhile and died. Arya watched the moon through the branches overhead.\n\n\"Ser Gregor the Mountain,\" she said softly. \"Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei.\" It made her feel queer to leave out Polliver and the Tickler. And Joffrey too. She was glad he was dead, but she wished she could have been thereto see him die, or maybe kill him herself. Polliver said that Sansa killed him, and the Imp. Could that be true? The Imp was a Lannister, and Sansa... I wish I could change into a wolf and grow wings and flyaway."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "If Sansa was gone too, there were no more Starks but her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jon was on the Wall a thousand leagues away, but he was a Snow, and these different aunts and uncles the Hound wanted to sell her to, they weren't Starks either. They weren't wolves.\n\nSandor moaned, and she rolled onto her side to look at him. She had left his name out too, she realized. Why had she done that? She tried to think of Mycah, but it was hard to remember what he'd looked like. She hadn't known him long. All he ever did was play at swords with me. \"The Hound,\" she whispered, and, \"Valar morghulis.\" Maybe he'd be dead by morning...\n\nBut when the pale dawn light came filtering through the trees, it was him who woke her with the toe of his boot. She had dreamed she was a wolf again, chasing a riderless horse up a hill with a pack behind her, but his foot brought her back just as they were closing for the kill.\n\nThe Hound was still weak, every movement slow and clumsy. He slumped in the saddle, and sweated, and his ear began to bleed through the bandage. He needed all his strength just to keep from falling off Stranger. Had the Mountain's men come hunting them, she doubted if he would even be able to lift a sword. Arya glanced over her shoulder, but there was nothing behind them but a crow flitting from tree to tree. The only sound was the river.\n\nLong before noon, Sandor Clegane was reeling. There were hours of daylight still remaining when he called a halt. \"I need to rest,\" was all he said. This time when he dismounted he did fall. Instead of trying to get backup he crawled weakly under a tree, and leaned up against the trunk. \"Bloody hell,\" he cursed. \"Bloody hell.\" When he saw Arya staring at him, he said, \"I'd skin you alive fora cup of wine, girl.\""
},
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "She brought him water instead. He drank a little of it, complained that it tasted of mud, and slid into a noisy fevered sleep. When she touched him, his skin was burning up. Arya sniffed at his bandages the way Maester Luwin had done sometimes when treating her cut or scrape. His face had bled the worst, but it was the wound on his thigh that smelled funny to her.\n\nShe wondered how far this Saltpans was, and whether she could find it by herself. I wouldn't have to kill him. If I just rode off and left him, he'd die all by himself. He'll die of fever, and lie there beneath that tree until the end of days. But maybe it would be better if she killed him herself. She had killed the squire at the inn and he hadn't done anything except grab her arm. The Hound had killed Mycah. Mycah and more. I bet he's killed a hundred Mycahs. He probably would have killed her too, if not for the ransom.\n\nNeedle glinted as she drew it. Polliver had kept it nice and sharp, at least. She turned her body sideways in a water dancer's stance without even thinking about it. Dead leaves crunched beneath her feet. Quick as a snake, she thought. Smooth as summer silk.\n\nHis eyes opened. \"You remember where the heart is?\" he asked in a hoarse whisper.\n\nAs still as stone she stood. \"I... I was only...\"\n\n\"Don't lie,\" he growled. \"I hate liars. I hate gutless frauds even worse. Goon, do it.\" When Arya did not move, he said, \"I killed your butcher's boy. I cut him near in half, and laughed about it after.\" He made a queer sound, and it took her a moment to realize he was sobbing. \"And the little bird, your pretty sister, I stood therein my white cloak and let them beat her. I took the bloody song, she never gave it. I meant to take her too. I should have. I should have fucked her bloody and ripped her heart out before leaving her for that dwarf.\" A spasm of pain twisted his face. \"Do you mean to make me beg, bitch? Do it! The gift of mercy... avenge your little Michael...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Mycah.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arya stepped away from him. \"You don't deserve the gift of mercy.\"\n\nThe Hound watched her saddle Craven through eyes bright with fever. Not once did he attempt to rise and stop her. But when she mounted, he said, \"Areal wolf would finish a wounded animal.\"\n\nMaybe some real wolves will find you, Arya thought. Maybe they'll smell you when the sun goes down. Then he would learn what wolves did to dogs. \"You shouldn't have hit me with an axe,\" she said. \"You should have saved my mother.\" She turned her horse and rode away from him, and never looked back once.\n\nOn a bright morning six days later, she came to a place where the Trident began to widen out and the air smelled more of salt than trees. She stayed close to the water, passing fields and farms, and a little after midday a town appeared before her. Saltpans, she hoped. A small castle dominated the town; no more than a holdfast, really, a single tall square keep with a bailey and a curtain wall. Most of the shops and inns and alehouses around the harbor had been plundered or burned, though some looked still inhabited. But the port was there, and eastward spread the Bay of Crabs, its waters shimmering blue and green in the sun.\n\nAnd there were ships.\n\nThree, thought Arya, there are three. Two were only river galleys, shallow draft boats made to ply the waters of the Trident. The third was bigger, a salt sea trader with two banks of oars, a gilded prow, and three tall masts with furled purple sails. Her hull was painted purple too. Arya rode Craven down to the docks to get a better look. Strangers are not so strange in a port as they are in little villages, and no one seemed to care who she was or why she was here."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I need silver. The realization made her bite her lip. They had found a stag and a dozen coppers on Polliver, eight silvers on the pimply squire she'd killed, and only a couple of pennies in the Tickler's purse. But the Hound had told her to pull off his boots and slice open his blood-drenched clothes, and she'd turned up a stag in each toe, and three golden dragons sewn in the lining of his jerkin. Sandor had kept it all, though. That wasn't fair. It was mine as much as his. If she had given him the gift of mercy... she hadn't, though. She couldn't go back, no more than she could beg for help. Begging for help never gets you any. She would have to sell Craven, and hope she brought enough.\n\nThe stable had been burnt, she learned from a boy by the docks, but the woman who'd owned it was still trading behind the sept. Arya found her easily; a big, robust woman with a good horsey smell to her. She liked Craven at first look, asked Arya how she'd come by her, and grinned at her answer. \"She's a well-bred horse, that's plain enough, and I don't doubt she belonged to a knight, sweetling,\" she said. \"But the knight wasn't no dead brother o'yours. I been dealing with the castle there many a year, so I know what gentleborn folk is like. This mare is well-bred, but you're not.\" She poked a finger at Arya's chest. \"Found her or stole her, never mind which, that's how it was. Only way a scruffy little thing like you comes to ride a palfrey.\"\n\nArya bit her lip. \"Does that mean you won't buy her?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The woman chuckled."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It means you'll take what I give you, sweetling. Else we go down to the castle, and maybe you get nothing. Or even hanged, for stealing some good knight's horse.\"\n\nA half-dozen other Saltpans folks were around, going about their business, so Arya knew she couldn't kill the woman. Instead she had to bite her lip and let herself be cheated. The purse she got was pitifully flat, and when she asked for more for the saddle and bridle and blanket, the woman just laughed at her.\n\nShe would never have cheated the Hound, she thought during the long walk back to the docks. The distance seemed to have grown by miles since she'd ridden it.\n\nThe purple galley was still there. If the ship had sailed while she was being robbed, that would have been too much to bear. A cask of mead was being rolled up the plank when she arrived. When she tried to follow, a sailor upon deck shouted down at her in a tongue she did not know. \"I want to seethe captain,\" Arya told him. He only shouted louder. But the commotion drew the attention of a stout grey-haired man in a coat of purple wool, and he spoke the Common Tongue. \"I am captain here,\" he said. \"What is your wish? Be quick, child, we have a tide to catch.\"\n\n\"I want to go north, to the Wall. Here, I can pay.\" She gave him the purse. \"The Night's Watch has a castle on the sea.\"\n\n\"Eastwatch.\" The captain spilled out the silver onto his palm and frowned. \"Is this all you have?\"\n\nIt is not enough, Arya knew without being told. She could see it on his face. \"I wouldn't need a cabin or anything,\" she said. \"I could sleep down in the hold, or...\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Take heron as cabin girl,\" said a passing oarsman, a bolt of wool over one shoulder. \"She can sleep with me.\"\n\n\"Mind your tongue,\" the captain snapped.\n\n\"I could work,\" said Arya. \"I could scrub the decks. I scrubbed a castle steps once. Or I could row...\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, \"you couldn't.\" He gave her back her coins. \"It would make no difference if you could, child. The north has nothing for us. Ice and war and pirates. We saw a dozen pirate ships making north as we rounded Crackclaw Point, and I have no wish to meet them again. From here we bend our oars for home, and I suggest you do the same.\"\n\nI have no home, Arya thought. I have no pack. And now I don't even have a horse.\n\nThe captain was turning away when she said, \"What ship is this, my lord?\"\n\nHe paused long enough to give her a weary smile. \"This is the galleas Titan's Daughter, of the Free City of Braavos.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" Arya said suddenly. \"I have something else.\" She had stuffed it down inside her smallclothes to keep it safe, so she had to dig deep to find it, while the oarsmen laughed and the captain lingered with obvious impatience. \"One more silver will make no difference, child,\" he finally said.\n\n\"It's not silver.\" Her fingers closed on it. \"It's iron. Here.\" She pressed it into his hand, the small black iron coin that Jaqen H'ghar had given her, so worn the man whose head it bore had no features. It's probably worthless, but...\n\nThe captain turned it over and blinked at it, then looked at her again. \"This... how...?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jaqen said to say the words too. Arya crossed her arms against her chest. \"Valar morghulis,\" she said, as loud as if she'd known what it meant.\n\n\"Valar dohaeris,\" he replied, touching his brow with two fingers. \"Of course you shall have a cabin.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "SAMWELL\n\nHe sucks harder than mine.\" Gilly stroked the babe's head as she held him to her nipple.\n\n\"He's hungry,\" said the blonde woman Val, the one the black brothers called the wildling princess. \"He's lived on goats' milk up to now, and potions from that blind maester.\"\n\nThe boy did not have a name yet, no more than Gilly's did. That was the wildling way. Not even Mance Rayder's son would get a name till his third year, it would seem, though Sam had heard the brothers calling him'the little prince\" and'born-in-battle.\"\n\nHe watched the child nurse at Gilly's breast, and then he watched Jon watch. Jon is smiling. A sad smile, still, but definitely a smile of sorts. Sam was glad to see it. It is the first time I've seen him smile since I got back.\n\nThey had walked from the Nightfort to Deep Lake, and from Deep Lake to Queensgate, following a narrow track from one castle to the next, never out of sight of the Wall. A day and a half from Castle Black, as they trudged along on callused feet, Gilly heard horses behind them, and turned to see a column of black riders coming from the west. \"My brothers,\" Sam assured her. \"No one uses this road but the Night's Watch.\" It had turned out to be Ser Denys Mallister from the Shadow Tower, along with the wounded Bowen Marsh and the survivors from the fight at the Bridge of Skulls. When Sam saw Dywen, Giant, and Dolorous Edd Tollett, he broke down and wept.\n\nIt was from them that he learned about the battle beneath the Wall. \"Stannis landed his knights at Eastwatch, and Cotter Pyke led him along the ranger's roads, to take the wildlings unawares,\" Giant told him. \"He smashed them. Mance Rayder was taken captive, a thousand of his best slain, including Harma Dogshead. The rest scattered like leaves before a storm, we heard.\" The gods are good, Sam thought. If he had not gotten lost as he made his way south from Craster's Keep, he and Gilly might have walked right into the battle... or into Mance Rayder's camp, at the very least. That might have been well enough for Gilly and the boy, but not for him. Sam had heard all the stories about what wildlings did with captured crows. He shuddered."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nothing that his brothers told him prepared him for what he found at Castle Black, however. The common hall had burned to the ground and the great wooden stair was a mound of broken ice and scorched timbers. Donal Noye was dead, along with Rast, Deaf Dick, Red Alyn, and so many more, yet the castle was more crowded than Sam had ever seen; not with black brothers, but with the king's soldiers, more than a thousand of them. There was a king in the King's Tower for the first time in living memory, and banners flew from the Lance, Hardin's Tower, the Grey Keep, the Shieldhall, and other buildings that had stood empty and abandoned for long years. \"The big one, the gold with the black stag, that's the royal standard of House Baratheon,\" he told Gilly, who had never seen banners before. \"The fox-and-flowers is House Florent. The turtle is Estermont, the swordfish is Bar Emmon, and the crossed trumpets are for Wensington.\"\n\n\"They're all bright as flowers.\" Gilly pointed. \"I like those yellow ones, with the fire. Look, and some of the fighters have the same thing on their blouses.\"\n\n\"A fiery heart. I don't know whose sigil that is.\"\n\nHe found out soon enough. \"Queen's men,\" Pyp told him-after he let out a whoop, and shouted, \"Run and bar the doors, lads, it's Sam the Slayer comeback from the grave,\" while Grenn was hugging Sam so hard he thought his ribs might break-\"but best you don't go asking where the queen is. Stannis left her at Eastwatch, with their daughter and his fleet. He brought no woman but the redone.\"\n\n\"The redone?\" said Sam uncertainly."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"value": "\"Melisandre of Asshai,\" said Grenn. \"The king's sorceress. They say she burned a man alive at Dragonstone so Stannis would have favorable winds for his voyage north. She rode beside him in the battle too, and gave him his magic sword. Lightbringer, they call it. Wait till you see it. It glows like it had apiece of sun inside it.\" He looked at Sam again and grinned a big helpless stupid grin. \"I still can't believe you're here.\"\n\nJon Snow had smiled to see him too, but it was a tired smile, like the one he wore now. \"You made it back after all,\" he said. \"And brought Gilly out as well. You've done well, Sam.\"\n\nJon had done more than well himself, to hear Grenn tell it. Yet even capturing the Horn of Winter and a wildling prince had not been enough for Ser Alliser Thorne and his friends, who still named him turncloak. Though Maester Aemon said his wound was healing well, Jon bore other scars, deeper than the ones around his eye. He grieves for his wildling girl, and for his brothers.\n\n\"It's strange,\" he said to Sam. \"Craster had no love for Mance, nor Mance for Craster, but now Craster's daughter is feeding Mance's son.\"\n\n\"I have the milk,\" Gilly said, her voice soft and shy. \"Mine takes only a little. He's not so greedy as this one.\"\n\nThe wildling woman Val turned to face them. \"I've heard the queen's men saying that the red woman means to give Mance to the fire, as soon as he is strong enough.\"\n\nJon gave her a weary look. \"Mance is a deserter from the Night's Watch. The penalty for that is death. If the Watch had taken him, he would have been hanged by now, but he's the king's captive, and no one knows the king's mind but the red woman.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I want to see him,\" Val said. \"I want to show him his son. He deserves that much, before you kill him.\"\n\nSam tried to explain. \"No one is permitted to see him but Maester Aemon, my lady.\"\n\n\"If it were in my power, Mance could hold his son.\" Jon's smile was gone. \"I'm sorry, Val.\" He turned away. \"Sam and I have duties to return to. Well, Sam does, anyway. We'll ask about your seeing Mance. That's all I can promise.\"\n\nSam lingered long enough to give Gilly's hand a squeeze and promise to return again after supper. Then he hurried after. There were guards outside the door, queen's men with spears. Jon was halfway down the steps, but he waited when he heard Sam puffing after him. \"You're more than fond of Gilly, aren't you?\"\n\nSam reddened. \"Gilly's good. She's good and kind.\" He was glad that his long nightmare was done, glad to be back with his brothers at Castle Black... but some nights, alone in his cell, he thought of how warm Gilly had been when they'd curled up beneath the furs with the babe between them. \"She... she made me braver, Jon. Not brave, but... braver.\"\n\n\"You know you cannot keep her,\" Jon said gently, \"no more than I could stay with Ygritte. You said the words, Sam, the same as I did. The same as all of us.\"\n\n\"I know. Gilly said she'd be a wife tome, but... I told her about the words, and what they meant. I don't know if that made her sad or glad, but I told her.\" He swallowed nervously and said, \"Jon, could there be honor in a lie, if it were told fora... a good purpose?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It would depend on the lie and the purpose, I suppose.\" Jon looked at Sam. \"I wouldn't advise it. You're not made to lie, Sam. You blush and squeak and stammer.\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Sam, \"but I could lie in a letter. I'm better with a quill in hand. I had a... a thought. When things are more settled here, I thought maybe the best thing for Gilly... I thought I might send her to Horn Hill. To my mother and sisters and my... my f-f-father. If Gilly were to say the babe was m-mine...\" He was blushing again. \"My mother would want him, I know. She would find someplace for Gilly, some kind of service, it wouldn't be as hard as serving Craster. And Lord R-Randyll, he... he would never say so, but he might be pleased to believe I got a bastard on some wildling girl. At least it would prove I was man enough to lie with a woman and father a child. He told me once that I was sure to die a maiden, that no woman would ever... you know... Jon, if I did this, wrote this lie... would that be a good thing? The life the boy would have...\"\n\n\"Growing up a bastard in his grandfather's castle?\" Jon shrugged. \"That depends in great part on your father, and what sort of boy this is. If he takes after you...\"\n\n\"He won't. Craster's his real father. You saw him, he was hard as an old tree stump, and Gilly is stronger than she looks.\"\n\n\"If the boy shows any skill with sword or lance, he should have a place with your father's household guard at the least,\" Jon said. \"It's not unknown for bastards to be trained as squires and raised to knighthood. But you'd best be sure Gilly can play this game convincingly. From what you've told me of Lord Randyll, I doubt he would take kindly to being deceived.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "More guards were posted on the steps outside the tower. These were king's men, though; Sam had quickly learned the difference. The king's men were as earthy and impious as any other soldiers, but the queen's men were fervid in their devotion to Melisandre of Asshai and her Lord of Light. \"Are you going to the practice yard again?\" Sam asked as they crossed the yard. \"Is it wise to train so hard before your leg's done healing?\"\n\nJon shrugged. \"What else is therefor me to do? Marsh has removed me from duty, for fear that I'm still a turncloak.\"\n\n\"It's only a few who believe that,\" Sam assured him. \"Ser Alliser and his friends. Most of the brothers know better. King Stannis knows as well, I'll wager. You brought him the Horn of Winter and captured Mance Rayder's son.\"\n\n\"All I did was protect Val and the babe against looters when the wildlings fled, and keep them there until the rangers found us. I never captured anyone. King Stannis keeps his men well in hand, that's plain. He lets them plunder some, but I've only heard of three wildling women being raped, and the men who did it have all been gelded. I suppose I should have been killing the free folk as they ran. Ser Alliser has been putting it about that the only time I bared my sword was to defend our foes. I failed to kill Mance Rayder because I was in league with him, he says.\"\n\n\"That's only Ser Alliser,\" said Sam. \"Everyone knows the sort of man he is.\" With his noble birth, his knighthood, and his long years in the Watch, Ser Alliser Thorne might have been a strong challenger for the Lord Commander's title, but almost all the men he'd trained during his years as master-at-arms despised him. His name had been offered, of course, but after running a weak sixth on the first day and actually losing votes on the second, Thorne had withdrawn to support Lord Janos Slynt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What everyone knows is that Ser Alliser is a knight from a noble line, and trueborn, while I'm the bastard who killed Qhorin Halfhand and bedded with a spearwife."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The warg, I've heard them call me. How can I be a warg without a wolf, I ask you?\" His mouth twisted. \"I don't even dream of Ghost anymore. All my dreams are of the crypts, of the stone kings on their thrones. Sometimes I hear Robb's voice, and my father's, as if they were at a feast. But there's a wall between us, and I know that no place has been set for me.\"\n\nThe living have no place at the feasts of the dead. It tore the heart from Sam to hold his silence then. Bran's not dead, Jon, he wanted to stay. He's with friends, and they're going north on a giant elk to find a three-eyed crow in the depths of the haunted forest. It sounded so mad that there were times Sam Tarly thought he must have dreamt it all, conjured it whole from fever and fear and hunger... but he would have blurted it out anyway, if he had not given his word.\n\nThree times he had sworn to keep the secret; once to Bran himself, once to that strange boy Jojen Reed, and last of all to Coldhands. \"The world believes the boy is dead,\" his rescuer had said as they parted. \"Let his bones lie undisturbed. We want no seekers coming after us. Swear it, Samwell of the Night's Watch. Swear it for the life you owe me.\"\n\nMiserable, Sam shifted his weight and said, \"Lord Janos will never be chosen Lord Commander.\" It was the best comfort he had to offer Jon, the only comfort. \"That won't happen.\"\n\n\"Sam, you're a sweet fool. Open your eyes. It's been happening for days.\" Jon pushed his hair back out of his eyes and said, \"I may know nothing, but I know that. Now pray excuse me, I need to hit someone very hard with a sword.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was naught that Sam could do but watch him stride off toward the armory and the practice yard. That was where Jon Snow spent most of his waking hours. With Ser Endrew dead and Ser Alliser disinterested, Castle Black had no master-at-arms, so Jon had taken it on himself to work with some of the rawer recruits; Satin, Horse, Hop-Robin with his clubfoot, Arron and Emrick. And when they had duties, he would train alone for hours with sword and shield and spear, or match himself against anyone who cared to take him on.\n\nSam, you're a sweet fool, he could hear Jon saying, all the way back to the maester's keep. Open your eyes. It's been happening for days. Could he be right? A man needed the votes of two-thirds of the Sworn Brothers to become the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and after nine days and nine votes no one was even close to that. Lord Janos had been gaining, true, creeping up past first Bowen Marsh and then Othell Yarwyck, but he was still well behind Ser Denys Mallister of the Shadow Tower and Cotter Pyke of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. One of them will be the new Lord Commander, surely, Sam told himself.\n\nStannis had posted guards outside the maester's door too. Within, the rooms were hot and crowded with the wounded from the battle; black brothers, king's men, and queen's men, all three. Clydas was shuffling amongst them with flagons of goats\" milk and dreamwine, but Maester Aemon had not yet returned from his morning call on Mance Rayder. Sam hung his cloak upon a peg and went to lend a hand. But even as he fetched and poured and changed dressings, Jon's words nagged at him. Sam, you're a sweet fool. Open your eyes. It's been happening for days."
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"value": "It was a good hour before he could excuse himself to feed the ravens. On the way up to the rookery, he stopped to check the tally he had made of last night's count. At the start of the choosing, more than thirty names had been offered, but most had withdrawn once it became clear they could not win. Seven remained as of last night. Ser Denys Mallister had collected two hundred and thirteen tokens, Cotter Pyke one hundred and eighty-seven, Lord Slynt seventy-four, Othell Yarwyck sixty, Bowen Marsh forty-nine, Three-Finger Hobb five, and Dolorous Edd Tollett one. Pyp and his stupid japes. Sam shuffled through the earlier counts. Ser Denys, Cotter Pyke, and Bowen Marsh had all been falling since the third day, Othell Yarwyck since the sixth. Only Lord Janos Slynt was climbing, day after day after day.\n\nHe could hear the birds quorking in the rookery, so he put the papers away and climbed the steps to feed them. Three more ravens had come in, he saw with pleasure. \"Snow,\" they cried at him. \"Snow, snow, snow.\" He had taught them that. Even with the newcomers, the ravenry seemed dismally empty. Few of the birds that Aemon had sent off had returned as yet. One reached Stannis, though. One found Dragonstone, and a king who still cared. A thousand leagues south, Sam knew, his father had joined House Tarly to the cause of the boy on the Iron Throne, but neither King Joffrey nor little King Tommen had bestirred himself when the Watch cried out for help. What good is a king who will not defend his realm? he thought angrily, remembering the night on the Fist of the First Men and the terrible trek to Craster's Keep through darkness, fear, and falling snow. The queen's men made him uneasy, it was true, but at least they had come."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "That night at supper Sam looked for Jon Snow, but did not see him anywhere in the cavernous stone vault where the brothers now took their meals."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He finally took a place on the bench near his other friends. Pyp was telling Dolorous Edd about the contest they'd had to see which of the straw soldiers could collect the most wildling arrows. \"You were leading most of the way, but Watt of Long Lake got three in the last day and passed you.\"\n\n\"I never win anything,\" Dolorous Edd complained. \"The gods always smiled on Watt, though. When the wildlings knocked him off the Bridge of Skulls, somehow he landed in a nice deep pool of water. How lucky was that, missing all those rocks?\"\n\n\"Was it along fall?\" Grenn wanted to know. \"Did landing in the pool of water save his life?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Dolorous Edd. \"He was dead already, from that axe in his head. Still, it was pretty lucky, missing the rocks.\"\n\nThree-Finger Hobb had promised the brothers roast haunch of mammoth that night, maybe in hopes of cadging a few more votes. If that was his notion, he should have found a younger mammoth, Sam thought, as he pulled a string of gristle out from between his teeth. Sighing, he pushed the food away.\n\nThere would be another vote shortly, and the tensions in the air were thicker than the smoke. Cotter Pyke sat by the fire, surrounded by rangers from Eastwatch. Ser Denys Mallister was near the door with a smaller group of Shadow Tower men. Janos Slynt has the best place, Sam realized, halfway between the flames and the drafts. He was alarmed to see Bowen Marsh beside him, wan-faced and haggard, his head still wrapped in linen, but listening to all that Lord Janos had to say. When he pointed that out to his friends, Pyp said, \"And look down there, that's Ser Alliser whispering with Othell Yarwyck.\""
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"value": "After the meal Maester Aemon rose to ask if any of the brothers wished to speak before they cast their tokens. Dolorous Edd got up, stone-faced and glum as ever. \"I just want to say to whoever is voting for me that I would certainly make an awful Lord Commander. But so would all these others.\" He was followed by Bowen Marsh, who stood with one hand on Lord Slynt's shoulder. \"Brothers and friends, I am asking that my name be withdrawn from this choosing. My wound still troubles me, and the task is too large for me, I fear... but not for Lord Janos here, who commanded the gold cloaks of King's Landing for many years. Let us all give him our support.\"\n\nSam heard angry mutters from Cotter Pyke's end of the room, and Ser Denys looked atone of his companions and shook his head. It is too late, the damage is done. He wondered where Jon was, and why he had stayed away.\n\nMost of the brothers were unlettered, so by tradition the choosing was done by dropping tokens into a big potbellied iron kettle that Three-Finger Hobb and Owen the Oaf had dragged over from the kitchens. The barrels of tokens were off in a corner behind a heavy drape, so the voters could make their choice unseen. You were allowed to have a friend cast your token if you had duty, so some men took two tokens, three, or four, and Ser Denys and Cotter Pyke voted for the garrisons they had left behind.\n\nWhen the hall was finally empty, save for them, Sam and Clydas upended the kettle in front of Maester Aemon. A cascade of seashells, stones, and copper pennies covered the table. Aemon's wrinkled hands sorted with surprising speed, moving the shells here, the stones there, the pennies to one side, the occasional arrowhead, nail, and acorn off to themselves. Sam and Clydas counted the piles, each of them keeping his own tally."
},
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"value": "Tonight it was Sam's turn to give his results first. \"Two hundred and three for Ser Denys Mallister,\" he said. \"One hundred and sixty-nine for Cotter Pyke. One hundred and thirty-seven for Lord Janos Slynt, seventy-two for Othell Yarwyck, five for Three-Finger Hobb, and two for Dolorous Edd.\"\n\n\"I had one hundred and sixty-eight for Pyke,\" Clydas said. \"We are two votes short by my count, and one by Sam's.\"\n\n\"Sam's count is correct,\" said Maester Aemon. \"Jon Snow did not cast a token. It makes no matter. No one is close.\"\n\nSam was more relieved than disappointed. Even with Bowen Marsh's support, Lord Janos was still only third. \"Who are these five who keep voting for Three-Finger Hobb?\" he wondered.\n\n\"Brothers who want him out of the kitchens?\" said Clydas.\n\n\"Ser Denys is down ten votes since yesterday,\" Sam pointed out. \"And Cotter Pyke is down almost twenty. That's not good.\"\n\n\"Not good for their hopes of becoming Lord Commander, certainly,\" said Maester Aemon. \"Yet it maybe good for the Night's Watch, in the end. That is not for us to say. Ten days is not unduly long. There was once a choosing that lasted near two years, some seven hundred votes. The brothers will come to a decision in their own time.\"\n\nYes, Sam thought, but what decision?\n\nLater, over cups of watered wine in the privacy of Pyp's cell, Sam's tongue loosened and he found himself thinking aloud. \"Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister have been losing ground, but between them they still have almost two-thirds,\" he told Pyp and Grenn. \"Either one would be fine as Lord Commander. Someone needs to convince one of them to withdraw and support the other.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Someone?\" said Grenn, doubtfully. \"What someone?\"\n\n\"Grenn is so dumb he thinks someone might be him,\" said Pyp. \"Maybe when someone is done with Pyke and Mallister, he should convince King Stannis to marry Queen Cersei too.\"\n\n\"King Stannis is married,\" Grenn objected.\n\n\"What am I going to do with him, Sam?\" sighed Pyp.\n\n\"Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys don't like each other much,\" Grenn argued stubbornly. \"They fight about everything.\"\n\n\"Yes, but only because they have different ideas about what's best for the Watch,\" said Sam. \"If we explained-\"\n\n\"We?\" said Pyp. \"How did someone change to we? I'm the mummer's monkey, remember? And Grenn is, well, Grenn.\" He smiled at Sam, and wiggled his ears. \"You, now... you're a lord's son, and the maester's steward...\"\n\n\"And Sam the Slayer,\" said Grenn. \"You slew an Other.\"\n\n\"It was the dragonglass that killed it,\" Sam told him for the hundredth time.\n\n\"A lord's son, the maester's steward, and Sam the Slayer,\" Pyp mused. \"You could talk to them, might be...\"\n\n\"I could,\" said Sam, sounding as gloomy as Dolorous Edd, \"if I wasn't too craven to face them.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "JON\n\nJon prowled around Satin in a slow circle, sword in hand, forcing him to turn. \"Get your shield up,\" he said.\n\nIt's too heavy,\" the Oldtown boy complained.\n\n\"It's as heavy as it needs to be to stop a sword,\" Jon said. \"Now get it up.\" He stepped forward, slashing. Satin jerked the shield up in time to catch the sword on its rim, and swung his own blade at Jon's ribs. \"Good,\" Jon said, when he felt the impact on his own shield. \"That was good. But you need to put your body into it. Get your weight behind the steel and you'll do more damage than with arm strength alone. Come, try it again, drive at me, but keep the shield up or I'll ring your head like a bell...\"\n\nInstead Satin took a step backward and raised his visor. \"Jon,\" he said, in an anxious voice.\n\nWhen he turned, she was standing behind him, with half a dozen queen's men around her. Small wonder the yard grew so quiet. He had glimpsed Melisandre at her nightfires, and coming and going about the castle, but never so close. She's beautiful, he thought... but there was something more than a little unsettling about red eyes. \"My lady.\"\n\n\"The king would speak with you, Jon Snow.\"\n\nJon thrust the practice sword into the earth. \"Might I be allowed to change? I am in no fit state to stand before a king.\"\n\n\"We shall await you atop the Wall,\" said Melisandre. We, Jon heard, not he. It's as they say. This is his true queen, not the one he left at Eastwatch.\n\nHe hung his mail and plate inside the armory, returned to his own cell, discarded his sweat-stained clothes, and donned afresh set of blacks. It would be cold and windy in the cage, he knew, and colder and windier still on top of the ice, so he chose a heavy hooded cloak. Last of all he collected Longclaw, and slung the bastard sword across his back."
},
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"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Melisandre was waiting for him at the base of the Wall. She had sent her queen's men away. \"What does His Grace want of me?\" Jon asked her as they entered the cage.\n\n\"All you have to give, Jon Snow. He is a king.\"\n\nHe shut the door and pulled the bell cord. The winch began to turn. They rose. The day was bright and the Wall was weeping, long fingers of water trickling down its face and glinting in the sun. In the close confines of the iron cage, he was acutely aware of the red woman's presence. She even smells red. The scent reminded him of Mikken's forge, of the way iron smelled when red-hot; the scent was smoke and blood. Kissed by fire, he thought, remembering Ygritte. The wind got in amongst Melisandre's long red robes and sent them flapping against Jon's legs as he stood beside her. \"You are not cold, my lady?\" he asked her.\n\nShe laughed. \"Never.\" The ruby at her throat seemed to pulse, in time with the beating of her heart. \"The Lord's fire lives within me, Jon Snow. Feel.\" She put her hand on his cheek, and held it there while he felt how warm she was. \"That is how life should feel,\" she told him. \"Only death is cold.\"\n\nThey found Stannis Baratheon standing alone at the edge of the Wall, brooding over the field where he had won his battle, and the great green forest beyond. He was dressed in the same black breeches, tunic, and boots that a brother of the Night's Watch might wear. Only his cloak set him apart; a heavy golden cloak trimmed in black fur, and pinned with a brooch in the shape of a flaming heart. \"I have brought you the Bastard of Winterfell, Your Grace,\" said Melisandre."
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Stannis turned to study him. Beneath his heavy brow were eyes like bottomless blue pools. His hollow cheeks and strong jaw were covered with a short-cropped blue-black beard that did little to conceal the gauntness of his face, and his teeth were clenched. His neck and shoulders were clenched as well, and his right hand. Jon found himself remembering something Donal Noye once said about the Baratheon brothers. Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends. Uneasily, he knelt, wondering why this brittle king had need of him.\n\n\"Rise. I have heard much and more of you, Lord Snow.\"\n\n\"I am no lord, sire.\" Jon rose. \"I know what you have heard. That I am a turncloak, and craven. That I slew my brother Qhorin Halfhand so the wildlings would spare my life. That I rode with Mance Rayder, and took a wildling wife.\"\n\n\"Aye. All that, and more. You area warg too, they say, a skinchanger who walks at night as a wolf.\" King Stannis had a hard smile. \"How much of it is true?\"\n\n\"I had a direwolf, Ghost. I left him when I climbed the Wall near Greyguard, and have not seen him since. Qhorin Halfhand commanded me to join the wildlings. He knew they would make me kill him to prove myself, and told me to do whatever they asked of me. The woman was named Ygritte. I broke my vows with her, but I swear to you on my father's name that I never turned my cloak.\"\n\n\"I believe you,\" the king said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "That startled him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why?\"\n\nStannis snorted. \"I know Janos Slynt. And I knew Ned Stark as well. Your father was no friend of mine, but only a fool would doubt his honor or his honesty. You have his look.\" A big man, Stannis Baratheon towered over Jon, but he was so gaunt that he looked ten years older than he was. \"I know more than you might think, Jon Snow. I know it was you who found the dragonglass dagger that Randyll Tarly's son used to slay the Other.\"\n\n\"Ghost found it. The blade was wrapped in a ranger's cloak and buried beneath the Fist of the First Men. There were other blades as well... spearheads, arrowheads, all dragonglass.\"\n\n\"I know you held the gate here,\" King Stannis said. \"If not, I would have come too late.\"\n\n\"Donal Noye held the gate. He died below in the tunnel, fighting the king of the giants.\"\n\nStannis grimaced. \"Noye made my first sword for me, and Robert's warhammer as well. Had the god seen fit to spare him, he would have made a better Lord Commander for your order than any of these fools who are squabbling over it now.\"\n\n\"Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister are no fools, sire,\" Jon said. \"They're good men, and capable. Othell Yarwyck as well, in his own way. Lord Mormont trusted each of them.\"\n\n\"Your Lord Mormont trusted too easily. Else he would not have died as he did. But we were speaking of you. I have not forgotten that it was you who brought us this magic horn, and captured Mance Rayder's wife and son.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborate on the narrative and advance it.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 78"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "That startled him."
},
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"value": "\"Why?\"\n\nStannis snorted. \"I know Janos Slynt. And I knew Ned Stark as well. Your father was no friend of mine, but only a fool would doubt his honor or his honesty. You have his look.\" A big man, Stannis Baratheon towered over Jon, but he was so gaunt that he looked ten years older than he was. \"I know more than you might think, Jon Snow. I know it was you who found the dragonglass dagger that Randyll Tarly's son used to slay the Other.\"\n\n\"Ghost found it. The blade was wrapped in a ranger's cloak and buried beneath the Fist of the First Men. There were other blades as well... spearheads, arrowheads, all dragonglass.\"\n\n\"I know you held the gate here,\" King Stannis said. \"If not, I would have come too late.\"\n\n\"Donal Noye held the gate. He died below in the tunnel, fighting the king of the giants.\"\n\nStannis grimaced. \"Noye made my first sword for me, and Robert's warhammer as well. Had the god seen fit to spare him, he would have made a better Lord Commander for your order than any of these fools who are squabbling over it now.\"\n\n\"Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister are no fools, sire,\" Jon said. \"They're good men, and capable. Othell Yarwyck as well, in his own way. Lord Mormont trusted each of them.\"\n\n\"Your Lord Mormont trusted too easily. Else he would not have died as he did. But we were speaking of you. I have not forgotten that it was you who brought us this magic horn, and captured Mance Rayder's wife and son.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Dalla died.\" Jon was saddened by that still. \"Val is her sister. She and the babe did not require much capturing, Your Grace. You had put the wildlings to flight, and the skinchanger Mance had left to guard his queen went mad when the eagle burned.\" Jon looked at Melisandre. \"Some say that was your doing.\"\n\nShe smiled, her long copper hair tumbling across her face. \"The Lord of Light has fiery talons, Jon Snow.\"\n\nJon nodded, and turned back to the king. \"Your Grace, you spoke of Val. She has asked to see Mance Rayder, to bring his son to him. It would be a... a kindness.\"\n\n\"The man is a deserter from your order. Your brothers are all insisting on his death. Why should I do him a kindness?\"\n\nJon had no answer for that. \"If not for him, for Val. For her sister's sake, the child's mother.\"\n\n\"You are fond of this Val?\"\n\n\"I scarcely know her.\"\n\n\"They tell me she is comely.\"\n\n\"Very,\" Jon admitted.\n\n\"Beauty can be treacherous. My brother learned that lesson from Cersei Lannister. She murdered him, do not doubt it. Your father and Jon Arryn as well.\" He scowled. \"You rode with these wildlings. Is there any honor in them, do you think?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Jon said, \"but their own sort of honor, sire.\"\n\n\"In Mance Rayder?\"\n\n\"Yes. I think so.\"\n\n\"In the Lord of Bones?\"\n\nJon hesitated. \"Rattleshirt, we called him. Treacherous and blood-thirsty. If there's honor in him, he hides it down beneath his suit of bones.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And this other man, this Tormund of the many names who eluded us after the battle? Answer me truly.\"\n\n\"Tormund Giantsbane seemed tome the sort of man who would make a good friend and a bad enemy, Your Grace.\"\n\nStannis gave a curt nod. \"Your father was a man of honor. He was no friend tome, but I saw his worth. Your brother was a rebel and a traitor who meant to steal half my kingdom, but no man can question his courage. What of you?\"\n\nDoes he want me to say I love him? Jon's voice was stiff and formal as he said, \"I am a man of the Night's Watch.\"\n\n\"Words. Words are wind. Why do you think I abandoned Dragonstone and sailed to the Wall, Lord Snow?\"\n\n\"I am no lord, sire. You came because we sent for you, I hope. Though I could not say why you took so long about it.\"\n\nSurprisingly, Stannis smiled at that. \"You're bold enough to be a Stark. Yes, I should have come sooner. If not for my Hand, I might not have come at all. Lord Seaworth is a man of humble birth, but he reminded me of my duty, when all I could think of was my rights. I had the cart before the horse, Davos said. I was trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, when I should have been trying to save the kingdom to win the throne.\" Stannis pointed north. \"There is where I'll find the foe that I was born to fight.\"\n\n\"His name may not bespoken,\" Melisandre added softly. \"He is the God of Night and Terror, Jon Snow, and these shapes in the snow are his creatures.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"They tell me that you slew one of these walking corpses to save Lord Mormont's life,\" Stannis said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It maybe that this is your war as well, Lord Snow. If you will give me your help.\"\n\n\"My sword is pledged to the Night's Watch, Your Grace,\" Jon Snow answered carefully.\n\nThat did not please the king. Stannis ground his teeth and said, \"I need more than a sword from you.\"\n\nJon was lost. \"My lord?\"\n\n\"I need the north.\"\n\nThe north. \"I... my brother Robb was King in the North...\"\n\n\"Your brother was the rightful Lord of Winterfell. If he had stayed home and done his duty, instead of crowning himself and riding off to conquer the riverlands, he might be alive today. Be that as it may. You are not Robb, no more than I am Robert.\"\n\nThe harsh words had blown away whatever sympathy Jon might have had for Stannis. \"I loved my brother,\" he said.\n\n\"And I mine. Yet they were what they were, and so are we. I am the only true king in Westeros, north or south. And you are Ned Stark's bastard.\" Stannis studied him with those dark blue eyes. \"Tywin Lannister has named Roose Bolton his Warden of the North, to reward him for betraying your brother. The ironmen are fighting amongst themselves since Balon Greyjoy's death, yet they still hold Moat Cailin, Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's Square, and most of the Stony Shore. Your father's lands are bleeding, and I have neither the strength nor the time to stanch the wounds. What is needed is a Lord of Winterfell. A loyal Lord of Winterfell.\"\n\nHe is looking at me, Jon thought, stunned. \"Winterfell is no more. Theon Greyjoy put it to the torch.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Granite does not burn easily,\" Stannis said. \"The castle can be rebuilt, in time. It's not the walls that make a lord, it's the man. Your northmen do not know me, have no reason to love me, yet I will need their strength in the battles yet to come. I need a son of Eddard Stark to win them to my banner.\"\n\nHe would make me Lord of Winterfell. The wind was gusting, and Jon felt so light-headed he was half afraid it would blow him off the Wall. \"Your Grace,\" he said, \"you forget. I am a Snow, not a Stark.\"\n\n\"It's you who are forgetting,\" King Stannis replied.\n\nMelisandre put a warm hand on Jon's arm. \"A king can remove the taint of bastardy with a stroke, Lord Snow.\"\n\nLord Snow. Ser Alliser Thorne had named him that, to mock his bastard birth. Many of his brothers had taken to using it as well, some with affection, others to wound. But suddenly it had a different sound to it in Jon's ears. It sounded... real. \"Yes,\" he said, hesitantly, \"kings have legitimized bastards before, but... I am still a brother of the Night's Watch. I knelt before a heart tree and swore to hold no lands and father no children.\"\n\n\"Jon.\" Melisandre was so close he could feel the warmth of her breath. \"R'hllor is the only true god. Avow sworn to a tree has no more power than one sworn to your shoes. Open your heart and let the light of the Lord come in. Burn these weirwoods, and accept Winterfell as a gift of the Lord of Light.\"\n\nWhen Jon had been very young, too young to understand what it meant to be a bastard, he used to dream that one day Winterfell might be his. Later, when he was older, he had been ashamed of those dreams. Winterfell would go to Robb and then his sons, or to Bran or Rickon should Robb die childless. And after them came Sansa and Arya. Even to dream otherwise seemed disloyal, as if he were betraying them in his heart, wishing for their deaths. I never wanted this, he thought as he stood before the blue-eyed king and the red woman. I loved Robb, loved all of them... I never wanted any harm to come to any of them, but it did. And now there's only me. All he had to do was say the word, and he would be Jon Stark, and nevermore a Snow. All he had to do was pledge this king his fealty, and Winterfell was his. All he had to do..."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "... was forswear his vows again.\n\nAnd this time it would not be a ruse. To claim his father's castle, he must turn against his father's gods.\n\nKing Stannis gazed off north again, his gold cloak streaming from his shoulders. \"It maybe that I am mistaken in you, Jon Snow. We both know the things that are said of bastards. You may lack your father's honor, or your brother's skill in arms. But you are the weapon the Lord has given me. I have found you here, as you found the cache of dragonglass beneath the Fist, and I mean to make use of you. Even Azor Ahai did not win his war alone. I killed a thousand wildlings, took another thousand captive, and scattered the rest, but we both know they will return. Melisandre has seen that in her fires. This Tormund Thunderfist is likely re-forming them even now, and planning some new assault. And the more we bleed each other, the weaker we shall all be when the real enemy falls upon us.\"\n\nJon had come to that same realization. \"As you say, Your Grace.\" He wondered where this king, was going.\n\n\"Whilst your brothers have been struggling to decide who shall lead them, I have been speaking with this Mance Rayder.\" He ground his teeth. \"A stubborn man, that one, and prideful. He will leave me no choice but to give him to the flames. But we took other captives as well, other leaders. The one who calls himself the Lord of Bones, some of their clan chiefs, the new Magnar of Thenn. Your brothers will not like it, no more than your father's lords, but I mean to allow the wildlings through the Wall... those who will swear me their fealty, pledge to keep the king's peace and the king's laws, and take the Lord of Light as their god. Even the giants, if those great knees of theirs can bend. I will settle them on the Gift, once I have wrested it away from your new Lord Commander. When the cold winds rise, we shall live or die together. It is time we made alliance against our common foe.\" He looked at Jon. \"Would you agree?\""
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My father dreamed of resettling the Gift,\" Jon admitted. \"He and my uncle Benjen used to talk of it.\" He never thought of settling it with wildlings, though... but he never rode with wildlings, either. He did not fool himself; the free folk would make for unruly subjects and dangerous neighbors. Yet when he weighed Ygritte's red hair against the cold blue eyes of the wights, the choice was easy. \"I agree.\"\n\n\"Good,\" King Stannis said, \"for the surest way to seal anew alliance is with a marriage. I mean towed my Lord of Winterfell to this wildling princess.\"\n\nPerhaps Jon had ridden with the free folk too long; he could not help but laugh. \"Your Grace,\" he said, \"captive or no, if you think you can just give Val tome, I fear you have a deal to learn about wildling women. Whoever weds her had best be prepared to climb in her tower window and carry her off at swordpoint...\"\n\n\"Whoever?\" Stannis gave him a measuring look. \"Does this mean you will not wed the girl? I warn you, she is part of the price you must pay, if you want your father's name and your father's castle. This match is necessary, to help assure the loyalty of our new subjects. Are you refusing me, Jon Snow?\"\n\n\"No,\" Jon said, too quickly. It was Winterfell the king was speaking of, and Winterfell was not to be lightly refused. \"I mean... this has all come very suddenly, Your Grace. Might I beg you for sometime to consider?\"\n\n\"As you wish. But consider quickly. I am not a patient man, as your black brothers are about to discover.\" Stannis put a thin, fleshless hand on Jon's shoulder. \"Say nothing of what we've discussed here today. To anyone. But when you return, you need only bend your knee, lay your sword at my feet, and pledge yourself to my service, and you shall rise again as Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell.\""
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"value": "TYRION\n\nWhen he heard noises through the thick wooden door of his cell, Tyrion Lannister prepared to die.\n\nPast time, he thought. Come on, come on, make an end to it. He pushed himself to his feet. His legs were asleep from being folded under him. He bent down and rubbed the knives from them. I will not go stumbling and waddling to the headsman's block.\n\nHe wondered whether they would kill him down herein the dark or drag him through the city so Ser Ilyn Payne could lop his head off. After his mummer's farce of atrial, his sweet sister and loving father might prefer to dispose of him quietly, rather than risk a public execution. I could tell the mob a few choice things, if they let me speak. But would they be that foolish?\n\nAs the keys rattled and the door to his cell pushed inward, creaking, Tyrion pressed back against the dampness of the wall, wishing fora weapon. I can still bite and kick. I'll die with the taste of blood in my mouth, that's something. He wished he'd been able to think of some rousing last words. \"Bugger you all\" was not like to earn him much of a place in the histories.\n\nTorchlight fell across his face. He shielded his eyes with a hand. \"Come on, are you frightened of a dwarf? Do it, you son of a poxy whore.\" His voice had grown hoarse from disuse.\n\n\"Is that anyway to speak about our lady mother?\" The man moved forward, a torch in his left hand. \"This is even more ghastly than my cell at Riverrun, though not quite so dank.\"\n\nFora moment Tyrion could not breathe. \"You?\""
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"value": "\"Well, most of me.\" Jaime was gaunt, his hair hacked short. \"I left a hand at Harrenhal. Bringing the Brave Companions across the narrow sea was not one of Father's better notions.\" He lifted his arm, and Tyrion saw the stump.\n\nA bark of hysterical laughter burst from his lips. \"Oh, gods,\" he said. \"Jaime, I am so sorry, but... gods be good, look at the two of us. Handless and Noseless, the Lannister boys.\"\n\n\"There were days when my hand smelled so bad I wished I was noseless.\" Jaime lowered the torch, so the light bathed his brother's face. \"An impressive scar.\"\n\nTyrion turned away from the glare. \"They made me fight a battle without my big brother to protect me.\"\n\n\"I heard tell you almost burned the city down.\"\n\n\"A filthy lie. I only burned the river.\" Abruptly, Tyrion remembered where he was, and why. \"Are you hereto kill me?\"\n\n\"Now that's ungrateful. Perhaps I should leave you hereto rot if you're going to be so discourteous.\"\n\n\"Rotting is not the fate Cersei has in mind for me.\"\n\n\"Well no, if truth be told. You're to be beheaded on the morrow, out on the old tourney grounds.\"\n\nTyrion laughed again. \"Will there be food? You'll have to help me with my last words, my wits have been running about like a rat in a root cellar.\"\n\n\"You won't need last words. I'm rescuing you.\" Jaime's voice was strangely solemn.\n\n\"Who said I required rescue?\""
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"value": "\"You know, I'd almost forgotten what an annoying little man you are. Now that you've reminded me, I do believe I'll let Cersei cut your head off after all.\"\n\n\"Oh no you won't.\" He waddled out of the cell. \"Is it day or night up above? I've lost all sense of time.\"\n\n\"Three hours past midnight. The city sleeps.\" Jaime slid the torch back into its sconce, on the wall between the cells.\n\nThe corridor was so poorly lit that Tyrion almost stumbled on the turnkey, sprawled across the cold stone floor. He prodded him with a toe. \"Is he dead?\"\n\n\"Asleep. The other three as well. The eunuch dosed their wine with sweetsleep, but not enough to kill them. Or so he swears. He is waiting back at the stair, dressed up in a septon's robe. You're going down into the sewers, and from thereto the river. A galley is waiting in the bay. Varys has agents in the Free Cities who will see that you do not lack for funds... but try not to be conspicuous. Cersei will send men after you, I have no doubt. You might do well to take another name.\"\n\n\"Another name? Oh, certainly. And when the Faceless Men come to kill me, I'll say,\"No, you have the wrong man, I'm a different dwarf with a hideous facial scar.\"\" Both Lannisters laughed at the absurdity of it all. Then Jaime went to one knee and kissed him quickly once on each cheek, his lips brushing against the puckered ribbon of scar tissue.\n\n\"Thank you, Brother,\" Tyrion said. \"For my life.\"\n\n\"It was... a debt I owed you.\" Jaime's voice was strange."
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"value": "\"A debt?\" He cocked his head. \"I do not understand.\"\n\n\"Good. Some doors are best left closed.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear,\" said Tyrion. \"Is there something grim and ugly behind it? Could it be that someone said something cruel about me once? I'll try not to weep. Tell me.\"\n\n\"Tyrion...\"\n\nJaime is afraid. \"Tell me,\" Tyrion said again.\n\nHis brother looked away. \"Tysha,\" he said softly.\n\n\"Tysha?\" His stomach tightened. \"What of her?\"\n\n\"She was no whore. I never bought her for you. That was a lie that Father commanded me to tell. Tysha was... she was what she seemed to be. A crofter's daughter, chance met on the road.\"\n\nTyrion could hear the faint sound of his own breath whistling hollowly through the scar of his nose. Jaime could not meet his eyes. Tysha. He tried to remember what she had looked like. A girl, she was only a girl, no older than Sansa. \"My wife,\" he croaked. \"Shewed me.\"\n\n\"For your gold, Father said. She was lowborn, you were a Lannister of Casterly Rock. All she wanted was the gold, which made her no different from a whore, so... so it would not be a lie, not truly, and... he said that you required a sharp lesson. That you would learn from it, and thank me later...\"\n\n\"Thank you?\" Tyrion's voice was choked. \"He gave her to his guards. A barracks full of guards. He made me... watch.\" Aye, and more than watch. I took her too... my wife..."
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"value": "\"I never knew he would do that. You must believe me.\"\n\n\"Oh, must I?\" Tyrion snarled. \"Why should I believe you about anything, ever? She was my wife!\"\n\n\"Tyrion-\"\n\nHe hit him. It was a slap, backhanded, but he put all his strength into it, all his fear, all his rage, all his pain. Jaime was squatting, unbalanced. The blow sent him tumbling backward to the floor. \"I... I suppose I earned that.\"\n\n\"Oh, you've earned more than that, Jaime. You and my sweet sister and our loving father, yes, I can't begin to tell you what you've earned. But you'll have it, that I swear to you. A Lannister always pays his debts.\" Tyrion waddled away, almost stumbling over the turnkey again in his haste. Before he had gone a dozen yards, he bumped up against an iron gate that closed the passage. Oh, gods. It was all he could do not to scream.\n\nJaime came up behind him. \"I have the gaoler's keys.\"\n\n\"Then use them.\" Tyrion stepped aside.\n\nJaime unlocked the gate, pushed it open, and stepped through. He looked back over his shoulder. \"Are you coming?\"\n\n\"Not with you.\" Tyrion stepped through. \"Give me the keys and go. I will find Varys on my own.\" He cocked his head and stared up at his brother with his mismatched eyes. \"Jaime, can you fight left-handed?\"\n\n\"Rather less well than you,\" Jaime said bitterly.\n\n\"Good. Then we will be well matched if we should ever meet again. The cripple and the dwarf.\""
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"value": "Jaime handed him the ring of keys. \"I gave you the truth. You owe me the same. Did you do it? Did you kill him?\"\n\nThe question was another knife, twisting in his guts. \"Are you sure you want to know?\" asked Tyrion. \"Joffrey would have been a worse king than Aerys ever was. He stole his father's dagger and gave it to a footpad to slit the throat of Brandon Stark, did you know that?\"\n\n\"I... I thought he might have.\"\n\n\"Well, a son takes after his father. Joff would have killed meas well, once he came into his power. For the crime of being short and ugly, of which I am so conspicuously guilty.\"\n\n\"You have not answered my question.\"\n\n\"You poor stupid blind crippled fool. Must Ispell every little thing out for you? Very well. Cersei is a lying whore, she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know. And I am the monster they all say I am. Yes, I killed your vile son.\" He made himself grin. It must have been a hideous sight to see, therein the torchlit gloom.\n\nJaime turned without a word and walked away.\n\nTyrion watched him go, striding on his long strong legs, and part of him wanted to call out, to tell him that it wasn't true, to beg for his forgiveness. But then he thought of Tysha, and he held his silence. He listened to the receding footsteps until he could hear them no longer, then waddled off to look for Varys.\n\nThe eunuch was lurking in the dark of a twisting turnpike stair, garbed in a moth-eaten brown robe with a hood that hid the paleness of his face. \"You were so long, I feared that something had gone amiss,\" he said when he saw Tyrion."
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"value": "\"Oh, no,\" Tyrion assured him, in poisonous tones. \"What could possibly have gone amiss?\" He twisted his head back to stare up. \"I sent for you during my trial.\"\n\n\"I could not come. The queen had me watched, night and day. I dared not help you.\"\n\n\"You're helping me now.\"\n\n\"Am I? Ah.\" Varys giggled. It seemed strangely out of place in this place of cold stone and echoing darkness. \"Your brother can be most persuasive.\"\n\n\"Varys, you areas cold and slimy as a slug, has anyone ever told you? You did your best to kill me. Perhaps I ought to return the favor.\"\n\nThe eunuch sighed. \"The faithful dog is kicked, and no matter how the spider weaves, he is never loved. But if you slay me here, I fear for you, my lord. You may never find your way back to daylight.\" His eyes glittered in the shifting torchlight, dark and wet. \"These tunnels are full of traps for the unwary.\"\n\nTyrion snorted. \"Unwary? I'm the wariest man whoever lived, you helped see to that.\" He rubbed at his nose. \"So tell me, wizard, where is my innocent maiden wife?\"\n\n\"I have found no trace of Lady Sansa in King's Landing, sad to say. Nor of Ser Dontos Hollard, who by rights should have turned up somewhere drunk by now. They were seen together on the serpentine steps the night she vanished. After that, nothing. There was much confusion that night. My little birds are silent.\" Varys gave a gentle tug at the dwarf's sleeve and pulled him into the stair. \"My lord, we must away. Your path is down.\""
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"value": "That's no lie, at least. Tyrion waddled along in the eunuch's wake, his heels scraping against the rough stone as they descended. It was very cold within the stairwell, a damp bone-chilling cold that set him to shivering at once. \"What part of the dungeons are these?\" he asked.\n\n\"Maegor the Cruel decreed four levels of dungeons for his castle,\" Varys replied. \"On the upper level, there are large cells where common criminals maybe confined together. They have narrow windows set high in the walls. The second level has the smaller cells where highborn captives are held. They have no windows, but torches in the halls cast light through the bars. On the third level the cells are smaller and the doors are wood. The black cells, men call them. That was where you were kept, and Eddard Stark before you. But there is a level lower still. Once a man is taken down to the fourth level, he never sees the sun again, nor hears a human voice, nor breathes a breath free of agonizing pain. Maegor had the cells on the fourth level built for torment.\" They had reached the bottom of the steps. An unlighted door opened before them. \"This is the fourth level. Give me your hand, my lord. It is safer to walk in darkness here. There are things you would not wish to see.\"\n\nTyrion hung back a moment. Varys had already betrayed him once. Who knew what game the eunuch was playing? And what better place to murder a man than down in the darkness, in a place that no one knew existed? His body might never be found.\n\nOn the other hand, what choice did he have? Togo backup the steps and walkout the main gate? No, that would not serve."
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"value": "Jaime would not be afraid, he thought, before he remembered what Jaime had done to him. He took the eunuch by the hand and let himself be led through the black, following the soft scrape of leather on stone. Varys walked quickly, from time to time whispering, \"Careful, there are three steps ahead,\" or, \"The tunnel slopes downward here, my lord.\" I arrived here a King's Hand, riding through the gates at the head of my own sworn men, Tyrion reflected, and I leave like a rat scuttling through the dark, holding hands with a spider.\n\nAlight appeared ahead of them, too dim to be daylight, and grew as they hurried toward it. After awhile he could see it was an arched doorway, closed off by another iron gate. Varys produced a key. They stepped through into a small round chamber. Five other doors opened off the room, each barred in iron. There was an opening in the ceiling as well, and a series of rungs set in the wall below, leading upward. An ornate brazier stood to one side, fashioned in the shape of a dragon's head. The coals in the beast's yawning mouth had burnt down to embers, but they still glowed with a sullen orange light. Dim as it was, the light was welcome after the blackness of the tunnel.\n\nThe juncture was otherwise empty, but on the floor was a mosaic of a three-headed dragon wrought in red and black tiles. Something niggled at Tyrion fora moment. Then it came to him. This is the place Shae told me of, when Varys first led her to my bed. \"We are below the Tower of the Hand.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Frozen hinges screamed in protest as Varys pulled open along-closed door. Flakes of rust drifted to the floor. \"This will take us out to the river.\""
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"value": "Tyrion walked slowly to the ladder, ran his hand across the lowest rung. \"This will take me up to my bedchamber.\"\n\n\"Your lord father's bedchamber now.\"\n\nHe looked up the shaft. \"How far must I climb?\"\n\n\"My lord, you are too weak for such follies, and there is besides no time. We must go.\"\n\n\"I have business above. How far?\"\n\n\"Two hundred and thirty rungs, but whatever you intend-\"\n\n\"Two hundred and thirty rungs, and then?\"\n\n\"The tunnel to the left, but hear me-\"\n\n\"How far along to the bedchamber?\" Tyrion lifted afoot to the lowest rung of the ladder.\n\n\"No more than sixty feet. Keep one hand on the wall as you go. You will feel the doors. The bedchamber is the third.\" He sighed. \"This is folly, my lord. Your brother has given you your life back. Would you cast it away, and mine with it?\"\n\n\"Varys, the only thing I valueless than my life just now is yours. Wait for me here.\" He turned his back on the eunuch and began to climb, counting silently as he went.\n\nRung by rung, he ascended into darkness. At first he could seethe dim outline of each rung as he grasped it, and the rough grey texture of the stone behind, but as he climbed the black grew thicker. Thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen. By thirty, his arms trembled with the strain of pulling. He paused a moment to catch his breath and glanced down. A circle of faint light shone far below, half obscured by his own feet. Tyrion resumed his ascent. Thirty-nine forty forty-one. By fifty, his legs burned. The ladder was endless, numbing. Sixty-eight sixty-nine seventy. By eighty, his back was a dull agony. Yet still he climbed. He could not have said why. One thirteen one fourteen one fifteen."
},
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"value": "At two hundred and thirty, the shaft was black as pitch, but he could feel the warm air flowing from the tunnel to his left, like the breath of some great beast."
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"value": "He poked about awkwardly with afoot and edged off the ladder. The tunnel was even more cramped than the shaft. Any man of normal size would have had to crawl on hands and knees, but Tyrion was short enough to walk upright. At last, a place made for dwarfs. His boots scuffed softly against the stone. He walked slowly, counting steps, feeling for gaps in the walls. Soon he began to hear voices, muffled and indistinct at first, then clearer. He listened more closely. Two of his father's guardsmen were joking about the Imp's whore, saying how sweet it would be to fuck her, and how bad she must want areal cock in place of the dwarf's stunted little thing. \"Most like it's got a crook in it,\" said Lum. That led him into a discussion of how Tyrion would die on the morrow. \"He'll weep like a woman and beg for mercy, you'll see,\" Lum insisted. Lester figured he'd face the axe brave as a lion, being a Lannister, and he was willing to bet his new boots on it. \"Ah, shit in your boots,\" said Lum, \"you know they'd never fit these feet o'mine. Tell you what, if I win you can scour my bloody mail fora fortnight.\"\n\nFor the space of a few feet, Tyrion could hear every word of their haggling, but when he moved on, the voices faded quickly. Small wonder Varys did not want me to climb the bloody ladder, Tyrion thought, smiling in the dark. Little birds indeed.\n\nHe came to the third door and fumbled about fora longtime before his fingers brushed a small iron hook set between two stones. When he pulled down on it, there was a soft rumble that sounded loud as an avalanche in the stillness, and a square of dull orange light opened afoot to his left."
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"value": "The hearth! He almost laughed. The fireplace was full of hot ash, and a black log with a hot orange heart burning within. He edged past gingerly, taking quicksteps so as not to burn his boots, the warm cinders crunching softly under his heels. When he found himself in what had once been his bedchamber, he stood along moment, breathing the silence. Had his father heard? Would he reach for his sword, raise the hue and cry?\n\n\"M'lord?\" a woman's voice called.\n\nThat might have hurt me once, when I still felt pain. The first step was the hardest. When he reached the bed Tyrion pulled the draperies aside and there she was, turning toward him with a sleepy smile on her lips. It died when she saw him. She pulled the blankets up to her chin, as if that would protect her.\n\n\"Were you expecting someone taller, sweetling?\"\n\nBig wet tears filled her eyes. \"I never meant those things I said, the queen made me. Please. Your father frightens me so.\" She sat up, letting the blanket slide down to her lap. Beneath it she was naked, but for the chain about her throat. A chain of linked golden hands, each holding the next.\n\n\"My lady Shae,\" Tyrion said softly. \"All the time I satin the black cell waiting to die, I kept remembering how beautiful you were. In silk or roughspun or nothing at all...\"\n\n\"M'lord will be back soon. You should go, or... did you come to take me away?\"\n\n\"Did you ever like it?\" He cupped her cheek, remembering all the times he had done this before. All the times he'd slid his hands around her waist, squeezed her small firm breasts, stroked her short dark hair, touched her lips, her cheeks, her ears. All the times he had opened her with a finger to probe her secret sweetness and make her moan. \"Did you ever like my touch?\""
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"value": "\"More than anything,\" she said, \"my giant of Lannister.\"\n\nThat was the worst thing you could have said, sweetling.\n\nTyrion slid a hand under his father's chain, and twisted. The links tightened, digging into her neck. \"For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm,\" he said. He gave cold hands another twist as the warm ones beat away his tears.\n\nAfterward he found Lord Tywin's dagger on the bedside table and shoved it through his belt. A lion-headed mace, a poleaxe, and a crossbow had been hung on the walls. The poleaxe would be clumsy to wield inside a castle, and the mace was too high to reach, but a large wood-and-iron chest had been placed against the wall directly under the crossbow. He climbed up, pulled down the bow and a leather quiver packed with quarrels, jammed afoot into the stirrup, and pushed down until the bowstring cocked. Then he slipped a bolt into the notch.\n\nJaime had lectured him more than once on the drawbacks of crossbows. If Lum and Lester emerged from wherever they were talking, he'd never have time to reload, but at least he'd take one down to hell with him. Lum, if he had a choice. You'll have to clean your own mail, Lum. You lose.\n\nWaddling to the door, he listened a moment, then eased it open slowly. A lamp burned in a stone niche, casting wan yellow light over the empty hallway. Only the flame was moving. Tyrion slid out, holding the crossbow down against his leg.\n\nHe found his father where he knew he'd find him, seated in the dimness of the privy tower, bedrobe hiked up around his hips. At the sound of steps, Lord Tywin raised his eyes."
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"value": "Tyrion gave him a mocking half bow. \"My lord.\"\n\n\"Tyrion.\" If he was afraid, Tywin Lannister gave no hint of it. \"Who released you from your cell?\"\n\n\"I'd love to tell you, but I swore a holy oath.\"\n\n\"The eunuch,\" his father decided. \"I'll have his head for this. Is that my crossbow? Put it down.\"\n\n\"Will you punish me if I refuse, Father?\"\n\n\"This escape is folly. You are not to be killed, if that is what you fear. It's still my intent to send you to the Wall, but I could not do it without Lord Tyrell's consent. Put down the crossbow and we will go back to my chambers and talk of it.\"\n\n\"We can talk here just as well. Perhaps I don't choose to go to the Wall, Father. It's bloody cold up there, and I believe I've had enough coldness from you. So just tell me something, and I'll be on my way. One simple question, you owe me that much.\"\n\n\"I owe you nothing.\"\n\n\"You've given me less than that, all my life, but you'll give me this. What did you do with Tysha?\"\n\n\"Tysha?\"\n\nHe does not even remember her name. \"The girl I married.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. Your first whore.\"\n\nTyrion took aim at his father's chest. \"The next time you say that word, I'll kill you.\"\n\n\"You do not have the courage.\"\n\n\"Shall we find out? It's a short word, and it seems to come so easily to your lips.\" Tyrion gestured impatiently with the bow. \"Tysha. What did you do with her, after my little lesson?\""
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"value": "\"I don't recall.\"\n\n\"Try harder. Did you have her killed?\"\n\nHis father pursed his lips. \"There was no reason for that, she'd learned her place... and had been well paid for her day's work, I seem to recall. I suppose the steward sent heron her way. I never thought to inquire.\"\n\n\"On her way where?\"\n\n\"Wherever whores go.\"\n\nTyrion's finger clenched. The crossbow whanged just as Lord Tywin started to rise. The bolt slammed into him above the groin and he sat back down with a grunt. The quarrel had sunk deep, right to the fletching. Blood seeped out around the shaft, dripping down into his pubic hair and over his bare thighs. \"You shot me,\" he said incredulously, his eyes glassy with shock.\n\n\"You always were quick to grasp a situation, my lord,\" Tyrion said. \"That must be why you're the Hand of the King.\"\n\n\"You... you are no... no son of mine.\"\n\n\"Now that's where you're wrong, Father. Why, I believe I'm you writ small. Dome a kindness now, and die quickly. I have a ship to catch.\"\n\nFor once, his father did what Tyrion asked him. The proof was the sudden stench, as his bowels loosened in the moment of death. Well, he was in the right place for it, Tyrion thought. But the stink that filled the privy gave ample evidence that the oft-repeated jape about his father was just another lie.\n\nLord Tywin Lannister did not, in the end, shit gold."
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"value": "SAMWELL\n\nThe king was angry. Sam saw that at once.\n\nAs the black brothers entered one by one and knelt before him, Stannis shoved away his breakfast of hardbread, salt beef, and boiled eggs, and eyed them coldly. Beside him, the red woman Melisandre looked as if she found the scene amusing.\n\nI have no place here, Sam thought anxiously, when her red eyes fell upon him. Someone had to help Maester Aemon up the steps. Don't look at me, I'm just the maester's steward. The others were contenders for the Old Bear's command, all but Bowen Marsh, who had withdrawn from the contest but remained castellan and Lord Steward. Sam did not understand why Melisandre should seem so interested in him.\n\nKing Stannis kept the black brothers on their knees for an extraordinarily longtime. \"Rise,\" he said at last. Sam gave Maester Aemon his shoulder to help him backup.\n\nThe sound of Lord Janos Slynt clearing his throat broke the strained silence. \"Your Grace, let me say how pleased we are to be summoned here. When I saw your banners from the Wall, I knew the realm was saved. \"There comes a man who ne'er forgets his duty, \"I said to good Ser Alliser.\"A strongman, and a true king. ' May I congratulate you on your victory over the savages? The singers will make much of it, I know-\"\n\n\"The singers may do as they like,\" Stannis snapped. \"Spare me your fawning, Janos, it will not serve you.\" He rose to his feet and frowned at them all. \"Lady Melisandre tells me that you have not yet chosen a Lord Commander. I am displeased. How much longer must this folly last?\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sire,\" said Bowen Marsh in a defensive tone, \"no one has achieved two-thirds of the vote yet. It has only been ten days.\"\n\n\"Nine days too long. I have captives to dispose of, a realm to order, a war to fight. Choices must be made, decisions that involve the Wall and the Night's Watch. By rights your Lord Commander should have a voice in those decisions.\"\n\n\"He should, yes,\" said Janos Slynt. \"But it must be said. We brothers are only simple soldiers. Soldiers, yes! And Your Grace will know that soldiers are most comfortable taking orders. They would benefit from your royal guidance, it seems tome. For the good of the realm. To help them choose wisely.\"\n\nThe suggestion outraged some of the others. \"Do you want the king to wipe our arses for us too?\" said Cotter Pyke angrily. \"The choice of a Lord Commander belongs to the Sworn Brothers, and to them alone,\" insisted Ser Denys Mallister. \"If they choose wisely they won't be choosing me,\" moaned Dolorous Edd. Maester Aemon, calm as always, said, \"Your Grace, the Night's Watch has been choosing its own leader since Brandon the Builder raised the Wall. Through Jeor Mormont we have had nine hundred and ninety-seven Lords Commander in unbroken succession, each chosen by the men he would lead, a tradition many thousands of years old.\"\n\nStannis ground his teeth. \"It is not my wish to tamper with your rights and traditions. As to royal guidance, Janos, if you mean that I ought to tell your brothers to choose you, have the courage to say so.\"\n\nThat took Lord Janos aback. He smiled uncertainly and began to sweat, but Bowen Marsh beside him said, \"Who better to command the black cloaks than a man who once commanded the gold, sire?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Any of you, I would think. Even the cook.\" The look the king gave Slynt was cold. \"Janos was hardly the first gold cloak ever to take a bribe, I grant you, but he may have been the first commander to fatten his purse by selling places and promotions. By the end he must have had half the officers in the City Watch paying him part of their wages. Isn't that so, Janos?\"\n\nSlynt's neck was purpling. \"Lies, all lies! A strongman makes enemies, Your Grace knows that, they whisper lies behind your back. Naught was ever proven, not a man came forward...\"\n\n\"Two men who were prepared to come forward died suddenly on their rounds.\" Stannis narrowed his eyes. \"Do not trifle with me, my lord. I saw the proof Jon Arryn laid before the small council. If I had been king you would have lost more than your office, I promise you, but Robert shrugged away your little lapses. \"They all steal,\" I recall him saying. \"Better a thief we know than one we don't, the next man might be worse. \"Lord Petyr's words in my brother's mouth, I'll warrant. Littlefinger had a nose for gold, and I'm certain he arranged matters so the crown profited as much from your corruption as you did yourself.\"\n\nLord Slynt's jowls were quivering, but before he could frame a further protest Maester Aemon said, \"Your Grace, bylaw a man's past crimes and transgressions are wiped clean when he says his words and becomes a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch.\"\n\n\"I am aware of that. If it happens that Lord Janos here is the best the Night's Watch can offer, I shall grit my teeth and choke him down. It is naught tome which man of you is chosen, so long as you make a choice. We have a war to fight.\""
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your Grace,\" said Ser Denys Mallister, intones of wary courtesy. \"If you are speaking of the wildlings...\"\n\n\"I am not. And you know that, ser.\"\n\n\"And you must know that whilst we are thankful for the aid you rendered us against Mance Rayder, we can offer you no help in your contest for the throne. The Night's Watch takes no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms. For eight thousand years-\"\n\n\"I know your history, Ser Denys,\" the king said brusquely. \"I give you my word, I shall not ask you to lift your swords against any of the rebels and usurpers who plague me. I do expect that you will continue to defend the Wall as you always have.\"\n\n\"We'll defend the Wall to the last man,\" said Cotter Pyke.\n\n\"Probably me,\" said Dolorous Edd, in a resigned tone.\n\nStannis crossed his arms. \"I shall require a few other things from you as well. Things that you may not be so quick to give. I want your castles. And I want the Gift.\"\n\nThose blunt words burst among the black brothers like a pot of wildfire tossed onto a brazier. Marsh, Mallister, and Pyke all tried to speak at once. King Stannis let them talk. When they were done, he said, \"I have three times the men you do. I can take the lands if I wish, but I would prefer to do this legally, with your consent.\"\n\n\"The Gift was given to the Night's Watch in perpetuity, Your Grace,\" Bowen Marsh insisted.\n\n\"Which means it cannot be lawfully seized, attained, or taken from you. But what was given once can be given again.\"\n\n\"What will you do with the Gift?\" demanded Cotter Pyke."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Make better use of it than you have. As to the castles, Eastwatch, Castle Black, and the Shadow Tower shall remain yours. Garrison them as you always have, but I must take the others for my garrisons if we are to hold the Wall.\"\n\n\"You do not have the men,\" objected Bowen Marsh.\n\n\"Some of the abandoned castles are scarce more than ruins,\" said Othell Yarwyck, the First Builder.\n\n\"Ruins can be rebuilt.\"\n\n\"Rebuilt?\" Yarwyck said. \"But who will do the work?\"\n\n\"That is my concern. I shall require a list from you, detailing the present state of every castle and what might be required to restore it. I mean to have them all garrisoned again within the year, and nightfires burning before their gates.\"\n\n\"Nightfires?\" Bowen Marsh gave Melisandre an uncertain look. \"We're to light nightfires now?\"\n\n\"You are.\" The woman rose in a swirl of scarlet silk, her long copper-bright hair tumbling about her shoulders. \"Swords alone cannot hold this darkness back. Only the light of the Lord can do that. Make no mistake, good sers and valiant brothers, the war we've come to fight is no petty squabble over lands and honors. Ours is a war for life itself, and should we fail the world dies with us.\"\n\nThe officers did not know how to take that, Sam could see. Bowen Marsh and Othell Yarwyck exchanged a doubtful look, Janos Slynt was fuming, and Three-Finger Hobb looked as though he would sooner be back chopping carrots. But all of them seemed surprised to hear Maester Aemon murmur, \"It is the war for the dawn you speak of, my lady. But where is the prince that was promised?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He stands before you,\" Melisandre declared, \"though you do not have the eyes to see. Stannis Baratheon is Azor Ahai come again, the warrior of fire. In him the prophecies are fulfilled. The red comet blazed across the sky to herald his coming, and he bears Lightbringer, the red sword of heroes.\"\n\nHer words seemed to make the king desperately uncomfortable, Sam saw. Stannis ground his teeth, and said, \"You called and I came, my lords. Now you must live with me, or die with me. Best get used to that.\" He made a brusque gesture. \"That's all. Maester, stay a moment. And you, Tarly. The rest of you may go.\"\n\nMe? Sam thought, stricken, as his brothers were bowing and making their way out. What does he want with me?\n\n\"You are the one that killed the creature in the snow,\" King Stannis said, when only the four of them remained.\n\n\"Sam the Slayer.\" Melisandre smiled.\n\nSam felt his face turning red. \"No, my lady. Your Grace. I mean, I am, yes. I'm Samwell Tarly, yes.\"\n\n\"Your father is an able soldier,\" King Stannis said. \"He defeated my brother once, at Ashford. Mace Tyrell has been pleased to claim the honors for that victory, but Lord Randyll had decided matters before Tyrell ever found the battlefield. He slew Lord Cafferen with that great Valyrian sword of his and sent his head to Aerys.\" The king rubbed his jaw with a finger. \"You are not the sort of son I would expect such a man to have.\"\n\n\"I... I am not the sort of son he wanted, sire.\""
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If you had not taken the black, you would make a useful hostage,\" Stannis mused.\n\n\"He has taken the black, sire,\" Maester Aemon pointed out.\n\n\"I am well aware of that,\" the king said. \"I am aware of more than you know, Aemon Targaryen.\"\n\nThe old man inclined his head. \"I am only Aemon, sire. We give up our House names when we forge our maester's chains.\"\n\nThe king gave that a curt nod, as if to say he knew and did not care. \"You slew this creature with an obsidian dagger, I am told,\" he said to Sam.\n\n\"Y-yes, Your Grace. Jon Snow gave it tome.\"\n\n\"Dragonglass.\" The red woman's laugh was music. \"Frozen fire, in the tongue of old Valyria. Small wonder it is anathema to these cold children of the Other.\"\n\n\"On Dragonstone, where I had my seat, there is much of this obsidian to be seen in the old tunnels beneath the mountain,\" the king told Sam. \"Chunks of it, boulders, ledges. The great part of it was black, as I recall, but there was some green as well, some red, even purple. I have sent word to Ser Rolland my castellan to begin mining it. I will not hold Dragonstone for very much longer, I fear, but perhaps the Lord of Light shall grant us enough frozen fire to arm ourselves against these creatures, before the castle falls.\"\n\nSam cleared his throat. \"S-sire. The dagger... the dragonglass only shattered when I tried to stab a wight.\"\n\nMelisandre smiled. \"Necromancy animates these wights, yet they are still only dead flesh. Steel and fire will serve for them. The ones you call the Others are something more.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Demons made of snow and ice and cold,\" said Stannis Baratheon."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The ancient enemy. The only enemy that matters.\" He considered Sam again. \"I am told that you and this wildling girl passed beneath the Wall, through some magic gate.\"\n\n\"The B-black Gate,\" Sam stammered. \"Below the Nightfort.\"\n\n\"The Nightfort is the largest and oldest of the castles on the Wall,\" the king said. \"That is where I intend to make my seat, whilst I fight this war. You will show me this gate.\"\n\n\"I,\" said Sam, \"I w-will, if...\" If it is still there. If it will open fora man not of the black. If...\n\n\"You will,\" snapped Stannis. \"I shall tell you when.\"\n\nMaester Aemon smiled. \"Your Grace,\" he said, \"before we go, I wonder if you would do us the great honor of showing us this wondrous blade we have all heard so very much of.\"\n\n\"You want to see Lightbringer? A blind man?\"\n\n\"Sam shall be my eyes.\"\n\nThe king frowned. \"Everyone else has seen the thing, why not a blind man?\" His swordbelt and scabbard hung from a peg near the hearth. He took the belt down and drew the longsword out. Steel scraped against wood and leather, and radiance filled the solar; shimmering, shifting, a dance of gold and orange and red light, all the bright colors of fire.\n\n\"Tell me, Samwell.\" Maester Aemon touched his arm.\n\n\"It glows,\" said Sam, in a hushed voice. \"As if it were on fire. There are no flames, but the steel is yellow and red and orange, all flashing and glimmering, like sunshine on water, but prettier. I wish you could see it, Maester.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I see it now, Sam. A sword full of sunlight. So lovely to behold.\" The old man bowed stiffly. \"Your Grace. My lady. This was most kind of you.\"\n\nWhen King Stannis sheathed the shining sword, the room seemed to grow very dark, despite the sunlight streaming through the window. \"Very well, you've seen it. You may return to your duties now. And remember what I said. Your brothers will chose a Lord Commander tonight, or I shall make them wish they had.\"\n\nMaester Aemon was lost in thought as Sam helped him down the narrow turnpike stair. But as they were crossing the yard, he said, \"I felt no heat. Did you, Sam?\"\n\n\"Heat? From the sword?\" He thought back. \"The air around it was shimmering, the way it does above a hot brazier.\"\n\n\"Yet you felt no heat, did you? And the scabbard that held this sword, it is wood and leather, yes? I heard the sound when His Grace drew out the blade. Was the leather scorched, Sam? Did the wood seem burnt or blackened?\"\n\n\"No,\" Sam admitted. \"Not that I could see.\"\n\nMaester Aemon nodded. Back in his own chambers, he asked Sam to set afire and help him to his chair beside the hearth. \"It is hard to be so old,\" he sighed as he settled onto the cushion. \"And harder still to be so blind. I miss the sun. And books. I miss books most of all.\" Aemon waved a hand. \"I shall have no more need of you till the choosing.\"\n\n\"The choosing... Maester, isn't there something you could do? What the king said of Lord Janos...\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I recall,\" Maester Aemon said, \"but Sam, I am a maester, chained and sworn. My duty is to counsel the Lord Commander, whoever he might be. It would not be proper for me to be seen to favor one contender over another.\"\n\n\"I'm not a maester,\" said Sam. \"Could I do something?\"\n\nAemon turned his blind white eyes toward Sam's face, and smiled softy. \"Why, I don't know, Samwell. Could you?\"\n\nI could, Sam thought. I have to. He had to do it right away, too. If he hesitated he was certain to lose his courage. I am a man of the Night's Watch, he reminded himself as he hurried across the yard. I am. I can do this. There had been a time when he had quaked and squeaked if Lord Mormont so much as looked at him, but that was the old Sam, before the Fist of the First Men and Craster's Keep, before the wights and Coldhands and the Other on his dead horse. He was braver now. Gilly made me braver, he'd told Jon. It was true. It had to be true.\n\nCotter Pyke was the scarier of the two commanders, so Sam went to him first, while his courage was still hot. He found him in the old Shieldhall, dicing with three of his Eastwatch men and a red-headed sergeant who had come from Dragonstone with Stannis.\n\nWhen Sam begged leave to speak with him, though, Pyke barked an order, and the others took the dice and coins and left them.\n\nNo man would ever call Cotter Pyke handsome, though the body under his studded brigantine and roughspun breeches was lean and hard and wiry strong. His eyes were small and close-set, his nose broken, his widow's peak as sharply pointed as the head of a spear. The pox had ravaged his face badly, and the beard he'd grown to hide the scars was thin and scraggly."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sam the Slayer!\" he said, byway of greeting. \"Are you sure you stabbed an Other, and not some child's snow knight?\"\n\nThis isn't starting well. \"It was the dragonglass that killed it, my lord,\" Sam explained feebly.\n\n\"Aye, no doubt. Well, outwith it, Slayer. Did the maester send you tome?\"\n\n\"The maester?\" Sam swallowed. \"I... I just left him, my lord.\" That wasn't truly a lie, but if Pyke chose to read it wrong, it might make him more inclined to listen. Sam took a deep breath and launched into his plea.\n\nPyke cut him off before he'd said twenty words. \"You want me to kneel down and kiss the hem of Mallister's pretty cloak, is that it? I might have known. You lordlings all flock like sheep. Well, tell Aemon that he's wasted your breath and my time. If anyone withdraws it should be Mallister. The man's too bloody old for the job, maybe you ought to go tell him that. We choose him, and we're like to be back herein a year, choosing someone else.\"\n\n\"He's old,\" Sam agreed, \"but he's well ex-experienced.\"\n\n\"At sitting in his tower and fussing over maps, maybe. What does he plan to do, write letters to the wights? He's a knight, well and good, but he's not a fighter, and I don't give a kettle of piss who he unhorsed in some fool tourney fifty years ago. The Halfhand fought all his battles, even an old blind man should see that. And we need a fighter more than ever with this bloody king on top of us. Today it's ruins and empty fields, well and good, but what will His Grace want come the morrow? You think Mallister has the belly to stand up to Stannis Baratheon and that red bitch?\" He laughed. \"I don't.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You won't support him, then?\" said Sam, dismayed.\n\n\"Are you Sam the Slayer or Deaf Dick? No, I won't support him.\" Pyke jabbed a finger at his face. \"Understand this, boy. I don't want the bloody job, and never did. I fight best with a deck beneath me, not a horse, and Castle Black is too far from the sea. But I'll be buggered with a red-hot sword before I turn the Night's Watch over to that preening eagle from the Shadow Tower. And you can run back to the old man and tell him I said so, if he asks.\" He stood. \"Get out of my sight.\"\n\nIt took all the courage Sam had left in him to say, \"W-what if there was someone else? Could yous-support someone else?\"\n\n\"Who? Bowen Marsh? The man counts spoons. Othell's a follower, does what he's told and does it well, but no more'n that. Slynt... well, his men like him, I'll grant you, and it would almost be worth it to stick him down the royal craw and see if Stannis gagged, but no. There's too much of King's Landing in that one. A toad grows wings and thinks he's a bloody dragon.\" Pyke laughed. \"Who does that leave, Hobb? We could pick him, I suppose, only then who's going to boil your mutton, Slayer? You look like a man who likes his bloody mutton.\"\n\nThere was nothing more to say. Defeated, Sam could only stammer out his thanks and take his leave. I will do better with Ser Denys, he tried to tell himself as he walked through the castle. Ser Denys was a knight, highborn and well-spoken, and he had treated Sam most courteously when he'd found him and Gilly on the road. Ser Denys will listen tome, he has to."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The commander of the Shadow Tower had been born beneath the Booming Tower of Seagard, and looked every inch a Mallister. Sable trimmed his collar and accented the sleeves of his black velvet doublet. A silver eagle fastened its claws in the gathered folds of his cloak. His beard was white as snow, his hair was largely gone, and his face was deeply lined, it was true. Yet he still had grace in his movements and teeth in his mouth, and the years had dimmed neither his blue-grey eyes nor his courtesy.\n\n\"My lord of Tarly,\" he said, when his steward brought Sam to him in the Lance, where the Shadow Tower men were staying. \"I am pleased to see that you've recovered from your ordeal. Might I offer you a cup of wine? Your lady mother is a Florent, I recall. One day I must tell you about the time I unhorsed both of your grandfathers in the same tourney. Not today, though, I know we have more pressing concerns. You come from Maester Aemon, to be sure. Does he have counsel to offer me?\"\n\nSam took a sip of wine, and chose his words with care. \"A maester chained and sworn... it would not be proper for him to be seen as having influenced the choice of Lord Commander...\"\n\nThe old knight smiled. \"Which is why he has not come tome himself. Yes, I quite understand, Samwell. Aemon and I are both old men, and wise in such matters. Say what you came to say.\"\n\nThe wine was sweet, and Ser Denys listened to Sam's plea with grave courtesy, unlike Cotter Pyke. But when he was done, the old knight shook his head. \"I agree that it would be a dark day in our history if a king were to name our Lord Commander. This king especially. He is not like to keep his crown for long. But truly, Samwell, it ought to be Pyke who withdraws. I have more support than he does, and I am better suited to the office.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are,\" Sam agreed, \"but Cotter Pyke might serve. It's said he has oft proved himself in battle.\" He did not mean to offend Ser Denys by praising his rival, but how else could he convince him to withdraw?\n\n\"Many of my brothers have proved themselves in battle. It is not enough. Some matters cannot be settled with a battleaxe. Maester Aemon will understand that, though Cotter Pyke does not. The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch is a lord, first and foremost. He must be able to treat with other lords... and with kings as well. He must be a man worthy of respect.\" Ser Denys leaned forward. \"We are the sons of great lords, you and I. We know the importance of birth, blood, and that early training that can ne'er be replaced. I was a squire at twelve, a knight at eighteen, a champion at two-and-twenty. I have been the commander at the Shadow Tower for thirty-three years. Blood, birth, and training have fitted me to deal with kings. Pyke... well, did you hear him this morning, asking if His Grace would wipe his bottom? Samwell, it is not my habit to speak unkindly of my brothers, but let us be frank... the ironborn area race of pirates and thieves, and Cotter Pyke was raping and murdering when he was still half a boy. Maester Harmune reads and writes his letters, and has for years. No, loath as I am to disappoint Maester Aemon, I could not in honor stand aside for Pyke of Eastwatch.\"\n\nThis time Sam was ready. \"Might you for someone else? If it was someone more suitable?\"\n\nSer Denys considered a moment. \"I have never desired the honor for its own sake. At the last choosing, I stepped aside gratefully when Lord Mormont's name was offered, just as I had for Lord Qorgyle at the choosing before that. So long as the Night's Watch remains in good hands, I am content. But Bowen Marsh is not equal to the task, no more than Othell Yarwyck. And this so-called Lord of Harrenhal is a butcher's whelp unjumped by the Lannisters. Small wonder he is venal and corrupt.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's another man,\" Sam blurted out. \"Lord Commander Mormont trusted him. So did Donal Noye and Qhorin Halfhand. Though he's not as highly born as you, he comes from old blood. He was castle-born and castle-raised, and he learned sword and lance from a knight and letters from a maester of the Citadel. His father was a lord, and his brother a king.\"\n\nSer Denys stroked his long white beard. \"Mayhaps,\" he said, after along moment. \"He is very young, but... mayhaps. He might serve, I grant you, though I would be more suitable. I have no doubt of that. I would be the wiser choice.\"\n\nJon said there could be honor in a lie, if it were told for the right reason. Sam said, \"If we do not choose a Lord Commander tonight, King Stannis means to name Cotter Pyke. He said as much to Maester Aemon this morning, after all of you had left.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Ser Denys rose. \"I must think on this. Thank you, Samwell. And give my thanks to Maester Aemon as well.\"\n\nSam was trembling by the time he left the Lance. What have I done? he thought. What have I said? If they caught him in his lie, they would... what? Send me to the Wall? Rip my entrails out? Turn me into a wight? Suddenly it all seemed absurd. How could he be so frightened of Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister, when he had seen a raven eating Small Paul's face?\n\nPyke was not pleased by his return. \"You again? Make it quick, you are starting to annoy me.\"\n\n\"I only need a moment more,\" Sam promised. \"You won't withdraw for Ser Denys, you said, but you might for someone else.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Aid the author, keep the plot going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, betrayal\nAuthor: George R. R. Martin\nTitle: A Storm of Swords\nChapter: 83"
},
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"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tears, tears, tears,\" she sobbed hysterically. \"No need for tears... but that's not what you said in King's Landing. You told me to put the tears in Jon's wine, and I did. For Robert, and for us! And I wrote Catelyn and told her the Lannisters had killed my lord husband, just as you said. That was so clever... you were always clever, I told Father that, I said Petyr's so clever, he'll rise high, he will, he will, and he's sweet and gentle and I have his little baby in my belly... Why did you kiss her? Why? We're together now, we're together after so long, so very long, why would you want to kiss herrrrrr?\"\n\n\"Lysa,\" Petyr sighed, \"after all the storms we've suffered, you should trust me better. I swear, I shall never leave your side again, for as long as we both shall live.\"\n\n\"Truly?\" she asked, weeping. \"Oh, truly?\"\n\n\"Truly. Now unhand the girl and come give me a kiss.\"\n\nLysa threw herself into Littlefinger's arms, sobbing. As they hugged, Sansa crawled from the Moon Door on hands and knees and wrapped her arms around the nearest pillar. She could feel her heart pounding. There was snow in her hair and her right shoe was missing. It must have fallen. She shuddered, and hugged the pillar tighter.\n\nLittlefinger let Lysa sob against his chest fora moment, then put his hands on her arms and kissed her lightly. \"My sweet silly jealous wife,\" he said, chuckling. \"I've only loved one woman, I promise you.\"\n\nLysa Arryn smiled tremulously. \"Only one? Oh, Petyr, do you swear it? Only one?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Only Cat.\" He gave her a short, sharp shove.\n\nLysa stumbled backward, her feet slipping on the wet marble. And then she was gone. She never screamed. For the longest time there was no sound but the wind.\n\nMarillion gasped, \"You... you...\"\n\nThe guards were shouting outside the door, pounding with the butts of their heavy spears. Lord Petyr pulled Sansa to her feet. \"You're not hurt?\" When she shook her head, he said, \"Runlet my guards in, then. Quick now, there's no time to lose. This singer's killed my lady wife.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "EPILOGUE\n\nThe road up to Oldstones went twice around the hill before reaching the summit. Overgrown and stony, it would have been slow going even in the best of times, and last night's snow had left it muddy as well. Snow in autumn in the riverlands, it's unnatural, Merrett thought gloomily. It had not been much of a snow, true; just enough to blanket the ground fora night. Most of it had started melting away as soon as the sun came up. Still, Merrett took it fora bad omen. Between rains, floods, fire, and war, they had lost two harvests and a good part of a third. An early winter would mean famine all across the riverlands. A great many people would go hungry, and some of them would starve. Merrett only hoped he wouldn't be one of them. I may, though. With my luck, I just may. I never did have any luck.\n\nBeneath the castle ruins, the lower slopes of the hill were so thickly forested that half a hundred outlaws could well have been lurking there. They could be watching me even now. Merrett glanced about, and saw nothing but gorse, bracken, thistle, sedge, and blackberry bushes between the pines and grey-green sentinels. Elsewhere skeletal elm and ash and scrub oaks choked the ground like weeds. He saw no outlaws, but that meant little. Outlaws were better at hiding than honest men.\n\nMerrett hated the woods, if truth be told, and he hated outlaws even more. \"Outlaws stole my life,\" he had been known to complain when in his cups. He was too often in his cups, his father said, often and loudly. Too true, he thought ruefully. You needed some sort of distinction in the Twins, else they were liable to forget you were alive, but a reputation as the biggest drinker in the castle had done little to enhance his prospects, he'd found. I once hoped to be the greatest knight whoever couched a lance. The gods took that away from me. Why shouldn't I have a cup of wine from time to time? It helps my headaches. Besides, my wife is a shrew, my father despises me, my children are worthless. What do I have to stay sober for?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was sober now, though. Well, he'd had two horns of ale when he broke his fast, and a small cup of red when he set out, but that was just to keep his head from pounding. Merrett could feel the headache building behind his eyes, and he knew that if he gave it half a chance he would soon feel as if he had a thunderstorm raging between his ears. Sometimes his headaches got so bad that it even hurt too much to weep. Then all he could do was rest on his bed in a darkroom with a damp cloth over his eyes, and curse his luck and the nameless outlaw who had done this to him.\n\nJust thinking about it made him anxious. He could nowise afford a headache now. If I bring Petyr back home safely, all my luck will change. He had the gold, all he needed to do was climb to the top of Oldstones, meet the bloody outlaws in the ruined castle, and make the exchange. A simple ransom. Even he could not muck it up... unless he got a headache, one so bad that it left him unable to ride. He was supposed to beat the ruins by sunset, not weeping in a huddle at the side of the road. Merrett rubbed two fingers against his temple. Once more around the hill, and there I am. When the message had come in and he had stepped forward to offer to carry the ransom, his father had squinted down and said, \"You, Merrett?\" and started laughing through his nose, that hideous heh heh heh laugh of his. Merrett practically had to beg before they'd give him the bloody bag of gold.\n\nSomething moved in the underbrush along the side of the road. Merrett reined up hard and reached for his sword, but it was only a squirrel. \"Stupid,\" he told himself, shoving the sword back in its scabbard without ever having gotten it out. \"Outlaws don't have tails. Bloody hell, Merrett, get hold of yourself.\" His heart was thumping in his chest as if he were some green boy on his first campaign. As if this were the kingswood and it was the old Brotherhood I was going to face, not the lightning lord's sorry lot of brigands. Fora moment he was tempted to trot right back down the hill and find the nearest alehouse. That bag of gold would buy a lot of ale, enough for him to forget all about Petyr Pimple. Let them hang him, he brought this on himself. It's no more than he deserves, wandering off with some bloody camp follower like a stag in rut."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His head had begun to pound; soft now, but he knew it would get worse. Merrett rubbed the bridge of his nose. He really had no right to think so ill of Petyr. I did the same myself when I was his age. In his case all it got him was a pox, but still, he shouldn't condemn. Whores did have charms, especially if you had a face like Petyr's. The poor lad had a wife, to be sure, but she was half the problem. Not only was she twice his age, but she was bedding his brother Walder too, if the talk was true. There was always lots of talk around the Twins, and only a little was ever true, but in this case Merrett believed it. Black Walder was a man who took what he wanted, even his brother's wife. He'd had Edwyn's wife too, that was common knowledge, Fair Walda had been known to slip into his bed from time to time, and some even said he'd known the seventh Lady Freya deal better than he should have. Small wonder he refused to marry. Why buy a cow when there were udders all around begging to be milked?\n\nCursing under his breath, Merrett jammed his heels into his horse's flanks and rode on up the hill. As tempting as it was to drink the gold away, he knew that if he didn't comeback with Petyr Pimple, he had as well not comeback at all.\n\nLord Walder would soon turn two-and-ninety. His ears had started to go, his eyes were almost gone, and his gout was so bad that he had to be carried everywhere. He could not possibly last much longer, all his sons agreed. And when he goes, everything will change, and not for the better. His father was querulous and stubborn, with an iron will and a wasp's tongue, but he did believe in taking care of his own. All of his own, even the ones who had displeased and disappointed him. Even the ones whose names he can't remember. Once he was gone, though..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When Ser Stevron had been heir, that was one thing. The old man had been grooming Stevron for sixty years, and had pounded it into his head that blood was blood. But Stevron had died whilst campaigning with the Young Wolf in the west-\"of waiting, no doubt,\" Lame Lothar had quipped when the raven brought them the news-and his sons and grandsons were a different sort of Frey. Stevron's son Ser Ryman stood to inherit now; a thick-witted, stubborn, greedy man. And after Ryman came his own sons, Edwyn and Black Walder, who were even worse. \"Fortunately,\" Lame Lothar once said, \"they hate each other even more than they hate us.\"\n\nMerrett wasn't certain that was fortunate at all, and for that matter Lothar himself might be more dangerous than either of them. Lord Walder had ordered the slaughter of the Starks at Roslin's wedding, but it had been Lame Lothar who had plotted it outwith Roose Bolton, all the way down to which songs would be played. Lothar was a very amusing fellow to get drunk with, but Merrett would never be so foolish as to turn his back on him. In the Twins, you learned early that only full blood siblings could be trusted, and them not very far.\n\nIt was like to be every son for himself when the old man died, and every daughter as well. The new Lord of the Crossing would doubtless keep on some of his uncles, nephews, and cousins at the Twins, the ones he happened to like or trust, or more likely the ones he thought would prove useful to him. The rest of us he'll shove out to fend for ourselves.\n\nThe prospect worried Merrett more than words could say. He would be forty in less than three years, too old to take up the life of a hedge knight... even if he'd been a knight, which as it happened he wasn't. He had no land, no wealth of his own. He owned the clothes on his back but not much else, not even the horse he was riding. He wasn't clever enough to be a maester, pious enough to be a septon, or savage enough to be a sellsword. The gods gave me no gift but birth, and they stinted me there. What good was it to be the son of a rich and powerful House if you were the ninth son? When you took grandsons and great-grandsons into account, Merrett stood a better chance of being chosen High Septon than he did of inheriting the Twins."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I have no luck, he thought bitterly. I have never had any bloody luck. He was a big man, broad around the chest and shoulders if only of middling height. In the last ten years he had grown soft and fleshy, he knew, but when he'd been younger Merrett had been almost as robust as Ser Hosteen, his eldest full brother, who was commonly regarded as the strongest of Lord Walder Frey's brood. As a boy he'd been packed off to Crakehall to serve his mother's family as a page. When old Lord Sumner had made him a squire, everyone had assumed he would be Ser Merrett in no more than a few years, but the outlaws of the Kingswood Brotherhood had pissed on those plans. While his fellow squire Jaime Lannister was covering himself in glory, Merrett had first caught the pox from a camp follower, then managed to get captured by a woman, the one called the White Fawn. Lord Sumner had ransomed him back from the outlaws, but in the very next fight he'd been felled by a blow from a mace that had broken his helm and left him insensible fora fortnight. Everyone gave him up for dead, they told him later.\n\nMerrett hadn't died, but his fighting days were done. Even the lightest blow to his head brought on blinding pain and reduced him to tears. Under these circumstances knighthood was out of the question, Lord Sumner told him, not unkindly. He was sent back to the Twins to face Lord Walder's poisonous disdain.\n\nAfter that, Merrett's luck had only grown worse. His father had managed to make a good marriage for him, somehow; hewed one of Lord Darry's daughters, back when the Darrys stood high in King Aerys's favor. But it seemed as if he no sooner had deflowered his bride than Aerys lost his throne. Unlike the Freys, the Darrys had been prominent Targaryen loyalists, which cost them half their lands, most of their wealth, and almost all their power. As for his lady wife, she found him a great disappointment from the first, and insisted on popping out nothing but girls for years; three live ones, a stillbirth, and one that died in infancy before she finally produced a son. His eldest daughter had turned out to be a slut, his second a glutton. When Ami was caught in the stables with no fewer than three grooms, he'd been forced to marry her off to a bloody hedge knight. That situation could not possibly get any worse, he'd thought... until Ser Pate decided he could win renown by defeating Ser Gregor Clegane. Ami had come running back a widow, to Merrett's dismay and the undoubted delight of every stablehand in the Twins."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Merrett had dared to hope that his luck was finally changing when Roose Bolton chose towed his Walda instead of one of her slimmer, comelier cousins. The Bolton alliance was important for House Frey and his daughter had helped secure it; he thought that must surely count for something. The old man had soon disabused him. \"He picked her because she's fat,\" Lord Walder said. \"You think Bolton gave a mummer's fart that she was your whelp? Think he sat about thinking, \"Heh, Merrett Muttonhead, that's the very man I need fora good-father\"? Your Walda's a sow in silk, that's why he picked her, and I'm not like to thank you for it. We'd have had the same alliance at half the price if your little porkling put down her spoon from time to time.\"\n\nThe final humiliation had been delivered with a smile, when Lame Lothar had summoned him to discuss his role in Roslin's wedding. \"We must each play our part, according to our gifts,\" his half-brother told him. \"You shall have one task and one task only, Merrett, but I believe you are well suited to it. I want you to see to it that Greatjon Umber is so bloody drunk that he can hardly stand, let alone fight.\"\n\nAnd even that I failed at. He'd cozened the huge northman into drinking enough wine to kill any three normal men, yet after Roslin had been bedded the Greatjon still managed to snatch the sword of the first man to accost him and break his arm in the snatching. It had taken eight of them to get him into chains, and the effort had left two men wounded, one dead, and poor old Ser Leslyn Haigh short half an ear. When he couldn't fight with his hands any longer, Umber had fought with his teeth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Merrett paused a moment and closed his eyes. His head was throbbing like that bloody drum they'd played at the wedding, and fora moment it was all he could do to stay in the saddle. I have to goon, he told himself. If he could bring back Petyr Pimple, surely it would put him in Ser Ryman's good graces. Petyr might be a whisker on the hapless side, but he wasn't as cold as Edwyn, nor as hot as Black Walder. The boy will be grateful for my part, and his father will see that I'm loyal, a man worth having about.\n\nBut only if he was thereby sunset with the gold. Merrett glanced at the sky. Right on time. He needed something to steady his hands. He pulled up the waterskin hung from his saddle, uncorked it, and took along swallow. The wine was thick and sweet, so dark it was almost black, but gods it tasted good.\n\nThe curtain wall of Oldstones had once encircled the brow of the hill like the crown on a king's head. Only the foundation remained, and a few waist-high piles of crumbling stone spotted with lichen. Merrett rode along the line of the wall until he came to the place where the gatehouse would have stood. The ruins were more extensive here, and he had to dismount to lead his palfrey through them. In the west, the sun had vanished behind a bank of low clouds. Gorse and bracken covered the slopes, and once inside the vanished walls the weeds were chest high. Merrett loosened his sword in its scabbard and looked about warily, but saw no outlaws. Could I have come on the wrong day? He stopped and rubbed his temples with his thumbs, but that did nothing to ease the pressure behind his eyes. Seven bloody hells..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "From somewhere deep within the castle, faint music came drifting through the trees.\n\nMerrett found himself shivering, despite his cloak. He pulled open his waterskin and had another drink of wine. I could just get back on my horse, ride to Oldtown, and drink the gold away. No good ever came from dealing with outlaws. That vile little bitch Wenda had burned a fawn into the cheek of his arse while she had him captive. No wonder his wife despised him. I have to go through with this. Petyr Pimple might be Lord of the Crossing one day, Edwyn has no sons and Black Walder's only got bastards. Petyr will remember who came to get him. He took another swallow, corked the skin up, and led his palfrey through broken stones, gorse, and thin wind-whipped trees, following the sounds to what had been the castle ward.\n\nFallen leaves lay thick upon the ground, like soldiers after some great slaughter. A man in patched, faded greens was sitting crosslegged atop a weathered stone sepulcher, fingering the strings of a woodharp. The music was soft and sad. Merrett knew the song. High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts...\n\n\"Get off there,\" Merrett said. \"You're sitting on a king.\"\n\n\"Old Tristifer don't mind my bony arse. The Hammer of Justice, they called him. Been along while since he heard any new songs.\" The outlaw hopped down. Trim and slim, he had a narrow face and foxy features, but his mouth was so wide that his smile seemed to touch his ears. A few strands of thin brown hair were blowing across his brow. He pushed them back with his freehand and said, \"Do you remember me, my lord?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No.\" Merrett frowned. \"Why would I?\"\n\n\"I sang at your daughter's wedding. And passing well, I thought. That Pate she married was a cousin. We're all cousins in Sevenstreams. Didn't stop him from turning niggard when it was time to pay me.\" He shrugged. \"Why is it your lord father never has me play at the Twins? Don't I make enough noise for his lordship? He likes it loud, I have been hearing.\"\n\n\"You bring the gold?\" asked a harsher voice, behind him.\n\nMerrett's throat was dry. Bloody outlaws, always hiding in the bushes. It had been the same in the kingswood. you'd think you'd caught five of them, and ten more would spring from nowhere.\n\nWhen he turned, they were all around him; an ill-favored gaggle of leathery old men and smooth-cheeked lads younger than Petyr Pimple, the lot of them clad in roughspun rags, boiled leather, and bits of dead men's armor. There was one woman with them, bundled up in a hooded cloak three times too big for her. Merrett was too flustered to count them, but there seemed to be a dozen at the least, maybe a score.\n\n\"I asked a question.\" The speaker was a big bearded man with crooked green teeth and a broken nose; taller than Merrett, though not so heavy in the belly. A halfhelm covered his head, a patched yellow cloak his broad shoulders. \"Where's our gold?\"\n\n\"In my saddlebag. A hundred golden dragons.\" Merrett cleared his throat. \"You'll get it when I see that Petyr-\"\n\nA squat one-eyed outlaw strode forward before he could finish, reached into the saddlebag bold as you please, and found the sack. Merrett started to grab him, then thought better of it. The outlaw opened the drawstring, removed a coin, and bit it. \"Tastes right.\" He hefted the sack. \"Feels right too.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They're going to take the gold and keep Petyr too, Merrett thought in sudden panic. \"That's the whole ransom. All you asked for.\" His palms were sweating. He wiped them on his breeches. \"Which one of you is Beric Dondarrion?\" Dondarrion had been a lord before he turned outlaw, he might still be a man of honor.\n\n\"Why, that would be me,\" said the one-eyed man.\n\n\"You're a bloody liar, Jack,\" said the big bearded man in the yellow cloak. \"It's my turn to be Lord Beric.\"\n\n\"Does that mean I have to be Thoros?\" The singer laughed. \"My lord, sad to say, Lord Beric was needed elsewhere. The times are troubled, and there are many battles to fight. But we'll sort you out just as he would, have no fear.\"\n\nMerrett had plenty of fear. His head was pounding too. Much more of this and he'd be sobbing. \"You have your gold,\" he said. \"Give me my nephew, and I'll begone.\" Petyr was actually more a great half-nephew, but there was no need to go into that.\n\n\"He's in the godswood,\" said the man in the yellow cloak. \"We'll take you to him. Notch, you hold his horse.\"\n\nMerrett handed over the bridle reluctantly. He did not see what other choice he had. \"My water skin,\" he heard himself say. \"A swallow of wine, to settle my-\"\n\n\"We don't drink with your sort,\" yellow cloak said curtly. \"It's this way. Follow me.\"\n\nLeaves crunched beneath their heels, and every step sent a spike of pain through Merrett's temple. They walked in silence, the wind gusting around them. The last light of the setting sun was in his eyes as he clambered over the mossy hummocks that were all that remained of the keep. Behind was the godswood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Petyr Pimple was hanging from the limb of an oak, a noose tight around his long thin neck."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His eyes bulged from a blackface, staring down at Merrett accusingly. You came too late, they seemed to say. But he hadn't. He hadn't! He had come when they told him. \"You killed him,\" he croaked.\n\n\"Sharp as a blade, this one,\" said the one-eyed man.\n\nAn aurochs was thundering through Merrett's head. Mother have mercy, he thought. \"I brought the gold.\"\n\n\"That was good of you,\" said the singer amiably. \"We'll see that it's put to good use.\"\n\nMerrett turned away from Petyr. He could taste the bile in the back of his throat. \"You... you had no right.\"\n\n\"We had a rope,\" said yellow cloak. \"That's right enough.\"\n\nTwo of the outlaws seized Merrett's arms and bound them tight behind his back. He was too deep in shock to struggle. \"No,\" was all he could manage. \"I only came to ransom Petyr. You said if you had the gold by sunset he wouldn't be harmed...\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the singer, \"you've got us there, my lord. That was a lie of sorts, as it happens.\"\n\nThe one-eyed outlaw came forward with along coil of hempen rope. He looped one end around Merrett's neck, pulled it tight, and tied a hard knot under his ear. The other end he threw over the limb of the oak. The big man in the yellow cloak caught it.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Merrett knew how stupid that sounded, but he could not believe what was happening, even then. \"You'd never dare hang a Frey.\"\n\nYellow cloak laughed. \"That other one, the pimply boy, he said the same thing.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He doesn't mean it."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He cannot mean it. \"My father will pay you. I'm worth a good ransom, more than Petyr, twice as much.\"\n\nThe singer sighed. \"Lord Walder might behalf-blind and gouty, but he's not so stupid as to snap at the same bait twice. Next time he'll send a hundred swords instead of a hundred dragons, I fear.\"\n\n\"He will!\" Merrett tried to sound stern, but his voice betrayed him. \"He'll send a thousand swords, and kill you all.\"\n\n\"He has to catch us first.\" The singer glanced up at poor Petyr. \"And he can't hang us twice, now can he?\" He drew a melancholy air from the strings of his woodharp. \"Here now, don't soil yourself. All you need to do is answer me a question, and I'll tell them to let you go.\"\n\nMerrett would tell them anything if it meant his life. \"What do you want to know? I'll tell you true, I swear it.\"\n\nThe outlaw gave him an encouraging smile. \"Well, as it happens, we're looking fora dog that ran away.\"\n\n\"A dog?\" Merrett was lost. \"What kind of dog?\"\n\n\"He answers to the name Sandor Clegane. Thoros says he was making for the Twins. We found the ferrymen who took him across the Trident, and the poor sod he robbed on the kingsroad. Did you see him at the wedding, perchance?\"\n\n\"The Red Wedding?\" Merrett's skull felt as if it were about to split, but he did his best to recall. There had been so much confusion, but surely someone would have mentioned Joffrey's dog sniffing round the Twins. \"He wasn't in the castle. Not at the main feast... he might have been at the bastard feast, or in the camps, but... no, someone would have said...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"He would have had a child with him,\" said the singer."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A skinny girl, about ten. Or perhaps a boy the same age.\"\n\n\"I don't think so,\" said Merrett. \"Not that I knew.\"\n\n\"No? Ah, that's a pity. Well, up you go.\"\n\n\"No,\" Merrett squealed loudly. \"No, don't, I gave you your answer, you said you'd let me go.\"\n\n\"Seems tome that what I said was I'd tell them to let you go.\" The singer looked at yellow cloak. \"Lem, let him go.\"\n\n\"Go bugger yourself,\" the big outlaw replied brusquely.\n\nThe singer gave Merrett a helpless shrug and began to play, \"The Day They Hanged Black Robin.\"\n\n\"Please.\" The last of Merrett's courage was running down his leg. \"I've done you no harm. I brought the gold, the way you said. I answered your question. I have children.\"\n\n\"That Young Wolf never will,\" said the one-eyed outlaw.\n\nMerrett could hardly think for the pounding in his head. \"He shamed us, the whole realm was laughing, we had to cleanse the stain on our honor.\" His father had said all that and more.\n\n\"Maybe so. What do a bunch o'bloody peasants know about a lord's honor?\" Yellow cloak wrapped the end of the rope around his hand three times. \"We know some about murder, though.\"\n\n\"Not murder.\" His voice was shrill. \"It was vengeance, we had aright to our vengeance. It was war. Aegon, we called him Jinglebell, a poor lackwit never hurt anyone, Lady Stark cut his throat. We lost half a hundred men in the camps. Ser Garse Goodbrook, Kyra's husband, and Ser Tytos, Jared's son... someone smashed his head in with an axe... Stark's direwolf killed four of our wolfhounds and tore the kennelmaster's arm off his shoulder, even after we'd filled him full of quarrels...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So you sewed his head on Robb Stark's neck after both o\" them were dead,\" said yellow cloak.\n\n\"My father did that. All I did was drink. You wouldn't kill a man for drinking.\" Merrett remembered something then, something that might be the saving of him. \"They say Lord Beric always gives a man atrial, that he won't kill a man unless something's proved against him. You can't prove anything against me. The Red Wedding was my father's work, and Ryman's and Lord Bolton's. Lothar rigged the tents to collapse and put the crossbowmen in the gallery with the musicians, Bastard Walder led the attack on the camps... they're the ones you want, not me, I only drank some wine... you have no witness.\"\n\n\"As it happens, you're wrong there.\" The singer turned to the hooded woman. \"Milady?\"\n\nThe outlaws parted as she came forward, saying no word. When she lowered her hood, something tightened inside Merrett's chest, and fora moment he could not breathe. No. No, I saw her die. She was dead fora day and night before they stripped her naked and threw her body in the river. Raymund opened her throat from ear to ear. She was dead.\n\nHer cloak and collar hid the gash his brother's blade had made, but her face was even worse than he remembered. The flesh had gone pudding soft in the water and turned the color of curdled milk. Half her hair was gone and the rest had turned as white and brittle as a crone's. Beneath her ravaged scalp, her face was shredded skin and black blood where she had raked herself with her nails. But her eyes were the most terrible thing. Her eyes saw him, and they hated."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She don't speak,\" said the big man in the yellow cloak. \"You bloody bastards cut her throat too deep for that. But she remembers.\" He turned to the dead woman and said, \"What do you say, m'lady? Was he part of it?\"\n\nLady Catelyn's eyes never left him. She nodded.\n\nMerrett Frey opened his mouth to plead, but the noose choked off his words. His feet left the ground, the rope cutting deep into the soft flesh beneath his chin. Up into the air he jerked, kicking and twisting, up and up and up."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 3"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cheren Horse Clan\n\nJin-daughter of Uldin, King of the Cheren. Award of the Ben-Elim, raised in Drassil. Betrothed to Bleda of the Sirak Clan.\n\nUldin-King of the Cheren and father to Jin.\n\nGerel-Jin's oathsworn guard.\n\nSirak Horse Clan\n\nBleda-son of Erdene, Queen of the Sirak. Award of the Ben-Elim, raised in Drassil. Betrothed to Jin of the Cheren Clan.\n\nEllac-A one-handed warrior of the Sirak. Bleda's guard.\n\nErdene-Queen of the Sirak. Mother of Bleda.\n\nMirim-oathsworn guard of Bleda.\n\nRuga-oathsworn guard of Bleda.\n\nTuld-oathsworn guard of Bleda.\n\nYul-first-sword of Erdene.\n\nDrem-a trapper of the Desolation. Son of Olin.\n\nHildith-member of Kergard's Assembly. Owner of a mead-hall.\n\nAlcyon-a giant who resides in Drassil.\n\nAphra-sister of Riv. A White-Wing of Drassil, captain of a hundred.\n\nAvi-Fia's son.\n\nBalur One-Eye-father to Ethlinn, Queen of the Giants. He resides in Drassil.\n\nErt-veteran sword master of Drassil. Trainer of the White-Wings.\n\nEthlinn-Queen of the Giants. Daughter of Balur One-Eye.\n\nFia-a White-Wing of Drassil."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jost-a White-Wing of Drassil.\n\nLorina-a White-Wing of Drassil and captain of a hundred.\n\nRiv-sister to Aphra. A training White-Wing.\n\nSorch-a White-Wing of Drassil.\n\nVald-a White-Wing of Drassil.\n\nByrne-the High Captain of Dun Seren. A descendant of Cywen and Veradis.\n\nCullen-a young warrior of Dun Seren. A descendant of Corban and Coralen.\n\nCure-title for the captain of Dun Seren's healing school.\n\nFen-one of Keld's wolven-hounds.\n\nFlick-a talking crow of Dun Seren.\n\nGrack-one of Stepor's wolven-hounds.\n\nHammer-a giant bear.\n\nKill-title for the captain of Dun Seren's warrior school.\n\nKeld-a warrior and huntsman of Dun Seren.\n\nRab-a white talking crow of Dun Seren.\n\nRalla-one of Stepor's wolven-hounds.\n\nShar-Jehar warrior.\n\nStepor-a warrior and huntsman of Dun Seren.\n\nTain-the crow master of Dun Seren. Son of Alcyon.\n\nUtul-Jehar warrior. Captain of Balara's garrison.\n\nVaran-a giant of Dun Seren.\n\nHadran-loyal to Kol. Riv's guardian.\n\nKamael-from the garrison of Ripa, supporter of Sariel.\n\nKol-one of the Ben-Elim of Drassil.\n\nMeical-once High Captain of the Ben-Elim. Now frozen in starstone metal, sealed with Asroth in Drassil."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sariel-Lord of the Ben-Elim garrison at Ripa.\n\nArn-acolyte of Gulla, from Fritha's crew.\n\nAsroth-Lord of the Kadoshim. Frozen within starstone metal in the Great Hall of Drassil.\n\nClaw-Gunil's giant bear.\n\nElise-acolyte of Gulla, daughter of Arn.\n\nGulla-High Captain of the Kadoshim.\n\nMorn-a half-breed Kadoshim. Daughter of Gulla.\n\nFritha-priestess and captain of the Kadoshim's covens.\n\nGunil-a giant, brother of Varan."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Dark blood drank he, from the demon welling\"\n\nVölsunga Saga"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Year 138 of the Age of Lore, Wolven's Moon\n\nDrem looked up from his horse's steady gait. Through the stark branches above he glimpsed the sun sinking into the mountains ahead, a pale glow behind snow cloud and leafless branches. Ina matter of heartbeats twilight was settling upon them like a shroud.\n\nWe must stop soon, else the horses risk snaring a leg.\n\nHe glanced to his right, saw Cullen riding with his cloak pulled high, face hidden in shadow. Ahead of them, Keld looked as if he had no thought for stopping, the scarred huntsman loping through the trees much like his wolven-hound, Fen.\n\nGrief drives him, and hate.\n\nAnd fear, if he is human.\n\nDrem blinked, trying to dispel the image of Gulla the Kadoshim, twitching and jerking upon the blood-soaked table in the mine, then rising transformed, teeth long and gleaming, eyes red as coals.\n\nIt felt like a dream, no, a nightmare, even though it had been less than a day and night since it happened. Too-vivid memories of the battle at the mine leaped out in Drem's mind like rabid beasts: images of Gulla sinking his teeth deep into the throat of one of his acolytes, of feral things, part man, part beast, snarling, clawing, of winged half-breeds screaming their malice, of Fritha, beautiful and cold as the ice-laden forest, black sword in her fist. And Sig the giantess, friend to his father.\n\nFriend tome.\n\nAnd now she is dead. Because of me.\n\nA restless anxiety was growing within him. So much had happened in so short a time, giving him little chance to feel anything; instead he had simply reacted, mostly just trying to stay alive. Now, though, they had been travelling all night and most of the day, and he had had time to think."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So much change. I wish I was with Da, that we were trapping together, out in the Bonefells, just the two of us. And now he's gone as well.\n\nAs dangerous as that lifestyle had been, it was familiar to Drem, an old cloak, and it had fitted him well. All of this was so different, so new. He felt agitated, like when his legs ached and he just needed to getup and walk around, except that he couldn't do anything hereto help himself; there was noway he could return to the familiar that felt so comforting to him.\n\nHis hand crept to his neck, looking for the steady reassurance of his pulse.\n\nOne, two, three, he began to count.\n\n\"Camp,\" Keld said as he emerged from the darkness, raising an arm and smashing a hole in a frozen stream with the butt of his spear.\n\nA good spot, Drem thought, noting the spread of trees about them, the stream, huge boulders to the right, sheltering them from the cold wind that hissed out of the Bonefells, as well as providing a measure of protection from predators.\n\nOn two legs or four.\n\nIn silence they set to making camp. Cullen took the horses, hobbling them, removing saddles and rubbing them down. Drem found a spot fora fire and, drawing his hand-axe from his belt, began chopping through the thick rind of ice, then scooping away the softer snow until he reached the frozen ground beneath. He gathered stones, chopped kindling from a dead lightning-blasted oak and prepared a small fire. Before he set to lighting it, he trimmed thin branches from a willow beside the stream, spent awhile weaving them into a latticed fence, then staked it along one side of the fire-pit he'd dug. A screen against any eyes that might be following them from the east."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some tinder from a pouch at his belt, flint and striking iron for sparks, some cold breath upon it and then fragile flames were clawing in the snow, hissing and hungry.\n\nA shaking of the ground made Drem lookup, one hand reaching for the bone-hilted seax at his belt. A shadow the size of a boulder shifted within the trees, but Drem's grip relaxed as Hammer, the giant bear, lumbered into their small clearing.\n\nHammer was Sig's battle-bear and had borne them from last night's chaos, carrying Drem, Keld and Cullen away, crashing through tree and shrub, no thought or time for careful steps or hiding their passage, just a driving knowledge that they had to escape, to put as much distance as possible between them and Gulla.\n\nHammer had run to exhaustion, bringing them back to Drem's hold in less than half the time it would have taken them on horseback. There they had dismounted, removed the saddle, harness and battered mail shirt from Hammer's body, packing it away in paniers and saddlebags. They'd tended to the wounded bear and fed her some foul concoction that Keld said was called brot, then led Hammer and fresh horses into the darkness, knowing they could not wait until dawn.\n\nThey had agreed to head west, using the cover of the forest to screen them from eyes in the skies, avoiding the town of Kergard, and then to turn south when they reached the western rim of the Bonefells. Drem had voiced his worry for the townspeople of Kergard but knew there was little they could do to help them. No one in the town had believed him before, and besides, he did not know if there was anyone in Kergard left to save. To Drem's horror, scores of the townsfolk had been at the mine, secret acolytes of the Kadoshim, including Ulf the tanner, a man Drem had once thought of as a friend."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "So, they had committed themselves to speed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pursuit from the mine was likely, and they had to use every moment given them to reach Dun Seren and the Order of the Bright Star.\n\nDrem had led to begin with, his knowledge of the terrain making him the obvious choice to steer them through the darkness. With the rising of a pale sun they had mounted their horses and Keld had taken point, his wolven-hound Fen scouting ahead. Hammer had followed them, grumbling doleful growls, taking herself deeper into the woods, though never quite out of sound or sight.\n\nShe feels grief for Sig, just like Cullen and Keld. More, maybe. They were rider and mount for more years than Cullen has drawn breath. Probably longer than Keld has lived, too.\n\nKeld strode to the bear, unbuckled the saddlebags she was carrying, then checked over her wounds and patted her neck. She rubbed her huge head against the huntsman, almost knocking him from his feet.\n\n\"Ah, lass, we miss her, too,\" Keld muttered, tugging on one of the bear's ears. She seemed to like it, a mournful rumble escaping her throat.\n\nFen loped into the clearing, eyes glowing in the firelight. The slate-greyhound dropped a hare at Keld's feet.\n\n\"A hot meal for supper, then. Thank the stars, I've had enough of brot,\" Cullen said, his obvious pleasure at the thought infectious.\n\nKeld skinned and gutted the hare and set it on a spit over the fire, fat dripping and hissing. A flapping of wings came from above as a white crow descended from the branches, landing on Cullen's shoulder.\n\n\"I was wondering where you were, Rab,\" Cullen said to the crow."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Rab watching, protecting friends,\" Rab squawked, then hopped from Cullen's shoulder to the pile of guts and offal that had been stripped from the hare. He pecked noisily.\n\n\"But the love of slime and foul things drew you back to us,\" Cullen observed.\n\n\"All must eat,\" the bird croaked as it swallowed an eyeball.\n\n\"Fair point,\" Cullen said.\n\nThe dead can't eat, Drem thought, his mind filling with his father, Olin, and Sig, grief a wave rising within him, whipped high by the winds of exhaustion. His body ached, everywhere, a thousand cuts and bruises from the fight at the mine, and from before that. He raised a hand to his throat, rubbed at the scar where he'd been hung from a tree in his courtyard, twice. A memory of Fritha's face. Sweet, kind Fritha, with her blue eyes and freckles, a face he had trusted. Thought he'd begun to love.\n\nHe didn't feel like that now.\n\nI hate her, will see her dead for what she's done.\n\nA deep anger uncoiled in his chest, buried deep beneath the pain of loss and exhaustion of the last few ten-nights, distant but never gone. Much of the anger was aimed at himself, at his stupidity for staying, for the choices he'd made, choices that had led to his father's death, the loss of the Starstone Sword, the death of Sig.\n\nThe enormity of it all threatened to engulf him.\n\n\"Drem, catch,\" a voice called out, snapping him from his reverie. Cullen had thrown something to him. Instinctively, Drem caught it, along bundle. It was his sword, still in its scabbard and belt."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "My father's sword, mine now. He looked at the worn leather hilt and scabbard, drew it a little, stared at the four-pointed star carved into the blade, just below where it met the cross-guard. My da, a warrior of the Order of the Bright Star.\n\nSo much of his world had changed in such a short time; he was still reeling upon the shifting ground of his life.\n\n\"Come on,\" Cullen said, drawing his own sword from the scabbard at his hip.\n\n\"What, are they near?\" Drem asked, panic whispering in his belly as his eyes searched the shadows.\n\n\"No, lad,\" Cullen said with a grin, though he was younger than Drem. \"The sword dance, while our supper's cooking.\" He paused, looked more serious fora moment. \"I've known grief,\" he said, \"know what it can do to you, here.\" He tapped a finger to his temple. \"I can see it in you now. The sword dance always helped me, mayhap it'll help you, too.\"\n\nThe sword dance. Traditional training for the Order. Drem had rarely touched a sword in his twenty-one summers of life. While a trapper's life required being intimately accustomed to the use of spear, knife and axe in order to survive in the wild, a sword was a warrior's weapon, used to fight other warriors. There weren't many warriors to be found in the great wild of the Desolation and Bonefells. Only four or five moons had passed since Olin had first introduced Drem to a sword and begun to teach him the rudiments of its use. Since then Drem had killed with it. A terrible knowledge, one that he felt deep in his bones, an aching sadness that weighed upon him. Drem hated to fight, he disliked the use of violence. But these were violent times, and as his da had said, better to be the one that lives than the one that dies."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With a sigh, Drem followed Cullen to a clear space. Keld looked up from the fire-pit to watch them.\n\n\"Stooping falcon,\" Cullen said, raising his sword two-handed above his head.\n\nDrem drew his own blade, dropping the scabbard in the snow, sending long, distended shadows stretching across the glade.\n\nStooping falcon, he heard his father's voice whisper in his head.\n\nDrem licked grease from his fingers; the weight of a hot meal in his belly spread some warmth through him. He blew along breath out, savouring the feeling. Beside him Cullen smacked his lips and Keld threw a bone to Fen, who plucked it from the air and crunched it into splinters.\n\n\"I can't believe Sig's gone,\" Cullen whispered, staring at the flames. Drem saw a tear cutting a line through the dirt and grime on Cullen's face. \"All my life she's seemed immortal, solid as the stone and timber of Dun Seren. She was a legend even before joining with my great-grandfather to found the Order.\" He bowed his head.\n\nKeld grunted something as he sat with a whetstone, five or six knives laid out before him, as well as three hand-axes and his sword.\n\n\"Poor Sig,\" Rab cawed mournfully from a branch above them.\n\n\"I'll take Gulla's head and drink mead from his boiled skull while I stand upon a mound of his dead half-breeds and acolytes,\" Cullen snarled. Drem was learning that Cullen was not one to hide his feelings, whatever they were.\n\n\"Rab will peck Gulla's other eye out,\" Rab cawed."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen smiled up at the white crow.\n\n\"Aye, lad, Sig was the best of us,\" Keld said quietly. \"More than that, she was my friend, saved my life more times than I can remember.\" He paused and spat on the fire. \"She'll be sorely missed.\" A silence fell amongst them, filled with the grate of whetstone on steel, the crackling of flames, the creak and scrape of branches. \"You'll have your vengeance, my friend,\" Keld said, eyes fixed on the flames of the fire. Drem didn't think that the huntsman was talking to him or Cullen.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" Drem whispered.\n\nKeld and Cullen just stared at Drem.\n\n\"For sending my message to Dun Seren, bringing both of you and Sig here.\" He put his head in his hands. \"I wish it had been me that died, not Sig. Wish I'd left when my da said we should run, wish I'd never laid eyes on Fritha. If not for me, my father would still be alive, Sig, too.\"\n\n\"You didn't kill Olin or Sig,\" Keld grunted. \"It was that winged bastard Gulla and his brood.\"\n\n\"But if-\"\n\n\"No,\" Keld snapped. \"Everything's easy looking back at the path you've trod, and it's a fool's game to try.\" He looked up from the blade in his lap, eyes fixing Drem. There was something wild in his gaze, untamed. \"You've no guilt or shame in this, Drem. Think on this: what would be happening now if we hadn't witnessed that foul ceremony last night?\"\n\nDrem frowned, thinking about that. \"Gulla would be transformed, still. A Revenant, Fritha called him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They wouldn't be needing to spend half a day burying their dead, or torching them, and that's a fact,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Cullen and Keld are mighty warriors,\" Rab muttered. \"And Drem,\" the crow added, bobbing his head at Drem.\n\nIs that crow trying not to hurt my feelings?\n\n\"Aye, true enough,\" Keld agreed. \"Gulla turned some of his acolytes into the same corruption as him,\" he said thoughtfully. \"This is part of the Kadoshim's plan, part of the Long War. So, I'll ask you again, Drem, what would be happening now?\"\n\n\"He'd be raising his army,\" Drem told them. \"Sig said the Kadoshim are too few to win the war against the Ben-Elim, that they need numbers, warriors.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Keld said, \"and their acolytes are not enough. They've been experimenting at that mine, using dark magic to make those Feral beast-men, and now these new creatures, Revenants. Once Gulla has what he needs, he'll fall upon the Banished Lands like a plague.\"\n\nDrem shook his head. Part of him had known this, but in the madness of battle, the grief at losing Sig and the following exhaustion of flight, the weight of it had not settled in his mind. It was starting to make sense now.\n\n\"Without you, we would not have known anything about it,\" Cullen said, squeezing Drem's shoulder.\n\n\"Aye. Long have we searched for Gulla, High Captain of the Kadoshim. He is second only to Asroth, and you led us to him. You've given mankind a chance,\" Keld said. \"Course, they may still catch us and leave us bleeding out in the snow, or those Feral things might end up gnawing on our bones and sucking out our marrows, though I'll take a few of them with us before I'll let that happen.\" Keld patted his axe lovingly, face twisted in a maniacal grin. \"But at least we have a chance now, and that's because of you. Olin would be proud.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem felt a flare of warmth in his chest at that, though edged with the grief that every memory of his da brought with it.\n\n\"Though he wouldn't be so proud of that,\" Keld said, nodding at Drem's seax.\n\n\"What?\" Drem said, putting a hand on the bone-hilted knife at his belt.\n\n\"Oh, dear Elyon above,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Can you even take it from its scabbard?\" Keld asked.\n\nDrem tried, but it was stuck. He looked closer, saw blood had crusted black on the scabbard, thick where the bone hilt met leather. He tugged and twisted the seax free. It was a big knife, more like a short-sword, as long as his forearm, the blade thick and single-edged, curving on the sharp side to a tapered point.\n\n\"Ach,\" Keld said with a disgusted twist of his lips. \"You should have a ten-night on latrine duty at Dun Seren for that.\"\n\nShamefaced, Drem set to scouring the blade clean, taking a pumice stone and oil from a pouch on his belt. There were new notches in the blade, testament to the battle at the mine. Blood had congealed in the pits of the steel. Drem scraped it away, scrubbing hard with the pumice.\n\n\"Can I see that?\" Cullen asked beside him.\n\nDrem passed him the seax. The hilt was worn and smooth from Drem's grip, a perfect fit for his fist.\n\nCullen hefted the weapon, noting the weight, gave it a twirl in his fist, firelight gleaming red. Then he looked closer at the blade, with Keld leaning in as well. Cullen passed the seax to the huntsman."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did Olin forge this?\" Keld asked.\n\n\"Aye, he did,\" Drem said. He remembered his da in the smithy at Kergard during their first winter in the Desolation. That had been five years ago.\n\nKeld drew his thumb along the blade's edge, blood welled. He let a few drops land on the flat and smeared them in. \"Nochtann,\" he said, and the steel of the blade seemed to shimmer and ripple.\n\nDrem blinked; carved runes were winking into life along the blade. He leaned forwards, staring.\n\n\"Where did they come from?\" Drem muttered.\n\n\"They've always been there.\" Cullen smiled.\n\n\"Aye, lad,\" Keld said. \"Olin put them there, when he forged it.\"\n\n\"How? Why have I never seen them?\"\n\n\"We learn more than swordcraft at Dun Seren,\" Keld said with a wink.\n\n\"I haven't, yet,\" Cullen said sullenly.\n\nDrem shook his head. He'd had a lotto come to terms with over the last couple of moons, foremost of which was the fact that there was much more to his da than he had ever known. It still hurt that Olin had kept so much hidden from Drem, but he knew it had been to protect him. Only when he had helped his father forge the Starstone Sword had he seen the depth of Olin's mystery; he'd carved runes and cast spells of power over the new-forged blade. It had been quite a shock.\n\n\"I've learned my letters, but I can't read that,\" Drem said. \"I don't understand. What language is it? What does it say?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It's the first tongue,\" Keld said, \"spoken once by giants and men alike, but now you'd call it Giantish."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It says dilis cosantoir. Faithful protector.\"\n\nMy da tried to protect me his whole life. And even now, from the grave, his protective hand lingers.\n\nDrem felt his eyes mist and, fora moment, almost sensed that his father was sitting beside him at the campfire.\n\n\"They are more than words,\" Keld said. \"That blade will never break, and I'm guessing it's never needed much sharpening.\" He gave the seax back to Drem.\n\n\"Now that you mention it, no, it doesn't,\" Drem said. He looked at the seax with a sense of wonder, and as he watched, the runes faded and disappeared. He cast his whetstone along its edge a few times, but that was all it needed, then set to cleaning the scabbard of dried blood. After that he worked on the hand-axe at his belt, the misery that had settled upon him during the day's journey a little eased by Keld and Cullen's words, and by the thought of his da.\n\nThe three men settled into a companionable silence. Hammer the giant bear sat and then lay down. Within heartbeats she was snoring like an avalanche in the Bonefells.\n\n\"How long until we reach Dun Seren?\" Drem asked.\n\nKeld rubbed a handover his newly shaved head, a ruse both the huntsman and Cullen had used to infiltrate the acolytes at the starstone mine.\n\n\"Took us two ten-nights to get here,\" he muttered, \"but it'll take us longer going back, using the forests and Bonefells to hide us from anyone tracking.\"\n\nThe thought of Kadoshim and Feral beast-men sent a shiver through Drem. Last night's fight had a dreamlike quality to it, parts of it blurred and ethereal, other parts too vivid and blood-bright. He shook the thoughts away, fingers reaching to his neck, searching for the drumbeat of his heart, which always gave him a sense of calm."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Whatever it takes, we must get back to Dun Seren,\" Keld said. \"Our High Captain Byrne must hear of all that's happened. Gulla, Revenants, Feral beasts, a Starstone Sword.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Cullen agreed. \"And she must be told about Gunil.\"\n\n\"Gunil?\" Drem said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Keld grunted. \"The giant that fought for Gulla. He belonged to the Order once, was brother to Varan, the giant lord of the Jotun Clan. Varan was killed over sixteen years ago and Gunil was thought to have been slain, too.\" Keld was silent a moment, lost in thought. \"Gunil and Sig were... close.\"\n\nAnd Sig fought him at the mine. That must have hurt her. Drem felt the spark of a cold anger in his gut, another wrong that needed to be put right. He put Gunil on the list of those he would make answer for their deeds.\n\n\"Why does he fight for Gulla?\" Drem asked.\n\nKeld shrugged. \"He was always... guarded, secretive. But I never suspected him of being a traitor.\" He grated his teeth and patted his axe. \"It's something he'll have to answer to my axe for.\"\n\n\"We have to reach Dun Seren,\" Drem said. \"We cannot fail.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Keld agreed. \"I've been thinking the same thing. Rab, I want you to set wing for Dun Seren. Tell Byrne what has happened, about Sig, and what we've seen. And tell her to send a few swords out to meet us. We'll probably need all the help we can get.\"\n\n\"Rab can't go,\" the crow squawked, sounding horrified. \"Rab watching you, Rab protecting you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And a fine job you've been doing,\" Cullen said. \"But it's more important that Byrne knows what's happening.\"\n\n\"Rab know.\" The bird's head bobbed. \"But Rab not want to leave friends.\"\n\n\"Comeback to us when you've spoken to Byrne,\" Cullen said. \"Lead those she sends to help us.\"\n\n\"Yes, Rab will bring help,\" the crow cawed, sounding somewhat appeased.\n\n\"Good,\" Keld said. \"Leave in the morning, as soon as the sunrises.\"\n\nDrem woke to the gentle sensation of snow falling upon his face. He sat up, pushing off one of the thick cloaks he'd packed when they had stopped briefly at his hold. Dawn was settling about them, darkness shifting to grey. Hammer was gone, and Keld's bed mat was empty, the huntsman nowhere to be seen, but Cullen was curled and snoring beneath a bearskin cloak. Rab was roosting beside the red-haired warrior, his head tucked under awing. As Drem stood and stretched, a myriad of aches clamouring for his attention, the crow poked his head out from under his wing and studied Drem with a bright, intelligent eye.\n\n\"Rab remember Olin,\" the bird said. \"Olin kind to Rab.\"\n\nDrem blinked at that; the thought of his father talking to crows was a strange one.\n\nThough it shouldn't be, not after all I've learned of him.\n\n\"He was kind tome, too,\" Drem said.\n\nKeld appeared from the trees, his wolven-hound a blurred shadow deeper within the forest.\n\n\"No sight or smell of any pursuit. Still, we should be away.\" Keld nudged Cullen with his boot and tutted. \"He's a good lad to have at your back in a scrap, but he'd sleep and snore his way through the world's ending.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm wide awake,\" Cullen's muffled voice came from beneath his cloak. \"Just resting my eyes.\"\n\n\"Rab, you should be for Dun Seren, now.\"\n\n\"Rab go search first, make sure friends are safe from Kadoshim.\"\n\n\"Aye, goon then.\"\n\nThey broke camp as Rab flew into the canopy above, were saddled and ready to go by the time the white crow returned to them.\n\n\"Rab see nothing behind,\" the bird cawed.\n\n\"Good,\" Keld said. \"Be on your way, then.\" He looked into the trees behind them, sniffed. \"And fly fast.\"\n\nCullen sat up and threw the crow something-a remnant saved from last night's meal. The crow caught it with a snap of his beak.\n\n\"Farewell, Rab's friends,\" the crow squawked as he flapped into the air, spiralled higher and disappeared through the branches above, the sky a snow-glare beyond.\n\n\"Let's be off, then,\" Keld said.\n\nDrem stamped his feet and rubbed his gloved hands together, then climbed into his saddle. With a clink of harness the three men set off into the snow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv sped through the sky, wings beating, wind ripping tears from her eyes, the joy of it bubbling in her chest. She passed through a bank of cloud, whooping as she overtook a flock of geese.\n\nI am free up here, away from the world and its turmoil. Here all is so simple and clean. A moment's thought, and her wings were snapping in tight to her body and suddenly she was looping and diving, away from the clouds and the dull gleam of the sun, down, towards an endless canopy of green. She flew back, towards a range of hills cloaked beneath the immeasurable green of Forn Forest, ancient trees rising up to meet her. A little closer and a gap in the forest became visible, a road growing clearer, upon it small figures on horseback riding towards her.\n\nHer sharp eyes counted a dozen riders, amongst them the distinctive shape of her friend, Jost, tall and thin, and not the greatest figure on horseback.\n\nHe looks like a sack of grain tied to the saddle. Riv grinned.\n\nShe spotted another rider galloping well ahead of the others, a league at least, and Riv's grin widened.\n\nBleda.\n\nFlying towards him, lower and lower until she skimmed the road, racing her own shadow, the trees of Forn Forest rearing tall either side of her. Bleda called out to her, but his words were lost in the roar of the wind. With a twist of her wings she decelerated and turned, diving into the treeline, the world immediately shifting to shadow. Twisting and turning, spiralling through winter-sparse branches, the muscles in her back aching as she demanded more from her new-found wings, the sharp sensation of scratches opening along her shoulders, one across her cheek. She didn't care, lost in the pounding of her heartbeat, and then with a burst of leaves and twigs and laughter she exploded back onto the road, right in front of Bleda."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was an expert horseman and reined in, his knees moving, squeezing, bringing his horse out of a gallop as if it were a manoeuvre he practised a dozen times each day before highsun, but even though Riv didn't hear the words she saw the curses spilling from his lips, which made her laugh all the louder.\n\nShe hovered above Bleda, grinning as he frowned up at her, his sweat-streaked horse blowing great plumes of air in the cold.\n\n\"You should not fly so far ahead, it is not safe,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"You should ride faster, then,\" Riv answered, still grinning.\n\n\"Huh.\" Bleda snorted and leaned in his saddle, patting his mount's shoulder. \"My mare is fast, but she is not the wind.\"\n\n\"I am, though,\" Riv said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Bleda agreed, \"you areas fast as the wind.\" He smiled then, his normally impassive face yielding to the assault of her smiles. \"How does it feel to fly so fast? The gallop, it sets my heart free, so to fly as you can...\" He shook his head with envy.\n\n\"It is wonderful,\" she agreed, a pulse of her wings as she descended, feet touching gently upon the ground.\n\n\"You are doing much better,\" Bleda commented. \"I remember the first time, you almost broke your knees.\" He laughed at the memory, swaying in his saddle.\n\nIt had hurt; Riv had returned from her first flight, ecstatic from the experience, but she had misjudged the speed of her landing and ended up a crumpled heap on the floor, spikes of pain jolting through her legs. Still, she had had much to come to terms within little time. All her life she had just wanted to be a warrior, to join the elite White-Wings of Drassil and serve the Ben-Elim and their holy cause. With the coming of her wings all had changed, not least the fact that she must be a half-breed, which meant there was a death sentence hanging over her head. None of that dampened the joy of flying, though."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I can understand the joy you feel, and the freedom,\" Bleda said, straightening and wiping a tear of laughter from his eye."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But you should still stay closer. You are not the only one in the Banished Lands with wings. And you have enemies.\"\n\n\"I do.\" Memories of Kol's scarred, handsome face, blond hair bound tight, white wings arching behind him, slaying Israfil, the Lord Protector of the Ben-Elim. Then turning his blade upon Riv's mamas she tried to protect her. Riv could still see her mam's lifeless eyes, glazed and vacant, felt a physical pain in her chest as the image wormed its way through her.\n\nI swear I'll take his head.\n\n\"Even if I flew closer, what could you do, if I were attacked by Ben-Elim in the air?\" Riv shrugged.\n\nBleda patted the double-curved bow that satin a leather case strapped to his saddle, fingertips brushing the feathers of a bundle of arrows in a quiver harnessed beside the bow.\n\n\"I can do a lot,\" he said, no trace of pride or braggart about him, just a flat statement of the truth.\n\nRiv didn't doubt it, having seen him inaction.\n\n\"I shall fly closer, then,\" Riv said with ashy smile and dip of her head. \"But, in the meantime, I'm hungry, so let's eat something while we wait for the others.\"\n\n\"They were right behind me,\" Bleda said, frowning as he twisted in his saddle to look back along the road that snaked its way through the hills.\n\n\"You were over a league ahead of them.\" Riv snorted. \"They'll be awhile yet.\" She took the bridle of Bleda's mount and led them to a patch of grass on the roadside shaded by towering trees, the ground thick with purple heather and thyme. They rooted through Bleda's saddlebags and sat with a loaf of bread, around of cheese and a skin of cold spring water. A companionable silence settled between them, Riv taking along draught of water and watching Bleda eat."
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"value": "He broke a small piece of bread from the loaf, set it to one side and pulled a little eating knife from his belt, cutting a slice of cheese and placing it neatly on the bread, then with obvious pleasure ate it. She smiled to herself, thinking how once not so long ago she had thought of Bleda as cold-faced and cold-hearted, his dark skin and almond-shaped eyes making him seem almost a different species. Now she hardly noticed any of that, except to think how pleasant he was to look at.\n\n\"What?\" Bleda said, feeling Riv's gaze.\n\n\"You look like you're enjoying that.\" She shivered and with a rustle of feathers wrapped her wings about her.\n\nThese things have more than one use, she thought, though they do take a bit of getting used to. She shifted her weight, releasing one wingtip that had been stuck beneath her backside.\n\n\"It's good,\" Bleda said. \"Here, try some.\" He went through the same ritual and gave it to Riv.\n\n\"Mmmm,\" Riv said as the cheese and bread crumbled in her mouth. She leaned back, shifted awing and rested an elbow in a patch of purple-flowered thyme. A gentle, earthy smell wafted up.\n\n\"I used to hate the forest,\" Bleda said, looking around. \"It could not be more different from my home, the sea of grass. Once this felt suffocating tome.\" He looked from the trees to Riv. \"Now, I am starting to like it.\"\n\n\"You are so different here,\" Riv said. \"Different to when you were at Drassil.\"\n\n\"My cold-face, you mean?\" Bleda asked.\n\n\"Aye. And other things.\"\n\nBleda looked at her in silence along moment, then drew a deep breath."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My Clan are trained to mask our emotions from before we can speak,\" he said, \"but that is not all that we are. The face of stone is for our enemies. No, that is not quite right; it is for anyone who is not kin, anyone who cannot be wholly trusted. We are taught to keep this guarded-\" he placed a handover his heart-\"taught to appear strong, to show no weakness. But there is more to the Sirak than the cold-face.\"\n\n\"I see that now,\" Riv said.\n\n\"We area passionate people,\" he continued, \"and amongst my kin I laughed much, until...\" He fell silent, eyes distant. Riv knew what he was thinking about, that dread day when his brother and sister had been slaughtered, and he taken from his Clan by the Ben-Elim, to be award as surety against his Clan's rebelliousness.\n\nBleda took in along, shuddering breath and shook his head, looked back at Riv.\n\n\"I have been at Drassil for so long, a stranger in a strange land. But look at me now; I cannot seem to stop smiling,\" Bleda said. \"Even after all that has happened.\" He looked at Riv with sympathy in his eyes. \"Amongst those we trust, my Clan will smile and laugh, cry and fight.\" Bleda paused, thoughtful. \"But it is not a gift for all to see. It is a privilege, earned by trust.\"\n\n\"You used to annoy me,\" Riv confessed, smiling sheepishly. \"How nothing would bother or excite you. It's not normal.\"\n\n\"You used to annoy me.\" Bleda grinned back. \"How everything seemed to bother and excite you. That's not normal, either.\"\n\nThey both laughed then, warm and genuine."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you,\" Riv said and impulsively plucked a flower of purple thyme, thrusting it at Bleda.\n\n\"What for?\" he asked.\n\n\"For saving my life. In Drassil.\"\n\nBleda's expression turned serious. \"You're my friend,\" he said, gazing solemnly at her. \"And...\" They sat like that along moment, the silence lengthening, Riv feeling that Bleda was about to say something else. The world about Riv faded, shrinking down to Bleda's face, the gleam in his dark eyes, the curve of his lips. For one timeless moment she felt the urge to lean forwards and kiss him. A jolt of shock at that thought, a tingle of excitement mingled with fear.\n\nCrows squawked, a raucous explosion as a handful burst from branches looming over Riv and Bleda.\n\nBleda looked over his shoulder, at the road.\n\n\"They will be here soon,\" Riv said and Bleda nodded.\n\n\"And?\" Riv prompted. She wanted to know what he had been about to say.\n\n\"And...\" His expression shifted, a softening around the mouth and a crease at the eyes. \"This world would be a darker place without you, Riven ap Lorin,\" he said, using her full name for the first time. \"And definitely more boring.\" He took the flower of thyme and inspected it between thumb and forefinger, twirling it. \"Ouch,\" he said. Then smiled. \"It's like you. Prickly.\"\n\nThe sound of hooves grew loud, and then riders came into view, a dozen others coming up to them and reining in. Two young men were at the front, their short-cropped hair and black cuirasses with white wings embossed upon them marking them out as White-Wings-and Riv's friends. The tall and skinny Jost bumped along in his saddle, with the bull-like Vald beside him, his broad and muscled bulk as dissimilar to his friend as a mastiff to a lurcher."
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"value": "From the corner of her eye, Riv saw Bleda carefully put the flower she'd given him into a pocket in his cloak.\n\nTen of the twelve riders were Bleda's warrior-guard from the Sirak Clan of far-off Arcona, oath-bound to protect their young prince with their lives. They were of a similar appearance to Bleda, all dark-skinned with fur-lined deel tunics and baggy breeches bound with strips of cloth from ankle to knee. Curved bows like Bleda's hung from their saddles, and short curved swords were strapped across their backs. Where Bleda's black hair was long and unruly, they all had shaven heads apart from a single thick-bound braid. Until recently Bleda had always had close-cropped hair, as had Riv, emulating the appearance of the White-Wings, Drassil's elite warriors. Riv brushed a handover her own fair hair. It had grown since the day she had collapsed in the warrior field as her wings had begun to grow, and now it was almost as long as Bleda's. As she thought about it, she was surprised to realize that she had no urge or desire to cut it back to the White-Wings uniform style.\n\nThe Ben-Elim control me no longer.\n\n\"Finally-thank Elyon above,\" Vald said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Jost agreed wholeheartedly. He stood up in his stirrups and groaned, rubbing his backside. \"Arrgh, but my arse feels like Balur One-Eye's pounded on it with his war-hammer. Why do you have to fly so damn far?\"\n\nRiv just grinned at him.\n\nOne of the Sirak riders guided his mount to loom over Riv and Bleda, an older man, grey-haired and looking like a wind-blasted tree, skin dark and cracked with deep lines. Ellac, the captain of Bleda's honour guard. His reins were wrapped around a leather gauntlet strapped to the stump of his wrist, his right hand lost in some long-ago battle. He was frowning."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Riv felt her smile wilt; something about the old man was intimidating."
},
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"value": "A glance at Bleda and she saw his cold-face was back in place.\n\n\"You should not fly so far out of our range,\" Ellac said to Riv, his tone flat, as if he were stating an uncontested truth.\n\n\"I was just telling her that,\" Bleda said.\n\nThanks a lot, Riv thought.\n\n\"And you should not ride so far ahead of the rest of us.\" Ellac turned his flat gaze upon Bleda.\n\n\"I just told Bleda that same thing,\" Riv said.\n\nGive as thou receive, Riv intoned silently from Elyon's Lore.\n\nBleda's mouth twitched.\n\n\"You should not disregard your kin so,\" Ellac said to Bleda, holding his gaze, the hint of humour in Bleda's face nowhere to be seen now. He hung his head.\n\n\"The blame is mine,\" Riv said, a pulse from her wings as they spread wide helping her to rise effortlessly to her feet.\n\n\"Not yours alone,\" Ellac said. He sucked in a deep breath. \"It is over a ten-night since you awoke,\" he said to Riv, \"and closer to a moon has passed since Kol slew Israfil. The world is changing, and we are still here.\" He looked up at the silent forest about them, branches soughing in a cold wind, crows cawing from the shadows of Forn. \"When you awoke, you said we would make things right.\"\n\n\"I did,\" Riv said, remembering that moment, the rage coursing through her at the memory of her mam's death, of Kol's murderous rebellion. \"We will.\"\n\n\"When? How?\" Ellac said bluntly.\n\n\"Soon,\" Riv snarled and burst into the air, wings beating powerfully, the blast of it rocking Ellac in his saddle. She rose quickly into the sky, a tight spiral."
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"value": "\"No, not again,\" she heard Jost groan.\n\n\"Back to Fia's cabin,\" Riv shouted down to them, and even as she sped into the wide sky she felt a weight settle upon her shoulders.\n\n\"I will make things right,\" she snarled at the birds and clouds.\n\nI just wish I knew how.\n\nFia's cottage came into sight, a wisp of smoke guiding Riv long before she saw the slight thinning of trees that marked the old woodsman's cabin. Her flight home had not been a good one, in her head. Ellac's prodding had set her to thinking about the future, but also about the past. A myriad of questions swirled through her mind, all of them impossible to answer.\n\nWho is my father?\n\nHer mam and sister had always told Riv that her father's name was Lorin, that he was a White-Wing warrior who had served under Dalmae's hundred. That he had died in battle during a campaign in the south, before Riv was born.\n\nBut that must have been a lie. My father was Ben-Elim. My mam lied tome.\n\nShe felt abloom of rage at that thought, born of hurt, but frustrated and shame-tinged as well. Frustrated that she could never ask her mam the truth of it, and ashamed for feeling such anger towards her mother, who had died trying to protect her.\n\nBut she lied tome.\n\nDid Aphra know? Perhaps, she was no bairn when I was born, already seventeen summers and a warrior in the White-Wings herself. Has she lied tome my whole life, too?\n\nRiv pushed that thought away. All her life she had idolized her sister, respected her as the pinnacle of what she dreamed of becoming: a warrior, a leader, wise, respected and loved by all within her command."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Aphra, my sister, where are you now?"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Did you fight Kol? Are you languishing in a dungeon, or is your head on a spike? Do you need me?\n\nA glance over her shoulder as she swept into her descent showed Bleda and the others riding close behind her.\n\nRiv landed in a swirl of fallen leaves and forest litter, stood therein silence as the leaves settled about her.\n\nA timber cabin sat there, half-wrapped in ivy, and about her were scores of small, stone-built cairns, the burial ground of her kin, of the countless half-breeds born during the last hundred years to Kol and the other Ben-Elim loyal to him. A terrible secret silenced by death.\n\nSilenced by murder.\n\nAnd that is what should have happened tome. My mam must have kept my birth hidden, somehow, or I would have been executed and buried alongside these little ones.\n\nWhen Riv had first seen the child-sized cairns she had thought the deaths had happened naturally, during birth. Fia had told her differently: that the Ben-Elim insisted on their offspring being left to die, their dirty little secrets hidden beneath cairns of stones.\n\nThe injustice of it set red spots of rage dancing before her eyes. With a deep breath, she mastered it, mostly.\n\nFia strode out onto the wooden porch and raised a hand in greeting. She was tall and fair-haired, and also a White-Wing, weapon-wise and as tough as they came, second in command to Aphra, Riv's sister. She held a baby close to her chest, a boy, and he was the reason that Fia was here, why she had left the White-Wings and was hiding out herein the wild snarl of Forn Forest.\n\nBecause that baby in her arms is a half-breed, just like me, and Fia has chosen life for him, not death and a cold stone grave."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv looked around her, taking in the cabin and moss-covered graves.\n\nHow many have come hereon Kol's orders, to kill the seed he or his comrades have sown in so many bellies? Fia was just one more in along list. Her baby is supposed to be in a hole in the ground by now.\n\nRiv smiled at Fia, proud of her courage and strength to defy the Ben-Elim. That was no small task fora White-Wing of Drassil. The Ben-Elim were considered all-wise and powerful, treated almost like gods, respected and adored. Not so long ago the thought of defying them would have felt inconceivable to Riv, a terrible crime.\n\nI don't feel like that anymore.\n\nThe thud of hooves as Bleda and the others cantered into the glade.\n\n\"It's time to talk,\" Riv said to Fia as the dozen riders dismounted.\n\n\"We cannot stay here forever,\" Ellac said.\n\nRiv, Bleda, Fia, Jost, Vald and Ellac were sitting upon logs in a loose circle between the cabin and the cairns. Bleda's Sirak guards were either tending to the horses or lurking in the shadows, ever vigilant.\n\n\"We are safe here,\" Fia said.\n\n\"How can you be sure?\" Ellac asked. \"If you are here, then surely the Ben-Elim must know of it.\"\n\n\"I have told you before,\" Fia said impatiently. \"The Ben-Elim do not know of this place. They are too high and mighty to wish to know the details of what happens here, or even where here is. They only tell us to leave Drassil before any sign of our babies show, and to return when...\" She glanced at the small graves."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"So how did you know to come here, then?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ellac said.\n\n\"It is a secret amongst us White-Wings. The ones who...\"\n\n\"Consort with Ben-Elim,\" Ellac finished for her.\n\nThat is why Aphra told Bleda to bring me here, Riv thought. A secret place, known only to her and a handful of others.\n\nBut what if Aphra is being put to the question... tortured?\n\n\"Aye,\" Fia nodded curtly.\n\n\"Huh,\" Ellac grunted. \"Even so, we cannot stay here forever.\" His eyes fixed on Riv.\n\n\"I know,\" Riv muttered.\n\n\"Away from here history is being made; the world is changing.\"\n\nFor the worst, I don't doubt.\n\n\"I said I would make things right,\" Riv said, and she meant it, her words rising on a swell of anger.\n\n\"But what does that even mean?\" Jost asked. \"What is right?\"\n\n\"And once you've figured that out, how do we do it?\" Vald put in.\n\nThose are the questions I've been asking myself, a thousand times a day.\n\n\"It seems tome that you should bethinking more on how you are going to survive the next moon,\" Ellac said. When Riv didn't answer, he continued, \"I am old and have no use for long words and fine-flowered sentences. I will speak the truth as I see it.\"\n\n\"I've gathered that,\" Riv grunted. \"Goon, then.\"\n\n\"We are too few to fight the Ben-Elim. And I am thinking you will find it hard to be making new friends anywhere within the boundaries of the Land of the Faithful. The Lore of Elyon-the Lore that you have lived by, and that rules this land-declares you an abomination, fit only for the executioner's axe. Am I wrong?\""
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"value": "An abomination. Riv felt a chill shiver through her-part shame that not so long ago she would readily have called for the execution of any Ben-Elim or Kadoshim half-breed. She had believed Elyon's Lore unquestioningly.\n\nAnd now I find that I am one of those half-breeds. Am Ian abomination? Do I deserve to be slaughtered like a feast-bull? Is my blood polluted, corrupted?\n\n\"Careful.\" Vald growled, resting a hand upon the hilt of his short-sword. \"That's my friend you're calling an abomination.\"\n\n\"Are you an idiot?\" Ellac snapped back, staring flatly at Vald. \"I am not calling her that. Your Book of Elyon calls her that.\" He paused, looked from Vald to Riv. \"A person is made by their heart and their wits.\" He touched his one hand to his chest and then to his temple. \"And by the deeds that they do. Their choices. Not whether they have pale skin or dark skin, wings or no wings. One hand or two.\" A twitch of a smile threatened to crack his cold-face. He looked Riv up and down. \"I like your wings, maybe even wish I had some of my own.\"\n\nRiv found herself liking Old Ellac.\n\n\"You are right,\" Fia said, \"Riv is named as an abomination by Elyon's Lore, as is my son.\" She hugged her baby more tightly to her chest.\n\n\"So we are surrounded by a thousand leagues filled with those who would see you dead,\" Ellac said.\n\n\"Sounds about right,\" Riv acknowledged.\n\n\"We could take you to Arcona,\" Ellac said. \"The Sirak would give you safe harbour.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv looked at Bleda and he nodded.\n\nThis is his idea. Bleda must have talked of it to Ellac. They would take me to their homeland, put me under the protection of their Clan. They must know that would start a war. We were all there when the Ben-Elim crushed the Sirak, putting their heel upon the neck of Bleda's people. Riv felt a rush of emotion, that Bleda would risk so much for her, for their friendship. And Ellac obeys his wish. A loyal shieldman indeed.\n\n\"What, and invite a war with the Ben-Elim?\" Riv snorted. \"We all remember how that ended last time.\"\n\n\"We have learned from the past,\" Ellac said. \"We will not be so easily defeated next time.\"\n\nNext time. Does he know something I don't?\n\nRiv sucked in along breath, thinking over his words.\n\n\"I could not do that. Would not,\" she said. \"Win or lose in a war against the Ben-Elim, many of your kin would die. They will not die for me. I'll not have that on my shoulders, too.\"\n\nWhat should I do? All my life I have obeyed orders, followed where I've been led, my heart's desire to be a White-Wing, to do the bidding of Elyon's Lore and the Ben-Elim. Following, obeying, is so much easier than choosing, than determining what is right.\n\nWhat should I do?\n\nShe felt a frustrated anger bubbling, wanted to scream with it, but settled for grinding her teeth instead.\n\nWhat are my options? To run, to Arcona or somewhere else, to live a life in hiding? And what of my friends, of Bleda, Vald and Jost? Would they run with me? Should I let them? Wouldn't that be condemning them to a lifetime of misery? Should I choose to go back to Kol, swallow my pride and ask his forgiveness for the sake of my friends. Perhaps he has changed, now he is safe from Israfil's judgement."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv's mind was filled with an image of her mother lying in the dirt a handspan from Riv, blood trickling from her mouth, eyes empty, Kol standing over her, his blade red.\n\n\"No,\" Riv snarled, all thoughts of running, hiding or begging forgiveness evaporating in the flames of her anger. \"I will not run, I will not cower in hiding here, and I will not crawl back to Kol. He slew my mother.\" The long years of obedience to Elyon's Lore and the Ben-Elim were snuffed out by one deed. And suddenly it all fell into place, the answer clear as her friends before her.\n\nKol must die.\n\n\"Kol is a poison that must be cutout. I'm going to kill him, and then I'll see what has changed with Israfil's death.\" She stood, a ripple of her wings, as if she intended to go and carryout her words then and there.\n\nAnd there is another reason I must go back to Drassil. To find Aphra, to save her, if she still lives, and if I can.\n\nAnd to ask her if she knows who my father is.\n\nShe looked at her friends sitting around her. \"I'm not asking you to join me. I don't want you to; the only death I wanton my hands is Kol's.\"\n\nJost and Vald shared a look. Riv saw on their faces what was going through their minds: the ties of friendship, conflicting loyalties tugging indifferent directions.\n\nThey have spent their whole lives dreaming of becoming White-Wings, just like me. The thought of striking one of the Ben-Elim, openly talking about killing them, it would have been unthinkable a moon ago. And they have much less to lose than I. They don't have wings, will not be spat upon and executed as an abomination."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her gaze shifted to Bleda, who was sat staring at the ground.\n\nHe is award of the Ben-Elim, held as surety for his Clan's obedience. It may already be too late for him, by his act of killing Adonai, but there is still a chance that he could make things right with the Ben-Elim and avoid dragging his people into a war they could not win.\n\nI will go alone.\n\nBleda stood, eyes meeting hers.\n\n\"I'm coming with you.\"\n\n\"No,\" Riv said. \"It is too dangerous.\"\n\nBleda blinked at that, a look of pain momentarily sweeping aside his cold-face, as if Riv had slapped him.\n\n\"I am not afraid,\" he said.\n\n\"I don't think you are,\" Riv said, \"it is I who am afraid. I fear for you. For all of you. I will not have your deaths on my conscience. I will do this alone.\"\n\n\"You do not have the exclusive right of vengeance,\" Bleda said. \"Kol slew my brother and sister, threw their heads at my feet.\" He closed his eyes a moment. \"Even if you were not my friend, we have a common enemy in Kol. We are bound by that.\"\n\n\"And don't think we'd just let you go flying off into danger without us,\" Jost said, rising alongside Bleda.\n\n\"Aye. We are closer than kin,\" Vald said. \"Riv, the winged shieldmaiden. You've guarded my back more times than I can count.\"\n\nVald and Jost stood, a statement.\n\n\"I've no love for Kol,\" Fia said, standing with them. \"He would have had me murder my bairn and bury him here.\""
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I follow my prince,\" Ellac said, though he did not stand.\n\nRiv stared at them all, emotions swirling through her like a winter storm. Love, fear, relief, worry.\n\nFootfalls thudded in the forest litter and one of Bleda's guards appeared from the shadows.\n\n\"People approach us,\" he hissed, an arrow loosely nocked at his bow. \"One has left them, is coming this way. A woman, a White-Wing.\"\n\nA woman.\n\nThey all stood, Riv staring at the Sirak warrior. Fia burst into motion, running to the cabin.\n\n\"Shall I kill her?\" the Sirak asked Bleda.\n\n\"No,\" Riv hissed, fear and hope flickering in her belly. Bleda gestured for the warrior to hold.\n\nRiv waited a score of breaths, then a score more, tense as a bowstring.\n\nNow another figure was stepping from the shadows, a woman, short-cropped dark hair, wrapped in a bearskin cloak, beneath it a black cuirass with white wings embossed upon it.\n\n\"Aphra. Thank Elyon you live,\" Riv said, taking a few steps towards her sister.\n\nSomething in Aphra's eyes made Riv stop.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" Aphra said.\n\nAnd then shadows swept across the glade, the sound of beating wings, and Ben-Elim were swooping from the sky."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha stared at the blood on her hands.\n\nShe was sitting at the end of a pier, feet dangling, the slate-grey waters of Starstone Lake lapping beneath her boots. A sword rested across her knees, its hilt plain and leather-bound, sweat-stained, the blade a dull black beneath the gore crusted upon it.\n\nSnow was falling, gentle as a sigh, flakes settling upon her stained hands. She watched as the snowflakes melted, fascinated as the congealed mess on her palm softened and leaked into each snowflake, spreading like a dark poison through pure white veins.\n\n\"Blood on the snow,\" Fritha whispered.\n\nA memory of screams filled her head, terror and pain, of shouting and cries for help. A tumbling cascade of memories racked her and she screwed her eyes shut, but still saw her newborn daughter's face looking up at her, pale and blood-spattered, eyes glazing. Fritha groaned and hunched over, rocking, clasping the sword in her lap as if it were the fragile, lifeless bundle she had cradled on that dread day.\n\nThe day her life had changed.\n\n\"No,\" she snarled, and forced herself to sit straight and still. With a grimace, she pushed the memory back into the dark places of her mind. She ran a hand across her head, the stubble-growth of her shaved hair rough on her palm. With the edge of her snow-damp cloak, she scrubbed frenetically at the blood on the blade of the sword upon her lap, as if she were attempting to scour and erase that unspeakable moment from her memory.\n\nIt didn't work. Nothing ever worked.\n\nHeavy footsteps on the wooden quay sent tremors through Fritha's body. They grew louder and stopped behind her."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Gulla calls for you,\" a voice said, deep and rumbling.\n\nFritha ceased her scrubbing, and with a deep, shuddering breath she sheathed the sword, then stood slowly and turned to face the giant, Gunil.\n\nHe towered over her, head and shoulders larger than the tallest man, amass of leather and fur, a war-hammer slung across one shoulder. He bore the scars of last night's battle: along, scabbing cut across his angular forehead and numerous rents in his leather armour. One shoulder was bandaged, his left arm slumped, fresh blood still seeping into the linen. It was a grievous wound, Fritha knew, for she had tended it, cleaned and packed it with honey and yarrow, then seared it with a white-hot knife. Sig the giantess, warrior and champion of the Order of the Bright Star, had given Gunil the wound, a spear cast that would have killed him had it been half a handspan lower.\n\n\"How is it?\" Fritha asked.\n\n\"A wound,\" Gunil grated, as if it were only a scratch, not a hole almost the size of Fritha's fist. \"I live.\" The giant shrugged, a ripple of muscle. Fora heartbeat his eyes flared, a hint of pain-tinged madness glimmering deep within, suggesting at a wildness that scared even Fritha, but then it was gone.\n\n\"Gulla,\" Gunil repeated to her.\n\nFritha nodded, pulled her bearskin cloak tighter about her shoulders and strode past him, boots crunching on the shingle beach as she made her way towards the mining complex built on the lake's shore.\n\nDawn was recently come, a pale gleam behind thick cloud that blanketed the sky. The ground was muffled in snow, to Fritha's right a row of open-fronted, barn-like buildings ranged in a line. The sound of hammering and sawing echoed. To her left a great pyre of heaped driftwood. A body lay upon the pile, a figure stood beside it, broad and squat, leathery wings furled tight across a muscled back. It was Morn, half-breed daughter of Gulla, new Lord of the Kadoshim."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha's eyes lingered on the creature of two worlds: part human, part Kadoshim. Her dark hair was shaved short to her scalp, just as Fritha's and the secret many that followed the Kadoshim. Morn's head was bowed, but Fritha could seethe streaks that tears had channelled through the blood and grime thick upon her face. Her brother, Ulfang, lay upon the piled wood, his wings wrapped around him, a sword resting upon his chest. He had been slain during the fighting last night, by Drem. Many died last night, including Sig. Fritha felt a twist in her belly at the thought of the giant, a measure of pride that her hand had dealt Sig her deathblow.\n\nSig, vaunted champion of the Bright Star, just food for crows now, because of me.\n\nFritha had stared into Sig's eyes as she'd slowly thrust her blade deep, seen the pain, the flutter of life as it had left the giant. But the death had not satisfied Fritha as she had hoped it would; it had done little to fill the gaping hole inside her that screamed to be slaked with death and torment. Perhaps it was the way the giant had died that had marred Fritha's pleasure-not begging or screaming. Sig's last words had been a defiance, even if they were little more than a whispered breath upon her lips.\n\n\"Truth and courage,\" Fritha repeated to herself, then spat on the snow as if the very words tasted foul.\n\nAll part of the Great Lie.\n\nMorn thrust a flaming torch into the pyre, the falling snow hissed and steamed as tongues of fire crackled and writhed. Smoke billowed, in heartbeats the stench of burning wood and flesh mingled, swirling about the lakeshore, and Morn lifted her head and howled her grief to the snow-laden sky."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 7"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha's eyes lingered on the creature of two worlds: part human, part Kadoshim. Her dark hair was shaved short to her scalp, just as Fritha's and the secret many that followed the Kadoshim. Morn's head was bowed, but Fritha could seethe streaks that tears had channelled through the blood and grime thick upon her face. Her brother, Ulfang, lay upon the piled wood, his wings wrapped around him, a sword resting upon his chest. He had been slain during the fighting last night, by Drem. Many died last night, including Sig. Fritha felt a twist in her belly at the thought of the giant, a measure of pride that her hand had dealt Sig her deathblow.\n\nSig, vaunted champion of the Bright Star, just food for crows now, because of me.\n\nFritha had stared into Sig's eyes as she'd slowly thrust her blade deep, seen the pain, the flutter of life as it had left the giant. But the death had not satisfied Fritha as she had hoped it would; it had done little to fill the gaping hole inside her that screamed to be slaked with death and torment. Perhaps it was the way the giant had died that had marred Fritha's pleasure-not begging or screaming. Sig's last words had been a defiance, even if they were little more than a whispered breath upon her lips.\n\n\"Truth and courage,\" Fritha repeated to herself, then spat on the snow as if the very words tasted foul.\n\nAll part of the Great Lie.\n\nMorn thrust a flaming torch into the pyre, the falling snow hissed and steamed as tongues of fire crackled and writhed. Smoke billowed, in heartbeats the stench of burning wood and flesh mingled, swirling about the lakeshore, and Morn lifted her head and howled her grief to the snow-laden sky."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha walked past Morn in silence, Gunil's heavy footsteps crunching behind her as they passed through an open gateway in a stockaded wall, entering the mining complex. Lines of smoke still blackened the sky, timber frames charred and collapsing as she strode across the complex, making her way through a sprawl of buildings to the open square where the ritual had taken place, where Gulla had been changed, transformed.\n\nBecome the first Revenant.\n\nFritha shuddered at the memory of it, feeling a mixture of fear and exhilaration as she remembered the giant bat being nailed to the table, the excitement she'd felt coursing through her as she'd held a blade to Gulla's throat, the jet of blood. And then Asroth's severed hand, the power of his blood.\n\nWe did it.\n\nI did it.\n\nThe courtyard opened up before her; afresh layer of snow covered the gore-spattered ground. At the northern end stood a thick-legged table, long and broad, pools of blood, bodies and dismembered limbs still scattered across it. They were testament not only to last night's battle, but also to the many moons of laboured experimentation and muttered spells that had been undertaken, the transformation of men and beasts into something... more. Fritha felt a flush of joy just looking at it, for she loved her work. To transform, to create.\n\nOne of the results of those experiments prowled past Fritha, something part man, part beast, a creature of tooth and claw, hunched and muscled, limbs elongated. A Feral being. It glanced at Fritha, paused as it bared its teeth, long and blood-crusted, nostrils flaring on its muzzle as it drew in her scent. A tremored growl as it recognized her and paced closer, dropping its head to her."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha reached out and stroked the Feral's cheek.\n\n\"My baby,\" she whispered, and the Feral pushed against her hand, a moment's affection, and then it was loping away and disappearing into the shadows.\n\nFritha walked around a mound of piled corpses, acolytes fallen in the battle, limbs twisted together in a macabre embrace. Their bodies steamed in the winter cold. Too many to count, though Fritha thought over a score of their number lay there, and still more were being carried in from the edges of the camp, a trail of the dead marking where Sig and her companions had carved a path to the stockade wall and made their escape.\n\nHow could they slay so many?\n\nFour against many-over fifty acolytes and a score of my Ferals.\n\nSig and her companions had wreaked such havoc amongst them last night: three men, a giant bear, a wolven and a talking crow. They had fled into the night while the giantess Sig stood and bought them time with her sword.\n\nFritha shook her head, could still hardly believe it, though the growing pile of the slain was a stark reminder that her mind had not exaggerated last night's events.\n\nThe dead tell no lies.\n\nA crowd stood gathered about a figure beyond the table, tall and dark-haired, wings furled behind his back.\n\nGulla, Lord of the Kadoshim.\n\nFritha strode purposefully towards him, and shaven-haired acolytes parted for her. This was the first time she had observed Gulla clearly since last night; even he had not gone unscathed. A bandage wrapped his once-handsome, sharp-angled face, covering the ruin of his eye-socket where one of the Bright Star's talking crows had taken an eye. But it was the ritual which had marked him most: his whole body was transformed, taller, limbs elongated. His muscles coiled like rope about his frame, each striation and fibre visible, veins pulsing, and a shadow seemed to edge him, like a dark halo. Fritha's eyes were drawn to Gulla's mouth, which appeared wider, the hint of too many teeth behind stretched skin, and the tips of two sharp canines protruding from his lips. Across his throat was a raw scar, scabbed and weeping a translucent pus, where Fritha had cut his throat and slain him, all the while speaking her spells of blood and bone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And now he is reborn, the first Revenant-anew creation fora new type of war.\n\n\"My Lord,\" Fritha said as she reached him, dipping her head.\n\n\"Priestess,\" Gulla said. Even his voice was changed after last night's ceremony. Where once it had been deep and resonant, now it was a whispered hiss, as if Fritha heard it inside her head, scratching within her skull.\n\nMen and women stood about Gulla, seven figures gazing at him with something akin to worship. Last night they had been human, but now, like him, they were something more. Gulla had turned them, drunk their blood and transformed them into anew creation. Into a weapon.\n\nA weapon that will change this world.\n\nThey stood about, all of them trembling like newborn colts, as if they had not yet learned to master their bodies. One of them took a juddering step forwards. He had once been Ulf the tanner, one of the lords of Kergard, a large town west of the mine, built upon the banks of Starstone Lake. Now he was Ulf the Revenant, one of the Seven, disciple of Gulla.\n\n\"Hungry,\" Ulf hissed. The others behind him grunted their agreement.\n\nGulla smiled.\n\n\"We did it,\" Fritha said, feeling a smile spread across her own face.\n\n\"Aye, Priestess,\" Gulla said. \"You did it. I never doubted you.\"\n\nDid you not? Even when I held my blade to your throat? she asked silently. I doubted myself, for so long. But no more. She looked at the great table, stained black from the lifeblood of a thousand experiments, her eyes moving to the cliff face behind them, set with iron bars and shadow-filled cages. Caves burrowed deep into the cliff, home to a hundred more cages, where other of her experiments lived. And bred."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Soon they will multiply. Where there are ten, there will be a hundred, where a hundred, soon a thousand.\n\nA dull thud resounded, a puff of dust as cage bars rattled and ground at the stone they were set into. A Feral glowered out from the darkness behind those bars, then wrapped its teeth around thick iron and wrenched at it, trying to chew its way through the bones of the earth. Blood mingled with saliva and froth as the Feral heaved and tore at its cage, but the bars held.\n\nFritha smiled at it, like a mother at a mischievous child.\n\nNot all of my experiments have been so successful, not all of my children can be trusted to prowl amongst us.\n\nHer eyes returned to Gulla, full of anew, unholy fire.\n\nBut you, you are my greatest achievement.\n\nThus far.\n\n\"There will be no stopping us, now.\" Gulla grinned. \"They will head for Dun Seren.\"\n\n\"They will,\" Fritha agreed.\n\n\"They must not reach it. Our enemies cannot learn of...\" He paused, fingertips brushing his fangs, caressing. \"Me,\" he finished.\n\n\"They cannot,\" Fritha agreed. \"It is too soon, too early.\"\n\nA gust of wind and beating of wings, and Morn swept down from the sky, landing amidst them with a swirl of fresh-fallen snow. Fritha tasted ash and ice.\n\n\"I will hunt my brother's killer,\" Morn said, muscled shoulders hunched and twitching as she glowered up at Gulla, as if daring him to deny her.\n\nDrem, you mean, Fritha thought, remembering the young huntsman who had cast the spear that sent Ulfang crashing from the night sky. A shiver of emotion rippled through her at the thought of Drem. He had been her neighbour fora time."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And my friend."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The word sounded strange, even in the veiled darkness of her mind.\n\nShe had seen something in Drem's eyes when he'd looked at her. Not desire, or greed, or lust; that she was used to from men. There had been something deeper.\n\nFriendship.\n\nSomething kind.\n\nIn Drem, Fritha had seen someone searching fora kinship, for meaning, and fora time she'd thought she was the one to give it to him. She'd hoped to win him over, to show him how life was not black and white, that there was more to the Kadoshim than the nightmare tales spoken of them around fires in the dead of night. But it was not to be. Last night Drem had tried to kill her, had sworn that he would.\n\nAll things come to an end, Fritha thought bitterly. He could have been mine, should have been mine.\n\nBut Drem had chosen a different path, one that would involve slaying her, if his words last night were anything to go by.\n\nWe all make our choices. And truth be told, I cannot blame him. I did cause the death of his father.\n\nIt had been Drem's father, Olin, who had found and forged the Starstone Sword that Fritha now wore at her hip. The taking of it had meant Olin's death.\n\nBut I spared Drem, when I could have cut his throat or had him carved into a thousand pieces. That should have counted for something.\n\n\"Ulfang will be avenged,\" Gulla continued. Something shifted across Morn's face, part snarl, part smile, and she flexed her wings and bent her knees as if to take to the air and begin the hunt that very moment."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Fritha snorted."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Grief has clouded her wits. It will take more than one half-breed Kadoshim to put the heads of Drem and his companions in a sack.\n\n\"But not alone,\" Gulla said, a hand snaking out to grip Morn's shoulder. \"Gunil and his bear will accompany you, and Fritha will lead.\" The Kadoshim's eyes shifted to her. \"Fritha, gather your followers, gather your Red Right Hand.\" He paused, a twitch at the corners of his mouth hinting at a smile. It was the name Fritha had given to those acolytes and Ferals that she had led into Drassil, who had fought for her and helped her to cut Asroth's iron-encased hand from his frozen arm.\n\nMorn glared at Gulla, mouth spasming, but Gulla held her gaze.\n\n\"I share your pain, daughter,\" Gulla said, \"but you cannot accomplish this alone, and I would not lose you also. Fritha will command. Together you shall hunt them, and together you shall end them.\"\n\nMorn's mouth twisted, a growling sound leaking from her throat, but she dipped her head in submission.\n\n\"Will you not lead us, my Lord?\" Fritha asked.\n\n\"Me? No,\" Gulla said. He looked at the seven Revenants surrounding him, his firstborn. \"I am for Kergard; I have an army to build.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda reached for his bow as Ben-Elim swept down from above, great winged silhouettes blotting out the sky, too many to count. Fia had disappeared inside the cabin, Jost and Vald were stumbling to their feet and running to Riv, who stood frozen, staring at Aphra. Ellac was standing, shouting orders, a curved sword in his one hand, and then a group of Bleda's honour guard were running into the glade and arrows were hissing from the shadows, up at the Ben-Elim.\n\nThere was a cry of pain and one of the winged warriors crashed through branches and plummeted to the ground, landing in an explosion of twigs. The Ben-Elim staggered to one knee, an arrow lodged deep in the meat between neck and shoulder. Before Bleda could blink, Ellac was there, sword rising and falling, the Ben-Elim collapsing back to the ground, blood staining the gravestones red.\n\nA hiss from above and Bleda was diving at Ellac, smashing into him and sending them both sprawling as a Ben-Elim's spear thrummed in the ground where Ellac had been standing. Bleda scrambled to his feet, pulled Ellac up and drew his bow from its leather case. Ina heartbeat he had it strung with an arrow drawn, searching fora target.\n\nThe Ben-Elim who had cast a spear at Ellac made that easy for Bleda. A dark-haired warrior, white wings and chainmail shirt gleaming in winter sun that shone in splintered shafts through leafless branches. He landed gently, a pulse of his great wings checking his descent. On one arm he carried along shield, and with his other hand he was drawing a sword from his hip and striding towards them.\n\nBleda loosed without thinking, straight at the Ben-Elim's heart, but with a shrug of the Ben-Elim's shield arm the arrow thumped into linden-wood, the Ben-Elim not breaking his stride. Bleda blinked, surprise and shock mingled, drew another arrow, loosed. Again, the Ben-Elim caught it on his shield, though the impact rocked him back a step."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A dozen paces separated them now. Bleda felt a worm of panic threading through his veins. Drew and loosed, aiming low this time, in the same heartbeat Ellac was rushing with a wordless battle-cry, sword raised. Bleda's arrow punched into the Ben-Elim's calf, dragging a grunt from the warrior and causing him to stumble, lowering his shield. Ellac swung, the Ben-Elim deflecting the blow, a clash of steel, sparks as they traded blows, then another arrow from Bleda plunged into the Ben-Elim's throat. He stumbled back, choking and spluttering, blood jetting. Ellac's sword chopped into his skull and he collapsed bonelessly.\n\nAn impact in Bleda's back sent him flying, crunching to the ground, his bow spinning away. He tasted leaves and dirt, rolled to lookup at a Ben-Elim standing over him, wings furled, a spear raised high, then he thrust, driving straight for Bleda's chest.\n\nMOVE. Fora moment he was frozen, unable to do anything except watch the bright steel of the Ben-Elim's spear speed towards his heart.\n\nThen in a blur of feathers and mail the Ben-Elim was gone, Bleda was lying on his back, gasping like a landed fish. Feathers drifted down around him, some gleaming white, others a soft dapple grey.\n\nDragging himself upright, Bleda watched Riv rolling with the Ben-Elim, an incomprehensible whirlwind of limbs and wings. They separated, the Ben-Elim stepping away, making room to swing his spear, a flash of horror and disgust as his eyes took in Riv and her wings. Riv snarled and leaped, bursting through the guard of the Ben-Elim's whirling spear, and her muscled arms grabbed at him, pulling the Ben-Elim close as she headbutted him; a breath later, her knee was crunching into his groin. The Ben-Elim sagged, dropped to his knees and Riv grabbed his head in both hands, with a savage twist snapping his neck."
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fora moment Riv held the limp corpse in her grip, veins bulging in her neck, nostrils flaring, then she let it fall to the ground. A scream from the glade, another voice-Vald?-bellowing for help, and Riv was snatching up the dead Ben-Elim's spear and bursting into motion, half running, half flying as she sped back into the fight.\n\nBleda ran for his bow, snatched it up, saw Vald was standing over Jost, furiously trading blows with three Ben-Elim. Bleda knew he only had moments: Vald's sole weapon was his short-sword, standard issue of the White-Wings. It was deadly in a shield wall with no space to swing or manoeuvre, but the Ben-Elim bearing down on Vald were armed with spear, shield and sword, and Vald would not retreat from his fallen friend.\n\nIn an explosion of blood, a spear-point burst through the chest of one Ben-Elim, Riv standing behind him, lifting him from the floor and casting him away like a skewered rat. The other two halted their attack on Vald, frozen fora moment at the sight of Riv, gore splattered, wings spread. Then Fia rushed from the cabin, sprinting across the glade, White-Wing shield on one arm, another slung across her back, short-sword in her hand. She thrust a shield at Vald, shrugged the other from her back and with a crack of timber their shields locked, both of them standing over Jost.\n\nOne of the Ben-Elim turned on Riv, but he fell with Bleda's arrow sprouting from his neck, the other Ben-Elim beating his wings, jabbing a spear at Vald and Fia and retreating out of range.\n\nA quick glance showed Bleda that some of his guard still stood, though he spied at least four dead or dying on the ground. Silhouettes of Ben-Elim still choked the sky, swirling down upon them."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"With me!\" Bleda cried, running to Riv and the others, Ellac and his surviving guards following. Jost was groaning upon the ground, a wound on his head had blood sheeting across his face. Bleda and his guards formed a half-circle about the fallen warrior, guarding the backs of Fia and Vald, their bows aiming upwards.\n\nCan we survive this?\n\nBleda saw the Ben-Elim were carrying large war-shields, making arrow-work harder still, even without the snarl of branches that helped to deflect the flight of arrows.\n\nThe Ben-Elim have learned from their last encounter with us Sirak. I have never seen them bearing shields before.\n\n\"Come, winged ones,\" Bleda hissed, \"and we'll make a song from your dead that will make even my mother Erdene proud.\" Beside him Ellac barked a laugh, the tide of battle and blood sweeping away his cold-face. The old warrior snatched up a shield from a fallen Ben-Elim and gave some cover to Bleda and the other guards, brandishing his sword at any who flew close, and Bleda and his men let loose volley after volley into the sky above them.\n\nA handful of Ben-Elim tumbled from the sky, splintering branches in their fall, but more continued to spiral down through the trees to join the attack.\n\nSpears rained down upon them, the warrior to Bleda's left was pierced through the chest, transfixed as the spear-point punched deep into the ground. Bleda loosed, his arrow deflected by a branch and skittering away. Drew and loosed again, this time a Ben-Elim crashing to the ground, an arrow piercing his eye.\n\nThen a noise filtered through the din of battle, through the snap and whir of arrows, through the screams and clang of iron and steel, the beating of wings."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A steady, rhythmic drumming.\n\nShapes formed amongst the trees before Bleda: warriors emerging, men and women, all with close-cropped hair, clad in mail and boiled leather, white wings embossed on huge rectangular shields upon their arms. They were advancing, clashing swords upon shield-rims. Bleda recognized faces amongst them.\n\nWhite-Wings. Aphra's hundred.\n\nAnd Aphra led them.\n\nAnother of Bleda's guards fell, a spear in the belly, blood gushing from his mouth. Bleda nocked another arrow, felt too few feathers left in his quiver, loosed at the approaching wall of White-Wings, his arrow punching into wood. Muttered a curse.\n\nThe White-Wings emerged into the glade, tightening their formation as the trees cleared, forming a circle around Bleda and the others, relentlessly marching closer. Bleda saw the gleam of steel, knew that when the White-Wings were close enough their short-swords would end this fight in moments.\n\n\"HOLD,\" a voice cried out. The White-Wings snapped to a sudden stop, shields a solid wall around Bleda and his companions, separating them from the attacking Ben-Elim.\n\nThe Ben-Elim ceased their attack, some spiralling in circles above, others landing on think branches, silent as predatory hawks.\n\nAphra stepped out of the line, eyes fixed on Riv, who was drenched in blood, hovering above Jost, Vald and Fia. She alighted before her friends, facing Aphra, and Bleda saw a host of emotions sweep across the warrior captain's face.\n\n\"Riv, stop,\" Aphra said. \"There need be no more bloodshed. Please, lay down your arms.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You brought them here, led them tome,\" Riv said with a snarl, gesturing up at the Ben-Elim.\n\n\"Of course I did,\" Aphra said. \"This is the Land of the Faithful. The Ben-Elim rule here, and fora thousand leagues in every direction. There's been a change of leadership, but they still rule. I want you back with me, and that means back with them.\"\n\n\"They slew Mam,\" Riv said, a tremor of emotion shaking her voice. \"Kol slew our mam.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Aphra said, \"and my heart is broken. But you still live. You and I, we are kin, we are all that each other has to hold onto in this world, and I'd not lose you, too. I've lost-\" she paused, clenched her jaw fora moment. \"We've lost too much already. I wanted to find you, bring you home. Please, Riv, come home.\"\n\n\"Home? To the place where my mother was murdered?\"\n\n\"She was not murdered. She fell in battle, died a brave death, as all warriors hope for.\"\n\n\"She needs justice.\"\n\nAphra sucked in along, shuddering breath, her gaze shifting to take in Riv's wings, and she exhaled long and slow. \"I knew something was happening to you, to your back, but this...\"\n\nA ripple ran through Riv's wings, one dappled feather coming loose, drifting to land at Bleda's feet.\n\n\"Please, Riv, come home.\"\n\nA silence stretched, then a beating of wings from above. Bleda looked up to seethe Ben-Elim parting, a winged warrior descending from high above. Blond-haired, handsome, gleaming in a coat of mail, a ragged scar stretching from forehead to chin."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kol.\n\nHe landed gently in the space between Riv and Aphra, his eyes fixed on Riv. On her wings.\n\n\"This cannot be,\" he said hoarsely. \"Dalmae, when did she-?\"\n\n\"Do not speak of my mother,\" Riv growled.\n\n\"Dalmae, your mother, tried to kill me,\" Kol snapped a sharp retort.\n\n\"Kol,\" Aphra interrupted, \"you swore tome, gave me your oath. Riv will not be harmed.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Kol said, \"but I never knew this.\" He looked at Riv with disgust. \"Elyon's Lore...\"\n\n\"Which you have broken a thousandfold already,\" Aphra hissed.\n\n\"I know, but this, we have spent a hundred years ensuring this did not happen.\"\n\nBleda glanced at the cairns in the glade.\n\n\"How did this happen?\" Kol continued. \"Who did Dalmae-?\"\n\nA burst of motion and wings, and suddenly Kol was sprawled upon the ground, Riv standing over him. \"I said, DO NOT SPEAK OF MY MOTHER!\" she screamed, spittle flying, muscles twitching and spasming in her face and body.\n\nOh dear.\n\nBleda had seen that look before: Riv's face contorted, enveloped within a red rage, when she had saved him from a beating, single-handedly laying waste to half a dozen opponents. It was as if she became someone else.\n\n\"You dare,\" Kol hissed as his legs lashed out, kicking Riv's feet from under her, at the same time his wings beating, lifting him gracefully back to his feet.\n\nRiv half fell, but her wings pulsed and she regained her balance."
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're not fighting an old woman this time,\" Riv yelled as she hurled herself at Kol.\n\nThey came together with a concussive crash, muscle, bone and wings slamming into each other, the two winged warriors such a maelstrom of fury and speed that for long moments Bleda was unable to track what was happening.\n\nThey separated, Kol rolling on the ground, Riv rising into the air, spear raised high.\n\nBen-Elim moved above Bleda.\n\n\"No,\" Kol snarled, palm raised to his kinsmen. Blood dripped from a cut above his eye. \"She's mine.\" Slowly he stood, gripped the hilt of the sword scabbarded at his hip, with a hiss of steel drew it, raised it high in a two-handed grip. \"Come, then,\" he called up to Riv, \"and have your revenge, if you can.\"\n\n\"NO,\" Aphra screamed, throwing herself at Kol. \"You swore Riv would not be harmed.\"\n\nAt a signal from Kol, two Ben-Elim swept forwards and grabbed Aphra, dragging her away. Aphra's cry of dismay was blotted out as with a screech of fury Riv all but fell from the air, a beat of her wings propelling her, then tucking in tight as she drove downwards, spear aimed straight at Kol's heart.\n\nThe Ben-Elim stood motionless as the speed of Riv's dive sent fallen leaves and forest litter swirling around him.\n\nHe's dead, skewered like a rat in a barrel, Bleda thought. And then, in a blur of motion, Kol was no longer there, a simple sidestep, Riv yelling, wings stretching wide to stop herself ploughing into the ground. With a beat and contraction of wings, she turned in the air, landed feet first, stumbled, spear hissing through the air, still searching for Kol's heart."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was aloud crack as Kol's sword sliced, Riv stumbling backwards, her spear chopped in two, one half in each hand. She looked at each half of the shaft, then with an incoherent howl launched herself at Kol, arms windmilling, both shafts striking at him. The Ben-Elim retreated before her, sparks flying as he deflected the spear-point, grunting as the shaft crunched into a shoulder, leaning back as the spearhead sliced through air, grazed his lip, the speed and fury of Riv's assault almost overwhelming him. Then, somehow, Kol was in the air above Riv, slashing down. Riv gave a cry of pain as Kol landed behind her, a boot sending her sprawling face-first to the ground.\n\nRiv rose to her hands and knees, one hand still clutching half of the spear shaft. Bleda felt a fist clench and twist in his gut as he saw blood leaking from a gash in Riv's shoulder. Her wings beat, helping her turn, but Kol was upon her, his sword slashing, the spear shaft spinning away, a boot in Riv's face sending her crashing back to the earth. Kol stood over her, sword raised high.\n\n\"Give your mother my wishes,\" he said.\n\nBleda drew his bowstring, aimed straight at Kol's heart.\n\nA blow to his arm and his arrow fell to the ground, Ellac's boot stamping and snapping the shaft.\n\n\"It's a fair fight, my Prince. Kol did not allow his own to intervene. Don't dishonour her,\" Ellac hissed, his one hand gripping Bleda's wrist.\n\n\"To the Otherworld with honour,\" Bleda hissed. \"It's Riv.\" He yanked at his wrist, but as much as Bleda struggled, he could not pull free; Ellac's grip was like iron. There was a frozen, terrible moment as Kol's sword slashed down at Riv."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"NO!\" someone screamed: Aphra, leaping forwards and grabbing Kol's forearm, hauling him off balance. \"You cannot.\"\n\n\"She's a wild animal,\" Kol snarled, blood dripping from his lip, one eye purpling and closing. He shoved Aphra away, a buffet of his wings sending her stumbling and falling to the ground. \"She must be put down like one.\"\n\n\"No, she's not,\" Aphra said, weeping now, holding Kol with her eyes. \"She's our daughter.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha paused at the treeline. The boughs were heavy and bending with snow.\n\nThe meadows were painted white, and beyond them rose the palisaded walls of Kergard, the most northerly town of the Desolation. Flames and black clouds of smoke belched from Kergard's heart, and on the cold wind Fritha heard screams. Figures moved on the palisade, pinpricks from this distance. One tumbled over the wall and rolled down a slope as something else leaped after it.\n\n\"My father has waited along time for this,\" Morn said behind Fritha.\n\n\"This is only the beginning,\" Fritha breathed, aflutter of excitement in her belly at the thought of her long-awaited vengeance being fulfilled, at the sounds of Gulla and his Revenants building their war-host. Though the sounds echoing from within Kergard's walls were terrible, it was not death and slaughter that was taking place.\n\nWell, death of a sort, but then rebirth, the people of Kergard made new. Made better.\n\nGunil grunted from above her, sitting upon his great bear, Claw. Both giant and bear were wounded, bandaged and in pain, but Fritha knew it would not hinder them. Behind Gunil another thirty fur-wrapped figures stood, acolytes that had followed Fritha from the south. They were hard men and women, all of them in someway scarred by the hand of the Ben-Elim, their own grudges and grievances setting them on the same path as Fritha. They had followed her into the heart of Drassil, where she had cut Asroth's frozen hand from his entombed body, and stood alongside her and fought Ben-Elim and giants. She did not doubt their courage or loyalty."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Together we are Asroth's Red Right Hand.\n\nHer eyes met Arn's, a dark-haired, hook-nosed man with streaks of grey in his beard. He'd been with Fritha the longest, he and Elise, his daughter who stood beside him. Almost since the beginning, close to six long years since the death of Fritha's bairn. They had found Fritha upon her knees, weeping in a pool of her own child's blood. Fritha pushed down the memories, refused to entertain them, just acknowledged the years of hardship, the myriad moments where she had stood with Arn and Elise against the Ben-Elim, fought together, protected each other's backs.\n\n\"Come,\" Morn said, \"I can hear my brother's voice in the wind, his blood calls tome. He must have his vengeance.\"\n\nFritha looked at Morn.\n\nShe has always been mercurial, but has her brother's death unhinged her?\n\n\"Aye,\" Fritha said and turned away from Kergard, walking around the bulk of Gunil and Claw and through the parting ranks of her followers. She looked west, where the forests that spilt down from the slopes of the Bonefells met the scarred plains of the Desolation. Her gaze shifted to marks in the snow at her feet and she dropped to one knee. Snow had been falling all night and most of the day, but not heavy nor deep enough to mask the tracks of a full-grown war bear of Dun Seren. Fritha dug a gloved hand into the snow, scraping the fresh layer away to reveal red stains in the ice beneath. She smiled and scooped up blood and ice.\n\nDrem and the others, they have fled west, sticking to the woodland to give themselves cover. Wise, when a Kadoshim half-breed will be searching for them from the skies. But it will not help them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even if they were able to hide their tracks perfectly, Fritha knew she would find them. She rose and strode into the wooded shadows, where a score of shapes padded in the darkness, snuffling and growling. Her Ferals, the most manageable of her experiments, men, women and bairns taken from Kergard spliced together using blood magic with a wolven pack that had come south, fleeing the harsh winter of the Bonefells.\n\nShe crooned a command and one of the Ferals approached her with its crouched, loping gait. It was all muscle and patches of fur, yellowed teeth and claw. Fritha lifted her cupped hand with the blood from the bear to its muzzle and let it take a few deep, snorting breaths. Then it lifted it head to the wind, snuffling deeply, and howled. The other Ferals raised their heads and howled, too, a sound that echoed through the eerily muted forest, rising in volume and pitch until it enveloped Fritha's senses. It filled her with a deep, heartfelt joy.\n\n\"Ah, listen to them,\" Fritha said, smiling at Morn and Gunil, who did not seem to share her pleasure at the sound.\n\nThe howling died out and the first Feral set off at a loping run, the others close behind, quickly becoming ethereal shapes in the snowbound twilight of the forest.\n\n\"Come, Morn, you will have your revenge soon enough,\" Fritha said and set off after her pack, her acolytes falling into step behind her.\n\nMorn leaped into the air, wings powering her up into the snow-heavy sky, and Claw rumbled a growl, moving into a lumbering, limping stride."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem, I will find you soon, you and your new friends, and then you will regret spurning the offer I made to you."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv sat at a table in the woodsman's hut, staring at nothing as Fia stitched a deep gash in her shoulder. Fia's baby, Avi, lay in a cot close by, snoring gently, oblivious to the momentous events that had happened around him.\n\nWill Kol kill him, now, bury him beneath a cairn alongside his kin? My kin.\n\nWill he execute me? Kill my friends?\n\nVoices outside. Riv glowered at the door.\n\nThe battle was all something of a blur to her, a scarlet haze of blood and rage. That had faded now, replaced by exhaustion and shock, but she knew the red mist lurking in the dark places of her mind was still there, a hidden monster veiled in shadow. She had a vague memory of the world freezing at Aphra's announcement, Kol's sword hovering, his face twitching. She had felt her breath leave her, the adrenalin of the fight abandoning her, draining her strength and leaving her empty, drooping like a windless sail. Then hands reaching for her, lifting her, half-carrying her to the woodsman's hut. There was blood under her fingernails, on her clothes, her wings, the stench of it in her nose, the copper tang of it in her mouth. Her body ached, a score of cuts and grazes. A few deeper wounds, like the one Fia was stitching for her. She didn't care about any of it, hardly felt the pain of Fia's hooked needle weaving in and out of her flesh. All she could focus on was...\n\nShe is our daughter.\n\nNausea churned in her belly.\n\nOur daughter.\n\nRaised voices outside, angry."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Is that Vald? What are they doing to my friends? Bleda? Jost?\n\nThe anger stirred and she half rose from her stool, realized that her wrists were chained behind her back. She snarled, flexed her arms, knew that she could have snapped ropes, but chains...\n\nThey just might take me a little longer.\n\nFia gripped her wrist.\n\n\"Please,\" Fia whispered. \"Wait. Go out there now and you will get us all killed.\"\n\nRiv stared at her, took along, shuddering breath and sat back down, involuntary twitches passing through her wings, an expression of her mood.\n\nThe door opened and Aphra walked in, eyes fixed only on Riv.\n\nShe is our daughter...\n\nEverything I know is a lie. Aphra, who are you? Are you truly my mother?\n\nDalmae washer mother, Aphra her sister, whom she had bickered with, admired, loved, fought with, teased, and worshipped more than a little.\n\nNot anymore.\n\n\"I am sorry. So sorry,\" Aphra said, a tremor in her voice. Tentatively, she reached a hand towards Riv.\n\nRiv flinched away and Aphra's hand jerked back to her side.\n\nFia tied off her stitching, bit off the thread, dabbed in some honey and bandaged the wound.\n\n\"There is so much to say, to tell you,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"Aye. Of how you've lied tome, all of my life,\" Riv grated through locked jaws.\n\nA tear welled in Aphra's eye, spilt onto her cheek."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"All I've done has only ever been to keep you safe,\" Aphra whispered.\n\n\"Safe? That hasn't worked out too well,\" Riv observed. She pointedly looked at the fresh-stitched wound on her shoulder, the mass of cuts and grazes allover her body, the blood, everywhere. \"Mam murdered.\" She passed a slow ripple through her furled wings. \"Mean abomination, at the top of the execution list.\"\n\nThe door opened again and Kol entered. Afresh wave of hate and rage swelled in Riv's chest at the sight of him, anew tension filling the air, the presence of imminent death a palpable thing. Two Ben-Elim followed Kol and remained standing at the door as he limped towards them. Riv felt a moment of satisfaction as she saw one of his eyes was swollen closed and mottled purple with bruising, a scab forming on his lip.\n\nHe stood before the table, looking between them. A murmur from the baby in his cot drew Kol's eyes. Fia took a step, placed herself between Kol and the bairn. Kol stared at Fia along moment. \"Adonai's child?\" he asked.\n\n\"He is. His name is Avi,\" Fia said defiantly.\n\n\"He should be cold and in the ground,\" Kol said, a sneer curling his lip as he stared at Fia's baby. \"You knew the price when you joined with Adonai. I made it clear to you.\"\n\n\"You did,\" Fia said, \"and I agreed because I was a fool, infatuated with Adonai, blinded by the radiance of you Ben-Elim. I felt I was being loved by a god.\"\n\nKol smiled. \"In Elyon's absence, we are the closest you mortals will ever come to a god.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His arrogance makes me want to vomit."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Or kill him, thought Riv.\n\n\"So why have you not fulfilled your part of the bargain?\" Kol asked, looking genuinely confused. \"You may love us, but consequences such as... this-\" Kol gestured-\"cannot seethe light of day. Israfil would have had our heads, and yours. He maybe dead, but there are others amongst the Ben-Elim who share his puritanical ways.\"\n\n\"Love changed my mind,\" Fia said, eyes flickering to Avi and back to Kol.\n\nKol gave Fia a disgusted look and took a shuddering breath. His gaze shifted to Riv, to her wings. He shook his head.\n\nShe glared at him, tested her chains. They were infuriatingly strong.\n\n\"We have much to talk about,\" Kol said. \"Sit down, all of you,\" he muttered. \"And you, behave yourself,\" he said to Riv. With a grimace of pain, he sat, facing all three of them.\n\n\"So, Aphra, explain our daughter.\"\n\n\"It's plain enough,\" Aphra said, her eyes dipping to the floor. An indrawn breath, shoulders straightening, eyes rising to meet Kol's.\n\nHis mouth twisted. \"That cannot be, I would have known-\" His eyes narrowed and he snapped his fingers. \"When Dalmae took you on campaign to the Agullas Mountains?\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Aphra nodded.\n\n\"Lorin?\" Riv said. All her life she had thought the White-Wing had been her father. She had asked Aphra to tell her tales of her da, so many times.\n\n\"Lorin was not your father,\" Aphra said, looking at Riv. Aphra drew in a deep breath, as she had when Riv was about to leap into the icy waters of the river Vold, north of Drassil. \"He was my father, but not yours. Kol is your father.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv just stared at Aphra, unable to squeeze words past the constriction in her throat.\n\n\"And Dalmae?\" Kol said, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. \"What washer part in all of this?\"\n\n\"It was all my mother's-your grandmother,\" Aphra directed to Riv. \"It was all her idea.\"\n\nMy grandmother. Another new fact that felt startlingly, shockingly, wrong.\n\n\"We were on campaign in the Agullas Mountains,\" Aphra was saying, \"fighting an uprising of rebels who wanted the land of Tenebral reformed, wanted to split from the Ben-Elim's Land of the Faithful. My father, Lorin, was slain during an ambush. We were grieving, Mam and I, and at the same time I knew that your seed was growing in my belly, had known before we left Drassil. The grief of losing my father... I was a mess, felt at my wits\" end, and it just spilt out. I told Mam everything. About you, Kol, about the coterie of Ben-Elim that you had gathered to yourself, those that shared your... tastes. The secret meetings, the mock campaigns you took us on.\"\n\n\"There are many of us,\" Kol said with a twitching smile, a quick glance to the two Ben-Elim standing guard at the door. \"And even more, now that Israfil is no longer around to take our wings or our heads.\" His smile withered. \"But how did you hide it? Even amongst Dalmae's hundred, tongues would have wagged. Your belly...\"\n\n\"Mother handed her command down, gave it to her second, and said we were taking my father's body back to his kin in Ripa. Which we did, but then we left and lived alone in the forests around Balara for some months.\" She paused, looked at Riv. \"They were happy times. And then you were born, which was my greatest joy.\" Her hand reached out again, hesitant, stopping at Riv's dark look. She sucked in along breath."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then we went back to Dalmae's hundred, where she told them she had been pregnant with Lorin's bairn. They rejoiced for her, and just like that, I had anew sister and was no longer a mother. Except inhere.\" She put fingertips over her heart.\n\n\"Lie upon lie upon lie,\" Riv growled.\n\n\"I had to,\" Aphra said to her desperately, \"it was that or see you murdered. You just heard Kol talk of the agreement between us privileged few who were invited to partake of the Ben-Elim's greatness. We could love the Ben-Elim, but if we ended up with child, then we had to eradicate that... consequence, as Kol put it. That was no choice at all for me.\"\n\n\"It is not much of a sacrifice to make.\" Kol shrugged.\n\n\"You may have become flesh,\" Aphra growled, \"but you are not acquainted with that quality that makes us human. Love. Bonds of family and friendship.\"\n\nKol snorted. \"Whatever frail, pathetic emotion guided you in your deception, you did it well. I never knew or suspected a thing,\" he said, blowing between his teeth.\n\n\"You could not,\" Aphra said to him. To both of them she said, \"Else Riv's corpse would have been out there lying beneath a cairn alongside all of the others. I could not, would not, do that.\"\n\n\"There is still time for that,\" Kol said, shooting Riv a flat look.\n\n\"Like to see you try,\" Riv growled, rattling the chains that bound her wrists.\n\n\"You are an abomination, Elyon's Lore demands your execution,\" Kol snarled.\n\n\"Yes, but I am your abomination, the get of a sin that you have committed, for which the same Lore demands that you should be executed, too.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Kol and Riv glared atone another, hatred leaking in waves from both of them, their malice towards one another almost a physical thing."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then he did something that took Riv by surprise. He leaned back and laughed.\n\n\"A fair point,\" he said. \"Fortunately for me,\" Kol continued, \"I am now as good as the Lord Protector of the Land of the Faithful, so I do not have to be so rigorous about maintaining a Lore that would see my head on a spike. You, however, area problem. Lore or no Lore, there is no hiding your wings.\" He took a moment to consider them. \"You could never pass fora Ben-Elim, they are dapple grey, not white, and of course,\" he added, \"you're a woman.\"\n\nRiv blinked at that; all of the Ben-Elim were male. She felt abruptly so alone, a half-breed, but also the only woman to have wings.\n\nThe joy of flight is a blessing, but in all other ways I am cursed.\n\nKol shook his head. \"Even forgetting your wings, your gender and your... heritage, you have slain Ben-Elim, taken the lives of the Faithful-\"\n\n\"As have you,\" Riv interrupted.\n\n\"Ah, all this one does is keep pointing out my shortcomings. I am not perfect, true,\" Kol said, shaking his head and spreading his arms wide.\n\nIs he enjoying this?\n\n\"But you have slain my followers, out therein the glade,\" Kol continued. \"There must be a price for that. And you area problem that I can only see is best solved by taking your head and burying you in a ditch.\"\n\n\"There are other options,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"Yes. I could bury you in a ditch,\" Riv said bitterly to Kol.\n\nAphra slammed a fist on the table. \"Shut up, Riv,\" she said. \"You're not helping.\" She took a deep, shuddering breath. \"I am trying to save you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Don't bother, liar,\" Riv retorted.\n\n\"Life is not as clear as you see it,\" Aphra said. \"You would be hard-pressed to find someone who has not lied, at some point in their life. All lie, it is the why that is important.\"\n\n\"Israfil never lied,\" Riv said.\n\n\"And look where that got him,\" Kol said.\n\nRiv turned her glower upon him.\n\n\"It has been a dark, confusing time. Sometimes there is no easy or obvious path.\" Aphra sighed, rubbing a hand across her forehead, squeezing her temples.\n\n\"Seems simple enough tome,\" Riv said. \"Israfil was the Lord Protector, Kol schemed and murdered him. And my mother.\" Her lips twisted. \"Grandmother.\"\n\n\"The impetuosity of youth,\" Kol observed, \"when all is so clear, so easy to judge.\"\n\n\"Riv, please see, please think. I have lived sixteen years with you, a path of joy as I have watched you grow, and sadness that I could not hold you, as I yearned to, always stepping aside, to be the sister, not the mother. But that was better than not having you at all, always so much better.\"\n\n\"But you've lied tome.\"\n\n\"Yes, I have,\" Aphra said, \"to keep you alive. You would do the same, too, for someone you loved.\"\n\nRiv felt something shift in her then, the words crashing into her like a battering ram at the doors of her heart. A swell of emotion that fora change was not rage. The doors held fast, but something in them had cracked, a hairline fracture through her rage and resolve. She ground her teeth, angry with herself for feeling even a moment of weakness in her hatred, for the lies Aphra had told, the terrible damage she had wrought. Yet part of her understood, knew that there was a logic to Aphra's actions."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But it has all led to Mother's, to Dalmae's death. To Israfil's death. To changing everything.\n\n\"I hate you,\" Riv said to Aphra. Then looked slow and cold at Kol. \"And I want to kill you.\"\n\nKol threw his head back and belly-laughed.\n\n\"Tell me something I don't already know,\" he said when his laughter eased enough that he could speak.\n\n\"The way forward,\" Aphra said doggedly.\n\n\"Aye,\" Kol nodded. \"As much as this is all very entertaining, I have a realm to rule, and it is not simple, believe me. You think this is complicated? You should try ruling the Banished Lands fora day.\" He pinched the top of his nose between finger and thumb. \"Technically, I am not even ruler yet. I have not been officially named Lord Protector.\" He smiled at them. \"But I will be. So, Aphra. You said that I have options. The obvious one is to kill Riv, Fia and... this.\" Kol gestured with a hand at Avi in his cot.\n\n\"Do that and you will have to kill me, also,\" Aphra said, and for the first time there was no diplomacy in her voice. Just a fact.\n\nKol stared at her, his face shifting to something cold and aloof. Calculating.\n\n\"I could do that,\" Kol said.\n\n\"Aye. But you would have to kill my hundred, as well.\"\n\n\"Yes. A difficult task, and one where I would take losses. But, again, I could do that.\"\n\nAphra nodded. \"In doing so you would be killing anally and losing a hundred swords that would stand beside you in the difficult days ahead.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kol dipped his head, an acknowledgement.\n\n\"And then there would be the matter of the parchments I have written,\" Aphra continued, \"that will be sent far and wide, telling of what you have done, including fathering half-breeds.\"\n\nKol's lips twisted, shifting to fury.\n\n\"You would threaten me?\"\n\n\"As you did me, to join you against Israfil, told me it was in my interest to support you, that I would die if I did not. This is no different.\" Aphra's hands didn't move, but Riv could seethe threat of violence rolling from Aphra in waves.\n\n\"I did not threaten you. I told you Israfil would execute you if he found out our secret.\"\n\nAphra snorted. \"It was a threat.\"\n\nKol shrugged, dismissing the point. \"Where are these parchments?\"\n\n\"Safe,\" Aphra said, \"with people I trust. The first place they will reach is Dun Seren. The Order of the Bright Star would find it all most interesting.\"\n\n\"You would jeopardize the war against the Kadoshim?\"\n\n\"I would not care. I would be dead, and all that I love would be dead.\"\n\n\"Humans.\" Kol sighed. \"Always ruled by your emotions.\" He drummed fingers on the table. \"And the alternative?\"\n\n\"Change things.\" Aphra shrugged. \"Anew order, where the boundaries between Ben-Elim and humankind are not so... fixed. That is what you are doing now, anyway. This would just be more obvious.\"\n\n\"Yes, you have that right,\" Kol said, looking at Riv's wings.\n\n\"You have carried out a coup, killed Israfil, taken the lordship of the Ben-Elim for yourself. You are in charge, now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, but it doesn't mean I can do this. Not all of the Ben-Elim are behind me; my power is not consolidated yet.\"\n\n\"It will be. You have a thousand Ben-Elim declaring their support for you already. The rest will follow. You said yourself, now that Israfil is dead, more will be happy for your new way to begin. You and your kind will be enjoying the pleasures this world of flesh gives, having relations with humankind, as you have already been doing fora hundred years, but more openly. But there will still be consequences, there will be more bairns born, more than ever before. You cannot keep it all a secret any longer, or do you plan to kill them all?\"\n\n\"No,\" Kol said, \"but I was planning on taking the stepson this path slowly, a gentle slope into change, not a cliff-leap to jagged rocks and possible execution.\"\n\n\"Better to just do it, get it over with and enjoy the fruits of your victory.\"\n\nHe rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully. \"And there is Elyon's Lore,\" he added.\n\n\"Is it really Elyon's Lore? Or is it the Ben-Elim's lore, fashioned to create a world that suited the Ben-Elim? To establish the boundaries that you wanted, the obedience you needed to fight the Kadoshim?\"\n\nKol raised an eyebrow. \"Good point.\" He smiled. \"Clever as well as beautiful.\"\n\nI cannot believe what I am hearing.\n\nAphra is proposing Kol change the doctrines that have ruled our lives fora hundred years.\n\nBut if they area lie, made up to keep control, then why not change them? Why follow them at all.\n\n\"You change Elyon's Lore as you are changing everything else,\" Aphra said. \"You would not need to declare it to the world, just quietly remove those parts from the texts. What is it you have often said tome? People are sheep. So, you lead, and everyone else will follow.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kol inhaled, long and slow, then turned his eyes onto Riv.\n\n\"And what do you say to all of this, daughter?\" he asked her.\n\nRiv wanted to punch him in the face for that, though at the same time she felt some strange reluctance seep through her limbs.\n\nDaughter.\n\nHe's my father.\n\nAnd I hate him.\n\n\"What do you want of me?\" Riv said, her gaze flitting from Kol to Aphra.\n\n\"That you refrain from trying to kill me, if I take those chains off,\" Kol said.\n\nThat will be hard.\n\n\"To understand,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"He killed Dalmae,\" Riv whispered, sparks of hatred fizzing out of the fiery rage within her.\n\n\"Yes, he did. It was a battle, she died. My heart is broken for her loss, a thousand times over. But I would not lose you, too.\" Aphra's hand reached out, touched Riv's leg, and this time Riv did not pull away.\n\nPart of her understood Aphra's logic, knew that there was sense and truth in it, and now there was apart of her that wanted to hold Aphra, to hug her and squeeze her and never let her go.\n\nBut the other part of her wanted to punch, smash and stab something.\n\nNo, not something. Kol.\n\nI just feel so angry, more than I've ever felt before. Kol was a hero tome, someone I admired, no, revered, respected as a warrior, a leader. Kol is nothing like the man I thought him to be. He is a liar and a murderer.\n\nI can understand what Aphra is saying, how she has been caught in a place with noway out, has made choices for those she loves. For me."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And she's right, I would do much for those whom I love. But would I do anything, as Aphra has for me?\n\n\"What of Bleda?\" Riv said slowly. \"Of my friends, Vald and Jost?\"\n\n\"What of them?\"\n\n\"They are only here because they have chosen to help me. They should not be harmed for that,\" Riv said, trying to hold back the rage that she felt at Kol's indifferent response.\n\n\"They have made poor choices.\" He scowled. \"Slain my Ben-Elim; that cannot go unpunished.\"\n\n\"Bleda's oathsworn lie dead out there, too,\" Riv growled.\n\nHurt Bleda and I shall break these chains and wrap them around your throat, make your eyes pop from your skull.\n\n\"Punish Bleda and you risk war with Erdene and the Sirak,\" Aphra added. \"You would win, but how easily? And do you need a war right now, with the Kadoshim stirring, and your position needing consolidating?\"\n\nA silence.\n\n\"No, I do not need a war,\" Kol conceded.\n\n\"People die in battle,\" Aphra said. \"Afterwards there is reconciliation. Pardon them all, for the sake of peace, grant an absolution to all who have fought in these troubles.\"\n\n\"Peace, absolution,\" Kol echoed. \"My instinct is to exterminate all who have caused me grief, but there is much wisdom in what you've said. Aphra, fora pretty human, there is some wisdom in that skull of yours.\"\n\nAphra said nothing, just looked at Kol.\n\n\"And you,\" Kol said, turning to Riv. \"Would you cooperate? Not attempt to kill me? Swear your oath tome?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Another silence.\n\nAll I have thought about is killing you. But I do not have to do it straightaway.\n\n\"I will not try to kill you,\" Riv said sullenly.\n\nNot yet, she promised herself.\n\n\"If Bleda and the others are not harmed,\" she added.\n\n\"Your oath,\" Kol said, more firmly. \"I must have your oath, swearing fealty tome. Loyalty and obedience.\"\n\nHow can I swear an oath to him? Bind myself to him? I would truly be giving up my vengeance. Turning my back on Dalmae.\n\nBut she is dead, gone, as Aphra said. And Bleda is alive, Jost and Vald are alive. But for how long?\n\n\"Your friends will thank you,\" Kol said.\n\nRiv drew in a deep breath, felt she was about to leap into a pit of adders.\n\n\"And my oath.\"\n\nKol held her eyes a moment longer, then nodded to himself. \"Good,\" he said. \"Then swear your oath, and seal it in blood.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pine trees thinned, a glare of sky and swirl of snow making Drem blink as they rode out of the twilight cover of the forest into a small clearing. Reining in his horse and twisting in his saddle, he looked back. Cullen dismounted and led his horse to a stream that frothed and foamed its icy way down from the Bonefells that reared above them, brooding guardians of the north. Keld was ahead, but he paused, too, with a click of his tongue guided his horseback to Drem. Fen loped after him. Hammer was somewhere off in the trees.\n\n\"What is it?\" Keld asked.\n\nDrem squinted and stared into the distance. For sometime, they had been climbing steadily into the foothills that preceded the Bonefells, trees turning from oak to pine as they gained altitude. The cold, ice-laced air felt thinner, Drem's chest burning when he drew in a full breath.\n\n\"Not sure,\" Drem muttered. Something had made him pause and look back. \"There,\" he said, pointing.\n\nA day and a half had passed since they'd said farewell to the white crow, Rab, and now they were high above the plain that Kergard sat upon. With a jolt, Drem realized that they were not far from the place where he and his father had once been attacked by a great white bear. He worked it out: only five moons had passed since that fateful day when they'd found a lump of starstone rock beneath the elk pit Drem had been digging. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and a different world. Certainly he felt like a different person. Drem's hand drifted up to the bear claw hanging around his neck. He'd chopped it from the white bear as it rampaged past him. Then his da had hauled him onto his shoulder and carried Drem to safety."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It feels as if Da's whole life was spent saving me or protecting me. He rested a hand upon the bone hilt of his seax, something about it comforting after what he'd recently learned. In someways he still is.\n\n\"I see it,\" Keld said.\n\nA flare of red firelight, bright in the all-white, just a flicker far in the distance, then it was gone, cutoff by a curtain of swirling snow.\n\n\"I think that's where Kergard should be,\" Drem said, though it was hard to tell.\n\nCullen joined them, drinking from afresh-filled water skin. He pushed the hood of his fur-lined cloak back, and looked up at the sky, snow dappling his cheeks. He stuck out his tongue, snowflakes landing and melting upon it.\n\n\"Ah, but I love the snow,\" Cullen said. His red hair was starting to grow back in tufts and clumps on his head.\n\nKeld just shook his head.\n\nAs Drem stared into the distance, more flickers of firelight appeared, scattered across the plain south of Kergard.\n\nKeld was staring, too.\n\n\"What is that?\" Cullen asked, seeing the flare and flicker of light on the plain.\n\n\"Kergard burns,\" Drem said.\n\n\"Aye, and a dozen holds south of Kergard,\" Keld added. \"Gulla is hiding no longer.\"\n\nDrem felt a frustrated anger radiating through him. There were people down there that he knew, had traded with, had lived alongside, and Gulla and his horde were murdering them.\n\nOr worse. He shivered as he remembered Gulla and his Revenants."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We could help them,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Too many of them, even for you,\" Keld said, glancing at Cullen. \"But we can help those further south, by getting to Dun Seren and telling Byrne what is happening.\"\n\n\"Let's be on with it, then,\" Drem said, a sense of futility and frustration burning in his belly.\n\nHammer emerged from the trees, bending and snapping branches. She scratched a paw on the ground.\n\nFen growled, head cocked to one side, ears twitching.\n\n\"What is it, lad?\" Keld asked, one hand resting on an axe-head at his belt.\n\nOut of the snow and wind a sound reached them, an ululating howl, rising and falling on the wind.\n\n\"Wolven?\" Drem breathed, knowing instantly that he was wrong. The sound was similar, but twisted somehow. Deeper, more frantic.\n\nMore howls, in the distance, yet not faraway enough for Drem's liking. Shapes moving amidst the trees much further down the slope. The shadowed bulk of something bigger behind them.\n\n\"Ferals,\" Keld said.\n\nA hiss as Cullen drew his sword.\n\n\"What do we do?\" Drem asked, wings of fear fluttering in his belly.\n\nKeld stared into the trees. Drem, following his gaze, saw more shapes solidifying than he was happy about. A dozen, more.\n\n\"I think we can take them,\" Cullen said, afire in his eyes as he bounced on the balls of his feet and gave his sword a lazy turn with his wrist.\n\nWe are clearly outnumbered and cannot win.\n\n\"We run,\" Keld said. \"Quick, help me with Hammer's harness and saddle.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha's breath was loud in her ears, her heart a drum in her chest. She was surrounded by snow and ice, but her leathers and furs were warm, her bearskin cloak a weight upon her shoulders, and she felt exhilarated by the thrill of the chase. She was close to catching Drem and his companions, she knew, the behaviour of her Ferals spurring heron. They were as excited by the hunt as she was, snapping and growling, some bounding on ahead up the steep incline, only returning reluctantly at her stern summons.\n\nThey're excited, like hounds scenting their prey, close to the kill.\n\n\"We are close,\" Gunil said. He was striding beside her, Claw lumbering behind.\n\nAn ear-splitting roar echoed through the forest, sending crows flapping and squawking from branches, making Fritha and her crew pause in their tracks.\n\nThat was a bear.\n\n\"Best mount up,\" Fritha said to Gunil, then without checking to see if he obeyed or not, she broke into a loping stride, her acolytes increasing their speed with her, the remaining Ferals bursting with the urge to run and kill, looking from her to the sounds filtering down to them, like hounds pulling on a leash.\n\nA bright light was glaring through the treeline. She drew a short-sword at her hip, felt more comfortable with it than the Starstone Sword, which she left in its scabbard, and barked a command. Her Ferals leaped into a sprint while she and her acolytes spread into a wider line after them, Arn and Elise either side of her. She heard the crash of Gunil and Claw somewhere behind."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 12"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha's breath was loud in her ears, her heart a drum in her chest. She was surrounded by snow and ice, but her leathers and furs were warm, her bearskin cloak a weight upon her shoulders, and she felt exhilarated by the thrill of the chase. She was close to catching Drem and his companions, she knew, the behaviour of her Ferals spurring heron. They were as excited by the hunt as she was, snapping and growling, some bounding on ahead up the steep incline, only returning reluctantly at her stern summons.\n\nThey're excited, like hounds scenting their prey, close to the kill.\n\n\"We are close,\" Gunil said. He was striding beside her, Claw lumbering behind.\n\nAn ear-splitting roar echoed through the forest, sending crows flapping and squawking from branches, making Fritha and her crew pause in their tracks.\n\nThat was a bear.\n\n\"Best mount up,\" Fritha said to Gunil, then without checking to see if he obeyed or not, she broke into a loping stride, her acolytes increasing their speed with her, the remaining Ferals bursting with the urge to run and kill, looking from her to the sounds filtering down to them, like hounds pulling on a leash.\n\nA bright light was glaring through the treeline. She drew a short-sword at her hip, felt more comfortable with it than the Starstone Sword, which she left in its scabbard, and barked a command. Her Ferals leaped into a sprint while she and her acolytes spread into a wider line after them, Arn and Elise either side of her. She heard the crash of Gunil and Claw somewhere behind."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then she was bursting from the treeline into a small clearing, snow swirling, obscuring her vision.\n\nThe snow was churned, a mess of hoof-and paw-prints, boots here and there.\n\nThey stopped here, to rest, water their mounts?\n\nFritha turned a circle, saw flickering pinpoints of firelight far below.\n\nGulla's work.\n\nGunil and his bear lumbered into the clearing, the giant holding his war-hammer across his lap.\n\n\"They're gone,\" he said.\n\nHe has a talent for stating the obvious.\n\nFritha gestured, and Arn and Elise spread wider, searching for tracks. Elise raised a hand. \"There.\" She pointed. She was fair-haired, like Fritha, and of a similar age, twenty-five summers. Arn said they looked like sisters, which may have been why they had become so close, so quickly. That and the grief they shared. Elise was small-framed, fragile-looking to someone who did not know her, but Fritha knew better, knew the strength in her sinewed frame, but more than that, her strength of mind, more determined than a huntsman's hound.\n\nSeeing your mother hung from a tree will focus the mind, or break it, Fritha thought.\n\nElise was pointing to bear-and hoof-prints that led into a stream, then continued on the far side back into the cover of trees, though the woodland grew thinner here.\n\nThere's still not much chance of tracking them from the skies in this snowstorm.\n\n\"With me,\" Fritha called, her Red Right Hand gathering around her. \"Gunil, Morn,\" she shouted. Thumping steps, a draught of wind, and Gunil and Morn joined her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The chase is on,\" Fritha said. \"They are running now, no thought for stealth. We are the wolven, they the elk, we shall run them to bay.\" She paused, looked again at the tracks of the bear. \"They're fleeing up, into the Bonefells, maybe hoping to lose us in the snarl of the wild. They are wrong.\" She gave a cold smile.\n\n\"Anseo,\" Fritha called, and the Ferals stopped in their sniffing and snuffling around the glade and loped over to her. One of them whined.\n\n\"Ah, my children,\" Fritha said, stroking one's gore-crusted jaw. \"You'll feast soon, on bear and horse and man-flesh. Now, though, we hunt.\"\n\nThe Feral threw its head back and howled, the others joining in. Then they were crashing across the stream, bounding after the tracks. Fritha lifted a hand and her acolytes followed.\n\n\"Gunil, Morn, wait,\" she said. \"Gunil, can you kill their bear? It bested you at the mine.\"\n\n\"Sig is dead.\" Gunil shrugged. \"We will kill it.\"\n\n\"You are both injured.\"\n\n\"We will kill it,\" he assured her.\n\n\"Good. Morn, stay close.\"\n\n\"I'll fly as I please, you wingless worm,\" Morn snarled.\n\n\"You'll fly close, or Gulla will hear of your recklessness and disobedience,\" Fritha said.\n\nMorn's face twisted, a curt nod. Her knees bent, and she launched into the air, though Fritha saw she stayed circling overhead."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Good.\n\n\"Now, let's finish this.\"\n\nFritha wiped sweat from her eyes and raised a fist, drawing to a halt, sucked in deep breaths and uncorked a water skin. Half a day they had been chasing Drem and his companions, ever up into the Bonefells, the tree-clad hillslopes shifting into narrow gullies, granite cliffs and shingle ridges. Her chest was heaving, legs burning with the exertion. She was no soft weakling-a lifetime of training on the weapons-field had honed her body to flint, and what had happened afterwards had honed her spirit to that same knife-edge hardness, but life with the Kadoshim was not one of outright military campaigns, and so her body was feeling the pace.\n\nNot everyday I try to outrun a Dun Seren war bear.\n\nBut they were gaining; drops of blood fresher, Fritha guessed from wounds sustained during the battle at the mine.\n\nThe ground was changing, rockier, less sure underfoot, so the fact that Drem and the other two were mounted was giving their quarry less of an advantage. The rocky terrain was also making it harder to track them, though.\n\nShe put two fingers to her lips and whistled, summoning her Ferals back to her. They seemed as fresh as when the day had begun.\n\nThe snow was lessening, glimpses of broken cloud and sky were appearing; the sun was sinking towards the horizon. Two paths stood before Fritha. A narrow ravine leading up into the mountains and a wider path that sloped downwards.\n\nMorn alighted upon a boulder.\n\n\"Report,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"They are in the ravine,\" Morn said. \"It runs for several leagues.\" Fritha had sent her ahead to scout the way, a test of Morn's new-found obedience."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And this path?\" Fritha asked, pointing at the one that sloped downhill. \"Can you reach the ravine's exit by following it?\"\n\n\"It drops back into woodland, but yes, you can reach the ravine's exit that way.\"\n\nGood. A flush of excitement.\n\n\"Take ten of my Ferals.\" Fritha called out names, summoning her most obedient children, the ones she knew would follow her orders, even when she was out of sight. \"You will have to move fast. Lead them to the ravine's exit, hold our prey there. We shall be close behind.\"\n\nFritha drew her short-sword, signalling for her followers to fan out behind her as she set off into the narrow ravine. Soon the Ferals with her began to behave oddly. They'd grown excited, started snapping and slavering, but now they were hanging back, following rather than leading.\n\nDrem, where are you?\n\nGranite cliffs reared to either side of her, the ravine narrowed so that only three or four men could walk abreast.\n\nIt's a good spot to make a stand, especially if you've a giant bear to fill the hole. They should be here, fighting, making use of this bottleneck. Of course, they are not to know that Morn and my Ferals will be creeping up and stabbing them in the back.\n\nBut there was no sign of them. There was little snow here, the arch of rocks keeping the ground clear, and no soil or foliage to search for evidence of their passing. Then she saw movement ahead, figures shifting around a boulder. Something about them looked wrong.\n\nFritha swore under her breath.\n\nThey are my Ferals."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were gathered around a shape, the distinct sound of flesh tearing echoing up the ravine to Fritha.\n\nThe outline of Morn appeared atop the boulder. In her grip she held the bridle of a horse.\n\nFritha ran forwards, trying to control the anger she felt that Morn and her Ferals had slain Drem and the others. She wanted him as a slave, or at least the pleasure of seeing him die. As she drew closer she saw her Ferals were gathered around two dead horses, their muzzles and claws red as they feasted.\n\nSomething's wrong. There's no bear, or people.\n\n\"Where are they?\" Fritha called up to Morn.\n\n\"I was about to ask you the same question,\" the half-breed called down to her.\n\n\"They are not here,\" Gunil pointed out.\n\nFritha cast him a dark look.\n\n\"Stake the horse,\" she ordered Morn. \"It will feed my Ferals later, but now we must continue our hunt.\"\n\n\"Anseo,\" she called, and the Ferals looked up from their feasting, muzzle-red. Some of them loped over to her, others went back to their meal.\n\n\"Laithreach,\" Fritha growled, and the others pulled themselves from the horses' carcasses, reluctantly joining Fritha.\n\nThey retraced their steps, Fritha's Ferals given the lead. Soon they came to a spot where the ravine wall was overgrown with scrub and brush, the dark gleam of granite behind. The Ferals started snapping and whining, one scrabbling into the brush. Arn and Elise stepped forwards; Elise used her spear to dig and pull at the undergrowth. It came away, revealing a boulder, barring the path into anew gully."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The huntsmen of Dun Seren,\" Arn said to her, \"always with a trick or two when you think they're finished.\"\n\n\"It won't save them,\" Fritha said. \"Their horses are gone, all of them are mounted upon the bear. How long can it carry them, wounded as it is?\"\n\nArn grunted his agreement.\n\n\"Morn,\" Fritha called, and the half-breed took to the air, winging over the boulder. Ina few heartbeats she was back.\n\n\"They went this way,\" Morn confirmed. \"Moved the boulder to block our path.\"\n\n\"Gunil,\" Fritha snapped.\n\nThe giant dismounted from Claw, gave a command as he put his shoulder to the boulder. His bear moved up alongside him, pushing into the boulder, dipping its neck and putting its weight against the rock.\n\nGiant and bear pushed together.\n\nNothing happened.\n\nVeins bulged in Gunil's neck, afresh bloom of blood appearing in the bandage about his shoulder. The bear shook, straining, its back legs scrabbling for purchase in loose stone.\n\nWith a grinding creak the boulder shifted, moved minutely.\n\nFritha ran to the rock, put her back against it, her acolytes following, Morn, too.\n\nThe boulder rolled free, up a gentle incline, then down a short slope, crushing shrubs and trees.\n\nAnew path opened before Fritha, this one leading down, twisting out of view in less than a hundred paces.\n\n\"On,\" she said, breaking into a run.\n\nA sound ahead, Fritha straining to hear over the pounding of blood in her head and the drum of feet around her. The new passage had bent and turned a downward path, opening up as they made their way into a valley between the mountains of the Bonefells. Somewhere ahead Fritha could hear the rush of water, which made other sounds difficult to distinguish, but there was something."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A shadow flitted across the ground: Morn, flying low.\n\n\"They are ahead, so close,\" the half-breed called down to her, turning a half-loop in the air, \"a quarter-league, no more.\"\n\nFritha picked up her pace.\n\nThe ground levelled, widening. Pine trees appeared, heavy with snow that gleamed bright in the low, sinking sun.\n\nNot much left of daylight. Must catch them now, I'll not stumble upon them in the dark and lose the advantage.\n\nAnother burst of speed, Ferals about her growling and snarling. Some were hanging back, unease appearing to pass amongst them. Fritha grunted a breathless encouragement to them.\n\nSoon, my children.\n\nBehind her she heard Claw rumble a growling protest, heard the rhythm of his stride falter, Gunil commanding the bear on.\n\nFatigue is affecting all of us.\n\nThe sound of a river grew closer, and then she saw them. A great bear, powering beneath high-boughed trees. It was limping, still moving at a staggering pace, but not the smooth rolling gait of a healthy beast. Figures were sitting upon it, one looked back, pale-faced and dark-haired, and saw her.\n\nDrem, it is so good to see you again. Perhaps I shall turn you into one of my Ferals, or let Gulla make a Revenant of you. If I can stop Morn from ripping your head from your shoulders, that is.\n\nShe grinned, her triumph so close she could almost taste it.\n\nThen she frowned and spat.\n\nWhat is that smell?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I can see them,\" Drem cried to Keld and Cullen, both men sitting in front of him upon the saddle on Hammer's back.\n\n\"Come on, Hammer,\" Drem breathed. But the bear was flagging beneath them, her strength fading. And there was something else, a hesitancy in her gait; she was casting her head about, taking in deep, snorting breaths.\n\nDrem looked around, saw only open-spread trees, the ground dense with a litter-bed of pine needles. They were deep into the Bonefells, now, but a region that Drem had never trapped in; Olin had always taken him north in the trapping season between spring and winter.\n\nAfoul smell hit the back of Drem's throat.\n\nHammer skidded to a halt, rearing and lowing. Keld, Cullen and Drem were thrown from the saddle. The soft spring of the needle litter that coated the frozen ground broke Drem's fall.\n\nHe climbed to his feet.\n\n\"What in the name of the Otherworld is that stench?\" Cullen spat.\n\nDrem looked about. Dimly through the trees behind them he saw the speeding approach of their pursuers, Ferals and men, behind them the silhouetted bulk of a giant bear.\n\nWe need to move.\n\nBut Hammer was standing, blowing great gouts of steaming breath. Another wave of the smell crawled into Drem's mouth, acrid and foul. They were in a wide clearing, dotted with a few thin-trunked trees, most of the snowstorm held at bay by the lattice of pine branches above them. The occasional snowflake drifted down. All around them were mounds. They were tall, not quite the height of a man, wide at the base and tapered. Some were gleaming with ice, frozen solid, but a few on the outskirts of the mounds were steaming. Drem walked close to one, saw something protruding from it, angular and sharp-edged. He looked closer, something shifting in his gut as he realized what it was."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A bone. A big one, that looks as if it belonged to an elk. This is the dunghill of a predator.\n\nCullen came and stood beside him, wrinkling his nose and prodding at the mound.\n\nI wouldn't do that, Drem thought.\n\nCullen's finger cracked the ice and a smell fouler than anything Drem had ever experienced, far worse than rotting meat or any tanner's chemical vat, escaped the mound and assaulted their senses, snaking into his mouth and nose like grasping fingers.\n\n\"Dear Elyon, no,\" Keld whispered. \"We have to get out of here.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Draigs.\"\n\nDraigs!\n\nDrem had heard of the great beasts, and every trapper had spoken or dreamed of catching and skinning one, but they were a thing of legend, a mythical beast that only the hardiest of heroes could slay, like Maquin Oathkeeper, hailed as the greatest warrior that fought in the War of Wrath. Drem had never thought there was much truth in the tales, and certainly the last draigs he'd heard of had been hunted and slain a hundred years ago. Serpents on legs, some called them, most vicious and deadly of the Banished Lands predators, and that was quite a crown to hold.\n\n\"Come on,\" Keld said, dragging at Cullen's arm.\n\nA shadow flitted across them. Drem, looking up, saw a blur swooping above them, leathery wings spread wide.\n\n\"There's no time,\" Drem cried, pointing at the half-breed, then gazing back into the trees.\n\nFerals were surging towards them, a dozen at least, only a few hundred paces away, and behind them were Kadoshim acolytes, shaven-haired and grim-eyed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Keld shared a look with Drem and Cullen, gave a short nod.\n\n\"This is it, then. Let's see how many of these bastards we can take across the bridge of swords with us,\" he growled. \"With me.\" He ran to Hammer's side, unstrapping along linen bag, pulling a bow of ash from it, reaching inside a pocket fora bowstring. In heartbeats the bow was strung. With a hiss, Cullen's sword was in his fist and he was taking around shield from where it was hung upon Hammer's harness, the white, four-pointed star, sigil of the Order of the Bright Star, painted upon it. He slung it across his back, pulled the leather buckles tight, offered another shield to Drem.\n\n\"I've never used a shield,\" Drem said.\n\n\"I'll teach you when we get back to Dun Seren.\"\n\nWe both know that's not going to happen. Drem resisted the urge to say it out loud, knew that it would not be the most encouraging thing right now. Instead he put a hand to his neck, finding the reassuring beat of his pulse.\n\nKeld had laid out a handful of arrows on the ground before him. He crouched down, drew a knife across the palm of his hand and clenched a fist, blood welling between his fingers.\n\n\"Cnámha an domhain, tabhair dom do neart,\" he intoned, letting his blood drip upon the arrowheads.\n\nThe steel seemed to shimmer and ripple, and then Keld was standing, one of the arrows nocked. He drew and loosed, almost straight up. There was a shriek as the half-breed swerved, the arrow grazing her wing. She twisted in the air and rose, disappearing into the treetop canopy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Keld didn't wait, had nocked and loosed at the pack of Ferals swarming towards them, only a hundred paces away now. His arrow pierced one's belly, punching out through the creature's back and hurtling on, slamming into another Feral's shoulder, hurling it against a tree, where the arrow sunk deep, almost up to its fletching, pinning the Feral.\n\nThat's impossible, Drem thought.\n\nThe first Feral, with a hole in its belly, stood and stared, then slumped to its knees.\n\nHammer growled beside them, huge claws raking the ground.\n\n\"Hold, lass,\" Cullen whispered to her.\n\nFifty paces away.\n\nDrem drew his seax and a hand-axe, thought about using his father's sword, but his seax felt comfortable in his hand, and the memory of his father's runes carved upon it helped to steady his beating heart.\n\nI would have liked to learn to use Da's sword. Maybe I will.\n\nIf I livelong enough.\n\nKeld drew and loosed, an arrow slamming into a Feral's shoulder and on out of its back, sending the creature crashing to the ground. It regained its feet and ran at them. Drem saw the one with an arrow-hole in its belly was back on its feet, staggering towards them.\n\nNot a comforting sight. They are hard to kill.\n\nTwenty paces.\n\nAnother arrow, this one finding the throat of an acolyte. He fell backwards in a spray of blood.\n\nKeld dropped the bow and drew his sword and axe, rolled his shoulders.\n\nCullen laughed.\n\n\"Stay close tome, lad,\" Cullen said to Drem as he set his feet."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I wish he'd stop calling me lad.\n\n\"Truth and Courage,\" Keld and Cullen bellowed, Hammer roaring, and the two warriors ran at the onrushing enemy. Drem stood a moment, hesitating, fear squirming in his belly. Drem was no coward but he knew this was likely to be the time and place of his death.\n\nI don't want to die.\n\nThen he saw Fritha, deep amidst her acolytes, and behind her the looming shape of a bear, a giant upon its back.\n\nMy father's murderers. Sig's killers.\n\nFear shifted to anger.\n\nBellowing a wordless cry, he ran after his comrades.\n\nKeld and Cullen crashed into the Ferals, a sword-swing from Cullen sending ahead twirling through the air, blood jetting from the severed stump. Keld was slicing and stabbing, ducking and spinning, constant motion, and then Drem was amidst it all. A Feral came at him, all red jaws and yellow fangs, and without thinking he knocked raking claws away with his axe and stabbed his seax into the man-beast's mouth, the point bursting out through the back of its neck, severing its spine. Blood erupted as Drem ripped his blade free, the Feral collapsing, twitching.\n\nA blow to his side, sending him reeling, a moment to register it was an acolyte that had fallen into him, a woman with hair shaved to her scalp, a deep wound in her thigh, from Keld or Cullen, he did not know. Drem hesitated, weapons raised, and she stabbed at him with a spear. He jumped back and she followed, favouring her wounded leg, short stabs at his chest and belly sending him reeling, one slicing along his side, cutting through fur and leather, grazing his ribs. He swung his axe wildly, connected with the shaft, hacking the spear-point off. The acolyte snarled and swung the spear like a staff, Drem ducking, chopping into her knee with his axe, stabbing up with his seax as she dropped, the blade punching into her belly, blood hot and sticky, gushing over his gloved fist, leaking under the sleeve of his wool tunic. He shoved the dying woman away, stood over her corpse, gasping deep breaths, looked for Fritha."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hammer roared, joining the fray, a sweep of her paw sending men and Ferals flying, one Feral impaled upon a tree branch. Another claw-swing sliced through an acolyte's belly, a slither of intestines falling about his feet. Screaming. Then the other bear was there, the giant upon its back, acolytes and Ferals leaping aside to allow it to get to Hammer.\n\nThe two bears met with a resounding thud, the ground shaking, teeth clashing, claws lacerating. Hammer crouched under a blow from the bear, swiping one paw up like a pugilist's upper-cut, claws raking across the other bear's neck, her jaws lunging, sinking into her adversary's head. A roar of pain from the creature.\n\nHammer's as fierce and battle-skilled as Sig.\n\nBut Sig wasn't upon Hammer's back.\n\nThe giant swung his war-hammer. With a sickening crunch it smashed into Hammer's shoulder and she released the bear's head to bellow her pain. She snapped at the giant, but he was swaying back out of reach, bringing his hammer high for another blow. His bear swiped at Hammer, sending her stumbling backwards, her leg giving way where the giant had struck her. She collapsed to the ground, crushing an acolyte in her fall, a great explosion of pine needles and forest litter.\n\nDrem tried to get to Hammer, slashed at an acolyte in his way, sliced a Feral across its hamstring, but there were too many between him and Sig's bear. He cast about wildly, hoping that Cullen or Keld would reach her, protect her.\n\nHe caught a glimpse of Keld, the huntsman beset by a handful of Ferals and acolytes. Even as Drem watched, he saw Keld draw his blade across his palm, hurling a fistful of his own blood at the swarming enemy before him."
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"value": "What is he doing?\n\n\"Fola demo chorp, a bheith tine, sruthán mo naimhde,\" Keld bellowed, and as his blood splattered across faces and torsos it hissed and burst into tiny sparks of flame. Ferals and acolytes fell away screaming, the stench of scorched flesh filling the glade.\n\nKeld stood there, enemies writhing in agony about his feet, and then to Drem's horror he saw a Feral leap upon Keld from behind, both of them going down, the Feral's claws slashing, arcs of blood in the air. They rolled. As they stopped, the Feral was on top, rearing back with its misshapen jaws wide, claws rising. Keld lay still upon the ground.\n\n\"Keld!\" Drem yelled, trying to carve away to the huntsman, but there were too many between them.\n\n\"CULLEN!\" Drem bellowed. \"Keld is down.\"\n\nCullen was close, beset by five or six attackers, using his knife like a shield, his sword leaving bloody arcs. His eyes flickered to Drem, but then he was staggering, defending against a barrage of blows.\n\nA slate-grey blur caught Drem's eye, speeding through the melee: Fen the wolven-hound hurling himself at the Feral upon Keld, its claws held high, blood upon them. With a snarling howl, Fen slammed into the Feral, both of them rolling away, the wolven-hound on top, pinning the thrashing creature down, jaws finding the throat. A savage wrench and blood jetted, the Feral's feet drumming on the ground. Fen leaped back to the prone form of Keld, stood over him protectively, crouched, teeth bared in a bloody snarl."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The giant and his bear approached Hammer. She was trying to regain her feet, but the bear pounded her with a paw, Hammer's leg giving way again, sending her tumbling back to the ground. The bear stood over her, the giant upon its back hefting his war-hammer.\n\nDrem swept a sword away with his seax, chopped hard into the head of his attacker, denting the iron cap upon the acolyte's head, who collapsed bonelessly, then Drem charged, barrelled into a knot of acolytes pressing about Cullen, sending a handful of them flying, and saw open space between him and Hammer.\n\nThe giant upon his bear's back was raising his war-hammer.\n\nA hot pain across Drem's back and he was thrown forwards, onto his knees. He twisted, saw a Feral standing over him with blood dripping from its claws.\n\nWithout thinking, Drem twisted, kicking at the creature's ankles, saw it stumble, at the same time he was rising, stabbing with his seax, piercing the Feral's eye, its momentum as it fell driving the long knife deep until Drem felt the tip grate on the back of the beast's skull.\n\nHe shoved the twitching creature away, swivelled on his feet and threw his axe.\n\nIt struck the giant bear in the chest, sinking deep, the blade disappearing. The bear reared onto its back legs, roaring, the giant on its back thrown from his saddle, vanishing from sight. The bear crashed back to all fours, bellowed a challenge at Drem.\n\nI'm coming, Hammer.\n\nThere was a blow across Drem's back, a flare of pain lancing through the wound the Feral had just given him, a face full of pine needles as he stumbled and fell. Something was gripping his cloak, pulling him, lifting him."
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"value": "His feet left the ground and he was rising, above the battle, an aerial view showing the carnage painted in blood and gore.\n\n\"This is for my brother,\" a voice grated in his ear.\n\nDrem took a moment to register the strength that had lifted him high into the air. He squirmed, his cloak knotting in the half-breed's fist. Red-hot pain seared along his waist as a knife-thrust that had been intended for his kidneys scored a red line. Another twist and he was facing the half-breed, his face so close to hers he could smell her stale breath. Her eyes blazed their hatred at him and her fist drew back for another stab of her knife.\n\nDrem jerked with his seax, blocking the blade, and headbutted the half-breed across the bridge of her flat nose. Blood and cartilage burst, spattering his face, and the half-breed reeled back, wings sagging.\n\nHe headbutted her again, harder, saw her eyes rollback into her head, her wings folding, her grip upon his cloak going slack and he fell away from her, saw her begin a slow plummet back to the ground.\n\nThen he realized he was falling, too.\n\nA moment of weightlessness and panic as he spun his arms, saw the ground rushing up to him. He landed on Hammer, fur and flesh breaking his fall. She was trying to rise again, the other bear advancing on her, the giant nowhere to be seen.\n\nDrem rolled off Hammer, still gripping his seax. He shifted it to his left hand and, drawing his father's sword, set his feet between Hammer and the other bear.\n\nBlood sluiced down its chest, soaking its fur from Hammer's claw-gouges and Drem's axe, though the wounds had not gone deep enough, not reached any vital organ. It opened its jaws and roared at him, spittle flying, the power of it sending him staggering back apace."
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "He shook his head and set his feet again.\n\n\"Come on, then, death,\" he snarled at the bear, \"but I'll give you a scar or two to remember me by.\"\n\nTwo figures stepped around the bear: the giant, raising a hand and giving a command to the bear, and beside him, Fritha.\n\nSomething in Drem stirred at the sight of her, fair-haired, a scattering of freckles beneath the blue eyes that stared only at him. A memory of how she'd made him feel, before. A bearskin cloak was thrown back across her shoulders, dark-boiled leather armour covering her torso. She held a short-sword in her hand, dripping red.\n\nWhose blood is that? Which of my friends?\n\nHe saw the Starstone Sword scabbarded at her waist, had a vivid memory of how she had taken it, of kneeling beside his father in the snow, holding his da's hand as he coughed blood.\n\nHe took an involuntary step towards her, checked himself.\n\nFritha looked at his stance, sword held high, seax low.\n\n\"Scorpion's tail andiron gate combined,\" Fritha said with amusement. \"Your new friend's teaching you the sword dance?\" Drem said nothing. \"Come with me, I can teach you more than those blind idiots at the Order.\"\n\n\"Step a little closer,\" Drem said, \"and I'll show you what they've taught me.\"\n\n\"I offered,\" Fritha said. \"Either way you're coming back with me; of your own will or in chains.\"\n\n\"There's a third option,\" Drem said and lunged with his sword."
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"value": "Fritha swept Drem's lunge away, the calculating part of her mind noting how he overextended as he lunged, but at the same time she saw him check and adjust his balance, a natural shifting of his feet and legs that showed him to be a natural fighter, and she knew that in time he would make a skilled swordsman.\n\nIf he were given the chance to learn.\n\nShe was annoyed with herself. Why had she just offered him the chance of joining her, when he had already spurned her once? She'd had every intention of crushing him and dragging him back to Gulla as a prize. But there had been something in his eyes as she'd approached him, just fora moment. It had reminded her of the way he had looked at her once, all innocence and trust, that she had found so endearing and fascinating. Fora heartbeat it had taken her back to another time, the time before, when life was not all about the dark beating heart of revenge. That look in Drem's eyes had faded in a flash, though-if it had ever been thereat all-replaced by something all too well known to her.\n\nBlame and hatred.\n\nWho is he to judge me?\n\nShe strode at him, swayed as he chopped down at her with his sword, parried the stab of his seax and stepped in close, within his guard, elbowing him in the mouth and sending him reeling.\n\nShe paused a moment, pointed her short-sword at Drem's heart, then followed after him, saw the flicker of his eyes that betrayed his next move, caught his sword-strike on her blade, sparks grating as she rotated her wrist, cutting his forearm, and he cried out, dropping the sword. He swung at her with his seax, but she caught the blow easily, deflected it wide and countered, cutting a red line across Drem's chest. He stumbled backwards, tripped and fell. She kicked him in the gut, put a boot on his chest and levelled her sword at his throat."
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"value": "\"Chains it is, then,\" she said.\n\nA deafening roar filled the woodland.\n\nFritha paused, looked up. She'd heard a lot of roaring this past day, mostly from giant bears, and that was loud enough to rattle her brain in her skull. But this sound was different. Not a bear. For one thing, it was louder, which didn't give her much comfort. There was also an edge to it that set the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.\n\nShe looked about the clearing. Everyone who was still standing within it was frozen, like her, searching for the origin of such a terrible sound.\n\nThen she saw it. A monstrous shape emerging from the shadows. It was huge, not quite as tall as Claw, but wider and longer. It was serpentine, reminiscent of the lizards Fritha had seen sunning themselves in the south, but a thousand times bigger, with green-brown mottled skin, like a snake's. Its belly was low to the ground, set upon four immensely powerful bowed legs, splayed feet with claws like the curved swords the Horse Clans of Arcona wielded. Along, wide tail swayed behind its bulk, but Fritha's eyes were drawn to its head. Abroad, flat skull, its muzzle long with a square-tipped jaw full of razored teeth that dripped with thick saliva or ichor. Its eyes were small and black, gleaming with a primal fury.\n\nIs that a draig?\n\nSpiders crawled down her spine.\n\nThe creature paused, surveying them all, petty intruders within its realm. It opened its vast jaws and roared again, trees and branches shaking, setting the ground to trembling, vibrations passing into Fritha's boots, up her legs."
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"value": "Then it charged.\n\nFor something so vast and squat it was incredibly fast, surging forwards on its muscular legs, scythe-like claws sending great gouts of snow and earth arcing into the air.\n\nFora timeless moment Fritha was frozen, fear and awe immobilizing her.\n\nDrem shifted beneath her, his arm knocking her boot off his chest, sending her stumbling away. He leaped to his feet, pushed her hard in the chest and she crashed to the ground, rolling in the pine needles.\n\nAnd then the draig was between them, a surging leviathan of muscle. It barrelled into a knot of Fritha's acolytes, sent them careening through the air, powerful jaws clamping upon one, a ripple of its sinuous neck muscles and her acolyte was severed in two, only his legs and hips remaining.\n\n\"TOME!\" Fritha yelled, staggering to her feet, unsure if anyone had heard her, her natural instinct to order the shield wall, but she'd commanded that all shields be left behind on this hunt through the wild, thought it was unnecessary weight that would have slowed them down.\n\nArn and Elise ran to her; a handful more joined them.\n\nThe draig's head snapped around, eyes fixing upon something. Fritha saw it was the wolven-hound that stood over the form of Drem's companion.\n\nThe huntsman of the group, that is how the Order of the Bright Star work: always a captain, a huntsman with wolven-hounds, and a few fresh warriors.\n\nThe huntsman was moving sluggishly, the wolven-hound crouched over him, snarling and snapping at the draig."
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"value": "The draig clearly didn't like that challenge to its supremacy. It broke into its scuttling run, Fritha's acolytes frantically leaping aside as it charged. Fritha felt a jolt of shock when she saw that the wolven-hound did not bolt and flee like everything else in the draig's path. Instead it gathered its legs beneath it and burst into a run at the draig, not away. Bounding and leaping, the wolven-hound twisted in the air, avoiding the gaping mouth with snapping jaws by a hair's breadth, skidding along the draig's head, its claws raking from muzzle to skull, finding purchase, the wolven-hound's fangs sinking deep into the draig's neck. It hung there, back legs scrabbling, ripping bloody rents in the draig's scaly skin.\n\nThe draig bellowed, head whipping round, jaws snapping, trying to reach its assailant, tail lashing in its pain and rage, crushing the ribs of an acolyte unfortunate enough to be in its trajectory.\n\nA savage shake of the draig's body, and with a tearing and rending of flesh, the wolven-hound's fang's tore free from the draig's neck, the creature swiping a claw at the hound as it fell through the air, punching it flying, crunching into a tree. The crackle of breaking bones. The wolven-hound whined, fell to the ground and did not move.\n\nThe draig cast its head about for its next victim.\n\nAn ear-splitting roar and Claw was lumbering to attack. The two beasts came together like a thunderclap, the force of it knocking men and women from their feet. Bear and draig slashed, raked and bit atone another, their vast bulks heaving, straining, claws gouging bloody streaks through fur and scale and flesh, jaws seeking purchase, snapping, biting. Claw cried in pain, staggering back, blood leaking from a myriad of wounds, the draig mercilessly ploughing forwards, a strike of its claws across the bear's head sending it crashing to the ground."
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"value": "Gunil bellowed a challenge and charged, his war-hammer swinging in a loop, crunching into the draig's ribs, the sound of splintering bone, a scream from the draig, its tail whipping at Gunil, sending him reeling, clutching his side.\n\n\"TOME, TOME!\" Fritha screamed over and over as she lurched into motion, knew that one by one the draig would defeat them all.\n\nAs she broke into a run her Ferals gathered about her, only a handful of them still living. Arn, Elise and a few others were already with her. Others, hearing her call, came stumbling and staggering as they approached the draig.\n\nClaw was back on his feet, growling, a heavy paw-strike lashing the draig's head. Gunil staggered back into the fray, swung his hammer, howling with the pain it caused him, and crunched it into one of the draig's clawed feet, pulping flesh.\n\nFritha barked a command and her Ferals swept forwards, some leaping onto the draig's flanks, clawing and biting, others slinking under the vast bulk of its belly, raking, teeth sinking into meat. Her acolytes spread wide, some with spears stabbing, drawing blood, others darting in with swords, slashing, stabbing, leaping away. Fritha sheathed her short-sword, drew the Starstone Sword and slashed with it, leaving a black, smoking line of charred flesh across the draig's flank.\n\nThe draig roared its frustration as Fritha and her crew worried at it like a wolven pack bringing down an elk. But it was not dead yet. A swipe of claws disembowelled a Feral. An adder-like dart of its head, and the draig snatched up an acolyte who had lingered too long to attack, eviscerating her with a shake of its powerful neck. Elise and Arn stabbed with spears, and it spun to face them, Arn leaping away from a swipe of its scythe-like claws, Elise stumbling, trying to protect herself with her spear, the draig smashing it to kindling, hurling Elise like a straw doll through the air."
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"value": "And then a winged shape swooped from above: Morn, sword in her fist, alighting upon the draig's back, between its shoulder blades. She set her feet, raised her sword high and stabbed down, the blade sinking deep.\n\nThe draig bellowed in agony, reared up, Morn's wings beating, somehow managing to keep her balanced atop the writhing draig, and she twisted her sword ever deeper. Acolytes and Ferals rushed in at the creature's exposed belly, stabbing, slashing, Gunil and Claw pounding at the draig with powerful blows.\n\nWith one last roar, the draig toppled onto its side, claws lashing out, taking the head from another acolyte. Morn appeared upon it, wrenched her sword free, stabbed in a frenzy, arcs of blood. Fritha stepped in, set her feet and swung her sword, opening up a huge wound upon its belly, blood and intestines spilling out, a stench erupting, sending Fritha reeling.\n\nOne last shudder, a strangled growl, and the draig died.\n\nA sudden silence followed, punctuated by Fritha's ragged breaths, the groans of the injured, then Claw roared his victory.\n\n\"Fritha.\" A choking breath.\n\nShe cast about, saw Arn kneeling beside Elise, cradling her. Fritha ran to them, knelt beside her friends, saw tears in Arn's eyes.\n\nElise was deathly white, one arm shattered, her leg twisted in an unnatural angle, and bone protruding from her side, her ribs smashed. The acolyte coughed, speckles of blood stark and vivid on her too-pale chin."
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"value": "\"Help her,\" Arn said.\n\nFritha checked Elise over, knew what Arn was asking of her.\n\nThe earth magic. Words of power.\n\nFritha looked into Arn's eyes. \"You know I am no adept, my knowledge is limited-\"\n\nHe grabbed her wrist. \"It's Elise. Just try. Help her, please.\"\n\nAlong breath sucked in.\n\nThen another thought broke through her worry for Elise.\n\nWhere's Drem?\n\n\"Staunch the bleeding and clean her wounds,\" Fritha said, standing. \"I will be back soon, will do what I can.\"\n\nShe looked about wildly, couldn't see him, saw that the Order's huntsman was no longer sprawled upon the ground.\n\nWhere's the bear?\n\n\"FIND THEM!\" she screamed, searching the glade, saw the dead scattered everywhere, the tall dunghill mounds, but no Drem, no bear, no warriors of the Order. Her Ferals loped away, but there were so many overpowering scents that they seemed confused, bounding off indifferent directions.\n\n\"This way,\" a voice cried from above. Morn was swooping through branches, heading away from the battleground, west.\n\nFritha followed, found that she was limping, a pain in her leg, and saw a gash through her leather breeks, blood leaking. She ignored it.\n\nThe roar of a river growing louder. A shape moving in the distance.\n\nSig's bear.\n\nShe used her last strength to reach the riverbank, a handful of acolytes running past her, flitting through the trees ahead.\n\nAn explosion of water, falling upon her acolytes like a wave, scattered them like leaves."
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"value": "Fifty paces and Fritha was with them, staring past them.\n\nA wide river roared and foamed, turbulent with snow and spinning broken sheets of ice, floating like icy rafts upon the waters. She saw the bear in the water, two people clinging to it, another lying sprawled upon one of the ice-sheets. Within heartbeats the river had sped them all around a bend, out of view.\n\nHer eyes searched for paths, saw that in a few hundred paces the shallow bank she was stood upon gave way to rearing granite cliffs. The only way to follow them was to leap into the river.\n\nFritha shrieked her frustration to the sky.\n\nSo close. I was so close. And I cannot return to Gulla empty-handed. My position is not so secure that failure will not damage it. There are many others willing and waiting to take my place.\n\n\"They have escaped us,\" Gunil said behind her.\n\nThat's not helpful. She resisted the urge to turnaround and stab the giant.\n\n\"For now,\" she muttered.\n\n\"Fritha,\" Gunil said to her. She tore her eyes away from the bend in the river where Drem had disappeared.\n\n\"What?\" she snapped, looking over her shoulder to seethe giant looming over her. She had not heard his approach, which was worrying.\n\nBreathe. Focus. This is not over yet; there are many leagues between here and Dun Seren.\n\n\"You should see this,\" the giant said to her, and without waiting, turned and walked back into the woods. She noticed he favoured one leg, and his right arm was held tucked tight to his ribs. Her leg throbbed, and she paused to cut a strip of cloth from her cloak and tie it high, above the wound. She counted heads as she followed Gunil back to the clearing, was appalled at the result. Thirteen of her Ferals still standing, sixteen of her Red Right Hand, though she would be hard-pressed to find one unharmed from their battles."
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"value": "Little more than a score left, when fifty of us set out after three men, a bear, a hound and a crow. She ground her teeth in anger.\n\nArn had carried Elise to the edge of the clearing, laid her down with the other injured where the healers amongst them were doing what they could.\n\nI will join them soon, do what I can.\n\nThe draig lay with the dead scattered about it. Fritha walked to it, ran a gloved finger along the line of its jaw, traced a curved fang.\n\nOh, how I wish we could have captured you, taken you back to Gulla in a cage. The creatures I could have fashioned from your flesh. But I need life to fashion life, not dead, butchered meat and congealed blood.\n\nSome of her men were already seeing to the butchering, skinning and finishing off the gutting of the dead beast, cutting claws from its feet, extracting teeth from its jaws.\n\nWe need these trophies, else no one would ever believe us.\n\nDeep wounds raked one side of the draig's head, puncture wounds a little further along on its neck, inflicted by the wolven-hound. Fritha remembered it standing over the Order's huntsman, protecting him, hurling itself at the draig.\n\nSuch fierce loyalty... She shook her head. I want that, need that.\n\n\"This way,\" Gunil said, leading Fritha on, past the dunghills, deeper into the trees. They dropped into a small gully, with banks rearing either side of them, thick with knotted tree-roots. Gunil paused at the entrance to a cave, tore a strip of linen from the tunic beneath his leather vest, wrapped it around the butt-end of his war-hammer and struck sparks with striking iron and flint."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Holding the makeshift torch aloft, he strode into the cave, revealing a tunnel that sloped gently downwards."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was tall and wide; Gunil did not need to duck his head. Fritha followed, the smell stale and unpleasant, but better than the dunghills. Torchlight flickered on uneven walls, thick ridges scoured into hard-packed earth, and Fritha realized they were made by draig-claws.\n\nThis was its den.\n\nA little further on and the tunnel opened into a wider chamber. Something crunched under Fritha's feet: bones, a carpet of them as thick as the pine needle litter above ground. Some smaller-badgers, foxes-others much larger, elk, what resembled a bear. She spied other shapes amidst the bones, occasionally a human skull. A ribcage here, spine there, another creature, a large skull with long canines. Fritha recognized the anatomy of a wolven; she'd carved enough of them up, fused them into something else. They strode on, towards a shadowy shape at the centre of the room.\n\nGunil and Fritha stood before it, Gunil raising his torch high. At first glance Fritha thought it was ahead, not yet fully decomposed, but as she stooped to see it better she saw it was too symmetrical, devoid of mouth, eyes, jaws. Roughly oval in shape, there were colours swirling across it, hues rippling, like inks spilt into water.\n\nFritha felt a smile spreading over her face, the sense of frustration and defeat that had settled upon her like a shroud suddenly lifted, evaporating.\n\n\"A draig's egg,\" she said into the darkness."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda sat on his horse, staring ahead at the warriors marching on foot in front of him. Threescore White-Wings, all polished leather and bright steel. Colossal trees reared high on either side of the narrow road, branches looping and latticing above them. He twisted in his saddle and looked back over his shoulder, saw another two score of the black-and-silver clothed warriors marching behind. Shadows flitted across him, shapes skimming along the road they were following and, looking up, he saw Ben-Elim circling high above, yet still beneath the canopy of Forn's great trees.\n\nHe drew in along, slow breath, mastering the emotions that were roiling within him: anger and fear, confusion and revulsion, as well as the fatigue and sense of sorrow that he'd noticed settled over him after a battle, the knowledge that lives had been snuffed out, men and women that he had talked with, eaten with-suddenly gone. It left a hollow place within him. And of course, there was Kol and the Ben-Elim.\n\nThey say we are pardoned, welcomed back into the arms of the Faithful, but I feel more like a prisoner being marched to my execution. And no one asked me if I wanted to be welcomed back.\n\nHe had sat outside the woodsman's hut when Riv had been hauled inside, as stunned as the rest of them by Aphra's revelation.\n\nRiv is Kol's daughter.\n\nObviously, he had known that one of the Ben-Elim washer father, but Kol! He did not know how he felt about that.\n\nBleda and the others had laid down their weapons. Bleda had no heart to fight on with Riv a prisoner, fearing what Kol might do to her, and he knew that continuing to fight was futile-they were too outnumbered-so he'd chosen to save the lives of his surviving bondsmen. Only three of his ten guards still lived, and Old Ellac, who seemed immortal. The dead had been buried beneath cairns back at the woodsman's hut, alongside over a dozen Ben-Elim and White-Wings."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Vald and Jost rode with Bleda, Ellac and his three men, which surprised Bleda a little. He'd thought they would be back marching with the White-Wings, especially as it was Aphra's hundred, the very unit that Vald and Jost had trained with all of their lives. To see them riding alongside his men was another reminder that so much had changed, that life was abruptly, unalterably, different, and he was clearly not the only one to feel that way.\n\nJost had a wide bandage wrapped around his head, dried blood crusting on it. He was swaying a little in his saddle, and not just because he was a poor rider; he was still concussed from the blow to his head, a clump from the butt-end of a Ben-Elim's spear that had bled for half a day.\n\nWhen Bleda had seen Kol stride into the woodsman's hut he had thought the end must be close, his hand finding the secret dagger hidden in his boot, though he hadn't really known what he was going to do with it.\n\nSave Riv, kill Kol, maybe. Or at least try. Or kill myself, rather than let Kol have the pleasure.\n\nI am surprised that any of us are still alive.\n\nIt had been along time later that Kol had emerged, and Bleda had been stunned to see Riv walking out into the glade with him. Riv had stood with her head down while Kol had made a speech about the time for bloodletting and vengeance being over, and as the new Lord Protector he wanted to build anew world of peace and harmony. He would start that right now, by forgiving and absolving Riv and her companions of any wrongdoing.\n\nBleda had almost fallen over with shock."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "While Kol spoke, Bleda had looked only at Riv, tried to catch her eye. He saw that she had a wound on her shoulder, freshly stitched, and that she was clenching her right hand into a fist, blood welling from between her fingers, dripping on the ground.\n\nWhen did that happen?\n\nOnly once had Riv looked at him, when Kol had been speaking of forgiveness and moving on together, and she had nodded at him, as if agreeing with Kol's words. And urging him to agree, also.\n\nWhat happened in that hut? How can she be going along with this? She was going to Drassil to kill Kol, and now she is making peace with him. Is it part of some plan, or is it because Kol is her father? Has that changed how she feels about him? He slew Dalmae, is a murderer.\n\nHe felt confused, angry, bewildered, and deeply worried for Riv.\n\nFeeling and recognizing all these emotions now, he had come to the strange realization that for the last moon or so, he had been... happy.\n\nDespite the shock of Kol's coup and the flight in the dead of night into the endless twilight of Forn, despite living in a woodsman's hut, shorn of the comfort and luxuries that being a prince, even if he was award of the Ben-Elim, had given him. It had been along time since he had felt able to relax his cold-face, to allow his feelings to emerge from the depths where he kept them so well controlled and hidden. And he knew there was a reason for that.\n\nRiv.\n\nSomehow, she had managed to pick, chip and bore a hole through his guard, fracturing his protective shield. He felt as if he had stepped out from a dark place into the light of the sun."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And now it was over, his cold-face shifting back into place, but beneath it emotions boiled, foremost of all worry for his friend.\n\nWhere is Riv?\n\nHe searched the skies, looked front and back again, but could not see her.\n\nAnd now they were going back to Drassil, five or six days'travel through Forn before they would seethe giant walls of the Banished Lands\" greatest fortress. It was not a sight that Bleda was looking forward to.\n\nA horn blast rang out. Aphra was standing at the head of their column, a fist raised, the signal to make camp for the night. They rippled to a halt and then two winged shapes flew over Bleda and his companions: Kol and Riv. They alighted in a swirl of leaves beside Aphra.\n\nRiv did not so much as glance at Bleda or her friends.\n\nDarkness, as thick and dense as a wall, loomed about Bleda. He was sitting beside afire with Ellac, as well as his three guards: a man named Tuld, taller than was common amongst the Sirak, and two women, Ruga and Mirim, sisters whom Bleda struggled to tell apart. All had injuries from the fight at the hut, but most of them were superficial, only Mirim having a deeper wound in her thigh. Ruga was checking on it now, cleaning it with boiled water that had been left to cool. All three of them were shaven-haired, apart from the long braids that marked them as Sirak warriors.\n\nBleda was tending to his bow, fora moment lost in the memory of its making, so long ago; his brother had helped him craft the weapon. It was one of his most treasured memories, recalling a time when the world seemed stable and solid, and also exciting, with so much promise for his future, and he had been sure of his place within it. He remembered his brother's voice, teaching him to sand the sturgeon glue with rough sharkskin, his brother's arm around his shoulders, the both of them laughing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But now he is dead.\n\nNow, all was influx.\n\nHe could not just go back to Drassil and resume the life he had been leading; it felt impossible. His eyes searched out Kol, sitting at a campfire with a handful of his Ben-Elim and some of Aphra's White-Wings. Kol was drinking from a skin, laughing.\n\nHe is king, now, the Lord Protector of the Banished Lands. The man who slew my brother and sister, and shamed my mother. He has slain Israfil, slain Riv's kin, and yet he sits there drinking and laughing.\n\n\"What do you think has happened to the rest of my honour guard?\" Bleda asked.\n\nEllac had led one hundred Sirak warriors from Arcona to Drassil as Bleda's personal honour guard, and only ten of them had been about him on the chaotic night that he had saved Riv from the madness of Kol's coup. It was those ten warriors who had accompanied him into Forn Forest, and now seven of them were dead.\n\nYour sacrifice will not be forgotten.\n\n\"Who can say what Kol has done with them?\" Ellac shrugged.\n\nBleda felt a dark mood settling upon him, struggled to stop it from showing. He mourned the loss of his guards, felt the weight of responsibility for their deaths.\n\n\"Ellac, Ruga, Tuld, Mirim,\" he said, and they all looked at him.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"For what?\" Ruga asked, frowning.\n\n\"For keeping your oaths, for standing with me.\"\n\nEllac snorted. The other three were looking at Bleda with quizzical looks."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are our prince, and we are oathsworn to you,\" Tuld said, as if that explained everything.\n\n\"Aye, and Erdene would take our right hands if we failed you,\" Ruga said, a fleeting smile wrinkling her cold-face.\n\nShe probably would.\n\n\"You are brave and loyal,\" Bleda said, \"and I will not forget it.\"\n\nFootsteps. Bleda, looking up, fire-blind fora moment, saw two forms approaching, both tall, one thin, one broad.\n\n\"Mind if we join you?\" Vald said.\n\nBleda looked up at them. \"Of course not,\" he said, shuffling to make room for them around the fire.\n\n\"Why are you not with your people?\" Ellac asked.\n\n\"Doesn't feel right,\" Jost said. \"We've been trained as White-Wings, but today was the first real battle we've seen, fought in, and we stood with you, not them. You stood with us, against them. That should mean something, not be forgotten.\"\n\n\"Kol your Lord Protector said that enmity was all behind us,\" Ellac said. Bleda saw he was staring keenly at the two young men.\n\n\"A world of difference between saying something and it being real,\" Vald muttered.\n\n\"There is,\" Ellac said flatly.\n\nA shifting in the air, an unseen wind, and then dark shapes were descending, solid shadows dropping out of the night, taking form.\n\nKol, a few Ben-Elim with him, and Riv. Bleda felt a lurch in his chest at the sight of her. They alighted at the edge of Bleda's firelight, shadow and flame casting them in hues of red and black."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv stood a step behind Kol, her eyes taking in Vald and Jost with Bleda and his guard, meeting Bleda's gaze fora lingering moment, then looking away.\n\n\"A token to prove that I mean what I say,\" Kol said. He gestured a hand, and one of the Ben-Elim stepped forwards, carrying a heavy bundle in his arms, wrapped in a wool cloak. He dropped it on the ground before Bleda, and weapons spilt out-the curved swords of the Sirak, knives, quivers of arrows, spears. Vald and Jost's short-swords were there, too. The weapons that had been confiscated after the fight at the cabin.\n\n\"Take them back, wear them freely,\" Kol said. \"A sign both of my forgiveness for your past deeds, and of the trust I am giving you, for the future.\" His eyes flitted to Riv, then back to Bleda and his companions.\n\nIs this for Riv's benefit? I do not trust him.\n\nNevertheless, Bleda stepped forwards and picked out his quiver and arrows, his weapons-belt with scabbarded sword and knife, and slung them over his shoulder. The others followed Bleda's lead, apart from Mirim, who sat with her wounded leg stretched out straight before her.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Bleda said. Six years living and surviving amongst the Ben-Elim at Drassil had taught him to keep his emotions closely guarded, and always to be polite, never to give cause for offence or to betray his thoughts.\n\nEllac sat and silently drew his sword, lay it across his lap and, fetching whetstone, scouring pad and oil from his belt pouch, set to cleaning black patches from his blade, the blood of Ben-Elim, no doubt. Ruga and Tuld did the same, Ruga passing sword and quiver to Mirim."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Kol watched in silence, firelight shining red in his eyes."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When the weapons had all been reclaimed he nodded, looked at Bleda.\n\n\"Remember the kindness I am showing you, and the faith I am putting in you,\" the Ben-Elim said.\n\n\"I will,\" Bleda said.\n\nI will remember this, and all else that you have done.\n\n\"I will, Lord Protector,\" Kol said.\n\nA moment's silence, stretching. Bleda felt his companions\" eyes on him.\n\n\"I will, Lord Protector,\" Bleda said quietly.\n\n\"I like the sound of that.\" Kol grinned and leaped into the air, white wings snapping wide, his guard following. Riv paused, knees bent. Her wings beat, lifting her.\n\n\"Riv,\" Bleda called out, and she hovered, looking down at him.\n\nHe just stared at her, felt his cold-face slip as he gazed into her eyes, so many things that he wanted to say, questions to ask.\n\nRiv must have read them upon his face, but she did not land and talk to him, as he'd hoped. She looked down at him, her expression shifting. Grief, sorrow, shame, anger-always anger with Riv-all finally washed away by some kind of stony resolve that was not too different from Bleda's own cold-face.\n\n\"It is for the greater good,\" she said, and then with a pulse of her wings she disappeared into the darkness.\n\nBleda sat with the others, a subdued silence settling over them all, just the rasp of whetstones and crackle of fire as they tended to their weapons.\n\nAll except Ellac were sleeping when Bleda unrolled his sleeping blanket and lay down upon it. The old warrior was sitting and gazing into the fire like some oak-carved statue."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What is it?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda said to him, leaning upon an elbow.\n\nDoes he think me weak, for not standing up to Kol, for calling him lord?\n\nEllac looked at him, but said nothing, then looked back to the fire. With a sigh, Bleda lay down, rolling over with his back to Ellac. Sleep took along time to come, despite the soporific crackle and pop of the fire as it slowly faded. He reached inside his cloak, found what he was looking for and pulled it out carefully, opening his palm in the dying fire-glow.\n\nA large feather, dapple grey, and, folded within it, a purple flower of mountain thyme. He lay there looking at it, thinking, until sleep claimed him.\n\nDrassil was ahead of them; tall and foreboding, banners snapping in the breeze from towers and walls, the silhouettes of Ben-Elim circling lazily above it. Six days of riding it had taken them to reach the ancient fortress, and Bleda felt his breath coming faster, a tension in his shoulders as he rode through the huge field of cairns that spread across the plain before the western gates.\n\nKol ordered horns blown as they crossed the field of cairns, and horn blasts echoed out from the gate tower in response.\n\nAll cannot go back to how it was-it must not. The world is changing.\n\n\"My mother must know of what is happening here,\" he whispered to Ellac, leaning close to the old warrior, who was riding beside him.\n\nEllac looked at him, his heavy-lidded eyes unreadable, though Bleda had the distinct impression that Bleda was appraising him.\n\n\"I sent word to her the day we took Riv from Drassil,\" Ellac said. \"My Prince,\" he added."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 16"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What is it?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda said to him, leaning upon an elbow.\n\nDoes he think me weak, for not standing up to Kol, for calling him lord?\n\nEllac looked at him, but said nothing, then looked back to the fire. With a sigh, Bleda lay down, rolling over with his back to Ellac. Sleep took along time to come, despite the soporific crackle and pop of the fire as it slowly faded. He reached inside his cloak, found what he was looking for and pulled it out carefully, opening his palm in the dying fire-glow.\n\nA large feather, dapple grey, and, folded within it, a purple flower of mountain thyme. He lay there looking at it, thinking, until sleep claimed him.\n\nDrassil was ahead of them; tall and foreboding, banners snapping in the breeze from towers and walls, the silhouettes of Ben-Elim circling lazily above it. Six days of riding it had taken them to reach the ancient fortress, and Bleda felt his breath coming faster, a tension in his shoulders as he rode through the huge field of cairns that spread across the plain before the western gates.\n\nKol ordered horns blown as they crossed the field of cairns, and horn blasts echoed out from the gate tower in response.\n\nAll cannot go back to how it was-it must not. The world is changing.\n\n\"My mother must know of what is happening here,\" he whispered to Ellac, leaning close to the old warrior, who was riding beside him.\n\nEllac looked at him, his heavy-lidded eyes unreadable, though Bleda had the distinct impression that Bleda was appraising him.\n\n\"I sent word to her the day we took Riv from Drassil,\" Ellac said. \"My Prince,\" he added."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Over a moon ago, closer to two. Then word should have reached her in Arcona by now, or soon will. Did Ellac do it to help me, or report on me? Is he my mother's spy?\n\n\"Good,\" he said to Ellac.\n\nWith a heavy creak and grinding, Drassil's gates opened. Kol and some of his Ben-Elim flew over the gatehouse, more horns echoing out from the vast walls. Aphra led her White-Wings marching through the gate tunnel. Bleda followed, the clip of his horse's hooves echoing on the stone, and then they were in the courtyard, a small host arrayed to greet them: Ben-Elim and White-Wings, all manner of stablehands and servants. And then Bleda saw others, dark-skinned warriors with shaved heads and long warrior braids, fora moment thought they were the remnants of his warrior-guard that had not accompanied him into Forn Forest. But then he saw their deel tunics were blue, not grey, and realized that they were of the Cheren Clan, not the Sirak.\n\nAnd he saw a young woman standing at their head, dark-haired, straight-backed and strong-shouldered, her features fine and sharp.\n\nJin.\n\nA weight like a lead ball fell in the pit of Bleda's stomach as he remembered.\n\nI have not thought of her for over a moon.\n\nJin strode forwards, two of her warrior-guard at her shoulder. She stopped before Bleda, looked up at him as he dismounted.\n\n\"Welcome back to Drassil, my betrothed,\" she said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem clamped his jaws together, trying to stop them from chattering as he knelt on the forest floor and peered through a carefully manufactured screen of pine branches and shrubs. After crawling from the freezing grasp of the river, he had shivered involuntarily fora whole day and night. Even now, another day on from that, he had to fight the occasional spasm that rippled through his jaws. Cold had seeped into him, deep as his bones, and did not want to relinquish its hold.\n\nThey had spent close to a whole day and night in the grip of the river, sheer granite cliffs rising either side of them, Drem lying upon a thick-slabbed sheet of ice, Cullen and Keld upon Hammer's back as she swam at first, and then spent her energy on trying to stay afloat. Cullen had managed to tie Keld to the huge saddle across Hammer's back and then cast a rope to Drem, who had tied it about the hilt of his seax and stabbed it deep into the ice raft he'd been clinging to, so that they would not become separated through the dark of night.\n\nIt had felt like the longest night of Drem's life, too terrified of rolling off his makeshift raft or losing his friends to sleep. He had been sure that death was only ever a handful of heartbeats away.\n\nWhen dawn had spread its pale glow across the river, he'd seen that the cliffs had given way to steep-sided slopes of shingle and pine, and as the day had worn on eventually shallow riverbanks appeared. Hammer paddled her way towards dry land, forging across the white-foamed current. The bear had crawled and scraped her bulk out of the river, then stumbled and limped to the granite boulder she was still slumped against now. Cullen had dragged Drem in by the rope and together they had cut Keld from Hammer's back and laid him out on the ground. He'd been unconscious and had remained more or less in the same state since then. Drem and Cullen had immediately set about making afire and shelter, both knowing the cold was likely to kill them far faster than any pursuit from Ferals and half-breed Kadoshim. They had stripped their clothes, Cullen chopping bundles of coppiced willow branches while Drem had shivered and shaken his way through, dragging out spare cloaks and hide blankets that had been bundled into Hammer's saddlebags and stitching them together. Even half-frozen, fingers, toes and lips turning blue, it had not taken them long to fashion a hide shelter and scrape afire-pit, banked with stones from the riverbed and lit with wood from a dead pine tree."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "After a stuttered, shivering conference, both Drem and Cullen had been confident that the river had carried them so far and fast that, unless their enemy built rafts and followed them down the river, there was at least three days' safety between them and their pursuers.\n\nApart from the half-breed.\n\nMustn't make a sound now. He put a hand to his jaw and physically clamped it shut, his eyes scanning the surrounding woodland through his latticed hide, looking up to search the treetop canopy.\n\nWhere is she?\n\nCullen was crouching in another hide in the shadows of a stand of pine, not more than thirty paces away from Drem. The sound of the river was a constant background roar in Drem's ears, unhelpfully masking other sounds. They were too close to the riverbank where Hammer had dragged them ashore. Drem could seethe bulk of the bear through the trees, a deeper darkness beyond the rough tent he and Cullen had built and where Keld still lay. Hammer was slumped beneath the shadow of a granite boulder. If there was any trouble Drem doubted the bear would be any help, she had hardly moved since she had staggered from the river.\n\nHammer's done enough for us.\n\nA rustling in the trees above and Drem shifted, quickly and quietly, tightening his grip on a rough javelin he'd carved.\n\nA wood pigeon, that was all.\n\nCullen said he saw her, the half-breed, flying along the river.\n\nMaybe she won't come this way.\n\nBut Drem was sure that she would. He remembered her voice in his ear, the look of hatred.\n\nThis is for my brother, she had said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Don't think she's the type to give up.\n\nHe stared at the path that led through the trees to the river. If the half-breed had led Fritha and her acolytes here, if they'd built rafts and floated down the river, then that path was the only approach to their makeshift camp.\n\nLot of'ifs\" there.\n\nA twig cracked, drawing Drem's eyes. A shadow in the darkness, solidifying into a figure. Squat, muscular, carrying a spear, wings arching over its back.\n\nDrem felt his heartbeat quicken. He'd satin hides a thousand times, hunting elk and other beasts, and never felt the worry of it.\n\nHunting half-breed Kadoshim is different, though.\n\nHis hand reached to his neck, found the comforting beat of his pulse.\n\nThe half-breed trod carefully through the pines. Boughs hung low over her head.\n\nHarder for her to fly here. That's in our favour.\n\nDrem focused on breathing long and slow, resisting the urge to burst from his hide and hurl his javelin.\n\nWait. It's all about the timing, my da used to say.\n\nShe was close, now, fifty paces, her head swivelling, searching the gloom. Close enough for Drem to seethe purpling bruising across her flat nose and eyes, from where he'd headbutted her.\n\nGood. Though I came off worse in that meeting. The knife-cut along his waist burned with every movement.\n\nDrem could seethe fabric of her wool tunic, taut and stretched over the musculature of her arms, a thick neck above her leather, fur-trimmed vest."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then she saw their tent, the patchwork of loosely stitched cloaks and blankets. The half-breed froze for long moments, staring at it, scanning the woodland around it.\n\nTake the bait.\n\nShe took a step towards the tent, then another, and another, her spear-point coming down, levelled in front of her.\n\nDrem shifted the grip on his javelin, slow and steady.\n\nJust like hunting. Wait for the moment, then stand and throw. One move.\n\nThe half-breed was a dozen paces from their makeshift camp, and by now she must be able to seethe shadowed outline of a figure inside the tent, a bulge pressed up against the fabric. Little did she know that it was a branch wrapped in a cloak. Drem remembered the rush of pride he'd felt at Cullen's praise for this trap. The bait, the lure, the hides, all Drem's idea, drawn from his hunting skills. It had just been obvious to him, what he thought anyone would have thought of.\n\nNevertheless, Cullen had been impressed and, as Drem was finding out about the red-haired warrior, he had not been reticent about verbalizing how he felt.\n\nFive paces from the tent, the half-breed started to raise her spear, preparing fora stab at the shape in the fabric.\n\nWhen she lunges is the moment. A few more paces and she'll be perfectly placed for both of us. Almost there.\n\nAnd then with an explosion of undergrowth Cullen burst from his hide and hurled his javelin.\n\nNo!\n\nThe half-breed leaped, no frozen moment, no fight-or-flight hesitation from her, just instant kinetic motion. Upwards, a short beat of her wings giving her extra height, her head brushing the canopy above her, where she hovered as Cullen's javelin hissed harmlessly beneath her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen was already running at her, his sword grating from its scabbard.\n\nThe half-breed drew back her spear-arm.\n\nHe's too faraway, she's going to skewer him like a charging boar.\n\nDrem crashed out of his hide, to the half-breed's left, making far more noise than he ever had before. Intentionally.\n\nHer head turned towards him, a snarl twisting her features as she recognized him. Her wings moved, shifting her in the air, and in a heartbeat her spear was hurtling at him instead of Cullen, the half-breed bursting into flight behind it, straight at him.\n\nDrem dived to his right. The forest litter was thick and spongy with fallen pine needles, the spring in it helping him to roll to his knees as the half-breed's spear slammed into a tree trunk that had been immediately behind him.\n\nDrem hurled his javelin, the half-breed throwing herself to the side, swerving but not breaking her flying charge at him. Drem's weapon pierced a leathery wing but passed through it with no apparent effect, other than a small tattered hole in the wing.\n\nDrem grabbed for the hilt of his seax, and then she was slamming into him, her shoulder punching into his belly, lifting him bodily from the ground, both of them flying through the air. Drem crunched into a tree, stars exploding in his vision, air expelled from his lungs, hot lines of pain opening up across his back as the claw wounds from the Feral burst open. The half-breed wrapped a fist around his throat, holding him upright, squeezing.\n\nDrem's vision swam, his hand fumbling for his seax, finding the bone hilt, drawing and slashing in the same move, cutting across the half-breed's vest, slicing through leather and the fur lining beneath, through the linen under-tunic, and into flesh."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The half-breed flung herself backwards, a grunt of pain, along diagonal line welling blood across her chest.\n\nA whistle of air and she was ducking, turning as Cullen's sword slashed through air, grazing her wing.\n\nShe reeled away, backhanded Cullen in the mouth, sending him staggering to one knee, and she stepped forwards, punched him in the temple, knocked him sprawling to the ground.\n\nDrem pushed away from the tree and slashed at her again, drawing red across her back, cut the base where one wing met her back muscle. She cried out, stumbling forwards, regained her balance and ran, wings snapping wide; a beat, and she was lifting from the ground.\n\nDrem chased after her.\n\nThe half-breed rose, swaying in the air, lost altitude, her feet grazing the ground, still running, wings trying to lift her again.\n\nI've damaged her wing.\n\nDrem increased his speed. He was tall, muscular and strong, but he had long legs and was unusually fast for someone so heavy. He gained on the wounded half-breed. She flew low to the ground, hindered by the low branches of the pine trees. Drem's legs and arms pumping, drawing closer, thirty paces behind her, twenty, ten. And then she burst out from the trees into open air, the river wide and foaming white, shingle slopes rising on the river's far side.\n\nDrem exploded from the trees onto a grassy verge, sloping down to the silt and reeds of the riverbank.\n\nThe half-breed was rising, swaying erratically in the air, lurching towards the river. Drem skidded to a halt, breathing great blasts of mist into the cold air as he watched the half-breed fly ever higher into the grey sky, hoping that her injured wing would fail her and she would plummet back down to the ground."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She flew beyond the bank, out over the river.\n\nFootsteps drumming behind him and Cullen staggered out from the trees, ran on past Drem, down the slope towards the river. Drem saw Cullen's hand fumble at his belt, unclipping a folded net, a lead-weighted ball stitched to each corner. The half-breed was at least twenty paces out and up from him as Cullen reached the water's edge. She saw the warrior, gave him a hate-filled snarl, then saw him raise the net over his head, swinging it in looping circles, the lead balls humming through the air.\n\nThe half-breed's expression changed, a twisted flash of fear and she turned in the air, wings beating harder, a grunt of pain.\n\nCullen threw the net.\n\nIt whistled through the air, rising up, fast and high, reached the apex of its flight and the net opened, lead balls spreading, dragging it down, folding perfectly around the half-breed, the weights spinning around an ankle, a wrist, snaring her wings. She struggled fora weightless moment, then with a despairing cry she tumbled from the air, crashed into the river in an explosion of crystal-cold foam.\n\nThe creature disappeared, submerged. Drem, staring, saw her come up twenty or thirty paces downriver, carried by the fast-flowing current. She bobbed on the water, trussed and struggling.\n\nCullen strode into the water, but almost immediately it rose too deep. Drem ran to his side, splashing into the icy-cold.\n\nThe half-breed was carried along, sinking and rising, spluttering and gasping, bound tight in the net's grip, and then she was gone, the river sweeping her around a bend."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen looked at Drem, blood dripping from his lip; he cuffed away more from a cut above his eye.\n\n\"Hope the bitch drowns,\" Cullen said, and spat blood into the water."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha looked up through a mesh of branches at the purpling sky, the sun a red line across the western peaks of the Bonefells as day relinquished its grip upon the world.\n\nWhere is Morn?\n\nIt was the third day since Fritha had fought the draig, since Drem and his companions had escaped her by leaping into a river.\n\nSince Gunil found my egg.\n\nA shiver of excitement at that thought, banishing fora few moments her unease about Morn's absence and her vexation at Drem's escape. It was quick to return.\n\nShe should be back by now. I warned her only to scout. To find Drem and then return tome, so that she could lead me to them. I thought Morn had learned her lesson, understood that she would not achieve her revenge alone, without my help.\n\n\"What should I do?\" she whispered to herself. \"Stay and wait for Morn?\"\n\nBut everyday here is a day behind Drem, or a day away from the cause. Should I continue my pursuit of Drem?\n\nShe swore at the first stars that winked into life, then turned on her heel and marched back to her camp. Her leg ached, a wound across her thigh; ragged rather than a neat cut, it was most likely from the draig's claws.\n\nArn had cleaned and stitched it for her. A stab of worry at the thought of him, knowing he was sat at vigil with Elise. Fritha quickened her pace. She felt the presence of a Feral close by, loping in the darkness.\n\nAh, my babies are protective of me. The thought gave her a warm feeling.\n\nThey had buried their dead and then moved a short way from the draig lair, carrying their injured far enough to escape the hideous stench of the draig dung. Fritha walked through the sentry line, glimpsed one of her people standing guard, his shadow merged with a tree. Deeper within the boundary of their camp, Fritha saw the outline of Gunil in the gloom, standing with the shadowed bulk that was Claw. He was tending to the bear's wounds. Fritha wasn't sure the animal would survive-some of its injuries were leaking pus and starting to smell bad."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It will be a grievous loss to the cause, if it dies, she thought. She shrugged and moved on, towards a flicker of flame.\n\nThey'd dug afire-pit, a dozen men and women ringed around it, hands warming on bowls of broth, their breath a mist in the air.\n\nA crude hide tent had been erected close to the fire-pit. Fritha nodded a greeting to those around the fire, then stepped into the tent.\n\nShe saw Arn kneeling beside a prone form, his dark hair shaved short, his silvering beard neat and braided, as always. He looked up at her as she entered, his eyes pleading.\n\n\"Any change?\" Fritha asked him. She received a curt shake of his head in answer as she joined him and knelt beside Elise.\n\n\"Help her,\" Arn said.\n\n\"I have tried,\" Fritha muttered, feeling a twist of emotions in her belly. Fear, that she would lose her friend-and they were few and far between. Shame, that she was not skilled enough to work a healing; and annoyance, at Arn, at Elise, at herself, that this should bring her lack of ability so unpleasantly to light.\n\nShe stroked Elise's cheek, slick with sweat, remembering the time Arn and Elise had cared for her, when they had found her slumped on the blood-soaked ground, her dead baby in her lap.\n\nI owe her.\n\nFritha began methodically checking over Elise's wounds. Her ribs had been manipulated back into position and a collection of broken bones had been splinted where possible-right arm broken above the elbow, both of her legs broken in multiple places.\n\nShattered is a more appropriate word. Even if I save her, I do not know if she will ever be able to walk again."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "But it was the internal injuries that worried Fritha most. Elise was coughing blood and her breath was shallow and erratic. Probably from when the draig had struck her in the chest with its tail, snapping ribs and bruising her lungs. There were a number of other possibilities, all of them worse. Internal bleeding highest on the list.\n\n\"Look what you are capable of doing, what you have accomplished so far,\" Arn whispered. \"The Ferals, Gulla, Revenants...\" He stared at her, dark eyes desperate.\n\n\"I will try again,\" Fritha murmured.\n\nShe unlaced a leather vambrace from her forearm, pulled the wool tunic back to bare her arm, and drew a knife from her belt. The blade hovered over her pale flesh and she closed her eyes...\n\nShe remembered a woman's face, severe, hard lines and scars. Afresh cut along one cheek, blood scabbing. A warrior, an empty scabbard at her hip, an iron cloak-brooch fashioned in the shape of a four-pointed star. She was sitting against a tree, chained to it, her hands bound in her lap. Fritha had stood before her.\n\n\"Tell me your secrets,\" Fritha had said.\n\nThe woman had just returned her gaze, strength and defiance in her eyes.\n\n\"You will tell me everything,\" Fritha had said, drawing a knife.\n\nThe same knife she held now.\n\n\"Fola agus focail chumhachta, ceangail an fheoil seo, leigheas an cnámh seo,\" Fritha breathed now as she drew the knife across her forearm, blood welling in a dark line. \"Fola agus focail chumhachta, ceangail an fheoil seo, leigheas an cnámh seo,\" she repeated as she turned her arm and held it over Elise, raising her elbow so that the blood trickled down to her hand, gathering into a droplet on one fingertip, fat and heavy, and dripping into Elise's mouth, another drop on her lips, another, and another as Fritha breathed the words over and over. A sharp wind blew into the tent, swirled around them, sounding like whispered voices."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Elise sucked in a deep breath, her back arching, eyes bulging, and then along, stuttered sigh, her body relaxing."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her breath seemed a little stronger, a little steadier.\n\nArn grabbed Fritha's hand.\n\n\"Thank you,\" he said.\n\nFritha gave him a wan smile.\n\n\"It has helped, but I am not a healer,\" she said. \"I wish now that I had questioned the Bright Star warrior more, and for longer. As it was, to learn this much I put her to the question for three days. But I was focused on other matters. I wanted to create things. But healing...\" She shrugged. \"Let us see how she responds to this.\"\n\n\"She will be well. I know she will,\" Arn said, stroking his daughter's brow. He looked up at Fritha. \"What is your plan?\"\n\n\"I am torn,\" Fritha said. \"Drem and the others could be leagues away by now, so we may never catch them.\"\n\n\"And is there any point, now?\" Arn asked. \"The goal was to catch them quickly, before they could send word to Dun Seren.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Fritha grunted.\n\n\"Their crow, it was not with them,\" Arn said.\n\n\"I know,\" Fritha snapped. \"Which means they've most likely sent it ahead of them, to warn that bitch, Byrne.\"\n\n\"We should go back to Gulla, then,\" Arn said.\n\nNot a pleasant prospect. He doesn't react well to failure. I do have the draig egg, though...\n\n\"There are reasons to continue our pursuit,\" Fritha said quietly. \"Drem shouted a name during the fight, before the draig appeared.\"\n\n\"I heard,\" Arn said. \"Cullen.\"\n\n\"Aye. Who would have thought that cocky child was Corban's descendant? A prize indeed, if we took him prisoner.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arn shrugged. \"If we can find them again, if we can catch up with them, if we can take him alive. A lot of ifs.\"\n\nYes, but the glory and honour of returning with Corban's descendant. It would be worth the risk.\n\n\"And the huntsman,\" Fritha continued. \"Did you hear him speaking the Old Tongue, using the earth power? He turned his blood to fire.\"\n\nAn indrawn breath from Arn.\n\n\"I would like very much to take him alive and put him to the question,\" Fritha said. \"We both know how few of the Order are taught the old ways of blood and bone.\" She looked at Elise, glanced quickly at Arn. \"He could be skilled at healing. The Order value that.\"\n\nShe could almost hear Arn's mind focusing on that word, healing, and clinging to that shred of hope.\n\n\"Perhaps we should continue our pursuit, then,\" Arn said. \"But what of Morn? We need her. And she is Gulla's daughter.\"\n\nHe left the rest unsaid. Fritha knew if Morn was lost, Gulla's wrath would be great indeed. She breathed deep, straightening her shoulders. She knew what she had to do, just did not want to admit it.\n\n\"I hope that Morn returns to us. But if she is not hereby the time we have broken our fast on the morrow, then we must move on. I will need to speak with Gulla.\"\n\n\"He will not be happy,\" Arn said.\n\n\"I am not happy,\" Fritha snapped. She calmed herself. \"Death smiles at us all,\" she said.\n\n\"All that we can do is smile back,\" Arn replied, repeating their mantra, something they had said a thousand times to each other since the day they had first met. The day the Ben-Elim had come."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Fritha nodded, her thoughts already elsewhere."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She squeezed Elise's hand and made her way to the back of the tent, lifted up a fur hide to reveal what lay beneath.\n\nThe draig egg.\n\nFritha crouched beside it, stroked it gently with her palm.\n\nI can feel you stirring, my baby, she thought.\n\nSoon.\n\nShe rose and left.\n\nFritha shared a bowl of broth with her warriors around the fire. A pile of bones, teeth and claws were heaped close to the fire, and the draig's skin was staked out where it had been scraped of flesh and fat.\n\nIt will make a score of cloaks and boots.\n\nThen Fritha stood and paced into the shadows, finding a handful of her Ferals gathered together in a huddle, a weave of limbs and fur, the glint of teeth in the dappled starlight. The others had been sent out as guardians, their noses, ears and eyes making them far better than any human sentry. Some were sleeping, but they stirred and looked up at Fritha as she approached.\n\n\"Don't getup, my children,\" she crooned as she reached them, crouching and stroking the jutting brow of one. He looked at her and whined.\n\n\"We'll find them soon,\" Fritha said, knowing that the Ferals did not really care; they were guided by much baser instincts: hunger, thirst, a pack mentality. But they were faithful and true to her; if she wanted something done, so did they.\n\nFritha lay down with them, felt them shift to curl around her, their warmth seeping into her, a barrier that sent the winter's chill fleeing. The smell wasn't too good, Fritha had to admit, musty, damp fur and sweat, but it was a fair bargain for being warm and feeling safe, protected. Even loved, and that was a feeling that Fritha hadn't known fora very longtime."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She closed her eyes.\n\nFritha raised her hand, calling a halt.\n\nShe was standing on the slope of a hill, looking east onto the great plain of the Desolation that opened up before her, jagged and scarred. Snow had softened the fissured landscape, giving it an endless, undulating appearance. It was late in the day, Fritha having set her pace by the injured bear and those carrying the wounded on stretchers.\n\nHere and thereon the plain she saw pinpricks of light marking isolated holds. Her eyes fixed on the closest one, roughly two or three leagues from her position.\n\nThat will do.\n\nWith a gesture, she started her small column moving, picking away down the slope, through wind-blasted pines in the failing light as dusk settled around them.\n\nMorn had not come, and so Fritha had made the decision to move out. Waiting was achieving nothing, only allowing Drem to widen the gap between them. She had made her decision, knew that she wanted to catch them; she could not turn her back and walkaway from the lure of the huntsman's knowledge and power and the prize that was the young Cullen. But she could not build rafts and follow them down the river; they could not fashion a raft big enough to safely take Gunil's bear, so Fritha made the decision to travel by land, which meant back-tracking on their route and attempting to find new paths through the Bonefells that would lead them back to the river.\n\nShe was concerned about Morn but knew that if the half-breed was alive and found her way back to the draig lair, she would have no great difficulties in tracking Fritha.\n\nIt had taken her most of the day to lead her dwindling, battered survivors to the ravine where Drem and his companions had fooled them and changed their course, but since then they had made better time, the sharp gullies and ravines of the Bonefells shifting to the foothills that bordered the mountains."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha was deeply aware that she was losing time, that each moment was allowing Drem to widen the gap between them, but there was nothing that she could do about that right now, and as annoyed and vexed as she was about it, she was ever the pragmatist.\n\nAnd besides, there is something else that I must do.\n\nI need to communicate with Gulla, and for that I require certain... ingredients.\n\nFritha crept through the snow, slow and steady, minimizing the crunch of each frozen step, until she reached the post-and-rail fence of a paddock, marking the boundary of the hold.\n\nSilent as smoke, she slipped between the rails and moved into the paddock, Arn a shadow behind her, a deeper darkness behind him that was Gunil. Fritha knew that her people were doing the same all around the hold, edging closer, like wolven stalking an unsuspecting elk. Fritha had commanded her Ferals to stay further out in a loose circle around the hold.\n\nShe needed people taken alive.\n\nA building loomed and Fritha pressed tight against it, took a few moments to listen. From the smell and sounds, it was a stable. She leaned out from the shadows, saw two ponies and a thick-boned plough-horse. Beyond the stable was a courtyard, snow glistening like crystals in the starlight. It was bordered by outbuildings-a barn, a chicken coop, a pig-pen. A few goats roamed free. At the courtyard's head was a small feast-hall, snow thick on the turf-covered roof. Light glimmered through shuttered windows, and Fritha heard the murmur of conversation.\n\nThere was a small gap between the stable and the feast-hall, Fritha slipping across, climbing the few steps that raised the feast-hall from the ground, Arn behind her, Gunil remaining in the darkness of the stable."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A shadow on the porch before the hall's doors shifted, and then a hound was standing, growling and barking.\n\nArn stepped around Fritha, took half a dozen steps and put his spear in its chest; growls turned to a high-pitched whine, cut short.\n\nThe doors flew open, a dark silhouette with a tangle of beard, standing in a moment's frozen shock. Arn tugged on his spear, trying to turn, but the blade was snagged in the dog's corpse.\n\nShouts and footsteps came from inside the hall.\n\nThe silhouette threw himself at Arn, the two of them stumbling over the hound's body and going down in a snarl of limbs.\n\nAnother figure burst from the hall, a woman, lean and wiry. Fritha slammed her spear-butt into the woman's head. She dropped sprawling to the ground and didn't move. Arn and his attacker rolled down the steps to the courtyard, but before Fritha could reach them she was attacked by another figure rushing from the hall, a gangly youth swinging a wood-axe at her. She blocked and retreated, blocked and retreated, resisting the opportunities to stab into his throat or belly.\n\nThen Gunil was there, a fist clubbing the lad across his shoulders, and he was on the ground, too.\n\nArn was stood over his assailant, who was kneeling on slush-churned ground, a handful of Fritha's crew around him, spears levelled.\n\n\"Bind them,\" Fritha said.\n\nShe strode into the hall, saw afire-pit with a pot hanging over it, a few stools and chairs around it. An old woman was sitting in one. She held out a knife as Fritha approached."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll not stand and knife-fight you as I would have once,\" the woman said, \"but I'll give you a cut or two 'fore you take me.\"\n\n\"I'm sure you would, grandmother,\" Fritha said, dipping her head respectfully, \"but it would be better for me, and for your kin, if you just drop the knife. I don't want to hurt them, just need the use of your hall for the night.\" She stood in front of the old lady, out of knife range, and rested her spear-button the ground. Fritha knew she could just skewer the old woman where she sat.\n\nBehind Fritha her crew were entering the hall, dragging their captives.\n\n\"No harm will come to them?\" the woman said.\n\n\"They will all live through this night, you have my oath,\" Fritha said.\n\nThe woman nodded and dropped the blade.\n\n\"A wise choice,\" Fritha said. She turned to Arn. \"Take them to the barn, light afire for them so they don't freeze.\"\n\nArn nodded and left, the captives herded with them.\n\n\"What about my mother?\" the one who had attacked Arn called, a thickset man with a heavy beard.\n\n\"She and I have things to talk about,\" Fritha said. She felt sympathy for these people, knew that they had likely come north into the Desolation to escape the rule of the Ben-Elim. They were not the enemy.\n\nBut these are hard times, and hard decisions must oft be made.\n\n\"Take them away,\" Fritha said with a wave of her hand. She inspected the contents of the pot: mutton stew, by the smell of it. She gave it astir with a ladle, offered some to the old woman, who shook her head, and then scooped herself a bowlful. She sat on a stool and shuffled closer to the old woman."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A hard life for you, herein the Desolation,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Hard times all round,\" the old woman said suspiciously. \"Just different kinds of hard. The Desolation isn't so bad.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" grunted Fritha, sipping from the bowl. It was greasy and watery but tasted as fine a meal as Fritha could remember right now. \"Freedom's worth much,\" she said, watching the grandmother.\n\n\"True enough.\"\n\n\"The Ben-Elim?\" Fritha said.\n\nAfter along hard stare, the old woman nodded.\n\n\"I've heard talk of the Ben-Elim's flesh tithe,\" Fritha said. \"They wanted your grandson?\"\n\nAlong sigh. \"Aye, they did. We were not of a mind to give him up, like coin in some kind of tax.\" The old woman spat into the fire.\n\nFritha nodded, understanding. She wished she had time, knew that the Desolation was filling with people like this, with grudges against the Ben-Elim. But time was no longer a luxury that she and Gulla had. Not with Drem likely only a ten-night away from Dun Seren, and his cursed talking crow closer than that.\n\nStill, she felt that she had to try.\n\n\"They'll come here, too,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Maybe, maybe not,\" the woman said.\n\n\"They will,\" Fritha said. \"And soon. You could stand against them, fight them. You and your kin.\"\n\n\"Fight the Ben-Elim and their White-Wings?\" The woman snorted. \"Hah. I am no coward, but I am no fool, either. That way's a quick path to an iron-edged death.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There are others that would fight the Ben-Elim. You could join them.\"\n\n\"Who?\" the woman said, eyes narrowing suspiciously.\n\n\"The Kadoshim,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Are you a madwoman?\" the grandmother said. \"They are worse than the Ben-Elim. Why fight for them?\"\n\n\"I'll wager all that you've ever heard of the Kadoshim has come from the mouth or quill of the Ben-Elim. Who has ever spoken highly of their enemy?\" Fritha shook her head. \"The Kadoshim are not the monsters that the Ben-Elim make them out to be. They would not be the masters of the Banished Lands, it is just the defeat of the Ben-Elim that they strive for. When the war is won they will share their power, and they will remember those who help them achieve that goal.\"\n\n\"You're insane,\" the woman hissed. \"You would have me trade one tyrant for another. No, better to come here, to leave them to their scrapping and start anew life. A hard life, aye, but a free one.\"\n\n\"Free today, but for how long?\" Fritha said. \"You think the Ben-Elim will not come here? Of course they will, maybe not this moon, nor the next, but soon. Before your grandson is a man, is my guess.\"\n\nThe old woman scowled at her.\n\n\"Why do you fight for them, then?\"\n\nFritha looked at the old woman, saw a genuine question in her eyes.\n\n\"Because the Ben-Elim killed my baby,\" Fritha whispered, choosing to tell the truth.\n\nFootsteps. Fritha knew from the way the floorboards shook that it was Gunil."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The way the grandmother's eyes widened as she looked over Fritha's shoulder also gave Fritha the same answer.\n\n\"What monsters have you brought into my hold?\" The old woman spat out a curse.\n\n\"War makes monsters of us all,\" Fritha said. \"And the trouble with war is that it follows you. Sometimes there's no escaping it. Sometimes the only choice is to choose which side you stand on.\"\n\n\"My son and his wife, my grandson,\" the grandmother said, eyes fixed on Gunil, who was towering over Fritha now, as he examined the contents of the pot over the fire-pit. \"You swore they would live.\"\n\n\"They will,\" Fritha said. \"I can't just leave them here, though. They will come with me and choose aside. You, though, grandmother, you are not up to the journey. And I did not swear to keep you safe.\"\n\nFritha shook her head, leaning forward and patting the old woman's hand. She felt a wave of sympathy for this woman, a sadness at what she had to do.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" Fritha said, \"but I need your face.\" And, faster than a blink, she drew her knife and stabbed the old woman in the throat.\n\nFritha sliced her knife across her palm and squeezed her hand into a fist, letting the blood flow and drip into a small iron bowl she'd set on a table. Beyond it was a wooden frame she'd quickly crafted, four hooks in each corner. Attached to these hooks was the skinned face of the old woman she'd just killed, stretched out across the frame, hanging loose like an empty sail. Globs of fat and blood still dripped from it. The dead woman's body lay cast upon the ground. Out of the corner of her eye Fritha saw a rat scurry from the shadows and start nibbling at the meat exposed beneath the hastily skinned face. She ignored it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Glacaim liom anois, Gulla, aingeal dubh, agus tríd an fhuil,\" Fritha chanted as she dripped her blood into the bowl. It rippled as if some hidden wyrm were uncoiling within it.\n\n\"Glacaim liom anois, Gulla, aingeal dubh, agus tríd an fhuil,\" she repeated, louder. The skin stretched upon the frame twitched and spasmed. Although the doors had been closed and barred, the windows tightly shuttered, a cold wind blew through the room, sending the flames in the fire-pit dancing and hissing, making shadows dance. Behind her, Fritha heard Gunil grunt.\n\n\"Glacaim liom anois, Gulla, aingeal dubh, agus tríd an fhuil,\" Fritha said for the third time, and the skin on the frame shifted, filling as if a breeze moved it, then more violently, the mouth jerking, opening, the cheeks filling, changing shape, and the eyes sparking to red life.\n\n\"Fritha,\" a voice rasped from the animated skin, Gulla's voice. \"What do you want? I am busy.\"\n\nFritha drew in a deep breath.\n\nLittle point worrying about a thing. Best just to say it.\n\n\"Morn is missing, and Drem and his companions are likely going to reach Dun Seren. Even if we catch them, the crow that took your eye is no longer with them. I think it likely they've sent it on ahead to take word of you to Byrne.\"\n\n\"What!\" The face snarled, grating like iron scraping over a cairn-stone. A smell of decay wafted from the mouth of the skinned visage."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha repeated her words. \"I am sorry, Lord,\" she added.\n\n\"Gunil?\" Gulla's voice asked.\n\n\"I am here,\" the giant said. He was looking at the rat, still feasting upon the dead woman's skinless face.\n\n\"Report,\" Gulla ordered.\n\n\"Things have not gone well.\" Gunil shrugged. \"My Claw has been wounded.\"\n\nIs that all he cares about? Fritha scowled.\n\n\"By a draig,\" Fritha added. \"We have sustained casualties. Drem and the two Order warriors escaped by leaping into a river while we fought the draig.\"\n\n\"And my daughter?\" Gulla growled.\n\n\"She went out scouting four days ago and has not returned.\"\n\nThe skinned face scowled, not a pleasant expression. Fritha controlled the urge to shudder.\n\nGunil raised afoot and stamped on the rat. Bones crunched.\n\n\"The Order are likely to hear of our presence at the Starstone Lake,\" Fritha said. \"Of the sword, of you...\"\n\n\"I understand the implications,\" Gulla snapped. \"I am not ready yet, have more to do.\" A silence. The red eyes shifted and flickered. \"We will have to speedup the plan. There is nothing else we can do. I shall send forth the Seven.\"\n\n\"You are able to do that?\"\n\n\"Aye. We have turned half a thousand already, from Kergard and the surrounding holds. I wanted more before I sent out my Seven, but...\" The face twitched, a movement like wind blowing across a sail.\n\n\"I will send them into the Land of the Faithful,\" he said. A fierce shifting of his mouth, a ghastly parody of a smile."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What of our allies in the south?\" Fritha asked.\n\n\"I will send word to the Shekam also, but this maybe too soon for them.\" A snarl rippled across the skinned face. \"A hundred years in the planning, and now there is no time. Because of a talking crow.\"\n\nPlans are wonderful things until they go wrong, Fritha thought. Which they always do. She held her tongue, though, and remained silent as the parody of Gulla's features twisted in rage.\n\n\"Your numbers,\" Gulla eventually said, \"and, where are you?\"\n\n\"Thirty of us,\" Fritha said. \"We are at a hold at the southern tip of the Bonefells; likely thirty leagues from Dun Seren.\"\n\nAnother silence, the jaws of the animated skin opening and closing, as if Gulla were gnashing his teeth.\n\n\"You must return tome. You carry the Starstone Sword and you're too close to Dun Seren. We cannot risk it falling into the hands of the Order of the Bright Star.\"\n\nFritha hated to fail at a task, and she longed to take Drem and his companions prisoner, just so that she could drag them back to Gulla and cast them at his feet.\n\nShe muttered a curse to herself.\n\n\"What?\" Gulla's voice said.\n\n\"There are reasons to continue the pursuit,\" Fritha said. \"One of them, the huntsman, knows the earth power. He spoke the old words, melted the faces from a handful of my people. And the young one, he is Cullen, descendant of Corban.\"\n\nThe skinned face creased as Gulla frowned. \"Two valuable prizes.\" The lips moved, a sibilant hiss. \"One with the closely guarded secrets of the Order, the other atrophy to crush their spirit and raise our own. I remember that Corban.\" Gulla spat the words like a poison. \"The worm that dared stand against our king.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He slew Calidus, Asroth's chosen commander, the legends tell,\" Fritha said, intrigued to hear a Kadoshim speak of those days.\n\n\"Aye,\" Gulla grunted, \"through trickery. Calidus was a fool.\"\n\n\"To capture his grandchild would be a great triumph, my Lord. One that you could proclaim to your kin. Something to set against the blow of being forced to move sooner than planned.\"\n\nGulla's face twitched and snarled.\n\n\"Hunt them a little longer,\" he breathed.\n\n\"As you command, my Lord,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Good. Do not fail me.\" With along, exhaled sigh like the rattle before death, the skinned face deflated, sagging in its framework.\n\nFritha set to taking it apart, packing it away into a small wooden chest she'd found in the hall. She folded the skinned face and wrapped it in apiece of linen, putting it into the chest on top of the frame andiron bowl.\n\nA fist pounded on the door and Fritha turned, swept up her spear.\n\nGunil strode to the doors and lifted off the bar he'd set across it. Arn was there, his arm around a figure half-slumped against him.\n\nIt was Morn.\n\nShe was wet and bedraggled, ice glistening in the hair on her stubbled head, and one of her wings drooped at an odd angle. Something was draped about her, a tattered net snared in one wing and arm, wrapped around her leg.\n\nArn half led her, half dragged her into the hall, Gunil taking the half-breed in his thick arms."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Morn lifted her head and looked at Fritha.\n\n\"I've found them,\" the half-breed said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Some help here,\" Cullen said, pointing to a pot hanging over a small fire. They were sitting within their rough-made tent, a screen of hide blankets and cloaks stitched together and tied to coppiced branches, afire-pit scraped into the hard earth.\n\nDrem stood, wincing as the knife-cut along his waistline rubbed, scabs cracking, and the stitches in his back and arm pulled.\n\nI hope she drowned, Drem thought, echoing Cullen's words at the riverside. Three days had passed since the half-breed had fallen into the river, and there had been no sight or sound of her or Fritha's acolytes. So the likelihood was she had drowned.\n\nAnd good riddance.\n\nThe knowledge that they needed to move seeped through Drem, making him anxious and fidgety. But he also knew they could not leave. Keld was in the grip of a fever, and Hammer was slumped outside, unable or refusing to walk.\n\nOur only option is to leave them, which I won't do. I hope that Rab has reached Dun Seren.\n\nCullen passed a branch through the handle of the pot and they both lifted it, carrying it away from the fire. Dappled starlight lit their way as they walked a dozen paces beneath the shelter of pine trees towards the prostrate form of Hammer. The bear lifted her heavy head from her paws and looked at them, a morose growl rumbling in her belly.\n\n\"Here you go, girl,\" Cullen said as they placed the pot in front of the bear. She sniffed it and looked away.\n\n\"That won't do,\" Cullen said, squatting before her and using a ladle as a spoon, scooping a thick, porridge-like substance from the pot and lifting it to the bear's lips."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"She usually loves brot,\" Cullen whispered over his shoulder to Drem, his voice heavy with worry."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Can't get enough of the stuff.\"\n\nDrem checked the numerous bandages about the bear, applied more honey and compresses to the bear's many injuries, a multitude of claw marks and puncture wounds. None smelled bad or leaked pus, which was something, though Drem feared that the bear would never walk properly again. He'd checked the bones in her shoulder where he'd seen the giant strike her with his great war-hammer, and from what he could tell nothing seemed broken, but since Hammer had pulled and clawed her way out of the river and onto this riverbank, she had taken her weight for only a few score seconds or so. Rising briefly to stagger across the shingle bank, up higher onto a grassy slope and into the cover of these towering pine trees, and then a little further to collapse against a granite boulder. She had not stood since then, even during the half-breed's attack, despite every effort to encourage her from Cullen and Drem.\n\nCullen managed to spoon a few ladles of brot into Hammer's mouth, and Drem stroked her neck, felt her swallow once. They persevered, tried to give her more, but Hammer just lay her head down on her paws and gave out what sounded like along, rumbling groan, almost like a sigh.\n\nHas she given up? Pining for Sig, and now her injuries and exhaustion on top of that grief.\n\n\"That'll have to do for now,\" Cullen said dejectedly. He rubbed Hammer's furry cheek and stood. They made their way back to their shelter and hung the pot back over the fire, Cullen stirring its contents. When it started to bubble again he filled two bowls and passed one to Drem.\n\n\"Eat it while it's still warm,\" Cullen said. \"And trust me when I say it doesn't get to taste any better when it's cold.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem sniffed it.\n\nThe brot was as thick as porridge, though it tasted more of earth and bark than hot oats. After his first taste Drem had declined, but Cullen had insisted, claiming it was made by giants and would fill and sustain him far longer than any other meal.\n\nStarving hunger had eventually convinced Drem to eat it. Cullen had been right: Drem had felt strengthened and fortified, the effects lasting far longer than he would have expected, though he'd been tempted to add some of their small supply of honey to help it go down better, but they were saving that for the treatment of the many wounds they seemed to be collecting.\n\nKeld lay within their shelter, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in what looked like sleep. He was thick with sweat, his skin mottled and patchy, a lump the size of an egg on the back of his head, his chest criss-crossed with claw marks from the Feral that had felled him. Drem and Cullen had cleaned the wounds, but on the second day they had turned angry and inflamed, by the third day had started weeping thick yellow pus. On the fourth day Drem had thought Keld was going to die, but then something had turned in him, and by the fifth day the fluid leaking from Keld's wounds was clear. His fever had lessened, though it was not beaten yet. Keld's head cast about and he murmured something, a word breathed from cracked lips.\n\n\"Fen.\"\n\nDrem felt a deep guilt at leaving the wolven-hound behind. Cullen had slung the unconscious form of Keld over his shoulder and run for the river, Hammer limping and lumbering after him, and Drem had run to the hound, a pile of fur at the base of a tree where the draig had thrown it. Fen was breathing, but Drem could not get the animal to stand. He'd tried to lift the wolven-hound and had managed to raise him into his arms, a prodigious feat, as the animal weighed the rough equivalent of a pony. Fen had snapped at him, whined with the pain. Drem was no weakling, in fact men had picked fights with him because of his size and freakish strength, but a score of paces and Drem's back and legs were crumpling. He'd been unable to goon, had tried calling to Cullen and Hammer, but they were out of earshot and couldn't hear him over the din of the draig and giant bear anyway, and there was no time to get them and comeback for the wolven-hound, so he'd veered into the trees and laid Fen down behind a fallen rotted tree. A rib-bone was protruding through the wolven-hound's side. Drem put one hand on the bone, another on the hound's side, and pushed, trying to manipulate the bone back into place. He'd got a snapping growl and a half-hearted bite for it, but with a click the bone slotted back into place."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm sorry, lad,\" Drem said, \"but I can't carry you.\" He heaped a mound of litter over the wolven-hound, then ran for the river and Cullen.\n\nThe guilt of it lay heavily upon him.\n\nCullen checked Keld, wiped his brow tenderly with a damp cloth, his eyes creased with worry.\n\n\"Comeback tome, Keld,\" Drem heard Cullen whisper. \"I cannot lose you, too.\" A teardrop dripped from the young warrior's nose and he sniffed and cuffed more tears away.\n\n\"Can you not do... something?\" Drem asked, thinking of how Keld had revealed the runes upon his seax. And of how his father Olin had forged the Starstone Sword, chanting words of power.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Cullen said, frowning. \"I've done all I can think of.\"\n\n\"I mean, the earth power. Keld made the runes appear on my seax. Can you not help Keld's healing?\"\n\n\"The Order does not spoon out the earth power like brot, more's the pity,\" Cullen said glumly. \"Only a few are invited to learn. It is a great honour, a privilege, and we must be sure you can handle the responsibility of that power,\" he added in a high-pitched voice, as if he mimicked someone else's speech. \"Apparently, I am not deemed responsible, yet,\" Cullen muttered.\n\nDrem spooned brot into his mouth, forcing himself to swallow.\n\n\"There are worse ways to stay alive.\" Cullen grinned at him as he ate his own bowl of steaming brot with apparent gusto. Shockingly, and remarkably, Cullen had escaped the fight at the draig den almost completely unscathed. A few scratches, a bruise on his shoulder, but nothing more serious. Drem had needed stitching on the cut Fritha had given him on his forearm, as well as the deep gouges across his back from a Feral's claws. The knife-cut from the half-breed along his waist was the shallowest, but also the one that hurt the most, almost every movement pulling and rubbing at the scabbing wound."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "We should leave here soon."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Should have left days ago. But how can we, with Keld still unable to walk? Cullen and I could build a litter and carry him, but we would be so slow, Fritha and her beasts would be upon us in no time. It's amazing that they haven't found us already. We need Hammer to carry Keld out of here, if only she would try and stand. It seems that she's lost the will to live.\n\n\"I can't leave Keld or Hammer behind,\" Cullen said fiercely, as if reading Drem's thoughts. \"I've known them all my life, spent most of my days in their company. They're close tome as kin.\"\n\n\"I'd not ask you to,\" Drem said. \"Somethings are more important than breathing a little longer.\" His thoughts drifted to his da, Olin, the only constant he had ever known in his life-a stab of pain in his belly, grief, like a leviathan stirring. All of his life Drem could only remember his father, and that had been enough for him. He had loved the brief mentions of his mam, longed to hear more of her, and in the last year he had become more and more agitated at his father's reticence to tell Drem of his past. In the end Olin had, and Drem understood now why it had been such a closely guarded secret. He wished that he'd had more time to spend with Olin after he had heard the truth from his father's lips. If anything, it had made them closer, Drem hearing how Olin's whole life had been dedicated to keeping Drem safe.\n\nHe blinked, banishing tears that threatened to rise.\n\nHe looked at Cullen, so young, only eighteen summers old, and yet he had seen so much, was so skilled with a blade."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Though that is hardly surprising, given his lineage. Cullen was the great-grandson of Corban, greatest hero of the Banished Lands.\n\n\"Do you remember my mam and da?\" Drem asked Cullen.\n\n\"Ach, no,\" Cullen said. \"I was barely two summers old when the Battle of Varan's Fall and all that happened with the Ben-Elim occurred.\" He shrugged. \"I felt as if I knew them, though, for all the tales that are told about them. Fine warriors, the both of them, but your mam, she was a terror, if Sig spoke true-and Sig always spoke true, even when the truth would cut like a blade.\" He smiled, a weight of memory behind the expression.\n\n\"I only know what anyone at the Order knows,\" Cullen continued. \"That the Ben-Elim wanted you as award, because your mam was sister to Byrne, our high captain. Olin stole you away from the Order, both to save you and to prevent a war between the Order and the Ben-Elim. A brave man, your da, that's what Sig said.\"\n\n\"He was.\" Drem sighed, thinking of how Olin had kept him safe, moving, living a solitary life.\n\nDa wasn't just my kin, he was my only friend.\n\n\"What of Byrne, my aunt?\" Drem asked. It felt strange saying that out loud. For all of his life Drem had not known of any kin related to him beyond his father and his dead mother. And Byrne was High Captain of the Order of the Bright Star, descended from Cywen, Corban's sister.\n\n\"Ah, now there's a warrior. Not to look at, not like Sig, where you just knew crossing blades with her would end badly. Byrne, though, she looks...\" He paused and thought, tapping a tooth. \"Ordinary. She's not, though. I've had more bruises from Byrne in the weapons-field than from anyone else, including Sig. Byrne's adder-fast, and she uses this.\" He tapped his forehead. \"She's got a sharp tongue on her as well, doesn't suffer fools gladly.\" Cullen grimaced, and Drem could tell there was a weight of memory and experience behind that expression, too."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Beyond their shelter, Hammer growled.\n\nIna heartbeat Cullen was on his feet and striding out of their shelter into the night, sword hissing into his fist. Drem was a moment behind him, ignoring the pain from his complaining wounds. He drew his seax and stood next to Cullen, staring into the night-black, silvered by starlight.\n\nHammer's head was up and she was snuffling the air in great snorts.\n\n\"Hold your breath, Hammer, I'm trying to listen,\" Cullen muttered, eyes scanning the darkness.\n\nDrem moved away from the shelter and the soft fire-glow that leaked from the hide entrance, slipping into the tree-dark. He looked up, knew that their shelter was shielded from eyes above by the combination of thick canopy and hide tent. He'd reconnoitred all three of the paths that led away from this spot, knew that only one of them twisted roughly north, in the direction of their last encounter with Fritha.\n\nIf they've found us, that will be where they come from.\n\nDrem had set a few traps, more as a chance of early warning than in any hope of defeating Fritha and her horrific crew. But as he listened to the coal-black woods he heard nothing.\n\nThen...\n\nMore a whisper of sound, the hint of a footfall. He strained, trying to hear, to cut through the darkness with eyes and ears. Nothing, and then there it was, again but louder, like a shuffling gait. His eyes snapped towards the sound. A deeper darkness in the gloom formed, the suggestion of movement. Growing larger, closer.\n\nDrem crouched, Seax held ready, and Cullen took a step into the darkness, sword gilded in starlight."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A whine.\n\nThen Cullen was running forwards and Fen the wolven-hound was limping out of the murk.\n\nDrem was only a footstep behind as Cullen dropped to his knees and hugged the wolven-hound, wrapping his arms around the beast's thick neck.\n\nDrem felt such a sense of relief that a grin split his face, the weight of their circumstances leaving him fora while.\n\n\"Ah, but you're a tough one,\" Cullen was saying, laughing and crying. \"I saw you jump at that draig, you lunatic.\"\n\nFen gave Cullen a rasping lick on the cheek, but then he was pushing through Cullen's embrace, shaking him off and limping forwards, towards their shelter. Cullen let the wolven-hound go, eyes shining.\n\nDrem followed Fen as he limped his way into the shelter. The hound stopped then, took along sniff of the air, head weaving, eyes fastening upon Keld lying beyond the fire-pit. A quickening of his pace and he was beside the huntsman, nudging him, licking him, whining. Keld stirred, muttered something incomprehensible, but did not wake.\n\nFen turned in a circle and lay down tight to the unconscious huntsman; with a very human-like sigh he rested his head on the huntsman's hand, and in a handful of heartbeats the wolven-hound was asleep, his deep chest rising and falling.\n\n\"Ach, with friends like this, how can we ever lose?\" Cullen grinned at Drem.\n\nDrem smiled back, overwhelmed to seethe wolven-hound, the guilt he had felt at leaving him lifting from his mind.\n\nThat hound has a will of iron. Drem remembered how bad his condition had been."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He has had along hard road to find us.\n\nThey settled down for the night, Drem taking first watch. He stepped outside their rudimentary shelter and found a pine tree to lean against, pulled tight the bearskin cloak about his shoulders and looked out into the darkness. He rested a hand upon the seax at his belt, loosened the blade in its scabbard, something that was becoming a habit with him. The cold would make the blade stick, and the last thing he wanted was to need his blade and not be able to draw it.\n\nSomething was telling him that he might be needing a blade in his hand, all too soon.\n\nBecause if Fen could find us, then so can other things.\n\nDrem woke to the sound of Fen the wolven-hound urinating up the side of their shelter.\n\nI've had better starts to a day.\n\nHe rolled over and saw Cullen was banking the fire and setting a pot to bubbling.\n\nDrem slipped out from under his blanket as Fen pushed his way through the stitched cloaks that acted as a tent flap and padded over to Keld. He set to licking the huntsman's face, nibbling at his beard as if he were grooming Keld.\n\n\"Ach, get off,\" Keld said, a hand reaching up to attempt a feeble shove. Fen yipped and leaped in a circle, his wagging tail threatening to bring down the tent, began pawing at Keld, crouching and barking, pawing again.\n\n\"Keld!\" Cullen cried, rushing to the huntsman's side.\n\nDrem grinned.\n\nKeld sat up, rubbing his head.\n\n\"I'm starving,\" he said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ah, but it's good to have you back with us,\" Cullen said to Keld.\n\nKeld nodded, said something incomprehensible through a mouthful of brot.\n\nDrem was starting to feel a little worried about the huntsman. He knew that half a bowl of the foul-tasting gruel had filled him to bursting and made him feel as if he'd had a stomach full of lead for the next day and a half. Keld was on his third bowl.\n\nHe's going to eat himself to death.\n\nDrem handed Keld a spit of squirrel meat that had been turning over the fire. He was a trapper, after all, and had been sitting in this camp for six days. He'd had to do something, so their food bags were full, and brot, thankfully, was no longer a necessity. Keld looked up from his bowl and took the squirrel meat, tore off a chunk.\n\n\"It's hot, you might want to take it slo-\"\n\nKeld swallowed the chunk of meat, hardly chewing it, and ripped off another slab of meat.\n\n\"Never mind.\"\n\n\"So, what trouble are we in?\" Keld asked, wiping grease from his mouth and beard.\n\n\"Remarkably, none that I can report on,\" Cullen said good-naturedly. \"I thought Fritha and her arsewipes would have sniffed us out by now.\" He patted his sword hilt. \"But thus far, no such luck.\" He gave his mad grin, the one that Drem was starting to associate with Cullen's desire for against-all-odds danger.\n\nThey'd told Keld of how the battle had ended, of the draig and their mad scramble for the river, of tying Keld to Hammer's back and leaping into the ice floe."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 18"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ah, but it's good to have you back with us,\" Cullen said to Keld.\n\nKeld nodded, said something incomprehensible through a mouthful of brot.\n\nDrem was starting to feel a little worried about the huntsman. He knew that half a bowl of the foul-tasting gruel had filled him to bursting and made him feel as if he'd had a stomach full of lead for the next day and a half. Keld was on his third bowl.\n\nHe's going to eat himself to death.\n\nDrem handed Keld a spit of squirrel meat that had been turning over the fire. He was a trapper, after all, and had been sitting in this camp for six days. He'd had to do something, so their food bags were full, and brot, thankfully, was no longer a necessity. Keld looked up from his bowl and took the squirrel meat, tore off a chunk.\n\n\"It's hot, you might want to take it slo-\"\n\nKeld swallowed the chunk of meat, hardly chewing it, and ripped off another slab of meat.\n\n\"Never mind.\"\n\n\"So, what trouble are we in?\" Keld asked, wiping grease from his mouth and beard.\n\n\"Remarkably, none that I can report on,\" Cullen said good-naturedly. \"I thought Fritha and her arsewipes would have sniffed us out by now.\" He patted his sword hilt. \"But thus far, no such luck.\" He gave his mad grin, the one that Drem was starting to associate with Cullen's desire for against-all-odds danger.\n\nThey'd told Keld of how the battle had ended, of the draig and their mad scramble for the river, of tying Keld to Hammer's back and leaping into the ice floe."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"After a day in the river Hammer dragged us onto the riverbank, managed to heave herself this far, and then collapsed. Since then we've been thawing our toes out by the fire, waiting for you to wake up...\" Cullen grinned.\n\n\"You should have left me, made for Dun Seren,\" Keld said, frowning. \"Byrne must know of what is happening in the north.\"\n\n\"I wasn't going to be leaving you anywhere, not while there was breath in your body.\"\n\n\"This is too importan-\" Keld started to say, but Cullen held up a hand.\n\n\"\"We leave no one behind,\" remember,\" Cullen said, a surly expression twisting his mouth. \"It's part of my oath, so if you think I've done wrong, you can take it up with Byrne when we get back to Dun Seren.\" He stood and took their bowls. \"I'm going to wash these out.\" He paused at the tent flap. \"Maybe I should have left you, but Hammer's refused to move for six days, too. Hasn't even stood up since we got here. And Rab's gone to Dun Seren. Byrne will hear of Gulla whether we make it back or no.\" He turned and stomped off before Keld had a chance to speak.\n\nThe huntsman looked at Drem and gave him a wink.\n\n\"He's a good lad, our Cullen,\" Keld said, \"but he needs a bit of encouragement to use this sometimes.\" He tapped his temple with a finger.\n\n\"I think he was right,\" Drem said with a shrug. \"Rab should have reached Dun Seren by now.\" He paused, looking at Keld. \"Would you have done any different? I don't think you would.\"\n\n\"Ah, maybe you're right, lad,\" Keld said, sighing. \"This knock to my head, and running away from half-breeds and traitors.\" He shook his head. \"Makes me angry.\" He stood slowly, stretched, Fen rising from his spot by the fire."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Best go and see Hammer, then, see if we can convince her to join us in a walk.\"\n\nKeld limped out of the tent, still carrying the remains of his squirrel breakfast. Drem tried to support him, but the huntsman gave Drem a dark look.\n\n\"If I can't walkout of a tent without help then I might as well throw myself back into the river,\" he growled.\n\nCullen returned from the riverbank and followed as they made for Hammer. Fen padded ahead of them. Drem could seethe wolven-hound was favouring his right foreleg, limping a little, but his ribs seemed to have set well enough, which he was relieved about.\n\n\"Hello, lass,\" Keld said gently, as he drew near to Hammer. The bear was sleeping, snoring loudly enough to shake pine cones from boughs in the trees around her. She roused at his voice, raised her head and gave out a rumbling sound that wasn't quite a growl.\n\nKeld crouched down beside the bear and wrapped a fist in the thick fur of her cheek.\n\n\"It's good to see you, lass,\" Keld said. He leaned into the bear, pressing his forehead against her long muzzle. Hammer dwarfed him, her head roughly the size of Keld's crouching body, but as Drem stared at them he thought there was something almost vulnerable about the bear. She made snuffling noises as she sniffed Keld.\n\n\"I miss Sig, too,\" Keld said, and more rumbling echoed from the bear's deep chest. \"She was the best of us, and no denying. And I can see you've had a hard time of it.\" He stroked one hand along scabbed cuts that scarred Hammer's muzzle, then ran his hand down to her shoulder, his fingers probing as he did so. She didn't complain, which Drem thought was a good sign."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Some squirrel?\" Keld said, offering Hammer the remains of his spitted breakfast.\n\nHammer took the food, hardly more than a morsel for her vast maw. Keld gestured with a hand, and Drem ran to their tent, fetched a whole squirrel and hurried back, giving it to Keld.\n\n\"You've had a hard time of it, lass, I've been beaten up, too,\" Keld was saying to the bear.\n\nFen rubbed his body against Hammer's side, whined and licked her mouth.\n\n\"And Fen, too,\" Keld said.\n\n\"Here you go,\" Keld said, pulling more pieces of meat off the skewer, bones and all. \"We're in a bit of a mess, you, me and Fen,\" Keld continued, \"but we can't just give up, now, can we? What would Sig think?\"\n\nMore squirrel went into Hammer's mouth, bones crunching.\n\nKeld stood up.\n\n\"Come on, girl, let's go home,\" he said, and gave a tug on the fur of her cheek. \"Let's do it for Sig. Make her proud.\"\n\nHammer raised her head, looking at him with her small, bright, intelligent eyes, then looked at Fen. The wolven-hound barked at her.\n\nA rumbling sound deep in Hammer's belly, then a slow shifting, like a whale rising out of the sea, and then Hammer was standing, her wounded leg shaking, her shoulder quivering.\n\nDrem looked at them, Keld, Fen and Hammer, the three of them battered and scarred, but not beaten. He felt a lump in his throat.\n\n\"Ah, see, she's just been waiting for Fen to join her and old Keld to wake up,\" Keld said over his shoulder to Drem and Cullen. \"Now, be right quick and break camp.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem took the rearguard position as they walked away from their campsite. Cullen was in the lead, Fen scouting a little ahead of him, Keld and Hammer in between. Keld had refused to even try and sit on Hammer's back, saying it would be too much for the bear, and Drem thought he was probably right. Hammer was upright and steadier than Drem had dared hope, but she was clearly weak on her left side; walking would be enough of atrial for her. They'd stripped all of her tack, bridle and saddlebags that had been strapped to her, and tried to share them out between each other. Anything they didn't class as essential had been left behind, but there was still a lot of extra weight on Drem's back. It didn't help that he had given himself extra baggage, deeming himself bigger and stronger than Cullen.\n\nBesides, if we end up in a fight, Cullen's the one who's most likely to save us with his swordcraft. He'll need his blade in his fist quick, and not have to be worrying about extricating himself from a mountain of packs.\n\nHe can be the fighter, I'll be the packhorse.\n\nDrem looked back at their old camp as they walked deeper into the pinewoods and smiled. If Fritha ever did catch up with them, he'd left a little surprise for her. He'd had six days to fill, after all, and there was only so much trapping he could do.\n\nHe set his face to the trail ahead and followed Hammer's gigantic furry backside.\n\nThey were climbing slowly upwards, curling through a sea of pine, following a path that Drem had tracked a little way during the last few days. Not really a path, more just about the only route that wasn't blocked by boulders, sheer cliffs or snow. It took them roughly south and east, which Drem judged was the way to Dun Seren."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If we ever find away out of the Bonefells.\n\nThey were in uncharted territory, deep within the hills and mountains of the Bonefells, a western region that Olin had never taken Drem into before. From the tales in Kergard, no one else had tried, either. It had a bad reputation, with all manner of wild stories putting off sensible trappers.\n\nAnd now I know why.\n\nIf we manage to stay ahead of Fritha and her followers, we must have come through the worst of it. There can't be anything worse than draigs in these mountains and hills."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv stood in the shadows of one of the alcoves carved into the walls of Drassil's great keep. The walls curved in a vertiginous dome around the colossal tree trunk that the entire fortress of Drassil was built around. Riv was high above the ground, gazing down into the Great Hall where, far below her, people were gathering, flowing in through the wide gates and sitting upon the tiered stone steps of the Great Hall. Even from her lofty vantage point she could see almost every detail of those who came in. That was something else that had changed about her: her vision sharper and keener since she had grown her wings.\n\nRiv saw Bleda enter, felt something shift in her chest at the sight of him. She remembered him calling to her, that night on the road as they had been journeying back to Drassil. She knew he wanted her to explain why she was behaving like this, to tell him what was happening. She'd wanted nothing more than to fly back down to him and tell him everything. He must have heard Aphra's revelation at the cabin, that Kol washer father. Just the thought of it filled her with shame. She had wanted to tell Bleda of all that had happened in the cabin, that she had made a deal with him, sworn an oath, but only to protect Bleda and her friends. But something inside her would not, could not, tell him.\n\nHow could she tell him that she had made a deal with Kol! The man who had killed Bleda's brother and sister! Hard enough for Bleda to learn that Kol washer father. She still could not grasp it fully herself, and she felt a shame deep as her bones about it. There was a logical part of her that knew the shame she felt was ridiculous, that it was out of her control, that it was as deranged as feeling shame if you'd been born male or female, or in this town instead of that one but, nevertheless, that shame was there, like a worm in her veins. And, to be honest, the logical side of her never usually came out on top."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bleda walked straight-backed, with a touch of the rolling gait that hinted at the master-horseman that Riv knew him to be."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His face was set, his cold-face in place, eyes scanning the room, taking everything in. This was the Bleda she had seen over the last six or seven years, but now she knew what she saw was merely the tip of the iceberg above water. There were great depths to him hidden beneath the surface.\n\nEllac and a few of his honour guard were ranged about Bleda, all stony-faced, as Riv would expect of the Sirak, and with them came Jin, Princess of the Cheren Clan and Bleda's betrothed. Riv felt her lips twist at the sight of the young woman. Not only had she entirely forgotten that Jin and Bleda had been betrothed as some kind of political union to bring the Clans of the Sirak and Cheren under the protective wing and control of the Ben-Elim, but she had also forgotten the depth of her dislike for Jin. She could not stand her arrogance, the way she spoke to Riv, or even looked at her. Or the way she looked at Bleda. Jin sat next to Bleda on the tiered steps, shuffled closer to him, leaned closer still and whispered something in his ear.\n\nRiv felt an almost overwhelming desire to fly down there, grab Jin by her hair and hoist her into the air. With a shuddering breath she fought the urge and forced herself to look away.\n\nA host of Ben-Elim were spread amongst the ever-growing crowd, thousands of them, more than Riv had ever seen before. Many Ben-Elim existed in the Banished Lands, three thousand, four thousand of them, maybe, scattered throughout the Land of the Faithful. There were over two thousand of them in the Great Hall right now.\n\nWhite-Wings, the elite warriors of the Ben-Elim, numbered in the region often thousand swords, most of them garrisoned along the borders of the Land of the Faithful. Between one and two thousand usually remained within Drassil's walls, guardians of the statues of Asroth and Meical, as well as a reserve force to deal with outbreaks of rebellion or the discovery of a Kadoshim nest. Far more than two thousand White-Wings were filing into the Great Hall. Ben-Elim and White-Wings-they had all returned from the four corners of the Land of the Faithful at Kol's summons, at the news of Israfil's death. At least two or threescore more Ben-Elim flew in lazy circles around the enormous expanse that towered over the hall, Riv recognizing them as some of Kol's most trusted men."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "On the ground, Kol sat upon a carved chair; the other chairs either side of him that were usually filled by Ben-Elim or giants were all empty. Behind him, though, were ranks of loyal Ben-Elim, three, four hundred at least, their chainmail bright, and on either flank were units of White-Wings, leather and steel polished and gleaming. On Kol's right stood Aphra with her hundred, Vald and Jost standing amongst their ranks, and on Kol's left Lorina with her hundred.\n\nFurther still behind Kol, the iron-coated figures of Asroth and Meical stood upon a wide dais, frozen and locked in their perpetual conflict. Meical, once High Captain of the Ben-Elim, was upon his knees, grasping at Asroth, the Lord of the Fallen. Asroth's leathery wings were spread, held in mid-flight, Meical pulling him back. One of Asroth's hands gripped Meical's throat; the other arm was pulled back as if to strike at him, except that now there was only a stump where Asroth's fist had been.\n\nBleda was here when the Kadoshim and their acolytes attacked Drassil and carved Asroth's right hand from his arm. He said he saw Asroth blink.\n\nSomething changed in the hall below her, the murmured hum of a crowd settling. Kol had stood from his seat.\n\nRiv sucked in a deep breath, knowing what was to come.\n\nHating what was to come.\n\n\"Greetings, people of the Land of the Faithful,\" Kol said. By some ingenious effect of the curved architecture of the hall, his voice echoed around the chamber, effortlessly filling the huge room. \"Both humankind and Ben-Elim, I am grateful that you have come so quickly at such a dark time.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He stepped forwards, everything about him assured and confident.\n\n\"Our high captain, Israfil, is dead, slain by a dread conspiracy amongst our own.\" He hung his head. \"It has been the greatest of tragedies.\"\n\nMurmurs rippled amongst the crowd.\n\nA Ben-Elim stepped out from the crowd, tall and finely handsome, dark hair pulled tight to his head and tied at the nape. He wore a cuirass of polished leather, embossed upon it a serpent, body coiling in a circle, at its apex two heads meeting, fangs bared. About his neck was a silver torc of twisted silver, the same two serpents' heads meeting. Riv recognized him as Sariel, a captain of the Ben-Elim rarely seen at Drassil. He led the legions who guarded the south-eastern border. The crowd hushed.\n\n\"Who?\" he said.\n\nKol met Sariel's eye and waited for the hall to become utterly silent.\n\n\"Adonai,\" Kol said.\n\nGasps and outraged shouts rippled around the chamber.\n\nThe Ben-Elim Adonai had been one of Kol's closest friends, one of his inner circle. He was also the father of Fia's baby. Israfil the Lord Protector had put Adonai on trial in this very room, found him guilty of consorting with a White-Wing. Israfil had drawn a sword and dealt out the punishment himself, hacking Adonai's wings from his back and exiling him from the Banished Lands.\n\nKol was telling the truth when he said it was Adonai who had slain Israfil. Riv had seen it with her own eyes. But Kol wasn't telling the whole truth. He did not say that when Adonai plunged a sword into Israfil's chest the Lord Protector was on his knees, Kol standing behind him with his knife to Israfil's throat."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And who is to say different of Adonai now. He is dead, slain by Bleda because Adonai was trying to kill me.\n\n\"Adonai did not accomplish this dark deed alone,\" Kol said to Sariel, though his voice filled the chamber. \"He had help; there were traitors within our own. Garidas, captain of a White-Wing hundred, aided him.\"\n\nRiv snorted a shocked laugh. Even though Kol had told her all that he was going to say, hearing him saying it out loud to all of Drassil made her feel physically sick.\n\nI liked Garidas. It is not right that he is blamed for this.\n\nBut what can I do to defend him? I am in this too deep now, cannot see a path out of this dark place. There is nothing I can do without breaking my oath to Kol and sentencing Bleda to death.\n\nShe realized her fists were clenched, knuckles white and popping.\n\n\"These are dark days, and filled with mourning,\" Kol continued. \"But the Banished Lands are not safe, the Kadoshim are stirring and we must be ever vigilant, must fulfil our sacred calling to protect mankind. We need to elect anew Lord Protector, and soon. Someone strong enough and wise enough to lead us through this war and claim the victory that has eluded us for so long.\" He looked away from Sariel now, eyes slowly taking in the vast crowd that filled the hall.\n\n\"As his chosen second in command, I nominate myself for the task,\" Kol said, spreading his arms and wings wide.\n\nA total silence.\n\nSariel's wings stirred, somehow commanding attention.\n\n\"The appointment of anew Lord Protector is a matter for the Ben-Elim to decide,\" he said. \"In council.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I grieve Israfil's loss as much as anyone,\" Kol continued, voice raised for the crowd, ignoring Sariel. \"But we must think of the future. The Land of the Faithful is not home to just us Ben-Elim; the races of men and giants dwell here. They should have a say.\"\n\nMurmuring spreading through the crowd, scattered shouts and cheers from many, especially large groups of White-Wings, but not them alone. Many of the free folk of Drassil, too-traders, smiths, farmers, all manner of people.\n\nSariel frowned. Riv noticed many of the Ben-Elim amidst the crowd shifting uncomfortably.\n\n\"This is anew world, anew age, and we should change with it, not keep it leashed,\" Kol said. \"I propose anew order, where Ben-Elim and mankind rule together. Israfil was a great leader, but he had one foot still in the Otherworld, was clinging to away of life that we left behind over a hundred years ago.\"\n\n\"You should be silent,\" Sariel said furiously. \"This should be discussed in the Ben-Elim's council.\"\n\nSome jeers from the crowd, spreading. Riv knew who had started them: White-Wings allied to Kol set the task before this meeting had been convened.\n\n\"Why not speak freely, now?\" Kol said. \"I have nothing to hide. Do you, Sariel?\"\n\nAll eyes in the chamber turned upon the dark-haired Ben-Elim, whose face twitched.\n\n\"Of course not,\" Sariel said.\n\nKol is cunning, and a master of misdirection.\n\n\"And we are the Ben-Elim, protectors of these people, not their rulers. That is why we need to elect anew Lord Protector.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sariel stared at Kol, eyes wide with shock. They slowly narrowed.\n\n\"Stop this,\" Sariel said.\n\n\"These are not mere words,\" Kol said, continuing to ignore Sariel. \"I am proposing anew order, one that embraces these Banished Lands and the people who dwell within it, a land and people that we have come to value, to respect, to love.\"\n\nLove! Does Kol even know what that word means? He talks well, though, but then, he always has.\n\n\"And here is a symbol of my commitment to forge this new world.\" Kol looked up at Riv.\n\nRiv took a deep breath.\n\nShe had kept herself hidden since her return to Drassil, Kol flying her in during the dead of night, and hiding her away in the tower above the keep, once Israfil's chambers, but now taken by Kol.\n\nOthers were following Kol's gaze, looking upwards into the heights of the domed chamber.\n\nRiv hesitated in the shadows of the alcove, knew that her world was about to change again.\n\nHow am I here? How have I let myself become so ensnared in this mess, in Kol's scheming? But whatever I do, wherever I go, I will be reviled and hunted. This is a chance to change that. Avery slim chance, granted.\n\nDeep down she knew there was more to her choices than self-preservation. Her eyes searched out Aphra, saw her staring up at her, then she looked to Bleda, felt the anger and hardness within her soften, just fora moment.\n\nShe stepped out of the alcove and dropped into the huge expanse of the chamber, arms open wide, and let herself fall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "People in the chamber gasped, pointed, a scream here and there.\n\nAnd then Riv spread her wings.\n\nA pulse of her wings checked her fall and fora moment she hovered high above the crowd, then tucked her wings in tight, dropping into a dive. A grin split her face, for despite everything, she loved to fly. People leaped away as she sped towards the ground, at the last moment spreading her wings wide to swoop low over the crowd, spinning in the air, spiralling up and looping so that she was behind and above Kol, where she hovered for long moments with slow, powerful beats of her wings, letting all seethe colour of her wings, the shape of her body, taking in the fact that she was not a Ben-Elim. That she was a woman and a half-breed. But a half-breed with feathered wings, not the skin and leather that the Kadoshim spawned.\n\nAnd she was wearing a black cuirass with two white wings embossed upon it, and a short-sword at her hip, the uniform of the White-Wings, Drassil's elite troops.\n\nThen she touched down, wings folding behind her shoulders, and she stood next to Kol.\n\nThings looked a lot different now that she was upon the ground. Her distance had given her a certain objectivity and detachment from the proceedings. Now she could seethe looks on people's faces, hear their individual mutterings, smell their fear. It felt overwhelming.\n\nA deep breath to keep the anger at bay.\n\nRemember the plan.\n\n\"What is this?\" Sariel said, revulsion twisting his face. He strode forwards, his hand going to the sword at his hip.\n\nRiv forced herself to remain still and calm, which was a lot harder to do than it had sounded when she and Kol had spoken of this moment, of how she must react. Especially when a Ben-Elim was coming at her, murder in his eyes. Her fingers twitched for her sword, but she kept her arm rigid at her side."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As one, the Ben-Elim behind Kol took a step forwards, the White-Wings to either side of him also moving, shields snapping up with an echoing crack. And suddenly Ben-Elim were circling above them, Kol's followers dropping lower.\n\nSariel paused, looking about and up.\n\n\"What are you doing, Kol?\" His eyes were drawn back to Riv. \"This thing is an abomination,\" Sariel hissed; voices in the crowd called out their agreement.\n\nCries calling for Riv's execution rang out, her head snapping in the direction of the voices, searching for them. A white-haired Ben-Elim, about him a dozen White-Wings, men and women who had journeyed to Drassil with Sariel. She glared at them, tried to breathe deep and slow, knowing full well what would happen if she let her anger overwhelm her.\n\nRage.\n\nPain.\n\nThe executioner's block.\n\n\"Many of you know me,\" Riv said, a tremor in her voice, part rage, all emotion. She looked around, saw thousands of faces staring back at her, shouts drowning her out.\n\n\"LET HER SPEAK,\" Kol bellowed, and silence settled. \"Listen to her, before you judge,\" Kol said, calmer.\n\nRiv took a deep breath, gulped. \"Many of you know me,\" she repeated. \"I have lived here, at Drassil, my whole life. I have dreamed of becoming a White-Wing, of standing in the shield wall, of serving the Land of the Faithful, protecting its people, fighting against the evil that is the Kadoshim in our Great War. That is who I am, inhere.\" She put a fist to her heart."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who is your father?\" Sariel snapped. \"Who committed this obscenity?\"\n\n\"She does not know,\" Kol said, stepping forwards. \"And it does not matter. Many here know Riven, have grownup with her, taught her or trained beside her in the weapons-field. Marched on campaigns with her.\" He stopped, looking around at nodding heads.\n\n\"She is an abomination, evidence of a great sin,\" Sariel said. He was staring at Riv with disgust, eyes wide, drawn to her wings.\n\n\"Aye, she is evidence of the sins of her father, mayhap,\" Kol said before Riv had a chance to say anything. \"But she is not guilty of that sin herself. How can she beheld accountable for the crime that another has committed, long before she was even born?\"\n\nRiv's eyes scanned the crowd, saw expressions shifting, thoughtful, even a few nodding heads.\n\nThis is hopeful, she thought.\n\nShe looked at Sariel, who was staring death at her.\n\nNot so hopeful.\n\n\"She has wings,\" Sariel snarled.\n\n\"So, she has wings now.\" Kol shrugged. \"She is the same person that we have all known for seventeen years. She was not evil before; she has not become evil overnight. If there is any sin, it lies with her parentage, not her. She is innocent, guiltless. How can anyone of us beheld accountable for our parents' deeds? If that were so, every wrongdoing that has a judgement meted out would be inflicted upon the children of the wrongdoer. If a man commits murder and goes to the gallows for it, do we hang his sons and daughters, too? If a woman steals, do we cutoff the right hands of her children?\" Kol paused, allowing the implications of his words to sink into the crowd."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have marched on a hundred campaigns with my sister's hundred,\" Riv said. \"Wished only to serve Elyon. I am one of the Faithful. I am a White-Wing, but with real wings.\" Riv grinned at Sariel, allowed her anger that small pleasure.\n\nSariel returned her stare, pinpricks of colour flushing his cheeks.\n\n\"Sariel, we Ben-Elim are Elyon's representatives on the earth,\" Kol continued calmly, sounding like the voice of reason, his voice inflected with hints of friendship, as if he were an arbitrator in a dispute, \"and Elyon is just and fair. He would not condemn the innocent.\" He raised his arms to the crowd. \"He would not condemn Riv fora crime she has not committed, or any others like her. And neither will I.\" He looked at Sariel. \"Would you?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Sariel said without pause or thought.\n\nPeople in the crowd gasped, some jeered him.\n\nKol shook his head sadly, playing every inch the disappointed moral high ground. \"Let the people decide,\" Kol said. \"And, also let them decide who is to be their Lord Protector.\" He unfurled his wings, beat them and rose into the air, hovering above Sariel. \"Today you have the chance to choose your own future,\" he shouted to the host that filled the Great Hall. \" Today you make your own history.\n\n\"Would you condemn Riv to death for the sins of her father? Whoever he is.\"\n\nA silence, growing longer, Riv feeling she was standing on the brink of an abyss, one foot hovering over it, unsteady.\n\n\"Let her live,\" a voice cried out. Riv's head snapped towards it, and she was looking straight at Bleda. He returned her gaze and said it again-shouted it this time-and Ellac joined his voice to Bleda's, some of his guards, too."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then others in the crowd were shouting it out: Ben-Elim who followed Kol scattered amongst the crowd, but others as well, White-Wings whom Riv had trained with, market stallholders whom she had bought food from, haggled with, blacksmiths she had laughed with, and then it felt as if the entire crowd was roaring, \"LIVE, LIVE, LIVE.\"\n\nRiv blew out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. A smile spread across her face.\n\nKol smiled at Riv, and then at Sariel, who looked as if he'd just swallowed a bucketful of angry wasps.\n\nThe crowd quietened.\n\n\"And who would you choose to lead you?\" Kol called out. \"Who would you trust not only to lead you against the Kadoshim, but to take us into anew age of peace and harmony? Him?\"\n\nKol pointed at Sariel.\n\n\"Stand for him, now, if you wish him to lead you.\"\n\n\"Kol. This is not the way,\" Sariel was hissing, but people were already standing, some shouting Sariel's name. It was mostly Ben-Elim in the crowd who stood-more than two hundred, fewer than three hundred. White-Wings joined them-again, hundreds, not thousands, and a sprinkling of others.\n\n\"Or me?\" Kol cried out as Sariel's followers sat.\n\nIt seemed to Riv that the entire host stood as one, though of course they did not. The end was the same, though, the balance so obviously, overwhelmingly, in Kol's favour. Ben-Elim and White-Wings in the crowd roared Kol's name, until Riv fought the urge to clasp her hands over her ears.\n\n\"This is not over,\" Sariel said quietly to Kol. Only Riv heard over the din of the crowd. \"The Ben-Elim council will meet. This means nothing, and you know it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is over, Sariel. Look about you.\" Kol gestured at the cheering crowd, smiling his beautiful smile. \"This is everything.\"\n\nSariel looked about the chamber, listening to the horde roaring Kol's name. He turned to leave, other Ben-Elim stepping from the crowd, some White-Wings with them, waiting for Sariel.\n\nSariel looked at Riv. \"She is an abomination,\" he said again, quietly, shaking his head.\n\n\"No,\" Kol said. \"She is the future.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha crept through the trees, Morn walking beside her, a dozen of her Red Right Hand spread either side of them both, Gunil and her Ferals further back. Gunil was walking alongside Claw, who had made a sudden recovery from her wounds, the inflammation and infections peaking and then fading. The forest was still and quiet, only the sound of the wind soughing in the trees, the dripping of snow as it melted from boughs. Another sound filtered into her senses, soft as a sigh at first, growing as she stole through the trees. Constant.\n\nThe river. I can hear the river. We must be close.\n\nMorn stopped and held up a hand, palm splayed, facing down. She pointed through the trees.\n\nFritha stared, could only see trees, what looked like a granite boulder in the distance.\n\nMorn walked on, but Fritha put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her, at the same time signalling for two of her followers to goon ahead.\n\nMorn scowled at Fritha, but she obeyed.\n\nHow long will that last, I wonder? Until her wing heals?\n\nMorn had all but collapsed when Arn had carried her into the hold's feast-hall. Fritha had tended to her, spoken words of power over the wound in Morn's wing, a deep cut where the muscle and cartilage that supported her wing-arch met the muscle and tendons in her back. It was healing, but not fully recovered yet.\n\nFritha had left Arn with Elise and five of her Red Right Hand to act as guards for the prisoners at the hold. It left Fritha with ten of her acolytes, plus thirteen of her surviving Ferals. Not the greatest warband in the world, but Morn had told Fritha that she had only fought against two men, Drem and the younger warrior, the red-haired fire-cracker, Cullen. Though she had seen a figure inside their tent, which must have been the huntsman, the fact he had not joined the fight against Morn suggested he was wounded."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Wounded, I hope. Dead he's no use tome.\n\nTwenty-six of us. We are enough to take two healthy men and one wounded. Gulla will be pleased when I return with Drem and two warriors of the Order; success will erase my failure to stop word of us reaching Dun Seren.\n\nThey were close to the boulder now, her two men scouting ahead, flitting shadows between the trees.\n\nMorn stopped again, frowning.\n\n\"What is it?\" Fritha whispered.\n\n\"Their tent is gone,\" the half-breed whispered.\n\nThere was the sound of snapping branches, a thud, followed by a scream.\n\nFritha put her fingers to her lips and whistled, heard an answering howl behind her and then she was rushing forwards, past Morn, her spear levelled, eyes searching everywhere. Screams echoed through the trees.\n\nOne of the two scouts was standing before a hole in the ground. Fritha reached him and looked down, saw a pit filled with stakes, the other scout skewered through the belly, shoulder and thigh, eyes glazing-then still.\n\nThis is Drem's work.\n\nFritha turned in a slow circle, scanning the area, trees spread wide, though the canopy was dense above. The Ferals appeared out of the gloom, the bulk of Gunil and his bear not far behind them.\n\n\"Cuardaigh,\" Fritha ordered, and the Ferals dropped to all fours, began sniffing and snuffling through the area.\n\nThe ground vibrated as Gunil joined her, his bear a score of paces behind. He stared around the empty space, saw the marks in the ground where a tent had stood."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They're gone,\" the giant said, then he looked down into the stake pit. \"He's dead.\"\n\nFritha gave Gunil a dark look.\n\n\"Search the area, with care,\" she called out.\n\n\"Their tent was here,\" Morn said, pointing at the ground just beyond the pit. She stretched, arching her back and extending her wings, a tentative flexing.\n\n\"It feels good,\" Morn said, rolling one shoulder.\n\n\"Be carefu-\" But Morn was already jumping into the air and beating her wings. They took her weight, and she hovered there a few moments, then rose slowly in a wide spiral.\n\n\"I will see things differently from up here,\" she called down.\n\nOne of Fritha's Ferals was snorting at the base of a huge boulder. Then it stood on two legs, sniffed the air and trotted off, away from the sound of the river.\n\nFritha followed.\n\nIt led her along a wide path that sloped gently upwards. Abruptly the Feral stopped, looking down at its foot. A length of twine had snagged around it.\n\n\"NO,\" Fritha shouted as the Feral gave a tug, snapping the twine.\n\nA whistling sound, a thud, something cutting through air and then the Feral was battered from his feet and hurled a dozen paces, slamming into a tree. It slid to the ground, blood leaking from nose and mouth, bones protruding from its smashed ribcage.\n\nA felled tree trunk hung suspended across the path, creaking as it swung back and forth.\n\nFritha ran to her fallen Feral, saw it was already too late. She crouched beside it, stroked its misshapen jaws, then she raised her head to the trees and screeched her fury."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She blinked away tears and saw Morn standing over her.\n\n\"Come, my spear-sister,\" Morn said, holding out a hand to Fritha. \"We will hunt them together.\"\n\nFritha looked at Morn's proffered hand a few moments, then reached out and took it, rising to her feet.\n\n\"We have found their tracks,\" Morn said. \"That way.\" She pointed south-east, into dense woodland.\n\nFritha nodded, and without a word she was moving, along the path Morn had pointed to.\n\nA beating of wings and Morn was in the air, while the Ferals and Red Right Hand fell into place around Fritha. It made her feel strong.\n\nDrem, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth, and make you pay for what you have done."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fen stopped in front of Drem, the wolven-hound's ears pricked forwards, a low snarl and his hackles raised in a ridge between his shoulders. Drem pulled to a sudden halt, swaying with the weight of the packs upon his back.\n\nThey were standing close to the ridge of along, shallow incline that they'd been steadily climbing the whole day, pine still thick about them, for which Drem was grateful. He had a compulsion to check the skies continually for leathery wings. Without thinking, he found himself looking skywards again, although most of it was obscured by layered boughs of pine. Here and there agleam of light broke through, a few snowflakes drifting down like white leaves.\n\nDoes it snow eternally in the Bonefells?\n\n\"What is it?\" Keld said, joining Drem. The huntsman was sweating and pale but had managed to keep walking from sunset to sundown for the last four days. Keld ate like a starving man each evening and morning, and slept like the dead each night. Drem thought he saw a slight improvement in the huntsman each day.\n\nDrem pointed to Fen, who was alert, totally focused on something he could sense or hear.\n\nDrem couldn't hear anything.\n\n\"What's the holdup?\" Cullen breathed, striding up from behind Hammer.\n\n\"Whisht,\" Keld said, holding up a hand and cocking his head to one side.\n\nCullen was silent for long moments. The gentle snowfall had a muting effect on the pinewoods, as if the world were holding its breath.\n\n\"I can't hear anyth-\"\n\nThen they all heard it. A distant roar."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Behind them Hammer rumbled, deep in her belly.\n\nDrem looked at Keld.\n\n\"It sounds like... a bear,\" Drem said. He put his hand to his throat, found his pulse.\n\n\"Aye,\" Keld agreed.\n\nThey heard it again, clearer. Beyond the ridge, almost dead south.\n\n\"Think we should go around,\" Drem said, thinking of Fritha's giant and his bear.\n\n\"Good idea,\" Keld said.\n\n\"Be quicker to go straight on,\" Cullen said. \"Kill it, whatever it is, if we have to.\"\n\n\"Do you never get tired of fighting, lad?\" Keld snapped.\n\n\"No,\" Cullen said without hesitation, looking at Keld as if he were mad.\n\nAnother roar, sounding louder, closer. There was an odd note in it. Drem had heard a lot of roaring from bears lately, challenging, fighting. This wasn't quite like that. Still...\n\n\"We'll go around,\" Keld said firmly.\n\nHammer snorted behind them, dug a gout of forest litter with a paw and broke into a lumbering run, surging past them, limping a little, but showing more energy than at any point since she'd leaped into the river.\n\n\"What's got under her skin?\" Keld frowned.\n\n\"Don't know, but whatever it is, we can't let her face it alone,\" Cullen said, hefting the pack on his back and breaking into a laboured run.\n\nKeld scowled. \"Damn it.\" And then he was running, too, Fen keeping pace with him.\n\nDrem sighed and followed.\n\nCresting the ridge, a gentle downward slope running away from him, Drem glimpsed to his right the sharp rise of a cliff face running parallel to his course, probably a few hundred paces away. To his left was a sea of trees."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Another roar, louder, that same odd edge to it that struck Drem as unusual. Then it dawned on him what it was.\n\nFear.\n\nNo; terror.\n\nHe caught up with Keld, the pack on Drem's back actually increasing his speed as he ran downhill. He saw the bulk of Hammer ahead, and close behind her Cullen, legs pumping away like a racing hare as he tried to catch up with the bear.\n\nDrem glanced at Keld, saw that he was sweating and blowing a little, but looking as if he had it all under control.\n\nThe pinewoods were opening up, huge boulders scattered around them, looking like the long-buried skulls of giants poking from the forest floor. Snow was thicker on the ground as the density of the treetop canopy lessened.\n\nAn ear-splitting roar, very close now, and then Hammer was slowing. Drem heard an answering roar from her. Cullen finally caught up with her and skidded to a halt beside the bear.\n\nThirty paces from them, Drem's breath and pounding heart was all he could hear. He saw Cullen shoulder off his pack, draw his sword.\n\nNever a good sign.\n\nDrem drew his seax and a hand-axe in preparation. There were the two bears roaring, the sound of timber splintering, and something else, a sound beneath the clangour, constant, though ebbing and flowing-a hissing, like steam.\n\nAnd then Drem was there, running around Hammer, almost colliding with Cullen.\n\nFor long moments he could not understand what was happening in front of them.\n\nStruggling in the centre of a glade, there was a giant white bear."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem's breath caught in his throat as his hand went to the bear claw around his neck.\n\nIs it my bear? The one that nearly killed me and Da?\n\nHe tried to check if it was missing a claw on its right paw, but it was impossible to tell, because the bear was fighting for its life.\n\nBone-white things, like huge coils of pearly rope, were looped and twisted around the bear-around its torso, its neck, its legs. Fora moment Drem thought the bear must have become caught in some giant kind of net, with rope as thick as Drem's chest, except that the rope around the white bear had teeth. More than one set of teeth.\n\nAnd they were ripping the bear to shreds.\n\nKeld skidded to a halt beside Drem.\n\n\"Wyrms!\" he hissed.\n\nFen crouched and growled, baring his teeth in a savage snarl.\n\nHave I stepped out of the real into a world of faery tales?\n\nThe tales told of an ancient creature, bred thousands of years ago by giants and used in the War of Treasures; giant wyrms, snake-like, but bigger, much, much bigger, and the wyrms in front of Drem were a thousand times bigger than any adder he'd ever seen. For once, the tales didn't seem to have exaggerated.\n\nThey were huge, red-eyed sinuous lengths of scale and muscle, their jaws flat-muzzled and rowed with teeth. Drem counted at least four sets of eyes and teeth, though it was hard to understand where one wyrm ended and another began, not helped by the way the white bear was lurching around the glade, trying to break free of the coiled loops that were binding and constricting his movement."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The white bear was huge, at least ahead taller and wider than Hammer, but it was obvious that it was losing this fight. Bloodstained its white fur, oozing from dozens of puncture wounds, and the coils of the wyrms were wrapping ever-tighter about its torso, as well as seeking to tether the bear's legs. Its jaws were wide, clamping onto scales. The bear's teeth sank deep and it shook its head savagely, blood and scales spraying, but the wyrm just hissed and bared its fangs, twisting and bucking in muscular spasms to break free.\n\nThe white bear slashed with a paw, scouring red lines across the wyrm's body, and Drem saw fora clear moment that one claw was missing from the bear's paw.\n\nIt is my bear, then.\n\nHis instinct was to go and help this bear, though a voice whispered in his head that he was mad to think of such a thing.\n\nIt is the wild, nature's way, the voice said. The strong kill and eat the weak. You have done it a thousand times yourself.\n\nAnd yet...\n\nIt was his white bear, and he felt a sympathy for it, some kind of bond. The first time he'd encountered it, the bear had tried to kill him and his da. Not the best beginning, he acknowledged. They had only just escaped, Drem cutting a claw from its paw, which he had worn around his neck ever since. It had not been long after that corpses had started turning up in the forests north of Kergard, torn and mauled with tooth and claw. Old Bodil, Calder the smith, Hask, Fritha's grandfather. Even the death of Olin, Drem's da, had been attributed to the white bear. But Drem had discovered the truth of it, that the true murderers were Fritha and her giant's bear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The white bear had been hunted by the people of Kergard, trapped and caught, dragged back to the town and caged as atrophy. It had been close to a bear-baiting from the town's huntsmen and their hounds.\n\nDrem had set the bear free.\n\nEven now he didn't quite understand why he had done so, only that he had felt a huge sympathy for it, this magnificent creature of the wild, blamed and about to be murdered for acts it had not committed.\n\nThe white bear roared, rage, pain, terror, all rolled into one, and Drem took a step towards it.\n\nDon't be a fool. Walk on-you must reach Dun Seren, a voice in his head said. Those wyrms will kill you all. And besides, why try and save a bear that would be as likely to eat you as to thank you?\n\nDespite the voice in his head, he took another step forwards, felt Keld's grip on his wrist, looked at the huntsman, saw Cullen staring at him as well.\n\nAnd then Hammer was moving, roaring, throwing herself at the wyrms wrapped around the white bear.\n\nCullen shrugged, grinned and charged.\n\nSo did Drem.\n\nHe heard Keld swear behind him, then the sound of the huntsman and Fen following in his wake.\n\nSnow on the ground had been churned to pink sludge. Drem's boots slipped as he chopped with his hand-axe at a twist of wyrm-coil that was looped around the white bear's foreleg. The axe pierced scales, but it was tough, and the blade did not sink deep. He stabbed with his seax, this time piercing flesh, his blade sinking to the hilt, dark, glutinous blood thick as porridge leaking from the wound, but Drem wasn't sure what real damage he had inflicted. The wyrm was not responding, as if it hadn't even felt his blows."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To his right he glimpsed Hammer sink her teeth into wyrm flesh, puncturing deep, and in a heartbeat a wyrm head was rearing, loosening a coil about the white bear, hissing, its malevolent red eyes fixing on Hammer.\n\nIt felt that, Drem thought.\n\nThe wyrm's jaws opened unnaturally wide, full of too many teeth, as its head drew back and struck at Hammer. She jerked away, but the wyrm was so swift, its teeth clamping onto her neck. Hammer shook violently, but the wyrm's bite held fast. A flash of steel, and Cullen was there, screaming, chopping at the wyrm's neck, Hammer retreating, tugging the wyrm with her, dragging its coiled length away from the white bear.\n\nThe wyrm did not seem to want to let go its grip on either bear, tail coiled around the white bear, fangs sunk deep into Hammer.\n\nGouts of flesh and viscous blood flew through the air as Cullen struck and hacked.\n\nDrem left his seax and hand-axe in the wyrm he'd attacked, pivoted and drew his father's sword. Raising it high overhead, he rushed over to Cullen and Hammer, bringing his blade down diagonally-lightning strike, his father's voice whispered in his head-slicing deep into the wyrm flesh, the treacle-like blood seeping out. He raised and cut again, and then again, deeper into the great rent in the wyrm's torso, until a white fluid started mixing with the dark red of its blood. Cullen stood the other side of the wyrm, his blade rising and falling in a frenzy, more butcher than sword master.\n\nDrem glimpsed bone through the carnage of his blows, felt his sword grate on vertebrae. The wyrm, finally relinquishing its grip on Hammer, twisted to look unsteadily at Drem and Cullen, much of its supportive muscle and sinew severed. It bared its fangs at them, snapping at Cullen, but Hammer's paw swatted it to the ground, the two men still hacking frenziedly, until, with a final blow from Drem, the severed head fell. Its lower body and tail twitched and spasmed, and then was still."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hammer gave out a victory roar, stamped on the wyrm's head for good measure, and then leaped forwards, swiping at another wyrm wrapped around the white bear.\n\n\"Some help!\" Keld cried out. Drem turned to seethe huntsman clinging to the back of another wyrm, just below its head, legs and one arm wrapped around the wyrm, his hand-axe rising and falling as he slashed and hacked. This wyrm had detached itself from the white bear and was giving all of its attention to Keld. Fen was leaping in, biting, ripping out chunks of flesh, then jumping away as the tail whipped at him.\n\nDrem and Cullen ran to Keld, began their butcher's work again.\n\nA tail-strike caught Cullen, sent him spinning through the air.\n\nThe wyrm's head came for Drem, darting forwards, quick as thought.\n\nDrem stabbed his sword up, by immense luck more than skill connected his sword-point with the wyrm's lower jaw, a burst of instinctive terror adding a wild strength to his blow, punching on up into its head, pinning the jaws together. It flopped to the ground, dragging Drem with it, Keld rolling away, the wyrm's head shaking frenziedly. Finding purchase with his feet, Drem pushed, driving his sword deeper, felt it scrape on the top of the wyrm's skull. He twisted his sword. A ripple of spasms through the wyrm's body as it died.\n\nDrem stood, heaved his blade free.\n\nThen he was flying through the air, lost his grip on his sword and rolled a dozen paces. Scrambling to his knees, he saw a wyrm speeding towards him, jaws open, fangs dripping. He lurched to one side as the head stabbed at him, fast as a spear-strike. Ashe staggered to his feet, the tail wrapped around his ankles. His natural inclination was to run, but as his ankles were crushed tight together, all he managed to do was fall over. Another coil looped around him. He started to panic, searched fora weapon-his belt empty, his sword out of reach-resorted to punching ineffectually at the thick coils as they constricted around him. Another ripple of muscle and another few loops curled around him, pinning one arm to his side, covering his stomach and lower chest."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He screamed. Regretted that when another constriction squeezed his breath out of him, made it difficult for him to inhale.\n\nThe wyrm's head reared in front of him, a malignant hiss, a tongue flickering, filled with the stench of rotting meat.\n\nCullen appeared, sword stabbing into the wyrm's mouth, the wyrm rearing away, its coils loosening around Drem. He sucked in air greedily and squirmed free. Keld offered him a hand and helped him rise. Cullen followed the wyrm, slashed up, left to right in a diagonal cut, like a scabbard-draw, opened a great rent in the wyrm's torso. Its head lunged at him, even as he stabbed straight into its belly, its jaws opening, vomiting blood as Cullen's blade sank deep, and two-handed he ripped it upwards, opening its guts as if he were filleting a giant fish.\n\nThe wyrm's jaws closed around Cullen's head and shoulders, but it was dying, its strength deserting it, the power in its jaws fading. Teeth locked around Cullen, scraping on his skin, but not piercing much deeper than that. The wyrm collapsed in an explosion of blood and slime, dragging Cullen down, burying him in a mountain of its entrails.\n\nAn earth-shaking roaring grabbed their attention, Drem looking to see Hammer and the white bear clamping jaws into another wyrm, both of them shaking their muscled necks, tugging the wyrm in two directions. There was a tearing sound as they chewed and tore the creature in half.\n\nThe last surviving wyrm uncoiled itself from the white bear's neck and wove unsteadily from the glade, disappearing through foliage into the cover of woodland in half a heartbeat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The white bear lifted its head and roared, spittle flying, the ground quaking. It took a staggering step after its fleeing attacker, then a shudder rippled through its body and its front legs collapsed. It toppled onto its side, its chest rising and falling in short, shallow gasps.\n\n\"Help... me,\" a muffled voice called.\n\nCullen!\n\nDrem and Keld ran to the pile of dead wyrm, heaved its lifeless bulk away to reveal Cullen buried in a heap of offal, slime and putrescence.\n\nCullen sat up, looked at Drem, wiped wyrm slime from his face. Spat more of it up. Retched. There was no grin from him now.\n\n\"Drem, a question.\" Cullen spat out more slime. \"Why the hell would you choose to live out here?\"\n\nDrem stared at Cullen, started to chuckle, looked at Keld, who laughed, too, and then Drem was throwing his head back and laughing from the pit of his stomach. He hadn't laughed in along while, and especially not like this, a deep, uncontrolled laughter that shook his core, rattled his bones and made his jaw ache.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, cuffing tears away when he could finally draw breath. \"At least things can't get any worse.\"\n\n\"Can they not?\" Cullen said, eyes drifting up.\n\nDrem followed his gaze, and saw a black silhouette high above them, framed against the luminous glow of snow clouds.\n\nA black silhouette with wide, bat-like wings."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kol poured Riv a cup of wine.\n\nI hate it here.\n\nThey were sitting in Kol's chambers, situated in a tower high above Drassil's Great Hall. Not too long ago it had been Israfil's chambers, and Riv could still seethe bloodstains upon the flagstoned floor.\n\nIt is a constant reminder of why I hate Kol. My mo–, no, my grandmother Dalmae died in these chambers. And Kol insists that I stay here, still, when all I want is to return to my siste–, no, my mother's barracks.\n\nHer head was still spinning with the changes in her life. Kol and his deeds were ever-present in her head and heart, a constant test of herself-control. Because her anger was still there, a swirling tornado in the pit of her belly that threatened to drag her into its violent grip.\n\nShe knew where that always ended.\n\nBlood and violence.\n\nAnd she could not allow that to happen, for Vald and Jost's sake.\n\nFor Bleda's sake.\n\nAnd Kol is my father. She stared at him, a mixture of revulsion and fascination shifting through her.\n\nA tall, high-arched window let in gusts of cold air, though a Ben-Elim stood before it, jet-black hair braided and tied at the neck.\n\nBen-Elim do not only guard doors. An attack is just as likely to come through a window as through a door.\n\n\"I think that went quite well,\" Kol said, pouring wine for Aphra and Lorina as well. He was talking about the meeting yesterday in the Great Hall, as this was the first time they had all met since then.\n\n\"Before we drink,\" Kol said, \"we need something to toast.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Other than me being still alive, Riv thought.\n\n\"I remember my friends and reward loyalty,\" Kol said. \"And as I'm in the mood for making changes, you two are now promoted.\" He raised his cup to Aphra and Lorina. \"You are now my two high captains of the White-Wings. Five hundred swords for each of you.\"\n\nRiv blinked at that. The White-Wings numbered in total around ten thousand strong. They had never had high captains, had always been divided into hundreds. Riv had never thought twice of it before, but now she found herself questioning everything, and in hindsight considered the demarcation of the White-Wings into comparatively small groups of a hundred as another way that the Ben-Elim had maintained their control. Drassil's garrison was traditionally a thousand White-Wings, and now Kol was giving them allover to Aphra and Lorina, the two captains who had supported his coup.\n\nAphra frowned, but said nothing, and Lorina smiled, the act not much changing her dark, severe features.\n\n\"So, to my new high captains, and to anew order. Cheers,\" Kol said, raising his own cup. Aphra and Lorina also raised theirs and drank. Kol stared at Riv, arching an eyebrow.\n\nRiv did not feel much like celebrating, still remembering Sariel's look of revulsion as he had called her an abomination.\n\nBut I am still alive, and it looks as if I will not be put to death in the immediate future. That's something, I suppose.\n\nShe sipped red wine from her cup, discovered that she liked the taste.\n\n\"That's the spirit,\" Kol said.\n\nRiv found his endless joviality irritating."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A day had passed since Kol's revelation in the Great Hall, during which Riv had kept herself hidden away in these chambers. She was greatly encouraged by the response of Drassil's residents to her, after Kol had worked a little of his oratory magic, and a large dose of manipulation.\n\nBut alive is alive.\n\n\"So, now the Ben-Elim and Drassil's residents are reconciled to... you-\" Kol looked at Riv-\"thus paving the way to a more relaxed, intimate relationship between Ben-Elim and mankind.\" He drank from his cup, smiled.\n\n\"It just leaves Ethlinn and her giants to win over,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"They will be far easier to pacify than Sariel and his Ben-Elim,\" Lorina murmured.\n\n\"I should hope so.\" Kol sighed. \"Though I doubt we have heard the last of Sariel.\" He shrugged. \"The first and hardest step has been made. As for the giants, I think once the situation is on firm ground here, that I should take my new... figurehead to go and see Ethlinn and her giants.\"\n\nFigurehead! Riv didn't like that.\n\n\"Where is Ethlinn?\" Riv asked.\n\n\"Dun Seren.\" Kol sighed again. \"I suppose I may as well deal with them as well as the giants and get this allover and done with.\"\n\n\"The Order of the Bright Star?\" Riv said.\n\n\"Aye. Aden of stiff-necked fools, but stiff-necked fools that we need, at least until the Kadoshim are annihilated.\" He smiled.\n\nKol's going to take me to the Order of the Bright Star! Riv felt a thrill run through her at that thought. As she grew up with the White-Wings, the warriors of the Bright Star were always considered allies, but also competition. The issue of who was better was an oft-asked question."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "We are.\n\nShe had seen a small group of the Order before. A scouting party sent to give information to Aphra on a suspected Kadoshim nest. There had been a giant upon one of their great bears-Riv was used to giants and bears, so that hadn't overly impressed her-as well as a huntsman with a brace of wolven-hounds and two more warriors. They had seemed to lack the discipline and uniformity that the White-Wings prided themselves upon, but they had all displayed a certain grace, an air of self-assurance and fluidity around them. And even when they were just standing, they exuded a confidence, a deep-seated knowledge and security in their abilities that set them apart as masters of their art.\n\nBecause war is an art. Just a deadly one.\n\nIt will be interesting to finally see them train. Maybe spar with a few of them.\n\n\"The Order of the Bright Star are none too fond of me,\" Kol said. \"I have had... disagreements with them in the past.\"\n\nSound like sensible people. She felt a smile twitch her mouth at the thought.\n\nHe shrugged and poured himself some more wine. \"The joys of ruling.\"\n\nThere was a surge of wind through the high-arched window, a turbulence as a Ben-Elim hovered in the air beyond. The guard standing there shifted to block entry, hefting his spear.\n\n\"I bear a message from Sariel,\" the Ben-Elim beyond the window called out.\n\n\"Let him in, Hadran,\" Kol said with a gesture, and the Ben-Elim in the window stepped back, raising his spear-point, though Riv noted that Hadran still held it ready.\n\nA Ben-Elim flew into the room, great white wings furling as he touched down gently and approached Kol. He was tall, his hair so fair it was almost white, and classically handsome in the Ben-Elim way, with chiselled features and sharp, intelligent eyes."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He held out a rolled parchment, proffering it to Kol.\n\n\"What does it say, Kamael?\"\n\n\"That you are summoned to the Moot, to answer for your deviation from the Way. It meets two days from now.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Kol sighed.\n\nHe seems to be doing a lot of that, lately.\n\n\"Anything else?\" Kol asked.\n\n\"Aye. We will decide on who will become the new Lord Protector,\" Kamael said.\n\nIna heartbeat Kol was on his feet, face a handspan from Kamael. To his credit, Kamael stood his ground, did not recoil or flinch.\n\n\"That is already decided,\" Kol said. \"The people have spoken.\"\n\n\"Sariel says differently,\" Kamael said. \"We Ben-Elim have not decided, and we both know that is all that matters.\"\n\nHe dismisses us like we are worthless insects. Riv realized she still considered herself human, not Ben-Elim, despite the obvious reminder of her mixed heritage that was sprouting from her back.\n\n\"We shall see,\" Kol said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Kamael agreed. \"Will you attend the Moot?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Kol said, and waved his hand in dismissal, turning away and returning to his seat.\n\nKamael stood and stared at him, then disdainfully threw the rolled-up parchment onto the table and walked away. He did not glance at the Ben-Elim guard as he stepped from the high tower window. A beat of his wings and he was gone.\n\nHadran looked out of the window, watching Kamael's departure.\n\nKol took the parchment and broke the seal, unrolled and read it. Sneered and tossed it over his shoulder."
}
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[
{
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"value": "Collaborate with the author and advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 22"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He held out a rolled parchment, proffering it to Kol.\n\n\"What does it say, Kamael?\"\n\n\"That you are summoned to the Moot, to answer for your deviation from the Way. It meets two days from now.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Kol sighed.\n\nHe seems to be doing a lot of that, lately.\n\n\"Anything else?\" Kol asked.\n\n\"Aye. We will decide on who will become the new Lord Protector,\" Kamael said.\n\nIna heartbeat Kol was on his feet, face a handspan from Kamael. To his credit, Kamael stood his ground, did not recoil or flinch.\n\n\"That is already decided,\" Kol said. \"The people have spoken.\"\n\n\"Sariel says differently,\" Kamael said. \"We Ben-Elim have not decided, and we both know that is all that matters.\"\n\nHe dismisses us like we are worthless insects. Riv realized she still considered herself human, not Ben-Elim, despite the obvious reminder of her mixed heritage that was sprouting from her back.\n\n\"We shall see,\" Kol said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Kamael agreed. \"Will you attend the Moot?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Kol said, and waved his hand in dismissal, turning away and returning to his seat.\n\nKamael stood and stared at him, then disdainfully threw the rolled-up parchment onto the table and walked away. He did not glance at the Ben-Elim guard as he stepped from the high tower window. A beat of his wings and he was gone.\n\nHadran looked out of the window, watching Kamael's departure.\n\nKol took the parchment and broke the seal, unrolled and read it. Sneered and tossed it over his shoulder."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sariel is determined to be a thorn in my flesh,\" he snarled.\n\n\"You have the people's vote,\" Lorina said. \"Most of Drassil is behind you.\"\n\n\"It is the Ben-Elim I must contend with,\" Kol said. \"They have to support my claim if my rule is to last.\"\n\n\"You have over a thousand Ben-Elim who have pledged their allegiance to you,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"Aye. But there are more than three thousand of my brothers in these Banished Lands. I need a majority.\"\n\n\"Who else could rule, if not you?\" Lorina said.\n\nKol pulled a face, which Riv thought meant no one.\n\nHe has always been arrogant, but that is a Ben-Elim trait, not confined to Kol.\n\n\"Sariel is my only real threat. He has governed the south of the Lands of the Faithful for half a hundred years, has fought campaigns there, exterminating the Vin Thalun pirates, stamping on all opposition to the yoke of the Ben-Elim. He has many supporters from that region, both Ben-Elim and White-Wings.\"\n\n\"We have come this far, are so close,\" Lorina said. \"Sariel will not stop us now.\"\n\n\"I hope you are right,\" Kol muttered, tapping his teeth with a thumbnail. He sipped his wine, brooding darkly.\n\n\"I want to go back to Aphra's barracks,\" Riv said into the growing silence.\n\nKol looked at her and frowned. Riv saw a gentle smile touch Aphra's face.\n\n\"I am sick of being hidden away,\" Riv said.\n\nSick of being around you every waking breath, Kol."
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am concerned for your safety,\" Kol said.\n\n\"My safety?\" Riv snorted, glancing at the scar on her shoulder.\n\n\"That was before I knew you were my daughter,\" Kol said.\n\nRiv stared at him.\n\n\"I have much resting upon you, Riven ap Kol,\" Kol said, humour in his eyes.\n\n\"But you would not call me your daughter in public,\" she snapped.\n\nNot that I want you to.\n\n\"Of course not. It's better that your parentage remains nameless. You area symbol of past crimes, a symbol of forgiveness, and of hope for the future. Best to leave it at that.\"\n\nBecause you would not be so popular if everyone knew you were the father who committed the sin.\n\n\"I still want to go back to Aphra's barracks,\" Riv said.\n\n\"Perhaps it would help your cause against Sariel?\" Aphra said.\n\nKol raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"What you said in the hall,\" Aphra said, \"stirred people's blood, won their sympathy, but they were just words. If people saw those words inaction-Riv bridging that gap between Ben-Elim and us... then it would only cement the step you have made.\"\n\n\"Yes, your point is well made,\" Kol said. \"But what if harm were to come to her?\"\n\n\"Guards?\" Lorina said.\n\n\"A few, in the shadows. Not so many that she looks like a prisoner,\" Aphra said.\n\nThey are talking about meas if I am not a person.\n\nRiv ground her teeth.\n\n\"Very well,\" Kol said. \"You may go back to Aphra's barracks and be free to roam Drassil, within reason. Train in the weapons-field, if you will. With guards. I'll set some of my Ben-Elim to watch over you. And Aphra, some White-Wings, please.\""
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"value": "\"Of course,\" Aphra said.\n\nKol looked at Riv's wings, furled behind her. \"You may even train with us Ben-Elim, soon. I'll teach you how better to use those.\" He nodded to Riv's wings.\n\nI know how to use them.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Riv grunted. She rose to leave.\n\n\"One thing,\" Kol said as she walked to the door.\n\n\"What?\" Riv said, looking back.\n\n\"Don't lose your temper.\""
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"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "Drem looked up at the sky again, searching for any sign of the Kadoshim half-breed. She had wheeled above them as the fight with the wyrms had ended, but now she was nowhere to be seen.\n\nAnd that worries me more. I'd rather know where she is. We need to move, and move fast.\n\nCullen had found a stream to wash the wyrm slime and muck from his body, while Drem and Keld checked Hammer and Fen over for wounds.\n\nThe white bear still lay upon its side. Its breathing was steadier, though, but it appeared to be unconscious. Hammer rumbled over to the fallen beast, sniffed a wound and licked it with her rasping tongue. The white bear didn't so much as stir.\n\nWithout thinking, Drem approached the prone bear, carefully, with one hand on his seax.\n\nIts fur was stained pink, a tapestry of long red lacerations and puncture wounds covering its body. Tentatively, Drem reached out and put his hand upon the bear's chest, felt its ribs flex as it breathed. Hammer nudged the bear with her muzzle, pushed into it none too gently, rumbled a sound deep in her belly, not quite a growl. The white bear rocked back a little, then rolled back.\n\nMost of the wounds Drem checked were superficial, but then he found an injury high on the shoulder of its left foreleg that was leaking a lot of blood. He bent down and lifted its paw, grunting with the weight. He looked at the point where its claw had been severed, a hand reaching to his throat and touching the claw tied around his neck. A flash of memory, his da throwing himself upon Drem, the two of them rolling out of the bear's way, Drem lashing outwith his seax and slicing the claw. And then followed by another memory, the bear standing over him, sniffing him as he set it free from its cage of iron bars before the walls of Kergard."
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"value": "It let me live.\n\nHe looked at Keld, who was standing back, staring at the bear.\n\n\"We need to leave,\" Keld said. \"Cullen,\" he called out.\n\n\"Be with you soon,\" Cullen called back, \"but I can still taste and smell wyrm.\"\n\n\"I've met this bear before,\" Drem said, raising the bear claw around his neck and pointing to the bear's front paw, with its missing claw.\n\nKeld and Cullen shared a look, Keld nodded. \"Just until Cullen is ready,\" the huntsman said, and Drem hurried to his pack, unbuckled it and pulled out a smaller kit bag. He threw a wad of linen bandages to Keld and the two of them set to patching up the white bear as best they could, cleaning and packing the wounds with honey, comfrey and yarrow, and then binding them with strips of linen.\n\nFootsteps behind them and Cullen ran into the clearing. His red hair had grown back about a knuckle's length, and it glistened with icy water.\n\n\"Think my stones have frozen and fallen off in that stream.\" Cullen shivered. He looked at them both, then at the white bear and its bandages. \"Are you both moon-mad?\" he asked them. \"That thing will eat you for its supper.\"\n\n\"Best begone before it wakes up, then,\" Keld said, hefting his pack onto his back.\n\nDrem threw Cullen his pack.\n\nCullen slipped it onto his back. He was standing beside one of the dead wyrms. He looked down at it, his mouth twisting in disgust. Drawing his hand-axe, he crouched and chopped atone of its long fangs, hacking it free. He tossed it to Drem."
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"value": "\"Something to add to that bear claw around your neck,\" he said with a grin. He chopped the other fang free and threw it to Keld, then strode to another wyrm and took a fang for himself.\n\n\"Keepsakes.\" Cullen grinned. \"To remind us never, ever to come to the Bonefells again.\"\n\n\"It's not so bad,\" Drem said, feeling protective of this place that had been home to him and his da. As dangerous as it was, it felt like his home, and there was something safe and reassuring about that.\n\nCullen snorted a laugh and just shook his head.\n\nA rumble issued from the white bear, and its legs jerked.\n\nThey all took an involuntary step away from the beast.\n\nThe white bear raised its huge head and looked at them. It took a few great sniffs, let out a growl, though to Drem it seemed more confused than aggressive.\n\nFen padded in front of Keld and bared his fangs at the bear.\n\nThe white bear rumbled another growl at Fen.\n\nNow, that one was aggressive.\n\nThe white bear rolled onto its belly, managed to get its legs beneath it and heave itself upright, swaying, head lowered with the effort. Spittle drooled from its open mouth as it breathed heavily with the exertion.\n\nFen growled again, hackles a ridge on his back.\n\n\"Easy,\" Keld said, resting a palm on the wolven-hound's side.\n\nThe bear took a step towards them, lips curling in a snarl at Fen.\n\n\"Here we go again.\" Cullen sighed and drew his sword."
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"value": "Hammer stepped between them and the white bear. She roared at the bear, making its fur ripple as if in a strong wind, and it froze, regarding her.\n\nDrem's hand dropped to the hilt of his seax and he held his breath, balanced on his toes, waiting for the violence to explode.\n\nThe white bear stepped forwards and licked Hammer's nose.\n\nFen took a step, snapping and snarling, and the white bear's head switched onto him, another deep growl from the bear.\n\nHammer raised a paw and slapped the white bear across the muzzle.\n\nTo Drem it looked more like a reprimand than an attack.\n\nThe white bear took a step back, its head swivelling onto Hammer, a small growl and a curled lip at her, but nothing else.\n\nHammer growled back.\n\nThe white bear took a step forwards and licked Hammer's muzzle again.\n\n\"I think he likes her,\" Cullen whispered, a smile twitching his mouth. \"What should we do?\"\n\n\"Well, as bonny as this all is, we are being hunted by a Kadoshim half-breed, Feral beasts and a giant, so we should probably leave,\" Keld answered.\n\n\"Agreed,\" Cullen said.\n\nFen growled again at the white bear.\n\n\"That's enough of that,\" Keld scolded, and Fen's ears dropped, tail tucking between his legs. \"You're looking after me, I know, but you can be a bit over-protective sometimes, and right now you're going to start a fight, lad.\" He ruffled the wolven-hound's head.\n\nThey backed away, Fen following them. As they reached the edge of the clearing and stepped into the cover of the pine trees, Keld looked back to call Hammer. She was still standing before the white bear, the two of them sniffing and snorting at each other."
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"value": "\"Come on, girl,\" Keld called.\n\nHammer looked around at Keld, then back at the white bear. She shook her body, fur rippling as if she'd emerged from water, and then lumbered after them.\n\nThe white bear stood and stared at Hammer's considerable rump as it walked away from him, then gave out a rumbling snort and shambled after her, limping.\n\nKeld raised an eyebrow and looked at Cullen and Drem.\n\nDrem shrugged.\n\nThey turned and walked on, the two bears following behind them.\n\nDrem stepped out from a thinning stand of pine; snow-covered meadows opened up before him.\n\nThe foothills of the Bonefells rose behind them, framed by the looming bulk of mountains, but before Drem and his companions was along, undulating slope that led down to avast plain, broken by clusters of jagged crags, knots of woodland and notched ravines.\n\nDrem knew that Keld and Cullen were glad to be leaving the Bonefells.\n\nBecause it means we are that much closer to Dun Seren, which is good. But the ground is more open, so we will be much easier to find, especially from above.\n\n\"Dun Seren is less than a ten-night that way,\" Cullen said, pointing to the south, with his other hand scratching at the red hair on his head that was growing longer now.\n\n\"Awhile before I have my warrior braid back,\" Cullen muttered ruefully.\n\nDrem looked up at the sky, searching for bat wings, subconsciously put a finger to his throat and counted the beats of his heart.\n\n\"Waiting's not going to make it any easier,\" Keld said and walked out from the cover of trees, choosing a path that hugged boulders and wind-blasted stands of hawthorn."
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"value": "Some cover, at least.\n\nFen padded alongside the huntsman, both of them seeming fully recovered now from their injuries.\n\nThe Order of the Bright Star breeds them tough.\n\nDrem absently scratched at the scab on his waistline, checked the sky again and then followed, picking his way down the slope. After a short while there was a scraping and creaking of trees and Drem looked back to see Hammer emerge from the pine trees. A few score paces behind her was the white bear, still limping. He had followed Hammer for two days now, keeping his distance, disappearing at night when Drem and the others stopped and made camp, but reappearing each morning to snort and snuffle around Hammer. Hammer did not seem to dislike the attention. After another scolding from Keld, Fen had taken to pretending the white bear was not there.\n\nKeld led them through shadowed paths, though Drem was certain that even if they were hidden from eyes in the sky, Hammer and the white bear were not.\n\nAnother glance upwards and Drem saw a flicker of movement, a dark smudge silhouetted by pale cloud.\n\n\"Ware,\" he called to his companions, and they all melted into the shadows of an overhanging crag. As Drem watched the silhouette above, he realized it was too small for the half-breed Kadoshim.\n\nJust a crow, then.\n\nAs Drem looked at it, the bird banked to the left, flying in a wide-looping arc.\n\nThen Cullen was stepping out from the shadows and waving his hands in the air.\n\nThe bird above them started cawing, flying in a tighter spiralling loop down to them. As it drew closer, the squawks started to resemble words."
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"value": "\"Cullen, Cullen, Cullen,\" the crow squawked, and Cullen held his arm out, the crow alighting on his shoulder. It was huge fora crow, far bigger than Rab, its feathers neat and glossy.\n\n\"Ach, but it's good to see you, Flick,\" Cullen said, scratching the bird's chest.\n\n\"Flick happy see Cullen,\" the bird croaked. \"And Keld and Fen.\" Flick regarded Drem with one shiny eye, his head cocked to one side. \"Well met, Drem ben Olin,\" he said, bobbing his head.\n\n\"Well met,\" Drem said, a little taken aback.\n\n\"Flick is the politest bird in Crow Tower,\" Cullen said, grinning.\n\n\"Flick, what news?\" Keld said.\n\n\"Rab told us all. Gulla in north. Sig dead.\" Flick shook his head mournfully. \"Byrne ANGRY,\" he squawked loudly, flapping his wings for emphasis. \"Byrne called the muster, Byrne want to KILL GULLA.\" Flick shrieked. \"All of Order summoned to Dun Seren. Byrne sent lots of huntsmen to find you. Stepor closest.\"\n\nHammer lumbered up behind them.\n\n\"Well met, Hammer,\" Flick croaked. The bear rumbled at the crow. Then Flick jumped into the air with a flap of wings when he saw the white bear appear behind Hammer.\n\n\"Hammer has an admirer,\" Cullen said, with a roll of his eyes.\n\nFlick landed back on Cullen's shoulder.\n\n\"Stepor? Good,\" Keld said. \"How faraway is he?\""
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"value": "\"Two, three days,\" Flick croaked, shrugging his wings. \"Follow Flick.\" With a beat of his wings the crow leaped into the air."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "Riv stepped out of the tower into Drassil's Great Hall. It was almost empty, apart from the ring of guards around the statues of Asroth and Meical. Usually giants held that vigil, but all the giants of Drassil had gone with Ethlinn to Dun Seren, so it was White-Wings that circled the frozen statues now.\n\nRiv felt their gaze upon her as she strode through the hall, her footsteps echoing. She looked at them, a glare at first, then one nodded to her. She hesitated a moment, then nodded back. Walking out into the winter sunlight, she blinked, heard the whisper of wings above her and her hand went instinctively to the hilt of her short-sword.\n\nA Ben-Elim drifted down and alighted beside her, Hadran, the guard from Kol's chamber.\n\n\"I am to guard you,\" he said, his face as unreadable as Bleda's. She felt a pang at the thought of her friend, a deep sense of loneliness cutting through her. She had wanted to go to Bleda, to speak with him, but shame had held her back, the fact that Kol washer father, the man who had slain Bleda's brother and sister. And she had made a deal with Kol.\n\nDoes Bleda hate me? Despise me for the blood that runs in my veins? And would he hate me for the deal I have made? He would feel ashamed that I have turned away from what is right, and he would hate that I have done it for him.\n\nShe burned to go and ask him; not knowing was driving her mad, itching away inside her head like ants on her skin. She had eventually overcome her shame and tried to speak to him, searched him out, but every time, Jin had been there. At his side."
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"value": "Riv saw Hadran frown at her and realized she was grinding her teeth.\n\n\"Guard me, then,\" she muttered and strode down the stone steps into the courtyard before the great keep. He lingered, walking a dozen or so steps behind her, then she felt the shifting of air as he took to the sky, until his presence was just a shadow on the flagstones around her.\n\nFinding herself free of Kol's chambers, Riv was abruptly aware that she did not quite know what to do with herself, and her footsteps faltered. She walked on, aware that people were looking at her, or more accurately, at her wings. Instinctively, she tried to furl them tighter, which of course didn't make them disappear, and then when she realized what she was doing she purposely and slowly unfurled them, spreading them wide.\n\nBecause I am not ashamed of who I am.\n\nShe heard some gasps, whispered comments, and looked around. Some eyes looked away, discomfited, but a few stood and met her gaze. A group of children stared unashamedly at her. Riv gave a fast pulse of her wings, making them crack like a whip, and one of the children screamed. Others laughed.\n\nRiv grinned at them and walked on.\n\nShe passed through the wide streets of Drassil, a host of different reactions happening around her. Some hurried out of her way, others stopped and gawped, some that she knew raised a hand in greeting or offered a nod.\n\nThen she heard footsteps running up behind her and she twisted, hand on her hilt, but it was only one of the children who had been staring at her. A red-haired boy, no more than six summers. She knew him-Tam, son of a wool trader. She used to pass his stall on her way home from training in the weapons-field, and Tam would more often than not stick his tongue out and wave a stick carved as a sword at her, and she'd often get on her knees and let him swat at her in mock combat. Sometimes she'd even let him win."
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "\"Is that really you, Riv?\" the lad asked her.\n\nShe got down onto her knees. \"Aye, Tam,\" she said. \"It is.\"\n\n\"I like your wings,\" he said, looking at them with wide eyes.\n\n\"I like them, too,\" she said.\n\n\"Can I touch them?\" he asked.\n\n\"Of course you can,\" she said, and smiled.\n\nShe curled awing tip in towards him, and he reached out tentatively, fingertips brushing a feather.\n\n\"It's soft,\" Tam breathed.\n\nWith a pulse of her wings, Riv rose from her knees and hovered a handspan off the ground, just fora few heartbeats. Tam gasped, and there were'ooohhs\" around her. Riv alighted gently on the earth.\n\n\"Walk with me,\" Riv said, holding her handout to the little lad. Without hesitation he did, and together they strolled down the street.\n\nPeople came and spoke to her now, walking along beside her fora while, asking her a hesitant question or two, saying they stood for her in the Great Hall. She told them she was grateful.\n\nAnd then, before she had a chance to realize where her feet had taken her, she stood before the entrance to the weapons-field.\n\n\"Wow,\" Tam said, who was still holding her hand. His eyes were wide.\n\nRiv stood and stared at it awhile: a huge, open expanse within the southern boundary of Drassil's walls. Sounds drifted out to her, the clack, clack, clack of practice blades, the shout of'SHIELD WALL\" followed by a reverberating thud as units of White-Wings drilled their formations, the drum of hooves further away as riders cantered and then galloped at targets, leaving spears shivering in their enemies\" straw bellies. And behind it all the whirring thrum of the archery range."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "Fora long, timeless moment Riv closed her eyes and just let the sounds and smells wash over her. For as long as Riv had memories, Drassil had been her home, but of all the parts that she associated with that notion of home-her barracks, the feast-hall, her dormitory-this weapons-field was the place that felt most precious to her.\n\nProbably because I have spent more of my time here than anywhere else in all the world.\n\nHer eyes fixed on the portion of the field that was given to archery practice, with its ranges and straw targets. She saw a few score men and women with their bows of yew and ash, people who belonged to the scouting and hunting units, but there were also others there, in woollen deels of grey and blue, heads shaved apart from long, thick warrior braids.\n\nThe Sirak and Cheren. The honour guards of Bleda and Jin.\n\nShe saw Bleda immediately, her sharp, new-found vision picking him out amongst the crowd. He was sitting upon a horse at the end of a range, arms folded, Old Ellac beside him as well as a handful more of his guards, and he was watching Jin as she stared down the range at a target over a hundred paces distant. A recurved bow was held loosely in one of her hands.\n\nThen Jin moved.\n\nIn one fluid motion she reached into the quiver at her belt, grabbed a handful of arrows, three at least, holding them in the hand she used to grip the bow, and then she was sighting, nocking, loosing.\n\nThree arrows were in the air before the first one hit the target, and then with a sound like hailstone drumming on clay tiles they thumped into the target, two in the straw man's chest, one in his head, roughly where Riv imagined his eye would be located."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Riv's first reaction was a moment of respect for Jin's skill, a warrior's gut reaction at seeing skills so precise, an action that she knew was difficult made to look so easy and effortless."
},
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"value": "That moment was rapidly followed by a rush of anger.\n\nThe hot blood-rush flooded her veins, and something distant in her recognized the warning signals, attempting to calm them, remembering Kol's words to her.\n\nDon't lose your temper.\n\nRiv was also a little surprised at the depth of her feeling.\n\nI must really hate her.\n\nHate? Maybe not. Perhaps it is just loathing. Extreme loathing. And a touch of jealousy.\n\nThe distant, sensible side of her whispered a question.\n\nJealous of what?\n\nOf her skill with a bow, of course, the red mist snapped back.\n\nI must get better with a bow, she resolved.\n\nRiv took a step into the field, felt a tug on her hand and she looked down, realized that little Tam was still there. Others were behind her, a crowd thirty or forty strong that had gathered as she'd walked through Drassil's streets. Some were children, but many were adults, intrigued by this strange new being amongst them.\n\n\"It's forbidden,\" Tam said nervously. \"I'm not allowed in the training field yet.\"\n\n\"Haven't you heard?\" Riv said. \"Times are changing,\" and she hoisted him into her arms, setting him on her shoulders, his legs dangling. Then she walked into the weapons-field.\n\nTam didn't complain.\n\nNo one else followed, but Riv noticed that most of them stayed at the gates, just watching her.\n\nRiv walked past the duelling square, where one-to-one combat was practised, from wrestling to weapons work. Racks of wooden weapons edged the square, all manner of types and sizes, because it was not just men and women that trained in the field, but giants as well."
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "Ert, one of Drassil's many sword masters, took his eyes from a pair of duelling White-Wings to watch Rivas she strode by. He was bald and wore his warrior braid in his white beard. He limped from an old wound, but all counted themselves lucky if they had the good fortune to be trained by him. Riv met his gaze, resisted the urge to look away, fearful of what she would see in his eyes. She respected Ert, and it would hurt if he thoughtless of her now.\n\nErt dipped his head to her, a curt movement, like when Riv scored a touch against him when sparring. She felt a grin stretch her mouth wide.\n\nBehind Ert a White-Wing stared at her, revulsion etched on his face.\n\nRiv walked on, past the White-Wings in shield wall training, saw some of Aphra's hundred there, caught a glimpse of bull-necked Vald and the top of Jost's unruly hair. Even when it was cropped short in the White-Wing style, it still managed to stick out in all directions. Fora moment she wished that she was therein the shield wall with them, that all of this had just been a bad dream. She stumbled to a stop, suddenly realizing that she would never stand in the shield wall again. How could she, with wings? Ben-Elim were not built for the wall.\n\nIt was like a punch to the gut.\n\nShe had loved the shield wall, the claustrophobic camaraderie and exhilaration, the feeling of strength, of belonging, of brothers and sisters either side, trusting you with their lives, and knowing that you trusted them.\n\nAll gone now.\n\nHer wings gave an agitated ripple, an extension of how she felt."
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"value": "But I can fly, now. That is better than any shield wall. Though lonelier.\n\nShe sighed.\n\n\"You all right, Riv?\" Tam asked from above her.\n\nI don't think I'll ever be all right again.\n\n\"Aye,\" Riv grunted. She turned to walk on, almost collided with someone. A White-Wing, young, the feather carved into his leather vambrace indicating he had not long passed his warrior trial and moved from Fledgling to White-Wing. Riv knew him-Sorch, almost as big and muscular as Vald, but where Vald was only an arrogant idiot when he'd drunk too much wine, Sorch was an arrogant idiot all of the time. Riv had never liked him much, even less after she'd seen him lead a dozen of his comrades into giving Bleda a beating.\n\n\"You don't belong here,\" Sorch said. His cheeks were red, fists clenched and knuckles white.\n\nDon't lose your temper.\n\n\"Get out of my way, arsewipe,\" Riv said.\n\nShe could feel the tendrils of her anger creeping through her blood, twisting through her body, making her heartbeat faster, her muscles tense.\n\n\"You're an abomination,\" Sorch said. \"You deserve to die, should be executed.\" Voices behind him added their agreement. Others were gathering in his wake, some of his own hundred, plus older White-Wings, men and women whom Riv didn't recognize. Ten, twelve others joining them.\n\n\"You disgust me,\" Sorch sneered.\n\nBreathe. Calm. Jost is always saying I need a sense of humour.\n\n\"Now you know how I feel every time I see you eat in the feast-hall,\" Riv said. She wasn't lying. Sorch seemed to lack the ability to eat without half the contents of his mouth spilling out and sounding like someone was slurping on offal."
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "By the look on Sorch's face, her attempt at humour to defuse the tension hadn't worked, though one of Sorch's companions chuckled.\n\nSorch didn't seem to like that, either.\n\nHe spat in Riv's face.\n\nShe felt the dam on her anger crack, begin to leak.\n\nVery slowly, Riv wiped spittle from her eye. She flicked it away. Then, just as slowly, she reached up and took hold of Tam, lifted him gently from her shoulders and set him on the ground.\n\n\"Move away, Tam,\" she said.\n\nThen she punched Sorch in the face.\n\nRiv had always been strong. A lifetime spent in the weapons-field, living in a barracks with a White-Wing hundred or out on campaign and attending to the myriad duties that entailed had honed her musculature and sharpened her reflexes, but since she had come into her wings, that strength, speed and fitness had seemed to increase immeasurably.\n\nHer punch lifted Sorch from the ground and hurled him back into his comrades, scattering them like chaff.\n\nA moment's shock and silence, like an indrawn breath, as Riv saw Sorch sprawled atop half a dozen others, those still standing behind him dumbfounded. As if in slow motion she saw their expressions change, from shock, to outrage, to action. Fists were clenched, sparring weapons raised as they came at her. Distantly, Riv was aware of shouting, figures moving in her peripheral vision, running, of Tam's eyes wide in something that wasn't fear, more resembling... awe.\n\nA shadow on the ground cast from high above moving, growing larger.\n\nRiv knew that all of them would be too late."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She bent her legs and leaped at the onrushing crowd, pulsed her wings and gave her leap added speed and power."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She hit them like a battering ram, sent bodies hurtling in all directions, landed with feet spread and a fierce smile on her face. It felt so good to just give in, to allow so much suppressed rage finally to run free.\n\nA White-Wing from her left, a veteran, practice sword-swinging in a diagonal arc for her head. She swayed, felt the air of its passing across her face, grabbed his wrist, twisted, smiled at the crack and scream that followed, cast him to the ground, kicked him in the head as he tried to rise. He didn't try to getup again.\n\nA blow across her back, a pain in her shoulder-blade and the arch of her wing, and she spun around, backhanded a female White-Wing across the jaw, dropped her to the floor, unconscious before she hit the ground.\n\nAnd then all was constant motion, Riv ducking, swaying, punching, kicking, using her wings to give bursts of speed, to turn tighter and faster than was humanly possible, and all who came against her fell away in bloody heaps. Dimly she became aware that she was not the only one with wings in the melee, glimpsed Hadran her guard dragging a White-Wing off her, casting him aside, and behind him other figures came into focus, Vald and Jost, Ert the sword master, all of them locked in combat against other White-Wings, fighting for her, trying to defend her.\n\nThen a crack across her head, exploding like a drum inside her skull, and she was dropping to her knees. She punched a knee, heard a scream, kicked out at an ankle, saw someone fall, but more blows were raining down upon her.\n\nA rumbling thunder, growing rapidly louder, the ground shaking, and suddenly she was being grabbed by the neck of her leather jerkin, heaved up, into the air, weightless, and then she was swinging onto the back of a horse as it rode away and her arms were wrapping around Bleda's waist."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Half a dozen heartbeats and he drew his horse into a canter, then a halt.\n\nBleda twisted in his saddle, his bow in his hand, and drew it, aimed at the first White-Wing that was running after them.\n\nIt was Sorch.\n\nBleda loosed, and his arrow sank deep into the ground at Sorch's feet. He skidded to a halt, blood running from his pulped lips and nose, looked from the arrow to Riv, took another step.\n\n\"I can kill you, if you wish,\" Bleda said calmly, another arrow nocked and drawn in a heartbeat.\n\nSomething in Bleda's voice drew Sorch up where Riv's violence had not.\n\n\"I would like to kill you,\" Bleda said. \"Give me the excuse.\"\n\nSorch took a step back, raised his hands.\n\n\"Shame,\" muttered Riv.\n\n\"You're bleeding,\" Bleda said to her.\n\nShe licked blood from her lip, felt the red mist still coursing through her, but retreating now, not gone, but a lull.\n\n\"Pulling you out of fights is becoming a habit,\" Bleda said to Riv. His horse danced on the spot, excited.\n\n\"I'll try and return the favour one day,\" she said.\n\nRiv looked around, saw her conflict had spread into a brawl hundreds of people strong, some still fighting on. She saw Vald and Jost standing back to back, practice shields and swords still in their fists, a handful of her old White-Wing comrades with them, as well as Ert. Amongst the various warriors of the field involved in the melee, Riv saw others, not warriors at all, and realized with a jolt of shock that they were from the crowd that had gathered about her and followed her through the streets of Drassil."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They have rushed the field to help me.\n\nSome were still fighting. Hadran the Ben-Elim was trading blows with a trio of White-Wings, as well as two Ben-Elim. Even as she watched, she saw Hadran fall.\n\nVoices were raised behind Riv, a glance showing Aphra running into the field, more White-Wings with her, these with real shields and drawn swords. And Ben-Elim in the air behind her-Kol and his guards, other Ben-Elim swooping in from different directions.\n\nAch, Kol will not be happy. All this, she thought, looking at the bodies strewn across the ground, rising, groaning. Because of Sorch.\n\nWith a snap she spread her wings and took to the air, Bleda calling out after her. She rose briefly, then tucked her wings in and dropped into a dive, a flexing of her wings to adjust her angle, and she was speeding along parallel to the ground.\n\nStraight at Sorch.\n\nHe saw her coming, saw the look in her eyes, and then he was turning, breaking into a stumbling run.\n\nFar too slow. Riv caught him in moments, grabbing his leather training vest, her wings beating hard as she dragged him from his feet, sweeping him up and along in her momentum.\n\nSorch screamed.\n\nRiv laughed.\n\nShe flew low, just above the heads of those who had been involved in the melee, Sorch's feet smacking heads, then she dived down again, barrelling a Ben-Elim out of her way and reaching down, grabbing at an arm, her fist closing around a wrist, and then she was veering up, wings straining as she dragged two bodies up into the air above the weapons-field."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sorch continued to scream, rising in pitch. As they climbed higher it became a whimper.\n\nThe other body was Hadran, battered, a cut above his eye leaking blood over his face.\n\nHe was stunned, eyes glazed and fluttering fora few moments, but his senses returned to him quickly enough and he stared at Riv.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" he asked.\n\n\"You watched my back, I'm just watching yours,\" she said.\n\nHadran realized he was in the air and extended his wings, flexed them once or twice.\n\nRiv let go and he flew away, but not far, spiralled around her, a strange look on his face.\n\nRiv gave Sorch her attention.\n\nHe had his eyes squeezed tightly shut, was whimpering and shaking.\n\nThe words Sorch had said to her came back in a rush.\n\nYou're an abomination. You deserve to die.\n\nAnger flooded Riv's mind, red dots dappling her vision. She put a hand around his throat and squeezed. Sorch croaked a scream, his face turning red, then purple. He swatted at Riv, feebly. She was dimly aware of Hadran shouting at her, flying closer.\n\nYou are an abomination. You deserve to die.\n\nShe squeezed harder.\n\nA spasm from Sorch and he shrieked, hard and loud, and jerked his leg. Riv glanced down, saw an arrow protruding from his calf, blood leaking from the wound, raining down upon the field. She blinked, felt the red mist of her rage retreat and looked down to the weapons-field far below her.\n\nBleda was standing in his stirrups, his bow in his hand. Another arrow flew from his bow, whistling past Sorch's head. Instinctively, Riv jerked him away, felt herself coming back to her senses. She released her grip around Sorch's throat and held him by his training vest."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Open your eyes. Look down,\" Riv said, hovering with great, slow beats of her wings.\n\nHe didn't, so Riv shook him, like a cat with a mouse.\n\nHe screamed, Riv was impressed with the strength of his lungs.\n\n\"If you don't open your eyes I'm going to drop you,\" she said.\n\nHe didn't open his eyes.\n\nRiv let goof one arm and let him dangle a little.\n\nMore yelling as his eyes snapped open.\n\n\"P-please,\" he begged. \"Please, please, please.\" Tears streamed from his eyes, snot from his nose.\n\n\"Look down,\" she growled at him.\n\nSlowly, inch by inch, his head shifted and he looked down. He whimpered again, a pitiful sound. Riv had only flown about the equivalent of a hundred or so paces straight up, but it was still high enough to splatter Sorch over a wide area if she dropped him. The ground seemed a very long way away, everyone on the field frozen, staring up at them.\n\n\"Remember this,\" Riv snarled at him. \"Remember that I have your life in my hands, could kill you if I wished.\" She paused. \"Do you realize that?\"\n\nHe opened his mouth but nothing came out.\n\n\"I can't hear you,\" she said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Sorch squeaked.\n\n\"Good.\" Riv nodded. \"Now, you area worm, but you are still one of Elyon's creations, and so have the right to live. Just like I do.\"\n\nShe stared into his eyes.\n\n\"Do you understand what I'm saying to you?\"\n\nHe nodded frantically."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell me.\"\n\n\"Th-th-th-that you are not an abomination,\" he stuttered. \"Th-th-th-that you should live, do not deserve to bee-e-executed.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Riv said. She narrowed her eyes. \"But do I believe you? If I take you back to the ground, see you safe down there, will you just do this again, or worse?\"\n\n\"N-n-n-n-n-n-no,\" Sorch said. \"You can trust me, I swear. Live and let l-l-live, that's what I say.\"\n\n\"Because I could still drop you. It would be easier that way. No need to worry about whether you can be trusted, then.\"\n\nRiv glimpsed Ben-Elim swooping towards her, Kol amongst them. She glanced over Sorch's shoulder and saw Hadran. He was close, but just observing, making no attempt to interfere.\n\nThen Riv heard a sound, distant, a horn blowing, faraway, beyond the walls of Drassil.\n\nAn answering horn blast from Drassil's towers.\n\nWhat's that?\n\nRiv beat her wings and rose higher. Sorch let out a yelp and shut his eyes tight again, his arms flailing, reaching out and grabbing Riv. He pulled himself tight against her body. She could feel his trembling.\n\nThe horn calls resounded again and Riv climbed higher, level with Drassil's towering walls, then higher still, until she could seethe sea of green that was Forn Forest, stretching in all directions for endless leagues. Hadran flew close to her.\n\nA column of horses was spilling onto the plain that surrounded Drassil, coming from the east road. Easily two to three hundred, with still more appearing. Riv squinted, the figures not much more than pinpricks, but she glimpsed a banner, stared a few moments longer and made out a white horse on a greenfield."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I recognize that sigil.\n\nKol and a score of Ben-Elim reached her then, but they were not giving Riv any attention, all of them staring out at the riders on the plain. With a beat of his wings and a shouted command Kol sped forwards, towards the riders.\n\nThen Riv was descending, by the shrieks and yelps that escaped Sorch, a little too fast for his liking. When she was about the height of three horses from the ground she extended her wings wide, checking her speed, and touched down with a whisper of feet. Sorch collapsed in a heap on the floor, hugging and kissing the ground, quivering and shaking.\n\nRiv ignored him, ignored the cheers and shouts from the crowd that were all staring at her, instead turning to Bleda, who was still sitting upon his horse where she had left him. Ellac and Bleda's guards were about him now, as was Jin and a few of her honour guard. She was looking at Riv with that superior expression, as always. Riv ignored her.\n\n\"Bleda, there are Sirak riding onto the plain. I think your mother has come to Drassil.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha stepped into a clearing and stopped fora long moment, unsure of what she was looking at. It was a large space, thirty or forty paces wide, edged in boulders, shrubs and trees. Churned snow on the ground was melting to slush, and there had been no fresh snowfalls since Fritha had reached Drem's abandoned camp by the river. The weather was shifting as winter retreated before spring's tentative advance. Much of the ground was stained pink, with scattered pools of almost black blood. But that was not what Fritha's eyes were drawn to.\n\nTwo of her Ferals were standing at her shoulder, sniffing and snapping and snarling, scared and vicious at the same time as they all stared at heaped mounds of dead flesh.\n\nSome of us are at our most dangerous when we are scared. They do not recognize what scent they are smelling, but they don't like it.\n\nFritha had been sceptical about Morn's tale of giant wyrms and two bears, one of them white, fighting alongside Drem and his companions. But these piles of coiled scales suggested that Morn was right.\n\nFritha hefted her spear and pointed it at the closest heap, took a few steps into the clearing.\n\nA shadow skimmed across her, Morn descending in a whirl of wings.\n\n\"Are you sure they are dead?\" Fritha muttered.\n\n\"I saw them slain by the Order and two bears,\" Morn answered.\n\nFritha noticed that Morn was still levelling her spear at the nearest coiled body, though.\n\nThey smell dead tome.\n\nFerals and her warriors emerged from the bushes and trees around the clearing to join Fritha, all of them edging closer with sharp steel glinting, a noosed circle growing tighter."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As Fritha drew closer, details became clearer amidst the coiled heap: a red wound, tattered skin, darkening flesh and the glint of vertebrae where its head should be.\n\nWyrms, Morn was right, Fritha realized, a tremor of awe passing through her. She had heard tales of these fabled beasts, but never dreamed of seeing one. Each coil of the creature's torso was thicker than her waist.\n\nThe wyrm's head was on the ground nearby, as big as a hound. Its skin hung torn and ragged, eye sockets pecked empty. Fritha prodded the severed head with her spear and it rolled over, maggots squirming out of the empty sockets and spilling from its nostrils and mouth. Fritha crouched fora closer look and saw that its two fangs had been hacked from its gums. She wrinkled her nose at the smell.\n\nOne of her Ferals leaned close and took a sniff of the heaped coils that had been the wyrm's body.\n\n\"Eat it, if you wish,\" Fritha said, looking at lengths of gnawed flesh hanging in strips. \"You're not the first to try.\"\n\nThere were two more dead wyrms in the clearing. One lay amidst a pile of its own entrails, whilst the other had been literally torn in two.\n\nThe ground was a trampled mess, sections of it showing the prints of a massive snake's rippling movement. There were half-visible boot-prints in the melting snow, wolven-hound paw-prints and bear-prints, many of them, and of different sizes.\n\nMorn was right about two bears, as well.\n\n\"There were two bears,\" Morn said beside her, as if reading her mind."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Morn had returned to them close to three days ago, bursting with excitement as she'd told Fritha of her sighting, and of the wyrms and white bear. Fritha had been excited at the ground they had gained, but sceptical about wyrms and white bears. She resolved not to doubt Morn's eyesight again.\n\n\"Where did they go?\" Fritha asked.\n\n\"That way,\" Morn said, pointing with her spear. The two of them padded to the clearing's edge, following the prints that led away from the battle. Boot-prints, bear-prints, wolven-prints. They followed them away into a stand of pine trees, stooping.\n\n\"Have they met someone from the Order of the Bright Star?\" Fritha wondered. \"Another giant and their bear?\" She felt a stab of anger and frustration at that thought, to be so close and for Drem to escape her. Another bear and giant would probably be too much for her depleted numbers.\n\n\"I saw no one else,\" Morn said. \"But I was high, did not get too close, as you asked.\" The half-breed's lips curled; Fritha realized it washer attempt at a smile.\n\nSince Morn's return, when Fritha nursed her back from the edge of death and spoke words of power into her, Morn had changed, not softened, exactly, but there was something less aloof and abrasive in Morn's demeanour towards Fritha.\n\nPerhaps the fact that I saved her life has broken through her shell of pride and rage.\n\n\"Good,\" Fritha said. \"I would not lose you, and those nets they have are deadly.\"\n\n\"Aye, curse them.\" Morn spat. She reached a hand to her belt, where the patched net that had almost killed her was neatly folded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Behind them, Gunil's bear let out a rumbling growl and crashed into the trees at the edge of the clearing, disappearing."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gunil gave chase, a handful of Ferals bounding after them.\n\nFritha and Morn shared a look, and then Gunil was shouting, the snap and snarl of Fritha's Ferals, the growling of Claw, and Fritha turned and ran. She heard Gunil's voice, booming through the trees. He was yelling commands.\n\n\"Get back! Hold!\" he was yelling.\n\nFritha ran faster, Morn running and leaping into the air, gliding ahead. She sprinted through the clearing, past the dead wyrms where some of her Ferals were feasting, on through a thicket of hawthorn to catch up with some of her warriors, who were doing the same as her, running towards the sounds echoing about her.\n\nAnd then she saw Gunil and Claw, a handful of Fritha's Red Right Hand around them, Ferals standing in a half-circle, growling like hounds with hackles raised. Gunil had his war-hammer in his fist and was dragging on the reins of his bear, which was rearing and growling, trying to reach something beyond Gunil. The giant heaved on the reins, forcing Claw down, and gave the bear a mighty cuff with the back of his hand.\n\n\"Hold, now,\" Gunil yelled at the bear.\n\n\"What's going on?\" Fritha shouted as she ran up; with a beating of wings Morn touched down to her right.\n\n\"He doesn't like it, wants to kill it,\" Gunil grunted, cuffing his bear again. Claw was more composed now, giving Gunil what Fritha thought was a sulky look.\n\nFritha pushed through her warriors and Ferals, who were ringed around something, spears and all manner of sharp iron pointing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then she saw what the bear wanted to kill.\n\nIt was a wyrm, long and sinuous, coiled in the shadows of a boulder. Fritha could not guess at its size, probably the length of one of the pines that towered around them, but its body was thick, as thick as the pine's trunk, with pale, pearl-like scales coating its wide girth. It was injured, that was plain to see, with open wounds raking its torso. The creature was having trouble even lifting its head, though it managed to bear its fangs and hiss at Gunil's bear.\n\nMore than injured, it looks close to death.\n\nEven as Fritha watched, its head sank to the ground, the effort too much for it, and it gave out along, rattling hiss.\n\nFritha just stared at the wyrm, lost for long moments in its magnificence; even on the brink of death its power and deadliness were clear. Fritha respected that.\n\n\"Morn, your net,\" Fritha said, holding out a hand.\n\nMorn put a hand protectively on the net at her belt.\n\n\"I have plans for it,\" the half-breed muttered.\n\n\"You'll get it back,\" Fritha said, hand still extended.\n\nMorn unclipped it from her belt and gave it to Fritha, who shook it out, spun it around her head and cast it at the wyrm.\n\nThe net fell over the wyrm's head and neck. It hissed and raised its head, a feeble motion, the weight of the lead balls on the net almost too much for it to lift. Fritha stepped forwards and staked one corner of the net into the ground with her spear, then gestured for another spear. Morn saw what Fritha was doing and staked another corner with her own weapon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha stepped away from the head and prodded the snake's torso with her toe. It hissed, but nothing more. She kicked it, hard, and its head twitched, more hissing, but it lacked the strength to fight free of the net.\n\nFritha knelt down beside it, running a hand along its scales. It was cool to the touch, the scales smooth. The sense of muscle and malice that emanated from the creature almost took her breath away. She touched one of the wounds, flesh red and raw, then shuffled closer to the wyrm's wide head. She stroked it, ran a finger across its jawline, tracing one long fang. It regarded her with a reptilian eye, a twitch of its mouth, but nothing more.\n\n\"It's as if Drem is leaving me gifts, to makeup for all of the difficulties he is causing me. First the draig egg, and now you.\"\n\nFritha smiled.\n\nShe reached to her belt and drew her knife. She opened her palm, saw the scabbing cut from the hold, when she had communicated with Gulla. Gritting her teeth, she drew her knife across the half-healed wound, fresh blood welling, and she squeezed a fist, let her blood drip into the wyrm's wounds, across its body, finally onto its fangs and into its mouth.\n\n\"Fola agus focail chumhachta,\" Fritha whispered, \"ceangail an fheoil seo, leigheas an cnámh seo.\" She smiled as she did it. \"I will save you, my beauty,\" she whispered, and intoned her spell of power again, and again, until the wyrm shuddered and lay its head down, sleeping."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Gunil, build me a cage,\" she called over her shoulder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda's heart was pounding. He was riding through the wide streets of Drassil, his horse's hooves sparking on the flagstones of the road, dimly aware of Ellac and his guard urging their mounts after him. People were jumping out of his way, and a shadow flitted across the road, a glimpse showing the silhouette of Riv above him.\n\nSo much had happened in the weapons-field, a brawl turning into a riot. Bleda had thought fora few heart-wrenching moments when he saw Riv fall beneath an abundance of foes that she was going to be beaten to death. He hardly remembered galloping across the field, people leaping out of his way as he leaned out of his saddle, grabbing Riv and hauling her onto his horse.\n\nAnd then, when he thought the worst was over and all was returning to calm, Riv had flown down and said those six words that had set him to riding through the streets.\n\nYour mother has come to Drassil.\n\nHe felt excited, scared, thrilled, worried.\n\nAnd then he was bursting into the great courtyard of Drassil, its huge gates and tower rising like a small keep ahead of him. The courtyard itself was large enough to hold a small host, a thousand warriors on horseback could probably fit into it.\n\nBleda touched his reins and gave a quick squeeze with his knees, his mount responding beautifully, slowing to a trot, to a walk and then to a standstill. Ellac and his guards, a dozen men and women, formed up perfectly to either side of him. Tuld, Ruga and Mirim were closest. They seemed to have been permanently at his side since their return to Drassil and had taken great pride in telling Bleda's guard that had remained in the fortress of their Prince's exploits against the Ben-Elim. Bleda had been relieved to discover that his honour guard who had remained in Drassil when he'd fled with Riv had not been harmed, merely detained and watched closely. They had shown unusual joy when he had returned to them, and upon hearing of his actions, seemed to hold Bleda in higher esteem than before."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What did she say to you?\" Ellac asked him.\n\n\"Huh?\" Bleda grunted, then realized Ellac was referring to Riv.\n\n\"My Queen and mother is here.\" Bleda kept his face emotionless. \"She is riding towards Drassil's gates,\" he said, and saw a brief lapse of Ellac's cold-face, a ripple of surprise and pleasure before the control came back.\n\nBleda's other guards heard, and instantly all were checking their deels and weapons, straightening arrows in their belt quivers, sitting taller in their saddles.\n\nThe gates of Drassil were open. Horn blasts rang out and, through the gateway, Bleda glimpsed movement on the plain.\n\nOthers started arriving in the courtyard-Jin and a score of her honour guard. She looked at Bleda with a quizzical expression, but Bleda avoided her gaze.\n\nBleda had felt awkward with Jin since his return to Drassil. He was betrothed to her, knew that their marriage had been arranged to secure the bonds between the Sirak and Cheren Clans and to put their old grievances into the past. And Bleda liked Jin. She had been his closest companion for the last five years, his only friend in the fortress.\n\nUntil Riv.\n\nHe knew that it was his duty towed Jin, that he was honour-bound for the sake of his Clan, and it was not the worst thing he could imagine. She was intelligent, strong and skilled, and not unpleasant to look at. With her sharp features, quick reactions and wit she reminded Bleda of the hawk that was the Cheren sigil.\n\nBut then why is it that every time I close my eyes, the only face I see is Riv's?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda searched the courtyard and the skies above, and although there were many Ben-Elim in the skies overhead, he could not see her distinctive wings and silhouette anywhere.\n\nAphra and her White-Wings marched into the courtyard, not her full hundred, but enough to form an imposing shield wall, even if their shields were slung across their backs, with other units of White-Wings hastily gathering behind them. More Ben-Elim arrived, wheeling in the sky above, some flying on out beyond Drassil's walls.\n\nAnd then more horns were blowing and riders were thundering through the gate tunnel and pouring into the courtyard. Bleda's heart soared to see his kin, a wave of mounted men and women in their deels of grey, heads shaved and long warrior braids flowing. Each rider carried short curved swords strapped across their backs, recurved bows in leather cases and quivers of arrows buckled to their saddles, and at their head rode Erdene, Bleda's mother, Queen of the Sirak.\n\nShe rode straight-backed and proud into the courtyard, along surcoat of lamellar armour over a grey deel tunic, a fox-fur cloak slung across her shoulder, and her boots trimmed with ermine. A silver ring was wrapped around her arm, two horse-heads facing each other. She reined in a score of paces from Bleda, a whispered word and her horse was rearing, hooves punching the air.\n\nBleda fought to hold back the grin of joy that threatened to spill allover his face.\n\nHundreds of Sirak slipped into neat lines behind her, the thunder of hooves abruptly silent. Erdene's horse, a magnificent piebald, shook its head, its mane rippling, and whickered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bleda clicked his horse on and walked out into the open space between them."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A double-click of his tongue and pressure from one knee, and his horse stretched one foreleg forwards, bent the other, for all the world seeming as if it were bowing to Erdene.\n\nShe looked at Bleda, then gave him a curt nod for his display of horsemanship, and another for his mark of respect to her.\n\nAnd then there was a maelstrom of wings descending upon them, Ben-Elim falling from the sky. Kol alighted in the space between Bleda and Erdene, bright and gleaming in a shirt and breeches of white wool and polished leather tunic, studded with iron. A few score Ben-Elim stood behind him, forming a line between Bleda and his kin, and many others circled low over the courtyard, the cold sun gleaming off their spear-points.\n\nOther Ben-Elim spiralled in from a different direction, amass of them in the air like a flock of white eagles. Bleda saw Sariel touching down on his right flank. Kol saw him, too, and with a gesture of his hand many of his Ben-Elim landed before Sariel, swelling Kol's ranks and blocking Sariel's approach to Erdene. At the same time Aphra's White-Wings were moving, filling the empty spaces of the courtyard around Sariel's Ben-Elim. There were no angry words, no weapons drawn, but tension filled the area. Sariel was glaring at Kol, then casting his dark look upon the Ben-Elim and White-Wings blocking his way.\n\nBleda could tell he was caught in that moment of indecision, whether to actor hold, and he saw his mother's eyes taking it all in.\n\n\"Welcome to Drassil, Queen Erdene of the Sirak,\" Kol said loudly and formally as he took a step towards Erdene."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda saw Sariel say something to his Ben-Elim behind him, then take a step back, folding his arms and staring coldly at Kol and Erdene.\n\n\"An unexpected pleasure,\" Kol said to Erdene. Kol's voice was polite, but Bleda could see a tension in the Ben-Elim, though well hidden, a stiffness across his shoulders, a clenching in his jaw. Being a student of the cold-face, Bleda was a master of analysing all of the tell-tale signs a body could giveaway.\n\nHe did not know that my mother was coming, and he is ready for violence.\n\nThe sound of many footsteps behind him, a glance showing more White-Wings entering the courtyard-Lorina leading over a hundred warriors. They slipped silently into a loose shield wall formation behind Aphra and her group.\n\n\"I bring you what you asked for,\" Erdene said, and with a flick of her reins her horse was sidestepping, the rows of Sirak behind her parting, their mounts moving to the flanks of the courtyard to reveal yet more riders. But these were not warriors, they were children, their heads as yet unshaved. Boys and girls, lots of children, a hundred, perhaps more.\n\n\"I give you your flesh tithe,\" Erdene said.\n\nBleda walked into a large chamber, Ellac and Ruga either side of him, as befitted his rank. Afire-pit in the centre of the room crackled with hungry flames, spreading a welcome warmth through the stone room. It was part of a building large enough to pass fora keep at any other fortress, but here at Drassil it was just one of many buildings built by giants so long ago which still stood empty. Kol had given it to Erdene as quarters for her and her retainers for the duration of her stay in the fortress."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Erdene was seated in a high-backed chair close to the fire, her first-sword Yul behind her, a table at her side with jug and cups.\n\nKol was standing before Erdene, Lorina atone shoulder, Riv at the other. Bleda's step faltered at the sight of her.\n\nRiv looked at Bleda as he approached, her face mottled with bruises and cuts from her fight in the weapons-field.\n\nShe smiled on seeing him.\n\nHe felt something shift in his belly at that, like the fluttering of a moth's wings, and at the same time he was painfully aware of his mother's gaze upon him. With an effort he kept his face emotionless, saw Riv's smile wither and fade.\n\nHe stopped a few paces from his mother and dropped to one knee before her, his head bowed. He heard the scuff of Ellac and Ruga's knees scraping the stone floor behind him.\n\nA silence.\n\n\"Rise,\" his mother grunted, and the three of them stood before her. She looked older, deep lines in her brown-weathered face, a white scar standing stark across her shaved head. Her warrior braid was curled across one shoulder like an iron-grey serpent.\n\nShe studied Bleda with her dark eyes, then stood and held her arm out, offering him the warrior grip.\n\nHe stood as still as stone, frozen with surprise, then reached out and took the offered embrace, felt the corded muscle of her arm through her wool deel. Inside, his heart was soaring.\n\nShe recognizes meas a warrior, no longer a child. He wanted to laugh and dance, to lift his mother up and spin and squeeze her.\n\nInstead he stared at her, his face an emotionless mask."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help to continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 26"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Erdene was seated in a high-backed chair close to the fire, her first-sword Yul behind her, a table at her side with jug and cups.\n\nKol was standing before Erdene, Lorina atone shoulder, Riv at the other. Bleda's step faltered at the sight of her.\n\nRiv looked at Bleda as he approached, her face mottled with bruises and cuts from her fight in the weapons-field.\n\nShe smiled on seeing him.\n\nHe felt something shift in his belly at that, like the fluttering of a moth's wings, and at the same time he was painfully aware of his mother's gaze upon him. With an effort he kept his face emotionless, saw Riv's smile wither and fade.\n\nHe stopped a few paces from his mother and dropped to one knee before her, his head bowed. He heard the scuff of Ellac and Ruga's knees scraping the stone floor behind him.\n\nA silence.\n\n\"Rise,\" his mother grunted, and the three of them stood before her. She looked older, deep lines in her brown-weathered face, a white scar standing stark across her shaved head. Her warrior braid was curled across one shoulder like an iron-grey serpent.\n\nShe studied Bleda with her dark eyes, then stood and held her arm out, offering him the warrior grip.\n\nHe stood as still as stone, frozen with surprise, then reached out and took the offered embrace, felt the corded muscle of her arm through her wool deel. Inside, his heart was soaring.\n\nShe recognizes meas a warrior, no longer a child. He wanted to laugh and dance, to lift his mother up and spin and squeeze her.\n\nInstead he stared at her, his face an emotionless mask."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Erdene released his arm and nodded a greeting to Ellac.\n\n\"The moons since I last laid eyes upon you have treated you well,\" Erdene said, looking Bleda up and down. She prodded his belly. \"Though a little too well, perhaps.\"\n\nBleda blinked at that. He prided himself on his fitness. He trained with his honour guard each morning, where Ellac put him through his paces, and through his pouring sweat and pounding heart Bleda had regularly cursed the old man for having no heart or compassion. And then after a meal break and his lessons Bleda trained in the weapons-field each afternoon, learning Drassil's many varied military disciplines. He didn't think there was an ounce of fat on his body, but he wasn't going to point that out to his mother.\n\nHe looked down at her bony finger poking his belly, felt it digging into the washboard-hard ridges of his abdominal muscles.\n\nA moment's thought. Is my mother making a joke?\n\n\"I will watch you train in the weapons-field, and make sure that life here is not too soft fora Sirak prince,\" Erdene said.\n\nKol smiled. \"You will not be disappointed,\" he said. \"Bleda excels in the field at most disciplines. His body and mind are strong. Honed. As is his aim.\" Kol didn't smile at the last remark.\n\n\"I will be the judge of that,\" Erdene said. \"So-\" she looked at Kol-\"much has changed here, since my last visit.\" Her gaze moved pointedly to Riv.\n\n\"Aye, betrayal and tragedy has struck us, with the death of Israfil,\" Kol said. \"But the light behind the clouds is that we are moving into anew age. A more tolerant age, which should bode well for all peoples in the Banished Lands, the Sirak included.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Erdene looked at Riv, her thick musculature, her wings, her bruises and scars.\n\n\"Tolerant? I suppose she is still breathing,\" Erdene said. \"Your Lore spoke of abomination and execution where half-breeds are concerned, I am told.\"\n\n\"Riv is no abomination,\" a voice said. When Bleda saw that all were staring at him he realized it had been his voice.\n\nA flicker of something across his mother's face, too fast to read.\n\n\"I am not an abomination,\" Riv growled, \"and any who wish to execute me-\" she looked at them all, slowly, one by one, then gave a shrug of her muscled shoulders-\"I say, let them try.\"\n\nSo fierce. So much against her, and yet she would fight the world, if she had to.\n\n\"It looks like some have already tried,\" Erdene said.\n\n\"Aye, they have. And yet here I stand,\" Riv said, a vicious smile cutting her face.\n\nKol threw his head back and laughed.\n\n\"Riv is a fierce one, and no denying,\" Kol said, still chuckling. He reached for the jug on the table and poured them all a cup of wine, taking along draught from his own cup, draining it and then pouring himself another.\n\n\"But these are fierce times, and fierce is what I need; the Kadoshim are moving throughout the Banished Lands, have attacked Drassil itself, though they were taught the error of that.\"\n\nBleda remembered that all too well: the Kadoshim attacking the Great Hall, attempting to free Asroth from his gaol of iron. Bleda had even played apart infighting them off, had slain some of their Feral beast-men. It had showed him that no matter what he thought of the Ben-Elim, the Kadoshim were worse. An evil that could not be negotiated with."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We must talk of strategy,\" Kol said, \"of how to work together to best defeat their scheming.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Erdene said. \"I have heard much of the Kadoshim. Of bonfire signals, of human sacrifice, entire towns slaughtered. But, is it not the Lord Protector with whom I should be talking about this matter?\"\n\n\"I am the Lord Protector,\" Kol said. \"To all intents. It is just a formality to proclaim me.\"\n\n\"Really?\" Erdene said. \"I have heard that Sariel sees things differently.\"\n\nA flicker of malice twisted Kol's face, replaced in a heartbeat with his sardonic smile.\n\n\"Trust me, Sariel is of no matter,\" he replied, taking another long sip from his cup. \"Now, enough of abominations and executions and fighting to the death, and onto happier matters. Your arrival was timely-and I thank you for your tithe of flesh. We are lacking in range troops at an elite level, and your contribution will be perfect to redress that balance, along with Uldin's tithe of flesh from the Cheren Clan.\" He paused for another drink.\n\n\"I had already sent messengers to bid you join us at Drassil,\" Kol continued, \"and Uldin of the Cheren. My messengers must have reached Arcona by now and delivered the message to him. But I was not requesting you to speed your tithe to us here at Drassil, I was asking you to join us for altogether another reason.\" Kol's smile drifted to Bleda, giving him a bad feeling in his belly.\n\n\"I see no reason to delay our plans for unifying the peoples of this Land of the Faithful. Bleda and Jin will be married upon Midsummer's Day.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bleda strode along Drassil's streets."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was cold and dark, torchlight flickering from shuttered windows around him. He was walking from the meeting with Kol and his mother, where he had spent as long as it took fora candle to burn from wick to stump as he had listened to the myriad details that went into planning his own handbinding.\n\nPlanning how I will be packaged and sold to seal a covenant between my people and the Ben-Elim, as if I were a prize bull at market.\n\nHe sucked in along breath and blew it out slowly, trying to control his sense of unease about it all.\n\nIt is my duty to serve my Clan, to protect them. Wedding Jin will put generations of blood-feud behind the Sirak and Cheren.\n\n\"Life is complicated,\" he breathed, to himself or Ruga, he was not sure.\n\nRuga strode along half a step behind him. She wore a cloak against the cold, though she'd pushed the hood back, her eyes always moving.\n\n\"For you, Lord,\" she agreed. \"Not for me. I serve my Queen, my Prince, my Clan. I eat, sleep, fight.\" She shrugged.\n\nBleda wanted to smile at that, felt jealous of the simplicity of her life.\n\nA muffled shout drifted down to them from above, and in a second Ruga had her bow in her hand, an arrow nocked. Bleda rested his hand on his bow in its case, staring up into the darkness.\n\nClouds masked the stars, the moon a silver sheen that gave little light. Either side of Bleda, buildings towered, most of them empty, here and there the flicker of firelight behind shuttered windows. They were in a section of the fortress used as barracks for new arrivals to Drassil, which was why Bleda was here-his mother was housed in the same quarter."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Another shout, almost directly above, a stirring of air, more like turbulence than wind. Unnatural, somehow.\n\nSomething dropped from the sky, a clang as it bounced and sparked on flagstones. Bleda ran to the object and picked it up. It was round, glinting in the wan light. A silver torc with two serpents' heads. Parts of it were coated in something black and sticky. Bleda touched it.\n\n\"Blood,\" he whispered to Ruga, who was scanning the coal-black above.\n\nThere were no more sounds, no sense of any kind of presence. Bleda slipped the torc into his cloak, both of them still looking up. Then something materialized out of the darkness, pale and floating. A large white feather drifted down between them and landed at Bleda's feet.\n\nIt had blood on it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem blinked sweat from his eyes and stumbled over a rock. He was trying to keep Flick insight, without breaking his ankle or neck on the loose terrain.\n\nAnd that crow sets quite apace.\n\nThey had followed Flick south and east into the Desolation, four days of almost constant movement, ever using the gullies and ravines that twisted through the land like the desiccated veins of a corpse.\n\nFlick was swooping back to them, low over their heads.\n\n\"Wait here, wait here,\" the huge crow squawked, \"Flick find Stepor.\"\n\nDrem turned to watch Flick pass over them all, the white bear far to the rear of their column raising its head and rumbling at the crow. Flick ignored it and banked into a half-circle, disappearing up and over the edge of the ravine they had been following since dawn.\n\nDrem looked to the north-west, eyes searching the skies. There was still no sign of Morn's bat-like silhouette. Drem had seen no evidence of the half-breed since the day they had fought the wyrms, almost a ten-night ago.\n\nDoesn't mean she's not up there, though, Drem thought. He felt more vulnerable now that Flick was gone, especially down herein a ravine, noway of knowing if enemies prowled above them, just beyond the ravine's edge.\n\nA bad spot for an ambush.\n\nIn the distance, the white-topped peaks of the Bonefells reared like jagged teeth along the horizon, making Drem realize how far south they had come. The weather had changed, the snow clouds disappearing, the ground underfoot free from snow, and the temperature had risen.\n\nA handful of days had passed since Drem had woken and not had to crack ice from his beard."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We are leaving winter behind us.\n\nHe twisted his head, squinting into the distance as something drew his eye. A flicker of movement, a speck in the sky. Drem blinked, straining to see better, but whatever it was had gone, if there had been anything there. Absently, his hand reached to take his pulse.\n\n\"Stepor must be close, then,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Must be,\" Keld said. The huntsman seemed to have fully recovered from his injuries, though Fen still walked with a limping gait at Keld's side. Drem suspected that would never leave the wolven-hound.\n\n\"Good old Rab,\" Cullen said. \"I knew he wouldn't let us down.\"\n\n\"He's a good bird,\" Keld nodded.\n\nDrem walked back to Hammer and checked on her injuries, the bear lowering her head to give him an affectionate nudge with her muzzle. He was pleased to see she was mending well, all her wounds healing, scabs thick, some of them already peeling to reveal white scars underneath.\n\nHer fur will never grow back there, Drem thought. \"A record of your courage and loyalty,\" Drem murmured as he stroked a scar along Hammer's muzzle.\n\nHe looked at the white bear. It was thirty or forty paces behind Hammer and had sat down with a rumbling sigh. It was still following them, or following Hammer, seeming quite happy to shamble along with them, though sometimes it would fall behind as it paused to rest. Its wounds had taken their toll. They were far worse than Hammer's, and each night Drem, Keld and Cullen had tried to change its dressings. They had not been entirely successful, the bear growling, curling his lip to reveal teeth as long as Drem's seax. Atone point Hammer had intervened and swatted the white bear with a paw, and although the white bear was significantly bigger than Hammer, he had acquiesced to her reprimand, bowing his head and rumbling quietly in his belly."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "But then Drem had discovered the trick to approaching the white bear safely. He reached into his pack and pulled out a clay jar, un-stoppering it and pouring some of its contents into his hand.\n\nHoney.\n\n\"Here you go, lad,\" Drem said as he approached the white bear, holding his handout.\n\nThe white bear lifted his head and took a great sniff, then heaved his bulk from the ground and ambled towards Drem, who waited patiently.\n\nThe bear licked Drem's hand with a huge, sandpaper-rough tongue, lapping the honey from his palm and all the while making contented snuffling, grumbling sounds. With his other hand Drem patted the bear's cheek and dug deep into the animal's thick fur to scratch his neck.\n\nWhen the bear had licked every last fraction of honey from Drem's hand, leaving it drenched and dripping with saliva, Drem flicked globs of spittle from his hand and scooped some more honey from his jar, spreading it over a rock.\n\nThe bear set to licking that clean and Drem checked on his wounds, used his water skin to wash them out, then applied fresh poultices of yarrow and comfrey. They were improving but were not yet as healed as Hammer's.\n\n\"We are all slaves to our bellies,\" Cullen said from behind Drem. He was leaning against a boulder with his arms folded across his chest.\n\n\"Speak for yourself,\" Keld grunted as he clambered up onto the boulder, allowing him to see a little further into the distance.\n\nTwo specks were in the sky, a black smudge and a pale one, growing quickly larger, swooping down into the ravine."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Stepor coming,\" Flick squawked, over and over.\n\n\"Rab!\" Cullen called out happily as the white smudge materialized into their friend and spiralled down to them.\n\n\"Friends, friends, friends,\" Rab cawed as he alighted upon Cullen's outstretched arm.\n\nFlick landed on the boulder beside Keld and set to grooming his feathers on one wing, all the while a beady eye watching Rab.\n\n\"You did it, Rab,\" Cullen said. \"You brought help.\"\n\n\"Rab did, Rab did,\" the white crow squawked, hopping up and down from one claw to the other in his excitement. \"Told Byrne Rab's friends need help.\"\n\n\"Ah, but you're a good friend to us, Rab, and no denying,\" Cullen said, grinning as he scratched the bird's chest.\n\n\"Flick found you,\" Flick reminded them from his boulder, shaking to ruffle his feathers up.\n\nDo crows sulk? Drem wondered.\n\n\"Flick clever, Flick brave,\" Rab cawed, bobbing his head.\n\n\"And we're grateful to you, Flick,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Welcome,\" Flick croaked.\n\nFen stood and sniffed the air, eyes fixed on the shadows in the ravine.\n\nAnd then there were shapes appearing, two four-legged shadows flitting amongst boulders and twisted hawthorn, another figure forming behind them. A dark-haired man dressed simply in leather and fur, the only hint of ornamentation the silver-starred brooch that pinned his cloak. He had a scarred, honest face above a snarl of black beard as thick and wild as the hawthorns in the ravine, his body lean, like Keld's, honed by the wilderness."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The huntsmen of Dun Seren all look like trappers."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But with more weapons.\n\nAxes and knives bristled from various belts strapped around his body, more hilts poking from his boots.\n\n\"Well met, Keld,\" the dark-haired man said as Keld climbed from his perch atop the boulder and strode to him.\n\n\"Well met, Stepor,\" Keld said, gripping Stepor's forearm in the warrior grip.\n\n\"What took you?\" Cullen said as he strolled over.\n\n\"The Desolation's a big place,\" Stepor grunted at Cullen, giving him a dark look from beneath bushy brows, but he took the young warrior's arm all the same.\n\n\"Well, better late than never,\" Cullen said, grinning.\n\n\"Late! Well, if you hadn't gone and got yourself lost in the arse-end of the world, in winter...\"\n\n\"I'm only jesting with you.\" Cullen grinned, holding his hands up. \"Ach, but it's good to see a slice of home, is it not, Keld?\"\n\n\"Aye, that it is,\" Keld said. He was crouching, two enormous wolven-hounds sniffing and licking him. One was crow-black with a splash of white on one paw, the other was as red as rust. With a growl, Fen pushed in, reminding them who Keld belonged to.\n\n\"No need for jealousy, lad. You know Grack and Ralla, and we're all on the same side here,\" Keld said, tugging on one of Fen's ears.\n\n\"And you must be Drem,\" Stepor said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Drem said.\n\nStepor strode to him, offering an arm. \"Well met.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem took Stepor's arm. \"Well met,\" he said.\n\nStepor looked Drem up and down. He was shorter than Drem, most men were, but Drem still felt like a child being inspected. He resisted the urge to look away and forced himself to meet Stepor's gaze. He'd never liked to be stared at, but his father had told him it was important to meet another man's eye, and so Drem had trained himself to do it.\n\n\"I can see your mother in you,\" Stepor said.\n\nMy mother.\n\nIt felt strange that others had known her, when Drem remembered so little of her. Her voice, her laugh, but so much else had faded.\n\n\"Hope you can fight like her, too, if half of what Rab's told us is true,\" Stepor said.\n\n\"Rab tell truth,\" the white crow squawked.\n\n\"Gulla in the north, acolytes, Feral men. Revenants,\" Stepor said, part statement, part question.\n\n\"Aye, it's all true, and more,\" Keld said. \"It's the time we've been waiting for. And Gunil stood with Gulla.\"\n\nStepor blew out along whistle. \"That's not going to go down well with old One-Eye.\"\n\n\"It's along walk from Drassil to the Desolation,\" Keld said.\n\n\"Aye, it would be, if Balur One-Eye was at Drassil,\" Stepor said. \"But he's not. He's about half a league to the south, helping us look for you.\"\n\n\"Balur One-Eye,\" breathed Drem. It was as if heroes of myth were coming to life. Warriors of the Bright Star, giants..."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You'll meet him soon enough,\" Stepor said, glancing up at the sky and the sun. \"If we ever stop talking and start walking.\" He looked at Hammer. \"Sig,\" he said, looking from Keld to Cullen, grief washing all of their faces. \"I grieve for your loss,\" he said to them all. \"For all our loss, but you were her crew, were closer to her than any other, except maybe Byrne. Sig was one of the greatest amongst us. Gave me more than a few bruises in her time, but each one taught me something.\"\n\n\"Aye. Move faster, duck quicker, or better still, just drop your weapon and walkaway from Sig,\" Cullen said, a faint smile on his face, a tear in his eye.\n\n\"Ha,\" Stepor barked a laugh. \"True enough. Not that you ever walked away, young Cullen. I've seen some of the lessons that Sig taught you.\" He winked at Keld.\n\n\"Never have learned to walkaway,\" Cullen admitted.\n\n\"There's much to talk on,\" Stepor said, \"including your new travelling companion.\" He raised an eyebrow and nodded at the white bear. \"But let's move out and set you on the path for home.\"\n\nHome? Dun Seren. I was born there, and yet I barely remember it.\n\nDrem drew in a deep breath and shouldered his pack.\n\n\"Flick, watch our backs while Rab leads us home,\" Stepor said, and with that they were moving out. Rab and Flick flapped into the sky, Fen, Grack and Ralla loping ahead and slipping into the shadows, Stepor setting a brisk pace, with Hammer and the white bear shambling after them.\n\nGoing home? If Dun Seren is my home, it is only because something of my mother and father abides there, Drem thought. And, he reminded himself, looking over his shoulder at the sky behind:"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We are not safe yet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv ducked a sword-swing, felt the air of it whistle over her head, stepped under Kol's arm and inside his guard, close enough to smell his sweat, and stabbed at his belly.\n\nWith a burst of speed she would not have thought possible, he somehow moved, twisting out of the way of her strike, swirling around her in a blur of white wings, and then his sword was resting on the back of her neck.\n\n\"You're dead,\" he said calmly.\n\nRiv snarled, a spasm of frustration racking her body. It was not the first time she'd heard that phrase today.\n\nKol stepped away, a smirk edging his lips; other Ben-Elim were behind him. Amongst them Riv saw Hadran, who had become her permanent guard. A dark bruise stained his eye and forehead from the fight in the field.\n\nRiv took a few paces and deep breaths to calm her simmering anger. They were back in the weapons-field. It looked different from the last time she'd seen it, with bodies wrapped in combat, or sprawled across the ground. Looking back on it, much seemed to have changed since then, when so many had stood for her, even crowds of traders and other ordinary citizens rushing in from beyond the field to defend her.\n\nOr maybe they all just like a good scrap.\n\nEven if there was some truth in that, Riv knew there was more to it. Ever since then, people had treated her differently, walking and talking with her in the street, sitting and eating with her in the feast-hall, treating her more like a wonder than a monstrosity.\n\nThere were still the dark looks, the glares and twisted mouths, but they seemed to be in the minority, and Riv found herself caring less."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aphra had said to her that it was because she had not killed Sorch.\n\n\"You showed mercy,\" Aphra had said.\n\n\"Think,\" Kol was saying. \"You have anew weapon now, you must learn to use it.\"\n\nHe was talking about Riv's wings. That was what this whole training session was about, helping Riv to adjust to her wings, and to learn how to use them in combat. She thought she had, but sparring against Kol made her realize how much more there was to learn.\n\n\"There are strengths and weaknesses to having wings,\" Kol continued, pacing around Riv. \"The main weakness is that we area bigger target; there is more of us to hit, and therefore injure. Also, our wings are vulnerable, they cannot be armoured or protected, so you must always be mindful of that. And for you, you must remember that you will not fit through spaces as you used to, that your wings are wider and taller than you, and you are wide enough already.\"\n\nRiv was already learning that, had discovered that sitting in chairs was difficult, and that some doorways were not wide enough for her, though fortunately Drassil had been built by giants for giants, so that was rare.\n\n\"The great strengths of wings in combat is speed and directional change,\" Kol continued.\n\nI think you just demonstrated that, Riv thought glumly.\n\n\"I can see you are judging my capabilities by your own ability, your own concept of speed and movement, and that of humankind,\" Kol said. \"You stabbed where you expected me to be. You must make allowances for that, and in time it will become automatic. You know most combat is too fast for thought, it is set reactions, drilled into us. So, you must drill hard, because the Kadoshim areas fast as us Ben-Elim, and you are going to be fighting Kadoshim.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Best way to learn is to do,\" Riv growled, and attacked Kol, pulsing her wings to speed her cut at Kol's chest, a diagonal sweep that caught his hip as he swayed right. Riv grinned and followed with a stab and slash at his belly and thigh, Kol stumbling backwards, but just when Riv thought she had him, Kol was gone, the grass swirling from the beating of his wings and his feet disappearing over Riv's head. She stabbed up and missed, glimpsed Kol looping over her, alighting behind her.\n\nWith a snarl, Riv leaped into the air, her wings powering her up, out of Kol's range, twisting to turn and face him, slashing down at his head. Kol blocked the blow and then he was in the air, too, both of them spiralling higher, swirling around each other, the crack of their practice swords a rapid discordant beat.\n\nRiv swept in close, stabbed at Kol's chest. His wings folded in tight and he just seemed to drop from the sky, her blade stabbing fresh air, then his wings were extending and he was cutting at her legs, striking her ankle and calf, rising up behind her to stab her in the back.\n\nRiv resisted the urge to leap at him, cling onto him and batter him with her fists. Instead she took a shuddering breath and flew a few wingbeats out of range, calming herself, thinking about the technical lessons being taught here.\n\nIt's about fluid motion, about speed, and using that speed to attack the flanks, striking from unexpected angles. The unseen blow is what ends the fight.\n\nShe gritted her teeth for another attack.\n\n\"Enough,\" Kol said, raising a hand. He was hovering in the air, wings beating lazily as he looked down at the weapons-field. Riv followed his gaze and saw that Erdene had ridden into the field with a large entourage behind her, making for the archery range. She saw Bleda riding at Erdene's side. He was staring up at her, and fora moment Riv remembered how she had smiled at him when he had arrived at the meeting with Erdene. She had felt like a fool, and something else, as if some bright, fragile thing within her had withered when she got no response from him."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "But he spoke out for me, when Erdene said I am an abomination.\n\nShe rolled her shoulders to ease the ache from hovering in the sky as emotions broiled in her gut.\n\n\"I must talk with Erdene,\" Kol said. \"Do not stray far, I must have you at my side in the Ben-Elim Moot.\"\n\n\"Huh,\" Riv grunted at Kol's back as he tucked his wings in and dived down towards Erdene.\n\nRiv was not looking forward to the Ben-Elim gathering, where once again she would be the topic of discussion. Although Kol clearly had a large proportion of Ben-Elim loyal to him, it was mostly other Ben-Elim that seemed to be struggling with her existence.\n\nShe scanned the field, saw Aphra drilling her shield wall, five hundred strong now. They were being broken up into five units of a hundred each, then training on the manoeuvres to merge and then split again.\n\nI miss the shield wall. Having wings is... lonely.\n\nRiv's eyes drifted back to Kol. He was standing beside Erdene now, though she seemed far more intent on watching Bleda ride the archery range. He was trotting onto the greensward, a gauntlet of land flanked on either side by two rows of straw targets. This was anew addition to the weapons-field, designed and erected after Bleda and Jin's honour guards had arrived, specifically for them to train and drill in their traditional ways. Riv had been stunned by their skill, both as horsemen and archers.\n\nBleda sat relaxed and easy upon his horse, moving fluidly from a trot into a canter and then a gallop, guiding his mount with his knees while he pulled a fistful of arrows from his quiver. He held them in his left hand that gripped his bow, leaning into his high-fronted saddle, and in a blur he was drawing and loosing, straw men jolting and shuddering with the impact of his arrows."
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"value": "Riv glided down, wings spread wide, watching as Bleda reached the end of the gauntlet, her admiration for his skill temporarily outweighing her shifting emotions. As Bleda left the range and curled round to return to his mother, two more riders entered the greensward, a man and woman, and in heartbeats their mounts were galloping, both of them leaning and loosing arrows, one to each side of the gauntlet. One target spun and pitched to the ground, the twine tying it to its pole snapping with the power of the shot.\n\nRiv flew down to Bleda, who was trotting now, and she matched her speed to his. Kol and Erdene were about a hundred paces away, deep in conversation.\n\n\"Fine shooting,\" she said.\n\nBleda shrugged, an acknowledgement.\n\n\"I saw you sparring in the sky,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"Kol is teaching me how to use my wings,\" Riv answered.\n\n\"You use them well enough,\" Bleda said. \"Back in the glade, you put Kol down.\"\n\nI wish we were back there still, that we could leave all of this behind. I felt... happy there, with you.\n\nThat is not real, now, Riv scolded herself. Live in the now, not the what-might-have-been.\n\n\"Aye,\" Riv nodded, \"but I didn't win.\"\n\n\"True enough.\"\n\n\"And most of that was blind rage and luck.\"\n\n\"Rage, yes.\" Bleda nodded. \"Luck, no.\"\n\n\"I had good people at my side, watching my back.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Bleda agreed again, \"but you fought Kol alone.\" He looked up at Riv and met her gaze, his dark eyes sad and full of emotion, even though his face did not shift or change even a fraction. Fora moment Riv felt the world fade and she was sitting back on the roadside in Forn with Bleda, laughing and giving him a flower of mountain thyme."
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"value": "Bleda reined in his horse.\n\nRiv alighted beside him.\n\n\"Why are we here?\" Bleda said, quietly. He looked around, eyes settling on Kol.\n\nBecause it was the only way to stop Kol from executing you. The only way for us to live without spending our lives-most likely our very short lives-being hunted to the ends of the earth.\n\n\"It was the wise thing to do,\" Riv said.\n\n\"Wise? You area lot of things, Riv, but I would not have counted wise as one of them.\" Bleda's mouth twitched, a moment of shock and humour before his cold-face locked back into place.\n\nRiv grinned at him. \"I can be wise, sometimes.\"\n\n\"Betrothed,\" a voice called out.\n\n\"See what your wisdom has done tome,\" Bleda whispered.\n\nRiv looked up to see Jin walking to the archery range, a score of her honour guard at her shoulders. She started to veer towards Bleda, but Queen Erdene called to her.\n\nWith a sigh, Bleda clicked his horse on and Riv walked beside him.\n\n\"Why did you try to kill Sorch?\" Riv asked him.\n\n\"Ah. I did not try to kill him.\"\n\n\"Are you telling me you aimed for his leg?\" That thought had not crossed Riv's mind.\n\n\"Of course! You think I would miss if I wanted to kill him?\"\n\nRiv shrugged. \"It was a hard shot.\"\n\n\"I do not miss.\" Bleda snorted. \"If I had wanted to kill him, he would be dead.\"\n\nRiv remembered watching Bleda a few moments ago, at the gallop and still putting his arrows in hearts and eyes."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So why did you shoot him in the leg?\"\n\n\"To distract you. You were strangling him. I thought you were going to choke the life from him, right therein the sky, in front of a whole field of people. It would hardly have ingratiated you to the folk of Drassil.\"\n\n\"So, you tried to distract me by shooting Sorch in the leg?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nRiv roared her laughter, wiped tears from her eyes when she regained some control. \"That was thoughtful of you.\" She chuckled.\n\n\"I must confess, I may have enjoyed it a little,\" Bleda said, which set Riv to laughing again.\n\nJin stared at them with cold eyes, though Erdene was talking to her.\n\n\"This fighting in the sky,\" Bleda said, \"it strikes me that you are limited. You still have to be close to kill. You are missing a great opportunity.\"\n\n\"What's that?\" Riv asked.\n\n\"You should wield ranged weapons. The bow, javelins. You would be death from above. And you should carry a shield.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"In case Jin wanted to shoot you from the sky.\"\n\nThat was a sobering thought. Riv had seen Jin's skill with a bow, and also the way the Cheren Princess looked at her.\n\n\"I'm not good enough with a bow,\" Riv said. It washer worst weapon. Sword, spear, knife she felt she could match most people, but with a bow...\n\n\"You could get better,\" Bleda said. \"And you haven't used the right bow. You couldn't take one of those logs in the air with you.\" He nodded towards some of Drassil's huntsmen and scouts practising on the range. \"You would need a Sirak bow, they are more suited to motion, to fighting whilst moving. They are smaller, easier to draw and with a greater range.\" He halted his horse again and lifted his bow from its case at his hip, his touch loving. He paused a moment, then offered it to Riv."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was used to it, had looked after Bleda's bow secretly for over five years, and had regularly tended to it, but somehow, with Bleda offering the bow to her now, it felt different. She reached out and took it, almost reverently. The bow was light, much lighter than the bows of yew and ash and elm that Drassil's huntsmen used, and it was balanced differently. She turned it in her hand, saw the layers of wood and horn and sinew.\n\nHow do you ever make something like this?\n\nRiv took the bowstring and began to draw.\n\n\"No,\" Bleda said, shaking his head. \"Never draw without an arrow nocked.\"\n\nRiv just shrugged and released the string.\n\nWhat Bleda was saying did make sense. Of course, there was a great advantage to being airborne in battle, but how much greater would that advantage be if you could strike at your enemy but they could not strike at you.\n\nAnd the Kadoshim-it could be used against them, too.\n\n\"Where would I get one of these?\" Riv asked.\n\nBleda shrugged. \"I'll see what I can do.\"\n\nThey were approaching Erdene and Kol now, Jin talking with them, too.\n\nBleda slipped gracefully from his saddle, one of his honour guard stepping forwards to take his reins-a dark-haired woman with a limp. Riv recognized her as one of Bleda's guards who had been at the cabin, so she nodded a greeting.\n\nThe warrior nodded in return, her eyes drifting to Bleda's bow in Riv's hand.\n\n\"Come, try it now,\" Bleda said, leading Riv to the toe-mark fora target on the range. A straw man about seventy or eighty paces away."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Nice and close to start with,\" Bleda said.\n\nRiv snorted, thinking he was joking, then saw from his face that he was not.\n\n\"Here,\" Bleda said, offering her arrows from his belted quiver.\n\nRiv took one.\n\n\"No, three or four, like this,\" Bleda said, grabbing a fistful and threading them through his fingers, showing Riv how to hold them and the bow at the same time. \"Time is the key to success, so why waste time reaching to draw one arrow at a time?\"\n\nFair point.\n\nClumsily, Riv took one from her left hand and nocked it, started to draw.\n\n\"Wait,\" Bleda said. \"See your target first. Imagine your arrow sinking deep. Think about the range, the poundage of the bow, the wind, balance it all in your mind first. Never take your eye from the target, even as you draw, and aim as you draw. Do not pause at the end of the draw. One motion, draw and release. Draw and release.\"\n\nRiv took a moment to think about all of that.\n\nIt's like the draw-attack from a scabbard, she thought. So many elements in one move, yet all of them made to look effortless. She took a deep breath, then nocked, drew and released, aiming a little high and to the right of her straw man's heart.\n\nIt hit him in the shoulder. Better than she would have done with a yew bow. The bow was remarkably smooth to draw, feeling much easier than one of Drassil's solid wood bows, and yet she had felt the power in the arrow as it had left the string, a rich thrum, and she'd known it would sink much deeper than from the bows she was used to using."
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Again,\" Bleda said, \"but this time, draw and loose a second arrow without waiting to see where the first one lands.\"\n\nRiv did. A deep, calming breath, then nock, draw, release, a slight fumble to nock the next arrow, then draw and release. She lowered the bow, saw the third arrow sink deep into the straw man's thigh. The second was buried in its belly.\n\n\"It is a start,\" Bleda said, \"from which you can only get better.\"\n\nFor the first time she could remember, Riv was glad of Bleda's cold-face, knowing that he was probably disgusted with her efforts, but secretly Riv was just pleased to have not missed with any of the three arrows.\n\n\"I will teach you,\" Bleda declared.\n\n\"A big auroch like her cannot master the skills of a Cheren bow,\" a voice behind them said. Riv wheeled around to see Jin standing behind her.\n\n\"It's a Sirak bow,\" Riv growled.\n\n\"Cheren, Sirak, we will be one Clan, soon,\" Jin said with a shrug. \"Isn't that right, my betrothed.\" Her eyes stayed fixed on Riv.\n\nBleda grunted something unintelligible.\n\n\"Bleda, I have good news. Kol has just told me that my father is less than a ten-night from Drassil, come with much of my kin to celebrate our handbinding.\"\n\n\"But Midsummer's Day is moons from now,\" Bleda said, a hint of emotion in his voice.\n\nPanic? Riv wanted it to be panic.\n\n\"There is much to organize,\" Jin said, her eyes still on Riv. And then Jin smiled at her, an expression that looked wholly alien on Jin's normally stony face."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Riv,\" a voice called, and Kol beat his wings and took to the air, hovering above them. \"Come, Riv, it is time for the Moot,\" Kol called down to her.\n\nRiv handed Bleda back his bow, then bent her legs and leaped into the air. She angled her wings and beat them harder than necessary to channel a blast of air at Jin, making her stumble back a step. Riv couldn't keep the grin from her face as she climbed into the sky, looking back once to see that Jin was talking animatedly to Bleda. Then Riv noticed someone staring at her, a fixed gaze that followed Riv through the sky as she flew after Kol.\n\nIt was Erdene, Queen of the Sirak."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha stood watching the two crows descend into the ravine. She was hiding in a stand of alder and beech that stood on a plateau above the ravine, Morn atone shoulder, Gunil at the other, her Ferals and Red Right Hand spread out behind her.\n\nFritha muttered a curse.\n\nCrows most likely meant the Order of the Bright Star were not far behind. She was tempted to rush them, knowing that Drem and his bedraggled companions were so close and unsuspecting of her presence.\n\n\"We should strike now,\" Morn whispered. \"They are so near.\"\n\nMorn had found them two days ago, returning to guide Fritha, but because of the wyrm, Fritha had not been able to move as fast as she'd have liked. Gunil had built the wyrm a cage, and two saplings had been cut down to make poles and a litter that they had tied to the girth and saddle of Gunil's bear, a makeshift travois that allowed them to continue tracking Drem and his companions. The weight of the sickly wyrm and its cage was not a problem to Claw, but the terrain was. Fritha had had to scout away that would not shake the cage to pieces, and so they were slower than Fritha had liked. She had thought about leaving the wyrm in its cage under guard, but it was so close to death that she had needed to spill her blood and chant her words of power twice since they had found the wyrm. If she left it, she knew it would die.\n\nIt would not take us long to reach that ravine; one burst of speed and we could be on them.\n\nBut it was open ground between this stand of trees and the ravine. If the Order of the Bright Star were close, she would be vulnerable. She knew her ability and that of her crew, knew they were deadly and dangerous."
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"value": "But so are the warriors of the Order. I am no fool to risk a battle I might lose.\n\nAnd although Morn had been far wiser and not flown close, she had still been able to see and report to Fritha that even without any new additions from the Order of the Bright Star, there were still three men, the wolven-hound, and another bear down in the ravine.\n\nWherein the Otherworld did that come from? It must be one of the Order's battle bears, but where is its giant?\n\nDo I rush them?\n\nHer palm rested on the hilt of her short-sword. She was not afraid to use it, not afraid to fight. But she was afraid to lose, and to see her crew cut down.\n\nEleven Ferals. Ten of my Red Right Hand. Gunil and his bear, against three men, two bears and a wolven-hound. The odds are not so clear now, and that is without any of the Order of the Bright Star arriving. They must be close for their crows to be here. They could already be in the ravine with Drem.\n\nClaw rumbled a growl in the trees behind them.\n\n\"Keep him quiet,\" Fritha snapped as she balanced on the knife-edge of indecision. The bear growled again and Gunil strode back to him. She heard the giant swear.\n\nFritha shifted on her feet, felt her muscles tense and she gripped her sword hilt, ready to draw it.\n\nAnd then the two crows flapped out of the ravine, the white one heading south-east, away from them, while the black one rose higher into the sky, circling towards Fritha and her stand of trees."
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"value": "\"Still,\" Fritha called to her people.\n\nClaw growled again, somehow sounding different from his usual one.\n\nI will go back there myself and kill that bear if it does not shut up.\n\n\"Fritha,\" Gunil called to her.\n\nSwearing under her breath, Fritha twisted on her heel and crept back into the stand of trees, a hundred or so paces and she saw the bulk of Claw. The wyrm cage was set behind him, unstrapped from its litter for the time being. The wyrm lay coiled and still within its bars.\n\n\"What is it?\" Fritha hissed.\n\nGunil just looked at the ground.\n\nHe'd unstrapped a large panier from Claw and laid it on the ground, opened the lid. Inside was a chest, the draig egg packed carefully within it, tight with straw.\n\nThe egg was moving.\n\nA draig is hatching.\n\nFritha froze fora moment, excitement and fear and wonder sweeping through her, washing all else away. She forgot about Drem and the others, about the crow somewhere in the sky above her, about the Great War, about the Banished Lands.\n\nAnd then she was on her knees, gently lifting the egg from the chest, straw falling away, and she was placing it on the ground, building up a bank of woodland litter around it to keep it from tipping over.\n\nThe side of the shell moved, like when she had seen her baby stir in her belly, the imprint of a hand or foot.\n\nA crackling sound, and a line appeared in the rippling hues of the egg, as fine as a hair, growing, branching into tendrils, like the veins of a leaf. A shape pushed out from the egg, a pinprick hole materializing, growing rapidly bigger and thick, mucus-like fluid leaked from the hole."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A series of cracks, as if Fritha had stood on a cluster of snails, and suddenly a shard of the egg was splintering away, something dark pushing it out. An eye blinked at Fritha.\n\nShe tentatively reached out and pulled the splintered part away, gripped another piece, gently working it loose, her hands slippery with jelly-like slime.\n\nA flat muzzle appeared, the creature within the egg squirming and wriggling, its first sight and breath filled with Fritha. Fritha worked harder at the shell, her excitement almost frantic, the creature within thrusting its snout through the hole, in moments its head free, then stuck at its broad shoulders, twisting and snapping as it tried to breakout.\n\n\"Patience, my love,\" Fritha crooned, hands slick with slime as she snapped another piece of shell, and then there was a concussive popping sound, cracks cobwebbing through the whole egg and it exploded, showering Fritha and Gunil's feet in shell and slime.\n\nA creature stood before Fritha on squat legs with abroad skull and flat muzzle. Wide, heavily muscled shoulders and a scaly torso tapered into a thick tail. From snout to tail-tip the baby draig was about the length of Fritha's arm. It opened its jaw, revealing rows of needle-like teeth, and let out a croaking dog-like bark, then it sniffed the air, snapping its jaws.\n\nIt's hungry.\n\nFritha lifted a portion of slime-covered eggshell and the draig sniffed it, along red tongue appearing, licking the mucus, and then it was crunching into the shell, devouring it in a series of rapid gulps. It looked at Fritha, wanting more."
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"value": "Fritha laughed and fed it more of the eggshell; in a few moments all of it gone into the draig's belly. It stared at Fritha again, thick tendrils of jelly hanging from its jaws, its tail twitching.\n\nStill hungry.\n\n\"Gunil, some wyrm meat.\"\n\nThey had stripped the wyrm carcasses of meat once her Ferals had had their fill-not that there had been much left after the feeding frenzy of eleven Ferals and Gunil's bear. Gunil had cooked it and packed it with salt. Fritha had found it surprisingly tasty.\n\nGunil opened a barrel strapped to his bear and passed Fritha a filleted section of wyrm. She waved it in front of the draig, its snout following the meat, sniffing it, and then its head was lunging forwards, chomping into the meat, ahead-shake like a terrier with a rat, and it tore a chunk, chewed and gulped, then immediately attacked the remaining meat. It swallowed the last portion, belched, then turned in a circle, scratched at the forest litter and lay down. Within heartbeats its belly was rising and falling in sleep.\n\nFritha stroked its broad head, scales still slick with glutinous slime. She looked over her shoulder, up at Gunil, and grinned. He did not look so happy as her, a slight twist of disgust on his lips.\n\nIt is life, new life. There is nothing but beauty in that.\n\n\"Gunil, we might need another cage.\"\n\nA rustling of branches above and behind Fritha, a bird squawking, and she jumped to her feet, turning, sword hissing into her hand."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "It was Morn, descending through the treetop canopy, something in her arms. She alighted before Fritha and held out a shifting, squirming bundle. It took Fritha a moment to realize what it was.\n\nThe net Morn had been snared in, and within it, a big black crow.\n\nFritha smiled at Morn.\n\n\"Let Flick go,\" the crow squawked.\n\nFritha clapped her hands in delight.\n\n\"Thank you, Drem,\" she said to the sky. \"One of Dun Seren's talking crows. Your gifts just keep oncoming.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv stood in a huge chamber, a half-circle of tiered stone seats leading down to a dais about a hundred paces wide. Ben-Elim thronged the room, areal sense of awe filling Riv at the sight of so many of the winged warriors in the same place.\n\nIs this all of them?\n\nShe had lived her whole life at Drassil and so was used to seeing many Ben-Elim, and she had been on numerous campaigns as support to her sister's hundred, but never had she seen this many Ben-Elim gathered together.\n\nThere must be three thousand of them inhere.\n\nRiv had been made to stand on the dais before the gathered Ben-Elim. She had received more than a few harsh looks, but to her surprise she also saw many faces that regarded her with something that resembled interest more than hate.\n\nOr perhaps it's wishful thinking.\n\nKol stood up. He was seated in the lowest tier, on the far edge of its arc, so that as he stood he could angle himself to lookup at all of the gathered Ben-Elim, and still be facing Riv.\n\n\"We must vote,\" he said. \"The day is almost done.\"\n\nBeams of light through huge unshuttered windows cut into the room, low as the sun dipped into the horizon. Riv had been standing in front of the gathered Ben-Elim long enough for her feet to ache. It had not been the most pleasant time of her life, bearing the brunt of three thousand judging pairs of eyes.\n\n\"Not all are here yet,\" a voice called out-Kamael with his fair hair, standing on the far side of the room, a dozen tiers up from the ground.\n\n\"You mean, Sariel is not here yet,\" Kol said."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye. Sariel is leader of the southern garrison, a respected elder. We cannot proceed without him.\"\n\n\"If Sariel cannot find the time to come to our Moot, the first that has been called for over half a century, then perhaps he is not worth waiting for,\" Kol said. \"This is a sacred meeting and should be respected as such.\"\n\nVoices called out their agreement.\n\nA Ben-Elim flew in through one of the large windows, gliding to Kamael's side. A few whispered words, Kamael frowning.\n\n\"Well,\" Kol said. \"Will Sariel be gracing us with his presence?\"\n\n\"He... cannot be found,\" Kamael said.\n\n\"Perhaps he has returned to Ripa,\" Kol offered.\n\n\"No. This is not characteristic of Sariel. We should search for him,\" Kamael said.\n\n\"Break off the Moot to find one straggler?\" Kol snapped, waving his arms. \"Ridiculous. I say we cast our votes for the new Lord Protector now.\"\n\nKol, you are so clever. Riv eyed Kol suspiciously, wondering if he had played any part in Sariel's lack of appearance at the Moot.\n\nIt would not surprise me. She felt a sense of discomfort at that thought, another reminder of how far Kol was from Riv's moral code.\n\nAm I becoming like him, by ignoring his myriad dark deeds? Is this how Aphra felt? Each small step taken fora greater good, and then before you know it, you have walked a thousand leagues from where you used to be. And how do you return to that place, return to the person you were? Or if you cannot do that, how do you become the person that you wish to be?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kamael scowled at Kol. \"Where is Sariel?\"\n\n\"I am not his keeper,\" Kol said, his expression flat and cold.\n\n\"Nothing would keep Sariel from this Moot.\" Kamael took a step closer to Kol. \"Something, or someone, must have stopped him.\"\n\nKol returned his gaze. \"Are you making an accusation? If you are, you must present your evidence, else you are spouting conjecture and fancy. That is not becoming of the Ben-Elim.\"\n\nHe is daring Kamael.\n\nKamael glared at Kola moment, his wings trembling.\n\n\"I have no evidence yet. But this Moot should be postponed until Sariel is found, or until we have answers for his absence.\"\n\n\"The fate of the Banished Lands should be postponed, with the Kadoshim stirring, because Sariel is late to a Moot?\"\n\n\"We should wait,\" Kamael maintained.\n\n\"It is not your decision to make,\" Kol said.\n\n\"And neither is it yours,\" Kamael answered. \"You are not our Lord Protector.\"\n\n\"Very well, let us vote on whether we should vote, then,\" Kol said, rolling his eyes. \"Or does that not meet with your approval either, Kamael? Would you be dictator to us all?\"\n\nCalls fora vote rang out.\n\nAlong silence, Kol and Kamael staring at each other as if the world around them was gone.\n\n\"Of course, let us vote,\" Kamael eventually said, though the twitching of his wings gave away his feelings on the matter.\n\nIt did not take long, the vast majority of the gathering stood to show their desire to vote."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I propose Kol be inducted as our new Lord Protector,\" a voice called out: Hadran, who remained on his seat even as the host who had stood were sitting back down. The bruises on his paleface from his fight in the weapons-field stood out like a smudge on pale parchment.\n\n\"First, we should discuss... this,\" Kamael said, waving a hand at Riv.\n\n\"There is nothing to discuss,\" Kol said. \"Riv was voted on before the whole of Drassil. To disregard that would be to disregard the people.\"\n\n\"We rule here,\" Kamael said.\n\nRiv just stared at the white-haired Ben-Elim. He was not the same as Sariel, did not seem to have his strength or force of presence. As much as she had despised what Sariel had said, his presence had been commanding. When he spoke, it felt natural to listen.\n\n\"We will not punish the innocent for the sins of their fathers, or mothers,\" Kol said. \"That has been decided, agreed by the people. Togo back on that would risk much, would even risk their faith in us, I fear. And let us not forget, when all of us are gathered together, there are little more than three thousand of us, whereas the mortals of these Banished Lands number in the hundreds of thousands. We rule because they allow us to rule.\"\n\n\"You speak nonsense.\" Kamael snorted.\n\n\"Do I?\" Kol replied. \"Our authority was accepted because we entered this world as the saviours of humankind, vanquishing the Kadoshim. But that was over a hundred years ago. Those grateful people are all long dead and in the ground. This new generation must accept us for what we do now, and they have already spoken on this matter. To overrule them now...\" Kol left the consequences of that hanging."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Rebellion?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv thought.\n\nWhich is why you made your stand in front of the people, Kol. To put these Ben-Elim in a position that they could not withdraw from gracefully.\n\n\"Who was your father?\" Kamael said, ignoring Kol's words. He lifted into the air from his seat and glided down to the dais, landing a few paces before Riv. His eyes bore into her.\n\n\"I don't know,\" Riv said, returning his stare with matched intensity.\n\n\"Who was he?\" Kamael asked again, lips curling in a snarl.\n\n\"I. Don't. Know,\" Riv said, quietly, anger pulsing with the beat of her heart, a drumbeat in her skull.\n\n\"Your mother?\"\n\n\"Dalmae,\" Riv said. \"Once a captain of a White-Wing hundred.\"\n\n\"And where is she?\"\n\n\"She was slain,\" Riv said. \"The night Israfil died.\"\n\n\"She fought in Israfil's defence,\" Kol said, loudly, for all to hear.\n\nNo. She fought in my defence. Against you, Kol.\n\n\"Against traitors. Dalmae is a hero.\"\n\nMurderer, Riv thought, straining to keep her anger at Kol leashed, her focus directed at Kamael.\n\n\"This is all so convenient,\" Kamael said. \"Your father unknown; your mother dead.\"\n\n\"Convenient?\" Riv said. \"Convenient that my mother is dead?\" She felt her fingers twitch, the memory of Dalmae's lifeless eyes staring at her. Mother, grandmother, it did not matter to Riv. Dalmae had raised Rivas her own, a lifetime of caring, teaching, loving. Just the memory of her stirred grief in Riv deep as her bones."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I loved my mother,\" Riv snarled."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Her death was a tragedy, not a convenience.\" The thought of wrapping her fingers around Kamael's throat was growing evermore appealing.\n\nAnd then, without warning, Kamael was moving, drawing a knife, stabbing, wings beating to close the gap between them.\n\nRiv saw the blade coming at her chest, its tip glinting in the last rays of the sun. She threw herself backwards, her wings snapping out and beating to break her fall, holding her bent almost parallel to the ground. Kamael's knife passed above Riv, slicing only air, and then Riv was grabbing Kamael's wrist, a twist of her hips and a beat of her wings and she was turning in the air, rolling around his arm, spinning him, too, snapping his wrist and taking his feet from the floor. She slammed him into the ground, standing over him, fists clenched, nostrils flaring.\n\nHer hand reached to the short-sword at her hip.\n\nThen Kol was there. Kamael tried to rise and Kol kicked him back down, put afoot on his chest.\n\n\"Riv is the future,\" Kol said, leaning over him.\n\n\"She is an affront to Elyon's Lore,\" Kamael spluttered.\n\n\"There is no Elyon's Lore,\" Kol snarled back. \"You know this. You know that we wrote it.\"\n\n\"What?\" Riv said, stunned.\n\nKol froze, staring at Riv. A silence settled around them, like a held breath.\n\n\"Elyon's Lore was written by the Ben-Elim,\" Kol said finally. \"It did not come from Elyon the Maker, it was, is only what we thought his will would be.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elyon's Lore, a lie.\n\nAll those countless hours listening to the Lore, learning, praying, obeying. The guilt of any wrongdoing.\n\nAnd it is a lie.\n\nHer world was continually shifting, like standing on a sheet of ice that flowed upon a river. Riv tried hard to keep her emotions from her face, the sense that she should not have heard this revelation heavy upon her.\n\nI must not give the Ben-Elim another reason to want me dead.\n\n\"But we are not Elyon, we are not divine,\" Kol said, staring up at the thousands of Ben-Elim gazing down at him. \"We wrote the Lore intending it to be a guide for mankind, and away of pleasing our Maker, when he returns. But perhaps on this one Lore, we were wrong. I ask you all, is it worth ruining our relationship with Elyon's creation, worth division with them, perhaps even a war with them? I ask you, is it worth losing all else we have gained in this land of flesh? Let this one Lore go, and let us move on with mankind. Let me lead you, name me your Lord Protector and I shall lead us through this. Anew order fora new world. It will make us stronger; it will make us more able to destroy the Kadoshim, our eternal foe.\"\n\nA silence, then one Ben-Elim stood.\n\nAnd then another, and another, and then the whole chamber seemed to shift, a wave of mail and wings as thousands of Ben-Elim rose to their feet.\n\nKol leaned over and gripped Kamael's hand, helping him to his feet.\n\n\"Be my friend, Kamael,\" Kol whispered, low enough that only Riv could hear, \"or you shall be my enemy.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kamael cradled his broken wrist, looking at Riv and then around the chamber. He slowly nodded. \"The Moot has spoken,\" he said, then spread his wings and flew back to the tiers.\n\n\"Well, I'm glad that's over with,\" Kol whispered to Riv through a beatific smile, even as he raised a hand in thanks, cheers of acclamation echoing from the Ben-Elim. \"Now we must fly for Dun Seren. Time to tell the good news to Ethlinn, Balur One-Eye and the damned Order of the Bright Star.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem stood open-mouthed and looked up.\n\n\"Well met, One-Eye,\" Keld said to the giant, who towered over them.\n\nThey had just crossed the ridge of a shallow slope and stood on a plateau that abruptly gave way to a sheer drop, the sound of a river far below. Balur was leaning against the wall of a wide bridge that spanned the drop. Beside him another giant sat upon the ground, passing a whetstone across the edge of along-hafted axe. This giant was black-haired, the sides of his head shaved to stubble, the hair on the top of his headlong and woven into a thick warrior braid. Another axe, like the one across his lap, was slung over his shoulder. But Drem's eyes were irresistibly drawn to Balur One-Eye.\n\nBalur One-Eye.\n\nThousands of years old, the tales tell, one of those that drank from the Starstone Cup, giving them long life and strength. Not that he looks as if he needed anymore strength. Though he does look old.\n\nBalur's face was a map of scars and ridges, skin puckered around one empty socket, his hair white as milk and tied into a thick warrior braid. His long, drooping moustache was bound with leather cord. But Drem could seethe knots and slabs of muscle that bunched beneath Balur's clothes. Even beneath layers of wool, leather and fur, Balur's musculature was formidable. His legs were wider than some trees Drem had seen. Tattoos of thorn and vine coiled around his thick forearms, disappearing beneath leather vambraces and fur-edged sleeves of linen. A war-hammer was slung over the giant's shoulder.\n\n\"Stepor found you, then,\" Balur One-Eye rumbled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Flick found them,\" Rab the crow squawked. He was perched on Cullen's shoulder.\n\n\"Aye, that's the truth of it,\" Stepor said.\n\n\"Well met, Balur One-Eye,\" Cullen said, swaggering up to the giant.\n\n\"Well met, little Cullen,\" Balur replied, the edge of a smile touching his lips. \"I am glad to see your hubris has not put you in a cairn yet.\"\n\n\"No one out there capable of doing that,\" Cullen replied with a grin.\n\nBalur looked at the dark-haired giant. \"You see what I mean?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" grunted the giant, not breaking a stroke of his axe-sharpening.\n\nHammer crested the ridge behind them, and the dark-haired giant rose, slinging his axe across his back and calling out to her.\n\n\"Ach, it is a sore sight, seeing that bear's back riderless. Sig, how could you fall?\" Balur's face twisted in grief, shifting to a glowering anger. \"Sig, I will avenge you,\" he growled.\n\nThen the white bear appeared behind Hammer. He saw the giants and stopped, though Hammer lumbered down to them, the dark-haired giant striding to her and wrapping one of his thick-muscled arms around her neck, laying his head against the bear and murmuring quietly.\n\nBalur looked at the white bear, then at Stepor and Keld, and raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"Don't look at me,\" Stepor said. \"This lot have been making friends in the wilderness.\"\n\n\"Found him being set upon by a brood of white wyrms,\" Keld said. \"We helped him out a little, and since then he's taken a liking to us.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 36"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who were they?\" Hadran asked.\n\n\"I saw Kadoshim flying above us like great bats.\"\n\nKamael spat a curse when the Kadoshim were mentioned.\n\n\"They were not alone; there were men and women with them, shaven-haired fanatics, but there were other... things... as well. Part man, part beast, that killed with claw and fang, not sword and spear.\"\n\nBleda remembered the Feral beast-men that had attacked Drassil. He remembered putting arrows into one, seeing it fall and rise again, ripping arrows from its body, charging at him in a snarling, berserker rage.\n\nHe shivered.\n\n\"And there were other things with them. Human inform but, believe me, human they were not.\"\n\n\"What do you mean? Speak clearer,\" Kamael the Ben-Elim said.\n\n\"They are difficult to describe, unless you see them, but perhaps this is clear enough for you,\" Uldin said, nodding to his honour guard with the sack. The warrior stepped forwards and emptied its contents on the ground.\n\nA severed head rolled across the stones, strips of skin, flesh and gristle draping from its neck. It was a woman, Bleda thought, though it was hard to tell. Her face looked malformed, eyes sunken, the skin stretched too tight, its mouth misshapen. Her lips were fixed in a savage rictus of a snarl, revealing a mouth that looked too big for the face it was set within, and either side of its elongated canines were rows of sharp, needle-like teeth.\n\nBleda resisted the urge to take a step away from the severed head.\n\n\"What is that?\" Hadran said, moving closer and leaning in fora better look."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I do not know, but they are hard to kill,\" Uldin said. \"A dozen arrows, a spear in its belly, but only when I took this one's head did it stop trying to sink its teeth into me.\"\n\nErdene stood and nudged it with her toe, sending it rolling in an arc across the stones.\n\n\"This is intolerable,\" Kamael said. \"Kadoshim and their followers so close to Drassil. We must send out the White-Wings.\" He looked to Hadran, and Bleda realized that Kamael did not have the authority to order such a campaign.\n\n\"Yes,\" Hadran said. \"We shall muster the White-Wings and fly outwith them.\"\n\n\"White-Wings, on foot?\" Uldin said. \"Better to send your giants on their bears. White-Wings would take a moon to walk the journey we have ridden since we were attacked.\"\n\n\"Ethlinn and Balur One-Eye are not here,\" Hadran said. \"They are at Dun Seren.\"\n\n\"Send for them,\" Kamael said.\n\n\"Dun Seren is the opposite direction,\" Hadran said. \"Word must be sent to Kol, but it is too far for Ethlinn and her bear-riders to reach us and then march on this new threat. Might as well send out the White-Wings as wait for the giants to arrive.\"\n\n\"But we cannot do nothing,\" Kamael said. \"The Kadoshim, so close.\"\n\n\"We will fly out,\" Hadran said. \"There are more Ben-Elim gathered at Drassil now than there have been for fifty years.\"\n\n\"But Forn is a mask from above. Remember Varan's Fall, the ambush in the trees. We need eyes and swords on the ground,\" Kamael said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I cannot conjure what does not exist,\" Hadran snapped. \"The choice is fly quick or march slow with the White-Wings.\"\n\nBleda looked at his mother. \"I have seen the Kadoshim, fought their Feral beasts. They are an evil that must be stopped.\"\n\nErdene looked at Bleda along moment.\n\n\"I will lead the Sirak out,\" Erdene said. \"I have half a thousand riders here. We shall ride out and meet this threat. We shall be your swords and eyes on the ground.\"\n\n\"I shall ride with you,\" Uldin said.\n\n\"You are recently wounded,\" Hadran pointed out.\n\n\"I will ride with Erdene,\" Uldin said. \"We are to be one Clan, soon, I know, but I would not have the Sirak steal the battle glory from us. The Cheren will ride to battle.\" He touched the stitched wound across his forehead. \"Besides, I have a score to settle.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem stepped out onto Dun Seren's weapons-field and paused, blinking at the enormity of it. It was only a little past dawn, the sun pale and fresh, painting the field in long shadows and hues of amber.\n\nPeople were everywhere. Thousands, it felt like-more people than Drem had ever seen in anyone place in all of his life. It was overwhelming. He raised a hand to find the pulse in his neck.\n\n\"Come on,\" Cullen called back to him, the red-haired warrior strutting onto the field, looking for all the world as if it belonged to him. Cullen glanced back at Drem, saw him hovering at the entrance to the field, and walked back to him.\n\n\"You've fought draigs, wyrms, Feral beasts. And a mad witch. This is nothing,\" Cullen said, wrapping an arm around Drem's shoulders and steering him onto the field. Drem allowed himself to be led, though he wasn't sure he agreed.\n\nI feel more comfortable in the wild.\n\nCullen steered Drem through a knot of giants sparring with wooden hammers and axes, the ground shaking as they crashed into each other, and then beyond them towards where the main mass of people were gathered, more joining them with every moment.\n\nByrne stood at their head, with two others beside her, a squat and muscular man and a tall, dark-skinned woman.\n\nByrne looked very different from the kindly aunt who had comforted him only a day ago, dressed now in simple working leathers, her hair tied back severely to show her sharp-angled face. The other two were dressed similarly. The tall woman looked at Drem as he followed Cullen.\n\n\"Who are they?\" Drem whispered to Cullen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Those with Byrne, they're Kill and Cure,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Eh?\" Drem frowned.\n\n\"Byrne's two captains,\" Cullen said. \"A quick history lesson is needed, I think, else you'll go embarrassing yourself, and that will make me look bad.\" He grinned at Drem's confused expression. \"This Order was founded in remembrance of two people, Brina and Gar, Corban's dearest friends. They fell in the battle on the Day of Wrath, and Corban swore to honour and remember them.\" Cullen gestured at Dun Seren. \"This is how he did it, by building this place. Not just the walls and towers, but the people you see around you. Gar was a warrior, Corban's teacher, and Brina was a healer. So here at Dun Seren Corban founded an order dedicated to both arts. How to kill, and how to cure. We learn both here, and so there are two captains-one to oversee each discipline. Kill and Cure.\" Cullen pointed at the man and woman with Byrne.\n\n\"Ah, so those aren't their real names, then?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Ha, no, but they might as well be. No one calls them by anything else, now.\"\n\n\"So...\" Drem began.\n\n\"More questions later,\" Cullen said as he took a place in the lines, beckoning Drem to stand beside him. \"No more time now.\"\n\n\"What are we doing?\"\n\n\"This is the Order of the Bright Star, how else do you think we'd start the day? Not too close, now,\" Cullen said, \"else you'll end up slicing someone's body parts off.\"\n\n\"Eh?\" Drem said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then he saw Byrne draw the curved sword from her back, holding it loosely.\n\nDrem realized what they were doing.\n\nThe sword dance.\n\n\"Stooping falcon,\" Byrne called out, raising her sword two-handed over her head.\n\nDrem drew his father's sword, his sword now, set his feet and raised the blade high.\n\n\"Lightning strike,\" Byrne called out and over a thousand swords slashed down, diagonally, right to left, the sound of it like a high wind passing through the gullies of the Bonefells. It was exhilarating.\n\nThey held the pose for long moments, sweat dappling Drem's brow, steaming in the morning's chill air.\n\n\"Boar's tusk,\" Byrne cried out, all those gathered on the field taking a step and stabbing forwards, low to high, legs bent, arms extended. Holding the pose again, muscles beginning to burn in thigh and back, shoulder and wrist.\n\n\"Iron gate,\" Byrne cried. Drem took a step back, bringing his sword across his body, a diagonal defence.\n\n\"Scorpion's tail,\" called Byrne, and Drem dropped into a squatting stance, one hand in front for balance, his blade above his head and behind, parallel to the ground, like a scorpion's tail about to strike.\n\nAll around him men and women were doing the same, and as Byrne called the forms Drem heard his father's voice and imagined his mother and father working through the sword dance, on this very field, just as he was now.\n\nThere was a comfort in that, something warm and satisfying.\n\nBefore he realized, it was over, people all around him were sheathing their blades, Cullen stepping over to slap him on the shoulder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come on, don't let the sweat dry,\" Cullen said. He laughed as Drem fumbled sheathing his sword and then led Drem away from the centre ground, towards racks of wooden weapons.\n\nAll around the field groups gathered indifferent disciplines. Some stood in a loose-ordered line, four ranks deep, with the Order's round shields on their arm. A command was shouted and the ranks closed up, shields coming together with aloud snap, forming a wall of wood andiron.\n\nBeyond them riders galloped, swords slicing at fruit on stands. Elsewhere a warrior ran alongside a cantering horse, grabbed its saddle and leaped into the air, swinging himself up onto the horse's back, grabbing reins and urging the horse to a gallop.\n\n\"The running mount,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"That's amazing,\" Drem told him.\n\n\"Part of every warrior's training here. Fail that and you fail your warrior trial.\"\n\n\"You can do that?\" Drem asked Cullen.\n\n\"Oh aye, of course I can.\" Cullen grinned.\n\nDrem shook his head, continued looking around. He saw giants on bears, archers loosing at straw targets, another group of warriors practising with the lead-weighted nets Drem had seen Cullen use on the Kadoshim half-breed.\n\nEverywhere, the art of killing was being rehearsed.\n\nCullen hefted a few wooden swords, then put them back, finally settling on one for himself and for Drem.\n\n\"Sword belt off,\" Cullen said as he unbuckled his own weapons-belt and lay it alongside a rack of other scabbarded swords. \"It's wood for sparring, not steel.\" He threw Drem a wooden practice sword. Drem caught it, to his surprise found it was heavier than his sword. He questioned Cullen about it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"These wooden blades are drilled out, hollowed, and then lead poured inside,\" Cullen said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Train hard, fight easy.\" He smiled. \"After a moon in the field with this you'll feel as if you're wielding a feather when you use your blades of steel. And you'll have wrists and arms of iron.\"\n\nAnd then Cullen came at Drem, using the forms they'd just practised in the sword dance, pausing between almost every strike, talking to Drem about his stance, his footwork, describing how he should blend it all into defence and attack.\n\nCullen started slowly, explaining the theory of every strike and defence after he executed them, but as time went on his attacks became faster, then combinations of blows, and Drem found himself sweating, managing to defend a few blows, but always the end was the same, Cullen's sword giving him a bruise, or a touch to neck, heart or groin.\n\nCullen stabbed at Drem's shoulder; as Drem swept his sword to block the blow, Cullen twisted his wrist, dropped his sword below Drem's parry and stabbed him in the belly.\n\nI am dead a hundred times already.\n\nAs they sparred Drem became aware of people gathering around them, of eyes on him.\n\n\"The power in a strike does not come from your arms alone,\" Cullen said to Drem. \"It's more legs and hips exploding up, into and through your arms. And little steps,\" Cullen added. \"Never over-extend. Lose your balance, lose your head.\" He grinned again, luring Drem into a lunge that ended with Cullen's sword on the back of Drem's neck.\n\n\"Drem, try fighting him with these,\" a voice called out, and Drem turned, saw Keld throwing objects at him. Instinctively he caught the first, dropped his sword and caught the second. Looking in his hands he had wooden versions of a short-sword and axe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Closest thing I could find to the seax Olin forged for you,\" Keld said. \"Now put Cullen on his arse.\"\n\nDrem nodded his thanks. He didn't really know what was expected of these weapons, had not learned any forms with them. But he was used to them, familiar through over a decade of use, even if it was only through trapping and hunting. And he had used them against Fritha and her Ferals.\n\nNot that that turned out too well.\n\nHe glimpsed giants in the crowd around him, Balur and Alcyon therewith Tain the crow master, all watching him and Cullen, and amongst them, Byrne, arms folded across her chest, face set in stern lines. A handful of women were all staring at Cullen, who was blowing them a kiss.\n\nDrem set his feet, short-sword in his right hand, axe in his left.\n\nCullen grinned at him, circling, Drem shifting to face him.\n\nCullen lunged in, sword snaking out, cutting at Drem's shoulder. Drem's axe swept the blow wide, but somehow Cullen twisted his wrist, his sword suddenly below Drem's axe and it was cutting in at his ribs. Drem threw himself backwards, narrowly avoiding the blow. Cullen was grinning, ear to ear, and striding at him. Drem retreated, a flurry of clacks as he managed to block a torrent of blows.\n\nHe didn't know how long it went on for, only that his lungs were burning as he instinctively tried to stay alive a few heartbeats longer. The fact that Cullen was pausing fora heartbeat here and thereto lavish a smile on someone in the crowd, or to wink at some female, gave him a few moments of recovery. Thoughts began to filter into his mind-Drem's logic analysing how he was being manoeuvred and out-skilled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He is dictating this, while all I do is defend.\n\n\"Get in close,\" a voice called out, Keld, Drem thought.\n\nHe's right, Cullen has the advantage of reach with his sword. If I am to score a hit, I must get closer to him.\n\nAnd then Cullen was stepping in, a stab at Drem's shoulder. Drem made to block it, recognized the feint Cullen had used on him when he had been using his practice sword. He parried with his axe, at the last moment dropping the angle, catching and hooking Cullen's blade as it made to sweep under his arm.\n\nThere was a moment's surprise on Cullen's face, his grin wavering as Drem dragged him off balance. Drem stepped in and then his short-sword was at Cullen's throat.\n\n\"Ha, Cullen's dead,\" a voice called out, Stepor, perhaps. Cullen was standing frozen still, just staring at Drem, a shocked expression on the young warrior's face. Then he was moving back, holding his hands in the air.\n\n\"Well, aren't I the arsewipe,\" Cullen said, a smile splitting his face. He looked at the crowd gathered about them. \"That'll teach me to underestimate a foe.\" He looked at Keld and Stepor, who were laughing hard. \"Thought I'd say that before you two did,\" Cullen said to them, which made them laugh all the harder.\n\nDrem looked around the crowd, saw Byrne staring at him. She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. A ghost of a smile, then she was moving on, talking to another pair who were sparring, checking and adjusting their stances.\n\n\"Come on, Drem, my lad,\" Cullen said. \"Let's see how you get on with a shield in your hand.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I wish he'd stop calling me lad.\n\nA noise drew Drem's attention; people were stopping in their training and pausing to stare towards the entrance field. Drem looked, too, and saw a group of men and women walking onto the field, a hundred of them at least.\n\nThey walked with the self-assured confidence of warriors, a harnessed grace about them, an air of violence. All were clothed in dark breeches and shirts of mail beneath hard-boiled leather cuirasses.\n\nThey were clearly warriors of the Order, as all of them wore the bright star emblazoned upon their cuirasses, but to Drem they looked startlingly different to the other warriors in the field. They were dark-skinned, all with long, jet-black hair tied at the nape, and all wore curved, two-handed swords across their backs.\n\nLike Byrne's.\n\nCheers rang out to welcome these newcomers.\n\nA man led them, dressed the same, with a hooked nose that reminded Drem of a hawk. His dark hair was streaked with grey and silver, but something about him set him apart from the others. Perhaps it was the way he was smiling, nodding and raising a hand to the greetings echoing out. Or maybe it was the way he seemed to all but glide across the ground, his movements fluid and contained.\n\n\"Who are they?\" Drem asked Cullen.\n\n\"That's Utul and his crew, answering the call to muster, I'd guess,\" Cullen said. \"Not bad in a scrap, is Utul. Not as handy to have around as me, of course, but not bad. He's captain of the Order's garrison in Balara.\"\n\n\"Balara?\" Drem asked, the name vaguely familiar to him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Aye."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "An old giant fortress far to the south, on the coast of the Tethys Sea.\"\n\nThat's along way from here, if my lessons were taught right, Drem thought.\n\nClose by, the giant Tain looked up, shielding his eyes to stare. A shape was approaching in the northern sky, a pale pinprick that grew, squawking and croaking as it descended down to the weapons-field.\n\nRab alighted on Tain's outstretched arm.\n\n\"What news, Rab?\" Byrne asked as she approached, Kill and Cure either side of her.\n\n\"Death in the north,\" the crow squawked. \"People running, hunted by Twisted men.\"\n\nDrem felt his back stiffen. That was the name Rab had given the Ferals.\n\n\"They need help,\" Rab squawked.\n\nByrne looked to Keld and Stepor.\n\n\"Let's go get them,\" Cullen said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha tapped heels against her stolen horse, urging it into a canter as she turned a corner in the road and saw Starstone Lake appear before her, its dark waters glittering in the bright sunlight. Ina cluster upon its northern bank squatted the mine, the sight of it setting off an abundance of memories for Fritha.\n\nThis is where it all began. My creations. Making new life. Absently she put a hand to her belly, fora heartbeat could almost remember what it had been like to hold anew life within her, to feel it growing, changing.\n\nThe most wonderful feeling in the world.\n\nAnd the Ben-Elim tainted that for me.\n\nTo her left, woodland spread as far as her eye could see, sweeping up to the foothills of the Bonefells. The last time she had been here the landscape was snowbound, but now spring was asserting its grip upon the land. Snow still clung stubbornly to the trees, but it was melting, boughs creaking as the weight upon them shifted, new streams of snowmelt winding their way into the lake.\n\nThe gates to the mine opened as she approached; Fritha rode through first, nodding a greeting to the men and women manning the gates, part of her Red Right Hand that she had left behind.\n\nA shadow skimmed the ground and Fritha looked up and saw Morn sweeping low over the mine, circling down towards the central square, where Fritha's table was set.\n\nFritha led her column through the complex towards its centre, where the cave-riddled boulder of granite reared. Shaven-haired men and women greeted Fritha, acolytes she recognized, and others she did not.\n\nMore that have answered Gulla's call."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As she rode on she saw people everywhere, a frenetic energy in the air.\n\nSomething is happening.\n\nElsewhere were groups of men and women, standing in huddled masses. Fritha's eye was drawn to them. Hair matted and unkempt, clothes lank, torn, arms hanging limp at their sides. They were standing perfectly, unnaturally still. The acolytes seemed to avoid these groups, swirling past them like water parting for rocks in a stream.\n\nSpace opened around Fritha as she rode her horse into the clearing before the boulder, a gesture ordering her column to halt in the shadows of a street. Her bloodstained table dominated the open space, wide and deep, iron hooks and chains littered upon its surface, and beyond it was Gulla, High Captain of the Kadoshim.\n\nHe stood tall and broad, leathery wings folded and arching behind each shoulder, his face all sharp angles and tight skin, the gaping socket where the white crow had taken his eye a dark, skin-puckered hole. When he moved there was a shimmer of darkness around him, a black nimbus.\n\nA figure stood behind him, unnaturally still. It took a moment to recognize him as Ulf the tanner of Kergard.\n\nNo, no longer Ulf the tanner. Now he is Ulf the Revenant, one of the Seven.\n\nHe was thinner than Fritha remembered, his face gaunt, features chiselled, with deep pools of shadow around his eyes and cheeks. A smear of something dark and crusted ran from his lip to his chin.\n\nGulla strode around the table and stood before Fritha as she reined in and dismounted, one of her Red Right Hand hurrying over to take her reins and lead her horse away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Morn swept down from the sky, landing beside Fritha, and together they dropped to one knee, bowing their heads before Gulla.\n\n\"Greetings, my daughter,\" Gulla said, and Fritha heard Morn stand.\n\n\"Father,\" said Morn. An embrace.\n\n\"Priestess, where are those I sent you out to capture?\" Gulla said, his voice sounding as if it hissed and scratched inside Fritha's skull.\n\n\"Forgive me, Lord,\" Fritha said. She paused, struggling with the words she was about to say. Knew she had to say. \"I have failed you.\"\n\nFritha left a silence as Gulla stared at her.\n\n\"The huntsman, versed in the earth power, and Cullen, descendant of Corban, both slipped through your fingers,\" Gulla said quietly, dangerously.\n\nFritha gulped. \"But I have brought you gifts,\" she said.\n\n\"Gifts,\" Gulla said. \"They must be great indeed to make your failure fade.\" A brush of his fingertips upon her shoulder bidding her to rise.\n\nFritha felt her blood burn at his words as she stood.\n\nFailure.\n\n\"Behold,\" Fritha said, gesturing behind her and turning.\n\nA shouted command, the crack of a whip and her column rolled into the space.\n\nFirst came a dozen of her Red Right Hand, all on stolen mounts, and swirling at their flanks were her Ferals, loping, some on two legs, others using their extended arms as extra legs. They all filed left or right, making way for Gunil upon his giant bear, dipping his head to Gulla as he reined in. Claw was pulling a travois with a cage upon it, sheets of stitched hide covering its contents. Fritha heard a sibilant hissing from within the cage and smiled. Her wyrm was still alive, stronger than it had been."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Behind the bear and the cage a wain was being pulled by a harnessed bull auroch, its chest as broad as the wain. Its head reared up as Arn touched its flanks with a whip and it let out a mournful bellow. On the bench seat beside Arn stood another cage, far smaller than the one that contained the wyrm. The crow from Dun Seren sat upon a perch, head bowed, feathers ruffled and shoulders hunched as its intelligent eyes swivelled back and forth, taking in all it could see of the mine.\n\nHe is a nosy bird, perfect for being a spy of the Order.\n\nThe crow's eyes touched on Gulla and froze, staring.\n\nIn the back of the wain lay Elise, pale and sweat-stained, and beside her one last cage, this one larger than the crow's cage, smaller than the wyrm's, and in it was Fritha's draig. She could hear it snoring as the cart rolled to a halt before her.\n\nAll he does is sleep and eat, thought Fritha affectionately.\n\nAnother wain rumbled along behind Arn's, this one full with people they had taken on their journey back to the mine. Some were from the hold Fritha had taken to contact Gulla, the rest from holds they'd encountered during their return journey.\n\nAnother gift for Gulla, to appease him for my failure.\n\nBehind this vehicle the last of her Red Right Hand rode. The stolen mounts and wains had speeded their journey back to the mine considerably. That and the fact that they could cut straight across the Desolation, instead of following the protracted route through the Bonefells that they had taken in pursuit of Drem and his companions."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha approached the cage harnessed to Gunil's bear. She undid the knots that tied the hide covering to the cage's bars, then grabbed a fistful of the hide and pulled it free.\n\nThe white wyrm reared on its coils, head weaving. It was still not healed, some of its wounds leaking a stinking pus, but it had returned from the shade of death. A rattling hiss emanated from its throat as it bared long fangs at Fritha.\n\n\"A wyrm, survivor of the breed created by the giants in their War of Treasures,\" Fritha said. \"We thought them long dead, but I bring you one, my Lord.\" She bowed.\n\n\"Impressive,\" Gulla said, leaning close to the bars.\n\nThe wyrm's head darted forward, as big as a shield, then froze, its tongue darting out, tasting the air. A ripple as it slithered away, pressed its bulk against the bars at the back of the cage, away from Gulla.\n\n\"It fears you, my Lord,\" Fritha said. \"As is only right.\"\n\nGulla smiled.\n\n\"And I bring you this,\" Fritha said, walking away from the wyrm's cage, towards Arn's wain. The draig was awake in its cage now, grown already, roughly the size of a war-hound, though lower to the ground, but broader across the chest and shoulders. It scuttled over to Fritha as she approached the bars, mouth open, and she reached into a bucket and pulled out a still-dripping liver, cut from an elk that her Ferals had tracked and brought down that morning. She threw it into the cage and the draig set to ripping it apart, swallowing great chunks of it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gulla drew near and it stopped its feasting, one taloned foot on its food, and growled at Gulla. A deep rumbling in its belly, like gravel sliding down a slope.\n\n\"It has more courage than your wyrm,\" Gulla observed. \"Or less intelligence.\"\n\nHe stepped closer to Fritha and the draig threw itself at the bars, crunching into them, wood bending, cracking, jaws and claws reaching for Gulla, but the cage held.\n\n\"I don't think he likes you,\" Gunil observed from the back of his bear.\n\nFritha shot Gunil a dark look.\n\n\"The draig has bonded tome, my Lord. He has an acute sense of loyalty.\"\n\n\"Not a fault,\" Gulla said. \"I like it. Use it well.\"\n\n\"And my last gift to you, my Lord,\" Fritha said, gesturing to the crow in its cage beside Arn.\n\nGulla looked at Fritha, an eyebrow raised.\n\n\"A crow?\" he said.\n\n\"Look closer,\" Fritha said.\n\nGulla leaned in, peering at the crow, which shuffled on its perch, ruffling its feathers.\n\n\"Kadoshim, badman,\" the crow muttered.\n\nGulla smiled.\n\n\"This is Flick, a crow of Dun Seren,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"I think you must have much to tell me, Flick of Dun Seren,\" Gulla said.\n\nFlick hopped on his perch.\n\n\"Tell badman nothing,\" Flick croaked.\n\n\"We shall see.\" Gulla smiled, then looked to Fritha. \"You have done well, Priestess. Maybe not redeemed yourself, quite. But well enough.\" His look darkened. \"Dun Seren will know of us by now. They will march onus.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They will, my Lord.\"\n\n\"We must be ready,\" Gulla growled. \"A hundred and thirty years of war in these Banished Lands, coming down to these few last moons.\" He looked at Fritha, long and appraising. Then at the wains and beasts in their cages.\n\n\"And these?\" he said, waving his hand at the score of prisoners.\n\n\"Recruits.\" Fritha shrugged. \"Acolytes, or perhaps to feed your new thirst. Or that of the Seven.\"\n\n\"The Seven I have sent out,\" Gulla said. \"All but Ulf, who has a purpose here.\"\n\nFritha looked beyond Gulla to Ulf, standing perfectly still, like a carven statue behind her table.\n\n\"I thank you for these gifts you bring tome, and yet I seethe light in your eyes, Priestess,\" Gulla said. \"I see your greed.\"\n\n\"They are for you, to help you win this war. But if I worked with them a little, made them into something new, I am certain they would be of greater use...\"\n\n\"Very well, then,\" Gulla said. \"Work your magic with them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hooves clattered on stone as Drem rode across the bridge that led away from Dun Seren and back into the Desolation. Beside him was Keld, sitting easily on a dappled mare, Fen loping ahead with Stepor's wolven-hounds, Grack and Ralla.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Drem said to the huntsman.\n\n\"What for?\" Keld frowned.\n\n\"Speaking for me.\"\n\nWhen Drem had heard Rab's news of people being hunted by Ferals he had instinctively volunteered to ride outwith Keld. The huntsman had been given the task of putting together a scouting party to try and find them before it was too late. Drem didn't like the thought of riding into battle and violence, but he knew better than most what the Ferals were capable of and the devastation they could cause.\n\nByrne had pursed her lips, not happy at Drem riding back into the Desolation.\n\n\"You have been here little more than a day,\" she had said.\n\n\"Drem'd be welcome in my crew,\" Keld had replied. \"He's as fine a huntsman as you'll find.\"\n\nByrne had given Keld astern look but she had not refused him.\n\n\"Meant what I said,\" Keld replied. \"You area fine huntsman. But more than that, I trust you with my back.\"\n\nCullen's laugh rose up behind them, and Drem twisted in his saddle to look back.\n\nThe red-haired warrior was riding alongside two of the warriors from Balara in the south, Utul, their captain, and a woman named Shar. Cullen and Utul were laughing about something, the woman stern-faced and unamused. Behind them were five more riders-the man named Cure with four more healers. They were riding to Dalgarth, the traders' town, as the plague there was rumoured to be worsening."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Last of all, two giants towered at the rear of their small party, Alcyon with his twin axes slung behind his shoulders and Tain the crow master striding beside him.\n\nDrem looked at the bulk of Dun Seren rearing behind them and breathed a sigh of relief to be out in the open again. While he already felt a fond sentiment for the fortress because of his parents and now Byrne, the sheer numbers of those living within its walls were not the easiest thing for him to deal with. Almost all of his life he had lived alone, just his da and the wilderness for company, so Dun Seren was overwhelming.\n\nHe turned and set his face to the north, to the rolling terrain and wide blue sky.\n\n\"We'll be leaving you now,\" Cure said as Dalgarth came into view. He was a squat, muscled man who looked more suited to the pugil ring than healing, but there was a steady kindness in his gaze that had Drem trusting him almost instantly.\n\n\"Ride wide around the town,\" Cure said to Keld and Stepor. \"Take no risks. I'd not have you on a sickbed when there's fighting to be done.\"\n\n\"Nothing out there that'll keep me from a fight,\" Cullen said.\n\nCure shook his head at Cullen with awry grin. \"Stay safe, Cullen.\"\n\nCullen twisted his face as if Cure had insulted him, or he had caught a bad smell.\n\n\"Safe!\"\n\nCure rolled his eyes, then with a click he urged his horse into a canter towards the plague-ridden town, his four healers riding with him.\n\n\"Stay safe yourself,\" Cullen called out after them.\n\nCure just raised a hand in farewell."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So, let's go find these Ferals, then,\" Cullen said, grinning at them all.\n\n\"This way, this way,\" Rab squawked, flapping into the bright blue.\n\nMoonlight silvered their camp as Cullen leaned forwards and offered Drem a strip of salted pork. He took it and chewed, pulling his cloak tighter about his shoulders. Keld had forbidden afire because Rab had told them they were close, the crow spying strange movements in the scrubland and ravines only a few leagues ahead.\n\nThey had made camp in a sheltered gully beside a stream. Keld and Fen were outstanding guard somewhere in the darkness while the rest of them ate or tried to sleep. There was not much of that going round, though, except for Stepor and his two wolven-hounds. All three of them lay curled tightly together, and all of them were snoring.\n\nAlcyon the giant sat with one of his axes across his lap, sharpening it with a whetstone. Drem thought it was more habit than necessity, as Alcyon had performed the same routine every time they had made camp during the journey back to Dun Seren.\n\nTain was sitting silently beside him, looking up at the sky. It was a cloudless night, moon and stars a shimmering tapestry hanging above them.\n\nDrem's gaze shifted to Utul and Shar, who were also tending to weapons, swords and knives on their laps being oiled and scoured.\n\n\"You both look different from other warriors of the Order,\" Drem said to them.\n\nShar looked sharply at him, making him blink.\n\nDid I say that wrong? Da was always telling me I could be too straightforward. It's so hard to know without him hereto tell me. Drem felt a twist in his gut, a twinge of the always-present grief lurking deep in his bones."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well, our skin is darker than you northerners,\" Shar said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She looked at him stonily.\n\n\"I don't mean that,\" Drem said, trying to explain. \"There is just something about you. All of you...\" He could not put into words the quiet confidence that exuded from the warriors or the graceful way they moved.\n\n\"We are different,\" Utul said. \"We are better.\" He smiled at Cullen.\n\n\"You'll have to prove that on the weapons-field when we get back,\" Cullen told him.\n\n\"It will be my pleasure.\" Utul grinned.\n\n\"And mine,\" Shar said, though with less humour.\n\n\"Utul and his crew are different,\" Alcyon grated. \"You have good eyes to notice, little Drem.\"\n\nLittle! Lad! Why do these warriors in the Order keep calling me these names?\n\n\"How so?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"They are descended from Gar and the Jehar, and they take their lineage very seriously,\" Alcyon said, not breaking time in the rasp and grind of his whetstone.\n\n\"The Jehar?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"You've not heard of the Jehar?\" Shar said, eyes widening.\n\n\"No.\"\n\nShar tutted.\n\n\"The Jehar were the guardians of the Bright Star, of Corban,\" Alcyon said. \"Gar watched over Corban from when he was a bairn, protected him and taught him his swordcraft, and much more besides.\" Alcyon paused in his axe-sharpening, eyes distant.\n\n\"You knew them?\" Drem breathed.\n\n\"I did,\" Alcyon said. \"They were both great men.\"\n\n\"So, what were the Jehar, exactly?\" Drem asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The greatest of warriors,\" Shar said flatly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Swordcraft, horsecraft, there was no one to equal them.\"\n\nAlcyon grunted and shrugged. \"Give or take a warrior or two,\" he rumbled.\n\nShar snapped her eyes on the giant.\n\n\"Veradis. Maquin, Coralen,\" Alcyon said, holding Shar's gaze.\n\nUtul shrugged. \"Two or three, then,\" he allowed.\n\n\"The Jehar came from the east,\" Tain joined their conversation. \"They lived in a fabled fortress called Telassar, the white-walled. It was there that they trained for many generations, dedicating their lives in preparation for the coming of the Bright Star.\"\n\n\"And they tested their swordcraft on the Shekam,\" Shar added.\n\n\"The Shekam?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"A giant Clan from the east,\" Tain explained. \"They rode draigs into battle, like the Jotun ride bears.\"\n\n\"Draigs!\" Drem hissed, sharing a look with Cullen. \"We met one of those in the Bonefells.\" He shook his head. \"I cannot imagine how it would feel to face a charge of them in battle.\"\n\n\"I can,\" Alcyon said, a smile twitching his moustache.\n\n\"You faced them?\" Cullen asked, leaning forwards now.\n\n\"Aye. I stood in the shield wall with Veradis.\" Alcyon nodded. \"We faced their charge.\"\n\n\"What was it like?\" Cullen asked eagerly.\n\nHe looks as if he wishes he was there!\n\nAlcyon gazed down at his axe, took in a deep breath and sighed. \"Not something I would choose to do again.\"\n\nI am not surprised by that, Drem thought, remembering the bone-shaking roar of the draig in the Bonefells. And that was just one. A charge of many would be unspeakable."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Not much chance of that,\" Tain said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Shekam were wiped out.\"\n\n\"No, not wiped out,\" Alcyon breathed. \"Defeated, routed. But there were survivors. I watched them ride away on their draigs.\"\n\n\"I did not know that,\" Tain said. \"It should go in the histories.\"\n\n\"It is not apart of my life that I wish to recall,\" Alcyon grated. \"They were... dark days.\"\n\n\"Does Mother know?\"\n\nMother?\n\n\"Is Tain your son?\" Drem asked Alcyon in his usual forthright way.\n\nAlcyon nodded, smiled, ruffled Tain's already-scruffy black hair. Something about the action was endearing and made Drem miss his da fora sharp heartbeat allover again.\n\n\"Does Mother know?\" Tain asked again.\n\n\"Raina knows.\" Alcyon shrugged. \"Though it would not affect her. She is in the wilds of Arcona, not Tarbesh.\"\n\n\"Tarbesh is a lot closer to Arcona than we are,\" Tain said.\n\n\"Why is your mother in Arcona?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"On a fool's errand.\" Alcyon growled, looking back to his axe.\n\n\"She is searching for survivors of our old Clan, the Kurgan,\" Tain said. \"She has been gone many years, now.\"\n\n\"Too many,\" Alcyon muttered.\n\n\"You could have gone,\" Tain said quietly. \"Should have gone.\"\n\nAlcyon stared at his son, a dark look.\n\nWings flapped from above; Rab was descending to them.\n\n\"Any news?\" Cullen asked the white crow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Too dark,\" Rab squawked.\n\n\"Flick?\" Tain asked.\n\nRab shook his head mournfully, then tucked his beak under awing.\n\nAbruptly, Stepor sat up and looked around at them all, then up at the moon. \"Time for Keld to have a nap, I'm thinking,\" he said. He stood and clicked his tongue, his wolven-hounds\" ears pricking.\n\n\"With me,\" he said, and Grack and Ralla followed him into the night.\n\nScreams in the distance, growing louder.\n\n\"Faster, faster,\" Rab squawked at them as he winged low, then rose into the sky again, leading them onwards. Drem was riding up a shallow slope alongside Cullen and Keld, Stepor a little ahead of them. Utul and Shar rode wide on the right wing, and Alcyon and Tain were running at a startling pace on the left.\n\nA riderless horse burst over the ridge of the slope they were climbing, white-eyed and sweat-stained. It galloped down towards them, veering just in time. Drem saw bloodied claw marks staining the animal's haunch.\n\nStepor reached the ridge, Grack and Ralla either side of him, and reined in. Within heartbeats Drem, Keld and Cullen were alongside, all of them pausing to take in the scene before them. On either side Utul and Alcyon crested the ridge a heartbeat behind them.\n\nA shallow slope ran away from them, down onto an open plain. Figures moved, Drem instantly recognizing the unnatural gait of thick-muscled, long-limbed Ferals. They were circling and charging a handful of wains that were gathered in a loose half-circle, one of them overturned, one wheel slowly spinning. Figures were amongst the carts, some running, some standing, fighting. Terrible screams rang out, and Drem saw a woman burst from her cover, running hard fora slope."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A Feral appeared on the overturned wain, crouched fora moment, muscles bunching, then it leaped. It hit the ground a dozen paces behind the woman, a heartbeat later was slamming into her, both of them going down, the woman screaming, limbs flailing. The Feral's jaws opened unnaturally wide and bit down onto her face, more screams, higher in pitch, then a wet gurgling.\n\n\"Plan, boss?\" Stepor said to Keld.\n\n\"Kill the bastards,\" Keld growled and kicked his mount into a canter. Drem followed, the three of them hurtling down the slope, the three wolven-hounds ahead, growling and snarling.\n\nDrem was on the plain in a dozen heartbeats, reaching a full gallop in a dozen more.\n\nA flicker of movement in Drem's peripheral vision-Utul and Shar pulling ahead of them.\n\nA handful of Ferals bounded to meet them, their jaws and claws dripping red. They saw Utul and Shar, howled and threw themselves at the two warriors.\n\nDrem saw Utul draw his curved sword, heard him shout something.\n\n\"LASAIR,\" and then Utul's sword burst into flame.\n\n\"TRUTH AND COURAGE,\" Utul and Shar yelled as they rode at the Ferals. Utul sliced an arm from the first Feral, the stump going up inflames, the stench of burned fur and flesh sharp in the air, and then Drem was too close, dragging on his reins for his mount to turn. He pulled a hand-axe from his belt, hefted it, felt his weight shift in his saddle.\n\nI'm not used to fighting on horseback."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Keld, Cullen and Stepor rode through the line of wains a few moments ahead of him, Fen leaping and snarling.\n\nDrem made a snap decision, leaping from his saddle, hitting the ground in a stumbling run, drawing his seax with his other hand.\n\nWithin the wains all was chaos: men, women, children, all screaming, running, Ferals killing indiscriminately, small groups of survivors fighting back.\n\nGlimpses of Keld, Stepor and Cullen working together, the three wolven-hounds throwing themselves at Feral beasts, savage snarling.\n\nDrem ran towards them.\n\nA Feral looked up from feasting, jaws crimson. Drem took half of its face off with his axe, heard it yowling as he skidded to a halt, turning and stabbing with his seax. It slashed long claws at him even as its legs gave way beneath it. The claws raked Drem's chest, slicing through leather and wool, opening red lines. Drem yelled as his axe rose and fell again and again as the Feral slumped, gnashing its teeth as it died.\n\nHe stood there, breathing hard, saw the Feral had torn open a young boy. He looked away.\n\nThere was a bellow to his left as Alcyon and Tain burst through the wains, Alcyon swinging his two axes and Tain stabbing with along spear. A Feral's head spun through the air, its body running on. Tain skewered another beast with his spear, pinning it to the ground. It began to climb its way along the spear shaft towards Tain, then Alcyon's axe crunched into its head, an explosion of fur, bone and brain."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "More screaming drew Drem's eyes."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A horse-Utul's mount-was rearing, lashing out and crunching into a Feral's chest, bones snapping. Beside Utul, Shar was laying about her with her sword. A Feral's arm flew lazily through the air.\n\nMore Ferals slammed into Utul's horse, blood spurting, the horse neighing, screaming, toppling over.\n\nDrem ran, as if in slow motion, as he saw the horse roll, pinning Utul's leg, a Feral's swipe opening the horse's belly, intestines spilling. Another Feral moving towards Utul. Shar was trying to reach him, but there were two Ferals leaping at her.\n\nThe Feral stood over Utul, afoot stamping on his sword arm, pinning it, jaws opening wide.\n\nDrem crashed into the creature, both of them tumbling to the ground, rolling. Foul breath washed over him as teeth snapped a hair's breadth from his face. He raised his knee high, managed to lever the creature away and stab with his seax, deep into its waist.\n\nThe Feral roared, teeth snapping frenziedly. Drem twisted his blade, felt blood sluice over his hand, his grip slipping. He pushed, scrambled in the dirt, managed to slide away from the beast, rolled, came to one knee and hurled his hand-axe.\n\nIt crunched into the Feral's face. The beast collapsed backwards, spasming, then was finally still.\n\nDrem staggered to his feet and wrenched his seax and axe free from the corpse.\n\nUtul was still pinned; Shar reached him at the same time as Drem. He pushed and heaved at Utul's dead horse and Shar dragged Utul free."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My thanks,\" Utul said to Drem. He looked down at his mount and bent to lay his palm on the dead animal's side, Drem seeing tears blur the warrior's eyes.\n\n\"They shall pay for that,\" Utul snarled. He swept up his sword, which was no longer flaming, and looked around.\n\nCullen was still mounted, laying about with his sword, Keld and Stepor fighting side by side close by.\n\nDrem and the two Jehar ran to support the group, Utul limping but still bellowing a war-cry.\n\nDrem chopped his axe into the spine of a Feral rolling with Fen and ripped it free. He slashed claws that were swiping at his face, swayed away from snapping teeth and stabbed his seax up into the jaw of a Feral, felt his blade cut through the soft tissue of its mouth, on, up into its brain. He kicked the dead beast away.\n\nThen the two giants were there.\n\nDrem was chopping into the chest of a fallen Feral, axe and seax windmilling, hacking and stabbing, blood and fragments of bone spraying. Blood in his face, clouding his vision, but he kept on stabbing. Something grabbed his shoulder, shook him. He snarled as he turned, raising his blades.\n\n\"It's over, laddie,\" Alcyon said, Drem freezing, staring. He looked about, saw Alcyon was right. He glimpsed a Feral bounding away, but everywhere else the deformed creatures were still and twisted in death.\n\nDrem looked at the ring of people they had aided. Tough men and women, the type Drem was familiar with from the Desolation, weathered and hard. All were bloodied, wide-eyed and breathing hard."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "An old woman stepped out of the ring, grey hair matted, her face stained with blood and soot, clothes tattered and torn. She had a knife in one hand, a small axe in the other, like him.\n\n\"Drem, Drem, is that you?\" she called out, eyes fixing on him.\n\n\"Hildith?\" Drem said, taking a step towards her.\n\n\"Of course it's me,\" she said, brushing back strands of her matted hair and smudging soot around her face.\n\n\"We should have believed you,\" she told him grimly. \"When you came to the Assembly and warned us about the mine. You told us Olin was murdered.\" She bowed her head. \"Kergard is destroyed, they rolled through it like a plague.\" She looked up, mouth an angry, thin line. \"They burned down my mead-hall.\"\n\n\"You're safe now,\" Drem said, helping Hildith stand as she swayed and half fell onto him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha stepped into the cave mouth, Gulla at her side, Gunil behind them. It was wide and high enough for Gunil to walk comfortably without stooping.\n\nOn either side iron bars reflected torchlight, cages housing more of Fritha's Ferals. Some she could tell were obedient to her, by the way they whined and snuffled as she walked by, but others threw themselves into the bars, snapping and snarling and grasping with long talons or ruined hands.\n\nThey are not so tame.\n\nThey walked deeper into the tunnels that bored far beneath the ground, proof of their search for remnants of the starstone. They had found none, and yet fate had seen fit to give Fritha the Starstone Sword, ready-forged! It was a sign that she was following the right path, that if there was any such thing as a power looking down upon them, it was looking after her.\n\nTorches set into the rock walls sent shadows dancing, and as they descended further Fritha saw pockets of people, huddled close together, still as statues.\n\nRevenants.\n\nSome were Gulla's brood, others were Ulf's.\n\nEven though Fritha had played apart in creating them, she felt a sense of unease at the sight of them, eyes dark holes, skin stretched too tight across their bodies, revealing every line of muscle and tendon.\n\nAnd then they were walking into a circular chamber, the path leading both ways, curling around a pit, roughly as deep as two giants.\n\nFritha leaned over and saw the floor of the pit was seething, amass of furred limbs, of tooth and claw.\n\n\"You are to be commended, Priestess,\" Gulla said. \"Your breeding programme has worked.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha smiled, feeling a deep warmth for her creations. Hundreds of Ferals, if not thousands, roamed the pit, an abundance of sizes, from cub-like bairns to full-grown adults. She had hoped that they would breed, had worked words of power into her newest creations, enhancing and accelerating their reproductive and growth systems, but she had never dared to imagine that it would work this well. A stench emanated from the pit, of fur and sweat, of blood and urine and excrement, but Fritha did not care. Here and thereon the pit floor there were twisted carcasses, some little more than bones picked clean, but others were fresher, were distinguishable as various manifestations of her Ferals. She shrugged, sad to see some casualties, but it was for the survival of the strongest and the most robust. There was no room for the weak and feeble in her new order.\n\n\"There area lot of them,\" Gunil commented.\n\nFor once his declaration of the obvious did not annoy Fritha.\n\nShe smiled at Gulla and Gunil.\n\n\"Give me the Sword,\" Gulla said to Fritha.\n\nThey were standing in Gulla's chambers, another cave that burrowed far into the ground, though this one was not so deep or so crowded as the labyrinth Fritha had housed her Ferals within. Gulla's chamber was luxuriant, furs and silks draping his bed and chairs. There was also a bolthole in this tunnel, a wisp of air filtering down from Gulla's escape route if the Ben-Elim or Order of the Bright Star discovered this lair.\n\nThey are too late now.\n\nFritha rested a hand protectively on the hilt of the Starstone Sword. She did not want to give it up. It washer right. She had discovered it, schemed to steal it from Olin and Drem. It was she who had taken the risks and earned it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But more than that, she needed it.\n\n\"It is mine,\" Fritha said, daring to speak against Gulla, though his eyes bored into her. \"I was chosen for the task by the Covens.\" She remembered that fateful day, six years ago, standing within the ruins of a giant fortress, the Kadoshim gathered together for the first time since the Battle of Varan's Fall. More than five hundred Kadoshim had cast their lot.\n\n\"They voted for me,\" she repeated. \"I was given the greatest honour as a symbol of the Kadoshim's commitment to anew world, and to mankind. A covenant to build this world together, not like the Ben-Elim, as dictators, but you and your kin in harmony with mankind.\"\n\n\"Nothing has changed,\" Gulla said. \"You were chosen. You still are. But you have failed in your set task, allowed the Order to discover our existence and whereabouts. That cannot be overlooked. You must prove that our faith in you is warranted. Prove that you are worthy.\"\n\nThis was what Fritha had feared: the possibility that all that she longed for and had fought so hard for would betaken from her.\n\nI must accept his judgement. He is high captain, greatest amongst the Kadoshim until Asroth is awoken.\n\nFritha bowed her head, felt Gulla reach out a hand, long-taloned fingers caressing her shaven scalp.\n\n\"But this is not a punishment. I am setting you anew task. Accomplish it and you will still have the greatest honour. But you must fulfil your task first,\" he growled. \"If you fail it, you will be dead.\"\n\n\"What is this task, then?\" Fritha asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"To destroy the Order of the Bright Star.\"\n\n\"But we were to leave together, I must beat the great battle.\"\n\n\"Now Dun Seren knows we are here they will send their scouts out, their damned crows and their sharp eyes. If the mine is still and silent and the land is empty, then the Order of the Bright Star will not march north.\"\n\nHe cupped her chin, tilted her head up to hold her gaze.\n\n\"The Order must march north, must be occupied and led into the Desolation, else they will be a danger on my flank. If they did not know we were here, were unaware of our strength, then it would be different-you would be travelling at my side. But they know.\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"You must stay here, or be seen somewhere in the Desolation.\"\n\nFritha acknowledged the logic and knew that she had played apart by allowing Drem and the others to escape.\n\nBut face the Order of the Bright Star? She felt a rush of fear, and also of excitement. The most difficult of tasks, yes, but what if she succeeded? Her battle fame would live on fora thousand years.\n\nThe Order marching north, into the Desolation, away from their high walls and defences, where they will be vulnerable. Not weak. Never weak. But vulnerable.\n\nDid you plan this all along, Gulla?\n\n\"And you will have more than your Ferals at your side. I sent word south, and more acolytes have come to us, you saw many when you arrived. I will not take all of them with me. And most of all, I am leaving Ulf with you, and with him comes his brood of Revenants, all that he or his disciples have turned. His blood is spreading, infecting the Desolation.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha nodded, already thinking through strategies, terrain, deployment.\n\n\"It is dangerous, with no guarantee that you will succeed, and this is why you must give me the Sword,\" Gulla said. \"If you are victorious and are at the appointed place on the appointed day, then the great honour will still be yours, and all the greater for your victory. But if you are not there...\"\n\nI will do this. I will lay the Order of the Bright Star low.\n\nShe unbuckled her weapons-belt and slipped the scabbarded sword from it, held it fora moment in her hands, turning it. The leather-bound hilt was simple, unadorned, the dark metal of the pommel and cross-guard almost coal black. She half-drew the blade, the steel dull as night, seeming to suck in the light around it, a dark cloud halo pulsing, emanating from the blade.\n\nThen she slid the sword home and handed it to Gulla."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv felt a thrill of excitement as she saw the grey fortress of Dun Seren upon a hill in the distance, meadows of rich pasture rolling around it. It was past highsun, the sun dipping towards the horizon, silhouetting the tower and keep.\n\nI have heard so much of the Order of the Bright Star but only seen a few of their huntsmen in the flesh. This will bean education.\n\nShe was high in the sky amidst tattered wisps of cloud, Kol and a score of Ben-Elim around her. Her arms were goosefleshed with cold, and Riv resolved to make herself a fur-lined jerkin as soon as she possibly could. She had never flown so far or for such a prolonged time before. Five full days, from dusk until dawn, and now the muscles in her back were aching, dull and deep, but nevertheless it was glorious. She loved to fly, to feel free, all the cares of the world somehow left below her, insignificant as ants.\n\nOnly one memory from her life below had kept her company through the long days of flight, all else blurring.\n\nBleda.\n\nIf she closed her eyes, she could still feel the sensation of his lips pressed against hers, the tangle of their bodies. Just the thought of him sent moth wings fluttering in her belly. She wanted to see him, now.\n\nA shout from her right, a glance to see Kol signalling, and they began their long, sweeping descent towards Dun Seren, clouds whipping past them, the fortress growing larger. Soon Riv was speeding over outlying paddocks, herds of horses beneath them.\n\nThere must be thousands.\n\nHorns rang out from the fortress, deep and resonant, and then they were flying over Dun Seren's outer wall, afield opening up beneath them, filled with figures. Riv saw many giants scattered amongst them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Is this their weapons-field?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv was surprised to see it was close to the same size as the field at Drassil, even though Drassil as a whole dwarfed Dun Seren. And the numbers upon the field were a surprise to her, too-easily in the thousands.\n\nRarely will there be this many upon the weapons-field of Drassil atone time. They take their training seriously here.\n\nThey passed over the weapons-field, flying over sod and grey-tiled rooftops, a stream of figures hurrying along a wide road towards the keep and tower that dominated the hill of Dun Seren.\n\nWith a flurry of shifting wings they were above a courtyard and angling down, circling around a great statue of a warrior and wolven.\n\nIs that Corban and his wolven, Storm?\n\nRiv had heard tales of the founder of the Order of the Bright Star, that Corban had played some small part in the Day of Wrath, when the Ben-Elim had saved the Banished Lands from the hordes of Kadoshim that had broken out of the Otherworld.\n\nRiv followed Kol and his Ben-Elim warriors as they swirled around the statue, wings adjusting, feet dropping, and then Riv was alighting in the courtyard, her wings folding into her back, Kol and his Ben-Elim around her, masking her from view.\n\nA crowd was gathering in the courtyard, figures ranging upon the walls, more pouring in from the surrounding streets, but Riv's eyes were fixed on the stone keep before her, wide stone steps leading up to its open doors. Four figures stood at the top of the steps, three giants and a woman. Two of the giants Riv recognized: Balur One-Eye and Queen Ethlinn. The last giant was slimmer than most of his kin, a scraggly black crow perched upon his shoulder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Is that one of Dun Seren's talking crows? Riv thought. She had met one once before, whilst in council with Israfil.\n\nFlick, I think his name was.\n\nKol strode up the steps, Riv and his Ben-Elim following.\n\nThe woman with the giants stepped forwards. She was plain and stern-faced, dressed in simple training leathers. She moved with an economical grace, a certain way about her that Riv associated with the weapons-masters at Drassil like Ert. A confidence and control of their every movement. Riv saw streaks of grey in her black hair. A curved sword jutted over one shoulder.\n\nSimilar to the Sirak's, Riv thought, although the hilt of this one is longer. A two-handed blade.\n\n\"Welcome to Dun Seren, Kol,\" the woman said.\n\n\"Greetings, Byrne,\" Kol said, a dip of his head, a shifting of his shoulders, not quite a bow. He looked to Ethlinn and Balur One-Eye, nodded a greeting to them both.\n\n\"My apologies for arriving unannounced,\" Kol said. \"But I bring momentous news from Drassil. The Lord Protector Israfil is dead.\"\n\nThere were gasps around the courtyard, but Riv kept her eyes and attention focused on Byrne, Ethlinn and Balur. Of the three of them, Balur's expression changed the most, a deep frown creasing the slabbed bones of his face.\n\n\"How?\" Ethlinn said.\n\n\"He was murdered. A conspiracy between Kadoshim and traitors. It went as deep as our own White-Wings. Garidas was chief amongst the traitors.\"\n\nBalur's frown deepened."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv had known how loyal Garidas was to Israfil, and if she had known, then Balur likely did, as well.\n\n\"This is shocking news,\" Byrne said, no emotion showing on her face. \"I was concerned that all was not well at Drassil.\"\n\n\"Aye, it is, which is why I have taken it upon myself to bring you the news myself. There is more you should know.\"\n\n\"Goon,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"I have been named the new Lord Protector.\"\n\n\"My congratulations,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"And one of my first acts has been to revoke the Lore against inter-relations between Ben-Elim and humankind. Riv, step forth,\" Kol called.\n\nThe Ben-Elim about Riv parted and Riv stepped forwards. She felt the courtyard go silent, thousands of eyes upon her. She hated it, hated being this focal point of ideology and belief. But she was not one to bow her head and walk meekly, so she stood straight and tall and strode to stand beside Kol. Her eyes she kept fixed on Byrne, and when Riv reached Kol's side she snapped her wings open, made them beat, once, slowly, then furled them back in again.\n\nThe silence lengthened.\n\n\"Clearly, we need to talk,\" Byrne said.\n\nRiv followed Kol into a high-vaulted room, afire-pit roaring, a table beyond it surrounded with high-backed chairs. Byrne led them to the table, gesturing for Kol and Riv to sit.\n\nBalur and Ethlinn entered the room, the other giant with the crow upon his shoulder following them. They all took seats around the table, silent while Byrne poured warm mead for them all."
}
] |
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